Please give a warm welcome to author, Ella Grey, joining us with her paranormal romance, THE RAVEN'S KILL.
By Ella Grey
Where do you get your ideas from? It's a common enough question and one I've answered quite a few times. The first one is, I've got a troll living in my closet and he supplies me with story ideas as long as I supply him with cookies. The second one is, One minute I'm walking down the street and a big hammer hits me on the head, an idea appears fully formed, like Athena out of the skull of Zeus. That one usually gets me a wary stare as they slowly edge away from me whispering about straitjackets and if I escaped from the local asylum. Now the first two sound pretty fun but are completely false. No, I don't have a troll in my closet, it's an imp and he prefers bonbons.
The truth is I get ideas from practically anything. It depends on my mood a lot. For instance I get a telemarketer on the phone and he's trying to sell me double glazing. I can't help it if my mind drifts to a kick arse fight scene. I also get that way when people step in front of my sons buggy. Hello, how can you not see the child kicking out his feet, like children do? My other half gets me a cup of coffee without me having to ask and hello kissing scene. I also get that way when I see my favourite author has released a new book. I'm fickle that way.
I write every day. As soon as my sons head hits that pillow, my computer is open and I'm working on this, that and the other. I never have a solid plan in my head, damn it would make my life a hell of a lot simpler if I did but I don't. It can be incredibly freeing not being tied down to a particular project but when a deadline looms like a piano over Wiley Coyote, I make sure the words get onto the paper.
But instead of saying all of that, when someone asks me how I get my ideas? I tell them of the imp who likes bonbons. It's simpler that way.
The Raven's Kill by Ella Grey
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Raven is a shifter with the ability to see the darkness in a person's soul. He has never strayed off his path or let a target live before, until he meets Cassandra for the first time. She's an innocent, so why does someone want her dead?As soon as she laid eyes on the mysterious man, she wants him with an intensity that scares her. When he appears in her room one night with an impossible story, she doesn't have a choice, believe him or die when someone else takes the job he's refused.It's a fight against time and an attraction that scares them both, no-one knows what the future holds. Even a fledgling seer.
Her moans had echoed all over the mansion. Raven had even heard them from his place on the roof; he'd shifted long enough to enter from the skylight before taking his human form again and headed to investigate. No lights highlighted the dark corridors but it wasn't a problem. The dog remained silent in the kitchen, a terrible guard. The moans made him rock hard, she was the only one in the house which left one very interesting possibility.
It didn't take long to find her room, the door slightly ajar and he pushed it open a little more. Cassandra writhed on the bed, one hand between her legs and the other on her chest. He watched her come undone and knew he could do it better. He wanted her to fall apart with his tongue lapping at her juices, sucking and teasing her until she called out his name. He quite liked the fantasy and missed her eyes opening, resting on him. Her scream ripped through the air.
Well, what did you expect? That she'd pull you into her arms and you could finally find out what her lips taste like?
Raven darted from his place in the doorway and pressed his hand across her mouth. "I won't hurt you." The words left him in a rush but she fought against him. "Cassandra, I don't intend to hurt you. Listen to me. Please listen to me." She slowly stopped fighting but her eyes were wide, her breathing fast. "I'm going to remove my hand. Don't scream or I'll be forced have to put my hand over your mouth again."
For the first time in his life, he didn't know what he was doing. The smell of her desire, mixed with the vanilla perfume that seemed embedded into her skin, filled the air and it was distracting as hell. "Trust me?"
It was asking a lot and he knew it but she finally nodded. The impression of her lips against his hand felt like a burn, as if the brief touch left a scar against his skin.
"Please don't hurt me."
Her words made him angry but not at her, he didn't want her to be scared of him. "I already said I won't."
Cassandra moved away from him, turning to face him. She nibbled at her bottom lip, her fingers twisted together. "What do you want?"
About the Author:
Ella Grey always knew that she'd become a writer. Well, it was either that or a brain surgeon but her heart wasn't in it. She's constantly had voices in her head, which could have ended up being strapped in a strait jacket and being locked in a padded cell. Thankfully she picked up a pen and put it to paper. She currently lives in the UK with her son, partner and cat. She rarely sleeps and can often be found with a cup of coffee close to one hand, with her other hand on the keyboard.
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