Ink Motions with Celia Aaron

 

Celia Aaron is, by necessity, a pseudonym. This is because I am a fine, upstanding legal professional by day and a dark and dirty author by night. I formerly spent my days prosecuting bad boys and locking them up. Now, I'm in private practice, though there are still plenty of bad boys -- camouflaged by suits and ties -- to fantasize over and write about. I intend to add some of these suited lady killers to my cast of characters in the near future.

 aaronerotica.com
@aaronerotica

Ink Motions - Interview

How do you get an idea for your novel?

Depends. Sometimes I just have a thought or see something that makes me create a little story in my mind.

 
What is your writing style? Do you just sit down and write or do you create a timeline?


I'm a hybrid. I have a general outline, but I'm mostly a pantser who makes it up as I go along.

 
Who is the "Writing Muse" in your life?
Good books. Books that I read and then go "holy shit, that was awesome." I don't pretend to think I can match the greatness, but it definitely makes me want to try.

 
How many novels have you written including all work in progresses you are
currently working on?

About six and a half.

 

Who is your "writing idol"? I.E. Who do you like and what is it about there writing that captures your soul?

I can't name just one. There are so many great storytellers out there who know the elements of a good yarn.

 
What is you favorite plot line type?

Beauty and the Beast.

 
Is there any advice you can offer to anyone who would like to write?

Make the time to write, even if it's only thirty minutes a day. Read a lot.

 
What is a good villain?

Someone who's the hero of their own story. Someone who is complex and isn't evil just to be evil.

 
Excerpt from Counsellor

I held my ground. He could hurt me, but I wouldn’t give him the benefit of my fear. I stared into him, past the blue and deeper, watching as they turned from anger to heat. The air in the room shifted, like an electrical current hummed between us.

All the concern that he’d walked in with was gone. He looked…hungry, as if the moon had emerged from behind a cloud and revealed him to be some sort of ravenous wolf.

His gaze traveled my face, my body. When heat erupted along my skin as if he’d touched me, I knew I was damned. To want the touch of the devil was nothing short of a mortal sin.

I struck him, my open palm whipping across his face with a satisfying slap. He didn’t retaliate, just tilted his head to the side until his neck popped in the most unnerving fashion. What had been fire in his eyes was now a raging inferno.

He advanced, only inches from me now. I pulled my hand back to strike him again, but he caught it, squeezing my wrist painfully. I tilted my chin up, meeting his vicious encroachment with defiance. He wouldn’t frighten me out of this space. It was mine. I didn’t care if the entire place was covered in fucking vines, I would slash and burn them until I’d cleared an area for me, my paint, my books, and my own bit of freedom.

Quick as an adder, he put his free hand to my face. I didn’t flinch, though I expected him to strike me. The heat in his gaze spoke of something explosive—violence or desire, maybe a heady mix of both. When his palm touched my skin, my eyes closed involuntarily.

“So soft.” His voice was tinged with wonder.

I was down the rabbit hole, everything topsy-turvy and wrong, because his touch—god, his touch. It was like I’d been starving for it this entire time but didn’t know it. When I opened my eyes, he leaned down, his lips teasing mine with the bare millimeters of distance. He was a gorgeous villain, a predator dressed up as a man.

I raised my unrestrained hand to hit him again, but he caught it, too, and wrenched both of them behind my back. He pressed me into his chest, caging me with his body. I could feel the blaze emanating from him, the desire like a heat wave. Could he feel mine? His gaze held me fast, furious and possessive. He looked at me like I was his. Not because of a contract, not because of the Acquisition, but because the intensity of his desire made it so. He would have what he wanted. His gaze flicked down to my mouth and he dipped his head lower, his breath grazing my lips.
I burned to destroy him, to leave him in flames as I walked away from the ashes. But first … just a kiss.

About the Book:

In the heart of Louisiana, the most powerful people in the South live behind elegant gates, mossy trees, and pleasant masks. Once every ten years, the pretense falls away and a tournament is held to determine who will rule them. The Acquisition is a crucible for the Southern nobility, a love letter written to a time when barbarism was enshrined as law.

Now, Sinclair Vinemont is in the running to claim the prize. There is only one way to win, and he has the key to do it — Stella Rousseau, his Acquisition. To save her father, Stella has agreed to become Sinclair’s slave for one year. Though she is at the mercy of the cold, treacherous Vinemont, Stella will not go willingly into darkness.

As Sinclair and Stella battle against each other and the clock, only one thing is certain: The Acquisition always ends in blood.

 

http://amzn.com/B015Y70F94