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Beyond The Page & Giveaway: “Make Me Sweat” by Avril Ashton

Apr 8
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Erotic romance author, Avril Ashton, has taken over CABR for the day.

She’s talking about writing, reviews AND giving away a copy of her book, MAKE ME SWEAT 😀

There’s an R-rated excerpt below too.

ANSWER the RAFFLECOPTER question in the COMMENTS section, and be sure to complete the 2 other entries to increase your chances of winning 🙂

Make Me Sweat cover

A Little Bit Selfish?

As an author who puts my work out there, I love getting feedback; from readers, from other authors, from established review sites. It’s a validation, all the more so if it’s a great review. I like it, I smile and then I move on. There are the bad ones, too. Then the downright messed up opinions of people who lambaste you, your craft, your choices. They go in, they go hard and they make it personal.

Okay…

It takes a certain kind of strength to take a breath, to shrug and move on. I can. I do. Some not so much. I can understand why they won’t or can’t understand why someone would go out their way to personally hit below the belt.

If you’re not familiar with me and my work, I write erotic romance, both hetero and GLBT. I leave nothing on the cutting room floor. I close no doors when it comes to the bedroom action and I go all out with mine. I do take it there…and beyond. It’s what I love to read, it’s what gets the creative juices flowing and it’s my preference. My books aren’t for the soft and pink. In my featured book, MAKE ME SWEAT, I include some things I’d never taken on before that point. That got me some pretty screwy emails, some telling me I’d gone too far. That I was writing porn.

I read those emails. Smiled. Then deleted them and moved on. Next.

That’s me and I think there’s nothing anyone can tell me, call me that I haven’t already told/called myself. Took that power away. There are those who aren’t as hard-assed as me, who haven’t yet figured out those opinions can’t dictate how you live your life or in this case, what you write.

You have to be a certain kind of selfish to be an author, I think. A certain kind of bold enough to say the harsh truth. That “this is what I do. This is what makes me happy. It’s my job, I love it. It’s mine. Not yours. I do it for me. Not for you.”

Sure they’d gasp and clutch at their pearls. You can’t possibly mean that. After all, you write and if you want to be successful at it, people need to buy and read. We’d love that. Really. Buy it. Read it. Give your opinions. We’d love all that. What we can’t allow is to be torn down, made to doubt ourselves enough that we’d want to quit, give it all up because of harsh words.

Everyone will not love the genres/themes I write. Hell, many won’t like it. I’m cool with that. I’m cool with bad reviews and harsh words. Many aren’t me. They throw their hands up and want to surrender. There has to be a point where we put our chin up and say back off, I do what pleases me. I’d love it if you all worshipped my books, hung on to every word I write. That won’t happen. I accept that.

Just as you’ll have to accept I write for me. First and foremost. It pleases me. I’m not much into pleasing all…just one. Works for me.

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Make Me Sweat coverSynopsis of MAKE ME BURN (Bringing the Heat, book 1):

Charged with planting a listening device in the office of a dangerous nightclub owner, Ever Marcille accepts an invite from her target to indulge in some naughty play. She didn’t count on their mutual, insatiable need, or the many ways his closely guarded secrets are intertwined with hers.

Undercover federal agent Simon Dakin has one thing on his mind, catching the arms dealer known as Ghost. That’s until he spies the mysterious woman at his bar. Time after time she comes in, teasing his senses. Starring in his fantasies. He promises himself one night with her in his arms, but a single taste isn’t possible. He’s hooked.

Even as their secrets intrude, Dak and Ever succumb to their desires. But time is running out. Secrets past and present must be revealed. Can their new-found feelings survive the many blows, or is this over before it even begins?

 

BUY Links:

Evernight Publishing: http://tinyurl.com/3opkryq

Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/44kxybm

Barnes & Noble: http://tinyurl.com/3ltbymq

All Romance: http://tinyurl.com/3bz236j

 

AUTHOR’S BIO:

A Caribbean transplant, Avril now lives in Brooklyn, N.Y. with a tolerant Spousal Equivalent. Together they raise an eccentric daughter who loves reading and school (not so much school anymore). Avril’s earliest memories of reading revolve around discussing plot points of Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys with an equally book-minded mother

Always in love with the written word, Avril finally decided to do the writing in August of ’09 and never looked back. Spicy love scenes, delicious heroes, and wicked women burn up the pages of Avril’s stories, but there’ll always be a happy ending; Av remains a believer of love in all its forms.

Addicted to cake, the ID Channel and the UFC, Avril writes Erotic and GLBT Romance for Ellora’s CaveEvernight PublishingeXtasy BooksSecret Cravings Publishing and Total-e-Bound.

Visit: http://www.avrilashton.com

Friend Avril on: http://www.facebook.com/writeravrilashton

http://www.twitter.com/#!/AvrilAsh

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4623203.Avril_Ashton

 

Make Me Sweat cover

 

R-rated excerpt from MAKE ME SWEAT: 

 

“What do you want from me, Mr. Dakota?”

“You know who I am?” Dak removed his jacket and flung it on to the couch at the far side of the room.

Her eyes followed the movement. “Everyone knows who Ian Dakota is, but you haven’t answered my question.” She tilted her head, staring at him with green eyes. “What do you want?”

“You.”

She laughed. The low, husky sound hardened his cock and moistened the tip. Dak bit back a groan. Shit.

“Do you think I’m for sale, Mr. Dakota?” She asked the question like one would ask the time of day.

“Not at all,” he rushed to assure her. “I just think you want me as much as I want you.”

She blinked, a low sweep of long lashes, and got to her feet. “You think so, huh?” At the window, she stared down at the street. Dak caressed her smooth back with his gaze. He salivated for a taste of her creamy skin and those gorgeous tattoos.

Eyes glued to the activity on the street below, she asked, “If I told you to make me come right now using only your fingers, what would you say?”

His cock jerked. “Take off your dress.”

The black, backless number pooled at her ankles, circling the gold heels. Dak watched, mouth dry, cock aching, as she pushed her front onto the window. Palms flat against the glass, she widened her stance.

A step forward brought him to her, his front inches from her back. He smoothed a trembling hand from the nape of her neck to the twin dimples above her ass, then traced the flight of the stars etched there.

She sighed and leaned into his touch. Dak wanted to kiss her skin, lick those stars with his tongue, he wanted to taste her. Hell he wanted. Period. Instead, he forced his galloping pulse to calm, forced his breath to steady. Forced his need to wait.

Something he’d never done.

He circled the curve of her ass with one hand, the other he brought around to cup a heavy breast, thumbing the nipple. A moan rose from her. She bowed her head.

“Tell me your name.” He pulled a nipple and slid a finger down the crack of her ass. She panted. “Tell me.”

“Ever. My name’s Ever.”

Ever Marcille, to be precise. He put his lips to her ear and trailed his hand from her breast to her flat stomach. “Ever, I want to hear you scream.”

“Yeah?” Her body trembled. “You and me both.”

 

 

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