Author Spotlight and Giveaway: Rhyll Biest…

Today we welcome to the Author Spotlight Erotic Romance Novelist, Rhyll Biest.

PLEASE NOTE: As Rhyll is an Erotic Romance author, the post and excerpt below are intended for an ADULT AUDIENCE.  Clicking through to read the post implies acknowledgement of this warning.

Welcome to the Author Spotlight, Rhyll, and congratulations on the recent release of ‘Risk’. You write Erotic Romance with an international flavour – have the locations been inspired by your own travels?

They certainly have. I spent two years living in Shanghai, one year living in Prague, and one year living in Bremen, which is a German city near Hamburg. My current job also requires me to travel overseas fairly often. All good fodder for my novels!

Can you describe a perfect hero in Erotic Romance?

Well, he couldn’t be perfect because then I’d have no character flaw to exploit for dramatic purposes. Actually, I don’t think there is a single perfect hero because readers and writers like variety. I guess the ‘perfect’ hero is whoever is going to have the most fun, saucy conflict with the heroine. And who will float her boat, so to speak.

Are there elements of writing Erotic Romance that are different to other sub-genres of romance, and if so, what are they?

I’m not an expert on the genre (still got my training wheels on) but to my way of thinking you need to be alert to all the character development, conflict and plot opportunities presented by sex and sexual relationships, and a fair understanding of sexual psychology. I always feel, and others may differ on this, that erotic romance writers have a responsibility to highlight that only consensual sex is ‘sexy’ by not representing rape or predatory behaviour as titillating. Other than that, anything goes…

Are you a panster or plotter?

I bounce both ways. I start with a basic idea, do some GMC planning and outline scene ideas, plot. But things tend to develop as you write, which is fine. All drafting is exploratory in a way, as you discover in the writing whether things fit or not. I try not to force things on my characters that don’t feel natural just to make them dance to the original plot.

What does a normal writing day look like for you?

My day job is a foul but handsomely-paying succubus that drains all energy from me on week days, so I tend to write all day on weekends, holidays and leave days.

risk_msr

Who has been your biggest influence in regards to your writing?

All writers out there producing quality work. I’m passionate about books. If the writing is trite and clichéd I won’t bother past the second page. But if an author rewards me with fresh language, complex characters, some insight on life and interesting conflict, I am their little bitch for life.

You also like to look into different occupations and their romance worthiness, on your blog. Which occupation seems most romance worthy so far?

Ooooh, that’s a tough one, because the agronomists, the ballet dancers and the alpaca ranchers are all neck and neck! And I say ‘why choose?’ Why not have the male ballet dancer fall in love with two women, one an agronomist and one an alpaca rancher?

It’s a hot topic of conversation amongst writers, but do your characters discuss safe sex?

They sure do! Nothing pulls me out of a story quicker than characters who don’t protect their own (and their partner’s) health.

Of all the characters you’ve created so far, which is your favourite?

I have to admit that it’s Jane Hood from A Sporting Chance because she’s surly, ahem, like me.

Sporting_Chance_Rhyll_Biest copy

Could you please provide us with an excerpt of Risk?

“Hey, gorgeous, rough day in the risk-analysis saddle?”

Mike Ransom leaned back in his swivel chair and smiled. He let the cool of his fiancée’s voice wash from the phone down his spine, her sweet, soft tones tempered by just the right amount of wickedness.

Long. And hard.” He rubbed his smirk with the receiver.

There was a pause at the other end. “We are still talking about your day, aren’t we?”

“Get over here and find out for yourself. You still at work?”

“Nuh-uh, I left early in case the rain caused a traffic hellmouth from Pudong to Zhongshan. Had to patch a whole bunch of ports against a Trojan but got it done superfast so I’d beat the peak hour.”

He loved it when she talked geek, but the only port he was interested in patching was hers, preferably as he rubbed his face in her breasts and stroked the strawberry birthmark on her hip. And did his best not to imagine another pair of hands on her.

“How very cunning of you, wife-to-be.”

“Why thank you, husband-to-be.”

“There’s so much more to you than just a pretty face and a way with an egg beater.”

Jane’s sigh drowned out the sound of the photocopier down the hallway. “Those political correctness classes aren’t working, are they? I’m going to have to sit you down with a copy of The Female Eunuch again, aren’t I?”

He scanned the corridor outside his office and lowered his voice. “Keep that tone up and I’ll paddle your behind with it. Or is that what you’re hoping for?”

Thick silence. The air seemed to hold its breath along with him as he waited for her answer, his heart wadded thick and tight in his chest with uncertainty. Had he crossed a line?

“Only if you promise to fuck me like you mean it afterward.”

Ohhhhh. He let out a breath and retrieved the file in his brain marked Hot of Jane’s world-class ass. His cock’s imagination was miles ahead, tearing down the street, doing wheelies, his brain opening the throttle on visions of faxing a photo of Jane’s rosy buttocks to his entire department. Every straight guy in the office would succumb to an awe-induced embolism. And a few lesbians.

Ah fuck, when was his brain going to give up on such thoughts? ’Bout the same time he quit drinking those “few quick beers” on the way home. And then drinking a few more once he got there. Jane hadn’t said anything, but whether she’d noticed was another question…

“By the way, don’t bother coming home.”

His spine stiffened. “What?”

“A friend of yours called to invite us to dinner. Call me when you guys work out the details and I’ll pick you up from work. Give me an hour or so to wash my hair and change though, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” He allowed himself to picture her getting dressed at their Pudong apartment, looking eminently fuckable as she slid her favorite black dress over black silk stockings, the suspenders framing to perfection her deliciously pale, smooth thighs. Who gave a shit about dinner?

“Who called?” he asked.

“Vlad. You got his number to call him back? Or you want me to read it out?”

Fuck.

“Mike?”

Fuck me.

“Sorry, someone was talking to me.” He stared at his empty office doorway and ran a hand down his face.

“One of your Moscow friends, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve got his number. Did he leave any other message?”

“Said he had some news but he’d tell you over dinner. You’re okay to go to dinner, aren’t you? I know you kind of pulled up rough this morning.”

Ah, so she had noticed the six beers he’d had after dinner. And his hangover. “Your relentless sexual appetite is wearing me out.”

“Wiseass,” she said.

“Wiseass lover.”

“Okay, I’ve got no comeback to that. Call me and I’ll pick you up.”

“Yeah, all right, thanks. Bye.”

In the dead fluorescent glare of his office, he stared at his computer screen and rubbed his neck. The risk-assessment matrix on the screen wove red and green lines into eye-bleeding complexity, casting red and green shadows on the desk varnish.

The tangle on the screen mirrored his feelings. Vlad.

Vladimir Semyonovich Orlov, to be precise. Vlad to his friends, Orlov to his acquaintances, Semya to his wife, and “that big motherfucker” to everyone else.

And wherever Vlad went, Lena was bound to follow. No pun intended. Well, maybe some. Damn. He looked at his risk-assessment matrix. He had two more pages to write on his milestone report. He’d finish the last figures on his chart and then call Vlad.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard. How long since he’d seen them? A year? Though see was a pale euphemism for their last get-together. His cock twitched.

“Don’t start,” he muttered.

No, he’d left that life behind. They’d figure that out when they met Jane. He’d have to tread a conversational minefield to keep Jane from working out their exact former relationship. But he owed the Orlovs dinner, at least. And he’d attended enough business lunches to perfect the art of hiding behind a curtain of smiles and half-truths between entrée, main and dessert.

Web links

Website

Blog

Facebook

Twitter

Goodreads

Rhyll is providing an E-Copy (PDF, e-pub or PRC format), of her newest release, ‘Risk’ to one lucky reader. All you have to do to be in the draw is answer the following question:

What profession would you like to see in a romance novel that you haven’t seen in one before?

This competition so open worldwide and will be drawn on the 17th of November, 2013.

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6 Comments

  1. Hi Rhyll,
    I love your extract from Risk 🙂 and your professions blog is just hilarious.

    Good luck with your writing.

    Cate xo

    Reply
  2. Sophie Grant

     /  November 12, 2013

    I really enjoyed this excerpt of Risk, can’t wait to get my hands on it.
    Profession; hmm…professional wakeboarder? Haven’t read a story with a fit hunk like that in it.

    Reply
  3. Loved the excerpt, Rhyll, and can’t wait to read it.

    Reply
  4. And the lucky winner is…Sophie Grant. Congratulations Sophie! Rhyll will be in touch with you in regards to your prize.

    Reply

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