Thursday, April 2, 2009
Welcome Jeanne St. James! So tell us about you? I want the full abbreviated story.
I have been writing for over 25 years. I started when I was about 13 years old. Over my high school years I wrote my first novel, a young adult novel, that was pretty raw about a young girl growing up in a gang. That manuscript was left behind in my ex-husband’s attic. He can keep it.
I have been writing for over 25 years. I started when I was about 13 years old. Over my high school years I wrote my first novel, a young adult novel, that was pretty raw about a young girl growing up in a gang. That manuscript was left behind in my ex-husband’s attic. He can keep it.
I have been published in Playgirl though.
I only started submitting my stories to publishers a few months ago. I procrastinated big time. However, the publishing world has definitely changed over those 25 years and epubs are more open to new writers.
Playgirl? Interesting. So where and what do you have published?
In 2006, I had a short erotic story published in Playgirl. That story, along with another erotic short, can be found on my website (http://www.jeannestjames.com) under the Free Reads page. They are not my typical stories because one: they are in first person (I usually write in 3rd person) and two: they are erotica and not romance (no HEA ending). It’s entitled “The Hot Ride” and the other one is “Dirty Laundry.”
In addition, I posted a third story called “Disturbed in the Suburbs,” which is a short story about a psycho teen. It’s not romance at all, but was just a fun writing exercise and very out of character for me.
As for romance, I have two separate manuscripts out with publishers and am waiting to hear from both of them.
I hate waiting--it is the bane of my writing existence (she says with four works out to publishers right now). Moving on to a more enjpyable subject....
I only started submitting my stories to publishers a few months ago. I procrastinated big time. However, the publishing world has definitely changed over those 25 years and epubs are more open to new writers.
Playgirl? Interesting. So where and what do you have published?
In 2006, I had a short erotic story published in Playgirl. That story, along with another erotic short, can be found on my website (http://www.jeannestjames.com) under the Free Reads page. They are not my typical stories because one: they are in first person (I usually write in 3rd person) and two: they are erotica and not romance (no HEA ending). It’s entitled “The Hot Ride” and the other one is “Dirty Laundry.”
In addition, I posted a third story called “Disturbed in the Suburbs,” which is a short story about a psycho teen. It’s not romance at all, but was just a fun writing exercise and very out of character for me.
As for romance, I have two separate manuscripts out with publishers and am waiting to hear from both of them.
I hate waiting--it is the bane of my writing existence (she says with four works out to publishers right now). Moving on to a more enjpyable subject....
I have to know, what does your hero wear beneath his faded jeans?
He definitely doesn’t go commando. I love a man who can fill out a boxer brief. My heroes all wear them. No bikinis, no boxers, no plain briefs.
A boxer breif is especially nice at times, but a few of my heros wear kilts--no boxer breifs in fourteenth century Scotland for them. LOL.
He definitely doesn’t go commando. I love a man who can fill out a boxer brief. My heroes all wear them. No bikinis, no boxers, no plain briefs.
A boxer breif is especially nice at times, but a few of my heros wear kilts--no boxer breifs in fourteenth century Scotland for them. LOL.
How about your favorite genre in writing?
I love to write contemporary erotic romance. I usually write m/f, but recently finished an interracial ménage a trois (m/m/f) and just started a short m/m erotic romance. I really enjoyed writing the ménage and plan to write more. I love to write about men in uniform, usually ones that carry a badge. But my current work in progress and my ménage include men in a different kind of uniform: an NFL football uniform. I have a thing about football. I’m a huge (HUGE
) Steelers fan.
I also have two different paranormal story ideas. I am only fleshing them out now. Let me just say this: they aren’t about vampires or werewolves.
That all sounds great. Roethlisberger is swiftly becoming one of my favorite players. His ass in spandex ain't bad either. ; )
I love to write contemporary erotic romance. I usually write m/f, but recently finished an interracial ménage a trois (m/m/f) and just started a short m/m erotic romance. I really enjoyed writing the ménage and plan to write more. I love to write about men in uniform, usually ones that carry a badge. But my current work in progress and my ménage include men in a different kind of uniform: an NFL football uniform. I have a thing about football. I’m a huge (HUGE
) Steelers fan.I also have two different paranormal story ideas. I am only fleshing them out now. Let me just say this: they aren’t about vampires or werewolves.
That all sounds great. Roethlisberger is swiftly becoming one of my favorite players. His ass in spandex ain't bad either. ; )
What are your plans for 2009? Any exciting developments or wonderful adventures in the works?
Croco Design has just redesigned my website and MySpace page, so that’s new for 2009. I’d like to get contracts on the two manuscripts that are already submitted. And I just plan on writing, writing, writing, along with doing whatever I can to improve my craft. I am also looking for some part-time editing positions so I can really get my hands dirty in the world of publishing.
I’ll also be attending the RWA National in Washington, D.C., in July.
Oh, and I’m getting married on the beach in St. Lucia in October. I guess I shouldn’t forget that! (BTW, my fiancé carries a badge, too, like my alphas usually do)
Wow that is exciting. And what a coincidence, my husband is police officer as well. Enough about the men though, tell us something interesting that we would never guess about you?
Hmm. You want my secrets? I can’t share them all with you. But, let’s see… Jeanne St. James is my pen name, which is a morphing of my own name and my fiancé’s name. I work full-time as an emergency dispatcher. I have my both my A.A. and B.S. in Criminal Justice and have had extensive law enforcement training.
That's very cool! So before we end this interview how about some shameless links. Where in the wide world of the web can we find you?
All over. I live on the ‘net. I just launched my newly redesigned website at http://www.jeannestjames.com. Also, you can find me on Facebook and MySpace. I have a blog: The Ranting & Ravings of Jeanne St. James and I love to Twitter (it’s addicting): Jeanne's All a Twitter. And there’s more but too many to list.
You’ll also find me on various writers’ loops and forums. Come say “hi!”
Croco Design has just redesigned my website and MySpace page, so that’s new for 2009. I’d like to get contracts on the two manuscripts that are already submitted. And I just plan on writing, writing, writing, along with doing whatever I can to improve my craft. I am also looking for some part-time editing positions so I can really get my hands dirty in the world of publishing.
I’ll also be attending the RWA National in Washington, D.C., in July.
Oh, and I’m getting married on the beach in St. Lucia in October. I guess I shouldn’t forget that! (BTW, my fiancé carries a badge, too, like my alphas usually do)
Wow that is exciting. And what a coincidence, my husband is police officer as well. Enough about the men though, tell us something interesting that we would never guess about you?
Hmm. You want my secrets? I can’t share them all with you. But, let’s see… Jeanne St. James is my pen name, which is a morphing of my own name and my fiancé’s name. I work full-time as an emergency dispatcher. I have my both my A.A. and B.S. in Criminal Justice and have had extensive law enforcement training.
That's very cool! So before we end this interview how about some shameless links. Where in the wide world of the web can we find you?
All over. I live on the ‘net. I just launched my newly redesigned website at http://www.jeannestjames.com. Also, you can find me on Facebook and MySpace. I have a blog: The Ranting & Ravings of Jeanne St. James and I love to Twitter (it’s addicting): Jeanne's All a Twitter. And there’s more but too many to list.
You’ll also find me on various writers’ loops and forums. Come say “hi!”
Will do! And thank you soo much for being a fellow James author on my blog!
Below for your reading enjoyment is an excerpt from Ms. Jeanne St. James.
Excerpt of Banged Up by Jeanne James
Relief flooded over Mace Walker as he twisted the key in the lock, gave the front door a shove, and stepped over the threshold. Finally home. About time.
Time to heal.
The foyer was dark, but he didn’t need to hit the light switch. Even being gone for as long as he had been, he still knew the house well enough. He made his way to the stairs and set down his bags. Those two small duffels didn’t hold much evidence of his life for the past couple of years. Just some toiletries and a few basic items of clothes.
As he straightened, the foyer lit up, blinding him for a second. He blinked as a young voice rang out from the top of the steps.
“Hold it right there! Put your arms up and back away from the stairs.”
What the fuck?
Mace had expected to see his sister bounding down the stairway of his two-story colonial, excited after not seeing her brother for the past two years. Actually more like one year, eleven months, and fifteen days. Not that he was counting. But instead he stared up into the deadly eye of a Glock. And from his viewpoint it looked like a model 23, a .40 caliber. A compact, but still a decent sized, gun in a very small, very uneasy hand. Instantly, the hairs on the back of his neck rose.
Damn. He'd dealt with crime bosses and their flunkies -- from drug to porno rings -- and had managed to survive. Now he was going to be killed by some measly punk he surprised while burglarizing his house? The cruel irony made him want to laugh.
Instead, he did as he was instructed. With caution he raised his hands above his head before stepping back toward the middle of the foyer. He avoided standing directly under the light, trying to get a better view of the top of the steps. But he didn’t have much success; the upstairs hallway and the upper section of the stairway were hidden in shadows.
If he played his cards right, this little situation would be under his control in no time at all. He just had to keep the kid calm and make the skinny punk believe that he was the one in command. From experience Mace knew the Glock didn't have a conventional safety. All the kid had to do was pull the trigger and pull it again and again until all the rounds in the clip emptied into Mace’s body. And from what he could see in the limited light, the kid's fingers were twitching from nervousness.
Not a good sign.
Where had a young punk gotten an expensive handgun like that? It certainly hadn’t been in the house. And if it had been it would have been locked up in the gun safe.
If only he could see the boy's face. He needed to see the eyes. Mace couldn't even begin to predict what the kid would do without seeing his eyes.
“Don't you dare move or I'll blow your face off!” The kids’ voice raised an octave, making him sound more and more like… a girl.
Tension ran through Mace’s body as the boy started down the steps. At first he could see bare toes, then one slim calf, then another. His eyes flicked to the gun, then returned to the shapely naked thighs that couldn't belong to a kid – no way. Especially not a boy. Those smooth legs definitely belonged to a woman. And he couldn't wait to see the rest of her. So far, the view almost made it worth being held at gunpoint.
Almost.
He was disappointed when an oversized t-shirt – shit, was that Marmaduke on it? -- blocked his view of creamy flesh. His arms were tired, his leg throbbed painfully, and his patience was wearing thin. But he still wasn't going to move, since he had no idea who this woman was descending the stairs. His curiosity piqued when she stepped down into the light, which highlighted her long, curly red hair and made her wide, green – glaring -- eyes sparkle and snap.
A twitch shot through his lower stomach and landed in his groin. Fear or pain didn’t make him suck in his breath. It was her unrestricted breasts bobbing under the cotton shirt with each step she took. Her nipples stood out like two beacons under the worn cotton. Jesus.
He had to clear his throat twice before he could ask her, “Are you robbing this house, dressed like that?”
Time to heal.
The foyer was dark, but he didn’t need to hit the light switch. Even being gone for as long as he had been, he still knew the house well enough. He made his way to the stairs and set down his bags. Those two small duffels didn’t hold much evidence of his life for the past couple of years. Just some toiletries and a few basic items of clothes.
As he straightened, the foyer lit up, blinding him for a second. He blinked as a young voice rang out from the top of the steps.
“Hold it right there! Put your arms up and back away from the stairs.”
What the fuck?
Mace had expected to see his sister bounding down the stairway of his two-story colonial, excited after not seeing her brother for the past two years. Actually more like one year, eleven months, and fifteen days. Not that he was counting. But instead he stared up into the deadly eye of a Glock. And from his viewpoint it looked like a model 23, a .40 caliber. A compact, but still a decent sized, gun in a very small, very uneasy hand. Instantly, the hairs on the back of his neck rose.
Damn. He'd dealt with crime bosses and their flunkies -- from drug to porno rings -- and had managed to survive. Now he was going to be killed by some measly punk he surprised while burglarizing his house? The cruel irony made him want to laugh.
Instead, he did as he was instructed. With caution he raised his hands above his head before stepping back toward the middle of the foyer. He avoided standing directly under the light, trying to get a better view of the top of the steps. But he didn’t have much success; the upstairs hallway and the upper section of the stairway were hidden in shadows.
If he played his cards right, this little situation would be under his control in no time at all. He just had to keep the kid calm and make the skinny punk believe that he was the one in command. From experience Mace knew the Glock didn't have a conventional safety. All the kid had to do was pull the trigger and pull it again and again until all the rounds in the clip emptied into Mace’s body. And from what he could see in the limited light, the kid's fingers were twitching from nervousness.
Not a good sign.
Where had a young punk gotten an expensive handgun like that? It certainly hadn’t been in the house. And if it had been it would have been locked up in the gun safe.
If only he could see the boy's face. He needed to see the eyes. Mace couldn't even begin to predict what the kid would do without seeing his eyes.
“Don't you dare move or I'll blow your face off!” The kids’ voice raised an octave, making him sound more and more like… a girl.
Tension ran through Mace’s body as the boy started down the steps. At first he could see bare toes, then one slim calf, then another. His eyes flicked to the gun, then returned to the shapely naked thighs that couldn't belong to a kid – no way. Especially not a boy. Those smooth legs definitely belonged to a woman. And he couldn't wait to see the rest of her. So far, the view almost made it worth being held at gunpoint.
Almost.
He was disappointed when an oversized t-shirt – shit, was that Marmaduke on it? -- blocked his view of creamy flesh. His arms were tired, his leg throbbed painfully, and his patience was wearing thin. But he still wasn't going to move, since he had no idea who this woman was descending the stairs. His curiosity piqued when she stepped down into the light, which highlighted her long, curly red hair and made her wide, green – glaring -- eyes sparkle and snap.
A twitch shot through his lower stomach and landed in his groin. Fear or pain didn’t make him suck in his breath. It was her unrestricted breasts bobbing under the cotton shirt with each step she took. Her nipples stood out like two beacons under the worn cotton. Jesus.
He had to clear his throat twice before he could ask her, “Are you robbing this house, dressed like that?”
Jeanne St. James
erotic romance writer
My Website (ALL NEW ~~ Check it out!)
My MySpace Page
My Facebook Page
On Twitter
erotic romance writer
My Website (ALL NEW ~~ Check it out!)
My MySpace Page
My Facebook Page
On Twitter
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