L. C. Wilkinson On Tour
Today we’re thrilled to welcome L. C. Wilkinson, on tour for her latest release, All of Me. She stopped by to chat with us (all the way from Brighton, UK, don’t you love cyberspace?) and we’re so thrilled she did! Plus, she’s gotta be a kindred spirit – she loves the same Jane Austen book best, Emma.
Take it away, L.C.!
Why don’t you start by telling us about yourself?
I live in Brighton on the south coast, but I’m a northern soul; born in Liverpool, raised in north Wales and educated at Manchester University. I share my home with my fella, a musician, two ginger boys and a cat called Sheila. After years writing non-fiction (journalism, copywriting, editing) I write fiction under two different names: L. C. Wilkinson for the erotic romance and Laura Wilkinson for the women’s fiction. I’ve been lucky and had short stories and novels published. Alongside the fiction I work part-time as an editor – principally for literary consultancy Cornerstones, though I do take on freelance projects too – and a couple of days in education. Sad but true: I’ve little free time!
If you were stranded on a desert island with only five books and five CDs, what would they be? (We’ll just imagine you can play the CDs – after all, this is fiction!)
Great question! I used to play this kind of game with a dear friend I worked with as a copywriter; the days were feast or famine work-wise so we’d make up all sorts of quizzes to pass the time during the lull periods. Okay, here goes…
Books: Anna Karenina, Tolstoy; To Kill a Mocking Bird, Harper Lee; Beloved, Toni Morrison; The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy; Emma, Jane Austen.
CDs: OK Computer, Radiohead; White Album, the Beatles; Low, David Bowie; No More Shall We Part, Nick Cave; The Protecting Veil, John Tavener.
Do you read primarily print books, ebooks, or both?
Both, though I do prefer an old-fashioned paper book: paperbacks, as hardbacks are so heavy to lug around.
What are five items you can reach from where you are now sitting?
A cup of herbal tea (peppermint), my notebook, a pencil, my iPhone, a scented candle.
Tell us about your writing: How long have you been writing? What genre(s) do you write in? What have you written (short stories, novels, etc.)? What works are currently for sale? Where?
I’ve been writing for about seven years. Initially I wrote short stories, many of which were published in magazines, anthologies and digitally with providers like Ether Books. You can read some on my other blog and on the Ether app. Anthologies can be bought on Amazon, Waterstones, WH Smith and in selected bookshops as can my debut novel, BloodMining. Publication of the first novel came about after I won a competition – I’d been short-listed in two other competitions – and though the house is very small it was simply wonderful to see the book out there. All of Me is published by Xcite and available to buy at all the usual places! Here’s a link to Amazon.
What made you chose to write erotic literature in particular? Is there any other genre you’d like to write? And if so, why?
Reading erotica has been a not-so-guilty pleasure for some time, but the move into writing erotic romance came about last year when I edited a few MSs in the genre. I thought I’d like to have a go at it myself and a story that had been rattling round my head for ages found its natural home. It was such a joy to write – though writing the sex scenes was tough – and I am now totally hooked. I continue to write women’s fiction too, with another novel nudging towards an offer. Fingers crossed!
Any advice for those who want to write?
Read a lot (a helluvalot); write a lot (ditto).
What’s the most useful book on writing you’ve ever read?
How To Write by Harry Bingham; practical, erudite and laugh-out-loud funny. His section on creative writing MAs made me cry with laughter.
What’s the sexiest feature on a man to you? And on a woman? Why?
Oh, that’s easy. The brain, for both sexes. If a brain counts as a feature; it’s an organ really. Hey-ho. A nice arse, breasts, legs, eyes and so on soon pale if the person has no oomph, character-wise. If I had to go for a feature, I’d say the mouth.
Who are your latest crushes (celebrity, book character, or otherwise)? Do you ever keep those people in your mind when writing your own works?
My David Tennant crush (mostly as the Doctor) has gone on for years and, predictably, I have an enduring passion for Brad Pitt. I fell in love with Kate Atkinson’s Jackson Brodie in Case Histories and I fancy Caleb Followill of the Kings of Leon like mad. There are so many other yummy models and actors that if I list them all we’ll be here for hours. And I do tend to cast my characters as I write.
Are you a book hoarder?
‘Fraid so. My fella despairs; our dining room is wall-to-wall books and the bedroom is being invaded. I say they make interesting wall paper.
Where can fans and others find you? (email, social networking links, etc.)
My favourite hang-out is Twitter – @ScorpioScribble
Tell us about your latest release – we’d love an excerpt, too!
Here’s the blurb!
Orlando Locatelli is a successful businessman. He’s rich, clever and drop-dead gorgeous.
When the two meet, the attraction is instant. But Orlando is 15 years Flick’s junior; he’s the controlling director’s son; his stepmother is possessive and destructive. He’s trouble and he’s determined to have her.
Sparks fly when a tour romance turns into something altogether more dangerous, threatening to reveal pasts, and desires, both lovers are keen to bury.
And an excerpt!
Mr Hot led me through to a brightly lit room, the light scorching my eyes after near darkness. He pulled up a wooden stool and gestured for me to sit. I did as I was instructed. Row upon row of bottles of oil, condiments, herbs and spices lined shelves that covered an entire wall. It was a store cupboard, and the strip lighting was harsh; every fine line, blemish and open pore would be visible. Inwardly, I cursed my lack of foundation once more. I felt exposed, stripped right down, and vulnerable. I shielded my eyes, allowing my hand to drop low enough to conceal most of my face.
‘Better here, fewer people. Can I get you a drink? Cup of tea?’ he said.
‘Something stronger might be better.’ I attempted to cover my embarrassment with humour. He did not laugh, or even smile. ‘Water would be great. Wouldn’t do to be seen drunk. Imagine what they’d make of that,’ I added quickly.
Through a gap in my fingers I watched him push open swing doors with considerable force and sashay out, revealing the bustle of a hectic lunchtime kitchen; he barked out an instruction in a language I couldn’t quite place. Italian probably, possibly Spanish. This was no ordinary waiter in more ways than one. He returned moments later.
Despite his blistering good looks, or maybe because of them, I wanted to get the hell out of there; I gulped down the water. ‘Thank you. Can you show me the other way out now please?’
‘It’s not too soon?’
‘I have to be somewhere.’
At the exit, he paused and looked into my eyes, the hazel fading to black as his pupils dilated. He ran his tongue over those sensual lips. I couldn’t breathe and for a moment I thought I might pass out. The attraction I’d felt was mutual; he was devouring me with his gaze; his desire was palpable. Had it been a movie, or an episode of the cheap drama I’d been in, we’d have thrown ourselves at each other, kissed passionately, before being interrupted by an angry chef brandishing a meat knife. I coughed; it broke the spell.
He leant forward to grab the door handle, the bouquet of his aftershave mingling with a distinct, very masculine aroma. I was soooo tempted, but this was real life, and my personal life was enough of a mess. He opened the door, leant forward to look up and down the street before turning back to me and nodding that it was clear. Neither of us knew what to say. I had no idea if he knew, understood, or even cared why the press were hounding me, and I wasn’t inclined to explain.
I held out my hand. ‘Thank you. You saved my life.’
He took my hand, but rather than shaking it, as I had intended, he lifted it to his mouth and kissed the back. A charge raced up my arm, exploding in my mouth and groin. ‘It was nothing. Anyone would have done the same.’
‘Thanks anyway,’ I gasped. I had to get out of there, and quick. My internal red light was flashing: danger, danger, danger.
I stepped into the street and, unsure which direction to take, turned right and walked; the skin on my hand still thrumming from the touch of his lips. I wanted to look back, and tried desperately to resist the urge. After a few metres, I gave up and turned my head. There was no sign of him.
I grew up in north Wales and now I live by the sea in Brighton with three fellas (my ginger sons and my husband) and a cat called Sheila. After many years working as a journalist, copywriter and editor of hagsharlotsheroines.com, I write fiction and work part-time as an editor for Cornerstones Literary Consultancy. All of Me is my first romance for Xcite. I hope that it is the first of many.