She is one of my very favorite authors. When I discovered her Brooklyn Sinners series, I was hooked from the first word. SHE is Avril Ashton. We don’t talk a lot and we don’t hang out online together, but she’s become someone I look up to, we email sometimes, and have a deep, abiding NEED for coffee and most all things cake related. She’s no nonsense and she tells it like it is.
Please welcome her. It’s not the first time she’s been on the blog and it certainly won’t be the last.
These past few months have been filled with newness. Lot of newness. I moved my family to a new state on a whim, a hope and a prayer. Talk about new. Then I published my first self published book. Let’s not discuss that whole never say never ish. I’d always said I wouldn’t do it. So yeah, I’m steady eating crow. *coughs*
I’ve been re-evaluating my career, my process, my everything. I’d always wondered about my style. Like, what is it I’m known for? Can you pick up a book without knowing the author and be able to say yup, that’s an Avril Ashton book? After much thinking, I feel as if you should. At least, I feel as if you should know my brand and what I write, and know that it’s gonna be chock full of certain things, feel me?
I wrote So Far Gone because I wanted something short and not that complicated to take my mind away from the labyrinth of sticky ish that is my Sinners. The story wasn’t all that complex and the angst wasn’t all that deep.
In my mind.
Then I publish the book and I’m getting feedback that the book is all kinds of dark and painful. I had to question myself, like seriously? Is it really that messed up and if it is, how come I didn’t see it? Is my pain/angst threshold so jacked that I can’t even see it? Maybe my brain sorta figured hey, it’s not the Sinners, therefore it can’t be all that bad. An automatic pacifier. Crazy, but hey.
Here’s my thing: You should know by now how my stories run. I’m never going to apologize for what and how my brain translates my stories from my fingers to the page. Everything that’s there is meant to be. If you’re crying it’s because you’re meant to and if you’re all hot and bothered, embrace that, too. Now, you can step away from it, and put me on your “don’t read” list because I broke your heart. That’s sad, but hey, who am I to tell you how to feel?
I only hope to make you feel something, what that is, I have no control over.
It’s only fair that you know what to expect from my books. Let me tick them off my fingers for you. Heartbreak, pain, happiness, and arousal. Not a lot, but I’m pretty sure that about covers the range of human emotion.
I don’t know how to not make you feel something, and if I did, why would I? My goal has always been to make someone feel, to make you experience something, a genuine and valid emotion. There are authors out there who I really envy, because they can write awesomely funny and light-hearted stories that just make you laugh all day long.
That’s not me. You should know this. I don’t do much laughter.
There are authors who I envy who write amazing stories that warms the heart, but never makes you cry. It’s all a steady flow of aww.
That’s not me. You should know this.
I want to wreck you.
There’s a quote I printed out that sits on my computer desk.
“Break their hearts. Then fix it.”
That’s my goal.
To break you down. Sounds kinda horrific? It’s not. The worlds I build, the men I introduce you to aren’t the sunshiny kind, why would my books convey that? The subject matter is never soft or light-hearted, why would you expect that from me?
Loving each other isn’t easy in any of my books, why would you expect sunshine and roses and kumbaya?
I love romance. I love sex. I love angst and conflict and happily ever after. I give all of that to you. In my way. Don’t expect me to be someone I’m not, to write something that isn’t me.
Picking up one of my books ensures that you will go through it. You will run the gamut. I go through it, don’t for a second think that I don’t. I’m there on the frontlines, hurting before anyone else does. Don’t for a second think I’m writing my books just for the shock value, angst for angst sake.
But reading one of my books means that you understand, this is how I do things. It’s my way. Not for the faint of heart. If you’re looking for sweet and uneventful, my books are as far from it as you can get. They’re not the safe, sigh-worthy kind.
They’re the snot-crying, heartbreaking kind.
It’s for some. Not for all.
And you know what? I’m fine with that.
SO FAR GONE
One night? Feels like three years…
Jacob Donnelly wants something new. Something different. Which is why he’s got a one-way ticket to New York and his bags packed. One last night out to the bar finds him in a sexy stranger’s bed, giving in to an explosive chemistry Jacob had been searching for, but never found. Until now. It’s too bad he’s leaving town, although once he finds out his one night stand’s true identity, Jacob can’t get away fast enough.
Cash Warner made a mistake. It doesn’t matter that he’d never felt anything like the fire generated between him and Jacob. He doesn’t plan to ever see his one-night hookup ever again. Except he does. When the reality of what they’d done fully sets in, Jacob flees, leaving Cash struggling with how to deal with the bitter taste of betrayal he can’t escape. Because even with Jacob gone for years, Cash can’t stop wanting more of that one night. Fate conspires against them once again, bringing Jacob home after tragedy strikes, and they’ll find it near impossible to keep their distance despite being committed to other people.
Time fell away and he became lost in the sight of the man he watched. Something about this Cash perked his body right up, made his blood sing. Tonight of all nights. The feeling was bittersweet. He’d never had a reaction to another man quite like this.
Jacob jerked his head up and almost gasped. Cash sank into the chair opposite him, dark gaze intent.
“You been looking at me.”
That wasn’t a question. “I—” Jacob licked his lips.
“You.” The word mocked Jacob, but Cash’s gaze was searching.
“Yes.” Jacob cleared his throat. “I’ve been watching you.”
“You looking for something in particular?” Cash lifted a dark eyebrow and Jacob stared at him, trying to gather his thoughts. Cash didn’t break the gaze, he held Jacob tightly to him as surely as if they were locked in an embrace.
“Yes,” Jacob said slowly. “I was looking for something, but I…I think I may have found it.”
Cash blinked then, heat blazing in his eyes. He nodded once, but didn’t move otherwise. “I’m Cash.”
“Cash.” Jacob spoke his name for the first time testing it out. He liked it. “Jacob. I’m Jacob.”
“Jacob.” Cash smiled and Jacob shivered. “You should go to the men’s room, Jacob.”
His brain wasn’t working properly, wasn’t getting enough oxygen or something because for a second there, Jacob felt bewildered. Lost. He couldn’t process the words Cash spoke. He stared and Cash stared back, waiting…waiting…
“Oh.” He jerked backward then jumped to his feet. Cash’s gaze dropped to Jacob’s crotch. He followed the gaze then cursed.
“Shit.” He was hard. Clearly.
Cash’s lips quirked. “Bathroom?”
Jacob inhaled. “Yes.” One last gaze into Cash’s eyes and Jacob went. He walked to the bathroom on unsteady legs, palms sweaty, fists opening and closing as he tried to grasp and identify what it was he was feeling. He didn’t understand it.
All Romance: http://bit.ly/SFG01sh
A Caribbean transplant, Avril now lives in Stone Mountain, GA., 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 the 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 Cave, Evernight Publishing, eXtasy Books, Secret Cravings Publishing and Total-e-Bound.
Friend me on: http://facebook.com/writeravrilashton
Yesterday was Easter. Baskets. Eggs. Candy. Some treasure hunt of some sort. Easter dresses and suits. Church and religious connotations. Family dinner.
My tradition is watching a good dinner and watching Easter Parade with Judy Garland and Fred Astaire. I’ve been watching it for years now and have my grandparents to thank for my love of old movies like this. The talent of the dancers/singers was incredible, even if the screenplays weren’t all that…
One of my favorite numbers in Easter Parade is Fred Astaire in the toy store dancing and singing…
Do you enjoy old movies?