I’d like to thank Lissa for having me on. She suggested I talk about the Brooklyn Sinners series, give some insights into the creation, the stories and the characters, so I will. There may be some spoilers so cover your eyes if you don’t wanna know stuff.
It could be great stuff *wink*
Right now there are two books available in the Brooklyn Sinners series, Love the Sinner and Sinner, Savior which recently released.
The idea for LtS came to me simply: a good guy falls in love with a bad guy. Okay. Cool. What else? Rihanna’s Man Down came out and suddenly I had a scene. Someone gets shot. Who and why? I worked out those questions and the what-ifs, with the shooting scene as the central theme and working my way out. The result was the first chapter of Love the Sinner.
I originally planned for this to be a two-book series centered on Gabe from LtS and his brother Kane. I had no plans to give Pablo from Sinner, Savior a book. None. Here’s a tip when reading my books; if a secondary character has a common-as-hell name, he’s not getting a story. LOL Sorry, that’s how I roll. So I named Angelo’s best friend Pablo and wrote him off as just the friend, nothing more. Then came the birthday party in LtS and suddenly things are changing. I’m typing and literally screaming out loud, “What? No way!” What was up with this guy just bum-rushing his way into my story and changing stuff?
I ignored him.
Then Angelo <spoiler alert> goes to jail and Pablo takes over the gang and I knew he won’t be letting me pass him by. The plan was to go from Gabe and Angelo (Love the Sinner) to Kane and Mr. S (A Sinner Born) but noo, Pablo was all up in my head talking ‘bout “Chick you broke my heart, you better fix that ish.”
I mean, the guy just insists upon himself.
I listened to him.
Here’s what I can tell you about the series: After A Sinner Born, there are two more books to be written. That’s right. You heard it here first, exclusively. Both couples are introduced in Sinner, Savior. One couple is featured prominently and the other is carefully hidden. Maybe I’ll share one day soon. If someone finds the right thing to bribe me with, or the incriminating evidence to blackmail me. There are no plans for other books beyond the five. The last two have no titles yet and will be shorter works. Novellas.
What’s also included in Sinner, Savior: We see more of Mr. S or Syren Rua. First introduced in Love the Sinner, readers know Mr. S is masquerading as Faro. In SS Syren also features prominently and we see him flirty, sexual, funny and easy going. I can tell you this, Syren is a man with a lot of faces. He wears many hats and is a lot of things to a lot of people, none of them real or authentic. In writing Syren’s book, I delve into a lot of dark things which triggers a whole bunch of personal and emotional stuff for me.
It’s hard, but needs addressing.
Ooh. Remember the Coney Island penthouse in LtS? It’s also in Sinner, Savior and methinks will show up in A Sinner Born. It appears that’s way all the men go to make nookie. Heh.
Sinner or Savior? Each man has a choice to make. It should be simple. It never is.
Gun runner Pablo Castillo has cemented his reputation in the gun trade as callous and cold-hearted. Personal feelings no longer matter, not with everyone out to make him a sacrifice on their way to the top. He remains untouchable, until a meeting with a rival gang leader and a new deal brings him face-to-face with temptation.
Dev is the right hand to a sadistic bastard out for blood and glory. He hides his true feelings of distaste for his boss, not the least of his many secrets. He could’ve sworn those secrets were safe, but after meeting Pablo he’s not so sure. The two men come together in a heated affair neither can deny, battling themselves, each other and a deadly enemy bent on spilling blood. Pablo and Dev will have to stick together or walk away from a love neither man expected to find. The choice should be simple. It never is.
Reader Advisory: Contains brief scenes of gang-related violence.
At Ellora’s Cave: http://bit.ly/RDZ4wm
Done with his shower, Pablo stepped out with a shudder. The cool breeze scattered goose bumps over his skin. Water dropped from his body and pooled at his feet on the exposed tiles, but he ignored it and opened the mirrored medicine cabinet.
He poked around the bottles of painkillers and Vaseline in search of a disposable razor. He’d forgotten to get himself shaped up and his beard was coming in hot and heavy. No razors, but a folded piece of paper tucked in between a box of bandages and a bottle of peroxide caught his attention. He picked it up and slowly opened it after closing the cabinet.
It was a drawing. A very good drawing of him.
His eyes were closed, his face relaxed as if he were sleeping. The curls on his head were a mess, every strand drawn with exquisite detail. The cop’s lashes touched his cheek, curved and shadowed perfectly. His parted lips were full.
The paper in his hand shook and Pablo blinked.
A fat drop of water landed on the drawing, on the tip of the cop’s nose.
Pablo blinked again.
Another drop of water.
The shaking grew stronger and he clenched his fist, crumbling the sketch in the lower right corner. There was a thickness in his throat, one that didn’t budge no matter how much and how often he swallowed.
Angelo drew this. Pablo knew it. In his heart. In his gut. The person who drew that picture loved his subject. It was shown with every stroke of that fucking pencil.
Every shade, every crooked line was a touch. A caress.
All the things he’d longed for in silence. In darkness. While he berated himself for feeling the way he did about his best friend, for wanting someone he knew, knew, wasn’t gay, Angelo was here. Making love to someone else.
The anger and betrayal choked him and he tore at the paper, shredding it, eyes burning.
It wasn’t fair. None of it. Angelo got to have his happy ever after and what did Pablo get? More pain than he knew what to do with. More anger drowning him, and no one to trust. No one to love.
The man he loved, loved someone else. Chose someone else. Died for someone else. And he was alone, fighting to keep his head above water and his heart still beating. But hardest yet was waking up to a life without the man he’d called his best friend.
He did his best to understand in the beginning, but here and now, faced with this, with the evidence of all he’d lost, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to move on. He’d definitely never be able to trust again, not that he ever did.
Angelo had the dubious honor of being the only man he’d trusted.
Look how well that turned out.
He’d never allow anyone the luxury of hurting him, of cutting him as deeply as Angelo had.
He held his fist up, over his head, staring into the mirror as he opened his palm and allowed the confetti to fall. On him. All on him. A reminder of just how easy it was to destroy something, someone you love.
He met his eyes in the mirror and cringed at the weakness.
“Motherfucker!” He punched the mirror and glass shattered all over the sink, sending his image shimmering out of focus and pain shooting up his arm.
He stared silently as blood dripped off his cut hand into the sink and onto the floor.
What was a little bit more blood, a little bit more pain, heaped onto the mountain he already carried with him, inside him?
His cell phone blasted the theme song for ESPN’s SportsCenter from the bedroom and he twisted away from the wrecked mirror, entering the room and grabbing the phone from the bed with his uninjured hand.
A text message from Dev. He was a block away.
Pablo quickly composed a reply with one hand, giving him instructions on the back entrance and the code to the gate. He wasn’t too worried about trusting Dev with info like that, the man had a lot to lose as well, but he’d change the code before he left. Just in case.
He pulled on a pair of jeans then went downstairs. He flicked on the light switch then ran his bleeding hand over his head with a grimace. He really needed a shave, but that would have to wait. He stood on the balcony, looking out over the amusement park as loud screams of happiness reached his ears and the sticky-sweet aroma of cotton candy and hot dogs made his stomach rumble.
He couldn’t recall the last time he ate, but food would have to take a backseat to the upcoming activities. He planned to lose himself in Dev tonight.
A knock came on the penthouse door and he swung around, taking his time as he made his way across the room. He unlocked the door and pulled it open. Dev’s eyes were somber, concern etched into his features as his gaze roamed Pablo’s face.
“Fuck! What happened?” Dev pushed his way in and grabbed Pablo’s wrecked hand. “You’re bleeding.”
Pablo frowned and yanked his hand away. “What?”
Dev gestured. “I—You’re bleeding. There’s blood on your head and neck—” He lifted his hand and Pablo flinched away.
Dev blinked. “I heard about what happened.” He licked his lips and Pablo’s body clenched. “York knows and he’s looking for any way to exploit it.”
His lips were moving, but Pablo couldn’t fully process what Dev was saying. The plain white tee he wore hugged the muscles in his forearms and the distressed jeans were snug, covering shit Pablo suddenly salivated to see.
“Hey.” Fingers cupped his jaw, warm and rough. “Castillo, you okay?”
What the fuck was with all the concern? Pablo couldn’t bear it. He yanked Dev’s hand away from his skin and pushed him up against the locked door. Satisfaction settled in his gut, hot and addicting when Dev’s eyes widened and those Goddamn lips parted.
Dev’s movements stilled.
“If you want to talk, this ain’t the place.” He watched as his breath rustled the hair brushing Dev’s forehead. “I want your mouth for something else,” he rasped. “Wrapped around my dick.”
Dev’s throat worked. His pupils dilated and Pablo rubbed against him, swallowing a moan. His prick ached with the contact but it wasn’t enough. Visions of Dev on his knees, mouth stretched wide around him, eyes bulging, sped up his hips.
Shit. He indulged in one last sweet grind before pulling away. Dev’s cheeks were flushed, eyes over-bright as his chest heaved. Pablo kept his gaze on him and palmed his own crotch.
“Get on your fucking knees.”
l always wanted to have a sexy bio, one to reflect who I am, but after drawing a blank, l could only come up with: I eat cake and I read books…ooh, and I write ‘em too. No one liked it and after massive peer-pressure and pouting, I managed something more…suitable?
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 The 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.
Friend Avril on: http://www.facebook.com/writeravrilashton