First things first, tell us a little bit about yourself.
I like my reads fast, hot, and edgy, and strive to give my own stories the same intensity. After venturing into dirty inner-city crime drama with my debut novel Wild Hearted, I divide my writing time between psychological thriller, erotic contemporary romance, and dripping erotica.
Q) Let’s start with the basics. Why write?
I love playing with words, love plotting multi-layered stories, love developing characters, love creating drama, and more than anything, I love being part of the writing and publishing community. The feedback from readers, fellow authors, reviewers, editors, and publishers in the two years following my first release has been so gratifying and encouraging, I can’t imagine not writing!
Q) And why did you write this book? Why now?
I got the idea for the Hot Model Mine series, “erotic romance author meets cover model of her book”, in March and decided to explore it. Not that I didn’t already have enough works in progress, lol, but once I started visualizing some of the scenes—the hotter ones, may I add—I had to give it top priority and knew I could get book one written relatively quickly.
Q) Are you ever conscious of wanting to share a message through your work? If so, what is it?
Yes, I have some pretty strong socio-political opinions and, in the beginning, used my writing to get messages “out to the world”. These included deep-felt sympathy, acceptance and respect (not just superficial tolerance) for society pariahs such as the poor and the persecuted in general, Native Americans and the Romani in particular, alcoholics, drug addicts, the homeless, the lonely, the mistreated, the abused... I’ve also discussed fathers’ rights, children’s rights, single parents’ rights, gay and bisexuals’ rights, the sick/disabled and elderly’s rights... To mention just a few!
Q) If I gave you permission to rewrite the first book you ever had published, would you?
Funny you should ask, as I’m halfway through comprehensive editing of my debut novel. Almost two years after its publication, I’ve learned enough about the writing craft to take upon myself the task of cleaning and tightening it. Does that sound pretentious?
That doesn't sound pretentious at all! ;-)
Q) Are you the same author now as you were when you started?
No. As mentioned earlier, I started out as an angry writer sending out messages, and now that I’ve gotten some of those off my chest, I’ve become a calmer person writing stories for the fun of it and focusing on quality. I’ve also acquired a much-needed dose of self-esteem lately, upon receiving Evernight’s special honor Editor’s Pick. It means I’m not questioning my writing abilities nearly as much as I used to, and I trust my author “flair” a lot more.
Q) It’s Friday night and I’m going to give you two hundred quid to spend getting up to whatever mischief you want. Which of your characters are you going to take with you and what are you going to do?
Oh, tough question. Mischief? I think I’d invite Shawn Torien, the rock star hero of my second book My Biggest Fan, because that boy is bound to bring out the best in me. Not! *laughs* First we’d get drunk senseless, and then we’d go to the coolest rock ‘n roll tattoo shop, ha ha!
Q) And finally. In a world where you and your characters co-exist, who would be your best friend, and whose invitation to dinner keeps getting lost in the mail?
My bestie would probably be Luz from Wild Hearted. She resembles me in so many ways, likes the same things, and has the same political views. We’d have tons of stuff to talk about. Whereas her boyfriend, the shrewd gangster Tomor, is a walking disaster with no social skills!
Thank you so much for having me, Douglas! Cool questions. You're very welcome! Great interview!
Here’s a little info about my new release, The Perfect Shoot (Hot Model Mine 1):
When Andrea Johnson, writing as author Cindy Vega, signed up for a Meet & Greet with the cover model of her latest book, she didn’t expect sparks to fly. Yushka is dangerously good-looking and too young for her. But their connection is instantaneous, and during a photo shoot with the two, the photographer picks up on their growing attraction. Seeing the potential for the cover photo of the century, he decides to push their comfort limits...
An assistant calls Yushka’s name. Bare-chested, the Asian hunk appears from a group of models, strolls to the spotlights, and waits in front of the camera with the confident stance of a professional.
The whole place quiets as if in awe. He’s unbelievably beautiful with his tanned, bulging muscles and washboard-abs-to-die-for. When photographer Lemaître asks him to undo his hair, a black waterfall lands on his shoulders and down his back. A few muffled feminine squeals fill the silence.
One by one, authors whose books he appears on get a few pictures taken with him in flattering positions, wrapping their arms around his back or swallowed up in his embrace, beaming like schoolgirls at their first prom.
Jealousy rips through me so violently I can barely breathe, but my time is up soon, and I hate that even more. I’m non-photogenic, and seeing pictures of myself makes me sick. I’ve chosen a sexy, black top and matching short skirt for the occasion, but looking my best doesn’t help. My stomach ties in a knot.
“Cindy Vega,” an assistant calls.
Fuck, that’s me. I’m dead.
“Go,” Laurie says, giving me a small push.
All muscles tense, I leave my safe corner and join Yushka. He greets me with a placid face, but from the warmth in his pupils, I get a feeling he’s glad to see me. Side by side, narrowing our eyes from the piercing light, we face Lemaître and wait for orders.
Damn. Being so near Yushka’s naked torso is unbearable, as is the heat from the lamps shining on us. Sweat beads roll down the sides of my chest, between my breasts. He endures, too. A thin film of sweat coats his golden skin, making it glow, but he doesn’t seem bothered.
Lemaître clears his throat. “Bon. Stand a little closer. Cindy, this is for Eden Luna Publishing’s website. Officially, we want authors happily meeting their cover models, but off the record, we want sensual, we want heat. Readers will get off seeing your pictures like they do reading your books.”
Stiff as a rod, I nod agreement. I’d half expected this. Problem is, I hate being in the spotlight with so many people watching, and I hate the notion of having my photo all over the internet.
“Sooo,” he continues, “I will ask you to just stand like this, facing me, and smile. That is all. Yushka knows what he has to do.”
Turning to my side, Yushka puts a hot hand on my stomach and the other on the small of my back. Though light, his touches destabilize me, as does the warm, musky scent sneaking to my nostrils.
“Closer,” Lemaître orders. “Bodily contact.”
Shit, I’m fucked.
The stud radiates heat as he approaches, sweaty chest sticking to my arm, heart beating against my skin. His crotch barely brushes my hip, but each pore in my body becomes acutely aware of him, on high alert. As last night’s intense arousal replays in all of me, my inner thighs clench with renewed want.
Whispers and low chuckles sound from both sides of the vast lobby. I try to forget the hundred eyes following my every move, but can’t help being distracted, bathed in full light and painfully self-conscious.
“That is better.” Like a shooting gun, Lemaître’s camera clicks and the flash blinds me repetitively. “Now, give him a smile, Cindy. You know the kind I want.”
My throat so dry I can’t speak, I turn to Yushka.
He’s very near, inches from my face, black pupils gleaming with mischief. Sweat pearls on his face, making him look sexier than ever. Long, black hairs glue to his forehead and cheeks. He smells of soap, his close shave making him look baby-faced.
Seemingly at ease, the heaving of his chest regular, he stares into my eyes. I can’t believe his confidence. Modelling is his profession, but how does he stay so fucking calm?
“You wanna give me a smile?” he whispers, warm breaths brushing my chin. Behind me, his large hand sneaks lower and palms my butt cheek. With that and his other fingers splaying on my stomach, he pulls me to him, making me feel the entire length and…hardness…of his cock on my hip.
I suck in a breath.
His lips curl up in a self-satisfied grin. “Hm, Andrea? You wanna give me a smile?”
Oh my fucking God. I can’t help but obey while my insides go up in flames.
Flashing his teeth, he kneads my ass with a strong hand and pushes his full erection against me. He knows what he’s doing, the devil. He knows slowly rubbing me with his cock turns my pussy to burning liquid.
Somewhere, a feminine gasp breaks the silence, followed by contained laughter.
“Très bien, we have a smile,” Lemaître says, camera clicking, flash shooting. “Thank you, Cindy, that will be enough. Next!”
Still grinning and holding my look, Yushka slowly backs off, leaving chillier air between us.
I’m frozen. In shock, lust, need.
“Come on, move it!” Lemaître calls. “We don’t have all day.”
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