Author Spotlight: Jeanne St. James

Please welcome Jeanne St. James, who is here today to talk about her new release, Double Dare, a steamy m/m/f menage available from Loose Id and an ebook and a paperback.

Blurb for Double Dare: What could be better than waking up next to a hot guy? Waking up sandwiched between two of them.

Quinn Preston, a financial analyst, is not happy when her friends dare her to pick up a handsome stranger at a wedding reception. What better reason to give up men when her previous long-term relationship had not only been lackluster in the bedroom but he had cheated?

Logan Reed, a successful business owner, can’t believe that he’s attracted to the woman in the ugly, Pepto-Bismol pink bridesmaid dress. And to boot, she’s more than tipsy. After turning down her invitation for a one-night stand, he finds her in the parking lot too impaired to drive. He rescues her and takes her home. His home.

The next morning Quinn’s conservative life turns on its ear when Logan introduces her to pleasures she never even considered before. And to make things more complicated, Logan already has a lover.

Tyson White, ex-pro football player, is completely in love with Logan. He has mixed emotions when Logan brings home Quinn. But the dares keep coming...

Tell us about Double Dare.

My last release came out in ebook in January and is now available in print. It’s my first book that has come out in print and I’m a bit excited about it! It’s titled Double Dare and I’ve included the blurb and a small excerpt. I had a lot of fun writing it because it was my first ménage I’ve written (m/m/f) and my first book that had m/m sex in it. It actually started out as an m/f erotic romance with the hero being Logan Reed and the heroine being Quinn Preston. While I was writing, Tyson White popped into the story… and away I went…

What gave you the idea for this story?

Actually the movie “The Wedding Crashers,” though Double Dare has nothing to do with the movie… But I wrote the opening scene after that movie and then sat on it for a while. (Which is typical for me – I write a scene and then I file it away for the future.) Then one day I just ran with it and it took a life of its own. Movies and books usually spark an idea for me – I just think they put me in a creative mood… my idea usually has nothing to do with the book I’m reading or the movie I’m watching, but my imagination starts running wild.

Why do you write?

Fantasy. Pure and simple. I can get in my characters heads and make them do what I want. I can put them in situations I want and determine how it ends up. I control their fate. That gives me a lot of power! LOL!

What do you like to read?

I wish I had time to read. However, I read only the romance genre but different subgenres. I enjoy erotic romance, paranormal, historical, urban fantasy, you name it. M/F, ménages, M/M. I got a Sony ereader for Christmas and I haven’t used it yet. I have loads of books on my TBR pile.

How did you start writing?

I started writing around the age of thirteen. I used it as therapy during my teenage years, which were full of angst of course. I wrote my first novel about a teenage girl who lived with a gang. It was in first person and I’m sure if I could find it, it would be awful. But I worked on it for a long time and enjoyed writing it.

Was there a time when you almost gave up? What made you keep going?

I almost give up all the time! LOL! Writing is a hard business to get into and be successful. And you have to be creative… Some days I just don’t feel that way. I wrote my first published novel, Banged Up, years and years ago. I sent it to contests where it did well and then I sat on it. I didn’t have the confidence to finish it and send it anywhere. So I really didn’t write for a while. When ebooks and erotic romance got popular I dusted it off, revised it and not long after I submitted it, Banged Up was accepted by Liquid Silver Books. It’s gotten great reviews. That spurred me to write Rip Cord and Double Dare, both accepted quickly by publishers. Now I am slacking again and I need a push to get going to finish some other works in progress. What really keeps me going is when I hear from a reader who loved my story!

What is your proudest moment as an author?

Finding out co-workers FOUGHT (yes, fought!) over my book. And they were close too and then didn’t speak for days. Guess what? Neither got to read it. I told them to buy their own copies. Ok, I don’t know if that SHOULD be my proudest moment but it makes me laugh. I never would have thought people would be fighting to read my stories.

Below is a seductive excerpt from Double Dare:

Logan ran a finger around his collar one more time. Why did it feel like a freakin’ noose?

His sister was out on the dance floor with someone’s husband, having a good time. With the man’s wife’s blessing, of course. The eight-months-pregnant woman, her feet propped up on a chair on the other side of the room, was smiling and encouraging her husband to have fun while she rested.

Logan sighed and glanced at his watch. It was only seven. He looked down at the plate of food in front of him. He’d hardly touched it. He didn’t want any tilapia or whatever the hell it was. He wanted a thick, juicy steak slathered in spicy BBQ sauce. With a big, fat baked potato dripping in butter and sour cream. Yeah, now that was a meal. Not some twigs of asparagus and a dried-up fish filet. He got that crap at home as it was.

The only highlight of the night so far was the chick at the bar. The way she’d looked at him had made him instantly hard. He had to finally turn around and walk away before he threw her on the bar and tossed her freaking ugly-ass dress over her head.

That would have gone over well with his sister, banging one of her friends on the bar. In public.

He unwrapped one of the little Hershey Kisses decorating the table and popped it into his mouth. He chased it with a sip of Jack and Coke -- the whole reason he had approached the bar in the first place.

He could probably slip out of the party, and no one would even notice. But his sister would never forgive him, and he’d been on the receiving end of her anger in the past. Many times. It wasn’t pleasant.

Basically it was suffer now or suffer later. Hell, he was already here anyway.

He looked at his watch again: 7:02. He groaned.

When he glanced up again, he saw a pink vision stalking toward him, and he sat up straighter. Shit, the cause of his earlier hard-on was coming his way.

She looked determined, and she still had a grip around her glass like it was a lifeline.

She stopped directly in front of him and put one hand on her hip.

“Are you Logan Reed?”

Oh shit. “Yes?”

“You don’t know for sure?”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“Are you fucking anybody right now?”

“Right this minute?” He glanced around to see if anyone else was hearing this surreal conversation. Luckily no one was paying attention.

“No. Do you have anyone who is going to get mad if I ask you to dance?”

“Uh. No.” Well, hell, that was a unique way of asking someone to dance.

She placed her drink on the table, and he asked, “Is that still your second one?”

“No, third.”

“I was afraid of that.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled, but he was too heavy for her to lift, so he unfolded himself from the chair to accommodate her.

“Are you asking me to dance?”

“You have a problem with that?”

“Not at all.” He interlaced his fingers with hers and led her to a corner of the dance floor. Luckily for him, the DJ had turned the lights down and was playing a series of slow tunes. Ones he could dance to. There was no way he was doing the chicken dance or line dancing. He had his limits.

As the slow, wailing tune blared through the large speakers, Logan slid his palms around her waist, his splayed fingers coming to rest at the small of her back. The fabric of her dress felt terrible, and he didn’t know why women wore shit like that and suffered. The dress certainly wasn’t flattering.

But it wasn’t the outer package that mattered to Logan; it was the prize he found inside when it was unwrapped.

He stepped in a little closer and pulled her hips against his. He swore he heard a little gasp. He smiled into her overstyled, dark blonde hair and nuzzled it. Underneath all the hairspray, he caught a scent of wildflowers. It smelled nice.

“What’s your name?” he murmured into her hair.

“What?” She turned her head a bit, and she ended up nuzzling his neck. Her lips, the shape of which reminded him of an archer’s bow, were warm and soft, and he could detect the fruity scent of the slammers on her breath.

She was average height for a woman, which made her a bit shorter than him, so he had to lean down a bit to place his lips against her ear.

“What’s your name?”

He felt the shiver of her body against him, so he traced the delicate shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue. The touch was light enough, but she unmistakably felt it. In response, she arched her back slightly, pressing her hips into his.

“Quinn,” she finally answered him, her voice breathless.

“Quinn,” he repeated while moving one hand up her back to the bare skin rising out of her dress. He drew the pad of his thumb along the smooth expanse of flesh, along her exposed spine, moving up to her neck to cradle it in his palm. His thumb continued to stroke her skin along the vein in her neck.

He pulled away a little and looked down into her face. Her eyes were heavy, and her lips were parted. Her breaths were short and quick.

He struggled to keep from thrusting against her. If she looked this good in that god-awful dress, he wondered what she looked like in normal clothes. Or no clothes at all.

Or just a pair of handcuffs.

His balls tightened, and he released a long breath out of his nose to steady his pulse.

“Quinn, do you like sex?” He placed his cheek against hers, and they swayed to the music, their hips, their thighs brushing against each other.

Her eyelids fluttered a bit before she answered, “Sometimes.”

“Why only sometimes?” he whispered against her ear.

She shrugged slightly, and one of her off-the-shoulder sleeves slid down a bit, exposing more creamy flesh.

Logan brushed his lips along her collarbone. It was delicate and covered with smooth skin. When he got to her shoulder, he worked his way back, and in the hollow of her neck, he placed a kiss.

There was a groan. He didn’t know whom it came from. Her? Him? He didn’t care. His hand at the small of her back slipped lower, to just where the rise of her ass was. The fabric of the dress kept him from feeling details, but his imagination took over.

One song transitioned into another, and they weren’t even aware of the other couples dancing nearby.

His hips kept a steady side-to-side rhythm, while his hand on her back kept her close and in perfect time with him.

He was hard. There was no doubt she could feel it. Even with the yards of fabric around her midsection, her belly brushed against his length, teasing his cock.

“What kind of sex do you like?” His voice sounded low and gruff to his own ears.

“The kind when I get to come.”

Logan chuckled against her temple and slipped the hand he had around her neck to her shoulder. His fingers brushed her skin lightly. He couldn’t help but notice goose bumps suddenly appearing everywhere he touched her. Which meant her nipples were probably hard and aching for his fingers and mouth.

Her dress had slipped down a bit, and the neckline rode low on her chest. The fabric rested just on the crest of her breasts; he could see she wasn’t wearing a bra. In fact, he thought he could see the crescent edge of one nipple, even in the dim light.

He wanted to dip his tongue between her breasts.

“Quinn?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you ask me to dance?”

“Because my friends…” Her soft voice faded off.

“Your friends?” He prodded.

“My friends dared me to. They think I am such a loser when it comes to men.”

“Ah.”

“I always pick Mr. Wrong.”

“Am I supposed to be Mr. Right?” He brushed the backs of his knuckles over the rise of her breasts.

“No. Just Mr. Right Now.”

She was direct. He wondered if it was just the alcohol talking. “So you just want to use me.”

“Basically.”

Her boldness wavered, disappointing him a bit.

He raised his eyebrows. “Huh. And you don’t think I’d care?” He leaned back a bit and looked down at her, her skin a canvas for the colorful light bouncing off the mirrored disco ball above the dance floor.

She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Do you?”