Tina Donahue gets down deep and dark! Comment and win!

We’re talking to Tina Donahue today, Ellora’s Cave’s new sensational contemporary erotic romance author.  She’s touring her second new book, Deep, Dark, Delicious, and today she’s celebrating the launch by giving away one of her books, but the choice is yours.  If you win you can request either Adored, Close to Perfect or the Bad Boys with Red Roses anthology in which Tina’s “Tempt Me, Tease Me, Thrill Me” story appears.

Tina will post four questions in all throughout the day. The first person to email her at tina@tinadonahue.com with all four questions answered correctly wins their choice of one of the above books.

Let’s get to know Tina.

______________

Who are your favourite authors at Ellora’s Cave (and you don’t have to say me!)?

In no particular order and certainly this isn’t the sum total of my list but just a taste: Adele Dubois, V. J. Devereaux, Nina Pierce, Naima Simone and, of course, you Tracy. And I’m not just saying that ‘cause I’m here. :)

What is your favourite novel cover (can be from anywhere)?

A Hunger Like No Other by Kresley Cole.

What’s the best Hero Moment you’ve ever seen in film?

In The Last of the Mohicans when Daniel-Day Lewis was with Madeleine Stowe in a cave and he had to leave in order to make them safe and he told her he’d be back. Wow. I would’ve waited for him even if I didn’t believe I’d ever see him again – the moment was that good.

What’s the best Hero Moment you’ve ever read in a book?

In Other People by Sol Stein, one of my all-time favourite books, Tomassy, the attorney/hero has been fighting his feelings for Francine, the heroine who was raped early on in the book. She loves him and isn’t afraid to show it, but intimacy scares the hell out of him. At the very end…and I do mean the very end, he finally opens his heart to her. The last line of the book (I’m paraphrasing here) was: He led Francine into his no longer private bedroom. Damn. I was crying and giggling and I just didn’t want that sucker to end.

What reading device do you use for reading ebooks on?

Computer. I’m stuck in front of one all day for work, so I got my comfy chair and the fridge nearby, so I’m all set.

Your favourite romantic suspense author?

Oddly enough, I like the classics for suspense. I thought Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier was great. To this day, I can see Manderlay and feel the tension between the heroine and Mrs. Danvers. I also think Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre had a lot of romantic suspense in it.

Your favourite historical romance author?

Here I go back to contemporary authors and it would be a toss-up between Patricia Grasso, Lisa Plumley and Celeste Bradley.

Your favourite historical era?  (extra credit for telling us why)

Late 1400s in Spain. I wrote a Spanish historical for the Kensington Precious Gems line and fell in love with the period and the culture. I’ve been working on another historical in that time period for years…just haven’t finished it yet.

Your favourite contemporary romance author(s)?

Well, outside of me (he-he), I’d have to say (and, again, in no particular order nor is this list exhaustive) Jill Monroe, Emma Holly, Nancy Warren, and Donna Kauffman.

If someone offered you immortality, but you could never write again…would you take the offer?

No – one, I wouldn’t want to live forever. I’d miss my friends and unless there was a provision for no wrinkles and sagging skin, I definitely wouldn’t like how I’d look. Two – writing is what makes my day worthwhile…it’s why I get up so early in the morning. It’s my lifeblood. I couldn’t live without it.

What do you want your epitaph to read, at the end of your life?

Tina did it her way, whether anyone liked it or not.

What are you currently reading?

No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy

What will you be reading next?

Probably the books sent to me by the RWA for the Rita contest which I’m helping to judge. I’ve discovered a lot of new authors this way and some of them have become my favourites.

The Desiree Staccato

In honour of Desiree Holt who started this Saturday Night Live style tradition:

• Favourite colour?  Blue
• Favourite drink?  Chocolate milk
• Favourite writing outfit?  Sweat pants and a tee shirt, or shorts and a tee shirt, depending on the weather.
• Favourite food(s)? Mexican (anything, I love it all) Italian (ditto)
• Favourite music? Soft rock
• Favourite sport? Figure skating
• Favourite body part? On me? My eyes. On a guy? Shoulders, butt, hands, etc. etc. etc.
• Favourite spot in the world?  Southern California
• Favourite movie? Impossible to say, I like too many genres
• Favourite TV show?  A tie between Top Chef and Iron Chef
• Favourite flower? Bird of Paradise
• Favourite thing to do at knock-off time?  Watch the Food Network competitions

Tell us about your book.

It’s a contemporary erotic romance – what I like to call ‘heat with heart’. It’s not just about the sex, it’s about the emotions and love. Here’s a blurb:

Deep, Dark, Delicious  – A wickedly sensual feast…

Eden DeCarlo may have narrowly lost Miami’s best chef competition and the prize money she desperately needs, but she has caught the eye of dangerously virile Rafael Zayas, one of the judges and a wealthy restaurateur. Despite her vow not to let any man derail her life, Eden’s captivated by Rafe’s imposing masculinity, then challenged by the business deal he offers. He’ll invest in her new venture if, for one month, she can satisfy his culinary expectations and the sexual attraction they both feel. Dominant and unashamed, Rafe knows what he wants when it comes to carnal pleasure and will spare no seduction to have Eden in all the ways he demands – naked, wanting, submissive. Within thirty days, he will teach her the delights of yielding to passion, relinquishing all control to him and fulfilling her deepest, darkest and most delicious desires.

And an excerpt – (PG 13 if possible)

She didn’t respond or leave to get the sheet. Her thumb had reached the bumpy skin on his biceps, halting on the uneven flesh and then investigating again. “What’s this?” She lifted his tee’s sleeve. Air hissed through her teeth at the brutal scar. “How’d you get this?” Her dismay matched his mother’s and Victor’s whenever they found his behavior questionable. “Were you in an accident?”

Rafe regarded what he could of the discolored wound, eleven inches total, stretching from his upper arm to his shoulder blade, the surface craggy, ugly. “You find it disgusting?”

“What? Of course not.” Indignant, she slapped his forearm with the back of her hand, a lover’s blow.

He leveled his gaze on her. “Ouch.”

She laughed. Her features relaxed. “What happened, Rafe? Were you riding a motorcycle? Did a drunk driver hit you?”

“No.” He smoothed down his sleeve. “The edge of the wooden raft my parents used to escape Cuba tore my arm and shoulder when I fell from it.”

Her mouth formed a shocked O. “How old were you?”

“Seven.” He smiled. “A long time ago. Completely forgotten. Not worth mentioning again.”

She chided gently, “Liar.”

His smile fell away. At the sorrow in her eyes, his heart skipped several beats. “You want to know about it?”

“Do you mind telling me?”

He didn’t and did. Once more, she had him questioning his feelings. He ached for her to know him, to accept his past no matter how harsh it had been. On the other hand, he dreaded her pity.

Her steady, accepting gaze gave him the courage to continue. “The raft was little more than several doors nailed together, though big enough for me, my mother, father and older brother Victor. At the last possible moment, my mother’s only brother Gerardo begged us to take him and his family. It wasn’t a question as to whether we’d do it, but how we’d succeed in getting to this country. With the addition of him, his wife and three children, ranging in age from an infant to five years old, the raft was too crowded.” He recalled the waves jostling it. His thin shirt and pants drenched from the water’s spray. “My cousin Javier, the five-year-old, fell against me as the raft hit a swell. I lost my balance and tumbled over the side. The water was cold, yet I was strangely calm going under. It was so quiet. Never have I heard such an absence of sound. When I bobbed to the surface, a pain ran from my arm to my shoulder. It felt as if I’d been burned. I learned later the raft had hit me. In addition to the wood, several nails ripped through my skin. Uncle Gerardo reacted first, diving in to save me. He managed to get me back on the raft, but he wasn’t a well man. Too many years of poor nutrition and hard work had made him old. My father tried to reach him, but the next wave washed him away. He drowned.”

Eden heard the shame in his voice, his guilt for having caused such a thing. She rested her free hand on the side of his face, feeling the bite of his beginning beard on her thumb and palm.  The bristles were so adult and male while his heart still grieved like a child’s. “It wasn’t your fault. You were a little boy.”

Although he nodded, his eyes said he didn’t believe her.

“Your first restaurant here was Querido Tío – beloved uncle. For him?”

He put his hand over hers. “You think me too sentimental, no?”

“I think of those many relatives you have working at your restaurants, your cousin Javier is no doubt among them.”

His quick smile pushed his cheek into her palm. “He’s the VP of marketing. In high school and college he was the valedictorian.”

Eden bet Rafe had been in the first row of the audience, cheering Javier on. She tried to imagine having such a devoted family and pictured Rafe with his own children, daughters and sons he’d adore, children he’d never give up. Perhaps he’d meet their mother after his thirty days here were over. He’d indulge himself in this house, holding nothing back. Eden wouldn’t either, but it wouldn’t go beyond sex. She’d miss him terribly when he left, she couldn’t lie to herself about it, but she’d move on. She’d done so with her mom.

His smile dimmed as though reading her mind or her face. “What is it?”

She lied. “I was thinking about your aunt. What happened to her?”

Gently, his fingers squeezed hers. “A few years after we reached Miami she remarried and had two daughters with her new husband. Her youngest is my godchild.”

Happiness for the girl merged with Eden’s sadness for children who weren’t as lucky. Not wanting to dwell on it, she backed up, removing her hand from his face. “I’ll get the sheet.” She laid the flashlight on the counter and padded into the utility room. The bed linen was still warm from her dryer. She held its fragrant cleanliness to her nose and mouth. In a little while, the cotton would smell of him.

A shudder ran through her. He’d been here less than an hour and too quickly she’d revealed things he had no business knowing and encouraged him to share his past, which increased her admiration and desire for him. Eyes closed, fingers fisted in the sheet, she ordered herself to get a grip, to stop her control from crumbling.

At the doorway to the kitchen, her step paused. He was on one knee, his head bent to the tool box, his tee slung over the stove’s handle, his chest naked.

Anticipation bubbled through her brazenly. Her fingers and toes tingled. Firm, bronze muscles draped his broad shoulders, biceps, pecs and torso. A mewl snagged on the back of her throat. Dark, silky hair peeked from beneath his arms. His flat nipples were nearly as dark as his eyes, his chest smooth, his skin flawless except for his scar and a few moles.

Hopelessly drawn to his male beauty and shocking wound, she stepped into the room, her pulse pumping crazily.

His attention moved from the epoxy putty and C-clamp in his hand to her. He smiled.

Eden sank to her knees and lifted the sheet to show him she had it, relieving her of having to speak or trust her voice. With jittery hands, she smoothed the brown-and-gold striped fabric over the bottom of the cabinet then sat back on her heels, waiting.

Rafe handed her the flashlight. The top of it drooped between her legs like a monstrous phallus. His hooded eyes noted it. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll have this fixed in no time.”

Her body recognized his promise as a good thing, grateful she wouldn’t have to wait too long for the inevitable, upstairs in her bed. Unconvinced, her heart pounded so hard the base of her throat hurt, scraping her voice. “Watch your head.” She leaned forward, her hand on the back of it, her fingers lost in his thick, shiny hair as she guided him beneath her sink.

Rafe’s eyes dipped to her breasts. Hers trailed over his taut pecs, flexing deliciously as his hands went to the top of the cabinet and he slid inside, his face to the left of the leak.

Seizing the moment, her gaze rode him. His body was in such prime condition, she could count his abs. Dark hairs swirled around his navel and arrowed down his belly, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. A solid ridge rose behind his fly. Her shoulders bunched. It took all of her will not to press her mouth to him.

“Is this the only leak?” he asked, tapping the pipe with the side of his thumb.

She nodded, her eyes journeying past his sturdy thighs to his huaraches. The sandals revealed his large feet and long toes.

“Eden.”

A surge of moisture wet her underwear. Her face inched back to his, shadowed by the cabinet. “Yes?”

“The flashlight?”

She looked at it stupidly, then realized what he wanted and directed the beam to where he needed to work. “This okay?”

“A little more to the left. There – stop.” He studied the flaw. “Not as bad as I thought. This shouldn’t take more than a few minutes. When I’m through you can show me our bedroom.”

Her fingers tightened around the flashlight. Its beam jumped, shining in his eyes.

“Eden.” Even as he squinted, his tone remained patient and unruffled.

“Sorry.” She redirected the beam, hearing the word ‘our’ in her mind. She’d expected to share her bed with him, not the room. At night, she figured she’d go to the guesthouse in back. Upon turning eighteen, she’d moved there. It had given her a measure of independence, while still being close to her grandmother. She hadn’t returned to the house until after the woman passed. Now, she was ready for the guesthouse again, to have time away from Rafe, to put their arrangement into perspective. This was nothing more than transitory lust and passing sex. Trish would’ve accused her of playing it safe and she’d be damned right.

“What is it?” he asked as he had before. “Isn’t our room ready?”

She looked at him. His eyes glittered in the beam. “Everything’s been prepared.” Floors and furniture polished, dresser drawers and closet emptied, bed linen changed.

“Good.” He began his repair. “I can’t wait to have you.”

___________________

To buy Deep, Dark, Delicious from Ellora’s Cave click here.

To visit Tina’s website…Blog…Book Trailer of Deep, Dark, Delicious…Facebook.

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