Please welcome Katlyn Conrad to my blog today and check out my interview
with her and her new book’s excerpt.
Interview with Katlyn Conrad:
When did you first know you were a writer? Please tell us about it.
When did you first know you were a writer? Please tell us about it.
I’ve
wanted to be a writer since I was a kid, and I began publishing paranormal
mystery novels through a small press a few years ago. Spirit on Fire is my first novella with Ellora’s Cave. I’m very
excited about it, but I still didn’t see myself as a writer when I got the
contract. It wasn’t until I got an agent last month that I started to think I
could call myself a writer and mean it. That feeling lasted about two weeks.
Now I feel like I can’t call myself a writer until my agent actually sells that
mystery novel! What’s wrong with me?
How
do you conduct research for your books?
Spirit on Fire has to do with shamanism,
and a friend of mine happens to be a Hungarian shaman. I’ve also taken classes
and read a lot about shamanism. I was really intrigued with the concept of the
warrior shaman, vs. the healer shaman. My heroine, Samantha, is a bit of both.
As
to the were-demon aspect of Spirit on Fire – I just ran with the idea that
paranormal creatures were all
were-beings of some sort, inhabited by a spirit from another place that made
them were. For example, werewolves are people who share their bodies with a
wolf spirit. Were-demons share with a demon-spirit. I’m pretty sure I made that
bit up, but it might be a concept from elsewhere that fell into my
subconscious, I forgot about, and then made my own. Is anything truly original
these days?
What
do your friends, family, and day job employers think about your books? Do they
support you? Or do you hide any pseudonyms from them?
They
think my writing is pretty cool, though I confess only a limited circle knows
about the paranormal erotica, and it’s written under a pseudonym.
When
do you know a story is working for you?
I
know when it’s not working for me – when I don’t want to work on it. When the
book is working, I’m eager to keep writing.
Please
tell us what inspired the book you’re spotlighting today. Is there a story
behind the story?
In
order to become a shaman, one has to go through a sort of spiritual
dismemberment. The person is essentially torn down and then spiritually rebuilt
as a shaman. I wondered how one comes out from that as a whole human. At the
beginning of the novella, my shaman, Samantha, has come through the process and
is fairly well-adjusted, though she hasn’t come into her full power as a shaman
yet. The demon-hero, Marek, has also gone through a trauma of his own and is
coping pretty well, but he still has some lessons to learn.
For
fun:
What
is your favorite go to meal?
Burritos.
I love California/Mexican food, and need to specify that because my Mexican
friends have informed me that burritos are NOT Mexican food. Fair enough.
They’re delicious.
What
is your favorite way to relax?
Reading!
Spirit on Fire
By: Katlyn Conrad
ISBN: 9781419993480
Book Length: Novella
Publisher: Ellora's Cave Publishing Inc., Imprint:
Romantica®, Line: Twilight
Format: Ebook
Shamans and Shifters, Book One
Samantha wants a normal life but the were world won’t leave
the sexy new shaman alone. An outcast, she has the potential to control were
spirits of all kinds—if only she can figure out how. When she encounters a
red-hot demon were, everything she never wanted to know about the supernatural
gets turned on its head.
The fire demon Marek claims he’s been ordered to kill
Samantha but he’s disobeying the command. He’s come to save her instead, so
they can work together against his sadistic vampire master. Demons are
notorious liars, so Samantha has her doubts but no choice. A common
cause—survival—draws them together and cool suspicion turns to sexual heat.
A Romantica® paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Excerpt
The werewolf paid cash, sliding the change into the hip
pocket of his jeans.
At the other end of the counter Samantha pretended to study
the flyers on the cork bulletin board—a high school production of The Tempest,
a ten percent discount on acupuncture, a tai chi class at the local Y. The
scent of coffee and the whir of an espresso machine filled the air, suddenly
stifling.
Samantha had time to grab coffee but not for a were
encounter. And if she was late for work again tonight she’d lose this job, just
like she had all the others.
Don’t see me. Don’t
see what I am. I am normal. I am invisible. I am shielded by a protective
light…
Too late. Her heart roller coastered downward. He was
striding toward her.
She met his eyes, determined to show no fear. The werewolf
almost looked human. His plain white tee stretched tight against washboard abs.
There was a hint of a shadow about his chiseled jaw and in her mind’s eye she
caught a flash of rumpled sheets and sex. Like a photographic overlay, the
spirit of the wolf shifted inside and around him. It snarled at her and her
spine stiffened, the skin on her arms tingling. There was no call for the were
to be rude, she thought.
He stopped in front of her and leaned against the counter.
His gaze took a leisurely stroll from her low-heeled boots to her mahogany hair
and corkscrew curls. Petite and curvy, she was a twenty-something morsel in a
lipstick-pink trench coat.
“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” His
voice was a husky growl.
“I think you’re supposed to say, ‘nice girl like you’.”
“No.” He grinned. “I meant what I said.”
Dammit. He did
know what she was. And worse, she was responding. Her pulse rose, warmth
flooding her cheeks.
She hated this because a part of her wanted to smile, to
flirt. Sam was lonely and not proud of the fact. But once the were and his clan
discovered she was broken things would go bad. Fast. The weres were all about
survival of the fittest, and the broken were a danger to the pack. She’d be
driven out at best and at worst… She pushed that memory aside, the beating from
a pack of female weres who had left her for dead. The surgeries that had
followed. The drugs. The confusion. She’d wanted to die then, had expected
death.
God, how she wanted to be normal.
“Sam?” The barista slid a white paper cup across the
counter.
Samantha snatched the coffee, heedless of the heat burning
the ridge of the cup into her palm. She turned to leave.
The were moved to block her and pressed a broad hand to his
chest. “Sam? That’s my favorite name. Now I know it’s love.”
She rolled her eyes and stepped around him.
He bent his head as she passed. “Don’t leave, wolf shaman.”
“Excuse me.” She wove through the coffee shop and he
followed her into the drizzly San Francisco night.
“Have dinner with me.”
“No.”
He grinned. “Breakfast then.”
She shot him a black-layered look. “No.”
“Why not? I’m charming, good-natured and I don’t bite. Much.”
“I’m sure. But trust me, it will only end in tears.” Her
own.
He stopped beneath a streetlamp, the cone of light
illuminating swirling droplets of fog. It sparkled in his hair like shards of
glass. “What’s life without a little risk? Take a chance.”
She shook her head and hurried down the slick street, the
noise from the coffee shop fading behind her. He was wrong.
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1 comment:
Thanks for hosting me, Ashley!
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