I’d like to welcome our guest today,
Erin Quinn. It’s a pleasure having you come visit us at Much Cheaper Than Therapy, where chocolate is plentiful and advice is free. So grab some chocolate and a lounge chair. Your therapy session has begun.
Thanks for having me here! I love your site and always get excited to be one of your guests.
I understand you have a new release out called Haunting Desire, Book 3 in the Mists of Ireland Series. Can you tell us a little bit about your fabulous new book? Haunting Desire is Shealy O’Leary and Tiarnan’s story. From the cover:
A woman lost in a nightmare
Shealy O’Leary thought the ancient Book of Fennore a myth until she and her father are sucked into the past—and into the cursed no-man’s land called Fennore. There Shealy learns that she has a rare power that their enemy seeks. Aided by the dangerous and compelling warrior, Tiarnan, Shealy must find her father and learn how to wield her gift to save those she loves or die in this waking nightmare...
A man desperate to regain his honor
After failing both his land and people, Tiarnan was damned to spend eternity in the black heart of Fennore. His only hope comes in the shape of a beautiful, frightened woman from the future. For she possesses a gift she is unaware of. A gift with the power to save ...or destroy them all.
A desire that drives their destiny
Together, Shealy and Tiarnan begin their perilous quest—a mission that draws them closer and closer together. And as the odds against them mount, so does their passion. The intensity of their bond electrifies the couple, their love powering Shealy’s gift and Tiarnan’s strength. But their newfound connection threatens to ruin them both—and bring to life a long ago prophecy of devastation and betrayal...
Haunting Desire is a very interesting title. How did you arrive at that name?
Actually, I ran a contest on my blog for title suggestions and one of my readers chimed in with Haunting Desire. My editor loved it and thought it was perfect for the book. Giving my work a title has never been my gift, so I’m always grateful for the help.
What made you decide to write in this genre?
I love paranormal—always have, always will. When I was a young adult there weren’t the many choices of paranormal that there are now, so I had to look to Horror to fill that need. Now the choices are endless. I love the idea that normal, everyday people might have extraordinary powers and I’m fascinated by the idea that maybe time isn’t linear, maybe it’s fluid and changes to the past are simply things that were meant to be…..
Where did you get your idea for this particular book?
It came to me naturally from the story arc of the series. While each book in the Mists of Ireland series are stand alone titles, they are part of an over-arching story that is reflected in each one.
What are your favorite paranormal research books or sites, and why?
I love the quirky “Encyclopedia’s of” books. Currently reading Encyclopedia of Demons and Demonology, the Encyclopedia of Angels and the Encyclopedia of Spirits and Creatures. They give a quick, brief overview to help me find out what I want to research without slogging through tome’s of information.
Which character did you like writing about the most, and why?
In Haunting Desire, it was Tiarnan. I’ve really tortured this character and he really deserved redemption. It was so satisfying watching him get it.
Tell us about how you develop your characters. Do you create character sheets, do interviews, that sort of thing? How does your research and/or world affect your character development?
For me the character emerges as I write him/her. They are products of their actions and words. I have a general sense of person when I start and I usually have an idea of where they come from, but sometimes it’s the words they speak that bring them to life for me.
How do you go about building your world if you use one? Do you use maps, charts or drawings?
I use a little of all. A lot of my world is in my head, though. I see it like I’m watching a movie and I’m able to rewind and zoom when necessary.
Do you have any authors that inspired you?
Oh too many to list. I’m in awe of many writers.
What do you feel is the most effective promotion you have done for your book?
Ha. Writing them. Seriously, I’m not convinced that any promotion is effective. Unless it comes from top down (meaning the publisher is pushing the book) it’s all just a shot in the dark. Who knows if it’s hitting anyone?
What do we have to look forward next?
Haunting Embrace comes out October 4 and then….well, I’m still working on what I’ll do next.
Thanks, Erin!
To celebrate her book release, Erin is offering a free book of reader’s choice of Haunting Beauty or Haunting Warrior to one lucky commenter on today's blog. (please check the blog Monday night to see if you won. Chances of winning determined by the number of entries.)
She will be around all day today. I'm sure some of you have questions or comments for her, so please ask away...
Bio.
Erin Quinn (also known as Erin Grady) is an award winning author. Her books have been called “riveting,” “brilliantly plotted” and “beautifully written” and have won, placed or showed in the WILLA Award for Historical fiction, the Orange Rose, Golden Quill, Best Books, Book Buyers Best, and Award of Excellence. Book three in her Mists of Ireland series, HAUNTING DESIRE, will be in bookstores April 2011.
She lives in Arizona with her husband, two daughters and three dogs (all of whom have made debuts in her stories—the dogs, that is, not the husband and kids.) You can learn more at
http://www.erinquinnbooks.com/Excerpt:
A gust of hot wind blew across the parking lot, chasing the echo of her dad's anger. The restaurant had been packed when they’d arrived and they’d had to park in the back, by the trash. Now the lot was dark and deserted. The burned-out streetlight over their car left shadows creeping across the heated tar and whispering sounds rasping against the abruptly taut silence that followed.
Shealy wanted to tell him to calm down. She was twenty-four years old and didn’t need his permission, but an undefined feeling of threat prickled and poked at her. She opened her mouth to demand to know what these mysterious things he’d been protecting her from were, but an instinct as old as time silenced her and urged her toward the car. Pushing her to get out of the open.
“Let’s—”
“Shhhh,” he said. His eyes were wide, his expression frightened as he scanned the empty parking lot.
The air grated against them, lifting the hem of her skirt and blustering beneath it. It was hot—always hot in Arizona—but now that heat had weight and a dark, malevolent substance.
A trill of fear crept down her spine, but she didn’t know what had scared her, why she suddenly had a sense of déjà vu that clenched her tight and terrified her.
“Get to the car,” Donnell said, turning her and pulling her to the Toyota.
“What’s going on?”
A sound—like a hundred nails running down a chalkboard, like a thousand knives scraping china, like millions of screams that went on unending—ripped through the oppressive quiet. The blistering cacophony surrounded them, an invisible wall that herded them into shadow and gloom.
“Dad, what is that?” she asked, gripping his hand, feeling the tremors coursing through his body. That tangible evidence of his alarm escalated her own. Her dad had weakened with illness, but remained one of the bravest men she’d ever known.
He tried to pull her toward the car, but the air felt strangely gelatinous, a membrane holding them captive in the small space they filled. Beyond the unseen barrier, the everyday world faded until there was only dusky night alive with that terrible sound. Shealy clapped her hands over her ears and so did Donnell, both of them turning in place, searching for an exit. Seeking an explanation.
Beneath her feet the asphalt began to rumble and shake. Pieces of the parking lot cracked, spidering like a shattered windshield. Was it an earthquake? A car alarm joined the melee, as if in response to her panicked thoughts. She grasped at a perverse sense of comfort the explanation brought. Earthquakes were real. Shadows that hemmed people in weren’t.
But even as she thought it the darkness to her left split down the middle, like a huge piece of velvet ripped in two. She heard the sound of it tearing, felt her breath seize in her chest as she watched the fissure grow. Felt again that unfathomable sense of déjà vu. Through the rent in the night, she saw a rock wall shooting straight up, perpendicular to the earth. At its base was a huge stone plateau and on it stood a man and teenage boy.
Mouth dry, Shealy saw the man suddenly look up, his golden brown eyes wide with shock. For an instant they stared at one another, Shealy and this man, and she felt the touch of that glance like she did the heat, the fear.
A queer sense of recognition staggered her.
There was no way she’d met this man before and then forgotten him. No possible way. He stood well over six feet, perhaps even six five. Tall and muscular, so perfectly sculpted the Greeks might have used him as the model of Atlas, holding the world on his shoulders. A wound seeped blood into the fabric of his open shirt and splattered the burnished skin of his tight massive chest and muscular abdomen, but he stood tall and strong. And those eyes . . . those incredible eyes . . .
Who was he? Where was he?
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Welcome aboard ladies. I'm glad we're all in therapy together. 
