An Interview with Beautiful and Brainy Michele Hart!

Please welcome the very talented and hilarious Michele Hart to my blog today! I was lucky enough to be a part of the Song of the Muses series at The Wild Rose Press where I met Michele and my seven other sisters as we now affectionately call one another. Michele keeps me laughing, keeps me sane and has taught me that true friends really do exist out there. Thanks for stopping by today, sis!

Alisha: Can you tell us a little bit about your childhood?

Michele: I was a latch-key kid sitting in front of the TV and my World Book Encyclopedia. That was my entire childhood. Gilligan and Captain Kirk raised me. After about age ten, I bounced from one house to another, just moving with the family until high school, where we settled into the Tampa suburbs. My head was always in the TV until a high school job came around. I wanted to be a ballerina, an astronaut, and a dog trainer. Not all at once, of course. They’d never let me take my dog on the shuttle, and there’s not much room to dance.

Alisha: Tell us about the hero and heroine in your latest release.

Michele: In No Funny Stuff!, Drew is followed by a demon who regularly wrecks his life. One afternoon his everyday misery is disrupted by Daisy, a pretty country girl who happens to know Thalia, the Muse of Comedy, and Daisy and Thalia change his life, doomed to a short life by a vengeful god’s curse.

Alisha: If you were granted three wishes by a genie, what would they be?

Michele: Gosh, probably nothing the rest of the world already wants and needs.
First, there’s the classic Miss America answer, World Peace. Everyone wants that. Secondly, I’d like outrageous writing talent. Who doesn’t want that?
Finally, I’d like to be in love with exercise, so I’ll be nice and healthy. As a writer, I’m way too sedentary.

Alisha: Those are wonderful wishes! If you could go anywhere tomorrow, where would you go?

Michele: New Zealand. Always wanted to go probably because it’s the opposite of Florida, where I’m at now. Mountainous, cold, foreign. The men are big and handsome too. And Colorado for the same reasons.

Alisha: Mmmm...big and handsome. Okay, I'm going with you, sis. If you could see anyone tomorrow (dead or alive), who would it be?

Michele: My very best friend, Ron Parshley, who passed away in 2001. He was my knight in rusty armor and my mentor. I miss him terribly.
And my angel-dog Pooky, who is in Heaven because God felt lonely, and Pooky was the cutest thing She ever made so She called the Pookster home. I can’t blame Her. For the eight years I had her, Heaven was missing an angel.

Alisha: OMG! Now I'm crying! Wahh! I wish I could get Pooky back for you! If you could choose six people to spend one week on a desert island, who would it be and why?

Michele: Define ‘people’. Do they all have to be human? Smurfs aren’t human, yet we call them little blue ‘people’. Food for thought.
a-My best buddy, Alisha
b-my high school crush hypnotized to fall madly in love with me
c-President-Elect Obama, a leader I admire
d-Stephen Colbert, a comedian I love
e-Michio Kaku (Eva Gordon gets points for that one)
f-That guy on the TV show Survivorman, to keep us alive

and as a nonhuman nomination, a man made of Toblerone dark chocolate..
(I’m not saying I’d eat him.)

That makes the roll call for a good friend, a cute guy, a world leader, a snappy comedian, a brilliant scientist, and a yummy guy.. (I’m not saying I’d eat the Toblerone guy. I expect Colbert to suggest it, though. And, well, the man kills me.. I expect a good argument from him.)

Alisha: That's quite a guest list! And I'm invited! Woo hooo! Wow, wouldn't that be a wonderful island experience? And I'm going to eat the chocolate man, dirty parts and all. For those of you that saw my blog yesterday...we were talking about toe sucking...lol...I bet we'd ALL suck his toes..*snicker*! What word or phrase tingles in all the right places for you?

Michele: The pizza’s here! (I don’t hear that enough.)
There’s no calories in that ice cream. (Want to hear that one more, too.)
George Clooney’s on his way. (Never heard that one, but it sure doesn’t hurt the ears.)

Alisha: Sis, you are the funniest lady I know! You crack me up! Those are awesome answers! Let's have a slumber party, order pizza, pig out on ice cream, the non fat kind..there's some good ones now and invite George. I'm sure he could swing it. I hear he's into panty raids. If you had one day to spoil yourself, what would you do?

Michele: Dang, I’m pretty spoiled now. I’d spend the day at a really pretty beach. I can’t seem to stop writing beach scenes so I must belong there, despite my lily-white flesh. It’s such a nice setting for both romance and personal peace. Throw in a large parasol.

Alisha: Oooh I love the beach and you and I were just talking about going to the beach today. We can both blind the tourists with our white skin. I look like I'm made of flour! I sure could use the sun! What’s the sexiest thing a man has ever done for you or said to you or both?

Michele: A very handsome and creative young man once laid out a treasure hunt and a path of rose petals to our bed. That was pretty romantic. Applause for creative men!

Alisha: How very sweet, sexy and thoughtful!

CONTEST: LEAVE A COMMENT FOR MICHELE TODAY AND YOU'LL BE ENTERED INTO A DRAWING FOR A DOWNLOAD OF NO FUNNY STUFF!

Here’s an excerpt from No Funny Stuff!:

Concealing the gift under a washcloth in her hand, Daisy turned back to the room, intending to stash the present in her suitcase and preventing any questions of it tonight. When she crossed over the bathroom threshold, her foot caught on something. Daisy tumbled downward with a shriek; the gift flew from her hand.
The washcloth flung away, and she watched in slow motion the flashy, sparkly red bow flip end-over-end through the air until the rest of the room rushed upward and the carpet broke her fall.
Drew dashed to her and helped her sit up. She could see him better if those damned stars weren’t in the way.
“What happened?” she muttered, then she looked to see Olé stretched over the doorway, the Chihuahua’s little face looking guilty, yet a sliver of intent lay hiding in his eye. She realized just how invisible the dog had been all night.
Then the picture of the gift in flight set Daisy to a panic.
“Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no,” she chanted, imagining the gift from the gods fragile and now broken by her hand. She went to her knees and crawled along the floor, seeking the missing gift beneath the dresser, the desk. Olé joined her, sniffing but not knowing any better than she did for what the heck they searched.
She crawled over to one bed and threw up the covers to check beneath it. All she saw was Drew’s face appearing on the other side of the bed. “What are you looking for?”
She threw the covers back into position. “I don’t know,” she admitted, and crawled around to the other bed, checking every corner where the gift could hide. She noticed Drew’s interest, possibly focused on her upturned derriere.
She flipped the other bed spread flaps up and checked beneath to spot the box in shadow. Relieved, she reached under the bed frame and grabbed the box, bringing it with her as she rose, but the relief was short-lived. In her palm, the tiny, elaborately decorated red box lay open and empty. Drew stared expectantly at the inch-sized cube. She found nothing on the floor.
Before Daisy could consider what punishment the gods might demand of a crummy messenger, her nose detected a scent she knew well from the wild roses woven into the farm’s front gate. Roses meant home to Daisy.
Drew’s brow crashed. “Do you smell flowers?”
He leaned toward her and sniffed so close she felt the tug of breeze into his nose. “It’s you. You smell like flowers. Must be your shower soap.”
But she used the soap she made on the farm, oatmeal and otherwise unscented.
Daisy became super-aware of Drew’s close proximity. He just stood there beside her, wearing nothing but a hotel bed-sheet toga, the corners tied at one shoulder and draping the long line of his physique. Her eyes rode the open side of the toga, down his rib cage past his hips, where hard thighs and scattered hair took over. She was struck with the strongest urge to touch him, to slip her hands to his chest and run her fingers through the hair there. To caress his city-pale flesh, knead his weight-sculpted biceps, stroke the sides of his lean torso. The feeling was so strong, she broke into a sweat. Her palms itched.
Drew stepped back and began to hyperventilate. He paled, dropped onto the bed, his hand to his chest as if his breath had escaped him. He looked truly panicked.
“What is it, Drew?” Daisy asked, fearing the moment. She tossed the empty red box aside and took his hand to feel it clammy.
Was this The End?
****

Hugs to my Muse sisters out there,
Michele
~ ~ ~ Song of the Muses rocks! ~ ~ ~

Thanks for being my guest of honor today, Michele! Please come back soon!
~Alisha