An Interview with Devyn Quinn and A Contest for A Print Book!

Please welcome Devyn Quinn to my blog today!

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

DQ: My childhood was pretty boring, almost mind numbingly so. I was raised in a small farming community, where nothing happened. Ever. My mother’s biggest dream was that her daughters would grow up and marry farmers. Really makes you want to grow up and get the hell out, LOL.

Alisha: Hey, your initials remind me of soft serve ice cream and dilly bars..snicker. Did your mom want you to marry a dairy farmer? Tell us about the hero and heroine in your latest release.

DQ: That would be Callie Whitten and Iollan Drake, from Embracing Midnight. Callie is a woman of many facets, an FBI agent, working under cover, on the trail of a man she believes to be a sex trafficker. Iollan Drake is a wanted man, but for reasons Callie has yet to discover—like he’s part of an alien subculture sought by the government for extermination.

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

DQ: To be immortal. To be drop dead gorgeous. To be a brilliant author.

Alisha: Two out of three isn't bad. Now if you come across a sexy vamp, you'll have it made. If you could go anywhere to tomorrow, where would you go?

DQ: I would hop a flight for Ireland!

Alisha: Can I come? If you could see anyone tomorrow (dead or alive), who would it be?

DQ: Marilyn Monroe! I have always wanted to talk to her, but she was dead before I was born. She is a woman who fascinates me.

Alisha: Let's hope she talks above a whisper so you can hear her. Talk about a sexy, sultry voice! If you could choose six people to spend one week on a desert island, who would it be and why?

DQ: I would want the cast of Lost. I think they would be cool to hang with.

Alisha: Wouldn't they? What word or phrase tingles in all the right places for you?

DQ: Just do it. The perfect way to get your ass in gear and get moving.

Alisha: That's a great motto. If you had one day to spoil yourself, what would you do?

DQ: I would go shopping for all the techie toys I never get to buy.

Alisha: If you could change one incident in your life, what would it be and how would you change it?

DQ: I think I would change stepping on that rattlesnake nest when I was seven years old. Stepping in a nest of poisonous snakes is not the best way to spend your best friend’s birthday. It was a real bummer and the surgery totally destroyed the nerves in my leg! My career as an Olympic runner ended that day, LOL.

Alisha: Yikes! What’s the sexiest thing a man has ever done for you or said to you or both?

DQ: I have been divorced and single for so long that I honestly can not recall that! It’s sad, but true! I am solidly single and prefer it that way.

Alisha: Hey, marriage is not all it's cracked up to be. I'm like Goldie Hawn...living in sin with my lover...gasp! And then we had kids...double gasp! I'd go back to my true single days in a flash! I miss the days of having popcorn or slim fast for dinner...lol!


CONTEST: LEAVE A COMMENT FOR DEVYN TODAY AND YOU'LL BE ENTERED INTO A DRAWING! Devyn will give away an autographed print copy of Sins of the Flesh or Sins of the Night. Winner’s choice.

Excerpt

Chapter One







Literally and figuratively, Iollan Drake had given feds the finger. And that was pissing Callie Whitten off. Time and time again the outlaw she was supposed to be tracking had turned the tables, dodging the night’s stakeout. Despite her team’s best efforts, Drake always seemed to be one step ahead.



“Maybe tomorrow.”



Muttering under her breath, Callie reached out and punched the call button for the elevator. Bone tired, she checked the clock in the lobby. Three-thirty in the morning. Too late to be out, and too early to get up. A little groan escaped her lips. Goddamn. Another day gone and agents still weren’t any closer to cornering their quarry. Drake’s talent for appearing and disappearing seemingly at will was puzzling—and enviable.



Gaze dropping, Callie caught a brief glimpse of her face in the shiny doors. A thatch of messy blond hair ruled over bloodshot kohl-lined eyes, painted cheeks and a mouth slashed with crimson. A figure shaping bustier, leather mini-skirt, laced leather wrist cuffs, and Victorian style boots completed her outfit.



The image didn’t matched the woman inside, part of the reason the Bureau had picked her for this assignment. Her ability to change from grunge to glam in the blink of an eye meant she was able to work most any type of undercover operation. Her lack of husband and children was another. Callie was one of the few female agents ready to pack and leave on ten minute’s notice.



Where the hell was the elevator? The only thing she wanted right now was a hot shower and cool sheets, and that was taking far too long in arriving.



Losing patience, Callie burrowed inside her purse for a cigarette. With her nerves on the edge of frayed, quitting was a moot point. A shot of nicotine would help her relax. Extracting one from a crumpled pack, she put it between her lips. A way to light it eluded her. She dug deeper, sure she had a pack matches.



A man stepped up, his shoulder lightly brushing hers. Engrossed in her search, she hadn’t even noticed his arrival. “Allow me, please.”



His voice snapped her flagging senses to attention. Touched with an Irish brogue, his voice was familiar. Dangerously familiar.



Callie gasped. The man beside her was so drop dead gorgeous her heart skipped a beat. His presence, so riskily close, heated her skin as heavy awareness pulsed through her veins.



Iollan Drake. In the flesh. Right here. Right now.



All lean muscle and sinew, the outlaw was stunning. Thick hair brushed his brow. An unusual shade best described as pearlescent smoke, it settled in tousled layers around his chiseled face. Deep set eyes, wide strong nose and an absolutely sensual mouth ruled over a jaw brushed with stubble. Narrow hips and long legs were hugged by a tight pair of boot-cut Levis. A calf length denim duster and polished black boots finished his sleek, but casual style.



Drake looked devastating, much more appealing in person than the blurry photos she’d studied before joining the investigation. Solid, lean and muscular, he was handsome in an unusual edgy sort of way. His features weren’t perfect, but were arranged in such a way as to make him striking enough to countenance a second—and a third—look. The top button of his creamy silk shirt was undone, and below his beltline was a suggestive bulge she couldn’t possibly miss even if she’d wanted to.



Swallowing the lump in her throat, Callie tugged the cigarette from her mouth. Numb fingers curled around the fragile paper cylinder, crushing it. “No thanks. I changed my mind.” She dumped the remnants into the nearby receptacle, dusting off bits of lingering tobacco. “I’m trying to quit. That oral thing, you know—”



Pocketing his lighter, the outlaw smiled. The lithe way he moved compelled attention. “I understand. It’s a difficult habit to break.” Eyes a woman could drown in raked her body. Easily his most striking feature, the irises were a brilliant shade of copper, the pupil not quite round, but slightly oval. Odd, but strangely attractive. “I’m glad I caught you, though. I was afraid you’d gotten away from me.”



Gotten away?



Blindsided, Callie made a grab for her wits. She gave her head a shake to clear it. “I didn’t know you were looking for me.” Holy shit. Had the criminal pegged her as a federal agent? Self-preservation conflicted with the need to remain cool. Whatever move he might make, she needed to be ready to counter without hesitation. Her mind sidetracked to the fact that she was unarmed and had no backup whatsoever. Being caught alone with a sex trafficker and suspected killer wasn’t exactly an appealing thought.



He visually explored her, eyes lingering on her breasts pushed high and plump by her form shaping bustier, then back up to her face. “I’m always looking, Calista.”



She resisted the urge to fidget. He didn’t act the least bit hostile, dangerous, or savage. Loose and relaxed, his face reflected nothing more than friendly interest. “How do you know my name?”



His eyes skimmed over her again. “The tag you’re wearing,” he said in the accent sprinkled with a dusting of leprechauns and blarney. “That’s your name, I assume.”



His brash attitude shot through Callie like a bolt of electricity and her cheeks heated. Her ability for thinking fast on her feet seemed to have vanished. Calista wasn’t her real name, but close enough that she remembered to answer to it. Her cover as a waitress at Hell Bound Train, the Goth club Drake frequented, gave her access to all areas.



“Um, yes, it is. I usually don’t have men following me home from work just to ask about it though.”



“When I notice a beautiful woman, I want to know more about her.” His comeback was smooth, a heart stopping flash of charm.



Callie tried to detour around the remark. “I didn’t even think you’d glanced twice at me.”



He smiled. “Oh, I glanced. More than once, I assure you.” He stepped closer, holding out his hand. “And in case you want to know who your stalker is this evening, my name is Iollan Drake.”



As if she didn’t already know.



To be polite, Callie accepted his offering. Long graceful fingers curled around hers. His grip was sure, strong and firm. Much to her surprise he hadn’t pronounced his name the way it was spelled, ill-an, but had used a soft ‘y’ instead, you-lan. She liked the sound of it better then. Suddenly, coming from the lips of its owner, it was personal—belonging to more than the ink on a dry dossier.



“Unusual name.” Feeling his skin against hers, a thrill wove its way through her veins and her body temperature inched higher. If she let him, he’d easily seduce her with his easy manner and obvious charm. That was his goal, no doubt. She hoped he didn’t feel the tremble in her own hand.



“Around here, yes. But I’ve had it all my life, so I’m used to it.”



She grasped for an intelligent rejoinder and came up dry. “I guess you already know my name.”



“I do.” His grip tightened subtly. “And the pleasure is entirely mine.”



Flustered, Callie drew back her hand. She’d bet dollars to donuts this man didn’t have a problem charming women. His leading-man good looks and easy manner made him seem too good to be true. Were she not aiming to put him behind bars, she’d have been more than happy to be the object of his attention.



“Thanks.”



He let her hand go with seeming reluctance. “You’re most welcome.” The flash of white teeth revealed an alluring dimple.



Callie inwardly groaned, then coughed into her hand to cover her rude lapse. She loved dimples, would love to plant a soft kiss right at the corner of his fine mouth.



Swallowing over the lump in her throat, she took a step back. Widening the distance. She didn’t know what his motives were, but she suspected he was looking for something more than a late night diversion.



“Well,” she said. “I guess I should get going.”



His eyes clouded, then just as quickly cleared. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance I might get you to join me for a cup of coffee. It’s late, I know, and I probably haven’t got any right to ask.”



She forced a casual shrug. “No harm in asking.”



“Any chance I’ll get an answer?”



Callie stared into his expressive face. Her training as an agent had taught her to delve past words and study body language. His unexpected appearance notwithstanding, nothing in Drake’s manner hinted of intimidation. Trying to pick up a woman he’d seen in a bar was typical male behavior, partly opportunistic and partly sincere.



Except picking up women wasn’t his hobby. Flesh peddling was his profession. Then it dawned on her. He didn’t see her as a threat—but as a potential victim. Callie wasn’t one to flinch from the demands her job placed on her, but the idea of being alone with this man made her stomach clench. Not from fear. Desire.



The minefield she’d unexpectedly walked into was getting tricky. One false step and the situation could blow up in her face. She considered brushing him off, then quickly realized that wasn’t an option. She had to continue to play her role.



Backed into a corner, she made a play for a little more time to think. “I, ah, I’m not sure.”



Amused, his eyes crinkled at the edges, a hint of mischief woven with longing. “Perhaps you could use some help making up your mind.”



Giving no warning, Drake bridged the brief distance separating them. The air sizzled as his strong hands slid over her hips.



A strong sensual tug filled her. “What—” Callie started to protest, but he gave her no chance to continue. His mouth descended, forcible and warm, branding her in a way promising pleasure if only she’d submit. She was surprised at the sense of strength emanating from him. Arousal, unexpected, potent, and definitely forbidden, reared its head, delivering a thrilling hum that stretched all the way to her toes. Physical tension ratcheted up. He was good. Better than good. Superb.



A shudder ran through her. Instead of pulling back, Callie opened her mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He stroked her tongue with his in a manner making it clear he’d also like to claim her.



A soft moan escaped her. Ropes of desire tangled around her whole body as the heat from his palms seeped through her tight leather skirt. Her skin crackled with the electricity of his touch. Heart pounding, her nipples hardened. She’d played scenes with Drake in her mind a thousand times, and not once had she ever imagined herself as a target of his seduction.



Without warning, the elevator clamored open, expelling a few early morning joggers. Disconcerted, Callie took a hasty step back, breaking their passionate embrace. The pair bustled by, heads turned and eyebrows notched in disapproval.



She ducked her head, swiping at her tingling lips in embarrassment. She’d lost her head, briefly succumbing to the excitement his kiss stirred inside her. No telling what would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted. “I guess they didn’t approve.”



“Seems like.” Amusement danced in his eyes. “What about you? Not convincing enough?”



Think criminal, she reminded herself as a guard against his colossal appeal. “One kiss isn’t anything special.”



She started to reach for the elevator’s call button, but his light touch on her arm stopped her hand in mid-air. “I’d like it to be.”