RaeLynn Blue is the author of numerous tales of erotic interracial romance and speculative romance. With an imagination that's varied and diverse, her tales explores love in all its many shades, situations and scenarios. She fell into romance stories at the ripe age of eleven and has been writing stories ever since. A humble scribbler of tales, RaeLynn is actively writing another story of lust, love, and romance.Email: raelynn@raelynnblue.comWebsite: http://raelynnblue.blogspot.com
When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer? Like most writers, I've been writing stories before I even could write letters, form words, etc. I remember rewriting the ending of nursey rhymes or extending the story line as far back as I can remember. So, I can't remember a time when I wasn't writing.
How long does it take you to write a book? It depends on the book, but usually a short novella takes me roughly six months--on average to write.
What is your work schedule like when you're writing? If I'm lucky and the day job isn't a beast, I write straight through the chapters until the characters have nothing else to add or until my body gives out.Then, I go back and read what I have written, ask the characters if I have it down right, and proceed to the next chapter.
What would you say is your interesting writing quirk? My most interesting quirk? Probably that I like to go back over a chapter, adding in details, fleshing out the scene again and again before moving on to the next chapter. Oh! I also write everything out long hand, but that isn't really interesting.
Where do you get your information or ideas for your books? Life. People. My personal history. The person history of friends. Porn. Comics. Everything. I mean, I have written an entire novel based on water left on the road after an accident scene.
What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your books? That it's hard. LOL!!
How many books have you written? Which is your favorite? To date, I have written 59 titles. My favorite one? Um, it would have to be, uh *looks over shoulder at mob of characters*...I will have to get back to you.
What do you think makes a good story? A good story is one in which the read can relate. A relatable and entertaining story is not an easy thing to create.What quirks (flaws) if any do your hero and heroines have? My heroes and heroines are human and as such they succumb to all the things we do--lust, jealousy, insecurity, and other human emotions.
Which of your books is your favorite?My favorite book is THE ONYX SCION. It's about lost destiny, love, mystery, and intrigue as well as sex in an urban fantasy sort of like Kim Harrison's stories.
Which of your characters is your favorite? My favorite character recently is Aerial from ICING ON THE CAKE. She's a funny, smart, self confident woman and her fierce love for Brice is encouraging.
What would your ideal career be, if you couldn't be an author? My ideal career if I couldn't write? English teacher.
Have you ever been surprised by a controversy among fans or reviewers - for example, you created a character without thinking too much about what people would think of him, and found some readers loved him and some hated him? I have found that in my story, WASABI HEAT, a few readers didn't feel I was being true to my heroine, but I was. There was a lot of volley between readers about whether or not a "real" African American would behave like my heroine did. It took me completely by surprise.
Where can readers find you (What websites, emails etc)? http://raelynnblue.blogspot.com, raelynnblue@gmail.com, #raelynnblue (Twitter) andfacebook.com/raelynnblueWhat TV shows do you watch? I love NCIS, The Walking Dead and The First 48. I know, I know, none of those are romantic...Tell us five things about you, that we wouldn't know. Whew. Okay. Here I go....
1. I'm only five feet tall.
2. I do not eat chocolate.
3. I'm asthmatic
4. I love cats.
5. I can change a tire.
Where can we find your book(s)? You can find a complete list of books here at http://www.amazon.com/RaeLynn-Blue/e/B007FIXC6Y
Thanks so much for taking the time to answer these questions. No, thank you! It's been so fun.
MMP Title: Beauty & the Geek: Rocket to Love
Blurb: While recreational shopping, Jewel Isles and her friends discover all kinds of deals and steals at the Atlanta Shoe and Purse Expo. When Jewel heads to the ladies room, she nearly trips over a geeky, but surprisingly handsome man.
Ben Wook Sun, NASA scientist and Star Trek® lover, didn’t understand why beautiful women like Jewel Isles insisted on dating men who lacked intellectual depth. Adjusting his black-rimmed glasses, Ben made the conscious decision to convince Jewel that he was the best for her—period. It didn’t take a muscle-bound brute to scoop her up and whisk her away. He was more than capable.
But first, he had to get her to go out on a date with him. Astrophysics, this wasn’t.
Ben Wook Sun, NASA scientist and Star Trek® lover, didn’t understand why beautiful women like Jewel Isles insisted on dating men who lacked intellectual depth. Adjusting his black-rimmed glasses, Ben made the conscious decision to convince Jewel that he was the best for her—period. It didn’t take a muscle-bound brute to scoop her up and whisk her away. He was more than capable.
But first, he had to get her to go out on a date with him. Astrophysics, this wasn’t.
Excerpt:
“Good one, Anderson!” Ben shouted back and rolled his eyes. He tapped the rim of his shot glass. “One more, please.”
The bartender nodded. He refilled Ben’s tequila and sloshed it a bit.
“Hey!” shouted Race, his fellow scientist.
The bartender, a big beefy man with a lot of facial hair growled at Race. “Shut that hole, nerd.”
“Yeah, well, your momma!” Race shouted back.
“Race!” Ben snatched the wiry scientist by the collar and out of the bartender’s face. He said to the hunk of ancient human DNA serving drinks. “Ignore him. He’s had a lot to drink.”
“I could’ve handled it,” slurred Race, hiccupping to punctuate the sentence. Unfocused eyes roamed all over the place.
“I think you need to be cut off. You’ve had way too much,” Ben said.
“Whoa!” Race ignored Ben’s advice and fell to the floor, banging into a few of the other scientists. They yelled at him, but quickly went back to chatting about whatever suited their fancies. Race clamored, clumsily rising to a standing position.
With eyes wide, Race said to Ben. “Did you see them?”
Ben followed Race’s blatant stare to a trio of women who strolled into the restaurant. The scent of floral and expensive perfumes still lingered on the otherwise stale air. Sun-kissed skin, strappy sandals, and long cinnamon-toned legs dressed in brightly colored sundresses. Goodness, he loved summer. Oversized sunglasses pushed into shiny, full hair completed what Ben could only describe as beauty dipped in sunlight.
No wonder Race fell over.
“I do now,” Ben said and reached over to close Race’s gaping mouth. “Good call.”
“Damn. That’s one hot rocket, huh? I’d like to launch her blasters,” Race commented.
“Which one?”
“The one in blue,” Race said.
“Yeah.”
“Wookie, those women are gorgeous, like that Beyoncé. African-American women are so gorgeous. Stunning. The one in the pretty blue, she could launch my rocket.”
“Kill the rocket jokes,” Ben said, hearing Race’s slur on the s.
Ben saw her. The average pronoun couldn’t even begin to convey the extraordinary woman in red. He wiped his hands across his khakis. Red had been a good choice because she was a firecracker. Cinnamon brushed legs went on forever. Ben’s heart actually skipped a beat. Then another. Could be the tequila.
The woman’s ka-pow landed a huge wallop on him.
“Wow,” Race said again.
“Those kinds of women are all about money,” Ben countered.
Race shrugged. “We got money, well, except for Thomas, but his ex-wife took half.”
Ben tossed back the dark amber liquid. The shock of the burn acted like lightning. More awake, he tried to blink back the weary vision. No doubt. He’d had way too much to drink. Probably shouldn’t have started with beer. No. He should’ve stuck to beer.
“Yeah, we have money, but women like them don’t date guys like us.”
“We’re not some other species, though that didn’t hurt Captain Kirk’s chances at all,” Race countered.
Ben nodded.
He could do complex equations in his head, but he’d never understand why woman wanted dumb mates. All brawn, but no brains. Ben shook his head.
“Brad Pitt we aren’t, Race.”
Race’s expression fell. “Yeah.”
Their moods sobered, Ben pushed back from the bar, rotating the stool around and putting his back to the bartender.
“Look, I’m going to hit the sack. I’ve got that panel at 8 a.m. on Astrodynamics.”
Race’s unfocused eyes met his, but then slid back to the women sitting in a booth. Only the tops of their heads could be seen from his position now, but one of the women, dressed in a scarlet red dress, held his attention. Even if the only thing he could see was the top of her curly ponytail.
“Yeah, sure? I’m on the same one, so call me to wake me up,” Race said, or that’s what Ben thought he said. “Will you, Wookie?”
“I’m not your mother. Get a wakeup call.”
With that, Ben clapped Race on the shoulder, threw a fifty on the bar, nodded to the bartender to keep the change, and headed out of the restaurant and out of the thundering noise of the television, the shrieks of drunken laughter, and the roars of multiple conversations. The world spun sluggishly. Steadying himself by using the wooden stools and his co-workers’ shoulders, Ben made his way toward the exit. Race had been pulled into the circle of remaining associates at the bar. Ben heard him lamenting the loss of an old computer, a Commodore 64, his mom threw out two decades ago. Frowning at the lot of them, Ben realized no one would be at his panel. They’d all be hung over.
He smirked.
That was if he made it.
Most of his coworkers could talk about any aspects of rocket science in their sleep. World experts, most of his friends had a life of lecture, academia, and books. Few married. When they did, Thomas happened. A woman would divorce him because she couldn’t compete with being married to one of the world’s smartest men. At 36, Ben had a lot of life left. Sure, not all the scientists were male. Quite a few of the most brilliant minds on the planet were women. So, he had his flings, but those faded fast, dissolved by the acidic strength of competition. He didn’t date other scientists any more.
“Hey, Wookie!” Race shouted.
Ben turned and the step that should’ve been there suddenly wasn’t, and he fell. His glasses clattered against the tile and out of reach. Everything blurred without his glasses and all he could make out of the fuzzy blobs were shades of scarlet and nutmeg.
Then, a heavenly voice, tinted with a sexy husk, asked, “Did that guy just call you a wookiee?”
The bartender nodded. He refilled Ben’s tequila and sloshed it a bit.
“Hey!” shouted Race, his fellow scientist.
The bartender, a big beefy man with a lot of facial hair growled at Race. “Shut that hole, nerd.”
“Yeah, well, your momma!” Race shouted back.
“Race!” Ben snatched the wiry scientist by the collar and out of the bartender’s face. He said to the hunk of ancient human DNA serving drinks. “Ignore him. He’s had a lot to drink.”
“I could’ve handled it,” slurred Race, hiccupping to punctuate the sentence. Unfocused eyes roamed all over the place.
“I think you need to be cut off. You’ve had way too much,” Ben said.
“Whoa!” Race ignored Ben’s advice and fell to the floor, banging into a few of the other scientists. They yelled at him, but quickly went back to chatting about whatever suited their fancies. Race clamored, clumsily rising to a standing position.
With eyes wide, Race said to Ben. “Did you see them?”
Ben followed Race’s blatant stare to a trio of women who strolled into the restaurant. The scent of floral and expensive perfumes still lingered on the otherwise stale air. Sun-kissed skin, strappy sandals, and long cinnamon-toned legs dressed in brightly colored sundresses. Goodness, he loved summer. Oversized sunglasses pushed into shiny, full hair completed what Ben could only describe as beauty dipped in sunlight.
No wonder Race fell over.
“I do now,” Ben said and reached over to close Race’s gaping mouth. “Good call.”
“Damn. That’s one hot rocket, huh? I’d like to launch her blasters,” Race commented.
“Which one?”
“The one in blue,” Race said.
“Yeah.”
“Wookie, those women are gorgeous, like that Beyoncé. African-American women are so gorgeous. Stunning. The one in the pretty blue, she could launch my rocket.”
“Kill the rocket jokes,” Ben said, hearing Race’s slur on the s.
Ben saw her. The average pronoun couldn’t even begin to convey the extraordinary woman in red. He wiped his hands across his khakis. Red had been a good choice because she was a firecracker. Cinnamon brushed legs went on forever. Ben’s heart actually skipped a beat. Then another. Could be the tequila.
The woman’s ka-pow landed a huge wallop on him.
“Wow,” Race said again.
“Those kinds of women are all about money,” Ben countered.
Race shrugged. “We got money, well, except for Thomas, but his ex-wife took half.”
Ben tossed back the dark amber liquid. The shock of the burn acted like lightning. More awake, he tried to blink back the weary vision. No doubt. He’d had way too much to drink. Probably shouldn’t have started with beer. No. He should’ve stuck to beer.
“Yeah, we have money, but women like them don’t date guys like us.”
“We’re not some other species, though that didn’t hurt Captain Kirk’s chances at all,” Race countered.
Ben nodded.
He could do complex equations in his head, but he’d never understand why woman wanted dumb mates. All brawn, but no brains. Ben shook his head.
“Brad Pitt we aren’t, Race.”
Race’s expression fell. “Yeah.”
Their moods sobered, Ben pushed back from the bar, rotating the stool around and putting his back to the bartender.
“Look, I’m going to hit the sack. I’ve got that panel at 8 a.m. on Astrodynamics.”
Race’s unfocused eyes met his, but then slid back to the women sitting in a booth. Only the tops of their heads could be seen from his position now, but one of the women, dressed in a scarlet red dress, held his attention. Even if the only thing he could see was the top of her curly ponytail.
“Yeah, sure? I’m on the same one, so call me to wake me up,” Race said, or that’s what Ben thought he said. “Will you, Wookie?”
“I’m not your mother. Get a wakeup call.”
With that, Ben clapped Race on the shoulder, threw a fifty on the bar, nodded to the bartender to keep the change, and headed out of the restaurant and out of the thundering noise of the television, the shrieks of drunken laughter, and the roars of multiple conversations. The world spun sluggishly. Steadying himself by using the wooden stools and his co-workers’ shoulders, Ben made his way toward the exit. Race had been pulled into the circle of remaining associates at the bar. Ben heard him lamenting the loss of an old computer, a Commodore 64, his mom threw out two decades ago. Frowning at the lot of them, Ben realized no one would be at his panel. They’d all be hung over.
He smirked.
That was if he made it.
Most of his coworkers could talk about any aspects of rocket science in their sleep. World experts, most of his friends had a life of lecture, academia, and books. Few married. When they did, Thomas happened. A woman would divorce him because she couldn’t compete with being married to one of the world’s smartest men. At 36, Ben had a lot of life left. Sure, not all the scientists were male. Quite a few of the most brilliant minds on the planet were women. So, he had his flings, but those faded fast, dissolved by the acidic strength of competition. He didn’t date other scientists any more.
“Hey, Wookie!” Race shouted.
Ben turned and the step that should’ve been there suddenly wasn’t, and he fell. His glasses clattered against the tile and out of reach. Everything blurred without his glasses and all he could make out of the fuzzy blobs were shades of scarlet and nutmeg.
Then, a heavenly voice, tinted with a sexy husk, asked, “Did that guy just call you a wookiee?”
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