Welcome Allyson!
What Should I Write About?
When
Rosanna offered me the chance to appear on her blog (thank you for this
opportunity, btw :-) I said “Yeah, all right, awesome!” And then I realized
that meant coming up with a topic. My brain went “Dur…sugar please.” Which is
stupid, because my brain never gives me good ideas on sugar, but it keeps
trying to convince me it can learn, and I keep listening.
So
here I am, and it made me realize, the entire thing is real similar to the
cliff-notes version of how I pick which book to write next. At any given time I
have dozens of story ideas bouncing in my skull and nagging for attention. And
sometimes one screams really loudly, and sometimes none of them really speak up
much at all. They’re more like “Eh, you could pick me, or not. Whatever. I
don’t need you. I’ll write myself.”
Which
they have never done. But like with the sugar, I keep hoping.
And
frequently I’ll sit down and start a kind of stream of consciousness writing.
If I can get a synopsis type summary spit out, I’ll head into outlining. If I
can make it that far, I’ll give writing a scene or two a try. But that still
doesn’t mean that idea wins for the week.
The
ones that haunt me even after I walk away – both character and story – those
are the ones I stick with. Conflict of Interest for instance. The original idea
was simple. Two people with stress in their live meet in a coffee shop, and
over time and the occasional “accidental” meeting, random venting becomes more.
The
idea wouldn’t leave me alone. Next it wanted to consume (sorry, incorporate)
two characters I created eons ago, for very different purposes, who I love so
much I’ve never been happy with their roles in their stories.
Suddenly
(okay, it actually took a little more work than that), just a little while
later, I had: Scott’s sick of his board
of directors dictating his behavior. Kenzie’s job is to make him like it. Talk
about Conflict of Interest.
And
now, as a result of the loud, nagging story about the couple who meets in the
coffee shop, I’m writing this blog post. And off to find more sugar. Hey, it
might work this time.
What
inspires you?
Website: http://allsyonlindt.com
Blurb
Kenzie
propositions a sexy stranger in a coffee shop to prove to herself she’s capable
of
taking a risk. She doesn’t expect him to be sitting across from her the
following
Monday
as her newest client. Even worse, she can’t stop thinking about what might
have
happened between them on a personal level if it weren’t for their professional
relationship.
He knows how to push her buttons, and she doesn’t want him to stop.
Scott
has built his software company from the ground up to escape things like stuffy
old
men telling him how to behave, so he loathes his board of directors ordering
him to
make
the public forget he doesn’t have a verbal filter. When his new publicity
manager
is the
almost-fling he never expected to see again, he seizes the opportunity to have
fun
and
still pretend he’s complying with the board’s edict.
Giving
in to desire could mean both their jobs, but each “one last time” always leads
to
another.
Now they have to decide what they’re willing to sacrifice to indulge this
conflict
of
interest.
Kenzie twisted in the leather seat to
face him, sinking into the oversized jacket draping her shoulders and wiping
the rain from her face. The faint scent of his cologne swam through her
thoughts. She studied him, soaking wet, shirt accentuating every line of
definition on his chest.
He laughed and raked his fingers through
his brown spikes, pushing the dripping strands off his forehead. “So you’d
rather take your chances in the love van than the rain? At least now I know
your limits. You’re not worried I might be bad news?”
“I know you’re bad news.” The way he
didn’t filter his thoughts, but was still gentle and polite. The hint of
mischief always lurking in his smile and promising something unknown. It was
making her giddy, and nervous, and tingly all over.
She worked her fingers into the elastic
holding her hair back and yanked it free, letting the loose strands fall around
her shoulders. The ponytail had kept it from getting soaked, and it was nice to
have the almost-dry warmth against her skin. She’d rather it was his hand
again, but the moment seemed to be gone.
How had she ended up in this man’s car in
the pouring rain, toeing the line of indecent conversation and fantasizing
about stripping off his wet clothes? “The barista knows me. She saw us leave
together.”
“So they’ll come after you when they find
my body dead and mangled in a gutter?” His teasing smirk never faded.
She batted her eyelashes. “Yes. And the
police will track me down, bringing my long string of kidnapping devastatingly
sexy men to an end.”
“Sexy?” He leaned closer, tucking a
strand of hair behind her ear.
Crap, she hadn’t meant to say that. No,
wait, this was perfect. She wasn’t being frigid anymore. She could do flirting.
Especially when he made it so easy. Her voice was husky when she replied.
“Definitely sexy.”
“And you’re going to devastate me?” His
fingers lingered on her ear, tracing light lines, eyes searching hers. She
inhaled sharply when he trailed down to her earlobe and then brushed the hollow
behind it where her neck met her jaw.
Her heart hammered against her ribcage,
and her mind argued with itself—half insisting this was grossly inappropriate
and the other half saying she was thinking too much. He was a random stranger,
not a client or an associate. Just a guy whose rough palm against her neck was
driving her thoughts wild. “I wouldn’t mind trying.”
Wind howled against the vehicle, rain
slamming into it from all sides and drowning out the rest of the world. She
could get lost in those eyes.
“Don’t you need to get home?” He didn’t
pull away, and his skin was hot against hers.
The same argument she’d had with herself
when Riley called echoed in her thoughts, but this time she was leaning toward
continuing to swap one-liners with the sexy stranger instead of trudging back
to her condo.
She shifted her weight in the seat and
leaned into his hand, her voice almost lost in the storm outside. “Right. I
should do that.”
The corner of his mouth twitched,
fingertips gliding along the back of her neck. “You’re not convincing me.”
She exhaled at the light touch, currents
of anticipation flowing through her. “I haven’t convinced myself.”
Biography
Allyson
Lindt has been telling stories since before she could put the words on paper.
She
was lucky enough to marry her muse and soul mate. Their cats are their
children,
and
when they’re not spending way too much time gaming, they’re building new worlds
together.
Her short stories have appeared in several anthologies, and she made
her
authorial debut with a racy, erotic short story on a popular porn site for
women.
She
loves a sexy happily-ever-after and helping deserving couples find their
futures
together.
