Interview with Dominic Price
Tell us a little bit about you.
My name is Dominic Price,
bassist for the rock band Black Phoenix. Perhaps you’ve heard of us. About ten
years ago we topped the Billboard charts—a multi-platinum band whose last album
was the most successful of its century. Until the day our drummer overdosed,
and my best mate and lead singer, Noah Clark, fell apart, taking down the band
with him. I live in London, England, but am currently in California recording
our first album after a ten year hiatus. I don’t care much for California—too
many memories I just can’t escape.
What did you think the first time you saw your heroine, Rebecca?
The first time I saw Rebecca
was three years ago and I was completely gobsmacked. Her hair is like fire and
all I could think about is what it would look like draped across my skin. I had
to have her, and did—in the back seat of her car. I had a kink in my ass for a
week after that first night.
What did you think the first time you saw her again, three years later?
A car accident brought me back
to her. The odds that I would end up in her hospital had to be astronomical.
Then I opened my eyes and there she was—the only woman ever to rock my world. All
I could think about was that I could never have her. I’d hurt her too badly to
ever have the hope of making up for past mistakes.
What do you like most about Rebecca?
Her laugh. Becca laughs with
her whole body—no holding back. Her face lights up, her eyes soften and she
loses her too-focused, always-in-control demeanor. I will do anything to make
Becca laugh, it’s that incredible.
If you could change
one thing about her, what would it be?
Whatever the power she possesses that makes me so very
vulnerable to her. I lose control when she touches me. It’s bloody
embarrassing.
What is your biggest fear?
What is your biggest fear?
Wow, you go straight for the jugular don’t you? *sigh* That
one day she will look at me and wonder what she’s gotten herself into. She
could do so much better than me. She’s a card-carrying member of MENSA. I’m
just a long-haired, ear-ringed, uneducated musician who came from trash and
only excels at two things; playing the bass and pleasing a woman.
~~~~
~~~~
EXCERPT:
Dominic’s level
of pain could be gauged by the way he held himself, and his careful indrawn
breaths. The doctor in her wanted to reach out and comfort. The woman in her
wanted to reach out for a completely different reason. She’d never had such an
irresistible urge to touch anyone the way she wanted to touch him. It had been
there right from the beginning, their first meeting, and was still just as
strong now.
She fisted her
hands to keep from acting on the impulse.
“Can I come in?”
Definitely not.
Even injured and surly, he still emanated so damn much testosterone he made her
teeth sweat. Her heart did a little flutter whether she wanted it to or not.
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Have dinner
with me.” There was the arrogance that had been missing a few moments before.
His tone wasn’t commanding, but left no doubt in her mind that for him there
was only one answer.
Too bad she
couldn’t give it. “I already ate.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No.”
His brow
furrowed. “Why the bleedin’ hell not? Are you involved with someone?”
“I’m not seeing
anyone, no.”
At her
admission, he stepped closer, invading her space. Heat emanated off him, and
although he did not touch her, she felt surrounded by him. “Take a drive with
me?”
The low, soft
timbre of his voice thrilled her, washed over her skin like a caress, and she
fought a tremor. The heat of his body warmed her through her clothes. Wanting
to step closer, to press against him and inhale his all too familiar scent,
Rebecca stepped away. Physically distancing herself from him. She only wished
emotional distance was as easily achieved. “Drive where?”
“Does it
matter?”
Not really,
since there was no way on earth she was getting in a car with him tonight. Not
when just the sight of him had her hormones standing at attention, one whiff of
him, her body thrumming. Not after spending the entire day thinking about him.
Remembering.
Aching.
Did he still
hurt over the loss of what could have been? Did he still dream of her, of them?
Had he ever?
Dominic blew out
a breath and shook his head, his frustration clear. “It’s just a damn drive,
Becca.”
It was so much
more. Acceptance would be the first crack in the barrier she’d built around her
heart after he’d walked out. With only the smallest encouragement, he would
stop by on a regular basis, invite her to spend time with him. Which would,
even if she kept her wits about her and turned him down, lead to more
heartache. Just seeing him again made her yearn. Spending time with him was not
an option.
She didn’t
know why he was back in California. The why didn’t matter. What mattered was
that he would be gone again soon. Dominic Price wasn’t the type to hang around.
And she wasn’t stupid enough to believe she could change him.
Secondary
Characters Who Demand Their Own Stories
When
I was writing After Midnight—Black Phoenix book 1—I honestly had no intention
of creating a series. I had one story in my head, one where in the midst of
wrapping up the hero and heroine’s happily-ever-after with a bright red bow, I
would also give secondary character Dominic Price his. Then he walked onto the
page and instantly stole my heart. I knew immediately he would need his own book.
He was blunt, didn’t believe in lying and often said whatever he was thinking.
He was funny—I’m a sucker for a man who makes me laugh—but also…wounded. There
was a sadness to him. A deep sadness tied to a woman he loved desperately, but had
walked away from: Rebecca Dahlman. I had to explore this—had to—and so Midnight
Heat was born.
Writing
Dominic’s story wasn’t easy. At times I was an interviewer asking questions of
him, then rewording them when he wouldn’t give me an answer. At times a
psychologist, studying his mind and behavior, digging for the reasoning behind
his actions. Dom was afraid to trust me with his backstory, just as he was
afraid to trust Rebecca, but eventually, I got it out of him. Then, I had to
figure a way to help him win Rebecca back. In the end, he didn’t need my help
after all.
~~~~~
Rebecca
pulled into her driveway to find Dominic leaning against the post of the front
porch. It’d been a lousy week and the last thing she needed, the last possible
thing she could deal with right now, was him. Yet here he was. Looking as
sinfully gorgeous as ever.
His
long black hair was messy, like he’d been running his fingers through it. Her
own twitched with the need to bury her hands in his hair and pull him to her.
Pull him in tight, setting aside everything that stood between them. Trusting
this time would be different.
For
a long moment the temptation was so great she couldn’t breathe. She walked past
him, used her key to unlock the door but didn’t open it. Exhaustion pulled at
her, made her limbs heavy and her eyes burn. The double shift she’d just come
off had been difficult, made more so by the arrival of Mr. Masters – the little
boy’s father. He hadn’t said anything, just stood against a light pole outside
the emergency entrance. In a fashion eerily similar to the way Dominic stood
now.
It
had taken her the entire drive home to shake off the trickle of alarm from
between her shoulder blades.
Unable
to summon the most basic of manners, she sighed. “Not tonight, Dom.” Tonight
she felt far too exposed and vulnerable. “Honestly, I don’t have the strength
for another go around with you.”
He
looked her over slowly, studying her without a word. She knew what she looked
like, had seen her reflection in the mirror after getting cleaned up at the
hospital. Dark circles of fatigue beneath bloodshot eyes, her naturally pale
skin more drawn than normal. She couldn’t hold her tongue when she was tired.
No doubt he’d use that to his advantage.
“Are
you okay?”
The
fact that he asked, after everything they’d said to each other, nearly brought
tears to her eyes. No. “Yes.”
He
was quiet a moment, then blew out a breath. “I was hoping to have that talk you
wanted, but I can see tonight’s not the night.”
She
allowed herself to relax a bit. “It’s really not.”
“Just
so you know, I’ll go home tonight, but I’m not going away.”
“What
does that mean?”
Dominic
gazed deep into her eyes. “I want a second chance, Rebecca.” His tone was a
dark promise that curled around her and had her pulse kicking hard. “A chance
to show you how much I’ve changed. To be what you want me to be; a lover and a friend.”
Heart
in her throat she could only whisper. “For how long?”
“As
long as you’ll have me.”
She
closed her eyes and swallowed back the ache, the longing. Yes, cried her heart. Oh
please, yes. Her head refused to believe. “Dom,” she murmured.
He
didn’t speak. Nor did he walk away. Instead, he stepped closer. So close his
breath brushed her temple, his body heat warmed her. She opened her eyes,
tipped her head up to see into his. He stood close enough to touch her, only he
didn’t. “Your best friend’s name is Karmen.”
Confusion
scattered her thoughts. “How?”
“You’re
wrong. I met her once – the same night I met you. She’s Latina, pretty but…I
barely remember her.” His eyes darkened to mirror the night sky. “I was too
blinded by you.”
“Dominic.”
She lifted a hand and settled it in the center of his chest, feeling the hard
muscle as well as the heat—traced her fingers over one pec and his body
tightened.
Still,
he didn’t touch her.
“You
listen to classical music all the time. So much it used to drive me bonkers.
But only if you’re happy. When you’re sad, you listen to the blues.”
Or
his. She’d grown quite fond of Black Phoenix’s music over the years.
“I
don’t recall what make or model your car was, just that it was a bit dodgy and
smelled like cheese.” His chuckle vibrated up her arm.
God,
how was she supposed to resist this? He was giving her everything she’d
demanded of him the other night. All the answers she’d accused him of not
caring enough to have. Rebecca leaned in, pressing closer, absorbing his scent,
his proximity, and still his arms remained at his sides. He wasn’t going to
make it easy on her. Anything that might happen, everything was being left up
to her.
“I
had a kink in my ass for a week after that first night.” His gaze fell to hers
as she laughed. “I would do anything to make you laugh.” His voice was low,
raw, as he reverently touched her cheek. “I would do anything to make sure I
never make you cry again. I don’t want to be what makes you cry, Rebecca. Not
anymore.”
Her
body wouldn’t stop shaking. “Dominic.”
“I
miss you so much. I miss us. There’s not a day goes by that I don’t regret
walking away from you.”
It
was too much to take in at once. Rebecca couldn’t move, and her vocal cords
seemed to be temporarily useless. She ended up just standing there, as her
heart took a hard leap against her ribs and hope blossomed.
A little bit about Sarah:
I have a
confession to make. I am a car junkie.
It’s true. I
can talk horsepower, 0 to 60 times and torque with the best of them.
Well, perhaps
not the best of them, but I can actively participate in a conversations about
cars that make most women’s, and a lot of men actually, eyes glaze over. I
credit my uber-talented, mechanic husband with this. However, my love of
driving too fast and want of something sexy & classic to do it in is why
I’ve paid attention to his ‘car speak’ for all the years we’ve been together.
I know the
difference between a carburetor and fuel injection, a turbo charger and super
charger, and I know the effect of cold weather start-ups on fuel mileage. I can
do my own oil change, a tune up and change my own fuel filter. And yes, I’m the
one that gets irked when I read something totally wrong in a book – like the
NYT bestseller who had her heroine remove the valve stem caps from the FBI
agent’s car and the tires went flat. No, that’s not how it works.
Yup, I’m a
bit of a geek.
My love of
cars can be seen in my writing. I can’t help myself, I usually slip a great car
in the book. Take Not Without Risk, for instance – in RISK, the hero drives a
1969 Pontiac GTO, and the heroine a 1959 Cadillac El Dorado.
I skipped
giving either character in After Midnight (Black Phoenix #1) something fancy.
Well, I knew Noah had a wonderful car, I just don’t point out what it is until Midnight
Heat (Black Phoenix #2):
Aston Martin Vanquish
Volante
Beautiful,
isn’t she? (yes, I mean the car, LOL)
I typically choose American Muscle as the cars to feature in my books, since that is where my passion lies. But, Noah Clark is a British Rock Legend, so this gorgeous piece of British art was the only choice for him. And for Dominic Price—hero of Midnight Heat, who has a serious passion for this car.
~~~~
A knock sounded directly opposite her
head. Rebecca startled. “Go away, Nathan,” she said without opening the door.
“Who’s Nathan?”
Dom.
The surge of
excitement coursing through her cemented the fact that she was in trouble. Big
trouble. She opened the door with a smile on her face. “It must be my night for
visitors.”
“It’s a beautiful one. I wanted some
air. Thought I would see what you were up to.”
“You have a habit of doing that.” Not
that she minded all that much.
He shrugged, a move that pulled his
black tee even tighter across his shoulders and afforded her a glimpse of abs
she knew were flat and ridged. The dark sunglasses were nowhere to be seen.
“You’re not going to tell me to sod off, as you obviously did with this Nathan
bloke, are you?”
She glanced at her driveway, where the
motion light on her garage illuminated a sleek black convertible, top down.
“Rolling down the windows just isn’t the same, huh?”
“Not really, no.”
“So, it didn’t have anything to do
with feeling emasculated driving a minivan?” He cursed beneath his breath. Her
smile grew. “What is that thing? Is that Noah’s infamous convertible?” The one
Dom had mentioned after his accident.
“First, it’s not a thing, it’s an
Aston Martin. And yes, it’s Noah’s.” By his tone, Rebecca guessed she was
supposed to be impressed by the brand. His eyebrows slashed downward. “Tell me
you know what an Aston Martin is.”
“Horribly overpriced?”
“Worth every pound. She’s performance
and elegance in one damn fine automobile. Look at her lines. She’s got style
and grace combined with raw horse power.”
He was pretty passionate about the car
wasn’t he? “Do you two need a moment alone?”
“Ha-ha.”
She laughed, which had the unfortunate
side effect of a brief coughing spell. Dominic’s gaze turned cold as steel.
He stepped across the threshold. Close
enough she could feel the soft caress of his breath on her cheek. He lifted a
hand and gently brushed his knuckles along her neck. “What happened?”
“An incident at work. It’s…” her
explanation trailed off as he cradled her face in his hand. He brushed his
thumb over her cheek, her chin, then finally her bruise as he lowered his hand
to her neck. His touch was feather light. Still, she couldn’t stop the tremble
that worked down her legs or the tears that burned her eyes.
“Becca?”
It was the genuine concern in his
voice that pushed her over the edge. Unable to say anything, she shook her head
and stepped into his body. He wrapped his arm around her back. The other
shifted to cradle her head. Rebecca pressed her face against his chest as tears
wet her cheeks.
“I’ve got you,” he said softly.
Music drove them to the
edge of reason. Only LOVE can bring them back.
Music.
It’s always been an important part of my life. Probably more important than
most who know me even realize. Take away my books, and I could go on. After
all, I’d still have the characters in my head to keep me company. Take away my
music…I cringe just thinking about it. I can’t imagine life without music.
There
was never a time that music and writing weren’t a very large part of my life.
Growing up, our house was constantly filled with music. From Broadway Musicals
to Rock n’ Roll, Country to Classical, there was always music playing. On the
rare occasion the stereo was silent, my sister was usually singing or one of us
was practicing an instrument. That’s just how life was in my house, and I
wouldn’t have it any other way.
As
an adult, I still surround myself with music. Even now as I type, Shinedown is
blaring through the house speakers. The only problem? I keep singing along when
I should be typing, which is exactly why the only time there isn’t music
blaring through my house is when I’m writing. When I write, I need complete
silence. That’s not to say that music doesn’t inspire my writing, because it
does. In a big, big way.
I
began building stories around song lyrics as far back as the fourth grade. A
particular lyric or phrase would speak to me, and the next thing I knew I had
built an entire scene around that phrase. The song would get stuck in my head
and the next day I would have a few chapters scribbled in my notebook based on
the theme. In the fourth grade, I wondered if I was the only one who did this.
As an adult, I know I’m not.
It
was through my love of music that the Black Phoenix series came to be. As
teenagers I think a lot of us dream about being the one to bring a rock star to
his knees. However as an adult, I realize that twenty-something rock and
rollers probably aren’t happily-ever-after material. Which is why my band is older.
They’ve made the mistakes young men in the industry make. They’ve done the
groupies and the booze, and have matured enough to realize that’s not for them
anymore. They’re ready for their HEA. Too bad their heroines don’t always see
it that way.
Why
Do I Write Romance?
I’ve
been asked this question more times than I can count, and usually when I’m
totally unprepared to answer. So today, I thought I’d get my thoughts together
once and for all.
I didn’t always want to be a writer. Wait, can you hear that? That noise is my family unanimously hollering, “Yeah, right!” Sorry, family, but it’s true. Had you asked Sarah Grimm, the young girl, what she wanted to be when she grew up, she would have given a different answer every time. My dream changed like the blowing of the wind through the trees, or with whatever story I was reading. Then, I picked up my first romance novel and oh…my…God! I’d always loved to read, and suddenly I had discovered a whole new world. A world I could get lost in, where no matter how impossible the odds, a happily-ever-after always waited. Let me tell you, for a die-hard romantic, this was nirvana!
What? No shock and awe that I’m a die-hard romantic? Learning that bit probably doesn’t surprise you, does it? I believe in love, not just as a fundamental part of human relationships, but as a force that can heal emotional scars. I truly believe someone exists for each of us—a person we are destined to find. Our other half. A soul mate. Perhaps the surprising part is that I’ve always believed this—even as a young girl.
I love reading romance. But, I love writing romance even more—bringing two people together, even if it is only in my imagination. I love the stuttered heartbeats when the hero and heroine first meet—that first glance. Heck, I love the second and third glances! I love the gut punch of sexual awareness, the sweetness of that first kiss, and the momentary panic over the realization they’ve fallen in love. I love the idea how even at the worst of times, at those moments when you least expect it, two people can find love. I love the idea of good conquering evil, of the hero and heroine winning against all odds, and the bad guy ‘getting what he deserves’ in the end.
Why would I want to write anything else?
I didn’t always want to be a writer. Wait, can you hear that? That noise is my family unanimously hollering, “Yeah, right!” Sorry, family, but it’s true. Had you asked Sarah Grimm, the young girl, what she wanted to be when she grew up, she would have given a different answer every time. My dream changed like the blowing of the wind through the trees, or with whatever story I was reading. Then, I picked up my first romance novel and oh…my…God! I’d always loved to read, and suddenly I had discovered a whole new world. A world I could get lost in, where no matter how impossible the odds, a happily-ever-after always waited. Let me tell you, for a die-hard romantic, this was nirvana!
What? No shock and awe that I’m a die-hard romantic? Learning that bit probably doesn’t surprise you, does it? I believe in love, not just as a fundamental part of human relationships, but as a force that can heal emotional scars. I truly believe someone exists for each of us—a person we are destined to find. Our other half. A soul mate. Perhaps the surprising part is that I’ve always believed this—even as a young girl.
I love reading romance. But, I love writing romance even more—bringing two people together, even if it is only in my imagination. I love the stuttered heartbeats when the hero and heroine first meet—that first glance. Heck, I love the second and third glances! I love the gut punch of sexual awareness, the sweetness of that first kiss, and the momentary panic over the realization they’ve fallen in love. I love the idea how even at the worst of times, at those moments when you least expect it, two people can find love. I love the idea of good conquering evil, of the hero and heroine winning against all odds, and the bad guy ‘getting what he deserves’ in the end.
Why would I want to write anything else?
~~~~~
EXCERPT:
Dominic’s level of pain could be
gauged by the way he held himself, and his careful indrawn breaths. The doctor
in her wanted to reach out and comfort. The woman in her wanted to reach out
for a completely different reason. She’d never had such an irresistible urge to
touch anyone the way she wanted to touch him. It had been there right from the
beginning, their first meeting, and was still just as strong now.
She fisted her hands to keep from
acting on the impulse.
“Can I come in?”
Definitely not. Even injured and
surly, he still emanated so damn much testosterone he made her teeth sweat. Her
heart did a little flutter whether she wanted it to or not. “That’s not a good
idea.”
“Have dinner with me.” There was the
arrogance that had been missing a few moments before. His tone wasn’t
commanding, but left no doubt in her mind that for him there was only one
answer.
Too bad she couldn’t give it. “I
already ate.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No.”
His brow furrowed. “Why the bleedin’
hell not? Are you involved with someone?”
“I’m not seeing anyone, no.”
At her admission, he stepped closer,
invading her space. Heat emanated off him, and although he did not touch her,
she felt surrounded by him. “Take a drive with me?”
The low, soft timbre of his voice
thrilled her, washed over her skin like a caress, and she fought a tremor. The
heat of his body warmed her through her clothes. Wanting to step closer, to
press against him and inhale his all too familiar scent, Rebecca stepped away.
Physically distancing herself from him. She only wished emotional distance was
as easily achieved. “Drive where?”
“Does it matter?”
Not really, since there was no way on
earth she was getting in a car with him tonight. Not when just the sight of him
had her hormones standing at attention, one whiff of him, her body thrumming.
Not after spending the entire day thinking about him.
Remembering.
Aching.
Did he still hurt over the loss of
what could have been? Did he still dream of her, of them? Had he ever?
Dominic blew out a breath and shook
his head, his frustration clear. “It’s just a damn drive, Becca.”
It was so much more. Acceptance would
be the first crack in the barrier she’d built around her heart after he’d
walked out. With only the smallest encouragement, he would stop by on a regular
basis, invite her to spend time with him. Which would, even if she kept her
wits about her and turned him down, lead to more heartache. Just seeing him again
made her yearn. Spending time with him was not an option.
She didn’t know why he was back in
California. The why didn’t matter. What mattered was that he would be gone
again soon. Dominic Price wasn’t the type to hang around. And she wasn’t stupid
enough to believe she could change him.
.png)
