Poppy Dennison
Paranormal Erotic Romance
Tonya: Readers love to know more about their
authors. Tell us a bit about yourself.
Poppy: First off, thanks for having me Tonya! I’m
excited to be here. As for me, I’m known as a “sassy Southern lady” and I blame
it all on the amazing women in my family. Okay, I suppose the guys get some
credit too, but my mom, grandma and aunts have taught me to speak my mind and
be loyal to friends and family. In my spare time, you’ll usually find me
outside tinkering in our garden or inside curled up with a paranormal romance.
Tonya: I love working in my gardens, too, especially when I get stuck in my writing. Do you have a day job?
Poppy: Writing is my day job…and night job…and any
possible moment in between job!
Tonya: Some of us have things we do to get into the
writing frame of mind like music, or drinks. Do you have anything special you
do to get into the writing mood?
Poppy: It really varies depending on the book. Most
of the time, I like it quiet. There are occasions though when I’ll turn on a
Pandora music channel to fit the mood of a scene. I also do that if I’m cranky.
It’s hard for me to be in a bad mood when Bubblegum Oldies are playing!
Tonya: Where do you keep story ideas? Where do they
come from?
Poppy: I always carry a notebook with me to jot down
ideas. Most of those are one-liners. A piece of dialogue, perhaps, or maybe a
setting or person that I find intriguing. Ideas come from all around me, but
usually from some little thing that sticks in my head and I say “What if…”
Tonya: Are you a daytime writer, night time writer,
and do you have to be alone to write?
Poppy: I’m a daytime writer. I turn into a pumpkin
at night! LOL. I generally prefer to be alone to write, but I sometimes do
“sprints” with writing friends where we have a chat window open and power-write
for a certain amount of time together. It seems to help to know someone else is
putting words to page right there with you.
Tonya: What advice would you give to new authors?
Poppy: There’s a ton of advice out there but I’d say
two things really come to mind. One, follow your heart. Write the story you
want to read and not what you think will sell. Two, make sure you think about
the fact that a writing career is more than just sitting down and writing a
book. It’s a business and you have to consider marketing, accounting, and
legal, oh my. Make sure you have your bases covered before you dive into the
deep end!
Tonya: Do you write better when you first have an
idea of what your characters look like or do you write, then add character
looks?
Poppy: I have the character image in mind first. In
fact, I have most everything down first. LOL. I find pictures of characters,
settings, clothes, anything that will help me be able to describe a fully realized
world. I don’t want to be in the middle of a scene and have to stop and say
“what does his bedroom look like?”
Tonya: What attracts you most about men?
Poppy: I think men are fascinating creatures! Now,
if we’re talking looks, I’m a shoulder gal. I like a fella with broad shoulders
that I can snuggle up against. But the mind…that’s where it’s at. I love to
laugh and I love someone who can have a good debate with me. Give me a smart
one any day of the week.
Tonya: We’re dying to hear about your latest book.
What can you tell us without spoiling the storyline?
Poppy: Dayton is a human who finds out he’s the mate
of a tiger shifter—who happens to be his best friend’s big brother. He’s in for
a bumpy ride because he’s just sassy enough to say “Oh really? I’m your mate?
Prove it!” He doesn’t go down easy. *wink*
Tonya: Is there anything else you want to tell our
readers?
Poppy: Thanks for all your support! I love to hear
from my readers so feel free to track me down on my website or through other
social media. I’m usually up to something!
Tonya: What is your favorite night time snack?
Poppy: I’m not a big snacker at night, but when I
do, it’s usually fruit of some sort. Afternoons are my weak time.
Tonya: Do you like toppings on your ice cream?
Poppy:
I don’t like toppings, but I like stuff *in* my ice cream. Like Oreos. Oh yeah.
Oreo ice cream…hmm, I might have to go get a milk shake now.
Tonya: What’s your favorite meal - Italian, Mexican,
Thai, etc?
Poppy: Southern Fried Cookin’! Or anything my dad
grills. I can’t grill for anything, but he’s a master!
Blurb:
Dayton Whitmore injures his arm playing basketball
with his lion-shifter friends, and his best friend asks Dayton to check on her
estranged brother Hart while he’s in Atlanta visiting a specialist. Though
Dayton and Hart were never close, he grudgingly agrees.
Banishment from his pride meant Hart Sherman could
never see his family again. His liger heritage—a tiger mother and lion
father—was a thorn in his alpha father’s side. He always planned to go back for
Dayton, the man he knows is his mate, but he uses his career as an
entertainment attorney as an excuse to avoid risking Dayton’s rejection. When
Dayton shows up unannounced on his doorstep, Hart wants nothing more than to
claim him.
Knowing what it means to be a lion’s mate, Dayton
isn’t in any hurry to make a lifetime commitment. To convince Dayton he’s
serious, Hart must come to terms with the circumstances of his birth—and find a
place in the pride for them both.
Excerpt:
He growled at Dayton, so Dayton did
the smart thing and took a quick step back.
“What happened to you?” Hart’s voice
was low and dangerous and matched the glare in his eyes.
“Oh, this? Some random thing where I hit a basketball hoop
pole thingy and messed up my shoulder. It’s not that big of a deal.”
Hart grabbed him by the good shoulder and pulled him closer.
“You smell like….”
“A sweat factory. Yeah, I know. You do realize it’s like a
hundred degrees outside. I know your nose is all sensitive and stuff, but I
can’t help sweating. Now I know why they call this place Hotlanta. Sheesh.”
Hart sniffed again. “No, you smell like them.”
Them. Hart’s family. The
ones he wasn’t allowed to see anymore. “Oh.”
Hart pulled him
inside the apartment. Decorated in all black and white, it could have been in
some magazine for modern interior design.
Dayton hated it.
Before he could voice his opinion, another massive itching attack struck. “Oh fuck me.”
Before he could voice his opinion, another massive itching attack struck. “Oh fuck me.”
He pulled away from
Hart and found the nearest doorway. He rubbed his back against it with a
whimper.
Hart stared and
blinked once or twice, but Dayton couldn’t focus on that. All he knew was that
if his back didn’t stop this incessant itching, he was going to lose what was
left of his mind.
Hart walked toward
him, a puzzled frown forming on his face.
Dayton was tempted
to stop so the little disapproving lines between Hart’s eyes would disappear,
but the doorframe was doing exactly what he needed. He ignored the strange impulse and continued to make a fool out of himself
by rubbing against it.
When Hart reached his side, he spun Dayton around and jerked
his shirt up. “You’re rubbing your skin raw.”
“It itches. It won’t stop.”
Hart lowered his shirt again and slid the brace aside.
And then, heaven.
He scratched Dayton’s back.
“Oh, oh my God. Please don’t stop. Right there. No, a little
to the left. Oh. Oh. There. Oh fuck, that’s wonderful.”
Hart ended the back
scratch with a run of his large hand down Dayton’s spine. “They aren’t taking
very good care of their pet.”
Dayton sighed in
contentment as the itching stopped for a blessed moment. Then he realized what
Hart had said. “I’m not their pet.”
Hart humphed. “Tawny
assured me you were well.”
“I am well. Almost.
Soon as I have this—” Dayton paused and waved his hand over his bad shoulder.
“—whatever it is to make my shoulder better, I’ll be good as new. Accidents
happen, you know? It wasn’t their fault. You remember what it was like.
Sometimes you guys forget your own strength.”
Dayton looked up,
and Hart stared down at him with his black eyes gleaming. His face became a
blank mask, the one Dayton remembered all too well.
He crossed his arms
over his chest as his voice became even lower. “They did this to you?”
“Well, I wouldn’t
say did exactly.”
Hart grabbed Dayton’s chin and forced his head up. “Then what
exactly would
you
say?”
“Look, it was a
basketball game. They needed another player and asked me to jump in. I did. I
got body checked. And can you let go of my face? You’re making me
uncomfortable.”
Hart immediately
dropped his hand.
Dayton checked to
see if Hart had left a finger-shaped indention on his cheek. Damn shifter
strength.
They stared for a
long moment, and Dayton fidgeted.
“So, looks like that
whole lawyer gig is paying off for you.” For a random subject change, it wasn’t
his best effort.
Hart shrugged. “I do
okay.”
“So is it true
you’re the lawyer for that new hip-hop boy band? ’Cause I gotta tell you,
they’re pretty amazing. Um, not that I really like boy bands or anything, but
you know how the girls are. They always have that stuff playing, and it’s
really catchy, so I find myself singing along. But hey, I don’t mind singing
along with those guys, so it’s got to count for something, right?”
His second random
subject wasn’t any better than his first.
“Yes, I am,” Hart
answered. “I’d forgotten how much you like to talk. You smell like them.”
“Yeah, buddy, you’ve
said that already. And I guess that’s bugging you, so I’ll just head on back
home. It was good to see you.” Dayton nodded. Mission accomplished.
Except Hart didn’t
seem to agree. He pulled Dayton back to him, and damned if this whole push-pull
thing wasn’t getting on Dayton’s nerves. Hart
wrapped his arms around Dayton’s chest and pinned him in place. “Don’t go yet.”
Dayton closed his eyes as he waited for his shoulder to throb
with the sudden movement, but it didn’t happen. He opened one eye as he looked
down at Hart’s large hands gently holding him. Hart had never been this
touchy-feely with him. In fact, the liger rarely touched anyone. Maybe it was
just a pretense to feel closer to his family. Something about that whole
“smelling like the pride” business.
Hart began taking slow steps backward and pulled Dayton along
with him. He began a purring rumble in his chest that sent shivers down
Dayton’s spine. The good kind of shivers. Except not. Because this was his best
friend’s brother, and he shouldn’t be having good tingles where Hart was
concerned.
“Hart? Um, not sure what you’re doing here.”
Hart nuzzled his nose into Dayton’s hair. “Don’t like you
smelling like them. Never have.”
Wait. What? Dayton’s mind floundered. “Wait. What?”
