Interview of Author Shoshanna Evers

Today I'm pleased to present an interview of romance author Shoshanna Evers.

Latest Book: Ginger Snap (an Ellora’s Cave Quickie)
Buy Link: http://www.jasminejade.com/pm-8862-660-ginger-snap.aspx
Video Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qSQofsMot8

BIO:
Shoshanna Evers writes erotic romance for Ellora’s Cave, and in November she’ll be published in the Berkley Heat anthology Agony/Ecstacy. She is a stay-at-home mom during the week, an advice columnist for a local newspaper, a registered nurse every other weekend, and an erotic romance writer on the opposite weekend. She does not sleep, preferring to spend her evenings doing “research” with her incredibly sexy husband. Shoshanna lives with her family and four dogs in a lakefront cottage in upstate New York. She welcomes emails from readers and writers.

Q: What’s the first thing you did when you received word you’d sold a book?
A: When I first found out I’d sold a book (Punishing the Art Thief to Ellora’s Cave) I reread the email about three times to make sure I wasn’t imagining things. Then I called my husband and read him the email, then my parents, and then I blogged and Facebooked about it because I was so excited. I think if I had a megaphone and a soapbox, I would have done that too. My husband and I went out to a celebratory dinner that night.

Q: What part of the book is the easiest for you to write? Why?
A: The easiest part of the book for me to write is the ending, because I love getting the Hero and heroine to overcome their conflicts so they can come together and live “Sexily *Evers* After”, lol!

Q: Do you eat comfort food when writing? If so, what food inspires your imagination?
A: I definitely don’t eat while I’m writing. It takes two hands to type, so I can’t even drink coffee. I have the opposite problem of eating comfort food when writing – I get so wrapped up in my book that time flies and I forget to eat. But when I wrap something up or I’m taking a break, it’s cookie o’clock!

Q: What hobby do you enjoy when not writing?
A: I don’t know if you’d call this a hobby, but I work part time as a nurse, and I do enjoy that. I only work every other weekend, just frequently enough to keep my skills and resume current without interfering with staying home with my son and writing. And I read constantly. I have books in every corner of my house, and now that I have a Kindle with the one-click buying, I’m never without a new book to enjoy.

Q: You’re on a remote island with a handsome man, a computer, and a “mysterious” source of electricity to power your computer. What do you do?
A: I’m pretty sure I’d stay there forever quite happily, provided the handsome man was my husband and our son was allowed to join us. With the internet I can write from anywhere and submit manuscripts and edit them through email. In fact, this is starting to sound like a great idea. I might move to this island soon. Maybe tomorrow.

Q: Facebook, MySpace, Blogs, Chats, or Twitter. Which do you like best and why?
A: I like them all for different reasons. I love Facebook because there’s one central place to look at everyone’s photos, and I like being able to comment on people’s status updates and see what others are saying. MySpace I never got into. Just totally missed that boat. I have a blog for aspiring writers (http://www.thewriterschallenge.com) and I’m part of a multi-author blog (http://www.flirtyauthorbitches.com) and those are great because it’s a chance to share info and news in a longer format than a quick Tweet or Facebook update. I occasionally do author chats and those are so much fun, because I love connecting with readers and hearing their thoughts about books. I’m new to Twitter, but so far it’s a blast. I love being able to follow people in the industry so I can keep on top of what’s going on. I’ve also made some new friends on Twitter, and we reply to each other all the time. But if I had to pick just one, it would be Facebook. I think. Or Twitter.

Tell us where to find you: website(s), publisher’s page(s), blog(s), Facebook page(s), etc. List them all!
Email: shoshanna.evers@yahoo.com
Website: http://www.shoshannaevers.com
Blog: http://www.thewriterschallenge.com
Blog: http://www.flirtyauthorbitches.com
Shoshanna on Ellora’s Cave: http://www.jasminejade.com/m-660-shoshanna-evers.aspx
Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/ShoshannaEvers
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/people/Shoshanna-Evers/100001587442785


BLURB:
When Holly sits on Tom’s lap to tell him what she wants for Christmas, she knows she’s naughty enough to get a lump of coal—but she never expected to get a hand of ginger root. Peeled ginger in her bottom burns like crazy without causing any actual harm—so the punishment can go on as long as naughty Holly deserves.

Ginger-figging has been used since Victorian times to keep girls from clenching against a proper caning because, as Holly finds out, clenching around ginger has her begging for mercy—and more turned-on than she’s ever been. From now on Holly should be on her best behavior…but with this sort of punishment, it’s more fun to be bad.

EXCERPT: (Content Warning)

Tom lowered her to the floor and she slumped, boneless and thoroughly satiated, to the carpet. Rolling over onto her back, Holly looked up at him and smiled. His Santa hat was askew. The lights from the Christmas tree blinked on and off and created a devilish glow on his body.

“That was incredible, Santa,” she said, smiling up at him.

“We’re just getting started,” he said, taking his red Santa hat off and tossing it onto the carpet next to her.

“Oh, I’m done, thank you though,” she replied.

Tom laughed and shook his head. “Maybe I should get to decide when we’re done.”

And now she was ready to go again, just from his words.

Holly’s eyes widened as Tom reached under the Christmas tree and pulled out a small wrapped gift. “What’s that?”

“A present that must be opened—and used—tonight.”

Holly sat up on the carpet and took the gift with both hands. “Okay…” She opened the package slowly, being careful not to tear the wrapping paper. She had a thing about that. She liked to reuse wrapping paper whenever possible.

Inside the box…what on earth was this? She held a large, bulbous root of some sort in her hand. It was kind of brownish-gray, and it looked almost as if it were covered in light bark or something. “Um, thank you?” she said.

Tom smiled. “We have to prepare it.”

Holly furrowed her brow. Did he think she was going to go do some gardening now or something?

“Let me see the ginger for a moment, please,” he said as he finished zipping his pants back up.

“Ginger?”

“Yes, that’s a hand of ginger you’re holding. Each of those offshoots is called a finger. And while it is a present for you, I need to prep it a bit before we can put it to good use.”

Holly handed the ginger back to Tom. “Okaaaay,” she said. “We’re making gingerbread cookies? Now, at ten o’clock on Christmas Eve?”

Tom just shook his head, but Holly could tell he was very excited. Excited? About making cookies? “Nope, we’re not cooking. I’m going to ginger-fig you for being a naughty girl.”

“Ginger-fig me?” Wait, naughty? What was he going to do to her exactly?

Tom laughed and started to walk out of the living room toward the kitchen. “You may as well pull your pants all the way off, instead of just sitting there with them around your thighs like that. I want you completely naked and in the kitchen.”

Holly slowly pulled off her pants and set them neatly on the carpet by the sofa. “What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Holly, get in the kitchen,” he called back. “I want you to see this.”

Holly stood up and walked bare-assed into the kitchen, grateful for the heavy drapes that both kept out the winter chill and kept the neighbors from seeing into their home. “Tom, I’m really not in the mood to bake right now. Maybe if we had a mix or something. But if you expect me to make something that involves grating fresh ginger then you are out of your mind.”

Tom stood in front of the sink, carefully cutting one large finger off the hand of ginger. The scent wafted through the air toward her and she sniffed, intrigued.

“Smells yummy,” she said.

“It does smell delicious,” he agreed. “But we’re not baking now. I’m going to ginger-fig you to put you into the proper mindset for Christmas dinner tomorrow.”

She was not going to Christmas dinner, so there was no need for her to be put into any mindset at all. But whatever. “All right, I give in. What’s that mean—ginger-fig?”

“Did you know that it used to be called feaguing?” Tom asked. “People would take a half-dead horse they wanted to sell, stick some freshly peeled ginger up its bottom, and the horse would prance around and hold its tail up like a much younger horse.”

“That’s terrible! Poor horsey. But why ginger?”

Tom smiled as he carefully continued to peel the outer layer off the ginger root. “Because it burns.”

Oh. Hell.

“Anyway,” Tom continued, “you know how I love old Victorian caning stories.”

Did she ever. It was one of the things that attracted her to Tom, actually. The thought of being caned turned her on to no end. Actually being caned, on the other hand, was a thrill that she could only truly appreciate after the fact, when she was reliving the experience with one hand buried in her pussy.

“They used to ginger-fig the naughty ladies who needed to be caned so that they wouldn’t be able to clench their ass cheeks when the cane struck.”

“Why couldn’t they clench their ass cheeks?” Holly asked. It was like looking at a car wreck. As much as she didn’t want to know—and as much as she didn’t want to find out personally—she had to learn all about it.

“When they clenched their butt muscles the ginger in their asshole would burn terribly. So with each stroke of the cane, the young ladies had to make a choice. Clench, and the sting of the cane would be somewhat mollified. But their insides…their insides hurt a hundred times worse. Or they could try to not clench, force themselves to relax into the pain and just take the caning, and while the caning would be exquisitely stingy, their rectum wouldn’t burn quite so badly.”

“That’s quite the conundrum,” Holly said, even as she wondered what choice she would make. She’d always clenched her ass cheeks whenever Tom caned her—how could she not? That thing hurt like a bitch! But it amazed her to discover just how wet her pussy would get, even when he really laid into her.

She looked at the ginger in Tom’s hand. He was cutting an indentation at the base of the finger of ginger.

“It’s a retention notch, like on a butt plug,” he explained. “This will keep the ginger from being expelled before I want it to be.”

“How did you learn all this stuff?” Holly demanded. “I’ve never even heard of people using ginger up their ass before!”

“It’s a huge fetish,” he said, running the freshly prepared ginger under cold water and rinsing away all the little extra pieces that had stuck onto the smooth, pale yellow surface. “Once I heard about it, all I had to do was Google it and I found dozens of websites devoted solely to the art of figging.”

“Well, I appreciate the thought,” she said, “but I’m not sure how you think ginger-figging me is going to make me any less naughty.”

“Think of it as an experiment. We’re going to find out if this works.”

“When?” she asked.

“Now.”

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