Interview with Seth Dawson, Hero of Windswept Shores by Janice Seagraves

Interview with Seth Dawson, hero of Windswept Shores

By Janice Seagraves

 “I have Seth Dawson, my hero from Windswept Shores, with me today. Say hi, Seth.” I turned toward my couch.

Seth rests an arm across the back of my couch, which pulls his surfers t-shirt taunt against his muscles and deep chest. He’s wear tan shorts, with his ankle resting on his knee, and has no shoes on his size thirteen feet. “G’day.”

“Where are you from?” I ask.

“I reckon you know since you made me up.” Seth picks up my book on Sydney that I have on my coffee table. “I hail from Sydney, but my port of call these days is Fort Lauderdale. That is until I washed up on the little island, where I met Megz.” He picks up my book on the Bahamas.

My face heats and I clear my throat. Hmm, I should have put away my research books before he came over. “Isn’t it true that you something of a bad boy?”

Seth drops both the books back on the table and leans back. “I reckon that depends on who ya ask.” He winks.

“Describe yourself in three words.”

“I’m a true blue Aussie.”

“I think that five words.”

“No worries mate. I reckon the readers will get the reference.” Seth waves, and I looked behind me, wondering who he’s waving at.

“Uh, Okay. So tell me about meeting Megan.”

“She found me washed up on the beach. I coughed and rolled over, but I must have startled her because her scream woke me up.” Seth’s gray eyes crinkle at the corners as he chuckles.

“Is there something you’d like to tell Megan?”

“That she’s stronger than she thinks she is.”

“What would be a perfect date?”

“I’d take Megz for a walk along the on the beach and then a swim in the ocean.”

I frown. “But you and Megan live on a deserted island?”

Seth grins, his cheeks dimpling. “Abso-bloody-lutely.”

“Moving on.”  I looked down at my question sheet. “Boxer or briefs?”

“If I’m not going commando, as you yanks call it, than its briefs.”

The heat that started in my cheeks goes down my neck. “What kind of shoes?”

“I prefer being barefoot or thongs.”

“What can you tell me about your family?”

“Me parents are still around the last I looked, and me da has a few bobs to rub together.”

“A few or more than a few?”

Seth looks around and whispers, “Can ya keep a secret?”

I lean forward. “Yes.”

Seth whispers, “Da’s a very rich man, but don’t tell Megz. I want her to love me for myself.”

I lean back in my chair and smile. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

Seth grins. “Oh ace. That’s good news, that is.”

I cover my mouth. “Oops, I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

“I reckon the cats out of the bag now.”

I nod. “Are you ready to tell everyone about Windswept Shores?”

“Orright.” Seth clears his throat. “For Megz it would have been a dream vacation, a holiday to the Bahamas, 

but something goes horrible wrong. For me and Megz it would be a time we’d never forget.”

Windswept Shores by Janice Seagraves
Cover Contest Winner
erotic contemporary romance
novel (approx 50K)
price $4.95
Cover Art by Pink Petal Books with assistance from Winterheart Design

BLURB:
The sole survivor of a plane crash, Megan is alone on a deserted island in the Bahamas until she finds a nearly-drowned man washed up on shore. Another survivor, this time from a boat wreck. With only meager survival skills between them, will they survive and can they find love?

Except 2:

“Will this do ya?”

Megan glanced at what Seth had in his hands. “Oh, you found my gathering basket and scrapers. Sure, that’s fine for gathering mussels.” She unbuttoned her cotton shirt and hung it on a nearby bush. The lace-edged camisole she wore underneath was a bright green but didn’t really go with her outfit. She stuck in her thumbs into the elastic band of her capri pants, stopping with a startled look at Seth.

“Don’t let me stop you.” He grinned, showing a flash of white teeth in his tanned face.

“Uh, I’ll just leave these on.” Yanking her hands out, her face heated as she ducked her head.

“If I weren’t ‘ere, you’d do it in the nuddy,” he accused.

“If that means naked, not quite,” she corrected, hanging the basket on her arm.

“Then in you’re underdaks?”

“Uh—underwear?” She frowned, wondering why he wouldn’t drop it. “Um, yeah, it saves on the washing, especially since I have to do it by hand and also drying the clothes is iffy business at best.”

“I hear ya, but still don’t let me stop you from doing something you do naturally.” Heat filled her body with the look he gave her. 

Oh, God, he’s a man all right. “Thanks, but I’m more comfortable with my clothes on with company around.”

Seth arched an eyebrow. “I’m company?”

“You’re my guest.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “How about a mate? I reckoned you could use one.”

“If that means friend, sure why not?” She smiled.

“Abso-bloody-lutely,” he agreed.

They waded out and began scraping off the black, shiny mussels that clung to the rock. The surf pulled and dragged at her legs, getting both of them thoroughly soaked. 

“Isn’t that a beaut?” Seth showed Megan a fine clutch of mussels. “I got ‘em in one go.”

“Oh, that’s great! And they’re nice big ones, too.” She held out the basket, but slipped on a stone, stumbling against his side.

He dropped the shellfish into the basket she held. “Easy there, mate.”

“I mean the mussels,” she snapped.

“I meant the mussles, too.” He scraped at another batch. “Course, a man’s muscle is his most important 

body part.”

“O-oh, you’re just like every guy I know. Why is it always sex with men?”

“Do you know which muscle I was even talking about?” He smirked. “Most blokes are scum.” He glanced 

sidelong at her. “Most blokes just want to tell their mates how many birds they've shagged that week.” He dropped more mussels in her basket. “But I could be different, if you ever want to find out.”

“You do realize I’m a married woman?”

Seth yanked his gaze up to hers. “Megz, I realize you’re a spunky widow.”

“I’m not a widow. He’s alive,” she snapped, blinking back tears.

“You have a nightmare every night about his death.”

“I-I don’t know for sure.” Megan scraped vigorously at a new spot. “Jonathan might have made it. The plane could have . . . popped out—” Half the shiny black shells fell into the water, as she snatched at the rest. “From the other side of the wave,” she finished.

“Orright.” He shrugged.

Megan dropped her mussels into the basket. “I think we have enough. Let’s go in.”

“Ready when you are, mate.”

Roaring filled her ears as a large wave hit, for a moment all Megan could see was teal tinged water.

A hand grabbed her arm, keeping her rooted to the spot. “Megz?”

Megan coughed rubbing the saltwater sting from her eyes. “I’m fine,” she gasped.

“Let me have the mussels. The waves are picking up.” He dropped his scraper into her basket, then took it from her.

Another wave hit, but this time it lifted Megan off the rocks. Seth grabbed her around the waist. She clung to him.

“The sea means to take you back.”

“It can’t have me.” She looked around. “I think I lost my scraper.”

“Let it go, mate. You can make another.”

In the lull, when the wave washed back out to sea, Seth handed Megan back the basket. “Hang on a tick.” 

She clutched it to her chest. He abruptly picked her up and waded ashore.

Surprise made her eyes big as her cheeks heated. She glanced shyly up at him, then over his shoulders to the rocks the waves crested over. “The tide has come in. I usually keep watch for things like that.”

“I must be a distraction for ya.” Seth grinned, while he set her down on the sand.

“When are you not a distraction to anyone?” she asked with one hand against his muscular chest.

“My mum said I’m always one to hog all the attention to myself.”

“I think she’s right.” She took a step back so she could pat his arm. “Thank you for keeping me from being swept off to sea.”

“That’s what mates are for.” He took the basket, with a look inside it, he added, “Besides, you were carrying me brekky.” Seth smirked down at her. “I really like yer top. You should wear it more often.”

“Oh!” Megan gave a mortified glance at her clingy camisole, which looked like it was spray painted on. Her erect nipples were making credible attempts to poke holes in the thin material. She snatched her brown shirt off the bush, hurrying to slip it on. Dammit, I’m never wearing this again.

Seth chuckled while he hauled the mussels up to their camp.

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Janice Seagraves website: http://janiceseagraves.org/

Janice Seagraves blog: http://ladyjanice.blogspot.com/

Windswept Shoes buy link: http://pinkpetalbooks.com/Windswept-Shores-Janice-Seagraves.html