Something Dirty about the blog today...guest author Em Petrova brings her erotic cowboy romance

Welcome Em Petrova. Thank you for visiting the blog today

Tell us a little about yourself

Em Petrova lives in backwoods Pennsylvania, where she raises four kids and a Labradoodle puppy named Daisy Hasselhoff and pays too damn much for utilities. She loves to write gritty characters with lots of heart and is well-known for scorching, panty-soaking erotic romance.

What books have you brought along to tell us about today?

Somethin’ Dirty http://www.amazon.com/Somethin-Dirty-Country-Fever-Petrova-ebook/dp/B00FZ0FGDG

Double Dippin’ http://www.amazon.com/Double-Dippin-Em-Petrova-ebook/dp/B00HY2ZSYU

Smoldering Hearts http://www.ellorascave.com/smoldering-hearts.html

Are you working on another book right now?

Yes, book 2 of the Boot Knockers Series from Samhain Publishing. Book 1, Pushin’ Buttons, releases in May 2014. Book 2, Body Language, releases in September. Both are set on a ranch in Texas that caters to women. *wink*

What do you enjoy most about writing? It’s the best job in the world. Not a day goes by that I don’t count my blessings. I’m able to be home with my 4 elementary school-aged kids and my fluffy baby Daisy, using my creativity. Oh, and I get to research a lot of dirty things…

What do you like the least? Nothing really. But if you dig deep I might confess I hate filling out marketing forms for new books.

Would you like to see any of your books as movies?

Somethin’ Dirty is a prime book to movie. Lifetime or HBO here we come!

Can you name any actors you would like to see as the lead characters in your book.

Joe Manganiello from True Blood is who I had in mind while writing Griffin’s character.

What things do you like to do to relax?

Drink heavily. No, kidding. I love to kickbox, walk or just veg out in front of a tattoo reality show.

Do you have another job as well as writing?

I do freelance editing and edit for 2 small publishers. I also do marketing for 2 small publishers.

If you could have one super power in your existence, what would it be?

The ability to grow longer legs. I’m 4’11”.

If money were not an object, where would you most like to live?

I’d live in an RV and drive from town to town across the country, meeting people and learning about them.

What kind of car would you have if money was no object?

A 1960s, beat-up pickup truck. Yes, it’s true, folks. Preferably white.

What’s your favorite food?

Dark chocolate.

Favorite color?

Blue-green. But I can’t wear it without looking like a zombie.

Can you think of a song or piece of music that could be your theme tune?

Survival by Eminem. I love it to pieces.

Just answer these questions as quickly as possible.

Chocolate or vanilla?----- chocolate!

Dog or cat?---- doggy

The film or the book?----- errmmmm. So hard. Book.

Jeans or suit? jeans

jeans or skirt?skirt

Beach or Snow resort? I’m cringing at both. Neither?

Boots or sneakers? Cowgirl boots!

Heels or flats? Heels—I’m too short for flats.

What do you love best about yourself? My hair

What do you like least? belly after 5 babies

Is there a question you would like to have been asked? Best part of my job is talking to readers.

Do you have anything to share with other authors that might be a help? Don’t give up, and don’t stay on the same path. Mix it up.

Is there anything you would like to say to your readers? LOVE YOU!

Can you share one of your favorite parts of one of the books?

Nola’s mind lost track of Molly’s words. Everything around her vanished but those two dark eyes pinning her down.

A movement from Molly snapped her out of it. She looked up in time to see her sister had raised her glass in greeting to Mr. Thigh-Clenchingly Hot.

She wrapped her fingers around Molly’s arm. “What the hell are you doing? Don’t draw his attention.”

“Why not? Have you scored in the past six months? You’ve gotta be feeling the weight of that stare, sis. Why not invite him onto the dance floor?”

“No, I—” She glanced up to see him pull away from the wall and make his way across the floor. “Oh fuck. Now look what you’ve done!”

She tried to duck and run into the masses, but Molly hooked a boot around her shin and sent her careening off-balance. Her beer sloshed over the floor, spattering the boots of some dancers.

“So sorry,” she mouthed, her voice lost in the stampede of boots and the cry of appreciation as someone took the microphone for an old Hank Williams song.

Two long, denim-clad legs slid into her vision. She followed the lines up, up, up to the thick chest sporting the white and gray western shirt. And hell, the fabric had a small embroidered flower design next to the pearl buttons.

A man who wore embroidery was very comfortable in his skin. Not a boy. A man.

If she’d had any question about this, she didn’t now as she stared into his face. Small lines framed his eyes and lips, and a few threads of silver wove through his beard.

She quivered.

“Wanna dance?” He offered a hand to her, and she gaped at it for two heartbeats.

Before she could think, Molly had divested her of her beer. Then her sister shoved her from behind, and Nola jerked forward. Taking her movement as acceptance, Mr. Thigh-Clenchingly Hot wrapped his fingers around hers and tugged her onto the floor.

Before she could suck in air, she was whipped into his embrace. When she did, she filled her head with his personal musk—man and clean soap. Leather.

He was smiling at her. She returned it, then gave a laugh and dropped her gaze.

He leaned in. “I’m Griffin. And before you ask, this is the first dance I’ve had in over a year. So don’t laugh at my jumbled up feet.”

How could she remain aloof to that? Everything about him charmed the pants—or mini-skirt—right off her.

“I’m Nola.” She inhaled deeply and didn’t catch a hint of beer or whiskey on him. “You’re not drinking tonight?”

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Nah. I’m a designated driver. Love to help out the cause and my ma has the—” He bit off the rest of the sentence with a shake of his head. “My ma taught me to give back to the community.”

For several heartbeats, she lost herself in his deep, chocolate gaze. God, were those golden flecks in his eyes? And the creases around each corner enhanced the image that he perpetually squinted into the sun or smiled. Or both.

“Crowded in here,” she said a little breathlessly. The bodies hemming her in tighter to Griffin were unwelcome. Weren’t they?

Damn, she needed to get away from him, and fast. One more upward quirk of his mouth and she’d be wearing a wedding band and apron.

***

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Welcome to Griffin Turner from the book, Somethin' Dirty

Welcome to the blog, Griffin,

Tell us about yourself and the book you star in.

I’m Griffin Turner, and I own a ranch in Wyoming. I’m raising my infant daughter alone, and now managing my mother’s illness and an epidemic in my cow herd. SOMETHIN’ DIRTY showcases my struggles, joys, and one very feisty country girl I can’t keep my hands off.

Most of us want to be different, so what is the one thing you wish the author had done differently with you?
I wish she’d let me use some Grecian Five to get the white streaks out of my beard. *wink*
If you could have added something to the story, and the author would have let you, what would that have been?
More anal. Definitely more anal sex.
What do you think of the author? Promise we won’t tell them….
Em Petrova is very good at taking direction from her characters. She doesn’t make us do what SHE wants.
You get the chance to have the author change your name what will it be?
I’m a big fan of being called “Big G”. I think Nola just might call me that with a straight face.
Give up three of your deepest, darkest secrets.

1.      I bought out my ex. I paid for her college education in exchange for her not aborting my daughter.

2.      I still want to cry over selling my motorcycle to my best friend.

3.      I dread that my daughter’s colic will return. *shudder*

What do you love best about yourself?
I am old enough to know what I want.
What do you like least?
I secretly wish I could sing with Nola and not sound like a hound dog.
How do you feel about the book you're in?
It. Rocks.
Can you share one of your favorite parts of the book without giving too much away and tell us why you chose it?
My mother told me to learn to enjoy even the tough times—to dance in the rain. One of the best nights of my life.
How do you see your future? Without giving anything away.
I see a healthy cow herd out there grazing and a little girl wearing cowboy boots strutting across the fields. I also hope to someday see a baby in the arms of the woman I love.
Let's say they make a movie about this book. Who do you want to play you, and why?
I’ve been waiting for this question! Joe Manganiello is actually the actor Em Petrova had in mind while writing my character.
Anything else you would like to tell us?
After you read Somethin’ Dirty, don’t forget to count your blessings. And crawl under the sheets with someone you love.

Read an excerpt from Somethin' Dirty: 18+

What the hell was he thinking? Nola was twenty-five if she was a day. Was her brain even fully formed?

But oh Christ, the sight of her stomping her curvy legs to the beat as she ripped through the notes of that song made him harden painfully. When she flashed him a grin, he focused on her luscious pout and his cock swelled another inch. How, he wasn’t sure.

The first two songs she’d sung had blown him away. Reedy’s superstar was an understatement. The girl could sing. What was she even doing in small-town Wyoming?

She strutted across the stage on those little red cowgirl boots, the frayed hem of her mini-skirt riding high on her thighs.

He had to get out of here before he lost control. He’d sworn off younger women. Nola was probably a student just like Miranda.

He stared at the dark strawberry blonde waves spilling over her shoulders and reaching for her cleavage, and he knew he was in serious lust. Lust equaled trouble. What could he do anyway? Take her home and halfway through hammer-f**king her over the edge of the bed, Lyric wakes up and screams for a bottle?

He scuffed a hand over his features, trying to wipe away the pounding need that must be evident in his expression. For an hour, he’d shirked his duties as designated driver, allowing others to shuttle people home so he could remain with Nola.

Nola. Her name tasted old-fashioned and brand-new at once on his tongue. A pretty little thing with tanned legs and a killer voice. What she was doing in Reedy, wasting those talents was beyond him. But he wasn’t ready to see her go yet, if that was her plan.

She threw her head back and held a long, throaty note that raised the hair all over his body.

Applause erupted, and he stuck two fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle. When she scanned the crowd and sought him, his balls clenched up tight. That look held more promise than a man of his age and carrying his amount of baggage deserved.

Still, could he pass it up if she offered?

She jumped off the stage for the third time that night, and someone handed her a shot glass brimming full. Some of the amber liquid sloshed down her fingers, and all he could think of was guiding those digits to his mouth and sucking them clean.

Holding his gaze, Nola knocked back the whiskey.

He stepped forward and removed the glass from her hand. Setting it on the edge of the stage, he caught her fingers. She inched close, invading his senses with lush curves and the ripe scent of vanilla and arousal.

Perspiration dotted her throat, and he licked his lips, hungry for a taste.

“You’ve had too much to drink. I’m taking you home.”

“I was hopin’ you’d say that.” She waved at the redhead who had to be her sister, then pointed at him.

Griffin shot the sister his best nice-guy smile. No, I’m not a rapist or murderer. I’ll see your sister home safe. I just might steal a kiss or more if she’ll allow.

Heart wild in his chest, he wrapped an arm around Nola’s waist and guided her out of The Hellion. The brisk night air cut through the heat of his need, and he gulped the coldness into his lungs.

Maybe he shouldn’t try anything, just take her home and be honorable.

“My truck’s over here.” He waved at a well-used truck splattered with mud from the back tires and wished like hell he had something fancy for her.

She walked at his side, as steady as if she hadn’t drunk three beers and a whiskey throughout the night. For a little gal like her, that was a lot of alcohol, even spread out over a few hours. She could still sing like crazy even with alcohol in her veins.

By the time he guided her into the truck, he’d made up his mind that he wasn’t even going to try to kiss her. But when he got in and she scooted all the way over in her seat, leaning over the console, and threaded a hand into the hair at his nape, all self-control went up in a puff of smoldering hope.

“Where does a guy like you come from? I’ve never seen you in Reedy before.”

“I’ve lived here all my life.” His lips were inches from hers, and her breath washed over him. He studied her hooded eyes and the tips of her lashes, dark with mascara. Stripped of makeup, her lashes would be red-gold.

And the hair between her legs too.

“Hell,” he groaned and dropped his mouth to hers.

The first taste punched him in the gut. He snapped his arms around her, hauling her over the console and onto his lap. She clung to him, soft and willing female, her silky thighs draped over his.

He sealed her mouth under his for several seconds then could stand no more. He probed the seam of her lips with his tongue.

She opened to him at once. Her quiet mewl transformed into his croak of need. He trapped her face in his hands and angled her head to sink his tongue deeper into the sweet recesses of her mouth.

Pleasure-pain built in his groin, his erection throbbing against her maddening heat.

He bent her back over his arm until she was pinned to the driver’s door, sucking her tongue, nibbling her plump lips.

She wiggled and tugged on his hair, drawing him closer. Her breasts conformed to his chest as if she’d been made for him.

He tore away. Gasping, he stared down at her. She squirmed like a kitten under the gaze of a hawk.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…”

She twisted a hank of his hair. “I wanted you to.”