Peaches Monroe, age 22, is a plus-sized beauty who spends quiet days with books, in the small town of Beaverdale, Washington.
One Saturday afternoon, she's balancing precariously on a chair, in a bridesmaid dress, when a handsome dark-haired man comes running into the bookstore. He knocks Peaches over, she lands in his muscular arms. They lock gazes, and ...
She recognizes him.
As the sexy vampire heartthrob she watches on TV once a week.
Peaches and Dalton Deangelo are completely wrong for each other. He's only in town temporarily, working on an indie movie. She should stay away. He should stay away, too.
But they're drawn to each other. Dalton claims it's because they're made from the same stardust. He says a lot of dramatic things, but it's his carbohydrate-free perfect body and sexy touch that turns Peaches to Jell-O.
**Genre: NEW ADULT ROMANCE / Contemporary Romance / Erotic Romance**
We are Made of Stardust is available now at:
Amazon - http://amzn.to/14vIWmi
Barnes & Noble - http://bit.ly/1abvAl6
Kobobooks - http://bit.ly/12ib911
AllRomanceEbooks - http://bit.ly/1aKWgYG
Paperback coming soon
Q&A with MimiStrong
Q. Is sexy, smooth Dalton Deangelo based on a certain real actor who plays a vampire on TV?
A. Yes and no. It's based on the mile-high girlie crush one of my friends has on the actor Ian Somerhalder, and the hypnotic hold he seems to have on this grown, married woman, much to my amusement! She blushes when she talks about him.
Q. Where did the idea for We are Made of Stardust come from?
A. My favorite romantic movie is Notting Hill, and I think any of us who've worked a retail job have fantasized about our favorite actor walking through the door! I think this story has been in my head for years. Most people would get so nervous, they wouldn't even speak to the actor, so I needed a girl who could hold her own and then some. Along came Peaches. She doesn't see herself as a fun girl, but oh boy is she fun.
Q. How long does it take you to write a novel?
A. I wish I was one of those speedy authors who can write a full-length novel in one week, but it takes me about 5 weeks to complete a first draft of something as long and involved as We are Made of Stardust. Then I still have to do research and editing. I think the second novel in the series will go faster, as I know the characters better. I'm always working hard so my readers don't have to wait long.
Q. What kind of music do you listen to when you write?
A. The band that lives below me. But! Not anymore, because I've just moved. Me, Mr. Strong, and our two handsome kitties are now in a quieter neighborhood. Actually, We are Made of Stardust is the reason we moved. All that writing about quaint, quiet small town life in Beaverdale gave me a ferocious craving to move. So, in the middle of writing the book, we gave notice and started looking for a new place! I uploaded the book to Amazon about 8 hours before the movers showed up.
Q. Is the Peaches Monroe series going to be long? Is it a love triangle? Will every book end on a brutal cliffhanger?
A. I've never written a long, multi-book series. I hope that you readers will guide me. Please post reviews and talk about the book. Tell me what you'd like to see happen. I have some big, big plans, but nothing is locked in until it's published.
Q. Why do you self-publish?
A. I started self-publishing in 2011 when I couldn't find a publisher for my first novel, Charlie. (Written under my YA pen name, Dalya Moon.) That's when I first discovered the amazing indie community, with book bloggers and other fun authors such as the folks who hang out in the Kboards' Writers' Cafe. From then, there was no stopping me! Stardust is book #15 for me, and I'm having a lot of fun. Oh, it's stressful at times, and there are low moments, but those times are when you find out what you're made of. I think what keeps me grounded are the great friends I've made, and giving back to the indie community.
Q. Thong or granny panties?
A. I like a little coverage, but not so much that it sticks out above the waistband of my jeans.
Q. When people find out you write erotic romance, do they treat you like a freak?
A. Yes, but the cool people treat you like the right kind of freak. People already think I'm weird that I self-publish. Actually, most random acquaintances find the topic quite dull until I mention I write “dirty billionaire stuff,” which is why I usually keep it under my hat. It's hard for me to really cut loose if I'm thinking about people reading the books.
We Are Made Of Stardust Excerpt
“Are we telling secrets now?”
“Either that or kissing. Your choice.”
I shook at the thought of divulging my secrets.
His gaze went to my lips and he leaned forward slowly.
He murmured, his voice low and barely audible, “I'm going to give you a dramatic on-screen kiss.”
I giggled in response, which normally would have made me cringe at my stupidity, but the way he was looking at me was so serious and sexy. I felt like my body was under water, with pleasant pressure pushing me together in all directions, but that at any moment, I might fly apart like so much stardust.
Dalton's expression got ultra-serious, and just like that, he turned into Drake Cheshire, the cultured vampire with a taste for big-lipped girls under one hundred pounds. He stared intensely at my eyes, my lips, my cleavage, my throat, my lips, and then up to my eyes again. I melted like a pat of butter on summer pavement.
He moved in closer, so our noses were an inch apart, and he repeated the intense look. Eyes. His, green like precious emeralds. Lips. Mine, slightly parted and trembling. Throat. Feeling very exposed. Cleavage. Mine, heaving. Probably. By the way I couldn't quite catch my breath.
His gaze slid back dreamily to my lips, and he tilted his head to the side, not yet touching his mouth to mine.
We held steady, the only movements our breathing and minor swaying with the motion of the vehicle. I could feel the heat from his skin against my lips. He tipped his head back and looked me in the eyes again.
Oh, the slow torture.
His hand moved from the outside of my thigh to the inside. I gasped. No nylons. Bare flesh. His hand was only at the hem line of my bridesmaid dress, but the way he was looking at me, it felt much more intimate. He took one of my legs firmly in both hands and pushed it to bring space between my legs, and then his hand traveled up further.
He breathed against my lips and blinked slowly as his hand moved in, up under the peach-hued tulle skirt of my dress. His fingertips grazed the silky material of my underwear.
I arched my back as the sensation of his touch blazed through me. A tiny sigh escaped my parted lips. a Rafflecopter giveaway