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Saturday, August 25, 2012

Love Voodoo Premieres!

Okay, so anyone who has been following this blog for a while has probably heard about this novel ad nauseum but part of the reason why it took me so long to release it was because I wasn't sure how to chop it up. That sounds so harsh, doesn't it? The problem is I have been working on this novel for over three years. As it stands at the moment, it is over 200,000 words or well over 800 paperback pages. I am not Stephen King and have no wish to release something that daunting.

So, I decided to make DeGeneration, the series, into six parts. Each part will be between 55k and 60k long therefore novel length and each part will be sold at a decent price. As this IS a serialized novel, you can start when ever you want to but I would suggest you start at the beginning and read each part as it is released. I planned on releasing them every other month or thereabouts as it isn't a fortune what I am charging ($3.99 - $4.99) given the subject matter and the sex and the erotic aspects, but it isn't money I expect people to hand over to me every month.

If I thought it made sense, I would have released it in two parts as I planned to do but just going through the material, it is too much everything including psychologically intense for anyone to handle that much angst in a setting. It isn't, to me, so much about price gouging (let's face it: this series isn't for everyone and I don't consider it "commercial" in the least as it is about black American woman and French man in an intense, obsessive relationship where no taboo is left undisclosed).

It has more to do with this long epic novel is my baby and it holds a special place in my heart. It doesn't involve any sort of paranormal or urban fantasy aspects but those fans of mine, don't fret. The Supernaturals and The Hart Family Saga aren't going anywhere but my writing will expand into other genres.

I will address that in another blog post but for the time being, in celebration of the premiere of Love Voodoo, I would like to share the premise and an excerpt from the novel. Enjoy and have a wonderful weekend. :-)

All Romance
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The Wedding Invitation…
Brigitte Rousseau receives a phone call from her best friend, Pilar Bourquin, to attend her exclusive wedding in Paris. Although she is more than happy to oblige, attending Pilar’s wedding means running into the love of her life and ex-flame, Lucien Bourquin, Pilar’s brother.

Brigitte finds herself trapped at the same function as Lucien where passion ignites and old wounds reopened. She finds herself pulled between their present situation and the past while their togetherness sparks an all new sexual exploration between them neither can stop nor control.

The Past Revisited…
Brigitte’s togetherness with Lucien yet again begins her journey of the way they were, how they became a couple and the ties that continue to bind and unbind them to one another. When love is pain and truth is beauty, where does the deception stop and real life begin?

It seemed like yesterday I'd stepped off a cold, rainy street in the 5th Arrondissement in Paris into a trendy restaurant-bar I was due to meet Pilar. As usual, my American sensibilities had manipulated me to turn up on time while Pilar was no where to be found. I immediately ordered an expensive red wine from the Burgundy region on the menu and took a seat at a table meant for four. She'd been elusive but mentioned she would be bringing her boyfriend, Daniel, whom I had yet to meet though they had been in a relationship for the past six months, and another male friend I would surely get along with so all would be happy for the night.
I was always a bit dubious concerning Pilar's choice of men as they were usually third-world, first-generation French citizens or tortured, Euro-trash artists of questionable credentials and backgrounds.
Her great “loves” during my one year of French language immersion at university in Lyon had been Claude, a half-French, half-Cameroonian with perfect, upper-class French and a penchant for kinky sex and kleptomania; Erik, a half-German, half-Dutch painter who saw himself as the next Van Gogh and proceeded to hack off one of his ears during a bad acid trip; and Luca, an Italian “count” from a titled family in Milan with breath-taking good looks and absolutely no money. She'd dumped him as soon as she realized he expected her to marry him to finance a lifestyle of debauchery and pleasure in France.
Pilar waltzed in suddenly, all French confidence and nonchalance of the bourgeoisie but I loved her anyway; she was my best friend and “second” sister as my full-blooded American one resided with her husband in the United States’ capital city of Washington, District of Columbia. Her dark auburn-brown hair fell just below her shoulders and her crystal blue eyes shined brightly with love untold. Her newest lover, Daniel, was quite the catch indeed and certainly didn't seem like a snob, psycho or gold-digger.
He was smartly dressed in the cool, Parisian way that only a city native could pull off with such authentic and flawless fashion. The product of an Alsatian father from Dingsheim and French Caribbean mother from the island of Martinique, his light bronze complexion complimented wavy dark brown hair, the most beautiful golden hazel eyes I had ever seen, a crooked Roman nose and sensual full lips.
Pilar, no slouch at 5’6”, had her seductively slim body clothed in a sensible yet irresistibly chic outfit of indigo skinny jeans and a body-conscious scarlet cashmere sweater paired with three-inch stiletto ankle booties. She acted as the perfect foil for Daniel who was at least 6’4” with an athletic yet lean build.
As striking as alabaster-skinned Pilar and her bronzed god of a boyfriend were, my heart stopped beating when I saw the companion accompanying them. This tall glass of water was only an inch or two shorter than Daniel, and equally athletically built but had perfect skin with signs of only a hint of a fading summer tan, aquamarine eyes, perfectly styled light brown hair and was also smartly dressed but certainly not a native Parisian.
There was an air of almost bored detachment which seemed to seep from the very core of his being; he was much too busy appraising the various female merchandise on display—he seemed the type to flee if he felt nothing appetizing existed on his own personal sexual menu.
The music in the cafe—a catchy dance single by David Guetta suddenly changed to a soothing, mid-tempo yet sexually-charged R&B number by M. Pokora; definitely a needed transition expressing my conflicted feelings and sudden interest in this mystery man.
I waved toward the three of them in a cool yet vague way. Pilar waved, murmured something to Daniel and his friend before she proceeded to stride over with a panther's prance. The two men walked over to the bar and began to study the selection of alcohol the establishment served.
Chérie, how are you? Did you find our little shack okay?” she exclaimed in a festive voice before leaning in to give me the traditional cheek-to-cheek, air-kiss greeting, our cheeks touching lightly yet firmly.
“Well, I would hardly call this place a shack. It is way above my pay grade at the moment. I am barely getting any work so I thank you for inviting me out at all.”
Pilar raised expertly shaped eyebrows. “I told you it would be a struggle. You are trying to sell your wares but the job market has been shit for les français for years; how do you think you would make out as une étrangère?”
“Yes, I know,” I responded in a rueful tone, “but I have a new idea to explore and I think I will be able to solve my money problems but I need to contact that elusive brother of yours. He's still in publishing, isn't he?”
She gave me an ironic smile, a twinkle in her blue eyes. “You do know what kind of publishing house Mélange Trois is, don't you? In case you're mistaken and think it is in some form a relation to ménage à trois, may I inform you that they publish horrible, unreadable, coffee-table, bourgeoisie merde, chérie. How could he possibly help you?”
“Because,” I paused and took a healthy sip from my wine for courage, “I have a piece of horrible, unreadable, bourgeoisie, coffee-table merde he might just be interested in and I have to at least meet him and discuss the project with him so I know whether I have been wasting my time.”

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