Why is the setting to your story so important?
Saturday Night Special takes place at a dirt track. I love racing. Love it. It’s not denim or leather...it’s a flame retardant fire suit on a racer. I’m a sucker for a guy in a firesuit. Having the story set at the track is important because there are so many little places where hot moments can occur. The mystique of a handsome, powerful man who can wrangle a race vehicle helps, too. With a racer, their vehicle and the track are integral to who they are. They live to race. So setting the book in the world he’d spend all his time in was important. He’s happiest where everything feels the most natural.
Now that you have a feel for the publishing world, would you do anything different if you had to do it all over again?
I might wait a little longer and be more patient. I’d also make sure I had a blog/site/facebook/twitter/etc all set up before I signed a contract. Having all those promotional tools in place is so nice and would’ve been nice earlier on. But honestly, there isn’t much I’d do over again. I’ve had a great time in the publishing world so far.
How did you celebrate your signing?
Usually we go out to dinner. But for Saturday Night Special, we went to a race and got concession stand food. It was fun because we drank in the details of the dirt race and had concession stand hot dogs. Not elegant, but fun!
What was the craziest thing you’ve ever done when it came to a storyline in your book?
I got a massive sunburn while trailing a Hooters Pro Cup Racing team around the pits. I got the best information, great pictures and one whopper of a burn. It was crazy, but worth the effort. And yes, I was invited to hang out with them.
Is there a certain time of day you prefer to write?
Night time. Seems like the house is all quiet and I can concentrate – even though I usually have a movie or music playing in the background. Yes, I’m strange that way. I like silence, but I need noise to write.
What trait would you never think to give a hero because it’s just not attractive, no matter who the man is?
Men with feet fetishes. Blech. I’m so not into feet and guys who are are NOT attractive to me.
Reading or TV? Reading. I can make up my own heroes that way.
Hand written letter or Homemade meal? – Homemade beef and noodles. Gets me every time.
Dog or Cat? Both. Gotta have both.
Finger paint or Body paint? Both because finger painting with either kind of paint on bodies is so much fun.
Classic car or Shiny New car? Back seat of a classic Camaro
The sound of a heartbeat or a crackling fire? Heartbeat
Wine or Beer? Blush Wine – my favorite is Richard Childress Blush
Saturday Night Special
By Wendi Zwaduk
Blurb:She makes his motor run.
Blaine Haeferle drives fast and lives on the edge. He’s not afraid to risk it all for the win—unless his heart is in the mix. He loved once, but things ended in disaster. Can he accept the woman who holds his heart, despite all their jagged past?
Mallory Sweet never intended to leave Blaine without a word. But one night changed everything for her. Instead of facing her past, she ran. Is coming to terms with her past the key to winning the love of her life back?
Anything can happen on a Saturday night under the lights.
Blaine took a step back. Something happened between them, but fuck if he understood what. “Don’t tell me you came here for small talk. You hate making conversation for the sake of wasting time. What’s going on?” He touched her cheek. “You aren’t even smiling. What’s wrong?”
Her shoulders sagged and a tear slipped down her cheek. The old feelings rushed back into his heart. The longing, the need, wanting to fuck her until she screamed—God, he had it bad for her. He gathered her into his arms and stroked her hair. “Tell me who hurt you. I’ll make it right.”
Mallory stared up at him. “No one hurt me.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand, smearing her mascara. Instead of scrambling for a tissue to fix the damage, she continued staring at him. “I had a plan when I came here. And now it’s all fucked up. I lost my nerve.”
“Oh?” He brushed a lock of her hair off her forehead. “Why is that? What was your plan?”
“This.” She threaded her arms around his neck and bounced on her toes to meet him for a kiss.
The blood rushed from his brain to his groin. He closed his eyes. She still tasted like honey and lemon. He swept his tongue over her lips and moaned when she gave him passage. He tangled his tongue with hers and held her tight to his chest. So soft and strong in his arms. Her light whimpers and the scratch of her nails on his back added to his pleasure. He drifted away, lost in the kiss, drunk on her and in total bliss. If he had more time, he’d throw her over his shoulder and take her into the camper bay of the hauler to have his way with her.
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