Name: Gray Dixon

Age: A lady doesn’t tell, but let’s just say I’m young at heart and old enough to know better.

Where are you from: Originally Virginia, but father was in the Navy so moved at 3 months old to Southern California, then to Boston, back to Virginia, to DC and then met and married a man in the Navy and we moved a lot as well.

 

 

A little about your self `ie your education Family life etc

I’m a wife, mother, grandmother, friend and colleague.

 

 

Fiona: Tell us your latest news?

I recently released Apartment 18B, the first book in The Park Avenue Trilogy. I’m writing book 2, A Murder at Apartment 18B presently and re-editing/rewriting several others that I’m re-releasing this year.

 

 
Fiona: When and why did you begin writing?

Started writing in 2009 after I edited a few stories by my husband, and sold my interest in a company business, I needed something to do in my “retirement”. I hadn’t written anything in years beyond company newsletters, correspondence and emails. I now write full-time, along with running a small press publishing company.

 

 
Fiona: When did you first consider yourself a writer?

When I received my first review on my first published book.

 

 
Fiona: What inspired you to write your first book?

My husband’s encouragement saying I could do it.

 

 
Fiona: Do you have a specific writing style?

I write what I like. Not sure if that’s a style.

 

 
Fiona: How did you come up with the title?

With the current release, the name just came to me, followed by the storyline. Sometimes, I work backwards.

 

 
Fiona: Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

With Apartment 18B, not really. It’s strictly for enjoyment—the erotic kind.

 

 
Fiona: How much of the book is realistic?

When it comes to the BDSM part, pretty close. I’ve attended the BDSM Writers Conference for three years and along with workshops, they have “hands-on” demos. Great education!

 

 
Fiona: Are experiences based on someone you know, or events in your own life?

I like to put 5% real to me situations and the rest, I make up.

 

 
Fiona: What books have most influenced your life most? a mentor?

I used to read a lot, mainly paranormal, but haven’t picked up a book to read for enjoyment in a year. If I could say I had a mentor, it would be my husband.

 

 
Fiona: What book are you reading now?

Sadly, nothing.

 

 
Fiona: Are there any new authors that have grasped your interest?

Again, I haven’t read anything in a while.

 

 
Fiona: What are your current projects?

Two major ones, the second book of the Park Avenue Trilogy which I mentioned before, and a Young Adult inspired by my granddaughter. She’s also helping me create the world with character names, descriptions, world-building. I’m really excited about the project.

 

 
Fiona: Name one entity that you feel supported you outside of family members.

Fans.

 

 
Fiona: Do you see writing as a career?

Yes, and no. I thought I’d be retired and enjoying travel and family activities, not starting another career. But, as long as I have fun, I’ll keep doing it.

 

 
Fiona: If you had to do it all over again, would you change anything in your latest book?

No. I’m very happy with it.

 

 
Fiona: Do you recall how your interest in writing originated?

I’ve always written something—poetry, short stories, etc.—but not until 2009 did I ever think I could do what I’ve accomplished since then.

 

 

 

Fiona: Can you share a little of your current work with us?

Here’s a little excerpt from when Christopher and Brooklyn meet and from Brooklyn’s POV:

“Oh, my God. My shoe.” I snatched the mate to the one still on my foot from my blue-eyed hunk. “My beautiful shoe. Five hundred and twenty-five dollars flushed down the toilet. I saved for six months to get these, and they’re ruined.” My eyes filled with tears. I loved them, my first real designer pair.

“It’s just a shoe. You can have them repaired.” His unconcealed amusement at my plight didn’t console me. Not one iota.

I glared at him. “These are Manolo Blahnik’s. They aren’t just a shoe.”

His lips twitched. “And?”

I couldn’t tell if he held back a mischievous grin on purpose or it was pure arrogance because the loss meant nothing to someone like him. “Knowing my luck, they could cost more to fix than what I paid for them.” A tear spilled over the edge and inched down my cheek despite my struggle to keep it concealed. Anger mixed with sadness overwhelmed the self-control I desperately clung to. I hate crying, especially in front of someone I didn’t know. The emotions of falling on a public street, a throbbing ankle, possibly missing out meeting the man of my dreams, and the loss of my shoe compounded to the point I couldn’t take much more.

When his fingertips gently brushed across my cheek, wiping the wet streak from my face, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I took a sharp breath and let it out as I gathered my words. “I have to go. Thanks for helping me.” I reached down and pulled the other shoe off. I couldn’t run away from this gorgeous man on one foot.

He didn’t get the hint to move, so I pressed my palms against his chest. His hard-muscled chest. Big mistake. The hard ridges and contours of this man’s physique tempted my fingers to explore the enticing planes beneath his perfectly pressed shirt. He radiated heat, drawing me closer. Before I realized what I was doing, I pushed lower on his abdomen. Even through his suit, I could feel a six-pack beneath the fabric. I pressed the flat of my palm and slowly I slid my hand down lower until I hit the top of his belt buckle.

I heard the sharp intake of his breath and glanced up to catch those mesmerizing blue eyes blaze with hunger, darkening to a deeper tone. Damn! I was in trouble if I stayed one more second, tangled in his intoxicating web.

My skin buzzed from the magnetic attraction between us, and we weren’t even flesh to flesh. I peeled my gaze from his, my hands didn’t move. Summoning strength was futile, like he had some kind of gravitational influence I couldn’t break free of.

What the heck was wrong with me? Seducing a complete stranger in the backseat of his car? I think the fall knocked all sense out of me.

He winked and gave me a devilish grin with dimples to match. The intenseness of his eyes took my breath. “I think your bag is vibrating.”

“Huh?” I snatched my hands back. Good Lord, of all times for my pocket vibrator to go off. The fall must’ve bumped the switch. I tried to recover from another mortifying moment and make an excuse. “It’s probably my date calling me back. Thanks for your help. I have to try and salvage my lunch, and I can’t do it with you in my way.” Maybe my plea would be enough to shatter his spell over me.

“I insist you let me drive you to the restaurant. You’re not in any condition to walk on that foot.” His eyes softened. Was compassion buried in there?

Oh, he can’t do that—handsome and nice too. I hesitated two seconds too long. Before I could answer and object, he swung my legs around to the interior and slid in beside me. Smooth, without hesitation, he was so close I found myself fighting for the breath he stole moments before.

“Hey, are you always used to getting what you want? I didn’t say yes, you know.”

“Yes, I am, and I insist on driving you.”

The dominant position he took left no wiggle room for me to suggest an alternative response.

“Okay,” I managed to eke out.

“You probably should turn your…toy off before you run down the battery.” He gave me that wickedly sinful grin again. Damn! He knew. My attempt at covering up the noise didn’t work.

I swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said and gave a little hmmph then turned my face from his.

“Suit yourself.” His arrogant tone irritated the last of my patience. Like I wasn’t already humiliated that I tripped and fell, but then the gorgeous man who rescued me stumbled across my little secret pleasure. Damn!

 

 
Fiona: Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?

Making the dialogue sound real and not stilted.

 

 
Fiona: Who is your favorite author and what is it that really strikes you about their work?

I have several and in different genres, so I can’t really pick.

 

 
Fiona: Do you have to travel much concerning your book(s)?

Some of my earlier books are based on my travels which I try and inject in all my books. Apartment 18B takes place in New York City.

 

 
Fiona: Who designed the covers?

I’ve designed them.

 

 
Fiona: What was the hardest part of writing your book?

The ending, which really isn’t an ending because I didn’t want it to end. That’s why it is a trilogy.

 

 

 

Fiona: Did you learn anything from writing your book and what was it?

I learned I can write with emotion.

 

 


Fiona: Do you have any advice for other writers?

Keep writing because the more you do, the better you get.

 

 
Fiona: Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers?

Thank you.

 

 

Fiona: Do you remember the first book you read?

Either a dictionary or encyclopedia. I started reading before I started school.

 

 

Fiona: What makes you laugh/cry?

Laugh—something unexpectedly funny.

Cry—a good chick flick.

 

 

Fiona: Is there one person pass or present you would meet and why?

Many of my ancestors, mainly the strong women in history. One day I plan to write their stories, my way.

 

 

Fiona: What do you want written on your head stone and why ?

She loved life and lived it her way.

Because I have.

 

 

Fiona: Other than writing do you have any hobbies?

Sewing and jewelry making.

 

 

Fiona: What TV shows/films do you enjoy watching?

Love History Channel or anything DIY.

 

 

 

Fiona: Favorite foods / Colors/ Music

A good steak

Purple, Black, Pink

Smooth Jazz, anything really

 

 

Fiona: If you were not a writer what else would you like to have done?

I’d always wanted to be an astronaut, but the closest I got was living in Cape Canaveral. Since I couldn’t be the first woman in space, I did many other things, enjoyed all of them, but now I’m doing exactly what I want to do. All those experiences made me who I am today and wouldn’t change anything.

 

 

 

Fiona: Do you have a blog/website? If so what is it?

Here are all my social media sites:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/gray.dixon.50

Twitter: https://twitter.com/GrayDixon

Blog: http://graydixon.blogspot.com

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Gray-Dixon/

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+GrayDixon

Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/25504491-gray-dixon

 

I can always be reached at publisher@IHeartBookPublishing.com

APARTMENT 18B

(Book One, The Park Avenue Trilogy)

 by Gray Dixon

 Buy Links:

 Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B019X8W1UG?*Version*=1&*entries*=0

 BN: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/apartment-18b-gray-dixon/1123181968?ean=2940152542875

 Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/603485

 All Romance Ebooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-apartment18b-1955957-147.html

 IBooks/Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/apartment-18b/id1071142166?mt=11

 

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/apartment-18b

 I Heart Book Publishing: http://www.iheartbookpublishing.com/apartment-18b.html

 Blurb:

Unlock unimaginable pleasure…

Christopher Nash, a man of the world is disgustingly wealthy and to some a notorious womanizer. His methods in sex and women are the same as in his business dealings—execute a plan and always get what he wants. After rescuing a sassy and gorgeous woman, something behind her eyes makes him want to take care of her.

…and surrender to him.

Brooklyn Jameson literally stumbles at the feet of a mysterious man. Handing her an unusual business card offers the opportunity to meet again. At the appointed time and place, he makes an offer she can’t refuse. Life is about to change when she accepts the proposition—four weekends unlocking her wildest fantasies of pleasure. In the end, can Brooklyn trust Christopher and surrender to every dark desire inside Apartment 18B or run away when he breaks her heart?

 

 Excerpt

 “Oh, my God. My shoe.” I snatched the mate to the one still on my foot from my blue-eyed hunk. “My beautiful shoe. Five hundred and twenty-five dollars flushed down the toilet. I saved for six months to get these, and they’re ruined.” My eyes filled with tears. I loved them, my first real designer pair.

“It’s just a shoe. You can have them repaired.” His unconcealed amusement at my plight didn’t console me. Not one iota.

I glared at him. “These are Manolo Blahnik’s. They aren’t just a shoe.”

His lips twitched. “And?”

I couldn’t tell if he held back a mischievous grin on purpose or it was pure arrogance because the loss meant nothing to someone like him. “Knowing my luck, they could cost more to fix than what I paid for them.” A tear spilled over the edge and inched down my cheek despite my struggle to keep it concealed. Anger mixed with sadness overwhelmed the self-control I desperately clung to. I hate crying, especially in front of someone I didn’t know. The emotions of falling on a public street, a throbbing ankle, possibly missing out meeting the man of my dreams, and the loss of my shoe compounded to the point I couldn’t take much more.

When his fingertips gently brushed across my cheek, wiping the wet streak from my face, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I took a sharp breath and let it out as I gathered my words. “I have to go. Thanks for helping me.” I reached down and pulled the other shoe off. I couldn’t run away from this gorgeous man on one foot.

He didn’t get the hint to move, so I pressed my palms against his chest. His hard-muscled chest. Big mistake. The hard ridges and contours of this man’s physique tempted my fingers to explore the enticing planes beneath his perfectly pressed shirt. He radiated heat, drawing me closer. Before I realized what I was doing, I pushed lower on his abdomen. Even through his suit, I could feel a six-pack beneath the fabric. I pressed the flat of my palm and slowly I slid my hand down lower until I hit the top of his belt buckle.

I heard the sharp intake of his breath and glanced up to catch those mesmerizing blue eyes blaze with hunger, darkening to a deeper tone. Damn! I was in trouble if I stayed one more second, tangled in his intoxicating web.

My skin buzzed from the magnetic attraction between us, and we weren’t even flesh to flesh. I peeled my gaze from his, my hands didn’t move. Summoning strength was futile, like he had some kind of gravitational influence I couldn’t break free of.

What the heck was wrong with me? Seducing a complete stranger in the backseat of his car? I think the fall knocked all sense out of me.

He winked and gave me a devilish grin with dimples to match. The intenseness of his eyes took my breath. “I think your bag is vibrating.”

“Huh?” I snatched my hands back. Good Lord, of all times for my pocket vibrator to go off. The fall must’ve bumped the switch. I tried to recover from another mortifying moment and make an excuse. “It’s probably my date calling me back. Thanks for your help. I have to try and salvage my lunch, and I can’t do it with you in my way.” Maybe my plea would be enough to shatter his spell over me.

“I insist you let me drive you to the restaurant. You’re not in any condition to walk on that foot.” His eyes softened. Was compassion buried in there?

Oh, he can’t do that—handsome and nice too. I hesitated two seconds too long. Before I could answer and object, he swung my legs around to the interior and slid in beside me. Smooth, without hesitation, he was so close I found myself fighting for the breath he stole moments before.

“Hey, are you always used to getting what you want? I didn’t say yes, you know.”

“Yes, I am, and I insist on driving you.”

The dominant position he took left no wiggle room for me to suggest an alternative response.

“Okay,” I managed to eke out.

“You probably should turn your…toy off before you run down the battery.” He gave me that wickedly sinful grin again. Damn! He knew. My attempt at covering up the noise didn’t work.

I swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said and gave a little hmmph then turned my face from his.

“Suit yourself.” His arrogant tone irritated the last of my patience. Like I wasn’t already humiliated that I tripped and fell, but then the gorgeous man who rescued me stumbled across my little secret pleasure. Damn!

About Gray:

Gray Dixon, the nom de plume of erotica writer of hot, sexy stories for the adult crowd, loves walks along the beach at sunset, a glass of wine over a romantic dinner and a night of love.

On the serious side, she currently resides in Orlando, Florida, the land of magic, surrounded by the treasured gems in her life, a caring, loving husband, dutiful and loyal daughter, and precious, delightful granddaughter. Oh and not to forget her mischievous Silky terrier, Fitzy.

Many things excite Gray—crafting, watching the History Channel, reality shows (not all, but some), travel, and of course writing. She’s worked hard all her life in many interesting fields and enjoyed all of them, but she finally found enough time to relax and enjoy escaping into the worlds she creates through her stories. She writes contemporary and paranormal erotica with BDSM elements, and hopes readers will enjoy the tales she weaves.

 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/gray.dixon.50

Twitter: https://twitter.com/GrayDixon

Blog: http://graydixon.blogspot.com

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Gray-Dixon/

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+GrayDixon

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/25504491-gray-dixon

YouTube: https://youtu.be/GPljMHZrwUU

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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