Author Interview with 2022 Reviewer’s Choice Award Nominee A.R. Vagnetti

2022 RCA Author Interview with A.R. Vagnetti

Interview by Sherry Perkins

PRG 2022 Reviewer’s Choice Award nominated writer, A.R. Vagnetti talks about following your dream but keeping a tough skin–especially as an independently published writer.

AN EXCERPT FROM 2022 RCA ROMANCE/PARANORMAL/FANTASY/ANGELS & GHOSTS/PSYCHICS NOMINEE FATAL STORM:

“Priestess Tanagra,” Oresha purrs, turning to give me her full attention. “Please, call me Jilaya.” Her sapphire regard traverses my body. “Aren’t you a scrumptious little morsel?”

I chuckle even as my nipples tighten at the blatant sexual overtones in her comment. “And call me Kleora,” I respond, reaching for the crystal goblet of dark red yumminess and taking a fortifying sip. “I’m surprised to see you here since you sided with King Grayflame against Nicole during the great battle.”

“Yes, well…” she downs the amber liquid in her glass. “Everyone is allowed one mistake, are they not?”

I nod. “I’m a firm believer in second chances as long as the offense isn’t unforgivable.” I gently place my wineglass back on the bar. “And since it’s rumored you never engaged in the battle directly, I understand why the vampire queen has agreed to an accord with you.”

“Well, aren’t you the forgiving type? I think I love you, Kleora.”

Before I can stop it, a blush steals over my face. “I’ll let you in a little secret, Jilaya.” I lean closer, and the succubus grins with interest before following suit until our faces are mere inches apart. “I bat for the other team,” I breathe.

“Thank the levels of Hell for that,” rumbles a deep voice from behind me. My spine straightens as tingles race down every vertebra, and my heart rate thumps into overdrive.

“Pity,” Jilaya responds with a pout, giving whoever is behind me a saucy wink before turning back to the bartender, eager for her attention.

From the vibration of his tone alone, a hurricane of sensations swirls within me. I’m petrified to turn and discover who the rich, suggestive voice belongs to. But I’ve never shied away from anything, and I’m not about to start now.

I slowly pivot after a deep breath, coming face to face with a crisp white linen dress shirt and black tie. My observation travels up and up, encountering the broadest shoulders I’ve ever seen. Dark, luxurious hair brushes a massive chest that even the inky suit jacket, tailored perfectly, can’t hide. Firm jaw and full kissable lips lifted in a smirk follow. But my heart nearly leaps out of my chest when I encounter ruby red irises.

Mother Earth. This is the legendary Jagorach Darath, the demon king being sworn in this evening. In my four hundred years, I’ve never encountered a demon. Are they all so tall and delicious? His mere presence commands the room and not simply because of his height. He exudes authority and draws every eye in the room.

The king watches me with mild curiosity, but it’s the blatant ownership in his stare that causes my throat to spasm with the need to swallow the answering ache in my chest—the one screaming at me to submit. What the heck is happening to me? I’d never surrender to a male. As the ruler of my people, I must stay in control over every aspect of my life.

Get it together, Kleora.

“King Darath, I presume?” My tone is breathless as I work to ignore the internal conflict tearing me in opposite directions. Instead of reaching for his shoulders and climbing this creature to relieve the inferno building in my core, I clutch the wine glass.

Damn the fates. Based on my body’s reaction to the seven-foot demon, he’s my fated mate. Seriously? After four hundred years, destiny gifts me with a notorious monster rumored to be a direct descendant of Lucifer himself? I am so screwed.

“You smell like a field of peach trees, little nymph. As it so happens, peaches are my favorite fruit.”

“Well, like any good farmer, we spray our fields to keep the pests from eating our crops,” I grin, enjoying the banter despite the wetness soaking my panties at his mere presence. Jilaya’s chuckle behind me fortifies my resolve to fight this forbidden attraction, but still have a little fun.

The demon grins. “Oh, peach. It will take more than a mere pesticide to keep me from what I want.”

“And what is that?” I dare to ask.

“My tongue diving into your soft, succulent flesh until your juices run down my chin.”

A combined gasp permeates the room, every immortal ear tuned into our whispered conversation.

Mother earth. I’m in deep horse manure. Every fiber of my being craves those perfect lips, doing exactly what his words and eyes promise. Or his enormous hands exploring my body, his cock buried deep within me.

If King Darath were anyone but my mate, I might consider a naughty little rendezvous with the erotic-looking brute. But if I allowed myself such an indulgence, the mate bond would demand more, and my people will never accept a demon as their king.

ABOUT A.R. VAGNETTI:

CONTACT A.R. VAGNETTI AND ORDER FATAL STORM AT:

Author Page: https://www.arvagnetti.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/arvagnettibooks

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/arvagnetti/

Pintrest: https://www.pinterest.com/arvagnetti/

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@arvagnetti