Hi Mel! And thank you for being part of my authorpalooza.
Thanks so much for having me Veronica!
So I hear you have new book out. Can you tell us about it?
Yes! And I’d love to =)
Released March 1st by Silhouette Nocturne Bites, HER DARK LORD is my vampire book with an Ancient One as the hero, and Kia, a hybrid—part human, part vampire—as the heroine. A recent illness has triggered immortal reversal (an ageing disease) in the heroine’s mother, years after being attacked by a vampire while pregnant with Kia. The Ancient One’s blood is her mother’s only hope, and Kia will stop at nothing to get it.
Now that Her Dark Lord is out? Are you working on anything new?
Yes. I’ve just finished Ice Cold Lover—the daughter of Cray (a gargoyle) and Loretta from Stone-Cold Lover (released August 09 with Ellora’s Cave)— I’m waiting for edits so it can be released!
I’m also eagerly awaiting the April 20 release of a contemporary short story with Ellora’s cave about a stripper exploring her fantasies.
I’m about a third of the way through another Nocturne Bites story (this time werewolves), and halfway through a co-authored single title story about a psychic patient and her brilliant, drug addicted brother who is training to be a doctor.
Phew!! No wonder I’m tired LOL!
What is one day in the life of Mel Teshco?
Morning consists of emails and checking blogs while Miss Two has brekky and watches a DVD or cartoon. After that it’s just snatches of things I need to do – writing related but rarely writing – as I remember them during the day. Miss Two’s naptime sees me either catch up on some sleep, housework or a good dose of writing. Then after that I’m not on the computer so much until probably 8.30. Once I’m on at that time (If I’m not procrastinating on IM) it’s usually writing as long as I’m able, normally to midnight, but sometimes much later.
Did you find it hard at first to becoming an author?
Probably the hardest thing for me about becoming a ‘published’ author was the complete sense of unreality. There were no fireworks and dizzying heights. More a ‘wow, I finally did it’.
This was then taken over by the ‘what if my next book is crap’ syndrome. (g)
Another thing I thought being published had done, was slow my word count right down. But I had no idea how much time would be spent on other writing related tasks that contributed not one word to any of my manuscripts.(though I actually do enjoy this side of the business.)
Is it harder now to write a new book or was it harder the first time around?
It’s much easier to write a new book when you’re not published and worrying that no one will like it. But you really have to let go of that kind of self-inflicted stress and allow the creative juices to flow again—or the joy of writing is no longer joyous.
What format do you enjoy reading more in .. print or electronic books?
Right now, definitely print books. Though after the conference I’m planning to buy an e-reader and I’m betting my old fashioned joy of holding a print book will fade very quickly!
How thrilled were you when you first realized you were going to get published?
Very!! Getting to publishable stage has been a long work in progress. I didn’t sit down and write an MS and become an overnight sensation, like almost all authors, I worked my butt off for quite some years to learn the craft and practice, practice, practice.
Of all the genres you could have chosen to write, why paranormal?
I really didn’t know all that much about the paranormal genre, and in comparison to other romance genres, hadn’t even read all that many vampire, werewolf or shape shifter characters (to name a few). But the moment I tried my hand at it, I knew this was what I wanted to write. (And now read). I think it’s the fun of world building and stretching the imagination, then planting a feisty heroine and a brooding alpha male right in the middle of a nice big tangled web.
Do you think you might ever branch out and write in other genres?
Yes. I have a contemporary short due out with Ellora’s Cave in April (Kallie Revealed). I also have the co-authored book I mentioned (Believe) which is really fascinating and so very complex. I’d love to try YA and perhaps even category one day (my original dream).
Do you have a writing schedule or do you have a goal to write a little everyday?
As long as I write a little of something every day, I’m happy. I honestly can’t remember a day I haven’t in a very long time. (note pad and pen in handbag at all times, holidays or not). Having said that, I haven’t got the hellish deadlines like many of my author friends, so if I get by with just half an hour of writing, I’m satisfied.
What was the last book you read?
I just finished reading JR Ward’s COVET. I’m almost finished Nalini Singh’s ANGELS’ BLOOD.
What is one thing that might surprise readers/fans about you?
I very rarely read anything with demons in it (seems JR Ward and Nalini are exceptions!! LOL) I just can’t get past the little voice in my head (called strict religious upbringing) going NO!!!
Is there anything else that you want readers to know about you?
Dream big!!
You can learn more about Mel Teshco here:
Here are few blurbs/excerpts of Mel's Books:
When dhampir Kia Montana takes a man home, she isn’t looking for names or a relationship--she only wants someone who can satisfy her lust for both sex and blood. But Kia’s new mission is to find Sean Maximillus, Lord Vampire and the lone being capable of curing Kia’s mother. Kia thought she found the key to success with Ronan, a mysterious man who promises to take her to Maximillus…and who shares a carnal passion with Kia even bloodlust couldn't match.
But Ronan also seems to know too much about Kia...things she never told him. And as she is drawn deeper into Ronan's wolrd, he reveals secrets that will change Kia's life forever...
Excerpt: (c) Mel Teshco copyright material.
Kia carefully emphasized the unusual green-gold shade of her eyes as she applied a coat of black mascara to her lashes. Capping the lid, she took one last look in the mirror.
Drop dead gorgeous? Yes. But only tonight had she truly been glad of her inherited looks.
Copper hair streaked with natural shades of amber and blonde fell halfway down her back. It swished against the bared skin along her spine where a designer, cherry-red gown with its plunging front and back V-neckline, showed off her curves.
None would ever guess that beneath the delicate woman lurked a monster, half-starved and restrained by the barest thread of steely determination. Just one sniff of human blood, one drop, and all her resolve could easily snap.
A pure vampire she was not, but her fundamental needs were just as fierce as any of the murderous purebreds. That she never killed in bloodlust, and her senses inherited from her surrogate, bloodsucker father were mostly unrivalled, seemed to be the only distinction.
But tonight wasn’t about her. Tonight, it was about her mother’s survival. It was as simple and harsh as that.
Kia’s hand trembled when she smeared crimson lipstick to the arch of her full lips. She couldn’t fail her mum now. Time was running out. A week, maybe two, was all Chantal had before illness claimed her.
Tossing the lipstick and mascara into her makeup clutch on the shiny, white-tiled sink, she took a deep breath before making her way to elevator just outside her room.
Her legs flooded with weakness as she stepped inside. When the doors swished apart some minutes later to find he was already waiting, she half-sagged against the mirrored wall behind her.
So tall and magnetic, he was positively arresting in his superbly cut suit the same hue as his midnight, short cropped hair. He stalked forward, and she raised her chin, meeting him in the foyer with a poise that would have done any actress proud.
His silver eyes held hers. “You came.”
“You thought I wouldn’t?”
He smiled, catching hold of the crook of her arm. A frisson of awareness, of anticipation, caught her unawares, but she regained control as he drew her toward the hotel’s ornate glass doors, which slid open as they approached.
“I had to consider it a possibility.”
Her stiletto heels clacked across the stone pavement leading away from the building. She glanced up. “But?”
“I believed you wouldn’t deny your destiny.”
A shiver tingled from her spine to her toes. “You say that based on what exactly?”
They stilled beside the wide asphalt road. His eyes, cold now but capable of such passion, glittered beneath a bright street lamp. He gave a careless shrug. “Instinct…sixth sense…a hunch.” He smirked. “Call it what you will.”
She glared at him. Neatly sidestepping an answer was her forte!
A black stretch limousine pulled up to the curb. A chauffeur jumped out and opened the back door with a flourish.
She ignored the driver. All her attention centered on the man who watched her so closely. “Who are you?”
He raised a black brow. “You ask me that now?”
Heiress Loretta Shaw is notorious for her loose morals and sexual needs. Trouble is, it's taken her one too many one-night stands to realize that no man can extinguish the sexual fire she feels toward her guardian, Cray Diamond.
A long-ago curse made Cray immortal - a gargoyle, a guardian, who is impelled to protect a human chosen by the curse. He is imprisoned in stone during daylight hours but dusk returns him to flesh and bone to carry out his immortal duty.
That Cray can shift between human and living gargoyle at night bothers Loretta not one bit. She's seen him naked many times and her desire for him - in any shape or form - knows no bounds. She's tired of his resistance. He's her gargoyle...and she wants him in her bed.
Adult Excerpt: (c) Mel Teshco copyright material.
“Go away,” she mumbled, even as her eyes devoured all six feet five inches of him as he stood taut and moody at the end of the four-poster bed.
She shivered, less with unease and more with longing, though one could be forgiven for feeling the former. His black, military-style cropped hair and the scar running straight from the bridge of his nose to the hairline of his wide brow added to his sinister aura.
“Why, am I interrupting something?” His frosty, gray-blue eyes swept the scene and it was pure reflex when she touched her swollen mouth before curling a hand around her mussed hair. His eyes darkened. “Because from where I’m standing, your latest lover is out for the count.”
She dropped her hand and sat up. The bedcovers tumbled to her waist, revealing the globes of her breasts, her nipples, which hardened under his gaze. “It was a big night.” And not in the way you think. She managed a shrug. “He’s recovering.” She swung her legs to one side of the bed. Turning her back on him, she asked dryly,
“Are you jealous?”
Feigning indifference to the simmering quiet, she rose and padded across the soft beige carpet. She stooped, retrieving her discarded clothes strewn in a trail from the bedroom door.
Cray would imagine the worst. Who wouldn’t when it looked as if her clothes had been all but torn from her in a fit of passion? It might have started off that way, but ardor—at least on her behalf—had quickly dulled.
She wanted her gargoyle, or no man at all.
She felt the burn of his eyes scorch the air, spiking her nipples harder still. Her pussy contracted as the whole of her body reacted to his predatory hunger. Yet even in her high state of arousal her mind whirred with a far different kind of longing as she awaited his reply.
Dear God, did nothing get under his skin?
She tugged on her black lace thong, chilled by his shot of mirthless laughter and then as quickly burning hot when he closed the distance with just a stride. She dragged in a breath when his arms encircled her from behind. His large hands cradled her aching, heavy breasts while his fingers skillfully stroked her sensitive nipples.
“Should I be jealous?” he asked.
Despite her best intentions, she reveled in his touch. She caught her breath as waves of sensation melted her against him like a long-lost piece of a puzzle. “You tell me.”
Wry amusement overlaid a hardness she’d yet to crack as he said, “We could dance around a straight answer for hours but I don’t have the luxury of time to play mind games.”
His erection nudged the small of her back, indicating what game he’d really like time for if he’d just once forget his guardian role and relent to their attraction.
She wriggled, brushing against the impressive length of his cock and losing herself in his unyielding strength as she tucked her head beneath one of his arms.
“Don’t you ever just let yourself go, enjoy the moment?” She hated the breathlessness in her voice, hated how he could be physically aroused but emotionally unaffected.
He stiffened. “Nice sentiments. But I’m never intimate with the one I protect. You know that.”
She jerked free. Thrusting her head and arms through the floaty folds of her crimson designer dress, she pivoted to face him. “I never asked for your protection.”
“No one ever does.”
If she’d been anyone else, she’d have shrunk back from the latent coldness in his stare. But she wasn’t anyone else and she’d known nothing but sacrifice from this man…this gargoyle.
Cray dropped into a crouch and grabbed her high-heeled shoes from beneath the bed. He motioned her over and this time she knew better than to argue. She’d pushed him far enough.
His hands cradled first one foot then the other as he slipped on her shoes. Diamonds winked along the straps crisscrossing her toes. Her eyes fluttered closed as flames licked from the soles of her feet and leapt straight to her already burning core.
“Such a thankless job.” She cleared her throat and opened her eyes to his downturned head, almost giving in to the need to run her hands over his spiky hair.
“Don’t you ever wish for something in return?”
With one fluid motion, he stood, making Loretta glad she wore stilettos. At five-foot-three, she barely reached his chest but heels brought her eyes to his chin level. She tore her gaze away from his sexy lips and studied his unnerving face.
Stone cold really was an apt description for his unyielding expression. She should know. She’d tried for nearly three years now to bring his impervious emotions to heel.
A large hand snared the crook of her elbow before he escorted her toward the balcony’s locked, sliding door. With a faint chink, it yielded to his force and slid open in a whisper of sound.
“I wish for many things,” he growled, guiding her out onto the small platform nestled high atop the eighteen-story apartment block. “But wishes and dreams are wasted on a gargoyle.”
I don’t believe so.
She twisted to face him. Tilting back her head, she watched the intensity on his face as he blocked his human awareness and focused his highly developed, gargoyle senses. His nostrils flared as he scented the air, his large frame taut and still while he took in the sounds of the night.
With eyes that glowed feral and bright as ice chips, he swept the area, double-checking for insomniacs and early risers—for anyone who might potentially witness his change and their unconventional exit.
Apparently satisfied at their privacy, he shrugged off his black, ankle-length coat and draped it over her shoulders. She tugged the folds around her in a gesture of long practice, surreptitiously inhaling his brandy-and-spice scent.
And not for the first time was she aware of just how safe she felt, enfolded in his jacket, cocooned from all that was bad in the world.
Lights dotted the cityscape of Sydney, a faint awareness of dawn in the air when Cray shifted from human into a winged creature of the night and folded her into his arms.
The change was effortless. If Loretta hadn’t known about his ability—his curse—she’d hardly have noticed the slight hunching of his shoulders, or the broadening of his body as bat-like, eight-foot-span wings sprouted from either side of his spine as he gripped her tightly. Only the wrench and give of his clothes, which fell to the floor in tattered wisps, betrayed his true shift of identity.
Shame it was dark, she’d have appreciated the sight of his masculine charms in the flesh. Even etched in stone, she’d not been disappointed.
Unlike the ugly and inanimate carved gargoyles that littered many gardens and lawns, Cray retained much of his human looks.
Oh, she knew he didn’t see anything remotely handsome in his gargoyle form but he was so wrong. From the large and rather fine-boned sweep of his wings, to his more subtle physical modifications, he was fascinating.
The remnants of his shirt and pants fluttered over the balcony and she twined her fingers behind his neck when he climbed the railing and stretched his webbed wings with a barely audible swish.
Her heart thumped, her senses in overdrive as she went giddy with anticipation for the buzz to come.
Cray leapt high. Her belly dropped as adrenaline skyrocketed, the ground a blur of lights beneath them as the winter air whipped her long gold-brown hair into her eyes and bit into her skin.
He wrapped her close to his chest, pressing the coat fully closed to deflect the worst of the cold, and Loretta wondered what it would feel like to have him really care about her.
She fought back a sudden, weary sigh. He was honor-bound to ensure her well-being. She was his top priority, but only as her guardian, nothing else. Besides, if he did care, he would’ve retrieved her long before she fell into yet another stranger’s bed.
Her grip tightened. She was a fool to wish he saw her as anything more than a spoiled heiress.
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