I’m tickled to have Elf Ahearn here today!
Do you use a pen name/pseudo name? If so, why. If not, why did you decide to write under your own name?
Elf Ahearn is my real name – you can’t make something like that up. The story goes that my mother’s doctor put her on a derivative of speed when she was pregnant so she wouldn’t gain too much weight. The result was, she gained weight but I didn’t. Because I was so tiny, my parents called me their little Elfie.
I love your name!
Can you tell us how long have you been writing?
My best friend Georgette Pilatos and I authored a series of books about Francis the Talking Mule when we were in grammar school. Most of our collaboration took place during recess. Georgette could really draw horses, so she handled the illustrations. I wrote the text, but since I’m dyslexic, the spelling was so bad the story line is unintelligible. Needless to say, Hollywood never picked it up.
I wrote dynamite letters to my sister in Germany. Long ones full of quips about the life I was leading in NYC as an actress. She told me she couldn’t drink milk while reading my letters because she’d laugh and it would come out her nose.
From milk spewing, I graduated to journalism. I wrote for some small town newspapers for 13 years, and then quit to marry the man of my dreams. We moved to New York State and I plunged into corporate communications. I loved that job, but the recession didn’t love me. When I got laid off I had to do something other than twiddle my thumbs and hope someone would respond to the 300th resume I sent out. No one ever did, but Crimson Romance bought my first book, A Rogue in Sheep’s Clothing.
I’ve read A Rogue in Sheep’s Clothing and loved it!
What’s one thing you absolutely can’t tolerate during your writing? One thing you can’t write without?
Some of my fellow authors have play lists of music they listen to while writing. Others need the television or a radio on while they compose. Me, I need absolute silence.
Waving my hand here. Me too!
Tell us one unusual, weird, or curious fact you discovered while researching this book.
While the battle of Algeciras was neither weird nor curious, it was a fascinating bit of history and it plays a hefty role in my hero, Lord Monroe’s background. The battle took place in 1801 in Spain’s Algeciras Bay at a time when the British were fighting France and Spain for control of the Mediterranean shipping lanes. The Brits tried to cripple a cadre of French ships in the bay and got trounced for their efforts. I put my hero into the water near the HMS Hannibal, which took such heavy fire it surrendered.
My poor Hs/Hs—I put them through the ringer in every book.
Tell us something unusual, quirky, or odd about yourself.
My name is really Elf–quirky enough, ‘eh?
Okay, now for the quickie questions: Answer in three words or less. Ready? Go!
Favorite Disney Character? Thomasina the cat.
Favorite Fruit? Watermelon
Favorite Hero?
Favorite Eye Color? Pale blue – the hubby’s got ‘em.
Best Vacation Destination? Nantucket Island
Food you can’t stand? Any kind of seafood. Ironic that Nantucket is my fav vaca spot, eh?
What annoys you? Snobbery
Coffee, tea, or something else? Tea, always tea.
Nightgown or Jammies? Only jammies
Prefer dogs or cats? Love ‘em both, but cats stir my heart (and then they sit on it).
Elf Ahearn, yes, that is her real name, lives in New York with her wonderful husband and a pesky (yet irresistible) cat. She came to romance late in life because she had to meet the right man before any of that love stuff made sense to her. Before meeting the man of her dreams, Elf was a journalist, a corporate communications specialist, an actor, an insurance underwriter (which amuses her friends because she can’t add two numbers together to save her life), and a Lithuanian vampiress. (Not really but if you’re still reading I wanted to give you a thrill.)
T
Two years of bewildering silence have passed since Claire Albright met powerful, brooding, Lord Flavian Monroe. On the brink of her debut he suddenly summons her. Can her knowledge of healing stop his ward from hoarding? Embroiled in a desperate attempt to curb the child’s madness, Claire cannot understand Flavian’s burning kisses yet cold demeanor. Will she reach his heart before his ward’s insanity undoes her chance at love?
When he was fourteen, Flavian made a mistake so devastating it ruined all hope for happiness. Years later, he’s still paying for his sin. But before his ward’s troubled mind destroys his home and family, he must see Claire once more. Vowing to keep their relationship professional—she the healer, he the guardian—he finds the bonds of his resolve snapping. Somehow, he must content himself with memories of her . . . but he cannot
resist . . . one final embrace . . .
Enjoy an excerpt from Lord Monroe’s Dark Tower
On the verge of lowering her to the ground, she put both hands to his shoulders and pushed. “Flavian, wait.”
Her cool fingers went to each side of his face, and her gaze
burrowed into the furthest recesses of his mind. He felt the question in her body, the
beseeching touch of her fingertips: ‘I am the lamb, you, the lion. What will you do with
me?’
He understood the question, but couldn’t bring himself to answer. Valencia’s eyes,
like black bottomless pools, flickered in his thoughts. So many years ago, he’d asked that
same question of her. Being a lion, she consumed him. And then, when she so
desperately needed his help, he’d been powerless . . . worse, he’d been reluctant. He
stepped out of Claire’s grasp. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Fire leapt in her eyes. “Not thinking?” She ran several paces away. Pointing at him, she cried, “You make a mockery of my heart. One moment your lips burn against mine, the next, you ignore me.”
“I . . . I’m sorry.”
Doubled over with frustration, she yanked on the skirts of her dress. “I don’t want
your apology. I want your love.”
“You have it.” Before he could retract the words, they hovered in the air between
them. All went still. Even the birds ceased their song.
Claire clutched her heart. “Why would you say that?”
“I love you.” He stepped toward her, though his chest ached and his throat went dry.
“God help you, but I love you.” At her feet he dropped to his knees, hat in hand. “I love you.”
Thanks again, Elf for joining me here today!
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