I just saw your MySpace -- what's this about an urban fantasy/paranormal series?! I thought you were doing contemporaries as Annie Dean and Sci-Fi as Ann Aguirre?

I answered via email, and then it occurred to me that other readers might be curious as well. So here's the scoop.

I write hot, quirky contemps as Annie Dean. They may include paranormal elements like the novella I have coming out in a Liquid Silver anthology alongside Dionne Galace and Bonnie Dee. But these books will be more sexually explicit, and the love story is pretty much the whole impetus of the plot.

As Ann Aguirre, I write dark, edgy stories. They might have sex / sexual content, but it won't be graphic, and the gettin' down scene count won't be as high. These titles focus on action and ass-kicking. The relationship arc will still be present, but it won't comprise the whole book.

Like I've said before, I stomp all over genre boundaries, especially in my Ann Aguirre titles. The Touch series is another idea that defies easy pigeonholing. I'd call it urban fantasy myself, but my agent intends to shop it as paranormal mystery. That's cool; it has some elements in common with Charlaine Harris's Grave series.

My series features a cool heroine with a limited power, doing the best she can not to be killed by all the Very Bad Things out there. And there are three possible love interests -- the romance arc will develop slowly (but as always) by the end of book six, I will deliver a happy ending. I also intend to listen to reader feedback and see which hero readers like best. Talk about revolutionary!

Anyway, here's some more information.

Corine Solomon isn't looking for adventure. She's happy with her junky little pawnshop, happy living as an expat where nobody knows who she is or what she can do. Nobody brings her soiled mittens from missing children or tiny earrings from dead babies anymore. She wants to forget the gift she never asked for and to stop thinking about the terrible night that changed her life forever. But things never go the way she wants them to and she can't escape the man with the devil's own luck. Chance doesn't intend to let her go, and what's more, he needs her for the first time in his life. If they can survive, things just might be different this time...

The first chapter is available here. Proposed titles follow:

GOOD TOUCH
TOUCH AND GO
DON'T TOUCH
THE MIDAS TOUCH
TOUCH WOOD
KEEP IN TOUCH

Possible heroes:

Chance
Corine's ex. He's half-Korean, half-who knows? His mother isn't talking, but he has the devil's own luck. When he turns his gift to a situation, he can nearly always swing it in his favor. Coincidences become astonishingly fortuitous. He's slim and well-groomed, urbane: think Russell Wong. He's always been completely cool and in control, but after Corine left him, that facade started to crack. Who knows what passions lurk beneath his smooth exterior?

Jesse
Latino cowboy type. He's a cop, and oh, did I mention he's long, tall and gorgeous? Deep amber brown eyes, tan skin, sun-streaked hair. He's also an empath, so he knows what a woman wants.

There's also a darkhorse that I won't talk about here. Sound like fun? But don't worry; this series doesn't suffer from a lack of strong female secondary characters, and every male Corine meets doesn't immediately want to shag her. Here's a little excerpt to seal the deal.

Maybe it was cruel, but as my final act in preparing for bed, I touched up the frangipani on my throat.

I found him sitting on the edge of my bed, wearing striped boxers, a white t-shirt, and yes, his socks. The sight made me smile, though not as much as seeing him in my boudoir. What a wonderful word. My room definitely rose to the challenge, done in rose, lavender, and handmade lace. It bordered on brothel burlesque, especially with the balcony overlooking the street where I might show my bosoms to prospective clients.

"All set?"

Nodding, I threw some clothes in a bag while fighting off the memory of other occasions where I'd done exactly that. Chance told me we were leaving and I began to pack, no questions asked. Right up until the last, I would have followed him through fire. In the end, I did that too -- and that was why I had to leave him.

Is that love? It seems like a pale word, too easily tossed about by people who don't know the meaning of it, who twist it for their own ends. I'm afraid of it now, right up there with clowns, close spaces and open flames. On our second date, I had a panic attack when Chance ordered Cherries Jubilee. After that, I felt sure I'd never see him again.

Shows what I know.

As I came around the bed, he shivered visibly. Oh, I knew he was scent-sensitive. More than most people, an aroma carries him back in time, makes him relive the associated memories, feel the emotion of that moment. The way it affects him, I'd call it a weakness, but how could I pass up the opportunity to torment him a little? How heady that I still have the power; I wouldn't have guessed that he was the steadfast sort.

I mean, just look at him. I noticed the glances we attracted when we were together. Someone generous would call me an endomorph, but I'm well-aware I'm round and squat, not sleek and long-limbed like Chance. If I try to wear crop pants, I grow cankles, and there's always a bit of kitsch about me, no matter how hard I try.

In the last year and a half, I gave up on elegance and worked on developing my own style. It generally involves flowered hats, gypsy skirts that show off my rather cute feet and peasant blouses. Luckily these things are readily available here.

He inhaled deeply as I got in bed, his eyes fixed on the decolletage of my undeniably demure gown. Swear I felt the heat of his look tracing the satin trim along my breasts. "You grew a mean streak, Corine."

I recognized his tone. The perfume had been a bad idea, because we were both remembering the last time we'd been together. Christ, the sex was good that night. Looking at his mouth, I began to forget all the reasons why I shouldn't get naked and roll around with him. Determined not to give in, I lay down and pulled the sheet up to my chin.

As if he knew, Chance touched my hair where it spread on the pillow beside him. "Red looks good on you."

"Thanks."

I'd never been a redhead while we were together, and for him, my changing hair acted as a quiet kink. He said it was like making love to a different woman every time. And why was I thinking about that now? Rolling onto my side, I killed the lamp and the room gained the soft luminance of distant streetlights. City noises came to us, cars and too-loud conversation.

"Giving me your back?"

"I'm not giving you anything," I said, glancing over my shoulder. Mistake. In the half light, he looked as sad as I've ever seen him.

"Not anymore," he agreed softly.

"Christ. What do you want from me?"

Propped up against the headboard, he smiled then and I saw the silver glimmer of his coin, rolling along his knuckles. "Only what I always wanted. Everything."

Ideally, I'll be writing two series simultaneously. At least, that's the plan. Good thing I'm fast, right? I hope that cleared things up about what I write, as whom, and what's coming down the pike.

PS - the first book has zombies in it. What more could you ask, really?

Labels: QnA