Today I have Cecilia Robert on my blog, she is the author of Truly, Madly, Deeply You. I have this fresh on my kindle and I plan to snuggle up and read it tonight!
Cecilia, Tell us about yourself:
Hi Tamaria, Thanks for having me on your blog.
I’m a 36 year old assistant nurse and mother to two wonderful, albeit energetic children. I’m live in Vienna. When I’m not working, I’m writing, performing house-ly and motherly duties. And when I really want to relax, I cuddle with a book, watch tv or knit/crochet. I’ve found the latter to be wonderful stress reliever.
Do you prefer
Milk chocolate or Dark?
I love milk cholocate with an extra dash of nuts.
Coffee or tea?
A full mug of tea with milk.
Vodka or tequila?
Neither. I rarely drink.
Romance or a Thriller?
A little bit of both. Makes it an exhilarating experience.
Mystery or Horror?
Did you always want to be an author?
Not really. When I started out, I used to write stories for my sister, and she loved them. After a while I got distracted and stopped. Then picked writing at first as a hobby, then decided to work seriously on the stories.
What authors had an impact on you growing up and as an adult?
I am an eclectic reader. In my pre-teen and teen years, I read a lot of Famous Five by Enid Blyton, lots of Nancy Drews, Mills & Boons and Harlequins. As an adult, my influences are Cassandra Clare, Nalini Singh, Dean Koontz, Judith McNaught, Karen Marie Moning.
Did anyone in your life influence you or encouraged you to be a writer? (teacher, family member, friend)
My sister did. In my pre-teen years I had a funny habit. After reading a book, I’d begin writing my own story with different characters, and of course there was a happy ever after. She was my cheerleader and encouraged me, and always pushing me to write so she could read them.
What is your writing atmosphere like?
It depends on what time of day I’m doing my writing. Usually I grab whatever little time there is. I write while the TV is running, kids yelling, or in the middle of the night when everyone has gone to bed. All in all, I have adjusted my mind to write even when chaos rage around me. That’s the only way I can achieve anything, really.
What is your favorite aspect or writing? Your Least Favorite?
My favourite aspect is the first time when I’m outlining a story, and many different ideas flow through my mind, the possibilities of how many directions the story can take.
Oh the least favourite: Writer’s block
Your current book your promoting is:
I’m promoting Truly, Madly, Deeply, You. It’s more character oriented than plot. The story is about two people, two best friends who have known one another since they were kids. One is going through a difficult time in her life, while the other is hopelessly in love with his friend and will do anything to take away her pain. It’s a ‘Friends to lovers’ story, as well as second chance at love.
How did you come up with the your story line?
I was inspired by a couple who I visited in their home during my home visits – I work as an assistant nurse. The man was 93 years and his wife 88, and while I sat there listening to them, telling me how they were best friends even before they got married, my mind wandered and began weaving a story: a friends to lovers story. Only in mine, the male harbors feelings for his female friend, but she has no idea how he feels.
How do you choose your characters names?
At times finding names for my characters is a challenge on its own. Sometimes the names just flash in my mind like neon signs, or I research the names and meanings from the internet. Sometimes I jumble up letters until I come up with a name that rings true to my characters. Even at times I get name ideas from people’s mailboxes, especially the surnames.
Four days before Valentine’s Day, Liese Hansfeld is determined to shut the door to her house, as well as her heart, for her annual four days of mourning her one true love. Little does she know her best friend Freytag Meier is just as determined to keep her from her ritual. He’s ready to pick the lock to her apartment door and camp in her living room if that’s what it takes.
What Freytag isn’t prepared for is the surge of deep-rooted emotions he feels for Liese, but two things stand in his way: the grief and guilt she still clutches close to her heart, and a man who threatens to snatch Liese from under Frey’s watchful eye. Frey is determined to distract her into forgetting her pain. But is that enough to ease her grief, or help her see he can be more than her best friend?
“You all right, Li?”
She nodded as her eyes swept the room, then back at him. “Really, Frey, you didn’t have to do all that. I was going to clean after the four days.”
He shrugged. “No worries, sweetheart. What are friends for?” He smiled and beckoned her to him with his free hand. She followed the delicious smell of food more than she obeyed him, and stood beside him. He smiled at her, and pulled her into one arm hug and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Feeling better?”
She nodded, peeking inside the pot. “Yes, I am,” she said, hoping her voice came out cheerful. She didn’t want to have him worried. “Smells good. What’s this?”
“Healthy food.” He turned his attention to the pot of whatever delicious concoction he was cooking and continued stirring.
Liese glanced around for something to do while he went about preparing the meal. She frowned, as her gaze zeroed in on the sofa.
“Er, Frey, what’s that?”
He glanced up from the pot, and followed her pointing finger. “Oh, that. My overnight bag,” he said nonchalantly. “Didn’t I tell you I’m staying here for those four days? No? Well, I am.” He turned, unconcerned, and continued stirring, dipped two fingers inside the array of bottles of spices in front of him, pinched small amounts and sprinkled dashes into the pot. He repeated the action a few more times before he grunted in satisfaction.
She glared at his back, watching the rise and fall of the muscles there. “No, you’re not.” She glanced up, then poked his arm with her finger to make her point. “You can’t do this to me, Frey. Another time, but not these four precious days. I need to be alone.”
Frey tilted his head slightly, his midnight blue eyes gentle and kind as they’d always been. “Sorry, I’m not leaving. Get used to the idea, Li. Besides, I have five votes from your mom and dad. We voted who should come over and stay with you. I won.” He grinned, and turned away to stir what she now saw was red sauce. The scent of mint filled the air, and her stomach grumbled.
She ignored it and twisted out from under his arm. He snatched her back and held her snug and tight against the length of his body. She leaned into his soothing touch, savouring the comfort of his fingers as they caressed up and down her arm. Her body began to relax. “If I needed you, I’d have called you and asked—”
“Eat, and then if you want to talk later, we’ll talk.” Frey pecked her on the forehead once again, then brought his hand to her face and tucked a few strands of her wayward curls behind her ear. He let her go. “Now sit over there like a good girl.”
She grunted in frustration and stalked away, well, as much as her weakened body would allow her to stalk without losing her pride. She plopped down on the sofa. “You’re no better than my parents.”
He chuckled. “You bet I’m not. I’m worse.”