Jasmine was born in Australia and grew up in Sydney. She currently lives in Madrid, Spain with her husband. She adores reading all genres but in particular she enjoys erotic romance novels and thrillers. Jasmine loves writing and is always looking for new ideas for stories that will provoke inner passions, stimulate the senses and ignite the imagination. Her interests include cooking, traveling, yoga and skiing.
She has won some short story competitions and is now excited to have started publishing her erotic romance stories through Totally Bound Publishing.
Why did you decide to write romance novels?
I love reading romance novels and I enjoy writing so to me, it made sense that I try my hand at writing my own novel.
How much of your personality and life experiences are in your writing?
Quite a lot of me can be found in the pages of my books. I'm a big believer in writing what I'm familiar with (including story settings). Readers will quickly identify whether or not an author is not acquainted with a particular place or activity.
What kind of research do you do for a book?
I like to write about what I know or, at least be able to access the information I need. the internet is very handy to substantiate facts (particularly for historicals) although I'm careful with what resources I use on the internet (not all sites can be relied on for veracity). For my latest book I asked my husband and mother in law many questions regarding the outback lifestyle and life on a sheep station.
What is your writing routine once you start a book?
I like to write at least 3 - 4000 words a day, usually in the morning. Sometimes I manage more, sometimes it's less but that's the goal I work towards, depending on the expected book length.
What do you do to relax and recharge your batteries?
Often I read and I find that a daily exercise regime helps to clear out the cobwebs. Most often I do something unrelated to the book I'm writing so I can take a break and gain some fresh perspective.
Who are some of your favorite authors to read?
My all time favorite author has to be Jane Austen. I can read her books over and over again. I also enjoy Sylvia Day and more recently I've been reading Deborah Bladon.
Tell us about your latest book. What motivated the story? Where did the idea come from?
My latest book, Lillian's Light Horseman, is an historical erotic romance set in the Australian outback in 1921.It’s a story about star-crossed childhood sweethearts who re-unite after ten years — with interesting consequences. My husband grew up on a sheep station in Western NSW. The property was settled on his grandfather by the Australian Government for his services as an Australian Light Horseman in WWI. The novel is VERY loosely based around him. There are some family stories involving a love triangle, a governess and a broken heart.
Lillian's Light Horseman
Erotic Romance
Totally Bound Publishing
The year is 1921, Lillian Hamilton at twenty-six, is alone, desperate and living in England. An ocean away in outback Australia, her childhood sweetheart and decorated Light Horseman, William Cartwright, is running a sheep station and nursing a deep betrayal while the local ladies vie for his attention. But Lillian and William’s paths are about to cross once again, unexpectedly and dynamically, spinning each of them into turmoil, igniting past hurts and spurring them to a wary truce.
As they work through their deep-seated issues of distrust, others are conspiring against them, until a shocking revelation sends Lillian running out of the safety of William’s arms and into the path of another man. William will have to work against time to find Lillian before he loses her forever.
Are the span of an ocean, ten years and a cruel deception, too much for love to overcome?
EXCERPT
She’d forgotten the desolation of the Australian outback—how dusty and dry it was and how unbearably hot it could be. She was lucky that she’d arrived in winter but the days in the outback, even in winter, could still be warm. She knew that her clothes would be impractical for the environment but there was not a lot she could do about that. Her wardrobe was designed for English weather and she knew that as the days grew warmer, her dresses and skirts of durable, heavy European fabric would be oppressively uncomfortable.
They drew nearer to Mulga Creek Sheep Station and her nervousness increased, making her palms damp and clammy. She’d spent the past ten years trying to forget about William and her memories of their time together, first as childhood friends then as childhood sweethearts, only now to put herself into a position where those bittersweet memories would be thrust to the forefront of her consciousness. She wondered where William was living and whether he bore any resemblance to the young man of nineteen he had been when last she’d seen him.
The buggy rounded a bend in the road and the homestead finally came into view. The house was newly painted white and glowed welcomingly in the midday sun. A garden fronting the residence was filled with hardy, durable flowers and plants—the only type to survive in such a dry and unforgiving climate. Geraniums and wattle bordered a pathway that led to the front door and an extensive vegetable garden took up the right side of the house adjacent to the kitchen.
The sight of the homestead and the sudden pang of déjà vu that it brought with it took Lillian’s breath away, and all too soon they were pulling up in the long drive and the station hand was unloading her belongings.
“I’ll take your trunk inside, miss. Mrs. Thompson has gone into Bourke to run errands. She asked that you wait in the drawing room for the boss. I’ll let him know that you’re here.”
Lillian’s anxiety deepened. She’d expected that Mrs. Thompson would be at the homestead to greet her and had hoped that she’d be present to ease any awkwardness that might arise when James Cartwright discovered her identity.
Lillian followed the station hand into the house and stopped in the hall to assess her reflection in the mirror. The image that greeted her made her gasp in shock. Her hair, which she’d styled so carefully that morning, was coming loose from its chignon and fell in dusty ringlets around her shoulders. And her face, usually of a peaches and cream complexion, was caked in a fine layer of red outback dust. She stepped back and surveyed her travelling attire, unsurprised to find that her skirt and jacket were creased and covered in fine ocher-colored powder. She’d forgotten how quickly the outback dirt permeated everything—even her mouth was gritty with the stuff.
She couldn’t meet James Cartwright looking like she did. She needed to freshen up. Making a decision, she left the hall and went in search of someone to assist her. Finding a maid in the kitchen, she requested a basin of water and a cloth and quickly scrubbed her face and hands. She scraped her hair back and re-pinned the escaped tendrils as best she could. There was nothing much she could do with her attire, so she settled for patting herself all over liberally with the damp cloth. It would have to do. One more inspection of her reflection in the hall mirror confirmed that she looked moderately better.
