She is an award-nominated
author of erotic romance. Her work is published by Ellora's Cave, Red Sage and
Loose Id in addition to her own publishing company, Ai Press, established in
2010 and boasting a collection of some of the erotic romance genres favorite
authors. Her murder mystery, His
Beautiful Samurai, has been used in a college course in gay and lesbian
literature and is in the process of discussion for film option. She hopes you
will visit her on the web at www.sedoniaguillone.com and www.ai-press.net.
Welcome onboard Sedonia
Guillone!
About
your education
Sedonia: i hold a degree
in Political Science and French Language. I have also studied sacred music in
Jerusalem and done graduate work in French Language and Linguistics.
What
career did you plan during your education days
Sedonia: I thought i was
going to go to law school. But one day I visited a law office to discuss that
path and picked up one of the law books. I glanced at one paragraph and my eyes
glazed over. I realized that if I went to law school, I would have to read
books like that night and day as well as during my career and realized I
absolutely would not survive.
What
languages you can speak and write?
Sedonia: English
and French mainly, with a smattering of Russian and Hebrew.
What is
your biggest source of inspiration in life.
Sedonia: My
biggest source of inspiration is the man in my life. He taught me what it
really means to love and be loved and has made me want to be the best possible
person I can be. I dedicate all my books to him.
What
hurts you most in this world.
Sedonia: What hurts
me most in this world is the way people are cruel to each other and to animals.
I find that i can forgive people things because we are human, except the abuse
of animals and children. That is beyond unbearable.
What is
the biggest challenge you have faced? How did you overcome it?
Sedonia: The biggest challenge I have faced are the inner
obstacles of my own mind and heart. Overcoming those obstacles is an ongoing
process but it has become possible with the help of my teacher who taught me to
meditate and become a more sensitive person to my own suffering and to the
suffering of others. Sensitivity naturally leads to a dropping away of
blockages because one cannot feel one's own suffering and that of other beings
without wanting to end that suffering.
If you
had to live a day of your life as one of the living or dead personality, who
would it be and why?
Sedonia: If I
had one day of my life to be someone else, i would wish to spend that day as
Sri Bagavan Ramana Maharshi because i want to know what it feels like to
experience the degree of Self realization that he had. If i did, then i would
have the deepest comparison of awakeness to the lack of awareness with which i
live my daily life and i believe it would deepen my direction toward living a
life of harmlessness.
What is
your favorite genre and why?
Sedonia: My
favorite genre to read for enjoyment is murder mysteries. My favorite genre to
write in is yaoi style romance because it gives me a chance to express the kind
of character driven angst that allows me to channel what is going on inside me.
When
did you start writing? What is
the purpose of your writing?
Sedonia: I started writing seriously about 13 years ago. The
purpose of my work is severalfold. First, I write simply because I can't NOT
write. There is no other way to say it than that. If I go too long without
letting the creativity flow out, I grow unhappy. Second, I write in order to
make a living. Third, I hope that my writing achieves the purpose of being
enjoyable and uplifting for readers. I try to incorporate the things I have
learned in my life into my stories in order to bring them to a bit higher level
than simply an erotic romance written just to tease the senses.
Which
of your work has been published so far?
Sedonia:
I have many novels, novellas and short stories published since about
2005. Please come and visit my home on the web for titles, excerpts and
my blog which I do my best to keep updated with cool stuff. www.sedoniaguillone.com
Would
you like to share a synopsis of your work?
Sedonia:
Yes, please! I would like to share a snippet from one of my personal favorites
and the first murder mystery I ever wrote, His Beautiful Samurai. Which, also,
I’m proud to say was used in a college course of gay and lesbian literature a
few years ago and is currently being considered for a motion picture option.
Thank you! Here goes:
Sex and murder don’t mix
but Detective Toshiro Genjin and psychic John Holmes do…
John Holmes comes to
Tokyo to help stop a killer. Through the use of his psychic abilities, he can
help find out things that no one else sees. Toshi is a policeman who
reluctantly accepts John's help, but from their first touch, John knows he
wants more than that. He wants all Toshi can give him, and the heat between
them surprises, and delights him.
The modern killer, a
historical murder of two samurai, and Toshi's need to honor other commitments
combine to make the blooming love between John and Toshi difficult. And
dangerous. The more deeply they delve into the past, the more unsure the future
looks. Could the heat between them be the only thing that can solve the
mystery, despite all of the difficulties that stand in their way? Can they find
a way to keep what is most precious to them? Haunting and powerful, His
Beautiful Samurai is a murder mystery, a romance, and a study in the
supernatural. Get your hands on it today!
Excerpt:
Chapter
One
Tokyo,
Japan, Present day
Toshi stared down at the
fresh corpses. Around him, the flashbulbs of the crime scene photographers went
off like tiny fireworks.Shimatta! He’d failed again and now stood,
helpless, staring at the victims’ grisly fate.
His hands already
encased in latex gloves, he pressed his palms together, steepled in front of
him, and bowed his respect to the dead. As did his partner, Natsuka Yamamoto,
beside him.
The victims of this
third killing in nearly six months, their naked, stiffening bodies still
intertwined, had been skewered. The weapon, as with the other victims, a samurai’s katana,
long sword.
His stomach churned, as
it never failed to do when he found the Ronin Killer’s victims.
Natsuka delicately
covered the victims with a white cloth then approached Toshi, shaking his head
sadly. The katana tented the cloth in the most macabre way. “You ready for
them to go?”
Toshi sighed. Forensics
had already done the preliminary, time and cause of death. As if they didn’t
already know the cause. His hand went into the inner pocket of his jacket,
rummaging for the cigarettes he’d made the mistake of trying to quit the week before.
Then stopped. No smoking on a crime scene. He’d have to wait. “Go ahead,” he
murmured to his partner. Natsuka nodded and went to give the order.
With his mind ticking
off the ways he’d failed to prevent yet another killing, Toshi surveyed the
room while the Identification Division people finished up. He began to look
around. Though he wasn’t sure why. Not one crime scene had turned up any useful
leads. All they had so far in all this time was that the form of the murders
was identical and that the victims were either married people having an illicit
affair or a couple together whose relationship was rocky.
Natsuka had a theory
that the killer’s motive was at least in part a sick desire to keep them
together. As good a motive as any. But that still didn’t explain the fact that
each time they got a trace on a suspect, that same suspect ended up dead two
days later back in their own home, dead from a fatal coronary and the word
“Naomasa” carved into the deceased’s forehead. Autopsies showed that the wounds
were self-inflicted moments before death. Men and women, both in service jobs,
both solitary types. Profiling had gotten them that far. And only that far.
Where were they getting the damned swords?
The murder weapons
turned out to be original swords smithed by one Koto Naomasa, one of the great
sword smiths of nineteenth century Japan. However, they’d been unable to trace
where the weapons were coming from, and the expert they’d questioned knew of only
one other original Naomasa in a private collection in the United States. They
seemed to be coming out of thin air. The case was nothing but dead ends,
literally and figuratively. There had to be a cult of some
kind they’d yet to find. Somewhere in the shadows, another Charles Manson was
sending out his brainwashed minions to kill.
Natsuka went to round up
the hotel staff and to have the manager contact off-duty employees to come in
for questioning.
As always, the room
yielded no clues. It seemed the killer did what he always did. Entered the
room, unnoticed by the lovers engaged in the act, speared them together then
turned around and left. There was nothing to do now except wait for forensic
reports and to speak with the staff.
Toshi watched the sheet-covered
stretcher being carried out of the room. He shook his head, fighting down a
wave of nausea. The sick feeling was as much from frustration as from horror.
How the hell was he supposed to prevent further murders if the killer continued
to slip through their fingers like sand on the beach? If he and Natsuka had
been the only ones working on this case, he might have understood the
difficulty of turning up leads, but a team of twenty men and women working
around the clock?
His cell phone rang.
Toshi pulled off a glove and retrieved the phone from his pocket. One glance at
the ID window showed the caller was his superior. He took a deep breath.
“Moshi moshi.
Keishi-san.”
“Keibu Genjin. Same
situation as always?” The superintendant spoke in his gravelly voice.
He exhaled. “Yes,
Keishi-san. I’m sorry.”
The chief’s irritation
radiated through the phone line. “Next Tuesday makes six months. We’re not
doing anything to promote the citizens’ faith in Tokyo’s police force.”
Toshi gritted his teeth
and raked a hand through his hair, badly in need of trimming. Hunting a serial
killer did not allow one time for such trivialities as personal grooming. Or
sleep. “This is not the first time a serial killer has eluded the police.” Jack
the Ripper and the Zodiac Killer were famous instances, of course, but there
were many others all over the world that often never made headlines for more
than a few days, never mind history. Long ago back at Berkley, Michael, who was
on the graduate track to profiling, had told him about many of them who’d
managed never to get caught. It was a terrible response, but the only one he
had in the moment. He, himself, lived in this area and had a vested interest in
keeping it safe. He’d often wondered how long it would be before a victim would
turn out to be one of his neighbors. “We won’t rest until we have results.”
Keishi Ito grunted. “You
and Yamamoto-san finish up there. Leave the other teams to finish the inquiries
and come in. I have something to tell you.”
Toshi sighed. “Yes, sir.”
He flipped his phone shut, dropped it into his jacket pocket, then pulled off
the other glove. With the crime scene now secured, he and Natsuka would have to
come back in and search the place again in the morning. Which was really only a
few hours away. Good thing there was a Starbucks right by the station. Green
tea just didn’t cut it at times like these.
Natsuka was at the
doorway of the room, looking at him. “Hayao and his partner are still speaking
to everyone currently in the hotel. So far, no one here has seen or heard
anything suspicious. I’m having a disc made of the security tapes now. They’ll
send them over as soon as they’re ready. Management is still looking for all
the off-duty employees.
They’ll have them here
in a couple of hours, they said.”
Toshi thanked him and
told him what the chief had said. Natsuka grumbled and clapped a friendly hand
on Toshi’s shoulder. “Come, I’ll run interference for you with the press.” The
press had been swarming around the entrance of each crime scene, ever since the RoninKiller
had begun his rampage through East Tokyo.
Toshi nodded. “Thanks,”
he murmured and went again for his cigarettes. He followed the older man down
the hall, into the elevator. His partner for the last four years had
become a good friend, more like the father and well-meaning older brother he’d
never had. His own father, a high-ranking diplomat, had always been stern and
distant, demanding perfection. Mazao Genjin hated that his son was a policeman.
Policing was a job for the son of blue collar men, as he had put it from his
place across the table at dinner so many years ago. Not for the son of a
diplomat and descendant of a samurai family. As if such social ranks still
applied to modern day society.
Unfortunately, he’d
still not shaken the effect of four years at Berkley in California. All that
personal freedom and…well…Michael, had gotten into his blood. He’d tried to
blame Michael for his complete inability to readjust all these years back in
Japan, for having fed his inner drive. But honestly, it was his own doing. Or,
rather his nature. Since he could remember, he’d suffered the soul-searing
hunger to find answers, to get to the truth and get dangerous sickos off the
street so they couldn’t hurt anyone else. In fact, were it not for his Uncle
Musashi, the one person in his life who encouraged him, he wasn’t so sure he
would ever have returned to Tokyo. He was beholden to his uncle, in spite of
Musashi’s protests to the contrary. Musashi needed him in a way he couldn’t
define, but which had had the power to drag him back from the States, and from
Michael.
So, here he was.
Halfway down to the
lobby, he realized his body had already begun to tense, bracing himself for
what the chief would have to say. It couldn’t be good.
* * * * *
Boston,
Massachusetts
“In other world news
tonight, in Tokyo, Japan, a serial killer has been terrorizing the eastern
portion of the city for the last six months.”
John reached out to
switch off the set, but something held him back.
“The Ronin Killer, has
been dubbed so by Tokyo Metropolitan Police because of the use of a samurai sword
to spear his victims.”
John sat at full
attention, uncertain whether it was the military man in him, or the empathic
psychic. Old habits didn’t just die hard, they went kicking and screaming. He
stared at the screen. Police were loading sheet-covered corpses, apparently two
bodies together, into the medical van outside of what appeared to be a fancy
hotel. The top of the sheet protruded upward, attesting to the sword. It was
obvious the killer had skewered his victims together. Christ…
“The Ronin Killer,
so named after the masterless samurai warriors of Japan,” the anchorwoman went
on, “refers to the manner in which the killer chooses his victims, seemingly at
random, and then murders them with a samurai weapon. Police
have been frustrated in the efforts to capture the Ronin Killer before his next
strike. Their only clue is the manner in which two victims are killed at once,
either in an embrace or during sexual intercourse.”
“Damn,” John murmured, a
sick feeling rising in his gut. He continued to watch the footage.
“Police Inspectors
Natsuka Yamamoto and Toshiro Genjin of the Criminal Investigation Bureau have
been on the case since the first victims appeared nearly six months ago. They
refused to comment on the string of murders.”
The cameras zoomed in on
the two men. They were leaving the building. A middle-aged, shorter man walked
in front of the other detective, seeming to shield him, but the cameras managed
to catch glimpses of the second detective. A few seconds sufficed for John to
see that the younger man was slim and handsome. John’s heart sped up slightly.
The detective’s ebony hair framed an angular face in sexy layers that curled
over his collar.
John watched the screen,
his gaze glued on the taller figure of the young detective until he was no
longer visible. The segment ended and John switched off the set. He shook his
head. There was a time when he would have immediately booked a flight to Tokyo
and turned up at the police station, offering his services to catch the killer.
Hell, that Japanese detective was almost good-looking enough to pull him from
his rest cure. However, his nerves were still shot from the series of cases
he’d worked on with police over the last few years. Four months hadn’t proved
to be enough of a vacation. His hands had only stopped shaking in the last
week.
He pushed the image of
that guy from his mind, fighting back the nagging spirals of heat whispering
about in his long-neglected groin area. John Holmes filled his days with walks
in the park, counseling at the VA, and whatever leisure and athletic activities
would keep him fit between reading trashy detective novels and staring into
space. No antique stores for him, nor any other place where the lives of the
dead could crash in on him. No touching other people so he could experience all
their grief and anguish and learn their deepest secrets. He didn’t even take
his reading material from the library or get it at used bookstores because he’d
sense the lives of the people who’d touched the book before him. He was resting
until his own soul told him he was ready again.
His cell phone rang. The
private, unlisted number that only his agent, Dick Watson had, not even his own
family. Even though he was pretty close with his folks and siblings, he’d
needed to reduce the number of times the phone rang. It had also been worth his
peace of mind to invest in an agent to run interference with police stations,
press and general curiosity mongers and tire kickers.
John’s stomach fluttered
with a touch of premonition. “Dick? Hey.”
“Sorry to make the phone
ring, mate.” The Aussie’s cheerful voice gave John momentary relief. “How are
you?”
John sighed and leaned
back in his chair. He propped his bare feet up on the glass coffee table. “The
same. How’s the wife?”
“Sandy’s fine. She wants
you to come to dinner soon.”
Dick and his family were
the only people John allowed himself to socialize with since Brett had left.
The pressure of a post-traumatic stress disorder suffering psychic as a lover
had been too much for the guy. Yet, physical contact with him hadn’t been a joy
either. Brett had secrets that, when John touched him, were no longer secrets.
This combination really didn’t do a relationship good.
“That would be great.”
John stared up at the ceiling. He definitely appreciated when someone else did
the cooking. Baked beans from a can got awfully tiresome after a while.
“Is that why you
called?”
Pause. Dick cleared his
throat. “Um…well…no.”
The flutter in John’s
gut kicked up again. “Don’t tell me.”
Sigh. “John, I really
debated hard on this one. It’s the first call I’ve contacted you about in four
months.”
John could only imagine
how many calls Dick had actually turned down for him, in spite of the intense
guilt he suffered. How many cases could be solved if he just helped? He just
had to trust that his agent wouldn’t allow something like that to happen. Dick
was shrewd and prudent and John trusted him implicitly. “All right, shoot.”
“Good man. Have you
started watching the news again?”
“A bit here and there.”
Dick cleared his throat
again. This was going to be a doozy. “Maybe you’ve heard about the serial
murders in Tokyo? They’re calling them the Ronin killings, after the samurai?”
John felt his pulse
throb in his wrist. This was too damn weird. “I just saw the clip a second
before you called.” I saw that hot detective who’s on the case.
“Yeah, well, the third
murder just happened yesterday, taking into account the time difference. And
about five minutes ago, I got a call from the superintendent of that district,
asking, no pleading, for your services. They’re desperate to get this guy
before he kills again.”
“Naturally.” John’s
heartbeat quickened slightly.
“Of course the airfare,
lodging, et cetera is all taken care of. I'll take care of briefing the police
on what you do and what to expect when you examine a crime scene, although the
superintendent I spoke with says he's read about you in their police journals.”
“How nice. I’m famous.”
Dick chuckled. “Better
than infamous, I suppose, mate.”
John joined him in the
laughter. “Yes, I suppose.”
The moment of humor
passed and they were both silent. John sensed Dick’s hesitation on the other
end.
“If you want to take
some time to decide, mate...”
John sat up in his
chair. He sighed. “No. I don’t need time on this one. I’m tired of refusing to
help. I think I’ll be able to handle it.”
“You’re a good man,
John. Are you sure?”
John nodded even though
Dick couldn’t see him. “I’m sure.”
“Are you ready for the
briefing?”
“Shoot.”
“Just the bare facts.
The victims are found slain with the sword. Roughly twenty-four to forty-eight
hours later, a man or woman is found, dead of a coronary after having carved
the name ‘Naomasa’ on his or her own forehead. Their fingerprints match the fingerprints
on the murder weapon each time.”
“Jesus.” The details of
murder never failed to horrify.
“Tell me about it. So
far the police have not been able to establish a connection. No cults or
religious groups that would be engaged in such activities. Nothing.”
John sighed. “That’s
where I come in.”
“That’s right. Anyway,
I’ll have your ticket for you this evening when I pick you up for the airport.”
“Dick, you’re the best.”
Seriously, John didn’t know how he’d cope without his agent’s help.
Dick chuckled. “So my
wife is fond of telling me. See you tonight, mate.”
What
are your forthcoming writings?
Sedonia:
I am in the midst of writing the third installment in a trilogy of samurai
romance novellas entitled A Samurai For Aoki. The first two, Flying Fish, and
Blind Love are already released.
What
four top most things you take care of while writing a book?
Sedonia:
I make sure that I am not forcing the plotlines or the character along. If I
get stuck, I pull back and give the story time to tell itself to me. Then I
write it down. I make sure that I word ever sentence the most perfect way it
can be expressed. I write what I love to read about – if I am not interested in
something, I don’t try to write a story about it just to make a commercial success.
More than ever, I make sure that if someone I love were to pick up the book and
read it, that it would be something that I would be proud to show them.
Your
dream destination on Earth?
Sedonia: Hmm, at
this point I feel like my dream destination is Thailand. I love Thai food and
the Thai people I have met have been so sweet and kind that I would love to
there.
Your
origin of birth and other countries you have visited/ stayed. What best things
you liked in these countries around the globe?
Sedonia:
I am from the United States but I have been to England, France, Italy, Greece,
Israel, Russia, Canada and some Caribbean Islands. I liked the Mediterranean
countries the best because there is so much sunlight and the food is very fresh
and delicious.
Your
favorite time of the day?
Sedonia: The wee
quiet hours of the morning because they are so still and quiet and when i sit
together with my boyfriend and we watch TV or just laugh together.
Your
zodiac/ sunsign?
Sedonia: My
zodiac sign is Taurus. My Chinese zodiac sign is the Rooster.
Your
favorite book and why?
Sedonia:
I have a collection of favorites but I would have to say that one of the top
favorites I have is My Guru and His Disciple by Christopher Isherwood. I love
this book because Christopher Isherwood who wrote so beautifully, was sincere
and honest in his personal struggles of spirit and in the way he portrayed the
relationship between himself and Swami Prabhavananda.
Your
favorite food?
Sedonia: Pizza, massaman
curry and vegetable samosas.
The
last line of your autobiography would be…
Sedonia:
I did my best to live harmlessly. I hope I succeeded.
Links:
Twitter
handle: www.twitter.com/sedoniaguillone
Facebook
page: https://www.facebook.com/sedonia.guillone
Goodreads
author page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/915705.Sedonia_Guillone
Amazon
link: http://www.amazon.com/Sedonia-Guillone/e/B002ES79VE/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1396468785&sr=1-2-ent
Website: www.sedoniaguillone.com
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