Okay, so you all have probably seen me whine on Twitter about how busy I am. I work full-time, am raising two kids with my full-time working husband, and I like to write every once in a while. So if I ever dedicate my time to reading an entire book series, please trust that it’s worth your time, too!
Today’s author Tasha L. Harrison wrote my latest literary obsession, The Lust Diaries trilogy (FREE on Kindle Unlimited, FYI!). When I tell you that this series took over my life and had me thinking about its characters for days after finishing – whooo, Father Prince! Tasha has created a lane for herself in contemporary romance/erotica that leaves her readers aching for more (I know I am always here for more of Yves and Elijah’s antics!).
Read along as Tasha dishes about feeling compelled to write Filthy Women’s Fiction, how the art of storytelling influences her writing, and how she makes her characters so damned relatable!
In a few sentences, tell us a little about yourself.
Hi, I’m Tasha L. Harrison (don’t forget the L!) I write what I like to call Filthy Women’s Fiction with a cast of characters who reflect my daily life – which is varied, beautiful, and melanated. I’m a mom of two smallish men (who are mostly men now and not so smallish) and one super-needy boxer dog. In addition to writing, I also edit romance and all of its subgenres at thedirtyeditor.com.
What do you love most about the craft of writing?
I love writing romance and all of its subgenres for the same reasons that people love to read them: the entertainment and the escape. Writing is the place I find solace. Whether it’s journaling or crafting whole lives of characters that feel real, writing is something I’ve always done and always will do.
Tell us about your latest project.
I’m taking a break from my series The Lust Diaries to write a story for Ava Marie Greene, the best friend of the main character from The Lust Diaries. Ava suffers from what is commonly mislabeled as ‘Angry Black Woman’ syndrome. This novel will tackle some difficult topics—police brutality, street harassment, dealing with subtle racism, the “superwoman” persona that black women often assume or are assigned…I SWEAR THIS IS A ROMANCE, lol. It’s a lot of heavy topics, but this book has been on my heart for a while so I know it needs to be written.
When did you first consider yourself a writer?
I’ve always considered myself a writer, but I never really thought of myself as an author or claimed that title until I finished book three of The Lust Diaries.
~Writing is the place I find solace.~
What drew you to writing romance/erotica?
I just kinda fell into it, to be honest. In the beginning, I spent a lot of time trying to write stories in genres that are more respected (which…I have major issues with that way of thinking, but I digress) but every time I would set pen to paper, all of these filthy bits would spill out. At first I edited them out but, over time, I saw that it enriched the story and removing the filth made the story less interesting. So I stopped doing that and embraced the filth.
Which book(s) have influenced your writing style the most?
I don’t know that I’ve been influenced by any books. There are stories that I love. Books that are like comfort food that I reread often. But if I have to point to a book that was the catalyst to me writing erotic romance, I’d have to say Addicted by Zane. I read it when I was 12 years old. It’s the only book of Zane’s that I’ve ever read, but it was the first book that I read that straddled the romance/erotica genre and urban lit genre that I read a lot of when I was younger.
Share a piece of your work that showcases your writing style best.
Well…I don’t call my books Filthy Women’s Fiction for no reason. So this bit is going to be filthy. It’s from A Slant of Light, a short story prequel of The Lust Diaries from Julian Webster’s POV.
Julian left his bike at the club, and they took a cab back to his place. The ride was short, but Yves was impatient. In the back seat, she kissed him and pushed her hands under his clothes. He tried to stay strong and level-headed as he thwarted her advances while muttering, “Can’t believe I’m doing this. Can’t believe this is happening” under his breath. As drunk as he was at the club, he was stone cold sober now.
She fought him to get his cock out of his pants in the backseat. It was a ridiculous tussle; her tugging his fly down and him zipping it back up. When she finally liberated it from the confines of his jeans, a giggle of delight bubbled out of her.
“Are you serious with that thing?”
“What?” he asked, suddenly self-conscious.
“It’s fucking beautiful, that’s what.” She scooted over on the seat and tucked her feet under her bottom. “Long, thick and damn near perfect,” she murmured.
He let out a hiss as she gently licked the tip then took him into her mouth and swirled her tongue around the crown.
Julian moaned softly, and his eyes rolled back in his head for a moment. “Shit…you can’t do this. You’re gonna get us arrested,” he rasped, he grabbed her right at the nape of her neck and pulled her up until her mouth met his. “My place is in the next block,” he whispered and fought to get his cock back into his slim fit jeans.
They took longer than necessary getting up the stairs to his apartment. Every few feet or so, she pushed him against the wall to kiss and fondle him in a way that was damn near obscene. She was like an over-eager teenager who couldn’t decide where she wanted to put her hands first. Julian found himself caught up in the fever of it. He caressed her breasts through the thin bodice of her dress, tugged and pulled at her nipples until they were hard and sensitive against the palms his hands.
When they finally made it to his door, he pressed her against it and kissed her until she sagged against him. She was practically panting by the time he got the door open. Once they were inside, he made a feeble attempt to compose himself. He dropped his keys on the bookshelf by the door and emptied his pockets of his cell phone and wallet.
“Would you like a drink? Or something to eat? I think I’ve got half a pizza in the fridge.”
“Such good manners,” she said with a shake of her head. “No. I’m not hungry or thirsty.”
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” he asked turning toward her.
“You can get your dick out of those jeans again so I can put my mouth on it.”
His balance faltered a bit, and he grabbed his crotch protectively.
She smiled and narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you afraid of me?”
“Afraid? No. Not afraid. A lick’il wary,” he confessed.
She bit her lip and looked up at him. “Your hesitation is cute and more than a little irresistible, but there’s no need to be scared of me. I’m just a lick’il whoa-mon. You could do anything you want to me.”
Yves reached under her dress and shimmied out of her thong and tossed it aside. He watched her cautiously.
“Damn, you’re pretty,” she said softly.
Pretty? That was not a way he had ever thought of himself. She leaned back against the wall, slid one finger over her drenched slit. Clearly his prettiness was something that turned her on. He watched with open fascination. A little moan escaped his lips as he watched her bring that hand to her mouth lick her fingers. His cock, which he had shoved back into his pants with far too much haste, swelled painfully against the zipper of his flies.
“Come over here and lick my pussy,” she said.
Her direct request threw Julian off for a moment. It felt like a challenge to his manhood, but if he was meant to be offended by it, his dick didn’t agree. He took a few hesitant steps, a last minute grab for sanity, and then he was on her. Kissing her rough and hard and pressing her back against the wall. He bunched her dress around her waist and ran his hands between her legs, parting her thighs so that he could fit himself between them. Her hands pushed under his shirt and up his back. Julian shivered. Too long. Too long since he’d been touched. He deepened the kiss, lapped at her mouth, sucked her lips. The taste of her tongue was sweet with rum and pineapple.
“My pussy,” she reminded him. “Lick it.”
He knelt, slowly slipping down her body until his lips brushed against her mound. His hands rested on her thighs. A tremor rippled just under the surface of her skin. Anticipation.
“You look good with your face between my legs,” Yves said with a soft laugh.
There was only one light on in the room. The one right by the door. It didn’t illuminate but instead threw shadows that deepened underneath the curtain of her dark hair. He could still see her eyes. Shining and luminescent in the dim glow. He kept his eyes on hers as he extended the tip of his tongue to gently touch her engorged clit. She rocked her hips forward, wanting the warmth of his mouth.
“Come on, baby,” she whispered, caressing the back of his neck and applying gentle pressure. He wanted to resist but couldn’t. The womanly scent of her had already overwhelmed him. It wasn’t sweet like the pineapple and rum on her tongue, but it that made his mouth water all that same. So he gave into the gentle urging of her hand until his mouth was on her sex.
Name three of your best writing tips.
- Learn the rules so you can break them like a pro.
- The filthier the better.
- If your mama is reading it, make it twice as filthy.
Dead or alive, name the writer you wish were your mentor and why.
Zora. Definitely Zora Neale Hurston. I just want that culture that she infused in her writings.
What would you say is your own interesting writing quirk?
I pretty much fall in love with my characters. Character development is my jam. I nerd out on making fake people feel real.
Shout out an indie writer whose work you love.
First, I’m gonna shout out Annabel Joseph for writing hardcore filthy shit with a sweet, romantic angle that I haven’t seen perfected anywhere ever. Linking up with her has made all of my writerly dreams come true. We don’t see each other as much now but I still love her to pieces…and then love those pieces some more. She’s the best.
Secondly…she isn’t just indie anymore but shouting out Madhuri Pavamani, my sister in filth. That’s bae. I luff hurr. If you don’t know, you need to fuck with it. FUCK WIT IT.
Do you have any specific writing goals in your radar?
On the writer side, I want to publish The Truth of Things by this summer and the fourth and final book in The Lust Diaries, A Soft Place to Fall, before the year is out. On the editor side, I’m developing some filthy book coaching sessions that I hope will launch in the next six months or so (aiming for September so I can get people ready for NaNoWriMo).
Thanks for joining us today. Readers, feel free to stalk this sexy author at the following links:
Website & Blog: tashalharrison.com