A Writer's View: Cristiane Serruya

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Cristiane Serruya will be awarding a $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Inside out my writing space

Hello Judy, and thanks for hosting me. I’m so happy to be here with you and your readers today.

So, some writers have offices that overlook a garden, a lawn, or a peaceful stand of trees. I live very close to Copacabana beach—yes, that would be in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil—and…I would have loved if my home-office faced the beach.

Unfortunately, not even from my living room windows I can see it. There is nothing but buildings outside, and the living-room gray-and-white striped curtains are usually closed. To make things worse, I have no windows on my home-office. Yet, that might be the best because said view could be a little—or rather, a lot—distracting. The monotonous strips of the curtains keep my mind off the real-world and in my written-world, and my window-lacking home-office walls prevent my eyes from straying away from my computer screen.

Now that you are all pitying me, let’s take a walk though my writing space. There is what you can see: bookshelves filled with books—duh!—and other shelves containing old notebooks and Moleskins from TRUST Series and those not-so-old from Love Painted in Red, all labeled and stacked alongside the brand-new editions of eight TRUST Series installments, the huge Love Painted in Red stand-alone, and the ghostly-thin The Modern Man: A philosophical divagation on the evil banality of the daily acts paperbacks. A tall glass and a jar of homemade ice-tea, which is cold-sweating over a white-linen covered tray, are sitting in a corner by the four-colored printed ARC of my still unpublished first kid’s story, Prince Peter and The Kingdom of Perfection, and one of my reading-glasses.

Fat files crammed with newspaper articles and fashion magazines pages are witnesses to the creation of Sophia, Ethan, and Alistair; Laetitia and Tavish; Lady Cholé and Baron Beardley; Prince Peter and his friends; and all those who haven’t been born yet but are already demanding to have their stories told.

From the Baroness’s Diary: The erotic escapades of Baron Beardley’s wife, The Diaries #1 first draft is still gathering dust while yellow stick-up notes on From the Baroness’s Diary, vol. 2, The Diaries #2 compete with random annotations for From the Baron’s Diary: Confessions of a peer of the English Realm, The Diaries #3.

So you see, it is an organized space—What? Messy? Erm…OK. It’s actually my sacred coherent untouchable mess. My home-office is where I plan, write, and edit my books, where I create my book-best-friends—ah, and the book-boyfriends—and where the characters take control of their lives—or should I say, mine—twist my plot-planning, and then decide who loves, lives, and dies.

It is my world.

It’s where I dream.

It’s my dream world.

Thank you for the opportunity to share my thoughts here and helping me promote my work. Last, I want to share some good news: All my ebooks are on KindleUnlimited, so visit Cristiane Serruya's Amazon Page and read them all for free!

Thank you for the opportunity to share my thoughts here and helping me promote my work. Last, I want to share some good news: All my ebooks are on KindleUnlimited, so visit Cristiane Serruya's Amazon Page and read them all for free!

I have a website and a blog: Cristiane Serruya Website and I love to connect with readers, so feel free to stalk me online: Cristiane Serruya on Goodreads, Cristiane Serruya Facebook Fan page, @CrisSerruya on Twitter, CristianeSerruya on Instagram, CrisSerruya on Pinterest,

Those who want to receive my very, very sporadic emails about new releases and promotions can sign-up here: Cristiane Serruya Website, and to be part of my Street Team, here: Cris's Street Team

Thanks again, Judy!
Tavish MacCraig, thirty-three-year-old Highlander, forsook his medical and military career, after being a POW for 6 months in Afghanistan, to run his family’s internationally renowned art gallery in London, The Blue Dot. Despite being surrounded by wealth and beauty, Tavish’s days are bleak, his nights, living nightmares, and his heart, an empty shell. But when he meets Irish painter Laetitia Galen, a powerful and sizzling attraction ignites between them.

Laetitia, who fled hell on earth when she was sixteen, now works as a well-paid housekeeper in a forsaken country manor in Warwickshire and sells her paintings in an obscure gallery. To preserve her new life and recently found peace, she resists Tavish and The Blue Dot's fantastic offer of an exclusive contract.

Laetitia becomes Tavish’s obsession; Tavish, Laetitia’s unattainable dream.

Meanwhile, a man with a burning grudge plots his long-awaited revenge, which could destroy them all over again.
Enjoy an excerpt:


“We’ve been doing everything we can,” the private investigator said in defense of himself. He looked pointedly at Geoffrey Callaghan, hoping for some support.

“I’ll double the reward if you find her in the next three months,” said a husky male voice. “Put more men on her. Do whatever is necessary. I’ll pay the extra cost.”

The PI nodded once and quickly made his exit, not wanting to hear the or else, which was implicit in the order. He had never been inside that room. It was the first time in years that he had to deal with a person other than Geoffrey, who was scary enough.

“They will find her,” Geoffrey said.

“If I were a suspicious man, I would wonder why you didn’t have more men searching for her.” Bluish-white smoke rose from the corner, which would be completely dark if not for an orange glow. “Or why you weren’t more careful that night.”

“You were the one who chose her.” A faint smile touched Geoffrey’s wrinkled, thin lips. “I told you she was a freak.”

He had no answer to that. “GO! Leave me alone.”

“That’s exactly what you asked of me years ago. Look what happened.” Geoffrey smirked.

“Leave me alone.” He grabbed the nearest object—a Baccarat ashtray—and flung it at Geoffrey’s head, who despite his old age, ducked, avoiding being hit by the crystal but not by being showered with butts and ashes from the homemade cigar.

“Don’t do that again, my son.” He shook his bald head at the once handsome man sitting in the dark. “Don’t forget who gives the orders here.”

“Do I ever?” A fury raced through the man’s blood. There had been a time when many things could tame his unruly desires. Not anymore. He had become dependent on the old man in front of him.

“I will go.” Geoffrey smirked. “But you need to relax. I’ll send a cup of Yagé and a devotee for you to fuck.”

The man stayed silent for a moment. “Send the Yagé and the devotee.”

“A wise decision. Be at peace,” Geoffrey said before he closed the door behind him.

The orange light glowed brighter as he dragged deeper. He imagined he could see her face and body take shape in the smoke as he exhaled.

She had become the reason he arose every day, breathed, and endured pain. She had become his obsession.

He would find her. Touch her as she had touched him. Make her scream as he had.

Until he tired.

Until she begged.

Then, only then, he would kill her.

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Thanks for hosting!
Lisa Brown said…
congrats on the tour and thanks for the chance to win :)
I've really enjoyed following the tour for Love Painted in Red and can't wait to check it out! Thanks for sharing all of the excerpts and interviews along the way :)