Literary Nymphs Interview
Title: A Little Bite of Magic
Author: MJ O'Shea
Publisher: LooseId Publishers
Genre: M/M Rom-Com with paranormal themes...and lots of cooking:)
Release Date: April 30th
Do you write in more than one genre?
Right now, I'm in M/M only but all over the place within that genre — contemporary, paranormal, rock stars, etc. I have written some mainstream YA books, but none of them are published yet. Still working on that!
What if any, is the hardest part of writing for you?
The hardest part is having the time to write all the stories I have ideas for! I have a huge backlist of books I'd love to write but haven't gotten to yet. Someday, though. Someday.
What inspired the story?
I've always loved the bumbling black sheep of the family comedic witch character. I also love cooking stories and cooking in general. I thought it would be fun to combine them. And then I decided that the perfect foil for this character would be an uptight restaurant critic. From there it pretty much happened naturally!
I can’t. I shouldn’t be here. That much was obvious.
really hadn’t planned on doing anything. Really. He was just going to talk to
the beautiful man in the wine bar, then go home and fantasize about what
could’ve been. What could never have been, actually, since he wasn’t going to
do anything about it. So why was he here, then, with said beautiful man in a
deserted restaurant kitchen about to do what was definitely something?
Because I want to. More than anything I’ve ever wanted before.
Frankie was dancing around the kitchen, clearly in his element, taking out ingredients and cookware.
“What are you making?”
He grinned, that sweet flashy smile that made
belly weak. I want to touch him again. It had been heaven simply holding hands.
Who would’ve thought his routine day would end in such an amazing way? He had
expected to have a glass of wine and walk himself home. Alone. Instead he was
with a gorgeous chef in an old-restaurant kitchen that should’ve been creepy
but was instead atmospheric and wonderful. Addison
didn’t want to wake up from whatever dream he’d landed in. Telling the truth
would result in a short ride back to reality.
It’s okay. Just for tonight. I don’t have to tell him who I am if I never see him again.
Frankie poured cream and cracked eggs into a glass bowl. He made the motions look graceful. Effortless. Even when he whisked it all with a big metal thing that looked like a torture device.
“Are you going to tell me what you’re cooking?”
couldn’t believe he wanted to know so badly. Even though there was nothing
really happening yet, he smelled magic on the breeze. Wait, there was a breeze?
There was. It was subtle and warm and sweet but didn’t seem to have an origin.
“Where’s that wind coming from?”
“It’s a surprise, nosy, and what wind? The door is closed.” Frankie cocked his head to the side and listened.
didn’t feel anything.
Frankie put the bowl of cream and eggs over a pot of water that he set to boil. Then he started splitting black stalks that looked like beans over the bowl and scraping out the tiny bits of seeds until they were swirling in the cream before dropping the pods in whole. The vanilla smell was instant and intense. He then added a cascade of sparkling sugar and began to stir with an old wooden spoon.
“I get the vanilla from
and Tahiti. The flavor is gorgeous. It’s sexy
Addison asked. He sat on
a stool opposite Frankie’s cooktop. He couldn’t stop staring.
“A bit of cornstarch. It helps everything to get nice and thick.”
Why does everything he say sound so damn hot?
Frankie kept stirring. He concentrated hard for a moment, eyes closed.
“What are you doing now?”
never seen anything like Frankie cooking.
Frankie grinned at him. “Just adding the magic touch. My relatives are…very French. I got some odd customs from my mother’s side of the family.”
“Rum.” Frankie grinned wickedly. “Can you handle it?”
“Needs some caramel, I think,” Frankie murmured. He took a jar from the ancient monster of a refrigerator, stirring and murmuring until the golden ribbon of gooey sugar was all gone, dissolved into the swirling creamy white.
“Are you talking to the food?”
Frankie smiled. “I think all chefs do. Here, taste.” He took another spoon and dipped it into the warm mixture.
“Good?” Frankie’s voice was a rough whisper.
“Here.” Another spoonful found its way into
mouth, even more intoxicating than the first. He savored the exotic flavor,
licked the sweet warmth off the spoon. Frankie moaned.
Addison asked. He felt even
looser than he’d been at the wine bar, although he knew it was impossible from
just that small taste of rum. His body was heating up and opening, and he
wanted to touch.
Frankie sucked the rest of the custard from the spoon. “You,” he answered. “Do you have any idea how sexy you are?”
“Can I have more?”
They shared another spoonful, then another, then a third. The haze got thicker in
Addison’s head. Frankie slowly
drifted his way around the island, the custard spoon in his hand. He wriggled
his way in between Addison's thighs. Then he
dipped the spoon again and brought it to Addison’s
I need to kiss him.
“Can I…?” Frankie whispered.
Their lips touched, just barely at first, and
inhaled Frankie’s sugar-scented breath. More. He had to taste. Addison’s fingers found their way behind Frankie’s neck;
his tongue swiped along a lush lower lip. The taste, oh the taste, it crawled
down his spine with sweetly stinging claws of pleasure. Addison
Then Frankie slipped his tongue out and tasted
lips, just like he'd been tasted. The moment was excruciating and perfect,
sweet and a little wild.
"Is this okay?" Frankie asked.
He barely recognized his own voice.
"Good, ’cause I need more." Frankie lifted his arm and threaded a long-fingered hand through
hair. He pulled him close until their mouths collided in a kiss so intense, Addison wondered if he'd be able to breathe once it was
over. Frankie moaned against his mouth, or maybe it was Addison who moaned. It
didn't matter. The result was pleasure. Hotter and sweeter than any he'd ever
thought possible. He tasted dessert and something more that he knew had to be
Frankie—warm, rich, and sexy as hell. He heard the distant clang of a spoon on
flagstones, but it barely registered. The only thing he was aware of was the
swirling, consuming, gorgeous flavor that bloomed between them, and the heavy
sexual haze that he couldn’t surface from. He didn’t want to surface anyway.
Ever. Frankie pressed closer. Addison couldn’t
drag him close enough.
“I want to keep kissing you all night,” Frankie murmured, his voice breathless.
Addison answered. “All night.”
And just like he’d always hoped, the rest of the world disappeared.
Where can we find your website?
There are a few other places you can usually find me hanging about:)