Author, Em Petrova - Outlaws of Love

Today, I'm pleased to host Em Petrova on her blog tour.

Welcome to Beyond Words.

*waves* Thank you so much for having me! I’m excited to be here.

Can you briefly tell us what attracted you to becoming an author?

I’ve been a writer since I was twelve years old. I wrote everything from paranormals to contemporaries, but they all had one thing in common—a love story. After my daughter passed away in 2000, I went into a seven-year writer’s block. Once I finally swam through the fog, I started writing again, and realized this passion was something I wanted to wake up to every day of my life.

Where did the idea for your current book come from?
Outlaws of Love began with an opening scene. The characters kept yelling at me to help them out, and finally I got up enough courage to write a historical western, which was WAY out of my comfort zone!

How long did it take you to write Outlaws of Love?

A lot of people are going to hate me for this, but it took about five weeks from rough draft to the finished product that passed my editor’s desk. I’m a very fast writer, and I write clean first drafts, which helps a lot.

Who is your favourite character in the book and why?

Ohh, you’re going to make me choose? Damn. All right, I’ll pick the heroine, Annabelle. She’s a good girl turned bad. I loved watching her transform from prim and proper to a gun-wielding vixen who is at the center of a ménage relationship!

What has been your most positive experience since becoming a published author?

Hearing that readers enjoy my books. I live for that email or little message on Facebook when someone says they couldn’t put my book down!

With four children to bring up, how and when do you find the time to write?

I steal it anywhere I can. If I’m in the car, waiting for them to get out of school, I’m scribbling notes on a scene. If I have twenty minutes, I’ll crank out some words. I never waste time. In the summer when the kids are home from school, we have a deal that they give me an uninterrupted hour of writing in the morning and in the late afternoon. The rest of the time is theirs. I think it’s important for kids to respect that a goal must be reached and that what I do is important.

Excerpt of OUTLAWS OF LOVE Rated PG-

With a shiver of apprehension, Annabelle sank into the hip bath that was filled with tepid water. She glared at the wooden plank door of her rented room, daring anyone to come through it uninvited. What kind of place was this? She’d heard the West was uncivilized, but had never dreamed that there wouldn’t be locks on the doors. What was she going to do tonight?

She cast a glance around the small, dingy space, hoping to see a piece of furniture substantial enough to stop an intruder but light enough she could shift on her own. Her gaze lighted on the single set of drawers -- tall and as broad as a man. Well, she mused. Not any man. She’d seen her fair share of stout, pasty men on her travels across the country by stagecoach. Knowing she now had the freedom to look at whomever she chose without the intrusive gazes of society on her sent a thrill through her.

Of course, there was the small matter of her escort, a newly married couple who were friends of her father. But they were often too caught up in each other to notice where her gaze landed. Now the Clarks were on the other side of the hotel, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d gotten a room with a lock.

She wished she had thought of the unlocked door before slipping into the bath. She should have moved that chest of drawers first. But the heated depths had called to her. After her dusty travels, she wanted nothing more than to peel off her grungy clothes and enjoy a soak. It wasn’t until she had gotten into the water that the problem occurred to her. After all, she didn’t need a lock to bathe back in Boston.

I’ll hurry.

Quickly, she lifted the linen cloth she’d brought all the way from home and began washing. At one time the cloth had been white as a dove and scented with lavender. Now it was stained from the road dust that had caked her skin daily for the past month. But it was the cleanest she had.

She hastily swirled the cloth in the water and ran it over her sticky throat and down her shoulders. Just as she reached the crest of her breasts, the door burst inward.

A shrill scream bubbled up her throat. Before she could let it out, a huge brute of a man stomped across the room and clamped a hand over her mouth. She struggled beneath his steely grip, tasting the salt of his flesh and drowning in the musky scent of male mingled with leather and horses.

She jackknifed into a ball instinctively, curling up like a possum as she tried to hide her soft, womanly parts from this monster’s gaze -- and worse -- his touch.

Again, she opened her mouth to scream.

He leveled his gaze on her, the depths of his eyes speaking to her loud and clear.

If she wasn’t quiet, he’d kill her.

She swallowed the cry, staring over his fingers with horror as he one-handedly unbuttoned his shirt and tore it off. The thick cloth hit the floor in a cloud of dust. And then he was stepping into the tub with her, lifting her and plopping her smack dab across his hard thighs to claim her mouth.

Her heart drummed nearly out of her chest. What was he going to do to her? At this point, death seemed a better alternative to being violated by this man. She’d be soiled forever -- and her fiancé wouldn’t accept her.

A squawk escaped her, and her attacker sealed his mouth more securely over hers, cutting off all noise and air.

At that moment, the door burst open again. A whoosh of cool breeze washed over her bare shoulders and back. Help me! Before she could utter a sound, the man restrained her further by slipping his fingers around her throat.

To an outsider, it might have seemed a loving gesture, but any thought of escape fled as his rough fingertip settled over her pulse. His thumb pressed the hollow of her throat. If she dared to move, he could choke the breath from her. Or snap her neck. Judging from the hard muscles beneath her, she knew a flick of his wrist would break her neck.

“Oh! Sorry, madam.” A man gulped a breath of air from the doorway. “I mean no disrespect. I was looking for a criminal.”

The man in the tub with her kept on kissing her like they were alone, angling his head and plunging his tongue deep into her mouth until she was dizzy for air.

Em Petrova
~where words mean so much more~

About Em Petrova
Em Petrova lives in backwoods Pennsylvania, where she raises four kids and two feral kittens and pays too damn much for utilities. But seeing her sexy husband tromp out back with a chainsaw in hand is well worth the frustration of living miles from a mall. She adores writing sex scenes and anything paranormal. When she has the opportunity to mix the two, she’s in her element.
You can learn more about her smutty reads at


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