Kim McNiel is a good ole' country girl at heart. She was born and raised in a small Texas town called Spring. As the mother of three, she spent most of her adult life dedicated to raising her family. With her children almost grown, she decided to fulfill her dream of writing. Her best friend told her 'pen to paper sweetie, be you, and never give up.' She took his advice and didn't. She writes contemporary and steamy romance, erotic romance, and has several projects in the fire to look forward to.
When did you find out that you wanted to be a writer? What inspired you to put pen to paper?
I always wanted to write, but finally when my children got almost grown, I talked with a friend of mine who encouraged me to sit down and finally do it. His words were exactly ‘put pen to paper’ and quit giving me excuses. I did.
Of your published works, do you have a favorite? Why?
Oh yes, Caleb is my favorite so far. I had a blast writing this story. Caleb is one of those characters you love to hate, and he makes me laugh.
How do you decide on character names?
I just started typing and his name popped in my head. He wasn’t named after anyone in particular, I just liked the name.
How much of your life and the people you know end up in your work?
So far none of it. I’ve definitely not written a story about any person I knew, though that could always be a future option. wicked laugh
What's your writing routine?
To not have a routine. It seems every time I plan something, it’s interrupted, so I’ve turned completely panster with writing and don’t keep a routine except to write every single day.
Is there a character or story that's stuck in your head and won't leave, from either your work or someone else's?
Honestly I do have a paranormal story stuck in my head that I want to write or attempt, but I’ve never written in that genre and not sure how it would turn out.
What writers or novels do you consider “must reads”?
Anything by Poppet. Her stories are very strong and powerful, plus there is a lot of lessons learned in each story.
Talk to us about your domestic life; a favorite recipe, craft, your pets, children, house, or favorite set of socks.
My domesticated life is pretty boring. I like to catch a movie or concert every now and then, read a good book or just chill in front of the boob tube. My favorite recipe is for homemade manicotti. I have three children and I hardly ever wear socks. I live in Texas, so it’s usually barefooted or flip-flops for me.
Tell us three things about you that are interesting.
1.) My muse is a bipolar bitch who refuses meds
2.) I live with my ex-husband. Yes, ex
3.) I refuse to wear a dress
Caleb loves the ladies and can't keep his ego in his pants. With a new set of legs to wrap around him every two nights, he never thinks about what he'd do if Sarah caught him - until she does.
The repercussions are cataclysmic, giving him a second chance at life. Who is Caleb really? The ego or the man he professes to be? This playa plays to win.
Living a double life, Caleb is a hard-working and self-assured man, who doubles as an arrogant, cocky and womanizing prick. With his choices of women on a layaway plan, he’s never lonely.
Caleb believes he’s nailed the market on being the ultimate playa and never wonders what the consequences could be if Sarah, his live in, ever found out…until she does. When Sarah turns his life upside down, Caleb loses it and catastrophe follows not far behind.
When his world gets flipped right size up, he begins to realize the things that are really important to him. Although Caleb makes some ultimate sacrifices to save his pride, ego and relationship with Sarah, he still hides one very important secret.
Stopping at the florist on the way home, I pull in and pick up a dozen pink roses for Sarah. Yes, sucking ass big time.
Hey, if it works…then I’ll be all good. When I’m good, everyone is good. God forbid I get red roses, she’d want to run off to the fucking chapel. That isn’t going to happen to me, not in this lifetime anyways. I stroll in the house.
“I’m home babe,” I yell out, dropping the folder on the table.
“Upstairs,” Sarah yells back. I know this tone.
Skipping two steps at a time, I follow the circular staircase. I dodge the hanging chandelier with my head. Something else she had to have, forgetting I am well over six fucking feet tall.
“Hi darling, these are for you,” I hand her the flowers.
“Why? Because you slammed the phone down in my ear earlier?”
And…here we go! She’s such a bitchacoholic.