Even though she lives a quiet life in a small rural community in Southwestern Michigan with her husband and kids, Jennifer Armintrout/Abigail Barnette is a well known USA Today Bestselling Author with several wonderful books to her credit. Today we are going to find out what she has been up to and hear about some of her work.

1. Hi Jennifer, give us an update,.. what have you been up to?
I have been a busy bee writing as Abigail Barnette, my erotic romance pseudonym. I started writing as her in 2010, and since then I've had something like eleven? Twelve? Novellas a short story published under that name.

2. Tell us about your upcoming books and what your working on.
Right now I'm working on a really fun project with a guy out of L.A., we're hoping to sell it in the YA market, I'm doing some historical vampire writing, and I'm still writing as Abigail Barnette.

3. Your writing doesn’t stick with one style. What causes this shift to develop for you?
Boredom. It's so easy for me to get bored and want to move on to the next thing, so working on two or three different things, with different tones and genres, at the same time, cuts down on my boredom considerably.

4. Is it something that you enjoy or is it a struggle to switch your mode?
Most of the time, I really enjoy it, but occasionally I struggle. For example, right now, I just got done writing an Abigail Barnette novel for Ellora's Cave, and it was a menage set in Victorian Plymouth. Then I had to switch gears immediately and start working on another baseball romance for Resplendence, and it was pretty jarring. I had become so immersed with Victorian England that I couldn't make the switch as easily to contemporary romance.

5. What is the most important lesson you have learned as an author that sticks with you at all times?
Be nice to people, because people have long memories.

6. How did writing under the name Abigail Barnette come to be?
I was getting burned out on uf/pnr, and some friends of mine were writing erotic romance. They were really having a good time doing it, so I thought I might try my hand at it. It was so fun, it totally took over my career for a few years!

7. Tell us more about the Abigail Barnette side of you and books.
Well, first of all, my Abigail Barnette books are definitely more about sex and relationships than my Jennifer Armintrout books. Those aspects were always there in the Jennifer Armintrout books, but they're the focus of Abigail Barnette's books. It's fun to be a little bit naughty, and I think that fun shows in the stories I write.

8. What is the most interesting or bizarre fan letter (or email) you have ever received? What has been the most SHOCKING question you have ever been ask?
I can't believe how many people ask how much money I make! It's like, whoa, if I meet an architect, I don't say, "What's your yearly salary," but almost everyone asks how much money authors make, like that's totally cool and acceptable. As for the strangest fan letter? I once got a very angry letter from a woman who absolutely hated my books and pointed out all the ways these other urban fantasy authors were better than me. She closed by saying that she would continue reading my books, because she felt she had to, since she started the series, but that she was going to hate them. When I wrote her back and said, "Hey, everyone likes different things, if they're not for you, don't keep reading them, support an author you do like," she got super offended and said I was the rudest person she'd ever talked to. I thought that was such a weird response from a person who had contacted me directly to trash talk me.

9. Do you write more than one book at a time?
Yup. I never used to, but now I have to, to stay on schedule. And I've always got ideas simmering on the back burner in my mind.

10. If you could go back in time and change one important event in one of your books that would spiral the ending in a different way, what would you pick and how would you change it?
I don't know how to do this without giving spoilers, but... hmmm... I think I would have done more with the Oracle in the Blood Ties books. To this day, I don't know why I didn't feature her more than the Soul Eater as the big, bad villain of the series.

Jennifer Armintrout's website: http://www.jenniferarmintrout.com/

Abigail Barnette's website: http://www.abigailbarnette.com/

BLURB: Accused of treason by his own father, Prince Philipe of Chevudon finds his flight to safety cut short by an arrow to the shoulder. There is only one person to whom he can turn for help, the only woman he ever loved, the only person he ever truly betrayed…

Following the destruction of her home and family in a fire that left her horribly disfigured, Johanna has lived a life of hardship and pain. When her lost love comes to her, wounded and on the run from his father’s guard, she cannot turn him away. But she cannot forgive him either.
Can a prince who was once a beast earn back the love he cast aside?

EXCERPT: A hot bath, a good meal, and a vigorous whore were all Philipe longed for, in that order, as his horse pounded down the frozen road. Knowing that such luxuries were unlikely didn’t stop him from wanting them. He’d been riding hard for three days, his father’s men at his heels like dogs on a fox.

“We’re but a mile from Clatterbuck,” Jessop, Philipe’s companion, once captain of his palace guard, called to him over the thunder of hooves. He was breathless from the ride, and red-faced, and Philipe knew that he might as well have been staring into a mirror. An exhausted, unshaven mirror.

“If Lord Fueil has not forsaken us, I may make it out of the kingdom alive.” He gripped the reins tighter in his swollen fingers, the cold leather of his gloves creaking.

It was a strange position he found himself in, that of the fugitive crown prince. His father, once Albart the Wise, King of Chevudon, had become Albart the suspicious, Albart the confused. Albart the paranoid and vindictive, who’d driven his own son from the palace with allegations of treason.

Philipe plotted the route in his mind. Shelter for the night behind the walls of Fueil’s fortress, then to the border and beyond, where his father’s men could not seek him. But as they rode on, his own suspicions deepened. The hovels on the outskirts of Fueil’s land showed no signs of life. Further into the village, not a chimney smoked nor a babe cried.

“It’s deserted,” Philipe said, scanning the low rooftops. His exhausted horse nickered and stepped restlessly.

“I don’t like this, Your Highness.” Jessop looked over his shoulder. “I think we may already be trapped.”

He’d barely finished his sentence before a thump widened his eyes and he fell from the saddle, an arrow protruding from his chest. Philipe ducked and tugged the reins, bringing his horse around to shield the fallen man. For but a moment, he considered trying to save Jessop. Another arrow sliced through the air, striking his horse in the neck. The animal reared back, spilling Philipe to the ground. He caught the reins of Jessop’s horse. The man lay on the ground, unmoving, as the hooves of Philipe’s wounded, maddened horse struck the mud around him. Jessop was dead, that much was clear, and Philipe did not intend to waste such a noble man’s death. He put his heels to Jessop’s horse, freeing the animal to carry him wherever it may, so long as it was out of this place.

Fueil, you bastard! When this was finished, when Philipe returned to his kingdom to inherit his throne, he would have the traitorous lord’s head on a pike.

Something struck him in the shoulder. A stone? He was nearly unhorsed, but righted himself in the saddle, arm aching. Only when he tried to lift it did he feel the sharp, shattering pain of splintered muscle and bone. The shaft of an arrow protruded from his shoulder, and hot blood wet his arm inside his sleeve. He cursed and reached for his sword, but the pain of the motion made him scream as the world blackened, only for an instant. He fought to clear his head. If he were to fall now, it would be over. He would wake in father’s dungeons, awaiting execution, or perhaps he would not wake at all.

Snow drifted through the treetops as riders pursued him, back the way he’d come, farther from the border that would be his safety. In his mind, he conjured a map of his father’s kingdom. It was thirty leagues to the border, and his horse was good for a few miles, at most. If he could have burned Fueil’s lands with the fire of his rage, he would have.

Fire. The word branded the map in his head with another, wholly unpleasant option. To the northeast lay Hazelhurn. The one place in the entire kingdom he might trade for the underworld. But it wasn’t death that frightened him so. He had to live, so that his father’s throne would be inherited by someone with reason and sanity, not some power-mad courtier who would be worse than the feeble-minded old man.

He would go to Hazelhurn, and the gods help him. But first, he had to lose the men following him. Plunging his horse headlong into the trees, he kept low and prayed that the lord of Hazelhurn would be far kinder to him than he deserved.

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