I’m happy to present my interview with Serge de Moliere. His book Love Yoga is his first book with Etopia Press.
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Hi Serge, Thanks for stopping by to talk a little about your writing! Let’s jump right in. I understand that you have a new, exciting romance coming out the first of May. Care to tell us a little bit about it?.
Sure. The title is “Love Yoga” and it’s a romance about an African American yoga instructor. She’s studied in India with a noted Swami and is now trying to get herself known in this country. Her practice is slowly becoming popular. However, her own long term love relationship has gone sour, and this is quite traumatic for her even though she’s begun to realize that he’s not quite the man she originally thought he was. When a handsome and sizzling hot new male student suddenly walks into the yoga studio, she’s bowled over by his gorgeous violet eyes and incredible physique. And, as she helps him with his yoga postures and touches his body in rather intimate fashion, things get quite steamy. It begins to look like there may be a new romantic possibility in her life. And a smoking one at that!
Is this story based on a real life Yoga instructor?
Let’s just say that the protagonist is a blend of several real life yoga instructors with a little hyperbole thrown in. It’s a great read so get ready to be aroused!
You also have another book coming soon, The Intern, could you tell me a little about the characters and the conflict in that book?
Carlina is an attractive young lawyer and Harvard graduate who has, through hard work and a bit of luck, been chosen as one of a select group of White House interns. Coincidentally, this is during the term of the first Latino president of the United States. Al is attractive, bright and hardworking, and his goal is to promote peace in the world and accomplish as much good as he can during his presidency. Needless to say, Carlina, who is also Latina, is attracted to him and they have many traits in common. Unfortunately, he is older and much more accomplished than Carlina; and he is also married, although rumor has it that his marriage is a loveless one.
When Carlina discovers that the President may be as attracted to her as she is to him, a major conflict arises. And when the First Lady enters the White House dwelling to find them naked and in bed together, events seem to take a potentially catastrophic turn.
Where’s the story set? How much influence did the setting have on the atmosphere/characters/development of the story?
The setting is the White House and the Capitol in Washington D.C. It adds to the excitement because Carlina has the opportunity to attend functions including the State of the Union address and see many celebrated dignitaries. Later, she is able to travel to Stockholm, Sweden where the President is to receive the Nobel Peace Prize.
Were your characters difficult to write, or did they seem to spring easily from your mind to the page?
The characters arose fairly easily in part because they were assembled from a combination of various real persons and events with modifications and extrapolations.
How often does your muse distract you from day to day minutiae?
Frequently! And sometimes even in the middle of the night.
If you had to write your memoir in five words, what would you write?
Veni, vidi, vici and Excelsior
What do readers have to look forward to in the future from Serge de Moliere?
I am in the process of completing a story about a big beautiful woman who has a crush on her boss, a handsome lawyer and physical fitness buff whose last wife, was a former Victoria Secrets model.
Thanks again for stopping by, Serge! Stay tuned for many more books from Serge! Readers can discover more about Serge de Moliere here:
Buy Love Yoga May 1st here:
Etopia Press Bookstore
A short Excerpt from Love Yoga
Students had begun to wander in, their bare feet padding slowly on the hardwood floor, multihued yoga mats in their arms. They staked out any available space on the floor, spread out their mats, and prepared for the class. As the room gradually filled, the flat rubber mats were so close together that outstretched arms and legs collided with each other.
Morgan loved the display of colors, the rainbow created on the floor of the studio. The mats formed an attractive assortment: burgundy, orange, pastel blues, dark greens, grays, and even a few royal purples. Unlike many yoga studios this one was fairly new and relatively spacious, with three wide front windows facing east that let in the sunshine even on cold winter mornings. Today the weather was mild but the sky gray, the shy sun occluded by billowing gray clouds, so Morgan had turned on the artificial lighting. It gave the amber-painted walls a pale yellow cast that was just not the same as natural sunlight. But even so the fluorescents brightened moods, allowed her students to relax, to breathe deeply, to stretch to their fullest. After all the mind and body were one, so whatever lifted the mood elongated the body and swelled the spirit.
The cool breeze from the partially open window tickled her bare, hard muscled belly and blew across the fine hair that covered her gleaming abs. As she stretched her arms over her head her muscles and tendons lifted, elongated, extended as her ribs expanded and her small upright breasts pressed hard against her halter top.
She glanced out again at the class. The students were still positioning their equipment. In addition to the mats she could see an assortment of pillows and blocks that were often essential in a beginner’s class. Most of the students knew Morgan preferred to conduct the class in absolute silence and, other than the muffled whisper of mats brushing against the floor and an occasional sneeze or suppressed cough, the room was quiet.
She was thrilled that she had become so popular within the somewhat cluttered local community of yoga instructors. Yoga was a fashionable trend that might eventually peak. Even so it would still increase her current income, since she was paid per attendee. It would also broaden her range of influence and might help propel her further toward her dream of opening her own yoga studio and developing her personal brand of yoga. She hoped that day would not be too far off, although finances were a big consideration.
She felt heat rise in her face. Still daydreaming about her future, she pictured the illustrated e-book she planned to eventually publish to describe Morgan’s Afro-Indian Yoga, her personal, creative twist on classic yoga practice. One had to have a brand to make it big these days; just being skilled at a profession was not enough. And as one of the few African-American yoga instructors in a city teeming with yoga studios, she wanted to be outstanding.
She recalled with affection her lengthy studies in India a year ago with Swami Mondra. It had been a struggle to convince him to take her on. The celebrated yogi had told her he was no longer taking on new students. But he had been impressed by her persistence and her dedication. She was also the first African-American who had ever asked to study with him.
Morgan found the old man incredibly impressive. The elderly yogi was amazingly spry, still strong and healthy after more than half a century of intense yoga practice and teaching, his 80-plus-year-old body still supple and limber. He could still do a headstand with ease and perform a split as if he was made of rubber. Even when things went awry around him he was incredibly calm.
She had watched him sit quietly, a slight smile on his crinkled face, even as a person whose behavior seemed bizarre intruded into the yoga studio and began screaming gibberish at him. Morgan had been ready to call the police, but Swami Mondra had shook his shiny bald head and waved her off. The yogi somehow quieted the disturbed young man with the sheer serenity of his demeanor, the beatitude of his aura. That was a quality she was still seeking to emulate, but so far, her efforts to do so were less than satisfactory.
Studying in India with Swami had increased her expertise and enhanced her reputation. It had been costly to travel there, to work under the celebrated master for free, to wash his dirty undergarment, clean the often dusty ashram, eat sparingly, and stretch her meager savings. But it was worth it. Swami Mondra was a legend, and even in this country his was a revered name in yoga circles. To be both African-American and his protégé was awesome.
Now that she was back in New York City, students both white and black had flocked to her classes and had sometimes even begged to be allowed into them when they were full. But popularity meant her classes were often overloaded, crowded with bodies. The owner of the studio was pleased, had even given her a substantial bonus. Yet the sheer number of students made it harder for her to give them the careful, individual attention they deserved. Still she tried her best.
Despite her years of yoga training, she often became tense and agitated when people insulted her or were otherwise hostile. She was a role model in the yoga studio, generally tried to maintain a calm and serene manner, just as a yogi should. But the real world—and particularly her personal life—posed challenges that taxed her beyond endurance, even now.
…..read more May 1st!!