New Romance Erotica by Author Jai Elle Mitchell

 Welcome to today’s guest  Jai Elle Mitchell, erotic romance author,  from Nashville Tennessee.   We also get to meet her character Peyton  Gilbrad from her latest book,  “Diamonds Aren’t Forever”.   J. L gives us a peek at the character’s personality and personal life.  Do we learn any secrets?  Keep reading and find out.     

You can find links to purchase her new book release, books and/or series below, along with other contact links for social media and her blogs.



J. L. is a landlocked beach bum, living in a small, rural town near Nashville, Tennessee; where she was born and raised. She loves taking road trips just as long as that road winds up taking her to the beach.

As a lefty, her earliest memories are of trying art in some form or other. She settled on writing and was hooked from an early age. Yet, it doesn’t come easy. As a child, J.L. spoke, as well as wrote backwards. Her mind is like a mirror, writing from right to left. Turning letters backwards as well. She’s been told it’s some form of dyslexia, but she takes it as just another aspect of who she is.

She’s a voracious reader of most fiction with murder, mystery, and suspense among her favorites. She also loves literary works like, Victorian literature; Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier and The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins. J.L. prefers noir films, like the Thin Man series, Maltese Falcon, andCasablanca; and her all-time favorite; Alfred Hitchcock’s 1940 version of Rebecca.

J. L. can be found most days writing, proofing manuscripts, and writing book reviews.  When she’s not working she’s spending time with her family.


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Book Genre:  Erotica

This Character Sketch Interview Rated G: Suitable for all audiences

Diamond Series Book 1 by Jai Elle Mitchell

 Character Interview: Diamonds Aren’t Forever’s Peyton Gilbrad

Peyton thank you for taking time out of your busy writing schedule to be with us here today. I understand you’re working on a new novel, and that your previous novels are selling well. But for all that, your readers know very little about the real you.

“I’m a private person.” Peyton’s mouth lifted in a tight smile.

I understand, but… I shift closer, placing my hand on her arm, squeezing it comfortably… your readers are dying to get to know you. I’ll begin with something simple. I leaned back, settling comfortably in my chair. Tell us a little about your family and friends. Where were you born?

“Um… I guess Atlanta.”  Peyton looked towards the window. She hated talking about her childhood, but knew it was part of the process.

You guess. What does your birth certificate say?

Peyton lifted her shoulders in a shrug, “I’ve never seen my birth certificate.”

I clear my throat slightly, switching gears. So your earliest memories are of living in Atlanta.

“Yes.” Peyton shifted uncomfortably.

Have you lived anywhere else?


Is it safe to say you call that place home?

Peyton paused. Until she met Sebastian and Thierry, she would have said yes, but they were home. No matter if they were Georgia or Louisian. Home was with them. But she wasn’t going to tell the interviewer that. “Yes.”

Who’s your closest friend?

Peyton fell back in her chair, as the interviewer shot out that question. It was a no brainer, Shelbie. But should she include her friend’s name? What if there was fallout? Mentally kicking herself for thinking the worst, she forged ahead. “Shelbie, really I’d have to include Amalia and Arabella as well. We’re more like sisters than just friends.”

Oh, so all of you lived in close proximity to one another.

“Yes, you can say that.” Peyton dragged the words out.”

I lean closer. Maybe I was on to something. Tell me, when you think of your childhood kitchen, what smells do you associate with it?

“Before or After I went into the foster system?” Peyton watched the interviewer flinch at her stinging reply. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Can we skip this question.

Sure. I look down at my notes, wondering what she’s hiding. Maybe now was a good time to ask… No, I’d save that question for last. Look at your feet. Describe what you see there.

Peyton lifted her left leg, swinging it out before crossing it back over her right leg.“Right now, I’m wearing black pumps.”

Sorry, I say, laughing… By the way, love your top. The coral brings out the honey highlights in your hair. I give her my best smile. I really mean it, but I need her at ease as well. Now, where were we. Oh, yes. Think of a normal day. Do you polish your toes? What do you usually wear?

“Thank you for the compliment. And, that’s easy, I’m usually barefoot. I have a silver toe ring on my second toe on my right foot. And I use polish only in the summer. Right now it’s purple, lavender actually.”

I love toe rings. What’s the design?

“Dolphins.” Peyton’s mouth lifted in a genuine smile.

Is that significant?

“No. I just thought the ring was cute and purchased it.”

Oh. I blink a couple of times. I hoped she was really opening up to me. I shift my eyes back to my questions. This isn’t going where I want. Maybe I’ll get her with this next question. I push on.

Where do you go when you get angry?

“To my loft to write.”

I wait a few beats. That’s it? Nothing more? I open my mouth to ask if her temper is volatile, but think better of it. If I push too hard now, she may not answer the question I so want the answer to.

What is in your refrigerator right now?

Peyton cocked her head. The interviewer was really switching gears. Do I want to tell her about my two guys, and that the fridge is filled with beer, sour cream and butter for Bastian’s recipes? She pressed her palm to her mouth, stifling a laugh. Or how much I eat now to keep up my strength after hours of making love with the two of them? She shook her head. “Just some yogurt, boiled eggs, lettuce, cheese, chicken, you know the usual stuff.”

So, you try to eat healthy.

“Ha.” Peyton barked out a laugh that reminded her so much of Sebastian’s. “Somewhat. I must confess. I smother my salads with cheese and homemade dressing.

What kind.

“Anything that is mayonnaise based.”

I laugh. Sounds like my kind of salads too… I give her that smile. The one that says we have something in common. I hope it works… Okay. Tell me, what’s on your bedroom floor? On your nightstand? In your garbage can?

Peyton’s brow arched. Really getting personal now. She took a deep breath. “Dust.”

Excuse me, I say before she can go on.

I don’t leave clothes lying about. But, that doesn’t mean I’m the best housekeeper, unless I’m stuck on a scene. So, what’s on my hardwood floor in my bedroom is dust. T… I mean I need to get out the Swiffer and dust the floors.”


Peyton waits for the next question, then realizes there were two more. “On the nightstand, a lamp, pad, and pen.” She holds up her hand before the interviewer can ask. “On both nightstands.” She taps her fingers on the arm of the chair. “Garbage, garbage, garbage. Hmm.” She glanced at the interviewer. “Let’s just say garbage and leave at that.”

Just tell me one insignificant item, like your favorite takeout.


Would you like more coffee? I ask, giving her a little break.

“No, I’m good. How much longer,” Peyton asked, checking her watch. “I’m meeting Bas… I have a meeting in an hour.”

Not much… I smile inwardly. I’d like to hear more about this Bas, but don’t press… Tell me, if you were spring cleaning, what would you throw out? What is difficult to part with? Why?

“I dislike clutter, so papers, magazines, books I’ve read. I get rid of them right away.”

Peyton paused. She wasn’t going to discuss items she couldn’t part with. They were things that belonged to Tee and Bastian. Tee’s T-shirt she wore when writing sex scenes filled her mind and senses. The collar was ragged and worn, one sleeve was ripped at the seam, and it had more holes in it than Swiss cheese. She made Tee wear it for a day after she washed it, where his scent would surround her. Or Bastian’s natty potholders. They were scorched, battered, and smelled, but they were so much a part of him, she’d never get rid of them. “Nothing. I’m not sentimental. Growing up in foster homes, you’re mobile.”

Mm hmm. She seemed to be ready to open up. If I push… No, not yet… It’s Saturday at noon. What are you doing?

Peyton choked on her coffee. She leaned forward, setting the cup down, wiping the back of her hand across her lips, composing her face, before settling back in the chair.

Are you okay? Is it too hot? Can I get you something else?

“No.” Peyton cleared her throat. “I’m fine. Thank you. It’s not too hot I tried to answer before I swallowed.” Her face reddened. She hoped the woman bought the lie. She was not about to blurt out, I sleep in on Saturdays, making love with my guys until noon. Nope, she wasn’t about to broadcast that to her readers. “Eating breakfast.”

That late, huh. What do you normally eat?

Peyton’s face reddened further, thinking of where her mouth normally was “Eggs, bacon, toast. I like to splurge on Saturday mornings.” Peyton fanned her heated cheeks That was an understatement. It was getting hot in here. Peyton glanced at her watch.

Just four more questions, and we’re done… You’re getting ready for a night out. Where do you go? What are you wearing, and who are you with?

More personal information. Peyton gave a watered down version. “I’m wearing my little blue dress. The material just above my breasts and shoulders is sheer, and matching heeled sandals. I’m eating at Bellas Bistro Bar in Atlanta, and I’m with Shelbie, Amalia and her husband, Enrique.”

I’ve heard Bellas is great, but I’ve never been. What do you recommend?

“Her Portobello ravioli in a tomato cream sauce is my favorite.”

Sounds good. What is your biggest fear? Have you shared it with anyone? Who would you never tell it to? Why?

Memories of the time she almost got shot flooded her brain.

Peyton… I lean in, grasping her arm… are you all right?

Peyton shook off the woman’s hand, and the memory along with it. She took a deep breath. “Let’s move on,” she whispered.

I had her now. But I need her at ease. One more easy question. What makes you laugh out loud?

Peyton’s face softened. Seeing Bas and Thierry arguing over how to repair… anything. The look on the guys faces when she caught a six pound bass her first time fishing and theirs were no bigger than minnows. But those were private, personal. “Pranks. I used to tell my friend I was going to the bathroom at the mall, but I was really moving her car. We’d come out and the car wouldn’t be there. She fell for it three times before she caught on.”

Hahahahaha. That is funny. Tell us your most intimate secret… I rush on, hoping to catch her off guard.

My… Peyton stiffened, slammed her mouth shut. She’d almost spilled her guts. Her lips curved up. Laughter spilled from her lips, filling the room.  “You’re good. Maybe some day when were off the record, I’ll tell you.” Peyton uncrossed her legs, stood and sashayed out of the office. Bastan and Thierry were waiting.

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**Warning Book Contains***Adult Content. Suitable for audiences 18 and over. M/F/M erotic romance.

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