Everyone has private fantasies they keep tucked away, deep inside. So deep, they are hidden from the world and their public facade. I bring my deepest fantasies to life by weaving them into stories about lovable characters who engage in some very naughty activities.
As a life-long resident of Los Angeles currently living in Texas, I wanted to to create a character who is taking the opposite journey – moving from small-town Southern life into the fast-paced, often dog-eat-dog society of Los Angeles. And that’s how Layla Joy and her story were conceived.
Let’s Get To Know Evangeline
Q: What’s the funniest thing a reader has ever said/emailed to you?
A: “Do you write all your sex scenes from personal experience?”
Q: If you could go back in time before you published your first book, what advice would you give yourself about publishing?
A: You should have done this years ago! It’s been a wonderfully rich and varied experience.
Q: What’s your favorite AND least favorite thing about being a writer/author?
A: I love creating characters and their worlds, but I really wish I could do it without having to spend such long stretches of time doing it in solitude.
About Sunset Strip by Evangeline
Sunset Strip is the second book in the Layla Joy series. Layla Joy is a small-town girl with a past she wants to forget. Now that she’s left Texas in her rear-view, she’s finding that life in Los Angeles isn’t quite as glamorous as she had imagined.
She’s lucky to have found a job as a waitress in a strip club, but it just barely pays the bills. When a customer follows her home one night and won’t take “no” for an answer, Layla Joy jumps in front of a passing car to beg for help. And that’s when she meets Isabelle, the mysterious beauty with the halo of white-blond hair who opens the doors to a whole new world of powerful men, high-priced escorts, and delightful new sexual adventures.
“Oh my God!” In the chaos of the moment, I forget all about my wide-eyed Texas rose act. “I’m so sorry! I’ll be right back with napkins!” I try to run to the bar, only I can’t move because the guy has his hand on my shoulder. Oh man, please don’t let this turn ugly.
“Give me that,” he says, taking the tray from my hand and setting it down on the table. “Are you ok? Did you hurt anything?”
I look up into the most beautiful, high-cheekboned, full-lipped face I have ever seen and my knees go weak. He puts his hand under my elbow.
“Those are some very tall heels for such a little girl. Let’s take a look.” He pulls out his chair, and I lower myself onto it, mesmerized by the perfection of the person in front of me. He touches both of my legs in turn, moving the joints around, feeling for swelling. The truth is that I’m fine, not hurt at all. Just very clumsy and, apparently, doomed to never quite get the hang of walking in these shoes.
“Are you a doctor or something?” I ask him.
“No, I just play one on T.V.” He looks up at me from his kneeling position and I giggle, despite my humiliation. “Well, you’re laughing, so you must not be in too much pain.” His smile breaks my heart into a million pieces.
“It’s just that you look like you’re about to propose to me…”
“Propose marriage?” His eyes search my face. “That’s not the worst idea I’ve heard today. But, maybe you should tell me your name first.”
I bite my lip and wonder if I should break the rules for him.
“My name is Emerald.”
“Emerald. Of course, because of your eyes. Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Jamison.” He extends his hand and it dawns on me that I’ve seen this face before.
“You’re Jamison Brooks!” I say it like it’s a fact that he’s unaware of. I’m star-struck, which is fitting, since he’s an actual movie star.
“Yeah, I am,” he says, rising. “Now, if you will point me in the direction of the men’s room…”
“Oh, I can take you there!” I spring up and turn to the men at the table. “I’m so sorry, ya’ll. I’ll have a bus boy here in a jiffy to clean this up, and I’ll be right back with another round, on me.”
Jamison offers me his arm. “Let’s make sure we both get there in one piece.”
We walk to the back of the club together, drawing envious and questioning looks from the nearly naked girls milling around. I want to shout, “I’m just showing him to the restroom!” But, that wouldn’t make any difference. As they say, haters gonna hate. So, I decide to ignore them and just go ahead and enjoy my brush with Hollywood, thank you very much.
“By the way, nice transition,” he says, winking at me.
I raise my eyebrows at him, not understanding his meaning.
“The ‘y’all’ act? I approve.”
I shrug. “Well, you know…”
“Yeah. I know.” He locks eyes with me, and for a moment, we’re alone together, away from this gaudy club, just a man and a woman suspended in time and space. I’m tempted to ask him why someone like him would come to a dump like this, but I’ve already made myself look like enough of a loser for one night.
“It was very nice meeting you.” He shakes my hand again. “Emerald.”
I nod, and by the time I remember how to talk, he’s disappeared behind the door marked “Gentlemen.”
And, just like that, the magical feeling is gone. Once again, I’m just a waitress at The Rabbit’s Tail, with its red walls and its speakers thumping out a Rihanna song about whips and chains.
When I return to Jamison’s table with a new round of drinks, his chair is empty. The other three men have their attention fully focused on the girl currently owning the stage, and I can’t say I blame them.
She’s sitting on the edge of the stage, leaning back on her elbows, with her legs pointing up at the ceiling. She scissors her legs open and shut in time to the music, alternately revealing and hiding her heavily-pierced pussy. Instead of the usual bored and vacant expression most dancers wear, this one’s eyes simultaneously beg for and promise sex, and she looks at each man in turn as though he is the only one who can satisfy her hunger.
I’m fascinated by the metal rods and hoops that decorate the space between her legs. Some of the other girls here have told me how getting pierced makes them so much more sensitive and that because of it, they can come without any physical contact.
She opens her legs wide and rotates over, so that she’s sitting in a split position. Her hips come alive as she slowly humps the floor. Her head flung back and her lips forming an “o” shape, she gyrates her hips faster and harder, and when she looks at me, I can see that her pleasure is real. She holds my gaze. I feel myself rocking my own body in time to her movements. Even as the shudders of pleasure ripple through her, she keeps her eyes on mine. I swear I can feel her coming as surely as if our bodies were tightly intertwined.
My favorite quote from Sunset Strip is:
“Are you a doctor or something?” I ask him.
“No, I just play one on T.V.” He looks up at me from his kneeling position and I giggle, despite my humiliation.