An Interview with Rainy Kaye Author of Summoned
Today I’m excited to welcome Rainy Kaye the author of Summoned to my blog. Rainy stopped by to answer some questions for us and share an excerpt from Summoned for all my friends out there in the blogsphere! For those of you interested in winning a$50 Amazon gift card click on the tour banner above to be taken to the giveaway page.
Welcome Rainy!
How did your personal experiences influence Summoned?
Besides the last fifteen years of tinkering with words? Or the random fascination the jinn stories? I’ve also lived my entire life in Dimitri’s hometown, Phoenix, and I’ve visited the places the wishes send him.
Did you do a lot of research before or during writing Summoned?
No. And if you read the book, you’ll know just how bad admitting that in public is.
If Summoned was made into a movie, who would you cast as Dimitri & Syd?
My cover model, Adam Jakubowski, portrays Dimitri spot-on. At the moment, I have a difficult time picturing anyone else in that role.
For Syd, I have no idea. Readers, leave your suggestions in the comment. This will be fun. 
What was your favorite book as a child?
Like, a wee child? The Fox and the Hound. I don’t know why. I think because it had a puppy. I was a very profound child. Or not. Either way, I had the gist of it memorized, aided by pictures, before I learned to read. As soon as I learned to read, I realized it was crap and moved on to books where stuff gets obliterated. Never looked back.
What’s on the horizon for you?
Three more standalone Summoned books, a ten-book series called Fly into the Dark, and a few other novels wedged into the nooks and crannies of my brain. In short, a lot more coffee.
Find Rainy on the Web:
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/rainyofthedark
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/rainyofthedark
Blog: http://www.rainyofthedark.com
GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20624580-summoned?ac=1
BookLikes: http://booklikes.com/book/5476398/summoned-rainy-kaye
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/summonedtheseries
Summoned by Rainy Kaye An Excerpt
Doctor Phillip Ballantyne prattles on for a quarter past forever, but the clock lies and shows it has only been two hours. My ass is numb. I never sit this long except when I’m scoping a mark or owning on a first-person shooter. With the latter, at least I have an awesome chair.
These conference seats could get a confession from the innocent.
I head for the door, then realize I’m a moron. No going back to my hotel yet. I pat my pockets like I lost something, though most people are busy politely shoving through the crowd out the exit, and make my way back to my Guantanamo special edition chair.
Phil—I hope I can call him Phil—is standing to the side of the podium conversing with some women from the audience. They are talking in rapid excitement, even giggling. My boy here is a regular Tommy Lee.
He glances up and his gaze lands on me. His grin is so wide he looks like a damn Jack-o’-lantern.
“Hello, hello!” He comes toward me, arm outstretched.
I pull to my feet and shake his hand, squeezing a little too hard accidentally on purpose. His flinch is quickly subdued.
He talks like every sentence ends with an exclamation mark. “I hope you found my conference enlightening! I haven’t seen you at the others! If you enjoyed it, I will be holding another one next month in Houston!”
I give my temple a short rub with my palm and try to vomit up some sunshine right back. “It was excellent, uh, Phil.”
“Doctor,” he says, with a reprimanding raised eyebrow.
“Doctor. Yes, Doctor.” I struggle to find the next words. “Your piece on the Canary Islands was quite . . . brilliant.”
The women have gathered around us, and they nod and move in closer until we’re all such close buddies. Wouldn’t be surprised if we started holding hands and singing Kumbaya.
“Have you read my work?” He’s still grinning at me.
I have an urge to shove the barrel of my gun into his mouth.
“Uh, no, I have not,” I say, then add, “but I have been meaning to.”
If I worked the conversations with ladies at the bars this well, I really would be a virgin still.
“Oh, there’s a table out in pre-function. I’ll let Doris know to send you home with a copy of my books. Here, let me give you my info.” He slips out his wallet, grabs a business card, and hands it to me. “It has my email and phone number.”
His tone is like he just gave me directions to Jesus’ tomb. The women are not-so-discreetly trying to sneak a peek. Just to be a jerk, I fold the card in half and stuff it in my front pocket.
“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll let you know how I enjoy the books.”
“Yes, please do.” He clasps my shoulder and leads me away from Team Phil. He lowers his voice. “We are opening up internships this summer, and I would be delighted if you would apply. It’s a marvelous opportunity to get first-hand experience and network.”
I still don’t even know what Phil does, besides talk about people who whistle like canaries or something.
But I play along by nodding and saying, “I’ll do that. Should I email you for details when I get home?”
“Yes, yes. At your first chance,” he says. “Let me know, and I’ll put in a personal recommendation for you.”
If I didn’t already hate Phil for being a wife beater, I would be happy to off him just because he oozes so much goodwill he must keep the heads of children in his basement. Yin and yang.
“Great, thank you.” I nonchalantly pull away from his grasp, then add in a casual tone, “So, you headed home now?”
He chuckles, though he sounds tired. I have a solution for this. A permanent one.
“Not heading home until tomorrow. Drinks with some of the other professors first, then back to my hotel for the night.” He shakes my hand again. “It was good meeting you, um, what was your name?”
“Ralf,” I say, and it amuses me that a guy named Ralf is going to have a gun to his forehead in a few hours.
I would like to ask him what bar he will be visiting or what hotel he is staying at, but both questions pose a risk of sounding alarming. I’ll do it the traditional way then.
We have a long night of hanging out—Phil.
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