Chloe Stowe's Blog: The Words and Madness of Chloe Stowe - Posts Tagged "preview"

Ah! Hellesgate, Kansas. What a twisted little town of derangement and love my chemically imbalanced brain has wrought.

Have you missed it? Have you had a hankering for a tall cold glass of Bingham’s hard lemonade? Or how about a nice warm mug of the Eastons’ apple cider? Has the sight of thistles blowing in the wind given you cause to check over your shoulder for wispy, green-eyed stalkers? Does just the thought of a single malt scotch have you diving for a fire extinguisher and an elephant gun?

If you answered yes to any of the above questions I kiss your feet and offer you my therapist’s card with the sequel.

Honestly though, I never thought I would be returning to Hellesgate. What a weird and totally incomprehensible honor it was to be asked back. Yes, there were tears. However, I stand by my emotions with my bottles of Prozac proudly by my side.

Writing a sequel is hard. There are so many expectations, in my case mostly internal. I wanted to be true to the characters but not have their stories turn stale. I wanted my readers to feel when they picked up Blow Torch like old friends were visiting them – old friends with heart-wrenching and soul-gladdening surprises being held secretly behind their backs.

Most of all, I didn’t want to disappoint.

I hope I haven’t.

Hellesgate is such a town rich with potential storylines that I really, really hope I picked the right ones to follow. I trust my readers to tell me if I have.

This time we delve into Cane Summerfield’s past. In Torched, we learned that the Iraqi war veteran had been horribly scarred emotionally from his experience in the Middle East. In Blow Torch, we learn the how’s, the why’s and, most importantly, the therefore’s.

“War is hell… and sometimes it follows a man home.”

To whet your appetite for the sequel which should be arriving to bookstands within the next two or three weeks, here is the chapter index for Blow Torch. Hope it teases and tickles you a little…

Prologue… Iraq
Chapter One… A Good Day
Chapter Two… Oranges
Chapter Three… Sahara
Chapter Four… A Tarnished Star
Chapter Five… May Day
Chapter Six… Guns and Floods
Chapter Seven… Blindsided
Chapter Eight… Born of Guilt
Chapter Nine… Done
Epilogue… A Better Day

Well, until my cover is ready for your perusal, I will leave you all with my heart-filled thanks for reading this rambling of mine. Once again, I invite you all to return with Matthew Archer and Cane Summerfield to Hellesgate, Kansas. It will be a trip full of passion, lust, greed, revenge and toe-curling romance. It will be a trip you will never forget.

Sincerely,
Chloe Stowe

Welcome one and all to the Shafts of Torchlight Preview Event, an 8 day blogging extravaganza that is part sneak peek, part mental illness expose and part “laugh until you cry” or “cry until you laugh” madness brought to you by Chloe Stowe.

As keen holiday aficionados may have already guessed, this event has latched onto Santa’s eight tiny reindeer as its titling theme. Original? Not very, but I think it should be fun. A little dash of holiday magic is always welcome in my world.

Shall we get right to it then?

Synopsis first…


It’s Christmas night in Hellesgate, Kansas and all the world is bright.
Former New York real estate mogul Matthew Archer and injured war hero Cane Summerfield are enjoying their first holiday season together with their adopted daughter, Sahara. While the men had endured many hardships on their paths to discovering one another, their lives had finally grown peaceful while their love had only grown more vibrant…

But when you have everything, you have everything to lose.

An estranged family member with a heart of ice, a buried past that lives in a murderer’s hungry gaze, memories born of sweet violence and delicious pain… all must be met and overcome for Matthew and Cane to keep the lives and the love for which they have fought so fiercely.

However… when the path is darkest, it takes only the smallest shafts of light to lead a man home again.


As always, every day you will get a chapter title and a tiny little excerpt from that chapter. Be careful, sometimes I like to lead you astray with my choice of excerpts. I’ve got to leave some surprises for the actual novel, after all. *evil mad scientist laugh… or, in this case, mad novelist laugh*


Prologue: A Guileless Voyeur

“Rain slapped the window. The reflection of the Eiffel Tower in the glass lost all definition melting into just a stain of orange light.
“Please,” a man’s voice broke with the lightning.” (page 1)


Shafts of Torchlight was a joy to write. It was like slipping into your favorite pair of pajamas and sharing a glass of wine with an old, treasured friend. It is the third book in the Hellesgate Series, a series of novels that follow the ever-deepening relationship between former New York real estate shark Matthew Archer and Iraq War veteran Cane Summerfield. Shafts of Torchlight follows Torched and Blow Torch.

This series really resonates deeply within me as the character Cane suffers from PTSD. His battles are often a reflection of some of my mine (particularly his fight with panic attacks). I love the idea that the former soldier is able to find breathtaking love with another. Maybe this whole series is my guilty pleasure? I don’t know, but I don’t think I’ll apologize even if it is.

Two more novels in the Hellesgate Series are already in the pipeline so expect Matthew and Cane to follow you well into the new year!

This go-around I’m adding a little something extra to each of these blog posts. As I’ve chosen Santa’s 8 reindeer as my title them, I thought it was only fair to give each reindeer a little time in the romantic smut limelight. So, as I’m not too up on the ins and outs of reindeer sex, I decided to make each of the little fellas’ names a codename for a World War II soldier / spy / combatant, you get the picture. Yes, I am boldly stroking my historical romance tendencies with this, but it’s actually turned out really well and the seed of a novel has been planted in this heavily medicated brain of mine. Scary, I know.

So without further adieu or nonsense, here’s your first WWII reindeer game.

I imagine Dasher to be…


A brave WWII soldier who has been dropped behind enemy lines to set up a line of communications with resistance fighters. Finally, after a week of breathless escapes from the enemy, he manages to set up an old-fashioned telegraph network. The dots and dashes of morse code soon fill the wires. The resistance will survive but will our young Dasher?...


Keep a careful eye on each of these guys because their stories just might begin to interweave.

Now, I will let you get back to your holiday madness as my madness is calling me to pop a few Prozac. I hope you enjoyed!

Until tomorrow…

Chloe Stowe

Good morning one and all. I hope Day Two has found you festively bedecked in both mind and spirit. If not allow me the pleasure of festooning you with holiday cheer and sleigh bells in the snow… or I could just get to the smut and allow any further festooning to be done by your own hand. *winks*


Chapter One: Slow and Dirty Kisses on Cocoa Flavored Lips

“The closet was dark. Cane had intentionally left the overhead light off when he had shoved a lost-looking, quickly fraying Matthew into the tiny room. He had thought that the less distractions the better, not realizing that Matthew was looking for a fight. The fact that the fight Matthew chose was with their hanging wardrobe had Cane wanting to bang his head repeatedly on their tie rack.” (page 15)


Whew! Now don’t we all feel better now that we’ve got a little romance/sex in the closet under our belts? I know it always loosens up these crazy bones of mine. Insanity is always better when you’re flexible.

Today is a shaky day. One of those days when my orange juice arrives at my mouth shaken not stirred. My elbows and knees are as weak as lemmings and my thoughts are bouncing and zinging around my head like kernels of corn in a popcorn maker. It’s real fun in Stowe-land this morning and all I want to do is to crawl under a ton of covers and take a long winter’s nap…

Sometimes mental illness is crap, folks.

So you’ll excuse me if today’s blog is a little jumpy and short. Fear not, however, you will still get your reindeer game of the day! I would never leave your imaginations hanging. *smiles*

I imagine Dancer to be…

A spy. In the dance halls of Vienna, he spins war widows around the parquet floors, offering both a shoulder and an ear to their woes. With their husbands away to the front, the women are hungry for warmth, companionship and illicit love. Dancer offers it all to them… in return for a secret shared here and there. Dancer’s male lover awaits him stateside. Will the young spy return to his old love or will a new Viennese heart waltz our hero away?

Well, that’s it for today. I wish you an afternoon of sturdy elbows and knees and little or no popcorn-ing grey matter.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe Stowe

Day One has been thrust upon us with nary a warning, like a blizzard that jumps out from behind the innocent looking mountains yelling “Surprise!” in Icelandic tongues. Well, grab your parkas and your mittens, folks. This is going to be one heck of a super slalom-esque previewing ride!

Ready?

Here we go!

Stripped Asset is my 10th published novel, and honestly it is one of my very favorites. The characters of Heath and Lachlan just wrote themselves, weaving a simple romantic tale into a dynamic, hopefully unforgettable read. Here’s why (in lovely synopsis/sell copy form)…


Love is rarely played more beautifully than to the heartfelt strings of sacrifice…

Thirty-two year old Lachlan Hayes is a successful Hollywood screenwriter who’s just bought a beautiful but neglected house on the sea. Words are his life; imagination his playground. But he’s never known love as more than a meeting of hungry bodies in the night.

Heath Isles is a twenty-seven year old landscape architect whose every moment is spent fighting for custody of his little brother. The work that pays for this legal battle is Heath’s life, giving his brother the future he deserves is his calling. But Heath’s never known true love as more than a common prelude to a common divorce.

When Lachlan hires Heath to renovate his beachfront property, a passion fierce and playful is alighted and a romance true and embattled is born.

Theirs is a story of irony, a story of when surrendering to the odds is love’s only hope of survival.

Theirs is a tale of a sacrifice made and kept.

Theirs is a song of hope and happy endings.


Excuse me while I bounce around in utter excitement. Please feel free to join in. The more bouncers the merrier, I always say. *grins*

Tomorrow, I will give you all the chapter titles and their excerpts in one grand rush of previewing goodiness. (I, too, am having to hurriedly throw on the gloves and big furry boots. The blizzard is unexpectedly barreling down on me as well… Ahh, the publishing world!)

As for all my faithful blog readers who have been following the escapades of my teetering mental health, an update awaits you tomorrow as well. I’d add more today but a good portion of my working brain matter leaked out of my head this morning as Tuesdays and I rarely get along. Don’t ask. I don’t have a heck of a clue as to why. You know, somebody could write a darn fine doctorate thesis on the mysterious mis-workings of my mind. Anything for science after all, right?

Well, I will leave you here for today. I hope everyone is well kitted out in their winter wear as the eye of the previewing blizzard hits tomorrow!

Until then…

Chloe Stowe and her enigmatic brain

“The air was thick with sweat and beer.” (page 1)

Welcome to the -Cock Fight- Dailies, a 13 day blogging event to celebrate the release of my 11th novel, Cock Fight!

For you old hands at this, you’ll notice that I’m trying something a little different this go around. The title of each day’s blog will be one of the chapter titles from the novel. Immediately following is an excerpt from that chapter, a tease as to what you can expect when you pick up Cock Fight. The accompanying blog will somehow incorporate either the excerpt or the title into its daily theme.

I’d love to hear feedback, so please don’t hesitate to comment. I will gladly respond to each one, hopefully honing my response skills to razor sharpness (a skill, I’m sure, will come in handy in case of petulance, plague or other Biblical-sized disasters that might come calling).

Now, let’s get this party started!

Cages have always interested me. I think they interest us all in some manner. I, however, will not attempt to speak for everyone. This is all me, a woman heavily medicated for chronic panic attacks the last 20 years, a woman crazy in love with life in spite of being stuck in the quicksand of mental illness. So, please feel free to color your opinion of me and my thoughts in this light. I don’t mind.

The concept of cages is intriguing. They are meant to keep a person from moving from a spot but not to stop them from moving. Struggle and crawl and claw all you like. There’s no way in hell you’re making it to that door you can see across the room that means freedom. It’s a particular kind of cruel.

I’m sure a lot of my “regulars” know where I’m going with this. Mental illness is a cage. It’s bars of steel around your brain. Worse yet, they’re invisible bars; no one can see them and only you can feel them. Unfortunately, half the time people won’t believe in what they can’t see. Imagine half of the world standing outside your jail cell constantly taunting you to come on outside and play. Some even throw little trinkets of affection at you, promising you more if you’d just slip between those bars.

Yeah, color me bitter. But color me so lightly.

There are so many other crayons, brighter more beautiful crayons coloring my life. Look behind the bars and you’ll see them. Periwinkle, cornflower, copper, magenta, meadow, marigold… they’re all there. Sometimes, you just have to look deep within the cage’s shadows to find them.

I will leave you here for today wishing you cornflower blue skies out your window or between your bars, whichever the case may be.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe Stowe

Prologue: The Storm Gloats as the Dead Man Sleeps
“The candlelight was failing.” (page 1)

And so it begins… and ends.

No, no, nobody rush to dial 9-1-1. My mental “irregularities” have not taken me to that point. I am talking storylines here, folks. I’m talking characters who have been living inside of my head for over a year and a half. I am talking Hellesgate, Kansas closing up its shop windows and everybody going back home.

*sighs*

My thirteenth novel, A Torch Kept, concluding the Hellesgate Series will be released this Thursday, September 20 by Ravenous Romance. It is the fifth installment of the first series I have ever written. Talk about bittersweet…

*kicks herself in the butt*

My THIRTEENTH novel!! Wow, ok, just wow! Who’d have thunk it? Certainly not my ninth grade English teacher. Hah! Stick that in your ear, Mr. James.

*slaps herself hard on the side of the head and checks that the meds have been taken on schedule*

Getting back to business… May I please welcome you to Day One of Hellesgate’s Long Goodbye. In short, we’re calling this puppy ATK (A Torch Kept) Day 1. Yes, this is a twitter-ification. Ahh, I wonder what Mr. James has to say about Twitter-ese? I can hear his teeth grinding right now. Hee-hee.

*checks warning labels on meds for “bitter-laced childhood regression”*

Moving quickly on… For anybody new to this little venture I have dubbed preview blogging, here’s what you can expect in the next five days. Every day you’ll get a blog entry complete with 2 chapter titles and 2 tiny excerpts from each chapter of A Torch Kept (out this Thursday, did I mention?). Along with these juicy tidbits, my blog of the day’s subject matter will be based on that days titles or excerpts. Got it? If not, don’t sweat it. Just follow along and you’ll get the swing of things real soon.

Hardcore fans might notice that I’m doubling up on the titles and excerpts this time around. Well, release day kind of happened a lot quicker than I had thought, so, yes, I’ve essentially been caught with my pants down… Yes, appropriate for a smut writer, I know.

No worries, though. You will still get your fill of author trivia, hysteria, manic thoughts and chicanery. Our ride might be short this time, my friends, but damn will it be bumpy!

To start things off with a roar, I am proud to present to you the back cover blurb to my THIRTEENTH novel, A Torch Kept…


Six years have passed since a lone house burning on the Kansas horizon brought Matthew Archer into Cane Summerfield’s life. The love of the New York real estate mogul and the wounded Iraqi War hero has steadily burned brighter with each passing year, enveloping marriage, parenthood, tragedy and triumph.

Nothing, however, had prepared the lovers for Memphis.

The last Archer brother has been found.

Matthew and Cane travel to Tennessee, hoping to finally reunite their fractured family. But Fate has other plans.

The final story of the Hellesgate Series has been written. Endings are had, beginnings made. Who will survive the storm that is life?

It is said that a torch kept alight through a storm will burn forever. Is love such a fire when death is the night?



Intense, huh? Got you circling Thursday on your calendar with a big red pen, right? This one is super good, ladies and gentlemen. You’re going to love it.

And never fear, just because Hellesgate might be shuttering its doors and windows doesn’t mean Chloe Stowe is cutting a trail. I am thrilled to announce that I have just signed with Ravenous to write my 14th novel… a novel which you’ll get the name and a sneak peek of at the end of ATK Days.

Yes, that’s right, Mr. James, my 14th novel… Put that in your pipe and smoke it!

Until tomorrow, when hopefully clearer heads will prevail…

Chloe Stowe

Chapter One: The Riot of Silence
“Dimas Cabral slept. The dreams, as always, came quickly and vibrantly. Being a strange cocktail of memory, fantasy, and something much more, Dimas never tried to understand them. He simply imbibed them hungrily, hoping to wake hours later punch-drunk with the taste of Alanyo on his lips.” (page 14)

Chapter One: Snoopy in the Sky
“It was Thanksgiving morning in San Francisco. Crisp and clear, the sky was a spectacular blue. The last tendrils of fog had scampered away with the first rays of the late November sun.” (page 1)


I press my ear to the frosted window and smile. A Chloe Stowe first-liner always brings an appreciative sigh from the world, an “Ahh, finally!” that I cherish with all my sweetest delusions of grandeur…

*cough, cough, a swift kick to my ass*

Yeah, well, reality sucks tunas, so while I peel my stupid ear lobe off of the icy glass, you can take the time to settle in for five days of festive preview blogging! Yes, it’s that time again, folks. A brand new Chloe Stowe novel is outracing Santa down your chimneys this year.

Miracle on Lombard Street, my 14th novel, will be released this week! Specific date is still up in the air, but when I know, you’ll know.

Of course that means I’m going to start talking again. Yapping up the airwaves. Chatting your ears off – speaking of ears, does anybody have a band-aid and some industrial strength Windex? Even the tiniest of psychotic breaks can be darn messy.

So, here I am- delusions, tunas and all!

For the next five days, I will be blogging daily, teasing each of my readers with a chapter title and an excerpt from my very first, full-length Christmas novel. Today, you’ve already gotten “Snoopy in the Sky” and as always the first lines of my newest work. If that isn’t enough to set your toes a-tingling, you will also be getting the juicy blurb. Now whose champagne is fizzing and popping and cranking out a chorus of Jingle Bells?

Sorry. I’m sick as a dog right now so my normally skewed mind is even a little more screwy this morning. Unfortunately, with the big meds I’m on for my chronic panic disorder, cold meds are out of the picture. Talk about sucking tunas big time… yeah, I don’t know what it is with the tunas today either. Seems a little fishy to me. *grins*

Without further adieu, or marine creatures of any kind, here is your blurb…


Taking its cue from the classic “Miracle on 34th Street,” Miracle on Lombard Street is a modern take on the wondrous story of the holiday magic born of the words “I believe.”
Balthazar Macy believes his suspicions are correct. No matter how much Skule Winters denies it, the old man is indeed Santa Claus. All he has to do is prove it.
Joseph Macy believes that life is bitterly unfair. There is only one thing in the world that he trusts implicitly: the love of his little brother. And Joseph will do everything to protect the autistic boy he alone is entrusted in raising.
Davin Clarke believes that life is good. Troubles are only hurdles needed to be negotiated cleanly to reach better, greener pastures. He, however, has never met a hurdle quite like Joseph Macy.
Skule Winters believes. What it is that the old man believes in, however, only a boy by the name of Balthazar will be able to bring to light.
As Christmas dawns on these men’s lives, a fiery love, a forgotten faith and a touch of magic will greet them.


If you were to press your ear to the chilled window pane right now, you really would hear my appreciative sigh. No delusions necessary. *smiles*

Tomorrow I hope to have more substance to share. I’m planning on dealing the knockout punch to my cold today, so I will be fresh and fish-free the next frosty morn… Ok, now I’m starting to alliterate. It is definitely time to let you go.

Until tomorrow, when clearer heads will prevail…

Chloe
Chloe Stowe

Chapter Two: Home Fires Burning

“As for Davin and Joe, blocks passed without a word being shared. The silence, however, was somehow warm and far from empty. There were brushes of shoulders, nudges of elbows and sparring of gazes. Neither man hid his attraction for the other. Far from it. They toyed with each other with everything but their tongues.” (page 53)


Bright and bushy-tailed (and a very fine bushy-tail, it is), I welcome one and all to Day Two of the Miracle on Lombard Street Preview Blogging Event.

For all concerned citizens, I am happy to say that my cold is better and survival is now a distinct possibility. Unfortunately, coughing fits still tackle me with no warning, sending my panic-challenged brain roaring back to bad, bad days. But no worries, I will not allow a simple cold to take me and my sanity out. No way. No how… and if that sounds like some “buck it up” motivational cheerleading on my part, I plead the fifth.

Moving on…

Negotiations are currently underway as to the exact date of Miracle on Lombard Street’s release. All indications indicate that the big day will be Monday and Tuesday of next week. Once these high-level, heated, boardroom discussions are complete I will pass the final decision on to you… please insert completely non-sarcastic smile here.

The image of “home fires burning” has been particularly poignant for me this week. As noted above, I’ve been battling some briar-filled memories this last week. To put it simply, I don’t do sick. Any kind of sick. Injury? Bring it on. Sniffles? You’ll find me hiding under my bed.

Please don’t stuff me into that Cowardly Lion costume too quickly, however. I’m not as big of a baby as I may appear. Really.

When I was eleven, in the first major appearance of my panic disorder in my life, I convinced myself that I was dying. My heart was giving out. It was either beating too slow, too fast or too irregularly for me to survive. I was convinced with every fiber of my soul that I would not live to see my fourteenth birthday.

I was terrified, absolutely scared to death. For hours, I’d sit with my hand on my chest, counting the heartbeats, sure that I was about to feel my last one.

As the months dragged on and my fear escalated, I would make myself so nervous that my heart would start to actually beat erratically. An extra thump here, a missing thump there assured me that I was going to die.

Guess what?

I didn’t.

And every year on my birthday, I thank God that I made it to fourteen. I have vowed never to complain about getting older. Every decade that I see is an unexpected blessing, a cherished event that leaves me saying “Wow!”

Unfortunately, this habit of my body’s to go along with whatever freaked out thing my mind is thinking at the time has not dissipated with the years or the meds. For instance, if I convince myself that every time I cough I will puke, well then, every time I cough, I puke. Done deal… that is until I can convince my mind otherwise.

Silly, isn’t it?

Stupid, certainly.

Sad? Yeah, sometimes it is just sad.

And sometimes all I find myself saying, with no clear logic attached, “I just want to go home.”

Bright and bushy-tailed, I do indeed write this blog to you. The panic has faded again, and I find myself already home.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe Stowe
Chloe Stowe

Chapter Four: The Russian Ballet
“Maybe.” Like a long, smoldering fire that never really went completely out, mischief once again electrified the blue in his eyes. “If you rub my belly.” (page 83)

As the release day for my first full-length Christmas novel nears (Monday or Tuesday, folks), I find myself giddy with excitement, twirling around on my toes like a Nutcracker ballerina…

Well, ok, maybe Nutcracker is not exactly the right word to describe a m/m romance writer. While I might do a lot to my men’s jewels, I have never, ever cracked a single nut bedecking their groins. Fondle, manhandle, bathe with an appreciative lover’s tongue, sure. Cracking, no.

I’m a lover, not a cracker.

*roll my eyes and groan*

Apparently giddiness translates into bad, bad writing in the Chloe Stowe world. Sorry. I’ll try to restrain myself from now on.

To celebrate the Friday before a late December release, I’m celebrating by giving everyone a sneak peek at the Miracle on Lombard Street cover!

Please, keep the squeals of delight to a minimum. We don’t want to scare any eavesdropping elves (try saying that one thrice, *grins*).

So without further adieu, or ballerina analogies, I give you my latest cover…

(please see chloestowe.com)

Jolly, ain’t it? *smiles*

Spread the word and spread the Santa, Chloe and her much beloved nuts are coming to town Monday (or Tuesday)!

Until tomorrow…

Chloe Stowe
Chloe Stowe

As Leslie Nielson is swallowed by a New Year’s wave and an upside down Christmas tree looms dangerously overhead, me, my dog and Frank welcome you to another morning at Chloe’s.

For those of you wondering who Frank is, well, long story short he’s the impending failure of Writhe. He showed up yesterday on my couch, hasn’t left and keeps asking for crumpets… See yesterday’s blog for all the gory details.

Now back to regular programming, which today is 1972’s “The Poseidon Adventure.” One of my all-time favorite disaster movies, this baby is a classic. Gene Hackman, Ernest Borgnine and Shelley Winters (in an amazing performance) all join the mayhem on the doomed ocean liner. Highly recommended piece of film history.

I have mostly recovered from yesterday’s unexpected shot of panic, so onward and upward we go!

While I still don’t have the exact release date for Writhe, I imagine it will be sometime next week or the week after. So, to get everybody’s blood hot and pleasantly jazzed for my 15th novel’s release, I’ll be tacking on to each post a little goodie I like to call… A Taste of Writhe.

Don’t worry. There will be no clowns, no banners whipping in the breeze. I’m not even expecting any confetti, although a little confetti is always welcome if you feel the need. *grins brightly*

A Taste of Writhe is simply a sentence-sized excerpt from each chapter. You’ll get one a day here (possibly two if the release date leaps up a little quicker than I expected). Tomorrow, the Taste of Writhe will be at the top of each post, but this morning I thought I’d ease you into all the spine-tingling excitement (note the sarcasm here).

So here we go! As is my custom, the first excerpt will be the first sentence of the novel. Please remember that Writhe is a contemporary romance. The past is only visited in the Prologue. Enjoy this tiny taste of Writhe!

Prologue:

“On a bright winter’s day in 1787, Caspar, a boy of just thirteen, stood at the edge of a frozen lake and cried.” (page 1)

Until tonight…

Chloe