Jade C. Jamison's Blog, page 29

Cover Reveal for BOILING POINT (Feverish #1.5)

Here’s another book I’ve been promising readers for a long time–the first book (a novella, actually) in the Feverish series, the spinoff series from the Bullet series.  I’d had this idea in my head for a long time and I’m just now finally getting to it.  Believe me–like all the other books I want to write, it’s not like I didn’t want to or that I’m putting it off.  There’s just way too much that needs to be written and I often have no say in what comes first.

Finally, though, now that the Bullet series is drawing to an end, the Feverish series is kind of a natural.  I have two other rock star series I need to finish (Tangled Web and Wishes) and I have ideas for two standalone rock star books…but the Feverish series was long overdue.  Stay tuned, because I’ll be sharing a few teasers with you in the near future.  But, without further ado, here is the–dare I say?–super hot cover for Boiling Point!

BOOK NAME: Boiling Point

SERIES NAME: Feverish, Book 1.5 (yes, the Feverish series is a spinoff from the Bullet series!)

GENRES: Contemporary Romance, Erotic Romance, Rock Star Romance

LENGTH: 16,000 words (novella)

RELEASE DATE: March 29, 2016

PURCHASE/PRE-ORDER LINKS:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1ToZyaZ

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/23vaHv5

GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27257764-boiling-point

BLURB:

Pathetic.

Needy.

Untrusting.

Emily Brinkman hears all these descriptions in her head, all the things she knows others are thinking when she joins her boyfriend, Clay “Jet” Smith, on tour with his band. It doesn’t matter that she’s going as his PA as well; she knows she’s being judged…but she also knows that the people watching are half right.

Hot.

Tight.

Fine.

Clay can hear what all the men around him think of his sweet girlfriend and he loves having Emily join him on tour. To this woman, he’s not just a one-dimensional axe-slinging guitar god. She loves him and wants the best for him, and she won’t tell him something just because it’s what he wants to hear. But Clay didn’t stop to realize that all the guys on tour–from the roadies to security and even their frontman–would appreciate that Emily is a nice piece of ass. He will need to learn to trust her if their relationship is going to survive.

Will Clay and Emily survive the bumps on the road or will their time on tour drive them apart?

***Not intended for readers under the age of 18 due to adult language and sexual content***

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Links to other series books:

Feverish

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1mp0KeK

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1m162dw

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1BPtWPo

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1vOBuSz

iTunes: http://bit.ly/1xnvX4I

Google Play: http://bit.ly/1PeDIn1

Deleted Scene from BOILING POINT

I am constantly writing–if it’s not on paper or on the computer, it’s in my head.  But the reason I bring it up is that I often have dozens of story ideas waiting for me to write them.  I conceived of Boiling Point shortly after publishing Feverish because readers begged for more Clay and Emily.  I realized then that Clay’s band had stories of their own they wanted to tell, and the Feverish spinoff series was conceived.  A month or so later, a blogger friend contacted me and asked me to write a Valentine’s Day scene, and so I did (I’m including that as bonus material in the upcoming novella Boiling Point).  However, at that time, I also jotted the opening scene to the novella, but when I actually started writing the real deal late October 2015, that old beginning didn’t work anymore.  Why?  Well….probably because Clay and the gang appeared in Slash and Burn (Bullet #5), altering what had been “history” in my mind at the time.  They also appeared in On the Rocks (Vagabonds #3), and the old beginning didn’t work anymore.

Still, the old beginning rings true to the feel of what I was wanting to capture, and I know readers sometimes like a glimpse at deleted scenes.  Boiling Point will likely be published late March 2016 and out for pre-order sometime in February, but before that–just to whet your appetite for bad boy Jet and his trials on the road with his girl Emily–here’s the scene you won’t read…

~ ~ ~

Emily found herself drifting off as the tour bus made its way down the dark highway. Last Five Seconds had finished a show in New Jersey an hour earlier, and now they were headed toward Pennsylvania for their next concert. They had a day off in between, and Clay had told Emily he had some plans for them for the next day, but he hadn’t told her what.

He and Brian sat at the table near the front of the bus, Emily’s head resting against Clay’s shoulder. The other three guys were in the back—Devil and his long-time girlfriend had gone to bed in the bunks, but the other two guys were in the large party room in the back with four women looking to have a good time with some rock stars. Clay knew it would get boisterous near the back of the bus, and Devil and his girl were used to it, but Clay had tried to protect Emily from some of the seedier things that went on during tours. Since it was a short trip to Pennsylvania, he and Brian just decided to hang out. There was no sense trying to sleep. They’d be at their hotel soon enough.

Emily was drowsy but couldn’t actually sleep. Still, she wasn’t up for talking. She was nervous, frankly, because even though Clay had promised something special for the next day, Valentine’s Day, Emily knew nothing big would happen. The band was scheduled to be at a radio station the next day, followed by “A Date with Last Five Seconds,” a contest the radio station had arranged months ago with the band’s permission. Some fan was going to have Clay and the other four guys all night—who knew till how late?—and it made her nervous.

She probably didn’t need to be, but being on tour with the band had opened her eyes. Women were constantly throwing themselves at the guys at every corner. And she’d noticed how Clay’s eyes lit up when a barely twenty blonde with fake tits and a miniskirt that hardly covered her ass would approach him, asking for his autograph…on her boob or her ass. That pissed her off more than she’d ever say out loud.

~ ~ ~

Stay tuned for more Clay and the gang soon! 

Book Club Questions for FABRIC OF NIGHT

For a couple of years, I’d considered adding book club questions to the back matter in my books, and I decided against it.  I made that decision because I’d noticed a general reaction in the reading public to back matter in general.  The advent of e-reading made this phenomenon more pronounced, but it was always there.  You’re reading along and know you’re getting close to the end of the book, but you still have twenty or so pages, right?  Wrong!  You flip the page (virtual or paper) and discover that you’re at The End.  Oh, how frustrating and disappointing, and if that book is one of those that readers endearingly dub a “cliffy” (a series book with a cliffhanger–that technique seems to be employed most often with trilogies, a la Fifty Shades of Grey), all the more so, because they had been expecting some resolution to the story.  So that back matter, the area where we writers try to connect with our readers after they’ve finished our book?  It seems that the more crap we stuff back there, the bigger the chance we are to being reviled by those same readers we’d hoped to win over.

So I chose not to put book club questions in the back of my book!  I still thought it was a great idea, though, and I’m always trying to find ways to add value to my website–things my readers can access from me at anytime–so this was a great way to do that.

Today, we’re going to be looking at another one of my older standalone books.  Although I published Fabric of Night in the summer of 2011, I’d actually written it several years before that.  It’s one of my books that’s not read much, but that doesn’t mean it’s not read at all…and so I’m going to write questions for it too!  First, though, the blurb…

Her past will haunt her until she can remember it.

Teri Conover emerges from a river late at night with amnesia. She doesn’t know how she got there, and she can’t even remember her name or her past. She’s taken in by an elderly couple and feels drawn to a good-looking stranger named Bryan, but when she returns to her old life, she finds she is already engaged to another man. Teri must choose between the two men and race against time to discover what caused her amnesia. Most important, though, she must grapple with a past that she’d just as soon forget.

The questions:

A lot of books use the amnesia storyline to create a mystery.  Is that technique effective in this book?  In what ways did it work?  Is there a different way the story could have been told–without the protagonist suffering from amnesia?

Teri discovers that she wasn’t a very nice person before the amnesia.  How does that affect her relationships?

How big an effect does Bryan have on Teri’s transformation?  Do you think she would have continued becoming a better person if he were completely out of the picture?

Is the book’s ending too “easy”?

Do you like Teri when she’s “Violet”?  What about after she’s returned to her element?  When you see her past?  When she finds redemption?

Is Teri’s change believable?

If you could change the ending, how would the book end?

Are there any quotes that made an impression on you while reading?

If you could ask Jade one question about this book, what would it be?

Happy reading!

 

Dear Crabby: Famous and Fearful

Dear Crabby is a weekly column featuring the loveable but cantankerous Crabby, full of relationship advice for the lovesick. Let’s read what advice she has this week for our poor reader.

Dear Crabby:

I’m going to simply call myself “Rock Star,” because I’m pretty famous and I really don’t need any extra attention. Unlike a lot of your readers, I’m not having any problems with my husband. He’s an amazing guy, a good friend, a wonderful man, an amazing provider, and a fantastic father. I couldn’t ask for a better partner. I feel lucky and blessed every day. We have two beautiful children and life couldn’t be better!

Well, almost.  Life is wonderful, except I have a creepy stalker. I’m trying to act like it doesn’t bother me, but it does. I’m really starting to feel freaked out and I find myself suspecting every person I see. Well, that’s not entirely true. I’m not as creeped out by strange women as I am men, although I do realize my stalker could be a woman just as easily as it could be a man. The problem is, since I and my husband are in the limelight quite a bit, we get the occasional rabid fan from time to time, but I don’t know which people can be trusted and which ones should be feared.

Should I get a bodyguard? Should I just chill out? I just know that some celebrities who have ignored their stalkers have paid for it with their lives and, especially because I have children, I don’t want to take that chance. Please help! Any advice would be appreciated!

Famous and Fearful

 

Dear Famous:

Oh, to have the problems of the privileged. I can’t believe how little thought you’ve given this, Ms. Rock Star. You have the money. I should think you’d have hired dozens of bodyguards by now. Oh—and call the cops. If you hadn’t thought of that already, that should be your number one priority. But you, having the dough, could even go a tad further. HIRE A DETECTIVE! Figure out who the creeper is and put a stop to it before someone gets hurt.

Dear Crabby will address reader letters every Monday.

Meanwhile, are you dying to know what happened to poor Famous and Fearful? You can find out in the novella Christmas Stalkings (Bullet #4.5).

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1AR6nGv

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/16CTqHu

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/16CLQMM

Kobo: http://bit.ly/13mywKp

iTunes: http://bit.ly/13m07vq

Google Play: http://bit.ly/1ZtSU2D

Sunday Q&A: Inspiration

Who are authors who have inspired me?

The list could go on and on and on, but there are two huge inspirations. Don’t get me wrong—there are dozens of authors, living and long gone, whose stories I love and whose words have changed my life in some way, but there are two authors who have inspired me more than any other.

First, there is Stephen King, and I’m sure he figures highly on a lot of writers’ lists. Not only is the man by far the most prolific and probably most published author on the planet—with no end in sight, mind you—but, in my opinion (as both a writer and a writing teacher), he has written one of the best, most practical guides to creative writing that’s out there. I have used tips from On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft not only in creative writing classes I’ve taught, but I’ve also recommended it time and time again to writers, both already published and aspiring. The first time I read it, I thought, “Wow. That’s how I write. I’m not a freak!” Yes, there are lots of solid books on writing out there, but what makes King’s stand above the others is it’s not a textbook. The first half of the book is very much personal memoir, a good reason for any of his faithful readers to pick it up, but the second part, where he gets into the nitty gritty, is a simple “guide” to writing. What I like about it is that he doesn’t pull punches and he doesn’t get on a high horse to talk academia. He’s in the trenches telling the troops how to survive. I find myself going back to that book time and time again. It’s that good. More than that, though, I love much of his fiction. Misery is and always will be one of my favorite books.

My other inspiration is Toni Morrison. The woman can weave a story like few can, and every time I reread one of her books, I’m blown away. She can paint a picture with words so much that her prose is like poetry. Her stories also cut to the core, and many have touched me deeply, have moved me so much that they have forever altered my way of thinking. Books like Beloved, The Bluest Eye, Paradise—I cannot fathom how anyone could read those books and set them aside, not having changed emotionally. Morrison’s fiction forces you to think about who you are and what you believe, what you value, what you hold dear. Any author able to move me on that level, not just emotionally but intellectually, will have me as a faithful reader for life. She is incredible in a way that few authors are. And don’t get me wrong—hundreds of authors have my respect—but Morrison is at the top for me.

If you have any questions for me, just ask!  I’ll answer them in a future Sunday Q&A!

Writing Believable Dialogue

Carrie asked me a couple of writing questions on last Saturday’s post, so I’m going to tackle the first one today. She asked, “How do you write effective dialogue? What I write sounds better in my head than it does on paper.” I understand that! I’m sure you’ve all heard the advice to listen to and observe conversations in real life to help you get better at it. Yes, that advice does help, but it’s not perfect. After all, you and I both know it would be boring as hell to read a real conversation:

Hey.

Hey.

How’s it going?

Oh, you know.

Job suck?

Yeah, uh, the usual. You?

Yeah, it sucks.  So, well, um, I kinda called in sick yesterday.

Cool.

There are stops and starts and niceties and formality that occur in actual spoken dialogue that would kill a book—or a movie or TV show, for that matter. When we’re wanting to be entertained as readers (or viewers), we want to get to the good stuff. So don’t bore your readers with real dialogue. Make it real-like.

So how do we do that? Sometimes, it’s not as simple as it seems, but what can help is an offshoot of the listen-to-real-conversations advice. Do that. And actually record several conversations—verbatim—and type them out. Do this as many times as you can. You’ll see, first off, that there’s a lot going on, a lot of veering off course, a lot of starts and stops and pauses and formalities that just wouldn’t work in a book. So take these real conversations and make them exciting—take out the boring and unnecessary stuff. That’s step one.

There’s more, though. Most of the time, dialogue will drive the plot forward or, at the very least, will add to character development. The most important thing I can tell you about dialogue is it needs to matter. Don’t just put in dialogue because you think you need to. Make sure there’s a point. That said, dialogue can sometimes be a better communicator than narrative. For example, here’s a snippet of dialogue from Lies (Nicki Sosebee #10):

In seconds, JD appeared in front of Nicki with the bottle of Jose Cuervo and poured her shot. “This one’s on the house, birthday girl.”

She sneered. “You sure Napoli can afford it?”

“Fuck Napoli. Every girl should get a shot on the house on her birthday. Let ‘em fire me if they want.” She gave him a grin while he fetched a wedge of lime from under the bar. “Maybe I’m buying this one myself. Ever think of that?”

Nicki slammed the shot, and there was no way she was going to answer before chasing it with lime. She denied her shoulders the shudder they wanted to give into and forced her lips into a half smile. “Maybe you should say that if it’s true.”

JD smiled wide then. “You’ll just have to wonder, girl.” He winked and sauntered down the bar to tend to two women who’d just sat down. And Nicki was no idiot—those girls weren’t there for the drinks or even the atmosphere. Most people who drank at Napoli were there for the food first. Every once in a while, they’d get couples there for wine. Back in the day, when they were packed with customers from wall to wall, people would actually dine at the bar.

But those days were long past.

Those two women, though…they’d discovered cute, sexy JD, and Nicki knew, sure as shit, that they were there to see him, not to experience his killer bartending skills.

Not that he wasn’t good. He did mix a mean Cosmopolitan.

JD reappeared after serving the young ladies at the other end. Stupid man. Couldn’t see an invitation even when it was lined in gold. “Penny for your thoughts, Nicki.”

She ground her jaw together before she answered. “You don’t want to hear my thoughts, JD.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Try me.”

If he’d thought she was there for his particular sexy ways of bartending, he was mistaken, and it was best to let him know right now. “They’re depressing as hell.”

He was undeterred. “Of course, they are. That’s why you’re drinking alone…on your damn birthday. And that’s why I’m telling you to let it all out. I’m a hell of a listener and what you tell me will go no further.” As if she needed more convincing, he nodded his head toward the end of the bar where the two girls sat chattering. “They don’t need me to listen, so shoot.”

The look in his eyes was so sincere, so inviting. How the hell could she say no?

She couldn’t. “How much time you got?”

You’ll notice that I do a lot more when writing dialogue than just adding dialogue tags (like “he said”/”she said”). I like to show “behind the scenes”—the thoughts of the main character informing what he or she is saying. It’s no secret what Nicki’s thinking because we’re in her head. But what about JD? What can we tell from his dialogue? More than that, though, the dialogue drives the plot forward. We learn here that it’s Nicki’s birthday and she’s drinking alone—JD is going to get her to open up and let him (and our readers!) know what’s going on. And that’s what the most effective dialogue will do—it will inform your readers in an entertaining way. I could very easily have summed up what Nicki’s thinking and feeling in a paragraph or two—a boring paragraph or two—but instead I chose to have these two characters banter in a half-flirting dialogue that also lets readers in to see Nicki’s state of mind. The hope is that, by this point, readers are on the edge of their seats, wondering what the hell is going on with Nicki—and then feeling relieved when JD manages to talk her into spilling her secrets.

Good dialogue can also reveal character. This is a snippet of dialogue from On the Rocks (Vagabonds #3):

We sat at a quiet booth and Brian asked, “You’re dating CJ Slavin, right?”

I managed a halfhearted grin. “Was. Don’t you keep up with the news?”

He chuckled. “Yeah…I make sure to buy my copies of The National Enquirer and Star the second they’re hot off the press.”

“Ever hear of Revolver?”

“They print shit like that?”

That told me all I needed to know about Brian Zimmer. He was a good guy and he didn’t go in much for gossip of any kind. I grinned as the waitress brought us two bottles of beer and I drank a quick swig. “What about you? You been dating a hot bassist?”

He laughed again. “I am the hot bassist.” Now, let’s pause here. Brian was hotter than hell—he just wasn’t my type. He had felt like a friend from the beginning—and I think he felt the same way about me. We just clicked on a level that I don’t with most people. And it was instantaneous.

When we were done laughing, I asked, “Okay…so who’s dating the hot bassist?”

He shook his head. “Not anymore. I’m kinda in between relationships like you.”

I could tell right away that joking with him was probably the best way to go—after all, we’d already been doing it. So I said, “Who says I’m in between relationships? Who’s to say I’m not done?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Fair enough.” Then he took a swig of his beer. “For argument’s sake, though, I’m gonna assume you’re just on pause like me. And…well, it might take me a while to get back on the horse.”

Oh. He got serious all of a sudden. I nodded. “Sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged, lifting his beer to his lips again. “Don’t be.” After he took another drink, he said, “You know, they say the longer it takes you to get over somebody, the more you loved them. Or some shit like that. I dunno. I didn’t really love Cookie.”

“Cookie?” I was shaking my head, certain I’d misheard. “Were you dating a poodle?”

“No. Her real name’s Caroline, but her friends always called her Cookie. She’s a model.” I nodded, taking a long draw off my beer. “A bra-and-panty model. I guess it wasn’t bound to last.”

“Too many guys ogling over her?”

“No. Too damn stupid. And too damn vain. I get that she’s gotta look good, but rough sex is gonna mess up your hair. If it doesn’t, you’re doing it wrong.”

That girl reminded me of someone else who seemed vain and stupid. “Her name wasn’t Barbie, by any chance?”

He started laughing. “Oh, shit. Speaking of the news, I’m surprised you haven’t sued that woman.”

A shiver charged down my spine. “What? Why?” I’d actually been out of touch while on the road. Yeah, I could have turned on a TV once in a while to watch that train wreck of a TV show Barbie was on, but I wasn’t much for reality television—especially if it featured a person I was glad was no longer part of my life. But it was sounding like she wanted to continue to be in my life, whether I wanted her to or not.

“I don’t watch that show all the time, but at least once an episode, at least the ones I’ve watched, she vilifies you. Sweetheart, you are the bane of her existence.” Brian, with those two sentences, solidified our friendship for all time. He was the first rock star I’d ever met who not only used the word vilify but knew what it meant…and then letting me know that Barbie blamed all her shit on me? Well, that wasn’t so good, but if Mollie was right and there was no such thing as bad publicity, then let her bring it.

The character of Kyle, the narrator, is pretty easy to “read” because we’ve been in her head for all three books. Brian, though, is seen through Kyle’s eyes and, aside from her own assessments, what does the dialogue reveal about his character? He’s a bit of a smart ass. He’s smart. And he’s a nice guy. Did you get that here? So how can you do that with dialogue that you write?

Aside from listening to conversations and making them better on paper, I also recommend that you write dialogue—a lot. Set it aside and come back to it a week later. Reread it. One of the best things you can do with your dialogue is cut out the fat—so don’t be scared to chop! How would this scene have felt if it had started out with them ordering their drinks, discussing what they wanted to get? Boring! Instead, get to the heart—get to the point. The point of this scene was not only to develop character but also to develop the relationship between Kyle and Brian in one nice, neat scene. You learn a lot about him in just a few words—and that’s what good dialogue will do.

Sometimes, you’ll have characters with some sort of accent (careful, though—if it’s too distracting, you’ll irritate your readers). Or maybe they have a catch phrase they say all the time, or maybe they use crappy grammar. Get in your characters’ heads and let them speak—and then do a little chopping as you see fit.

My final bit of advice, though, pertains not just to dialogue but to all writing (and, I’m afraid, it’s advice Stephen King gives all the time, so it’s not that original!)—write a lot. There’s no avoiding getting better if you keep doing it. Practice; practice; practice! And then read a lot. More than that, though: when you come across a book that has good dialogue (what you find to be entertaining and effective), analyze it. See if you can figure out what makes it so good. Why did you like it? And then figure out what it did—did it reveal character? Drive the plot? Show motivation? Provide more information? It might have done all those things and more, but you’ll figure it out as you pick it apart. Happy writing!

If you have any questions about writing, feel free to ask! I plan to cover a new topic every Saturday.

Flash Forward Friday – LOCKED AND LOADED teaser #3

Guess what? In case you’ve lost track of time, I wanted to remind you that you are less than two weeks away from the release of Bullet #6, Locked and Loaded. I don’t want to give too much away, because I hate spoilers, but let me just say that a few things happen in this book that you might not be ready for. This scene, though, might help you prepare for those things…

Teaser #3 from Locked and Loaded

“Any particular pain you’re addressing?”

Shit. Zane hadn’t given that much thought in years. But the shrink asked…so Zane might as well tell. “My back bothers me off and on. When I was a kid, my dad used to beat the ever-lovin’ shit out of me…and there’s a spot on my lower back that hurts like fuck sometimes. Oxy cures that shit.” Zane was impressed that the doctor never even blinked when Zane flung expletive after expletive at him. That was good and indicated that they’d probably get along just fine.

“Psychological pain? Emotional trauma as well?”

“Yeah. Probably.”

“What else?”

Zane paused for a few seconds to let his thoughts settle once more. “Weed usually just puts a haze on everything and makes life feel okay, you know? Like…I could be having the shittiest fucking day, be angry as hell, then I smoke a joint, and ah.” He reclined in the chair and laid his head back as though letting go of all his worries, all the tension of the day. “It’s the best thing for me if I’m pissed off. Takes all the edge off.”

“You’re speaking in present tense, Zane.”

He gave it some thought. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“That’s okay. Nothing wrong with that. I just wanted to point it out.”

Zane nodded. “I usually don’t do—er, didn’t do one strain or another. I usually went with a hybrid. But anyway, um…did I answer your question?”

“I think so.” Dr. Harvey sat up and pushed his glasses to the top of his head. “How often were you sober?”

“On the road?” The shrink nodded his head. “Um…never if I could help it.”

“And regular sex was part of the routine?”

“Oh, yeah. Goes along with it. Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll, doc. You’ve heard that before, right?”

Dr. Harvey smiled again, not an unsympathetic gesture, but he leaned forward. “Do you have any other compulsive habits, Zane?”

“What do you mean? Like what?”

“Well…let’s just say that addiction comes in many forms. Maybe you gamble impulsively…or you’re addicted to the internet. Maybe you obsess over sex.”

Zane laughed—the first fully relaxed moment he’d had since entering that building. “Doc, I’m a rock star. Yeah, I’m not the front man, but I score plenty. And I’m a guy. Tell me what guy my age doesn’t obsess over sex.”

Dr. Harvey took a deep breath and looked down at the papers, flipping pages and seeming to look for some information, but Zane got the feeling the guy was toying with him. “You’re in your twenties, correct, Zane?”

“Yeah…”

“Contrary to popular belief, men do not think about sex every seven seconds. Teenage boys, maybe, but men with jobs or families or obligations don’t think about sex as frequently as has been reported.”

“What’s that even mean?”

Dr. Harvey took in a deep breath. “I’d like you to consider the very real possibility, Zane, that perhaps you are addicted to a great many things, things you’ve never even considered…and maybe we have our work cut out for us.”

Just a reminder—LOCKED AND LOADED releases on February 1, 2016 and you can pre-order your copy now!

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1lWuUIF

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1QleUNe

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1Si3cUr

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1N76HVM

iTunes: http://apple.co/1SOirnq

Google Play: http://bit.ly/2373tgQ

Throwback Thursday – EVERYTHING BUT (Tangled Web #2)

In 2012, thanks to romance author Stacy Gail, I participated in my first WriMo (basically, it’s where an author writes a 50,000 word novel in 30 days). It was called BuNoWriMo (run by The Burrow), and I also made another close author friend, Hart Johnson. It wound up taking me over a month to finish that novel, because it ended up with way more than 50,000 words, but I wrote what I considered to be my best book up to that point (I sometimes feel that way with new books!).

That book was Everything But, Tangled Web 2.

I considered for a while having it traditionally published, but I’d been indie publishing for a year by that point and loved the freedom going indie had given me. The thought of going back to writing query letters and synopses and then sending those off to publishers and agents and then waiting and waiting and waiting for a response before doing it all over again made me realize that I never wanted to do that again.

NEVER!

So I didn’t. Once I’d made up my mind to keep moving forward, I published the book a few weeks later. That book was the first one to gain me a little attention. I actually appeared on several of Amazon’s (at the time) new author rank lists—little ol’ me! That was exciting, and it only fueled the fire for the books that followed.

Anyway, Everything But is bad boy Riley’s story, and I loved it, because he was the guy you loved to hate from Tangled Web. What I love doing as a writer is showing you that sometimes, from a different angle, things might not have been exactly what they seemed. You know the old saying that “there’s your side and there’s my side, and then there’s the truth”? I love playing with perspective as a writer, because I can show that sometimes the bad guy isn’t the bad guy—sometimes he’s just misunderstood.

The blurb:

High school English teacher Erin Lancaster is stuck with the unwelcome job of filling in for the injured cheerleading coach, but she wants to back out when she discovers she has to be auctioned as a date during the annual spring fundraiser. She’s horrified to find her rock star crush Riley Schultz will be playing emcee for the event, but she’s even more shocked when he also happens to be the highest bidder for her affections, and sparks fly when she discovers that maybe their attraction is mutual. Will one week together be enough for them to quell the flames, to enjoy everything but?

Oh!  This excerpt is 18+!

Chapter Five from Everything But

SO IT HAD been an asshole move. Riley was good at that kind of shit. But he knew it would get that gorgeous blonde’s attention. Erin Lancaster…that’s what they’d said her name was. He’d decided the only way to really catch her eye would be to drop a wad of cash on her, more than any of her little cheerleader girls had pulled in. If it wouldn’t have seemed decadent, he would’ve bid a thousand on her. As it was, it had worked.

He could see the expression on her face when she first walked up on the stage. That was a good sign. In a million years, he never would have guessed a high school English teacher would show the slightest interest in a guy like him, but he saw something there. She looked almost disappointed that he wasn’t the one auctioning her off.

And that’s when he knew he had a good plan.

Sure as shit, when he bid the five-hundred, her face lit up like a Christmas tree. He could tell she was trying to control herself, but apparently the Riley charm had no limits. High school English teachers, religious grandmothers, and teenage girls—they all loved him. She was shocked until she saw it was him and then her jaw literally fucking dropped. Classic.

He couldn’t help it. The cocky rock star expression he’d seen himself wearing in dozens of magazines slid over his face as he continued walking closer. And, of course, no one overbid him. He’d made sure of that. And even if they had, he would’ve kept bidding till he’d won. Until he’d seen her expression and knew she was interested, he might’ve allowed himself to be overbid, but not now.

And he got lucky. The jocks closed the whole shindig, allowing him to hang close to the stage until she walked toward the edge. When she approached the stairs, he held out his hand. Her knees were almost at his eye level and he was glad her dress barely covered them with its wispy, uneven, flowing hem. She had nice legs.

She smiled and took his hand, allowing him to escort her to the floor. She said, “I suppose I should thank you on behalf of the cheerleading squad. That was a lot of money to spend on this auction.”

He sneered. “Nothin’ but a thing. Happy to help.” He hated letting go of that tiny hand.

She acted uncomfortable, as though her car was sitting in the parking lot, ready to change into a pumpkin. “Do I call you Riley?”

He couldn’t help the grin that crossed his face. It sounded nice coming out of her mouth. “That’s my name.” But he couldn’t help the attitude, could he? “And…it’s Erin, right?”

She nodded. “Yep.” She started inching away from the stage. “So…I’ll see you here tomorrow night, right?”

“I kinda thought maybe I could pick you up. Make it like a real date. Unless, of course, that’s against the rules.”

She laughed then, and Riley could see her letting go of some of the nervousness. “No rules, at least not for grownups.”

He pretended to shudder. “That’s a bad word in my business.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

He cleared his throat. “Can I walk you out to your car and get your phone number, address…?”

She inhaled a deep breath. “Yeah…about that. Actually, I have a small meeting here once the crowd has filtered out. Last minute stuff.” She shook her head, closing her eyes and breathing in once more, as though she had to force out the garbage up there. God, that was cute. When she opened her green eyes, she said, “Oh, but I can give you my info right now if you want it.”

He squinted his left eye, throwing the cocky façade back up, his defense when his confidence waned. “You sure?”

Her cheeks turned a slight shade of pink, so slight he almost missed it. But she rattled off her address and phone number when he whipped out his cell phone. What more could he have asked for? Well, he would’ve liked a kiss on the cheek or a hug, but he supposed that was asking a little too much this early on. After all, she wasn’t one of his screaming, adoring fans…and maybe that was a good thing. So he said goodbye, holding her eye’s attention for a few seconds, and then braced himself for the throng of girls he knew were standing just outside the door. He grabbed the sunglasses from their resting place and slid them on his face, prepared to play rock star again.

* * *

Holy shit. That was all Erin could think as she watched Riley Schultz walk away from her out into the lobby area outside the gym. She’d been holding her hands together in front of her the whole time so they would stop shaking. Yeah, she’d thought he was a good-looking guy but there was no chance anything would come of it.

Hell, she couldn’t let anything come of it. She’d been in far too many damaging relationships over the last three years, and she knew a rock star—especially a cocksure guy like Riley Schultz—would probably make those heartaches a walk in the park.

But. How many women would be able to talk about going on a real date with a rock star? No one she knew, at any rate. For years from now, she was sure, kids would want to take her classes so they could meet the teacher who’d won money for the school by dating a heavy metal frontman.

No, now she knew she was just playing around in fantasyland. She managed to make it through the impromptu meeting afterward with Ron and the football coach, where they discussed last-minute details about the dinner. Gill gave Erin the final total—well over two-thousand earned. She was glad because she’d forgotten that they still had to pay for the actual food. Even though a local restaurant gave them a discount because it was for a good cause, the squad still had to pay for actual cost. And it was also tradition that a group of football players were the waiters, and for that gesture, the cheerleading squad had always given the football team a chunk of their earnings. She thought Ron had said they usually gave the team ten percent, but her brain was not fully functioning. She’d have to deal with the money stuff on Monday, when she could actually talk with the principal. For now, though, she felt overloaded and just wanted a warm bubble bath…and time to plan what the hell she should wear tomorrow night.

Ron told her he would shut off the lights and the football coach promised they’d be ready for everyone by seven the following night. Erin had never been to one of these auction dinners, so she had no idea what to expect. She only knew they wouldn’t be serving wine…and that was a damn shame.

So she started walking out of the gym. Oh, shit. Riley was still there, three or four girls around him. He was over to the side so she could maybe pretend she didn’t see him. That might seem bitchy, but she didn’t trust herself to not become like those teenage girls were…salivating, giggling airheads. So what the hell should she do? She also didn’t want to seem pathetic by forcing his attention away from his little fan club either.

So, pathetic or not, she fished her cell phone from out of her purse and decided to check for messages as she walked out. She wouldn’t actually text anyone unless she did have a message, but she thought it might be enough to get her through the lobby and out the doors without the dilemma of do-I-or-don’t-I make eye contact?

She was halfway through the lobby and fully done checking her zero messages when she heard Riley tell the girls, “Nice chatting with you, but if you’ll excuse me…” And that’s when Erin knew he was heading her way.

That made her nervous all over again. But at least her ploy had kept the moment from being awkward. She felt his presence beside her and she looked up, throwing the phone back in her purse. “Long time, no see.”

“Can I walk you to your car?”

She couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face. “If you really want to.”

Riley dropped his voice as he pushed the door open for her. “Yeah, I do, but I also need an excuse to get away, if you catch my drift.”

She nodded. Well, that didn’t do much for her ego, but she couldn’t fault him for honesty. “So…do you ever get used to that?”

“What? The girls?”

“Well, yeah, but also the attention.”

“Yes and no.” She started walking down the stairs in front of the school and he followed suit. “I mean…at first, it was cool. Crowds of people surrounding us, and, yeah, mostly girls. And I got more of the attention than the other guys, because I was the face for the band, if you know what I mean. But after a while, you realize you have no privacy anymore, and people don’t respect your need for it. They figure you’re famous; you deserve the attention you get. And sometimes I’m cool with that. It comes with the territory. But a lot of times it’s unwanted. Sorry, but if I’m buying my niece an ice cream cone, I don’t want someone with a camera snapping pictures of it, and I sure as hell don’t want a bunch of girls screaming and pawing at me when I need to keep my eye on a four-year-old child who’s trusting me to take care of her.”

Erin nodded. “Understandable.”

They continued walking across the parking lot. It was dark out, but there were plenty of lights in the parking lot to guide their way. It was a little cool out but not too chilly, and Erin knew hot days were just around the corner. This time of year it was pleasant, reminding her of one of the reasons she’d wanted to remain in Colorado. Cool, crisp air in the spring and fall, surrounded by the extreme weather that made her appreciate the in-between seasons even more. “But, hell. You didn’t want to hear me whine about how my life sucks.”

Erin laughed. “I asked.”

Riley’s head moved up and down slowly. “True. You did. But what about you, Ms. Erin Lancaster? What’s your life like?”

She shook her head, glancing his way but afraid to get sucked in by those piercing brown eyes. She looked back in front of her. She saw her tame car just across the way, because there weren’t many cars left in the lot. Her car was a small white sedan, very teacherly, and the only reason she’d ever bought it was because it was conservative. She needed a reliable car and she didn’t need to blow money on something just because it was pretty or sporty, even if she wanted to deep down. “Oh, probably pretty much what you think it is. I teach a bunch of high school kids throughout the year and usually find a part-time job during the summers to keep myself busy. I also do a little academic writing during my breaks, writing literary analysis for journals…just for the fun of it. But…uh…I do a little camping and go to concerts during the summer, and—”

“I thought so.”

“Thought what?”

“You acted like you recognized me.” They reached her car and stood beside it.

“You could tell?” She felt her face grow warm.

“Well…it was a guess. A good one, apparently.” She felt her lips twitch into a smile but she was afraid to say much more. Riley cleared his throat and she allowed herself to drown in his gaze. Oh, shit. That was dangerous, because now being the only thing in his eyesight made her feel captive. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch and she felt her mouth start to water. And the seconds dragged on and she started to feel more nervous. Part of her just wanted to kiss him, famous rock star or not. She’d seen his picture a thousand times, but it couldn’t do justice to the real Riley Schultz. He was magnetic and…hot. She felt her extremities begin to tingle as her brain tried to figure out something to say. She found that her back was almost pressed up against her car door and she saw him lean slightly forward. His eyes had taken on a dreamy, sleepy look and she thought he really was going to take her in a passionate embrace. She knew then that she wouldn’t have protested. But he said, his voice low, “So what am I supposed to wear to this thing tomorrow night?”

She swallowed, regaining her composure. “You know, I’m really not sure. I’ve never done this before. I’m just filling in for the real cheerleading coach, and so I’ve never been to one of these.” She took a deep breath. “If I had to guess, it’d be like a real date.”

He nodded and he looked pure rock star again, cocky and oh-so-self-sure. “So…like this?” He waved his hand in a semi-circular motion, indicating himself from head to toe.

Erin took the invitation and looked him over from top to bottom…not that she hadn’t done that already, but how could she resist? And where the hell had this boldness come from? But she did it just the same…took in his reddish-brown mussed-up hair and…fuck…he had a few cute little freckles on his cheeks that she’d never noticed from media pictures or CD covers. And his facial hair was gone, all but the sexy soul patch just underneath his lip that she’d love to feel brushing her chin. He had a noticeable Adam’s apple that was right about eye level and, sure enough, he was wearing his dog tags. She’d have to get a closer look at those tomorrow if he’d let her. She made a note to herself that it could be a conversation piece when they had a lull. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt but up close she could see the definition underneath…not that it mattered. She knew exactly what his torso looked like, having seen pictures of him shirtless at concerts, sweaty and… She gulped. She was getting distracted again. She forced her eyes to continue down farther. Faded Levi’s, not too snug but not baggy. Black sneakers. She couldn’t tell if they were Converse or something else, but she knew she’d better drag her eyes back up pretty quickly.

When she met his eyes again, his lips spread into a grin. Shit. He knew what she was thinking. He had to. But maybe she could play it off. “Well, uh…where you come from, that might be acceptable date attire, and, I suppose, the teens wouldn’t mind, but I’d guess you might want to be a little more conservative. Maybe a button-down shirt at least?”

He nodded. “Got it.” He moved his head forward a little again, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. She began to doubt she’d ever be able to breathe normally again. But he stopped, his lips close enough, his breath warm on her cheek, his arm braced on her car, and said, “What are you planning to wear on our date, Ms. Erin?”

She swallowed again, well aware of the powerful effect he was having on her. She didn’t know if it was just part of his personality or if it was because he was the big, bad rock star. It didn’t matter really. He was having that effect and analyzing why wouldn’t change it. “Uh…I’m not sure yet. Like I said, this was kind of a last-minute thing for me.”

“A dress?”

“Well, yeah, I have to wear a dress.”

His lips turned up into a half-grin. “You don’t have to, Erin. That’s a societal expectation, and you forget…my job’s all about rebelling against expectations. You wanna wear a bikini tomorrow night, I wouldn’t object.”

She wasn’t quite sure how to take his statement, but she was pretty sure he was fucking with her, just like he had all the young women onstage tonight. Maybe he thought he was so clever, she’d never notice. Needless to say, the smoldering feelings she’d had just moments earlier iced up. “I’m sure you wouldn’t, Mr. Schultz, but I can assure you I’ll wear something date appropriate.”

He raised his eyebrows, a look of amusement causing a twinkle in his eye. “Mister? Fuck…that’s the second time I’ve been called that tonight. What the hell?”

Erin turned in the tight space between Riley and her car, but as she moved back to open the car door, she backed into Riley. “Apparently, I and others are trying to show you the respect we expect in return.” She turned her head slightly to the right to catch his eye.

His left arm wrapped around her waist and held her up against his body. She could feel his strength and it made her feel instantly weak. The coldness she’d felt? Gone in a second, replaced by furious desire. But she couldn’t let it show. She refused to play the helpless victim in his cat-and-mouse game. Still…he was proving to be irresistible. “Oh, I respect you.” She felt his breath on her neck and then he said in her ear, “I just think maybe we could have a little fun together too.”

She felt her nipples tighten and was relieved he wouldn’t be able to see it. He couldn’t know the effect he was having on her. She cleared her throat and prayed she sounded stronger than she felt. “If your idea of fun is seeing me in a bikini at something like this, I’m afraid you’re going to be sorely disappointed.” She pulled away, relieved he released her, and sat in her car seat. She took a deep breath. “There’s a Hooters in Colorado Springs if that’s more your cup of tea. Otherwise, see you tomorrow.”

He smiled and shook his head. “It was just a joke, you know.”

She arched her eyebrows and reached for the door handle. Before pulling it closed, she said, “I wasn’t joking.” She forced herself to start her car and not look back at the mysterious Riley Schultz before driving out of the parking lot.

Amazon: http://amzn.to/Qm90yO

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1gxyZK2

B&N: http://bit.ly/1zRaukC

Kobo: http://bit.ly/XQSAmj

iTunes: http://bit.ly/YWPiOA

Google Play: http://bit.ly/1J10Sy6

 

Is Exploitation Okay in This Day and Age?

My all-time favorite hard rock radio station has made me angry for the last time. Every once in a while, they get a wild hair and decide to do something that’s exploitative of women. Most of the DJs are male, and while I don’t know that that necessarily has anything to do with the problem, it certainly doesn’t help, because they’re not feeling the problem. And the occasional woman on staff might not feel like she can say anything for fear of retribution or ostracism.

Thing is…the year is 2016. Aren’t we a little past the point where we need to talk about Hooters’ Girls and strip clubs on the air all the time? And, even if not, we can most certainly stop the occasional ultra-exploitative incident. This time, the station recently had a contest where girls sent in their photos to be voted on. The one with the most votes becomes the winner, so you know these girls are doing their best to look sexy, provocative, and desirable. The station has done this before, just with different themes (like with tattooed women—who has the best tattoos? My question: Why just women???). I suppose the station is catering to its main demographic, which I’m guessing must be 15- to 25-year-old horny males—but it’s pissing this 40ish-year-old female right the hell off, and I am no longer listening to their station. Yes, I miss listening to the station, but I am over it. Whether or not a young woman is willing to be drooled over and voted on—solely based on her appearance—it’s time to stop.

I complained to my husband about it, and he said, “Well, in all fairness…that’s always kinda been a facet of metal”—you know, the music, the girls, the booze, the pills. I replied that, yeah, it sure has been. Back in the day, I saw more than my fair share of women flashing their boobs at the band—usually from a spot on their boyfriends’ shoulders. But that was a long time ago and we live in a different age.

Don’t we?

And then I started questioning myself. Don’t I do something very similar? What about the half-naked cover models gracing my book covers? Does that make me a hypocrite, especially when these covers truly are meant to be drool-inducing?

Maybe.

One difference, though, is that the models are paid—and they are not just there to be voted on and judged by their appearance. They somehow represent the story inside the book. They are not merely what my teenage boys would call “fap” material. Ask how many people have bought my books with no plans to ever read them if you have any doubts.

I realize in terms of my ex-fave radio station that I may be the only listener who takes issue with what they’re doing…but I can no longer just sit back and listen. Look out, Pandora—here I come. It was time for me to get with the new millennium anyway—it just took a response to modern-day insensitivity to push me there.

Book Club Questions for STATING HIS CASE

Because of my idea to write some beginning/sample questions for book clubs, Keri, one of my Street Team admins, thought it might be kind of fun to actually do that sort of thing in our Facebook group (Jade’s Bullet Babes—it’s here if you’re interested: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1474831589425990/ ). So, this week, when we’re not doing our regular “Bullet Babe of the Week” where, essentially, one of our members “takes over” the group for a week, members will be reading Tangled Web and discussing it. I consider that success.

So, in light of that success, I’m going to continue with my weekly Book Club questions. This week, we’ll take a look at another oldie, Stating His Case. This book, a standalone erotic romance, was published in 2011 but I’d actually written it years earlier, doing a heavy revision before going the indie publishing route. It was probably the first book where I let my “Gee, I love men with tattoos and piercings” banner fly high.