Many authors have a theme running through their works. The importance of family, the ultimate quest for something, well…questworthy; how good always triumphs over evil. Themes are wonderful; you can build on them and explore them in many ways.
The theme for my third MacQuire Women Book, First Impressions, is simply put, first impressions can be, and often are, wrong. The age-old adage that states don’t judge a book by its cover, essentially means the same thing, and I wanted to explore that thought,
In First Impressions, family Med Doc Clarissa Rogers has a not-too-positive opinion of local veterinarian Padric Cleary. She’s heard everyone from his twin sister to her own office staff label Pat as a player. This is not the type of man she wants to be associated with. From these descriptions, she bills him as shallow and superficial.
All that changes when Pat helps her through one of the worst days of her life. She sees him as a kind and caring man, honest, truthful and far, far from shallow. His concern for her is heartfelt and she responds to it as she’s done with no other man.
When a situation arises that seems to prove everything she’d heard about him was in fact true, their relationship takes a 180 degree turn backward. But, because this is a romance novel, you can guess how it ends. Pat and Clarissa’s journey and growth, though, are the most important facets of the book.
Now, another interesting fact behind why I titled the book what I did is this: Pride and Prejudice – my all time number 1 favorite romance novel – had as its original title, First Impressions. For those of you familiar with Pride and Prejudice you can see why Jane Austen called it that. Lizzy Bennett’s first impression of Darcy is that he is vain, pompous and arrogant, unconcerned with his fellow man and a snob. We all know how her opinion changes when Darcy shows Lizzy the true man he is during the Lydia/Wickham scandal.
I would never be so bold as to compare Clarissa & Pat to Elizabeth & Darcy. But both couples do share similar experiences with trust and being judgmental. Both books have strong, independent-thinking women as their protagonists, and both require the hero and heroine to go through a few mis-steps before stepping into one another’s lives forever.
I will admit this freely – I don’t usually make a good first impression when people meet me. I’m socially awkward and I tend to back away from a group and observe before I ever put myself into the mix. This has the tendency for people who don’t know me to think I am either excessively snobbish, rude or shy – none of which I am. Well, okay, I’ll give you rude -SOMETIMES! But first impressions are usually, in my observation, wrong. We need to really get to know people before we ever assume anything about them. That old book and cover saw drifts back to my mind frequently.
So, if we were to meet, what do you think my first impression of you would be?
First Impressions
Family Practice Doctor Clarissa Rogers’ first impression of Padric Cleary is biased and based on gossip. The handsome, charming veterinarian is considered a serial dater and commitment-phobic by his family and most of the town. Relationship shy, Clarissa refuses to lose her heart to a man who can’t pledge himself to her forever.
Pat Cleary, despite his reputation, is actually looking for “The One.” When he does give his heart away, he wants it to be for life. With his parent’s marriage as his guidebook, he wants a woman who will be his equal and soul mate in every way.
Can Pat convince everyone – including Clarissa – she’s the only woman for him?
Excerpt:
“Have you ever been friends with a girl before?” she finally asked.
“Friends?”
“Yes. Friends.”
“Have a beer and shoot some pool friends? Or the kind with benefits?”
She laughed out loud, shook her head and grinned. “Have you ever been friends with a girl without having sex mixed into the equation?”
“Not since I was sixteen,” he admitted and then felt his neck heat. “Why?”
She cocked her head again. “It’s no secret I’m attracted to you, too. I think my reaction to the way you kissed me proves it.”
“Why am I hearing a ‘but’?”
Her lips twitched at the corners. “But I don’t jump into bed with a man because I’m attracted to him.”
“I never thought you did.”
“Good to know.”
He cocked his head. “So, what’s being friends got to do with anything?”
Clarissa sighed and settled back against the doorframe. “Can I be honest?”
“I would hope so.”
“I’ve been hearing about your reputation with women since I moved here, and I’m not looking to be the flavor of the week.”
He stared at her for a second as hurt washed through him. “When you say honest, you don’t pull any punches.”
Often in our busy, 24/7, social media addicted and instant gratification existence we get caught up in high expectations for (fill in the blank) events in our lives. One day you’re rolling along, plans all laid out nice and tidy and then something happens to challenge you. Something which tests your resilience for change, and threshold for disappointment.
Sound familiar? It happens to all of us. Hopefully not too often, but when it does how you react immediately after the stomach-dropping hit you just took, sets you up for a big decision… Turn the disappointment not into lemonade but opportunity or let it paralyze you.
I had one such disappointment this summer and it had to do with my debut baseball romance, SAVING MAVERICK. I was so excited when Bloomsbury Spark offered me a contract this past March and chose a November 2015 release date. I had gleefully told my family, friends, complete strangers, “My book is coming out in November!” I’d posted it on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, my website. You name it. I had begun to pimp it, well everywhere.
So, July rolls around and I’m eager to receive my edit letter from well, my editor, but what I received instead was a nicely worded email asking me how I would feel if they changed the release date, for marketing purposes, to early 2016?… How would I feel? Sad, very-very sad.
I found myself with this huge decision to make. Do I kick and scream and demand I get my way like a toddler who’s lost their blanky and end up alienating my editor and the publisher and perhaps blow my opportunity for books two and three? <takes deep breath> Or do I set aside my “poor me” feelings and listen to the “oh, yeah, this makes sense” voice that appeared soon after the need for the pink stuff in a bottle faded away?
The change in release date had really nothing to do with me or the quality of the book, but more to do with “Hey, there is no baseball in November” and it just made better marketing sense to release it at the beginning of baseball season, the following year.
I have to tell you, I was kinda proud of myself. I could have spent a day (or two or three) in bed boo-hooing, eating ice cream and refusing to go outside, but I chose to listen to that voice that said “Yeah, this sucks, but it’s best for the success of the book.”
The more I thought about the initial disappointment the more I realized the best approach is to make sure something’s right first instead of forcing it to be right. I replied back the next day, and was honest with my editor. I admitted I was disappointed but I also wanted to make sure we set the book up for a successful release—even if it meant I would have to wait three extra months AND I had to tell everyone it wasn’t happening until next year. That was a tough one because everyone was so excited and happy for me.
I took the extra time I’d been given before I needed to dive into the editing process on SAVING MAVERICK, to begin writing a short story and another full length book, this time a romantic suspense. I entered it in a writing contest and forgot about it until it was chosen as a finalist, and then I pitched it to another publishing house, and they’re interested in reading it. (Now I just have to finish it LOL)
So there you go, silver lining. One I hadn’t been planning on, but which wouldn’t have happened if I’d let my disappointment paralyze me.
So, tell me how do you handle life’s disappointments? Or better yet, what have you learned from having gone through a disappointing experience?
Thank you Delilah for sharing your readers with me. (And for teaching the Roses Plotting Boot Camp!)
All my best,
Debra Elise
~*~
SAVING MAVERICK – Releases Early 2016 – It’s not yet up for pre-order, however you can go to GOODREADS and add it to your WANT TO READ list!
Maverick Jansen and Kelsey Sullivan fall into a complicated game of PR strategy by day and searing passion by night where they both find a new meaning to fast and hard.
STRIKE ONE
Days before the biggest game of playboy pitcher Maverick Jansen’s career, his brother is killed in a horrific car accident. Determined not to let his teammates down, Mav pushes through his grief only to lose control of his signature pitch—and the series.
STRIKE TWO
Still dealing with the backlash of his once adoring fans, Maverick learns his team’s owner plans to move the ball club to small town America. During a night of hard drinking Mav rails against the move to “Hicksville” while a fan records the entire tirade. His career takes another hit when the video goes viral right before spring training.
Kelsey Sullivan, Media Consultant, is hired by the team’s owner and her childhood friend, Thomas Scott, to help restore Maverick’s image and find a way to get his mojo back. As the daughter of a former minor league ball player who walked away from her and her unstable mother, Kelsey breaks her main client rule—no male athletes—to help her friend and gain a coveted position with the ball club.
STRIKE THREE, or…?
Persuaded to pretend they’re a couple against her better judgment, Kelsey and Maverick begin dating as a last ditch effort to secure his place on the team, fix his public image and prove to an unstable groupie who’s begun posting doctored photos on the internet that he’s taken.
In order to convince Kelsey what they have is more than just soul-shattering sex, Maverick digs deep, overcoming his commitment phobia and unexpected news to prove to Kelsey love can save them both. Can Kelsey bury her long-held belief that a bad boy baseball player isn’t the happily-ever-after type so they both can make the Show.
Excerpt from Saving Maverick:
Kelsey leaned against the railing and rolled the tension out of her neck and shoulders. How much longer should she hide out here before going back in? She didn’t want to chance looking around to check on T.S. and Maverick and get caught staring, again, so she kept her gaze on the still, dark blue lake below her.
So caught up in her memories, she hadn’t heard the terrace doors opening. She only noticed the footsteps right before a hand brushed her arm. She looked up and felt a shock of heat shoot straight to her core. It was him. Maverick Jansen and he was giving her his full attention.
“Excuse me miss. I hope I’m not intruding, but I really needed a break and you seemed so relaxed out here I just had to find out why for myself.”
She looked at America’s hottest baseball player out of the corner of her eye and snorted. Her body may be firing on all cylinders from his simple touch, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Really, is that a line you practiced or did it just come to you?” Kelsey asked.
“Well, now it got you to speak to me, so I think practiced or not, it had the desired result.” He smiled, and oh my, those dimples, Kelsey thought. He held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Rand Jansen, but everyone calls me Maverick.”
She allowed him to slip his sport roughed hand around her smaller one and tilted her head to the side. How should she play this? He may be the first man in a long time to make her feel even a twinge of sexual interest, but they would soon be working together. Maybe she should test him? See exactly how he would handle a woman turning him down.
“Kelsey.” She responded.
“Just Kelsey?” He asked.
“For now.” She smiled.
“Do you usually go by just one name? Are you a secret agent or something?” Maverick grinned again.
“Or something.” She took a slight step back, to gain a bit of control and for her sanity. She could feel her nipples pebbling against her camisole and was glad she wore a blazer for her meeting with T.S., otherwise Maverick would be able to see the effect he was having on her.
She shouldn’t be having such an intense reaction. It had taken a mere brush of his hand and the sound of his sinful voice to wind her up. She needed to get a grip and get off the terrace — fast.
BIO: Debra Elise lives with her husband and their two sons in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. She loves to read, nap, write, and watches entirely too much reality T.V. She also enjoys a good nap (oops that’s a repeat), hanging out with other author-type individuals and teasing her three ‘boys’ into displaying their killer smiles. Most days find her carpooling, avoiding laundry and daydreaming about her characters and how to make them come alive for her readers.
I’ll assume that y’all already know that book #4 in the Night Fall series released yesterday. I hope you love it! And there are more stories coming in the series—Knight Edition and Night Fall on Dark Mountain, and more stories beyond the six I’m revising and re-releasing. The first story I’ll tackle after book #6 will be the mysterious Viper’s story. I left him in a bit of pickle for far too long…
In the meantime, I’m still writing shorties—because I have to! When I’m between stories and feeling like I just don’t have the energy to start another longer project, writing a shorty gives me a kind of creative break. I hope you’ll give them a try.
Today, I uploaded a short story I wrote on Monday (yes, I can write one of these in one or two days!). It’s my latest Stepbrothers Stepping Out short story. So, you know it’s super naughty. It involves a little sexual blackmail, BDSM, voyeurism, menage… And I managed all that in just 6700 words. 🙂 As soon as it’s live, I’ll post the link here. Be watching for it!
As for the contest, the question I’d like answered is in the subject line of this blog!I’ll choose one winner. The prize will be the winner’s choice of any of the stories on the shorties carousel below!
Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Boss
“Would you come inside my office, Zoe?”
I’d have recognized that smooth whiskey voice anywhere. My nerves jangled and my breath hitched. I picked up my notepad and a pen and stood, smoothing down the sides of my knee-length skirt. Then I walked to his door and let myself in. His office was huge. Two monitors sat atop his desk, to the side, giving me a view of his upper body and thick dark hair. He was looking downward at an open file.
I took a deep breath to calm myself and strode toward his desk. “Mr. Patterson—”
“Trace, seeing as you had sex in my pool.”
My jaw dropped. His head lifted and his dark gaze narrowed on my expression. Heat filled my cheeks, and I wondered if I was about to be fired.
He waved a hand at the chair pulled close to the front of his desk, and I sat, landing a little hard because my knees gave out.
“Nothing to say?” he said, his voice low and cool.
“I apologize. I hope you won’t think less of Grayson. It was all my idea.”
“I know.” His head canted to the side, and his gaze moved from my face to my white blouse and lower. “Would you like to know how I know?”
Because I didn’t know what the right answer might be, I nodded.
He turned one of the monitors toward me. In the center was a video frame.
With the touch of a button, I watched as I stepped behind the falls, took a seat and then began to strip off my underwear. The resolution was terrific. So good, I could see my taut nipples. Then Grayson arrived and the footage continued to play.
Until that moment, I didn’t realize just how good Gray and I looked together. Neither of us made horrible faces when we made love. The muscles of his broad shoulders flexed, as did those of his buttocks. His pace was quite athletic.
I watched as I pleasured myself , tonguing my own nipples. Watched Grayson watching me, his blue gaze darkening as it trailed down my breasts to my quickly toggling finger.
The video stopped, and I realized not only was my face flushed, but my entire body was hot. I’d grown aroused.
And from the dark glint in Trace’s brown eyes, he knew it.
I swallowed hard then cleared my throat. “I can’t have been the first guest to fuck in your pool.” I nearly died, my tongue getting in front of my brain. I’d never been able to curb it. Especially when I was angry.
The corners of his mouth twitched, then his lips settled into a firm, straight line. “You’re very new. I’ve been looking over your personnel file.”
My gaze darted to the folder. “I know I don’t have much of a resume. Frankly, I was surprised when your company hired me.”
“I like young employees , love the energy,” he said, his voice smooth but not giving a hint of what he was really thinking. “They bring fresh ideas. And I like setting them free to become who they are meant to be.”
I nearly rolled my eyes at that bit of metaphysical crap, but managed to keep my gaze fixed on him. That wasn’t so hard. His strong featured-face was very striking. Not pretty in the least. Overtly masculine. Again, heat flared, settling in my belly. I shifted in my seat. “You aren’t exactly decrepit yourself.”
He flashed a quick smile then gave me another sharp stare. “I like employees who take risks. Who are open to new ideas.”
“I’m just a secretary. I’m not going to redesign a computer operating system.” Good lord, would I ever shut up?
He tapped his finger against the top of his desk. “Tell me about your… brother.”
*~*~*
I know I’m a terrible tease. Just when you were getting to the good part…
Anyways… It’s brand new. Something you can read, in its entirety, while you’re waiting in the doctor’s office, during your lunch break, or right before bed. A smutty little bit of pleasure. And there’s more below!
To see more of my currently available short stories, check out this page: Short Stories
Have you heard of Kindle Worlds? I admit, it was pretty much new to me, but when I found out what it was, I got excited. Especially since one of my favorite authors had a world, and I was invited to play in it.
So, KW, in case you don’t know, is basically when authors get to play in other authors’ worlds. In this case, I got to write a short novella set in the world of Carly Phillips’ Dare To Love series. The funny thing? I had no trouble knowing which character I wanted to write. He made an impression on me when he was only mentioned by first name one time in one story. I chose Garrett, Gabriel Dare’s bodyguard. He’s only mentioned in Dare To Surrender, (Book 3 in the series) at one time, when the heroine Isabelle asks Gabe to promise he won’t hurt her ex. Gabe’s reply is something along the lines of. “I won’t , but I can’t make any promises where Garrett’s concerned.” She asks who Garret is, and the reply is “My Bodyguard, he’s a former SEAL.” or something along those lines (read the book yourself to find out for sure…I promise, it’s enjoyable for more than the mention of Garrett)
Anyway, I knew I wanted to write Garrett. I’ve never written a SEAL, (although Adam from Overwatch is a former Green Beret, and Simon, and some others are ex-Army). So, the first question was: Why is he no longer a SEAL? And, how did he become the bodyguard to a billionaire?
Then came the who’s his mate question. *ggg*
Here’s what I came up with, because I like to have fun when I write.
What happens when a man who’s lost his passion meets up with a lusty woman who knows what she wants…and what she wants is him.
Bodyguard Garrett Ross likes his quiet life in his quiet building, so when the sexy girl next door hits on him, he passes. After all, this former Navy SEAL knows better than to shoot holes in his own boat, no matter how bold she is in her naughty ways. But then he gets a glimpse of the woman behind the daring facade, and he can’t help but be intrigued.
Tasha Howard prides herself on being fearless. Growing up in foster-care she learned quick that she could only depend on herself, and if she wanted something, she had to go after it. So when she moves into her new apartment and gets a good look at her mouthwatering neighbor, she decides it’s time to go hard, and go home with him.
If only her inner shy girl would quit getting in the way.
“Hold, please!” Natasha Howard hefted her duffle bag higher on her shoulder and dashed forward to catch the elevator doors before they closed. It had been a crazy busy day, and she was not in the mood to stand and wait for the thing to come back down. And she certainly wasn’t going to climb the stairs to the sixth floor hauling her gear. With the luck she’d been having, she’d likely trip and break an ankle or something.
A muscled arm shot out between the elevator doors, halting their progress, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thanks,” she huffed as she strode into the car.
“No problem.”
Instantly, her mood improved. It was him, the stud from 6B who had been fueling her fantasies ever since she moved into the building three weeks earlier. She’d only caught sight of him a couple of times, when he drove past her in the parking lot, or from her balcony as he exited the building, but he’d made an impression.
G. Ross. Yeah, she’d checked the intercom listings for a name after noting what parking stall he used. She didn’t know for sure what the G stood for, but it didn’t stop her from thinking about him. She leaned back as the doors slid shut, trying not to stare, but she couldn’t help herself. Her eyes were beyond her control, and they just stayed glued to him.
Geez, she’d thought he was good looking from afar, but there, in close quarters, he was devastating. Dark rumpled hair, five o’clock shadow shading his firm jaw and framing his full lips. Lips almost too full for a man. They should look out of place, but instead, they made her mind boggle with thoughts of how they would feel pressed against hers, or any other part of her body. Ohh, she wanted to bite and suck at them and thrust her tongue between them as she rubbed against his hard body like a cat in heat.
She bit back a hungry growl, blushing hotly when he glanced her way. Their gazes met for a brief second before he went back to staring straight ahead. Heat swamped her body and suddenly she was back in high school with butterflies fluttering low in her stomach while she struggled not to stutter and stammer when a boy she thought was cute spoke to her.
But he hadn’t said anything. And she wasn’t in high school anymore.
Before she could analyze what was happening, her mouth was running off without her brain.
“Hey, 6B, I’m your new neighbor in 6A,” she said, holding her hand out to him. “Tasha Howard.”
He pulled his gaze from the elevator buttons and looked at her with piercing dark eyes. “Garrett Ross,” he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze and shake that sent tingles up her arm, and straight to her core.
Freedom is being bold, she reminded herself.
“You don’t talk much, hmm? More of the strong silent type?” Ignoring the heat crawling up her neck she eyed his wide shoulders appreciatively.
The doors slid open and, like a gentleman, he gestured for her to precede him out of the elevator. “You looked like you had a rough day, so I thought it best to leave you alone. That’s all.”
“I look that rough?”
A heavy brow arched over those sharp dark eyes. “There’s really no good way for me to answer that, is there?”
“Sure, there is,” she said as they moved down the hallway, side by side. “You tell me I look gorgeous, and that since I’ve obviously had a frustrating — not rough, because that can be misconstrued — day, that you’d like to make me feel better by inviting me over for a welcome-to-the-building drink.”
Her door was closest to the elevator, and she slowed when they reached it. He didn’t.
“You are gorgeous, but I’m not much for drinking.” He reached his own door, less than twenty feet from hers, and unlocked it. He turned her way and said “But I hope you have a good night, and welcome to the building.”
Then he was gone, and she was left standing in the hallway with her keys in her hand and a racing heart.
She stood there like an idiot for a solid thirty seconds before clicking her deadbolt open and heading in. Damn, she’d known he was good looking from the glimpses she’d seen in the past couple of weeks, but nothing had prepared her for the impact of Garrett Ross up close…and boy howdy did she want to get personal with him. So very very personal.
And how weird was that? She never wanted to get personal with people. Tasha prided herself on being bright, bold, and shiny on the outside but never letting anyone past that hard-won shell of an exterior.
Sexual, yes. She was a normal healthy twenty-seven-year-old female and she enjoyed her body and the pleasure it provided. People seemed to forget that it was human nature to crave physical closeness. Science had proven time and time again that the human touch had healing properties. She knew it could do a shitload of damage as well, but she’d learned long ago that it was easier to heal physical damage than emotional, which meant she was a lot braver with her body than her heart.
Sadly, it seemed her hot neighbor wasn’t interested in the getting personal in any way, shape, or form.
~*~*~
Contest
So…what do you think? You like it? Let me know what you think in the comments, and be entered to win a Download of Lush, Unfettered, or Primal.
Winner will be notified on Friday morning!
Be sure to check it out on Amazon. Sorry to non Amazon readers, but this is a Kindle World, and it;s exclusive to Amazon. But remember you can read Kindle stories on you laptop, desktop, tablet or smart phone as well with the kindle app. 🙂
~*~*~
Excerpt 2 :
Garrett took her to dinner at a small Italian restaurant in Brooklyn, not far from the club where Steven’s— Stephanie’s show was going to be. It was a noisy place because it was packed busy on a Saturday night, but each table had an intimate vibe. Or at least theirs did as they ate and talked family. She told Garrett about losing her parents when she was seven then living in foster-care.
“Is that why you have trust issues?” he asked.
Startled, she stared at him over her veal Marsala. “I don’t have trust issues.”
He just raised an eyebrow, and she sighed. One day, she was going to get something by him. “Okay, maybe a little bit. It’s not so much that I don’t trust, it’s more that …I don’t have to have friends to be happy. I mean, I’m friendly with co-workers, and people I meet, and—“
“Everybody,” he said wryly.
She shrugged daintily. “I’m a friendly gal, but, yeah, just because I’m friendly with them doesn’t make them my friends. If that makes sense?”
“It makes perfect sense. You might not have many people you call friends or family, but the ones you do, you’ll do anything for. The rest are just background noise.”
Stunned, she stared at him. “That’s a bit callous, but, yeah, you pretty much summed it up.”
“Gavin, my younger brother, is like you. He’s a bit of a wildman, doing anything and everything to get a laugh and get along. But the people he actually cares for are few and far between.”
“Are you guys close?” she asked, taking a sip of the red wine he’d ordered for her and trying to imagine what a younger, wild version of Garrett would be like. Holy hell on the hormones, that’s what he’d be like.
“Yeah. Our dad was army; both of us went into the Navy. That should tell you a few things.”
“It was always the two of you against the world?”
He nodded, and even though he didn’t say anything more, she saw something happening with him. A flicker of sadness in his eyes that tugged at her heart. Here sat a man who grew up in a military family, became a Navy SEAL himself, the top echelon of alpha badass dudes, had his brother, and closest friend still in the Navy, and was forced to retire while still in his prime.
It explained a lot, especially the way his smile had never really reached his eyes when she first met him. In the past twenty-four hours, though, she’d seen those same eyes gleam with intelligence, laughter, and lust.
Wanting that again, she leaned forward and said, “How do you feel about anal sex?”
His gaze snapped to hers, and his jaw dropped open a little. Shaking his head, he chuckled. “You are a handful, aren’t you?”
She gave him a flirty look from under her lashes. “What can I say? I realized that you never did tell me what your favorite sexual position was, and we are trying to get to know each other better.” And now his mind was back in the present and not thinking about all he’d given up.
He licked his lips and gave her a look hot enough to melt her panties. “I’d have to say that, as of last night, my favorite position is balls deep in your tight, wet, pussy with your whimpers and cries echoing through the room.”
Oh.
Oh, Lord. Her panties hadn’t melted, but they were on fire. On no, that was her pussy, not her panties. Oh shit. She stared at him, lust pounding through her veins, and struggled to get her brain online again.
“Is everything okay here?”
“Everything’s perfect,” he told the waiter without looking away from her. “I think we’ll just take the bill now, though.”
Female or male, what’s the first physical feature that grabs your attention?
I recently heard of a study where women were shown 75 pictures of men, and they overwhelmingly agreed it was a guy’s smile that called to them. Now, I’m not sure if these were only headshots being viewed or if the women responding were just being PC ;-), but I will boldly admit that the first thing I notice is a man’s chest. Given the mass quantities of bare-chested photos posted to Facebook pages, I’m inclined to think I’m not alone here!
Though, for argument’s sake, let’s say the photos viewed were only headshots. (I know, where was the fun in that study??!) What is the first defining feature you notice? Is it neatly trimmed or strategically messy hair? Is it dreamy or alert eyes? Is it a playful smirk or a sexy smile? Is it a strong, clean-shaven jaw or a scruffy one?
Although I know eyes are supposed to be the windows to the soul, for me, a smile says it all. First, it can hold honesty. That’s probably the most important quality of a smile. Beyond that, my favorite expressions include the Billy Idol sneer from the ‘80s/’90s (think “Rock the Cradle of Love” or “White Wedding”). I’m pretty sure that man has left millions of wet thongs in his wake. I’m also hugely fond of the smoldering, bad-boy smirk. You know, the one that says, “I can easily make you come ten times in an hour if given the chance,” without even saying a word!
Like purposely messy hair and edgy dispositions, not all men can pull off the sneer or the smirk—or the wicked intentions they promise. Perhaps that’s why I find them so alluring. 😉
I’d love to hear what you find sexy, endearing, or engaging about facial features. Leave a comment and you’re entered to win either an autographed, print version of the Advance Reader’s Copy of Book 1 in my upcoming St. Martin’s Press trilogy releasing Oct. 6, BURNED DEEP (US delivery), or the electronic version.
And keep those bare-chested photos coming on Facebook!
Happy Autumn!
Calista
*~*
WHAT LOLA WANTS (Grand Central Publishing/Forever Romance)—NOW ON SALE!
Calista is a former PR professional, now writing fast-paced, steamy books to set your pulse racing! Her publishing houses include St. Martin’s Press, Grand Central Publishing and Harlequin. Her debut SMP trilogy opens with BURNED DEEP and concludes with a new book four, starring the trilogy’s secondary hero! She is an Amazon bestseller and has won many Reviewer’s and Reader’s Choice Awards, as well as Best Book Awards and other competitions with publication as first prize. Calista is a college graduate and teaches online writing classes. She is also a Past President/Advisor of the Desert Rose Phoenix chapter of the Romance Writers of America national organization. Visit her at: www.calistafox.com, www.facebook.com/calistafox and www.twitter.com/calistafoxbooks
I write small town contemporary romance, along with what sometimes seems to be most of the Romance world. I started with Konigsburg, Texas, and then shifted to Salt Box, Colorado, in a shift that mirrored my own actual move from San Antonio to Denver. But when I say I write about small towns, I need to make an important distinction. My small towns may not be what cross your mind when you think of small towns. My small towns—both of them—are resort towns.
What’s the difference? Basically, resort towns have a different set of objectives from the average small town. Both Konigsburg and Salt Box depend on appealing to outsiders. Tourists are responsible for a large part of their economies, and this has an interesting effect on the way the towns function. Resort towns, in my experience, tend to be more outgoing, more open to new ideas and fashions. They have to keep attracting outsiders, which means they have to change with the times.
And yet they’re still small towns, meaning people know each other and support each other in the way many other small towns do. It’s this combination of sophistication and tradition that fascinates me, I admit. And the actual resort towns my books are based on—Fredericksburg, TX and Steamboat Springs, CO—are favorites of mine.
My latest book, Finding Mr. Right Now, is about a collision between show business and a small resort town. Saltbox, Colorado, is a summer and winter recreational resort that has to put up with the invasion of a reality show, Finding Mr. Right. The locals are friendly but a little taken aback by the outsiders, and a lot of the disagreements between the two groups take place at the Blarney Stone, a local bar loved by locals and visitors alike. Here’s a quick scene where Clark Denham, the owner of a local hotel (and hero of Saltbox Book 2, Love in the Morning, releasing on January 5) tries to explain the origins of the town’s name to some slightly confused Hollywood types (any resemblance to the story of how Tin Cup, Colorado, got its name is purely coincidental):
“Salt Box.” Monica turned to Clark Denham. “Why is it called Salt Box? Is it the name of a mountain?”
He gave her a lazy smile. “Do you want the real answer or the classic answer?”
“Can’t I have both?”
“Sure.” He picked up his beer. “The real answer is nobody knows exactly.”
“And the classic answer?”
“…is a story, of course. Starts when the town wasn’t a town yet. Just a stagecoach stop and a potential stop on the railroad that was supposed to go through and didn’t.” He took another swallow. “Sorry—off topic. Anyway, the people who lived here decided they needed to be an honest-to-god town, which meant they needed a name. With me so far?”
Monica nodded.
“Anyway, they figured they’d let the people in town vote on what name they liked best. So they asked people to write down their suggestions and put them in an empty salt box at the general store.”
Paul raised an eyebrow. “I think I see where this is headed.”
“Yeah, well, keep it to yourself. You’ll ruin my concentration.” Denham gave him a dry smile. “So they had a couple of weeks for everybody to come up with their suggestions for a name and put them in the salt box. Then they called a town meeting so they could have a vote to choose the name everybody liked best.”
Ronnie frowned. “But they should have given people time to think first. I mean, they should have told them the names everybody came up with and then let them kind of talk it over. Because at first they might not have liked some of the names, but after a while they might have decided, okay, that’s not a bad name after all. So everybody would have been happy.”
Denham’s mouth edged into another smile, this one friendly. “That makes a lot of sense, but I think the people in town just wanted to get the whole thing over with. Decide on the name so they could get a post office and then move on.”
Ronnie gave a little puff of disapproval. “Patience is a virtue.”
Denham blinked, then took a breath. “Okay, so we’ve got the townspeople all coming together at the general store. Gonna choose a name and get cracking on having a real town. Civilization here we come.”
Monica leaned forward. “And?”
“And they upended the salt box to get all the suggestions, but there was nothing there.”
Ronnie’s eyes widened. “Nothing? No names or anything?”
“Not even salt?” Paul murmured.
Monica gave him a quelling glance.
Denham shook his head. “Nothing. Nobody had suggested anything. So they decided to name the town after the box. Sort of a reminder that community spirit isn’t always too reliable around here.”
“But that’s sad.” Ronnie’s eyes were suspiciously bright. “Why didn’t somebody suggest something when they found out there weren’t any other suggestions? Maybe name it after their wife or their girlfriend or something. Didn’t they even care about what happened?”
“That’s one possibility.” Denham took another swallow of his beer. “Of course, it’s also possible that nobody could think of anything good enough, and they were afraid to suggest something bad.”
“Or maybe they all figured somebody else would come up with something, so they didn’t bother. That happens a lot.” Saltzman, the bar owner, grinned at Ronnie.
“Maybe.” Her eyes still looked faintly tearful.
Monica sighed. “It didn’t turn out too badly, Ronnie. I mean, Salt Box is a unique name. It’s a lot more memorable than some places I’ve been.”
“Thank you.” Denham bowed slightly in her direction. “I feel that way myself. Better to live in Salt Box than to live in someplace called Highland Park Acres. The town’s got a flair for the unexpected.”
Monica McKellar, associate producer of Finding Mr. Right, is desperate. One of the show’s bachelors has bailed one week before shooting starts. She not only needs a replacement ASAP, he has to get the temperamental bachelorette’s stamp of approval.
Fortunately there’s a hot guy right under her nose who’s a perfect fit. Unfortunately, he pushes all her hot buttons. Until the show’s over, her hands—and every other part of her body—are tied.
When Paul DeWitt signed on to write for the reality show, “Bachelor #10” wasn’t supposed to be in his job description. He fully expects to be cut early on, which will free him to focus on the real object of his attraction. Monica.
Instead, he’s a finalist, and they’re all packed in an SUV climbing the Continental Divide, headed for Salt Box, Colorado. Where stampeding horses, vindictive tabloid editors, and one capricious bachelorette’s waffling over suitors may conspire to end Paul and Monica’s romance before it even starts.
Warning: Contains hot sex on the sly, cold nights, creaking wicker couches, and a gypsy wagon that gives a whole new appreciation for the pioneers.
My body feels like I’ve taken ten rounds in a boxing ring. My shoulders, back, but especially my feet, ache something fierce!
Last night, I went to the county fair with my dd’s family. I rode only one ride—the Ferris wheel with the 6-year-old (I had to promise not to rock the car, she knows me). Our fair is small, but has everything you’d expect from an old-fashioned fair: a very small rodeo, animals kids raised, an art competition, rides, games and bad food.
The 2-year-old had THE best time. She couldn’t ride much because she was too small, but her eyes were round and she didn’t fuss the whole evening. She loved the carousel but hated funnel cake. She loved the balloons, but wanted her daddy to pop them. The 11-year-old met up with friends from school and raced from ride to ride. Oh, to have their energy!
Since my mind is on my aches and that warm feeling still lingering from watching all the fun the kids had, my questions are these:
When was the last time you went to the county fair? And what do you love about the fair?
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BIO: Debra Elise lives with her husband and their two sons in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. She loves to read, nap, write, and watches entirely too much reality T.V. She also enjoys a good nap (oops that’s a repeat), hanging out with other author-type individuals and teasing her three ‘boys’ into displaying their killer smiles. Most days find her carpooling, avoiding laundry and daydreaming about her characters and how to make them come alive for her readers.
I recently heard of a study where women were shown 75 pictures of men, and they overwhelmingly agreed it was a guy’s smile that called to them. Now, I’m not sure if these were only headshots being viewed or if the women responding were just being PC ;-), but I will boldly admit that the first thing I notice is a man’s chest. Given the mass quantities of bare-chested photos posted to Facebook pages, I’m inclined to think I’m not alone here!
Reality can be hotter than fiction.
