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Showing posts with label A Perfect Man. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A Perfect Man. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Outtake Tuesday: Cut Scene from A Perfect Man



When we pick up a book from the bookshelf, we're (hopefully) getting something that's been through multiple rounds of revisions and edits. We don't often get to see the early drafts and "mistakes." I decided, for the entertainment of my readers and for the use of anyone who wants to see why certain scenes or characters don't make it into a final draft, to post cut scenes from my published works.

A Perfect Man, which was released in May, has a lot of them because I worked on that book for a long time, off and on for three or four years. I have several cut scenes files, not sure why. Here are the contents of one of them, the original chapter five. An early version of the book had some extra characters, and others had different names. Phoebe, who I'll bring in a later book, is a biology student who is taking classes in the MFA program. I combined Carl and Albie into just Albie. Iain turned into Isaac, Sarah into Samantha.

Confused yet? Here's the deleted scene (warning - adult language):

Sarah sighed and put her face in her hands.  This was going to be tough.  Really tough.  Karen might complain about her story being hijacked, but at least it meant she would have help!  Meanwhile, she would discover the difference between writing what you know and putting yourself through hell to purge the wound you inflicted on yourself and your family.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”  The voice was familiar, soothing.  It was also the voice that had told her, “You don’t have to feel guilty about this.”

“Fuck off,” she told it.  She opened a new document in Word and started writing.

[story excerpt]

Those mesmerizing green eyes…  “Are you kidding me?” she asked herself.  The phone rang.  It was Karen.

“I’m convening a session of the Bitch Club,” she said.

Sarah wiped the tear that crept down her cheek, smearing it up with the heel of her hand.  “I’m…kind of busy right now.  I’m, um, writing.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, I’ll be fine.  Are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where are we meeting?”

Even late on a Sunday night, the coffee shop was crowded, but Phoebe had gotten a table.  Or, judging from the books piled there, Phoebe had already been camped out there all afternoon.

“Work hard today?” asked Sarah.  She was the first one there.

Phoebe rolled her eyes and piled stuff so that Sarah could have space for her notebook.  “I’m always working.  And I can’t get this damn book off the ground.  It would be so much easier if humans just reproduced by splitting themselves.  Damn romance.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Are you okay?"

Sarah sighed.  Why did people keep asking her that?  “Yeah, I’m fine.  What do you want to drink?”

When she got back, Phoebe still sat alone.  “Hey, Phoebe, question.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you ever do anything you really regretted?  Like really hated yourself for?”

Phoebe frowned.  “Not recently.”

“That’s a nice, evasive answer.  I’m being serious.”

“I am, too.  I’ve spent a lot of time and energy trying to get past all that stuff.”  She shrugged.  “It’s just not worth it to drag it all out again.”

“Ah.”  She wrapped her hands around the ceramic mug.  The smooth curves fit her hands perfectly, and although the heat stung her skin, she found it to be comforting.

“Is there something you want to talk about, Sarah?”  She saw that Phoebe was looking at her, her pretty cornflower blue eyes dark with concern.

Sarah shrugged.  “It’s this writing project.  It’s like I’ve got all this stuff that I need to get out, to purge, but I’m afraid of what I’m going to find underneath.”

“Like what?”

Karen and Lillian walked through the door before she could answer.  Although the two young women were close in age, they couldn’t be more different in how they carried themselves.  Karen looked young but with that confident air of a woman with her whole life ahead of her in spite of the pensive expression on her face.  Lillian, only five or six years older, had that certain walk that women only had after they had given birth.  Not that it was any less confident, but more careful.  She smiled easily, but there was always a shadow lurking behind it, a whole cache of worries just below the surface about her family, especially her three kids.

“I’m surprised you were able to get away,” Karen said to Lillian as they sat down.

She nodded.  “Me, too, but Paul said to go ahead.  I think he’s relieved that I finally have some female friends, even if they’re in that program he doesn’t see the point in.”

Sarah felt her cheeks grow hot.  She’d never met Paul, but she already hated him.  “Then screw him!”

Lillian smiled, gently.  “I did.  And I’ve got three kids to show for it.”

Sarah couldn’t help but laugh.  “Touché.  So what’s the call for the bitch club?”

Karen sighed.  “Y’know, I’ve been thinking that I must be stupid to call y’all together for a mere hunch, but I think that Seth is up to something.”

“Was tonight your meeting with him?” Phoebe asked.

“Yep.”

“How’d it go?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate him any less, but he was way too agreeable.”

“Even to the idea that his precious Harrison isn’t the perfect man for Lila?”

“He managed to sidestep it.”

Sarah blew on the surface of her coffee.  “I wonder what the other guys told him.”

Karen snorted.  “Who knows?”  She looked around.  “Does anyone want anything?”

“The usual,” Lillian told her.

“Cool.  I’ll get this round.”

When Karen left, Lillian leaned forward, and Phoebe and Sarah leaned in as well.  Lillian checked behind her shoulder to make sure Karen indeed stood in line, and with a small grin said, “I think that they’ll end up together.”

“Who?  Harrison and Lila?”

“No, Phoebe, Karen and Seth.”

Phoebe shook her head.  “No way.  I mean how cliché would that be?”

“Besides,” Sarah added, “you don’t want to shit where you eat, if you know what I mean.  We’ve still got almost two years in this program.  What if it didn’t work out?”

“But what if it did?  They could be a cute writing team.”

“Until things go sour, then they’d be in a cute legal mess.”  Sarah shook her head.  “No way in hell.”

“Fine,” said Lillian.  “Want to put a wager on it?”

Sarah sat back and pondered for a moment.  “If we’re going to wager on our friend’s happiness, we need to make it worthwhile.”

“How about a hundred dollars?”

Phoebe whistled.  “A hundred dollars?”

Lillian looked at her.  “And don’t even think about asking what my husband would think.  Yes, a hundred dollars.”

Sarah stuck her hand out.  “You’re on!  Phoebe?”

The petite blonde shook her head.  “Too rich for my blood.”

“Fine, then, you can be the monitor.  You can make sure that neither of us is trying to influence the outcome, that we play fair.”

When Phoebe hesitated, Sarah added, “And whoever wins has to give you twenty percent.”

“Deal.”

Karen returned with her decaf soy latte and Lillian’s iced white mocha.  “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing, really.”

She sat down.  “So what do I do?”

Sarah opened her mouth, but Phoebe’s look stopped her from giving Karen the advice she thought she should.  She couldn’t try to influence the outcome of the bet.  “I think you should just follow your heart.”  The words felt strange on her tongue.  Look where following her heart had led her.

“That’s not exactly what I was hoping for.”  Karen slumped back in her chair.

“I think Sarah’s right,” Lillian said.  “We can’t decide this for you.”

“But…”  Karen looked at each of them in turn.  “This is why I called the Bitch Club to order!  I need some advice here, ladies!”

“I think you should find out what the other guys have told him to do,” Phoebe told her.  “He doesn’t seem to be able to stand very much on his own.  I’m betting he went to the others for help.”

Sarah nodded.  “I’m sure Carl and Albie have lots of advice for him, the young fella.”  They all laughed.

“Yeah, and Iain seems to be somewhat of a smooth operator,” Lillian added.  “This isn’t just your project, Karen, it’s a class project.”

“In which case you should find out where the class is steering him, at least the guys.”

Karen nodded, slowly.  “In that case, each of you gets to corner one of them.  I can’t because it would look suspicious.  Who wants who?”

“I’ll take Iain,” Phoebe volunteered.  “I’m too nervous to tackle one of the older guys.  And Iain knows me from the restaurant.”

“You hang out at the Chocolate Chasm?”

“All in the name of observational research, of course.”  Phoebe blushed.  “And believe me, there’s lots to observe.”

Sarah couldn’t resist.  “Any bodice-ripping going on?”

Phoebe blushed even deeper.  “Nope, at least not there.  I make predictions as to whose bodice will be ripped later that evening.  Not that I, um, ever find out.”

“I’ll take Carl,” Lillian said.  “He seems to like me.  I think I remind him of his daughter or something.”

Sarah sighed.  “That leaves Albie for me.  God, what a prick.”

“But you’re the best one to be able to handle him.  You’re feisty!”

“Maybe a little too feisty for my own good.”  Sarah sighed again.  “Fine, I’ll take Albie.”  She looked at the others. “But you all owe me coffee for not having to do it yourself.”

Karen laughed.  “That’s fine.  We’ll meet here the same time next week, and y’all can tell me what you found.”

Sarah and Phoebe walked out to their cars together.

“It’s going to be an interesting week,” Sarah remarked.

“No kidding.”  Phoebe looked at Sarah through her blonde curls.  “Hey, we never got to finish our conversation.”

“That’s okay, I don’t really know if I wanted to finish it.”

“Well, if you need to talk, I’m free tomorrow morning before class.”

“That’s sweet of you, Phoebe, but I’ll be fine.”  Really, she said to herself as she got in her car, I’ll be fine.  She waited for the voice to argue with her, but tonight it was silent.

---

Why this scene got cut:

1. The book ended up being on the long end for me and Samhain as it was, so there was no room for the wager subplot.

2. I didn't want Karen catching on to Seth's interest so soon.

3. I wanted to pare the book down to just Karen and Seth's points of view.

If you'd like to check out the final version of A Perfect Man, you can read an excerpt here.

Or if you'd like to buy it, you can find it at Samhain Publishing, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Books, iTunes, and anywhere else books are sold. It was one of About.com's ten romance novels not to miss in May.

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

RT Debriefing, Upcoming Events, and Rafflecopter Winners


I survived my first RT convention last week in Dallas. It was intense but also a lot of fun to talk with other authors and - best of all - readers. Here's what I learned:

1. There are a lot of authors. It's a common lament that now that anyone can get a book published, the market is flooded. What's not stated enough is how supportive authors are of each other. Even the famous ones were friendly, and it was great to meet people face to face whom I've only interacted  with online.

2. It seems like most people read (and write) more than one genre. This made me very happy since I've now gotten contracts in three but can only handle one pen name, so I feel like I'm up against a branding challenge. It's really nice to know others are in the same or a similar situation.

3. My strategy of not sharing a room at conferences is the correct one for me, even if it does make attending more expensive. I didn't do a lot of the evening activities and am still exhausted even though I've had two days to recover. I call it an introvert hangover.

I'm much better today, though, so here are a couple of events I'm hoping some of y'all in the Atlanta area will join me for:


Tomorrow evening I'm leading a discussion of The Mountain's Shadow at Avondale Estates' Little Wine Shop. They'll have munchies and wine, and tickets are $15 apiece. I'll also have swag to give away. All you have to do is have already read (or read if you're really fast) The Mountain's Shadow and be female. Yep, it's the Wine, Women, & Words book club. You can RSVP here.


This coming Thursday, May 21, I'm having my belated release party for A Perfect Man at JavaMonkey in downtown Decatur. There will also be wine and munchies (see the theme?) as well as giveaways. All genders are welcome. How many genders are there? It is Decatur, after all. No RSVP necessary, but if you really want to let me know you're coming, please respond to my Facebook event.

Finally, I've tried to get in touch with the winners of the Rafflecopter giveaway for the $50 Visa Gift card, leather-bound journal, and autographed book. I did hear back from the necklace winner but haven't from the others. If you did enter the 12 Days to Perfect raffle, please check your spam folders. The first names and last initials of the winners are:

Gift card: Karrie M. (followed me on Twitter)
Journal: Rosie R. D. (liked my Facebook page)
Autographed BHB book: Wendy B. (liked my Facebook page, knows me irl)

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Release Day! A Perfect Man has arrived.

Look who's here!
 I'm so excited to announce that A Perfect Man has been released. Thanks to all of you who have participated in the 12 Days to Perfect blog hop - it's been a lot of fun. Thank you especially to the blog hop hosts.

For those who are curious as to what it's about, here's the blurb:

How far will she go to find her perfect man? How far will he go to be one?

When Karen Hardeman sets foot on the Foothills University campus, it’s her first step toward proving her abusive ex wrong. Just her luck, her first writing assignment in Intro to Romance sends her in search of the perfect hero—a quest she’s never managed to conquer.

Worse, her professor forces her to collaborate with the most overconfident, annoying guy in the class.

Seth Sayers is also at Foothills to find new direction—preferably one that takes him far away from the family drama that’s followed him since his father’s death. He didn’t mean to humiliate Karen by rewriting her manuscript from the hero’s point of view. He blames the painkillers the ER doctor gave him after stitching up a wine-induced cut on his hand.

As their collaboration progresses, Karen begins to trust Seth with her manuscript, then maybe a little piece of her heart. But Seth’s half-brother resurrects Seth’s suspicions about his father’s death. Until he finds the truth, he can’t be the hero in anyone’s life. Even his own.

Warning: Some alcohol consumption. Okay, writer amounts of alcohol consumption. There are also some adult situations, but nothing too explicit. It is a romance-writing class, after all.

At the time this blog was posted, it was on sale for $3.85 ebook and $11.89 trade paper from the Samhain Publishing Site.

Other order links include:


And anywhere else books are sold. The first couple of scenes are below if you'd like to check it out.

The Rafflecopter giveaway for some cool grand prizes will be active until tonight. If you'd like to know what the grand prizes are, click here.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Oh, and what's up with the Texas waffle? I'll be at the Romantic Times convention in Dallas over the weekend. Come say howdy!

Chapter One:

Karen Hardeman walked onto the campus of Foothills University, into her new life, and straight into her ex-boyfriend.

She was mentally counting the total number of steps from the Graduate Parking Lot entrance to the Student Center Annex, site of her first class, which had been intimidatingly dubbed a “seminar”, when she saw him. This was supposed to be a new beginning, a fresh start, a personal renaissance. But there he was, unmistakable with his hipster goatee, round tortoiseshell glasses, and hair just a little too long.

The thought, he probably needs to get new jacket photos done, spiked her brain simultaneously with a shot of triple-espresso-strength adrenaline straight from her gut to her heart. Both sent her scrambling behind a magnolia tree as he approached on the sidewalk. Luckily he was looking at his phone, so maybe he hadn’t seen her. Although his average-at-best appearance hadn’t changed much, he exuded his customary attitude of I’m a bestselling author, and I will do what I want.

Karen wondered if he’d forgiven her for telling him she had a surprise for him for his thirty-fifth birthday and moving out while he was away for the afternoon at a writing retreat. Probably not. He’d certainly been surprised, though.

“Hello, Karen.”

She looked up from her phone, which she’d been studying with all the logic of a cat who doesn’t think you can see it if it can’t see you. “Oh hi, Marius.” She tried to pull her lips into the ice-queen smile she’d practiced for just such an occasion, but all she could manage was convenience-store-slushie duchess.

“Lovely day here in the mountains, isn’t it?” He grinned like he’d just caught her sneaking buttercream icing out of the fridge—that had only happened a few times, and she’d justified it as a better coping mechanism than alcohol—and she leaned against the tree to preempt her spirit’s fetal-position reaction to his inevitable insult.

“Well,” he continued with that huge gotcha grin, “I was just visiting my good friend and former editor Sue Ellen Forrester-Schmidt. Maybe you’ve heard of her? She started the new MFA program in genre literature here. I just wanted to wish her luck on her first day.”

Karen reacquainted her upper molars with her lower ones so her mouth wouldn’t fall open. Of all the rotten, stinking luck!

“Yes,” he continued with a smug smirk, “my agent, Artie—you remember Artie, right?—introduced me to her at a party last year, and we hit it off. I heard she came here when Southern Lyon Books got bought and laid her off, so I was just checking in to see how she’s settling in.”

“How nice of you.” Karen sagged against the tree, its smooth bark solid under her arm and its steadiness supporting her, because life had become unfair once again.

“So what are you doing here? I wondered where you went.”

He wondered where she went, like she’d just left for a walk one day and hadn’t come back, not moved out of their little apartment and their life of almost a decade together.

“I decided to go back to school.” She tried to access her inner ninja and feinted left, then tried to pass him on the right, but he blocked her. He always blocked her.

“What program?”

“It’s a master’s program.”

“In what?”

Karen straightened to her full five and a half feet, almost as tall as him—which had always driven him crazy—and said, “It’s none of your business, Marius.”

He stepped aside and held a hand out for her to pass him, which she did. He waited until she was almost ten feet away before calling after her, “Tell Sue Ellen I said hello. Oh, and Karen? Surprise!”

She clenched her fists. Of course he knew. He always did. So instead of walking into her first class full of confidence and hope, she just knew the professor would hate her.

It was hard to move forward when the past kept biting her in the ass and dragging her back.


The cool of the Student Center Annex welcomed Karen like a polite hug—come on in, honey, but let’s not get too close. She checked the schedule and found the room. Thankfully, the professor hadn’t arrived yet, so she had time to compose herself.

Eyes down, she slunk to the only empty desk in the circle of six and slid in. The seat snagged the back of her thigh, and she was sure she’d just gotten a huge splinter. The encounter with Marius had left her confidence shriveled at the bottom of her gut, like a tequila worm burned by the immersion in his intoxicating but deadly ego. The burn stayed with her, reddening her cheeks, and she barely noticed as her classmates’ glances brushed over her. Each felt weighted with judgment—too fat, too frizzy, too cowardly, imposter.

She almost ran a hand through her dark curls but remembered she should leave them alone or else they’d turn her into a frizz monster, which would make her look even lovelier on top of the sunburn she’d acquired when she moved in the previous weekend. She could almost feel the freckles blooming on her skin. Sophisticated writer, that’s me.

This morning just got better and better, and now she was going to have to sit through an hour lecture on the romance genre. Hell, she needed Romance 101—the life course, not the writing course. What did she know about romance? Would she have to bare her soul and write sex scenes for strangers? What if they laughed at her like Marius had?

“Face it, babe.” His words from earlier that year echoed in her mind. “You can try this writing thing, but you just don’t have what it takes.”

The skin at the back of Karen’s neck tightened, and she knew Doctor Forrester-Schmidt had walked in and probably checked for her first, after talking with Marius. Oh God, what did he tell her? How screwed am I?

Karen had liked Doctor Forrester-Schmidt well enough at the program interview. Now, when the professor came in, she looked at each of the students intently, but her face didn’t reveal whether Marius had mentioned Karen. Not even a blink when their eyes met. Even now, at the end of August, the former editor in chief for Southern Lyon Books wore her signature long black skirt and suit jacket but seemed unfazed by the heat.

Is the woman even human?

“Welcome, class,” she said and surveyed them with a catlike half smile. “I’m glad to see the inaugural class for the genre literature program has such a range of backgrounds and ages. Let’s go around and introduce ourselves, shall we?”

Karen’s heart gave a little squeeze when Forrester-Schmidt’s cold, gray eyes passed over her, but the professor’s javelin gaze speared the guy next to Karen. She hadn’t paid much attention to him, aside from noting he doodled spaceships in the margins of his yellow pad. His shaggy, light-brown hair hung in his hazel eyes and made hers itch by looking at them, but he had sweet dimples and nice-looking lips. The vintage men’s shirt he wore showed off his biceps and the breadth of his chest nicely, and Karen wished she’d at least said hi when she sat.

“Why don’t you get us started, Seth?” the professor asked.

The young man next to Karen cleared his throat. “I’m a programmer who wants to put his computer knowledge to good use by writing and editing science fiction.”

“And does he always speak in the third person?”

“Um, no,” he mumbled, “I was just trying to be grammatically correct.”

“And although you succeeded grammatically, you failed stylistically. Karen, tell us about you, but please don’t use the royal I.”

Karen felt for the poor guy. Marius had liked catching her out like that, especially when she tried hard to impress someone. With an apologetic glance his way, she said, “Hi, I’m Karen. I most recently lived in Atlanta, but I grew up in Birmingham and went to school in Arkansas. I was a front-office manager for a medical practice, but I couldn’t take the politics and left to pursue my first love of writing. I was actually just there to support my writing habit.”

She waited for the chuckle, which didn’t come. Now Seth sent her a sympathetic glance.

She shifted in her seat and straightened. She didn’t need another guy’s pity, not today. “And, um, I’m not sure where I want to specialize. I’m just open to learning new things right now.”

“Thank you.” The professor looked around the room. “If you’re already tied to a specific genre, then you will be miserable during parts of this program because we expose you to all of them. Whether you go on to be a published author or have other plans for joining the publishing industry, the best thing we can do for you is give you an idea of what genre fiction has to offer. Who knows?” She smiled at Karen. “You might find something you didn’t realize you love right under your nose. You never know until you try.”

The knot of tension loosened in her chest, but then the panic returned when she wondered if Forrester-Schmidt meant she, the professor, had feelings for Marius.

Oh God, oh God.

Karen’s mind bounced the possibilities around, and she missed the other four class members’ introductions, aside from snippets.

“Now,” Doctor Forrester-Schmidt said and handed out the syllabus, “this is the first part of the program: Romance. This genre sells thousands of new titles per year, making it the most popular fiction category. We’ll also cover related genres like chick lit and women’s fiction, which are fair game for your semester projects. And while these areas seem to be the stronghold of women, men’s voices are also needed.” She raised an eyebrow at one of the other students, a redheaded guy who had rolled his eyes. “Even those who were raised in semirural Georgia and like to wear all black on their first day in school.”

The guy blushed like a redhead.

“While we will be reading plenty of excerpts, as well as writing a novella, your first assignment is to go to the bookstore and pick out what you think is a ‘typical’ romance novel.”

Karen flipped through the syllabus as the professor discussed what the “typical” romance novel might be. She would only consider buying one author for this assignment—Delilah Phillips. She wrote lighthearted contemporary and had been Karen’s savior during her darkest times with Marius.

“Ms. Hardeman?”

She looked up.

“If you will please rejoin us on this plane of existence. You may make your travels during speculative fiction, but writing romance, like love itself, requires your full presence and attention.”

This time the heat in Karen’s face wasn’t sunburn. “Sorry.”

Doctor Forrester-Schmidt towered over Karen’s desk and looked at the page she’d been reading. “Ah yes, our semester project. As an added bonus, I’ve booked one of my former authors to come into the class to speak toward the end of the semester. The student who has written the best project will go to dinner with this author and myself.” She looked around. “It’s someone who writes in the genre, but who has a more, shall we say, modern slant on it. The student with the best project, which will be judged by me and this author, will be able to spend an entire evening with…” she paused, “…Delilah Phillips.”

If it were possible to be simultaneously rooted to the ground and buoyant with joy, that was how Karen felt. She almost blurted out Delilah was her favorite author, but she didn’t want to seem an eager beaver trying to tip the odds in her favor.

She did a better job of looking like she paid attention during the second half of class, but her mind wandered to Ms. Phillips’s characters. She couldn’t wait to ask questions—like how did she come up with her heroines? Were they based on her life? What about the heroes? How did she come up with such flawed but utterly loveable men?



And did she have any advice on how Karen could find one for herself?



Monday, May 4, 2015

In Progress: 12 Days to Perfect Blog Hop


So here we are about a week before A Perfect Man comes out, and I'm so excited! I'm currently doing a 12 Days to Perfect Blog Hop, and here's where I've been so far:

5/1/15 Magic City Writing blog:  Meet the adorable kitten Timothy Mouse (aka the intern, see photo to the right) as he spills about his mom's writing process and how he takes revenge on his humans for putting him in time out.

5/2/15: Paperbacks & Papercuts blog: M.V. Freeman dug around in my writerly brain with a fun author interview.

5/3/15: Linda Joyce's blog: Meet Karen, the heroine of A Perfect Man, as she comes in for an initial therapy session.

5/4/15: Debbie Herbert's blog. Debbie posted my first Goodreads review and also has the blurb and first couple of scenes up on her blog.

5/5/15: Suzanne Johnson's blog: another fun author interview including what I'm currently reading and some of my favorite books.

5/6/15: Tricia Drameh's Authors to Watch blog: come meet hero Seth and comment on your perfect dessert

5/7/15:  Sally Kilpatrick's Super Writer Mom blog: a guest post on why we love beta heroes (like Seth!), comment on your favorite album for a chance to win a $10 iTunes gift card. Yes, $10!

5/8/15: Samantha March's Chick Lit Plus blog: a review! Come comment on your perfect season.

5/9/15: Suzy Turner's Fiction Dreams blog: a guest post on how writing A Perfect Man was my way of sneaking back into graduate school

5/10/15: Ms. Nose in a Book blog:  a review and discussion of perfect pets. Giveaway extended through 5/11.

5/11/15: Jencey Gortney's Writer's Corner: why I love writing in the South.

Each day's post has a giveaway, so be sure to check out and comment on today's!

I got exciting news this weekend via Google - A Perfect Man has been deemed one of 10 Must-Read Romance Novels for May 2015 by about.com. Woo hoo!

There's also a  Rafflecopter giveaway for some nifty grand prizes. If you'd like to know what they are, click here.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Stay tuned to learn more about my characters, the book, and me as well as see reviews. Thanks for joining in!

Sunday, April 26, 2015

A Perfect Man: First Chapter and Purchase Links


I'm so excited that A Perfect Man is out! For those who are curious as to what it's about, here's the blurb:

How far will she go to find her perfect man? How far will he go to be one?

When Karen Hardeman sets foot on the Foothills University campus, it’s her first step toward proving her abusive ex wrong. Just her luck, her first writing assignment in Intro to Romance sends her in search of the perfect hero—a quest she’s never managed to conquer.

Worse, her professor forces her to collaborate with the most overconfident, annoying guy in the class.

Seth Sayers is also at Foothills to find new direction—preferably one that takes him far away from the family drama that’s followed him since his father’s death. He didn’t mean to humiliate Karen by rewriting her manuscript from the hero’s point of view. He blames the painkillers the ER doctor gave him after stitching up a wine-induced cut on his hand.

As their collaboration progresses, Karen begins to trust Seth with her manuscript, then maybe a little piece of her heart. But Seth’s half-brother resurrects Seth’s suspicions about his father’s death. Until he finds the truth, he can’t be the hero in anyone’s life. Even his own.


Warning: Some alcohol consumption. Okay, writer amounts of alcohol consumption. There are also some adult situations, but nothing too explicit. It is a romance-writing class, after all.

A Perfect Man was released from Samhain Publishing on May 12.

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Here's a sneak peek at the first couple of scenes:

Chapter One:

Karen Hardeman walked onto the campus of Foothills University, into her new life, and straight into her ex-boyfriend.

She was mentally counting the total number of steps from the Graduate Parking Lot entrance to the Student Center Annex, site of her first class, which had been intimidatingly dubbed a “seminar”, when she saw him. This was supposed to be a new beginning, a fresh start, a personal renaissance. But there he was, unmistakable with his hipster goatee, round tortoiseshell glasses, and hair just a little too long.

The thought, he probably needs to get new jacket photos done, spiked her brain simultaneously with a shot of triple-espresso-strength adrenaline straight from her gut to her heart. Both sent her scrambling behind a magnolia tree as he approached on the sidewalk. Luckily he was looking at his phone, so maybe he hadn’t seen her. Although his average-at-best appearance hadn’t changed much, he exuded his customary attitude of I’m a bestselling author, and I will do what I want.

Karen wondered if he’d forgiven her for telling him she had a surprise for him for his thirty-fifth birthday and moving out while he was away for the afternoon at a writing retreat. Probably not. He’d certainly been surprised, though.

“Hello, Karen.”

She looked up from her phone, which she’d been studying with all the logic of a cat who doesn’t think you can see it if it can’t see you. “Oh hi, Marius.” She tried to pull her lips into the ice-queen smile she’d practiced for just such an occasion, but all she could manage was convenience-store-slushie duchess.

“Lovely day here in the mountains, isn’t it?” He grinned like he’d just caught her sneaking buttercream icing out of the fridge—that had only happened a few times, and she’d justified it as a better coping mechanism than alcohol—and she leaned against the tree to preempt her spirit’s fetal-position reaction to his inevitable insult.

“Well,” he continued with that huge gotcha grin, “I was just visiting my good friend and former editor Sue Ellen Forrester-Schmidt. Maybe you’ve heard of her? She started the new MFA program in genre literature here. I just wanted to wish her luck on her first day.”

Karen reacquainted her upper molars with her lower ones so her mouth wouldn’t fall open. Of all the rotten, stinking luck!

“Yes,” he continued with a smug smirk, “my agent, Artie—you remember Artie, right?—introduced me to her at a party last year, and we hit it off. I heard she came here when Southern Lyon Books got bought and laid her off, so I was just checking in to see how she’s settling in.”

“How nice of you.” Karen sagged against the tree, its smooth bark solid under her arm and its steadiness supporting her, because life had become unfair once again.

“So what are you doing here? I wondered where you went.”

He wondered where she went, like she’d just left for a walk one day and hadn’t come back, not moved out of their little apartment and their life of almost a decade together.

“I decided to go back to school.” She tried to access her inner ninja and feinted left, then tried to pass him on the right, but he blocked her. He always blocked her.

“What program?”

“It’s a master’s program.”

“In what?”

Karen straightened to her full five and a half feet, almost as tall as him—which had always driven him crazy—and said, “It’s none of your business, Marius.”

He stepped aside and held a hand out for her to pass him, which she did. He waited until she was almost ten feet away before calling after her, “Tell Sue Ellen I said hello. Oh, and Karen? Surprise!”

She clenched her fists. Of course he knew. He always did. So instead of walking into her first class full of confidence and hope, she just knew the professor would hate her.

It was hard to move forward when the past kept biting her in the ass and dragging her back.


The cool of the Student Center Annex welcomed Karen like a polite hug—come on in, honey, but let’s not get too close. She checked the schedule and found the room. Thankfully, the professor hadn’t arrived yet, so she had time to compose herself.

Eyes down, she slunk to the only empty desk in the circle of six and slid in. The seat snagged the back of her thigh, and she was sure she’d just gotten a huge splinter. The encounter with Marius had left her confidence shriveled at the bottom of her gut, like a tequila worm burned by the immersion in his intoxicating but deadly ego. The burn stayed with her, reddening her cheeks, and she barely noticed as her classmates’ glances brushed over her. Each felt weighted with judgment—too fat, too frizzy, too cowardly, imposter.

She almost ran a hand through her dark curls but remembered she should leave them alone or else they’d turn her into a frizz monster, which would make her look even lovelier on top of the sunburn she’d acquired when she moved in the previous weekend. She could almost feel the freckles blooming on her skin. Sophisticated writer, that’s me.

This morning just got better and better, and now she was going to have to sit through an hour lecture on the romance genre. Hell, she needed Romance 101—the life course, not the writing course. What did she know about romance? Would she have to bare her soul and write sex scenes for strangers? What if they laughed at her like Marius had?

“Face it, babe.” His words from earlier that year echoed in her mind. “You can try this writing thing, but you just don’t have what it takes.”

The skin at the back of Karen’s neck tightened, and she knew Doctor Forrester-Schmidt had walked in and probably checked for her first, after talking with Marius. Oh God, what did he tell her? How screwed am I?

Karen had liked Doctor Forrester-Schmidt well enough at the program interview. Now, when the professor came in, she looked at each of the students intently, but her face didn’t reveal whether Marius had mentioned Karen. Not even a blink when their eyes met. Even now, at the end of August, the former editor in chief for Southern Lyon Books wore her signature long black skirt and suit jacket but seemed unfazed by the heat.

Is the woman even human?

“Welcome, class,” she said and surveyed them with a catlike half smile. “I’m glad to see the inaugural class for the genre literature program has such a range of backgrounds and ages. Let’s go around and introduce ourselves, shall we?”

Karen’s heart gave a little squeeze when Forrester-Schmidt’s cold, gray eyes passed over her, but the professor’s javelin gaze speared the guy next to Karen. She hadn’t paid much attention to him, aside from noting he doodled spaceships in the margins of his yellow pad. His shaggy, light-brown hair hung in his hazel eyes and made hers itch by looking at them, but he had sweet dimples and nice-looking lips. The vintage men’s shirt he wore showed off his biceps and the breadth of his chest nicely, and Karen wished she’d at least said hi when she sat.

“Why don’t you get us started, Seth?” the professor asked.

The young man next to Karen cleared his throat. “I’m a programmer who wants to put his computer knowledge to good use by writing and editing science fiction.”

“And does he always speak in the third person?”

“Um, no,” he mumbled, “I was just trying to be grammatically correct.”

“And although you succeeded grammatically, you failed stylistically. Karen, tell us about you, but please don’t use the royal I.”

Karen felt for the poor guy. Marius had liked catching her out like that, especially when she tried hard to impress someone. With an apologetic glance his way, she said, “Hi, I’m Karen. I most recently lived in Atlanta, but I grew up in Birmingham and went to school in Arkansas. I was a front-office manager for a medical practice, but I couldn’t take the politics and left to pursue my first love of writing. I was actually just there to support my writing habit.”

She waited for the chuckle, which didn’t come. Now Seth sent her a sympathetic glance.

She shifted in her seat and straightened. She didn’t need another guy’s pity, not today. “And, um, I’m not sure where I want to specialize. I’m just open to learning new things right now.”

“Thank you.” The professor looked around the room. “If you’re already tied to a specific genre, then you will be miserable during parts of this program because we expose you to all of them. Whether you go on to be a published author or have other plans for joining the publishing industry, the best thing we can do for you is give you an idea of what genre fiction has to offer. Who knows?” She smiled at Karen. “You might find something you didn’t realize you love right under your nose. You never know until you try.”

The knot of tension loosened in her chest, but then the panic returned when she wondered if Forrester-Schmidt meant she, the professor, had feelings for Marius.

Oh God, oh God.

Karen’s mind bounced the possibilities around, and she missed the other four class members’ introductions, aside from snippets.

“Now,” Doctor Forrester-Schmidt said and handed out the syllabus, “this is the first part of the program: Romance. This genre sells thousands of new titles per year, making it the most popular fiction category. We’ll also cover related genres like chick lit and women’s fiction, which are fair game for your semester projects. And while these areas seem to be the stronghold of women, men’s voices are also needed.” She raised an eyebrow at one of the other students, a redheaded guy who had rolled his eyes. “Even those who were raised in semirural Georgia and like to wear all black on their first day in school.”

The guy blushed like a redhead.

“While we will be reading plenty of excerpts, as well as writing a novella, your first assignment is to go to the bookstore and pick out what you think is a ‘typical’ romance novel.”

Karen flipped through the syllabus as the professor discussed what the “typical” romance novel might be. She would only consider buying one author for this assignment—Delilah Phillips. She wrote lighthearted contemporary and had been Karen’s savior during her darkest times with Marius.

“Ms. Hardeman?”

She looked up.

“If you will please rejoin us on this plane of existence. You may make your travels during speculative fiction, but writing romance, like love itself, requires your full presence and attention.”

This time the heat in Karen’s face wasn’t sunburn. “Sorry.”

Doctor Forrester-Schmidt towered over Karen’s desk and looked at the page she’d been reading. “Ah yes, our semester project. As an added bonus, I’ve booked one of my former authors to come into the class to speak toward the end of the semester. The student who has written the best project will go to dinner with this author and myself.” She looked around. “It’s someone who writes in the genre, but who has a more, shall we say, modern slant on it. The student with the best project, which will be judged by me and this author, will be able to spend an entire evening with…” she paused, “…Delilah Phillips.”

If it were possible to be simultaneously rooted to the ground and buoyant with joy, that was how Karen felt. She almost blurted out Delilah was her favorite author, but she didn’t want to seem an eager beaver trying to tip the odds in her favor.

She did a better job of looking like she paid attention during the second half of class, but her mind wandered to Ms. Phillips’s characters. She couldn’t wait to ask questions—like how did she come up with her heroines? Were they based on her life? What about the heroes? How did she come up with such flawed but utterly loveable men?

And did she have any advice on how Karen could find one for herself?

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