Samantha Lytton's Rules for Living

By Lucy Woodhull (Guest Blogger)

Hi there, I’m romantic comedy author Lucy Woodhull, and I thank Lisabet once again for having me on the blog. I visited a while ago to chat about the first book in my Samantha Lytton rom-com series, THE DIMPLE OF DOOM. And much like a book sequel, I’m back, baby, to talk about, well, the sequel! It’s called THE DIMPLE STRIKES BACK, and it’s better than Han Solo and Princess Leia making out.

Ok, it’s not. Nothing is that good. Sigh.

Here’s a blurb for the series:

The Samantha Lytton Series: Obviously, the solution to a failed acting career and depressing dating desert is to take up with a dimpled art thief, get chased by thugs, lie to the police and almost die.

That's not what Samantha Lytton thought would happen when she kissed the guy who said he was an accountant at the office Christmas party. But in her defense -- it was an amazing freaking kiss. The kind of lip-lock that frustrates you in the wee hours.

Turns out, thinking with your nether regions can lead to poor decisions. Or perhaps...fantastic ones. Samantha and her burglar travel from Los Angeles to Vegas to Paris to London on adventures that bring Samantha's wildest dreams of stardom to fruition. After spending years falling on her face, she learns to fight for herself and her heart's desire. You can't choose who to love, but you can try to keep his cute butt out of jail and in your bed.

No matter where in the world you go, or how many hot movie stars you kiss (um, professionally), you never forget your first criminal. Hopefully, only criminal. Although bad boys with dangerous dimples are nothing but trouble, a relationship can still work as long as the goons don't get you. And if they do, well, at least an actress is good at improvisation.

My heroine Samantha often finds herself in a heap of trouble. It’s not her fault, unless you count her propensity to fall for a certain art thief. He has a really nice butt, which has led many an otherwise sane woman off the garden path and naked into the shrubbery.

Over the course of her adventures, she has learned many things about the nature of the universe, the things that money can buy, and hot oral sex. With the lofty spirit of knowledge in mind, I present to you her rules for living a successful life. Or at least an interesting one. These all come from the DIMPLE books (although I cheated and added a couple from book three, which hasn’t come out yet!)

The last one means a lot to me, and as soon as I wrote it, I knew that it would be something I’d always try to remember. Even when dark times come in life, we are each the person who comforts ourselves, who lifts our body back up again, brushes off the ol’ keister, and gets going. And most of us don’t give ourselves credit for being our own heroine! But we are, and, yup, we’re all freaking amazing. Even when we forget that we are.

Excerpt: THE DIMPLE STRIKES BACK by Lucy Woodhull

The deets: I present you with a love triangle. (In the book, it turns into the dreaded love parallelogram, which is extremely complex -- I do not recommend.) Here’s the setup: Samantha and Danny Zhang (insanely hot British movie star) are in London to film a heist caper called What Could Go Wrong? After a long night of shooting, they go out to breakfast to the Princess Margaret. Samantha’s ex, Sam (be-dimpled art thief), invites himself along. He’s in town posing as Samantha’s assistant named Zach. (Got it? There’s a quiz after.)

* * *

We three grabbed a booth in the back. Through some sort of dark wizardry, Sam arranged it so that he sat between me and Danny in the curved seat. As he bumped my hip to scoot in next to me, he smiled, grim satisfaction in his tightly-set mouth. I remembered I’d told him that me and Danny were doing the hump-de-hump. I smirked at him with a challenge of my own. He thought he would separate me from my international movie star, whom I enjoyed for good reasons and not because it irritated him?

Oh, was he wrong.

So, so wrong.

We settled in, dispensing awkward, pleasant smiles all round. A middle-aged, cheery waitress took our orders of three full English breakfasts, with mimosas to start. I wasn’t sure those things went together, but when in the Princess Margaret…

And when you’re sitting at one point of an actual, physical love triangle…

Never in history had three people reached for champagne glasses with such speed. Danny bounced the ball and launched the first volley. “So, Zack—how long have you been Samantha’s assistant? Are you enjoying London?”

Sam settled back and spread out his arms. His fingers crept toward my shoulder, but I leaned sideways to search for something pretend in my purse. “I’ve worked closely with Samantha for a little over a year now. I like to stay on top of her.” He chuckled, and I snapped my head up. “You’ve got to ride these artist-types, or else they go off, half-cocked. Know what I mean?”

Danny played with his napkin, clearly having no idea what Sam meant.

“He’s been to London before,” I added to shut Sam the hell up. “I thought today went really well. We made up for some of the scenes we got behind on last night.”

My adorable co-star winked at me adorably. “It helped that no one tried to destroy the museum tonight.”

“I did so try! I may be clumsy, but I’m not a quitter.” I’d had a bit of an ‘oops’ encounter with a Plexiglas box containing Roman coins while suspended above it by a crane. There’s a steep learning curve to high-wire flying. Could happen to anyone.

Leaning forward on the table, Danny said, “They really ought to find a way to secure your zipper. If it continues sliding downward when you run, we’ll be making soft-core porn.”

I giggled and tossed my hair. “It’s so gentlemanly of you to avert your eyes, the way you do sometimes.”

His chuckle curled around us, warm and soft, and caused Sam to utter a sound like that of a wounded moose. Sam tried to cover by draining his drink.

“Did you hear about that fifty-car pileup in Edinburgh?” Actual crickets chirped after Sam said this.

“I’m going to visit the ladies’ room,” I announced, as thoughts of peeing were preferable to giant car accidents. I scooched out of the booth and gave Danny a cheery, obvious shoulder squeeze on the way. The moose-gurgling noise haunted me all the way to the toilet.

Upon my return, I enacted my plan. I headed straight for Danny and sat on the few inches of booth on the end beside him. “Care for some company?” Quick as a horny bunny, he moved to let me in. Now the three of us jammed together in one-half of the booth, for Sam refused to move. Since we were so close, I put my arm around Danny’s shoulders and began recounting a funny thing our director had said today. Sam’s eyes glowed like molten darkness, and he inched away from us without breaking his hostile regard.

Victory!

A fresh round of mimosas arrived, thank goodness. Danny didn’t even seem to think that me being so cold to Sam was weird, for he stared at my ex as if he were leprous, or perhaps suffering from a disease of the brain. I’d never seen Sam so awkward—he could normally win a charm competition from two counties away with one dimple tied behind his back.

Sam took a deep breath, drained half of his fresh glass and said to Danny, “What’s next for you, Daniel? After What Could Go Wrong?”

Ah, an actual thing a human being might say! He was fighting dirty now.

“I’ll shoot a film adaptation of Midsummer Night’s Dream next year, but I think I might take some time off the latter half of this year. Reconnect with real life.” Danny glanced at me ever so briefly. “Remember what’s it like to see friends, relatives. Maybe even date a little.”

“That’s just crazy enough to work,” I said.

“I hope so.”

A whole mess of subtext rippled beneath those three words, and a wave of guilt washed over me. I had exactly no reason to feel guilty, but the raw, pained lines on Sam’s face and the tense cords of his neck made my innards recoil. A full minute of silence descended. Danny bit his lip and shot me a warm look, which I returned. It wasn’t his fault that Sam and I had enough history to fill a college textbook.

The food arrived, smelling wonderful and large enough to feed, well, a ploughman. Holy crap, these English could embarrass even an American breakfast—there was sausage, ham, hash browns, eggs, tomato, mushrooms, beans and something black and circular. “What is that?” I asked Danny.

“Black pudding. It’s good—try it.”

“What’s it made of?”

Sam cracked his first real smile of the day. “Don’t tell her until she tries it.”

I froze. “Now I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be.” He leaned in and locked onto my eyes. “You’ll like it. You like anything having to do with meat.” The way he imbued meaning into ‘meat’ made me straight-up blush. My entire face heated, and the fire spread south until I tingled in a way that no lady should at breakfast.

To conceal my overheated everything, I was forced to try the mystery meat. He’d practically dared me, anyhow. It tasted salty, crumbly—a richness on my tongue that lingered. “Mmmmmm,” I offered to all and sundry. This pleased both men greatly.

“It’s congealed blood,” Sam said.

I stopped a fresh bite halfway to my mouth. But then I thought…is blood any different from meat? The second bite tasted better than the first. I fancied I could detect the tang of blood. It made me feel…metal. Powerful. As if I were a queen who devoured my enemies’ hearts and washed them down with champagne. And then went home to her castle to find her two husbands awaiting her. One with a dimple, and the other with an honest smile that warmed the heart…

Perhaps I read too much into pudding.

I couldn’t help my laugh at Sam getting my goat, and he cocked one eyebrow at his win before he tucked into his own food. When I turned to Danny, I found him watching me hazily. I blushed anew.

Why couldn’t I just have both? I decided I needed to find myself a romance novel that ended with a duchess and her two stable boys living happily ever after. Perhaps I’d produce the movie based on the book…

My breakfast grew cold while I was woolgathering dirty thoughts. Not the first time that had happened.

* * *

You can learn about both books in more detail, and read excerpts here.  Drop me a comment below and share your hard-won life lessons to win a chance to win digital copies of my books!

Book One: THE DIMPLE OF DOOM -- Available in print and digital from:  Totally Bound, Amazon, AllRomance.com, B&N, Sony, Kobo / Excerpt here.

Book Two: THE DIMPLE STRIKES BACK -- Available in print and digital from: Totally Bound, Amazon, AllRomance.com, B&N, Sony, Kobo / Excerpt here.

Thank you for reading, and for Lisabet for having me!

XOXO, Lucy — Website Goodreads Twitter Blog Facebook

Lucy Woodhull has always loved le steamy romance. And laughing. And both things at the same time, although that can get awkward. Her motto is "Laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you'll short-circuit your Kindle." That's why she writes funny books, because goodness knows we all need to escape the real world once in a while. She believes in red lipstick, equality, and the interrobang. Hailing from Southern California, she daydreams with her husband and a very fat cat who doesn't like you.

Welcome to River City

By E. Ayers (Guest Blogger)

Ready for a change of pace? Want to move to a mid-sized city in the eastern United States? It's a nice place to live, work, play, and fall in love. It's also fictional.

When I first started writing I was told to anchor the story. If I chose a real place, I had to be careful where everyone went, where they ate, and that happened to them. I didn't want to be accused of portraying a place in a bad light. Every city has its good points and its bad ones. Yet, I wanted that special energy that is in every city. I also wanted to be able to fire the city manager.

Ever notice when approaching a city and the tops of the skyscrapers come into view how our skin prickles with excitement? I'm not sure why that happens but it does. I wanted that pace, that flow, and that vibe of a bustling city. There also something else about a city - a plethora of people!

Cities are melting pots. I like that diversity. A city also provides a mixture of people who come in different sizes, shapes, and colors. There are those who are newcomers and those who grew up together. There's lots to do and places to visit. Staying home on Friday night being bored is a preference because a city provides plenty of other options.

I don't think heroines need to wear a size two, have blue eyes, and blonde hair. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. When does an ordinary man become handsome and sexy? When the right woman falls in love with him. And what is ordinary? What is normal?

Very slowly, River City was born. It sprouted a university and a major hospital, a historical area, congestion, expressways, bypasses, interstates, railroads, a water supply, businesses, shopping areas, markets, parks, a museum, an orchestra, an airport, and the suburbs. It's still growing! I built a city and in it are young people building careers and trying to make their world a better place.

Most series must be read in order and it's difficult to jump into the middle of one. I didn't want that. Some of my character do show up in other books mainly because people who are active in their community tend to know the other people who are also active. Some are friends and some are acquaintances. The glue is the city.

I have only three requirements for my River City characters: they must be young, they must be actively doing something to make the place better by either financially contributing, volunteering, or their job has a direct impact on the community, and most importantly, they must be good people. They have juice, they are ones who get things done and make things happen.

I strive for realism in what I write. I allow the characters to dictate what they want. Everyone is different. I write about falling in love. Making it last usually isn't easy. When two people have careers, and most young people have careers, it's difficult to find time for another person. People shouldn't have to give up something for love. A couple should enhance each others lives and make it fuller. It's about complimenting and balancing each other. Team work. They both must respect each other and themselves.

That doesn't mean there aren't sacrifices. What are you willing to do for the person you love? There's also an issue of trust. Communication is a huge element in any relationship. Sometimes you have to agree to disagree, and sometimes it takes a little extra work to see the other side of the issue. Falling in lust is easy, but falling in love is very special.

In my writer's mind, a city becomes fertile ground with an infinite number of characters who need me as a matchmaker. I built a city, with a proud history, it isn't perfect, but I hope you'll enjoy your stay.

Thanks, Lisabet, for having me as your guest. I'm going to give away copies of my River City books to your commenters. They need to leave a comment on your blog and email me with their River City book choice to be entered into the drawing.

e.ayers[at]ayersbooks.com

Wanting

If you ask businessman Mac McGuire, he'll tell you this is his story. He fell head over heels in love with Amanda Conner, an unfettered beauty with a turbulent past. Wanting her is one thing, winning her trust is another. From the violence of River City’s housing projects, to the glamorous digs of the downtown, and out to the lake district, this is one time that his money isn't working in his favor.

A New Beginning

When Dallas Nixon's parents throw her out, she seeks a safe haven. She arrives on the doorstep of the one person she always trusted, except Patrick Makowllen isn't looking to adopt a foul-mouthed waif with blue hair and yellow contacts. He reluctantly shelters her. The last thing he wants is someone sharing his life - he's a meat and potatoes guy, and she's a vegetarian. Against his own better judgment, he opens his heart and kisses his well-ordered, mundane life goodbye.

A Challenge

Tate Zaro has a black belt in TaeKwonDo, a career, and doesn't yearn for a man in her life. So why does she take a lousy paying job with a boss she dislikes, to be with a guy who spends his Saturdays coaching soccer? Life does not always give you what you want. Sometimes you get more than you ever expected.

The next River City book should be available Spring 2012.

Here's a snippet from Wanting.

Silence filled the air again. He took a sip of his coffee and then looked at Amanda. She was wearing the same knit top she had worn on their first date and he suspected it was either the best thing she owned or the only thing she owned.

His mind raced. He wanted to talk to her about her past. The only way he'd know for certain was to ask, yet molestation wasn't something normally discussed, nor was it considered polite conversation. His brain was telling him to deal with it, as if she were a client who needed to be told unwelcome news.

''Amanda, at some point in your life something has happened to you. There's something very wrong, and I'm fairly certain I know what it is, but we can't discuss it until I know specifically, so you need to start talking.'' He knew what he said was lame, but he was trying to open the door for her to tell him rather than accusing her of being a victim.

''I have no idea what you're implying.''

''Yes, you do.''

''No, there's nothing. I'm going to bed now.'' She started to stand, but he was on his feet in a flash.

''No, Amanda, you're going to sit here and talk. Whatever has happened to you is affecting us, and I want to know what it is. So have a seat and get it out.''

She got that icy hard glare on her face, and her pale blue eyes had turned to a cold gray. ''I don't know what you are insinuating.''

''I had one class in psychology in college and to me it was a bunch of mumbo-jumbo.'' He took a breath, ''If you want to discuss stocks, options, markets, mortgages, and commodities - then you'd be on my playing field, but not psychology. I do know if you keep things inside and allow them to fester, they only get worse.'' He watched her body stiffen. ''Sometimes you have to drag up the past, take a good hard look at it, and then move on. Something happened to you, something that's now having an impact on our relationship. We need to talk about it, but we can't discuss it until you tell me what it is.''

She sat quietly and stared into her lap. The ticking of the clock on the table seemed twice as loud.

''Take my hand and tell me what happened. What has made you so scared to be near me, so fearful? You know deep down inside of you that I will never do anything to you, yet you are still frightened.''

She ignored his hand, but he could see the tears welling in her eyes. He found a box of tissues, and laid it upon her lap.

She composed herself and said, ''I can't talk about it. I don't remember.''

''How old were you?'' he asked, in a quiet voice.

''I don't know, maybe six or seven the first time.'' She wrung her hands as she spoke. Her shoulders hunched and slowly she drew herself into a ball and wrapped her arms around her legs.

''Who was it?''

She closed her eyes. Her brow furrowed, then her expression changed to a grimace. ''I don't remember. I really don't remember. I just remember all the pain.''

He shook his head.

She sobbed and blurted out bits and pieces of the story.

He remained silent and listened. Occasionally, he reached over and touched her shoulder or her knee. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and tell her that no one was ever going to harm her again. The more she rambled, the more the story's fragments came together. Her eyes were now wide open but unseeing. The realization that her mother wasn't just hooking, she was also selling her young daughter to the highest bidder, wrapped around his stomach. Half of what Amanda said didn't even make sense. It was a child's perception of a hideous crime against her.

At one point she quit talking, uncurled from her knot, put her head back, and closed her eyes again. Her face was now red and puffy from crying, and although it was not hot in the condo, her hair was damp around her face from sweating. He retrieved a washcloth from the little bathroom, wet it, and brought it to her. Sitting on the arm of the sofa, he wiped her face and watched her breathe.

He wanted to kiss her lips, but he knew he'd better not do anything she could misconstrue as taking advantage of her. Instead, he sat quietly beside her. After a few minutes, he stood and walked to the kitchen. Wringing the washcloth under cold water, he brought it back, folded it, and placed it on her forehead. He wanted to ask her if she was okay, but that would have been stupid because she wasn't, so he stayed near her until she was ready to talk again. There was no sound other than her breathing and the rhythmic tick of the clock.

He reached over and was taking the washcloth from her face when she opened her eyes, looked up at him, and said, ''No man will ever have me again, never. I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't.''

He leaned down and kissed her damp forehead. ''No, Amanda, you're not a little girl anymore. You are a grown woman. The difference is now you can control your life and your body.''

He touched her hot, rosy-red cheek with his thumb. ''You have the right to make your own decisions. Giving yourself and your body to another person is not a light decision. It should only be done if you truly love the other person and there's a commitment between you. I have fallen madly in love with you, and I think you know that. But I will never take from you what you are not willing or ready to give.''

She closed her eyes again, and took a deep breath. He went to the kitchen and brought back the freshly dampened cloth. He picked up their cups of cold coffee, and refilled them with a fresh supply then sat on the arm of the sofa and gently touched her face. ''Sit up and drink some coffee. Do you want to talk some more?''

''I feel horrible.'' She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. ''You must hate me.''

''Never. No. You were the victim of a crime.'' He tucked her wayward lock of hair behind her ear. ''You are not responsible for what happened to you. The crime that was committed against you was hidden, and your wounds healed, but it left mental scars.'' Her gaze locked with his, staring deep into the very fiber of his being. ''Drink your coffee.''

''But you have to understand that I could never allow another man near me. I can't go through that ever again.''