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