Review Tuesday: Code of Conduct by Cheyenne Blue #lesfic #romance #tennis

Code of Conduct by Cheyenne Blue

Ylva Publishing, 2018

Defending US Open champion Genevieve “Vivi” Jones lives for tennis. Since she started playing as a teen, nearly twenty years ago, the game has been both her profession and her passion. Of course Vivi loves her parents and kid brother Jack, but she spends most of her time on the road, playing international matches, far from the outback saloon and hotel her family calls home. Her best friend is also her doubles partner. There’s little room in her hectic, disciplined life for anything outside the sport.

Gabriela Mendaro is equally devoted to her career as a tournament official. The constant travel lets her explore new places and escape from her cold, unsupportive family in Spain. Known for her unshakable composure and her diligent attention, Gabriela has worked her way up through the hierarchy of the International Tennis Foundation, to the level of silver badge umpire. She dreams of achieving the ultimate recognition of a gold badge.

When Vivi loses her shot at the US Open because Gabriela has called her out of bounds, she’s both disappointed and angry. Then an injury threatens to end her tennis career entirely. No matter how much pain she endures—despite the danger of permanent physical damage—how can she consider retirement? Tennis defines her; without it, she’s nothing.

In the midst of this emotional turmoil, a twist of fate brings Vivi and Gabriela together. Despite her resentment over the tournament loss, Vivi finds herself strongly attracted to Gabriela, and vice versa. Yielding to desire, they share one passionate night, then realize the risk they’re taking. The ITF code of conduct strictly prohibits any relationship between a player and an official which might be seen as tainting the official’s objectivity.

Of course, if Vivi were to retire, the two women would be free to explore whether the feelings that draw them together might be more than just lust. But Vivi’s reluctant to give up the game completely. Her doctor has agreed that she might be able to continue playing less physically demanding doubles matches. If she does, though, she may lose the chance to get closer to the lovely Spanish umpire.

If you asked me about my top ten interests—or even my top twenty five—sports wouldn’t make the list. The fact that this “sports romance” was written by one of my favorite authors was barely enough to overcome my reluctance to read it. I know very little about tennis. I don’t understand how it’s scored, for example. I worried that I’d be bored, or worse.

Nevertheless, I loved Code of Conduct. Though I couldn’t follow the details of Vivi’s matches, her emotions came through strong and clear. I felt her dedication to her game, the way it defines who she is, the near-terror she experiences in contemplating a life off of the court. Cheyenne Blue does an amazing job portraying the constrained and obsessed life of a serious athlete. She puts the reader inside Vivi’s head during the most intense moments of play, helping us to understand how will and focus can overcome physical limitations.

The author also provides a scathing depiction the culture surrounding professional tennis: the sometimes malicious interactions between the players, the alternating persistence and fickleness of the media, the way everyone wants a piece of the star players. It’s a bit sordid and depressing, though I suspect that the reality is even worse.

Meanwhile, I found the romance between Vivi and Gabriela believable and compelling. The primary conflict never feels contrived or overblown, as it does in some romance. The protagonists’ dedication to their respective careers is a serious obstacle to their happiness together, but their hesitation to commit is completely reasonable. After all, they do not know each other well. What if their love does not work out, after they’ve made irrevocable decisions? Vivi, in particular, has to face her own uncertain future in a way that’s painful to watch.

Finally, I enjoyed the sensual interludes in Code of Conduct. I first became aware of Cheyenne Blue as an author of richly described, emotionally intense erotica. The lesbian romance she has published over the past few years has plenty of erotic tension, but relatively little explicit sex. This novel doesn’t shy away from describing Vivi’s and Gabriela’s love making. I think this strengthens the book, making the women’s difficult choices much more plausible.

Overall, I thought Code of Conduct was Ms. Blue’s best novel since she started focusing on lesbian romance—a real winner. To risk an inappropriate metaphor, with this book Cheyenne Blue has hit a home run.

Seven Things to Expect from a Lisabet Sarai Story - #SaturdaySeven #consistency

Anyone who has checked out my website or who follows my blog knows that I don’t really restrict myself to a single genre. I’ve written contemporary romance, historical romance, sci fi, thrillers, paranormal, urban fantasy, lesbian and gay fiction, even a bit of humor. Unlike many authors, I can’t say “I write...” and finish the sentence with a nice, neat summary of my work.

I make no excuses for my lack of consistency! I like variety in my reading, and that’s true in my writing as well. Still, there are some constants, some characteristics you can pretty much depend on when you pick up a book I’ve written, whatever the genre.

1. A vivid, usually specific setting

As I mentioned last week, I’ve done a lot of traveling and lived in quite a few places. I tend to use my experiences as background or inspiration for my stories. For me, the setting is almost another character.

This is particularly true of the Asian Adventure series I’ve been publishing over the last six months. Each of these books is set in a different Asian locale. In fact, the latest Asian Adventure tale, Dragon Boat Blues, just came out yesterday. It takes place in Ha Long Bay, northern Vietnam. I did a dragon boat cruise myself a number of years ago. I’ve tried to bring my memories to life in this story.

2. Characters who break stereotypes

I don’t usually write alpha male heroes or fragile, innocent heroines. I try to make each character as distinctive as I can. I love nerdy, intelligent guys and brilliant, assertive women. My characters also cover a wide range of ages, from late teens (e.g. NecessaryMadness) to senior citizens (Gray Christmas). Oh, and they’re not all beautiful or physically perfect, either. For instance, the heroine of Dragon Boat Blues is disabled.

3. More or less explicit sex

I don’t close the bedroom door on my characters. I’m fascinated by sexuality and not ashamed of that fact. Some of what I write would be considered erotica. My romance tends to be pretty steamy. The tone depends on the story and the characters. I can write raw and I can write tender. However, very few of my books could be rated G.

4. A plot with some real conflict

Without conflict, there’s no story. All my characters face obstacles, internal, external or both. They make decisions and face the consequences, hopefully growing and changing in the process. In some books (for instance, The Gazillioniare and the Virgin) the conflict arises from the characters’ differing values and priorities. In others (Quarantine, Exposure, BangkokNoir) I have hostile forces threatening the characters’ happiness. Either way, I don’t make it too easy for my characters.

5. Surprises

I really hate predictable books. So I try to work at least some suspense or surprise into everything I write. I want my readers to turn the pages, wondering what’s going to happen next. Actually, surprise goes hand in hand with realistic conflicts. In the real world, you can’t necessarily know how some difficult situation will turn out. Writing romance, which requires a happy ending, it’s a challenge to keep the reader guessing, but I do my best.

6. Interest in and respect for diversity

Although I’m a white, middle class woman, my characters often are not. I have written black, Asian, Caribbean, Latin American and European characters. A number of my stories are told from a male point of view. Quite a few of my tales would be categorized as multicultural and interracial.

I also value diversity in sexual orientation. I want to explore the richness of human experience in my stories.

7. Decent editing and correct grammar

If a reader pays to buy one of my books, she deserves a quality product. I am now self-publishing most of my work. I try very hard to make sure readers won’t be annoyed by the sort of typos, messed up formatting, or grammar gaffes that I find in many self-published books.

* * *

I hope you sample some of the other Saturday Seven posts today. You can find a full list at the Long and Short Reviews blog.

Charity Sunday: Doctors Without Borders - #CharitySunday #conflict #emergencyresponse

We’ve reached the second Sunday of January already, which means it’s Charity Sunday once again. 

Today I’m supporting one of the organizations closest to my heart, Doctors Without Borders, also known as Médecins sans Frontières. MSF is a network of volunteer physicians and other health professionals who provide medical and humanitarian assistance around the world, in some of the most horrific environments and desperate situations on earth. MSF volunteers bravely help people victimized by disasters and conflicts, regardless of their nationality, ethnicity or political affiliation. The organization is officially neutral (a stance that has seen them expelled from some countries where they are sorely needed). In 1999 MSF was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize – deeply deserved, in my opinion.

When a magnitude 7.0 earthquake devastated Haiti almost exactly seven years ago, MSF was there, treating the wounded and helping to prevent disease in the shanty towns of displaced Haitians. When super typhoon Haiyan slammed into the Visayas islands of the Philippines in 2013, killing more than 6000 people and affecting 11 million, MSF was on the ground in days, building field hospitals, providing clean water, serving the hordes left homeless. Today MSF is at work in the battlefields of Syria and the Central African Republic, dodging bullets as they try to meet the health and humanitarian needs of civilians fleeing from violence. In the refugee camps of Yemen and in Bangladesh, right now, MSF is battling separate epidemics of diptheria, a disease of the past that is a new threat due to shattered health systems and over-crowded living conditions.

I urge you to visit the MSF site, watch some of their videos, and consider making your own contribution. In any case, I will contribute one dollar for each comment I receive on this post.

If you want to do more, you might also consider purchasing a copy of Coming Together: In Vein, an anthology of vampire erotica and erotic romance that I edited. All sales from this book support MSF. 

 

Meanwhile, as usual, I have an excerpt to amuse you this Sunday. This bit comes from my MMF erotic romance Monsoon Fever. The book is set just after the first World War, at a tea plantation in Assam, India owned by a British couple. In this snippet, Priscilla and Jon Archer and their lawyer (soon to be lover) Anil Kumar help the people of the nearby village to deal with a landslide triggered by violent rains – exactly the sort of situation where MSF might deploy its resources. This excerpt has special poignancy given the recent, deadly mudslides in California.

Priscilla saw it first. The note was scrawled on a scrap torn from a ledger, and fastened to the dining room door frame with a nail.

“Landslide at the village. Gone to help.” The writing was barely legible, but she recognised Jon’s hand.

A landslide! Priscilla recalled the heaps of mud and rock piled by the road on the way to Gauhati. 

“We must go to them,” Anil insisted, reading over her shoulder. “A landslide can bury a whole town, or sweep it away.” He searched her face. “Do you have shovels or picks? And buckets, buckets would be useful.”

“In the utility shed, behind the house.” 

Anil was already on his way out the door.

Jon had taken most of the tools, but they found a short spade and a mattock. They grabbed them and scrambled up the slippery path toward the village, rain still washing over them in dense squalls. As they approached the site of the village, home to the plantation workers and their families, shouts filled the air. Lanterns flickered in the wet, black night.

Priscilla had visited the village several times, bringing sweets for the children and English soap for their mothers. She hardly recognised the scene of devastation before her now. There was no sign of the wooden huts that sheltered the workers. She saw only a vast sea of mud, with splintered planks and beams jutting out at odd angles. Half naked men dug frantically in the muck, looking like an army of demons in the shifting lantern-light. Children hung onto their mothers, wailing or watching the rescue efforts silent and wide-eyed. An elderly woman, tattered sari clinging to her wizened body, crouched under a tree half-crushed by a huge boulder.

Priscilla saw Jon near the far perimeter, wielding a shovel and yelling orders to the other men. She stumbled across the ex-village, the treacherous mud sucking at her feet, and threw herself into his arms.

“Darling! I was so worried.” she cried. “Are you all right?”

Jonathan held her so tight she could scarcely breathe. His chest was bare and streaked with dirt. His blond hair was black with rain and soil. “Priscilla! Thank God! I’m so glad to see you!”

“How bad is it?”

“Bad—nearly all the houses were destroyed—but it could have been much worse. Most of the villagers were up at the shrine when the hillside gave way. We think that there are only a few people buried. We’re trying to find them before it’s too late.”

“Let me help. I can dig, too.” She held up her spade. 

Jonathan looked at her for a moment, appraising her strength, then nodded. “Take the north east quadrant. Be careful—you don’t want to slice into someone that you’re trying to rescue.”

“What about me? Where do you want me?” Anil had come up behind them during their embrace.

“Anil! Wonderful! Can you organise the men working in the south west? I’m not sure that they understand everything that I’ve been telling them.”

“Certainly, I’ll do what I can.” Anil strode off toward the group that Jon had indicated.

Priscilla waded over to the area Jon had assigned to her. The Indian men eyed her curiously as she dug her spade into the saturated dirt. The mud resisted, sticky and heavy as cement, but she refused to be discouraged. She raised one spade-full, then another, scanning her expanding excavation each time for any sign of a body.

Her shovel hit some buried wood. The impact sent a jarring shock back through her shoulders. She thought that the thump sounded hollow. Priscilla dug in again, listening more carefully. Definitely hollow.

All at once, she heard a muffled cry, a human voice. “Jon! Over here, I think there’s a partly collapsed house here, and someone’s inside. Alive!”

The men swarmed over to where she was digging. “Careful now,” Jon cautioned. Don’t disturb the timbers or the whole place might collapse.” He showed them how to lift off the soil in layers, standing away from the hole so that their weight would not affect the precariously balanced ruins underneath. It took half an hour, but finally they pulled an old man out of the ground, crushed and bleeding but conscious.

A shout rang out from the other side of the mud field. Anil’s group had located another body. Priscilla went over to lend her spade to the efforts. Digging side by side with her husband and the Indian lawyer, she worked steadily to strip away nearly two feet of dirt. Underneath, they found the mangled corpse of a woman cradling an infant. The woman was beyond help. The baby, though, let out a lusty wail as the fresh air filled its lungs.

Priscilla bent down and took the naked child in her arms. It was covered with scratches and abrasions, but miraculously unharmed otherwise. A boy, perhaps six months old. He looked up at her with chocolate coloured eyes and cooed, waving his chubby limbs.

Tears streamed down Priscilla’s cheeks, mingling with the raindrops.

~ ~ ~

Please leave a comment. Every one means a dollar for Doctors Without Borders. In fact, to encourage you further, I will give away an ebook copy of Monsoon Fever to one randomly selected individual who comments on this post.

A Real Character

By Jana Richards (Guest Blogger)

In a recent interview promoting his new movie, a romantic comedy called “The F Word” (*See below), Daniel Radcliffe of Harry Potter fame was asked if he thought the rom-com genre was dead or dying. He responded with this:

“Like everything now, there’s a lot of crap out there…And it’s always the same problem: People forget about characters. People forget that whatever you do or say in a script doesn’t matter if people don’t care about the character involved…without creating characters that people care about, they’re not going to be interested and it doesn’t count for anything.”

I couldn’t agree more, Daniel.

Coming up with characters readers will care about is one of the most fun, and challenging, things about writing. I want to create characters who engage with readers, who leap off the page make readers love them.

So how do I do that?

I’ve learned a lot about character building by reading other author’s books. I loved Lisa Kleypas’ strong heroines in her Travis family series. Ella Varner in Smooth Talking Stranger drops everything to look after her sister’s new born son, even though she knows nothing about babies, and is sure she doesn’t want children of her own. At first she’s just trying to find her nephew’s father and make him do the right thing, but she gradually falls in love with the two men who have wormed their way into her life, her nephew Luke and Jack Travis. I loved seeing Ella overcome a hellish childhood and grow into the woman she never thought she could be. I cheered for her all the way.

Another author whose characters I love is Mary Balogh. In Slightly Dangerous, everyone believes Wulfric Bedwyn, the Duke of Bewcastle is haughty and cold-hearted, a man with ice in his veins and around his heart. But in the skillful hands of Ms. Balogh, we discover a man who uses disdain to keep people at arm’s length to protect himself from being hurt. After being rejected as a young man by the woman he thought he was in love with, Wulfric believes love isn’t for him. But when Christine Derrick crashes into his life, she challenges everything he previously believed a well-brought up lady should be. Christine was not what he thought he wanted in a duchess but everything he needed. I loved seeing Wulfric loosen up and fall in love, and despite his extreme reserve, I loved him because I understood where that reserve came from.

Before I write a paragraph of a new book, I do a lot of character analysis. I fill out character sketches to try to figure out who these people are. Along with the physical descriptions, I devise a backstory for each character. I ask questions about their parents and siblings, about the kind of relationships they’ve had with the opposite sex, and about their greatest fears, and greatest desires. From these questions, characters begin to emerge. But I always find that my characters don’t take full shape until I start actually writing their story.

Novels are built around struggle between characters. To get that conflict humming from the very beginning of the book, I like to create characters with a built-in clash between them. For instance, in my contemporary romance A Long Way From Eden, I matched Zane Martin, a man who grew up not knowing who his father was, with Meg Evans, a woman who was forced into an abusive marriage by an unplanned teenage pregnancy. So when his daughter becomes pregnant with Meg’s son’s baby, Zane insists the two young people marry. But Meg will have none of it. She doesn’t want either of their children forced into a unwanted, loveless marriage. They are in opposition from the opening of the book, but as they learn where the other is coming from, understanding gradually turns to love. My hope is that Meg and Zane are characters that readers can really care about and root for.

Characters make a novel sing. Without strong and interesting characters, a novel will simply fall flat on its face. Like Daniel Radcliffe said, it all counts for nothing if readers don’t care what happens to its characters. So I’ll keep working hard to make my characters as interesting, funny, and complex as I can make them.

What makes a character likable for you? Who are your favorite literary characters?

*Incidentally, this movie is titled “What If” in the United States. Apparently the Motion Picture Association of America didn’t like the original title because of the possible double meaning (in this movie the F stands for friend). However, since the film was titled “The F Word” when it premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2013, that title was retained for Canadian audiences. And we’re okay with that!

A Long Way from Eden by Jana Richards

Zane Martin's teenage daughter is pregnant. Meg Evan's son is the baby's father. Because Zane grew up not knowing who his father was, he'll be damned if he'll let his grandchild live with that shame. Meg was forced into an abusive marriage because of an unplanned pregnancy, so she knows that love is the only good reason to marry. Neither Meg nor Zane expects or welcomes the attraction that sparks between them. As they await the impending birth of their grandchild, old wounds open and long hidden family secrets come to light. The young couple build a newer, stronger relationship, while Meg and Zane reach for a love passionate enough to overcome the past--if they're strong enough to trust it...and each other.

Excerpt

“I’m sorry.”

It was the last thing she'd expected him to say. Her head jerked up in surprise. 

"What for?"

He took a couple of steps toward her, stopping just short of touching her. "For pushing myself on you and scaring you. I behaved badly and I'm sorry."

He meant it. Meg was touched that he would take responsibility for what she'd done, but she couldn't let him think it was his fault. "No, Zane. You didn't do anything wrong. It was my fault and I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have gone out to dinner with you."

"Meg--"

She put up her hand to stop him when he would have touched her. "You didn't push yourself on me. I wanted you to kiss me. But then when things got too intense, I couldn't handle it." She looked into his eyes, afraid she'd see pity or contempt, and was surprised when all she saw was concern.

"Don't blame yourself."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry Zane. I don't know if I could ever manage another relationship." She swallowed hard, determined to tell him the truth. "It's not fair to let you go on thinking there could ever be anything between us."

His expression registered a flash of sadness before he carefully wiped all traces of emotion from his face. Meg hated that she caused him pain.

"I see," he said. "Is that what you really want, for me to walk away and leave you alone?"

He watched her intently, like he did the night he took her to dinner. She couldn't look away from his gaze. The look in his eyes challenged her to tell the truth. She fought against it, forcing herself to look away.

"Yes," she whispered.

"I don't believe you. If you can look me in the eye right now and tell me you really want me to leave, I won't bother you again." He briefly touched her face with the tip of his finger. "You'll never have to talk to me, or play piano for me or dance with me ever again. Is that what you really want?"

She tried to say it was, tried to make the words come out, but they refused. "No, that's not what I really want," she whispered.

Zane stepped closer, placing one hand on her shoulder while the other stroked her hair. "What do you really want, Meg?" he whispered, his voice a caress.

"I'm afraid to want anything," she said truthfully, her gaze locked with his. Her body trembled under his touch. "At least that way I can't be hurt."

"Who hurt you, Meg?"

She shook her head, and to her embarrassment felt tears pooling in her eyes. Why did he have to make her feel so much?

"Please, don't push me on this."

Something changed in his face, and he dropped his hands. He averted his gaze for a moment and when he turned back to her, she saw the determination there.

"I don't scare easily, Meg. When you're ready to tell me your secrets, I'll be here."

He turned and went back into the restaurant, leaving her staring at the closed door, her hands shaking. A part of her wanted to trust him, to believe that he would understand what she'd done. She was tired of the lies and secrets. But the part of her that had spent the last seventeen years in hiding recoiled at the idea of trusting another man, even Zane.

About Jana

When Jana Richards read her first romance novel, she immediately knew two things: she had to commit the stories running through her head to paper, and they had to end with a happily ever after. She also knew she’d found what she was meant to do. Since then she’s never met a romance genre she didn’t like. She writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and historical romance set in World War Two, in lengths ranging from short story to full length novel. Just for fun, she throws in generous helpings of humor, and the occasional dash of the paranormal. Her paranormal romantic suspense “Seeing Things” was a 2008 EPPIE finalist.

In her life away from writing, Jana is an accountant/admin assistant, a mother to two grown daughters, and a wife to her husband Warren. She enjoys golf, yoga, movies, concerts, travel and reading, not necessarily in that order. She and her husband live in Winnipeg, Canada with their Pug/Terrier cross Lou and several unnamed goldfish. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website at www.janarichards.com

Blog: http://janarichards.blogspot.com

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Thank you so much for having me on your blog today, Lisabet!