Another lovely photo splice of Ton Heukels and Marthe Wiggers by Alvaro Beaumud Cortes for Stylist France…
As Bran and Ava’s story continues, the flames are burning several degrees hotter than in Siren’s Wave. Strangely, this seems to be happening beyond my control, and It’s got me thinking about the frequency and detail of sex scenes in contemporary romance novels and at what point it becomes a bore-fest or crosses over into the realms of erotica? Not that there’s anything wrong with erotica. If you’re into it—enjoy—I say.
Personally, rather than endure a blow-by-blow account, I like my imagination to get a good workout. Too many ginormous, clever appendages thrusting at quivering, slippery slopes start me yawning and skipping pages, hunting for the next bit of plot action. The real emotion. Or the heavy feels, as we like to say in romance land.
So, in book 2, (due to the following I’m thinking about publishing it under a completely different pen name!) I have a fairly hot scene in chapter 3. Good God, I hear you cry. In book 1, after our reluctant lovers finally got it on the main event pretty much happened off screen. Well, for their first session at least. How cruel of me!
Right now, this extra intensity between the sheets feels a vital energy that needs to burn a little wild, like their current relationship. And, yet, I don’t want to be overly descriptive and curb readers’ imaginations with surplus stage directions. Have I got the balance right? I’m not sure yet. At some point, Bran and Ava will likely tell me.
How much sex is good for you in a love story? If you dare, comment below, or email me at firstname.lastname@example.org and tell me if you like the heat in your books turned up, down, or set to a steady simmer?
The tale of a damaged, up-and-coming rock star who doesn’t know what love is. Even when it smacks him in the face. Twice. When he falls hard for a girl who’s determined to resist him, what else can he do but break apart?
On sale from the 18th through to the 24th of March!
Ton Heukels, Marthe Wiggers - splice of a gorgeous shot by Alvaro Beaumud Cortes for Stylist Magazine.
“Five Stars. A fabulous novel, one with drama and details, edge and emotion, love and lust but with a story that unfolds so very different from so many Rock band romances.” – Jeannie Zelos Book Reviews
“Great debut … Siren’s Wave was a great 5 star read.” – M Austin, Alpha Book Club
“Spicy, salty and sweet! … I loved the dream imagery and metaphors … I would recommend this book even if you don’t typically do romances – it’s a gem!” – Jillian
“Siren’s Wave turned out to be the book I’ve been waiting for – the true well-written smart romance.” – Syrene
“The style of writing is unique and the way the two characters interact is genuinely funny and such a tease. The pace of the story is very well designed to keep you interested right up until the end.” – S.J. Main
If you’d like to find out how a damaged hot rocker handles cluelessly falling in love for the first time in his life, enter the Goodreads giveaway below up until the 21st of February. Hint – he doesn’t cope too well. Poor Bran!
Bran’s eyes flicked up from the plate of fast disappearing fish and chips in a flash of guilt. Relieved, he watched Ava flap her hands at the seagull who was taking off with one of her chips. She sure liked her salt. She practically crumbed her food in the stuff. Laughing along with the others as she wiped her hands in irritation, he wondered what he had to feel guilty about. Oh yeah, probably the sleazy way he’d scoped her out at the beach, that might be it.
They sat at bench seats pulled up to a wooden table on the deck of the pub. It was some view. The breakers cruised into the sand in a rhythm he could set lyrics to. Sparkling-green hills. Darkening shadows. Girls with luscious asses. What? Bran shook his head to clear the unwelcome image of Ava in her bathers, swallowed a too greedy mouthful of food and chased it down with a gulp of beer.
Bran and the Silva boys at the Rookery Nook – Wye River Hotel, Siren’s Wave Novel.
“Hey, that seagull likes you, Ava,” said Ben, eye-fucking her like a great jerk. “He’s coming back for more.”
“Yes, I’m sure he does. I think you’ll find, Benjamin, that I’m a great favourite with creatures of the web-footed variety.”
Bran felt himself smiling a stupid grin at her and for some reason looked down to inspect his own feet.
Before he could wrest a clever comment from his slow firing brain, which had been lulled witless by his senseless contemplation of Ava over dinner, he was annoyed to hear Ben say, “Oh, is that why I like you so much? I knew we were meant for each other.”
Dan shot a funny expression at Bran, a one eyebrow raised, what-are-ya-gonna-do-about-that kind of face. Bran did somehow feel put out. The fuck if he knew why though.