Jill Hughey http://www.jillhughey.com Mon, 18 Jul 2016 14:16:35 +0000 en hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=4.2.32 My Life as a Concubine on First Sight Saturday http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/02/my-life-as-concubine-on-first-sight.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/02/my-life-as-concubine-on-first-sight.html#comments Sat, 22 Feb 2014 13:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/02/my-life-as-a-concubine-on-first-sight-saturday.html Each week on First Sight Saturday, a guest author shares an excerpt of a first meeting. Today I am joined by Robin Glasser with her erotic romantic comedy called My Life as a Concubine, based on her three years in Paris. I especially like Robin’s author tagline: Guaranteed to put a twinkle in your eyes and sparkles in your pants. Oooo la la!

EXCERPT

It was a delightful fall day and the sky was blue instead of gray. I cruised along the Canal St-Martin, stopping to watch a pleasure boat make escargot-like progress through the locks. Alain Delon’s double joined me. I flashed him a smile. He offered me a cigarette. I accepted. He lit it, staring sinfully into my eyes. We watched the water rush in to fill the lock in front of the boat. When it was level, the ancient iron gates began to open. A worker tossed a line to a sailor on board and the boat passed through the lock, only to repeat the process a few kilometers up the canal. My companion asked me if I’d like to have a drink with him. I didn’t have time to dawdle. I was on my way to join a gym, to fill up some hours in my day. Besides, I was deeply involved with a Frenchman who refused to marry me.
I accepted. 
We went to a petite café near the canal and sat at a tiny table outside. He drank a small cup of the bitter coffee that the rrribbbitts are so fond of and chain-smoked Gitanes. I daintily sipped a glass of wine, occasionally plucking at stray pieces of tobacco which stuck to my lip every time I puffed on the harsh, unfiltered cigarette.
Even though the French act like they despise the US, they can’t get enough stories about America, especially tales of New York. As most of you know, the galling Gauls idolize Jerry Lewis, and Woody Allen is also highly esteemed. SDH (short, dark, and handsome) was no exception. So I regaled him with Big Apple yarns while he plied me with nicotine and booze. The beginning of our chat was strained due to the language abyss; however, a couple of vin blancs later, I was conversing like a native, albeit one with a lobotomy. SDH seemed enthralled, but I don’t think it was due to my sparkling repartee. In fact, he was becoming quite handy. I’d remove his hand from my upper arm before it could caress the nape of my neck. His hand on my knee eventually wound up on my thigh. When he excused himself to go to the toilet, I was surprised. Why didn’t he just whip it out and relieve himself on the street like most Frenchmen? I guessed he was trying to impress me, or maybe his equipment wasn’t all that impressive.
As soon as SDH left the table, I glanced at my watch. Omigod! Where did the time go? It was well past five and I’d just spent the afternoon drinking and schmoozing with a handy hunk of a man. Uh oh! Guilt started to surface. What was I doing? Spending a gorgeous afternoon with an equally gorgeous stranger while the man I loved toiled away in a subterranean office? Wait a minute! If the light-of-my-life had made me his wife instead of his concubine, wouldn’t I, too, be employed? Besides, hadn’t I just spent hours improving my French? That should make The Wolf happy as long as I omitted the part about where and with whom my schooling took place. I felt much better having justified my afternoon to myself. The moment SDH returned, I’d make some excuse and hightail it to the gym.
     The handy man rejoined me, bearing a fresh glass of wine and a new packet of Gitanes. My good intentions vanished. What could I do? I couldn’t be rude and abruptly leave. So, I enjoyed his company for another half hour on the beautiful day by the water. Then, like a good concubine, I bought a fresh baguette for my master, went home alone, and passed out.

END OF EXCERPT

Sounds like more fun than an afternoon at the gym! I’m sure many of you have questions, so leave them in the comments for Robin. If one of your questions is what happens with the handy man, use one of these links to get My Life as a Concubine to find out!
Here are some links to keep in touch with Robin Glasser:

Thanks for visiting First Sight Saturday! I hope you will come back next week to read another first meeting from a new guest author.
]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/02/my-life-as-concubine-on-first-sight.html/feed 7 Looking at Rose on First Sight Saturday http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/05/looking-at-rose-on-first-sight-saturday.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/05/looking-at-rose-on-first-sight-saturday.html#comments Sat, 11 May 2013 11:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/05/looking-at-rose-on-first-sight-saturday.html Each week on First Sight Saturday I feature an excerpt of a first meeting written by a visiting author.

Today I welcome Qwillia Rain with Looking at Rose, book one in her Poker Posse series. This is an erotic romance, but I promise the excerpt below is rated PG!

SETUP: In a story, it sometimes isn’t the first meeting between the hero and heroine that can reveal hidden depths, but encounters with those close the main characters. After Ibraham Rajonovich accepts Rose Whittman’s agreement to learn about the practices he participates in as a Dominant, his unexpected first meeting with Jake Boudreaux makes it clear that others will be paying attention to Ibraham’s treatment of Rose. It shows him that he isn’t the only man who sees how unique and wonderful Rose is, which only makes him more curious about why Rose doesn’t see her own beauty and passion.

EXCERPT

    Ibraham entered his office, a warm cup of coffee at his lips and a fresh pastry from Rose’s shop in his hand. Inside the door he stopped, surprised at the man lounging behind his desk, scuffed black biker boots propped on the polished oak and green eyes focused on him.
    It took a moment for him to put a name to the man’s face. “Boudreaux, right?”
    The man gave a nod but didn’t move. “Correct.”
    It wasn’t the black leather the man wore or the deep, rumbling voice that carried the same Southern drawl Ibraham had grown used to over the last year that made him ease the door shut and take his time approaching the desk. It was the air of menace that surrounded Boudreaux. Ibraham had sensed it in other doms over the years, the ones who skirted the edge not only in the lifestyle but in life itself. He might have a few inches on the man, but he didn’t doubt Jake Boudreaux had no qualms about fighting dirty.
    Ibraham took a bite of his danish, then washed it down with a sip of his coffee before asking, “Was there something you needed from me?”
    “Tell me what you want with Rose.”
    The tension tightening Ibraham’s muscles was instantaneous. It was clear the other man saw it, if the slight smirk on Jake’s lips was any indication. “None of your business.”
    Jake’s expression held no amusement as he swung his feet off Ibraham’s desk and rose from the chair. “Now that’s where you’d be wrong, Juice Man.” He kept his arms crossed over his chest as he stepped in front of Ibraham and looked up at him. “If you’re messin’ with Rose, it’s my business. You may not realize it, but Rose, she’s special. And there’s quite a few marines that wouldn’t take kindly to you dallyin’ with her affections.”
    “I was under the impression your interests lay in the direction of a particular strawberry blonde.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed, and his knuckles went white. “Norah has nothing to do with this. Rose deserves the best.”
    “And I’m not the best?”
    Jake shrugged and moved past him. He pulled the door open before turning back to look at Ibraham. Something in his gaze held a warning that was followed up by his parting words. “Jury’s still out. But know this, you hurt her, and I won’t be the only one ready to take your hide.”
    Ibraham watched him leave the room and exit the winery before he left his office. First Rose’s mother, and now Boudreaux. Ibraham chuckled at the attention he’d garnered because of his sexy sweets maker. On the sidewalk outside Rose’s shop, Jake paused to make a phone call. After he finished and tucked the phone inside his jacket, he stepped into Rose’s shop.
    Instinct told Ibraham, on the heels of last night, he had nothing to worry about when it came to his Rose and Boudreaux. All the same, it didn’t sit well that the man was inside her shop. There had to be some history between the two, even if they weren’t lovers. A man didn’t get protective without a reason, and Ibraham intended to find out what that reason was. He tossed the last of his pastry into the trash and finished his coffee before exiting his shop and heading for Sweet Rose Treats.

END OF EXCERPT

Looking at Rose: Poker Posse 1 and other links for Qwillia!
My Twitter handle: https://twitter.com/Qwillia

]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/05/looking-at-rose-on-first-sight-saturday.html/feed 4 Chalice Blood: Hidden on First Sight Saturday http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/04/chalice-blood-hidden-on-first-sight.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/04/chalice-blood-hidden-on-first-sight.html#comments Sat, 20 Apr 2013 11:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/04/chalice-blood-hidden-on-first-sight-saturday.html First Sight Saturday is a feature I host every week to showcase the first meeting between two characters.

Today I welcome E.R. Davis with her paranormal romance/gothic urban fantasy serial novel Chalice Blood: Hidden. (To clarify, a serial novel is a story that is told in parts. Hidden is part 1 of 5 of the novel called Chalice Blood.) To all those descriptors, I will add that the product description includes the word “steamy,” but the excerpt is completely PG. Take it away, E.R!

SETUP OF SCENE: Twelve years ago, fifteen-year-old Dessa Collier met the vampire who would change her life forever.

EXCERPT

“I have a feeling.” Dessa lowered her head and focused on putting one bare foot in front of the other. Shiny black polish tipped her toes. She and Waiva continued in silence until they reached the gnarled, walking-stick stump of a long-dead tree. The stump marked a mile to the Collier farmhouse.
“Race you!” Waiva took off in a sprint.
Dessa didn’t follow. Instead, she looked over her shoulder. The bottom dropped from her stomach, and her muscles went slack. A dense, squirming mass of shadow obscured her view of the road. Someone else’s memory rippled between her ears, filled her head, and gave the black cloud a name. Hungry.
She couldn’t make her legs move. The blob came upon her quickly, so fast she didn’t have time to scream before fingers of darkness shoved into her mouth. Midnight bands wrapped around her biceps and dragged her to the ground. Dessa lashed out, punching the air. An inhuman cry reached her ears just before the dark filled those openings. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t shriek when the first bite tore at her forearm.
Burning pricks of pain dotted her exposed skin and sapped her strength. Weightless phantoms took the shape of greedy, clawed hands. Heavy bodies crushed her chest. They savaged her, teeth tearing and ripping. Hungry.
After an eternity of pain, a man’s voice cut through the sounds of feeding.
“Get them off her,” he commanded. “Destroy the new ones here and don’t take any back.”
“Better death than a cell,” another man replied.
The instructions didn’t make sense and they weren’t for her, but Dessa tried to focus anyway. Running footsteps and quiet curses filtered through the noise of strange, hissing pops. The scent of blood clogged her air passages and made her gag. Blood. Hers. Oh, that was bad.
Awareness of her arms and legs, her burning skin, returned. Dessa started to shake. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to roll onto her side, but she couldn’t move. Paralyzed.
Large, strong hands cupped the back of her head and lifted it from the ground. The authoritative voice came again. “Can you hear me?”
Masculine scents of leather and tea tree oil penetrated the reek of blood. She wasn’t completely paralyzed. She could move her head and she did, turning her face, pressing her nose and mouth to his forearm. She breathed through the odor of blood. Gradually, sensations beyond pain and fear filtered through her brain. Waiva’s voice. Vampires.
She shuddered and opened her eyes to stare at the man above her. Broad shoulders blocked the darkening violet sky. He was layers of brown against the bruised backdrop. Coffee skin, walnut hair twisted in thick dreadlocks, amber eyes.
Long fingers pushed purple tangles of hair from her face. He tilted her head at an uncomfortable angle, pressed his fingertips beneath her jaw, and muttered a foul word.
Dessa’s eyelids drooped heavily. He wasn’t supposed to use that word around her. She was too young, and she was female. Clearly he wasn’t from the South.
“You’re here to kill me,” she whispered. However many times she’d thought the words, she’d never spoken them aloud.
“Yes. I am.” He tilted her head, golden gaze intent on her face. “Do you know why?”
“My mother knew why.” She swallowed and closed her eyes. “How are you going to do it? With your fangs?”
“No fangs, baby. Never fangs.” He slid his arms beneath her shoulders and knees and lifted her off the ground. She should have resisted his hold. The notion of good sense lurked in the back of her head, struggling to penetrate the fog that divided her rational brain from her feeling brain. Feeling rose to the top and floated like sea foam.
She felt safe. Sure, he was going to kill her, but death was going to happen eventually anyway. She didn’t have the energy to delay it by struggling. Flopping limp in his arms required no effort at all.

END OF EXCERPT

Intriguing. I don’t think this not-from-the-south stranger will be able to kill Dessa when he is supposed to. Below is the blurb for the Chalice Blood: Hidden and direct links to sites where you can buy it!

**Steamy 18+** Paranormal Romance Serial Novel | 16,000 Words | Part 1 of 5
There’s only one substance on earth that can create a new vampire–the blood of a Chalice, a rare individual with magic in her veins. Atlanta’s human-vampire Civility Laws demand that if a Chalice is found, she must be destroyed. 
Heiress to a family tradition of ward-working, house painter Dessa Collier has spent the past twelve years pretending vampires don’t exist. When a friend-enemy walks back into Dessa’s life after a decade-long absence, everything Dessa has been hiding from comes crashing down on top of her.
Don’t miss the rest of this exciting, darkly erotic paranormal tale. BITTEN (Part  2) will be available April 30 2013. To find out as soon as BITTEN releases, “Like” the author on Facebook at tinyurl.com/erdavis or sign up for her newsletter at tinyurl.com/css6292.




]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/04/chalice-blood-hidden-on-first-sight.html/feed 1 Give and Take on First Sight Saturday http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/02/give-and-take-on-first-sight-saturday.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/02/give-and-take-on-first-sight-saturday.html#comments Sat, 02 Feb 2013 13:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/02/give-and-take-on-first-sight-saturday.html Every week on First Sight Saturday, I invite one author to share an excerpt of a first meeting between two characters.

Today, I welcome Alisa Anderson with the second book in her Give and Receive series.  This erotic romance novella, called Give and Take, will be released this month.  The first book in the series, Give and Receive, is available now if you want to get primed!

Set up:
Lena is at the office with her business partner and good friend Reese when Reese finally gets to meet Ty, Lena’s best friend.
 Two of the most important people in Lena’s life, and two of the biggest epic forces of nature, finally collide.

Excerpt:
“This is beginning to get a little complicated, don’t you think? Do you really want to lose him as a friend?” Reese paused and repeated her last question. “Well. Do you?”
Lena looked at Reese and frowned. “God, Reese. You are so annoying, sometimes.”
“You know me, always encouraging and uplifting,” Reese said sweetly.
“You and your damn conscience, always interfering in the good stuff. And if you must know, I don’t plan on it happening again.”
Reese snorted. “Uh huh.”
“Yeah. Whatever.” Lena broke off a piece of scone from the desk and dipped it into Reese’s coffee. Reese looked in her coffee mug at the crumbs floating around and glared at Lena.
“So anyway,” Lena continued, ignoring Reese’s frown. “You should have seen him the next morning. He looked all pitiful and shit. I felt kinda sorry for the poor kid.”
“Pitiful, huh? You mean, kind of like he lost his best friend?”
“Well, yeah I guess…” Lena ate her piece of scone and chewed thoughtfully. “You think that was because of me?”
“You know, I like when you aim high and reach for the big fat clue right in front of you.” Reese laughed and popped a piece of scone into her mouth.
Lena grinned. “And I like it when you kiss my ass.”
Reese cackled and started to say something, but paused as she looked towards the door. Suddenly, she busied herself with something on the computer screen. Lena turned around and saw Tyler standing in the doorway.
Reese coughed delicately. “How are you, Ty?”
“I’m doing all right. It’s Reese, isn’t it?”
“The one and only.” Reese smirked at Lena and got up from her chair. She walked over to him and held out her hand. “Don’t believe anything she says about me.” She winked at him. “I’m really much worse.”
Tyler grinned and didn’t try to hide it as he assessed her from head to toe.
He liked what he saw. Especially Reese’s full, voluptuous chest, which he always had a weakness for. He cleared his throat and brought his gaze up to finally look at her face as he shook her hand firmly, not releasing it. He gave her a cocky grin.
“I’ll try to keep that in mind, sweetheart.”
But Reese was not to be outdone.
Rather than be offended at his sizing her up like a piece of meat, she yanked him a little closer to her so he could get a complete view of the treasures underneath her blouse. Then she eyed his crotch and replied, “Make sure you don’t, sweetheart. Because I eat little boys like you for breakfast.”
Lena couldn’t believe it, but Tyler flushed and yanked his hand away. Reese had actually flustered him. She laughed out loud.
“Reese, play nice with Ty. He doesn’t know you’re only teasing. Now we don’t want to scare him away, do we? Then he won’t come over to play, ever again.”
“Oh nooooooo, we don’t want that.” Reese cooed, settling back in her chair to blot her lips and apply more rum raisin lipstick. “Not when there are so many things…” Reese deliberately eyed Tyler’s crotch again, and licked her lips. “To play with.”
Tyler was horrified as he felt himself turning red once more. How was he letting some woman, he just met, show him up? He felt like some horny teenager.
Not cool. He tried to compose himself.
“Can I talk to you please?” Tyler looked at Lena. “Alone?”
Lena then looked at Reese. Reese smiled sweetly and said “Come back and see me sometime, Mr. Malone. I’m harmless. I swear. And besides.” Reese winked at Lena. “I hear we have a lot in common.” She snickered and turned her back to them.
Lena gasped, and pulled Tyler out of the room, shooting Reese a dirty look, all the while trying not to laugh.
“What did she-” Tyler began, but Lena cut him off. “Uhhhh…Tyler let’s hurry this up. I need to run some errands.”
Lena closed the door behind her and she heard Reese, still laughing.

Coming February 2013…In the meantime, read the novella where it all begins!


You can read a First Sight Saturday excerpt from Book One in this series, Give and Receive, on my blog by clicking here.


 Alisa’s Facebook              Alisa’s web page            Alisa’s Twitter

]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/02/give-and-take-on-first-sight-saturday.html/feed 0 Arouse on First Sight Saturday http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/01/arouse-on-first-sight-saturday.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/01/arouse-on-first-sight-saturday.html#comments Sat, 12 Jan 2013 13:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/01/arouse-on-first-sight-saturday.html This week on First Sight Saturday I welcome Nina Lane with Book One of her Spiral of Bliss series, Arouse.  With a name like that it should come as no surprise that it is a contemporary erotic romance, but at 406 pages there is plenty of story there too.  The cover here is a little steamy but I promise that the following excerpt of the first meeting between hero and heroine is rated PG.

SET UP: Undergraduate Olivia Winter is struggling to straighten out her coursework with an unhelpful employee at the university registrar’s office.
EXCERPT:  “Look, Miss Winter.” Mrs. Russell pushed the papers back toward me. “We can’t retroactively allow your credits to transfer.
“I’m not asking you to do it retroactively!” I said. “This is my first semester here, and I’m trying to get my courses in order. If I have to take another foreign language translation class, then I’m already behind.”
“The courses you took aren’t equivalent to the requirements for your academic program.” Mrs. Russell glanced pointedly at the line of students behind me. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
I blinked back tears, refusing to budge. “Why would they have told me the credits would transfer if they’re not equivalent?”
“Can I help with this?” A tall, handsome man approached from another section of the office, his dark eyes fixed on me, his deep voice rolling over my skin like a wave of heat on a cold winter night.
My breath stopped in my throat. The sight of him jolted something loose inside me, and for an instant I could only stare at him, struck by the sharp, masculine planes of his face, the steadiness of his expression, his aura of complete control and self-possession.
He was wearing black trousers and a navy blue shirt open at the collar to reveal a V of taut, tanned skin. His hair shone under the fluorescent lights, and I was seized by a sudden urge to tunnel my fingers through the strands to see if they felt as thick and soft as they looked.
Unnerved, I jerked my attention back to Mrs. Russell, who was explaining the situation to him. She called him “Dr. West.” Likely a professor, then. I wondered what he taught.
Dr. West listened patiently, glancing at me every so often. “What classes are you trying to take?” he asked me.
 “She’s a library sciences major, and she has to register for foreign lit translation and intro to biology,” Mrs. Russell said.
“But I shouldn’t have to take those because my credits should transfer,” I persisted.
“Make an appointment with a guidance counselor, Miss Winter,” Mrs. Russell suggested. “That’s all I can tell you.”
“By the time I do that, classes will already have started.”
“You have a couple of weeks yet to finalize your courses,” she continued. “I’m sure they’ll help you sort this out.”
I knew by the tone of Mrs. Russell’s voice that she wasn’t going to give in, and the hopelessness of the situation crashed over me.
“The professors can—” Dr. West started.
“Never mind.” Because I didn’t want to start crying in front of him, I grabbed my bag and left the office.
Halfway down the sidewalk, my vision blurry with tears, I tripped on an uneven piece of concrete and went sprawling onto my hands and knees. My open satchel thumped onto the ground, papers spilling out.
“Are you okay?” Then he was there, crouching beside me to pick up the papers before the wind caught them. He reached out a hand but stopped an inch from my arm, his fingers brushing the sleeve of my gray sweatshirt.
“I…I’m okay,” I said.
He could have touched me. He was close. Close enough that I caught a whiff of him, a clean, soapy smell that settled in my blood and loosened the knot of frustration stuck in my throat. Close enough that I noticed the size of his hands, his long fingers and the dark hairs dusting his forearm where his sleeve inched up.
Awareness shot through me. I dusted the grit from my palms and straightened. He stood between me and the street, waiting in silence for me to collect my composure. A few people passed behind me, forcing me a few steps toward him.
He held out my satchel, his gaze moving over me, eliciting a surge of heat. I pushed strands of hair away from my face and looked at him. My heart hammered, my chest pooling with warmth. I was shaken all over again by the way my body reacted to him, with this hot pull of attraction I had never experienced before.
Not for any man. Ever.
“Thank you.” I took my satchel from him and straightened the papers. All I had to do now was turn and walk away.
I didn’t. He was still looking at me, his hands in his pockets, his hair ruffled by the breeze.
“Are you a professor here?” I asked.
He was big. Not all bulky and heavy, but tall with broad shoulders, long legs, and that air of self-control that made him seem in total command. The wind flattened his shirt over his muscular chest, and I had a sudden image of folding myself against that chest and feeling his arms close around me. Safe. Protected.
Nothing to fear. Not from him.
I stepped back, not having felt this way before and not knowing where it was all coming from.
Why him? Why now?
“I’m a visiting professor for the year,” he said. “Medieval history.”
He was a medieval history professor. For whatever reason—the sheer dorkiness of the field?—this admission eased some of my tension.
“Oh.” I hitched the satchel over my shoulder and folded my arms across my breasts. “Well, thanks for your help back at the registrar’s.”
“The professors of whatever classes you need to take can approve your transfer credits,” he said. “You don’t need to go through the registrar’s office first. Get the course syllabus and bibliography from your previous college, and bring them to the professors to see if it fits their curriculum. If it covers the same ground, they should approve the transfer as a direct course equivalent.”
“Why didn’t Mrs. Russell tell me that?”
“She probably didn’t know. Professors have a lot of power.”
I almost smiled. “Even medieval history professors?”
“Especially medieval history professors,” he assured me.
“Knights on horseback and all that?”
A responding smile tugged at his mouth. “And damsels in distress.”

END OF EXCERPT

Well, I never met any hot medieval history professors in my undergrad days.  I guess I chose the wrong major.  Click here if you’d like to check Arouse out on Amazon, and if you want to know more about Nina Lane, visit her at http://www.ninalane.com.  

]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/01/arouse-on-first-sight-saturday.html/feed 0 Give and Receive on First Sight Saturday http://www.jillhughey.com/2012/12/give-and-receive-on-first-sight-saturday.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2012/12/give-and-receive-on-first-sight-saturday.html#comments Sat, 08 Dec 2012 13:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2012/12/give-and-receive-on-first-sight-saturday.html Today on First Sight Saturday I welcome Alisa Anderson, author of Give & Receive, a 53 page erotic romance novella.  (Don’t worry, Alisa has kept her excerpt PG!)  Alisa has written a great first meeting between a strong woman and a man who sounds like he needed one.  Take it away, Alisa!
SCENE SETUP:  Ty Malone, Lead singer of the band, Retribution, is remembering the first time he met his best friend, club owner and pr tycoon Lena Roman. As an unsigned act at the time, Lena, who was senior editor at Rollingstone magazine, gave their band a feature spot on her main page. She is also none too thrilled he shows up late.
EXCERPT:   As he walked up to her at the local coffee shop, all those years ago, she barely spared him a glance and continued typing on her laptop.
“You’re late.”
Thirty-three minutes late, to be exact. Because he got hung over the night before and just simply didn’t feel like getting out of bed.
Not really an excuse, but then he never had to make one.
Went with the territory.
“Traffic?” He gave a shrug and smiled, trying to use his usual charm, charisma and various forms of other bullshit, but she stood and interrupted him, leaning forward with a finger to his lips effectively silencing him.
“First. There’s not a single, solitary rat’s ass that I give if traffic made you late, which I highly doubt, since I can smell last night’s alcohol on your nasty, stale morning breath. I suspect you’re lying to me, but I’ll get back to that. Professional courtesy dictates you at least call, email or text. Carrier pigeon where available.”
Ty knew she was only just getting started.
“Second. You either want this interview or you don’t. But let me tell you what I’m not here for. I’m not here to be so enamored by all that is you, I overlook you wasting my time and disrespecting me, showing up over thirty minutes late without calling. I’m not here ready to listen to the superficial, fake crap you give all the other reporters. I want you. The real you. The aching, lonely, gaping rawness I see on stage when you perform. No more, no less. Third, and you’re going to want to pay attention to this one because it’s the most important third you’re ever going to hear, you feel me? Nod if you do.”
Ty arched his right eyebrow but didn’t say a word. He felt the prick of his temper, but let it simmer. He gave a brief, barely perceptible nod.
“That’s good, Malone. You might not be as stupid as you look with that hair. Third. Don’t think for a minute to ever lie to me again, because I will always know. Like I know you lied to me just now. Don’t wonder why. It’s magic. For all intents and purposes, think of me as a human lie detector.”
She smiled at him then. A genuine, beautiful smile. And it was then Ty knew she was never actually truly angry at him, because whatever angry was where she was concerned, he only got off with just a warning.
“Lastly, my name is Lena Roman. It might be nice to meet you, I’m not sure. You, on the other hand, are thrilled to meet me. You’re so thrilled, you’re going to tell me it is fanfreakingtastic to bask in the wonder that is me and you’re going to be sincere and you know why? No, no. Don’t answer. I’m going to tell you why. Because if you’re very nice to me and convince me you are worth more than the dirt underneath my hamster Rodney’s nutsack, I’m going to make your band the biggest group on the planet. Yes, I have a hamster named Rodney.”
As she removed her finger from his mouth, Ty clasped her hand between his and instinctively brought it to his chest.
“Hi Lena Roman. I’m Tyler Malone. It is fanfreakingtastic to meet you.”
His tone was a shade mocking.
And then, he felt it.
Something so brief and fleeting he almost missed it. Almost. 
He remembered at that moment feeling like someone had punched him in the gut with a massive fist.
Like it was the first day of the rest of his life. Like nothing else before that moment had ever really mattered.
Seconds became eons as everything around them stilled and all he felt was her hand and the rapid beat of his heart.
He would have bet money she felt something too, but as their eyes met and held, someone cleared their throat.
“Would either of you like some coffee or tea?” The waitress had stood there long enough. If she didn’t get their order soon Frankie, her boss, was going to bitch.
He blinked, the spell broken.
Lena’s eyes flickered, briefly before becoming neutral as she pulled her hand away. After he quietly put his ego in check and apologized, for real that time, they finished the interview, and talked, long after it was over.
They were pretty much inseparable ever since.
To this day they never spoke about what happened.
He never lied to her again, and Lena kept her word.
When she eventually quit her job at the magazine to help manage their career, she made Retribution the best-selling band in recent history.
Perhaps their talent helped, but not the way Lena told it.
It was her way.
END OF EXCERPT
It looks like Lena knows how to manage Mr. Ty Malone in more ways than one.  Thanks for visiting and sharing, Alisa!   Readers, below are a list of links where you can find Give & Receive and Alisa Anderson.  
Alisa on Twitter  It is worth visiting this just to see Alisa’s very hip handle.
During the week, I will be updating the Zombie Santa project, and next Saturday I’ll be visited by Jamie Lee Scott who will introduce us to her mystery Let Us Prey.
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