Please welcome Jenny Lyn to Seawitch today, y’all. Jenny is here to talk about her latest, HEART TROUBLE. To celebrate she’s having a great giveaeay via rafflecopter.
1st prixe is a $25 GC (Amazon or B&N) + a silver necklace ($25 value).
2nd prize is a $25 GC (Amazon or B&N).
3rd prize is a $10 GC (Amazon or B&N).
I loved the little snippet I first read where Dr. Erin is thinking she would rather be tied to a gurney in the ER than trolling a bar. How easy or hard do you find putting humor in your stories?
First of all, thank you for having me today, and I’m thrilled you found that part of my blurb funny. Adding humor to a story is tricky. For one thing, not everyone will share your same sense of humor. Mine tends to run on the snarky side. If you do choose to try and add humor, it’s kind of like salt in a recipe. You have to use the right amount—too little and the effort falls flat, or too much and it becomes tiresome for the reader. But I believe in putting in my stories for a few reasons. One, for levity, and two, for a personality trait. Personally, I don’t want to be around someone who doesn’t know how to laugh or joke once in a while. As far as it being hard or easy to add to a story, I let my characters guide me.
How do you pick the professions for your characters and do they ever rebel against what you’ve picked to the point that you’ve changed them?
That’s a really good question and I think the answer depends on each writer’s individual style. Some writers start with characters personalities and develop the story from there. For me, my characters professions are usually a major part of the storyline, so there’s not a lot of wiggle room. If they rebel, it’s a sign that the story is not going to work. Naturally some professions are harder to write than others. That was especially true of Heart Trouble. Writing doctors is tough in that you really have to do your homework to make sure you get their responses and medical speak correct, otherwise you’ll lose your reader. But for whatever profession a writer chooses to give their characters, we owe the reader authenticity.
If you weren’t writing, what would you be doing?
Rocking in a corner somewhere. Honestly, I’d probably go a little nuts. Writers really do hear voices in their heads, so to speak. Putting it all down on paper or into a word processor is just a substitute for lithium and a straitjacket I suppose.
There was something different about Erin, something that didn’t quite mesh with the sex-kitten outfit. The clothes didn’t suit the girl who wore them. She was smart, quick on her feet. She was flirty, but not in an over-the-top, in-your-face kind of way. She didn’t reek of expensive, over-applied perfume and there wasn’t a piece of flashy jewelry to be found on her. Her makeup was tasteful and minimalist. Even her nails were bare of polish, trimmed short and neat.
The pulse at the base of her neck beat rapidly too, belying her calm outward demeanor. Why would a woman who looked like her—who could have any guy in the place with one crook of a finger—be nervous talking to him? It didn’t add up.
“I’m not sure yet,” she said. “I’ll answer that after we’ve talked for a bit.”
He grinned to hide a wave of disappointment. “Okay, I guess that’s fair.”
“Married?” she asked.
The directness of her question caught him a little off guard, since they were flirting with each other, but then he knew there were women out there who wouldn’t be deterred by the presence of a wedding band, or the indention left behind by one hidden away in a pocket. Some of them even sought married men out. She wasn’t one of those women. There was no doubt in his mind if he said yes, Erin would spin on her high heels and leave him choking on her dust.
“Oh, God no,” she said, as if she found the idea repulsive. “Ever been?”
“Got close once. Caught her in bed with our neighbor and his brother.”
Erin grimaced. “Ouch.”
“Yeah, it hurt for about a day, until I realized they’d done me a huge favor. How ’bout you? Ever been close?”
“No,” she said, glancing down at the drink she held in her hand.
“How’s that possible?”
“I’m a workaholic.” She tapped her temple with a finger. “Kind a have a hard time shutting down, ya know?”
Sean got that. He suffered from the same affliction. “What do you do?”
Her mouth twitched before she took a sip of her drink. “What do you think I do?”
So they were going to play that game. Well, all right then. Normally he wasn’t into games when it came to women. It turned him off faster than a light switch, no matter how beautiful she was. It would take a hell of a lot more than that for this woman to turn him off.
Sean let his eyes drift over her body again, cataloging every curve and freckle. He’d been good up to this point, keeping his gaze trained on her face like a gentleman should, when he wanted to stare at her chest till his eyes bled.
She smirked. “Not even close.”
She laughed then, a deeply genuine sound that made him want to feel it with his mouth pressed against her throat. “That’s closer than you might think. What about you?”
He grazed the back of her hand with his fingertips. “Wait a second. You dodged an answer.”
“Did I?” she asked, feigning innocence. “I’d rather ask you questions.”
He sighed and shook his head in frustration. Maybe he had to pass some crazy female test. “I’m a cop.”
Her eyebrows shot up, something like wonder filling her eyes. “Cool! Can I see your badge?”
He reached into his front pocket and pulled it out, flipping it over in his palm. When she pursed her lips and nodded, he tucked it away.
She leaned closer until their shoulders touched, lowered her voice to a sexy murmur. “Are you wearing a gun right now?”
Good thing the bar didn’t allow smoking inside. He breathed deep, catching her soft scent. She smelled like…honey? He’d be willing to bet she’d taste like it too. Everywhere.
“Yeah, I’m packing.” Christ, was that ever a loaded statement, considering his dick had been half hard ever since she’d walked up to him.
Her eyes turned smoky. “Oddly, I’m quite turned on by that.”
It was Sean’s turn to laugh out loud at her directness. She sure didn’t pull any punches. He wanted to kiss her right then and there, among other things. “Well, that’s a new one.”
If he wasn’t mistaken, she blushed. “Seriously? A woman has never said the thought of you packing heat is a huge turn on? What’s wrong with the women you’ve dated?”
For one thing, none of them were anything like you. He grew somber, studying her incredible smiling face. The desire to get closer to her was palpable, both physically and intellectually. “You want to get out of here? Go grab a cup of coffee someplace quiet, so we can talk some more?”
Her pretty lips parted to reply. Unfortunately, that was when all hell chose to break loose.
I started reading when I was four, thanks to a babysitter who found out the only way to get me to sit still (and shut up) was to put a book in my hand. By the time I entered kindergarten, I’d blown through just about every Little Golden Book ever printed. Ten years later, much to my mother’s dismay, I found her stash of paperback romance novels. She tried to divert me back to something more chaste by buying me Harlequins, but I still snuck copies of her Kathleen Woodiwiss’s and Johanna Lindsey’s when she wasn’t looking. Shanna, The Flame and the Flower, and Fires of Winter will always hold special places in my heart because they introduced me to roguish heroes, headstrong heroines, and the trouble they could get into together.
I live with my family in a swampy little corner of north-central Florida, close to the Gulf of Mexico and the historic Suwannee River. It’s hot, humid and full of mosquitos, but I wouldn’t trade it for… actually, I would trade it for a cottage on the beach somewhere in the Keys.