Giveaway by Leigh Carron
Prize: One lucky commenter will win an ebook copy of Fat Girl with a personalized note from Leigh and an invite to discuss any aspect of the book or writing, in general. Plus a $25 Amazon gift card.
How to enter: Body image is a central theme in Fat Girl. In the spirit of celebrating body diversity and promoting positive self-talk, please share one thing you like about your body.
Deadline: Contest ends August 3, 2014 by 11:59 pm EST.
Read my interview and an Exclusive Excerpt below. For more on how to enter, go to: http://romancenovelsincolor.com/giveaway-by-leigh-carron/#sthash.n4lq6PYG.dpuf
Join us in welcoming, Leigh Carron, author of Fat Girl to the site as she answers our interview questions and introduces us to her novel.
What is the most romantic gesture you’ve ever received?
The day my husband, at the time my good friend, looked at me over a cup of tea (he’s British) and said, “I’ve fallen for you.” It was sweet and honest, and made my heart melt.
When is your favorite time of the day to make love?
In the wee hours, before the dawn breaks, when it’s still dark outside and we’re warm and drowsy from sleep.
What type of music do you listen to?
I have eclectic taste, enjoying a wide array of music from R&B, to old Motown to jazzy-blues, to classic Prince, and yes, even country. But probably most interesting, is that I have a soft spot for Barry Manilow, and I’m willing to admit it. LOL. In fact, I once went with a friend to see his concert and we belted out the words to every song. Good times.
What types of books are on your bookshelf at home?
Romance. The steamier, the better. I adore intense passion between two people in love or finding their way there. I also have a preference for diversity in characters. Books that feature nontraditional female main characters are among my favorites.
What is your favorite body part on a man?
My favorite body part on a man are big, strong shoulders. Something wide, sure and steady I can lean on when I need to.
Which TV show(s) can you absolutely not miss every week?
Hell’s Kitchen and Scandal.
Short answer choices:
Leather or lace? Leather
Long or short hair? Short hair
Fruity drink or strong liquor? Fruity drink
Heels or flats? Heels
Jeans or skirt? Jeans
Coffee or tea? Tea
Glamorous girl or girl next door? Girl next door
Picky eater or adventurous? Adventurous
Glamorous makeup or au naturale? Au naturale
Sexy bed-head or sophisticated coif? Definitely sexy bed-head!
What inspired you to write your latest release?
I wanted to write about a female character that I thought most women could relate to in some way. Many of us, regardless of size, have a fat girl who lives inside her. It’s the voice that tells us we’re not skinny enough or perfect enough. Fat Girl is a sexy romance about former lovers, but it’s also a story about self-acceptance.
What was the nicest comment or most interesting question you’ve received from a reader?
My readers have been so supportive and I love hearing from them. I do a happy dance each time, so it was difficult to pick just one. Theresa from Virginia wrote these kind words: I love finding a new author who writes the books I wish I had written. With Leigh Carron and her first novel, Fat Girl, I feel like I’ve just discovered the next big thing (no pun intended). Great character development, unique storyline, and the adept flow of words that keeps the pages turning. Oh, and the hot passion between the main character, Deeana, and her long-lost, but found again love, Micah. Can’t wait to read the sequel!
Ask and answer a question we didn’t ask.
What do I hope readers take away from my book?
On the entertainment side, I hope readers will find Fat Girl, steamy and romantic with relatable, well-developed characters and interesting plots. On a deeper level, I hope readers will learn through Dee’s fictional journey that there is no one size that makes you beautiful, sexy, lovable or worthy.
About Fat Girl: Years after fleeing small-town Springvale, Illinois, Deanna Chase has picked up the pieces of her shattered heart and built a new life for herself as a child advocacy lawyer. Her food addiction is quasi under control, her secrets are buried, and she has even made a tenuous peace with her plus-size body. Until…
Micah Peters—the very sexy and now famous man she fled— walks through her office door and sends Dee reeling. His demand that she help a young boy caught in a custody battle will reunite her with the past she left behind.
Torn between duty and self-preservation, Dee isn’t easy to convince. But when obligation wins, the former lovers get more than they bargained for—a searing passion that burns hotter than ever and startling revelations about what really happened the fateful night she left.
Will the truth set Dee free to love again? Or will past hurts and lingering insecurities destine her to walk away from her heart again, this time for good?
I’m in control.
I have high hopes of making my morning pep talk a reality. Right up to the moment that I walk through the open gym door and hear Mick’s husky laugh bouncing off the walls.
I jerk to a halt. My gaze rivets to the man with his large biceps wrapped around Dwayde in a body lock, making my client giggle hysterically on a day when I wouldn’t think that was possible. This playful side of Mick—a side I remember well—jumbles my thoughts and weakens my resolve.
I’m still trying to regain my composure when he suddenly looks over. His espresso-brown eyes meet mine and his laughter dies.
“Ha! You lose, Uncle Mick,” Dwayde hoots, wiggling free.
“That shouldn’t count,” he says, his gaze raking me from the top of my head to the tips of my shoes. “I was distracted.”
Insecurities launch to the surface, but I resist tugging at my clothes. “Hi, Dwayde.”
“Oh, hey, Ms. C,” Dwayde replies, his smile faltering too.
It’s disconcerting to be considered such a killjoy. “Seems I interrupted something.”
Dwayde scuffs his sneaker on the floor. “Me and Uncle Mick were just fooling around.”
“How are you, Dee?” The vibration of Mick’s deep voice ripples through me.
“Fine, thank you,” I reply politely, aware of Dwayde watching us. He knows about our past. It shows in the way he’s gauging our interaction.
“It’s good to see you again,” Mick continues keeping up the friendly pretense. “You’re looking well.”
“Thanks. You too,” I reply acknowledging even as I speak what an understatement that is. Mick looks sinfully gorgeous. Worn jeans sit low on his narrow hips and a white T-shirt stands out in brilliant contrast against his rich caramel skin. The soft cotton hugs his torso, highlighting the curves of his pecs and the hard plane of his abdomen. The waves of his hair swirl at the ends like haphazardly placed commas, and the stubble on his strong jaw gives him that sexy, just-rolled-out-of-bed look.
His lips tilt up at the corners for his famous smile. But there’s a taunting edge to it that’s reserved for my benefit alone. “We’ll have to get together soon and catch up on old times.”
I keep my expression trained on neutral as his threat flushes my body.
“Dwayde, we should get going before we’re late.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Mick announces, delaying my escape. He picks up a red Nike Signature cap off the bench and positions it on his head, bringing the bill down low.
“Do you think the media are out there, Uncle Mick?” Dwayde asks nervously while Mick slips on a leather jacket and dark shaded Oakleys.
“Probably not. If they were, Max and Stiles would have let me know.”
Dwayde nods, seeming reassured, and I wonder who Max and Stiles are.
Mick adjusts his brim one last time and steps forward with his familiar long, easy strides. “After you.” He gestures and I precede him through the gym door and down the corridor.
Even in his disguise, Mick draws attention. He’s just so male. So potent. So there. But obviously accustomed to the rubberneckers and oglers, I don’t hear him skip a beat in his bantering with Dwayde about who’s going to be the master of some video game.
Just before we reach the front doors, I feel a large hand settle onto my lower back, and the sudden contact causes me to jump.
Mick firms his hold and leans in close enough for his mouth to glance my ear. His breath is warm and he smells amazing. “As a precaution, let me go first. I don’t want you walking out into anything unexpected.”
I gulp fretfully, my anxiety as much about his nearness as it is about the idea of being plastered across the tabloids with Mick. I doubt the headlines would be kind to me, and I’d rather not find out.
He drops his hand and the loss of contact leaves me feeling disturbingly bereft. I watch him step around me and push through the double doors. He scans the outside as if expecting the paparazzi to leap out of the bushes at any moment.
“Mr. Peters?” A large, muscular man with arms the size of boulders moves toward Mick with surprising agility. “The coast is clear, sir.”
So Stiles is a bodyguard? With his deep brown skin, polished bald head and black bushy eyebrows, he resembles a dark, badass version of Mr. Clean.
“That’s all for now,” Mick adds, extending his hand, and they share a firm shake. “I’ll be in touch.”
Stiles takes his leave and joins an equally mountainous man, this one with a handlebar mustache, standing beside a black Hummer.
“Just taking the necessary precautions since the last incident with the press,” Mick explains to me and resumes his long-legged strides down the stairs to the parking lot.
I can’t even begin to fathom living this way. And I wonder if Mick would say selling out his dreams for fame and fortune was worth the loss of privacy and freedom.
“Which one is yours?” he asks.
I indicate the silver Acura and dig the remote from my purse. While I click open the locks, Mick pulls Dwayde into a hug. “You know I love you, right?”
The preteen hunches his shoulders, likely embarrassed by Mick’s affectionate display in front of me and the bulky men watching us. “Yeah, sure.”
“But even so.” His tone sounds teasing as they draw apart. “That’s not going to stop me from taking you down.”
“In your dreams, Uncle Mick.”
Mick goes in for a tussle that has Dwayde laughing again…and my heart thawing. Angry with myself for letting Mick get to me, I wrench open the driver’s side door.
“Dee?” he calls out.
The breeze steals a couple of curls from my ponytail and blows them across my face as I reluctantly look back over my shoulder. Although his eyes are shielded, I can feel them touching me here, caressing me there.
“I’ll see you later.”
His dark promise feathers tiny tingles over my skin and radiates heat from the juncture of my thighs. I swallow down the unwanted desire. But through his mirrored lenses my conflicted reflection is tossed back at me. Afraid my voice—like my body—will betray me, without responding, I turn away before Mick sees too much.
Before he realizes just how much he still affects me.