Welcome Jillian Chantal

A couple of years ago, I got tired of reading a romance and sighing “I could write one of these” & started actually writing one. Now, my Momma always said “If you want to learn to do something, you can find it in a book.”. So I trotted off to the library and got books on how to write a romance novel.

One of the main things they all said was that I should join RWA. Whatever that was. So I poked around online and found the chapter in my area. But, being the shy, retiring soul I am, I didn’t want to go to a meeting by myself.

Now, I knew that one of my dearest friends did a little writing in her spare time, though I didn’t know just what she wrote. But I asked her if she was interested in going with me. Turns out, yes, she writes romance, and yes, she’d love to go. And that is how Jillian Chantal and I ended up in RWA.

Jillian, like me, is a lawyer in the dayjob – we actually met as opposing counsel in a trial. (Yes, Jillian, I’ll tell them you beat me!). And so now, in addition to sharing the “joys” of practicing law, we write together, blog together, and plan to hit the NYT together.

So without further babble by moi, here’s Jillian Chantal!!!

Hello there, my name is I’m Jillian Chantal and my friend, Arabella Stokes, has been asking me to send her a guest post for her blog for a while and I’ve been tryin-

“Stop, stop, right there, Jillian. You always get to guest blog and I never get to say a word and we all know I’m the one that should get all the attention. Not you. You’re just the American writer. You’re nothing special.”

“What the heck are you doing here, Percy Hicks? You need to get back in Surfer Bride where you belong and stay off Arabella’s blog. You weren’t invited.”

“Jillian, a man of my taste and upper class upbringing doesn’t have to wait for an invitation. Having me at the soiree makes any hostess the talk of the town.”

“Don’t look down your patrician nose at me, you smug British chap in your bespoke suit from Savile Row. I may be American, but I created you and I can take an eraser to you.”

“Au contraire, mes ami. That’s French for on the contrary, my friend, for you people that aren’t cultured. And you can’t erase me. The book is out in the world and it’s in print, too. So, I’m there to stay.”

“Well, get off this blog anyway so I can talk about the book to these lovely people here that want to hear about it. They don’t want you hanging about being a nuisance.”

“Perhaps you don’t recall, madam, but I do what I want. I always get my way.”

“Not always, Percy. Step away from the author. Right now.”

“Oh, God. It’s that blasted ATF Agent, Fennimore Smith. Who invited him here?”

“I invited myself, much like you did, Hicks. Put your hands on your head, I’m hauling you in.”

“You’ll never take me alive.” Percy exits.

“Jillian, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Finn, just trying to write a blog post here.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it, ma’am. Always happy to restore order.” Finn tips his hat to Jillian and Arabella and exits.

Jillian: Now, where was I? Oh yeah, Surfer Bride. My romantic suspense novel available from Siren-BookStrand. Before I get interrupted again, here’s an excerpt:

She turned at the sound, looked around and noticed him in the sand. He tried to stand up. He pushed the heel of his hand into the ground and attempted to leverage himself up.
Before he could rise, she walked over and pushed him in the chest with her bare foot. He grabbed her ankle. She lost her balance and fell to the beach. She sat half way up, leaning on her elbows and looked at him. “What the hell you doing here, you prick?”
“Don’t act surprised, Q. You knew I’d follow you.” He said as he ran his hand up her ankle to her shin. God, her skin felt good. Smooth. Like he remembered.
She jerked her leg from his grasp as if it were on fire. “Keep your paws off me.” She backed off, crab like. Out of reach.
He leaned toward her. “Q. Will you hear me out? Can I please talk to you? I have to tell you something. I wouldn’t have come back if it wasn’t important.”
She looked at him. She stayed silent.
“Really, Quincy. This is vital. I know you’ll be glad I told you. I know you. You need to hear this.”
“Fine. If I listen, will you go away? Never try to interfere with me again?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Fine. I’ll do it. Now, can we get up? I’m not really comfortable down here on the ground.”
“I know. That was always part of your problem, Finn.” With no effort, she rose from her seat.
What?” he asked as he struggled to get up, bogged down by his agency issued thick-soled black shoes.
“Not liking sand in your shorts.”
“And that’s a problem, how?” He raised that one eyebrow again.
Intimidation tactics didn’t work with her. “Too straitlaced. Anyone who can’t deal with sand in the crack of their butt is too tightly wound for me.” They were standing close. Less than two feet separated them.
“I guess we all know where the lack of being straitlaced got you.” The sneer was back. “In bed with Craig Miller.”
The crack as she slapped his face was so loud it sounded like an aborted thunder storm. “Wondered how long it’d take for you to bring that up.”
“So, you don’t deny it?”
“Did you ever give me a chance to deny anything, jerkwad?”
“Now’s your shot, Baby. Take it. Let’s see if I believe you.” His face was mottled red, and the spittle flew from his mouth.
She looked at him for a full second. Her eyes filled with tears, and she turned away. She walked over, grabbed her board and tucked it under her arm and stalked off the beach to her Jeep.
As she stowed the board in the back with the other two, Finn walked up behind her. “Sorry about that, Q. I really didn’t look you up to bring up the past.”

She sighed and turned around. “Then why? Why’d you look me up, then? Go ahead and say what you need to say. Then leave. Please. It’s clear to me that you aren’t gonna go till you do.” She stood with her hands on her hips.
He looked at her, sad at what he had to tell her. Even after all the lies she’d told him, he still didn’t like to hurt her. “There’s no way to soften the blow, but you need to know. Your fiancé, Percy Hicks, is an arms dealer.”
She threw her head back and laughed out loud. “You’re insane, Finn. Yes, he is a dealer. I know that. He’s an antiques dealer. Not arms, antiques. This is what has you in a tizzy?” She slapped her hand on her thigh. “You misheard. But thanks for the warning. If I see a dangerous settee, I’ll be sure to get out of the way.” She laughed so hard, she cried. She bent over double, clutching her stomach. After a while, she stood back up and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
It was too much for him. His reawakened feelings for her, her wet panties and her laughing at him sent him over the edge. He grabbed a handful of her wet suit top and jerked her toward him. He lifted her off her feet by the front of the wet suit. He pulled her close, his lips locked on hers, and he rammed his tongue in her mouth and kissed her like he’d wanted to since the day he walked out of her life. His other hand slid down her spine and into her panties where it squeezed her right buttock. It was cold from being in the water. He could feel the sand in her panties.
She slid her arms around his neck and returned the kiss for the first couple of seconds. He was hard. She kissed him back until his hand entered her panties. As soon as he squeezed her butt, she jerked away from his grasp and smacked him again. “What are you trying to do, Finn?”
“Trying to stop you from marrying an arms dealer.”
“By assaulting me?”
“That wasn’t an assault.” He grinned at her.
“Hey, cop, I know what an assault is, and I bet you do, too. Kissing and pawing a woman without her consent is considered assault in this state.”
“Seemed to me you consented.” His smile broadened.
“Appearances can be deceiving.” She stopped and smacked her forehead. “Oh yeah, forgot for a moment who I was talking to. Appearances do deceive you. You can be blinder than a dead man. How you ever made detective grade, I’ll never know.”
“Nice. That’s real nice, Q.”

I hope you enjoyed the excerpt. Leave me a comment on your favorite place to catch a wave and I’ll send a lucky commenter some sun screen. The brand the heroine, Quincy Holt, uses.
Thanks for having me, Arabella. Sorry about the interruptions.

Where can we find you on the web? http://www.jillianchantal.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/JillianChantal
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/jillian.chantal
SirenBookstrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/jillian-chantal
DesertBreeze: http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/StoreFront.bok
Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/SurferBookStrandPublishingRomanceebook/dp/B004TBK77M/ref=tag_dpp_lp_edpp_ttl_in

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