Eden Finley's Blog, page 2

Blair Rhodes considers himself an equal opportunity player. He knew from a young age that he wasn’t entirely straight. Ogling his best friend’s older brother was the first thing that tipped him off. But Garrett Erikson is off limits. Always has been. Garrett is as straight as they come.

Garrett’s reputation as a womaniser precedes him, but it’s not who he is. Not even close. And when Blair turns up on his doorstep, heartbroken over a breakup, Garrett knows it’s a bad idea to go drinking with him.

One night is all it takes for everything to change.

For the past ten years, Garrett’s denied his desires to everyone, including himself. And as much as Blair wants to be the guy Garrett needs, he needs to protect his own heart. Like his ex-boyfriend always told him: “Never mess with the straight ones. It only leads to trouble.”

I don’t even know where to start with this book. I only recently fell in love with the MM genre (within the last eighteen months or so), and I guess the thing that I was drawn to the most about this genre is the angst angle that MF romances don’t have.

I’ve never spent so much time or research on a book before, and because of this, Garrett and Blair may just be my favourite couple I’ve ever written. It was a LOT of work, and I’m fairly certain most of my Facebook friends and family think I’m bisexual with how many LGBTQ articles I’ve read and liked.

At time of publishing, right this instance as I write this blog post, gay marriage is still illegal in Australia. We’re behind a lot of the world when it comes to LGBTQ rights. Which is something my brain often just can’t comprehend. My country doesn’t even allow basic rights to people who are in love.

And while the book deals with Garrett’s fear in coming out as a gay man, my main focus was on Blair, and his fight against bi-phobia. His friends never quite understood it, his parents flat out wanted to ignore it, and his ex-boyfriend (someone who is gay and a big part of the LGBTQ community) thinks bisexuality isn’t real; that bi guys will always end up in a hetero relationship in the end.

And from what I’ve learned in my research is that this is a common thing bisexual people have to deal with. They don’t always feel accepted in the LGBT community because they aren’t “gay” enough. Blair is comfortable in his sexuality within himself to know who he is, but because of this, he still feels the need to hide his affinity towards guys.

The book itself took on a mind of its own. It’s spread over five years. It takes FIVE YEARS for these jackasses to get their shit together. But as with all Eden Finley romances, a HEA is guaranteed, with no cliffhanger in sight!

Because this book means a lot to me, I’m terrified of when it hits the shelves (Come May 22, you might find me cuddling a bottle of vodka). I know the book won’t be for all readers, but I’m hoping as a straight female, I’ve at least done the genre some justice and fans will love my boys even half as much as I do.

 

EXCERPT

Even though my friends were the best friends I could ask for, I didn’t realise there were certain things they weren’t completely comfortable with. We’d known each other since we were kids, and we were the type of friends who would rip into each other over every little thing. Like when Hunter introduced us to Sara a few months ago, we spent a good twenty minutes ribbing him about hanging up his manwhore status and joking about the impending apocalypse. We painted vivid pictures of the devil wearing ice skates and pigs wearing angel wings.

Yet, when I came out and told them I had a boyfriend years ago, I was met with vacant stares and silence. I thought it was from shock, that I needed to give them time. It wasn’t every day one of your best friends said “So, I’ve met someone. His name is Marc, and yes, that’s the correct pronoun.”

Maybe I should’ve broken it to them differently.

When the jokes didn’t come, and then Marc left me, it was over, and so was talking about Blair’s one “gay” relationship.

After the fact, I expected—hoped—they’d start making light of it. There were perfect opportunities. Like when Pip asked Reece to go shopping, I expected to hear “Don’t forget to take Blair. He was gay once.” Offensive? Yes. But I never realised how offensive silence could be until I came out.

I was practically shoved back into the closet. Because if I dated mainly women, I was straight, right? Wrong. So very wrong.

Hitting on a guy in the vicinity of my friends was still a novelty to me. Standing from the booth, I went to head towards the surfer guy who was checking me out, but Hunter grabbed my arm to stop me.

“Maybe you should go to the bar and buy me a drink first,” he said.

“Get your own drink. Or better yet, get your girlfriend to get it. Isn’t that her job?”

“Paige, did Blair just say what I think he said?” Sara asked.

“Yup.”

“Could you please remind him that he rents my boyfriend’s brother’s apartment and that sexist remarks may result in eviction?”

“Bullshit,” I said with a smile. “I’m an awesome tenant. Garrett would never kick me out.” For more reasons than one.

“Pseudo-sister trumps awesome tenant,” Sara said.

But does it trump ex-fuck-buddy? How I wished I could’ve said that aloud. I may’ve been out of the closet now, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t hiding some skeletons.

“Dude, seriously,” Hunter said. “Can you please go and buy me a beer?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Why are you trying to cock-block me?”

“I’m not,” he lied. His voice was too innocent and high pitched. “I just really want a beer.”

“Okay, I know he’s lying,” Sara said. “That’s his lying voice.”

I laughed. “Man, you are so screwed. Your girlfriend knows when you’re lying.”

“I’m not lying,” Hunter said.

“What I want to know is why—” My words died on my tongue when someone walked into the bar.

My life, which was constantly on a tilted axis, finally righted itself for the first time in three months—the last time he was home.

I was frozen to the spot, still standing next to our booth.

He was the complete opposite of the surfer. His black hair was in his trademark Erikson quiff style, his wide shoulders and muscular arms looked even larger than I remembered, and the knowing smirk I knew so well was plastered on his handsome face. And those soulful dark eyes … Damn.

He approached the table but didn’t acknowledge the others. Not even his brother.

“Blair Rhodes, as I live and breathe.” His voice was as smooth as it always was. Confident with a side of cocky.

I cleared my throat. “Home twice in a few months. Don’t you live in Sydney?”

Even though we had a fucked-up history—which was putting it mildly—he always had the ability to make me smile just by entering the room. Even back then when everything was so screwed up.

Five freaking years of back and forth.

Garrett-fucking-Erikson.

He was the only guy I knew who was so far in the closet he practically lived in Narnia.

“Not anymore. I’m back. For good.”

Here we go again.

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One night. One stupid mistake. Two pink lines.

Spencer Crowley wants the one thing he can’t have: Reece Knightly—the girl he’s been in love with since the age of twelve. And now, at twenty-seven, Reece is still off-limits. The fact she’s his best friend’s ex-wife isn’t the only problem. The big rock on her finger screams hands off. Spencer has to sit back and watch as she plans to marry yet another man who isn’t him.

Reece is ready to trade loneliness for the stability marriage will provide, but there’s that nagging feeling in the back of her mind telling her something’s not right. Paul might not be who she wants, but it’s who she needs.

When Reece and Spencer find themselves alone at the pub, the liquor flows freely and mistakes are made.

It’s a drunken mishap they both vow to forget. Only, fate won’t let them off the hook that easily.

Oh, Reece and Spence. What have you done? *sigh*

I wasn’t going to write you two a book. I figured no one wanted to read about your affair. I didn’t think Reece’s character was redeemable after her behaviour in One Night with Hemsworth.

Yet, you pushed and pushed and asked I try to redeem you, because you want the world to know that not everything is black and white. You made mistakes … a lot of them, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a bad person, Reece.

I don’t know if I managed to make you likeable, but I hope readers realise that you’re motivations weren’t always self-serving.

Excerpt:

There were always three sides to every story. Theirs, yours, and the truth.

In every version of my life, I’d become the villain of all three.

Perhaps it was the way I was raised. Perhaps I was a bitch to my core.

All I knew was, since sleeping with Spencer, I became a person I despised.

I wasn’t a cheater.

I wasn’t a liar.

I wasn’t a cold-hearted bitch.

Yet, in the span of a few weeks, I became all three.

I proved this when I turned up on Cole’s doorstep at six AM.

The whole morning was a fuzzy haze.

I remembered banging on the door. Hunter letting me in. Walking in on Cole and Paige in a half-dressed state.

The miniscule piece of hope I was holding onto that it was a different Paige than my soon-to-be stepdaughter was dashed.

“What the fuck, Cole? How could you do this to me?” I yelled.

He took a few steps back. “To you? I’ve done nothing to you.”

“Fucking Paul’s daughter has nothing to do with me? Really?” I took out my phone and replayed our phone call.

When I took out the domestic violence order against Cole years ago, the police suggested I download an app that recorded all my phone calls.

There was no way Cole could try to tell me I heard wrong.

Cole let out a loud breath. “We’re not just screwing around. We’re together.”

Together. With my stepdaughter. Paul’s daughter.

I lost it. And the sad part was, I knew my anger was displaced, but I couldn’t stop the verbal vomit as it flew out my mouth.

Not only was it vindictive, but it was harsh.

Words like “If you don’t end it, you won’t be able to see Cody again” were thrown out there. Cole signed over his parental rights when we split because of what he did to me. He didn’t want Cody around that. But when he sobered up, he wanted visitation, and I gave it to him. I had the power to take Cody away from him, and I dangled that over their heads to get my way. Something I had no right to do.

Things like raging alcoholic, he caused my miscarriage when he attacked me, and he’s not a good person were also yelled.

And when Cole told me “I feel so much more for Paige than I ever did for you,” the anger that should’ve been directed at myself was projected onto the man I blamed my crappy life for. But this time, he didn’t deserve it.

I was fighting to keep a hold of something I didn’t even want. And for what? To cover up an affair I had while engaged to a man I had doubts about marrying.

I took everything out on them when I should’ve been confessing my own sins.

That didn’t stop me from trying to justify my actions as I told Paige she would be better off without him.

True or not, it wasn’t my place.

If I could’ve taken it all back, I would have.

But by this point, I was so far in the hole I couldn’t see the light anymore. There was no light.

I was drowning, and I wasn’t strong enough to fight it. Instead, I pushed everyone else down so I could remain afloat. The problem with that was, I knew I’d run out of people to lean on eventually, effectively drowning us all.

When I started writing, I thought I would always stick to writing Young Adult. It’s who I am (someone who hasn’t matured enough to be considered an adult yet. I may be in my thirties but I’m still holding out for the grownup gene. If anyone has any spares, can you send them my way? Thanks.)

I’ve always loved reading Romance, and all of my Young Adult titles have romantic elements, but obviously written on a more innocent scale than my One Night Series.

It’s actually one of my YA works than inspired this series.

One Night with Hemsworth is about Cole, a twenty-seven-year-old divorcee, and Paige, an almost twenty-one law student. Their love is … awkward, considering Cole was once married to Paige’s soon-to-be stepmother.

The odd dynamic was drawn from one of my YA books where my main character falls for a girl who happens to be his adopted sister’s biological sister. While writing this book, my two love birds kept trying to get inappropriate for a YA novel, and I had to rein them in.

Figuring I needed an outlet, I started writing those inappropriate scenes. And Hemsworth was born.

While writing Hemsworth, Cole’s best friend, Hunter, kept trying to steal the show. He’s one of those characters who demands his own book. And that’s how One Night with Calvin came about.

There. I was done. Two books under a pen name, I could release and not devote much time to.

Only …

Reece: I don’t like the way you depicted me in book 1. I’m not evil. I swear. I didn’t want to be the villain, but I’m messed-up. Please, please, please can you tell my side of the story?

So, I get started writing on One Night with Fate, where Reece has a one-night stand with one of her best friends since childhood and gets pregnant. Only, she happens to be engaged to someone else at the time. (Hence the villiany).

However, halfway through writing this one, a side character who’s been mentioned a few times but hadn’t been given any depth quite yet started whispering in my ear. “So, I thought you should know, you’ve kinda written me as a straight dude thus far. Can I just say you’re totally wrong.”

One Night with Rhodes ended up being written and finished long before Reece’s story, even though it’s book 4 of the series.

Seriously, I can’t keep up with these characters who continue to derail my Young Adult career by bringing my focus away from it.

But would I have it any other way? Hell no!

I love my One Night crew.

4 books down, 1 to go. And then who knows? My brain is full of a million ideas, and not all of them a teen appropriate. I’ll leave those ones to “Eden”.

For anyone interested in my Young Adult works (and finding out my real identity), click HERE. But before you do, you have to raise your right hand and solemnly swear you will not give away my smutty identity. Especially, don’t tell my mother. She won’t care about the content I write, but I’m scared she’ll want to read it!

 

authorkaylahowarth.wordpress.com/2016/11/25/to-americanize-or-not-to-americanise/To americanize or not to AmericaniseHere's a little insight into the workings of one complicated mind. MINE. Brace yourselves, because this may not be pretty. When I started writing, I decided to set my first book in Australia because, well, I'm Australian. Please don't hold that against me. We're not all binge drinking, stubbie wearing (short shorts) drongos (idiots). I figured it would be easier to write what I know because I wouldn't have to worry about remembering to drop the U out of colour, favour, habour, labour ... you get the point. I wouldn't have to remember that realise has a Z in it. I was also starting out and didn't have the money to hire a proper proofreader who would change these things if I messed it up. But the more I write, the more I realise there's no way I'm going to be able to write a book set in America because I am TOO Australian. For instance, I had no idea 'How ya going?' was not a universal thing until a beta reader laughed at it and asked 'Huh?' (Translation: How are you today?) A yobbo is an idiot (notice we have a lot of words for idiot?), a prawn is a shrimp (yes, if we had a Bubba Gump Shrimp over here, it would be called Bubba Gump Prawn ... not as catchy, really) and the boot of a car is called a trunk. Don't even think about calling someone a bogan. And what about fairy bread? What is this, you ask? Only the best invention ever. Bread, butter, sprinkles (Also know down here as Hundreds and Thousands). Go. GO EAT THIS DELICIOUSNESS RIGHT NOW! I have an awesome editor now (who is actually American), and if I set my mind to it, I really could set a series in the US. But I've taken it upon myself to educate my readers about the awesomeness of the broken English we call Aussie slang. So I think I'm gonna stick to writing about Australian's who say random stuff that make my readers whip out Google. 'on ya, mate. (Translation: Good on you, friend.) So, having said the above, there are a few Americanisms I have adapted to my writing, and here are the reasons why: Ass. That's right, ladies and gentleman. Ass is spelled arse over here. One of my favourite things to do is call someone an arse, and singularly, I prefer arse to ass. (I don't think I have typed the word arse/ass so much in one damn paragraph.) However, put it together with other lovely terminology of name calling and what do we have?Arsehole (that just looks wrong)Jackarse (umm wha?)Dumbarse (you get where I'm going with this)So, my original idea was to adapt whole words like asshole, jackass, and dumbass, but keep arse for singular. But what about the inconsistency? Dammit, what's a girl to do when she is faced with such large life dilemmas like choosing between using the word arse or ass? I referred to the number one rule of writing. Okay, maybe not THE number one rule. There is no one rule that beats out all the others. There's a billion rules, all of which aren't set in stone, that all make my head hurt if I think about them too hard, and ... okay, I'm getting off track. One of said many, many, many, many rules is to stay consistent. And this is how my brain decided to use ass over arse. (Are we having fun picking apart how my mind works yet? No? Let's keep going!) Living room. What most Australians call a lounge room, I tend to gravitate towards the more universal word of living room. Everyone knows what it means with little explanation. Thongs/Flip-flops. You know what? None of my characters wear thongs. It's just easier that way, because calling them flip-flops in Australia is just WRONG. And calling them thongs makes Americans think we wear underwear on our feet (when we all know, we only do that when we're at home alone.) I try to make my characters wear boots or heels. Tank top. In Australia, we call tank tops singlets. After finding out that's what Americans call wrestling outfits, I decided to take on tank top as part of my written vocabulary. I assume most Aussies know what a tank top is, but not everyone knows what we mean when we say singlet. I'm positive I've taken on more than the ones stated above, but these are the ones that stick out in my mind, because they're ones that are used often. I've heard it's a trend right now for UK English writers to adapt to US English spellings, creating a sort of mix breed of English. AKA Canadian English. OOH SNAP! Hi Canadian friends. I love you. When it's all said and done, language barriers can be a pain for writers, but sometimes even moreso for readers. I've had readers complain that while my books are set in Australia, not all the language fits with being Australian. But I've had way more reviews tell me they want my books translated to American because apparently the Australian language doesn't make sense. To which all I have to say is: Strewth, there must be kangaroos loose in the top paddock for 'em not to get what I'm sayin'. My writing's chockas with bloody ripper words. Deadset, mate. Anyone care to translate?      

Us romance readers are an interesting breed of human. We're a fickle bunch and find that what works for one story, won't work for another. It could come down to basic preference, or it could be that one author paints a better picture.

​I'll start with my rules that I need or don't want in a romance book:​No dumb heroines​No BDSMNo abuse/rape scenes (mentioning of such events occurring is okay, but I don't want to see explicit scenes)
​No cheating (whether this be that either MC is married/in a relationship and cheats with other MC or if it's an MC cheating on an MC)No explicit scenes between MC and other people, even if the two MCs are broken up (I'm okay with MCs having other relations, I just don't want to see it in explicit detail)
My men can be cocky and arrogant, but they need to draw the line before plain old assholism. There's a fine line between confident and being a super douche-canoe
Low angst
Needs humourNO CLIFFHANGERS (in other genres this is okay, but it's a pet hate for me for ROMANCE. My romances need a HEA or HFN. And don't even get me on those serials where the book stops mid story at not even a cliffhanger.  Just ends .... because .... reasons)
​Now I will add other rules I have seen in blogs and Goodreads:​No explicit sex (BAHAHAHA sorry. I just find it funny when people read a romance novel with a half naked guy on the front and then complain there's 'too much sex'.No swearing (please don't read my fucking books)
Same-sex relationships only (because bigotry)
No ménage (but they're so much fun!)
No disease/dying (this one I actually understand because a lot of people read romance to fall in love, not to cry into a bucket of ice cream when they're done)
No step-relationships (while I find this one kinda icky because I couldn't fathom ever finding my unemployed, overweight, forty-five-year-old stepbrother attractive, I've read a few and enjoyed them, so it's not a deal breaker for me)​
Okay, so I'm exhausted just looking at those lists. Now, here's the issue: how are authors meant to write books that will appeal to a wide-range of audience when there's so many rules they need to follow.

The logical thing to do would be to ignore reviewers and write the story you want to. After all, I love a low angst story, but I know there are a lot of people out there who love to want to rip their heart out, trod on it, and then not sleep for days because of a book.

​Also having said that, if I could only pick one thing on my list and wish every romance author out there would oblige to, it would be, please, please, please, don't put a woman down/have the hero treat the heroine with disrespect. Calling her a whore or a slut, have borderline domestic abuse tendencies and still have the heroine fall at his feet. It's disgusting.

​In a world that still perpetuates rape culture, we as authors need to squash the notion that girls are whores and men who sleep around are revered. The fact it's 2016 and I'm having to write a plea to stop with the slut-shaming is upsetting.

​We need to fall in love with the characters early on. Even the anti-heroes need redeeming features. It's easier to fogive a stupid action after we've fallen in love with the character. It's harder to get a reader to fall in love with someone who is despicable in the beginning. Our characters need flaws and need to grow, but also not be so far past the asshole line that I want to stop reading.

​What are things you don't like to see in romance novels?

​Eden out *drops mic*

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​Release date: 10th June, 2016!

CLICK HERE TO LEARN MORE ABOUT COLE AND HIS DEMONS.

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