Thanks to Monique for inviting me to her Musical Monday blog.
I love music and I love dancing but my favourite music is jazz and swing. I’ve always had a thing for songs by Gershwin and Berlin. It must be the romantic in me.
I started writing in 2005 and aspired to write for Mills and Boon, but my books weren’t good enough. First, I was still learning my craft and second, I was trying to fit my “voice” into a line that really didn’t suit me. Just because I loved reading it, didn’t mean I could write for it.
After years of writing and rejections, I decided to write what I wanted, not what I thought the publishers wanted. And so I created a sexy crooner who sang all the songs I love, and could tap dance. Ta da! Meet Alex Jackson who has millions of fans, is hugely talented, handsome (of course!) but is broken inside.
All my love for handsome and talented singers/artists – Michael Bublé, Harry Connick Jnr and Michael Feinstein, has been poured in to my hero Alex.
Most of the books featuring musicians feature bad boy rockers but Alex is clean cut, no tattoos and can tap dance upside down.
I wrote from the heart and so far, my readers have loved Kisses under the Spotlight with Alex. Hooray! They’ve told me they like the book because it’s different.
I never intended to write a series, the book was supposed to be a standalone but when I wrote the final scene, I couldn’t let my characters go and wrote more, so now I have a 4-book series.
If you like handsome crooners, then Kisses under the Spotlight is for you. Here’s an excerpt –
In her twenty-eight years, Violet McKenzie had been presented with a few surreal moments. The most recent seeing a naked photo of herself plastered all over the Internet. But nothing, seriously nothing, could compare to meeting Alex Jackson.
The Alex Jackson.
The unassuming, jazz singing, jazz dancing, jazz superstar.
All six foot plus of virile, extraordinarily handsome, muscle-bound him.
And she was a fan.
Okay, a big fan. She’d been to his concerts and had all his albums on her iPod and his calendar hanging on the kitchen wall.
Yeah, she was a big fan.
He looked up, his aquamarine eyes noticing her standing there. “You’re the physio?” Alex Jackson’s gaze met hers.
Oh God. Even his voice was divine in real life as she imagined it would be. Its smoothness floated across her skin making the tiny hairs sway like palm trees in a gentle breeze.
His arm waved in front of her face. “Hello?” His divine voice interrupted visions of her and him sipping fruity cocktails under the shade of coconut trees.
Her skin warmed or perhaps the heating had been cranked up? The room was as hot as the desert during the day. Wiping her damp palms against the dark cargo pants she favoured for work gave her an excuse to hide any awkwardness. Clearing her throat she said, “Yes.”
“My physio is…unavailable, so I had the hotel doctor look at my ankle, he thinks it’s fractured. But he seems used to dealing with sniffles, tummy bugs, and other traveller’s misfortunes. Not this.” His teeth gritted as he pointed to his foot. He blew out air from his lungs in exasperation. His usually impeccably straight hair was tussled and a lock of dark hair flopped over his forehead. He pushed it to the side before it fell back again. “You need to look at it.”