PROMO & CHARACTER INTERVIEW~NO APOLOGIES By Sybil Bartel
No Apologies by Sybil Bartel
Published by: Carina Press (HQN)
Publication date: June 23rd 2014
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Never apologize
Hard-edged rocker Graham Allen has it all. He’s flush with cash from playing bass in a band by night and restoring classic cars by day. And there are plenty of women willing to share his bed for a night, complication-free. Perfect, because if there’s anything he learned from his past, it was to never get attached—to anything. So when bartender Carly Sullivan flashes her innocent smile, Graham isn’t prepared for what happens next.
Never fall in love
Two rules, that’s all Graham has—never apologize and never fall in love. He knows Carly is everything he should avoid. Cheerful and sweet, she has “relationship” written all over her. But Graham can’t stay away from her probing questions and concerned blue eyes.
When Graham discovers Carly is hiding a crushing secret, he’s prepared to risk it all. Until in one single moment, everything changes and Graham’s past threatens to collide with his future. His life is crumbling down around him, and soon no apology in the world can save him.
He should’ve known to walk away.
91,000 words
Carly opened the door, all smiles. “Missing something?”
Yeah, you. My relief at seeing her smile was instant but I gave her a hard time anyway. “There better not be a scratch on it.”
She shook her head. “Have a little faith.”
“You forget I’ve seen you drive.” Like a bat outta hell.
“Now I’m just insulted. C’mon up, I’ve got the key upstairs.”
I followed her, admiring the view.
“Want some coffee? I just made some.”
Her apartment smelled amazing, like cinnamon and fresh bread. I remembered I hadn’t eaten. “Yeah, sure. Smells good.” I followed her into the kitchen and looked out one of the windows. The Ducati was parked by a garage in back.
“I’m making muffins. They’ll be ready in ten minutes. Looking for the bike?”
“Checking to make sure it’s in one piece.”
“Would I destroy a machine like that? Jeez!” She looked affronted then busied herself getting coffee.
“I have no idea.” Women were capable of crazy shit.
She handed me a mug. “Well, I wouldn’t, but you might need a little gas.” She winked and set her small kitchen table for two.
“I don’t think I want to know where you went.”
I got her full-blown smile. “She opens up nicely on the highway.”
If I hadn’t seen her ride, I might’ve been having a heart attack right now. “Do you have any self-preservation?” I’d bet a month’s paycheck she didn’t go the speed limit.
Her face turned serious. “Lots, that’s why I was careful not to drop the bike.”
That statement, the look on her face, I couldn’t let it slide. I set the coffee on the counter and grabbed her hand. She flinched but I held tight and lowered my voice. “You think a bike’s more important than you?”
Interview with Graham Allen
“Hi! So excited, I’m here today with Graham Allen, the bass player for the band you all are waiting patiently for to go on, so I’ll be quick! Say Hi, Graham.” OMG, he’s so hot in person!
Graham~“Hey.”
“Yep, you heard it, that sexy-awesome voice.
Not that we don’t love Myles’ voice, but we looove when you sing as well. Will there be more songs you do lead locals on?”
Graham~“Possibly.”
“Okay, you heard it here first! So, tell me Graham, what’s your favorite song right now?”
Graham~“Humming Bird by Alex Clare.”
“Awww, that’s so sweet! I love that song. Does it remind you of someone?”
Graham~“Yes.”
“Care to elaborate?”
Graham~“No.”
Okay, he’s a little intimidating. I smile but he doesn’t smile back. “So, tell us something we don’t know about you.”
Graham~“I hate interviews.”
I laugh nervously. “I think I could’ve guessed that. I heard you’re a car fanatic. If you could drive any car, what would it be?”
Graham~“A Smart car,” he deadpans.
I blink. “Really?”
Graham~“No.”
I burst out laughing. “Good one. But seriously, what car would be your ideal ride?”
Graham~“The one I drive.”
“Which is?”
Graham~“71 ‘Cuda 440 6-pack.”
“You have a six pack?” I had to ask! He’s so muscular.
He crosses his arms and stares at me.
“Um, sorry. Okay, so what color is your car?”
Graham~“Black.”
Sexy. “What’s it like working with Myles?” That’s the lead singer and guitarist for all you newbies out there.
Graham~“Humbling.”
“Wow, that’s heavy.” Inspiration strikes. “What would Myles say it’s like working with you?”
“Irritating.” A ghost of a smile touches the corner of his mouth.
“You do that.” The smile, lazy, practiced, kicks up a notch and now I know I’m going to faint.
“Oh, that’s just not fair.”
His only answer is to hold the half smile of amusement and incline his head once like he knows exactly the effect he has on women.
“Okay, one more question, because I know you all are about to go on. Who’s been your single greatest influence, musically, or otherwise?” I hold my breath, because for some reason, I think he’s about to surprise the crap out of me.
“That’s a personal question.”
“It is.” I don’t blink.
He maintains eye contact.
I wait.
“I don’t answer personal questions. I protect the people who are close to me.”
Wow. So sweet. “I think I just fell in love.”
This time, the smile hits both sides of his face. “You’re too late, sweetheart.” Then he strides out of the room like he owns the place.
Sybil grew up in Northern California with her head in a book and her feet in the sand. She used to dream of becoming a painter but the heady scent of libraries with their shelves full of books about wistful summer days and first loves drew her into the world of storytelling. Her true literary love is the New Adult genre but really, any story about a love so desperately wrong and impossibly beautiful, makes her swoon.
Sybil now resides in Southern Florida and while she doesn't get to read as much as she likes, she still buries her toes in the sand. If she's not writing or fighting to contain the banana plantation in her backyard, you can find her spending time with her handsomely tattooed husband, her brilliantly practical son and a mischievous miniature boxer who stole her heart.
https://www.goodreads.com/
If I Had A Dollar by Sybil Bartel
If I had a dollar for all the times I failed as a writer, I would be rich. I wouldn’t be writing this post because I would be lounging on my yacht with my loaded Kindle and some really hot crew chartering our course to Tropical Happy Awesomeness (yep, that’s a real place).
Alas, sadly, I don’t. So—sigh—no hot crew members for me. But. And it’s a big but, I totally wouldn’t have this—this post I’m writing. Or the near to my heart story that comes out June 23rd. Or the other manuscripts in my cue, or all the amazing people I’ve met along the way.
There are a lot of things I can say about writing, and about how many times you fail before you finally get something right. And I will tell you, I am surprised by all of them. But mostly I am surprised by the people you meet along the way. This isn’t a cut throat business, this isn’t a competitive professional sports team, this isn’t a water cooler gossip fest (well, okay maybe just a little bit of gossip). It’s a world of nice people who genuinely want to help you with any knowledge they can impart.
If I had a dollar for all the less than satisfactory jobs I’ve ever had, it wouldn’t get me that yacht, but it’d buy me a plane ticket to Tropical Happy Awesomeness. (It’s a real place, you know.) And when I got there? I’m pretty sure Tropical Happy Awesomeness would not have as many great people as the world of writing does.
So, I’m glad I don’t have a dollar for all the times I’ve failed at something in my life. I would much rather have the experiences and the friends I’ve met along the way. They say writing is a solitary existence, and it can be. (I so love to live in my own head!) But writing is a gift. A gift I would not appreciate or love as much as I do without all the failed attempts and perseverance. Because when you do finally succeed? And trust me on this, if you persevere you totally will, the victory is oh so sweet. So I will gladly trade all those dollars and that yacht and those hot crew men. You go on ahead to Tropical Happy Awesomeness without me. I’m just gonna stay here and write.
Comments
Post a Comment