Cover Reveal: The Blackmail of Evelynn Faust by Shirley Anne Edwards

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The Blackmail of Evelynn Faust

Shirley Anne Edwards

YA Contemporary w/Romantic Elements, 73k

Evelynn Faust suffers from horrible insomnia and paranoia. The summer before her senior year of high school should be one of the best summers of her life. But she’s tormented by guilt and an addiction that haunts her every waking moment. Evelynn is a drug dealer who also craves the drug she sells. The money and the popularity that come with it aren’t bad either. But when she’s caught dealing on school property by Eric Wagner, the respected and admired police chief’s son, the game is over.

He won’t snitch on her, unless she gives him whatever he wants - her.

She’s being blackmailed.

Evelynn has no one to turn to for help. Not her parents who don’t understand her rebellious nature or her circle of friends who only care about partying and getting high. When Adam Tristen moves in across the street, and he wants to get to know her better, it all seems too good to be true.

She must make a pact with the devil.

Evelynn now looks over her shoulder wherever she goes, waiting for Eric to act on his threats. But Adam, the charming college sophomore, sees something special inside Evelynn, and he wants to help her fix mistakes. In order to do that she must confront a dark secret from her past that could destroy her family…her life…and her entire world as she knows it.

She must take a leap of faith.

Releasing on May 25th !!

 

Pre-edit Excerpt: 

The Blackmail of Evelynn Faust by Shirley Anne Edwards. Evelynn reveals one of her dark secrets to Adam…

“How was your party?”

            “You should have come. A lot of people crashed it.” I held the metal chains and twisted left and right.

            He swung back and forth as I twisted. “Maybe if someone asked me to be their date, I would have then.” He swung slightly to the side and bumped my hip with his.

            “Wouldn’t have been a good idea.”

            “Why not?” Again he tapped his hip to mine.

            “Adam, I’m not dating or girlfriend material. I’m just looking for a warm body to use so I can forget about life for a while. I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s the truth.”

            He stopped rocking and reached over to take my hand. I moved my arm away, but he wouldn’t let me, and linked his fingers with mine. “For some reason I can’t leave you alone, and even though you act like you only want me for sex, or whatever else, I don’t think that’s so. What I do think is that you have a lot on your mind and want to tell someone, but not sure how.”

            “What am I, your project for school? Trying to psychoanalyze me?”

            “No. I want to be your friend and help erase those shadows in your eyes. That’s all.”

            I looked right at his face, at this big brown eyed, caramel skinned boy…man who was too good for the likes of me. My stomach cramped because I was going to tell him one of my dark secrets. Why? It just felt right to do in this dark, wet morning surrounded by metal, and dirt and rocks where I once played, unaware of how horrible my life would become.

            “My shadows, as you say I have, weren’t always there. I guess it was a gradual thing starting when I was around thirteen. You think I’m something special, but I’m not. There’s not much to recommend about myself, other than I like jazz, jogging, actually love playing with my younger sister, and I enjoy…smoking up.”

            “Smoking up? Meaning something harder than cigarettes?”

            The look on his face was of surprise and not horror as I’d been expecting.

            “Yeah. I’ve been a big pot smoker ever since I was in eighth grade. I need to smoke every day. I think I’m an addict.”

            He stood up from his swing and bent down, grabbing both my hands in his. “At least you admit it. It’s the first step.”

            “I wish it was the easy. My habit is out of control. I’m stuck in a corner with no way out.”

            “What do you mean?” He gave me a tender smile. It made my chest constrict.

            I stood and my knee cracked. Holding back a grimace, I shook out my leg while I squeezed his hands. “A…friend, who wants to be more than that knows I’m using, and he caught me doing it at school. He’s threatening to tell my parents, unless I do what he wants. He’s more than willing to be that warm body I could use.” The need to tell Adam all the facts was strong, but I held back. Part of it was because I still felt leery of him. He may come across as a good guy who wanted to help, but he could always be like Eric underneath a great package.

            “Oh.” He let go of my hands and stepped back, rubbing his mouth. I saw the outline of a beard on his chin and cheeks. I longed to rub my fingers over his rough, bristled skin.

            “See the problem? I either give this guy what he wants, or tell him to get lost and hope for the best.”

            “I know you don’t want to tell your parents, but what would be the worst thing that would happen if you told them?”

            I scraped my shoe across the pebbled ground and put my hands back in my pockets. “It’s not as easy as it sounds. I…I can’t really explain why, but just take my word for it.”

            He didn’t look like he believed me. I swore my heart stopped beating for a second. “You’re not being totally honest with me.”

            Damn. “Adam, the situation is more complicated than I make it sound. If you know too much, it could get difficult for you. Plus, your brother is a high ranking official in town. If he found out because you slipped up or mentioned something to him, things on my end would go downhill and fast. I’m not the only one involved in this.”

            “You’re not only worried for yourself but the others you care about, right?”

            I nodded. “You could say that.”

            He gave me bright smile. “See, you’re not hopeless as you think you are. You’ve just proven to me you’re worth something because you care and don’t want those in your life to get hurt. Correct?”

            I scratched my ear. I wasn’t sure where he was going with this. “Yeah so? It still doesn’t help the situation I’m in.”

            “Well, not necessarily. But it’s a start. If you can trust me with this small piece of information, than you’ll eventually trust me enough to tell me the whole story.”

            I couldn’t hide me smile. His joy was too contagious. “We’ll see.”

            “Are you’re feeling better now?”

            I rocked my head side to side. “Maybe I’ll feel better if you give me another massage.”

            He pulled me to his chest and rubbed his scruffy chin on my forehead. “If I give you another one, will you open up to me some more?”

            “You want me to bare my soul.”

            “Just a little bit. Haven’t you heard absolution is good for the soul?”

            I titled up my face. “Sure you’re not studying to be a priest?”

             “I have no desire to enter the priesthood.” His mouth landed on mine, and his kiss proved that perfectly.

About the Author:

Shirley Anne Edwards is a Northeast girl who first found her love for books when she read Nancy Drew's The Secret of the Old Clock Tower at thirteen. Shirley found her love for writing at a very young age, and since then has let her imagination run wild by creating quirky characters and vast worlds in her head.

Shirley lives in New Jersey and works in the entertainment industry in New York City.

In the immortal words of Mark Twain: "Life is short, Break the Rules. Forgive quickly, Kiss SLOWLY. Love truly. Laugh uncontrollably and never regret ANYTHING that makes you smile."

For more information about Shirley and her writing journey:

Website link: http://shirlwriteredwards.wordpress.com/

Twitter: @ShirleyAWriter (link: https://twitter.com/ShirleyAWriter)

Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/shirley.edwards.31924)

Amazon author page:  http://www.amazon.com/Shirley-Anne-Edwards/e/B00N87EEAO/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1426708495&sr=8-1

        

Spicing Up Trouble with Mary Jo Burke & a #giveaway

Spicing Up Trouble

Mary Jo Burke

Contemporary Romance/Romantic Comedy

Gemma Halliday Publishing, 332 pages

Alexia Hale works as a test kitchen writer for the Chicago News. But she gets her big break toward reporting "real" news when she's given the opportunity to interview the world renowned artist, Benjamin Nance Cobb.

The catch: to get it, Alexia has to pose as a nude model for Ben. What begins as an awkward assignment quickly turns into a real friendship...and possibly more. But when a photograph of Alexia is leaked to the press, their private life suddenly becomes very public. Ben's father isn't pleased, Alexia's sisters are shocked, and now she's being hounded by the press.

Dating a celebrity has its challenges and rewards. The only question is, which one will outweigh the other?

 

Buy Links:

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Excerpt:

The Internet offered few details about Benjamin Nance Cobb's work. I needed to visit Chicago's Art Institute to do some research.

In the morning, out in front of the museum, I rubbed the paw of one of the lions. "Wish me luck," I whispered to the stoic predator and hurried up the stairs.

Once inside, I cheated and asked a docent to direct me to the Contemporary Art section. He pointed at a tour group, and I followed them. We entered a large foyer. The guide began to speak, and I saw my chance to escape.

Farther down the hall and to the left, two canvases took up an entire wall. First, a nude woman reclined on her back. Her lush black hair splayed on the pillow beneath her, her right hand laid in the tangles—eyes half closed, her lush lips pursed, her left hand limp against her side, her knees pulled together and slightly bent. Her whole body sated. She just had great sex. The plaque beside it read, "Satisfied by Benjamin Nance Cobb."

No doubt.

Next, a woman sitting on a bed, her back positioned toward the artist, the sway of her hip revealed the top of her butt, her arms and legs crossed in front of her, a hint of right breast showed, her face in profile, her eyes glanced over her shoulder, and her blonde hair mussed. I read the plaque, "Anticipation by Benjamin Nance Cobb."

How about Striptease for Benjamin Nance Cobb?

The paintings carried the same message: goddesses with an attitude. Power radiated from them. They owned the men who sought to possess them. Confident in their appearance and sexuality, the viewer of the portrait felt like an intruder, stumbling into the intimate setting. The discomfort was for the outsider looking in. I imagined being free not to care about others' opinions, living by one's own rules. Easier said than done.

A small blurb about the artist hung on the wall. I didn't get much passed his age, thirty-five, because next to it a photograph almost stopped my heart. The man himself glared at the camera. Not a posed shot, one stolen on the street by paparazzi. Black hair, ice blue eyes, nose and chin chiseled like a bust of a Roman god.

I stumbled away a little shaken by the portrait of the reaper of women.

Would I be released by my editor from this assignment? No. Would I gain the self-confidence required for public nudity in two days? Double no. Would my sisters ever let me forget I chickened out? Triple-dog no.

Not only my likeness would be captured, Cobb might prove capable of reaching down and finding my true self, ready to be exposed. Could this opportunity remake me into one of those women proudly displaying their attributes to the world? Was I willing to risk all for a taste of confidence like my sisters wore every day?

The new expressive me lay trapped inside the old mousy me. Where there was a will, there was a way, but no graceful way out.

I dodged my sisters' phone calls and focused all good karma on Wednesday. I arrived early for my exhibition; I mean appointment to a nondescript building with no sign or address, no names on the mailboxes. Subtle message, if you weren't invited, you shouldn't be here. I pressed the doorbell, heard footsteps coming to the door, and prayed I wouldn't faint.

The imposing oak door swung in, and the grail of my quest stood before me. The men of my dreams were book boyfriends. Men conjured up from another woman's imagination who yielded to her will. All were tall, muscular, ruggedly handsome, and smelled wonderful. Like them, this guy was all those myths come to life. Now I'd add a few revisions to include sparkling blue eyes enticing me to jump into those pools for a slow swim, full lips, and thighs like tree trunks. Forget breeders' hips, the sight of Benjamin Nance Cobb made my ovaries explode. He assessed me up and down then smiled. A slight dimple formed on his unshaven cheek. A kiss would fit perfectly on that indentation.

"I'm," he hesitated and stared at me.

He knew I was a fraud. Who would believe I was a model?

 "I'm sorry, I'm Ben Cobb," he said, pushing the door all the way open to the wall. "You must be from the agency."

"Yes, I'm the model."

Of what, I didn't know.

"You look familiar. Have you posed for print ads?" His cordial tone sounded as if he had just parked my car.

"No."

What if he asked to see some credentials or my portfolio? I should have taken Eleanor's crazy advice about head shots or shots to the head. Right now, I was a bit confused as my fear and flight impulses beat against my brain. As a result, I stayed put and proceeded in. I didn't dare speak again, my voice hid under the covers, waiting for me to come to my senses.

"The changing room is to the right, I mean your left. There's a robe in there on the wall. On a hook on the wall. No, it's on the door," he said as he scratched the back of his head. "I apologize. I'm sure you're a professional and can figure it out."

Professional fraud at the moment.

"No problem, I'll find it." I strolled down a hallway.

Was he upset or nervous? Did I scare him? He probably thought, "How am I supposed to work with her?" Should I apologize in advance?

 I found an open pink door. It was more of a renovated closet with a full-length mirror, an embroidered chair, and an ornate hook on the back of the door with a flimsy yellow robe attached.

I bit my lower lip as I began to undress. I tried to focus on why I put myself in this situation: a career boost and a chance to get in good with the new bosses. I forgot about impressing my sisters, they would be questioning my sanity about now.

Getting him to talk presented the ultimate challenge.

"So why do you paint nudes?"

"Do you pay them or do they pay you?"

"I'm a fan of your mom's work."

Helen Nance Cobb's books were special to me. They reminded me of my childhood before my parents died. Adele's Armoire, Benjamin's Bike, Celeste's Closet, and Daniel's Dugout were the first four books I could read by myself. Prose and illustrations represented all twenty-six letters.

A soft knock at the door brought me back to the present. I gripped the back of the chair.

"Is everything all right in there?" he asked.

"I'm coming."

If I shook anymore, I could make a smoothie. Yesterday I waxed, exfoliated, moisturized, and steamed myself. I wished I could pump up my courage too. Exhaling slowly, I opened the door to meet my new outlook on life or die trying.

The floor creaked as I ambled toward the easel where he stood, cleaning brushes.

"Where do you want me?" I asked as my fist clutched the robe shut.

He stared at me again. I must be the most hideous specimen to ever pose for him.

"When you're ready, take off the robe, and lay on your stomach on the pillows," he said, offering a slight smile.

I cautiously strolled over and sat on the floor with my back to the wall.

If a guy jumped out with a camera and yelled "Smile," I wouldn't be surprised. Being caught at the most embarrassing moment of my life made perfect sense right now.

 "How long have you been a model, Miss?" he asked, shifting the canvas on the easel.

"I'm Alexia Hale. I've been modeling for two years."

Did it sound believable? Should I have used a fake name?

"Only with Perkins?"

"Yes."

Who or what was Perkins?

"I'm surprised they didn't send you earlier. I've asked for a variety of women, especially without endowments. Sorry, I mean a woman with natural beauty."

"My works takes me out of the country."

My nose was about to go Pinocchio on me, and he noticed my breasts. My nipples hardened up and rubbed against the polyester blend. Traitors.

"Where?" he asked.

"Paris, Vienna, Stockholm, and Hawaii."

All the places I would love to visit.

"Busy girl. Photography or painting?"

"Both."

This one didn't count as a lie. I liked taking pictures, and I finger painted in kindergarten.

"Are you ready to start?" he asked.

I let the robe slide off of me and flopped on the pillows. He didn't flinch or move for three full minutes. He absorbed me into those piercing blue eyes.

"Excuse me," he said as he hurried away.

The sight of the nude me made him vomit. I stood, wrapped the robe around my shoulders, and sprinted toward the dressing room. I'd grab my clothes and dress on the sidewalk. He must be calling the agency to complain, and they would out me as a fraud.

He rounded the corner and almost knocked me to the floor. The robe swirled around my legs and landed in a puddle at my feet. My right arm went across my chest and my left hand fanned over my womanhood.

"Beautiful," he said under his breath as he swept my hair back behind my ear.

Me? I shivered from his touch. This was why the women looked enraptured in his paintings. They had sex with him before they posed. That would blow the wind in my sails, definitely a step out of character for me.

"Excuse me, I'm being totally unprofessional," he said as he leaned down, retrieved my robe, and handed it to me. "If you're uncomfortable staying and want to leave, I'll understand."

"No, I'm fine," I said as I fumbled with the robe, trying to put it on.

"Okay, let's get started."

I followed him back to the studio and pretended he didn't stir me up. I couldn't comment on my effect on him as I resettled by the pillows. The robe melted off me this time because I wanted him to see me.

"Please support yourself on your elbows," he said.

I stopped trembling, pushed up, and glanced at him.

"Like this, Mr. Cobb?" My voice squeaked.

"I'm Ben. Mr. Cobb is my worthless father," he swallowed hard, grabbed the back of his neck, and pressed down.

I touched a raw nerve.

"Look at me." he said. I only shifted my eyeballs, afraid to move anything else. "I'm going to tell you when to change your facial expressions like be happy, pensive, sleepy, or sad, understand?"

"Yes."

"Please follow my directions, and don't speak or move."

The artist had arrived and was all business. Time for me to do the same.

About the Author:

Long before DVDs, Mary Jo saw Gone with the Wind in the theater. She was ten. The story never left her. She read the book three times. She saw the movie every time it was re-released. GWTWwill be seventy-five years old this year and is her favorite movie. She would only make a minor change: Leave Ashley to Melanie and hold on tight to Rhett. Her writing sprung from reading, watching, and always wanting to edit.
Mary Jo was born in Chicago and has never strayed far from home. She majored in Accounting and received her MBA in Finance. She worked in the investment and banking businesses. 

Mary Jo is a member of the Romance Writers of America, Chicago North RWA, and Windy City RWA.

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