Guest blog post: Julia Kent “Erotica to New Adult romance”

I was pleased to have Julia Kent do a guest post about switching genres. Julia is a USA Today bestseller and the author of the popular New Adult romance “Random Acts of Crazy“. She’s here today to talk about crossing the genre barrier, and how being known in one genre doesn’t necessarily mean you’re pigeon-holed forever within that one niche.

Aside from the incredibly hot sex scenes and tension so taut you could string a guitar with it, what do erotica and New Adult romance have in common? Writers like Jacinda Wilder and Mimi Strong crossed over from one genre to the other, and so have I. Plenty of other erotic romance and erotica writers are in the process of that same journey, and the reason is easy to explain: because it’s seamless.

Erotica focuses on the main character’s sexual journey. “Journey” is key here – the character or characters have to explore what their own sexuality means to them in the context of their exploration of life. In the end, the sexual unfolding gives meaning to part or all of their life, and forces them to grow in new ways.

How perfect for New Adult! If you ask 20 authors, 20 agents, and 20 editors at traditional publishing companies to define “New Adult,” you’ll get 60 different answers.

Ask readers and you’ll get one answer: “I know it when I see it – and when it’s good, it’s perfect!” You define the genre now. Readers are eagerly reading books like H.M. Ward’s Damaged, Tara Brown’s My Side, my own Random Acts of Crazy, Raine Thomas’s Everly, Katy Evans’ Real, pretty much everything Abbi Glines writes – and so much more. Maybe it’s because it’s summer and the Kindle is easier to grab when time demands lighten up. Perhaps it’s the amazing covers.

Or maybe it’s because we are so enthralled with the journey that new adults face when their first major life decision stares back at them.

There’s that journey element again. In every New Adult novel you read, the main characters face a conflict centered around their first, major, independent decision. No parents to make the decision for them. Oh, the parents might try – and sometimes that’s the theme of New Adult books. Breaking away from parents.

In my books, Random Acts of Crazy (and the next in the series, Random Acts of Trust), the men are all from very controlling families in a wealthy upper middle-class suburb of Boston. Breaking away from “hover parents” and forging a strong, independent identity is key, all while falling in love with a woman who is about as different from the women back home as Remy (from Real) is from Christian Grey.

We are captivated by stories and by the never-ending process of growth. Characters stumble, make poor decisions, go through loads of internal angst and anxiety, and find themselves unmoored and unsure – just like in real life. And then they get out of their own way, feel the fear and take risks anyhow, make themselves vulnerable and hope for the best, and go into the world a little jaded but also more aware of who they are and what they deserve.

It’s all about the journey.

*~*~*

Julia’s bestselling New Adult “Random Acts of Crazy” is available online by ebook or paperback! I’d love to see this very talented (and super sweet!) lady go as far as she can, and personally can’t wait until the sequel!
Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | iTunes

 

Surprise! Look who’s coming home for dinner!

…wait, huh?!

And thus, we somehow managed to welcome a new pup into our household.

Even now, I’m still a little bit shocked by how fast it all happened. Who is this tiger-striped shadow that won’t leave my side?!

I’ve been spoiled these last few years by a wonderful, if very codependent, small dog, so the sudden arrival of a giant (not housebroken, over-excited, BIG appetite, uncouth) puppy has me a tad twitchy. No more so than Dixie, who’s no longer queen of the roost and has to *gasp!* compete for attention! Oh, the insanity!!!

Mommy save me!!

I’m laying on the floor tonight in protest!

…okay so the bed is safer than the ground. But I’m not cuddling, no way! …okay maybe a little.

All of my dogs have been rescues, but never quite in this way. Exuberance aside though, he’s a great dog – he found his way quickly into my heart. He likes to lay behind me in the office, content to stay close. The minute I stand up however, it’s PLAY TIME!!

Heh, the Dude’s a little jealous, Dingo likes me better.

Not that I’m gloating or anything.

 

Snippet Saturday … finally!

Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated!

I apologize for no snippet last weekend, it was a tough weekend in that I had no new material that was, well, all that interesting. But this week has been much better in the writing department, and I figured I’d (finally!) share a little bit from Castaway 3. Hope you enjoy it! (Facebookers, you’ve probably already read this bit.)

Excerpt:

He swallowed. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?” he murmured, pushing back the hair that was plastered to my face.

Lifting my shoulder slightly off the ground, I finally levered my hand up to touch his face. “You’ll never be able to forgive me.” My eyes closed as my hand fell back to my chest. “I’ll never be able to forgive me.”

“No.” But I saw the truth in his eyes. My actions lay like an abyss between us, and I doubted either of us would ever be able, or willing to bridge it.

Foreign chatter surrounded me, and Jeremiah’s grip on my body tightened. I looked up to see his gaze darting at several points, but I didn’t take my eyes off him. “You deserve better,” I murmured, and saw his stricken gaze fall back to me.

My strength had returned enough to push away from him, but I couldn’t make myself do it. In his arms, I was safe for the first time in what felt like forever. My brain told me I needed to let go, leave and get on with my life, but my heart wasn’t ready.

I doubted it would ever be.

 

Have I told you lately…

…that you guys are awesome? ❤❤❤ Seriously, I love you all SO DARNED MUCH!!! How did I get such an awesome bunch of readers? *mwah!*

 

The “myth” of writer’s block…

I never used to believe in “writer’s block.” Part of me still doesn’t want to think it exists, that its something we writers have to power through. There have been times in the past where a story has been difficult for me, where I didn’t know what happened next. I rarely had a deadline or readers waiting, it was just me and the characters trying to figure out what adventure they’d find next. I could take as much time as I wanted to figure it out, and invariably I did.

I’ve always written. My mother still has “books” I made from preschool about dinosaurs and horses and other fun stuff. Being able to make up stories, bring to life interesting characters and situations, was something I loved, something I wanted to do for a living. Several months ago, I was finally able to get that dream, quitting my day job to focus solely on my craft. I thought it would be smooth sailing from here on out, doing something I loved so much.

The last month has shown me otherwise.

Many of you have reached out wondering where I am, what I’m doing, what the status is on various projects. I skipped a Snippet Saturday this week with no explanation, which is unfair to you all. The truth is, whether you want to call it writer’s block or burnout or whatever other name applies, I’ve had a heck of a time writing ANYTHING for the last month.

There. I said it. I can’t write.

It’s a vicious cycle. My brain is shouting at me to write, that I can’t let the readers down or miss my commitments. When I freeze up, the guilt builds into this hard lump in my chest that makes it hard to breathe. Eventually, the very thought of writing ANYTHING, a blog post or tweet or Facebook reply, gives the same result. I mean, if I can write those, then why aren’t I writing something ELSE right? Like that story I have due out, oh, yesterday.

It’s debilitating, and has brought me to a complete standstill over the last month.

My writer friends call it burnout, and apparently it’s common among authors. At times, it almost feels like a panic attack: I think of opening the file on my computer and my chest tightens, breathing gets hard, and my hands shake. No joke, although I wish it was. A lot of folks have noticed the progress bar hasn’t moved much; initially this was because I goofed on a major plot hole and required some time/help to figure it out. The Dude was invaluable here (he gets that James Bond, action-movie kinda thing), but once I got that situated… *sigh*

So here’s me coming clean and apologizing to all of you waiting for the latest AHW installment. This month has been hectic and filled with other things, such as the Romantic Times Readers Convention (which I still need to write up), celebrating the Dude’s birthday (love you, Dorkface), and most recently a camping/riding trip of awesome. I’ve been trying to cram as much life as I can into a short space in order to get past this problem – do a bunch of stuff that is not writing so when I return its not as hard. Several friends have given me exercises to do that helped them punch through this wall and that’s what I’m going to start today.

But I wanted to say I’m so sorry for the delay and hate that I’ve let you guys down. :-/

 

Real world blues 2.0

The house hunt for a true Casa de Fawkes continues. Those of you who follow on Twitter and Facebook probably already heard that the second house we were looking at (and one in which we both were rather invested in, against our better judgment) was snatched away in what became a bidding war. Right now we’re determined to find a place of our own and stop paying rent, but it seems everything we find with the right qualifications (outside of town, large lot/acreage, decent house) is getting snatched up by someone else before we can get there or has other problems. We’re looking at something new again (this one’s a bit different than the others), and all I can say is hopefully the third time’s the charm. *crosses toes/finger/eyes*

It also doesn’t help that “Castaway 3″ is giving me conniptions. I did something for this part that I don’t usually do: outlined the crap out of it so that I wouldn’t get stuck. And yet, guess where I am now? You guessed it – despite knowing the exact progression of every scene, I canNOT make myself write this. It’s frustrating; the spirit is willing, but it’s as though I have a mental block preventing me from doing this part. Normally I’m a total pantser, the kind of writer who figures things out as I go. I think my deviation from that is part of my problem, but it’s too late now. Writing every story is a different experience, and while part 3 is just one more part of the same book, my brain and fingers refuse to cooperate. Couple this with the feeling that I’m letting people down (especially after THAT cliffhanger), and I’ve been a little down lately.

Next week is the Romantic Times Convention in Kansas City, MO. I’ve spent the last week or so getting ready, but I’d really hoped to have C3 done by the time I left. That doesn’t look like it’ll be the case, so I’ll be working during the convention as well. That doesn’t mean I’m not excited to go however!! I’m curious, are any of you going to be attending? This will be the first RT con I’ve attended (second romance con technically, but the first time I’m actually participating as an author) and I’m excited and NERVOUS!!! It may not always seem like this, but I’m a total introvert – crowds make me a wee bit frazzled, and as I’m going to be in the signing and meetup areas interacting with readers, I’m a silly combination of EEK and SQUEE and OMGFREAKINGOUT!

I’ll definitely post all about it as the time comes. Should be a lot of fun, I had a blast last year at RWA in Anaheim and look forward to meeting anybody! Look for a wild-eyed redhead who looks ready to bolt, and come say hi!

 

Snippet Saturday

Alright, for all of you folks lamenting no AHW updates last week, and for the people wondering how on earth can this relationship be salvaged….this one’s for you.

*~*~*

“Where is she?”

I fell back a step as Jeremiah’s voice boomed from the entrance to the suite. Amyrah threw me a panicked look then said something to the guards beside her, who raced toward the sound of scuffling. I stood, frozen, as the sounds grew closer.

“Dammit, I know you’re in here. Lucy!”

My chest constricted at his voice, but I stood rooted to the spot. From across the hallway, I saw the familiar figure of Jeremiah appear, then suddenly several other figures appeared around him. A “Look out!” died on my lips as he quietly and efficiently took them down, and I knew the moment he spotted me because he sprinted the length of the corridor.

More figures appeared from openings on either side of the hall, and Amyrah tugged me back into her large bedroom. Before the door could close however, it was jammed open by a large arm, then Jeremiah pulled himself into the room. He dragged the two men attached to him into the open area and managed to fling one away by sheer brute force but was taken down as more guards streamed through the doorway.

No. I didn’t want this. Why was he even here? “Please, please don’t hurt him,” I moaned, moving forward, but Amyrah grabbed my wrist and held me back. Two men held each arm in an iron grip, and as Jeremiah lifted his head to look at me, I saw my own pain and anguish reflected in his eyes. Then another bodyguard moved forward, a small black object in his hand, and I realized what was about to happen.

“Don’t hurt him!” Wrenching my arm out of Amyrah’s hold, I launched myself at the guard holding the taser. Grabbing his arm, I spun him around and away from Jeremiah.

Then, like someone flipped a switch, every muscle in my body went rigid. My fingers dug into the other man’s arm as my body bowed back. A silent scream formed across my lips but nothing would come out but a guttural exhale as my spasming diaphragm pushed the last of the air from my lungs. Aftershocks continued throughout my body, my muscles no longer under any voluntary control. It felt like an eternity but lasted barely a second; the horrible jolt flipped off and I collapsed bonelessly to the floor.

From somewhere nearby I heard a roaring noise. At first I thought it was just an aftereffect of the taser until I heard a man’s pained cry, but I couldn’t do anything but stare at the wall in front of me. Then hands pulled at me, lifting me off the ground and back around so that I was staring up into Jeremiah’s face.

 

Snippet Sunday!

It’s time for another Snippet Sunday post! …wait, it’s supposed to be done on Saturday? Huh, knew I forgot something!

“Castaway 3″ is slowly coming along, but unfortunately there’s little to post yet. I figured I could do another brief pre-book story about the Hamilton boys but, while its not AHW related, I do have some new material. Wanna see it?

Facebookers and Twitterites might recognize part of this from a screencap I uploaded, but in case you missed it here’s a scene from my as yet untitled (or rather, poorly-titled-so-far *g* ) New Adult romance.

*~*~*

Setting: coastal Mississippi, early summer. Lacey St. James hasn’t had a very happy life the last four years, but when she meets Everett Ward, things start looking up. Of course, the road back to a normal life isn’t going to be easy…

“So what’s the plan for the rest of the day?” he asked between bites.

“I need to go pick up my little brother from school in an hour, so I should probably head home to pick up my mom’s car.”

“Why don’t you have a car? Wouldn’t it be easier?”

“Well,” I hedged, then looked out at his ratty mode of transportation. He’d probably understand better than most. “Right now my vehicle isn’t working all that well.”

“Vehicle? Way to be cryptic.”

I just grinned. “She’s my pride and joy, but right now she’s up on blocks.”

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“Dunno, you ever rebuild a transmission?”

“No, but Trent’s brother Matt can.”

I mulled that information over. Riding a bike was getting old; I could only go so far, and being stuck in such a small area was beginning to chafe. “Yeah, see how much he’ll charge,” I said finally, sliding out of the booth. “It’s an old C4 tranny, shouldn’t be too hard.”

“I’ll ask. So, tomorrow then?”

“Four o’clock tomorrow sound okay?”

“Cool beans. I’ll pick you up.”

“No, I’d rather…”

Everett held up a hand. “You can at least meet me out where I dropped you off before, can’t you?”

He had a point. “Alright, then I’ll see you tomorrow.” A warm feeling spread through my body and I fought against a silly grin as we walked back to his car.

That pleasure lasted after he dropped me off at my bike and the whole ride home, right up until I realized my mom’s car wasn’t at the house. Leaning my bike against the side of the stairway, I hurried up the steps and checked the house, but she wasn’t there either. It was ten minutes to three when I got home, still more than early enough to pick up my little brother.

But I had no car.

I tried to call her cell but it was turned off. The thought of calling my grandmother didn’t sit well; I’d automatically be made to blame. I thought perhaps my mother was just out running errands and had forgotten the time. Annoyed at my own helplessness, I passed the time by picking up beer bottles strewn across the living room as I waited for her to get home.

At five minutes after three, I called the daycare office. The lady who answered was kind enough to go check to see if my little brother was still there.

“No, his teacher said his mother picked him up,” she said when she finally got on the phone. I thanked her profusely and paced the length of the trailer, continually checking the clock until I finally heard the car pull into the driveway.

“I thought I was supposed to pick him up,” I said as she unbuckled Davey from his car seat.

“You weren’t here,” she said, a belligerent note in her voice. “I tried calling you and kept getting some error message.”

I hadn’t given her my new number yet. Shit. “I’m sorry mama, I changed it two days ago.”

She gave me a dirty look. “Goddamn, irresponsible… I didn’t raise you to be this fucking lazy, Lacey May.”

God I hated it when she was drunk. She never would have talked like that to me before Ben died; I’d never once heard her cuss in fact until we moved back down here. Resentment burned in my gut. “I was here ten minutes beforehand,” I persisted as I followed her into the house. “Where did you go?”

“Had to get cigarettes.”

“Mama.” I gave an exasperated sigh. “You know you shouldn’t drive when you’ve been drinking.”

“You made me do it,” she muttered darkly, setting my brother on the ground. “If you had been here when you were supposed to…”

“Mama, you said you went to get cigarettes. You were driving drunk even though I…”

Crack!

My head whipped around and I stumbled sideways. I turned to look at my mother, shocked to my core. No matter how bad things had been, my mother had never laid her hand on me before.

I stood there stunned, holding my cheek, as my mother stared back at me. To her credit, she looked as astonished as I was, but I didn’t care. Part of me wanted desperately to hit her back, make her feel the pain that was tearing me apart.

“Sissy?”

Davey was watching us, his blue eyes round as saucer plates. Tears sprang to my eyes as I realized he’d witnessed the whole thing, but I had no idea what to say. Raged enveloped me, but I couldn’t make myself move.

My mother looked between us, her eyes still wide, then she turned to my brother. “What do you want for dinner, honey?” she said in a shaky voice, ignoring me completely.

That was the final straw.

I knew where my mother kept her stash of liquor. She wasn’t very creative with hiding it, and I’d raided it before. Sure enough, she had several bottles in various sizes of tequila and vodka in the small cabinet under the kitchen sink.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Grabbing the smaller bottle of vodka, I ignored her and checked the contents. The clear liquid was to the top and didn’t appear to be open.

“Lacey May!”

I rounded on her. “Fuck you,” I whispered, and was pleased by the shock I saw in her eyes. I’d never said those words to her before, never cursed at my mama. She’d been the one person I thought I could rely on in this house.

No more.

Without another word, I turned and stomped out of the trailer, slamming the door behind me. I picked up my bike and, stuffing the thin bottle in the back of my shorts, I took off down the street.

I had no idea where I was going, but when I got to the beaches, I threw down my bike on edge of the sand, and walked out to the water. Plopping my butt next to the pier, I unscrewed the top to the bottle and tipped it back, letting the burning liquid make its way down my throat.

***

 

“Anything He Wants: Castaway #2″ is LIVE!

Can I just say that self-publishing is awesome? It’s awesome to be able to get a story out a week earlier than planned, kind of a nice bonus for folks who’ve been keeping track and hoping for an early release.

Tensions escalate in the second part of the new “Anything He Wants: Castaway” series!

Reunited with Jeremiah, Lucy is forced to come to grips with the decisions she’s made in his absence. The billionaire is as insufferable as ever, but just as determined to protect Lucy. From the Caribbean seas of Jamaica to the man-made islands of Dubai, they must travel halfway across the world to find out who is trying to bring down the Hamilton family.

But it may be the woman who comes between them that tears the two brothers apart forever. And can Lucy bear to live with the consequences of her actions?

*~*

Available at the following retailers:
Amazon US | Amazon UK | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | Apple iBooks

ALSO, I’m super excited to say that right after part two appears up for sale *cue eye roll*, Apple iTunes also finally released the FIRST part of “Anything He Wants: Castaway”!!! So for all you iBooks users out there, the new series is fully available!!

 

Snippet Sunday

Well, this weekend has been…interesting. And not in the nice way. But it’s almost over, and I’m horribly overdue for some snippets, for which I apologize.

Since I was late this week, I’ve decided to add a few snippets extra. You deserve something more for having to wait, after all.

*~*~*~*~*

“I’m ready to go home.”

Amyrah nodded. “We’ll be back at the hotel in a couple hours.”

The hotel wasn’t the home I’d meant. I wanted, more than anything, to go back to who I was before, back to the life I’d lived before I even heard of Jeremiah Hamilton. My existence may not have been easy then, but the simplicity and straightforwardness of my situation had been easier to bear.

Now, I felt as trapped as I had when Jeremiah had offered me that contract.

“Is everything okay?”

Shaking my head, I gave Amyrah a small smile. “I’m just tired.” I followed her into the vehicle, wondering what adventures lay ahead of me now.

And finding that I couldn’t bring myself to care.

**

“Did I ever have a chance with you?”

I closed my eyes briefly, unsure how to respond. As much as I wanted to forget, or rather go back and change, my choice to turn to him for comfort, it had happened. Lucas had, whether I wanted to admit it or not, given me the comfort and safety I’d needed. He deserved an answer, but I couldn’t begin to process the question, not now. Not here.

**

(snippet from the bonus story)
“Do you know what she said to me in the car?” he said after a minute. “That you’d broken her heart. I believe she also said you called her emotions “platitudes”, which didn’t seem to go over well.”

The conversation was obviously not what Jeremiah wanted to talk about. “She signed a contract,” he said before biting off his words.

“You made her sign a contract?” This was news to Lucas, and touched off a fire inside him. “What did it say, that you got to do whatever you wanted?”

Jeremiah said nothing, but Lucas had spent years reading his baby brother. The truth was written all over his silence. “My god, you turned that poor girl into your whore.”

“Don’t you call her that,” Jeremiah roared, and managed to wrench one arm free. He lunged at Lucas, only to be brought up short by the second man’s grip. Then Kolya appeared between the two brothers, wrestling Jeremiah back into submission.

Lucas stood there, shaking in rage. His hands curled into fists as he stared down at his little brother. “You make me sick,” he spat. The urge to beat the man before him was overwhelming. Remembering everything Lucy had told him, her reaction when Jeremiah had appeared, their kiss. Lucas had seen the love in the girl’s eyes, her fear of Lucas when she thought he would shoot Jeremiah. Struggling to control himself, Lucas took a step back. “You don’t deserve her.”

“Why do you fucking care anyway?”

Why indeed. “Because we’ve ruined enough lives in our time.” Anya’s face flashed through his mind. “I’ll be damned if I let anyone else suffer because of us.”

**

And a tiny preview of something else I’ve been cooking up while I waited for AHW7 edits.