Blog number 9 – December 21, 2019
Hey Hawks, and Happy Holidaze!
Here’s hoping everyone out there rocks a super-fantastic next couple of weeks— enjoying friends and family, counting their myriad blessings, and surviving what can often morph into a big cluster-you-know-what of utter insanity.
For JC despises the materialistic madness! You won’t find this lady within twenty thousand feet of no shopping mall, post office, or big box store no way, no how. Nosiree Bob; low key is for me. A few Tom and Jerry’s with my troops at the local dive bar, a relaxing din-din with a few close couples, snuggling up with a steamy, scintillating read at the end of the day…
Wait a sec. Did I hear “scintillating read”?
Waaaaal, I hope ya’ll know that my first book is (at last) out there on the web: waiting to be plucked up by your greedy little fingers and any other lovers of spicy romance you are kind enough to share it with!
I’ll admit to being pretty dang jazzed by the rave reviews Need It, Bad has been receiving the past week, and by the encouraging numbers my marketing team are relaying for a first-time debut. Let me tell you it’s downright thrilling to know my raunchy and humorous efforts are being lapped up in Denmark, Great Britain, Australia, and Mexico, even as we speak.
Sure do hope all those lusty ladies far and wide adore the mighty Tommy Branson as much as I adored creating his fine ass!
Hmm… Wonder how Hunk O’ Fuck translates in Danish? Now there’s some food for thought for ya…
Anyhoo, it’s been kind of a whirlwind since my release, but don’t think that chaos has slowed my dirty little mind down any. Nuh, uh. Quite the opposite, as a matter of facto.
Hawkies, JC is pleased to report, on orders given, she has just completed a short and not-so-sweet “prequel novella” to Need It, Bad: a tantalizing tale delving deep into the despondent and recently-dumped psyches of Tommy Branson and his seriously smokin’ wingmen Gash Gannon and Axel Jameson—the droolworthy heroes of the next two books in the Breakaleg Trilogy, respectively.
(Gash and Tansy: Need It, Worse. February 2020)
(Axel and Iris: Need It, Worse than Bad. April 2020)
Three Busted Hearts is in final editing, and will be offered in its entirety as a complimentary teaser to help “cast” (pardon the pun) JC’s net ever wider. Yes, you heard right: this fascinating six-chapter intro into the “Why the hell did my baby leave me” male mind will be a flaming-hot freebie, designed to introduce this trio of tormented buddies and their fascinating backstories to need-to-know readers.
Sounds pretty cool, yeah?
The announcement of that release will be shortly forthcoming; details to follow in the next Jaye Hawk Report. So stay tuned, sisters!
I’m giving you eager beavers one tiny taste here, as a wee stocking stuffer…
“Go away, you big jerk! You took total advantage, and you know it! I do not want to see you, understand? I mean it, so leave me alone! Go, go, go!”
I stood frozen on Bebe’s wrecked stoop with a big bunch of roses in my mitt, blinking at her crappy, peeling front door.
Huh? Wha? Took advantage?
After a short panicky stutter, my heart began to bang in my chest, same as before, with hot excitement and heady anticipation.
She had to be kidding right? Joking? Teasing me with that saucy humor of hers? Hell, no way could the little goddess mean it, not after that mind-melting, mega make-out session on my big, dark porch last night, her mouth so wide-open and sweet…
Grinning widely, I adjusted myself and tapped again, knuckles beating out a jaunty rat-a-tat-tat. Obviously, the beauteous blogger of all things old-house-related was into some inventive game-playing. I licked my lips, balls swelling.
Fine with me, babe. Whatever your sexy heart desires is A-okay with—
Bebe’s husky voice rose from the depths of her money pit mansion, her usually flirtatious tones loaded with undiluted fury.
“Are you dense? I said, go. GO! We are finished, mister!”
Intrigued? Wait for it!
Well, that’ll do ʼer for now, Hawks. I got me a buncha presents to wrap, which by the way I seriously, seriously suck at. I mean, does anybody else out there get more Scotch tape on themselves than on the damned wrapping paper? Or leave that tiny, maddening sliver of gift exposed on the bottom every single time because you DON’T FRIGGING KNOW HOW TO PROPERLY MEASURE AND CUT?
See, told you… This holiday sha-zit can be downright insane.
Hey, what time is it? I think I need me a Tom and Jerry.
Click here to grab a copy or two of Need It, Bad
As ever, check out these sites and spread the word:
Over and out for now. Keep the faith, friends.
In humor, lust, ‘n’ love,