For many, this is also the season for Football. Some could even argue the two are synonymous. While I'm more of a "Go, tea--ooh, corndogs!" kind of fan, I tend to agree.
So what is a Romance Lover to do when the weather cools and Sunday/Monday/Thursday/Fantasy Night Football begins? I have good news! You can have your football and read it too with Jillian Jacobs’s O-Line Series. Book One, “Ember’s Center” even comes clothed in lovely fall-like colors. Her newest release, “Rachel’s Guard” had a darker, more brooding look, but both are thrilling reads. Filled with suspense, danger, unexpected love, and (you guessed it) hot football players. Yes, the Quarterback may get most of the action on the field, but Jillian’s O-Line guys get plenty of action in her books.
To celebrate the October 10th Release (which is tomorrow, in case you want to run out and get your copy) of “Rachel’s Guard,” Jillian let me poke around in her brain.
What is your inspiration behind the O-Line series? I've read a lot of Contemporary romance. (A lot is actually an understatement) Many of the sports stories center around the quarterback, and even in general news the story line of the pro-football player focuses on the guy throwing the ball. But my question was, What about all the other players? Why are they never highlighted or featured? So, the O-Line series was born. Plus my husband played, which gave me a great resource. I suppose a lot of the hero's in my stories have a bit of my hubby in them.
What would your super power be? The ability to chit chat. I'm horrid at small talk.
If you had to compare your writing style to a movie star (man or woman), who would it be? Can I compare to another author instead? I'd say I write a tad like Kat Martin and Julie Garwood. My romances are full of mystery and suspense. Not that I'm Martin or Garwood by any means, but those two come to mind, especially their Contemporary works.
When (if?) you have writer's block, what do you which helps move past it? I don't have writer's block. I have quiet time block. I can write if I sit down and have long stretches to get it done. It's the researching that holds me up. Right now I'm researching visual impairments and the Native American culture.
What is your favorite thing about being a writer? Honestly the friendships I've made so far. And the feeling I get when I write that one line that comes out just right. Or when someone says, you made me laugh, cry, angry. Evoking any emotion is a great feeling.
If you had a hot tub time machine, what would you do with it? I would go back and hang out with Elvis at the beginning of his career and then tour with Freddy Mercury from Queen.
“So, what’s the national emergency keeping you from your tropical vacation?”
He sighed and stretched his long legs out into the aisle. “These chairs are for tiny people.”
“Suit me fine.”
“Point made.” He waved a hand in her direction.
“Oh, good one, I’m short. Wow. Never had anyone tease me about that.” She bit into the brownie and moaned. “Oh my God, this is amazing. Orgasm by chocolate, the only way to die.” A sparkle hit his ridiculously blue eyes.
After gazing at her mouth for a moment, Bronco shook his head and licked his lips. “Not the only way to die. Especially if you’re doing it right.”
Pleased to see him emerging from his slump, she teased back, “Doing what right? Baking brownies?” She raised a brow while holding back a grin.
He laughed and rocked back in his chair, which lifted the spindly metal legs off the ground.
“Ooh, I get it. You meant sex. Like you’re good at sex.” She waved a hand at his crotch and rolled her eyes. “Kill me by orgasm. Too funny.”
“Listen, little sass-mouth, I’d have no problem proving I’m much more decadent than that brownie. And honey, you’d beg for a double batch.”
She sniffed and sipped a much-too-hot gulp of her coffee, telling herself the liquid’s heat was the reason for the fire shooting through her blood.
Bronco simply smirked.
Taking another bite of her brownie, she groaned again, as if lost in the throes of bliss. Two could play this flirtatious game.
He narrowed his eyes and shifted in the chair.
“I never beg.” Rachel shot him a cheeky wink, and then wiped her mouth with a napkin. “So, what do you need, OBC?”
“Orgasm by chocolate.”
“Cute.” He cleared his throat and stared at his shoes before glancing at his cell phone, which kept pinging.