Out Sept 13th – the first book in the New Adult College Romance series: New Wave Newsroom
Follow the tour and enter to #win a $20.00 Amazon GC and 1980’s themed adult coloring book!
Make sure to watch for books two and three coming this fall! Entries from all tours will be eligible for an additional grand prize!
Series: New Wave Newsroom #1
Author: Jenny Holiday
Genre: New Adult Romance
Release Date: September 13, 2016
Length: 35k words
Digital ISBN: 978-0-9950927-1-6
Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9950927-0-9
Jenny Fields is a crusader. The editor of her college newspaper, she never met a cause she couldn’t get behind. So when the administration announces it’s tearing down the historic art building, she’s on the case All she needs to do is get Matthew Townsend, the art department’s boy wonder, on board. They say he his talent is unbounded. It turns out so is his ego.
Matthew Townsend cares about art. And that’s pretty much it. If he has a reputation for being moody and aloof, that suits him just fine. He doesn’t have a family worth speaking of, and as a scholarship student, he can’t afford to goof off like the preppy rich kids at his school. He certainly doesn’t care about the art building. Or about the relentlessly perky Jenny, who looks like she was barfed up by Rainbow Brite. What will it take to the preternaturally cheerful girl with the massive savior complex to leave him alone?
Available at: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks
What 80s themed music inspired The Fixer?
The Fixer had its first life as part of an anthology I was invited to participate in called 80s Mix Tape: Romance Rewind. Each author was supposed to contribute a story inspired by a song from the decade. Well, being a child of the 80s myself (yes, I rocked some serious bangs back in the day), that was not an opportunity I could pass up, so I immediately agreed. But I was having trouble deciding on a song. I was talking to my agent one day on the phone, and she jokingly said, “Well, of course you have to do 867-5309.”
Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner! I knew it immediately.
If you’re not familiar with the song, it’s actually called “Jenny/867-5309” and it’s by Tommy Tutone. The singer is in love with a girl named Jenny, whose number he saw on the wall. (If you’re not a lady of a certain age, this might not make sense: in what was probably a precursor to internet trolling, gross boys used to write the phone numbers of girls they thought were slutty on walls in bathrooms and such. As we would’ve said back in the day: gag me with a spoon.)
I admit I did have a moment where I thought, “Is it dumb to write a book where the heroine has the same name as I do?” I’m not sure if I ever settled that question, but once that song was floating around in my mind, I couldn’t let go of it. I still remember the astonishing feeling, when my agent suggested the song, of the story snapping together in my mind, like a pile of puzzle pieces instantly assembled. I was walking in the drizzle as we were talking, and I think I actually did a little dance of joy. It was perfect: in addition to the obvious plot the song suggested, a song about a phone seemed very 1980s. After all, calling was the only way to reach people back then, short of going to see them in person. The fact that the heroine has her own phone in her dorm room becomes kind of a thing in the book, for example, leading the hero to conclude that she’s a rich snob.
So that’s the story of The Fixer! Interestingly, it was the only book of the series that went that direction: song first, story second. I arrived at the songs that “belong” to the other two books more organically—by thinking of the characters and what they were going to go through and letting that lead me to a song. But not Jenny! She came pre-assembled!
It was a chaste kiss, on the surface of things. It was just her lips against my cheek, and her hands rested in her lap, for fuck’s sake. But, just like the other night, at the construction site, it was like she was filling me with lava. It ran down my throat, swirled around my chest, and then settled in my dick, where it burned hot and fierce.
She pulled away, but only slightly. “Thank you for this,” she whispered. See? This was what nice girls did. They said thank you. Then they gave you a kiss on your rough cheek.
Though she’d moved back enough to speak, she hadn’t returned to sitting upright on the bed. She stayed leaning forward, listing toward me, bracing her hands on her thighs.
I let my gaze slide over a bare neck that would make Degas weep. Across pale, unblemished shoulders. The bodice of her dress went straight across, a horizontal ruffle making a dramatic line between white skin and brilliant blue dress. It hadn’t, earlier, been showing much in the way of cleavage, but now that she was leaning forward, it had the effect of creating a gap between the ruffle and her breasts.
I couldn’t stop looking at that gap. Why didn’t she just move back? She had her cartoon. She’d deposited her perfunctory kiss. We were done here.
“I don’t want to graduate a virgin,” she whispered.
A jolt shot through my body. I could feel each rib painfully expanding as I sucked in a breath and brought my eyes up to look into hers. In contrast to the tentative tone of her last sentence, those eyes were fierce, glittering, determined. Those were the eyes of the investigative journalist she would become.
“I have a sponge in my bag,” she added, her voice catching a little.
“Oh, Rainbow Brite,” I said, though it came out sounding more like a groan. I let my head fall to my chest. I couldn’t look at her anymore. The room should have been silent then, but I swear, the blood in my ears was like thunder.
She might have spoken and I hadn’t heard her, because the next thing that happened was she moved her hands from her thighs to mine. She just laid them there, but it was nearly enough to make me black out.
I flinched. I was startled, turned on, wary…everything. Everything all at once.
“I’m sorry,” she said, snatching her hands away.
No. The protest probably started with my dick, to be honest, but it rose up through my chest and down through my legs simultaneously, spreading until it swirled throughout my whole body, propelling me toward her.
I wasn’t going to be the reason Jenny Fields was sorry.
I was also done being a goddamned monk.
More books from the New Wave Newsroom coming this fall!
The Gossip: coming Oct 4, 2016:
Pre-Order from: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks
The Pacifist: coming Oct 25, 2015:
Pre-Order from: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks
Jenny Holiday started writing at age nine when her awesome fourth grade teacher gave her a notebook and told her to start writing some stories. That first batch featured mass murderers on the loose, alien invasions, and hauntings. (Looking back, she’s amazed no one sent her to a kid-shrink.) She’s been writing ever since. After a brief detour to get a PhD in geography, she worked as a professional writer, producing everything from speeches to magazine articles. More recently, her tastes having evolved from alien invasions to happily-ever-afters, she tried her hand at romance. A lifelong city-lover, she lives in Toronto, Canada, with her family. She is represented by Courtney Miller-Callihan of Greenburger Associates.
You can visit her online at the following places: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon