Brenda Janowitz's Blog, page 2
May 11, 2014
A Mother's Day treat! A sneak peek of RUIN ME by Jamie Brenner!
Happy Mother's Day! I'm so thrilled today because we've got one of my favorite authors here, the fabulous. She's giving us a sneak peek of her latest novel,. I'm a huge fan of Jamie's work-- I talked about her fabulousnovel,, this past February, and now with RUIN ME, she's got another smart, sexy page turner on her hands.
I know thatthe second you read this excerpt, you are going to hop online and order your copy of RUIN ME-- I'm about 1/3 of the way through and it's beyond fabulous-- but, before you do that, let's hear from Jamie first!
THE MOTHER'S DAY DIVIDEby Jamie Brenner
Hallmark doesn’t make a Mother’s Day card that reads, “Thanks for being so controlling! In my rebellion, I fell in love in love with someone completely inappropriate � but totally hot.�
I’m thinking maybe they should � because a lot of us have been there.
In a perfect world, mothers are wise creatures who guide us by love and example. And in this perfect world, daughters only emulate their and make them proud. But in reality, we often have to distance ourselves from our mothers to define ourselves, even if just temporarily. Who hasn’t pushed back against a curfew, a dress code, disapproval over a boyfriend? Ideally, these are temporary hiccups. But in some cases, mothers and daughters are so opposite, the divide defines their entire relationship.
In RUIN ME, my heroine needs to step out of the long shadow of her famous mother. Anna Sterling is a powerful art dealer who expects her daughter to follow in her footsteps, and Lulu, a senior at NYU, has her own ideas about art � and life. When Lulu finds her passion and ideas embodied in a mysterious, bad-boy street artist known as GoST, things get dicey. (See above-mentioned Hallmark card).
As I celebrate Mother’s Day, I think about my own bumps in the road � the ones that are behind me, and the ones that are ahead now that I’m on the other side of the fence. Judging from my teenage daughter, I expect I’ll have fodder for at least another book or two on this subject. Maybe more.
RUIN MEby Jamie Brenner
Chapter 1There’s a thing that happens at these art gallery parties filled with the beautiful people. Everyone orbits the room pretending not to look at the one person they all want to notice them. They pretend that her glance isn’t the ultimate prize.
I’ve been playing this game my entire life.
The owner of New York’s most prestigious art gallery, she is a pale-skinned, willowy brunette, wears dark-red matte lipstick, and is dressed in all white. There are several ropes of pearls around her neck and a cigarette in her hand—even now, when no one smokes in public anymore. She’s like a living photo from the past, Coco Chanel or Dovima. She is timeless but perfectly of this moment. Elegant, powerful, elusive.
She’s my mother.
“You should stand closer to him so you get in some of the photos,� she says to me so quickly and quietly no one else would have heard.
I immediately cross the room. I’m a junior at NYU, an art major, and girlfriend of one of the hottest up-and-coming painters in New York. But around my mother, I’m still the six-year-old who ignored her warning never to use the scissors without her permission, only to cut my own bangs and ruin my hair for a year.
Hoping to satisfy her, I stand closer to my boyfriend, Brandt. It’s not even his night, but he looks like the star. And in three months, he will be: It will be his paintings on the walls, his sound bites the journalists and bloggers want. But for now,New Yorkmagazine just wants a photo of us together for their party section.
“I’m going to get some fresh air,� I whisper to him, uncomfortable with the attention. It’s late, close to midnight by now. He looks at me, his blue eyes shiny, his cheeks flushed from excitement and wine. He is talking to the showing artist, Dustin McBride, whom my mother just poached from Vito Schnabel’s gallery.
A few months ago, Dustin wouldn’t have given Brandt the time of day. But now Brandt is part of the club. Not just an “emerging� artist but one about to have his first one-man show with Anna Sterling.
“I’ll go with you,� Brandt says, but I know he doesn’t mean it. He’s high from all the attention, buzzing with it. Hovering close by is Inez Elliot, my mother’s trusted gallery director and probably the coolest girl I know. She has pale coco skin and bleached blond hair offset by dark eyebrows—Rita Ora on steroids. I smile at her; she looks away.
Other women are circling—the art groupies, the hipster writer fromThe Times, and even the new “it� girl model with her heart-shaped lips, pink-edged blond hair, and stud in her nostril. Brandt drinks it all in. He was made for this.
“I’ll be right back,� I tell him.
Outside, I gasp with relief when I feel the humid June air. The streets of SoHo feel like they are running on different oxygen than the freezing gallery. For the first time in hours, my goose bumps disappear.
This wasn’t how my summer was supposed to go, I thought while crossing Greene Street. I’d wanted to be spending this week packing for a trip to Spain with my roommate, Niffer. We’d spent months planning our trip and even knew where we would eat dinner our first night—Els Pescadors, for tapas. It’s where Niffer met her boyfriend, Claudio, last summer. He still works there.
Now Niffer is going without me, thanks to my mother.
I inhale the summer air greedily and walk slowly down West Houston Street in my impractical shoes and sheath dress. The initial elation of escaping the party turns sour as I start to perspire. I’m exhausted.
I always imagined working at the gallery alongside my mother. Dreamed of it, actually. I knew it was my future. But now that she wants me to start this summer, it feels all too soon.
But, I can’t say no to my mother—I never have. And now I’m paying the price for it. Keeping up with her breakneck work ethic is going consume the next two months of my life, as it has consumed all of hers. She only took time off from the gallery twice in twenty-five years: when I was born, and then six months later, when my father killed himself.
My phone vibrates in my dangly, beaded vintage clutch. A part of me dares to hope that it’s Brandt, saying that he wants to get some air, too. “Let’s get pizza,� or more likely, “Let’s fuck.�
I pull the phone out. It’s my mother. “Where are you? Richard wants a quote from you.�
“From me?� Richard is the art critic forThe New York Times.
“Yes, Lulu.�
“I’m outside. I just needed some fresh air. I’ll be back in a minute.�
I dutifully turn to head back to the gallery. And that’s when, out of the corner of my eye, I see something.
I look up. Sure enough, on the side of a building, ten stories above the street, a man dangles from a harness. One arm is perfectly still, the other is waving in sharp, methodical sweeping motions. He is holding a stencil in one hand, spray-painting with the other.
I watch, rooted in place, mesmerized as swaths of paint start to form an image. It’s a dark-haired woman. The spray can leaves a trail of colors to form a blue shirt with capped sleeves and a long yellow skirt. The woman’s body appears to wilt, her arm falling to her side. I take in the image from top to bottom. It’s Snow White. She’s beautiful, vulnerable, falling into the legendary sleep that will only be broken by her prince.
He moves quickly, now painting near Snow White’s limp hand. His body blocks my view. Finally, he pushes back on his feet, moving away from the painting. It is now complete, with a poisoned apple dropping from her limp hand.
But it’s not just any apple—it’s the tech company logo.
I gasp. It’s the most exciting piece of art I’ve seen all night, and it’s on the side of a building.
Suddenly, the can of spray paint falls from his hand. It seems to happen in slow motion, tumbling over and over, until it hits the sidewalk with a tinny crash.
The noise attracts other people, and a small crowd gathers at the base of the building. People are pointing. And then, nearby, the wail of a police siren.
But he is not finished yet. With quick, efficient circular motions of his arm, he claims the painting, tagging the piece with the name GoST. And I realize I am witnessing the artist whose brilliant, politically-edged stencil paintings have been popping up all over walls and billboards in SoHo and the Village. A thrill runs through me.
And just like that, he is gone.
Copyright©2014 by Jamie Brenner
About the author:
Jamie Brenner is the author of THE GIN LOVERS, chosen by Fresh Fiction as one of their Top 13 Books to Read in 2013. Jamie also writes erotic fiction under the name Logan Belle. Her debut novel, BLUE ANGEL, was the first in an erotic trilogy published by Kensington, followed by the erotic romances NOW OR NEVER, THE LIBRARIAN and MISS CHATTERLEY. Her novels have been translated into a dozen languages. She lives in Manhattan, blogs for Romance at Random and Heroes & Heartbreakers, and is busy raising two daughters who aren't allowed to read her books. To read more or contact her, visit jamiebrenner.com or follow her @jamieLbrenner
I know thatthe second you read this excerpt, you are going to hop online and order your copy of RUIN ME-- I'm about 1/3 of the way through and it's beyond fabulous-- but, before you do that, let's hear from Jamie first!
THE MOTHER'S DAY DIVIDEby Jamie Brenner
Hallmark doesn’t make a Mother’s Day card that reads, “Thanks for being so controlling! In my rebellion, I fell in love in love with someone completely inappropriate � but totally hot.�
I’m thinking maybe they should � because a lot of us have been there.
In a perfect world, mothers are wise creatures who guide us by love and example. And in this perfect world, daughters only emulate their and make them proud. But in reality, we often have to distance ourselves from our mothers to define ourselves, even if just temporarily. Who hasn’t pushed back against a curfew, a dress code, disapproval over a boyfriend? Ideally, these are temporary hiccups. But in some cases, mothers and daughters are so opposite, the divide defines their entire relationship.
In RUIN ME, my heroine needs to step out of the long shadow of her famous mother. Anna Sterling is a powerful art dealer who expects her daughter to follow in her footsteps, and Lulu, a senior at NYU, has her own ideas about art � and life. When Lulu finds her passion and ideas embodied in a mysterious, bad-boy street artist known as GoST, things get dicey. (See above-mentioned Hallmark card).
As I celebrate Mother’s Day, I think about my own bumps in the road � the ones that are behind me, and the ones that are ahead now that I’m on the other side of the fence. Judging from my teenage daughter, I expect I’ll have fodder for at least another book or two on this subject. Maybe more.
RUIN MEby Jamie Brenner
Chapter 1There’s a thing that happens at these art gallery parties filled with the beautiful people. Everyone orbits the room pretending not to look at the one person they all want to notice them. They pretend that her glance isn’t the ultimate prize.
I’ve been playing this game my entire life.
The owner of New York’s most prestigious art gallery, she is a pale-skinned, willowy brunette, wears dark-red matte lipstick, and is dressed in all white. There are several ropes of pearls around her neck and a cigarette in her hand—even now, when no one smokes in public anymore. She’s like a living photo from the past, Coco Chanel or Dovima. She is timeless but perfectly of this moment. Elegant, powerful, elusive.
She’s my mother.
“You should stand closer to him so you get in some of the photos,� she says to me so quickly and quietly no one else would have heard.
I immediately cross the room. I’m a junior at NYU, an art major, and girlfriend of one of the hottest up-and-coming painters in New York. But around my mother, I’m still the six-year-old who ignored her warning never to use the scissors without her permission, only to cut my own bangs and ruin my hair for a year.
Hoping to satisfy her, I stand closer to my boyfriend, Brandt. It’s not even his night, but he looks like the star. And in three months, he will be: It will be his paintings on the walls, his sound bites the journalists and bloggers want. But for now,New Yorkmagazine just wants a photo of us together for their party section.
“I’m going to get some fresh air,� I whisper to him, uncomfortable with the attention. It’s late, close to midnight by now. He looks at me, his blue eyes shiny, his cheeks flushed from excitement and wine. He is talking to the showing artist, Dustin McBride, whom my mother just poached from Vito Schnabel’s gallery.
A few months ago, Dustin wouldn’t have given Brandt the time of day. But now Brandt is part of the club. Not just an “emerging� artist but one about to have his first one-man show with Anna Sterling.
“I’ll go with you,� Brandt says, but I know he doesn’t mean it. He’s high from all the attention, buzzing with it. Hovering close by is Inez Elliot, my mother’s trusted gallery director and probably the coolest girl I know. She has pale coco skin and bleached blond hair offset by dark eyebrows—Rita Ora on steroids. I smile at her; she looks away.
Other women are circling—the art groupies, the hipster writer fromThe Times, and even the new “it� girl model with her heart-shaped lips, pink-edged blond hair, and stud in her nostril. Brandt drinks it all in. He was made for this.
“I’ll be right back,� I tell him.
Outside, I gasp with relief when I feel the humid June air. The streets of SoHo feel like they are running on different oxygen than the freezing gallery. For the first time in hours, my goose bumps disappear.
This wasn’t how my summer was supposed to go, I thought while crossing Greene Street. I’d wanted to be spending this week packing for a trip to Spain with my roommate, Niffer. We’d spent months planning our trip and even knew where we would eat dinner our first night—Els Pescadors, for tapas. It’s where Niffer met her boyfriend, Claudio, last summer. He still works there.
Now Niffer is going without me, thanks to my mother.
I inhale the summer air greedily and walk slowly down West Houston Street in my impractical shoes and sheath dress. The initial elation of escaping the party turns sour as I start to perspire. I’m exhausted.
I always imagined working at the gallery alongside my mother. Dreamed of it, actually. I knew it was my future. But now that she wants me to start this summer, it feels all too soon.
But, I can’t say no to my mother—I never have. And now I’m paying the price for it. Keeping up with her breakneck work ethic is going consume the next two months of my life, as it has consumed all of hers. She only took time off from the gallery twice in twenty-five years: when I was born, and then six months later, when my father killed himself.
My phone vibrates in my dangly, beaded vintage clutch. A part of me dares to hope that it’s Brandt, saying that he wants to get some air, too. “Let’s get pizza,� or more likely, “Let’s fuck.�
I pull the phone out. It’s my mother. “Where are you? Richard wants a quote from you.�
“From me?� Richard is the art critic forThe New York Times.
“Yes, Lulu.�
“I’m outside. I just needed some fresh air. I’ll be back in a minute.�
I dutifully turn to head back to the gallery. And that’s when, out of the corner of my eye, I see something.
I look up. Sure enough, on the side of a building, ten stories above the street, a man dangles from a harness. One arm is perfectly still, the other is waving in sharp, methodical sweeping motions. He is holding a stencil in one hand, spray-painting with the other.
I watch, rooted in place, mesmerized as swaths of paint start to form an image. It’s a dark-haired woman. The spray can leaves a trail of colors to form a blue shirt with capped sleeves and a long yellow skirt. The woman’s body appears to wilt, her arm falling to her side. I take in the image from top to bottom. It’s Snow White. She’s beautiful, vulnerable, falling into the legendary sleep that will only be broken by her prince.
He moves quickly, now painting near Snow White’s limp hand. His body blocks my view. Finally, he pushes back on his feet, moving away from the painting. It is now complete, with a poisoned apple dropping from her limp hand.
But it’s not just any apple—it’s the tech company logo.
I gasp. It’s the most exciting piece of art I’ve seen all night, and it’s on the side of a building.
Suddenly, the can of spray paint falls from his hand. It seems to happen in slow motion, tumbling over and over, until it hits the sidewalk with a tinny crash.
The noise attracts other people, and a small crowd gathers at the base of the building. People are pointing. And then, nearby, the wail of a police siren.
But he is not finished yet. With quick, efficient circular motions of his arm, he claims the painting, tagging the piece with the name GoST. And I realize I am witnessing the artist whose brilliant, politically-edged stencil paintings have been popping up all over walls and billboards in SoHo and the Village. A thrill runs through me.
And just like that, he is gone.
Copyright©2014 by Jamie Brenner
About the author:
Jamie Brenner is the author of THE GIN LOVERS, chosen by Fresh Fiction as one of their Top 13 Books to Read in 2013. Jamie also writes erotic fiction under the name Logan Belle. Her debut novel, BLUE ANGEL, was the first in an erotic trilogy published by Kensington, followed by the erotic romances NOW OR NEVER, THE LIBRARIAN and MISS CHATTERLEY. Her novels have been translated into a dozen languages. She lives in Manhattan, blogs for Romance at Random and Heroes & Heartbreakers, and is busy raising two daughters who aren't allowed to read her books. To read more or contact her, visit jamiebrenner.com or follow her @jamieLbrenner
May 6, 2014
THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB is out today!
It's here! It's finally here!!
My fourth novel, THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB, is out today! This novel is the product of years and years of work. I really hope you'll check it out. It's available on all your favorite e-readers:
Dz:
Barnes &Noble:
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My fourth novel, THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB, is out today! This novel is the product of years and years of work. I really hope you'll check it out. It's available on all your favorite e-readers:
Dz:
Barnes &Noble:
Dz:
Ǵǰ:
April 24, 2014
Pre-order my fourth novel, THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB, and get a free copy of SCOT ON THE ROCKS, my first novel!�
Because who doesn't love getting free books?!I'm absolutely thrilled to announce thatPolis Books will be publishing my fourth novel on May 6th (just two weeks away!): . And to celebrate, we're giving away free copies of my first novel, to everyone who pre-orders a copy of LONELY HEARTS. How do you get your free copy of SCOT? Just email the receipt of your LONELY HEARTS pre-order purchase to brendajanowitz[at]gmail[dot]com and we'll send you an e-book of SCOT!THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB is the story of Jo Waldman, a young singer/songwriter whose personal and professional life have hit rock bottom... until a blog post she writes goes viral, making her the poster girl for an "anti-love" movement that sweeps Manhattan.Jason Pinter says: "Romantics--and those who've come thisclose to giving up on love--will gobble this up."And give a listen to THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB playlist, a compilation of songs that inspired the novel. The book is available for pre-order at all of your favorite retailers:
I hope you'll check it out! And help me spread the word-- mentions on Facebook and Twitter, and even emails to friends, are invaluable and will earn you my undying love and affection. (You don't need to send me a receipt for that, you'll just know that I will love you forever and ever.) xoxo, brenda
April 7, 2014
Let's get international!
Well, this is exciting. I was invited to participate in an international blog hop! I was tagged by the amazing . !!
I've done these blog hops before-- they're always a ton of fun, but this one seems different. International!! I feel like I should be sipping a cappuccino on the Left Bank as I write it. But alas, still plain old me. So, on to the questions! Ahem, the international questions! (Sounds way more chi-chi when you put it that way.)
What am I working on?
I just finished a New Adult novel called . It will be published on May 6th, and I can't wait!
It's the story of Jo Waldman, a young singer-songwriter who inadvertently creates an anti-love movement that sweeps Manhattan.
How does my work differ from others of its genre?
My books are funny, smart, and have a ton of heart. But the truth is, I like to think that those are the hallmarks of my genre, women's fiction, too. It's what I write, but it's also what I read.
Why do I write what I do?
I've always loved stories that were fun and relatable, the sorts of books that really make you feel something. The best writing advice I ever got was: write the book you want to read.
How does my writing process work?
I wish I had some great answer here, about how I sit down on the Left Bank with a cappuccino and the words just flow, but I don't. (Man, I have seriously got to get myself to Paris!)
I've always been one of those writers who write in the spaces between, whenever there's time. And I still do that now. I just write wherever and whenever there's time. Sometimes I outline, sometimes I just free write. The only thing that's constant is this: that I always sit down and do it.
Tag, you're it! That's how these things work. I'm tagging some totally fabulous authors who you should check out when they do their posts on April 14th:
I recently met the wonderful at the Polis Books launch party. I read the first chapter of his debut crime novel, , and I was hooked. You will be, too.
I also met the fabulous at the Polis Books launch party. (It was a really, really good party.) Dave's the author of the awesome Jackson Donne PI novels. and when you read it, you'll agree!
The amazing author extraordinaire, and now founder of , will also get in on the game. Jason's done it all-- , he's edited them, and now he's got his own publishing house. Want to hear all about his latest venture? It's pretty amazing.
And then, last, but definitely not least, comes the marvelous . I loved her last book, , so much that I blurbed it! But you need to read her romantic stories for yourself. One warning: set aside time for them. They are total page-turners that you won't be able to put down.
I've done these blog hops before-- they're always a ton of fun, but this one seems different. International!! I feel like I should be sipping a cappuccino on the Left Bank as I write it. But alas, still plain old me. So, on to the questions! Ahem, the international questions! (Sounds way more chi-chi when you put it that way.)
What am I working on?
I just finished a New Adult novel called . It will be published on May 6th, and I can't wait!
It's the story of Jo Waldman, a young singer-songwriter who inadvertently creates an anti-love movement that sweeps Manhattan.
How does my work differ from others of its genre?
My books are funny, smart, and have a ton of heart. But the truth is, I like to think that those are the hallmarks of my genre, women's fiction, too. It's what I write, but it's also what I read.
Why do I write what I do?
I've always loved stories that were fun and relatable, the sorts of books that really make you feel something. The best writing advice I ever got was: write the book you want to read.
How does my writing process work?
I wish I had some great answer here, about how I sit down on the Left Bank with a cappuccino and the words just flow, but I don't. (Man, I have seriously got to get myself to Paris!)
I've always been one of those writers who write in the spaces between, whenever there's time. And I still do that now. I just write wherever and whenever there's time. Sometimes I outline, sometimes I just free write. The only thing that's constant is this: that I always sit down and do it.
Tag, you're it! That's how these things work. I'm tagging some totally fabulous authors who you should check out when they do their posts on April 14th:
I recently met the wonderful at the Polis Books launch party. I read the first chapter of his debut crime novel, , and I was hooked. You will be, too.
I also met the fabulous at the Polis Books launch party. (It was a really, really good party.) Dave's the author of the awesome Jackson Donne PI novels. and when you read it, you'll agree!
The amazing author extraordinaire, and now founder of , will also get in on the game. Jason's done it all-- , he's edited them, and now he's got his own publishing house. Want to hear all about his latest venture? It's pretty amazing.
And then, last, but definitely not least, comes the marvelous . I loved her last book, , so much that I blurbed it! But you need to read her romantic stories for yourself. One warning: set aside time for them. They are total page-turners that you won't be able to put down.
February 14, 2014
Happy Valentine's Day!
Who doesn't love a little romance on Valentine's Day? I'm a sucker for chocolate, hearts and all things St. Valentine. But by far, my favorite thing for Valentine's Day is a great read. Today I've got three for you:by,by, and a sneak peek of my latest,.
THE GIN LOVERS by Jamie Brenner
Oh, how I lovedby Jamie Brenner. And I knew that I would from the killer first sentence—“It’s the party of the year, and it’s a funeral.� The writing is amazing, the story, sexy and fast-paced, and it's filled with drama and smart period details.
THE GIN LOVERStells the story of Manhattan socialite Charlotte Delacorte. Living in the height of Prohibition and the rise of the jazz age, she wouldn’t know it, with her controlling husband and high society expectations. When her wild sister in law comes to live with her after the death of her mother in law, Charlotte is introduced to the world of jazz clubs, speakeasies and a sexy, mysterious stranger.
The beauty of THE GIN LOVERS is that you can read it in any way you want. It's available to read two different ways; you can either enjoy it piece by piece in six parts as theor devour it. So far everyone I've recommended this book to has absolutely LOVED it, and I know that you will, too!
THE WIDOW'S GUIDE TO SEX AND DATING by Carole Radziwill
You may know Carole Radziwill from the Real Housewives of New York City, or you may know her from her moving memoir,, but now you have a whole new way to love all things Carole: her debut novel!
I couldn't get enough of. I devoured it in two days. Impossibly sexy, and incredibly stylish, this is the perfect read for Valentine's Day.
When Claire Byrne's older, very famous husband dies in a freak accident (struck down by a falling Giacometti!), she finds herself in a role she'd never imagined before: widow. Untethered from her secure Manhattan life, Claire must reinvent herself and embark on a new life. One where her own writing ambitions aren't overshadowed by her famous husband's career, one where she can carve out her own place in Manhattan, and one where she may even find something that's always eluded her: true love.
Funny and oozing with charm, THE WIDOW'S GUIDE TO SEX AND DATING is a must read. It comes out this Tuesday, February 11, just in time for V-Day!
THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB
And while we're on the subject of Valentine's Day, I'm finishing up edits on my latest novel, THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB. It's the story of a woman who, after a few too many lonely vodka tonics on Valentine's Day, inadvertently starts an anti-love movement.
Some of you may remember this as myWell, now the fabulous peeps at, and THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB will be making its e-book debut on your e-readers in just a few months. But since it's Valentine's Day, I thought I'd offer a little treat. A sneak peek at THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB. Enjoy!
Chapter 12: Owner of a Lonely HeartValentine’s Day. February fourteenth. A day of love and romance and frills and doilies. A day filled with chocolate in heart shaped boxes and all things pink and red.
Valentine’s Day is the day on which lovers freely express their passion for each other by sending flowers, candies, and insipid love notes. Lots of love notes. According to the Greeting Card Association, approximately onebillionvalentines are sent every year, making it the biggest card giving holiday besides Christmas.
Dozens of red roses are sent on this day and hundreds of couples get engaged.Radio stations play love songs and bakeries bake heart shaped cookies.February fourteenth is a day dedicated entirely to the pursuit of love.
It’s also the day that five of Al Capone’s men gunned down seven members of Bugs Moran’s gang with Tommy guns in a garage on Chicago’s North Side in 1929.But people usually don’t send cards for that.
It being Valentine’s Day and me being alone, I do what any respectable single woman who’s utterly alone would do—I open a bottle of Stoli and order in some fried food from my local Italian place.
“That’ll be $32.15,� the hostess says after she’s tallied up my dinner delivery order.
“But I get the same thing every time,� I say, pouring my first vodka tonic of the evening.I pour way too much vodka into the glass, making it stronger than I intend it to be, but I’m not exactly drinking it for the taste this evening.“Isn’t it $18 and change?�
“Oh,� she says, “Yeah, normally it is, but there’s an extra charge on all of the menu items for Valentine’s Day.�
“What?”� I say, since I must have misheard her. There’s no way in hell that this girl just told me that even though I was ordering in for one, she was charging me extra because it’s Valentine’s Day. In fact, since I’m ordering for one and it’s Valentine’s Day, shouldn’t I actually get adiscountinstead of a price increase? The whole situation really brings out my Irish. Being a Jewish girl from Long Island, I don’t really have much Irish in me, but it brings it out nonetheless.
“Oh,� she says, “I was just saying that there’s an extra charge on all of the menu items for Valentine’s Day.�
“But, I ordered for one,� I say, pacing around my kitchen with my glass as I speak, “Clearly I’m alone and it’s Valentine’s Day.�
“Yeah,� she says, “I know, it’s just that there’s an extra charge on all of the menu items for Valentine’s Day.�
“I heard you,� I say. I take a big gulp of vodka.
“Okay, so, then it should be there in about 20 minutes,� she says, trying to get me off the phone.
“I ordered for one.”�
Dead silence on the line.
“I’d like to speak to a manager,� I say, polishing off my first glass in just one large gulp.
“Um, okay,� she says, “hold on.�
“Hi there,� the manager’s cheery voice announces, as I’m pouring vodka tonic number two. To call this one a vodka tonic would be a bit of a misnomer. Glass number two is more like a vodka with a splash of tonic. “I’m Greg. I’m the manager here.�
“Hi, Greg,� I say as I sit at the kitchen counter and swirl the glass to mix my drink, “I understand that it’s Valentine’s Day and that means that you have to gauge the eyes out of all the lovesick puppies that come into your restaurant tonight. I would do the exact same thing, Greg. The same thing. I mean, fuck them, okay? Fuck ‘em, Greg. But, I am home—alone—ordering for one. Howdareyou charge me extra for my goddamned Caesar salad and chicken parm. Tonight of all nights. I mean, what the fuck, Greg? What the fuck?�
“You are absolutely right, miss,� manager Greg says to me as I down the second glass of vodka, “I’m so sorry.�
My Caesar salad and chicken parm arrive hot on my doorstep twenty minutes later, and the delivery guy presents me with the bill. I glance at the bill, ready to pay, but then I notice something. It’s not a bill for the usual amount—it’s a bill for the jacked up Valentine’s Day price.
“I’m not paying this,� I say, handing back the bill to the delivery guy.
“Um,� he says, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Whaddya mean?�
“I mean you can tell Manager Greg to go fuck himself,� I say.
“Um, wait? What?�
I hand the delivery guy a tip. “This is for you. You can tell Manager Greg I’m not paying for this. If he has a problem with that, he can come up here himself.”� I grab the bag of food just before I slam the door.
I barely even taste the chicken parm. Minutes later, I realize that I must have eaten—the take-out container’s empty—but it’s like I didn’t even have a bite. Anger coursing through my veins, my face getting hotter by the second, barely processing a thought. Just seeing red. Blinding red. I look down at the take-out container and realize I’m still hungry.
But I don’t want to eat. I want to rage.
Put it into a song,I tell myself,Get it out with your music.
But the words don’t come.There’s no structure, no rhyme or reason—I just want to scream at the top of my lungs for a while.To blow off the steam.
A tear comes to my eye as I think about everything that’s happened to me in the past few months.All the things that I’ve lost, all the things that were totally out of my control.The job, the guy, the freelance gig, the wedding.
The guy.My eyes burn as I force the tears back, refuse to let them out.
I look at my computer across the room, its black cursor against the pale white screen flashing in the dark.Talking to me.Beckoning to me.Write.Get it all out.
So I do.
THE GIN LOVERS by Jamie Brenner
Oh, how I lovedby Jamie Brenner. And I knew that I would from the killer first sentence—“It’s the party of the year, and it’s a funeral.� The writing is amazing, the story, sexy and fast-paced, and it's filled with drama and smart period details.
THE GIN LOVERStells the story of Manhattan socialite Charlotte Delacorte. Living in the height of Prohibition and the rise of the jazz age, she wouldn’t know it, with her controlling husband and high society expectations. When her wild sister in law comes to live with her after the death of her mother in law, Charlotte is introduced to the world of jazz clubs, speakeasies and a sexy, mysterious stranger.
The beauty of THE GIN LOVERS is that you can read it in any way you want. It's available to read two different ways; you can either enjoy it piece by piece in six parts as theor devour it. So far everyone I've recommended this book to has absolutely LOVED it, and I know that you will, too!
THE WIDOW'S GUIDE TO SEX AND DATING by Carole Radziwill
You may know Carole Radziwill from the Real Housewives of New York City, or you may know her from her moving memoir,, but now you have a whole new way to love all things Carole: her debut novel!
I couldn't get enough of. I devoured it in two days. Impossibly sexy, and incredibly stylish, this is the perfect read for Valentine's Day.
When Claire Byrne's older, very famous husband dies in a freak accident (struck down by a falling Giacometti!), she finds herself in a role she'd never imagined before: widow. Untethered from her secure Manhattan life, Claire must reinvent herself and embark on a new life. One where her own writing ambitions aren't overshadowed by her famous husband's career, one where she can carve out her own place in Manhattan, and one where she may even find something that's always eluded her: true love.
Funny and oozing with charm, THE WIDOW'S GUIDE TO SEX AND DATING is a must read. It comes out this Tuesday, February 11, just in time for V-Day!
THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB
And while we're on the subject of Valentine's Day, I'm finishing up edits on my latest novel, THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB. It's the story of a woman who, after a few too many lonely vodka tonics on Valentine's Day, inadvertently starts an anti-love movement.
Some of you may remember this as myWell, now the fabulous peeps at, and THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB will be making its e-book debut on your e-readers in just a few months. But since it's Valentine's Day, I thought I'd offer a little treat. A sneak peek at THE LONELY HEARTS CLUB. Enjoy!
Chapter 12: Owner of a Lonely HeartValentine’s Day. February fourteenth. A day of love and romance and frills and doilies. A day filled with chocolate in heart shaped boxes and all things pink and red.
Valentine’s Day is the day on which lovers freely express their passion for each other by sending flowers, candies, and insipid love notes. Lots of love notes. According to the Greeting Card Association, approximately onebillionvalentines are sent every year, making it the biggest card giving holiday besides Christmas.
Dozens of red roses are sent on this day and hundreds of couples get engaged.Radio stations play love songs and bakeries bake heart shaped cookies.February fourteenth is a day dedicated entirely to the pursuit of love.
It’s also the day that five of Al Capone’s men gunned down seven members of Bugs Moran’s gang with Tommy guns in a garage on Chicago’s North Side in 1929.But people usually don’t send cards for that.
It being Valentine’s Day and me being alone, I do what any respectable single woman who’s utterly alone would do—I open a bottle of Stoli and order in some fried food from my local Italian place.
“That’ll be $32.15,� the hostess says after she’s tallied up my dinner delivery order.
“But I get the same thing every time,� I say, pouring my first vodka tonic of the evening.I pour way too much vodka into the glass, making it stronger than I intend it to be, but I’m not exactly drinking it for the taste this evening.“Isn’t it $18 and change?�
“Oh,� she says, “Yeah, normally it is, but there’s an extra charge on all of the menu items for Valentine’s Day.�
“What?”� I say, since I must have misheard her. There’s no way in hell that this girl just told me that even though I was ordering in for one, she was charging me extra because it’s Valentine’s Day. In fact, since I’m ordering for one and it’s Valentine’s Day, shouldn’t I actually get adiscountinstead of a price increase? The whole situation really brings out my Irish. Being a Jewish girl from Long Island, I don’t really have much Irish in me, but it brings it out nonetheless.
“Oh,� she says, “I was just saying that there’s an extra charge on all of the menu items for Valentine’s Day.�
“But, I ordered for one,� I say, pacing around my kitchen with my glass as I speak, “Clearly I’m alone and it’s Valentine’s Day.�
“Yeah,� she says, “I know, it’s just that there’s an extra charge on all of the menu items for Valentine’s Day.�
“I heard you,� I say. I take a big gulp of vodka.
“Okay, so, then it should be there in about 20 minutes,� she says, trying to get me off the phone.
“I ordered for one.”�
Dead silence on the line.
“I’d like to speak to a manager,� I say, polishing off my first glass in just one large gulp.
“Um, okay,� she says, “hold on.�
“Hi there,� the manager’s cheery voice announces, as I’m pouring vodka tonic number two. To call this one a vodka tonic would be a bit of a misnomer. Glass number two is more like a vodka with a splash of tonic. “I’m Greg. I’m the manager here.�
“Hi, Greg,� I say as I sit at the kitchen counter and swirl the glass to mix my drink, “I understand that it’s Valentine’s Day and that means that you have to gauge the eyes out of all the lovesick puppies that come into your restaurant tonight. I would do the exact same thing, Greg. The same thing. I mean, fuck them, okay? Fuck ‘em, Greg. But, I am home—alone—ordering for one. Howdareyou charge me extra for my goddamned Caesar salad and chicken parm. Tonight of all nights. I mean, what the fuck, Greg? What the fuck?�
“You are absolutely right, miss,� manager Greg says to me as I down the second glass of vodka, “I’m so sorry.�
My Caesar salad and chicken parm arrive hot on my doorstep twenty minutes later, and the delivery guy presents me with the bill. I glance at the bill, ready to pay, but then I notice something. It’s not a bill for the usual amount—it’s a bill for the jacked up Valentine’s Day price.
“I’m not paying this,� I say, handing back the bill to the delivery guy.
“Um,� he says, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Whaddya mean?�
“I mean you can tell Manager Greg to go fuck himself,� I say.
“Um, wait? What?�
I hand the delivery guy a tip. “This is for you. You can tell Manager Greg I’m not paying for this. If he has a problem with that, he can come up here himself.”� I grab the bag of food just before I slam the door.
I barely even taste the chicken parm. Minutes later, I realize that I must have eaten—the take-out container’s empty—but it’s like I didn’t even have a bite. Anger coursing through my veins, my face getting hotter by the second, barely processing a thought. Just seeing red. Blinding red. I look down at the take-out container and realize I’m still hungry.
But I don’t want to eat. I want to rage.
Put it into a song,I tell myself,Get it out with your music.
But the words don’t come.There’s no structure, no rhyme or reason—I just want to scream at the top of my lungs for a while.To blow off the steam.
A tear comes to my eye as I think about everything that’s happened to me in the past few months.All the things that I’ve lost, all the things that were totally out of my control.The job, the guy, the freelance gig, the wedding.
The guy.My eyes burn as I force the tears back, refuse to let them out.
I look at my computer across the room, its black cursor against the pale white screen flashing in the dark.Talking to me.Beckoning to me.Write.Get it all out.
So I do.
January 7, 2014
Here's to new beginnings!
I always get so motivated at the start of a new year. New beginnings, a chance to start over, a chance to do new things.
And this year, I'm doing something I've never done before. My fourth novel will be published this winter, but it won't be on the bookshelves at your local bookstore. No, this time I'm doing something a bit different.
This novel will only be published as an e-book.
No pretty paperback to display on my bookshelf. No book parties at my local indie and at Barnes and Noble where my friends can come hear me read and then buy my book. No actual, physical books anywhere to be found.
No, this one will be ordered solely by a click of the mouse.
When the fabulous contacted me about his new independent publishing house, , I jumped at the chance to work with him. Only, I was halfway into my two-book deal with St. Martin's. I didn't know what I would do-- I was working on book two for St. Martin's, and that was taking all of my free time. But, then it hit me: I had a book proposal that I was completely in love with, but never sold due to changes in the publishing landscape. I asked Jason if he wanted to take a peek.
The rest, as they say, his history. Polis Books will be publishing this winter. I don't have an exact pub date yet, but isn't that the fun of e-publishing? Immediacy. The second Jason and I decide that the book's ready to go out in the world, a few clicks, and you will be able to find it at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple, or anywhere you buy your e-books.
Jason's already designed a gorgeous cover for the book, so we're just about ready to launch.
Now, you may recognize this book as my "drawer" novel, the one book I wrote but never saw the light of day. Well, light: here it comes!! (You can still read the first chapter if you'd like by !) I'm so very excited about trying something new. It's fun, a bit scary, and totally liberating to just go for it.
What new things will YOU be doing this new year?
And this year, I'm doing something I've never done before. My fourth novel will be published this winter, but it won't be on the bookshelves at your local bookstore. No, this time I'm doing something a bit different.
This novel will only be published as an e-book.
No pretty paperback to display on my bookshelf. No book parties at my local indie and at Barnes and Noble where my friends can come hear me read and then buy my book. No actual, physical books anywhere to be found.
No, this one will be ordered solely by a click of the mouse.
When the fabulous contacted me about his new independent publishing house, , I jumped at the chance to work with him. Only, I was halfway into my two-book deal with St. Martin's. I didn't know what I would do-- I was working on book two for St. Martin's, and that was taking all of my free time. But, then it hit me: I had a book proposal that I was completely in love with, but never sold due to changes in the publishing landscape. I asked Jason if he wanted to take a peek.
The rest, as they say, his history. Polis Books will be publishing this winter. I don't have an exact pub date yet, but isn't that the fun of e-publishing? Immediacy. The second Jason and I decide that the book's ready to go out in the world, a few clicks, and you will be able to find it at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple, or anywhere you buy your e-books.
Jason's already designed a gorgeous cover for the book, so we're just about ready to launch.
Now, you may recognize this book as my "drawer" novel, the one book I wrote but never saw the light of day. Well, light: here it comes!! (You can still read the first chapter if you'd like by !) I'm so very excited about trying something new. It's fun, a bit scary, and totally liberating to just go for it.
What new things will YOU be doing this new year?
January 4, 2014
What are you up to this Monday, January 6th?
Well, if you're in Manhattan, I'd love to see you when I read at It's an awesome reading series and I was thrilled to be asked.
I'll be reading from my upcoming novel for the first time, so come hear all about !
Hope to see you there!!
Monday, January 6, 2013, 7pm- 9pmthe upstairs bar at Madame X94 W. Houston, bet. Thompson and LaGuardia PlaceNew York City, New York
I'll be reading from my upcoming novel for the first time, so come hear all about !
Hope to see you there!!
Monday, January 6, 2013, 7pm- 9pmthe upstairs bar at Madame X94 W. Houston, bet. Thompson and LaGuardia PlaceNew York City, New York
September 24, 2013
Come and see about me
Put it down in pen: I'll be reading and signing books at Barnes and Noble in Carle Place on Thursday, October 3rd at 7pm!
I'd love to see you there!
One of the most exciting things about writing a book is walking into your local bookstore and seeing your work, out there in the wild, for all the world to see!
I'm so excited to be reading at my local Barnes and Noble next week. Come hear me read from RECIPE FOR A HAPPY LIFE, and talk about writing and my inspiration for the novel. Here's the info:
Thursday, October 3rd at 7pmBarnes and NobleCountry Glen Center91 Old Country Road, Carle Place, New York
And if your book club is reading RECIPE, email me. I'd love to come to your book club meeting, or call in.
See you soon!
xoxobrenda
September 10, 2013
Author Interview: Lorraine Zago Rosenthal
Today, we've got a real treat!! The talented is here to chat with us. I was lucky enough to get an advanced copy of her latest, , and I loved it! Here's what I said about it:
"Who doesn't dream of waking up one day to find out you're the sole heir to a billionaire's fortune? (That's not just me, right?!) In Lorraine Zago Rosenthal'sNew Money, Savannah Morgan goes from a modest Southern upbringing to Manhattan high society in a New York minute. This delightful coming-of-age story will touch you, make you laugh, and keep you turning the pages long into the night."
Lorraine has already published a widely acclaimed YA novel, OTHER WORDS FOR LOVE. And NEW MONEY is already poised to be just as successful as OWFL-- in fact, the television rights to the story have already been sold!
So, let's talk to Lorraine!
What was your inspiration to write your first novel, OTHER WORDS FOR LOVE?
I’m a character-driven writer, and the characters were what came to me first. Ari Mitchell (the main character in Other Words for Love) and her family were in my mind for quite a while before I fully understood Ari’s story and began to write it. When that story crystallized, I just wanted to tell it and to share it with readers. Ari was my inspiration all along. I was also inspired by the concept of “limerence,� which pertains to the intense emotional highs and lows a person can experience when involved in a romantic relationship. Limerence plays a crucial role in the story.
OTHER WORDS FOR LOVE is a YA novel. Your second book, NEW MONEY, is adult fiction. Was it difficult to transition from writing YA to adult?
It wasn’t! I think this is because when I wrote OTHER WORDS FOR LOVE, I wasn’t strictly targeting a teen audience. I believed that both YA and adult readers could relate to the story—and based on the feedback I have received from readers of many ages, this is true. The adult characters in that book—including the main character’s mother and twenty-three-year-old sister—play a major role in the novel and have their own back-stories. Some aspects of OTHER WORDS FOR LOVE are specific to the teen years, and others aren’t.
Because OTHER WORDS FOR LOVE is a mature YA novel, I didn’t find writing adult fiction to be particularly different; however, the major difference between the two novels is that OTHER WORDS FOR LOVE unfolds slowly and is quite introspective, while NEW MONEY is more of a commercial work that is rather fast-moving and—although it has serious aspects—is more lighthearted than OTHER WORDS FOR LOVE. So the biggest transition was writing in a different style—but I really enjoyed it. I think it’s important for an author to be versatile and to constantly challenge herself.
The main character in NEW MONEY—Savannah Morgan—is twenty-four years old, so she fits into the age range of the “New Adult� genre. Can this novel be classified as NA?
Not exactly! I see NEW MONEY as Women’s Fiction with a New Adult protagonist. The NA genre seems to be primarily focused on sex and romance, and NEW MONEY isn’t. Savannah is in that NA age range—and there definitely is romance in the novel—but this is only part of the story. Savannah also deals with the typical issues of being a twenty-something: finding a job/career, adjusting to the workplace, being away from home/family, dealing with evolving friendships, and figuring out who she wants to become.
What has been your biggest overall satisfaction as a writer?
The most satisfying aspect of being a writer is hearing from readers who truly understand my characters and their stories. It’s so rewarding when people pick up on subtle nuances and grasp their meanings.
Additionally, OTHER WORDS FOR LOVE was bought by foreign publishers (in Brazil and Russia), so it’s also rewarding that the book will be translated and sold in other countries.
Are you currently working on another novel?
NEW MONEY is the first book in a two-part series, and I recently completed the second book. The next step will be finalizing it for publication in 2014!
September 9, 2013
Good Morning, Texas!!
Well, this morning was a HUGE thrill for me. My latest novel, , was featured on !!
The fabulous from picked her top -- books to read while you're waiting in the carpool line at your child's school-- and RECIPE topped the list! It was a fabulous segment of "Buy the Book." It even took place in a mini-van!
Watch and enjoy. I'll be over here in the corner totally freaking out.
The fabulous from picked her top -- books to read while you're waiting in the carpool line at your child's school-- and RECIPE topped the list! It was a fabulous segment of "Buy the Book." It even took place in a mini-van!
Watch and enjoy. I'll be over here in the corner totally freaking out.
