Can you tell us a little bit about your book? When did it come out? Where can we get it?
The Reporter
and The Girl MINUS The Super Man! One can purchase the e-copy at Smashwords or the
paperback at Amazon.
The Reporter and The Girl is based on my award winning
blog of the same name. Sabrien Collins is the main character and the readers
follow her relationship with a reporter name Jon. There will be times where you
get inside the character’s head and heart. Emotionally -- it’s up and down, and
asks a lot of hard questions.
Is there anything that
prompted your latest book? Something that inspired you?
I was partly inspired by
my past relationships and different stories of “incidences” I’d exchange with
my friends. But I also did not want the
storyline to be so cliché, where boy meets girl and they fall in love and live
happily ever after. So this project started out as a blog, which is now my
debut novel!
So, when did you know you
wanted to write? Or has it always been a pastime of yours?
Do you have any favorite authors?
Do you write in a specific place? Time of day?
Are there any words you'd like to impart to fellow writers? Any advice?
Dream big, reach far, and never give up! I know it’s
been said before, but your future as an artist is and will be 90% solo, and only you
can count on YOU to make those dreams happen. So get out of your own way, and
do it!
Here is the blurb for The Reporter and The Girl.
Welcome to the rabbit
hole...
I am the
last person in New York City who would fall head over heels in love.
Independent.
Self-possessed. Why would I want to f**k that up?
My online
dating profile at bd-fet.com
simply reads: “Just looking.”
So why am I obsessing about Jon Sudbury?
Jon, the
reporter, is vanilla as a milkshake and has probably never tasted rice and
beans on the same plate before we met.
At least
that’s what I thought.
Why can’t
people remain simple and predictable?
All I
want is control, not to be sent hurtling at maximum speed into the unknown.
Nothing
about our story makes sense.
The thing
is, I can handle desire, lust, passion, even betrayal...
But love is another
world altogether.And this is not a love story.
Here is an excerpt. (Some of this was edited because the content was too adult.)
I teased him, “You’ll never get those handcuffs on me. I’m stronger than you, and I work out all the time.”
“No, you’re not,” he replied coolly. And this is how the bet was set. The first one to be tied up had to serve as the other’s slave for the week. Time for the other third, where’s my leash?
I grabbed my cocoa butter and straddled his back as he lay faced down on the recliner...I reached for the cuffs and quickly got one of his wrists.
But that was all I would get.
Before I knew it, Jon was laughing that same hypnotizing laugh he had on our first date. He pushed me off and had both hands behind my back. Soon I was on the floor and immobilized.
Damn. Wrong third.
*****
Tonight, I came down the stairs to properly greet Master Jon on my knees, I
kiss the top of his feet and say, “Good Evening, Sir.” He looks at me and
immediately makes his way into the dining room on the just washed (while on my
knees) hardwood floors without taking off his shoes.At the table, it would be an overstatement to say that he feasted. Though a very slim build, he eats all the spinach, picking around the nuts and fruit, some of the vegetables but not the tofu, and barely breathes on the quinoa. Good home-cooked food that is consumed regularly with my family is now being sent back to the fridge. I don’t know if he is the typical spoiled White American or if he just didn’t enjoy the food I slaved over for him.
I look away not watching him “eat”...
But, as they say in France, ONE THING LED TO ANOTHER, and I find myself pinned in a damn awkward position over the table with the reporter on top. He takes his sweet time to reach into his travel bag and pull out the plastic bag of condoms I gave him. He throws it on the table, making sure that I see it. A clear signal of what is to happen next.
Not what I had in mind! I never tell Jon this, but I had fantasized about our first time: pictured a weekend, when he would come and stay the night. While he showers, I would prepare the room by dimming the lights and lighting my favorite scented candles, spraying the sheets in the perfume that he likes, and me patiently waiting… naked in bed for him to come in and find a delightful surprise….
There is no music or candlelight like I envisioned...
I do not have enough sense to keep my eyes locked on him; instead they ro-o-o-ll downwards. At the time, I naively thought that such a small natural occurrence due to the amount of…
Author Bio
S.C. Rhyne is a world traveler, blogger, and
novelist based in New York City. When she isn't writing or exploring, she
enjoys swimming, reading historical fiction, and discovering new music. Her
first novel, The Reporter and The Girl blurs the lines of reality and imagination,
and conjures the emotions that bind us together.
Book:
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