20 quickie facts about Joe Campbell:
Birthday? November 27
Favorite color? Black
Birthmark or scars? None
Tattoos? Two: A Chinese Dragon that wraps around my left upper arm and onto my chest and a G clef and measures of music on my right wrist.
Siblings? One sister
City of residence? Prestbury, England
If you were a jelly bean flavor, what flavor would you be? Why would I be a jelly bean flavor?
Occupation? Lead singer of alternative metal band, Bind Man’s Alibi
Hobbies? Drinking & Sex
Favorite song? Alienation
Name one item in your refrigerator right now? I have been on tour for a year and a half. It bloody well better be empty.
Your greatest fear? Losing Emma. Finding myself right back with the fakes and the liars -with my old friend darkness.
Most treasured possession? My Koenigsegg Agera RS
Special talent? Being a no good asshole.
Cat or dog? Dog
Pet peeve? Fakes
Unforgettable moment? The night I looked down and spotted Emma looking up at him from the audience like a ray of sunshine.
Spicy or not? Spicy
Favorite guilty pleasure? Jameson
If you could ask your author one question, what would it be? Why didn’t you bring Em into my life sooner?
I stumbled upon this photograph earlier this week and knew I had to share. I was immediately inspired - not just by his good looks, either. Every time I look at it my mind starts rolling through all of the different scenarios he could be in the center of, and the story ideas explode!
Oh the places he and I could go!
What inspires you?
Please help me welcome my friend Angel Nicholas to the blog today. We're together celebrating her new romantic suspense, Blood Will Tell.
With the purchase of a darling little house on the Washington coast, Laura Nichols took decisive control of her life. The dramatic ocean vistas are the only type of drama she’s willing to allow in her life these days. As a bonus, small towns are toxic to power hungry alpha males. Clean salt air, blue skies, and wet sand stuck to the soles of her feet sound like heaven.
Pity no one told her heaven comes with an expiration label that closely resembles the toe tag on a John Doe. Or that the chief of police in her sleepy town would be more alpha, and far more irresistible, than any Gucci suit wearing date she’d suffered through in Olympia. And if her high-ranking political family finds out about the attempts on her life, a security detail will be camped out in her living room. But hey, what’s a little attempted murder between friends?
Nate opened the screen door, stepped inside and her small foyer shrank. He stood a head taller than the shorter officer, with the thick, muscled body of a defensive linebacker. Not handsome exactly, which made it difficult to understand why she couldn’t tear her gaze free. Could have something to do with the way danger and magnetic appeal wrapped around his broad shoulders like a super hero’s cape.
Nate’s gaze was decidedly cool. “I don’t see any children, Kev.”
Aloof and deep, his voice penetrated her defenses, a one-ton diesel truck idling in the drive; power, masculinity, freedom… raw virility in its truest form. A flush warmed her skin, her body softening in subtle submission.
Inhaling deeply, she watched him take her in from the tip of her bright red toenails to the top of her mussed hair. For all the emotion he showed, she could have been a bag of potato chips on a store shelf. Laura’s spine snapped straight as she shook off the haze of attraction, fisted her hands at her sides and narrowed her eyes.
“I’m Chief Nathaniel Sterling with the Long Beach Police Department. You’re Miss Nichols?” At her nod, he flipped open the front of his tweed blazer to reveal the butt of a very large black gun. He slipped his thumbs into his front pockets, splaying long fingers across the front of dark trousers and glanced down her hall. His eyes narrowed, turning his expression darker, more formidable, as it returned to her. “Want to tell me what happened tonight?”
No, I thought we could play a little guessing game.
“Do I have a choice?” Yeah, intimidation had never worked well on her.
He arched a dark brow.
Neat trick. Did he practice in front of a mirror? She rubbed her forehead and sighed. When had she become such a royal witch? “I’m going to get dressed first.”
A beat passed as once more his hard gaze moved over her like a physical touch, spreading heat through her belly. Every second in his presence notched her awareness up until she wanted to scream. She’d had her fill of controlling, arrogant men. In fact, in moving beyond her family’s sphere of influence, she hoped to find a nice, normal guy—the exact opposite of Chief Sterling, based on the vibes coming off him.
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll wait.”
Gee, thanks.” Laura spun on her heel and jogged up the steps, feeling his gaze on her the whole way.
Miss Nichols’ simple oversized sleep tee exposed one creamy shoulder, teasingly outlining killer curves when she moved. Nate watched her run up the steps, mesmerized by the flash of smooth legs, gorgeous riot of hair and jiggle of her firm ass. He enjoyed the view, but the spark of sass and irritation he’d seen in her eyes made him hot under the collar.
Usually, something along the lines of light reflecting off a gun barrel was required to snare the entirety of his attention. A woman? Not if he could help it.
Much to my regret, I must postpone the release of HAUNTED (Blind Man’s Alibi #2). As many of you know I have been fighting pneumonia since around Christmas. About ten days ago I finally got a clean bill of health only to fall sick again. The amount of time I’ve been ill has put a hurt on my writing so I’m pushing back the release of Haunted in order to deliver the best story I can. The story you, as my readers, deserve.
Thank you for understanding.
Coming Soon from Lyrical Underground
A Likely Story by AJ Nuest
An Eye for an EyeAs owner of Dirty Deeds, a tech-savvy company specializing in the age-old art of revenge, Eden Smith knows first-hand that secrecy is critical. But when a dead body washes up on the shores of Lake Michigan clutching her business card, Eden’s well-constructed world begins to fall apart. Apparently, she’s not the only one with a passion for payback, and staying alive to outsmart a killer has become her most important job of all.
Game for a Game
Hardened homicide detective Kelly Riordan is convinced Eden Smith is hiding more than she’s willing to admit. Years on the force have taught him that nothing is what it seems, and that couldn’t be truer than when it comes to investigating the alluring owner of a revenge-for-hire business. But revealing her past could put everything Eden has worked for in jeopardy. And trusting a man like Riordan goes against the very instincts that have kept her alive this long.
Book one in the highly-anticipated
Dirty Deeds, A Likely Story Series!
Kelly’s phone chirped, and he frowned, slipping it from the pocket of his jeans. A glance at the caller ID, and he jerked to attention. “Holy shit.”
He knew that number. It’d been the bane of existence for the past forty-eight hours.
Archer lifted his brows. “Problem?”
Holding up his hand, Kelly thumbed the screen. Whether or not this call qualified as a problem was still up for grabs. “Riordan.”
“I heard you’ve been looking for me, Detective.” The voice was female, soft, held a slight hint of humor. Yep. He raked his hand through his hair. This was gonna be a problem, all right. “I hope you don’t mind that I called.”
His brows jacked toward his hairline. Mind that she called? What the hell was she trying to pull? For Christ’s sake, the woman had not only located his private number, she’d dialed it and then acted like calling him was no big deal. Meanwhile, he’d only spent the last two days driving himself nuts trying to figure out her loca--
His eyes slammed shut. But, of course, she already knew that. Which could only mean she also knew his efforts at trying to find her had resulted in a dead end. So she’d called him. A power play to establish right from the get-go exactly who was in charge.
Nice move, Dirty Deeds. Bitchy, but nice.
“Are you there? Maybe I’ve called at a bad time. If you want, I can always—”
“No, no, I’m here.” He locked onto Archer and wrote an invisible line through the air, signaling for him to get some paper and a pen. Kelly cleared his throat. “How can I help you, Miss…?”
She laughed. Smooth, low. Like a shot of barrel-aged whiskey had just slid down her throat. “I think the question you meant to ask is how can I help you.”
Dammit. Huge problem. Huge, huge problem. Not to mention, she seemed to be enjoying this game she’d cooked up. A game she played without giving him the parameters. “Had I known it would be this easy to get your assistance, I would’ve started asking questions about you a long time ago.”
It was a stupid thing to say since he hadn’t even known she existed until Monday night, but based on the way her husky laugh brushed his ear like a feather, she got the point.
“Very good, Detective. At ten o’clock tonight, I’ll be at 17 South State Street on the twenty-first floor, room 4-B. I’ll give you ten minutes.” She paused. “Funny, I was about to say come alone, but I know you won’t. Besides, that sounds corny. Even for me.”
The line disconnected.
Kelly lowered the phone and stared at the screen. On impulse, he hit *69 to dial back the number, but a weird busy signal repeatedly beeped in his ear. Yep. He’d just been spanked and, at the same time, something about her…
Damn, the woman had him intrigued.
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Heat Rating: 4 Flames
Publication Date: January 31, 2017
Author: AJ Nuest
PRE-ORDER NOW at these on-line retailers:
WRECKED has been awarded a gold medal in the Readers Favorite 2016 Contest! I can't find the words to explain just how humbled I am by winning this award. And thrilled! If you'd like to check out the review from Readers Favorite, you can find it HERE.
Oh, and don't forget, Wrecked is #FREE on Kindle Unlimited. Get your copy here.
Wrecked is currently book of the month at Eye on Romance. Click the photo below to check it out!
Have you heard? WRECKED has been nominated for a Readers Choice Award over at The Romance Reviews! I'm honored to have been nominated. Truly. And thrilled! I'm up against some steep competition and could use your vote if you're willing to give it? You'll have to sign up on the site to vote, but they don't sell your information or spam you.
If you're willing to give Wrecked a vote, you can do so HERE. Thanks so much!
I just got a great review from Readers Favorite for Wrecked, the first in a new series titled Blind Man's Alibi. This book is entered in their annual book award contest so I'm happy to see that the review enjoyed it. Check out the review below.
With some of the most deeply developed characters of any genre, Wrecked: Blind Man’s Alibi Book 1 by Sarah Grimm leaves you breathless as emotions flow through and around you page after page. The intensity of Emma and Joe’s feelings is portrayed through exquisite love scenes that leave you breathless in their afterglow. Their hopes, fears and ultimate understanding of their own psyches fill you with the wonder of the capacity of the human soul to accept changes and grow in spite of the pain that fills them with the reality of Emma’s imminent death. Never has such a sad story offered such a degree of hope and consolation.
Author: Sarah Grimm
Series: Blind Man's Alibi Book #1
Genre: Contemporary Romance
She was destined to show him the joy and pain of living.
Joe Campbell has it all: money, success, and fame. As lead singer of alternative rock band Blind Man’s Alibi, he holds the vague conviction that life on the road, and nights filled with meaningless sexual encounters, is enough. Until her – Emma Travers. She is a breath of fresh air. Sunshine to his darkness. The one who changes him, pushes him, and teaches him to truly live. He never imagines she is hiding a devastating secret. Or that the same emotion that could steal his heart, would ultimately break it.
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“Sorry, but sucking off a narcissistic asshole who’s so damn drunk he can’t recall the words to his own song is not my idea of a good time.”
His bark of laughter echoed in the empty hall. “You really are a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”
God, what a terrible idea this had been. Hoping to put some distance between them, Emma Travers quickened her pace, only to stumble over the uncustomary height of the heels her best friend Alison had convinced her to wear. Her ankle screamed in protest, forcing her to skid to a halt. Balancing precariously so she didn’t face plant on the concrete, she struggled against the zippers, finally succeeding in pulling the rhinestone studded stilettos from her swollen feet. She barely resisted the urge to turn around and throw them at the head of the man who’d pissed her off faster than a Bugatti Veyron went from zero to sixty, and instead tossed them aside and continued her escape in bare feet.
“Come back and see me sometime, Emma,” Joe Campbell, lead singer of the British alternative metal band Blind Man's Alibi, called out to her.
“I could use a bit of sunshine in my life.” The murmur hit her ears like a shout, and stopped her in her tracks.
Emma remained rooted in place, unable to decide if he was for real or filling her with pretty words in order to get her to stay and sleep with him. He sounded sincere enough, but the only way to know for certain was to face him. Something she really didn’t want to do.
Not that he was painful to look at. Oh no, Joe Campbell was extremely pleasing to the eye, a fact he knew too well. One, she was certain, he used to his advantage whenever an occasion presented itself. Like tonight, when she’d gone against character and accepted his invitation backstage after the show.
One glimpse of the man who stood alone in the room she’d been unceremoniously delivered to and Emma went hot all over. Unable to speak, she’d allowed her gaze to take a long, slow journey over his body. His torso was bare, giving her an unobstructed view of hardened pecs, a flat washboard stomach and muscles that rippled and shifted, making the Chinese dragon wrapped around his left upper arm and onto his chest seem alive as he slipped his left hand into the front pocket of his jeans. Dear God, those jeans! The way they hung on his lean hips, the top button undone like he’d just pulled them on. They rode so low there was no mistaking that underneath them he was commando. Her gaze had locked on the obvious bulge behind his fly and, for a moment, she’d actually considered dropping to her knees before him and taking a taste.
Then he’d opened his mouth. What was that saying? Elvis has left the building. She was outta there.
With a deep breath for courage, Emma turned around and was greeted by the same image of the man as before. Except that the whiskey bottle he’d held in his right hand and lifted to those delectable lips too many times to count, was nowhere to be seen. Oh great, and the hulking brute who’d brought her backstage stood leaning against the wall to Joe’s right.
Gary, she was pretty certain he’d introduced himself as Gary, held his arms crossed before him, head tipped toward the floor in a pseudo relaxed pose designed to give the impression he hadn’t just heard every damn word they’d said. He blew the image to shit when he lifted his head and winked at her. Winked! Was everyone in the music industry completely bonkers?
Emma did her best to ignore the brute and focused on the singer. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”
“What did you expect?”
“I guess I hoped the stage show was just that, a show, and that there was a decent guy behind all of that. Maybe I wanted to believe the ‘I’m too sexy for my own good’ attitude was just publicity.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” His tone didn’t sound regretful at all. He strode toward her, moved with such a fluid grace Emma’s heart thumped in response. His long legs closed the distance in half the time it had taken her to get this far. She made herself stand her ground as he stepped in close, closer than she’d yet allowed him to get. Close enough she caught the subtle hint of soap on his skin and whiskey on his breath. “You’re right about one thing, I’m an asshole. But it wasn’t the alcohol that caused me to lose my words tonight, Emma Travers. It was you.”
His chin-length brown hair was nearly dry now and hung over his eyes as if windblown, though nary a wisp of air blew from the vents above. Eyes she was surprised to learn were two different colors—one brown, the other a mix of brown and green. “You excel at telling a girl what she wants to hear, I’ll give you that.”
His gaze didn’t flinch. “How can you doubt the truth? You were there, front row center. Close enough to touch me.” The soft timbre of his voice warmed her even more than the heat radiating off his skin. He fell silent, unmoving, as if he were waiting for something. What, she wasn’t certain. Unable to meet his gaze, she lowered hers and found herself transfixed by the movement of his Adam’s apple as he spoke. “All you had to do was reach out.”
An image of hands pawing and clutching at him whenever he’d trekked too close to the edge of the stage flashed through her mind. She swallowed hard, her mouth going dry, and shook her head. “Is that what you wanted me to do? Grope you like the other women in the audience? Do you actually enjoy that?”
“Yet you expect me to believe that, for some unknown reason, you wanted me to touch you?”
“You stood out from the crowd. Not singing, not screaming, just standing in the front row. It was impossible not to notice you. I wondered why you were at the show, You didn’t seem to be having a good time. Then you smiled at me…my mind blanked.”
What the hell was she supposed to say to that? Thanks for noticing me?
“I was feeding you lines and you just stood there, staring.” Much the same way as she was doing now. Christ, he was beautiful. Her fingers itched with the need to trace his lips, his mustache, the little hairless spots on the outside of his bottom lip and that sexy as hell strip of facial hair that went from the center of his full lower lip down, to blend into his short trimmed beard.
Her throat went dry as dust. “Why me? I’m not actually supposed to believe you saw me and lost your place, am I?”
“That’s what happened.” His words were matter-of-fact, meant to be believed. “You know it’s true, you were there.”
Emma shook her head.
“Contrary to what you think, I was not too drunk to remember the lyrics. You see, I’m an accomplished drinker. I’ve been at it a long time. Long enough to know that forgetting the words to one of my songs is about as never-going-to-happen as forgetting how to please a woman.”
“Why what, Sunshine?”
“Why are you a practiced drunk? Is that all you do, spend your free time partying?”
“Interesting. You don’t question my forgetting how to please a woman?”
“Hah! You could probably pull that off if you were comatose.”
All About the AuthorThe youngest of four, Sarah Grimm can't remember a time when she wasn't writing. In fact, her siblings believe she began writing in utero to pass the time. As a child, Sarah wrote constantly, littering the house with bulging spiral notebooks and ignoring the ribbing of her mother and sister who routinely said 'romances?' in a somewhat scornful tone. Sarah is a Romance Through the Ages award winner for Best Contemporary Romance, a RONE Awards finalist, and a Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence finalist.
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