New and Debut: Emily Leigh

Another Monday, another new author to meet. Stop by to meet Emily Leigh, author of contemporary romance. You can read what she shared about herself and there is a short excerpt from her latest release, Kiss me, Cooper, for you to enjoy.

1. Tell us about yourself and why did you decide to become a romance writer?

I’ve always read. In fact, I can’t recall a single childhood memory in which I a) didn’t have a book or b) wish I had a book. For a while, when I got grounded a lot because I was super rebellious (or an angel, let’s go with misunderstood angel), it was actually pretty spectacular because I was sent to my room with no TV and no other people. DO YOU KNOW HOW AWESOME THAT WAS? It was awesome. Anyway, I loved to read but I was and still kind of am, very specific about the types of books I read. I always wanted the happy ending. I always wanted the guy to get the girl and the villain to be vanquished. Romance gave me that. The first romance I ever read was a Nora Roberts I found stashed in the bottom of my mom’s sewing basket. In my house, books belonged to everyone so imagine my surprise when I found a hidden book. Imagine my further surprise (I think I was 12 or 13) when I opened the book to the page my mom had marked and there was kissing with a tongue and then… other things with a tongue. I had two thoughts: 1. I shouldn’t be reading this but holy hell was I going to keep reading and 2. How could my mom stop reading right at this very point? I very quickly read the book – Montana Sky, I think it was, and then immediately blew all my babysitting money (I hated babysitting so this was a big deal to go through it all at once) on more Nora Roberts, Linda Howard, and Norah Hess. Does anyone remember the absolute crazysauce that was Norah Hess? No? Do yourself a favor and go look up Snow Fire right now. Go on, I’ll wait. Just read the blurb and look at the cover. Then devour the story of Flame and Stone.

2. Can you share some of your favorite books and authors?

My number one favorite book (series because I’m a series girl) is Anne of Green Gables. I think this series was kind of ahead of its time. I mean, Anne is funny and resourceful and she overcomes the way she thinks she looks to get the boy in the end. And she makes him wait. She makes him agonize. She owns him. Plus, come on, Gilbert Blythe? Yes please.

Today my favorites are Nora (still), Kristan Higgins, Jennifer Crusie, Julia Quinn (because my first foray into romance was Regency and ho boy was that a hot mess but super fun) and Jo Goodman (hello cowboys and the incredible women who outmaneuver said cowboy every time).

One thing all these books/authors have in common is the type of heroine – smart, sassy, resourceful – and the character driven plots. These women aren’t afraid to go after what they want, once they realize what they want, and they sacrifice to get there making it all worth it in the end.

3. Who/what do you consider your writing influence/inspiration?

I take my cues from my favorite authors but I also love TV and movies. Netflix is my jam. One thing I noticed in TV is that a long-running series can be either a very excellent thing or a very disappointing thing. Consider 22 episodes over the course of say 10 years – how to you keep it exciting? Some of my lessons come from ahem, missteps of others. I will close a book or turn of a TV show if the writing ends up lazy which usually means the characters start changing personality for the sake of the conflict or the characters do the same thing over and over and over and never learn.

TV I love: Big Bang Theory, Homeland (I know, not happy at all), Santa Clarita Diet (which I recently discovered and devoured – which is a pun and a very good one if you’ve watched the show, thank you very much).

Movies I love: epics like Star Wars and Lord of the Ring, Pride and Prejudice (the 2003 version with Kiera Knightly… ducking), Juno, and Something’s Gotta Give.

4. What kind of stories can the readers expect from you?

Happy ones? Vague I know but 100% true. Real people dealing in real situations but with a touch of sparkly happiness that makes you feel good and want to sink into a hot bath with a glass of Coke (or wine, but I love Coke) or sit in a beach chair at the ocean all by yourself (kids are super overrated at the beach) and lose yourself in a story of a smart woman looking for her own brand of happy ever after.

5. Introduce your latest release

My latest release is part of a multi-author series set in present day Nashville. I visited there a few years ago with my fellow authors and fell completely and irrevocably in love with the city and the people.

In Kiss Me, Cooper, Georgia Montgomery learns that sometimes running away means finding home. And Cooper Quinn, the deliciously grumpy bookstore owner (seriously, how is that not hot – he’s a dude who loves books so much he has his own store) finds out that love happens whether he wants it or not – and he wants it, so bad! There is a road trip, a beach, a cat (named Cat Two or Cat Too or Jane Austen… it’s a whole thing) and did I mention the bookstore? It’s called The Angry Cat. Boom.

Blurb

Georgia Montgomery abandoned a promising future when she left home following a tragedy. As a paralegal at an up-and-coming law firm on idyllic Hale Street in Nashville, Georgia buried her past – and her dreams – to build a new life. Convincing Cooper Quinn, a reclusive and cranky-but-oh-so-devastating bookstore owner, to open up is part of her new life plan.

Cooper's quiet bookstore life suits him just fine, and he's determined to avoid the chaos that inevitably follows Georgia. She's strong and loud and beautiful. Indestructible. But when one frustrated kiss leads to a thousand, Cooper realizes there is more to Georgia than meets the eye and her force-of-nature personality just might be destined to change his world forever.

Can you call it running away when you find the place you were always meant to be?

Excerpt

Kiss Me, Cooper – Chapter One 

Georgia Montgomery rubbed hard at her eyes and blinked to clear the blur created by her computer screen. Down on the street, two stories below, came the whine of a steel guitar, the rich tones of a lead singer woven through with the hum of fifty or so of Hale Street’s closest friends enjoying a summer night block party. In Hudson’s office, inside the fridge he kept stocked with Dr. Pepper was Georgia’s contribution to the party the girls of Sugar Babies Sweet Shop had organized. She had three large jugs of mint julep and the ingredients for more if needed. With this group, more was always better. 

The brief she was working on would only take thirty minutes or so and then Georgia could go down herself. She was looking forward to a few hours in the easy, casual company of the friends she’d made since joining Hudson Bennett’s law firm on Hale Street as a paralegal. He’d been up twice, Hudson had, to badger, bully, and blackmail her into coming to the party. The blackmail hadn’t worked out very well, she noted with some satisfaction. In an office this small, just the two of them, it was tit for tat. So when he threatened to tell everyone that she had a secret obsession with Family Feud, Georgia pulled out the big guns and simply told him that if he tried to take that low road, she’d reveal the fact that his mother called him three times a week and always referred to him by his baby name — Cinnamon Buns. He’d turned pale over that. 

Besides, the brief was due in court on Wednesday, and if she didn’t do it now, he’d have to take over and finish it on Sunday because Mandy was coming in on Monday to make sure all the facts were straight. 

And Georgia wanted to finish it. Mandy Baker was suing her husband for full custody of their two children, and it had to go right, it had to be perfect before going to the judge. It was up to her to make sure every piece of evidence was in place and the compelling arguments lined up perfectly to0, so that Hudson’s presenting arguments could ensure Mandy and her two boys were safe. Georgia had seen Mandy’s bruises. It had to go right. 

Renewed by that thought, Georgia slipped off her flats and tucked her feet up under her, pulled the rolling chair close to the desk, and got back to work. The noise faded along with the ache in her shoulders and the tightness behind her eyes as she settled into the groove and rhythm of the work. It had always been like this for her, honed and heightened as she moved through college and pre-law toward graduation, preparing for law school. She’d taken a dive in that summer after graduation as she was getting ready to head off to Georgetown; things had gone downhill and her motivation shot to all sorts of hell. Here in Nashville, she’d found her way back to a comfortable work pattern. And cases like these always seemed to spike her work mojo, her brain clicking through and discarding options, words, laws until settling on just the right argument, just the right tone to suit whatever judge they happened to be presenting to. 

Done, Georgia saved the file and uploaded it to the shared server, then sent Hudson a notification email. She switched off the computer screen and blinked when the room plunged into darkness. It had still been light when she started, and Georgia sucked in a breath when her gaze hit the digital clock on her desk. It was after nine now and the party below, judging from the loud shout of male laughter, was still going hard. 

Okay, time to go. She shoved her feet into her shoes and, flipping on the overhead lights, went back to Hudson’s office. Bennett Law Offices, located on the second floor of one of the brick buildings that lined Hale Street, consisted of three rooms. The front, her office and the lobby, overlooked the street. Hudson occupied the back of the building, with a tiny supply and copy room between them. Hudson had told her that other buildings might have been a better fit but this one had been ready when he needed the space, and it was right next to Sugar Babies. Sometimes the smell of baking cupcakes wafted over, seeping through the century-old bricks, and filled the office with a warm, buttery scent. 

She would have chosen this spot too. Hale Street was the perfect fit for the boutique law office, and the location played a big part in Georgia’s decision to take the job offer after bouncing around Nashville’s law scene for a few years. 

In Hudson’s office, Georgia opened the refrigerator and pulled out the jugs. She used one hand to shove aside the overflowing pile of papers on Hudson’s desk and set the jugs down. He was a law genius, Hudson, but only when he worked in absolute chaos. Georgia shook her head, bemused, as a tottering pile fell to the floor. Law genius, complete slob. 

When she straightened, her gaze snagged, as it always did, on the Stanford Law diploma hanging behind Hudson’s desk. It never failed to hit her straight in the stomach, a little dip of regret mixed with a healthy dose of shame and misery. But she was doing well now. She was doing what she was meant to do. It was fine. Georgia told herself that every time too. 

“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered and carted the jugs out to the front office, where her phone was beeping with a text. 

Get your ass out here, Montgomery, Hudson had texted. 

“Coming,” she said to the phone, gathered up the rest of her things, and thundered down the stairs, locking the door behind her. As she did every time she locked up, Georgia took a moment to enjoy Hale Street. It was short, only about a half of a city block, but lined on both sides with two- and three-story turn-of-the-century brick buildings. In the glow of the golden street lamps and dazzle of white fairy lights the bakery girls had strung from one side of the street to the other, the brick sidewalks glistened and the wrought iron balconies cast shadows. At the end of the street, a small green space covered over with big, leafy trees and winding paths was situated to one side of the grand Wentworth Hotel. 

She loved it here. She loved that she could walk to work in the mornings. Her darling one-bedroom apartment was on the opposite side of the street from the law offices, in an old warehouse converted to studio apartments on the second and third levels. The main level was earmarked for a business or retail space, and she’d heard rumblings of a wellness spa. From her own balcony, Georgia could see the tops of the trees in the green space, hear the flags snapping in the breeze outside the Wentworth, and watch all the comings and the goings of the street. 

Hudson was there on the sidewalk beside her, already taking the jugs from her hands. 

“Come on, Montgomery, you’re missing the band.” 

She tipped her head back to look at him, noting he’d exchanged his work slacks and button-down for a T-shirt and cargo shorts. He topped her by more than a few inches and Georgia wasn’t a short woman. “I could hear them well enough upstairs when I was doing your work.” 

“Burn,” he drawled, showing off a stellar grin. “And thank you.” 

“We just have to get Mandy’s sign-off on Monday.” 

“We will,” he assured her and led her over to a group of folding tables covered with fluttering white and teal table cloths. Probably Violet, one of the bakery girls, who hurried over and drew Georgia into a happy hug that Georgia returned with equal enthusiasm. 

“Hudson told me he had you up there working all night. I’m glad he finally let you out.” 

“Hey,” Hudson protested mildly but then ignored them in favor of fixing a mint julep. 

“He’s decent enough,” Georgia allowed loudly. She liked Hudson tremendously and fed on the brother-sister vibe. She’d left family behind in Florida, including her three sisters and two brothers (Caroline, Mary, Cheyenne, Dallas, and Houston — Sharon Montgomery had a passion for travel and she applied it liberally to her children’s names) along with a myriad of cousins. She loved coming to work every day, and although he was her boss, it was less like a boss relationship and definitely more family feeling. They were on the same team, she and Hudson, and yeah, oh, yeah, he was something to look at with his preppy East Coast looks — tall, dark, and delicious — but she couldn’t get past the fact that his mom called him Cinnamon Bun or that he slurped his Dr. Pepper in a highly irritating fashion. 

“The turnout is amazing,” Georgia said loudly as the band started up again, this time with a cover of “Ring of Fire.” “You might run out of food and drinks.” 

“Clayborne’s has that covered,” Violet said and waved a hand toward Clayborne’s on the Corner, the family-owned bar situated at the entrance to Hale Street. Hunter Clayborne operated the bar and served as an association member on the Hale Street revitalization effort. “He’s going to start sending groups over there around midnight. That’s when the city said we had to start shutting things down.” 

Georgia passed a friendly wave at Asia Knowles, an assistant manager at Clayborne’s, as she sailed by, and glanced around. It appeared as though the whole street, and their guests, had turned out in fine form. She saw Nessa, who owned the wedding dress shop down the street, twirling around on the arm of Frank Dole, grizzly and grumpy owner of Frank’s Diner, while his wife, Tilly, looked on, laughing. Nick, Violet’s boyfriend and one of Hale’s preferred contractors, was sipping on a beer on the fringes, talking to Burke Wentworth, who owned the hotel at the end of the street. There were others too. Ivy, the bakery goddess, was leading the third bakery girl, Kennedy Lowell, through the crowd talking a million miles a minute while Kennedy smiled indulgently. 

There was Jackson, Kennedy’s brother, chatting with a guy Georgia didn’t recognize and the third Lowell sibling, Sierra. Lurlene, a lifetime resident of one of the apartments above what was now a boot shop, stood on the edges looking for someone to trap into conversation about bats or the evils of technology or whatever other mad genius topic she’d focused on with razor-sharp obsession. Her albino ferret, Snowball, hopped around on his hot pink leash before snuggling down between Lurlene’s oversized green Crocs. 

Georgia looked away quickly before Lurlene could catch her eye. 

“Where’s Cooper?” she asked Violet. 

“I haven’t seen him yet.” Violet glanced toward the building directly next to Sugar Babies and across the street from Clayborne’s. “No lights on in the Angry Cat. He knew we were having the block party; Ivy went over and badgered him about it. Do you think he would have gone home?” 

“Typical if he did,” Georgia said even as the zing of awareness that accompanied Cooper Quinn’s name faded away. “He’s not big on crowds.” 

“He’s getting better,” Violet said, still frowning. “Do you think I should go over there? See if he’s there?” 

“No.” Georgia took a plastic cup from the stack on the table, filled it, and handed it to Violet. “I’ll do it. You go make Nick dance with you.” 

“He won’t.” 

“He will if you ask nicely.” 

Violet grinned. “Yeah, you’re right. Don’t let Cooper say no if he’s over there, okay?” 

Georgia saluted as Violet whirled away, looking insanely in love. It’d be nice, Georgia thought, to have someone to dance with. Someone who lit up when she walked by, like Nick was lighting up now, taking Violet’s outstretched hand, laughing with her, pulling her close as the band slowed it down. 

Nice, she thought and turned toward the Angry Cat Bookstore and Cooper Quinn.

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