I'll Pass On the "Billionaire Club"

When I first heard about the craze of 50 Shades, I was intrigued.  As I understood it, James was blazing a new trail, moving readers from the traditional romance to a steamier and more erotic form of literature.    It brought back memories of Madonna and the cone bra.  These are the shocking moments where pop culture can change and shape a future generation.  But the more I heard about the characters and plot of the stories, the more certain I was that I didn't ever want to read them.  It's not the erotica that is a problem for me.  It's the general idea of what sounds like a one-sided relationship between two characters.

PROBLEM #1:
She is a working class woman; he is a billionaire.  While I don't have a problem with the romance stories of characters from opposite sides of the tracks, does it seem tedious that the one with the upper hand seems to so very often be the man?  It was one of the reasons that Pretty in Pink is my least favorite John Hughes film.  Yes, this is the feminist in me speaking.  I understand that men traditionally make more money than women in our society.  Blah blah blah.  Without getting political, this concept of a female protagonist suddenly having an epiphany that she is worthy of a billionaire seems so ridiculously irrelevant to me.  It seems to point to a sign of the times, sadly.  When did romance become less about love and chemistry and more about becoming spontaneously and filthily rich?

PROBLEM #2:
He likes to be sexually dominant; she lacks experience and sounds meek and docile.  At the risk of sounding like a prude, there's nothing hot about this scenario.  I like my female leads to have spine.  Gumption.  Piss and vinegar.  Another author once said that her protagonists have to have "a little Buffy" in them.  Yes, please!

PROBLEM #3:
After pages and pages and pages and pages of the details of their seemingly one-sided relationship, we learn that he has issues.  No kidding?  He's a broken man.  Cue sympathetic sighs here.  And she's exactly what he needs to fix himself.  I don't buy it.  I am a romantic at heart.  But I'm also fairly cynical.  Broken people don't get fixed by human doormats.  That's what therapists are for.

Again, please let me repeat that this is NOT intended as a review of James's trilogy.  I have not read any of the three books and am in no way qualified to write a review.  I simply don't think the trilogy is for me.  Thousands of readers, however, have fallen in love with her books and characters.  So in spite of my own rigid, personal opinions, Ms. James has gotten it right.  And much more importantly, she developed her own formula to get it right.

THE VASTLY LARGER PROBLEM...
Author after author after author continues to mimic the 50 Shades Formula of the poor woman being swept off of her feet by the beautiful billionaire, both of whom eventually realize that they are incomplete without the other.  Could someone at least mix it up a little and make the billionaire the woman?  She could come in and do the financial rescuing, too, to mix things up a little.  And if she happens to slay a demon or two along the way, great!

I suppose the real problem stems from our society wanting to ride out the waves of financial success that have been built by the trailblazers.  J.K. Rowling, Stephanie Meyer, Suzanne Collins, and E.L. James all come to mind as having created recent trends that countless others then try to mimic, with hopes of equally great success.  But isn't it even more important to remember that these authors developed an original concept and ran with it?  (This is what makes them trailblazers!)  Sure, breaking out involves risk.  But I, for one, am finding that creativity and originality are becoming rarer and more valuable commodities these days.  And they are absolutely necessary when working in the arts.

So if you truly are interested in creating a brand for yourself, I think it is critical to first develop your own unique formula.  Do something different.  Be original.

Please.

DESIRE IN THE DEMIMONDE - now available on Amazon!

The second book of The Demimonde Trilogy is now available on Amazon! 

Justine Dixon was a socialite in the upper crust of Butte's society. But when she foolishly fell for the seduction of a confidence man, she found herself broken and alone. The Demimonde took her in and made her one of their own. Now, nine years later, she is one of the most successful prostitutes of the Mercury Street parlor houses. And she's made the mistake of falling in love with Jack Murphy, playboy and copper man. 


Jack once valued his simple life. He worked in the mine and spent his money on cards and women. But now he is the assistant superintendent of the mine, torn between the concerns of his men and the demands of the corporate owners. When violence breaks out between the two sides, Jack realizes that playing the middle man has put him in a precarious position. 


And when his cousin comes to town to threaten everything that matters, Jack is stunned to realize that Justine is more important than he could have imagined. But will he be able to accept the love of a prostitute before everything is destroyed?


Here is an excerpt from DESIRE IN THE DEMIMONDE:

     “Evening,” he drawled in greeting with a grin that suggested he knew the effect that his slow voice had on her insides.

     Without answering, the corners of her mouth tilted upward as she sipped her whiskey.  Her eyes lingered on his for a moment before shifting to the limited view of the waltzing dancers in the next room.  He leaned his back against the bar, appreciating the rush of blood when his thigh brushed against her knee.

     “I trust you’ve been able to keep yourself entertained tonight, Justine.”

     Another sip of whiskey and a sardonic smile preceded her response.  “Watching you corrupt the local youth is always entertaining, Jack.”

     He laughed and shifted deliberately to allow himself the pleasure of feeling her knee nudge him again.  He watched for a change in her expression, but she kept her eyes on the dancers that moved across the wide doorway opposite them.  Only a hint of a flush in her cheeks suggested that she was aware of the contact.

     It was just like her to remain composed, always cool and aloof.  He smiled at the line of her jaw and remembered the desire that her eyes would hold as she lay beneath him with her hair loose around the pillow.  Not always cool and aloof. 

     In the six years he’d been seeing her, he’d come to admit that she wasn’t terribly damaged by his cousin’s behaviors.  She had pulled herself up by her bootstraps and had made something of herself.  He had been surprised to realize that she was one of the most content women he’d ever known.  Their conversations had been enlightening, and he’d been forced to admit that she provided well for herself and was completely independent.  She was the strongest woman he’d ever met.

     That first night in the dance hall, he’d expected to find her sad and alone.  He anticipated that she might be intoxicated and a bit too desperate.  But she’d been none of those things.  She had handled herself on a level expected from the daughters of the wealthiest and most prominent families in town.  But then, why wouldn’t she.  It was the life she’d been born into.

     “I suppose we should dance,” he offered.

     Again, the corners of her mouth turned up on either side of her whiskey glass.  “One does that on occasion at a dance hall.”

     He shrugged his shoulders in dismissal.  “Then again, why ruin a perfectly good evening.”

     “Why indeed?”  She had never once seen him so much as tap his foot in time to the music in six years.

     Reaching up, he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.  “Why do you insist on making me come here to find you?”

     She widened her eyes in innocence.  “I come here for the music and whiskey.  If you feel compelled to follow me here, I can hardly hold myself to blame.”

     “True,” he admitted with pretended reluctance.  He looked to his right to the man who was taking the stool beside him and took advantage of the excuse to move in closer to her.  He hooked one thumb in his belt loop and dropped the other hand to her knee.  “I suppose that I like the tradition of it all.”

     She grinned at him, the laughter lighting her eyes.  “You are by far the greatest traditionalist I’ve ever met in my life.”

     Shrugging again in mock humility, he returned her grin.  “Shall we join a card game?”

     “I’d like nothing more.”

     He cocked an eyebrow at her suggestively.  “Nothing?”

     She slipped off of her barstool and moved past him with a laugh.  “All in good time, Mr. Murphy.”

Book 2 of The Demimonde Trilogy will be available this weekend!

Desire in the Demimonde will finally be released this weekend.  You can purchase your copy on Amazon.

     Justine Dixon was a socialite in the upper crust of Butte's society.  But when she foolishly fell for the seduction of a confidence man, she found herself broken and alone.  The Demimonde took her in and made her one of their own.  Now, nine years later, she is one of the most successful prostitutes of the Mercury Street parlor houses.  And she's made the mistake of falling in love with Jack Murphy, playboy and copper man.  

     Jack once valued his simple life.  He worked in the mine and spent his money on cards and women.  But now he is the assistant superintendent of the mine, torn between the concerns of his men and the demands of the corporate owners.  When violence breaks out between the two sides, Jack realizes that playing the middle man has put him in a precarious position.

     And when his cousin comes to town to threaten everything that matters, Jack is stunned to realize that Justine is more important than he could have imagined.  But will he be able to accept the love of a prostitute before everything is destroyed?

FIRSTBORN (Book 1 of The MaCall Prophecy Trilogy) is free July 7 - 9!

Jac MaCall left her father's security consulting firm to run her own shop, selling crystals for healing and meditation.  When she's asked to fill in for her sister on a consultation, she meets the irresistibly uptight Dr. Will Archer and receives a vision that warns of a threat upon his life.  And while her premonitions help her keep him alive, even she cannot foresee that their passion for each other will endanger them both.

The Demimonde Trilogy...an Update

I am fully immersed in Desire in the Demimonde, the story of Justine Dixon, a high-priced prostitute living in Butte, Montana in 1910.  I have even taken a strong liking to my hero, Jack Murphy, a mine worker being forced to play mediator between the other miners and the corporation who has bought out the mine.  I'm very happy with the way the story is spinning out, with a healthy balance of romance, adventure, and sharp wit.  It's all coming together rather quickly.  I anticipate a release date in the middle of next month.

In the meantime, I am almost certain I am asking my graphic designer, Laura Gordon, to create a new cover for The Demimonde Trilogy.  I didn't really have a clear idea of what I wanted when I did the cover for Daughter of the Demimonde.  This weekend, while browsing Laura's recent covers, I found some that gave me some new ideas that I'm hoping to try out.  She really is fantastic!

So with any luck--and some clear focus and hard work--my next post will be an excerpt and then a release announcement.  I will say that I always enjoy this process of creation, but I haven't adored a character more than Jac MaCall until now.  I hope you all enjoy Justine Dixon and Jack Murphy as much as I have.

Daughter of the Demimonde - an Excerpt

The first book of The Demimonde Trilogy is now available on Amazon.  I typically post excerpts of the beginning of my books, but I wanted to share this one, as well.  This is the moment with Cathleen Ainsley, daughter of a notorious brothel owner, meets Agent Kane Malone, the man investigating allegations of human trafficking in the red light district.  He mistakenly believes that she works as one of her mother's prostitutes and is less proper than he probably should be.

Excerpt of DAUGHTER OF THE DEMIMONDE

     He sipped the amber colored liquid from his glass, noting that the color of his scotch matched one of the many shades of Cathleen’s hair. Holding the glass between his thumb and index finger, he swirled the contents and smiled to himself.
     “I understand that you’ve been looking for me.”
     Startled, he dropped the glass and leapt to his feet, but not before getting his lap sprayed with his spilled drink. The sound of the glass striking the hard wood of the hand crafted table echoed around the room, even above the sounds of the other men’s voices.
     She stood before him, her chin thrust into the air, whether out of pride or in an effort to meet his gaze, he couldn’t be sure.
     “You have freckles,” he greeted absently.
     “I am aware of that. What I am not aware of, Agent Malone, is what business you think you have with me.”
     She hadn’t expected him to be so tall. When she’d seen him at Hum Yow’s, he’d been hunched over, retrieving the bolt of fabric he had toppled to the floor. Her eyes dropped to the front of his wet pants. His clumsiness seemed to be a chronic problem.
     Meeting his eyes again, she caught both amusement and challenge in his hazel eyes, and when her pulse began racing, she comforted herself with the knowledge that Bear was only forty feet across the room. And in a matter of moments, he would be much closer, judging by his past protective behaviors.
     She cleared her throat in expectation.
     “I have been trying to track you down,” he explained, having regained his senses.
     “Yes. The question is why?”
     “I saw you at the Chinese silk store, and you caught my attention,” he began. He smiled disarmingly, increasing her sense of unease.
     She flicked a nonexistent piece of lint off of her sleeve, feigning disinterest. “I remember.” Her short, direct answers were her way of encouraging an explanation without giving away the tremor she felt threatening her voice. Her knees felt shaky, and she feared that she would drop if she didn’t sit down soon. Nevertheless, she urged herself to remain standing so that she could keep the tone professional for this particular conversation.
     “When I saw you enter the Artisan, I knew that I had to speak with you.”
     She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, assuming that talking wasn’t the only thing he wanted to do with her. Her mother’s business had taught her that much about men. Short of Bear and Tommy, she’d not met one yet who could be trusted to treat her as a human being. But to be fair, her mother and Bear had taken care to keep her from having direct interaction with too many members of the opposite gender. Nevertheless, the limited contact had not been reassuring.
     “I have been there the past two nights in hopes of meeting you, but you were not there either night. Did Justine tell you about me?”
     Rather than answer, she said, “I find it hard to believe that you were so entranced by me in Hum Yow’s that you have shamelessly been hunting me ever since. You strike me as a proud man.”
     He was a proud man. And he was insulted by her bold response. “‘Shamelessly’ seems an exaggeration.” His pride struck back. “If it was an attraction I felt, I wouldn’t want to speak with you. You are a whore and available at a price much more reasonable than the expense of a conversation, no?”
     She flinched and responded curtly, “Perhaps not.”
     Feeling guilty for having evidently offended her, he tried again. “Of course you are attractive. And I would happily purchase your services. I may yet.”
     She shifted uncomfortably and glanced back at Bear. He still stood behind the bar, but was glaring in their specific direction. His paying customers tried and failed to catch his attention as he undoubtedly was weighing the consequences of letting their conversation continue against the consequences of killing a federal agent.
     “Perhaps not,” she repeated with a touch of disgust in her tone.
     Malone continued, “To be honest, I am not in town to become a parlor house patron. I am in town for business. And I think that you could be a great help to me.” He reached out to gesture at the chair across from him, but accidentally brushed her fingertips with his own.
     He did not hear the slight gasp that she emitted, but found himself briefly distracted by the swift parting of her bright lips. She pulled her hand away as though burned and twisted her hands together uncomfortably. The new color in her cheeks was somehow both arousing and angelic, and Malone found that he—like Artan Murphy—suddenly wanted to protect this young woman. Even if it meant protecting her from himself.
     Cathleen glanced over her shoulder and silently begged her heart to slow down. She could feel the heat in her face and knew that she was humiliating herself. And a swift peek at Bear confirmed that she didn’t have much time to give Agent Malone her message.
     Bear had tossed his towel on the top of the bar and was moving to the opening that would allow him to join his customers on the more popular side of the bar.
     “I am not interested in helping you, Agent Malone,” she whispered quickly.
     “I haven’t even told you of my business,” he protested. He took his eyes off of her for the briefest of moments and concluded that he had only seconds before they were going to be interrupted.
     She, too, concluded that she was nearly out of time. “You are here in hopes of identifying any madams guilty of holding girls against their will or enticing them under false pretenses.”
     He stood silent, stunned by the accuracy of her conclusion.
     “And the reason I cannot help you, Agent Malone, is because my mother is not guilty of any such behaviors. In fact, I am fairly confident that no madam in Butte is guilty of these atrocities.”
     Her gaze was unwavering, a rare quality in a young woman of her age. He could only blame her chosen profession for her bold nature. But he could clearly see that she was serious and believed her claim.
     “Someone in Butte is definitely guilty. I have seen the advertisements myself. And given the nature of your relationship with the Artisan’s madam, you must understand why I can’t simply take your word. We are launching a full investigation of each of the parlor houses on Mercury Street, and some of the crib madams, as well.”
     She met his determined gaze, his warm hazel eyes meeting her gaslight blue ones. To her credit, she didn’t blink.
     A low rumbling caught the attention of both of them. “Cathleen,” Bear growled. “I thought you were waiting in the back.”
     She froze Kane with another look before turning and warmly patting the large man on the arm. “I’m going. I was just telling Agent Malone how fruitless his investigation into my mother is. Alas, he clearly cannot be swayed.”
     She turned on her heel and moved across the room.
     He admired the sway of her hips as she moved, but only until he realized that Artan Murphy was watching him watch her. He cleared his throat briefly. “I apologize for upsetting her.”
     The large beast of a man and the federal agent stared each other down with more ferocity than made sense. Finally, the large man’s stern face broke into a grin. “She’s not upset,” he informed him. “That’s her natural reaction to people.”
     Clearly, Kane concluded, it would take more to convince the stubborn woman to speak with him about her mother’s business. And even if Nora Ainsley was innocent, and that was a big “if,” the advertisement that the Bureau had uncovered suggested that another madam in Butte was guilty of human trafficking.
     He glanced at Murphy and found the large man was still smiling at him.
     “Are you going to kill me now?” he asked with a charming smile.
     Murphy threw his head back and laughed. “I’d like to,” he admitted. “But I honestly think it will be even more fun to watch that girl’s mother get her hands on you. Anything I could do to you would be a leisurely stroll down a sunlit beach compared to being ripped to shreds by Nora Ainsley. Nobody messes with her girls, especially not that one.” He laughed again and shook his head, putting a sympathetic hand on Kane’s shoulder. “Poor bastard.”

The Demimonde Trilogy - Book 1 is FREE!

Daughter of the Demimonde is FREE on Amazon from April 15 - April 18.  I welcome your honest reviews!

http://www.amazon.com/Daughter-Demimonde-The-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B00IZTTPOK