1. What
do you wish men understood about women?
That we can value our
independence, yet still need a strong, steady male shoulder to lean on.
2. Do
you only work on one book at a time?
I tend to direct the
majority of my focus on one while dabbling in other projects. Just that bit of
variety breaks the routine and keeps the creative juices flowing.
3. Who
is your favorite fictional couple?
My new favorite
fictional couple is Reagan and Derek from Jasinda and Jack Wilder’s Captured.
I love perfectly imperfect characters and stories packed with heart, hope and
heat!
4. Favorite
TV show?
Hell’s
Kitchen for badass Chef Ramsay and Scandal
for smutty drama.
5. Do
you set daily writing goals? Word count? Number of chapters? Do you get a
chance to write every day?
Hm…goals might be a
stretch, but I try to write something every day. I don’t do well with too much
structure…my muse is more of a go-with-the-flow kind of girl.
6. Who
was the last person you hugged?
My 12-year-old
daughter, J. She’s a riot. Fun-loving, silly and very huggable.
7. What
are you working on now?
Mostly A Naked Beauty, the
conclusion to Fat Girl. However, I’m itching to tell Jordyn’s and
Lexie’s stories. They are Dee’s friends, introduced in Fat Girl. Jordyn
is fun to write. I love her feistiness. She will definitely meet her match in Color
Blind.
Fat Girl by Leigh Carron
Genre: Romance (Contemporary, Steamy, Adult Content)
About Fat Girl: Years after fleeing small-town
Springvale, Illinois, Deanna Chase has picked up the pieces of her
shattered heart and built a new life for herself as a child advocacy
lawyer. Her food addiction is quasi under control, her secrets are buried,
and she has even made a tenuous peace with her plus-size body. Until…
Micah Peters—the very sexy and now famous man
she fled— walks through her office door and sends Dee reeling. His
demand that she help a young boy caught in a custody battle will
reunite her with the past she left behind.
Torn between duty and
self-preservation, Dee isn’t easy to convince. But when obligation wins,
the former lovers get more than they bargained for—a searing
passion that burns hotter than ever and startling revelations about
what really happened the fateful night she left.
Will the truth set Dee free to love again? Or will
past hurts and lingering insecurities destine her to walk away from her
heart again, this time for good?
Fat Girl is the first book in this
provocative two-part series about love and self-acceptance.
Praise
for Fat Girl
“This was one HOT, emotional, and
all-around EXCELLENT contemporary romance!” — Romance Novel Giveaways
“This
is one of those books that sucks you in and keeps your interest until the very
end.” —Jodie's W.I.N.E. List
“This
was a refreshing, real story that had me captivated from the first page. Dee
and Mick were wonderful characters full of real flaws, real strengths and real
passion.” — Beth S
“A
brilliantly written, steamy, sexy, thought-provokingly wonderful novel.” —
Olivia P
About
Me: An
American living in Canada. Chocolate snob. Recovering yo-yo dieter. Devoted mom
and wife, blessed with a brilliantly witty daughter and unintentionally
humorous husband. My wacky family feed my creativity and fuel my passion. Most
nights, you will find me either curled up with a great book or, more often,
sitting at my computer, tapping out the countless visions in my head.
To me, there is nothing better in a narrative than
perfectly flawed but strong characters and intense romance that is sexy, deep, and
sensual. Mm…I liken such stories to a box of Godiva. Decadent and delicious!
You can’t stop at just one. In fact, I’m now hard at work on my next novel—A Naked Beauty, the conclusion to Fat Girl.
Stay Connected at:
Twitter:@LeighCarron
Giveaway: An ecopy of Fat Girl at each stop, and
four tour prizes: 1) A signed paperback copy of Fat Girl , bookmark, and $20 Visa gift card, 2)
a $15 Amazon gift card, 3) $10 Body Shop gift card, and 4) $10 Starbucks gift
card.
Rafflecopter Code: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/e561a37435/
Excerpt
#2: (PG)
The click of the front door, followed by the report of
heavy footsteps, breaks my concentration.
My first thought: definitely male. My second: I’m not
expecting anyone and walk-ins are rare. As I begin to rise from behind my desk,
the thud of leather soles on the hardwood comes to a halt. Ah. My heart settles. Whoever is out there must see the toy box and
Wii console in the waiting area, and realize he’s wandered into the wrong
office loft. It happens sometimes. Even with Deeana Chase, Child Advocacy
Services, embossed on the glass.
Lowering myself back into my chair, I’m about to return
to the case I’ve spent the past hour prepping for mediation, except there are
no sounds of retreat. I cock an ear and listen. Nothing. My nerves begin to
buzz again as my mind swings back to something Lena, my assistant, said before
she left for the day. A man called to ask if I would be in this evening but
wouldn’t disclose his name or purpose. Strange for sure and I should have
locked up. A rule I set for both Lena and myself when either of us was working
alone. But, true to form, preoccupation with a case took over and I forgot. Now
I wish I’d been more vigilant.
Imagination racing in time with my rapid pulse, I pull a
can of pepper spray out of my purse and, slipping off three-inch heels,
silently move across my office. I’m cautious by design, though rarely this
jumpy. The only logical explanation is that last night I stayed up late
watching The Deliberate Stranger, an
old movie about a notorious serial killer who lured his victims with charm and
good looks. In hindsight, probably not the type of program a woman living on
her own should watch. But having worked in Chicago for all of my adult life
without encountering a problem, I feel relatively safe here.
Still…
I angle my head and peer around the doorway into the
reception area. The man standing with his back to me is partially concealed by
a giant leafy ficus, but the parts of him I can see are impressively built. He
has to be more than six feet, judging by the bit of dark hair peeking just
above the leaves. And he’s broad and muscular, if the way one shoulder fills
out half of a black leather jacket and one rounded butt cheek flatters
blue-washed denim are any indication. Under different circumstances I might
enjoy the view, but all I’m thinking is his fine ass isn’t going to matter much
if he’s another Ted Bundy.
In sheer masculine volume, this Adonis would have no
trouble taking me and my extra weight down without breaking a sweat. I tighten
my grip on the metal trigger with a good notion to spray first and ask
questions later.
Fortunately, logic kicks in before my imagination spins
further out of control. Would any man intent on harm stand there all this time
studying the corkboard on which I proudly display cards and drawings from my
young clients? The rational answer is no.
I take a deep breath and chide myself for being
ridiculous. “May I help you?” I ask, moving into the open doorway.
There’s a pause—a noticeable hesitation—before he steps
from behind the plant and slowly pivots.
I know even before our eyes meet.
My breath stutters.
I freeze.
And the can falls from my numb fingers.
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