That spun off to my highly rated Fierce series, which I knew from the first outline was going to be told in three books.
I'm also planning a new trilogy featuring a triangle with two powerful, rich brothers for release in 2014. How I plan to do that should get people talking, but that's a blog for another time. Suffice it to say, series are a great way to spread one's wings and explore so many different subplots and recurring and supporting characters. In fact, the first novel I ever wrote had enough story outlined to be told in three books. I love having the room to gallop. It's one of the reasons I always leave the book on a hopeful note that the story could continue, though generally speaking I've resolved that book's plot and the story is complete. If there's enough fan interest, however, any book could become a series. And I really like the idea of that.
Granted, many people have a love-to-hate-it attitude when it comes to series. Most of the time this is because you have to wait so long for resolution to the story, in particular the Happily Ever After (or HEA.) It has a lot more power when it does come after it took two, three or even five books to get there, but as long as there is a series in play, the HEA is generally the carrot on the stick for you to keep reading and keep buying books.
When I realized that Groupie was going to spawn additional books, and in effect end on a rather unapologetic cliffhanger, I started researching how well series romance is received, since most of what I published beforehand were stand-alone novels with the room to grow if there was ever a demand. Even though I got the occasional request to tell a story beyond the one book, I figured many were not too pro on the idea of a series because of the postponed HEA. However, as far as best-sellers go, series were the ones topping the charts. A casual glance at the current NYT Best Seller list shows Unlocked by Maya Cross at #10, which is the third book in that particular trilogy.
Bringing up the rear at #20 is E.L. James and Fifty Shades of Grey. Twilight, Harry Potter, and more best-selling romances than I can shake a stick at finally convinced me to give the series a try.
Remarkably, and unexpectedly, Groupie offered me moderate success. I broke into the Amazon best-selling lists after the release of the second book in 2012. Despite the fact I released the first book in 2011, in fact nearly two years ago, it continues to be my biggest seller, surpassing even new releases. The first book, Groupie, has sold at least ten times that of my top-selling stand-alone romances.
I'm as surprised as you are, frankly. I thought for sure I'd go down in flames by breaking up the story into three books and throwing my characters in the blender of my twisted psyche and hitting "Frappe." That so many people love these characters is mind-boggling. That so many people want more and more of these characters, even more mind-boggling still. That is one of the perks of writing the Fierce trilogy, because I get to hang out with Vanni and Andy beyond their happily ever after... when they're actually, y'know, happy.
They don't have be dragged through the muck. It's not their story anymore. They can actually make smart choices and we can love them fully and truly.
It's awesome.
It's awesome to write happy, lighter stuff, especially after spending the last 5 books I've written in gut-twisting angst. To put that in perspective, that's nearly a half a million words that turned my emotions upside down way before I hit the "publish" button. I still have about 70k to go before I put this second trilogy to bed, and I just needed a break.
I needed a story that stood alone. I could have written an erotic horror, which I went to Connecticut to research earlier this year. I could have written a couple of screenplay ideas that were either heartwarming or comedic (or both.)
I decided instead that I needed a fun novel, a sexy novel... one that didn't take itself too seriously, one that wasn't out to make a social statement or change the world (like I hope Fierce will do.) I wanted a sexy alpha male and a bitchy, unlikable heroine he could put into her place. And I wanted, most of all, to be done with it. No cliffhangers, no waiting to see how it all shakes loose in book #3. One and done, folks. This is it. Whether we hit a HEA or a HFN or nothing at all, this is the story in its entirety, as authentic as I can write it.
The Undisciplined Bride is the titillating tale of power-swapping seduction with ambiguous morality. A frustrated socialite bridezilla named Peyton meets a working-class chef named Mateo, and sparks instantly fly. These two people aren't interested in falling in love, but they can't WAIT to fall into bed. Their antagonism toward each other fuels this fire. While I'm not one to write a true BDSM novel, I definitely get off on the dual domination that comes from two powerful titans out to best the other throughout the chase. Neither are nervous virgins who lack any self-esteem. These are two hot-blooded people who hunger for each other in the truest, rawest way possible. Who will win? It's anyone's game.
Here's an excerpt:
Each minute ticked audibly by and no one, from her parents to her best friend to her fucking fiancé, came to see what was wrong. It made Peyton even angrier and more petulant as each passing moment stole a little more thunder from her hissy fit. With a scowl, she plopped down onto a stone bench and preened to listen in to the riotous laughter coming from her parents’ formal dining room.
They were all having the time of their lives… without her.
She hopped up and began to pace again, only this time all she could see were those dark eyes that twinkled whenever they danced brazenly over her like a piece of meat. Electricity surged through her as she thought about how innocently he brushed against her when they stood beside his food van. And this thought led to the memory of how he looked in a tight pair of jeans and no shirt… like a bronze Adonis that looked more at home among the statues in her mother’s gardens than the wait staff in the kitchen.
After another involuntary shudder, she cornered another server. “Do you have a cigarette?”
“I do,” a deep, masculine voice said from behind. She whirled around to find Mateo leaning against the open door frame in his tuxedo like some leading man from a move from the golden age. She watched his hand reach deep into his pants pocket to withdraw a pack. His fingers were long and strong as he withdrew a cigarette for her, offering it just a few paces away from where she stood, making her cross the final steps between them.
She snatched it from his hand and he had the nerve to chuckle. “What’s so funny?” she demanded.
“You don’t strike me as the kind of person who smokes,” he shrugged. His eyes fell on her mouth as she put the cigarette between her lips.
For a split second all the humor was gone. Instead Peyton saw something else there… something she could control. She saw his hunger. With a slow smile she met his eyes and said, “I guess I have an oral fixation.” To her delight his eyes darkened. “Have a light?”
He withdrew a lighter and this time he closed the scant inches between them to light her cigarette. He watched her suck in a breath as his eyes locked on her mouth. “So what did you think of the food?” he asked softly. "You left in such a hurry," he added with a teasing smile.
She shrugged. “I don’t see what the big deal is, personally,” she offered evilly. The food had been exceptional, but there was no way in hell she’d let him know that.
He chuckled again, the warm sound of his rich, deep laugh tumbled across her senses. “Guess we’ll have to do better next time.”
Her perfectly tweezed eyebrow arched. “What makes you think there will be a next time?”
It was his turn to shrug. “Just a hunch,” he said. His eyelids drooped lazily as he inspected her. “You don’t seem like a woman who will give up on anything until she’s completely satisfied.”
Her chin jutted out. “You’ve got that right, at least.”
His eyes traveled over her face, then down across the exposed skin of her chest and arms. “Damn shame you have gone unfulfilled for such a long time already,” he said softly.
She gulped. “What is that supposed to mean?”
His voice was quiet but powerful. There was a cadence to his speech, as though he was striking every word with a hammer. The softer the words, the harder the hit. “You tell me. When is the last time someone fully met every aching need?” He wanted to know as he stepped closer. “I’ll bet never. And that’s why you’re so pissed off, isn’t it, Princess? You can have everything you want… yet, you never have.”
She shuddered despite herself. “You have a lot of nerve talking to me like that. Don’t you know I could have you fired?”
He stepped even closer, until their bodies were a breath apart. “But you won’t.”
She glared at him. “You’re a cocky son of a bitch, aren’t you?”
Before she realized what was happening his arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her to his rigid body. “You tell me.”
Her brain scrambled as he manhandled her. His grip was strong and true, and if she struggled she would feel every inch of his hard body contained in that fine tuxedo. “Let me go,” she gritted between clenched teeth.
His face was next to hers, his mouth mere inches from her ear. “Is that what you want, princess?” His hand slipped down from her waist over the graceful curve of her ass.
It was inappropriate as hell, and no one – absolutely no one – had ever treated her in such a disrespectful manner. Instead of the anger she would normally feel, for one insane moment she was tempted to reach the remaining inch between them and crash her mouth against his, to taste the raw hunger of this stranger’s kiss once and for all.
Her eyes widened as she pushed against that rigid chest, rippling with muscles she had never experienced so close before. “Fuck you,” she breathed as she stumbled away. She nearly lost her footing and it was Mateo who prevented her from landing face first on the hard concrete.
“Maybe someday,” he said with that same damnable smirk. “But not today.”
With that he left her alone on the terrace as he disappeared back into the kitchen. She nearly snarled with rage as she tossed the cigarette off onto darkness.
Needless to say, I'm having a LOT of fun writing their story, especially since in my head, Mateo looks like this:
And you know I never make you wait for long. So save the date, because we're serving this stand-alone on October 1st. #lickyourlips #Mateoiscoming
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