Wine, a Sexy FBI Hunk and Fun with Julie James

by Anna Sugden

... Who could ask for anything more?!

I’m delighted to welcome one of my favourite contemporary romance writers to the Lair, Julie James. If you haven’t come across Julie’s books, where have you been and what are you waiting for?!

Julie pens best-selling contemporary romances that are smart, sexy and laugh-out-loud funny. Featuring delicious heroes and feisty heroines, you won’t be able to put her award-winning books down until you’ve read them from cover to cover.

Her latest release, A Lot Like Love is no exception - I devoured it in one sitting! (But I’ll let Julie tell you all about it *g*)

So, without further ado, let’s give Julie a rousing Lair welcome. Make yourself at home, Julie. Feel free to grab a drink and a cabana boy, gladiator or hockey hunk for your pleasure.

Julie: Thanks for having me here at the Lair! And thank you as well for the nice words about my books! Okay, so let’s see… given the wine backdrop to A Lot Like Love, I’ll grab a glass of Zinfandel and settle in. Feel free to send one of those cabana boys by at any time to take my order. : )

Can you tell us a little about yourself?

Julie: Sure! I’m a lawyer; I practiced law for six years at a large firm before leaving to write full-time. I started my writing career with screenplays, and when the option on my first script expired without the film being made, my film agent suggested that I turn the script into a book. That script then became my first novel, Just the Sexiest Man Alive.

On the personal side, I live in Chicago with my husband and two children—in fact, I just had a daughter four months ago. I took a few months off from writing to spend time with her, but now I’m back up and running and have started writing my next book, which will be about the brother of the heroine in A Lot Like Love.

[Anna: Ooooh - can't wait to see who you're going to pair Kyle with!]

We love call stories in the Lair - can you share yours with us?

Julie: “The Call” came right after my first child, my son, was born. My agent was super-excited (as was I) and said that Berkley wanted to buy my book as part of a two-book deal. She said they wanted to know if I could put together a synopsis for my second book as soon as possible. My first response was, “Um, okay, but can you tell them that I have a ten-day old baby? I can barely find time to shower right now.”

Can you tell us about A Lot Like Love?

Julie: A Lot Like Love is about a wealthy wine store owner who agrees to pose as the girlfriend of an undercover FBI agent (as part of a sting operation) in exchange for her twin brother’s release from prison.

Readers can expect lots of back-and-forth banter, verbal sparring, and an opposites attract dynamic between a sophisticated businesswoman (and billionaire heiress) and a rough-around-the-edges FBI agent from Brooklyn. It’s a fun contemporary romance with a suspense subplot.

Here is an excerpt:

Jordan took a seat at the conference table. She watched the blizzard that raged outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, dreading the snow she’d have to shovel when she got home. Perhaps she should look into getting one of those power snowblowers, she mused. Or a man. Either could be quite handy in inclement weather. Then again, snowblowers took up a lot of garage space, and she generally liked to keep at least a three-foot buffer around the Maserati. Not to mention, most of the men she met presumably had even less interest than she did in shoveling snow—they likely would hire someone else to do that kind of thing. The downside to dating Italian-loafer types, she supposed.

Maybe she needed to find more of a guy’s guy. One of those men who could start a fire with two sticks, change a flat tire with one hand tied behind his back, and wasn’t afraid that a snow shovel would scuff his cashmere-lined leather Burberry gloves.

The door flew open and in walked Nick McCall.

Someone, however, who at least knew what a razor was.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. Rhodes,” he said.

As Huxley followed Nick into the conference room, Jordan noticed that both men had shed their coats. She also saw that they were armed, catching glimpses of the shoulder harnesses and guns they wore underneath their suit jackets.

“What happened to your file?” she asked.

“Would you believe it? We couldn’t find the darn thing,” Nick said. “Guess we’ll just have to march on without it.” He gave Huxley a nod.

“Everything we’re about to tell you is extremely confidential, Ms. Rhodes,” Huxley began. “You can tell no one about the purpose of this meeting.”

Easy enough for her to do, since she didn’t understand the purpose of the meeting. “All right.”

“You already know that this pertains to Xander Eckhart. For some time now, we’ve had him under investigation. We believe he’s running drug money through his nightclubs and restaurants for an organized crime syndicate led by Roberto Martino. You may have heard about the recent indictments of Martino and the others in his organization.” Huxley gave Jordan a moment to process all this.

“You seemed surprised,” Nick said.

She shot him a look. “Of course I’m surprised. I had no idea Xander was messed up in anything like this. You’re sure of this?”

Huxley nodded. “Yes. We’ve been watching Eckhart. We’ve seen him on several occasions with a man we know to be one of Martino’s associates. They meet in Eckhart’s office, which is located underneath the main level of his restaurant, Bordeaux.”

“The one down the hall from his wine cellar, you mean,” Jordan said.

Nick sat forward in his chair, interested in this. “You’ve been inside Eckhart’s office?”

"Yes. Last year at his Valentine’s Day party, he gave me a tour of the entire space at Bordeaux.”

“How well do you remember the interior of the office?” Huxley asked. “Would you be able to describe it, tell us the placement of the furniture, that kind of thing?”

“I can certainly try,” Jordan said. “Is that what this is about? You want me to describe Xander’s office to you?” It seemed too insignificant for all the secret-agent rigmarole.

Nick shook his head. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. What we want is for you to help us get inside Eckhart’s office. This Saturday night.”

It took her a moment. “You mean during the party?”

Nick folded his arms on the table. “How would you feel about bringing along an undercover agent as your date, Ms. Rhodes?”

Jordan leaned in to meet him halfway. “I think that depends on who the date is, Agent McCall.”

You’ve mentioned that you love the old black and white romantic comedy movies. Which ones are your favourites and have inspired you?

Julie: Oh, pretty much anything with Cary Grant. : ) I particularly like His Girl Friday and The Philadelphia Story. I love the back-and-forth verbal sparring between the heroine and hero in those movies.

And since you brought up the subject of older movies… I’d love to hear from everyone else! What’s your favorite black and white romantic comedy, and why?

One lucky commenter will win a copy of the fabulous A Lot Like Love.

After graduating from the University of Illinois College of Law, Julie James clerked for the United States Court of Appeals in Jacksonville, Florida. She then practiced law with one of the nation’s largest law firms for several years until she began writing screenplays. After Hollywood producers optioned two of her scripts, she decided to leave the practice of law to write full-time. Her books have been translated into six languages and Julie’s most recent novel, A Lot Like Love, hit bookstores on March 1st.

To find out more about Julie and her books, or to read an excerpt of A Lot Like Love, visit her at www.juliejames.com . Julie is also featured in the March issue of RT Book Reviews.

My little brother

My little brother Nick held the Unemployment Olympics in April, so, last week, the BBC interviewed him about what it was like to be unemployed in New York. Thanks, Nick! It's cool to see you (and your yellow motorcycle) on camera.

Dad's birthday weekend

My sweets, I'd love to share a few photos of my dad's birthday weekend, if you'd like to see...
We rented a big house on a frozen lake in the Poconos. My aunt, uncle, cousin, sister, brother, brother's girlfriend, and, of course, dad all piled in, and we built fires, played games and made lasagna. We also went for snowy walks (it was surprisingly wintery!).
We brought 60 candles for my dad's cake, plus another 34 candles for my sister's husband, Paul, whose birthday was the same day.
It was quite a feat.
The birthday boys.
The night of my dad's birthday dinner, I made everyone stand behind a chair to take portraits. A little cheesy, I know, but I love them. (Above is Alex, me, my twin sister Lucy, and our little brother Nick.)
Since we're usually squeezed into a tiny New York apartment, it felt awesome to hang out in a sprawling five-bedroom house. Even the sofa was enormous. Here, Alex and Toby chilled on Sunday morning.
(And one of them drooled a lot.)
Toby was visibly thrilled to be in a huge group all weekend. (One morning when I came downstairs after taking a quick shower, he was happily parked on the sofa between my dad and uncle, watching No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain, like a little couch potato. It was hilarious.)
It was such a great, cozy, relaxing weekend, and made me want to do these types of mini family getaways more often! xoxo Happy birthday, again, Paul and Dad! We adore you!

Unemployment Olympics

When my little brother Nick got laid off in February, he wanted to spend time outside with cool people. So he had a madcap idea: Why not hold an Unemployment Olympics? It would be fun and help bring cheer to a tough situation.

Nick made a website, got press, and even went on TV to spread the word. (He did this all on his own without asking for any help--my family was gobsmacked!)

Yesterday was the big day, when a huge crowd of unemployed New Yorkers came to an East Village park to run in a "You're Fired Race," play "Pin the Blame on the Boss" and "Office Phone Skee Ball," and smash a pinata full of PayDay candy bars.

Congratulations, Nick, yesterday was awesome! I'm so amazed by you! Read about it in today's New York Times and Gothamist and other papers; plus, adorable interviews in Time Out and (on video) CNN, the Associated Press and Time Magazine. I'm a very proud (and giggling) big sis!

Happy birthday, Nick!

Happy birthday to Nick, the best little brother ever. He'll tell you jokes ("What's brown and sticky?" "A stick!"), take you on evening biking adventures and bring you cashews when you're sad. I love you, Nick, and I'm excited to hang tonight!

Wedding: The Reception

Finally, the reception. First, our guests had cocktails and hors devours in the Reading Room, which was filled with leather club chairs and a giant fireplace--and the ceiling looked like it was straight out of Versailles! Alex was so enamored of the aesthetic that he now wants our apartment to look like a dimly lit social club.
Then we headed upstairs for dinner. We wanted to create a relaxed vibe (and keep the budget reasonable), so we served a Mediterranean buffet--including lamb kabobs, grilled vegetables, cheesy pasta with vodka sauce, and caprese salad--and we didn't do assigned seating. Miraculously, people all ended up sitting with their good friends, and the tables worked out perfectly. (Whew!) Alex and I fall into the small category of People Who Don't Like Cake, so we served homemade cookies for dessert, made by my mom and the fabulous Perl Girl Baking Co. (P.S. Can you spot the two fascinators in the photo above? So cute!)
During dinner, our friends and siblings gave toasts. Alex's friend Brad talked about their early days in New York (where they shared a miniature apartment with a stalker across the hall), Alex's sister Lesley wrote a beautiful poem, my sister Lucy spoke about love and imagination, and Alex's brother Scott gave a funny toast full of California slang (including the line, "Dude, you totally scored.") But the big twist of the evening came when my little brother Nick gave his entire toast in a pitch-perfect New Zealand accent. No joke! The crowd was on fire!
Next up was a slideshow by our beloved friend gullar sahir. He put together baby photos, family snapshots...and embarrassing pictures of us in junior high. He had stalked our friends and relatives all summer to get anecdotes about our lives (e.g., Alex's imaginary friend, Steve), and he wrote a cheeky speech to go along with the photos. It was hilarious, touching and wonderful.
After dinner, we moved into the next room for dancing. Our good friend Maz was our DJ, and we played the Velvet Underground's "I'll Be Your Mirror" for our first dance. (Runners up were "I Don't Wanna" by Patsy Cline and "I Can't Help Falling in Love with You" by Elvis.) We had taken a fox trot class over the summer, but suddenly got nervous, and just danced like 7th graders. Luckily, the audience didn't seem to mind.
And then everyone danced the night away. The star of the show was our redheaded flower girl, Grace, who had so many cool moves! (Click on the photo to enlarge, if you'd like; she's ridiculously cute.)

Next up: The favors and the brunch, and that's it! Thank you so much for indulging me :) xoxo

(Photos by Max Wanger)

One billion seconds

This weekend, my brother Nick emailed my twin sister and me to congratulate us for reaching exactly one billion seconds! A billion seconds, he told us, equals 31 years, 259 days, 1 hour, 46 minutes and 40 seconds. I love how, true to form, Nick adjusted for daylight savings, leap years and time zones. :)

P.S. Can you guess how long one million seconds is? Answer in the comments below...

(Photo by Maple Syrup Only)

My brother, the bedbug

In yesterday's gift guide, I described my brother Nick as riding a yellow motorcycle and dressing as a bedbug for Halloween. So I thought I'd share these photos from last Halloween, when he rode to work in full costume!! The feet kill me.

P.S. His girlfriend dressed up as a mattress!

Nick has a stash.

My brother Nick lost a dare to his dollface BFF Sarah Wilson and now has to grow a moustache until June 9th. I actually think it looks pretty rad.

Christmastime, Don't Drink the Milk

I think I'm slowing down.

I'm still trying to do everything, but my energy and need to do so has greatly lowered. It's as if I am growing tired. Dr. G might be right. The Abilify needs time to seep into my system. As it does so, I slow down. OR maybe I just had a shitty nap a few minutes ago. Yeah, I was dreaming a very clear dream and my eyes opened as if I had them closed in my dream first. I got up dizzy and achy, with a tremendous dry mouth.

I was also tired. Bone weary tiredness, the likes I have not encoun- tered in weeks. I can't concen- trate either. Not creative at all. I'm scrambled brained. I took a nap and woke up fucked up. I wonder what is going on. My speed is gone, but I still feel a faint sense of urgency. I need my energy back.  I need my creativity back. I'm dragging ass, and I hate when that happens, because when you live a slipping downlife, this shit can become critical. Some deep ass depression is raging it's way towards me. I might choke up on the Abilify if this keeps up.

I'm still capable of blogging heavily though. Productivity may be slower but not slack. I'm cranking out shit, just not frantically. My AADD and OCD with PTSD, coupled with DID is not gone, so the mania is not either, just tempered. I think I'm not explaining it too well, but what the HELL. I'm not stable! Why should I explain shit clearly? What I do know is that I have such a back log of posts to this blog, that I have resorted to 'scheduling' them for posting. I didn't know I could do that before.

It's like an autopilot for the blog. I write a post, and schedule it. When the time comes, the blog updates itself on-time, every-time. I have them all lined up like ducks in a pond, ready to drop like flies. So, just for you out there that can't get enough, fast enough, the blog will now post every night at 12:15 AM. More insanity every day on-time, every-time. Funny too, since I've cranked up on my posts like a man on crack, my hits have blown through the roof. Every day, I'm averaging back into the twenties and thirties. I haven't had this kind of hit rate since the damn radio show.

Not that this is important to me, it's just inter- esting. I mean, I used to write this blog when there were less than five people that used to read it. Funny right? I was a mad hatter back then too. Not taking my meds, not cutting down on my drinking, not doing well at all...but I blogged like I was losing my mind. I love to blog, and I love being intimate. Telling about all of my secret shit. So much so that I no longer have any secrets from my readers. Well, maybe I do, 'cause I never said that I did not lie. So if I tell you I have no secrets, then that's a lie. But if that's a lie, because I'm a liar, then I have secrets. And if I have secrets, I just proved that I'm a liar and you don't know, or will ever know the truth. And that means I don't have any secrets if you don't know that, does it? Wrap your head around that one.

Yeah, it's confusing to me too. If I told you that I didn't know what the fuck I was talking about in that last paragraph, would you believe me? Probably, right? So, moving on. I'm down to my last episode on my screenplay, and now, it's become tremendously more difficult, because I'm trying to write satisfying endings. It's hard to write a conclusion, and when you have a half dozen separate storylines, it' HELL to finish with a season finale. I feel for writers that have to do this regularly.

Well, it's Christmas time. That must be why I'm dragging myself over coals. Everybody is making merry at this time of the year. Going shopping for loved ones, planning to visit friends and family. Buying that fat assed turkey and ham for Christmas dinner. Even the kids are starry-eyed. I used to be that way. I was going to buy a little tree for my room. I didn't know that those guys in lots and on the streets that sell Christmas trees can make a desktop Christmas tree for five bucks. I walked by and looked at a bunch of them. I mean, they couldn't pass for Bonsai trees, but they did look like Christmas.

I was going to buy one, but what could I find to adorn it with? Could I use mini- ornaments, and a mini-star. Maybe a mini-family to sit around it, and mini-gifts in front of a mini-fireplace, with mini-bills on the mini-desk in the mini-den of their mini-house that is going in mini-foreclosure, in a mini-town where the mini-jobs are drying up and mini-people are lined up in mini-unemployment lines and mini-soup kitchens. And I, well I envision myself as the mini-hobo, on the mini-street, with no pants on. Well at least my dick will be to scale with my mini-body for a change.

But all that went into my mind as I stood in front of these sidewalk guys with the rows of Christmas trees on the curb and one of the sales guys came up to me with a big, whole- some, Christmasy grin and asked, "Are you interested in our mini-trees?" And I screamed back at him, "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! ARRRRGH!" and ran down the street. That's my Christmas greeting. I don't think Ebeneezer Scrooge has anything on me. But don't get me wrong, I love Christmas because I understand it.

It has absolutely nothing to do with Christ Jesus. I mean, what the fuck is the tree about? Did Christ ever even SEE a fucking pine tree out in Palestine in his entire life? I don't know. Or when did he pass around gifts in wrapped boxes? During the Sermon on the Mount? And what the fuck is up with Saint Nick? Was he one of the 15 Apostles? He just didn't get the dinner engagement invitation to the Last Supper? Was Mrs Claus being a bitch that night and kept him from hanging out with the boys?

What does these things have to do with the baby in the manger? ABSO- LUTELY NOTHING. When you understand that then you understand that it all has to do with PAGAN worship. Awww, fuck it then. Who really cares? I like it, so at times I get into it. Yeah, I buy presents when I can afford it. And best of all, I buy Mistletoe and put a fishing rod on a back harness, and dangle the mistletoe over my head as I walk down the street, fishing for kisses from the young women walking by. Shit, how UN-CREATIVE can you be at Christmas time anyway when people are in the spirit of giving, especially women? Now if I invented the tradition of kissing someone underneath the mistletoe, you could bet that it wouldn't stop there. I would have it that you can also cop a feel and get a blow job under the mistletoe too! Ohhh, c'mon!!! You HAD to see that  one comin' from a MILE away or you're just not familiar with this blog yet!

Christ- mas... I love it. I can't wait for snow, and snowball fights. Have you ever had 'loaded' snow ball fights at Christmas time? Its a Christian type of game that you play when you are between the ages of 13 -15 where you 'load' snowballs. You find cool things like a big rock, or a piece of shit, or a golfball, or my personal favorite, piss, and you build a snowball around it and throw it at people's faces. It's more fun when you pelt innocent passerby. Especially older people, when they get clocked by a rock or sumpin'  you don't have to run as hard and long to keep them from beating your ass. Now THAT's the Christmas spirit!

Oh Christmas. I look fondly up into the air, dreaming about this time of the year. It's just wonderful. One year, I remembered, when I was busy drinking my paycheck away... this was after my wife left me one day out of the clear blue sky. I came home and she was gone. Simple math. But people kept sending me fucking Christmas presents. I would look into my wallet and if I found money, it always translated to alcohol. I mean, I stopped seeing cash, but instead their alcoholic equivalent. Five dollars, a half pint in a liquor store, or a shot at the bar; ten dollars, a pint or two drinks; twenty dollars, a quart of vodka or five drinks at the bar. So on and so forth. So when I looked into my wallet and saw two pints of vodka, a quart of scotch and three shots of tequila, you knew that I wasn't going to buy any Christmas presents.

But then the thought of what I thought Ol' Saint Nick was doing intrigued me. That fat bastard had Elves slaving all year for him, making fucking stupid wooden Christmas toys. Now I ask you, how many kids do you think get WOODEN FUCKING TOYS for Christmas? NO, they want Playstations, and Ipods, and Ipads and MP3 players and shit like that. So what the fuck is going on here? Have the elves been sent back to college to re-career? Fuck no. That old bastard knows that if they upgraded their skills they would leave the freezing North Pole for California or Florida, check out hot babes in bikinis, and get laid!

So no. Saint Nick doesn't do that. He's craftier than that. Just think, where do all those wooden toys go? Well, the answer lies in the electronic toys that kids get now. Under them there is usually a sticker that reads, Made in China, Made in Taiwan, Made in Indonesia, Malaysia, blah, blah, blah. THAT's where those wooden toys are going!! Satan Claus sends the wooden toys to these third world nations who believe that they are cool because they come from anywhere other than there (kind of like their substandard drugs from our drug companies), and besides, many of these countries don't even have power or computers to run these fucking things. Wooden toys never need batteries...right? And in return, they send Claus crates of shit made in their country...electronics!

St. Nick then gives all that shit to the kids in this country. Satan Claus was the first to discover RE-GIFTING! Yeah, think about it. Be a Christmas hero and don't pay a dime. When people from your town sends you gifts you switch the cards with the gifts from your friends from out of town and then send them back out. You don't have to buy shit! And everyone gets a slice of happy!

Then like me, you get invited to all the Christmas parties where you can hang Mistletoe from a fishing rod over your head and go up to all the women and after a kiss, cop a feel. And the hotter ones, take them out back behind the garbage cans, and piles of empty boxes with Christmas wrappings for her to get a taste of my candy cane. Ahhhh, the joys of Christmas. You gotta love it.

Well, that's my slipping downlife as a hobo. You have to enjoy whatever it is that you get in life. Sometimes you get the most incredible things in the most impossible of places. Trust me, I'm a hobo and I've seen miracles happen, especially around Christmastime.

So love your brother, but love yourself even more this season.
Peace to the world!


Hobobob