Spotlight & Giveaway: A Fast Woman by Laralyn Doran

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Laralyn Doran to HJ!

Hi Laralyn and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, A Fast Woman!

 
Hi there–I’m excited to be here!
 

Please summarize the book for the readers here:

“A Fast Woman” is an enemies-to-lovers contemporary racing romance. CJ Lomax is an ambitious woman-driver clawing her way through the stock car circuit with one goal—reaching the Cup series. When there is an opening in her team, everyone assumes it’s her time—until Grady McBane arrives. As a disgraced Indy champion, with his charm and celebrity status, McBane is a marketing dream. Since the season has already started, it’s decided the two drivers will compete in a separate competition by alternating races throughout the remainder of the season. Whoever has the best record gets the coveted contract for the next season.
However, they find it difficult to keep their eyes on the prize and off each other. Grady spends more time chasing CJ, than trying to beat her. CJ’s focus is no where to be found, and she finds that’s…unnerving.
Flying down the backstretch of the season, they are dodging the media, ex-lovers, and a jealous rival with a target on CJ’s back, while crashing into love, and trying to avoid wrecking their careers.
 

Please share your favorite line(s) or quote from this book:

She stood, looked down at me straight in the eye and I swore my heart skipped a beat. “Sorry, Casanova, you better strap in. You’re in for the ride of your life.”
She held out her hand. I stood and took it. Nerves in my body came alive at the contact of her touch.
This was it. This was the photo op.
“May the best man win,” someone shouted.
“No.” She gave me a devastating smile, and then shared it with the room. “May the best driver.”

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

• Everyone will think they know who CJ is based off of—they’re wrong. She was actually inspired by a young, up-and-coming woman driver who hasn’t even hit the Cup Series yet. I saw a photo of her and thought, “What must it be like to be 16 and be surrounded by a bunch of guys? What happened when she beat them?” Because she WAS beating them. However, CJ was developed over time from a series of different women–in and out of racing.
• Another fun fact is, I dragged some of my high school friends to Charlotte Motor Speedway as part of our girls trip and we rode on the actual track. They loved it! You can imagine a handful of middle-age women, who have never even watched a race, in a minivan doing 60 mph, thinking it was 160 mph, around the track with 24 degree bank turns–it was a comedy, but so memorable!

What first attracts your Hero to the Heroine and vice versa?

At first its physical, but there is the rivalry when their identities are revealed and they try to push the attraction aside. It’s enriched with the respect they develop for each other as competitors and in knowing they are both pawns. Grady appreciates CJ’s tough exterior and her single-minded determination—something he’s never been able to maintain. CJ refuses to recognize that something is missing in her life, and Grady’s arrival spotlights that void. They are each other’s key—to happiness and to failure.

Did any scene have you blushing, crying or laughing while writing it? And Why?

Without giving away anything, I’d say my biggest emotional response comes at the end. I almost flew out of my chair when I wrote it. It came to me organically and set the tone for the rest of the series. I can’t give you a quote from that scene without giving anything away. But this leads off the scene and the sassy tone made me smile because I completely saw it play out in my head–and its so CJ.

“Have a good race, boys.” I adjusted my mirrored aviator sunglasses. With the flick of my ponytail, and the sashay of my hips, I reminded him I was a woman in a racing suit, walking with confidence to a starting position in front of theirs. “See ya’ll in my rearview mirror, boys.”

I’ll admit the cheering for her, because the boys deserved it.

Readers should read this book….

This is a sports romance, a racing romance, but with a twist—a woman driver. There aren’t many sports where women and men compete against each other on the same level playing field (or track). Women have been in auto racing since the beginning, but never recognized, or sponsored as well as men—it wasn’t until recently that they started to get noticed more. It’s why a romance in this setting is so yummy! This story is man vs. woman at 200 mph, with tons conflict and laced with chemistry.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have in the works?

My next release will be Book 2 in The Driven Women Series. I’m not releasing the name of the second book yet but it will be about Harper, CJ’s best friend. I promise by the end of Book 1 you will get a kick out of what Book 2 will involve.
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: $10 Amazon gift card and e-book copy of “A Fast Woman”

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: While writing “A Fast Woman”, I listened to a wide variety of music–women rockers, country, hip hop, and classic rock anthems–songs that would be fun listening to while driving–fast! I need new ideas for my playlist while working on the rest of the series! What are some fun songs/artists that get your heart, fists or adrenaline pumping?

 
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Excerpt from A Fast Woman:

“Just wait until it’s my birthday.” I glared at my best friend, Harper Merrick, while I simultaneously tried to conjure more material out of the slip of a cocktail dress she’d shoved on me. I swear it shrank since I started walking down the street, and I worried I was flashing the couple behind us.

“Why would you want to spend tonight with a bunch of suits, instead of going out to celebrate your birthday? Hell, I’d be willing to do a wine bar or something—why are you doing this to me?” I tugged on the hem and double-checked none of my assets had popped out of the top.

Harper strode down Charlotte’s city streets in take-charge stilettos, typing something on her phone, dodging pedestrian traffic, and ignoring my fidgeting. “We have a quick meet and greet. I know an agent who is in town with an executive with Prince Automotive, and they want to meet for a drink. I’ll do the talking.
“Fine.” I was resigned to my fate and focused on keeping pace with her lengthy strides. “It’s your birthday.”

“Stop squirming.” Well, she wasn’t ignoring me completely, I guess.

Harper and I had been best friends since our mothers put us on a blanket together as toddlers and I ran over her baby-doll with her brother’s Tonka truck.

“Payback, Harper…I have a few months to plot my revenge.”

“All I did was curl your hair, throw on some make-up and…” she slowed her stride to take an appraising gaze over me—pride in her latest project. “I’m sorry but seeing you in that dress and shoes will be worth any retribution.”

She refocused on the street ahead of us. “You act like I’m asking you to walk through Dante’s nine rings of hell.”

I concentrated on the pavement in front of me, making sure I didn’t get a closer view of it by tripping in my four-inch platform Louboutin heels—they were also her idea and should come with a liability option. “I’m only at the seventh level. Eight and nine would occur if my crew caught me in this get-up.”

“Your crew wouldn’t recognize you,” she said.

I didn’t have time to react before the flash of her phone went off and she was able to capture the moment for posterity—or blackmail.

Harper typed something on her phone as her long, memorable legs strode down the sidewalk. Hinting at the drop-dead smile she easily employed, she said, “You get so caught up in being a woman in a man’s world, that I think you forget that you are a woman.”

She was also the closest thing I had to a sister, and the most beautiful woman I knew. But what made Harper unique was while she knew how to capitalize on her looks, she didn’t define herself by them.

Harper and I each had our own individual strengths. This—men, make-up, marketing—this was her arena. Anything to do with machines, metal and motor oil—that was mine.

Putting me in a short skirt, four-inch heels and telling me to be charming, was like putting Harper in a fire-retardant suit, putting her in a car going one-hundred-ninety mph with forty-two other drivers and telling her not to wreck.

“If I believed you wanted to be an obscure driver, I’d leave you alone. But, I don’t. I think since Tommy died, you’ve hidden behind the wheel of a race car because it was simple, and, for you, it was safe. It’s time to come out and show the world you have boobs and curves, and embrace the fact that you are, in fact, a woman.”

Harper stopped, opened her purse to put her phone away. “Besides, if you’re serious about wanting to be a Cup driver, a full-time Cup driver, you have to get serious about your image.”

I closed my eyes and groaned, “Please, don’t start with that again.” Harper had on her game face and her public-relations-professional-marketing-guru hat.

“You have to use your assets. You’re beautiful. I’m sorry, I know you hate hearing this, but it’s true. Part of this industry is sponsorship and marketing. Sponsors are the businesses that pay your salary. They’re the bread and butter of racing. They pay for the parts, the tires, the best mechanics, everything this industry needs to survive. If you don’t have sponsors, you don’t race.” She straightened and began walking again, signaling for me to follow.

“You’re starting to sound more like your father,” I grumbled. Her father was my boss, the man holding my future in his hand, Everett Merrick. It was complicated at times, but we made it work.

She ignored me. We rounded the corner and reached our destination, a swanky, upscale bar and restaurant. “Do you honestly think if Gus was a driver, I wouldn’t be putting him in board shorts and lathering him with oil on a beach, or in an expensive three-piece suit with a leggy blonde draped over him to sell watches? I would in a heartbeat, and he’d have sponsors throwing money at the team.”

Gus’s nickname was GQ, because even hungover he looked like he walked off the cover of the magazine. “Hell, I still may do that.” She stared off; her eyes gleamed with a thought that didn’t bode well for Gus’s modesty.

I straightened to protest. “Harper—”

“Alright, fine. One project at a time.” Indicating I was the project, she reached for the door and gestured me inside. “Be good.”

#

I played nice.

I smiled, and nodded, and did everything Harper asked of me for sixty-two excruciating minutes.

I dealt with stroking their egos and the name dropping.

I met Chase Dermott, an executive from Prince Automotive, and Jordan Darcy, Harper’s friend who introduced us. Both were what I expected business executives at a swanky bar to look like. Prettier and better groomed than I would be—ever.

Dermott’s hair was jet black and perfectly combed back with enough product to keep it in place but not look slick. Darcy was slightly taller, with indistinguishable brown, but perfectly tousled, hair and a handsome-enough face. I didn’t know much about suits, but they were well-fitted, and they wore them confidently.

Occasionally, Harper glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, as she did an excellent job directing the conversation, feminine yet with an air of authority. She knew I was plotting her death. If there was one thing I didn’t tolerate, it was sitting still and being quiet.

Chase Dermott crowded my space, draping a hand over my chair and behind my back.

“CJ, may I call you Charlotte? CJ is such a masculine name for such a beautiful woman.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but he didn’t bother waiting for my permission. “Charlotte, I have a real good feeling about you. Of course, I need time to consider

things.” His other hand moved to just above my knee under the table and he leaned in closer. “But I’d like to continue to talk about the possibility of Prince Automotive being involved in your ascent into the Cup series.”

His hand burned like toxic slime up my bare leg.

And I was done.

I’d now put in sixty-four excruciating minutes. I deserved a medal.

“If you don’t want to call me CJ, Ms. Lomax would be sufficient.” I lasered my eyes at Harper as I firmly grabbed his wrist and lifted his hand high enough so she could see I was removing it from my leg. “Mr. Dermott, if you need more time to consider sponsoring me, that’s fine. I can promise backing me would be a sound investment.” I made eye contact with him as I stood. “I also promise you won’t find anything to sway your decision on my legs or between them.”

Dermott’s brows furrowed, and his mouth grimaced as his expression flashed from bemused to annoyed.

Harper took my cue and began to stand, but Jordan continued their conversation.

Dermott stood as if to approach and pursue, his gaze still on me.

“Excuse me, it was nice meeting you gentleman. Harper, I’m going to the restroom. I’ll meet you outside.”

I wanted to pull a Cinderella and escape out the back door, except I didn’t want this “Prince” executive to follow.

I darted through low-slung leather chairs, intimately surrounding small tables, that peppered the lounge area and lengthened my strides after I spotted my refuge—the ladies’ room. I was cruising to my destination, when my traitorous feet decided they were done with the four-inch stilts I’d forced them into and chose that moment to rebel.

I was about to kiss the floor with my knees and flash the rest of the bar with my assets, when an arm slung around my waist, saving me.

“I got you.” A set of arms cocooned me, pulling me back against a firm chest. Long sleeves were rolled up firm, tanned forearms and I grasped onto them like a lap bar on a rollercoaster.

It was definitely not toxic slime touching me.

While trying to get my feet back under me, I peered over my shoulder.

Damn. Four-inch heels weren’t easy to stabilize when your world has been rocked.

Disheveled sandy blond hair in need of a trim, framed gray-blue eyes that locked onto mine. His five o’clock shadow was accentuated by the lighting in the most delicious way, tempting me to rub my hands over it.

He shifted me, his hands remaining on my waist, and I gripped dangerous biceps longer than necessary while I tried to lock-in my traitorous knees.

“Where’s the fire?” His half smile gave a teasing quality to the cliché, as his eyes roamed over my face and settled on my lips. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” I ran my hands down my dress, discreetly checking for any wardrobe malfunction that would stretch embarrassment into humiliation. “Sorry…thank you.”

I stepped away and straightened.

He slipped his hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed. The quirk of his smile gave him an air of congeniality. But the focus of his eyes, the slight tilt of his head, reminded me not to turn my back on a wolf.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

A Fast Woman
Enemies-to-lovers—accelerated.
CJ Lomax
People called me a fast woman—not because I slept around—because I broke men’s hearts on the racetrack. While climbing up stock car’s highest level of racing, I learned three truths: Adrenaline was my drug of choice, wearing a pair of heels was a form of torture, and I didn’t have time for distractions—especially from men.
I had one goal—a Cup Series contract—and it was within my reach.
Until Grady McBane cut me off—sending me, and my dreams, into a tailspin.
His damn smile, his charm, his talent… his touch. Damn hormones overrode my focus.

Grady McBane
The moment the beautiful, spitfire CJ Lomax tripped into my arms, it felt right.
Then Karma stepped in and laughed—Redeeming my reputation meant ruining her dream.
Even though I needed the contract to salvage my career, I found myself chasing her instead of racing her.
Her focus, her sass, her grit…her passion. I wanted it—I wanted her.
How could we cross the finish line without wrecking each other’s hearts?
Strap in for a hell of a ride.
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Meet the Author:

Laralyn Doran is a multi-award winning writer of fun, contemporary romance and dark, urban fantasy romance. Her latest, “A Fast Woman” is an enemies-to-lovers racing romance, set to release September 16,2020 and will be the first in the “Driven Women” series. In 2019, “A Fast Woman” was awarded The Writer Award, given by the Land of Enchantment Romance Authors (LERA).

Laralyn is a proud special needs mom, and an autism and dyslexia awareness advocate.
She lives in Maryland and is a member of Romance Writers of America, Central Pennsylvania Romance Writers, Washington Romance Writers, and other affiliate chapters.
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