Spotlight & Giveaway: An Irish Summer by Alexandra Paige

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Alexandra Paige to HJ!

Hi Alexandra and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, An Irish Summer!

Please summarize the book for the readers here:

An Irish Summer follows Type-A, Boston-native Chelsea Gold on an unexpected journey to Ireland for what’s only supposed to be the summer. When she loses her job and her apartment in one swoop, she moves to Ireland to work at a hostel for the season, expecting to fill a gap in her resume while she gets her Grand Plan back on track. What she doesn’t expect is Collin Finegan. Dreamy tour guide, bartender, storyteller, tattooed Irishman determined to make her fall in love with the country. After a summer of sightseeing, finding her footing at The Wanderer, pushing her boundaries, and opening her heart to what lies outside her “plans,” she falls in love with more than just Ireland and leaves all she knows behind in favor of a life on the Emerald Isle.
 

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

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he mumbled with his lips against my jaw.
“Watching you on that dance floor, the way you move your body—”
“Are you sure you were watching the right girl?” I teased. “Because the way I move my
body on a dance floor is—”
“Intoxicating,” he finished, kissing me again before I could argue.

“C’mere to me,” he whispered, and I unraveled.

Unlike the Cliffs, Collin Finegan could be seen for the first time
over and over again.

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

• I got the inspiration for this book on my first trip to Ireland, and I’ve been back four times since!
• Collin’s looks are based on a bartender I saw in Temple Bar on that first trip. If you’re out there, bartender, this one’s for you.
• The working title was originally “Luck Only Lends,” but my editor thought it was too much of a mouthful (and, as always, she was right!).
• I listened almost exclusively to Hozier and Dermot Kennedy when I was writing this book. I have a playlist from my trip of only Irish artists, and that fueled most of my writing sessions (as well as my travels).
• My best friend and I went on a trip to Ireland about a month ago, and we had such a transformative experience in a bar in Dingle that I fear this might not be my last book set over there.
• The scene when Collin has Chelsea taste the cocktail and the scene when Chelsea learns to make custard with his family are both based on experiences I had when I was living in London.
• My fiancé’s last name is Schey, so that’s how O’Shea’s got its name!

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

Chelsea is first—albeit reluctantly—attracted to Collin’s confidence. His large hands, the way he pulls a pint, his glass-green eyes. The smattering of freckles. The tattoos. The accent. She doesn’t want to be attracted to any of it, but can you blame her?

Collin is first attracted to Chelsea’s edge. Her reluctance to embrace her new circumstances, her sarcasm. He can see right through it, and he’s determined to break down her walls. There’s also her mess of crimson hair, her wit, her curves…

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

I had all the chills when Collin braids Chelsea’s hair! I love this kind of care and intimicacy between them, especially early in their relationship. It shows so much of Collin’s character and it’s so nice to see Chelsea let her guard down so her can take care of her.

“Sit on the ground,” he said, grabbing my hands and pulling me up from the chair despite
my weak protests. “I’m doing this for your benefit. Sit.” He pointed to the ground right in front
of us, and I obeyed.
What I didn’t expect was for him to then sit in the chair right behind me. “Are you
serious?” I asked. “You made me sit on the ground so you could sit in the chair? Even for you,
Collin, this is—”
“Lean back,” he said. I groaned like a child but ultimately did as I was told. I had no idea
what he was getting at, but I was too drunk to care.
I nestled my shoulder blades between his knees, relieved I no longer had to look at his
face in the moonlight. The distant thump of the bass was the only sound save for the animals in
the garden, and I hoped the silence would make my ears stop ringing. I focused on the feeling of
Collin at my back, his warm hands brushing my hair off my forehead, trailing down the sides of
my neck.
“Is this another weird Irish old wives’ tale?” I asked. “Are you casting a spell?”
He didn’t answer; instead, he gathered my hair off my shoulders and split it through the
center, working his fingers through the knots. It was impossible to ignore the gentle way he
untangled them, especially compared to the way he pulled my hair in the kitchen the other night.
How anyone could be both so soft and so rough was beyond me, and my stomach twisted at the
thought. Eventually, he dropped one side of my hair back over my shoulder and began dividing
the other into parts, and it was only then that I realized he was braiding.
“Coll, are you—”
“Just let me,” he said. Of all the things I secretly wanted Collin Finegan to do to me, this
hadn’t even crossed my mind. For the first time in my life, a man French-braided my hair.
I watched the stars form in the clear sky as he turned lock over lock, winding my waves
into two tight braids with expert fingers. He stopped periodically to run a hand through whatever
hair was still loose, despite having already gotten the knots out, and I wasn’t sure which of us
was enjoying it more.

Readers should read this book….

– If they’re looking for a little summer armchair travel to Ireland
– If they’re looking for inspiration to leave their plans behind and follow their hearts instead of their heads
– If they love hot Irishmen, fairy stories, strong heroines, hospitality, and quirky supporting characters

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

I’m currently working on a few projects! One is coming soon, but I’m not sure how much I’m allowed to share just yet, so stay tuned! Otherwise, I’m writing dual timelines in Scottish seaside towns, reckless teenage au pairs in Italy, and trying to resist temptation to start anything else…
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: (1) A print copy of AN IRISH SUMMER by Alexandra Paige.

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: If you were in Chelsea’s shoes, would you leave your life behind? Is there something in your life you’re looking for the courage to walk away from in favor of something more adventurous?

 
a Rafflecopter giveaway

 
 

Excerpt from An Irish Summer:

“And what’ll it be for you, then?” A deep voice broke my reverie, redirecting my
attention to the bar.
Collin was drying a pint glass, looking at me with expectant eyes. His short-sleeve shirt
revealed a collection of small tattoos scattered over his forearms, which flexed as he dried the
glass. I fought against the hypnotic effect of his spinning the rag around and around, trying to
answer his question.
I scanned the taps before remembering there was only one option. “Well,” I said,
pretending to look for another bartender, “I was hoping for a Guinness, but I’m not sure there’s
someone around here who can pull a good one. Lars, any suggestions?”
“Lars, do not answer that,” he said, and Lars raised his hands in surrender, signaling he
wouldn’t say a word. Collin turned to me, releasing the glass and leaning on the bar. “And what
is it you know about pulling a good Guinness, hmm?”
“I know it can’t be that hard.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Pull the lever, fill the glass,
what more is there?”
“Already slagging me off, are ya?” He flashed a wicked grin and I stalled, searching for a
response.
“Already what?”
His grin turned to a laugh and it made me want to crawl under the bar. “Slagging me off,”
he said again. “Like teasing, getting under my skin, you know.” I felt flustered thinking about
teasing or getting under his skin.
“Right,” I said, feeling the banter slip from my fingers.
“You’ve a lot to learn,” he said, but not unkindly. “Starting with this.”
I watched him sling a glass under the tap, tilting it just so, pulling the pint with expert
hands. When the glass was nearly full, he stopped the tap and let the beer settle before
continuing. I watched the color turn from chocolate to ink, silently embarrassed that I didn’t
know this really was an art. By the time he was finished, a perfect Guinness sat in front of me.
Black as night, label on the pint glass turned outward, an inch of milky foam resting on top.
He slid it toward me, resting his elbows on the bar and his chin on the heels of his hands.
On both wrists he wore thin, fraying leather string bracelets and, for a second, I wondered where they came from. “Go on,” he said, glancing from my eyes to the glass and back again. “Give it a
go.”
“I know what a Guinness tastes like,” I said, not fully ready to admit I was out of my
depth here.
“You’ve had one in Ireland, then?” he said.
“Well, no, but—”
“Then you’ve no idea what a Guinness tastes like.”
I narrowed my eyes, and he did the same. It was a standoff, and I was fighting uphill. I
tried not to notice his gaze travel to my lips as I sipped the beer, but the way his eyes lingered
made it impossible to ignore. Ada would have loved this.
“It’s fine,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Of all the things I thought you’d be,” he said, running his tongue over his teeth, “I didn’t
have you pegged for a liar.”
I hated the way my stomach buzzed at the thought of him having thoughts about me. And
he was right. I was a liar.
“Do you always go around making these accusations about your coworkers?”
“Well, it’s not every day they come into my bar and lie to my face, now, is it, Lars?”
Collin looked to Lars for support, who repeated his earlier hand gesture.
“Leave me out of this one, mate,” Lars said. “I’ve been here long enough to know not to
mess with anyone disparaging the black stuff.”
“Clever bloke,” Collin said, nodding in his direction. “You might learn a thing from him
too, while you’re at it.”
“More than I’ll learn from you, I suppose,” I said.
“You’re stalling.”
“I am not.”
“You are,” Lars said, going back on his word.
“Fine,” I said, reaching the end of my rope. “It was surprising.” Collin crossed his arms
over his chest, raising his brows in a way that urged me to continue. “It was lighter than I
thought it would be. And less bitter.” That was all I would give him. I would never tell him I
actually liked it.
“I think a lot of things are going to surprise you about Ireland, Chelsea,” he said, going
back to cleaning glasses, apparently satisfied with the ending of our Guinness debacle.
“Don’t you have other customers to bother?” I asked, sharply. I’d heard that line enough
from everyone in Boston, so I definitely didn’t need to hear it from him. We both looked over his
shoulder to see a small group forming at the other end of the bar, undoubtedly waiting for his
attention.
“I got ’em,” Lars said, sliding off his stool and heading behind the bar. He really wasn’t
kidding when he said they picked up each other’s slack. How did he still have the energy for
work?
“We’re done here, anyway,” I said.
“We . . .” Collin started, replacing Lars on the stool beside me, “are just getting
started.”
My breath caught in my throat. Had Lars and I been sitting this close? Collin was thin
and angular, but his presence so close to me was overbearing. I risked spinning my stool to face
him, not quite sure what I was getting myself into but unwilling to back down.
“You like telling people what to do, huh?” I asked, sizing him up. He wore a plain white
T-shirt with surprisingly few wrinkles and a pair of tan jeans, cuffed at the ankles. When he
rested one of those ankles across his knee I caught a glimpse of more faded black ink, and for a
torturous second I allowed myself to imagine the rest of his tattoos. The rest of his body. What it
might look like under all the earth tones.
What was I doing? I came here for a job and a place to live, not to flirt with some
arrogant tour-guide-bartender-farmer-handyman who seemed determined to make decisions
for me.
“Only with their best interest in mind,” he said, answering the question I’d forgotten I’d
asked. “Part of the territory as the resident tour guide. Though usually when I give advice, people
accept it. Especially out-of-towners. You might look Irish with that red hair of yours, but that
Boston accent isn’t fooling anybody.” He smiled at my surprise, leaning back on the stool, and
sipping a beer of his own.
“How’d you recognize the accent?”
“Been around it quite a bit. I spent a summer there myself, years ago. Lori’s sister, Helen,
has a bed-and-breakfast with her husband. Did some seasonal work for them in
2017, the first summer they opened.”
Guinness nearly shot from my nose.
“That’s where I used to work!” I said, clearing my throat before my enthusiasm got the
better of me. “I started there that fall. I can’t believe you know Helen and Jack.”
“I can’t believe we missed each other,” he said, eyes glinting. “To think we could have
met years ago.”
“Ah, yes. My summer after college was really missing a nosy tour guide intent on
disrupting strangers trying to have a peaceful drink after a long day.”
“Ouch,” he said, bringing a hand to his chest for effect. With his fingers splayed wide, his
hands looked twice the size they did when he was pulling the pints. “Besides, we’re hardly
strangers.”
“We don’t know anything about each other.”
“So, tell me something about yourself.” He smiled, and I knew I walked right into that.
“Hmm.,” I pretended to think. “Oh, I have something good,” I said. “A fun fact: I’m
exhausted. And I would very much like to pay for this pint, go back to the hostel, take a long
shower, and go directly to sleep.”
Collin laughed, bringing his glass to his lips and taking a slow sip, wholly undeterred
by my attitude. “Tell me something real and I won’t even charge ya for the pint.”
“Fine,” I conceded, figuring it might get me out of there quicker than arguing. “What is it
you so desperately need to know?” Apparently, the single pint was getting to my head.
“Why don’t you like it here?” he asked, any trace of jest gone from his tone.
“What?” I asked, though I heard him loud and clear. “I do like it here. What makes you
think I don’t? I mean, it’s new to me, obviously, but I don’t dislike it.” My rambling betrayed
me. I didn’t want to offend anyone, but I was a terrible liar.
“Aye, Chelsea, I’ve seen you around today. You’ve been looking ready to leg it since you
got out of bed.”
I didn’t need a translation here. He sounded surprisingly hurt by this, as if me not liking
Ireland was a personal attack.
“It’s only been one day,” I said by way of excuses. “And it was long and I’m jet-
lagged and trying to catch up, that’s all.”
“It’s just usually most people show up in Galway for the summer bright-eyed and ready
to jump right into the craic, you know? See what Ireland has to offer. And you seem intent on
avoiding the craic at all costs, if I’m honest.”
“Have you yet to figure out I’m not most people?”
“Oh, lass. That much I’ve known since you walked in the door.”
A flush spread over my chest, and I hoped he didn’t notice. “Really?” I raised an
eyebrow, secretly nervous about where he might be going but trying not to show it.
“Course,” he said, taking a long swig. “You’ve got an edge to ya. And that’s not to say I
don’t like it.” Another sip. “And don’t even get me started on how you look.” He dragged his
eyes over the length of my body, making no attempt to hide the desire behind his gaze.
On cue, Lars wandered over and refilled both pints. My mouth was a desert, and I was
desperate for a little liquid courage. The one was no longer going to cut it, and I needed
something to do with my mouth that wasn’t opening and closing it while searching for something
to say.
“Make a deal with me,” he said suddenly when I failed to respond, no longer concerned
about his initial question.
“And why would I do that?”
“Because you aren’t totally thick, and you might want to actually enjoy yourself this
summer.”
I took another swig, staring him down. “Tell me what it is before I agree.”
“Let me show you the country,” he said. “Properly. I know you don’t seem to think
Ireland is much of anything. But, if you’re willing to see it, I mean really see it, it’ll continue to
surprise you. In all the best ways. Hell, it still surprises me, and I’ve lived on the west coast my
entire life.” His voice changed when he talked about the country and I couldn’t pinpoint exactly
why, but it made me nostalgic.
“So, what?” I asked. “Like a day trip, see the sights, hit all the highlights, come back
here?”
His laugh was low, and it rumbled through me like distant thunder. “One day is hardly
going to cut it, and the highlights aren’t what you think they are. We’ll take our time. See it little
by little. We have the whole summer, after all. And by the end, I guarantee you won’t want to
leave.”
The daunting length of the season stretched out before me. Whereas I’d previously been
hoping it would pass in the blink of an eye, I was beginning to realize it would do the opposite.
That’s how time seemed to work here.
“I’m not so sure about that last part,” I said, confident in at least that much. There was no
chance I didn’t go right back to Boston as soon as I had the opportunity.
“I’m just asking you to trust me,” he said. “That’s all. And to give Ireland a chance. I
promise, she’ll be good to you.”
I was stuck here anyway, until I could find a way to get myself out. Trying to enjoy it
might not be the worst thing. It didn’t mean I’d stop actively trying to leave, but it
might lower my cortisol levels a little, which definitely wouldn’t hurt. Besides, even I wasn’t
stubborn enough to deny a proposal like that, from a man who looked like this.
“And you’re sure this isn’t just a chance to get more business as a tour guide? Boost your
reviews, make a few tips? Surely, there’s something in it for you.” I couldn’t resist one last
opportunity to rib him and I was missing the levity that had disappeared from this conversation.
“It’s on the house.” He smiled. “Staff get to use all the amenities The Wanderer has to
offer, for free. The only thing in it for me is the joy of sharing my love for this country. And the
fact that I’ll get to prove you wrong, of course.”
“We’ll see about that.” By this point in the conversation, we were wearing matching
smirks, and I hoped Lars wasn’t listening.
“Whatever you’re worried about, Chelsea, let it go. I’ve got you.” To him, it may have
been a throwaway comment, but to me, it was a rock at the base of my throat. A warm current
just under my skin. Three words so unexpectedly intimate all I could do was nod.
“So, do we have ourselves a deal?” He extended his hand, and I narrowed my eyes before
I shook it. “Say yes, Chelsea,” he said, dropping his volume so only I could hear. The depth of
his voice vibrated in the space between us, and even if I hadn’t planned on agreeing before, those
words might have been able to change my mind.
“We do.”
He beamed, and it was almost impossible not to do the same. Whatever it was about him
that got under my skin the way it did should have been a warning sign. A waving red flag, a
blaring alarm, something that sent me running in the opposite direction. Instead, it was pulling
me in headfirst.
Our handshake lingered just long enough for the heat of his hand to make its way through
my body, and I hadn’t the slightest clue what I’d just gotten myself into.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

A new romantic comedy in which a young woman embarks on a summer adventure—and summer fling—in Ireland, perfect for fans of Sophie Cousens and Beth O’Leary.

Boston has everything Chelsea needs: her best friend, her family, a great job. She’s worked and lived at the same bed and breakfast since graduating college, and she relishes the sense of stability. That is, until she’s informed that O’Shea’s Bed and Breakfast is being sold and she has less than a month to find a new job and apartment. Desperate, she takes a summer gig at the B&B’s sister hostel in Galway, Ireland. It’ll be an adventure, she convinces herself, and it’ll give her some time to plan her Next Act.

As it turns out, Galway has everything Chelsea hates: nonstop rain, no iced coffee, shared bathrooms. Working at The Wanderer might grant her time and a few extra lines on her resume, but Chelsea can’t help but feel like she left her life back in Massachusetts. Her new coworkers, however, are determined to change her mind, especially the handsome and charming tour guide Collin.

Collin and Chelsea strike up a deal: he’ll show Chelsea everything Ireland has to offer, and only then can she pass judgement. Sure enough, Chelsea finds herself warming up to the hostel and Irish lifestyle… and falling for her charismatic new friend. But as the summer comes to an end, she finds herself torn between the familiarity of home and the tantalizing adventure of life abroad.

An Irish Summer is a heartfelt, transporting story perfect for readers looking for the thrill of moving away from home and the unique magic of summer love.
Book Links: Amazon | B&N |
 
 

Meet the Author:

Alexandra Paige is a novelist and a marketing copywriter. Her debut novel was Weekends with You. She currently writes in an apartment she shares with her fiancé in a cozy NJ suburb or in the coffee shop down the street, though her stories are always taking her elsewhere. She has a BA from Moravian University and an MFA from Lindenwood University.
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