Spotlight & Giveaway: Bad Business by JC Harroway

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author JC Harroway to HJ!

Hi JC and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Bad Business!

 
Hi HJ fans!
 

Tell us about the book with this fun little challenge using the title of the book:

B is for undercover BOSS—I love a bit of mistaken identity to spice up a meet cute!
A is for ALL the feels, because there’s no shortage of those between Ryan and Grace.
D is for DREAM holiday DESTINATION, the beautiful South Pacific island, Fiji.
Business —because for the right person, there’s more to life.

Please share the opening lines of this book:

THERE’S A MEDICAL term for sudden, uncontrolled, simultaneous laughter
and crying. But Friday night cocktails with besties is no time for sobbing
over the life-changing decision I made a month ago.
I grab the jug of margarita and top up the three glasses on the table.

Please tell us a little about the characters in your book.

Grace is an anaesthetist who works hard but has never really learned how to play hard until she meets Ryan and casts off some of her shackles to embark on a wild and liberating holiday fling!

Ryan has it all on paper—a scorching hotIrish billionaire with the physique and laidback charm of a surfer. But underneath he’s a closed book thanks to his past. Enter Grace —the perfect. dose of medicine he needs!

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

• Fiji is on my list of holiday destinations, but I’ve never actually been, despite it being only a four hour flight away!
• The Frangipani flower grows on a tree native to warm tropical areas of the Pacific Islands, Caribbean, South America and Mexico.
• Ryan and Grace help to rescue a Green Sea Turtle—this species can live up to 80 years in the wild and grow to 1.5m in length and weigh 700 lbs (300kg).

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

Well seeing each other for the first time on a gorgeous tropical beach, while dressed in a bikini and board shorts respectively, I feel that Grace and Ryan were destined to find each other attractive! Beside the initial physical connection, Ryan is intrigued by the woman he knows is a doctor, but has come to a honeymoon island alone, and Grace is charmed by the confident, laidback Irishman who sometimes looks a little lost.

The First Kiss…

My feet move in his direction, while my brain screams and my pulse
races so high, I’m scared of passing out before I reach the shower.
He drops his hand to his side and turns to face me, his angular face taut
with arousal and his blue eyes blazing with challenge or need or something
else.
Or maybe I’m hallucinating. But I’m past holding back, my body
molten with the release.
Rather than dousing me in sense, the first shock of water cascading
down my back inflames me higher. Ryan lifts his eyebrows, part
impressed, part surprised, his expression shredding my usual caution.
He smells great, arousing—delicious shower gel, hints of sunscreen and
seawater and maleness. As if magnetised, my body sways closer until I’m
almost touching him, this stranger. This naked, turned-on man.
A head spin reminds me how I haven’t felt this heady, euphoric and
frankly terrifying rush for a very long time. But I want to live out wild
erotic fantasies with this beautiful man, here where I can re-invent myself.
I want to be honest and brave.
‘Kiss me,’ I whisper, so profound is my desire now I’ve surrendered to
the idea.
He reaches for my face, his palms big and directive on my heated
cheeks, and then I rise up on my tiptoes, my fingers dragging at his wet
hair until our mouths connect.
The first foreign, and oh-so-thrilling taste releases an involuntary moan.
I collapse against the wall of muscle that is his chest, my knees soft and
my body flooding with wild, wonderful and freeing endorphins.
He angles my head to the slide of his mouth, his lips soft but
demanding, exploratory, his eyes fiercely connected to mine, and the spray
of warm water a welcome antidote to the inferno burning me alive.
He pulls away to gruffly say my name, a groan, and then we’re kissing
again. This is crazy, exotic like this island. I’m sucked under by the waves
of desire pounding my body. I’ve never kissed or been kissed this way,
with such feral abandon.
My hands find his hips and I tug him out from under the worst of the
deluge until my back hits the tiles and he’s a wall of naked maleness and
hard muscle trapping me there.
Triumph sings through every cell. Would cautious, serious Grace kiss a
naked, aroused stranger she’d interrupted masturbating in the shower?
Would she hell. But I’m done with her.

If your book was optioned for a movie, what scene would you use for the audition of the main characters and why?

The scene in the resort bar is the first time Ryan and Grace open up to each other. Each of them is furiously attracted to the other, but also feeling vulnerable for their own reasons. This scene, if Bad Business was optioned for a film, would highlight both the physical and emotional connection between the characters.

What can I say? That I don’t believe in the bullshit
people call love? That I hate what people do in the name of something
that’s supposed to be hearts and roses and for ever? People like my
parents.
‘Did you get hurt…’ she asks ‘…by a woman?’ At her hesitant question,
all the sparkle dims from her eyes, replaced by a pained expression as if
she were said fictional woman witnessing the fallout of her heartbreaking
actions.
I hold in my skeptical snort. I don’t want to insult her; she clearly
believes in all this happily ever after bullshit. But the truth is, I’ve never
risked my heart in a romantic way, so I have no idea what she’s talking
about.
‘Don’t look so sad,’ I say, swigging my beer and looking away from the
compassion in her eyes, as if she truly cares that my heart might lie in
tatters. ‘Nothing like that—I just don’t do feels or rings or romance. Never
have.’ Spoken aloud to this woman, with her deep well of empathy and her
optimistic outlook, the words seem small, beneath me, irrelevant. Perhaps
simply because she’s under my skin in a way I’ve never experienced.
I decide on a dollop of truth.
‘I didn’t have happily married parents as role models—my father
cheated on his wife with my mother and then returned to his family when
he discovered she was pregnant with me. I’m afraid I’m a cynical bastard.’
The empathy in her eyes scrapes at my skin, exposing the root of my
trust issues.
Abandonment.
No doubt the doc here knows all about ways to screw up the human
psyche the way my mother deserting me to chase after my father screwed
me up. Good thing she’s an anaesthetist, not a shrink, or I’d have to watch
what I let slip.
‘I’m not sad… I thought you might be grieving and I guess I can’t help
helping people—occupational overspill, I’m afraid. And something you
said…you know, earlier…’ She flushes, her skin that pretty pink that tells
me she’s remembering this morning. ‘I realised this must be quite a
difficult place to work if your heart was broken.’ She tilts her head in the
direction of the dance floor where several couples have joined the French
in slow-dancing to some sappy love song.
I swallow, breathe a little easier. ‘Well, thanks for your concern, but I
guess I just don’t believe in love. Half of these couples won’t last.
Hopefully it will be before they procreate and bring another life into their
mess.’ I watch her eyes round, astonishment flickering in their depths
telling me she very much does believe. I grit my teeth and ponder saying
more. I’ve been as clear as possible about my expectations, but I know
from experience that some women see my stance on commitment as some
sort of personal challenge…
I contemplate wrapping things up early, going back to London to spend
time with Grandma. Most of my business with the experienced and
competent team here can be conducted over video call. But…
My body plunges back into that dark and cold place of uncertainty,
chills chasing away the warmth of a tropical evening. It’s not just
unfinished business with Grace holding me back. Going home may
confirm things I can’t bear to be true.
Incredulity hovers in Grace’s small smile. ‘You’ve never been in love?’
I shake my head, the pain lurking under my ribs since I hung up the
phone returning with a vengeance. I take another drag from my beer.
‘Nope, but don’t feel sorry for me—I do all right with the ladies.’ I wink,
trying to steer us back to casual sexy banter. Back to numbness.
Of course she sees through me, her eyebrows raised in question.
I sigh. It seems Grace and I are going for absolute honesty. ‘I can’t
imagine giving anyone that kind of power. It seems unnecessary in this day
and age. Have you been in love?’ I say to divert the spotlight.
Now why did I ask that? I don’t want to know. It’s irrelevant. And I can
guess the answer. Her dreamy expression alone tells me she’s a romantic.
My question dissolves her small frown, and she takes cover herself
behind an elaborate swirl of her cocktail. ‘Just once.’ She pauses. ‘I’ve not
long been through a break up. And…well…’ she swallows hard ‘…I was the
one who ended it.’ The pallor returns to her cheeks, her eyes taking on a
haunted look that speaks of her guilt and concern for her ex.
Compassionate Grace, with her should and shouldn’t, likes to do the
right thing. She cares, about people, their needs and wants. It’s who she is.
Breaking someone’s heart must have taken some serious soul-searching. I
grow restless in my seat. I want to drag her out of here and kiss her so
hard, we forget everything but what happens when we’re together.
‘I’d hate to think that my ex would abandon relationships altogether
because of my change of heart. I guess I was extrapolating.’ She looks up
from her drink, her eyes shining.
My heart thuds with foreboding. What kind of man would Grace throw
away? What did her ex feel, loving this woman? Was the risk worth the
heartbreak she’s worried she inflicted?
The block in my chest twists and turns, the burn making me wince.
This is why I prefer simple.
‘See, my way is easier,’ I say. ‘If you avoid all the feels and rings and
romance, you avoid all that messy stuff.’

If you could have given your characters one piece of advice before the opening pages of the book, what – would it be and why?

To Grace I would say ” go have fun girl!”, because she works hard at a serious and responsible job and really deserves to let her hair down with sexy paddle-boarder Ryan.
With Ryan I would be lost for words, because he’s far too dreamy and sexy and hot. Once I wiped the drool from my chin, I’d probably tell him to be brave enough to let people into his life.

What are you currently working on? What are your up-coming releases?*

Bad Business is book one in my new miniseries—The Pleasure Pact Series—which explores those thrilling and magical holiday flings! Book two, Bad Reputation features Grace’s friend Neve and is out in August 2020. And book three, Bad Mistake, features the third girlfriend, Brooke and is out October 2020. I am currently writing a new sexy duet for DARE to be published in 2021.
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: A copy of Bad Business (either digital or signed paperback). Open internationally.

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Excerpt from Bad Business:

Ryan
‘I’M GLAD YOU’RE HERE,’ I say above the sound of the outboard, sucking in
the addictive scent of Grace’s hair carried on the warm breeze. I’ve given
her the helm of the Blarney. It’s torture to watch her small frown of
concentration as she steers us around the many scattered islands in the
archipelago that forms Fiji, her delight at being in charge of a fifty-foot
motor yacht obvious, although its spec is so high, it could probably sail
itself.
She narrows her eyes at me, a smile twitching her sensual mouth. ‘I
didn’t want to miss this. Plus I’ll think up other ways to make you pay.’
I laugh, but my stomach drops. How could I have been so stupid? This
morning after an incredible night, all I wanted to do was kiss her awake
and drag another orgasm from her beautiful, pliant body. I forced myself
to leave, my spiel about casual boundaries fresh in my head, when in
reality, I was the one craving more, craving everything she’s willing to
give in the time we have left. A realisation that caused my chest to
constrict with panic that propelled me out of the door.
Is she the best form of distraction from my worries, or something more
hazardous?
‘That’s a price I can’t wait to pay.’ I wink and fight the urge to kiss her.
What the hell is happening to me?
Despite her warning about her one sexual relationship, she blew me
away. I can’t remember ever finding sex funny, but it was with her, and hot
and so addictive I want to drop anchor and remind her of how well we fit
together. Instead I console myself with the wide-eyed excitement lighting
up her sun-kissed face.
I feel her sigh as I bring my arms around her waist and allow my nose to
linger in her hair. ‘It’s beautiful, here,’ she says. ‘Will you stay for ever?’
I stiffen. It’s a thought that has never occurred to me. I could afford to
retire here tomorrow, but ever since the day I had no choice but to sleep on
a freezing concrete floor I’ve strived, hauling myself and my grandmother
from relative hardship, single-handed. And settling in one place? When
it’s easier to keep travelling, keep moving and forget the futility of craving
a home, a constant.
A vision of Grace and I exploring the islands together on the Blarney
flashes through my mind, both the image and my reaction jaw-dropping.
There’s so much we could do together, so much more I want to know about
her if I indulged in relationships. And if she embraced everything with the
abandonment, joy and determination I’m beginning to learn is her default
setting, what a ride we’d have in store…
But I don’t do that. I travel alone. I keep my casual relationships brief
and superficial. I don’t ask too many questions. Because then I can walk
away.
I grow aware of that bloody concrete block crushing me. I know my
grandmother would love to see me settled. But, am I ready to change? To
re-evaluate my stance on love when I have first-hand evidence that love—
if it is real—can end catastrophically and with collateral damage? Opening
myself to the possibility of more with this woman also exposes me to the
risk of loss.
And I’m already maxed out where that fear is concerned.
I try to exhale the tension gripping me. ‘I travel a lot, and when I’m not
travelling I stay in London to be close to my grandmother. I try not to be
away for longer than a few weeks, but you’re right. If ever there was a
place to stop and smell the ocean, this is it.’
In many ways Grace reminds me of Grandma. Both strong, practical
women with enormous capacity for compassion.
‘So do you own other resorts?’ She takes her eye off the horizon to cast
me a sidelong look. ‘Is this your only job? I’m determined to know more
about you now. I won’t be distracted by all this.’ She waves her hand in my
general direction, and I capture it, lift her hand to my mouth and press a
kiss to her fingertips.
‘I guess my official title would be entrepreneur, but in recent years the
resort side has taken centre stage. This is my tenth.’
Her mouth hangs open. ‘You own ten resorts?’
I nod. ‘Yes, all over the world—hence the travelling.’
She pushes up her sunglasses, light dawning. ‘This is your yacht, isn’t
it? You didn’t just charter it…’
I shrug as if my lifestyle, the luxury of the Blarney, is no big deal, but I
still have days when I wake up drenched in sweat, terrified because I’m
seventeen again; alone, powerless and homeless.
She laughs, the sound humourless, not her usual delighted, contagious
chuckle. ‘Great. I thought you were the water-sports instructor when really
you’re some sort of undercover boss billionaire.’
‘Well, hardly undercover…’ I say, aware I’m still on thin ice. ‘I’m just a
normal bloke who worked hard and had some lucky breaks. Believe me—a
smart, pretty girl like you wouldn’t have given seventeen-year-old me a
second look if we were the same age.’
I grow hot under her intelligent and inquisitive stare, aware I’ve
revealed too much. ‘Why don’t we stop a while?’ I say, as we approach
one of the smaller inhabited islands. ‘Drop anchor and grab a drink?
Perhaps have a swim?’
‘Sure. And you can explain to me what you mean by that.’ She steps
back, giving me the helm. I kill the engine and anchor us in place only
metres from the shore, where a couple of local fishermen are dragging nets
aboard their small fishing vessel.
Grace saunters off towards the deck loungers. I prepare us both a cold
drink and sit beside her while I work out how much of my tawdry past to
reveal.
‘So tell me why I wouldn’t have given you a second look at seventeen,’
she says, taking a sip of her drink. ‘Because at that age, I had my own
issues, believe me.’
Every cell in my body wants to sidestep this topic with a distraction, to
touch her, drag her into my lap and feel her warm, luscious body sprawled
over mine. I’m usually past the infatuation stage by now and preparing to
walk away but all I want to do is reconnect and resume the playful passion
we discovered last night. Perhaps it’s because I can’t walk away. We’re
literally marooned here. Temporarily. Or is it that she challenges me, her
fearlessness nudging me to probe my own contentment? There’s
something about this woman that makes me breathe a little easier, a
calming presence that soothes the never far away urgency gripping my
throat.
And now I want to know about her, too. ‘I’ll tell you mine if you’ll tell
me yours?’ I hedge.
‘Done.’ She places her glass on the side table and offers me her full
attention.
‘Well, for a start, by seventeen, I’d left school. While you at the same
age would have been studying hard to get into med school, I was working
on a building site in the day and attending adult education classes in the
evenings.’
If she’s surprised she hides it well, her sharp, probing stare flicking over
my face. ‘What did a builder’s mate study to end up with all this?’ She
spreads her hands to encompass the Blarney anchored in this idyllic place.
‘Anything and everything going free—bookkeeping, IT, business
management. You name it, I’ve done it. I couldn’t afford to go to
university until my mid-twenties, but I wanted more. So I worked hard,
like you.’
The impressed look on her face puffs out my chest. ‘You’re very driven,
some would say an overachiever…’
I incline my head in acknowledgement. ‘Aren’t you? Isn’t that what it
takes to make it? It’s less about luck than most people believe. More about
stubborn determination.’
She nods. ‘Yes. But from night school to owning your own island is a lot
of determination.’
It’s not a question but it hangs there in the warm air demanding
elaboration. And for once I trust this woman enough to know I won’t
regret telling her about my past. What’s the worst that can happen? She
has too much integrity to run to the press with my sad little sob story.
‘My drivers were more…basic than yours, I suspect. I was driven to be
safe, warm and not hungry.’ My voice is harsher than I intended, rough
with the emotion that’s never far from the surface when I think about my
haphazard childhood and ad hoc parenting.
She sobers, her fingers flexing as if she’s stopped herself from reaching
out to touch me. ‘We don’t have to talk about this, although you should
know I can relate—not to the hunger, but most of us have demons.’
I sigh, fighting the memories of having nothing but my own self-belief
and a drive to provide for the one person who cared enough about me to
stick around. Grandma. Until diabetes and her first stroke meant she could
no longer cope with a teenaged grandson.
I haul in a deep breath. ‘I’m close to my grandmother because I lived
with her. She raised me until she had her first stroke and moved into a
nursing home. That’s when I began caring for her.’
‘At seventeen?’ There’s no pity in her expression, just the concerned
look of understanding.
The rest of the story sticks in my throat. Do I spit it out or swallow it
back, the way I have so many times in the past, whenever anyone strays
too close?
But Grace is different. Or, with her, I’m different.
‘Yeah. That’s why I dropped out of school. Her house was sold to fund
her nursing-home care.’ I swallow the bitterness that comes with the
memories—a solicitor’s letter from my mother informing me that, as
Grandma’s next of kin, she’d made the arrangements without thought of
what would happen to her inconvenient son. ‘I spent a week or so
homeless, dossing at the building site until my pay cheque came through
and I could afford hostel accommodation.’
Too proud to hunt down the parents who’d made it clear my whole life
where I came in their list of priorities.
‘Those freezing-cold nights sleeping on a concrete floor under a
tarpaulin galvanised me. So yes, I’m driven.’ And more, it confirmed what
I’d always known, what I’d grown up fighting but finally came to terms
with on that first soul-destroying night, when I’d spent my last pound
calling my mother to tell her about Grandma’s progress, for all the
difference it made—that I was alone. That my mother, a woman who
dipped back into my life whenever it suited her, usually after her latest
break-up, really did care more about herself than her son and even her
mother. And that I’d never give anyone that power over me again.

Excerpts. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

From bestselling author JC Harroway comes the
first book in The Pleasure Pact series. Grace Metcalf
only wanted a onetime fling…but he’s got her
risking it all for more!

After my sister died, I knew I owed it to her and myself to get out there
and start living. First order—calling off my wedding to a man I didn’t
love. Then a margarita-filled night led to an agreement with my best
friends: The Pleasure Pact. We’ve all agreed to live in the moment, which
means behaving badly, embracing passion and saying yes to every
adventure…even a red-hot holiday fling.
When I agreed to go honeymooning solo in sunny Fiji, I didn’t expect to
find a gorgeous paddleboard instructor ready and waiting to take my mind
off the mundanity of real life. The mysterious Ryan Dempsey is exactly
what I need: no rings, no romance, just raw sex appeal. His enigmatic past
has turned him off love—now he’s all about lust and spontaneity.
Ryan might be set on keeping things casual, but each electrifying
encounter with him only shows me that our scorching chemistry goes
beyond the physical. Can I convince this sworn bachelor that risking our
tropical affair for a deeper connection is worth it?
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Meet the Author:

Lifelong romance addict and international bestselling author J.C. Harroway lives in New Zealand
Writing feeds her very real obsession with happy endings and the endorphin rush they create. You can follow her at www.jcharroway.com www.facebook.com/jcharroway, www.instagram.com/jcharroway and https://twitter.com/jcharroway
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