Spotlight & Giveaway: Betting on the Bull Rider by Kaylie Newell

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Kaylie Newell to HJ!

Hi Kaylie and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Betting on the Bull Rider!

To start off, can you please tell us a little bit about this book?:

Jake Elliott is a bull rider used to courting danger for a living. Alice Bloom is a straight-laced funeral home director used to pushing it away at all costs. This is an opposites attract book at its core. But it’s also about learning to trust, to let go, and to really, really love someone with all your heart without holding the most important parts of yourself back. Jake and Alice fall hard for each other, but they also have a lot to overcome to find their happily ever after.

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

This is more than a few lines, but I really do love this part, because it’s beginning to dawn on Jake that his wall is coming down…

Slowly, Alice turned until she was facing him. The light from the sliver in the curtains cloaked her like a shroud. She looked like an angel then, sent to rescue him from himself. The moonlight, mingling with the streetlights, shone on her hair. Her moss green eyes were so dark, he saw himself in them.
Without saying a word, she stepped close and wrapped her long, slender arms around his neck. God, she was pretty. Prettier than any of the women he’d been with before—the ones from his youth who’d only cared about his status on the circuit. He’d known it then, but had told himself it didn’t matter. Who gave a rip, if the end result was some good sex with no strings attached?
It was only now, with her hands in his hair, that he let himself feel the emptiness that lingered from those nights on the road. From the nights coming home to a dark house and a certain hangover. Good sex was good sex. But it didn’t hold a candle to this.

What inspired this book?

My Girl is one of my all-time favorite movies! It always made me wonder what it would be like working in the funeral home industry. It’s a fascinating and important calling, and I don’t think it gets explored very much in romance. For that reason, I wanted Betting on the Bull Rider to be a fun, quirky story- something that would be very different than what readers might expect. The push and pull between Alice and Jake is one of my favorite aspects of this story. You’d think a bull rider and a funeral home director would be the last two people destined to fall in love, but really, they’re made for each other.

How did you ‘get to know’ your main characters? Did they ever surprise you?

Jake was just such a joy to write. He’s not afraid of anything, unlike me. I’m afraid of a lot, so Alice and I have a few things in common 😉 With this story, I pretty much let them take me by the hand and lead me where they wanted to go. It was a fun ride.

What was your favorite scene to write?

I really liked the book store scene, where Alice introduces Jake to some of the things she loves most- in this case, browsing used paperbacks. He’s a fairly rough around the edges guy, so he’s kind of like a bull in a China shop in this scene, but he still manages to score a sexy first kiss!

Alice took a deep breath. What she hoped looked like a patient breath. “Okay. One kiss. As an experiment. And to get you to shut up about it.”
Jake’s lips tilted at that. He wasn’t buying it. But whatever.
He leaned even closer, until his breath puffed warm and soft on her mouth. He smelled minty. He reached casually over and grabbed the bookmark display behind her shoulder. She let her gaze flick to his considerable bicep and how the plaid shirt stretched over it.
“I’m ready when you are, darlin’.”
And there were those eyes again. She felt like she was being drawn into the mother ship. He was pulling her right on in, and she was powerless against it. Kiss me. Okay. Fall in love with me. Don’t mind if I do…

What was the most difficult scene to write?

Mostly, I wanted this book to be lighthearted and fun. But Alice did lose her mom at a young age, and there’s a scene where she and her dad go visit the cemetery. This was a hard scene to write because it made me think of my own mom. But even though parts of it were sad, I loved the fact that it’s also a sweet bonding moment for Alice and her dad.

They slowed as they reached the grave, and Alice bent to tuck the lilies at the base of the marker.
“Hi, Mama,” she said.
Her dad wrapped an arm around her, and all of a sudden, she was twelve again. The painful age where most of the girls Alice knew were pushing their mothers away. She’d been desperate to hold on to hers. But her dad had done his best. He’d navigated her through school dances, her first period, her prom, and packing up for college. But she’d never stopped longing for her mom. For her sweet and steady presence in her life.

Would you say this book showcases your writing style or is it a departure for you?

I think one of the things I do best is internal dialogue and description. But this book has a lot of real-time dialogue. A lot of sexy moments between the hero and heroine, who are opposites in every way. It was a kick letting them take the lead.

What do you want people to take away from reading this book?

I’d love for people to remember how precious life really is. And that we should grab the bull by the horns (as Jake would say) and live it up!

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

Right now, I’m just finishing up the first book in a three-book series called the Cole Brothers. This will be another Montana Born story for Tule, set during Christmas time. I love getting to write books set in snowy Marietta!

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: An ebook copy of Betting on the Bull Rider and 3 Tule ebooks of your choice

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: I feel like Alice has such an interesting job. What kinds of careers would you like to see represented more in romance?

 
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Excerpt from Betting on the Bull Rider:

Alice Bloom straightened the colorful flower arrangement that sat in the bay window of the Victorian house that had been in her family for three generations. Well, four now. Counting her.
The Montana sun filled the sitting room with golden, summer light. The house was warm, but not too warm. She didn’t want the family and friends of Mrs. Elaine Chapman to be uncomfortable in any way. Alice’s dad had a tendency to turn up the air conditioning until people’s teeth started chattering. Nobody wants to stick to their chair during a funeral! he’d say. But nobody wanted to freeze to death at one, either.
The door to the basement squeaked open behind her, and she turned to see Dana standing there in her signature black slacks and matching sweater. It didn’t matter that Dana was the embalmer, and dealt with the dead for a living. She wore black on her days off, too—in the mornings, at night, on the weekends, on vacation…you name it. Alice had even seen her in pictures at Disneyland wearing black jeans and sneakers. Her nose, lip, and eyebrow rings, in sharp contrast to the giant Mickey Mouse emblazoned on her T-shirt. Black, of course.
The younger woman looked around and smiled. “It looks pretty. Nice job, Alice.”
“You don’t think it’s too much? She liked pink.”
Mrs. Chapman’s family had asked Alice to take care of the flowers, so she’d admittedly gone a little nuts. Pink roses and carnations from Sweet Pea Flowers. Lilies and baby’s breath. Everything pink and soft, and painfully feminine. But looking at it now, she wondered if it didn’t have more of a Pepto-Bismol vibe going on.
“No, it’s cool,” Dana said. “It smells like a garden in here.”
Good. A garden was good. This funeral might look slightly medicinal, but as long as it didn’t smell that way.
Dana walked up beside her and peered out the window, which was open a crack to let some fresh air in. The first of the family members were starting to arrive. A small Volkswagen parked underneath the shade of the big, ancient oak in the yard, acorns crunching underneath its tires. Then a few pickup trucks pulled up behind, lining up like boxcars behind a train.
“Ninety-eight,” Dana said. “Passed away in her sleep after an evening spent with her book club? Not a bad way to go, if you ask me.”
“Not too shabby.” Alice glanced over at her. “Is that new?”
“It’s a septum ring,” Dana said matter-of-factly. “Your dad is worried that when I take a drink of water, it’ll squirt out from all the holes in my head. Like a sprinkler. His exact words.”
Alice laughed. “You know he loves you. He’s just a little old-fashioned. Progressively old-fashioned. That’s my dad.”
“I get it. I’m sure my dad would feel the same.”
Dana had only been in Marietta for six months. She’d graduated from mortuary sciences school in December, and had answered Bloom Funeral Home’s ad for an embalmer right after. Alice had liked her immediately. Even though they were complete opposites, she felt like Dana was the little sister she’d never had. She was protective of her, even though the younger woman could absolutely take care of herself. She rode a vintage Honda dirt bike she’d nicknamed Sugar Bear. So, there was that.
They were still getting to know each other, but it was pretty obvious that Dana and her family were estranged. It made Alice sad. As the only child of a widower, she knew what a gift family could be. How lonely you could feel without it. She also knew how it felt to be an outcast—a square peg trying to fit into a perpetually round hole. Being the weird little kid of a small-town mortician did that to you.
“So, what do you say?” Dana asked, as they watched Mrs. Chapman’s family and friends make their way up the flower-lined walkway. “Your birthday is day after tomorrow. The big three-four. Are you going to let me take you to the Wolf Den for tequila shots?”
“God. I was hoping you’d forget about that.”
“Never.”
“I hate tequila.”
“You haven’t tried the right tequila.”
“There is no right tequila.”
“Live a little, Alice.”
“I’ve made it this far. I must be doing something right.”
Dana sighed. “By washing your hands fifty times a day?”
“What are we talking about?”
They both turned to see Alice’s dad, looking dapper in his black suit and tie. His snow-white hair was combed neatly over an endearing bald spot, and a soft paunch hung over his belt buckle.
“I’m trying to get Alice to loosen up for her birthday, Mr. Bloom,” Dana said. “It’s a losing battle.”
“She won’t do it, Dana, my dear. I’ve tried.”
Alice crossed her arms over her chest, feeling the cool weight of her mother’s pearls against her throat. “Well, now you’re just making me sound like a prude.”
He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek, something that always melted her pretend defenses. Alice had only ever been truly mad at her father twice in her life. Once when he’d washed her favorite blue dress in hot water and shrunk it three sizes. And that time he’d forgotten to mention that her mom was dying.
“Here they are,” Dana said. And her pretty, pierced face transformed into something exquisite as she smiled at the first of the Chapman family to walk through the door.
Alice smiled, too. Stepping forward to shake their hands and extend her warmest condolences. Nobody ever really understood this, but she loved it. Not the death part, of course. But the comforting part. She got how it felt to lose someone. What it was like to say goodbye in a flower-filled room with tissues on every table. These families with the red noses and sad eyes were her people. And there was a special place in her heart for each and every one.
People filed past, making their way into the light-filled mortuary that smelled like rose petals. The house was lovely, in and of itself. But it also exuded a quiet kind of dignity, of old beauty that was hard to explain until you stepped foot inside its walls. It smelled like summer. But it felt like summer, too.
Alice glanced down the line of people coming up the walkway. There were a few elderly folks slapping their canes on the cement, or leaning on a walker or two. But most of them were young—nieces, nephews, friends. Overall, this group of people didn’t look so much solemn, as ready to celebrate the woman they’d come to honor. Mrs. Chapman had lived a good life, a long life, and as far as funerals went, this was about as peaceful as you could hope for.
The last of the guests walked through the door—a middle-aged man and a little girl of about five or so. She wore a ruffled dress and a crooked bow in her hair, and clutched the man’s hand like it was a life preserver.
Bending down, Alice touched her puffy sleeve. “Hello there. I like your dress.”
The girl’s eyes were so blue, they looked almost periwinkle. “Thank you.”
Alice smiled. “There are still plenty of seats toward the back. Thank you so much for coming.”
The man led the little girl into the other room where the pianist had started playing A Closer Walk to Thee.
“I think that’s it,” Dana said softly.
“Okay. I’ll be right there.”
She started pushing the front door closed against the warmth of the morning, when a big, black truck rumbled up to the curb. It was so huge that the driver had to park with its tail end jutting into the road.
Alice frowned disapprovingly. Maybe she was a prude. But at least she didn’t block the street during a funeral.
The door opened and a man in a white Stetson climbed out. He slammed the door and walked around the front of his truck, obviously in a hurry. Then stopped and touched his hat, as if he’d forgotten it was still there.
Alice watched as he turned around, opened the door again and swiped the hat off his head to toss it in the driver’s seat. He ran his hand through his strawberry blond hair, doing nothing to erase the hat ring. He wore a denim shirt, dark-washed Wranglers, and boots. The boots were worn, dusty. His belt buckle giant and gleaming in the sun. She’d didn’t hang out with any personally, but she’d seen enough cowboys around Marietta to know this guy was the real deal. The Wranglers might be new, but the boots weren’t. And that said a lot.
He headed up the walkway, oblivious to her standing there. All of a sudden, she felt awkward, like she’d been waiting for him. Which, she guessed she had been.
She swallowed hard. It was absolutely not the time or place to be noticing how his shirt stretched over his broad shoulders. And despite the five-o’clock shadow at ten o’clock in the morning, he also looked about a decade younger than her, which only made her feel more awkward, if that was possible.
She plastered a smile on her face, and waited for him to reach the front steps. Sometimes this happened. A bolt of desire would hit like a lightning rod out of a clear blue sky. Then she’d have to remind herself that tall cowboys with hat rings around their hair didn’t notice her. They ignored her. And that was okay, because the pain of her childhood was in the rearview mirror now, and she was happy with the woman she was. She was a helper, a comforter. And despite how boring Dana thought her life was, she was good with it.
He took the steps two at a time, and then stomped his boots on the porch, ridding them of some dirt. She waited until he looked up and saw her standing there.
“Hello,” she said. Softly, in her best funeral director’s voice. It no longer mattered that he’d parked his truck crooked, or that he smelled faintly of soap and man. Or that she’d spent the better part of her teens crying over guys just like this. He was here to say goodbye to someone, and she was going to help him do that.
He nodded. Then smiled, and touched the brim of his hat, which at this very moment sat in the driver’s seat of his pickup.
“Ma’am. I’m a little late.”
“That’s okay. They haven’t started yet.”
He walked over, dwarfing her in his presence. Then reached out to shake her hand. “Jake Elliott. A neighbor of Elaine’s.”
Her fingers disappeared underneath his. His skin was rough and warm, his movements measured, confident. His face was tan, and thin white lines made their way from the corners of his hazel eyes. A twenty-something’s version of crow’s feet. She, on the other hand, had the beginnings of the real thing.
“Alice Bloom,” she said. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” He looked toward the room where the reverend was now at the podium straightening her notes and clearing her throat.
Without another word, Jake Elliott walked into the chapel with his head bowed. His broad shoulders rounded. He looked too big for the room, and Alice watched him go, her heart beating steadily behind her breastbone. Men like that looked too big for everything.
“Alice!” her dad whispered from the doorway.
She looked over, pulled back into a reality she’d momentarily forgotten.
“Turn up the air,” he said. “It’s warm in here.”

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

Balls-to-the-wall bull rider Jake Elliott, and straight-laced funeral home director Alice Bloom have absolutely nothing in common. Or so they think. But when a chance encounter brings them together one hopping Saturday night, Jake can tell he’s finally met his match. Lovely Alice isn’t shy about looking him in the eyes and telling him he’s too wild, too reckless for her blood.

Alice has good reason to be wary — dealing with dead people every day has taught her to look both ways before crossing the street, and to definitely resist the slippery charms of any local rodeo stars. The only problem is, she hasn’t met anyone like Jake before. He’s cocky, infuriating, and inconveniently gorgeous.

It doesn’t take long to see that in this case, opposites won’t just attract, they’ll ignite. When Jake proposes a sexy bet, Alice can’t resist. He’s dying to show her how to let loose and have a little fun. And she’s determined to keep her feet planted firmly on the ground. And her heart in check.

Whoever brings the other around first, wins. The only problem is, they weren’t planning on falling head over heels along the way.

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Meet the Author:

For Kaylie Newell, storytelling is in the blood. Growing up the daughter of two writers, she knew eventually she’d want to follow in their footsteps. She’s now the proud author of over a dozen books, including the RITA® finalists, Christmas at The Graff and Tanner’s Promise.

Kaylie lives in Southern Oregon with her husband, two daughters, a blind Doberman, and two indifferent cats.
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