Spotlight & Giveaway: Feels Like Home by Dakota Harrison

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Dakota Harrison to HJ!

Hi Dakota and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Feels Like Home!

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

Best friends Zac and Cat are torn apart by tragedy on their graduation night. Twelve years pass and they are thrown together again when Zac returns home to his rural home town to be the best man at his brother’s wedding. He’s made something of his life and has ached to apologize to Cat for leaving the way he did. Secrets and deceptions worm their way into the light, not from Zac, but from people Cat thought she could trust. She’s missed him terribly, but other’s in the small town have good reason to make him leave.
 

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

“So, do you like having powerful things between your legs?”
She burst out laughing. “You seriously didn’t just say that? Tell me, does that piss-poor line usually work?”
Zac winked at her in the mirror. “Don’t know. Did it? I’ve never tried it before.”
“Is this where you take me to dispose of my dead body?” she joked.
“Now why would I do that to a perfectly pristine environment? Have some respect for nature, Catherine.”

What inspired this book?

I kept seeing the image of this woman with a short, sharp retro bob hairstyle, who dressed exclusively in 50s clothes, inside a cupcake shop. That’s all she sold – cupcakes. And the guy, he came fully formed; a little scruffy around the edges, drop-dead gorgeous, and lost, with no real place to call home. Originally I set it in Astoria. I love Goonies, and have always wanted to write a book set there. I researched the heck out of the place! (Then ended up changing the setting after all that work.)

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

Zac was Little Boy Lost. He’d finally been given this chance to have a real home, with people who loved him, but his love for his brother trumped all of that and he stood up and took the blame for something he didn’t do, not fully realizing the consequences. His sense of duty and justice stopped him from opening his mouth. I guess the lengths he went to to protect his brother surprised me a little.

Cat’s younger sister Holly had been the sunshine and heart of the entire town. I had imagined Cat at first as being a little frosty, a bit stand-offish. But the more I wrote her, I realized the opposite – she was just like Holly, only more internal. She has a huge heart and seems tough, but is easily hurt, especially by her good friend Marina, who often is careless with her choice of words.

What was your favorite scene to write?

Oooh, this would have to be the scene where Zac comes face-to-face with Cat’s mother, a woman he’d loved and adored as a child, a woman he felt he’d let down so fully. It wasn’t in the first draft and I must admit I wrote the last half of it through tears. It encapsulates their previous relationship so well.

James hugged him back, hard. “Let’s do this!”
Zac chuckled, the emotional roller coaster of the last few minutes settling to a vague churning. They turned, only to come face-to-face with Helen van Alden.
The bottom dropped out of Zac’s gut. The one person who would be harder to face than Cat, was her mother.
Holly’s mother.
He knew his face blasted his shock and utter horror at being caught off guard in her presence, but he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop it. He dropped his gaze to the floor and moved to step around her and hurry out the door.
“Zac.”
Her voice stopped him cold. Soft, calm, sad. It hit him with the force of a typhoon.
He swallowed, unable to utter a single word, his throat parched and tight. His heart raced as if he’d sprinted the full length of the main street.
“James, would you mind giving us a moment?”
That brought his head up. She wanted to speak to him?
Why?
James looked between them, undecided, worried.
Helen placed her hand on his arm. “It’s all right. I’m not here to make a scene.”
James nodded and backed out the door, pointing at the doorway as he did. His meaning was clear, he’d be waiting just outside in case he was needed.
Satisfied that James had at least left the immediate vicinity, Helen faced him.
“It’s been too long, Zac.”
So many responses came into his head. This woman had been like another mother to him for so long. He’d loved her like a son would, he’d adored her, sought her opinion on many things, given her goofy Mother’s Day presents that only a mother could like. Selena had been a godsend to an abused kid looking for a safe harbour; but Helen, she’d been his conscience.
Too many words took up space in his head for what he wanted to say. Unable to articulate what was crowding his brain, he said nothing.
She stepped closer. He tensed.
She placed her hand on his suit-covered forearm. Even so, he flinched as if struck.
He struggled to breathe.
“It’s okay.”
He gasped in a breath, certain he’d heard wrong. He looked into blue eyes so similar to Cat’s it was uncanny.
“What?” he rasped.
She squeezed his arm. He could feel the heat of her palm through the expensive material all the same.
“I said, it’s okay. It’s okay that you’re here for James. It’s okay that you want to patch things up with Cat. It’s okay to feel.”
Tears stung his eyes. Tears he’d thought dried up long ago. He gritted his teeth, grinding his jaw closed as if to fuse it together by sheer will alone, and kept his gaze averted.
Her hand left his arm and cupped his jaw.
God no. Why is she doing this?
“It’s okay to come home.”

What was the most difficult scene to write?

The above scene would be one of, if not the hardest to write. Also where James admits to his complicity.

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

This book is a more grown-up me. I used to write fluffy, happy little books, then my mum passed away and I couldn’t write anything for almost two years. The resulting books after that seemed like they’d been written by a completely different person. Much grittier. It made me grow as a writer in a way that I don’t think anything else could have.

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

Hope. I want people to love Cat and Zac as much as I do, and want the truth to come out, to give them the chance they deserve. But most of all I want them to be left with a feeling of hope, that even though bad things happened, as Anne Shirley said in Anne of Green Gables, “Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet.”

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

I’m currently working on Book Three in the series, Book Two’s hero’s twin sister and his best friend, which won’t go down well with some people in the town at all. Book Two is The Talk About Town and is out next month! It’s about a new girl in town, a veterinarian hurt by love, his meddling twin sister, and a bet that goes haywire.

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: An ebook copy of Feels Like Home & 3 Tule ebooks of your choice

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: If you had the chance to take responsibility for something huge that you didn’t do, would you do it to ensure the future of the one person who’d made you feel like real family from the first day they met you?

 
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Excerpt from Feels Like Home:

Chapter One
Seeing Zac Hart was never easy. He was everywhere. On TV, and all the radio stations.
Staring up from the magazine cover in front of her.
Cat blew on her cupped hands to warm fingers cooled by her early morning walk to work. She’d forgotten her gloves, hadn’t really needed to dig them out of her drawer yet. She’d quickly ducked into the newsagent to grab a copy of the local newspaper as she was running late, only to be blindsided by Zac’s face staring back at her.
She glanced around, grabbed the magazine from the rack, then shook her head at herself. As if anyone around here cared if she picked up some random magazine?
She glanced at the cover in her hands.
“So. You finally made it,” she murmured to the Grammy winner, carefully posed to look like he didn’t have a care in the world.
She knew better. She knew what lay behind those smouldering eyes. Her gut somersaulted with pain and regret, even after all these years. Zac’s tattoo sleeve encompassed his entire left shoulder, and swirled its way down his arm to end at his wrist. Suspenders caressed the taut lines of his bare chest. She was pretty sure her grandfather had never looked so good in a pair. Cat smiled to herself. She was also pretty sure her grandfather had never worn low-cut leather pants, either.
This would be her one small concession. She’d buy the magazine, just this once. She’d resisted all the others, but him being on the cover of the world’s most iconic music magazine was something he’d dreamed of, craved, all those years ago. This one she would cherish.
“Mornin’, Catherine.”
Cat jumped and slapped the magazine to her chest. She turned as Roland Suffolk nodded her way. She swallowed to clear her suddenly dry throat.
“Mayor.”
He smiled and continued on his way toward the back of the store, his loud laugh behind her making her jump. A slight smile briefly lifted her mouth. She was certain Roland had a thing for the newsagency owner and the local rumour mill was in agreeance with her on that.
Cat made her way to the counter, smiled and paid, thankful that the cashier was the new girl, and stuffed the magazine into the bowels of her tote. She would read it in private, where she could look and forget for a while, fantasising how her life might have been different.

Cat slid the key into the shopfront door. A familiar hop scratch sounded behind her. She turned to see a black-and-white bird sitting on the boardwalk railing, staring at her with his head cocked to the side.
“Good morning, George.”
The little currawong tapped his beak on the broad railing. Cat laughed. “Hang on a second, would you?”
The door lock tumbled with a familiar rumbling click. Cat breathed the scent of fresh, sweet baking deep into her lungs, holding it, letting it fill her soul, as she stepped into her shop.
She grabbed the small container of birdseed from the countertop where she’d left it the night before and stepped back outside across the wide boardwalk, popping the lid of the container as she went. Tipping a small amount into her hand, she placed it carefully onto the railing.
George tilted back his head and let out a low-pitched warble of approval.
Cat left him to it and returned to her shop, shutting the door behind her. The little currawong had his routine down pat. He knew all the times that each shop would open and dutifully sat outside each one as the owners turned up for work, only returning to his nest in the nearby park when his belly was full.
The shop owners didn’t disappoint. The town’s mascot was extremely well looked after.
The massive clock that sat above the coffee machine chimed the hour. Six AM. She shut the door behind her and left the sign reading closed. Technically she didn’t open for another two hours.
Pink, purple, and yellow neon lettering on her wooden window sign flickered to joyous life when she flicked the switch. A small, satisfied smile twisted her lips, as it did every time she saw her sign light up.
Kitty Cat’s Cupcakes.
Mine.
Her shop. Her hard-earned money had all gone into this, the life-long dream to one day own her own bakery, stocked entirely with cupcakes of every description.
She knew some people thought of her as a spoiled, poor-little-rich-girl type, a trust-fund baby, but it was far from the truth.
She hit the light switches with a little more vigour than she needed, anger at some people’s assumptions slipping past her usually calm veneer. The centre marble display erupted in a glittering glow from the overhead chandelier. Her new synthetic silver-and-pale-orange flower display sat alone atop it, waiting for the arrival of the cupcakes that were a hit with locals and tourists alike.
Cat walked past the gleaming, crystal-clear cabinets that would house some of today’s offerings, and through the swinging doors into the kitchen.
She’d refused every single offer from her father to help with setting up her business, whether to buy equipment, lease the building, or money. Especially the money. Oh, he had plenty of it, but that wasn’t the point. This was the one thing she could honestly say that was hers, and hers alone. The only thing she’d let him help with was to go through her business plan with her. He’d approved, and had suggested a few tweaks. His approval was something that shouldn’t matter to a grown woman, but it had reinforced her deep-seated belief that she was doing the right thing.
She’d opened her doors almost three years ago. Her thirtieth birthday was her personal deadline to have a positive bottom line.
That birthday was today.
She grinned into the kitchen, the benches full of orderly lines of different-flavoured cupcakes that she’d made the night before. She’d seen the accountant only yesterday, and her little dream was looking good. Great, even. Possibly enough to make even her business-tycoon father crack a smile at the sizeable profits she was returning.
Right, then. Time to frost some cupcakes.

Chapter Two
Zac pushed his sunglasses higher on his nose and fought to keep his expression neutral.
Nausea swirled with nervousness, anger, and not a small amount of regret through him as he walked slowly toward the Lakewalk.
Twelve years. Plenty had changed in little Kurrajong Crossing, the enormous man-made lake not the biggest. The little creek had been dammed and made into a wide lake, the boardwalk he was on spanning one whole side, then down under the bridge that was still the main highway over the creek. Immaculate shopfronts sparkled, their lights left on for the tourists who had made the sad little town into the thriving sub-alpine holiday destination it now was.
The Chamber of Commerce’s savvy marketing team had certainly stepped up and turned things around to the benefit of everyone who lived here.
He tried not to breathe too deeply, tried not to take in too much of this town that he’d left behind. But the familiar, biting air crept in, squeezing past his clenched teeth, down into his lungs, forcing him to breathe, to remember.
He stopped, overcome by all the things he’d done wrong. All the things that had made him the man he was today. He closed his eyes. Good times glimmered at the edges of his mind, overshadowed by the undertow of hurt that sought to drown him if he gave in to it. He’d loved this place.
He gulped in another frigid breath and held it. Damn it, he’d missed this place far too much. The town itself, and some of the people in it. The familiar scent seeped deep inside and curled around his soul, begging him to come home.
His eyes flew open.
No.
That would never happen. They’d never forgive him, not even now. The good kid from the poor part of town, gone bad. The remembered looks on everyone’s faces, of people he’d grown up with, adults he’d looked up to, the sheer horror and disappointment flooding their eyes as the reality of the situation sank in …
No. This was the one place in all of Australia that would not welcome him, the one place that would wish he’d stayed anonymous and forgotten.
He straightened up and lengthened his stride. His heavy boots rang out eerily in the still, early evening air. He tugged up the hood of his jacket, shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets and headed up the open mall. A large billboard on the wall of the pub caught his attention.
He’s BACK! Celebrate Christmas in July with our own Xander Mac, here! Bookings Essential!
A huffing laugh burst from him. Xander was the town’s golden child. Xander had been a good kid. Quiet. What he remembered of him, anyway. A slow warmth wound through him that Xander was doing so well. He couldn’t help but wonder if things had been different, if he’d made different choices that night, if that could’ve been him they were welcoming home with such fanfare.
Nervous fingers found and fiddled with the edges of his phone in his pocket, snapping the case off then on, over and over.
Would she even talk to him?
Hell, he was nearly thirty, it wasn’t like he was a clueless teen anymore. You’d think that after being able to play to a bursting crowd at Wembley Stadium and not being nervous, that he’d be able to approach one person in private.
The problem was, Catherine van Alden wasn’t just anybody.
She’d not responded to a single letter or postcard. Admittedly he hadn’t sent many the last few years. Even he wasn’t so stupid that he couldn’t see the truth, that she didn’t want anything to do with him. He just hoped this last-ditch attempt to apologise and lay the past to rest worked.
He let a humourless bark of laughter escape. It was funny how your life could go from incredible and full of promise, to total rubbish in a few short hours.
A warm, welcoming glow spilled from the immaculate panes of glass and pierced the evening gloom, highlighting the warm, wooden Lakewalk boards. He tugged his sunglasses from his eyes and shoved them into a pocket.
Simple but elegant porcelain cake stands sat forlorn upon a centre platform and side countertops, devoid of their bounty, barring a few missed crumbs here and there. In the centre of the front window, the shop’s name gleamed out at him in pastel neon.
Perhaps he had a chance after all.
Zac noted the Closed sign on the door in front of him. She wouldn’t leave all the lights blazing like this if she’d already gone home. All the shops on the main mall had only a single light in front-of-house on. He tried the handle and stepped into what he imagined heaven would smell like. The soft scent of sweet cake, underlined with the faint lingering bitter tang of coffee, stained the warm air.
An ancient brass doorbell rang above his head as he shut the door behind him.
One lone cupcake stood beneath a glass dome to his left. Pale cream-coloured frosting rose high in intricate, delicate swirls, looking all the world like the head of a rose. He lifted the dome and picked up the cupcake.
Wow.
It was an exquisite work of art. He angled it into the light. A darker line of violet swirled through each layered petal. It sparkled faintly with a pearlised reflection in the light, like it was peppered with fairy dust.
A faint squeak and a friendly, “I’m sorry, we’re closed,” brought his head around.
Zac’s hand dropped, the cupcake all but forgotten. His gaze raked up her body, from delicious hot-pink-painted toes in strappy orange sandals, up over white pedal pusher pants and fitted fifties-style halter-neck shirt, to her sharply cut, raven-black retro bob hairstyle. She could’ve been an extra for Grease.
Or the main character.
Intense longing threatened to overwhelm him. She was here, finally right in front of him, and he couldn’t even touch her.
Her gaze flicked to the cupcake he still held, and her smile faltered. Unease flashed across her face, to be replaced with an over-bright smile.
“Why don’t you keep that? It’s the last one. I really must lock up; I have a function to get to.”
Zac blinked. She must’ve gotten spooked, not being able to see his face. He supposed he could understand why; he was just some random, hoodie-covered man in her empty shop.
“Thanks.” He shoved the hood back off his head and held out the cake on his palm. “Happy birthday, Kitty.”

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

He’s the last person she ever wants to see again…

Zac Hartford swore he’d never return to sleepy Kurrajong Crossing, but after finally making it big in the music business there’s only one thing left on his mind—to ask for forgiveness from the only woman he’s ever loved. If that means stepping foot in the town that turned its back on him, so be it. He’s not there to cause trouble. He’ll simply find Cat, say his piece, and leave.

The last person Catherine Van Alden expects to see in her tiny cupcake shop is Zac—a man she hasn’t seen or spoken to since he destroyed her family and vanished all those years ago. Her desire to think the best of him hasn’t changed a bit, but he’s obviously keeping secrets and she can’t let him into her life again. Not without opening up a world of hurt and feelings best left behind.

When the truth is finally revealed, is Cat strong enough to go after the man she never stopped loving?

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Meet the Author:

Dakota lives in a (not so) sunny part of Queensland, Australia, with her human and fur kids, and harbors a strange love of UGG boots. K- and J-Pop feature heavily in her home, especially when drafting her novels, drawing inspiration for her heroes from the music videos and anime, much to her children’s delight and her husband’s sufferance. She loves writing both alpha and beta heroes, all of whom she tortures and makes fall to their knees before their heroines and beg for mercy.
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