Spotlight & Giveaway: Holding Out for a Gyro by Mary Ann Marlowe

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Mary Ann Marlowe to HJ!

Hi Mary and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Holding Out for a Gyro!

Hello! Excited to be here.
 

Please summarize the book a la Twitter style for the readers here:

Grumpy romance-cynic Chelsea has a weakness for delicious foods. Dared to bare her heart to a total stranger for one evening, she confesses way too much to sunshine romance-junkie Bas, who just *happens* to be the chef at the gourmet grocery store she’s addicted to.
 

Please share the opening lines of this book:

I had this neat trick. Close my eyes, and I could zip off anywhere in the world.

This unseasonably warm October breeze could spirit me away to beaches along the Mediterranean coast. The not-so-subtle notes of Acqua de Gio and Aramis conjured any random bar from New York City to Tokyo. Broken bits of conversation mingled, indistinguishable from Spanish or French or Greek.

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

• Chelsea and her best friend, Elizabeth, created a checklist of real-life challenges they dare each other to complete–for therapy.
• Bas is the victim of one of their bar dares, and when he realizes Chelsea is sworn to total honesty for the night, he gets her to confess that she’s not interested in romance….but that she’s attracted to him.
• Chelsea dreams of travel, and Elizabeth has gamified their checklist to add new potential vacation destinations as they complete challenges.
• Bas is second-generation Greek, and he has a huge family with lots of opinions about Bas’s love life, career, and everything else.
• Chelsea’s weakness is food, and since Bas is a chef, he knows one unfair way into her heart. There is a lot of food in this book.

What first attracts your main characters to each other?

Surprise. Bas is charmed by Chelsea’s candor when she overshares her belief that she’s not girlfriend material. Chelsea expects those confessions to drive him away, and she can’t figure out why he seems even more interested. His light touch and dorky humor disarm her, and then when he provides temptation in the form of his cooking, she can’t help give him one more chance. And then another.
 

Using just 5 words, how would you describe your main characters”love affair?

Sparks, laughter, friendship, risk, trust
 

The First Kiss…

I let my palm fall against her cheek. I had to ask, while she might tell me. “If you don’t want a boyfriend, what do you want? Nothing? Friends with benefits? A one-night stand?”

“Are you offering?”

I searched her eyes. Was she serious? After she’d worried about Elizabeth going home with a strange man, I figured she’d be more circumspect. I set my sights on what I could realistically achieve in the here and now. “Would you be offended if I said I’d love to kiss you?”

“You’ve been staring at my lips all night, so you’re not dropping any bombshells here.”

“May I?”

I braced myself, longing for a yes, preparing for a no. She seemed to consider the request but pulled slightly away. “And then what?”

Fuck it. I wasn’t going to leave without at least trying. “And then whatever you want.”

She scoffed. “What if I just want sex?”

I swallowed hard. It was so forward, but did she mean it? I’d never managed a purely physical relationship, though in retrospect, my passion always ran its course fast enough that my “serious” relationships turned out to be as casual as a hookup. Evan called me Easy Lover because I loved the idea of falling in love, and I often got ahead of myself, imagining how every woman I flirted with might fit into my future. I’d already fallen half in love with this woman I’d just met, and here Chelsea had proclaimed herself a romantic cynic.

But I couldn’t resist the temptation. “Would you like to come inside?”

Her eyebrows rose. “I was hoping you would ask.”

The dog barked as I unlocked the door to my embarrassingly small house. I shared this rental with a roommate, but as a medical resident, Farrid worked long hours. The foyer was empty and dark. I crossed the den and slid open the patio doors to let Pepper run outside. When I turned back, Chelsea leaned against the Formica counter, waiting.

“Do you want something to drink?” I asked.

She shook her head, so I stepped closer.

“Would you like to sit and talk?”

She sucked on her lower lip, let her teeth drag across it, and my cock stiffened. Her eyes closed as I neared. I brushed her hair from her temple, bent close, and whispered, “What do you want, Chelsea?”

Her eyes opened, and she leaned in, a breath away. “I want you to kiss me.”

I grasped her hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her to me, so I could taste those burgundy lips. She smelled like summer, like coconut and honeysuckle. Our mouths crushed together, her berry lip gloss sticky and sweet. When her tongue brushed mine, I unearthed a groan.

Without revealing too much, what is your favorite scene in the book?

One thing I love about writing romance is watching characters work through their toxic beliefs about themselves or their world–until they finally get a clue and start to grow toward a healthier mindset. One of my favorite scenes in Holding Out for a Gyro is when Bas recognizes he should stop expecting romantic-cynic Chelsea to capitulate and instead learns to appreciate her in the moment.

This was my one shot. I spoke to her profile. “I told you I’d be whatever you wanted me to be, and I broke my promise. I’m sorry.”

Finally she turned to face me. “I probably owe you an apology, too. I shouldn’t have let down my guard. I gave you the wrong idea.”

Her expression was a mask of tough nonchalance. She forgot I’d seen past her fortresses. I’d seen her cry. I knew her demeanor was all bravado.

So I said what she expected me to say. “Remember when I told you I wasn’t infinitely patient, that I wouldn’t wait for you forever?”

Her eyes closed, and I sensed that drawbridge slamming into place. “Yeah. Bravo for you.”

I slid in close enough I could have leaned in for a kiss. “I was stupid thinking I could wait for you to come around.”

“I believe that’s exactly what I told you.” She opened her eyes and stared me down with such fierce pride, but her chest rose and fell with dread.

“I’ve had a week to think about everything, and I’ve come to my senses.”

Her jaw clenched, and she glared at me. “Well, I did warn you.”

“I’m not waiting, Chelsea.”

She started to back away. “Congratulations. I knew you’d cut your losses sooner or later. Thanks for coming all the way up here to drive a stake into my expectations.”

I laid a hand on hers, and she paused, eyebrows drawn together in hurt and confusion. “What I mean is: this isn’t waiting, Chelsea.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that there’s nothing to wait for. I was an idiot for thinking we needed to plant a flag in some imaginary future. My sister basically told me I was being selfish because I needed security. But if you’re willing to be a part of my life, then I’m right where I want to be. Now.”

“You talked to your sister?”

“Yeah, Zoe. And Elizabeth.”

“What did Elizabeth say?”

“She told me I already have everything I need from you. It made me realize, I can’t ask you to promise me tomorrow if I’m not showing up for you today.”

Her brow furrowed. “Are you asking me to promise you tomorrow?”

“Actually.” I swallowed. I didn’t know if what I said next would make things better or worse. “I’m asking you to promise me a month. Give me until the end of the year.”

“A month. To what end?”

“I can’t lie and say I don’t want a future with you, if that’s what you ultimately want, but you say you don’t, and I trust you mean it. But can I steal a little time in the present?”

If your book was optioned for a movie, what scene would be absolutely crucial to include?

The movie would have to start with the meet-cute disaster, when Chelsea tries to maintain the challenge of being brutally transparent with a guy she wouldn’t mind a shallow hit-and-quit one-nighter with. Relationships scare her, and she’d rather push him away than give him an opening into her heart.

Basil tilted his head when I snort-laughed again. He pointed a knuckle at my cup. “Can I get you something?”

I wanted to let him buy me a drink, then ask me if I wanted to get out of here, go to his place, and lose ourselves in each other’s flesh for a few hours. I’d be ready and willing to say yes, but I wasn’t drunk enough to forget about tomorrow.

Besides, it was my turn in the hot seat. “Thanks, but I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.” My gaze met his, and I held my breath, steeled for the prying questions. The answers wouldn’t be easy, but I’d meet the requirement: I’d be genuine.

“What wrong idea? That you like free booze?”

I chuckled. “It’s just that I’m not in the market for what it implies.”

“You have a boyfriend?” His tone was a mix of casual flirtation and real interest.

“Ha. No. Never that.”

“Never? Why not?”

I desperately wanted to throw my walls up or reach into my bag of tricks and deflect the conversation to solid ground. This was none of his business. I didn’t owe him a foothold into my defenses, but if I wasn’t open right now, I’d forfeit the dare. “You might say I have commitment issues.”

Metallic acid coated my mouth as his smile dropped and the playful light in his eyes winked out. I held my head up, daring him to walk away.

He leaned in until we were separated only by a wave of atomic energy. “What’ve you got against relationships?”

I caught Elizabeth’s eye so I’d get full credit for this. No filters. All me. I took a deep breath. “I had a mean dad.”

If you don’t count all the strangers in Al-Anon and a dozen therapists, only a handful of people knew this about me. Authentic enough yet? My throat tightened, but I mastered my emotions. I would not cry in the middle of a bar like a cliché.

“That’s. Uh.” He frowned.

In for a penny. “One therapist told me I don’t feel like I’m worthy of love and won’t trust anyone who wants to be with me.”

He scratched his chin, and his eyelid twitched. One more confession and we’d be done here. I was going to send this hot guy running for the hills before he could sink his teeth into me.

“Another told me I’m rebelling against my mother’s life choices. But I think I’m possibly a sociopath, incapable of mixing sex with emotion.”

There. That should count enough to let me check it off the list. Elizabeth couldn’t expect anything more honest than that.

He hadn’t bolted yet, but his mouth twisted with concern. “Are you always so candid?”

“Actually, no.”

“No?” His dark eyebrows furrowed.

This was spinning out faster than even I’d anticipated. Elizabeth stepped in to spare me from drowning in sincerity. “Chelsea took a truth serum earlier tonight, and it hasn’t worn off yet.”

Readers should read this book …

• If you love a fun flirtatious romance with open-door spice
• If you like light-hearted humor balanced with some heavier emotions
• If you like good friends, big families, and found family
• If you love food and travel
• If you laugh at bad puns

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

I’m currently working on a companion book to Holding Out for a Gyro and a back log of projects I’d like to write The End on.

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: Digital copy of Holding Out for a Gyro and a $10 Amazon gift card.

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: Chelsea loves everything about traveling, even the airport. It’s a promise to get far away and forget her problems. The big reward for taking dares, like opening up to a total stranger, is new destinations to choose from for her annual vacation with her best friend. What would tempt you enough to have the courage to share your secrets to a total stranger?

 
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Excerpt from Holding Out for a Gyro:

When I entered the wine cellar below street level, I paused to breathe in the atmosphere, the damp musty smell of the underground, the chill of dank spaces. I loved this small store with its cramped inventory of curated wines. It was like stepping out of time, or out of place maybe, like I’d gone to France or Italy. And I let myself be transported as I perused the pinot.

My shoulder nudged someone, and I looked up, right into the curious face of one Basil Stavros.

I stopped breathing.

What were the odds?

“Oh,” I said.

“Oh, indeed.”

Stupid words fell out of my mouth. “Looking for wine?”

He chuckled. “No. I was looking for a book.” He glanced around. “Shit, is this a wine shop?”

I shook my head. His sense of humor had not improved. “Don’t they sell wine at your grocery store?”

“It’s not my grocery store, and yes, but it’s not fancy enough.”

“For who?”

“For my brother, Nicky. It’s his birthday next week, and he’s a surgeon.”

I tilted my head. “And that matters because?”

“Because I can’t show up with a bottle of wine with a screw top.”

Curiosity stifled the warning sirens in my head, and I had to ask, “Do you have many siblings?”

“Three sisters and a brother. I’m the baby. You?” He ran his fingers along the bottles, studying the labels.

I relaxed. Maybe he wasn’t interested in me after all. Maybe that night had been enough for him. “Only child.”

He hummed, like he was processing that. “I used to think I’d want to be an only child. What’s that like?”

Maybe because of how we met, truth tumbled out easily. “I never knew any different. I used to want a sister. But three? You and your brother must have had to team up.”

“My brother’s about to turn forty, so no. We didn’t spend a lot of time together.”

“Oh.” I didn’t have any experiences to draw from to respond to that.

“My sisters teamed up against me. You are looking at a man with a wealth of information about the various versions of Pride and Prejudice.”

I laughed. “You have a lot in common with Elizabeth.”

“You don’t have an opinion about Colin Firth?”

“Not particularly. What’s yours?”

“He’s the quintessential Darcy.” He pulled out a bottle of petite sirah, frowned, then put it back. “Although I loved him best in Bridget Jones.”

I pictured him, outmatched by three sisters, unable or unwilling to demand control of the remote to pick something he’d consider more masculine, and I envied his sisters. I’d never have dared reach for the remote unless my mom and I were home alone.

“What kind of wine are you looking for?” I perused the shelves. “I’ve tried many of these.”
He stopped scanning the wine and examined me. “I wonder how many times we’ve crossed paths without even knowing it.”

It had occurred to me, too. We might have spent years walking right past each other. How could I have been so blind? “Probably not that often.”

“I thought I saw you earlier. At work?”

“I didn’t see you.”

His expression pinched. “I guess that truth serum wore off, huh?”

I scoffed. “Excuse me? I’m not a liar.”

“What then? Secretive?”

“More like private.”

He splayed his palms. “Same diff.”

“So tell me then. When was the last time you had sex before me?”

His eyes blinked like a defibrillator. “Wow.”

“What’s wrong? Is that a secret?” I tilted my head to the side and cocked a brow. “Or do you just prefer to keep it private?” My voice came out raspier than I’d intended.

He pressed his lips together, then snorted a laugh. “Touché.” His gorgeous mouth curved into a frown. “So, you really didn’t see me in the coffee shop?”

“It’s possible,” I conceded. “We were pretty busy, but there might have been someone who looked like you.”

“I’ve probably been in that coffee shop a hundred times this year alone. How have we never met?”

“And I’ve been in your market nearly every day.” I moaned, thinking of the food there.

Mistake. Bas stared at my mouth, and I realized suddenly how close we stood. How the shelves pressed in on us, encouraging us. I swallowed back a memory of his cabinets rattling below me as I clung to him and begged him to fuck me harder.

“What do you typically buy at the market?” His voice came out thick, and he might as well have been coaxing me to come for him again. My heart skipped a beat, and heat pooled between my thighs.

“That Kahlua-soaked tiramisu for starters. Oh my God.” Were we seriously going to talk about food while his dark eyes sought mine, while he had me backed into the corner of this store—alone?

“Yeah?” He licked those fucking irresistible lips, a smile creeping its way out. “I created that. It’s not exactly organic, but—”

“But it’s orgasmic.” Had I just said that out loud? “I’ve drawn up legislation to make it legal to marry it.”

He coughed a laugh. “What else?”

“The baklava. Don’t tell me you make that, too.”

“You have a sweet tooth?”

“Yeah, but I also get the mushroom raviolis. The pasta there is to die for.”

I loved how his eyes shone, how his neck flushed whenever I praised his cooking. Or maybe the proximity was killing him, too.

“I’d love to cook something for you sometime.”

Oh. Not where I saw this going. “Thanks, but—”

“But you’re not in the market for a boyfriend.” He pressed those succulent lips together. “No strings. Just dinner.”

I considered it. And it would check another item off my list: Get a guy to cook you dinner. But it sounded too domestic. Too much like a real date, which was why Elizabeth had added it to the list in the first place. She knew what it would mean for me to let someone get that close. I shook my head. “You know I can buy your food any time I want it.”

And there it was. That look on his face at last. The realization his persistence wouldn’t pay off this time, and I wasn’t worth the effort. He reached out like he was going to caress my hair. Holding my breath, I braced for the spark of urgent need his touch would ignite.

Instead, he pulled out a bottle of Ca’ Bea del Maniero from the rack behind me.

“Good choice,” I said, my lips flattening.

“Plus, it’s on sale.” He grinned, the bastard. With a salute, he strode to the register. I stood gaping like I hadn’t been the one to reject him, then grabbed a bottle of the same vintage. Because it was on sale, not because I wanted a reminder of him.

Excerpts. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

When it comes to love, it’s all Greek to her…in this delightfully funny and lively romantic comedy that’s bound to be a hit for fans of Kate Clayborn or Lynn Painter.

If you’re really lucky, you have a best friend who pushes you to do the stuff that scares you. We have this whole thing where we challenge each other to take some (calculated) risks and do everything we’re terrified to do. Of course, when you avoid love at all costs, that means doing the unthinkable: being vulnerable.

So for one night, I’m going to be completely and brutally real about who I am…to a complete stranger, whose mischievous and ridiculously dark eyes promise all kinds of trouble. I’ll open the darkest corners of my soul to him. I’ll admit I run from love. That I believe in mind-blowing sex, not soul mates. Hell, I’ll even tell him why.

The problem is that instead of running screaming—the way I (and any level-headed commitment-phobe) would—the hot Greek guy is actually intrigued. I shouldn’t want to kiss him. I shouldn’t want more.

But I do.

It was just supposed to be a one-off thing. Bare my soul, flee at the stroke of midnight, and never see him again. But FML, I just discovered he’s the genius chef at my favorite organic kitchen and is single-handedly responsible for keeping me, and my stomach, so happy these past few months.

He’s the perfect Greek hero.

The only problem is that when it comes to romance…I might be the perfect villain.
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Meet the Author:

Mary Ann Marlowe is a romance junkie with wanderlust. She’s lived in twelve states and three countries, but she’s called the Charlottesville, Virginia area home for nearly twenty years. She’s held dozens of jobs from university-level French teacher to Wall Street computer programmer, got her black belt in karate, and beat Zelda Breath of the Wild. She loves to pull from her experiences when creating her fictional worlds. When she isn’t writing, she day jobs as a developer, hangs with her two amazing kids, and dreams of travel.
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