Spotlight & Giveaway: Insider by Rebecca Crowley

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Rebecca Crowley to HJ!

Hi Rebecca and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Insider!

Please summarize the book for the readers here:

Insider introduces the Brody brothers, a trio of Londoners who put their high-flying journalism careers aside to pool their money and save an historic newspaper from bankruptcy.

In this first installment we met Oren, the eldest brother and the paper’s editor in chief. Oren has the weight of the world on his shoulders, trying to keep the paper afloat and his brothers in line, and he’s also hell bent on getting to the bottom of his mother’s recent and unexpected death. While poking around at the hospital where she died he meets sexy emergency-room doctor Grace Reilly, and gets a lot more than the lead he bargained for.
 

Please share the opening lines of this book:

“And that’s how a few minor investments can significantly enhance the emergency department at St. Hilda’s Hospital. Thank you for listening.”
Grace bowed her head as thunderous applause filled the lecture hall. The gesture had the dual function of feigning gratitude while hiding the cynical twist of her mouth.

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

I’ve always been fascinated by the world of journalism – might have something to do with being married to a journo! – and especially by the fast-paced, cutthroat Fleet Street culture in the UK. There’s something particularly sexy about a man on a mission, powered by the pursuit of truth and justice, armed with nothing more than a notebook. Each of the Brody brothers work in an area of reporting I find fascinating: Oren is scratching for leads to crack a case, middle-brother Asher is a salty war reporter, and the youngest, Ebon, tackles the sticky world of politics.

Although we’ve recently returned to my native USA and reside in Houston, I lived overseas for ten years, six of which I spent in London. I still feel like London is my second home – second to wherever I happen to be at the minute, given how much we’ve moved! London is integral to Insider and to the entire series, and I deliberately set the stories in the moody seasons I most associate with the city – autumn, winter, and very early spring. The short days and heavy skies give everything a sense of secrecy and closeness which I hope readers can feel.

Please tell us a little about the characters in your book. As you wrote your protagonist was there anything about them that surprised you?

I always seem to set out to write hero-led stories and end up focusing on the heroine’s journey instead! When I started writing Insider I thought Oren, with his weighty professional and personal burdens, would be the one needing saving. In the end, though, the greatest transformation was Grace’s, who had wounds deeper than I expected that she needed to heal before she could fall in love. Spoiler: she does!

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

Grace and Oren play a lot of cat-and-mouse, navigating personal stakes and growing sexual tension. One of their earlier encounters ends rather unexpectedly – at least from Oren’s perspective.

They walked out in silence. He held the door for her, and she inclined her head as she passed through. The bus stop was steps away. Grace didn’t say anything when they reached it so he stayed by her side, hands in his jacket pockets.
He watched a man close up a fruit and veg shop across the street, sweeping the floor, locking the register. His dad must’ve done the same hundreds of times in the series of menial jobs he’d held when he and his brothers were growing up. Married in secret against the wishes of his mother’s much wealthier family, his parents came to London with nothing more than a handful of coins and the dream of a better life.
No matter how long the hours, how bad the conditions, or how poorly his bosses treated him, his dad always insisted things would get better. He kept working. He never gave up.
Oren watched the man in the shop turn off the lights, but his mind was on the woman next to him.
Was he giving up?
He turned to Grace the same instant the man pulled the metal grate down over the windows.
“I heard everything you said. I heard you, and I respect you. I also really want to kiss you right now.”
She looked at him sharply, but she didn’t speak. She didn’t look away, either.
Over her head he saw her bus turning onto the road. He didn’t have much time.
“Go on, Grace,” he urged. “You said you don’t trust me. That I’m not who you’re looking for. It should take no effort at all to tell me to bugger off.”
“Bugger off,” she snapped automatically, but her expression said she wasn’t finished with him yet.
“Absolutely. I’ll just see you on your way.” He raised his palms in innocence as the bus approached.
She stuck out her hand to signal to the driver before pivoting back to face him. Then she fisted her hand in beneath his collar and pulled him into a kiss.

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

I hope Insider gives readers a satisfying introduction to a trio of heroes driven by their ideals, and matched only by the equally independent, motivated heroines they fall for. Plus lots of juicy sexy times, obviously!

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

At the time of writing I’m 39 weeks pregnant with my second child, so I’m mostly working on packing my hospital bag! Beyond baby’s arrival, though, I have quite a few ideas for new series, it’ll just be a question of finding the time to get them finished.

In the meantime the other two books in the London Phoenix series will release in quick succession. Undercover follows middle Brody brother Ebon, a super sexy, brooding, over-it war reporter who finds himself in a fake relationship with American spitfire documentary filmmaker Ada Hunter. Off the Record, the third book in the series, is a friends-to-lovers tale with the added complication that Ebon Brody’s longtime bestie, Sophie Caplan, also happens to be his biggest professional rival.
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: Ebook of Insider by Rebecca Crowley and Tule swag

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: Since it’s boiling hot here in midsummer Houston, I’m dreaming of the rainy London autumn depicted in Insider. What’s your favorite cool-weather destination? Or are you a dedicated sunseeker?

 
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Excerpt from Insider:

Oren peered one last time at the lit windows topping the end of the Victorian terrace. Grace’s flat. Maybe her bedroom.
He’d soon find out.
Unfamiliar reluctance had stalled him on the doorstep, lowered his hand a second before he pressed the bell. He didn’t want to mislead her again. He also desperately needed to get her on his side, be his source into the hospital, and review his mother’s case file so he could figure out what had gone so horribly wrong that summer morning. His father needed closure, his brothers needed answers, and the Phoenix needed a scoop.
It all rode on his shoulders.
He set his jaw and pressed the bell.
The door unlocked with a buzz and he pushed inside, then made his way up creaking steps to the top floor. Grace’s flat was the only one on this level, and he raised his arm to knock.
His fist was still midair when she opened the door.
“Hello,” she greeted him smoothly.
“Hi,” he managed, before the sight of her robbed his ability to speak. She wore a sheer blouse unbuttoned over a matching set of sapphire-blue lingerie. The lace pattern thickened in exactly the spots he wished it wouldn’t, then teasingly thinned to transparency. Her blonde hair hung in loose waves to her jawline, and her peach-pink lips curved in invitation.
“Don’t worry. I picked these up from Primark on my way home. Barely cost a tenner.” She stepped forward and gripped the zippered edges of his jacket, her eyes never leaving his. “Go ahead. Rip them to shreds.”
His cock sprang to attention on a surge of lust so powerful it momentarily clouded his vision. His basest instincts howled like guard dogs pulling at their chains. It took almost everything he had to remain still, but he did.
“We need to talk.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “The four words I want to hear least right now.”
She grabbed his elbow to tug him over the threshold. He didn’t move.
“I need to tell you something.”
“Touch me first. Tell me later.”
Her eyes flashed with impatience. His body urged him onward. Desire roared in his ears.
Still he hesitated.
He wanted her. He also needed her, for access and intel. Their physical chemistry should’ve been a perfect route to jump-starting an investigation that was dying in the water.
If only it didn’t require him to lie.
He said her name, and was still deciding what to say next when a door slammed on the floor below. The sound echoed up the stairwell like a gunshot and sliced through his focus, putting him just enough off-balance that when Grace yanked on his jacket he stumbled forward and into her kiss.
The press of her lips swung an ax through the tethers of his self-restraint, unmooring him completely. Every throb of blood in his veins demanded fulfillment. The truth could wait.
Grace shoved him back as firmly as she’d dragged him in.
“Shut the door,” she commanded. “Then follow me.”
He obliged, unable to keep the smile off his face as he watched the smooth, pale swell of her arse peeking from the edges of her lace knickers. Their first encounter had been impulsive, heady, rushed. Tonight he would take his time.
She led him to the lounge. He had a brief impression of a slightly sloped ceiling, a big dormer window facing onto the street, and flourishes of feminine decorating before abandoning the struggle to tear his eyes away from the creamy flesh her lingerie made little effort to conceal.
Grace dropped onto the sofa. “Take off your coat.”
He arched a brow. “Does this mean—”
“Now.”
Oren grinned. He’d never been with a woman this bossy before.
He quite liked it.
He shucked off his jacket and tossed it onto the ottoman.
“Shoes and socks. Get the boring stuff over with,” she instructed with a wave of her hand.
He obeyed, toeing his chukka boots out of the way.
Grace straightened, and leveled him with a cool gaze as she slipped one bra strap down a slim shoulder. “Take off your shirt.”
His heart rate quickened, but his fingers were steady and confident as he made quick work of the buttons. The crisp, pale blue cotton crumpled into a heap on top of his jacket.
He stood patiently while she inspected him. He worked hard to keep trim, and he took pride in his defined, muscular build. She could look as long as she wanted.
“Very nice,” she murmured. She slid her hand inside her bra, and the change in her expression had his chest rising and falling from the heavy force of his breaths.
“Trousers.” The word’s hoarse edge had him fighting to conceal his urgency as he stepped out of them. He placed the grey chinos on the ottoman, then turned to face her, his erection testing the limits of his black briefs.
For a few seconds Grace simply watched him, the motion of her knuckles giving him tantalizing hints of what she might be doing to the nipple he’d felt but still hadn’t had a chance to see. He imagined the same peach pink of her lips, stiff and taut, a firm peak he’d close his lips around…
His cock twitched.
She noticed.
She inched forward to the edge of the sofa, then spread her legs wide. He remembered her making exactly the same motion on the desk in the hospital—saw it every time he closed his eyes to sleep.
She slid her other hand over her breast and down the flat plane of her stomach until it disappeared beneath her knickers. Her wrist began a slow, circular motion, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from groaning at the sight.
The twin swells of her breasts began to heave. She jerked a nod, which he interpreted as her final instruction. He stripped off his briefs.
Grace licked her lips, increasing the pace beneath her knickers. He gripped the base of his shaft, desperate for contact, but she shook her head and he let go.
He dropped his hands to his sides. For now he’d take his pleasure in watching hers.
Then it would be his turn.
Her hand moved faster and faster, her breathing so harsh and ragged he could hear every rasp from where he stood. He longed to rip open that lace gusset blocking his view, to plunge his fingers into the wet heat beneath, to take control of her climax, to tease her and taunt her and keep her on the edge until he was good and ready to let her finish.
Instead he watched. Held her gaze until her eyes rolled shut. Licked his lips as beads of sweat appeared on her hairline. Inhaled deeply as the powdery scent of her perfume filled the room.
Too quickly she pitched forward, her moan guttural, her hand stilling beneath the lace. After a moment she exhaled huskily, then flopped back on the cushions, eyes closed.
He finally gave in to the temptation to touch her. He moved closer to the couch and leaned forward, studying the long arch of her neck. The blonde tint at the ends of her eyelashes. He ran his thumb over her forehead, then smoothed back a lock of hair the colour of the last gasp of daylight fading into dusk.
Her hand clamped on to his wrist.
He smiled as her lids rose lazily, revealing those bright emerald eyes he’d dreamt about for days. Time for round two.
“This lingerie is lovely, but I’d like to see what’s underneath.”
“I bet you would,” she said icily.
Suddenly she was on her feet, dragging him through the flat with an iron grip. He followed her, eager to see the next part of their game—until he saw the front door.
“What are you doing? Are we done?” he asked as she threw the bolt and hauled open the door.
“So done,” she confirmed, pushing him into the hallway. Her mouth twisted with anger as she tried to slam the door but he held it open, fighting to make sense of the situation.
“Grace, wait. What happened? I need my clothes.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “I’ll send them to the newspaper, Oren Brody.”
Shock collided with guilt and loosened his hold on the door. Grace shut it so hard the metal flat number rattled on its screws.
He swore under his breath, his mind racing. Forget his clothes and his begging cock—he couldn’t lose his one lead into St. Hilda’s.
“I couldn’t tell you who I was at the hospital—I snuck in,” he called quickly, praying she hadn’t already walked away. “I didn’t expect our situation to escalate the way it did.”
He waited, listening for any sign that she was still on the other side of the door.
A floorboard creaked. She was there.
“I planned to tell you tonight. I would’ve told you first thing, but you were so…insistent.”
“So it’s my fault now?” she snapped, her irritation ringing through the thick wood separating them.
“That’s not what I said,” he shot back, then cringed at his own sharpness. He shoved his hand through his hair, trying to keep his temper under control. “Let me in. We’ll put the kettle on and I’ll explain everything.”
The dull, diminishing sound of movement—was she walking away? A distant squeak and slam, and he caught something fluttering outside from the corner of his eye.
He moved to the window in the stairwell and peered outside.
His clothes were in a pile on the street.
He bolted back and pounded hard on her door, frustration overwhelming his sense of diplomacy.
“Dammit, Grace, you can’t toss me out like this. At least give me a chance to—”
“To spin more lies? No thanks,” came the reply.
“Technically I never lied to you. I just didn’t correct your assumptions.”
She laughed bitterly. “I guess that makes it all right, then. What was I thinking? Please excuse my deeply unfair reaction and bugger off out of my life.”
He fisted his hand in his hair again, trying to calm down, trying to regain his focus and stop mucking this up. He needed Grace in more ways than one, and if he didn’t pull himself together his biggest problem wouldn’t be walking bare-arsed into the street.
“Grace, please,” he said as gently as he could. “I need your help. Remember those questions I asked you at the hospital, about how it’s managed? I’m working on an investigation for the Phoenix. We got an anonymous tip. A corporation might be interfering in the way the hospital is run. I don’t know how, but I won’t stop until I do.”
He paused for her reply.
Silence.
He pressed his forehead against the door. He might be talking to himself, but he had to try. Had to hope she heard him.
“I shouldn’t tell you any of this. You could pick up the phone to one of the Phoenix’s rivals right now and let them scoop us. They’d be delighted—might even pay you for the tip. But I trust you. I think you have concerns about St. Hilda’s, too. And I know you’ll do what it takes to protect the patients who walk through the doors of that hospital looking for help.”
He held his breath, straining to hear even the slightest noise to indicate Grace wasn’t long gone.
His blood pounded in his ears. Car tires swished against the slightly damp asphalt outside. The woman inside the flat said nothing.
He stepped back from the door. He’d made a right bodge of this one, and he’d never hear the end of it from his brothers. Nothing to be done now, though, except cross his fingers he hadn’t jeopardised the entire story by giving Grace so much detail. He’d find another source somehow, even if it meant going all the way back to the drawing board.
He swallowed hard on his regret as he turned to leave. He’d built his career out of honesty and calm self-possession. He couldn’t believe he’d let one woman throw him into such a tailspin, especially since she was the first woman to pique his interest—not to mention his libido—in a long time.
He’d made it down two steps when he heard the door open.
He glanced over his shoulder just in time to get a wad of cotton in his face. He caught the thrown briefs before they hit the ground, then looked up to find Grace staring at him through the two inches she’d cracked open the door.
“Thanks for these.” He started to smile, but thought better of it when he read the lingering hostility in her expression.
“It’s my service to womankind. Wouldn’t want a cock like that getting frostbite,” she informed him dryly.
“I appreciate it.” He tugged on the briefs, noting with absurd disappointment that she’d pulled a silk robe on over her lingerie.
She’s still standing there, his reporter’s instinct hollered, and he took a step up. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about the hospital. At the very least, would you consider taking a look at a case file I’ve gotten my hands on? Or point me toward someone who—”
“You don’t give up,” she remarked, shaking her head.
“Never.”
“How is a corporation meddling with the hospital?”
“I don’t know yet,” he told her honestly. “The tip pointed to a pharmaceutical company. Maybe someone is taking bribes, or reselling medicine. Somehow money is going into St. Hilda’s, but it’s disappearing before it reaches the frontlines.”
She frowned, opened her mouth as if about to speak—and then changed her mind.
He felt her withdrawal like steam billowing out through an open window and hurried up another step, desperate to pull her back in.
“Don’t decide now,” he urged. “And don’t let me be the reason one way or the other. You can work with one of my brothers—you won’t have to speak to me again if you don’t want to.”
Her face hardened. He’d made the wrong move.
“There’s nothing to decide. I won’t put my job on the line for the half-baked hunches of a serial liar. Time for you to go now, Oren.”
“Wait, if you’ll just—”
She slammed the door shut, and the decisive sound of her footsteps retreating from the entryway told him she wouldn’t come back.
He slumped against the wall. He could swear he’d seen a flash of recognition in her eyes. What he’d said about the hospital had resonated with her own suspicions, he was certain.
He started down the stairwell, jaw set with determination.
Grace was exactly the key he needed to unlock all of St. Hilda’s ugly secrets, and it would take a lot more than tossing his clothes out a window to deter him.
He’d never given up on a source since the day he wrote his first article. He sure as hell wouldn’t start now.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

If they tear down their walls, can they break the story wide open?

ER doctor Grace Reilly thrives on patching up her patients, propping them back on their feet and sending them home healthier, yet emotionally she feels flat on her back after being deceived by her ex-boyfriend. She’s shelved her malfunctioning romantic radar, possibly forever. But she’s not opposed to no strings attached sex, especially when she meets the brooding and enigmatic Oren Brody. Even better? After giving her a mind blowing orgasm with no reciprocal expectations, he vanishes as mysteriously as he appeared.

Six months ago Oren Brody and his brothers, Asher and Ebon, bought the London Phoenix newspaper to save the esteemed daily from bankruptcy. They need a big scoop or a budget shortfall could shut them down. A confidential tip about corruption and potential medical malfeasance points Oren toward St. Hilda’s Hospital – the same hospital where his mother unexpectedly died after a visit to the ER for a pounding headache. He needs answers, and Grace seems to be the key. He’d tracked her down hoping she could be a source. Seducing her was accidental, but he finds himself unable to ignore their zinging chemistry and he doesn’t really want to.

Oren needs to earn Grace’s trust, but that’s a big ask since their first meeting began with a lie and ended with sexual fireworks. Grace has already been deceived by one lover, can she forgive and forget and give Oren a chance?

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Meet the Author:

Rebecca Crowley inherited her love of romance from her mom, who taught her to at
least partially judge a book by the steaminess of its cover. She writes contemporary
romance with smart heroines and swoon-worthy heroes, and never tires of the happily-
ever-after. Having pulled up her Kansas roots to live in New York City, London and
Johannesburg, Rebecca currently resides in Houston.
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