Spotlight & Giveaway: Midnight Duet by Jen Comfort

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Jen Comfort to HJ!

Hi Jen and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Midnight Duet!

Please summarize the book for the readers here:

Midnight Duet is my modernized, gender-flipped, rom-com retelling of The Phantom of the Opera, featuring Erika Greene, a disgraced Broadway diva, as The Phantom and a German hair metal band frontman as Christof, the ingenue who has come to Paris, Nevada to rent Erika’s dilapidated opera house in which he plans to record his band’s first English-language album. But when casino developer Raoul Decomte sets his sights on Erika’s opera house, she and Christof must work together to save it from ruin… if their illicit midnight singing lessons don’t set them both ablaze, first.
 

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

“She’s bewitching me.

Christof watched Erika play from the shadows of the balcony’s first row and fought the all-consuming urge to rush downstairs, prostrate himself at her feet, and pray to his new muse.

Her haunting song burst free of the organ’s pipes, air rushing from each chamber in plaintive wails. It was a song he recognized—though not by name—yet Erika seemed to do something to it. Something different. It sounded as if she were pouring her secrets out onto the ivory keys—and if it was a confession, it was not a pious one.

And the way she moved over the manuals, her spine curved forward, her silk robe trailing behind her . . . she was a seductive spider, spinning an invisible web for his ears alone.

He’d never wanted anything so badly as to be her prey.”

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

• Because I wanted to pay homage to both glam rock and the Andrew Lloyd Webber Phantom of the Opera, this book is wildly over-the-top and melodramatic! If you’re looking for subtlety, this is book is not it; this is atmospheric vibes, a bonkers plot, and “it goes to eleven” on the heat scale.
• I wrote an entire chapter around a “where’s Waldo?” joke.
• Raoul is the bad guy, because I could never stand Raoul’s character. Classic rich boy investing in a theater on a whim and then falling madly in love with the concept of Christine, when he barely knows her? No, thank you. The Phantom has made this theater–and his passion for Christine–his life’s purpose, and he’s put in the work. Raoul wouldn’t know what “work” was if it smacked him across his pouty face.
• There are several other ALW references throughout the book. For example, Erika’s rats are named Javert and Jean, and she sings “Memory” when she’s feeling sad.
• Erika loves to eat dark chocolate covered pretzels during her late-night lessons with Christof. Guess how many bags of Trader Joe’s dark chocolate covered pretzels I ate during the writing of this book? (Too many.)

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

– Erika has a thing for forbidden fruit, so the fact that Christof is initially “off-limits” makes him all the more appealing.
– Christof sees a kindred spirit in Erika–and also she’s got a banging booty.

Did any scene have you blushing, crying or laughing while writing it? And Why?

My favorite funny scene is when Sibylle, Christof’s misanthropic, goth little sister as well as the band’s bassist, tries to bond with Erika during a ride to Vegas. Grumpy v. Grumpy female friendships are my favorite to write!

“”””
Sibylle shrugged. “Oh, like you never have made mistakes. At least you don’t have a big brother reminding you every day of every small thing you have done wrong for the last twenty-four years.”
Erika laughed darkly. “I don’t need one. I only have to look in the mirror.”
The scribbling stopped. “Oh no. Don’t steal my thing.”
“Your thing?”
“Yes. In this band, I am the melodramatic one. You can’t be that one.”
“I’m not in your band,” Erika reminded her. “And for the record, I’m a Tony-nominated Broadway star. If I wanted to be melodramatic, you’d be hopelessly outclassed.”
“Ha! You? Please. I once hatched two crows from eggs and named them Death and Despair.”
Were Erika’s ears deceiving her? Because it almost seemed like, in her strange, misanthropic little way, Sibylle was attempting to . . . bond with her. And for some inexplicable reason, this made Erika vaguely, triumphantly giddy.
“I live in a basement sex dungeon with my pet rats,” Erika countered. “By choice.”
“See the vial on this choker?” Sibylle pointed to her spiked collar. “This is my ex-lover’s blood.”
Gross. But Erika would rather die than be upstaged. “And I’m horrifically scarred.” She pulled back her curtain of hair and tilted her head toward Sibylle to flaunt her skin graft.
“Mega geil,” Sibylle breathed.
“And!” Erika gloated. “I slept with my understudy’s boyfriend, and when she found out, she cursed me in dramatic fashion, which resulted in a freak accident that caused this scarring. An affliction which then exiled me from Manhattan high society and my theater career in one fell swoop, leaving me no choice but to retreat to this hellish shithole to wither away in solitary misery whilst ostensibly repenting for my many, many sins. Which I will continue to do until the opera house inevitably fails or I, presumably, die. Whichever comes first, I suppose.” Saying it
aloud made it sound even more ludicrous, but Sibylle only sucked in her breath in a way that was openly envious.
“Yes? Well, I . . .” Sibylle tapped her pencil against her lips, thinking. “I lost my virginity in a cemetery. On my mother’s grave.”
Erika smirked. “No, you didn’t.”
“Fine, that was Mary Shelley,” Sibylle grumbled, slouching impossibly farther into her seat. At this point, her knees were up to her chin, her platform boots propped on the dashboard. “But you still have to pick a different thing if you want to be in our band.”

Readers should read this book….

If you want a bonkers, high-heat, fast-paced romance that never takes itself too seriously.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have in the works?

I’m working on the nerdiest rom-com ever, but I can’t officially announce anything yet. In a way, all my books are tributes to different types of nerd-dom. The Astronaut and the Star was for my fellow space nerds, Midnight Duet is for my theater nerds, and this next book is for all my kindred trivia nerds out there who treat knowledge competitions like bloodthirsty sporting events.
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: A print copy of Jen Comfort’s MIDNIGHT DUET

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: If you could change anything about the original Phantom of the Opera story (Broadway or book), what would it be?

 
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Excerpt from Midnight Duet:

Waldo continued in his heavy accent, “Und then we have—”

“Christof,” a deep voice rumbled from above.

Now that’s a voice made for singing.

Erika craned her neck to see the man who’d clearly ignored the No Entry Past This Point sign at the base of each stairwell and now stood on the second-floor landing, his bare forearms casually draped over the balcony rail as he surveyed the foyer like he owned the place.

And for the first time since the day in third grade when Erika had stepped into the spotlight and a hushed audience had stared back from the darkness, her stomach flipped.

Christof was . . . too much. That was the only way to describe him.

He was egregiously tall, for one, and his skin was too fair to be wearing so much black. And it was way too early in the evening to have his shirt unbuttoned nearly to his navel, showcasing a fine dusting of chest hair that skimmed its way down a landscape of unnaturally defined muscle, tapering as it went, until it reached that single demure button he’d bothered to close before the blouse (and that was the only word for the too-silky garment he wore with the puff sleeves rolled up to his elbows) disappeared into the velvet (yes, really—velvet) pants he wore too low on his hips.

Was he auditioning for the cover of a pirate romance novel? For a pro wrestling persona? Was this a stage outfit or an everyday look?

And was that a guitar slung across his back, sans guitar case? What kind of serious musician walked around flaunting their guitar like it was some sort of accessory? How arrogantly, impractically absurd.

His hairstyle wasn’t helping either. Bleached ice white save for dark roots, he kept his wild locks way longer than most men dared. The dark scarf circling his forehead screamed, I’m a highwayman and I’m here to ravish you, but I shan’t muss my hair whilst doing so, and in theory, it should have looked tacky beyond salvation. It really, really should have.

But his face. None of the business above his shoulders should work.

Each feature, on its own, was too big.

His sloping nose was too long.

His dark brow too heavy.

His jaw too square.

His lips too pouty—had he gotten fillers? No, she decided. The bottom lip had a soft dip in its center, and you couldn’t recreate that with an injection. She’d tried fillers once, and for weeks afterward, her lips had been so disconcertingly smooth that she hadn’t been able to stop touching them in horrified wonder.

Natural, then. But still . . . too plush. No one needed lips like that.

The term obscene seemed too dramatic a description, but perhaps . . . on the cusp? Yes, that was it. He was like a song performed entirely in fortississimo—every note expressed at top volume. A song like that would normally irritate her. But Christof’s song . . . compelled.

She marveled at him posed up there on the balcony, her head tilted at an awkward angle to take in the view, unsure how he was pulling any of this off but certain, nevertheless, that he was. In spades. If Pulling It Off were a musical, he’d be its composer, writer, producer, director, and lead star.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

From The Astronaut and the Star author Jen Comfort comes a wildly electric romance about two musicians who collide on the stage of a Nevada opera house.

Self-professed diva Erika Greene has it all: a starring role on Broadway, legions of fans, spectacular natural talent. But after an accident on stage leaves her face scarred and her career in shambles, Erika retreats to Paris, Nevada, where she’s inherited a ramshackle opera house in desperate need of some TLC.

Erika pours her savings into the building, but it’s not enough to stave off casino developer Raoul Decomte’s avaricious gaze. With foreclosure imminent, she leases the space to some unexpected tenants: a German hair metal band, fronted by glam rock god Christof Daae.

Erika is tempted by Christof’s low-slung leather pants—and even more so by his ambitious drive to make Nacht Musik international superstars—but he’s off-limits. The rest of his band thinks he’s still dating their beloved keyboardist, who is conveniently not present on this jaunt to the American Southwest. When Erika finds out Christof’s been unceremoniously dumped and is trying to keep it under wraps, she makes a deal to keep his secret…for a price, of course.

Christof is desperate to hold the rest of the band together after his keyboardist’s departure, but he can’t maintain the charade forever. Nor can he resist the opera house’s mysterious proprietor, who tempts him with midnight singing lessons. It isn’t long before sensuous nighttime interludes turn into smoldering backstage encounters.

But can their newly ignited passion survive the searing light of day? Or will their beautiful duet turn into a brokenhearted power ballad for one?
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Meet the Author:

Jen Comfort is originally from Portland, Oregon, and dabbled in astrophysics before spending a decade working in restaurants in New York City and Portland. Now she writes romantic comedies about hot nerds with very cool jobs. She spends her free time growing plants destined to die before their time, playing video games, and encouraging her cat and malamute-husky dog to become internet famous, with zero success.
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