Spotlight & Giveaway: The Boyfriend Candidate by Ashley Winstead

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Ashley Winstead to HJ!

Hi Ashley and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, The Boyfriend Candidate!

 
Thanks for having me!
 

Please summarize the book for the readers here:

Alexis Stone is a shy librarian who’s always preferred her passionate adventures to happen within the pages of her favorite romance books. But when an ex accuses her of playing it so safe she’s become boring in life and in bed (ouch), Alexis decides to spice up her life…by having her first one-night stand. She meets a charming, gorgeous, and brash man named Logan—her total opposite—and to her surprise, her one-night stand dreams actually start to come true…until a fire erupts in their hotel and Alexis and Logan are forced to flee into the streets with the rest of the hotel guests.
There, people seem to be snapping an awful lot of pictures of Logan. Before Alexis can ask why, Logan stuns her by running away. Days later, photos of her and Logan in their sexy, disheveled state go viral. It turns out Logan is none other than Logan Arthur, gubernatorial candidate for the state of Texas and political wunderkind. When his campaign team begs Alexis to pretend to be in a serious relationship with Logan as damage control, she decides this is the real-life adventure she’s been waiting for…
 

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

1. His tongue in my mouth shot white-hot electricity through me, all the lust that had been simmering all night boiling over, and I thought, He would kiss like this. Exactly how he talks.
2. “We ran an exploratory poll,” Anita explained, “and people responded favorably to the idea of Logan in a relationship. And you couldn’t make for better optics: you’re pretty, connected to a Democratic senator, and an actual, honest-to-God elementary school librarian. Who even knew they made those anymore? You’re literally wearing a cardigan. Nice girl jackpot.”
3. “I thought kissing each other was against the rules. Am I the only person who can ever remember the damn rules?”
“You hate rules,” I said hotly, feeling a flush creep up my neck. “Everyone knows that.”
“But I follow them,” Logan burst. “You’re right, I do hate them. They hurt. Holding myself back makes me feel like I’m dying inside. But I do it, Alexis. I keep myself in check. And if I do fuck up, I try to make it right.” The heat drained from his voice. “I don’t want to make mistakes. Not with you. This is too important.”
4. “Do you know what it’s like to work for something your whole life and then have someone walk in and become the most important thing to you in an instant? Everything changed at the drop of a hat. It’s fucking disorienting, Alexis. You turned me upside down.”

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

• The character Alexis Stone is based on my younger sister Mallory, and Mallory gets very excited every time readers say they love Alexis:) So far my characters based on her are greatly outperforming my characters based on me, as she likes to point out.
• The working title for the book was NATURAL DISASTERS, since several crucial plot points are tied to storms/lightning/tornadoes, and because that’s how Alexis would describe her love life.
• I modeled the loud-mouthed, brash love interest Logan Arthur after the Ted Lasso character Roy Kent. If Roy Kent was an up-and-coming politician, he’d be Logan.

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

Logan steps in and helps Alexis fend off a creep at the bar, and when he goes back to his seat, Alexis musters up her courage to ask him if she can thank him by buying him a drink. One drink turns into two, and before she knows it, Alexis has spent the whole night talking up a storm with Logan. He’s entrancing to her—confident, passionate, unafraid to say what he thinks and take up space. And she has no idea at the time, but that night Logan is just as mesmerized by her intelligence, humor, and kind-heartedness. Later, he tells her that some people just radiate goodness—it shines out of their eyes—she’s one of those people. That’s why he could never stay away.

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

Many scenes had me laughing while writing (in particular, a scene when Logan and Alexis go out to dinner at a pretentious restaurant, and Logan keeps getting spooked by the overly solicitous waiter, had me rolling). Laughing out loud is actually my litmus test for whether a line should stay in the book. But there’s a scene near the end that had me blushing while drafting and especially while editing, and I’ll share a snippet of that here:

Unlike the first night, this time we didn’t stumble down the hall to our room. We might only have this one night together, but it wasn’t casual. When we stepped inside the suite and the lights glowed, illuminating Logan’s serious face, my heart began to race.
“What?” He stepped closer. The perfect picture, standing where he’d stood months before.
I shook my head. “You’re too beautiful. Too much.”
He stared at me for a long, charged moment. And then slowly, he sank to his knees.
“Logan—”
“Ever since the night we met, I’ve been trying to figure out what your eyes reminded me of. I finally decided they’re honey-brown with green flecks. A constellation trapped in amber. The gold is brightest when you’re happy.” He looked up at me like a knight pledging allegiance. “They’re so beautiful I had to train myself not to look at you too long when I spoke. Otherwise, I would’ve been lost every time I tried to give a speech.” Gently, he pulled up the layers of my dress. “The way you smell drives me wild. Flowers, but so light it disappears when you try to chase it. Every time it hit me in the conference room it took all my willpower not to climb across the table and kiss you. My couch smelled like you for a full day after you came over and I curled in those blankets when I got home from work and tried to tell myself I was just in the mood to watch movies all night.”
I stood stock-still, drowning in his litany. Logan hooked his fingers under the lace of my panties and tugged them down. My legs felt boneless as I leaned against the wall, shoulder blades first. When he looked up, his eyes were smoldering, his voice hypnotic. “I’ve memorized the way you look when you’re happy, the way you sound when you laugh, how you press your eyes closed when I touch you.” His voice thickened. “Like now.”
***

Readers should read this book….

If they want a fresh take on fake dating with a romance-loving heroine and Roy Kent-inspired hero; if they like to laugh (this book takes the comedy part of romantic comedy seriously!); if they like slow burns, pining, and angst; if they like fast pacing and lots of shenanigans; if they like light, escapist political fare in the background, mostly centered around teachers’ rights; if they like open-door spicy scenes and heroes who lose their minds for the heroine.

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

After THE BOYFRIEND CANDIDATE releases on May 9th, I have a thriller titled MIDNIGHT IS THE DARKEST HOUR coming out on October 3rd. That book opens with a skull pulled out of the swamp in the small Louisiana town of Bottom Springs, which hasn’t witnessed a murder in decades (or so they think). No one knows who the skull belongs to or how it got there…except for Ruth Cornier, the preacher’s daughter. And she’ll have to enlist the help of the one man she can never have, the man who’s forbidden to her, in order to save herself.
If you can’t tell, romance plays a huge role in MIDNIGHT!
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: A print copy of The Boyfriend Candidate by Ashley WinsteadUS winners.

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Excerpt from The Boyfriend Candidate:

I’ll say one nice thing about my ex Chris Tuttle: the man was the entire reason I was here, standing at the entrance to the sultry Fleur de Lis hotel bar, wearing a red dress so plunging I kept it in the back of my closet for fear of scandalizing visitors, on the verge of reinventing myself. The memory of Chris and the still-fresh psychic wounds he’d left me were like a marching drum line urging me forward as I’d left my apartment, Ubered downtown to the Fleur de Lis, and cut a determined path across the lobby to the bar, a place with a reputation as Austin’s Grand Central Station of hookups. Unfortunately, now that I was standing at the entrance, the sight of all the laughing, drinking, dazzling people—dressed to the nines like me, but looking much more at ease about it—had me momentarily cowed.

I thought back to what Chris said the day I discovered he was cheating on me (for the second time): “I do have needs you can’t satisfy. You should really learn to be more adventurous in bed, Lex. You’re like a timid little mouse. It can get really boring.” Remembering those words, I straightened my shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped inside. I was not a boring mouse—or at least I wouldn’t be one anymore. Starting tonight, I was going to be a new version of Alexis Stone: as bold and adventurous as my flaming-red dress.
I tried to soak in the beauty of the bar while beelining through the crowded tables, anxious to leave the peculiar spotlight of being the only person standing among a bunch of cozy, seated people. But then I realized new Alexis wouldn’t care if everyone’s eyes flitted to her as she walked across a room—in fact, new Alexis would welcome it, because she’d spent nearly an hour straightening and then recurling her hair into movie star ringlets, and maybe that effort should be appreciated. I forced myself to slow and look up at the bar’s gorgeous glass ceiling, shaded a twinkly blue thanks to the night sky. Real palm trees lined the circular perimeter, fronds reaching toward the stars. They made the bar look like a very urbane urban jungle, which actually wasn’t too far off the mark.
My older sister, Lee, and her friends liked to roll their eyes at the entire downtown bar scene, calling places like the Fleur de Lis “meat markets where you go to spend thirty-five bucks on a martini while beating back horny yuppies” (Lee’s words). They preferred the hipster bars on the east side of Austin, where the clientele was cooler yet dirtier (my words). I thought the Fleur de Lis was romantic, so it made sense to come here tonight for my critical but one hundred percent private mission: I, Alexis Rosalie Stone, was going to have my first one-night stand. I was going to sleep with a man with no strings attached, no stakes or expectations: just one night to do whatever felt right. Alexis the unadventurous bore? I’d killed her and buried the body.
The gleaming brass bar was crowded, but I managed to slip a shoulder between two men and catch the bartender’s attention. “Vodka martini,” I said, feeling a sudden rebellious compulsion to do anything that would raise my sister’s eyebrows. By the time my drink came, I’d completed a full three-sixty swivel in my barstool to survey the sea of men for potential candidates. How exactly did one negotiate a one-night stand? Did you lead with it in conversation so all your cards were on the table (“Hi, I’m Alexis; you might be interested to know I’m trolling for a stranger to ravish me”), or did you hold back, let your intention slip out at just the right moment (“I see you’re ordering an Uber home; could I interest you in going splitsies back to my place for a wild night of sex”)?
I braced a hand on the bar, taking a fortifying sip of my martini. Even if I made a complete fool of myself tonight—even if I was roundly rejected by every man I spoke to—coming here alone at least meant Lee and her crew couldn’t witness my flop, then use it to skewer me for all eternity like the jackals they were.
A whistle cut through the bar’s ambient noise, followed by a loud, “Now that’s a dress.” Out of nowhere, a man appeared and sidled up beside me. One look at him and my mind blurted forehead! Probably because his was shiny as a disco ball, framed by waggling eyebrows, and tilted all the way to the side. The next second, I realized his head was turned that way so he could get a clear view down my dress.
“Thanks.” I placed a protective hand over my chest and swiveled in the opposite direction. Hoping my body language would signal my disinterest, I took another sip of my martini and studied the empty corner of the room like it was fascinating.
No such luck. “I’m Carter Randall,” the man said, jutting out his hand. “What’s your name?”
My deep desire for him to go away warred with my silly lifelong compulsion to be nice. “Um…” I twisted back to shake his oddly moist hand and searched for inspiration. My gaze snagged, as his clearly had, on my dress. “Ruby…” The next word came unbidden. “Dangerfield. Ruby Dangerfield.” Curse my polite hardwiring that had me sitting here inventing a new name instead of dismissing him with something cool and clipped like, “Not interested.”
Carter gave my hand a little squeeze. He was twice my age, probably well into his fifties. Well-dressed, with a massive gold watch on his wrist, and—now that I squinted—a strangely sweaty face, like he’d just done a lap. Was he on party drugs? He used his sleeve to mop his forehead and I pulled my hand away, resisting the urge to wipe it on my dress. Carter’s eyes drifted down the length of my body yet again. “Well, Ms. Ruby. Can I buy you a drink? A stiff one?” He grinned.
“Oh,” I said. “That’s very nice. But—um—no thank you.” Inside, I burned with the fire of a thousand suns. Saying no to anyone, even a stranger, stretched the limits of my bravery.
“Aw, come on.” Carter leaned in closer and I scooted back so fast I nearly tipped over. “Look at you, sitting there in that dress. Clearly fishing for attention. Well, you caught me. Let’s get you drunk and see what happens.”
Apparently, I was going to get a lesson in how not to proposition someone tonight. But my cheeks were burning, because in a small way Carter was right—I had come here to put myself on display and find someone, just very much not him. Be the new Alexis, I urged myself. Stop prioritizing this stranger’s feelings and tell him to leave you alone. But I couldn’t—at the slightest provocation, old, sad, doormat Alexis had quickly jumped back in charge.
“I’m not trying to be rude,” I said carefully, feeling my heartbeat spike. “I would just like to be by myself tonight.” Well, shoot. Now that I’d committed to that, would I have to leave the bar so Carter didn’t catch me talking to anyone else later? My palms started sweating.
“One drink—” he started.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” came a voice, tinged with an accent I couldn’t place—British mixed with Texas panhandle? I nearly knocked over my martini. “She said no, mate. Get it through your thick skull and leave the poor woman alone.”
Carter spun to get a look at the man who’d interrupted us, and without his body blocking the view, I got a clear line, too. My stomach flipped over and released a conservatory’s worth of butterflies. Even wearing a look of contempt, the man on the other side of Carter was stop-in-your-tracks, tongue-tyingly handsome. He was around my age, maybe a little older—he certainly radiated an older person’s authority—with a head of dark curls cut close and tight, brown eyes that were currently blazing, and thick eyebrows arched, waiting to see how Carter would respond. He had on a dark suit like most of the other men in the room, but he’d taken off his jacket and hung it on the back of his seat. He was sitting hunched over his drink in a white dress shirt with the sleeves messily rolled back, wearing a dark slim watch that was the antithesis of Carter’s flashy gold one. The wrinkles in his suit, creases under his eyes, and day-old stubble gave the impression of a weary business executive after a long, hard day at work. His eyes flitted to mine for the briefest moment before returning to Carter, but the charge that ran down my spine was enough to root me to my chair.
Carter shifted his weight. Apparently, he was going to play the tough guy. “Why don’t you mind your business, pal?”
The beautiful, tired man rolled his eyes. “Oh, good. You’re one of those.” He got to his feet so fast his barstool made a screeching sound as it scraped across the floor. “Then let’s go ahead and get this over with, because I’ve had a shit day and I would like to kick your ass and get back home at a reasonable hour. So come on. You’re the one campaigning for Most Punchable Man in the Bar. Let’s have your prize.” The dark-haired man spoke calmly and quickly in his hard-to-place accent, like he invited people to get their asses kicked at least once a day. He made a little “come on” gesture that conveyed utter boredom.
People around us had stopped talking to watch. The extra attention only made me feel like I was going to melt into the floor at twice the speed. But if I had no idea how to respond to this turn of events—what to say or even where to put my hands—Carter was even more clueless. I could see his eyes dancing, doing quick calculations. On the one hand, Carter was thicker around the middle than the dark-haired man. On the other, the dark-haired man had revealed himself to be tall and well-built when he stood up.
“Nah, man.” Carter put his hands up. “We’ve got no problems. Just making new friends like you’re supposed to at a bar, for Christ’s sake.”
“Great,” said the dark-haired man. “Then kindly fuck off as suggested.”
Carter didn’t wait to be told a third time. As he hightailed away from the bar, a woman nearby muttered, “What a douche.” And with that judgment rendered, the room dialed back to a normal volume.
“Thank you,” I said to the dark-haired man. He waved me off with a grunt and settled back in his barstool, leaning comfortably over his drink, apparently hoping to resume his night like nothing had happened.
I stared at him. The adrenaline was draining out of my system, which left me feeling hollow. I should have been the one to tell Carter to fuck off. I should have had the guts, but instead I’d tiptoed around and this man had to step in and do it for me. How humiliating. It hit me like a ton of bricks: from the moment Carter arrived, I’d been unequivocally mousy. Exactly like Chris said.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

A laugh-out-loud rom-com about learning to embrace living outside your comfort zone.

As a shy school librarian, Alexis Stone is comfortable keeping out of the spotlight. But when she’s dumped for being too meek—in bed!—she decides she needs to change. And what better way to kick-start her new more adventurous life than with her first one-night stand?

Enter Logan, the gorgeous, foul-mouthed stranger she meets at a hotel bar. Audacious and filterless, Logan is Alexis’s opposite—and boy, do opposites attract! Just as she’s about to fulfill her hookup wish, the hotel catches fire in a freak lightning storm. In their rush to escape, Logan is discovered carrying her into the street, where people are waiting with cameras. Cameras Logan promptly—and shockingly—flees.

Alexis is bewildered until suddenly pictures of her and Logan escaping the fire are all over the internet. Turns out Logan is none other than Logan Arthur, the hotshot candidate challenging the Texas governor’s seat. The salacious scandal is poised to sink his career—and jeopardize Alexis’s job—until a solution is proposed: he and Alexis could pretend to be in a relationship until election day…in two months. What could possibly go wrong?
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Meet the Author:

Ashley Winstead is an academic turned novelist with a Ph.D. in contemporary American literature. She lives in Houston with her husband, two cats, and beloved wine fridge. You can find her at www.ashleywinstead.com.
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