Spotlight & Giveaway: The Ex-Perimento by Maria J. Morillo

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Maria J. Morillo to HJ!

Hi Maria and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, The Ex-Perimento!

Hi! Thank you all so much for having me.
 

Please summarize the book for the readers here:

The Ex-Perimento follows Marianto Camacho, a Type-A woman who has her entire life planned out almost to the last second. The perfect job, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect future. That is until her life is turned upside down by her boyfriend asking for a break, which also leads to her losing her job. The first thing Marianto wants is for her life to follow the script again, so she starts doing a series of experiments in order to get her ex back (a la How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days, but in reverse). The problem is, experiments cost money and she’s unemployed. Enter Simón Arreaza, AKA the lead singer of her favorite indie band. Marianto lands a temporary job as his assistant, and merely hours after meeting, Simón finds her lists of experiments and edits them because, as a man, he knows Marianto’s list will never work. And thus begins an unlikely partnership between them, where they’ll be trying to get Marianto her perfectly-planned-out life back. Except life always has a way or surprising us, and she might find the best things in life come when you least expect it.
 

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

I have a few favorite lines, but I’ll share the most personal:
“You’re allowed to be happy, even when you’re sad.”
To me, it speaks to that part of us that sometimes feels we’re not allowed small moments of joy when we’re going through something hard. The part of us that feels we need to stay sad longer, almost out of respect, so we feel guilty when we find ourselves laughing again.

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

• When I started writing The Ex-Perimento, I called it “dumb book for myself” because I truly wanted to write something ridiculous that would just make me happy. My first book had died on sub and I was feeling the pressure. I wanted to stop taking myself so seriously. But that quickly changed to me wanting to write a book that felt real while also being funny.
• Caballo de Troya is loosely inspired by a Colombian band called “Morat” and that was ALL I listened to while drafting the book. One of the lead singers of the band later went on to date a Venezuelan woman. They’re still together. I like to take credit for that (I’ve never met them).
• Viviana, Marianto’s mother, is inspired by every Venezuelan TV figure we’ve ever had. Maite Delgado, Viviana Gibelli, Camila Canabal… These women are so accomplished in their field, with incredible careers in national TV, and they’re deeply loved by everyone. I’m sure they’re all great moms, though.
• I finished writing the first draft of The Ex-Perimento when I had COVID, because I was alone in my room with nothing else to do.

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

I think for Simón, who is very patient, sensitive and true to himself, what drew him to Marianto was the fact that she’s perpetually stressed. She’s organized externally but a bit of a mess internally, and I think he wanted to know why and once he gets to know her, he finds someone who has had to take care of herself for so long and his instincts to take care of her kick in.

For Marianto, aside from the fact that he’s THE Simón Arreaza, is the fact that despite being THE Simón Arreaza, he doesn’t seem to want anything from her but for her to be okay, to be happy. It’s new, and at first she doesn’t know what to do with it, but eventually she realizes that’s what she’s always wanted.

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

Snippet: “I laugh. “What is it about Eddy Herrera and Liz? This song came out like twenty-five years ago.”
Simón grins. “It’s a classic. Who doesn’t love sleeping together and erasing what is dampening their love?”
I laugh harder. And then I have a horrible thought. “Oh my God, is that what I’m doing?”
Simón frowns. “What?”
“With the list!” I say. “Am I begging Alejandro to…dormir juntitos…again?”
Simón watches me for what feels like forever before he bursts out laughing. His face transforms. His eyes are crinkled, his cheekbones high, his whole face exuding joy.
“Don’t make fun of me,” I say, but I’m smiling. I can’t help it. He seems delighted. “It’s a real question. I’ve always thought that song was a little desperate. And Alejandro hates merengue.”
“I’m not making fun of you!” He shakes his head. “I’m just…fascinated. By the way your mind works.”
I give a little tap to my temple. “This mind?”
He nods. “That mind.”
“This mind that runs on cortisol and caffeine?”
Simón shrugs one shoulder, leaning back on his chair. “I mean, don’t all our brains run on cortisol and caffeine?””

This scene never fails to make me giggle. I love how Marianto perceives her overthinking as a flaw no one could possibly find interesting, something she’s a little insecure about, especially after her ex-boyfriend called her a control freak. But to Simón, it’s not a flaw. It’s as much a part of her as anything else and he can immediately find a good side to it.

Readers should read this book….

• if they like learning about new cultures through books or books set outside the US.
• if they like sloooow burn AND/OR celebrity romance.
• if they like 2000s romcoms like How To Lose a Guy in Ten Days or The Devil Wears Prada.
• If they want to laugh out loud, swoon, and maybe even cry a little.

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

I’m currently working on my second novel, which is a roadtrip/traveling romance also set in Venezuela, and I’m super excited for people to know more about it and to see what a beautiful country Venezuela is, through the lens two people falling in love.
 
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: 1 copy of THE EX-PERIMENTO by Maria J. Morillo to a reader.

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: What is the craziest thing you’ve ever done to get someone’s attention?

Excerpt from The Ex-Perimento:

I scramble to my feet. “That was fun.”
Simón stands up too. “It was. Should we go?”
“Simón, I can’t leave.” I gesture at the mess we’ve left in our wake. Scripts piled up, ready for delivery, plus more to print; discarded foam containers and plastic cutlery from our dinner; about a thousand paper balls tracing a path from me to him. If Mileidy comes to the office tomorrow and finds this mess, she’ll have my head. “But you can. You should leave. I’ll stay here. Forever and ever and—”
Simón crosses the space between us in two strides. “I’m not going to leave you here alone.”
He grabs a chair from the desk we’ve been using all night, turns it around before sitting with arms crossed over the backrest. Oh, for the love of God.
“That’s not fair,” I say. Out loud.
Simón frowns. “What’s not fair?”
You, sitting in front of me like that, looking at me like that, offering to stay with me like that.
I clear my throat. “You shouldn’t have to endure this with me.”
He huffs, drumming his right hand’s fingers on the back of his left. “What’s not fair is you having to go through dozens of scripts for no reason.”
“The reason is that Mileidy told me to.” I shake the list of edits she had a PA give me for emphasis.
I squat and start picking up the balls. No way in hell am I exploring this place at the witching hour in search of a broom. Simón somehow manages to roll his eyes out loud as he pushes from the chair and joins me on the floor, so close our noses would touch if I lost my footing.
“What if I tell you we need to go?” he asks, and I feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek. I meet his eyes. They’re the color of cedarwood, framed by long lashes that could catch snowflakes if given the chance. Why am I thinking about snowflakes on eyelashes? “What if I need you to drive me back to the hotel?” he continues. “Who would you obey then?”
I can’t hold his piercing gaze. Not when his hair is sticking up in all directions after he ran his hand through it one too many times, not when his hoodie is rolled up to his elbows and he’s wearing ripped jeans and exhaustion like he was born for it.
“Mileidy.”
Simón huffs, rolling his eyes. “Sure.”
The word has a low timbre, a rasp. And a hint of disbelief. With a second, final glance my way, he shakes his head, smiling, as he piles up neon paper balls in his hands.
I force myself to remember Alejandro.
Alejandro also smiles. Alejandro also says sure—mostly in a condescending way, but still. Alejandro is also male. Focus.
“So, um.” I stand up, adjusting my clothes, and take two steps away from him for good measure. “What’s next in the plan? I can hardly show Alejandro I’m having a blast when the only thing I do is watch kids sing for money and get you coffee.”
Simón’s eyes shoot up. “We can always show him he’s not the only one in line for your heart. That’s item number four on my list, if memory serves. Sit back down.”
“What?”
Simón drops to the floor and immediately crosses his legs. “Floor, Maria Antonieta,” he says, patting the space next to him.
For what feels like forever, I stand beside him, looking around. I don’t know who I’m expecting to find; we’re the only ones here. Judging by the bright red numbers on the clock over the door reading 12:32 a.m., we’ll continue to be the only ones here for a while. But this tiny action, sitting by Simón on the cold floor of this deserted office, is the kind of thing I would never do under normal circumstances. The Marianto I am at my core doesn’t sit on the floor beside hot singers. The Marianto I know myself to be wouldn’t have allowed Simón to stay behind in the first place. He should be resting. I should be working. But the me that’s here tonight, looking down at him as he looks up with a daring glint in his tired eyes, wants to let go for once. To not do what’s expected even when no one is watching.
I sit on the floor. Cross my legs. Silence the voice of my first-grade gym instructor saying I shouldn’t cross my legs. Simón cocks his head to one side, grinning, as he appraises me. One second passes . . . two . . . three . . .
Simón sighs, shaking his head once.
“So . . .” I venture. “How do we do this ?”
“Right,” Simón says. “First, we need something that’s undeniably yours. Something someone else probably doesn’t have.”
That’s easy. “This bracelet?”
I shake my wrist the way I often do when I’m too anxious. Charms ding-ding together, and my chest loosens a little. I’ve had it since I was fifteen. My mother gave it to me. She’s been adding a new charm to it every year since then. The first one was a lipstick. Now it has several books, a globe, a telescope, and a few pearls. It’s such a part of me now that I never think about it, the same way I don’t think about breathing, or the same way I never think about dropping several pens in my purse before going out.
Simón studies my bracelet like the storyteller he is. I don’t know how I know, but he’s trying to figure out the best way to ask for the tale behind it. Unfortunately for him, that book has closed.
“That and my fixation for hibiscus tea every Tuesday,” I add.
Simón checks his watch. “It’s Tuesday.”
“Oh, it’s already on the way.”
He chuckles. “Why Tuesdays?”
I fumble with the lipstick charm on my bracelet. “At Ellas, Tuesdays were Fitness Day. I had to post health content, diet food. Couldn’t post about coffee and cookies. Instead, I posted about salads and tea.” Simón gives me a thumbs down. I laugh. “I know. Hibiscus tea is the only tea I liked, so it became like my signature drink. After a while, I didn’t even have to pay for it anymore. We drove so many people to the café under our office, they owed us money.” I sigh, wishing I could have a cold brew of hibiscus tea right now. “There were a lot of perks to that job.”
“Is that why you want it back?” Simón asks, nudging my knee with his. “The perks?”
Some days, yes. But not always. “Mostly I miss knowing I was good at something, and people knew I was good at it. I don’t want to start over somewhere new.”
Simón nods, hm-ing. “Is that why you want Alejandro back too? Because you’re afraid of starting over with someone new?”
My head snaps toward him. I’m gaping, I know I am. I can’t help it. The tightness in my chest comes back full force, two fists squeezing my lungs, while a secret third hand punches me in the gut. Simón doesn’t look away. The opposite, actually. He scans every inch of my face, giving each feature individual attention. He studies each eyelash and eye freckle. The air is charged. He swallows. I follow the movement of his throat bobbing. This is Simón in HD and in private. No photo or video does him justice.
I look away first. “Who said I was afraid?”
He doesn’t move. His eyes burning the side of my face almost feel like a challenge. “Aren’t you?”
My throat goes tight. Maybe it’s sitting on the floor next to the man who wrote lines like tell me how you like your coffee in the morning, your bedtime routine each night, what does the weekend look like, if it’s you and I; maybe it’s the fact that his relentless questions feel like he’s genuinely interested in me, which I haven’t felt in . . . forever, now that I think about it. Whatever it is, I want to tell the truth. And I hate that. I hate that it’s him who gets to pull it out of me, that things with him always get out of control. Not in a crazy, I’m-going-to-find-my-bra-hanging-from-a-ceiling-fan-tomorrow-morning kind of way. More like an I-can’t-get-you-to-follow-the-script kind of way. In a you’re-always-challenging-me kind of way, and the competitive, straight-A, asshole in me does not want to back out. So, I don’t.
“What about you?”
Simón chuckles. “What about me?”
“What are you afraid of?”
Simón gives me an infuriatingly knowing smile. “Do you really want to know, or is this your way of putting me back in my place?”
I want to laugh. Of course he knows my question for what it is. Of course he sees right through it, through me. It’s like he was born with a Maria Antonieta manual that he wasn’t able to open until now. It’s unnerving.
I shrug instead. “Answer it anyway.”
Simón sighs. “Bueno. I guess I’m afraid of failure.” He pauses, fidgeting with the hem of his jeans. “As cliché as that might sound.”
“Failure of what?”
He huffs. “Anything? Everything.” His voice is thick, speaking faster as the words rush out of his lips. “I’m scared of failing so spectacularly I’ll resent music for the rest of my life. I’ve sacrificed so much for it—time, a billion different job opportunities. Love.” He swallows. “I’m afraid I’ll wake up one day and realize it was all for nothing. That I’ve been feeding myself, my family, and my friends lies upon lies. That I could have less gray hairs at twenty-eight or sleep more than five hours a night . . . that I could have been happier sooner, doing something else. If that makes sense.”
I don’t realize it, but I’ve been inching closer to him as he speaks. When he’s finished, my hand is resting on his knee. I don’t move it. He turns to me, eyes a little lost, breathing unevenly.
“It does,” I say.
Simón nods, lowering his head as he blinks. When he looks at me again, his expression is determined. His smile is back, but it’s not as wide or genuine as before I challenged him to bare his soul to me on the office floor. And before I can decide against it, I reach out and grab his hand. Surprise flashes across his features. It takes a second before his fingers close around mine, warming every inch of skin he’s touching.
I focus on that and not on the fact that I’m holding Simón’s hand.
“You’ll be okay,” I whisper. “I’m going to make sure of it.”
“So will you.” Simón squeezes my hand softly. “And so will I.”
I don’t know how long we stay like that. Could be seconds. Could be hours. He lets go first, placing my hand over my own knee, as the brief moment of true friendship melts into oblivion. His phone materializes in his hand, he angles it toward the desk we’d been occupying hours ago, foam containers from our dinner still scattered all over its surface. What’s the creative process behind this particular shot? I have no idea, but twenty seconds later his phone is back in his pocket, and I have yet to approve the picture.
Simón turns to me with a playful smirk. “He’ll call.”
I almost blurt out a Who? But then I remember. The experiments. Making Alejandro think he’s not the only one in line.
Simón is my coach. I should tell him Alejandro already called. I should tell him about dinner on Friday. I should ask for his advice.
I don’t.
“There’s only one problem with your plan,” I say. “He is the only one in line.”
If he’s even that. Simón pushes to his feet, then offers me a hand to help me back up. I take it.
“That’s for him to decide,” he says, pulling me up. I almost crash against his chest. He looks at me like he wouldn’t have minded one bit. “But just to be sure: Tomorrow, have a blast without him.”
I take a step back, then another for good measure, dusting my pants off.
“And do what exactly?”
Simòn shrugs. “You still owe me a hypothetical tour of Caracas.”
My heart races a little faster at the implication. I feel my cheeks grow warmer with each second. The corners of Simón’s lips twitch. If he doesn’t find it anxiety-inducing to spend more time together, just the two of us, there’s no reason I should.
“Of course.” I try not to choke on the words. “Sounds good.”
For all our sakes, I hope this one works

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

Maria “Marianto” Camacho is a planner. At twenty-seven, she has her life perfectly mapped out. Her long-term boyfriend, Alejandro, is perfect on paper, and she’s expecting a proposal any day now. She has a stable job as a lifestyle columnist at Ellas, one of Latin America’s biggest digital magazines. Her future is set; she’s sure of it.

Until everything falls apart overnight: Marianto loses her boyfriend and her job. But she’s determined to get them both back with an idea that is either delusional or ingenious—a juicy new article for Ellas that documents a series of romantic experiments to get her ex back. Thus begins The Ex-Perimento. With her bank account dwindling, however, Marianto lands a temporary gig on Venezuela’s hottest new singing competition show. Her job? Personal assistant to Simón Arreaza, the lead singer of her favorite indie band.

It’s only her second day on the job when Simón discovers Marianto’s list of romantic experiments, striking her ideas and replacing them with his own better ones. Out of desperation, she offers a proposition: Help her win back Alejandro, and she’ll give Simón’s band a profile in the magazine once she returns to Ellas. But between the close quarters on set and the blurred lines of a budding friendship, Marianto and Simón find themselves irresistibly drawn to each other, caught in a whirlwind of unexpected romance.
Book Links: Book Links: Amazon | B&N | iTunes | kobo | Google |
 
 

Meet the Author:

Maria J. Morillo is a born and raised Venezuelan ESL teacher, translator, and author of love stories featuring Venezuelan women getting absolutely everything they’ve always wanted. When she’s not writing, you can find her leading the choir at her local church. She currently lives in Maturin, Venezuela, with her family.
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | GoodReads |