Spotlight & Giveaway: The Fix Up by Marina Adair

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Marina Adair to HJ!

Hi Marina and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, The Fix Up!

Thank you so much for having me. I am super excited to be here and meet all of you readers!
 

Please summarize the book for the readers here:

The Fix Up is my twist on Chip and Joanna Gaines meets Love Island, where a former NHL player gets stuck on the set of a remodel show with America’s DIY queen.

The twist? They recently had the worst date in the history of worst dates.
 

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

“If I’d known that you slept in dental floss and lace, I would have played this game of Guess what’s below the line a hell of a lot sooner.”

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

When I was writing The Fix Up I adopted a little malti-poo named Biggie Smalls, who grew up around cats–so he is half dog-half cat, with a Napoleon complex. So I wrote him in the book, but how he saw himself–as a giant Great Dane-Great Pyrenees mix who is as big as a horse with the attitude of an alley cat. Thus was the inspiration for Tater Tot…AKA Taters.

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

Decker is a famous former NHL superstar who is used to people using him for his fame and money. Yet here he is sitting at the bar with a woman who is the exact opposite of the socialites he usually dates and she doesn’t have a clue as to who he is–and she likes him anyway.

Poppy

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

“You! What are you doing on my set?”
“Your set, huh? What are you the interior decorator?” he asked even though he knew she was a hell of a lot more than that. But he wanted to get a rise out of her.
Emerald green slits met his gaze. “Because I’m a woman all I can do is create color palettes? Maybe if I had my own sex tape you’d take me more seriously. I’ve been flipping houses while you’ve flipping your stick all around town.”
That barb was like a bowling ball to the gut. He hated that her first impression of him was that he was that kind of guy. Why should it matter what he did or didn’t do before they met? So what if he had a past—even if he was being blamed for a past that wasn’t his? Everyone had a past. It just really sucked that she was judging him for things that were already done rather than seeing him for the guy standing in front of her.
Well, he’d just have to change that.
“Seriously though, showing up at my work,” he said. “That’s a bold statement. I’m flattered.”
Taters lopped out of the pool and she followed, having now idea how her drenched clothes clung to her body.
“Dream on.”
“So we’re sharing dreams now. Does it include the color of your bra?” He leaned in and smiled. “It’s red by the way.”
“How did you—?”
She followed his gaze to her top, which was now tissue thin. Her hands covered her beasts, like that Jannett Jackson picture from back in the nineties. “Can we pretend we’re grownups for one minute?”
“What’s the fun in that?”
“I’m supposed to meet my boss in ten minutes,” she said and an unsettling feeling started in his gut. Seriously, what were the odds of a blind date and now this? “And I look like I just participated in a wet T-shirt contest.”
“Angel, you look like you won.”
She stumbled over her next words letting him know he’d flustered her. He liked her flustered. “This is not the look I was going for. So if you’ll kindly fuck off.”
“Can’t. I’m meeting my boss in ten minutes.”
That brought her up short. “You mean Jack?”
“Yup.”
“That can’t be. It’s just too much of a coincidence.”
“My thoughts exactly. So you want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Me? How would I know?” Her eyes got round with denial. “You’re not going to pin this on me. Facelifts to Flips has been my show since I was nineteen. I don’t need some D list athlete to help me grow my audience.”
“First off, I’m a three-time Stanly Cup winner and Hall of Famer. Far from D list. As for my career, it’s been covered on every network and cable channel for nearly a decade.”
“You’re forgetting TMZ.”
“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I’m watching YouTube.”

Readers should read this book….

This book is about two people who can’t stand each other but can’t keep their hands off each other. It’s a forced proximity, hate to love, one bed, found family fun read. It has its tender moments that will make you cry, and funny moments, like when the MMC’s 18 yo nephew sneaks onto the set and becomes everyone’s therapist that will make you pee your pants.

The family antic, hilarious animal encounters, and sexy but swoon worthy moments will make you want to revisit Poppy and Decker’s love story, again and again.

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

I’m working on a cowboy series called The Callahans. it follows three rough-and-tumble brothers who inherit a cattle ranch after their parents die in a tragic car crash.

Book one, The One who Sees Her, is a hilarious and emotional twist on The Holiday meets City Slickers, where a dating profile consultant and a retired rodeo star/turned rancher find themselves sharing the same honeymoon house after they are both left at the altar.
 
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: 10 signed copies of LOVE TO HATE YOU, my modern twist on You’ve Got Mail. (US only)

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: What is your favorite trope?

Excerpt from The Fi x Up:

He was waiting for a reply when someone slid onto the barstool next to him. He didn’t have to look up to know it was a someone of the female persuasion. A floral and feminine scent wrapped around him like a warm, familiar blanket.
He glanced over and found a pair of voluptuous, mile-long legs encased in denim and attached to one hell of a rack that had his internal warning signal screaming, “Finish your beer and go home. Alone.” Only he made the mistake of meeting her eyes and well, fuck him, he couldn’t seem to look away.
They were the most unique shade of mossy green he’d ever seen and so full of emotion that, even though he told himself to get up and walk out of there, his ass cemented itself to the bar stool.
“I am so sorry I’m late,” she said, her voice low and throaty. “I got stuck at work. Actually, that’s not entirely true. I got sucked into work and time slipped away from me. Does that ever happen to you?”
“Sometimes,” he said, amused at the speed with which the words came spilling out of her mouth.
She looked relieved. “Then you understand.” She folded her hands nervously in her lap. “I have to be honest. I wasn’t even going to come, but I didn’t want to leave you high and dry sitting at a bar alone. I’ve been there and it sucks.”
Decker had a hard time believing that anyone would stand this woman up. She wasn’t the normal Hollywood type he went for. In fact, besides a touch of gloss on her lips, she didn’t have on a spot of makeup. Her hair was in a ponytail, and her top was more casual than couture. Not exactly date attire, but she clearly thought he was someone else.
Before he could ask who she was there to meet, and clarify that it wasn’t him, she was talking again.
“It’s not that I didn’t want to meet you. I just don’t date that often. Especially when my aunt sets me up.”
“Does that happen a lot?” he found himself asking.
“It’s the worst. Being the single niece of a matchmaker means that she’s determined to find me my soul mate. It never crosses her mind that I’m not looking for a soul mate.” She grimaced, and as she moved, her thigh brushed his. It was like she’d poked him with a live wire. Two minutes with this woman and he felt more sparks flickering in his chest than a forest fire. “Not that there’s anything wrong with looking for a soul mate. Most people are looking, right?”
He leaned an elbow against the bar top. “But you’re not?”
She snorted. “Maybe once upon a time. Nowadays, I’m more focused on things that are in my control.”
“Yet you said yes to a date?”
She let out a deep breath and looked around the bar, then leaned in as if imparting nuclear launch codes. “Can you keep a secret?”
Secrets brought intimacy, something he couldn’t afford tonight, but when he went to say he had to go, out came, “I’m like a vault.” Because when it came to women, he had a hard time turning off the flirt. When it came to this woman, flirting felt like foreplay.
She gave a reassuring nod, but it appeared more like she was reassuring herself. “Well, my aunt is a big deal in this town when it comes to matchmaking. They call her the Cupid to the Stars.”
Shit.
Decker glanced around for hidden cameras because he knew exactly who the famous Aunt Opal was. He’d seen her show and was not interested in being fixed up.
“You mean Opal Hart, Cupid to the Stars?”
“The one and only.” She rested her hand on his and there went that spark again. “Don’t worry. She promised not to film this. It’s part of our deal. So you’re safe. Plus, who would want to see two nobodies on a date?”
So she really didn’t know who he was.
“Anyway, you can imagine how many dates she’s tried to set me up on. But I agreed she could set me up this one time in exchange for letting me alter her kitchen back to the original rendering, so I agreed.” Her eyes went a little misty. “In fact, I think it’s her last pairing ever, because her mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be. Not that she’d admit it to me.”
She released a little sniffle and Decker felt his palms sweat. He grew up in a house full of boys with a mom who knew how to change a carburetor with one hand tied behind her back. Tears weren’t something he’d had much experience with.
Another sniffle.
Decker felt a hive break out on his right arm.
She waved an embarrassed hand. “I’m sorry. Look at me going on. Let’s talk about something else.”
Fine by him. “So, what is it you do?”
She looked at him as if he were the slow one here—as if he should know this. “I flip houses. What do you do?”
How ironic. He was surrounded by hockey fans and he was sitting next to the only person who hadn’t a clue who he was. Now he was more than intrigued. So instead of politely excusing himself, he said, “I’m in construction too. New builds, not flips.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Why, do I not look like I can swing a hammer?”
Her gaze dropped to his arms and he found himself flexing. “I don’t know. You just don’t seem the type to get his hands dirty.”
He laughed. “Do you like a guy who can get dirty?”
She rolled her eyes. “Does that line usually work for you?”
Yes, it did. Decker wasn’t just an MVP; he had a PhD in banter. His flirt game was so strong all it took was a strategically placed comment and women were asking if they were headed to his place or hers.
“You tell me.”
This time when she snorted, it was followed by a carefree laugh. “Most definitely not. I’m more of an emotional connection kind of person. Flirting is easy. It’s the real stuff that makes a date good.”
“Five minutes ago you told me you were going to stand me up, and now you’re telling me my flirting is cliché?”
“I could say no, but then I’d be lying, and I suck at lying. Too many details to keep track of.”
Wasn’t that refreshing. If it were true. Because based on his experience with women there were always a few little white lies deep down that had the potential to blow things sky high.
“So you’re an angel?”
“What does that mean?”
“You don’t date. You don’t lie. And you’d rather spend the night playing with your toolbox.”
“Better than spending it with a tool,” she said with such an innocent smile he had to laugh.
“Are you suggesting I’m a tool?”
“You were the one talking about my box.”
“No box talk. Got it.”
Before he could say more, the bartender came over. “What can I get you two?”
The green-eyed beauty studied the bartender, then the exit, and finally him. She was going to bolt. If he was a smart man, he’d let her. Being in public with a beautiful woman after his day was asking for trouble. He was supposed to be focusing on how to fix things, not charm a woman out of her panties. But this was the first time he’d felt like a normal guy without the weight of the world on his shoulders. He didn’t want it to end.
“I really do have to get going,” she said.
“At least let me buy you one drink. That way you can tell your aunt you didn’t stand me up.”
God, he was an ass. Instead of correcting her mistake, he was playing along. Oh, but what a fun game it was turning out to be.
The bartender narrowed her eyes as if trying to place him, and it took everything he had not to pull his ballcap down even further and disappear into his hoodie.
Angel seemed to weigh her options, and he knew the moment she gave in, because she let out a sigh. “Fine. One drink. But then I really do have to go.”
“Unless I can convince you to turn that one drink into two.”
“You really need to work on your game.”
“Noted. Now, what shall it be?”
He expected here to say some kind of fruity drink in a martini glass, like most women he came across in the city of angels, but instead she reached over, grabbed his beer, and took a swig.
She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand then smacked her lips. “That’s good. I’ll have what he’s having.”
“Make that two,” he said to the bartender, who was still studying him as she walked off.
“So, Jamison,” she said shocking the shit out of him. She clearly knew his name, not his professional name but the name her parents used.
He glanced around the bar, looking for his agent to pop out and say, “Gotcha!” But when he met her gaze, there wasn’t an ounce of deception there. She had really come here to meet him, which made him wonder what the actual fuck was going on. “Why did you agree to this date? You don’t seem like the kind of guy who needs to be matched.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, you’re…” She waved a hand down his body.
“I’m what?”
She gave him a challenging look. “You know what you are.”
“Charming? Sexy? Your kind of guy?”
“I was thinking more… confident erring toward cocky? And conventionally handsome,” she said. It didn’t sound like a compliment.
“Are you not into conventionally handsome men?”
She held her hands up to show off her chipped nails. “My go-to style is a ponytail, jeans and a tank top. I prefer moisturizer to makeup, and I’d rather spend my night demoing than dating. I’m as far from conventional as a person can get.”
“I’m a sucker for a good ponytail. You’re too pretty for makeup. And I’d demo with you any night of the week.”
She was so startled by his answer, she actually blushed before looking down at the bar top. She took great care aligning his coaster with the counter’s edge. It was the first time she’d broken eye contact since she’d sat down. It made him wonder what kind of assholes she’d dated in the past.
“I feel like we’re bordering on talking about my box again.”
“Angel, I can talk about your box all night long, but I’d hate to come off as a conventional tool.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I thought you said you didn’t lie.”
“I don’t,” she challenged. “When I said conventionally handsome, I just meant that most women in this bar would sell their soul to be sitting in my chair.”
“Let me guess, you’re not most women.”
“Like I said, maybe once upon a time, but I’m more focused on my business at the moment. It doesn’t leave a lot of room for dating. If I was even interested in dating. Which I am not.”
She might not want to dip her toes in the dating pool, but he was pretty certain she found him attractive—conventionally or otherwise. There was only one way to find out.
Decker leaned in so that his breath skated along the curve of her ear as he whispered, “So you’ve said. Yet you’re still here.”
He felt her shiver at the contact and that was all the clarification he needed.
“Only because that is a damn fine stout. How could I pass that up?”
“Then it has nothing to do with the company?”
Unabashed, she met his gaze head-on. She didn’t play it coy like other women. Oh no, she was too real for that. “Maybe a little. Plus, we’re both in the same industry. Do you know how rare that is in a city full of celebrities and entitled assholes?”
He kept his mouth shut because he was both a celebrity and, as tonight’s video implied, an entitled asshole. Not to mention she had no idea that he hadn’t come here for a date.
“So, why new builds?” she asked. “Besides the money.”
“I like the idea of starting from scratch. A fresh slate. How about you? Why flips?”
“‘Flips’ sounds so transactional. I see myself as more of a protector of the forgotten. I like discovering the history and memories of a house and then passing that passion along to the next owners. How long have you been in construction?”
How to answer this one without giving away his hockey past? He didn’t know why, but he wanted to keep his identity a secret for as long as he could. But there was something going on here that he couldn’t identify. All he knew was that he didn’t want it to end. Not to mention, the moment she found out who he was, she’d google him. He already knew what would come up first. So he’d play this game until his time ran out.
“It’s the family business. Me and my brother took it over from my dad.” There. That was vague enough to avoid further inquiry into his past professions, yet not a lie. “And you?”
“I started restoring antique furniture when I was a kid. We couldn’t afford new anything, so I’d search swap meets and find treasures that needed some TLC. Restoration was love at first sight for me. When I turned twenty, I blew my entire life savings on my first house. It sat on the market so long it nearly bankrupted me. Then I learned that people want some kind of emotional connection to their home that goes deeper than design and aesthetics, so I got smart about getting the history of the house out there and it practically sold itself. I reinvested into my second and then my third. And here I am, restoring two houses a year.”
Color him impressed. “Do you do it all by yourself?”
“I hire out specialty work like plumbing and electric, but for the most part I’m a one-woman show—well, with my best friend Kiki. How about you? New builds require a big crew. How I that?”
There were so many people on payroll that he felt like a joke in comparison. It took thirty men to do what this woman did by herself.
“A large crew comes with a lot of responsibility,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t get my hands dirty.”
She grabbed his hand and held it up for inspection. There went that bolt of chemistry again, coursing up his arm and through his body.
“Dirty enough for you?” he whispered.
Her eyes flew to his and her breath caught. She dropped his hand like it burned her.
Join the club, Angel.
“What makes you think I like dirty?” she whispered back, so low he barely heard it over the excited chatter of the crowd. Even though the bar was enormous, packed shoulder to shoulder with a hundred patrons, it felt as if it was just the two of them, alone in their own bubble.
Decker hadn’t felt like that in a long while. If ever.
“Besides the way you’re looking at me? Gut instinct. And my instincts are always right. What are your instincts telling you?”
She opened her mouth to speak, and he practically fell off his chair, he was leaning in so close to make sure he heard every word. Just then, the bartender came back with their beers.
“I knew I recognized you,” the bartender said.
Decker felt his stomach bottom out.
He felt his not-a-date date’s eyes on him, but he refused to meet her gaze when he said, “You must be mistaking me for someone else.”
“You’re Jamison Decker,” she said. “And you’re on television.”
He glanced up at the screen on the opposite side of the bar, unable to believe his luck. There was a photo of him and Holly with the words Sex Tape Scandal scrolling on the ticker tape at the bottom of the screen.
He turned to the charming and beautiful woman beside him, but she was looking at the screen, mouth gaped open in horror.
“I thought you were in construction,” she said sharply.
“I am,” he said. Once he started talking, he couldn’t stop himself. Hell, he’d say anything to take them back to thirty seconds ago. “I used to be a pro hockey player.”
“I can see that. And so much more.” She was standing and fishing through her pocket. She pulled out a twenty and tossed it on the bar.
He grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. He didn’t want the night to end on a bad note. He’d had too much fun for that to happen. Plus, he wanted to see what this pull he had toward her meant. “That video was a long time ago. I’m not that guy anymore. I promise. Just give me a minute to explain.”
To his surprise, she didn’t move. Well, she did fold her arms across her chest in a fuck-off-and-die kind of way. But she was willing to hear him out. “You have thirty seconds.”
“That video was taken in the early stages of my career when the fame and what came with it was all new. I was a stupid kid who made a stupid decision with a consenting, enthusiastic partner. Haven’t you ever made a decision you regretted?”
Her eyes softened a bit, but her stance was still giving clear fuck-off vibes. “I have.”
He felt his chest loosen. Maybe he could fix this and rewind so she was still smiling at him like he was interesting and funny—and not some douche who supposedly screwed his ex on film. “I was really enjoying our night and I’d love to get out of here and explain more.”
He looked around the bar and her gaze followed. He knew the minute she understood that the entire bar had gone silent and all eyes—and a hundred phones—were pointed at them.
Her hands nervously came together in front of her. “I don’t know. I’m not big on chaos, and you’re a chaos agent. Maybe it’s just best if we call it a night.”
She turned to leave again and again he caught her elbow. “Wait, um…” he went to say her name and remembered he didn’t know it.
She yanked her arm back. “You don’t even know my name, do you?” she asked, and he remained silent. “Oh my god. Did you even know this was a date?”
“No, but when you clearly thought it was, I didn’t know how to correct you.”
“Maybe by telling the truth.” She shook her head in disgust. “No matter what you say, you’re still that guy. Because if you had any respect for me at all, you would have done the hard thing and been honest from the start.”
“I didn’t want to embarrass you.”
She waved a hand at the crowd, who were rapt with every interaction they had.
“Well, you screwed that up real good.” She looked at the screen. “Then again it looks like screwing comes easy to you. I would say forget my name, but that won’t be a problem since you never knew it to begin with.”

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

Poppy Hart is one viral project away from hitting a million followers when she inherits a crumbling Mid Century Modern house in the Hollywood Hills—every DIYer’s dream. Even better, her eccentric Aunt Opal pulls strings to land her a full-production renovation show. The downside? The contractor is none other than Decker “Drill ’Em Hard” Jamison, former NHL legend, current shirtless menace, and the man Poppy once shared the most catastrophic blind date in the history of blind dates with. Walking away isn’t an option—not when this show could change her life and Opal is the only person who’s never abandoned her.

Decker isn’t exactly thrilled either. After a career-ending injury and one very unfortunate neon-orange-thong scandal, he needs a PR miracle, not six weeks trapped with a judgmental, freckled DIY princess who thinks a good time is alphabetizing paint samples. Still, the contract is signed, the cameras are rolling, and neither of them knows the truth: the “renovation show” is actually Opal’s secret matchmaking experiment, and Poppy and Decker are her final, most chaotic test subjects. Soon they’re drowning in viewer-dictated challenges, mysterious house mishaps, and a rescue dog with better instincts than either of them—while the sparks they swore they’d never feel again start burning dangerously close.

But when the truth about the show explodes—on camera—trust fractures, loyalties snap, and Poppy is left wondering why being abandoned by Decker hurts worse than anything before. The only way to fix what’s broken is for both of them to take the biggest risk of all: telling the truth, choosing each other, and betting that sometimes the real love experiment isn’t filmed for television—it’s the one that changes your life for good.
Book Links:  Amazon |
 
 

Meet the Author:

Marina Adair is a New York Times author whose fun, flirty contemporary romances have sold over a million copies. She has hit #1 overall in Amazon Kindle Paid and her St. Helena Vineyard series was optioned and made into the original Hallmark Channel Vineyard movies: Autumn in the Vineyard, Summer in the Vineyard, and Valentines in the Vineyard. Raised in the San Francisco Bay Area. She holds a MFA from San Jose University and currently lives in North Carolina with her husband, daughter, three neurotic cats, and a malti-poo named Biggie Smalls.
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