Spotlight & Giveaway: The Love Intervention by Caroline Khoury

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Caroline Khoury to HJ!

Hi Caroline and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, The Love Intervention!

 
Hi lovely Harlequin Junkie readers, thanks for having me on the blog
 

Please summarize the book for the readers here:

Clinical scientist Laila has no time to date. Cooped up in a hospital lab all day, she’s busy working towards her five-year plan. But when her carefully structured world starts to crumble, her friends stage an intervention – a love intervention.
Their plan is to remind Laila there’s more to life than work and reconnect her with the three men who stole her heart while she was studying in the States ten years ago – Austin, Edoardo, and Mateo. From California to Puerto Rico and Costa Rica, Laila reunites with her past and reignites passions she thought were long dormant. But who will be the one to rewrite her five-year plan? And was it just her love life which needed an intervention?
 

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

“There was never a square. There was only ever a line from me to you”

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

• The inspiration for this novel came from a hug from a lovely young Greek guy I was dating a couple of years ago. I had never known the power of a hug until he held me on a park bench and I let the waves of oxytocin envelop me.
• This novel inspired me to become a touch therapist and I recently passed my diploma in touch therapy and hope to have my own practice one day.

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

I have three heroes in this novel (yes very greedy) and my heroine meets them all in the past first . I think with Austin, Laila was attracted to his presence and his good looks. With Edoardo, Laila was a little drunk when she first met him, but it was most definitely his accent and smile. With Mateo, it was his kindness that attracted Laila as he helps her through a panic attack when they go on a Ferris wheel together.

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

Sex scenes don’t make me blush at all and I love writing them. I had immense fun writing the blindfolded wine tasting scene with all the banter between Laila and Austin. It gets very hot very quickly and leads to a very steamy outdoor shower sex scene.

A snippet:
I took some more sips and finished the glass. ‘It’s definitely your white zinfandel.’
A slow clap sounded around me. ‘Impressive, Clarke,’ he said, and I beamed. ‘Now open your mouth.’
A breath hitched at the back of my throat. Instead of questioning I did as I was told. Something touched my lip. It was wet and slippery.
‘Bite,’ he said, and I did.

Readers should read this book….

I think fans of pacy, spicy, romance novels with heart should read this book. My books have been described as bingeable which is a huge compliment.

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

I don’t have any up-c0ming releases at the moment as I have to go back on the query trail again so I am finishing up my fifth novel to hopefully go out there and get representation.
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: I have two copies of the Love Intervention to giveaway. And if the winners reach out to me on Instagram (@carolinekauthor) I can send them a bonus chapter

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: What team are you? #teamaustin #teamedoardo or #teammateo

 
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Excerpt from The Love Intervention:

Chapter 1
C₈H₁₁NO₂. The chemical formula for dopamine: an organic chemical of the catecholamine and phenethylamine families. Why I needed to know this, I had no idea. But if I nodded knowledgeably, then maybe my best friend Jena would get to the point.
‘Dopamine is known as the feel-good neurotransmitter and it serves several important neurological functions essential for the survival of our species,’ she said, reading the words off her laptop screen. ‘Its existence helps with memory and learning and is very important for romantic attachments. Dopamine is released through’ – she clicked a key – ‘touch, when you are attracted to someone and when you—’
‘Orgasm,’ my other bestie – Samira – interjected, her face lighting up. Her deep voice reverberated around the bar, causing a few heads to turn.
We were sat around a high table in Simmons, a former historic pub between Warren Street and Euston Square stations. I was perched on a stool while Samira and Jena had camped on the leather banquette opposite. Neon quote signs were nailed to the brick walls and the whole place was bathed in a red light giving a burlesque feel. A disco ball featured in the centre of the ceiling for when the place would turn into a karaoke bar later on. But there was no way I would still be here for that transformation.
‘Yes, orgasm,’ Jena whispered, clicking the key again so the word appeared in dark pink.
I awaited the next slide and slurped my virgin daiquiri. Brain freeze. Rubbing my temples sadly didn’t alleviate the numbing sensation in my head nor did it eradicate the thought that I needed to find a way to end this evening rapidly and get back to the lab. One of our senior cardiology surgeons at Royal London where I worked as a clinical scientist had slammed a report on my desk at five with questions surrounding my team’s findings on a biopsy. The buck stopped with me, so it didn’t matter that the rest of the team were clocking off when it had been handed over. I had to address his concerns and get back to him ASAP.
Jena had travelled over an hour to get to a bar close to Euston hoping that would make it easier for me to join them, and Samira had a babysitter booked for the whole night, as she reminded me when I had tried to bail a couple of hours ago. These end-of-the-working-week meet-ups had occurred religiously for almost ten years – ever since my return from my Master’s at NYU. Work and our love lives (or lack of) usually dominated our conversations, but a PowerPoint presentation had never been a feature of our discussions and my interest had been piqued as soon as Jena lifted the laptop from her bag after I’d rushed in late.
She pressed the return key and another slide popped up. ‘Low levels of dopamine can lead to a lack of motivation, an inability to concentrate, depression, anxiety and disturbed sleep.’
As if on cue I yawned, my eyes watering. Atchoo. I sneezed into my jacket sleeve before leaning down and pulling out a pack of tissues from my rucksack nestled at my feet. An assortment of Lemsip sachets and paracetamol packets slipped out and I shoved them back in.
Samira tossed her balayage locks over her shoulder and leaned closer to Jena. ‘When are we gonna hit her with the hot guy slides?’ she whispered behind her hand.
‘I think she’ll be more amenable if we bamboozle her with the science first,’ Jena replied, her voice even lower.
But I had heard every word.
‘Guys, what’s going on?’ I asked. ‘I told you I’ve only got an hour.’ I fanned my face with a coaster. Thermals had been a good idea to shield me from the February arctic freeze and my sub-zero lab but not for this heated, crowded cocktail bar. Or was I sweating cobs thinking about the report on my desk? But if I bailed now, it would be the third week in a row I had cut one of our sacred evenings short.
‘Laila?’ Jena laid a cool hand over my warm one. It tempered the heat and was a comfort.
‘Hmm?’ I murmured.
‘We’re worried about you,’ she continued. ‘You’ve been clock-watching since the second you sat down, you haven’t removed your suit jacket—’
‘You’re having a mocktail,’ Samira interrupted, giving a slight shudder.
‘Please, guys, cut me some slack.’
‘We’re not raising these points to be mean,’ Jena said. ‘We’re commenting on them because we are your friends, and we thought you needed a proper break tonight.’
Samira raised a hand. ‘Jena thinks that. I think you need to get laid. Can I move on to my half of the presentation now, please?’ she said before I had a chance to comment on the middle part of what she had uttered.
I needed to take whatever it was they were plotting more seriously if I was going to slip away swiftly. ‘OK,’ I said, unbuttoning my jacket and placing it on the stool next to me, which was piled high with our winter coats. ‘I am all ears.’
‘Finally.’ Samira grinned broadly, revelling in this minor victory.
‘Can’t we go back to my slides?’ Jena asked.
‘No!’ Samira and I said in unison and laughed when our eyes met, knowing full well that once Jena started talking about anything she felt passionately about, we would be there all night.
‘OK, OK,’ Jena conceded, her jaw locked and nostrils flared. It was a look she usually saved for her Year Elevens when she had delivered a lecture on the importance of exams, but no one was listening. She taught biology at a state secondary school in south London, and it pained her that most of her students would give up the subject the second they had finished their GCSEs.
Jena rolled up the sleeves of her cardigan and clicked the mouse several times. Slides with the words ‘oxytocin’, ‘serotonin’ and ‘endorphins’ flashed by until she settled on one with a word flashing intermittently.
I spluttered my drink before wiping my mouth with a napkin and looking over my shoulder in case a camera crew was lurking and I was about to be Punk’d. ‘You’re kidding, right?’
‘No, we are not kidding, Laila,’ Samira said, her chin raised. ‘This is an intervention. A…’ She nudged Jena and another slide popped up with a neon heart pulsing.
‘Love intervention,’ they sang, harmonising the words.
I drew a deep breath. ‘For the love of God,’ I mumbled as I grabbed my suit jacket and slipped off the stool, shrugging my arms into the sleeves.
‘Wait,’ Jena said, a panicked look on her face. ‘Please, hear us out.’
My earlier feelings of guilt evaporated and in its wake a surge of irritation bubbled beneath. ‘I told you I couldn’t come out tonight, but you kept badgering me. If I can’t figure out why the findings from this biopsy are inconclusive, my job will be on the line and more importantly someone’s life will be in my hands. And I have to work on this tonight before heading home and tending to my mum. Seriously. Grow up, the two of you. We are not back at school and life does not revolve around men.’
Jena gave me one of her deer-caught-in-the-headlights looks, the one that made me instantly regret those words I had uttered.
‘I’m sorry, that was blunt.’ I drained my drink and pushed it to the centre of the table, a shiver rippling up my spine at the sudden influx of cold liquid. ‘I just need to get back to work.’
Jena clenched her fists. She was steeling herself to say something and knowing her it was going to be big.
‘We know you’ve got a lot on your plate, Laila,’ she began. ‘We know you spend every waking moment working in the lab or looking after your mum, but we are your best friends in the whole wide world, have known you since you were sixteen and we wouldn’t be doing all this’ – she waved at her laptop screen – ‘if we weren’t genuinely worried about you. If you’d had the patience to listen to my slides, you would understand the detrimental effect the lack of these chemicals has on the nervous system and the long-term effects these damaged neurological pathways can have on you if you don’t get a dose of these molecules on a regular basis. You need to stop. Recalibrate. You have been working tirelessly the last ten years with very little time for much else.’
I continued buttoning up my jacket. Jena meant well, but I didn’t need a lecture from her as if I had a second mother.
‘OK, I can see Jena’s words are having zero effect on you,’ Samira said, standing up, ‘so it’s time for me to be blunt.’ She laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘You’re heading for burnout, girl. And if you don’t do something about it now, all this chasing of this promotion, that project and nursing your mum until she is back on her feet again will be impossible cos you will be shot to shit. I mean, look at you.’ She gave me a not-so-subtle once-over with a flick of her hand up and down my body. ‘You look a mess.’
I self-consciously tucked my shirt into my black work trousers, noticing a stain at the top of my left leg. Dabbing my finger with spit, I wetted the area but to no avail.
‘No offence to women in their forties,’ she continued, ‘but you seriously look ten years older. Those bags under your eyes are deep… and when was the last time you went to the hairdresser’s?’
I patted my dark brown hair, conscious of split ends and, even worse, the first sighting of a grey hair, which ordinarily shouldn’t be an issue, but I was about to turn thirty-one soon and thought this was a little premature.
‘Now,’ Samira said, softening her tone and reclaiming her seat. ‘You are going to sit down and hear us out. We won’t take more than another twenty minutes of your time. Then you are going back to the lab to be a superhero and figure out this’ – she waved her hand around – ‘inconclusiveness, while I use your keys to check in on your mum and get her what she needs. OK?’
A deep breath filled my lungs. The ache that had nestled on my chest dissolved instantly when I took in their sympathetic smiles. They knew me better than anyone in the world and something in my brain told me I had to sit and listen.
‘Thanks, Samira. I’d appreciate that. I can message her and say you’re stopping by.’
‘I’m happy to do it. It’s been a while since we caught up.’
‘I think she’d love that.’
Samira’s smile broadened. Mum and Samira had an unbreakable bond – more so than Mum and I had. I was sure Samira was the daughter Mum wished she’d had but I had never confided in either of them that this was a thought I had harboured for years.
‘Right,’ Samira said, shifting her scarlet boob-tube dress up a fraction. ‘Sit down and listen up.’
Her tone came across as an order, as if she was up on the investment floor at the bank she worked for, issuing instructions at one of her minions. I took heed and settled back on my seat. Samira caught the eye of the bartender, throwing one of her winning smiles at him before raising her eyebrows and taking in a sweep of our drinks with her beautifully manicured hand. The gesture was met with a salute and a wink.
Taking charge of the laptop, Samira straightened. ‘Sun, sea and sex,’ she announced. ‘When was the last time you experienced any of these three things?’
I chewed my bottom lip in concentration as I considered her question. ‘Well…’
‘Bzzz,’ she trilled, causing me to lean back a fraction.
‘If you have to even think about the answer to that question or even bore us with the reasons why you haven’t had them in ages, then this needs changing.’ She nodded at Jena, who clicked onto the next slide.
My eyes bulged at the image of the semi-naked man dominating the screen: all oiled muscles and bulging biceps. A memory scratched away at the back of my mind. ‘Is that—’
‘Paul Crossfield? Your first kiss? Yes, it is him. Major glow-up.’
I leaned in and studied the image more carefully.
‘Gay,’ she declared.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Came out five years ago.’
‘My first boyfriend is gay?’
‘Technically not a boyfriend but yes, ’fraid so. Next slide.’
A photo of me and Alex Benedictus popped up from a New Year’s Eve party during lower sixth. My cheeks flushed at the memory of him. He was the guy I lost my virginity to, the one who happily took it and moved on to the next sacrificial victim a week later. Jena clicked again and an older version of Alex appeared – all chunky-cable-knit-jumper-wearing and floppy-haired, with two bright-eyed, blonde children at his feet.
‘Married. Two kids. Though word on the street has it that he has some French girl on the side.’ Samira winked.
‘How do you know all this?’ I asked. ‘And more to the point, why are you telling me?’
‘Jena and I have our sources and we have been working on this a long time, researching who from your past is single, separated or divorced and where everyone is living.’ She began clicking on some other slides with a random selection of my previous hook-ups/guys I had briefly dated.
‘You make it seem like I have dated every guy on the planet. My love life hasn’t been that active. And you haven’t answered my “why do I care?” question.’
She scrolled back to the start of the selection. ‘You care because it has been a long time since you got laid or had anything that even resembled a relationship and look where all these guys are now…’ She pointed at the words ‘married’, ‘engaged’ and ‘off the market’. There was one major omission in this collection of men, but Samira knew he was a trigger and had obviously excluded him. Besides, I already knew where he was.
‘You know why I haven’t wanted anything serious. Nothing fits in with my career plan.’
‘Correction. Nothing has fitted in with your plan up until now. You’re a doctor for heaven’s sake.’
‘I have a doctorate. There’s a difference.’
Samira rolled her eyes. ‘Whatever. Semantics. You have the job you’ve always dreamed of and your mum is going to be back on her feet in no time. What then?’
‘Then I have to get the next promotion, the one that will take me to the next level as supervisor. And I want my name on a cutting-edge piece of research. Listen, Samira. I appreciate the interest in my love life and when my next holiday is going to be, but it’s February and life is hectic. There are other ways to get a shot of all these molecules. I’ll, um… I’ll join a running club.’
‘You can’t even make it to the bus stop without getting a cramp.’
‘Then I’ll join a yoga class.’
Jena shifted in her seat. ‘What Samira is trying to say is, we think you not only need to have a break, you need to fall in love. There’s nothing greater. The security and safety of two strong arms embracing you on a regular basis, the feeling of having someone in your corner, supporting you and—’
‘Sex on tap.’ Samira let her shoulders dance. ‘The high of repeated orgasms.’
I folded my arms and decided to humour them. ‘So, you have trawled through all my previous boyfriends, hook-ups, coffee dates and have come up with my ideal man who is going to fulfil all my sexual and loving needs and can fit in with my long hours in the lab and the fact that I still live at home and who is also the only guy from my past that is single?’
Samira scoffed. ‘Laila, we have done more than that, we have come up with a plan – the Love Intervention plan. Three guys, who live in three different countries, offering you an abundance of sun, sea and… the rest is up to you. The guys in question are…’
I sat rigid, my focus on the laptop screen, as she paused to make the big reveal. Which three guys had they unearthed? In my mind, there was no one from my past that I had even given a second thought to. And I didn’t need a man – or men in this case. My life was complete and fulfilling as it was. Love was a complication, and I had sworn off ever falling in love after wasting my mid-twenties thinking I had found it with the one guy that had been omitted from their presentation – Josh.
Whoever they had discovered, I wasn’t interested.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

Laila Clarke’s friends are staging an intervention: a love intervention. Cooped up in her lab all day, clinical scientist Laila has no time for dating. But when she reaches near burn out, her friends stage an intervention to kickstart her dating life and reconnect her with the three guys who almost stole her heart ten years ago when she was studying in the States – Austin, Edoardo and Mateo. From California to Puerto Rico and onto Costa Rica, Laila reignites passions long dormant, but who will be the one to rewrite her five year plan and was it only her love life that needed an intervention?
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Meet the Author:

Caroline Khoury was born in Beirut to a Lebanese mother and Welsh father. Having grown up in the suburbs of London, she returned there after over ten years living in Hong Kong, Japan and the US. Single mother to two amazing teen girls and writer of armchair escapist romances.
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