Spotlight & Giveaway: The Plot Twist by Eleanor Goymer

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Eleanor Goymer to HJ!

Hi Eleanor and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, The Plot Twist!

 
Hi! Thanks for taking a look at The Plot Twist, I do hope you enjoy reading it!
 

Please summarize the book for the readers here:

When romcom author Allie Edwards crosses paths with bestselling crime novelist – aka publishing dinosaur – Martin Clark at a party, they discover they both have crippling writer’s block, overdue manuscripts and precisely zero words to show to their respective editors.
With deadlines looming, Allie and Martin decide to switch plots and tell each other’s stories. In the writing process, Allie not only gains a father-figure in Martin, but also meets gorgeous events caterer Will, the answer to the leading man-shaped hole in her life and her lack of spicy material.
Caught between love and her career, what could possibly go wrong?
 

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

‘There was nothing sexier than a man being straightforward and honest about what he wanted’

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

• It’s set in London but I originally dreamt it up when I was in Washington DC!
• I’ve worked in publishing for many years so I had lots of juicy stories to include, I couldn’t tell all of them…!
• The party where Allie first meets Will is in one of my favourite places in London – the courtyard of the V&A Musuem

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

Allie likes Will immediately, she likes his cheekbones and his smile and the hint of a tattoo that she can see under his white shirt.
Will thinks Allie is smart and funny and a talented writer.

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

The ‘twist’ scene when Allie is in Martin and Angie’s house and realises something really quite crucial put butterflies in my tummy. I could just imagine how disorientating and weird it must have been for her to be there as she realised…

Readers should read this book….

If they like rom coms, London, the book world, smart women and hot chefs!

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

I am working on a new rom com. It’s friends to enemies to lovers with a ginger cat and a hot musician thrown in. It’s all about music and how certain songs can mean the world to the person listening, or the person singing them.
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: A print copy of THE PLOT TWIST by Eleanor Goymer

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: If you were suffering from writers block, what would you do to get out of it?

 
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Excerpt from The Plot Twist:

Allie pushed against a door she thought looked promising and tumbled outside onto the street. Before she could turn back, the door slammed behind her. She quickly scanned the side of the door where she was now standing and immediately noticed two things; firstly there was no handle on her side, and secondly the door looked amazingly solid for such an old building. Not such a promising door after all then.
‘Dammit!’ she shouted and kicked the door, then really wished she hadn’t when the pain jarred through her leg. The strappy silver sandals she had chosen to wear for the party were not designed for kicking in heavy Victorian doors.
‘It’s locked,’ came a morose voice from her left.
Allie swung round to see who was there and saw a man leaning against the wall smoking.
‘So I gathered,’ Allie said acerbically. ‘Any idea how to get back in?’
The man shrugged. ‘I believe this is the door they’re using for catering, so if you wait around long enough I’m sure someone will come through.’
Allie blew her cheeks out in frustration and leaned back against the wall, keeping a good distance from this strange man. Because after all, this might be a swanky publishing party but it was also a back alley in London. She contemplated asking him how long he had been waiting to be let back in and then decided against engaging a stranger in conversation for the exact same reasons – a back alley. London. Late at night.
He, it seemed, had no such qualms – the privilege of being male, Allie thought to herself, quickly sizing him up and wondering if she could take him on in a fight. If she used one of her sandals as a weapon then she might just have the edge.
‘You were at the party?’ he asked. His voice was deep with a hint of gravel in it, probably caused by the smoking Allie thought, looking again at the lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. As she looked more closely, she realised he was older than she had initially thought, definitely in his sixties – more plausible then, that she could beat him in a fight. And he seemed familiar, Allie felt sure she had seen him somewhere before.
‘I was,’ she confirmed. ‘I was trying to find the coat check but it looks like I took a wrong turn,’ she said, indicating their surroundings.
She was rewarded by a bark of laughter. ‘Looks like you did. Personally, I never bother with them.’
‘Parties or coat checks?’
He turned to face her and raised his eyebrow. ‘It’s a fair question, isn’t it, seeing as we’re both avoiding the party.’
‘I wasn’t avoiding it,’ Allie smarted. And now, looking at him face on, Allie was sure she recognised him.
‘I meant coat checks. Although I find nowadays parties are something I can take or leave as well.’
‘Yes, well that’s because you’re a man. Try walking home in a dress and high heels and then see if you need a coat check.’ Allie didn’t mean to sound so caustic, she just really wanted to know how long she was going to be stuck outside, making small talk with a stranger.
The man shrugged and pushed himself up from his slouching position allowing the streetlamp to cast its light across his face.
‘I know who you are!’ Allie said, suddenly, and then was immediately embarrassed to have made it so obvious that she had been studying him. But he didn’t seem the least bothered, as if he was used to this happening. He put his hand out towards her. ‘Martin Clark,’ he said, ‘and you are?’
‘Erm, Allie Edwards.’ Allie wondered if he would notice how sweaty her palm had become during her race down the corridors and if she could get away with wiping it on her dress. She did a surreptitious wipe down, hoping that the darkness of the alleyway would hide the movement. He took her hand without seeming to notice anything amiss.
‘I didn’t realise Brinkman’s published you.’
Martin Clark had been a huge crime writer in the 1990s. Every one of his books had topped the charts and Allie was sure that at least one of them had been made into a Hollywood movie. Something her dad had made her watch one long Sunday afternoon in her youth. And then, like so many writers, he had disappeared without a trace, and she couldn’t recall him publishing anything recently. Allie shuddered at this fate. Martin made a noise that sounded halfway between a groan and a laugh. ‘I’m not sure I can claim to be published by anyone anymore.’
Allie looked at him curiously, wondering just what the great Martin Clark was doing hiding out in the back alley behind a publishing party.
‘You’re not under contract with them?’ she asked. ‘I thought they were really picky about only inviting authors who are actually being published that year? I only just scraped in, by the way, in case you were wondering.’
Martin Clark didn’t look like he was wondering anything of the sort. He looked down at the cigarette still smouldering in his hand and then lifted it to his lips, taking a long drag.
‘Anyway,’ Allie began, beginning to feel very awkward and wishing that someone, anyone, would open that door and rescue her from this conversation. She was just starting to think about trying to find her way back around to the front of the building and starting all over again when Martin suddenly spoke.
‘Do you know how soul-destroying these parties are?’
Allie opened her mouth to respond, but Martin ploughed on.
‘Having to make small talk, having to listen to speeches telling us how much we’re all valued.’ He said the word ‘valued’ as if it was something filthy. ‘How important we all are. And all the while knowing that they’re only interested in how soon you can deliver your next manuscript.’
‘Actually,’ began Allie, ‘I do know.’ She leaned her head back against the wall and stared up at the sky. ‘It’s been almost twelve months since my last book was published. I’ve missed three delivery deadlines, and I’ve now promised my editor I’ll have something for her to read in the next few days. And do you know how many words I’ve actually written?’
Martin turned to look at her, his interest piqued by her confession.
‘None,’ she confirmed. ‘Zero. Zilch. That’s how many. And the worst thing is? I don’t even think I can write anymore. At least certainly not the type of books I used to write.’
Martin’s eyes began to sparkle, a ghost of a smile playing about his lips.
‘Don’t laugh,’ she snapped at him. ‘It’s not funny.’
‘Sorry.’ He held his hands up in defense. ‘I was only smiling because it’s exactly the position I find myself in.’
‘You too?’ Allie looked at him in surprise. ‘But you’re Martin Clark, international bestseller.’
Martin fixed her with a glare. ‘And when exactly did you last see my name on the bestseller lists?’
Allie looked down at her feet, not liking to admit that this was exactly the thought she had had not five minutes before. She shifted from one foot to the other, noticing that the toes in her left foot were now almost completely numb.
‘A while ago,’ she eventually admitted.
‘Exactly.’
They stood in silence for a moment.
‘So, tell me, Allie Edwards, what’s your genre?’
‘Romantic comedies,’ she said as defiantly as she dared. ‘I bet you’ve got a lot to say about that,’ she said with a challenge.
‘Don’t stereotype,’ he warned, waving his finger at her. ‘There’s probably quite a lot I could learn from your books.’
‘I doubt it,’ she huffed. ‘Especially as I can’t seem to write them anymore.’
He cocked his head in interest. ‘Can I ask why not? Surely you’re just the right age to be using your own romantic entanglements as inspiration.’ He held his hands up. ‘Or am I not allowed to say things like that these days?’
Allie raised her eyebrows at him, and even in the dim light of the alleyway he noticed.
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘this is exactly the reason my books are out of favour and why, I too, find it impossible to write.’
‘Oh, OK. Right.’ Allie didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t deny she was intrigued to meet Martin and to hear about his struggles, but at the same time she wasn’t really in the mood to offer champagne and sympathy to a rich, white man, who suddenly found his views and opinions a tad outdated. But the champagne from the party had obviously loosened his tongue.
‘I’m a dinosaur, Allie. Apparently, I’m completely out of touch with what the readers want. Not able to write anything even vaguely inclusive or diverse.’
Allie grimaced. Given what she knew about novelists of his era, and everything he had said so far, he was probably right. She hoped she wasn’t about to be asked to make him feel better about any previously questionable content he may have written.
‘And that’s just what my wife says about me.’
Allie couldn’t help herself, she let out a big chuckle. Which she immediately tried to cover. Martin flapped his hand at her, giving her permission to laugh, which set him off too. And then Allie couldn’t stop. She tried to remember the last time she had laughed so much and couldn’t.
‘Well, that’s cheered me up,’ she finally said when the laughter had subsided.
‘Glad my disastrous career can be of assistance to somebody,’ said Martin.
‘So, if that’s what your wife says, who by the way I like already, what does your editor think? Don’t they have any good ideas on how to update your content?’
‘I hate that word.’
‘What, content?’
Martin nodded.
Allie grinned. ‘Thought you would, that’s why I used it.’ She was beginning to enjoy baiting Martin.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

When romcom author Allie Edwards crosses paths with bestselling crime novelist – aka publishing dinosaur – Martin Clark at a party, they discover they both have crippling writer’s block, overdue manuscripts and precisely zero words to show to their respective editors.
With deadlines looming, Allie and Martin decide to switch plots and tell each other’s stories. In the writing process, Allie not only gains a father-figure in Martin, but also meets gorgeous events caterer Will, the answer to the leading man-shaped hole in her life and her lack of spicy material.
Caught between love and her career, what could possibly go wrong?
Book Links:  Amazon | B&N | iTunes | kobo | Google |
 
 

Meet the Author:

Eleanor Goymer is the author of The Fallback and The Plot Twist. Born and raised in the UK, Eleanor now lives in the USA. Find her on instagram @eleanorgoymerwrites
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