Hi readers!  I’m so excited to share welcome back Marilyn Brant to Austenesque Reviews.  You may already know that Marilyn has a lot of fabulous books published, but some that might be of special interest to Austenesque readers is her Perfect series – which tell the stories of a modern-day Lizzy/Darcy relationship and Jane/Bingley relationship, her debut novel, According to Jane – which is a lovely Austen-Inspired story about a young girl who has Jane Austen’s voice in her head, and her latest novel in her Mirabelle Harbor series, You Give Love a Bad Name!  Marilyn is here to chat a share a little more about her latest book, You Give Love a Bad Name!

~ Excerpt ~

I’d been out with my teaching friends from the foreign language department, drinking wine at The Lounge on Monday night, when I caught sight of my Dream Man.

“Oh, just look at him,” Lisa, our resident high-school German teacher, said in that swoony voice she usually reserved for pictures of hot firemen on Facebook. “I just want to run my fingers through his dark wavy hair and unfasten that cravat.” She paused to tilt her phone and zoom in on the image. “And touch his legs. In those tight breeches—”

Marcie, who taught French with me, snatched the phone from her. “Let me see that.” She silently analyzed the photo then nodded. “Yeah. Il est parfait. He’s perfect. His hair. His figure. And he can pull off the period costume without looking like a total dork.”

Janet, who was in her tenth year of teaching upper-level Spanish, wrestled the phone away from her and held it so that Christine, also in the Spanish department, and I could finally see the picture. The three of us leaned in to study the Entertainment Monthly website and read the article below the photo, which featured an “intimate first look” at the actor cast to play Mr. Darcy in the latest British film adaptation of Pride and Prejudice.

“Professionally trained at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre,” Janet read. “Studied dance, art, poetry, fencing, and voice.”

“A longtime Londoner and a vegan,” Christine added, sounding impressed. “He got his start on the stage, had a walk-on role in the BBC drama Poldark, has been on Masterpiece a number of times, and starred in a touring musical production of The Scarlet Pimpernel.” She read further. “And—whoa, he’s even made a guest appearance on Downton Abbey.”

Everyone at our table squealed.

“How did I miss that episode?” Lisa asked.

I finally got a closer look at the picture. Gareth Wellington was gorgeous, well read, and clearly talented. Too bad he wasn’t actually Mr. Darcy. Or a man who lived within a reasonable driving distance of Chicago. Or even single.

“He has a husband,” Janet said with a disappointed sigh. “From Stratford-upon-Avon.”

Of course he did.

All the good men in the world were either gay, taken, or fictional.

We talked for a little while longer about English, Scottish, Irish, and Aussie actors and the hotness of their accents before we moved on to the classical concert series that had just ended at the Parkside Pavilion, an orchestra hall nearby. Then Janet mentioned something about an upcoming tapas tasting at the Flamenco Grill and our discussion turned toward Spanish appetizers.

I found myself laughing louder than usual, although I’d always enjoyed my visits to the wine bar. Even the times I’d been here with the Quest group, a local singles’ club I’d gotten roped into joining, had been fun.

But it was better getting to go out with my teaching friends.

They were all into cultural things, too—from imported cheeses to foreign-language films and international music, from exotic cuisine ideas to world literature and European travel—so I didn’t have to explain myself to them. They loved watching Masterpiece Theater and reading classic novels (in more than one language, even). But, mostly, it was just such a relief to be able to relax when I was with them and not worry about dating. Not have to try to sell my romantic and girly self to some guy who’d just grunt and find my infatuation with flower gardens, French pastries, and Regency-era clothing laughable.

I knew I was well on my way to becoming one of those spinster types who read the English author alphabet (Austen, Brontë, Chaucer, Dickens…), drank tea, and talked mostly to my cat. But what could I do? It was what I liked.

And it wasn’t really as lonely as it seemed. Anything was better than the alternative—being in a relationship with a man who didn’t get me. My friend Sharlene and I had talked about that after the last Quest outing. She’d been married and divorced already, which made her all the more cautious, but after my series of harsh breakups, I’d take a fictional BBC hero over a flesh-and-blood American male any day.

“Hey, I should be leaving soon,” Christine said. “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

I nodded and started collecting my things. Since she was driving me back to my apartment, that meant goodnight for me, too.

“The students are always so hard to manage after a three-day weekend,” Marcie said, frowning as she checked her watch.

“Yeah, we should all go home and get some sleep,” Lisa agreed.

So, my friends and I settled our bill and stepped outside of The Lounge just as a ruckus was getting started next door at Max’s Pub.

“You ass!” this dopey, burly, drunk guy screamed, ineffectively swinging at another drunk guy.

“You witless dickhead!” slurred the second guy. But that didn’t mask his identity. As soon as he spoke, I knew who it was. Everyone did.

“Isn’t that Blake Michaelsen?” Janet whispered.

“Yep,” I whispered back. I’d only seen him in person once before—at a big event at the radio station this summer—and it was, literally, across a crowded room. But Blake’s voice on 102.5 LOVE FM was one of the sexiest I’d ever heard. I listened to him on the radio all the time. And he was my friend Sharlene’s older brother, so I knew a few additional facts about him than I might have otherwise.

Like that he was impulsive.
And loud.

And kind of a manwhore.

Then again, he had a rep in town, so most women knew these things, too. It was just that Shar had actually confirmed them for me.

Blake landed a decent punch and sent the other guy stumbling. But Dopey Dude got back up.

Oh, boy.

Shar was going to be so pissed when she heard about this. And she would. Probably within three minutes or less. Gossip traveled at the speed of sound in Mirabelle Harbor.

There was more yelling between the men, along with a bunch of shouts from the sports-bar crowd surrounding them. It reminded me of the stupid hall fights I’d had the misfortune to have to try to break up at the high school. Dumb boy behavior at its finest. Guys who fought each other because they couldn’t rationally reason their way through a discussion. So foolish and immature. And, worse, so painful to the people who actually cared about these cretins.

Dopey Dude landed a crushing blow to Blake’s abdomen. He doubled over and fell to the pavement. Then the other guy started to seriously pummel Blake while the crowd alternately jeered, taunted, and screamed their encouragement.

I winced. Blake’s dark hair was matted against his forehead with sweat and, also, with some fresh blood. He had a gash across his cheekbones, dirt on his face and neck, and more blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

And he was devastatingly handsome, even then.

Although, with the angry eyes and the snarl on his lips, he looked like the poster child for one the French revolutionary insurgents in Les Misérables. If he decided to build a barricade, storm the Bastille, or lead the crowd in the first verse of “Do You Hear the People Sing?” I wouldn’t dare to stand in his way.

The fact that I couldn’t guess whether he’d be more like a hero or a terrorist in any uprising made me immediately uncomfortable, though. I hadn’t known he’d be like this. His sister could get a little fiery sometimes, but Shar had a marshmallow heart. Blake, by contrast, looked both self-destructive and vicious. Like he could quite effectively kill someone.

Finally, an officer came on the scene and broke up the fight. He ordered us all to leave, but I was rooted to the spot. I couldn’t take my eyes off Blake’s cut-up face. So many bruises, and he was even spitting blood.

Lisa nudged me. “Let’s go, Vicky.”

Before I could make my feet move, Blake looked up at me and our gazes collided. I kept imagining the shock Shar would feel if she saw her brother in this horribly battered, sweaty, and drunken state. She was very protective of her family. But nothing was going to protect Blake from the wrath of one massive hangover and the need for some serious first aid.

His eyes turned even darker and they narrowed dangerously as he continued to stare at me.

Christine tugged me away.

“They were like a couple of wasted jocks after a football game,” she observed on the drive home.

“I know. I was thinking the same thing. Like those boys that get into fights in the school cafeteria. With them, it’s all crazy levels of testosterone and impaired judgment, leading to damage of property and reckless endangerment of themselves and others. Imagine someone acting that way after being out of high school for fifteen years? It’s like they never got all the way through adolescence.”

Christine nodded. “Although I can’t say being a mature grownup all the time is a barrel of laughs.”

I smiled. “True. But anything is better than being forever seventeen.”

I remembered myself at seventeen and suppressed a shudder. That was one time of my life I’d never want to relive, and I had daily witness as to why in my classroom.

Though, if forced to be completely honest with myself, one of the main reasons I’d been drawn to teaching was to see if I could make high school a better experience for kids like me. For those quirky, quiet, culture-loving, rule-following bookworms who really wanted to learn. Not that I was so different now, really. It was just that, back then, I’d felt so alone. I hadn’t realized there might be others like me out there.

I said goodnight to Christine, went inside my apartment, and leaned against the door with a deep sigh. I should go to sleep, but I just couldn’t. All I’d be able to see behind my closed eyes would be Blake Michaelsen’s bloodied, infuriated face.

~ Q & A ~

Q: Even though you write contemporary stories, you reference Jane Austen and/or her characters in many of your novels—why?

A: Because our dear Jane was just so wise… She really understood human nature, and my admiration for her genius only grows with time! I first read Pride & Prejudice as a high-school freshman and I immediately fell in love with Austen’s writing and her worldview. As a novelist, I so enjoy exploring many of the same themes and some similar character types but in a modern setting. To me, Austen’s insights are as relevant now as they ever were. For instance, what could depict “a confined and unvarying society” better than daily high-school life? That was why several significant scenes from my debut novel According to Jane were set at high-school dances, classrooms, and sporting events. And in You Give Love a Bad Name, Vicky is a true romantic and an avid reader of JAFF—Blake is most assuredly not—so it was really fun to set them up as opposites who view the world quite differently and then, slowly, get to show them coming together. This is a tale of “first impressions” that are less than flattering on both sides…until the hero and heroine finally learn to see each other more clearly. Hope it’s a story you’ll enjoy!

Q: Do you choose the playlist for your novels or as you’re writing does the novel choose the music?

A: I think the novel chooses the music. Or, rather, the characters in the novel—as I come to know them and they develop real personalities in my mind—choose the songs that most resonate for them. In the Mirabelle Harbor series, every book title also references a specific song, which was intentional. This was particularly relevant for You Give Love a Bad Name because Blake is a radio DJ for a station named “LOVE FM,” and “The Eighties” as a decade is part of the theme for the big Homecoming dance in the story. There is a lot of music in this novel, and I even got to make up a recording artist and write part of a song for him! (Such fun!!) As for the earlier books in the series, when I was writing The One That I Want, I’d find myself thinking things like, “Which song would Julia really love? Which one would make her cry? Or laugh?” With the first book, Take a Chance on Me, there are musical references specific to Chance & Nia. Occasionally there would be a place in that story where I’d try to slip in an allusion to a particular song, but it just didn’t work for those main characters. I needed to find ones that really fit each of them. (On my website, I include referenced songs on the book pages for each individual novel. This is the page for You Give Love a Bad Name—just scroll to the bottom and you can see many of the songs that are included in the story: http://www.marilynbrant.com/books/the-mirabelle-harbor-series/you-give-love-a-bad-name/)

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Marilyn kindly brings with her 2 LOVELY ebooks (winner’s choice – mobi, epub, pdf) of Take a Chance on Me (Mirabelle Harbor Book 1) for me to randomly give away to TWO lucky readers.

To enter this giveaway leave a comment, a question, or some love for Marilyn!!

• This giveaway is open worldwide.  Thank you, Marilyn!
• This giveaway ends March 21st!