It’s wonderful to introduce a new author to my blog – JD Martins. He has written a new adult romance in Tirgearr’s City Nights series, which my good friend, Jaz Hartfield also contributed to with his own One Night in Amsterdam. Please click on the links at the end to buy JD’s book, One Night in Madrid, or on the logo below for more information on the entire series. Each book in the series is a stand-alone story.
CITY NIGHTS books
Let’s hear now from JD Martins himself…
Which romantic themes are explored in One Night in Madrid?
I wanted to explore the idea of getting second chances at finding someone – or at least to try to woo them – and the notion of how our ignorance as young men and women (but men especially, I suspect!) can create prejudices inside us that influence our opinions of potential partners years after we first meet them, and impede our ability to actually get to know them.
What is the main character’s dilemma?
As a teen in college, Danny fantasized about a classmate Aisling, but she never gave him the time of day. He has long since dismissed her as a snob. When she turns up in a bar in Madrid where he now lives, he hopes to finally seduce her and at the same time prove to her that he would have been worthy of her attention back then.
Why is the setting so important?
The characters meet out of their normal context, and in such situations people often act differently to how they might have if they met in their former haunts. Danny and Aisling are able to start anew in some respect, because of that, and actually have a conversation for the first time. Danny knows Madrid well after living there for a couple of years, while Aisling is just a visitor, and so she’s got an extra incentive to stick with him for the night. The fact that bars and clubs are open all night long in Madrid gives them the time get to know one another before they have to part again.
Is writing adult romance difficult or fun?
It’s fun until you get to writing the sex scenes! That part was difficult for me. It’s funny for a few seconds when you realize that your characters are not the kind of people who go in for plain vanilla sex, and you bang your head against the desk because now you’ll have to write more adventurous scenes for them.
I’ve heard some say that it’s easy to distinguish a male and female writer of erotica, because the woman will put in 80-90% emotion and 10-20% physical. So it stands to reason that in general readers of the same gender will want to read that proportion. Since it’s also generally true that women make up 80-90% of erotica readers, my challenge as a male writer is to put that extra 50% in that I wouldn’t normally think necessary. The other major difficulty is avoiding repetition when basically describing something so common and quotidian in such great detail. Everyone already knows what happens during sex (at least the vanilla kind). That’s really hard. It’s similar to writing poetry rather than prose in that sense: always looking for new ways of saying the same thing. And it took me as long to write 25k of prose, as it would have 25k of poetry.
Why write this particular book?
This is my first erotic story, and I did this because I heard about the City Nights Series that Tirgearr were producing and I decided to try my hand at it. It was the first time I’d written anything for a specific reason other than just for my own pleasure. I used to live in Madrid back in the day. I spent my fair share of time in bars there. I had written a short story about looking for people you know when you go to bars, and if you were in a place where nobody knew you, whether meeting someone from your former life would be a good thing or not. I decided to turn my story into an erotic romance, taking the story a few paces further along from where it had originally trodden and developing the characters a bit more.
Can you tell us about your current work in progress?
I have submitted a synopsis of a novella set in Pamplona – another town I’ve lived in – and have been asked to submit the rest of the story, which I am editing at the moment. I also have a story set in Boston bubbling in the back of my mind that I hope to get to as soon as I have finished editing this draft of One Night in Pamplona.
Good marketing tips for other authors?
I wish I did. I’m just finding my feet in all this myself. I think that for erotic romance, websites and blogs of well-known authors and pioneers of the field, which is still growing exponentially, are closely followed by readers waiting to get their hands on more stories. Until the genre becomes more mainstream, that’s one place to concentrate promotion, perhaps.
Why should people read the City Nights Series?
The concept is brilliant in its simplicity: a new city, with a new slant every time. As a reader, you know you’re going to get a great story with a new setting, a different atmosphere and ambience every time. As many different writers are contributing to the series the perspectives are even wider. Yet, you know you can expect an interesting story, with hot scenes and a satisfying ending in every city.
One Night in Madrid Blurb:
Danny left Dublin for Madrid two years ago, but still scans the crowd in the Irish pubs for the face of someone from home. Though doubtful he’ll ever recognise anybody, one evening he sees Aisling, a girl he’d known – or wished he’d known – at university. Beautiful but haughty, she’d always ignored Danny, and though he’d fantasised about making love to her, she’d never so much as smiled at him.
To his amazement, Aisling is extremely friendly when she meets him all these years later and away from home. She is still snobby and condescending, but Danny decides to make her night as enjoyable as he can, hoping for one last chance to impress her and make his teenage fantasies come true. As the sultry Madrid night progresses, mere lust grows into affection, and Danny begins to see her snobbery as something else entirely. Will Aisling see Danny as more than just a way to pass her night in Madrid?
Excerpt (suitable for all readers):
Draining the glass, Danny placed it on the bar, debating whether to have another pint, or stroll home and have a glass of wine while he prepared dinner. The plan was just one pint, but he needed to tell himself that twice; once when he went into the bar and again when he’d finished the drink.
And then he saw her.
She stood quite near, surrounded by a tight knot of people at the edge of the dance floor that had parted momentarily. She wore a cotton summer dress that showed the sweep of her shoulder blades and spine. The dress was floral, red with splashes of black and dark blue. She wore soft brown leather sandals that were almost invisible against her tanned feet. Her toenails were painted red but her fingernails were French polished. A silver or white-gold bracelet hung from her right wrist, and on her left she wore a silver wristwatch, which a discreet look later told him was a Patek Philippe. In her ears she had diamond stud earrings, and on the ring finger of her right hand was a silver ring with a blue stone he couldn’t identify.
He didn’t see her face straight away, yet something deep inside him said it had to be her.
In college, he’d often stared at this girl’s long blonde hair from a few seats behind in the lecture theatre, while far below them a maths professor droned on about matrices. He knew the shape of her head and neck, had observed her tie up that hair, amazed at the beauty of the fine, straight filaments, the way the strands slid like silk over one another, yet held as one tight rope. When she was an infant her mother had clearly decided ever cutting such hair would be a sin, and she’d concurred. She plaited it, put it in a ponytail, tied it up around a clip made of what seemed to Danny like a piece of wood and two chopsticks, or simply a spare pencil. Sometimes it splayed out across her shoulders like a cascade of spun gold. Now it was pulled up in a silver clasp, to reveal the nape of a long, fine neck, and soft-skinned shoulders.
Those shoulders had been bared before, in a hot September of their freshman year, and later, during the intense study month when the cherry blossoms bloomed and fell across the lawns of campus. Danny had fantasised about slipping off that shoulder strap, letting the silky string fall down along her arm, trailing his fingers along her collarbone and ribs and pushing aside the top to expose her breasts.
When she turned around in the bar and he saw her face, Danny instantly searched through his memory to match her visage, and see all six numbers of recognition. It came out a winner. She stared back at him, her brain no doubt doing the same. Although still early, and most—apart from the pre-marriage revellers—were only on their second or third drink, Danny thought she must have been fairly merry already, because as she recognised him she smiled.
She’d never smiled at him before—not in four years of college. Then again, they’d not interacted much. They’d never really talked, never attended the same classes after second year. He’d always told himself she’d never smiled at him because she didn’t know him. Once or twice, of course, she’d turned around, casually, and seen him. But she’d seen lots of others sitting behind her, too. The back rows of the lecture theatre were filled with Danny’s friends, who’d varying levels of interest in her hair and the maths lecture; from zero to all-absorbed.
The chance to get to know her had never come around. She’d majored in chemistry, Danny in computer science. He had taken a chemistry class in second year, but she’d always seemed to sit on the opposite side of the theatre then. His gaze had often paused upon her face as he searched through those assembled in a lecture the way he did through the throng of a bar.
She was stunning. Her frame was that of someone who was fit without effort. A swimmer or a gymnast at some point, she had a fine body, breasts the way Hemingway described, wide womanly hips and a behind that eyes or hands could never tire of. She had crystal blue eyes like deep Antarctic ice, and a button nose. Her mouth was perfect. Her teeth had had money spent on them, but her lips were natural; she had a dazzling smile. But before that moment in a Madrid bar, Danny had only received the coldness of those glacial eyes.
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/JDMartinsauthor
Author page on Tirgearr Publishing: http://tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Martins_JD/index.htm
Purchase links for all formats:
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00RY328RY
Click on this cover to purchase Jaz Hartfield’s One Night in Amsterdam: