My guest today is Award Winning Author, Amie Louellen. Amie is one of my online friends full of energy, laugher and kind-heartedness—with creativity out the wha-zoo. She loves nothing more than a good book. Except for her family…and maybe homemade tacos…and shoes. But reading and writing are definitely high on the list.
Fun and contemporary, whimsical and sexy, Amie’s novels are true love stories with a guaranteed happy ending.
Born and bred in Mississippi, Amie is a transplanted Southern Belle who now lives in Oklahoma with her deputy husband, their genius son, a spoiled cat, and one very hyper beagle.
When she's not creating quirky characters and happy endings, she’s chauffeuring her prodigy to little league baseball games, guitar lessons, and boy scout meetings. She also loves gardening, cross stitching, and generally anything that can get her out of housework.
Thanks for having me as a guest today, Vonnie.
I have one word to tell you how excited I was when the Wild Rose Press sent out the submission calls for the Millionaire’s Club—very! But seriously, how could I not send in a submission—read why:
Champagne and Caviar. Rich and sexy. He’s the reformed playboy, the corporate raider or the self-made man. He comes from old money or new money. These stories are about rich and powerful men. He’s determined and has the means to get what he wants. The woman he falls in love with usually doesn’t have money, but she does have power in this relationship. However, he’ll have to shower her with more than the gifts money can buy. He’ll have to earn her love. And he’ll have to show her his love is the most valuable possession he can give her.
Sound a little retro? Here’s why. The Millionaire’s Club, this fabulous new line from the Wild Rose Press is a little retro, the 90s hero revisited.
What’s so great about 90s romance heroes you ask? Hmmm… a lot. They are handsome, self-assured, and rich. But the best part of all is they’re clueless as to what’s really important in life—love. And finding a good woman to share that life with. She may be just an average girl, but she’s wise beyond her financial burdens. To put it simply, he thinks he knows everything, and she proves to him that he doesn’t.
I’ve been writing longer than I care to admit. So I’ve had the opportunity to see how the heroes have developed over the years. How the heroes of today morphed out of the heroes of yesteryear. But if you weren’t writing romances in the 90s or even reading them, then let me tell you why Brice Van Sant, hero in Love Potion Me, Baby, qualifies for this distinction. He’s handsome to a fault, urbane, and committed—to his company, Johnston-Carmichael Pharmaceuticals. Oh, and to his mother, who shall we say is a little unusual. And then there’s his staff--the gigolo gardener and his speaks-only-one-word-of-English maid. So what’s a no-excuses, ruthless business man doing with a staff household like his? Well, maybe he’s not so tough after all.
Tough points go out to Suzanne Rose, victim of the love potion even more so than Brice. Suzanne is proposed to, swept off her feet, and then forgotten the next day. She’s strong-armed into reproducing the love potion’s formula in order to save her sister’s job and has to pretend to be happily married to man she wishes she was happily married to. But she’s a good girl, average Jolene, unemployed chemistry teacher, and she’s fiercely loyal to her family.
And the lure of these types of romances? If a sweetheart like Suzanne can capture the calloused heart of a man like Brice, then there’s hope for every girl. Call it a fairy tale, call it an old fashioned romance, or just call it a great story. But the hope is still there, and every reader knows that love conquers all—money, hurt, and the against-all-odds obstacles that stand in their way. What could be greater than that?
Suzanne Rose never intended for Brice Van Sant to drink a cup of her homemade herbal shampoo. And she certainly didn’t expect an impromptu marriage proposal from the hunky CEO.
After an incredible wedding night, Brice wakes unable to remember his bride’s name or why he proposed.
Too late they realize the bright blue shampoo is responsible. Almost like...a love potion!
Brice doesn’t believe in love. But as chief executive of the area’s largest pharmaceutical company, he needs that formula. He strong-arms Suzanne into reproducing it for him, demanding that she pretend they are happily married until it’s recovered.
As Suzanne struggles to remember the shampoo’s ingredients and forget their perfect wedding night, she finds herself falling for her husband. Can she convince Brice that love is a chance worth taking before she loses her heart to him forever?
She smiled, and Brice felt the warmth go straight through him. She had a home-town, girl-next-door look that somehow made a man forget things he was better off remembering. Like the promises Brice had made to himself when his father left. Like the fact that if he made love to Suzanne again it would be disastrous for everyone involved.
Let her go, his internal voice commanded.
Brice’s legs started to move, his feet taking step after step until he reached her side.
“I had fun,” she replied.
Tell her goodnight. And walk away.
“You’re a natural,” he said instead. “You should play more often.”
“Maybe I will.”
He could see questions in her eyes, questions he didn’t want to answer.
Without permission from his brain, his hand reached up and loosened the towel covering her hair. Damp, copper-colored curls, sprang free from their confinement and bounced across his fingers. “Maybe you will,” he repeated.
Turn away. And whatever you do, don’t kiss her.
“Tell me to stop,” Brice demanded in a husky whisper as his head lowered closer and closer toward her luscious mouth. “Tell me.”
“I can’t,” she said and raised her lips to meet his.
Brice could no more prevent the kiss than he could re-route the sun. The caress was destiny or fate or serendipity. Kismet. It was out of his control. Never before had anything taken such complete command of his mind and body. Nothing except for a cup of blue shampoo and its redheaded maker who haunted his every waking moment.
Amie is a member of RWA and an award winning author. You can reach her at firstname.lastname@example.org.
www.amielouellen.com website & blog