News from Suz Brockmannwww.SuzanneBrockmann.com@SuzBrockmann (on Twitter)July 13, 2021
BODY LANGUAGE (Hah!) is on e-sale for $2.99! I always hear the title of this romance novel in Ursala's voice, you know, from The Little Mermaid.
"And don't underestimate the importance of BODY LANGUAGE -- HAH!"
Hear it here, on YouTube: https://youtu.be/_jWWsYfvZy4 (In this video, Ursula's line is on a loop that plays for ten minutes!! Really!!)Anyway, Ursula's voice is in my head, probably because back when I wrote Body Language (Hah!), in the late 1990s, I'd heard the soundtrack from The Little Mermaid some tens of thousands of times. (Willingly! Eagerly! It was our go-to music for car rides when my kids were kids, including the soaring and delightfully whimsical orchestral scores.)
Here are the deets for Body Language (Hah!), which is on e-sale for $2.99 right now!HERO: Clint McCade, cinematographerHEROINE: Cassandra “Sandy” Kirk, owner of Video EnterprisesLOCATION: Phoenix, ArizonaFirst Published 1998 Tropes: Motorcycle-riding hero;Friends to lovers; Pygmalion-esque makeover;Fake boyfriend;"Oh, no! Just one bed !!" Oh, and here's another fun (and very, very specific) trope: heroes who call the heroine by their last name. (I'm a sucker for that!)So, SO many romance tropes in this one little book !! And oh my God! In Body Language (Hah!) (You can only hear it in Ursala's voice now, too, right?), the Star Trek references are right there!RIGHT !! THERE !!Sandy KIRK, who owns a production company called Video ENTERPRISES...?!??!!!!1998 writer-me definitely decided to not be subtle with THAT one, huh?This is a really fun book--out of all my 1990's era contemporary category romances originally published by Bantam's Loveswept line (this was back before ebooks, people, when these puppies were initially released in print only!!), Body Language (Hah!) holds a special place in my heart.Sandy Kirk and Clint McCade have been friends for years. They met when they were quite young--two misfit, hardscrabble kids from the proverbial "wrong side of the tracks," who stuck together from grade school through graduation. They both started out with nothing, and have built themselves impressive careers--McCade as a widely-travelled freelance cinematographer, and Sandy as the owner of a small video production house in Phoenix, Arizona. They're both successful, but they also both lead very solitary and lonely lives.The story starts as McCade blasts back into town and into Sandy's busy life. She's just gotten a big job to create video footage for a local man who's running for office, and she's working pretty much 24/7. But, hey! McCade's got mad skillz, so she immediately hires him onto the project as a camera operator.And oh, he'll just camp out on her couch for the few weeks that he'll be in town. No problem, right? (Body language, HAH!)While writing this book, I got to do a deep research dive into body language, which I find fascinating! It was fun to use what I'd learned as McCade gives Sandy a complete make-over in order to win the heart of James Vandenberg, a wealthy attorney who'd recently caught her eye.Here's an excerpt--and I particularly love this scene because as it starts, McCade is essentially undressing in front of Sandy. They've just gotten home from some work-event, and he's shedding his tux as quickly as he can. But Sandy's so used to seeing him as just a friend, she pretty much doesn't notice.Until she does...
Sandy threw her keys onto the coffee table, and herself onto the couch.
“Wow, that was incredibly not fun,” she said into the soft cushions. “James Vandenberg obviously finds me about as appealing as flat beer.”
“Could be worse,” McCade volunteered, shrugging out of his jacket and sitting down in the rocking chair across from her. “He could find you about as appealing as warm flat beer.”
She lifted her head to look at him. “Cheer me up, why don’t you, McCade?”
He unfastened his bow tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. “What do you know about body language?”
“Not much.”
“Hmm.”
Sandy sat up. “And just what is hmm supposed to mean?”
“Whenever I saw you talking to James, you were giving him 'go away' signals with your body.” McCade unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt. “You crossed your arms and you stood with your legs tightly together. Your posture and your stance read 'don’t touch' loud and clear.”
“I wasn’t doing it intentionally—”
McCade yanked his shirt free from his pants and shrugged it off. “That’s the deal with body language. Most of the time it’s done unconsciously. Somewhere down the line you’ve forgotten your female courting techniques.”
Sandy shifted in her seat, crossing her arms. “This is all news to me. How could I have forgotten something that I was never told?”
“Defensive posture.” McCade pointed to her crossed arms before he pulled off his boots. “You just told me with your body that you don’t like what you’re hearing, and you’re not going to listen to me.”
“And exactly which issue of Playboy did you read this in, McCade?” Sandy asked, her arms still firmly crossed.
“Look—” McCade sat next to her on the couch “—I’m going to hit you with some male courting techniques, and if you can honestly say that you still think it’s a load of garbage after that, then I’ll shut up, all right?”
Wearing only a sleeveless undershirt with his tuxedo pants, he looked like the McCade she knew in high school. He sat comfortably at one end of the couch, facing her, his right leg bent at the knee and angled across the cushion in front of him. He raked his fingers through his short hair, making it look perfectly tousled and very sexy.
Sandy lowered her gaze and shrugged. “Fire away.”
“First of all, don’t sit like that,” he said. He pulled her so that she faced him, lifting her left arm up so that it lay along the back of the couch. He dropped her right hand into her lap. With their knees almost touching, he leaned, then inched forward slightly.
“Step one: Invade the woman’s personal space. Step two: Direct eye contact.” He smiled into her eyes.
Sandy smiled back. “This is silly—”
“I’m not finished,” he interrupted. “Without saying a word, a man can let a woman know quite clearly that he’s interested in her. Sexually interested.”
McCade let his eyes drop, focusing for a moment on her lips, then traveling even lower, lingering on the low neckline of her dress. Sandy felt the urge to giggle, but by the time he’d slowly dragged his gaze back to her eyes, her mouth was dry and that urge was long gone.
“That’s step number three,” he told her. “And if by now the woman hasn’t run away or threatened physical harm, a man might try step four—a nonsexual touching gesture, something harmless like a handshake…”
He lifted her hand, drawing her fingers into his.
“…but he’d turn that handshake into a caress.” He ran his thumb lightly over the back of her hand. “This is not just a friendly touch—the message has clear sexual overtones.”
Sandy stared down at her hand as he continued that slight but oh-so-sensuous movement of his thumb. She looked up to find his eyes running down the length of her legs. He took his time before he met her gaze.
She could see heat in his eyes.
This was just a demonstration. He was putting on a show, giving an example. Carefully, she slipped free from his grasp.
“If the touching doesn’t work,” he continued, his husky voice soft, “or if the situation doesn’t allow for physical contact, there’s always surrogate touching.” He smiled, a quick flash of teeth. “I know, it sounds terrible, but it’s not.”
As Sandy watched, McCade used one finger to trace the floral pattern on the fabric that covered the couch. He looked up at her and smiled slightly. “It sends out a signal that says, I’d really rather be touching you.”
The small movement of his hand made the muscles in his shoulder and arm flex enticingly in the dim living-room light. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue and Sandy’s mouth went dry.
Here's the blurb from the book (multitude of tropes in bold!!):
Sandy Kirk could always count on her best friend, Clint McCade, to roar into town on his motorcycle in the middle of the night—to shake things up and make her laugh. His short visits brightened her successful, busy, but sometimes lonely life as the owner of a video production house, but this time she needs his help. She’s finally met the man of her dreams. James Vandenberg the Fourth is a successful, wealthy lawyer—and the first man Sandy’s ever met who doesn’t completely pale in comparison to McCade. But this time McCade has blown into town with a secret—he’s finally realized what’s missing in his life—and it’s Sandy. When she asks him to help her catch James’s eye and win his heart, McCade dies a little inside, but can’t refuse. Sandy’s happiness means the world to him, and James—with his old money pedigree—is everything that McCade is not. So McCade becomes Sandy’s motorcycle-riding, long-haired, leather-clad Henry Higgins as he gives her a make-over and teaches her the art of seduction through body language. But crossed signals and mixed messages soon have the old friends playing the part of lovers, and one thing quickly becomes clear: body language doesn’t lie. In this witty, sensual, and poignant tale, New York Times bestselling author Suzanne Brockmann explores destiny, deception, and that steamy tipping point between deep friendship and romantic love. Set in 1998, Body Language is a full length novel of 57K words originally published by Bantam Loveswept.
1998 writer-me also did more than grab the giant caldron of everyone's favorite romance tropes and scramble from one to the next like a follow-the-dots trail to a fun rom-com HEA!1998 writer-me was also continuing to push back on the 1990's strict rules of romance.
You've all heard the story of how, back in 1992, my first editor of my first romance novel refused to buy my book unless I made the very secondary character of the town sheriff straight instead of openly gay, right? (If not, you can check out that story here: https://www.tinyletter.com/SuzanneBrockmann/letters/that-rwa-lta-speech-news-from-suz Or if you prefer to watch the video on YouTube: https://youtu.be/T1fO_1rLDsA?t=3388 )I was also told, in that same conversation, that I couldn't use the word "penis" in my book.I recently found a piece I wrote back in 2013 that chronicles the Penis Incident in some detail:
“And—this one’s a big no-no—you can’t use the word penis.”
That was a surreal phone call. I was talking, for the first time, to my very first romance editor.
It was January, 1993, and I stood in my kitchen getting revision notes—and discussing exactly what words I could use for male genitalia—with a woman I’d just met. (“Hello, how are you? How nice to... What’s that...? Oh, you did just say penis. Yes, I’m taking notes...”)
My hero’s penis had made several solid (pun intended) appearances in the love scenes in this, my very first soon-to-be-published romance novel. But now I was being told—specifically, to my bemusement—that using its anatomically correct name anywhere in my book was forbidden. It was, at that time with that publisher, an unbreakable rule.
Whatever would I do, I remember wondering, if I wrote a book with a hero who was a urologist? “Tell me, Mr. Smith, about the burning sensation in your, ahem, member?” Okay. The chances of that scene actually showing up in a book was unlikely. Still, my mind raced. Surely there was a situation where the publisher would agree that using the word penis was appropriate and necessary. I silently flagged it as a potential edge to push.
(You can read the entire blog post here, https://www.readaromancemonth.com/2013/08/day-26-suzanne-brockmann-embracing-the-other/ )Fast-forward from 1993 to 1998, where I triumphantly managed to get this scene published in Body Language (Hah!):
Sandy slowly drank her own beer. “You never told me the third thing,” she said suddenly.
He frowned. “What third thing?”
“Your mother said there were three things men needed to learn in order to succeed. One was how to dance. Two was how to do research. What’s three?”
“When it comes to making love,” McCade said with a smile, “and I quote, ‘The size of a man’s heart is more important than the size of his penis.’”
Sandy blushed. “She did not say that. McCade, you’re so full of crap.”
McCade’s smile turned into a grin. “I swear, those are her exact words. I’m not even paraphrasing.”
“There’s no way your mom would ever have said the P-word. I refuse to believe that.”
“She also gave me a box of condoms every year for my birthday—starting when I was twelve.”
Sandy laughed. “No way!”
“She wanted me to get used to the idea of taking responsibility for birth control.”
Sandy could remember Mrs. McCade, a quiet, worn-out woman with fading brown hair and a shy smile. “I can’t believe it.”
“Yeah, well, people are full of surprises,” he told her. “What you see is not always what you get. And that’s the real lesson she taught me.”
McCade’s mother had died halfway through his senior year in high school.
“I still miss her,” Sandy said softly.
“Yeah,” he said. “I do too.”
"See...!?" you can almost hear 1998 writer-me shout. "Look! I did it! Penis! Penis! PENIS! I got the big no-no word PENIS past the editors!"Okay, yeah, it had been six years, but still. Penis was clearly on my mind!As was including LGBTQ people in my romance novels, despite being told that I couldn't.In the 1990s, I brought gay characters into my books as often as I could, sometimes even sneaking them into my little acres of Romancelandia, like Body Language’s Tony-the-hairdresser. Tony is a good friend of the hero, Clint McCabe. He fills the role of confident and mentor, giving McCabe sage advice. (Also? My message has always been: Romance heroes are far more desirable and sexy when they're inclusive and open and accepting!!) (As opposed to James, the man that McCabe is trying to help Sandy “catch.” James is an old-money, country-club conservative. In fact, right when we meet James, in Body Language (Hah!), he gives McCabe quite the stink-eye, simply because McCabe has long hair and a beard. James judges people on their appearance. #Nope. He’s not good enough for our heroine, Sandy.)One last note:In the beginning of Body Language (Hah!), our hero rolls onto the first few pages of the book dressed in black motorcycle leather, covered in mud, with long hair and a thick beard. He's like the absolute perfect 2021 romance hero, down to his many tattoos. But in 1998, the romance fantasy was all about the hero being clean-shaven, short-haired, and tuxedo-clad when necessary. (It was nearly always necessary at some point in the story!) So dutifully, 1998 writer-me went about cleaning up McCade. He shaves and gets a haircut, and even dresses in khakis and polo shirts (carefully covering up his tatts), and yes, he even wears a tux as he does his cameraman job--which involves lots of time spent at high-end fundraiser events.Fortunately, by the end of the book, McCade begins to look like his real self again, but wow, is it weird and funny to see that huge difference between 1998's and 2021's perception of the ideal romance hero!Here are the e-seller links to (say it with me now!) Body Language (Hah!), currently on e-sale for $2.99! Grab it while you can and dive into the delicious 1990s!Kindle: http://amzn.to/2xrB3GTKindle UK: http://amzn.to/2y0ByofNook: https://bit.ly/3AP0u2s Apple: http://apple.co/2y0I2ntKobo: http://bit.ly/2wSxngyGooglePlay: https://bit.ly/3yJILaOFind out more about Body Language (Hah!) at my website: https://suzannebrockmann.com/books/body-language/
That's all the news for now! Thank you for your time and attention! As always, please feel free to email, blog, post, tweet, and/or share any or all of my news with your social circle! I appreciate it when you do! Love and hugs and don't stop fighting for equality, equity, peace, hope, and love,