Heather Thurmeier stops by to talk the inspiration behind The Wedding Hoax - #Giveaway
What inspired this book? A simple question but not always a simple answer.
Inspiration comes from many places. That’s why an author can be asked this question for every book and can always give you a different answer. Inspiration can come from anywhere at any time: something you hear, see, smell, taste or touch can spark an idea for a scene, character or situation. Those little tidbits of information are commonly referred to as plot bunnies by writers.
The plot bunny for The Wedding Hoax came from determination, hard work, and a little coincidence. Normally I have an idea just kind of hit me, and that’s what I plot out to write next. With this book, I wanted to write with a specific publisher in mind and I wanted to write something I really thought they love enough to buy. So I got to work brain-storming, then would send ideas off to my agent to get her opinion. Weeks of this went by before I finally got an inkling of an idea brewing… my plot bunny.
From then on, my focus shifted from coming up with new ideas to molding this idea into the right story. I asked myself a bunch of questions about the characters: What if Daisy was a designer? Maybe a wedding gown designer who needs money to save her business. But why does she need the money so badly? What if she has a mother with large homecare bills? Who is my hero? What if an investment deal comes in but there’s a catch? What if that catch was her ex-boyfriend and a fake-engagement?
Soon my plot bunny had grown to a full-sized plot rabbit! After that, it was just getting all the ideas down on the page and starting to write. And it was so fun to write this book! I’m thrilled with how Cole and Daisy’s story turned out in The Wedding Hoax. I hope you’ll check it out!
The Wedding Hoax by Heather Thurmeier
A satisfying category romance from Entangled’s Lovestruck imprint…
To save their companies, they’ll plan the fake wedding of the century...
Meet the bride...
Daisy Willows is a wedding dress designer who longs for her own happily-ever-after. In the meantime, she’s struggling to keep her business going even as she covers her mom’s increasing medical expenses. So when a bridal show expo owner offers to help her out, she can hardly say no. And all it takes is Daisy pretending she’s back with her playboy ex. And that they’re engaged...
Meet the groom...
Cole Benton works for his father’s bridal magazine, which is on the verge of downsizing. All he really wants is a crack at an outdoor lifestyle magazine, and if he has to fake-marry Daisy to make it happen, he’s definitely in. Now Daisy and Cole are playing up their fake engagement, shopping for rings, and even kissing upon request. All of which is makes it a whole lot harder to remember that their big white wedding is a big white lie...
Cole adjusted himself in the boutique chair as Daisy came out in yet another stunning dress. He didn’t think it was possible to be attracted to a woman in a wedding gown, but apparently it was.
And it was maddening.
Damn it. He didn’t want to be any more attracted to Daisy than he already was. At this point, he wanted her to walk down the aisle in a white garbage bag so he didn’t have to see the shape of her curves, teasing him about what he couldn’t have but also couldn’t stop thinking about.
Nor could he stop imagining those undergarments she’d mentioned to the women at the bridal show. Was Daisy wearing something sexy under all that white lace and satin, too? A push-up bra? A thong?
He sat forward and leaned his elbows on his knees, ignoring the ache in his groin at the thought of Daisy in a thong. He didn’t even have to use his imagination. An image
of her lying on her stomach across his bed came to mind. Her skin had been smooth under his fingertips as he traced the lace of her thong to where it disappeared between two luscious hills of milky-white flesh. She’d shivered beneath his touch when he’d caressed the tiny crease where her bottom met the backs of her thighs. And when he’d playfully smacked her ass, the apples of her cheeks weren’t the only spot on her body to blush as she’d rolled away from him, giggling and smiling seductively.
If he’d realized that would be one of his last moments with Daisy, he would have savored it more, prolonged his own enjoyment to push hers further. What he wouldn’t give to see that spark in her eyes when she was on the cusp of going over the edge again. Or the pink tinge in her cheeks as his tongue tasted her.
“Cole!” Daisy’s voice was sharp, piercing his thoughts and shattering the nice memory he was currently enjoying more than the present moment.
“That one is nice,” Cole said on instinct, forcing himself to focus on the dress she wore instead of what she might be wearing underneath it. This dress was similar to the others— sleeveless, white, satin and beads, and expertly hand-stitched. He’d never really given Daisy a lot of credit for her work before, but he should have. She was a master of her craft.
She put her hands on her hips. “That’s what you said about every dress so far. Are you even paying attention?”
“I’m trying to, but you know how I feel about shopping.” He laid his head back and rubbed his eyes hard, hoping to erase the memory of Daisy’s thong from his brain long enough to get through this torture without a raging hard-on.
“How could I forget? You’re worse than taking a child shopping. At least with a kid you can give them a snack or a toy to keep them busy.”
“I could go for a snack.” He shrugged.
Heather Thurmeier is a lover of strawberry margaritas and a hater of spiders. She was born and raised in the Canadian prairies, but now lives in New York state with her husband and kids where she’s become some kind of odd Canuck-Yankee hybrid. When she's not busy taking care of the kids, Heather’s writing her next romance, which will probably be filled with sassy heroines, sexy heroes who make your heart pound, laugh out loud moments, and always a happily ever after. You can find out more about Heather and her books by checking out her website at: http://heatherthurmeier.com.
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