BROOKE E. WAYNE, author of Whine with Cheese

 

Interview Questions:

What genre do you consider your book(s)?

I write ‘Contemporary Romance with a Kiss of Humor’ aka Romantic Comedy. While romance novels tend to evoke lots of page-turning swoon and images of severed-headed, naked torsos (see 99% of all romance novel covers), I actually endeavored to write a sexy book without any actual super-descriptive sex in it. Oh, it’s swoony, but it’s not get-my-butt-fired swoony. I like my day job. (Teacher, eep.)

What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

I’m one of those weirdo writers who like it quiet when I write. I even keep a pair of earplugs tucked away in the sleeve of my binder if the sound of me pecking away at my keyboard starts to drive me nuts. If I need music to wrap my emotions around a scene, I’ll listen to a song first, then go into silent mode and write. Another quirk … the binder. I dive into novel writing with an organized mess. I load a binder up with a synopsis, detailed chapter outlines, locations, including diagrams of rooms, characters descriptions, random-middle-of-the-night-gotta-write-it-down-scenes, context norms, resources, you name it. I also keep Pinterest boards for each book I write then make each board public when a particular book goes live. Pantser? You betcha.

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

One of the characters in Whine with Cheese goes into a rant about true love that struck me as pretty profound once I stepped back from my writing and tried to figure out what he was really talking about. I suppose you could call it his message. It eventually became his anthem and a plot-point for my next book that revolves around his journey.
His loaded question that inspires the heroine of Whine with Cheese, Maxine Novaline, to take a deeper look in her heart: “…Wouldn’t it make more sense to fall in love with someone because you truly loved everything about that person, not just how he made you feel, if it was authentic love?” Writing romance is tricky. Insta-love isn’t real. It also makes for a boring plot. Everyone has a different reason for falling in love with someone, even imaginary people. His point is, love the person for who that person is not for that person’s mad skills in making you feel something. Warm fuzzies-induced infatuation, sure. Bring it. True love, not so much.

Are experiences in the novel based on someone you know, or events in your own life?

Whine with Cheese is the product of my wild imagination running all over the place, but I did seed it with snapshots of my trip to Europe with one of my college besties when we were twenty-five. A particular hotel in Paris is spot-on from our own journey. The main character, Maxine Novaline, and her best friend, Blanca Grazia, are like those good vs. evil angels you see parked on someone’s shoulder.

What are your current projects?

I wrote Love the Wine You’re With, (Vineyard Pleasures Series, Book 2), this past summer and have been polishing it with the help of my beta readers. I will release it November 1st. It’s a stand-alone spin-off of Whine with Cheese, picking up where Max’s story ends and starting Blanca Grazia on her own adventure. While the story taps into all the seasons, it’s heavy on Christmastime and will be marketed as a holiday book. I’ve also been gathering my “binder materials” for two five-book series. Those ten books started taking shape over the last year. I’m going to jump on the first book, Barista by Day, in November for NaNoWriMo and have to ready to roll out by February. Yes, it’s true. I’m a huuuuge planner.

What is your favorite motivational phrase or positive saying?

Yoda’s “Do or do not. There is no try.” That’s some sweeeet advice right there.

Novel Excerpts: BROOKE E. WAYNE, author of Whine with Cheese

(Excerpt 1)

Max
She couldn’t tell if she was nervous or excited. The sensations felt the same. Her heart raced, her stomach tingled, and her unabashed thoughts ran wild.
I’m not a rebound kind of girl. I’m just not. Right?
Chase pulled up on a vintage Honda CB 750 motorcycle, kicking up gravel and brandishing a huge smile. Max tried to avoid staring at his sculptured chest defined by his tight, black t-shirt, as a tinge of guilt rose up in her unexpectedly.
I have every right to spend the day with this guy. I’m single now, and we’re just wine tasting.
But the instinctive habit of loyalty to Bart flared up in her like acid indigestion.
“Good morning, beautiful. Let’s get this day started. I’ve got bread baking in the oven. Hop on.”
Again with the beautiful? He actually thinks I’m beautiful.
“You bake?”
“I do.”
Oh, good lord.
Max’s giddiness curled the corners of his lips as he handed her a helmet and tilted the bike to the side. She slung her leg over and perched herself above him, looping her long purse strap across her back and fastening the helmet onto her head as a shock of exhilaration rose up in her at the thought that he was already between her thighs.
She had never experienced such hospitality before from a man—a gorgeous, bread-baking, sensitive, ponytail-wearing kind of man—and it rallied her nerves with feelings of unworthiness.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing.”
It’s just wine tasting. Tasting … wine. That’s all.
She slipped her hands around his waist, reeling from the feel of his ripped abs against her palms. She even leaned in to breathe in the skin on the back of his neck. Her eyes rolled back in her head for a split second as she resisted the urge to plant a kiss on the exposed patch of skin behind his ear.

(Excerpt 2)

Chase
“You have to go one day. Perhaps, I will take you, so you won’t have to be alone, although, I have no doubt you’d find several lovers awaiting your company.” He winked at her. “I have spent more time in France than in America—all of my summers growing up, even most of my twenties. My older brothers and I used to call my uncle papa half the time as kids. Our parents wanted our roots to be grounded in our French blood. I am American born, but my heart is in France. I just got back from Champagne a couple weeks ago. I was there celebrating Bastille Day with my cousin. I go as often as I can.”
“I envy your life. Your family has such an interesting legacy. So you’re not in your twenties anymore?”
“I’m twenty-eight. And, if I had to guess, I’d say you were barely twenty-one.”
“I’m actually twenty-five going on twelve,” she smirked. “At least when it comes to worldly experiences, I’m still just a babe.”
“Yes, you are.”
She burst out into laughter.
Oh, so you don’t mind the compliments after all.
He lifted his Mimosa in a toast. “Here’s to the best of intentions.” A mischievous smile spread across his face as he reached over and tapped his glass to hers then took a sip.
“And the unintentional ones, too.” She finished her Mimosa in one swallow.
He glanced at the lipstick print on the rim of her flute then met her eyes. “I have every intention with you.”

(Excerpt 3)

Max
“You say fat, but I only see gorgeous curves. You are so beautiful to me just the way you are. You know who you remind me of? You’re like one of those curvaceous, French, cancan girls in the 1930s. My grand-mère and her maman danced at the Moulin Rouge in their day. You remind me of them—a real Montmartre Cabaret doll buried in ruffles with your little waist and your voluptuous breasts spilling out over a laced-up corset. You’re like poetry in motion—a burlesque fantasy come to life. One glimpse of your pantaloons, and any man would go weak in the knees.”
“My pantaloons, huh? Just how much wine did you have when I was blindfolded?” She laughed off her embarrassment.
“Probably too much, but, seriously though, he used to sneak into Cabaret shows in the 1930s when he was a young boy. ‘They had it right a long time ago,’ he would say. ‘Sensuality comes in the way a woman carries herself.’ I love the way you are so feminine. The moment I saw you in your billowy, white dress, I was like, ‘Now that’s a real woman.’ My grand-pére would approve.”
“Billowy?”
The Triple-B’s have got to go, no matter what you say, before I add Billowy to the list!
His hands dropped from her face and gripped her shoulders. “I forbid you to sacrifice food in search of an ideal you think you need to embody. I admit I’m a bit obsessed with fitness, but that’s me. That’s who I am. If you wanted to get in shape I could give you some pointers, but if you melt away any of that delicious flesh on your bones, I’d probably start sending you tubs of Nutella around the clock.”
“Uhm, okay. I’ll just do as you command. I’m getting pretty good at it,” she joked.
“I hope I haven’t come off too pushy today.” He let one of his hands fall on her thigh as he took a bite of another cookie.
“Some people need direction. You haven’t done anything to overstep your boundaries with me, except maybe feed me too many carbs.”
“Good.” He laughed as he darted at her within inches of her face.
A moment of silence fell between them as they looked into each other’s eyes, both desiring another kiss. She focused on his mouth, measuring the amount of distance between her lips and his, wondering if she were to give into the space and let him taste her again, if it would lead to another impending panic attack about her girth.
“So, Tuesday, you said you want me to come again?”
“Yes. Monday, I am swamped, but Tuesday afternoon is open. I need to see you again. I’ll plan a perfect date for us.”
“I would love that.”
Two days, twenty pounds? Impossible.