What’s the latest book you stayed up all night reading under the covers?
I started writing because of my love of reading, so, it’s pretty tragic that I don’t get much opportunity to read these days. But I have many memories from my youth where I snuck in “just one more chapter.” Deenie. Sweet Valley High. Catcher in the Rye. How could I go to sleep when the fate of a fictional character was hanging in the balance?
Over the past few years, it’s been a rare occasion when a book managed to suck me in to the point of losing my prized sleep. But it has happened. A few months ago, it was Shay Ray Stevens’ “The Me You See.” Soon after that, it was “The Bronze Horseman.” And just to highlight my eclectic taste, I’ll also add that I couldn’t put Kendall Grey’s “Strings” down to save my life.
I love that feeling of fighting to keep my eyes open, just beating the clock in order to finish a captivating book. Then again, it’s always a great treat to wake up the next morning and realize I still have a few chapters left. Hooray! It’s not over yet!
God, I really miss it!
Livia Chadwick is a photographer by day and a self-proclaimed rock slut by night.
Her dating life is a lackluster parade of evasive jerks and her boss is an unrelenting nightmare of a human being. What else can a girl do but rent a beach house with her girlfriends and blow off a little steam every weekend? But hey, she’s from Jersey. Barhopping down the shore all season is sort of mandatory. All is going according to plan… until she meets Jack.
Jack Tanner is a contractor-turned-musician in a small-town cover band suddenly thrust into the limelight. He’s already had enough of the rock-and-roll lifestyle, and groupies have never been his thing. Then again… there’s a gorgeous brunette in the audience tonight, checking him out with the most incredible green eyes he’s ever seen.
She’s looking for a fling.
He’s looking for forever.
It’s gonna be one helluva summer.
Set in the summer of 1995, Down the Shore takes the reader on a tour through some of the Jersey shore’s hottest hot spots over one, sleepless, flannel-clad summer. It’s a look back to a time when the music was groundbreaking, the rock clubs were king, and bar bands ruled the world. Read when you’re in the mood for: something light, funny, romantic, beachy, and nostalgic. For ages 18+.
***Not recommended for anyone under the age of 18, and/or any readers who are slut-shamers, guido sympathizers, beach haters or anti-music. Other people who should walk away from this book immediately: Readers who have sticks up their butts regarding offensive language, those who don’t like detailed sex in their stories, idiots who think “Jersey Shore” has anything to do with actual New Jerseyans, and anyone who can’t appreciate pop-culture from the mother-effing nineties.***
I give a peek back outside and finally see Jack pulling into the driveway. ‘Bout frigging time.
My stomach does a quick flip when he knocks, and I can’t stop myself from sprinting for the door. I open it, busting his chops when I say, “You’re late.”
Jack is standing there, sporting a sheepish grin and looking delicious as usual. But suddenly, his smile fades. “What the heck are you wearing?”
He’d told me to dress casual, so I went with one of my standard uniforms: Black miniskirt, black Docs, and a lightweight flannel that I’m wearing unbuttoned over a tight-fitting concert tee. But his facial expression is suggesting I missed the mark, and I look down at my chest, feeling tacky. Not that I’d ever let him know it.
“What, this?” I defend. “It’s my Van Halen T-shirt.”
“Livia,” he sighs. “That is not a Van Halen T-shirt. That is a Van Hagar T-shirt. If anyone could make it look good, it would be you, but please, I’m begging you. Take it off.”
Ah. The outfit isn’t the problem, just my choice of band. His exasperation and complete music snobbery brings a smile to my face. Temperamental rock star. Yeesh.
“Right here?” I tease. “Because I should warn you, I’m wearing a matching Van Halen bra underneath this thing,” I laugh as I head off to my bedroom to go change.
I get about five steps away before turning just enough to see his lip curl and his eyebrows rise. “Prove it.”
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