Grease Monkey Jive is a mash up between surfing and ballroom dancing that brings together a uni student and mechanic in surprising way. Its Pimp My Ride meets Strictly Ballroom.
It came about because I wanted to create a buddy story and then put those blokes in as unlikely a situation as possible. That’s where ballroom fits in. It was a lot of fun to write and I do love my male leads: Dan, Mitch, Fluke and Ant. In fact Ant is getting his own story because Rhian Cahill got into my ear about it.
Here is the blurb:
A romance about changing the game, finding the truth
and fancy footwork
She thought love was make-believe and
the last person to prove her wrong would be a player.
When ballroom teacher Alex Gibson danced with Dan Maddox she’s reminded of the time she stuck a knife in the toaster, gave herself an electric shock and saw stars. He’s precisely the type of man Alex’s mother warned her off – a player, like the father who abandoned her.
Dan Maddox comes from a long line of men who were hiding under the hood of a beat up old car when the ‘successful relationship’ gene was given out, but he was first in the queue for an extra jolt of chick pulling power.
The chicks in Dan’s life are universally gorgeous, random, disposable, and answer to the name Baby until one drunken night when he picks the wrong girl, hurts a good friend and realises that unless he does something to change, he’ll end up like his violent, unstable father.
It’s pimp my ride meets dancing with the stars as Alex and Dan come together to compete in a ballroom dancing competition that changes the way they both feel about relationships and love.
There were two men. One tall, one short. The tall one was handsome, the short one was a dead ringer for Ginger Megs. Both of them had their mouths open in surprise. Tourists. Clearly in the wrong place. Alex stepped forward to sort it out and Scott turned back to the class to continue.
When Alex got to the doorway another man had joined the first two. The third man looked like he’d walked off the set of a photo shoot, athletic, tanned skin, huge dark blue eyes, and a tangle of dark hair that fell over his forehead. He appeared to be the spokesperson and Alex wondered if he would sound as good as he looked. He looked outrageously gorgeous and, sadly, she figured he’d have an outrageous ego to match.
“Hi, I’m Alex Gibson. I’m a teacher here. Can I help you?”
“Hi. I’m Dan, this is Mitch and Fluke,” the gorgeous man said, gesturing to his mates in turn. His voice was warm and strong, like hot coffee when you needed a pick up.
“Fluke?” Alex turned to the redhead who said, “My name is Luke, but you can call me Fluke. Everyone else does.”
Alex smiled. They were tourists for sure, but they were interesting at least. She turned back to face gorgeous Dan. “So, why are you guys here?”
“We want to learn to dance.”
“You do know this is a ballroom dance school?”
“You want to learn ballroom dancing?”
Alex put her hands to her hips, “Seriously?”
“We’re serious, aren’t we boys?” said Dan. He knew Fluke was thinking two Gs and Mitch was thinking Belinda. He got a chorus of agreement, but the teacher just sighed. She was tapping her toe, her expression questioning. She was clearly impatient with them for some reason.
“We really are serious,” Dan said, frowning at Alex, thinking maybe they’d come at a bad time and should’ve rung first. Ant had really stitched them up this time.
“Do you know how many men want to learn ballroom dancing?” she asked.
“Er, no,” said Dan, flicking a look at Fluke, just in case he might miraculously know that one and getting a shrug in return.
“But you have a bunch of blokes over there.” Dan nodded towards the class in progress.
“Yes. All of them have been coming for years and all of them started here originally because a wife or a girlfriend brought them.”
“You see, I’m thinking you really don’t want to learn to dance and maybe this is a joke to you.”
Dan hesitated. It wouldn’t do to admit they were here to win a bet. That would be what this chick – what this girl, ah, woman – geez she was beautiful – would already be thinking. She had an oval shaped face with these incredible eyes, the colour of liquid amber, and this long silky black pony tail and a look that said she’d had enough of this and had somewhere better to be.
He simply hadn’t reckoned on enrolling being this hard. Staying the distance, doing the actual work, sure, but if they couldn’t get past this surprisingly beautiful ball buster with a bee up her backside just to enrol, the whole bet would be off and Ant would think up some other challenge and have them in cooking classes or book club to get in touch with their feminine sides. This was preferable. It was bound to be a workout of some sort and if it brought back memories of his mother that couldn’t be a bad thing.
The hesitation was enough. Alex had seen this countless times. Unattached men around this age wandering in on a whim, thinking the studio was a new place to pick up desperate and lonely women. Thinking they’d be the heroes. Thinking that since they danced in clubs and bars this couldn’t possibly be that hard. They took up time, they wasted resources, they irritated her, and they outright disgusted Scott. They never even lasted a term, they were disruptive, often obnoxious and inappropriate, and usually asked for their money back. It was better to get rid of them before they signed up than to deal with them any further.
“I think you might be happier somewhere else,” she said.
Link to www.escapepublishing.com.au
Diva Couch Questions
- 1. What five items would you take if you had to get out of your house in 5 mins or less
A sleepy cat, my pc and back up drive, jewellery draw, mobile phone, car keys
- 2. Tell us about the worst day job you ever had
It’s a toss up between packing nails in a hardware store or crossing dead people off electoral rolls.
- 3. What super power would you like to have and why?
Can I count being thin as a super power? Cause that’s what I want. Badly.
- 4. What food will you? absolutely not eat
Olives or red peppers. They just don’t like me.
- 5. As you’re typing the answers to these questions, what are you wearing? (that’s not a naughty question unless you have a dirty mind)
I am in my summer writing uniform, a sarong. My winter writing uniform is a track suit. The sarong is prettier. On bad days I might still be in my PJs.
- 6. Best writing advice ever received
Edit it again, along with let it rest – then edit again.
PRIZE!!! To be in the chance to win a copy of Grease Monkey Jive, just leave a comment. One lucky person’s name will be pulled from the Divas’ hat at the end of the day. Yay!!