Today I am so pleased to welcome L.B. Gregg to Joyfully Jay. L.B. has come to talk to us about There’s Something About Ari. L.B. has also brought along a great giveaway. Please join me in giving a big welcome!
Hi and welcome. Thanks for having me on the blog today to celebrate the second book in Riptide’s multi-author series. Bluewater Bay, my very own contribution—There’s Something About Ari.
My name is L.B. Gregg and, true story, I dedicated this book to a stranger.
Last November, my youngest daughter and I had a really awful week. So we drove to Providence RI to see one of our favorite bands play at Lupo’s Heartbreak Hotel. The Front Bottoms were the supporting act (second of three bands) and I’d never heard of them before, but that happens with opening acts, so we settled in to enjoy the show.
These young guys came out on stage and set up their own equipment. They waved to fans, smiled and laughed, and when they started to play, the crowd went freaking nuts. I mean, to call these concertgoers exuberant was an understatement. These fans were crazed. They were moving. They were pushing. Shoving. They knew every single word to every single song and they spoke/sang/screamed them back to lead singer/song writer Brian Sella at the top of their lungs. They would have drowned him out, but man, the band kept up.
I was in the front row, because I’m the cool mom, and I got swept up and knocked down, and then, being an actual mom, I got ticked off. To cool off, I elbowed those college kids out of my path and like any self-respecting grown up, I went to bar.
I was like: The fuck is this?
Well, this, apparently, is The Front Bottoms. And I’m a fan. Maybe not a push-and-shover, but I’m in the front row, and I’m shouting right along.
Some authors find music a distraction. I can’t imagine. When I’m deep in a creative flow, I don’t hear anything but the words inside my head and the clicking of the keyboard— but when the flooding words dry and the desert hell of writer’s block waits, music sustains me. There’s something strangely endearing and utterly addictive about this band. They’re earnest and raw. Relatable, but deceptively deep. They’re fun. They’re young. They’re boys. They’re hilarious. They sing about girls and friendship, weed and memories, joy and sadness. They totally suit me and they put me in the right mind space to be with Buck and Ari.
It felt right to say thank you.
There’s Something About Ari Playlist:
- Happy—Pharrell Williams
- Somebody That I Used to Know—Gotye
- Nicest Thing—Kate Nash
- Tattooed Tears—The Front Bottoms
- I Can Feel Your Pain—Manchester Orchestra
- Don’t Let Them See You Cry— Manchester Orchestra
- Backflip—The Front Bottoms
- Twin Sized Mattress—The Front Bottoms
- Everything to Nothing—Manchester Orchestra
- Flashlight—The Front Bottoms
- Hey Ya!—Outkast
- Dangerous (feat. Joywave)—Big Data
- Flying Model Rockets—The Front Bottoms
- Aur Revoir (Adios)—The Front Bottoms
- Good Friend—Cloud Cult
- Hey Ya—Outkast
- Can’t Hold Us (feat. Ray Dalton)—Macklemore & Ryan Lewis
Buck Ellis’s future seems pretty damn bright. With a full college scholarship in hand, he’s going to ditch Bluewater Bay and pave the way for his kid brother Charlie to do the same. The only fly in Buck’s ointment is his ten-year addiction to his best friend since second grade, his true love, and his Achilles heel: Ari Valentine, Mr. Least Likely to Succeed.
But then Buck’s mother dies, changing everything, and five years later, his future is still on hold. It’s a struggle to keep food on the table, a roof over their heads, and Charlie on the straight and narrow. Buck can’t afford any temptation, especially in the form of the newly returned, super hot, super confident, super successful television star Ari Valentine.
ADHD poster-child Ari Valentine left for Hollywood and lost everything, including his bad reputation. Then the breakthrough role of his skyrocketing career lands him back in Bluewater Bay, to the stunned disbelief of, well, everyone. But there’s only one person Ari longs to impress—the only person who ever really mattered to him, the person he left behind: Buck Ellis.
When not working from her home in the rolling hills of Northwestern Connecticut, author L.B. Gregg can be spotted in coffee shops from Berlin to Singapore to Panama–sipping lattes and writing sweet, hot, often funny, stories about men who love men. www.lbgregg.com
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