{"id":6152,"date":"2016-05-10T01:05:09","date_gmt":"2016-05-10T05:05:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/kate-hill.com\/blog\/?p=6152"},"modified":"2016-05-10T18:27:57","modified_gmt":"2016-05-10T22:27:57","slug":"blog-tour-the-devils-own-chloe-by-alix-nichols","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kate-hill.com\/blog\/?p=6152","title":{"rendered":"Blog Tour: The Devil’s Own Chloe by Alix Nichols"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"devilschloebanner\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\"Chloe-1MB\"<\/a>Title:<\/strong> The Devil\u2019s Own Chloe<\/p>\n

Author:<\/strong> Alix Nichols<\/p>\n

Genre:<\/strong> Romantic Comedy \/ Contemporary Romance<\/p>\n

Young Parisian architect Chloe Germain hires childhood friend Hugo Bonnet as a builder. Lethally toxic to loved ones, Chloe keeps them at arm\u2019s length in order to protect them.<\/p>\n

Or so she thinks.<\/p>\n

Capable, strong and patient, Hugo prides himself on being able to fix anything. Trouble is, he\u2019s never tried repairing a chasm in someone\u2019s soul before.<\/p>\n

Will his love save Chloe or will fixing her leave him broken?<\/p>\n

Excerpt 1 (Chapter One)<\/p>\n

It\u2019s Saturday night, known to the mated population of Paris as Hump Night<\/em>. The singles call it Hunt Night<\/em>. Single women\u2014except the confirmed bachelorettes who\u2019ve embraced celibacy\u2014refer to it as Manhunt Night<\/em>.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m a dyed-in-the-wool bachelorette who engages in regular hunting and occasional fishing.<\/p>\n

Even gathering is not beneath me.<\/p>\n

My kind is so rare, especially among the pre-nasty-divorce crowd, that some consider us an anomaly while others refuse to believe in our existence.<\/p>\n

But we definitely exist.<\/p>\n

At least I, Chloe Germain, do.<\/p>\n

For now.<\/em><\/p>\n

What a shame humanlike robots are nowhere near industrial production yet! I envy those who\u2019ll be born at the end of the century, when stunning PAs (Personal Androids) will make it unnecessary for people like me to be intimate with strangers.<\/p>\n

Note to the universe: In the event you reincarnate me in female form a hundred years from now, please look at the \u201cDreamboat\u201d file on my computer. I\u2019ve spent many an evening in front of it designing my bespoke three-dimensional PA, man parts and all.<\/p>\n

And what glorious, tip-top man parts they are!<\/p>\n

Oh well.<\/em><\/p>\n

Maybe I\u2019ll turn out to be one of those lucky individuals whose libido dries up by their mid-thirties. Just another decade to go, and my weekends could be free from hunting and all the associated awkwardness.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d love that.<\/p>\n

But I\u2019m not holding out hope.<\/p>\n

Right now, I amble down the crowded Boulevard de S\u00e9bastopol, trying to sashay my hips with surgical precision so the movement gets noticed and appreciated but doesn\u2019t get misinterpreted. My goal is to produce a sway that conveys, \u201cHere comes an emancipated woman looking for some fun tonight,\u201d and not, \u201cI\u2019m a slut\u2014do me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Problem is the vast majority of men fail to see the difference between the two.<\/p>\n

As is often the case, I give up the runway walk after a few minutes, blaming my uncooperative hips. Instead, I undo another button on my shirt and clutch my purse with my pepper spray a little tighter.<\/p>\n

I haven\u2019t needed the spray yet, but you never know.<\/p>\n

As I approach Caf\u00e9<\/em> Lolo<\/em>, I spot a man smoking a cigarette at a table on the sidewalk terrace. He\u2019s by himself, and his dispassionate demeanor tells me he isn\u2019t expecting anyone. I halt just a couple of steps from him as if debating what to do. After three seconds of fake hesitation, I sit at the closest table and take a better look at the Candidate.<\/p>\n

His espresso cup is full, which means he won\u2019t be leaving just yet. That\u2019s a good sign. An even better sign is that the man is skinny and aloof. He has a bad boy leather jacket and a don\u2019t-mess-with-me haircut. Oh, and did I mention the dark stubble peppering the bottom half of his gaunt face?<\/p>\n

So my type.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cGot a light?\u201d I ask, leaning in.<\/p>\n

He looks me up and down and pulls out a lighter.<\/p>\n

As I sit back with my cigarette between my lips, I consider which pickup line to use next.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou come here often?\u201d he asks.<\/p>\n

Thank you<\/em>. \u201cNot really. You?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I live nearby.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, so you\u2019re a local.\u201d My lips stretch into a friendly smile. \u201cWhat\u2019s the best feature of this neighborhood?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou plan to move here?\u201d<\/p>\n

I shake my head. \u201cJust being curious.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat you consider good may be bad from my perspective.\u201d He cocks his head. \u201cI don\u2019t know you well enough to answer that question.\u201d<\/p>\n

It\u2019s tempting to ask if he\u2019d like to get to know me better tonight, but I stop myself. Women who are too forward scare men off. I don\u2019t mind driving away the caring and marrying types. But I\u2019ll bet anything the Candidate isn\u2019t one of them.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood point,\u201d I say. \u201cLet me be more specific. Are there any good music bars in this area?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re two steps from Bastille,\u201d he says. \u201cTake a wild guess.\u201d<\/p>\n

Does he sound peeved, or am I reading him wrong? As a matter of fact, I find myself unable to read him at all. Maybe he isn\u2019t a good candidate, after all. Maybe I should leave right now, before I\u2019ve ordered anything, and try my luck elsewhere.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d he says as I put out my cigarette. \u201cThat came out ruder than I meant it.\u201d<\/p>\n

I give him a probing look.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me try again.\u201d He gives me an unpracticed smile. \u201cOf course there are good music bars around here. And, by the way, my name is Fabien.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Chloe.\u201d<\/p>\n

Fabien sets a few coins on the table. \u201cI could take you to a Irish pub around the corner if you like Celtic music.\u201d<\/p>\n

I tilt my head to one side. \u201cDo you<\/em> like it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s OK,\u201d he says, impassive.<\/p>\n

He is<\/em> perfect.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, then. Let\u2019s check it out.\u201d<\/p>\n

In the pub, we half listen to a rocksy Breton band playing folksy Breton songs. I make lackadaisical comments from time to time. Fabien gives an occasional nod. Our main activity is consuming large amounts of beer.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s your line of work, Chloe?\u201d he asks when the band finishes their encore song and the bar begins to empty.<\/p>\n

\u201cHome renovations. Yours?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBusiness.\u201d<\/p>\n

He doesn\u2019t elaborate, and I don\u2019t insist.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s not as if I care.<\/p>\n

One of the waiters places a check on our table, and another one begins to flip chairs onto tables.<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess it\u2019s time to go home.\u201d I grab the bill. \u201cLet me treat you.\u201d<\/p>\n

He snatches it from my hand. \u201cNo way. It\u2019s on me.\u201d<\/p>\n

I object, he insists, and the ritualized back-and-forth ends with him shoving the check in his pocket and handing the server a fifty.<\/p>\n

When the server brings the change, Fabien leaves him a generous tip.<\/p>\n

So far so good.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cDo you live with your parents?\u201d he asks as we step out into the night.<\/p>\n

Every time I get this coded proposition, it reminds me of my first year in Paris as a naive small-town freshman at the \u00c9cole de Versailles<\/em>. I spent a good half of that year debating if Parisian men routinely inquired about my living arrangements out of politeness or a genuine interest in my person.<\/p>\n

\u201cA hotel room would be better,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n

Fabien says nothing, just stares at me.<\/p>\n

I stare back, trying to guess his next move. Will he seal the deal or back out?<\/p>\n

\u201cFollow me,\u201d he finally says.<\/p>\n

Yes! <\/em><\/p>\n

Congratulations, Chloe, on yet another successful manhunt.<\/p>\n

We get down to business pretty much the moment we step into the room, and it\u2019s just as I expected. Fabien performs well. I manage to peak with a little help from my fingers, which is totally fine by me.<\/p>\n

Two hours later, we\u2019re dressed again and ready to part ways.<\/p>\n

\u201cSalut<\/em>,\u201d I say as soon as we\u2019re outside the hotel entrance.<\/p>\n

He looks taken aback, and I\u2019m pleased.<\/p>\n

Men are always the ones to decamp after casual sex while their female partner is holding her breath for a \u201cCan I see you again?\u201d So, yes, doing this feels good. It feels like a small but much-needed contribution to restoring the balance of yin and yang in the universe. Not that I believe in that New Age-y crap for a second.<\/p>\n

\u201cUm\u2026 yeah, take care,\u201d Fabien says. He doesn\u2019t budge, though.<\/p>\n

I turn on my heel and march to the nearest m\u00e9tro<\/em> station before he can suggest we do this again sometime soon. Or worse, ask me out for a drink.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t do drinks, dinners, movies, dates, or relationships.<\/p>\n

My life is a love-free zone.<\/p>\n

Anything that resembles feelings<\/em> or might be fertile soil for affection<\/em> triggers a glaring neon sign in my head that screams, \u201cRun!\u201d The sign isn\u2019t for my benefit. It\u2019s to protect the innocents who don\u2019t know what\u2019s coming for them. Innocents who have no idea what I\u2019m capable of.<\/p>\n

If souls can be reborn, I\u2019m the newest reincarnation of the mythical King Midas, who turned everything he touched into gold. Only my gift is less profitable and more macabre.<\/p>\n

I turn everyone who loves me into dead meat.<\/p>\n

Author Bio<\/h2>\n

\"NP-square-Small\"<\/a>Alix Nichols is an unapologetic caffeine addict and a longtime fan of Mr. Darcy, especially in his Colin Firth incarnation. She is a Kindle Scout and Dante Rossetti Award winning author of critically acclaimed romantic comedies.<\/p>\n

At the age of six, she released her first rom com. It featured highly creative spelling on a dozen pages stitched together and bound in velvet paper.<\/p>\n

Decades later, she still loves the romance genre. Her spelling has improved (somewhat), and her books have made Amazon bestseller lists, climbing as high as #1. She lives in France with her family and their almost-human dog.<\/p>\n

Links<\/h2>\n

Amazon US: http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/dp\/B01EJPM108<\/a><\/p>\n

Amazon UK: http:\/\/www.amazon.co.uk\/dp\/B01EJPM108<\/a><\/p>\n

Join Alix Nichols\u2019s mailing list and\u00a0get another book free: http:\/\/www.alixnichols.com<\/a>.<\/p>\n

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