Welcome to PJ Jones

Today I have PJ Jones visiting my blog on her blog tour to promote her book Romance Novel. I've read this book and it's a tongue in cheek novel which is hilarious.

Ms Jones will be giving a priz of a $15 Starbucks or Amazon.com gift card to one lucky commenter. Follow the tour. The more comments you make, the more chances you have of winning.

Welcome

PJ Jones began writing Romance Novel in the spring of 2009 when she was seriously ill, thinking that this book would be her last dying legacy for mankind. After you read this book, you will probably wonder if she was trying to seal her fate in hell. Who knows? But PJ Jones has conquered her illness and is much better now. But you probably don't care, as long as her writing is funny. PJ Jones is also an avid reader of real romance novels. So why does she poke fun of them? Consider it comic relief.

Smella Rosepetal must find a millionaire husband to finance her baby’s heart transplant. She flies home to her deputy father’s ranch in Pitchforks, Texas, where she falls in love with Deadward Forest, a wealthy environmentalist vampire. 
 
When a deranged murderer is on the loose in Pitchforks, killing romance heroines, Deadward assumes Smella would be safer without him. Smella turns to her childhood friend, Snake Long, for comfort. But Snake doesn’t have the money to save her baby, so Smella places herself in peril in a desperate hunt for a rich husband.
 
Time is running out for Smella’s baby, and she must escape the Australian Outback, then face down Flabio, an overweight and disgruntled, aspiring cover model, plus enraged vampire wives and their homosexual, vampire, cowboy husbands, a jealous were-gerbil, James Bond, a drunk rodeo clown and Smella’s strange boyfriend who wants to drain her blood, yet is repulsed by her smell.

Why I wrote ROMANCE NOVEL…by PJ Jones
It’s amazing how a writer can discover her funny bone when wallowing in self-pity. That’s how I discovered my twisted and crude sense of humor. Over two years ago, I was suffering from an unexplained health crisis, and since laughter has always been my best medicine, writing Romance Novel was my source of therapy. I came up with the idea after dreaming about a crude and tacky love scene. I woke up, scribbled the scene on some paper and read it to my husband. We both had a good laugh, so I decided to finish the scene and share it with my critique group, since, at the time, I had been too sick to brainstorm any other novels.
Initially, I never intended to publish Romance Novel, but my critique partners insisted I try to get it published. Surprise, surprise, my tasteless and tacky parody was rejected by the publishers and agents I queried, so I gave up. That’s when my critique group urged me to publish through Kindle and Nook. I’m glad I followed their advice. RN has received great reviews and steady sales since its release.
I’ve posted the love scene that started it all below. But before you read it, I’d like to leave you with this thought - if ever your life takes a nosedive right into the bottom of the toilet, remember that laughter really IS the best medicine.  PJ
 

Smella glared at him while tapping her foot. “Are you going to kiss me passionately or what?”
 “Yes, of course.” He sat up and grabbed her in a passionate embrace, thrusting his tongue deep inside her mouth, moving it about for a reasonable amount of time, until his pants felt so tight, he worried he’d bust a seam. Pulling back a few inches, he looked into her heavy lidded eyes, noting with satisfaction how she panted and swooned. “How’s that?” he asked.
She brushed the sleeve of her tweed coat across her passion-soaked lips. “Gawd, did you have onions for dinner?”
“Sorry.” Snake winced, wishing he’d laid off the salsa when he’d eaten those fish tacos. “Do you want me to brush?”
“No,” Looking like she had her own dirty little secret to share, she toyed her fingers while playfully biting her lower lip. “I haven’t washed my delicate blossoming flower in over a month, so now we’re even.”
“That’s disgusting!” He gagged, releasing Smella’s shoulders. He was so disgusted, that a tiny amount of bile projected into the back of his throat.
She flopped back into her bean bag. “Women hardly bathe in medieval times,” she huffed.
“It’s 2011,” he corrected. 
Smella sat up and jammed a finger in his chest. “Are you going to point out every historical inaccuracy in this convoluted story-line?”


Excerpt

“Miss Rosepetal. I’m afraid your baby is gravely ill. As each day passes, his heart beats slower. Eventually, it will stop.”  Dr. Wannabush sat on the edge of his desk, twirling the tip of his dark, slender moustache, while he peered down at Smella Rosepetal through small, dark-rimmed spectacles.
“Not my little Joshua!” Hands clasped over her heart, the young mother‘s gaze swept over the rosy-cheeked, crimson-haired, infant sleeping in the basket beside her chair. “Doctor,” she cried, “you must save him!”
Dr. Wannabush stood, adjusting the heavy weight in his crotch while he thrust his pelvis precariously close to the bridge of Smella’s blemish-free, and not overly-large, forehead. “He will need a heart transplant, but the operation is risky.”
Smella managed to look up at the doctor’s face, despite the stiffened protrusion obscuring her vision. “How risky?” she asked.
Shaking his head, the doctor sat back down, the bulge in his plaid polyester pants looking more like an erect circus tent. “There is a fifty-percent chance he will not make it.”
“Oh, my baby!” She cried, her long tresses coming undone from their neat, maidenly confinement, in lush, cascading, dark waves, despite the fact that Smella hadn’t touched her scalp.
The doctor arched a slender brow. “And there’s more.”
“More?” she gasped.
“Your health insurance doesn’t cover this type of surgery.” The doctor leveled her with a hardened stare. “You will need five hundred thousand dollars.”
“Doctor, I’m a vulnerable single mother, desperately in need of a strong man to take care of me.” A hand flew to her brow and she turned pleading violet eyes upon him. “Where am I to get that kind of money?”
     Lost in a perfectly staged, yet not painstakingly long, lapse of thought, the doctor rubbed his chiseled jaw. “Might I suggest you marry a young, sophisticated, wealthy Texas tycoon with raven hair and bulging biceps, who’s not afraid of a long-term commitment to a poor, ignorant, yet surprisingly beautiful, single mother, who for some reason has a flat stomach and firm breasts, despite the fact that she recently birthed an illegitimate child?”
“What a good idea.” Suddenly forgetting the gravity of the situation, Smella nearly jumped out of her seat, her perky breasts jiggling once, then coming to a complete, controlled stop. “How can I ever thank you?” she beamed.
Dr. Wannabush shrugged, a sly grin creasing the corners of his mouth. “A quickie on top of my desk.”
Batting long, lush lashes, she shook her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, doctor, but I’m saving my virginity for my one true love.”
His forehead wrinkled in obvious confusion. “You have a baby.”
“Yes, I know. He’s the light of my life, and so smart.”  She looked down at the baby again, which had somehow sprouted blond hair and a dimple in his chin. “He cries only on cue and knows not to interrupt a scene between Mommy and a minor secondary character.”
The doctor heaved a sigh. “Are you sure I can’t change your mind about that quickie?”
“No, doctor, I’m sorry. I must hurry to Texas if I am to save my baby.” Smella and her breasts quickly stood. She single-handedly lifted the infant’s basket with surprising ease before abruptly turning and heading for the door. “Thank you for everything. Maybe if you’re lucky, you will have sex in a sequel.”


PJ Jones began writing Romance Novel in the spring of 2009 when she was seriously ill, thinking that this book would be her last dying legacy for mankind. After you read this book, you will probably wonder if she was trying to seal her fate in hell. Who knows? But PJ Jones has conquered her illness and is much better now. But you probably don't care, as long as her writing is funny. PJ Jones is also an avid reader of real romance novels. So why does she poke fun of them? Consider it comic relief.

 

webpage: http://pjjonesramblings.blogspot.com/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=100002264026213

Ms Jones next stop will be 6/24/2011 Sexy Adventures, Passionate Tales