Hello Earthlings! I’m Lex Chase
taking over JR’s blog today. So thanks for having me JR! I’m the author of
superhero romantic comedy Pawn Takes Rook, the first installment in the
Checkmate series. There are some things about authors that you may have never
known, or may delight you. So today, I am talking about the five
facts/quirks/oddities about yours truly.
1.
Tabletop
Roleplaying Games Got Me Into Writing
In my much
younger days, I was a pen and paper gamer. Rolling up characters, creating
their backstories and skills all got me thinking about worldbuilding and
storytelling. I wasn’t into AD&D so much because of the sheer amount of
math and dice rolling involved. But Cyberpunk 2020 by R. Talisorian really got
me into creating stories taking place in the world of Cyberpunk’s Night City.
At 13, and inspired by this, I created my first original world of cyborgs,
genetic experiments, and gene splicing, and asking the question of What Is It
To Be Human. Very complicated stuff for a 13 year old. But as an adult, I’m
back to trying to find an answer to that very question in a new Cyberpunk
novel.
2.
Speaking
Of The Math In AD&D, I Have A Learning Disability In Math
Math. Ugh. Math. I didn’t learn I was math disabled
until college algebra and had to be tested to prove it. My mom used to tell me
stories of how when I was little and had math worksheets from grade school, I’d
just sit and cry and couldn’t explain why. It wasn’t until much later I realized that numbers read like gibberish to me. I can
hardly add and subtract and frequently have to check my work on a calculator. I
can’t tell time on an analogue clock. At
all.
3.
Before
I Was A Writer, I Was An Artist
I had always
been telling stories and making up characters since I was young, but I was
always drawing the characters over writing their epic tales. I had dreamed of
being a comic book artist, even attended Savannah College of Art and Design to
hone my craft, but when I realized I was hopelessly outgunned in how to ‘play
the game’ I left. Something had to give. My sanity was sadly the thing that
gave. One of my professors who I stayed in touch with always said in class,
“Have a Plan B.” Writing became my Plan B. I don’t have a Plan C.
4.
I Got
A Degree In Journalism For Novel Research
This December
I’m graduating with a bachelor’s in journalism. How the hell did that work? At
SCAD, I worked on the school paper there and was rather fond of the journalism
process. And in hindsight, as art students we pretty much got away with murder.
When I left, I had started a novel and one of the characters was a war
correspondent. Seeing as I needed to finish college with some kind of degree, and I wanted to get a better view of the inner
workings of a journalist… Off I went.
5.
I
Name My Cats After Famous Artists
Fact: I’m a
cat person. Pathetic Fact: I work the weird things my cats do into casual
conversation daily. Honest to God Truth: I love my furbabies more than
anything.
It all started
thirteen years ago when I adopted a female grey and white ragamuffin kitten
with a peculiar vacant stare that I ended up naming Dali Salvador Rorschach.
Because she was an ink blot test in the style of a Dali painting, makes sense
right? Just go with it. Dali was the best
cat ever. She was very docile, friendly, and was quite clever despite her
vacant stare. We called it her “Duh Face” because she always looked like she
was going “Duuuuuuh…” Dali sadly passed away three years ago, but my family
remembers her fondly and knows there will never be another one like her. Now,
we have a tuxedo girl named Rembrandt, or Remmi for short. I secretly think
she’s the devil. She is really cute, but she’s smart, insanely clever, and can
be quite the creep. She’ll sit across the room and stare at you like she’s
pondering killing you in your sleep.
*** *** ***
Pawn Takes Rook: Blurb
The first time Hogarth Dawson
sees superhero Memphis Rook, he comes to Hogarth’s rescue by cracking the heads
of two thugs like eggs into a skillet. Hogarth is utterly smitten, but he soon
discovers the superhero Power Alliance has ejected Rook for failing to protect
a civilian.
Hogarth devises a plan that will reinstate Rook and might even earn Hogarth a
place in Power Alliance roster. But what he expects to be a simple few missions
rescuing kittens and helping little old ladies cross the street turns into a
shocking reality of citywide chases, foiling robberies, and facing his ex. Then
Hogarth discovers the beating Rook saved him from wasn’t a chance attack. It’s
possible Hogarth is just a pawn in Rook’s game….
*** *** ***
Pawn Takes Rook: Excerpt
When I first saw Rook, he was cracking the skulls of two goons like eggs
into a skillet. I sat there like a freaked out choir boy on my butt between the
trash cans lining the alley behind Ted’s TV Tabernacle, gazing in awe and
wonder. Rook had hands that could mold steel like Dollar General Play-Doh. He
did just that by wadding up Random Thug Number One’s Louisville Slugger into a sadistic snowball and beaned the guy
right in the ear. Getting snow in your ear has to be the most excruciating
sensation in existence. I can’t imagine getting Kentucky’s finest steel shoved into your
noggin.
I don’t remember if I screamed. I likely did. Totally did.
Random Thug Number Two went flying past me in an expert
over-the-shoulder throw, his open mouth smacking wetly into the bricks. Broken teeth bounced
over the sidewalk. Random Thug Number Three ducked behind the trash cans
opposite me. He popped up once in a while, hidden behind the mound of bags and cans. His
alligator eyes inched over the
unfolding scene from the safe vantage point of the trash bag swamp.
Rook surveyed the alley, making sure he had gotten them all. He
snorted a puff of steam with menacing satisfaction at seeing one guy out
cold and another on the fast track for full dentures before sixty. Then he came
to me. Now, when I say he was smoldering, that’s totally what he was doing. Smoke rose off his
tattered trench coat in ethereal coils. Rook’s smoking frame could have been caused by the chill of the oncoming winter and the steam of sweat, but it definitely added to the sexy first
impression.
His eyes, oh my Christ on a cracker…. They were not quite blue, not quite green, but like that girl on the
National Geographic cover. Those haunting Afghan eyes.
“Are you okay?” Rook rumbled in a perfect antiheroic growl while
reaching for my hand. His fingers, broad, callused, and strong, hung there long
enough to cue the musical montage in my head. I couldn’t believe it. The one and only Memphis Rook had swaggered into
my mugging, ready to bust heads. It was like he planned it, really. Or our
universes collided in some awesome poetic way that I can’t think straight at
the moment because holy crap, those hands are huge!
That’s when Random Thug Number Three opposite me decided to ruin the amazing moment, popping up like a
spring-loaded Halloween skeleton and launched at Rook.
Rook turned in a
smooth whoosh of muscle and fabric, and I shrieked as the knife skewered into
his gut. He latched onto his killer’s knife hand in surprise.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God!” I screamed. I knew in that
infinitesimally dark moment, I was going to die alongside the guy who fought in vain to
save my life.
Confused, the thug glared at him, then to his captured wrist, and
back again. “W-what are you?” he stammered as courage ran down his pants leg.
Rook released him. The thug held up the knife with the blade
crumpled onto itself like a bullet impacting a Kevlar plate. The thug backpedaled, falling backward
over a black plastic trash can after slipping on a greasy Five Guys burger wrapper. He screeched, twisting in an about face, and ran like a kid who
had spilled
orange juice on his dad’s vintage Playboys.
Then Rook turned those Afghan eyes on me, and the musical montage
returned. The sleepy, sultry lyrics to “Dream Weaver” crooned in my head
along with the accompanying halo of sparkles. His
hand, those powerful, thick fingers, reached for mine….
And then he flat fuck fell over in my lap like a Buick dropped from
low earth orbit. Steam rose from his body in the not so sexy eau de parfum of
burned rubber and gasoline. He lay there, crushing my pancreas while out cold.
And that’s how Memphis Rook fucked up my life.
By coming into it.
Where
To Buy:
Goodreads:
*** *** ***
 |
| Lex Chase |
|
Lex Chase is a journalist by day and a writer by
night. Either way you slice it, she makes things up for a living. Her style of
storytelling is action, adventure, and a dollop of steamy romance. She loves
tales of men who kiss as much as they kick ass. She believes it’s never a party
until something explodes in a magnificent fashion, be it a rolling fireball of
a car or two guys screaming out their love for one another in the freezing
rain.
Lex is a pop culture diva, an urbanite trapped in a country bumpkin’s body, and
wouldn’t last five minutes without technology in the event of the apocalypse.
She has learned that when all else fails, hug the cat.
She is a Damned Yankee hailing from the frozen backwoods of Maine residing in
the ‘burbs of Northwest Florida where it could be 80F and she’d have a
sweatshirt on because she’s freezing.
And her blog at
http://lexchase.com.
Posts
To kind of take a tangent off in another direction, I wanted
to express my opinion about something which touched a nerve for me recently.
There are some people in the LGBTQ community who believe if you aren't out on
the street dressed in a rainbow t-shirt with a rainbow flag marching in a
parade or protest and proudly screaming for equality you aren't a true
supporter. So because I'm not one of those who run out to every Pride festival
or rally or stand on the White House lawn yelling at the President and
demanding equality for all, I'm not allowed to say I'm a supporter of LGBTQ
rights? Who says? Who makes that determination? I write gay romance. I hurt for
those I see affected by the hatred still felt in so many hearts. I reprimand
anyone in my little bubble of a world who says anything offensive or snarky
about gay men and women. I CARE. I donate to LGBTQ charities. I openly and proudly tell
people what I write without a care of what they think. Why doesn't this count? 
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