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Today we spotlighting Jillian Anselmi's
When The Storm Ends!
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from Jillian Anselmi
When The Storm Ends!
When the storm ends, there’s a calm in the air that shows you everything is going to be all right.
But nothing may ever be right again.
Delani Delvecchio has weathered storm after storm throughout her life, but this one may have the potential to break her. After what is supposed to be an anniversary celebration with her friends and boyfriend, Delani gets pulled into her own personal hell.
Taken. Beaten. Tormented.
Delani fights and makes it out, only to realize she’s not safe at home—she’s no longer safe in New York at all. With an untraceable phone, clothes that aren’t her own, and enough money to get her by, she gets on a train and heads to the last place she felt she would be looked for.
What she didn’t expect to find when she got there was him.
Cocky. Charismatic. Safe.
Brody Russell, small town cop, quickly becomes the calm during Delani’s storm.
His presence makes her forget and his southern charm works its way into her heart.
Brody promises to protect her, to be right by her side when the storm ends.
But what if this storm is only the beginning?
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Q & A with Jillian Anselmi about When the Storm Ends!
Tell us about When the Storm Ends
One late night, i was inspired to write a book about a New York woman, and a rugged Texas cop. The story wrote itself, the characters screaming in my head. I don’t want to give too much away, but it’s intense.
What initially inspired you to write this book/series?
My husband is an antique dealer, and years ago, we had an auction hall in Houston. It moved to a small town outside, and the people I met there inspired the location of the story.
Tell us little about the characters in this book.
Delani is a New York girl with money. She’s sassy and smart. Brody is a wise ass, but once you read why, he’ll melt your heart.
What was the hardest part of writing this book?
Getting certain scenes right. Again, I don’t want to say too much and give away spoilers.
What was your favorite chapter (or part) to write and why?
Delani is telling Brody something horrific from her past, and Brody quotes his mother. It’s how I got the title for the book.
What are your future project(s)?
Even though this is a stand alone, i’ll be writing more of Delani and Brody. I’m also thinking of writing a series involving Brody and the DA, who you’ll meet in the second book.
Now an exciting excerpt from When The Storm Ends!
A knock at my door stirs me, but I don’t move. Nightmares continue to plague me, keeping me up throughout most of the night, and I’m exhausted. It isn’t until whoever it is bangs a little harder that I groan and throw back the comforter. Rolling out of bed, I pull my wife beater down and try to situate my sweats that seemed to wrap around me in my sleep. Peering through the peephole, I bang my head against the door and sigh before opening it.
“Mornin’, sunshine,” Brody says, handing me a coffee.
“What’s so good about it?” I mutter, bending to pick up the phone I tossed at the wall. Walking past me, he sits on the chair I evicted him from last night. “What time is it?” I ask, squinting.
“,” he answers with a grin.
“It’s so early,” I moan, sipping my coffee and instantly cringing. I swallow hard, resisting the urge to spit it across the room. “What the hell isthis?” I ask, my sour expression still evident as I hold the beverage in question away from me.
“This is not coffee. I don’t know what this is. It’s disgusting.” Placing it on the table, I rub my eyes, trying to wake up. “Where’s the closest Starbucks?” Brody bursts out laughing and I narrow my eyes. “What?”
“Starbucks? Darlin’, you’re a long way from New York City,” he says, still laughing. “Best you can do if you don’t like Dayton Donuts is get a coffee from McDonalds.”
“Wait. No Dunkin Donuts, no 7-Eleven?” He shakes his head, the motions exaggerated. “I’m going to die. A slow, painful death,” I mutter, throwing myself back down on the bed.
“Dramatic, aren’t we?” he asks, clicking his tongue.
“No, I can’t survive without coffee,” I say, exasperated.
“I guess you best invest in a coffee maker.”
“Why are you here? Where’s Travis?” I ask, rolling my eyes.
“Sorry, sugar.” He smiles, not sorry at all. Jerk. “You’re stuck with me today. C’mon. Get dressed, we have things to do before my tour.” Standing, he moves toward me.
“Tour? Are you going on a trip?”
“No,” he says, rolling his eyes. “A tour is what we call the hours a cop works.”
“Oh. So, what things do we need to do before your tour?” I ask, turning my head to bury my face in the pillow. I’m really not interested in going anywhere. The end of the bed dips where he sits.
“Get you a mattress. We need to go toward Houston, you can get a coffee then.”
“Coffee?” Visions of caramel macchiatos dancing in my head, I jump up and run to the bathroom to change. The only thing better than sleep is a good espresso.
Getting a feel for what the temperature is like here, I put on a short pair of denim shorts and a tight white tank top. I exit the bathroom to find Brody standing by the front door.
As I approach him, his demeanor changes. His impassive look turns amused. Leaning on the doorjamb, his eyes follow my every move. “So, where is this place you’re taking me for a mattress?” I ask. Brody remains quiet, his focus moving down my body. “Brody,” I ask again. Nothing. His eyes are fixated on my breasts and I’m growing impatient. “Hey,” I say, snapping my fingers inches from his face. “Eyes up here.” Slowly, he brings his gaze to mine. “This,” I say, motioning to my body, “is not for you. I’m high maintenance. You can’t afford me.”
His lips twist into a smile. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, darlin’.”
About the Author:
Jillian Anselmi resides on Long Island with her husband and teenage daughter. She studied pharmacy, but decided it wasn't the right fit for her and instead pursued a degree in chemistry. After receiving her master’s in education, she pursued a career in teaching, but there was always something missing.
As a young girl, she read an incredible amount of books, devouring over a hundred during the summer of her third grade year. After that, she would write poetry or dabble in short stories. Now, she writes romantic fiction, with some small amount of truth hiding behind her words. If you want to make her happy, surprise her with dark chocolate, a Starbucks Caramel Macchiato, or a good Sauvignon Blanc.