Tuesday, November 7, 2017

Blog Tour / Review: Acting on Impulse by Thea Dawson



Acting on Impulse
Thea Dawson
Price:  99c from 11/6–11/19; $2.99 otherwise
ASIN: B073YDXRMX

Amazon US: 

Amazon AU: 

Goodreads: 

She's camera shy. He's a big star. Is love worth the limelight? 

13 years ago, Joy rejected Chris when he made a pass at her—right in front of her husband. Since then, her marriage has imploded in scandal and Chris has become a movie star. Now they’re thrown together again on the set of a play. Joy wants to keep a low profile. Chris comes trailed by the tabloids. But neither of them can deny the temptation to act on their impulses.

Acting on Impulse is part of the Silverweed Falls Series, but can be read as a standalone.

Chris McPherson has made it big. First his stint on a sitcom and now a leading role in a major blockbuster, his star is on the rise. But he never forgot Joy, the older woman he had a crush on during his one summer of theater 13 years ago.

Joy is out of her marriage, but not sure where to go in life. When Victor, her mentor and friend asks her to team up with Chris for a summer to save their theater group, she isn't sure what to expect.

The characters share this chemistry that is hard to ignore. Definitely one click this one!
Acting on Impulse can be read as a standalone even though it is part of a series. The characters are great, the chemistry undeniable, and the plot intriguing. 

 Chris made a pass at Joy when she was still married 13 years ago, but since then he became a movie star and she got a divorce. Now they are thrown together to star in a play together that just might save her theatre troupe. Will it be more than just acting between them, or will they find something more together?

 I really enjoyed reading this story and highly recommend it. One click this today. 4 stars.

Hoping she didn’t look as self-conscious as she felt, Joy steered Chris to the Riverfront Café, letting out a breath of relief as they stepped over the threshold to the chime of the little bells over the door.
The café was crowded, but a couple of the smaller tables toward the back were empty.
“I’ll grab us a drink, you grab us a table,” Chris suggested. “Iced espresso?”
Against her will, she was impressed. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
She took a seat at a small table by the window that overlooked the river that flowed through the middle of town. A few minutes later he joined her, putting a frosty glass down on the table in front of her.
“I’m amazed you remembered,” she said.
“You were the first person I ever met who liked ice cubes in her coffee. It was the weirdest thing I’d ever encountered,” he said, sliding into the seat across from her. “It’s like how you never forget the first girl who asks you to do something really kinky.” He flashed her the cheeky smile that had helped make him famous.
There was the cockiness.
So this was how it was going to be. They were falling back into the flirty one-upmanship that had been the hallmark of their friendship thirteen years ago, him the comedian, her the straight man. It was fun, it was sweet, it was ... safe.
He wasn’t about to bring up their last encounter—possibly he’d been so drunk he didn’t really remember it. And she wasn’t going to bring it up because, after all ... awkward.
A relationship based on friendly banter—she could do that.
She met his remark with a condescending lift of her eyebrows. “You think regular ice cubes are weird?” She tapped her glass. “Here, the ice cubes are made out of coffee. Gives it an extra kick.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively and pushed her straw toward him. “Try it.”
“Whoa, mama!” He lifted his hands up in mock surrender. “Pretty sure that’s banned in at least thirty states.” He nodded knowingly at her. “You may look all straight-laced, but I always knew you had a freaky side just waiting to come out.”

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Chris stood at the door. He blinked in surprise, then swept her up and down with appreciative eyes. Self-conscious, she fought the urge to clutch the collar of her bathrobe more tightly around her neck; she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
“Why, Joy,” Chris gave her his biggest smile. “I see you were expecting me.”
“I thought you were the UPS guy,” she growled.
“Lucky UPS guy. I never seriously considered a career as a delivery man, but it’s starting to look pretty good.” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Don’t tell me all those porn movies are based in reality?”
“What porn movies? And what are you doing here?”
“Ruining some poor UPS guy’s evening, from the looks of it. And you know, those porn movies with the lonely housewife and the delivery man.” He scratched his beard. “Come to think of it, maybe it’s usually a pizza guy.”
She sighed. “Why don’t you come in before my gossipy neighbors call the tabloids. How did you know where I live?”
“Your friend Eva pointed out your house. I’m renting a place just a few streets over,” he explained as he stepped in, catching the subtlest scent of perfume as he brushed past her.
His appreciation of the sight of her had not been faked; the silky robe slid over her curves and slipped open at the neckline to reveal a touch more cleavage than was probably intentional. Still, the sight of her in her robe unnerved him in more ways than one.
“I’m not actually interrupting anything, am I?” he asked, trying to hide the fear that he was.
“Would it matter if you were?” she asked drily.
He gave her a look of surprised innocence. “Hey, if you’ve got a delivery man stashed away somewhere, just tell me and I’ll get out of your hair. But if you don’t, I actually came by to see if you wanted to go out for dinner and talk over the production.” His heart was pounding but he tried to keep his tone casual. Just two old friends getting together for dinner. No biggie.
“I don’t think so, Chris. I’m ... pretty wiped out.”
He nodded knowingly. “On account of that emotionally draining encounter with your ex-husband?”
She gave an exasperated sigh. “For crying out loud, is there no privacy in this town? How on earth did you know about that?”
“Sorry,” Chris said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to spy on you, but I got into town this afternoon and met up with Simon at that café. We were on the patio, and I saw the two of you through the glass. You didn’t look happy, so I also came by to see how you were doing.”

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“We-ell, look at this.” Chris pulled out the tabloid that Charlotte had bought the other week at Safeway. “Doing your research?”
Joy felt her cheeks start to warm. “That’s Charlotte’s.”
He gave her a knowing smile. “Sure it is. Well, don’t believe any of it. It’s all lies.” He tossed the magazine onto the coffee table in front of them. His face on the cover, so uncharacteristically stern, stared back at them.
“Even the parts about you being charming and talented and extremely good in bed?”
He looked scandalized. “Did that actually say that?” He reached for the magazine again, but she snatched it away with a laugh and opened it up, taking the opportunity to shift away from him so that her back was against the arm of the couch and she was facing him.
“No, but let’s see what they got right.” She gave him a wicked grin.
“No, come on—” he tried to grab the magazine from her, but she pulled it out of reach. He leaned back on the couch, resigned.
She read the headline with an extra dose of drama in her voice. “‘Chris McPherson: Will This Star Keep Rising or Will He Crash and Burn?’” She cleared her throat and began reading the body of the article. “‘He may be Hollywood’s newest bad boy, but Chris McPherson has a flair for the art of charm. He is waiting for me at an outside table at Republique, one of LA’s most popular bistros. With a diffident charm that reminds me of Jimmy Stewart, and the body of a young Brando, his charisma is instantly apparent. But like those stars of yesteryear, Hollywood’s newest darling has a dark side, too.’”
“That article was my publicist’s idea,” he said quickly. He sounded embarrassed. “To use my ‘dark side’—” he made air quotes, “to give me ‘depth.’” More air quotes.
“Body of a young Brando.” She raised her eyebrows in ironic  respect. “That’s deep.”
“Put that trash down.” He wasn’t looking at her and no longer sounded amused. “God, I wish I had half Brando’s talent,” he replied, staring into the empty fireplace. “I wouldn’t be worthy of getting the man coffee. “
The raised brows stayed in place but lost the irony. “You’re very talented,” she assured him, surprised at his sudden seriousness. 
“Not like Brando talented.”
“Why not like Brando talented?”
He made a snorting sound that was half humor, half exasperation. “I’m a comedian, Joy. I’m pratfalls and snappy one liners. Campground was Yogi Bear meets Cheech and Chong, and Crusaders is all fight scenes and special effects. Sure, they buffed me up for it, but I’m not exactly Stanley Kowalski material.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tease him but the look in his eyes stopped her. The conversation had suddenly grown serious.

Thea Dawson has lived in Rome, Tokyo, and London, and spent much of her twenties traveling around the world. Eventually she met the love of her life and settled down in the Pacific Northwest, where she now lives with her husband and three children. After a checkered career which included stints as an English teacher, librarian and editor, she now writes full time, telling tales of romance and adventure.

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