Friday Guest: P.J. Jones

HOW MANY PARODIES CAN FIT INTO ONE BOOK?

The answer is limitless. Consider my new release, Romance Novel, a  Vampire, Shape-shifter, Medical, Historical, Erotic, Western and Unwed Virgin Mother parody.  In the book I obviously poke fun of the Twilight series, plus Brokeback Mountain, Australia, James Bond (don’t ask what he’s doing in a romance novel when we know he’s only out for one thing) and, of course, Texas Millionaire fatherless-baby books. We’ve all read them. We all love them, but oohhhh, they’re perfect parody targets! Add a little medical suspense and a disgruntled, overweight cover model, and, BAM!, you’ve got a spicy, flavorful, if not tacky, parody.

Currently, I’m nearly finished writing a romantic comedy (not a parody) and then it’s on to Romnce Novel 2, where, of course, zombies must make their debut. What’s a romance without zombies to add some zest to the plot?

Some people may wonder, “PJ, how can your plots make any sense with all those novels jammed into one?”

Honestly, I wonder that, too, especially when I’ve infused historical romance scenes into a contemporary plot.

So to quote SMELLA ROSEPETAL, the heroine of Romance Novel, “Are you going to point out every historical inaccuracy in this convoluted story-line?” 

Of course, you aren’t. You’d be shoveling for days if you tried to fill all the plot holes in my parody.  Just sit back, relax, and savor the story. Romance Novel is a rich blend of flavorful, if not foul smelling, piling heaps of crap, meant to be enjoyed with a fine glass of generic beer on tap.

 Blurb:
“Snake,” Smella cooed while trailing her fingertip along his bulging biceps. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

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.

Excerpt:

His eyes widened, and he looked at her with a goofy, hopeful gleam in his eyes. “You want me to be the father of your illegitimate child?”

“Don’t be silly.” She swatted his shoulder while rolling her eyes. “I was wondering if you knew anything about Deadward Forest.”

Snake winced, a gleam of anger flashing across his features. “Why do you want to know about pasty face?”

“That’s not very nice, Snake,” she scolded. “Maybe he’s allergic to Vitamin D.”

“Are you joking?” He spat. “Deadward is a bloodsucker, just like the rest of his family.”

“Bloodsuckers? Really?” Smella perked, the visualization of heaping wads of money making her mouth water. “So that’s how he got rich. Do they handle personal injuries or divorces?”

“Neither, Smella.” Snake shook his head, while jumping out of the truck and slamming the imaginary door. “You need to stay away from The Forests,” he raged, before sweeping Smella into a passionate embrace. “Let me take care of you and the little bastard,” he begged, his eyes turning dark, thunderous.

Mouth agape, Smella stared at Snake. His body was large, strong and warm. She could get lost in his liquid molten gaze. Oh, if only he was rich and white. But now was not the time to be distracted by secondary heroes. She needed a man who could save little Wally.

“Do you have the money to pay for my baby’s heart surgery?” she rasped.

“No,” he said on an exhale, as if his chest had been crushed with the admission.  

“Then forget it, Snake!” Smella pushed away, trying hard to ignore her feelings for him as she bemoaned the fact that friendship sex would count as a strike against her virginity. “I’ve already made up my mind.” She spoke without conviction then bit hard on her knuckles in an effort to quell her raging sexual hormones.  

“Besides,” she confessed, “even though I don’t know much about Deadward, I’m already irrevocably and unconditionally in love with him.”

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. Want to find out more? Her blog and Facebook page have much more!