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Release Day: Some Kind of Magic by Mary Ann Marlowe

1/31/2017

1 Comment

 
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Usually, I prefer to promote books on my blog that fall into the (broad) category of speculative fiction—it's what I write, it's what my company publishes, and it's what most (though certainly not all) of my writerly friends write. Mary Ann Marlowe's debut novel Some Kind of Magic is going to sit squarely on the "Contemporary Romance" or "Romantic Comedy" shelves, but I'm going to argue it's got a speculative slant to it. There's a bit of a "Love Potion #9" theme going on here, and a "what if?" question about just how powerful synthetic pheromones could be. And no matter whether I can call it speculative or not, I'm still going to pick up a copy, because it sounds freaking adorable.

Here's the description:

In this sparkling debut novel, Mary Ann Marlowe introduces a hapless scientist who's swept off her feet by a rock star—but is it love or just a chemical reaction?...

Biochemist Eden Sinclair has no idea that the scent she spritzed on herself before leaving the lab is designed to enhance pheromones. Or that the cute, grungy-looking guy she meets at a gig that evening is Adam Copeland. As in the Adam Copeland international rock god and object of lust for a million women. Make that a million and one. By the time she learns the truth, she s already spent the (amazing, incredible) night in his bed.
 
Suddenly Eden, who's more accustomed to being set up on disastrous dates by her mom, is going out with a gorgeous celebrity who loves how down-to-earth and honest she is. But for once, Eden isn't being honest. She can't bear to reveal that this overpowering attraction could be nothing more than seduction by science. And the only way to know how Adam truly feels is to ditch the perfume—and risk being ditched in turn.
 
Smart, witty, and sexy, Some Kind of Magic is an irresistibly engaging look at modern relationships: why we fall, how we connect, and the courage it takes to trust in something as mysterious and unpredictable as love.
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Super cute, right?

Mary Ann Marlowe is part of the PitchWars 2014 cohort that I have been lucky enough to tag along with as so many of them grow and get published and continue to be absolutely amazing, supportive people.

Some Kind of Magic is out now in paperback and Kindle from Kensington Books. Happy Book Birthday!

Find Your Copy of Some Kind of Magic:
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble


About the Author

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Website | Facebook | Twitter

Some Kind of Magic
is Mary Ann Marlowe’s first novel. When not writing, she works by day as a computer programmer/DBA. She spent ten years as a university-level French professor, and her resume includes stints as an au pair in Calais, a hotel intern in Paris, a German tutor, a college radio disc jockey, and a webmaster for several online musician fandoms, plus she has a second-degree black belt. She has lived in twelve states and three countries and loves to travel. She now lives in central Virginia where she is hard at work on her second novel. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website at www.maryannmarlowe.com, Facebook, and Twitter.

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Story Behind the Story: "Post Apocalyptic Poodle"

1/10/2017

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PictureNot a poodle.
Husband, leaving for work: "I'm off to save the world."

The Dog: *whines*

Me: "This dog appreciates it. He doesn't want to be a post-apocalyptic dog."

Husband: "Yeah, he doesn't look good in spikes. He's not tough enough to hang with the other post-apocalyptic dogs."

Me: "It's true. All the dogs you ever see in post-apocalyptic stories are, like, Pit Bulls and German Shepherds. You never hear about post-apocalyptic poodles."

And so he went off to work, the dog eventually stopped whining, and I wrote "Post Apocalyptic Poodle."

Charles Christian, the editor at Grievous Angel, bought the story because, as he says in his introduction to it, "I've a dachshund who came from a rescue charity but who I suspect is actually an alien in an unfortunate disguise." Everyone needs mirrors in fiction, even alien-eyed shorty dogs.

I started to say just now that I try not to write apocalyptic stories, but my own publication list belies that claim. There's "The Bolt Tightener," where a seawall is the only thing keeping the monsters from their final victory; there's "Natural Selection," a maybe-it's-a-virus, maybe-it's-zombies survival struggle; there's "As Dust Rolls Toward the Mountain," a contemporary Cassandra retelling about an asteroid strike, there's "Breath Over the Mouth of a Bottle," where an unnatural snowstorm has engulfed the whole planet.

So. I guess I do write the occasional apocalyptic story. But I'm a little tired of them, to be honest, which is why it was easy to for me to satirize the genre in "Post Apocalyptic Poodle." It seems to be impossible these days for writers to imagine a future that isn't an apocalypse or a dystopia. I'm very interested in the nascent Solarpunk subgenre, which challenges writers to imagine an optimistic future. Even most supposed solarpunk I've read is still dystopic or post-apocalyptic in nature. It's like the crash is so inevitable at this point that we can't even conceptualize of it not happening.

Anyway.

"Post Apocalyptic Poodle" is just over 500 words, and it's online to read for free. Give it a read, and then click through to see the other fun stories Grievous Angel has published.


Post-apocalyptic Poodle has no master. She runs free in the ruins of her former master’s city. She ravages the Dumpsters, the roadside recycling, the industrial bins. Other survivors skulk around the alleyways and snarl at her. She rolls in mud until it cakes her hypoallergenic locks, positions sticks along her back like spikes, and snarls back.
            
Before the end, Post-apocalyptic Poodle was a lap dog named Twinkle Toes. All she ever saw of the city was the backyard, and the fifteen minute stretch of road on the way to the grooming salon. Occasionally, she got to ride in the shopping cart at a massive and overstimulating supermarket. She was no one. Just another bark in the night wind, just another scent on the grass. But after – after – she was still here. And now, these streets are hers.

Read More...

If you enjoy this story, check out my other "dog story," "Working Like a Dog," published in Bartleby Snopes.
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