Barclay Publicity Presents: Jenny Holiday's The Fixer + Giveaway

Title: The Fixer
Series: New Wave Newsroom #1
Author: Jenny Holiday
Genre: New Adult Romance
Release Date: September 13, 2016
Length: 35k words
Format: Digital/Paperback
Digital ISBN: 978-0-9950927-1-6
Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9950927-0-9

Jenny Fields is a crusader. The editor of her college newspaper, she never met a cause she couldn’t get behind. So when the administration announces it’s tearing down the historic art building, she’s on the case All she needs to do is get Matthew Townsend, the art department’s boy wonder, on board. They say he his talent is unbounded. It turns out so is his ego.

Matthew Townsend cares about art. And that’s pretty much it. If he has a reputation for being moody and aloof, that suits him just fine. He doesn’t have a family worth speaking of, and as a scholarship student, he can’t afford to goof off like the preppy rich kids at his school. He certainly doesn’t care about the art building. Or about the relentlessly perky Jenny, who looks like she was barfed up by Rainbow Brite. What will it take to the preternaturally cheerful girl with the massive savior complex to leave him alone?
Available at: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks

“So what can I do for you, Rainbow Brite?”
“Jenny. My name is Jenny.”
I nodded, folded my second slice of pizza in half, and shoved it in my mouth.
“I’m trying to save this building,” she said, looking around the run-down studio. When I didn’t say anything, just kept eating, she added, “You’ve probably seen the editorials in the paper?”
“Or maybe you heard about the sit-in we staged?”
I shook my head.
She opened her mouth, then shut it again, as if she’d thought better about what she’d been planning to say. Her forehead furrowed so deeply above her light brown eyes that she almost looked like a cartoon. Befuddlement was actually kind of cute on her. I would have laughed if my mouth hadn’t been full.
“Well, anyway, I’m trying to get the administration to reverse its decision to tear down this building.”
I had heard about that. It wasn’t happening until the summer, and I’d be gone by then, assuming I passed the goddamn senior portfolio. “You want some?” I nodded at the pizza, realizing that since I’d finished half of it in about thirty seconds, I should probably offer her some.
“It’s a gorgeous old building.” She was clearly trying to engage me in conversation about the doomed structure.
“It’s also poorly lit and falling apart, and the ventilation sucks,” I said, partly to be contrary but partly because it was the truth. “You’re lucky I’m not working in oils, or you’d be halfway to passing out.”
“So you don’t care that this Gothic Revival masterpiece, the second-oldest building on our campus, is going to be thrown away as if it was no more than a piece of garbage?”
I helped myself to another slice—damn, that was good pizza. “That is correct.”
“So you won’t help me?”
“Help you what?”
“Save the art building.”
“That would be a no.”
She stood then—finally—her glossy pink lips pursed. She was pissed. I tried not to laugh but wasn’t quite successful. I couldn’t help it. The juxtaposition between the righteous rage and the innocent, brightly hued girl who was its source was too funny.
But I didn’t have time for funny. I didn’t have time for anything. My eyes were on the prize: graduation and then a place in Boston, where I could start showing my stuff to gallery owners or find someone who would take me on as an artist’s assistant. Or, hell, get a job flipping goddamned burgers while I looked for something better. But to do that, I needed to finish school. And to do that, I needed to maintain my focus. “Well, it’s been great chatting with you, Rainbow Brite, but I need to—”
“Everyone says you’re an artistic genius.”
It was true. But that was because everyone was blind. I would admit I had some talent, and when I arrived at Allenhurst, I might have embraced the “genius” moniker. I’d been eighteen and full of confidence. The next four years had been about having that confidence undermined as I learned about everything I didn’t know. Being self-taught before I got here meant I had zero technique and knew shit-all about the great artists of the past. Look at the painting that was currently kicking my ass, for example. I was being defeated by a goddamned phone cord. But Jenny didn’t need to know about my self-doubts. It was easier to play the part. Hopefully doing so would help me get rid of her. “Genius is such a strong word,” I drawled. “But I guess all my fans can’t be wrong.”

Excerpt Two:
It was a chaste kiss, on the surface of things. It was just her lips against my cheek, and her hands rested in her lap, for fuck’s sake. But, just like the other night, at the construction site, it was like she was filling me with lava. It ran down my throat, swirled around my chest, and then settled in my dick, where it burned hot and fierce.

She pulled away, but only slightly. “Thank you for this,” she whispered. See? This was what nice girls did. They said thank you. Then they gave you a kiss on your rough cheek.

Though she’d moved back enough to speak, she hadn’t returned to sitting upright on the bed. She stayed leaning forward, listing toward me, bracing her hands on her thighs.

I let my gaze slide over a bare neck that would make Degas weep. Across pale, unblemished shoulders. The bodice of her dress went straight across, a horizontal ruffle making a dramatic line between white skin and brilliant blue dress. It hadn’t, earlier, been showing much in the way of cleavage, but now that she was leaning forward, it had the effect of creating a gap between the ruffle and her breasts.

I couldn’t stop looking at that gap. Why didn’t she just move back? She had her cartoon. She’d deposited her perfunctory kiss. We were done here.

Weren’t we?

“I don’t want to graduate a virgin,” she whispered.

A jolt shot through my body. I could feel each rib painfully expanding as I sucked in a breath and brought my eyes up to look into hers. In contrast to the tentative tone of her last sentence, those eyes were fierce, glittering, determined. Those were the eyes of the investigative journalist she would become.

“I have a sponge in my bag,” she added, her voice catching a little.

“Oh, Rainbow Brite,” I said, though it came out sounding more like a groan. I let my head fall to my chest. I couldn’t look at her anymore. The room should have been silent then, but I swear, the blood in my ears was like thunder.

She might have spoken and I hadn’t heard her, because the next thing that happened was she moved her hands from her thighs to mine. She just laid them there, but it was nearly enough to make me black out.

I flinched. I was startled, turned on, wary…everything. Everything all at once.

“I’m sorry,” she said, snatching her hands away.

No. The protest probably started with my dick, to be honest, but it rose up through my chest and down through my legs simultaneously, spreading until it swirled throughout my whole body, propelling me toward her.

I wasn’t going to be the reason Jenny Fields was sorry.

I was also done being a goddamned monk.
More books from the New Wave Newsroom coming this fall!
The Gossip: coming Oct 4, 2016:
Pre-Order from: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks
The Pacifist: coming Oct 25, 2015:
Pre-Order from: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks

My Thoughts
Welcome back to the 80's!  The time when the sweater dress and sparkly leg warmers were in season even when it wasn't cold, MTV actually played music, and everybody still wondered if 867-5309 was an actual phone number.
The is also the domain of Rainbow Brite.  The cartoon and her namesake, Jenny Fields.  Jenny is a young woman always on the move.  If she is not set the type to rights as editor of her college newspaper, she is setting the world to rights as a crusader for justice.

This time our lady 'fixer' has her sights set on saving the historic art building on campus.  Knowing that she needs help, she enlists a rather reluctant Matthew Townsend.  Loner and art department wunderkind.
The more that she gets to know him however, Jenny comes to see that there is so much more to Matthew than his art and his ego.
Leading our newsy to believe that Matthew might just have a story that her heart has been waiting to hear.

Jenny Holiday works her story telling magic once again.  As she transports readers to back to the excitement and innocence of a bygone era.  Though this book is only 150 pages, there is no shortage of story, character development, and awesome interaction.  This first book in her New Wave Newsroom series, standing not as an exception to her brilliance.  But as yet another stellar example of her limitless creativity!

Reviewer's Notes:  This is the first book in a companion series.  As such, it may be enjoyed as a standalone, or in any reading order.
The review provided was in no way influenced by the publisher or those acting its promotion.

Jenny Holiday started writing at age nine when her awesome fourth grade teacher gave her a notebook and told her to start writing some stories. That first batch featured mass murderers on the loose, alien invasions, and hauntings. (Looking back, she’s amazed no one sent her to a kid-shrink.) She’s been writing ever since. After a brief detour to get a PhD in geography, she worked as a professional writer, producing everything from speeches to magazine articles. More recently, her tastes having evolved from alien invasions to happily-ever-afters, she tried her hand at romance. A lifelong city-lover, she lives in Toronto, Canada, with her family. She is represented by Courtney Miller-Callihan of Greenburger Associates
 You can visit her online at the following places:
 Website Facebook | Twitter Goodreads | Amazon

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