Romance Billionaires: yes or no? by Alana Lorens

Welcome back, Alana! Always a pleasure to have you visit my little corner of the web.

Alana Lorens (aka Barbara Mountjoy) has been a published writer for over 45 years, including seven years as a reporter and editor at the South Dade News Leader in Homestead, Florida. She writes non-fiction, romance, adventure, and suspsense novels. She is the author of the Pittsburgh Lady Lawyers series, which draws on her years as a family law attorney in the state of Pennsylvania. One of the causes close to her heart came from those years as well–the fight against domestic violence. She volunteered for many years at women’s shelters and provided free legal services to women and children in need. Alana resides in North Carolina, and she loves her time in the smoky blue mountains. She lives with her daughter, who is the youngest of her seven children, and five crotchety cats.

So do tell us (because curious minds want to know), why does it seem that so many romance stories are written about billionaire heroes?

I mean, sure, we’d all like to marry a billionaire, I suppose. (I did have a friend who married an honest-to-god millionaire once; it still didn’t give her a happy ending.) Money is nice if you want to have all the things, but the old saying is true: it can’t buy you love.

While it’s true that I can’t write about those men, because I know nothing about how they are—And one should write what you know—I really prefer to write stories about real kinds of people. Lawyers. Cops. Veterans. Autistic kids. Singers. Bloggers. Environmentalists. Even guys in drug store management. These are people we can relate to on common ground. I suppose their limited budgets and need to show up at work every day may not be as exciting as discovering a hidden pleasure room or jetting off to Italy on a whim…but I’m happy to find love for them on any level.

What do you think? Do you like reading about real people or do you want to experience only the fantasy?

(note from Jean: I am all with you, Alana! I prefer a regular ol’ Joe hero).

Up-and-coming mommy-blogger and single mom Marisol Herrera Slade returns to her old hometown in western Pennsylvania for her 20th high school reunion in 2005, reluctant and yet compelled to see her high school sweetheart, Russell Asher, who dumped her for the homecoming queen.

Russell's marriage to the golden girl, however, ended in a nasty divorce, and he has been systematically excluded from his sons' lives. In his Internet wanderings, he's found feminist blogger named Jerrika Jones, who glorifies single motherhood, essentially putting a stamp of approval on what's happened to him. His group of single dad advocates have vowed to take this woman down.

What Russell doesn't know, when he thinks to rekindle what he had with Marisol, is that Marisol and Jerrika are one and the same. When his group discovers the truth, will their drive for revenge derail any chance the couple have to reunite? Or will they find they have more in common than they ever expected?

Find A Rose by Any Other Name online:

Amazon ~ Kobo ~ Barnes & Noble ~ Walmart

 Speed-dating round:

Oxford comma, yes or no?  Nope.

What does your desk look like? 

It’s my official work place for everything from writing to grocery lists to mending socks to a place for one (or more) of nine cats to nap. So it’s…indescribable…most of the time.

In an alternate reality, what would be your dream job (besides author)?

Actually, I’ve been fortunate to have it in this reality—while I was a practicing family law attorney, I had a Department of Justice-funded program that provided civil law remedies to low-income survivors of domestic violence. Through this program we were able to help a number of men and women escape hellish situations. It was very, very satisfying.

Beach, lake, or mountains?

We’re in Asheville now, in the heart of the Blue Ridge. It’s beautiful, and having mountains on all sides is fabulous. I used to live in Missoula, Montana—now THOSE are mountains.  On the other hand, I also lived in south Florida for a dozen or so years, just a handful of miles from the Florida Keys. So I’ve kind of had it all!

If you could meet one famous person, living or dead, who would it be?

Robin Williams. I would make him a cuppa, and give him a hug and tell him we understand, and he would be okay.


Now a bit more about the A Rose by Any Other Name:

An Excerpt ~

She started for the Sweet Spot coffee shop across the street, but hesitated when a silver Lexus squealed a U-turn in the center of Main, screeching to a stop and blocking her little rental there in its parking place. The door flew open, practically ejecting a tall, well-built man in jeans and a blue cotton shirt. His full attention focused on the vehicle in front of Marisol’s. 

She couldn’t move as she belatedly recognized his large dark eyes and something in the piqued set of his jaw. 

Russell Asher.

 His hair wasn’t as solidly black as she’d remembered from the summer she left town. The jeans, no longer slim cut, though he wasn’t overweight. But it was him. 

Nausea tumbled like panicked butterflies in her stomach. One hand slipped to her middle, almost trying to reassure her insides not to make her throw up right here. She never expected a sudden confrontation. She hadn’t prepared. But as she watched him, she saw she didn’t need to worry. He wasn’t interested in her in the least. 

He marched over to the SUV and parked himself against its shiny fender. After several tries, she forced her feet to move, at least far enough to retreat inside the gazebo. She sat on the interior edge of the fence, half hidden behind a painted support beam, the shade from the maples overhead helping to conceal her. She couldn’t help it. She could have walked away, just left her vehicle and come back for it later, but the situation was a car wreck waiting to happen. She could tell by the tension in his shoulders and his hands, clenched into fists. No way she would miss whatever occurred next. 

Soon after, Tiffany and the boys, one of whom looked about Mark’s age, one a little younger, returned from the shop. Tiffany, thin to the point of anorexia, stopped several yards from her car when she saw Russell there. The boys hung back behind their mother, affecting bored poses of crossed arms and blank skyward stares. “What do you want, Rusty?” Her voice carried clearly to the gazebo. 

“To say hello to Jon and Barret. Since you haven’t let them come see me for the last three months.” He didn’t move off the car. “Hey, boys, come give your old dad a hug, hmm?”

 The boys mumbled something Marisol couldn’t hear. If anything, they retreated toward the store, and finally the younger of the two, who looked maybe fifteen, bolted, heading back inside. 

“That’s fabulous, Tiffy, just fabulous. What a great mother you are. So much for what our order says, right? That we’re supposed to encourage the children to love and honor the other parent?”

 “What have you done worth honoring? Hmm?”


Find Alana Lorens online: