THE DIRTY ONES

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THE DIRTY ONES Page 28

by JA Huss


  Some places, some things, some people… are just PRETTY. And this book is one of those things.

  I loved the imagery in this book most of all but Kiera came in a close second. Kiera and her notebooks. Kiera and her writing. Kiera and her cottage and her slipper-boots and the way she doesn’t brush her wild hair. Kiera with the no-color eyes. Kiera and her butterflies. Kiera, the secret to the whole mystery.

  Camille was actually the surprise hit for me. I sorta fell in love with her obnoxious attitude, and so even though I sacrificed her in the end I gave her a sweet send off.

  I was also really digging on Hayes. He’s a little bit “Ford”, isn’t he? I tossed around the idea of dragging this shit out for at least one more book and giving Hayes a story, but nah. Let’s let the guy be happy, shall we?

  Sofia was soft in my mind. Soft, and girly, and overflowing with “potential”. Like Blair on Gossip Girl, only less of a bitch. (I love Blair, BTW. She’s my favorite GG character. She and Chuck made the perfect template for Sofia and Hayes)

  Connor was just… a normal dude, I think. Not the Alpha, like Hayes. Not the logical one, like Bennett. Just a guy who was born “this man” and was trying to deal with all the unexpected ambivalence and disappointment he felt, even though he had no right to feel that way.

  I, for one, think everyone is allowed to feel what they feel, regardless of what station in life they were born into. So the guy had everything and wasn’t happy? Anyone who can’t relate to inner turmoil can go fuck themselves. Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not allowed to be disappointed in what you have. That’s what makes people strive to do more. Telling someone to feel satisfied is just a recipe for “average” if you ask me.

  Grateful, thankful—these two things have nothing to do with satisfaction. Sure, I’m grateful for a lot of things. But if I was “satisfied” I’d never have started writing. If I was “satisfied” I’d quit while I was ahead. I sure as fuck wouldn’t be taking risks with Johnathan McClain by trying to sell a TV series right before I hit my fiftieth year on this earth.

  But this book is also about the illusion inside us. It’s about how memory is an unreliable thing. How events shape you and cling to you, long after they’re over. It’s about facing your demons, standing your ground, and then pushing forward.

  What part of the story was real and what part was fantasy? Did they really have all that sex?

  I dunno. If you think they did, then they did.

  Because in the end it doesn’t really matter. Illusion, or delusion, or reality… what difference does it make? When you read a story, and the story is good, you buy into it. You believe it. You live it with me, and my characters, and my sweaty hot-hell-dude daemon.

  We went to all these places together. We got stuck in that blizzard, we flew in that helicopter, we landed on that lawn, we fucked in the third-floor library bedroom, we ate dinner at that ridiculous table, and we got lost in that mansion.

  The mansion was my favorite scene. Specifically the one where Connor gets lost. I just can’t relate to a house that is so big you can get lost. But some people live like this, ya know? And isn’t it cool that you and I got to live it a little too?

  This is why I love writing. My crazy mind comes up with all these fantasies—things you and I both know aren’t true—and we disappear into these worlds, and become friends with these characters, and live their lives for a little bit.

  So which part is real?

  When you figure that out, let me know. Because in my mind they’re all real. Ask any of my Rook & Ronin superfans why they love that series and they’re gonna say “Ford!” or “Veronica!” or “Spencer!” Or whoever. They become them. Well, I bring them to life first, then you become them, and then… the most miraculous thing happens…

  In our heads we’re part of the same world. We live the same lives. We experience the same emotions, fight the same fights, lose and win together. And in my books, we also—somehow, against all odds—fall in love by the time it’s over.

  It’s fucking ridiculous and spectacular at the same time. That stories pull us together like this. Isn’t it?

  I am more Kiera than I’d like to admit. I too look at people on the street and make up stories about them. I can whip up an entire history for a person as I stand in line at the grocery store. I’ve been doing this for as long as I remember. And even though I say I never wanted to be a writer—I have always been a writer. I just wrote those stories in my brain instead of putting them down on paper.

  I remember writing three things as a child.

  One, a short story about a horse named Ruby who get separated from her mother and chained to a stall in a barn. Lol. Even at age eight I was writing dark shit, right!? haha It was called The Fastest Horse. I illustrated it too. Because I wasn’t a writer, I was an illustrator. I only wrote the story to match my pictures.

  The second thing I wrote in 6th grade. It was some dark, twisted horror story that ended up being like five pages. Which is a lot for a sixth grader. And I remember my teacher, Mrs. Sowards, taking me aside and telling me, “Julie, that is some story. Where did you get that idea?”

  I said something like, “I dunno. It just came out.” And that was the end of that conversation.

  The third thing I wrote was an opening paragraph in seventh grade. Just an opening paragraph. That was the assignment so that’s all I did because by this time I was one of the “cool kids”. I did homework to get the grade, but I gave no shits about it.

  So anyway, I wrote this opening paragraph and when my English teacher, Mrs. Ledale, handed them all back, I didn’t get mine. I was just about to raise my hand and ask for my shit back when she started reading it out loud. She finished, walked over to my desk (I had to sit in back at one of the “idiot desks” honest to God, that’s what she called them. I actually had an idiot table because she ran out of extra desks. Three of us had idiot desks and I was one of them.) So she puts it down on my table, looks at me, and tells the whole class, “Now that is how you start a story.” She asked me if I was gonna finish it, but I said, “Nah. I’m not into writing.”

  Those are the three pieces of fiction I wrote before I woke up one day and decided to write books when I was 42 years old. I wrote lots of non-fiction though. Hell, I pulled a Master’s thesis out of my ass over a long weekend. :) 49 citations, bitches. I don’t even remember what I titled it. Something about microbial forensics and in it I accused the FBI of covering up the infamous anthrax scare after 911. Good enough to graduate, so hey. Whatever. I sit at the idiot table, remember?

  But my point is… stories. Everyone has them. Every time I scroll through my Facebook timeline I stop on those America’s Got Talent or Britain’s Got Talent posts to watch. Not because I want to hear these nobodies sing, but because I want to hear their story. Simon and I both want to know how the hell a pediatric nurse with six foster kids got to be up on this stage with a voice that earns him the golden buzzer.

  And you know how they did it? Because they weren’t satisfied. Sure, they were grateful and they were thankful. But it’s another thing entirely to be satisfied.

  Well, that’s it for this story. I have two more books I “could” write that go with it. Not a series and not quite a spin-off. Something I don’t really have a name for yet. But I’m gonna wait until that hot, shirtless hell-dude comes back to tell me what to write. So you might have to hang out for those a while. The guy is kind of an asshole.

  But in the mean time I got this here book up on pre-order for February called In To Her. Take a look, and if you like what you see, go ahead and click that pre-order button, OK?

  Thank you for reading, thank you for reviewing, and I’ll see you in the next book.

  Also, God bless Mrs. Sowards and Mrs. Ledale. Those bitches made me who I am. Maybe that’s good, maybe that’s bad, but regardless, they left their mark and I am grateful. Not satisfied yet, but grateful.

  Julie

  About the Author

  Find Juli
e at her website www.JAHuss.com

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  JA Huss is the New York Times Bestselling author of 321 and has been on the USA Today Bestseller’s list 21 times in the past four years. She writes characters with heart, plots with twists, and perfect endings.

  Her books have sold millions of copies all over the world, the audio version of her semi-autobiographical book, Eighteen, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award and an Audie Award in 2016 and 2017 respectively, her audiobook, Mr. Perfect, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award in 2017, and her audiobook, Taking Turns, was nominated for an Audie Award and Voice Arts Award in 2018. In May 2018 MGM Television optioned five of her books (Slack, Guns, Come, Come Back, and Coming For You – collectively called THE COMPANY) for a TV Series. She and Johnathan are partners in that TV series project — in fact, they started out writing the teleplay for The Company and soon after found themselves writing novels together too.

  Johnathan McClain is her first (and only) writing partner and even though they are worlds apart in just about every way imaginable, it works.

  She lives on a ranch in Central Colorado with her family.

 

 

 


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