Exclusive interview with Blake Teesdale from Rewrites of the Heart #paranormalromcom #bookboost
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  • N. N. Light
    • Oct 6, 2023
    • 8 min read

Exclusive interview with Blake Teesdale from Rewrites of the Heart #paranormalromcom #bookboost



Bloody good to be with you today. I’m Blake Teesdale. You may know me from Rewrites of the Heart by Terry Newman.


That’s the story of JJ Spritely, historian turned romance author. JJ is busy writing my love story with Alex Zurich. Frankly, she’s so invested in us, she’s neglecting her own love life. So we leap out of the pages of our world to help her write her own love story. She’s quite surprised by our appearance in her home office, by the way.


Now, I know this appears to defy the laws of physics, us jumping out of our own book, but I can explain that—


What, Alex? You’re right. They can read my explanation in the book if they’re that curious. I know. I need to focus. Thanks, love.


As I was saying, I’m the British boyfriend of Alex in JJ’s work in progress, Love’s Surprise. I’m the one in the story with the unruliest of black hair. And I’m the one who thinks up ways for Alex and myself to get back to the pages of our book. You see, once we jump into the real world, we’re unable to get back to the pages of our own story. In retrospect, the bubble bath method may not have been my best idea. JJ got bloody mad. Sorry, JJ.


My most important role, though, in JJ’s story is to support Alex who is doing everything she can to get JJ together with Dr. Kennedy King Cooper. JJ’s unaware of it, but that man is her true love.


So, we were justified in our part of the scheme to get her teaching with the man—forced proximity and all.


What, Alex? Questions? Our readers have questions for me? Yes, I would know that had I stopped to think. Thanks again, love.


Well, what kind of questions do you have for me?



Any perfect happiness would have the beautiful Alex Zurich by the side. But if I could live in a well-stocked library that smells of old books. It would be stuffed with fiction, of course, but it would have a tremendous collection of nonfiction books on a wide variety of topics. I would have enough books for the rest of my life without leaving my love.



I wish I could state honestly that I never lie, but…


On our most recent trip into the real world (you’ll get to read all about that next year with any luck), I find myself fibbing to Alex. The feeling in my stomach as I lied to her is not something I wish to go through again. Even though I may have, well, I prefer to say I misled, her, I do love her. That’s the reason, come to think of it, that I did mislead her. Shakespeare said, “Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.” That is such a—


What, Alex? You’re right, love. They don’t care.


On to the next question, please.



My hair, without a doubt. As I stated earlier, it’s unruly. It’s a mop of waves that seem to have a life of its own. When I run, it bounces all over. When I nod, it moves ever so slightly. And on those few times when I dance…well, you can imagine what it looks like. But it’s not all bad, Alex loves it.



I would love to be able to paint, to create stunning images just as Vincent Van Gogh and Claude Monet did. I adore the contrasting colors Van Gogh used. Did you know he studied…


You’re right, Alex. Now is not the time to talk about Van Gogh and the color wheel.


Next question, please. (She really does love me, by the way.)



I’m not sure, but I can tell you what I wouldn’t change about myself. My name. And allow me to tell you how I know. Our story went to an editor once—an overworked editor. This person confused our story with another they were editing, a cowboy tale. For about two weeks, Alex kept calling me Jake. And she had to physically restrain me from buying a horse. It was close.


Well, let’s just say I was glad to have my own name back when JJ discovered the mistake. Thanks, JJ. I think my name fits me perfectly.


Who are your favorite writers?


Being British, I have to say William Shakespeare. He knew human nature well. Not only are his plays timeless, but they’re the basis for so many contemporary plots. If we’re talking the other side of the pond, then I must say Ralph Waldo Emerson. Much of his writing are words to live by.


And if we’re talking today’s authors, well, let’s give a hand to my creator, JJ Spritely, romance writer extraordinaire, who gave me my love story.


Thank you, Blake, for the interview. It was quite the experience. *chuckles* Readers, want to know more about Blake, Alex, and author JJ? Scroll down to read more…



Title Rewrites of the Heart

Author Terry Newman

Genre Paranormal romcom

Publisher The Wild Rose Press


Book Blurb


JJ Spritely, romance author, writes characters that jump off the page. Figuratively, that is. She never expects them to make a literal leap off the page and smack dab into her world. But Alex Zurich and Blake Teesdale do just that. And they’re on a mission to help JJ write her own personal love story with a man she recently met, Kennedy King Cooper.


A history professor, Cooper doesn’t see the value of romance novels and he has even less regard for those who write them. Until he meets a woman who haunts his thoughts.


There’s only one small snag in Alex’s and Blake’s plan…okay…two rather large snags. JJ wants nothing to do with Cooper. The other snag? Alex and Blake aren’t able to return to the pages of their own book.


Will JJ ever write her own love story? And will it be with Cooper? Will Alex and Blake return to the pages of their own book?


Excerpt


Alex heard the shower running. Then it stopped. “We’re off to see the…” Blake’s singing grated through the air, like fingernails on a chalkboard.


She was already dressed, and in place. And impatient. Finally, he emerged from the bathroom with only a towel around him. His head bobbed as he skipped down the hall, his wet hair splashing drops of water like a dog shaking his whole body when it’s wet.


“What is taking so long?” she asked.


“It takes time for me to beautify, baby.”


She closed her eyes and shook her head. He continued his skipping and headed for JJ’s bedroom.


“I’ll be all dressed in just a second, love,” he called as he closed the door.


While she waited for him to emerge from the bedroom, she alternatively paced, adjusted her—well, actually JJ’s—white dress, and nervously ran her fingers through her hair.


She finally sat on the couch a moment, quickly removed the red pumps, and rubbed her feet. JJ’s feet were several sizes smaller than hers. Then, she thought of poor Blake. He had even larger feet. How would he…? She was putting her shoes back on when she heard the bedroom door open.


“Oh, Alex,” he chimed. “I’m ready. And I’m coming out.”


And with that Alex heard the clicks of the heels on the hardwood hallway. “Damn it!” Click. “Bloody heels.” Click. “How do you women wear these things?” Click. “Oh, my aching back!”


His voice grew louder till he reached the living room where she was standing expectantly. She couldn’t believe what she saw. Standing in front of her was the man she loved, dressed nearly exactly as she was. The white dress was barely long enough to cover even a small fraction of his thighs his feet were stuffed into a pair of red stiletto heels


“Love,” he said grimacing through his pain, “does this outfit make me look fat?”


She merely shook her head. Then she noticed something even more bizarre about him.


“Are those pantyhose you’re wearing?”


“Yeah, but they barely come to my waist. I never realized how short JJ was till I put on her pantyhose.”


She doubled over in laughter. He appeared so sincere yet looked so ridiculous. “Uhm, dear, do you know how short that dress is on you?”


“Hey, it’s not my fault. It’s not like I was shopping at Harrods. JJ had two white dresses in her closet, and you picked the better of the two. My choices were limited.”


He turned his back to her. “Look, I can’t even button this bloody thing.” At the sight of the open white dress against his hairy back, she laughed uncontrollably.


“What’s so funny?” he asked, as he planted his hands on his hips. “You get to wear the good Dorothy dress. I’m stuck with this.” He looked down at his apparel.


“I just want to make sure we have every detail in place, just in case it’s not the ruby slippers that actually work the magic.” He took a deep breath and held out his hand.


“Now could we get on with this please? I think these pantyhose are strangling my manhood.”


They held hands, closed their eyes, and clicked their heels together. Secretly, Alex prayed the red-heeled shoes would be a good enough substitute for the ruby slippers.


“Okay, at the count of three,” Blake instructed. Alex nodded. “One, two, three. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.” When they opened their eyes, they were still standing in JJ’s living room.


“Let’s try it one more time,” Blake urged, “just in case the Universe was busy doing something else and wasn’t listening.” Disappointed and on the verge of tears, she slowly nodded her assent.


They had resumed their stance and held hands when she heard JJ walk in through the back door. As the writer entered the living room, she asked, “What in the world is going on? Blake, is that you in that dress?”


The sharpness of JJ’s voice sparked the flood of tears Alex had tried to hold back. She was so frustrated. She only wanted to return to her world, check on her cat, and make sure that pot of soup she had started hadn’t boiled over. She didn’t believe JJ when she said she took care of it for her.


Blake turned around, smiling. “We watched—”


“I know exactly what movie you watched and it’s time the male Dorothy gets out of that outfit.”


Blake harrumphed an unintelligible reply and clomped clumsily to the bedroom, slamming the door loudly. Then from behind the door, he said, “And to think, I shaved my legs for this.”


Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub)









Author Biography



I’ve spent most of my adult life writing in some fashion, from small-town reporter, to editor-in-chief and ghostwriter for a national natural health publishing firm. The last decade and a half I’ve worked as a freelance writer, penning ebooks that range from how to start a doula services business to Native American herbs.


I’ve finally took the plunge to fiction after having many doubts. I pushed the doubts aside. My first novel with The Wild Rose Press, Heartquake, won a 4.5 crowned heart review with Ind’tale Magazine.


All my books are set in fictional towns in northeast Ohio, where I grew up, and I write about things I love—like coffee. I’ve taught workshops on writing and character development.


I have a daughter, a son-in-law, and a grandpuppy and live in North Lima, a real town in northeast Ohio with all my characters. Yes, it does get crowded.


Social Media Links


X (formerlyTwitter): https://twitter.com/tnewmanwrites

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