Q&A: Author Kelly Elliott
1) In just a few short years you have published dozens of books and climbed bestsellers lists. Tell us a bit about your crazy fast rise in the romance world?
Honestly, it has been a dream come true! I sometimes feel like I have to pinch myself. I’m very humbled by the success I’ve been able to achieve and do not take a second of it for granted. I think one of my favorite things has been getting to meet so many amazing readers along this journey.
2) You just started a new series with Never Enough. What can readers expect from these stories?
They can expect stores filled with love, hope, second chances, some tears, and also some laughter. Family and friends play a major role in each book and that is always important to me. My goal with each book is to give the reader a chance to escape reality for a bit while making them fall so in love with the characters they want to revisit them often!
3) This series takes place in Montana with some seriously sexy heroes—bull riders, ropers, ranchers. What makes these Alpha men that work with their hands so irresistible?
Who doesn’t love a cowboy right!? I think it is their charm and ability to make us swoon that makes them so irresistible. Of course it helps I’m married to my own cowboy so he often inspires the heroes in my books!
4) To add a little something special to the mix, your first heroine, Lincoln, comes from Georgia and practically oozes southern charm (certainly enchanting your hero as she goes). What made you decide that this H/h would work so well?
In the very beginning I knew Lincoln had to be from somewhere other than Montana. Me being a southern girl myself, it felt right for her move from a southern state and I love Georgia. In the beginning of the book we find a very different Brock and I knew I had to have a strong heroine who knew who she was and what she wanted. She had no problem confronting Brock and I loved that about her. From the very beginning I knew these two were meant to be.
5) If Brock Shaw had a song dedicated to him, it would be Katy Perry’s Hot N Cold considering the fact that his emotions about Lincoln change with the breeze. This is mainly due to his past—tell us about his journey.
Oh Brock. He gave me a bit of whiplash in the beginning of this book. LOL! He is filled with so many different emotions, guilt, anger, regret, and when Lincoln comes into his life like she does you can almost feel his struggle. He wants to move on from the past, but he honestly doesn’t think he deserves to. He used his career to bury all these emotions for years and when he is confronted with them he is really confronted. I think Lincoln was the happiness he had always longed for and it didn’t take him long to realize that. But that realization came fear, which he had to overcome.
6) Lincoln isn’t quite running away from home, but she certainly is running towards a new life. How does Brock, and his son Blayze, fit into her plans?
I don’t think Lincoln was looking for those two cowboys when she first started towards her new journey, but when they came into her world they both were piece of the puzzle she hadn’t even realized was missing. The three of them fit together so beautifully.
7) At the center of this story is loss, but also redemption. Is this a theme that we will see going throughout your Meet Me in Montana books?
I think you will see the emotions kicked up a bit with each book in the series. Book two really focuses on healing and finding that one person who is your true love. Your soulmate.
Summary
Longing to forget the pain of his wife’s death, Brock Shaw has immersed himself in the one thing that lets him escape the guilt. Bull riding. But life on the road means leaving his young son at home with his parents. They want him to give up his career and be a father to his child, but Brock needs the adrenaline to get through each day . . . or so he thinks.
Lincoln Pratt needs a fresh start. As a top interior designer in Atlanta, she has everything she could ever want, but she’s always at her father’s mercy. Something’s missing, and Lincoln knows she’ll only find it somewhere far away—like the rolling pastures of Hamilton, Montana, where she meets the irresistibly mysterious Brock.
In Brock Shaw, Lincoln sees the part of her that’s missing. In Lincoln Pratt, Brock sees the part of himself he thought he’d lost. But the pain of his past binds him. Can he let himself love again?
Excerpt
Betty Jane handed me a set of keys. “Here, these are his. Make sure he gets out of here and safely home.”
My hand instinctively took the keys, and I sat there for a few moments, stunned. When I finally realized Betty Jane was putting me in charge of getting Brock home, I jumped up and followed her over to the bar.
“Wait! Ty said you would make sure Brock got to his truck and slept it off. He didn’t say anything about making sure he got home.”
Betty Jane loaded up empty beer bottles onto her tray. It was then I looked around the bar and noticed it was almost empty.
“What time is it?” I asked, reaching for my phone. “It’s almost one!”
She laughed. “Yep, it’s been real fun watching you give dirty looks to Lee for the last hour. I figured I’d help a girl out and get rid of her for you.”
When I looked back at the table, Brock had his head on it.
Good grief. Is he sleeping?
“What do you mean, get rid of her?” I asked, still trailing behind the waitress, who honestly looked to be just a few years older than me.
She stopped and faced me. “I’ve been doing this job since I was eighteen. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that you’ve got a thing for our Brock. I can’t blame ya, really. He’s a looker. Those blue eyes and dimples. Not to mention the way the man can fill out a pair of Wranglers. Throw in he’s a professional bull rider and worth some money, and you’ve got yourself one sought-after cowboy. He doesn’t normally come in here and get drunk like this, so I’m going to guess he’s had a bad day and he’s trying to drink away his problems.
“Now, the way I see it is, he seems to be smitten with you, and you’re smitten with him. So, it only makes sense that you get him home safely. What happens after that is your business, but just know that the rest of the town will most likely find out within seventy-two hours—unless you’re discreet about it.”
I stood frozen in place. What in the world is this lady talking about?
“Okay, I didn’t really understand half of that, but you’re very wrong on one thing. Brock Shaw is not . . . smitten . . . with me. It’s really the opposite. I don’t think he can stand me.”
Betty Jane winked. “Ralph will help you get him out to his truck.”
“But . . . I . . . my . . . I’m not . . . wait!”
Placing her hand on her hip, she rolled her eyes. “Listen, I’ve got to finish cleaning up and then kick everyone out of here. Just spit it out, would ya?”
“My car! I have my car here. I can’t leave it.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about it being left here. It’s perfectly fine.”
She turned and walked away. When I called out for her again, she ignored me.
I turned around and walked back over to the table to find a sleeping Brock. Burying my face in my hands, I mumbled, “Oh my God! Why me?” Poking his shoulder, I said, “Brock! Brock, wake up!”
His head popped up, and I let out a little yelp.
He turned to look at me, and instead of frowning, he smiled for once. “Hey, pretty little thing.”
He’s so drunk he doesn’t even know who I am.
“Um, hey. Listen, I need to get you home, so could you maybe stand and walk out to your truck?”
Brock smiled bigger, and his dimples seemed to scream out at me.
Oh. Holy. Hell.
This guy was beyond good looking. I mean, I didn’t think I’d ever seen a guy smile and look so damn sexy, despite his highly intoxicated state. Even with his cowboy hat all crooked, he looked handsome as hell.
“I can stand,” he grumbled out as he slowly stood.
I slipped my arm around his waist. After doing a quick scan of the table, I reached behind me and felt for my phone. I had my license and credit card tucked into my phone case, and I had my keys in my pocket.
“Okay, let’s get you to your truck.”
His head dropped forward, and I was pretty sure he was falling back asleep.
“Brock!” I shouted, making his head jerk up. “Walk to the door.”
“What do you adore?” he asked, taking a few stumbling steps next to me as I guided him.
I chuckled. “No, I said, walk to the door!”
“I am walking to the door, woman!”
With a roll of my eyes, I focused on keeping this man upright. It wasn’t an easy task. His stocky frame was heavy. With the way my arm was around him, I couldn’t help but notice his muscles flexing as we walked . . . no, stumbled along. I let my silly mind wander to what he would look like without a shirt on.
Stop it right now, Lincoln Pratt!
Betty Jane opened the door for us and winked at me yet again as I walked by. “Have a good night, and don’t worry about your car!”
I mumbled under my breath about being set up and then stepped out into the cool night. A shiver ran up my spine as I searched the parking lot. I’d only seen Brock’s truck once, and the only thing I remembered was that it was silver.
“Where’s your truck?” I asked, glancing at three trucks still parked in the lot.
Brock lifted his head and looked around. “My truck is the best damn truck in the parking lot.”
“That doesn’t help, Shaw. What’s your license plate number?”
Brock turned, his big, drunk blue eyes gazing down at me. “You want my number, Lincoln? I thought you didn’t like me.”
My mouth dropped open. “Um, excuse me, but you’re the one who’s been shooting daggers at me all night long. Not to mention how rude you were to me earlier today.”
“You didn’t catch me at my best, sweetheart.”
My stomach dipped at the endearment. No one had ever called me anything like that. Not baby, babe, sweetie, or sweetheart. I was always just Lincoln. Every guy I’d ever dated called me by my first name. Even in bed, I was always Lincoln.
It pissed me off how much I liked hearing that come from Brock’s mouth. I liked it a lot . . . more than a lot.
Damn it. What is it about this guy?
“I didn’t ask you for your phone number, you drunk fool. Your license plate number on your truck.”
He frowned. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know the license plate on your own truck?”
“Nope!” he said, popping the p in the most adorable way.
I found myself smiling up at him.
“It’s the silver one on the far right!” Betty Jane called out.
I looked behind me, almost losing my grip on Brock. “And I don’t suppose you’d help me get him there . . . or Ralph, maybe?”
She laughed. She actually laughed before turning and walking back into the bar.
“Thanks for nothing,” I grumbled as I guided Brock over to the truck.
About the Author
