by HelenKay Dimon

As you read along in a book do you ever wonder how the author came up with the story? People ask me that sort of thing all the time. Since my first novella, Hardhats and Silk Stockings from the April 2006 anthology When Good Things Happen To Bad Boys, spends a good deal of time with the hero naked and handcuffed to the ceiling, I’ve generally tried to avoid this question over the least few months. With Viva Las Bad Boys! the answer is a bit easier and comes with less potential for embarrassment.

The first novella, Jackpot, begins like this:

“Feeling lucky?”

Jack MacAllister smiled at his companion of one hour. “I’m not a great believer in luck.”

“Better not let the Vegas tourism folks hear you say that or you’ll have a date with a bus going straight out of town.”

Actually, his only date for the evening had been a blackjack table. Until she sat down. A sexy blonde blessed with a sweet round face and the husky voice of a telephone sex operator. The same woman wearing a big white wedding dress.

A rule probably existed somewhere that said harmless flirting was not so harmless if the woman in question happened to be a bride. Someone else’s that is. But he wasn’t ready to believe this one even was a bride. Something about this lady’s story didn’t fit. The attitude, the lack of excitement. The absence of a groom…

If she weren’t so damn sexy, he’d run for cover in any direction that included a bar. But that wasn’t happening.

This beginning of a romance novella started in an unlikely place – at a slot machine at Bellagio in Las Vegas. There I sat, hand on the Spin button and twenty dollars in the Wheel Of Fortune machine, drinking my free club soda and wondering if the coffee place was still open, and a bride sat down next to me. She dragged on a cigarette, drank from her beer bottle and…was alone. We chatted. Her new groom roamed about somewhere, but she didn’t know where. Somehow from that memory I came up with the start of a romance novella. The mind works in mysterious ways, I guess.

Of course, a bride and a slot machine wouldn’t hold up for the necessary number of book pages, so I searched for other Las Vegas memories. It didn’t take long for me to come up with the Bellagio Blackout – four days in April 2004 when the lights went out due to a construction mishap.

The hotel went dark.

The beautiful fountains stopped working and the casino action ceased.

Me? I went to the pool.

So, with the backdrop of a Bellagio-like hotel in a blackout, I had my start. Little pieces and interests filled in the rest. For example, Food Channel host Dave Lieberman popped into my mind. I’ve always had a bit of a crush on his boyish cuteness and ability to cook. For the second novella, Player’s Club, I wanted a chef with a reputation with the ladies. The result was Zach, my playboy chef:

“Just as I thought.” An annoying tsk-tsking sound followed the comment. “We have a good deal of work ahead of us.”

At the sound of the bored female voice, Zach Jacobs stopped what he was doing, which happened to be lying on his desk on top of the hottest blonde waitress on the Las Vegas Strip. His companion wore the Berkley Hotel and Casino cocktail uniform like a second skin. She also made it clear not ten minutes before that he had a green light for action, all he had to do was drive on through.

Then the nasty traffic cop entered the room.

The same one standing at his door clicking her tongue against her teeth, creating one of the most annoying sounds on the planet. The one talking to him, and not in the good way. The one most decidedly not screaming his name out in ecstasy, despite his every effort to the contrary.

Jenna Barrister. Erection killer.

Honestly, I can’t remember where the third novella, Two of a Kind, came from no matter how many times I try. But, you get the point. It all comes form somewhere and sometimes from the most unlikeliest of places.

Join in on the discussion below and you can win a signed copy of Viva Las Bad Boys! You know, just in case you want to read the rest of the novellas. Good Luck!