Isn't hope in some form our best-case scenario? ➱ The Nyra Westensee Series New Adult Romance by D.B. Sayers Book Series Tour with Guest Post and giveaway
Isn't hope in some form our best-case scenario?
Best Case Scenario: Act I of Nyra's Journey
The Nyra Westensee Series Book 1
by D.B. Sayers
Genre: New Adult Romance
Isn't hope in some form our best-case scenario?
More than a year after graduating from college, Nyra is beginning to wonder when her life, professional and personal, gets started. Was it like this for her mother? She doubts it, but things were different, then.
Nyra's reality is nothing like her mother's. Each generation confronts its own challenges. Still, she's tired of feeling like she's wading through waist-deep wet cement. Buried somewhere deep in a future she can sense but not feel, Nyra can hear the siren's song of hope and hypothetical options whispering to her. She's so ready! But is the song she hears hope or just an illusion?
Best Case Scenario is the first act in Nyra Westensee's journey from student to self-aware, fully actualized woman.
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The Year of Maybe: Act II of Nyra's Journey
The Nyra Westensee Series Book 2
He’s nothing like
her hopeful dream—and everything she
wants.
Nyra’s transition from college grad scrambling
for her first career job to full independence is as on track as it
can be, these days. With her new marketing job is going well, even if
she’s still living at home,Nyra’s pretty sure the light at the
end of the tunnel is not an onrushing train.
Still, she
gets bored, sometimes. A whimsical decision to take up surfing brings
her together with Tai Abrega, a professional surfer and shaper so
delicious Nyra’s imagination hasn’t even gotten around to
fantasizing about a man like him, yet. Surfing awakens a latent,
mystical connection with the sea along with a driven passion for the
man himself.
But embracing one possibility often demands
abandoning another. How can Nyra fit Tai and the seductive siren song
of freedom into her “safer” vision of perfect? Can she blend her
conventional world with his freespirited lifestyle, or is she doomed
to disappointment and heartbreak? New Adult fans of It
Ends with Us and Finding
Perfect are
sure to enjoy this upbeat tale of hope.
The
Year of Maybe Act II of Nyra’s Journey continues
the story begun in Best-Case
Scenario.
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{10}
Splashes of midday sun dapple the stairs retreating
down and westward, shaded by a thick green archway of Eucalyptus, Bougainvillea
and Hibiscus. “Steep,” Toni observes.
The sign reads, Coastal Access. Open to the Public—Thousand Steps Beach. “It’s not
as bad as it looks,” Nyra assures her. “And it isn’t really a thousand
steps…more like three hundred and some. It just feels like a thousand sometimes,
especially on the way back
out but—”
“Great,” Toni says. “There’s no easier
way?”
“Not unless you have a boat,” Nyra
admits. “Sorry.”
“I get it. Payback for riding your ass on
interviewing for the past few weeks, right?”
“No…really!” Nyra shrugs.
“And it’ll be way worth it.”
“Better be.” Toni pulls her
sunglasses down to give Nyra the benefit of her best stink eye, tempered with a
smile.
“Promise. Come on.”
Toni grabs Nyra’s hand to
stop her. “And you keep your promises, right?”
Nyra’s heart races and she
squeezes Toni’s hand. “Come on,” she repeats. “Minus 3.2 low tide,
this afternoon. The caves should be mostly dry.”
The whole way down, Nyra is
acutely aware of Toni’s eyes caressing her from the side and the warmth of her
hand. Twice on the way down, the tickle of a low-hanging branch makes her
shiver. Fear, anticipation…both?
Near the bottom, they break
into sunlight winking back at them, staining the translucent waves an elusive tourmaline. Strands of kelp
mark the last high tide line in the sand.
Nyra stops at the bottom of
the stairs, shrugs out of her Camelbak, and sheds her sweatpants, revealing
bikini bottoms. “We’re sure to get wet somewhere,” she explains. “Either in the
caves or the tide pools.”
She glances at Toni’s navy-blue Capris. “Those may salt stain. I brought an
extra pair of shorts you can wear if—”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” Nyra takes a deep drink from the
Camelbak and offers it to Toni. She takes a tentative sip, then a deeper one.
“Tastes like pomegranate.”
“My brother Kip used to get
on my case about not drinking enough when we were out hiking or at the beach.”
Nyra shrugs. “But I can’t stand drinking plain water,
especially after it gets warm. So I started adding ice cubes and flavoring.”
Toni smiles. “Great idea!”
As they poke around in the
tide pools, Nyra points out black and wavy top Turbans, Sea Anemone, Limpets
and a startled Shore Crab, scuttling across partially submerged rocks. The
tide’s low enough to clamor around in the exposed caves, worn smooth by wave
erosion in some places, rough with barnacles in others. Where boulders are
perennially awash, moss clings to them and the air is humid with the organic
scent of life.
“I’ve lived in South Bay almost ten years,” Toni says. “And
I had no idea this was even here. I thought you had to go up the coast to find
places like this.” Her eyes meet Nyra’s and she moves closer. “Thanks for
sharing this with me.”
“My pleasure.” Toni is so close Nyra can
feel her warmth. Even in the subdued light of the cave, she feels the pull of
her eyes. Nyra’s stomach spasms as Toni’s hands slide to her waist. She looks
up, offering lips that tremble when Toni’s find hers. She kisses back,
tentatively, then insistently.
Apprehension morphs into desire, spiking
Nyra’s blood with excitement as she welcomes the slow, sensual probe of Toni’s
tongue. Nyra’s hands, as though with a will of their own, slide to Toni’s hips,
pulling her closer. Her thoughts swim to the caress of Toni’s ripe, sweet
mouth. She can feel herself opening up and she uses her residual
fear like a whip, driving herself past her doubts. The cave’s shelter dampens
their senses and the passage of time. Even the subtle irritant of the rough
cave walls digging into Nyra’s back can’t distract her, until the
sound of water sluicing into the cave brings them back to the present.
A thrill of apprehension mixed with
frustration focuses Nyra’s attention on the hammering of her heart. “We should
probably go,” she says. “Tide’s started back in. And…the walk up always feels
longer than the walk down.”
The sun is staining the clouds on the
horizon with golden light as they exit the cave. A wave slaps them with a rush
of knee-deep cold water, before it recedes. Nyra hardly notices.
The hint of summer heat
in the afternoon sun persists, even as it sinks low. It stains the ocean a
dazzling electrum and quicksilver through the hazy marine layer on the horizon,
making Nyra squint.
What
little wind there is meanders aimlessly from north-northwest, to
north-northeast, but it’s never blown hard enough to affect wave shape. As a
result, Nyra and Tai have been surfing waist to head-high waves most of the
afternoon.
“Let’s
call it a day,” Tai says. “Tide’s headed back in and it’s getting mushy,
anyway.”
Nyra
nods and they catch their last wave, proning out in the soup. Nyra picks up the
shorter board Tai has loaned her and tucks it under her arm. On the hike back
to Tai’s truck, they walk so close together, Nyra imagines she can feel his
warmth. The accidental brush of his shoulder sends a little shiver of
excitement racing up her arm.
“It’s
a rush, isn’t it?” Tai asks. “How do you like the shorter board?”
“I
love it,” Nyra says, wondering if he means more than he’s saying. She decides
to play it safe. “It’s so much more responsive than the nose rider.”
“You
were shredding.” Tai eyes Nyra sidelong through a curtain of hair hanging into
his eyes.
“Riiight.”
Nyra shifts her grip on his board. “It’s easier to ride faster waves, though.”
“It
is,” Tai agrees. “A little more juice always helps.”
Nyra
flashes Tai a quizzical look. “Are you trying to make me feel better? I
wouldn’t have thought you would call those waves juicy.”
Tai’s
toothy grin displays perfect pearly whites contrasting with his dark skin.
“Well, it’s not like Rocky Point,” he says, “but compared to Old Man’s?”
Nyra
nods. “How would it compare to Trestles?” “Trestles is a little faster.” He
squints, turns, and looks back up the beach at Lower Trestles. “Depending on
swell direction, it can be a lot faster, especially on a big southwest.” Nyra
turns with him and looks back up the beach.
“Interested
in trying it?” Tai asks.
“Someday.”
At
his truck, Tai turns his back and Nyra unzips his spring suit for him. She
turns for his help with her own, purchased just last week to help with the
chilly waters from an unseasonal upwelling. He unlocks his camper shell and
tosses her a towel from the back of his truck.
“What
did you call that place we surfed today?”
“Dog
patch.” Tai takes the board he loaned her, dries it off and slips it wax down
into his truck bed. “And seriously,” he adds, “the faster waves made you
instantly better.”
Kinetic,
Nyra thinks best describes the experience. “I’m hooked,” she says out loud.
“So
you liked the shorter board?”
“It’s
so easy to turn. I love it!” Nyra chafes her legs dry and drapes the towel over
her shoulder to wring the water out of her braid. She peeks at Tai sidelong,
her face still half in the towel. “Thanks for letting me use it. I really
appreciate you trusting me with it.”
“It’s
my favorite, so you better not have dinged it.” Tai’s eyebrows sink over his
eyes in warning.
“You
don’t scare me. And no, I didn’t ding it.” Nyra wrinkles her nose. “At least I
don’t think I did.”
Tai
unfurls his own towel and threatens to snap her legs with it. Nyra unwinds her
own in response and they go at it, half-heartedly, before succumbing to
laughter. They finish drying off and Tai feeds his own board in the back,
closing his camper shell.
When
Tai turns to face her, Nyra’s gut twists as she gets lost in his soulful brown
eyes. She shivers slightly and her bikini strap slips over her shoulder. She
pushes it back without thinking.
“Want
to know how to keep that from happening?”
“Like
get a top that fits better, maybe?” Tai shook his head. “Won’t matter. Sooner
or later, you’ll get churned and the wave’ll just suck it right off.” He laughs
at her expression. “Happens all the time in the Islands...unless you tie it off
with a shoestring, or something. My sisters all do that.”
“Or
get a racer back,” Ny suggests.
“You
could...” He laughs. “If you want a haole tan line.”
Ny
shrugs, in lieu of a comeback. Tai walks around his truck to the driver’s side.
Unlocking the door, he checks the time on his phone and frowns. “I gotta jam.
I’m shaping a new board for one of Kalani’s team riders.”
Their
eyes lock, awakening a legion of butterflies in Nyra’s stomach. God, he’s
gorgeous! “If ya gotta, ya gotta.” Nyra half-turns, smiling at him over her
shoulder. “Thanks for the lesson. See you next Saturday.”
Tai’s
return smile rivals the sun, before he turns to fold himself into the driver’s
seat.
Despite
being stoked at her rapid progression as a surfer, it’s all Nyra can do to stay
awake on the drive home. The couple who started with Nyra gave up after a
month, leaving Nyra as his sole remaining student. It’s helped her progress,
not to mention secretly pleasing her with his undivided attention.
She
keeps nodding as lane lines blur slightly, in the enervating sun through the
driver’s side window. Nyra stays semi-alert by replaying each wave, thinking
about how Tai surfed them and speculating on how she might emulate his moves.
If you knew you would die tomorrow, how
would you spend your last day?
It would depend on time
of year and where I was. If it was winter and I was near a ski resort, I would
absolutely spend my last day snow skiing. If I found myself on the coast and
there was a decent swell, I’d go surfing. Failing that, I’d probably saddle up
and ride out into the mountains.
Which of your novels can
you imagine being made into a movie?
All of them, honestly.
Each has something to offer visually, emotionally, and intellectually. But I
think the best story for cinema and the richness of theme would be either West
of Tomorrow, or either of the Nyra Westensee books. Both Best-Case
Scenario and The Year of Maybe would make satisfying stories and
visually beautiful.
What can we expect from
you in the future?
I’m currently working on
the third volume of the Nyra Westensee series and the third volume of my
science fiction yarn, The Knolan Cycle. I’m also working on a
fairly…okay, really erotic novel that isn’t for the faint of heart.
What did you enjoy most
about writing this book?
I’m guessing most people
will find this a bit perverse, but I love editing and refining. That’s
been true especially of character-driven stories like Best-Case Scenario
and The Year of Maybe. It’s not
that I don’t enjoy the creative part of writing. I do. But for me, there’s
something really satisfying about refining each chapter and scene, line by line
until it just reads well. I always use the read aloud mode in MS Word to hear
how what I’ve written sounds out loud. It’s the best way I’ve found to pick out
the soft spots in my writing.
Who designed your book covers?
I’m afraid I’m the
culprit. When I finish a story, I imagine one of the central characters or
situations and then put together the cover to match both the genre and to hint
at the story. I prefer to go with dramatic colors and evocative images.
Convince us why your book
is a must-read.
Must read? Honestly, it
isn’t. That said, it might prove helpful. All my stories have change as one of
the central themes. We are, I believe, in the midst of multiple, concurrent
paradigm shifts coming at us at an unprecedented pace. Change tends to sweep
away many of the signposts by which we’ve been accustomed to navigate. It has
to be especially trying for young adults to deal with, especially since a lot
of older adults to whom young people used to turn in the past aren’t much help.
How Nyra copes with change and her uncanny sense of balance might in some ways
help others navigate the sometimes-frenetic maelstrom we call the 21st
Century.
Do your characters come
to you all at the same time, or do they come to you as you write?
For me, it’s a
combination. I start out with a plan, and a cast of characters who define the
story, the plot’s throughline and the conflict implicit in that story. But
somewhere along the way, I tend to embellish things a bit and that generally
means adding characters to the story.
What’s your biggest
challenge writing?
I’m sure most of your
readers have heard of the planner-pantser dichotomy as those writing techniques
apply to authors. I’m a plantzer, by which I mean I start out with a plan.
Then, somewhere along the way, I get a hair fire, take an unplanned right turn
at Albuquerque, wander off and get lost. Then I have to figure out how to make
the whole thing work. Sometimes I discover that hair fire I had wasn’t such a
hot idea, after all. Other times it works out, but only after I’ve done some
readjustments to make everything fit together in a way that unifies the story.
Do you read yourself and
if so, what’s your favorite genre?
I read a lot of
non-fiction, as well as science fiction, contemporary fiction and historical
novels. I enjoy stories with a liberal dash of romance with a twist of
eroticism in them, irrespective of genre. Humans are defined by our
relationships and among the most compelling ones tend to involve connections
that are if not romantic at least layered and nuanced.
What makes a good story?
Irrespective of genre, a
good story leaves the reader with a feeling and teaches us something about
others or ourselves. There are a lot of ways to do that, but if the story
doesn’t engage us and make us feel something, it’s a waste
of time, to me. And it should in some way add to our overall understanding of
this muddy mystery we call life.
Describe yourself in five
words or less.
Free-spirited adrenaline
junkie.
Where did you grow up?
I’m Midwest born and raised, but you’d never know it
today. I don’t know to what extent I’m an exception, but growing up on a flat
plain, I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there. The day I graduated from
college, I was commissioned a Marine officer, and I’ve only been back to Iowa
once, where I grew up. And don’t miss it. I am now a product of my first
career, half of which I spent in S.E. Asia, the Pacific, the Mediterranean,
Africa and Europe. Nothing, in my opinion, makes us as acutely aware of how
much humans everywhere have in common than looking in the eyes of someone of
radically different experiences and yet seeing ourselves.
What is something unique/quirky about you?
I guess I’m kind of a
paradox. I’m completely unrestricted by consistency. Like most of us, I’m a
creature of habit, but just about the time you think you have me figured out,
I’ll do something that at first blush seems like it’s out of character. Yet I did it, so it must
be in character. I have principles and I tend to stick with them. They don’t
change much. But likes, tastes and interests? My past is rarely a faithful
predictor of what I’ll do next. It’s not something I do with malice of
forethought or change for its own sake…it just happens.
Are your characters based
on real people or do they all come entirely from your imagination?
Most of my characters are
an amalgam of people I’ve known, with a bit of creative eyesight. I’d love to
say I’m inventive enough to just make them up out of thin air, but I’d be lying
if I told you that. So you could say it’s both—and neither.
Tell us something really interesting
that's happened to you!
Years ago, I was surfing
at Trestles on about an eight-foot day. Toward late afternoon, the wind had
died down and we were bobbing around waiting for the next wave when a Sea Lion
pup popped up next to me and barked. I barked back at him, trying to be funny.
To my surprise—and everyone else’s—the pup climbed up on the back of my board
and propped his chin on my back. I guess he was tired and thought I’d be as
good a place as any to rest. He stayed about ten minutes, until the next decent
sized wave rolled in, and I had to paddle out to avoid getting cleaned up by
it.
He swam into the beach
and started begging for bait fish from a couple of the surf fishermen in the
wet sand area. He was still on the beach when I paddled in. Guessing he was
orphaned, I talked the lifeguards into calling Sea World down in San Diego to
come and get him and (hopefully) pair him up with a buddy with whom he could
eventually be released.
What kind of research do you do before you
begin writing a book?
It depends on the book.
Most of the time, I’m writing contemporary fiction, and mostly writing what I
know…or think I do. So I tend to start plotting and as I do, I realize I don’t
know enough to write one or more of the scenes. So I research whatever holes
there are in my knowledge more or less on the fly. In science fiction I tend to
do a little more research up front, either to determine what’s at least
theoretically possible, or to find a theory I can bend to make the story more
interesting.
Pen or type writer or computer?
Yes. Just kidding. Mostly I write with my laptop. On
occasion, I will make notes with pen and paper, but when I get down to actually
writing the story, it’s always on my laptop.
Describe your writing style.
Yikes! It depends on the
genre. I’ve been told (variously) that my writing reminds readers of Joesph
Conrad, Cory Doctorow, John Steinbeck or Frank Herbert. I wish! Seriously, I
think of myself as an eclectic who reads a passage from another really
compelling author and adapts a snippet of their style to what I’m working on.
What I hope is true of my work is that it inspires
reflection and leaves the reader with a feeling that makes them want to keep
reading and find more of my work.
Dirk’s path to authorship wasn’t quite an accident, but almost. Through two previous careers, first as a Marine officer and subsequently as a corporate trainer, he started way more stories than he finished.
But in the backwash of the 2008 financial collapse, Dirk’s employer filed for Chapter 11 protection, cordially inviting him to leave and not return. Out of work and excuses, he published his first novel, West of Tomorrow, while job hunting.
Since opting for “retirement,” Dirk has published five more titles including an anthology of short stories, two science fiction yarns and two new adult novels. He lives in Laguna Niguel with his wife, two psychotic cats and a fourteen-year-old Ball Python named Corona.
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Sounds like a good romance. Thanks for sharing.
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