Sometimes wrong can feel oh so right . . .

Jenna Lacombe needs complete control, whether it’s in the streets . . . or between the sheets. So when she sets out on a solo road trip to visit her family in New Orleans, she’s beyond annoyed that the infuriatingly sexy Jack Oliver wants to hitch a ride with her. Ever since they shared a wild night together last year, he’s been trying to strip away her defenses one by one. He claims he’s just coming along to keep her safe-but what’s not safe for her is prolonged exposure to the tattooed hottie.

Jack can’t get Jenna out from under his skin. She makes him feel alive again after his old life nearly destroyed him-and losing her is not an option. Now Jack’s troubles are catching up to him, and he’s forced to return to his hometown in Louisiana. But when his secrets put them both in harm’s way, Jenna will have to figure out how far she’s willing to let love in . . . and how much she already has.

Tattoos: The Prettiest Storytellers

by Chelsea Fine

Anyone who reads my books knows that I have a minor obsession with body art. Tattoos—and really any other kind of skin branding, such as scars—are prevalent elements in almost all of my stories. I’ve been fascinated with body art since I was a child and this quote from Right Kind of Wrong pretty much sums up why:

“That’s what tattoos are: storytellers. Not always, but most of the time. Some stories we tell with our tongues, in words and kisses and the food we make for others. Other stories are just for ourselves and are told in tattoos and scars and the shields we erect around our hearts.”

I truly believe tattoos tell stories. Scars also tell stories, but tattoos are stories marked on our skin by choice. For memory’s sake, for pride, for individuality…there are a host of reasons for inking your body. It’s one of the most personal, and permanent, forms of art that exists and human beings have been partaking in the ritual since 6000 B.C.

But if you wished to get a tattoo in 6000 B.C., you really had to want it. Back then, the most common to apply body ink was by using a knife to cut a design into the flesh and then rubbing ash and juice into the raw wound so the stain would be trapped below the surface when it healed. Ouch.

This excruciating process says something about how fierce the desire was to brand one’s skin. People were willing to undergo serious pain to stamp their bodies with an image, which proves just how important individual “storytelling” though body ink was 8,000 years ago. And still remains today.

Sure, it’s not as barbaric or painful as it used to be, but people are just as determined to mark their skin with representative symbols today, if not more so than thousands of years ago. Body art is a big deal and, in my opinion, a beautiful pastime.

You would think, with all my love for tattoos, that I’d have plenty of my own to brag about, but no. I don’t have a single tattoo—not because I don’t want any, but because I want too many. If I started getting tattoos, I doubt I’d be able to stop. I’d ink my body until I had no bare skin left.

What kinds of tattoos would I get? Things that symbolized my sister, my husbands, my children, my mother. Things that reflected my love of writing, art, and music. Things that reminded me of the obstacles I’ve overcome and the challenges I still want to face; the way fear immobilizes me and bravery makes me soar. I have too many stories I want to tell. And since tattoos are storytellers, I don’t think I’d ever run short on ideas.

So I stick to writing my stories down in books. All those pieces of me that I want to tattoo on my skin get translated into characters, plot lines, and themes in my books and I’m perfectly fine with that.

But who knows? Maybe someday I’ll decide to get a tattoo, after all. But until then, I’ll be content telling stories with my books and not with my skin. But I will forever enjoy reading the tattoos of others; the prettiest storytellers of all.

Chelsea lives in Phoenix, Arizona, where she spends most of her time writing stories, painting murals, and avoiding housework at all costs. She’s ridiculously bad at doing dishes and claims to be allergic to laundry. Her obsessions include: superheroes, coffee, sleeping-in, and crazy socks. She lives with her husband and two children, who graciously tolerate her inability to resist teenage drama on TV and her complete lack of skill in the kitchen.

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