M.C. Vaughan's latest book Divorcing Mr. Right drops today! You can find the book here.
To help us celebrate the release, we interviewed Vaughan about the book. Here is that interview:
1. Divorcing Mr. Right is book 3 in your Charm City Hearts series. Can you tell
readers a little bit about the first two books?
Sure
thing! The first in the series, “The Reluctant Princess,” centers on Zara, a
struggling artist. One of her side gigs is a painting faces at children’s
birthday parties while wearing popular
cartoon princess costume to whom she bears a striking resemblance. It’s a good
thing it pays well, because she doesn’t love kids. Imagine her surprise
when she can’t take her eyes off the hot single dad who…what?...asks her out.
Next
up, “Pictures of You,” centers on Grier, a socialite whose parents kick her out
of their diamond-studded nest. Determined to land on her feet, she enlists the
help of her recently-back-in-town childhood crush, Quint. They almost hooked up
in high school…can they make a go of it as adults, despite the way he betrayed
her in high school?
2.
How does Divorcing Mr. Right continue
the series?
Divorcing
Mr. Right centers
on Brooke Buras, who’s a free-spirited violinist. When the story begins, she’s
in Las Vegas to help with her brother’s sort of-shotgun wedding. She meets a
completely-off-limits man—her brother’s best friend, Luke. Things heat up
between them, and she decides to cut loose. After all, she’ll never see him
again.
Except…
It’s
never that easy, is it?
3.
What character was the most fun to write for Divorcing Mr. Right?
Honestly,
they were all a blast to write, but Brooke is near and dear to my heart. She’s
always ready to laugh and make light of ridiculous situations. She is a
determined optimist, but suffers through bouts of Imposter Syndrome, and is
confident hard work is the only thing that will settle her nerves (hmm…*taps
chin and stares in mirror*…sounds familiar). Best of all, she isn’t ashamed of
her romantic appetites. Sex is healthy, and fun, and is an amazing way to
express your attraction to another person’s mind, body, and soul.
4.
What is a major theme in this book and how is it developed?
The
major theme in this book is how is that being in your twenties is really
hard. Everyone expects you to have your ish together because you are
supposedly an adult. Often it feels like your friends got some secret How to
Life manual and are three steps ahead. Eventually, you need to give up
comparing yourself to others and figure out how to carve your own path. But how
do you run toward something without making your family and friends feel like
you’re running away from them?
5.
For fans of your first two books, what growth or changes in the characters can
they expect to see?
The
protagonists from the first two books, Zara and Grier, are settling into their
relationships and careers. Things are going well for both of them—not fairytale
well, because bills, but they are both content in love, friends, and work.
Unintentionally, they are serving as examples of what Brooke could have—a
happy, devoted relationship and a career on the rise.
6.
Was there anything particularly difficult to write when working on Divorcing Mr. Right? If so, how did you
overcome it?
Oof, YES. I overwrote
this sucker by about thirty thousand words. World-building in Las Vegas, side
scenes with secondary characters, and insider’s view of their jobs that, on
second read, maybe eight people would care about. The characters were a joy,
but the window dressing around them? Too much detail, even though I really
enjoyed writing about those delightful tacos.
7. Do you plan on continuing the series? If so,
what are some things fans can expect to see in upcoming books?
Casting
Her Crush,
the fourth and final book will feature Melinda Cole, their fourth roommate. So,
what’s up with Melinda?
At
sixteen, she underwent life-saving heart surgery. Ever since, the
hyper-efficient stage manager has no patience for wasting time. She devotes
herself to what matters most—her friends, her parents, and her job. Once upon a
time, her boyfriend had a spot on that list. Then he broke up with her out of
nowhere. So now? She's diving deep into her work at Baltimore's cutting-edge
theater company, with an eye on becoming a director by next season.
Max
Cameron spent his teen years as the heartthrob star of the number one family
sitcom in the U.S. But now, nine years after his wild child lifestyle forced
the cancellation of the show, he'd be lucky to score a spot on bad reality
television. To reinvigorate his career, Max and his cameraman buddy have
cooked up an idea they hope will turn viral. At the height of his popularity,
he’d visited his number one fan as part of the Grant-a-Wish program, and an
experimental surgery gave her a shot at a full life. Dropping in on her today
would be ratings gold.
Melinda
has zero idea why the star of her teenage fantasies has crashed her theater’s
auditions for Antony and Cleopatra. Or why he’s bearing allergy-triggering
flowers, a cameraman, and his trademark platinum smile. Before she can ask, the
theater's producer claps his eyes on the Max Cameron and sees a stunt casting
opportunity. Melinda argues that Max’s acting style is all wrong for the stage.
The producer makes her a deal—if Melinda convinces Max to do the show and pulls
Bard-worthy performance out of him, then the open director’s slot in next
season’s lineup is hers. Challenge accepted, but she must keep her crush on
lock. The worst thing she could do is fall for the leading man. No one would
take her seriously again...
8.
Do you have any other news to share with us?
All
of my children passed their spring distance learning classes! And no one
fainted or had a colossal tantrum! I’m treating all of that as win. My nearest
and dearest are healthy (and a little bit bored), but that’s everything I need
out of life right now.
9.
Do you have a sample of your current work you could share with us?
Yes
indeed! Here’s the first scene from Casting Her Crush
Melinda Cole bit the
inside of her lips to keep from losing her ish. For the past hour, the
play’s director, Karen, had stared at the mosaic of headshots taped to the
rehearsal room’s wall. This was ridiculous. Reviewing tomorrow’s call sheet
should have taken twenty minutes, max, and Melinda still had fifteen other production
tasks to cross off her list. As Karen’s new stage manager, her whole job was to
ensure a smooth production, start to finish.
Karen, however, made this
nearly impossible.
“Are these really all the
actors we’re expecting?” The director’s boho skirt flared as she spun toward
Melinda.
“Yes. A dozen of the
region’s up and coming actors, all right there.”
Karen parked her chin on
her fist. “I don’t know.”
On a personal level,
Melinda liked the older woman. She was smart, kind, and always ready to crack a
joke. Professionally though, yikes. They were on opposite sides of the
spectrum. Melinda fired off decisions, closing loops and picking up slack,
whereas Karen referred to her dithering style as her “process.”
Melinda called it a
vortex of inefficiency.
The hours that Karen’s
process had siphoned away made Melinda want to scream. Or cry. Scry? Nope,
that’s what the augurers do in Act IV, Scene XII. That kind of scrying
would be welcome. Melinda would love to know if all of her professional
compromise and diplomacy would land her the director’s slot for next season’s winter show.
Eyes on the prize, Cole.
Melinda hugged her tablet
device tight to her chest. Since she’d danced with death as a child and fought
through a long, slow recovery, she’d developed a raging case of impatience.
Unfortunately, spiky blood pressure was a no-go, so she employed meditative
breathing techniques and took back a measure of control.
“While you’re thinking
about final changes to the call sheet,” she said as she backed toward the door.
“I’ll check with facilities about the boiler.”
Baltimore had recently
shed the heat and humidity of summer, and the crisp October days were a welcome
change. Full winter cold would come soon, though, and actors don’t emote well
while shivering. If it were her theater, she would have prioritized the
replacing the unreliable old clunker higher than the lobby renovation, but Donn
Gallagher, the Charm City Players’ Executive Producer, thought an interior
design facelift would be a bigger draw for an audience.
Karen stood to inspect
the glossy pictures. “It’s just…none of them scream Mark Antony to me.”
Groan.
Escape had been so close.
“They’re a good group.”
Were they her dream
options? No, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. After her recently ex-boyfriend,
Nathan, unexpectedly pulled out of the production, she and their freelance
casting director had scrambled to scrape this list of actors together.
Irritation flared in her
chest. Nathan. First he breaks up with her, then he quits the show,
leaving not only her but the whole damn production in the lurch. Actors were
the worst. Unreliable, needy, always the centers of their own stories, and
often outright liars.
Case in point—Nathan’s
agent had supplied a doctor’s note claiming he had mercury poisoning from
eating too much sushi. Bullshit. Nathan hated sushi. Unless he’d been force-fed
ahi, no way was this a legit excuse. Plus, the doctor who’d signed off
on the note happened to be Nathan’s aunt. Double bullshit.
Much as his lies plucked
her nerves, she wouldn’t call him out. Her life would be easier if she wasn’t
forced to work with her ex. In fact, this recasting could be the best thing
that had ever happened to her. She’d have the freedom to be one hundred percent
professional, focused on the work, and not blur the lines with her personal
life like she’d had to do every time she and Nathan had worked on a show
together.
“They’re all good, that’s true.” Karen
twisted her ginger and silver hair into a bun. “But is good enough? Mark Antony
needs to be charming, sexy, commanding. An alpha male willing to be dominated
by lust and love. I’m thinking Tom Hardy, Idris Elba, Javier Bardem.”
Inwardly, Melinda sighed.
The list was all settled, buttoned up, put to bed, and here came Karen, wanting
the impossible.
“They’re unlikely to be
available,” she said evenly.
“No kidding,” Karen said,
cackling. “I mean I want that kind of…what do they call it? Big dick energy?
Men with experience who are confident they can tackle any challenge. I mean,
honestly. Do any of these people rev your engine?”
Well, no, but it had only
been a minute since she and Nathan had broken up. She wasn’t in the right
headspace for all that, and never again with a co-worker. Crushing on cast
members was a doomed move.
“They’re all really
handsome,” she said.
“So’s a Ken Doll. But we
need every member of the audience to either want him, or want to be
him.”
“Don’t pre-judge. Give
them a chance to show you that during the auditions.”
“I will, but I’ve worked
with most of them before.” Karen rocked on her heels with her hands clasped
behind her back. “According to my recollection, none of them convey sex god.”
Melinda laughed. “Was
Antony a sex god?”
“Obviously, to hook
Cleopatra. She could’ve had anyone.”
“Anyone with power. Don’t
forget what the dramaturge told us. Their relationship was as much about that
as it was about sex. After Caesar was murdered, Cleopatra tried to secure power
again through a relationship with a man who commanded a third of Rome’s
armies.”
“True, true. But I still
want Mark Antony to scream sex god.”
“Do any of them have a
following?” asked a gravelly voice from behind them.
Melinda’s back stiffened.
“Jesus, Donn.” Karen
slapped a hand to her chest. “Don’t sneak up on us.”
“Apologies. That wasn’t
my intention.” The thin man with an even thinner mustache sidled up to the
headshots. “If these gentlemen have a built-in following we can leverage, let’s
factor that in the casting decision. It’s vital that this show is a success.”
As producer, Donn was
primarily concerned with the marketability of the production. Theater was a
business as much as a craft, and they couldn’t afford for the show to play to
half-empty houses. Not if she wanted to direct here in the future.
“Some of them have a bit
of a following.” Melinda pointed toward a photo of a sweet-eyed actor with a
jaw that could cut glass. “James Jacinto played Horatio in Stratford’s Hamlet,
and Dalonte Anderson starred in The Shakespeare Theater’s production of Othello
last year.”
Before she could offer
recent career highlights for the rest of the men, Donn cut her off.
“Impressive, but will that sell tickets?”
Karen crossed her arms
over her chest. “Aren’t ticket sales your job, Donn?”
“Yes, but you could make
it easier.”
“Are you kidding?” Karen
leaned into his space. “Per your request, I set it in twenty-first century
Silicon Valley because that would allow us to sex up the costumes, do product
placement, and make it more accessible to audiences.”
Melinda pursed her lips.
She’d argued with Karen and Donn about the time period, but had lost out.
Still, the cognitive dissonance of Mark Antony running around in a hoodie or a
three-piece suit and Cleopatra in a Vera Wang ball gown cramped her brain.
The past should stay in
the past.
Donn smoothed his
mustache. “This theater is in a precarious financial position due to the
unexpected expenses uncovered by the lobby renovation. If this show doesn’t do
well, we should be prepared for difficult conversations about the number of
productions we stage next season. The winter show would be first on the
chopping block.”
Melinda cringed. Cutting
the winter show, typically the most experimental in the season, would mean
losing her shot to stage a lighter, romance-centered production by a woman
playwright whose work caught her eye two years ago in Edinburgh. She hungered
for the chance to show Nathan that he’d been wrong. During their break-up, he’d
had the audacity to claim her career had stagnated while his was on fire. They
were in different tracks, though, and she had to climb the rungs one at a time
behind the scenes.
Donn scanned the
pictures, and pointed to one. “Just pick this fellow. He’s the most handsome
man. Pretty people on the posters always sells more tickets.”
“Ah, one of your guiding
principles,” Karen said.
The rehearsal room door
creaked open. The new assistant stage manager, Imani, peeked through the crack.
“Um, Melinda?” she said.
“There’s a…situation?”
Oof, she’d have to work
with Imani on her assertiveness. The most effective stage managers were clear
and firm in their instructions and requests. They didn’t phrase every statement
like a question.
“An actor is here to see
you?”
“He must be confused.
Tell him we haven’t called to confirm audition times yet.”
“I did, but um…” Imani
shifted her weight. “He said he’s not here to audition, and that he wants to
talk to you?”
Jesus, what if it was
Nathan? He’d texted her an apology for dropping out of the show, but she hadn’t
responded. If he was here and looked healthy, Donn might be tempted to sue him
for breach. As much as her ex-boyfriend might deserve a lawsuit, she didn’t
want him to be ruined financially.
“I’ll talk to him.” She
marched toward the door.
Imani twined her arms
together. “So, one other detail? You should probably know that it’s Max
Cameron.”
Melinda stumbled, but caught
herself on the chair. Apparently, she also needed to coach Imani on not burying
the lede. Max Cameron? This made no sense. She hadn’t seen her teenaged
celebrity crush in nine years, and he had zero business here.
Dollar signs practically
danced in Donn’s eyes. “The television star?”
“Former television
star,” Karen said. “Since his fall from grace, he hasn’t worked much. The more
interesting question is, how do you know him, Melinda?”
For a reason she would
never share with work colleagues.
“I don’t,” Melinda said. Not
really. Before turning back to her bosses, she schooled her features.
“Sorry for the interruption. I don’t know what this is about, but I’ll deal
with it and be right back.”
This had to be an
elaborate joke, but why? And by whom? Her little sister was a dedicated
prankster. As a recent college graduate she didn’t have money to waste on
impersonators, but maybe she’d called in a favor to celebrate the anniversary
of Melinda’s surgery.
“Be right back? Are you
kidding?” Karen asked. “I’m coming with you. I want to meet Max Cameron. I’m
old enough to be his mother but I thought he was absolutely adorable.”
Hadn’t everyone in
America?
“You’ll be disappointed.”
An audience was the last thing Melinda wanted, but Karen, Imani, and Donn stuck
to her like gaffer’s tape as she marched down the hall. “That can’t be the real
Max Cameron standing out there. If he is I’ll do shots with you on opening
night.”
“You’ll finally do
shots with me?” Karen said.
“If he’s out
there, but Karen, I’m telling you,” she said as they rounded the corner. “Max
Cameron is not…”
Melinda stopped short.
There, in his Hollywood heartthrob glory, stood the star of her teenaged
dreams. She’d know him anywhere.
“Max
Cameron’s not what?” he asked.
10.
Do you have anything you want to share with the readers?
Just
that I am so appreciative of your time! Ooh! Wait—one more thing. Pro-tip… You
know the little gas pump icon on your dashboard’s gas gauge? There’s a little
arrow that will tell you on which side of the car your gas tank lives. There.
Now I have shared all of my wisdom with you.
