Title – Loverboy
Author – Trista Jaszczak
Genre – Romance/Thriller
Re-Release Date – October 31, 2013
Publisher – Planettopia Publishing
Cover Artist – Beetiful Designs

Book Blurb/Synopsis


Trista Jaszczak (jazz-ick) is the author of the Believe series, retold, and upcoming relaunches, Loverboy, What Lies Inside and the Darkness Falls series. She is an Air Force spouse and mother to two mischievous and rambunctious little girls. She is originally from Hamilton, Ohio but calls home where ever the Air Force sends her. She currently resides in Anchorage, Alaska where she finds endless inspiration in the pure Alaskan wilderness. When she isn’t writing, she spends her time with her family in the vast Alaskan outdoors, plucking away at her old guitar or working on self-improvement in the gym. She loves the outdoors, the moon, old movies and music.


Her website has been changed to: 

Giveaway Prizes
One 1st Place Winner: Paperback Loverboy Handmade Book Thong (International Gift Card equivalent)
Two 2nd Place Winner: eCopy Loverboy with handmade Loverboy Bookmark (International OK)
Three 3rd Place Winners: eCopy Loverboy (International OK)

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Please share the tour excerpt you want used below:
            My name is Charlotte Murphy. Charlotte? Charlotte… No… No, they call me Charlie. I call me Charlie. Everyone calls me Charlie; they have for years. My head hurts. Bad. I’m twenty-one? I’m from Indiana. Wait. Where in Indiana? Why can’t I remember? My parents have lived there all my life. Indiana? Morgantown, Indiana. But, I moved? I don’t live there anymore. Ugh. Why can’t I move my head? No. I don’t live there anymore. I live in New York. For…for…? School. For school. I live there for school. And, I’m a dancer. I’m an instructor for a studio part time. I work with the younger girls. I can’t move my arms, either. Where am I? Where was I? It’s black, everything is black. I was leaving school. No. Work? No, I don’t work until later this week. Why can’t I remember? What was I doing? I was leaving…something. Somewhere. I’m sore. Everywhere hurts. The party. I was leaving a party. That’s it. I left the party, because people were acting crazy. I walked. I walked home. I remember. I cut through Central Park. But then someone grabbed me. Someone grabbed me hard. They covered my mouth. I remember!
            My eyes pop open, and suddenly I’m greeted by annoying, harsh white lights and beeping noises. I groan softly. My God, I was right. I was grabbed. Someone kidnapped me. They don’t still have me do they? They can’t. No. I ran. I got away. I move my eyes around slowly and realize the only thing that can have beeping noises and such bright lights is the hospital. I’m in the hospital. I don’t remember getting here. I couldn’t have gotten here by myself. Could I? I moan again, this time making an attempt to move my hand. At least, I think I’m trying to move my hand. It hurts, too. My head, my neck, my arms, my legs, everywhere. Stabbing pains, shooting pains; pains that I’ve never felt before in my life course through every last inch of my body. Just how hurt am I? I can feel my heart beginning to pound furiously deep in my chest. I hear a clicking noise and feet on the floor as the sounds come closer.
            “Charlotte?” I hear a soft female voice.
            I open my mouth and realize how dry it is. I swallow hard and make another attempt to speak.
            “It’s okay, Sweetie,” she interrupts me. “You don’t have to talk. Do you know where you are?”
            I give myself a moment and fight through the pain enough to nod my head.
            “You understand that you’re in the hospital?” She asks.
            I lick my dry lips to find an array of what feels like cuts around them, and nod slowly once more.
            “You are one lucky girl,” she says, as I feel her working with the tubes that I now see are all attached to me. “We didn’t expect you to wake up this soon.”
            “Pain,” I finally choke out.
            “Don’t worry; we’ll get you something more for the pain.” She reassures me. “Just try to relax for me. Don’t worry now; the police are here.”
            The police?
            “Police?” I stammer.
            “Why, dear, after what you’ve just been through they wouldn’t dare leave you without protection,” she says softly, as I feel her working with another tube that I can now tell is running directly into my arm.
            “Protection?” I ask. “I was,” I pause to swallow. “I was kidnapped.” My thoughts become jumbled a moment as I try to comprehend everything that’s happened to me. Everything in my mind seems to be surrounded by a thick haze, and I can’t pull even one random through from the mess.
            She looks down at me, making the most pitiful face I have ever seen on a person. “Oh, Sweetheart, I better let the police talk to you about that.”
            Just how bad am I?
            “Can I,” I stop. “Can I sit up?” I ask      
            “Do you feel up to it?” She asks. “I don’t want to exhaust you; you just woke up.”
            “How long have I been out?” I ask, now feeling more strength in my voice.
            She takes a moment to glance at the gold watch on her wrist. “Just about twelve hours now, dear.”
            Twelve hours?!
            “I think sitting up will help my back,” I reply, softly.
            She cocks her head to the side, giving me the pitiful look again. This time I can’t be too sure, but I think I can see tears in her eyes. She finally nods and begins pushing buttons on the side of the bed that control the angle and lift. I can feel my body’s muscles beginning to work for the first time, in what feels like, years. Aches, pops, and uncomfortable groans; I can feel it all. I finally bring my strongest hand up to my neck, rubbing a tender spot that is completely covered with what I can only assume is a large bandage.
            “Would you like a pillow behind your back?” She asks, the pitiful look falling over her face again.
            I can’t imagine just how bad I look, but judging by the look on her face, not pretty. I nod slowly as she helps me lean forward, just enough for her to slide the pillow behind me.
            “Can I get you anything else?” She asks, giving my shoulder a tender pat.
            I shake my head.
            “Well, the doctor will be in shortly,” she replies. “But, if you need me, just push this button.” She pulls a remote from behind the bed, pointing at the bright red button.  She smiles. “The other two buttons control your TV.”
            “Thank you,” I manage, as I weakly take the remote from her hand.
            As the nurse turns to make her exit, I’m surprised to see a doctor already on his way in. He’s tall with pale skin, and his eyes give the impression that he hasn’t slept in days. His hair too; it’s mousy brown and cut short, but looks as though he’s just crawled out of bed. He smiles.
            “Glad to see you awake,” he says. “How do you feel?”
            “Like I was just run over by a Mack truck,” I say, working to adjust myself in the bed.
            “Well, given what you’ve just been through, I would say you should feel even worse,” he says. “Mind if I have a look at you?”
            I shake my head. Do I honestly have a choice? He steps closer, and suddenly I feel a pang of panic that I can’t explain. My heart begins to race and I can feel sweat beginning to build up on the palm of my hands. I swallow and give him a strange look. I open my mouth to apologize, but he politely stops me.
            “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you,” he says.
            “I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t,” I pause to swallow and look away for a moment, “I don’t know what happened.”
            “You’ve been through a lot, Charlotte. You’re a very lucky young woman.”
            “I guess I don’t remember what exactly I’ve been through,” I say, looking down at the tiled hospital floor.
            “One step at a time,” he says. “Best just to take it easy for now. Would you like for me to call Doctor Kenton? She’s really great to work with. I think you would really like her.”
            I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. I trust you.”
            Five whole minutes into his routine examination, and I regret not letting him phone Doctor Kenton. My palms are sweaty, my mouth is dry, and, though I have been able to control my racing heart, I’m sure he’s able to pick up on how uneasy I am with his hands anywhere near me. After listening to my heart, he backs away slowly and smiles.
            “Everything looks perfect,” he says. “You sure you feel alright?”
            I nod. “As well as I can for the aches and pains.”
            “I can certainly make sure you have something for the pain,” he says, “Is there anything else I can get you?”
            “Well, I do have a question,” I say, “How long will I be in here?”
            “It’s hard to say,” he says, “It could be a few more days; it could be a week. The best thing for you is to stay here until you’ve healed. You’ve endured a lot, and I wouldn’t want to release you just yet.”
            I nod. I should have figured. “Is there any way that I could get some clothes that are a little more,” I pause. “Covering?”
            He nods. “I can’t see how some good warm sweats would hurt.”
            “Thank you,” I say.
            “And, one last thing,” he says. “There’s a gentleman here; a police officer.  He’s to stand guard at your door.”
            Police? Stand guard at my door? What the hell happened to me?
            “I’m sure he’ll be in shortly for his questions.”
            I nod.
            “You let us know if you need anything, Charlotte.” He smiles.
            I nod again in silence as he makes his way out the door. It’s then that I can hear him talking to the cop, who truly is standing just outside my door. I slowly lean my head back and sigh. I can’t remember a thing. What’s worse is, now I don’t know that I want to.
            The light knock at the door makes me jump unexpectedly. I let out a deep breath as the nurse from before steps in, smiling.
            “I brought you something warmer to slip on,” she says, “The police department was kind enough to lend us some sweats for you,” she explains as she sets them on the bed. “Would you like some help getting dressed?”
            I look down at my right hand that’s badly bruised, there’s an IV ran in the top. Glancing to the left, I see it’s in the same horrible shape, minus the IV. I give a slight nod, and she begins helping pull the blankets back. It’s the first time I’ve seen anything other than my hands, and I see that both my legs are cut up badly and bruised. My mouth drops as I see some of the cuts are extremely deep and have been stitched up. My eyes follow up my legs to my bruised thighs, and I see the deep purple bruising has gone in between them. I look up at the nurse, with, more than likely, the same pitiful look she gave me.
            “I’m sorry,” she says, softly. “We don’t have to do this now.”
            I shake my head and swallow. “I want to be covered.”
            She nods as she helps my legs off the side of the bed.
            “I was raped.” I ask, “Wasn’t I?”
            She quietly reaches for the navy blue sweat pants and gingerly guides my legs into them. Finally, she looks up and gives me a slow, sad nod.
            I lick my lips and look down as I ease myself down off the bed long enough to pull the sweat pants up around my sore waist that is just as tender to touch as my legs.
            “Would you like the sweatshirt on too?” She asks, holding up the navy blue sweatshirt that has the word POLICE in bold yellow print on the front.
            I nod. “I just want to be covered.”
            “I understand,” she says as she begins working gingerly around the IV, and an array of deep cuts and bruises that I now see are all over my upper body as well. I feel a wave of nausea wash over me as I fight to hold everything from vomit to tears inside.
            “There,” she says, finally tugging the warm shirt down around me. “Feel better?” 
            I nod. “Thank you for your help.”
            “It’s no trouble,” she replies. “Would you like some socks, too? These floors get so cold at night.”
            I immediately nod, wanting each and every inch of my body to be covered by something, anything at all.
            She pulls a pair of thick gray socks from a storage cabinet, and is kind enough to help them on my feet. She smiles and pulls the blankets around me once more. “You get some rest now. The more you rest, the quicker you’ll heal.” She smiles, as she heads for the door.
            I force a smile. “Thank you. I will.”
            Normally, I wouldn’t mind being left alone at all; but, now that I have a lot swimming through my mind, I don’t want to be left alone to remember anything. I remember I had walked to my friend Rachael’s party. I knew most of the people there, except for a small handful of her latest fling’s friends. They were the reason I left. Turns out they had a taste for a lot of booze and drugs too. And, by drugs, I don’t mean marijuana. I mean cocaine and other substances I don’t even want to think about putting anywhere near my body. I told Rachael it was bad news, and to get them out. But, she didn’t believe me, of course. Isn’t that how it always worked? It was her party and her place, so I did what I thought was best. I grabbed my coat and took off. I walked. I know I walked; I usually walk everywhere. But, I cut through Central Park. Not because it’s really a short cut, but just because it’s one of my favorite places. That was my mistake, cutting through the park. That’s where he got me. How stupid can I be? Who walks through a deserted park, late at night, alone? Apparently, stupid Charlie Murphy does.
            I make a feeble attempt to roll to my side, but I’m greeted by a new stabbing pain on my hip. One so bad I let out a loud cry and bring myself nearly to tears. I take a few deep breaths, and suddenly the large, wooden hospital door is flung open with such a great force that it makes a loud banging noise against the wall. There, standing in the doorway, is the police officer. There’s no mistaking him in his perfect black uniform. He’s young, a lot younger than I would ever expect, and tall with golden brown hair that has a messy style. My yelp has clearly startled him. His body finally relaxes, and he straightens himself out.
            “I’m sorry,” He says, “I didn’t mean to bother you, I just…” He stops.
            I shake my head. “It’s okay.”
            “I’ll just be outside if you need me,” he says, as he grabs for the door handle to shut it behind him.
            I stare blankly at the door. He’s a ‘He’. How could the police department even think of sending a man after what I’d been through? Even though, I admit I wasn’t fully aware of just what I had been through yet. Stupid police department. Stupid me. Stupid men. Stupid everything. I sigh deeply. The pain in my side is slowly beginning to fade into a light throbbing. I have a sudden urge to lift my sweatshirt in order to see what has caused the immense pain, but after seeing my legs, I fight the urge to look just yet. After my legs, I’m terrified to see the rest of me, even though I know I will have to eventually. It is my body, after all.
            Despite the aches and pains that are pulsing and throbbing, I pull the blanket up around my shoulders a bit tighter and close my eyes. I suddenly feel exhausted again. Apparently I’d just been through hell, and I looked like it too, so I didn’t see anything wrong with letting myself fall into a nice, deep sleep.

 Loverboy Character Bios

Charlotte “Charlie” Murphy
Age: 21
Eyes: blue
Hair: blonde
Height: 5’7”
Occupation: student/dance instructor

Charlie is the only woman to be abducted by Loverboy and live to tell the tale. She’s currently enrolled at NYU and a dance instructor at Impressions Dance Studio in NYC.

Nicholas “Nick” Andrews
Age: 25
Eyes: green
Hair: hybrid brown/blonde
Height: 6’2”
Occupation: police officer

Nick is a patrol officer with dreams of being a detective. Being assigned a special protection detail on the Loverboy case is what he believes will get him there.

Age: unknown
Eyes: unknown
Hair: unknown
Height: unknown
Occupation: a known serial killer/rapist

Loverboy is NYC’s new serial killer and rapist. His name is the tag name profilers gave him because they believe his crimes are out of passion. He has never had any survivors…Until Charlie.

Loverboy Soundtrack

1. Demons by Imagine Dragons
2. It’s Not My Time - 3 Doors Down
3. I Wanna Be There - Blessed Union Of Souls
4. Wake Up - Coheed & Cambria
5. Under Pressure - David Bowie & Queen
6. Iris - Goo Goo Dolls
7. Crawling - Linkin Park
8. Nothin’s Gonna Stop Us Now - Jefferson Starship
9. Daugthers - John Mayer
10. Be Good To Yourself - Journey
11. Use Somebody - Kings of Leon
12. Torn - Natalie Imbruglia
13. You Get What You Give - New Radicals

Loverboy playlist

Loverboy is a complete re-write so as I was going through deleting and re-writing things I had a lot going through my mind. My playlist varied day-to-day as I was writing, but I think these have to be my favorites. They always set a mood for me and happen to be some of my most favorite songs that for some reason keep my creative juices and my foot tapping.

1. Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus
2. If You Leave by OMD
3. Why Part II by Collective Soul
4. Should I Stay Or Should I Go by The Clash
5. I Wanna Be Sedated by The Ramones
6. I Want You To Want Me by Cheap Trick
7. Starlight by Weezer
8. Buddy Holly by Weezer
9. We Want Fun by Andrew W.K.
10. Wait For Me by Theory of a Deadman
11. A Warror’s Call by Volbeat
12. Broken by Seether

Guest Post – Loverboy – Book Bangers

My writing process all starts with a spark in my mind. I can see something, an object, a tree, a house. I can hear something. All it takes is one little spark for an idea to begin. Once the idea is started I begin fleshing out characters. Who do I feel would be best for this idea? What is their names? How do they look? How do they act? How do they talk? I write out their descriptions, just very basic and then I start with a plot outline. I keep the characters basic because during the plot outline they become more real and develop a lot more. They may make changes on me, and that’s perfectly okay. It’s all about them becoming who they’re meant to be in the book. I even make the outline basic. Such as “A” happens, which leads to “B” and then “C” occurs. I keep it simple because when I actually begin writing, I never know what those characters may change on me. I spend so much time creating them, that they do become real and have minds of their own. While I may plan “A” leads to “B” which then goes to “C,” my character may scream and yell, “No way, lady! “A” will happen but “B” and “C” is never happening and I am moving to “D” and “E” whether you like it or not.” I feel that because I do spend so much time creating the characters and the outline that when I do go really  get things written it will flow steadily for me. At this point I’ve gotten to know the story and the character’s minds and they lead the way for me. Getting to the actual writing part can take a while, but I feel it’s better that way. By the time I do reach the writing point, the characters are ready to go. =)

Instead the mind of Loverboy 
The Morning After: Charlotte (Charlie's thoughts actions the morning after the attack)
Now it's personal: Nick (at what point does finding Loverboy become personal) 

The Morning After

I wake up to a nurse thumping around the room. It’s still dark out from what I can tell, but she’s been instructed to take my vitals. The pain medication from some hours before has already started to wear off so it wasn’t like I was really sleeping anyway. I was pretty much laying, curled up in bed, staring off into the dark. I know I’m tired, my body is completely worn down, but I can’t sleep. The nurse is at least gentle for the most part. She’s careful with my I.V.s and she gives me that pitiful look that I am all too familiar with by now. I manage to choke out that I am in pain again and she’s happy to run off to retrieve some more of the pain medication. It makes my head light and fuzzy but I have no issues happily accepting the temporary escape. I’ve been beaten, raped and tortured for days on end. I don’t even know what day it is and I don’t know how long he had me. That killer…that monster. It’s hard trying to wrap my head around everything. I was beaten and raped. Where exactly will I go from here? Is it possible to live life after this…a normal life? What do I tell people? How do I tell them? Do I point out one of the dozens of scars on my body and say, “See this? Yeah, a serial killer and rapist did that to me.” Do I find sanctuary in my home and go out only when I need to? Do I continue to live a normal life after this? Right now, all I want to do is lay in this bed. I’m at least comfortably wrapped up in a pair of warm sweat pants, sweat shirt and thick socks. I have the thin blankets on the bed pulled around me. The nurse was even kind enough to bring me a warm blanket that made a sense of comfort slip over me as she ran off for my medicine. I stare at the door when the police officer at the door allows another lady to pass. She’s in all white and explaining to me that I can choose something for breakfast. Food…my God, I don’t think I know the last time that I actually ate something. I’m pretty sure that the serial killer didn’t feed me. It’s not likely anyway.  I push my head into a comfortable spot on my pillow as I tell her that I’m not hungry. She doesn’t exactly buy that excuse and tells me that I have to eat something with the pain medication that they’re giving me. All I can do is nod. I’m not sure of anything right now, even something as simple as picking my meal for breakfast. There’s just too much going on in my brain and right now…well, right now all I want to do is take something to make this pain stop. The pain in my body,  my brain and my  heart. I don’t think I have ever hurt this badly before. I guess right now I have to be thankful that I made it out alive (and I am so grateful) and just take it one day at a time…put one foot in front of the other…and never lose hope.

This or That

Men or Women or Both - Men for me
Bike or Scooter - bike
London or France - Crap…London. Mainly because my French is rusty.
Pepsi or Coke - Coke.
Beer or Wine - Hmm…tough one…going with wine, though.
Shoes or Flip Flops - I’m more of a stiletto kind of woman ;) The higher the better.
Picnic or Restaurant - picnic for sure!
Beach or Hotel Room - beach
Vanilla Sex or Anal - Can’t I say both?
Twilight or Vampire Diaries - Vampire Diaries. Come on…Ian is in VD.
Book or Ereader - a book is a book, just read ;)

Top 10

Name 10 ways you can have sex on the beach?
1. In a frosted glass while sitting on my lounge chair…oh…not the alcoholic drink
2. Beach showers. Some are open, some are closed, where there’s a will, there’s a way ;)
3. Against a palm tree, though I think I’ve been to only a small handful of beaches that have actual trees on the shoreline, ha
4. In the water. Now that’s fun. Go with the motion of the ocean.
5. In the sand on the shoreline with the waves crashing on you.
6. If you find a rockier part, use those for some vertical fun. All you need sometimes is a little something to brace yourself.
7. In Key West some parts of beaches had picnic shelters…you could totally get frisky on a picnic table.
8. Of course in Key West too, some people parked in front of the beach line and made it to the back of their car…that’s an option too ;)
9. If you’re not shy, go at it on your beach blankets while sun bathing. Just remember to switch every so often so neither of you fry.
10. Under a boardwalk.

Author Interview:
 1. What is your favorite color? Pink
2. Have you always wanted to be a writer? For as long as I can remember I have. I did have back up plans, but luckily so far, so good =)
3. Were any of your character's based on anyone in your personal life? I have a few that definitely have little pieces of me in them. Like Charlie from Loverboy.
4. If you didn't write what would you do? I wanted to be a doctor or nurse. Someone in the medical field and helping others.
5. If you could have lunch with anyone who would it be? Stephen King, just to pick his brain.
6. Do you have a favorite blog site that you visit religiously? I visit so many any more it is crazy, haha. I try to keep up with everything in the world.
7. Do you go on book tours around the world? I’m branching out there. I have a trip planning to Maine for an author event and looking into some other fun ones. They are all a good distance from Alaska, but I’m sure they’ll be fun.
8. What is your favorite Ice Cream? I try to be super healthy so I usually skip ice cream, but when I’m being naughty…Cherry Garcia.
9. Who is your favorite actor/actress? I LOVE Dwayne Johnson, Mark Wahlberg and Sandra Bullock.
10. If you could have anything in the world what would it be? Is it is weird to want a best seller? Haha. I would just feel like I accomplished something incredible. That title is earned from hard work, amazing writing…that would make me feel accomplished. =)

Loverboy was a riveted heart wrenching story of a girl who was kidnapped by a serial killer only living to tell about it. Loveboy is full of dramatic scenes, intense conversations, a killer, a lover, and of course Charlie. As Charlie tries to remember what exactly happen to her and try's to defend her attraction to Nick her goal is to get her life back. In the process her love and Nick's love and security they are able to work together to catch the person(s) who are killing women all over. This is a 5 star read it is not your typical love story but I tell you what I couldn't put it down. I wanted to know what happen at every page.


  1. Thank you so much for being part of this tour and for reviewing the book - Tonya


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