Giveaway and Guest Post with Kimberly Llewellyn and her book Almost a Bride

Cell Phone Personality Types

by Kimberly Llewellyn, Contemporary Romance Author

In my contemporary romance, Almost a Bride, the heroine, Ivy Hammond finds herself in awkwardly precarious situations. Sometimes a cell phone is involved...along with the hunky hero, Kip Lockhart!

This got me to thinking about different ways people talk on their cell phones in public.

As an author, I can’t help but observe people when I’m out and about. They make for great character studies in my novels. Today, as you “people watch,” you’ll notice most have a cell phone attached to their ear. I’ve had a little fun and classified cell phone users into certain personality types. Maybe some of them will look familiar and might make you giggle.

The Big Cheese is usually a fine gentleman at the coffee shop, yelling big business deals into his phone, pacing the length of the entire place, truly believing he’s in his corner office. The world is his oyster. And so is the coffee shop!

The Victim shares sad tales of woe, ranging from a painful breakup, to evil parents, to horrible grades, to rotten roommates. The victim talks loud enough for everyone to hear as a means to evoke sympathy from those nearby. Tears and arm flailing for dramatic effect may be involved.

The Patient insists on sharing intimate medical troubles, dealing with any type of gyno-testostero-gastro-intestinal distress, and offers gory details of all the painful tests. Although others may be eating nearby, the Patient has no qualms discussing body fluids, secretions, and puss. Like the Victim, the Patient often resorts to a loud voice to evoke public sympathy.

The Rummager can be found holding up the line at the cash register. This shopper has the phone crooked between the ear and the shoulder, while rummaging through a giant stuffed purse in search of a debit card or cash. Often, the Rummager will halt the frantic search to carry on the cell phone conversation. After finally locating debit card, the Rummager then complains to the cashier that she’s in a hurry and the debit machine isn’t working...only to realize the wrong PIN was used. Phone is still crooked between ear and shoulder. The conversation carries on.

The Psychopathic Bluetoother can be found talking or yelling into the air at no one, like a homeless crazy person on the city streets. But really, he’s just wearing a single-ear bluetooth headset. He’s not crazy, he just looks that way.

The Miss Manners (or Mr. Manners) speaks without much disruption, doesn’t take up more pacing-space than needed, and keeps private issues private. Ms. (or Mr.) Manners even knows when to end a call in order to properly carry out other tasks, like paying the cashier.

Perhaps we can laugh at ourselves as we admit to having our own cell phone personality type. I do try to maintain proper cell phone etiquette, but on the rare occasion I slip into the cell phone ghetto of bad behavior, I’m afraid I become the OMG Girl. I meander in a store, cell phone to ear, jaw-dropped, with a sudden emotional outburst of, “Oh my gosh that’s awesome!” Followed by a horrified gasp and a, “Oh, no, he did’int!” startling those around me. But when that happens, it’s usually because I’m talking to a Big Cheese, or Victim, or Patient, or Rummager, or a maybe even a Psychopathic Bluetoother!

Bio

Known as "the Wedding Writer," Kimberly Llewellyn is the best-selling author of Almost a Bride and Siren Call. Her humorous women’s fiction and romantic comedies have been published by Kensington and Penguin/Putnam.

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Blurb

Award-winning author, Kimberly Llewellyn, introduces a sexy fun story about two people who discover they have a lot more to share between the sheets than they ever bargained for.

Ivy Hammond got dumped at the altar, all because she was too much of a good girl in the bedroom. So when a research study on sex appeal needs participants, she jumps at the chance to learn what it takes to be sexy.

Kip Lockehart owes his foster brother his life. He repays the debt by agreeing to participate in a new sex appeal study. From the first sizzling assignment, Kip is immediately intrigued by the lovely Ivy, who’s innocently curious about what makes a woman sensual. Kip is more than happy to show her. But as each passionate assignment brings them closer, he fears they may break the study’s number one rule―don’t fall in love. But when he can’t stop picturing Ivy as his bride, he sets out to convince her some rules were made to be broken.

Excerpt - Chapter One

I’m sorry, Ivy. To be blunt, you’re too much Madonna and not enough whore. You always will be.

The callous words still echoed in Ivy Hammond’s head as she paced her apartment balcony. Exactly one month ago to the day, her fiancé—ex-fiancé, that is—had used those very words to explain why he was breaking off their engagement. Four weeks before the actual wedding date. A New England, springtime wedding that should have taken place today.

Instead of exchanging wedding vows on this sunny May day, Ivy had spent the better part of the afternoon hiding out on her apartment balcony, mulling over the key phrases that still haunted her. Too much Madonna, not enough whore. Her ex-fiancé had wanted more. More adventure. More risk. She’d told him she could do that, from rock climbing to cliff diving. But he’d explained he’d wanted more adventure in the bedroom and he couldn’t have that with her.

Even after a month, and an entire afternoon of pacing, Ivy still couldn’t shake those words from her head.

Nor could she forget her initial reaction when Travis broke the engagement. She’d merely stood there in stunned silence while he recanted his offer of marriage, his expression deadpan. When he held out an open palm to take back the ring, she’d been too dumbfounded by his tactless statement to do anything but comply.

When the initial shock wore off, she was left confused by what Travis meant. She was too much Madonna? After a little online research, Ivy learned about the Madonna/Whore Complex, a concept that wielded a dual-edged sword. Travis may have wanted to marry a sweet, virginal, upstanding young woman, the kind of woman you take home to Mother, but between the sheets, he wanted a wildcat. A hellion. A woman to be reckoned with sexually.

She could be all those things, couldn’t she? She’d later tried to tell him she was more than happy to learn and explore such uncharted territories with him. He just had to be patient. But he’d turned her down, bluntly saying he shouldn’t have to take the time. Her cheeks still cooked in humiliation over his flat-out rejection.

Ivy halted her pacing and gripped the balcony railing for support. While she stared out at the other buildings’ rooftops that spanned the horizon of Leeview, Massachusetts, she struggled with the incessant sting that came with being accused of possessing the lukewarm sexuality of a “nice girl.”

She turned to her best friend who sat at the glass-top patio table. As Karina read her nursing newsletter with one hand, she gripped an icy glass of lemonade with the other. All the while, she chomped heartily on her nicotine gum. The woman knew too many ways to keep her mouth occupied while trying to lick her smoking habit. A monumental task for a person who’d puffed her way through nursing school, right up to taking a new job at the pulmonary unit of the local hospital.

“Karina, you don’t have to stay with me. Really, I don’t need a babysitter. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’ll be desolate and mateless forever.”

“Desolate and mateless? What’s with the marital fatalism? You’re only twenty-five. We’re talking your first broken engagement here.”

“I’m in no mood to argue the point. I’ve already got enough love-life problems on the brain.” Ivy resumed her back-and-forth stride, feeling like a caged-in panther, instinctively anxious and desperate to lunge free.

“See? I knew you’d be upset today. That’s why I came,” Karina remarked. “Who wouldn’t be freaked out? What you’re going through is perfectly natural. It makes sense to be so upset.”

“Me? Upset? Why would I be upset? Today was supposed to be my wedding day. But it’s not. I was supposed to have a beautiful seaside wedding. But I’m not. And why? Because Travis wants a woman who’s a gold medal Olympian in the bedroom, a nasty girl.” Ivy let out a growl.

“Trust me, Ivy, you better come to terms with Travis’ sex hang-up now. Every man suffers, to some degree, from the Madonna/Whore Complex.”

“Maybe so, but I don’t have to stand for it!” Ivy threw her hands into the air out of exasperation.

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