Strip Club for Women, #1
by Brenna Zinn
Date of Publication: January 26th 2017
Cover Artist: Croco Designs
Making dreams come true sometimes means making a sacrifice for something more filling. Texas native and dream chaser Tatum has one last chance to make her dreams come true before her time passes her by. She feels her height and lack of ready funds make her reach a bit too high. That was until she happens in to the Iron Rods strip club for a drink and a confrontation.
Bennett Truitt was seeking redemption or confirmation. He was not so clear on which one meant more. He was the son of the owner of the Iron Rods strip club. The club that took his father away from him. The father that neglected him at almost every turn. The father that had to pay. The pricing being the one thing he did love, Iron Rods.
Here we get our look in on the new beginning of the Iron Rods strip club for women. We get to see how this new awakening all started. We get to meet some interesting characters. Brenna brings us an assortment of characters that will make the journey forward with the club interesting to say the least. I am excited to see what comes up next for Iron Rods, now the new roster is set and the opening is nearing.
During the golden age of Austin, Texas, women came from miles around to mix fantasy with flesh at Iron Rods strip club. But time moved on, leaving the club in disrepair and the dancers in sorry shape. Bennett Truitt, estranged son of the club’s aging and half-crazy owner, wants to replace the local landmark with shiny new condos against his father’s wishes. His Trojan horse is feisty Tatum Reynolds, his new hire as manager of the failing establishment. He’s sure she’s the train wreck he needs to run the business into its grave, but never underestimate the stubborn determination of a down-on-her-luck Texas woman.
After another rejection letter, Tatum stares fate in the eye and realizes she’ll never be a professional dancer on or off Broadway. Out of options, she accepts Bennett’s job offer to manage the strip club and is determined to return the run-down Iron Rods to its glory days, no matter what or who stands in her way – even if it means going toe-to-toe with the boss’ son.
TITLE of Blog: Iron Rods – the best little fictional strip club in Texas! from Brenna Zinn
If I were a betting woman, which I most definitely am, I would wager there are many of you who have seen a male stripper shaking his bon-bon or going to a strip club for women. Perhaps you were celebrating a birthday or a bachelorette party. Maybe you were simply in the mood to see some great looking guys shed their clothes for your entertainment. Whatever the reason, you came, you saw and you will have that experience to look back on for the rest of your life.
That said, let me ask you, what was your experience? If you went to a strip club for women, were you impressed with the club? Did the men who danced stir something primal within you? Did you have a great time?
I’ve had the opportunity to visit a few strip clubs for women. The first I ever visited was near Carbondale, Illinois when I was getting my undergraduate degree many, many years ago in the 1980s. Let me tell you, many of the strip clubs I’ve been to in the last ten years look as though they haven’t changed a thing, not even the tables or chairs, since the club opened who knows when. The clubs tend to be dark, drab, and borderline disguising. Sound familiar?
With this in mind, I set off to create a series that brings to light the condition of a good number of strip clubs. In the case of Iron Rods, a strip club for women in Austin, Texas, I wanted to write about the typical rundown hellhole with terrible, out-of-shape dancers and watered-down drinks. (Sound familiar?) Then, I imagined the fabulous characters who work in the club or visit the club. From there I wondered what I would do if I had unlimited amounts of cash to transform the club into a place women actually wanted to go to. And in the middle of this craziness, I added one of the hottest romances between a hero and heroine who couldn’t be any less alike.
This series, the Strip Club for Women Series, is truly one from my heart, as well as my imagination. Austin, Texas, one of my favorite cities in the world, is key to the series. It’s the main setting. It’s the series’ foundation. If you’ve ever been there, perhaps you can understand my love for the place I hope stays weird forever.
But there’s more to the series than just the place, so much more. The vivid characters who live in this series is what makes the books come to life, not to mention the crazy situations they get themselves into. When I drafted the plots to the first three books in the series (Iron Rods, Unmasked Secrets and Dirty Politics), I realized I had more interesting characters in them than the entire cast from Loony Tunes. This, as it turns, is a GREAT thing. Readers get excited about characters they can relate to and root for, and I think they’ll simply love the heroes, heroines and the secondary players they’ll read about.
The first book in the Strip Club for Women Series, Iron Rods, is available for order. The second book, Unmasked Secrets (which has BDSM elements) is out in February. There are two Kindle World crossover novellas that will also be out this year – Trouble in Red Books (part of Sable Hunter’s Hell Yeah! Kindle World, and Lone Star SEAL (part of Elle James’ Brotherhood Protector Kindle World). The third full-length book in the series is Dirty Politics, which will be out in January 2018. Yes! It’s a lot of books, but you’re going to love them.
You can get your copy of Iron Rods by clicking on these links:
Iron Rods is also available in paperback at CreateSpace.com
In the meantime, here’s a little taste of the story…when the heroine, a down-and-out Tatum Reynolds, meets the hero – Austin transplant from New York, Bennett Truitt.
Watered-down drinks were the last straw. The wild concoction of emotions brewing within her bubbled over. The time for calm had passed. She needed action. Something to release the rage and hurt trapped inside. She’d had enough of being stomped on by life, and by God she would not sit still while this seedy little club stepped on her as well.
Tatum picked up both drinks and marched to the bar, fury feeding her temper. Something in her day was going to go right, and having a decent drink to dull her pain wasn’t too much to ask for. So what if Conan the bartender looked as though he could snap her in half. If he so much as blinked the wrong way, she’d jump over the counter and make him wish he’d never poured a drink in his life.
The bartender had his broad back to her and appeared deep in conversation at the end of the bar with another man she hadn’t noticed before. How she could have overlooked the stranger was a mystery.
The man looked up and made eye contact with Tatum. Out of nowhere, fire popped and sizzled through her, scorching senses that had been dulled by the oppressiveness of the club. For a mesmerizing moment, she stared at the stranger, unable to look anywhere else.
Black hair groomed to perfection, a handsome face with an honest-to-God square jaw and wearing the kind of slick suit and tie she’d only seen in magazine ads, he looked like a modern-day aristocrat. Some big shot who was completely out of place in a dive like Iron Rods.
Why such a good-looking man was here to do anything beyond strip she didn’t know and didn’t give a flip, she reminded herself. Tonight she was on a mission to forget her troubles and find some kind of satisfaction. If the stranger couldn’t help her in either regard, then he was little more than eye candy.
She plunked down the cocktail glasses. A harsh thud sounded as they hit the wood counter. The bartender glanced over his shoulder. His face still appeared impassive, though his eyebrows now arched a bit higher on his forehead.
“Yes?” he asked.
Tatum steeled her resolve and straightened her spine, hoping all six feet of her looked formidable to a man who probably crushed boulders with his bare hands. “If these drinks have a shot of pure vodka in them, then I’m the governor of Texas.”
The bartender said something to the stranger then turned around and made his way to where Tatum stood. Her skin grew cold as she noticed the hint of a grin pull at the corners of his lips. How could a person look more intimidating with a smile on his face?
“You saying I watered down your drinks?”
Though the music in the club was loud enough to vibrate through the floor and up her calves, she easily heard his deep bass voice. A tremor of fright added to the quaking in her legs. Scared or not, she’d started this and she wouldn’t stop until she had two cocktails to her liking.
“I’m saying there’s no more alcohol in these glasses than there is in the Colorado River down the street.” Allowing the full impact of her feelings to give her strength, she took a step closer and pressed her stomach onto the padded vinyl that trimmed the bar. “My friend spent a lot of money for these drinks and I aim to make sure we get what we paid for. So how about you taking that unopened bottle of vodka there on the back shelf and trying one more time?”
The large bartender’s nose flared and the muscles in his thick neck and arms flexed. Before he had a chance to say a word, the man at the end of the bar spoke.
“It’s okay, T. Do as the lady asks.”
The big man shot her a look that could have frozen hell. “Fine. As the lady likes.” Without breaking his glare, he roughly grabbed two glasses and dropped them on the counter before reaching for the vodka.
And just like that, the polished stranger in the fancy suit single-handedly shut down her attempt at blowing the steam she’d built up.
In a perverse way, Tatum didn’t feel appeased. She might have gotten her way, but pumped-up energy still surged in her system. If only she could punch a wall or kick over a chair. She needed to do something, anything, to relieve her bottled-up tension and lock down the pheromones that unexpectedly decided to show up to the party.
The good-looking man wasn’t making her struggle to calm down any easier. Over the stacks of papers littering the end of the bar, he stared at her, and not in a pleasing way. He appeared amused, almost smug, as though she had just provided his evening’s entertainment.
She pushed her attraction aside and allowed her irritation to hitch a half notch.
“Are you the manager here?” she asked, making her way down to the end of the bar.
He punched the end of the pen he held and tossed it onto an open file. “I guess you can say I am. Is there a problem?”
His tone sounded a little too bored for her liking. He might not be hard to look at, but he had pompous ass written all over him. “As a matter of fact there is. Have you taken a good look at this place lately? It’s a dump. The lighting sucks, the dancers aren’t good-looking and couldn’t dance to save their souls, and the bartender is serving lousy drinks.”
He tilted his head. “You don’t say.”
His prissy, holier-than-thou attitude provided just the spark she needed to stay ignited. “Yes, I do say. You should be ashamed of yourself and this place. It’s the worst club in Austin.”
“And yet you’re here.”
“I—” Tatum started, but faltered in the wake of his unexpected retort. She blinked several times, too flustered to speak. Weren’t managers supposed to be nice to their customers? Even rich, snobby managers?
The stranger stood and Tatum’s gaze continued up until her head tilted back. Powerfully built, he not only stood several inches taller than her, he dominated the space around her. Though he might not be as humongous as the bartender, he radiated a fierce but intelligent intensity that commanded her attention. Here was a man used to getting what he wanted.
“You think someone else can do better?” he asked.
Her mouth watered as she watched the play of muscles behind his snug shirtsleeves and listened to the deep voice that poured over her like warm molasses. Good Lord, the man was virile.
Not permitting herself to be influenced by intimidation or lust, she raised her chin and said the first thing that came to her mind. “I think a drunk monkey could do better.”
“You looking for a job?”
Her mouth fell open at his audacity. She might be fast on the uptake, but he was faster and better.
Perturbed, Tatum planted her fists on her hips. “You calling me a drunk monkey?”
* * * * * *
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Brenna hails from the Lone Star state where she lives with her husband and four dogs, three of which are as big as long horns. She’s a fun-loving writer who likes nothing better than to explore while she travels (no planned excursions, please!), eat what others cook (it works out better for everyone that way), and avoid the gym whenever possible.
Her journey through life has taken her all over the United States, as well as many places throughout the world. Using her travel experience as a guide and peppering in interesting characters she’s met along the way, she loves nothing better than weaving tales of romance and leaving readers yearning for adventures of their own.