Author Bio.: Isobel Irons
born in Nomadic Travelings, The United States
In real life, I am (among many things) an indie film director and TV producer with a deep–some might even say obsessive–appreciation for onscreen storytelling and a lifelong book habit that I just can’t seem to kick.
In film, there’s nothing I like better than a JJ Abrams “show, not tell” character reveal, or a Joss Whedon banter session. Or an Erik Kripke-level “bromance.” And of course, I’m a die-hard fan of the will they / won’t they trope, where the fans start shipping two characters agonizingly long before they share their first kiss. Or in Hart Hanson’s case, like three frigging years before. (That’s right, Hart. I’m talking to you, you incorrigible tease.)
In my novels, I use my visual storytelling skills to show the reader an entire menagerie of hidden worlds. When it comes to imagination, there is no production value and no budget. But if there was, I would spend it all and then some. To me, my characters are real people, who just happen to live in my mind. Before I write, I scout locations to set the scene, I hold exhaustive casting sessions to find the perfect quirks that will ignite the maximum amount of conflict. Then, I throw in some tricky, but believable situations that allow my characters to expose themselves–sometimes in a figurative, emotional sense, other times quite literally. Rawr.
“My name is Natasha, and I’m a gigantic slut. Don’t believe me? Just ask anyone. They’ll tell you I juggle dicks like a six armed circus freak with nymphomania. They’ll tell you I’ve slept with the entire football team, twice. (Including the coach, who’s like 85 years old, by the way.) So what if none of that shit is true? That doesn’t make me any less of a slut. They’ll probably tell you that, too. But there’s one thing they won’t tell you, and that’s my side of the story.”
Natasha “Tash” Bohner just turned eighteen. Theoretically, that should mean escaping from trailer park purgatory—and her less than stellar relationship with her widowed mother—and running away to Los Angeles with her anorexic best friend, Margot. But as we all know, life is known for taking some very shitty, unexpected turns. Already the scourge of the Guthrie High gossip mill, Tash’s undesirable reputation explodes into infamy when she assaults the captain of the wrestling team. (Despite the fact that he deserved it,) the principal tells her that she’s on her last strike.
Again, see: above. Re: shit happens. When Margot’s will to live is finally severed by the leader of the Guthrie Bitch Squad, Tash vows to get revenge on the most popular girl in school—no matter what it takes. Because of a promise she made to her favorite teacher (to not get expelled), Tash is forced to get creative. She realizes she’s going to have to beat the popularity-obsessed Becca Foster at her own game, by running against her for prom queen. And winning.
In order to succeed, Tash will have to do the unthinkable: she’ll have to join student government, pretend to be well-adjusted, and actually try in school. Also, she’ll have to quit swearing so goddamn much.
It’s like a fucking Cinderella story up in here. Only, it’s high school. So there aren’t any happy endings. (Just beginnings.)
PROMISCUOUS is a novel of “mature YA” / New Adult contemporary hard knocks, with a little bit of romance and a dark, yet FAR too relatable twist.