I’m hosting the guest post today for the book tour for ” A Dead End in Vegas”, a women’s fiction novel by author Irene Woodbury. I’ll leave the word to the author now.
While writing my new novel, A DEAD END IN VEGAS, I spent a great deal of time in Las Vegas. When I wasn’t locked away in a hotel room with my computer, I tried to soak up the glitter and glitz best I could while checking out some of the key locations in my book.
One of my favorite after-hour haunts was the Bellagio, where Tricia goes to meet Joe for their week together. Every time I strolled through the lobby, with it’s exquisite Murano-glass-flower ceiling, I would glance at the check-in counter and imagine Tricia standing there, or maybe even Randy and Lola.
Then I would move beyond the lobby and check out
the gorgeous, flower-bedecked conservatory and the crepe and ice cream shop I was sure she visited while waiting for Joe’s arrival from Chicago.
On the lower level of Bellagio is the restaurant Olives,
where Tricia dined with Al Posey her last two nights. My husband and I ate there a couple of times. The cuisine was superb, and there was a delightful view of the fountain show on the lake, but my mind was on Tricia and Al. I kept imagining them at the next table, laughing, talking, and flirting before heading off to the casino for a bit of blackjack, and then upstairs to her room.
Another place I visited was right across the street from the Bellagio. The lofty and imposing Paris resort, its Eiffel Tower shimmering in the evening dusk, is where the climactic final scene of the book takes place. This structure is identical to the one in Paris, France, yet only half its size. In A DEAD END IN VEGAS, Dave and Cindy’s wedding takes place here, 460-feet above the chaos and revelry of the Strip.
Since I’m afraid of heights, I had always avoided this place, but it’s a key location in my book. So one balmy fall afternoon in 2013, my husband and I bought tickets (about $25 for two) and stood in line for 30 minutes with dozens of other tourists.
As the glass elevator took 10 of us to the observation deck, I grew more and more jittery. By the time we stepped onto the iron platform, my hands were sweating, my heart racing, and my knees wobbly. The views of the Strip and Las Vegas Valley were spectacular, but I could only stay for five minutes. I kept looking down, imagining the floor swaying beneath my feet. Everyone around me was relaxed and enjoying the view, but my fear of heights made it impossible, so we headed for the glass elevator to take us back down.
Later, as we unwound in a coffee shop in the lobby, I sipped my tea and felt grateful and relieved that my visit to the Eiffel Tower observation deck at Paris Las Vegas was over. The view was stunning—a sight I would have missed if I hadn’t been working on A DEAD END IN VEGAS.
About The Book
Author: Irene Woodbury
Genre: Women’s Fiction
When the nude body of Dave Sloan’s wife, Tricia, is found dead at the Bellagio in Vegas, he’s stunned. Why was she even there when she told him she was going to a conference in Phoenix? Tricia Sloan’s mysterious death shatters, and later transforms, the lives of those closest to her.
Irene Woodbury’s second novel, A DEAD END IN VEGAS, is a dark, probing look at marriage, infidelity, revenge, and grief. Immersing herself in drama and dysfunction for months on end was a challenge for this upbeat author, whose first book, the humor novel A SLOT MACHINE ATE MY MIDLIFE CRISIS, was published by SynergEbooks in 2011. At first glance, the two novels seem quite different, but both deal with midlife confusion and chaos, and the complexities and unpredictable nature of the human heart. And both, of course, are partially set in Las Vegas, a city Irene got to know well during her years as a travel writer. Between 2000 and 2005, her stories appeared in major newspapers in the U.S., Canada, and Europe. Irene, who graduated from the University of Houston in 1993, lives in Denver with her husband, Richard, a retired correspondent for Time Magazine who edited both of her novels. The couple miss traveling, but, after two novels, Irene insists there’s no greater journey than the one into your own heart and mind.