Guest Post/Virtual Tour ~ Naked In Havana by Chris Falconer


NAKED IN HAVANA started with a letter from one of my readers:

‘… I would also truly love to learn what REALLY happened in the 50's with Cuba.  Something tells me that it wasn't truly like what the teachers told us in school in Canada.  I read a fictional book a long time ago about Marilyn, John, Bobby & Frank, that touched on the Che Guevara/ Fidel Castro story, but just not enough to satisfy me …’

‘Can you write a book about that?’ she wrote.

And because it intrigued me, I said I would.

The story of pre-revolution Havana appealed to the romantic in me; I had always been a fan of those big romantic movies like Casablanca and Gone with the Wind and my mind’s eye fixed on a sweeping love saga that would follow the winds of change of an entire decade, from Havana and Castro’s takeover of Cuba to Jack Kennedy’s Malibu hideaway, the Hollywood of Monroe and Sinatra, to the final days of war-torn Saigon, an epic with larger than life fictional characters, as well as real life legends.

That was the vision.

And as I researched more, the background did not disappoint; NAKED IN HAVANA is about Cuba before Castro took over, about the Mafia and the casinos, about Kennedy and Monroe and Che Guevara and that whole darkly glamorous story that ended with JFK’s assassination. It’s about glitzy mob-run nightclubs, gun runners, revolutionaries and torchy voiced bolero singers.

But I wanted a love story at its heart; two people who had only ever wanted love on their own terms, but now would have to give up everything to be with each other.

Passion changes us, and love is dangerous. It makes us reject our own sacred beliefs, turn our back on our own kind, do the unthinkable. It can ask more of us than we might ever think to give; it can also heal us more than we ever imagined. And you never quite know which it will be until it is too late to turn back.

That’s how NAKED IN HAVANA was born.

And that’s why when Reyes sees Magdalena in Havana in 1958 he knew that running guns in the middle of a revolution was the least of his troubles.

post-divider right

nakedSeries: Naked Series, Book 1

Publisher: Cool Gus Publishing (October 10, 2013)

Genre: Romantic Suspense

ISBN-10: 1621251020

ISBN-13: 978-1621251026
Buy: Amazon, Kindle, IndieBound, The Book Depository


18 year old Magdalena Fuentes is lying naked next to her perfect lover when he tells her he is marrying someone else. It is soon clear her destiny lies with another man, even though she says she doesn’t believe in fate.

But fate doesn’t care whether we believe in it or not…

Havana, 1958. Magdalena Fuentes knows that Angel Macheda is the only man for her, even after he takes her virginity and then tells her he is engaged to someone else. She knows they are meant to be.

So why can she not stop thinking about Reyes Garcia?

From the moment I saw you, he says, I knew there would be no one else.

From the moment I saw you, she tells him, I knew you were arrogant, conceited and rude.

Magdalena is a girl who will not let sentiment stand between her and love. But as Fidel Castro’s rebels tighten their grip around the city and she watches her family and her whole life come apart, she learns hard lessons about love and about life.

Against the backdrop of the boleristas and the gangsters, the music and the guns, Magdalena discovers just how dangerous love can be.

Naked in Havana is the first in a three part series, a sprawling epic of passion and destiny, stretching across three decades and two continents.

post-divider left

colinColin Falconer was born in North London, and spent most of his formative years at school playing football or looking out of the window wishing he was somewhere else.

After failing to make the grade as a professional football player, he spent much of his early years traveling, hitch-hiking around Europe and North Africa and then heading to Asia.

His experiences in Bangkok and India later inspired his thriller VENOM, which became a debut bestseller in the UK and his adventures in the jungles of the Golden Triangle of Burma and Laos were also filed away for later, the basis of his OPIUM series about the underworld drug trade.

He later moved to Australia and worked in advertising, before moving to Sydney where he freelanced for most of Australia’s leading newspapers and magazines, as well as working in radio and television.

He has over 40 books in print. HAREM was an enormous bestseller in Germany and THE NAKED HUSBAND was only kept out of the number one spot in Australia by Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code. AZTEC stayed on the bestseller lists in Mexico for four months. He is a bestseller in Europe and his work has sold into translation in 23 countries around the world.

He travels regularly to research his novels and his quest for authenticity has led him to run with the bulls in Pamplona, pursue tornadoes across Oklahoma and black witches across Mexico, go cage shark diving in South Africa and get tear gassed in a riot in La Paz. He also completed a nine hundred kilometre walk of the camino in Spain.

He did not write for over five years following personal tragedy but returned to publishing in 2010 with the release of SILK ROAD and then STIGMATA. His historical novel ISABELLA was an Amazon bestseller last year.

His likens his fiction most closely to Wilbur Smith and Ken Follett – books with romance and high adventure, drawn from many periods of history.

Blog * Facebook * Twitter * Goodreads * Contact

post-divider right

First Chapter:

You want Havana?

I’ll give you Havana.

I have Havana right here, in this old photograph album I keep up here on the bookshelf. It’s a little tattered and the photographs are all black and white, I can’t even see them these days without my glasses. But it’s the most precious thing I own, apart from my wedding ring. Reyes had to smuggle it out for me. I don’t have much else left of those days. I left Cuba with the clothes on my back and not much else.

Here’s my papi. Isn’t he handsome? He’s standing outside his nightclub, the Left Bank, down on La Rampa. I was sixteen then. Yes, stunning – that’s what everyone says. Being beautiful is a blessing and a curse. When you’re young you think you own your beauty like you think you own your youth. You don’t realise that you’re just borrowing both and that someday life will come to take them back. Perhaps I would have done things differently if I was smart enough to know that.

Or perhaps not. What a lowdown, spoiled bitch I was. You really want to read this? Don’t. Do yourself a favour, find some other book to read, because I swear, you’ll want to throttle me when you learn the things I did. But I learned my lesson. Take some comfort in that; life paid me back, in full.

Here’s my mother. I didn’t know her well. She died when I was ten. We are on the Malecón, by the sea wall, back in the early fifties before everything went to hell. Look how she’s holding me. She must have loved me but I can’t even remember her face now, not without this photograph to remind me.

People treat you like a princess, because they love you, because you’ve lost your mother. And because your daddy’s rich, you think it’s always going to be like that. But life always finds a way to keep us honest, that’s what I found anyway.

And if life doesn’t, death will.

But I got lucky. Reyes Garcia came along, and changed everything.

But first there was Havana.

Cuba, 1958

So there I was, naked. In Havana.

On the bed.

Angel, bless him, waited until he’d slept with me before he told me he was marrying someone else.

In fact, he waited until he’d had me on three separate occasions before breaking the good news. For now he sat there on the windowsill, smoking a cigarette, listening to the scratchy sound of Beni Moré on the old Victrola singing Santa Isabel de las Lajas. We were in his father’s apartment on San Lorenzo, where Senor Macheda brought his own mistresses: I suppose, in Angel’s mind, he was just carrying on family tradition.

My thoughts were in quite another direction. I imagined finally telling my father about us, wondered whether we would have the wedding at the club or in the garden at home. I knew papi wouldn’t agree to one of the big hotels, he hated those guys taking over his country like that.

I lay on the tangled sheets, feeling the wetness on my belly turning sticky and cold as the overhead fan stirred the treacly air. He was always careful like that, my Angel; being late home from shopping was easier to explain than being pregnant. I admired the lean bands of muscle on his chest. He was a beautiful boy, a comma of inky black hair fell over his forehead and resisted all his efforts to push it back. His half lidded eyes made him appear more sensual than he really was.

My clothes were scattered over the floor. The room smelled of sweat, sex and the French perfume my papi had bought me for my eighteenth birthday.

Angel’s hand went to his penis, stroked it casually, then he looked at me and one corner of his mouth twisted in a self satisfied grin.

‘I’m getting married,’ he said.

I raised myself on one elbow, stared at him. ‘What?’

‘Father’s idea. Nothing I can do about it.’ He shrugged his shoulders, as if this was a minor inconvenience that no one could have possibly foreseen.

‘Married? When? To who?’

He drew on his cigarette, watched the long stream of smoke as he exhaled. ‘Some girl from America. He says it’s important for the family, that it’s my duty. Can you believe it?’ He laughed. ‘My fucking father would marry me to my sister if there was a dollar in it.’

He looked at her, tilted his head, like: you should feel sorry for me, Magdalena.

‘How long have you known about this?’

Another casual shrug. He examined the tip of his cigarette, the glowing ash I would have liked to have mashed in his eye. ‘Does it matter?’

Time stopped.

I could hear the waves crashing on the Malecón, children playing football on the cobblestones in the plaza below. Someone was playing a guitar and singing, quite badly. The brown barrio girls were laughing and clapping along.

I reached for the glass of iced lime juice beside the bed and threw it at him. My aim was off. If I hadn’t been so angry it would have hit him on the head and sent him toppling down into the street. Instead it missed him by a slender few inches and smashed on the cobblestones down in the plaza. The guy playing the guitar cursed us and the girls screamed.

Angel ducked his head and ran for the door.

I looked for something else to throw. The lamp. Now the bedside table. I hauled a picture frame from the wall and hurled that as the door slammed shut behind him.

I wiped myself with his shirt and tossed that into the plaza as well. I found my clothes, got dressed. I didn’t walk out, not then, not straight away. Take deep breaths, Magdalena. Don’t let him see you cry.

I don’t know why, but when I got downstairs he was still standing by the door, naked, cupping his balls with one hand. Perhaps he was hoping that I’d calm down. You should not tell a naked girl you’re getting married to someone else and hold even the faintest hope that she will calm down anytime soon.

He saw the look on my face when I came out of the bedroom and panicked. He ran out of the door and down the steps into the plaza, bare-assed. The barrio girls started laughing and whistling, thinking this was a great joke.

Angel was trapped, halfway between me and the rest of Havana. He made to run back inside, then saw me coming down the marble staircase. I kicked him and punched him while he cowered against the wall. But how much damage can a girl do?

Not nearly enough, nothing like what he deserved.

There was a crowd gathered, hooting and cheering on the pretty chica beating on the rich kid. This was much fun as anyone had seen at that end of San Lorenzo for a while. Eventually I let him run back inside.

Luis was waiting with the car on the other side of the plaza. I kept my head down so he couldn’t see me crying and jumped in the back. He knew enough not to ask questions. He started the engine and put his foot on the gas. We headed back down San Lorenzo towards Vedado.

I stared out of the window, my hands balled into fists in my lap. I needed to calm down before I got home, I couldn’t let papi see me like this.

Angel might think he was going to marry someone else, but he was wrong.

This wasn’t over. Magdalena Fuentes would see to that. 

post-divider left

Tour Schedule

Monday, May 5

Interview at Virginia Beach Publishing Examiner

Tuesday, May 6

Interview at PUYB Virtual Book Club

Wednesday, May 7

Book Featured at Fallen Over Book Reviews

Thursday, May 8

Book Featured at Laurie’s Thoughts and Reviews

Friday, May 9

Guest Blogging at Lori’s Reading Corner

Monday, May 12

Guest Blogging at Passionate Encounters

Tuesday, May 13

Book Featured at Bound 2 Escape

Wednesday, May 14

Book Review at Svetlana’s Reads and Views

Thursday, May 15

First Chapter Reveal at The Dark Phantom

Friday, May 16

Guest Blogging at Book Reviews and More by Kathy

Monday, May 19

Character Guest Post at As the Page Turns

Tuesday, May 20

Book Featured at Sweeping Me

Wednesday, May 21

Guest Blogging at The Story Behind the Book

Thursday, May 22

Character Interview at The Literary Nook

Monday, May 26

Interview at The Writer’s Life

Tuesday, May 27

Book Featured at Booklover Sue

Wednesday, May 28

Book Review & Guest Blogging at Bookingly Yours

Guest Blogging at Icefairy’s Treasure Chest

Thursday, May 29

Book Review at Not Everyone’s Mama

Friday, May 30

Book Review at Deal Sharing Aunt



Facebook Twitter Email Linkedin Reddit Tumblr Digg Stumbleupon Delicious Pinterest


  1. great prize 2 win

Speak Your Mind


CommentLuv badge

Social links powered by Ecreative Internet Marketing