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Excerpt

Isabella Louise Anderson

March 15, 2014 Leave a Comment

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About author, Isabella Louise Anderson: Isabella grew up with a book in her hand, and to this day nothing has changed. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America and has been featured on several blogs. While Isabella doesn’t blog a lot, she focuses her time on featuring other writers, along with writing and editing.

Isabella Louise Anderson created Chick Lit Goddess to share the love of the following genres: Chick Lit, Contemporary Romance, Romance, and Romantic Comedies!  She loves featuring authors and their books.

She lives in Dallas with her husband and cat. She enjoys spicy Mexican food and drinking margaritas, and can be found spending time with family and friends, cheering on the Texas Rangers, and reading.

Isabella’s short story, Meet Me Under the Mistletoe, was featured in Simon & Fig’s Christmas anthology, Merry & Bright, in November 2013. The Right Design is her first novel.

**Contact Isabella: Email   Author Website   Chick Lit Goddess   Facebook   Goodreads   Pinterest   Twitter

INTERVIEW

Describe yourself in five words: Creative, determined, fun, loving, and stubborn.

How long have you been writing? Since I was eight or nine. Writing has always been a huge part of my life, so I’m very thankful to have a had a huge support team behind me, who encouraged me to start living my dream as an author.

How did you celebrate publishing “The Right Design”? It was quite an emotional day. After banging my head on the bed over and over (afraid of failure), I finally managed to press the “publish” button on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Kobo. The hubby handed me a glass of champagne, and I cried. Since “The Right Design” is my first novel, it was quite exciting after I finally calmed down. It’s definitely a feeling that I could get used to…:)

Between writing, editing, and publishing, which is your favorite? Definitely the editing. While it was very hard at times, I loved the challenge.

Hard/paperbacks or eBooks? Both! While I carry my iPad with me everywhere I go (thank goodness for oversized purses), I find it convenient to carry a hard/paperback, too…especially when I’m traveling. (Apparently, flight attendants aren’t too fond of allowing you to read on your iPad when taking off or landing.)

Being a published author makes you feel…: Complete!

What is your favorite writer quote? “Writing is a lonely job. Having someone who believes in you makes a lot of difference. They don’t have to make speeches. Just believing is usually enough,” by Stephen King.

Every author must have a…: patience and motivation!

What website(s) do you frequent the most? Chick Lit Plus, Oxford Dictionaries, and Thesarus.com

What is your favorite word? Cilantro.

What’s the best advice you’ve been given? While it’s easier said than done, the words “just keep writing” are true. No matter how bad a draft can be, just getting it down is the first step.

Can you tell us about any upcoming projects: I just finished the second draft of “Cards From Khloe’s Flower Shop.” It’s about a woman (Khloe) who owns a florist looking for love, and takes orders from four other characters: a cheating husband (Richard) who can’t decide between his devoted wife and his mistress, an older woman (Gabriella) who finds love online after her husband dies, a middle-aged woman (Connie) who sends herself flowers at work each week, claiming that their from an imaginary boyfriend only to gain attention from her co-workers, and a young man (Curtis) who dates a health-obsessed nut, only to find himself falling in love with Khloe.

* * * * *

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“The Right Design” by Isabella Louise Anderson

Blurb: Interior designer Carrie Newman could not have envisioned a more perfect life for herself. She had a great job doing what she loved, wonderful friends, and a close relationship with her sister and brother-in-law. Add in an amazing man who she’d hoped would soon become her husband, and her life was perfect. Until one devastating decision ruins her relationship and changes the course of her life.

Determined to make a new start, Carrie leaves Texas and heads to Palm Beach to pick up the pieces of her shattered and broken life. The last thing she expects is to find herself attracted to her first client at her new job—Brad Larson, who has proven himself time and time again to be cad.

But there’s something beneath the surface of Brad’s arrogant exterior that keeps her craving more of him—something almost sweet that Carrie can’t seem to resist.

Is Carrie ready to take another chance on romance? And will this new design of her life prove to be the right one…?

**Buy “The Right Design”: Amazon   Barnes & Noble   Kobo

EXCERPT:

Carrie Newman’s day started out like any other, only there were presents involved. After showering and dressing, she came out of the bathroom and found Roger sitting on the bed, handsomely dressed in a white dress shirt and blue pinstripe slacks. His still-wet hair from the shower was slicked back, and his expensive cologne smelled of a combination of sweet flowers and fresh lemons. In his manicured, but masculine hands, he held a little blue box—the kind most women fantasize about receiving at least once in their lifetime.

Is Roger about to propose? With a pounding heart, she sat down beside him and pointed to the box. “What’s that?” she asked, trying to make her voice sound casual.

“Oh, just a little something to let you know how much I love you and how special you are to me. Happy sixth anniversary, babe.”

Carrie blushed at his sweet sentiment and tried to control her trembling hands as she tugged eagerly at the gift’s white ribbon. Inside the box was a black velvet one. When she opened it, round diamond earrings sparkled against the satin cushion.

“They’re beautiful,” she said softly, trying her best to hide the disappointment in her voice, wondering if he’d forgotten that she preferred princess cuts. In her mind, she replayed many conversations about what kinds of jewelry she favored, but she knew that Roger hadn’t always been good with shopping. For her birthday one year, he had bought her a pony (yes, a real one) because that’s what she’d jokingly said she wanted. Really, round-cut diamonds?

“Aren’t you going to put them on?” Roger asked, sounding impatient, as he nudged her and playfully pouted.

“Oh, yes, sorry.” She took off her favorite silver dangles, and replaced them with Roger’s diamonds. “Well, how do they look?” She tried to force a smile.

“Beautiful on you.” His eyes danced, and he smiled proudly as if he’d just given her the gift of a lifetime.

Carrie walked to the bathroom to see how the earrings looked on her, assuming the worst. When she saw herself in the mirror, her jaw almost dropped. Taking a closer look, she held her ear closer to the mirror and admired the earring’s sparkling beauty. Completely caught off-guard, she took a step back again to see the full effect, her eyes widened with approval as the large diamonds shone off her oval face, brightening her fair complexion. “Wow,” she whispered.

Roger snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “If you don’t like them, I can replace them.”

Carrie turned around and put a finger to his soft lips. “They’re perfect. I love them, and I love you.” She stood on her tiptoes, draped her arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately. Tasting mint on his lips, she smiled when she felt his tongue start toying with hers, and she pulled him closer.

“My meeting got canceled,” he said, grabbing her waist and lifting her onto their black onyx marble bathroom counter with two individual sinks. “How about we start the day off right?”

While Carrie wanted nothing more than to spend the morning making love to him, she couldn’t. She needed to get to work because she had planned on leaving early to come home and surprise Roger. “I can’t, love, I really can’t.” She pushed Roger’s hand away right as he began fingering the top button of her red blouse. “I promise I’ll make tonight worth the wait.”

“You’d better.” Roger gave her another quick kiss, and then released her.

After they finished getting ready, Carrie kissed her boyfriend of six years goodbye and left for work. “Have a good day,” she said.

“Oh, believe me, I will.”

After the twenty-minute drive to work, she smiled into the rear-view mirror to once again admire her new earrings. As Carrie made her way to her office, she drew quite a bit of attention from her co-workers, thanks to the glistening baubles adorning her ears.

“Carrie, those are beautiful!” Mary Ann, her co-worker, gasped, bringing her hand to her lips. Though there was a twenty-five-year age gap between the two of them, they’d become friends the instant they’d met.

“Thank you. Roger gave them to me this morning. Today’s our six-year anniversary.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Mary Ann snapped her fingers. “Happy anniversary. I can’t believe I forgot. I’m sure you two will have a very memorable celebration.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

Carrie laughed. “That’s the plan for tonight,” she said to Mary Ann and continued down the hall to her office.

Carrie had been at Sawyer Design & Associates, a highly acclaimed firm in Dallas, for three years. She was offered the job right after graduating from Syracuse University with a degree in architecture, and only a year’s experience as an intern. Design being a passion of hers since childhood, she had grown up designing and drawing homes and buildings. In college, she’d helped her friends organize and decorate their dorm rooms, coordinating their bedroom furnishings and accessories. By landing her dream job, she couldn’t have asked for more and everyone at the design firm complimented Carrie on her great sense of style. Just last month, she finished designing the interior for the home of her city’s major league pitcher, who had received a recommendation from Roger, whose firm represented several athletes. Since then, she’d received many inquiries from several major league wives.

As she sat down at her desk, a picture of her and Roger on New Year’s Eve caught her eye, and she grinned at the memory. Her sister, Sara, had taken the photo of them kissing at midnight only months ago. Of all the pictures that they had posed for over the past six years, it was her favorite. When Carrie’s office phone buzzed, it shook her out of a daze, and signaled that her day at work had officially begun.

By eleven-thirty, Carrie had met with two potential clients, but before she could deal with her growling stomach, she had to meet with her boss, Renee Phillips. “Knock, knock,” said Carrie, tapping lightly on Renee’s door that was only halfway shut.

“Carrie, please come in.” She gestured to a seat in front of her desk.

“You wanted to see me?” Carrie sat down in one of the matching white Parsons chairs.

“Yes, I did. How’s everything going?” Renee leaned back and crossed her arms.

“Really well.” Carrie nodded, wondering what Renee was getting at.

“That’s good. And your projects, how do you feel about them?”

As Carrie started chewing her lip, she said, “I feel good, and, as you know, I recently completed the Moreland & Hamilton, and Swann projects.”

Renee’s eyes widened and she smiled. “Yes, and they were both beautiful. Are you aware that Mr. Moreland and Mr. Hamilton called me to commend your work? You did a wonderful job, Carrie. I’m very proud of you.”

With a sigh, she relaxed in her chair. Wow! “Thank you.” She’d worked hard on those projects, sometimes not leaving the office until well after midnight. It’s times like these that make the job worth it, she thought to herself.

“Carrie, Don Sawyer is leaving the company.”

Reeling back in shock, Carrie said, “Really?”

“Yes. It seems that he’s trading swatches and designs for bait and hooks. He is officially retiring in a few weeks.”

Carrie had worked with Don a few times but didn’t know him that well, except that he seemed to be a kind man who smiled a lot and was well-liked in the firm.

“I asked you in here because I’d like for you to consider a partner position. I’m nominating you as a candidate.”

Carrie blinked furiously before she practically jumped out of the chair. “Renee, I don’t know what to say. Thank you. Thank you very much.”

Renee smiled brightly. “Well, you’ve earned your due here. Nothing’s set in stone yet and this is only a nomination, but you’ve got my vote. Congratulations!”

After the meeting concluded with a handshake and a hug, Carrie quickly walked to her office and tried to call Roger at work to share her news. But he didn’t pick up his private line or his cell, and she didn’t bother leaving any messages, thinking that maybe it was better to tell him in person anyway.

*****

To celebrate, Mary Ann took her to lunch and they toasted Carrie’s nomination with a glass of champagne. Only one glass wouldn’t hurt, she thought. Besides, if she was going to go through with what she’d planned for Roger, the liquid courage would be helpful.

After lunch, Mary Ann signaled for the check. “So,” she started, reaching into her purse. “Do you think Roger’s going to propose tonight?”

Nearly choking on her last bit of champagne, Carrie shook her head. “Well, we’ve talked about it and I wish he would, but we’ve been together so long, I feel married to him already. I don’t need a piece of paper to make it official.” She traced the outline of her new earrings with the tips of her fingers. “Besides, I already have my diamonds.”

Mary Ann shook her head and laughed as she signed the check. “You’re more patient than I’d be. That’s why two years after George and I had started dating, I told him it was now or never.” She looked at the simple gold band on her left hand. “And we’ve been together for over twenty years now.” Taking a sip of her drink, she continued, “Roger really must think you’re a saint. Most women would push the marriage topic until he put a ring on that bare finger, especially since you two have been together for so long. He’s a very handsome man, Carrie.”

“Believe me, I know.” Carrie thought back to how sexy he’d looked when they’d made love the night before. She loved how Roger’s handsome body hovered over hers in the dim light, how his face had lit up as he pleasured her.

“Does he know how good his life is?” Mary Ann stood up and Carrie followed. “Most men would kill for that kind of life.”

“Oh, Roger knows,” she giggled. “Believe me, he knows.”

When they went back to the office, Carrie started counting down the two hours she had left, when her office phone rang and Roger’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hey, handsome.”

“How’s my beautiful girl?”

“Great, but busy as ever. Oh, and I have some wonderful news.” She twisted the phone cord, thinking of all the surprises that she had in store for Roger.

“Do you care to share?”

“I want to tell you in person.”

“Okay, sounds good. Hey, is there a chance of you getting off early? I need to see you.”

“I’m sorry, love, I’m so busy.” She tried to make her voice sound tense and overwhelmed with work.

All Roger said was, “Okay,” his voice sounding low and let down.

“Babe, like I told you this morning, I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Okay,” he repeated. “Don’t forget that we have seven o’clock dinner reservations at Patetico’s.”

“I can’t wait. I’ll meet you home at six-thirty?”

“See you then.”

“Roger, I love you.”

“I love you more,” he said, and then hung up.

When four o’clock came around, Carrie was out the door and headed to Neiman’s to pick up the necessities. She’d finally got enough guts to make one of Roger’s fantasies come true—for her to seduce him wearing nothing but heels, a negligee, and a trench coat. This, by far, wasn’t high on her fantasy list, but since she’d had a glass of champagne at lunch, she felt more relaxed with the idea. In the lingerie department, she tried on four negligees. They all fit nicely against the toned body she’d worked hard for. Carrie settled for a black baby-doll gown made of silk, edged with lace.

Negligee, check.

In the jacket department of the store, Carrie picked a bright red trench coat that reminded her of the movie Dick Tracy.

Trench coat, check.

She’d wear the same sexy Alexander McQueens she had on, so she didn’t bother shopping for shoes.

Heels, check.

Now that Carrie was prepared, she drove home to set the mood for Roger’s arrival. She’d have candles, champagne, and strawberries with whipped cream (which she had already bought and hidden outside in their garage refrigerator) waiting for him for when he walked through the door. Carrie hadn’t forgotten even the smallest detail in creating the perfect evening and couldn’t wait to see Roger’s face when he saw that his fantasy had become a reality.

As she made her way down their street, Carrie blinked twice, confused and a little disappointed to see Roger’s car already in the driveway. She looked at the clock on her dashboard, noticing that he wasn’t due home yet.

Quick, think of something, she thought, turning off the car, contemplating what to do. She glanced down the left side of the street and the right, then into the rear-view mirror. When all was clear, Carrie quickly took off her clothes, including her red lace thong, slipped on the negligee, and then the coat. She applied lip gloss and pinched her cheeks, giving herself a hint of more color. After a deep breath, Carrie felt ready. It was show time.

She got out of the car and didn’t bother to lock it, afraid her car alarm signal would ruin the surprise. Carrie hurried up the steps, slipped her key in the door, and twisted the knob. When she pushed the door open, her heart raced with anxiety and excitement, until she heard moans coming from inside the house.

Carrie stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, not believing what she saw. Roger had a redheaded woman bent over the island in their kitchen and was screwing her from behind. As she watched Roger and the other woman together, her blood turned cold and her mouth went dry. She stood frozen with rage and anger, not knowing what to do. Her keys left her hand and clashed loudly, hitting the marble floor. Instantly, Roger and the woman stopped in their tracks and looked at Carrie.

“Carrie!” Roger yelped in shock as his eyes oozed with guilt. Pulling out of the other woman like he was on fire, he reached for his jeans that lay carelessly on their wooden table and struggled to put them on. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

Carrie glared at him, sending daggers into his eyes. Trying to ignore the other woman who stood against their countertop with crossed legs and hands folded over her breasts, Carrie began yelling at Roger as she forced herself not to cry. “What am I doing here? This is my home, too! But if you must know, I came here to surprise you.”

He let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. Moments later, he walked closer to Carrie and tried to reach for her hand, but she jumped. “This is not what you think it is.”

“Don’t you dare touch me!” Carrie cocked her head toward him and placed her hands on her hips, in disbelief. “Explain this, Roger. Who the hell is that tart, and why is she still here?” Carrie narrowed her eyes at the woman.

“I’m not a tart,” the young coquette (who looked barely twenty) chimed in with a Spanish accent.

“Roger, you’d better start talking!” Above feeling angry and hurt, her heart raced, and she tried to swallow the bile that had risen from her stomach. She wanted answers and wanted them now.

Instead of saying or doing anything, Roger stood there with his head hung down and tail between his legs, looking like his body had been caught in another woman’s cookie jar. Finally, his mouth opened but nothing came out.

“You have nothing to say? I gave you everything you ever wanted, served to you on a silver platter. I was there for you when your parents died. I stood by your side when your siblings didn’t give a damn during your cancer scare.” She took a breath while tears began to cloud her eyes. She waited for any sign of explanation, but he had none. “Happy freakin’ anniversary, Roger.” Carrie picked up her keys and ran out of their house without taking anything, sickened that the past six years had been nothing but a lie.

Filed Under: Isabella, The Right Design Tagged With: Books, Chick-Lit, Excerpt, Florida, Guest Interview, Isabella Louise Anderson, Palm Beach, The Right Design, Women's Fiction

Alicia de los Reyes

January 13, 2014 Leave a Comment

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About author, Alicia de los Reyes: Alicia de los Reyes drew on ten years of chick lit addiction to compose The Chick Lit Cookbook. Originally from Fair Haven, N.J., Alicia is now freelance writer and teacher in Seattle where she lives with her husband, Andrew Quinton, and their cat, Mitzi.

GUEST INTERVIEW

Describe yourself in five words: Loves writing, cupcakes, running, traveling.

How long have you been writing? Since I could write!

Hard/paperbacks or eBooks? Oooh…this is tough. I love paperbacks  but ebooks are so easy to buy! Call it a tie?

What is your writing/editing/publishing process like? First, I just wake up, sit down and write—that’s the fun part. Then, I coerce my friends into reading my drafts and giving me comments. I have to really force myself to revise (something you can read all about in my next ebook, Suck It Up and Revise!). I published my first ebook with my friend Kelly of KMR Publishing, and I am also sending out queries to agents for other fiction and nonfiction projects that I am working on. I believe in both traditional publishing and self/new publishing tracks. It’s an exciting (and terrifying) time to be a writer!

Who is your favorite author? My favorite author of all time is Betty Smith, author of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. My favorite chick lit author is Sophie Kinsella.

Coffee or tea? Coffee and chai tea.

Who or what inspires you? All the books I have ever read + travel to new places, near or far.

Every author must have a…: ritual for writing. When you sit down to write, you should put on your writer hat, whatever that means for you.

How has social media helped your career? It has given me connections to other writers and readers, and introduced me to the incredibly fun and welcoming chick lit blogosphere!

What is something about yourself that would surprise most people? I am obsessed with mummies.

What’s the best advice you’ve been given? This year, it was “Don’t give up before you’ve started,” from Erika Lyremark’s Think Like a Stripper (great ebook!).

Can you tell us about any of your upcoming projects? I’m working on another writing guide called Suck It Up and Revise—pretty self-explanatory! I’m also hosting a write-a-long on the book blog (chicklitcookbook.tumblr.com) where you can literally watch me write a novel using The Chick Lit Cookbook and write your own at the same time.

GUEST POST

How I Came Up with “The Chick Lit Cookbook”

Hi, I’m Alicia de los Reyes, author of The Chick Lit Cookbook: A Guide to Writing Your Novel in 30 Minutes a Day, and I’m here to tell you about how I came up with the crazy idea to write an ebook about writing chick lit.

In the winter of 2011, I was in the midst of researching my thesis for my writing program at the University of New Hampshire. My thesis was a narrative nonfiction manuscript about spending a year in an evangelical church, and I was doing lots of interesting reading, watching and interviewing—it was intense. I was tired of being so darn serious. Plus, it was winter in New Hampshire, and one of our snowiest yet. I cross-country skied out my front door a few times.

The weather, the work, and the serious writing all combined to make me long for an escape. I picked up a few of my old favorite chick lit novels. I reread Sophie Kinsella’s The Undomestic Goddess, one of my all-time favorites, and Bridget Jones’ Diary. I remembered how darn funny they were and how fast I could eat them up. Reading chick lit was like eating a candy bar, and goodness, did I love it.

One chilly night, my fiancé (now husband) and I were getting ready to meet some friends at the Barley Pub, a bar that is now (tragically) closed where they had a totally awesome trivia night. Our job was to get there early to secure a table.

Somewhere between the stacks of pink and white chick lit paperbacks and the piles of notes and printouts, I had a brainstorm: I could research chick lit. I had read tons of it (I’m addicted to Sophie Kinsella/Madeleine Wickham in particular) and I loved writing. Wouldn’t it be a fun project to write about chick lit?

I told Andrew about my idea. “Bring your notebook to the bar!” he said.

“Really?” I asked. I’d never written in a bar before. I didn’t want our friends to think I was a freak (too late!).

“Go for it.” Andrew knows that when I get an idea, I have to run with it. I didn’t want this one to fall by the wayside.

So I outlined the first couple of chapters of The Chick Lit Cookbook at a grody table beneath the dim lighting of the Barley Pub while drinking whatever the draught on special was. It was as fun as it sounds. A few months (ok…more than a year) later, I called my friend Kelly Rizzetta of KMR Publishing and the rest is history.

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“The Chick Lit Cook Book” by Alicia De los Reyes

Book Blurb:

You’ve said it a dozen times before: If only you had the chance, you would write a chick lit novel. But between job, boyfriend, kids, school — life — you just can’t find the time.

The Chick Lit Cookbook: A Guide to Writing Your Novel in 30 Minutes a Day is the solution. This fun, cupcake-themed guide will take you from start to finish of your first draft. In 13 chapters, each with a short exercise that will get you writing now, you will learn how to create the perfect main character, her ideal love interest, a world for her to live in and an adventure that will draw in readers. You will outline your entire first draft — and then you will write it.

The Chick Lit Cookbook is a beginner’s guide to writing funny, snappy, sucks-you-into-the-story prose about modern women, life and love. It is full of tips and techniques, prompts and pep talks that will spark your imagination and inspire you to put pen to paper. The exercises can be done while sitting on the bus, waiting at the doctor’s office, or talking on the phone with your mother-in-law. This book will show you that you can and will write a chick lit novel.

Whether you’ve been wishing for years that you could write chick lit or are a brand-new fan of Bridget Jones and Becky Bloomwood, you owe it to yourself to pick up this guide. The Chick Lit Cookbook will prove to you that writing a novel can be fun and easy — it’s just like baking cupcakes!

Chapter 1

GETTING STARTED: THE VERY, VERY BEGINNING

Chick lit arrived when I was about 12 years old. Helen Fielding’s Bridget Jones’s Diary took America by storm, and I caught myself happily under a rain cloud. I carried it with me in my backpack and read it on the school bus and between classes. Then I discovered Sophie Kinsella and hid Confessions of a Shopaholic in my textbook during history class. I found Patricia Cabot and Melissa Bank. I read Emily Barr and Emily Giffin. One night, I read Marian Keyes until 6 a.m.

I was in love.

Chick lit is entertaining, funny, smart fiction about women in their 20s and 30s looking for love and fulfillment. Good chick lit will draw me in so far that I’ll start to see books with hovery pink halos around them, topped with speech bubbles yelling, “PICK ME UP!” I will skip dinner and lunch for these books, ignore my friends and significant other, and stay up past my bedtime to find out if Bridget and Mark Darcy ever get past their shenanigans and kiss at the end. Of course, I know they will … but what if they don’t?

Now, 15 years after I first discovered it, chick lit isn’t a guilty pleasure for me — it is simply a pleasure. I do not feel bad about the quantity of pages I’ve devoured. Chick lit is to me what football is to my husband: As much as you will give me, I will consume.

I, the girl who read Shopaholic Takes Manhattan between classes, grew up to become a writer and a writing teacher. I spend my time thinking of ways to explain the basics of good writing to students of every stripe, from middle school to college. I analyze texts for a living. It took longer than you might expect for me to apply my English class skills to chick lit, but one day, I realized that chick lit novels have a few basic elements anyone can use to make up her own stories, and that I could share these with other would-be writers.

You don’t need to be a practiced, published author to write a chick lit novel. Sophie Kinsella worked in the financial realm before publishing her first novel, The Tennis Party. Emily Giffin earned a J.D. and worked as a lawyer before writing Something Borrowed. Marian Keyes is another law student-turned-writer. Bridget Jones started out as a character in Helen Fielding’s newspaper column.

To write a chick lit novel, you just need to love chick lit. To be clear, I’m not talking about Fabio-on-the-cover, bodice-ripping, 50-shades-of-anything paperbacks. I’m talking about novels with entertaining storylines and characters who are flawed but funny — and, yes, who occasionally romp in the bedroom or kiss in the park. Chick lit is the romantic comedy of books. It can be thoughtful, provocative or just plain fun.

If you have never read a chick lit novel, I urge you to put this book down immediately and find one. I wrote this guide while (re-)reading volume after pink-covered volume. To me, chick lit novels are like candy: I devour them. Thus, this guide is rife with examples and references — usually drawn from the most popular writers, with a few less well known, equally successful ones mixed in. If you haven’t read every single title I reference, never fear: You will still understand what I’m talking about. But, if you have read them, you’ll have a slew of models to look at.

The purpose of this guide is to explain the chick lit novel and give you tools to write one. This volume is not here to help you publish your novel — but if you already have a draft, it may help you find holes in it. It will give you confidence and permission to put that inkling of an idea on paper and turn it into a full-fledged manuscript.

This book is meant to be a guide. It offers a basic framework that applies to many — though certainly not all — chick lit novels. It explains how character is important to story, and how different characters tend to come with different storylines. It will help you brainstorm your own character and plot. Then, it will help you sit down and write.

Each chapter is a self-contained lesson that ends with an exercise you can complete to help you design your first draft. It will prompt you to think of ideas you might not have considered and force you to write something down. Each lesson builds on the last to give you a completed outline and character descriptions, as well as tools to write.

Think of this guide as your cookbook for composing a chick lit novel. I’ll walk you through the writing process step by step, just as if I were teaching you the recipe for my favorite treat: a batch of frosted cupcakes. You will start with the basic ingredients, mix them together, decorate them and present a sugary, delicious treat to the world.

And it will be fun! I wrote this guide to make the process of composing a novel as enjoyable as the finished product. Even if you don’t love baking cupcakes as much as I do, you will love creating your main character and a world for her to adventure in.

EXERCISE 1: GATHER YOUR EQUIPMENT

Every baker knows that to achieve quality cupcakes, you have to use the right equipment. In order to get the most out of this guide, you’re going to need a mixing bowl — in this case, a writer’s notebook. This can be any notebook you like, but it should be dedicated to your future chick lit novel. It can be cute, pink and hardcover, or it can be a flimsy spiral notebook — whatever will get you excited to pick it up and pour in ideas. You will be doing a lot of prewriting, list-making and brainstorming, so if you choose to use a notebook, make sure it is big enough to spread out words, sentences and paragraphs. I write in plain spiral notebooks, but occasionally I branch out into pretty, diary-sized journals. Go to a stationery shop and browse the options, then choose one that inspires you. Buy a set of good new pens (or dig up some nice sharp pencils).

Or, if you prefer, open up a file in your favorite word-processing software — even a note-taking app on your smartphone. You can do these exercises anywhere: on the bus, in line at the post office, or while talking to your mother-in-law on the phone. Make it official and save the document in a folder called “Novel.”

Now, get ready to write!

**Contact Alicia de los Reyes:

Author page   Book website   Twitter

Filed Under: Alicia de los Reyes Tagged With: Alicia de los Reyes, Excerpt, Guest Interview, Guest Post, How-to, The Chick Lit Cookbook, Women's Fiction

The Hole in the Middle

January 8, 2014 2 Comments

the hole in the middle

The Hole in the Middle by Kate Hilton

Blurb:

Sophie Whelan is the epitome of the modern superwoman. When she operates at peak performance, she can cajole balky employees, soothe her cranky children, troubleshoot career disasters, throw a dinner party for ten and draft an upbeat Christmas letter — all in the same day.

But as Sophie’s fortieth birthday looms, her seamless life reveals disturbing web-like fractures. Conflict with her boss, blossoming jealousy of her husband’s femme fatale business partner and her feelings of hopeless inadequacy as a mother and daughter are cracking the edifice of her life.

Rescue may be at hand when Lillian Parker, a wealthy widow who befriended Sophie during her university days, makes Sophie an irresistible offer. Why, then, does Sophie hesitate? The answer is the reappearance of Lillian’s nephew, Will Shannon, the great unresolved love of Sophie’s life. As she remembers the vivid drama of their college romance, Sophie confronts the choices she has made in life and in love and looks for the one answer that has always eluded her: what does she really want?

The Hole in the Middle is a heartbreaking love story, a laugh-out loud portrayal of the twin demands of work and family and a fresh take on the hot debate about having it all.

Excerpt:

I show up at Sara’s house around eight, and book club is in full swing. I’ve come straight from the office, and my prescription is still in my purse. I’d say that I haven’t had time to fill it, but even I know that for once, lack of time isn’t the issue.

I ring the bell. Zoe answers and steps out onto the porch with me for a moment. “I was hoping it was you,” she says. “I’m not ready to tell anyone else about what’s going on with Richard, OK?” She gestures toward the house, where the rest of the book club is waiting.

“Of course,” I say. And in any event, I feel a little fuzzy on the details of Zoe’s marital crisis. Lunch feels as though it happened a week and not six hours ago.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

She shrugs. “It helped to see you at lunch,” she says. “But I think this is one of those situations where it’s going to keep feeling worse until something big changes. I’m just not ready to think about what the something big is.” I give her a hug, and we go in. “Look everyone,” she calls. “It’s a special guest appearance by Sophie!” She drags me into the living room, where the rest of the book club bursts into enthusiastic applause.

“I haven’t read the book,” I say.

“Don’t be silly,” says Laura. “No one ever reads the book.”

“I do,” says Sara pointedly. “And it would be great if we could make a tiny effort to talk about it once in a while, even for five minutes. Hi, Soph.” She pauses. “What did you do to your arm?”

“I sprained my wrist,” I say. “It’s nothing.”

“What was the book again?” asks Laura.

Sara raises an eyebrow. “Are you really interested, or are you just trying to humor me?”

Laura laughs. “Was it good?”

“Not especially,” says Sara. “We can stop talking about it now. What’s Megan going on about?”

Like Sara, Megan is one of my old friends from the student newspaper, and I’ve caught her in mid-rant. Nora is leaning back slightly to avoid Megan’s violent gesticulations, which are, as usual, aimed at hapless, absent Bob: “And then he looks into the stroller and says, ‘I’m starting to get to the point where I remember that he’s around. Do you know what I mean?’ And I think, ‘What kind of fucking question is that? It’s kind of hard for me to forget that our baby is around when he’s hanging off my tit 24/7, but I guess you don’t have that problem, do you Bob?’ Honestly! I just looked at him and said ‘I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.’”

Megan takes a breath, looks around, and realizes that she is the main attraction. “Hi, Sophie,” she says. “Good to see you.”

I wave. “Still married?”

Megan snorts. “Barely,” she says, but she smiles a little before turning back to Nora to continue itemizing Bob’s shortcomings as a husband and father.

“What can I get you to drink?” asks Zoe. “Prosecco?” I nod, and she disappears into the kitchen. I sit down next to Sara.

“How have you been?” she asks.

“Bad day to ask,” I say. “I’d say I’ve been stressed to the point of hysteria, while at the same time struggling to find enough meaning in my work to justify my level of anxiety. I mean, shouldn’t you have to care about a job to get this worked up about it?”

“Of course not!” Zoe reappears with my glass and plops down on the sofa with us. “Do you remember the I Love Lucyepisode where Lucy and Ethel are working on an assembly line at a chocolate factory? No? You know the scene in Pretty Woman where Richard Gere takes Julia Roberts up to the penthouse for the first time, and they have a fight, and then they make up, and then they stay up late watching TV?”

“Oh, yeah,” says Sara. “Right before she gives him the blow job.”

“Exactly. That moment where you think, am I really supposed to be rooting for these two to get together in the end?”

“Totally.” Megan and Nora have finished with Bob and rejoin the group. “But they aren’t watching the chocolate factory episode,” Megan says. “They’re watching the wine-making one, where Lucy runs around in a giant barrel and throws grapes at everyone.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “The point I’m making,” she says, with the deliberate enunciation of a woman who has had too much Prosecco, “is that the chocolate factory is a perfect example of a job that is both stressful and meaningless. The chocolate starts coming faster and faster and they can’t wrap it quickly enough, and by the end they are stuffing the chocolates down their shirts and in their mouths and looking completely panic-stricken, but to no real end.”

“And this relates to Sophie’s job how?” asks Laura.

Zoe waves her hand vaguely. “Email, voicemail, staff meetings – the whole tedious routine is a modern-day, white-collar version of the conveyor belt.”

“Well, that’s a pretty bleak assessment,” I say.

“Only if you plan to be stuck beside the conveyor belt for the rest of your life,” says Zoe. “But since you don’t actually work in a chocolate factory, you have a few options. And if you would admit that you are having a midlife crisis, you could start looking at ways to change it up.”

“I’m not having a midlife crisis,” I say.

Laura laughs. “Everyone’s having a midlife crisis, Sophie,” she says. “You might as well join the club.”

kate hilton**About Kate Hilton:

Kate Hilton has worked in law, higher education, public relations, fundraising and publishing. She has an English degree from McGill University and a law degree from the University of Toronto. She holds down a day job, volunteers for community organizations, raises two boys, cooks, collects art, reads voraciously and likes her husband. In her free time, she writes. On good days, she thinks she might have it all. On bad days, she wants a nap.

The Hole in the Middle is Kate’s first book. Kate is represented by Beverley Slopen of the Beverley Slopen Literary Agency in Toronto.

**Contact Kate: Blog/Website   Facebook   Goodreads   Twitter

**Click HERE to see more stops on Kate’s Chick Lit Plus Blog Tours!

**GIVEAWAY**

**Anyone who leaves a comment on the tour page will be entered  to win a $20 Amazon gift card! Anyone who purchases their copy of The Hole in the Middle before  January 27 and sends their receipt to Samantha (at) ChickLitPlus (dot) com will get 5 bonus entries!**

Filed Under: The Hole in the Middle Tagged With: Books, Chick-Lit, CLP blog tours, Excerpt, Kate Hilton, The Hole in the Middle, Women's Fiction

Miss Kane’s Christmas

November 19, 2013 1 Comment

MissKanesChristmas

“Miss Kane’s Christmas” by Caroline Mickelson

Excerpt:

“I cannot believe you’ve banished me from the North Pole.” Carol Claus glanced across the sleigh at her father. “What have I done?”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, my dear.” Santa smiled at his daughter. He hopped down from the driver’s seat and motioned for Carol to join him. When she did, he put his arm around her shoulders and gave her an affectionate hug. He gestured across the moonlit neighborhood of Indian Village. “This is a beautiful place for you to spend your first Christmas away from home.”

Carol looked down on the snow covered street. Each two story home in the cul-de-sac was bedecked with strings of colored lights, nativity scenes, plastic gift wrapped lawn ornaments, and pine wreaths on the front doors. The seventh home just under their feet was the exception to the neighborhood’s festive spirit. A white clapboard colonial with black shutters, it gave no indication that its owners knew Christmas was only three days away.

She fixed a pleading expression on her father but, while his blue eyes sparkled with his love for her, he showed no sign of going back on his decision that she spend her first Christmas with a family of his choosing. It was a Claus family tradition, and Carol, as the youngest child, was over-due for her turn. Still, she made one last ditch effort to change his mind. “You’ve said yourself that no one excels at elf management like I do.”

“True, I said it and I meant it. But your absence will give your brother Nicholas a chance to work more closely with the elves. Besides, you deserve some fun this year. You work too hard.”

“I love every moment of it.” Carol tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. She shared her father’s blue eyes and his love of Christmas. “I’ll miss you, Daddy.”

“I’ll miss you too, my girl. I know this won’t be easy, Carol, but it’s necessary.” He dug into the pocket of his red down jacket and pulled out a sheet of folded paper. “Read this.”

She reached out for the paper. “What is it?”

“Just read it. It’s the reason you’re here.”

Carol unfolded the slightly crumpled sheet of lined paper and instantly recognized that it had been written by a child. Fortunately the moon was bright enough to allow her to easily read the words that had been neatly printed in crayon.

Dear Santa,

My Daddy doesn’t know I’m writing to you. He would say I can’t write a letter to someone who doesn’t even exist but I know you are real. My Mom told me so before she died. My little brother Patrick doesn’t remember her saying that but that’s only because she was gone before he was even in preschool. I’m not writing to ask for anything for Patrick or me. But Santa, can you please bring my Daddy some happiness? I know the elves can’t wrap it, and it’s nothing you can bring down the chimney but he needs help. I don’t know who else to ask. I know you’ll think of something Santa.

from Hillary (age 8)

p.s. Patrick likes to play with cars and my favorite color is pink

Carol finished reading the letter, refolded it and handed it back to her father. “I take it we’re at Hillary and Patrick’s house?”

**About author, Caroline Mickelson**

Caroline Mickelson loves her family and loves to write. She also loves a good adventure, among her favorites thus far were attending graduate school in a Scottish castle, riding a camel around the Pyramids in Giza, and taking a best-in-a-lifetime road trip to Graceland. Caroline lives in the American southwest with her husband and their four children, affectionately known as The Miracles.

**Contact Caroline**

Website   Facebook   Goodreads

**Buy “Miss Kane’s Christmas”**

Amazon   Barnes & Noble   Kobo

**GIVEAWAY**

Click HERE to enter in to win a prize!

**Click HERE to see other stops on Caroline’s Chick Lit Plus Blog Tours!

Filed Under: Miss Kane's Christmas Tagged With: Books, Caroline Mickelson, Chick-Lit, Christmas, CLP blog tours, Excerpt, Miss Kane's Christmas

Unscripted

November 12, 2013 2 Comments

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“Unscripted” by Jayne Denker

Excerpt:

Around what felt like an hour later, I reached civilization. That is, some scrubby grass and sidewalks, with people on them. I was sure I’d left a few toes behind, and my shoulders had burned to a crisp, what with the parking lot pavement frying me like a strip of bacon in a skillet, but I’d survived. Bonus: I’d be able to find my way back to my car using the trail of blood from my feet.

I couldn’t believe I was doing this . . . and my bloody feet were also feeling a little cold. Time for some moral support before I chickened out. I dug my phone out of my bag and hit my most frequently used contact. Luckily Jaya answered her own phone for once; I didn’t have the strength to deal with Ashley at the moment. “Babe. You will never guess where I am.”

“Tell me you’re on a chaise lounge by a reflecting pool in Istanbul.”

“Nope. Alas.”

“Similar chaise, similar reflecting pool, Vietnam?”

“Not even.”

“At least gimme a beach scene.”

“How about lots of beach, no water.”

“Huh?”

“Very brown, very dry, three-hundred-and-fifty-degree open-oven, gates-of-hell-type heat. G’wan, guess.”

Jaya laughed. “Not on vacation, then.”

“Definitely not. I am working.” I took a deep breath. “I’m in Moreno Valley.”

There was a pause, then an incredulous, “Why?”

“Because here be Alex.”

Jaya let loose a little squeal. “You found him?”

“I did.”

“What did he say?”

Another deep breath, this one shakier. “I haven’t seen him yet. On my way there now.”

“What’s he doing in Moreno Valley? And—sorry—which is where, exactly, again?”

“An hour and a half, two hours inland from the coast . . . ish. I don’t know; I just followed my GPS.”

“And what’s he doing there?” she repeated.

I limped up the wide, shallow steps of a squat building that looked like all the other squat buildings surrounding it, except it was round instead of square. I heaved open one of the heavy glass doors and practically fell inside.

“I’m here. I’ll have to talk to you later.”

“But where’s here? And why couldn’t you just text him?”

“Later, my pet. All things will be revealed later.”

“I hate it when you build suspense.”

I clicked off. I was in the lobby of the arts building of the esteemed Inland Empire Community College, est. 1969, according to the poking about I’d done online yesterday. I couldn’t see a thing, still blinded as I was by my time in the searing sunshine, but I wasn’t interested in the sights. I only wanted to collapse on the floor and absorb the air-conditioning for, oh, about three days or so.

As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw a couple of shabby benches with worn checked upholstery and metal legs squatting in front of some narrow, floor-to-ceiling tinted windows on either side of the doors, a couple of modest abstract sculptures on pedestals, and the open doors to the theater proper, straight ahead, where voices, and random clunks and clanks, echoed. I dropped onto the nearest bench, lifted my hair, and let the cool air hit the back of my neck.

What was I doing here? This was a stupid idea. It was stupid of me to drive all the way out here. And where was here? Stupid Tatooine, felt like. I had never been to Moreno Valley before, even though it was only a couple of hours from L.A., but my first impression of it wasn’t all that positive: hot, brown, dry. It might as well have been another planet as far as I was concerned.

Maybe I should have texted Alex . . . but no. I knew I had to do this face to face. He could ignore a text, but he couldn’t ignore me, right in front of him.

So after a few seconds, when I was feeling almost human again, I hoisted my bag back onto my shoulder and headed farther inside. The theater itself was even darker than the lobby, the house lights low, throwing the lit stage into high relief. Alex should be here. I scanned the people scurrying around for some sign of his familiar face. Was that him there? Or maybe—

Thwack. Suddenly something was in front of me, and I walked right into it. The something was hard and soft at the same time, and a slightly pained noise came out of it. My face was between two shoulder blades, and my purse had just swung forward to whack their owner in the kidney. I jumped back as the person turned around.

“Sorry,” I muttered, stepping to the right to go around. “Dark in here.” And I made for the stage again.

But a limb shot out and barred the way as effectively as Bea’s studio gate arm, blocking me right at boob level. Was this person trying to cop a feel? But no—he jumped, apparently as alarmed as I was at where his arm had landed, and removed it quickly. “Can I help you with something?”

I craned my neck to see past him, keeping my eye on the people on the brightly lit stage. “Yeah, you can get out of the way. I need to get—”

Before I could say anything more, someone from down near the foot of the stage called, “Mason?” and a young woman in a ribbed tank top, cargo shorts, and hiking boots, with a headset around her neck, loped up the aisle from the foot of the stage. When she got to us, she pushed some stray hairs away from her forehead, smoothing them back toward her sleek, dark ponytail, and gave me a really good Who the fuck are you? look. Kudos, kid. Nice territorial vibe.

“Can I help you?” the fierce little thing asked.

Oh, so much help offered around here. Too bad I got the feeling they were offering to help me find the exit. I decided to play dumb. “I hope so,” I said. “I’m—”

“Faith Sinclair,” the guy supplied.

Oh great. Recognized. Now the question was, would that be a help or a hindrance? I looked at the guy, scanning him from his old-fashioned sneakers—what would probably have been called tennis shoes back in the day—up his “I’m a grown-up” khakis and his dark plaid button-down shirt, past those impressive shoulders I had walked into, to the top of his shaggy head.

He was staring back at me, scritching the bit of scruff under his chin.

“Oh, seriously?” It just popped out of my mouth, and I still wasn’t sure if I was pleased or dismayed. I passed a hand over my forehead. “Weren’t you—”

With a quick, sidelong glance at the girl, he cut me off with, “Right. In L.A. I’m, uh, Bea’s friend.” Quickly changing the subject, he turned to the pit bull of a tech next to him. “Uh, Kaylie, why don’t you get Ms. Sinclair some water. She looks hot—uh, thirsty.”

She didn’t move, just kept her narrowed eyes on me.

“Kaylie?” he prompted.

Reluctantly, she headed back down the aisle, ponytail swinging, occasionally glaring at me over her shoulder. I kept waiting for her to do the two-fingers-up-to-the-eyeballs “I’m watching you” thing, but to her credit she didn’t. I turned my attention back to the pleasant, and familiar, specimen of manhood in front of me.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured.

“So. Dusty Toyota. Isn’t this a coincidence.”

“Good character name. But—hate to let you down—I’ve washed the car since then.”

JayneDenkerPic**About author, Jayne Denker:

Jayne Denker is the author of three contemporary romantic comedies, By Design, Unscripted, and Down on Love, and is hard at work on a fourth. She lives in a small town in western New York, USA, with her husband, son, and one very sweet senior-citizen basement kitteh who loves nothing more than going outside, where she sits on the front walk and wonders why she begged to go outside. When Jayne’s not hard at work on another novel (or, rather, when she should be hard at work on another novel), she can usually be found frittering away stupid amounts of time online.

**Contact Jayne:

Blog   Facebook   Twitter

**Buy “Unscripted”:

Amazon   Barnes and Noble   iTunes   Kobo

**Click HERE to see other stops on Jayne’s Chick Lit Plus Blog Tours!

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Filed Under: Unscripted Tagged With: Books, Chick-Lit, CLP blog tours, Excerpt, Jayne Denker, Unscripted

Won’t Last Long

October 14, 2013 1 Comment

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“Won’t Last Long” by Heidi Joy Tretheway

Excerpt:

Setup: Joshua and Melina are on their first date in Seattle, and while Melina has her first-date routine down pat, Joshua’s easy humor and sharp disarm her. Melina’s used to being in control—she cultivates it—but in Won’t Last Long her carefully guarded façade is about to come crashing down.

Melina had a lot of rules about dating.

If they don’t call, don’t bother. Men will walk through fire to get in touch with a woman they really want.

If they’re more than fifteen minutes late or if they stand you up, don’t go out with them again and don’t return their calls.

Don’t go out more than three times per week, or with more than three men at a time. Four or more make it hard to keep track of the conversations you’ve had previously.

Melina’s rules for a first date were specific.

Always be early. Make it your turf.

Always choose the location. Your choice speaks volumes about you, so it should be hip, expensive, exclusive and a little mysterious.

Always drive yourself. It’s easier to leave a date.

Always have drinks, not dinner. It’s acceptable to leave after one drink, and OK to stay for two.

Never eat. You could get caught with your mouth full when he asks a question, or get something stuck in your teeth.

Always leave them wanting more.

One of Melina’s tried-and-true rules was to ask a man what kind of car he drives as soon as he asks her out. The answer was important, of course—Melina couldn’t see herself dating the kind of guy who drove a lifted pickup truck or a sedan that looked like it came from a rental car fleet.

But Melina asked the question not only to size up her date, but also to watch him size up himself. The answer, either with pride from the owner or with stuttering explanations, spoke volumes about his confidence.

In Melina’s book, Joshua’s confident answer was spot-on.

Despite her rules, Melina wasn’t doing a good job of keeping up the sophisticated façade she usually maintained on a first date. Caramel apples? How lame is that?

She surprised herself by letting him order her wine. Does that make me look like I don’t know my way around a wine list? She caught herself nibbling on the appetizer he ordered.

And she felt her mind wandering back to that first touch—it was as if he’d found her “on” switch. Now all of her senses were on high alert, watching, anticipating, and considering this man across the table from her.

**About author, Heidi Joy Tretheway:

HeidiJoyTrethewayPicHeidi Joy lives in Happy Valley off Sunnyside Road. She swears she did not make that up.

Heidi’s obsessed with storytelling. Her career includes marketing, journalism, and a delicious few years as a food columnist. Media passes took her backstage with several rock bands, where she learned that sometimes a wardrobe malfunction is exactly what the rock star intends.

You’ll most often find Heidi Joy with her husband and two small kids cooking, fishing, exploring the Northwest, and building epic forts in their living room.

She loves to hear from readers via messages at facebook.com/author.heidi.

**Contact Heidi:

Website   Amazon — Author Page   Facebook   Goodreads   Twitter

**Click HERE to enter to win a “Seattle Prize Package,” US only!

**Click HERE to see other stops on Heidi’s Chick Lit Plus Blog Tours!

Filed Under: Won't Last Long Tagged With: Books, Chick Lit Plus Blog Tours, Chick-Lit, Excerpt, Giveaway, Heidi Joy Tretheway, Won't Last Long

Addison Westlake

October 4, 2013 2 Comments

Addison Westlake

About author, Addison Westlake: Addison Westlake made her debut as an author at age 13 by rewriting the “Sweet Valley High” series. Despite copyright violations, she maintains that her rendition of Elisabeth and Jessica Wakefield as preteens in a British orphanage is a classic. Between then and now she went to some fancy schools, swapped out the East Coast for the West Coast, and had oodles of kids. Some of her favorite things in life include coffee, Aretha Franklin’s inauguration hat and the sleepwalking scene in “Step Brothers.”

INTERVIEW

Welcome back! What have you been up to since your first appearance on Chick Lit Goddess? I’ve been enjoying some success with my first self-published chick lit book “Christmas in Wine Country,” out in November 2012. With 25 copies downloaded, it spent six weeks as a best seller on Amazon in women’s fiction, contemporary romance, humorous fiction and humor.

My new chick lit book “Facebook Jeanie” came out 10/1 and is ready to join the party.

Tell us about your new book, “Facebook Jeanie”: It’s Bridget Jones meets “Groundhog Day” as 31-year-old Clara uses a new Facebook app to go back in time for a ‘do over’ with her college boyfriend, The One That Got Away. Ever wonder if you made the right choice? What if you could find out? Back in the world of frat parties, BFFs, and long-suffering, overlooked lab partners, join Clara as she discovers what it really means to hit the reset button on life. What could possibly go wrong? And, this time, can she get it right?

Where did you get the concept for this book? I think we all have those moments when we wonder… what if? What if our lives hadn’t followed the path we chose? What if we did take that job offer in another city or if we did decide to marry that ex-boyfriend? “Facebook Jeanie” came out of that universal experience. I imagined what if there were some way for a character to have a ‘do over’ with the one that got away.

Who or what inspires you? My mom inspires me because of how much she enjoys life, my husband because of how hard he works for the family, and my kids because of how much they’re learning every day.

Describe what the writing/editing/publishing process was like for you? Writing is lovely, like eating chocolates or spending time with loved ones. I can’t get enough of it. Publishing is much more complicated. The technical aspects of formatting and cover design can confusing, and marketing can feel scary and daunting. But when I remember that getting the word out about my book is essentially about connecting with like-minded authors and readers and sharing our love of chick lit, it feels fun again.

What are you reading right now? “The Next Best Thing” by Kristan Higgins.

How did you come up with “Facebook Jeanie”? I started with that ‘what if’ question, then I added in a dash of the magic of social media. I find Facebook fascinating—it both connects and disconnects you. You can keep in touch with friends and family, and you can spend two hours on it not paying any attention to the friends and family in the room with you. I created a character stuck in a Facebook rut, engaging more with photos of someone in her past than anyone in her present. And then I imagined a new Facebook app that lets her travel back in time, making her past her present. The rest is in the book!

If this book were turned into a movie, who would you want to play the parts? I could see Alek being played by Jake Gyllenhaal or James Franco. Clara could be Hayden Panettiere or Teresa Palmer (Warm Bodies). I could see Anna Faris being pretty funny as Jeanie; she’d bring a “House Bunny” element to the role. And Brad? Any good-lucking but vacant & bland guy would do!!!

What is your favorite line from the book? “This is just like Bella and Edward!” Jeanie declared. “Only Brad’s not a vampire, so it’s even better!”

How has social media helped you with your career? As an indie author, I don’t think any of us would be able to publish without social media. In some ways, Amazon is one big social media site—a place to share and interact with content. Without social media, we’d all be waiting to be asked to the dance by an agent. Instead, we’re all rocking out on the dance floor.

What’s the best advice you’ve been given? Relax. My husband says it a lot.

Can you tell us about any upcoming projects? I’m excited to start work on “The Never Been Kissed Club” series. Four friends band together at 13 years old. In the midst of all the braces and glasses and gawkiness, they take an oath to stay friends forever and remind each other that—just like Josie from their favorite movie “Never Been Kissed”—no matter how bad things get they have to keep believing in true love and have faith in happy endings.

The first book, “Just Between Us,” is about one of these four friends. Molly Bridget Anderson has become a 28-year-old accountant who likes to keep things orderly. Which is why chaos—in the form a 2-year-old nephew she suddenly has to look after and a tattooed rock star writing songs for her—is just what she needs to get her life on track. Look for “Just Between Us” in 2014!

GUEST POST

FUN WITH FLAWS

For ChickLit Goddess

I love flawed characters. I think it’s a big reason why I love chick lit. I like romances, too, but sometimes everything in a typical romance is just a little too neat. It can get boring.

After all, they say “write what you know.” I write chick lit perhaps because I, myself, am nothing if not flawed. I make mistakes all day long. I forget names even when I’ve met the person a thousand times. I arrive late despite my best efforts. Lately, I’m trying to drink a lot of healthy shakes (shout out to my Nutribullet!). Even though I don’t know what chia seeds actually are and I still remember the jingle for Chia Pets “Ch-ch-ch-chia!” I put them in my shakes because someone told me that they’re healthy. The problem is that the seeds get caught in my teeth. I don’t realize it and then I go around talking to people with insane brown spots all over my mouth. It’s an excellent look.

Which brings me back to my main point: flaws. When I’m cooking up a new book, I like my heroines a bit nuts and my heros with a nice side helping of imperfect. It makes everything so much more satisfying, a story you can actually feel and relate to as it unfolds. I like my happy endings, I just like mine with some “we’ve all been there” laughs along the way.

Classic romances are fun, too. I can get swept away by the Edward types with their out-of-this-world good looks and superhuman ability to protect. I can enjoy a typical regency romance with the 18-year-old in pale blue chiffon making her first debut to the ton where she meets Rake McRakerton, Duke of Rakenhurst. I like my cowboys workin’ hard on the homestead with a hankerin’ for a ‘lil slip of a thing in calico. Christian Grey has some appeal, too, especially now that that Sons of Anarchy guy is going to play him. Even all those 50 Shades knock-offs on the bestseller list can be entertaining with their 27-year-old self-made billionaires who also have enough time away from running their global conglomerate to train their bodies into pro-fighter caliber shape, perfect cooking techniques, and shop for their ladies picking out the perfect designer gowns, lingerie and, of course, bling.

But while I enjoy my airbrushed realities where nothing embarrassing happens, my favorite books to read and write all have scenes that make you blush or tear up or clasp your hand over your mouth—no, she didn’t just do that! I like to make myself laugh out loud while I’m writing. And a book that can make me both laugh and swoon? Those are the best. It’s why Kristan Higgins is one of my favorite writers; she always manages to tie everything up in a bow with a dreamy guy even when she starts out with a scene in which the heroine’s sweater gets sucked down a power flush toilet.

The best characters are a bit rumpled. Sometimes grumpy. They get distracted and trip. They make ridiculous mistakes. After all, the best stories are built around conflict, and what better conflict arises than from characters who need to grow? A character with flaws has somewhere to go, a destination, and guess who they meet along the way?

Like so many things, it all brings me back to Darcy. Fitzwilliam Darcy, what a name. Stuffy, stiff, a bit full of himself. It’s so satisfying when Elizabeth Bennet takes him down a peg. And then all the more perfect that she’s clueless, too. They can both learn from each other. Of course, it is nice that Darcy happens to be darkly handsome and impossibly wealthy as well. But there’s no way I would have read Pride and Prejudice over and over again if Darcy hadn’t been an ass at the beginning. I guess we can all take comfort from that: it’s the flaws in ourselves and in our characters that make things the most enjoyable.

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Blurb for “Facebook Jeanie” by Addison Westlake

It’s Bridget Jones meets “Groundhog Day”…

Ever wonder if you made the right choice? What if you could go back and find out?

31-year-old Clara is in a steady relationship—with Facebook. Every night after her depressing bureaucratic job (so much for saving the world), Clara comes home to her empty apartment (yes, she was dumped) and settles down with a pint of ice cream for some good, old-fashioned Facebook stalking. It’s her college boyfriend, The One Who Got Away. With the bod of a God and a net worth of umpteen bamillion, he now has the perfect life—everything she could have had if she hadn’t been so, so stupid.

But, wait. Jeanie from Facebook shows up at Clara’s job. There’s a new app they’re beta-testing and Clara’s perfect for it. That night she clicks on it and… nothing happens. But the next morning when Clara wakes up at noon, hung over, listening to her roommate blow-drying her hair and singing “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It”, she realizes she’s back in college. With the chance to do it all over again.

Back in the world of frat parties, BFFs, and long-suffering, overlooked lab partners, join Clara as she discovers what it really means to hit the reset button on life. What could possibly go wrong? And, this time, can she get it right?

EXCERPT of “FACEBOOK JEANIE” by ADDISON WESTLAKE

Chapter 1 Excerpt

Once Upon a Time

Clara clicked on the lower-case f icon along the base of her laptop. Laser-like focus, plowing past Facebook status updates, notifications and sponsored ads, she clicked over to friends, then selected him. Mr. Right. The One Who Got Away: Brad Wilkins.

Beach photos first. Because she’d had a long, hard day. She clicked on the album titled Summer.

Blond hair kissed by the sun and tousled by the wind, he stood like a Norse god on the beach. He flashed a rugged, knowing smile. The bright aquamarine of his eyes matched the ocean, the sky and the color of dreams. Move over Chris Hemsworth, there was a new Thor in town. And he’d hit the beach, tanned, rested and ready for the ladies.

An entire paragraph needed to be devoted to his chest. He had the shoulders of a lumberjack accustomed to hauling telephone poles. Pecs so hard and defined a girl could eat dinner off of them, or simply make them the meal. A six pack that mocked other men’s six packs. Put it all together and it made you want to petition NBC to bring back Baywatch, this time starring Brad Wilkins. Millions would tune in each week for the new episode, holding their collective breaths for the moment he took off in a run, shirtless, on the beach. In slow-motion he’d rescue… no one could ever tell you who because every ounce of attention would be riveted to those ripped muscles in action, the way his bicep bulged when he cradled the victim, the way the sunlight almost seemed to magnify the flexing. The man could not possibly ooze more sex appeal. She could practically hear Robin Thicke singing into her ear, “You know you want it.”

But wait, there was more. Clara clicked onto some new photos. Brad in a tux, debonair and polished yet still with the hint of the rake. Brad holding a beer and looking like a long, tall, cool drink himself in a crisp, dark blue pinstripe suit. The designer should pay him for wearing it, showing other men how it should be done, filling it out with sheer male prowess. You could put a suit on the man, but you’d never tame him.

Brad wore suits because he didn’t just play around at the beach all day. The man earned six maybe seven figures a year as an investment banker in New York City. Net worth, including the trust fund? Somewhere near upteenbamillion. The man pulled it down, brought home the bacon and the pan to fry it in. Then made you forget about dinner, anyway, because, there, he just took off his shirt.

Not for the first time, Clara reflected on the sad lack of a soundtrack to accompany clicking through Facebook photos. Because if anyone deserved the romantic, symphonic swells that enhanced the viewing pleasure of a Nicholas Sparks film, it was Brad.

Click. Those pearly whites never failed. Clara put a hand to her chest to still her beating heart.

Should have been. Click. Could have been. Click. Would have been. Click.

What she wouldn’t give for just one wish. She didn’t need three like Aladdin, no flying carpet and rich, elaborate entourage. Just one.

If she only had one wish, just one, she’d go back to college and set things right. She closed her eyes, seeing nothing but Brad, almost convincing herself that if she cleared everything else from her mind, focused intently enough, maybe somehow she could be transported back in time. Back to college. Because this time, she’d do everything different. And this time, she knew she’d get it right.

**GIVEAWAY**

Prize: One (1) eBook copy of “Facebook Jeanie”, two (2) winners!

To enter and win, please leave a comment below, ALONG WITH YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS!

**Contact Addison:

Email: addisonwestlake@gmail.com   Blog   Facebook   Goodreads   Google Plus   Twitter

**Click HERE to purchase a copy of Addison’s first book, “Christmas in Wine Country” — it’s only $0.99!

Filed Under: Addison Westlake, Facebook Jeanie Tagged With: Addison Westlake, Book giveaway, Books, Chick-Lit, Excerpt, Facebook Jeanie, Guest Interview, Guest Post

Is This All There Is?

August 13, 2013 7 Comments

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“Is This All There Is?” by Patricia Mann

Summary:

Beth Thomas has the perfect life. At thirty-five, she’s married to her college sweetheart, has two adorable kids, and teaches part time at the local university. But when a friend persuades Beth to go dancing on a rare night out, a chance meeting with twenty one year old Dave, one of her former students, changes the course of her life. Loud music, too much to drink, and the thrill of feeling young again lead to an unforgettable kiss that was never supposed to happen. As she tries to put the memory behind her, Dave’s pursuit leaves Beth torn between what her mind says is right and what her heart and body crave.

Patricia Mann’s “Is This All There Is?” introduces readers to the seemingly perfect world of Beth Thomas, a 35-year-old mother and wife who takes a risqué detour from diapers and duty to chart a course into erotica, deception and deceit. As the part-time college professor yields to the overpowering push and pull that follow a magnetic encounter with a former student, Beth is held captive in the seductive space that lingers between desire and reason. Honest and moving, Mann’s work is a touching snapshot of middle-America today, a compelling story about one woman’s struggle to keep up appearances while coming undone.

Excerpt:

“You have no idea who I am. You don’t know a thing about me.”

“I know more than you think.”

“Like what?”

“I know you’re a brilliant teacher. When you’re up there in front of the class, you’re passionate and funny and… ”

“The way I teach? That’s what makes you think you know me? Because of something I do for a few hours a week?”

“Wait, you’re not letting me… ”

“All my students think they know me, but they don’t. None of your professors really let you in. If you only knew the things I know about them.” I was trying my best to sound cynical and disinterested but his fascination with me was intoxicating. I felt his eyes searing through the side of my head. I cranked up the air conditioning, even though it was a cool day.

“Okay, fine, so maybe I’m a good teacher. What makes you think you know anything more about me than that?” From the corner of my eye, I saw a mischievous grin slowly spread across his face. A rush of warmth coursed through my body. For the first time, I looked directly into the piercing green eyes I had dreamed about every night of the two weeks since our kiss.

**About author, Patricia Mann:

Patricia Mann is a university professor. She lives in California with her husband, their two kids, and a sweet, silly old dog.

**Contact Patricia:

Website   Facebook – Fan Page   Facebook – Friend Page   Goodreads   Twitter

**Buy “Is This All There Is”:

Amazon   Barnes & Noble

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**Click HERE to see other stops on Patricia’s Chick Lit Plus Blog Tours!

**Everyone who leaves a comment on the tour page will be entered to win a $20 Amazon gift card! Anyone who purchases their copy of “Is This All There Is?before” August 26 and sends their receipt to Samantha (at) ChickLitPlus (dot) com, will get five bonus entries.**

Filed Under: Is This All There Is? Tagged With: Books, Chick-Lit, CLP blog tours, Excerpt, Is This All There Is?, Patricia Mann

Front Page Fatality

July 23, 2013 6 Comments

Excerpt of “Front Page Fatality”FrontPageFatalityCoverPic

“Front Page Fatality” by LynDee Walker

Summary:

Crime reporter Nichelle Clarke’s days can flip from macabre to comical with a beep of her police scanner. Then an ordinary accident story turns extraordinary when evidence goes missing, a prosecutor vanishes, and a sexy Mafia boss shows up with the headline tip of a lifetime. As Nichelle gets closer to the truth, her story gets more dangerous. Armed with a notebook, a hunch, and her favorite stilettos, Nichelle races to splash these shady dealings across the front page before this deadline becomes her last.

Excerpt:

I paused outside Bob’s door, where Grant Parker was chatting with the features editor about the baseball season. I couldn’t remember ever having spoken more than a dozen words to Parker, an almost-professional pitcher who was regarded around Richmond as just slightly less than Zeus’ son, but the column he’d talked about in the meeting caught my attention.

I cleared my throat lightly and he turned his head, his bright green eyes widening a touch when they met mine. He was tall, but in my heels, I was almost nose-to-nose with him.

“What can I do for you, Miss Clarke?” He flashed the smile that made most women here channel their corset- bound ancestors and swoon—and sold a fair number of newspapers, too.

“I wanted to say thank you,” I said, shifting my file folder to the other arm. “For the column you’re doing today. My mom is a breast cancer survivor, and it’s nice you’re writing about it. The sports section isn’t usually where you’d look for a breast cancer story. So thanks.”

“You’re so welcome.” His eyes dropped to the square- toed perfection of the shiny blue stilettos I’d shoved my feet into between my early morning body combat class and my mad dash to the meeting, then raised back to mine. “Nice of you to say so. I didn’t know you read my column.”

“I don’t.” I smiled. “But I will tomorrow.”

“I guess I’d better be on my A game, then.” He ran a hand through his already-messy blond hair and grinned at me again.

“I guess you’d better.” I took a step backward. “I’m told I can be tough to impress.”

“I do love a challenge.” He raised his eyebrows and twisted his mouth to one side.

“I bet you do.” I shook my head, making a mental note to call my mother as I turned and headed for my ivory cubicle, Parker and his too-perfect smile forgotten. Charles Bronson. Dead guys. The nagging feeling there was something beyond the obvious on the murdered dealers got stronger the more I thought about the scattered details I’d heard on the scanner.

My hand was already on the phone to call Aaron again when I snatched up the pink slip on my desk, but the mes- sage was from my friend Jenna. She was probably looking for my input on which restaurants had sufficiently-stocked bars for our every-other-Friday girls’ night, which I’d been looking forward to roughly since the opening gavel had banged on Monday morning.

Before I could pick up the phone to return her call, my favorite detective returned mine.

“Why didn’t the shooter take the drugs and the money in Noah Smith’s house? The dead dealer, from last month?” I asked, barely bothering to tell Aaron good morning. “And was the murder scene this morning the same?”

He sighed, and I felt my eyebrows go up. That would be a yes. I fumbled for a pen.

LynDeeWalker**About author, LynDee Walker:

LynDee Walker grew up in the land of stifling heat and amazing food most people call Texas, and wanted to be Lois Lane pretty much from the time she could say the words “press conference.” An award-winning journalist, she traded cops and deadlines for burp cloths and onesies when her oldest child was born. Writing the Headlines in Heels mysteries gives her the best of both worlds. Her debut novel, FRONT PAGE FATALITY, is an amazon new humor #1 bestseller. LynDee adores her family, her readers, and enchiladas. She often works out tricky plot points while walking off the enchiladas. She lives in Richmond, Virginia, where she is working on her next novel. You can visit her online at www.lyndeewalker.com.

**Contact LynDee: Facebook   Goodreads   Pinterest   Twitter

**Click HERE to check out other stops on LynDee’s Chick Lit Plus Blog Tours!

**Everyone who leaves a comment on LynDee’s tour page will be entered to win a prize pack, which includes a Headlines in Heels swag pack and a $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble gift card! Anyone who purchases their copy of Crisis of Identity before  August 5 and sends their receipt to Samantha (at) ChickLitPlus (dot) com, will get five bonus entries.**

Filed Under: Front Page Fatality Tagged With: CLP blog tours, Excerpt, Front Page Fatality, LynDee Walker

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