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BOOK REVIEW: “Write Naked: A Bestseller’s Secrets to Writing Romance & Navigating the Path to Success”

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Write Naked: A Bestseller’s Secrets to Writing Romance & Navigating the Path to Success

Blurb: Learn how to transform your passion for writing into a career. New York Times best-selling author Jennifer Probst reveals her pathway to success, from struggling as a new writer to signing a seven-figure deal. Write Naked intermingles personal essays on craft with down-to-earth advice on writing romance in the digital age. Probst will teach you how to:

  • Commit to your current work-in-progress, get focused, and complete it on schedule
  • Reveal raw emotions and thoughts on the page to hook your readers
  • Assemble a street team to promote and celebrate your books
  • Overcome writer’s block with ease
  • Develop themes that tie together your books and series
  • Write the most difficult elements of romance–including sex scenes–with skill and style
Regardless of the genre, every novelist faces a difficult task. Creating authentic characters and an engaging plot are challenging enough. But attempting to break into the hotter-than-ever romance genre, which is constantly flooded with new titles and fresh faces? It can feel impossible. This is where Probst’s Write Naked comes in. To survive–and thrive–you need the help and wisdom of an expert.
Written in Probst’s unmistakable and honest voice, Write Naked is filled with the lessons and craft advice every writer needs in order to carve out a rewarding career.
My Review:  I cannot tell you how many self-help books I have on my bookshelf that are to help me with writing, though, when I try to start them, it’s hard to get through the first couple of pages. Everyone always says, “do it this way,” “this will work,” and so many more promises that will get you writing and on the bestseller list.
However, “Write Naked” is not a self-help, book, but rather a book of inspiration. Having decided to get back to my writing in July, the timing couldn’t have come better for me to read this book. I bought the paperback version, which means I have countless page turned down so I can go back and read them when I’m at a loss or am needing direction. I highly recommend this book for any romance writer, because I am guaranteed this it will inspire you. Not only does Jennifer share personal stories that you will be able to relate to but you will also finish this book feeling more ready to write, knowing that it’s normal to talk to your characters, have them tell you what they want, along with numerous other crazy to some, but normal for author thoughts. (I know I’m a crazy author person, and Jennifer made me feel okay with that!)
This is a book that I will never forget, and I know that it will be by my side for each book I write.
I give this book 5 stars!
**Reviewer note: If you have a paperback version, keep a highlighter next to you so you can highlight quotes and/or ideas that inspire you!
*****
**About the author: Jennifer Probst wrote her first book at twelve years old. She bound it in a folder, read it to her classmates, and hasn’t stopped writing since. She took a short hiatus to get married, get pregnant, buy a house, get pregnant again, pursue a master’s in English Literature, and rescue two shelter dogs. Now she is writing again.She makes her home in Upstate New York with the whole crew. Her sons keep her active, stressed, joyous, and sad her house will never be truly clean.

She is the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of sexy and erotic contemporary romance. She was thrilled her book, The Marriage Bargain, was ranked #6 on Amazon’s Best Books for 2012, and spent 26 weeks on the New York Times. Her work has been translated in over a dozen countries, sold over a million copies, and was dubbed a “romance phenom” by Kirkus Reviews.

She loves hearing from readers. Visit her website for updates on new releases and her street team at www.jenniferprobst.com.

Sign up for her newsletter at www.jenniferprobst.com/newsletter for a chance to win a gift card each month and receive exclusive material and giveaways.

*****

**GIVEAWAY**: **Click HERE for a chance to win a Kindle version of “Write Naked”!

Just Checkin’ In…

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Hey, everyone!

I wanted to let you know that while I’m still keeping up with Chick Lit Goddess (there’s a lot of great stuff coming up), I’ve been heavy into working on my next book, “Cards From Khloe’s Flower Shop.” I’d love if you head on over to my author site, Isabella Louise Anderson, and read a few blog posts about what’s coming up. Oh, and while you’re there, don’t forget to subscribe, too!

I’m leaving you with today’s post, “Excerpts, an Interview, Spotlights, and Reviews…Oh, my!“

~~Isabella~~

I’m Just Not Into You Kind of Books

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I take my job seriously as a book reviewer. I love to read, which is one reason I’m picky about the books I accept to review (I’m still not taking review requests at this time). However, if you’ve made the cut and I have accepted your offer (either in the past or future), this is a good thing. It means that I’ve liked the storyline enough to move on to the next step, which is reading the book. There have been weekends that I’ve been trapped in a book and can’t get myself to come out, even for Mexican food and margaritas — my weakness. For most of the time, books like these will get a 4 or 5 star from me. It means that not only is the writing good, but so was the story line. I enjoyed the characters, and the book “spoke” to me, (yes, there is such thing).

However, if I’ve accepted to offer to read and review it and can’t get motivated to get through the first five chapters (I always give it five), it’s hard for me to want to give you a good review, even if I love you and another book you’ve written.

This leads me to think several things:

1) The book was “sold” to me wrong/false advertising

Believe it or not, your book might have been sold to me wrong. Whether or not you or your publicist email me asking if I’d review your book, selling it is to me is a big key. However, being honest about what your book is about is huge for me. If one says that it’s about “this,” but it ends up about being “that,” you’ve already lost me.

My advice: People want to read your book, so don’t sell your book saying it’s one thing when it’s really not.

2) It’s not my genre in which I read (chick lit and women’s fiction)

The big debate over whether the proper term is chick lit or women’s fiction still gets to me (in my mind, it will always be chick lit), but these days there is definite distinction about what types of books these are. These are the books with the pretty covers, the drama over something (examples: a new job or a relationship gone wrong, and overcoming those issues, so that the reader and your character(s) are satisfied with the happy ending).

My advice: Define the genre of your book. If you’re torn between two (or even three) go with what you really think, and don’t focus so much on getting your book out there to the wrong people. Like I said above, make sure you pick the right blogger/reviewer.

3) No matter how hard I want to like your book, I just can’t

Have you ever noticed that reading books are a lot like a relationship? As much as you want it to work out, sometimes you can’t force it. You might want it to work because you loved the author’s other book(s), but for some reason this one you just can’t get into, and that’s okay. Believe it or not, the author doesn’t want to waste your time with their book if you’re not liking it, mostly because they know the review won’t be so good. In this case, it’s better to contact the publicist or author, let them know your situation, and then offer to help them out by either featuring the book in a different way.

My advice: As a reviewer, be honest. As an author of a book that someone can’t get into, know that there are other reviewers out there who will be willing to read your book, and they will enjoy it, so don’t give up on “selling it right,” making sure that the book went to the right genre, and that if someone doesn’t like your book, it’s time to find someone who will.

Laura Chapman

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Author, Laura Chapman: Laura Chapman found a way to mix her love of romance and humor as a women’s fiction author and blogger. A 2008 graduate of the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, Laura studied journalism, English and history. She traveled across the United States as a writer/photographer before settling into a career in communications. She also maintains Change the Word, a blog devoted to promoting women’s fiction and documenting her experiences as a writer.

Born and raised in Nebraska – in a city, not on a farm – she is a devoted fan of football, British period drama, writing in bars and her cats, Jane and Bingley.

INTERVIEW

Describe your writing style in five words: Quirky. Humorous. Romantic. Hopeful. Representative. (I hope!)

When did you want to know you wanted to be a writer? I can’t pinpoint a moment. I’ve always loved stories and knew I wanted to tell them. The first book I remember writing was in first grade. It was pretty much a plagiarized version of a Halloween song we sang in music, but it was fully illustrated.

During writing your book, “Hard Hats and Doormats”, describe your writing/editing/publishing process: It was definitely a process. I spent almost two years thinking about the story and developing the characters before I started. Then, I wrote the first 50,000 words during National Novel Writing Month in 2010. I finished the first draft a few months later and went through about four more drafts over the next three years.

During editing I removed and added several scenes, tightened up the text, changed the POV, and gave the story more focus. Some of the edits came from suggestions from beta readers and editors, and others were ones I felt needed changing the longer I spent with the story.

After a couple of years of unsuccessfully querying editors and publishers, I finally found the right home for my story with Marching Ink in August. Publishing went smoothly thanks to Samantha. She guided me through the process and shouldered the heaviest parts of the load. At the same time, she gave me the opportunity to have a voice in everything from the cover design and editing to the marketing and promotion. Working with her was a dream and made this process enjoyable.

Hard/paperbacks or eBooks? I love reading paperbacks when I’m in need of reading for comfort. When I’m reading for work – or back when I did book reviews – I preferred eBooks. For some reason they help me concentrate better. I think I’ll always prefer a physical book to eBooks, but my limited bank account and shelf space disagree.

What inspires you to write? The stories constantly brewing in my head.

Who is your favorite author? I have lots of favorites, but Nora Roberts is the one I admire most. She’s able to meld creativity with efficiency to be highly productive and prolific. I wish I had her dedication and stamina. I also have mad respect for my girl, Jane Austen. The lady was the original women’s fiction writer, and she managed to write timeless pieces that still reach readers more than 200 years later.

Where do you get your ideas for story lines? Everywhere. Sometimes I’ll hear a phrase or see an image that inspires me. The idea for Hard Hats and Doormats started when I saw the jumbled pile of maps, hard hats, steel-toed boots, and flip-flops littering my rental car floor. I do a lot of my heavy thinking while I’m driving and cooking.

What is something about you that people would be surprised to know? In high school I played several musical instruments. The oboe was my main instrument, but I also regularly played saxophone, English horn, piano, and percussion. I spent about half of high school planning to be a music teacher and professional performer.

How has the social media helped your career as an author? It connects me with fellow writers who give me support and readers who can talk books with me.

Coffee or tea? Both. I drink coffee first thing in the morning, or if I need a boost later in the day. Hazelnut is my favorite flavor. I drink tea throughout the rest of the day – usually English breakfast tea. I also have an unhealthy addiction to Diet Dr. Pepper and Diet Pepsi. Basically, my body runs on caffeine, and I’ll feed that need however I must.

What’s the best advice you’ve been given? Treat others the way you’d want them to treat the people who matter most to you. Usually, you want better for your loved ones than you do for yourself, and you should always strive to give your best to others.

What are you working on at the moment? In addition to promoting my debut novel, I have a couple of projects in the pipeline. I’m finishing up a round of edits on my second novel – a modernization of Jane Austen’s Persuasion – and the first draft of my third novel. Both are chick lit with plenty of romance and dry comedy. I also have a list of future project ideas I’m anxiously looking forward to writing.

GUEST POST

Five Dos and Don’ts During the Writing Process

Do: Keep good notes and documentation. Whether you’re a plotter or a pantser, it’s a good idea to keep track of everything you do. That could be keeping a journal or jotting down comments on a Post-it note. It will help you refocus on where you need to pick up next when you have to take breaks. At the same time, it’s a good record to have to keep track of your journey.

Don’t: Feel like you have to stick to your original plan. I’m a plotter by nature, but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to veer off the path if a better idea comes along. For example, Hard Hats and Doormats contains several scenes I never expected to pen when I carefully outlined the first draft. At the same time, I nixed a few before I even wrote them.

Do: Save and back-up your files. Your computer is one spilled latte away from turning on you. Save your novel to a flash/external/Internet drive – or all of the above. If you think losing a sock is a bummer, imagine losing half of your novel.

Don’t: Spend too much time on social media. I love Facebook and Twitter like crazy, and they serve their purposes. But they’re also one of the biggest distractions out there. Schedule time to devote to your social media platforms and focus on your other tasks the rest of the time. This is easier said than done, but it’s a nice goal to have.

Do: Carry a notebook, pen, or some other writing instrument with you at all times. You never know when inspiration will strike, and you’ll be annoyed or angry with yourself if you forget your beautiful idea, because you couldn’t find a pen.

Don’t: Stay at the party after you’ve outstayed your welcome. Sometimes, we writers fall in love with our characters and hate to say good-bye to them. I’ve heard a few writers mention that you should start your story as late as possible and end it as soon as possible to maximize the impact it has on readers or viewers if you’re a screenwriter or playwright. The ending to Hard Hats and Doormats comes sooner that I thought it would when I sketched out the plot. I cut out the original final scene after the second draft, and I never wrote the epilogue, because it made the story better. That being said, I’ve read and enjoyed many epilogues – there isn’t a hard, fast rule for every story.

Do: Draw inspiration from other sources, like your favorite books, movies and songs. Personally, I feel myself most motivated to write something awesome after I finish reading a beloved book or watching a favorite movie. I get to the end, and I’m like, “I want to do that. I want to write something that leaves someone saying, ‘Hell yeah.’” I also draw a lot of inspiration from music. Not only do I create playlists for each of my books – which I add onto and remove from throughout the process – but I’ll often listen to a song on repeat to help me get through a scene. If I’m writing something sad, a tearjerker will put me in the right mindset. If I need to get through a more technically challenging scene, I stick to instrumental music, because there aren’t any words to distract my thoughts. (I’m listening to “Songs for Sienna” as I’m writing this post.)

Don’t: Be too critical of yourself or others. It’s good to have guidelines and expectations, but everyone needs a break sometimes. The more you stress and worry, the harder – and less enjoyable – the process becomes.

Do: Be kind to the other writers and readers you meet along the way. Pay it forward whenever you can, whether that means beta-reading, participating in a launch party, or offering a friendly word of support. Someday, someone will do the same for you, and it will mean the world.

Don’t: Take yourself – or the process – too seriously. There will be moments for hunkering down and focusing, but make sure you don’t get too focused on the destination that you forget to enjoy the ride. Find something to laugh at – even if it means being the butt of your own joke. I always figure if you can’t laugh at yourself on occasion, you shouldn’t laugh at anything else. If you can keep your sense of humor through the tough moments, you’ll be better when you come out on the other side.

Hard Hats and Doormats“Hard Hats and Doormats” by Laura Chapman

Blurb: Lexi Burke has always been a stickler for following rules and procedures. As a human resources manager for a leading Gulf Coast chemical company, it’s her job to make sure everyone else falls in line, too.

But after losing out on a big promotion–-because her boss sees her as too much of a yes-woman––Lexi adopts a new policy of following her heart instead of the fine print. And her heart knows what it wants: Jason Beaumont, a workplace crush who is off limits based on her previous protocol.While navigating a new romance and interoffice politics, Lexi must find the confidence to stand on her own or face a lifetime of following someone else’s orders.

Who says nice girls have to finish last?

EXCERPT

Chapter One

Alexis Burke @theLexiBurke

Can a person refer to employees as Jackass 1 & 2 in an official report? Asking for a friend. #HRProblems #ThisIsMyLife

The universe keeps telling jokes and I’m the punch line. #IHaveProof

Okay, seriously. When did this become my life? Can I get a mulligan? #ObscureGolfAnalogyForLife

In kindergarten Sunday school, Lexi Burke imagined Hell as a fire-ridden, hate-filled pit below Earth’s surface. On a mighty throne of blackened steel and skulls, Satan preyed on the souls of the damned for eternity.

Twenty years later, she discovered a new version of Hell. It was a windowless conference room on an oil platform off the coast of God-only-knew-where Texas in the middle of May. The devil took form in two men, both middle-aged and madder than a hornets nest. Despite the sweat building on her neck, she shivered.

When did babysitting old guys become my job?

How mad do hornets get, and what does their nest have to do with it?

Where did I come up with that analogy?

Solving those mysteries had to wait. Casting a glance at the figures gathered around the badly chipped table, she considered the situation at hand. The two men, their union reps, and a team of local managers were going yet another round in their verbal sparring without a semblance of resolution. The representatives wanted the men to go back to work. The managers wanted to give them pink slips.

As the HR manager assigned – albeit at last-minute – to the investigation, she wanted to keep everyone from killing each other. Not an easy task, considering the two men under investigation already gave murder their best shot.

According to the initial report, the incident happened over the weekend. The men engaged in a particularly heated discussion about college football. The man to her right apparently took offense to the one on her left using derogatory names to describe his beloved team.

She grimaced at the list of profanities. Three or four of them merited HR intervention on their own. Then again, others struck her as downright creative. Note to self: Use “dag nab ass backwards pile of swamp waste” in a sentence later today.

The fight escalated when Mr. Right expressed his displeasure by raking his broken glass across Lefty’s face. A few days later, the wounds swelled red and blotchy. Her stomach churned when she examined their faces closely.

His opponent fared no better. Lefty managed a couple of solid jabs with a shard from a shattered plate. His cheek and eyebrow were held together with the help of twenty-two stitches.

How did these men still have jobs? Surely trying to kill your co-worker violated the Employee Code of Conduct. But because they had no previous violence on their records, the company’s agreement with the union guaranteed them the right to an investigation – this investigation.

“I told ‘em to back off and leave my Tigers alone,” Idiot Number One shouted. “But he started waving around his God-damned glass. I had to grab hold of something to protect myself. A man’s got a right to defend himself and his pride.”

“What the hell are you talking about, son?” Moron Number Two chimed in. “You were the one bent outta shape in the first place. He’s pissed because my Hogs’ll beat the hell out of this pussy lover’s team next year.”

Hogs? Tigers? Did these men seriously put their jobs and lives on the line over the Arkansas and LSU football teams? Did Lexi have to take team allegiances into consideration when she hired new employees to avoid catastrophe? Were SEC fans this torn up about football year-round?

Will we have full-on riots come September?

She struggled to recall the last two football seasons, but nothing came to mind. In her early days at Gulf America, she’d spent most of her life adjusting to the heavy travel schedule of a field HR representative. Current events, sports, and anything unrelated to HR dealings never entered her mind. She instead concentrated on getting through each day, never mind remembering what happened in the rest of the world.

What kind of fights should she expect when the Big 12 schools in Texas started beating up on each other in the fall?

God help us all.

Pulling her shoulder-length brown hair off her neck, she longed for a breeze. Not the kind from men yelling at each other, but a real, honest-to-God breeze.

She sighed and stared back at her notes. Even if the investigation proved the men deserved firing, she wouldn’t make the decision. Her worthless boss would be using whatever recommendations she gave him.

Dale seldom left his office during the work day. Unless he heard an ice cream truck. Then he raced out the door with a dollar in hand. Why bother leaving for something important–– like his job–– when he had minions like her to do his dirty work in the field? He reserved his energy to sweep in at the end when he took credit and – by all appearances – saved the day.

This time, he didn’t even have the courtesy to make his decision before dawn. In her eagerness to please – the department had a promotion up for grabs – she overlooked the faux pas that sent her straight to hell. Sure the Assistant Regional Director job would be more work, but it came with a healthy salary increase and less travel. And at twenty-four, she’d be the youngest director at headquarters.

The shouts escalated.

Is a promotion worth this?

Another realization hit Lexi like a ton of bricks. Damn, another random metaphor. This dispute would have long-term implications impacting more than her chances of promoting within the company. The safety department would surely ban glass cups and plates from company premises before the end of the week. The idiots had proven breakables were a liability Gulf America would no longer risk.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of one man knocking his coffee mug to the floor. Damn. Another dish casualty. The shattered mug brought Lexi’s attention back to the present. One of the local managers sent her a silent plea. Clearing her throat, she filled her lungs with the heavy air weighing on her chest.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” she began, in her sweetest drawl. A Midwesterner by nature and nurture, she spent the past two years cultivating her fake accent. It was useful in tense situations like this one. “I appreciate you sharing your perspectives. I’m sure both of your teams value loyal fans like you. But I need you both to take a few deep breaths and listen to what I say.”

She politely glared at the men. Their chests rose up and down in suppressed fury, but their mouths stayed shut.

“Violence is never the answer. It has no place in the sports arena or at work. Remember, you come from the same conference. Y’all should treat each other with the mutual respect your fine teams deserve.”

She paused for dramatic effect. She used a variation of the speech at least a dozen times in the past month alone. In her experience, a few well-timed beats of silence struck fear into the hearts of men better than a million words.

After giving her words room to settle uncomfortably, she continued. “Y’all need to treat each other respectfully. Not only because you’re co-workers and conference mates, but because you’re both good men with families who depend on you. Consider how you’d want someone to treat the people you love most. That’s how y’all should treat each other.”

The men had the good grace to bow their heads in shame. She mentally patted herself on the back for not flinching when she said “y’all.” Three times. When she moved to Texas after college, she swore she would never pick up the strange jargon.

It only took a month for the Southern slang to find its way into her vocabulary.

Sensing the men had finished their moaning, Lexi nodded at one of the managers to begin his end of the investigation. Leaning back in her chair, she scribbled on a copy of the report. She bored easily when her mind wasn’t constantly engaged. Doodling helped her maintain some focus on a situation without actively paying attention. As an added bonus, writing on paper gave everyone else the illusion she was busy.

On this day, she found paying attention to the investigation exceptionally difficult. Her afternoon meeting back at Corporate Headquarters would determine her future with Gulf America.

She made a note to dust off the training video about respectful language. More than likely, the oil rig’s crew would moan about having to sit through thirty minutes of bad acting. They’d also likely ignore the message, but she had to try.

For the men, she added a few suggestions for her boss to consider. They at least needed anger management counseling. Offering them a buyout in exchange for early retirement would satisfy the union and the company.

With her work done, she turned over her notes to doodle a picture. She drew two donkeys. One held a glass, the other a plate. Leaning back in her chair she admired her work, both the drawing, and the much more relaxed atmosphere in the conference room.

Damn she was good.

**Contact Laura: Website   Blog   Facebook   GoodReads   Twitter

**Click HERE to watch the book trailer of “Hard Hats & Doormats”

**Buy “Hard Hats and Doormats”: Amazon — Print & eBook   Barnes & Noble – eBook   Kobo – eBook   Marching Ink – Print

**Click HERE to enter to win a prize package of Lexi’s favorite things!

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**Click HERE to see more stops on Laura Chapman’s Chick Lit Plus Tours!

The Shy Author

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Hello, family, friends and followers!

This blog post has been in my mind for quite a while now, so I thought now is the perfect time! Last night was wonderful! My amazing husband created my author domain name, which means I will soon have an author page. (I hope you all follow me over there when it’s finished ;)) Also, last night I received an email from my cover designer. She sent me the final cover draft for “The Right Design”! It’s beautiful and I can’t stop staring at it! While the book isn’t finished being edited yet, it’s nice to know that part of the self-publishing process is almost over! All that’s left for me to do is write a short bio and submit a picture. Whew! **Oh, and today, with the lovely help of two awesome ladies, the blurb is completed!

Okay, to the main point of this blog post…A couple of days ago I stumbled upon a wonderful 3-month plan from 30 Day Books. Here is a link to Before You Publish Your eBook: A 3-Month Checklist! Since I’m publishing in January, this list is SO helpful. Out of the 14 items 3 months away from publishing, I have completed 6. As for as the things that need to be completed 2 months out, that’s where part of me wants to curl up in a ball and hide from the world. You see, I’m a shy person (though, some claim that not to be true). Sending emails about having people share the blurb and/or cover reveal and/or read and review my book, is making me panic. On a side note, which I find interesting, I’m not afraid of bad reviews! I’m afraid of asking, “Hey! I’m a new author and I wrote this book, The Right Design. Will you read it and post the blurb, the cover, and write a review on your blog, then share it on Amazon, B&N, and Goodreads?” What’s the worst that could happen? That they’ll say no. That’s not bad at all right, you just have to keep trying…well, in this case, I have to keep trying. This is where hiring someone  to ask those things for me would come in handy, but when I made the decision to self-publish, this was part of it and I’m not backing down.

Self-publishing is a business and if you want to be serious about your work by getting you and your books acknowledged, then you have to keep on, keepin’ on! My question for you is, if you’re a shy, self-published author, what works for you to get your book out there? Over time, does it get easier?

Until next time…this is Isabella Louise Anderson, wishing you all a great day and hoping you’ll read my book! 😉

Laura Barnard

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LauraBarnard

About author, Laura Barnard: My name is Laura Barnard and I am an author from Hertfordshire, UK.  I have just published my first chick-lit novel, The Debt & the Doormat, available via Amazon, Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, The Book Depository and many more. I am also Co-Editor and writer of NCT’s Watford branch magazine Watbaby.

In my spare time I enjoy drinking my body weight in tea, indulging in cupcakes the size of my face, drooling over hunks like Ryan Gosling, Matthew Bomer and Leo Dicaprio…oh and my husband of course!  I like getting flexible in yoga (I can finally touch my toes), am a real fan of the power nap and of course, READING!

I dream of one day being a best-selling author but in truth if only a handful of people like my books I will be just as happy.

INTERVIEW

Describe yourself in five words: Loud, friendly, animated, accident-prone and organized.

Congratulations on the publication of “The Debt and the Doormat”! How does it feel to be an author? Amazing!  Seeing my name online still gives me such a rush.  I’ve kept the first ever paperback too – I occasionally stroke it and give it a little kiss before bed.  Having people enjoy it too is such a magical feeling.  It really makes all the hard work worthwhile.

Have you always wanted to be a writer? Yes.  Since I was a young child I was always writing stories.  I originally dreamed of being a journalist but when I looked into it properly it sounded like a very competitive world.  As a lazy 18 year old that sounded like too much hard work for me.  If only I could go back to my young self and have a word!  But I love being an author; I can do it from my sofa, eating Jaffa cakes in my PJ’s.

Who or what inspires you? Everything!  I over-think most things so I can listen to a pop song and really imagine those emotions.  I also get ideas from stories I hear from friends and family.  I even have very vivid dreams that give me ideas.  Apparently I talk in my sleep and have been known to have full blown conversations with people that I have no recollection of.  People joke that I never shut up, even when sleeping!

What was the writing/editing/publishing process like for you? This time around my writing process was a bit all over the place.  I didn’t really have a plan or know what I wanted to write.  I sort of learnt while I went along.  Writing my second book should be a lot more constructed (hopefully).  I found it hard to edit my own work, but luckily my friend Karis Staniforth edited it for me.  She’s got such a good eye for detail.  Self-publishing was actually a lot easier than I imagined.  It’s the book awareness part that I find tricky and sometimes frustrating.  But I’ve always said that if only a handful of people enjoy it I’ll be happy and I’ve already had more positive comments than that.  My husband can tell as I have a big stupid grin on my face.

Hard/paperbacks or eBooks? I was always the one that said ‘I’ll never convert to a Kindle!’  I just love physical books so much.  The paper, even the smell of them is blissful.  I also hated the idea of using technology to relax.  I used to whine on about how it was my time to get away from technology.  But…I ordered a kindle when I published my e-book, as I thought I must know how easy it is for everyone else.  Now I’ve done a complete one-eighty and I love it!  It’s just so easy and instant.  Plus it stops my husband moaning about the light being on until the early hours of the morning as I’ve got the paper white.  I also think it will save me so much storage as I just don’t have the room for all of my books.  Maybe one day when I can build my own library, but for now its digital for me.

Describe what a typical day is like for you: Drag myself out of bed when my daughter wakes up, breakfast, out the door for a baby activity class (having forgotten most things I need).  Have a gossip with the other mums while trying to stop her from harming herself (the baby’s got a suicide mission, I swear!).  Then back for lunch, she goes down for a nap.  I power up the laptop and do some work on the book.  It’s very frustrating as most of the time I’m in the middle of something great when she wakes up.  I type frantically like a mad woman as I know once she’s up its game over.  She refuses to let me work with her around; trying to sit on the laptop/keyboard or strangling herself with the charger lead.  Its better actually as then I can dedicate myself to her and make it more quality time.  By the time we make it to her dinner time at 5pm I’m exhausted and desperate for Daddy to get home.  He’s barely in the door before I’m barking at him to run the bath so we can get her to bed.  I’m sometimes so tired that I’ll have a two hour nap once she goes down (I could seriously sleep for 20 hours a day if allowed) and then I’m back up doing book work until at least midnight or until my eyes literally glaze over.

How did you come up with the title of “The Debt and the Doormat?”: It was originally called Two Friends but I knew I wanted something more memorable.  My brother’s in a band and so is used to writing lyrics.  He read the first three chapters and started making suggestions.  It was while we were coming up with names that I shouted out ‘The Debt & the Doormat?’  I liked the ring to it and so The Debt & the Doormat was born.

Where is your favorite place to write? Before my baby was born I had her room as an office.  It was my favorite place.  I could hole up in there for days, listening to loud music and covering the walls with ideas while my husband was my tea boy.  Now I’m forced to write on my sofa with my dog cuddled up to me.  But the husband still brings me tea so it’s not all bad and I’m still doing what I love, just with less back support!

On your website I saw you like tea, what is your favorite kind? That’s funny as I now realize how many times I’m mentioned it just in this interview!  I love English breakfast tea with milk and one sugar (true Brit that I am!)  But I also drink lemon and ginger when I feel like I need a bit of a detox or to put it frankly, too many cupcakes!

What is the best advice you’d like to give to a new author? Just keep writing.  It can be overwhelming when you think of writing an entire book so just write something; anything.  Once you get going it’s easier for ideas to flow and before you know it you’ve got something.

Can you tell us about any of your upcoming projects? I was actually working on another stand-alone book, but due to popular demand I’m now writing the sequel for The Debt & the Doormat.  It makes me happy as I feel so invested in the characters all ready and love that I can give them a happy ever after.

“The Debt & The Doormat”

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Blurb:

Poppy and Jazz have been best friends from the first week of university.  Whenever these two get together trouble isn’t far away and things haven’t changed much.  When Jazz gets herself into financial trouble Poppy, being a good friend, offers to help.  She instead ends up being talked into swapping lives, with Jazz insisting it will be good and help her get over her broken heart.

Poppy is thrown into a new life, full of crazy housemates.  There’s fitness freak Izzy, horrendously beautiful bitch Grace and the slightly gorgeous, if not incredibly grumpy Ryan.  Quickly, with the help of Jazz, her life is thrown upside down.  Madness ensues and her need to please everyone gets her in more trouble than she could ever imagine.

Before she knows it she’s got a fake boyfriend and is hiding so many secrets she’s scared they’ll spill out any minute.  With a bullying boss, a sex crazed colleague, a mental mother and three brothers each with their own dramas, life has gotten pretty difficult for Poppy.  And all of this would be much easier, if she could just stop falling over.

Will she get her life back to normal before her brother’s upcoming wedding?  And will she want to?

Chapter 1 tease

‘You’re how much in debt?!’ I squeal looking into my best friend’s face.

‘Please,’ she says, throwing her hands up in defence.  ‘Don’t over-react.  It’s…totally manageable.’

I roll my eyes and breathe out harshly.  If I know Jazz it will be anything but manageable, or reasonable or ordinary for that matter.

‘Exactly how much?’ I demand, crossing my arms and trying my best to come across as intimidating.

‘Well I’m not going to tell you if you’re just going to scream at me!’ she shouts, flicking her long blonde curls behind her and collapsing back onto the sofa.

I take a deep breath and try not to over-react.  It can’t be that bad.  It can’t be as bad as when she nearly married that Scandinavian waiter because she claimed he was the best sex she ever had even though he couldn’t speak a word of English and supposedly proposed with an onion ring.  I mean, how much money could she have spent?  It’s not like she buys that many clothes, is it?  Then I notice her purple knee high boots.  Are they new?  I try so desperately to ignore her ridiculous wardrobe that maybe I’ve been blind to it.  Was she really getting herself into this mess before my eyes and I was too dumb to notice?

‘Ok,’ I say slowly, taking a deep breath to calm myself.  ‘How much debt are you in?’

I do my best to smile sweetly, trying to show how reasonable I’m now feeling, pushing the strong feelings of wanting to throttle her to the back of my mind.

‘Well, the truth…’ she begins, her small grey eyes staring up at me sadly, ‘is I don’t really know.  I just know that I keep getting letters and…And…’  She stops to wipe a tear that’s escaped from her eye.  ‘There’s red print on them saying final demand and I thought I could handle it, but now I just seem to be drowning in red letters!’  Her voice finally breaks with emotion and she grabs my silk cushion, cradling it tightly to her chest.

‘Oh Hun.’  I move to sit on the coffee table in front of her.

I hover my hands over her, trying to think of the best way to hug her.  I’ve never been very good with showing physical affection to friends.  Don’t get me wrong – I feel like I should hug someone in these situations – but I’ve never been much of a hugger, having grown up with three brothers.  If they wanted to show affection they’d punch me in the stomach, and I don’t think that would be very helpful.

I settle with patting her on the shoulder instead.  God I really hope she doesn’t get any tears on my pillow.  I can see them dripping down her sculptured cheeks, so close to the cushion that it’s almost touching.  Please not my beautiful cushion.  My Grandma gave it to me when I moved out and sewed in a message in silver thread.  Now she’s gone, I love it all the more.  I don’t want Jazz’s glitter mascara all over it.

‘Here,’ I say, passing her a tissue from the coffee table.

‘I’m fine,’ she sobs, pushing it away dramatically.

The tears are coming thick and fast now and now there’s snot trickling down her chin towards my beautiful purple sequinned cushion.  She’s never been much of a pretty crier.  Please, just give me the pillow.  Step away from the pillow.

‘I know!’ I shout, surprising Jazz with my sudden enthusiasm.  ‘If you leave now and go and get the letters then I can add it all up for you and we can work out how to get you out of this mess.  Yeah?’

I lightly grip the edge of the pillow.  If she’d just loosen her grip slightly I could whip it away from her.

‘They’re in my bag,’ she sniffs.  ‘Oh, but I can’t face them!’

She turns over and presses her teary face into the pillow.  Well, there goes my beautiful cushion.  That’s another one for the wash.  I should really hide nice things when Jazz comes round.  Maybe I’ll turn into one of those crazy women with plastic covers for the sofas.  It doesn’t really sound that crazy to me, just practical.  I do seem to drop a lot of stuff.

I try to pull myself together and think like a good friend.  Where was I?  Oh that’s right – the letters.  I run over to her giant pink patent bag and rummage in it to find her post.  God, she’s got all sorts of crap in here.  A DVD, a plastic baby spoon, a miniature Hindu elephant headed God, a big pink sort of rock or stone, a banana, a pair of 3D glasses, chopsticks, some rizlas and a Swiss army knife.  Jesus, she’s a kook.  I finally locate a stack of letters at the bottom.

‘Found them,’ I say, trying to sound cheery.  I walk back over to her and prise her away from the sofa before she can do any more damage.  ‘Come on,’ I say impatiently.  ‘We need to do this.’

‘Ok, ok.’  She wipes the tears from her face, smudging mascara all over her cheeks before sitting bolt upright; a sudden determined look on her face.  ‘But first we need some wine.’  She runs out of the room, coming back two seconds later with a bottle of Pinot and two glasses.

‘I still can’t believe you have all of this crap in your bag,’ I say, picking up the plastic baby spoon.

‘It’s useful actually.’ she says defiantly, snatching it from my hand.

‘Yeah I’m sure a baby spoon is real useful.’ I snort, rolling my eyes.

‘It’s for really small yoghurt pots actually.’ she says, herself like a petulant toddler.

‘Ok, so explain the rest,’ I challenge.

‘Fine, I’ll show you.’  She picks up her Swiss army knife and stabs the top of the bottle with it, managing to eventually prise the cork out.  ‘Tah dah,’ she smiles, looking very proud of herself.

‘And the rest?’ I ask, as she pours wine into my glass with little bits of cork floating in it.

‘Easy,’ she smiles.  ‘The DVD is one someone at work lent me, the banana for potassium, obviously.  The chopsticks in case I have Chinese, duh. And the glasses are from a 3D movie I saw the other day.’

‘And these?’ I ask holding up the mini statue and rock.

‘For my inner peace and wellbeing.  Obviously.’

‘Oh, of course, obviously.’

I laugh to myself as I root around for my calculator.  When I eventually find it in the oven, which I use for storage as I have an aversion to cooking, I start adding up the totals.  Jazz flicks through a magazine, seeming to have already gotten over the stress.  There are at least five letters but their totals don’t seem that high.  She must just be being a drama queen.  I’m sure it’s totally fine.

The total finally flashes up on the screen and I do a double take.  Oh Jesus, this can’t be right.

‘What?  How much is it?’ Jazz asks, pouting her lips from behind the magazine; still barely showing any concern.

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.  What can I say?  This is definitely not going to make her feel better.

‘Chick, you’re worrying me now.  Please just tell me.  How much?’  She stares at me for a moment and her expression quickly changes when I can’t meet her eye.  She takes a large gulp of wine, her hands trembling.

‘I must have added up wrong.’  I touch my temples, which have started to throb.  I press clear and start to add them up again.

‘How fucking much?’ she demands impatiently.

I take a gulp of wine myself for courage.  ‘Five thousand.’

Jazz sits silently for a moment, her pretty features contorted in shock and horror.  She slowly puts her glass down onto the coffee table, still completely bewildered.  She grabs the bottle of wine and begins urgently chugging on it.  She stops when she’s out of breath and looks up at me, her eyes scared and vulnerable.

‘Fuck.’

‘Yeah, fuck indeed.’

There’s an awkward silence while I desperately try to think of something to do or say to make her feel better.  There must be something, right?  I’m sure if I watched more Jeremy Kyle I’d be better equipped to deal with situations like this.

‘There’s only one thing we can do in a situation like this,’ she announces, standing up.

I don’t believe it.  In this moment of madness she has a plan.  For once, my ‘go with the flow’ friend has a plan.  Everything is going to be ok, thank God.

‘Yes?’ I ask, trying to hide how impressed I am.  The feeling of sickening panic starts to drain out of my stomach.

‘Get totally fucked.’ she nods.

She grabs hold of my arm and drags me into my kitchen before I can show my disapproval.  The tequila bottle is grabbed out of the cupboard and before I can protest she’s forced me to do five shots.  The picture on my fridge of the two of us in Ibiza with traffic cones on our heads reminds me of the last time I drank tequila.  She helps me out of the kitchen with another bottle of wine in her hand, turning the stereo on full blast.

‘Get serious for a second!’ I shout over my Abba CD.  It’s this carefree attitude that’s got her into this mess.

‘Ok,’ she says, sighing heavily as she begrudgingly turns the music down slightly.

‘You need to start paying this off.  How did you even get yourself in this mess anyway?  I thought your Mum paid your credit card bill?’  The tequila fog is starting to cloud over me.  I fight it, desperate to sort this out.

‘She’s cut me off.  Edward’s persuaded her that I should grow up and act my age.  Can you believe that prick?’

‘He’s probably right,’ I reason, already slurring my words.

‘How can you say that?  She already gave me the budget of a poor person!  You know how I hate him.’  She juts her jaw out, beginning to sulk.

Edward is her Mum’s current husband.  I say current because he’s her fourth.  She first married Jazz’s Dad when she was 22 and he was 80 with a heart complaint.  He owned a porn empire and was worth an absolute mint.  She obviously thought he’d die very quickly, but the old bastard ended up living for another ten years to the grand old age of 90.  When he died he left them very rich.  Very rich.

Carol didn’t need to marry again.  She could have quite happily lived off that money for the rest of her life, but she was quick to give her heart away again.  She fell in love with Harry, a playboy that she travelled the world with while Jazz was expelled from several boarding schools.  That quickly ended when she discovered his affair with the maid.

Then came Raul, their Spanish villa’s pool boy.  She was completely convinced that it was the true thing and insisted he wasn’t after her money.  She moved over there and lived happily for a while, drinking Sangria and dancing to Salsa.  It only took her a year to realise it was pure lust and he was in fact after her money.  She agreed a settlement; small compared to the money she still possessed, and he was on his way.

And now she has Edward.  A stern skinny man, who never smiles and lives in a suit.  I actually like his dry sense of humour and the way that he makes Carol happy.  Since meeting him they’d moved from Chelsea to the Sussex countryside where they bought a fabulous Grade II listed farmhouse.  They now spend their days looking after horses and protecting chickens from fox attacks.

‘Look, I’m sorry.  But if you ever want to start paying this off you’ll have to start living frugally for a while.  A long while actually.  I need to just totally take over your life and sort you out.’

‘Oh thanks!  If you had your way I’d be living like you, bored and lonely in a flat all on my own.’

‘Hey!’ I say, hurt by her sudden outburst.  ‘I’m not bored and lonely.  I’m totally happy with my life, thank you very much!’

Since when did she think I was such a loser?

‘Oh purlease!  How can you be?  You spend most evenings alone.  You never want to do anything since you broke up with Stuart and that was nearly a year ago.’

I wince at the mention of his name.  She knows the rules – we don’t talk about him.

‘That’s not true!  I wanted to wear my dressing gown all day and eat Jaffa cakes for lunch. I wanted to start drinking in the morning. Don’t say that I don’t have goals!’

She ignores my attempt at humour and looks at me seriously.

‘You need to start being a bit free.  Start living for the moment.’

‘Yeah and you need to start being a bit more trapped in for a while!  Stop wasting money.  I mean, how did you even get in this mess?’ I pick up one of the many statements and scan it.  ‘£89 in Bar Res, £60 in Monsoon, £110 in Threshers.  Jazz, most of this is just on clothes and going out getting trashed.’

‘It’s called living,’ she says, looking at me as if I were pathetic not to do this sort of thing.

Well sorry for being responsible.

‘It’s called five grand in debt,’ I snap.

We both shudder from the sound of that number again.

‘Ok, well maybe I’ll start being better with money if you start being worse with it,’ she says, a mischievous glint in her eye.

‘Why would that be of any benefit to me?’ I say smugly, feeling sorry for my clueless friend.

‘Pops, what happened last Saturday night on CSI?’

‘Ok, well Catherine and Nick found a body in an alley and……Alright, I get your point.’

‘Look, the only way I’m going to change is if you promise to as well,’ she says, running her hands through her knotted hair.  I suddenly feel un-nerved.  ‘You’re throwing your life away, sitting around waiting for Mr Right to come crashing through your living room on a white horse.’

White horse, how dramatic.  And I’d much prefer a Porsche.

‘Ok…what would I have to do?’ I ask, my stomach fluttering with sudden fear.

‘Easy.  We swap lives.’

‘We swap lives?’ I say, displeasure showing in my voice.

‘Yep.  We swap houses and start living each other’s lives.  Each of us can’t make a single decision without asking the other first what we should do.  And we have to do what the other says, regardless of whether we like it or not.’  She leans back and smiles triumphantly as if this is the best idea she’s ever had.

‘So wait a minute.  If I say that you have to stay in and watch DVD’s for a whole week you would?’

‘Absolutely,’ she nods.  ‘Just like if I said you needed to go out and get drunk every night you would.’

‘Why the hell would I need to go out and get drunk every night?’

‘Chick, it’s time,’ she says, smiling sympathetically.  ‘You need to get back to the old you.’

‘What do you mean, the old me?  I’m the same person.’  I cross my arms.

‘Come on chick.  Before…him, well you were so much fun.  You were a force to be reckoned with.  It’s like you were a hurricane and now you’re just a gust of wind.’

‘Thanks for the imagery,’ I say sarcastically, smiling despite myself.

‘Seriously though chick.  You’ve become a shadow of yourself.  Stu…I mean…he was too busy keeping you down.  He took over.  Before you met him you used to rule your own world and you were great at it.’

‘I’m fine,’ I snap sharply, wishing she’d just shut up.  She’s the one with the problem.

Yet she starts me thinking.  I mean she’s totally getting the raw end of the deal.  I’m going to be so tight with her money she’ll have that debt paid off in no time and in return I just have to go on a few nights out.  I can just go along with it and pretend to her it’s a project for me if it makes her happy.

And maybe I could do with a change.  I think about my current evenings spent slobbing in my gravy stained velour tracksuit bottoms while I eat a family sized Dairy Milk and consume at least one bottle of wine.  Some evenings I even finish it off with a shot of Night Nurse just so that I’ll be able to get to sleep through the pathetic tears.

‘Ok, it’s a deal.’

‘Deal.’  She shakes my hand with a wide smile on her face.

I shiver as I suddenly feel I may have made a big mistake….

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LauraBarnardPic2**Contact Laura:

Email: lauralovesherdog@hotmail.co.uk   Website   Facebook   Twitter

Jami Deise

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JamiDeisePic

About author, Jami Deise: A lifelong resident of Maryland, Jami Deise recently moved to St. Petersburg, Florida, along with her husband Tom, son Alex, and dog Lady. A baseball mom for over 10 years, “Keeping Score” is her first novel. Jami is an associate reviewer at www.chicklitcentral.com and a generalist reader for an NYC-based literary agency. Along with women’s fiction, she loves all things horror and watches too much TV.

INTERVIEW

Describe your writing style in five words:  Lots of time, few words.

Who or what inspires you?  My son. He has an amazing work ethic and never gives up.

Congratulations on your debut novel, “Keeping Score!” How does it feel to be an author? Bittersweet. I was really hoping to be traditionally published.

What was the writing/editing/publishing process like for you?  On the other hand, publishing was definitely the easiest part of the process. Once I had committed to indie publishing, it was fairly easy to find a great formatter/cover designer and then just upload the files. While getting the word out is challenging, I’m still amazed the entire publishing process, from the time I decided to go indie, took less than a month.

How did you celebrate after your book was published?  I bought several copies of my book!

Salty or sweet?  Sweet!

Hard/paperback or eBooks?  Definitely eBook. I love being able to take my Kindle everywhere.

Describe what a typical day is like for you:  Get up, walk the dog, go to the gym, write 1000 words, read whatever review project I’ve got going on.

What are you reading right now?  Yesterday I just finished Priscille Sibley’s “The Promise of Stardust,” which was amazing. Tomorrow I need to start reading a manuscript for the agency I work for. I hope it’s a good one!

Five years from now, where do you want to be in your writing career?  I’d love to have a deal with a traditional publisher. Knowing how your next book is going to be published before you’ve even written it sounds like an amazing luxury.

Every writer must have a…: brilliant, honest beta reader! Or five.

Can you tell us about any upcoming projects?  Actually, I have two: a vampire story I am adapting from a screenplay I wrote 10 years ago, and another women’s fiction novel. The vampire is in its 3rd draft; I just finished the 1st draft of the women’s fiction novel.

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“Keeping Score” by Jami Deise

Blurb:  When her son Sam asks to try out for a travel baseball team, divorced mom Shannon Stevens thinks it’ll be a fun and active way to spend the summer. Boy, is she wrong! From the very first practice, Shannon and Sam get sucked into a mad world of rigged try-outs, professional coaches, and personal hitting instructors. But it’s the crazy, competitive parents who really make Shannon’s life miserable. Their sons are all the second coming of Babe Ruth, and Sam isn’t fit to fetch their foul balls. Even worse, Shannon’s best friend Jennifer catches the baseball fever. She schemes behind the scenes to get her son Matthew on the town’s best baseball team, the Saints. As for Sam? Sorry, there’s no room for him! Sam winds up on the worst team in town, and every week they find new and humiliating ways to lose to the Saints.

And the action off the field is just as hot. Shannon finds herself falling for the Saints’ coach, Kevin. But how can she date a man who didn’t think her son was good enough for his team … especially when the whole baseball world is gossiping about them? Even Shannon’s ex-husband David gets pulled into the mess when a randy baseball mom goes after him. As Sam works to make friends, win games and become a better baseball player, Shannon struggles not to become one of those crazy baseball parents herself.  In this world, it’s not about whether you win, lose, or how you play the game… it’s all about KEEPING SCORE.

Chapter One Teaser

It was Saturday, May 11th, and Sam was where he usually spent his Saturdays – in the goalkeeper’s box on the soccer field in Capital Crescent Park. I was on the sidelines with my best friends Jennifer, Mary Beth, and Laura. They were the mothers of Sam’s best friends Matthew, Nick, and Josh. The action was getting heated, and so were we.

“Let’s go, Matthew!”

“Stay with him, Nick! Stay with him!”

“Just run past him, Josh!”

We frequently had laryngitis on Mondays.

Their husbands were all clumped together further down the sidelines. They were also yelling. But in between the action they whispered and stared daggers at the boys’ coach, Franco. I knew from previous games that they were probably complaining that Franco knew nothing about soccer, despite having grown up in Brazil and having played on a team that trained for the Olympics. Which was why we hired him. Perhaps it was overboard to hire a professional coach for a 4th grade boys rec soccer team, but this was Persimmon. Competition underscored even the closest friendships, and the biggest source of competition was our children. Who tested as gifted and talented in the second grade? Whose fourth grade rec soccer team was the best? Who was the most outstanding athlete, musician, singer? It was worse than Lake Wobegone. In Persimmon, above average wasn’t nearly good enough.

With less than a minute to play, we were winning by one goal when a boy from the other team got the ball on a breakaway. I could barely watch as he headed right toward my baby. Alright, at five-foot-two and a hundred and ten pounds, Sam was the biggest kid on the field, but still. And this boy was half his size.

But still.

The kid – let’s call him Lucifer – charged toward the goal. Sam crouched down. Lucifer went for the final big kick. Sam leapt into the air. Took the ball square in the stomach. It bounced off of him, back onto the field. The teenage ref whistled: Game over.

Ten screaming Rockets jumped onto my son in celebration. The dads high-fived. Some of the moms hugged. Lucifer and his teammates slumped off the field. They sparked back to life when they saw the elaborate “snack” their parents had provided. Our juice boxes and pretzel sticks looked paltry by comparison.

The next two teams were taking over, so the boys scarfed down their food and we headed out. I folded my chair into its carrying sack and fell into step with Sam, Laura and Josh as we headed to the parking lot. Lucifer and his mother were right in front of us. I thought about catching up to them to congratulate the boy on his footwork. But his mother’s voice carried loudly down to us.

“That would’ve been a goal if that keeper weren’t so fat.”

I gasped. Sam turned beet red and tears filled his eyes. Something inside of me snapped. I jogged up to the woman and touched her arm.

“That goalkeeper is nine years old and is standing right behind you.”

At least she had the decency to look embarrassed. She grabbed her son’s hand and pulled him to the other side of the parking lot.

JamiDeisePic**Contact author, Jami Deise:

Email: JamiDeise@aol.com   Website   Facebook   Twitter

Excerpt of Stained by Elizabeth Marx

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Today is the release day of “Stained,” written by one of my favorite authors, Elizabeth Marx! With great pleasure, I’m sharing an excerpt of the book.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

 
“Is that why you were living in the same city as me and you never came to see me?” I asked a little bit more accusatorially than I meant to. “Why didn’t Mandy call me or come to see me?”
 
His jaw seemed to harden as he looked over the top of his sunglasses. “Do you want to know about me or Mandy?”
 
I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
 
“Maybe I was just admiring you from afar as I always have.” Revell merged onto the highway in the direction of Crossroads.
 
I snorted. “What’s Mandy’s excuse?”
 
Revell took one hand off the steering wheel and rubbed the back of his neck. “She took Daddy’s death hard and she’s been busy with school there.”
 
“So for some reason, which you won’t explain to me, one of few people I consider a true and loyal friend came to live in my home town and she didn’t even want to see me?”
 
Revell sighed. “Since you didn’t come here when Daddy died, maybe she thought your friendship was over.”
 
“Is that what you thought? That our friendship was over?”
 
“We weren’t friends, Scarlett, don’t fool yourself into believing that!”
 
“Then I’d like to know what we were?” I countered angrily.
 
He wouldn’t look at me, and his voice was rough and tense when he spoke. “You knew I’ve wanted you in every way a man can want a woman since you were fifteen.”
 
“Friendship is better than nothing, especially when what you wanted to happen between us was completely inappropriate.”
“It was only wrong if it was one sided or if I’d acted on it when you were under age.”
 
“The summer I was fifteen and Mamaw found us in the deer stand you came pretty close to you going to jail.”
 
“The age of consent in Alabama is bit lower than it is up North.”
 
“You were twenty, it was a crush on an older man on my part. What was it on your part?”
 
Revell paused, turned, and looked me up and down. “It was I’m going to rot in hell because I want a minor or I’m going to die a slow death because I don’t believe I can live without her.”
 
I grumbled in disbelief, “And yet here you are perfectly healthy and happy.”
 
“You were the one who just said that I don’t smile the way I used to.”
 
I moved away from his ire closer to the door. “Are you blaming me?”
 
“I’m not blaming anyone, I’m just trying to tell you how I feel because you wouldn’t let me tell you back then, and you never came back to let me explain how it was.” Revell sighed. “Why didn’t you come when I wrote you?”
“I couldn’t.”
 
“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”
 
“Couldn’t, Revell, couldn’t.”

 

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About the Author: Windy City writer, Elizabeth Marx, brings cosmopolitan life alive in her fiction—a blend of romance, fast-paced Chicago living, and a sprinkle of magical realism. Elizabeth resides with her husband, girls, and two cats who’ve spelled everyone into believing they’re really dogs. She grew up in the city, has traveled extensively, and still says there’s no town like Chi-Town.
 

 
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Thanks To Technology, Are More or Less Books Sold?

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If you’re like me, you look around your surroundings (where it be an airport, a doctor’s office, the beach, etc.) and take note of what other people are reading. Well, a few days ago, I was at the nail salon and I observed something. With classic love songs being played in the background and my fake nails were being put on, I saw a lot of other women around with their iPads and iPhones, swiping pages. This leads me to think they were reading. Well, what book was it? Was it something along the lines of “Fifty Shades of Grey” that they wanted to hide, or was it more tame, like a wonderful summer read I recommend, “Finding Lucas” by Samantha Stroh Bailey? Nobody knew that I was reading “In Need of Therapy” by Tracie Banister, which had me laughing out loud.

This led me to observe something else. While word of mouth is good for book sales, how much does seeing a book matter? Being a visual person, I think it means a lot. I like to see where pages have been turned down and bookmarks between pages because it makes me think it’s a good book, so they kept going, at least that’s what most people I know do. I’m most likely to go buy a new book if I see someone reading it, and of course, because of the cover. For me, covers really so sell, but how do I see the pretty cover if they’re reading on an eReader?

Don’t get me wrong, I love technology a lot, especially its convince. I can be anywhere and be reading! How cool is that?! Does the fact that you can  buy books with just one button, or since so many people are self-publishing and sell their books for low-cost, truly matter anymore?

Part of me thinks that books will be obsolete, which saddens me. I still have my .99 cent 1981 version of Cinderella, which was the year I was born. To me, that’s priceless, but these days, kids don’t know what a paper book is. I could go on and on about how much I think it’s important for kids to read “real” books, but these days “real” books are iBooks/eBooks.

I want your opinion. Thanks to technology, are more or less books sold?