Helping a Friend by Alicia Dean

I met a new writer friend a few months back through my first cousin once removed, Michael. (I used to think he was my second cousin, until a comment on a blog post set me straight. Do you know the difference? I have trouble remembering, but there IS a difference J) But I digress… This writer, Tina Fausett, is Michael’s neighbor, and he brought her to one of our Friday Martini Club  get-togethers. I liked her instantly! She’s personable and lovely, and has quite an interesting past. Coincidentally, she had just submitted to The Wild Rose Press, although another editor had her manuscript. I asked the editor if I could take over, and I did, but unfortunately, while her writing and her book are excellent, it wasn’t really a fit for TWRP. However, I encouraged her to self-publish. But, since the book left off on a cliff hanger, and since it was to be continued, and since it was very long (well over 100,000 words), I suggested she publish it in installments, making it clear that each one was ‘to be continued’ and setting a price of 99 cents for each appx 20,000 word installment, and releasing them 3 weeks apart.

She liked the idea, and we began working together. I am helping with edits, covers, uploading to Amazon and a little with marketing.

The first installment releases this Tuesday. It is not up for pre-order, but we plan to put the next installment up for pre-order with each release.

What do you think about an ongoing saga like this? I’ve been thinking for a long time that I would SP a soap-opera type continuing saga in this same manner, so this is good practice for me (if I ever get it written, after I write the two current projects that MUST get written soon!!). To me, as long as readers know it’s to be continued, they won’t feel cheated. Let’s hope I’m right! J

Tina is just now getting her Facebook page up and running. If you don’t mind, she’d love some likes:

https://www.facebook.com/tinafausettauthor/

Here is the cover and blurb:

A jealous, malevolent wife hooked on prescription drugs, a husband caught between reality and erotic fantasies, and an angel cast from heaven, are all bound together by their hatred for one woman whose spells and manifestations catch them in a downward spiral towards hell...Gina Faulkner, thought to be a voodoo queen, owner of Swamp Witch Pickles in New Orleans, is the center of it all.

Bane Colton, dangerous and cocky, sees Gina at the French Market and the game is on. He makes up his mind he's going to break the feisty redhead with the infamous kinky reputation, body and soul. And Gina's ready to be a player, until Bane’s estranged and demented wife, Beverly, wants him back.

Enter enigmatic Darsh, known to many as the Angel of Death, who’s watched over Gina since she was fifteen and has loved her almost as much as he’s hated her. Now they would come face to face. He could save her from certain peril, but could never save her from herself. Would she destroy them all? At the very least, a shift in the universe was coming.

First Line Fun by Jannine Gallant

I know it's hot outside...all the more reason to think about snow! It's that time of year when the Roses plan their Christmas stories. We'll be posting them starting right after Thanksgiving weekend and wrapping up at Christmas, and we need your help. We have 13 first lines written anonymously by our authors, and we need to narrow the field to the most popular choices. Every story will begin with the same first line. If you could please leave a comment with your top two choices, you can help determine the fate of our stories this year!

Here they are in no particular order:

1.     “I can’t believe you did that.”

2.     The unexpected snowstorm changed everything.

3.     Oh no, not today.

4.     She peered through the snow-spattered windshield at the neon sign and hoped like hell there was room at the inn.

5.     I’ll take the shoes.

6.     She was skipping Christmas this year.

7.     How did that get in here?

8.     How could this day get any worse?

9.     She tugged the beard, horrified when the bright blue eyes watered and the cherry red lips yelped.

10.  “No presents this Christmas…”

11.  Playing Santa for one night would save her.

12.  Even Rudolph would have been grounded by the storm's intensity.

13.  And there it was--the perfect gift.

Thanks for helping us out!

If you're looking for a summer beach read that will give you chills, pick up a copy of LOST INNOCENCE at your local Barnes & Noble or download a copy at Amazon. Happy reading!

Judging a Book...by Betsy Ashton

It is not true that readers don't judge a book by its cover. We do. Sometimes we buy a book because the cover is intriguing, exciting, mysterious. I have often bought a book because I liked the front cover and the back blurb. And as a writer, I know how hard it is to write the blurb to attract readers and not mislead them.

So, we are about to go to school on my psychological suspense novel, Eyes Without a Face.  I worked with a boutique publisher who has a cast of professionals on speed dial. I'm one of his editors, so I work with some of his authors to polish manuscripts.

I selected one of his cover designers to help give Eyes a spooky look and feel. We came up with this. I think we achieved spooky. The dark brown color wash added a hint of danger without being overt. We chose the hoodie because the killer often wears one when she kills. We went with yellow on brown in keeping with that color palette. So far, so good.

We needed a face in the hoodie. After adding a host of different images using PhotoShop, we came up with nothing that worked. Last summer, my DIL, who is a photographer, suggested we take a pic of her husband, black out the face, and drop in a set of creepy female eyes we'd found in open source photo galleries.

We thought we had a winner. The book came out to solid reviews. All but one. That one focused on the cover. The reader would have given me 5 stars had the cover been different. About the same time, I did a series of book signings and talks. I sent out 100 postcards with the eyes themselves on the front. Sales were good but not great.

Three events in a row taught me that the cover was wildly misleading. Not only did the cover not reinforce the salient fact that the main character, who is also the first person narrator, is a bloody female. Pun intended. She's a serial killer. She tells the story her way. She's unreliable. She lies. And the cover lies as well.

People asked what the book was about. I did a bit of research to see what readers thought. They gave me three different ideas about the connotation of the image.

OMG! No, the book is not about the Unabomber. No, the book is not about Jihadi John, the Brit who became the public executioner for ISIS. And no, the book is not about Trayvon Martin. I don't feel qualified to write about any of these three, particularly not Trayvon, whose tragic death touched me deeply.

Oh, what to do? Hire a different cover designer, of course. And, true to wanting a build up for the reveal, you'll have to wait until my next post. Yup, teaser that I am, you'll have to curb your inquiring mind for another few days. Giggle. I hope you like it.

###

Betsy Ashton is the author of the Mad Max mystery series, Unintended Consequences, Uncharted Territory, and Unsafe Haven. She also wrote a dark psychological suspense novel, Eyes Without A Face, about a female serial killer, who unpacks her life and career in first person.

Amnesia and a New Release by Diane Burton

How did it get to be the 16th of July already? I thought I had days before my post was due. Must be a case of NewRelease Amnesia. I spent last week running from one blog to another promoting my newest book, NUMBERS NEVER LIE, a romantic suspense. The week before, I had to write all those blogs. So, July disappeared in a blink.

A topic lately here has been promotion--what works and what doesn't and how do we know? I like to blog. Short, focused posts with a purpose. I like telling people about my stories. I like finding the perfect (for the topic) excerpt. When I've read other blogs promoting a new book, I skim the excerpt because I've read it before. I try not to use only one excerpt. But, there are only so many excerpts you can add without giving away the book.

Does blogging help? I like to think so. But how can I tell? As an indie writer, I can see the results daily on Amazon's Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP). How accurate are the numbers? Good question. I have to trust KDP to record them. I've checked a few time since last Monday (release day) and I'm pleased so far. If the comments on the blogs are any indication, the book should be flying off the virtual shelves. LOL People are being polite, kind even.

This weekend while I took a breather from the blog tour, I didn't look at my calendar. I knew I didn't have any posts scheduled for today. Wrong! So here I am late, with apologies. I must have been hit with amnesia.

NUMBERS NEVER LIE

Blurb:

A shocking secret brings danger to Jack Sinclair and his sister Maggie.

As kids, they were the fearless threesome. As adults, Jack's an accountant; Drew, a lawyer; Maggie, a teacher and camping troop leader. Upon returning from a weekend camping trip, Maggie receives horrifying news. She refuses to believe her brother Jack’s fatal car crash was an accident. If the police won’t investigate, she’ll do it herself. Convincing Drew Campbell to help is her only recourse.

Drew Campbell was too busy to return his best friend’s phone call. Too busy to attend a camping meeting important to his teen daughter. Too busy to stay in touch with Jack. Logic and reason indicate Jack’s accident was just that--an accident caused by fatigue and fog. Prodded by guilt, he’ll help Maggie even if he thinks she’s wrong.

A break-in at Jack’s condo convinces Maggie she’s right. Then her home is searched. What did Jack do that puts Maggie in danger?

Excerpt

“What do you mean no toilets?” Drew Campbell stopped on the dusty forest path, hooked his sunglasses on the placket of his golf shirt, and stared at his daughter.

“Dad-dy.” Ellen groaned. Was she only fourteen? She did exasperation better than his administrative assistant. “I told you we were camping.”

Not for a moment would Drew reveal that camping was not what he remembered her saying a week ago. She said she wanted him to come along on an outing with her little group of friends. He figured a hike, picnic lunch, and then home in time for supper.

After taking a call on his cell in the parking lot near the trailhead, he’d gotten his first surprise. That’s when he found out about the “no electronics rule.” No cell phones, no iPods. All were locked in the vehicles. Only the leader carried a cell phone, for emergencies only.

His second surprise came when he opened the hatch of the Navigator. Five backpacks. Five backpacks with bedrolls. He’d transported four girls. It didn’t take a law degree to figure out who the fifth backpack was for. He was in deep shit. But what could he say in front of Ellen and her friends?

“Of course, sweetie. I knew we were camping.” A lie to save face wasn’t wrong. Right?

“Yeah, sure, Dad.”

She didn’t believe him? What happened to the adulation that used to be in her eyes? The “Dad is perfect” look.

He tried again. “Camping, like KOA. You know, kiddo, shower buildings, restrooms, flush toilets. Right now, I’d settle for a port-a-potty.”

Ellen groaned again. “Da-ad.”

If he didn’t know better, he’d wonder if she had a stomach ache.

As he’d done several times in the past three hours, he took out his handkerchief, looked at it in disgust, and tried to find a clean spot. He wiped the sweat off his forehead. It was hot and sticky, more like August in Michigan than June. Drew intensely disliked sweating. Clean sweat—in a gym—was all right. Not this . . . dirt. More than sweaty, he hated being dirty.

Considering the rain in early spring, he was surprised at how dry the path was. And how much dust twenty feet could kick up on a forest path. That, however, was not his first concern. He needed a john. Bad.

“C’mon, Ellen. Isn’t there a restroom nearby?” he asked quietly. “Even an outhouse?”

“Dad, this is Prim.” Ellen had mastered the art of eye rolling. As he’d learned in the past few months, that innate skill emerged in girls during adolescence.

“Prim? What is that?” Drew gave her the self-mocking grin that always made her laugh. “A new all-girl rock group?

Ellen wasn’t smiling. She lowered her voice. “It means Primitive Camping. We go in the bushes.”

“What!” He looked around, realizing that the other girls were staring at him. He hadn’t meant to sound so loud.

“You are embarrassing me.” She stomped away, kicking up more dust. Before she got to her friends clustered nearby, she shot over her shoulder, “I wish you’d never come. I knew it was a dumb idea to ask you.”

“Hey, come back here, honey. I’m sure this is a little misunderstanding. C’mon, Ellen.” In the year since his wife died, he and Ellen had had a lot of misunderstandings.

“I think she’s mad at you.”

Drew turned toward the quiet voice behind him. There she was, leaning back against a tree, her knee bent and booted foot propped against the trunk. Maggie Sinclair, Director of Camp Hell. He knew Jack’s sister was an outdoor nut, but he didn’t think she was this bad. Pissing in the bushes, for God’s sake.

Maggie was a tall woman, only a few inches shorter than his own six feet. She had the tan of a person who spent time outdoors, not a sunbather, though, with laugh crinkles around her eyes. Still, the rough-neck tomboy he’d grown up with. Who else would want to spend a summer day backpacking on dusty trails through snagging underbrush instead of out on a perfectly manicured golf course where you only ventured into the rough to retrieve an errant ball?

Despite the heat and humidity, Maggie’s white T-shirt, with its pink ‘Race for the Cure’ logo, was still white and her jeans, though faded, remained clean. With her dark brown ponytail pulled through the back of a Detroit Tigers baseball cap, she looked as cool as when they started on this trek three hours ago. That almost irritated him more than her awareness of friction between him and his daughter.

“Ellen? Mad at me?” He affected mock surprise. “Your powers of observation are amazing. Are you ever wrong?”

She cupped her elbow in her hand and tapped a finger against her jaw. “Let me see now. I was wrong once—fourteen years ago. That’s when I married Roger Dodger.”

Roger Dodger. An appropriate name for the jerk. The guy got out of paying anything even though she'd supported him while putting him through his MBA, because of Maggie’s inept divorce lawyer. It still pissed him off that she hadn’t come to him. Never mind he specialized in criminal law. He would’ve made an exception for her.

“Let me think. Have I been wrong since?” She continued the damn tapping then snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. I was wrong to let Ellen’s city-soft lawyer daddy help chaperone this trip.”

Drew gave her the smile that prosecutors knew better than to believe. “And here I thought it was because nobody else would.”

Available at Amazon  

Free with Kindle Unlimited

Diane Burton combines her love of mystery, adventure, science fiction, and romance into writing romantic fiction. She blogs here on the 16th and 30th of each month. She shares snippets from her stories every weekend on her blog. 

New Life in Old Books? by Alison Henderson

I've just sent a request to the publisher of my first three books, requesting reversion of my rights. They're lovely people, and I'll always be grateful for the first magical contract that set me on the road to being a published author. I learned a great deal about writing and the publishing business, but it's time to say goodbye. It's probably costing the publisher more to keep theses titles on their records than they're making in profit.

The books are classic, old-school, historical Americana romances--a sub-genre I no longer write--and haven't sold many copies in the last few years. The publisher never did any real promotion or marketing, and I haven't paid any attention to them since I switched writing gears. I've focused my efforts on my humorous romantic suspense novels instead.

However, I think there may be life left in these earlier titles. I've recently finished editing and formatting the first book, Harvest of Dreams, and was thrilled to discover it was in pretty good shape. Better yet, I loved it! The only real editing I did was to tone down the love scenes a a bit. They're still much spicier than what I write now, but they fit the characters and story, so they're staying. I hope to find the second book, A Man Like That, in similar condition. The third book is a cute, short novella that should require very little work.

The main upside to owning the rights, besides retaining the lion's share of the royalties, is the ability to advertise with AMS, offer occasional free promotions, etc. I believe there is still an audience for Western historical romance, albeit a smaller one than for other sub-genres. All I have to do is figure out which authors are popular and target my ads to their readers. With luck, I'll sell a few copies from time to time.

After finishing the formatting, I took a little time to design new covers. I wanted them to be eye-catching but resemble the original covers closely enough not to confuse readers into thinking they're new releases. (I'll also make it clear they're re-releases on the copyright page and in the book description.) Since the sub-genre was never particularly clear, I decided to add the text "Historical Romance from the Heartland" to the covers. It will also appear on the Amazon page as the series title.

What do you think?


Look for them sometime later this summer!

Alison
www.alisonhenderson.com 

The Garden by Christine DePetrillo

Nothing pleases me more than playing in the dirt on a summer's day. My backyard is a NWF-Certified Backyard Wildlife Habitat. I have plants that attract butterflies, dragonflies, and birds of all kinds. The Northern Flicker woodpecker is among my favorites.

In the garden I have the following edibles:

• tomatoes
• green peppers
• basil
• mint
• parsley
• lemon thyme
• oregano
• lavender
• strawberries
• peaches
• blueberries

We also have:

• catmint
• roses
• impatiens
• grapevines (the grapes are never edible)
• azaleas
• rhododenrons
• weigela
• lilacs
• spirea

And:

• butterfly bush
• barberry
• coltsfoot
• dogwood
• arborvitae
• fern
• hosta

Now I'd love to have a ton more stuff growing (especially stuff I can eat), but my yard is pretty small and we've made the best use of the space we have. The Werewolf also runs and accidentally ruins things sometimes so I have to be careful where I put stuff. 

I love tending to all these plants during the summer months. Love to drink in their beauty, smell their fragrances, and taste their deliciousness. Coexisting with them when they are so green and alive invigorates me like nothing else can. 

That's why I love being in The Outdoor Writing Office. I can't help but be inspired to write when surrounded by nature. 

Everything is better outside. It just is. 

Do you garden? If so, what are you growing? 

Toodles,

Chris

www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com 

Mid-point in #amwriting

When last I posted, I was starting on an idea for my next manuscript. Well, I'm 10 chapters done and figure I'm halfway there.

I really want to wrap this up by mid-August if I can. Why? Because I work better with a deadline. At this rate, I think I can do it. This is one of those books that is sort of writing itself. I did some research and fleshing out ahead of time, but mostly I'm making it up as I go along. I've had several of those "wow" moments as I write, where the character does or says something and suddenly the plot takes a twist -- I love when that happens.

I'll be taking a break next week to go to the RWA national conference. I haven't been to an RWA con in about 10 years (has it really been that long?) This should be fun; it's in Denver, one of my favorite cities, easy to get to (one plane hop away), and I'll see a bunch of friends I haven't seen in awhile. Those 4 or 5 days away from writing will, I hope, energize me so I can finish up before my self-imposed deadline.

I'll report back in on the conference when I get back -- I wonder how much it's changed since the last time I was there....?

J L
(jayellwilson.com)