It has a different feel from my original covers, but Bruna's designers had to stick with a certain look for their Amber line. What do you think?
Monday, June 17, 2013
The Dutch cover!
Here's the Dutch cover for the DISARM series!
It has a different feel from my original covers, but Bruna's designers had to stick with a certain look for their Amber line. What do you think?
It has a different feel from my original covers, but Bruna's designers had to stick with a certain look for their Amber line. What do you think?
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
What in the world is June Gray working on?
I know I've been quiet for a while, not releasing anything for what seems like forever. I wish I was as fast as some other authors out there! Seriously! I feel like a snail compared to some of y'all!
So what have I been working on?
Let's see... I'm 2/3 of the way through the first draft of ARREST, the sequel to DISARM. As I was writing ARREST, an idea struck me so hard I had to write it down right away. Now it won't let go. Henry and Elsie will probably force me to write that story after ARREST is done. But I guess that will all depend on how DISARM/ARREST are received by the public, if the publisher wants another book, and most importantly, if readers even want another H&E story. Which is to say, I don't know if there will be a third H&E novel.
(This is probably not good news considering the whole Crossfire Series debacle, huh?).
As for self-publishing endeavors, I am in the midst of writing another erotic romance, which may become two or three books. To honor my contract with Berkley, I have to keep anything I self-pub under 70K words, so you see why the story might be broken up into two or three books if it becomes overlong.
I'm expecting the first (maybe only?) book to be done by August 2013. For now, I have a blurb and a cover to show you, though it might change over and over seeing as I'm a little anal retentive when it comes to my covers.
Kat Hollister is a tomboy who lives in t-shirts and dirty jeans and doesn’t give a shit what the world thinks. She lives alone and closes everyone out, with only her dog Josie by her side. For Kat, love and relationships are for the weak, and she is anything but.
Until one cold night when she finds a stranger stumbling on the side of a dark road, a man who has lost his memory.
She gives him temporary shelter against the snowstorm, but what she doesn’t count on is the friendship that blooms. This man—who has no identity—starts to teach her things about herself she never knew, and she begins to wonder if maybe she'd been wrong about love and trust all along.
---
If you'd like to add this on Goodreads, you can go here: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18041650-west
Stay tuned. I'll post teasers and such in the months leading up to publication!
So what have I been working on?
Let's see... I'm 2/3 of the way through the first draft of ARREST, the sequel to DISARM. As I was writing ARREST, an idea struck me so hard I had to write it down right away. Now it won't let go. Henry and Elsie will probably force me to write that story after ARREST is done. But I guess that will all depend on how DISARM/ARREST are received by the public, if the publisher wants another book, and most importantly, if readers even want another H&E story. Which is to say, I don't know if there will be a third H&E novel.
(This is probably not good news considering the whole Crossfire Series debacle, huh?).
As for self-publishing endeavors, I am in the midst of writing another erotic romance, which may become two or three books. To honor my contract with Berkley, I have to keep anything I self-pub under 70K words, so you see why the story might be broken up into two or three books if it becomes overlong.
I'm expecting the first (maybe only?) book to be done by August 2013. For now, I have a blurb and a cover to show you, though it might change over and over seeing as I'm a little anal retentive when it comes to my covers.
West
(A True North novel)
Kat Hollister is a tomboy who lives in t-shirts and dirty jeans and doesn’t give a shit what the world thinks. She lives alone and closes everyone out, with only her dog Josie by her side. For Kat, love and relationships are for the weak, and she is anything but.
Until one cold night when she finds a stranger stumbling on the side of a dark road, a man who has lost his memory.
She gives him temporary shelter against the snowstorm, but what she doesn’t count on is the friendship that blooms. This man—who has no identity—starts to teach her things about herself she never knew, and she begins to wonder if maybe she'd been wrong about love and trust all along.
---
If you'd like to add this on Goodreads, you can go here: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18041650-west
Stay tuned. I'll post teasers and such in the months leading up to publication!
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Oklahoma
If you've read my books, it should come as no surprise that I love Oklahoma. I practically grew up there, in the southside just west of Moore. The places I wrote about in DISARM are real, they are places that I've visited often.
I was there during that infamous day on May 3, 1999 when tornadoes ripped through Oklahoma. I was working at Montgomery Wards at the time, watching the emerging weather on the small TV in the break room. We called all of the customers inside the stock rooms to take cover, huddling under racks of clothes as the winds howled outside. The mall was spared but my neighborhood was not so lucky. Going home that night proved impossible. Streets were blocked off, people were parking at the side of the road and just walking home. I couldn't get anywhere near our house, so I just stayed at a friend's place, not knowing if I even had a home to go back to.
Thankfully my family and our house was spared with minimal damage. We were lucky. Three houses down began the real damage. Brick houses were reduced to cement foundations and a jumble of wood, mud, and personal belongings. I can't even describe it, how it looked as if the place had been bombed. It was the worst thing I'd ever seen, like I'd been dropped in the middle of a war zone.
But the spirit of Oklahoma is resilient and giving. I bore witness to the community coming together, and slowly our homes, hospitals, and businesses were rebuilt brick by brick. We recovered in time.
Yesterday, a monster tornado went through my beloved Oklahoma again. The disaster zone you see on TV is literally right around the corner from my old home, where my parents still live. Once again, I could only sit in front of the TV—this time from all the way across the country—and watch helplessly while my beloved state was torn to pieces. My parents' house was in the tornado's direct path, and for a tense thirty minutes we couldn't get a hold of my mom, who was home alone at the time. Thankfully, she had taken shelter in our neighbor's storm cellar.
Once again, my parents' home was spared as the tornado veered a different direction at the last minute. Others were not so lucky, including two elementary schools where children were trapped inside. Reports state that over a hundred people were found alive overnight, but many more are still missing, many of them children.
I can't even imagine how people over there must be feeling; I feel so impotent, powerless over here. Every part of me wants to go home, to don gloves and run to those schools and help sift through the rubble to find survivors. But all I can do from here is donate money and show gratitude to rescue efforts, and pray that they may find many more survivors today.
So thank you to Lola and Stewart, who took in my frantic mom and kept her safe. You'll never know what the tiny gesture of making room in an already-cramped space means to us.
Thank you to good Samaritans who help, any way they can.
Thank you to the rescue workers who are working tirelessly, laboring against the odds and the elements to find survivors.
Thank you to the teachers, who stayed with the students inside the school. You are truly angels in human form.
If you can, please donate to the Red Cross to help with disaster relief HERE. You can also text REDCROSS to 90999 for a $10 donation.
To my fellow Oklahomans: my thoughts and prayers are with you today.
And finally, here's a photograph taken by Nancy Dodd Poole of Broken Arrow, OK.
I was there during that infamous day on May 3, 1999 when tornadoes ripped through Oklahoma. I was working at Montgomery Wards at the time, watching the emerging weather on the small TV in the break room. We called all of the customers inside the stock rooms to take cover, huddling under racks of clothes as the winds howled outside. The mall was spared but my neighborhood was not so lucky. Going home that night proved impossible. Streets were blocked off, people were parking at the side of the road and just walking home. I couldn't get anywhere near our house, so I just stayed at a friend's place, not knowing if I even had a home to go back to.
Thankfully my family and our house was spared with minimal damage. We were lucky. Three houses down began the real damage. Brick houses were reduced to cement foundations and a jumble of wood, mud, and personal belongings. I can't even describe it, how it looked as if the place had been bombed. It was the worst thing I'd ever seen, like I'd been dropped in the middle of a war zone.
But the spirit of Oklahoma is resilient and giving. I bore witness to the community coming together, and slowly our homes, hospitals, and businesses were rebuilt brick by brick. We recovered in time.
Yesterday, a monster tornado went through my beloved Oklahoma again. The disaster zone you see on TV is literally right around the corner from my old home, where my parents still live. Once again, I could only sit in front of the TV—this time from all the way across the country—and watch helplessly while my beloved state was torn to pieces. My parents' house was in the tornado's direct path, and for a tense thirty minutes we couldn't get a hold of my mom, who was home alone at the time. Thankfully, she had taken shelter in our neighbor's storm cellar.
Once again, my parents' home was spared as the tornado veered a different direction at the last minute. Others were not so lucky, including two elementary schools where children were trapped inside. Reports state that over a hundred people were found alive overnight, but many more are still missing, many of them children.
I can't even imagine how people over there must be feeling; I feel so impotent, powerless over here. Every part of me wants to go home, to don gloves and run to those schools and help sift through the rubble to find survivors. But all I can do from here is donate money and show gratitude to rescue efforts, and pray that they may find many more survivors today.
So thank you to Lola and Stewart, who took in my frantic mom and kept her safe. You'll never know what the tiny gesture of making room in an already-cramped space means to us.
Thank you to good Samaritans who help, any way they can.
Thank you to the rescue workers who are working tirelessly, laboring against the odds and the elements to find survivors.
Thank you to the teachers, who stayed with the students inside the school. You are truly angels in human form.
If you can, please donate to the Red Cross to help with disaster relief HERE. You can also text REDCROSS to 90999 for a $10 donation.
To my fellow Oklahomans: my thoughts and prayers are with you today.
And finally, here's a photograph taken by Nancy Dodd Poole of Broken Arrow, OK.
"My Niece and Nephew live in Edmond and OKC andthey went down to try to help in the clean up at Moore.Here is one of their pictures. Just gives you chills!"
Monday, May 13, 2013
Highlight: The Vampire Cookbook
Hello all! I don't normally do this, but I wanted to highlight the new release by my dear editor, MJ Heiser. Not only is she a lovely person, but she is also one helluva writer!
Her newest novel is paranormal romance/urban fantasy and is titled The Vampire Cookbook.
Blurb:
Kelly Kerbey's life is like something straight out of a reality television show: She's dating a gorgeous Hollywood actor, her best friend is a supermodel, and she is the best-selling author of a series of supernatural romance novels that she secretly hates writing. Unfortunately she's attracted the attention of the wrong kind of fan, and that fan is going to make her an offer she literally can't refuse: He's going to force her to help him write a cookbook, and if she doesn't comply she could end up as an entree.
Part Tim Burton farce and part Jane Austen voyage of self-discovery, The Vampire Cookbook will make you laugh out loud and take a second look at the strangers lurking in the dark corners.
And now for a short excerpt:
The drive home from Toro Bravo didn’t take long, but it was a chilly ride. Brent’s solution to that was to pull me closer on the bench seat, right up against him. He opened his jacket to me and, after a moment of awkwardness, I snuggled up against him. He was warm and lean, and he smelled amazing. I tried not to get ahead of myself and wonder where this night was leading, but seriously, there was no math puzzle or baseball statistic that could overwhelm the potent mojo of Brent Cox. I tentatively put my right hand on his abs. I felt them flutter under his shirt, and a low rumbling noise, like a growl, resonated from his chest. That was a huge turn on.
Even after that, when he pulled his flashy red convertible into my driveway, I was scared to assume things were moving forward. Even when he asked if he could come in for a nightcap, I tried to focus on only pouring him a drink. I mean, sure, I tried to remember if I’d taken every single precaution earlier that day: Shaved legs? Check. Manicured ladybushes? Check. Scented powder on my sheets? Check. I moved like a zombie through my house to the sideboard in the dining room, careful not to assume—
I was seized from behind and turned. For a split second I was too disoriented to understand what was happening to me, but Brent’s smell was all around, warm and heady and intoxicating. He pressed me against the sideboard and kissed me. I was dizzy, and I hate to confess that my first thought was that I owed Celeste big time for the shopping trip. His hands slipped around my waist and pulled me closer by my hips.
“Kelly,” he said in my ear, his voice a low rumble.
“Mm, Brent,” I responded, my hands on his arms moving upwards to his shoulders.
“God, Kelly, what are you doing to me?” he asked as he pulled me up against him. I suppose it was an attempt to demonstrate exactly what I was doing to him, but all I had on the brain was endorphins, and they were making it pretty much impossible to think. He dipped his head down to that sensitive spot right behind my ear and I trembled like a junkie.
He slid his hands down my hips and around to my backside. His fingers dug deep as he lifted me in his arms and placed me on the sideboard. I squeaked, but I don’t think it was a protest. Again, I’m not at all sure what that noise was. Maybe it was surprise. Regardless, I was delighted to be at a different vantage point, to be able to look down on the splendor of him from a different place. Plus, I could now use my legs as hooks and drag him closer to me.
I looked down into his eyes and saw an expression on his face I’d never seen before. He looked overwhelmed and confused, helpless. I felt a surge of power as a result; I’d made him helpless, somehow. Dumpy, plain old me, simple little Kelly Kerbey The Nerd had made a man look like that, and not just any man, but this man, my physical and temperamental ideal. It was amazing. It was glorious.
It was batshit insane crazy.
Before I could make the mistake of overthinking it again, Brent crushed his mouth against mine and made it impossible to think. There was something more than just an exchange of saliva and breath at work here, more than pressure and friction and warmth and wetness. I felt energized, alive. I felt like I could do anything, absolutely anything.
Look, I’d kissed Brent Cox before. Several of those kisses had slid into second base without any problems. But never before had I felt this kind of abandon, this kind of freedom. He was responding to me in a different way. I didn’t understand it, and I was pretty sure I didn’t want to. Whatever was happening would probably complicate things, and my basic physiological urges didn’t want complicated.
I seized his shirt in my hands and yanked. The sound of ripping and of popping buttons was immensely satisfying. He grunted, his head dipping down to my collar bones. I could feel him inhaling deeply, then nuzzling deeper into my flesh. I thought I heard a whine, then he slammed his hips against mine, leaving no doubt about his intentions.
I came up for air and gasped, “God damn, Brent, is this about the blouse?”
His warm, wonderful hands skimmed up my skirt to that orange blouse, then up over my breasts to the drooping cowl neck. He gathered it carefully in his hands, then pulled it down, exposing way more of my cleavage than I would dare expose in any situation but this one. He pushed his face down into the space between my breasts. For a breathless, giddy moment I wondered if he was going to motorboat me, which, honestly, wouldn’t have surprised me, knowing his personality the way I did. He didn’t. He instead rained a dozen light kisses over my skin.
I was panting by the time he was done. I wondered when the last time was that I’d been this turned on, but the endorphins took over again and I realized that I had never been this turned on. I could feel his bare skin under my fingers, and that incredible feeling of invincibility swept through me again. He pulled my blouse up and off over my head, then unclipped my bra and slid it off my arms. The cold air made the stiffness of my nipples seem almost painful—and then he drew one into his mouth.
As I’ve said, we’d been to second base before. It had been confusing, just a makeout session in the back of his car that had gotten a bit steamy. It hadn’t felt like this. He sucked on my right nipple and I swear I felt him draw something out of me. I rolled my head back and tried not to swoon. I made a guttural noise in the back of my throat and wrapped my legs around his torso.
“Please don’t stop,” I moaned as he switched to the left nipple. “Oh, God, Brent, please don’t stop.”
For a moment I thought I was going to get my wish. He broke away from his oral worship of my breasts and pressed his body against mine. Flesh to flesh he kissed me, and I thought I heard a swell of music, something triumphant like an anthem. He breathed into my mouth, and his breath tasted spicy and a little wild. I breathed some of that into my lungs and felt my body grow even warmer, a flush blooming on my chest and my face. Suddenly I was certain that I would know exactly how to please him in bed. I knew that it didn’t matter how inexperienced I was, or how long it had been since I’d had sex. I could do this. I wanted to do this. And I only wanted to do this with him.
“Mine,” he growled, kissing me softly on each cheek in a display of tenderness that made my belly tremble. “You are mine, Kelly. You are mine, and I am yours.”
The words hinted at a permanence I couldn’t understand in my flustered state. Was he trying to complicate things? I would find it sweet if it didn’t hint at something far more significant. As it was I found the words sobering.
My body didn’t care. I was still grinding against him, still warm in my belly and flushed from my forehead to my navel. I thought of how he was with his friends, boisterous and outrageous, loud and silly and funny. I thought of how his fans saw him, a foul-mouthed cocky hothead. I thought even of how he’d been with me for the past year, respectful but reserved and always detached from me just a bit. Something had changed, and now I saw this new side of him, hot and sexy, yes, but also full of tenderness and compulsive passion.
I really, really wanted to get him to bed, but I knew full well I’d fuck him right here in the dining room, propped up on my sideboard. Didn’t matter. It was go time.
--
Available now for the Kindle and Nook.
Her newest novel is paranormal romance/urban fantasy and is titled The Vampire Cookbook.
Blurb:
Kelly Kerbey's life is like something straight out of a reality television show: She's dating a gorgeous Hollywood actor, her best friend is a supermodel, and she is the best-selling author of a series of supernatural romance novels that she secretly hates writing. Unfortunately she's attracted the attention of the wrong kind of fan, and that fan is going to make her an offer she literally can't refuse: He's going to force her to help him write a cookbook, and if she doesn't comply she could end up as an entree.
Part Tim Burton farce and part Jane Austen voyage of self-discovery, The Vampire Cookbook will make you laugh out loud and take a second look at the strangers lurking in the dark corners.
And now for a short excerpt:
The drive home from Toro Bravo didn’t take long, but it was a chilly ride. Brent’s solution to that was to pull me closer on the bench seat, right up against him. He opened his jacket to me and, after a moment of awkwardness, I snuggled up against him. He was warm and lean, and he smelled amazing. I tried not to get ahead of myself and wonder where this night was leading, but seriously, there was no math puzzle or baseball statistic that could overwhelm the potent mojo of Brent Cox. I tentatively put my right hand on his abs. I felt them flutter under his shirt, and a low rumbling noise, like a growl, resonated from his chest. That was a huge turn on.
Even after that, when he pulled his flashy red convertible into my driveway, I was scared to assume things were moving forward. Even when he asked if he could come in for a nightcap, I tried to focus on only pouring him a drink. I mean, sure, I tried to remember if I’d taken every single precaution earlier that day: Shaved legs? Check. Manicured ladybushes? Check. Scented powder on my sheets? Check. I moved like a zombie through my house to the sideboard in the dining room, careful not to assume—
I was seized from behind and turned. For a split second I was too disoriented to understand what was happening to me, but Brent’s smell was all around, warm and heady and intoxicating. He pressed me against the sideboard and kissed me. I was dizzy, and I hate to confess that my first thought was that I owed Celeste big time for the shopping trip. His hands slipped around my waist and pulled me closer by my hips.
“Kelly,” he said in my ear, his voice a low rumble.
“Mm, Brent,” I responded, my hands on his arms moving upwards to his shoulders.
“God, Kelly, what are you doing to me?” he asked as he pulled me up against him. I suppose it was an attempt to demonstrate exactly what I was doing to him, but all I had on the brain was endorphins, and they were making it pretty much impossible to think. He dipped his head down to that sensitive spot right behind my ear and I trembled like a junkie.
He slid his hands down my hips and around to my backside. His fingers dug deep as he lifted me in his arms and placed me on the sideboard. I squeaked, but I don’t think it was a protest. Again, I’m not at all sure what that noise was. Maybe it was surprise. Regardless, I was delighted to be at a different vantage point, to be able to look down on the splendor of him from a different place. Plus, I could now use my legs as hooks and drag him closer to me.
I looked down into his eyes and saw an expression on his face I’d never seen before. He looked overwhelmed and confused, helpless. I felt a surge of power as a result; I’d made him helpless, somehow. Dumpy, plain old me, simple little Kelly Kerbey The Nerd had made a man look like that, and not just any man, but this man, my physical and temperamental ideal. It was amazing. It was glorious.
It was batshit insane crazy.
Before I could make the mistake of overthinking it again, Brent crushed his mouth against mine and made it impossible to think. There was something more than just an exchange of saliva and breath at work here, more than pressure and friction and warmth and wetness. I felt energized, alive. I felt like I could do anything, absolutely anything.
Look, I’d kissed Brent Cox before. Several of those kisses had slid into second base without any problems. But never before had I felt this kind of abandon, this kind of freedom. He was responding to me in a different way. I didn’t understand it, and I was pretty sure I didn’t want to. Whatever was happening would probably complicate things, and my basic physiological urges didn’t want complicated.
I seized his shirt in my hands and yanked. The sound of ripping and of popping buttons was immensely satisfying. He grunted, his head dipping down to my collar bones. I could feel him inhaling deeply, then nuzzling deeper into my flesh. I thought I heard a whine, then he slammed his hips against mine, leaving no doubt about his intentions.
I came up for air and gasped, “God damn, Brent, is this about the blouse?”
His warm, wonderful hands skimmed up my skirt to that orange blouse, then up over my breasts to the drooping cowl neck. He gathered it carefully in his hands, then pulled it down, exposing way more of my cleavage than I would dare expose in any situation but this one. He pushed his face down into the space between my breasts. For a breathless, giddy moment I wondered if he was going to motorboat me, which, honestly, wouldn’t have surprised me, knowing his personality the way I did. He didn’t. He instead rained a dozen light kisses over my skin.
I was panting by the time he was done. I wondered when the last time was that I’d been this turned on, but the endorphins took over again and I realized that I had never been this turned on. I could feel his bare skin under my fingers, and that incredible feeling of invincibility swept through me again. He pulled my blouse up and off over my head, then unclipped my bra and slid it off my arms. The cold air made the stiffness of my nipples seem almost painful—and then he drew one into his mouth.
As I’ve said, we’d been to second base before. It had been confusing, just a makeout session in the back of his car that had gotten a bit steamy. It hadn’t felt like this. He sucked on my right nipple and I swear I felt him draw something out of me. I rolled my head back and tried not to swoon. I made a guttural noise in the back of my throat and wrapped my legs around his torso.
“Please don’t stop,” I moaned as he switched to the left nipple. “Oh, God, Brent, please don’t stop.”
For a moment I thought I was going to get my wish. He broke away from his oral worship of my breasts and pressed his body against mine. Flesh to flesh he kissed me, and I thought I heard a swell of music, something triumphant like an anthem. He breathed into my mouth, and his breath tasted spicy and a little wild. I breathed some of that into my lungs and felt my body grow even warmer, a flush blooming on my chest and my face. Suddenly I was certain that I would know exactly how to please him in bed. I knew that it didn’t matter how inexperienced I was, or how long it had been since I’d had sex. I could do this. I wanted to do this. And I only wanted to do this with him.
“Mine,” he growled, kissing me softly on each cheek in a display of tenderness that made my belly tremble. “You are mine, Kelly. You are mine, and I am yours.”
The words hinted at a permanence I couldn’t understand in my flustered state. Was he trying to complicate things? I would find it sweet if it didn’t hint at something far more significant. As it was I found the words sobering.
My body didn’t care. I was still grinding against him, still warm in my belly and flushed from my forehead to my navel. I thought of how he was with his friends, boisterous and outrageous, loud and silly and funny. I thought of how his fans saw him, a foul-mouthed cocky hothead. I thought even of how he’d been with me for the past year, respectful but reserved and always detached from me just a bit. Something had changed, and now I saw this new side of him, hot and sexy, yes, but also full of tenderness and compulsive passion.
I really, really wanted to get him to bed, but I knew full well I’d fuck him right here in the dining room, propped up on my sideboard. Didn’t matter. It was go time.
--
Available now for the Kindle and Nook.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
The Kobo Booth at the London Book Fair 2013
(alternate title: I Should Have Gone to London).
At the beginning of this year, after dismal sales of the DISARM series at kobobooks.com, I received an email from one of their marketing people telling me that she was impressed with my covers and was going to highlight it on romance>erotic category page.
The boxed set immediately flew up the charts and was in the Top 50 for several weeks (every now and then, it still fights its way onto the charts but bigger and better books have been published since then).
Fast forward to a few months, when the same Kobo employee emailed me an invitation to the London Book Fair. I was even offered a speaking opportunity. And I—being the introvert that I am—started hyperventilating at the thought and almost immediately shot off an email explaining why I could not attend (too far, I'd have nothing to contribute, I'm a hybrid author, etc.).
But guys, I should have gone! I'm a total dickhead for not going. Just look at their booth!
You'll see very many familiar self-pubbed books on that wall. I mean, Bella Andre and Abbi Glines? Goodness! Now look a little closer...
Oh. My. God! Those are my covers! Not one, but TWO of them. In their Writing Life booth. Next to the big guys.
I mean... CRIPES. I should have gone, right? I would have peed myself like a frightened little mouse, but still...
Next time, Kobo. Promise.
At the beginning of this year, after dismal sales of the DISARM series at kobobooks.com, I received an email from one of their marketing people telling me that she was impressed with my covers and was going to highlight it on romance>erotic category page.
The boxed set immediately flew up the charts and was in the Top 50 for several weeks (every now and then, it still fights its way onto the charts but bigger and better books have been published since then).
Fast forward to a few months, when the same Kobo employee emailed me an invitation to the London Book Fair. I was even offered a speaking opportunity. And I—being the introvert that I am—started hyperventilating at the thought and almost immediately shot off an email explaining why I could not attend (too far, I'd have nothing to contribute, I'm a hybrid author, etc.).
But guys, I should have gone! I'm a total dickhead for not going. Just look at their booth!
You'll see very many familiar self-pubbed books on that wall. I mean, Bella Andre and Abbi Glines? Goodness! Now look a little closer...
Oh. My. God! Those are my covers! Not one, but TWO of them. In their Writing Life booth. Next to the big guys.
I mean... CRIPES. I should have gone, right? I would have peed myself like a frightened little mouse, but still...
Next time, Kobo. Promise.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Quick reminder...
The separate DISARM novelettes will be coming down soon (as will the boxed set of the series) so if you haven't already, you might want to get them before they come off sale. I'd hate to have readers mad at me because they couldn't buy the rest of the series, so please pass this message along.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
I'm still here! I promise!
I'm so sorry for the long radio silence!
I am a terrible blogger. Seriously. I'll sometimes forget to blog then, after a some time passes, the idea of writing a long blog post about my past news just becomes too intimidating and I put it off even longer...
It's a terrible cycle of procrastination, I tell you!
For the past few months, my family and I have been busy packing and saying goodbye to our friends in California as we prepared for our next PCS. This time, we're headed to Miami (I swear, I can't NOT hear the Will Smith song each time I write that!) in the summer.
We're in Virginia right now, staying in base temp lodging for the next several weeks while my husband goes through even more schooling. I've never lived on base before; I'm really enjoying the feeling of community and the fact that housekeeping can come to my house every single day if I choose! lol. Seriously spoiled here!
And onto the news that I've managed to announce everywhere else BUT here: I've agreed to a three-book deal with Berkley Books! Cindy Hwang, Sylvia Day's editor for The Crossfire Series, has pre-empted The DISARM Series!
Can I get a SQUEEEEE?! ;)
The first set of novelettes will make up the first novel, then I will write two more. The second novel (which I'm working on right now) is tentatively titled ARREST.
I'm so excited about this! I love self-publishing and will continue to do so, but I just couldn't say no to this kind of opportunity and exposure. If my series becomes even half as popular as The Crossfire Series... oy vei!
Life is very lively around here, for sure!
Thank you again for your emails and messages about Henry & Elsie. I sometimes can't get around to replying each one, but know that it's all appreciated! I hope you'll enjoy reading the next chapter in H&E's life!
Bye again for now. I promise not to be a stranger!
I am a terrible blogger. Seriously. I'll sometimes forget to blog then, after a some time passes, the idea of writing a long blog post about my past news just becomes too intimidating and I put it off even longer...
It's a terrible cycle of procrastination, I tell you!
For the past few months, my family and I have been busy packing and saying goodbye to our friends in California as we prepared for our next PCS. This time, we're headed to Miami (I swear, I can't NOT hear the Will Smith song each time I write that!) in the summer.
We're in Virginia right now, staying in base temp lodging for the next several weeks while my husband goes through even more schooling. I've never lived on base before; I'm really enjoying the feeling of community and the fact that housekeeping can come to my house every single day if I choose! lol. Seriously spoiled here!
And onto the news that I've managed to announce everywhere else BUT here: I've agreed to a three-book deal with Berkley Books! Cindy Hwang, Sylvia Day's editor for The Crossfire Series, has pre-empted The DISARM Series!
Can I get a SQUEEEEE?! ;)
The first set of novelettes will make up the first novel, then I will write two more. The second novel (which I'm working on right now) is tentatively titled ARREST.
I'm so excited about this! I love self-publishing and will continue to do so, but I just couldn't say no to this kind of opportunity and exposure. If my series becomes even half as popular as The Crossfire Series... oy vei!
Life is very lively around here, for sure!
Thank you again for your emails and messages about Henry & Elsie. I sometimes can't get around to replying each one, but know that it's all appreciated! I hope you'll enjoy reading the next chapter in H&E's life!
Bye again for now. I promise not to be a stranger!
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