YOU GUYS. Capture Me has gone wide, so you can now buy it and borrow it away from Amazon. Check. It. Out. More sites are being added today.
YOU GUYS. Capture Me has gone wide, so you can now buy it and borrow it away from Amazon. Check. It. Out. More sites are being added today.
Hello, everyone! I figured I could write a quick post updating you on stuff because I haven’t recently, so here we go.
If you don’t already know, my second novel, Covering the Quarterback, is now available to buy and read for FREE on Kindle Unlimited. The vibe is a little different from Capture Me, but if you like a more swoon-worthy romance it’s right up your alley. Please don’t forget to leave a review if you do read it. Reviews rock!
You can find Covering the Quarterback here.
I also recently published a romance novella called Billionaire’s Savior. Here’s the cover:
This novella was originally published under a pen-name, but I decided to forgo the pen name and use my real name because I didn’t want to create a whole second personality. I have a few more novellas that I’ll be putting out here in there, so watch for them if you want a short, fun, kinky read. ***If you do not like sex-heavy storylines, I would suggest you skip the short stories and wait for my full-length contemporary romance novels. I will be putting one out every two months.***
I’m up to almost 1,000 newsletter subscribers, and these are the awesome readers who get freebies, contest alerts, giveaways, and more. If you want to always know when the next book is coming out, you can join us here.
In other news (kind of), I wanted to express how grateful I am for my readers. When I put my first book out, I had no idea it would get the feedback it did. I am amazed, and every new review I read makes my heart swell. Thank you guys. You don’t know what you do for an author like myself.
I hope everyone has had a good summer so far, and have a safe and fun 4th of July.
Hello friends! I’m very excited to share this cover reveal with you. It’s for my upcoming contemporary romance, COVERING THE QUARTERBACK.
Here’s a blurb for your enjoyment:
Grace and Jackson clash every time they cross paths. An aspiring political journalist, Grace wants nothing to do with the school’s arrogant, womanizing Quarterback. Jackson, who hides his true ambitions behind the rough exterior of a football, can’t seem to look past this girl’s insecure and obstinate personality.
When Grace is forced to report on Jackson’s season for the school’s paper, she must get to know Jackson–all sides of him, not just the side he shows his devoted fans. Despite the backlash they’re receiving from others regarding their newfound friendship, they find their time together is not what they expected.
As the pair forge an unlikely friendship, a debilitating football accident leaves Jackson unable to play; a cast aside hero now reliant on booze and pills. Will their steadfast belief and acceptance in one another be enough to hold this pair together, or will both of their lives go spiraling out of control?
This book will be out soon. It’s going to be a surprise release, but if you’re lucky I’ll begin a countdown to build the anticipation. For now, here’s the beautiful cover, done by Jo-Anna Walker of Just Write. Creations.
I love this cover and I hope you do, too. This book is slightly different from my romantic suspense, CAPTURE ME, in the way that it’s a bit more on the lighthearted side. Don’t get me wrong, there’s just enough darkness in there to keep it interesting (all of my works have a little bit of drama), but this is definitely a swoon-worthy, sexy book to put on your TBR list.
Hello, friends! I have some exciting news. The new release date for CAPTURE ME has been moved up to July 1st instead of July 23rd. Amazon won’t let me change it at this point, so I’m thrilled to have an excuse to release it now that it’s ready. Don’t forget to pre-order, and put it on your calendars!
He picked up the bouquet of roses and tossed them into the trash bin near the TV. Then, still holding his beer, he gathered what he needed and dropped them into his bag. He thought he was smarter than that. He had been certain he wouldn’t let emotions get in the way. She was just a girl. Just a stupid, naïve, pain-in-the-ass–
“What are you doing?” Startled, Logan spun towards the bathroom door, spilling his beer in the process. Foam poured over the top, running down his shirt and onto the floor. He set it down on the TV stand, shaking the droplets of booze from his fingers. Kass stood in front of him, dressed in Levi’s and a tank top, drying her brown hair between the folds of a towel. On her chest, where the top didn’t cover her skin, droplets of water clung to her skin. At first, he didn’t know what to say. He’d expected her to be long gone. And yet, here she was, standing in front of him. Still here.
And she was smiling.
“I thought you’d left,” he said. It was all he could think of to say as she dropped the towel onto the floor and ran her fingertips through her hair. Then she crossed the room, peering into the waste bin. She reached in and pulled the bouquet out.
“Who are these for?”
“Uh. I–” The words he couldn’t say felt heavy on his tongue. He picked up the bottle of beer and took a swig, wishing it was a flask of whiskey instead. Some liquid courage would serve him well right about now. He turned away from her. “You, I guess.”
She said nothing, only put her nose in the buds and smelled the flowers like it was the most natural thing in the world. Logan sat down on the bed and watched her, taken by the way she moved across the room, the way her hips sashayed and her wet hair clung to her cheeks.
“Are you going to offer me a beer?” she asked. Before he could respond, she leaned over him and reached for a Bud. She smelled only of hotel shampoo and soap, but it caught him off guard, anyway. His fingers twitched as he fought the urge to reach up and touch her skin. As she straightened up, he caught sight of her cleavage peeking through the top.
“Christ.” He stood up abruptly, nearly knocking the bottle out of her hand as he did so. Kass stared at him, taken aback.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Logan stared at her, eying her up and down, and then lifted the bottle in his hand and pointed it at her. “Why are you still here? Why haven’t you left?”
He watched her pop the cap off her beer and take a drink. She looked down at her hands, and her shoulders rose and fell slightly.
“I don’t know, Logan. I don’t have an answer for you.”
“Bullshit.” He set his beer down again, irritation boiling in his chest. “I gave you an out, Kass. I gave you an out, and you didn’t take it.” He crossed the room, taking her face in his hands. She met his eyes, but he couldn’t read the story behind the pain. “Why didn’t you leave?”
A tear appeared in the corner of one eye, and she tried to pull her head away, but he forced her to stand still.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know why I’m still here, Logan.” She yanked away from him with surprising strength and backed up. Her hands were trembling. She sat down on the edge of one of the beds, cradling the beer between her legs. Then she looked up, meeting his eyes once more. He saw the confliction in her expression, hidden behind the stillness of her face.
“I hoped you would have an answer for that.”
I haven’t posted here in a while, so I figured an update might not be too bad, for those who care.
Things are pretty good for the most part. For the last few months, I’d been insanely busy working from home as a manager for a ghostwriting company. I loved my job, even though they paid me shit, and I was excited to see it take off. I loved the clients and the team and I learned a lot while I worked there. A couple of weeks ago I had to get a second work-from-home job as an assistant (essentially doing the same thing I was doing for my first company) just to supplement my income. I enjoyed both jobs and did them both well until my first company up and fired me for taking the second job. (They didn’t say that was the reason, per say, but the timing was awfully convenient.)
These things happen, I suppose, and I was pretty torn up about it until I got on my computer the next day to NOT work and ended up writing 10k words on my own WIP in two days. It was exhilarating, and enforced the belief that everything happens for a reason.
There hasn’t been much news one way or the other on my novels; one agent that had both of my drafts when MIA, like, 10 months ago. No joke. A few agents have some drafts, some fulls, and some partials. It’s a lot of the same stuff that comes back, as it has for years . . .
“Loved it, but…”
“The premise is amazing, but…”
“You have such talent, but…”
“I already represent a book like this, so…”
And on and on. Some feedback is helpful, some isn’t, but that’s the nature of the business and every writer/aspiring author feels the exact same way.
So, I’m keeping myself busy trying to finish this WIP of mine, Ladder One. It’s a favorite premise of mine, personally, and was inspired by some of my (very minimal) experiences here in Pocatello. Here’s a blurb, just to get you excited:
Becoming the first female firefighter in a small-town, conservative fire department full of egotistical men should be something to be proud of, but Hallie has never felt so rejected. The men don’t want her there, and neither does anyone else. With the taunts, harassment, and dangerous situations she keeps finding herself in, sometimes quitting sounds like the only way out. It’s even harder when the townspeople themselves see her as a hussy for wanting to do a man’s job.
Fortunately, Hallie has someone on her side: their captain, Tate Becker. Handsome, kind, and charming, Hallie isn’t sure she’d make it there without Tate’s support, especially when her fiancé Jeremy doesn’t even want to hear about her day.
As Hallie fights for acceptance into this testosterone-riddled, tight-knit crew—all while defending her reputation to the town and her to own family–she finds that the only person she wants to be around anymore is Tate. Too bad she’s engaged, and he’s dating another department’s jealous paramedic.
When Hallie is nearly killed during a rescue mission, Tate isn’t the only one who starts to see Hallie as much more than just an intrusive female in their all-boys club. Just as she’s starting to fit in, the squad finds that a hidden arsonist is responsible for these treacherous fires they keep responding to—and it’s possibly one of their very own.
Hallie is framed, and trust begins to shatter. Someone wants her gone, and they’re making it clear. Proving her innocence and getting her crew to trust her again means finding the real culprit, even if it kills her.
Fire isn’t the only thing heating up this department, and time is running out; possibly for all of them.
So it’s a romance, because a good romance book is my jam, and it should be a great read by the time it’s polished up pretty. Here’s an excerpt that you’re welcome to skip over if you just don’t care (I won’t be offended, promise):
All I could see was darkness. A black hole that enveloped me, dragged me in. Smoke was everywhere, a dank, murky smoke that blended with the dark walls and consumed the space around me. Orange flames flickered from above and below, licking the ashy surface of what once was a hardwood floor.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the vent of the oxygen to reassure me. Every step had to count, because any step could be the last one I took.
The steps groaned and creaked below my feet, smoke slithering around my feet and ankles, a mere warning for what was to come. The first floor was clear of flames, but the rest of the building wasn’t. The higher up I climbed, the thicker the smoke became.
Tate’s voice came over the radio as I planted my step firmly on the second floor. One hand gripped the rickety handrail, the other reaching out in front of me to feel my way across the floor. I could only tread lightly, carefully, and not rush; rushing across this floor could mean a collapse that would likely kill me and send down any other firefighter relying on the burning floor to keep them alive.
“Hallie, do you copy?” Tate’s voice was garbled, tone blended with the static of the radio.
“I’m here,” I said, my words coming in out in what felt like no more than a whisper.
“I want you—turn-aroun—come back—o . . . do you copy?”
“Sorry, sir, you’re breaking up.”
I couldn’t turn back, not now, not when I was already here. Somewhere in the building, I could hear someone’s distress alarm beeping. My heart caught in my throat, knowing that however long that alarm had been going off equated to however long one of my crew had been down. It seemed to be coming from another floor up, maybe two.
Taking another steadying breath, I made my way across the floor, carefully avoiding the growing areas of flames creeping up the walls. Through the black smoke, I felt around for the second stairwell and found the first step, hesitating for a moment to make sure it hadn’t burned through yet. The higher I climbed, the more possibility of damage that—in a single collapse—could efficiently bring the entire building down on top of us.
I was halfway up the stairs when the beeping grew louder. I was getting close, hopefully, close enough that I could get those men out of there in time . . . if I wasn’t already too late.
The steps groaned beneath my weight, shifting a bit with each step I took. I had both hands braced on either side of the railing, praying to whatever higher power there was that we would all make it out of here alive.
“Kyle?” I shouted. My voice seemed engulfed by the smoke, as though the fire in the building was actively resisting my mission to save my people. “Porter?”
There was no response, nothing but the frantic beep of the emergency device. I took another step, and somewhere near me, the sharp, horrifying sound of splintering wood reached my ears. I stopped where I was, catching my breath, eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the inevitable collapse.
It didn’t come.
“Jesus,” I breathed. It took me another couple of seconds to settle my racing heart, but I knew I couldn’t stand there for long. If I didn’t find Kyle and Porter and get us the hell out of that building, we’d all die soon. There was no escaping it.
“Kyle,” I called again. “It’s Hallie. Can you hear me?” I took another step, and then another. My hands gripped the railings with desperate terror, but it didn’t matter what I was holding; if the building went down, no railing would save my life.
One more step and I was there, standing unsteadily at the top of the third floor. There was no seeing through the smoke, but the flames had nearly engulfed the entire third floor. And there, lying in the middle of flames, either dead or unconscious, was Kyle.
My first reaction was to rush to his side, but if there was ever a time to take it slow, it was now. The flames were growing, gnawing through the wood floors with unrelenting wrath. We were closer to the danger zone that I had been any moment before this one. Above us, the flames had already eaten through the floor, and it was then that I realized the floor had given way beneath him. Soon, this floor would collapse too . . . how soon was unknown.
“Kyle, it’s Harper,” I said, still as a statue. “Can you hear me?”
There was no response or movement. I’d have to risk putting my own weight next to his and simply hope and pray that the floor wouldn’t give way and send us falling to our deaths.
“I should have expected that you would be the result of my inevitable death,” I said out-loud, taking a step towards him. “And here we are, inside a burning building—without Porter, I noticed—and your ass is being saved by the one person you simply can’t stand. Oh, the irony.”
Wood cracked beneath me. I stopped, breath catching in my throat. When it didn’t give way immediately, I continued, dodging flames while trying to see through the black smoke that wrapped me in a suffocating cocoon.
“Kyle, please don’t die,” I said, lowering myself next to his still body. “I know we’re not best friends, but I could use a morale boost at work.” My hands shook as I gently rolled him over, onto his back. For a split second of utter terror, I was sure he was dead, and that I was too late. Then his eyes flickered open under the mask of his suit, and he stared up at me.
“It’s about time,” he muttered. Laughing hysterically, I reset his PDA and helped him sit up.
“He went back to get help,” Kyle said, wincing. “Are you the help?”
“You can call me Hallie. I thought he was in here with you. Are you hurt?”
“Would you be hurt if you fell through a floor?”
“I can make it hurt worse, if that’s what you want,” I snapped. Grunting under his weight, I helped Kyle to his feet. His leg was injured, I didn’t know how badly, but I didn’t have much time to wonder how in the hell we were going to make it safely back down the stairs on his bum leg, because the first step we took set off a series of events that I never in my entire life thought I’d have to face.
It was the sound of splintering wood that braced me for what was coming next. I knew Kyle heard it, too, because his grip on my shoulder instantly tightened.
“Hurry,” I breathed, but it was no use. Another crack like a gunshot vibrated through the air, and the floor beneath our feet cracked and splintered. The last thing I saw was the malicious read and orange flames lapping at our feet as the floor gave way beneath us.
Other than that, my little family is doing well. Husband is still working hard to keep us above water, and our darling tiny human just gets cuter every day. We intend to buy a house this year, preferably by this summer, even. That will be nice, I’m pretty tired of renting.
I’ll try to post here more, just for those who are interested.
Be good to each other, guys.
(P.s. here’s a pic of my family in Vegas. Just for something fun.)
As many of you know, I’ve been writing for a long time. Like, a really long time. I’ve tried time and time again to get an agent and land a book deal and get rich and essentially just be JK Rowling.
But that didn’t happen. What happened instead was, I found an agent, she loved my book, she worked for a legitimate agency, and then right before my book went on submission, she dropped her clients to be a full-time mom.
So, there I was again, lost in the slush with a heavy heart and nowhere to go.
Sadly (or not so sadly), this is not an agent news post. There will be no jumping up and down and screaming and crying because I finally found an agent who loves my writing as much as I do and now I’M FINALLY THERE.
No, this is a, “I’m taking this shit into my own hands” post. This is a, “My writing is good, I’m not the only one who thinks so, and I’m tired of waiting” post. This is a, “I’m going to get my work in the hands of people without an agent” post.
After waiting for (it will be 6 months at the end of this month) an agent to get back to me about two books she has, I’ve finally said—in the words of Stephen King—fuggedaboutit!
It’s come to my attention that becoming an indie publisher is growing more and more popular with each coming day. I know multiple authors, in fact, who are cutting ties with their agents to go indie. The more research I did, the more I found how successful people can be in the self-publishing world . . . sometimes even more successful than the traditional way!
My debut Romantic Suspense novel, Capture Me, will be out on Amazon on May 15, 2018. I have the help of so many wonderful people on my side, people who are helping me get the word out and prepare for the release. Until then, you’ll be seeing teasers, a cover reveal, you’ll have the chance to enter in a book giveaway, and so much more.
Stay tuned. This release will come sooner than you think.
I’ve written ten books.
Out of those ten books, I’ve come to find over time that at least half of them involve a protagonist who is struggling in an abusive relationship.
It’s something I never really noticed until lately, and the reason for this is because I have gotten a lot of feedback and critiques from Beta Readers and agents alike. A lot of the feedback looks like this:
“I don’t understand why the MC doesn’t leave this abusive guy. He’s such an asshole.”
“Your character seems stronger than this, why is she staying with him?”
“You make it clear this guy is a jerk, why does your MC stay with him?”
For a long time I took these words and pondered them, gave them deep thought, but then never changed it. People were adamant about it. They hated to see such a strong protagonist struggle with an emotionally and/or physically abusive relationship. WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT? It’s stupid. No one does that, no one stays with someone like that.
But actually, maybe they do.
Writers write what they know. It’s common knowledge. It’s said that in every, single book ever written, part of the writer comes through in their main character. And it’s true. I’m not in an abusive relationship. My husband is probably the coolest, most chill guy I’ve ever met in my life. I’m lucky I ended up with him, because for a while I was going down the wrong path.
But I’ve seen it. I’ve witnessed first-hand abusive, controlling relationships. Some of the darkest moments in my entire life revolve around those times.
I’ve come to find in my critique partner feedback that it’s generally the people whom I know have struggled with those kind of relationships in their own lives—or at least witnessed them—never make those comments. Because they get it. For others, it seems so easy: leave the asshole. Escape. You’re so tough, so get out.
That’s not how it works. Not even a little bit.
I write about these abusive relationships in my books because I know them. I’ve seen them. And honestly? There’s nothing more empowering to me than allowing my protagonist to break free at the end.
That’s the whole point, and sometimes life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, okay?
Women (and men) in abusive, controlling relationships aren’t in these relationships because they want to be . . . I promise you that. So while you’re reading about a character in a book who’s struggling to escape from this bad relationship with no idea how to do it (or fear, because fear is a huge culprit in abusive relationships), try to understand that most people can’t just “dump” their boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife whatever when they’re stuck in this vicious cycle of abuse.
THAT’S why I write characters who struggle in these kind of relationships, because that’s real life. Of course their partner is an asshole. That’s the point. Of course they get battered. That’s the point. But getting strong enough to leave, walk away, to say enough is enough . . . that’s the real point. It always has been.
Ignorance is bliss, but the real world certainly isn’t.