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Perfect Sense by: Amanda Cowen

Posted in Book Blog Tour, Book Promotion, ebook with tags , , , , , , on March 27, 2016 by mrsmack97

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Welcome to Ready, Set,Blog. It is my absolute pleasure to spotlight Amanda Cowen’s,  New Adult Contemporary Romance, Perfect Sense. I don’t know about you but the cover alone makes me want to one click! Then I read the blurb. Sold.

 

Perfect Sense

He’s gorgeous.

He’s reckless.

And he’s every woman’s dirty fantasy in the state of California.., except one… Quinn Ashby.

Recent graduate of Penn and top of her class, Quinn is whip smart, ambitious and interning as the new marketing coordinator for the Bexley Bruisers American Hockey League team. The last thing she needs is to waste her time on guys…especially one as lethal to her focus as Cash Brooks.

But once the bad boy hockey star tempts her into his world, threatening her professional future, she’s forced to decide whether to let him into her heart…or to leave him behind forever.

Meet The Author – Amanda Cowen
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Amanda Cowen can be found eating cupcakes, singing off-key, or watching

a good RomCom when she isn’t trapped on her computer writing stories.

She is an “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” fanatic, a hater of roller-

coasters and a country music junkie. She lives in Thunder Bay, ON where

the summers are short and the winters are long.

Amanda would love to hear from her readers. Contact her via her website,

www. amandacowen.com, become a fan on Facebook, follow her on

Instagram @authoramandacown, or follow her on Goodreads.

http://www.amandacowen.com

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/Amanda-Cowen-600953916598286/?ref=hl

Instagram – @authoramandacowen

Goodreads – Amanda Cowen

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Introducing #freebiefriday

Posted in Author, ebook, erotic romance, FreebieFriday, novella, paranormal, romance with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 26, 2016 by mrsmack97

TGIF. I love those letters. To me, they say, get ready for Saturday. I immediately think of sleeping in, being lazy and dragging my feet around the house wearing fuzzy slippers. There’s no appointments looming, no drop off schedule, no car pooling, no work–just me and a hot cup of coffee while I pour over my latest “hot” read.

I love erotic romance but if the mood strikes, I can dig into a mystery, a horror or even a little chick-lit. Hey, what can I say–I’m a reader.

I love to write erotic romance but I do tend to cross genre’s. A lot. There’s just so much sex you can write before you need to take a break and write something else. But, if I must be honest, those scenes sneak into all of my books at some point or another. Some a lot more than others. In the last year, I started a paranormal series, A Late Summer Bloom – Witches Of The Bayou.

I even wrote a free prequel to kick off the series which brings me to #freebiefriday. Although this prequel is readily available for you to download at any time by visiting the Evernight Publishing website, I thought I might gift it to you right here on my blog. But a little at a time. Please enjoy the first three chapters of my free prequel, The Beginning – Witches Of The Bayou. Every Friday I will post another three chapters until you have the entire novella. Read it here, all of it, on my blog.

If you are one of those people who need the rest of the story right away…well…I can relate. Visit http://www.evernightpublishing.com/the-beginning-by-cherrie-mack

OR…Fill out the contact form at the bottom of this post and I will send the remaining chapters your way. That’s it. By filling out the form, I will enter your name in a drawing to receive A Late Summer Bloom – Witches Of The Bayou.

DISCLAIMER…This novella includes ADULT CONTENT and is not intended for those under the age of 18.

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WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright© 2014 Cherrie Mack

 

Chapter One

 

New Orleans, 1992

 

Cecily Jareau’s clumsiness was a definite win today. At least that’s what she thought after a muscled, tattooed arm reached out, catching her as she stumbled forward into a crowded Jackson Square. As she stared into the stranger’s smoky lavender eyes, she tried to ignore the embarrassing trip over her own feet that landed her in his arms. Left speechless by his good looks, she wasn’t too unhappy about her misstep and the interesting predicament it caused. Silently, she searched for something clever to say but nothing came out except for that strangled grunt when she lurched forward.

“You okay?” His velvety baritone voice commanded attention without being forceful.

She felt her cheeks flush as she tried to right herself. Soaking up his masculine scent, she smiled. He was easy on the eyes but his handsome features weren’t the only thing Cecily appreciated. His firm yet gentle grip sent a warm tingle through her body. She studied him before speaking—after all, witches were so easy to spot these days. However, here in New Orleans, it was a bit of a challenge. The variety of people, some feigning supernatural powers, could be daunting. But, the stranger before her wasn’t putting out any mating pheromones which led her to believe he wasn’t a witch. Good. I’m safe.

Her voice came out in a dreamy whisper. “Obviously I can be clumsy but otherwise fine.”

His smile was slow to appear but when it did, a mere feather could have sent her toppling all over again.

“Yeah—you’re no worse for the wear. You be careful now.” He winked.

“Thanks. I will.”

When he released her, she wanted to go after him. Instead, she watched him strut away into the crowd until he was out of sight. Cecily shook her head. Now, if witches were made like that, I’d be mating like crazy. With regret, she continued on in the opposite direction to the Creole café where she was to meet her friend, Brigitte.

New Orleans—now this was the city where she wanted to spend her time. Not in a stuffy, slower-than-molasses Florida town. Why they would choose Cottonwood Landing for their home base was a mystery to her. It had no culture, no excitement. Although the sprawling estate was a royal witch’s palace and housed the most blue-blooded witches of the covens, here she felt different. Normal.

However, according to the higher-ups, Cecily was anything but normal. She was statuesque, beautiful, talented and most importantly—royal. She could hear the words they repeated over and over like a mantra. But Cecily’s truth was far less intriguing. She was of royal blood for sure but mostly she felt tired, discouraged, and just plain miserable.

Her abilities, her royal status, it was all a burden. Although humans were of a lesser race, she couldn’t help but yearn to be like them. Not knowing the things she knew would be a relief. The happiness she desired always seemed to evade her. And she wanted her life to be different—she wanted to be human. What better place than the city of New Orleans? It was the perfect setting to blend in with the human population for a while. To her, the irony was amusing. Here, human people often pretended to be witches. If they only knew how real we are.

The Creole café was bustling when Cecily arrived but she managed to spot Brigitte easily enough. The flamboyant witch captivated everyone around her by her brightly colored clothes, large-brimmed hat and red lipstick.

“Cecily my dear. It’s so good to see you.” She held her arms open wide, inviting Cecily in for one of her famous hugs. The embrace was more like a squeeze from a python and it lasted way too long for her liking, but she managed to stifle her annoyance. Brigitte released her, waving her arms in a downward motion signaling her to sit.

“Sit my dear. Mmm. Still as stunning as ever. You never age, do you?”

Cecily rolled her eyes. “You are dramatic but quite good for my ego.”

“Seriously, Cecily. A woman of your looks and status should have the witches falling at her feet.”

She laughed it off. The only line of witches she fought off was the line to get out the door. She felt nothing for them and the feeling was mutual.

“Maybe it’s my black wavy hair that ensnares them and my piercing dark eyes that send them running for the hills.” She widened her eyes then batted her lashes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. So—tell me everything.” Brigitte waved her arms in the air erecting a privacy wall to protect their conversation from human curiosity.

Cecily scrunched up her face. “Not much to tell since that last time I saw you.”

“Nonsense. How are things in Cottonwood Landing?”

Knowing she’d have to put up with her friend’s meddling questions, she let out a sigh. “Fine. Percy is running things quite well.”

“How is that fine specimen of male witch?”

“Still holding out hope for one of us royal witches to birth a female child.”

“Anyone nearing a tenth pregnancy?”

“Not that I know of.”

The silent pause gave her an uneasy feeling. It told her Brigitte was fishing for information.

Brigitte narrowed her eyes, trying to be nonchalant. “How many is it for you now?”

Ah ha! Cecily felt resentment coil in her gut. Never able to carry her pregnancies to term, she felt inept. Unworthy. “I lost count,” she stated coldly.

Brigitte’s voice rose up an octave. “I’m sorry. Did I hit a nerve?”

“You always hit a nerve Brigitte,” Cecily snapped.

She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s difficult for our kind to become pregnant, Cecily. You should know this. And carrying a child has its share of problems for us as well. But, our race needs its tenth power. If you are nearing a tenth pregnancy, you should try to have a child. You could birth a female. You owe it to our people to at least try.”

That. Was. It. Her stomach churned with anger. She was realizing she had been lured here to discuss the future of the covens. Not her future. Not her life. No—it was never about her. It was always about the covens, the royals—the need for the tenth power. Cecily leaned in and told her friend just how she felt.

“I owe it to our people? The same people who treat female witches like chattel? Is that what this get-together is about? To convince me to procreate?”

Feigning outrage at her accusation, Brigitte held her hand against her chest, displaying blood red nails. “I can’t believe you would think such a thing. I’m only asking because you are still of child bearing years. We all must do our part, Cecily. You are only thirty-five.”

Cecily narrowed her eyes. “That’s right and I’m far too old for this! I’m done. I’m tired of sacrificing my happiness, my life, my desires—all for what? On the off chance I’ll give birth to the tenth power? Let someone else deal with it. I want out of this vicious cycle. I sleep with witch after witch just to let them spill their seed inside me. Where’s my pleasure? Where’s my payoff? There is no love, no romance, no relationship. Most of these male witches don’t even take the time to arouse me. They just shove their cocks into me without as much as a second glance. It’s revolting.” She shook her head at Brigitte with disgust and continued with her tirade. “You come here pretending to care. Tricking me into believing I might have one friend left in this whole coven who actually cares about me. Well, it looks as though I was wrong. Percy put you up to this didn’t he?”

Brigitte looked around the café, her desire to keep up appearances obvious. The patrons might not hear what they were saying but they certainly could see her angry demeanor.

“Put a lid on your anger, Cecily. We don’t want to bring attention to ourselves. Percy is worried for our race. And he is right to worry. There are murders every week now. One—several. The warlocks are taking the souls of our loved ones and we are losing what little control we have left. The travelers are sparse, their army weakening. If there is a tenth power born today, we’d still have to wait years before she comes of age to access her power. That means it will take almost twenty years of waiting. If it doesn’t happen soon, we could all be doomed.”

Cecily no longer wanted to carry the responsibility of the coven on her shoulders. “Let the travelers kill the warlocks. That’s what they pledged to do. I’ve heard stories about them. They’re nothing but power hungry immortals—let them earn their keep.”

Brigitte spoke as if trying to reason with her.   “The travelers are thinning out. Most are reverting back to witch status and dying off. They’ve seen too much blood and sadness. They themselves are a dying race.”

Cecily’s chair made a loud screech as she abruptly pushed it back and stood up. Towering over Brigitte, she pointed her finger in her face. “Let the master of the realm worry about it. I’m through! And I’ll tell you another thing—I’m not going to allow myself to be used anymore. I refuse to be a whore for the cause. I can promise you, there isn’t a male witch on this planet who will get within ten feet of me!”

When Cecily stood up and marched toward the exit, she vowed just that. She swore off the witch population. From now on, if she couldn’t be human, she’d pretend to be.

****

Brigitte watched her leave, ignoring the stares of the locals. She rummaged through her oversized bag and pulled out her cell phone. The large clunky thing was more of a nuisance than it was useful. She pulled up the antenna and dialed. When she heard Percy’s voice on the other end, she let out a loud sigh.

“I’m sorry Percy. She told me nothing and I’m afraid the news gets worse. Our Cecily has refused to try anymore. It doesn’t look as though she’ll be the host for the tenth power.”

 

 

Chapter Two

 

Cecily couldn’t walk away fast enough. Out the door and into the street she went without looking back. She was shedding her witch world and trading it in for a new one. A human one. No longer would she cower to that royal bunch of bullies. She would live here in New Orleans and to hell with everything else. It was her turn to make a grab at happiness. And if she didn’t try, she’d have no one to blame but herself.

Without a direction in mind, she walked and walked until her feet ached. Guilt, slow and steady, weaseled its way into her mind. No. She wouldn’t allow it. She gave too many precious years—youthful years to her coven. She owed them nothing and nothing was what they deserved.

Cecily couldn’t walk another step. She must’ve circled the French Quarter more than a few times as it was growing dark. Stopping to survey her surroundings, she leaned her weight from one foot to another, wincing when she wiggled her sore toes around the inside of her shoes. It was then she heard it, the sound of a horn. Not a car horn, but a trumpet.

The melodious sound enveloped her, almost making her swoon. It called to her in a way she couldn’t describe. It wasn’t magic but it was damn close. And Cecily had to find its source. She followed the sound of the music straight to the door of Al’s House of Blues.

Inside, she was bathed in the smell of dry martinis and cigarette smoke so thick she could cut it with a knife. But Cecily didn’t care, she never did. It was a human smell and for that she was thankful. The music lifted her spirit, feeding it light and encouragement. The mellow, soulful sounds coming from the horn lulled her into a better mood. Maybe her life wasn’t so bad after all?

Cecily needed a better look at the bandmates gathered on the tiny platform. She moved through the crowd, slowly bobbing and weaving her way to the stage. As luck would have it, there was an empty table, right up front. She made a beeline for the seat and quickly sat down, her eyes searching out the person responsible for making such sinful sounds. Stunned, her breath hitched in her throat as she stared at the musician playing the instrument that willed her inside.

The tattoo on his arm stood out, assuring her this man and the man who saved her from falling into the street earlier today, were one and the same. His jet black hair looked glossy under the lights. His cheeks flushed a pinkish hue as he played his instrument with precision. Every sound reverberated under her skin, stroking a place deep inside—a place long forgotten and frozen with contempt.

She watched his fingers move, switching from one note to the other, mesmerizing fingers she suddenly wanted to feel touching her. Cecily dreamily watched him deliver a solo, the notes stroking her body, electrifying each erogenous zone. And when he was done, her body throbbed with a desire she had never known.

Continuing to watch him with intensity, she concluded he was one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen. Somehow, in this place, in this light, with that instrument, he became her sole focus. And when his lavender eyes met hers, he smiled a knowing smile that, if possible, made her heart swell almost to bursting. Recognition lit his features, causing him to put a little more oomph into his performance. Suddenly, she felt as if he were playing just for her. The music rocked her body, penetrating deep until she swayed in her chair. His eyes widened as she sensuously performed, teasing his senses.

The time seemed to fly by when Cecily realized their set was over. Applause erupted and the crowd eventually thinned out. Apparently they were the one and only draw for this little dive of a blues joint. But if he continued to play here, she’d reserve this very seat for the rest of her life. The feeling she had at this moment was better than anything she’d ever felt before. And Cecily wanted more of it.

As she allowed herself some time to regroup, remorse quickly set in. Afraid she’d made a fool of herself, she decided a swift exit was a necessity. Who was she kidding? She was a thirty-five-year-old woman who, in the course of a day, acted like a clumsy fool and then a lovesick groupie. Cecily rolled her eyes at her stupidity. She scanned the club for the exit, got up from her chair, and headed straight for the door.

“I hope you don’t think you’re leaving,” the deep baritone voice said, a voice she heard once before and prayed to the fates she’d hear again.

Cecily stopped and turned around to find him standing inches from her. “I—yes I was. Just. Leaving. I planned on going earlier but your music—your music held me prisoner.”

“Prisoner? I like that. Are you a big fan of the blues?”

I live them. “Not really. This is my first time.”

He held his hand out to her. She obligingly placed her hand in his, watching as he brought the back of her hand to his lips, applying a chaste kiss to her skin. His eyes sparkled when he offered her a slight smile.

“There is a first time for everything and I hope I made yours one to remember.”

She was so enthralled she couldn’t pull her hand away. “I’m Cecily. And I don’t think I’ll ever forget tonight.”

Even his laugh was like music to her ears. She felt like a young girl who just discovered her first crush.

“I’m James.”

“It’s nice to meet you, James.” After a few seconds of silence Cecily leaned in close to his ear. “Can I have my hand back?”

She felt his grip loosen then tighten again. “No—I don’t think so. I’d like to hang on to you a little longer. Or at least until you agree to have a drink with me.”

She let out a nervous giggle. “I guess I do need my hand to function.”

“After that performance, I need a cool drink.”

“It was a very good show.”

“I’m not talking about my performance. You got me pretty heated up there with those moves in your seat.”

Cecily swallowed hard, embarrassment firing up her cheeks. “Oh—I’m sorry. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea but I—”

He pulled her close, so close his breath tickled her neck, sending shivers down her spine. “It’s just a drink Cecily. Nothing more.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s fine.”

His deep chuckle made her legs weak. This man could take her right here—right now. And the feeling was so foreign, it caught her off guard.

“Shall we?” He lifted his arm. Chivalry isn’t dead after all.

As she laced her arm through his, she narrowed her eyes at him. “How old are you?”

He gave her smile that could melt ice in a blizzard. “I’m thirty-two and you are—twenty eight?”

She giggled. “Nice try, Romeo.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Birthday Wish For You…2015

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 15, 2015 by mrsmack97

 

My Birthday Wish For You…2015

It is again that time of year. In case you are new to this, every year on my birthday I give up my birthday wishes for a chance to pass them on to you, my friends, loved ones and dear readers. This year is no different. So here it goes.

I wish for you to make a new friend because we can never have enough.

I wish for you to experience the love of a rescue animal. It will do your soul some good.

I wish for you to be kind and remember whatever you put out into the universe will make its way back to your door—good or bad, so be careful.

I wish for you to keep your personal space clutter free and your mind will follow.

I wish for you to believe in a higher power. Life will be much easier to bear.

I wish for you a great love, one that rages in your soul like a thousand fires. And if you’ve found it like me, I wish for you to keep it. Everything is different without it.

I wish for you to be happy with yourself, love handles and all.

And remember…

Dieting still sucks but sickness is worse.

Broken hearts are terrible but never loving is worse.

Loneliness is a state of mind, find your purpose. It’s never too late.

Always try to see the glass half full. It makes a big difference. Trust me.

Give yourself a break, learn to relax. Free yourself from the electronics we favor to take a walk on the beach, near the river or in the park.

And…if for some reason you feel God has given you a second chance this year, be thankful.

Realize what’s important and love with your last breath. In the end that’s all there really ever is.

All my love always,

lips4

I Measure My Success Through Failure–Do You?

Posted in Author with tags , , , , , , , , , on June 19, 2014 by mrsmack97

“Some changes look negative on the surface but you will soon realize that space is being created in your life for something new to emerge.” ― Eckhart Tolle

Changes—they’ve never been high on my, to do list. I was one of those people who always seemed satisfied with the status quo. Is that you too? A “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” sorta person. I know some of you who are reading this blog post can give me an unequivocal, yes.

Which brings me to the quote at the beginning of this post—without change, be it good or bad, we’d never learn, grow or achieve success.

Failure sucks. That’s plain to see. Everyone experiences it and everyone despises it. But if you didn’t fail, would you know how to measure success? Would you even know what it feels like?

When I look back over my life, I can tell you what each failure taught me. You don’t always see it when it happens, but looking back, for me, it’s always clear as day. My success? Not so much. I achieve, I move forward to the next thing.

It made me realize that we don’t spend our life chasing after success. We spend it chasing failure. For through a series of mishaps, disappointments, frustration and sometimes anger, a seed is planted. And one day, if we’re lucky, it becomes the flowering rose of success.

So, the next time you get a rejection, a disappointment or a failing grade, don’t be discouraged. Look beyond the failure, search for the lesson and remember… never give up because we are all meant to do great things. ((HUGS))

Cherrie
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Ever here the phrase, “the long road to success.” Yeah….I’m still on it.

The Beginning-Witches Of The Bayou-FREE READ

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 27, 2014 by mrsmack97

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My newest read is free, courtesy of Evernight Publishing. This paranormal romance is based on a character from A Late Summer Bloom. It occurred to me, Cecily Jareau, needed her story told. Why was she so jaded? What caused her to hate her royal coven? Why did she want to walk away from her power and her witchhood?
Because her story comes to a satisfying conclusion in A Late Summer Bloom, I thought it would be fun to go back, just a little and tell the story of how it all began. After all, don’t we all love to fall in love? That no holds barred, can’t keep our hands to ourselves, butterflies in the belly kinda love?
Yeah, me too. My hope is you take the time to download and read, The Beginning-Witches Of The Bayou and love it as much as I loved writing it.
((HUGS))
Cherrie Mack

The Beginning
Witches Of The Bayou
Free Read
Number of pages: 46

Book Description:

A young and powerful witch of royal birthright longs to be human. When she meets a human man who gives her the love she’s never known, her decision to renounce her heritage is an easy one. But, not everything is what it seems.

This exciting, short story is a prequel to A Late Summer Bloom—Witches Of The Bayou.

Excerpt:

Cecily sat at Al’s House of Blue’s for the fifth night in a row. She sat in the same seat sipping the same drink and watching James play his trumpet. Having a date afterward had become a welcome routine. She was falling hard for the dashing, swoon-worthy musician and her libido had suddenly awakened from its life of hibernation. Wanting him on every level, not just physical, had her worried.
Did she dare to dream he felt the same way? He certainly gave off a territorial vibe when it came to her. And although being human was James’ advantage, it served as his drawback as well. The fact remained, she was a witch—a witch of royal status. The covens wouldn’t allow her to renounce her origins so easily.
She sighed. James hadn’t even kissed her yet and here she was thinking of a life outside the boundaries of magic.
“You look far away tonight. Everything okay?” James stood near, his aftershave soothing her anxiety.
“I’m fine.”
He pulled a chair up close to her and sat down, taking her hands in his. “No. You were thinking about something that made you sad. I could see it in your eyes.”
“And that bothers you?”
“It bothers me a great deal.”
She stared at his mouth, licking her lips. “Why?” And why haven’t you kissed me?
Without warning, swift and certain, James leaned in and kissed her lips. The contact surprised her, making her pull back. But as she leaned away, he leaned forward, not allowing her to move out of his reach. His lips claimed her, branding her with a fiery passion she never experienced. The crowd was no longer a consequence as she returned his affection. Their tongues entwined in a blistering exchange sending a mass of intense impulses bolting through her blood.
The velvety texture of his mouth was more than she could stand. His tongue, hot and slick, moved in a sinuous rhythm, owning her, imprinting his being within her heart. This wasn’t a kiss—this was a declaration. And Cecily wanted more of it. When he pulled away, she felt exposed, like a raw bundle of nerves left unprotected in the smoky atmosphere.
Applause could be heard from behind her, the audience clapping at their display. The glorious feeling disappeared quickly when Cecily recognized Brigitte standing at the back of the room. James leaned over to whisper in her ear. “After this set is over—I wanna do that again.”
She gave him a nervous smile. “Yes. I’d like that. But right now, I need to use the powder room.” She fanned herself, gave him a wink and rose up on wobbly legs. When she headed for the ladies room she saw Brigitte fall in step behind her.
After they waited for it to clear out, Brigitte leveled a stern look at her. “A human man? Really?”
Cecily stood with her hands on her hips. “James. His name is James. And yes I want a human man because ultimately, I want to be human.”
Brigitte’s eyes widened as if Cecily had committed the worst of sins. “They are unworthy. Not just of a witch but—but you? You have aristocratic blood in your veins. You can’t be serious.”
“Oh I’m serious. Neither you, nor Percy and his band of blue-blooded bullies are gonna change my mind.”
Brigitte’s facial features relaxed. “We’ll just see about that.” Cecily panicked. She’d been living as a human for over a week, performing no spells, no magic. She washed dishes and clothes and floors. She purchased food at the market, she cooked. And she was comfortable doing all of it. Now, about to embark on a human relationship, so close to a physical, loving connection, an obstacle was thrown in her path.
Just like always. Her life was one big hurdle after another. Happiness was a breath away and once again she was faced with a complication she never saw coming. That kiss should have been one of her happiest moments but was ruined by the mere presence of another of her kind.

The Birth Of The Binge Reader?

Posted in Author with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 18, 2014 by mrsmack97

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Everyone and no one likes a cliffhanger. And nowadays, you don’t have to put up with them. Simply put off watching your favorite show until the next one is on. This is becoming reality for countless people who save up a season worth of shows to binge watch in a weekend or two.
Let’s face it, the web has been competing with the entertainment industry for years now. Television has taken a back seat to youtube, facebook and instagram. No longer do we check the time, prepare the popcorn and sit down as a family to catch the latest episode of our favorite show. Gone are the days of squirming in our seats waiting for the next commercial to go pee.
And not to age myself, but back in the day, those cliffhangers had people talking for months on end. Speculating, guessing, chomping at the bit for any information on the fate of their favorite characters. Who shot JR? Yeah, I remember it. And what do I remember most? The amazing ratings the season premiere received. Everyone, fan of Dallas or not, tuned in to find out who committed the dastardly deed.
Not to say the season cliffhanger doesn’t work…it does but people are so impatient these days, we no longer are willing to wait, sometimes saving a season worth of shows only to watch as it coincides with the season premier. Confusing? You betcha.
Which brings me to the book series. According to some readers, they wait to start a series until there are two or more books out. I myself have been one of those ravenous readers, tearing through a book only to open the next one as soon as the first one is closed. But, seriously? If you find an appealing book, do you find yourself annoyed by the fact that the second book is not out yet? Would it determine whether or not you buy the first one? And if you do, how long is too long to wait for the next? As an author with multiple series in the works—I’d really love to know.

The Book Cover Made Me Do It…

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 11, 2014 by mrsmack97

463612939Did you ever hit that buy button based on a book cover? Yeah, me too.

One of the best moments of completing a book is knowing I will receive another cover for my collection. When the email arrives, my fingers twitch and I hold my breath until all the pixels align and…ahhh…magic.

The characters I created are there on the cover in full color. In my eyes, it solidifies their existence. And as a reader, when I come to the part of a book that’s so incredibly good, I often flip the book closed just to take another peek at the cover. These little masterpieces, have come a long way and the artists who create them are talented and oh so imaginative. And they very rarely get their share of credit for a book’s success. I hate to admit it but I’ve often overlooked the cover artist, thanking my editor and publisher profusely. Well no longer will I allow a fabulous book cover to go unnoticed.

Call it a tribute to all those overlooked, hardworking, talented and creative people who take a story and represent it as a whole in one picture. It’s supposed to catch your eye, draw you in, immediately appeal to your senses and create an attraction to the theme it represents. Without it, the blurb we authors spend time polishing to help sell our story will never be read in the first place. To join me, go to http//www.facebook.com/thehotlistbookclub and begin posting your covers today.

The hot book covers facebook page is open to authors and readers alike who want to share their beautiful cover art. I welcome it, I encourage it and I am looking forward to seeing all these beautiful covers.