Tuesday, January 6, 2015
Two years ago my New Year's resolution was to start a blog...so I did. My original intent was to just get in the habit of writing every day. I loved to read and had stumbled on the newly formed NA "genre" of books so reviewing books I was reading just made sense. I quickly found that a perk of all this reading and reviewing was that I got to meet some incredible people...authors, other readers, and other bloggers.
At the beginning I read and reviewed a lot, but soon discovered that I wasn't writing much else but reviews. Then I began editing, which I absolutely love and can't imagine doing anything else (except maybe writing full-time but that's a long way off), and I began writing even less. So I cut out the reviews and just began promoting indie authors and books by way of cover reveals, blog tours, giveaways, etc.
In 2014, I self-published my first book, Collaboration, which I co-wrote with Michelle Lynn, and continued working on my solo debut, Defying All Odds. I also joined the whole social media world (I'm on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, and now tsu), a great way to connect with other authors and readers but also an easy way to lose hours each day.
That brings me to the beginning of 2015, where I'm still trying to wrap up my solo debut, write another books with Michelle, and playing around with several other books I've begun but never found the time to write. So my New Year's Resolution this year is to self-pub at least 3 books, continue editing (though maybe a little less than last year), and remain active in social media but limit it to an hour each day. Unfortunately, the one thing that got the cut is the blog. Although it doesn't take up near as much time as it did while I was reviewing, I just can't afford the time it does take, not if I want to accomplish my writing and publishing goals.
So I wanted to thank you, friends, for following along in my blogging journey, reading my reviews, commenting, and supporting me in my writing aspirations. I hope that if you haven't already, you'll find me on one of the social medial places and we can continue to stay in touch there. I will continue promoting friends and fellow authors on Facebook (on this page) and you'll continue seeing giveaways there as well.
I'm so grateful to all those I've met through this blog and I look forward to all those I'll meet through writing...stay in touch and, as always, happy reading!
Monday, December 15, 2014
“So you fix broken hearts, do you?” I ask. “Seems a little ironic.”
Noah Carter is one of the best cardiothoracic doctors in the country. He’s incredibly intelligent, funny, kind and he’s a beast in the bedroom. He has scars that drizzle down his chest and painful memories of an unforgettable night that plague his every waking hour.
Seven years ago, Noah stumbled upon me at the side of a grave and saved me in one of the most compassionate ways another human being can save another. I will always love him for that. Always.
He loved me in a way that no man has ever loved me since, and I gave him everything. I gave him it all until my secrets and lies tore us apart, forcing me to shatter his heart into a thousand little pieces.
Seven years ago he loved me, but now he hates me. And I hate that he hates me. Leaving Noah is my biggest regret in life - and I have a lot of things that I regret. A lot.
I’m Ariel Miller and this is the story of Noah and Me.
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/
Noah-Me-Beckie-Stevenson- ebook/dp/B00QY86JG6/ref=sr_1_ 4?ie=UTF8&qid=1418504309&sr=8- 4&keywords=Noah+and+me
Amazon CA: http://www.amazon.ca/Noah-
Me-Beckie-Stevenson-ebook/dp/ B00QY86JG6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8& qid=1418504368&sr=8-1& keywords=Noah+and+Me
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/
Noah-Me-Beckie-Stevenson- ebook/dp/B00QY86JG6/ref=sr_1_ 1/276-5719797-5250737?s= digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid= 1418503532&sr=1-1&keywords= Noah+and+Me
“I need to shower,” he says.
I nod. “Me too.”
“Let me go first,” he says. “I know that’s not very gentlemanly of me, but I’m filthy and I don’t like being dirty.”
He really shouldn’t have a job as a gravedigger then. “Okay.”
He turns and walks out of the bedroom. I sit up, watching him go into the bathroom that’s directly opposite and notice that he hasn’t shut the door properly. I hear the shower switch on, and then without really thinking about what I’m doing, I creep towards the bathroom. I peep through the opening and see a modern-looking bathroom suite that looks kind of odd compared to the rest of the house, which creaks like an old lady’s hip. All that I can see is the mirror and sink, but the mirror shows me the rest of the room. And him.
He grabs the bottom of his black t-shirt and pulls it up to reveal a grid of muscles that are splattered across his stomach and chest. My eyes want to devour each and every single one of them but are stuck to his chest for a completely different reason. From the top of his right shoulder, a stream of scars starts. As they near his nipple, the stream becomes a river. Then, as it falls down his side, it turns into a waterfall. I wonder what could have happened. They look like burns and they look painful. I shake my head, trying to ignore the fact that I care if he’s been hurt. Why do I care? He’s a complete stranger that I’ve only just met. I don’t care. I’m just being curious.
I look back over his chest, ignoring the scars, and concentrate on his muscles. I’ve seen pictures of men looking like that, but I didn’t think normal guys were capable of getting so buff. He lets the t-shirt fall to the floor with a huff and then his hands undo the button of his jeans before he slides them down his muscular legs.
He looks like a swimmer. His broad, round shoulders spread outwards before morphing down into a narrow waist, complete with inner rib muscles. He must be good, I think. You don’t get muscles in those sorts of places naturally without doing a lot of sport. And you wouldn’t do that much sport if you weren’t good at it. Or maybe it’s all the twisting he must do when he’s digging holes in the ground.
He rubs his hands down his face as if he’s stressed and then pushes his boxers down his legs.
Beckie's real name is Rebecca, but she get’s called (and answers to) any of the following…Beckie, Bek, Becca, Rebecca, Pip, Pippy or Stevo.
Beckie is the author of 'Sorrow Woods,' the 'Existing' series and 'Noah and Me.'
She is due to publish more YA and NA novels in 2015/16.
She lives in Staffordshire, England, with her partner and two children.
Beckie likes putting music on in the house and dancing around like a mad woman.
When she isn’t playing with her children, doing housework, dancing around the house like a mad woman, walking, cycling reading or writing, then she can be found working in an investment bank. Or sleeping.
You can find Beckie here…
You can find Beckie here…
RELEASE LAUNCH HOSTED BY:
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Title: Wings Over Poppies (Over #2)
Author: J.A. DeRouen
Genre: New Adult
Release Date: January 26, 2015
Cover Design: Mae I Design And Photography
Perfection. One word. Three syllables. Every reason why I’ll never have the one thing I truly want. I stand dutifully on the pedestal he’s built, waiting for the day he truly sees me. Then one amazing night, he lets down his walls, only to leave me the next day. Years have passed, and I’ve tried to move on with my life. But I still dream of him. I still miss him everyday. The memories haunt me. How can I look to the future when my past remains a mystery? The time has come to find the boy who stole my heart and ran away without a word. But not everyone who is lost wants to be found. My name is Alexandra Fontaine, and this is my story of unfinished love. Wings Over Poppies is book #2 in The Over Series and can be read as a standalone novel.
About The Author
J.A. Derouen lives in South Louisiana with her husband, son (aptly nicknamed "The Professor"), and her furry friend, Scout. She has earned bachelor’s degrees in psychology and nursing. When she's not writing or inhaling romance novels by the stack, she works as a women's health nurse. She’s been an avid reader and daydreamer since childhood, and she's never stopped turning the page to get to the next happily ever after.
Buy Book One
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Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Leaving her small town behind, Bethany Casse moves to Chicago in search of a new life. Working at a top financial bank brings her into contact with two men who are as different as night and day.
Kent Plack, heir to Plack Industries, has no interest in being with a woman for longer than one night. A spoiled and lazy man-whore, he is completely content with his playboy lifestyle, and Beth is surprised when they form an unlikely friendship.
Brian Burcham, a finance banker, is gorgeous and respectful. A man plucked from Beth’s dreams, he is definite husband material. Unfortunately, Beth has a hard rule against dating coworkers, but Brian is determined to change her mind.
When a deadbeat mother and money problems follow her to Chicago, Beth is offered a solution that could fix everything. Marrying for money seems simple enough, but when lines become blurred, Beth faces difficult choices, making her realize that the easy way out just made her life even harder than before.
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Excerpt from Marry Me for Money:
My pounding on the door accelerated louder and louder while the beat of my heart raced in my chest. I’d been calling Kent for two days, and he hadn’t picked up. The last time I’d seen him was when he left the bar drunk.
When he opened the door, I released the breath that I had been holding. His hair was disheveled and he looked like a mess but I didn’t care. I was just so relieved to see him in person, safe in front of me. As I walked in the room, I noticed all the shades were drawn, and his apartment reeked of a foul smell.
“Where have you been? I’ve been worried about you. I was about to call your mom, but I didn’t want to worry her,” I said, pushing past him and barging into the condo.
I followed behind him and surveyed the room. Liquor bottles and beer cans were on the floor, and shot glasses and tumblers spanned every inch of the coffee table.
I dropped my bag on he hardwood floor and started to draw up the shades. I heard Kent huff as I drew the first set. He pulled a pillow over his head to block the sunlight from hitting his face.
“Did you have a part and not invite me?” My head lifted towards the bedroom, and I was relieved that there wasn’t a woman in his bed.
I walked into the kitchen, got out a garbage bag, and started tossing out the cans and bottles, one by one. With each drop into the bag, I could feel my temperature rising. “Do you want to die of alcohol poisoning or something?” I asked, hearing the bottle drop with a ping as it hit the bottom of the bag touching the floor.
“Seriously, what’s the matter with you? I don’t want to be your mom, but what the hell is this? I mean, you can party, but party responsibly,” I scolded.
I stopped towards him and lifted the pillow from his head. “Are you hearing me right now? What’s the matter with you?”
He lifted his head to look at me. The bags under his eyes were noticeably dark. “What do you care?”
I was taken aback by his tone, but I let it pass. “I care that you don’t die,” I said, glaring at him. “I’ve been calling you. The least you could have done was called me back to tell me you were alive.”
He sat up slowly as if every bone in his body ached, and he placed his head in both his hands. “How’s Brian?” he asked, his voice sharp.
I reeled back, startled by his question. “Okay,” I replied, unsure of where this was headed.
“Did you give him his birthday present?” Kent snapped, lifting his head to meet my eyes, his jaw clenched.
Mia Kayla is a New Adult and Contemporary Romance writer who lives in Illinois. She is wifey to the husband of the year and mommy to three unbelievable cute little girls who have multiplied her grey hairs. In her free time she loves reading romance novels, jamming to boy bands, catching up on celebrity gossip and designing flowers for weddings. Most of the time, she can be caught on the train with her nose in a book, sporting a cheeky grin because the main characters finally get their happily-ever-after at the end. She loves reading about happy endings but has more fun writing them.
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