Saying Goodbye to a Series
By Laura Kenyon
Right now, I am tossing a ball for my dog in the backyard where I grew up. The air feels like spring but smells like autumn, and the ground has a blanket of yellow and orange leaves. My brilliant but headstrong toddler is napping in what used to be my little brother's room. The baby in my belly is starting to get antsy. I have no idea what to make for dinner when my husband comes home from work. And there are a still million things I need to do before I release my third book ... before I officially say goodbye (at least in novel form) to the women I've considered friends since I first started molding them in my head almost twenty years ago. The combination of all these things is creating one of those deeply introspective moments during which I can hardly believe how much has changed since I was a kid ... since I was racing around this same swath of grass with my brothers and waiting for my mom to call us in for dinner.
It’s amazing how quickly life can move sometimes. In the past three years alone, I published my first two books, gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, came to terms with two autoimmune diseases, moved to a new town, became pregnant again, and finished another novel. Needless to say, it's been a mixture of amazing and bittersweet—and always, always memorable.And now I stand on another precipice: the publication of the third and final book in my Desperately Ever After series. This, too, is bittersweet.I realize it might sound silly to say I'll miss the characters in my books—just as I once thought it silly when authors said they began a project with one plan but their characters eventually & took control” and steered it somewhere else entirely. I realize it might sound even sillier because my main characters were plucked from other people’s work. The original Cinderella story is not mine. Nor is Rapunzel’s. Or Belle’s. Or those belonging to Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, or the princess who slept on the pea. But the Rapunzel in my story is a flaming martini mixed in Samantha Jones’s favorite NYC nightclub. Cinderella is far more Lynette Scavo than Charles Perrault. Belle is a nod to every literary heroine who started out making female readers cringe but steadily grew into an example of feminine strength. I used the original tales to outline their backstories (which have nothing to do with Disney, by the way), but my imagination filled in … and questioned … and rewrote … all the rest.
I suppose what I’m trying to say is that the women of Marestam are as much my children as are the bundle of insanity napping in my brother’s old room right now and the tiny ninja using my insides for target practice. They are my twenty- and thirty-something imaginary friends. Bringing their stories to a close was tough not because they didn’t give me direction, but because I really didn’t want to say goodbye.
Of course, there are opportunities for novellas. There are ideas for shorter stories featuring
either the main characters or others in their world. There might be a holiday special here or
there. But I’ll also be moving on. When the pre-order period for Skipping Midnight ends and the book goes live on November 16, it will signal the end of one era for me and the beginning of another. But for that moment, in my head I’ll be sitting on Rapunzel’s balcony, overlooking the towers of Carpale Castle alongside Belle, Cindy, Dawn, Snow, and Penny, raising my glass to friendship and to the many different ways in which we can find love.
Declan Saves the Day
I fell clumsily into his guest chair. If Declan was giving up on love, then the world was a scarier place than I thought.
Declan snorted. “Now who’s being dramatic?”
I stared into his eyes, searching for the cause of his sadness. In our many years together, I had seen him experience a wide range of emotions. Happy Declan ruled the roost, but appearances were made by Angry Declan, Embarrassed Declan, Irrational Declan and even Mortified Declan. I had never seen Bereft Declan before. I felt completely out of my element.
“But…” I sniffled. “You’re the ray of sunshine in this relationship.”
He brought his hand to his forehead in his best Southern Belle imitation. “Glowing praise indeed.”
“I’m a terrible friend.” I reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry—”
“Stop!” He squeezed my hand and smiled. “You were so young when you went through such unimaginable pain. The experience left you…”
“Beaten?” I supplied helpfully. “Shattered? Not fit for human interaction?”
“Wounded,” he said softly.
“Another brilliant assessment,” I murmured. “What can I do to help you?”
“This is what you can do. Forget you ever saw my maudlin display and tell me something good.” He clapped his hands together. “I know! When do you see Mmmorgan again?”
“You have to stop saying that. It makes me want to hurl.”
“All the more reason to keep saying it!” he sang.
“You’re the reason the word ‘incorrigible’ exists.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He took a long pull of his coffee. “Spill!”
I did my best to push the guilt aside, knowing Declan would rather gossip than discuss his personal woes. “He’s coming here for lunch today.”
Declan gasped. “And you chose this…ensemble?”
I glanced down at my black long-sleeved shirt, jeans and black lace-up boots. “What’s wrong with this?” All of my garments were hole-free for once!
“I don’t have time to explain, Meri.” He stood up, opened one of his overhead cabinets and removed a makeup kit and a selection of scarves. After giving me a final once over, he selected a deep purple scarf with bright blue flowers on it.
“You can’t be seri—”
He held up his hand. “No one asked you.” He then performed some kind of magic with this scrap of fabric which I will never be able to repeat. The scarf somehow draped carelessly across my shoulder, a series of intricate knots holding it in place. It was gorgeous.
Declan was clearly on a mission. He rifled through the makeup kit, pulling out tubes and wands in various colors, muttering to himself the whole time. I’m pretty sure I heard “hopeless frump” in there someplace. I thought about responding, but he was right. I had never cared about looking good for anyone. Until now.
Ten minutes later and a few eyebrow hairs lighter, Declan released me from my chair prison. He held up a mirror triumphantly.
I peered in tentatively, afraid he had given me more style than I could pull off, but was pleasantly surprised. Declan had evened my skin tone with a light foundation, added a hint of blush to accent my cheekbones and dusted my eyelids with shimmery pink eye shadow. He had also applied a light coat of mascara and the most beautiful shade of purple lipstick I had ever seen.
“Didn’t know you could look so good, did you?”
“No.” I giggled. “You’re a miracle worker.”
He snapped his fingers in jubilation. “That’s how I know this guy is different. You didn’t bitch and moan the way you normally do. You want to try this time. You’re ready.”
The intercom crackled to life and Courtney’s bored voice filled the office. “Meri to Dan’s office. Meri—” After a series of loud grunts, Dan’s voice reverberated through the office. “Meri, get your ass to my office now!”
Declan laughed. “Well, at least you’ll be a gorgeous corpse.”
Excerpt from Gamer Girl by Glynis Astie, Copyright 2016
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Chapter 1 (cont'd)
“Well, for starters you interrupted my morning routine,” I began. I checked the clock on my iPhone. “Can we make this quick?” I needed to make sure I got to school on time that day. “Today is my first day of my senior year of high school, and I really don’t want to be late.” The last thing I needed was a tardy on my record. I was desperately trying to keep my grades and performance up to par, especially since I'd be applying to colleges soon, and I wanted to keep my spot as the school paper's journalist.
Lucas huffed, and gave me a dirty look. “Are you serious?” he asked, with too much attitude. “What do you think I was supposed to be doing today? I should be starting my first day of my senior year, too. Instead, I'm sitting here, arguing with you.” He continued to glare at me.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, as I tried to compose my anger. I had to remember that even on my worst day I wasn’t a dead kid trying to figure out what I was doing still on earth.
“Well, you should be,” he snapped angrily back at me and ran his hands through his perfectly styled hair.
“Okay, bye,” I stated, and I waved him away. I'd had enough of this guy. He could go find another mediator, for all I cared.
“Sorry,” the guy said, sounding quite sassy. He was obviously mocking me, which wouldn't bode well for him. “Man! Girls and their coffee,” he said, shaking his head.
“You can get out of my car and find another mediator if you don’t like my attitude,” I suggested.
He placed his hands in the air as if suggesting a peace offering. “Okay, I'm sorry. Let’s start over. My name is Lucas,” he said, extending a hand for me to shake. Once he said his name, his face registered with me. I recognized him from my AP English class last year. He had failed miserably, but because his dad owned one of Salem’s largest premiere car dealerships, he had sailed through with a D in the class. His name was Lucas James and he is–I mean was–the star player of Salem High’s Lacrosse Team. Not to mention that he'd been one of the boy toys of my arch nemesis, Melinda Carlisle, for a while.
I gave him a strange glance, and he quickly pulled his hand back. The thing is, ghosts and humans usually can’t touch each other. Well, they can’t shake hands and have actual physical contact. “Yeah, we can’t really shake hands, but, my name is Sadie,” I said.
“Well, Sadie, I think you can help me,” he said arrogantly.
“That’s what I do,” I said. “So, tell me: how did you die and why are you unable to move on? Sorry if I sound rushed, but I have school to attend.” I glanced at myself in the rear-view mirror. My auburn hair glowed virtually red in the sunlight. It was curled to perfection, and cascaded down my shoulders just the way I'd intended. I'd grown my hair out over the summer and wanted to show it off, but it looked as if I'd have to wait on that, too.
Lucas ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “I died in a car accident. I was drag racing with a group of college guys. We had a lot of money up for grabs. I guess I lost control as I was shifting gears and ended up wrapping my precious V-8, 2015 Mustang around a stupid tree.” He shook his head in mock anger.
“Okay, that sucks,” I said, not sure of what else to say.
“Yeah. I completely totaled my precious baby. That car was so sweet.” He looked as if the loss of his car was worse than the fact he'd died in the wreckage.
“So, do you want me to relay some message to your parents or something?” I asked, trying to hurry up the conversation.
“Yes. Can you just let them know I want my car keys and the Mustang emblem from my car placed in the casket with me? You know, in case I get to take something with me in the afterlife. I want to make sure I have the things that are most important to me.” He checked out my car again, his face twisting in disgust. “You know, you really should look into getting a better car. This one is fine for a girl’s car, but you would look really hot in a GT.”
Anger boiled deep inside my veins, and I felt the urge to punch this guy straight in his pretty boy face. He can have his Mustang any day; I'll keep my Eclipse. Sure, it didn't have the turbo or nifty gadgets, but it was cute, and could push the speed limits if needed.
I rolled my eyes again and checked my phone for the time. If I left at that moment, I could make it just in time for first hour AP English. “Okay, thanks for the tip. I'll make sure your message is relayed to your family and the funeral home. I'll write an anonymous letter on your behalf,” I said, eying the passenger's side door.
Lucas seemed to notice my antsy behavior and understood that I wanted him gone.
“Well, thanks,” he said, and he disappeared from my car. Man, what I wouldn’t give for the ability to just transport myself to a different place or realm. I could definitely get to school much faster with that power.
I checked my phone, which was ringing like crazy during my conversation with Lucas. When I looked at the screen, I wasn't surprised to see there were a million texts from my best friend, Lucy.
Lucy: Where are you?
Lucy: You were supposed to meet me at school 10 minutes ago.
Lucy: You need to answer your phone!
Lucy: I will not talk to you again if you do not get to school on time today!
Noah: Where are you? Lucy's mad…she's scaring me!
Lucy: Noah is annoying me. GET TO SCHOOL NOW!
I knew the moment he walked through the door he wouldn't leave unless I gave him my soul. His ice cold, blue eyes watched me intently, as he took note of our surroundings. His smug grin showed he had me right where he wanted me. He clenched his hands at his sides, proving himself a natural predator who'd found his prey. For a brief moment, my natural instincts to react took hold of me. Should I freeze and pray he didn’t spot me? Should I run and hope to get away before he could catch me? Or should I stay and fight, proving to him and myself that I was much stronger than he was?
Knowing I wouldn’t be able to get away, I gave in and decided to fight. Let’s face it, this wouldn’t be my first fight with a dead guy, so what would I have to lose? Standing in line at Coffee Times Coffee House, my favorite local coffee shop and now employer, I rolled my eyes and sighed as I realized my morning was about to take a turn for the worse. I glared daggers at the dead guy waiting impatiently by the exit as I took a step away from the counter, on which perched the precious coffee I so needed on this, the first day of my senior year of high school.
On most days, being a mediator to the dead was kind of a cool job. However, today my role was seriously interfering with my need for caffeine and to get to school on time–both equally important factors.
“Seriously?” I said, agitated as I brushed past him and walked straight to my cherry red Eclipse parked next to the curb, outside the coffee shop. The smell of sweet coffee lingered, even outside the small coffee shop, taunting me with its alluring fragrance.
Following close behind, the guy in the baby pink polo shirt with the collar turned up sauntered into my car. “I don’t know what you are so upset about,” he began as he inspected the inside of my car. “I'm the one dead here.” His cocky attitude and obvious annoyance with me were not helping the situation any.
I glanced over at him and rolled my eyes. I had heard that same line dozens of times. Sure, every dead teenager expected me to jump when they asked me to help, and with a perky smile plastered across my face, of course. Unfortunately for them, I was not perky but laced with more attitude than this kid could probably endure, especially since I'd missed my morning caffeine intake.
I noticed his eyes taking in my outfit, and by the almost disgusted look on his face, I could tell he didn't approve. One look and I could tell, Lucas preferred girls in cheerleader uniforms, or clothes that revealed way more than I was willing to share. He was the type of guy I had purposely avoided my entire high school career. Go figure, my senior year would be the time I had to deal with a guy like him. I glanced down at my dark skinny jeans, cuffed at the ankle, and my flowing, plum-purple t-shirt, and didn’t understand what was so wrong with my outfit.
He was really starting to make me mad, and he definitely didn’t want to mess with me when I was angry and without caffeine.
Death seems to follow seventeen year old Sadie Sanders everywhere she goes--literally. As a mediator to the dead, she must constantly face fighting demons and the occasional angry dead girl. In WICKED TRUTHS, the third instalment of the WICKED CRIES series, Sadie learns that some secrets are meant to stay dead, for the truth, once it has been uncovered, may be wickeder than she could have ever imagined.
Genre: YA, Contemporary, Paranormal, Clean Romance
Release Date: 1 Oct 16
Blog Tour Date: 1 – 8 Oct 16
Death seems to follow seventeen year old Sadie Sanders everywhere she goes–literally. As a mediator to the dead, she must constantly face fighting demons and the occasional angry dead girl.
After a dangerous and almost deadly first year in Salem, Sadie’s parents decided to send her away for the summer to visit her Aunt Morgan in the small town of Nicholasville, Kentucky. After uncovering a murder hidden for centuries, she embarked on a deadly mission to solve the crime while trying to enjoy her summer vacation.
Now back in Salem, Sadie has found another hidden secret in the wicked town. Secret underground tunnels are hidden under the streets of Salem, beckoning to those with wicked souls. When Sadie encounters a ghost named Laura roaming the streets of Salem, she and her friends Noah and Lucy must uncover the clues leading to Laura’s death, which is made even more complicated by the fact that Laura has no memory about her life or death. To make matters worse, Sadie must also track down the person who has been sending her threatening messages in an effort to stop her mission for justice.
In Wicked Truths, the third instalment of the Wicked Cries series, Sadie learns that some secrets are meant to stay dead, for the truth, once it has been uncovered, may be wickeder than she could have ever imagined.
Michelle Areaux is the author of the Wicked Cries series. Her love for literature began at an early age and flourished over the years into a passion. Currently, she resides in Nicholasville, KY with her husband Anthony, and sons Connor and Cooper.
Get your copy now at any of these links:
Also by Michelle Areaux – Coming Soon!
Wicked Cries – Book 1 of the Wicked Cries Series
For 16-year-old Sadie Sanders, dealing with the dead is growing tiresome, especially when they expect her to be their messenger from the afterlife. But when her family moves to Salem, Massachusetts, and she finds the diary of a young girl named Elizabeth who was accused of witchcraft, she may need some help. Soon, Elizabeth begins to haunt Sadie, first in her dreams and then when she’s awake. As Sadie delves into Elizabeth’s journal, she slowly uncovers the secret Elizabeth needs to reveal, and it’s one that could change the course of history. Sadie needs help, and she wonders whom, if anyone, she can tell about it. Worried that her friends and family wouldn’t believe her, or worse, prevent her from continuing her journey to find the truth, Sadie has a choice to make...and it’s not going to be an easy one.
Check out the excerpt in the next post!
Find You In Paris
By author: Alix Nichols
(Alix is an Amazon #1 Bestselling Author)
Genre: Chick Lit/Romantic Comedy
Release Date: July, 9th 2016
True spite. Fake marriage. Real romance.
If there’s one man that fledgling art photographer Diane Petit really, really, actively hates, it’s fragrance mogul Sebastian Darcy who stole her father’s company–and wrecked the man’s health in the process.
But the arrogant SOB had better brace himself because Diane has vowed revenge.
And revenge she will have.
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About the Author:
Alix Nichols is a caffeine addict and a longtime fan of Mr. Darcy, especially in his Colin Firth incarnation. She is a Kindle Scout and Dante Rossetti Award winning author of critically acclaimed romantic comedies.
At the age of six, she released her first rom com. It featured highly creative spelling on a dozen pages stitched together and bound in velvet paper.
Decades later, she still loves the romance genre. Her spelling has improved (somewhat), and her books have made Amazon bestseller lists, climbing as high as #1. She lives in France with her family and their almost-human dog.
Find her here:
Amazon author page
Check out the full tour:
Jenna Books - Book Review/Promo Post
Hello...Chick Lit - Book Excerpt/Promo Post
The Writing Garnet - Book Review/Guest Post
Judging More Than Just The Cover - Author Q&A
The Ultimate Fan Blog - Book Promo Post
Karan Eleni - Book Excerpt/Promo Post
Grass Monster - Book Review
Gabriela Cabezut - Book Review/Promo Post
He Said Books Or Me - Author Guest Post/Promo Post
Sweet Little Pretties - Book Excerpt/Promo Post
Sylv all about books and films - Book Excerpt
Book Lover in Florida - Book Review/Promo Post
One Book At A Time - Book Review/Promo Post
These Words: A Blog - Book Review/Promo Post
Liz Marid Author - Author Guest Post
I love gin, I think that’s obvious from all of my social media channels, oh and my
blog name…plus they feature heavily in all of my books.
However, I hear some of you aren’t necessarily a fan, you don’t get the appeal,
you think it’s a tad tart…sour even.
Now, I see what you’re saying, I really do. But it’s just a matter of how it’s been
served. You CAN get it wrong, so here are my top five tips to learning to love gin
– because to be honest – it’s the only way you can survive in this madcap world.
1. Find your gin.
If you’ve dismissed gin because you had a quick Gordons and scheweppes
at the pub, this is your problem. All gins have their own flavour, it’s worth
finding your own. I can’t tell you my favourite, but if you’re looking for
something smooth go for Aldi (I’m not kidding) Bombay, Plymouth or
Bloom. For a stronger flavour Hendricks, Opihir, or Adams Copper House.
2. Pick your mixer.
It doesn’t always have to be tonic. I’d fully recommend if you find it sour,
get rid of full fat tonic all together. THAT’s what makes I it sour. Instead,
opt for slimline tonic. Alternatively, bitter lemon, ginger ale or apple juice
also make amazing mixers.
3. Make sure your mixer is fizzy.
Flat tonic is grim…in fact, all drinks that are meant to be fizzy, but have
turned flat are. Except coke – flat coke is surprisingly good for a hangover.
But that’s beside the point. If you’re not drinking G&T regularly it’s worth
splashing out on the serving sized bottles and tins so that you never have
the disappointment or grossness of a flat first sip.
4. NEVER use lemon.
It’s just NOT WORTH IT. At the most bog standard use a slice of lime. If
you’re not into citrus there is a world of options. My current favourite is a
couple of big fat strawberries. Although, mixed berries (blueberries and
raspberries) are nice. Apple is amazebogs, and if you’re feeling really
healthy cucumber is just the bees knees – especially if you have it with
ginger ale – go on, try it.
5. Ice Ice Baby.
Just like a flat mixer, no ice makes the drink defunct. I like to keep
reusable ice-cubes in the freezer so that I never run out!
Get your copy of the relaunched The Perfect Disaster Series by Aimee. Check out Aimee on her blog " Aimee Horton- Writes Words- Drinks Gin" Just to top things off, here's a little playlist while your as Snoop Dogg would say "sipping on gin and juice, laid back".
Cheers by Rihanna
Bottoms Up by Brantley Gilbert
My Cup by Richie Loops
Gin and Juice by Snoop Dog and Dr. Dre
Cheers to you Aimee!
I've dreamed of being a writer for as long as I can remember. In high school creative writing class, I turned in a short story that my teacher basically dubbed the first chapter of a novel. (Shout out to Mr. McLean, wherever you are... I eventually turned that idea into my first novel like fifteen years later.) But somewhere along the line, I started to doubt myself. There's no way I could go into writing as a career. How the heck would I ever make it work? I needed to do something safe, practical. So I went into teaching.
I had talked on and off about possibly going to school to teach English or writing, probably because I had quite a few great teachers in the English department at my high school. After switching majors from English to Writing to Communications and then to Education, it was settled. I was enjoying my education classes, I loved what I was learning, and I liked working with kids. The dream of writing never died - I could always teach writing or work on a book in my spare time - but it definitely got put on hold for awhile.
My first teaching job was a self-contained 6th, 7th, and 8th grade class at a Florida middle school. After a year of teaching kids that were as big as (bigger than!) me, I thought maybe I wanted to work with little kids instead. Then after a year of teaching first grade, I thought maybe I wanted to work with kids a little older. I found my teaching groove in fourth grade, and taught fourth grade for eight years. I taught in a low SES school and, although I had my fair share of struggles, I really enjoyed it. It was at times disheartening to reach out and never meet a student's family, or to sometimes feel like I was the only adult in a kid's life that paid attention to them. And it was always difficult to find that balance between teaching the curriculum and using the textbooks that I was being told to teach,while wanting to do the types of activities I'd prepared and practiced with in college. And the testing... Everything revolved around test scores.
In 2012, I moved to Virginia to teach 5th grade at a middle school in a small district outside of Washington, D.C. I was shocked to learn that I would have way more freedom to teach how I wanted, as long as I was teaching the curriculum. I was amazed at the wealth of resources we had. I felt like, for the first time in ten years, I was actually getting to teach. I was praised for thinking outside the box and coming up with new activities. I could share my ideas with colleagues and not worry about whether or not the administration would be disappointed that I wasn't using a textbook program with fidelity. It was like a breath of fresh air for my teaching career!
Of course, after a few years, when things settle down, you realize that the grass isn't always greener, especially in any school system. There's still high stakes testing. There's still curriculum that needs to be taught and guidelines to adhere to. And meetings to go to and papers to grade. And as a teacher, you never feel like you have enough time to get it all done, and done well. That's probably what I found the hardest about teaching. If I'm going to do a job, I want to do it right, and I want to do it well. Sometimes I feel like teachers are so stripped of their tools and creativity that they're almost set up to fail... But that's a whole other blog post.
This whole time, I was still writing away. For years, writing became a respite during my 9-year long first marriage (which was stagnant and miserable) and divorce (which was stressful but liberating!)
Writing was a source of inspiration for my students, who thought it was cool that I wanted to write a book some day. I would turn National Novel Writing Month into an ongoing math lesson. (If I have 32,064 words to write, and two weeks to do it in, how many words do I need to write each day?) Later, students always thought it was amazing to hear that I'd actually written a book (or more than one book) even though I told them they weren’t books for kids, but maybe something their moms might like to read.
And, after giving birth to my son last year, my writing habit helped me get back on track and remember myself. I took a year off from teaching to stay at home with my son. As a new mom, I was completely and blissfully immersed in our family and our days together. I would happily lay immobilized on the couch with my son on my chest for two hours while he napped, even though nothing else got done around the house. And then I started to get the itch to write again. Once I started writing, I went crazy. I finished my book. I started blogging and freelancing. And I was so happy. (And so tired... but so happy.) My husband suggested that if I didn't want to go back to teaching, I didn't have to. I could stay home and write.
But all I’d ever done was teach. I had always had someone to tell me what I had to do, and when I needed to do it by, and basically, how to do it. If I was going to write for a living, it was all going to be up to me.
The thought terrifies me. But I’m doing it anyway.
What’s that saying? “Don’t let the fear of falling keep you from flying.”
My new journey is just beginning. Wish me luck.
It started with a Frosted Cowboy and it ended with one. All the rest in between was pretty good. I liked this one. I felt with this book. I laughed, I got angry and I was happy. This story somewhat hit a little close to home for me. The difference is the age. Like Laney, I had a talent laying dormant and needed something to happen to pursue it. Laney was a woman who was done wrong and in the end, I was glad it happened. It gave her the push she needed to realize her dreams. It helped her find the woman she needed to be. The development was quite entertaining. She was a straight-laced, boring and 'playing-it-safe' kind of woman. She relied on others to add value to her life. Frankly speaking, her sleazy fiance, didn't deserve her. In fact, it was good for her to walk away and follow her dreams. Kyle wasn't the man to get her there. He was just a cheater.
Laney was the type of woman who was unsure of herself and gave others the benefit of the doubt, a little too much. Until she had that first Frosted Cowboy. After that first taste, Laney was on her way to being a different woman. She even met a hot guy a few years her junior and slept with him following day. Her confidence and embracing herself was an honest transition that I enjoyed watching.
The people around her was an interesting mix. There were those who truly loved and supported her like her mother and father and her friend Kim. Then there were others I just wanted to punch in the face; Angel, Jake and Jessica to be specific. I was greatly satisfied when Jake actually got punched. Angel and Jessica needed to be slapped with some sense. One was a self -centered, undercover mean girl and the other was just crazy.
Her what she wanted and was proud of what she was good at. Get it girl! *that was me cheering Laney on, while reading* She had a few bumps but she pressed on.A lesson to us all with dreams. Get that drive like Laney!
The romance that blossomed between Laney and Tom was something that felt right. It never felt the same with the boring fireman who couldn't handle a little fiesty. So, when Laney who was hurt before jumped to conclusions at the first sign of trouble, I could understand. But I think she should have given a chance to explain and prove himself trustworthy. I think if there were to a part two or even a novella with an update, I would read it and i know Laney and Tom would have patched things up.
I give this one by Charlene Ross 4 stars. I even like that she included the ingredients to make a Frosted Cowboy. I'm going to try it. So should you. Enjoy!
In honour of this past weekend's book tour for Stephen Leather's New York Night, I will be giving away a copy of the featured novel courtesy of BookBear.
Here's how you enter: