[157] [BLITZ, EXCERPT + GIVEAWAY] Come Back to Me

Come Back to Me by Coleen Patrick

Publication date: March, 2013

Genre: YA Contemporary

Whitney Denison can’t wait to start over.

She thought she had everything under control, that her future would always include her best friend Katie… Until everything changed.

Now her life in Bloom is one big morning after hangover, filled with regret, grief, and tiny pinpricks of reminders that she was once happy. A happy she ruined. A happy she can’t fix.

So, she is counting down the days until she leaves home for Colson University, cramming her summer with busywork she didn’t finish her senior year, and taking on new hobbies that involve glue and glitter, and dodging anyone who reminds her of her old life.

When she runs into the stranger who drove her home on graduation night, after she’d passed out next to a ditch, she feels herself sinking again. The key to surviving the summer in Bloom is unraveling whatever good memories she can from that night.

But in searching for answers, she’ll have to ask for help and that means turning to Evan, the stranger, and Kyle, Katie’s ex-boyfriend. Suddenly, life flips again, and Whitney finds herself on not only the precipice of happy but love, too, causing her to question whether she can trust her feelings, or if she is falling into her old patterns of extremes.

As she uncovers the truth about her memories, Whitney sees that life isn’t all or nothing, and that happy isn’t something to wait for, that instead, happy might just be a choice.

GOODREADS / AMAZON / B&N 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Coleen Patrick grew up in New Jersey, Virginia, Michigan, Louisiana, and Indiana. Always being the new kid, she learned that books and friends are precious—and dessert. She never met a dessert she didn’t like (except for flan).

When she’s not writing, reading (or avoiding flan), she enjoys TV, arts and crafts, quoting movies, and trying to take cool photos.

She lives in Virginia with her husband and two kids.

Author Links:

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

EXCERPT

From Chapter 6

55 days.

What if Colson isn’t the answer?

I ignored the thought and continued to face the liquor cabinet, the bottles shifting into pairs as my vision glazed over.

A tiny frisson of cold moved from my heel and up my spine to prickle at my scalp.  I pictured my newly short hair standing on end, like hundreds of tiny spikes framing a carrot-orange cartoon sun.

I froze, avoiding my reflection in the mirror-backed wall of the cabinet.  The tingling returned. Was someone behind me?

I dropped my head.  My heart pounded under my chin.  My bangs curtained my face, but I took in my shoes, the floor, the craft store bag, fur . . . wait, fur?

I turned around and sighed.  “Bug.”

She stared at me, still, as if she too saw a ghost.  Her fur stood up in tufts and shocks around her head, but that was just Bug.  Imperfect breed, imperfect hair.  Not that Bug knew that.  According to her, she was a purebred.  She didn’t seem to know that the pretty auburn and dark brown coat around her head faded to an almost dirty white on her back and legs, or that her slim build didn’t match her squashed up face, or that she had a funny name, or that she was the result of a full pedigree/mutt hook up.  She’d never believe any of it.

I shook my head, pushing my fingertips into my eyebrows.

“What are you doing, Bug?” My mom wasn’t home. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her without my mom.

Bug walked to the craft bag and sniffed.  She sat down in front of it.

“There’s nothing for you in there.”  I picked up the bag and headed for the stairs.  Bug’s tiny but imperious steps followed.

I turned around.  “Do you need to go outside?”

If a dog could roll her eyes, she would’ve.  I swore she looked insulted, as if she didn’t have a paper-lined crate in the laundry room.

“Are you hungry?”

Bug ignored me, pushing her nose into my bag.  She wouldn’t come to me for food anyway.  My mom’s culinary skills were what turned her from my shelter rescue into my mom’s sidekick.  Whatever.  Glitter was the only thing on my agenda right now.

The air conditioning turned on, and I jumped, catching my reflection in the mirror again. I frowned and moved to close the liquor cabinet doors.

A crazy but funny idea popped into my head—me covering all the bottles with glue and glitter.  I looked at Bug.  As if she could read my mind, she cocked her head.  “I’m just saying it would be hilarious to see their reaction.”

I imagined my dad pouring himself a drink out of a sparkly, fuchsia Jameson bottle—right into a matching bejeweled highball glass.  Except the enjoyment would only last for a split second, just like the first hit of alcohol.  Yes, I wanted that initial sense of relief, the momentary lapse in emptiness.

Until tomorrow, when I’d have to start all over again.

I swallowed.  Glitter.  I shifted all my focus to glitter.

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[154] [RELEASE DAY + GIVEAWAY] Never Let You Fall

     

A special Excerpt just for you...

“What do you feel?  Anything strange?” 

She flung her hands up in the air as she answered me. “Yes, I feel something strange!  This whole thing is strange!” 

Placing my finger on her lips, I shook my head in frustration.  “Skye, what do you feel here?” I asked again, pointing to her chest.  “How do you feel?” 

She stood for a moment with her lips lightly pressed to my finger, slowly closing and reopening her eyes.  There was a sheen to them that spoke of unshed tears, and as she raised her hand to pull mine away from her mouth, I saw her fingers tremble when  she whispered, “I can’t deal with this, Xander.” 

“Yes, Skye - you can and you will,” I warned her.  “This is going to happen whether you want it to or not.  I told you that I’m safe, and I…” 

Skye broke into hysterical laughter at that.  “Safe?  You’re telling me that a legion of demons is after me and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.   How in your book does that equal safe?”

“You don’t know me, Skye, and you don’t know Rioden and… what we can do.  I told you that I would protect you, and I will.” 

Shaking her head, she took a small step back and admitted, “You’re right about one thing, Xander,” as she wiped a tear from her face.  “I don’t know you, so how can I trust you?  No matter how you make me feel.  Please just leave me alone.”  She spun on her heel and sprinted away, leaving me to stare after her.

About the Author

 Having grown up in both the cold, quiet town of Topsham, Maine and the steamy, southern hospitality of Mobile, Alabama, Michele is something of a enigma.  She is an avid Yankees fan, loves New England, being outdoors and misses snow.  However she thinks southern boys are hotter, Alabama football is the only REAL football out there and sweet tea is the best thing this side of heaven and her children’s laughter! 

Her family, a doting husband and three awesome  minions  have planted their roots in the middle of Michele’s two childhood homes in Charlotte, North Carolina. 

Never Let You Fall is Michele’s first novel and she is beyond thrilled to have finally followed up on a dream she has held for over 20 years!  God willing there will be many many more books to follow.

Blog:  http://michelegmiller.blogspot.com

Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6975382.Michele_G_Miller

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMicheleGMiller

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/chelemybelles

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[151] Stages of Grace by Carey Heywood REVIEW, EXCERPT, GIVEAWAY

Stages of Graceby Carey Heywood 

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance... 

When facing death a mourning period is to be expected. But what if it's not a person but a relationship that dies? Grace and her boyfriend Jon have been together for three years. They live together and have shared many beautiful memories. Those memories are what keep Grace from admitting Jon has changed and is no longer the man she fell in love with.

Afraid of being alone and holding on to something that no longer exists Grace is a shadow of her former self. Her daily objective is to hide her pain from the world. Then, an unexpected letter sets off a whirlwind of potential life changes. In life sometimes the hardest thing to do is let go.

 MY REVIEW

5/5

Stages of grace catched my eye with a beautiful cover. It gives me kind of calm feeling and I felt it while reading the book, in spite of all the emotions that were going through me. It was the weirdest feeling ever.

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance are stages after loss of someone important. Grace is going though them, but she's missing feelings she had rather than a person. She's ending a long-time relationship that was happy at the beginning but then got toxic.

I didn't only like Grace. I felt her. I felt like going through all of the stages with her, sharing all of the emotions. She and her psychology are pictured perfectly, but the rest of characters sometimes felt... Flat.

There are no big surprises in Stages of grace, no big plot twists, but a lot of emotions. I would recommend it to every contemporary-lover, even one like me - who doesn't enjoy romances really. This one is different.

I think a lot of people, me too, can relate to what Grace has gone through.
And everyone likes to read about things that happened to them too.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Carey Heywood lives in Richmond Va with her husband, three children and nine pound attack Yorkie. Unabashedly silly, she spends her free time bonding with candy loving strangers on Twitter. Right now she is probably eating Swedish fish.

Links: 

http://www.facebook.com/CareyHeywoodAuthor

@careylolo (not a link but I tweet so...)

EXCERPT

Once we are back at Kate's house, she takes a nap while I return the car to Ryan's garage. Ryan is pulling into his driveway as I'm letting myself out of his house.

"We took Kate's car out," I explain, feeling my face get hot.

"Sorry, my place is a mess."

"What? It seemed clean, but I only saw the front room and the kitchen."

"No peeking at my boxers?"

"No, not that I would admit it if I had" I joke.

He rubs his chin and smiles "I will now assume you did."

"Don’t!"

"But it's more fun that way. So what do you ladies have planned for lunch?"

"Kate's resting right now. I was just going to make myself a sandwich. Want one?"

Ryan follows me back to Kate's house and keeps me company in the kitchen while I make our lunch. He rambles on about his day. I like the sound of his chatter. We take our plates out by the pool. I'm really going to miss the weather. I'll not be outside like this until well into spring back home. Ryan pours us some lemonade and asks me how I like Kate's car. I tell him it’s longer than any car I've ever driven so other than being nervous when I was parking I think it is a great car. Ryan loves that car, telling me how he would put the top down and drive Kate around town. It makes me wonder why Ryan seems content to spend his time with Kate instead of people closer to his own age.

I have been so distracted I miss what he asks me. "Sorry?"

"Want to go out with me tonight?"

"I don’t know. What about Kate?"

"No worries. I cleared this with the boss lady last night."

"I guess."

"You don’t have to if you don’t want to."

"No. I didn’t' mean—what I meant to say was you don’t have to."

"I know I don’t have to, Grace. I'm asking you because I'd like to."

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[138] GOING UNDER by S. Walden - excerpt

Going Under

by S. Walden

New Adult 

Date to be Published: March 19, 2013

Synopsis:

Brooke Wright has only two goals her senior year at Charity Run High School: stay out of trouble and learn to forgive herself for the past. Forgiveness proves elusive, and trouble finds her anyway when she discovers a secret club at school connected to the death of her best friend. She learns that swim team members participate in a “Fantasy Slut League,” scoring points for their sexual acts with unsuspecting girls.
Brooke, wracked with guilt over her friend’s death, decides to infiltrate the league by becoming one of the “unsuspecting girls,” and exact revenge on the boys who stole away her best friend. An unexpected romance complicates her plans, and her dogged pursuit of justice turns her reckless as she underestimates just how far the boys will go to keep their sex club a secret. (This is a New Adult fiction book with mature themes.  It contains explicit language and descriptions of sexual violence.)

99 CENTS TODAY!

Amazon Smashwords: Createspace (paperback)

S. Walden

S. Walden used to teach English before making the best decision of her life by becoming afull-time writer. She lives in Georgia with her very supportive husband who prefers physicstextbooks over fiction and has a difficult time understanding why her characters must havepersonality flaws. She is wary of small children, so she has a Westie instead. Her dreamsinclude raising chickens and owning and operating a beachside inn on the Gulf Coast (chickensincluded). When she's not writing, she's thinking about it.
She loves her fans and loves to hear from them. Email her at swaldenauthor@hotmail.com andfollow her blog at http://swaldenauthor.blogspot.com where you can get up-to-date informationon her current projects.

Blog: http://swaldenauthor.blogspot.com

email: swaldenauthor@hotmail.com

twitter: swaldenauthor

Facebook:  www.facebook.com/swaldenauthor

EXCERPT

I left the bathroom in a hurry, turning the corner for the foyer and slamming into him. The force of the hit was so great that I stumbled backwards, nearly falling on my bottom if not for his outstretched hand. I grabbed it before going down and wobbled on my too-high heels, clutching him as I worked to regain my balance. “God, I’m sorry!” he exclaimed. I looked at his face then, unprepared to see something so beautiful. I think I gasped. And then I averted my eyes out of sheer embarrassment. “I really should watch where I’m going,” he said. He still held my hand, and I let him. I couldn’t remember who I was or where I was going. I couldn’t remember where I had just been. I only knew that a very cute boy . . . no, he was more than cute. He was gorgeous. This very gorgeous boy was holding my hand, and I had only one thought. I wanted to make our handholding more intimate. I wanted to lace my fingers with his. “I think I should,” I mumbled. I chanced another look at him. I made a conscientious effort not to gasp as I took in his light blue eyes. I’d never seen eyes that color. Jared Leto had nothing on this guy’s eyes, and Jared’s eyes were the color of the Mediterranean. No, the eyes I looked into now were so light blue they looked translucent. I thought if I stared a little longer I could see right inside his head, to his brain, and I don’t know why that turned me on so much. I wanted to witness the workings of his mind, the firing synapses, information traveling safely inside neurons to different parts of his body. A few made it to his hand, and they must have told him to keep holding mine because he didn’t let go. I stared shamelessly, licking my lips at one point. He stared back just as boldly. I wanted him to like what he saw. I wanted him to think I was sexy. I wanted him to feel the same instant attraction I did. I’d never felt it before. Not really. Not even with Finn. It was unsettling, and I wondered how people functioned after being smacked upside the head with it. Instant. Physical. Chemical. Primal. Just rip my clothes off, I thought. Just rip my clothes off and do me right here in the hallway! He smiled and released my hand. I thought he did it reluctantly, like his brain ordered him to and he finally acquiesced. I smiled back, a flirty grin. I pulled my ponytail forward over my shoulder and played with the strands. I bit my lower lip. And then reality came crashing down like a hailstorm, large lumps of ice banging my head and screaming at me in unison. “YOU’RE AT A FUNERAL!” I looked at the gorgeous guy, and my face went white. “Oh my God,” I whispered. He stared at me for a moment before saying, “Are you okay?” I shook my head and started towards the sanctuary doors. He followed behind. “I’m awful, I’m awful, I’m awful,” I whispered over and over. I didn’t care if he could hear. What the hell was I doing? Trying to flirt with a guy at my best friend’s funeral? How could I even forget for a second that I was at a funeral? I was supposed to be carrying around heavy, black sorrow to match my black dress and black heart, not batting lashes and fantasizing about sex with a stranger. Was I so ridiculous that a hot guy could make me forget to have any kind of decency? Or shame? I rounded the corner and saw my mother waiting for me. And then I ran to her, threw myself into her arms, and burst into a fit of tears. “Brooklyn,” she whispered, holding me in a tight hug. “It’s okay,” she cooed as she stroked my hair. “I’m a terrible friend!” I wailed. I saw the fuzzy outline of a boy walking past us tentatively through the doors. “No, you aren’t,” my mother replied. “Yes, I am! I don’t even know why I’m here! Beth hated my guts! She wouldn’t talk to me all summer!” “Brooke,” Mom said. “I want you to calm down. Now, we talked about this. You knew it would be hard, but she was your best friend for all those years. Do you think she wouldn’t have wanted you here?” “No, I don’t!” I cried. “Yes, she would,” Mom said. “Now we have to go in.” “I can’t!” “Brooke, Beth was your best friend,” Mom said, trying for patience. “No she wasn’t! Not after what I did! I ruined everything! I’m a freaking slut!” I sobbed, shaking my head from side to side. “Sweetheart, don’t say words like ‘freaking’ and ‘slut’ in a church,” Mom replied. I only sobbed louder. “You can do this,” Mom encouraged. I stood my ground, shaking my head violently, refusing to go in. “Brooklyn Wright!” Mom hissed, pushing me away and grabbing my upper arm. She squeezed too tightly, and I squeaked in discomfort. There was no more tenderness in her voice. “Get yourself together. This isn’t about you. So stop making it about you. You’re going into that sanctuary and you’re going to pay your respects to your friend, and you’re going to make it about Beth. Do you understand me?” I swallowed hard and wiped my face. “Do you understand me?” Mom repeated. I nodded grudgingly, and she took my hand, leading me through the doors.

[134] Russian Dolls EXCERPT

Russian Dolls

By Cristelle Comby

New Adult - Mystery&Detective

Date Published:3/13/2013

Alexandra Neve is a student at University College London whose world suddenly falls apart. When her best friend jumps from the university’s rooftop, she can’t stop herself from asking, ‘Why?’ The police rule her friend’s death a suicide and for them the case is closed — so whom can she turn to for help?
Sometimes the person you need the most is the one you least expect to find, and in this case it’s none other than Ashford Egan, a blind middle-aged history professor, who’s more willing than most to listen to what she has to say. 
Neve and Egan are as different as they come. She’s restless, careless at times, and fearless when the need arises, while he’s almost the complete opposite: a deep thinker with an analytical mind, a highly rational and collected individual.
As they enter the violent world of the Russian mafia, they must overcome their differences and learn to work together. It’s their only chance if they want to survive.

EXCERPT

I don’t find much more information on Anthony Anderson and eventually stop researching for lack of interesting leads. I spend Monday morning tailing him, instead. I leave the flat at the crack of dawn in my mother’s old blue Fiat Punto and drive all the way up to the Andersons’, my camera on the passenger seat.

I park a little farther up the road, turn off the engine and check the camera. Mr Anderson’s dark Mercedes passes me, at six thirty. I snap two pictures, before turning on the ignition and following him at a reasonable distance.

He goes straight to work and disappears in an underground car park that requires an ID card.

I open the car door and move to the boot. I reach down for one of my short winter duffle jackets and a black cap. I shrug both on and then grab a small parcel, before closing the boot and walking to the Credit Suisse building.

I force myself to walk in as casually as I can, and approach the reception with a look I hope is confident.

‘Morning,’ I say to the young man at the desk. ‘Urgent delivery for Anthony Anderson.’

The young lad narrows his eyes on the parcel and then looks me up and down. I square my jaw. Time to see whether my plan’s going to work.

I pinned a badge on my chest. I made it up on my laptop, with a fake logistic company name and logo, and my name and picture. The cap on my head bears the same logo. It’s actually one of my old white caps that I craftily hand-painted last night.

‘Sure,’ the man says with an easy smile. ‘Leave it here; I’ll see that it’s delivered with the morning mail.’

‘Sorry, but it’s hand delivery only.’ I shrug apologetically.

‘Fine.’ The man motions to one of the men minding the elevator. ‘He’ll escort you.’

That’s not what I had planned. I smile nonetheless and follow the bulky man through the lobby.

The elevator doors close after us and I stand immobile in a corner. Porca vacca, Lexa! Why didn’t you think it through? I’ve been too hasty again. How could I think that they would just let me wander the hallways on my own? My cover will be blown if Anderson catches sight of me, and there I am, being escorted straight to him. Way to go, Lexa!

My escort takes me to an office and we stop in front of a secretary.

‘Parcel for Mr Anderson,’ I tell her, fighting hard to prevent my voice from quivering.

He has to be here, just behind the large wooden doors that bear his name. She’s going to call him and he’ll come right out and see me and then it’ll be goodnight Vienna!

Cristelle Comby

Author Bio:

Cristelle Comby was born and raised in the French-speaking area of Switzerland, somewhere between Geneva and Lausanne, where she still resides.Thanks to her insatiable thirst for American and British action films and television dramas, her English is fluent.She attributes to her origins her ever-peaceful nature and her undying love for chocolate. She has a passion for art, which also includes an interest in drawing and acting.Russian Dolls is her first new-adult novel, and she’s hard at work on the next titles in the series.

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[131] The Faith McKenzie Story by Erin Cawood: To Outline or Not to Outline? That is the Question

For anyone in a relationship, the words ‘we need to talk’ can only mean one thing. In the last twenty-two years, the McKenzies have been through it, survived it, learned by it, and grown stronger from it, because life didn’t stop for breath when they needed it. Amongst the tears and the tragedies, the hopes and happiness, they’ve built something amazing: a happy family, a luxury lifestyle and a booming empire. Don’t they deserve to have it all?

But for the perfect wife, those four sinister words mean something entirely different. They’re a summons into a private world where what happens behind closed doors stays behind closed doors.

Faith has no doubt in Calvin’s undying love for her. It’s what kept her sane in the darkest hours. If only she could figure out what it is she does wrong… because it’s rapidly becoming apparent their tainted love is running out of time.

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

1 in 4 woman will be affected by domestic abuse. 50% of the royalties from sales of this series will be donated to charities supporting those affected by abusive relationships.

Buy Now @ Amazon & Amazon UK

Genre – Women’s Fiction / Contemporary Romance

Rating – PG13

More details about the author

Connect with Erin Cawood on Facebook & Twitter & GoodReads

EXCERPT:

EXCERPT: 

You have to promise me something…

Promise me you won’t tell a soul what you are about to read? Unless something happens to me, no one needs to know.

My babies, Georgia and Caleb, only need to know what I have told them. I am unhappy. I have been unhappy for a long time. And therefore, I have gone away to heal my heart, my mind, and my spirit. They’ll understand, for me, their younger sisters are part of the healing process, and this is why I have taken the girls with me. I have promised to return, and I will. Somehow I’ll find another way into Georgia and Caleb’s lives. But… I’ll never go back.

I tell myself every day I should be thankful for what I have. Despite my sad situation I have you, my amazing younger brother. You’ve flourished into an all-state star quarterback and earned a scholarship to one of the best medical schools in the country. I have three wonderful daughters who still see fairy tales and dreams, and know how to reach for the sky. The eldest has high grades and a warm heart for children in need. She’s taken herself down the path to follow Daddy into the family profession. The younger ones are a delight. Barely walking, already they have flair for drama, song, and dance. I see stars in their eyes and fame on their horizons.

And my son is… well, he’s frustrating. He can whip a top grade out of the bag without studying. But his priorities lay elsewhere for so many years. Then, one day he came home with college applications, a volunteering job in the community, and a path he’d chosen on his own. I’m not quite sure when it happened, but it was some divine intervention for which I’ll be forever indebted.

We own a five bedroom house in the Hamptons, with vast gardens where I spend my days tending to roses and uprooting weeds. If I’m not in my gardens, I partake in coffee mornings, which entail little coffee and lots of shopping. I no longer try anything on in the store; I donate it to charity if it doesn’t fit. I have lunch at the tennis club where I no longer play tennis; an injury took me out of the game some years ago.

My husband and I have a regular sitter and spend many evenings at the social clubs of which we’re members. We dine on lavish food, drink the finest wines, and dance past the stroke of midnight. I drive a swift little roadster, top down, through summer, and a tough terrain SUV in the winter. I have a lot to be thankful for… including twenty-two years of marriage.

Oh, how I wish I could tell you this was some mid-life crisis! That with my oldest children flying the nest, I felt my life half-empty. I’m sure if you ask Calvin, it’s how he’ll explain our sudden departure from his life. But it’s quite the opposite, in fact.

I know it’s been years since we last spoke, and how angry you were when you left. But there are things I need you to know, little brother, and these things I kept hidden from you all.

To Outline or Not to Outline? That is the Question

by Erin Cawood

The practice of Outlining in creative writing strikes me as a contradiction. You’re putting formality and structure around a process which should be free and open to flow at will. You’re making it enclosing it, purposefully making it rigid.

But then I look back over the four years it took to write my first novel. I didn’t outline it. I just let my characters run around all higgledy-piggledy for at least a gazillion words until they’d decided what they wanted to do. Then there was a lot of restructuring and it became a novel. It was still twice the size of a normal contemporary romance novel that became two, then three books in a series that has the potential to infinitely grow.

And then… I look at National Novel Writing Month 2009 and the strictest outlining I have created before starting a new project. I mean serious army sergeant strict. And I remember how much Ireally hated writing that novel. Sure I wrote 50K in 23 days. But was it fun? Nu-huh! And the reason I write first and foremost is because I get a great deal of pleasure from it.

So let’s talk about something much more enjoyable; my published debut Tainted Love. It’s actually the sixth novel I’ve written and it took only two weeks to write. The difference between Tainted Love and the four year aimless marathon is that I had a good idea of where my character was going. Unknowingly, Faith is caught in progressively abusive marriage and over the course of twenty plus years the relationship succumbs to her husband’s rage and unpredictable violence. Faith expresses her deepest and most personal thoughts in letters she sends to her brother. I knew when I set out with a rough outline the couple had two children, that Calvin’s abuse was slow and would progress from verbal to physical to sexual and eventually near fatal and Faith would have to leave him. I knew she’d spend years trying to evade him until she finally rebuilt her sense of self worth to face him again.

I used to see outlining as an unnecessary evil, and it never really helped me at all. I remember feeling restricted and claustrophobic because I had a plan, a road map and I had to stick to it. But the wonderful thing about plans is they change. Well, why shouldn’t they? It’s part of the creative process. Your characters grow and develop over the course of their journey. They might develop faster or slower than you expected them to, or given a certain situation they might not act the way you expected them to. They might decide they want more than two children, or the evil one might actually have a reason for acting the way they do after all, or they might just want to break your heart.

In my opinion, one of the best things about being an author is there are no right or wrong answers. The debate about outlining will remain forevermore but the way I see it, outlining is like taking a fly-drive holiday using a Sat-Nav. It knows which rental office you’re picking the car up from and it knows where you’re supposed to be dropping it off, and it knows all the scheduled stops you want to make along the way. But who cares if you missed the last turning and got lost? Go and explore! Find out something new and exciting about your characters. Throw them into situations they might not have ended up in if you’d stuck to the itinerary! One of the most commented on plot twists in Tainted Love is ‘I didn’t expect Calvin… (To give you the rest would be to spoil it)’ and my response is ‘No, neither did I’.

Buy Now @ Amazon & Amazon UK

Genre – Women’s Fiction / Contemporary Romance

Rating – PG13

More details about the author & the book

Connect with Erin Cawood on Facebook & Twitter & GoodReads