Cee Smith's Blog, page 3
September 1, 2015
Coming up next, Sale, & other random shit
First things first:
In honor of Stolen & Fractured's 9/14 release, I have put Stolen Donor on sale. It is now $0.99 for a limited time or FREE with KU!
http://amzn.com/B00V3X97LG
Up next:
Stolen & Fractured releases 9/14! That's just 2 weeks away! (side note: This is also me and the hubby's anniversary month so September is pretty special to me.)
There won't be a preorder this time around, but I will post as soon as the link goes live.
Random Shit:
I am working on a mini-series that should come out sometime this winter. I'll have a more finalized date once I have the covers, etc. Also, a preview of it will be in Stolen & Fractured (just another reason to pick up Stolen & Fractured when it comes out). More details will be added on GR after SD2's release. What I can say now is it's not dark in the least.
In honor of Stolen & Fractured's 9/14 release, I have put Stolen Donor on sale. It is now $0.99 for a limited time or FREE with KU!
http://amzn.com/B00V3X97LG
Up next:
Stolen & Fractured releases 9/14! That's just 2 weeks away! (side note: This is also me and the hubby's anniversary month so September is pretty special to me.)
There won't be a preorder this time around, but I will post as soon as the link goes live.
Random Shit:
I am working on a mini-series that should come out sometime this winter. I'll have a more finalized date once I have the covers, etc. Also, a preview of it will be in Stolen & Fractured (just another reason to pick up Stolen & Fractured when it comes out). More details will be added on GR after SD2's release. What I can say now is it's not dark in the least.
August 25, 2015
August 18, 2015
Teaser Tuesday
Hey guys,
Yesterday was the cover reveal for Stolen & Fractured and I believe a few blogs posted an excerpt, which I wanted to add here in case you missed it.
Just a little bit of information about this scene (Director's Cut): It was probably one of the most emotionally complex scenes I've written and took the most editing, which I ended up dubbing as "The Forest Scene." I struggled a lot with whose POV I wanted to tell the scene from, but ultimately decided to stick with Hailey's Because it's happening to her the emotion was a lot more visceral than it would have been coming from Dominic.
“Wait! Dominic! Where are you going? You can’t leave me here!” I yelled to his back, but it was like shouting at a wall. Dominic was absorbed by the night as he walked farther and farther, without so much as a backwards glance to remind him of what he left behind. He just left me there while I continued shouting my outrage at his back.
“Don’t leave me! You can’t leave me here,” I continued mumbling incoherently through the shower of tears that drenched me in all of the anger and hurt. Dominic abandoned me. On purpose. He said he would never leave me and he left. I never even thought it was a possibility, but he did it. He proved that I couldn’t trust him. That every niggling doubt, every sheltered secret I knew he carried, all of it—it wasn’t a figment of my imagination. It wasn’t “Dominic’s way.” It was a part of Dominic. It wasn’t a choice he made, but as inherent as those devastating brown eyes and lickable lips. This was Dominic’s character flaw, among many.
I didn’t know how long he left me there—five, ten, fifteen minutes. It didn’t matter. Whatever the reason didn’t matter either, whether he could see it or not, something was breaking between us.
The ropes slid down the tree as my knees gave out. Dangling between those trees I cried for the girl I was, for the girl I’d lost to him, but more for the girl who couldn’t bridge this chasm with all the wood in the world. My face felt puffy and limp, and my body filled with a cold chill that had little to do with being naked in the middle of the forest. The air was balmy with a slight breeze—a perfect night to watch the flicker of new and old stars, to wish on comets bursting across the sky, and contemplate our insignificance in the universe.
Well I had the insignificance bit down.
The sound of crumpling leaves alerted me that I was no longer alone. I looked up to see all six foot two of him, his shirt now gone, showing clean lines of muscles rippling his arms and stomach, despite the inverted “Y” down the center of his upper chest and stomach. Dominic’s body was now as scarred as his insides. I found it appropriate, given the situation.
“Rise.” It wasn’t a question or a statement. This was a command, and it was said as such. I balanced my weight on my right side as I untangled my limbs and hobbled until I was standing upright.
When I rose to a height he found acceptable, he moved in closer. So close my flesh accepted his body heat as its own. He looked formidable standing before me, rippling with a tension that made the vein by his temple tick. I followed the tense muscles down his arms and found there in his hand a pair of shears, looking like something from my nightmares.
It was in the reflection of those scissors that I saw him. The man who kidnapped me and deemed me his property with no thought as to my emotions or needs. When I looked from tree to tree, focusing on the rope pulled taut from my struggles, I realized this was what I could come to expect from the monster that Dominic kept contained. This was what he did when he was losing control of his emotions, but how could I help him when I didn’t know what plagued him?
“D-Dominic?”
I wanted to rewind time, wanted to go back to the moment when he returned home last night. Maybe I should have spent more time talking with him. Not that it would have changed anything. Dominic only told me what he wanted me to know—nothing more—but I could have tried. There was something happening with him, but how do you help someone who doesn’t want help?
My knees shook like a dying carburetor, sputtering before I collapsed. Bits of loose rock dug into my skin, making me wince at the pressure. The rope pooled on either side of me, snaking loosely around my already limp body. Dominic crouched down until he was almost eye-level with me.
“Stop. No, Dominic.”
“Where did my little spitfire go? Do I need to find her again?”
“I’m not the same girl you took, Dominic.”
“Prove it,” he said with a smirk that made me want to smother his face in the dirt.
He dropped the scissors and lifted me in his arms before moving between the trees to adjust the height of the ropes until I was once again dangling with arms spread out wide.
“No! No! Dominic,” I said while struggling within my confines and fighting back a fresh wave of tears. It was useless. I was perfectly held between his arms. Even if I wasn’t tied to the trees, I still wouldn’t be able to escape his hold. The most I could do was tell him I didn’t want him to touch me and hope that he would be angry enough not to force the issue.
“No? No? Hailey, in all of the time you’ve known me, when has you telling me no ever worked? Did you really think it would work now?” he whispered.
Never. That was the answer he expected to hear. Never. Because for the longest time my voice was silenced by his needs and wants. I was a victim, a prisoner—my concerns went unnoticed. As long as I was healthy and followed the rules, everything was fine.
“Things are different now.” I tilted my head over my right shoulder to meet his eyes. All I saw was emptiness. His eyes were shadowed in the darkness of night, leaving two pits of black that made him look soulless.
“Are they?”
He picked up the scissors and moved closer. I fell as far back as the ropes allowed in my attempt to escape him, scrambled around until my legs felt pretzled in their contortion. When there was nowhere else for me to go, the edge of the scissors whispered across my breasts. The cold, menacing metal stretched the length of my chest, gleaming with purpose.
“Look at me.”
When I made no attempt to move, he grabbed a fistful of my hair—the roots snapping against my scalp with the strain, and yanked me back until the only thing I could focus on was him. Those wild brown eyes, rich with promise of frightening delight, sparkled in the moonlight. The cold of the metal licked my skin as he moved the scissors closer to my right breast. His eyes stayed locked on mine with the first snip. The loud clamp of the scissors cutting, mixed with the ease at which it cut through the strap, startled me.
“Don’t move, baby.” He groaned. He threw the strap of the bra back over my shoulder and out of the way as his mouth descended. The pathetic excuse of fabric dropped, leaving me exposed to his assault.
Yesterday was the cover reveal for Stolen & Fractured and I believe a few blogs posted an excerpt, which I wanted to add here in case you missed it.
Just a little bit of information about this scene (Director's Cut): It was probably one of the most emotionally complex scenes I've written and took the most editing, which I ended up dubbing as "The Forest Scene." I struggled a lot with whose POV I wanted to tell the scene from, but ultimately decided to stick with Hailey's Because it's happening to her the emotion was a lot more visceral than it would have been coming from Dominic.
“Wait! Dominic! Where are you going? You can’t leave me here!” I yelled to his back, but it was like shouting at a wall. Dominic was absorbed by the night as he walked farther and farther, without so much as a backwards glance to remind him of what he left behind. He just left me there while I continued shouting my outrage at his back.
“Don’t leave me! You can’t leave me here,” I continued mumbling incoherently through the shower of tears that drenched me in all of the anger and hurt. Dominic abandoned me. On purpose. He said he would never leave me and he left. I never even thought it was a possibility, but he did it. He proved that I couldn’t trust him. That every niggling doubt, every sheltered secret I knew he carried, all of it—it wasn’t a figment of my imagination. It wasn’t “Dominic’s way.” It was a part of Dominic. It wasn’t a choice he made, but as inherent as those devastating brown eyes and lickable lips. This was Dominic’s character flaw, among many.
I didn’t know how long he left me there—five, ten, fifteen minutes. It didn’t matter. Whatever the reason didn’t matter either, whether he could see it or not, something was breaking between us.
The ropes slid down the tree as my knees gave out. Dangling between those trees I cried for the girl I was, for the girl I’d lost to him, but more for the girl who couldn’t bridge this chasm with all the wood in the world. My face felt puffy and limp, and my body filled with a cold chill that had little to do with being naked in the middle of the forest. The air was balmy with a slight breeze—a perfect night to watch the flicker of new and old stars, to wish on comets bursting across the sky, and contemplate our insignificance in the universe.
Well I had the insignificance bit down.
The sound of crumpling leaves alerted me that I was no longer alone. I looked up to see all six foot two of him, his shirt now gone, showing clean lines of muscles rippling his arms and stomach, despite the inverted “Y” down the center of his upper chest and stomach. Dominic’s body was now as scarred as his insides. I found it appropriate, given the situation.
“Rise.” It wasn’t a question or a statement. This was a command, and it was said as such. I balanced my weight on my right side as I untangled my limbs and hobbled until I was standing upright.
When I rose to a height he found acceptable, he moved in closer. So close my flesh accepted his body heat as its own. He looked formidable standing before me, rippling with a tension that made the vein by his temple tick. I followed the tense muscles down his arms and found there in his hand a pair of shears, looking like something from my nightmares.
It was in the reflection of those scissors that I saw him. The man who kidnapped me and deemed me his property with no thought as to my emotions or needs. When I looked from tree to tree, focusing on the rope pulled taut from my struggles, I realized this was what I could come to expect from the monster that Dominic kept contained. This was what he did when he was losing control of his emotions, but how could I help him when I didn’t know what plagued him?
“D-Dominic?”
I wanted to rewind time, wanted to go back to the moment when he returned home last night. Maybe I should have spent more time talking with him. Not that it would have changed anything. Dominic only told me what he wanted me to know—nothing more—but I could have tried. There was something happening with him, but how do you help someone who doesn’t want help?
My knees shook like a dying carburetor, sputtering before I collapsed. Bits of loose rock dug into my skin, making me wince at the pressure. The rope pooled on either side of me, snaking loosely around my already limp body. Dominic crouched down until he was almost eye-level with me.
“Stop. No, Dominic.”
“Where did my little spitfire go? Do I need to find her again?”
“I’m not the same girl you took, Dominic.”
“Prove it,” he said with a smirk that made me want to smother his face in the dirt.
He dropped the scissors and lifted me in his arms before moving between the trees to adjust the height of the ropes until I was once again dangling with arms spread out wide.
“No! No! Dominic,” I said while struggling within my confines and fighting back a fresh wave of tears. It was useless. I was perfectly held between his arms. Even if I wasn’t tied to the trees, I still wouldn’t be able to escape his hold. The most I could do was tell him I didn’t want him to touch me and hope that he would be angry enough not to force the issue.
“No? No? Hailey, in all of the time you’ve known me, when has you telling me no ever worked? Did you really think it would work now?” he whispered.
Never. That was the answer he expected to hear. Never. Because for the longest time my voice was silenced by his needs and wants. I was a victim, a prisoner—my concerns went unnoticed. As long as I was healthy and followed the rules, everything was fine.
“Things are different now.” I tilted my head over my right shoulder to meet his eyes. All I saw was emptiness. His eyes were shadowed in the darkness of night, leaving two pits of black that made him look soulless.
“Are they?”
He picked up the scissors and moved closer. I fell as far back as the ropes allowed in my attempt to escape him, scrambled around until my legs felt pretzled in their contortion. When there was nowhere else for me to go, the edge of the scissors whispered across my breasts. The cold, menacing metal stretched the length of my chest, gleaming with purpose.
“Look at me.”
When I made no attempt to move, he grabbed a fistful of my hair—the roots snapping against my scalp with the strain, and yanked me back until the only thing I could focus on was him. Those wild brown eyes, rich with promise of frightening delight, sparkled in the moonlight. The cold of the metal licked my skin as he moved the scissors closer to my right breast. His eyes stayed locked on mine with the first snip. The loud clamp of the scissors cutting, mixed with the ease at which it cut through the strap, startled me.
“Don’t move, baby.” He groaned. He threw the strap of the bra back over my shoulder and out of the way as his mouth descended. The pathetic excuse of fabric dropped, leaving me exposed to his assault.
July 12, 2015
Updates
I am literally the worst at writing blog posts and what not, but I did an update on my FB page and thought I should share the excitement over here too.
There're a lot of things I'm currently working on. I'm pushing to get book 2 of the Stolen series published. I'm working on another series, which will be released sometime this winter and I've got a lot of ideas running around with their hands up saying, "I had my hand up first. I'm next."
OK, maybe not literally. I'm not crazy!
So without further ado, here are the updates:
-Book 2 in the Stolen Series is currently with the editor.
-Also, I haven’t said this before but I’ve had the HARDEST time coming up with a title for Book 2. For months it’s just been “SD2” but now it’s official.
SD2 = Stolen & Fractured.
-I’ve already looked at a couple mock-ups for the cover and I can’t wait to show you all (cover reveal will be early/mid August).
-Stolen & Fractured still doesn’t have a SET release date, but I will probably announce one first thing in August so be looking out for that.
Well, that's all for now, but August will be a big month for updates so keep an eye out for those!
There're a lot of things I'm currently working on. I'm pushing to get book 2 of the Stolen series published. I'm working on another series, which will be released sometime this winter and I've got a lot of ideas running around with their hands up saying, "I had my hand up first. I'm next."
OK, maybe not literally. I'm not crazy!
So without further ado, here are the updates:
-Book 2 in the Stolen Series is currently with the editor.
-Also, I haven’t said this before but I’ve had the HARDEST time coming up with a title for Book 2. For months it’s just been “SD2” but now it’s official.
SD2 = Stolen & Fractured.
-I’ve already looked at a couple mock-ups for the cover and I can’t wait to show you all (cover reveal will be early/mid August).
-Stolen & Fractured still doesn’t have a SET release date, but I will probably announce one first thing in August so be looking out for that.
Well, that's all for now, but August will be a big month for updates so keep an eye out for those!
March 25, 2015
Reading or Writing?
I have an addiction. It is one shared by many. In fact, if you’re reading this, you’re a member of Goodreads and the possibility that you suffer the same affliction is definitely a possibility.
Reading. Reading is my addiction. To be quite honest if it’s not reading then it’s writing. And that brings me to my problem.
I go through these spurts where I’ll read incessantly, forgoing phone calls, skipping meals, retiring at early hours of the morning as I just can’t seem to put the book down. I essentially become a shut-in, leaving my home bleary eyed as the blinding sun hits my face. Oftentimes when I do finally leave the house, I make it a couple minutes to the car before I take my next hit and open up my kindle app on my phone, resulting in the feeling of carsickness. I’ve found a way around that though—I read until the sickness feels like it just might make its way up to my throat and then tilt the chair back, to sleep the feeling away. 15 minutes later, wake, repeat.
Besides the obvious reasons of why this could be a problem, it’s also a problem for me as a writer…until my obsession with writing kicks in and then I have the same problem with writing, practically growling when the phone rings and jars me mid-sentence.
This is my every day struggle reading/writing, writing/reading. If I’m not doing one or the other, I am usually in a restless state. Actually, at this very moment I’m writing this between hits. I just finished reading a book and am lost in trying to figure out what to read next, so I’m shuffling between Goodreads and Amazon, with the occasional glance at Facebook to see what looks good.
…but, then again I did have a nice writing session earlier, maybe I should strike while the iron’s hot!
Reading. Reading is my addiction. To be quite honest if it’s not reading then it’s writing. And that brings me to my problem.
I go through these spurts where I’ll read incessantly, forgoing phone calls, skipping meals, retiring at early hours of the morning as I just can’t seem to put the book down. I essentially become a shut-in, leaving my home bleary eyed as the blinding sun hits my face. Oftentimes when I do finally leave the house, I make it a couple minutes to the car before I take my next hit and open up my kindle app on my phone, resulting in the feeling of carsickness. I’ve found a way around that though—I read until the sickness feels like it just might make its way up to my throat and then tilt the chair back, to sleep the feeling away. 15 minutes later, wake, repeat.
Besides the obvious reasons of why this could be a problem, it’s also a problem for me as a writer…until my obsession with writing kicks in and then I have the same problem with writing, practically growling when the phone rings and jars me mid-sentence.
This is my every day struggle reading/writing, writing/reading. If I’m not doing one or the other, I am usually in a restless state. Actually, at this very moment I’m writing this between hits. I just finished reading a book and am lost in trying to figure out what to read next, so I’m shuffling between Goodreads and Amazon, with the occasional glance at Facebook to see what looks good.
…but, then again I did have a nice writing session earlier, maybe I should strike while the iron’s hot!
March 4, 2015
Stolen Donor Extended Excerpt #1
The cold gray walls seem to shift before my eyes, and I feel lost in a maze of rooms with shackles dangling from the ceiling and lining the walls. I escape one room and find myself in another room just like it—just as cold and dark. The chill is like a fist, puncturing my skin and squeezing my heart until my limbs go numb. Slivers of light dance across the ceiling and floors like a disco ball, and I’m frozen by the appearance of light in this dark place. I chase the dancing lights like a child would a butterfly. Except, there’s nothing whimsical about this place.
Here there are no windows or doors, no way to get in or out, so when I feel him, I wonder how he got here. How did he find me? That’s right, he’s been here all along watching me, waiting. At first, he just hangs back, a looming figure playing voyeur to my nightmares, but I sense he’s uneasy. I can hear his labored breaths and the sound of blood galloping through his veins. His heart is pounding, and every muscle in his body is straining, held back by some invisible force that is precariously close to snapping. It’s a force bigger than either of us. I am equally propelled and repulsed by it, but I can’t deny its magnitude.
Then I feel the metal lock tight against me, restraining my wrists and ankles to a vertical black mat reminding me of that ride at the fair, the one where you’re in a spindle and gravity is forcing you against the walls while you spin round and round. Only, I’m not spinning, and I am more stuck than gravity could make possible. A thick, silver collar is latched around my neck with a chain dangling from the ceiling. I move my neck and listen as the chinks in the chain tumble together and pull taut once more.
I can’t see him, but I feel his breath on my neck, feel it billowing across my skin, merging with the heat of my flesh. I can feel him beneath my skin, penetrating my thoughts. He could read my mind right now. He knows what I want, the things that excite me. My body craves more, and as if answering me, I feel his tongue tracing the cuff around my ankle. I’ve never known anything to be so erotic. He continues moving from one ankle to the next, from one wrist to the other, before landing at my neck. His tongue snakes around every shackle, as if I need reminding that I am his.
My fingers want to reach out and touch this strange man who makes my fantasies come to life. I want to feel him beneath my fingers and watch his eyes light up from my touch.
His arms box me in until I am sinking into the mat behind me, cocooning me until the only thing I feel is the flush of his skin against mine. Our bodies writhe against each other as our sparks turn into a full-blown fire. I feel a nudge against my stomach, and my back arches to get closer and feel the length of him. His body is hard and dominating, and the way his fingers pinch my hips sends tidal waves crashing through my center. Moisture begins to pool between my thighs, and I pull him in tighter between my legs, rubbing myself along the thick muscles of his legs.
“Hailey,” my name is a whisper on his lips before he captures my mouth in a soul-crushing kiss that is both gentle and punishing. He drinks me in, lavishing me with a tongue that is velvety smooth and soft, swiping through my mouth in strokes that make my face flush and toes curl. He claims me with this kiss, but it isn’t enough.
I moan into his mouth loud, louder, until the whole room is a chorus of the sounds he elicits from the deepest parts of me. His hands fist in my hair, rocking my head back until my body is threaded tight as a bowstring and I am whimpering against his lips. He smiles a cruel smile, reveling in my obvious torture.
I’m now naked before him. My clothes having evaporated into thin air. His fingers pinch my inner thighs, and he opens me wider to his assault. My body readies itself for his entry, depositing beads of moisture along my seam. With the first swipe of his tongue between my legs, every muscle in my body clenches, preparing me for the onslaught of his ravishing mouth. My fingernails plunge into the vinyl behind me as I swing my hips into his relentless tongue. The force propelling me forward is one I’ve never experienced before and one I can’t control. I feel its energy gaining momentum, rushing through my body waiting to be detonated and then his tongue moves faster, and I explode.
Here there are no windows or doors, no way to get in or out, so when I feel him, I wonder how he got here. How did he find me? That’s right, he’s been here all along watching me, waiting. At first, he just hangs back, a looming figure playing voyeur to my nightmares, but I sense he’s uneasy. I can hear his labored breaths and the sound of blood galloping through his veins. His heart is pounding, and every muscle in his body is straining, held back by some invisible force that is precariously close to snapping. It’s a force bigger than either of us. I am equally propelled and repulsed by it, but I can’t deny its magnitude.
Then I feel the metal lock tight against me, restraining my wrists and ankles to a vertical black mat reminding me of that ride at the fair, the one where you’re in a spindle and gravity is forcing you against the walls while you spin round and round. Only, I’m not spinning, and I am more stuck than gravity could make possible. A thick, silver collar is latched around my neck with a chain dangling from the ceiling. I move my neck and listen as the chinks in the chain tumble together and pull taut once more.
I can’t see him, but I feel his breath on my neck, feel it billowing across my skin, merging with the heat of my flesh. I can feel him beneath my skin, penetrating my thoughts. He could read my mind right now. He knows what I want, the things that excite me. My body craves more, and as if answering me, I feel his tongue tracing the cuff around my ankle. I’ve never known anything to be so erotic. He continues moving from one ankle to the next, from one wrist to the other, before landing at my neck. His tongue snakes around every shackle, as if I need reminding that I am his.
My fingers want to reach out and touch this strange man who makes my fantasies come to life. I want to feel him beneath my fingers and watch his eyes light up from my touch.
His arms box me in until I am sinking into the mat behind me, cocooning me until the only thing I feel is the flush of his skin against mine. Our bodies writhe against each other as our sparks turn into a full-blown fire. I feel a nudge against my stomach, and my back arches to get closer and feel the length of him. His body is hard and dominating, and the way his fingers pinch my hips sends tidal waves crashing through my center. Moisture begins to pool between my thighs, and I pull him in tighter between my legs, rubbing myself along the thick muscles of his legs.
“Hailey,” my name is a whisper on his lips before he captures my mouth in a soul-crushing kiss that is both gentle and punishing. He drinks me in, lavishing me with a tongue that is velvety smooth and soft, swiping through my mouth in strokes that make my face flush and toes curl. He claims me with this kiss, but it isn’t enough.
I moan into his mouth loud, louder, until the whole room is a chorus of the sounds he elicits from the deepest parts of me. His hands fist in my hair, rocking my head back until my body is threaded tight as a bowstring and I am whimpering against his lips. He smiles a cruel smile, reveling in my obvious torture.
I’m now naked before him. My clothes having evaporated into thin air. His fingers pinch my inner thighs, and he opens me wider to his assault. My body readies itself for his entry, depositing beads of moisture along my seam. With the first swipe of his tongue between my legs, every muscle in my body clenches, preparing me for the onslaught of his ravishing mouth. My fingernails plunge into the vinyl behind me as I swing my hips into his relentless tongue. The force propelling me forward is one I’ve never experienced before and one I can’t control. I feel its energy gaining momentum, rushing through my body waiting to be detonated and then his tongue moves faster, and I explode.
March 2, 2015
March Madness (and I'm not talking about basketball)
When I started this writing journey I had no idea of the all-around work involved in the process, especially as an indie author. While writing could never be considered "easy," it is by far the easiest part of the process.
Between the constant back and forth between beta readers, editors, and the cover designer, the whole process has taken countless hours just so this one little book can make its way to you.
I have been fortunate that I've been able to take some time away from working to pursue this endeavor, but now that I'm approaching the finish line I am finding myself more inspired by those that actually do this and work a full-time job. It seems unfathomable to me!
March is gearing up to be one of the busiest months for me as I prepare for the release of "Stolen Donor" on March 30th! I am so nervous and so excited, but overall I can't wait to introduce you to Hailey and Dominic.
Be sure to keep your eyes peeled for the cover reveal happening on March 4th!
Between the constant back and forth between beta readers, editors, and the cover designer, the whole process has taken countless hours just so this one little book can make its way to you.
I have been fortunate that I've been able to take some time away from working to pursue this endeavor, but now that I'm approaching the finish line I am finding myself more inspired by those that actually do this and work a full-time job. It seems unfathomable to me!
March is gearing up to be one of the busiest months for me as I prepare for the release of "Stolen Donor" on March 30th! I am so nervous and so excited, but overall I can't wait to introduce you to Hailey and Dominic.
Be sure to keep your eyes peeled for the cover reveal happening on March 4th!
