C.A. Worley's Blog, page 4

Excerpt: The Vampire King’s Mate

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Shout out OliviaProDesigns on Fiverr who has done both covers for me in this series.

Hello, Universe! You’ve been keeping me busy lately. That’s okay because I’ve finally wrapped up the ARC file for The Vampire King’s Mate. I’ve also got it out on PreOrder and Book 3 is rockin’-and-rollin’. Slowly, but whatever.

Before Book 2’s release, I want to share a few excerpts. I already posted one back on October 9 (the scene where Viktor first sees Eden). This one includes an entire chapter. If you like what you see, you can PreOrder it for only 99 cents (regular price is $2.99). I’ll hold the sale price through December 1st. The book releases 11/26/18, fyi.

Click here for purchasing links. Happy Reading!

Chapter 8 Excerpt

Eden shuddered at his breath tickling her ear and the reminder she was his mate. She pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth to prevent any sound from escaping her lips. She focused on the dark room before her.

This room had no windows, and, thus, was much darker than the bedroom. She could make out the candelabras inside and used her magic to light them.

The flames flickered brightly. There had to be well over a hundred candles lining the walls. Once she realized what was inside the room, she considered snuffing them out.

In the middle was a bed, covered in only a dark sheet. No pillows, no blankets, just the sheet.

To the left was a wooden chair. Or, she thought it was a chair. The seat was awfully small. It had rope attached to the arms and legs and was tilted so that whomever sat in it was reclined. It was also high off the ground. She would have to be lifted to sit in it.

To the right of the bed was a couch, of sorts. It was narrow and oddly shaped, looking like the back of a serpent, or a rolling wave. It would provide a comfortable position in which to lounge and read, but she knew this item of furniture was not meant for reading.

There were chains and cuffs attached to the walls in various spots, anchored to the grooves within the stone. Shelving stood near another door, which she presumed exited into the hall. It held a dozen or so towels. She’d never seen black towels before.

Eden may not have known much in the ways of sex, but she was intelligent and had a perfectly good imagination, one that was now giving her quite a show inside her head.

She should be frightened, not intrigued. She imagined his teeth penetrating her skin, how it would feel. Would he cuff her to the wall, so she could not flee? What else would he do to her?

Eden pictured countless Prajna coming and going from this room to service their king. She knew they offered more than their veins. How many of them had he allowed into his bed of gold?

“Why do you have this room? Why—why is it important enough to be attached to your bed chamber?”

Viktor tried to see it through her virginal eyes. It was fairly obvious what occurred in here. Sex often followed a feeding, and he almost always partook of what was so freely offered.

Eden, of course, would have to become accustomed to his bite, as well as to whatever preceded and followed. He was guessing she lacked knowledge of what a Prajna’s bite was like, that it could be highly pleasurable.

“This is my feeding room,” he told her.

“Your feeding room.”

“Yes.”

“This is where you … drink from others?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why do I feed from others or why do I do it here?”

“I know why you feed. You need blood to live. Why here?”

Viktor shrugged. “I do not care to have anyone in my personal quarters.”

Eden tensed, thinking he did not intend to have her share his room. “Is this where I am to sleep, then? In your feeding room?”

He frowned. “Of course not.”

“Will I have a separate room?”

“No,” his voice boomed, causing her to flinch. He immediately reigned in his displeasure, softening his speech.

“No, Eden. My sieva is welcome in my room. The others are not.”

Unable to stop herself, she smiled, beyond pleased with this information. It was almost sweet that his bed was only for her.

Viktor swore his heart stopped at the sight of her beaming up at him. He dug his fingernails into his palms, needing to find a way to avoid slicing through her clothing and taking her against the stone wall.

He pictured cuffing her, commanding her actions as he commanded her pleasure. How long would it take her to submit? She was nowhere near ready for what he wanted her to give him.

Eden cleared her throat and pointed to the unconventional furniture. “This room is not solely used for feeding, is it?”

The hulking male’s eyebrows drew down and together, not liking where his mate’s questions were headed. It was easily discernible what occurred when he utilized the equipment in this place. Eden was going to make him say it aloud.

Being bluntly honest, which he’d told himself he’d be, was more difficult than expected. It didn’t help that his resistance to her was waning.

“No. It is not solely used for feeding.”

She nodded, processing his answer. Her left hand rubbed absently along her collar bone, deep in thought.

Viktor felt like a piece of her had withdrawn. He disliked it, but for now he would allow it. They had time for Eden to learn how to answer his demands—and he would demand she give him everything.

He stared as she stroked the delicate skin below her neck. He zeroed in on the artery pulsating above her finger tips. He was close to losing it. The cicatrice would not stop him. It wanted him to push inside her, to lap up her lifeblood, and bond his soul to hers.

“You need to leave,” he announced.

Eden’s mouth dropped open.

“Now, Eden.”

Before she could reply, he had her by the elbow, dragging her back into his bedchamber. Eden jerked her arm away, upset at being manhandled, and her mark quickly sent out its calming vibes.

“Do not be upset,” he ordered, locking the door behind him. “It is very distracting having you in that room. It’s easier for me to talk to you in here.”

“You didn’t like me asking questions.”

“Your questions do not bother me. Having you in the room I use for feeding and for … sating many appetites, well, let’s just say I doubt your ability to handle the answer to that question. If I were you, I would give up this topic of conversation.”

Eden wasn’t some immature child. She wanted truth. She could handle his truth. If she was his destined mate, that was how it would have to be. She resented him a little for treating her as though she was less capable than the females he’d had in his feeding room.

At the contemplation of those who had come before her, her palm tingled, transferring its peaceful magic again. This time, she didn’t want it to alter her mental state. She worried it would prevent her from having an honest dialog with Viktor.

She would leave it be, as he suggested. For now. But only because she had a more compulsory line of questioning.

She held her palm up in front of his face. “Why is it, every time I am riled, this birthmark lights up and calms me down? And why am I so quick to anger in the first place? I am never emotional. The longer I am in your presence the more I feel this back-and-forth pull.”

Clever little witch, he thought. Instead of trusting her emotions, she catalogued and analyzed the change in them. They were very well-suited.

“Lower you hand, Eden.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he replied, holding up his left hand, which was still emitting the soft light from earlier. “I want to grab it with my own. If I do so, your question will go unanswered until much later, if at all. We’ll be so caught up in one another, I doubt you’ll even remember what you wanted to know.”

Eden lowered her arm, comprehending his meaning. Then she remembered she was in her riding clothes and reached into the pocket of her cloak.

Viktor watched as Eden extracted a leather glove from within her cloak. She waved it in front of him, her lips shaping into a self-satisfied smirk. Then she slid her fingers into the opening.

It would cover the cicatrice completely. She really was sharp as a tack. It made her all the more attractive.

Her small hand pulled at the leather, sliding it down to her wrist until it was securely in place. It would help, but only for so long. Sooner or later, the cicatrice would ensure the soul-bond took place, whether they wanted it or not.

Eden removed her cloak and put it on the bench next to the door. Then she dropped into the chair on the opposite side of the fireplace from the blue wingback and indicated he should also sit. Viktor remained standing.

“Please?” she requested.

Viktor liked hearing ‘please’ come from her mouth, so he lowered himself into the chair. She would be saying the word again. Soon.

“Will you help me understand what’s happening to me?”

“Very well.”

“Thank you,” she exhaled. Finally, some answers!

“As I told you in the temple, the marking is what the Prajna call a cicatrice. We are all born with one. Our sievas, our true mates, are born with the identical mark. When we touch them together and exchange blood, we will be bonded. It is important, Eden, for you to understand Fate chose you as mine from the time of your birth.”

“Which would mean you were mine, as well, yes?”

Viktor smirked.

“Yes. Though, it is extremely rare for a sieva to not be a vampire. A handful of demon mates have been found, but I have not heard of anyone from Gwydion bearing the mark.”

“Yes, well, we are the only faction to be born without a pre-ordained mate.”

Viktor’s smirked vanished. “I would think, with your sister being a true mate to a wolf, and you being my sieva, that statement is not entirely accurate.”

Evelyn’s face popped into Eden’s mind. If anyone would be open to such a notion as fated mates, it would be Evelyn. She’d acted all starry-eyed over Nora’s experience and almost envious of Eden’s.

If the powers of the universe created a mate for her sweet Evie, her sister would run into his arms and ask questions later. Eden wasn’t quite so fanciful in her concept of love.

“The cicatrice?” she prodded.

“Yes, well, it is first and foremost how one knows he or she has found their intended,” he paused, wanting to choose his next words carefully. He would not risk Eden misinterpreting its effects on her disposition.

“What else is it, other than a means to make me question my sanity?”

Viktor chuckled, and Eden thought it the most wonderful sound she had ever heard. She had a feeling it did not happen often.

“Trust me, I understand your frustration. It makes you question if you ever felt what you knew you had been feeling. But that is the magic of the cicatrice. Its power will placate its bearer, wanting to ensure there is no animosity between mates.”

“Why? It sounds almost like trickery.”

Viktor narrowed his eyes. “It is not trickery. It is insurance that the soul-bonding will occur in a timely fashion. Once it does, the power it has over your emotions will fade.”

It was temporary. Thank the Goddess.

“So, my . . . annoyance will also be more manageable?”

Viktor chuckled again. “Doubtful. The cicatrice mollifies you, erasing your vexations. It would not push you into feeling such negative emotions. That, my dear Eden, is all you.”

Sneak Peek and PreOrderpalooza!

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Happy Tuesday, Universe. Even you, Deborah. I hope this post finds you happy and healthy on this fine fall day. If it doesn’t, let me give you a little boost: The Vampire King’s Mate is only 99cents to preorder! What’s that? This news fails to fill the gaping hole in your life that has become the drain on your will to live? I’m not a miracle worker, people.

But in all seriousness, this little gem is only 99cents to preorder. The regular price is $2.99. I’ll hold the sale price through December 1st (book releases 11/26).  As a little teaser, I’ve included an excerpt below. Happy reading!

Links to Buy: Amazon    iBooks    Smashwords    Nook    Kobo

Excerpt from The Vampire King’s Mate:

Viktor ported himself to a small clearing near the Temple of Sanctus Femina. Theron did not like to be surprised, so Viktor never ported directly to the priest. He also had no way of knowing if Theron was alone and was averse to the idea of revealing his power to a stranger, especially one who may be armed.

The vampires were not fond of others knowing they had the ability to teleport from one place to another. It wasn’t a secret, per se, but they did not flaunt it and rarely, if ever, did it in front of those who were not Prajna.

His long legs glided fluidly towards the temple. Vampires moved smoothly and soundlessly—so much so they were often accused of being able to float or levitate. It was a strategy of war to keep one’s enemies guessing.

Viktor remained alert, listening for signs of others in the building. Once he reached the stairs, he heard Theron’s voice, along with several others.

Vampires had impeccable hearing, maybe even better than the wolves. He didn’t have to be in the building to make out what they were saying. He didn’t even need to be in the same room to hear their heartbeats.

He recognized King Edward’s vocal sounds immediately. He was one of the few elementals Viktor had ever met. Edward was well-liked and appeared to be a respectable ruler. Their interactions during meetings at the temple had been pleasant enough.

The gravelly tones of the third voice were distinctly wolf—Kellan’s Second, if memory served correct. Well, then. It seemed the wolves and the witches had also come to pay a visit. Viktor did not believe in coincidences.

The males were discussing the state of Imperium. Viktor did not want Theron disclosing things the Prajna did not want known. He trusted the old man, but only to a point. Viktor did not get to his current position by being naïve.

Rather than waiting for the meeting to finish, Viktor decided to join it, curious to know how much the foreigners would share with a vampire present. He moved silently up the stairs and turned right towards Theron’s study.

His steps slowed when he saw a small female standing outside the door. From her size, he knew she must be an elemental. Female wolves and vampires were much taller, their bodies broader, designed to take impact in battle, and to withstand the lust-filled aggressions of their males.

She was obviously listening to the exchange inside the study, and his mouth flattened at her impudence. Viktor could easily hear the exchange, as well, but it was because his hearing was enhanced, not because he was skulking about, eavesdropping. She should be taken over someone’s knee, grown or not.

He visualized it being his hand reminding her of her manners. Viktor’s palm tingled as he pictured it coming down on her round bottom. It stung as if he’d actually performed the act.

His muscles flexed and bunched as he fought the urge to pounce. It made him uneasy. Viktor never had to fight with himself. He was cold. Calculating. His actions were never unplanned.

Inch by inch Viktor closed the distance. He reigned in his unbridled lust by slamming down his ironclad shields over his emotions. Centuries of practice living under his father had made it second nature.

Once he was fully in control again, he paused to study the female.

Her long hair swayed as she tilted her head. The light coming in from the skylights above reflected strands of gold and copper among the mass of light brunette waves.

It was the most unique head of hair he’d ever seen. He briefly wondered what it would feel like in his hands.

It was at this moment his cicatrice forced his palm up, towards the female. It sent reassuring waves of encouragement through his body, that he should continue his path. Touch her. Caress her. Teleport her to his rooms and claim her.

Viktor froze. The reality of what was before him hit with the force of a thousand ocean waves. Only his strength due to his age kept him off his knees—the eldest of the Prajna were the strongest.

Viktor was seeing his sieva for the first time. She was close enough to touch. Well, that certainly explains the need to spank her, he mused.

He forced his arm down, knowing he should not touch her. Not yet.

If his cicatrice touched hers, the soul-bonding would begin. They would both be powerless to stop it. Here, outside Theron’s study, was not the place to perform such rituals.

Somewhere in the recess of his mind, he remembered this was the complication he had wanted to avoid. Finding her now, after all these years, put him in an awkward position. His shields buckled.

The cicatrice pulsed again, this time with a soothing balm, wiping away his troubled thoughts. No, finding her was right. Finding her was a blessing. He would handle whatever came as a result.

Desire like he’d never known shook his body, pushed him to move towards the small creature. He worried he would break her in half once he had her alone. She was so petite compared to him.

He also knew he would probably frighten her. Most of Imperium feared the Prajna, especially the elementals. He did not want her to fear him. It would interfere with his plans for her in his bed.

Viktor fought the need to grab his little mate and port her away to the privacy of his chambers. No, if she was here at the temple, it meant Edward brought her. Viktor would not invite trouble from the King of Gwydion.

Still, this female belonged to Viktor. When he left the temple, she would be leaving with him. Freely, and with the Good King’s blessing. He presumed Edward would relent once he knew Viktor and the female were mates.

He wanted to see her face. He also wanted to see how she would react to the nature of his personality. Not many sought his company for the sake of his company. His gruff persona ensured others let him be.

Viktor widened his stance and crossed his arms, trying to strike a pose that would prevent him from reaching for her lithe form. He kept his voice quiet so those in the study would not interrupt.

“You know, eavesdropping is impolite, mala vestica.” Little witch, he’d called her.

She turned so fast he had to school his features to hide his shock. Elementals weren’t known for their speed of movement. This was no ordinary witch.

The hand over her mouth stifled her reaction. Her eyes were wide, but only for a second. As she lowered her hand, she masked her fright.

Viktor’s breath caught. She was beautiful, more beautiful than any image he could have conjured in his mind. He’d always considered Bianca to be stunning with her white hair and dark brows; she was nothing compared to Viktor’s mate.

Her flawless skin made her look almost doll-like, giving the impression she was more fragile than was probably true. Her irises did not match, but it only made her more attractive, more exceptional. They were the same hypnotic hues from his dreams.

The right eye was undeniably the trademark emerald of his own, much like all Prajna. Nature had given the vampires eyes that were hard to look away from. It made catching and hypnotizing prey much easier.

He quirked an eyebrow as she looked him up and down, then boldly met his eyes, a far cry from the frightened reaction she had when he’d startled her. She was a delightful mixture of contradictions and she hadn’t even opened her sinful mouth.

Eden’s perusal of the enormous Prajna revealed she was not so immune to the male gender, after all. His hair was dark and cut short. The sharp angles of his chiseled face gave him a stately appearance.

He was tall. So very tall. His face had to be a foot and half above hers. His build matched his height, making him an imposing figure. He was by far the largest person she had ever seen, bigger than King Kellan.

As opposed to a sturdy sequoia, this male was built like the coastal redwood. Just as strong, but towering to the point all that muscle was lengthened, giving a false impression of lankiness.

He was dressed impeccably well, donning a dark suit of a fashion that seemed a bit antiquated for their time. The darkness of his clothing accentuated the arresting color of his eyes. Emerald green, so radiant they shined.

Her entire body flushed with warmth. At first, she assumed it was anger heating her skin. The dampness between her legs told her otherwise. For the first time in her life, Eden was attracted to another. No, not just attracted. Enthralled. She’d never felt anything like it.

Instinct told her to close the distance between them, to touch him. Her mind insisted she stay put. Eden’s hand practically moved of its own volition and she had to force it to remain at her side. Her mind would always win over her instincts. She’d spent most of her life practicing, ensuring it would.

Once she felt she could constrain her reactions to the Prajna, she finally responded.

“And, as I am sure you know, calling an elemental a witch is most insulting.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. Eden wondered what it would take to get both corners to stretch across his face.

“You know the Old Language?” he asked, wondering how old she was. The Gwydions did not live nearly as long as the other factions of Imperium. He assumed few of them spoke or even knew the native tongue of the early peoples. The demons were the only ones who used it habitually.

“More or less. A lot less than you, I’m sure.”

“Indeed.”

He leaned forward a few inches. Not enough to invade her personal space, but enough to be sure he held her full attention. He inhaled, needing to know her scent, wanting to taste it upon his tongue. She smelled like a summer rain falling upon the ocean. It was his favorite aroma in all the world.

He heard her heartrate increase, then, slowly decrease. It sounded as though her heart was pumping hard, but her blood refused to move. It was … unnatural, almost as if it was forced.

He noticed a faint trace of magic in the air. Did she compel her blood to slow with magic? He’d never heard of such a thing. Viktor worried she would damage herself internally.

He was about to command her to stop whatever it was she was doing to her blood when the door swung open and Theron stepped through. Two other men stood behind him.

Viktor straightened his spine. He didn’t like his mate being between him and the three males, but the female didn’t so much as flinch when the door opened. It was obvious she did not view the interlopers as dangerous.

Theron’s multi-colored eyes met Viktor’s. They moved to the female, then back to Viktor, who remained still, allowing Theron to assess the situation and speak first. It was the only diplomatic tactic his father had ever taught him.

The priest’s long white hair was as unkempt as ever. Viktor knew the Theron’s appearance was a façade. There was great power under his disheveled guise.

No one knew from which faction he had come. The colors of the irises usually gave it away. But Theron’s were like a kaleidoscope, constantly moving and mixing colors. It had taken years for Viktor to get used to it.

Scent was the other way to identify which race Theron was, but he never smelled the same. The last time Viktor was here, the old man smelled of cinnamon. No being in Imperium smelled of cinnamon.

Today, he smelled of earth. It was faint, but definitely earth.

“Viktor,” Theron greeted him. “Welcome.”

“Theron,” Viktor replied. He peered over the priest’s shoulder to the men behind him. “It seems I am late to the festivities.”

Theron smiled, his eyes twinkling in delight as he looked at Viktor’s mate, who hadn’t moved an inch since the door was opened.

“On the contrary, I’d wager you’ve arrived at the exact moment you were meant to.”

Writings and Podcasts and Books, Oh My!

Hello, good people. How we doin’ on this glorious fall day? It’s sunny and in the 60s here and Momma’s loving it. I ran and didn’t cry once for more agua. Also reason to not cry? I finished first edits on The Vampire King’s Mate and was interviewed for the Write To Survive Podcast. It’s been a good week, indeed. So don’t muck it up for me, Deborah.

I’ve never been interviewed aside from a few blogs asking me questions on my release days. It was great and I have to say I really had fun with it. I also have to say I hate my voice. Where did my Southern accent go? Oh, it died a short death shortly after college and no one told me? Great. Good to know.

The podcast is run by a former student of mine (along with some others I didn’t get a chance to meet) named Dan. It was odd hearing him say my first name, but since he’s an adult, it would have been uber weird for him to keep calling me Mrs. Worley. I almost asked him to, just for funzies. Almost. Also odd? Him knowing I write romance novels. But let’s not dwell on things that make Mrs. Worley uncomfortable, ‘mkay?

Anyway, the show has some great talking points about self-publishing. I think I provide some nice comedic relief … once, possibly twice. Hey, I was nervous, alright? There are also some publishing opportunities mentioned towards the end. If you’d like to check it out, click here and give it a listen.

If not, by all means continue reading. I’ve been a busy girl and I have a lot going on. First, I need to find the 500+ people who have downloaded The Wolf King’s Bride and get them to review the book (pretty please????). It’s by far my best release, yet Amazon only has 4 reviews. I think my ARC team (usually reading for my “other” name) wasn’t so interested in fantasy. That’s okay. I should have recruited peeps who love fantasy romance. Are you interested in ARCing? Is that word? No? If you do want to be an ARC reader (or possible Beta), click here.

Second, I need to figure out how to promo Book 2, The Vampire King’s Mate, well before it releases 11/26/18. Suggestions? Leave me a Comment. Third, I need to write Book 3. I have the Prologue, so it’s a start. A super duper tiny start, but it’s better than nothing. Barely.

Last … I forgot what this was. This is what happens when I don’t write stuff down. Bleh. Well, have a very Happy Friday, everyone!

 

Small Victory

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I’m officially a week into the release of The Wolf King’s Bride, and I must say it’s going rather well … for someone like me. What do I mean by that? Well, for someone publishing under a specific name for the first time, someone self-publishing, and someone who does not make much money from her novels and who isn’t willing to dish out a thousand bucks for ads. Side note: I’d like to make more money from my novels, so if the Universe could just conspire to help me out, that be great.

Moving on. This new release isn’t ranking as high as my other books (under the Cass Alexander pen name), but I have made more money off of The Wolf King’s Bride this week than all my other books combined. Victory? I say yes. Albeit, a small one, if we’re looking at dollars and cents. But I don’t care. Okay, okay, I care, but I’m also a realist. The % jump/increase is large and in charge and showing potential, so I’ll take it.

The question now is how to capitalize? I swear if I read one more article telling me what to do as an indie author I’m going to go blind. How do you spell contradiction? G-O-O-G-L-E. Too many experts “helping” me out makes me a cranky girl. Though, I should probably listen. Question is, to which one??

What I need to happen, I think, is for the 300 people who have this book in their hands to leave a review. I think that’s Step 1. Step 2, I need to get some more bloggers to post a review on their blogs. Step 3? No clue, dude. I’m wavering between publishing the second book or devoting all my time and energy into getting this first book in the series read and reviewed. I’m going to run out of free time in the next few weeks due to work, so I have to make some decisions.

I don’t think I have enough of a following to pull off a strong release of the second book during the holiday season. I’m thinking January. I’ve read authors should release back-to-back, but I’m really hesitant because of the timing. Despite my gorgeous cover, this novel isn’t going under American Christmas trees in December. But those holiday gift cards might get me some sales.

However, if–and this is a big if–I magically have a huge jump in Book 1’s downloads this month, I’ll consider putting Book 2 out there after Halloween. Again, I hesitate because who is buying/reading a little-known author’s books right before Thanksgiving?

If this is the biggest problem I have to deal with, then I think my life is pretty awesome. I mean, without doing much, I got more people to purchase this new release (the first under C.A. Worley) than all my other books combined (excluding my permafree books). I’ll take this small victory and keep on truckin’.

If you have some advice, I’m all ears! Leave a comment.

Drop it Like it’s Hot!

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Good morning, good people! Today is the day I release my first fantasy romance novel under the C.A. Worley moniker. As I rock myself slowly in the corner (kidding–I’m in the kitchen), I’m experiencing the roller coaster that is authorship. Or so I’ve read. Like the bipolar bear of the Arctic, I’m drifting between the icebergs of “oh, I’m so proud I tried this” and “WTF was I thinking?” I’ve only come up with one real truth–it’s never too early to drink.

Compared to my alter ego, Cass Alexander, this has already been a more successful release. I had more pre-orders (thanks, Aunties, for the pity-buys) than I’ve ever had. It makes me feel more pressured to produce a quality product. I am comfortable with the quality of my humor. Yes, it’s not appropriate for children, but I know I get the laughs. I hear them when people laugh at me. This Fate of Imperium Series business is a whole new ball game. The closest I came to a joke was using the word ‘assholery’ in some internal dialogue. Am I’m not even sure it’s a word. Or a joke.

Any-hoo, today is Day 1 of this book’s official sales life. Fingers crossed it goes well and picks up momentum. I’d like a reason to keep the series going aside from my inability to let things go (sorry, Mom). Book 2 is coming along nicely. That’s writer-speak for it’s sucking my will to live. But the rough draft is almost finished and then I can take a break. From the bourbon.

For links to the various places where you can purchase this masterpiece (hahaha!), click here. Cheers to an awesome launch!

FB Ads, Yea or Nay?

Okay, Internet. I need a sign. Or advice. Or a result in a Google search that doesn’t end up with me thinking I have some incurable brain tumor. Can we help an author out? I’m wondering about the Facebook Ad situation for authors. The good, the bad, and the really great. No, I don’t want your ugly. I’ve seen it and it scares me.

Anyway, I have a book release next week. It’s my first under this moniker and it’s also the first fantasy romance I’ve ever written. Suffice to say, I’m a tad nervous. I’ve never been good at book marketing. It’s like swimming in quicksand with four-thousand people watching and shouting out Dos and Don’ts–that was plural ‘Do’, not the Spanish word for two, in case you didn’t pick it up.

I Googled it and read articles and watched videos and I gotta tell ya, I’m getting a ton of mixed signals. Some authors swear by them (mostly big-name authors). Did these authors find success with the help of Facebook Ads before they started selling a lot of books? Or do Facebook Ads help them because they now have a large audience paying attention to their well-known name?

I’ve run ads with the tiniest of budgets with no results. But my images weren’t great and I didn’t really grasp my target audience. Also, $10 doesn’t get you much in this world. So tell, me, Internet, what’s a gal to do with a small budget, a new book, and the fear of becoming Ms. Spam-a-lot plaguing her waking moments? I can only Tweet in your face so many times before you unfollow me.

I’m going to wrestle with this for a while, I’m sure. Meanwhile, I’ve got a book launch to take care of. I’m open to suggestions, y’all. Are you an author who utilizes the Facebook Ad option? Does it work? Do your sales jump?

Share your wisdom. I beg you! Also, send coffee and donuts.

Instafreebie Group Giveaway

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With the coming release of The Wolf King’s Bride, I’m trying to drum up some attention. I’ve never used Instafreebie before, but I decided it would be worth giving the novel away to get it in readers’ hands. The Giveaway I’ve joined has 70+ romance books in the sub genres of urban fantasy, paranormal, fantasy, and contemporary.

It’s a lot of books for the low price of FREE, y’all! Check them out here. If you do claim any of the books, please be a doll and leave a review for the author, preferably Amazon or Goodreads.

Happy Reading!

The Struggle is Real, Y’all

Top of the mornin’ to ya, good people! No, I’m not in a good mood. I’m delirious. It’s a wonderful place to be when you need a break from reality. What’s wrong with my reality? Is my life falling apart? No, nothing quite so extreme. I’m just coming to terms with the plight of the Indie Author. This shit is not easy.

I’ve been doing this for almost two years, which I realize isn’t so long. Some people take two years (or more) to even write a book. Side note: if you’re new to “me” then you might not know I write romantic comedy and erotic romance under the pen name of Cass Alexander. But in that two years, I’ve read a bazillion articles and books, researched for hours, watched videos, and even spoke to other authors, all in an effort to figure out how to “do all the things.” Now I’m tired. Also, I didn’t sleep well last night so this post is likely going to give you a headache–it may very well take a turn to another subject, like pythons, which are what woke me up. Stupid snakes trying to eat me. Go ahead, psychoanalyze that one.

Anyway, most of us self-publishers do not have the funds to pay for promotion. So we use our time trying to connect on social media, trying to find free websites to promote ourselves, trying to figure out the damned mysteries of the publishing world. It’s time consuming and I don’t know how people who work full time manage their time. Do they sleep? I’m guessing no, not really. They probably dream of pythons swallowing them whole. That happens, right?

I have found some good places (like AskDavid.com) that are free and can reach a lot of people, and I (Cass, actually) have had over 6k downloads (mostly for my two free books). Theoretically, this should have landed me a good amount of reviews and/or ratings. It did not. The reviews I’ve gotten have almost all been great (looking at you little miss 1-star who didn’t leave a review to say why you ranked it so low). I (again, Cass) average pretty high on the rating scale, I just can’t get very many.

So now, with this release of The Wolf King’s Bride, I’ve decided to pay someone to handle the release tour. I need something taken off my plate. I need help, especially since I’m releasing under a different name AND because this is a fantasy romance without humor. It’s a new genre for me and I’m terrified to release it. Everything about this one is different, from the author name to the content to how I’m releasing.

I found someone who wouldn’t charge me an arm and a leg. Bewitching Book Tours, who specializes in releasing paranormal romance (hence the name), will handle things for me for the low price of $55. That’s an amazing deal for what I’m getting. There’s no guarantee it will generate reviews, but it will help get my book onto sites that I wouldn’t be able to get onto on my own. And that’s worth way more that $55.

If you’re an author and have found some great ways to market, or sites that are super helpful, leave me a comment. I’d love to hear from you.

 

Excerpt from The Wolf King’s Bride

Just to give you a sense of the novel, below is an excerpt of an exchange between fated mates, Kellan and Nora. I have to say, despite his highhandedness, I’m totally into this wolf.

Nora ran for the door and Kellan caught her by the waist. “I don’t think so, love.”

She clawed and scratched at him, using her combat training to try and get free. Her father was in danger. He needed help.

Kellan was bemused by his wife’s strength. She managed to score her fingernails across the side of his face. She drew blood and Kellan was half-proud of her.

In his stupor over witnessing her abilities, he must have hesitated, because she landed a hard knee to his kidney. Kellan grunted, but did not let go. He was the strongest wolf in the pack. His little mate was no match for him.

He carried her to the bed and held her down with one hand. He reached for his belt on the floor and his kidney suffered another blow.

Despite his efforts to avoid it, his cock hardened. He made note to revisit this in the future. Battling with her in bed was something he wanted to explore.

A punch to his mouth was enough to dampen his lust. He growled, seizing her wrists and slamming them above her head.

Holding them with his left hand, he looped the belt around them with his right. Nora was bucking like a madwoman, so he flung one leg over to straddle her ribs as he tightened the restraints.

It took longer than it should have. Nora was a skilled fighter. Yet another secret withheld from him.

“There,” he proclaimed once she was secured to the bed. Her feet were still loose, but he didn’t think she could get her arms free.

“Please, don’t do this, Kellan. My father … please!”

“Nora, calm yourself. I will find him. Did you think I would ignore the vision? I may be furious with him, but I’ll not ignore my father-in-law’s need for help. Trust me to do what is necessary.”

“But I can track him. The earth, it will tell me where he is.”

“As will my nose. Do not worry. I will handle it.”

“Don’t you dare leave me like this, Kellan.”

He ignored Nora as he started to dress, then thought better of it. He would leave the castle in wolf form, so he could track Edward.

“I will return as soon as I can.”

Kellan bent to kiss Nora. Instead of allowing it, she tried to hit his forehead with her own.

“Woman, will you calm down?” Kellan did not want to get his nose broken.

“How could you? Are you trying to ensure you’ve earned my abhorrence? Because I can assure you it’s working,” she seethed.

Kellan recoiled at the vehemence in her words. “No. Do not say that.”

“How could I not? You do not listen to me. You have no regard for me. You think of me as a witch. Do not pretend that you’re not disappointed I’m not a she-wolf. I bet if I was wolf you would let me go to my father. Instead, you’ve tied me to your bed like a damned animal.”

“You are tied to our bed, so I can ensure your safety, Nora. I will be gone from the castle and you refuse to stay put. I cannot concentrate on whatever your father is facing if I am worried about you. You are my mate. Nothing is more important to me than you. Do you hear me? Nothing. I care not that you are an elemental. I shouldn’t have called you a witch. I am sorrier than you could possibly know. My anger got the best of me. It won’t happen again. Just as you will not lie to me again. Mates do not lie to one another. Ever. I am hurt that you could do it so easily. But we’ll discuss it later. I have to go.”

Kellan had his hand on the door handle when Nora landed her final blow.

“I may be your mate, but you are not mine. I am Gwydion. We don’t have mates.”

He bowed his head as his heart filled with more sorrow than he had ever known. He took a calming breath, wanting to ward off the reaction he was having to Nora’s harsh words, but the grief inside him was too big to hide.

Kellan turned his head towards his wife, eyes wet from the enormity of his heartache.

Nora was shocked to see tears forming in Kellan’s eyes. One spilled and mixed with the blood from the scratches on his face. The ones Nora had put there only a moment before.

“I may not have your heart, Nora. But you have mine. You can wound it easily. Yet, I give it to you, freely, with no expectation of anything in return. I’ll endure your hatred to ensure your safety. For this, I’ll not apologize.”

With that, Kellan exited the bed chamber, leaving behind the only thing he had ever truly held onto—hope that his mate loved him.

For info and links on ordering The Wolf King’s Bride, click here.

Welcome!

Salutations, Universe. Welcome to my author website. Please have patience while I figure out this thing we call life. As we all do, I’ve got a lot going on. I mean, I’m trying to balance work, writing, a household, and molding two little beings into mine own image. They’re resisting, so it’s a lot for me (yes, Mom, that’s a joke…sorta).

I thank you for your visit and hope to see you around the digital world.

~C.A.