Ginger Voight's Blog, page 19

Love Plus One Re-Release

Like I said in the April Newsletter, I will be revising some of my older books for re-release. This starts with my novel, LOVE PLUS ONE, which was my best-selling title before the GROUPIE phenomenon hit. It remains a personal favorite of mine, so I was excited to get back into it and dig around. I also discovered there were some missed opportunities first time around. When you are a young writer, you tend to dance up to the line and then stop. Experience will take you tap-dancing right over that line, and that's where the true mastery comes in.

Needless to say, I'm excited to bring it to you all dressed up and purty. It even has a new cover.



LOVE PLUS ONE is where we meet Jake, Shannon and Jorge for the first time. If you've read the GROUPIE, FIERCE or FULLERTON FAMILY trilogies, you're already familiar with these characters. Here's your chance to get to know their story and see how the books in my universe all fit together.

LOVE PLUS ONE will be exclusive on Amazon for 90 days before I bring it back to Barnes and Noble, Apple, et al, so I can offer you discounts and freebies through Amazon. If you are a blogger who wants to review it, send your request to admin@gingervoight.com for a copy.

Here are the author notes on the book. Enjoy!

I wrote LOVE PLUS ONE as a protest of sorts. I’ve been plus-sized since elementary school, and even though I didn’t see any protagonists or heroines in contemporary romantic fiction that looked like me, I still managed to have a fairly active love life almost from the time I decided I wanted one.

Yet if I found any overweight characters introduced in romance novels, they generally played second fiddle to the protagonist. Their extra weight proved fodder for comic relief or a negative characterization tool, making the female less sympathetic.

Eventually I woke up to this subliminal message that suggested one had to be perfect to be romanced by the handsome prince charming, but not before succumbing to it myself.

In 1995 I finished my first “romance” novel, PICTURE POSTCARDS. I had leaned heavily on this ‘standard,’ mirroring all those stories I had read as an impressionable young girl. I made my protagonist blindingly beautiful and perfect in every way – physically speaking – because I bought into the notion that was what it took to find love in a romance novel. Imagine my surprise when I was told by publishers that she wasn’t relateable. It was a fair criticism given I couldn’t relate to her either as I had never had the experience of being blindingly beautiful or perfect in every way. I wrote what I thought would “fit into” the romance genre, rather than out of my own experiences, and this rendered my protagonist one-dimensional.

Ultimately I shelved the project, but the critique stayed with me. I wasn’t sure how to “write what I know” when my experiences with romance didn’t resemble anything out of a paperback novel, no matter how many of them I read. Yet I knew what love was, I knew how to manage long-term relationships. How was I supposed to convey this in my own voice, when most books out there spoke a completely different language?

Like LOVE PLUS ONE’S heroine, Shannon, I had to step out of the shadows and discover my voice was one that deserved to be heard. My stories were worth sharing – and were completely relatable for the average American woman, who resembles size-12 Shannon more than the beautiful, perfect (read: slender) heroines I had always read about.

By 2007, when I wrote LOVE PLUS ONE, I was ready to tackle a protagonist who wasn’t so perfect, since I myself was imperfect. I wanted to show what my experiences were finding my own prince charming, where I would find love and acceptance from a romantic hero who could love me for all my traits, not just some number on a scale. I also vented about all those back-biting beauties who played nice to the fat girl for their own self-serving purposes. Many felt I was no threat to the men they wanted to pursue and therefore easily discarded – and this proved especially toxic when I dared to believe I could get the guy in question.

Shannon’s insecurity that I describe in the book has also come to represent my own unsteady steps toward this acceptance in my own mind. I dared to stand against mainstream media and proclaim that girls who are imperfect, who represent those outside the norm, can be beautiful, can be desired, and can be loved.

That is Shannon’s journey in LOVE PLUS ONE, but it was ultimately mine as well. Apparently it is a message that resonates; it is the top selling book I’ve published, nearly double that of my second best seller. The most rewarding part of the process is when a reader tells me how much the book touches her, and how much she relates to Shannon’s journey.

I’ll let the Danielle Steels of the world write about thin, blindingly beautiful heroines. I prefer those heroines who are beautifully, wonderfully, imperfect. They’re much more fun to write. And I’m convinced they are completely lovable, because I love them completely.

Here's some music to set the mood, it factors into a key scene later on in the book. ;)

April Newsletter

First of all, a BIG thank you to everyone buying and reading the Fullerton Family Saga. Even months after the release, you keep these books either in or near the Top 100 for Sagas on Amazon, and I'm continually amazed by all the support this series is getting. You all seriously rock my world and I can't thank you enough.

You might have noticed that some older titles are no longer available for sale on either Amazon or Barnes and Noble, etc. I have taken down some of the earlier books to revise, repackage and resubmit. They will come back online slowly, through the Kindle Direct program first, so that I can offer more deals to the public with reduced prices and free reads through Amazon. The first such title to get this treatment is "Love Plus One," which will be available within the coming days, so keep a lookout. I'll announce either on my Facebook author page or Twitter (or both,) so make sure you follow me so you can be updated on all the latest news.

For those of you waiting on new books, progress is going along better than expected for The Leftover Club. I had pushed back the publication date until August, but things are going so well we actually might have a much earlier date. It's a book where I take some chances, go a little further than I have in previous books, get a little more graphic in the more liberally written sex scenes, so for those of you who ever wished I'd push that envelope, Roni Lawless and her gang are ready to give you a little bit more of what you want.



I'm also starting a new trilogy to be published in its entirety by the end of the year. The STORM series will center on bikers this time around. I came up with the story in 1989, when I was homeless and living out of my car in Los Angeles. The mood and tone will reflect this grittier reality, taking a break from the more glamorous tales I love to write. This book was largely influenced by my first husband, who was, in fact, a biker, and introduced me to my fair share of "guy" flicks back in the day. STORM is sort of my informal protest, and that's really the only clue you're going to get. This story will have a little bit of everything poured into the mix. I'm going to mix genres again with sex and romance amidst a contemporary thriller where the stakes are life and death as an unknown culprit picks off Hollywood's most vulnerable. This is the song that inspired the story, just a little taste to get you in the mood.



I can't WAIT for y'all to meet MJ. S'all I'm sayin.



For anyone who wants to meet me or get a book signed, I'm currently finalizing a five-stop tour starting this summer and going all the way to summer 2015. I should have more details by the May newsletter, but Texas, Oklahoma, Arizona and Michigan and Toronto? Get ready! I'm comin' for ya.

Finally I've figured out how to handle the conundrum of how much of a warning I need to put on the sales descriptions for my books. Since I write intense material for particular type of audience, I started putting disclaimers on books that stepped outside genre norms. The first, of course, was the Groupie Trilogy:



HEAs? Eh. Lots of sex frequent and fast? Eh. You buy my books, ya takes ya chances. I write stories, not formulas. The only guarantee you'll ever get from me is that if someone tells me I can't do something, it will make me want to do it. I like to twist expectations around. I find this fun. If you're a reader of mine you already know this, and most of you have told me time and again how much you like this approach and find it refreshing to the same ol' cookie-cutter template that repeats ad nauseam in a glut of other books.

I write brain candy escapism, but with enough realism to punch you in the gut. And that's the way it is going to stay, which, really, is warning enough. Some folks will like it. Some folks will hate it. That's how it works for everyone, and no specific warnings seem to minimize the damage.

Some folks won't read my books, and I'm OK with that. Some folks will be terrified to read my books. I'm even more OK with that. A writer recently told me that she wanted her readers scared as shit when they opened the first page of her novels.

I like that. This gives her liberty to take them anywhere and do anything. As a reader, I find that exciting. I'm more apt to read her books now because of it.

I ain't scared. Turn off the lights, start up the ride; let's DO this.

Since many readers are story purists like me, who want to go into a book without any spoilers of any kind, I've decided that a generic disclaimer works best for the kind of material I produce, rather than individual warnings on specific titles. I'm gradually adding the following warning for all my books written for an adult audience:

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER

This author writes books that are written for a mature audience. Uncomfortable situations can and will be discussed unflinchingly and without apology, including those sociopolitical in nature. Many of these stories are written to be sex-positive, so sex is approached in a forthright manner, even in risque subjects such as triangles, cheating, polyamory and same-sex pairings. The frequency and intensity of these sex scenes depend SOLELY on the story being told, rather than formula or trend.

These stories are written to be angst-ridden. For sensitive readers, they may cause emotional triggers regarding abuse (sexual, domestic, emotional, religious,) disorders (eating and psychological,) and traumatic situations (up to and including death).

Most importantly, this writer does not heed rules that suggest "all books need a HEA." Books, in series especially, can involve cliffhangers.

If any of these are deal-breakers, caveat emptor.

(Basically, if you need a warning before you buy, don't buy. These are not the droids you were looking for.)

TAKE THREE!

Currently watching:

American Idol
The Big Bang Theory
Once Upon a Time


Currently reading:

George Orwell
Jennifer Weiner
Ray Bradbury


Currently loving:





Workout for Nerds!

See you in May!

Paying Dues.

Recently I caught Authors Anonymous, a movie about a group of aspiring writers that falls apart when one of them finally breaks into the business.



It speaks to the randomness of luck and how it plays a part in a creative professional's career. You can work and toil for years perfecting your craft, doing all the right things, but still... lightning has to strike for something to really catch. And there is no rhyme or reason to it at all. It's a matter of being in the right place at the right time, or getting to the right person... to fight through all the gatekeepers until you find the one person who is going to open that door and let you through. Two equally talented individuals can start the race in exactly the same spot, but there is no guarantee that they'll get exactly the same breaks for exactly the same reasons.

That's why it's easy to get jealous or bitter sometimes just because of the randomness of it all. Even after you're published, there's no guarantee each book will sell. Some may collect dust for years, another may take off for reasons unknown. Stories have a life of their own and it's unpredictable from book to book which one is going to come with a little more pixie dust than the rest.

You just never know. And you never will. In order to make it in this business, you kind of have to be okay with that. According to a report in the Guardian, precious few writers will earn more than $100k a year, which means for the rest of us, for the majority of the time, are struggling.



I'm an old-school writer, whose dream began way before the current digital revolution. Every single writer who made it through the traditional publishing gauntlet had their stories to tell about paying their dues, being rejected time after time, as they struggled to make their dream a reality. Best-selling writers will tell you about a wall, drawer or folder full of rejection letters, sometimes for books that went on to be their breakout novels. I'll never forget my first manuscript I sent that I got back splashed with red ink on every page with a "thanks but no thanks, try again later."

That shit was soul-crushing, I won't lie. Many creative professionals battle inner demons, and it was enough to drive more than one of us to the brink on more than one occasion. After that first critical rejection, I shelved my manuscript and gave up on my dream to be a best-selling writer because clearly it wasn't in the cards.

But a writer writes, even if there's no one to read it. That's what makes it possible to get up after getting knocked on your ass, and try again even though you were told "no."

The digital revolution has made this process a whole lot easier because you don't have to spend months or years or decades trying to break down the door. There are no more gatekeepers to keep you from the audience you seek. Within a few keystrokes, you can go from "aspiring" writer to "published author," though there are still some traditionalists who feel that you didn't earn that title.

They want you to pay your dues, much like we had to back in the olden days.

They'll think you're not worthy to read if you're self-published because there was no gatekeeper to ensure that your book was quality enough to take its place in the marketplace.

Again, this doesn't quite take into consideration the random stroke of luck I was talking about earlier. Just because a book is rejected by traditional agents or publishers doesn't mean it's not good. It's just that they don't feel they can make enough profit off of it to justify the investment.

In the e-book age, writers take this investment on themselves and as a result we get a variety of stories for every kind of reader. Sure that means we get Bigfoot porn, but hey. To each their own.

There were plenty of shitty books being published way before self-publishing became the norm. Like I said, it is really all random.

The problem with this new era is that you often pay your dues AFTER you hit publish, when you're a public figure with eyes on you to see how you rise or fall. Some unlucky authors get a target on their back, the object of cyber-bullying because they dared to make themselves known to the world. It's one thing to open an email saying, "Thanks but no thanks." To get your shit reamed on Amazon or Goodreads by people determined to take you down when you haven't spent years toughening your resolve through the traditional gauntlet leaves you unprepared to bounce back.

For some, it is a dream-killer. I've seen more than one writer fall.

I recently read a goodbye post from an author who had decided it was no longer worth the pain to make her dream a reality. It broke my heart to read it. Something she felt so passionately about, something she had invested in several books that - ironically - ARE selling, wasn't giving her back the return on her emotional investment. I have a few preachy opinions on this, mostly it goes back to "demand what you're worth," (i.e., if you're selling more than 100 books a day on more than one title, stop undercutting your prices at $0.99. Raise to $2.99 and get your full 70% commission so you CAN afford to continue) but in the end it doesn't matter. This poor writer has pulled the plug on her dream because the dues owed were more than she wanted to pay.

I've heard it said that if you can do anything other than a creative career, you should. It has to hurt you more to give up the dream than pursue it. This is not an easy journey, even though it's easier now to break into the business.

Maintaining the career, THAT is the trick. Because you never stop paying your dues. For 98% of us, there's no sitting back on a white sandy beach, our feet up, a tropical drink in our hand and living easy. It's hard work, especially for self-pubbed authors who pretty much have to wear every hat as a publisher/writer/agent.

Even with decades under my belt, I'm still paying dues. One book will sell pretty well, while another one won't see the light of day. A reader will get all excited about one title, but move on to the next big thing and forget all about me and my book. Some months I'll see more money than I've ever made in my life, the next I'm planning my budget around Ramen noodles and juggling which bill to pay and which to put off. It's feast or famine with every single book. According to the statistics, this is the reality for most writers. Despite the thousands of new indie writers who hit "Publish", nearly 80% make less than $1000 a year.

Some will tell you this is because indie books are crap, but more than 50% of traditionally published authors face the same reality. Most of us are not driving Audis, making movies, or creating lines around the block at book signings. If the criteria to call oneself an author depends on making one's living at the craft, then the vast majority of us are screwed.

In fact, I bet there are more people out there making more money selling books on how to sell books than actual fiction novels being sold. There's a scam for every desperate author out there who dreams of the day they will see their name on the New York Times Best Seller list. (Hint: If someone promises they can make your dream a reality if you buy their product, read their book, attend their seminar, especially if they've never read your work and don't have any inkling what you can do as a writer, generally they're full of shit. Like I said above, there is no rhyme or reason, no formula ... it's all the luck of the draw. Otherwise we'd ALL be getting 8-figure book deals.)

It's not easy. Bad reviews hurt. Your skin never gets thick enough to avoid the scars, no matter what the critics would have you believe. But these are the dues you pay to have the dream. Looking back, I'm glad for the olden days. They prepared me for the rejection, probably a little too well. Dipping my toe in the water, I was tempted to compromise myself in order to live the dream (i.e. making my living selling my work.) I gave away copies for free, I undercut my prices, I often was tempted to alter my stories to fit formulas that were more successful than others.

I've since given that up, because there's a couple of things you learn when you do pay your dues. You learn how much you want something... and you learn what you're willing to go through to get it.

Like Rocky says, you gotta be willing to take the hits.



The only real rule is this: Don't give up.

There are no shortage of miracles. You just have to stay in the game long enough to catch yours. The key is persistence, so sayeth the Master at 8:09 in the following clip:



Only you can decide what you're willing to do, what you are able to do. If Plan B is a viable option, then go for it. But if Plan B hurts, if you know it doesn't fit, then work the HELL out of plan A. Pay those dues until they pay off. It's worth it.

And so are you.

“I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who had practiced one kick 10,000 times.”― Bruce Lee

The tale of two brothers, and yes... I answer "why." (Spoiler Warning) #fullertonfamilysaga

On February 28, I released Enraptured, Book #3 in the Fullerton Family Saga. I stated from the beginning that one member of this powerful family would risk it all for love and meet a tragic end. I did this so that readers who might be sensitive to this kind of plot twist could avoid this series rather than be disappointed or let down.

It's a triangle, and triangles are going to disappoint someone somewhere along the line. Eventually the main character will choose, and the best an author can do is make that choice understandable, if not necessarily liked, by the audience.

That did not, however, influence my decision to include a tragic end for this particular character. His death was never meant to make an impossible choice easier.

The Fullerton Family Saga was always meant to be a triumph over tragedy. Most know that is because of the emotional place I was in when I wrote the book. I told you about losing my son, Brandon, and finding solace in a beautiful little boy named Jonathan Fullerton, who was an old soul whispering through the ages.

Because I was processing loss and grief in my own life, those things found their way into the book. This became the story I needed to tell, even though... at the time... I didn't realize why that was exactly.

After 19 years, I finally got the distance I needed to answer the one question I see repeated throughout reviews from devastated and heartbroken readers:

Why?

So I thought I'd answer that question in more detail for anyone who might be asking it.

SPOILER WARNING: If you have not read all three books, key plot points will be discussed below. Proceed with caution.

Drew and Alex Fullerton are dynamic brothers who embody very different characteristics. Drew is, without question, the alpha. He's strong, he's dynamic, he's exciting. He plays to win and takes what he wants. This is the kind of man we think of when we think of men in power. He's seductive and alluring, even though he probably shouldn't be. There's an exquisite danger in that. We know it's a bad idea to want these kinds of men, but despite our best intentions we find that we are succumbing to their charm and submitting to their will.

The other side to power is a certain ruthlessness and selfishness. In order for him to win, someone else must lose. To those driven to win at all costs, empathy is a liability. This was the message he was taught by an even more formidable father, who did his level best to beat any of these "weaker" characteristics out of his son so that he could succeed in the cutthroat world of international business.

Suffice it to say, Drew did some pretty shitty things, generally without apology. The first book ends with a rather shocking betrayal that sends our intrepid protagonist Rachel back to her safe, comfortable, normal world in Texas. This betrayal cuts so deep that she uncharacteristically ends up breaking a promise, which was previously unthinkable for our honorable heroine. To say she was leveled is putting it mildly, and this is a woman who had been brought to her knees and broken before, in unimaginable ways.

Book #2 follows her as she struggles to find her footing. She knows at this point that Drew, as he is, is not the partner she needs for a HEA. She attempts to think with her head and heed the warning signs she had previously discarded. She sees that Drew, as he is, is a broken little boy and an angry, entitled man who traded love for ownership and control.

But the heart wants what the heart wants, even when presented with a viable option.

Alex Fullerton is the antithesis of Drew. He is empathetic and sensitive, artistic and expressive. He's kind and loving and fiercely loyal, even when all these traits were derided by an abusive dad who pigeonholed him as weak. This caused him to withdraw behind a gruff bravado of snark and contempt. This was a facade he had to maintain his entire adult life, especially as he suffered some heavy emotional blows of his own. His strength didn't come from controlling the wind, but from weathering the storm. Not exactly a trait historically prized by the Fullerton family. As a result, he settled into the role of black sheep, shunning what they had spent generations building and loathing the ruthless drive of his ancestors to win at any costs.

This includes his brother. There is no love lost between these men when Rachel enters their lives. The Fullerton family had everything in the world, but the one thing their family had been missing was unconditional love. Only her strength and her dedication could reconcile these two brothers and heal what had long been broken.

This was the original plot I crafted so many years ago, and it never occurred to me to change it. I would tell this story because it was a story I felt I needed to tell, as is, despite the risks. And I knew going into it that in order to tell this story correctly, I couldn't hold anything back. So even though one of these characters found a loyal fan base that begged me to spare his life, I knew I couldn't alter this course.

Which brings us back to the "why."

When I sat down to write a preface for the third book, essentially sharing with all of you how this story came to be and why your continual, passionate support for this series means so much to me, it hit me like a ton of bricks that this book was not just therapy for a bereaved mother. Drew and Alex proved to be unintentional metaphors to mentally work through the tumultuous relationship I had with my first husband, Daniel Rutherford.

I met Daniel when I was 17, and he left me thunderstruck. He was strong and he was tough, with enough of a gooey center to be everything you'd want in a hero for your happily ever after. Yeah, maybe he was more of an anti-hero, but I idled somewhere between complicated and chaos. I wasn't intimidated by a challenge.

Yes, he was broken and yes, I thought I could fix him. And I loved him as passionately as I ever loved anyone, determined to break through the walls and save him from himself with nothing but my love alone.

As the years passed, tough turned into abusive, strong turned into controlling. And I watched this man, who had the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known before or since, become hateful, hurtful and terrifying with little to no provocation.

In 1994, seven years into our relationship, we learned that Daniel suffered from bipolar disorder with schizophrenia and psychotic episodes. And yes, it was often every bit as bad as it sounds. Many times it felt as though I was living with two very different men who just so happened to look alike, and I never knew who I was going to deal with day to day.

Dan was equally tormented by his lifelong affliction and often called that dark side of him His Shadow. There were times when I could look at him and see a stranger staring back at me.

By the time I gave birth to and subsequently buried Brandon, Dan was on a mission to figure out a way to manage his illness. It was not an easy journey. Diagnosing the mental illness proved far easier than figuring out how to treat it. And I was working through a lot of that in the book without even realizing it. Once we realized that his behavior had a legitimate medical reason, there was no way to "hate" him for much of the pain my family endured when his illness raged undiagnosed and out of control.

I had to find another way to handle that confusing duality I had lived with for all those years, where I fluctuated between loving him and hating him.

In the brothers Drew and Alex, I could divide Dan's personality into two different characters, to separate the ruthlessness from the vulnerability, the need to control and the fear to run away from everything. I could see the weaknesses and the appeal of both types of men from an objective point of view. I understood the seductive appeal of the strong alpha who took me well in hand and guided me from a girl to a woman. I also saw the appeal of the wounded, vulnerable rogue, the bad boy with a heart of gold that I felt hellbent to save, making me stronger in the process.

In real life, yes, I did give this man a HEA he didn't expect, even though our marriage didn't last to the end of his life. We started as friends and sixteen years later we ended as friends, and I was devastated by his premature death at age 43. But I really can't pat myself on the back too much for the changes he made and the man he became. Dan remained his own hero all the way through as he battled these terrifying illnesses, with the silent strength that had attracted me all those years before. He was the who sacrificed it all for his family and his children. He stepped aside and supported me when I married again, to ensure that his children had a strong father figure who didn't wrestle with the same kinds of demons. He took very powerful medication that ultimately shortened his life as it aged him at an accelerated rate and ravaged him physically.

It made those final scenes with Drew that much harder to write.

But this was my story to tell, you see. I watched as Dan finally defeated his shadow to be the kind of man he always wanted to be but was afraid he never could be. After actions that were often irredeemable, he pulled himself up and gave us a legacy beyond the pain and the abuse. It was one of strength... of family...

Of love.



So this is why my fictional saga ended the way that it did. It was always meant to, even if I didn't realize why at the time. My subconscious was hard at work, processing my own experiences through these fictional characters that came from a place so buried I didn't even recognize it until all these years later. It's been rather mind-blowing to figure this out, honestly. When you study literature, you learn about things authors employ to tell a deeply faceted story, regarding theme and imagery and metaphor. It never dawned on me any of this could happen accidentally.

After several people wrote to me to plead Drew's case, there were times when I wondered if I could change this ending and give everyone the happily ever after they wanted. But that was not this story. It would have cheapened it to tell it any other way. It shattered my heart to write those scenes, to let Drew go, to face the pain I knew all too well from my own life. But it was the right thing to do. Anything else would have made me feel like a fraud, and now I see why. I'd have been lying about my own personal truth.

And I understand that some folks are sad or disappointed. As someone who lived it, believe me when I tell you that it's a grief I managed every single day I watched the sons he left behind grow into the men he once wanted to be. With every birthday, every holiday, every milestone... I longed to rewind the hands of time so that Dan could sit right beside me and share each and every triumph. It is unfair all that he missed, and all that we missed with him gone. But that is life, isn't it? It is filled with tragedy as well as triumph, and all we can ever do as artists is render this pain into something beautiful wherever we can. Sometimes it redefines the idea of Happily Ever After, but it steals none of its joy. In one of my favorite Doctor Who episodes, "Vincent and the Doctor," Amy is saddened to find that her influence on a tragic historical figure was not enough to change his fate. Our wise old Doctor tells her this:

"The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant."



This story demanded to be told so that Drew added to his pile the only good things that matter.

Drew Fullerton died a hero for his family, after finally learning exactly what a gift that was. He was no longer in that lonely room. In those final moments, he had everything he could ever hope to have, but often thought were out of his reach. He had the love of a good woman, the promise of his children and the admiration of his brother. It was everything he had been denied his entire life, the consequences of trying to manipulate his life instead of submitting himself to it. I restored everything to him by the time he took that last breath. He was truly loved for all those things he had hidden from the world. This was his happy ending, and a legacy worth passing on to those he left behind.



I hope all this sheds some light on my creative choices, even if it wasn't the way you wanted the story to end. Trust me, I get it. Thank you to everyone who has read this saga and loved these characters. Thank you for taking this journey with me, trusting me to guide where I led, even if it was sometimes a dark and painful place. Your support and your kind words mean more than I could ever say.

And now you know why.

xoxo GV

#TBT: "The Leftover Club", my new book, takes us back in time.

As we're wrapping up the first three months of 2014 and, as such, putting to bed my newest angst-ridden trilogy about the Fullerton family, I've turned my attention to my next book, "The Leftover Club."

I was actually trying to enjoy a two-week vacation because writing three books in four months is a helluva lot of work. I was worn out, burned out and thought I'd take two weeks solid to get caught up on my own neglected reading list. I made it to book 3 before my plans were effectively circumvented. Apparently my Muse kind of likes a breakneck schedule now, and wouldn't stop pestering me until I finally relented and typed an outline. After that came the prologue, then the first chapter... and so on and so on.

And the reason I keep going is because I'm having a blast. "The Leftover Club" was meant to be a little more fun than most of my angst-fests. There's angst, there's always angst, and nothing is quite as angsty as unrequited love as an awkward teenager. But in the midst of all of that is a fond remembrance of what it was like to come of age in the iconic 1980s.



"The Leftover Club" is about a group of friends who meet in high school in 1985. They have one thing in common: they all lust after the cutest boy in school (you know the one.) The reason they have to start their exclusive club is they know they have absolutely no chance of ever landing him because they are weird outcasts who do not fit into any high school norms.

It was the book I was born to write.

I didn't acclimate well in high school because I didn't fit in, and several uncomfortable situations make their way into the book. As do many of my crushes from my past, from the boy I fell in love with the first day of first grade, to the older guys I began to chase with gusto once I knew how to properly wield the weapons I was naturally given. That's where the biggest problem of the book, not landing the boy of my dreams, required a little creative license.

Truthfully there was no boy in high school for me because I really didn't like boys my age. This was mostly because they didn't like me. I stood out like a sore thumb because I had the misfortune of developing as early as the 4th grade. I was taller, broader, and weird sort of things started popping out and drawing attention to themselves before any of my classmates were prepared for it.



This made me the butt of their jokes from grade 5 on, when a notable group of idiots swore that I had been held back a year.



In seventh grade, probably the most awkward of all my school years, a popular (and cute) ninth-grader decided to flirt with me as part of an ongoing joke. He'd call out his little comments in the middle of the lunch area in front of a crowd full of his peers. They found it HIL-arious how flummoxed this rendered me.



Fun times. :/

By the time we were in high school, I was over trying to impress any of them. My 42-36-44 figure remained a liability for most guys. They had their own image to protect, and their own cliques to maintain.



Essentially Claire was right. Come Monday morning, the popular kids would go back to being popular, and the geeky, awkward outcasts would slink right back into the shadows.



It truly was survival of the fittest and has remained so through every era that followed. Sure, dorks and weirdos and outcasts find their footing as they grow into brilliant and creative adults. But you actually had to get through those torturous four years first.



Universally, this hasn't changed much, so I felt confident that I could write a story that would resonate with readers of all ages, with enough pop culture references to give a little somethin' somethin' extra for ladies my age. With the NA market exploding, there are plenty of new stories every week about girls in their late teens and early twenties, in high school and in college, in various stages of emerging womanhood and the sexual and romantic exploration that goes with that. There's nothing quite like the intensity of first love or young love. But I thought it'd be a hoot to write about women who find love, sex and romance a little later in life, with the jaded romanticism that followed us from the 1990s into the 21st Century.

Like my generation needs any excuse at all to go retro. We've been waxing nostalgic since the early 2000s, courtesy of VH1.







"The Leftover Club" covers it all by skipping back in forth through three distinct eras... the 1980s, the 1990s and the 2000s. This allows me to explore love as a virginal teenager, a 20-something hellbent on taking over the world and a 30-something divorced, single mom who has finally made her peace with the fact that life is messy and doesn't always end up the way we want.

I'm a linear thinker, so I was intimidated by the idea of telling a story in various stages of flashback. I like things straight and true, which makes my passionate love affair with Doctor Who an anomaly. I constantly have to ask my husband what the heck is going on just to keep my frame of reference.

But having lived through these eras, and these significant periods in my own life, writing the book is a bit like going through a box of old photos. Needless to say, the vacation ended after four days and I should have a new book for you all by late April.

Here's a lil taste to hold you over.



Prologue

June 20, 2008

I guess you could say the Leftover Club was officially founded in 1985, though some of us were informal members much earlier than that. I, myself, earned my rightful place as President of our club in May of 1979, many years before I met other key members of our exclusive little group. It started with a shy kiss on a dusty, neglected playground with rusty, broken equipment. The only thing that worked was a chipped and faded merry-go-round.

A fitting metaphor, looking back.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

My name is Roni Lawless, and I’m proud to say that I belonged to one of the greatest generations of the 20th Century. I was there at the birth of MTV, the advent of home video games, VCRs and microwaves, and I learned some valuable mechanical skills by taking apart and putting back together an otherwise uncooperative Rubik’s Cube.

(It was a puzzle and I found a way to solve it. In my book, that counted.)

We weren’t afraid of no ghosts because we knew exactly who to call at the first hint of slime. We knew where to find the beef, and delighted in dancing raisins. We were oft-thanked connoisseurs of watered down wine coolers way before we were legally old enough to consume them, even though we were the generation courted to “Just Say No.” We were the footloose, sweater-sporting Cosby kids and almost every single one of us, at one point or another, wore a Mullet without the good sense to be embarrassed about it. We also wore parachute pants without a hint of irony, and proclaimed “RELAX” boldly across stark white T-shirts accented with obnoxious, neon-colored accessories.

We lived in an era where space exploration became routine, even mundane. Computers had shrunk from entire rooms to a desktop, putting cutting edge technology right at our fingertips courtesy of three-to-five-inch floppy disks. We watched the Berlin wall come down, and were witness to the collapse of the Soviet Union in the wake of the Cold War. We read Stephen King and VC Andrews by the stack and inhaled anything the great John Hughes created, like he crafted each and every story just for us. (And I like to believe that he did.)

We were too young to be adults, but smart enough to be self-aware, which made us older than our years. Our era was one of great change, and we were witness to it in our music and in our entertainment.

I, in particular, nursed a pretty healthy addiction to Bloom County cartoons that many of my classmates really didn’t even get. It was the one of many such obsessions that set me apart from the crowd at an early age.

As we raced after the ever-changing technology and social paradigm shifts that proclaimed greed was good even for working girls, we kids of the 1980s were taught that we could have anything and everything we wanted.

Too bad it was a big fat lie.

When I was sixteen I had only one real dream… and it was shared with hundreds of other girls (and a notable subsection of guys) at Hermosa Vista High. I wanted Dylan Fenn, the most popular boy in school. He was cool. He was hot. And if he liked you, you became the most important person on campus. Well, next to him anyway.

Actually, if we’re going to get technical, I wanted Dylan to want me. Maybe then I wouldn’t be the overweight, awkward, pimply-faced teenager who didn’t fit in with any of the major cliques. I related most to The Breakfast Club’s Allison, who showed up at detention just because she didn’t have anything else better to do.

Dylan was my Andrew.

Twenty years later and I’m still waiting to wear his varsity jacket.

Tonight is my high school’s twenty year reunion, a fitting celebration for the Class of ’88, the Fighting Jaguars of Hermosa Vista. This California school had produced celebrities of varying degrees. Among our prestigious alumni were actors, musicians, business titans, tech wizzes, aspiring politicians and even a few porn stars.

Of them all, Dylan Fenn was still a notable figure in our school’s history. He never feared being noticed, and was teetering on the precipice of his own personal fame and fortune as an emerging actor, something he was voted “most likely to” way back in 1987, after he starred in his first play.

And then there was me, plain ol’ Roni Lawless, a divorced, single mom, still struggling to fit in, in my chosen profession, with my testy, teenaged daughter… and even in the club I had unwittingly founded all those years ago with a kiss on a dare.

There, dear friends, is the root of my problem.

The reason I don’t fit in is because I’m a fraud. I’m not now, nor ever was, what I always pretended to be. I have a secret, a really, really big one. And it was a secret involving the object of our many desires, which meant I was a liar to the people I had always called my friends.

And tonight… for the first time in a long time, I knew it was time to set the record straight.



"The Leftover Club" coming April, 2014! Click below to add to your TBR now. :)

Two Days till ENRAPTURED!! Exclusive Excerpt (Beware Spoilers)

Exclusive excerpt below, but SPOILER WARNING if you have not read the first two books.



"You are an amazing little boy, Jonathan. I think I may be the luckiest stepmom in the whole wide world.”

He squeezed my fingers. “You deserve to be happy, Rachel,” he said softly. “Mom,” he amended even softer.

I pulled him into a hug and he cuddled beside me on the bed. “You make me happy,” I told him as I kissed the top of his head. “Every day, in every way.”

“Good,” he said. “Because I have a favor.”

“Oh?”

“I actually have one more surprise. But I need your help pulling it off.”

This piqued my interest. Before I could ask, he hopped off the bed and darted from the room. When he returned, he was carrying an acoustic guitar. He grinned as he perched back on the bed.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Uncle Alex gave it to me,” he said. “So I could play for the baby.”

Tears sprang into my eyes. It was such an Alex thing for him to do. “How can I help, Jonathan? I don’t know how to play.”

“Alex does,” he said softly. “He was teaching me.” He plucked at the strings. “After Mom broke up with Derek, she and I went to stay with Alex. You know how he plays for Max?” I nodded. “I told him I wished he could play for the new baby and he suggested I should. We started lessons that night. I don’t think Mom was very happy about it,” he added. “She and Uncle Alex fought a lot before she finally left for New York with some of her friends.”

“They fought?” I repeated, and he nodded. “What about?” He shrugged. I knew he knew, but he didn’t want to tell me. “Jonathan.”

He looked away. “You.”

I gulped. “I see.”

“Mom thinks that she’ll lose custody now that you married my dad. She blamed Alex for bringing you back out to California. She said he ruined everything. That he always ruins everything. He tried to defend you, but that only made her madder. She said awful things,” he added with a slight shudder. “He bunked with me and Max until she finally made other arrangements.”

“I see,” I said again.

“Things were better after she left. That’s when we did another campout. He started teaching me guitar. It was great,” he drifted off sadly. “Like last summer.”

I nodded. Last summer had been pretty great despite it all. “I still don’t know what you need me to do, Jonathan.”

“You brought Dad and Alex together last year,” he said hopefully. “You can do it again.”

I closed my eyes and rested my head back on the pillows. If only he knew. “Jonathan…”

“It can be good, you know it can,” he urged. “You can fix it. Like you fixed me. Like you fixed Dad.”

I chuckled mirthlessly. “It’s not that simple, sweetie. No one can just change anyone else. They have to want to change.”

His bright blue eyes bore into mine. “Make them want to.” Before I could say anything, he went on. “You’re a Fullerton now. This is your family, too. We can make it right. I know we can. Please.”

I sighed. “I’m not going to make this promise, Jonathan. I can’t. But,” I added when his chin fell, “I’ll do what I can.”

He smiled. “That’s all any of us can do. Right?”

“Right,” I agreed. I cuddled under the blanket as I listened to him play the simple tune, “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” I drifted to sleep thinking of cozy campfires, harmonicas and two little boys torn apart by decades of pain.

And just like Sisyphus, the boulder once again landed at my feet at the bottom of the hill.

Fullerton Family Saga Poll + Giveaway

Less than eight days to go until ENRAPTURED releases. You can even pre-order for your Nook!

In honor of the upcoming release, I'm going to offer another giveaway of the complete series, ebook format! That's all three books, Enticed, Entangled AND Enraptured. All you have to do is to tell me in the comments which Team you're on, #TeamDrew, #TeamAlex, #TeamJonathan or #TeamRachel. Whose HEA matters most to you?

I'll run the giveaway until 2/22/14 at midnight.

Good luck!

ENRAPTURED sneak peek!

Only 9 days to go!! Here's a sneak peek at the third and final book in the Fullerton Family Saga, as well as a few songs from my writing playlist to get you in the mood. ;)

SPOILER WARNING:

The following excerpt contains possible story spoilers if you have not yet Entangled, book 2 of the Fullerton Family Saga.



I was still awake, and still livid, when Drew came to bed closer to midnight. He shrugged out of his shirt. “Such disapproval,” he murmured. “What exactly did I do now?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around your using Jonathan to lure Alex into some kind of trap.”

“I told you. It’s only a trap if he’s doing something wrong.”

“Whatever. In the future, leave Jonathan out of it.”

He cocked an eyebrow as he stood next to the bed, his hands on his hips. “Excuse me?”

“Whatever is between you and Alex has nothing to do with Jonathan. He’s a little boy torn in two with loyalty and affection for the both of you. I refuse to stand by and allow you to squander his good faith and his trust to make some kind of point.”

Anger sharpened his features as he stared down at me. “Allow me?” he repeated. “And who, exactly, gave you authority to question me on how I parent my son?”

“You did,” I told him. “You wanted Jonathan to have a mother, and now he has one. If you think you’re going to use him like some wadded up piece of tissue paper, you’re going to have to get through me first. I’m not just your paid flunky anymore. I’m your wife, and the mother of your children. This family will not run like your business. We work together – honestly and openly – or not at all. Got it?”

His eyes never left my face as he slipped out of his pants and crawled into bed. He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me close, his mouth hovering just an inch over my own. “There’s that fire I missed,” he murmured. His mouth descended toward my own, but I resisted, pushing back against his hand while I met his gaze dead on.

“Got it?” I repeated.

A smile broke apart on his face. “Absolutely,” he answered.

“Good,” I said. “Goodnight, Drew.”

I slipped from his hand and turned my back to him, turned off the light and disappeared under the covers.

Favorite Romantic Scenes + Valentine's Day Giveaway!

It is the most romantic day of the year, or so advertisers with flowers, chocolate, cards and lingerie would like us to believe. Since I am a proud purveyor of all things romance, I thought we'd have a little fun to honor this auspicious day.

It probably goes without saying that I put the "chick" in chick flick. I love movies that make me feel something, whether it steals my heart or kicks me right in the gut. This means a plethora of romantic titles litter my list of favorite movies. In today's blog I'll share my Top 5 Romantic Scenes OF ALL TIME (or at least this week.) If you share yours in the comments, I'll pick a winner by Sunday night (2/16/14) to get ALL THREE BOOKS of my new Fullerton Family Saga series. (That's right, even the not-yet-released ENRAPTURED.)

How's that for a Valentine's Day Gift? All the romance, none of the sugar rush!

Here we go:

5.) "Enchanted"

Disney knocked it out of the park with its live-action/animated fairy tale romance, "Enchanted." This movie poked fun at Disney's long history of pretty princesses and insta-love, using New York City and its modern cynicism as a surprising backdrop.

The juxtaposition worked very well.

It stars the charming Amy Adams, who took the saccharin sweet Giselle and made her palatable. I, myself, developed a girlcrush on her over the course of the movie, so naturally I felt her pain when she was faced with a very unique conundrum for a Disney princess. Does she stick with her dreamy, sing-y, one-dimensional Prince Edward and her equally one-dimensional concept of true love? Or does she follow her heart where it leads, to a cynical divorce lawyer/single dad who long ago gave up the idea of "Happily Ever After"?

In this scene, she arrives at a ball to make her choice at last. It is a scene that is deeply layered, with everyone else dressed in their fairy tale garb while Giselle embraces her new world in "reality." The pain of this reality drives the emotion in this scene. We can see just how close - and how far - she is from the man of her dreams. Makes me cry *every* single time, and also inspired a pivotal scene in Entangled.



4.) "Hairspray"

There's a lot to like about the 2007 musical based on a John Waters cult classic. It stars an atypical heroine who dares to be plus-sized and simply not give a damn. She's not about to let her size, or more specifically what others think about her size, stop her from chasing, and catching, her dreams. It also tackles a serious topic like segregation and racism in 1960s Baltimore, but with biting wit and a killer, cheerful, empowering soundtrack for every single person who has ever felt like an outcast. Queen Latifah is regal. James Marsden and Zac Efron are dreamy. Nikki Blonsky is resplendent and John Travolta nails it as Edna Turnblad, the larger-than-life character who has no idea just how awesome she is.

There's so much awesome in this movie, it is hard to narrow it down to any one scene. Edging ahead of the rest is the scene where Christopher Walken in his weird brilliance romances his wife, Edna, with the kind of painfully funny honesty you can only master after years of marriage. "You're fat and old, but honey - boring, you ain't!"

The scene is an homage to grand musicals set amidst the mundane of married life. It is a love song for all of us who have lasted beyond the flush of new love and are in it for the long haul.

Best of all, two men managed to steal away with one of the sweetest scenes - ever - on screen.



3.) "Sixteen Candles"

When it comes to epic, romantic endings, three movies tie for my personal #1: "Sleepless in Seattle," "Where the Heart Is" and the John Hughes teen classic, "Sixteen Candles." Each ended on the perfect romantic high note, but the nod for this list goes to the incomparable John Hughes for his awkward 1980s fairy tale where the shy girl finally gets the boy of her dreams.

If you were that kind of shy girl mostly ignored by the boys you mooned over day after day in class, then it was the perfect dream come true, which John nailed with just the right amount of subtlety.

Sigh. They just don't make 'em like this anymore.



2.) "Dirty Dancing"

One that lands on both the "sexiest" and "most romantic" lists is the pivotal scene in "Dirty Dancing," where young ingenue Baby dares to act on her growing attraction for the epic hotness that was Johnny Castle/Patrick Swayze. One of the things that makes this scene so hot is that there is the underlying romance growing between them, which turns up the sexual tension even more. It was sweet, wonderful, delicious payoff.

I'm not sure they make love stories like this anymore either.



1.) "Up"

I'm a grown-ass woman and I'm not ashamed to say that I love Pixar. Like, passionately. I will opt to watch one of their movies rather than anything created for my particular age group, and I don't need a child to accompany me to do it. Of any production company, they consistently knock it out of the park with movies that appeal to all four quadrants, young and old, male and female. This has almost everything to do with the strength of their storytelling. They have genuine heart, and I have found myself reaching for tissue on more than one occasion over stories about lost fish, outgrown toys and the tender relationship between a child and her monster.

That being said, I didn't really know what to make of "Up" before we went to see it at the local drive-in in 2009. The trailer didn't necessarily turn me on. I was resigned to see it because that's what you do as a fan, you give every single thing your favorite creators create a shot, even if you're not completely sold on the concept. If your faith has been rewarded enough by your idols, it's a calculated risk at best... even if it is a fantastical story about an old man and a floating house.

Little did I know it was about much, much more than that. "Up" is possibly the most perfect love story of all time, and we all knew it less than 10 minutes into it. As the story unfolded about Carl and Ellie, I found myself *weeping* over a montage that had no dialogue at all. This is the epitome of "show, don't tell," a concept I often struggle with personally. Because of this, it is quite possibly the most beautiful montage ever created, and reminds me once again that I have so far to go to reach this level of excellence.

(Special nod also to the score, which uses the same tune at different tempos to match the mood.)

This collection of scenes encapsulates "till death do us part," with the ups and downs, humor, joy and sadness, that entails. I ask you, what could possibly be more romantic than a lifetime of love?

When I grow up, I want to write something as poignant and as lovely as this.



So I've shown you mine, now you show me yours. What are some of your favorite romance scenes/movies? Comment below and be entered to win ALL THREE BOOKS of the Fullerton Family Saga.

ENTICED: Author notes and back story, and a love letter from me to you.

Yesterday I released my nineteenth novel, "Enticed: Book 1 of the Fullerton Family Saga." It is the first book in a new series that I will publish in its entirety by March of this year. It's a big event professionally, and I'm really excited about it. I've been working extraordinarily hard on this project that is a lot more near and dear to me than people probably realize. In fact, it is a labor of love that began, ironically enough, nineteen years ago today.

"Enticed" and the series it belongs to are based on a standalone book I wrote in 1995. This was a life-changing year for me in a lot of ways. Much of the early 1990s had been tumultuous and chaotic, and probably the very reason I tend to write angst the way that I do. Those were dark days back then as I dealt with everything from homelessness to domestic abuse and marital infidelity. I understood what it was like to love two very different men at the same time, while juggling the responsibility and challenges of being a young mother. I was navigating life selfish and flawed and weak and confused and battered, but also determined, tenacious and relentless in my desire to make things better for everyone, including myself, but especially my kids.

So I was wounded and battle fatigued going into 1995, but that January would rock my world in ways I never saw coming. Which was surprising, because by the age of 25, my world had been rocked A LOT. I thought I had experienced every conceivable trauma known to man, but Fate - bitch that she can be - had yet another surprise up her sleeve. I would go from the highest high to the lowest low in less than ten days' time, right in the dawn of the new year.

I gave birth to my youngest son, Brandon Joel Rutherford, on January 6, 1995. He was a robust nine pounds and eleven ounces, with a sweet disposition that made me fall immediately in love the minute I laid eyes on him.



He was my calm in the storm, and I desperately needed one at the time. I will spare you most of the dirty details, but suffice it to say I ended up having to move to L.A. to live with my mom in order to take care of my kids (and myself) while my husband stayed behind in Texas to take care of some serious legal matters. I thought that I had hit rock bottom when I was forced to pack whatever I could fit into my 1977 Buick and travel across three states eight months pregnant with two young children in tow.

Like most of my young adulthood, I was simply struggling to keep my head above water, bouncing from wave to wave at the mercy of my circumstances. That most of them were my fault didn't help matters at all, and this particular period of my life rendered me my most helpless.

We were still trying to work things out when Brandon was born more than a week past his December due date. And even though I didn't have a pot to piss in or much of a window to throw it out of, this angelic creature brought joy and hope back into my life for nine remarkable days.



I didn't know it at the time, but nine days was all I was destined to have with my son. Brandon had been born with a condition called hypoplastic left heart syndrome, which went undetected until I found him early January 15, 1995, lifeless and purple, where he had lay napping on his grandma's bed.

He died two days before his first pediatrician's appointment, one that might have uncovered his heart defect and possibly saved his life.

I was destroyed. All the drama that had driven my life before that moment seemed trivial and meaningless in a world where I couldn't watch my baby boy grow into a man. If it weren't for my other two kids who needed me just as much, I might have slipped away with him. God knows I wanted to. Life had broken its unspoken promise to me, betraying me in the cruelest way possible. And I knew that the moment I left a piece of my heart in a Los Angeles cemetery.



Since I couldn't give in, I did what I always did when life knocked me to my knees. I struggled to my feet and kept swinging away, fighting even harder to save the only thing worth saving...my family.

For my own sanity, I found myself lost once again in my writing. This was a pretty big deal because I hadn't written for many years prior to Brandon's passing. Around 1991 I sent my first manuscript in to an agent, thinking that my lifelong dream of being a published writer was finally destined to realize. All those dreams dashed when she sent the manuscript back, every single page dripping with red ink, with a "thanks but no thanks" that stripped me of any self-confidence that I had the goods to cut it as a professional writer.

But I wasn't writing for anyone but myself in those dark days and sleepless nights following Brandon's death. I entertained no illusions of grandeur. I wrote for no other reason that I might have gone crazy if I didn't. I felt literally haunted by the demons that drove me, and ended up writing two books that year as a major source of self-reflection and therapy... and comfort. That's what writing is to me. I can face any challenge, rise above any obstacle, take any situation and make it fit the way it makes most sense in my brain at the time. Fiction I could control offered me a blessed escape in that bleak dark period of my life, where I could also slay these dragons that crouched hidden in the shadows of my crushing grief. I could face every monster, whether fear or regret or even anger, with a cast of characters whom I loved to walk beside me every step of the way.

One of those books was titled "Entangled," a contemporary romance full of drama and plot turned up for effect, so that my reality didn't seem to suck so bad.

This became the skeleton of this new series I have revisited and rewritten for publication at last.

I bled onto the page as I worked through these overwhelming feelings of loss, betrayal, confusion, yearning, and the ceaseless will to fight on for nothing more than the lives of my children. I resurrected Brandon in the character of Jonathan Fullerton, and then allowed my heroine, Rachel, to give him all the love and support, friendship, guidance and devotion that I couldn't give my baby boy.

It is, at the end of the day, the heart of this love story.



Several readers have sent me messages, telling me that ultimately they are rooting for this young boy's Happily Ever After most of all. This touches me more than I can ever say. I was sure readers would be torn between #TeamDrew and #TeamAlex. It never occurred to me that there would be a #TeamJonathan, which shows love and support for my angel who inspired him.



Needless to say this time of year can be extraordinarily difficult to navigate. There is no loneliness I've known that can match losing my child, because there is perhaps no greater intimacy I've known than pregnancy, birth and motherhood. So it is no small coincidence I have thrown myself - once again - into the writing (and now publishing) of this series at this time of the year. I needed these characters to break free of my dark and broken past. These books are my babies now, and it was finally time to give birth after nearly twenty years of gestation. That you can love them, root for them, laugh with them and cry with them has shown me that I do not walk this path alone anymore. You're right there with me, feeling every high, every low, every tear and every triumph.

After two decades of becoming a virtual hermit for nine days a year, a raw, open wound too afraid to venture far outside my own heart and mind, this has been revelatory.

In essence, you've lifted me up on strong shoulders without even knowing that was what you were doing. And I reached out to you, without knowing that was what I was doing.

So to all who have purchased, reviewed and/or contacted me personally to tell me how this story has affected you, I want you to know how much it means to me that you are a part of this ongoing healing process. You have helped me give my baby boy immortality almost two decades after I lost him. And there are no words significant enough to properly communicate my gratitude for that. He lives because Jonathan lives, in the hearts and minds of those who read the books and love his story. You have reminded me again that the dance, even though it often ends much sooner than we might want it to, is worth every step we take... as long as we can take it together.