Jade C. Jamison's Blog, page 33

The Box Set Too Huge for Amazon to Sell for 99 Cents #SizeMatters

Heh.  Got your attention?  Yes, it’s true.  This box set of ten New Adult/Coming of Age books is so damn big, Amazon wouldn’t let us slap the 99 cent price tag on it.  We were worried, because we know box sets priced at 99 cents fly off the shelves.  But there was no helping it.  We girls wrote big books…and size matters. 

It’s selling for $1.99, still a great deal for ten reads!

So I have a favor to ask of you, my dear readers.  If you’ve already read Bullet, my fellow author friends are asking that you post that review on Amazon under our box set (links are below).  No worries if you can’t, but we’re wanting to let future readers know what to expect.

If you haven’t read Bullet, well…you can get it for less than what the book by itself retails for, and you can get it with nine other great reads.  I’m proud to be featured alongside authors A.M. Madden, Cari Quinn, Elisabeth Grace, Layla Hagen, Rochelle Paige, Lisa Carlisle, Renee Field, Delia Foster, and Marie Long in what is an amazing anthology.

Thank you as always, my friends, for your support!

Links :

Kindle US – http://amzn.to/1GsK95O

Kindle UK – http://amzn.to/1MgfRiL

iTunes – http://apple.co/1jTiTmc

Kobo – http://bit.ly/1LnGSmR

The blurb from Bullet:

What if you discover the man you want is toxic?

She’d tasted a little bit of heaven with him, and now they’ve gone through hell and back, but can their relationship take anymore?

Valerie Quinn is a naïve college freshman when she meets on-the-rise rock star Ethan Richards. He’s an idealistic, handsome, reckless young man, but he’s captured her heart. She doesn’t give up on him and eventually his walls crumble down. By the time Valerie has given herself to him completely, she discovers he’s damaged and may be beyond help. Can she save Ethan and their relationship before he implodes, or will he self-destruct and take her with him?

And an excerpt!

Brad’s face got serious again, and he stroked my cheek. “Sorry about earlier. I guess we put you in an uncomfortable position. I didn’t know you didn’t smoke pot.”

“I was accused of being prude in high school more than once.”

He placed his hand on my thigh. “Oh, I don’t think you’re prude, Val. You just haven’t met your drug of choice, and you definitely haven’t met the right guy.”

His hand was warm. I was staring at it and deciding if I wanted to push it off my leg or not. As usual, though, I couldn’t resist Brad…flirting with him or anything else. So I said, “Meaning you’re the wrong guy?”

He smirked at me, and I wished I could figure out what he was thinking. “Yeah, I’m sure I’m the wrong guy, but I can feel like the right one if you let me try.”

I don’t know why, but his words were exactly what I needed to hear in that hazy state, and I felt like the most special girl in the world then. Brad had that effect on me, and I think it’s because I’d never seen him with another female…ever. It allowed me to believe him. Someone like Ethan, though…it was evident that he loved women, but he loved all of them. Whether Brad had designs on other girls or not, I didn’t know, because I’d never seen him hit on other girls when I was around. It was like he only had eyes for me. And I don’t have any idea why, because—even though that sexual attraction was there—I didn’t feel like I was encouraging him at all. He knew I was hung up on Ethan. He’d known that from the first day I’d met him.

“Did I tell you already how much I like this skirt?”

In spite of my muddled emotions (or because of them), I liked his hand on my thigh and a deep, dark part of me that I would never admit to thought I wouldn’t mind if he moved his hand even higher. But I struggled to maintain control. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from flirting. “Your eyes did.”

He took his hand off my leg and placed it on the back of my neck while his lips touched mine. The passion—yes, it was still there, murky and bottomless, threatening to consume us both…

The post The Box Set Too Huge for Amazon to Sell for 99 Cents #SizeMatters appeared first on Jade C. Jamison.

Release Blitz for Renee Dyer’s HE LOVES ME HEALTHY, HE LOVES ME NOT

I consider Renee Dyer to be a great author friend and I was happy to be part of the release blitz for her newest book, He Loves Me Healthy, He Loves Me Not.  It is not autobiographical, but it does draw heavily from her own life and her dealings with Chiari Malformation.  It’s an unusual subject that’s sure to tug at your heartstrings.  Best yet, Renee is donating a portion of the proceeds to Chiari research from now through November 7, so don’t delay in picking up your copy. 

 

Title: He Loves Me Healthy, He Loves Me Not

Author: Renee Dyer

Release Date: October 26

 #‎ChiariAwareness2015‬ 

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ Synopsis ~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

Chiari.

It’s a strange little word about to change Nick and Brenna St. James’ world forever. 

Brenna was raised to believe love conquers all. Losing piece after piece of herself causes her to waver in her beliefs. Insecurities abound and she can’t stop wondering if Nick can love the person she is now. Is it fair to ask him to?

Nick wants a do over. To go back to a time before Brenna was sick, before everything changed. But genies don’t exist, life doesn’t grant wishes, and time machines haven’t been invented. All he can do is follow his heart…and his heart wants Brenna.

Together, they have to face a battle they never imagined.

When fighting is all you have left…

When love can’t heal everything…

When life rests in the balance of the unknown…

When their vows, “…in sickness and in health”, are put to the test…

Will Nick and Brenna be able to fight through the odds stacked against them, or will everything come crumbling down?

Add to GOODREADS

Watch on YOUTUBE

~ ~ ~ ~ Buy Now ~ ~ ~ ~

Amazon  US

Amazon UK

Amazon AU

Amazon CA

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~ ~ ~ ~ Teasers ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ Author Bio ~ ~ ~ ~

 From a young age Renee Dyer had a love of writing, starting with a doodle pad at age four that soon turned into journals and later computer documents.  Poetry became short stories and short stories became a novel.  Although she’s surrounded by males all day having three sons, a husband and a hyperactive chocolate lab, she still finds time to be all woman when she escapes into the fantasy of reading and writing romance.  That is, until she needs male perspective and garners eye rolling from her husband.  She’s a true New Englander.  You’ll find her screaming profanity at her TV while the Pats play and cuddling under blankets during the cold seasons (which is most of them) reading a good book.  To her snow is not a reason to shut things down, only a reason to slow down and admire the beauty.  Ask her questions and she’ll answer them.  She’s an open book, pun fully intended.

~ ~ ~ ~ Author Contact Links ~ ~ ~ ~ 

FACEBOOK 

TWITTER  or @ReneeDyerAuthor

GOOGLE+

AMAZON 

GOODREADS 

PINTEREST 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ Hosted By ~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

 

 

The post Release Blitz for Renee Dyer’s HE LOVES ME HEALTHY, HE LOVES ME NOT appeared first on Jade C. Jamison.

Sneak Peek at ON THE ROCKS (Vagabonds #3)

On the Rocks, the third book in the Vagabonds trilogy, releases on Friday, October 30.  While I have a lot going on this week (I mean it–a lot*), this is the project I’m most excited about–the conclusion to this trilogy that has consumed more than half a year of my life and has truly been a labor of love.  Thus far, those who have been reviewing it have told me this is their favorite in the trilogy.

In this book, we’ll find out if CJ and Kyle are meant to be and if she succeeds in making it on her own or if she needs to throw in the towel in terms of her music career.  Here’s your sneak peek at the book.  Will they make it?  Guess you’ll just have to read this book to find out!

WARNING:  Due to language, sexual content, and dark themes, the book is NOT appropriate for anyone under the age of 18.

~ ~ ~

CHAPTER NINE of On the Rocks (Vagabonds #3)

Things never felt the same in the band again. Jake and I were still tight as friends, and Brandon sensed something had happened, but he was far too sweet (and possibly innocent) to ask. It was all Teddy. The guy carried the memories of that night with him like a nonexistent albatross, and I couldn’t understand why. I tried talking to him about it—once with Jake and once without—but he wouldn’t do it. He just said he’d rather pretend like that night had never happened.

He apparently had a few issues.

But I wasn’t going to push the matter. On stage and when we were in the limelight, he remained a consummate professional. I should have seen his ultimate departure coming, though. He stayed with us throughout the entire tour, but he let me know once we were home that he was leaving.

That sucked, because he’d been perfect for the band. He played rhythm to my lead well.

I knew, though, that there were plenty of other fish in the sea and there would be plenty of other guys willing to play.

Maybe. I was supremely disappointed in the overall scheme of things. My debut solo album hadn’t done nearly as well as I thought it should have. Where were all my supposed fans, all those people who claimed to love me and love my work? They sure as fuck weren’t buying my album or coming to my concerts.

No, that wasn’t fair. I had no doubt that my hardcore fans were, but no one else was. I had thousands and thousands of Facebook likes and Twitter followers, but I hadn’t even sold as many albums as the supposed fans I had in cyberspace.

I felt like a fucking failure. It killed me, gutted me, shredded my heart. Music was my first love, and I wanted to share my creations with the world, but apparently they didn’t want them.

So, yeah, I wallowed for a while. I let it eat at me. I decided I would let it all in for now, because I was going to have to let it go and pick myself up at some point.

I considered quitting but had no idea what the hell I would do with myself. Quitting was always a fallback option…but I discovered that I still had some fight in me left.

Mom and dad were living in Hawaii now, and I visited them for a month, soaking in the sun and the smell of saltwater in paradise, and I pretended I wasn’t a rock star.

Except for when I got one new tattoo on my butt cheek. It said Kiss My Ass. That was like flipping my finger to the world after drowning in disappointment. Now I was up and swinging and ready to kick ass again, and it started by being a rebel.

Fortunately, getting a tattoo on my ass, even without a few drinks, didn’t hurt nearly as much as I’d thought it would.

What really killed me, something I wouldn’t tell a soul—not even to a therapist bound by laws of confidentiality had I chosen to avail myself of one—was how well Liz was doing. Jesus, the fucking fans loved her, ate her shit up like it was a Krispy Kreme. It probably wouldn’t have bothered me so much if her stuff had been good. But I’d finally broken down and bought her album to find out for myself. People raved and raved about it—and she was an old friend, to boot—so I decided to give it a listen. Maybe the shit they were playing on the radio wasn’t representative of everything on the record.

Unfortunately, it was. Actually, the singles that were getting airtime were the best songs on the album. Overall, the music sounded mostly like our first album, but there was more to it than that. It had a heavy punk feel but it wasn’t fresh. It sounded like old music, even though it was new. There was nothing innovative or different about it, including the words. It sounded derivative and plain.

And fuck it. If that was what it took to get ahead, I was going to be a fucking rebel all my life and be happy with shitty sales. I wasn’t going to sell out by being crappy or mediocre. And it felt like that was what Liz was doing, like she’d stepped down and decided to stray from excellence.

That made me all the more determined to be different, and as the months drifted by, I was able to distance myself from my first effort. Yes, I knew now in retrospect that it did have a Vagabonds sound to it, just as critics and fans had noted. So, when I returned home, I decided to lock myself inside for a month and just listen to my favorite music, let it influence me and change my songwriting.

I went through all my music and decided against older stuff, because I definitely did not want an old sound like Liz. So, much as I loved it, there would be no early metal, no hair or glam metal, no grunge. If the music hadn’t been written or hit the charts in this millennium, then I wasn’t going to listen to it.

But I didn’t just listen. I drowned in it. I absorbed it. I ate and drank it. I fell asleep at night with the stereo playing and let it play all night long, turning up the volume when I arose in the morning. My car had an MP3 plugin so I could listen to anything specific I wanted to. I used an iPod when I worked out.

I didn’t listen to the Vagabonds. I also didn’t listen to the first incarnation of Kyle Summers, the band (I cracked myself up calling it that). But I was jamming out to some good shit—Death Crunch, Lamb of God, Korn, Last Five Seconds, Slipknot, Black Matter, Bullet for My Valentine, Shock Treatment, Godsmack, Seether…you name it. If they were a kick ass band in the twenty-first century, I was listening to them.

I decided a few things as I listened over and over to some of my favorite songs. The first was that I wanted to go a little heavier. The second was that I was happy being just “basic” metal—I didn’t need to be in a subgenre, and I certainly knew what my limits were.

And I did that…from my own place. I broke down and got my own apartment, and when CJ got back from Death Crunch’s huge tour that ended two days earlier in Europe, I picked him up at DIA. We hugged and kissed and, yes, I was happy to see him. He looked different—a little more filled out and he’d grown a bit of a beard. He still stirred me up and I was thrilled to see him…but I wasn’t sure how to break the news.

I didn’t, because we talked nonstop the whole way home—about his tour and mine, about future plans, and it was then that I told him about Teddy leaving the band. When he asked why, I told him Teddy hadn’t given a reason. I knew I could have told him what I suspected and he’d have to live with it; after all, it was his stupid idea that we see other people while on the road. It would serve him right if he felt jealous.

I didn’t say a word, though. But when we parked at CJ’s apartment building, I knew I needed to say something so it wasn’t a shock when we got upstairs. I grabbed his bass case while he threw a backpack over his shoulder and carried a big suitcase in one hand, a grocery bag in the other. As we started walking toward the building, I said, “Umm, I need to let you know…I moved out.”

It was subtle, but I noticed a slight pause in his step. Oh. So maybe he would have a problem with it. Well, I’d known it would be awkward, but I didn’t want it to be any big deal. “Out of my place, you mean?”

I nodded but kept my eyes on the stairs I’d have to place a foot on momentarily. “Yeah.”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “Did you get your own place or…?”

“Yeah. I just… Well, I want to thank you for your hospitality, you know. For letting me stay with you.”

He muttered, “Yeah, sure,” but I could tell it was merely an automated response. He was still processing it all. It wasn’t until we were inside, lights on and everything we’d been carrying put down, that he made sure he had my attention. “Is something wrong? Is there somebody else?”

Oh. That plunged in my heart like a harpoon. I didn’t know if I felt worse for not telling him before—because it obviously meant more to him than I’d thought—or because he believed I’d cheat on him. Well…when I was home. No, it was more than that. I guess, in hindsight, I’d say we had an open relationship, whether I wanted it or not, whether I agreed or not. That was the only way I could have CJ, and I’d been okay with it.

But I wasn’t happy with it anymore.

So I was stinging some that he figured I could just hang my heart up and stop caring. It didn’t work that way, not for me. He’d owned me from the first time we’d been together, and it wouldn’t be that easy to let go.

I felt like now might be a good time to let out a lighthearted laugh and call him silly, because of course he was the only guy for me. Then I thought it might be better to give him a wistful smile and just let him know that I needed some time to myself. But, instead, the rebel inside felt like balls out truth was the best way—the only way with the man I loved so fiercely that I ached to the core.

I did want to assure him, though. “God, no, CJ. There’s nobody else. But…” I shook my head, grappling for the words. “I need some space, something to call my own. We’re not building a life together here. This was never my home—it was yours—and, while I appreciate your generosity, I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

There it was—something—and that goddamn something sent a chill bolting over the surface of my arms, making the tiny hairs stand on end. You missed something, Kyle. What was it? There was a change in his face, so subtle that I just couldn’t make it out. It was a flash in his eye or a twitch in his cheek or a muscle in his jaw…but it was there, and you better believe it registered with my subconscious. All my fucking alarm bells were going off—every last one of them—and they were blaring at me that I had just fucked up monumentally.

But CJ was, if nothing else, always a gentleman. What made him frustrating and hard to read (in spite of the klaxons ringing in my heart) was that he held his cards close to his chest. There was little room for guessing, and I suspect that even had I come right out and asked him how he felt right at that moment, he wouldn’t have told me. And maybe he was too shocked to say anyway.

He took a deep breath and I saw another subtle shift. It was like watching a door close in slow motion. “So where’d you move?” He started walking toward the kitchen, grocery bag in hand.

“Not too far from here, actually.” I had wanted to scope out somewhere higher on the mountain overlooking the city, but I couldn’t afford a place like that, not yet, and certainly not with my lackluster album sales. I’d wanted to talk about that shit with CJ at some point too, but now wasn’t the time. Right now, I felt like I was walking through a minefield.

CJ set the bag on the counter and opened a cabinet, fetching out a drinking glass. “You’re all moved out already?”

I’d finished the week before, and just two days ago had cleaned his place top to bottom for his welcome home. “Yeah.”

He walked to the sink and poured cold water from the tap into the glass. His back was to me when he said, “Guess I should collect my key from you then.”

It sounded almost like a question and I wasn’t sure how to answer. I was probably having a hard time, because I felt like a quarterback trying to make a pass but I’d just gotten knocked to the ground. I was still holding the fucking ball and the wind was knocked out of me—hard. How the hell could I talk at a time like this? “Uh, yeah, if you want to.” I swallowed and reached in my jacket for my ring of keys.

How had I been so stupid? What had I been thinking? Why had I thought that he would come home and things would be normal—or somewhat normal? We’d stay the same, only I’d have my own place. What was the big fucking deal about that?

But, goddamn it, I’d been hurting so badly already that I was afraid to hash it out. I was so scared that if I asked him, I’d find out that I’d never really meant a thing to him. I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to hear that I was just a step up from a whore, and that was only because we were friends…because, in spite of anything CJ had ever said to me about “caring,” his actions screamed far louder than his words. I’d never felt like anything special to him.

I was a warm body in his bed who just so happened to be a friend.

I shut something off inside myself then, and I think it was to stop myself from crying or screaming or slapping him. I focused everything inside me on that fucking ring, winding the silver key through the loops until it came free, and I set it on the counter.

I felt my eyes get watery and I clenched my jaw. Be practical. “Uh…your mail’s over there on the table. And your mom wanted you to call once you unpacked.” I forced a smile, but I got the feeling it was like the way a person’s grin is lopsided after the dentist shoots her gum with Novocain—it feels like your muscles are obeying your brain’s commands, but you look in the mirror and see how clownish you really seem to everyone else. “She has a food delivery to make.”

He too put on a small, forced smile but the air was thick and heavy with everything we weren’t saying. “I’ll have to come see your place sometime.”

“Yeah.”

I left soon after. There was no welcome home sex like I’d imagined when I’d been driving to the airport earlier that day. There was no hug or kiss goodbye, but maybe there should have been, because, for some reason, it felt like someone had died.

Oh. That was me. Inside.

~ ~ ~

BOOK NAME: On the Rocks

SERIES NAME: Vagabonds, Book 3

GENRES: Contemporary Romance, Rock Star Romance, New Adult, Erotic Romance

LENGTH: Novel (70,600 words, 227 pages)

RELEASE DATE: October 30, 2015

PURCHASE/PRE-ORDER LINKS:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1Lsct8A

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1OqyYN8

GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/26588749-on-the-rocks

BLURB:

The explosive conclusion to the Vagabonds trilogy!

After playing second fiddle in the all-girl rock band the Vagabonds, lead guitarist Kyle Summers decides to break out on her own and puts together a band that helps her shine as a solo act.

But the road is uphill and success seems elusive. She begins to question herself and her talent, wondering if she should sell out to win the adoration of her old fans or stubbornly follow her heart and continue to languish in relative obscurity.

On-again off-again love interest CJ Slavin helps Kyle get her new band off the ground but refuses to commit to their relationship, once more leaving Kyle feeling alone, unloved, and unimportant, and those emotions lead her to do rash, irrevocable things on the road, things that could drive CJ away for good. Will they finally admit their feelings to one another and forsake all others or split for good, and will Kyle finally find the fame she’s been working her ass off for or will she leave it all behind, a broken woman?

Find out in the final tale of the Vagabonds trilogy!

***Not intended for readers under the age of 18 due to adult language and sexual content***

~ ~ ~

* For those of you who are interested, this week I am doing all this:

Relaunch of the book formerly known as Worst Mother (now known as Laid Bare); to celebrate, the book will be on sale all week at all sites for 99 cents.
What to Read After Fifty Shades of Grey: Coming of Age releases on Tuesday–priced at $1.99 because Amazon couldn’t afford to sell it for the 99 cent price tag we put on it.
Preparing for and then celebrating the release of On the Rocks.
Discounting two books on all sites to celebrate Halloween and Day of the Dead (Savage and Old House)

Whew!  Thanks, as always, for your amazing support!

The post Sneak Peek at ON THE ROCKS (Vagabonds #3) appeared first on Jade C. Jamison.

Yesss! My Review of Suz deMello’s ABOUT WRITING: YOUR ESSENTIAL WRITING MANUAL

“There are probably as many ways to abuse the language as there are words in it. Learn your craft. Please.” Suz deMello, in her recently released book About Writing: Your Essential Writing Manual, including Plotting and Planning and Write This, Not That!, won me over with that bold statement. As a former college English professor and indie author who is constantly asked for free advice from newbie writers, I myself tend to tell aspiring authors to invest in an editor*. Quite often, (in “shouty caps,” to use E.L. James’s phrase) I say it even louder after I’ve read some of their books, but deMello says what I (and countless other authors, I’m sure) have not said but have been thinking, and it boils down to this: if you’re going to be an author, respect the profession enough to learn the rules.

Much of deMello’s advice can be found in many other treatises, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t read it. In fact, quite the contrary. Writers, especially those who are struggling, should read deep and wide when it comes to matters concerning the craft of writing. I liken it to my experience with math in high school. When I was a freshman, I took Algebra I with Mrs. N. Not only did I get an A, I also understood it and even found it somewhat enjoyable. My sophomore year, I took Geometry, again with Mrs. N, and once more found it fun and easy.

But let me assure you that was the last math class I felt that way about.

See, my junior year—being a glutton for punishment—I took both Algebra II and Trigonometry, and both classes were with Mr. W. Mr. W was definitely a brilliant guy and most of the students in the chairs surrounding me seemed to get what he was saying. Me, though? I might as well have been in Greece…or Mr. W could have delivered his message in Morse Code, and I likely would have gotten as much out of it. I was happy to take a hard-earned C in both classes and decided then that math and I would part ways. But most of the students in his classes did quite well and, looking back, I knew of students who had struggled in Mrs. N’s class the year before. Fast forward to my teaching career, and I can tell you that some students learn well from one professor’s style of teaching while others do much better with someone else. If we all learned the same way (or the first time), there would be but one book offering advice on the writing craft and it would be all we’d need.

I appreciate a number of things about deMello’s approach in her book. First, she offers lots of salient examples, both from her own works as well as from the works of others (both contemporary and classic). It’s one thing to lecture and offer theory and quite another to say, “Here’s what I mean.” deMello doesn’t skimp on the examples, and that’s so important. There is one area in the book in particular—the section on Paragraphs—where I appreciate that she included excerpts from two famous authors who had made odd, unconventional paragraph choices. She emailed both authors, asking why they made that choice. One of them emailed her back and explained why she wrote the paragraphs in question the way she did (“for effect”—and her rationale made perfect sense); the other did not email deMello back to explain, but I appreciated that deMello showed readers that even famous authors make poor choices on occasion…and it doesn’t stop them from being successful. That wasn’t the point she was making, but quite often deMello did point out that successful authors are usually good storytellers and are successful in spite of these errors, not because of them.

Next, while she deals with a lot of topics other books do, she offers her own fresh perspective, and more than once, I would be reading and say, “Yesss!” For instance, “He growled. She snarled. He grunted. She hissed.” deMello talks about dialogue tags in detail, explaining that anything more than “he said/she said” can be distracting and slow the pacing of the story. That’s great advice, important enough that it’s worth repeating.

But she also deals with topics not touched on in other writing manuals. For example, she talks about “pantsers versus plotters” (and “puzzlers” too!). A good many of us in the writing community know exactly what she’s talking about and what those terms mean, but newbie writers might not. A lot of writers who have taken traditional (expository) writing classes may have been told over and over that they needed an outline for effective writing while many creative writers have been told to let the organic flow of the story lead them through the writing process. deMello asserts that there is “an artificial division” between the two, insisting that all writers are actually plotters…and then she goes on to explain why.

deMello also includes multiple perspectives from other writers she interviewed. Some of their insight was great to read but sometimes detracted from deMello’s points. I believe deMello shared their points of view to strengthen her own insights, but I don’t know that all those voices were needed. That said, it again made deMello’s work different from many other books of the craft out there and it does boost its credibility. However, deMello’s work, I think, speaks for itself.

deMello also talks about lessons she’s learned…which again makes her advice credible. More than once, she points out rookie mistakes she’d made early in her writing career or some booboo that slipped past her and her editor. Not only does that show that she’s human, but it’s the same thing a parent does with a child: I’m telling you so you can avoid making the same mistakes I did! She injects humor into the book at points too, once more helping readers (and would-be writers) relax and not take themselves so seriously.

The point she wanted to hammer home more than any other? Don’t be boring. And she gives this advice throughout the book, helping any authors willing to listen and heed her words make sure they be as non-boring as possible.

While I differed with her on minor points here and there, I highly recommend this book on the craft, especially to new authors. It’s fresh; it’s succinct; it’s overflowing with examples; and yet it does not go over tired old subjects the way many creative writing books do. deMello gives advice based on her years as an author and editor. While there are a good many books on the craft that I recommend to students and aspiring authors that are written by creative writing instructors who don’t have a whole lot of real-world experience, deMello’s is based on years in the business and that’s where its strength lies. Read it. Learn from it. Reread it as necessary. You’ll be glad you did.

* In fact, in my own book on the craft, Indie Writer Companion, one chapter (“Your Editor is More Important Than You Think”) is dedicated to the premise that an editor is indispensable.

~ ~ ~

Amazon: http://goo.gl/cZeDMJ

Perfect for the advanced or aspiring author, ABOUT WRITING includes both Write This, Not That! Suz deMello’s bestseller, and the newer Plotting and Planning, a primer on the basics: conflict and character, point of view, scene and sequel…plus much, much more, written in deMello’s engaging style.

About the Author

Best-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written seventeen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s held the positions of managing editor and senior editor, working for such firms as Totally Bound and Ai Press. She also takes private clients. Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists. A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip. –Find her books at http://www.suzdemello.com –For editing services, email her at suzdemello@gmail.com –Befriend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/SuzDeMello –She tweets @Suzdemello –Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/suzdemello/ –Goodreads: http://bit.ly/SuzATGoodreads –Her current blog is ttp://www.TheVelvetLair.com

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Sneak Peek at ON THE ROAD (Vagabonds #2)

This trilogy is a coming of age story, but it’s more than that.  It also revolves around the romance between Kyle and CJ, and I hope that becomes more apparent as readers get in deeper.

One observation a lot of readers made about the first book (On the Run) was that, to them, it felt like a young adult novel.  I assured readers that it definitely was not YA and to not let themselves be fooled by that…that, as the trilogy progressed, that fact would become clear. This book is much darker than the first.  Still, at its core, it is Kyle’s story, one that I hope readers enjoy.

Like with the first book, I want to share a chapter from On the Road here, one that shows Kyle and CJ’s budding romance.  Here it is!

WARNING:  Due to language, sexual content, and dark themes, the book is NOT appropriate for anyone under the age of 18.

~ ~ ~

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN of On the Road (Vagabonds #2)

THE BOWLING ALLEY was a completely different experience. For the first ten minutes, I had old high school acquaintances spot me and ask me about my life on the road. And then one of them recognized CJ—and he actually called him Siege. Awesome. My nickname for him was sticking.

When we were finally left alone, we bowled one game while sipping hot cocoa with whipped cream. Before the tenth round, I asked CJ if he wanted to wager anything. “Like what?” he asked.

I laughed. “How about that sweet car? I know you could afford another one.”

He looked up at his score. There was no way in a million years I could beat him. Well, maybe a million, but it would definitely involve a miracle of some kind. His score thus far was 168 and mine? Well, let’s just say mine was barely over one hundred. So I guessed there would be no way I could beat him at that point.

He grinned and started to say, “You know there’s—”

“Shh,” I interrupted, placing my index finger on his lips. “Are you man enough to take my bet or not?”

He chuckled and then sucked my finger into his mouth. Holy shit. That was hotter than it had a right to be, and I was pretty sure he read that reaction all over my face. I forced myself to let the air out of my lungs while he released my finger. Then he replied, “Fine, darlin’, I’ll take your bet.”

“Sweet. I love that car of yours. Now…what do you want me to wager?” I chewed on my bottom lip a second before adding, “I could make some suggestions.”

He blinked once, slowly and methodically, a slight grin making his eyes twinkle. “I’m sure you could. Why do I get the feeling you’re being naughty?”

My smile grew wider. “Am I that obvious?”

“Mm-hmm.” Yeah, like he hadn’t encouraged it.

“Okay, so let’s take care of this last frame.”

“But the bet—”

“How about…” He lifted my ball off the return and held it in his palm for me to grab. I stuck my fingers in the holes and he continued. “I choose my prize if I win?”

Oh. Okay. That would involve a lot of trust. Two seconds and I decided—I knew I trusted him. Two more seconds and I felt a thrilled shiver charge through my spine wondering just what he’d choose. I nodded. “All right. Wish me luck.”

“Absolutely. Good luck, babe.”

Another shiver darted through my body. He hadn’t called me babe often, but I loved when he did. I couldn’t quite smile at him as I took my ball out of his hand and walked up to the line. I adjusted my wrist, trying to compensate for the weird veer the ball had been doing for every frame I’d bowled. Then I took a step forward and swung the ball, closing my eyes as I let go of it. I kept them closed, listening for the sound of the ball hitting the gutter. But that sound never came. In fact, I heard the steady whirring sound of the ball rolling down the lane in a straight-ish path.

I finally peeked through the slit of one of my eyelids and saw that my ball was still traveling right down the middle, ready to hit the front pin.

And it did. My first strike of the evening. I couldn’t help but squeal (not metal at all, I know) and then I jumped up and down. I knew I’d get to throw the ball twice more now, and I turned around, smiling wide. “I got you now, mister!”

CJ grinned and brought the fingers of both his hands to his mouth, imitating the act of biting all his fingernails off. “Oh, no.”

Even had I hit all the pins twice more, I would haven’t beaten his score. But I didn’t even come close. Nope. I knocked down five pins on my next roll and three on the one after. I was still behind, and CJ hadn’t even had his turn yet.

He picked up the heavy black ball off the return and said, “This doesn’t even seem fair.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just get it over with.”

He threw the ball, this time not getting a strike, but he did get a spare and an extra ball. Talk about adding insult to injury. So, as we took our bowling shoes off and put our street shoes back on, I said, “Well?”

He looked over at me. “Well what?”

“What’s it gonna be?”

He shrugged. “I have to think about it a little bit.”

So we turned in our shoes and threw away our paper cups from the cocoa and walked outside into the cold. “Have you decided yet?”

He laughed. “Nope, not yet.” We got to his car and, after letting it run for a few seconds, he turned the heater on.

“Okay…now?”

He laughed. “Impatient.” He reached over and turned down the radio. “I think I’ll collect sometime this summer.”

Oh. Oh, God, no. I knew what that meant. That meant he did want to have sex with me, but he was going to make me wait until I was eighteen. That stupid fucking rule of his. But I kept my anger in check and instead figured out a way to slither myself in between his body and the steering wheel to straddle him. He was laughing again and held his arms up to allow me to sit on his lap facing him. I pressed my forehead into his. It was only thanks to the glow of the dashboard and the lights in the parking lot that I could see his deep brown eyes in the darkness of his car. “I want you to collect now, dammit.”

And there was that magnetism, that draw, that need I felt for him as my lips brushed over his. My eyes were closed by then and he responded—thank the heavens he responded—touching my tongue with his. It was another magical kiss, one that transported me out of that car and into the sky, out of the freezing night air and into a flaming furnace. My fists were gripping his leather jacket, and I could feel his hands on the small of my back through my coat. But as I kept kissing him, I got an inkling that he might be changing his mind.

That inkling was getting harder against my jeans.

Yeah. That was what I wanted, and that indication was all I needed to know that I could talk him into it now. So I kept kissing him, unwilling to let up, until the car actually started feeling too warm with all the layers I had on. I pulled back a little, as much as the steering wheel would allow, and started unzipping the front of my coat.

“Mmm, Kyle. Stop.”

“Why?”

“We can’t do it in here.”

“Why not?”

“Seriously? It can’t be done. The space is too tight.”

“That’ll make it more exciting.”

He placed his hands on my cheeks, in effect, stopping me from kissing him anymore. “Kyle, I want to.” Yeah, I had no doubt, but I wasn’t going to say it. “But I told you I won’t. Not till you’re eighteen.”

I squinted at him, although the effect was likely lost in the dim car. “You know that’s fucking stupid, right?”

“To you, maybe, but if I don’t have my honor, I’ve got nothing, Kyle.”

God. I thought that was fucking stupid too. Honor. And yet, I cared about CJ and I also respected the hell out of him. As much as I wanted him, I wasn’t going to make him break a promise to himself. I wasn’t going to exploit his weakness, either. If he wasn’t willing to sleep with me without me begging…then I didn’t want him.

“Fine.” I pulled myself off his lap—an awkward feat, believe me—and plopped back down in the passenger seat. “Then take me home.”

“Come on, Kyle. Don’t be mad at me.”

I huffed, but I tried to make my voice calm and steady. “I’m not mad at you.” He reached over and turned down the heat, and then he put the car in reverse. Soon we were on the way back to my house.

I couldn’t help myself. Halfway there, I said, “You know you’re a pussy tease, right?”

“What?” I repeated what I said and then he started laughing. “What the hell’s a pussy tease?”

“Same as a cocktease, only for girls.”

I saw him bite his lip as he turned into the residential section where my house was located. “I promise I’ll follow through, but—”

“I know. I know. Not till I’m eighteen.”

“Yeah.”

We were quiet on the way home, and we arrived early enough that my parents actually invited him in, and we played a quick game of Trivial Pursuit before I walked him to the door. I stepped outside, even though he urged me not to, because I wanted to give him a kiss goodbye.

I wanted to give him a last taste before I saw him again. I wanted him to have something to remember me by.

“I’ll be waiting,” I said.

He nodded and smiled and touched my nose with the tip of his finger. “I know. Not long now.”

Yeah, right. For all my body knew, it might as well have been years—because that was what it was beginning to feel like.

~ ~ ~

BOOK NAME: On the Road (Book #2 in the Vagabonds series)

SERIES NAME: Vagabonds

GENRES: Contemporary Romance, Rock Star Romance, New Adult, Erotic Romance

LENGTH: Novel (105,000 words, 329 pages)

RELEASE DATE: September 21, 2015

PURCHASE LINKS:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1huiVzU

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1Vtgr3v

GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25941044-on-the-road

BLURB:

All that glitters isn’t gold.  Sometimes it’s plastic.

Kyle Summers hits the road with her band the Vagabonds, living the dream.  Five young women are tossed into the limelight with little supervision, seemingly left to the wolves.  Kyle is driven and headstrong, and—while she enjoys the temptations of sex and drugs on the road—music always comes first.  In spite of her friends crumbling under the pressure and lack of support, the Vagabonds become a household name and enjoy success not experienced by people far beyond their years.

But Kyle realizes two things—one is that her relationships are hollow without love, but she and CJ, her main love interest, are only on-again, off-again at best, leaving her feeling unfulfilled.  The second is that Kyle quickly grows weary of dealing with egos and prima donnas, and she feels helpless while watching her band fall apart.

Can she save her band—and her relationship with CJ—or will she end up alone and forgotten?

Vagabonds follows one young woman’s rise to fame past the pitfalls of sex, drugs, and easy money, through fortune and success to heartbreak and betrayal.  Five girls build their band the Vagabonds from nothing but a hunger to create and quickly find that they are nothing but pawns in a larger game played by managers, agents, the press, the music industry, and all manner of unscrupulous, greedy people who want to feed on their triumphs.  Friendships and lives hang in the balance.  Who will survive?

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Sneak Peek at ON THE RUN (Vagabonds #1)

Yay!  I’m back!  Some of you might have noticed that, once again, I was having problems with my website.  The good news is I don’t have to worry about it anymore.  We got a new host and so I think all my issues are in the past…with my website, that is.

Winners of ARC Giveaway of ON THE RUN (Vagabonds #1)

Congratulations to these winners of my latest giveaway:

1. Julie Kirby

2. Marisa Maira

They have won an ARC of On the Run!

Just a reminder to the winners that, by accepting this prize, you are agreeing to post your review for the book the day it’s released on Amazon (August 31).

How to claim your prize! Please add me as an accepted sender to your Kindle (my email address is jadecjamison@gmail.com) and then email me at that address and let me know your Kindle address. If that’s confusing, that’s okay. Just let me know and I can give you more explicit instructions. Winners…you have 72 hours from this time to claim your prize or forfeit.

Also…winners from my Facebook ARC giveaway.  I have not heard from either of these ladies yet:

1. Marcie Wegner

2. Melissa Bennett

Thank you all again!

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ARC Giveaway of ON THE RUN (Vagabonds #1)

Would you like to read On the Run before anyone else? You have your chance right here, right now!

There is only ONE requirement—that you post your review for the book the day it’s released on Amazon (August 31). NOTE: If you are not able to review the book on Amazon within twenty-four hours of its release, please do not enter this giveaway.

Okay…now that I’m done with that, here’s how you enter: All you need to do is post in the comments section of this post!

Giveaway will end Friday night, August 21, at 10:00 pm MDT. I’ll use Random.org to choose a winner! I will announce it here on Saturday or before, and the winner will have 72 hours to claim the prize.

Please note: All winners must be able to give me their Kindle address and add me as an accepted sender to receive the ARC.

Okay, already…I think that’s enough rules. Good luck and thank you for your interest!!!

Oh, one last thing–there is a similar giveaway going on right now on my Facebook page (it’s pinned to the top) and I will be running another giveaway on Twitter in the next few days once I figure out the logistics, so you can increase your odds by entering in those spots as well.

If you don’t win, the good news is that you have less than two weeks to wait for the release!

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Dear @MissSnottyBitch

Who the hell are you that you felt like you could be mean and nasty to me? You don’t know me and you haven’t read my book, so I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your judgments to yourself. You don’t want to read my book? Fine. But don’t be nasty. Social media allows you to hide behind an avatar and you think it gives you license to be rude. It doesn’t. Shame on you for being so inconsiderate of another’s feelings. If you’re this rude in person, are you able to keep many friends?

Okay…I feel a little bit better now. You probably wonder what I’m ranting and raving about. Well…I paid for a media blitz campaign (that’s turning out to be a dud and not worth the money, but that’s beside the point).  Throughout this campaign’s run, I’ve gotten at least one shitty comment a week from people who have no intention of ever reading my book. In case you’re curious, this is what the campaign is tweeting:

What if you discover the man you want is toxic? A true rock romance just for you. Get your copy NOW! http://dld.bz/dNqwD  @JadeCJamison

Yes, dear readers, some of you have probably guessed that it’s advertising Bullet. For a nominal fee, I thought, “Why not? What can it hurt?” Well…little did I know it could hurt my feelings. People are rude! Here’s the tweet I received from a complete stranger (let’s call her @SnottyBitch) that prompted the rant above:

@JadeCJamison ugh sex with a few of them? One is enough. The story is toxic. Summary scan made me ill. No tks.

Um…okay. First off, the book blurb says nothing about the heroine having “sex with a few of them.” If you don’t remember (or haven’t read it yet), this is the blurb for the “toxic story” known as Bullet:

An Epic Rock Star Novel

What if you discover the man you want is toxic?

She tasted a little bit of heaven with him, and now they’ve gone through hell and back, but can their relationship take anymore?

Valerie Quinn is a naïve college freshman when she meets on-the-rise rock star Ethan Richards. He’s an idealistic, handsome, reckless young man, but he’s captured her heart. She doesn’t give up on him and eventually his walls crumble down. By the time Valerie has given herself to him completely, she discovers he’s damaged and may be beyond help. Can she save Ethan and their relationship before he implodes, or will he self-destruct and take her with him?

So, in spite of what she said, whatever she read was not a “summary” scan—she probably read some of the spoiler-laced reviews. But let’s tackle the bigger issue here. Sex. We are not living in the fucking 1800s, folks. This is 2015. You can play prim and proper virgin all you want, but be honest here. How many women do you know (TRUTHFULLY—and include yourself!) who have only ever had sex with one man their whole lives? Even the most uptight religious women I know have had sex with more than one guy. Does that make them sluts? No (not that I would judge them). Does that make them toxic?

Dare I say it?

FUCK NO.

So, snotty bitch, keep your fucking opinions to yourself. I had half a mind to tweet this to you. I stewed about it all day long and then decided to be the bigger person. Ha. I’m letting my blog serve as therapy.

I’d like to believe that my actual readers are a whole hell of a lot more open-minded and less judgmental. And I guess I should consider myself lucky that @SnottyBitch didn’t read my book. Imagine the nasty review I would have gotten for my “toxic” story. Well, guess she’d better go back to reading Harry Potter and Dr. Seuss (oh, I hope she doesn’t learn about J.K. Rowling’s racy book!!!).

Blast from the Past: Finger Bang

I’m continuing my task of archiving old pages from my website. Today, we’re going to look at the old page for Finger Bang. Incidentally, this is the last of my old pages to be archived, so this is the last Blast from the Past post!

In a nutshell: Orgasmic Meditation? Therapeutic?! Kaylee Baker is horrified when her girlfriends suggest a trip to artsy Boulder, Colorado, to check out the latest craze. What her friends don’t know about Kaylee is that she is a little repressed, bordering on frigid, and the idea of a complete stranger bringing her to orgasm—therapeutic or not—is horrifying.

Blaze Donahue has admired Kaylee from afar for quite some time, and part of the reason he’s kept his distance is because he’s had no indication that she might even be interested. But when he’s given the opportunity to offer her his own version of OM with no strings attached, he makes an offer she has a hard time refusing.

When there are undeniable sparks between the two, Kaylee runs, afraid of the overwhelming feelings she has for this gorgeous, sensitive guy. Blaze feels compelled to convince her otherwise but wonders if he’ll be able to crack through the ice surrounding this sweet girl. Can they find true love or will it just be a one-time O?

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