Piper Shelly's Blog, page 260

SUSAN MILLER’S BOOK COVER

Hey there all!

I’ve finished the cover for DATING TROUBLE, Susan Miller’s book. It looks epic and I’m dying to show you!!

But this time, I thought I’d do the cover reveal a little different. How about a deal?

Recently, I re-released the second half of Tony&Sam’s book, KISS WITH CHERRY FLAVOR. It doesn’t matter if you read the long version of T IS FOR… before July 2014 or the split books afterward. The important thing is, that I’d love you to leave a review for both. It’s always so very hard to get my fans to take those few minutes to post something, so this time, I’m tying the cover reveal for DATING TROUBLE to a number of positive reviews on Amazon.

30 is my number!

T is for… (Grover Beach Team, 3)

I’ll check back frequently on Amazon, and as soon as 30 positive reviews are up for both books, I’ll let you take a look at the new cover in the GBT series. Oh, come on, don’t let me wait too long. I reeeeeeeaaaaallllly want to show you the cover. It’s my favorite so far. ;)

 

 

 

Kiss and make up with Tony!

Hey folks,

Kiss with Cherry Flavor released! :)

But be away, it’s a RE-RELEASE! It is in fact the second half to the original, much longer version of T IS FOR… In July 2014, the book was split in two for several reasons that I gave in a post some time ago.

Here’s a big YAY to the release from my end which I hope you will echo once you finished reading Sam&Tony’s story. And to get you in the right mood, let’s start right where we left the two of them hanging at the end of book one. ;)

KISS WITH CHERRY FLAVOR

Ten minutes ago…

 

TONY MITCHELL WAS driving me insane!

Why wouldn’t he kiss me? Okay, if it wasn’t what he wanted, fine. I could deal with that. But then he should at least keep some distance. It had been the second time we’d gotten this close today, and still he’d pulled back in the last possible instant. Was he thinking I didn’t care? That I had no feelings at all?

Behind me, the rain pounded on trees and bushes and squashed the many tiny flowers in this romantic little wood. Only an hour ago, in Caroline Jackson’s garden, he’d been gushing about this forest like it was his personal land of milk and honey and I’d asked Tony to show me the enchanting place that had inspired him to draw so much as a child. Now I wished we’d gone straight home instead. That way, there would have been less acting like he was going to kiss me and not going through with it.

I was on my way up to a narrow but high crack in the rock face that Tony had pointed out to me when the hard rain had set in. We could hide out there until the worst was over, but climbing wasn’t easy when the rain tried with everything in its power to wash me back down the sleek rocks. I sniffed and fought against the tears that still stung in my eyes from Tony’s latest rebuff. Was I hurt? That didn’t even scratch the truth. But I couldn’t show Tony how much he’d really gotten to me today.

Luckily, he was climbing away from me on his way down from the small ledge that we’d been standing on together a couple of minutes ago while marveling at the beautiful landscape. This afternoon, Tony had presented me with a paddock full of horses for live models after I’d been struggling all week to draw a galloping horse from memory for my arts class. Now, my backpack with my finished drawing of Jostle, Mrs. Jackson’s stallion, was still down by the tree where Tony’s mountain bike also stood, exposed to the merciless rain. I’d worked so hard on that picture this afternoon. Then, surprised by the weather, I’d totally forgotten about it. But not Tony. He rushed down to save it so I didn’t have to start from scratch again.

In the meantime, I fought my way up, using the tiny protrusions in the rock face to step on. Above me and a little to the left, I could see the narrow cave that Tony had pointed out to me. It didn’t look very comfortable, but it was enough to give us shelter from the rain. I took a deep breath and another step upward, then another breath and one more step, trying to keep focused and ignore the ache in my heart. It was crucial to get myself together again before Tony came back up. He wouldn’t get a chance to see how much the almost-kiss had shaken me. I could act nonchalant.

Or so I hoped.

But frankly, his game of nearness and distance was killing me. Why was it so hard for him to make up his mind? Kiss me—or not! Want me—or not! That wasn’t such a hard decision to make. An undeniable flame sizzled between us; he had to feel it too. Heck, he could have easily set the wood on fire with the hot look he’d given me just before he… Well, before he didn’t kiss me.

A deep sigh escaped me. Was I really making things up here? Maybe Tony hadn’t been interested in me from the beginning. I probably just wasn’t his type because, let’s face it, I wasn’t Lisa Matthews, his one and only love. I was merely Samantha Summers, Chloe Summers’ terrible cousin and the girl Tony called dwarf more often than my real name.

Now wasn’t this fantastic? Why did I ever start falling in love with a jackass like him? Just because he’d let me doze off on his shoulder at Lisa’s sleepover yesterday? Or because he hadn’t hesitated to drive me to Doc Hunter when I hurt my knee in the woods on our camping trip?

The answer was no—because I’d started to fall for Tony even before all that. It was the moment he pulled me out of the brook in the woods and gave me his sweatshirt to wear when mine was soaking wet. It was the first real act of friendship Tony had offered in the time I’d known him. Not much really, but to me it had meant a lot. And from there it had just gotten worse. I didn’t want to be in love with Tony, but after today, when he helped me out with the horses and acted so sweetly it gave me goosebumps, it was hard not to be.

All right, I might have been mistaken before. Focusing on my steps wasn’t preventing me from mulling over Tony Mitchell at all. And now I’d reached a dead end, too. I had to climb a little to the left and then down again to reach the cave. Squatting, I slid down and landed on my butt on the mossy, wet rock. It didn’t matter really, because my clothes were drenched already anyway. One last, big step forward and I stood under the cave’s protective shelter. Finally.

When I turned around, Tony was already coming up the same way. Of course, he was much faster and a skilled climber. In my defense, he was a head taller than I was and had much longer legs, too.

Unlike me, he didn’t drop to his butt to slide into the cave. Instead, he obviously intended to jump. In this narrow crack of a cave, I didn’t know where to step to get out of his way. Right behind me was a rock, so I quickly stepped onto it and pressed myself flat against the wall behind me to give him as much space as I could so he wouldn’t land right on top of me.

When he leaped forward, I held my breath, because suddenly he was right in my face with his hands planted on either side of my head on the rock wall behind me. That’s how he stopped himself from squishing me like a blueberry. His nose was almost touching mine. Like I said, there was little to no space in this cave—hardly enough room for two.

Still, he could have at least given me a few more inches to breathe. Only, he didn’t seem to want that…

Thanks to the rock underneath me, my height for once matched Tony’s. Well, almost. Merely a few more centimeters, and we’d have been on eye level. It didn’t happen often, but whenever it did, the butterflies in my belly came out to play, and I already felt the first one tickling my insides. I wanted to crush it in my fist, but it was impossible, because it had brought too many of its friends and the tickling sensation in my stomach was getting worse by the second.

Mud stained Tony’s white, short-sleeved shirt, which now clung to his body like a second skin. From his blond hair, rain dripped down on my face and one drop slid down my nose. I had no chance to wipe it off, because at that moment Tony dipped his head those last couple inches and brushed the drop away with the tip of his own nose.

What the heck was he doing to me?

Was he starting this awful game again? Looking like he was going to kiss me and then pulling back? I should have run away that very instant and not looked back. Except, there was a rock wall behind me, Tony’s arms hemming me in, and his blue, blue eyes right in front of me. I was trapped, literally.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the worst position I’d ever been in.

Tony’s breaths feathered against my skin. With my knees turned to rubber, I braced myself against his chest, so as not to tumble from the rock I was standing on. “You shouldn’t do this,” I said, my barely audible voice trembling. I was wet to the bone and shivering, and yet, I didn’t feel cold, not one little bit.

“Why not?” Annoyingly, Tony didn’t sound half as insecure and nervous as I did. And instead of pulling back that instant, like he’d done before when I’d thought he was going to kiss me, he obviously decided to tease me some more. Gently, he stroked the tip of his nose across the sensitive skin beneath my left eye. It felt so good, I couldn’t turn my head away.

“Because you don’t really want it,” I breathed helplessly against his cheek. My lips brushing against his warm, damp skin was my undoing, and I got the feeling that he really liked it.

“Do you want it?” he asked me.

No! Yes… No.

Tony’s lips moved behind my ear to kiss me there. My entire body began to shudder from the pleasure of it. My hands glided up over his firm chest and I slid my fingers under the straps of my backpack, which he was still carrying on his shoulders. Did I really want to kiss him?

Okay, maybe I did… But just a little bit.

“That doesn’t matter,” was what I told him.

“It matters to me.”

It did? Since when? “I can’t seem to figure out what’s going on inside your head.”

Tony shrugged one shoulder. “You don’t have to.” Because he was still nuzzling the side of my neck, I couldn’t see his face, but he sounded every bit mysterious…and so seductive. How was I supposed to ever make sense of this guy?

“See, that’s the problem. You’re confusing me. Everything you say seems to be at war with everything you do.” Really, I wanted to push him away from me, but for some reason, I did the exact opposite and used the straps of my backpack to pull him even closer. “This really is a bad idea.” And it totally was. Only, I didn’t care anymore. I pressed my cheek against his.

“You sound like you’ve never done anything stupid in your life,” Tony whispered and continued placing little kisses on the underside of my jaw.

I’d done lots of stupid things, all right. But none of them ever evoked this crazy butterfly feeling in my gut, which I knew at this very moment I’d never ever get rid of again.

“Not like this. I think it would change too much…for me.”

Tony’s muscles tensed for a split second. He knew I was right. And it might very well bring an abrupt end to our sizzling moment.

It would have been wise to wish for it. To hope this moment would end the same way as the almost-kiss before. But I couldn’t. Earlier in his aunt’s stables, I’d already been more than ready for a kiss. The entire afternoon together with him had just been too beautiful. The memory of him surprising me in my uncle’s gym, where I’d been dancing, surfaced in my mind. Thinking of the way he’d made me sit on the handlebar of his mountain bike and how he’d helped me down from the stallion after riding it—all these things made me want to kiss him even more. I really shouldn’t let him but, frankly, who could have resisted a guy who jogged a horse for twenty minutes so I could finish my drawing for my art class?

Tony touched his forehead to mine. Right then I forgot how to breathe. I closed my eyes but could still feel his gaze on my face. Like he was waiting for me to look at him. Eventually, I gathered all my bravery and opened my eyes again, locking gazes with him. His eyes gleamed with a determination that I hadn’t seen in them before. “You think too much, Bungee,” he told me in a soft voice.

In the next instant, his mouth was on mine. I didn’t want to give in, but I could do nothing to stop myself. My eyes closed, and I tilted my face just that last little bit to meet his gentle lips. Tony stroked the inside of my wrists with his thumbs, then pulled my hands away from him and laced his fingers through mine, tightening his hold.

My knees turned weak again. My head spun wilder than a carousel. But inwardly I raged. It felt so beautiful for me, while for Tony…this was only a game. After his last rebuff only minutes ago, it was clear the kiss didn’t mean half as much to him as it did to me. I was going to be the loser in this gamble, because I had put my heart on the line.

But he wouldn’t stop kissing me.

His tongue stroked a seductive path along my bottom lip, then he easily worked my mouth open, our lips moving together in a soft rhythm. So effortlessly, he had me giving it all.

Our tongues touched, slid against each other. It lit my body with a flaming tingle that centered at the base of my belly.

And then, it was over. Just like that, Tony pulled away. Utter shock gleamed in his eyes, like he’d come to his senses, and I got what I deserved for being so stupid. My heart fell and fell until I could have stomped on it with my feet. Or Anthony Mitchell could, because he was actually doing so right now.

There you go, Sam. Happy now?

Tony released my hands and raked his fingers through his wet hair, turning toward the forest and then back to me. “Ah, Sam…listen—”

“No,” I cut him off, almost in a panic. “Just—don’t—say anything.” I didn’t want to hear his apologies or excuses for a moment that was so beautiful. It wasn’t his fault alone. I should have known better. After all, it was Lisa he wanted, not me.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to push back my hurt before it overcame me. Then I shrugged and even smiled. “We kissed. It doesn’t have to happen again. It’s all right.”

Tony hesitated. He didn’t show any of my forced nonchalance, but eventually he nodded.

I stepped off the rock, leaving the comfort zone of Tony’s eye level, and walked out into the rain that had lightened to a drizzle in the past couple of minutes. Climbing down the rock face, I looked up at him between watching my steps. “Just don’t go back to being an asshole,” I said with a warning note in my voice.

A sly smile appeared on his face. Finally. “Can I call you Tiny?”

Resisting to flip him the bird, I stuck my tongue out at him instead. “If you want me to kick your shins, go ahead!”

My feet touched the ground, and Tony was down two seconds after me. We walked to his bike, but instead of mounting it, he looked both ways along the path, deliberating. “Are you cold?” he asked me. “If you want, we can go back to Carrie’s house and wait until the rain stops.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, I am. A little. But I’d rather go home now.”

After a curt nod, Tony wheeled his mountain bike in the opposite direction from which we’d come, and when we left the woods and returned to a paved street, he had me sit on his handlebar like before. With the wind and the rain gushing at my face and bare arms, I was freezing. But the cold also numbed my mind, and I was glad I couldn’t start thinking about what had happened back in the forest. Later, when I’d be alone in my room, would be soon enough.

Tony helped me down in front of my aunt’s house and handed me the backpack, but before I could walk inside, he grabbed my hand and held me back. Surprised, I spun around.

For a brief moment, Tony looked strangely forlorn. Then he cleared his throat, tightening his grip around my wrist a little more as if he expected me to wrestle free and run off.

“Look, I know you said it’s cool, but I’m…” He paused and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You’re a nice girl. And I kinda like hanging out with you.”

I kept my expression blank. “But…”

His answer took a while to come. “But I’m just not doing the girlfriend thing right now.”

“Yeah, I figured that out.” For him, it was either Lisa or nobody. “And I told you, it’s okay. I’m not looking for a boyfriend.” Or so I would tell myself for the rest of the day. And in the end, maybe I’d believe it too.

Giving him a tight little smile, I pulled my hand away from his. “See you tomorrow at lunch?”

“Sure.” He looked away.

I turned and hurried inside, out of the rain and away from the boy who’d broken my heart this afternoon. As soon as the door banged shut, I slumped against it and ugly, fat tears spilled down my cheeks.

“Sam, is that you?” my aunt shouted from the kitchen a couple of seconds before she appeared in the doorway.

It was too late to dry my tears. Pam rushed to me and cupped my face with her warm palms. “Darling, what happened? You’re wet to the bone, and why are you crying?”

“We got caught in the rain,” I choked out, then sank into my aunt’s caring embrace, sobbing into her shoulder. “And he kissed me.”

“Who? Tony?”

Nodding, I looked up. And it was just my luck that Chloe was standing behind Pamela, her face full of horror. She didn’t stay long enough to hear the end of the story, but whirled around and dashed upstairs. A moment later, the thunder of her door slamming echoed through the house.

Pam looked over her shoulder, oblivious to what was going on. Then she held me tighter against her chest and caressed my hair. “If he kissed you, why are you feeling miserable?”

“Because he didn’t want to,” I told her truthfully. “I don’t know why he did it. But he said he didn’t want me to be his girlfriend. He’s still in love with a friend of mine. Has been his entire life.”

“Oh, Sammy. He must feel something for you if he kissed you. Maybe he just needs a little more time to understand what he really wants.” Stroking my bangs out of my face, she gave me an encouraging look. “Who’s the other girl?”

“Lisa Matthews. She’s with Jessie Hunter’s son.”

Realization shone in her eyes. Pam pressed a soft kiss to my brow. “Be patient. He’ll see that you’re everything she is. And more.”

I gave her a tight hug, grateful that she was here for me when I needed her. Her comforting words meant a lot to me. And they actually gave me hope that she might be right. Even if a relationship wasn’t in his plans, Tony wouldn’t have kissed me if he hadn’t felt anything for me.

Soaking in a long, hot bath helped clear my mind of all the shit that was going on inside me. When I came out of the bathroom an hour later, I felt light and refreshingly confident. But most of all I felt cozy and warm in my sweatpants and a dark gray fleece pullover.

I flopped onto my bed with my cell phone in hand and keyed in a message for Susan. It was time to tell somebody about this odd afternoon. I had just sent the text when my glance skated over my backpack, which sat totally forgotten next to my door.

Taking it with me onto the bed, I pulled out my folder to examine my latest work. I still thought it was perfection. When I shoved it back into the folder, I found another drawing inside. Strangely enough, this one wasn’t by me—but of me.

My mouth fell open. In my hands, I held a portrait of me on Jostle, galloping across the paddock. It was done in light lines, just a rough sketch, but the features were accurate, my hair and the stallion’s mane wafted in the wind, and Tony had even caught my joyful laugh. His signature across the bottom right corner brought a smile to my lips.

I was bored.

T.

A whistle from my cell phone told me Susan had read my text and replied. Of course, she was shouting for deets about the kissing. I’d call her in a minute, but first I had to do something else. Tony’s drawing reminded me that he’d said he wanted to email me something. Wondering if there was already an email waiting for me, I booted up my laptop, and opened my inbox.

There were a few spam emails, then one from my mom sending me pictures of our neighbor’s birthday party, and two from friends in Finland that I still wrote to every once in a while. But none from Tony. My heart sank a little then, yet I refused to let this spoil my joy over his picture.

I dialed Susan’s number, then squeezed the cell between my ear and shoulder and typed a reply to my friends while I waited for Susan to pick up.

“Hey! What’s going on?” she screeched in my ear. Startled, I let the cell drop onto the bed.

“A lot. And then nothing,” I told her when I had the phone back in place.

“What do you mean, nothing? You spent the afternoon with Tony. Alone, for heaven’s sake. Tell. Me. All about it!”

I sighed and rolled my eyes, but I also laughed. “He came over, found me practicing in my uncle’s gym, and made me come to his aunt’s. She has horses, and I needed a live model for my AVE project.”

“Wow. He just walked into your house like that? Did Chloe see him?”

Finishing the first email and sending it off, I answered, “Yeah. She wasn’t happy. But I really don’t care. It’s their problem, not mine.”

“So what happened next?” From her excited voice I knew she wanted me to get to the part where Tony kissed me.

“He had me sit on his bike, and we rode to his aunt’s.”

“That worked?”

“Yes. It was scary as heck, but we made it there all right. I worked on that one drawing I needed, and afterwards I got to ride a gorgeous stallion.”

“Tony?” she teased.

“Ha. Ha.” I sent off the second email then closed the lid of my laptop, dedicating my undivided attention to Susan. “But you know what? He drew a picture of me while I was on the horse. I didn’t know about it. Just found it in my folder.”

There was a stunned pause at the other end, then Susan sighed dreamily into the phone. “Aw, this is so romantic. Lisa was right. He must really like you.”

“I thought so when he kissed me in the woods,” I confessed then. “But he broke off the kiss before it got hot, telling me he didn’t want the girlfriend-boyfriend shit.”

“Dang.”

“Yeah. So that’s that. It won’t happen again.”

“Shame…” A smile sneaked into her voice. “But did you like it? How was it? Is he a good kisser?”

“It was…” Amazing, wonderful, breathtaking, sweet, and gut-wrenchingly hot. “…nice.”

“Oh.” Hard to miss her disappointment.

At that moment, my laptop made a low ding sound. I opened it again and found a new email in my inbox. From Tony. My heart zigzagged wildly inside my chest.

“Hey, Susan,” I said, trying to mask my excitement. “Can I call you back later? There’s…another call coming in.”

“Sure.”

I rang off and tossed the phone onto my pillow. This would give Susan time to call Simone and Lisa and spread the news.

Struggling to rein in my quickened breath, I opened Tony’s message.

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 20:59

Subject: helpful material

1 Attachment (1.65 MB)

 

Hey Sam,

 

Here’s the material on how to draw bodies.

I hope you didn’t catch a cold in the rain.

 

T.

 

Though his message was short, it didn’t escape me that he’d added a personal line. It kept my heartbeat in a fast rhythm.

The attached file contained detailed descriptions with sample pictures for each step. I scrolled through them and couldn’t wait to use this information for my next project. I saved it with my personal files then went to type a reply.

___________________________

From: Samantha Summers

To: Anthony J. Mitchell

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 21:13

Subject: no cold

 

Thanks for the file. And for saving the drawing(s) today.

 

Sam

 

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 21:14

Subject: You’re welcome

 

You’re welcome.

 

To say I hadn’t hoped for a longer reply would have been a lie. But what did I expect really? A romantic letter with hundreds of explanations as to why this afternoon had gotten out of control? Well…a girl could dream, right?

I put on some music and read the instructions in Tony’s file carefully, which kept me captivated for over an hour. In the end, I stretched with a wide yawn and closed all the windows I had open on my laptop. The last one was my inbox, and I noticed with surprise that there was another email from Tony. He’d sent it twenty minutes ago, but with my music playing, I hadn’t heard the ding.

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 22:02

Subject: I’m sure even the horse had one…

1 Attachment (1.05 MB)

 

I thought you might like to have this, too. It’s what I used when I started drawing faces.

You really need to break your obsession with dimples, Bungee. ;-)

 

T.

 

What was he playing at? Hinting that I shouldn’t get obsessed with his dimples, because there was no chance for us? This time I didn’t open the attachment but immediately typed a reply. With any luck he was still on his computer and I would get another email tonight.

___________________________

From: Samantha Summers

To: Anthony J. Mitchell

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 22:26

Subject: No. It. Didn’t.

 

It’s not an obsession, it’s merely a preference. :P

Just like how some guys prefer tall girls to small ones.

 

Why do you keep calling me Bungee?

 

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 22:29

Subject: Because I’m not allowed to call you Tiny

 

I prefer you standing on a rock when I kiss you.

 

SENT FROM MY iPHONE

 

My heart lurched to my throat as I read his message several times. It was so…intimate. Biting my bottom lip, I smiled to myself. I never would have dared to believe he’d come up with something this personal. Especially when he kept blocking me from personal stuff.

___________________________

From: Samantha Summers

To: Anthony J. Mitchell

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 22:40

Subject: Did you go to bed? Using your iPhone now?

 

You didn’t answer my question.

 

And I could tell you liked me at eye level. So much so that you bit my lip.

 

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 22:44

Subject: Playing video games with Frederickson

 

I did answer. See subject of last email.

And I didn’t bite your lip. I nibbled. A little.

 

You taste good.

 

SENT FROM MY iPHONE

 

___________________________

From: Samantha Summers

To: Anthony J. Mitchell

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 22:47

Subject: CAN HE SEE WHAT YOU’RE WRITING??

 

Why are we talking about kissing now?

 

That was not a real answer. You dodged the question.

 

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 22:51

Subject: Unlock your caps

 

No, he can’t see what I’m writing. Obviously.

We’re talking about kissing now because Frederickson made me talk about it. Apparently, he heard it from Hunter, who got it from Liz.

 

Did you talk to Susan?

 

SENT FROM MY iPHONE

 

Shit. I hadn’t realized the news would make the rounds this quickly. But then, we never said we’d keep it a secret. Was that a problem? Well, it could become one at school. Maybe he didn’t like Lisa knowing that he’d kissed me. If he was still working on a chance to steal her back from Ryan, this information could mean his downfall. Then again, in his email, he didn’t sound angry, exactly. I might be safe.

___________________________

From: Samantha Summers

To: Anthony J. Mitchell

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 23:01

Subject: Yes. Is that a problem?

 

If so…sorry. But that’s what girls do. They tell each other shit from their life.

 

Tell Nick I said hi.

 

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 23:03

Subject: Not for me

 

SHIT? FROM YOUR LIFE? Are you referring to me kissing you??

 

Nick just left. He wanted to give us some privacy.

 

SENT FROM MY iPHONE

 

___________________________

From: Samantha Summers

To: Anthony J. Mitchell

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 23:04

Subject: Re: Unlock your caps

 

Do we need privacy?

 

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 23:08

Subject: It’s a school night

 

I don’t think we do, but it’s nice to get some anyway.

 

Shouldn’t little (ßnote I said little and not tiny) girls like you be in bed at this time of the night, Bungee?

 

SENT FROM MY iPHONE

 

___________________________

From: Samantha Summers

To: Anthony J. Mitchell

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 23:10

Subject: Your fault

 

I won’t be able to sleep until you tell me why you call me that.

 

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 23:16

Subject: c u @ lunch

 

All right. But only because I don’t want to be the reason for your sleepless night.

 

It’s just a nickname I gave you when I was talking to Hunter the other day. You and the girls were practicing while we were playing soccer. I saw you stretching against a tree.

You’re flexible like a freaking bungee cord…

 

Now sleep tight, Sammy. ;-)

 

Here’s a lullaby for you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a30tg02JwDc

 

SENT FROM MY iPHONE

 

It took a couple of seconds for the information to sink in, then my heart skipped a beat. He’d watched me cheerleading. He’d talked to Ryan about me. And he’d given me a nickname. All while he was still supposed to hate me. What did that mean?

I clicked the link and couldn’t believe what came up on YouTube. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. “Heigh-Ho.” Laughing out loud, I shut down my laptop and went to sleep.

***

 

Get the whole book from Amazon!

Kiss with Cherry Flavor (Grover Beach Team, 4)

WHY DO YOU COMPLAIN?!?

I’m tempted to write a “screw you” note.

Seriously, people, if you want me to stop writing, just say so. I don’t have a problem with that. Okay, I might not stop writing, but I’ll stop releasing books with such little time between them. One book a year, how does that sound? Sounds like a lot less stress for me. Stress that I put myself under to give the best stories to you that I can.

What’s pissing me off, you ask? I’ll tell you.

I released T IS FOR… in 2013. In 2014 I translated that book into German. Since the original was already way too long for a series that was meant to consist of novellas or short novels only, and then the German translation turned out to be even 20% longer, which resulted in being 120,000 words, I had to split the German book. But to stay consistent in numbering the Grover Beach Team books, I made a sever decision. I split T IS FOR… in half as well.

Now I knew it was risky, because there’ll always be those who complain loudly, but I felt like it was the right way to go. I POINTED OUT EVERYWHERE what was going on. I wrote several warning posts on it, explaining exactly what I was doing. I also put a HUGE warning into the blurb on Amazon.

Why is it my fault that some people don’t read?

KISS WITH CHERRY FLAVOR is getting one bad review after the other, where people complain about the book being “only” the freaking end of T IS FOR… Of course it is, and if you’d have taken ten seconds to read the blurb or any post I recently threw out, you’d have known.

If you missed all the red lights and warnings and bought the book anyway then, for goodness’ sake, return the book to Amazon and get your money refunded. But please don’t blame me for your being ignorant.

So yeah, I’m super sorry things turned out like this, but I’ll definitely take a time-out from writing right now. It’s not fun anymore. Thank you.

From the heart,

Anna

Kiss and make up with Tony!

Hey folks,

You know what’s happening at midnight, right? Of course, Kiss with Cherry Flavor will be released!

Here’s a big YAY from my end which I hope you will echo once you finished reading Sam&Tony’s story. And to get you in the right mood, let’s start right where we left the two of them hanging at the end of book one. ;)

KISS WITH CHERRY FLAVOR

Ten minutes ago…

 

TONY MITCHELL WAS driving me insane!

Why wouldn’t he kiss me? Okay, if it wasn’t what he wanted, fine. I could deal with that. But then he should at least keep some distance. It had been the second time we’d gotten this close today, and still he’d pulled back in the last possible instant. Was he thinking I didn’t care? That I had no feelings at all?

Behind me, the rain pounded on trees and bushes and squashed the many tiny flowers in this romantic little wood. Only an hour ago, in Caroline Jackson’s garden, he’d been gushing about this forest like it was his personal land of milk and honey and I’d asked Tony to show me the enchanting place that had inspired him to draw so much as a child. Now I wished we’d gone straight home instead. That way, there would have been less acting like he was going to kiss me and not going through with it.

I was on my way up to a narrow but high crack in the rock face that Tony had pointed out to me when the hard rain had set in. We could hide out there until the worst was over, but climbing wasn’t easy when the rain tried with everything in its power to wash me back down the sleek rocks. I sniffed and fought against the tears that still stung in my eyes from Tony’s latest rebuff. Was I hurt? That didn’t even scratch the truth. But I couldn’t show Tony how much he’d really gotten to me today.

Luckily, he was climbing away from me on his way down from the small ledge that we’d been standing on together a couple of minutes ago while marveling at the beautiful landscape. This afternoon, Tony had presented me with a paddock full of horses for live models after I’d been struggling all week to draw a galloping horse from memory for my arts class. Now, my backpack with my finished drawing of Jostle, Mrs. Jackson’s stallion, was still down by the tree where Tony’s mountain bike also stood, exposed to the merciless rain. I’d worked so hard on that picture this afternoon. Then, surprised by the weather, I’d totally forgotten about it. But not Tony. He rushed down to save it so I didn’t have to start from scratch again.

In the meantime, I fought my way up, using the tiny protrusions in the rock face to step on. Above me and a little to the left, I could see the narrow cave that Tony had pointed out to me. It didn’t look very comfortable, but it was enough to give us shelter from the rain. I took a deep breath and another step upward, then another breath and one more step, trying to keep focused and ignore the ache in my heart. It was crucial to get myself together again before Tony came back up. He wouldn’t get a chance to see how much the almost-kiss had shaken me. I could act nonchalant.

Or so I hoped.

But frankly, his game of nearness and distance was killing me. Why was it so hard for him to make up his mind? Kiss me—or not! Want me—or not! That wasn’t such a hard decision to make. An undeniable flame sizzled between us; he had to feel it too. Heck, he could have easily set the wood on fire with the hot look he’d given me just before he… Well, before he didn’t kiss me.

A deep sigh escaped me. Was I really making things up here? Maybe Tony hadn’t been interested in me from the beginning. I probably just wasn’t his type because, let’s face it, I wasn’t Lisa Matthews, his one and only love. I was merely Samantha Summers, Chloe Summers’ terrible cousin and the girl Tony called dwarf more often than my real name.

Now wasn’t this fantastic? Why did I ever start falling in love with a jackass like him? Just because he’d let me doze off on his shoulder at Lisa’s sleepover yesterday? Or because he hadn’t hesitated to drive me to Doc Hunter when I hurt my knee in the woods on our camping trip?

The answer was no—because I’d started to fall for Tony even before all that. It was the moment he pulled me out of the brook in the woods and gave me his sweatshirt to wear when mine was soaking wet. It was the first real act of friendship Tony had offered in the time I’d known him. Not much really, but to me it had meant a lot. And from there it had just gotten worse. I didn’t want to be in love with Tony, but after today, when he helped me out with the horses and acted so sweetly it gave me goosebumps, it was hard not to be.

All right, I might have been mistaken before. Focusing on my steps wasn’t preventing me from mulling over Tony Mitchell at all. And now I’d reached a dead end, too. I had to climb a little to the left and then down again to reach the cave. Squatting, I slid down and landed on my butt on the mossy, wet rock. It didn’t matter really, because my clothes were drenched already anyway. One last, big step forward and I stood under the cave’s protective shelter. Finally.

When I turned around, Tony was already coming up the same way. Of course, he was much faster and a skilled climber. In my defense, he was a head taller than I was and had much longer legs, too.

Unlike me, he didn’t drop to his butt to slide into the cave. Instead, he obviously intended to jump. In this narrow crack of a cave, I didn’t know where to step to get out of his way. Right behind me was a rock, so I quickly stepped onto it and pressed myself flat against the wall behind me to give him as much space as I could so he wouldn’t land right on top of me.

When he leaped forward, I held my breath, because suddenly he was right in my face with his hands planted on either side of my head on the rock wall behind me. That’s how he stopped himself from squishing me like a blueberry. His nose was almost touching mine. Like I said, there was little to no space in this cave—hardly enough room for two.

Still, he could have at least given me a few more inches to breathe. Only, he didn’t seem to want that…

Thanks to the rock underneath me, my height for once matched Tony’s. Well, almost. Merely a few more centimeters, and we’d have been on eye level. It didn’t happen often, but whenever it did, the butterflies in my belly came out to play, and I already felt the first one tickling my insides. I wanted to crush it in my fist, but it was impossible, because it had brought too many of its friends and the tickling sensation in my stomach was getting worse by the second.

Mud stained Tony’s white, short-sleeved shirt, which now clung to his body like a second skin. From his blond hair, rain dripped down on my face and one drop slid down my nose. I had no chance to wipe it off, because at that moment Tony dipped his head those last couple inches and brushed the drop away with the tip of his own nose.

What the heck was he doing to me?

Was he starting this awful game again? Looking like he was going to kiss me and then pulling back? I should have run away that very instant and not looked back. Except, there was a rock wall behind me, Tony’s arms hemming me in, and his blue, blue eyes right in front of me. I was trapped, literally.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the worst position I’d ever been in.

Tony’s breaths feathered against my skin. With my knees turned to rubber, I braced myself against his chest, so as not to tumble from the rock I was standing on. “You shouldn’t do this,” I said, my barely audible voice trembling. I was wet to the bone and shivering, and yet, I didn’t feel cold, not one little bit.

“Why not?” Annoyingly, Tony didn’t sound half as insecure and nervous as I did. And instead of pulling back that instant, like he’d done before when I’d thought he was going to kiss me, he obviously decided to tease me some more. Gently, he stroked the tip of his nose across the sensitive skin beneath my left eye. It felt so good, I couldn’t turn my head away.

“Because you don’t really want it,” I breathed helplessly against his cheek. My lips brushing against his warm, damp skin was my undoing, and I got the feeling that he really liked it.

“Do you want it?” he asked me.

No! Yes… No.

Tony’s lips moved behind my ear to kiss me there. My entire body began to shudder from the pleasure of it. My hands glided up over his firm chest and I slid my fingers under the straps of my backpack, which he was still carrying on his shoulders. Did I really want to kiss him?

Okay, maybe I did… But just a little bit.

“That doesn’t matter,” was what I told him.

“It matters to me.”

It did? Since when? “I can’t seem to figure out what’s going on inside your head.”

Tony shrugged one shoulder. “You don’t have to.” Because he was still nuzzling the side of my neck, I couldn’t see his face, but he sounded every bit mysterious…and so seductive. How was I supposed to ever make sense of this guy?

“See, that’s the problem. You’re confusing me. Everything you say seems to be at war with everything you do.” Really, I wanted to push him away from me, but for some reason, I did the exact opposite and used the straps of my backpack to pull him even closer. “This really is a bad idea.” And it totally was. Only, I didn’t care anymore. I pressed my cheek against his.

“You sound like you’ve never done anything stupid in your life,” Tony whispered and continued placing little kisses on the underside of my jaw.

I’d done lots of stupid things, all right. But none of them ever evoked this crazy butterfly feeling in my gut, which I knew at this very moment I’d never ever get rid of again.

“Not like this. I think it would change too much…for me.”

Tony’s muscles tensed for a split second. He knew I was right. And it might very well bring an abrupt end to our sizzling moment.

It would have been wise to wish for it. To hope this moment would end the same way as the almost-kiss before. But I couldn’t. Earlier in his aunt’s stables, I’d already been more than ready for a kiss. The entire afternoon together with him had just been too beautiful. The memory of him surprising me in my uncle’s gym, where I’d been dancing, surfaced in my mind. Thinking of the way he’d made me sit on the handlebar of his mountain bike and how he’d helped me down from the stallion after riding it—all these things made me want to kiss him even more. I really shouldn’t let him but, frankly, who could have resisted a guy who jogged a horse for twenty minutes so I could finish my drawing for my art class?

Tony touched his forehead to mine. Right then I forgot how to breathe. I closed my eyes but could still feel his gaze on my face. Like he was waiting for me to look at him. Eventually, I gathered all my bravery and opened my eyes again, locking gazes with him. His eyes gleamed with a determination that I hadn’t seen in them before. “You think too much, Bungee,” he told me in a soft voice.

In the next instant, his mouth was on mine. I didn’t want to give in, but I could do nothing to stop myself. My eyes closed, and I tilted my face just that last little bit to meet his gentle lips. Tony stroked the inside of my wrists with his thumbs, then pulled my hands away from him and laced his fingers through mine, tightening his hold.

My knees turned weak again. My head spun wilder than a carousel. But inwardly I raged. It felt so beautiful for me, while for Tony…this was only a game. After his last rebuff only minutes ago, it was clear the kiss didn’t mean half as much to him as it did to me. I was going to be the loser in this gamble, because I had put my heart on the line.

But he wouldn’t stop kissing me.

His tongue stroked a seductive path along my bottom lip, then he easily worked my mouth open, our lips moving together in a soft rhythm. So effortlessly, he had me giving it all.

Our tongues touched, slid against each other. It lit my body with a flaming tingle that centered at the base of my belly.

And then, it was over. Just like that, Tony pulled away. Utter shock gleamed in his eyes, like he’d come to his senses, and I got what I deserved for being so stupid. My heart fell and fell until I could have stomped on it with my feet. Or Anthony Mitchell could, because he was actually doing so right now.

There you go, Sam. Happy now?

Tony released my hands and raked his fingers through his wet hair, turning toward the forest and then back to me. “Ah, Sam…listen—”

“No,” I cut him off, almost in a panic. “Just—don’t—say anything.” I didn’t want to hear his apologies or excuses for a moment that was so beautiful. It wasn’t his fault alone. I should have known better. After all, it was Lisa he wanted, not me.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to push back my hurt before it overcame me. Then I shrugged and even smiled. “We kissed. It doesn’t have to happen again. It’s all right.”

Tony hesitated. He didn’t show any of my forced nonchalance, but eventually he nodded.

I stepped off the rock, leaving the comfort zone of Tony’s eye level, and walked out into the rain that had lightened to a drizzle in the past couple of minutes. Climbing down the rock face, I looked up at him between watching my steps. “Just don’t go back to being an asshole,” I said with a warning note in my voice.

A sly smile appeared on his face. Finally. “Can I call you Tiny?”

Resisting to flip him the bird, I stuck my tongue out at him instead. “If you want me to kick your shins, go ahead!”

My feet touched the ground, and Tony was down two seconds after me. We walked to his bike, but instead of mounting it, he looked both ways along the path, deliberating. “Are you cold?” he asked me. “If you want, we can go back to Carrie’s house and wait until the rain stops.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, I am. A little. But I’d rather go home now.”

After a curt nod, Tony wheeled his mountain bike in the opposite direction from which we’d come, and when we left the woods and returned to a paved street, he had me sit on his handlebar like before. With the wind and the rain gushing at my face and bare arms, I was freezing. But the cold also numbed my mind, and I was glad I couldn’t start thinking about what had happened back in the forest. Later, when I’d be alone in my room, would be soon enough.

Tony helped me down in front of my aunt’s house and handed me the backpack, but before I could walk inside, he grabbed my hand and held me back. Surprised, I spun around.

For a brief moment, Tony looked strangely forlorn. Then he cleared his throat, tightening his grip around my wrist a little more as if he expected me to wrestle free and run off.

“Look, I know you said it’s cool, but I’m…” He paused and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You’re a nice girl. And I kinda like hanging out with you.”

I kept my expression blank. “But…”

His answer took a while to come. “But I’m just not doing the girlfriend thing right now.”

“Yeah, I figured that out.” For him, it was either Lisa or nobody. “And I told you, it’s okay. I’m not looking for a boyfriend.” Or so I would tell myself for the rest of the day. And in the end, maybe I’d believe it too.

Giving him a tight little smile, I pulled my hand away from his. “See you tomorrow at lunch?”

“Sure.” He looked away.

I turned and hurried inside, out of the rain and away from the boy who’d broken my heart this afternoon. As soon as the door banged shut, I slumped against it and ugly, fat tears spilled down my cheeks.

“Sam, is that you?” my aunt shouted from the kitchen a couple of seconds before she appeared in the doorway.

It was too late to dry my tears. Pam rushed to me and cupped my face with her warm palms. “Darling, what happened? You’re wet to the bone, and why are you crying?”

“We got caught in the rain,” I choked out, then sank into my aunt’s caring embrace, sobbing into her shoulder. “And he kissed me.”

“Who? Tony?”

Nodding, I looked up. And it was just my luck that Chloe was standing behind Pamela, her face full of horror. She didn’t stay long enough to hear the end of the story, but whirled around and dashed upstairs. A moment later, the thunder of her door slamming echoed through the house.

Pam looked over her shoulder, oblivious to what was going on. Then she held me tighter against her chest and caressed my hair. “If he kissed you, why are you feeling miserable?”

“Because he didn’t want to,” I told her truthfully. “I don’t know why he did it. But he said he didn’t want me to be his girlfriend. He’s still in love with a friend of mine. Has been his entire life.”

“Oh, Sammy. He must feel something for you if he kissed you. Maybe he just needs a little more time to understand what he really wants.” Stroking my bangs out of my face, she gave me an encouraging look. “Who’s the other girl?”

“Lisa Matthews. She’s with Jessie Hunter’s son.”

Realization shone in her eyes. Pam pressed a soft kiss to my brow. “Be patient. He’ll see that you’re everything she is. And more.”

I gave her a tight hug, grateful that she was here for me when I needed her. Her comforting words meant a lot to me. And they actually gave me hope that she might be right. Even if a relationship wasn’t in his plans, Tony wouldn’t have kissed me if he hadn’t felt anything for me.

Soaking in a long, hot bath helped clear my mind of all the shit that was going on inside me. When I came out of the bathroom an hour later, I felt light and refreshingly confident. But most of all I felt cozy and warm in my sweatpants and a dark gray fleece pullover.

I flopped onto my bed with my cell phone in hand and keyed in a message for Susan. It was time to tell somebody about this odd afternoon. I had just sent the text when my glance skated over my backpack, which sat totally forgotten next to my door.

Taking it with me onto the bed, I pulled out my folder to examine my latest work. I still thought it was perfection. When I shoved it back into the folder, I found another drawing inside. Strangely enough, this one wasn’t by me—but of me.

My mouth fell open. In my hands, I held a portrait of me on Jostle, galloping across the paddock. It was done in light lines, just a rough sketch, but the features were accurate, my hair and the stallion’s mane wafted in the wind, and Tony had even caught my joyful laugh. His signature across the bottom right corner brought a smile to my lips.

I was bored.

T.

A whistle from my cell phone told me Susan had read my text and replied. Of course, she was shouting for deets about the kissing. I’d call her in a minute, but first I had to do something else. Tony’s drawing reminded me that he’d said he wanted to email me something. Wondering if there was already an email waiting for me, I booted up my laptop, and opened my inbox.

There were a few spam emails, then one from my mom sending me pictures of our neighbor’s birthday party, and two from friends in Finland that I still wrote to every once in a while. But none from Tony. My heart sank a little then, yet I refused to let this spoil my joy over his picture.

I dialed Susan’s number, then squeezed the cell between my ear and shoulder and typed a reply to my friends while I waited for Susan to pick up.

“Hey! What’s going on?” she screeched in my ear. Startled, I let the cell drop onto the bed.

“A lot. And then nothing,” I told her when I had the phone back in place.

“What do you mean, nothing? You spent the afternoon with Tony. Alone, for heaven’s sake. Tell. Me. All about it!”

I sighed and rolled my eyes, but I also laughed. “He came over, found me practicing in my uncle’s gym, and made me come to his aunt’s. She has horses, and I needed a live model for my AVE project.”

“Wow. He just walked into your house like that? Did Chloe see him?”

Finishing the first email and sending it off, I answered, “Yeah. She wasn’t happy. But I really don’t care. It’s their problem, not mine.”

“So what happened next?” From her excited voice I knew she wanted me to get to the part where Tony kissed me.

“He had me sit on his bike, and we rode to his aunt’s.”

“That worked?”

“Yes. It was scary as heck, but we made it there all right. I worked on that one drawing I needed, and afterwards I got to ride a gorgeous stallion.”

“Tony?” she teased.

“Ha. Ha.” I sent off the second email then closed the lid of my laptop, dedicating my undivided attention to Susan. “But you know what? He drew a picture of me while I was on the horse. I didn’t know about it. Just found it in my folder.”

There was a stunned pause at the other end, then Susan sighed dreamily into the phone. “Aw, this is so romantic. Lisa was right. He must really like you.”

“I thought so when he kissed me in the woods,” I confessed then. “But he broke off the kiss before it got hot, telling me he didn’t want the girlfriend-boyfriend shit.”

“Dang.”

“Yeah. So that’s that. It won’t happen again.”

“Shame…” A smile sneaked into her voice. “But did you like it? How was it? Is he a good kisser?”

“It was…” Amazing, wonderful, breathtaking, sweet, and gut-wrenchingly hot. “…nice.”

“Oh.” Hard to miss her disappointment.

At that moment, my laptop made a low ding sound. I opened it again and found a new email in my inbox. From Tony. My heart zigzagged wildly inside my chest.

“Hey, Susan,” I said, trying to mask my excitement. “Can I call you back later? There’s…another call coming in.”

“Sure.”

I rang off and tossed the phone onto my pillow. This would give Susan time to call Simone and Lisa and spread the news.

Struggling to rein in my quickened breath, I opened Tony’s message.

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 20:59

Subject: helpful material

1 Attachment (1.65 MB)

 

Hey Sam,

 

Here’s the material on how to draw bodies.

I hope you didn’t catch a cold in the rain.

 

T.

 

Though his message was short, it didn’t escape me that he’d added a personal line. It kept my heartbeat in a fast rhythm.

The attached file contained detailed descriptions with sample pictures for each step. I scrolled through them and couldn’t wait to use this information for my next project. I saved it with my personal files then went to type a reply.

___________________________

From: Samantha Summers

To: Anthony J. Mitchell

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 21:13

Subject: no cold

 

Thanks for the file. And for saving the drawing(s) today.

 

Sam

 

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 21:14

Subject: You’re welcome

 

You’re welcome.

 

To say I hadn’t hoped for a longer reply would have been a lie. But what did I expect really? A romantic letter with hundreds of explanations as to why this afternoon had gotten out of control? Well…a girl could dream, right?

I put on some music and read the instructions in Tony’s file carefully, which kept me captivated for over an hour. In the end, I stretched with a wide yawn and closed all the windows I had open on my laptop. The last one was my inbox, and I noticed with surprise that there was another email from Tony. He’d sent it twenty minutes ago, but with my music playing, I hadn’t heard the ding.

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 22:02

Subject: I’m sure even the horse had one…

1 Attachment (1.05 MB)

 

I thought you might like to have this, too. It’s what I used when I started drawing faces.

You really need to break your obsession with dimples, Bungee. ;-)

 

T.

 

What was he playing at? Hinting that I shouldn’t get obsessed with his dimples, because there was no chance for us? This time I didn’t open the attachment but immediately typed a reply. With any luck he was still on his computer and I would get another email tonight.

___________________________

From: Samantha Summers

To: Anthony J. Mitchell

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 22:26

Subject: No. It. Didn’t.

 

It’s not an obsession, it’s merely a preference. :P

Just like how some guys prefer tall girls to small ones.

 

Why do you keep calling me Bungee?

 

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 22:29

Subject: Because I’m not allowed to call you Tiny

 

I prefer you standing on a rock when I kiss you.

 

SENT FROM MY iPHONE

 

My heart lurched to my throat as I read his message several times. It was so…intimate. Biting my bottom lip, I smiled to myself. I never would have dared to believe he’d come up with something this personal. Especially when he kept blocking me from personal stuff.

___________________________

From: Samantha Summers

To: Anthony J. Mitchell

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 22:40

Subject: Did you go to bed? Using your iPhone now?

 

You didn’t answer my question.

 

And I could tell you liked me at eye level. So much so that you bit my lip.

 

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 22:44

Subject: Playing video games with Frederickson

 

I did answer. See subject of last email.

And I didn’t bite your lip. I nibbled. A little.

 

You taste good.

 

SENT FROM MY iPHONE

 

___________________________

From: Samantha Summers

To: Anthony J. Mitchell

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 22:47

Subject: CAN HE SEE WHAT YOU’RE WRITING??

 

Why are we talking about kissing now?

 

That was not a real answer. You dodged the question.

 

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 22:51

Subject: Unlock your caps

 

No, he can’t see what I’m writing. Obviously.

We’re talking about kissing now because Frederickson made me talk about it. Apparently, he heard it from Hunter, who got it from Liz.

 

Did you talk to Susan?

 

SENT FROM MY iPHONE

 

Shit. I hadn’t realized the news would make the rounds this quickly. But then, we never said we’d keep it a secret. Was that a problem? Well, it could become one at school. Maybe he didn’t like Lisa knowing that he’d kissed me. If he was still working on a chance to steal her back from Ryan, this information could mean his downfall. Then again, in his email, he didn’t sound angry, exactly. I might be safe.

___________________________

From: Samantha Summers

To: Anthony J. Mitchell

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 23:01

Subject: Yes. Is that a problem?

 

If so…sorry. But that’s what girls do. They tell each other shit from their life.

 

Tell Nick I said hi.

 

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 23:03

Subject: Not for me

 

SHIT? FROM YOUR LIFE? Are you referring to me kissing you??

 

Nick just left. He wanted to give us some privacy.

 

SENT FROM MY iPHONE

 

___________________________

From: Samantha Summers

To: Anthony J. Mitchell

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 23:04

Subject: Re: Unlock your caps

 

Do we need privacy?

 

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 23:08

Subject: It’s a school night

 

I don’t think we do, but it’s nice to get some anyway.

 

Shouldn’t little (ßnote I said little and not tiny) girls like you be in bed at this time of the night, Bungee?

 

SENT FROM MY iPHONE

 

___________________________

From: Samantha Summers

To: Anthony J. Mitchell

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 23:10

Subject: Your fault

 

I won’t be able to sleep until you tell me why you call me that.

 

___________________________

From: Anthony J. Mitchell

To: Samantha Summers

Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2013 23:16

Subject: c u @ lunch

 

All right. But only because I don’t want to be the reason for your sleepless night.

 

It’s just a nickname I gave you when I was talking to Hunter the other day. You and the girls were practicing while we were playing soccer. I saw you stretching against a tree.

You’re flexible like a freaking bungee cord…

 

Now sleep tight, Sammy. ;-)

 

Here’s a lullaby for you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a30tg02JwDc

 

SENT FROM MY iPHONE

 

It took a couple of seconds for the information to sink in, then my heart skipped a beat. He’d watched me cheerleading. He’d talked to Ryan about me. And he’d given me a nickname. All while he was still supposed to hate me. What did that mean?

I clicked the link and couldn’t believe what came up on YouTube. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. “Heigh-Ho.” Laughing out loud, I shut down my laptop and went to sleep.

***

 

Get the whole book from Amazon!

Kiss with Cherry Flavor (Grover Beach Team, 4)

Susan Miller has a title!

I know how impatiently all of you are waiting for Susan Miller’s book to come out. Well, I can’t write a book in a couple of days, but I’m working hard on finishing it in a couple of months. For now, let me cheer you up with revealing the title and blurb of book 5 in the Grover Beach Team series. ;)

 

Here goes…

 

Dating Trouble

 

When bookworm Susan Miller hurts her leg playing soccer, she has no idea it could be the start of her very own love story—a story specked with trouble.

Trapped on the sidelines watching her friends practice for the winter season, all her anger is directed at the player the team captain replaced her with. And yet, her replacement has the sweetest smile she’s ever seen.

Against all odds, the guy charms her into a date. But when Susan sees him at school the next day, he acts as if he’s never seen her before and even makes fun of her in front of his friends. Worse, he’s very obviously trying to hook up with another girl.

Embarrassed and hurt, Susan decides to forget about this moron. Not too difficult of a job—until she runs into him again. She is already confused enough because, without his friends, he’s completely different. But then, on top of it all, she starts to see double.

 

Are you hooked? ;)

I’m spending a lot of time right now finding the right pictures for a possible cover. It’ll take another little while, but as soon as it’s done, I’ll let you catch a glimpse and will also put up the book for preorder. As of now, the tentative release date is Valentines day, 2015. But you know me, once the book is finished and edited, I’ll move the release date forward as far as possible.

In the meantime I have a little teaser for you. Enjoy!

I BANGED MY head against Ryan Hunter’s shoulder. “Kill me now!”

“Aw, why so tragic, booklover?” Hunter wrapped an arm around me and dragged me through the gate of the soccer field behind our high school. “It’s only for ten weeks. Grab a nice tear jerker, drool over Edward Twilight, and time will fly by.”

“Cullen.”

“What?”

“His name is Edward Cullen, not Edward Twilight.” I rolled my eyes. “And I’ve read that one years ago.”

“Right. Whatever.” He patted my back. “I’m sure you’ll find another great book to keep yourself busy until you can play soccer again with us.”

I cast him a sharp sideways look, meeting his encouraging one. “Do you honestly want to know how many books I’ll have to read in that time to keep me sane?”

Ryan grimaced. “Um, no.”

“Probably five-hundred and seven—and then some. Gah! I hate Doctor Trooper. How could he do this to me?”

A laugh escaped Ryan. It was that typical for him chilled sound. “Come on, Miller. It’s really not the end of the world.”

“You say that because you don’t have to sit over there!” I pointed a thumb over my shoulder at the bench at the sidelines. But at Ryan’s helpless look and shrug, I forced the drawer of my frustration closed again. It wasn’t his fault that my leg was out of order for the winter season. That was courtesy to a girl player from the Riverfalls Rabid Wolves. She’d nearly kicked my kneecap to outer space during a recent soccer match. Boy, that had hurt. I’d wanted to throw myself on the ground and bawl like a baby. But then there’d been too many guys around; I couldn’t do that.

Ryan released me, stooped down, and pulled his right white sock higher to cover his shin guard. While he re-tied the laces of his cleat, he angled his head to look up at me and squinted against the sun on this late November afternoon. “Will you stay and watch the training? Lisa’s supposed to show up later.”

I grinned. “That was my plan.” His girlfriend, Lisa Matthews, was one of my best friends, and we’d talked on the phone before I came down here.

While Ryan jogged over to Tony Mitchell, Alex Winter, and Nick Frederickson—all members of the Grover Beach Bay Sharks—I only wiggled my fingers at them, then I headed for the single bench at the sideline in front of the bleachers. I did bring a book today, and it was not Twilight, but I also wanted to watch my friends practice.

The coming ten weeks were bound to be pure torture. Since last summer, soccer had become a solid part of my life. Not that I was any good at it, but I loved the team sport. It was also nice how I had turned from a lazy bookworm to an athlete who could actually run three miles without dying of breathlessness due to Hunter’s excessive training schedule—and still be a bookworm. But speaking of physique, there was one thing better than all the rest, even if it might not have a lot to do with soccer training after all. Straightening my light blue shirt that was a tight fit, I looked down at my front and smiled, because I’d finally grown the curves I’d been praying for over the past couple of years. Phew. I mentally wiped my forehead. No girl should get her driver’s license before her boobs. That’s just cruel.

As I reached the bench, I looked up again and, what the hell— I stopped dead.

A guy was sprawled out across the seating, with his arms folded behind his head, gazing at the sky. Or maybe he was asleep, I couldn’t tell, because he’d pulled his ball cap deep down his forehead. Headphones were plugged in his ears. The sound of Volbeat drifted loudly to me, even from five feet away. Hmm, he had good taste in music. In clothes…not so much. Dark brown sneakers, brown shorts and a yellow tee gave him a crazy Peanuts look.

I didn’t know who this guy was, or why he occupied my seat, but since I was still part of this soccer team and he was not, it was only fair to shoo him away. There were enough empty seats on the bleachers where he could continue his Tuesday afternoon nap.

I walked up to his side, slapped his knee with the back of my hand, and waited until he pulled the earphones out; well, one of them at least. “Hey, Charlie Brown, this is my seat,” I said with a voice that left no room for discussion. Or so I hoped. I wasn’t the typical commander. That was my friend Simone’s job; she had that down to the last bat of her eyelashes. But today I thought I’d pulled a pretty good imitation.

The guy angled his head to my side, took off his cap, and ran a relaxed hand through his short hair that was the color of sunlight hitting glass. He blinked his steel gray eyes a couple of times. A slow smile crawled across his face. “Sorry, I didn’t know this bench had your name on it.”

Hah! Bad mistake! “Well, if you look again, I’m sure you’ll find it carved somewhere into one of the laths.” Simone Simpkins and I had eternalized ourselves here sometime last summer. We’d tried to talk Lisa into it, too, but she’d only rolled her eyes. She’d always been the most reasonable one of us.

The guy’s smile ceased to an intrigued expression, where one of his eyebrows wandered upward. “Is that so?” he drawled.

I dumped my backpack next to my grey vintage boots and crossed my arms over my chest. Charlie Brown finally worked up the decency to sit up. The longer I looked at his face, the more it seemed familiar. I might have seen this guy at one of Hunter’s parties already but, for Christ’s sake, I couldn’t fish his name from my mind.

However, he didn’t leave, which grated on my nerves, because my leg always hurt the most when I was standing and I really needed to sit down soon. Now, he pulled out the second earpiece, scooted down to one end of the bench and, without words, offered me a seat beside him. With a snort, I accepted the offer.

Eight days after the accident, I didn’t need crutches any longer, and I could even climb stairs again without dragging my injured leg in an awkward way after me. But sitting down proved a little complicated after all, because my knee still hurt when I bent it in a full right angle and over. So, as usual, I kept my right leg as straight as possible and slumped in slow motion down on my bench.

The Peanut copy had put his cap back on and the cable of his headphones around his neck. Right now he ogled me in a peculiar way—I could see that from the corner of my eye.

“You’re Susan Miller, aren’t you?” he mumbled over the noise still coming from his headphones.

My gaze got stuck on the red shark that grinned from the ten by ten foot poster at the other side of the soccer field and I nearly choked on dry air. Slowly, I turned to his side. “And just which little bird told you that?”

“Not a bird. Your knee did.” He rubbed his neck and tilted his head in a way that made me think of how Mom had told me I’d fried my ant farm at age six, because I’d let them take a sun bath on my window sill on a dramatically hot August day.

“And unless I’m totally mistaken,” he continued and managed to even look sweet when he grimaced, “I’m your replacement player.”

“You. Are. What?” I jumped up as gracefully as I could, which wasn’t graceful at all, and stemmed my fists to my waist. “Hunter!” I blurted across the field, then I turned back to Charlie Brown, blowing air out of my nose like a bull in an arena. I all but scraped a booted hoof on the dirt ground. “Listen, just because I’m temporarily out of order, it doesn’t mean you can come and take my place. Hunter!”

The guy rose to his feet, placating me with his palms up, but I didn’t give him a chance to speak as I already raved on. “I’ll be back to my awesome normal in just a few weeks, and then I’ll be able to play soccer again, just like before. No need for anyone to jump in for me. HUNTER! Get your sorry ass over here, now!”

Charlie Brown bit his bottom lip. “Ryan said the news probably wouldn’t go down well with you. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you yet.”

Oh no, he hadn’t told me. What the hell? I was unable to play for a while, not for forever. No need to run off and find the next best guy to replace me. “What’s going on here?!” I screeched, as Ryan drew up beside me.

Ryan Hunter sucked in a breath between sheepishly clenched teeth. “Ugh, did I forget to tell you that I found someone to play with us for the time that you can’t?”

“Obviously so!” At my killer gaze, Ryan took a step back. Wow, I didn’t know I was that good. I could have let a sly grin slip right now, but I didn’t.

“Calm down, Sue,” the guy in brown shorts said in a soothing sort of way and reached out to touch my arm. He cast Ryan a boy scouts look and a subtle nod—gah, did he really think I hadn’t seen that?—and the next second, Ryan shot off, back to the others.

“No one calls me Sue,” I growled at Charlie Brown and pulled my arm away.

“Okay, then let me be the first and let this be our secret.” He winked at me and, to my total surprise, he cut me silent with it.

With my head slightly cocked, I gazed up those few inches that he had on me. He smiled all the way to his ears. Because of his looking so sweet when he did, I was ready to give him ten seconds to say whatever was on his mind.

“I’m not going to take your place. I used to play soccer a few years ago, and when Ryan asked me to play for a while, I said yes to do him a favor.” Carefully as not to be too intimate it seemed, he placed his hands on my shoulders and moved me back to the bench. Then he helped me sit down again and squatted in front of me, elbows resting in his thighs, so we were eye to eye. “I promise to be gone the day that your leg is fine and you can take over again. How’s that?”

He smelled like lemon grass and Coke popsicles. Awesome.

I drew in another deep breath and finally let my frustration sail off on the ship of a sigh. With my index, I shoved my glasses farther up my nose. I normally didn’t bring them to soccer practice, but since I wasn’t going to play but read today, I had no choice. “I guess that’s okay.”

“Great.” He clapped his hands once, stood up, and placed his white iPod on the bench next to me. “Take care of this for me?”

I nodded and noticed that he hadn’t turned the music off.

The guy headed away, but after only a few steps, he twisted to me again, walking backward. “I’m Ethan, by the way.” He shrugged and grinned. “Just in case you wanted to know.”

GIVEAWAY

Hey everybody!

This is a GIVEAWAY, and I hope one you’ll like, too.

 

The RULES:

Below you’ll find an ad and an excerpt from NEVERLAND. Now, I’d like you to feature the book on your blog for a couple of days until Sunday. Start the blog post with: Have you read an Anna-book? (and a winking smiley ;) )

Then post the picture.

Next, post the excerpt.

And finally, post the buy link and a link to my website. You really only have to copy everything from the post below and paste it into your own.

When it’s online, leave the link to it in a comment together with your email or any other contacts where I can reach you.

 

The PRIZE:

A $30 Amazon gift card, or a signed book of your choice.

I’ll pick a winner on Monday and let you know by updating this post. If you added your email in the comment, I’ll also contact you to inform you.

 

And here we go…

 

Have you read an Anna-book? ;)

The best reason why you should read an Anna-Book?

NEVERLAND ;)

I try to rush past him and get off the ship, but Hook captures me easily with one arm around my waist and pulls me back. I fall against his rock-hard chest, away from the gangplank that two of his men pull in.

“Put her out, Smee!” he shouts over my head to another young man dressed completely in black, who appears on the sterncastle. His ginger hair looks shaggy and he wears a red bandana around his neck. First, I think Hook is talking about me and wonder what he means. But moments later the pirate on the bridge yells orders to draw anchor and hoist sails. The ship starts to glide away from the shore.

I’m trapped on the Jolly Roger.

“Let go, you freaking bastard!” Thrashing about, I scream like a snake has wound around my waist instead of his arm. On second thought, Hook is just as bad as a snake.

His mocking laughter rumbles in my ear. “There, there. Who taught you such nasty words, little Miss London?”

My elbow connects with his diaphragm and smacks the damn grin right off his face. I’m free and stumble away. With one hand pressed to his chest, Hook bends forward and pushes out a cough. He clearly underestimated me. This is my only chance, but we’re already too far out, and several members of his smudgy crew are blocking my sight to the shore, backing him up. There’s no time to think. Frantically, I spin around, dash across the ship and climb onto the railing. Gathering all the power I have inside me, I leap out and plummet fifteen feet into the waves.

The cold water takes me under in a wild spin, determined to smash me against the belly of the ship. Seconds pass, I battle to gain back control of my limbs and orientation. With lungs compressed to the size of tennis balls, I push up from the watery depths and finally break through the surface, sputtering water from mouth and nose, and suck in a lifesaving breath.

“Look what we’ve got down there, Cap’n!” I hear Smee’s faint laughter from deck and turn to find most of the men standing behind the railing, gaping down at me with dirty grins. “A mermaid.”

The crowd parts and Hook steps through. Slowly, he braces his hands on the railing, leans forward and arches his brow. “Was that really necessary?”

Yeah, it would all be so easy for him if I just played the nice captive. But I don’t think so. To get back on land, I have to swim around the ship, so I start paddling and struggle through the water with arms weak from hunger.

“What now? Are you trying to swim away? Back to London?”

I don’t answer Hook’s amused shout but swim faster. The tied sleeves around my waist loosen and my sweatshirt slips away. Hastily I reach underwater to grab it, but I can’t get a hold. If the situation wasn’t so dire, the fact the sea swallowed my Pirates of the Caribbean hoodie would have made me laugh. I swim on.

“Come on, Angel. You’ll never make it. If we don’t catch you, the sharks will.”

Refusing to let his taunting words put me in a panic, I grit my teeth and ignore him.

“Aaaaangeeeel…!” He keeps pace with me, walking slowly along the railing and has fun at it, too. He sounds like he’s talking to an infant when he tells me, “We’re seventeen men and a ship against you. Why can’t you just be nice and surrender? Be my guest!”

Guest, hah! He must be bonkers. But he soon seems to reach the limits of his patience and growls, “Smee! Fish her out!”

No matter how fast I pedal, I can’t escape the fishing net that’s being cast over me then. As they pull the strings of the net together, I’m tossed about and they haul me back on board like the catch of the day. My struggling is in vain. I land like a flopping catfish on deck.

Two men with their shoulder-length hair tied in a braid grab me by my arms and yank me to my feet. “What we do with her, Cap’n?” the one to my left asks Hook. He wears an earring the size of a bracelet and both his forearms display mermaid tattoos. With his wrinkled skin and the gray streaks in his black hair, he looks to be the oldest man on board, though I doubt he’s older than his early forties. He smells like rotten fish.

“Tie her to the mast, Fin.” Hook’s order is cold, emotionless. Arms folded over his chest, he waits until I stand pressed with my back against the tallest mast on the ship, my arms yanked to the back of the pole and tied with a rough rope chafing my skin. All the time, we never break eye contact. When the pirate called Fin is done and my hands are secured, Hook waves him away.

A cold aura surrounds the captain when he moves his hands down to his belt and slowly walks over to me. The letter J is engraved in the silver buckle. Only on a second look do I realize it’s not a letter but a hook. And suddenly I wonder why he still has both his hands. The Lost Boys said he had a hook on his right arm. Apparently, he doesn’t.

“Why are you holding me prisoner on your ship?” I snap when he’s only a couple of steps away.

“Because you’re of great value. And because you have something that belongs to me.”

“Yeah? And what would that be?”

The captain takes another step forward, closing the distance between us until we share the same breath. “My heart,” he says in a strangely soft way and caresses my cheek with his fingertips.

What the heck— Too baffled, I don’t get out a single word.

His eyes stay warm when his mouth twitches into a greedy grin. He lowers his hands to my hips then strokes them gently down to my thighs. “Ah, here it is.” His grin grows wider and this time his eyes match it with a dark glint. Violating my intimate zone without warning, he shoves his hand into the right pocket of my wet jeans. I gasp. But he withdraws it a moment later—and with it, the ruby from Peter Pan.

“Give that back!” I strain to get my wrists freed. “It was a gift! You goddamn thief!”

Hook tilts the gemstone in the sun, studying it with a frown that he directs at me next, and drawls, “ How…little Angel…can I be the thief when you carry something that’s rightfully mine?”

I hesitate with my answer and lower the level of my voice. “I didn’t steal it. Peter gave it to me.”

“Yes. Peter Pan,” he says through gritted teeth. “The one damn bug that has been annoying me for decades.”

Did he say decades? Oh my God, how long has Peter really been a teenager? And the entire island never aged a day? But then I realize I’m in deeper trouble than just stuck in a timeless area. I’m stuck on a ship that’s run by a ruthless captain and his ugly-as-hell pirates. I need a plan.

“Fine. You have back what you wanted. Now take off these ropes and let me go.”

A spine-chilling chuckle sounds from his throat. “Oh, Angel, Angel. You really don’t understand, do you? This little ruby is only a pebble of my original treasure. Heaps and heaps of gold, silver and diamonds.” He holds the gem between two fingers in front of my eyes, tilting his head, and studies me closely. Then he straightens and quickly wraps his fist around the stone. He tucks it into his pocket. His voice loses all warmth. “But I’m sure you already know this. You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

Not daring to even blink, I shake my head.

“Where. Is. My treasure, Angel?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I shout, just short of a new panic. Peter Pan trusted me when he showed me the cave. I can’t betray him. Not even after he abandoned me last night. “Peter gave this to me yesterday. We sat on a hill, watched the freaking rainbow volcano, and he pulled the ruby from his shirt pocket. There sure weren’t heaps and heaps of gold hidden in there!”

He frowns, as if deliberating whether I was actually telling the truth. Spewing out a curse, he finally leaves me alone and walks to Smee who, until now, watched us silently from the railing. “What do you think, Jack? Is she lying?” Hook asks him in a lowered voice.

“I don’t know.” Smee casts a brief glance my way and scratches his left brow that’s parted by an old, whitening scar. I can’t stop wondering how many battles he’s already fought in the body of a twenty-year-old over the years. “A reckless jump off a ship?” he continues. “She seems like a tough one. Mighty fine blow she aimed at you before. I wouldn’t put it past her to lie to save the brats.”

“What do you suggest? Torture?”

I suck in a sharp breath at the thought of being hurt by these men, but both ignore me. Jack Smee raises an eyebrow at his captain. “She’s a kid, that one.”

Grimacing, Hook rubs his lower chest. “According to the blow that so obviously impressed you, she’s not.”

“Still. She’s a girl.”

His lips pursed, Hook gives me a thoughtful look. “She’s of no use to us, if she doesn’t reveal where the treasure is.” With resoluteness in his move, he turns back to Smee. “May as well let her walk the plank.”

“What?” We’ve sailed away from the island at a good speed for the past half hour. There’s nothing but water around us. “I don’t even know where the island is! You can’t expect me to swim back to the shore!”

Hook closes his eyes for a second longer and the corner of his mouth twitches up in a peculiar way. “Oh, I don’t.” He draws nearer, the heels of his boots clacking eerily on the wooden deck. “We let you get off here and the sharks will do the rest.”

Over his shoulder, I catch a glimpse of multiple dark triangular fins cutting through the water. They hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. We must be out really far. I start to tremble. Is this the right time to tell him I do know where Pan’s treasure is? Peter would hate me, and I mean really hate me, not just be miffed because I’m not aiming to stay in Neverland. And once I tell Hook, what guarantee is there he doesn’t push me off the plank anyway? Once he has the treasure, I’m definitely of no use to him.

Crap, what am I supposed to do?

Jack Smee loosens the rope around my wrists and pushes me a few steps away from the mast, then he ties my hands in the small of my back once more. As he leads me through the two rows of men, the crew cheers in anticipation of me being a shark meal.

Three men set up a board on the railing that leads out into the sea. Smee pulls me to a stop right in front of it and turns me to face Hook who’s standing with his hands clasped at his back and flashes a delighted grin.

“Any last words?” he asks me.

“Go to hell, you freaking…filthy…godforsaken…”

With a single step, he closes the distance between us. Our noses almost touch as he dips his head and brushes a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Darling, the word you’re looking for is pirate.”

 

ABOUT THE BOOK:

Why is there a boy who doesn’t want to grow up?

How can an apple start the sweetest romance in fairytale history?

And what does a ruthless pirate have to do with it all?

Although Angelina McFarland loves reading fairy tales, she never dreamed of falling right into one herself. But that’s exactly what happens when she slips on her balcony and a flying Peter Pan catches her mid-fall.

Ending up in Neverland where no one seems to age and laws of nature are out of control, Angel has no idea how to get home. Worse, the ruthless Captain Hook captures her and keeps her trapped on his ship, the Jolly Roger, where she gets caught between the lines of a timeless battle. But the more time Angel spends with the captain, the more she sees beneath his ruthless façade.

As Angel desperately tries to find a way to return to her real life, she discovers a train ticket to London in her pocket. It won’t be any help in getting off the island, but as her memory fades away the longer she stays, this is all she has left to remind her of her former life and why she can’t give up trying.

Or is staying in Neverland forever the better choice after all?

Intrigued? ;-) Grab your copy from Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Neverland-Adventures-1-Anna-Katmore-ebook/dp/B00JLA8C50

You can find out more about Anna at http://www.annakatmore.com

Follew her on Twitter @AnnaKatmore

Or say hi on her Facebook site: http://www.facebook.com/authorannakatmore

Happy reading!

Release date for T IS FOR…

Hey lovely readers and patiently waiting fans!

It’s almost time. Edits and changes for the third book in the Grover Beach Team series are done and the book will be available on September 12, 2014.

The fourth book will follow shortly after. So if you haven’t read T IS FOR… before I took it down for a second edit, you can now preorder it on Amazon.

http://www.amazon.com/T-Grover-Beach-Team-3-ebook/dp/B00MQKQL00/

But because there’s a pretty mean cliffhanger at the end of this book, I suggest you look out for the next installment already. Also up for preorder. ;)

http://www.amazon.com/Kiss-Cherry-Flavor-Grover-Beach-ebook/dp/B00MQKQTC0/

 

Here’s a little excerpt, to give you an idea of what’s coming at you with this story. ;)

“Um, hi. I’m Samantha Summers. Is Anthony home?” When I clasped my hands, I realized I was actually sweating. It made me gnash my teeth behind my closed lips. How could I let a stupid guy turn me into a ball of nerves?

Mrs. Mitchell nodded, then she shouted over her shoulder, “Tony! A friend of yours is here.”

Friend? No.

“Black hair?” came the answer from somewhere inside.

Now his mother drew her brows into a puzzled expression as she looked back at me. “Yes.” She shrugged, and it seemed like an apology.

It wasn’t her fault that her son was an ass, so I let her off with a smile.

“Give her the stack of notes! It’s on the chest!”

He didn’t intend to come to the door? Fine with me. A relieved breath escaped me, and I felt the knot in my stomach ease.

Mrs. Mitchell, however, seemed to be appalled by her son’s behavior and tried to explain in a confused but sympathetic voice, “He just came home from practice. He hasn’t showered yet and probably doesn’t want to come out all sweaty. Boys, you know.” She grimaced, and I appreciated her attempt to give me an excuse though she had no idea what was going on.

The door stood wide open as she went back to the broad wooden chest to get the notes for me. I caught a brief glimpse of the inside of the house. A long hallway opened into several rooms at either side. I liked the floor tiles. They were creamy white with a blue tile here and there.

My gaze snapped back to the blond woman when she shouted once more. “There are two stacks, Tony! Which one?”

“The left! No wait, the right. Ah, damn…”

I sucked in a sharp breath when he suddenly appeared from a door at the far end of the hallway. He was wearing cleats and white shorts with two blue stripes on either side. And that was all. Nothing else. Holy shit! My eyes fastened on his bulging pecs and abs that glistened with sweat, while he wiped his face with his bright blue jersey.

His mom smiled at me when he reached us, then she left us alone. No! I wanted to shout after her, but she was gone and had no idea of my sinking heart.

The moment Tony stood in front of me I couldn’t remember how to make my tongue function or where my voice had gone. Strangely enough, the only thing I could concentrate on was his six-pack and nice belly button. Gosh, I was pathetic! I forced my eyes up to his face, if only for a second.

Tony cast me an irritated glance. Then he pulled the sweaty jersey over his head and shielded his annoyingly perfect body from my gaze. “Get that staring under control, Summers,” he grunted.

Yeah, well, I was working on it.

He grabbed one of the stacks of papers from the top of the chest, put it in a wide folder, and held it out to me, not inviting me in. “These are the main projects. Detailed descriptions are clipped to each sketch.”

I took the folder from him silently, forcing my thoughts to focus on what he’d said instead of on his body. His sweat-dripping hair stuck to his forehead and stood out in sweet angles on top. Along with his heated red cheeks, it made him look much younger and nicer than he actually was.

“I’m sure you’ll figure out what to do,” he snapped, folding his arms over his chest. “If not, you can ask my aunt for help.”

“Yeah, thanks.” It came out flat, my frustration at his rudeness coming through.

“Just try not to spill nail polish on my notes, okay?”

Excuse me? I pulled my brows into a huffy frown. “I don’t do nail polish.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He grabbed the edge of the door and certainly would have closed it in my face in a second.

“Anthony, wait. Please.” I didn’t know what had driven me to say that, but at the same time I squared my shoulders and inhaled a deep breath, which I hoped would give me an extra half-inch of height.

To my surprise, Tony stopped and arched one eyebrow.

Oh God, what to do now? I bit the inside of my cheek, then I mumbled, “Why are you so annoyed with me? Did I do something to offend you?” Yeah, very subtle, Sam. I wanted to slap myself—even if I did want to know the answer.

His other eyebrow came up, too.

Dammit, I was running into a dead end. But I had to say something, so I tried the next best thing that came to my mind. “Listen, I know you think I enjoyed how Chloe made fun of you the other night. But I didn’t.” I shrugged. “I can’t help being her cousin, but I don’t see why that’s such a problem for you. Anyway, you got your revenge when you tore me to pieces in AVE today.”

When he still said nothing, I made a hopeful face. “So…I’d say we’re even?”

A slow, cold smile crept to his lips. “Right.” Then he slammed the door in my face.

Ah…yes. That made a crappy day perfect.

 

And while you’re hopefully enjoying Tony’s & Sam’s story, I’ll write Susan Miller’s book for you. Oh boy, that is fun. And I can’t wait to start with the companion boook to this one, all from the perspective of the guy. ;)

Happy reading!

xoxo

Anna

 

Writing a book 101

I’m wondering how many writers are part of my fan bubble…

How many of you have published a novel already? How many are still struggling to finish their first ever book? And how many of you just came up with the idea of writing a story?

More and more aspiring authors send me messages, asking for some simple and great advice that helps them get big on the market. What can I say? There’s nothing simple about writing. But once you understand that, there’s nothing that can ever stop you from being what you want!

Today I’m going to talk to all of you out there who WANT TO BE A WRITER.

First of all, answer one question for yourself. Do you have something to tell the world?

If the answer is a definite and light-speed-fast YES, you’re onto something here. If you have to lean back and think for more than 30 seconds on the right answer, then you may be a good writer, but you’ll never live the word.

Writing is not a job you do for a living. You write because there’s no other choice for you. It keeps you alive like breathing does. So don’t expect to get rich from it. It’ll merely help you stay sane is all…for a start.

But if you do it, you should do it right. Writing is a profession like any other, and just like you can’t go to a building enterprise and build a house without knowing the basics, there’s a lot to learn about writing too. There are certain rules you have to go by—unless you’re a poet. I think these guys can pull of any shit, not even thinking about guidelines.

However, if you’re wise, you’ll stop reading now, go to Google, and type in writing workshop. It doesn’t matter if that’s online or a physical one somewhere near you. The important thing is that you’ll learn what you need to know there. Or buy a 300-page book that teaches you how to write a good story in great detail.

Okay… You’re still here? I guess that means you’re like me and don’t want to spend twenty bucks on a book that you’re afraid you’ll never finish because it sounds dry and boring, and you think you can learn anything without a teacher. Fine. For those of you who stayed and kept reading, I’ll try to sum up the most important things about writing a book for you.

 

Writing 101 – block 1

THE TIME

First of all, make time to write.

You can’t write if things keep distracting you. Things like the TV, family, work you still have to do…and yes, even Facebook. :P

I have my own writing room in my house, and when I go there, I’m all to myself. My family knows that when my door is closed, it’s closed, and they better not disturb me unless it’s a serious emergency, like the house is burning down, or it’s Thursday night and time to watch The Vampire Diaries  ;-)

I happen to disappear into that room for entire days, because only if I have more than just an hour at a stretch, I can actually be productive. In the end, it doesn’t matter though, how much you write on one day to finish a book. Just keep writing a few hundred words everyday, and you’ll get there all the same.

 

Writing 101 – block 2

THE STORY LINE

Unless you’re a very skilled and talented writer who can make up pretty much anything from pretty much nothing, you will need to come up with the storyline before you start. Okay, I’ve been known to write the first chapter before I start thinking about a possible plot, but only to carve out the characters I want in a book and get to know them a little better. Only when I hear them talking in my mind, I can work them into a good story. But when chapter one is finished, I take a sheet of paper and take notes. I jot down anything relevant about the main characters, then I think about the conflict in a book. And yes, there has to happen SOMETHING. Think about it as a cool movie. You have an opening hook, some getting to know the heroes and revealing what it’s all about, in the middle you start getting toward what’s there to be overcome, and then you need a cool showdown. You can’t write a book with zero conflict. That’s simply not entertaining enough.

 

Writing 101 – block 3

INSPIRATION

Let me tell you one thing: Inspiration is a bitch. Why? Because it very often hits you at moments where you have no chance to take notes, and in 99% you’ll forget a brilliant idea before you’re able to open your ms.

I started carrying a note pad around with me, and I even have one on my nightstand, because if there’s one thing for sure in this world, then that the best ideas come at night. And don’t even try to convince yourself that you’ll remember them the next morning, because you definitely won’t.

 

Writing 101 – block 4

TO STUDY or NOT TO STUDY

This one brings me back to what I said at the beginning. Do you have to study to become a good writer? NO! I’m from Austria with an educational background in financing such as working at a bank. My first language is German, but I’m writing my books in English. All I know about how to write I learned by reading tons of books in my favorite genre. I analyzed the writing style of those authors, took notes in the books, and marked what I liked especially. I figured out how important emotions and dialogue are, took one or two workshops online, and read more books. If you really love to do something, you don’t need to study it to be good at it. But never believe you can do anything without learning. Keep your eyes, ears, and mind open.

 

Writing 101 – block 5

THE OPENING

Hook me with your first page.

The opening is a seriously important part, if not the most, of your entire novel. Why? Because it decides whether your book will be bought in a minute or not. Some people say, the mass reader will grant you three paragraphs to hook them with your book. I say, you have exactly one line. If that line isn’t enough for me to be interested in why or how something turned out the way it has to get to this particular moment, I’ll most probably not even finish reading the first paragraph but shove the book back into the empty space on the shelf and grab the next.

Now, it’s not easy to come up with a line as meaningful and intriguing as that. So what can you do to find just the perfect trigger? At this point, I’d like to quote a friend of mine, who made me understand the importance of this matter quite a while ago. She said, “Try to sum up your entire novel in this very first line.” Duh, how impossible is that?

But then…is it really? In her novel, The Werewolf King, she managed to hook me with a few simple words.

Why, Josef, you make me think the world will end with your calling me here.

Right at this point I absolutely wanted to know A: What happened between her and Josef that calling her was such a great deal? And B: What was going on that the world was at stake?

The tricky thing with this line is that you already have an inkling of what the book will be about, even when you still have absolutely no idea what will come at you. So what do you do? – You read on, because you MUST find out.

One of the greatest hooks I came across was in Larry Brooks Bait and Switch.

All things considered, it was a great night to die.

Heck, what are all things? What led to this person’s acute death? Will he really die? After all, this is only the prologue and you never know about these things. Seriously, for me it can’t get any better than that.

However, if a complete novel in one line is too hard to do, then go for simple. Try to foreshadow the actual chapter, or maybe only the scene.

The previous weeks I’ve been critiquing a lot for another friend of mine. Her dark romances are my all time favorites and she’s excellent with hooks. This is from her yet unpublished novel Darkness Undone.

The sudden hush in the busy little café should have been his first clue that shit was about to fly.

Okay, let’s analyze this. With just a few simple words, she gave a variety of information. We know where the events take place, we get a glimpse at the atmosphere in the café when everyone tenses, and we know that in only a second, something big will happen. These are the three basic points. But there’s one more thing, and personally, to me this is the most important one that made me want to read on. It’s the hero’s voice. Hunter already revealed a very significant trait of this hero: sarcasm, and his relaxed attitude toward the crap going on in his life on a daily basis. I was intrigued by all these aspects in a heartbeat.

Other possibilities to ensnare your readers with the first line are: Shock. A very blatant statement or spicy compliment – this works especially for hot romances. Even humor. Whichever you choose, just put enough info into this line to make your reader guess about what’s coming at him, but don’t reveal too much. Because, like everywhere else, here it is: Less is more.

 

Writing 101 – block 6

SHOW vs. TELL

I started talking about this in the block above, so let’s now focus on it a little more, because it’s the one thing you’ll hear the most in the literary world. A good book runs through your mind like a movie. But what makes a good book? It’s the ability to make things happen and not just tell the reader about them. First, try to avoid the word was as much as you can. It’s passive language and your book has to be as active as possible. Of course there are times—and many of them too—where you just need that word. But very often you can cut it by simple rewording a sentence.

E.g.: I was hungry. —> My stomach rolled.

He was the best player on his basketball team. —> No one ever dunked a basketball from across the place, but Jim aimed, threw and landed two points.

See the difference? In one you always just state a simple fact, but in the other you create a visual. And that’s all you need in a book. The more visual you make your story, the easier it is for your readers to create the pictures in their minds and live – see, smell, hear, feel and breathe – with your characters. You need to make your audience feel with your heroes and not just hear about them like in a history book. I think we all agree that history books are just boring to read, right? And the same will happen to your book, if you fail to create a movie in the readers’ heads.

So when you write, don’t tell me you’re ill. Rather show me how you’re lying in your bed; how you’re wearing two layers of socks to keep yourself from shivering; how you’ve already used up three boxes of tissues and how your nose is red and hurts from the many times you wiped it; how there’s a pack of pills or cough syrup on your nightstand together with the tongue depressor the doc left after his house call this morning.

 

Writing 101 – block 7

DIALOGUE

You need dialogue in every genre. Horror, historical, comedy, books and films alike. It’s the one thing that can either give your novel flair and personality, or make it look dull and dreary. It all depends on the things your characters say—or don’t say. And since this is such an important part of any book, this block is going to be a bit longer than the rest.

Before we get to the practical part where I’ll show and analyze with you some great dialogue lines, I’d like to list three essential characteristics of dialogue.

Dialogue always has to

-advance the plot

-reveal characters

-deliver expositions

It also is active and always has purpose!

Sounds easy, right? Well it is, after some practicing. Many aspiring authors make one basic mistake. They fill in chit-chat. It’s like when Susie asks Harold about the weather. Don’t write conversations that stand still. Each line, however short, should come with a deeper meaning. We’re aiming at emotional impact here, and not at a real-life party chat.

And that’s where we go next: Dialogue should sound natural, but shouldn’t be written as such.

Many of us have special quirks when we speak, like a friend of mine uses the word seriously like she stored it in a pepper caster and just pours as soon as she opens her mouth. Others have an obsession with like. “Three month? Oh no, I mean that’s like forever.” And there are still those, like me, who bring God into the game at any possible occasion: “Oh my God, he’ll come to the party? What am I going to wear? OMG, I need to get a new dress! I can’t go there wearing something he’s already seen. Ohmygod, Ohmygod, Ohmygod!”

Friends, this isn’t working in novels. After the third seriously, your readers will get a freak-attack only when they see a word starting with the letter S. So your aim is to keep it natural but without being too realistic. Get it? So cut ¾ of the adverbs in your dialogue and refer to God or Hell only in special moments, where you really can make a point with drama.

I spoke of three basic characteristics for dialogue earlier. Now, if you’re good at what you do, you’ll be able to dig a bit deeper. With what your characters say, you can reveal or hide their motivations, foreshadow what’s to come, and reflect conflict.

How so?

Motivation: With good dialogue you only give a hint at the characters’ motivation, and so you make the reader curious as to what’s to come. Don’t state things directly. Rather use subtext to keep your audience intrigued. Foreshadowing is a tricky part of dialogue. You do it when you want to evoke anticipation in the reader. Maybe mention what’s at stake so the reader recalls it. And then conflict. Conflict is the soul of each book. You want your readers to hold their breaths with you, whether it’s a romance or a thriller. Add tension by giving an insight into the characters feelings when you let them speak.

Now, that we know the basics of good dialogue, there are a few things you wish to avoid at all costs:

Stiff or stilted dialogue. Read your lines out loud, and if they sound artificial, rewrite. In real life you don’t always stick to accurate grammar or use the most academic terms you can think off—unless you’re Sheldon from the Big Bang Theory, then it’s okay. ;-) However, you’re allowed to cut questions like “Are you feeling all right, my friend?” to “You good, man?”

Don’t let all your characters sound alike. No two individuals speak in completely the same way. Since you’re the only person having this dialogue in real, it’s a trap too easy to fall in. As the author you must go with the different personalities of your characters and shape their language individually. Men for instance speak in shorter sentences than women. They swear more often, and they evade talking about their feelings whenever possible. If one of your characters likes to use a special word or term, for Pete’s sake, then give him exclusive rights on that. Nothing is more bothersome than having the hero and heroine swearing in the same damn way.

Don’t—and I mean it, really, really DO NOT DO IT—just don’t repeat names in dialogue. “Come on, Laura, where is your sportsmanship?” – “I have none, Eddy.” – “Don’t fool me, Laura.”

It should always be clear from the action in your book who of the characters is speaking at the moment and who he is addressing. If you use names, then it should be rare and only for emphasis. Understand? Good.

Well, no Fillers. I know they come in handy in reality, but your dialogue should steer clear of anything like: Nevertheless, well, anyhow, you know, by the way… you name it. If you can eliminate these words from your dialogue it will help you make it leaner, fresher.

 

Okay, done with the theory. Now we get to the cool part. I’m going to show you a few techniques how to pep up your chats as a writer.

I’ll start with my favorite, SARCASM.

Sarcasm is the educated way of insulting someone. You can use it everywhere, as long as it fits your character. If you’re writing about the Queen of England I’d refrain from using it, but if your heroine is a witty little brat like the one in my YA, you’re safe to go.

ANTHONY: Liza and soccer? You might as well try to get an elephant to dance the tango.

CLOEY (the mean girl): The elephant hits home.

LIZA to CHLOE: I tried puking my meals in ninth grade, but then this seems to be more your thing than mine.

Sarcasm is not easy to write for everyone. It’s more like a natural trait and not to learn. Don’t force sarcasm into your dialogue if you don’t feel comfortable with it. The reader will know.

 

COMEBACK ZINGER

It’s a quick come back, a witty response to a question or statement. Where the first line is mostly quite good itself, the second line must top it. Like sarcasm, it’s often aiming at an insult, but more on a friendly basis between buddies.

CAPTAIN HOOK: If I were you, I’d give up!

PETE PAN: If you were me, I’d be ugly.

 

DOUBLE MEANING

Double meaning is like using subtext, often in a comic way.

HANNIBAL LECTER: I do wish we could chat longer, but I’m having an old friend for dinner.

 

OVERSTATEMENT and UNDERSTATEMENT

Here you either exaggerate or downplay the truth in an ironic contrast to the situation. The most popular quote is probably: Houston, we have a problem.

There are so many more ways to spice up your dialogue, but it would crack the frame of this post, so I’ll leave it with that and touch one last topic instead. Action beats and dialogue tags. While you should try hard to work with the former, you’d do well to omit the latter. I mentioned this briefly when I spoke about names in dialogue. If you set your action beats right, you don’t need names or the tag to point out who’s talking to whom. The golden rule for writing is, never to write more than three consecutive sentences of dialogue without breaking it up with an action beat. It will keep the reader focused on the scene, the situation, the placing of the character in a room or toward another, and the mood. When you do your homework on this matter, you can cut mostly every he said, she replied, they answered, I muttered…

 

Writing 101 – block 8

CHARACTERS

To make your characters 3-dimensional rather than 2-dimensional, you have to subtly fill in all bits of information you can. Whenever you introduce a new character, weave in their looks and likes, but don’t sum those things up in an info-dump-paragraph. Don’t tell me they have brown hair and shoe size 10. Rather show me how they run their fingers through their long brown locks that are frizzy from the rain, and that your little sister could sit in the shoe of the guy across from you.

When you start your book, give 6 different facts about the character within the first two pages. The more details you give about a character, the easier you make it for the reader to really see them. And I’m not only speaking about looks here. Anything can be important to shape up a figure, even their favorite brand of tooth paste.

 

Writing 101 – block 9

THIS IS NOT AN SMS

Make sure you know how to write a straight sentence. You don’t use U for You or thru for through. A book is not a text message and you can’t expect your editor to do all the work for you. It’s your book, not hers. Know your grammar and, by all means, use spell check.

However, if you don’t have it in you to really write a book but want your story told anyway, you can always contact a ghost writer.

 

Writing 101 – block 10

POV

Make sure you know who’s talking. When you write a scene in a certain character’s POV, you can only give facts that this person would notice. Let’s say your character is a girl walking home from school. There’s an accident behind her. She’d never say: And then suddenly a red car crashed into a truck at the cross behind me. Because: She doesn’t see what happens, and if she doesn’t know, you can’t know. All she’d say is that she hears the screeching of tires and then the sound of metal being crushed. Only when she turns around, she can give facts like the color of the car or that it clearly was the truck driver’s fault, because he ignored the red lights.

 

Writing 101 – block 11

HEADHOPPING

Headhopping is what we call when you start a scene in one person’s POV but suddenly jump to that of another. I’ve read great books by great authors, such as Sherrilyn Kenyon, who do this, and it’s a major turnoff. You can only pull your readers really deep into a moment, if you stay in the same POV (first or third person doesn’t matter here) throughout the scene. If you want to tell things through the eyes of another person, start a new chapter or use a break within a scene by using a *.

 

Writing 101 – block 12

WRITERS BLOCK

Shit happens. Deal with it.

 

Writing 101 – block 13

WORD COUNT

I’ve been asked how many words you need to write a good book. Seriously, guys, cut that shit from your thoughts altogether.

If you have a story to tell, don’t think about the length. Just let it spill out of your fingers. Write and rewrite until you’re entirely happy. And only then—at the very end—take a look at the word count and by it define which kind of book you created. Here are the standards

under 7k    short story

7k – 17k      novelette

17k – 40k   novella

Over 40k    novel – but depending on the genre, it still might be too short to pitch to publishers and agents.

If you want to shop your book later, you need to find out which agency or which publishing house is interested in which book length. For self-pub it doesn’t matter at all, but if you want to go traditional, here’s another article I found in the web that sums up the expected novel lengths for the market.

http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/guide-to-literary-agents/word-count-for-novels-and-childrens-books-the-definitive-post

 

Writing 101 – block 14

CRITIQUE GROUPS

The most essential thing for me is my critique partner. She’s the one who’s reading everything I write and gives me honest feedback. But it’s not that simple. What you do now is find a critique group online or if you’re lucky even in your hometown. Make sure that the group is dedicated to the genre you’re writing. There’s nothing worse than having a scince fiction writer critiquing your romance novel. Those groups very often have experienced writers who can help you get on with your skills. They take a look at your chapters and point out what’s good, what’s wrong, what’s working, and what’s missing. BUT…be very careful.

Everyone has a different style. It’s called an author’s voice. You need to find someone who likes your voice and can connect with your writing, or he/she will destroy your story with his/her own style. It happened to me at my early beginnings. I just changed my script to all their advices, and in the end it didn’t sound like me anymore, but like someone totally different. This was a hard lesson I had to learn, because in the end, I had to go back and start from zero again, giving my book the soul of my own voice back. After two years of learning in these groups, I settled in with one critique partner only. I love to edit her books, and she loves to read mine. We do a nice job for each other, but we never push our own style upon the other.

Your critique partner cannot be a family member or your best friend. It must be a person who understands the writing craft as a profession. Only then you will get useful critiques that you can work with and that will enhance your manuscript. Don’t ever think just because your sister tells you she loves your book it’s really a good book. Family and friends never ever give thruthful critiques, unless they are writers themselves and understand the importance of honesty, even if it hurts sometimes.

And finally, never take a bad critique personal so don’t get defensive. It’s all just very subjective. Pick out the pieces you like and toss the rest. You don’t have to justify yourself to a critique partner either. They don’t expect it. They just give you their personal and hopefully professional opinion, but to do that they need to know all the basics too.

 

Writing 101 – block 15

EDITING

Never publish anything that hasn’t been edited by a professional.

Find a great editor that you can afford, but don’t take the cheapest, especially when you’re going to self-publish your book. You only want to give the audience a perfectly edited and polished novel. Look at the changes your editor made. If you’re unsure whether you like the changes, talk to your editor about it. Once all the changes are accepted, give the book to somebody else for a final proofread. We call them beta-readers. In the best case you have more than three and they all read the very final version of your novel. There are ALWAYS errors in a book, even after having a professional editor work on it. You just try to keep them at a minimum by having as many people read it as you can find before you publish it. I have eight beta-readers, and there are still errors in my books. No one can find everything.

 

Writing 101 – block 16

BOOK COVER

Be as creative as you can. Find a cover artist who makes covers for the genre you like. Take a look at their gallery. If they don’t have any cover pictures you can look at, they are probably not good enough. There are platforms like Shutterstock or Stocksy where you can download pictures from for your cover. If you want your book to stand out, give it some great colors. Don’t just take one picture but rather combine particular elements of more than one. It’ll make your cover unique. There’s nothing worse than three books in the same genre having the same cover picture.

 

Writing 101 – block 17

PUBLISHING HOUSE vs. INDIE PUB

I tried both. Currently I’m sticking with the latter.

Indie-publishing has a lot of advantages, such as:

You decide about the pace of your writing. When you’re done, you’re done. No deadlines.

You decide when it’s time to publish your book. Amazon let’s you do it within 24 hours. A publisher takes 2 to 3 years.

You get 70% royalties instead of only 8%.

You write the story how you like it.

You give the characters names that you like.

You come up with your own cover.

You decide about the book’s title.

You decide about the book’s price.

You can change the price at any time.

You can make changes to your book at any time.

You find an editor that you feel comfortable with.

However, the traditional way of publishing does have a good side, too. If they’re a good house, they’ll do some promotion for you. Paperbacks of your book will be available in bookstores and not only at Amazon.

Make your own choice here.

 

Writing 101 – block 18

QUERY LETTERS

If you decide to try a publishing house, you can either contact them directly or go the way via a literary agency. In both cases you need to prepare your script to be read and judged. Whatever you do, read the submission guidelines carefully and stick to them. Don’t ever think you’re such an amazing writer that they’ll make an exception for you. They won’t.

Write a capturing query letter. It is short and if it’s any good it reflects the voice of your hero or heroine. Start with an amazing tag line that makes the agent want to read on. Add the blurb. Add any relevant writing experience you have. It’s cool to mention you wrote several articles for the local newspaper. It’s shit to say you have ten finished books at home and your family loves them. Tell the agent exactly what the genre of this book is, the final word count, the POV in which it is written, and whether you self-pubbed it already.

After you wrote your query, be patient. Don’t send it off straight away. Rather let it sit for another week. Then let your critique partner take a look at it and let your editor polish it.

You have one chance to make an impression. Don’t screw it up.

Be prepared for a rejection. Agents are extremely picky, careful, reluctant, slow, and only take on the top 0.001% of the writers who send in their queries. Play With Me was rejected by 47 agents. After I self-published it and sold over 50,000 copies on Amazon, some of the same agents contacted me and offered me a contract. It’s nice to stand on the other end and have the possibility to say: Thanks, but no.

 

Writing 101 – block 19

SELF-PUBLISHING

A while ago, I wrote quite a detailed article about how to self publish a book with Amazon. I’ll just give you the link to it here.

http://annakatmore.com/2014/05/26/how-to-self-publish-a-book-with-amazon/

 

Writing 101 – block 20

HANG IN THERE

Whatever happens, however often your book is being rejected, whatever people think or say about your story once it’s out on the market, and no matter how many tears you’re going to shed until the end – Never. Give. Up.

Tagged: writing

Release date for T IS FOR…

Hey lovely readers and patiently waiting fans!

It’s almost time. Edits and changes for the third book in the Grover Beach Team series are done and the book will be available once again in only two weeks, on September 12, 2014.

The fourth book will follow shortly after. So if you haven’t read T IS FOR… before I took it down for a second edit, you can now preorder it on Amazon.

T is for… (Grover Beach Team, 3)

 

And while you’re hopefully enjoying Tony’s & Sam’s story, I’ll write Susan Miller’s book for you. :)

Happy reading!

xoxo

Anna

 

Read a book

Don’t know what to do today?

Read a book. ;)

You want the books to be a little less fantastic and a little more contemporary?

Or do you want someone not from this world to fall in love with and teach you what it’s like to dream of the stars?

Happy reading!