A.L. Zaun's Blog, page 2

From my bed to the treadmill: One woman's journey to weight loss and fitness

My alarm blared, and I cursed the day I agreed to follow the Madison Stuart School of Kicking Ana's Ass in shape. Ugh, I hate her guts.

"Five more minutes," I mumbled, hoping somehow or other that would be enough to snap me out of my state of complete and utter exhaustion. I pulled the covers up and snuggled with my pillow, sighing in comfort as I dozed off into peaceful slumber.

Suddenly, the comforter flew off my body and the cold air from the vent and ceiling fan caused a terrible shiver to course through my body.  "What the hell?" I cursed in a raspy voice barely able to open my eyes sealed with sleep.

The bed dipped. "Get your lazy ass out of bed," Madison ordered in a menacing voice.

How could I argue with that?  Easily! I was tired.

I'm a single mom who works a full time job, takes care of a my son--by myself, takes care of my dog, my house, and oh yeah, I'm also a writer who has to finish a third book. Excuse me if I'm tired. Sorry to inform you Madison, I am not lazy. I'm tired. I went to bed at 2 am last night because that was when my creative juices were flowing.

As if she could read my mind, she leaned in and in a steady voice said, "I'm giving you thirty seconds before I leave." She pulled back and tucked her hair behind her ears. "I have things to do and places to be."

"More like someone to do," I said, the smart ass in me waking up. "And for the record, I hate you."

"Yes I do." She smiled as her eyes brightened. Lucky bitch. "And yes, you do. For the record, I don't care.  Is this the best you can do? Manipulate me with your approval?" She stepped toward the door. "Won't work. I really don't care if you like me, hate me, or even love me," she stated in an unaffected tone.

A slight chill radiated off of her. I wondered if she was related to Elsa from Frozen. Then again, maybe she was Elsa. That would make a lot of sense.  Let It Go.

As much as I wanted her to slither back under the rock she came out of, I needed her.  This was me the other day. Well, not literally me but pretty close if someone would've been video taping me.

Since I refuse to buy the next size up, I have to do this. Madison is going to whip my ass in shape.  Follow my journey as I go from fat to fit.... That is if Madison doesn't kill me first.

~Ana



Post by Marina Boshoff.

Dreamer, writer and hopeless romantic: One Picture

My book signing cherry was popped yesterday.  It was a sweet and gentle lovemaking.  I met some fantastic readers, bloggers, and other authors.



I was supposed to take a lot of pictures.  But I didn't. 

I mean, I was in a lot of pictures.  That was both overwhelming and humbling.  I met local readers, and I was able to talk to them about the Miami flavor in The Do Over Series.  We laughed at some things that might get lost on others like freezing when it's 68 degrees or Rick setting the heater to 85 degrees to defrost. 

On a side note, when I arrived at the Bahia Mar, I froze my butt off. In fact, as I was waiting for the bell hop, I was shivering. I think it might have been 70 degrees but it felt like -10.  (Just go with me on that one)
But alas, I did take one picture.  And yes, there's a little story behind this one. 

The sky was a beautiful crisp blue and the palms swayed with the wind, dancing a sensual Rumba.  But my heart was doing more of a Merengue or Salsa with it's fast beat. This was it. My first signing as an author.  
Before I could make it into the building, E.K. Blair pulled up in her SUV. Relief. I know her. Never discount the power of the pack.  There's an inherent feeling of safety in numbers.  And when I saw Daisy and Ciara, the adrenalin surging through my body at rocket speed slowed down, and I was able to function and not make a total fool of myself in an awkward, geeky, nerdy kind of way.  At least I hope I didn't. The jury is still out on that.
Ah, then Sandi showed up with my badge. I felt like a superhero.  No, I didn't have any magical powers that allowed shape shifting--as in making me a size 4 and making my muffin top vanish. No it was a badge of courage and accomplishment. 
DeNiro said it best. Yeah, he gets me.


Fast forward to the story behind the ONE PICTURE I did take.

So, after lunch, I stretched  and felt like a cow for eating too much. My only consolation was that I didn't have any cheesecake. That alone should have erased the calories I did consume. 
Pulling out my phone, I saw that Alison Bailey posted on Facebook that there was this hottie here at the signing and that I HAD to go find him. 
Huh?  What was she talking about?  There was no hot guy here. That little bit of information would have spread like a wild fire through the Everglades during the dry season.

 Alison, if you don't know already, is a little pushy and demanding. When did she think she became the boss of me?  I rolled my eyes. 
I spotted Daisy, making her way back to SL Jenning's table with Ciara along her side. Sidling up to them, I said, "Alison is smoking crack. She told me there was some hottie here." 
Daisy giggled and had the look of someone getting her hand caught in the cookie jar. "Yes, there is." She pulled out her phone and showed me his picture. 

Ciara added something about his tattoos. While I'm not an ink girl, I don't know, I was intrigued.  
"What is wrong with you?" I asked shocked. "I thought we were friends."  Shaking my head, I concluded, "You're both officially fired." 
To make matters worse, they pointed him out, getting into the elevator. My chance went poof, up in elevator fumes. Oh well. I let Alison and the girls know that I missed my opportunity to see the hottie up close and personal. 
The signing continued. I met some more readers and chatted with some bloggers. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I'm not a quitter. This guy couldn't be gone, gone. He had to be here. So, I snuck to the other room and saw him with a crowd of people around him. Were they all for him?
I turned around and walked out, feeling like a silly school girl who was checking out the hot guy. As I planned my cool exit, I ran into an author friend, who will remain nameless. "Did you see, all those crazy women hanging on that guy? Ugh, he's okay, I guess but not my type."  I thought..."Yeah, what she said. Whatever. I'm so over the hottie, with the abs and great body." (Did I convince you? Nah. I don't even believe that)

I went back to my table but the wheels in my head kept spinning. I couldn't give up. Since I'm a woman of do-overs and believe in redemption, I gave Daisy a second chance to make it up to me. She'd break the ice. And that she did. We walked through the crowd and right up to Assad.

He was charming and offered light banter...just the right amount to make me feel like not so much like a silly school girl but like a woman. Of course, the smooth lines I could have exchanged came after when I was sitting at my table, in the other room, feeling like a little girl with a crush.
The thoughts going through my head at that moment: "Can I touch him?"

He mentioned being on the cover of my next book. I looked at him and then at Daisy. "I think he might make a good Rick."  
Without skipping a beat, he added, "Oh Enrique."
Hmm, this might work. "Yes, his name actually is Enrique."



I am a dreamer, writer and hopeless romantic. AND a firm believer in happily ever afters.
~Ana

Moments when you fall in love even more...with fictional characters

My friends and family joke about, what they call, my obsession with fictional characters. I simply roll my eyes at their lack of appreciation for my admiration of these idealized personas.

The one highest on my radar is Christian Grey in the upcoming film, Fifty Shades of Grey.  I read the books almost two years ago and was immediately sucked into the story as were millions, maybe billions at this point.  Now with the movie less than a  year away, I've turned my appreciative eye on Jamie Dornan who will be bringing Christian to life on the silver screen.

This YouTube of Jamie just has me falling in love just a little bit more.




~Ana

Dreamer, Writer, and Hopeless Romantic: I'm my own version of Carrie Bradshaw or not

Every night before I go to bed, the theme of Sex in the City plays in my head--for real.






My life doesn't resemble Carrie Bradshaw’s at all. Okay so I'm single, and Carrie was single. 

 But we look nothing alike. 



 Well, maybe a teeny, tiny, bit, if I was maybe fifty pounds lighter and had blue eyes. 
But...I don’t live in New York City in an awesome apartment. I live in Miami in a house. It's a nice house, so I'm not complaining. Just stating the obvious.
 I also don’t have her killer shoes, although I do have a nice collection of shoes in my closet. 




I don’t have three awesome friends who offer me advice, support, and encouragement when I need it, ask for it, or when they just want to dish it out. 
No, I’m not the uni bomber or antisocial. I just don’t have THOSE friends. 



 Nor do I have Carrie’s men. 
Nope, no Mr. Big with me. (They make such a cute couple, don't they?)


 Nor have I had an Aiden. And boy was Aiden just amazing, perfect, and so swoony. 

I loved Aiden. He might not have been perfect for Carrie, but he certainly was perfect for me.
I think it's time Ana got her groove back.







Wait!
And then there was Berger… 









Maybe I bonded with Carrie over horrible ways of getting “dumped”. 
Berger used a post-it note. A post-it. Me…I had a text message. Text Message. At least have the decency... 
Well, that’s a post for another time. 


Now that we've established that I’m nothing like Carrie Bradshaw. Well maybe just maybe in a very skinny future or past, I might have possibly looked a teeny tiny bit like her from a very far distance...or not.
No one can argue that we both share crappy break up stories. Other than that, we’re nothing alike. 

So back to what I was saying. I can get so easily distracted. Darn these tangents.

Every night before I go to bed, I hear the theme of Sex in The City play in my head (Doesn't everyone?)


.  

The images of the day run through my mind, and I check-off all the major events.  Got Alberto to school late...checkForgot to brush my hair...checkPlot chapter while driving...checkWent to the office...checkCaught up with all my friends on FaceBook...checkVowed to jump on the treadmill...checkActually exercised...work in progressMade sure to feed Samson and let him out...checkSpend some time writing and reading....checkBlessed to be a mom...check
Then, I vow to make tomorrow better, and swear to myself that we won't be late again.
I may not be Carrie Bradshaw, but I'm me. 
I’m a dreamer, a writer, and a hopeless romantic that believes in her happily ever after. Hmm, maybe Carrie and I have more in common than I thought.

~Ana

Valentine's Day: Rick and Madison Style

An Glimpse of Valentine's Day: Rick and Madison Style
**Please note that this has not been edited**


I scanned Martini Bar once more. We were at capacity with reservations throughout the night. Bruce had been right. I’d been selling my kitchen staff short. Meanwhile, he was leaning against the counter with what appeared to be his own conquest for the evening. 
The sounds of the patrons laughing and enjoying their meals caused a swell of emotions to overtake me. I’d never been one to gush at the idea of Valentine’s Day, but I had to admit watching couples in love, lust, or temporarily insane warmed my heart. I stood in the midst of a perfect balance of love, commercialism, and success. A smile spread across my face, and I nodded in complete satisfaction. 
I pulled out my phone as I walked back toward my office. Pushing open the door with my hip, I began scanning through my messages. My stomach dropped and a hallow feeling replaced the elation I’d felt just moments ago. I hadn’t received a text from Rick in hours—very un-Rick-like.  
Sitting down at my desk, I shook off the disappointment. I refused to allow myself to buy into the idea of this god-forsaken day. I’d never cared about it before. I wasn’t about to allow a number on a calendar to dictate my mood.  
Anyhow, I was reading too much into his perceived absence. I’d been with him this morning. I’d see him tonight. We’d been sleeping together every night for the past several weeks. We’d both been very busy lately. I had to work tonight. I continued to check off the mental list of reasons why it made perfect sense. I sighed. I was becoming one of those insecure women who measured her relationship based on every single solitary move the man made. Stop being ridiculous. We’re both in love. We don’t need a day on the calendar to remind us of that. 
Shaking my head, I reached into my drawer and pulled out a box from my desk. Just as quickly as my sour mood came, it went away as I ran my fingers along the edges of the frame—our first official selfie as a couple. I chuckled softly reminiscing about New York with Rick. Still, I couldn’t explain the dull feeling in my gut. I wasn’t a hearts and flowers kind of girl, but he knew better. I’d told him I wanted to be wooed. I wanted him to go the extra mile. I was worth it.  
Well, Mr. Marin, I think you’re getting a little too complacent if you think blowing me off on Valentine’s Day is going to fly! It’s our goddamn first Valentines. What an asshole. 
A light tap at the door startled me out of my estrogen-laced coma. A surge of anticipation filled me, and I bit down on my lip to hold back the excitement. Rick. “Come in,” I called out, quickly putting the box away.  

“Hey,” Bruce said, popping his head in the door. I batted my eyes quickly to hold back the rush of tears that were forming. I had to stop this pathetic behavior immediately. I wasn’t like this, and I certainly didn’t want to become one of those women. “You have out done yourself.” He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “The place is buzzing, the customers are happy, and the chi-ching of the register is music to our ears.” He sat down—without an invitation, I might add—proud of our accomplishment. Once again, I was reminded of exactly who I was—Madison Stuart, and I was a badass, proving to the industry that I was a force to be reckoned with. 
I sat back in my chair. “Put on your seatbelt.” I raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”  
He placed his hands on his legs and leaned forward. Glancing around the room, he asked, “So where’s your worse-half? I was sure he’d be annoying the ever living shit out of me tonight.” 
At that very moment, I wasn’t sure who I hated more, Rick or Bruce. But I wasn’t about to let either one of them see me affected by their insensitivity.  
Tucking my hair behind my ear, I smiled curtly and began shuffling papers on my desk. “Tonight’s very busy. I need to focus on work.” I looked up at him. “We’re going to Naples tomorrow for the day.” That was the truth. I didn’t add, though, that Rick had wanted it to be for the weekend, but I had too much going on with Donovan’s to be that disconnected. I suddenly felt a pang of regret. Why did I have to be so damn difficult? 
Bruce cleared his throat. I wondered if I gave something away with my expression. “Don’t get me wrong. I think the guy’s an asshole. I don’t have a problem with him missing in action.”  
I tilted my head and gave him one of my looks, letting him know he was off base. A fierce sense of protectiveness came over me. “The two of you need to put your differences aside.” I reached for the box in my drawer and placed it on my desk. “What do you think?” I showed him the picture as I admired it. “I love him.” I looked up at Bruce, whose eyes had softened.  
“I’m not used to seeing you act like a girl.” He smirked. “Nice picture. I’m sure Douchebag will love it.” “Thanks,” I said sarcastically. I placed the framed picture back in the box. “This is the ruse.” Excitedly, I pulled out his real gift and held it out to Bruce. “Here’s his real present.” 
Bruce’s eyes widened as he took the World War II Purple Heart in his hand. He appraised it and smiled. “He’s been injured in battle?” 
“Being with me isn’t easy.” I winked and took it back. “He loves this stuff. I bought it at auction last week.” I tucked it away in its case. I’d taken so much care to get him something absolutely perfect. After all, it was our first Valentine’s Day.  
I couldn’t help feeling a bit let down that he hadn’t done anything special for me. Sure we were going away tomorrow, but what about today? He could’ve sent me flowers. He always did that. He could’ve at least obsessively called me during the day. No, on the one day he was expected to be over the top, he wasn’t.  
“He’s a lucky guy, but if anything changes, I can break his legs for you. And I’ll do it with a smile on my face.” Bruce stood up and tilted his head to the door. “You coming back out on the floor?” I pushed back from my desk. “Of course. We have a restaurant to run.”  
Bruce held the door for me as I stepped into the narrow corridor leading to the main area. The sounds and aroma coming from the kitchen refocused me and gave me the jolt I needed. With my head held high, I stepped into my element. I was, in fact, the queen. My shoulders slumped slightly, though. I dearly missed my king. 
And then as if in a movie, I saw him, standing by the door. He held a single red rose. I weaved through the patrons, not taking my eyes off of him. The noise died down, and we were the only two people in the world. I’d graduated to heights of the overly romantic woman who longed for the fantasy of her knight in shining armor. And reluctantly, I admitted to myself, I liked it. 
“What are you doing here?” I greeted him as he wrapped one arm around me and pulled me into him. Normally, I would keep the public displays of affection at a minimum at work, but today was the exception. 
He handed me the rose. “I’m an asshole who was working too hard today when I should’ve been spoiling you instead.” He lowered his mouth to mine and softly kissed me. The gentle feel of his lips over mine sent a tingle down my spine. I closed my eyes and relished his warm embrace. “Let me make it up to you tomorrow.” He pulled back and tucked my hair behind my ears. Leaning in, he placed a kiss on my forehead. “I love you, babe. I’m such a fuck-up. This week flew by. Before I knew it, here we are on Valentine’s Day, and well…”
This wasn’t the time or place to be having this discussion. “Hey,” I said coyly. “How about, I leave early tonight and let you start making it up to me tonight?” 
“You can’t get enough of me.” His lips curled into a dimpled smile.  
I smacked his chest and held back my own smile. “You’re an idiot.” 
“In other words, I’m right.” He placed another kiss on my lips. “Listen.” He laid his hands on my shoulders. “You should leave early. That way, you’ll be rested for tomorrow.”  
My body went rigid. “I’ll see you later, then?” I asked, trying not to jump to conclusions. I want to ram this rose up his ass right now. 
He kissed my cheek. “Babe, I’m beat. I’ll pick you up early.” He stepped back. “I promise, I’ll make this up to you.” He smiled and blew me a kiss as he walked out the door.  
I wanted to kill him. No, death would be too kind. He needed to suffer. 
I stood paralyzed, staring at the door. Bruce placed his arm around my shoulder. “The offer to break his legs still stands.” 
I buried my emotions deep inside and gave him an icy glare. “That’s too merciful.”  
Bruce laughed. “Sign off on these invoices and then head home. I’m sure loveless boy will turn that frown upside down tomorrow.”  
I grabbed the papers and headed to my office to collect my things. I plopped down at my desk and pulled out my pen. Everything was standard and in order, so I signed off on the bills. My Pandora bracelet slid down my wrist, and I sighed. I loved him, and I knew that aside from him being the world’s greatest asshole, he loved me too. 
I grabbed Rick’s gifts and placed them in my tote, wishing I’d gotten him something I could return. I stared at my rose. One? Seriously? One? God, I hated that I was acting like a silly woman. Valentine’s Day sucks!  
I wasn’t a victim, and I refused to feel sorry for myself. I’m Madison Stuart. I wanted to spend this evening with Rick, and nothing was going to stop me.  
I waved to Bruce as I walked out the door. I glanced back once more to see my well-oiled machine. I smiled, feeling empowered. If I’d lived my life waiting for permission, I wouldn’t have accomplished half of what I’d done. Rick Marin needed to be schooled in the art of treating a woman. 
Once I reached my car, I pulled out my phone and called him. It didn’t ring more than twice before he picked up. “I want to see you tonight,” I said, without waiting for an introduction. 
"Manner, mi amor. Hello. How are you?" He chuckled. “But far be it for me to deny you my presence.” He paused for a moment. I was expecting another cheesy line from him. “You can’t stay away from me, can you?” And without fail, he delivered it. “Just get your stuff for tomorrow and come over.” 
I stared at my phone. Was he distracted?   
“Marin,” I said as a wave of emotion washed over me. “It shouldn’t bother me, but it does. I…” The words were difficult to form. Relationship, stupid days on calendars, and expectations were new to me. I didn’t want them and craved them all the same. 
He didn’t let me finish. “I love you, Madison. You have no fucking idea how much.”  
His words were filled with emotion and sincerity. I felt it in the marrow of my bones. That was all that should matter, and in a lot of way, in the ones that counted, it did. How could I allow a day on a calendar to render me a wallowing, brainless sap?  
I fought back the impending tears as I drove home, realizing that the man on the phone truly did love me. It wasn’t always pretty, but it was real and it was ours. He showed me every single day. 
“I love you, Marin.” I blew out a deep breath, letting go of some bitterness, no thanks to this botched up commercialized day. “I’ll see you in a bit.” 
I pressed the red END button as I pulled into my building. After I parked in my space, I grabbed my purse and tote and entered through the side door.  
“Ms. Stuart,” Walter greeted me. “How are you this evening?” He got up and came over to me, taking the tote from my hand.  
“I’m fine, thank you.” I was suddenly exhausted. With the insanity of the evening, I had forgotten to have dinner. “How are you?” 
“I can’t complain.” He pressed the call button for the elevator and handed me my bag when the door opened. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” Walter smiled. “Mr. Marin is a very lucky man.”  
“Yes, he is,” I responded as the elevator closed.  
I stretched my neck from side to side before fumbling for the key to my apartment when I reached my floor. It really had been a long week. If I didn’t want to be with Rick so badly, I’d crawl into bed and most likely fall asleep immediately.  
I jiggled the lock and opened the door. The sound of soft music welcomed me, and my breath caught in my throat. A warm flush touch my cheeks and a smile spread on my face when my eyes landed on the bouquet of red roses on my side table in the foyer. I pulled out the card that was written in his chicken scratch. Never underestimate my love for you. Be my Valentine. Forever yours, R 
I laid down my purse and tote. A tremor of excitement hit me. My heart raced. Everything started to make sense. I felt like a world class bitch. 
“Marin?” I called out softly as I entered into my apartment, still holding the card, and trying to remember to breathe. 
When I turned the corner, the room opened up. Lit candles adorned the tables and pink and red rose petals were sprinkled throughout. I set my hands on the back of the dining chair, taking it all in. The table was set for two. A bottle of chilled champagne. A bowl of chocolate covered strawberries. A wrapped box.  “Someone has a lot of explaining to do.” I said. “Breaking and entering?” I couldn’t contain the smile. God, I hate his guts. 
"A crime of passion." He walked out of the bedroom, impeccably dressed, wearing a devious smile. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” He wrapped his arms around me and dragged me into his body. He ran his lips over mine. “Are you surprised?”  
I smiled against his mouth. "I wanted you to die a slow death for blowing me off today." I tightened my hold on him and swayed in his arms. "But this is a start in the right direction." 
"A slow death, huh?" His tongue caressed my lower lip, and my mouth opened in response. "I think you're getting soft. I would have expected something more epic." The kiss was soft, intimate, and soul touching. His hands cradled my head as his fingers twined around my hair. Our tongues danced urgently, changing the intensity of our connection.  
"I couldn't stop thinking about you all day," I confessed breathlessly.  
He pulled back and held my face in his hands. He gazed at me with the intensity of a man determined. I was taken aback by it. My heart drummed rapidly.  
"You're all I ever think about." He sucked in his lower lip while his eyes searched my face. "Be my Valentine." He leaned his forehead against mine. "Everyday." 
~A.L. Zaun

Writer's Corner: Self Publishing Is Not The Minor Leagues

I've recently published my second novel, It's Not Over.  Self-publishing made that possible for me.  If I'm honest, I didn't start writing The Do Over with the intention of publishing it. I'd been part of a writing contest in a reading group.  The participants formed a small group where we encouraged one another to complete the project we had begun.  Along the way, the dream was born. The fact that so many have read it and loved it, humbles me.

Having published has opened up a new world for me. I've had the wonderful opportunity to interact with authors, bloggers, and readers.  And within this world, I get asked questions all the time about publishing.

I have another brilliant idea.  I'm going to share in the "Writer's Corner" information, insights, wisdom, mistakes, smart choices, and the truth about self-publishing, marketing, and more.

I've attached an awesome article.  Read it and let me know what you think.


Self Publishing Isn't The Minor League



~Ana

I have an idea...

I've been thinking.  That's not accurate. While I was walking down the hallway to pick something up from my dad, I had a brilliant idea. I love it when I have those Einstein moments.

Less than two (2) weeks ago, I pressed publish on my second novel, It's Not Over. I'm pretty confident that you've already read it (and The Do Over) and are beside yourself with anticipation for the third installment, Let It Go.

The next step for you is to write a review on Amazon and then on Goodreads -- you can even copy and paste the same one, I won't mind.  After you do that, because you're brimming with OMGness, you must go and tell your friends.  Right? Yes!  I completely understand. I get that way about awesome books, too.



Buy Me The Do Over                              Buy Me It's Not Over


So what was that brilliant idea that I had?  One thing that I've been hearing is that readers would like more Dani and Liam and what about Chris and Macy. And the truth is...at this moment, I'm not really sure. But, I did think of something. And I'd like to write some deleted scenes. Give you glimpses as to what's going on in their lives.  My goal is to write a post once a week giving you a little bit of your beloved characters.  I hope you'll enjoy it.  
Keep in mind, that unless I specifically post a teaser from Let It Go, the stories I share will not impact or influence Let It Go.  
What do you think?
~Ana

It's Not Over...Is LIVE

It's Not Over is finally here.  You met Rick Marin and Madison Stuart in The Do Over.  If you're like most people, you didn't like Rick very much. In fact, maybe you even hated him. But, you can't deny that as the story progressed, there was something about him that made you hate the fact that your resolve was waning and you might actually not despise him so much.

So what happened after he found out she was gone?  Read It's Not Over and find out.



Available 
Amazon
Barnes and Noble

2 More Days -- Unlikely couple

In less than 2 Days, It's Not Over will be live.  I'm excited and nervous (just keeping it real).  The journey through Rick and Madison's story wasn't an easy one, even though you'd think it would be. These two characters are complicated. They're stubborn, opinionated, and come with their set of baggage.  
One thing you'll learn early on is that no one thinks that these two can make it as a couple.  Maybe their best bet is to remain friends or better yet, go their separate ways.
Read It's Not Over and draw your own conclusion.  Are they a train wreck or will you root for them?


Make sure to add it to your TBR at Goodreads:  It's Not Over

3 More Days

I'm getting excited.....