Ginger Scott's Blog - Posts Tagged "na"
Second Teaser - First Two Pages of 'Going Long' - Sequel to 'Waiting on the Sidelines'
I can't believe the time is almost here. I'm tremendously proud of 'Waiting on the Sidelines,' and I'm so touched that so many of you have bonded with Reed and Nolan's story.
Writing 'Going Long' was like coming home...I missed these characters, and I wanted to spend more time with them. I'm excited to share their next chapter with you. In fact, that's exactly what I'm doing today: Below you'll find the first 2 pages of 'Going Long.' The story is told from both Reed and Nolan's points of view. It just so happens that both of my teasers are from Reed's perspective -- I've heard from many readers who wanted to get inside "that boy's head," so I figured there wouldn't be any complaints:-)
SPOILER: Fair warning -- if you haven't read the first book yet, you may want to wait before reading this teaser. It doesn't give everything away, but it might be more than some care to know or read. I hope you enjoy! And...I promise the next thing you see, come October, will be the entire book available.
Thank you all for reading! You are precious to me.
--------
Reed:
The first time I thought about marrying Nolan Lennox, she had just saved my father’s life. The thought was fleeting, and it scared the hell out of me. I was only 17.
Nolan and my dad were the only two people to have ever seen me cry. I mean snot-dripping-from-your-nose, gasping-for-breath, body-shaking cry. And I was a child when I cried in front of my dad—not so much a child when I let it all out in Nolan’s arms while my dad lay under some surgeon’s knife, his heart cut open and failing.
It was something about the way Nolan knew what to do, the way she took care of my dad when he had a heart attack—the way she took care of me. The moments were brief, bit-flashes of time, but they also filled my mind with visions of forever. I recognized it right away, but chose to ignore it for a while. It happened again when I thought some asshole had raped her, and all I wanted to do was go to jail for having beat the shit out of him. And it happened the first time I kissed her, I mean really kissed her.
I stopped ignoring it, though, when I drove through the desert from Tucson to her dorm room at ASU, 110 miles away. The sun was setting, and I had just read her name in the newspaper story about the accident that broke us apart our senior year in high school—her words so sad, full of regret and guilt. I let her go because I didn’t think I was good for her, didn’t want her to give up her dreams for mine. I didn’t want to carry that weight on my shoulders, I guess. But she blamed herself anyway. And I just had to fix it, had to hold her. And when it hit me that I never wanted to stop holding her, I hit the gas hard and made it to her building just as dusk was setting in.
The guy working the front desk of her building recognized me and let me in, but not before ribbing me about playing for the wrong school and letting me know that ASU’s line was going to flatten my ass more than a few times. I let him heckle me for a bit, before he reached for my hand and shook it—almost like he was star struck, and I was his bro. I was going to have to get used to this kind of attention.
He gave me Nolan’s room number, and I charged up the steps three stairs at a time. When I got to her door, I pounded on it manically. The hallways were quiet, her neighbors gone, and most of the doors were closed and dark underneath. A short, mousy girl opened a door down the hall, and I walked over slowly, smiling so she wouldn’t freak out. She told me everyone had gone to some dance on campus. I just thanked her and told her I’d wait so she didn’t wonder why I was hanging out in the hall.
I must have dozed off after a few hours, my head buried in the music pumping in my ears, my hat shielding my eyes from the florescent lights of her hallway. I jumped when she kicked my feet apart, but when I saw her face, I remembered why I’d come all this way.
Being in her room felt so right, everything so familiar, even though it wasn’t a place I’d ever been. It was full of her. When I saw the pictures of her and me on her wall, my pulse sped up a bit. And when I saw that damn hat I’d given her—my lame attempt to let her know I still loved her—I knew I still had a shot.
I’ve never been more careful choosing my words than I was for that brief conversation I had with Nolan that night. And I probably should have led with begging for forgiveness from the start, but instead I wanted to make sure she knew that everything was because of me, not her. I wanted the blame, all of it.
And with that one small word from her breath, yes, I knew I was done. The sensation of her lips on mine was an addiction. The miles on my Jeep read 93,728, and all but 3,000 of those miles were treaded by my many drives from Tucson up to Phoenix, just to see the girl who rules my world. I knew she was worried when I first came to surprise her at her dorm room two years ago and begged her to give me one more chance. But I made a promise to her then, and I had every intention of keeping it.
I wanted her to know that she could count on me being there to greet her as soon as her classes were done on Thursday afternoons. I didn’t give a shit that it meant I had to turn around and drive the same miles back to campus for light practices on Fridays and games on Saturdays—sometimes making several trips each week just to see her. And when games were done, I spent my nights with her, holding her close, and letting her call all the shots.
My freshman year, I took a lot of shit from the guys on the football team, who all expected me to head to the bars with them every night and rule the parties on fraternity row. But I wouldn’t go unless Nolan was with me. Sometimes she would, and I spent most of those nights making sure strangers didn’t try to ply her with liquor or hit on her.
She finally convinced me to go alone once, about halfway through our freshman season. She was stuck at ASU, working late on a midterm psychology paper, and couldn’t make it for our game against Stanford. We were serious underdogs, but managed to pull out a win, and there was no getting around celebrating. The entire UofA campus was teeming with energy, and it was the first time in months I let myself get a little loaded. I drunk-dialed her that night—several times, so I was told. I was so sure I said something stupid, but she assured me I was nothing but sweet and romantic. I’m pretty sure I embarrassed myself, but she didn’t tease.
I was careful not to drink too much now. That was another vow I made when I left home for college and signed to play for the Wildcats. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a college guy, and I can chug with the best of them. But I try not to let it get stupid, and usually Noles is there to keep me in line or tell me when it’s time to go home.
I wasn’t going to be my brother; I wouldn’t be the asshole. Being the asshole was the easy way out. And I was fine with things not being easy. Jason was quickly becoming a business big-shot with our father’s company. He was good at business, sales and working a room full of important people into doing exactly what he wanted. People always wanted Jason to like them, even as adults. It stunned me that they couldn’t see through his bullshit, but I guess, deep down, most of us want to be liked by the in crowd, even if the guy at the head of the table was a massive dick.
Now that Nolan and I were juniors, it was harder to sync our schedules. Nolan’s schedule was pretty full. She was taking 21 hours to make sure she could graduate in four years with her specialty. And I was seriously considering entering the draft after this season. Our Rose Bowl win, and number four finish last year, put me in a pretty good position to be a top pick, and we were already ranked pretty high heading into this season. I didn’t want to lose my chance to do this for a living. I loved the game, almost as much as I loved Nolan. But that’s what made it all so damned hard. I knew I could end up on the other end of the country, and the thought of spending a year away from her tore up my insides.
We talked about it a few times, but Nolan always shut down. She was a planner, and when I brought up the possibility of her transferring, or doing her student teaching somewhere else, she just nodded and said she’d think about it. But it was the kind of nod that I knew meant she really wouldn’t, and was instead hoping the possibility would just go away.
I didn’t have to make my decision yet. But come December, I needed to have a pretty good idea of where I was headed. I had four months to work on her, but the whole thing was just making my stomach sick. And the fucking ring in my pocket was just making my stress shoot through the roof.
I wasn’t going to ask her today. I probably wouldn’t ask her this year. But I knew I’d ask her, and I just wanted to be ready. I had most of the day off and stopped by the house to talk to dad on my way up to see Nolan. He loved her like a daughter already, and when I brought up the idea of one day making her a permanent part of the family, he hugged me so hard that my feet left the ground. I didn’t expect him to give me Grandma’s ring; I just wanted his help picking something out. So when he disappeared upstairs, and came back down with the antique box, I knew I was making the right decision.
I shoved the stress back down in my body and reminded myself to stay in control the second I saw my girl round the corner of her building—just like she did every Thursday afternoon. She was looking for me, her heavy bag slumping down her shoulder and her hair knotted up on top of her head. Damn she was beautiful. And I was so lucky.
Writing 'Going Long' was like coming home...I missed these characters, and I wanted to spend more time with them. I'm excited to share their next chapter with you. In fact, that's exactly what I'm doing today: Below you'll find the first 2 pages of 'Going Long.' The story is told from both Reed and Nolan's points of view. It just so happens that both of my teasers are from Reed's perspective -- I've heard from many readers who wanted to get inside "that boy's head," so I figured there wouldn't be any complaints:-)
SPOILER: Fair warning -- if you haven't read the first book yet, you may want to wait before reading this teaser. It doesn't give everything away, but it might be more than some care to know or read. I hope you enjoy! And...I promise the next thing you see, come October, will be the entire book available.
Thank you all for reading! You are precious to me.
--------
Reed:
The first time I thought about marrying Nolan Lennox, she had just saved my father’s life. The thought was fleeting, and it scared the hell out of me. I was only 17.
Nolan and my dad were the only two people to have ever seen me cry. I mean snot-dripping-from-your-nose, gasping-for-breath, body-shaking cry. And I was a child when I cried in front of my dad—not so much a child when I let it all out in Nolan’s arms while my dad lay under some surgeon’s knife, his heart cut open and failing.
It was something about the way Nolan knew what to do, the way she took care of my dad when he had a heart attack—the way she took care of me. The moments were brief, bit-flashes of time, but they also filled my mind with visions of forever. I recognized it right away, but chose to ignore it for a while. It happened again when I thought some asshole had raped her, and all I wanted to do was go to jail for having beat the shit out of him. And it happened the first time I kissed her, I mean really kissed her.
I stopped ignoring it, though, when I drove through the desert from Tucson to her dorm room at ASU, 110 miles away. The sun was setting, and I had just read her name in the newspaper story about the accident that broke us apart our senior year in high school—her words so sad, full of regret and guilt. I let her go because I didn’t think I was good for her, didn’t want her to give up her dreams for mine. I didn’t want to carry that weight on my shoulders, I guess. But she blamed herself anyway. And I just had to fix it, had to hold her. And when it hit me that I never wanted to stop holding her, I hit the gas hard and made it to her building just as dusk was setting in.
The guy working the front desk of her building recognized me and let me in, but not before ribbing me about playing for the wrong school and letting me know that ASU’s line was going to flatten my ass more than a few times. I let him heckle me for a bit, before he reached for my hand and shook it—almost like he was star struck, and I was his bro. I was going to have to get used to this kind of attention.
He gave me Nolan’s room number, and I charged up the steps three stairs at a time. When I got to her door, I pounded on it manically. The hallways were quiet, her neighbors gone, and most of the doors were closed and dark underneath. A short, mousy girl opened a door down the hall, and I walked over slowly, smiling so she wouldn’t freak out. She told me everyone had gone to some dance on campus. I just thanked her and told her I’d wait so she didn’t wonder why I was hanging out in the hall.
I must have dozed off after a few hours, my head buried in the music pumping in my ears, my hat shielding my eyes from the florescent lights of her hallway. I jumped when she kicked my feet apart, but when I saw her face, I remembered why I’d come all this way.
Being in her room felt so right, everything so familiar, even though it wasn’t a place I’d ever been. It was full of her. When I saw the pictures of her and me on her wall, my pulse sped up a bit. And when I saw that damn hat I’d given her—my lame attempt to let her know I still loved her—I knew I still had a shot.
I’ve never been more careful choosing my words than I was for that brief conversation I had with Nolan that night. And I probably should have led with begging for forgiveness from the start, but instead I wanted to make sure she knew that everything was because of me, not her. I wanted the blame, all of it.
And with that one small word from her breath, yes, I knew I was done. The sensation of her lips on mine was an addiction. The miles on my Jeep read 93,728, and all but 3,000 of those miles were treaded by my many drives from Tucson up to Phoenix, just to see the girl who rules my world. I knew she was worried when I first came to surprise her at her dorm room two years ago and begged her to give me one more chance. But I made a promise to her then, and I had every intention of keeping it.
I wanted her to know that she could count on me being there to greet her as soon as her classes were done on Thursday afternoons. I didn’t give a shit that it meant I had to turn around and drive the same miles back to campus for light practices on Fridays and games on Saturdays—sometimes making several trips each week just to see her. And when games were done, I spent my nights with her, holding her close, and letting her call all the shots.
My freshman year, I took a lot of shit from the guys on the football team, who all expected me to head to the bars with them every night and rule the parties on fraternity row. But I wouldn’t go unless Nolan was with me. Sometimes she would, and I spent most of those nights making sure strangers didn’t try to ply her with liquor or hit on her.
She finally convinced me to go alone once, about halfway through our freshman season. She was stuck at ASU, working late on a midterm psychology paper, and couldn’t make it for our game against Stanford. We were serious underdogs, but managed to pull out a win, and there was no getting around celebrating. The entire UofA campus was teeming with energy, and it was the first time in months I let myself get a little loaded. I drunk-dialed her that night—several times, so I was told. I was so sure I said something stupid, but she assured me I was nothing but sweet and romantic. I’m pretty sure I embarrassed myself, but she didn’t tease.
I was careful not to drink too much now. That was another vow I made when I left home for college and signed to play for the Wildcats. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a college guy, and I can chug with the best of them. But I try not to let it get stupid, and usually Noles is there to keep me in line or tell me when it’s time to go home.
I wasn’t going to be my brother; I wouldn’t be the asshole. Being the asshole was the easy way out. And I was fine with things not being easy. Jason was quickly becoming a business big-shot with our father’s company. He was good at business, sales and working a room full of important people into doing exactly what he wanted. People always wanted Jason to like them, even as adults. It stunned me that they couldn’t see through his bullshit, but I guess, deep down, most of us want to be liked by the in crowd, even if the guy at the head of the table was a massive dick.
Now that Nolan and I were juniors, it was harder to sync our schedules. Nolan’s schedule was pretty full. She was taking 21 hours to make sure she could graduate in four years with her specialty. And I was seriously considering entering the draft after this season. Our Rose Bowl win, and number four finish last year, put me in a pretty good position to be a top pick, and we were already ranked pretty high heading into this season. I didn’t want to lose my chance to do this for a living. I loved the game, almost as much as I loved Nolan. But that’s what made it all so damned hard. I knew I could end up on the other end of the country, and the thought of spending a year away from her tore up my insides.
We talked about it a few times, but Nolan always shut down. She was a planner, and when I brought up the possibility of her transferring, or doing her student teaching somewhere else, she just nodded and said she’d think about it. But it was the kind of nod that I knew meant she really wouldn’t, and was instead hoping the possibility would just go away.
I didn’t have to make my decision yet. But come December, I needed to have a pretty good idea of where I was headed. I had four months to work on her, but the whole thing was just making my stomach sick. And the fucking ring in my pocket was just making my stress shoot through the roof.
I wasn’t going to ask her today. I probably wouldn’t ask her this year. But I knew I’d ask her, and I just wanted to be ready. I had most of the day off and stopped by the house to talk to dad on my way up to see Nolan. He loved her like a daughter already, and when I brought up the idea of one day making her a permanent part of the family, he hugged me so hard that my feet left the ground. I didn’t expect him to give me Grandma’s ring; I just wanted his help picking something out. So when he disappeared upstairs, and came back down with the antique box, I knew I was making the right decision.
I shoved the stress back down in my body and reminded myself to stay in control the second I saw my girl round the corner of her building—just like she did every Thursday afternoon. She was looking for me, her heavy bag slumping down her shoulder and her hair knotted up on top of her head. Damn she was beautiful. And I was so lucky.
Limited Time Special
Quick post... Waiting on the Sidelines is .99 on Amazon for a limited time! Pick up your Kindle copy before Going Long comes out in just a few short weeks! Pass it along:-)
Fun Facts, General Blathering and So Forth
I've been trying to start a new post for a few days now, but my mind seems to be wandering in all different directions. So...I give in. There's not a clear theme to this one, just a bunch of collective thoughts, fun stuffs and more about this journey I've been on.
Firstly, why is my mind wandering? Well...I promised to continue to document my indie author process and experience, and part of that is dividing yourself into a million little pieces so you can do a million little missions. I've been marketing like crazy--meeting some amazing bloggers, beta readers, reviewers and just good ole fashioned great people who love to read YA/NA romance. Before I forget to say thank you: "Thank You!" to those of you who have been so amazingly wonderful to work with, who have given up some of your reading pie to take a slice of Waiting on the Sidelines and Going Long (which releases officially Oct. 1) and who have shared your thoughts (so very kind thoughts) on the book with me and your friends. You've been the gas to keep my indie author road trip plugging along.
As for the missions? There are many. I've been advertising, sending personal emails, reaching out to bloggers, holding my breath, taking the bumps along with the praise, and then waiting. Mostly, the waiting has been the exciting part. Going Long goes live very soon (I can hardly wait). Some of you may notice it showing up early...I hate being late, so I tend to aim for early.
Now, imagine a great transition here so I can start an entirely new subject (I warned you, I'm all over the place). I thought it would be fun to throw a few fun tidbits in here about WoTS and Going Long. Let's start with football. I'm a HUGE fan. A fan of all sports, really, but I know my football. When I was about 12, I was watching the Niners play the Cowboys, and I made comment to my brother about Montana not getting enough time in the pocket, and he just smiled and told me that someday I was going to make some guy very happy. My husband would agree--I'm very helpful in picking his fantasy team (may I point out mine is doing pretty damn well, too). Anyhow, back to my point, I take my football seriously. You'll notice that the match-ups in Going Long and any reference to the BCS play-off system and rankings are pretty darn accurate (the Big Ten plays the Pac 12 in the Rose Bowl). But, given that I'm a Sun Devil and bleed maroon and gold, making the Wildcats a top-ranked team was really tough to do. We have a joke in our house that the only way the Wildcats could have a great football team is in fiction. (It's funny if you're a Sun Devil, trust me.)
Lastly, let me leave you with a little tease. I'm writing again (my favorite part of this whole thing). It's an entirely new story -- a new-adult romance full of lots of heartbreak, hope and swoon. So far, I'm pretty in love with the new guy. But I'll always have a soft spot for the old one -- Reed. I'd love to hear from his other fans out there, so please feel free to 'friend me' here or drop me a line on email. I love hearing from you. And thank you for reading. You have given me so much, and I love you all.
Firstly, why is my mind wandering? Well...I promised to continue to document my indie author process and experience, and part of that is dividing yourself into a million little pieces so you can do a million little missions. I've been marketing like crazy--meeting some amazing bloggers, beta readers, reviewers and just good ole fashioned great people who love to read YA/NA romance. Before I forget to say thank you: "Thank You!" to those of you who have been so amazingly wonderful to work with, who have given up some of your reading pie to take a slice of Waiting on the Sidelines and Going Long (which releases officially Oct. 1) and who have shared your thoughts (so very kind thoughts) on the book with me and your friends. You've been the gas to keep my indie author road trip plugging along.
As for the missions? There are many. I've been advertising, sending personal emails, reaching out to bloggers, holding my breath, taking the bumps along with the praise, and then waiting. Mostly, the waiting has been the exciting part. Going Long goes live very soon (I can hardly wait). Some of you may notice it showing up early...I hate being late, so I tend to aim for early.
Now, imagine a great transition here so I can start an entirely new subject (I warned you, I'm all over the place). I thought it would be fun to throw a few fun tidbits in here about WoTS and Going Long. Let's start with football. I'm a HUGE fan. A fan of all sports, really, but I know my football. When I was about 12, I was watching the Niners play the Cowboys, and I made comment to my brother about Montana not getting enough time in the pocket, and he just smiled and told me that someday I was going to make some guy very happy. My husband would agree--I'm very helpful in picking his fantasy team (may I point out mine is doing pretty damn well, too). Anyhow, back to my point, I take my football seriously. You'll notice that the match-ups in Going Long and any reference to the BCS play-off system and rankings are pretty darn accurate (the Big Ten plays the Pac 12 in the Rose Bowl). But, given that I'm a Sun Devil and bleed maroon and gold, making the Wildcats a top-ranked team was really tough to do. We have a joke in our house that the only way the Wildcats could have a great football team is in fiction. (It's funny if you're a Sun Devil, trust me.)
Lastly, let me leave you with a little tease. I'm writing again (my favorite part of this whole thing). It's an entirely new story -- a new-adult romance full of lots of heartbreak, hope and swoon. So far, I'm pretty in love with the new guy. But I'll always have a soft spot for the old one -- Reed. I'd love to hear from his other fans out there, so please feel free to 'friend me' here or drop me a line on email. I love hearing from you. And thank you for reading. You have given me so much, and I love you all.
Going Long Is Officially Here!
I'll keep this short, sweet and to-the-point: Going Long is live and well...everywhere!!! I'm so excited to share it with you all, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the journey for Nolan and Reed.
I love these two with all my heart, and I'm deeply touched that so many of you do, too. A special 'thank you' to my beta readers, early bloggers and reviewers for helping spread the word. I can't thank you all enough. I promise to get back to my newest project soon, once the excitement settles a little. I also promise to share more about it later. A tease or two may be in order ;-)
Happy reading!
xxoo ~ Ginger
I love these two with all my heart, and I'm deeply touched that so many of you do, too. A special 'thank you' to my beta readers, early bloggers and reviewers for helping spread the word. I can't thank you all enough. I promise to get back to my newest project soon, once the excitement settles a little. I also promise to share more about it later. A tease or two may be in order ;-)
Happy reading!
xxoo ~ Ginger
So I'm Writing Again...
So, I'm writing again. Well, not right now, exactly. Right now I'm blogging and watching baseball, cursing over the fact that my Diamondbacks traded Stephen Drew to the Boston Red Sox (he's tearing it up at Shortstop, by the way).
But in a few more innings, I'll be back with the iPod and MacBook, writing again. And it feels sooooo good. I'm falling in love with a new set of characters. I can't say much yet, but I will share that my male came to me early, somewhere near the end of writing Waiting on the Sidelines. I can tell you that he's pensive, worthy and sexy as hell. He also has a lot of crap to work through (I mean, it's romance...you have to have conflict and tension--and I LOVE really good tension). But he's also got one of those melt-you-on-the-spot, feel-it-in-your-knees, warm and chewy centers. I happen to love those, too.
I can't wait to share more with you all...and I promise to as I get a little deeper in the process. But for now, I want to give a little shout out to all the good guys out there. I feel lucky because I happen to be married to one. And I happen to be the daughter of one. And the sister of one. Real men who do right by their women and who put their families first and themselves dead last.
Maybe its my upcoming anniversary. Maybe it's the new book I'm working on. Maybe it's the high school football I've been taking in reminding me of my love for my first born character, Reed Johnson. But I'm just feeling a little appreciative tonight for all the good guys out there. Don't get me wrong, I like it when they're bad on the outside. But the inside stuff--man, that's where it counts.
OK, enough of that mushy stuff. I'll be in touch--I've got six more outs to get through so I can get back to writing about Mr. C. ;-)
Go Red Sox!
But in a few more innings, I'll be back with the iPod and MacBook, writing again. And it feels sooooo good. I'm falling in love with a new set of characters. I can't say much yet, but I will share that my male came to me early, somewhere near the end of writing Waiting on the Sidelines. I can tell you that he's pensive, worthy and sexy as hell. He also has a lot of crap to work through (I mean, it's romance...you have to have conflict and tension--and I LOVE really good tension). But he's also got one of those melt-you-on-the-spot, feel-it-in-your-knees, warm and chewy centers. I happen to love those, too.
I can't wait to share more with you all...and I promise to as I get a little deeper in the process. But for now, I want to give a little shout out to all the good guys out there. I feel lucky because I happen to be married to one. And I happen to be the daughter of one. And the sister of one. Real men who do right by their women and who put their families first and themselves dead last.
Maybe its my upcoming anniversary. Maybe it's the new book I'm working on. Maybe it's the high school football I've been taking in reminding me of my love for my first born character, Reed Johnson. But I'm just feeling a little appreciative tonight for all the good guys out there. Don't get me wrong, I like it when they're bad on the outside. But the inside stuff--man, that's where it counts.
OK, enough of that mushy stuff. I'll be in touch--I've got six more outs to get through so I can get back to writing about Mr. C. ;-)
Go Red Sox!
Waiting Gets a New Look!
Waiting on the Sidelines will always be my baby. I love that book with all my heart, so I feel a little bit like I'm sending it off to the prom in this post. The book is getting a little cover refresh. Nothing too crazy, but I think it gets a little more of the mood in the mix. I'm working on getting it updated on the Goodreads entry (thank you, Librarian status friends!). But in the meantime, here's a little taste. You can also find the new cover on Amazon, Smashwords, and very soon on B&N, Apple, Sony, Kobo and more (seems it takes a little time to ingest).
I hope you all like it as much as I do! I'm busy working on my new project, but should be at a place where I can reveal the title soon...and then maybe just a little tease. Thank you all for reading...I'm honored!
I hope you all like it as much as I do! I'm busy working on my new project, but should be at a place where I can reveal the title soon...and then maybe just a little tease. Thank you all for reading...I'm honored!
What a Year!
I did a lot of scary things this year. Like most of us, I make a lot of promises to myself, usually right about this time of year. Lose the baby weight (my kid is 10, by the way), learn to deal with stress, learn to better deal with stress, slow down and live in the moment--I've actually managed to keep most of these promises, though some are works in progress.
But there was this one thing that I wrote down every year and carried with me on scraps of paper in the depths of my wallet: Finish my book. I know this is one of those "scary things" that a lot of people carry around, but for some reason, my personal note got heavier every year I wrote it. It wasn't the writing that scared me. I'd done that. I'd done that a lot, my byline showing up in magazines, blogs, newspaper front pages. There's nothing filled with more pressure than a deadline breaking news story set to hit print in a few hours on the front page for a million-plus subscribers.
No, the writing was the easy part. For me it was the rejection. From those amazing people I read and admire and from the reading public in general. Every year I tackled my promise to myself to the ground with "it's impossible to get published" and "why go through all of that just to write something for your family and friends?" I smothered my promise--my dream, really--until it seemed so damned impossible that I almost quit writing it on scrap paper every year.
Almost.
You see, I have one of those kick-ass husbands who is one hell of an optimist. Don't get that confused with being delusional--he's very much a realist. He read the blogs with me, read the success stories of some of my favorite authors, and we talked about the odds. We talked about the odds A LOT! And when we were done, we decided that putting something personal, my book, out there for the public wasn't hard to do, and it might even get a few looks from strangers, but probably not anything crazy. And at the very least, nothing would be lost.
So, I talked an extremely savvy PR friend into joining my crazy cause, picking her brain over lunch, over text, over email, late at night, during the drive into work--all to make sure I wasn't aiming for impossible. And, of course, because she's such a super savvy PR person, she tried to talk me into moving my bar a little higher.
But I kept it where it was--I kept it comfortable, attainable and real. It's become a joke between the two of us, and I'm a little embarrassed to even write it now, but I started this whole thing a year ago with the hope that 17 people (they had to be complete strangers) would read my book. My friend's goal was much higher, and my husband's was somewhere in the middle.
We all missed the mark. And we missed it by a landslide.
It happened slowly at first, but over those first few weeks, I watched my number come and go, and my husband's next. My friend's took a little longer, but we've left that one in the dust, too. And it's because of you--amazing readers. I underestimated you, and I'm sorry. I was scared. Afraid you wouldn't notice, afraid you wouldn't care. But you did, and you do. I read your passion about books in your blogs, on your Goodreads posts, on Twitter and Facebook. And I pay attention.
And I read the stuff that's hard to take, too. The lumps. Ooooph, sometimes those are really tough. But I soak it all in. I read tips from fellow authors, and I read their reviews--especially critical ones of the books I truly love. Because I can learn from it--the good and the bad.
It won't change me. And I won't change what I write, or how I write. My tone, the emotion, the character depth, the detail--that's important to me, and if I messed around with my recipe, I would be disappointed in myself. And then I'd lose the whole reason I ever wrote my dream down on the scrap of paper in the first place.
But I will learn from it all. I already have. And I'll finesse, adding a dash here, taking away a dash there, doing my damnedest to deliver something that I'm proud of and you enjoy. Because I owe you so very much--more than you could ever know. You made something scary a whole lot less intimidating.
And it was the best resolution of my life.
Happy new year, to each and every one of you! I promise less quixotic sappiness with my next post, and instead a teaser for my next book--Blindness.
But there was this one thing that I wrote down every year and carried with me on scraps of paper in the depths of my wallet: Finish my book. I know this is one of those "scary things" that a lot of people carry around, but for some reason, my personal note got heavier every year I wrote it. It wasn't the writing that scared me. I'd done that. I'd done that a lot, my byline showing up in magazines, blogs, newspaper front pages. There's nothing filled with more pressure than a deadline breaking news story set to hit print in a few hours on the front page for a million-plus subscribers.
No, the writing was the easy part. For me it was the rejection. From those amazing people I read and admire and from the reading public in general. Every year I tackled my promise to myself to the ground with "it's impossible to get published" and "why go through all of that just to write something for your family and friends?" I smothered my promise--my dream, really--until it seemed so damned impossible that I almost quit writing it on scrap paper every year.
Almost.
You see, I have one of those kick-ass husbands who is one hell of an optimist. Don't get that confused with being delusional--he's very much a realist. He read the blogs with me, read the success stories of some of my favorite authors, and we talked about the odds. We talked about the odds A LOT! And when we were done, we decided that putting something personal, my book, out there for the public wasn't hard to do, and it might even get a few looks from strangers, but probably not anything crazy. And at the very least, nothing would be lost.
So, I talked an extremely savvy PR friend into joining my crazy cause, picking her brain over lunch, over text, over email, late at night, during the drive into work--all to make sure I wasn't aiming for impossible. And, of course, because she's such a super savvy PR person, she tried to talk me into moving my bar a little higher.
But I kept it where it was--I kept it comfortable, attainable and real. It's become a joke between the two of us, and I'm a little embarrassed to even write it now, but I started this whole thing a year ago with the hope that 17 people (they had to be complete strangers) would read my book. My friend's goal was much higher, and my husband's was somewhere in the middle.
We all missed the mark. And we missed it by a landslide.
It happened slowly at first, but over those first few weeks, I watched my number come and go, and my husband's next. My friend's took a little longer, but we've left that one in the dust, too. And it's because of you--amazing readers. I underestimated you, and I'm sorry. I was scared. Afraid you wouldn't notice, afraid you wouldn't care. But you did, and you do. I read your passion about books in your blogs, on your Goodreads posts, on Twitter and Facebook. And I pay attention.
And I read the stuff that's hard to take, too. The lumps. Ooooph, sometimes those are really tough. But I soak it all in. I read tips from fellow authors, and I read their reviews--especially critical ones of the books I truly love. Because I can learn from it--the good and the bad.
It won't change me. And I won't change what I write, or how I write. My tone, the emotion, the character depth, the detail--that's important to me, and if I messed around with my recipe, I would be disappointed in myself. And then I'd lose the whole reason I ever wrote my dream down on the scrap of paper in the first place.
But I will learn from it all. I already have. And I'll finesse, adding a dash here, taking away a dash there, doing my damnedest to deliver something that I'm proud of and you enjoy. Because I owe you so very much--more than you could ever know. You made something scary a whole lot less intimidating.
And it was the best resolution of my life.
Happy new year, to each and every one of you! I promise less quixotic sappiness with my next post, and instead a teaser for my next book--Blindness.
'Blindness' Cover Reveal
I'm so excited to share this with everyone. It's the 'Blindness' cover reveal! Book will be live in February - please feel free to shelve it like crazy now, though. I'll let you all know when pre-orders are up on Barnes & Noble and iBooks.
In the meantime, here's the cover and synopsis:
It takes a while to know who you really are. And when you lose your way, sometimes it’s hard to find it again.
Charlie Hudson was on the verge of figuring that out when her dad—the only parent and friend she ever had—died suddenly. She was barely 18, and she was alone. So she went for easy—playing life safe, running away from a home that harbored nothing but bad memories and challenges and loving a man who would take her away from it all forever.
It’s funny how chance takes over when you need it most. And that’s exactly what brought Cody Carmichael into her life. A former motocross super star, Cody was now happy to be living the blue collar life, spending his days finishing up school and his nights under the hood of some classic car, just trying to keep everything his father taught him alive. Cody and Charlie were living parallel lives, until they finally collided. And the moment he smiled at her, Charlie knew he was the one who would change everything. But was she willing to take the risk?
Cody saw through it all. He saw her—all of her. But would letting him in be too much to take? And if Charlie let herself love him—really love him—could he love her back?
In the meantime, here's the cover and synopsis:
It takes a while to know who you really are. And when you lose your way, sometimes it’s hard to find it again.
Charlie Hudson was on the verge of figuring that out when her dad—the only parent and friend she ever had—died suddenly. She was barely 18, and she was alone. So she went for easy—playing life safe, running away from a home that harbored nothing but bad memories and challenges and loving a man who would take her away from it all forever.
It’s funny how chance takes over when you need it most. And that’s exactly what brought Cody Carmichael into her life. A former motocross super star, Cody was now happy to be living the blue collar life, spending his days finishing up school and his nights under the hood of some classic car, just trying to keep everything his father taught him alive. Cody and Charlie were living parallel lives, until they finally collided. And the moment he smiled at her, Charlie knew he was the one who would change everything. But was she willing to take the risk?
Cody saw through it all. He saw her—all of her. But would letting him in be too much to take? And if Charlie let herself love him—really love him—could he love her back?
'Blindness' Teaser!
I couldn't wait any longer. I wanted you all to have a small taste of Cody and "Blindness." Book release coming in February!
Synopsis:
Blindness
A novel by Ginger Scott
It takes a while to know who you really are. And when you lose your way, sometimes it’s hard to find it again.
Charlie Hudson was on the verge of figuring that out when her dad—the only parent and friend she ever had—died suddenly. She was barely 18, and she was alone. So she went for easy—playing life safe, running away from a home that harbored nothing but bad memories and challenges and loving a man who would take her away from it all forever.
It’s funny how chance takes over when you need it most. And that’s exactly what brought Cody Carmichael into her life. A former motocross super star, Cody was now happy to be living the blue collar life, spending his days finishing up school and his nights under the hood of some classic car, just trying to keep everything his father taught him alive. Cody and Charlie were living parallel lives, until they finally collided. And the moment he smiled at her, Charlie knew he was the one who would change everything. But was she willing to take the risk?
Cody saw through it all. He saw her—all of her. But would letting him in be too much to take? And if Charlie let herself love him—really love him—could he love her back?
Teaser:
Cody is still next to me, his grip on my hand once again strong, but his body is stiff. I’m rewinding mentally, realizing just how far I went. Shit! I said way too much! I don’t even know what I’m doing here. This all suddenly feels way too intimate—wrong. My pulse is speeding up the more I think about what Trevor would think if he saw me, saw this—saw us!
I slide the pillow from my chest to the side and work my fingers until they’re out of Cody’s grip. He remains next to me, but isn’t moving. I’m pretty sure I just made him feel unwelcome in his own bed, the awkwardness creeping in now and almost choking me. I have to leave, leave this bed and then leave this room. I’ll be calm until I shut his door, and then I’m running.
Yes, that’s it. I’ll run.
“Oh God, I’m sorry. I just unloaded, like, way too much on you. I’m…I’m just going to go,” I say, pushing myself up to sit at the side of the bed and slip on my shoes. The light is dim, but I can tell that Cody’s eyes have shifted to me. He’s still not moving or speaking, and I don’t really want him to. I just want to get out of his room without him saying a word.
“Thank you, truly,” I say as I stand and look once more at the ceiling. “The stars? They’re amazing,” my voice wavers, and I turn and walk to his door. I’m gripping the handle, willing myself to keep it together for just a few more seconds until I’m out of his view, when I feel his body behind me and see his hand flat against the door.
His breath against my neck raises every hair on my body. I’m looking intently at his fingers splayed out on the wood paneling of the door in front of me, my hands still gripping the door handle. Beyond this door, my life continues on one path—a path I know. A path I love. But I’m stalled, considering what happens if I stay in this room. I’m paralyzed. Fear. Indecision.
“Cody, I…” I start, but don’t know how to finish.
“Just stay,” he says, his voice barely audible, and the air released from his words sends more chills around my neck and down my entire body.
“Just…” I hear him swallow, and even though I can’t see him, I know he’s struggling. I keep my eyes forward and watch his fingers curl into a fist on the door, clinching tightly. “I won’t…I wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. I’m not asking you to do anything. Please…please just stay,” his head falling flat against the back of mine as he speaks. I can feel him breathe me in, and I feel like I’m racing down a hill, lightheaded from the conflict brewing inside.
“Okay,” I whisper, not even aware that it was me speaking. I’m on autopilot, turning away from the path I know and recognize on the other side of the door, but desperately worried that it won’t be there when I finally leave this room.
Cody’s hand slides from the door to my shoulder, and I shiver as he traces the back of his fingers down the length of my arm until he finds my hand once again. He pulls me to him, forcing me to turn into his body. I keep my eyes focused on the words on his shirt, reading the dates and towns to myself. Some tour shirt—a concert, perhaps? Or maybe a race? I’m trying to keep my mind busy with this pointless task when Cody reaches for my chin and pulls my face to look at his.
His eyes are serious. Even in the darkness of his room, I can see the flecks of blue—I’m that close. I watch them as they move to the side of my face to follow his hand as he pushes my hair away from my face slowly, tucking it behind my ear but leaving it there, his fingers tangled deep within my hair. He tilts his head to the side, and I think for a moment that he’s about to kiss me. I lick my lips on instinct, and I feel him tense up from it.
His hand forces me forward into him and I close my eyes, almost believing that if I don’t see it coming I won’t be able to stop it. I feel his chest press to mine next, then his hand wraps deeper into my hair so he’s cradling the back of my head. His other hand slides up my side to the middle of my back, and his chin comes down above my head so I’m completely tucked within his embrace. I’m sheltered, and it’s the first time I’ve ever felt my heart actually stop from being in someone’s arms.
Giving in, I bring my hands up Cody’s back so I’m hugging him tightly to me, my fingers gripping at his torn T-shirt. I slide my face flat against him and let out everything I’ve been holding in—it feels like for years.
Synopsis:
Blindness
A novel by Ginger Scott
It takes a while to know who you really are. And when you lose your way, sometimes it’s hard to find it again.
Charlie Hudson was on the verge of figuring that out when her dad—the only parent and friend she ever had—died suddenly. She was barely 18, and she was alone. So she went for easy—playing life safe, running away from a home that harbored nothing but bad memories and challenges and loving a man who would take her away from it all forever.
It’s funny how chance takes over when you need it most. And that’s exactly what brought Cody Carmichael into her life. A former motocross super star, Cody was now happy to be living the blue collar life, spending his days finishing up school and his nights under the hood of some classic car, just trying to keep everything his father taught him alive. Cody and Charlie were living parallel lives, until they finally collided. And the moment he smiled at her, Charlie knew he was the one who would change everything. But was she willing to take the risk?
Cody saw through it all. He saw her—all of her. But would letting him in be too much to take? And if Charlie let herself love him—really love him—could he love her back?
Teaser:
Cody is still next to me, his grip on my hand once again strong, but his body is stiff. I’m rewinding mentally, realizing just how far I went. Shit! I said way too much! I don’t even know what I’m doing here. This all suddenly feels way too intimate—wrong. My pulse is speeding up the more I think about what Trevor would think if he saw me, saw this—saw us!
I slide the pillow from my chest to the side and work my fingers until they’re out of Cody’s grip. He remains next to me, but isn’t moving. I’m pretty sure I just made him feel unwelcome in his own bed, the awkwardness creeping in now and almost choking me. I have to leave, leave this bed and then leave this room. I’ll be calm until I shut his door, and then I’m running.
Yes, that’s it. I’ll run.
“Oh God, I’m sorry. I just unloaded, like, way too much on you. I’m…I’m just going to go,” I say, pushing myself up to sit at the side of the bed and slip on my shoes. The light is dim, but I can tell that Cody’s eyes have shifted to me. He’s still not moving or speaking, and I don’t really want him to. I just want to get out of his room without him saying a word.
“Thank you, truly,” I say as I stand and look once more at the ceiling. “The stars? They’re amazing,” my voice wavers, and I turn and walk to his door. I’m gripping the handle, willing myself to keep it together for just a few more seconds until I’m out of his view, when I feel his body behind me and see his hand flat against the door.
His breath against my neck raises every hair on my body. I’m looking intently at his fingers splayed out on the wood paneling of the door in front of me, my hands still gripping the door handle. Beyond this door, my life continues on one path—a path I know. A path I love. But I’m stalled, considering what happens if I stay in this room. I’m paralyzed. Fear. Indecision.
“Cody, I…” I start, but don’t know how to finish.
“Just stay,” he says, his voice barely audible, and the air released from his words sends more chills around my neck and down my entire body.
“Just…” I hear him swallow, and even though I can’t see him, I know he’s struggling. I keep my eyes forward and watch his fingers curl into a fist on the door, clinching tightly. “I won’t…I wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. I’m not asking you to do anything. Please…please just stay,” his head falling flat against the back of mine as he speaks. I can feel him breathe me in, and I feel like I’m racing down a hill, lightheaded from the conflict brewing inside.
“Okay,” I whisper, not even aware that it was me speaking. I’m on autopilot, turning away from the path I know and recognize on the other side of the door, but desperately worried that it won’t be there when I finally leave this room.
Cody’s hand slides from the door to my shoulder, and I shiver as he traces the back of his fingers down the length of my arm until he finds my hand once again. He pulls me to him, forcing me to turn into his body. I keep my eyes focused on the words on his shirt, reading the dates and towns to myself. Some tour shirt—a concert, perhaps? Or maybe a race? I’m trying to keep my mind busy with this pointless task when Cody reaches for my chin and pulls my face to look at his.
His eyes are serious. Even in the darkness of his room, I can see the flecks of blue—I’m that close. I watch them as they move to the side of my face to follow his hand as he pushes my hair away from my face slowly, tucking it behind my ear but leaving it there, his fingers tangled deep within my hair. He tilts his head to the side, and I think for a moment that he’s about to kiss me. I lick my lips on instinct, and I feel him tense up from it.
His hand forces me forward into him and I close my eyes, almost believing that if I don’t see it coming I won’t be able to stop it. I feel his chest press to mine next, then his hand wraps deeper into my hair so he’s cradling the back of my head. His other hand slides up my side to the middle of my back, and his chin comes down above my head so I’m completely tucked within his embrace. I’m sheltered, and it’s the first time I’ve ever felt my heart actually stop from being in someone’s arms.
Giving in, I bring my hands up Cody’s back so I’m hugging him tightly to me, my fingers gripping at his torn T-shirt. I slide my face flat against him and let out everything I’ve been holding in—it feels like for years.
