Andrea Nourse's Blog, page 21

Lie Baby Lie

Lie Baby Lie was one of my favorite books to write. I loved both Reese and Caroline. They’re two beautifully flawed women who are unlikely friends.

It was also the first book that I wrote without knowing the title. For me, I almost always have a title the instant I start writing. It comes to me right along with the character or opening scene. I spent weeks agonizing over the title. Ultimately, I landed on and loved Lie Baby Lie. It just fit so perfectly.

Lie Baby Lie (February 2019)
Caroline has a one track mind. She wants a baby, and she’s willing to do anything to get what she wants. Her husband promised her she’d have her wish. When a secret from his past threatens to ruin Caroline’s plans, she takes matters into her own hands. His lies soon become her own web of lies and deceit.

Reese is desperate for a child too, but years of infertility and loss have jaded her. Secrets and lies have become second nature. The secrets she’s kept from her daughter. The lies to her husband about pregnancy tests. Reese hides behind these lies, protecting her family from truths that could hurt them and her.

Their lives are woven together in a way neither women understand. An unlikely, fragile friendship is born. Can it withstand the secrets and lies?

Available on Amazon in paperback or on Kindle

Writing & Marketing as an Indie Author

The hardest part of being an author is sucking it up and being you’re own hype man. Sure writing and editing are hard too, but having to sell yourself with confidence when you used it all pouring yourself into your books? That’s like function on two hours of sleep without a drop of coffee.

As an independently published author, 100% of the marketing is on me. Should be easy considering I am a marketer by trade, but it’s not. Self-promoting is difficult. It feels icky.

But it’s necessary.

I write because I want to share stories about every day people whose lives are like our own. I want readers to see themselves on the pages. I want you to relate.

A friend recently challenged me to share and promote my books. I resisted and argued. She didn’t back down, and I eventually saw her point.

Over the next few days, I’m going to be sharing a bit about each of my books. Why I write them and what I hope the readers connect to.

I hope you come along for the ride and fall in love with the women on these pages just as much as I did.

American Wife, Curtis Sittenfeld

**Review**
American Wife, Curtis Sittenfeld

A good friend forced to read this book. She surprised me with it on my birthday after casually texting to see if I’d read it. When I told her I hadn’t, she replied, “don’t, it’s horrible.” Imagine my surprise and amusement when it arrived at my house a few days later. (Side note: get you a friend like this because they’re the best). American Wife started slow, but once Alice and Charlie Met, I couldn’t put it down. I also couldn’t not picture Laura and George W. Bush (the book is a fictionalized version of Laura’s life). So, that was fun during the intimate scenes.

This book was raw, emotional, honest and also amusing (even my son would’ve enjoyed all the fart and poop mentions). I laughed and almost cried a few times.

American Wife also shows what can happen if you learn to put aside differences and focus on the good.

Definitely recommend. Both the book and my friend.

SLAY, Brittney Morris

**Review**

SLAY, Brittney Morris

I’m a white, middle-class suburban working mom who’s never gamed a day in her life. I also don’t read YA.

I loved everything about this book. The characters. SLAY. The story. The writing. All of it was amazing.

Keira is a strong, brilliant teenager. She recognized a need and rather than wait for someone else to build the game she needed and wanted to play, she built it. She created the community wanted to be a part of and gave a home and safe place to so many. I’m doing so, she found her voice and gave a voice to the hundreds of thousands of SLAY players in the world.

This is the universal story of SLAY—what everyone can connect to—the desire and need to be seen, understood, celebrated, and to be a part of something. To belong.

SLAY is without a doubt one of the best books I’ve read this year and I’ll be waiting anxiously for Brittney Morris’s next book.

Right After the Weather, Carol Anshaw

**Review**

Right After the Weather, Carol Anshaw (10.1.19)

Right After the Weather is like a beautiful slow burn, except you never quite touch the fire.

Cate is a dynamic, rich and relatable character. Her circle of friends and family are equally dynamic.

While the story didn’t propel me forward, the prose and characters did.

Thank you to the publisher for the gifted copy in exchange for an honest review.

9.25.19 – InstaShortie – Over-Expectated Chapter Two

Need to catch up? Check out Chapter One here.

CHAPTER TWO

Darkness met me when I
opened my eyes. No light from outside, which meant it was still early. I
stretched my arms over my head, arching my back and yawning. My bladder begged
me to get out of bed, and I’d tried unsuccessfully to ignore it. The room, though
fully equipped with the wonders of modern central heating, felt just a few
degrees warmer than the air outside. Shivering, I slipped out from under the
covers and braced myself for the cold, laminate floors. Not hardwood, of
course, not in this cheap apartment.

I ran to the bathroom,
not even bothering the flip on the light. As I sat on the toilet, I closed my
eyes and replayed the events of last night. I opened then quickly. There was
absolutely no need to relive any of that. Still single. Now unemployed. But,
hey, I did win a two-week cruise with my best friend. After I flushed, I made
my way back to the bed. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee wafted in my room,
which was odd considering I hadn’t made it and I didn’t have one of those fancy
coffee makers with a timer.

Mom. It had to be, unless
the world’s nicest intruder was currently in my house brewing me coffee before
sunrise on a Saturday. 

“Ugh,” I groaned and
grabbed a pair of flannel pajama pants off the floor.

“I can hear you,” my
mother called from the other side of the door.

“Good morning,” I said,
forcing as much fake enthusiasm into my scowl as possible.

“I made coffee. You
really should change the password on your computer. Took me all of two tries to
guess it. Also—”

“Nope,” I said. I held
my hands up in surrender. I wasn’t ready to talk about why that name was
my password, or how she’d figured it out so quickly. Geri Yancey didn’t do
boundaries. No locked door could keep her from breaking into her daughter’s
apartment to make coffee and hack into her only child’s computer.

“Anyway, I took a look
at your resume.”

“Can I have coffee
before you dive into how pathetic my life really is?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to say
the words, Mom. I can hear it in your tone and the fact that you hacked into my
computer to fluff up my resume for Uncle Ted.”

“Carrie, I just don’t
understand why—”

“Coffee first. Then you
can shame your little heart out.” I padded into the kitchen and pulled open the
cabinet. Grabbing the largest clean mug I could find, I pulled it out and
filled it with coffee. No cream. No sugar. Just black. 

Mom was sitting on the
couch with my laptop perched in her lap. I reluctantly made my way over to her
and sat beside her. No matter how much I wanted to avoid whatever conversation we
were about to have, I knew resistance was pointless.

“Well, the one bright
spot is that you have agency experience. Though, I’m not sure we can put Jake
down as a reference.”

I cringed. It was far
too early to hear that name. As long as she didn’t dive into details, I
might survive this conversation.

“Considering how badly
you screwed that one up.” She clearly had no intention of avoiding painful
memories.

“Mom, please,” I whined.
I didn’t want to talk about my lack of experience in my field any more than I
wanted to drudge up the ex-boyfriend that sent me crying back to minimum wage
and stocking shelves. “Not today. Besides, I didn’t screw anything up.”

“Sure, dear.” My mother
patted my knee and turned to face me. Her brown eyes studied mine for a moment.
I got my eyes from her, as she liked to remind me. The mousey blonde hair came
from my father’s side of the family. “Who was your boss at Tabor and
Associates?”

“Jake,” I replied. His
name spilled from my mouth like venom. “His boss was Robin.”

“Can we put her down?”

Considering Robin was
the reason we broke up, probably not. I shook my head. “Can we just leave that
one off? I was only there two years.”

“It’s your only relevant
experience.”

“This is Uncle Ted we
are talking about. Your brother won’t dive into his niece’s resume.”

“And if Uncle Ted
doesn’t hire you?”

I laughed. “Mom, Uncle
Ted once paid me two hundred dollars to tie his shoes because I needed a new
tire on my car, I’m pretty sure he’ll hire me the second I ask.”

Mom smiled and said,
“You’re probably right but can you take this seriously, just in case he
doesn’t?”

“Sure,” I replied, “oh,
by the way, I’m going on a cruise on Monday.”

“What?”

“With Aaron.” I held my
breath as I waited for her response. The only thing she hated more than my lack
of career growth was my friendship with Aaron. Ever since she found him
standing naked in her kitchen digging through the refrigerator our sophomore
year of high school, she hadn’t been able to say his name without gagging just
a little. The visual of Aaron’s naked ass was forever etched in her mind.

“Excuse me?”

“Mom, I know you heard
me. Aaron won, well, I won, a two-week cruise through the Mediterranean.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Not even a little.”

“Do you think now is a
good time for you to be galivanting halfway across the world with … Aaron.” Her
nose wrinkled and her lips curled in disgust.

“Aaron,” I said,
repeating his name just to watch her squirm, “won the trip for us, so yeah, he
has to go. And, I’m unemployed now, what better time to escape reality for a
little while.”

“And if Uncle Ted hires
you?”

“Then I start in two
weeks like any other normal job.”

“This is a bad idea.”

“But what if I meet some hot Greek guy, fall in love, get married and squirt out a few grandbabies.” Mentioning Aaron was guaranteed to produce a reaction of disgust. Mentioning future grandbabies was sure to elicit my mother’s approval of anything.

She thought for a moment. Her eyes twinkled at the possibilities. She was probably naming her grandchildren as she sat there.

Smiling, she said, “I suppose you’re right. Two weeks is a normal lead time before starting a job. Do you have clothes? Formal dresses for dinner? Bathing suits? Maybe we should go over to Green Hills today.”

And just like that, I
went from winning a cruise to winning a new wardrobe. “That sounds like an
excellent idea, Mom.”

A Dear John Letter

Dear Fear,

I’ve given you nearly 38 years of my life. I’ve let you guide and dictate nearly every move.

You’ve made decisions for me that I’ll always regret. You’ve made me wonder what if far too many times.

You’ve made me say no when yes was all I wanted. You’ve pushed me to say yes when I needed to scream no.

But this relationship isn’t working anymore.

It’s not me. It’s you.

Of course, we’ll always be friends. Perhaps not the fondest of friends. After all, we’ll never have Paris as you’ve forbidden me from flying over the ocean.

So, while this isn’t goodbye, it is a departure. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon. More likely than not, our paths will cross when I most expect it. I’ll be ready and waiting. A quick hug. A peck on the cheek. But that is all. Nothing more.

I’ll always carry a piece of you with me, but you’ll never have all of me again.

The Stillwater Girls, Minka Kent

**Review**

The Stillwater Girls, Minka Kent

Wow. From page one I was hooked. I needed to uncover everything and kept making guesses along the way. Some right. Some wrong.

The voice of this novel was amazing. The writing flowed easily and allowed me to immerse myself in the characters.

I absolutely loved this book and I need a sequel. Maybe even a where are they now novella.

9.17.19 InstaShortie – Over-Expectated

“Men like you,” I said and raised my glass, “are the reason women like me have vibrators.”

The amber liquid hit my tongue in a shockwave and burned as it flowed down my throat. I dropped the glass on the bar and grabbed my purse from the hook underneath. Not bothering to give my date a second glance, I slid off the tall stool and tugged my shirt back into place.

“You owe me for that drink,” he replied. “Bitch.”

I paused and squared my shoulders, preparing my response. My jaw clenched in an effort to hold in the tirade begging to break free.

“It’s on the house, Carrie,” the bartender, Adam, called after me. 

I waved to say thank you, but didn’t turn around. Instead, I put one foot in front of the other and pulled out my phone to order an Uber. I should have done it an hour ago, the first time Grabby McGrabby Hands tried to touch my boob. Or five minutes ago when he called me a slut for winking at Adam. Or, perhaps, I should have kept my swiping finger to myself and ignored the impulse to get out of the house.

Literally nothing good comes from a right swipe at ten o’clock at night. Nothing. McGrabby was just another mistake in a long string of bad decisions I’d made sitting alone in my apartment. If only I’d gone to the grocery store and picked up more popcorn. Then, I could have used my fingers to shove salty goodness in my mouth and continue to ignore the fact that I am thirty-two, still working in retail, and single. I don’t even have a cat or a dog as my landlord is strictly anti-anything with fur, gills or wings. I don’t even think she likes humans, but that’s an entirely different story.

I stepped out into the darkness and wrapped my coat tighter. The bitter December air was yet another reminder of this disastrous evening. I could be at home, snuggled under my down comforter—that I got for 75% off retail—but instead, I am out in the cold. Alone and praying that McGrabby stays safely inside the bar and away from me or any other unsuspecting female.

According to the app, my ride was a few minutes away. I clicked out of that app and hovered my finger over the app that had caused me so much trouble.

“Tinder?” I mumbled to no one. “Goodbye.”

I pushed my finger against the screen and waited for the tiny red X to appear. When it did, I tapped it and confirmed my desire to delete the headache. No more swiping. No more winking or flirting or paying an algorithm to find my match. Apparently, I wasn’t the type that could find their type by answering lame questions about my inner desires.

This could be because I don’t know what I want. Or, who I want. I’m not sure I even know my most basic desires, much less my innermost ones. At thirty-two, I’m supposed to have this shit figured out. I have a degree. I followed the rules. I dated. I made friends. I pushed myself forward. I did everything I was supposed to, and yet, here I am. Nowhere near where I should be.

My phone lit up with an incoming call. I groaned, but answered.

“Hey,” I said, sighing. “What are you doing up this late, Mom?”

“Did you see the news?” she asked. Her voice filled with a strange mix of anxiety and excitement.

“No.”

“Oh, sweetie,” she cooed. Now she just sounded sad.

“Who died?”

“Carrie! No one.”

“Mom, it’s cold and my Uber should be here soon, could you just tell me?”

“Galaxy Apparel went under. Closing all stores immediately.” She drew in a deep breath. “Apparently, the CEO and CFO were using the chain as a front to launder money.”

“What?” I pressed the phone closer to my ear as if that would provide the clarity I needed. “I was just there today, Mom. I go into work at nine tomorrow. Everything was fine.” 

“Check your email.”

“Hold on, let me put you on speaker.” I yanked the phone down and opened my email. A two sentence message from my boss confirmed the news. Closed. Immediately. 

“You know what this means, right?” my mom asked with a renewed sense of purpose.

“That I’m unemployed and even more pathetic than I was two minutes ago?”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Carrie. This means you can finally put that degree your father and I paid for to use.”

“If I don’t end up homeless first.” I lifted the phone back to my ear. A white sedan pulled up. “My Uber is here, can I call you back?”

“No.” She sighed and continued, “I know you won’t actually call me back. I’ll stay on. You can just listen if you don’t want to talk.”

“Great,” I said, rolling my eyes. I pulled open the door and slid into the back seat. The driver repeated my address to me and I confirmed. I leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes. “Mom, I know you mean well, but I don’t have the patience for a lecture right now.”

“It’s not a lecture, dear. I just want you to call your Uncle Ted tomorrow. There is an opening at his agency. Entry-level, but without experience, it’s the best you can hope for. I’ve already told him you’ll be giving him a call. He’s expecting you.”

“Perfect.” I groaned. “I’ll call him.”

“Are you wallowing? I can hear it in your voice. Don’t wallow. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. This is a gift, Carrie. A rare gift. I’ll see you tomorrow. Since you won’t be at work. I’ll be by first thing in the morning. We can polish up that resume.”

“Sure, Mom,” I said, not bothering to argue. It was pointless. My mother had a new project and not even her subject would stand in her way. “See you then.”

I hung up before she could respond. Rereading the email, I couldn’t believe it. As much as I hated my job at Galaxy, I’d been there for four years now. It paid the bills and was easy. Plus, I got amazing deals on clothes, and I had plenty of downtime to read or pretend to work on that novel I was determined to write. A job with Uncle Ted would give me none of that. It would exile me to a life of “yes sir” and tiny cubicles. Office politics would take over my life, and I’d end up bringing work home on the weekends. I knew the drill. I’d watched every single one of my friends lose their souls to corporate America. As much as I hated being stuck in retail, at least I was stuck on my own terms.

“Miss?” the driver called back to me. “We’re here.”

“Thank you,” I said and held in a yawn. I thanked him for the peaceful ride and climbed out of the car and back into the cold air. The walk up the stairs to my one-bedroom apartment was dark. The light in the breezeway burned out a month ago and the landlord hadn’t yet replaced it despite countless messages from both myself and my neighbor. 

The key caught in the lock, as it always did, and I yanked it hard. It took a few tries, but it opened eventually. It always did. I felt along the wall and flipped on the lights. My shoe flipped across the room and landed just in front of the TV as I kicked it off. The second hit the ground just behind its mate. I slipped my bra off, sighing when it released its hold, and dropped it onto the kitchen counter. I could deal with it tomorrow. All of this could be dealt with tomorrow. Tonight, I planned to wallow my heart out.

Before I could turn off my phone, an incoming call illuminated the screen. Assuming it was my mother again, I went to ignore it. It wasn’t.

“Carrie!” my best friend Aaron shouted in my ear. “You’ll never guess what just happened?”

“If you’re calling about the Galaxy news, I already know.”

“The what? Why would I be calling about your stupid job at midnight?” he asked. “Remember that cruise contest we entered?”

“No.” I yawned. Aaron was always forwarding me random giveaways and contests. I was his designated bonus entry.

“The two week cruise. In Greece, Carrie,” he said. His voice filled with indignation at my inability to remember.

“Aaron, you enter a thousand sweepstakes a week. That’s all your social media is. Shares of giveaways.”

“Whatever.”

“Okay, two-week cruise. In Greece. I don’t remember, but I will pretend I do. I’m on the same page,” I lied and poured myself a generous glass of wine.

“I won! Well, technically, you won.”

“What? I didn’t get an email?”

“Of course not, I signed you up using the email address I created for you.”

“I won’t ask now, but we will be discussing boundaries.”

“Did you hear me? You won, Carrie! We’re going on a cruise!”

“Don’t I get to pick my plus one?”

“Nope,” he said. I heard the distinct sound of Cheetos being crunched. “Besides, who else would you want to go with?”

“Tiffany. Shannon. Lauren,” I said, listing off my other friends. All of whom I would much rather be trapped on a cruise ship with.

“Whatever.”

“When is this cruise?”

“We’d leave on Monday.”

“As in two days from today?”

“Carrie, you’re unemployed, single and cat-less.”

“Thank you for the reminder.”

“Pack your bags, Carrie! I can’t believe I finally won something!”

“I won, Aaron.” He muttered something about me being ungrateful and hung up the phone. I turned mine off before anyone else could call or text. My mind whirled with the news of the evening. Shit date. Unemployed. Won a cruise. It was like whiplash. Unlucky. Unlucky. Lucky. 

I flopped onto the couch and lifted the wine glass to my lips. Maybe Mom was right, this was just the push I needed.

Cilka’s Journey, Heather Morris

**Review**

Cilka’s Journey, Heather Morris (10.1.19)

The Tattooist Of Auschwitz was good. Very good, in fact. But Cilka’s Journey was amazing.

This young woman survived more than any of us can even imagine. She saw the absolute worst of the world during WWII, and then saw it again when she was sentenced to hard labor in a Russian work camp.

Despite this, she remained focused on the good. She fought for herself and her fellow prisoners. Cilka is the kind of woman who embodies love and hope.

The one thing I wish this book had was more of her life after the prison camp. I wanted to experience her life after and see her happy and free.

Perhaps that can be the next book.

As much as I loved Lale and Gita in the Tattooist Of Auschwitz, I felt more connected to Cilka and her story.

Thank you to St. Martin’s Press for the gifted copy.