Posted in Book Blitz

BLOG BLITZ: Sharing You – Molly McAdams (+ Except, Giveaway & Guest Post)

Synopsis

Twenty-three year old, Kamryn Cunningham has left all she’s ever known and moved to a small town where no one knows her name, who her parents are, or her social status in the horseracing world. Months after opening her own bakery and evading attempts of being set up by her new best friend, she meets Brody. But Kamryn fights the instant pull between them because there’s a detail she can’t dismiss. Brody’s married.

To say that twenty-six year old, Brody Saco has had a rough marriage would be an understatement. After marrying his pregnant girlfriend, he spends the next six years in a relationship filled with hatred, manipulation, and guilt involving a tragedy that happened five years earlier. When he keeps running into his sister-in-law’s best friend, Kamryn, he can’t ignore that she makes him feel more with just one look than his wife ever has; and soon he can’t continue fight his feelings for her.

When staying apart proves to be too difficult, Brody and Kamryn enter a relationship full of stolen moments and nights that end too soon while they wait for Brody to file for divorce. But the guilt that comes with their relationship may prove to be too much for Kamryn, and Brody might not be strong enough to face the tragedy from his past in order to leave his conniving wife.

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Sharing You: Why I wrote about a taboo subject

When I decided to write this story, I had people telling me not to. I had a lot of: “Uhh … are you sure you want to write about that?” “Maybe you should consider something else…” and “No, no. Absolutely not. Women will hate you.”

Well, considering I already had a lot of women mad at me over a certain male character and a scene that shall not be named in chapter 13 of a certain book … I was willing to have them hate me all over again. I don’t want to just write stories that will please people. I want to write real life. And Sharing You is real life.

Sure, we hear stories of cheating, and automatically we curl our lips at the thought. “How could he/she?” “What a home-wrecker.” “Poor (insert name here).” It’s the automatic thoughts that go through our heads, right? I know it’s what goes through my head every time. And it’s what went through my head when my husband told me about his work partner and his girlfriend I would be meeting that night. I’m pretty sure I yelled “What?!” really loud, said a few no ways, and had a disgusted look on my face. I was determined not to meet the girlfriend, and to forever hate my husband’s partner.

I had my arms crossed and a scowl on my face the entire drive to the restaurant, I was mumbling to myself, and I asked my husband how he could be so okay with it about fifty some odd times. And then I met them … and everything that had been going through my mind suddenly shifted. Now, before I continue, I should probably say I do not condone cheating. I feel like if you would cheat on your significant other, you should leave them before you do something with another person. But I could not help but get captured in a moment with this couple. I have quite literally never seen a couple more perfect for each other.

We started hanging out with them more and more, and one night, the girlfriend—we’ll call her “S”—told me all about her story with “R”. From the very beginning, to where they were at that point. It was heartbreaking, I cried with her, and I felt every emotion pouring from her over to me. I listened to the heartache they went through to be together, and witnessed how much this had taken a toll on them. I loved their story. Still wasn’t a fan of the cheating … but their love for each other … that’s what I loved. I was able to witness them finally getting married, and it is the only time I’ve been so moved by a wedding other than my own. R & S belong together, and that’s why I asked if I could write their story.

Because sometimes it’s not as easy as just blaming the “other woman”. Sometimes there are other things that come into play that we may not see/hear about. Like a very bad marriage that you feel trapped in. Sometimes the people who are suffering the most are, in fact, the ones cheating. My hope is that you can see that, and see why I decided to write their story despite the hard topic.

Molly’s Daily Question: Do you think that it is worth it to fight for your forever with the person you are meant to be with, no matter the cost?

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SHARING YOU Excerpt: Complete

My phone started ringing as I stepped out of the shower, and I hurried to dry off before running to the nightstand. A wide smile crossed my face when I saw his name on the screen.

“Hey! I didn’t think you were going to call.”

Brody had come over the last two nights as well, but we were both worried about pushing our luck with a fourth. Even though I hated not knowing when we would get to see each other, or even talk again, the surprise of hearing from him almost made it worth it.

“Can I come over?” he asked hurriedly.

I frowned and glanced at my phone quickly before bringing it back to my ear. “Of course, are you okay?”

“I am, I just need to see you.”

My smile came back and I took off for the door leading to the garage. “Okay, I’ll have the garage door opened, and the other one unlocked. Just come in.”

“Be there soon.”

Running back to my bathroom, I threw the towel on the floor and brushed my teeth, cutting it short when I heard the door shut.

“Kam?” his deep voice called from the front of my condo.

“Shit!” I hissed, and rinsed out my mouth before running to my room. “Be out in a sec!” Throwing on the first tank top and shorts my hands touched, I took a few seconds to settle my breathing before walking calmly out to meet him.

He already had his shirt and vest off, and the way his dark eyes raked over my body had my stomach heating. There was a determined look on his face as he took long steps to meet me, and just before we got to each other, he shook his head and said, “I can’t do ‘slow’ anymore.”

His arms went around me, and he brought his mouth down to mine. The minute our lips touched, something in me ignited, and a small groan came from Brody when I opened my mouth to him and his tongue met mine. His large hands slid down my sides, his thumbs barely grazing the side of my breasts before continuing down to rest on my hips, pulling me closer to him. I let the tips of my fingers trail down his chest until I hit the bottom of his undershirt and lifted, letting him finish taking it off and dropping it on the floor.

“If you want to stop, you need to say it now.”

“I’m not saying anything,” I whispered against his lips.

I couldn’t. We’d agreed to go slow, but nothing about what we were doing was normal. Even though we’d kept the last three nights pretty chaste, the charge between us had been growing steadily, and we’d been in some sort of unspoken agreement that it was getting too hard to stay away from each other. Both silently moving away from each other when the electricity between us grew, both pulling away breathlessly from kisses that had our resolve quickly slipping.

Just before his mouth slammed down on mine, he mumbled, “Thank God.”

The force of his kiss surprised me and a high-pitched moan slipped from my chest. Brody laughed softly as one of his hands left my hip and went to my back and under my shirt, his hand leaving a trail of fire on my skin.

Turning us so the backs of his legs were hitting the couch, I pushed back and followed him down, planting myself on his lap and stifling another moan when our new position had his erection pressing against me. Brody brought our mouths back together and when I rocked against his hard length, he took my bottom lip between his teeth and tugged gently. When he released me, I sat up straighter so my chest was directly in front of his face and went back to rolling my hips against him.

With a growl, he leaned forward and pulled the stretchy material of my tank top down to free my breasts and sucked one nipple into his mouth. I whimpered when he bit down before resuming his torturous licking; when my eyes were finally able to flutter open again, I looked down to see him looking up from under his dark eyelashes and goose bumps covered my body at the sight. It was strangely erotic and I couldn’t stop watching him tease my nipple now that I’d started. The hand that wasn’t caressing my breast was gripping my hip and I reached down to slide his fingers under the thin material of my shorts.

He released my breast with a soft pop and brought my face to his, staring intently in my eyes. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

I sat up on my knees, giving him better access, and leaned in to whisper, “I was stupid to think we could take it slow.” I pressed my lips softly to his once, but didn’t move away. “Don’t leave tonight, Brody, please. Stay with me.”

His response was to kiss me deeply while his fingers moved to stroke along my soft folds. “Christ, Kamryn,” he groaned, and slid one long finger deep inside me as his thumb rubbed against my clit, and I couldn’t stop the whimper that bubbled from my lips from having him touch me like this.

I ground my hips against his hand as he continued to move his fingers in a way I’d never experienced with Charles, not that Charles and I hadn’t done numerous sexual activities, but he was always pushing for the ones that benefited him, and sex with him didn’t last long; so more often than not, I ended up frustrated or excusing myself to the bathroom to finish myself. The muscles low in my stomach tightened, and my entire body was warming, I was close to begging him not to stop when he slipped a second finger inside and my body exploded. Hard. My head fell back as a breathy cry left me and I rode out wave after wave of the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.

His fingers didn’t still, but softened and slowed as he pressed his lips against my throat. “You’re so beautiful.”

Bringing my head back down, I rested my forehead against his as I fumbled with the zipper and button on his uniform pants, my hands were shaking so much from the after effects of my orgasm it took two tries just to pull the zipper down; but the moment I finally succeeded, Brody’s hand left my shorts and his large fingers curled around my wrists.

“I don’t have condoms.” He looked to the side and blinked a few times, his brow furrowed. “God I can’t even remember the last time I bought any.”

Brody’s hands preventing me from continuing only made me want this more. I flexed my fingers and knew that this stop was a good thing, something we should probably take advantage of. But I didn’t care. “Are you clean?” I asked softly.

“Yes, are you?”

I nodded. “And I’m on the pill.”

I’d barely finished my sentence before Brody had both of us off the couch, my legs around his hips, and was walking. “Room, Kamryn, where is it?”

“Down the hall, last door on the right.”

His mouth captured mine again as he turned toward the hall and began taking long strides. Not two feet from the opening his pants fell the rest of the way down and Brody tripped, sending us crashing into the wall. Our kisses never faltered, even throughout our laughing, but I unwrapped my legs from his hips as he hurriedly stepped out of his boots and pants. When he kicked them to the side, he grabbed the backs of my thighs and pressed his hard on against me as I wrapped my legs back around him.

“Bed … bed,” I pleaded around his lips, and once again he was walking us toward my room.

We made it the rest of the way without incident, and fell in a mess of searching hands, and tearing clothes onto the bed. My tank was somehow on the floor before I was fully on my back and I reached up to crush our lips together as his hands pulled my sleep shorts off at the same time I reached for the waistband of his dark boxer briefs.

His erection sprang free, and I didn’t even try to continue pulling his briefs down the rest of the way as I took his length in both of my hands. Brody groaned and his head fell to my shoulder as I watched both hands make their way up him. Letting one of my hands leave to edge the waistband down his hips, the other slowly pumped from base to head, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Everything about him was incredible and perfect.

“Babe—I haven’t been with anyone in years, so this already isn’t going to last long; but if you keep doing that it’s gonna be over before it can begin.”

I bit back a smile at his confession and leaned my head back when he started leaving open-mouthed kisses on my neck, and guided him to me. We both stilled for a few seconds, a harsh breath leaving him when he pushed into me; and I wanted to cry in frustration when his body left mine before he was slamming back into me. His name left my lips in a breathless whisper when he began moving inside me, and my fingers curled into his back as his pace quickened.

I could feel the muscles in his back tightening, and the pull in my lower stomach grew as I reached my climax.

“Come on,” his gruff voice whispered in my ear. “Give me one more.”

Bringing his hand between us, he rolled his fingers against my clit and I whimpered incoherent words as the mix of him moving inside me, and his hands on me, sent me over the edge. It felt like my body was suspended in air for long seconds before it came crashing down and Brody’s body shuddered beneath my fingertips as he followed me into his own orgasm.

Brody lazily kissed up my throat until he reached my lips, and I figured out how to release my death grip on his back to pull my hands through his dark hair as I returned the slow kiss.

“God, Kamryn. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of you. Not after that.”

I smiled against his lips, and feeling his hard length still inside me, pushed him back and rolled us over until I was on top of him. He groaned when I moved my hips, his hands flying back to grab them. I’d been afraid he was about to stop me, but his fingers flexed against my skin before pressing me harder against him. Sitting up, I let him lead our movements, and my head fell back from the feel of the new position. This time was slow and controlled as we took our time getting to know each others body, but the heat and passion only seemed to grow.

My body curled over his, and I pressed my forehead into his chest when it was over. Every part of me felt like it was floating, and at the same time, I couldn’t find the strength to move from where I was laying on him.

“Come here,” he said as he pulled his body from mine and wrapped his arms around me.

Pressing a kiss to my lips, he tucked my head under his chin and messed with the comforter until he could pull it over us.

“You’ll stay?” I asked as I pressed closer to him.

“I need you in my arms right now,” he said simply. And just before sleep claimed me, I heard him say, “I’m not going anywhere.”

My body jerked awake, and I stilled as I listened for whatever had woken me. Brody was now behind me with his body curled around mine, and the sound of his soft snores was all that met my ears for a few moments. Closing my eyes, I relaxed into the pillow again when I heard the ringing. Moving from Brody’s arms, I glanced around for my phone, but didn’t see it and remembered I’d left it in the bathroom, and this was coming from outside my room. Grabbing for the pants that were on the floor of my hallway, I searched the pockets until I found Brody’s phone, and my body turned to ice when I saw the screen.

Olivia.

“Brody,” I said as I climbed back on the bed and shook his shoulder. “Brody wake up.”

His eyes shot open and moved quickly to the phone I was holding out to him. “What—”

“Olivia is calling you.”

“Fuck,” he whispered, and pinched the bridge of his nose as he turned to his back. Taking the phone from my hand, he cleared his throat a couple times and answered. “Hello?”

“Where the hell are you? Do you know what time it is?”

I didn’t need to be sitting directly next to him to hear her. I’m positive I would’ve been able to hear her shrill voice if I’d been back in the hall.

Glancing at his phone for a second, his aggravated expression never changed as he brought the phone back to his ear. “Yeah, Liv, I got caught up at work.”

“And you couldn’t call to tell me?”

“You said you’d be staying with your parents if you got back from Washington tonight, I didn’t know it would matter to you if I was late or—shit, Liv. Why … fuck, why are you crying?”

“Well, obviously I’m not at my parents’, Brody! I thought something had happened to you, you know, I’m trying to be a good wife here. And you are hours late and don’t even think to—” she cut off on a sob.

Brody’s hand fell over his face, and his head gently shook back and forth. “All right, I’m sorry. You’re right, I should have called you.”

“Come home, please. Please, come home.”

My body locked up when I heard her desperate plea, and I watched as Brody’s hand moved, and he turned his head to look at me. Even in the dark I could see the war he was fighting as he listened to his wife cry on the phone, and watched my every move.

Olivia said something that was now too low and mumbled for me to hear, but Brody’s expression suddenly looked like he was in pain.

“I’m finishing up a report, I’ll be back soon.” Without waiting for her to respond, he ended the call, and reached out for me, but I stopped his hand.

“Stay. Please.”

His jaw clenched shut, and he shook his head once. From the way his eyes studied my face, as if trying to memorize it, I knew he wouldn’t. Twisting away, I got off the bed. I needed to get away from him before I lost it.

“Kamryn, don’t do this, I’m sorry. But you know I—”

“I know. You have to leave, Brody, it’s fine.” I quickly grabbed at my clothes on the floor and dashed into the bathroom.

“Kamryn!”

Once my clothes were on, I pressed my hands to the marble counter as I bit down on the inside of my cheeks to keep from crying. I’d gone into our relationship knowing we wouldn’t be able to have this—have nights together with nothing standing in the way—but after the night we’d just shared, I’d let myself hope.

Having Olivia call had been like a slap to the face. I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t be this person. But as Brody came up behind me and eased his arms around me to press our bodies together, I knew that for this man … I would. I would go through anything if it meant he was mine in the end.

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly before pressing his lips to the sensitive spot behind my ear. “Please don’t be mad, I couldn’t handle it if you were.”

I kept my eyes trained on my hands gripping the countertop and nodded, not trusting my voice anymore.

“One day … one day we won’t have to do this anymore. I’ll come home to you, and get in our bed and never leave. I swear.”

My vision went blurry and I closed my eyes tightly against the tears.

How was it possible that I was already falling so hard for this man, that the thought of him anywhere but beside me had me feeling like I was drowning and unable to pull in the air my body needed to live? I was quickly becoming addicted to him, and the way he made me feel with the smallest of touches. We were dangerous together, but I knew I couldn’t live without him.

“Forgive me,” he pleaded, and suddenly his body and warmth were gone. And as much as my mind and body screamed at me to follow him, to beg him not to leave, I was rooted in place for long minutes until I heard my door shut, and his car start up in the garage.

Taking shaky steps back until I hit a wall, I slid down until I was seated on the cool floor, and the tears I’d been holding back fell mercilessly as desperate sobs worked their way from my chest.

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SHARING YOU by Molly McAdams

On-sale 7/1/14 | ISBN: 9780062299406

Amazon | B&N | BOOKS A MILLION | INDIE BOUND | BOOKISH

 

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Posted in Guest Reviews

GUEST POST: Number #1 Christmas Book & Film by Emma Louise

Number #1 Christmas Book & Film by Emma Louise

Merry Christmas everyone!

I hope you’re all getting deep into the festive spirit. Our Christmas tree was decorated this week and the presents have just gone under, so it’s made our little home a lot more festive.

Christmas is a great time of year to spend reading books and watching films whilst curled up on the sofa with a nice big cup of hot chocolate.

Zoe kindly asked me to guest post for her blog and I couldn’t say no.

Do come and say hello on Twitter @EmmaLouAuthor and if you’d ever like to guest post on my own blog, www.emmalouauthor.wordpress.com – just give me a shout.

Lots of love,

Emma Louise xx

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just-for-christmas-by-scarlett-baileyJust For Christmas by Scarlett Bailey [2013]

Blurb:

When Alex Munro learns that the love of her life is getting married to another girl, all she wants is to be alone – and as far away from Edinburgh as possible. Moving to a Cornish cottage, which comes complete with the world’s scruffiest dog, Alex finds that her new neighbours are determined to involve her in their madcap Christmas festivities. Then she meets her sexy neighbour Ruan – and somehow Alex doesn’t want to be alone this Christmas after all. But having lost one fiancé, Ruan has no intention of letting anyone get close to him again…

Just For Christmas is without a doubt, my number one Christmas read. Scarlett very kindly sent me a signed Paperback copy in the post which I won in one of her wonderful competitions and it was absolutely incredible. Alex and Ruan are two very loveable characters and the Cornish town is far from quiet. This is a Christmas novel you’ll regret not reading! I’ll be picking it up once again in 2014 when the festive period visits us once more.

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The Santa Clause directed by John Pasquin [1994]The_Santa_Clause

Blurb:

When a man inadvertently kills Santa on Christmas Eve, he finds himself magically recruited to take his place.

The Santa Clause film is by far the best Christmas film in the entire world! Tim Allen who plays Scott Calvin/Santa is one of my favourite actors of all time. He’s witty, charming and of course, he’s Buzz Lightyear! Without fail, I watch this film on Christmas Eve before heading to bed and it really does get me into the festive mood. I wish I could get away with watching it all year round…

Posted in Guest Reviews

Getting Rooted in New Zealand – Jamie Baywood

final book design

It was always my dream to live abroad when I was growing up in California.  I had bad dating experiences in California and read in a New Zealand tour book that the country’s population at 100,000 fewer men than women.  I wanted to have some me time and an adventure. New Zealand seemed like a good place to do so. Although I intended to have a solo adventure I ended up meeting my husband in New Zealand.

I consider myself an accidental author. I didn’t go to New Zealand with the intentions of writing a book about my experiences there. I had funny experiences that I had trouble believing were true. I wrote the stories down to stay sane. I wrote situations down that were happening around me and shared them with friends. The stories made people laugh so I decided to organize the stories into a book and publish in the hopes to make others laugh too.

One of the first people I met was Colin Mathura-Jeffree from New Zealand’s Next Top Model. I had no idea who he was or that he was on TV when I met him. He is friends with my former flatmate. We had a steep staircase that I kept falling down. Colin taught me to walk like a model so I wouldn’t fall down the stairs.

In New Zealand, I had a lot of culture shock.  One of the most memorable moments was learning the meaning of the Kiwi slang word “rooted.” One night I was brushing my teeth with my flatmate and I said, ‘I’m really excited to live in this house because I have been travelling a lot and I just need to settle down, stop traveling and get rooted’. He was choking on his toothbrush and asked me if I knew what that meant because it had a completely different meaning New Zealand than it does in the States.

I had the opportunity to write and perform for Thomas Sainsbury the most prolific playwright in New Zealand. I performed a monologue about my jobs in the Basement Theatre in Auckland.  The funny thing about that experience was Tom kept me separated from the other performers until it was time to perform. I was under the impression that all the performers were foreigners giving their experiences in New Zealand.  All of the other performers were professional actors telling stories that weren’t their own. At first I was mortified, but the audience seemed to enjoy my “performance,” laughing their way through my monologue. After the shows we would go out and mingle with the audience. People would ask me how long I had been acting. I would tell them, “I wasn’t acting; I have to go to work tomorrow and sit next to the girl wearing her dead dog’s collar around her neck.”

I love making people laugh more than anything else. I feel very grateful when readers understand my sense of humor. I plan to divide my books by the countries I’ve lived in. My next book will be about attempting to settle in Scotland.

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About the book Getting Rooted in New Zealand:

Craving change and lacking logic, at 26, Jamie, a cute and quirky Californian, impulsively moves to New Zealand to avoid dating after reading that the country’s population has 100,000 fewer men. In her journal, she captures a hysterically honest look at herself, her past and her new wonderfully weird world filled with curious characters and slapstick situations in unbelievably bizarre jobs. It takes a zany jaunt to the end of the Earth and a serendipitous meeting with a fellow traveler before Jamie learns what it really means to get rooted.

me with red hatAbout the author Jamie Baywood:

Jamie Baywood grew up in Petaluma, California. In 2010, she made the most impulsive decision of her life by moving to New Zealand. Getting Rooted in New Zealand is her first book about her experiences living there. Jamie is now married and living happily ever after in the United Kingdom. She is working on her second book.

Getting Rooted in New Zealand is available in paperback and ebook on Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/dp/1482601907

Jamie Baywood can be followed on the following sites:

Facebook.com/jamiebaywood
Twitter.com/jamiebaywood
Pinterest.com/jamiebaywood
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7069448.Jamie_Baywood
amazon.com/author/jamiebaywood

 

Posted in Guest Reviews

3 Novels You Should Read Now- Olivia Luck

Confession time: remember that girl with her nose buried in a book back in grade school? The one who could be caught reading more than socializing? That was me. Okay, I’m exaggerating a bit – but I’ve loved to read for as long as I can remember. Before I could drive, my mom or brother would take me to the library to borrow books (see: romance novels) every week. It’s been an addiction for a long time, so I consider myself a pseudo-expert in the genre.

Today, Zoe has invited me to share a blog post of my choosing with you lovely readers, and I’ve decided to introduce you to three of my favorite novels from my youth. I’m completely crazy about contemporary writers (myself included, hehe), but these are some of my steadfast re-reads.

 

Linda Howard – Dream Man

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My description: Conservative police officer meets haunted woman with a paranormal gift. Romance blossoms while a dangerous psychopath lurks behind the scenes.

Amazon US
Amazon UK

Deirdre Martin – Body Check

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My description: First book in a series about hunky hockey players and the ladies they love. Need I say more?

Amazon US
Amazon UK

 

Susan Elizabeth Phillips – Kiss an Angel

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My description: Circus plus romance plus laughter equals a recipe for success. One of my all time top reads, you must try this one!

Amazon US
Amazon UK

 

?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????About Olivia Luck

Olivia Luck lives in the middle of America with her loving husband and her overbearing obsession with writing. When she’s not reading, editing, or drafting, you can find her cooking in the kitchen. Her debut novel In Pursuit is coming to an e-reader near you in January 2014.

 

Get in touch with Olivia, she loves messages!

 

Email | Facebook | Twitter | Blog

Posted in Guest Reviews

GUEST POST by Laura Beege

So I asked my very good friend Laura if she would guest post for me this week and of course, she agreed. She wrote about These Things About Us, so here it is…

Hi guys!
When Zoe asked me whether I wanted to do this and tell you how These Things About Us came about, I thought there was nothing for me to tell you. I just sat down and wrote it, right? But then I realized I was lying to myself. Here’s the truth:
Originally, I didn’t want to write These Things About Us.
I only started designing Tony’s character because a friend of mine told me that I kept writing strong, kick-ass female leads and asked why I wouldn’t write a fragile character for once… And – reluctantly – I did. I scrunched my nose and came up with a girl who was vulnerable, who showed great weakness, but I refused to make her weak. I wrote about 20 useless, sucky pages told from her POV just to prove, to my friend but more than that to myself, that I could pull off a fragile character. And damn, I hated it. Because I wasn’t writing something I liked. I was working on an assignment. – Nobody likes doing homework, right?
That was back in January, right after I finished writing a NA college romance.
Long, long before that, Trace had popped into my head. But he didn’t fit into the YA Scifi project I was writing then, and he didn’t fit into that NA college novel. His entire back story, his issues, his secrets were stuck in my head and I just couldn’t give up on him. I wanted to tell his story.
So I kept writing in Tony’s POV in February, having very little (read: no) fun doing so, until one day I figured she might work nicely with Trace, and I wrote the scene of her walking into the bar and Trace hating her at first sight – and I was addicted. There was a story, there were challenges, there was chemistry. And suddenly I liked Tony. With Trace, I could put her in challenging positions. Who he was affected Tony on a level I hadn’t discovered before. And then his little brother popped up and I discovered more and more dimensions to this story.
As you might have guessed by now: I’m a pantser. I don’t plot or plan. And that’s one of the most exciting things to me. Starting a new novel, to me, is like embarking on an adventure and I have no idea what might lurk behind the next corner.
So in the end (and along the way) there’s a lot of revising and rewriting happening. Wanna know a couple of things that have changed between the very first time Tony walked into the Dirty Dungeon and the final version of the book?
Sierra isn’t some blonde Barbie reincarnation anymore. She’s more like the cool, but weird, older sister to Tony.
The title: TTAU’s very first title was “Flightless” but I didn’t like that it was only one word. It then changed to “All These Things About Us” and eventually the “All” was cut off because it simply seemed to long.
Tony is called Antonia. She used to be called Samantha/Sam. (I seriously wanted a unisex nickname.)
And there’s a lot less sexiness going on. I know, I know. I’m sorry for that, guys. I promise to make it up to you somehow, someday. (Maybe in a sequel? Who knows.)
And last but not least: Some major plot points changed and therefore a lot of scenes did, too. Some were tweaked, some added and some deleted.
You’ll be able to read one of those deleted scenes right here on Zoe’s blog tomorrow, along with her review, and there’s gonna be a giveaway! So make sure to come back tomorrow for the official These Things About Us tour stop here at The Book Lovers.
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17701555Synopsis
Antonia is leaving the last shards of her life in Tucson behind to find her mother and start over. Turns out that’s easier said than done. London is a pretty big city, a hundred bucks don’t get you far and you can’t just make your past disappear.
When sweet and caring uni student Wesley gets her a job and a room in his father’s pub, Tony is unprepared for his older brother Trace who despises her at first sight. She’s unprepared for someone whose secrets might be darker than her own.
Following a path of breadcrumbs and tangling up in Trace’s past, Tony slips back into a world she thought she’d escaped the day her father went to prison.

Laura Beege
http://laurabeege.blogspot.com
Twitter: @LauraBeege

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Posted in Guest Reviews

GUEST POST by Emma Louise

Hello to all of Zoe’s readers, I’m sure there are a lot of you. Zoe has kindly asked me to be a guest blogger for today, so I’m here to thrill you with a little bit of information about myself and my own blog before allowing you to read one of my short stories.

My name is Emma and I have two writing degrees under my belt. I’ve been studying at Edge Hill University for the past four years. The first three where spent doing a Bachelor Honours Degree – Creative Writing and Film Studies. I then stayed on to do a Masters Degree in Creative Writing. I’ve absolutely loved my time at Edge Hill, and it’s really sad that it’s now coming to an end.

I’m a romance writer. I enjoy writing about situations that would happen to a lot of people. I’m currently working on my manuscript that will be handed in for my final Masters piece later this year and then I hope that I can one day have it published for the world to see. I already have an idea for the sequel… Eager much? I love writing and reading about relationships. They happen all over the world. They can be formed and broken within a second and it’s refreshing to think of all the different situations that relationships can be placed in.

If anyone is interested in my own blog, please do look at it: www.emmaiswriting.wordpress.com and if you like, you can also follow me on Twitter: EmmaIsWriting

For now, please enjoy my short story…

 Courage

Two months ago, he cheated on me. Five weeks later, I walked away from him and what was left of our relationship. I know you probably think that I’m crazy for not leaving him sooner, but I need you to understand something. It wasn’t easy. Leaving someone who you have loved for four and half years is never going to be easy.

When he told me what he did, I didn’t cry. I just felt numb. His words found it impossible to sink in. A couple of days later, I wrote a list containing reasons why I should no longer be with him. It started off as half a page long, but gradually, it grew as I continued to remain as his girlfriend. The list is currently five pages long…

46. He cheated on you

47. He hasn’t apologised for cheating

48. He dripped ice cream in your new car

49. He never said “I love you”

50. He cheated on you

The list still helps me to deal with what happened. Sometimes I repeat what I’ve already scribbled down to make an imprint of the hurtful reality in my mind. I don’t want to go into details. But as you can imagine, it took the cheating rat a lot of courage to tell me what he did. Let me tell you something, he may look just as good as James Bond in a tux, he may be a good chef, he may be wealthy (no thanks to his father!) and splash out on luxurious holidays for us, but none of that matters. Money can’t fix problems. Once a cheat, always a cheat.

I bet you’re dying to hear about the slapper who he had a one night stand with? Alright then. She’s a slapper, a home wrecker and an idiotic fool. Did I forget to mention that she’s married? I’m not one to gossip or bitch about other women, that’s not who I am. When I was in my teenage years, my mum taught me that bad mouthing other women wasn’t good for the soul and that if I spoke one bad word, karma would soon be up in my face. But this woman, whoever she is, has the right to be slagged off. What she did was wrong. Not only did she hurt me, but she also hurt her husband. That’s even if he knows, poor man.

I know that wasn’t really bad mouthing her but to be quite honest, I’d rather not waste my breath on the low life bitch who ruined my relationship with the one man I’ve ever truly loved. She’s not the person who betrayed me. She’s just the woman who was chosen for a quickie. I really do hope her husband finds out about what she did and that he divorces her ‘it meant nothing!’ sorry ass and takes every single penny away from her. She deserves to be thrown in a gutter and left for the tramps. Slut.

If you’re wondering why I stayed with him, the answer is simple: I wanted us to work. Yes, I know that I should have left the moment he told me he had cheated, but despite everything he did, I still found myself being madly in love with him. Yes, there are some days where I’d love to go running back into his arms, act like all has been forgiven and carry on like normal. But then, there are those days when I want to knock on the front door of his house and smack him in the face with a frying pan. Problem is, I wouldn’t know what to do with a dinted frying pan.

The man I loved cheated on me. Those worthless few moments with a stranger ruined our relationship. Here I am, three weeks later, gluing my life back together.

This is my story.

A week after the news of the cheating scandal broke, he told me to pack a bag for a weekend trip away. He gave me two clues – bring clothes that I’m comfortable wearing in all day and that I won’t need my passport.

“Can you not just tell me where we’re going?” I asked. This had been the second time I’d questioned him. But to my dismay, he still refused to give me an answer.

“Just, trust me on this one. Okay?” We were sat in the living room. He was slouched in his leather arm chair, eating a packet of prawn cocktail crisps whilst watching a documentary on the television. I, on the other hand, was sat up right. I’d been on edge for the past week since he told me of his filthy, disgusting affair.

“Really? You want me, your faithful girlfriend of four and a half years, to trust you, the man who just had a one night stand with some random slapper?” I wasn’t trying to start an argument. He shouldn’t have used the word ‘trust.’

He sat up; his hand was still inside the crisp packet. His blue eyes looked directly at me. He was trying to win me over with his devilishly handsome good looks.

“Babe, I know what I did was wrong, and I don’t blame you for being angry at me. But I’m just trying to fix this mess.”

I began to shake my head. He reached for another crisp out of the packet and shoved it in his mouth like he’d never eaten before. I didn’t respond. A little voice in my head told me to tell him that this was his mess and that he should fix it. But I knew he wouldn’t. So I took the easy option and found myself walking up the stairs, ready to pack for the weekend.

Early the next morning, we were sat in the waiting room of the train station, waiting for the train to take us to god knows where. Out of the kindness of his cold, selfish heart, he had gone to the trouble of picking up my favourite sweets, my favourite soft drink and bought the sequel to the latest book that I had almost finished.

He had booked the tickets online and collected them from a middle aged woman who worked behind the counter. She was chubby, happy looking, with a smile plastered on her face. I couldn’t tell if she was laughing in response to something he had said or she was just being polite. I couldn’t see his face so I moved over to the vacant seat next to me and leaned over to the right as I rested my arm on the cold metal handle. My view became better. raised my eyebrows as she titled her head back and laughed. As she brought her head back to the normal position. Her eyes locked with mine. She was probably clueless that the attractive man stood in front of her had a girlfriend of four and a half years. Dumb bitch.

“I want us to try and enjoy the trip. Okay?” After he had collected the tickets, he took the seat next to me. The woman behind the counter kept herself busy on the computer beside her, trying to avoid eye contact with either of us. “Let’s just forget about that silly little thing that happened and move forward.” He placed his hand on top of mine. He turned his head to the left, and began to admire a bunch of girls who, I’d say, were in their late teens.

I began to mutter under my breath, not wanting to cause a scene in public.

“How do you expect me to forget that you cheated when you’ve just been flirting with the ticket woman and now you’re checking out girls who are younger than you?” I pulled my hand out from underneath his in disgust. “You disgust me.” I turned my head to the right, not wanting to see him drooling over foolish girls.

“Did you say something?” He asked. I looked back at him as he rose from his seat. Had he really not heard me or was he just ignoring what I had said? I didn’t have time to repeat myself. “Come on. We’ll go sit outside and wait for the train there.” He took his bag and my suitcase out of the waiting room and into the warm August air.

As the train pulled up at our destination, I began to recognise the surroundings. We were in Edinburgh, the city where we randomly met. I looked to my left to see his face. He was smiling. Not a fake smile, you know the smile when you can tell someone is happy. He didn’t have the right to be happy, not after what he had done.

The sky was dark. Rain clouds had grouped together, storming up a wild water shower on the people down below. The station was being remodelled, yet it was still open to the public. Train stations just can’t shut down. People have places to go, places where they may meet someone, to change their lives.

“Are you excited?” He nudged my arm as I continued to stare out of the window. The passengers around us began to stand up out of their seats. Some were stood on their tip toes in order to reach for their belongings in the compartment above. We remained seated.

“Edinburgh is a beautiful city,” I was determined not to answer his question as I continued to stare out of the window at the station.

“I thought that we deserved a break away from home, and maybe the city where we met could help us figure out the next step.” The tone in his voice sounded hopeful. I wasn’t sure what would happen between us. I was still in two minds. The worse thing about it all was that he hadn’t apologised. He never apologised. Not for anything. Heartless fool.

The aisle way on the train began to clear. He stood up and reached for my suitcase above. As he placed the suitcase down, in which I had packed extra clothes just in case I decided to make a run for it.

A scarlet red haired middle aged woman brushed past him. She was old enough to be his mother but that didn’t stop her from giving him a good look up and down. I glared at her. My nostrils flared. Everything about her was fake. Her jeans were low cut. Her top showed off her obvious fake breasts. Her fake eyelashes were bigger than her eyes; her lips looked like they had been coated in lipstick for most of her life and her face was a different colour to the rest of her body. Mutton dressed as lamb.

To my shock, he didn’t look at her. He moved a little bit forward and then once she had walked past, he stepped backwards, to retrieve his bag. Perhaps he really did want to change our relationship, but not looking at one other woman wouldn’t make me forgive him. The problem was still there, in his pants.

I saw him step off the train and look behind for me. I was still sat in my seat. He looked at the window and gestured his hand to me that I ought to get a move on. I didn’t want to move. I wanted the train doors to slam shut and take me somewhere, anywhere. But they didn’t, so I forced myself to depart from the train.

It was mildly bitter outside. Weather I did not expect for the middle of August. The train station was busy. People were coming in and out of the historical city. As much as I wanted our relationship to work, I was tired. Tired of being the one who always said sorry, the one who always broke the awkward silences after an argument. I was tired of being tired.

As we walked towards the exit of the train station, the familiarity of the city was breath taking. It was the city where I had met the man who I thought I would spend the rest of my life with, have children with and eventually, grow old with. It was also the first city I had travelled and explored by myself. I was twenty at the time. Single, and ready to find myself. I found myself after a couple of days, along with a new boyfriend.

“So what do you want to do? Get settled in the hotel and then get our bearings?” He asked as we made our way up the slope and out of Waverly station. The city was just how I remember it, a little different though. Princess Street was still home to all the high street shops, the castle was still the perfect spot to see the sights for miles on a clear day and the bagpipes were ringing in everyone’s ears. The only difference was the road. Well, there wasn’t a road. It was an empty space in the ground, surrounded by miniature hills of rubble and gravel, with builders pondering over what their next move should be.

Tourists began to stop and stare, just like I had done.  He had carried on walking, oblivious as to where I was. I continued to stare at the empty road. The builders had started to dig, the noise and vibration carried under my feet. He continued to dig. Deeper and deeper. He wouldn’t be able to fix the mess. He hit something. A ‘cling’ noise sprang in my ears. He’d hit a pipe. He turned the mini digger off but remained in his seat. He waited for the pipe to burst. He hadn’t hit it hard enough. The pipe was calm. The water remained inside of its home, not wanting to disturb normality. The builder switched the digger on and continued on with the work. He hadn’t aggravated the pipe enough.

“What are you doing?” He had approached my side. I thought he would have continued to walk, leaving me to fend for myself in the city. But no, he came back for me. I didn’t want him to come back to me. My suitcase was wedged between us. The tourists left and carried on with their day, full of sightseeing. I watched them leave. I wished I could join them. Pretend like I was a care free person. But I wasn’t. A dark cloud was over my head.

“Do you love me?” I asked him. He had never said it. Not once. Hard to believe, isn’t it? I looked at him. He looked to his left and then looked up at the murky grey sky.

“Course I do.” If there was one thing I knew, I knew that he was a bad liar. “Can we go to the hotel?” He starred into my eyes. I nodded before I grabbed hold of my suitcase handle. It was mine. I needed it.

I looked behind me. A fresh bunch of passengers had just arrived off another train and were making their way towards us. He began to make his way in the same direction, to the top of Princess Street. I knew that he had booked us in at a Travel Lodge. He hadn’t wanted to spend that much money. It wasn’t his money. It was his fathers. Little rich boy was still living off daddy. He didn’t know that I knew. He didn’t know that his own mother had told me to leave. I told her what he did. How he cheated on me with that filthy slut of a girl. His own mother had my back. That said it all.

He was a fair distance away from me now, but I could still see him. He walked with confidence, too much if you ask me. I took a deep breath and turned around. I began to walk towards the train station. I didn’t look back. I was going home. Not his home, mine. I wanted to be free. For so long, my mind had been a mess. Not knowing what I wanted. But now I knew. Freedom is what I had searched for. Not a perfect boyfriend. Not a perfect relationship. His lie was the straw that finally broke the camel’s back.

Here I am, three weeks later, finding myself after being lost. I can’t seem to pull myself together. You want to know the worst thing of it all? He hasn’t called my phone. He hasn’t come to my flat. He hasn’t pack up my belongings and send them over with a messenger. But you know what? I knew he wouldn’t. He’s probably too busy rolling in his dad’s money.

I’m not going to lie to you, it is hard. Walking away from someone you’ve loved and cared for is one of the worst experiences. Every now and then, I catch a whiff of his after shave on my clothes. My heart plummets to the bottom of my stomach, aching to be held by him again. But then, I remember what he did and even though I miss him deeply, I could never put myself in that position again. Especially not with him.

Soon enough, you stop thinking about them. You stop wondering whether they’re going to call, whether they’ve moved on or whether they still talk about you to mutual friends. It’s about time to start thinking of what’s best for yourself. After all, why should we waste our time with someone when they wouldn’t give us the time of day?