Who said this publishing journey would be easy? (No one) Any posts by the published authors – traditional or Indie – will say the same thing. The writing is the easy part. The revising is the easy part. But dealing with the hard work of a small business and the ups and downs is emotionally hard.
There are so many things to make us cry like disappointing sales or screwed-up formatting or not enough chocolate chip cookies. Before that it was query letters and submission processes. Some days it’s not a problem and other days because of other pressures of life the smallest thing will set us off. It’s okay. Breathe deep, make some hot cocoa and put disappointments in perspective.
There are many things to make us smile and laugh too like good sales, pride of our own work, seeing friends’ success, and beyond writing and publishing, our family and friends. (That perspective thing again.)
Have a great Thanksgiving to my American friends! Here are some books and new releases for you to enjoy!
Lies can be deadly.
DANGEROUS DEPTHS, book 2 of The Sea Monster Memoirs
Regret is a formidable foe.
Here’s a scene from A SPY LIKE ME. The first book in the Circle of Spies Series.
“Great. I’ve got people trying to kill—”
He pulled me to him and his mouth covered mine. I fought back at first but he wouldn’t let go and my defenses crumbled. Heat washed over me as his kiss deepened. His body pressed into mine. I stifled a tiny groan of pain and pleasure. The vodka had pretty much numbed any feeling in my leg. His kiss deepened again, and it was better than eating a triple peanut butter chocolate ice cream cone in Pennsylvania or skinny-dipping in the creek when it reached 100 degrees.
His kiss softened. He was gentle and loving, like he cared. His hand grazed my cheek. His past, my past, our families all faded. It was just me and him. Malcolm and Savvy. Two teens.
My heart broke a little bit. I don’t even know why. Maybe because I could add one more person to the list of people I cared about who would betray me and leave me. One more person I cared about more than they did me.
His hands slid down my back to the hem of my shirt. In one suave lift, my shirt was off.
My hands roamed across his chest, exploring. He tenderly ran his fingers down my arm, and I shivered.
He whispered in my ear, “God help me, you’re beautiful. Even with frosting in your hair.”
The words sank in and something broke. The cracks in my heart that I’d plastered and put Band-aids on tore open. Emotion flooded out and filled every inch of my body. My face was wet with tears.
He pulled away and kissed them. “In my line of work, you can’t care about anyone too much. It can get you killed.”
“That’s good, because I don’t care about you. The tears are purely a post-traumatic side effect of getting shot.”
At least I was pretty sure my life wouldn’t end tonight.
Thanks for stopping by and reading! Check out all the INDIE-kissing posts!