Monday, August 26, 2019

Out now , delicious #eroticromance #short Read a #teaser @elodieparkes #romance


Delicious, new release erotic short
The Only Way to Dance
Chrissie wins an interview with a prestigious advertising agency. Fate conspires to make the day difficult. The only bright spot is her meeting with gorgeous Dylan Cross, but who is he, and will their steamy attraction to each other prevent her from having the job she covets?

N.B. This story was previously published as part of Executive Assistant, an anthology of erotic romance from Evernight Publishing. 
Available on kindleunlimited

Read a teaser 18+


She looked sexy, pale, a little disheveled, but so pretty.

He kissed her. Chrissie responded with a kiss that sent tingles to his balls and tightened his stomach. Dylan traced the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue. When she opened her mouth and her tongue met his, the rush of desire that went straight down his body hardened his cock. He explored her mouth and tongue with his. Each touch made his cock jerk and grow until he felt the tip against the waistband of his shorts.

“You know, if this was a movie we’d have sex and the time would fly by, then we’d be saved.” He kissed her between phrases, wondering what she would do if he unzipped her skirt and the shell top she wore so that he could knead her breasts and push his fingertips against her pussy. The thought brought a low groan to his throat and a pearl of moisture leaked from his cock.

“If this was a movie, you’d lift me up to the trap door in the roof of the elevator and I’d climb out and escape.” She smiled at him.

“I’ll lift you up there, you can check if you want, but I have no idea where you might escape to. That’s never been clear in the movies.” He bent and picked her up under the thighs. It was easy. She was slender and small. Dylan experienced a moment of complete lust when he realized he’d brought her pussy against his face. Even clad in her skirt he could feel the shape of her mound against his cheek as he turned his face a little. He nearly stumbled when he took the step to the center of the floor from the raw need she ignited in him. He pictured sucking her clit, licking her pussy, kissing down the insides of her thighs.

Chrissie laughed and vibrations from her ass on his forearms went straight down into his stomach in waves of desire. He closed his eyes as he moved his face and nestled into her. Her skirt rode up. He bent his head to push his face up under her skirt.

She put her hands on his shoulders. “The trap door won’t move. Dylan, let me down.”
Surrounded by the scent of her skin and the feel of her thighs through the pantyhose she wore, Dylan forced himself to put her down.
She slid down the front of his body, her skirt going up around her waist.

He pulled her against his hips, his hands cupping her ass. He kissed her hard as he lifted her to grind his hard cock against her. “Chrissie.” His whisper sounded like a plea, even to his ears.

She surged up against his body, pushing against him, to return his kiss.

“Yes,” she whispered against his lips.



Copyright Elodie Parkes, 2019
BUY the book at .99 cents or read for free with Kindle Unlimited

Sunday, August 25, 2019

Owen has only one wish left. And this time, he wants to ensure it doesn’t come with nightmare side effects like his first two did. @JewelQuinlan #audiobook #release #PNR


Owen has only one wish left. And this time, he wants to ensure it doesn’t come with nightmare side effects like his first two did. Unfortunately, Cleo, the scornful genie granting his desires, isn’t willing help. With the wish deadline fast approaching, Owen must find a way to gain Cleo’s assistance, or he’ll be stuck forever in a tangle of his own making.


Audiobook Details:
Listening Time: 1 hour 18 minutes
Narrated by: Jack Calihan

Listen to a sample:



Where to buy the audiobook:
 
Want the ebook instead?

Or add it to your shelf on Goodreads

Excerpt
   “…Maybe if you’d executed my first two wishes better I wouldn’t be so strung out.” Wrong thing to say. If I could have punched myself, I would have.
Cleo stiffened, eyes wide. And then they narrowed, and I could almost see the millions of ways she was killing me in her mind right now. I braced myself for a barrage of scorn mixed with profanity. If there was one thing I’d learned about Cleo in the past couple of months, it was that she had an extensive vocabulary of swear words. Not only was her range impressive, it was also interestingly exotic. I was well acquainted with it because it’d been directed at me on the frequent occasions I managed to get her to come out of the pill box. I’d thought I’d heard it all at this point in my life, but she proved me wrong. And somehow, whenever she directed her skill at me, I couldn’t help but feel that every term she used was eminently fitting.
“I’m so sorry you’re dissatisfied with your first two wishes, Master,” she drawled in an uncharacteristically chilly tone that made me shiver. “I shall return to my vessel and spend my time reflecting on how to do better with your third wish.” She turned and moved away from the door.
Fuck. The lack of profanity made me panic. I leapt up the stairs in one bound and grabbed her arm in desperation. If she evaporated back into the box, I’d have a hell of a time getting her to come out again. “Cleo, I’m sorry. Don’t go. I’m an asshole, okay? A dick. I’m—I’m every foul word you’ve called me since we met.”
The skin of her arm was soft beneath my fingers, but the biceps was firm. Did she work out? Would a genie even need to, being able to shapeshift and all? There was a small strange golden tattoo on her arm. I watched, fascinated, as it shifted from a crescent moon, to some intricate round design that reminded me of snowflakes, and then into a symbol of some kind. This close, her scent was warm in my nostrils. It was a mix of jasmine, incense, and something spicy that I had yet to identify. The intoxicating medley had visited me in my dreams more than once.
“Take … your hand … off me.”
The words were spoken slowly and in a deadly acid that had me snatching my hand back as though I’d touched a hot exhaust pipe. She glared up at me and twitched her arm as if to dislodge any germs I’d left on her creamy skin.
“Sorry. So sorry,” I said, my words coming out light and breathy as though I might set off a bomb. I took a half step back from her, lifting my hands in front of me in that universal I’m-not-armed gesture. “Please don’t go,” I pleaded. “I really need your help. Please.”
There were less than three days left for me to make my third wish, and I was desperate not to fuck it up.  I’d made the first two rather quickly, and they hadn’t turned out exactly as I’d hoped. Well, no, I can’t say that. I’d gotten exactly what I’d wished for. I was now ridiculously wealthy and famous. The problem was that both of those things had come with a lot of problems, like fleeing from people who were trying to kill me for reasons I had yet to determine. And I really didn’t want to spend the rest of my life using my new, magically-granted resources running, hiding, and generally having to look over my shoulder for the rest of my days. Of course, I could always wish to undo the first two wishes. But who in their right mind would do that? I ran a hand through my hair, and pleaded with her with my eyes.
Cleo made a scoffing noise and raked a critical gaze from my black biker boots, over my favorite well-worn jeans and grey t-shirt, and finally to my face, which no doubt looked more haggard than ever from worry and an overgrown five o’clock shadow. “And why should I help you? Out of the goodness of my heart?”
I scrambled to think of something to say, but my mind was blank. I was a mere human. And before she’d come into my life, I was only doing a passable job at being that. There was nothing I could give her that she couldn’t give herself, not even freedom.
“I can’t think of anything,” I said, feeling deflated. “But maybe you can.” It was a shot in the dark, but worth it. There was a faint glimmer in her caramel-colored eyes that signaled I was on the right track. Inspired, I pushed forward, desperate. “Is there something?”
She relaxed her stance, making hope soar within me. Then she dropped her gaze to the floor as if—No. Could it be?—as if she was reluctant to say it. I closed the gap between us again, feeling bolder, but I didn’t touch her. “Tell me,” I urged in a low voice, fascinated. “I want to know. No, I have to know. What I could possibly give you that you would want?”

Jewel is giving away 25 Audible Codes for a FREE download of The Third Wish

Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway from 8/21/19 through 9/21/19

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/012af9933/?

  About the Author: 
 Jewel Quinlan is a bestselling paranormal and contemporary romance author. Since her debut in late 2013, she has published sixteen stories and has many more to come. Restless by nature, she is an avid traveler and has visited sixteen countries so far. Lover of ice cream, dark beer, and red wine, she tries to stay fit when she’s not typing madly on her computer drafting another romance novel. In her spare time, she likes to do yoga, hike, learn German, and play with her spoiled Chihuahua, Penny.
For more information about Jewel Quinlan
Or join Jewel’s monthly newsletter to receive updates on
new releases, read exclusive excerpts, and enter to win giveaways.

Thursday, August 22, 2019

Being tossed into a dumpster and left to die wasn’t at the top of my list, but Renegade found me. #MCromance #coverreveal @changelingpress @HarleyW_Writer #biker #romance

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Publisher: Changeling Press Cover Artist: Bryan Keller Release Date: September 2019

My past taught me family means pain. I don’t want one, other than my club. But fate has other plans.

Darby: 
At fifteen, I thought I knew everything. Having been in foster care all my life, not much scared me. I’d already faced monsters parading around as upstanding citizens. But life hadn’t prepared me for a biker who would lure me in, kidnap me, and abuse me for five years. I got Fawn out of it, my precious girl, and a lot of bad memories. Being tossed into a dumpster and left to die wasn’t at the top of my list, but Renegade found me. I’ve never had a man be kind to me or my daughter before -- especially not a biker -- and I’m not sure what to think. I want to trust him, but I don’t want to give him my heart only to have him turn out like every other man I’ve ever known. It would break me.

Renegade: 
I lost my family a long time ago, and I vowed I’d never have another. I still have Nikki, my baby sis, and that’s enough. My club is a family, but that’s different. I trust them, and in my own way I love them, but it’s not the same as having a wife and kids. I’ll never go down that path. Then I found Fawn and her mother, Darby, thrown away like unwanted trash. Yeah, Fate’s laughing her ass off right now. They’re in my home, and slowly worming their way under my skin. Hearing their story is enough to make my blood boil and send rage flooding through me. I’ll exact revenge for all they’ve suffered, and then they’ll truly be free, able to move on without fear of being taken again. Except… I might not want to let them go.

WARNING: This story contains violence, bad language, and really hot sex. While there are abuse themes, nothing is told in great detail.

ADD TO GOODREADS

Coming to Changeling Press on September 6th and online retailers September 13th
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ABOUT HARLEY WYLDE...

International Best Selling Author!
Short. Erotic. Sweet. Harley's other half would probably say those words describe her, but they also describe her books. When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can't deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you've come to the right place.
Harley's Website | Find her on Facebook | Follow her on Twitter | Harley on Amazon
RenegadePromoGraphic2

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

It was a beautiful night in early August; the sky was an ebony sheet that stretched across the horizon in somber silence. #scifi #mystery #booktour stop



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Science Fiction, mystery, fantasy
Date Published: February 6, 2018
Publisher: Chattercreek


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The mystery that unfolds on a dark, eerie back road in upstate New York sends Nick Dowling on a frantic quest to understand his past. What he discovers about himself slowly drives him toward madness. Where does the truth unfold, in mystery or in the dream? Is truth the illusion he can't embrace? Just who is Nick Dowling?










Read an excerpt

Read an Excerpt
It was a beautiful night in early August; the sky was an ebony sheet that stretched across the horizon in somber silence. The moon was so full it appeared fat―as if it had swallowed every star in heaven and glowed purely from the pleasure of consumption. Nick Dowling gazed up at the sky through the windshield of his new Jeep Cherokee. His wife, Jenna, had just sent him out for a quart of milk. He was pleased to go, happy to be driving out under the stars on the back roads of New Kingston. Except on this particular night, there were no stars―just the moon, contently serene as it trailed his car like a wayward balloon.
Nick tapped his hands on the steering wheel and started singing along with the radio. "Goodbye Miss American Pie" he sang out. The old nostalgic lyrics filled the evening stillness, mingling with the crickets' song, and the hooting of the owls.
Nick was pleased: clear reception was not always a reliable luxury in the Catskill Mountains of Upstate New York. The road ahead was empty. His beams were high and his speed, slow. The last thing he needed was a startled deer to show up in his headlights. The time off was exhilarating: there were so many things he could get to, like fixing the lawn mower and painting the shed. This was the first of several long weekends he and Jenna were able to steal since they bought their second home in the mountains. He often had to work weekends to get his job done, a job he found boring and unsatisfying, not like doing something creative, but an executive's salary was nothing to scoff at. At least his saved-up vacation days provided a perfect opportunity to hit the highway, leaving Manhattan's sweltering concrete behind.
The music changed abruptly, the scratchy sound it made reminded him of an old phonograph needle skipping over a record. Billy Joel's "She's Got A Way About Her" came through the speakers with only a slight static sound, like cackle. This was the first song
Nick heard after waking up in a beat-up hotel room so many years ago, dead broke. All he owned back then was a pair of jeans and a rusty Gillette.
"I don't know what it is," he sang out, just as his headlights illuminated a barely visible road on his left―almost entirely hidden by trees.
"Looks familiar," he said aloud, smiling, as if someone sat beside him who might have agreed.
"I know that road," he whispered. He hunched over the steering wheel and slowed down for a better look. The road was mysteriously beautiful, framed as it was by pine trees that swayed ever so gently in the summer evening air. The impulse hit him like a spray of cold water, and he braked.
"Oh, what the hell," he said as he backed the jeep up. This impulsive action was very unusual for Nick who usually thought things through a thousand times before he did them. But on this particular evening, he barely gave it a thought before he took a sharp left onto the road. Perhaps there was something about the moon that night, close enough to touch, a flirtation he could not refuse.
"Have I lost my mind?" He laughed, looking around, seeing not much of anything that warranted fascination.
The road was narrow and dark, but he had just enough light from the moonlit sky to read the barely visible road sign: Fox Hollow.
Nick switched off the radio; he'd lost the clear station right after he made the turn, and the static was irritating. Slowly, he drove up the bumpy road. The night seemed wrapped in mesh, opaque and colorless. He accelerated his speed just a bit, attempting to see beyond his headlights, but there was nothing before him but the adumbration of trees: it seemed like hundreds of them were standing tall against the sky, bending and tipping their branches into the quiet swirl of the evening wind like visions between this world and the next.
The moon hovered at the end of his sightline like a big mysterious white ball, descending into the Earth, as if being swallowed. But the edges of the night were dull. Everything around him looked like a poorly developed print. Nick rubbed his eyes and watched as night's illusionary mist played havoc with his imagination and shadow monsters came out of the darkness, as tall as giants.
Something flashed through Nick's mind with a fervent intensity. Was there magic on this road? Suddenly, he had a childhood memory. It came out of nowhere: a boy fearing dragons in the night and dreaming of mythical sword fights in mystic forests with a moon as elusive as this one. Was he that boy? His memories of childhood didn't exist; his early life was a void. Yet there it was: a vision of sword fighting with a friend so small and light― Sir Lancelot in dungarees with his mother's pot for a shield.
Nick felt a sudden chill. Leaning in to switch off the air conditioning, a flash of light appeared on his hand, swiftly expanding, trapping his body in its glow, a blaze of cold and paralyzing illumination. His body froze. He held his breath. In moments, the light was everywhere, consuming the darkness as if from a hundred headlights.
"What the hell is going on?" Nick came out of his stupor and looked around frantically. It was getting increasingly colder, as cold as the dead of winter in Upstate New York can get. He started to shiver. But the night air had been warm. What the hell was happening? He could feel his heart pounding; it felt as if he were sitting inside a freezer.
His bones began to rattle as he looked through one eye. The light was still there, ubiquitous, the brightness: blinding. Fear settled on his chest as if he were in the line of unexpected gunfire. He closed his eyes again.
"I am victim to my own vivid imagination," he said, staring once again into the opaque night.
The lights suddenly disappeared, as if they'd been chewed and discarded by the darkness.
"Kids with flashlights, must be...what else?" But the cold? Strange weather condition? Well, maybe...in the mountains.
Nick sat quietly, even patiently, until his fear passed, until it flowed out of his body, until his heart beat normally once again. When he felt calm enough, he stared back into the shadows and surveyed the space around him. He realized he had bitten his lip: he tasted blood.
He lowered his window halfway to make sure the lights were really gone. He was relieved to see everything appeared normal in the evening's shadow. The air was warm on his skin. Once again, the moon bounced naturally in the sky, throwing a path of light before him, like a megalithic corridor inviting entry.
He accelerated slowly. The moonlight faded back behind the trees, and the night became as dark as black ink. He nervously listened to the rocks and branches crunching beneath the wheels of his jeep wondering if he'd lost the road and was driving further into the woods.
Nick couldn't see anything but his headlights. But then, sudden as lightning's flash, as if he'd willed it, the night was lit by the welcomed sudden reappearance of the moon.
"Where you been hiding?"Needing a sense of direction, he stopped the jeep. The moon was fuller than he had ever seen it, but there were no stars out to guide him, just some shadowy image in the sky.
What the hell am I doing in the middle of nowhere playing tag with the goddamn moon?
There was a threatening hush, a silence too barren to trust. The owls had ceased to hoot, and the crickets were far too silent.
Without warning, the stillness shattered into a million pieces by a sound that shook his body from inside out. "Shit!" Nick cried, feeling his heart pounding against his chest. "What the hell was that?"
Like a drill in concrete, the sound was deafening. It was so intensely shrill it might have been heard on the other side of the globe. But then the intense sound vanished, disappeared as contiguously as a passing thought, back into the night. Had he imagined it? Nick brought his hands up to his face. They were still shaking badly. No, this was not imagination. The suddenness of that awful sound jostled him so badly his heart beats were on overtime, and his favorite t-shirt was soaked in sweat.
He'd been on this road before. He'd seen the road in his nightmares. He dreamed he was here.
Right after Nick and his wife, Jenna, closed on their weekend getaway in New Kingston, their retreat from Manhattan's urgent and colossal perplexities, Nick's nightmares accelerated. It was absurd to have them―monster nightmares belonged to children, not to men in their late forties. "I feel foolish to have so many of my dreams invaded by macabre caricatures," he told Jenna. "An odd thing for a grown man to have―nightmares," he'd said reluctantly.
"Not altogether unusual," Jenna responded as she listened to his tentative explanations. "Maybe something is triggering some old and unresolved issues you have with your mother...or father."
Nick scowled at that, wondering how he'd ever get out of seeing a shrink. It was absurd to think he needed one. Jenna insisted on blaming everything on his parents. But how could he blame anyone he didn't remember?
He accelerated over the stones and the broken branches of trees, hoping all the crap on the road wasn't scratching the paint off the jeep's body, or putting any frigging dents on his car. He felt too uneasy to slow down and check out the damage. Wanting to feel sane once more had become a prerogative. This introduction to Fox Hollow Road antagonized his sense of reality and left him surprisingly disentangled from his perspective on who the hell he was or believed himself to be.
He looked up toward the sky. He felt as if he'd just driven in a circle; the shadowy cloud was still above him and it appeared to cover the entire sky.
He drove forward, afraid that if he didn't he'd wind up in a ditch―lost forever in the goddamn woods. His heart was still getting a workout and his mouth felt like an old hot towel. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to reach civilization and grab a shot of whiskey.
"I've had enough of this nerve-wracking adventure," he said, his eyes riveted ahead.


About the Author

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Olivia Hardy Ray is the pen name for Vera Jane Cook, who is the author of Dancing Backward in Paradise, 2007 winner of the Indie Excellence Award for notable new fiction and an Eric Hoffer Award for publishing excellence, also in 2007. Dancing Backward in Paradise received a 5 Star Review from ForeWord Clarion. The Story of Sassy Sweetwater was a finalist for the ForeWord Clarion Book of the Year Award and the recipient of a five star review from ForeWord Clarion. Where the Wildflowers Grow was her third southern fiction novel and is receiving 5 star reviews from Amazon.com. Her latest southern fiction novel just released is Pleasant Day. Her woman’s fiction novel is Lies a River Deep and the soon to be released ‘Kismet’. Under her pen name she is also the author of Annabel Horton, Lost Witch of Salem, and Pharaoh's Star. The sequel to Annabel Horton, Lost Witch of Salem is Annabel Horton and the Black Witch of Pau. That novel will be released this summer. Jane, as she is called by friends and family, writes in the genres she loves: southern fiction, women's fiction, mystery and fantasy paranormal fiction. She lives on the Upper West Side of Manhattan with her spouse, her Basenji/Chihuahua mix, Roxie, her Dachshund, Karly, her Chihuahua, Peanut, and her two pussycats, Sassy and Sweetie Pie.


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Sunday, August 4, 2019

Nothing forbidden, nothing held back #newrelease #eroticromance @tinadonahue @evernightpub #romance Read a teaser

Indulge Me, book one in my brand new series Wanna Be Bad, is out! Woot!

This is Lissa's story. She's a nerd who prefers reading to cutting loose. But when she has a chance at her travel magazine to visit and review a posh Caribbean resort, she takes it. Trouble is, her stay is during the anything goes week, where threesomes look tame and nudity is more or less required. Color her surprised and daunted.

Jon too. He owns the resort and worries the randy male guests will eat her alive and he'll get a lousy review. His only choice? To serve as her sexual guide during her stay.

Let the complications and romance begin...


BLURB:

Nothing forbidden…nothing held back.

Lissa prefers reading to cutting loose, but is willing to do whatever it takes to get the juiciest assignments for her job at a major travel magazine. Her chance finally arrives. She’s set to experience a posh Caribbean resort, a dream article and review except for one huge problem. It’s the anything goes theme week where nudity is expected and lusty hook-ups make threesomes look downright tame. Holy Hell. What has she gotten herself into?

Precisely what resort owner Jon Thorne thinks. Tall, dark, and luscious, he fears the randy male guests will eat her alive, resulting in a lousy review. His only option is to serve as her guide for every decadent delight from nude body painting to Dom’s Den where submission and punishment rule. Unless she wants to call the whole thing off…

And lose her chance with him, plus give up this gig? Dream on. Tempted beyond anything she’s known, she matches his passion and then some, surprising him during a sexy adventure like no other. 



Excerpt:

“The writer from the travel magazine is here.”

“Send him in.”

“Ah … okay.”

Her hesitation surprised him.

His door opened.

Shelby entered first, model tall and slender, dressed in a light green sheath that complemented her long, blonde hair. Her pretty face could have graced a teen magazine, the faint freckles splashed across her nose and cheeks adding to her youthful appearance.

She stepped aside.

A young woman stood behind her, her hair shoulder-length and partially pulled back. Several tresses hung free from her ponytail. The chestnut color proved rich, a contradiction to her pale complexion.

While her clothing…

Her loose-fitting beige pants and long-sleeved white top weren’t on par with the “anything goes” theme week, but the extensive material didn’t completely hide her curves.

He dragged his gaze back up to her glasses. They gave her an intelligent and serious vibe that also didn’t belong on this island.

She regarded the tan marble and gold trimming in here, graceful eyebrows arching.

The opulence was more than he preferred but impressed the partners. Confused as to why she’d followed Shelby inside, he glanced at her and mouthed, “who is she?”

She mouthed, “The writer.”

No way. He’d expected a guy. In fact, he needed an uber-extroverted one for a great review during the anything goes week, which got down and dirty fast. Not a woman who dressed like a librarian attending a spiritual retreat.

As a rule, he never judged. Taking a second look, he was surprised to find her pretty, her brown or hazel eyes and pouty mouth holding promise as to the possible fire smoldering inside. Possible being the operative word. She hadn’t breezed into here confident and ready for sin. Not a good sign for her enjoying the intimate events at the resort.

Shelby cleared her throat. “Lissa, this is Jon Thorne, the owner. Jon, this is Lissa Nelms, the writer from Exploration magazine.”

Lissa regarded the plush leather chairs, sofa, and his massive desk, then met his gaze.

Her cheeks pinked up, as they hadn’t earlier, lips parting, surprise or wonder flooding her features.

He wasn’t certain why her reaction to him was so intense … except it looked genuine. Maybe. Ever since Mackenzie had put one over on him, after the years they’d spent together, he couldn’t be sure about anything. Remembering his manners, he stood.

After taking him in from top to bottom, Lissa returned to his mouth, then his eyes. “Good afternoon.”

Her voice was surprisingly throaty. Sexy as hell.

His face and chest heated, a first during a business meeting or with any woman. Even those who’d been attracted to him hadn’t shown the same awe she did. Flattering, sure, but still… “Hi.” He rounded his desk and offered his hand.

She gripped it firmly, her fingers softer than a rose petal, her fragrance subtly sweet, gold flecks in her hazel eyes.

Nice. He stroked her thumb.

Her face flamed.

Time to stop touching her.




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Saturday, August 3, 2019

Stop feeling invisible and start attracting the attention you deserve. #writer #writing #motivational new release from Colleen M. Story

Non-fiction
Publisher: Midchannel Press
Date Published: March 20, 2019

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Stop feeling invisible and start attracting the attention you deserve.

Have you been writing for years, but feel like no one notices? Have you published your stories, only to gain a handful of readers? Do your marketing efforts feel like shouting into a void?

Veteran writer and motivational coach Colleen M. Story helps you break the spell of invisibility to reveal the author platform that will finally draw readers your way.

There are more books out there than ever before, and readers have many other things vying for their attention. A writer can feel like a needle in a haystack, and throwing money at the problem rarely helps. What does work is creating a platform that stands out, but in a sea of a million platforms, how is one to do that?

Writer Get Noticed! takes a new approach, dispelling the notion that fixing your writing flaws and expanding your social media reach will get you the readers you deserve. Instead, discover a myriad of strengths you didn’t know you had, then use them to find your author theme, power up your platform, and create a new author business blueprint, all while gaining insight into what sets you apart as a writer and creative artist.

Writers need readers to achieve their highest potential. Find your way to stand out, and let it lead you to the writing career that fulfills all your expectations and more.



In this motivational and inspiring book, you’ll learn:


  • Why improving your writing skills isn’t enough.
  • Why it’s critical you discover your strengths...and how to do so.
  • What’s stopping you from finding the readers who love your work.
  • What you really want from writing and why that matters.
  • Easy methods to help you build a more successful author platform.
  • What truly motivates you and how to use that to succeed.
  • The author theme that unites your creative work and fits your style.
  • How imposter syndrome can stall your progress, and how to overcome it.
  • How to make better decisions about your writing career as a whole.

When you find the treasure that’s been inside you all along, don’t be surprised if it opens new doors you never thought possible. 

Read a teaser
Most  writers, when they first start  out, think of only one thing:
writing a bestselling  book.
Its what I thought about. When the writing bug first bit me, I dreamed of seeing my book in bookstores. I imagined what the cover might look like and how the weight of the paper would feel in my hands. I longed for validation from a publisher  and positive feedback from readers. These thoughts sustained me through  years of trial and error  as I learned how to write a publishable story.
I didnt realize back then that my dreams were far too limited. I
was a victim  of small thinking.
Like most beginning writers, I was locked  into  a youthful mindset similar to the way students are at the end of their high school years. Looking out on their future, they may think, Im going to be a doctor
an architect a teacher an astronaut. But most arent really sure what theyre going to end up doing, especially at that young age. They cant be. They dont understand the world and the wide array of possibilities that exist within  it. They dont understand themselves, and all the many gifts they have to explore.
New writers are the same. We strike out with some vague idea of
what our future is going to look like: Im going to be a writer. Im going to publish a bestseller.
It sounds good, and for a while it may work if it keeps you writing. Heck, it may even be enough to get you that publishing contract you want, that self-publishing  business you’ve dreamed of, or even that bestseller, and youll go on happy as a clam.
For many of you, however—I  suspect, most of you reading this book—youre going to experience a number  of setbacks and disap- pointments along the way, and that dream is going  to wear thin. Eventually, you may wind up in a place where you feel discouraged, fatigued, and confused. Was this the future you had in mind?
Maybe you’ve been writing  for years and you still havent gotten that publishing contract you wanted. Maybe you did publish, but your book didnt sell well, and you struggled to keep going. Maybe you self-published,  but found the earnings  werent  what youd hoped, and you started to wonder if this writing thing was for you after all. Maybe you blogged for years and  your readership barely increased. Maybe you tried marketing tactic after marketing tactic with few results.
Whatever your story—and  we all have one—if  you’ve come to this point feeling less than fulfilled, this book is for you.
This is the book you should have had way back when you first thought  about being a writer—when  you thought you understood what that meant. Write a  book. Publish  it. Find readers.  Make money. Be happy.
But thats small thinking. Thats high school thinking. Its time to move beyond that to a place where you can find true fulfillment in your writing career. That place is out there. You just havent found it
yet, and even more importantly, in your search for it, you’ve probably been going the wrong direction.
How do I know? Ive traveled that journey. Ive wasted precious years with small thinking that kept my creative wings tied behind my back. I worked hard, and I was stubborn  enough to keep going. I experienced some success as a result, and maybe you have, too, but I also experienced plenty of despair, setbacks, discouragements, and self-doubt that kept me from finding the fulfilling career I enjoy today.
Most of us go about  it all wrong. We think the first thing we must do is write  a publishable  book.  But that sort of thinking can lead to years of struggle, failure,  and waning  enthusiasm, plus an overall nagging feeling that you just dont know what youre doing. That  was the old way, and it doesnt work anymore.  That was the outdated way the  take-three-times-as-long-as-you-need-to-get- where-you-want-to-be way.
Its time for a new paradigm.
Its time to take a brand-new  approach  to your writing career, the type of approach that employs not only “big thinking, but a strengths-based attitude  about who you are and what you can bring to the world. Its time to create an author platform  uniquely  right for you, that  uses your gifts and talents and the skills you can easily develop to produce not only something you can be proud  of, but something  that touches others and expands your reach in a rewarding and fulfilling way.
In todays publishing world, platform  is the key not only to the success of your books, but to your personal and professional fulfill- ment  as a creative entrepreneur. When you discover a platform  that reflects who you really are, youll also find a writing career that gets
you up in the morning, eager for the day—a career you truly love.


About the Author


Colleen M. Story is on a mission to inspire people from all walks of life to overcome modern-day challenges and find creative fulfillment. Her latest release, "Writer Get Noticed!," is a strengths-based guide to help writers break the spell of invisibility and discover unique author platforms that will draw readers their way. Her prior nonfiction release, "Overwhelmed Writer Rescue," was named Solo Medalist in the New Apple Book Awards, Book by Book Publicity’s Best Writing/Publishing Book, and first place in the 2018 Reader Views Literary Awards.

With over 20 years as a professional in the creative industry, Colleen has authored thousands of articles for publications like “Healthline” and “Women's Health;” worked with high-profile clients like Gerber Baby Products and Kellogg's; and ghostwritten books on back pain, nutrition, and cancer recovery. Her literary novel, “Loreena’s Gift,” was a Foreword Reviews' INDIES Book of the Year Awards winner, an Idaho Author Awards first place winner, and New Apple Solo Medalist winner, among others.

Colleen frequently serves as a workshop leader and motivational speaker, where she helps attendees remove mental and emotional blocks and tap into their unique creative powers. Find more at her motivational site, Writing and Wellness, on her writing career website, Writer CEO, and on her author website, or follow her on Twitter.



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