Filtering by Tag: romance novel

Goodnight & Go--Cover Reveal

Alright, guys.

So, I've been trapped in the editing cave all summer. Like, I only went to the beach once. I don't even think I saw the sun at all. Not a single blistering, painful sunburn. No itchy mosquito bites from nights spent around the campfire. No sand in places sand has no business being.

The sacrifices I make for my art, I tell ya.

But I've got a treat for you.

Just this morning, my cover artist sent me the final cover for Cat's story--Goodnight & Go. And, guys, I might be in love...

meikausher_Ebook.jpg

RULE #1: NEVER STAY THE NIGHT

Happy-ever-afters are for suckers, and Cat Keller ain't no sucker. For years, she's followed a set of rules--rules to keep things casual, to keep her heart safe. And she's never broken them…until a one-night stand turns to two nights, then three, then…well, maybe she can bend just one rule.

RULE #2: NEVER BRING A BOY HOME

Jude Oliver--radio deejay and local heartthrob--was only looking for one night, too, and the cynic in red high heels seemed like just the girl to erase the taste of heartbreak from his lips. But with every night they spend together, Jude is falling for Cat. Soon, he's ready to take the leap and love again. Can he convince her to jump with him?

RULE #3: NEVER…UH…WAIT, IT'S HERE SOMEWHERE

With his unwavering optimism and dimpled grins, Jude is defying Cat's casual code. As she scrambles to hold onto her defenses, she can't help but wonder if he's the one guy worth breaking all her rules for.

 

Keep your eyes out--Cat's story hits stores next month!

July's Too Close, Guys (Oh, and Here's a Cover)

I had a moment this weekend.

There I was, outside enjoying the first glimpses of Spring, making notes for the revision I'm about to start, when it hit me:

I'm doing this thing.

I haven't formally announced it yet, but most people in my life know: I've decided to self-publish. And my first book, Something So Sweet, will hit digital bookshelves on July 1st.

THIS July 1st.

Am I freaking out?

Hell yes.

Am I still going to do it?

Hell yes.

It's so crazy to me. Three, maybe four, years ago, I couldn't have imagined being here. My world was so much smaller then. My dreams seemed impossible, illogical. Just plain silly.

A lot of things have happened since then, and I couldn't be more grateful for every one of them. If I hadn't gone through the lowest lowest and the highest highs of my life, I would not be here now. About to publish my first novel.

Guys.

Can you believe it?

With the release a couple months away, I'm thinking I want to share something with you: the official cover of Something So Sweet.

You ready?

Here it is:

SHE'S A DREAMER STUCK IN A RUT   Big dreams. Tierney Chandler had 'em. Why else would she leave her small town--and her picture perfect fiancé--behind? Nine years later, the town's still small, her dreams are mostly still dreams, and her still-perfect ex is interested. Maybe she should ditch her daydreams and pick up right where she left off…   HE'S A DREAMER STUCK ON HER   Jack Elliott is a baker, making his dreams come true one golden, flaky pie crust at a time. Years ago, he lost out on his chance with Tierney, but now she's back--and he's determined not to let his annoyingly perfect cousin swoop in and steal her away. Again.   TOGETHER, THEY CAN MAKE NEW DREAMS COME TRUE   With a little magic potpie, some stellar kisses, and a heaping helping of blue-eyed charm, maybe--just maybe--Jack can convince Tierney that he's the dream she's been waiting for.

SHE'S A DREAMER STUCK IN A RUT

Big dreams. Tierney Chandler had 'em. Why else would she leave her small town--and her picture perfect fiancé--behind? Nine years later, the town's still small, her dreams are mostly still dreams, and her still-perfect ex is interested. Maybe she should ditch her daydreams and pick up right where she left off…

HE'S A DREAMER STUCK ON HER

Jack Elliott is a baker, making his dreams come true one golden, flaky pie crust at a time. Years ago, he lost out on his chance with Tierney, but now she's back--and he's determined not to let his annoyingly perfect cousin swoop in and steal her away. Again.

TOGETHER, THEY CAN MAKE NEW DREAMS COME TRUE

With a little magic potpie, some stellar kisses, and a heaping helping of blue-eyed charm, maybe--just maybe--Jack can convince Tierney that he's the dream she's been waiting for.

This book...this is the book I've been trying to write for years. And years and years and years. It's been through so many changes, from plot lines to character names to settings, but at its core, it's always been a story about dreams. Letting go of old ones and chasing down new ones. Something that I relate to now more than I ever have before.

I love these characters and this world so, so much. And I'm both terrified and thrilled to share it with you guys.

July.

Shit.

That's not too far away, is it?

It's a Love/Hate Thing

I should be sleeping. I've got work in the morning and I am NOT a morning person. Odds are, if I don't go to sleep soon, I'll be grumpy all day. But sleep won't come.

I'm writing. Or, at least, I'm trying to. As of right now, the ratio of words written to Youtube videos watched is extremely unbalanced. This is what I mean when I say I can't resist the distractions!

To be fair, I've been trying to write. I'm just getting frustrated. Every scene I write just goes on and on and on and....on. They never. Freaking. End. To be honest, it's driving me batty. I mean, I have an outline for God's sake. Is this some sick game my muse is playing on me? This should be relatively easy, just getting the basic skeleton of each scene written, as they appear on my outline, to be revised at a later date. Turns out, this is easier said than done.

I can't say I've had this problem much in my writing history. Usually, I write an outline and the scenes flow. Not really smoothly. It's a first draft, after all. (Speaking of which, Sarah over at Sarah with a Chance wrote an awesome entry about the pain and frustration and feelings of hatred that come along with the first draft process -- check it out!)I'm feeling more and more like I want to print the two hundred and something pages of this thing out and throw them through a wood (or maybe word?) chipper, just to seek revenge on the hell it's putting me through!

It seems like writing was so much easier when I was younger. That daydreaming sixteen-year-old who'd read hundreds of romance novels, then decided she could write one. That first novel was like an adrenaline rush, all the way through. There were no thoughts of how bad the writing was (which, I'm sure it was) or whether or not the plot made sense (I'm sure it didn't). Or if my characters would actually do or say the things I wanted them to. The second novel flowed just as easily. I spent many days in my college Lit class scribbling away in the notebook I'd designated for novel-writing. I had fallen madly in love. I had found my calling. I was a novelist. Up until this point, I'd harbored dreams of moving to Nashville to become a songwriter -- never mind that I can't a) sing or b) play an instrument. I was a dreamer, and that was enough.

But the moment I picked up that pen and decided to create two characters out of mid-air and let them find their happy-ever-after with each other, my heart was lost to the wonderful world of fiction. And I've been in love ever since. But, like in any relationship, there are bad times. The kicking, screaming, throwing things at the wall kind of fights that leave you pouting for days. Words go on strike. Your muse decides to take a vacation without telling you. You have the perfect idea for the next scene in your novel, but when you sit down to write it...nothing. You convince yourself you were insane to ever believe you could do this, but then the next day, you just know this is what you were meant to be: a writer. A novelist. An author. A published author. You just didn't realize when you fell so hard for this tricky craft of writing just how HARD it was going to be.

And that's where I'm at just now. This business of writing a book is SO. DAMN. HARD. Even as I think about giving up, retiring my pen for good, I know I could never do it. Writing owns my heart. That's all there is to it. So I must suffer. And push myself. And forge through these hard times. Because somewhere down the road, maybe a few feet or so, maybe a couple thousand miles, there's a light. One of those neon marquis signs, flashing bright pinks and oranges and yellows and blues against the black night sky. And it's saying: You Did It.

And damned if I don't want to get there.