Tuesday, January 27, 2015

My new novel I think about YOU is LIVE!!

TITLE: I Think About You
AUTHOR: K.S. Thomas
GENRE: Contemporary Romance
PUBLICATION DATE: January 27, 2015
LENGTH: 50,000+ words
CONTENT WARNING: Adult Content - Language/Situations


One's dream can be a funny thing. A collection of random thoughts. A compilation of your deepest fears and desires. A sign?

Most days, Marissa leaves dream interpretation to the psychologists and psychics, but when her subconscious churns out a vision of her first love so real it jars her from her sleep, she can't help but wish she knew what it meant. Or at the very least, what the lingering feelings still present long after she's awake, mean.

Drew isn't looking for signs. Mostly, he's just trying to avoid them. Like the street sign that marks the turn to her old house. Or the stop sign at the edge of town, reminding him where he belongs and what else is out there. Her. Marissa. She's out there. But that doesn't matter anymore.




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Drew’s shoulders raised and his arms moved out ever so slightly, but he kept his hands safely tucked away in his pockets. “I'm glad you came over.”I wasn’t practicing the same restraint. I reached out and affectionately squeezed his arm. “Me too. I feel better having talked about some of this stuff.”
His eyes darted back and forth between my hand on him and my face. “Hey, you want to go sit out on the deck? It's nice out tonight.”
“Okay.” It was an abrupt change in topic, but maybe it was best not to dwell on the past any longer now that it had been resolved as much as it would probably ever be. Although it still left me with the lingering question, ‘Where did we go from here?’
I followed him out back to a huge deck furnished with a hammock and several chairs. I went straight for the hammock and climbed in while Drew pulled up one of the chairs to sit beside me.
“I can't believe you still have this thing. I used to love laying out here.” I swayed back and forth, completely cocooned in the softly weathered linen, staring out at the starlit sky.
Drew’s mouth gave way to his half-smile. “I remember.”
I kept swinging back and forth, feeling more content than I could remember feeling in a long time. “Drew. How come you never told me you bought that land?”
He exhaled loudly, leaning back in his seat and kicking out his legs. “I was going to. Just never got around to it, I guess. I mean, at first I was just going to see if the bank would even give me another loan since my dad had just helped me buy this place. I didn't really think they'd say yes, but they did.” He moved his hand in the air like he’d thought they were nuts. “So, I made an offer. I went pretty low and I never thought they'd accept.” His hand went up again, signaling another surprise. “But they did and, next thing I knew, we closed on it and I owned ten acres of pasture, complete with a fishing pond.”
“Why did you even want it?” He was on a roll already and I was determined to get him to spell out every last detail regarding the inner workings of his brain if I could.
Staring out into the night, a distant look came over his face, like he was remembering the whole thing. “When I saw the for sale sign it sort of set this crazy plan I had into motion.” He grinned. A dopey, happy grin. “I could just picture myself buying it and, when the time was right, taking you there, getting down on one knee.” He turned to face me. “You know the drill.”
I nearly flipped out of the hammock. “You were going to ask me to marry you?”
He nodded. Apparently he saw no reason to hold back anything at this point. “That was the plan.”


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Monday, January 19, 2015

White Swans - A Regency World (Book 1) by Annamaria Bazzi

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Book: White Swans A Regency World (book 1) By: annamaria bazzi Cover Design: Natasha Brown Genre: Young Adult



Kendíka’s second chance at life begins as a nightmare. Will the eerie eyes always looking down from the sky reveal themselves? Kendíka challenges the aliens no one has ever seen to bring about a better life for the humans trapped in the surreal Regency world she wakes up in. While getting to know her alien owner, she discovers the aliens aren’t so perfect and have much to learn about humans. Will Kendíka survive or perish, attempting to make life better for the people living on Regency?  

Purchase link: Amazon


Startled by the lack of movement, Kendíka sat up in bed, scanning the shadows in the moonlit room. Perspiration beaded her forehead while her heart pounded against her ribs. The last thing she remembered was sitting in the limousine next to Mr. Vetrano, arguing about her future. He insisted the will mandated her future, not him. Did the pill knock her out? How dare he drug me! She blinked and, holding her breath, glanced around the unfamiliar room. When her lungs screamed for air, she exhaled then took another deep inhale. What the hell? What happened to the limousine? Butterflies unsettled her stomach. Her back stiffened. Her heart drummed. Oh, my God! When did I get out of the car or come to this room? Why would Mr. Vetrano bring me to such a freaky place? Fear and the thought of her parents’ death brought fresh tears to her eyes. She slid out of bed and shuffled her bare feet along the stone floor, hands held out to make sure she didn’t bump into anything hidden by the shadows. At the opposite end of the room, she could make out a dark blob, which she hoped might be the door. Somewhere along the wall near it, she would find a light switch. She advanced slowly, making sure not to stub her toes. Her fingertips ran along the smooth wood. The handle felt cold. She pulled on the knob, but it didn’t budge. Strange! Her heart missed a beat. Why is the door locked? With all her strength, she pounded on the door. “Mr. Vetrano?” She paused. “Is anyone out there?” She beat her fists on it a few more times, but when no one came to investigate the commotion, she slid to the floor and buried her face in her hands. Think, girl, think. Standing again, she moved her hands along the smooth walls at the edge of the molding, feeling for a light switch. Why can’t I find it? She tried again…nothing but wall. Why is no one coming? Hunched over, she scuffled across the icy stone floor to the open window. Below, she spotted a quaint lake nestled in the middle of an English garden. A cool breeze swept her hair away from her face, invigorating her spirits. 

  About the Author:

author pic

Although born in the United States, Annamaria Bazzi spent a great deal of her childhood in Sicily, Italy, in a town called Sciacca. Italian was the language spoken at home. Therefore, she had no problems when she found herself growing up in a strange country. Upon returning to the States, she promised herself she would speak without an accent. She attended Wayne State University in Detroit Michigan, where she obtained her Bachelor of Science in Computers with a minor in Spanish. Annamaria spent twenty years programming systems for large corporations, creating innovative solution, and addressing customer problems. During those years, she raised four daughters and one husband. Annamaria lives in Richmond Virginia with her small family where she now dedicates a good part of her day writing. 

  You can visit Annamaria at: Blog / Website / Facebook Page / eMail / Twitter / Goodreads / Pinterest Check in on Kendíka’s Facebook Page 

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Sunday, January 18, 2015

SUNDAY BRUNCH ~ And...I lied.

So...just over a year ago I wrote this post...okay, it was a rant really. A really bitchy, snotty rant. It was rude and uncalled for and it felt really good - as most bitchy, snotty rants do.

Mostly I was making a dramatic declaration that I would never ever write in the present tense in addition to never writing porn (which I announced in a previous rant).  

Basically it went something like this ~

"I'm sincerely hoping the present tense narrative thing has always been there and I was just lucky enough to evade it all these years, because if it's yet another NA - Steamy Sex - book boyfriends that make me want to gag with heroines that make me want to punch- writing fad, then I'm totally screwed. Writing in present tense is another thing you can add to the list of things you'll never find in my books. I can't do it. I don't like it. It won't happen. May my sales suffer for it as long as I don't have to suffer through it."

If it sounds arrogant and snobby, well, it was kind of meant to. It was a snotty and bitchy rant.

Anyway, the reason I've brought this up today...and the reason I'm stalling and repeating the words snotty and bitchy and rant as often as I can before getting to my actual point is...well...because...UGH!


There. You got it out of me. You happy now?! 

Yeah, well, I am :-)  And since I'm on a roll already, I'll just go ahead and say it - I was wrong. There's something very enjoyable and captivating about reading something as it's happening. Well, when it's done right I guess. Sometimes I still feel like it makes things rushed and choppy, but maybe that has more to do with the writer's style than choosing to write in present tense. 

Anyway, point being. I made a mistake. I made a faulty rant. And that's okay, because I'm learning and part of learning is making mistakes. And I kinda hope I keep making them, because it means I'm still learning, and still learning means I'm still improving. Incidentally, that paragraph needs the shit edited out if it. Holy repetitive wording. Screw it. I'm leaving it. It's a blog. It's Sunday Brunch. It's not perfect. It's spontaneous and... it's me. 

P.S. I'm still not gonna start writing Porn. That rant stands. Well, mostly. I've sexed it up ever so slightly since I wrote that...but still, don't expect to be reading about some chick’s juices gushing from her hoo-ha while some guy laps it up like it’s water in the Sahara anytime soon.

Sunday, January 11, 2015

Sunday Brunch - And that awkward moment when you tell someone you're an author and they tell you about the book they wrote, or thought about writing, or were told to write back in 1998...

It never fails. Okay, it rarely fails. There are exceptions to everything. Just ask my daughter the extrovert who will put on a public performance on any sidewalk, anytime, anywhere, but then will randomly claim she's too shy to sing in front of her own mother...

Anyway, as I was saying...It doesn't happen often, but, on rare occasions, I do venture out of the house and mingle with the other human beings I sometimes watch from afar through my living room window. I know they're out there. And I like that they're out there. I just don't always like to talk to them. It's an introvert thing. Not an 'I'm a total biatch' thing. Truth is, people scare me a little. Okay, truth is, they scare me a lot.

On these outings, it's not uncommon for me to meet new people (I am a lonely introvert, closely surrounded by people-loving extroverts. It's my cross to bear in life, and I'm surviving...some days better than others). Inevitably, my mother, or someone, will say, 'oh, yeah, she's an author,' which may briefly trigger a moment of interest in my work, but more often than not, it triggers some long lost, buried - but not dead, memory of their work. Shockingly, I've discovered since coming out of the writer closet, I am not as alone as I thought. Or, even as I'd hoped. It seems, in fact, that EVERYONE has written a book, thought about writing a book, been told to write a book, would like to write a book or has PLANS to write a book. Which is awesome and all, but frankly, I don't give a fuck. 

I don't want to hear about the publisher who wanted to pick up your children's book three decades ago. I don't want to read your poetry collection. I definitely do NOT want to listen to you break down the table of contents of your book, or hear about the writing process in general. It's all right up there with having a person who knows I was born in Germany, but now live in the U.S, tell me what it's like to look out of an airplane window. How the fuck do you think I got here, lady? By boat?

Don't get me wrong. If you are in fact, a fellow writer, published or otherwise, I WANT to talk about writing with you. It's my thing, it's what I love, and finding others who share that love and connecting with them is a beautiful and greatly appreciated thing. Also, if you are new to writing and have a genuine interest and are looking for genuine advice or feedback, I am always happy to give it! Always. Supporting each other on this writing adventure, is what being a part of this Indie Community is all about to me.

All I'm saying is this. 

If when we meet and you tell me that you're a cop, or a teacher, or a doctor, or a barista, or a what-the-fuck-ever your calling is in life, consider whether or not you'd like me to tell you my experiences and thoughts regarding your chosen profession, preferably in a very detailed and time consuming way that suggests the information is brand spanking new to you and highly important to your general existence. Because, as a writer with an extensive imagination, I should warn you, in one way or another, I've done them all.

Monday, January 5, 2015

New Release - Treasured Moments



Presented by the Crazy Lady Authors, a collection of the good, the bad, and the ugly side of relationships. Hold on to your seats. Some of our tales will have you doubled over in laughter, bring tears to your eyes, and some will make you thankful for the place you call home.

Box Set


Click on the book cover or author's name to be taken to their profile.

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A Moment in Time - Kelly Cozzone Alexa Wright is a happily married mother. Her son, Eric, was born in a previous marriage and he struggles with his place in both families. She has vowed to make the best decision for her son. Eric wants to live with his dad. How can she possibly figure out what the right decision is?

HR Cover

Haunted Raine - R.E. Hargrave Lorraine Morrissey let life pass her by. Her wake up call comes when she realizes that her husband is rarely home, and she's filling her days with trivial tasks. A crazy idea to save her marriage leads to a summer vacation unlike any she's ever taken; one that involves buying a haunted house.

Coming Home - Teri Riggs Abby, a young Navy SEAL's wife, must learn to cope after her husband dies in the line of duty. Hoping to learn how her husband spent his final days, she heads to Bethesda to sit with her husband's best friend, a soldier who remains in a coma caused by the same IED blast that killed her husband. But can anything mend Abby's broken heart?

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15 W. Gibson - Aubree Lane Knowing Uncle Sam is about to come knocking, Jimmy Franks enlists in the Navy. Leaving Suzy is the hardest thing he's ever had to do. Left alone to deal with their feuding families, Suzy Franks is heartbroken when Jimmy ships out. Her husband's letters of love brings comfort, but 15 W. Gibson is a lonely place without him.

the agent

The Agent - Samantha Jacobey An author of dark tales is looking for someone to represent her. An agent who thinks all writers are the same wants the job. Will one lunch date be enough to convince him that she's different, or will her clouded past continue to overshadow her future?

The Bench - Nikki Lynn Barrett Ten years ago, Neil spent a summer with his grandparents when he couldn't deal with problems at home. That one summer led him to his first love, Amber, until a family crisis pulled him away. Now he's back in town and face to face with the woman he never could forget.  

Summer Song - Linda Lee Williams June Gorman might be imprisoned in a nursing home, but her mind roams free. In her private world, memories and melodies go hand in hand. Every day she embarks on a musical journey through her life, one filled with laughter, love, pain, and tears ... her summer song.

Crazy love

Crazy Love - Jayne Hyatt Will Meg be forced to resort to using the crazy family tradition, which she has spent most of her life avoiding, in order to win the man of her dreams?

TreasuredLegacy copy--v3

The Treasured Legacy - Holly Barbo Leone uses the last of her strength to share important family history with her only relative: her grandson David. Despite her final wish not to sell the family heirlooms, David and his wife, Anne, look into it because of their desperate need for money. But the pieces have secrets and the young couple finds themselves in unexpected danger.

Ghost Connection: Lost - Jami Brumfield Ghost Connection is a series centered around Cassandra O'Grady and her unwanted ability to see spirits. In episode one, Cassie and her ghostly best friend, Abel, help a girl save her family from a jealous boyfriend.


Poppy - Cherime MacFarlane A teenage girl learns that the father she adores is not her real father. From her friend's dad, Emma Kay learns her Poppy won her and her mother on the turn of a card. Wrecking her mother's car does not help.

Camael's Gift - Michele E. Gwynn In the heavenly realms, conflict and war are as routine as escorting souls to the other side. For Camael, his routine has just been disrupted as he finds himself drawn to a human woman he encounters while comforting her dying child.

Life Storms - Terri Hubbard Carle Throughout life, you face many types of storms. Learning to trust, believe, have faith and stand strong, will help Carley and her family, as well as Carley and Chad grow closer and stronger.

The Tree House - J.B. Yarbrough The day her brother is born, Izzy hears the words Down Syndrome for the first time. Frightened, she runs to the safety of her tree house.



book links
Amazon US
Amazon CA
Amazon AU
Amazon UK

On January 16 and 17, 2015, all 14 authors will be gathering at one huge Facebook Release Party. Questions answered, teasers of their upcoming books, visits from special guests and huge prizes available to be won.
Come join the party...it's a BYOBB (Bring Your Own Book Boyfriend), but I'm sure these authors will have some available too.

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Sunday, January 4, 2015

Sunday Brunch - And things I think about when I'm not writing...

If you know me on Facebook or follow me on Instagram, you probably already know that Sunday is my dedicated BRUNCH DAY. It's the one day a week I don't think about what I'm doing. The plans are set. In. Stone. No, not really, lol. But I wouldn't mind if they were ;-)

So, since I've already got a solid Sunday routine in place, I'm adding a little something else to my line up. A Sunday Brunch Post. One little post a week that could be super writer related or completely random. Because I'm not big on commitments, and agreeing to write once a week is about as much of a promise as I can make...there are no guarantees it will be super insightful or helpful in any way...although I will do my best to at least be entertaining.

There, that's one of the things I've been thinking about whilst not writing right there. The other thing that's been on my mind a lot lately is this quote by Anne Lamott - “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.” And how maybe I take it a little too literally.

Not that I'm writing mean shit about everyone who's crossed me (and the list is short, so there's really no material there) but I do tend to incorporate a LOT of aspects from my reality into my fiction and some days I wonder if certain people will read what I wrote and go WAIT A MINUTE.

For the most part, it wouldn't be a super big deal. I mean, there's one guy...and I'm not gonna say who or which characters may or may not have been inspired by him, but I like to use my experiences with him as writing inspiration quite a lot. I tell myself that he's so arrogant, he probably assumes I'm writing about him every time my fingers hit my keyboard anyway, so what's the harm? Then, there are others...close friends...family...old jobs...old bosses....old boyfriends. Okay, yeah, that last one, that's the one that makes me nervous. Not nervous enough to stop, but nervous enough to where I'm playing out conversations in my mind of what might transpire between us should said ex ever read said book.

Phone rings. In spite of my better judgement, I answer (mostly because this conversation is imaginary).

"How did you know about the gas station thing?"

"What gas station thing?"

"The gas station thing. Don't play stupid. I know you know what I'm talking about."

"Are you sure you have the right number?"

"I read the damn book!"

SILENCE. "Oh. That gas station thing. You really shouldn't tell my brother stuff. He has a big mouth."

Or...maybe it would go something like this...

"You can't do that. You can't just write about a person without getting their permission."

"I know that."

"Then why did you write about me?"

"I didn't."

"You're going to stand there and tell me FILL IN THE BLANK wasn't supposed to be me."

"It wasn't you. It was my EXPERIENCE with you. And I own ALL of my experiences. In fact, I think I'm going to use this conversation I'm experiencing right now in a blog post tonight."

And then of course there's always this possibility...

"So...you're still in love with me?"

"No, asshole. It's called FICTION."

"Yeah...sure it is." Smiles smugly. Will never believe otherwise.

And that's the scariest part of all. 

On the upside (and much closer to what will probably really happen) this guy, and any other guy I choose to write about, will likely never pick up a single one of my books, them being total chick books and all. We'll never have an awkward conversation and it's entirely possible our paths will never ever actually cross again. But, none of this is stopping me from thinking about the endless possibilities regarding an interaction post publishing. Mostly because I like having imaginary conversations in my head. That's pretty much how I got into writing in the first place :-P