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Book Blog, Promotion and Publicity, The Craft of Writing

How do you find new-to-you authors?

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Authors talk. We share information, we vent, we cry and we rally.

Earlier this year, I was part of several different conversations all wondering how readers are finding new authors to read. This inspired me to put together a survey, which ran on my author page for about two weeks.

Here are the results.

This was far from a scientific survey. Although the link to complete the survey was posted on my author page, in an advertised post, and shared by many people on their pages, we only had 74 respondents. Since it was posted on Facebook, there has to be a preference for Facebook as a social media outlet considered. And since iBooks readers tend not to congregate on Facebook, that also should be taken into consideration.

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Respondents came from the US, Canada, Europe, Asia and Australia.

Of the respondents, 36.5% read 1-5 books  a month. 27% read 6-10 books a month. 36.5% read 15 or more books a month.

5% rarely read new authors. 57% read new authors 1-3 times a month. 26% read new authors 4-6 times a month. 12% read new authors more than 6 times a month. 

There were 26 options for the question “How do you find new authors?” The top four answers were:

Facebook posts by other authors I know about authors I didn’t know–74%

Free books on Amazon–72%

Word of mouth from readers I know in real life: 65%

Facebook posts by authors about their own books: 59%

The bottom four answers were:

Instagram: 11%

In real life book clubs: 9.5%

Best-Sellers Lists (NY Times, USA Today): 9.5%

Free books on iBooks: 7%

I’m planning on running another more comprehensive poll in the spring which will be posted here as well as on Twitter and in my newsletter. Please consider taking part in this; we want to know what  YOU think.

 

Book Blog, Promotion and Publicity, The Craft of Writing, This Author's Life Thursday

Why I’ll Be in Daytona in Early February

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Way back in 2013, when I was still pretty much a baby author, someone told me about a book convention happening in St. Augustine. I don’t remember how I got signed up, but there I was, with a table assigned to me and a place on several panels.

Oy. I had no idea what I didn’t know!

The event was called Olde City, New Blood, focusing on paranormal literature, and since I had three YA paranormal books, off I went. I was excited; not only was I going to this event, but I was meeting up with a bunch of author friends I’d only known on-line, and my daughters were coming with me, as a mommy-daughter getaway.

That first year was . . . memorable. I still recall a few authors I met there (Carol and Adam Kunz, Damon Suade, Lea Nolan). There weren’t a ton of us indies, and in those days, there was still a lot of distrust and misunderstanding between indies and trads.

Plus, unfortunately the hotel was kind of a dud. There were huge, loud birds in the lobby, the rooms were sub-standard and there may have been bugs. But when I look back on that first year, I don’t think of the not-so-great parts; instead, I remember how cool it was to be with my fellow authors for the first time ever. To learn. To meet people who are still part of my author life today.

That’s why every year, I go back to what is now Coastal Magic. It’s a unique animal in the world of book events; it draws readers and a wonderful eclectic mix of authors. I always come away with new friends and new authors to read–and having learned more, too.  I drive home fresh, invigorated and ready to be an author for another year!

Coastal Magic feels like home to me. It’s the first con I do every year, easing me back into the ‘fun’ of author travel. I love the hotel. I love the people who come back every year. I love the readers, the bloggers, the staff and the organizer.

If you’re not signed up to attend Coastal Magic, you really should be. When people ask me about Florida events, it’s the first one I mention.

Come join me on the beach February 4-7!!

The Craft of Writing, What I'm Reading Wednesday

I’m Reading The All-Girl Filling Station Last Reunion by Fannie Flagg

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When I first began writing (seriously), I had a tradition of rewarding myself after each book I finished. The dangling carrot could be anything from a diamond ring (my very first book!) to a new handbag or a pair of shoes.

It’s telling that nowadays, my reward is permission to read a book I’ve been saving just for this occasion. Time for reading is much more precious than anything material, and reconnecting with my favorite authors is a special treat.

For this last book (I just finished writing ALWAYS MY OWN, coming January 26th–and yes, it was down to the wire. Long story, but it’s done), I sort of cheated. Christmas fell smack in the middle of writing this book, and under the tree I had a gift I don’t often see anymore: a real book. As in, a physical, hardback book with pages that really turn. My oldest daughter and I have a love affair with Fannie Flagg’s books, and she’d discovered one we hadn’t read.

So with this beautiful book tempting me, I just might have sneaked some reading time when I was in situations that precluded having my computer open to write. And as always, I fell in love with Fannie’s characters, her world and her unique and heart-rending view of family and history.

One of Fannie’s specialities is taking a family situation, tossing a quirky character into the midst of it and then giving the reader insight that goes beyond the knowledge of the main characters. We saw it in Fried Green Tomatoes, during one of my favorite parts of that book, when Evelyn, in the middle of her search for self-knowledge and direction, goes to an African-American church and ends up talking to a friendly church member. Evelyn doesn’t know it–but we the readers find out that the woman to whom she speaks is the daughter of one of the characters in the long and colorful story Evelyn’s new friend Cleo has been sharing.

In All Girl Filling Station, the main character is Sookie, a wife and mother of four in her late fifties. Sookie has just finished marrying off her three daughters (one of them twice to the same man). She’s exhausted and ready to dive into the next phase of her life. Complicating this transition is her mother, Lenore, who lives next door. Lenore is the kind of woman my grandmothers would have labeled a Handful. She’s demanding, attention-seeking and controlling, but she’s also the sort of woman outsiders find quirky and amusing, even when her own family doesn’t necessarily see the appeal.

Sookie is a wonderful daughter, much more patient that I would be. But everything in her life is turned upside down when she receives a letter from Texas that throws into question her past, her history and her understand of self.

Sookie’s long and complicated adjustment to this new information is juxtaposed with flashes from the past, giving us more insight and detail into what led up to the situation affecting Sookie.

All Girl Filling Station tackles a number of complicated themes: the fathomless and multi-layered relationship between mothers and daughters, the dichotomy of self knowledge vs. the world’s perception, family, the evolving role and understand of women in the twentieth century and the love between sisters. I was especially fascinated by the detailed history of the WASPs, an often-forgotten chapter in our nation’s history during World War II.

And as always, Fannie’s fabulous writing had me laughing aloud–and crying. Full-disclosure: I cried hard and ugly tears for about the last 30 pages of the book.

The story also made me think about my own relationship with my late mother. Like Lenore and Sookie, we had both our charming similarities and our extreme differences. I struggled for many years with the idea that because I was not like my mother in some ways, I was a disappointment to her. I made choices in my life specifically to win her approval, at times, and I dealt with the repercussions of the decisions of which she is disapproved. In the end, though, like Sookie and Lenore, I know that my mother loved me to the best of her ability, given her own history and struggles.

Laughter, tears and deep personal insight: what more could I ask from a book?

Book Blog, Love in a Small Town Series, Teaser Tuesday, This Author's Life Thursday

The Christmas One

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The Christmas One

Merry Christmas to my wonderful readers!

Here’s a little Christmas vignette, featuring Sam and Meghan.

 I hope you enjoy it!

Light spilled into the bedroom, bathing Meghan’s face in its soft glow. I lay next to her in our bed, watching the beams play across the smooth white skin of her cheek. Pale red lashes teased the faint freckles, and one lock of her hair had fallen near her full red lips. I brushed it away with the tip of my finger, but she didn’t stir.

I loved the luxury of gazing at her when she was asleep, when she didn’t know I was staring. If she caught me doing it during the day, I’d never hear the end of it. She’d tease me, her face going that soft pink that made me want to pull her close and nibble down her neck. And most mornings, I was up and out of bed long before the sun rose. Working a farm was a twenty-four/seven job, and it was only this time of year, in the dead of winter, that I got a little break. I wasn’t about to waste it by jumping out of bed before I had to.

“What time is it?” She spoke without opening her eyes.

“Early. For you, anyway. It’s not seven yet.”

“Mmmmmm.” She hummed, her lips pressing together. “Then why are you awake?”

“How did you know I was?” I leaned closer, catching her ear lobe between my teeth.

“I could feel you staring at me. It’s creepy.” She shivered as my tongue tickled a spot on her neck.

“It might be creepy if I were some random guy, but I’m your husband, which means I’m exempt from creepy-guy status. I can stare at you all I want. I’ve got a signed document giving me permission.”

“Hmph.” She sounded skeptical, but I spied the subtle twitch of her lips.

“Hey, baby?” I nuzzled the curve of her shoulder.

“Yeah?” She opened one eye, regarding me with curiosity.

“Merry Christmas. I love you.”

Meghan turned toward me, sliding her arms around my neck. “Merry Christmas, Sam. I love you, too.” She kissed my jaw, then my cheek, working her way to my mouth, where she took her time, teasing my bottom lip with her teeth, tracing the outline with the tip of her tongue.

“Don’t you want to see what Santa left you under the tree?” I snuck one hand under her nightshirt, over the warm satin skin of her stomach and up to cup her breast. My thumb circled her stiff nipple, and I was rewarded with her sharp intake of breath.

“I think I’d rather unwrap the gift that’s right here.” She snuggled closer, pressing her hot core against the stiffness between my legs.

Thrusting my hips forward, I growled into her ear. “Have you been a naughty girl? Do I need to—”

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Sam! Are you awake, Auntie Megs?” My niece’s voice cut throw the haze of desire. It was followed by the slam of the kitchen door and the pounding of her footsteps heading toward the stairs.

“Fuck.” I dropped my forehead against Meghan’s shoulder, groaning.

She giggled. “Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s off the table right now.” She nudged up my chin with her finger, sealed my lips with one intense, soul-stabbing kiss, and then sat up, patting my ass. “Come on, Uncle Sam. You need to get your, uh, self, under control before Bridget opens that door. In three, two, one . . .”

“Come on, you guys! Mommy and Daddy said I can’t open anything until you come downstairs. We walked all the way over here, and guess what? Daddy says it smells like snow. And I saw a deer right on the edge of the woods. Are you coming?”

~~~***~~~

“It never fails to amaze me that I can spend hours shopping and wrapping, and the opening is over in a matter of minutes.” My sister yawned and snuggled back against her husband, tucking her feet beneath her on the sofa. My eyes strayed down to where her grey cotton shirt stretched over the small bump at her middle. I glanced at Meghan, wondering if her thoughts were following my own, but she was occupied on the floor, examining a new set of charcoal pencils Santa had brought Bridget.

“Which is actually a good thing in this case, since we need to get over to Mom’s. Reenie just texted that she and Smith are already there, and Iona’s crew is on the way.” Flynn swiped his thumb over his phone and grinned at me. “We’ll leave the newlyweds alone.” He kissed the top of Ali’s head, his hand skimming over her bump in a way that was both possessive and casual. “Enjoy it. Once the rugrats come along, the relaxing Christmas mornings are a distant memory.”

I snorted. “Yeah, the last relaxing Christmas morning I had was before Bridget was born.” I’d spent more holidays with Bridge than Flynn had, and I wasn’t going to let him forget it.

“Touche’.” Flynn was a good guy, and I knew he appreciated the years I’d taken care of Ali and Bridget, when he wasn’t around. He nudged Ali up. “C’mon, woman. Get moving, or Mom’ll be calling to see where we are.”

Meghan and I stood by the Christmas tree as they bundled up for the short walk back across the fields and down the path, to the small house they’d built on the farm. Ali stood on tiptoe to kiss my cheek.

“Merry Christmas, big brother. See you later on for dinner at Mason and Rilla’s?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but we’re not staying late. We’re hitting the road early tomorrow morning, so we can get to the Cove by lunch time. Meghan’s mom is anxious for us to be there.”

“Understood.” She hugged my wife before they were all out the door, Bridget’s excited chatter the last thing I heard as they disappeared around the bend.

And then the house was quiet. Meghan sighed and turned toward the fridge.

“You want some eggs, or shall I make pancakes?”

“Hey.” I came behind her and circled my arms around her waist. “You okay?”

“Of course.” Her voice was too bright, too perky. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

The effect of the words was ruined by the catch in her breath. I closed my eyes, dropped my face to bury in her neck and pressed one hand over her flat stomach.

“It’s stupid.” She spoke so softly, I had to concentrate to hear her. “I mean . . . it wasn’t even . . . we barely knew I was pregnant.” She sniffled. “And it wasn’t like we wanted a baby so soon. It was just an accident.”

“Meghan.” I gripped her upper arms and turned her to face me. “No child of ours could ever be an accident. And no child of ours will ever be unwanted.” I lifted her face so that I could see her eyes, bright with unshed tears. “I won’t pretend to know what you went through, or what you’re feeling now. But I hate that you’re hurting. And I’d do anything to stop it.”

She rubbed her forehead against my shoulder. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do except get through it. I’m trying to be happy for Rilla and for Ali—I am happy for them. But it still hurts a little that they’re getting what I was too dumb to know I wanted.”

“Darlin’, you weren’t dumb. We were both surprised, and we were still adjusting when—well, when there wasn’t anything to adjust to anymore. Stop beating yourself up.” I brushed at her cheeks with my thumbs, swiping at the salty tracks. “And when the time’s right, it’ll be our turn. There’s a baby in our future. I know that for sure.”

Meghan sniffed again. “How can you know that? Maybe this was our baby. Maybe our only chance.”

“I know, because we’ll never give up. When we’re ready, it’ll happen.” I kissed her on the mouth, hard and quick. “And until then, I’m going to enjoy the time I have with my gorgeous, sexy wife.”

She gave a half-laugh, half-sob and caught her hands together behind my neck. “How on earth did I ever get lucky enough to find you?”

I laughed. “You got drunk at a bar in my town, had a bad serpentine belt, and I just happened to be the guy who came to your rescue.” I touched my lips to the turned-up tip of her nose. “And then you came back and rescued me from my dull and boring life. See, baby? It all works out.”

Meghan threaded her fingers through my hair and tugged me down toward her face. “Merry Christmas, Sam. I love you.”

“Merry Christmas, Meghan. I love you right back.” I gave in to her coaxing and kissed her again, this time slow and full of promise.

When she came up for air, some of the pain had seeped out of her eyes. “How about those pancakes?”

I bent, scooping her up in my arms and holding her tight to me. “Pancakes later. First . . .” I pivoted and made my way to the stairs. “You. Me. Upstairs. Naked. Lots of naked.”

She giggled, and the sound warmed my heart.

“You always have the best ideas.”

~~~***~~~

The End . . . for now

Review

The familiarity of home, the warmth of family ties, the sweet sensation of being wrapped in the arms of THE ONE love thatTLOEbookSW meant everything. . .each story is a remarkable package of all this and more.

–Olivia Hardin
USA Today Best-Selling Romance Author

From the Author

The One Trilogy begins with Sam and Meghan’s story in The Last One . . .

Nobody ever said love was simple.
It continues with Flynn and Ali’s re-discovered love in The First One . . .
Can first love last forever?
And it concludes with Mason and Rilla’s surprising romance in The Only One.
Sometimes love isn’t the easy choice. Sometimes it’s the only one.
Writing these books has been an amazing experience. For nearly a year, part of me has lived in the small Georgia town of Burton. I’ve loved watching this community: embracing their sorrows, celebrating their joys and exulting in their love stories.
I hope you’ll spend some time in Burton, too. One warning: you may not want to leave.
And if you enjoy The One Trilogy, come back to Burton for the Always Love Trilogy. Always For You is available now, and Always My Own is coming January 26th!

The Last One

FREE on all venues for a limited time

iBooks/Amazon/Nook/Kobo/Google Play

Book Blog, This Author's Life Thursday

Family: Love, loss and letting it go

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IMG_1301This year, 2015, marks ten years since my family last had what for us will always be a ‘normal’ Christmas. It was the last time my parents were both alive and well. It was the last time we did what we’d done every year, in one form or another, as long as I could remember: we opened gifts at home, then trooped off to my parents’ home for more gifts and breakfast, then to my aunt’s home for more . . . back to our home for a rest and then off to my sister’s house for Christmas dinner.

Lots of running around, lots of hither and yon, lots of food and lots of family.

This is the time of year plenty of people grouse about their family. I hear groaning about parents, about having to see all those family members with whom they don’t agree politically or religiously, about the travel and the fuss and the mess.

And I think . . . you don’t know how lucky you are.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I know I’m blessed. I know that for nearly 40 years, I had an amazing extended family who supported me, who spoiled my kids, and with whom I had an extraordinary shared history. I know that I’m still blessed because I have an unbelievable husband, five fabulous children, and a sister, two brothers-in-law, a sister-in-law, a niece and six nephews. We’re not geographically close, but I’m lucky to have them.

I was never one of those people who complained. When we lived in Hawaii and then in Wisconsin, my husband and I were anxious to move closer to our family. I appreciated them. I loved every gathering, every function I was invited to attend, every wedding, christening and other celebration we had. I loved impromptu lunches or breakfasts with family, running into them at stores and even the big birthday parties.

Now we live in Florida. We have wonderful friends, and I’m happy for that. But this time of year, I feel even more keenly what we lost in between June 2006 and June 2007.

When the song “Home for The Holidays” comes on, I cry. When I hear “I’ll Be Home For Christmas,” I cry. It’s been ten years, and I’m not sure that sense of loss ever goes away.

Thinking about this today as I was running Christmas errands, it struck me that maybe that’s why it’s so important to me to write about families. All of my books include strong families, even they’re non-traditional: Crystal Cove is all about Jude and the family she’s both inherited and created. Burton includes the Reynolds, the Evans, the Wallaces and the Nelsons, who all come together to form a large and loving family. Ava’s family in the Perfect Dish Romance series is near and dear to my heart. And the folks in the paranormal world–Jackie, Lucas, Cathryn, Rafe, Nell–they’re a sort of family, too. Perhaps a tad dysfunctional. . .

It doesn’t surprise me that through my books, I’ve subconsciously re-created the family I miss and crave. Actually, it offers me comfort. And in effect, you, my readers, have given me a whole new sense of family. This year, my piano is decorated with cards from my readers. That makes me enormously happy.

So thanks to all of you for reading about my families, for indulging my need to write about them and for being so wonderful to me. Big hugs and hearts.

And merry Christmas!