Posts Tagged ‘author post’

Samantha Young – Deleted Scene!

Guys, it’s only four days until Samantha Young’s next book in the On Dublin Street series!

Because even four days seems like far too long to wait, Entice are delighted to reveal that we have not one but TWO exclusive deleted scenes from Fall From India Place to reveal!

Read on for the first, and check back on Monday, 2nd of June for number two . . .

 

 

 ****

I pressed save on Marco’s English discursive writing piece and slid the laptop over to him. “I’ve made some notes. Once you go over them, you’re good to go.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, scrolling down the screen to see what I’d typed into the comment boxes.

We were sitting in Stockbridge Library instead of the school library, because last time we did that we could barely get anything done. This was due to the whispering going on around us as people wondered what we were doing together. Word had long ago reached enquiring ears —a.k.a my friends and his—that we hung out sometimes, and people were curious as to what was going on with us.

Unfortunately, the answer wasn’t as exciting as I’d like.

After I’d kissed Marco he’d avoided me for a month. But kissing him and being rejected had actually been somewhat liberating. Okay, it hurt like hell and I felt humiliated, but after a while I began to realize that the world hadn’t ended. I’d done something for me, something brave, and I’d made it out okay. It had changed my perspective. I spoke up in class now, and I stood up for myself and for my friends against petty name-calling. I entered my short story into the junior writing competition my English teachers had urged me toward, and I joined the debate team.

That’s sort of why Marco started speaking to me again. I, of course, missed the bus after my first meeting with the team and when I walked outside, there he was.

He never said a word to me about the kiss. He just pretended like it had never happened. I didn’t feel great about that but I was happy he was at least talking to me again. A few weeks after that I discovered his English tutor had up and quit on him because of her own workload. She had been helping Marco with Higher English.

Although I was a few years younger, I was ahead of the curve in English so I talked through his requirements with my English teacher and I’d offered to help him.

Thankfully, he’d taken me up on the offer and we met up once a week to work on it and anything else I thought I might be able to help him out with. I wasn’t surprised to discover that Marco’s problems with English were mostly a lack of confidence. Reading over his discursive piece only highlighted to me how much smarter he was than he realized.

“Now we need to work on your personal essay.”

Marco shut the laptop, covering his yawn with his fist. He blinked sleepily at me. “I’m trying. I’m pretty beat.”

I knew his Design and Tech teacher had helped get him an apprenticeship with a local independent tradesman in carpentry and joinery. It was a requirement that Marco had employment with someone in the trade in order to get onto the course at Edinburgh College for carpentry and joinery. Technically, he didn’t need Higher English or Higher Maths, but I felt like it was a challenge he’d put upon himself to prove that he could do it.

And he could do it. If he would organize his workload a little better. He’d gotten permission to leave school to work on his apprenticeship during his free periods and he worked all day Saturday with his new boss. He worked full time during the holidays, too. I knew he was tired. But I also knew that when it came to his personal essay, he was procrastinating.

Marco wasn’t really into oversharing.

“Have you picked a subject at least?” I asked quietly, unable to stop my eyes as they roamed his face, studying every little thing about it. I squashed the butterflies, as always, and waited.

He looked up from the desk, those amazing eyes of his staring right into mine. “Not really.”

“What about your grandparents or your life back in Chicago?”

“Hannah,” he smiled sadly, “Nonno pretty much hates me and I was bad news in Chicago. I hung around guys that were getting into really ugly stuff. That’s why my grandparents sent me away. That’s not really something I want publicized on an academic paper.”

Intrigued by this new information, I leaned forward. “Why do you think your granddad hates you?”

My mum’s dad had died before I was born but my dad’s father was still alive and he always showered me with love the few times a year I got to see him. I couldn’t understand a grandparent hating his grandchild.

Marco leaned back in his chair, his jaw taut as he stared at the desk. “I’m half African-American. My Italian grandfather can’t stand the fact that his precious daughter slept with a black guy.”

My lips parted in shock. “He’s racist?”

Marco shrugged. “My dad could have been Japanese, Jewish or Mexican and it would have pissed Nonno off. What mattered was that my dad wasn’t Italian and my parents weren’t married when my mother got pregnant. Nonno is really old-fashioned and a total traditionalist.”

You could call it whatever you wanted. There was no excuse for mistreating a child ever, and for the excuse for it to be based on simple genetics? I was furious for Marco. “Was he awful to you?”

Marco shrugged again but this time he met my gaze when he said, “My mom pretty much disowned my dad and my grandparents wouldn’t let him near me. He gave up, took off before I was even one. My mom stuck around for a few years but she couldn’t take being a mom. She was only seventeen when she had me. And she couldn’t take the fact that her dad, who’d once idolized her, couldn’t stand the sight of her and the massive disappointment she represented. So she took off too. Left me with them.”

My stomach felt heavy. “How bad was it?”

He looked me straight in the eye and I knew by his expression he wasn’t going to tell me. By not telling me my imagination worked on overtime and I felt nothing but fury at his grandfather and a need to protect Marco. “Nonna’s great. She tried to make up for… everything else. And most of my Italian side of the family are great. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to live with them.”

“So you got in trouble and they sent you here to your uncle?”

He nodded, a scowl forming on his handsome face. “My mom’s big brother. My Aunt Gabby is Scottish-Italian but her family is originally from Chicago. She came for a visit years ago and my Uncle Gio fell for her. They came up with the idea for the restaurant, her parents had capital, he moved here with her and D’Alessandro’s was born.”

“Is he okay with you?”

Marco’s upper lip curled. “He’s had his head filled by Nonno so make what you will out of that.”

“Marco,” I reached for his hand before I could stop myself, sliding my fingers through his. I waited as he stared at our hands clasped together.

I felt his fingers tighten for a second before he gently pulled his hand away. He cleared his throat. “I haven’t told anyone else that. I’d appreciate it if you don’t repeat it.”

“I won’t,” I promised.

There was a moment of charged silence between us.

Marco inhaled, as if trying to catch a breath in the suddenly thick air. “My personal essay?”

I shook my head. “You don’t need to make it too personal. Why don’t you write about working with your wood?”

He grinned suddenly and it took me a second to understand why. I blushed, realizing my inadvertent innuendo.

“No.” I pushed him playfully and he chuckled. “I mean write about one of your projects in woodwork. Write about why you do it, what it gives you.”

He stopped laughing. “Okay. I’ll give it a try.”

“Okay.” Still blushing I quickly stood up to escape my embarrassment. “I’ll just put this book back.”

I grabbed the book up off the desk and hurried down the aisle to where we found it. It wasn’t until I was there I remembered we’d gotten it off the top shelf, a shelf even I couldn’t reach without a stool. Marco had retrieved it.

And then he was there. The heat of his chest against my back. “Let me,” his voice rumbled in my ear and I tried to stop the shiver that chased down my spine and failed.

He took the book out of my hands and reached up above me, going on tip-toe so his chest brushed my back. As he slid the book back in place I turned around, thrilled by his proximity. Marco’s eyes dropped to my face and I flushed again at the sudden intensity in his expression. His arm lowered but instead of dropping it to his side he gently tucked my short hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing my skin as he did so.

I felt the heat and surge of attraction between us. I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him again, but I was frozen by the fear that if I did, this time he would stop talking to me for good.

“Thanks for your help,” he said gruffly, dropping his hand to his side and stepping back.

“Anytime,” I whispered, but he was already walking away.

****

A.L. Jackon is answering YOUR questions!

Are you as excited about Jared and Aly’s return as we are? Come to Me Softly is out June 24th 2015!

We’ve missed them so much! WAHHHHHHH!

Even though we have around one month to wait, A.L. Jackson has basically become the best person EVER and agreed to answer some fan questions. We know, pretty incredible, right?

Do you have a burning question that you need answered before the next story starts? Perhaps you want to know where A.L. Jackson gets her inspiration from, or what’s coming next?

Simply enter your question in the comments box below (be sure to include your name!) or email piatkus.entice@littlebrown.co.uk and we’ll post her answers in the week after the UK bank holiday weekend! So better hurry! You have three days to put your questions down.

We already have like, twenty. They might all be questions about Jared. NO shame.

Eloisa James on Potent Pleasures . . .

Do any Enticers dream of being a historical romance author? Or any kind of author?

Here at Piatkus, we’re constantly seeing our authors encouraging new writers on their websites, on social media or in essays for magazines/blogs. They’re right – reach for the stars!

And sometimes, when someone you really admire, tells you a story from their past, about starting out and perhaps making a few mistakes, it’s tempting to think, ‘Yeah right!’

But yeah . . . RIGHT! Everyone was once in your shoes and in Eloisa James‘s first year as a published author, she learned and grew and was basically a totally tough battle warrior!

With the help of intelligent readers like you, some tough times led to one of her most well-loved books, (Potent Pleasures, the first in series that has just become available in the UK for the first time) and inspiration for all others that followed . . .

****

Remember how much you longed to be a teenager?  When I was unpublished, the published state looked just as glorious as the magic year thirteen does to a eleven-year-old girl.  I had no problem visualizing myself signing my name with a flourish and meeting my editor at fancy New York lunches.  But First Years are often not exactly as one visualizes.  Take the First Year of Marriage, for example.  Magazines and movies portray it as a blur of romantic dinners and surprise gifts from one’s dearly beloved.  Yet even as my husband and I wander into our second decade together, I shudder to think of our first twelve months.  I am not just complaining about the state of the bathroom, either.  Why doesn’t anyone tell you that supposedly intelligent men turn out not to have balanced their checkbook for years?

And what about that long-awaited First Year as a Teenager?  I expected something marvelous to happen.  OK, breasts might have been a long shot, but secretly I hoped to transform into a graceful, slender girl with blond hair.  Needless to say, my hair remained obstinately red, my clumsiness was unmatched by anyone else trying out for the cheerleading squad, and my waistline was a matter for tears and French fries.  The year is summed up, in my mind, by one day at lunchtime when the boys (who generally stuck to their side of the room), were acting like rampaging animals, tossing about a garment of clothing.  I hadn’t the faintest idea what they were so excited about.  And it wasn’t until the said white scrap of cloth shot over to the girls’ side of the room and draped itself on my head (rather like the homecoming crown I longed for), that I discovered the existence of the jock strap.

I guess my real point is that First Years are often painful.  My first year as a published author was no exception.  The shock was all the greater because I so enjoyed the unpublished life.  I don’t happen to be someone who was wise enough to attend creative writing classes, or join the Romantic Writers of America, or learn how to ride before jumping in the saddle.  Nope, I hopped right on and started writing.  And because I loved it, I kept going.  The year I spent writing Potent Pleasures will always remain, in my memory, one of the most charmed experiences of my life.  I was juggling my job, my three-year-old son, and our household (my husband never did learn to balance a checkbook) – but at four o’clock every day I would sink into the story of Alex and Charlotte.  And I loved it.  Writing was something I felt I could really do well.  I don’t know about you, but I have to work hard at mothering.  It’s the toughest job I’ve done, and if I ever meet someone who says out loud that they do it very, very well, I will likely consider a citizen arrest on the grounds of criminal insanity.  As for being a wife, I was never much good at math.  And as for my job…it’s a job.  Hard one day, excruciating the next, kind of fun one week, stressful for a month.  But writing Potent Pleasures was pure pleasure.

So my first year as a published author should have been bliss, right?  Everyone who picked up the book would say, “Hey!  This is great!” and write me a letter saying so.  What’s more, the publication of Potent Pleasures was not the only wonderful thing that happened to me in 1999.  My second child, Anna, was also born.  Oh bliss!  Oh glory!  Oh desperation!

Why had I not realized that juggling a job, a household, a second book, a four-year-old son and a new baby added up to INSANITY?  At the same time that Potent Pleasures was hitting the bookstores, I was struggling to finish my second novel.  The contracted due date for Midnight Pleasures came and passed.  It wasn’t that the book wasn’t done – it was, sort of.  Sophie and Patrick was a gloriously funny couple.  I adored them and their jokes, their love for each other and their griefs.  The problem was their sex life.  They didn’t have one.  Well – I hardly had one, so why should they?  Anna was born at a low birth weight, and woke up every two hours for a feeding, every night for months.  And if she didn’t wake up, I was under strict instructions to wake her up.  Who needs sex?  Sleep is the ultimate pleasure.

The second problem was my readers.  About half of them loved Potent PleasuresUSA Today loved it, Booklist loved it, and Publishers’ Weekly loved it.  Half of my readers fell into Charlotte and Alex’s story just as I had hoped when writing it:  with pleasure and affection.  But the other half of my readers wrote me blistering letters.  Charlotte and Alex dance a quadrille in 1803 – and there were no quadrilles in England until 1815.  Even worse, Alex wears pajamas – and there were no pajamas worn until the 1930s!  Here’s where my mortification came in.  You see, in my day-to-day job, I am a scholar.  Facts are my business.  I spend most of my days teaching undergraduates how to write footnotes and how to do research.  The mortification of being crowned by a jock strap was easily surpassed when I became the queen of the anachronism.

In my defense, I had no idea that some readers treasure historical accuracy.  Back in my blissful pre-publication state, my husband pointed out that men didn’t wear pajamas in the old days.  I dismissed that suggestion out of hand.  My Alex couldn’t wear a nightshirt!  Yuck!  My husband also thought that prostitutes were not known as hookers back then.  But I liked the sound of a Hookers’ Ball.

Now that Potent Pleasures was actually on the stands, more letters went up on Amazon.com every day.  Outraged letters battled supportive letters.  My editor described my Amazon site as a war zone.  My husband described it as forbidden.  After visiting the site, I invariably spent the whole day in tears (mind you, lack of sleep doesn’t make criticism any easier to handle).

Fortunately, there was a good nine months before Potent Pleasures was to be published in paperback.  I spent two of them in a frenzy.  A few anachronisms couldn’t be changed as they were woven into the texture of the story.  But some pages underwent as many as seven alterations.  Words changed.  Details changed.  Alex lost his pajamas and went to bed naked.  Charlotte’s garters descended to her knees and she attended a Cyprians’ Ball rather than a Hookers’ Ball.  Baby Pippa, alas, was forced to eat cake rather than ice cream.  I turned in the revised draft of Potent Pleasures in a state of complete exhaustion.

In my first year of as a published author, I learned that the art of writing is just as difficult as all the other good things in life, such as parenting or staying in a marriage.  But like those other things, the pleasure of writing well is far keener than the pleasure of writing easily.  By talking back to me, irate readers helped me become a better writer, in a way I may never have learned on my own.  The paperback of Potent Pleasures represents, to me, the very best story that I could write at this moment.  And yet the paperback is no longer just my property.  It is a collaborative effort, written with the help of intelligent, conscientious, and vocal readers.

My baby, Anna, not only sleeps through the night, but bops around her room listening to Justin Bieber.  My husband may not balance our checkbook, but he cooks a great pot of pasta, and he does all the laundry – and he even sorts the colors sometimes.  Sophie and Patrick regained their sex life, and became a more passionate couple for having lived a celibate existence.  I’m still writing novels, but now I find myself looking forward to letters from readers, whether they be irate, supportive or otherwise.  How else will I grow as an author?  I still don’t have time to take a creative writing class!  What was most difficult about my First Year as a Published Author has become a crucial source of help and inspiration.

****

Potent Pleasures and the rest of the Pleasures trilogy is available now in ebook from Piatkus Entice, and in paperback July 3rd, 2015!

A special note from Chelsea Fine, author of BEST KIND OF BROKEN

So when author Chelsea Fine sent us a letter to her readers, it was like Christmas come early. Don’t know yet what all the fuss is about? Best Kind of Broken is out now, so make sure you catch up on why Pixie and Levi are our new spirit animals . . .

And WE LOVE HER GUTS, too!!! 🙂

 

 

Hello readers!

I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to release Best Kind of Broken. I wrote it nearly two years ago so it is incredible to finally share it with the world! This little book means so much to me.

I loved developing Pixie’s character. She’s artistic and messy, and she rambles. I love that she rambles. Haha! But mostly, I love how perfect she and Levi are together. They have that special bond that only forms between childhood best friends. They have history, trust, and real love. The kind of love that’s born and bred slowly—and can’t be broken easily. Their connection to one another was just magical to write.

This is also my first new adult novel! I’m a big fan of the new adult movement and couldn’t wait to sink my fingers into it as a writer. New adult focuses on those lost years between high school and real adulthood—those years where you’re still lost and unsure about your future but you have all the freedom to go find it. It’s a pivotal season in life and new adult really captures the trials and triumphs of the era.

I originally wrote Best Kind of Broken as a 30,000-word novella, but my amazing agent, Suzie Townsend, encouraged me to develop it into full-length novel and wow! I love it a hundred times more now than I ever did before.

My original plan was to write an opposites-attract romantic comedy about two college kids who fall in love while working at a retirement community over the summer. What I ended up with was a romantic dramedy about two childhood friends, torn apart by tragedy, who learn to love—and to heal—each other and themselves while working at a cozy little Arizona inn. Crazy how some things just don’t go according to “plan” at all, right?

Crazy wonderful!

Because after two long years of sitting on Levi and Pixie’s sweet little story, I finally get to release to the world! This is my dream come true and YOU fabulous readers are the most important part of it. I LOVE YOUR GUTS!

Chelsea Fine

 

Best Kind of Broken is out now on ereaders everywhere!

The one that got away is living across the hall . . .

Pixie and Levi haven’t spoken in nearly a year when they find themselves working-and living-at the same hotel in the middle of nowhere. Once upon a time, they were childhood friends. But that was before everything went to hell. And now things are . . . painful.

All they want to do is avoid each other, and their past, for as long as possible. But now that they’re forced to share a bathroom, and therefore a shower, keeping their distance from one another becomes less difficult than keeping their hands off each other.  Because despite everything that happened before, this isn’t the kind of chemistry that it’s easy to resist. Welcome to the hallway of awkward tension and sexual frustration, folks. Get comfy. It’s going to be a long summer . . .

Laura Wright talks ETERNAL SIN!!

Laura Wright gives us a taste of her delicious dark and incredibly sexy 6th book in the Mark of the Vampire series, Eternal Sin!!

 

 

IS HE WORTH SAVING IF HE WON’T EVEN SAVE HIS CHILD?

Imagine yourself pregnant by a man who has had his emotions stripped. He knows who you are, but doesn’t care if you live or die. And unfortunately, you need his blood to survive.

 

 

 

“Don’t pretend you care anything for this balas,” Petra said through gritted teeth.

A sudden gust of pain assaulted her then, and she shuddered and winced before reaching for the wall to steady herself. This was bad. This whole mess. He was right. The bastard. She was drooling. She wanted so desperately to control herself around him, but her body, and the balas inside her womb, knew what it wanted. And it would go to any lengths—even the humiliation of its host—to get it.

“I’ll tell you what,” Syn said in a soft, calculated voice. “You want my blood? Take it.”

Her gaze flipped up to meet his. Just the words, the suggestion, the offer, pained her.

“You do want it?” he said.

Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him, and her entire body shuddered with need. She hated the thought of blood in her mouth. But his blood . . . “Yes, I want it,” she ground out. Dammit, I crave it. I obsess over it. I lust for it.

He leaned closer, whispered, “Why do you hesitate, then?”

“Because, Mr. Wise, what I crave is toxic.” Her top lip trembled. “Despicable sludge. Poison.”

Dark brows lifted above intrigued eyes. “You speak of my blood.”

A grunt of sarcastic amusement came from her throat. “The paven’s a genius.”

“Are you in love with me, Petra?”

“What?” She recoiled. “God, no. Never!” The thought made her sick. Or was it hunger and need raging inside her that twisted her empty belly? It was so hard to decipher what emotions coincided with what situations.

“Then why does it matter to you if my blood is moralistically toxic? It’s not logical. If you need it, you take it.”

 

This is the premise of Eternal Sin, the 6th book in my Mark of the Vampire series. It’s an emotional, sexy, action packed book, with so much at stake. It introduces us to the new world for the mutore, the vampire/shifters; the Rainforest. A hidden world for shifters that our heroine, Petra has grown up in. Finally, Phane, Lycos and Helo will learn about where they came from.

 

Phane couldn’t take his eyes off the female hawk. He stood on the very top of the highest rock within the gathering stones and stared. Every member of his family that could handle sunlight—except Ly, of course, who had once again refused to come—was seated and waiting a few feet below him. Like Helo, Phane had also been curious about the Rain Forest and its creatures. After living all of his life among vampires, Phane had wanted to know about that other part of himself. The one that had never been discussed or revealed. But in all that time—hell, even back at the house in SoHo—he’d never contemplated another being like himself.

He felt his hawk scratch inside his skin as he watched the female shift from Avian form to human. In the air, gliding, swooping, touching down, she’d been magnificent.

 

I really hope you’ll enjoy Eternal Sin, and the new direction the series is taking!

Happy Reading,

Laura Wright

 

USA Today Bestselling Author, Laura Wright is passionate about romantic fiction. Though she has spent most of her life immersed in acting, singing and competitive ballroom dancing, when she found the world of writing and books and endless cups of coffee she knew she was home. Laura is the author of the bestselling Mark of the Vampire series and the USA Today bestselling series, Bayou Heat, which she co-authors with Alexandra Ivy. Laura lives in Los Angeles with her family.

Eternal Sin is available now from Piatkus Entice!

Tim O’Rourke – Secrets to Success

Happy Wednesday and  Inspiration Week here on Entice! We hope you’ve been enjoying the tips, facts, and pictures we’re posting on our site and on Entice Twitter (@piatkusentice).

Ok, Entice writers, ever wondered how a successful ebook author gets started? And how they grow? Read below for a web post from Piatkus author Tim O’Rourke, author of Vampire Seeker!

 

Although I have published many titles before, my book Vampire Seeker (Samantha Carter Series) Book One, was the first of my books to be published by a traditional publisher. It was published last week by Anna Boatman and her team at Piatkus. It was an incredibly exciting day for me as I had worked hard for many years to get my work noticed, let alone be published by a major publishing house like Pilatus. So how did my dream come true? It started about two years ago, with my desire to share my stories with as many people as I could.  That’s why we write, isn’t it? It is for me. I began by self-publishing books onto Amazon so they could be downloaded to the kindle. I then published my books via Smashwords so they could be downloaded via Barnes & Noble, Kobo Store, iTunes and others. It took about seven months and five books for my work to start to sell in what I considered to be significant numbers.

In my first month I sold 50 books and seven months later I had sold just under 1000 books in a single month. My books started to climb the Amazon charts and within a few short months I was selling in excess of 10,000 books per month via the various eBook platforms. In my first year of self-publishing I sold approximately 100,000 copies of my books.  A year later my books continue to sell and that number has now more than doubled. I often get asked what is my secret or how do I do it. To be honest, I don’t think there is a secret. I write lots and I mean lots. I write five days a week for about eight hours each day. But most days longer. Even when I was holding down a full time job, I would write on the train to and from work, on the bus, wherever I could. In the last two years I have written over 1.5 million words and all of these have been self-published. In just over two years I have self-published over thirty books. And for me, I think that was what helped my work get noticed. I didn’t sit back and spend a year trying to push my first book on social media sites, although I did do some of course – social media is really important and a great tool too – but I started work on my next book, then the next and so on. Once people had downloaded my first book, I hoped they would enjoy it enough to look for the second, and I wanted it to be there waiting to be downloaded. If they enjoyed the second I hoped they would look for the third and so on. I wanted there to be enough of my books out there so I developed a following. My work ratio is this – writing 80% and social media 20%. That works best for me.

Once I had built a flowing it was important for me to thank those people who had downloaded my books and taken the time to read them. I am genuinely so grateful to the people who take time to leave me messages and feedback on Facebook and other social networking sites. I love chatting to them and discussing the books I have written. I respond personally to every email and message I receive and acknowledge every post left for me on Facebook. It really is a good way of interacting with the people who read and buy my work. If it wasn’t for them, then I wouldn’t have sold one book. So my advice would be to write, write then write some more. People can only read your work if you make it available for them to do so. But most important of all, take some time out of each day to say thank you to those that enjoy reading your work. 

 

Thanks, Tim! Now to all your Entice writers, keep going! There’s still time to enter!