If I could have my dreams come true, this would be the soundtrack to accompany a kick ass movie trailer for #Forfeit. I can see where the mood changes from Daisy & Xander meeting, harmless flirting, to the kick ass strings section where they’re playing the game and it all turns dark.
Now, why won’t Juno Temple and Max Irons return my calls so we can film this damn thing?
😉
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Last November, I helped out Kitty French at Totally Booked Blog‘s author event in London. It was a great day – an amazing chance to meet authors such as Alice Clayton and Tara Sivec. Each author sat behind a table they’d artfully decorated with books and perfectly on brand swag. Kitty had chocolates, pens and cute little book tile magnets, while Tara Sivec had such pretty book charms, no one dared help themselves, assuming they were to buy.
My own street team is growing nicely, so with great excitement, I began trawling Etsy for desirables I can send to my readers. The Book Swag Shop sell all manner of customisable trinkets, my favourite being wine glass charms.
But as I’m about to place my order, a little devil appeared on my shoulder whispering, or you could make your own… An hour later, the girl who made her own wedding dress because two dressmakers said the dress she wanted was impossible to make* had spent a vast £14 on eBay, buying enough craft goodies to make 200 trinkets.
Parcels of pink and green glass beads, tiny daisy charms and silver heart bails are winging there way to me. Now, all I need to do, is figure out how the hell you make inch-high, perfect replicas of #Forfeit…
Cx
*Â Actually, it wasn’t impossible
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Xander pushed her hair off her face, swearing, and not under his breath. ‘This is stopping, right now. Stand up.’
She tried, but the world shifted sideways and she grabbed Xander’s shoulders, the window frame, anything, to stay upright. The world shifted more as he picked her up, carrying her upstairs. Did he think he could take her to bed? He had some nerve.
‘Christ, Daisy, he’s not worth killing yourself over. No one is.’
Her mouth didn’t work. She was in the bath, but there wasn’t any water. She opened her mouth to point out his schoolboy error, but ice-cold water came raining down, hitting her skin like hailstones. Daisy screamed, trying to get out, but she fell back, or maybe Xander pushed her, and she stayed, crumpled in the bath with the freezing water dowsing her soul.
‘Stop it.’ The words were barely audible above the shower, but finally she could think, she could focus, she could talk. ‘Xander, stop it.’
He turned the water off. ‘Better?’
‘You bastard.’ She stared at her soaking jeans.
‘Obviously better. Time for a real shower?’
He helped her stand, but the room swirled and her stomach churned. Daisy staggered out of the bath, barely making it to the toilet before she threw up. She threw up until there wasn’t anything left in the world to throw up and as fresh tears flowed, Xander wrapped her in a towel, wiping her face as he cradled her. Oh God, her life was a disaster, but she didn’t have the energy to make it better. She let Xander rock her like a baby until her sobs calmed to shuddering breaths.
‘Why are you letting him do this to you?’ he asked quietly.
‘Because I love him.’ She was pathetic. ‘I’ve loved him since the day I met him and I don’t know how to stop.’ Horrifically pathetic.
But the Knight-in-Shining-Cricket Pads held her a little tighter and kissed her head. ‘We’ve all been there, Daze.’
Utterly, tragically pathetic.
In my self-publishing journey, Catherine Ryan Howard’s Self-Printed has been my total bible – from setting up your US Tax number so you don’t lose 30% of your vast royalty fortune, to designing a colour coordinated website. But there’s one thing I’m straying away from her advice over: KDP Select.
CRH’s advice is not to enroll in KDP Select as it means you can’t sell your eBooks anywhere else. At the moment I only have them on Amazon, so figure it’s worth a 90-day punt. The reason I want to do it, is to take advantage of the 5 days you can set your book for free, and a count down promotion.
Sales are currently 2-3 daily, which is according to CRH means my book is (almost) selling, but #Forfeit isn’t getting as much love as I’d like. Reviews are all 5* on Amazon and that’s not my mum – she hasn’t figured out how to leave a review yet… sigh. I’ve no idea if KDP Select will increase my sales, but I’ll keep you posted on what does happen.
Has KDP Select worked for you?
It’s also a great day to buy #Forfeit in the UK. The Kindle Price is just 77p until Aug 31st and the paperback (one copy left in stock! lol) is just £6.05 – that’s almost £3 off the list price.
ps. I’ve linked to CRH’s blog, not her book on Amazon, as she’s about to release the 3rd Edition of Self-Printed. So don’t buy the 2nd Edition now – wait a week or two!
This week, I was supposed to be posting a track to go with Chapter Five (I’m not doing a track for all 37 chapters – that would take most of the year!) but yesterday, Amber from Cosying Up With Books tweeted this track, saying it was written for #Forfeit. I think she’s right.
From Chapter Four:
His lips were still on her neck, his thumb brushing over her collarbone.
Warily, Daisy looked up, but Xander’s eyes twinkled back at her. OMG, it wasn’t just a stupid dare. Her smile grew. As did Xander’s. He liked her.
Before she lost her nerve, she kissed him again and to her relief, he pulled her closer, teasingly biting at her bottom lip. She was so going to owe Clara twenty quid.
‘I guess this proves my point,’ she said between kisses. ‘It really would be complicated.’
With his lips still against hers, he smiled and gave the tiniest nod. Oh why were they in James’ house, why couldn’t they be somewhere more private? Like her bed. There was no doubt that Xander was as up for it as her.
‘Can we get out of here?’ she whispered. ‘Back to the party… or something?’
He opened his mouth, but quickly closed it again, scowling.
‘What?’ Had she pissed him off? ‘I’m sorry, I just–’
He shook his head, smiling before glancing around as if he were looking for the right words. Instead, he picked up her phone and typed a message.
Can’t leave. Not yet. Still playing game.
Okay, but why… She laughed, getting it. ‘You can’t talk?’
He shook his head.
‘Your dare?’
He nodded.
‘But if you talk, you lose and we can get out of here.’
No, he typed. Want to win.
‘More than party with me?’
He nodded, but Daisy had other ideas. Mischievously, she wriggled closer, pressing against him, adoring how he stifled a groan and looked up at the ceiling.
Stop it.
‘No. If you talk, you lose and I have more chance of winning the pot.’
Do a deal? If I win, or you win, we share and get money back.
Her smile grew more coquettish. ‘I’m in, but what on earth will we do in the meantime?’
Xander flashed that Colgate smile and with his hands holding her face, he kissed her, making her truly grateful she wasn’t standing up. How could she when her entire body appeared to be made of spaghetti?
Regular followers will know, I have a dream. One day I will own a pair of Louboutin heels and have somewhere fabulous to wear them – in the Lakes. (Ideally, my own swanky book launch party at the Samling, but other Michelin-starred venues are available.)
Today, I took a step towards that dream. It’s my birthday tomorrow and like most people I know, I don’t need anything. But there are lots of things I want. A new pair of Uggs (mine are trashed), most of everything on Not On The High Street, and a totes high end handbag.
I’m a working mum; it’s hard to justify spending stupid money on frippary, but the other night, I thought why can’t I splash out on something special? After all, I need to be able to say, ‘it was a gift from my husband for my 28+12th birthday…’ about something fabulous. Forget what I wanted; clearly, I needed a Mulberry handbag.
And so, just after two this afternoon,  a little bit of glamour hit the Lake District. The packaging couldn’t be lovelier (see the thank you message below) and the bag felt every bit as sumptuous as it looked on Fearne Cotton’s arm in Grazia. To top things off, my awesome boss gave me a Fortnum and Mason hamper!
Could I be more of a Jilly Cooper heroine? Right now, I feel as if I could seduce Rupert Campbell-Black with the mere jiggle of my arse as I made scambled egg. (You maybe need to read Polo to get that.)
5/5 Louboutins for my classiest birthday ever!
cx
Amber, from Cosying Up With A Book, has written an epic review of #Forfeit. It’s fair to say that she liked it. *Happy Dance*
Check out the rest of Amber’s review here, or buy #Forfeit now…
Self-publishing is a whole lot of fun, BUT a whole lot of work. The author part (that writing/editing malarky) is a doddle compared to the publisher part. So far on this journey, I’ve been:
And now I’m fully immersed in Sales & Marketing. Job one was the obvious Amazon stuff – book blurbs, author pages. Then onto Facebook, Goodreads and Twitter. Then this website and blog. Then the street team. And now… finally, the newsletter. Phew. The sign-up form is here if you’re interested.
This has been a surprisingly tough one. Mailchimp appears to be most people’s e-marketing tool of choice and it seemed great. Last Friday night (I know how to live) I dutifully sat down to create my newsletter sign-up form. It was a thing of beauty. Back ground colours, fonts, all carefully tweaked to sit harmoniously with my site. Around midnight, the form was done. Right, now to pop it into my site.
Cue an hour of Google searching. At one in the morning I discovered there’s WordPress.org where you can add plug-ins (like Mailchimp) and there’s WordPress.com where you can’t. My beautiful form won’t work here. *pouts* In the end, I’ve opted for a simple Google form for the sign-up and I’ll import it to Mailchimp when I want to do some actual newslettering.
In other Sales & Marketing news this week, Amazon now let indie authors take pre-orders for forth-coming novels. Hurrah. I’m going for a New Year launch for Distraction which means you’ll be able to pre-order your copy in October!
So that’s it now. Everything’s set up and I can crack on with some author work, namely editing the hell out of Distraction.
Oh wait, don’t my Pinterest boards need updating… *bangs head on table*
Oh God, she was about to kiss Xander. He raised his eyebrows, his eyes twinkling as he waited. She’d have to start this – it was her dare, not his. Tentatively, she brushed her lips against his, testing the water before she set the timer on her phone.
Five minutes, easy-peasy.
It all started harmlessly – even a little mechanical, but after the first minute, Xander’s hands moved up her back, his thumbs caressing her skin through the thin silk and shivers surged over her. He’d done the same on the one night stand, just before he’d undone her bra.
And I want him to do it again.
What the hell was that drumming noise inside her head? Was that her heartbeat? She wanted to pull away, desperate to breathe, to take control of her head, but her hands still held his face and his Bulgari aftershave still sent her senses reeling.
Slow, sweet, teasing, this was no teenage kiss-dare. Xander’s hands had moved up her bare shoulders, his fingers doing wicked things to her neck. How long had they been kissing for, three minutes, maybe four? Why wasn’t it thirty seconds? Then she’d have four and half minutes still to go.
Tequila body shots. Oh to lick salt off his abs again.
‘Supposed to be just friends,’ Tabitha slurred behind her. ‘That doesn’t look like friends.’
Daisy’s phone beeped. The five minutes were up, but no way was she stopping.
I want more.
‘I bet it’s her dare,’ James replied.
A dare.
She dragged her lips from Xander’s, looking down, watching his chest rising and falling. It was just a stupid dare. How had she got so carried away? How had they got so carried away? Oh God, what if he wasn’t carried away? What if he thought she were some desperate cow, throwing herself at him? Mortified, she closed her eyes, her head dropping. How could she laugh it off, put on her bravest of brave faces when she’d made such a fool of herself?
Xander dropped a kiss on her neck.
Xander, the hero of #Forfeit, is a chef. In the name of essential book research, I feel obliged to eat in odd top-notch restaurant and recently, my husband’s birthday and friends’ wedding anniversary gave the perfect excuse to head further afield than the local pub.
Handily, Simon Rogan has three eateries not far away: the Pig & Whistle (a gastro pub), Rogan & Co (the restaurant we opted for) and l’Enclume (a Michelin-starred restaurant I dined at in 2012).
All three are in the idyllic Lakeland village of Cartmel and since the sun shone down from a clear blue sky, it seemed churlish not to enjoy a glass of prosecco in the square. Glamour levels were high, but not sure it was a Louboutin opportunity – the cobblestones would be a total disaster.
Dinner was awesome. Our group of six were the first in Rogan & Co and the last to leave. We said goodbye to English sparkling wine apertifs and four bottles of the most divine Malbec. Seriously, it had to be the best wine I’ve ever tasted – and served at the perfect temperature. Full marks there.
The food was definitely more l’Enclume than gastro pub. In fact, several items on the menu I recognised from the Michelin-taster menu. Individual cockles arrived as pre-appetisers, handmade bread to fill us up and each course was flawlessly delivered by staff who were attentive and willing to crack a joke.
Wine, Food, Staff – all clearly and carefully considered. If only the same attention to detail was paid to the venue. Check out the photo… What’s not to love about the slate ‘plates’ and faux-rocks much of the food was served on? But the crackle glass tea-light holders – what were they, £1.25 in Ikea? The simple tables and seascape photos with wonky horizons could work, but not when you put them next to your granny’s green ceramic casserole. Don’t get me wrong, I adore eclectic, but Rogan & Co’s decor isn’t eclectic, it’s lazy. And don’t get me started on the ladies’ toilets…
3/5 Louboutins – venue letting the food down.
ps.  I first went to Rogan & Co in 2012. Back then, of of the petit fours was a fruit “cloud”. God only knows how it was made, but the texture in your hand was nothing short of revolting – utterly, skin-crawlingly revolting. When you put that baby in your mouth however… oh dear Lord, it was a flavour explosion. In #Forfeit when the players go to a fancy-schmancy restaurant, I solved this hand-to-mouth nightmare by creating a Passion Fruit Cloud Lollipop. Simon, you can have that one for free. 😉
Caroline Batten 