Zoe York's Blog, page 12

I posted this on the home page, but it’s so exciting, it’s worth sharing twice.

Look what’s happening next month!

Sofia Grey is hosting a month of awesome romance authors, including Laura Kaye, Ella Frank, Lissa Matthews, and of course, ME! I’m going to have so many embarrassing fan girl moments, it’s going to be ridiculous.

The theme is July Fever, and I can’t wait to see what everyone talks about. Since What Once Was Perfect happens over the Christmas holidays, I’m tossing up a “Christmas in July” idea … or maybe I’ll share an excerpt where Kyle remembers their first summer together. That’s fever-inducing, I promise.

Check out Sofia’s website, or keep an eye on my Facebook and Twitter pages – I’ll post links when the month starts, and when it’s my turn to share some sizzle.

The post I’m taking part in my first blog tour! appeared first on Zoe York.

Bookstore Love

Last night we went to Chapters, and I came home with 3 mass market paperback books (Vivian Arend’s High Risk, Elle Kennedy’s Midnight Rescue, and Victoria Dahl’s Too Hot to Handle). This is the only thing that I have any second thoughts about regarding self-publishing: that my book won’t be on the shelf in Chapters. It’ll be on the website, linking to Kobo, and a paperback will be available from Amazon. But one thing that I noticed last night was that even in that massive bookstore, some of the (trade published) authors I wanted to look at were absent or under-represented. The aforementioned Dahl, for example. In January, I bought one of her Tumble Creek books, and last night would have bought the other two if they were in stock. They weren’t. Mia Marlowe has a number of paperback books available online and from some Chapters locations, but not mine. And of course, a lot of authors now have digital only content, regardless of their route to publishing.

But still…the browsing, the weight of the growing pile in my arms. That fresh printed paper smell. Exchanging smiles with someone perusing the same selection as you. An evening spent at a bookstore is a wonderful thing.

Book Trailer for What Once Was Perfect

Look what I made!

Now I’m off to the garden

It’s the long weekend, and I’ve got hostas to put into my shade garden. Gotta go!

The post Sunday round up: Made a book trailer, bought some books, May long weekend (time to garden!) appeared first on Zoe York.

Drum roll please ……………………………………….

It is my pleasure to unveil the cover for Book No. 1 in The Wardham Series, What Once Was Perfect. This sneak peek at Laney & Kyle was designed by yours truly, but it was made better thanks to input from the amazing Romance Diva community members.

Join my newsletter (sign up at right) to get an email once What Once Was Perfect hits e-retailers on July 1, 2013.

The post Cover reveal for What Once Was Perfect! appeared first on Zoe York.

Last week I saw a piece on Romance Novel News about Sarah M. Anderson’s book trailers (she used Lego!). According to the post,  Tessa Dare has used Barbies, and a quick YouTube search proves that to be awesomely true. This one for Maya Banks is my favourite.

Other writers, like Noelle Adams and Amanda Brice have trailers that tie in with the book cover and other branding.

That I’m going to do a book trailer is not in doubt. Have you met me? (Okay, many of you have not). One of the reasons I’m self-publishing is because I’m a control freak about imaging, and I love graphic design stuff.

But what kind of trailer to make? Silly? Pretty? Silly and pretty? I don’t have any Barbies, but it is yard sale season…Oh, the possibilities are endless!

The big cover reveal for What Once Was Perfect is in two days. TWO DAYS! As soon as that’s out there, watch this space. A trailer will follow soon after.

The post Marketing Monday – a book trailer, you say…but what kind? appeared first on Zoe York.

Last weekend I took advantage of a FREE offering by Mia Marlowe and downloaded her novel, Stroke of Genius. I like historical romances, but my TBR pile is at the tipping point with contemporaries alone, so it’s unusual for me to dive right into something I’ve just downloaded it, and even more so with a book outside my preferred genre. But I made an exception for this book and I’m so glad I did. I cheated this week; Friday Reads started on Thursday night. Couldn’t help myself!

What are you reading this Mother’s Day weekend?

After Stroke of Genius, I have Second Chance Boyfriend, the sequel to One Week Girlfriend. I devoured that last weekend, and I’m looking forward to the follow-up.

The post Friday Reads – a rare step away from contemporary romance appeared first on Zoe York.

Excerpt#1 and excerpt #2 have been previously posted.

Excerpt #3:

We’re friends, right? Friends can talk about anything.”

He barked out a laugh. “Okay. Let’s talk about your last boyfriend.”

She pretended not to hear him as she started to rinse off the dinner plates. He stalked over and placed his hands against the counter on either side of her, trapping her next to the sink. He flicked off the tap and nudged his head against hers.

“I thought you wanted tonight to be honest.” Laney’s voice was quiet, but the hurt rang loud and clear.

“There’s honest and then there’s too much. Getting into twelve years of sexual history falls into the latter category. “

“I don’t want to know about your sex life,” she whispered. “I just … we didn’t do anything like that. Couple stuff. I’ve never done that, with anyone. I’m curious.”

“I’m not a great example of relationship success.” That was an understatement. He didn’t know how they’d ended up on this topic, and he couldn’t see a way to navigate past it. Every muscle in his body was taut with tension, and he felt like a fight was just around the corner.

“Humour me.” She pressed against him, making a pocket of space in which to turn, and then she was sliding her hands under his shirt. “Let’s go sit by the fire and talk.”

“I have a better idea. Let’s go lie down by the fire, and I’ll convince you that talking is overrated.”

“That’s been my line, hasn’t it?” She laughed and twisted away from him, swaying her hips in the process. He groaned, wanting to grab those hips and slide her beneath him, kiss her until they both forgot how much was still left unsaid between them. He felt restless, like a boxer before a match, and he followed her, wondering if that feeling of discordance maybe couldn’t be separated from the passion sparking between them. That this fling was actually makeup sex, delayed a decade.

Laney knelt on the rug and pulled off her top. He stood in front of her, taking in the glorious sight in front of him. Her blond hair flowed loose down her back in gentle waves, cascading over the delicate curve of her shoulders. She wore a black pushup bra, her pale skin glowing in stark contrast despite the dim light in the room. She looked up at him with a gentle smile, but there was a faint tremble to her bottom lip.  He stroked her cheek, and she rubbed her face back against his hand.

“Come down here,” she whispered, tugging on his hand.

He pulled off his own shirt and joined her, pressing their bare torsos together, warming her on both sides as he dragged his hands up and down her spine. He dipped his head to capture her mouth and she pulled away.

“Not yet. Let’s talk.”

Kyle groaned and ground his pelvis against her. “Feel that? He doesn’t want to talk.”

She grinned. “We have all night, remember?”

That earned her another groan, and he tucked his thumbs inside the waistband of her jeans. “Then why did we start to get naked?”

She tilted her head to the side and blinked as if just thinking about that question for the first time. “It seemed like a good idea. Like taking off armor. Plus I like it when you touch my breasts.”

He stroked his thumbs around her hips, sending a shiver across her tummy, and then swept his hands north, mimicking the shape of her bra, his fingertips stroking the bare skin swelling over top of the cups. “Mmmm. I like that too.”

“So you keep doing that, and let’s talk.”

“About what? It’s a challenge to think when you’re this close to me.”

“I want to have healthy relationships.”

“Do I look like Dr. Phil?” He slipped one bra strap off her shoulder, then the other. He left a trail of little kisses across her collarbone as he reached around behind her to do away with the undergarment completely. She gave a hitching little sigh when he sat back on his heels and pulled her up to straddle his lap. “Do you think I’m going to help you figure out how best to date other guys?” He thrust his hips hard against her and strummed across her nipples with thumbs.

She swallowed hard. Two pink spots decorated her porcelain cheeks and her eyes dilated wide. “Why wouldn’t you?” she gasped, arching her breasts toward his mouth.

He growled and flipped her over, his body pressing between her legs. He reached between them and undid the button of her jeans. “That’s a good question,” he said, sliding the zipper open. “Why don’t you answer it while I make you come.”

She gasped and pushed on Kyle’s shoulders, wriggling out from underneath him. She held out a hand, as if to stop him from advancing again. “Wait,” she panted. “Just … stop for a second. This feels angry. Why does this feel angry?”

Excerpt is from the Advanced Review Copy; this text may vary from the final published book

The post What Once Was Perfect (Wardham Book No. 1) Excerpt #3 appeared first on Zoe York.

What book marketing ideas do you like?

As I get closer to publishing What Once Was Perfect, the first book in the small town contemporary romance Wardham series, decisions need to be made about promotion. How much time, energy and money do I want to invest? [Answers: a bit, a lot, and not much at all]

You know the adage, “write what you want to read”? I think “offer what you want to win” is another good one. As a reader, I like winning ARCs on Twitter, so I’m definitely going to offer that as a writer. No cost for ebooks, and only a bit of time and energy. Check!

But what else? Blog tours, Goodreads giveaways, cover reveals, countdowns, social media campaigns … the last one is a tricky line to toe. I’ve used my Twitter and Goodreads accounts to engage personally with other readers and writers, and build relationships. I don’t want to take advantage of them now. My website and Facebook page are more obvious self-promotion tools, but I still don’t want to overload anyone. How much Zoe is too much Zoe? I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that. I’ll proceed with caution.

I’d love to hear ideas and suggestions. Links to awesomeness are always appreciated.

The post Marketing Monday – aka Writing is Art, Publishing is Business appeared first on Zoe York.

Excerpt #1 was posted last week – click to read it first!

Excerpt #2:

They sat like that for almost an hour. At one point, Kyle was convinced that she had fallen asleep, but he didn’t want to risk losing the moment, and he couldn’t see her face without shifting. Her head was tucked under his chin, and he didn’t mind not being able to see her face, because her hair smelled amazing, an intoxicating blend of honey and some kind of fruit. Thank god her ass was perched high on his thigh and her legs were bent over his other arm, because in the space beneath he had developed a brutal erection. He couldn’t remember ever being this turned on by cuddling before, except maybe in those first few weeks of dating when they were still working on rounding all the bases.

He remembered every single day of that spring, the long string of her firsts: Laney slowly peeling off her t-shirt in the barn,  then crossing her arms against her chest; her sliding across the bench in his truck, straddling him, grinding her jean-clad pussy against his cock; getting completely naked in a hotel room after the Science Society Formal Ball, wanting to punch a hole in the wall after their only condom broke. Laney had made that night worthwhile anyway, sliding his cock between their bodies, holding herself open, rubbing against the length of his cock until they both shattered apart. They’d spent the night wrapped around each other, and when Laney wrapped her warm little hand around him in the shower the next morning, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He returned the pleasure before check out, and two weeks later when he moved into his first apartment, they had an entire box of condoms at the ready.

She lifted her head and he was torn between wanting her to see where he had wandered in his mind, and hoping she’d return to her original position so he could keep smelling her hair like a pervert. He didn’t dare think that she might be wandering around the same spots on memory lane, even when she pressed her forehead against his chin, then rubbed up his face until her lips connected with his jaw. Kyle stifled a groan and eased her legs down to the ground, freeing his arm to press between their bodies.

“Laney, sweetheart, that’s not a good idea.” It’s brilliant, asshole, shut up. He could barely grind out the words. His body was not on board with being noble.

“Probably not.” She pressed against his hand, flat against her upper chest, stretching her body to reconnect with his face, and the upper swell of her breast filled his palm. This time the groan was louder. “Tell me to stop.”

“We’re going to regret this.” Freud would have a field day with the battle royale going in his head. Baser instincts were definitely gaining traction.

“Probably. Tell me to stop.” Her lips found the corner of his mouth, at an angle, and then her face turned again and they were sharing the barest of open mouth kisses, her bottom lip resting on his, pressing it down. Her eyes were wide, pupils dark and full of want. He didn’t see any hesitation, only heat, and his resolve slipped.One kiss.He let her breath slip into his mouth, hot and moist, and he was lost, disoriented in a mixed fog of memories and unfulfilled fantasies.

With a slight jerk, his extended arm relaxed, allowing Laney to crawl back on his lap, straddling his hips this time, and she looked down at his erection with a smirk. “I knew you didn’t want me to stop.”

“Wanting you to stop and knowing you should are two different things. Hell no, I don’t want you to stop.” He dragged a ragged breath into his chest and ran his hands down the sides of her body, squeezing her hips, tracing over her thighs and then up again, harder this time, sliding his palms under her sweater and over a thin cotton tank top hiding underneath. “But I don’t want you to hate me either.”

“I’m not an innocent college kid anymore, Kyle.” She wiggled her hips, trying to slide closer to the bulge in his jeans. “I like sex. You make me think of sex. I’m all fired up from fighting. Let’s go.”

It should have been an ardour-dousing wakeup call, the casual offer of something that was once so special to her, to them. The higher-thinking part of his brain was protesting that something was wrong, that Laney couldn’t possibly want a booty call, but all Kyle could focus on was the easy confidence that she had gained, how she must have gained it, and his primal need to re-possess that which he had lost took over. He could hear raspy need in his voice and he didn’t care. “Now it’s your turn to tell me to stop, sweetheart.”

Want to see one more sneak peek? Excerpt #3 is now live!

Excerpt is from the Advanced Review Copy; this text may vary from the final published book

The post What Once Was Perfect (Wardham Book No. 1) Excerpt #2 appeared first on Zoe York.

This what cycled on my iTunes while I wrote Laney and Kyle’s story:

The Band Perry – Done

Eric Church – Springsteen

Gloriana – Can’t Shake You

Brad Paisley & Carrie Underwood – Remind Me

Kenny Chesney – Come Over

Jake Owen – Don’t Think I Can’t Love You

Luke Bryan – Drunk on You

Faith Hill – Breathe

Alan Jackson – Remember When

Chris Young – Gettin’ You Home (The Black Dress Song)

Zac Brown Band – Whatever It Is

Lee Brice – Love Like Crazy

The post What Once Was Perfect – the playlist appeared first on Zoe York.

Laney inched her car forward. She’d made it to Detroit without hitting much traffic, but there was always a bit of a line at the border. Bright lights flooded the concrete area around the toll booths, obscuring the rise of the Ambassador Bridge against the early dawn sky. She counted the coins she needed again, knowing she had the right amount but indulging her obsessive nature because no one was there to make fun of her. As the truck in front of her eased past the toll booth onto the bridge, she rolled down her window. This routine was familiar, if not comfortable. Heading home always brought up conflicting emotions. On the other side of the bridge lay the university. She could already feel the pang of regret that would lance through her gut as she drove past, an unavoidable reaction to a place so tied up in her memories of Kyle. The library. Their favourite Italian restaurant just off-campus. A few blocks further, and she’d pass his first apartment. It would have been her first home away from the farm if things had worked out differently.

She’d only seen Kyle once in the last decade, at her father’s funeral. Ten years had hardened her heart enough that she was able to shake his hand and ignore the liquid warmth that slithered up her arm, hear his words of condolences and pretend they wouldn’t ring in her ears for hours after. He stood in front of her in the church basement for a few extra moments, the line of community members paused behind him, and for a moment she thought he would say something else, but then he shook his head and moved on to give her mother a quick hug and repeat the same generic platitudes. By the time the receiving line had dwindled, he was gone. It was for the best, she had reminded herself at the time. No point in picking at old wounds.

 

The delay wasn’t significant on the other side of the bridge.Within minutes, she had pulled up to the Canadian border crossing and was handing over her identification to the guard in the booth.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m a Canadian citizen living and working in Chicago.”

“Do you have any alcohol or cigarettes in the car?”

“One bottle of champagne.”

“Anything else to declare?”

“No.”

“Welcome home.” The border guard passed back her passport and waved her on.

For better or worse, Laney thought.

 

Traffic thinned and the first rays of a winter sun appeared on the horizon. In her rear view mirror, Windsor and the United States behind it were still dark with night. On either side of the highway, drifts of snow spotted the fields. Lights flicked on in barns and farmhouses, and Laney kept her eyes peeled for suicidal deer as she passed the occasional stand of trees. Fifteen minutes down the highway she took the bypass to the exit for Wardham, and despite her previous reservations, she smiled. Essex County would forever be home in her heart.

Three side roads zipped past before the home stretch. She knew this road well. The next farm belonged to the Frids, the one after that to the De Limas. The old school house on the corner had been an artist’s retreat the last time she was home, but the sign was gone now. If she kept driving straight, she’d soon be in town, all six streets of it, then catch a first glimpse of Lake Erie. She used to love the town beach, calm water stretching out as far as the eye can see. As she did every time she visited, however, she turned left on Concession Road 2. She only came home to visit her family, and probably wouldn’t leave the farm until she left again for Chicago.

There, on top of a slight rise, was Evening Lane Farm. Her parents had liked to tell people that they’d named it after their daughters, but Laney and Evie knew it was the other way around. They didn’t mind. The farm was beautiful, the long lane lined with oak trees leading to a gabled yellow brick house, the pastures to the east and west neatly squared off with white fence. A wide lawn stretched between the house and the two barns farther back, and the gravel drive continued past it, disappearing behind the larger barn, all the way to the bush. Her dad had loved taking them out on the wagon to choose a Christmas tree. Last year they’d picked one up at the grocery store in town.Last year, she’d only come home for two days.

Excerpt is from the Advanced Review Copy; this text may vary from the final published book

The post What Once Was Perfect (Wardham Book No. 1) Excerpt #1 appeared first on Zoe York.