It’s LIVE!!!

Today is the day! The Fragile Line, Part One is available NOW!  I can’t wait for you to get to know Chloe and Matt…I had so much fun writing them!  Below is a little teaser from Chloe, and keep scrolling down to hear from Matt.  Yep, this book is told from both of their POV’s!  (Then, keep on a-scrollin’ for the giveaway).


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Synopsis

Recommended for ages 18+ due to strong language and sexual content.

Chloe McCarthy thought she had found the perfect guy.  Someone just as detached as she was when it came to love and commitment.  Someone who never pressured her for more than just sex.  But when she gets a little too comfortable with their arrangement, and he rejects her for someone else, it triggers heartbreaking memories that leave her questioning her resolve for a commitment-free life.  In a moment of self-pity, she calls on the one person who she knows will make her smile.

Matt Langston lives a drama-free life, and he wants to keep it that way.  Chloe McCarthy?   All drama.  Which is why he needs to stay away from her.  A mechanic by day and bouncer by night, he tries to focus on work, but the more he tries, the more she creeps into his thoughts and his dreams, until he realizes that he needs to get her out of his system once and for all.

The Fragile Line is a spin-off to The Fine Line, told in an addicting three-part romance novella series, with each part building on the last.  The series may be read alone, however, reading The Fine Line first will provide a further introduction to the characters which may enhance the overall reading experience.

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To celebrate the release, I’m holding a giveaway!  Click on the graphic below to enter to win a $10 Amazon Giftcard!

Keep reading for an excerpt!

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And if you read this book and like it, please consider leaving a review on Amazon and Goodreads.  Even if it’s just a sentence or two!  Reviews are the framework to an author’s success!

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Excerpt from Chapter Six:

“Is it everything you hoped it would be?”  Chloe asked, as I took a bite of the most delicious bread I have ever tasted.

This bread was so good that the garlicy, buttery, orgasmic masterpiece of flavor in my mouth forced a long moan out of my throat.  “Oh, yeah.”  I mumbled with the bread still in my cheek.  “This is fucking incredible.”

The dark wooden table of our window booth was dimly lit by an overhanging lamp with a red shade.  For a small restaurant, Ricci’s had an inviting, casual atmosphere complete with old-time Italian music.  At this time of night, there were only a few other diners scattered about.  I would imagine the place would be closing up soon for the evening.

She leaned in and whispered, “What if I told you I know how to make it?”

That caught my attention…enough to stop chewing.  “Don’t tease me, woman.”

She leaned back and huffed in exasperation. “God, why are you so macho?  The name’s Chloe.  CH-L-O-EEE.”

I chuckled.  “If you say so.  I’ve gotta hear this.  How do you know how to make the bread?”

“I dated one of the cooks when I worked here.” She shrugged and took a bite of bread.

Should’ve known that.  But really?  Was that all she was going to give me?  “And…did the recipe just osmose from his brain to yours on a date?”

She gave me the stink eye.  “I told him I’d only go out with him if he gave me the recipe.  So he did.  And we went on a date.  And that was it.”

“Lemme guess.  He wasn’t your type.”

She shook her head.  “I don’t really have a type.  I like variety.”

I nodded with raised brows, keeping my mouth shut about the fact that she just fed into her promiscuous reputation.  Was she doing it on purpose?  Did she actually want people to think she was easy?  She seemed okay tonight.  Why did part of me want to believe her rep was BS?

“What about you?” she asked.  “How come I never see you with any girls?”

“I could ask you the same thing.  Why no steady boyfriend?  You’re sexy as hell.  If you dropped the bitch act, you could easily land some dude if you wanted to.”

There went my word vomit.  So much for keeping my mouth shut.  Luckily, she didn’t seem offended this time.

Instead, she forced out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, just not the one I want.”

I cocked a brow.

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her lemonade.

“Maybe it’s not an act,” she continued.

I nodded in thought.  “Or, maybe it is.  You seem pretty cool now.  Not clingy or—” What’s a nice way to say ‘easy’? “—overly accessible.  It’s a nice change.  You should do it more often.”

Her face scrunched up.  “Maybe I just don’t like you.”

“Or.  Maybe you like me more than you think.”  I winked.

The waiter came with our plates, a Sirloin Marsala for me and a spaghetti with meatballs for her.  After grating Parmesan cheese over her plate, he asked the typical waiter question, “Is there anything else I can get for you two?”

I answered instantly, “More bread.”

The kid, who must’ve been fifteen or sixteen, eyed our full basket of bread, then looked back at me with a quizzical look on his face which kind of pissed me off.  I mean, I would’ve eaten it all up already if he wouldn’t have been so quick with our meals.  And I wanted leftovers.

“Please,” I said calmly.

“O…kay?  I’ll be back with that in a minute.”

Dipshit.

The steak was even better than the bread.  It literally melted in my mouth.  Chloe laughed when I moaned again at the taste, and I smiled, knowing that my mission for the night had just been accomplished.

We savored our meals quietly for a few minutes before she broke the silence, continuing our conversation.  “Maybe I’m not interested in anything serious with anyone.  Maybe taking what I want and being…less than nice…is the best way to make sure they don’t get all googly with me.”

“What the hell does ‘googly’ mean?”

“Come on, you know.”

I shook my head no.

“It’s the lovey-dovey look in someone’s eyes.  Whether it’s a boy or girl, man or woman, we all do it.  It’s the way someone looks at you when they want you to think they’re falling for you.  They look at you with ‘googly-eyes.’”

“Ha!  You seem like an expert.  Maybe your nickname should be ‘heartbreaker.’”

“Yeah, right.  I’ve only gotten that look from one person.  And I’m not the one who did the heart breaking in that situation.”

I nodded in understanding.  It couldn’t have been Logan.  He’s never felt that way about her.  My curiosity piqued.  “First love?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

She continued stuffing spaghetti into her face as if this conversation were over.  I cleared my throat to get her attention.  It worked because she looked up from her plate with a WTF look.  “Go on, Pink, spill it.  You know you want to.”

She laughed again.  Just a small one, but a laugh nonetheless.  It took her another moment before she finally started to talk.

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Review: Lovely Vicious

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Synopsis: 

Seventeen-year-old Isis Blake hasn’t fallen in love in three years, nine weeks, and five days, and after what happened last time, she intends to keep it that way. Since then she’s lost eighty-five pounds, gotten four streaks of purple in her hair, and moved to the Buttcrack-of-Nowhere Ohio to help her mom escape a bad relationship.

All the girls in her new school want one thing – Jack Hunter, the Ice Prince of East Summit High. Hot as an Armani ad, smart enough to get into Yale, and colder than the Arctic, Jack Hunter’s never gone out with anyone. Sure, people have seen him downtown with beautiful women, but he’s never given high school girls the time of day. Until Isis punches him in the face.

Jack’s met his match. Suddenly everything is a game.

The goal: Make the other beg for mercy.

The game board: East Summit High.

The reward: Something neither of them expected.

**This book contains language, some of which may be unsuitable for younger readers.

MY REVIEW

I’ve never written a book review before.  This is my first.  Hopefully I can make it sound intelligent.

Why now?  Why the need to express my feelings of this particular book through the written word—when I’ve never felt the need to do so before?  Well, let me tell you…

Lovely Vicious contains some of the wittiest, can’t-stop-reading, most lol-inducing writing that I’ve experienced in a very long time.

Reflecting on this story made me realize something (many things) about what actually makes a good book.  For me, it’s not whether the characters make the choices that I would make.  Let’s face it, I’m 36 and it can sometimes be hard for me to relate to the actions or feelings of a teenager.  But that did not stop me from loving this book.

It’s about the writing.  The absolute best part of Lovely Vicious was the dialogue.  If for no other reason at all, read this book for the clever one liners and witty banter.  The original humor in this story will have you laughing throughout.

It’s about getting lost in the pages and forgetting everything that’s going on in real life because I want to find out what the characters are going to do (or say) next.  I had a hard time putting Lovely Vicious down.  I had to force myself when it got too late and I had to get up super early the next morning.  When I wasn’t reveling in the creative dialogue and inner monologues of Isis Blake, I was basking in the angst of it all.  Why does Jake do what he does?  Why is he the way he is?  When will they stop trying to hurt each other?!  All are questions that forced me to keep reading.

It’s about living vividly through the eyes of a character whose motives I may or may not fully understand.  Whether or not I accept a character’s choices doesn’t matter because in life, a single event could affect each of us in a different way.  Who am I to judge?  I go into a story hoping to enjoy it.  And how can I fully enjoy a story if I am judging the characters choices, or the authenticity of a scene?  I like to just roll with it and let the author take me on a ride.  When the writing is good like it is in this book, the ride is outstanding.

It’s about accepting the book and its characters for what/who they are.  Everyone has had their heart broken in one way or another.  Do we all react in the same way that Isis did?  Of course not.  Most of us internalize the wounds, pushing the pain deep inside while pretending to be fine on the outside.  But not Isis.  She started a war.  Instead of being passive, or passive-aggressive when it came to love, she got aggressive-aggressive.  Closed off, yes, but in a completely different way than most.  In a vicious-mean kind of way with someone just as vicious.  And that’s what makes their story so interesting.

It’s about the feeling I get when I read.  This book made me happy (sometimes giddy).  And frustrated.  And scared and sometimes sad.  Isn’t that the best thing about reading?  FEELING things?  For me it is.  And this book made me feel lots of things.

Sara Wolf, you have nailed it.  Can’t wait to read book 2.

Five (out of five) Stars

Here’s What’s Happening

Guess what?  It’s been a while since I published The Fine Line and I do not have another book out yet!  Oh dear…that totally sucks because more books mean more exposure and anyone will tell you that one of the best things you can do to market your book…is to write more books.

So…why don’t I have another book out yet?

If you’ve read my past blog posts, you know that I had an incredibly fun time writing my first book last year.  I obtained a new-found passion in writing that I never knew I had and I really, truly enjoyed every moment of creating The Fine Line.  I loved it so much that I decided to try my hand at self-publishing.  And my oh my, what a roller-coaster ride it’s been!

I never expected to feel such amazing highs from comments like these:  A-freaking fantastic read, I have found another author to add to my stalker list..eeeeekkkkk :)” ~Endless Reading, or this: “For a debut novel, THIS IS REALLY AMAZING! ” ~Boekies’ Book Reviews, or this: “Whew! I finished the book and immediately went into this review because it left such a huge impact on me.” ~Itching for Books Blog, or this: “Here’s hoping that more books like this one will be written, cause if so, then the indie world just got that much better.” ~Book Reader Chronicles

Nor did I expect to feel so purely devastated from comments like these: “There is a long and tiring road ahead of you Mrs. Kobishop if you are to become a best-selling author who writes gripping, realistic and outstanding romance novels.” or this: I’m really sorry to say this but…if you don’t have any good ideas of your own then don’t write a book in the first place.” 

Talk about total opposite ends of the spectrum!  Sheesh!

What really surprised me, though, was how I became so thoroughly paralyzed by the opinions of others.  I thought I was tougher than that.  I mean, I’ve always cared about what others think…to a point…but I never let it stop me from doing what I want to do.  Never.

Here’s the truth:  I’ve had TONS of new book ideas since finishing The Fine Line.  And I’ve even started writing a few of these stories that have been prancing around in my mind.  But every time I start, a little voice inside my head says this: “What if it’s too cliche’? What if it’s not what readers are looking for?  What if it’s been done before?  What if that’s not where the book market is headed?  What if it totally sucks?”   So then I stop writing and move onto another idea, and repeat the cycle.

This is not a good routine for creativity OR productivity.  Not good at all.  How can I be creative when I have such a thick filter?  Well–I can’t.  The thing is, writing is in my blood now, and being productive is important if I want to advance my writing career!  I’m constantly daydreaming of new stories and it pains me not to get them out onto paper.

So, I’d like to publicly tell my inner critic to shut up.  There.  Done.  Consider my inner critic utterly squished.  Let’s just hope she doesn’t rise from the dead.

As far as my haters go…I’ll listen to my husband on that one.  He says, “Haters be hating.”  I’m not really sure what he means by that short little phrase, but I’ll take a guess and say it means I should just ignore them.  Because:

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After all, haters come with the territory, or so I’ve heard.  Maybe I’ll ignore Goodreads for a while, too.

The bottom line, and the reason for this post, is to say that writing is extremely important to me, and I’m ready to continue my journey as an author.

NOW FOR SOME BOOK NEWS!  

I have just started outlining a story that I have some incredibly good feelings about.  It’s one of the two stories that keep popping into my head–regardless of my inner critic.  You may love it, you may hate it, but I’m sure as heck writing it.

I’m not sure how long it will take me to complete it, which means I can’t give you a definite release date, or a guaranteed time frame, but I’m sure hoping it’ll be ready to be published by the end of the year (2014).  I will post frequent updates here, on Facebook, and/or on Twitter to keep you all in the loop!

 

 

Thank You…

I just want to say a quick “thank you” to everyone who has read my book!  My biggest fear going into self-publishing was that my writing would not be up to par because of my lack of experience. I had never actually written anything (other than work emails and letters) prior to starting The Fine Line, therefore it’s success was a complete shot-in-the-dark.

What I have been hearing from the reviews is that readers actually think my writing style is pretty good! Even the reviews that are not-so-fabulous say that the writing is good. I’m honestly a bit shocked and incredibly delighted by that! My biggest concern…the writing…has actually been validated and for that I am so very grateful.

Thank you to all the readers, bloggers, and reviewers who have read, reviewed, or helped in spreading the word about my unknown novel! You have all played a huge part in the success of my book. Your praise and constructive criticism have been taken deeply to heart and I plan on using the feedback to make my next work even better! A million times…thank you.  🙂 

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Prologue and Giveaway!

(THIS CONTEST HAS ENDED AS OF 12AM FEB 10TH)

Today, I feel like doing a giveaway.  I have gotten such positive feedback from readers and I feel truly blessed that so many people have given The Fine Line a chance!  To say thanks, I’m giving away a signed paperback copy of the book.  If you haven’t read it yet, check out the sample below!

WordPress is funny which means the rafflecopter widget does not show up in wordpress.

Click here–> a Rafflecopter giveaway to enter the giveaway.

The Fine Line

What’s it about?  The Fine line is a coming of age story about a girl with a jaded past, who has written off relationships for good.  Boys are fun, but she’s happy being single and independent, and is determined to keep it that way.  When she meets and forms an unexpected bond with Logan Tanner, an illegal street racer with his own trust issues, she begins to question everything she thought she knew about life, and love, and asks the question: Can love have a future?  Or is history destined to repeat itself?

~Click here to see The Fine Line on Goodreads
~Purchase Links:  AmazonB&NiBookstoreKOBOSmashwords
~Author links: FacebookTwitterGoodreads

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Prologue

Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves.  I learned a long time ago that preserving one’s heart means keeping it protected.  Sheltered.  My heart is hidden deep within the secure layers of my soul, where it rests easy with the knowledge that nothing can penetrate its everlasting impervious shell.

Twelve Years Ago

Yelling.  Always yelling.  The hardwood floor in my bedroom chilled my toes as I slid out of my bed to see what was going on.  I wouldn’t dare leave my room, though.  I knew better.  As I tip-toed to the bright crack in the door, something crashed to pieces, and I squeezed Mama Bear tight.

Is Mommy crying?

My hand found a place on the cool metal door knob as I peeked through the crack.  I brought Mama Bear up to my chin so she could see too.  Her soft, fuzzy fur tickled me.  Mommy sat on the floor with her back against the hallway wall, her head in her hands while Daddy stood tall above her.  Her shoulders lifted up and down as she wept.

No, Mommy, don’t cry!

“I want a divorce,” she whispered.

What was a divorce?  Whatever it was, Daddy didn’t seem too happy about it.  He crouched down so that his eyes were across from hers.  Fisting her t-shirt, he yanked her close to him.  With the other hand, he pointed his finger at her, jabbing her as he spoke.  His voice stayed quiet, and I couldn’t hear what he said, but I knew it was something scary.

The door knob made a noise as I accidentally let go of it, and both of their heads turned to look at me.  My eyes widened, and I gasped.  I ran back to bed as fast as I could, quickly covering myself in my blankie.  Oh no, I dropped Mama Bear!  My door creaked as it opened, and light came through the seams of my blankie.

“Olivia?” Daddy said softly.

I didn’t answer.  Mommy was always telling me to make smart choices.  I chose to stay perfectly still and not to breathe too loudly, but it wasn’t easy because my heart was pounding hard.  It was a smart choice, though, because after a few seconds, the door creaked closed. I was safe.  Mommy would be very proud of me.

I peered at the floor, searching for Mama Bear, but she was nowhere to be seen.  Daddy must’ve taken her.  Who’s gonna sleep with me?  I pulled my knees to my chest and held onto them tightly.  Mommy says I’m brave.  Brave girls don’t need silly toys.  Brave girls sleep by themselves.

Eight Years Ago

It’s been a year since Dad told me I wouldn’t be able to spend time at his house anymore.  He said he was leaving to get a new start.  At first, his emails came daily and postcards came weekly, but I haven’t gotten either for at least a month.  Mom says he’s moved on, with his new wife and baby, and that it’s the best thing for all of us.

I was glad to have Kevin.  He loved me and Mom.  Happiness didn’t even begin to describe how I felt when Mom told me he was moving in with us.  If he lived with us, it would mean I would get to see magic tricks and laugh at his stories every day.

Mom told me about the accident last week.  Kevin had gotten hit by a drunk driver.  I knew something was wrong when she dropped the phone on the floor and began sobbing.  I had seen her cry before—but never like that.

I stayed with Nana for five days after that call, and when I returned home, Mom took me into my room, sat me down on my bed, and broke the news.  The funeral service had been the prior day.  Mom thought it would be best if I didn’t attend because it would be too difficult for me.  I cried myself to sleep that night.  I couldn’t get the thought of Kevin, being buried deep in the ground, out of my mind.

The next morning, I thought a lot about the way things work, and I figured out that nothing’s forever.  Nothing.  I had to be strong.  Brave.  I hated being sad.  I hated crying.  I vowed to find a way to make sure I never felt this horrendous feeling ever again.

Three Years Ago 

I looked around our heated garage as Adam poured the amber liquid into our little glasses.   All the tool chests and auto supplies had been packed up and hauled out.  He filled his glass to the brim while mine was only filled a quarter of the way.  He said I couldn’t have a full glass because I was only fourteen.

Hanging out with Adam came naturally.  It was easy.  He was much younger than Mom, but I was under the misguided impression that they were in love, regardless of his age.

Normally, the whiskey we shared was in celebration of an accomplishment.  A new paint job, installing the new engine, fixing the interior.  I had spent most of my evenings and weekends for the last three years watching Adam restore his 1968 Pontiac GTO.  He bragged to people about how much I helped him, but really, I just watched him work and handed him tools as we talked.

Today, we toasted goodbye.  It would be the last time I’d ever see him.  My throat burned as the liquor flowed down it, but I welcomed the feeling.  It reminded me of good times.

“I’m gonna miss you, Sweetie,” he said with tears in his eyes.  “I asked her to marry me, you know.  She said no.”

Anger quickly flooded my system, washing away the heartbreak.  How could she say no?  It had taken me over two years to let my guard down around him.  Two years to break the vow that I had kept for so long and let myself feel again.  She was making him go away.  This was her fault.

I watched as Adam rolled his refurbished car down the driveway and out of my life.  Without thought, my body stormed into the house in search of my mother.  I found her staring blankly out the living room window.

“How could you say no?” I screamed.

“Livie, what are you talking about?”

“He told me, Mom!  He told me he asked you to marry him!”

Her shoulders sunk as she let out a breath.  Her expression turned angry.  “Did he tell you he was seeing another woman?  Did he tell you that he asked me to marry him only after I found out?”

My heart stopped.  My mind barely comprehended what my mother had just told me.  It couldn’t be true.  Adam loved us.  With regret in her eyes, she rushed toward me with open arms.

“No.”  I held out my hand.  “NO!”  Tears spilled out of my eyes as I ran to my bedroom, locked my door, and flopped belly down onto my bed, sobbing uncontrollably into my pillow.

Why does everyone I love have to leave? 

Never again.  I’m done.  This is the last time I will ever have this feeling.

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