Staten Island bound for #TNTNYC2022 some tips on #booksigning etiquette, sales, & Covid

Tomorrow I’m off to Staten Island, NY – my old hometown – for the #TNTNYC2022 event. It’s my first time at this event and from what I’ve been reading and viewing online and on FB, it’s a raucous, fun, and busy few days.

After doing so many booksignings and author events over the years, I’ve seen a lot of varying behaviors from authors that sometimes make me cringe, sometimes make me smile, and sometimes allows me to learn from.

Case in point. This is an event where the author is promoting herself and her books. In layman’s terms – sales! You want people to discover you as an author and, hopefully, buy your book, love it, tell all their friends to get it too, and then preorder all your upcoming ones and read all your backlist ones.

That’s the goal.

To do that the author has to be engaging, willing to step out of her comfort zone to meet new people, and basically, put herself “out there.”

SInce writing is, for the most part, a solitary endeavor, many authors are not really “people” people. I’ve frequently seen authors at signings sit behind their tables, looking down at their phones, or gazing about at the other tables, readers, etc, never making eye contact or even smiling at people walking by their own table. They look uncomfortable, anxious, and – in my opinion – rude. Like they don’t have the wherewithal to be there, be present, and engage.

How do you expect to sell books? Granted, some writers are bestselling authors and people already know their name and come to these kinds of events simply to meet them and get a signed copy of the lastest book. Yippie for them.

I’m not that author.

Seven years in and I’m still building my brand, my writing reputation, and my readership, so I have to do whatever it takes for that to happen.

That includes being the first to talk to someone passing by my table, saying good morning, or how are you doing? What do you like to read? Nine times out of ten the person doesn’t read what I write, but at least I’ve made the effort to find out about her. Maybe her mom reads my kinds of books and that sparks the idea to buy one for her as a present.

Since Covid hit people have tended to hermit themselves – understandable, right? Prior to the pandemic I spent all my days home alone writing, never seeing people on a daily or even weekly basis, and working at my craft. I was one of those writers who had no difficulty with being quarantined, LOL, since I was a hermit anyway. I wrote a lot. A LOT. But when the restrictions were lifted I needed to sell those books and events like TNTNYC are the perfect venue to do so.

So I stepped out of my house, put on my big-girl author panties and engaged with people I don’t know inorder to sell my books.

Is it hard? Hell yeah. I’d rather be home in my jammies with my glasses on and no makeup on my face, then dressed and putting the PEGGY on for the public. But I do it, despite the nerves bounding inside me.

I am not a natural born salesperson. I would never have been hired by a circus to be the barker, the out-front man to lure people in. What I do have a gift for is making people laugh, so I use that wierd sense of humor to pull people in, make them feel comfortable talking to me about any topic, and then hoping they will want to read one of my books after that.

If you are a reader/book buyer at these kinds of events you are looking for several things:

~new authors to read/meet/and get to know

~Swag/freebies/candy (!)

~books

~fun

You are not looking for sullen or sad looking authors to talk to or try to bring out of their shell.

On the other hand, readers also don’t want an author to hound them. I never outright say BUY MY BOOK! As I’ve said, I’ll ask what they read, then either say, I write that or I don’t. And then I take it a step further and ask if they know anyone who reads the kinds of books I write – steamy romcoms, romantic suspense, smalltown, friends to lovers, and sometimes sweet romances. That’s a big list. And usually they discover that they do, indeed, read something like I write.

It’s all in the pitch, the sale, and the engagement.

Oh, and the visuals. This is my standup banner that I bring with me. Vibrant color and my brand. It’s an eyecatcher to be sure.

Another thing I find absolutley rude/annoying/irritating is authors who sit behind their table and never come out from behind it.

I rarely ever sit down. When I do it’s usually inroder to autograph a book because doing so standing is hard for me. I am always, always, standing. Either in front of my table, next to my banner, or behind it.

Was does sitting behavior annoy me so much? For one thing because the author is putting a physical barrier between them and the person stopping by their table. For another, it’s simply rude to have people talk “down” to you. Stand up! Put yourself on equal footing with the reader.

When someone comes to your house to visit do you stay seated in a chair, let them make their own way into the house and then never rise to greet them? If you do, I’m never coming to visit you.

It’s the same at booksignings. Get up. Stand up. Shake someone’s hand, or accept a hug. Let them take a picture with you. Be nice and open not rude and closed off.

I feel like I’ve been lecturing, and maybe I have. BUt sometimes it pays to say the things that people (Authors) don’t want to hear.

So, lecture over. I am going to pack all my stuff – books, swag, preorders, and that banner!

See you at #TNTNYC2022. I’ll be the curly haired, bottle blonde standing and talking in front of her table with the big, loud, Pink banner!!!

~ Peg

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Photo of the day, day 286

Preorders for an upcoming booksigning! I love PREORDERS!!!

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Photo of the day, day 285

Got my 2023 calendar!

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#teasertuesday Return to Dickens for Christmas; SASHA’S SECRET SANTA 11.7.2022; #preorder

Today’s #TeaserTuesday is from my upcoming Dickens Holiday Romance SASHA’S SECRET SANTA ( Dorrit’s Diner).

The character of Amy Dorrit (Charles) is fascinating for so many reasons, but the main one for me is how she loves her 3 adoptive kids and how strongly she protects them. She also doesn’t suffer fools and calls it like she sees it, evident in this scene. She’s found a distraught Sasha crying in her apartment and after listening to the reason why, she…well, she acts like a mom who lays it on the line.

Enjoy.

After several minutes of Amy rocking and cooing to her, Sasha shifted, her tears finally starting to abate.

“I won’t ask if you feel better,” Amy said as she cupped her daughter’s chin and rubbed her thumbs across her cheeks. “A cry like that one serves the purpose of emotionally cleansing and physically exhausting a body.”

“I think I’m more exhausted than cleansed,” Sasha said, swiping her sleeve under her nose. “And now I’ve got a headache to add to it, to boot.”

With a shake of her head, Amy leaned forward and kissed Sasha’s forehead.

“Why are you home so early? I thought you were going to take the entire day to shop.”

“Took most of it.” Amy lifted a shoulder and added, “When we were done, we were done.”

“Most of the day? What time is it?” Sasha asked.

“Half-past three.”

“Oh, God. I told everyone I was only taking a few minutes and it’s been three hours. I need to get downstairs.” She tried to stand but Amy held her back.

“The diner’s fine, baby girl. The girls and Chet have been taking care of things just fine. You sit back down and tell me what got you to blubbering.”

“I need a glass of water, first.” Once Amy let her stand, Sasha filled a glass and downed it in one long draught. After that she ran cold water over her face, knowing she must look like a swollen, red-splotched mess.

Done, she plopped down next to her mother, dragged in several deep, weary breaths, and told her all about her relationship with Steve Caldwell, ending with the conversation she’d had with Kane.

“I should have trusted my instincts,” she said once she was done, the tears spent, and her voice tired. “They told me from the get-go he was only interested in me because he wanted me for the hospital.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” Amy said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you every time he comes into the diner. The man is smitten.”

Sasha rubbed her nose, then shook her head. “If he’s smitten it’s with my skills as a nurse, not as,” she blushed, “a woman or anything else.”

“I don’t like repeating myself, but I’m really not sure that’s true, baby girl.”

On the end of a sigh sewn together with exhaustion and a strangled ache, Sasha said, “It’s true enough, mom. He didn’t deny it when I confronted him.”

“Did you give him a chance to? Or did you steamroll right over him like you always do when you want to make a point?

Surprised, Sasha said, “I don’t do that.”

Amy’s brows took a steady climb toward her hairline. When they arrived and settled, her eyes opened wide and she regarded her daughter with an expression Sasha had seen dozens of times during her childhood. A don’t even think about bullshitting me glower that made the person – or child – being glared at confess any and all infractions they’d committed

That the look could still make her crumble at the age of thirty-four like an unbalanced house of cards was worrisome.

And annoying.

“I don’t.”

“Really? I can give you chapter, book, and verse on any number of times you’ve done it in your life. You’ve always been like that, baby girl. Always need to have the last word in an argument; always need to get your point across before anyone else can make theirs.”

Amy’s words stung. So much so, tears started to swell in Sasha’s eyes again. Angrily, she batted them away with her lashes.

Her mother’s expression softened. “Look, sweetie. I’m not saying it to make you upset, just to point out that you have a…tendency we’ll say, not to listen to the other person during an argument when you think you’re in the right.”

“I am in the right about this, mom. Steve was just buttering me up before asking me to work for the hospital. Kane all but proved it.”

Amy’s thin-lipped glare told her daughter exactly what she thought about Kane Barclay and his declaration.

“I know you’ve never liked him,” Sasha said. Before she could continue, though,  her mother cut her off.

“I don’t dislike him,” she said. “But he has a habit of embellishing any story he’s telling to garner more attention for himself. He was always that way as a kid and hasn’t changed much as an adult.”

Sasha waved a hand in the air with a careless flitter. “History aside, this time he didn’t embellish, just told me straight out what he’d overheard.”

“You should know better than to believe any info given to you second-hand like that, Sasha Charles.”

A sudden stab of unease speared through her. Was her mother right? Should she have regarded Kane’s declaration warily?

Intrigued? I hope so, LOL

You can preorder the book here and have it delivered to your Kindle on 11.7.2022 on release day. Or, the paperback version is available right now!

Happy pre-holidays, folks! Peg

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Photo of the day, day 284

the dam is a little choppy this morning.

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Photo of the day, day 283

I love our New England fall colors!

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#SundaySnippet The New York Socialites – BALANCE #romcom #NYCromance

the third book in The New York Socialites Series, BALANCE, is my little gift to you today.

She’s a wealthy socialite who survived an abusive marriage.
He’s a hardworking guy raising his son and caring for his widowed father.
They come from different worlds, but it’s said…opposites attract.
Can they find the balance between their two lifestyles to make their love work?
Or will their differences tear them apart?

Life and love are a balancing act.

ENJOY….

Joe enveloped me in a full-body hug, told me he enjoyed meeting and chatting with me, then made me promise I wouldn’t be “a stranger.” I assured him I wouldn’t.

Once we were outside the building, Derek said, “He liked you.”

Cockily, I replied, “Of course he did. What’s not to like?”

He grinned, said, “Not a damn thing,” then swooped me into his arms and pulled me against him. “I wanted to do this in the kitchen but…David.” He shook his head.

I had a pretty good idea what he meant, but asked anyway, “Do what?” while I leaned into his hard body and wrapped my hands around his waist.

With the half grin that made me lose the will to stand upright, he nuzzled the side of my nose with his own. “This.”

Soft and sweet, a simple swipe of his mouth against mine, the kiss was as chaste as could be.

Why I went numb from my knees downward was inexplicable, then. My grip around his waist tightened as I fell into his body for support to keep upright.

A deep moan welled up from him, a soul-tugging sigh with it,  and he deepened the kiss as he dipped me backward over his arm.

I held on for dear life.

Okay, that, and because he felt so damn good. I’d have been a fool not to enjoy all the hard, lean muscle pressing against me now, wouldn’t I?

Mr. and Mrs. Doubletree of the Manhattan Doubletrees didn’t raise a fool.

“I’ve wanted to do this,” he whispered against my cheek, “ever since that day at the women’s center.”

I shifted until his lips were against my temple. “Why?”

“You mean aside from the way my heart rate kicks up whenever I look at you?”

Pleasure rippled through me.

“When you told me about being recently divorced you looked so…lost and fragile.”

A caustic laugh barked from me. “Two words no one has ever used to describe me are lost and fragile.”

He pulled back and cupped my cheeks. Kindness filled his eyes and I got lost in them. “I think you do a good job of hiding it, but you’ve been hurt. Deeply hurt.”

I rolled a shoulder. “No divorce is ever really amicable.”

Especially when your testimony puts your ex behind bars.

“Some hurt is expected,” I added.

He nodded. “All I wanted to do was pull you into my arms and kiss all the bad stuff away.”

For some reason I didn’t want him to know how his words touched me. My experience with my ex-husband had made me hyper-cautious and unwilling to share any weakness for fear it would be exploited. So, I fell back on past behavior and gave him an old, snarky Phil response to mask the emotions running rampant through me.

“I think that’s your medical brain talking. You see someone you think is hurting and you want to heal them, kiss it and make it all better.”

His grin grew slowly from one cheek to the other and I swear on Grannie Charlotte’s forty-inch string pearls I never wanted to look away.

“Well, the kissing part is true,” he said, bussing the tip of my nose. “But the reason behind it has nothing to do with the medical part of my brain. It has nothing to do with any part of my…brain.”

Proof of that was pressing against my abdomen.

Universal Link: BALANCE

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Photo of the day, day 282

I buy her toys…this is what she does.

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Photo of the day, day 281

tired pup.

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Photo of the day, day 280

if you saw yesterday’s picture, you know why she’s sitting in front of the fridge looking at me pitifully. starving puppy!

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