Tag Archives: #amwriting

Photo of the day, day 263

Gearing up for 2023. As you can see…I’ll be busy.
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Reflections on a booksigning; #romanticon2022 #writerslife

If you follow this blog, you know yesterday I posted a picture taken of me at this past weekend’s ROMANTICON 2022 held in Trumbull, CT.

Driving home early Sunday morning I had private time to reflect on a few things about the event, and myself.

First, if you know anything about me you know I am basically a hermit. I have friends – I’m not a social pariah, hahaha -but I tend I stay home a lot, work on my writing, take care of my hubby and dog, and see my daughter and her family. I don’t PEOPLE well. Truthfully, I am a loner/hermit/introvert as many writers are. But when we do an event like a book signing, we have to BE ON. By that I mean we have to smile, engage readers, and generally make ourselves liked.

This is hard for me. So hard. I’d never make a salesperson. I’d be fired the first day because I simply can not sell anything. I never want to be bothered by salespeople when I shop ( which isn’t often) so I wouldn’t want to impose myself on others if the shoe were on the other foot. Having to hawk my books and myself is so alien a concept to me, it’s a wonder I sell anything at all. Luckily, I have a following and am told I can be engaging when I try. Which isn’t often, but necessary when it is.

So.

Enough about me.

The event is put on by writer Kitty Berry and she and her amazing corps of volunteers did a fantastic job. Everything moved swimmingly, door prizes were given out to the joy of many, the food at the brunch was good and the check-in table moved smoothly along.

All in all, a very professionally run event and one which I will return to next year.

Not only because of the readers but my fellow authors as well.

As authors, we do something most of our friends and family don’t do. Many times they don’t want to hear about the trouble we are having with our characters, or that we can’t get our word counts in because of disruptions. The only people who can relate to those lamentations are other writers because they are suffering through the same issues. In essence, they walk the walk and talk the talk of books, characters, marketing, sales slumps, and best sellers’ lists. So seeing so many of my writing friends after 2 years of covid isolation and cancellations was….amazing.

Truly.

It was life-affirming and career motivating. Just to be in a room with 50+ other people who do what I do and know what I go through each and every day was simply…gratifying. The readers were the cherry on top of that beautiful cake.

So, I’m back in my writing cave until the next event/book signing. I think I have 4 more this year. 2023 already has 6 booked with the option to do 2 more at least.

I’ll need to practice my social skills until then…

Happy reading, peeps. get those Summer reading lists moving (hopefully with a book or 2 from me!)

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Photo of the day, day 97

Working on the print proofs for the upcoming May and June releases.

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#KindleVella workshop reminder

Hey kids – just popping in to remind all you romance writers and RWA members that I’m presenting a workshop this Saturday on the RWA website for those of you who want to know about Kindle Vella.

Here’s the link to join – it’s $25 for RWA members and $ 50 for non. And you don’t have to write romance to join us. The KindleVella platform is open to all genres of fiction writing. : Kindleforbeginners

If you’ve been considering adding your work to this platform, this class is for you. I’ll tell you all the ins and outs to get your story uploaded and in front of new readers.

Hope to see you Saturday.

This is a Zoom workshop and the link will be sent to you if you register. The class is being recorded.

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Photo of the day, day 53

A bright full moon over the Freedom tower at 3 a.m.

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Photo of the day, day 52

Just because I’m visiting with my daughter for a few days, I still need to work!

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#SundaySnippet 2.6.2022

From MIX AND MATCH –

Will their friendship always be relegated to the friend zone?

They arrived at the diner in tandem. Always hearing his mother’s voice in his head, he held the door for her, then guided her to a booth along the back wall.

“Well, now, there’s two people I haven’t seen in a month of Sundays,” Ruthie Tewksberry, the owner, said when she spotted them. “I’ll be right over, kids.”

Jasmine slid into the booth, Donovan opposite her. Before they could settle, Ruthie made a beeline for them, two coffee mugs clasped in one had, a pot of coffee in the other.

Before he could even protest, she glanced down at him and said, “Don’t worry, I brought you a teabag and the water’s coming up.” She plopped the bag down next to him.

“Ah, Ruthie, darlin’, when are you gonna say yes and marry me?”

“When I get in a time machine and go back thirty years,” she quipped, making him laugh. “Don’t mind being called a cougar but I sure ain’t robbing any cradles. Jazz, how’s your mother doing?”

“Good. Working. What else?” She shrugged.

“Woman has more ambition than anyone I’ve ever seen.” She shook her head as she filled one of the mugs and placed it in front of Jasmine. “So, you two want to hear the specials, or do you know what you want already?”

Jasmine ordered her craving grilled cheese, while he went with a simple chicken burger.”

“Give me ten and I’ll have everything on the table. Here’s your water, Van.”

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “You’re a living saint among us mortals, Ruthie darlin’.”

“Oh, you.” A flush ran up her cheeks as she swiped a hand in the air at him, a huge grin on her face.

“I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen her blush before,” Jasmine told him once the woman had gone to place their order. “Do you do that intentionally or does it just come naturally to you?”

“Do what?”

“You know.” She waved a hand at him. “All that charming, flirting, full-on-accent stuff. Darlin’ this and love that.“

His grin started slowly at her attempt to mimic his accent. It was actually pretty good, he thought. Then it spread when the import of her words filtered through. “Ya think I’m charmin’, do ya?”

She tossed him an eye roll that should have looked comical but on her was as sexy as hell. “I said what you did was charming, not that you are.”

“Ah, Jasmine my love, you wound me to the quick, you do.” He made a show of placing both hands over his heart and attempting a pout. His reward for the ridiculous theatrics was her laugh, which came quick, free, and naturally.

“Now there’s a lovely sound,” he said gazing at her face.

She shook her head. Still smiling, she told him, “I truly don’t think you can help yourself.”

He shrugged. “It’s not a question of helping m’self or not. It’s just as easy to pay a compliment or give a kind word as it is an unkind one. And it makes me feel good to know I’ve been able to put a smile on someone’s face from something I’ve said.”

He couldn’t decipher the expression on hers as she regarded him across the table. Before he could ask about it she said, “Did Olivia call you after”—she lowered her voice—“our date?”

“Aye, she did. First thing the next morning. Did she call you?”

“No, which is weird. She usually checks in right away.” Her brows knit together. “What did you tell her?”

He was prevented from answering right away as Ruthie delivered their food.

“You need anything else, give a holler,” she told them.

Once they were alone again he said, “The truth. The evening was pleasant, you were a lovely woman and I enjoyed getting to know you a bit, but you didn’t think we were well matched.”

“You agreed,” she said, a tad defensively.

He took a bite of his sandwich. He hadn’t. Not really. And he hadn’t related everything Olivia and he discussed. He didn’t share, for instance, the matchmaker had said to go slowly with Jasmine. The fact she wanted to be friends was encouraging because it was the first time she’d ever said that about one of the men she’d been introduced to.

“Because you were so adamant about it,” he said.

Now Jasmine pulled a pout and hers wasn’t meant to make him laugh.

“What did she say after you told her I didn’t think we were,” she lifted her hand, “suited?”

“That she had a few more women who looked promising—her word—that she’d introduce me to.”

“Oh. Okay, then.” She sat back in the booth. “Well…okay.”

He wasn’t sure but she seemed…put off by that.

Promising.

“No more talk of that now,” he said. She visibly relaxed at his words. “Tell me what you’re thinking I should be bidding on the house.”

Preorder here: Mix & Match

Watch the book trailer here: Mix & Match

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Photo of the day, day 19

I do have a lot of mugs!! haha

This is another fav because, really, when it comes down to it this is exactly what writers are: storytellers.

Some are better than others, assuredly.

But within every writer is a burst of inspiration that cries out “Let me tell you a story.”

Love that!

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#SundaySnippet 1/16/2022

#SundaySnippet

From my WIP for Magnolia Blossom THE HAUNTING OF WILTON JUNE (No release date yet but soon, I hope!)

My heroine, Jerica, is a botanist

Here ya go:

For three days they avoided one another, each telling themselves it wasn’t really avoidance as much as work that occupied their every waking moment.

Jerica knew it for the lie it was on the first day as she set out with her deliveries. From the moment Will walked out of the cottage she’d thought of little else but him.

And that kiss.

She’d analyzed it, conceptualized it, even going so far as to make a little mental chart enumerating all the ways Will’s kiss made her feel.

#1 like she was cherished.

#2 like she mattered.

#3 like she was a desirable woman.

#4 like if she’d given him the slightest prompting they would have wound up in her big brass bed spending the rest of the afternoon, evening, and night doing wild and wicked things to one another.

Her cheeks grew warm from the memory of his tongue mating with hers, sipping from it, drawing nourishment, as she printed instruction labels for the salves cooling in her workroom.

Her legs grew restless as she fantasized what his body looked like under his comfortable clothes. All that lean and lithe muscle under his shirt had felt staggering when she’d run her hands up his chest.

Her thighs shook at the remembrance of the way his erection had pressed, throbbed, and grown larger when it had been nestled against the apex of her jeans.

She berated herself when she had to start an emulsion of Slipper Elm tea twice because she’d miscalculated the right amount of elm powder and honey. She’d been picturing Will the way he looked as he’d sat across from her eating the soup and sandwiches she’d prepared. The light in his eyes had been bright, the blues in them meshing into a startling chaos of color. His lips had grown wet from sipping the soup, tiny traces of tomato-red sticking to the corners.

You need to get a grip, girl.

Once you start breaking out in an erotic sweat from the way a soup color looks on someone’s mouth, it’s time to take a break, reboot your brain, and call it a day on the naughty-thoughts-daydreaming.

Which is what she did.

Unfortunately, the moment she laid her head down on her pillow Will’s face popped into her brain again and thoughts of whether he slept in his underwear or nude raced through her mind.

She pictured both, individually, and had to throw the warm blankets off her growing-hot body.

The man simply occupied he thoughts to the point of ridiculousness.

Why, was the question plaguing her.

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25 Days of Christmas Ornaments day 12

Professions are easy to turn into Holiday ornaments. The other day I showed you one set of the nurse/doctor ones I’ve received over the years. Today is my retirement career.

You all know I retired from my job in 2015 when I got my first writing contract with The Wild Rose Press. The day I turned in my resignation was one of the happiest – and scariest – of my life. Happy because I was finally being given an opportunity to do what I loved, full-time. Scariest because…no income. The potential for income was there, but I knew it was going to take a few years ( read: several!) before I saw any substantial cash in the royalties department. I still can’t support myself to this day on what I make as a full-time writer each year, but it’s way better than when I first started out in 2015.

That year, for Christmas, I bought myself this ornament as a testament to my new career:

It’s perfect in so many ways, but mostly because it’s a. a typewriter, and b. pink.

LOL

I wish I had my own pink typewriter in real life. I have a writing friend who actually does. I’ll need to save up to get myself one, one of these days.

More tomorrow, peeps.

~Peg

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