Author: L.S. Murphy
Publisher: Entangled Flirt
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Pages/File Size: 49pages/949KB
Formats Available: E-Book
Release Date: 11th November 2013
BLURB supplied by Bewitching Blog Tours
Rena Woods has a great life. She recently landed the contract to decorate the home of basketball wife, Cecilia Hood, her business is growing, and this contract could make her the elite decorator in St. Louis. Rena’s sacrificed her personal life for her company without a single regret. When Staff Sergeant C.J. Riker moves in across the hall, Rena can’t stand to be around him. He may be on the volcanic side of hot, but his attitude sucks. Riker does whatever he can to get under Rena’s skin.
After a massive blow to her business sends Rena on a self-destructive binge, Riker is there to save her from doing something she might regret. Could there be more to Riker than meets the eye? And will he open up enough to Rena to tell her how he lost his leg or shut out love forever?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
L.S. Murphy lives in the Greater St. Louis area where she watches Cardinals baseball, reads every book she can find, and weaves tales for teens and adults. When not doing all of the above, she tends to The Bean (aka her daughter), her husband and a menagerie of pets. “A Reason to Stay”, a contemporary romance novella, is available as of November 2, 2012. Reaper is her debut young adult novel and is available as of January 7th, 2013.
She is a member of Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) and the St. Louis Writer’s Guild.
Some authors don’t use social media at all. Others live for it. Personally, I love social media. Throughout the day, I will be on Twitter chatting with anybody, or just tossing out bits of randomness. I keep my Facebook pages up to date with important and sometimes not so important information. I blog at least twice a week. Why? Well, that’s easy. Because I enjoy it.
I’ve seen too many authors who use Twitter just to pimp their own books or blog posts. Maybe they will post one of your blog posts too. That’s nice, but it defeats the purpose. Honestly, if you’re a writer who does that, I’ll probably unfollow you. Sorry, but it’s true. There’s a reason why it’s called SOCIAL media. To be social.
Facebook can be another cesspool of self-promotion. It’s so easy to post links to your blog or where to buy your book on your page that some writers forget to chat with people who comment.
When I first joined Twitter, which is where I spend the vast majority of my time online, I thought it would be fun. Initially, I followed a few celebrities and picked up a follower here and there. It was interesting, but not as fun as I’d hoped. Once I started talking about my beloved St. Louis Cardinals, I quickly made some new friends. Before long, my followers grew, but only because I chatted with them. Really, what fun is following someone who doesn’t chat with you?
Social Media can be a huge asset to authors who really put the time into it. Show the world who you are. Talk about everything that interests you, whether it’s books or baseball. You can forge bonds with other writers, readers, and book bloggers, but you have to chat with them. Really, who wants to hang out with somebody who does nothing but talk about themselves all day? Yeah, that’s what I thought.
The moving van blocked my car on the street outside my building. Thanks to a freak storm knocking out the power the night before, I was already running late for an appointment halfway across the city. The meteorologists in St. Louis should just add “we think” to every forecast to save themselves the trouble. Of course, my mother would have said I was always late, no matter what the reason. It’s her favorite complaint, besides pointing out her lack of grandchildren. Never mind my two older brothers with three kids between them.
“You’re not getting any younger, Rena,” she chided the night before as we had our weekly phone conversation. Mom loved using my name against me as added emphasis. “You’ll be thirty in a few years. And it’s all downhill from there.”
Such a positive influence.
The cars were covered in summer leaves. The winds had sent tree limbs to the center of the streets. Despite the storm, the air had already lost its “fresh rain” scent and regained the heavy humidity of a St. Louis summer.
Soulard’s neighborhood association had a policy that movers could not start until after nine o’clock in the morning. It was ten minutes until nine, which was also the time I was supposed to meet my biggest client.
I hammered my palm against the door of the moving van, leaving a wet handprint on the white paint. A guy with dark hair cut in the traditional USMC hairstyle—short on the sides with an inch on top—leaned out the window. He lowered his wraparound sunglasses and cocked an eyebrow. A smirk played above his stubbled jaw. I wanted to smile back—guys with dimples were a weak point for me—but I was running way too late to flirt. Too bad.
“Could you move? You’re blocking me in.” I motioned to my red hatchback, which my best friend Maddie had dubbed “The Tomato.”
He stuck his arm out the window and opened the door from the outside. His dark, sleeveless t-shirt revealed a tattoo of the eagle, anchor, and globe on a tight bicep. I figured he was around my age, give or take a year or three. As he climbed down, my gaze traced each curve of his athletic frame until the prosthetic caught my attention. I felt his eyes on me as I stared too long at the fake leg.
“Are you done yet?” he snapped with a voice hardened by the Corps. It was the same voice my uncle, a retired sergeant, used on my cousins. It made you want to stand at attention and shout “Yes, sir” at the top of your lungs.
Before I could come up with a decent sounding apology for letting my eyes linger too long where they shouldn’t have, he stalked past me and around the back of the truck. His elbow brushed against the bare skin of my arm. Goosebumps spread to my shoulder. It’d been too long since a guy, any guy, made that happen. Just freaking great. I don’t have time for this. I spun on my heel and hurried after him, glad he didn’t see the embarrassment color my cheeks. Good job, Rena. Piss off the hot Marine. It’s not like you haven’t seen a guy with a prosthetic before.
This is a Tour Wide Giveaway in conjunction with Bewitching Blog Tours
The Prize? $10 Amazon Gift Card