I admit, I’ve resisted giving my books away for free to the general reading public. Of course I give away copies for review to bloggers and release day festivities and occasional promotions. But something about giving my work away for free just goes against the grain. Who wants to work for free? Every book I write is a lot of work. It takes a long time, a lot of thought, research and hours and hours of writing, revising and editing. And it costs real money – cover images, cover design, proofreading, swag, promotion, etc.
Well, I finally decided to try it, and placed an ad with Bookbub in an effort to reach more readers. To get exposure. Thousands of people responded, and downloaded the book. Now, I know many of those downloads will sit on Kindles for months and may never even be opened. A lot of people are simply drawn to the power of “free,” and download on a whim.
This morning, as my promotion ends, I’m feeling grateful, and rather in awe. Not only did thousands download the book, which is the first in my Women of Whitfield series, I sold many copies of book 2, and already have four new five-star reviews. And I’m re-energized to get back to working on the next book! So, many thanks to all of you who downloaded The Storm Within. I hope you enjoy it. I hope you bond with Claire, Mary and Dana and will want to spend more time with these three friends.
Happy reading to all!
For those of you who are still contemplating the series, or hesitant to try a new author, please use the Look Inside feature available on Amazon, and take a look at the reviews there and on Goodreads. In case those things aren’t enough to tempt you . . . here’s a little excerpt from The Storm Within:
They shopped for two hours, and Claire’s bags were bulging with evidence of a spending spree. The new skirt and blouse would replace the ones she’d worn the night Ray was over for dinner. Those had found a new home in the landfill.
“Okay, we better put the brakes on, or I’ll need one of those ‘oversized load’ signs for my car to haul all of this stuff home. Besides, I can’t carry anything else,” Claire said.
“And my feet are tired. And we need food,” Mary told her. “What do you think? Gardenview or one of the other restaurants down here? What about the little Mexican place?”
“Sure. That sounds good.”
A few minutes later, they dumped their bags into the extra chairs at their table, and dove into the basket of chips waiting for them.
“This is what I love about this place. Instant gratification,” Mary said.
Under the table, Claire eased her tired feet partway out of her sandals. Ahhh. Now all she needed was something for her parched throat.
The waitress stopped by with glasses of water. “What can I get you ladies to drink?”
Claire spoke first. “I’ll have a house margarita on the rocks. With salt, please.”
She glanced over at Mary and caught her frown.
The waitress turned to Mary. “Ma’am?”
“I’ll have the same.”
As soon as the waitress left, Claire pursed her lips, and set the menu down. Her eyes met Mary’s.
“What?” Mary asked.
“You know what. I don’t want to see that look every time I order a drink. We’ve been having wine with dinner, or drinks and appetizers forever. I can have one margarita, for heaven’s sake.”
Mary leaned forward, her brow furrowed. “But can you? Have just one? What about when you get home, Claire? What about the other night?”
Her throat constricted. Of all people, Mary should understand. “You know what happened the other night. It was awful, and I needed to go numb for a while. Jesus, can’t you cut me a little slack on this?”
“Claire, I don’t want to argue. I’m worried about you, that’s all.”
“All right, but if you’re fine, why aren’t you doing anything? Why don’t you come help me with concessions at the baseball field next week?”
Claire shrugged. “I might. I’m not sure how long I’ll be at Elise’s or how worn out I’ll be after that. I’ll call you.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow after lunch.”
“Want me to help you pack or anything?”
Claire rolled her eyes. “No, I do not need help packing, for heaven’s sake.”
“What are you doing with Reggie?”
“He’s staying here. I’ll put out extra food and water.”
The drinks arrived, and they ordered dinner. Claire lifted the heavy margarita glass, and held it out toward Mary. “Well, that’s that.”
“To new beginnings,” Mary said as she clinked her glass against Claire’s.
Her attorney had said the same thing. A euphemism for starting over, Claire thought. Starting over at fifty-five. When she should be settled and comfortable. What was so great about starting over?