The day I released finding Reese. was an exciting day.

This book took a lot of blood, sweat and tears. I had hosted a handful of release day parties for several colleagues, but never one for myself. I figured I wasn’t “current, relevant, or well known” to have a party. I always see the big names in pretty lights doing their thing, and I had that idea in the back of my head that no one would attend. Some of my peers told me to shove my lack of self-confidence up by behind, and give this party thing a shot. So I did, and I couldn’t have done it with the help of some amazing people within the Indie Book World. For all intents and purposes, it was a success. There were so many people in that event actively participating. I remember wiping a tear (or two) from my cheeks.

You want to know what made me cry the hardest? Somewhere in Canada there was an Indie author laying on a hospital bed while doing a takeover during my event. I tried to dissuade this writer from participating because to me their health is of most importance, not my silly release party. But no, she was insistent, adamant about being there. For that hour I choked back tears and asked God to bless her. I’ve never met S.H. Timmins, but from that moment, she stole my heart, and has my undying respect.

Yesterday I was informed by a colleague Timmins was interested in having a party of her own for the upcoming release of Buffed, book two in The Destinations Series. I was thrilled and excited, and didn’t hesitate when asked to co-host. While I haven’t read Timmins work, I am her fan because of her selflessness to this community. I guess the point of this long-winded post is to invite you to the Release Party for Buffed on Facebook on September 1, 2015, starting at 12 P.M. EDT.

Catch up with the Destination Series by reading Bent (Destinations #1). You can also read the synopsis and add your TBR on Goodreads.

Interact with S.H. Timmins on Social Media: Facebook | Twitter | Amazon | Goodreads

I hope to see you there on September 1, 2015.

 

 (Image credit: Pinterest)

*This is raw and unedited copyrighted material.*

“A true friendship is not bound by convenience. It’s not about how far this person will go to help me achieve my goals, or how this person is full of drama, but they are popular so they’ll stick around for the sake of what could be a potential benefit to them,” she says emphatically.

I stand in front of her, covered in sweat. I’m practically pacing to the point where I just want to haul ass out of here. Not because I’m afraid… I’m just a tad worked up. However, her impassive eyes keep me hooked. She’s obviously pissed off.

“Grab that chair and sit your ass right down. Now, Rayden!” Brooklyn commands, looking at me square in the eye. When I sit, she continues. “A true friend is the one who offers their shoulder to let you cry. They are the ones who hold the tissue to your nose and ask you to blow. True friends are those who sit you down –like I am now — and tell you things like it is. They don’t sugarcoat anything, and are the first to call you out on your shit.

“In this world there are fakers, and there are makers. The fakers are merely pretenders, they say they are your friend, they are “there” by your side, and they “support” you but only when it’s convenient to them. The makers are the ones who don’t boast titles. They aren’t the ones who claim to be your friend, why? It’s a given. They’ve been there for you in the worst time of your life, and have been there during the highlights. They don’t need your permission to help you. They don’t care about success, or failure. They care about you. Not what you can bring them, but you, heart and soul.

“I call them makers because they make you smile through tears. They make you evaluate things from a different perspective, and make you feel like the fight isn’t over, and that it’s time to get back into the ring. They’re the ones screaming in the corner motivating you be better. Do I make myself clear?”

Well shit. She just put me, and my goddamn theories to shame. I nod twice, but keep my trap shut. I mean, Brooklyn is right and all. All these goddamn sharks swimming around me aren’t my friends. I know that better than anyone. I’m just “The King” to them. The money-maker, the steppingstone between having zero dollars in their bank accounts to adding five or six zeros at the end of it.

Still sitting in my chair, I look at her closely. Her breasts rise and fall with every breath she takes. I have no clue what got her so worked up, but damn, she needs the kind of medicine that will shut her right the fuck up. Feeling rather anxious, I rub my hands against the satiny material of my training shorts. Up and down, down and up. I think for a moment the consequences of the actions I’m about to take. Do I really want to do this?

Rising from my chair, I walk towards her, and judging by the crazy look in her eyes I’m confident Brooklyn can see where this is going. For each step I take, she takes another back, until her ass hits the wall. She looks to her sides, and I can almost hear the gears turning in her head as she thinks of ways to bolt from me.

“Brooklyn. I’m done playing games with you,” I mutter under my breath.

Her lips part slightly, her breath cooling the warmth of my lips. Her breathing is erratic; small, nervous whimpers escape her throat. Resting my palms against the wall, I lock her in. There’s only an inch separating us, and through my thin layers I can feel the heat of her body. Her neck looks so inviting, but so does her lips which are a nice shade of pink. My lips suddenly feel parched so I lick them, wishing it were hers I was wetting. To my wonder, Brooklyn’s blues watch me closely, following the movements of my tongue against my lips like her life depends on it.

The intimate feeling behind our stares is too much to take in, so I close my eyes; a meager effort to keep my impulses under control. I don’t know Brooklyn the way I should, but one thing I do know is that I want to be more than just her friend. I want to be the one to be there for her. I just don’t know how, and this urgent need has me all kinds of fucked up and twisted. Opening my eyes I scan her down, and notice through her little white tank top her nipples are hard. She likes me. Wait. No. She wants me.

I move my head, stopping at her left earlobe. Inhaling a long drawn breath, I take her scent in, loving the flowery smell of her skin. I think about what I’ll say to her. The build-up over the past few years has filled my patience bucket to its brim. I’ve done right by this woman, even though she doesn’t know it, and I won’t flake out on her like everyone else does.

“Brooklyn,” I whisper into her ear. ©2015, Imy Santiago — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Kings’s Reign COMING SOON.

We made it to Round 3 of RAVE AND RANT ABOUT RAUNCH Book Blog’s The Year Thus Far 2015 Awards!

Voting for Round 3 has commenced. If you are so inclined, please vote for finding Reese. in the Sports category. I will be forever grateful.

Love you all madly,

-i

Release Day Blitz

Title: Mr. Wright Forever
Series: Wild Card Series (#2)
Genre: Erotic Romance
Date of Publication: July 14, 2105
Cover Design: Alannah Carbonneau with Fotolia
Add to Goodreads TBR

About Mr. Wright Forever

He was supposed to be the man I loved – forever.

He shot that fantasy to Hell. He broke my heart and shattered my soul.

I was moving on – or it looked that way to those on the outside looking in. I’d moved to Chicago and landed myself a killer job. I was making friends and then out of the blue he was there – and all over again I felt myself falling. This time, it wasn’t an easy fall. I fought it hard.

But one night with Kade Wright can never be one simple night. I should have known. I’ve been here before.

From the very beginning, Mr. Wright Now was always Mr. Wright Forever.

Pre-Order Mr. Wright Forever

eBook Kindle Edition  Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU

Excerpt one of Mr. Wright Forever

“What are we doing, Kade?”

I loved hearing my name on her lips. There’s nothing better than the sweet sound of her voice saying my name. Even when it’s flowing from those lips in anger, I liked it. I just liked me – on her.

“We’re not fighting us anymore.” My reply was firm and her eyes widened in shock.

“We aren’t?”

I shook my head resolutely. “No, Nelena, we aren’t.”

“How do you figure?”

I could feel my blood heat in my veins as I took a step toward her, pushing her from the elevator and into my space by first infiltrating hers. I wanted to push my way into everything that is her and hers. I wanted to infiltrate every crevice of her heart, every inch of her body, until I was too entwined within her to ever lose her again.

She gasped a breathless sound and I tried not to let her see just how intimately her breathlessness affected me. It took me all of seconds to open the door of my condo before pushing her inside. I know she’s fighting a war inside – I know because I can see it through the honey brown of her eyes, and like a predator, I can sense the increased frequency that is the beating of her heart.

“Stop fighting this.” I whispered, pushing her back against the closed door of my condo, caging her within my arms on either side of her body. “You know it’s pointless. I know you feel for me what I feel for you. I know you’ve craved me every moment we’ve been apart.”

“No.” She shook her head adamantly. I’m really not sure if she’s trying to convince me, or herself.

I continued as though she never even spoke. “Your body craves mine. I know because even now, even though you’re fighting me with everything you have, your leaning into me. Your chest is pushing toward mine, acting against your every instinct to fight me.” Her breaths quickly turned short. “You’re breathing is quick and sharp. You respond to my voice on a primal level and you know this reaction isn’t something that should be fought. Fighting this – us – shouldn’t even be considered.”

@2015 Alannah Carbonneau – ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Excerpt two of Mr. Wright Forever

“Do you want to know what you are to me, Nelena?”

Confusion settled in my mind before understanding pushed it away and I nodded, breathing. “Yes.”

“You are my everything. You are the air I breathe, the bright to my days and the warmth to my nights. You are the keeper of my heart and the healer of all my wounds. You are the face of my future and the promise of my happiness. You make me worthy.” Tears were pouring from my eyes, but I didn’t move to wipe them away. I didn’t want to stop him. “You’re the woman I love more than my own life. For you, there is nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice.” He lowered his lips to mine, kissing me softly. “You are my everything.”

“I love you.” I whispered against his lips.

“I am in love with you.” His words were a vow, a promise and a statement rolled into one beautiful package.

When he lowered his body to mine – filling me – I’ve never lived a moment where I felt so complete.

This joining with him was something I couldn’t explain. It was a force unlike anything I had ever known up to this moment. It was the very thing I existed for – the very reason for my beating heart. This love, with Kade, was magnetic. It was so blissfully perfect in all its imperfection.

@2015 Alannah Carbonneau – ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Connect with Alannah Carbonneau

Facebook | Twitter | Google+ | tsu

Become a Fan on Goodreads | Follow on Amazon

About Alannah Carbonneau

I live in Alberta, Canada, where the weather is forever changing (without warning). I am engaged to be married in August 2015 to my high school sweetheart and love of my life. There are no children in my life as of right now, but we do have a handful of rambunctious cats (four) and a testy, rescued Shepard/Husky, who take up a lot of my time.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve adored the written word. English was always my favorite class and that may be biased because I can’t count to save my life, so math was a horror! I remember the very first novel I ever read, Shocking Pink by Erica Spindler. It was the most interesting of the covers on my mom’s bookshelf (probably because it was pink) and I was way too young to be reading that novel. But I fell in love. From there, I read almost everything from V.C. Andrews.

My writing started out as poetry, which then evolved to songs, and later into novels. I was never one for the short stories as I found it too difficult to pack everything I imagined into something so small. I now have multiple novels published independently. I write both novels for young adults and novels for adults – all romance.

Despite my favorite younger reading material, I now adore writing and reading all things romance.

For more details, please visit my website.

 

 

Much has been said since I wrote my blog post regarding my experience with Amazon. 

It has made news headlines, and has sparked a lot of attention; both good and bad. What started out as a call to action became something entirely different. 

It fostered a healthy discussion on how our social interactions might be monitored by third parties without our express consent. It allowed hundreds of people to come forth and say they are, or have experienced what I’ve recently went through. It even inspired another author to write a petition on change.org which has now been signed by ten thousand people! 

On the same token, my post has sparked a rather unkind debate. Folks have questioned everything: from my integrity, honesty, relevancy, and have even gone as far as using social media, and blog platforms to say unkind things about me, and my work ethic. 

The story didn’t go viral just because… and thousands of people share my same concerns. I don’t expect the world to agree with me, and I am most certainly not “dragging people into my woes with Amazon.” You have the choice to come up with your own conclusions, and you are free to have your opinion on the matter; but there are ways to express your thoughts in a respectful manner. 

I knew I would be met with opposition, but never did I envision the countless beatdowns and verbal harassment by people within our community, like those I’ve experienced during the past week. It has gotten ugly, and it proves what the biggest authors have been saying all along. Our keyboards have turned into pitchforks, and our words are being used to destroy rather than to build.

Criticism is natural when addressing controversy, but there are these things called ethics and decorum that we must all adhere to. You may not like what I expressed in my blog post, and you are entitled to your opinion, but don’t be mean about it. Be a professional. Not a bully. 

Use your words to do good, not to destroy. Some think I’ve become a “headache” within the community, and that’s okay. But don’t be unkind to me because you feel entitled to do so. I have feelings too. I have beliefs. 

You may dislike my stance, and that’s okay, but don’t take out your frustrations on my work, or my integrity I’ve worked so hard to build.  

Have courage and be kind. Is that too much to ask? Until we do, more nastiness will emerge, and more mud will be thrown, and what will that accomplish? Nothing. 

We choose how me make positive changes in this world, and our behavior and how we react to things is entirely on us. Maybe I’m wired differently, or maybe I’m too inexperienced or naïve. But I stand firmly behind my beliefs, and I’ll never find it excusable to attack someone who thinks differently than me. 

Whether or not you agree with my point of view is irrelevant. What IS relevant is respect, and from my firsthand experience these past seven days, that is a concept lost on many.

Maybe I view the world differently, maybe I believe inside each person there is kindness and compassion, tolerance where there is no agreement, and understanding when your viewpoints conflict with those of others. 

Maybe that’s just me. I see the good in the world and its potential, but at the end of the day therein lies the crux of our humanity: conformity.   

I was driving home from work after an extended shift at Universal. It was near ten o’clock when I finally answered that number on my cell I didn’t recognize after the twelfth attempt. I remember exactly when and where I was when I got the call. 

It was so strange to hear a stranger flat out tell me my mother had died. I didn’t understand. I had spoken to her five days prior. She was fine! Apart from a recent stroke and issues with her blood pressure, she was okay. I thought it was a joke. I remember pulling into a gas station, scrambling to find a pen inside my old beat up ’98 Ford Ranger. When I finally did, it exploded in my hand as soon as I removed the cap. I guess the 101F degree weather in Orlando, Florida melted the ink capsule. 

I’m crying hysterically as I try to explain to the person on the other line that I needed a minute to find another pen. They were in a hurry for me to collect my mother’s body, as the morgue was full at the hospital, it was summer, and they needed her out of there immediately. 

A man at the station saw me, grabbed the phone, and spoke to them. He wrote the number down for me, and hung up. I remember him clearly. He was in his fifties, just as old as my mother, and he was at the gas station with his son. He wrapped me in his arms, cried with me, and bought baby wipes at the station to clean the ink from my hands and face. 

He rocked me, and continuously said, “I’m sorry, kid. I’m sorry.” The man’s son held my hand, and to this day, I haven’t forgotten how hard he was squeezing it, bringing it up to his cheek, and rubbing his stubble against it. It was comforting. 

I never learned their names. They never knew mine, but they took the time to console me during one of the most terrible moments of my life.

2006 was the worst year of my life.

Every year I remember my mother on this particular day. I miss her deeply. I wish I could see her again, but I also know she is where she needs to be, and she’s no longer in pain. She’s up there with my brother now (he joined her exactly three months after she passed). 

So, Mom, I hope you’re happy, proud of me, and everything in between. Your departure made me a stronger person, I just didn’t realize it at the time. I miss you, and I pray you are watching over us every second of the day. Especially Izzy, who has your beautiful smile, hands, and silky hair, but more importantly, she has your spirit. 

Love,

-Pachu (that was my mom’s pet name for me)

 Rosa Isabel C. R. (1956-2006)

A couple of weeks ago I read the third installment of a series I really loved. I will refrain from sharing the name of the novel and its author.

Like any reader, as soon as I finished reading, I wrote my review. When I tried posting it on Amazon (I did buy the eBook, just like any normal and decent human being would), I received a rather concerning email.

I will not share the screenshot of the email as it does contain the title of the book and name of the author. In its place I have copied the body of the email below.

Dear Amazon Customer,

Thanks for submitting a customer review on Amazon. Your review could not be posted to the website in its current form. While we appreciate your time and comments, reviews must adhere to the following guidelines:
http://www.amazon.com/review-guidelines

Here I was, thinking I had included an expletive, or mentioned a brand name within the review. I went back and cross-referenced it against the review I posted on Amazon’s sister site Goodreads, and didn’t see anything wrong with it. I tried to upload it again. Immediately, I received the below message.

Sorry. You’re not eligible to review this product. For more information, read the Customer Review Guidelines.

I thought for a minute, and figured maybe there was an issue with their website… So I tried to input a review for another book by another author, and received the same system message I shared above.

I wrote an inquiry to Amazon regarding the issue. To my surprise, this is the message I received the following day.

Hello,

We cannot post your Customer Review for (book title deleted) by (author name deleted) to the Amazon website because your account activity indicates that you know the author. 

Customer Reviews are meant to give customers unbiased product feedback from fellow shoppers. Because our goal is to provide Customer Reviews that help customers make informed purchase decisions, any reviews that could be viewed as advertising, promotional, or misleading will not be posted. To learn more about this policy, please review our Customer Review Guidelines (http://amazon.com/help/customer-reviews-guidelines) and FAQs (http://www.amazon.com/gp/help/customer/display.html/?nodeId=201077870).  

We encourage family and friends to share their enthusiasm for the book through our Customer Discussions feature or Editorial Reviews feature. To start a Customer Discussion visit the Meet Our Authors forum and enter your discussion title in the Start a new discussion box. You’ll find the forum here: 
http://www.amazon.com/forum/meet%20our%20authors/&cdForum=Fx2UYC1FC06SU8S

To have your Editorial Review posted to the detail page, e-mail it directly to the author so they can add it for you. 

If you believe you’re eligible to write a Customer Review for this book, send additional details to review-appeals@amazon.com. 

We hope to see you again soon.

Best regards,

Harm J,

At this point I am dumbstruck. “I know the author.” That is quite an erroneous and quite presumptous assessment, so I went through the painstaking process of escalating the issue to their Review Appeals Department. At this point, I’m pretty upset.

Greetings,

I am appalled with your recent email message stating a review I wrote could not be posted because my “online activity suggests I know the author.” (Online purchase: X by X eBook.)

This response is ludicrous. I am a writer and published author. I understand the Indie Community is a small one, and among our circles, rubbing elbows with peers is not an uncommon occurrence. I am also a blogger and reviewer who also buys books. When I’m not writing, I am reading and reviewing. My reviews are one hundred percent unbiased, regardless if I have rubbed elbows with peers online. I would like to know who is providing you the information that suggests I may know the author.

That’s a two-edged sword; knowing of an author online, and personally knowing an author in real life are two different things. By your definition it would mean that bloggers such as myself are being barred from reviewing books they legitimately purchased, which in turn contravenes with the notion that reviews for a verified purchase are highly encouraged.

I am left speechless as I don’t know any authors on a level you are suggesting. I merely follow authors on Social Media: Twitter, Facebook, Google+, tsu, and on your partner site Goodreads. I interact with these authors during takeover events. I am an avid reader and I buy my books like anyone else does.

Your claims are unfounded, and as a paying consumer, I demand my review be posted. It is unfair to the authors whose work I love, to be punished for a claim that simply cannot stand. I don’t know any authors on a personal level.

Expecting your prompt response,

Ms. Santiago

(Amazon user: x@x.com)

Sent from Yahoo Mail for iPhone

I was hoping for a better outcome. It took them a week to answer back. To my dismay, this below screenshot is the response I received today.

Amazon has crossed the line. 

I pay for my eBooks. I take the time to read and review books I love. The Big Brother mentality Amazon is employing is appalling, and crosses an ethical line of unfathomable proportions. They are not God, and are censoring my passion for the written word. Because of them, I will not be allowed to write and post any further reviews on their site, regardless if I paid, or not. It is a disservice to readers, and a back-handed slap in the face of all authors across the board.

What quantifiable and verifiable ways is Amazon using to determine if I know the author of a book, or not? The fact that they refuse to elaborate as to how I “know the author personally” is highly concerning. 

This is what happens when you are a published writer, and write reviews for the books you paid for.

This is wrong, and it has to stop.

It  is censorship at its finest. I have interacted with a couple hundred authors over the past year; from events to signings, authors and writers rub elbows during networking sessions. This does NOT mean I know you personally. Knowing someone personally is bearing knowledge about them, from say… their favorite color to their social status.

Amazon, you have spat in the face of those authors and writers whose work deserve praise and recognition. I am shocked and appalled. At this time, I will discontinue writing peer reviews. I will complete my list of pending reviews, and will cease from posting them on Amazon.

I’m truly sorry, but my wings have been clipped.

Don’t hate me for it.

Blame Amazon for their questionable business practices.

Feel free to post your comments below. I’m eager to read your thoughts.

-i

Please share this blog post if you think this business practice is unfair.

#ExplainYourselfAmazon #Censorship #QuestionableBusinessPractices #AuthorsDependOnReviews #ClippedWings