I finally bowed to the inevitable… that doggone branding thing caught up with me, wore me down. My alter ego—the “real me” some would say—could not bypass Face Book insistence on using Diane, rather than Nya, so all attempts to talk about books failed because…
Well, the truth?
Everybody *knew* Diane wrote, everybody *talked about* the books Diane wrote, but gloriosky… nobody could FIND the books Diane wrote because… Nya held them in bondage.
*headdesk* *facepalm* #wailing-gnashing-teeth#
Nya, of course, has her tribe, but that tribe doesn’t care so much about romantic comedies, heartwarming tales of life in the country, YA fantasies with horses and dragons, and sports romances… all M/F. Diane’s tribe loves that stuff, along with the lighter touch for scenes of affection (no linoleum gets melted).
What to do, what to do?
Well, after a bit, it occurred… why not just let Diane have her thing, and Nya have… the other thing?
Sounds simple, but in practice, not so much. It required re-editing and reformatting, new book covers, new approaches to marketing, and decisions on whether or not to stay in Amazon’s Kindle Unlimited or to go wide.
And those decisions came with a side of carpal tunnel syndrome in both hands, confirmed by nerve induction tests that 1) were a real hoot… not, and 2) cost an arm and… the other arm (jaw-dropping charges!).
I’m slowly working through the catalog, the two sports romances first, then I’ll proceed to the other titles on an as-time-and-nerve-damage-permits basis.
So, without further ado, may I present a Romance with Sass and
a heroine who’s slightly past her use-by-date…
THE 90 DAY RULE
When playing by the rules means stepping over the line…
Sometimes starting over means trying out assault and battery, especially when the object d’ violence is a cheating husband caught in the act. Restraining orders aside, safety comes in numbers and having certain … standards.
For Jessamine chaos and capitulation are facts of life. Giving up dreams to service her husband’s ambitions and enabling the same blind submission in her own daughter ends abruptly, leaving her rootless, homeless and destitute.
For some people, it is the kindness of strangers who make the difference but for Jes it is the unlikely alliance of the mother-in-law-from-hell, a devastatingly handsome basketball coach and a phalanx of determined team members who convince a woman of a certain age that beginning again doesn’t mean giving up or giving in.
The only problem is … there’s that pesky 90 day rule.
Jack glared at me, our bodies locked in a rigid stand-off, guns cocked, ready to unleash with both barrels.
He answered my unspoken question with one of his own. “When he pressed you, what did you do?”
“Roddie. He was all over you. What. Did. You. Do?” Each word was punctuated with latent aggression.
“I pushed back.”
“Exactly.” Jack leaned in, so close it made me afraid. Terrified. Because I knew what was coming.
“You are a force of nature out there, Jes, a warrior. Nothing on God’s earth can stop you when you go after what you want.”
But that was different. It was a game. Just a game. Wasn’t it?
“It’s not just a game. Not to people like us. We live and breathe the same air, Jessamine Cavanaugh.” He stroked my collar bone, his voice ragged and needy. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”