I have been busy. In June, my first romantic suspense Beneath the Skin was published by Wild Rose Press. I have just signed the contract for Close to the Skin, Book 2 in the Skin Quartet series. I have discovered that it is not the writing that is time consuming. I love writing. But doing the promo for the book takes hours! And the sad thing is, I am not really sure any of my Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest posts are actually helping people decide to choose my book to read.
There are just so many wonderful books out there, I know readers have a hard time picking from them all. I know I do. I read about a book every two days or so, and right now I have 112 books waiting to be read. Most on my Kindle, but also a nice tippy stack of real books. Then every once in awhile, I am drawn to reread a book.
I have posted 85 read books on Goodreads as part of my 100 book challenge. But I have to admit, I don’t post everything I read – only books I can give at least 3 stars but preferably 4 or 5. As an author I don’t think low stars help anyone and they sure hurt when you get them. I’m sure others will feel differently about that, but that’s how I feel.
Anyway, back to the promo problem. Here’s the mock up for a possible Facebook Ad. What do you think? Will it make people want to read this book?
Graffiti artists, tattooing, suspense, secrets, lies and murder. If you love books that keep you glued to the edge of your seat you will love The Skin Quartet Series! Join Zara West’s Readers Club to stay on top of upcoming books in the series.
Book 1– Beneath the Skin
Bella Bell has disappeared, and Melissa Dermot believes it’s all her fault. After all, the popular Williamsburg, Brooklyn tattoo artist has been helping her save abused women. But what Melissa doesn’t know is that searching for her friend will put her in the path of two men—one who wants her heart, and one who wants her dead.
“You.” Aristides Stavros loomed over her. “What are you doing here?”
She peered up at the artist’s twisted face and backed further down the steps. A doorknob poked her in the back. Panicked, she twisted it open and dashed into an unlit basement storeroom.
She stumbled forward into the dark, tripped over a metallic cylindrical object, and landed on her stomach. All the air whooshed out of her. Rectangular objects with sharp corners tumbled around her, jabbing her in the arms and neck. Rough cloth scrapped her skin.
On the staircase above her, the beast hovered in the doorway like a predator scenting his prey. For a second, he hesitated, then he dashed down the steps and moved toward her, huffing as he shoved objects out of the way. She pushed herself up on hands and knees and scuttled further into the dark.
“Sto diavólo. Where are you? If you destroy any of these paintings, I will have your hide or at least my lawyer will.” He came closer. “Busy man, my lawyer, and to think I almost didn’t hire one.”
She scrabbled back and touched torn canvas. Heavens, these were his paintings—the ones that sold for thousands of dollars.
She was in deep, deep trouble.
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Let me know what you think.