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Monthly Archives: April 2019

How to overcome or accept a bad review #MFRWauthor

Someone posting “this story sucks.” Does not constitute a bad review. Explaining what about the story sucked and why it did is more helpful. Just saying you disliked a story because it wasn’t your cup of tea leaves a lot to be desired.

 

So if you’re ready to take the plunge and read reviews, I have three sure-fire ways to overcome and/or accept a bad review. 

 

Ignorance is Bliss- What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

 

  1. For the love of ink, Do NOT read reviews.

 

One of the very first reviews I ever received was negative. The person called my character weak, and unable to handle anything life threw at her. There were a few other things that were said, but I’ve forgotten. Then I’ve had reviews criticizing the amount of sex, even when the book description states “contains descriptions of explicit sex.” Hello! That line alone means the upcoming read is nowhere near sweet (nothing more than a chaste kiss happens) and you may want to select a different book.

 

Of course, I know some authors who read every review they receive, good, bad or indifferent. My skin is not that thick and at the end of the day. I’m still going to write the story of my heart.

 

Grab a tall glass of your favorite drink. I suggest a shot of liquor or three. My go to is a pitcher of margaritas. Now that we’ve got some liquid courage let’s go.

 

2 Stay objective - In other words, don’t take it personally.

A good reviewer will know how to keep their comments on the story, without attacking the author. A reviewer should be able to say what was liked or disliked about the plot, characters, and whatever else and why it made s/he feel the way it did. 

 

I know the story is your baby and blood, sweat, and many tears have been shed for the sake of getting the scene just right, but don’t take it personally when the reviewer trashes your hard work.

 

  1. Opinions are like Bellybuttons

 

Unless you were created from clay, you have a bellybutton and just like bellybuttons, everyone has an opinion. If you see one out of ten reviews that are bad, it’s one person’s opinion. Now if you see a trend where each reviewer says the same thing, i.e. good plot, but the heroine was TSTL (too stupid to live) Then you may want to re-evaluate how much depth you’re putting into your character.

 

When all is said and done. even the big time Best Selling Authors get bad reviews. Don’t believe me, go check out James Patterson, Diane Mott Davidson, F. Paul Wilson, or Christine Feehan. Their fans can be brutal. And if that’s not enough to mollify a bad review, there’s always tequila.

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Philander or heart throb? #MFRWhooks

Benjamin Douglas or Sir Casanova had a reputation to live up to, known for tossing roses to beautiful women in the audience and stealing a smooch or two on the way in or out of the ring, well its all part of the act. Many believe the hype of his philandering when he’s away from his 10 y/o daughter, including his next door neighbor Serena Jameson.  

 

Serena Jameson has had a crush on the single dad since she saw him tumbling with his daughter in the backyard, but she knows his altar ego is a playboy, yet her heart tells her it’s all an act. After he treats his daughter like the treasure she is, still Serena can’t get past the womanizing image. Yet she gives him a chance.

 

When an unexpected visitor emerges from Ben’s past the challenges faced will put their relationship to the test. Will the couple have a chance to endure to the last bell or will one tap out before the match has even begun? 

 

Available on

Excerpt

There was one more thing she couldn’t ignore: kissing women was part of Sir Casanova’s act.

 

“I’ll find you after the show,” he murmured against her lips. He stepped away, but not before he tucked a white rose in her hair.

 

Serena stared after him, oblivious to the crowd screaming and chanting his name. Sir Casanova, or Ben, as she knew him, swaggered around the ring, tossing red roses indiscriminately to random women before he leapt onto the blue mat and ducked between the second and third ropes of the ring.

 

When she was nudged, she glanced down and to her left. A little girl around nine or ten with a mop of unruly, sand-colored hair stared up at her with a dimpled grin in her little apple cheeks. A smattering of freckles dotted those same cheeks, giving the child a cute and irresistible air.

 

Serena returned the smile with fondness. “Yes, sweetheart?”

 

“My daddy likes you,” the child said.

 

Heat cruised Serena’s cheeks and she pressed her hands to her flaming face. “It’s all an act, Becca. He just does it to amuse the crowd.”

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Sin Eaters’ tattoo

Huemac, a half-breed, covets ultimate power, but he needs two things—access to the royal family and an ancient artifact. He attains the former by seducing the Emperor’s sister, and then steals the latter.

 

Moctezuma, the newly crowned Emperor, comes from a long line of powerful gods known as Sin-Eaters. He desires peace among his people, but an ancient prophecy warns of war.

 

Huemac discovers the incantation to activate the fabled Athame of Souls, a mythical weapon capable of entrapping souls. His quest to rule is within his grasp. Only one thing stands in his way—Moctezuma.

 

Available on

Excerpt

He leaned against the sill, peering into the distant water surrounding the island. Too bad he couldn’t smite them for their insolence. 

 

Dust rose from his grip as he leaned farther out the window. The impudent fools would rue the day they ever passed him over for their leader. Already preparations were being made to crown the rightful heir to the throne—a throne that would be his, if he bided his time.

“Huemac”—the soft, husky tone broke his reverie—“you seem so tense.” 

 

He hid a smirk as he turned. This goddess was his way in. For months he'd bedded her just to get close to her family—the ruling family. Her blood, her very sacrifice, would secure his position as ruler for centuries to come. 

 

“Keeping our relationship from your family continues to give me trouble.” He prevaricated as he glided toward the bed where Metztli lie.  

....

 

She giggled, a musical sound that grated his nerves. “’Tis only until the feast of coronation has concluded. Once that’s over, I will introduce you with all the fanfare due your position.” 

 

Truth rang in her words. What was the emotion pricking his conscience? It almost felt like guilt. He brushed it aside. He learned at an early age about naiveté. Metztli embodied that. As princess, she was shielded from the harshness of what her people really were. She was oblivious to how she was being played with just a hot time in bed and the false promises of love. 

 

He sat on the edge of the bed. His weight shifted her toward him and he brushed a lock of her sandy-brown hair back from her face.

She stared up at him expectantly, her light brown eyes alive with light.

 

“Not a moment later.” He acceded to her plea with a wry smile as he gazed into her eyes. For a moment he was falling forward into the caramel depths. With a jerk, he snapped back, then blinked to clear his head.

 

Metztli rubbed his thigh as if nothing had happened. “You are everything I’ve wanted,” she murmured.

 

....

 

He traced the distinctive Sin Eaters’ tattoo of an eagle perched on a cactus on the inside of her wrist before trailing ....

 

 

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