I’m currently working on the followup book to One Week Girlfriend (insert screaming panic – God, I hope you all like it) and I…don’t know what to call it. All the title possibilities I come up with sound super cheesy. Like so bad, I can’t even admit them here because you’ll all laugh at me.
I could call it the Marshmallow Manifesto but then you’ll really laugh at me.
Looks more like the Marshmallow squad, right? 😉
So yeah, I need help. Maybe I should have a contest? Someone on Facebook suggested I use the word ‘rescue’ in the title because it’s a recurring theme throughout the first book and I love that idea…
I think I’m brain dead. Maybe that’s my problem. Anyone have any suggestions? Is the marshmallow squad cheering you on? Look, they’re so happy and in love. Precious little huggable marshmallows…
Oh, and if you would pretty please go like my Facebook
page, I would adore you forever. I have fun stuff to announce in the next few days. Contests and stuff…yippee!
That’s me right now, so completely overwhelmed by the positive response ONE WEEK GIRLFRIEND has received so far. I’ve met so many amazing readers and reviewers these last few days. Supportive, enthusiastic and so willing to help me spread the word about Drew and Fable’s story. I can’t…believe how wonderful you all are. Seriously. You have no idea how much your support means to me.
I’m grinning from ear to ear, just like this creepy cat.
I know many of you complained about the cliffhanger ending…I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to offend so I feel bad about that. Just know that Drew and Fable’s story will continue (of course!) and the release date for their second book is scheduled for early April. I don’t have a title yet. I’m thinking about having a contest for help with that. Hmmm…
If you’ve read ONE WEEK GIRLFRIEND, put it on your Goodreads shelf, mentioned it on your blog, wherever, whatever, THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart.
Sigh…this reminds me of Drew and Fable.
We were last together only a few hours ago. Hell, I was inside her body only this morning. But I feel like we’ve been separated for weeks. Months. Our mouths are ravenous, her hands buried in my hair, holding me close as I stumble around her living room, finally collapsing on her couch with her still wrapped around me. She’s shoving at my sweatshirt, I’m pulling on her T-shirt, and I win the first round, disentangling her from the oversized shirt and whipping it off her body…
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