Holy crap, I’m so incredibly excited about this new YA novel coming soon from Entangled Publishing.
To get you just as excited, here is the preview of the gorgeous cover and a super-special blub:
Blurb:
On the outside, seventeen-year-old Madelyne Summers looks like your typical blond cheerleader—perky, popular, and dating the star quarterback. But inside, Maddie spends more time agonizing over what will happen in the next issue of her favorite comic book than planning pep rallies with her squad. That she’s a nerd hiding in a popular girl’s body isn’t just unknown, it’s anti-known. And she needs to keep it that way.
Summer is the only time Maddie lets her real self out to play, but when she slips up and the adorkable guy behind the local comic shop’s counter uncovers her secret, she’s busted. Before she can shake a pom-pom, Maddie’s whisked into Logan’s world of comic conventions, live-action role-playing, and first-person-shooter video games. And she loves it. But the more she denies who she really is, the deeper her lies become…and the more she risks losing Logan forever.
TSIBAN was penned by the lovely and talented Leah Rae Miller.
Born and raised in northern Louisiana, Leah Rae Miller still lives there on a windy hill with her husband and kids. She loves comic books, lava lamps, fuzzy socks, and Cherry Coke. She spends most of her days reading things she likes and writing things she hopes other people will like.
Holy crap, I’m so incredibly excited about this new YA novel coming soon from Entangled Publishing.
To get you just as excited, here is the preview of the gorgeous cover and a super-special blub:
Blurb:
On the outside, seventeen-year-old Madelyne Summers looks like your typical blond cheerleader—perky, popular, and dating the star quarterback. But inside, Maddie spends more time agonizing over what will happen in the next issue of her favorite comic book than planning pep rallies with her squad. That she’s a nerd hiding in a popular girl’s body isn’t just unknown, it’s anti-known. And she needs to keep it that way.
Summer is the only time Maddie lets her real self out to play, but when she slips up and the adorkable guy behind the local comic shop’s counter uncovers her secret, she’s busted. Before she can shake a pom-pom, Maddie’s whisked into Logan’s world of comic conventions, live-action role-playing, and first-person-shooter video games. And she loves it. But the more she denies who she really is, the deeper her lies become…and the more she risks losing Logan forever.
TSIBAN was penned by the lovely and talented Leah Rae Miller.
Born and raised in northern Louisiana, Leah Rae Miller still lives there on a windy hill with her husband and kids. She loves comic books, lava lamps, fuzzy socks, and Cherry Coke. She spends most of her days reading things she likes and writing things she hopes other people will like.
Touted by the tabloids as the biggest rock star of our generation, Abigail Kelly is used to being in the spotlight. But beyond the glam of Hollywood, her world is falling apart. Still reeling from the death of her brother and wilting under the iron fist of Max, her manager, Abby banishes herself to the secluded beaches of Florida for the summer, thinking some anonymity and sunshine are just what she needs. What she finds, instead, is Todd, an ex-marine eager to embrace life after war. Together, Abby and Todd find the balance Abby’s life has been missing.
That is, until Max resurfaces, demanding Abby return to Los Angeles to record her band’s newest album. As the pressures of public appearances, paparazzi, and late-night recordings start to mount, Abby will have to risk everything or lose the life she always dreamed of.
Ophelia London’s ABBY ROAD is a love letter to music—both the kind you cherish and the kind you create—as well as a beautiful love story that proves even when everyone in the world can recognize your face, the only people who matter are those who can see inside your heart.
Touted by the tabloids as the biggest rock star of our generation, Abigail Kelly is used to being in the spotlight. But beyond the glam of Hollywood, her world is falling apart. Still reeling from the death of her brother and wilting under the iron fist of Max, her manager, Abby banishes herself to the secluded beaches of Florida for the summer, thinking some anonymity and sunshine are just what she needs. What she finds, instead, is Todd, an ex-marine eager to embrace life after war. Together, Abby and Todd find the balance Abby’s life has been missing.
That is, until Max resurfaces, demanding Abby return to Los Angeles to record her band’s newest album. As the pressures of public appearances, paparazzi, and late-night recordings start to mount, Abby will have to risk everything or lose the life she always dreamed of.
Ophelia London’s ABBY ROAD is a love letter to music—both the kind you cherish and the kind you create—as well as a beautiful love story that proves even when everyone in the world can recognize your face, the only people who matter are those who can see inside your heart.
Wait. Let me back up. I first have to tell you a little bit about the process of writing the Speaking of Love (spin-off of Playing at Love) draft. I wrote the first three chapters over two months ago, got the “okay to move forward” from my editor, then got busy with other writing projects (such as editing both P@L and Abby Road and writing numerous guest blogs and interviews for P@L), knowing that I still had loooooads of time to get back to SOL. Then it came time to do the actual manuscript writing. I sat down with my laptop, cracked my knuckles, then checked Facebook. And Twitter. And pretty much anything else that falls under the title of “time suckage.” After about a week of this, I started to worry. Therefore, being the good little author I am, I sent an email to my editor explaining that it may behoove us both if she gave me a due date for the first draft . . . .because, obviously, I wasn’t getting it done on my own. She did as asked. And I freaked out. Because it seemed very soon, only one month away. Additionally–since I simply CANNOT allow my editor (who, let’s face it, thinks I’m perfect. . . .) to see a first draft without it first going to my critique partner for a blood-drenched edit–I had to move up the completion date in time to send it to her in time for her to read it and send notes and then for me to have time to fix those before the looming due date. AND, since my crit partner is participating in NaNoWriMo starting at the stroke of midnight on November 1st, I needed to get my draft to her even sooner, since she would be completely out of pocket come 11/1. Sooooo. . . .needless to say (but since I’m so long-winded, I’ll say it anyway), my writing time went from one month to two weeks and I was completely freaking out. Then (heh-heh) came the “writer’s block”–which often comes when I put undo pressure on myself. 🙂 After another few days of falling into the “time suckage” vortex, I was really panicking. My writing sucked, I lost focus, I didn’t know who my characters were or what they wanted or what they sounded like, and I basically started rethinking my skill as a writer and my reasons for being born. Very productive. Despite the fact that I was woefully behind my self-inflicted schedule, I took an evening off….not able to face that blank page. I watched a movie that I loved and pulled a book off my shelf that I hadn’t yet gotten to. I read that book and the first half of another. It was pretty amazing what that did. If nothing else, it reminded me what an actual book is supposed to look like and feel like and sound like. The books weren’t amazingly great, but they took me away from my own story long enough for my creativity to rest and reboot. And then I wrote. For three days straight. My characters were back conversing in my head and driving me crazy, and the muses were smiling. It’s what we call a breakthrough. I finished the first draft just shy of two weeks. Which, for me, is pretty dang fast. It’s not perfect, it’s got loads of problems, but. . . . for a rough draft. . . I think it’s quite fab. But I digress. . . . .
2) writing a good “hunky guy chopping firewood” scene can snap me out of a writing funk
3) I need to cut myself major slack
4) writing is easier when my mother is in town and cooking for me. Just knowing I have a freezer full of potato soup is soothing
5) it doesn’t help my writing to watch Vampire Diaries, but it sure is fun
6) I am productive under pressure, but I fear it ages me and drives those around me to want to run and hide
7) for a time, it’s okay to think that I don’t have any writing talents or marketable skills or reasons to be living. Obviously, that will all pass. If I can learn something from it (and then blog about it a week later), maybe those moments of panic aren’t in vain
Wait. Let me back up. I first have to tell you a little bit about the process of writing the Speaking of Love (spin-off of Playing at Love) draft. I wrote the first three chapters over two months ago, got the “okay to move forward” from my editor, then got busy with other writing projects (such as editing both P@L and Abby Road and writing numerous guest blogs and interviews for P@L), knowing that I still had loooooads of time to get back to SOL. Then it came time to do the actual manuscript writing. I sat down with my laptop, cracked my knuckles, then checked Facebook. And Twitter. And pretty much anything else that falls under the title of “time suckage.” After about a week of this, I started to worry. Therefore, being the good little author I am, I sent an email to my editor explaining that it may behoove us both if she gave me a due date for the first draft . . . .because, obviously, I wasn’t getting it done on my own. She did as asked. And I freaked out. Because it seemed very soon, only one month away. Additionally–since I simply CANNOT allow my editor (who, let’s face it, thinks I’m perfect. . . .) to see a first draft without it first going to my critique partner for a blood-drenched edit–I had to move up the completion date in time to send it to her in time for her to read it and send notes and then for me to have time to fix those before the looming due date. AND, since my crit partner is participating in NaNoWriMo starting at the stroke of midnight on November 1st, I needed to get my draft to her even sooner, since she would be completely out of pocket come 11/1. Sooooo. . . .needless to say (but since I’m so long-winded, I’ll say it anyway), my writing time went from one month to two weeks and I was completely freaking out. Then (heh-heh) came the “writer’s block”–which often comes when I put undo pressure on myself. 🙂 After another few days of falling into the “time suckage” vortex, I was really panicking. My writing sucked, I lost focus, I didn’t know who my characters were or what they wanted or what they sounded like, and I basically started rethinking my skill as a writer and my reasons for being born. Very productive. Despite the fact that I was woefully behind my self-inflicted schedule, I took an evening off….not able to face that blank page. I watched a movie that I loved and pulled a book off my shelf that I hadn’t yet gotten to. I read that book and the first half of another. It was pretty amazing what that did. If nothing else, it reminded me what an actual book is supposed to look like and feel like and sound like. The books weren’t amazingly great, but they took me away from my own story long enough for my creativity to rest and reboot. And then I wrote. For three days straight. My characters were back conversing in my head and driving me crazy, and the muses were smiling. It’s what we call a breakthrough. I finished the first draft just shy of two weeks. Which, for me, is pretty dang fast. It’s not perfect, it’s got loads of problems, but. . . . for a rough draft. . . I think it’s quite fab. But I digress. . . . .
2) writing a good “hunky guy chopping firewood” scene can snap me out of a writing funk
3) I need to cut myself major slack
4) writing is easier when my mother is in town and cooking for me. Just knowing I have a freezer full of potato soup is soothing
5) it doesn’t help my writing to watch Vampire Diaries, but it sure is fun
6) I am productive under pressure, but I fear it ages me and drives those around me to want to run and hide
7) for a time, it’s okay to think that I don’t have any writing talents or marketable skills or reasons to be living. Obviously, that will all pass. If I can learn something from it (and then blog about it a week later), maybe those moments of panic aren’t in vain
Ophelia London 