I can say I’m a 2020 debut author. SALT+STILETTOS released April 21st, kicking off with a blog tour. I thought I was all prepared, thanks to an active and diverse 2020 debut group, watching friends release, and a network of supportive publishing peeps.
It’s been amazing and hectic and a learning curve all at once. The experience and my take on what worked, what didn’t, and what I wish I’d done differently deserves it’s own post, but since I’m still mid-release, I’ll have to report back later.
Also out this Spring is Glass Ceilings, my Urban Fantasy short story, in the Predators in Petticoats anthology.
Fellow MW peep Ken Schrader also has a story in this volume, along with Seanan McGuire, and Jody Lynn Nye, so clearly you need to go get you a copy.
Also-also, Stalking Horse, another UF story featuring Sam and Rachel from Road Trip, is part of Concrete Dreams: Witches, Warriors, and Wise Women. This anthology is scheduled to release in June, and the pre-order link is live.
You can catch me hiding out in my car and reading a Stalking Horse teaser here.
Finally, the first SALT+STILETTOS blog tour excerpt. You can follow the tour links to the complete excerpt.
Welcome to the first blog tour SALT+STILETTOS excerpt!
Despite attempting to ghost his unwanted stylist, thanks to a vlogger who captured Will’s first disastrous public appearance, his time is up. If her client won’t come to her, Brett will go to her client—whether he likes it or not.
Brett sipped her first coffee of the morning, the caffeine gearing her up for another day of arguing with her stubbornest client. They’d gone round and round the day before, but she was old friends with the restaurant designer FDL used, and Eliza had agreed with Brett’s tie-in suggestions. Will required something as timeless yet vibrant as his food, not the here-and-gone trendiness he and Richard had initially chosen.
Brett slid into her truck, juggling the sleek Tom Ford satchel that served as her work bag, and the travel mug. The buzz from the coffee hummed through her veins.
As the garage door rose, her phone chirped. She backed out and closed the garage, stopping in the drive, and scanning the quiet neighborhood. Despite half a Xanax, it had been a night for vague anxiety and no sleep, so she beat even the early commuters.
At another series of chirps, Brett tapped the Bluetooth speaker on the dash. “Dare I ask?”
“Stop whatever you’re doing and click on the link I’m sending,” Tara, her co-stylist, instructed, voice clipped.
Tara wasn’t exactly an early riser, especially since she was now the face of the company at all after-hours events.
“Are you just getting in?”
“Yes. Be glad I stayed up to see the sun rise, because I also happened to check our pings just now. We have a problem. A six-foot plus chef problem.”