Good day, friends, fellow writers, and readers! It’s time to peek in on another author. This week we are talking with author Tamar Sloan about her new release, Make It Count. So, let’s not have me ramble anymore and get right to it!
Make it Count is a young adult contemporary romance, admittedly fueled by a touch of the impossible. It tells the story of impulsive, fun-loving Casey and the ability she was born with – if she touches another person she sees the number of days they have left to live. Casey fakes a phobia to avoid touch, and she convinces herself she’s happy in her isolated, safe little bubble. Until irresistible, motorcycle riding PJ comes along. The chemistry is hot, the sparks fly. And Casey is about to learn how to live a life that counts.
Interesting. I love a good twist in a novel like this character’s unique ability. I am always intrigued by other writers and where their ideas come from. What was the inspiration for Make it Count?
Make it Count, a young adult contemporary romance, is one of those books that comes to you at 4am and you just know it’s going to be a special story. It started with the seed – what if with one touch, a girl could see how many days a person has to live? Apart from all the heart-wrenching considerations like touching your loved ones, I knew she’s avoid touch at whatever cost. But then PJ arrived, and he was hot, and irresistible. I had to capture their chemistry, and their story.
I’m convinced that the best ideas come in the wee hours of the morning. Unfortunately, so do some of the worst ideas (when you’re sleep deprived) 🙂
When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?
Interestingly, I never considered I’d be a writer. As a child I loved to read (I devoured romance novels from the moment I discovered them), but it NEVER occurred to me that I could write one myself. My first book came to me in a dream (so cliché, right?). But it was an idea that wouldn’t go away, which meant I had to go learn how to write… Several months later, with a healthy dose of muttered curse words, my first book of the Prime Prophecy series, was born.
What a cool story! I think for most people the love of writing is birthed from the love of reading. Books, books, and more books, right? I wish I could hold on to the images in my dreams long enough to capture them on paper. I always ask: do you have any suggestions to help me become a better writer?
Never stop growing.
Speaking of reading inspiring our writing…what are you currently reading?
About 20 books at once! I’m one of those nerdy people that love non-fiction just as much as fiction, so right now I’ve got a book going on human curiosity along with another one on chaos theory (I’m so fascinated by it and its intersection with fate – can you predict the future or not?, and its going to be the basis of a romance once day…). Fictionwise, I’ve got The Time Traveller’s Wife setting next to my bedside table (please don’t ask me to spell that authors name…), it’s really (and I mean, really) good!
I have actually read The Time Traveller’s Wife. You’re right, it is good! I try to alternate between fiction and non-fiction, but I can’t boast the same love of non-fiction. I…appreciate it.
I’m always pushing for that one more secret for my readers. Can you tell us something about your new release that is NOT in the blurb.
There are a host of fascinating characters that readers are going to fall in love with. Casey has a best-friend who’s kooky and loves to make up new words and into palmistry and iridology. Casey also one has three brothers. I have a soft spot for her youngest, Harry, he’s mango haired and freckled, and a vital key in Casey understanding how her fear controls her. Then again, her two older brother, Zach and Ethan, will have entire books dedicated to their stories in the Touched by Love series…
Wow. It sounds like you’ve paved the way for a great series. Do you have any current projects you’re working on? Care to share?
Book 2 of the Touched by Love series is Zach’s story. He has a gift that even his family don’t know about, that’s a little more subtle than Casey’s, but is going to pose a challenge for the girl he has his heart set on. The very same girl who’s been in love with him for a very long time…
Thank you so much, Tamar, for being on my blog today and sharing about your book! And so, readers, without further ado, let’s charge on and get a better look at the book. And, hint, hint, there may be an excerpt below!!!
Make It Count
He’s irresistible…but she’s the one person who knows his days are numbered.
Casey’s touch can reveal the one thing a person would never want to know — the number of days they have left to live.
By the time Casey turns seventeen she’s learnt to withdraw. But the phobia she fakes in order to avoid human contact is sorely tested by hot, persistent, motorcycle riding PJ. For a girl who craves contact, maple eyed PJ is impossible to resist. When the inevitable happens, when hands, bodies and lips collide, Casey sees PJ’s number, one that can only be seen as a cruel twist of fate.
Now she must decide. Will she continue counting the days of her life, or start living a life that counts?
With the memorable writing and humor of writers such as Jandy Nelson’s I’ll Give You the Sun blended with the attitude, chemistry and unexpected plot twists of Katie McGarry’s best sellers, Make it Count is a romance that will leave you swooning and smiling.
Enjoy an Excerpt
A few steps down the path I slip the brownie from my sleeve. There’s no way I can wait to get out of the front yard before I taste this square of temptation. I should be sainted right alongside Ari’s grandson for not wolfing down the whole platter.
There’s a mega-sized tree in the front yard, so I head around it, lean back against its bark watching the brownie’s slow approach to my mouth, savouring the moment. I smell the chocolate, the sugar, the awesomeness. I bite down and my eyes flutter closed. Oh. My. Heaven-loving-tastebuds. Galaxies of spun sugar dissolve in my mouth, symphonies drowned out by the roaring in my ears. My body mirrors what’s happening in my mouth; I’m slowly, deliciously melting into a gooey, thick puddle.
The roaring stops.
“If you like my cooking, you’d love how I make breakfast.”
Everything stops. Every cell goes from puddly and quivery to upright and alert. I know that chocolately voice. I’ll never forget that warm, rich timbre.
I open one eye, then two.
PJ is sitting on his motorbike, helmet on his lap, that grin glinting in the sun. He hangs the helmet on a handlebar, swings a long denim leg over and swaggers towards me. And I mean a hip swaying, shoulder swinging swagger that evokes images of yellow-striped, denim-clad butts.
The moment he’s close enough for me to focus on his eyes the brownie turns to bread in my mouth. It could never compete with the symphonies and stars in those molten maple pools.
“They’re a family recipe.”
My brain clicks out of brownie-PJ heaven and into gear. Hang on a sec. I look over my shoulder at the door, the door that was just closed by a woman the colour of brown sugar. I look back to the very white, hot guy in front of me.
The moment PJ stops I take a step back, out of arm’s length, and out of smell’s reach. His eyes narrow ever so slightly as he notes my movement. He crosses his arm. “Yeah, family.”
I wait, but it seems someone else in this town took the course on stubborn silence. Instead he grins again. Man, I wish he’d stop doing that. Here, in the sun, it’s blinding. “I’m flattered.”
I raise a brow.
PJ shrugs, and somehow the movement seems to bring him a millimetre closer. Moving again would be rude and weirdo-whacky so I stay put, choosing to breathe through my mouth.
“It takes some effort to find out where a guy lives.”
My jaw slackens. Ego much?
“Hmmm.” I step to the side and head to his motorbike. “I’m glad you brought a second helmet.”
PJ turns and follows me, I step around the bike, using it as a barrier.
He places a hand on the leather seat. “You wanted to come for a ride?”
Eyes wide with mock shock connect with molten maple. “Don’t you need it for your ego?”
Instead of looking insulted, PJ grins. A wide, teeth-glinting, eye-wrinkling grin. “I think I might; it just got one heck of a hit.”
I cross my arms, glad I can do it safely this time thanks to my Personal Protective Equipment.
PJ brings one hand up to stroke his chin. “So you’re not here to see me.”
“Difficult to imagine, isn’t it?”
“What else would bring you here?”
Those delicious lips twitch. He knows exactly why I’m here. I’m not much of a blusher, but being here, for a therapy group for a phobia I don’t have, wearing the freaky lengths I have to go to avoid touch seems like a pretty good time to blush.
But I didn’t wear a balaclava, so instead, I own it. “I have ablutophobia.”
PJ’s eyes stray to my lips. “Well, it’s not a fear of brownies.”
I resist the urge to lick their suddenly dry surface. “Or the repeated use of pick-up lines.”
PJ chuckles, and it’s a sound that reminds me of crème brûlée, smooth and moreish. “Maybe it’s a phobia of stepping up to a challenge.”
That has me straightening. Everything in my impulsive but necessarily inhibited personality loves a challenge. PJ quirks a brow, and leans forward, placing both hands on the seat. The position pushes his shoulders forward, focuses my attention on those biceps. Mr. Sexy-Comes-Naturally is waiting for me to pick up the gauntlet.
Sensations and sights sharpen. Those molten maple pools watching me. The heat pressing against my body. Those Adonis lips parting on an inhale. The bead of sweat raking down my spine.
I lean forward, and my eyes widen the moment my next sense registers something. A scent, the kind of scent that has your head tilting reflexively, your mouth opening just a touch to see if it will land on your tongue.
I don’t know what amber smells like, but I think this could be it. Woodsy, spicy…tempting…moreish. It’s the kind of smell that makes you wish you could spend more time breathing in than out. One hand reaches out to the red plastic fender rising from the back of the bike. The moment woven cotton presses into my fingertips, rather than smooth plastic warmed by the sun, I stop. It’s all I need to return me to reality.
I take a step back, having to mentally force my nose to follow. PJ was never meant to get close enough to smell, because exactly what I thought would happen just happened.
He smells as good as he looks, and I don’t need any more temptation to fight.
I take another step back. “You’ve got the wrong girl, PJ.”
PJ exhales, possibly because of the pent-up tension, but probably out of frustration. “It seems we have one thing in common, Casey.”
With another step back I decide it’s safe to ask. “What’s that?”
PJ straightens, his eyes twinkling. “We both love a challenge.”
I start to walk backwards, shaking my head. “The difference is I can pick a lost cause.”
I turn and start creating even more distance between us. I walk away from hot, sexy, available maple, knowing this is what I need to do. Telling PJ, with everything I can, he’s wasting his time.
“See you at mini motos.”
I keep walking. The tenacity is admirable and flattering, but wasted. “I’m not going.” I call over my shoulder.
“Don’t forget to bring your little brother.”
I shake my head, glad PJ can see that and not my smile. Sure, I love to look, I like the flirting, and I’d love to be someone that could go there.
But PJ is the last person I plan on touching.
Purchase Link: https://books2read.com/MakeitCount
About the Author
A school psychologist by day, Tamar channels her passion for books into creating young adult stories about discovering life and love beyond our comfort zones. She is the award-winning author of the Prime Prophecy and Touched by Love Series. Tamar is also the author of PsychWriter: where psychology meets writing, a blog that supports and extends writers.
When not reading, writing or working with teens, Tamar can be found with her ever-patient husband and two beautiful sons enjoying country life on their small acreage in the Australian bush.
Tamar finds it deeply rewarding to share her stories and she loves to hear from her readers and fellow lovers of all things book related.
Connect with Tamar Sloan and Her Books
Hello, all. I told you my posts would take a different turn. Well, before I get too far into this OVERCOMER thing, I thought I should let you in on my story, my battle with depression.
It begins…like this:
Once upon a time…a miracle happened. The birth of my first child. And she was beautiful and perfect and everything she should have been.
And my thoughts about what I should be as a mother kicked in. I had always thought I would be a cross between Mother Theresa and Martha Stewart. I would be SUPERMOM!
But, as I came to find out…”Expectations are pre-meditated miseries”
I should have been happy! Right? I had this perfect little family. This wonderful life.
But I wasn’t. I was irritable, obsessive, compulsive, and anxious. Yet, I didn’t know what to do with these things. So, I suffered in silence.
Then, came another miracle – my second child. A beautiful baby boy. Just as perfect and wonderful as my daughter.
Still, something wasn’t right. I was sad, empty, and I began to withdraw.
I wondered what was happening to me?
It was actually when I was flipping through channels and stopped briefly on Dr. Phil that I had the lightbulb moment. He was listing the symptoms of depression and I knew. I KNEW.
I talked to my husband and we made an appointment with my OB-GYN. Then came the diagnosis, and with it medication. Eventually, a psychiatrist, and counselor.
I’d love to tell you everything started looking up. I mean, I did all the right things, right?
My symptoms became worse.
My whole world was my bedroom, my bed, and the occasional visit to my psychiatrist or my counselor.
I had intrusive suicidal thoughts. And if you’ve never been depressed, it’s difficult to explain these. If you, too, have been in this dark place, I don’t even need to tell you. They became more and more compulsive until one day I couldn’t overcome them.
It was time to get more help. And so, I landed in a Behavioral Health Hospital.
More story to come…
Don’t Give Up (Even When It Gets Hard)
by Rachel Magee
I love writing stories. I always have. My favorite part is writing the first draft, when the story comes together and the characters’ journeys arc toward growth. There’s nothing more satisfying or relaxing to me than letting the story that’s in my head flow out onto the paper. Or, you know, the computer screen.
But some days being a writer is just plain hard. There are days when the words don’t flow, when the edits seem endless and the rejections are relentless. Ever been there?
At one point, about a year into my adventure of trying to get published, I hit a particularly low point. All of the time and energy I had poured into my manuscripts seemed to be going nowhere. I felt lost and alone, and I was contemplating giving up. Maybe I just wasn’t cut out to be a writer.
That night I was reading with my son before bedtime. We finished the book and flipped to the jacket where the author had her acknowledgements. Among the people she thanked was her agent.
“What’s an agent?” my son asked.
“Someone who helps you get your book published,” I told him. He thought about it for a second.
“You should call her, Mom. I bet she would help you get your book published, too.”
It was at that moment that I knew I had to keep writing. My son was proud of what I was doing and believed that if I put in the hard work I would succeed. Who can give up with that kind of support behind them?
After I kissed my son goodnight, I went downstairs, flipped open my computer and got back to work.
The one thing I learned that night was that being a writer takes two things: a lot of hard work and a great support system. There is no fast track to the end of a book or short cut to success. Stories are written one – sometimes painful – word at a time. And, while you might spend a lot of time by yourself at a computer, it’s not a solitary profession. You have to find your people who believe in you, who will encourage you along with way. The people who won’t let you give up and will cheer the loudest at every, single success.
Some days being a writer is tough, but keep at it. There is a world out there that needs to read your story in a way that only you can tell it.
That is so true, Rachel! Thank you so much for those words and for being on my blog today! I hope you will tell us a little about your novel.
My debut novel was released last month. Here’s a bit about it.
Lainey Stratton does not fall in love with strangers she meets on vacation. It simply doesn’t make logical sense. So when Lainey meets Carter Thompson on the first day of her Caribbean vacation, she knows it could never amount to anything more than a crush. At the end of the vacation she will return to Dallas and he will return to DC, and that will be the end of it. Well, unless he wants to join her at a friend’s destination wedding, which would be considered vacation too, right?
But when an unexpected tragedy sends Lainey’s logical world spiraling out of control, she realizes her vacation crush might be the only one who can help her pick up the pieces of her shattered life. That is, as long as she can get out of the way of her own happiness. And as long as Carter’s past doesn’t catch up with him before she gets a chance.
I always have to be in the right mood to write. My music is key for me. What about you? What kind of music do you listen to while you write?
I love to listen to music when I write. What I listen to depends on my mood or the mood of what I’m writing, but usually I like modern love songs. Adele, Michael Buble, and Ed Sheeran are among my favorites right now.
Love me some Michael Buble! Okay, one last question… Tell us something about your newest release that is NOT in the blurb.
Because this is a story about a long distance relationship, there are a lot of different settings. If you’re in the mood to travel, this book is a great getaway!
Thank you again, for coming on the blog today! I am all too eager to hear more about your book. As, I’m sure, are my readers. And Rachel has included a GIVEAWAY! Find details below.
Happily Ever Afters
It’s always a bit of a chance picking up a book by an author you don’t know and haven’t really heard anything about. I do believe this is Rachel Magee’s first book and if it isn’t, it’s MY first book by this author. I was hopeful going in, but unsure. Man, I am SO glad I joined in for this book tour because this book was fantastic. It’s more than just a sweet romance, it’s a journey filled with emotion and growth… ~ Amazon Reviewer
Rachel wrote her first novel when she was twelve and entered it into a contest for young author/illustrators. Unfortunately, the judges weren’t impressed with her stick figures. So she dropped the dream of becoming a world famous illustrator and stuck to spinning stories. When she’s not busy working on her latest book, she loves to travel with her family and friends. By far, her favorite destination is the beach, which tends to work its way into most of her stories. Between vacations, you can find her at home in The Woodlands, TX with her wonderful husband, their two adventurous kids and a couple of spirited pets, all of whom share Rachel’s love of the ocean. Well, except the cat and dog. They’re both afraid of water.
Connect with Rachel
Rachel is offering this beautiful coffee mug and tea. Here’s how it works. Comment on the post below. Share your thoughts with Rachel, ask her questions, let me know what you’d like to see on the blog, whatever. Or answer the question below. Every person who comments will be entered in to a drawing for the set. Entries will be accepted until Thursday evening, October 12, 2017, at 11:59 pm (CST).
Where is your favorite place to vacation?
Hello, all! I hope you are well and enjoying the changing of the colors in the trees and the weather (in some locales). Today, I wanted to broach the subject of depression in this “Overcomer” series.
I am a three time postpartum depression (PPD) survivor. That’s a pretty significant thing for me. My children are pretty close in age. And, as some of you already know, the recovery from depression can take a long time. So, from about mid-2009 until I would say 2015, I was either in the throes of depression or in recovery. And I would not say that I am completely recovered. I still have bad days here and there, days where I feel as if I’m on the edge of that darkness, where I have to fight to keep myself from drifting back in.
But I wanted to talk a little about my writing. I don’t know any author whose struggles, life, and hurt places don’t at least leak into their work. This is true of me.
The Lady Bornekova
My debut novel was The Lady Bornekova. And, when penning it, I had already had some experience with depression. Maybe I couldn’t help it, maybe it just seemed to fit what was happening to my character, perhaps a little of both…but some of what I went through seeped onto the page.
First, you should know that I am passionate about sharing my story. Why? Are you not a little embarrassed to share? Yes and no. I am not proud of that time in the darkness, of the intrusive thoughts, of my weakness…sharing certainly makes me vulnerable.
But, more important than that, is the fact that many suffer in silence. Many fear they are alone. I want to be the voice that says “you are not”. There is help. And I so badly want to fight the stigma that exists around mental illness in general, PPD specifically.
Back to “The Lady Bornekova”…the main character, Karin, goes through a devastating experience. This throws her into a state of depression. However, depression wasn’t known by that name (this is in the 1400s – think Medieval Period). In fact, little was known about mood disorders. But I wanted it to be clear that this is what she was experiencing. So, I did my best to be true to history while not sacrificing reader awareness.
Here is an excerpt from the book:
Karin woke each day with no desire to remove herself from the bed. Not even the dawn streaming through the window could brighten her mood. Her heart ached, yes, but it was more. The world no longer held promise; it was a dark place. Everything was bleak, as if the darkness were something physical that could smother her. Many days she wished it would so she would not have to feel the way she did.
She could not find the motivation or the strength to pray. This may have been the worst of it—to have no one to turn to. In the weeks prior, when she had been in such a hopeless situation, she always had prayer. When all else had seemed grim, she found solace in prayer. But there was no light to be found there now–nothing, it seemed, could penetrate this dreariness. And so it continued to envelop her, day after day.
~ Turnquist, Sara R. “The Lady Bornekova” (Clean Reads, 2015)
Could I have written this scene and those that followed without the personal experience of that darkness? I don’t know. Not everything I have written have I personally experienced. Nor has every author who has written about depression experienced it.
But I remember these things well: the lack of motivation/energy, the intense feeling that the outside world was not safe, that there was no point to getting out of bed, and, among other things, that my prayers returned void.
The worst of it…
As is true for Karin, the worst of it may very well have been: Where was my help from above? Had He not promised to be there for me without fail? And here I was in the darkest, most desperate moment, and I could not sense Him, could not find Him…
It wasn’t until I was in the Behavioral Hospital (you know, after rock bottom), and I had NOTHING but the clothes on my back and furniture, bolted to the floor. That night, I had nothing left but to cry for the pitiful state I found myself in. Then He whispered to me:
Don’t be afraid, for I am with you.
Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you.
I will hold you up with My victorious right hand
It was not that He wasn’t there. It was that my eyes were so blinded by my circumstance, by my own pain, that I couldn’t see Him. He never left me. It wasn’t that I found Him when I was “ready”…He broke through at the point of my greatest need.
I am not here to tell you that this meant I didn’t have a lot of work in front of me. I did. And Karin had a process too. Unfortunately there are no overnight cures. But there is help. There is hope.