My updates from England can be found at the JanaOliver.com blog site. Cross posting while on the road is always dicey.
My updates from England can be found at the JanaOliver.com blog site. Cross posting while on the road is always dicey.
A number of years ago I promised myself that I would try to visit the UK every year or two so it is no surprise to you folks that I’m headed that way again. Unlike last year which was primarily a full-out school tour (11 stops in 5 days, plus train travel) this trip is going to be a little more laid back.
But not without lots of luncheons, meetings, etc. The quiet time will be when we’re in Edinburgh right before we adjourn to York for the annual Jack the Ripper Conference. Wait? You’re going to that again? Didn’t they figure out that Montague Druitt Prince Eddy Randolph Churchill Walter Sickert was the Ripper. No, they’re still hunting for the culprit. I just happen to love the Victorian Era so I hang with those who know more about that time period than I could learn in a lifetime. And the single malt is good too.
For those who’d like to sit and have a cuppa/adult beverage somewhere along my travels, see my schedule below. If you don’t catch me this trip (there are no big public events, per se) I plan on returning next year for a longer stay. I want to buy a BritRail pass and pop around England and Scotland, meeting my readers and chatting. But this year’s trip isn’t going to allow too much of that.
If you can’t locate me, tweet me @crazyauthorgirl and say “Where are you, woman?”
I will be gracing a table at The Salisbury on Saturday 22/9 from 7:30-9 pm. You’ll find me by looking for the wee green demon sitting on my table. I’ll also be wearing a royal blue Demon Trappers tee shirt with the big winged logo. The Salisbury is located on St Martin’s Lane in Covent garden and the closest Tube station is Leicester Square. It is one of my fave Victorian Era pubs with a gorgeous mahogany interior and etched glass. Their food and beverage choices are top notch.
The Elephant House is a coffee shop known to J.K. Rowling lovers — she wrote some of her early works there. It’s located on George IV Bridge and has really good food and ambiance. I’ll be there Sunday evening 23/9 from 6-7:30 pm. Again I’ll be wearing the royal blue Demon Trappers tee shirt and the green demon will be prominently displayed on the table.
Deets to come
Hope to catch up with some of you guys!! And now to pack….
It’s been a crazed few weeks as FORETOLD launched in the UK. Behind the scenes I have been madly working on interviews and other “content” for the TWO blog tours, both of which will be happening simultaneously. Please visit the blogs, leave comments and sign up to win all sorts of prizes. And thanks again for all your love and support. You guys rock.
The first blog tour has been coordinated by my publicist at Macmillan Children’s Books.
Feeling Fictional (Denver Beck Character Profile & FORETOLD review)
I Want to Read That (Jana’s Bookshelf Article & FORETOLD Review)
Reading a Little Bit of Everything (Riley Character Profile courtesy of Peter King)
Kate’s Book Life (Book Giveaway)
Blog Tour the Second has been arranged by the talented folks at Dark Mind Book Tours.
While Riley and Beck are in South Georgia, things are hotting up in Atlanta. This concludes the snippets for the new book. Hope you enjoyed them!
Stewart stood at the far end of the shopping mall near two magic users he now considered friends: Mortimer Alexander, a summoner, and Ayden the witch. They’d been called to put a stop to a magical dual and this was their second such call today.
‘Any idea how this started?’
‘Trash talking, probably,’ said Mort, his dark navy summoner’s robe hanging loosely from his shoulders. It looked like a tent on him as he was as wide as he was tall. ‘Ever since Lord Ozymandias raised those demons, there’s been hell to pay.’
He ducked a particularly poorly aimed spell and it struck the front of a New Age shop. Every single crystal inside lit up a Christmas display.
‘Witches can’t aim worth a darn,’ he said to their other companion.
Ayden cranked an eyebrow at the summoner, her auburn hair and full cleavage tattoo commanding attention no matter what clothes she wore. ‘You necros aren’t any better with that aim thing,’ she said, gesturing towards a gaping hole in the mall’s ceiling.
‘True, but –’
They both jumped as a blast of magic impacted a few feet from them, generating a swarm of tiny armour-plated butterflies armed with swords. A counterspell enveloped them and the winged warriors turned to brightly coloured confetti.
‘Time to shut this nonsense down,’ Stewart said. He stepped forward and planted his feet to prevent himself from being toppled by the magical waves rippling through the structure.
‘I’m Grand Master Stewart of the Atlanta Demon Trappers Guild. Cease and desist, this instant!’ he roared.
The dualists – a younger witch and an older summoner – ignored him. A wave of magic clawed its way up the walls, causing them to turn transparent, revealing the pipes and wiring underneath.
Mort joined the master. ‘Hey!’ he shouted. ‘Knock it off!’
The guy in the pale green robe opened his mouth to argue, but then clamped it shut, no doubt noting that Mort’s robe was darker than his. The darker the robe, the more power. This guy was outclassed and he knew it.
‘Ah, only if the witch stops,’ the necro called out, clearly nervous now.
‘Your turn,’ Mort murmured.
Ayden took her place next to the other two. ‘It is time to end this,’ she said.
‘He started it!’ the witch called back, slowly working a spell between her hands.
‘You’re not three years old. Lobbing spells around makes us look ignorant and we don’t need the bad press.’
FORETOLD © 2012 – Jana Oliver (Macmillan Children’s Books)
All Rights Reserved.
After Beck and Riley have visited his mom in the hospital, he takes her to his childhood home. This is told from his point-of-view as Riley explores his past.
Beck took the side streets to Sadie’s house, concerned about Riley’s silence since they’d left the hospital. That was Sadie’s trick: she’d get in your head and you’d find it hard to separate truth from lies. No matter what you said to the old lady, she sucked it up and spat it back at you as verbal acid. She was better at it than some of Lucifer’s demons.
Why does she try to destroy everythin’ good in my life?
He’d never hurt her. All he’d tried to do was to love her, and she’d had none of it since the moment he’d been born.
As he pulled up to the kerb in front of his childhood home, he felt his tension slowly uncoil. To him it was just a white house with faded black shutters that held few good memories. The shutters needed to be painted again, but he’d leave that to the new owner. It was small by most standards, dwarfed by the scraggly yard that surrounded it. An old well sat on one side of the house, topped by warped boards, and on the other side an aged magnolia tree dangled its massive branches on to the roof. There were no flowers or shrubs, nothing that indicated Sadie considered this her home.
Beck produced a key and opened the front door. The moment Riley stepped inside she began to cough. Now she knew why they weren’t staying here: the lingering reek of cigarette smoke coated your throat with every breath.
‘Better than it used to be. She quit smokin’ over a year ago,’ he said.
As Riley inched further into the front room he tried to see it through her eyes: a worn couch, a matching chair, an end table. The floors were wood with an occasional throw rug, and an old television sat on a stand in the corner. There were pictures on the wall, but they weren’t of family. This was Sadie’s self-imposed exile. If she’d been decent to him, he’d have come to see her more often. Family meant everything to him.
Even when they hate you.
Beck glared at the couch. That damned plaid thing was still there, mocking him. He could remember Sadie sprawled on it during her many drunken stupors and most of the time she wasn’t alone. He made a mental note to burn the thing the moment she was gone.
He pulled his eyes away from it and scanned the rest of the room. Nothing much had changed though the ashtray was empty, full of candy wrappers now. Maybe if he’d cut off the money for the smokes sooner she wouldn’t be dying.
When Sadie was younger and owned a car, she’d spent her time at one of the bars in St Mary’s or down in Florida. Sadlersville didn’t have any watering holes, but that hadn’t kept her from being a full-time alcoholic.
There was a deep frown on Riley’s face now, telling him she didn’t like what she was seeing. Damn, girl, why didn’t you stay in Atlanta? He felt naked, like he’d stripped off all his clothes and she was seeing every one of his flaws.
‘You lived here as a kid?’ Her voice quavered.
‘Yeah. My granddaddy bought the house for Sadie when she got pregnant with me. I think he hoped she’d settle down, get married. Stop drinkin’.’ He shook his head. ‘Just wishful thinkin’.’
Riley paused to peer into the rundown kitchen and then moved into the hallway towards the two bedrooms. She halted at the second one. ‘Was this your room?’
He nodded. At least when he was older and someone finally gave him a bed. When he was a kid, he’d sleep on the bathroom floor, on top of the dirty clothes, because it was the warmest room in the house. But Riley didn’t need to know that.
‘I had a Chris Hemsworth poster too,’ she said, smiling in recognition. ‘He made a totally hot Norse God.’
Beck mumbled his agreement. He’d left the poster behind when he’d gone up north. He could have taken it with him, but there hadn’t been time to pack much. For some reason Sadie had never pulled it down.
‘I thought he was kinda cool,’ Beck said. Maybe it was because the guy was strong, good-looking, in control of his life. Everything he’d never be.
Riley returned to the kitchen, took off her jacket and laid it across a chair. When she checked out the sink, she grimaced at what she found.
‘Sorry,’ he said.
‘Not your fault,’ she replied, and turned on the water. ‘What are you going to do with the house once . . .’
‘Sell it, I guess, once I get it cleaned out.’
‘I’ll help you,’ she said, then began moving dirty dishes out of the sink on to the counter.
‘Riley, I . . .’
She turned towards him, her hands dripping. ‘It’s not that bad, Beck. A little messy, but not horrible. It’s just so . . . sad, you know?’
He knew what she meant and it had little to do with dishes. The place had never been full of love like her family’s house. Even after Riley’s mom had died, her dad had made sure their tiny apartment was a home.
Beck had no idea what that was like. Once he knew Sadie didn’t care about him, he’d made his own life, separate from hers. He never stepped away completely – he couldn’t do that – but he tried to insulate himself from her as much as possible. She always found ways to hurt him.
FORETOLD © 2012 – Jana Oliver (Macmillan Children’s Books)
All rights reserved.
As mentioned before, there are spoilers in this section.
Beck takes Riley to the diner in Sadlersville, where she finds that his return to town is not welcomed by the locals.
‘How can you eat that much?’ she asked, still picking at her own meal. The burger had been enormous and the cottage cheese the extra-creamy kind.
‘I’m a growin’ boy,’ he said.
‘Well, you will be if you keep packing food away like that.’
Beck lowered his voice. ‘You aren’t like throwin’ up in the mornin’ or anythin’?’ he asked, eying her closely.
That was one subject he’d skirted until now – whether her night spent with Ori the Fallen angel had resulted in her becoming pregnant.
‘Nope, that’s not going to be a problem.’
His deep sigh told her he’d been worrying about that. ‘Well, there’s some good news for a change,’ he said, followed by a long slurp of his coffee.
Someone moved up to the booth and for a moment Riley figured it was Mr. Walker back for more harassment. But it wasn’t. This guy was a couple years older than Beck and a little taller with dark brown hair and dark eyes. He was dressed in a navy blue T-shirt that showed off his muscles and a pair of criminally-tight blue jeans. The smirk on his face was like a billboard that announced I Know I’m Hot.
Beck wore that same expression every now and then, but it looked like the default setting for this guy. The cold fire in Beck’s eyes told her that this wasn’t a friend.
‘Hadley,’ he said.
‘Hey, Denny. I heard you were back.’
Along with all the other Sadlervillians.
Riley gave the newcomer another look-over, and he smiled back. Cute.
When her eyes drifted back to Beck’s she found something new in them: raw jealousy. Maybe it was wrong, but part of her liked that a lot.
‘I’m Cole,’ the guy said, sticking out his hand.
She shook it to be polite, though she knew Beck wasn’t happy about it. ‘Riley.’
Beck shifted out of the bench seat in one swift move. For a second she thought he was going to challenge the guy, but instead he scooped up the bill and handed it and some cash to the waitress as she walked by.
‘Gotta be goin’,’ he said, picking up his trapping bag.
To Beck’s obvious dismay, Cole followed them down the street. The vibes off this guy made her skittish, if nothing more than the fact that Beck’s fuse was shorter than usual.
‘What brings you to the middle of nowhere?’ he asked.
Beck didn’t reply, so she did. ‘His mom.’
‘You know her?’ When Riley shook her head, he continued. ‘Well, then you’re in for a surprise.’
Wary, she shot a look over at her fellow trapper. The frown on his face was bone deep now. Riley swung her attention back to the guy walking next to her. Since Beck wasn’t talking, she might as well be polite. ‘So how do you two know each other?’
‘We used to hang together before he moved away.’
She guessed hang together probably including all those sins Backwoods Boy didn’t want her to know about.
So why are you talking to me? Are you trying to get under Beck’s skin or is it something else?
They’d reached the truck now and Cole leaned up against a light pole, the smirk back again.
‘See you later, Riley,’ he called out. ‘Don’t let Denny take you into the swamp. That’s a one-way trip.’
Beck’s growl echoed roughly in his throat. ‘Get in the truck, girl.’ The way he held himself told her not to argue.
Whatever was between these two guys was deeply personal.
‘Sure, why not?’ she grumbled. Riley took his keys and climbed into the pickup, making sure to slam the door to let Beck know she wasn’t happy with his dictator attitude.
Though she tried to hear what was said, they kept it quiet. She was willing to bet it was Beck telling Cole to stay the hell away from her and Cole suggesting his old friend go screw himself. She knew her guess was right when Cole laughed, winked at her and then walked away.
‘You’re cute, dude, but you’re totally suicidal.’
When Beck climbed into the truck, he looked ready to explode as his backpack thumped on the seat between them.
‘So what’s with him?’ she asked.
‘Nothing ya want to know,’ was the curt reply.
‘Tell me or I’ll ask Cole myself. You know me, I’ll do it,’ she warned.
He heaved a sigh. ‘He’s an arrogant SOB who will play all nice and then leave ya hangin’ out to dry. Or in yer case . . .’ He shook his head. ‘Just stay away from him. He’s bad news.’
‘Care to be more specific?’
‘No, I don’t. Ya have to take my word for it.’
Strangely enough she would do just that. Beck had always been too overprotective, but he had a sixth sense when it came to trouble. If he said Cole of the Dark Eyes was bad news, then she believed him.
‘Got it. I’ll keep out of his way.’
Beck gave her a bewildered look, as if he’d expected her to defy him. ‘OK . . .’
‘You’ve got enough going on without having to worry about that guy. I’m here for you, no one else.’
Something changed in his face. ‘Sorry. I’ve been really . . . mean. I’m not good with things down here. Too much bad stuff.’
‘Really? I hadn’t noticed,’ she jested, then grew serious. ‘I don’t care what you did or who you did it with when you were sixteen. It does not matter to me.’
‘I’d like to believe that. God, I would.’
‘Then when this is all over and we’re headed back to Atlanta, you ask me if I think any differently about you.’
‘Fair enough,’ he said, putting the truck in reverse and pulling out on to the street.
FORETOLD (c) 2012 – Jana Oliver (Macmillan Children’s Books)
All rights reserved.
Snippet #2 from FORETOLD. Despite Beck’s vigorous objections (and only after Master Stewart’s intervention), Riley has journeyed with him to South Georgia to help with Beck’s dying mother. This is her first visit to his hometown and it’s an total eyeopener since Riley has only lived in big cities (Chicago and Atlanta).
…Riley slung her backpack on to her shoulder and stepped outside into the warm afternoon sunshine. The moment her eyes adjusted she saw the cop leaning against the front bumper of Beck’s truck. His squad car was parked right behind it, blocking them in. The lettering on the side said this was the country sheriff who’d come to call.
If Riley had expected a stereotypical Southern cop she’d have been disappointed. This man was on the tall side, lean and without an ounce of fat, his dark blond hair cut short. He was wearing sunglasses, a trooper-style hat and his hands were crossed over his chest in a piss me off at your own peril pose.
When Beck exited his room, he halted in his tracks. His expression went unreadable in a heartbeat.
The cop took off his sunglasses and tucked them in his shirt pocket. ‘Heard you were back in town,’ he said in a soft drawl much like Beck’s.
‘Just got here,’ her fellow trapper replied, setting his backpack down.
‘Been to see your momma yet?’
‘Headed that way.’
‘From what I hear it won’t be long now.’
‘I hear the same,’ Beck replied, his jaw tight.
Hello? Am I invisible here?
As if the cop had heard her, he shifted his attention in her direction and tapped his hat in respect. ‘I’m Sheriff Tom Donovan.’ He looked over at Beck at this point. ‘Denver and I go way back.’
Beck chuffed in disgust.
‘I’m Riley . . . Blackthorne.’
‘You any relation to the master trapper in Atlanta?’ the cop asked.
‘He was my dad.’
The man nodded now that he’d made the connection. ‘Pleased to meet you, Miss Riley. Since Denver here couldn’t be bothered to pick up a phone, I had the pleasure of talking to your father every now and then.’ Another glance at Beck, then back to her. ‘Sorry to hear of your loss.’
‘How old are you?’
‘What? I’m seventeen. Why?’
‘Just checking,’ the man replied. ‘Folks will hear that Denver’s back in town and that he’s got someone with him. He has a history with the local girls, so tongues will wag. I can shut some of that down by knowing the real story.’
Beck took a step forward, a clear challenge. ‘Riley’s not one of those. She’s here to help with . . . her.’
Donovan sobered. ‘It won’t scald your tongue to call Sadie your momma.’
‘The hell it won’t.’
The sheriff shook his head and walked to his car. After he opened the door, he looked back at her. ‘Welcome to Sadlersville, Miss Riley.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, still unsure of what had just happened. The cop car pulled out of the parking lot and headed up the road.
‘So what was that all about?’ Riley asked.
Beck dumped his backpack on the truck’s seat.
‘Just welcomin’ me home,’ he replied.
FORETOLD (c) 2012 – Jana Oliver (Macmillan Children’s Books)
All rights reserved.
So let’s start at the very beginning of FORETOLD with a snippet from the opening chapter. If you haven’t read the first three books, please don’t read this as it’ll have SPOILERS galore. It starts four days after that momentous Riley and Beck scene at the end of FORGIVEN.
‘What could go wrong?’ Riley Blackthorne muttered under her breath. That wasn’t the kind of question she should ask while on a demon trapping run in one of Atlanta’s train stations.
What could go wrong? Everything.
She and two other trappers were stalking a Pyro-Fiend, a Grade Two demon whose Hellish job was to set fires. So far, it’d been having a grand time dropping fireballs in front of the MARTA trains, setting alight trash containers and, in one case, firing up a train car.
Usually Riley was all about capturing demons. Her late father, Paul Blackthorne, had been a legendary master trapper so it was in her blood. She should have been jazzed about this trapping run.
Not so much. Not when she was working with two guys who didn’t want to be anywhere near her.
They were both in their early twenties, blond and handsome, but there the similarities ended. The one to her right, her blue-eyed ex-boyfriend, wasn’t quite as hostile as he’d once been. In fact, Simon Adler hadn’t tried to splash her with Holy Water or accuse her of working for Hell during the twenty minutes they’d been on site.
Simon’s battle with a ravenous demon had left him mortally wounded, and if it hadn’t been for the deal Riley had cut with Heaven he’d be in his grave. Then one of Hell’s most deceptive Archangels had played hockey with his mind and his deep Catholic faith. When he’d finally found out who’d been pulling his strings and about her deal with Heaven, Riley’s ex had gone into free fall. The result was one confused guy who didn’t know what to believe or who to trust.
At least you’re not yelling at me anymore.
That privilege belonged to the guy on her left: Denver Beck, the muscled ex-military South Georgia dude who had served as trapping partner to Riley’s father until her dad’s death. Beck was usually a cool guy to work with. Today he was opting for total butthead.
He glowered over at them. ‘So what are we waitin’ for?’ he snarled. ‘Think the demon’s just gonna come up and introduce itself to y’all?’
‘It’ll show up soon enough. They always do,’ Riley replied, trying not to lose her temper. Then Beck would win.
‘Why would you think that?’
‘Because I’m here,’ she said. ‘Demons can’t resist trying to kill me.’
That earned her a sidelong glance from Simon.
‘Hey, it’s true. It’s not because I work for Hell, OK?’ Well, not entirely.
‘I didn’t say a word,’ he murmured.
‘You were thinking it.’
‘You two done?’ Beck demanded.
Riley shot the senior trapper a scathing glare and it came right back at her. Beck had been this way ever since he’d tossed her out of his house in a fit of self-martyrdom. Just when they’d grown so close, something in his past had caused him to push her away. This time Riley wasn’t going quietly, not when she knew she loved the guy.
Pushing ahead of the others, she worked her way through the crowd. It was a good time to be down here – in a few days the trains would be packed with people headed to or from the basketball games, all dressed in their favourite team’s colours. Or in the case of Clemson University, orange and black tiger tails.
Folks waiting for the next train gave her a concerned look. That wasn’t surprising since her face had been all over CNN and the newspapers in the last few weeks. It also might have had something to do with the small white sphere she was carrying.
‘You guys trappers?’ someone called out.
‘Sure are,’ Beck replied.
‘Time for me to take the bus,’ the guy said, turning on his heel and heading for an exit.
Riley sighed. Maybe it would have been better to evacuate the train station, but if this turned out to be a false alarm there’d be hell to pay at City Hall. As she continued down the platform, a train pulled in and passengers exited, including one man carrying a giant stuffed panda wearing a football helmet. Sometimes it was best not to know the real story.
A thin plume of white smoke curled out of a nearby trash container, catching Riley’s notice. Could it be the Pyro- Fiend? She shot a glance towards Beck and he shrugged in response.
The trappers positioned themselves on either side of the container.
‘Ready?’ Beck asked. When they nodded, he kicked the can over and trash tumbled out, along with a pile of burning napkins. Apparently someone had tossed a lit cigarette inside and now they had a mess to clean up. Plus MARTA passengers laughing at them.
Riley stomped out the fire, then kicked the junk back into the can. As she worked, Beck bitched under his breath about how this whole run had been a screw-up. As she bent over to nudge an empty doughnut box into the container, she felt the prickle of something touching her mind. Something demonic.
Blackthorne’s daughter, the voice called.
She shot up into a standing position. ‘It’s close. It name-checked me.’ There was the crackle of paper at her feet and a red demon crawled out of the trash. It was about eight or so inches tall, with forked tail and sharp teeth. A flame flickered on its right palm.
‘Trapper!’ it cried, and lobbed a fireball directly at Simon.
He dropped and kissed the dirty concrete as the roaring flames shot over the top of his head.
‘Hey, dumbass!’ Beck shouted, but the demon ignored him. It generated another flame to toss at Simon.
Riley stepped in its way, heaved a white sphere heavenward and waited for the snow to fall. Instead there was a cracking sound and then a shower of sleet: the magic inside the sphere had misfired. Cold rain pelted down on them and it set the demon to howling. Distracted, the fiend dropped its ball of flame and it rolled across the platform like a fiery tennis ball, past a wooden bench and two startled onlookers.
Demon or flame? Riley ran after the fire, fearing it would spread throughout the station if she didn’t contain it. Above her another snow globe cracked open and its contents swirled down like a North Dakota blizzard. The falling snow made the concrete slippery and she slid, cracking her knee.
The flame ball kept rolling towards a train car and its open door.
Panicking, she stripped off her jacket and threw herself on the ball of flames. Riley pounded at it with her hands as the fabric began to smoulder from the intense heat. The flames faltered and finally died.
Despite all the drama, people walked around her, one clipping her elbow as they hurried past to wherever they were headed. One couple laughed as she knelt there in the snow, her hair a mess and her jacket smoking. Someone began lobbing snowballs. After the train doors had closed, a small kid pressed his nose up against the window, eyes wide, watching her intently. She winked at him and to her surprise he shyly waved back as the train departed.
Maybe life doesn’t suck after all.
When she regained her feet, she found Simon holding a bait box containing the Pyro-Fiend and enough dry ice to keep it from playing firebug until they sold it to a demon trafficker. True to form, the thing was painting the station blue with its curse words.
A quick check around proved the train platform was devoid of gawkers except for a lone fellow with a cell phone busily recording their run. He’d probably have uploaded the video to the Internet before they left the station.
‘That was sloppy,’ Beck complained, hands on his hips. It was his ‘I’m gettin’ in yer face and you’d best listen’ pose. ‘What’s up with y’all?’
Riley would love to tell him exactly what was wrong if the guy with the cell phone hadn’t been nearby.
Simon managed a weak ‘Sorry.’
When Beck glared over at her, expecting her to apologize, Riley shook her head.
She jammed her roasted jacket into his hands and whispered, ‘Bite me.’
A note from Amy at Macmillan Children’s Books (my UK publisher) about how their crack Demon Trappers team spent this last Wednesday. This is incredible! I wish I could have been there! Thank you so much to all those who took part.- Jana
This Wednesday saw The Hunger Games UK Premiere take place at the o2 Arena in Greenwich. We decided to hijack it with a huge Demon Trappers sampling exercise . ..
A Demon Trappers street team dodged security guards and handed out 500 copies of the first book in the series (plus 800 flyers giving readers £2 off each book in the series) to the die-hard fans waiting for The Hunger Games celebs to cross the red carpet – the fans loved it and the books certainly got their complete attention whilst waiting an estimated 3-4 hrs for the premiere to start (to give you an idea of how close we got to the red carpet – the red carpet ran up to that blue escalator below)
I added commentary on the MyKindaBook site so you learn why I picked what song and why. I’ll be doing the same for the other books in the series, as well. Enjoy!!!