Monday, June 24, 2013
CBLS Promotions - Virtual Book Tour Organization for Romance Authors: #BookTour: ""Morrigan" by Laura DeLuca @authorldel...
CBLS Promotions - Virtual Book Tour Organization for Romance Authors: #BookTour: ""Morrigan" by Laura DeLuca @authorldel...: Morrigan by Laura DeLuca YA Fantasy Romance Publisher: Pagan Writers Press Release Date: November 9, 2012 Heat Level: Sweet Word Coun...
Friday, June 21, 2013
Suspense From Joan Hall Hovey Blurb Blitz
Therapist Melanie Snow is driving to her office when her Honda is struck by a dark-colored van and sent spinning into a ditch, where it catches fire. The driver never stops. A passerby pulls Melanie from the car just seconds before it explodes.
Waking from the coma nine days later, she is devastated to find she is blind.
As Melanie struggles to cope with her new reality, life as a blind woman, her fragile state of mind is further threatened by a madman who is stalking and strangling disabled women. The first two victims were mentally challenged and Detective Matt O’Leary, who carries a torch for Melanie, (even though Melanie is engaged to someone else) tells himself she is not the killer’s targeted prey. But then a woman who lost a leg to cancer is murdered, and another physically disabled woman is stalked. Even with a whole town in terror, Melanie refuses to live her life in fear and reopens her practice in the basement of her home. She has a living to earn.
And Detective Matt O’Leary must find a way to keep Melanie safe until the monster is caught. But how? Her door is now open to the public and the killer can just walk through anytime he chooses.
And he does.
Waking from the coma nine days later, she is devastated to find she is blind.
As Melanie struggles to cope with her new reality, life as a blind woman, her fragile state of mind is further threatened by a madman who is stalking and strangling disabled women. The first two victims were mentally challenged and Detective Matt O’Leary, who carries a torch for Melanie, (even though Melanie is engaged to someone else) tells himself she is not the killer’s targeted prey. But then a woman who lost a leg to cancer is murdered, and another physically disabled woman is stalked. Even with a whole town in terror, Melanie refuses to live her life in fear and reopens her practice in the basement of her home. She has a living to earn.
And Detective Matt O’Leary must find a way to keep Melanie safe until the monster is caught. But how? Her door is now open to the public and the killer can just walk through anytime he chooses.
And he does.
Eppie Winner ~ Best Thriller - 1992
SHE DARED TO CHALLENGE A MERCILESS KILLER
Raised in an atmosphere of violence and unpredictability, Ellen and Gail Morgan have banded together, survivors of a booze-fertilized battleground, forming a fierce united front against an often cold and uncaring world. When their parents are killed in a car crash, Ellen becomes the mother figure for Gail.
When fifteen years later Gail is brutally raped and murdered in her shabby New York basement apartment, practically on the eve of her big breakthrough as a singer, Ellen is inconsolable. Rage at her younger sister's murder has nearly consumed her. So when her work as a psychologist wins her an appearance on the evening news, Ellen seizes the moment. Staring straight into the camera, she challenges the killer to come out of hiding: "Why don't you come after me? I'll be waiting for you."
Phone calls flood the station, but all leads go nowhere. The police investigation seems doomed to failure. Then it happens: a note, written in red ink, slipped under the windshield wipers of her car, 'YOU'RE IT.' Ellen has stirred the monster in his lair … and the hunter has become the hunted!
Excerpt from DEFECTIVE:
Excerpt from DEFECTIVE:
It was mid-afternoon, overcast, and The East End Mall in Kingsdale was crowded with shoppers. The Eraser, as he liked to think of himself, sat at one of the molded plastic tables by himself, nursing a Pepsi and eating fries from a small cardboard plate, and people watching. It was one of his favorite things to do, especially in nice weather when the girls wore shorts or tight jeans, some with their tanned midriffs bare, skimpy tops that showed off their boobs and skinny jeans that accentuated their tight little butts. Why not? He was a normal guy, he told himself. He avoided looking at the ones with flab hanging over their waistbands. He had girlfriend once or twice, but it didn't last. The last one said he was weird and just stopped returning his calls. Well, to hell with her.
His eye strayed momentarily to the big screen monitor advertising Nike sneakers. Then it changed to a rent-a-car commercial and on to something else, but he'd already looked away. Idly dipping a French fry in the small pool of ketchup on his plate, he popped it in his mouth and went back to girl-watching. They did little for him today. His hand moved to cover the scratch that the retard left on his cheek, though it was fading now. That Polysporin ointment was good stuff.
Music played over the sound system, competing with the jabbering of shoppers, nothing he recognized. Probably supposed to keep people shopping, buying junk they didn't need. His gaze narrowed ever so slightly as a young girl with a silver ring in her lower lip and wearing black eyeliner got up from a table not far from him and limped heavily to the waste bin and dumped in the remainder of her meal, a half-eaten hamburger, fries. She sat the tray on top of the stack. Behind her, someone called out, "Hey, Lana," and the girl turned in his direction and took a step forward so he could see her full-length; she looked past his shoulder and waved. He felt his heartbeat rev up, his throat go dry.
His eye strayed momentarily to the big screen monitor advertising Nike sneakers. Then it changed to a rent-a-car commercial and on to something else, but he'd already looked away. Idly dipping a French fry in the small pool of ketchup on his plate, he popped it in his mouth and went back to girl-watching. They did little for him today. His hand moved to cover the scratch that the retard left on his cheek, though it was fading now. That Polysporin ointment was good stuff.
Music played over the sound system, competing with the jabbering of shoppers, nothing he recognized. Probably supposed to keep people shopping, buying junk they didn't need. His gaze narrowed ever so slightly as a young girl with a silver ring in her lower lip and wearing black eyeliner got up from a table not far from him and limped heavily to the waste bin and dumped in the remainder of her meal, a half-eaten hamburger, fries. She sat the tray on top of the stack. Behind her, someone called out, "Hey, Lana," and the girl turned in his direction and took a step forward so he could see her full-length; she looked past his shoulder and waved. He felt his heartbeat rev up, his throat go dry.
She had short dark hair, and was wearing a khaki skirt and cream-colored blouse. Her dimpled smile, the gleam of white, even teeth barely registered on him. He didn't even glance behind him at the woman who had called out to her. He had no interest. As he had no genuine interest in the woman who returned the wave, really.
No. It was her foot in its big brown shoe that drew and held his attention. Not brown exactly, but like tea when you put milk in it. Taupe. Yes, that was what his mother called that color. It was all he could see when he looked at her: that big clunking shoe. So ugly it offended him, as deformities of any kind offended him. Even horrified him. A chill had crept down his back. He had to work extra hard to keep the disgust and pity from his face. She was a mistake. A blight, a tragic spawn. She must be erased. Like when you're a kid and you draw a picture of something and it doesn't come out right. You just erase it. Or rip out the page, and start again.
He was the eraser of mistakes. The good Lord had chosen him to do this work. Not that he was blaming God. No, there was no blame to be handed out here. Some small voice told him his reasoning was flawed, that that wasn't why they had to die. But he wasn't listening. As people were born of sin, women carried the faulty limbs, twisted features and minds within them. Carriers. As his mother had been a carrier, her womb spewing forth a defective, barely human—thing. Not the defective's fault either. But since the flaw couldn't be repaired, the whole issue had to be erased. The burden lifted. The Eraser held that kind of power; he could end suffering, change lives for the better. He remembered well the very moment he had changed his own life but no time for that now. She was heading for the exit doors. He rose casually from his chair, tossing the remainder of his own fries and drink into the trash, dropped his tray on top of hers, and followed. He was really following the 'shoe'. His eyes were riveted on the shoe. It filled his vision, his consciousness. That big, ugly shoe that rose and fell, rose and fell, her left hip dipping in sync, the shoe dragging it downward, seeming an entity in itself. When she stepped through the automatic doors into the grey, drizzly day, he was right behind her. Close enough to touch her. He buried his hands deep in his pockets to stifle the urge.
The bus pulled up with a hiss of air brakes and a belch of exhaust, and she hitched herself up onto the step. He followed, paid his fare. His bike was chained and locked in the parking lot; it would be fine. She took a side seat near the driver, and he sat himself two seats behind her and pretended to look out the window.
In the grayness of the day, his reflection in the glass was faint, but almost at once he could see his reflection begin to morph into that of another, as she had once been. A raindrop ran down the window and caught one corner of her mouth like the drool he remembered, couldn't forget, and he could not tear his eyes away. The small voice in his head spoke to him, sending the familiar chill through him, as if his heart had just received an infusion of ice water. The voice could form words now, where once it was capable only of mindless gibberish. "You know it's me in there, don't you. I'm watching you. I've come back. I'll always come back. I'll never leave you."
"No! No!"
Fearing he had cried out, he jerked his head around in sudden panic, but no one on the bus was looking at him. One man was reading a newspaper. A woman was talking and smiling at her little boy. Relief swept through him, but he was trembling just the same. A Chinese man seated across from him turned the page in his paperback, paying him no mind.
The girl had put earphones in her ears and her lips were moving to a song only she could hear. Her legs were crossed, the shoe swinging in time, mocking him.
He was the eraser of mistakes. The good Lord had chosen him to do this work. Not that he was blaming God. No, there was no blame to be handed out here. Some small voice told him his reasoning was flawed, that that wasn't why they had to die. But he wasn't listening. As people were born of sin, women carried the faulty limbs, twisted features and minds within them. Carriers. As his mother had been a carrier, her womb spewing forth a defective, barely human—thing. Not the defective's fault either. But since the flaw couldn't be repaired, the whole issue had to be erased. The burden lifted. The Eraser held that kind of power; he could end suffering, change lives for the better. He remembered well the very moment he had changed his own life but no time for that now. She was heading for the exit doors. He rose casually from his chair, tossing the remainder of his own fries and drink into the trash, dropped his tray on top of hers, and followed. He was really following the 'shoe'. His eyes were riveted on the shoe. It filled his vision, his consciousness. That big, ugly shoe that rose and fell, rose and fell, her left hip dipping in sync, the shoe dragging it downward, seeming an entity in itself. When she stepped through the automatic doors into the grey, drizzly day, he was right behind her. Close enough to touch her. He buried his hands deep in his pockets to stifle the urge.
The bus pulled up with a hiss of air brakes and a belch of exhaust, and she hitched herself up onto the step. He followed, paid his fare. His bike was chained and locked in the parking lot; it would be fine. She took a side seat near the driver, and he sat himself two seats behind her and pretended to look out the window.
In the grayness of the day, his reflection in the glass was faint, but almost at once he could see his reflection begin to morph into that of another, as she had once been. A raindrop ran down the window and caught one corner of her mouth like the drool he remembered, couldn't forget, and he could not tear his eyes away. The small voice in his head spoke to him, sending the familiar chill through him, as if his heart had just received an infusion of ice water. The voice could form words now, where once it was capable only of mindless gibberish. "You know it's me in there, don't you. I'm watching you. I've come back. I'll always come back. I'll never leave you."
"No! No!"
Fearing he had cried out, he jerked his head around in sudden panic, but no one on the bus was looking at him. One man was reading a newspaper. A woman was talking and smiling at her little boy. Relief swept through him, but he was trembling just the same. A Chinese man seated across from him turned the page in his paperback, paying him no mind.
The girl had put earphones in her ears and her lips were moving to a song only she could hear. Her legs were crossed, the shoe swinging in time, mocking him.
June 17: Straight from the Library
June 18: Nickie's Views and Interviews
June 19: The Snarkology of a Romance Author
June 20: Welcome to My World of Dreams
June 21: Sharing Links and Wisdom
June 24: Beyond Romance
June 25: Christine Young Romance Writer
June 27: Andi's Book Reviews
June 28: Dalene's Book Reviews
July 8: Blood Red Shadows
July 9: Sandra's Blog
July 10: Janna Shay's Fair Play
July 11: Deb Deb Reviews
July 12: Book 'Em North Carolina
July 12: STOP 2 Whit's Book World
July 15: fuonlyknew
July 15: STOP 2 Journey of a Bookseller
July 16: Wake Up Your Wild Side
July 16: STOP 2 Dawn's Reading Nook Blog
July 17: Bea's Book Nook
July 17: A to Z Reviews
July 18: STOP 2 Renee Luke
July 19: Worlds of Possibilities
Ms. Hovey has held workshops and given talks at various schools and libraries in her area, including New Brunswick Community College, and taught a course in creative writing at the University of New Brunswick. For a number of years, she has been a tutor with Winghill School, a distance education school in Ottawa for aspiring writers.
She is a member of the Writer's Federation of New Brunswick, past regional Vice-President of Crime Writers of Canada, Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime.
www.joanhallhovey.com
Praise for Joan Hall Hovey’s Books
“…suspense that puts her right up there with the likes of Sandford and Patterson..." Ingrid Taylor for Small Press Review
"...Alfred Hitchcock and Stephen King come to mind, but JOAN HALL HOVEY is in a Class by herself!…" J.D. Michael Phelps, Author of My Fugitive, David Janssen
"…CANADIAN MISTRESS OF SUSPENSE…The author has a remarkable ability to turn up the heat on the suspense… great characterizations and dialogue…" James Anderson, author of Deadline
"...a gripping style that wrings emotions from everyday settings. Oh and by the way ...is your door locked?" Linda Hersey - Fredericton Gleaner
"...will keep readers holding their breath until the very end..." inthelibraryreview, Melissa Parcel
"This one is a chiller - you won't be able to put it down - guaranteed!"- Rendezvous Magazine
"If you are looking for the suspense thriller of the year-look no further…you will find it in Nowhere To Hide..." Jewel Dartt Midnight Scribe Reviews
"…CANADIAN MISTRESS OF SUSPENSE…The author has a remarkable ability to turn up the heat on the suspense… great characterizations and dialogue…" James Anderson, author of Deadline
"...a gripping style that wrings emotions from everyday settings. Oh and by the way ...is your door locked?" Linda Hersey - Fredericton Gleaner
"...will keep readers holding their breath until the very end..." inthelibraryreview, Melissa Parcel
"This one is a chiller - you won't be able to put it down - guaranteed!"- Rendezvous Magazine
"If you are looking for the suspense thriller of the year-look no further…you will find it in Nowhere To Hide..." Jewel Dartt Midnight Scribe Reviews
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Rajasthani Moon VBT
Blurb:
Neither kink nor curse can stop a woman with a mission.
Neither kink nor curse can stop a woman with a mission.
Cecily Harrowsmith, secret agent extraordinaire, is a woman on a mission. When the remote Indian kingdom of Rajasthan refused to remit its taxes to the Empire, Her Majesty imposed an embargo. Deprived of the energy-rich mineral viridium, essential for modern technology and development, Rajasthan was expected to quickly give in and resume its payments. Yet after three years, the rebellious principality still has not knuckled under. Cecily undertakes the difficult journey to the rugged, arid land of the Rajputs to determine just how it has managed to survive, and if possible to convince the country to return to the Empire's embrace. Instead, she's taken captive by a brigand who turns out to be the ruler's half-brother Pratan and delivered into the hands of the sexy but sadistic Rajah Amir, who expertly mingles torture and delight in his interrogation of the voluptuous interloper.
Cursed before birth by Amir's jealous mother, Pratan changes to a ravening wolf whenever the moon is full. Cecily uncovers the counter-spell that can reverse the effects of the former queen's hex and tries to trade that information for her freedom. Drawn to the fierce wolf-man and sympathising with his suffering, she volunteers to serve as the sacrifice required by the ritual – offering her body to the beast. In return, the Rajah reveal Rajasthan's amazing secret source of energy. In the face of almost impossible odds, Cecily has accomplished the task entrusted to her by the Empire. But can she really bear to leave the virile half-brothers and their colourful land behind and return to constraints of her life in England?
Excerpt: Mild BDSM, rated XMorning sun filtered through the latticed windows, the intermittent light adding new patterns to the intricately-woven carpet. Cecily stirred in the nest of cushions Amir had scattered upon the floor at the foot of his bed. She stretched her bondage-stiffened muscles, wincing as embroidered satin abraded her punished backside. The Rajah’s spanking appeared to have irritated the welts from the flogging administered by his brother. What a pair of deviants!
A short chain tethered her ankle to the massive mahogany bedstead. Otherwise she appeared to be free—not counting, of course, her deadly collar. Rising to her knees, she peered at Amir, who lay careless and relaxed in sleep upon the fine linen sheets. With his eyes closed, luxurious lashes brushing his smooth cheeks and full lips slightly parted, he looked boyish, fresh and innocent. How appearances could deceive!
Was he merely feigning sleep? Cecily scrutinised his naked form, studiously ignoring the tell-tale swell below his waist. She could not detect the slightest evidence of tension. His gloriously-muscled chest rose and fell in a slow, regular rhythm. She held her palm above his luscious mouth and felt the warmth of his breath upon her skin. A faint aroma of almonds hung around him. She recalled the scented oil with which he’d greased her rear channel and shuddered, half disgusted, half aroused.
For the moment, the Rajah appeared to be in her power. Cecily knew many techniques for quickly and efficiently terminating a man’s life, without the need for excessive force or blood. It would be quite simple to eliminate this enemy of the Empire.
The train of thought came automatically, a consequence of her training. She dismissed it as impractical. She would still be a prisoner, and a proven assassin rather than merely a seeker of intelligence. Besides, what purpose would such a murder serve? Amir was far more valuable to her alive, as a source of information.
Underneath all her rationalisation, Cecily was keenly and shamefully aware of the fact that she could never kill this man—no matter how vicious or dangerous he might be. He had a hold on her, far stronger and more difficult to escape than his silvery chains. Her quim was still tender and raw from the effects of his infernal instruments—his sparks, his clamps and his cock—but she felt herself moisten as she gazed on his slumbering beauty. In his presence, what she truly wanted was to give in, to have him use her like the helpless captive she was.
Helpless? She shook her head as if to scatter her offending thoughts. What was wrong with her? Had the Rajasthani ruler cast some sort of spell over her? She should be focusing on escape. She might not have ferreted out all the Rajah’s secrets, but already she knew much that was of value. Furthermore, if she managed to get out of the palace, she could disguise herself and engage in some additional sleuthing…
“Good morning, pet.” Amir’s piercing eyes fluttered open and pinned her gaze, while his lips curved into a self-satisfied smile. Any semblance of innocence fled. “Did you sleep well?”
“I’m not your pet. Furthermore, I scarcely had a comfortable moment all night, due to the after-effects of your tortures.”
“Tortures? Please! Based on your reactions to my little games, I don’t think ‘torture’ is exactly the appropriate term, my delectable spy.”
He reached up, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her down on top of him.
“Ow!” Cecily began as the chain bit into her skin. His voluptuous lips sealed off any further commentary. She wanted to struggle but his arms were steel bands confining her. Her breasts mashed against his solid chest, the nipples plump and swollen as grapes, while the sweet rigidity of his cock poked into her from under the sheet.
It felt far too pleasant—outrageously so. Amir prised her mouth open and probed deep with his brazen tongue. She could not help imagining that tongue rooting in her cunny. Desire shimmered through her as she opened to him, savouring his flavour of cinnamon and fennel.
Clearly he sensed her surrender. He released his hold on her torso so that he could trace her bountiful curves, down over her hips to her buttocks. Seizing two handfuls of her opulent flesh, he ground his cock against her mound. His fingernails scored her arse and woke twinges of remembered pain that only fanned her need. Awkward because of her chains and his still-tight hold upon her, Cecily tried to spread her thighs, so that his erection would provide more direct stimulation. The sheet that separated their flesh was soaked by their pooled secretions.
She wanted to roll away, so that they could remove that barrier. Amir held her fast, determined, perhaps, to frustrate her, while he continued to ravage her mouth with astonishing ferocity. Even Cecily’s well-honed muscles were no match for his strength. She gave up, closed her eyes and allowed him do whatever he pleased. For now, at least, he was in control—and if she was honest with herself, she didn’t mind.
Lisabet will be awarding an E-Book from her back list to a randomly drawn commenter at each stop, plus a grand prize of a $50 GC to Amazon, B&N or AllRomanceEbooks (winner's choice) to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. To be eligible, commenters MUST include their email addresses in their comments. So the more you comment, the better your chances of winning!
June 10: My Reading Obsession
June 10: My Reading Obsession
June 11: Wicked Readings by Tawania
June 12: The Dan O'Brien Project
June 13: Triad Literary Works
June 14: Books to Light Your Fire
June 17: United By Books
June 18: Sharing Links and Wisdom
June 18: STOP 2 Long and Short Reviews
June 19: Day Dreaming Book Reviews
June 20: Stitch Read Cook
I became addicted to words at an early age. I began reading when I was four. I wrote my first story at five years old and my first poem at seven. Since then, I've written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and of course, lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly fifty books and counting!
In addition to writing, I also edit erotica and erotic romance. My editing credits include the ground breaking anthology Sacred Exchange, which explores the spiritual aspects of BDSM relationships, the massive collection Cream: The Best of the Erotica Readers and Writers Association, the charity anthology Coming Together: In Vein, a collection of vampire tales that benefits Doctors Without Borders, and six volumes of the Coming Together: Presents series of single author charitable erotica books. You'll also find me writing the newsletter and occasional articles for the Erotica Readers and Writers Association and monthly reviews for Erotica Revealed.
In addition to writing, I also edit erotica and erotic romance. My editing credits include the ground breaking anthology Sacred Exchange, which explores the spiritual aspects of BDSM relationships, the massive collection Cream: The Best of the Erotica Readers and Writers Association, the charity anthology Coming Together: In Vein, a collection of vampire tales that benefits Doctors Without Borders, and six volumes of the Coming Together: Presents series of single author charitable erotica books. You'll also find me writing the newsletter and occasional articles for the Erotica Readers and Writers Association and monthly reviews for Erotica Revealed.
I've always loved traveling; my husband seduced me in a Burmese restaurant by telling me tales of his foreign adventures. Since then I have visited every continent except Australia, although I still have a long travel wish list. Currently I live with him and our two exceptional felines in Southeast Asia, where I pursue an alternative career that is completely unrelated to my creative writing.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Terra Vonnel and the Skulls of Aries Review
Terra Vonnel and the Skulls of Aries; a thrilling high-seas adventure seen through the eyes of seventeen year old pirate Terra Vonnel, better known as the Sea Vixen. The roguish, yet charming girl has finally found one of the legendary Skulls of Aries, the greatest mystery known to man. With time running out she must now steal the remaining Skull from her vicious vampire nemesis, Count Dragos, and travel to Mount Aries to unlock the Gate of Monticule, which holds the Orb of Time. But what the Sea Vixen and her valiant crew do not know is something waits for them in the shadows of Mount Aries- something so unimaginable that no one has lived to tell about it. Full of excitement, the Skulls of Aries is an epic, breathtaking voyage packed with suspense-filled adventure, sword-clashing action, mystery and unforgettable characters!
My Review:
3 stars
This was an okay book for me. I had a few problems with this book that kept it from being higher than 3 stars. For one, the reader is thrown right into the story, with all sorts of info being thrown at you. If this was set in say modern day New York, that would be okay, since most people have an understanding of the world the story is in. However, this is set in a fantasy world with all sorts of paranormal beings, which requires some world building that is nonexistent. Events and characters are mentioned and then dropped and never explained. You get a taste, but no solution, which got aggravating after a while.Also, I had a hard time believing this book was okay for kids. There was a lot of detailed violence that seemed unnecessary in a children's book. For kids ages 12 and up maybe.
However, this was a quick read and an interesting adventure, and I will keep my eye out for the second book, and hopefully more info and explanations will be forthcoming.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Hacking Kickstarter, indiegogo Review
WARNING: DO NOT LAUNCH YOUR CROWD FUNDING PROJECT BEFORE READING THIS BOOK.
FACT: Over 65% of crowd funding projects fail. Why? Top 5 Reason's For Failure:
1) Campaign Missing Key Elements
2) Launched Before Gathering Their Tribe
3) Expected That if They Build It, They Will Come
4) Poor Advertising/Social Media Strategy
5) Lack of Partners
Hacking Kickstarter, Indiegogo (or any other crowd-funding site) How to Raise Big Bucks in 30 Days
walks you step by step into the process of creating, launching and wrapping your project.
Learn:
- How Curated Communities can give you added exposure
- How to get featured in Kickstarter and Indiegogo's newsletters (solid gold)
- How to grab funders attention the moment they land on your page
- How to generate traffic to your project
- How to easily find and target bloggers and journalist who want to publicize your project
- and much more!
Tried and true tactics, tips and secrets that work.
My Review:
I’d never heard of crowd-funding or Kickstarter till I discovered this book, so I had to do a bit of research to find out more about both before I read the book. Now, this isn’t a book on how to put a project together, it’s a book on how to succeed and get your project funded.
I greatly enjoyed this book, and learning all about the new (to me at least) world of crowd-funding. The book was engaging, plus there were plenty of helpful examples and recommendations. I definitely could tell that the author knew her stuff, and she seems like an expert on the process. The examples were helpful and relevant, as were the various sites she mentioned. The recommendations were great as well, some of which you couldn’t find just by googling them.
Also, I’m already considering using some of the advice she shared to increase exposure for my blog, so the book is useful even if you’re not doing a Kickstarter project yet. Plus, the author also included a section on how to succeed after a failure, which was great, since it often takes time and trial and error to succeed.
The only downsides I found with the book were the links and the grammatical errors. All the links that the author shared weren’t active, so when I clicked them they didn’t lead to the websites, though most of the sites weren’t that hard to find when I binged them, so it wasn’t too difficult to work around. It just took extra time and I couldn’t find some of the examples, which made it harder to visualize what the author was saying. Also, there were some grammatical errors that should have been fixed (ironically, that was part of her advice on how to succeed).
All in all though, this was an engaging read with plenty of advice, recommendations, and useful information, and I would highly recommend it not only for those looking to succeed with their crowd-funding venture, but also those looking to find success online (yes, that also includes fellow bloggers).
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