I Can Take a Hint

New cover for We Interrupt This Date


Based on input from readers and reviewers, I've gotten a brand new cover for We Interrupt This Date that more accurately reflects the tone and content of the book. The first time around, I told the cover designer I wanted to focus on the Southern fiction/family aspects of the plot and I was wrong. It turned out that the book is selling better as chick lit/romantic comedy. Paul Coleman http://bookpumper.com/  designed the new cover. I think he did a fantastic job. Now we'll see if readers feel the same.


About the book: 
Since her divorce a year ago, Susan Caraway has gone through the motions of life. Now she is finally coming out of her shell. Just when she decides on a makeover and a new career, her family members decide she's crisis central. First there’s her sister DeLorean who returns from California with a baby, a designer dog, and no prospects for child support or a job. As soon as DeLorean settles in at Susan’s home, Susan’s son Christian comes home from college trailing what Susan’s mama refers to as “an androgynous little tart.” Then there’s Mama herself, a southern lady who wrote the book on bossy. A secret from Mama’s past threatens to unravel her own peace. But not before Mama hurts her ankle and has to move into Susan’s home with her babies—two Chihuahuas with attitude. Susan would like to start her new job as a ghost tour operator. She would like to renew her relationship with Jack Maxwell, a man from her past. But Jack isn’t going to stand in line behind her needy family.


A short excerpt:


Patty finished ringing up a sale and waved from behind her register. “Thank God, Odell’s finally outta here. What’s going on?” She sashayed out from behind the counter to lounge against the doorway to my office.


“Nothing.” I put my fingers on my keyboard and glanced at her sideways.


She reached up and tugged her hair clips loose, letting her black hair fall from the loose pile on top of her head to a full cascade down her back. She’d once told me that there comes a time in every redneck woman’s life when she has hair down to her butt. Then she’d planted her hands on her hips and said, “Honey, except for my interest in the occult, I’m as redneck as they come.”


Odell makes her wear her hair on top of her head because he’d once had a cashier who caught her ponytail in the register and she threatened to sue when she had to cut a chunk of it off to free herself. But whenever Odell leaves early, Patty lets her hair down. In more ways than one. Now she turned on the radio Odell keeps on a shelf against the wall and danced and swayed in the doorway to Heartbreak Hotel.


“Need something, Patty?”


“Just curious. You’ve been in such a scatterbrained mood all afternoon. Carrying your mama to the doctor doesn’t usually have that effect on you, so I assume it was something your friend, the tight-assed businesswoman, said over lunch. Let me guess. She’s finally figured out money won’t buy her love, so she’s going to share with you in the hopes that will get her some points with the relationship gods and they’ll send her a decent man to warm her bed.”


I shook my head in mock sadness. “You’re awful.”


“I’d go home and burn some candles, but I’ve already forgiven myself for my bitchiness. Now tell me what’s got you smiling.”


“I told you, I’m simply in a great mood.”


I hadn’t realized I was smiling. But I didn’t dare tell Patty about Veronica’s plan to take me away from all this. It had come to nothing, but Patty couldn’t keep a secret if her lips were stuck shut with Super Glue.

The Little Book That Couldn't

Jobless Recovery is, so far, the little book that couldn't be perceived as fiction by potential readers.

Sometimes an author misses the mark with a book or the marketing. I recently learned that when some people looked at the cover and description for Jobless Recovery, they thought it was non-fiction. Or even worse--self-help. You can see the cover image right here and maybe you'll have the same reaction.

Uh-oh. My bad. My very bad.

People: Jobless Recovery is not self-help. Do not do the things my characters do. Or did in the book. Do not tell people the events are true. Because if you do, I could be in big trouble with the feds and you wouldn't want that, would you? Well, maybe some people would, but I prefer to think I have no enemies. So please--don't try this at home--or anywhere else.

Meanwhile, I'm working to change the book's image. It's a novel. It's fiction. I need for it to look that way.

Here's the book description: Dave Griffin is a poster boy for the American consumer. He drives a blood-colored Behemoth model SUV, has a new home in the suburbs, a beautiful girlfriend, a computer programming job, and all the benefits that come with middle class life in America. Then Dave's employer replaces American computer programmers with cheaper imported labor in order to increase company profits. Soon Dave is out on the street. But he still believes in the system. All he has to do is bring the problem to the attention of the media and the people in Washington to get results, right? Wrong. Very wrong.

Meanwhile, Dave's friend Joe Tremaine, a former FBI agent who lost his job after suffering a head injury, is struggling to stay sane. Cynical Joe knows better than to trust anyone in Washington or in corporate America. He embroils Dave in his fraudulent money-making schemes, and when Joe decides to educate the powerful senator who has been the driving factor in eliminating American jobs, his plan goes awry. Can an unemployed computer jockey manage to keep Joe--and himself--out of jail? Or will the oddly-shaped bundle in the back of Joe's truck lead the cops to haul them both to the slammer?

Hmm. The description doesn't say it's a novel, but I think that on the whole I haven't done a bad job getting the idea across. I'll still consider reworking the copy.

Here's a very short excerpt, an exchange between two of the main characters, Joe and Dave:

"I’ll bet you can do a pretty good job of designing brochures and flyers and printing them off.” The bingo hall wouldn’t earn squat if they didn’t advertise.

“Of course.” Dave furrowed his brow, and Joe could almost see little wheels wobbling in his head as he tried to get his thoughts up and running. “But what about your home repair business?”

“That’s not working out.” Joe leaned in close and lowered his voice. “Don’t tell Lark, because she’d just worry herself sick, but I barely make enough to cover my expenses. I’ll have to kill you if you say anything.”

“I know. Leave no marks, hide the body from the rats.” Dave rolled his eyes. “You know something, Joe? I’d like you a whole lot better if you didn’t keep threatening to kill me.”

“I’m not trying to win a popularity contest, boy. You want the job? Set up the books, do the advertising, be my right hand man?”

“What type of business?”

Joe used a spoon to wrap a wad of spaghetti around a fork. “Here, taste this.” He pushed the fork at Dave.

Dave jumped back. “Ow. I burned my tongue.”

“You ought to know better than to let somebody shove a hot fork in your mouth. What do you say?”

“The spaghetti’s done. What kind of business is it?”

“I’m telling you, if you’ll just shut up and listen. That’s a big fault with you, Dave--you keep interrupting while I’m trying to explain things. This business I’m trying to tell you about is church. It’s all about me being a preacher and you being my assistant.”

No problem here. This excerpt screams fiction, right? I hope so, anyway.

Okay, my work is clear. I'm planning to add a cover blurb and possibly rework the description. Meanwhile, if you're considering buying Jobless Recovery, it's on sale for only $.99 on Kindle until January 1st.

The book has nine terrific reviews on Amazon so far, including three posted in the last week. Jobless Recovery is classified as satire and social commentary. It has a bit of mystery thrown in. Oh--and it's fiction.