Evolution sounds better than change

There are few things as constant as change. Each and every one of us experiencing change on a daily basis. Some changes we may not like but we learn to accept them. Others are immediately and fully embraced. But most of the time we're somewhere in the middle. We find ways to get along with change.

The publishing business is vastly different from when I began my journey in 2003. Digital publishing was just taking off and it was a force to be reckoned with. Small publishing houses sprang up overnight, and many vanished just as quickly. The future looked promising.

Then came change. I don't think anyone saw the magnitude of what was happening - at first. In retrospect, it's pretty clear that the people fighting digital publishing might have been on to something, although the collapse didn't happen for the reasons they feared. Or did it? Success on an individual basis has always been feared. 

Electronic publishing is here to stay - at least for a while longer. The indie author isn't going anywhere, either. But we still have to face change. We need to continually evolve. 

Today marks the end of an era for Rayne Forrest. The flooded market and piracy have taken their toll. My .com has been removed. It was my choice to give up the expense and move on to other venues. Yes, that would be free venues. Google has made it easy to find anything. Type in Rayne Forrest and you'll still find me. Rayne Forrest is also now piggy-backed on another author's website. It's a change. It's not good. It's not bad. It's an evolution. 

But does it feel a bit like defeat to give up the .com? Yes, and I'll get over it. 

Things have changed. 

Rayne
http://kckendricks.com/RayneForrest_home.html
http://rayneforrest.blogspot.com
www.twitter.com/rayneforrest


Money Back Guarantee

Slade Martin is under attack. An electronic thief absconded with all 
his liquid personal wealth and someone on his board of directors is plotting a hostile takeover. The obvious culprit isn’t the guilty party, and Slade gets help to find the real perpetrator from a surprise source – the lovely and capable Iris D’Vance.   

Iris D’Vance is determined not to repeat her mistakes with 
men – until she meets Slade Martin, and decides all bets are off. Accepting the invitation to sit on the board of Slade’s charitable foundation lands her in the middle corporate intrigue. Slade needs her help and makes her an offer she can’t turn down.

Slade and Iris join forces to unravel the plot to ruin Slade and 
discover their interest in each other runs deeper than sharing 
altruistic works. When the person behind Slade’s woes is found, it’s Iris who’s in danger. Slade has to act fast to bring her home safe and make good on his money back guarantee.

READ AN EXCERPT HERE.

Money Back Guarantee

Available now at online book sellers: Money Back Guarantee

Slade Martin is under attack. An electronic thief absconded with all his liquid personal wealth and someone on his board of directors is plotting a hostile takeover. The obvious culprit isn’t the guilty party, and Slade gets help to find the real perpetrator from a surprise source – the lovely and capable Iris D’Vance.  

Iris D’Vance is determined to not repeat her mistakes with men – until she meets Slade Martin, and decides all bets are off. Accepting the invitation to sit on the board of Slade’s charitable foundation lands her in the middle corporate intrigue. Slade needs her help and makes her an offer she can’t turn down.

Slade and Iris join forces to unravel the plot to ruin Slade and discover their interest in each other runs deeper than sharing altruistic works. When the person behind Slade’s woes is found, it’s Iris who’s in danger. Slade has to act fast to bring her home safe and make good on his money back guarantee. 

INTRO:

Slade stalked off the elevator, his prey dead center in the crosshairs. Primed and loaded, one word from Ms. Iris D’Vance, and he’d let the hammer fall. Damn her. He sucked in a deep breath to replace the air that whooshed out of his lungs as her appearance burned onto his corneas.

Damn her for standing in front of the windows with the sunlight coming in behind her. Every luscious curve was visible through the backlit fabric of her dress. He’d not seen anything that amazing in…well, he’d never seen anything that amazing. His temper bled away, replaced by a surge of lust. Maybe he needed to rethink his approach, and fast, before she got away with old man Farnsmore.

Iris turned slightly and spotted him. Her eyes widened, she stiffened, then her composure slid back into place. It didn’t matter. Slade had seen the sudden interest in her eyes. He held out his hand to her for a friendly handshake.

“Ms. D’Vance, I apologize for getting off on the wrong foot upstairs. I get a little nervous before board meetings.”

Iris accepted his hand. Her lips parted. He closed his fingers around hers, noting how cold hers were as he lifted them to his lips.

“I’m sorry. That was forward of me. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Her chin lifted, and her lovely hazel eyes took on a new, hard glint.

“I’m sure that well-rehearsed and very tired line still works on some women, but I assure you, I’m not one of them, Mr. Martin.”

Slade very grudgingly gave her high marks for honesty. He’d asked for that, and she’d given it to him.

“No, it doesn’t work, obviously. I’ll have to practice it.”

“Not on me, Mr. Martin. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s my ride.”

Dismissed, for God’s sake. Torpedoed.

Slade grabbed her wrist. She shot him a cold look that would have sent a weaker man to his knees.

Well, she could glare at him all she wanted to. What he had to say was important.

“Whatever it is you and Farnsmore have schemed up, I warn you now, he’ll turn on you the minute you’ve outlived your usefulness.”

Her look turned wary. “What are you talking about, Mr. Martin?”

“Don’t play stupid. I know old Reggie worked his glib tongue with the other members to get you a seat on my board. Now you’d best remember it is my board. Drop Farnsmore before you get in over your head.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Have it your way, but don’t say I didn’t warn you about Reggie and his cronies.” Slade left her standing there, turning abruptly and calling for his car.

Curse the day Reginald Farnsmore managed to wrangle a seat on the CRM board! The man was nothing but trouble. Slade slid into the driver’s seat of his vintage Cadillac. Crap. He needed to pay the permit for the gasoline engine because in his current financial straits, he couldn’t afford the steep fine for a lapse.

How did Iris fit into Reggie’s grandiose scheme to take over the board? Maybe Farnsmore thought she’d be a proper distraction. If that were the case, Slade had to admit the man had picked a woman who could get his mind on other things. Too bad she didn’t have the balls, well, ovaries, to own up to it.

The look in her eyes swam in his memory, the look of shocked confusion that she’d not been able to hide as he’d delivered his warning.

Fucking hell. His chest tightened, constricting painfully around his heart. She’d not been faking. No one could act that well. Maybe she really didn’t know.

Great, now he’d have to save both D’Vance and CRM from Farnsmore.

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IWSG - Writer's Block - an ending or a beginning?

The Insecure Writer’s Support Group

http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com

Writer’s block are two words that strike dread into the heart of many a serious writer. You had such a great idea so what the heck is going on? You sit in front of the screen and stare. You want to write but the words won’t come.

Having suffered from this malady only a handful of times in my so-called writing career, I’ve reached a few conclusions, at least where I’m concerned.

I’ve concluded that sometimes I simply need a break.  It’s time to go blog, play on twitter, even watch television. I get busy on something else and stop obsessing over a daily word count.

My day job frequently wears me out and I don’t have energy to spare at the end of the day. I might go through a period where my life is on a social merry-go-round. Or like now, caring for my mother is taking my energy. It is what it is. 

Even when I’m not writing I’m thinking about writing. I know from experience the wheel will turn and I’ll be back at the keyboard, banging away.  

The main thing is to never give up on anything you want to have in your life. Let yourself rest if necessary, but always hold fast to the knowledge that you can find your way back to the things you love to do. Writer’s block is certainly scary, but it doesn't have to be an ending. It can be a chance to reboot, and an opportunity for renewal and regrowth. 

Search yourself for whatever is keeping you from the keyboard. Be honest about it to yourself. Don't hide from it, but learn from it instead. Write it into a story and render it unable to distract you from your path again. 

They say knowledge is power. Knowing yourself, and conquering those things which hold you back from your goals, gives you the power to achieve them.  

Rayne Forrest

Rayneforrest.blogspot.com

Mischief at Midnight - new cover up

I love Google calendars. I run several different ones because I share them with different people. It works well to have a shared calendar with my honey so I can "suggest" what he should prepare for dinner. Whether or not he actually cooks what I've suggested is fodder for another blog.

Anyway... Today marks the one year anniversary of Mischief at Midnight being out as an indie release. It's a little surprising it's been that long, but when they say time flies, they're not joking.

I've learned a lot in the last year and I decided it is perhaps time for Mischief at Midnight to get a cover do-over. It's not that I need more to do - trust me I don't - but MAM is a cute little story. You know, the tangled webs we weave and all that. What starts out as a harmless deception to help someone out with a dinner party quickly becomes an evening that's gotten out of hand. I thought it was great fun, but I confess to a bit of bias about the story.

Anyway... I decided to celebrate the success of the last year with an updated cover. Now I just have to go around to all the vendors and get it posted. That's that hard part.

Rayne
rayneforrest.blogspot.com

Raindrops on the pond

I’m not sure why, but I’ve been a bit ‘scattered’ this week. I feel like raindrops hitting the pond. All my energy ripples out from the center and is gone. 

Maybe it’s an awareness of all the things I need to accomplish over the next few weeks, or perhaps it’s just the end of a long, hard winter. Whatever the culprit, my concentration is non-existent.

Part of the problem may be that I’m physically tired. With the sudden fluctuations in the temperature, I’m not sleeping well. It’s too warm for blankets, and too cold to open a window and let some fresh air in the bedroom. 

Tired or not, the break in the weather means it’s time to start walking again. I’ve not been able to get outside on my lunch breaks since Christmas. We had a freakin' blizzard in January, you know. Thirty inches of snow. I wasn't impressed as I peered out the window. 

If you’re wondering what that has to do with writing, well, here’s the thing. If I’m going to ever go to writing full-time, I’ve got to have a good exercise regimen firmly established. I refuse to channel Jabba the Hut as I sit at my keyboard. A better me means better writing, or so I firmly believe.

So what’s up with the writing this week? I’m scattered. My alter ego is coming up on the end of a story, and the floodgate of new ideas has opened. Pick one. Pick one. PICK ONE! It’s always difficult to narrow it down to the most complete idea and forge ahead. The sooner I do, the sooner I can get back to another project.  Right? 

Rayne Forrest

rayneforrest.blogspot.com

Your Book, Your Way - IWSG

February 3, 2016

The Insecure Writer’s Support Group

http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com

One of the first writing pearls of wisdom I learned was every author should write her/his story for themself.

Okay, so the above sentence isn’t perfectly grammatically correct. This is my blog so it’s written my way. Maybe it’s to prove my point or maybe because it’s to prove my point. I’ll tinder my apologies now in case the sky starts to fall.

I think it’s important for every writer to remember why they write. The little wisdom pearl is correct - write the story for yourself to please yourself. If you want to bring others into your book, you have to be there first.

Too many times, I think, worrying about what an editor or reviewer might say discourages a writer and they temper their words to please. It happened to me very early on and it was very discouraging. I eventually got over it, and I know it’s not easy to overcome. I’m even certain a wee bit of it lingers on.

I know the best stories I’ve written were for me. I’m blessed that I was able to share them. Grateful, too. But I’ll never forget the first rule of writing.

YOU are your very first reader. Write the story that at its core will make you happy. Everything else will fall in place around it.

 Rayne Forrest

http://www.rayneforrest.com

www.twitter.com/rayneforrest
rayneforrest.blogspot.com

One Summer by Rayne Forrest

Available January 25, 2016

One Summer

Holly Thomas has a simple plan for the summer - take care of her favorite aunt and celebrate Burkesville’s centennial. Her immediate attraction to the town’s newest resident quickly proves problematic. Joe Mercer’s keeping secrets behind his blue eyes.

Holly’s instincts are good. Joe Mercer’s reasons for coming to Burkesville are two-fold. On the surface he’s the pub owner he looks to be, but he’s also undercover for the government. Holly’s everything he wants in a woman and he’s trapped. He can’t confide to her he’s in the middle of this little covert assignment, and he can’t stay away from her. 

When the deal goes down, Joe scrambles to stay on the right side of everything. Holly has it all wrong but he’s in too deep to back out of the operation. It’s all coming to a head and he’ll be able to tell her everything – if he can just hold on to her for one more day.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
4 Hearts from The Romance Studio….

The author has written a really fine story of two people falling in love in a small town, with a little suspense for added interest. The climax of the book really makes this engrossing love story.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

EXCERPT

The bright beam of headlights turned the raindrops falling around her to shimmering crystals. The Chevy slowed to a stop and when the passenger door swung open, she gratefully flung herself into the car as the heavens opened in a deluge. She greeted him, aware that she dripped water on his leather seat.

“Hey, Joe.”

“Hey, Holly.” He reached a long arm between the bucket seats and grabbed a sweatshirt.  She accepted his offering with murmured thanks and slipped it over her head, immediately warmed by soft fabric that was infused with his scent. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed to refrain from burying her nose in the fleece and inhaling deeply.

“Thanks.” She grinned at him. “Good morning, by the way.”

Joe grinned back at her. “It’s a better morning, now. Didn’t you know this storm was rolling through?”

“I thought I had time for my walk. The wind wasn’t blowing when I left the house.” She didn’t say anything as he turned onto Linden Drive, slowed, and turned into Aunt Naomi’s driveway. Someone had told him where she lived. It was a small town.

Of course, that meant he actually asked someone. Despite the cold rain a warm glow settled in her belly.

“Would you like to come in for coffee?” She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to say yes, or no, although yes would be infinitely more interesting. If he came in, she’d grab the chance to find out why he drove around town so early in the morning.

He regarded her evenly for a count of five then leaned towards her, his large hand warm on her chilled knee. “I’d love coffee, but I’m short on time.”

Holly forgot to breathe as that warm hand slid to the inside of her thigh and traveled to the edge of her shorts and impropriety before stopping. His blue gaze, locked with hers, darkened until she saw her reflection. Her belly tightened. Her joints suddenly loosened, surprising her with the swiftness of it. She shivered as her nipples tingled and peaked at the sound of his low, husky voice. Thank heavens he’d given her the sweatshirt and couldn’t observe her reaction. She didn’t want to give away too many of her secrets, no matter how sexy Joe Mercer looked.

“We have unfinished business, Holly.”

She agreed, most whole-heartedly.

Joe slipped his arm around her. Holly dropped her head onto his shoulder and tipped her chin up to him. His lips came down on hers and she opened to him, a silent invitation to plunder at will.

His searing hot mouth tasted of coffee, mint, and Joe. Electricity jolted through her belly, settling to a simmering boil at the apex of her thighs.  She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t wanted this and flicked her tongue across his lower lip. He nibbled at the corner of her mouth, teasing her. She fisted her hands in his shirt and tugged on him. His lips gentled, caressing hers softly, moving on hers, whisper soft, and so very, very warm. 

How long he held her in his spell she didn’t know, or care. The vibrations beneath her ceased. The sound of the rain was suddenly louder. She was aware of it in a vague sort of way, registering it and tossing it away as unimportant. Joe’s arms were around her lifting her. His lips were still locked to hers.

He was so warm, so big and solid. The feel of him, hard against her hip, brought her up short when she wiggled closer. Holly pulled away and opened her eyes, blinking him back into focus.

He grinned, eyes sparkling, his smile as unrepentantly male as his erection pressed hard between them. His arms tightened around her, a surprising shelter against the sudden urge to flee his strength. 

“Is that your Aunt Naomi?”

Holly jerked and the world suddenly refocused. The silken web he’d woven around her dissolved and she found herself sprawled across his lap.

She looked out the fogged windshield to see Aunt Naomi standing on the porch, bundled up in a sweater and calmly sipping her coffee while she watched the sideshow in her driveway. Her equilibrium returned. Darn reality, anyway.

“That’s her.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s a neat trick getting a girl onto your lap with the gear shifter thingy and the steering wheel in the way, Joe. Practice it much?”

She shifted her weight and froze as he winced, only to move again more cautiously so as not to injure a few of his body parts he’d probably not want injured. He grinned at her again, a big, open, smug male smile. She slid off his lap. It was her turn to grin as he pulled the edges of his black leather jacket in across the front of his jeans. 

“Thanks for the ride, Joe,” she said with her best attempt at sounding sultry. He laughed softly at the double entendre. 

“My pleasure, Holly. Honest.” His hand closed over hers, warm and strong.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

One Summer is now available at these online book sellers:

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