This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by the author. Click the tour banner above to see the other stops on the tour.
The life of an author is a glamorous sight to beho—eeeeeeeek!
Okay, let’s stop right there.
You’ve probably seen the memes around Facebook. You know, the ones that show a group of images revolving around writers and comparing what the world thinks we do in comparison to reality? Well, I hate to say it but those pics are actually pretty accurate.
You see, I do sit about all day looking like an extra for a hobo in the latest blockbuster, in Y and sweatpants (or PJ bottoms on an impressive day), slippers, hair unkempt, my laptop stuck amidst my organised chaotic piles of bills and notes and diaries and old lottery tickets on the kitchen table (AKA Mum’s Work Station). And the unkempt hair I mentioned? Yeah, that tends to come from all the tugging when I realise how many blog posts and guest posts and interviews I have to write around proofreading and editing and trying to get this stupid scene to go right, dammit!
The idealised version is what we all believe pre-becoming an author.
The reality? Check it out:
Imagine me as described above, with the day to myself once the kidlets are in school and The Man’s at work, doing pretty much everything I described, to the soundtrack of the pooch’s light snores in her bed over in the corner, with my arms having to work around whichever of the cats decide to sit in my lap, drinking coffee made from the kettle only a stone’s throw away, and occasionally snacking on crap that I don’t have to bother to make, and gritting my teeth every time the phone rings when I’m in the midst of an important task or scene, all done by the light that shines through my rain splattered window (what can I say? This is England, baby).
Oh, and maybe I should mention I sometimes forget to cook dinner despite the fact I’m sitting smack bang in the middle of the appropriate room. O_o
There you have it: A day in the life of me. :D
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About the Author:
Before she knew it, a singular scene had become an entire movie. The characters she controlled began to hold conversations. Their actions reflected the personalities she bestowed upon them. Within no time, they had a life, a lover, a foe, family … they had Become.
One day, she wrote down her thoughts. She’s yet to stop.
J. A. Belfield lives in Solihull, England, with her husband, two children, four cats and a dog. She writes paranormal romance, with a second love for urban fantasy.
Someone is watching the Holloway Pack, and this time, the female isn’t the target.
Life with a group of seven male werewolves worries Jem Stonehouse not one bit. She is engaged to the Alpha’s son Sean Holloway after all. So what has Jem’s territorial instincts on high alert?
The pack’s latest addition. Both of them.
None of the men think there’s a problem with the new girlfriends. Jem’s intuition tells her otherwise—that and a nagging suspicion the new females aren’t there to partake.
Jem believes they’ve joined in to take.
The question is … What?
As the eve of the blue moon draws ever closer, Jem’s running out of time to find the answer and outwit a thief of the worst possible kind.
A woman who believes she can’t lose.