There’s a ton of last minute craziness that happens in the Indie World of publishing, or well, maybe I should say for those who take the whole concept of indie publishing seriously.
We’ve all had our books professionally edited, but as everyone knows – things can be missed. So we started to read and there were errors. Back up and get them fixed. Then our format person read everything and found more. We get the draft and guess what? Yep, an error! Fix that. Seriously, how was that missed? Then there were a few other things in the format. And right there on the first page it says DRAFT! OOPS!
Yes, we’re down to the wire and there are still things to do. But we promise it will be available in just a few days. We believe in bringing our readers the best possible stories and presenting them as perfectly polished as possible. Why do we do this? Because we take pride in what we write and we love our readers. We want them to keep coming back to read our other books.
The other exciting thing about this boxed set is that Nan O’Berry joined us for this holiday release. Everyone has loved her writing so much that they have asked her to join the Authors of Main Street, and she has! So you’ll be seeing lots more of her.
Here’s an excerpt from my book in the boxed set.
Keefe Assam’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. He punched the button on the wall. “Yes.”
“Oh, thank God, it’s you. Let me in.”
“Who is this?”
“Oh, Keefe, it’s Leighayn. Let me in.”
He buzzed her in as his mind did a series of somersaults through their rocky relationship. It ended when he discovered she was seeing another guy. That’s not what he wanted in a partner. He wanted a lifetime commitment. Someone to actually share his life, someone who enjoyed doing what he did. Leighayn was not that person. He realized she was too self-centered.
She knocked on his upper door.
Smile. Be nice. He opened the door. “What brings you here?”
He stared at the child she held on her hip. From her opposite shoulder hung two straps that supported two bulging bags.
“Oh, how could you choose such a horrid place to live? Uh! I’m totally out of breath. All those steps.” She dropped the bags at his feet and he moved them so he could close the door.
“Walking all those steps was bad enough, but this place is like some sterile environment. It’s so typical of you. Neat freak. What’s this crap?” She picked up his prized piece of dichroic glass.
“It’s a Jack Storms sculpture. It’s called Viviolo. Please don’t handle it like that.”
She held it up as though she intended to drop it. “Well, if it’s so precious, you’d better remove it. By the way, this is your son, in case you haven’t figured that out. He was born on December twenty-seventh. He’s yours, look at him. You walked out on me the end of May. Now I have a chance at happiness, and I’m not going to miss it.” She went to the bar that separated the kitchen from the rest of the room and placed the egg-shaped piece of glass there. Then dug through one of the bags. “It’s here someplace. I listed you as the father. Anyway, he’s yours now.” She slipped the child down her side to his feet. “He’ll be two on his birthday. It’s your turn. I already signed the custody papers in front of a notary. So do whatever mumbo-jumbo lawyers do to make everything legal… Happy fatherhood. I’m leaving the country.”
Keefe had to force his mouth closed as his mind tried to process what she was saying. “You are dumping me with a child?”
“I’m not dumping him. He’s your child. Look at him!”
He wanted to say DNA test, but the little boy before him was a carbon copy of photos of Keefe at the same age.
She laughed. “Get over it.” She turned, yanked his apartment door open and walked out. “Potty train him. He’s old enough.”
His heart thumped against his chest and it wasn’t a good feeling. The child began to cry.
Keefe went to his door and called down the steps. “What’s his name?”
“Rage. Rage Assam. It’s in the paperwork.” She held her fingers by her shoulder and wiggled them. “Deal with it.”