Monday, 25 July 2016

First Kiss

First Kiss
A girl. A curse. A kiss.
The Lakes are not only famous for founding the small town of Lakeland, but also for killing off any man who would dare love them.
Just one little kiss and he will perish, or so the rumors say.
Erralynn Lake has never been a fan of rumors, or Lakeland.
She can’t wait to move away and spread her wings.
But as she plans her escape, an unlikely cold wind blows into town, bringing with it something wicked.
Things crawl from the shadows with stories of a curse, a girl, and a kiss.
And nothing makes sense.
Because Erralynn Lake isn’t who she thinks she is.
And Lakeland isn’t her real home.
It fact, it might not be anyone’s real home.
Crawl into the fairytale that will leave you wishing there was a rabbit to follow through the insanity.
First Kiss

Coming soon.

Thursday, 21 July 2016

Puck Buddies is live!!!!!!!!!

Puck Buddies is LIVE!!!!!!!!!!! And we have a special price this week for release week. The sale ends next week.

The links are here -

And it is on KDP, because Amazon loves me. This week.

Even better Roommates is on sale tomorrow for .99

Monday, 1 February 2016

Third Time's a Charm

I promised a teaser.
Sierra was the most fun to write. She isn't anything like we expected her to be. She's the opposite actually.
I am hoping to be done this in the next couple days so I can get it to Andrea and we can finish her off.
This book will haunt my dreams for a while.
Unedited teaser
Third Time's a Charm
Copyright Tara Brown
Love is bursting with expectations.
But only to those who have never been in love.
I used to think it would feel a certain way and I would be different as a result of the person I would be in love with.
I expected great things from it, in me and just in general.
I would become great.
But glancing across the room at him, hunched over his computer, typing faster than I could think, I realized love owed me nothing.
It owed me no promises or changes.
Love loved me the way I was.
It didn't want to change me or fix me or perfect anything.
He was love.
He felt dangerous and precious and frightening.
Not frightening compared to what we had been through but in the way I knew losing this tiny thing, tiny connection, tiny obsession, would crush me.
Something so small could kill me faster than the something huge that was already trying to kill me.
And through him I saw that I was wasn't so bad.
I didn't need to be different.
I needed to be me.
I needed to stop pretending to be something I wasn't.
He saw past that anyway.
It took me a while to understand that I needed him not to fix me or perfect me or change me.
I needed him to love and accept me, all of me, for who I was.
We never spoke of it and he never offered it, but I could tell that was the way things were with us. He just did and I just was.
I was more than the girl who had narrowly escaped a psycho killer and he was more than the guy who had been watching, not unlike the psycho killer had been.
He was the face bursting through the door, eyes wide—lips trembling.
He was an angel.
The scars fading from my arms and legs and abdomen, places a bad person had offered me proof of their hatred, wouldn't ever fade enough to take it all away. But when he touched them it was as if the marks themselves changed. They each became his signature, his knife, his love, marking me.
Each time his unsure lips brushed against the hardened skin it healed the spots a little bit more. I didn't notice a difference in the look but they felt different, less harsh. Maybe they were healing from the inside.
I was.
He paused in his typing, lifting his head and giving me a smile. Not a charming smile, he never did charming. He didn't know how to be anything but authentic. “You going to get the Chinese food?”
“I guess.” My smile was charming, I didn’t know how to be anything inauthentic.
“Sierra, I’m starving.” He laughed and said it matter-of-factly, the only tone he had.
Never would I have imagined a guy making me blush with a plain and boring tone like that one, but he did. When a boy told you he loved you from the very instant he saw you, you smiled and pinned that moment somewhere important in your mind. But when he said it with no flair or charm or pretense, he said it like it was the most important fact in his life, you blushed. He didn't need flair. He had truth. It was all he had.
I was the most important thing in his life. It was a fact. It was something he not only believed but also lived by. He didn't say it. He didn't try to convince me. He didn't shower me with gifts or niceties. It was just a fact. Every one of his actions showed me.
From the rock he kept in his pocket, the one he found on the beach with my blood on it, to the lock of my hair that he risked his life to get back, I knew he loved me. I believed it like it was the most important fact in my life.
It was.
He was.
I am shooting for April 14th


Please read this long ass post in the most pleasant tone your brain has. That is exactly how I’m saying this.

I need to say something to everyone. UGH....
It's actually only for the few hundred of you who have been sending me messages or posts telling me how frustrating it is that the book you are looking for isn't out yet.
I know it is.
I'm frustrated too.
I hate that I can't just sit and write and not get sore from sitting too long or that I have to make dinner or that the world is still going on outside of my office door.
This month I hate that I don't even have an office right now.
The only thing I can say is that my release dates have been pushed because I have moved 4 times in the last 4 years. My husband has a very important job, which involves moving, a lot. It also involves danger to me and my kids and him.
Sometimes we live apart.
Sometimes our kids don't live with us so they can be safe.
It's hard.
It's very hard.
It makes being creative difficult.
It makes deadlines terrible.
Normally, I tell myself I am lucky to have anyone care when a book is coming out. It means I have readers who are excited about the next book. But this last couple months of moving, againnnnnnn, has been particularly hard and I have missed every deadline for 6 months. I am pretty sad but if I focus on it too hard I won’t be working, I’ll be stewing.
I do need to point out something.
The Devil’s Roses is a 9 book series and I only published the first book 4 years ago. That is an average of 2 books a year for that series. Which is fairly awesome. When you think about that, if I were a normal writer it would take 9 years to finish the series… It will take just over the four it’s been.
Since I published the first book of the Roses exactly 4 years ago, my life has been like everyone else's in the world, chaotic.
I don't get to sit in my office and write and ignore the whole world the way I wish I could. I try to but the world creeps in, sneaking past the imaginary guards and asking me for ridiculous things like family movie night or dinner.
Some of it's my fault.
Okay, most of it.
Last summer I did peek in my neighbour's windows and break my own ankle, we all know how that went down…
And I do try to be as ambitious as possible about release dates. Sometimes the schedule is reaching.
And it's annoying when I say something is coming and then life gets in the way and it comes a couple months later.
Or in the case of Betrayers, a year later.
I understand it's annoying that I’m not done yet.
But please try to understand that my life is just like yours.
It's nuts.
Since finishing writing my second book 5 years ago, my family has gone through some terrible things.
My children have needed a mother—selfish brats!
My husband did something remarkable but we can't even talk about it, secret job stuff.
One of my best friend's went through some terrible things and needed me.
Then another one.
Then another.
Some of my dear friends have had cancer or other serious illnesses and my mind and heart were stuck on them a fair amount.
This list goes on and on and on.
There are too many horrid things to mention.
But honestly, I don't want to think about them all. More importantly I'm not looking for pity. I know my life looks the same as everyone else's.
We all have bullshit we deal with.
Every day my Facebook feed is full of the bad things that happen in people's lives.
We have days where we don't feel so hot or a friend calls and they need comfort or your sister calls and tells you her old life is gone and her new life is hard and she needs you.
We all walk this path.
Family and friends and pets die. And kids need you. And your spouse needs you. And your friends need you. And sometimes you just need them. Sometimes you just need wine and cheese.
Which would be how in the last 4 years I've gained 60 pounds from writing and comfort eating while I work and deal with the crazy stress in my life, which is starting to hurt. I need to lose weight, again time away from my desk.
On top of that I've got normal mom things going on, like getting my kids and pets sorted every day.
As a writer I've been to 7 signings, one as far as England. I've met some of you, which was OMG awesome. I've made some amazing writer/blogger/reader friends who I cherish.
I've written over 47 books.
I am one of the few authors who write more than 2 books a year. Last year was 8 books. The year before was more.
Yes, not in the order you wanted me to, but in the order my brain said it was going to do it.
I do not have control over my writing.
I wish I did.
I try to schedule in hopes my brain will cooperate, it never does.
I understand your frustration and I am sorry that you feel this way. Writing a book is not a matter of sitting and writing. It's a strange process that involves all of my emotions and brainpower. Sometimes I just need to drive and listen to music. Other times I need to read or watch a TV series. I need to check out so I can filter.
Science has taught me that writing a standalone is easier when everything in your life is falling apart. Writing a series novel is much more difficult.
My decided end for the Devil's Roses has been complex, that is why it’s not done yet. Also because the series doesn't sell well even if I want it to. So I am changing it and fixing it and giving it love in hopes that other people will see what we all see. I cant dedicate a ton of time to something that makes very little money.
And I don't know if many authors have mentioned it before, but in the last two years I've had to change up my work strategy, partly because the book market flooded and we all noticed a drop in sales.
The sad fact is that my series books, apart from Born, don't make a lot of money. I write them because I love them.
I would LOVE to say the Devil's Roses earns its keep. This is not the case. My standalone and traditionally published books support me. They make it possible for me to live comfortably and write and not need to get a full time job. They are my full time job.
I work 16-hour days some times. Most times.
My series books are for me and you—the loyal readers who I love. But they don't make a bunch of money. They do all right. My standalone books kick ass and sell like hotcakes.
So when you write me and complain that the series isn't finished and you're annoyed that I have written another standalone instead of a series book, I feel the need to explain.
This is a job.
It's a job that is also a passion and a love for me.
But loving it doesn't make money.
Hence the standalone books and traditional deals.
And unfortunately my life hasn't gotten easier in the last month, not the way I imagined it would.
My house is currently under construction, the house we bought needs work.
I don't currently have an office, we have to build it. I'm writing you from the living room, where everyone is, including the painter and the lady measuring for the new shades on the windows. I'm not listening to music but the sound of a chainsaw and jackhammer.
I don't need you to feel sorry for me, I’m sure your grandma has died too. And your dog had to be put down. And your sister called crying and panicking.
I just need you to understand that I am a human being.
And all of the books you are looking for are coming. They really are. Maybe a little slower than I hoped, depending on how quickly I get an office built downstairs, after the floors upstairs are replaced and the painter is done and the kitchen counters are replaced and the cabinets in the bathroom are done.
If I go missing, it’s because I have had a midlife crisis a smidge early or I am on the treadmill trying not to die early from sitting so much…

I love you all. And I understand, believe me, I do. I too have waited for a novel. I have waited so long I gave up on the series. Granted it was two years between books, not four years for the whole series.

Thank you for understanding, making it all the way to the end of this ranty shit, and for caring when my next book comes out.



Thursday, 14 January 2016

Dumbledore trusted him...

When I read Harry Potter the first time, it was 2003 and the first five books were out. Normally I don't like to start a series until the books are all out. But I had a toddler, a baby, and a mom in a coma. They were my escape from some harsh realities at the time.
I hated so many things in the books but I couldn't stop ploughing through them.
I was reading the story with fresh eyes and a serious lack of understanding.
But when I reached the last book years later, and experienced the plot twist, that I still feel was one of the best, I nearly died.
J.K. Rowling had worked me exquisitely.
I should have known.
Dumbledore trusted him and so should I have.
But I didn't.
I literally had to close my book and feel everything as I heaved and sobbed.
I was overwhelmed with guilt for the feelings I'd had.
The plain and simple truth was that I hated Snape a little bit. I'd always seen the struggling and tortured child who grew to be a detached and angry man, but I didn't see the rest of him.
I thought he was a bully and weak and bitter. I'd glimpsed the tip of the iceberg, not realizing the depth she'd written.
In the moments where I met the real Severus, I fell in love with the character and the story and his anguish. And I adored the pain in my chest upon meeting him, finally.
I fell in love with his strength.
His life had never actually been lived.
His journey had hardly began when Lily, his true love died. And instead of moving on and living a life, he spent his last years protecting her son. The son she had with a man who made Severus the man he had became.
You see I hated James Potter as much as I hated Severus, no more. He too was a cruel bully who got away with being terrible to weak people, and only because he was on the right side. He picked on the socially awkward.
I'm socially awkward.

And then the movies happened.

Alan Rickman brought to life the man I'd barely been able to imagine. How I saw him and how he was when Alan portrayed him, couldn't even compare.
I will forever remember this brilliant actor as if he was my friend. Not because I knew him but because he helped me know someone very important to me.
And because he was Colonel Brandon who I loved more than anyone. Except Captain Wentworth.

I hate that he is gone.

Saturday, 9 January 2016

The Devil's Roses

Once upon a time...

In a cold and harsh land called Canada, there was a young author. She was very beautiful and very amazing—oops, this is the version I tell my husband...

This author wrote some books—okay she wrote a lot of books. She was new to being an author and sort of sucked but she had these amazing readers who valued her because they could see the potential in her. It took a long time for her to get things right, probably longer than everyone else but who's counting?
As she was struggling and finding her way, she got some feedback from readers, demanding sexy times in her series, The Devil's Roses. In fact most agreed the series needed sex.
For months they cried that they wanted, no needed to saver some red hot vampire—angel—werewolf sex. They wrote and wrote, begging and pleading for her to consider adding sex to the books she had liked as a PG NA.
After some consideration, she caved. She added the sex and the series, which had been a firm PG NA, became an +18 only. She added naughty sex and fun sex and quick sex.
Eventually she got tired of the sex and saw it as more of a filler. it just wasn't how she imagined the series.
Many years later as she rewrote and rewrote the ending of the series, she realized she just didnt love the turn the books had taken, and decided to change it. She decided to take it back to its roots. Back to the place that had made her so happy.

Essentially I am trying to hypnotize you by taking so long to say that I am redoing The Devil's Roses for the third time. I want you calm and comatose so that you don't fling poo at me.

If you like the all right versions that are out there now, that's okay. And I love you for liking them. But I need to take back the story and put it back to the way I loved it. I cannot finish the final book until I do.

And to make matters worse, I am making it YA, not NA. There will be SO MUCH LESS SEX IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY. We are talking angst and daydreaming and possible kisses in corners when no one is looking. But we will not (children look away) play just the tip, just for a minute, just to see how it feels.

They will be redone completely. Recovered completely. Reimagined completely. And they will end in a way that strongly suggests a spinoff series is coming. Mostly because one is. It's YA too.

The End.

And now back to what you were doing, or take a nap since you just got your bedtime story. Sweet dreams.

Friday, 8 January 2016

The Light Trilogy

The Light Trilogy!

Now a completed series!!

"Tara throws in some twists and turns that you never see coming, all the while never disrupting the flow of the story. You have to ride out the pain and heartbreak to come out whole again on the other side, just like Rayne. But I promise you, the ride is worth it."

"Prepare to have your mind blown!"
"As usual, Tara Brown takes you for a wild ride leaving you breathless but intrigued. Twisting turning plot. Crazy characters. Leaves you wondering what is happening next."
And finally Book Three!! -

It's an insane ride, but I wouldn't have it any other way.