Guest Post and Giveaway: Keep the Faith by Ana Tejano

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Before marketing your book

When I finally decided to publish my book independently, I was told that going indie means we also had to work on the marketing. I knew it was going to be hard work, but I figured, hey why not? It should be fun, right?

A year after I published my first book, I took up a digital marketing certification course, which gave me a better perspective with regards to marketing. I never really had proper marketing training, even if I worked in the field so the course was eye-opening for me, and it helped me think of how I could use these lessons as an author.

So now that I’ve made myself credible (haha) – yay, you published your book! Now you want people – who are not your friends – to know about it. But before you start creating Facebook posts or tweeting up a storm on Twitter or adding all the #hashtags to your Instagram posts, here are some things that an author has to be very clear on first before jumping into everything:

Remember your WHY. Why do you write? Why do you want people to read your book? Your why will anchor all your writing and marketing efforts, so make sure you keep this in mind when you’re about to go out to the world with your book. People will buy and read your book because they believe what you believe. Or, they’re curious about why you believe what you believe. Knowing your why will also ground you, and help you to focus again when things don’t go your way.

Set your objectives and goals. And by this, it has to be something specific and measurable, and again, anchored to your why. Putting numbers on them will make it less lofty and will help you figure out how to reach it. For example – when I decided to put together this blog tour, my objective was to gain more reviews and create buzz for my book, and my goal is to have at least 20 bloggers to join. With those numbers clear in my head, it was easier to figure out what to post and when to post.

Understand your reader. Knowing your reader helps you to know how to reach them. While it’s tempting to say that your target market is “all readers,” remember that not everyone will like your book. Knowing your readers will help you know how to talk to them, find out where they are and then position yourself so they will be most receptive to your message. Knowing your reader is just like building characters: find out what they like, where they work, what are their online habits, what other books do they like to read? Once you have a pretty good idea of who your readers are – or who you want them to be – then it’ll be easier to strategize with your marketing.

Just like in writing, marketing your books can be a bit frustrating – but being hands-on with is a great learning experience. And just like in writing, don’t forget to have fun with it, too! Good luck, and happy marketing your book!

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Book Title: Keep the Faith

Release Date: July 31, 2016

Author: Ana Tejano

About the Book:

As a community development worker, Faith was quite familiar with heartbreak and recovery after all the time she spent on disaster relief missions. So when her five-year relationship ends right before she left for a mission trip to a typhoon-stricken town in Iloilo, she tries not to make a big deal out of it. How can she be broken up about a breakup when she’s with people who literally lost everything?

But now that she’s back, all Faith wants is for her life to go back to normal and have people stop looking at her with pity. Never mind that she still has a lot of questions about the breakup, or that she feels a tiny ache every time her ex comes up in conversations. She’s okay now, and happily distracted by Nico Tamayo, the attractive new guy at work.

With new possibilities in the horizon, Faith thinks she is well on her way to moving on. But when her past comes calling back to her, will all the good things in her present be enough to keep her on the path? Or will she finally learn that there was more to heartbreak and recovery than what she knows?

Links to Purchase:

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About the Author:

Ana Tejano has been in love with words and writing ever since she met Elizabeth Wakefield when she was in Grade 3. She has contributed several non-fiction pieces in print and online publications, and has been blogging for years. When she’s not writing, she works as a communications manager for a payroll outsourcing firm, and serves in CFC Singles for Christ in every other time that she doesn’t spend reading or sleeping. She lives in Metro Manila and is also known by another name in her other circles (but it’s not a secret identity, really).

Contact Links:

ENTER RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY HERE:

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Excerpt #1:

“Hi.”

I froze at the sound of that now all-too-familiar deep voice—now less sleepy—and my panic gave way to anger. I turned around slowly.

Nico’s expression was friendly, oblivious to my seething. “I just want to say sorry for sleeping on your desk. Alvin told me you were coming back but I thought it wasn’t until Monday so I didn’t transfer immediately.”

“Did you touch anything here?” I pointed to my cubicle’s walls, ignoring his apology.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been using my desk since you got here. Did you remove anything?”

He shook his head, his messy hair flopping on his forehead. He brushed it away with a hand. “No. Why would I remove anything? I only sleep at other people’s desks, but I don’t take anything.” He gave me a cheeky grin at the last part, an attempt to make a joke, but I was too worked up to play along.

“Then what happened to my pictures, huh?”

ktf-quote-02“What pictures?”

I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I turned, and there was April, holding out a small paper bag. “Hey. I almost forgot to give you this.”

“April, do you know—”

“I heard you. They’re in the bag,” she interrupted gently. “I took your pictures down, okay? It’s not Nico’s fault. He didn’t even see them.”

I took the bag from her and peeked inside, and found the smiling face of my ex-boyfriend looking at me, beside my own. I was unprepared for the stab of pain when I saw our matching grins, remembering exactly when that photo was taken (second year anniversary, right after he took me out to dinner).

“I thought it would help if I cleaned it up when you told me what happened. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” She squeezed my arm, and left to answer her phone that started ringing again.

Squashing the urge to sort through the photos and memories, I shoved the paper bag in my bottom drawer, shutting the drawer with a loud click. When I looked up, I saw that Nico was gazing at me intently, and my face burned with shame again. Twice now. I can’t seem to get off on the right foot with this guy.

“I told you I didn’t know about anything,” he said, amused.

Well thanks a lot for rubbing it in. “If you hadn’t been sleeping on my desk then I wouldn’t have asked you.”

“Didn’t you learn much from what you saw on my profile?”

“I wasn’t stalking you!”

A small line formed between his eyebrows as if I was a Math problem that he was trying to solve. I tried to stare back at him but his brown eyes were too intense. Then to my surprise—and frustration—I saw the beginnings of a smirk tug at the corner of his lips.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” I crossed my arms.

Then his lips stretched into a full-fledged smile, a dimple popping on his right cheek. “I’m sorry. I promise I won’t sleep on your desk again.”

“Good,” I said with a firm nod. Then I started to feel a little silly for my outburst, especially after he seemed so gracious. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Peace?” he asked, extending his right hand to me. I uncrossed my arms and looked at his hand warily before glancing up at him again. He was still smiling.

“Okay,” I said, just a little begrudgingly, and reached out to shake his hand.

“My name is Nicolas, but everyone calls me Nico.”

“Hi, Nico,” I said, trying not to think of how warm his hand was. “I’m Faith. Faith Alvarez.” I let go of his hand. Too much hand-shaking was weird.

There was that dimple again. “I know.”

Wolf, in League by AF Henley: Blog Tour and Giveaway

The greatest gift of doing a blog tour is being able to touch base with old friends, and Cinderella Stories and I go back a long way. That’s one of the great things about the Internet, isn’t it? Being half a world away doesn’t really mean a thing when it comes to associates and acquaintances, and that is truly a blessing. So it’s an honour to be back as a guest and a friend, and I’m looking forward to sharing with you all the newest release in my Wolf series: Wolf, in League. For those that are joining the tour for the first time, welcome! And for those who have been here before, it’s amazing to see you again.

As I’ve done with the rest of the tours for these Wolf releases, this blog tour and giveaway is all about teasers. Tiny teasers, to be most accurate, which I like to think of as nothing more than a “bite” to whet your “appetite” for the rest. But before I let you get to it, I want to let you know about the giveaway that comes along with the tour. Follow through to the end of the post to learn how you could win your very own signed, print copy of Wolf in League, a “crystal and silver” diamante Howling Wolf Pendant, and a $20 gift certificate to the Less Than Three Press book market.

And now, the teaser, and an inside—or should I say outside—look at the GDBCG…

Tiny Teaser: Post 2

It wasn’t the stars that drew him here in the wee hours of the morning, though. It was the bats. There was something about the construction of the Center that drew a bucket load of bats, not that Matthew could have said what it was. The thing he found most interesting about the phenomena was that one could find them swooping and swaying around the building’s concrete block walls and its flat, thermoplastic roof at times other than the hour or so between dusk and darkness. Common sense told Matthew it had to do with insect population, reflective lighting, and a lack of predators, but the owls and hawks that were common to the area made that last reason somewhat unlikely.

Who really knew, though? Maybe the same things that kept the doctors peeking covertly at dark shadows kept the smarter birds of prey away as well. Regardless, Matthew found himself staring at the tiny, black, soundless beasts for stretches of time that surprised him when he finally thought to check his watch. For creatures of the night with all kinds of Hollywood superstitions behind them, they were surprisingly peaceful to watch.

He’d just told himself that he’d better be heading back in when a sound seemed to brush past his ear. He cocked his head, paused, and listened. He almost thought it could have been one of the bats, drawn by the light or maybe the scent of his cologne, but if it had been a bat, then it was one of the most talented bats in history. Because there’d been something awfully weird in the way it had sounded. If he’d been asked to say what that oddness was, he would have had no choice but to admit—foolishly, really—that he’d heard someone speak. His name, even. Which was more ridiculous than imagining someone had spoken in the first place. He was six stories off the ground. He could see every inch of the otherwise empty balcony. Besides, there was no one else on the level Matthew occupied but for a security guard who had been half-asleep, if not completely asleep, when Matthew had walked past him twenty minutes ago; Matthew had checked the sign-in roster just to make sure because he’d wanted to have a chat with one of his colleagues regarding a certain finding Matthew had stumbled across the night before. And there were no after-hours visitors allowed, without exception. Even during the day, not even an expected guest would get past the security gate without a badge—a badge which automatically added their name, picture, and personal details to the roster so that anyone who was anyone would know where they were allowed to be and where they were not. If there was someone out in the darkness whispering his name at barely audible levels, it had to be one of the bats. Or a very talented deer with the ability to fly.

Matthew flipped up his collar, shook his head and turned back to the door that he’d left propped open behind him. The doors were all glass. The windows were glass. Glass, glass, everywhere glass. He’d often figured it was there for security more than just an effort to soften the rest of the cold concrete building. After all, it was easy to see through; nothing could hide behind a glass door. It was also reflective.

So when he saw a face—a smirk, bright eyes, sharp cheekbones—shining back at him, Matthew startled. He whirled back to face the balcony.

There was no one there. Just the stars and bats above him, and the trees, manicured lawn, and fading gardens below him.

Wolf, in League Excerpt
© AF Henley, 2016

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Blurb

Wolf, in League

It’s been months since anyone at the Committee has had any contact from the O’Connell family or their pack members, and they are not happy. Suspicious of the activities that took place in D.C. and determined to find out what the wolves are up to, the Committee recruits one of their newest residents, Doctor Matthew Dietrich, to play the part of neighbor and infiltrate the family.

Matthew has always been a keep-to-himself kind of person. Though idealistic and optimistic, he prefers to work in solitude, at night, while he researches the findings that he hopes will one day change the world. When he’s approached by the executives of the Center, he has no idea why they’d choose him. And to say he is skeptical over the concept of men that can shift into wolves would be an understatement. Until he meets his new partner, the man that will play the part of his “husband” in the Committee’s scheme, Doctor Gavin Strauss.

Genre: Gay, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy

Notes: Wolf, in League contains some explicit and violent content

Book 3 in the Wolf series

Purchasing Link – save 15% by preordering your copy today! Discount available until October 10th

The Giveaway

On behalf of the tour, please join the giveaway by taking part in the Rafflecopter below. The prize consists of a signed, print copy of Wolf in League, a “crystal and silver” diamante Howling Wolf Pendant, and a $20 gift certificate to the Less Than Three Press book market.

For all the terms and conditions, please check out the t’s and c’s posted on the Rafflecopter.

** Please note that this giveaway is being offered tour-wide and there will be one winner awarded for the entire event.

ENTER RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY HERE:

Again, a great big thank you to Cinderella Stories for having me today. And my thanks to you as well for joining in. Best of luck with the giveaway and I hope you enjoyed the post!

Until next time,

AF Henley ❤

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About the Author

Henley was born with a full-blown passion for run-on sentences, a zealous indulgence in all words descriptive, and the endearing tendency to overuse punctuation. Since the early years Henley has been an enthusiastic writer, from the first few I-love-my-dog stories to the current leap into erotica.

A self-professed Google genius, Henley lives for the hours spent digging through the Internet for ‘research purposes’ which, more often than not, lead seven thousand miles away from first intentions but bring Henley to new discoveries and ideas that, once seeded, tend to flourish.

Henley has been proudly publishing with Less Than Three Press since 2012.

For more information, please stop by for a visit at afhenley.com.

Book Excerpt and Giveaway: One Night at the Palace Hotel by by Bianca Mori

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Buqo Links:
Download the Android app: http://bit.ly/buqodroid
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***For readers 18 and up***

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One Night at the Palace Hotel by by Bianca Mori

For years, Chessa loved only one man, but she couldn’t make him love her back. To fill the emptiness, she goes into meaningless relationships until one night she realizes she can’t take it any more. Chessa escapes to the beautiful Hundred Islands chain on her own for some soul searching and a little adventure. What she finds there and whom she meets give her the shock of her life and the hottest adventure to last a lifetime.

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Book Excerpt

One Night at the Palace Hotel

One Night at the Palace Hotel by Bianca Mori

The line to Hot Doug’s snaked down the residential block in a pleasant but decidedly more working class part of the city than the Lincoln Park neighborhood Consuelo lived in. She stamped her feet in the chill fall air. The sidewalk cold seeped into her fashionable but seasonally inappropriate flat boots, but she also stamped in annoyance at traveling all this way for hotdogs. Gourmet, Zagat-rated hotdogs, but still.

Blame her homesickness for the whole thing.

She’d woken up in the middle of the night in a panic, tears streaming down her cheeks. She’d been in the US for six weeks and had gone through a rollercoaster of emotions—something akin to the stages of grief she’d learned in freshman psych, but what exactly her emotional stages were signifying, she did not know or understand. Six weeks ago she was excited and giddy as she watched Manila recede from her airplane window. After a week in Chicago, she felt brave and resigned, like a soldier facing the great unknown. Then the quiet in her small, bare apartment made her anxious. Then she stepped into her first class and felt lost and out of place. Now she had progressed into a full-on black depression.

As soon as the sobs calmed she went online to speak with her best friend. “I want to go home! This is all a big mistake!” she wailed the minute Cora’s delicate features filled the tablet screen.

By the time the call ended, an hour later, Cora had sufficiently calmed her down and bucked her up with typical bluntness–reminding her that wasn’t this the plan all along, to get away from stifling parents and monumental expectations? Wasn’t this why she went AWOL from school in Manila and psyched her parents out by lazing around for a year until they agreed to college abroad? What was all the emotional blackmail and conniving and ingratiating to the wealthy spinster grandaunt for, if not for this?

Cora’s sleep-deprived scowl deepened. “How often have you been out of the apartment, Con? Except for classes and groceries?”

“There was, uh, Art Institute last month…”

“Geez, Con, no wonder you’re going crazy. Get out of your place, get out of your head. Didn’t we make a list of all the places you wanted to visit?”

“Yeah.”

“And? Get off Skype and out the door, loser!”

So Consuelo brushed off the list, plotted an itinerary, downloaded directions, put on a coat and boots, and did exactly what Cora said.

The first place on the list was famous Hot Doug’s, of which Anthony Bourdain gushed so exuberantly; but she did not realize it was such a long-ass bus ride away. Twenty-two bus stops, she counted. Why did American cities have to be so gigantic? Why couldn’t they be sensibly manageable, like Asian cities—like Singapore or Hong Kong? Or Manila, for that matter, where you could stand on a footbridge in Makati and spit on Pasay?

She also did not expect that the square red brick restaurant—sorry, “Sausage Superstore”—would be as popular as she’d been warned. The store was still closed yet already there were probably 30 people lined up before her. She stamped her feet again and groaned.

“Woah there,” said a male voice behind her. Consuelo ignored it, quickly learning that if you honestly answered the Midwesterners’ reflexive “How ya doin’ today?” greeting you could get sucked into a long, uncomfortable small-talk situation. Better be the unfriendly FOB who smiled mysteriously and then averted her eyes instead of yakking with people one did not actually care about.

“You might break a toe if you keep doing that,” said the voice. She let out an irritated huff in response.

“That’s a pity,” the voice pronounced. “Pretty, but rude.”

There was something so smug and self-satisfied about the voice, and the way it announced things like it was the authority on everything, that pierced through Consuelo’s self-imposed remoteness, making her turn and confront the speaker.

And promptly lose the ability to speak for a few moments.

The accent, pitch and volume had her preparing for a blue-eyed blond jock with a beefy neck and chapped, wind-burnt cheeks; she did not expect the tall Asian with the swimmer’s body that perfectly filled in a beat-up leather jacket. He also had piercing brown eyes and a sardonic, self-possessed smile. Of course. He had to be just her type.

“Hi. I’m Sam,” he said, taking advantage of her shock to thrust a hand and introduce himself. “I take it you’re not a regular?”

“What makes you say that?” She did not taking the offered palm.

He put it back into his pocket without missing a beat. “The look of annoyance. If you come here often, you’d know what to expect. See anyone else complaining?”

She looked at the pleasant faces around her and the buzz of good-natured small talk and sighed. “Those hot dogs better be fucking good.”

He laughed. “So fucking good you’d want to take them behind the middle school and get them pregnant.” She bit down a smile. “Come on. That was a good line, yeah?”

“Only because you stole it from 30 Rock,” she said tartly.

His laugh was unperturbed. “So what do they call you, then, gorgeous?”

Was this guy for real? “Excuse me?”

“What’s your name?”

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Join the giveaway by clicking the link below:

Rafflecopter Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/c30af113/

Good luck and happy reading! ❤