Wild Marauders MC is a best seller! Well, for at least a minute. I’ve never been one to follow stuff like that but I found myself there yesterday, surprised to see that Wild Marauders MC was ranked #66 on Amazon’s best sellers list for erotica romance! Then it quickly dropped to #71, and as I write this it’s #83. How cool is that?
Do I have the right to say I’m a bestselling author? It seems almost everyone is today. At least according to the covers of their books. What defines a bestselling author? According to Wikipedia “Best-selling” refers to the estimated number of copies sold of all fiction books written or co-written by an author. Another article I found when I was looking up the definition of an Amazon bestselling author was in the Warner Coaching Newsletter. Interesting article. According to them, Amazon’s list is based on sales from its own site, which we all know they update every hour. So authors can claim they are Amazon bestsellers, but for only a short time.
Still not sure, so I looked up the meaning of best seller in the dictionary. Plain and simple it reads: a book having the largest sales during a given period, or any product among those of its kind selling well at a given time. Okay, there are a lot of best sellers list out there, and yes, Amazon’s list is included in that. There are a lot, and I mean a lot of authors out there claiming to be best sellers. If they made Amazon’s list then they were at one point, for at least a minute 🙂
Should those authors be able to put bestselling author on the covers of their books? I think that’s open for debate.
Penning stories by hand and then on manual typewriter at the age of thirteen, Tory was a closet writer until the encouragement of her family prompted her into submitting to a publisher. She’s been published since 2005, and has since retired from Disney to focus on family and writing.
When a prospect kidnaps Kat thinking that she’s a doctor, Kat finds herself under the protection of the club president. Lynch likes Kat’s spunk and full curves but when she steals his Harley to escape he has no choice but to follow club rules and deal out punishment. Tempers erupt, passions explode, and punishment becomes the sweetest ecstasy!
Enjoy this short excerpt:
Their leader didn’t say much, but maybe he didn’t need to. It was obvious that he was a man of action and few words. The look he’d turned on Chicken when he ordered him to his office had spoke volumes. Reaching the entrance door, Chicken opened it and stepped inside.
As I moved to follow I was stopped when an arm shot across the open doorway, blocking my way. I glanced up to meet the sexy biker’s lethal eyes. If he thought his stony expression was going to intimidate me, he was in for a surprise. I didn’t scare easily.
I waited for him to speak, ignoring the erratic pounding of my heart.
It had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with my awareness of him.
How close we were.
“I hope you’re going to be a good little girl until I sort this shit out.”
I stiffened. I was anything but little. Sure, I was short, which made for a fuller figure than I would have liked. At twenty-seven I was comfortable with it, until someone brought attention to it by making a comment. In the old days I’d run away to cry in a corner somewhere when the skinnier girls, like the stuck-up cheerleaders I’d gone to school with, had called me fat. These days, a reference to my full figure didn’t bother me. It was the “good little girl,” part that fired me up, and if I was going to be honest, my unwanted attraction to him.
I tossed my long hair over my shoulder. “Then maybe you’d better take me home now and save yourself some grief. I’ve never been a good little girl, and I don’t intend to make things easy for you.” It was a threat and we both knew it. They were only words, empty meaningless words that I knew deep down I couldn’t possibly back up. The only thing I had going for me was my smart mouth, brains, and a nature that wouldn’t let me give in without a fight.
The slightest curve of his sensuous mouth didn’t fool me into thinking that he’d found my comment funny. His gaze zeroed in on my boobs, and I felt an immediate and unwelcome response from my nipples. Traitors! If that wasn’t bad enough, something warm and wet flowed from my core to my panties.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I said, drawing his attention back to my eyes. I was only afraid of what he made me feel. I couldn’t understand where it was coming from, but I had a feeling that he had this affect on every woman.
The corners of his mouth turned up even more. “Don’t piss me off,” he said in a deep, even tone. “Or you’ll find out what I’m capable of, and I promise you, you won’t like it.”
Another threat? “I’m sure you’re very skilled in all kinds of violence against women.”
He remained quiet for a moment, and I felt a flicker of unease. I knew better than to taunt someone I didn’t know, but it was too late to take it back now.