One of my Sexy to Go sisters in crime has a new release. With more than 20 titles under her belt, Sofia Grey knows a thing or two about the perils of skipping steps. In this short but sweet writing tip, she advises extreme caution. (Yes, I'm really killing this suspense pun, but it's been a long, promo-intense week...)
Oh, before I forget, Sofia has some swag on offer. Hurry, you only have until 14 December to enter!
by Sofia Grey
Always, ALWAYS, do a final read-through of the finished manuscript. It doesn't matter if you've had it professionally edited, and you've already spent a month staring at the pages, it can still have glitches and typos. I've published over 20 titles, with a number of publishers, and in every case, I've caught at least one error in the final version.
by Sofia Grey
Krista Inglewood’s addiction runs deep; she can't survive without a regular fix. Her Talisman bracelet, stolen when she was a child, was the only thing that ever kept the craving at bay. Until she meets Matty. He sneaks under her defenses and calms the incessant noise in her head.
Matty knows Krista is bad news, but he can’t get enough of her. His first instinct is to help, but when he learns her addiction is linked to the sickness crippling his sister, he has to face the ugly truth.
Finding her missing Talisman may be the only thing that can save Krista.
It was late, and my head spun with all the information Alex had shared. When he went to join Sylvie in bed, I slipped outside for some fresh air. Make that fucking-freezing air. The end of November was cold in Britain anyway, but here, in a remote part of North Wales, it felt bitter. We were close to the sea, and I’d naively thought the climate would be mild, but instead it was the kind of damp that seeped into your bones. I made a mental note to buy a down-filled jacket or stay indoors. That would work too.
When I stepped farther away from the house, out of the immediate range of the security lights, I finally saw the night sky and stopped in my tracks. I came from Manchester, where the only kind of Milky Way on offer was a chocolate bar. Here, the sky was so bright with stars, I could have been on a different planet. I gazed, open-mouthed, forgetting the cold, forgetting Janine, and everything weighing me down.
“Feels close enough to touch, huh?”
The husky female voice sent chills down my spine, and for a second I forgot how to breathe. A crunch of gravel beside me identified her position. I knew without looking it was her. Film girl. She had exactly the voice I expected. Low. Almost no accent. Sexy. I inhaled, catching a hint of a spicy perfume, and then I turned to face her. God. Up close she was even more stunning. Her wild dreads were tied back, and she wore a tight-fitting, pale, leather biker jacket. A motorbike helmet dangled from one hand. She was a biker? My inner lust monster sat up and took notice.
She’d spoken, this goddess of leather and hair, and I stood there like an imbecile. “I…” Words failed me. Stars. She was talking about the stars. “Yeah. Beautiful.” I studied her face as I spoke. My night vision had adjusted, and there was enough light leaching from the windows, to illuminate her eyes. They almost glowed, sparking with mischief and life.
“Thank you.” She stepped closer, light on her feet, and I had to work hard to make sure I wasn’t drooling. Multiple rings glittered in her ears, and I saw more metalwork in her eyebrows as well as a tiny jewel gleaming in her nose. Hang on. Did she think I meant her? Did I?
“You’re beautiful too.” Whaaat? My brain spun her words back and forth, inside-out, and upside-down, but they made no sense. I stood there, speechless, and when she moved closer and pressed cool lips against mine, I forgot my own name.
About Sofia Grey
Romance author Sofia Grey spends her days managing projects in the corporate world and her nights hanging out with wolf shifters and alpha males. She devours pretty much anything in the fiction line, but she prefers her romances to be hot, and her heroes to have hidden depths. When writing, she enjoys peeling back the layers to expose her characters’ flaws and always makes them work hard for their happy endings.
Music is interwoven so tightly into my writing that I can’t untangle the two. Either I’m listening to a playlist on my iPod, have music seeping from my laptop speakers, or there’s a song playing in my head – sometimes on auto-repeat.