WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT BLOGGING?
I’v been on many guest blogs as I’m sure most authors have. My question for this post is; Do you think blogging helps spread the word of your book? Get your name known? Does it help you sell books?
Now I’m not talking spreading it to each other. You know, the whole “preaching to the choir bit.”
How many of you really have a large enough fan base/ readers, not authors that follow your guest posts? How many of you have a fan base following your personal blog?
If so, give me numbers, please.
I guess I’m having a hard time believing doing all the promoting we authors must do is garnering us much notice in the writing/selling world.
Oh yes, there are a few who have small fan bases. We don’t have the following of the biggies like Konrath or others who post.
And of course I’m constantly reading that the more stories you put out there the more notice and fans you will get to follow. Is that true? I’m not so sure.
Write a good story, all say, and you will get a following. Well? Don’t we all write good stories? We think so or we wouldn’t work so darn hard on them.
So, tell me where you stand on blogging or blog hops.
I really don’t know where I stand. Of course I’m a very slow writer so I’d rather write than promo.
Because, Mattie Wells, a pretty woman, and new in town sure jingles Cole’s spurs. She thinks Beggar is adorable and takes a shine to men who love pets. What’s a poor sheriff to do but grin and bear it?
JJ wants to start a war with the farmers for rustling his cattle. But, are the farmers to blame?
To keep the peace in town, track down cattle rustlers, return valuables from the prowling night thief, Beggar. With his deputies Wade and Sully, and Beggar, his unwanted sidekick, Cole must find a way to win Mattie’s heart, find the rustlers, and bring peace once again to Cold Creek, Kansas. Yep, Cole has a heap of trouble on his shoulders.
Mattie hurried to look under the desk. “Oh, my, it’s a little monkey.” She crawled on all fours to reach for the varmint, offering Cole a tantalizing view of her frilly petticoat and pretty ankles. “Come here, you poor baby.”
“Miss Mattie, stop.” Cole rushed over, a palm on his pistol. “He might bite you.”
Mattie got to her feet, the monkey curled in her arms. “Oh, don’t be silly. He’s what they call a ringtail and he’s half-starved to boot. I had a school friend once whose dad was an Organ Grinder. He had bought one like this shipped in from South America.” Her eyebrows lifted, her eyes on his hand hovering over his pistol. “You weren’t really planning on shooting this little fella, were you?”
“Me?” He let out a chuckle and quickly hooked his thumb over his gun belt. “I’d never think of doing something like that.” He made a show of glancing around the room. “I was just sharin’ my lunch, but he sure made a darn mess of the place.”
She petted the monkey, cooing softly while it lay snuggled in her arms. She bit her lip her eyes twinkling. “Oh, I see. And now you’re sweeping up the scraps. How sweet.”
Cole shuddered at how she could handle the critter so easily. He tried to smile. “Yes, ma’am. Sure was. Cleaning the office and feeding him, that is.”
Her eyes narrowed as she inspected the creature closely. “This fella’s too thin, must not have eaten for a while.” She fingered the metal band around its neck. “We need something to wedge the clip lock off his collar.” A frown pulled at her mouth while her eyes scanned the office. “Oh, hand me that ring of keys hanging on the peg. You hold the monkey and I’ll work the ring under the clip.”
“Uh, you keep a hold of him. I’ll pry the clip loose. I mean since he’s so comfortable with you and all.” He snatched up the key ring and edged closer. His hands trembled. “Why we doin’ this for anyhow? Must be someone’s pet with this fancy collar.”
“Probably, but this collar has sharp edges. It scratches his neck.” She perched on the edge of the desk, holding the monkey firmly, exposing the lock.
Cole moved his hands slowly. “Ah, hold on to his head nice and tight now. We don’t want him wiggling.”
She giggled. “Don’t worry.”
Sweat beaded on his forehead, the heat rushing to his face nearly searing his eyebrows. He reached for the collar, his heart racing. The ring slid under the clip and he forced it up. It snapped open with a ping.
“Now pull the collar apart.”
He did. The collar pushed open wide enough for him to twist it off.
“Yeow!” Pain shot from his hand to his elbow. He dropped the collar as if he had grabbed the hot end of a branding iron. The metal band clunked and spun across the floor. He stared at the bloody strip streaking his palm.
“I told you it was sharp.” Mattie set the ringtail on the desk and led Cole to the basin of water sitting on the ledge in the corner. She soaped a cloth and bathed his palm while he glared at the monkey. Her soft, warm hands gave him a little tingle in his belly, until she poured the whiskey over the cut.
“Yeow!” Cole blew on his hand. He didn’t know which was worse, the cut or the unexpected whiskey wash.
The ringtail rubbed and stretched its neck, then clapped. Cole gave him a scathing look.
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