Craves The Angst: BLOG TOUR with AUTHOR Q&A and GIVEAWAY

TITLE: Seared on My Soul
AUTHOR: Cole Gibsen
AGE GROUP: New Adult
GENRE: Contemporary Romance
RELEASE DATE: June 27, 2016
PUBLISHER: Entangled Embrace
PAGES: Approx. 230
TOUR COORDINATED BY:
IndieSage PR

BOOK BLURB:
She’s so young, so full of life…

I couldn’t let her die…

Even if she made the world’s worst coffee.

Emily Garret never asked to be rescued, let alone by a walking JCrew ad whose idea of fun is probably managing his stock portfolio and watching the nightly news. Then again, she never thought she would wind upside-down in a ditch after a night having a little too much fun.

Reece Montgomery never planned on being anyone’s hero, especially the foul-mouthed, bleach-blonde barista from the local coffee shop. He thinks there’s more to Emily than her tattoos, and lip ring, but getting close means letting her into his past and meeting his ghosts.

And he’s not sure she’s ready for that battlefield.

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TEASER IMAGES

AUTHOR Q&A plus EXCERPT

We asked Cole to answer some quesitons about herself and about her book. Here's what she had to say...

Q: What is a typical day in your life?
A: Aside from writing, I also train PTSD service dogs for veterans. It’s tricky, but I have to divide my time between the two jobs. I give myself one hour of writing time, followed by training time, then I do an hour of internet work (answering emails, social media, ordering supplies, etc), followed by training, then writing, and so on until I eat a cheeseburger or collapse—whatever comes first.

Q: What inspired you to write Seared On My Soul?
A: I was inspired to write this book by the strength of the many veterans I work with. PTSD is a terrible thing to have to battle, and I wanted to portray my hero sensitively and accurately.

Q: List (5) things you’ll never do again.
A: 1. Drink Tequila
2. Wear JNCOs. Yes, I was a 90’s teen.
3. Perm my hair. (See above answer)
4. Go on a carb-free diet. I’m not an animal.
5. Buy anything fitness related from one of those As Seen On TV commercials. I never did get my buns of steel.

Q: If you could be any age again for a week, which would you choose?
A: Twenty-two hands down! I could eat whatever I wanted without gaining a pound, and for some reason I didn’t require sleep. It’s a magical age.

Q: Give an example of a paragraph of your work before and after editing.
A: I have a sadistic internal editor that is found of telling me how crappy my drafts are. Because of this, I never keep my earlier drafts, so there is no evidence left behind.

Q: How did you choose the genre you write in?
A: From the moment when I was in junior high and I swiped my first romance novel from my grandmother, I was hooked. I’m proud to be a romance junkie.

Q: How did you come up with this book’s title?
A: Seared on my Soul is the companion novel to Written on my Heart. I wanted a title that complimented the first, but also conveyed the sexiness and touch of darkness that makes this novel stand by itself.

Q: What was your favorite chapter (or part) to write and why?
A: The dialogue in this book was by far the most fun to write. When you put a firecracker tattooed barista like Emily together with a straight and narrow war veteran, you’re going to have a lot of fun conversations.

Q: What project are you working on now?
A: I’m actually working on two different books right now. I’m finishing up a YA retelling of Mansfield Park. When that’s done I’ll be working on my next Entangled Embrace about a young paparazzo and the hunky celebrity she makes a pact with—she’ll pretend to be his girlfriend in exchange to exclusive photo rights. No lying, I totally had Norman Reedus in my mind when I came up with this idea.

Q: Is anything in your book based on real life experiences or purely all imagination?

A: I train PTSD service dogs for veterans, so I have the honor of working with many veterans. I was inspired by them to come up with a hero who would sensitively and accurately portray their struggle and strength.

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EXCERPT for SEARED ON MY SOUL

by Cole Gibsen

My world becomes nothing but pain. Every breath is a mixture of blood, smoke, and gasoline.

From far away, I hear sirens and muf ed voices that can’t quite penetrate the darkness I’ve fallen into. Blood, tasting of copper, trickles down my throat. A searing ache, like barbed wire, rips into every inch of my body.
Am I dying?

Terror coils around my gut and I ail in the darkness inside my mind, desperate for anything to hold onto, an object to keep me grounded so I won’t fall away. My ngers brush against something soft and I grab hold, twisting the fabric into my st.

It doesn’t take me long to realize the fabric is attached to something—or rather someone—because seconds later a pair of muscular arms snake around my shoulders and press me against an equally rm chest. It doesn’t make sense. I haven’t been held this way since Daddy died nearly a decade ago. “Can you hear me?” The unfamiliar voice sounds distant, echoing inside my head like a cavern. I try to answer, but my throat is tight and blood coats my

tongue. Instead, I hold tighter, pressing my knotted ngers against his chest. His warmth bleeds into my skin, loosening the fear twisted around my ribs just enough for me to breathe— only it comes as a gasp. “I don’t want to die.” The words are a surprise, but I realize they’re the truest words I’ve ever spoken.

Unconsciousness tugs at me with velvety ngers, pulling me deeper inside myself. I clutch the fabric in my hands, suddenly terri ed that if I’m pulled away, I might not be able to nd my way back.

The darkness presses against me, smashing me beneath a wall of endless satin. My ngers lose their grip on the man’s shirt, and I can feel myself slipping. Fear rises inside my throat, a jagged lump I can barely breathe around. “Don’t,” I manage to choke. My voice sounds far away—almost as if it were coming from outside my body. Or maybe I’m the one outside my body.

The thought sends an icy wave of terror crashing over me.

“Don’t what?” the man asks, sounding farther away than before. Even so, the panic in his voice is unmistakable.

The darkness grows heavier, and I am too weak to ght. Even my fear ebbs under the crushing weight of exhaustion. It takes all my remaining strength, but I manage to breathe life into the words tangled on my tongue before

unconsciousness consumes me.

“Don’t let me go.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR...

At seventeen Cole found herself homeless with only a beat-up Volkswagen Jetta and a bag of Goodwill clothing to her name. The only things that got her through the nights she spent parked in truck stops and cornfields were the stacks of books she checked out from the library along with her trusty flashlight. Because of the reprieve these books gave her from her troubles, Cole vowed to become a writer so she could provide the same escape to readers who needed a break the reality of their own lives.

Connect with the Author...