Vaineaway blog tour: guest post & giv
On this Sunday, we are today's stop on the Vain Blog Tour. We have a guest post written by the author and there's a tour wide giveaway. Have a wonderful day!
Vain (The Seven Deadly #1) by Fisher Amelie
Contemporary*Paperback/eBook, 355 pages
Published February 7th 2013 by Fisher Amelie (first published December 24th 2012)
If you’re looking for a story about a good, humble girl, who’s been hurt by someone she thought she could trust, only to find out she’s not as vulnerable as she thought she was and discovers an empowering side of herself that falls in love with the guy who helps her find that self, blah, blah, blah...then you’re gonna’ hate my story.
Because mine is not the story you read every time you bend back the cover of the latest trend novel. It’s not the “I can do anything, now that I’ve found you/I’m misunderstood but one day you’ll find me irresistible because of it” tale. Why? Because, if I was being honest with you, I’m a complete witch. There’s nothing redeeming about me. I’m a friend using, drug abusing, sex addict from Los Angeles. I’m every girlfriend’s worst nightmare and every boy’s fantasy.
I’m Sophie Price...And this is the story about how I went from the world’s most envied girl to the girl no one wanted around and why I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
Writing humor in New Adult-why you chose it, was it difficult or did it come naturally, and your favorite humorous scene in VAIN?
“They want to know why you put humor in your books, Fisher.”
“Because I’m the funniest person I’ve ever met?”
“Surely not. Everyone knows you’re actually a giant boob.”
“Ugh! You brat! I’ll have you know these are real!”
*sighs* “No, no. You’re a boob. A dolt, an ignoramus, lamebrain, lunkhead, meathead, a nitwit. Shall I continue?”
“I find it incredibly alarming that you’re so well versed in synonyms for the word boob.”
“That’s what you find alarming? Not the accusation itself?”
“You wanna’ take this outside, Fisher?”
“Yeah, Fisher. Actually, I do.”
*shrinks into herself* “Yeah, well….If I didn’t have a tuba lesson in, like, forty-five minutes, I’d clean your clock!”
“Couldn’t miss your precious music lesson. You’re nothin’ but a yellow-bellied, lilly-livered coward.”
“Who you callin’ a coward, poopface!”
“Poopface! Why I aughta’!”
“Girls! Girls!”
“Is that a third Fisher?”
“Yes, I suppose I’m the voice of reason here.”
“Reason schmeason. You suck.”
“Really, Fisher? That’s the best you got?”
“I’ll have you know I can spar with the best of them. I just choose not to today. Fool’s argument and all that.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Spoken like a real poopface.”
“Again with the poopface. I literally detest that word.”
“What word?”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Are you going to answer or not?”
“Answer what?”
“Why you put humor into your books?”
“Why are you asking me? I’m you, remember?”
“I’m you? That means you’re me?”
“Yeah.”
“Then who’s she?”
“She’s us.”
“No way.”
“Way.”
“Do we know our butt is that big?”
“It is not! It’s…healthy.”
“Yeah, if healthy means a gigantic derriere.”
“Fisher!”
“Answer the question!!!”
“Fine then. I put humor because it breaks up monotony, adds personality to my characters. Plus, it’s fun.”
“Does it come naturally to you Fisher?”
“Kinda’. Sorta’…Okay, not really. Is it obvious?”
“Kinda’. Sorta’…Yes.”
“You’re mean, you know that?”
“You’re doing it to yourself, you realize that, right?”
“Moving on then. What’s your favorite humorous scene in VAIN?”
“The one where the thingy happens with the thingy during the thingy.”
“You are terrible at this.”
“Fine. They can just read it.”
“You’re exhausted.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
He laughed louder, making my heart sputter. “Irritable when you’re tired, are we?”
I smiled across the seat at him. “Irritable, are we?” I mocked, pathetically attempting his Sith Ifrican accent, which made him laugh even harder.
“Just a bundle of laughs today,” I teased, drawing out my words from sleepiness.
“Well, I’m a bit delirious with the only,” he pitched his brows toward the roof of the jeep, “seven hours of sleep I got in the past two days.”
I yawned loudly at the mere mention of sleep. I leaned my head against the window. “Classes are cancelled for two days after the kids recover. I’m making an executive decision and I’m going to sleep for both of them.”
“As long as I get to sleep with you.”
My eyes bugged from my head. “Pardon?” I asked in disbelief.
Ian stared at me, eyes wide. “I-I just meant...I meant that, uh, that I also wanted to sleep with you.”
I laughed out loud.
“I mean, not with you but sleep in my own bed during the time in which you also sleep...in your bed. We’d be asleep in two separate beds. You in yours and me in mine.” One of his hands left the steering wheel and ran the length of his face. “God, I’m deprived.” A quick glance my way. “Of sleep! Deprived of sleep!” His hand slapped the wheel. “God, shut up, Din.”
“Hope they liked that.”
“Me too.”
“Girls, you need to thank Reader Girls for putting up with us.”
“You mean having us, right?”
“No, I meant what I said.”
About the author:
Fisher Amelie
Fisher Amelie is the author of The Leaving Series, Callum & Harper and Thomas & January. She began her writing career as a copywriter for an internet marketing company wherein one of their client's said, 'Hey! You're funny. You should write books'. Which in turn she said, 'Hey, get out of here! This is the lady's restroom.' While washing her hands and the embarrassment from her face, she thought they may have had a valid point. So, she took the thousands of hours of writing stories growing up, tucked them into her pocket and began writing and writing and writing.
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Because is something different and I like to see how she becomes more mature.
ReplyDeleteIt looks like an unusual story, which interests me.
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