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If you read my new year's post, you know that I'm currently experiencing a serious case of indie author burnout. You may ask, why not go the traditional route? Trad publishing is, after all, how I began my publishing journey. During those days, my biggest concern was meeting deadlines and praying my chosen publisher would contract my book submissions.

However, the allure of self-publishing is undeniable. The freedom, the creative control, the potential for greater royalties �� it's incredibly appealing. But the reality of being an indie author is far from a glamorous, easy ride. It's a rollercoaster of emotions, a constant uphill battle against the odds, and a relentless test of resilience.

The Marketing Maze:

One of the biggest hurdles for indie authors is marketing and promotion. Without the backing of a traditional publishing house, it's up to me to get my books noticed. This translates to:

Social media sprints: Juggling multiple platforms, creating engaging content, and consistently interacting with readers while trying to maintain a personal life.

Advertising adventures: Experimenting with different ad platforms, learning the audiences of each to determine if it's a good fit, and analyzing the cost versus ROI in hopes I haven't just wasted hard earned money.

Community building: Attending online and offline events, joining writing groups, and building relationships with fellow authors �� all while trying to avoid burnout.

The Financial Tightrope:

Let's be honest, earning a sustainable income from book sales as an indie author is a daunting challenge.

Low sales: Even with a well-written book and a decent marketing strategy, sales can be slow and discouraging. If you're lucky, there's a big rush of sales the first quarter after release. Afterwards, they slow to a trickle as you work to attract new readers to your book or series.This is why the rapid release method was created. Authors always chasing that first big rush of sales. Unfortunately, rapid release as a publishing model isn't sustainable long term for a majority of writers like me.

Cover costs: Investing in professional covers, editing, and formatting can quickly eat into your profits. Not to mention, the cost of Facebook ads, Instagram Ads, TikTok Ads, Amazon ads and the like, while they may increase sales (sometimes, not always), they also eat into your bottom line.

The ever-changing landscape: The publishing world is constantly evolving, with new platforms, trends, and marketing strategies emerging all the time. Staying ahead of the curve while maintaining a profitable business model is a constant struggle and a source of tremendous stress.

The Emotional Rollercoaster:

Rejection is an inevitable part of the writing journey, but for indie authors, it can be particularly brutal:

Reader reviews: Negative reviews can be incredibly hurtful, even if they are constructive. It's a constant battle to maintain a thick skin and not let criticism derail your writing.

The Island of Isolation:

Working alone as an indie author can be incredibly isolating and lonely.

Lack of support: Unlike traditionally published authors who have a team of editors, marketers, and publicists, indie authors often feel like they're on an island, facing all the challenges alone.

Missing the camaraderie: The camaraderie and support of other authors is critical, when you can find it. It takes another author to really understand the daily ups and down of being an indie author.

The Imposter Syndrome:

Self-doubt is a constant companion for many indie authors.

"Am I good enough?" Questions about your writing ability, your marketing skills, and whether you're even cut out for this career are common.

Comparison trap: It's easy to get caught up in comparing yourself to other successful indie authors, leading to feelings of inadequacy and frustration.

Tips for Surviving the Indie Journey:

Build a strong support system: Connect with other indie authors, join online writing communities, and find mentors who can offer guidance and encouragement.

Focus on your writing: Don't let the business side of things consume you entirely. Make time for writing and nurture your creativity.

Celebrate small victories: Acknowledge and celebrate your achievements, no matter how small.

Learn to detach: Don't take negative reviews personally. Focus on the constructive criticism and use it to improve your writing.

Practice self-care: Remember to prioritize your mental and physical health. Take breaks, exercise, and spend time with loved ones.

Being an indie author is a challenging but incredibly rewarding journey. It requires dedication, resilience, and a thick skin. But for those who are passionate about their writing and willing to put in the hard work, the rewards can be immense.

What are your biggest challenges as an indie author? Share your thoughts and experiences in the comments below.

Pushing aside the aspect of our future that distressed me, I focused on the part that thrilled my heart. We were getting married. The knowledge roused every childhood dream I’d ever had of walking down a church aisle dressed in a princess gown. My father would be by my side, and my handsome groom would stare at me as though I were the most beautiful woman in the world. The audience would ooh and aah at the magnificence that was me. 

“How big of a church ceremony do you want?�� I asked before scooping up a spoonful of the sumptuous chocolate mousse they’d provided for dessert. It had a dark chocolate cookie crust and was topped with homemade whipped cream from real cows. Everything we’d eaten had been more delicious than the synthesized food I generally consumed. 

Bain paused in the act of reaching for his dessert. “Church? I thought we’d go to the courthouse and get married.��

“Courthouse?�� I echoed dumbly.

“Well, yeah. I mean, who would we invite? As far as family, there’s just you and your sister. I have my parents, but my brother is off planet and won’t be able to return. Other than that, we both have a few friends and coworkers we might want to invite. No sense paying for a church when our numbers are so few,�� Bain said. 

I took a sip of wine as another long-held dream of mine died a slow death. 

Ever sensitive to my mood, Bain asked, “Did I say something wrong?��

Chuckling without humor, I took a larger swallow of wine and set my glass on the table. “I think every girl dreams of what their wedding will one day be like. Mine was this elaborate affair. The church would be filled with hundreds of admiring people. My dad would walk me down the aisle, and my debonair groom, dressed in a tuxedo, would shed a tear at the beauty of me in my beautiful white dress. It’s ridiculous,�� I scoffed in self-directed mockery.

“Hey, don’t say that,�� Bain chided. “I don’t think it’s ridiculous at all. Dreams are important, and I want our marriage to start off on the right note. If you want the big church and a fancy dress, we can make it happen. I only plan to do this once. Might as well go all out.��

Standing, I rounded the table and motioned for Bain to scoot back. When he did, I sat in his lap and placed my arms around his neck. “You are the sweetest man ever. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you in my life. I don’t need an elaborate wedding or an expensive wedding dress.”��

“Are you sure, because we could–��

I placed a finger over his lips, stopping him. “I’m sure. I mean, let’s think about this for a minute. Who is going to walk me down the aisle? My father died years ago. I have an uncle, but we’re not close. But here’s the real kicker, I don’t know hundreds of people and even if I did, you know I hate being the center of attention. Being the focal point of that many people would make me break out in hives.��

Bain laughed as I intended. When the laughing stopped, he gently pushed a curl out of my eye and tucked it behind my ear. “Don’t give up all of your dreams. I’d absolutely love to see you in a beautiful wedding gown. I’d take a picture and pull it out on our fiftieth wedding anniversary.”��

My heart melted as I fell a little bit more in love with him. Bain really was a wonderful man. He was definitely worth whatever sacrifice I needed to make to ensure we’d be together. With that, the last of my reservations faded away. 

After one last lingering kiss, I returned to my seat to finish the rest of our meal. Giddy with a potent cocktail of happiness, excitement and nerves, I drank three glasses of wine, finishing the bottle. Bain’s smile was indulgent as he poured the last few ounces into my wine glass.

“I can’t eat another bite,�� I announced, setting down my spoon.

“Are you sure? There’s only a few bites left,�� Bain said, gesturing to the bowl.

I placed my hand on my overly-stuffed stomach. “Positive. If I eat another bite, I’ll burst.��

“If you’re absolutely sure...�� he teased, holding a spoon of delicious goodness near my lips.

I gently pushed it away. My mouth was tempted, but my stomach warned I’d regret it. Shrugging, Bain placed the bowl in front of him and finished it off in three, swift bites. “Would you like an after-dinner coffee?��

“After all of the wine I drank, I probably need one, but I’ll pass,�� I said. My consumption ban extended to liquids, too.

“Be right back,�� Bain said. He rose, traveled down the path, and disappeared around a corner. When he returned, he held a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. At my questioning look, he said, “Self-serve coffee station.��

I inhaled deeply. “That doesn’t smell like any coffee I’ve had.��

Bain took a sip, gave a low moan, and closed his eyes to better savor the flavor. “I think it’s made from real coffee beans. Want a sip?��

Tempted though I was, I reluctantly shook my head. I had a coffee addiction and had the sneaking feeling that if it was as good as I suspected, it would forever ruin coffee for me.

I returned my gaze to the night sky as Bain enjoyed his coffee. The biodome was constructed of interconnected triangles made of a durable material which resembled glass. It was virtually indestructible, blocked ultraviolet rays, and didn’t fog, no matter the temperature. The cool, moist air carried the subtle scent of blooming flowers and damp earth, blending perfectly with the rich aroma of Bain’s coffee. I’d never experienced anything like it.

Bain glanced at the communication device on his wrist when it beeped and sighed. “I work tonight. If I’m to make it on time, we need to leave now.��

Frowning, I centered my gaze on him. “I thought you requested tonight off?��

He set his cup down and stood. “I did, but the powers that be changed the timetable on when they want the first leg of the project completed, upping it by a week. As a result, all paid time off was canceled.��

“How’s it going?�� I asked.

Bain's employer had been contracted to tunnel a new level. U-Town had over fifty thousand residents. Housing was limited, and the city-state had been forced to put population control measures in place. Both males and females were implanted with birth control devices upon reaching puberty. The devices remained in place until age twenty-six in females and age thirty in males, if legally married. The married couple had ten years to conceive a maximum of two children before the implants were automatically reinserted.

“With the new deadline, if we finish on time, the new section should be ready for habitation next year,�� Bain said.

When I stood, the room titled before righting itself. “Whoa!��

Laughing, Bain held out his hand, and I gladly took it. Hand in hand, we walked down the winding path towards the exit.

“The new level is zoned family only, right?�� I asked. I believed that’s what I heard on the news.

“Families and family related businesses. There will be a small hub with shops like barbers, grocers, pet groomers, etc., and a greenspace for family gatherings and exercise,�� Bain agreed.

I sighed wistfully. “Sounds nice. Better than the cramped quarters I share with my roommates. We haven’t discussed housing. How hard do you think it will be for us to find an affordable place to live? Do you think we’ll qualify for housing in the new section if we apply now?��

Bain squeezed my hand and glanced down at me. “I'm hoping we won’t need it. If I get the job, we’ll be off-planet and housing will be provided, and when we return after five years, we'll have enough money to live wherever we want."

“Maybe we should apply, just in case,�� I said, my voice tinged with doubt. We couldn’t get married until we had a place to live. I didn’t think we should place all of our hopes on Bain getting this job. 

“If it will make you happy, we can put in an application when they open up, but I'm really hoping we won't be here.�� Bain halted our forward progress and turned to face me. “Selene, I finally have a real shot. Nardo is putting in a good word for me. He says there’s not a lot of applicants with my particular skill set. He thinks I’ll get it and I believe him.��

I bit my lower lip. “It’s not that I doubt you. If IMC is smart, they’ll snap you right up. I simply don’t believe in leaving anything to chance.��

Bain stared into my eyes before nodding somberly. He kissed my forehead and said, “You’re absolutely right.” ��

We entered the empty elevator lobby, and Bain pushed the call button. I examined the directional plaque mounted on the wall next to it. It read: U-Town Express, Main Floor, Catwalk, and Observatory. 

“I wish we had time to visit the observatory,�� I said with a yearning glance toward the observatory. We’d come into the conservatory via the Catwalk, and the high-level view of all the plants and waterfall had been simply amazing. Bain’s canceled leave explained why we hadn’t begun our tour on the top floor. 

Surrounding the conservatory were acres and acres of solar panels, secured low to the ground and tilted at a slight angle to combat the tumultuous weather. During the day, when the sun was high and the sky clear, it was like looking out over a sea of glass as the reflective lenses caught the sun. I wondered how it would look at night with millions of stars in the sky. 

Bain wrapped his arms around me from behind and rested his chin on my head. “I’m sorry. I’d planned for us to see it. Maybe next time.��

“Okay,�� I said, my tone dubious. 

The words public conservatory was a misnomer. To maintain the delicate ecosystem balance, the conservatory restricted the amount of daily visitors. As a result, the prices were high and the waitlist long. It was a popular place, for a good reason. Who knew how long Bain had to wait to get this reservation? To expect a second one wasn’t reasonable.

“I promise we’ll come back. Hey, maybe we can have our wedding here?�� Bain said on a stroke of pure inspiration.

I grinned at him. “That would be wonderful if we can make it happen.��

The box car arrived, and we descended down to the platform of the U-Town Express. The Express was a bullet train that traveled the hour-long ride to the core of U-Town in a matter of minutes. The tunnel and tracks were originals of the centuries old subway system when humans dwelled aboveground and climate change a concern only a few took seriously. If only they’d had a time travel machine to see first hand the consequences of their lack of care for earth’s environment. 

We exited the box car elevator to the announcement that the train would be departing in sixty seconds. Wrapping an arm around my waist to ensure I kept up, Bain and I ran for the open train door. We crossed over the threshold just as the doors began to close. The twenty or so people in the car explained why there had been no passengers waiting in the lobby. 

We collapsed onto a bench. I grinned up at Bain, and he leaned down and kissed it off my lips. With a happy sigh, I laid my hand with my engagement ring on his chest and rested my head on his shoulder. Bain gave a contented sigh and played with my hair as we enjoyed the ride. 

Twenty minutes later, the Express braked in U-Town Central. The doors opened, and we stepped out onto the brightly lit platform. Pushing our way through the waiting people, we turned left and walked toward the exit. A large portion of the group continued straight into A-Hub Central. We turned at the massive staircase and walked down to Level C to catch the next train. 

I lived in U-Town West, on Level C, near the Hub. The west hub wasn’t as large as Hub Central, but it had everything my roommates and I needed within walking distance. There was another fifteen-minute train ride followed by a five-minute walk and I’d be home. 

The further away we got from the center, the darker it got outside. To maintain our circadian rhythms, the lights in U-Town mimicked the movement of the sun. The artificial sunrise rose in the east and set in the west. At night, the lights mimicked the darkness of a starry night, complete with pinpricks of lights. Streetlights lined the lane for safety and crime prevention.

Other than electric mopeds, motorized vehicles weren’t allowed. People walked everywhere or rode bicycles. Vehicle emissions were strictly regulated. Dwelling underground meant that clean air was a precious commodity. No one wanted to pollute it. 

My apartment was located in a section of town created for singles. The complex contained three levels. I lived on the top floor in a two-bedroom apartment with three roommates. It was the only way we could afford the spacious apartment.

Bain and I walked up the three flights of wooden stairs. The front of the apartment was a marvel of wood and glass, meant to allow in as much light as possible. The apartment’s only windows were in the front. The rest of the space was built into the rock. Our landing was lined with flower and vegetable pots. My sister, Harri, had a green thumb. I’d learned everything I knew about growing things from her. 

At the door, Bain caught me by the hips and drew me in close for a kiss. “I can’t wait until we’re married, and I no longer have to leave you at the door.��

I hugged him tight, not wanting to let him go. “Me, too.��

He kissed me again and released me. “I have to go. I’ll call when I take my lunch break, if it’s not too late.��

“Call anyway. I don’t care what time it is,�� I said.

Bain leaned in for another kiss before turning away. I watched as he jogged down the stairs and walked out into the street before going inside. 

Copyright (c) 2024 Zena Wynn All rights reserved

ISBN: 978-1-958215-33-3

The past

I gazed up at the sky in awe-filled wonder, my breath catching at the sight. Seeing the photos was one thing, but viewing the night sky with my own eyes was too marvelous for words. The stars shimmered like diamonds against the velvet blackness, each one a silent testament to the vastness of the universe.

“Do you like it, Cee?�� Bain’s voice, laced with worry, broke through my reverie.

Reluctantly, I tore my gaze away from the dome-covered roof. “It’s magnificent, Bain, but it must have cost you a fortune,�� I said, suddenly concerned.

His grin was pure pleasure as he reached out a hand and cupped my face, his thumb brushing gently across my cheek. “You’re worth every penny. Come, they have us set up over here.��

Bain took my hand and led me through the public conservatory. The gigantic biodome was seven stories high to accommodate a multitude of trees, some as tall as a California redwood. A manmade mountain sat in its center, covered in all manner of greenery. The air was moist, carrying the fresh, earthy scent of foliage and the subtle perfume of blooming flowers. The sound of rushing water from the indoor waterfall added a calming effect, its rhythmic murmur blending with the chirping of hidden crickets and the rustle of leaves.

We followed the meandering path through ponds and plantings until we reached a small private seating area. The table was already set with candles, a formal white tablecloth, and several covered dishes in silver domes. A bottle of wine sat chilling in an ice bucket, the condensation dripping down the sides in tiny rivulets.

Bain held out my chair, and I sat on its edge, lifting so that he could scoot me closer to the table. He stopped and lit the small candles before settling in the seat opposite me. Their flickering flames cast a warm, intimate glow. My gaze immediately drifted back to the night sky. I’d never seen so many stars.

“I hope you like what I selected for us to eat. They grow their own food, and the fish is from their ponds,�� he said, his voice soft and filled with anticipation.

As I looked at Bain, I was sure my heart was in my eyes. “Whatever you chose, I’m sure it will be wonderful.�� My gaze shifted to glance around us again. “I can’t believe you did this. I never imagined…��

Bain took my hand and brought it to his lips in a brief, tender kiss. “I told you, nothing’s too good for you. Experiencing this place has been your dream. I’m glad I could make it happen.��

I looked into his blue eyes before allowing my gaze to roam over his features. I’d hit the jackpot with Bain. He’d managed to tame his brown hair into a stylish sweep over. The few odd strands still stood up, making him look adorable, but the nicely trimmed goatee proclaimed he was all man. Bain spent most of his days in a hard hat and boots, driving heavy mining equipment, and rarely wore a suit. Tonight, he had on a button-down shirt in a shade of blue that matched his eyes and starched black jeans.

In contrast, I dressed more formally. Bain had told me, “Put on something pretty.�� That’s all the information he’d given me about tonight. I knew he liked it when I wore dresses, so I wore a black sparkly number that skimmed my knees.

I was petite for a woman, barely standing five-three, but what I lacked in height, I more than made up for in curves. My breasts and hips were what my dad had called pleasantly plump, stating I’d inherited it from my mother. God rest her soul. I’d left my shoulder-length wavy hair loose.

Bain released my hand and motioned to my plate. “Let’s eat.��

We lifted the lids off our serving dishes at the same time. Underneath was a portion of white, flakey fish seated on a bed of rice. A mixture of grilled vegetables accompanied it, their vibrant colors enticing. The smell was heavenly, a blend of citrus, herbs, and the rich aroma of perfectly cooked fish. “It looks good,�� I said, my mouth already watering.

“I asked her to put the lemon cream sauce on the side. It’s in that little dish. Oh, I almost forgot,�� Bain said as he stood. He opened the bottle of white wine and poured us each a half glass. “I know you rarely drink alcoholic beverages, but the hostess said the wine went well with the fish.��

I smiled. “I’ll give it a try. If I don’t like it, I can drink water.��

Silence fell as we ate. I couldn’t pull my gaze away from the sky. The conservatory had kept the ambient light to a minimum so as not to distract from the view. The lighted pathways and foliage barely penetrated to where we sat in our corner. Occasionally, I heard the murmur of other voices, but they weren’t intrusive. It was easy to pretend Bain and I were alone in this strange new world.

“Did you hear back from the school?�� Bain asked, interrupting my musing.

My mouth twisted in a grimace. “I didn’t get the job.��

He took a sip of his wine. “Will you get angry if I say I’m glad?��

I set my fork down, unable to believe he’d be so callous. This job had been my dream, my ideal. The potential salary had been nice, but more importantly, it would have allowed me to follow in my parents�� footsteps as educators. Being denied the opportunity had hurt tremendously.

Bain reached for my hand, and I pulled it out of reach. “Cee, don’t look at me like that. I know how much the position meant to you, but getting it came with the risk of you moving to another city. I love you and don’t want to let you go. If that makes me a selfish bastard, so be it,�� he said, his eyes earnest and pleading for me to understand.

I placed my hand over my heart as it leapt in my chest. We’d been dating for over a year but rarely saw each other due to our work schedules. Though I was pretty sure he loved me, this was the first time Bain had said the words. “I love you, too.��

“I was going to do this later, but what the hell.�� Bain rose from his seat, walked around the small table, and got down on one knee. “Selene Demetriou, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?��

He pulled a ring box out of his pants pocket and opened it. Inside was a single solitaire diamond engagement ring on a thin silver band. I covered my mouth with my hands to keep from shrieking. Hastily, I nodded as joyous tears streamed down my face.

Bain took the ring out of the box and slid it onto my left hand. As soon as he finished, I launched myself at him. We landed in a heap on the floor with me crying and him laughing. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close as his laughter vibrated through me. When I finally managed to compose myself, Bain helped me to stand and held out my seat for me to settle.

As he took his seat, Bain’s expression turned serious. “It wasn’t fair of me to ask without first warning you. If you change your mind, I’ll try to understand. My future is not a life everyone can handle.��

I wiped my face with my napkin to dry the remaining tears before holding out a hand, palm up. Bain took mine and held it in his. “Tell me. As long as I have you, that’s all that matters.��

He swallowed so hard I saw his Adam’s apple bob. “A few years ago, I came to the conclusion that I’d never have the lifestyle I want working for my current employer. I love my job, but I’m already at the top of my salary scale. So, after careful consideration, I applied for a job with the Intergalactic Mining Company, working off planet. I passed the hiring test and made it through the initial screenings. My name is on the waiting list to work off-planet.��

“Okay,�� I said slowly, wondering where he was going with this.

Bain gave a rueful smile. “You know how the system works. It’s easier to be selected for a position if you have a contact on the inside. A few years back, CJ, my brother’s best friend, was hired. A year and a half ago, because of CJ, my brother was hired by IMC. After Renardo was hired, at his urging, I applied for a position.��

I’d never met Bain’s older brother. I knew he worked off-planet and was some kind of explosives specialist. Bain was a tunnel boring specialist. His whole family was involved in mining and construction in some capacity or other.

“IMC’s benefits can’t be beat. They pay for all living and medical expenses. My salary will be enough for us to afford our own private living quarters when we return to earth. Hell, if I maintain the position for ten years, we’ll have enough to live on the surface, if we want,�� Bain said with barely suppressed excitement.

My eyes rounded in surprise. Everyone but the extremely wealthy lived in underground cities. Due to global warming, Earth’s surface temperature had gotten too hot for humans to survive. Those who lived above ground did so in specially constructed biodomes like the ones surrounding this conservatory but on a smaller scale. “They pay that much? What’s the catch?�� I asked, my cautious nature kicking in.

“I had to commit to a minimum of five consecutive years off planet. The hours are long, and the work is hazardous. In my estimation, the salary more than makes up for the sacrifice. My paycheck can go into savings and accrue interest until we return to Earth,�� he explained.

“We?�� I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Bain tilted his head to the side. “Of course, we. Do you think I’d leave you here? I want you with me, wherever I am.��

I slid my hand free and toyed with my silverware as I stared off into space. My thoughts were a morass of confusion. I’d only had a few seconds of romantic euphoria before being confronted with hard reality. I had dreams and goals. In the future Bain envisioned for us, I’d have delay those dreams. 

Bain waited patiently, allowing me time to think. Finally, I asked, “What would I do off-planet?��

He shrugged.  “Besides being my wife? I don’t know. I’m sure we can find something for you to do with your time while I’m in the mines. I’d ask Nardo, but his wife also works for IMC as a surveyor.�� Expression suddenly intense, Bain rested both forearms on the table and leaned forward. “So what do you say, Selene? Are you still willing to marry me?��

I stared at him while I considered everything. Could I put my career on hold and leave everyone I knew to follow Bain as he pursued his goal? On the other hand, who knew how many names were on that waiting list? It could be years before Bain’s name was selected, if he was selected at all. Saying yes was a huge risk, but sometimes you had to follow your heart. With fingers mentally crossed, I took a huge leap of faith. “Yes, Bain, I still want to be your wife.��

Bain let out the breath he’d been holding while awaiting my answer. “Great! IMC called. A couple of positions opened, and I'm on the short list. Now that I know you’ll go with me, I plan to do everything in my power to make sure one of those positions is mine.��

Eyes wide, I swallowed hard. “That’s great,�� I managed to say, hoping my dismay didn’t show as I gave Bain a tremulous smile.

Copyright 2024 Zena Wynn All rights reserved

ISBN: 978-1-958215-33-3

Warning: Must be 18 years or older to read this post. Not for children.

Present Day

“I need you, Selene. Please, don’t turn me away,�� a deep masculine voice spoke from behind me.

I spun around in surprise, grabbing the edge of the kitchen counter to keep from falling. “Nardo, what are you doing here? I thought you were in the mines.��

Renardo’s gaze roamed over my face and still damp hair before snagging on my chest. “I know I said I’d give you time, and I’ve tried, but I need you now. I can’t wait any longer. Please, let me touch you. Give me some of your warmth.��

His intense stare made me look down. Seeing the gap in my robe, I clutched the edges, feeling my face burn. Inwardly, I cursed my virginal reaction.

“Nardo, I–�� Need more time, I tried to say, but the words stuck in my throat.

Encroaching into my personal space, Nardo reached for the sash of my robe and pulled it loose. My robe fell open, revealing my nudity. Assuming our family quarters were empty, I hadn’t bothered dressing after my particle bath.

He groaned as though the sight of me naked pained him. “Please, Selene. Give me what I need. I promise I’ll make it good for you.��

Reluctantly, I nodded my assent. I didn’t really have a choice.

I flinched as his cool, calloused hands settled onto my waist and lifted me onto the countertop. Nardo slowly ran his hands from my waist down to the top of my thighs, sighing as though savoring the feel of my skin. Upon reaching my knees, he spread my legs wide. As he stared at my sex, I felt so damned exposed. It took every ounce of control I had not to shove him away and run for the safety of my bedroom.

“You’re so damned beautiful,�� Nardo praised as he pulled the robe off my shoulders. “You have no idea how much I need you. How happy I am to finally have you.��

Nardo lowered his head to kiss me, but I turned my head, avoiding his lips. Instead, he kissed my cheek and nibbled his way down to my neck. His labored breathing revealed his straining self-control. One hand went to my sex, parted the lips, and stroked me. The other hand roamed over my hip and ass, constantly moving. As his mouth reached my breast, a finger pushed inside. I was dry, with not even a hint of arousal, and instinctively tightened against the intrusion.

Undeterred, Nardo continued probing. His unexpected gentleness caused my tense muscles to gradually relax. My mind still screamed for me to push him away, but I gritted my teeth against the urge and allowed him to touch me as he pleased. Nardo might have a legal right to my body, but that damned contract couldn’t make me respond. As he suckled my breast, he stroked in and out of me, preparing me for penetration. Despite my mental reservations, my sex slowly moistened.

Nardo must have decided I was ready, or he couldn’t wait any longer. He grabbed me by the hips and jerked my butt to the edge of the counter. Reflex had me grasping his shoulders to keep from falling. Impatiently, Nardo wrenched on the zipper of his jumpsuit, opening it to reveal a hard, muscled chest and a straining erection.

It felt wrong to look, but curiosity made me peek. I’d only seen one other man’s penis. Nardo’s was long and thick, and his penis canted slightly to the left. The tip glistened with precum. Busy pushing the jumpsuit off his shoulders and down to his hips, he didn’t notice me examining him.

He took hold of his cock and guided it to my core, rubbing it back and forth along my slit. On each pass, he glided it over my clit. As much as I hated to admit it, it felt good and I felt myself relaxing a bit more. Using two fingers of his free hand, Nardo parted my nether lips, lined his cock up with my entrance, and sheathed himself in one powerful thrust.

Back bowing, I clutched his shoulders and bit back a shriek of pain as my body tried to adapt. Panting, I waited for the pressure to ease. My nails dug into his skin hard enough to draw blood, but I couldn’t release my grip. Small whimpers escaped my throat as I switched to shoving against his shoulders, silently demanding to be released.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.�� Nardo captured both of my hands in his, laid his forehead against mine, and spoke soothingly. “Shush, sweetheart. Damn you’re tight. Shhh…I promise it will get better soon.��

He withdrew slightly and slowly glided back in. The pace was slow but demanding. He tried to be gentle, but as he got a taste of my heat, his instincts took over. He slammed back in, needing this connection with me. Slow withdrawals were followed by forceful entries. His body angled in a way that with each thrust, he rubbed against my g-spot. My pussy moistened, drenching his member.

He kept his forehead against mine. “Look at us, Selene. Watch how your body accepts mine.��

“No.�� I didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to know. Feeling it was enough. I didn’t need a visual.

Nardo angled his mouth towards mine, once again trying to kiss me. I jerk back, deny him the intimacy of my mouth.

“Damn it, Selene. Stop holding back. You want this. I know you do. I can feel it.��

I glared at him. “You got what you wanted. Stop pushing for more.��

Growling with frustration, he increased the pace. He wriggled his hand between us and stroked my clit. My breath came out in little pleasured gasps as my resistance melted. Against my will, my hips arched up to meet each thrust. I found myself pulling him closer, and my legs lifted to wrap around his hips.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that.��

Nardo’s voice snapped me out of my lustful daze. Horrified, I dropped my legs and shoved at his hand. “Nardo, stop. Please. Don’t do this to me.��

“I have to make it good for you, too.�� He grabbed the back of my neck and slammed his mouth onto mine. Nardo kissed me until I stopped fighting. Kissed me until I couldn’t breathe. When he released me, I gasped for air. I stopped trying to push him away, but I still tried to control my response. He wouldn’t let me.

He positioned me so with each thrust, he pressed against my front wall, rubbing against a hot spot. As his hips slammed into me, his pelvis knocked against my clit. My resistance shattered. My legs lifted and wrapped around his hips. Whimpers turned into a scream as I arched into him, my body convulsing as orgasm swept through me.

Renardo swept me off the counter and onto the table. He pressed me back, covering my body with his as his hips drove into mine. Once, twice, and three times. Then he choked out a tortured sounding groan as he began to buck.

I lay dazed, eyes gazing blindly at the ceiling. Nardo was a dead weight on top of me with his head against my neck. His moist breath tickling my neck as he panted. As I mentally replayed the last few minutes, a feeling of disgust came over me. Disgust with Nardo. Disgust with this unbearable situation. Most of all, disgust with myself for enjoying his lovemaking.

“You should go. They won’t like it if you’re late to work,�� I said.

Nardo pressed his forearms on the table and lifted his head. I felt him studying my face. “Selene I–��

“I wondered what was taking you so long.��

Both Nardo and my gazes jerked towards the kitchen opening. Bain, my husband, stood in the doorway. I knew what he saw—me, his wife, splayed out naked on the table with his brother’s softening cock still embedded in my sex. Our pubic hair meshed together, shiny with the juices of our joining.

My hands shot out to cover my body; one arm crossed my breasts and the other to  cover my sex. The tip of my fingers accidentally touched Nardo’s penis, and I snatched back my hand as though I’d been burned. Glancing longingly at my discarded robe, tears stung my eyes as I fought feelings of guilt. 

The feel of Nardo sliding out of me as he stood brought my gaze back to him. “I had something that needed taking care of before I returned,�� Nardo said calmly as he shrugged his shoulders back into the jumpsuit. 

I watched helplessly, unable to glance away as Nardo tucked in his flaccid penis and fastened his suit. The jumpsuits were part of the personal protective equipment they wore as protection from the harsh conditions in the mines. The fabric was made of a luminisce fiber optic material that glowed in the dark. 

Nardo grabbed his helmet off the nearby countertop and turned to face me again. “Thank you,�� he mouthed before heading for the door.  “I got what I needed. Let’s go,�� he tossed out over his shoulder.

Ignoring his brother, Bain handed me my robe. With a decided lack of grace, I snatched the fabric from my husband and covered up as quickly as possible. Bain reached out to touch my cheek, pausing when I flinched. 

“It’s okay.�� Bain leaned forward and kissed me gently, signaling all was well between us. As he raised his head, he told me softly, “I may be late tonight. They’re moving us to a new sector.��

I sat frozen and silent as my husband walked out the door. As the door closed behind him, I rushed into the bathroom–the only place where we weren’t monitored—and let the floodgates open. Sliding down the wall with my back to the door, I buried my face in my knees to muffle my sobs. God, what I wouldn’t give to have a time machine so that I could go back into the past and choose differently. 

Keep reading for Chapter 2. Thoughts on chapter 1?

Happy New Year, everyone!

As this new year begins, I'm taking a moment to reflect on the past year and set some intentions for the year ahead.

To be honest, I've been feeling a bit disconnected lately. I've spread myself thin, trying to be present on multiple social media platforms, constantly thinking of ways to promote my books, while juggling a million different projects. It's mentally exhausting!

This year, I'm making a conscious effort to focus on what's sustainable.

Social Media Detox: I'm saying goodbye to any social media accounts that I'm not actively using or enjoying. It's time to declutter my digital life and free up some mental space. What that means is no more Threads, bye-bye Instagram, and saying no to Blue Sky or whatever the newest and greatest platform is to try and find readers.

Less Hustle, More Flow: I'm going to dial back on the self-promotion and marketing. Instead of chasing every opportunity, I'm going to focus on creating high-quality work that resonates with my audience. I want to get back to the reason I started this journey: writing the types of books I want to read and have difficulty finding.

Prioritizing Passion: Writing is one of my passions. However, publishing (and all that it entails) is a different beast altogether. This year, I'm committing to spending more time writing and less time on thinking about:

how to get readers to purchase my books,

how to get my books in front of readers,

how much money I did or didn't make in book sales,

and all the things I need to be doing or not doing to grow my publishing business.

I'm going back to the days when writing books was simply a semi-profitable habit. Where I completed two-three books a year because I had all these characters in my head demanding for their story to be told. Not because of the pressure to produce to stay relevant in the romance world. My first step to accomplishing this will be to offer my next book for free.

But this isn't just about work. Life is short, and I want to make the most of it. I'm excited to explore new hobbies this year, such as gardening, and spend more time on DIY home improvement projects. I look forward to spending more time on personal healing (emotional and physical), spiritual growth, spending time with family, and simply enjoying the present moment.

I hope this year will be one of discovery, creativity, and joy. Thank you for your continued support. I can't wait to share my journey with you.

What are your intentions for the new year? I'd love to hear from you in the comments below.

It's finally finished. I can't tell you how long I've been playing with this book. Years, definitely. I'd pull it out, write a bit, and stick it back into my "later" file. The technical aspects of the book kept tripping me up.

I started off researching reasons women fail to orgasm. While informative, they didn't really stir my creative juices. It wasn't until I found and listened to the book, Sex Without Stress by Jessa Zimmerman, that my story gained traction.

Let's face it, in the majority of today's romances, the hero is the Don Juan of lovers. The sex is so good the heroine can't spread her legs quickly enough. Sounds crude but there you have it.

I'm not saying it's wrong. Like many others, I read romance for its fantasy aspects. Handsome hero? Check. Fantastic lover? Double check. Only has eyes for the heroine? But of course, otherwise, why am I reading it?

But what if being multi-orgasmic has gotten, dare I say, boring? What if sex in romances got a reality check? What if instead of being over the top, sex with the hero was nice, pleasant --like slipping into a hot bath at the end of a hard day --and you were fine with that until suddenly, you weren't?

This is the situation in which my heroine finds herself. It's not that she isn't happy with her love life. She's curious if there's more, but it's not a subject she wants to broach with her husband because, you know, fragile male egos and all of that. However, Grant finds out and now they both have to deal with the fallout.

There are no reviews yet, but I asked my beta readers what they thought of it. Here are a few of their comments:

"I was skeptical when I first started but as the book went on I got involved with the characters. I got mad, sad and overall glad by the end."

"I think it’s an ‘out of the box�� type of romance. It has the heat from a traditional romance but in a realistic way and covers a topic you don’t see often in this genre."

I enjoy reading about realistic characters. The fact this solid couple had and overcame a common struggle but rarely talked about may be encouraging to "real" couples out there with same issue.

Ignite Her Fire is available in English and German at your favorite retailers. Or you can win one of 20 copies via my ŷ������ Giveaway.

Merriam-Webster defines Niche as (2a) a place, employment, status, or activity for which a person or thing is best fitted or (2d) a specialized market. When it comes to niche romances, in layman's terms, it's an acknowledgement by The Powers That Be that while there is a market for these romances, it's a small minority. Publishing houses and distributors don't consider the mainstream market to be interested in such. So these books are tucked into their own little "niche" within the main category of romance, but visible only to those who search them out.

An author friend and I were discussing this issue as it relates to interracial romance and black romance readers. Black Americans are what economist calls super consumers, and romance readers are a voracious lot. Combine the two together and you'd think with rallying cries like "Representation Matters" that romance books written by black authors featuring black heroines would fly off the shelves. You'd be wrong.

When it comes to political and social power in this country, blacks have very little. However, when it comes to buying power, black Americans can make or break a product's success, if we can ever get on one accord. Unfortunately, this lack of unity is prominently displayed in the romance publishing market.

As stated, I mostly write interracial romances. For the purpose of this discussion, interracial romance is defined as romances where the female protagonist (or female main character) is black, or African-American, and her love interest is non-black, usually Caucasian, Latin, or Asian. One of the first rules of marketing is to know and find your target audience. This is where it gets dicey.

Black Love proponents: These are the readers who want black heroines but will not read the romance unless the hero is also black. In some cases, these readers go to the extreme of wanting all supporting characters to be black as well. BLPs will not read interracial romances and BLP authors have been known to look on IR authors with contempt.

Colorism: Colorism is prejudice or discrimination especially within a racial or ethnic group favoring people with lighter skin over those with darker skin. It's sad to say but colorism is alive and well. We see it in readers when it comes to cover art. Readers complain that there are two many light skinned, curly haired heroines on book covers. Or, when you use images of black females with a darker complexion, that the heroine is too dark. They complain of authors using food descriptions to describe the exact shade of brown of the character's skin, i.e. pecan tan. I'm trying to be factual about this without devolving into a rant, but it's difficult.

Blackness: What does it mean to be black? The answer is it depends on who you ask. Urban fiction readers say a heroine isn't "black enough" if there isn't an element of black trauma in the book. Black trauma is defined as the emotional impact of stress related to racism, racial discrimination, and race-related stressors, such as being affected by stereotypes, hurtful comments, or barriers to advancement. These can be what many blacks refer to as 'Hood books, which contain elements of a black character's struggle against poverty, racism, drugs, crime, etc., in order to succeed in life. Books that do not contain this element aren't considered black enough, i.e. the heroine is a middle-class professional woman raised in a middle class household in the suburbs. What's interesting is that many white romance readers assume all black authored romance novels contain black trauma. As a result, they won't buy and read them because not being black, they "can't relate."

White Savior syndrome: Look, as a longtime author I've seen it all. My novella, Uriah's Heart, is a story about a personal assistant turning in her two week's notice because she made the mistake of falling in love with her wealthy boss. She wants love, marriage, and children and thinks she'll never have it with him. It takes almost losing Maze for Uriah to realize he can't live without her. The things Uriah resorts to in an effort to convince my heroine that he's in love with her, I thought, was rather comical. Imagine my surprise when a reviewer commented that this was yet another "white savior" trope. Wikipedia defines white savior trope as a cinematic trope in which a white character rescues people of color from their plight. The white savior is portrayed as messianic and often learns something about themselves in the process of rescuing. I'm not sure how a man finally realizing he's in love with his assistant qualifies, but in this reader's mind it did.

Racial Conflict: This one is the one that troubles me the most. I encountered it with my first book, True Mates. My plus-sized heroine, Kiesha, is mixed race (black and white). The hero, Alex, is an alpha wolf-shifter who is white. I submitted and got accepted for publication by Loose Id, a small indie romance publisher no longer in business. I was shocked and troubled when the senior editor suggested I add racial conflict between my protagonists to the plot. The story's conflict was my human heroine struggling to accept that paranormal beings were real and that she was mated to one. Race was not a factor in this relationship. Differing species was. The editor meant well but she was white and this was a case of her unintended bias showing. She believed adding racial tension would make the book more marketable. I disagreed. Fortunately, she didn't press the issue and my debut novel was a success.

This is another stereotype that most white and some black readers expect in an interracial romance. If a white man and a black woman get together romantically, it must cause problems somewhere in their life with someone or it's not realistic. That's not exactly true. There are plenty interracial relationships where race isn't an issue. Just as there are plenty where it is. The point is that there are plenty sources of conflict in a plot without resorting to race. I rarely mention racial conflict in my books and never between my protagonists because I don't like reading it. If the issue of race does arise, it's because someone else has an issue with the two being together. It's a form of racism that I refuse to perpetuate.

Black authors aren't the only ones having a problem getting their books seen. LGTBQ romances are also considered niche. From discussions with these authors, they have many of the same issues that black interracial romance authors have. I won't go into details, but I will note that that they have the same issue we do with non-black authors flooding the interracial and LGBT categories with their non-interracial, non-LGBTQ romances in an effort to get a higher ranking on Amazon. As a result, it makes our books even more difficult to find.

So, you may be asking, how do I get my books seen? What marketing tricks and tools do I use? That is the million dollar question. I use the same tools and tricks as other authors, always keeping in mind that I probably won't get their results. Finding my target audience is key and the most difficult part of the equation. For instance, I post in Facebook groups that are created specifically for readers of interracial romances, but I also post in mainstream romance groups. I tag my Instagram posts as #interracial, but I also use the #romance or #romancerecommendations. I do the same with TikTok. I put my books in print and audiobook formats, even though my sales in those formats are low. I watch educational Youtube videos on marketing and advertising and attend online/virtual classes to educate myself.

The one thing I won't do is change what I write. I could switch and write traditional white romances and throw in the occasional black heroine. I won't do it. If writing interracial romance means I sell less books, so be it. I had to decide early in my publishing career what my motive for publishing will be. Is my primary purpose to make money, or is my primary purpose to write stories that satisfy my soul? I chose the later. Yes, I want to make money but it really comes down to this:

When the book doesn't sell the way I think it should have, will I continue?

When the author who doesn't write half as well as I do makes more money than me, will I continue?

When readers keep on scrolling simply because the author who wrote the book (me) is black, will I continue doing what I love?

I hope that the answer to these questions will always be yes.

In last week's blog, I confessed that I'm not the most business-savvy person. What saves me is that I'm an information hound, eager to learn, and don't mind admitting my ignorance or asking questions. One of my business goals is to make my website more profitable by selling ebooks and audibooks direct. At the very least, I'd like the website to earn enough to pay for itself.

With the debacle that was Spotify's big announcement and the changes it prompted (see last week's blog), business decisions I'd put on hold got pushed to the front of the line. I need to start pushing audiobooks in my website store.

Selling Audiobooks Direct: Author Side

When choosing my Wix site, I deliberately chose a design that would allow me to sell music albums and singles. Because audiobooks are mp3 files, selling one meant I was able to sell the other. I uploaded my audiobook files before uploading my ebooks to my store. I've had this website for over two years now and have yet to sell one audiobook. I prayed about it, and God gave me a few ideas.

Idea #1: Lower the prices of my audiobooks. I changed the prices to $5, $10, and $15 based on narration length.

Idea #2: Bundle the ebook with the audiobook in a BOGO for free deal. This was simple to do. I'd noticed when setting up the audiobook files that I had the option to add bonus content. Uploading the epub file to the mp3 files only took seconds.

Setting up the store was easy. The biggest problem was not knowing what happened when a reader purchased an audiobook. This information was critical because it determined whether my Wix store was sufficient for my needs or whether I'd have to pay additional money to use a site like BookFunnel. In addition, I needed to know in case my customers experienced issues. I had to have an answer to give them.

I'm already paying over $300 a year for my website and store. I didn't want to add an additional $120 a year for Bookfunnel. I also didn't want to load my audibooks to yet another site where I had no control. If possible, the best outcome was to make Wix work.

End User Experience - The Customer Side

First Issue: I tried to purchase an audiobook. Couldn't. I use PayPal with my website. PayPal wouldn't allow me to buy from myself. (Bummer!) I called my daughter, explained the problem, and asked her to buy one of my audiobooks. She did and sent screenshots of what the customer saw at each step.

The process was easy. She selected the audiobook, made payment, and within minutes received a payment notification with a download link. The download was a zip file which took a few minutes to download. My daughter has an Apple phone. She sent me the link so that I could do the same with my android phone.

Second Issue: The good news is that all of the files downloaded in the correct order. (A major concern of mine.) The bad news is that she couldn't figure out how to play the audiobook. Once she did, it only played once chapter at a time and wouldn't auto-advance. I speculated that it might be the media player she used.

Once my file downloaded to my phone, I had to find and extract it, and then figure out how to play it. Once extracted, playing it turned out to be easy. Samsung asked me which app I wanted to use to play it: Media Player, Amazon Music, or Spotify?

My first mistake was telling it to always use Amazon Music. Amazon couldn't find the file. To be honest, it could totally have been user error. I deleted the files from my phone and started again. This time I selected the music player app I'd installed. Other than repeating chapter one twice (no clue what that's about), it played just fine. It auto-advanced from one chapter to the next, just like my audiobooks do with Audible.

Final Analysis

Selling audibooks is possible with my website. Tech-challenged customers like me might have a few issues, but nothing that can't be overcome with a bit of patience. It remains to be seen if the new price structure will garner sales.

I'll confess. I don't like change. It's fine when I initiate it, but when it's forced on me...? Man, can my attitude stink. The month of February brought change after change. Changes I'm none too happy about.

Spotify

First, Spotify made their big announcement about the changes to their Terms and Conditions. Mind you, I'm not the most business-savvy person, but I'm smart enough to align myself with other authors and authorprenuers who are. When social media blew up with the news, I read all of the posts to get a good understanding of what the new terms meant. I didn't like them. Spotify quickly modified the new terms in what some are labeling a planned shock-and-switch type of ploy. (i.e. "Let's horrify them with an extreme rights grab and then roll out the terms we really want them to agree to.)

As stated, I didn't like the new terms and the modified terms didn't matter. Show me who you are as a company, and I'll pay attention. I decided to move my audiobooks from Findaway Voices/Spotify as an aggregator. Because I used ACX to create them, I still have audiobooks with Audible, who also distributes to Amazon and Apple. Findaway Voices/Spotify allowed me to distribute my audiobooks wide, which included libraries. However, they aren't the only option out there. They're simply the platform I learned about first.

Now I have to examine my options, decide on a new distributor to replace Spotify, and make that move. After reviewing my available options and praying about it, Author's Republic won my choice. Because they used to be a partner with Findaway Voices, they already have my audiobooks. What I don't know and have yet to receive an answer on is if I need to reupload my audiobooks to them. I have notified Spotify that I do not agree to the new terms--the deadline was 3/15/24--and as soon as my last royalties pay out, they've been instructed to close my account.

Kindle Vella

Spotify wasn't the only company who made changes to how they do business. Amazon also changed the bonus structure and how the in-app purchases works for readers in a one-two knock out punched that killed any desire I have to be a part Kindle Vella. I knew the bonuses wouldn't last forever. It's why I pulled the one completed book I had on Vella and had them unpublish the book I had in progress in 2023. However, because hope springs eternal and I have a bucket-list cruise I needed to pay for, in January I decided to give it another try. Fortunately, I only had 4 episodes of the new story uploaded when the new terms were announced.

To be honest, in terms of royalties, Kindle Vella was never worth the amount of work it took as an author to draw readers to the platform. Most of my readers prefer the full book vs. the one episode at time model. They also complained that it was less expensive to purchase the entire book once published than reading it via Vella. A sentiment I share. I've never purchased Vella credits, despite having a credit balance of over 900 tokens that Amazon gave me for free. I also don't like the episodic model of reading. When I sit to read, I want the entire book. Actually, I want the whole series so I can binge if it's a series I'm reading.

With little expectation of the bonuses that prompted me to give Vella a try and the new reading structure, it was a no brainer to contact Amazon and have them unpublish my book. What surprised me is that they did it immediately. Before, they made me wait 90 days. I was later told by another author that whenever a company changes their terms, they have to allow authors so much time to immediately opt out.

I can only guess at the amount of authors who did the same. Some will hang in there and change their books to try and make the new model profitable. Others won't pay attention to what's going on in the publishing world around them and only take note when Amazon bleeds them dry. It's a business decision each author has to decide for themselves.

Final Thoughts

Needless to say, with all of this going on, writing hasn't actually been a priority. Maybe it's a blessing in disguise that I don't have the added stress of trying to push out new episodes every week on my new writing project. What sucks is that not having Vella killed some of the impetus had to write consistently. Hopefully once I adjust to the time change and get over the spring fever that has me wanting to DIY remodel my entire house, I'll get back to writing on a daily basis.

I placed my thumb on the panel and stood still while the scanner read my face. The locks disengaged, and I opened the door. The single-floor apartment was a two-bedroom, two-bathroom condo. The front door opened into the combination living room, dining room, and kitchen. The whole thing sounded much larger than it was. When the four of us were home, the space felt crowded. Fortunately, we all worked different schedules and were rarely home at the same time.