I wasn't happy about it. I'm in the middle of a major book promotion. I had better things to do. Calvin hovered over me until I called the doctor. Do you know when you hit your mid-sixties and call with chest pains, you get worked in right away? I barely had time to shower and I think my bra was wrong side out as he rushed me out the door.
Dr. Blue Eyes, as I secretly call him, slid his stool over and took my hand. "How's the book writing coming?" And to my utter embarrassment, I started to cry. I don't mean a few tears trickling down my cheeks; I'm talking major sobs so bad I could barely talk. Bless his handsome heart, he moved to sit beside me on the examination table and put his arm around my shoulders....and listened....and held the box of kleen-x in front of me as I bawled like a lunatic.
Can we spell humiliated?
What did I have to cry about?
Last Monday, the USA Today ran an article on why I wrote about bear shifters.
Tuesday, A HIGHLANDER'S OBSESSION was released and I had a twelve-hour facebook party. We had a blast!
For the next twenty-eight hours, my book trended at #1 on Barnes and Noble. Heck, I didn't even know a book could trend until my editor at Random House emailed me. Talk about a "duh" moment.
My numbers at both Amazon and B&N were good for me--not for a major author, now--but for this ole gal, they were great. I was thrilled. On Thursday, I found out "The Library Journal" reviewed the book and gave it very favorable marks.
And the majority of the reviews for my first paranormal were good too. I was in high cotton, as we say here in the South.
You know how if you're having a particularly rotten week and you growl through gritted teeth, "If one more thing goes wrong, I'll scream"? Turns out the same overwhelming emotion can happen with too much good too. After a very thorough examination, I was told my ailments were coming from good stress.
Leave it to me to get chest pains and other minor ailments from "too much good." I always was a weird duck.