Going Free

To Be Free or Not to Be Free? That is the question. What is the answer?

I see it all the time. Lots of books going free every day. I can see how it can help sales, but aside from Carina Press making Dangerous Race free with the release of Living Dangerously (Adrenaline Highs #4), I've never had any other books go free.

Until now.

Yep. I'm happy to announce that for 3 days this week, A Little Danger will be free for the first time. This was one of my favorite stories to write since the main characters have both worked hard to get to a place in life where very little scares them.... With the exception of their feelings for each other.

Okay, more on them later.

What I'd like to know is your feelings on going free. The general consensus seems to be that free works. I have to admit, sometimes I wonder about it though. In a perfect world, everyone downloads the book and falls in love with the storytelling then decides to buy all the other books in the series or all the backlist. I know I've certainly done it. But I wonder if there's a saturation point with free? That the more free books out there, the less people will buy. (Horrors)

And of course there are many authors with "perma-free" first books in a series. Maybe one day I'll get a point where I can do that, but I'm not there yet. One day, I hope to have so many books that it won't matter if I give away the first one in a series on a permanent basis, but right now I can't really wrap my brain around it.

What do you think? Does "free" work in the long run?

Here's the cover (one of my favorites) and the blurb for my upcoming freebie, A Little Danger:

Some killers never die.

Elena Fraser is on her way to the airport to catch a flight to New York for the premiere of her daughter’s movie. Before limo driver Bill “Fido” Fidelo can make it to the freeway, a 7.1 earthquake collapses the overpass above and traps them. With nothing but time between frightening temblors, Elena and Bill learn more about each other, including the fact they’ve lusted after each other for years.

Understanding they might not survive, Elena and Bill look to one another for solace and companionship. Bill tries to convince Elena that their seven-year age difference means nothing to him, and Elena soon realizes that life is too short to put off living.

The passion they discover is enough to torch the limo they’re trapped in, but can rescuers save them in time, or will a final aftershock bury them before they have a chance to build a life together? 

****

I loved Elena and Bill. They were so cute together even during a horrific natural disaster. Since I don't have a link ready today, you can click on this: A Little Danger  and find all the places the book is free. Grab one for yourself anytime between Wednesday, July 27 - 29. And happy reading!

Dee J.

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MY INVITATION'S LOST IN THE POST ...

So how on earth did I get the poisoned chalice of today's blog post? When the eyes of most of Britain - and, I may say, the world - are on an event as far removed from Clare London blogging as the sun from the earth? :)

I've spent the morning at a friend's, watching The Royal Wedding, and searching my rather weary brain for a connection with the NYUS blog. And ... failing. So, if you'll excuse a rather scribbled moment after a jug of Pimms - here's some mystery fiction instead!

***

I crossed the darkened room on bare feet and leaned against the closed door, listening with fierce concentration, my sharp hearing on alert. There were no sounds from the corridor outside. I blinked in the darkness, but nothing was out of place: no movement, no answering breath, no cry of alarm. Excellent. I was alone in the room, just as I had been when I slid the window open and climbed in from the garden.

A special day, they’d said. Yes, indeed. The happy couple would get what they deserved today, and I’d be the one to deliver it.

Who was there to stop me?

I bent on supple knees, the dark fabric of my clothing stretching over my muscles, then moved across the room in a crouch. My gloved hands moved swiftly across the furniture, feeling my way. The geography of the room was just as I’d anticipated. The package at my side hung awkwardly, pressing into my thigh. Slipping a hand down, I patted it back into place. There must be no noise; no warning given.

Just what they deserved.

Maybe just one more touch? My mouth went dry at the promise. After all, I couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong now. They would be back from the church any time now, and I … I wanted things to be ready for them. Preparation was everything.

I’d been waiting for this moment for a long time.

Pausing, balanced on my knees and heels, I grasped the thick, velvet cloth in my pocket and drew out my burden. My heartbeat quickened. Biting my lip to hold back a moan of satisfaction, I ran a tentative finger along the sharp edge inside.

And then the lights snapped on.

Blinking with shock, I jumped to my feet. The door had slammed open, a large, solid shape silhouetted in the frame. For a second’s flash, I couldn’t focus, yet knew it was a human shape. How many were there? Just one? A whole team? Three running steps would take me back to the window and escape.

“Stay there,” said a strong voice. “It’s all over now.” The shadow broke away from the doorway and started walking towards me. A man in uniform. A large man. The voice was low and harsh. “I told you to wait with the others, didn’t I?”

“You can’t stop me. This is for them.” I gripped my precious parcel.

The man shook his head slowly, almost sadly, still walking forward. There were mere feet between us now. “Now come along quietly. You know it’s for the best, don’t you?”

No. I shook my head too, but angrily: with frustration.

“Give that to me,” the man said. His voice was kinder now.

With a sob in my throat, I held out the parcel. I watched the other man take hold of it. For one brief moment, I wouldn’t let go. “It’s what I planned for. What I must do.”

The man nodded, almost sympathetically. “Of course.” The parcel had changed hands. I was bereft. I stood  in the room, disarmed, thwarted.

“Look around,” the man said. “You see?”

I looked around slowly, expecting a trick, dreading the truth. The room was opulently furnished, every surface covered with greetings cards of all shapes and sizes. Over the fireplace was a large banner proclaiming “Congratulations to the happy couple”. And on a large dining table at the far side of the room was a pile of sumptuously wrapped gifts.

“I’ve checked them all in,” the man said. “It’s my job, as steward of the Royal Household.” He shook his head again and gestured with my parcel. “And there are twenty five of these already.”

“Twenty five?” Surely not. Surely my dreams were unique, my promises treasured…

The man took my arm, guiding me firmly but carefully towards the exit. “Send them a gift voucher instead, why don’t you?”

“No –”

“Yes,” he said, with a sigh that spoke of a very long day, and the aftermath of a stream of challenging well-wishers at the doors of Clarence House. “Because you can have too many kitchen knife sets.”

Everyday Mysteries

Have you ever thought about the mysteries in your everyday life? We all have some mysteries and I think we suspense authors should be better at solving them than your average Joe.

Being the mother of a teenage daughter, my life is filled with mysteries. Like what happened to half my teaspoons and where did that green spot on the bathroom rug come from?

As I build suspense plots in my book, I find myself becoming more adept at figuring out our household who-done-its. My husband was amazed a few months ago when I tracked a missing bag of candy the day before Halloween. Despite her numerous denials, my daughter was guilty of pilfering said candy and eating it with two of her friends—the usual suspects.

I knew she’d hide the evidence well because she probably had an inkling I’d check out her room the first chance I got. My strategy? Get into her head, think like a teenager. She wouldn’t be foolish enough to leave candy wrappers in her trashcan—way too easy. If I were in her shoes, I’d leave the evidence where I could easily take it out of the house at my first opportunity. This led me to her school backpack. Voila!

When constructing the suspense plot for a book, I’d have to be much more stealthy than she. But frankly, I’m relieved she didn’t outthink me.

Now, if I could only figure out whose peanut butter fingerprints those are on the cabinet door and who left the bathroom without replacing the toilet paper roll. And who hit my mailbox and knocked it over? Give me time and I will.

What everyday mysteries drive you crazy?

Please check out my brand new release from Ellora's Cave, Blackout and my new FREE read, The After Party.