Okay, guys, I have been sitting on this for the past month, waiting anxiously to share the cover of the next (and anticipated!) book release in The Butterfly Memoirs series, Jaded. Now it’s time!
If you’ve read any of my past blogs, you know how I feel about book covers. They can do many things; depict the characters in the story, show a scene from the book, or incite emotion and curiosity for what lies beneath the covers (or pixels depending on what format you prefer).
I love symbolism. It makes you think, gets your mind wondering. It stimulates your imagination and makes you curious to see if your own ideas match the story.
I received a lot of wonderful feedback about the cover for A Heart Not Easily Broken. There were a lot of readers who loved the fact there were no people caught up in the throes of passion, while others appreciated discovering the characters without having an idea of what lay within until reading the reviews.
Well, guess what? I’m doing it again!
Ladies and Gentlemen, the cover for Jaded…..
A devastating breakup leaves Yasmine Phillips in shambles. Unable to trust another man with her heart, she focuses on the one thing she can control—starting her own business.
When her computer crashes, taking months of hard work with it, she must rely on computer genius Zachariah Givens to save her. A complete opposite of men from her past, she doesn’t expect the passion that ensues. But just as she finds happiness, she learns the truth about the other women in Zachariah’s life.
In the next few weeks I’ll start sharing Jaded in my #SampleSunday post. There will also be ‘conversational’ post based on the topics addressed in the book. Stay tuned to learn more about Yasmine Phillips! If you don’t know who she is or what events led to her story, grab a copy of A Heart Not Easily Broken, Book one of The Butterfly Memoirs and you’ll find out! For now, enjoy this brief look into Yasmine’s Diary:
They call me, Slut, ‘ho, easy… and a few other words that I refuse to even write on paper.
Since middle school, people have taken one look at my light skin, grey eyes, and the shape of my body and assumed that’s who I was.
The first three letters of the word described them. How dare they judge me? Nobody is perfect.
It has never mattered what I’ve done in my life. Being the daughter of a bi-racial marriage has always haunted me. With my fusion of graceful features I’d inherited from my white mother, the slender nose, cat-like eyes, vibrant smile, -and the take-no-shit attitude of my black father, people didn’t know how to deal with me.
Guys in school wanted to date me as if I were a trophy. Girls hated the color of my eyes and the texture of my hair.
Things got worse as I got older. Why? Because I love my body and I love sex.
But I never used either to earn money or favors from any man. I am a confident, educated woman who goes for what I want, regardless of what anyone around me has to say. If that means I want a good lay every now and then, I’m damn well entitled to it. But one thing I’d never be is a home wrecker.
My philosophy on love and relationships is simple, sex isn’t love, but it’s nice while you’re waiting.
Well, that’s what I used to think before the man I fell in love with trampled all over my heart.
And raped my best friend.
Love will never happen for me. No man will ever understand me. The real me.
Not my parents, not my brother, not even my best friends.
My life, my experiences – both good and bad – are what define the real me.