Does ChatGPT Spell Doom for Writers?

Look around at the world and notice not what is there…but who is missing. No longer will you see a man on stilts at twilight, meticulously lighting gas lamps up and down the street. You won't find a friendly milkman making deliveries. And the men wearing the long beaks who scooped up plague-ridden bodies were out of work in the 1400s. Innovation and technology always usher in new changes. But when something new begins, something else ends. And when it comes to ChatGPT, is this the end of human writing as we know it?

The Ultimate Ghostwriter

So what is ChatGPT? Depending on who is answering, this is a fascinating new innovation full of possibilities...or a demon invention summoned from the blackest pits of Hell. ChatGPT is actually an AI writing tool that can, for all intents and purposes, write anything. Articles, screenplays, entire novels even. You plug in some basic elements of what you want and the darn thing generates humanlike writing that can be difficult to tell from actual human-created content.

And if learning about ChatGPT gives you a strange sinking feeling and you feel the darkness of despair creeping ever closer to you, then you are probably a writer. You might even find yourself wondering if you're about to join the ranks of the now-useless, like those plague guys or the old gas lamp lighters.

Are Human Writers Obsolete?

The recent writer's strike largely involved ChatGPT and concerns about how this tech will be used moving forward, though many of the headlines focused on pay disputes and other issues surrounding the strike.

Writers on all levels have reason to be curious and cautious about this tech. For the first time in human history, a machine can write dialogue and plot and actually tell a story. So you might feel a lot like the gas lamp guy the day the light bulb was invented.

And yes, it is a little bit scary. AI writing software is sophisticated enough to understand grammar and syntax and even slang. It can churn out entire novels with extreme quickness and write words much faster than any human ever could.

But don't throw out your old plague mask yet, so to speak. Because for all their sophistication, there is something that machines and tech can never do: create ideas. 

You can teach a computer how to write like a human and play chess like a human and answer questions like a human would. You cannot teach a computer how to actually be creative. Computers can study all of literature and can even create stories that are similar to stores created before. But a computer will never truly come up with a creative idea for one very good reason.

Only humans can do that. Only humans can invent. No computer program can really be taught how to do that. And as long as that continues to be the case, human writers are still needed.

Get My Newest Book!

My new book is coming out next week! If you've ready my writing 101 tips, you will love my newest book. 

How to Write a Book

How to Write a Book is the first volume in my Write Better Write Now series. This book has all the tips and info writers need to know to write a book. The chapters cover crafting characters, writing believable settings, performing research and making all the decisions that indie authors have to make, not to mention all the controversial topics that are difficult to write about like race, profanity, sex and more.

Guest Post: Writing Inspiration

 Today, Jade's blog is pleased to welcome author U.L. Harper!

To this day I get asked about my inspiration. Where do I get my ideas from? I think I’m inspired by what everybody is inspired by.

Being Inspired

For the longest time I thought I was inspired by Kurt Vonnegut. Damned proud of it too. Cat’s Cradle is a classic in my book, and Slaughterhouse Five opened my eyes to the world, even if I never read the first four (just kidding). It impressed me and still does.

After reading Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club, I was sure that it was the prototype for every first-person present-tense novel. Violent, honest, sardonic, moving, and funny with a twist, not to mention short and at a third grade level. I figured I was influenced by Chuck, and proud of it.

And then there was Clive Barker and his Weaveworld, Imajica, Great and Secret Show novels. Works to live by. I’m not even going to bring up Hellraiser because that’s opening a box I don’t have time to explore right now. When I was reading him, I figured Barker was an influence too. His language, his special kind of action violence… Yep. Clive was my guy, and proud of it.

They were just a few of my influences, until I started actually writing novels.

Once I started writing, I didn’t see Kurt Vonnegut’s wit or timing or poignant yet lighthearted storylines coming out of me. I had none of Barker’s eloquence, and I had no idea how to present a horror or fantasy idea. Not at all, well, until recently.

This is what I found: I’m influenced by the people around me. I’m influenced by the life surrounding me. I liked Fight Club for its coverage of social issues for young men. A book for dudes my age at the time. I was twenty something when it came out. Don’t do the math. I’m not afraid to say I’m twenty-one again in December. It’s the same reason I loved Cat’s Cradle so much, as well as Slaughterhouse Five. They weren’t influencing me; they were what I needed at the time. Yes, a map. A guide, but my writing has almost nothing related. They’re part of me but not necessarily as a writer.

Let me put it a different way. It’s imperative for everyone out there to know that ideas aren’t made in a vacuum. Authors don’t sit in a room writing down ideas not knowing where these ideas come from. The ideas, the inspiration is close to us. Or, at least they’re close to me. I’ll just speak for myself, I guess.

Here’s an example of a story idea. Took my whole life to come up with:

When I was a kid, in return for a house, my parents took on the responsibility of taking care of my great grandmother who had Alzheimer’s. The experience rocked me. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why she was urinating in the closet and flinging it out into the kitchen. It felt odd to have her eating dinner after we ate. I just couldn’t quite handle the idea, but it stuck with me. My mom later told me that my great grandmother believed she was a young child in Kansas and that she basically had no idea who we were.

Now hold that idea. Jump forward about eighteen years when I get a phone call right before work telling me that my grandfather had died. You know, in my first novel, I mixed my grandfather, in his post-stroke wheelchair and pot belly with my Alzheimer stricken grandmother and there you had my influence for my main character in The Flesh Statue. Not the protagonist, for those keeping track, but the main character.

Years later, having the environment on my mind a little bit I came up with another bright idea.

For my novels In Blackness and its sequel In Blackness: The Reinvention of Man, for influence, I found myself looking out at the world and asking the question that everyone asks at some point: Why are we not food? I’m going to tell you right now that that’s how horror novels start. No vampires, no werewolves, no demons, but still, why are we not food? Then I found the answer.

The point is, the world around me has always been a huge influence. Why do people react to certain things? What’s the history on why they reacted to it? What’s their background? The authors I love so much? Well, I still dig them, and they have a place, but that place is for entertainment value. What gets me going is the same thing that gets people up for work every morning. I get my ideas from the same place kids do when they say uncontrollable wacky things. I’m inspired by the same thing that inspires probably every artist.

I’m inspired by the world around me. Yes, the whole thing.

Keep reading for an excerpt of In Blackness: The Reinvention of Man by U. L. Harper

Lenny sipped from a cup of coffee at his booth. The Best Little Road House, a diner in Salem, Oregon, was warm, dry and safe. Most of the tables were filled, with only a few waitresses helping serve everyone.

All these people eating and ordering food as if nothing was wrong. Like The Visit never happened. He couldn’t begin to forget, couldn’t shake the moment when dozens of people were beheaded and skinned right in front of him. Sometimes when he closed his eyes he’d helplessly replay the event in his head.

Because of the experience during the invasion four weeks ago, Lenny had been fueled by fear. The aliens that slaughtered so many had subsequently given him the mission of bringing people who had been given implants like him back to San Pedro.

His stomach muscles tightened. This happened for one specific reason—his implant affected him physically when another person with one was near. The other person didn’t necessarily know they had an implant. It took him his entire life to find out that he had one. He had followed the signal into the diner. Hopefully whomever he followed, they would become obvious.

 At the beginning of his journey he wondered how long his trip to find subjects for the aliens would be. How far would he have to go? Realistically, his small amount of money would dictate the length of his travels. All of his savings from his pizza delivery job was spent on meals, motel rooms and gasoline.

A girl about eighteen, his age, exited the restroom. She had on hiking boots and an oversized backpack. Her partial dreadlocks fell over her shoulders. Heading his direction down the aisle, she stopped next to him and made eye contact before taking a seat at the booth next to his. Leaning forward, she wriggled her arms out of the backpack straps. The look she gave him made him self-conscious. Did he look as dirty as he felt? He didn’t normally grow a lot of facial hair but when he did let it grow, like he did now, it grew in patches of peach fuzz.

“Are you okay?” he said to her.

She showed him a weak smile. “Just need to sit. Looking for a ride.”

 

“To San Pedro?”

Her eyes lit up. “That’s a hell of a guess. How would you guess something like that?”

She was definitely the one. “Crazy you come sit right next to me. Go figure.”

“Yeah, go do that. You’re heading to San Pedro too?”

“About to split town.”

“Then I’m Celeste. I can get a lift, yeah? I travel light.”

“You just have that?” He nodded to her backpack.

She picked up the bag with one hand and then let it drop. "Jesus, a ride would be nice. Where are you from?"

“Washington, actually.”

“Where in Washington? I’m from there.” The pitch of her voice became high when she mentioned Washington. Her bad grooming led him to believe she had been traveling for a while.

Celeste moved across the aisle to his booth, leaving her backpack in the aisle. “You seem all right."

"I pass the murderer test?"

"I mean you seem all right." She leaned forward and whispered, “I haven’t eaten all day. Can I drink some of your water?”

“Have at it.”

She drank down half the glass. “So what part of Washington are you from?”

“Lowery, originally. Small little place, right…”

“I know Lowery. My dad was born there.”

“Lowery doesn’t have a hospital,” he said. “Nobody’s actually born there.”

“Delivered in the kitchen, I shit you not.” Although she seemed embarrassed by the fact, she chuckled.

“Well damn. I was there up until I was nine or something. Maybe ten.”

She finished off his glass of water. “I need to get there.”

“Need to? To San Pedro?”

“I guess need is a bit heavy but, yeah, whatever. I need to.”

“Did you hear what happened there during the invasion? You wouldn’t want to go there if you knew about it.”

“It didn’t only happen in San Pedro. Plenty of people suffered.”

“Did you lose anybody?” he said.

 “Everybody.”

“A lot of people lost everybody.”

“I’m one of them,” she said. “You lose everybody too or is this your idea of small talk?”

“I’m just saying why San Pedro? I didn’t mean to be insensitive. Still, San Pedro?” She didn’t know she was going there to have a meet and greet with the aliens and probably be killed. He’d help her get there, nonetheless. It didn’t feel right but he had to do it.

“Why are you going?” she said.

“Family.”

She gazed at the ceiling and then looked around, avoiding eye contact. “Just a feeling I have. I can picture myself there. You know?”

He leaned back in his seat. If she knew him better she’d know that guilt had taken him by surprise.

“Let’s get you something to eat,” he said. “A sandwich?”

“You’re offering?”

“Only this time.”

“Ham and turkey. I’m vegetarian but fuck that I’m hungry.”

“I’m Lenny. Good to meet you, Celeste.”

“Thank God I met you, Lenny. Thank goodness for rides. Lucky.”

“I wouldn’t use that word luck too loosely.”

She unzipped the big pocket on her backpack, looked inside it and then zipped it back. Then she unzipped a smaller pocket, looked inside and closed it, too.

He knocked twice on the wood table. “You have gas money?”

“I thought you were already going there.”

“It’s still gas, right?”

A waitress stopped at their table and asked to take their order.

Moments later a turkey and ham sandwich with mustard and mayonnaise oozing from the sides of it was set on the table.

With her mouth full of sandwich, Celeste looked like a rodent storing nuts in her cheeks.

She spoke a garbled, “Thank you. Starving.”

This might have been what it was like feeding the homeless on skid row.

Once she finished her sandwich they prepared to leave.

Outside, his four-door hatchback waited for them in the wet parking lot.

Celeste tossed her backpack in the back seat as he started the engine.

“Here we go,” he said.

***

He hid his dread of being inside the motel room from Celeste. For the time being, he had a hard time in the dark, in enclosed places. He couldn’t keep his hands from shaking, thinking of his experience during The Visit. If he could make it all the way back to San Pedro without sleeping he would. Since that wasn’t the case they had stopped for rest. No way would he let her drive his car. She seemed cool but why trust her?

She drifted to sleep, leaving him alone on the end of the bed to stare at silent news clips on television. One of the clips enticed him to turn up the volume. In the clip, the alien ship slowly fell through high puffy clouds and blocked out the sun. Daunting in scope, the ship had spanned from San Pedro to Washington. The sight of it would be talked about for generations and then some. His biggest fear was right there on the screen.

“Have you seen that before?”

He hadn’t realized she was awake. “Oh, no. Never seen that. Don’t know why. I guess in the few weeks since it happened I haven’t stopped to really… Wow.” The television showed another visual similar to the one he had looked at seconds ago. This time the amateur video caught news helicopters flying far underneath the ship, really nowhere close to it. During the time the footage was taken, he and Saline were in Lowery, Washington, being captured and shipped to San Pedro. On the news is what the general public had seen. What the living public didn’t see were the aliens. Basically everyone who had seen them had been murdered in the slaughters.

Looking at the screen she said, “Does this feel like the end of the world to you?”

“I think it’s the start of something.”

“So it’s the beginning, not the end?”

“My thought is that nothing can go back to how it was. Not completely. I don’t think so.” Then he lied down, accepting the consequences of closing his eyes.

"You don’t think the worst happened?”

“I saw people getting their heads chopped off. We were in a room with people getting skinned. Just… Crazy like you don’t want to know or see.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to picture it.”

“I’ve never heard… How’d you get out? You escaped?”

“Just thinking about it screws me up.” He held his right hand out for her to observe its shaking.

“I’m sorry.”

It was nice showing someone how much of a basket case he had become. It felt like confession. All this despite the fact that she’d be dead soon.

Someone knocked on the door.

He dragged his feet over to it and stuck his eye to the peephole. A woman in her early to mid-forties was smiling at him. She waved, and then knocked again, in her jeans and black hooded sweater.

He unlatched the lock and cracked the door open.

The woman kicked the door into him, smashing him in the forehead so hard that he saw stars. He fell to the floor grabbing his face with both hands. The intruder slipped past him.

With his face to the dusty carpet he heard two gunshots and then the thud of what he thought was Celeste hitting the floor. He looked up at a handgun aimed at his skull. With the gun at his head, cowardice took over. “They made me do it.”

“Wha...” The woman gazed at him in disgust and slightly confused.

She still had the gun pointed at his head but he figured second thoughts about harming him had entered her mind.

He turned his head and got a glimpse of Celeste’s motionless ankles and legs. Breathing heavy, he turned his attention back to the gun aimed at him.

“Who made you do what?”

“The aliens. They made me get her.” He hoped on everything he loved that she respected the notion.

After some consideration the woman lifted her weapon and smacked him over the head with it. She hit him again with a fist to the cranium, and then kicked him in the stomach. Still catching his breath, he coughed as she ran out the door.

Curled in a ball and in tears he let the initial pain run its course. Attempting to push himself to his feet, he placed both hands on the floor, groaning.

The woman rushed back into the room. “We’re pulling that implant out of you.”

“Wait! Wait!”

She shut the door behind her. “Yell again and I kill you.”

About the Author

U.L. Harper is an author from Long Beach, California. A former newspaper writer and poet, he published his first novel, The Flesh Statue in 2005. His hobbies include, skateboarding, basketball and the occasional glass of bourbon. Yes, bourbon as a hobby. 

You can reach him at ulharper1@gmail.com. His latest novels are In Blackness and its sequel In Blackness: The Reinvention of Man. You can reach him on twitter @ulharper

Authors Unite Against a Common Foe: Amazon

A number of authors are coming together to create Authors United, a group who wants Amazon to ends its war with Hachette. Their demand? Amazon will continue giving them standard royalty payments for their Hachette titles, and Amazon will go back to stocking Hachette titles on their website. The requests seem reasonable...and yet this war has been going on for weeks. Where do you stand on the battle lines? 

To the Mattresses

Around 1,000 authors have already signed one petition against Amazon. So far, however, attempts to get Amazon to the negotiating table have failed. The letter that Authors United sent to Amazon will be published in the New York Times in a matter of days.

Signers of the letter include Stephen King, John Grisham, James Patterson and David Baldacci. Many of these well-known authors have already donated money to the group for advertising and other purposes.

However, there are authors on the other side of the war. A petition on Change.org, essentially a letter to Hachette, has more than 7,000 author signatures on it.

Do Exclusive Deals with Amazon Ultimately Hurt Indies?

Amazon recently unveiled yet another program designed for indie authors, and if you use Amazon services you've probably already been treated to the email blast. Kindle Unlimited is a book-sharing program that gives readers a database of books to read. It all sounds great...until you learn that, like Amazon's KDP program, it requires exclusivity. 

Going Steady

Amazon wants you to be their steady significant other...for ever. Authors who participate in Kindle Unlimited must be members of KDP Select, Amazon's exclusive program for indie authors. The authors who use KDP Select cannot sell their books on any other website, such as Barnes & Noble and Smashwords. 

One could argue that Amazon sells more ebooks than all those other websites anyway. One could also argue that Amazon has provided all the platform and marketing opportunity for self-published authors, and they clearly support indies. What about CreateSpace? 

There is a good reason that Amazon sells more ebooks than anyone else: stunts like this Kindle Unlimited arrangement.

Indie News: Self-Published Author Nabs Real Job, Sparks Controversy

Pat McCrory, the Governor of North Carolina, has named a self-published poet as the poet laureate for the state. This immediately created a firestorm of controversy...though not for all the wrong reasons, at least.

Is North Carolina's Governor More Progressive Than You?

Valerie Macon has been appointed the poet laureate of the state of North Carolina, and the state's Governor is in hot water over it. 

Usually, this type of appointment involves a ton of red tape. There are submissions and an application process, letters of recommendation. And of course, a full review by the North Carolina Arts Council. Gov. McCrory decided to bypass all of that, however, and appointed Macon on his own.

Indie News: Money Talks in Self-Publishing

Public opinion isn't wholly on your side yet if you're an indie author, but the tide is slowly turning in our favor...because money talks. More and more indie authors are making 6- and 7-figure paydays from their self-published efforts. That makes it much harder for others to scoff at the idea of indie authors.

The Upper Hand

Numbers don't lie, and some of them show what's really happening in the book industry. Some self-published authors are now earning more than authors who have taken a more traditional publishing route. 

Forget DRM, and Give Yourself a Better Chance

Self-published books are beginning to rise to dominance in ebook sales. Authors published through the Big 5 companies make up only 16 percent of the titles on Amazon's bestseller list. Self-published books have a 25 percent chunk of the list.

How DRM Hurts

eBooks that are self-published on Amazon get 31 percent of daily sales across all book genres. Indie authors as a group have the biggest market share. But the authors that are making the biggest bucks aren't using DRM.

Self-Published Books: Getter Bigger Than the Big 5?

Data from AuthorEarnings.com shows that self-published book titles make up 31 percent of Amazon Kindle's book sales, and that's a lot. In fact, it suggests that indie authors are growing as powerful as the Big 5. This is the moniker given to the country's 5 biggest publishing companies, the old guard who for so long dictated popular literature in the United States. Those days might be over. 

Mr. Big Stuff

The "Big 5" publishing companies can lay claim to just 38 percent of Kindle book sales. Not only are self-published books taking up a piece of the market that's almost as big, self-published authors get bigger royalties than their traditionally-published counterparts. According to AuthorEarnings, self-published authors earn almost 40 percent of all ebook royalties paid out by Amazon.

Guest Post: Cost-Cutting Editing

by Leti Del Mar

Everything I have ever come across in regard to self-publishing says I should get my work edited.  Even those who don't self-publish are still urged to have their manuscript edited before submitting it to agents or publishers.  It makes sense to have your work edited, but it can also be incredibly expensive. I asked around for someone to edit my 82,000 word manuscript and the price range was $500 to $1,500!  ...And that was people just getting started in the business, not those who come highly recommended.

What if you're just starting out and uncomfortable with spending that much money on editing?  What is an aspiring writer to do?  Fortunately, I've got some cost-cutting suggestions!

When it comes to editing for content, you absolutely need another pair of eyes looking over your work.  A free way to do this is to ask a beta reader to read your book.  A beta reader is someone who will read your work and then give you their opinion. It is a good idea to have some questions in mind you want to ask about plot, characters and setting. A good beta reader will give you his or her general ideas and point out inconsistencies or troubled areas.  I've had great success connecting with beta readers on message boards. Try Goodreads groups, World Literary Cafe and the Kindle boards.

• Sway students. If you want a more personal touch and are willing to shell out some cash, try your local college or University. It is amazing what $50 will buy you. Post a notice asking for English students to critique your work.
• Swap edits. Use those message boards to find other authors willing to swap edits. Ask for a thorough edit and have them consider grammar, spelling and punctuation.
• Swap services. Are you handy with graphic design? Swap a cover design for an edit with another author. Are you super duper organized and have contacts with book bloggers?  Perhaps you could swap organizing a blog tour in exchange for an edit.  Hit those message boards and advertise what you can do in exchange for a good manuscript edit.

There are also some great websites out there to help you edit your work.  Grammar Girl answers all sorts of grammatical questions for free. Auto Crit will assess your work and search for things like overused words, spelling mistakes and some grammar issues. You can try it for free, but their packages start at about $50 a year. I love Grammarly! It does a wonderfully thorough job of searching your work for all kinds of grammatical mistakes.  Again, you can try it for free. Ttheir packages start at around $20 a month.

Are these options as good as hiring a professional editor? No.  However, if you are just starting out or if your books have not sold enough that you can justify investing $1500, these suggestions will help you put together a more professional product -- whether you are self-publishing or submitting to agents and publishers.

Want more cost-cutting advice? Check out my book, How To Self-Publish: A DIY Approach. It is available on Amazon for just $0.99.

About the Author

Bio: Leti Del Mar lives in sunny Southern California with her husband, daughter and abnormally large cat. When she isn’t writing, reading or blogging, she is teaching Biology and Algebra to teenagers. Leti is also a classic film buff, passionate about Art History and loves to travel.

 Leti's blog    Amazon    Goodreads     Facebook   Twitter

This book is for anyone who has ever considered publishing their own work but has either thought the process seemed too complicated or too expensive. My newest book will hold your hand as it guides your manuscript from your word processor to a formatted e-book and paperback. It will show you how to launch and market your book, get reviews, and use social media to establish an author platform. I promise to show you how this can all be accomplished for less than you would spend on a week's worth of lattes!

My Do-It-Yourself Approach is full of useful advice and practical tips any author new to the world of self-publishing can easily implement.

The best news? I am not alone in this endeavor. I have teamed up with 6 other authors who represent a wide variety of writers including; Craig Hurren, Victoria Sawyer, Carmen Stefanescu, Clancy Tucker, Melissa Wray and Lee Zamloch. They have each contributed their insight on topics like the importance of research, coping with bad reviews, creating a brand, utilizing feedback and much more!

Blogger Book Fair Spotlight: Jaded Hearts

Indie author Olivia Linden is stopping by the blog today with her book Jaded Hearts. Keep reading to find out how you can get it!

Synopsis

At 24 years old, Jade Spencer's life has hit a brick wall. Haunted by the mysterious abandonment of her mother, she found it was easier to live in the shadows of someone elses expectations.  From the strict authority of her  grandmother, the unwillingly guardian to Jade and her brother, to a controlling fiance who she can't seem to please, denying her feelings has been a necessary coping mechanism. Reality has suddenly come crashing in under the strain of denying her own dreams for so long, and for once, Jade is ready to live life by her own rules.

It's time for a fresh start. Turning away from the disappointment of her past, Jade ditches her shady fiance and packs her bags for New York City. With help from her aunt, she looks forward to her new future, her fabulous apartment in the city, a new job, and new experiences. Two fated encounters complicate her world when they both lead to unexpected and powerful emotions. She struggles with her desire to embrace these new feelings, and her habit of denying what she truly wants. In this not so classic love triangle, with a hint of mystery, Jade learns the hard way that sometimes intentions can mean everything and nothing at all, and no matter how far you run from the past, it's never too far behind.

Will she find love or will she leave a trail of jaded hearts? Love, secrets, and lies are all on the menu.

Excerpt From Jaded Hearts

Central Park was streaming with people clamoring to enjoy an unseasonably cool Sunday in July and it was just like I imagined. There were people sunbathing; playing with their pets; jogging; rollerblading, and just strolling along like I was at the moment as I headed to meet John. I was in awe of how green and lush the landscape was compared to the cement and brick metropolis that surrounded it.

Once John found out that I hadn’t checked it off my 'things to do in NY list', he insisted that we come here this weekend. I spotted him walking towards me looking like a college student, down to the backpack he sported. His golden hued hair was longer than usual, and was lightly wind tousled and he sported his signature sleeveless tee this time in white with red shorts and a pair of throwback Jordan’s.

Jordan’s?

He smiled at me and I could only imagine I didn’t look much different with my hair pulled back into a high bun, a snug white wife beater and coral colored shorts that stopped mid thigh and all white old school Adidas. We walked into an easy hug having spent so much time together lately that we were more than familiar. I pointed to his sneakers

“Nice kicks!” I joked.

He glanced down quizzically at his choice in footwear. “What? Are you kidding? These are classic!”

I just shook my head as we linked arms and set off to stake our claim to a blanket sized plot on the big lawn. We settled on a spot that was relatively less crowded and I watched as he set up the blanket, two pillows, a large thermos, hummus, crackers and chips with onion dip.

“Wow, you are really prepared! I’m impressed. What’s in the thermos?”

He shot me a sly grin and handed it over for my inspection, watching as I opened it sniffed and tasted the mystery drink.

“Yum, is this Riesling?” I took another sip.

“Very good Ms. Spencer. You’re a lush after my own heart.”He teased.

I threw the top of the canister at him.

We spent the afternoon relaxing together. Sunbathing with a good book is a very much underrated experience. Well, partial sun because it had grown considerably overcast as we enjoyed our picnic, which was probably what contributed to the cooler weather.  I reclined back on a pillow slightly perpendicular to John while using his torso as a foot rest. My oversized Channel shades concealed the fact that I had stopped reading the hilarious Abe Lincoln Vampire Hunter, and was watching him instead. He was intently covering each page of an old National Geographic edition.

Nerd!

A very handsome nerd though, and I could watch him all day. It was so cute the way his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed slightly as he read. I found myself wondering how his lips tasted. Just then he looked at me and I pretended to be just looking up from my book and he shot me a wink.

Could he tell I was staring at him?

I flashed him a smile.

So what if I was looking?

Especially since I caught him studying me when he thought I wasn’t looking. Often.

After a while he closed and pulled his aviators down.

“So how’s your book?” He asked as he grabbed one of my bare feet and began to knead and rub.

Ah that feels good!

“It’s really not bad. I was skeptical when Donna told me that she was reading it, but it is funny and holds your interest.” I raved.  

He continued to massage my thankfully pedicured foot.

“I don’t know, but I’m having a hard time picturing our sixteenth president hunting and killing vampires in his spare time. Vampires?” He shook his head with speculation.

I laughed in agreement.

“I know! I did too, but I’m telling you it’s crazy because it’s mostly a true story so it almost makes you want to believe the parts that are farfetched.”

He didn’t seem swayed.

“Well, how about I just take your word for it because I don’t plan to read it.” I pulled my foot away and waved my other foot at him for attention.

“Or, how about I read it to you?” I suggested.

John cocked his head to the side as he tugged my foot lightly pulling me of my pillow.

“I think I like that. That’s a creative compromise Ms. Spencer.”

I giggled as I repositioned myself on my pillow and began reading to him about Abe Lincoln meeting Edgar Allen Poe in New Orleans.

Just as I finished the chapter I was reading a splatter of water hit my book.

I knew it smelled like rain.

I looked at John who was wiping a drop from his nose and then we both scrambled to pack up our garden party.

The downpour hit just as we were scurrying out of the park. John grabbed my hand and I followed him as he ran a few blocks west of the park to his building.

“You can wait it out with me until it clears up.” He offered.

I nodded in silent agreement at his suggestion. I was soaked and my bun came loose somewhere between the pouring rain and the running. His building was older but it was very well maintained. We took the large ornate wooden stairs up to his second floor apartment and I leaned up against him involuntarily for warmth at the air conditioned hallway. He opened his door and pulled me into the apartment with him. I wrapped my arms around myself as he put down his back pack.

“Let’s get you warmed up. OK?” He rubbed my arms before he disappeared down a hallway, I assumed to his bedroom.

I loved his place. It had a totally dark wood, Sherlock Holmes without the clutter feel to it. There was a large bay window in the living room that was surrounded by floor to ceiling bookcases on either side. His sectional was light brown micro suede that went perfectly with the tone of his wooden floors. I walked over to one of the bookcases to marvel at his book collection but a glass door at the bottom caught my attention. It housed a record player accompanied by a rather large record collection. Elton John, The Beatles, Neil Diamond, Michael Jackson, Dionne Warwick and Burt Baccarat, Led Zeppelin, Motown Greats, The Big Chill Soundtrack. There had to have been well over 100 records. I kept flipping through and stopped when I spotted the Isley Brothers.

Yes!

I turned on the sound system and gently dropped the needle on the groove for the first track.  

“You find something you like?”  I heard John shuffle back into the room while I was loading the album, and turned around to face him with glee as the soulful ballad filled the room.

He stood there shirtless, his wet hair disheveled and holding a big T-shirt and towel for me. I was captivated by the definition of his body. He wasn't bulky, but chiseled. Every muscle was defined, even the hard lines that led to his hips stood out. He didn’t have a six pack, he had a ten pack.

The look in his hazel eyes was unmistakable as he looked me up and down and I realized what I must look like. My hair hanging in wet spirals around my T-shirt that was soaked, and plastered to my body revealing my black lace bra, and all of my curves.  I flushed red hot even more aware that I was now aroused. I stood wordlessly as he walked over to me holding up the accessories to get me dry.

“You must be freezing,” he observed. '

Every step he took closer to me made my heart beat faster and faster. He thought I was cold.

Not quite. 

The Sequel to Jaded Hearts, Only Her Heart, will be released August 19th!  Check out the trailer for a sneak peek.

Only Her Heart trailer

About the Author

Olivia Linden, a native New Yorker, was raised between Queens and San Antonio, TX. Currently living in Florida with her 10 year-old son, she decided it was time to follow her dreams of becoming a full-time author. Her creative itch began when her elementary school principal posted one of her stories in the halls of her school. She was only seven at the time, but old enough to understand how integral writing would be to her future. From that moment on, reading and writing became her two greatest passions. 

Olivia is a newbie to the industry, but she hasn’t stopped writing since she found her literary voice all those years ago. Jaded Hearts, her first published novel, mixes her big personality, with a sexy yet humorous tone. It is her philosophy that laughter is essential to making it through even the toughest situations.

Find your passion with Jaded Hearts by Olivia Linden.

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