Along with book covers, I’ll be giving short voice reviews for books of authors of SFR, Science Fiction Romance.
Since most stories I write are SFR and it’s a growing genre, I want to develop a site where new authors are highlighted.
I’ll be posting reviews of authors on my FB writers groups, and any authors who request my short critique of their voices (including the author’s site and buy page).
What am I getting out of this?
With all my time writing, and mostly editing my own work, as yet I’m not sure who my small audience would be for my own brand of SFR (sorry, folks, if I put too much of my geeky science into my work). So, by sampling what’s out there, specifically encouraging the reading of accessible speculative voices, I hope to increase an audience for SFR and my brand of SFR. [And this does not mean the work has to be exactly scientifically accurate: If someone walks off a cliff and doesn’t fall, then there needs to be a hard, creative, sci-fi explanation of how that’s possible).
I will NOT post negative reviews. Mine are meant to encourage an audience that enjoys SFR. So, if you’ve got plenty of original attitude in your work (especially, your first hook and/or first page) that’s meant to engage your reader, please send them my way via email in the text of the email.
The first time Mrs. Nagy ever noticed anything was at the beach when Derv was three. Had she known what to look for, she might have seen that he was that way from the start. But what mother ever measured an infant’s random moves and reverses around a crib or even a playpen?
Delaney looked at Wes, the expression on her face unfamiliar, but instantly recognizable.
That look shredded his heart, because if there was one thing Delaney Monroe had never been, it was helpless. He’d never known anyone more capable of taking care of herself. Being strapped to all these machines, unsure of how she’d come to be here or what was happening, had to be the worst kind of hell imaginable for someone so determinedly self-sufficient.
What I like about this excerpt is the respect shown by the hero for the character of his heroine.
“Elizabeth?” He raised his dark eyebrows, and my gaze locked on his startling eyes. Piercing, round, and the lightest shade of blue, like sky behind a veil of cloud—-clean cloud, not the brown smudges that passed for clouds back on Earth. Something about him tugged at my memory, but I found this the opposite of reassuring. Continue reading →