LYN C. JOHANSON - PARANORMAL ROMANCE AUTHOR
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Merry Christmas!

12/24/2018

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May your Christmas be filled with laughter and joy! And your hearts open to love.

On such a beautiful day I decided to post another one of my deleted scenes. Actually, this is more like an extra scene, since it was never meant to be put in my book. It's just something that popped into my head when I was writing Forged in Fire.
I hope you enjoy it!
The following scene happens just before the events in Till Death and Beyond start. 

“Would you hurry up, please,” Ciaran all but growled at his sister, who sat curled up on a window seat reading a book and showed no signs of stirring from her favorite spot. “Or will I have to leave you here?”
He wouldn’t, of course. And she well knew it. The problem was—her dallying cost time. Time he didn’t have.
He glanced at the clock and cursed. They were late. His uncle and aunt were probably already gone, off to help the king—a little tidbit he knew only because he happened to walk in on the conversation. Not because he was invited.
The invitation wouldn’t have mattered, he would have invited himself, but leaving his sister, or Amira for that matter, was out of the question. Especially with Amira’s penchant for disappearing.
If he was not fast enough, she would vanish once again. He knew it. He hated living in constant fear that something might happen to her. The country was full of witch-hunters and the members of the Order sniffing around. It was dangerous.
The thought brought him back to the image of his sister Natalie twisting her long golden hair around her finger. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn she was stalling. Only it didn’t make sense.
Natalie and Amira had no friendship lost between them. If anything, it was fear chaining his sister every time she was near their cousin. Which actually made him realize the reason for the delay.
Ciaran had to admit Amira had a certain way about her. An aura, or probably a spirit. As if she had the whole world on her shoulders. He had the strangest feeling every time he glanced at her lifeless eyes. Something he couldn’t name, or even begin to comprehend.
Natalie had once told him she had chills crawling down her spine every time she came in the vicinity of her cousin.
It seeps through her pores, had been Natalie’s exact words. And even if Ciaran didn’t have a clue about what she’d referred to, Amira’s gaze sometimes unnerved him too. Only he refused to succumb to that feeling.
“That’s it,” he barged into her room, prepared to drag her if needed. “I would like to leave this house before I turn eighty.”
“But--”
“No buts. Logan is waiting and I wager Amira is not.”
Natalie lifted her chin. “But I haven’t finished the book!”
Ciaran grabbed for the thing, intent on returning it to her when they were in their uncle’s mansion, but the picture on the cover caught his attention. He looked at the bloody dagger, his eyes narrowing.
“Haven’t you already read this?” he asked, convinced he’d seen this dagger before.
Instead of answering him, she gritted her teeth in irritation. “I’m about to find out who the murderer is.”
Her words jogged his memory and suddenly he knew— “The duke. It’s always the duke.”
Not only had she read the book a few times already, but she’d also told him the plot. In detail.
“Ciaran!” Natalie exclaimed. “You just ruined it!”
“You’ll live,” he shot back. Gods help him to be that lucky after a week with Amira.
I loved this little glimpse into Ciaran and Natalie's interactions (pre-TDAB), especially since I got the opportunity to witness Ciaran's journey in Forged in Fire, and now I'm writing Natalie's story.

​Once again - I hope you enjoyed it. And Merry Christmas!
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Christmas wishes do come true. But... be careful what you wish for!

12/22/2018

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As my title suggests, this post is about a Christmas wish. But let's start this from the beginning, shall we?
Back in September I had an Amazon freebie mostly hoping to see how this service works. I didn't have any expectations what so ever. I'm not that naive. And that's a good thing, because without pouring money into advertisement the results were bleak. 
I had more than a hundred downloads, but they resulted in 0 reviews.

Now fast forward a few weeks when I decided to do a goodreads giveaway (the one for $119, yes! I am crazy!!!). But I wanted to check if the paid service would result in something better.
Oh, it resulted...

On the plus side more than 700 people added my book to their goodreads "to-read" list. But after the giveaway ended and the winners got their books, my Customers who bought this item also bought list on Amazon book's page got completely screwed up. This is how it looks now: 
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It might be just me, but I imagine that most people who read about spirituality or educational reforms don't read many romances. But hey, maybe I'm just narrow minded. Who knows. The funny thing is - that row looked very differently prior to goodreads' giveaway.
Another plus would be - I finally got a review! But is it the review I was waiting for?

And here we come to the part about Christmas wishes.
I must confess that for about a week (or even more) I have been listening to Mariah Carey - All I Want For Christmas Is You nonstop (I was in the Christmas mood, what can I say :D). And somehow I would always end that line with the word "reviews". So when a few days ago I saw that there was a new review on Amazon, I was ecstatic!

Now every author knows how important reviews are. More importantly, how hard it is to get them sometimes. Little did I know my joy would die a sudden death the moment I started reading it.

Don't get me wrong. This is not a post to whine or bitch about a bad review. I have had them before. And I respect people having different opinions or giving constructive critique. The latter is very welcome. (I do want to improve.) What threw me, however, was the part where the reviewer basically admitted that she knew she would not like my book before even reading it because it was not her cup of tea.

And to think that's precisely the thing I asked before doing the giveaway - for people who know they wont like it not to enter!

This is a lesson for me, I guess. And my Christmas gift apparently! 
But speaking about Christmas gifts... I remembered that a have a few deleted scenes for Book1 and Book2 that I wanted to share for a long time now. But I could never manage to do that. See, I'm a perfectionist! And I publish only after rounds of editing and rewriting. But these little scenes have never seen an editor in their lives! (They could definitely use some polishing.) But somehow, after this bad review I feel like I can finally do this.
​
This is a scene that got cut from Till Death and Beyond because the book had already more than 100k words, and it wasn't that relevant to the plot. (Although I hated cutting this, and not being able to explore this.)
Please be advised that the scene contains a spoiler. And if you haven't read Till Death and Beyond yet, you should do that first.


With a deceptive calm Pharell stood at the edge of his sister’s grave, not ready to throw the dirt on her lifeless body.
   She’d always been so lively, nothing had ever brought her down. And now, nothing but her cold shell remained. Burying her, leaving her … felt like a betrayal.
   Pharell tried to reach for the dirt, yet his hand grabbed for his hip-length braid instead. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
   That braid symbolized a prince’s journey. His power. It was meant to grow till the coronation day. Then it would be cut. Pharell felt anything but powerful.
   He hadn’t been able to protect her the night she’d been taken by the Order, nor had he been able to save her from their prison. He’d been a prince, yet he’d been useless. Powerless to stop her from being gutted on a filthy dungeon floor.
   But it wasn’t only his or the Order’s fault. Half of the nobles turned coats at the time when they had needed support the most. The takeover had been treacherous and swift.
    If only it had been just the crown he’d lost.
    Once, it had been his destiny and desire. Now, it was nothing but the cause of Sofie’s death.
   He unsheathed one of his blades and without a second thought cut the braid off. It wasn’t his destiny anymore. It wasn’t his path.
   Pharell placed the braid on the grave, offering more than just dirt. With his sister he also laid his past into the ground. He laid a part of him.
   “Be at peace,” he uttered and took a step away, knowing that nothing would ever be the same again.
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    I write books I would love to read with fantasy worlds I would like to be a part of. Where anything is possible, but nothing more magical than love.

    Lyn C. Johanson

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