Station wagon in periwinkle blue … you, too, or just Danielle E. Shipley?

Station wagon in periwinkle blue … you, too, or just Danielle E. Shipley?

Nothing’s better than being on the _________ teamDanielle E. Shipley
Team stuff? Yeah, never been real big on that. I always put a huge amount of pressure on myself not to let anyone down, and if I don’t feel that everyone else is giving their 300% as well, I get frustrated beyond words. Plus, it doesn’t take much to get me into over-competitive mode. You would not have wanted to play board games with me in my younger years; I was no fun.

If that doesn’t get you interested in this brand new author, check her out at all these other places:

My other car was a ________________
As a little kid, I used to talk about wanting a station wagon in periwinkle blue. The first car I ended up with was a red minivan – so, wrong color, but still a totally sensible family ride. I grew attached to her fast. Never mind what she looked like, never mind that my dad’s name was on the registration; she was /mine/. After many years and, among other issues, getting hit by a couple deer (yes, /the deer hit her/), we recently had to sell her for scrap metal. I’m still in mourning.

There was a hot teacher … her/his name was …
Well, there was something about my drum teacher in college… I’ve forgotten his name, now, as I rarely used it. Talking to authority figures intimidated me, but this guy scared me less than some, and was more attractive than most. Maybe it was the long, gentle waves of silvery hair, or his soft-spoken voice. The fact that he was a musician had to have helped, as did the way I could tell I impressed him with my rapid progress in our one semester together. Good old what’s-his-name.

Nerd? Geek? Jock? Snob?
Someone surprised me not long ago by saying my peer group in church had their eyes on me, waiting to see when I would stop seeming like the perfect homeschooler. I’d had no idea anyone saw me that way! Yeah, I was among the best in church orchestra, I usually had the answers in Sunday school, I sat up straight with my family in the second row pew, but I never figured anyone paid me any attention. Are they sure by “perfect” they didn’t mean loud and socially inept? ‘Cause I’m sure I was that!

Now, before we get to the last question, let’s look at Danielle E. Shipley’s book …

For a muse like Lucianíel, one story’s end is another’s beginning.

In the wake of his author’s sudden death, Luc takes ownership of her surviving creations—four fantastical characters with tales yet to be told—saving them from unwritten lives crumbling around them and giving them a second chance at a literary future.

Luc finds that chance in the unsuspecting mind of Annabelle Iole Gray, a quirky teen with her head in the clouds, nose in a book, and imagination ripe for a brilliant muse’s inspiration.

Or so he hopes.

Neither Luc nor Annabelle, however, realize all they’ve undertaken. Even with a to-write list including accounts of a shape-shifting cat creature, gentle knight-in-training, vigilante skater girl, and a mystery boy smothering in unspoken fear, the most remarkable saga created between author and muse just may turn out to be one stranger than fiction.

Their own.

Favorite one-line review about the book
“Creative as all get-out.” I take that as a huge, smile-making compliment.

Favorite 6 sentences from the book
“And who will remember you as you were?” he asked, with a moan of mourning. “This piece of stone is no fitting monument. I would have made you immortal, Jean. And I will.” His eyes burned like the shrouded sun. “This shall not be your end—not while I exist to make it your beginning.”

Buy it now …

or find it on Goodreads

But before you go, one last question …

One night … I snuck out and you’ll never believe what happened …
One wild night (prepare to be floored by my definition of “wild”), a handful of friends and I decided to kill time by running across a field in the dark. I have no idea who the field belonged to, so I guess we risked getting in trouble for trespassing, along with the potential hazard of turning an ankle in a gopher hole. We stood around on a little hill in the middle, pretending to engage in substance abuse. For the record, we didn’t have any substances with us to abuse. It was all utterly without point from beginning to end, and I guess that, in itself, was the point – like “art for art’s sake”, just replacing “art” with “shenanigans”.

Congratulations, Danielle! Good luck with Inspired!

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