Erm… BUZZING MUCH?! Actually, I’ve been wanting to yell it from the rooftops for weeks. I got so excited I went out and bought a new bass. It’s pink! Plays like a god damn dream, too. She’s called Pixie.
So, I have a book deal, and ergo a book that I’ve written is being published in the Autumn. The book is a massive rejig of the book I threw up on Amazon back in 2015; Getting Over Jesse Franklin. New title, bigger story, same nostalgia, same gorgeous love. Still London, still LA, and a hell of a lot more Jesse.
I’m hugely excited. Thank you to everyone who commented and shared and retweeted my announcement. What a ride it’s been so far.
I mean, I value having those kind of friends I have met offline as well. Of course I do. I have my best friends from school and childhood. My BFF in all the world, a woman I truly believe to be a soulmate type. We don’t see each other nearly enough, but life gets in the way, doesn’t it? I have my work friends whom I love. It’s not a deep and meaningful appreciation for student and academic admin that keeps me going back, believe. (Okay, some of it is the regular paycheque. This girl has a reasonably expensive Nespresso habit and a car loan).
But I also have my friends on Twitter. Likeminded, beautiful, strong-AF, hilarious, kind people who mean a lot to me. And that’s rather nice, because I think, as you get older, you get more picky about who you devote time to. You suffer fools less. You learn your worth. And Twitter, as vast as it is, can be pretty superficial in terms of interaction. You might have a little chat with someone, but there’s so much going on that it’s easy to forget. To not check in. To move on to the next thing. That person disappears into the ether. You refresh and they’re gone.
A few weeks ago, I went to Laura Pearson’s book launch party. It was delightful, for so many reasons. Her debut, Missing Pieces (Agora), is wonderful. A proper tear-jerker. Heavy subject matter, which I knew before I read it, and set in the town where I live, which had me intrigued. I love to be able to imagine the settings of the books I read — who doesn’t? And the fact the book is set in Southampton, and name checks the very place where I am gainfully employed, well, it made the book all the more special to me. Read her book, have tissues handy, but know it will leave you with a warm feeling.
Anyway, the book launch. I’ve never been to one, and I was thrilled to be invited. There was cake (and gin). Laura mingled, did a reading. I won’t forget the look of absolute pure love, admiration, pride, and joy on her husband’s face. Get you a partner who looks at you the way Laura’s husband looks at her. Truthfully, I got a bit emosh. I think we all did. Like I said, it was delightful.
And the other reason I was so excited to be there, was because those smart, beautiful, funny women I’m I spend so much time talking to, they were there, too! (Well, of course Laura was there! It was her book launch! Be a bit weird if she wasn’t.) And it didn’t feel like the first time we’d spent time in each other’s company either. We gossiped and talked about people we fancy (natch), and each other’s writing, and how things are going, and about how it was such a lovely thing to get together like that, under such happy circumstances. If you saw us, sitting around that table, you’d never know we’d never met before that day. We have a WhatsApp group now, and that’s sealed it. Fronds til the Ond.
I said that Twitter’s a vast place, but it can also feel small and cliquey, and sort of like you’re shouting at a room full of people, none of whom are really listening. You can feel as if you’re floating around, on the periphery of conversations, like walking into a place where everyone knows each other and you know exactly no one, and you have to have those awkward introductions time and time again until you stick with someone. Which is why finding people who are listening, who will shoo away the inevitable imposter syndrome that comes with writing, who will celebrate your achievements and send you gifs of delicious men when you’re feeling low or hormonal is a Very Cool Thing. That shit’s important. It buoys you up, it keeps you going.
So, I’m thankful to the people who invented the website with the little blue bird mascot, because we’d have probably never met otherwise, and I’m thankful for my tribe, and now I’m signing off, before this gets too mawkish and I start pulling a Gwyneth At The Oscars. Should probably get back to editing my book anyway.
But look at this, my little Twitter FamJam. BAMFs, the lot of us.
We all have our lucky dress… an irresistibly hilarious rom-com: perfect for fans of Anna Bell, Jo Watson and Sophie Kinsella.
I’m so excited to bring you guys this cover reveal for The Lucky Dress by Aimee Brown. I read this a while in its previous life as Little Gray Dress and loved it. Aimee has a way of pulling you in and I read it in almost one sitting.
So here we go!
Gorgeous, huh?! Can’t wait to re-read with the updates!
Emi Harrison hasn’t been feeling particularly lucky lately. Ever since her ex-fiancée, Jack Cabot, successfully shattered her heart into a million pieces. She’s managed to avoid him for a whole year, but all that’s about to change at her brother Evan’s wedding…
She will have to face Jack, Jack’s sister, Jack’s parents, and Jack’s new girlfriend: a mean girl that just won’t quit. What could possibly go wrong?
But with her lucky dress on, she might just find new love, life, and maybe even happiness at last!
*This book was previously published as Little Gray Dress (now has a 20k word addition)
Released on August 07, 2018, but click here to pre order now.
About the Author
Aimee Brown is a writer of romantic comedies set in Portland, Oregon, and an avid reader. She spends much of her time writing, raising three teenagers, binge-watching shows on Netflix and obsessively cleaning and redecorating her house. She’s fluent in sarcasm and has been known to utter profanities like she’s competing for a medal.
Aimee grew up in Oregon but is now a transplant living in cold Montana with her husband of twenty years, three teenage children, and far too many pets. She is a lot older than she looks and yes, that is a tattoo across her chest. Aimee is very active on social media and would love to see you stop by and say hello.
Last autumn, my friend Ve and I decided that we deserved a trip away. ‘Fuck it,’ we said, ‘Let’s go to LA. YOLO!’
(and, you guys, this is where collecting air miles comes in very handy. My return flight to Los Angeles on Virgin Atlantic was £290. Taxes only. What an absolute STEAL!)
In any case, whilst we were there I used to opportunity to visit a little beachside town just south of LA. It’s a town I’ve written about pretty extensively, but until last Monday, had never actually been to. Seal Beach, Orange County. It’s the town my book is set in. It’s where Jesse Franklin lives. And as it turns out it was absolutely perfect and I completely fell in love with the place. Gah. Typical.
Never have I been so proud of myself for randomly sticking a pin in a map and committing to it.
We took an Uber there from Venice, and during the drive I sat and looked out of the window and took it all in. I looked at the mountains on the horizon, and at Downtown LA flicking in and out of view as the freeway curved around, and all the neighbourhoods and the long stretches of road, all places I’d navigated extensively on Google maps and had only visited in my head. We pulled up by the pier and it felt so familiar.
After a stint on the beach, we ambled down Main Street, and poked around in boutiques where Cassie would almost certainly buy all her clothes (I picked up a dress and some jewellery. Would have been rude not to, really). We went to a coffee shop and drank iced lattes. We ate chicken wings and chilli cheese fries and drank a vanilla flavoured beer called Cali Creamin’ for lunch, and we strolled down the pier, watched the sun glint off the water and gazed at the outline of Catalina Island far off in the distance. We looked over the side at the ocean slapping against the legs of the pier and we walked right up to the chain link fence at the end.
We walked down the street with the beach houses on, and I tried to figure out which one of them would have been perfect for my book, but I couldn’t decide; they all were.
Honestly, I felt quite emotional walking around. I make zero secret of the fact that my books are one of my most proudest achievements, and going to their home felt really special. I felt connected to Seal Beach in a way I didn’t expect at all.
And I told everyone I met there about my book; a very lovely British expat we met in Bogart’s, who was surprised to hear another British accent in such a small Californian town. The girls in the boutiques we went to, and the guy we saw walking down the beach holding a god damn guitar. Jesus Christ, can you believe it? It was too good an opportunity to pass up.
We got a taxi back to Venice late in the afternoon, and although I was almost a bit sad to leave my book home, I was so glad to have made the trip out there. It might not be the most glitzy or well known of OC beach towns, but one thing is for absolute certain, I’ll definitely be back.