A Sneak Peek! at ALL THIS COULD BE YOURS

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: First, two bits of breaking news! 

First, my new book, ALL THIS COULD BE YOURS, a just got a rave starred review from Library Journal! How fantastic is that? It says:

“Ryan nails the feel and pace of life as an author, and creates a love letter to booksellers and librarians amid the suspense and twists. Ryan has written her best book to date, which should be on everyone’s reading list."

So that’s good, huh? I can tell you I am totally and utterly thrilled. Whoo hoo.

The next breaking news: there’s a Goodreads giveaway for ALL THIS COULD BE YOURS all right now! And here is the link.

Make sure you enter! It’s such an easy way to win an advance review copy of this book. Crossing fingers you win.  (And all good reviews are joyfully welcomed.)

I am so thrilled about this book.

It's the story of debut Author Tessa Calloway, whose first novel becomes a surprise bestseller – – and she is sent on a glamorous coast-to-coast book tour. Problem is, it soon becomes clear that someone is not only trying to ruin that career, but also destroy her beloved family back home. 

What makes it even worse, Tessa fears it is all her fault – – her current danger the result of a Faustian bargain she made long ago. 

And now,  a big-time book tour becomes a deadly cross-country cat and mouse chase. And the author must run for her life. 

It’s also super meta! As you can imagine. And when the time comes, I’ll tell you where the idea came from. But any author on book tour or any reader who’s ever attended a book event will recognize the insidious reality— authors on tour are incredibly vulnerable.

Here is a tiny snippet from an early chapter  of the book – – an exhausted Tessa, returning to her hotel room, gets a call from her husband Henry.

The long hotel corridor stretched out in front of her, jewel-toned paisley carpeting in some only-in-hotels pattern, lily-shaped sconces casting a dim glow onto the row of numbered doors.

She found hers, 3016, and patted her pockets for her room key card. She tapped the card against the metal square. The light blinked insolently red.

She tried the card’s other side. Red.

“Kidding me?” She tried again. Red. Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

“Tessa?” Henry. Finally.

“Hey, honey. Hang on. My key card isn’t working,” she interrupted his greeting.

“Did you put it against your phone again?”

“No. I didn’t.” Though possibly she had. “Sometimes they’re cranky. So about Linny—”

“How’d it go tonight? They loved you, right? Tessa Calloway, instant best-selling author. Inspirer of women. Bringer of power. The darling of social media. Hang on, Tesser,” Henry said. “I think I heard something. A sound. I’ll call you back in ten minutes. Fix your key.”

“What’s wrong? What sound? Is it Linny?” The kids. Henry. Their brand-new house. But there was only the flat white noise of nothing. He’d hung up.

Footsteps behind her. A man carrying a grease-spotted paper bag from Panera glanced at her as he walked by; he seemed to be taking in her face, her whisper, her bag, her suitcase, her phone call. She smiled at him, the wan acknowledgement of a fellow traveler, telegraphing all good, nothing to see here, waiting for my husband to check on a strange sound in our new house.

The man paused, assessed her again, opened his door. At least Panera Guy had a key that worked.

It’d be easy for someone like him to pretend to be a registered guest, the thought crossed her mind. While, in reality, be lurking, scouting, targeting. Using the built-in anonymity and accepted proximity as cover. As disguise.

But that was her writer-mind at work. These days, with a deadline for an unwritten second book looming, everything became a potential plot element.

She examined her card again, front and back, trying to discover what was wrong.

Oh.

She patted the pockets of her new book-tour trench coat; knee-length, black, suitable for airplane, rain, and substitute bathrobe. In the right-side pocket, her fingers closed over another hard plastic rectangle. She’d been using a key card from her previous hotel.

“Idiot,” she whispered.

She tapped, and her keypad light went green. She opened the door, then paused. Looked, ridiculously, for Panera Guy.

But the corridor was silent, empty, only an anonymous row of identical closed doors. She deadbolted her own door. Chained it.

She was Tessa Calloway now, and safe.

 

I will be on tour for this book starting in September, and cannot wait to see you all! We are announcing the tour stops very soon, and of course you will be the first to hear.

Readers, have you ever been to an event on an author's book tour? What was your experience?  Authors, are book tours a treat for you? Or a test of your endurance?

(And here is that Goodreads Giveaway link again!)