Holy smokes! I can’t believe it’s almost 2016.

I’d love to say I had a spectacular year, but that would be a lie.

Aside from meeting Joanna Wylde in person and confirming first hand that she is absolutely one of the coolest people ever, 2015 was not my best year. I’m eager to put the past 12 months behind me. Why? If I could put 2015 into one word, that word would be STRUGGLE.

My forty-fifth year on this earth has been an uphill climb. Not climbing so much as clawing desperately at loose dirt to keep from falling into a deep abyss, both personally and professionally.

My attempt at establishing a profitable career in the publishing industry failed miserably. One epic failure after another. I did, however, learn some lessons along the way.

Shall I share? I’ll share. Besides, I need to write them down because I’ll probably forget them by February. After all, I am coming up on my forty-sixth year on this earth. Reminders are good.



Don’t get a big head.

When I signed my first contract, I foolishly thought, Hallelujah! I made it. I finally get to do what I love for a living. I’m a published author, motherf*ckers. All you doubters can suck it. It only took until my first royalty check to burst that bubble. I might catch grief for saying so, but being a published author doesn’t mean shit. If your previously published books aren’t selling, good luck getting a publisher (even one you already have a relationship with) to blink twice at you.


Don’t quit your day job.

You need money to sell books. Yes. You need money to sell books. And if you are not making money off your previously published works, or in my case, deep in the red from pimping previously published works, you are screwed. Because now, not only will publishers not blink twice at you, you have to come up with the funds to self publish and market. Good editors, cover artists, etc., don’t come cheap. And even if you’re lucky enough to sign with a publisher, if you aren’t in a position financially to pimp the ever loving hell out of your books, or you haven’t made the right friends in the industry, good luck getting anyone in this saturated market to buy them, let alone read them.


Don’t read reviews.

Yes, it’s true, good reviews pump you up, make you feel like you’re walking on clouds. You can read ten or twenty great reviews in a row, but read just one bad, and you’re destroyed. For days. Remember lesson number one? Yeah. When that big head gets popped, it’s devastating not only to your ego, but your creative soul. You have to know that not every creature on the earth is going to like your work. You don’t, however, have to open yourself to that negativity. This gig is hard enough. People’s opinions are their own. Remember that.


Give yourself a break.

Not every writer can squeeze out ten books a year, or ten thousand words a day. Do what works for you. Not every writer is going to make bestseller lists. Stop comparing yourself to other authors, because if you do, you’re playing a game of catch up that nobody can win.


Never, ever forget why you started writing in the first place.

It’s so easy to drown in the chaos of social media and marketing, to question why one author is popular and another isn’t. How often do we let deadline pressures, or word count goals suffocate our joy? If you don’t love the hell out of what you do, if you don’t get lost in your stories, lose time while you’re writing, live and breathe your characters, then what’s the point?

I started writing because I loved telling stories. Back then, I never considered I’d be published someday. And I was happy writing. And you know what? I needed the rejections, the disappointments, trials, and distractions of this past year. I needed to crash and burn to remind me why I started writing in the first place–IT’S MY HAPPY PLACE. My escape. I lost sight of that in my pursuit of success.

So if I never sell another book, I’m okay with that. I’ll continue to tell stories. It’s who I am.

If I sell a million books, I’m okay with that too. I’ll continue to tell stories. I’ll just use a better computer.

Either way, I’m letting go of all the negatives, and never losing sight of my happy place again. I’m too old for that shit.happy new year






Aglow Book MockUp

Sometimes, the brightest souls commit the darkest sins

Marcus Lothario plays hard, in and out of bed. Takes what he wants with no regrets. Until she comes along.

He considers himself the luckiest man alive. Not only is Camilla the most beautiful creature on earth, she’s remained pure, for him. Problem is, their bonding ignites a power that changes his bright angel into a dark warrior, and her sins will leave a dark stain on his soul.

Camilla Nilsson plays it safe. Works hard and avoids temptation. Always the good girl. Until he comes along.

When Marcus crashes her long overdue vacation and rescues her from a jealous demon, she’s exposed to a world few know exist. Her pure soul is the one thing that can damn her to hell. Her deadly warrior is the only one who can pull her back.


Amazon  B&N  Smashwords  Kobo  iBooks


(C’mon, you know you do)


©Krissy Daniels 2015

Too Many Sexy Men

I am so happy to kiss summer goodbye. The kids are off to school and I’m ready to jump back into bed with my boys. Having my offspring home for the past couple of months cut my writing time down to nothing. I missed the sexytime with my heroes. But guess what?

I’m back!

I finally, FINALLY, turned Aglow (Apotheosis, book two) in to my editor. It’s been a long time coming. I started writing Aglow at the same time as Aflame (Apotheosis, book one). I’m excited to unleash Marcus Lothario, self proclaimed sex god, on the world. He’s so sexy, and so damn alpha. Camilla Nilsson is the one woman who can tame him, and holy hotness, does she whip him into shape.

Franklin Reed, or hero from How To Kill Your Boss, is coming back with a vengeance. One of the R.O.G.U.E. agents is out to make trouble for the happy couple. Buckle up for this one. There will be hell to pay for the poor bloke who puts Tate in danger again. The working title is How To Ax The Ex. I can’t wait to see what sexy adventures Franklin and Killer will get themselves into this time around.

I’m also dancing with the devil in a new adult, contemporary romance, currently titled, Truck Stop Tango. Six years after betraying Slade, his childhood sweetheart, Tango Rossi comes back to town seeking forgiveness. With a baby on the way, he  needs to right the wrongs of his past before he can move forward. Problem is, he’s still madly in love with Slade, and the sweet girl he grew up with, is hiding dark secrets that can destroy both of their futures.

I’m surrounded with sexy hotness, as you can see. My alphas are keeping me on my toes and I love every second of it. I have the best job in the world!

What now?

Well, Aflame’s blog tour is officially a wrap! What a fun month. Now, it’s time to get down to business. I have three new stories in the works. Aglow, book two of the Apotheosis series, How to Kill the Ex-Wife, and Truck Stop Tango.

How To Kill Your Boss – An Erotic Love Story releases in little over a month. That one pulled me through the ringer and I’ve had a hard time getting back into the writing groove after an excruciating couple months of edits. I’m not complaining though, because Franklin and Tate are near and dear to me and I can’t wait to share them with the world.

So, I’m off to write my little heart out, but before I go, here’s a fun excerpt from How To Kill Your Boss. Enjoy!


Franklin tossed his cell at my feet, rolled down his window, and took a deep breath.

Classified? “Who are you?” I swiveled to face him.

His grim expression softened. Barely. “You know who I am.”

“Who are you?” I asked again, more a demand than a question.

“The man who keeps saving your ass.” He looked my way, and I got my first glance at his face. The skin surrounding his eye boasted several shades of purple and blue. His nose definitely didn’t look right, and three large scratches stretched from his left eye to below his cheekbone. Not bad for my first shot at kicking someone’s ass. Instinct urged me to reach over and offer comfort. I tucked my hand under my leg to keep it from such betrayal.

“Why were men shooting at you?” I asked, unable to cloak the seething anger in my tone.

“They weren’t.”

“Now you’re not making sense.”

“You have to trust me.”

“How in the world can you ask me to do that? Why is there a collage of me on your wall?”

Franklin’s lips drew into a tight line. The muscles in his jaw protruded.

“Classified?” I asked, fed up with the way the conversation was going.


My pressure gage blew. I buried my face in my hands and screamed. “Take me back to the police station. I can’t be near you. I’d rather rot in a cell.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” His voice remained calm.

I pulled on the door handle. “I’ll jump out if you don’t start talking. Why were men shooting at you?”

“They weren’t aiming for me, Killer. You were the target.”


What I Learned at ECWC or, Why I Don’t Want to be in a Fancy-Schmancy Hotel During the Zombie Apocalypse

I spent the weekend hanging out with a gaggle of awesome ladies! I made new friends, reunited with old friends and met some amazing author’s I wish I could take home and hide in my closet. The conference inspired me, fried my brain and opened my eyes to the nature of women and the lack of proper planning by hotel developers.

I learned that no matter where you go, what you do for a living, or what social circle you belong to, women talk. When I say talk, I mean gossip. Holy cow. I loved it!

Annex - Shearer, Norma (Women, The)_01

I also learned that writers, especially romance writers, are the greatest group of people to hang with. Didn’t matter what stage in their writing career, these ladies were so, so gracious and more than willing to share their knowledge.

I learned something about myself, too. Tolerance? Yeah, I don’t have much. Don’t do crowds very well. Attention span? Um, I thought I had one. Turns out, I can focus for about half an hour before drifting off to la-la-land.

Ralph Phillips 3

I blame it on the zombies — and my children for asking me this question on a daily, sometimes hourly basis…Mom, if the zombies attacked, where would you rather be. Costco, or the mall? Or if we’re in a store…Mom, if the zombies attack, where will you hide?

So you can understand why, instead of absorbing wisdom from the amazing speakers, I planned escape routes. A fancy-schmancy hotel is not the place to be during the zombie apocalypse. Not one door in any of the many conference rooms had handles that you could wedge an axe through to keep the zombie horde out. There weren’t even axes hanging by the doors. What? And the chairs were metal. How are hotel guests supposed to defend themselves with chairs that can’t be broken down into clubs or spikes?


I considered how long it would take to stack the chairs high enough that I could climb into the ceiling panels. Conclusion? In a crowded room, I didn’t stand a chance. If I could stop the chit-chat and clanking of coffee cups long enough to pull a team together, I figured half of us might survive.

images 12.43.49 PM

Zombies can’t climb, right? I thought about climbing to a chandelier and hanging out up there but then I remembered, I can’t do one pull-up. How in the hell could I pull myself onto a chandelier? Were there enough bolts holding the thing up to bear my weight?


Could I break a window and climb on the ledge until help arrived? No. The uppity hotel didn’t have the foresight to plan escape routes let alone ledges for us to dangle off if need be. Inconsiderate much?

Unknown 12.43.46 PM

Despite the hotel’s lack of concern over their patron’s safety during a zombie outbreak, I had a hoot at ECWC. And I made it home with all of my body parts. I’m at peace because my house, according to my offspring, is properly equipped for the imminent War of the Undead.

Now I can write.