Publication date: February 13th 2015
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Synopsis:
The night Brittany Wakefield kissed her best friend, Jaime, she lost everything. Who knew one amazing moment could send him running— spinning a web of deceit and avoidance for two years. Stepping onto campus, she’s ready to win him back, even if it involves pledging a sorority she has no interest in.
Erik Draxton fell hard for Brit the moment she walked into the art room. With vibrant purple hair, music in her veins and a rebellious flair, she’s all he’s ever wanted.
While Jaime shrouds himself in secrets, Brit finds herself longing even more to be a part of his world. Unable to watch the girl of his dreams get tossed to the side, Erik decides to take matters into his own hands. But when Erik crosses a line, Brit feels backed into a corner, and discovering Jaime’s secret leaves her devastated.
With a shattered heart from Jaime, and the risk of losing Erik on the horizon, she knows one thing: navigating the social circles can be a suicide mission.
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Death
by Social Suicide centers
around a twelve year friendship between Brit and Jaime. It got me thinking of
how every girl should have a guy friend. What do you think? Do you have
a Jaime in your life?
Why
Every Brit needs a Jaime
1. A lot less drama! Guys tend to be more laid back and don’t overthink things. They go with the
flow, which is a nice change of pace sometimes.
2. You can geek out about things like Star Wars
trailers, video games, and fantasy novels without having to explain yourself.
3.
You
can go on dates—
prom, weddings, etc., without having
to worry about expectations.
4.
You
always have a drinking buddy, so you never have to worry about drinking alone.
5.
He
can always give you the guy’s POV when it comes to your
relationship problems.
6. You can eat whatever you want in front of him, and relish
in the fact that the food is often greasy.
7.
He’s protective of you in an adorable big brother way, not a
creepy possessive way.
8. You can lay your head on his shoulder while watching a
movie without him taking it as a signal to start stripping.
9. He’s
held your hair while you puked, and you both know it wasn’t the first time nor will it be the
last.
10. You’ve
shared the good times and the bad, and you wouldn’t trade a second of it. He’s your person.
In Death by Social Suicide,
Brit is being pursued by a rather talented artist named, Erik. While Brit tries
to come up with an endless series of excuses as to why she shouldn’t date him, I’ve assembled a list of why every girl
should date an artist at least once in their life!
Top
Ten Reasons To Date An Artist
1.
You’ll
always be his muse.
2.
His knowledge of different art periods makes him
an instant sexy museum tour guide.
3.
He doesn’t
want a girl covered in makeup, he prefers a blank canvas.
4.
Free spirit: Artists tend to be open-minded
people who appreciate a different view of the world than most, this leads to
hours of great conversation.
5.
Doesn’t
follow trends, so he’s not
interested in how expensive your shoes are, or if the bag matches. Which means
you don’t need material
items to impress him.
6.
Passionate! From their work to their girl, they
put their heart in all they do.
7.
Artists tend to have a desire to travel to
places all around the globe to seek inspiration. Make sure you have your
passport ready!
8.
They’re
creative— imagine how that
will translate in the bedroom!
9.
Two words: Body paint.
10. Role
play— just think how hot
it would be to drop your robe and say, “Draw me like one of your french girls.”
Death by Social Suicide
Karen Anne
Excerpt #1
“So,
you must have been really busy, huh?”
Erik was washing the charcoal off of his hands. I was covered myself and
needed the sink.
“What do you mean?”
“Well I thought over the week
you’d find the time to text me
once.” He ripped off a paper towel
and stepped to the side so I could use the faucet.
“I forgot.”
Erik
looked at me, unable to hide his disappointment. “I guess I’m not
that memorable.”
I
rolled my eyes and tried to explain, “No, I’m just really busy.”
“Oh yeah? With what?”
“Studies and stuff… ” I didn’t sound very convincing. I
dried my hands in a hurry, hating being put on the spot.
“All the more reason to take
a break.” He smiled warmly. He was
clean shaven tonight.
“Yeah, I probably should.” I tossed the rest of my
supplies inside my art portfolio and zipped it closed.
“Cool, so you want to go out
sometime? See a movie or something?”
“Like a date?” I said with far too much
alarm in my voice than was at all necessary.
“Wow.” Erik raised his eyebrows,
his eyes wide. “Don’t sound so horrified.”
“I’m not. I just, um… I never really thought about
it before.”
He
held the door open and allowed me to walk through. We walked down the hallway
to the stairway when he attacked again.
“So?”
“What?”
“Have you thought about it
yet?”
I let
out a nervous laugh. “Wow. You’re relentless aren’t you?”
“Well, I can rattle off a
list of my qualifications if you’d like.”
“I have a feeling you’ll tell me even if I say no.” We were on the first floor,
and made our way outside. It was dark already, and the night air felt crisp and
cool.
“Why yes, I will. Let’s see… I have a clean bill of
health, no weird diseases.”
I
laughed. “Well now you’re really wooing me, go on.”
“I also drive a very sleek,
uber sexy, ten-year-old blue Ford Taurus. Turned on yet?”
I
fanned my neck. “Keep talking, baby.”
“I have not one, but two
older sisters who have trained me in how to be a perfect gentlemen.”
“You do open doors for me…” I conceded. Not many guys
did that on a regular basis anymore.
“And… you think I’m kinda cute.”
“Actually, you’re not my type.” I giggled to weaken the
blow, but I was being truthful. I liked guys with dark hair, a few tattoos and
a brooding disposition. Erik was blond with blue eyes. He was too salt of the
earth for me. But, he was cute. I’d give him that much.
“What? I’m exactly your type, here
look.” He pulled me under a
lamppost and took my portfolio and laid it against the post beside his. He held
out his hands palm up.
“What do you see?”
“Charcoal stuck in the
crevices, you didn’t scrub hard enough.”
“No, it’s a sign of how artistic I
am. What else do you see?”
“I don’t know, let’s go.” I turned to leave, but he
caught my arm and tugged me back.
“No, I’m serious… look harder.”
I did.
I stared at his hands but just saw apricot skin, lines, and calluses. “Erik, I’m sorry, I’m tired and just want to
take a hot shower and go to bed.”
“You can in a minute. Look.” He grabbed my left hand and
turned it to so it was also palm up. He ran the pointer finger of his right
hand over the calluses on his hand, and then the calluses on mine.”
“How long have you played
for?” he asked.
I
swallowed hard, watching how he continued to trace the rough spots on my
fingers. “Since I was thirteen.”
“I started when I was six,” he said as he continued to
hypnotize himself with the swirls of my skin. Not gonna lie, it felt pretty
nice.
“That’s a long time,” I answered, my voice
cracked.
“Yeah, I really love it. My
guitar is a part of me.” He broke his gaze away from
my hand and focused instead on my eyes. Oh shit, he really was kinda cute.
“I’d love to hear you play,
Brit.”
I
pulled my hand away. I had only ever played for Jaime. Yeah, my parents heard
me practicing in the house, but private concerts belonged solely to him.
“How did you know I played
guitar?” I asked in an attempt to
change the subject.
“Because I pay attention to
the details.” His gaze was locked on mine,
like he was studying me. Not knowing what to say, I picked up my portfolio, and
continued walking.
“So, will you go out with me?” he asked again, grabbing his
portfolio and jogging up beside me.
“No.” I sighed.
“Can I walk you home to your
dorm room?”
“Yes.”
Death
by Social Suicide
Karen
Anne
Excerpt
#2
Our
model was beautiful, and if anyone was wondering if she was a natural red head,
she soon put their curiosity to rest when she disrobed, revealing creamy skin,
and a neat rug that matched the curtains. I glanced around the room, and
watched the other guys who tried hard not to smile as she took her position in
the middle of the floor, back arched, nipples to the ceiling. We usually had
male models, or strictly older women. This was a rare treat for them.
I
glanced at Erik, who didn’t seem phased by
the goddess of seduction that twisted before him. He sketched her form, his
head down, mouth in a stiff straight line. Usually, he did this thing where he
stuck the tip of his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. That was the Erik I
was accustomed to. This guy was an impostor. I put my head down and started
sketching Aphrodite.
When
the professor signaled for the model to take a break and everyone broke apart,
I followed Erik into the hallway and watched him disappear into the men’s room. All
right, I’ll wait. When the door
opened a minute later, I jumped in front of Erik—but it wasn’t Erik. It was my
professor, who grabbed at his chest in alarm.
“Sorry, Professor
Martin, I uh… thought you were
someone else.”
“Not funny, Miss
Wakefield,” he grumbled and
continued down the hallway. I flattened against the wall and waited. The door
opened again, and this time Erik walked out.
“You can’t ignore me
forever, we still have like ten more weeks of the semester. That’s twenty classes.
You’re really gonna
ignore me for twenty classes? And besides, we’re both art majors, chances are we’ll have another
class together in the future.” I
folded my arms and stepped in front of him so he couldn’t walk past. That’s right, five-foot-five
Brit was highly intimidating to six foot Erik.
The
corner of his mouth lifted up into a slow smile. “Missed me that much huh?”
“What? No, I—”
“You couldn’t even handle one
hour of me ignoring you. I thought you were tougher than that. Looks like playing
hard to get is paying off.”
I
worried he was serious, but then he cracked a real smile and laughed.
“You need to lighten
up, Monster High. I’m over you.”
Huh.
Over me. I’m not sure why, but
his words stung. Maybe because no one had ever been into me before.
Erik
kept talking, “In fact, I decided
to join a religious order. Perhaps Hare Krishna. Think I’d look good in
orange?”
I
laughed and stepped to the side so we could walk back to class together.
“So we’re cool?” I asked, just to be
sure.
“I’m cool. You’re cool now, I can’t say how cool you’ll look in those
letters.” He flicked at my
pledge pin.
“Yeah, but I think I
can make them cool.”
“No, you’re not that cool.”
“You’re right, I’m not.” I sighed in relief,
happy that we were talking again.
“What about her? Could
she talk you out of a religious order” I
gestured to our live playboy centerfold.
“Her?” he said, twisting
his face. “Not my type.”
“So you’re not into
perfect?” I eyed him with
suspicion.
“Nah.” He pulled gently on
the end of my hair. “I’m into purple.”
I
felt my face burn pink in response. Professor Martin clapped his hands, calling
for our attention. Everyone obediently returned to their easels, and the model
took a new position, her arms draped over her head, her hair falling delicately
over one of her perfect size C breasts. I stole a peek at Erik to see his
expression at this striking pose, but he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were fixed
on me.
STRANGER
THAN FICTION:
When
art (unexpectedly) imitates life.
In my novel, Death by Social
Suicide, the main character Brit has a passion for music. She plays
electric guitar like a rock star, the
music swimming through her veins making her feel at peace—but only when she’s alone. The fear of others hearing
her is numbing. I get that. Although I don’t have a tenth of the amount of talent that Brit has, I do
have a phobia of playing guitar or piano in public. It’s not something that people can
easily understand. They can’t comprehend why I would own these instruments if I never
play them. I do play them, I just play when I’m alone. Maybe one day, with enough
confidence, I’ll
gather up the courage to allow others to listen, but for now I’m perfectly content with playing for
my cats— and
boy are they critical! ;)
Brit also has a deep love for the
band, Green Day, and who can blame her? The band has played consistently great
music for twenty years. I remember getting Dookie on my sixteenth
birthday and playing it so often I nearly wore the CD out. Like Brit, I’ve gone to concerts to see the band
perform. And like Brit, I sat in the orchestra section of the St. James theatre
to watch Billie Joe Armstrong, the lead singer of the band star in American
Idiot on Broadway as the character of St. Jimmy. In my book, Brit gets to
meet Billie after the show and obtains his autograph. I wasn’t as lucky, and although I got close
to him that night, there were just too many fans. So I let Brit have the moment
that I never got.. until recently.
While working on revisions of Death
by Social Suicide, I discovered that Billie Joe was filming in my old
neighborhood. I called my best friend, Elaine who has shared every Green Day
moment with me, and we drove down there, expecting to find crowds and screaming
fans. What we found was a silent movie set in the middle of production. A kind
assistant let us stay, and watch Billie work. We were about fifteen feet away
from him and I swear he could hear our hearts thumping against our chest. It
was freezing cold outside and starting to rain (It was an outdoor scene) but we
were frozen not by the weather but by our luck. With our eyes glued to the
musician who had taken us from high school through college and into our
thirties, we were beyond nostalgic.
The director called it quits for the
night, and the assistant who had been so kind to us, went and whispered
something to Billie. We were told to stay in a certain spot, and after about
five more minutes, Billie walked over to us and just said, “Hi guys.”
Then… he hugged me.
Like a real hug… like
out-of-body-experience sort of thing. Then he turned to Elaine and hugged her.
And just like that, he left.
We stood there in shock…
It’s been three months since that night and I still get chills
whenever I think about it. Now when I look back on that scene with Brit,
standing next to Billie getting his autograph, I get this butterfly in my
stomach reminding me, Brit got the autograph, and that’s beyond cool. But I got the hug.
So it just goes to show you, each day
is filled with possibility. One minute you’re at your laptop working on revisions about a girl who has
a crush on a rock star. The next— you’re
face-to-face with that rock star.
AUTHOR BIO:
KAREN ANNE is a New Adult Contemporary Romance author who lives in New York. She loves cats, coffee and deeply misses 90’s grunge.
Karen is also known as Kat Daemon, Paranormal Romance writer and lover of all things dark and twisty.
You can find out more about her at www.katdaemon.com
Author links:
Karen is also known as Kat Daemon, Paranormal Romance writer and lover of all things dark and twisty.
You can find out more about her at www.katdaemon.com
Author links:
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