Wednesday, 2 April 2014

Book Blitz + Giveaway - All My Restless Life to Live by Dee DeTarsio




All My Restless Life to Live by Dee DeTarsio
Publication date: April 29th 2013
Genres: Adult, Romance

Synopsis:

Award-winning author Dee DeTarsio combines life’s darker side with humor and tenderness in a wonderfully charming look at love and the afterlife.

Life is a soap opera, especially for Elle Miller, who is a TV producer. (Ellen dropped the “n” in her name in hopes of finding a better ending for herself.) When her laptop crashes, she borrows her dead dad’s computer and gets way more than she bargained for.

As Elle tries to save her career with a storyline featuring a trip through Atlantis, she takes a trip to the Emmys, and finds herself in the middle of a romance between a real doctor and a hunk who just plays one on TV. Friends, family, and clues from “the other side” all help Elle figure out the difference between living the good life . . .  and living a good life.


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AUTHOR BIO

 
Dee DeTarsio is a graduate of The Ohio State University and lives in southern California with her family. She did not teach herself to read at an early age or write stories by the time she was in kindergarten. She was still wetting the bed and playing in the can cupboard.


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Excerpt:

I laughed. Giggled, actually. I didn’t know why I felt so happy. A low-pitched voice hummed between the beeps of some kind of monitor. Was somebody playing with the hospital props again? The voice got louder. “I’m Quez Shirrock. Can you hear me?” Uh huh, I thought, still smiling. And I’m Betty Rubble. Quez Shirrock. Liam has really lost it. That is the worst soap opera name I have ever heard.
“Elle. Wake up.” The low, soothing sound of that voice vibrated to my very heart as I felt a hand touch my left breast. Yikes! Who’s feeling me up? My eyes flew open. What in the world?
Forget The Flintstones. It was Jon Snow. From Game of Thrones. Without the accent and animal pelts. But with the same vulnerable, brooding, coal-black eyes. An odd, not unpleasant mix of peanut butter and cinnamon blew into my nostrils. He peered into my eyes.
“I know nothing, Jon Snow.” I must have said that aloud because his immobile, almost stern features, shifted as the corners of his mouth turned up. What was going on here? I turned my head. Nope, I wasn’t in the studio.
“You hit your head and fainted,” he said. I couldn’t think about him as Quez Shirrock, I was afraid I’d laugh in his face. “Do you remember anything?” he asked.
I shook my head no.
“They brought you up here, to Sharp Memorial Hospital. I’m a neurologist.” Of course you are. Quez Shirrock. Why couldn’t I keep the smile off my face?





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