Andrea Randall

BLOG TOUR RECAP: Bo and Ember by Andrea Randall

Bo and Ember by Andrea Randall
Book #4 in The November Blue Series
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BLOG TOUR: Part #2 Nocturne by Andrea Randall and Charles Sheehan – Miles

Savannah Marshall is a gifted flutist and daughter of musical royalty when she enrolls in the elite New England Conservatory of Music. Brilliant, eclectic and passionate, she lives music, but struggles with her plans for the future.

Gregory Fitzgerald is one of the most renowned cellists of his generation. A member of the Boston Symphony Orchestra and professor at the Conservatory, he is laser focused on his career to the exclusion of friends, family and especially romance.

When Gregory and Savannah’s paths cross in the classroom, it threatens to challenge more than their wildly differing beliefs on music. Friendships, ethics, and careers are put on the line as Gregory and Savannah play a symphony of passion and heartbreak.

In the final movement, Gregory and Savannah are handed their greatest challenge, as the loss of absolutely everything they’ve held as truths hangs in the balance.

A musical composition that has a romantic or dreamy character with nocturnal associations.
What happens when two of your favorite authors combine their writing skills…a symphony of words that are a treat for the eye.  As sole authors both have proven that they have the chops to create stories full of beauty, angst, and joy.  Together they are pushing the limits while taking angst to a whole new level. 
“The music demanded a devotion that required every bit of attention I could muster, no matter how painful it might be, no matter how much time it took. I’d devoted my life to music, letting it take priority…over everything.”
Nocturne is more than just a love story.  From personal self-discovery to the moral struggle of what is right and what your heart wants to do.  Savannah and Gregory are both complicated and beautifully flawed.  Savannah is fighting to overcome the shadow of musical greatness while Gregory is fighting for control.  As a teacher, Gregory believes that music is a set of structured lines and notes on a staff that can be mastered with practice.  With practice comes the ability to create greatness.  Gregory approaches life with a similar mindset believing that music and life are both works in progress that scream for militant hard work with no room for creativity.  Savannah is a rule breaker.  For Savannah music is creation.  Can Savannah school the teachers that life can be taken from flat to sharp while still keeping your musical morals in tack?
“You’re always so…structured. But broody.  Dark. Sometimes I think there’s something inside of you just ready to explode.”
The push and pull that unfolds between Savannah and Gregory is anything but structured as they both test moral boundaries.  They are both challenging the limits.  
“Gregory stripped himself bare to me on that stage, going against his musical boundaries, pushing his personal limits, and he was asking me, again…”
This story spans ten years and will rock you to your musical core.  We see Savannah and Gregory’s growth.  Savannah’s transition into adulthood and Gregory stepping up to be the man she needs.  Will they both find their coda together?     
“She was my perfect accompaniment, and I feared that I’d ruined that chance forever.”
This duet between Andrea and Charles is full on harmony.  After picking up Andrea’s Ten Days of Perfect I was hooked and through her I found Charles.  Knowing and loving both authors work I thought I would be able to pick out each of their personal writing styles.  I was so wrong.  This story flowed with beauty and drew me in with musical highs and lows.  Nocturne is a treat for the eye and the soul.  This book will test your moral compass and turn everything you thought you believed in upside down.  Black and white becomes gray and as in music everything is not as it seems.   I am in debt to the writing Gods for bring these writing soul mates together.
“Music always sounded better with him. With us.”

Andrea Randall

I started writing poetry long before writing fiction. I firmly believe Poetry is a solid foundation for all other forms of writing. It taught me that a single word can make or break the world.

I write fiction because my characters have a story and they want me to tell it.

I hope you enjoy the pieces of my soul that I share with you.

Twitter: @ARandallAuthor
Charles Sheehan-Miles

Charles Sheehan-Miles has been a soldier, computer programmer, short-order cook and non-profit executive, and is the author of several fiction and non-fiction books, including the Thompson Sisters series and Republic: A Novel of America’s Future.

Twitter: @CSheehanMiles

Andrea Randall Weekend Special May 17th – 19th

 This weekend only Andrea Randall has the November Blue Series on special
May 17th till 19th
This is the first book in the November Blue series.

Scars from her first love and the reckless lifestyle of her parents force Ember Harris to chart a new course. She favors practicality over spontaneity and rules over a broken heart.

An encounter with a musician at a local pub forces Ember into making a decision to let go or hold on for dear life as passions are unlocked and deceptions revealed.

This is the second book in the November Blue series.

November Harris is lost. After a failed romance with musician Bo Cavanaugh, Ember is left struggling to regain her true self. The problem is, Bo won’t go away and Ember’s stance is firm—she doesn’t want him back.

Adrian Turner, Ember’s ex-boyfriend-turned confidant, is patient with her heartbreak, but he can’t hold back his own feelings forever.

As she sorts through her past, in an effort to plan a solid future, Ember will find that sometimes even the best laid plans bow to the soul’s desire for reckless abandon.


Exclusive: Ryker’s POV from Andrea Randall’s In the Stillness

Andrea Randall has written a special treat for all you In the Stillness fans!  We are getting the farmers market encounter from Ryker’s point of view!  What was going through Ryker’s mind when he first laid eyes on Natalie after ten years apart? Read and you will find out!  Enjoy…
Ryker’s POV
It’s hotter than usual for this time of year, and the sweat is pouring off me, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. The farm finally secured a contract with Atkins Market, and I’m unloading our first delivery with my buddy, Steve.
“This is the last box, Steve. I’ll be right in.” I hand him the last crate of squash and take a breath in the shade of the truck before jumping out into the blazing sun. Leaning forward to pick up the stack of dirtied papers, I’m stopped by a familiar voice.
“Natalie! What are you doing?”
On instinct, I whip around. For ten years, wherever I’ve been and whatever I’ve been doing, any time I hear Natalie, I turn around. It’s never her.
Until right now.
Shit. That’s Natalie. My Natalie. No. No, it can’t be her. If it were, she wouldn’t be walking toward me. She’d be running. Or yelling. Her eyes are wide, unblinking, and moving slowly across my face and up and down my body. I can see that her full lips are slightly parted, set in neither a smile nor a frown. Remembering, against my better judgement, how her lips once felt against my skin, accelerates my heart. Natalie’s arms are hanging loosely at her side, though they’re not moving as she carefully places one foot in front of the other. The closer she gets, the more it looks and feels like we’re in a dream—that she’s in a trance and I’m frozen in place.
Wiping sweat from my forehead, I’m certain that I’m watching the same girl walk toward me that walked toward me twelve years ago on the common. The gorgeous girl that I couldn’t help but kiss a minute later. I’m staring at the girl, now a woman, who put on a brave face and kissed me goodbye before I left for war. I take off my gloves and rub my eyes, trying to ignore and disguise tears that have filled them. Blinking twice and reminding myself to breathe, I’m forced to recognize this is real. It’s Natalie.
Say something, fool, before she comes to her senses and runs away. Like she should.
My breath catches in my throat as she stops ten feet in front of me, staring for an eternity and a half before slowly shaking her head.
Her voice. It’s her voice. God, her voice. Suddenly I’m back in Afghanistan, anxiously waiting for her to pick up the phone. Shaking my head, too, I grin in spite of myself.
Her lips part further, but neither one of us moves. Out of my peripheral vision, I see Steve approaching.
“We’re all set, Ryker, just bring them the inventory sheets and they say we’re good to go.”
I can’t look at him. If I do, she might disappear. To be safe, I just blindly slap his shoulder, grateful that her eyes aren’t searching for an escape. “All right, Steve-o. Thanks.”
As I pry my feet from the asphalt and walk toward her, I notice Tosha approaching Natalie, looking flustered. “Seriously, Natalie,” she says, “what are you do—” she drops her bags as her eyes land on me. “Ryker?”
Stopping just in front of Natalie, and ignoring Tosha for the moment, my lips form a full smile as I take her in. Her hair is still long, and hanging free down her back like I always liked it. She barely looks a day older than the last time I saw her, except there’s a slight tiredness that’s settled in her eyes. She’s still breathtaking, as always.
“Hi,” I manage.
“Hi,” Natalie says as she exhales. She looks scared. I am, too.
Tosha takes Natalie’s hand as she looks me from head-to-toe. Her eyes bore through me as, I’m sure, she’s looking for signs of the last Ryker she saw. One I barely remember. One who’s not here anymore. Smiling through my nerves, I run a hand through my hair, staring at the pair of speechless women.
Tosha takes a breath. “Hi Ryker.”
“Hey Tosha!”
Okay, that was a little more excited than I’d intended, but, neither of them are ignoring me. She lets go of Natalie’s and hand stands on her tip toes, giving me a hug. I look to Natalie as Tosha pulls away. God, I want to hug her. I want to pick her up and swing her around, setting her down twelve years ago, where maybe we could start all over.
As if she hears my thoughts, Natalie lunges forward and wraps her arms tightly around my neck. I lock my hands around her lower back, dropping my papers as I breathe her in. Sweet Jesus, she still smells like lilacs.
The last time I laid eyes on her, at her graduation from Mount Holyoke, she was laughing with Tosha and some dark-haired guy who I saw her kiss a minute or so before she spotted me. The way her face sank as she found me across the grass broke my heart, and I got the hell out of there as fast as I could.  I plucked a lilac from it’s bush on the walk to the car, vowing to stay far away from her for the rest of my life. I owed her that.
Her soft cheek brushes against my chin, and we sway for a moment. For just a second it’s us. She lets go first and takes a step back.
She chuckles uncomfortably. “I can’t believe you’re here.
She’s right. Here. We’ve lived in the same town for several years and have managed to avoid each other this whole time. I’ve never tried to avoid her, to be honest. But, knowing how things ended between us, that’s exactly what she’s been doing.
Tucking my hands in my pockets, I try for a nonchalant shrug. “I just got a contract with them last week, this is our first delivery.”
Watching those bottomless dark eyes flick back and forth between the truck and my face, I realize I’ve skipped a step.
Smiling again, I say, “It’s my farm, Nat. I started it two years ago and this is the first year we’re selling off of the property.”
Idiot, don’t call her Nat! That name doesn’t belong to you anymore. I find myself wondering who, exactly, it does belong to.
She and Tosha look at each other, wide-eyed. Natalie smiles, looking back at me, settling my heart’s uneven race. “That’s amazing, Ryker, good for you.”
“Thanks.” My eyes fall to the ground for a second. They take their time coming back up—following the curve of her hips before meeting her eyes again. “You look great, Natalie.”
She does.
“You do too.” I feel the tension around us snap as I watch her face relax.
I’m about to open my mouth and try to say thirty things at once, when an impatient truck driver honks his horn.
Dude, seriously?! This is Natalie, give me a second!
“Shit, listen,” I shake my head to help me focus. Her eyes haven’t stopped moving across my face since she spotted me. I’d kill to know what she’s thinking. “I gotta get these papers inside and get back to the farm. You should stop by sometime and see the operation.” Tosha’s been picking up the bags she dropped when she saw me. I pick up the last one and hand it to Natalie. “It was great seeing you, Natalie.”
You should stop by sometime? What?
I can’t believe it’s her. Still. Reaching out, needing to touch her one more—one last—time, I softly squeeze her shoulder before picking my papers up off the ground and jogging inside before she can tell me to go to hell.
Once back in the truck, alongside Steve, after we settle up inside, he pulls me out of my head.
“Who was that you were talking to? She’s hot. So was her friend.” Steve nods approvingly as he speaks.
I open my mouth three different times. How do I tell him? Sure, Steve and I are friends, but only in the last couple of years. He knows I have a messy past, but the details haven’t ever been necessary. She’s the only thing that went right for me back then, and I fucked it up. Big time.
With my stomach twisted in knots, and a lump forming in my throat, I shrug, deciding the less he knows, the less I have to fill in. “She’s just this girl I used to know.”
I feel guilty as soon as the words are out. Natalie’s not just anything. She never has been. She was my soul mate. Is. And I ruined her. But, she looked healthy and happy. Turning left to head back to the farm, I fight the urge to track her down. To grab her face and kiss her, to kiss away the pain I caused in her.
No. I take a deep breath and ignore the lilac buds on the trees as we head down the road. I can’t ever see her again.

Natalie is a wife.
Natalie is a mother.
Natalie is a cutter.

Clawing at walls built by resentment, regret, and guilt, Natalie cuts as an escape from a life she never planned.

Staying present is only possible when you let go of the past. But, what if the past won’t let go?