out the door. We can display your banner on a tall stand behind you; the banner would have your book info, your author’s page website, and about-the-author information. We can also display your books nicely on the table you’ll be signing at. We could also call the local television news station, radio and newspaper for a story.”
“It sounds great, but I think you may be expecting too much. Remember, I’m a self-published author, and I don’t really have a massive fan base. I have read a lot of biographies and autobiographies of authors who attended book signings. Erma Bombeck became a best-selling author, but at her first book signing, she signed exactly one book. And R. L. Stein, author of the multi-million-copy bestselling Goosebumps and Fear Street books, started out as a funny author who sold zero copies of his book How to be Funny at a book signing even though he wore bunny ears to attract people’s attention.”
Bethany comes over and helps to display the books. “People ask for your books daily. Word is spreading about you quickly.”
“I told all my friends my books are here and I also promoted it on every social media group I belong to for publicity. It’s free and very effective,” Brooke says.
“I see your sales in here and the locals love you. I think we should set it up for next month, get the buzz going now.”
I can see the excitement grow in her eyes. “Okay, sounds good. Let’s do it. But don’t be disappointed if this is a flop.”
“And don’t be surprised if this is a huge success.”
Later that night, Robert comes and helps me to close up the shop. He kisses me and asks, “How was your day?”
“It was great. Business is actually picking up.”
“That’s great. Pastries and books, who knew?” he teases.
“Obviously, I knew.”
We decide to dine out at a local small, quaint Italian restaurant. I tell him about the book signing I am planning on having at the shop for Brooke. He tells me Gus’ wife, Dove, is a reporter at the newspaper and maybe she’ll do an exclusive interview with Brooke. I know Gus better than I know Dove. I am excited and can’t wait to start promoting the signing at the shop.
“I need to get some signs posted and start promoting it, soon.”
Robert asks, “When is it?”
“I don’t have a date yet. I think a month should be enough time to promote it.”
“I would say a month is good. Maybe you can have a contest at the shop for the kids to make posters. Offer a free child’s book or two to the winner or winners,” he suggests.
“That is a great idea. Get the kids involved and their parents automatically become involved.”
“Exactly.”
“And who doesn’t like free books? I could also offer a free signed set of Brooke’s trilogy to the mother of the child,” I say, a little more excited than I intended. “I’ll need some poster boards and art supplies.”
“Tonight you need to rest. We’ll get the items you need later this week,” he insists.
“I am a little tired,” I admit.
Once we are home, I soak in a hot tub and Robert brings me up some hot tea. I look at him and he says, “Decaf.”
“You went to the store?”
“I did. I just picked up some things for you and…,” he cuts off mid-sentence.
“For me and… the baby?” I ask while stirring the tea.
“Mostly for you, but I did get something for the baby. I wasn’t going to tell you. I was afraid you would think it was bad luck.”
I smile at him and ask, “May I see it?”
“It’s really nothing.”
“Please, I would really like to see it.”
He walks out of the room and comes back in, carrying a small sack. He lifts up two pairs of baby booties: a pink pair and a blue pair. “It’s not much, but I wanted to get something.” He holds them in his large hands.
“Oh, Robert,” I say in a quivering voice.
“Baby, don’t cry.” He sets the booties down on the edge of the tub and kneels down to hug me. “Don’t cry. Baby.”
I cry softly
“It sounds great, but I think you may be expecting too much. Remember, I’m a self-published author, and I don’t really have a massive fan base. I have read a lot of biographies and autobiographies of authors who attended book signings. Erma Bombeck became a best-selling author, but at her first book signing, she signed exactly one book. And R. L. Stein, author of the multi-million-copy bestselling Goosebumps and Fear Street books, started out as a funny author who sold zero copies of his book How to be Funny at a book signing even though he wore bunny ears to attract people’s attention.”
Bethany comes over and helps to display the books. “People ask for your books daily. Word is spreading about you quickly.”
“I told all my friends my books are here and I also promoted it on every social media group I belong to for publicity. It’s free and very effective,” Brooke says.
“I see your sales in here and the locals love you. I think we should set it up for next month, get the buzz going now.”
I can see the excitement grow in her eyes. “Okay, sounds good. Let’s do it. But don’t be disappointed if this is a flop.”
“And don’t be surprised if this is a huge success.”
Later that night, Robert comes and helps me to close up the shop. He kisses me and asks, “How was your day?”
“It was great. Business is actually picking up.”
“That’s great. Pastries and books, who knew?” he teases.
“Obviously, I knew.”
We decide to dine out at a local small, quaint Italian restaurant. I tell him about the book signing I am planning on having at the shop for Brooke. He tells me Gus’ wife, Dove, is a reporter at the newspaper and maybe she’ll do an exclusive interview with Brooke. I know Gus better than I know Dove. I am excited and can’t wait to start promoting the signing at the shop.
“I need to get some signs posted and start promoting it, soon.”
Robert asks, “When is it?”
“I don’t have a date yet. I think a month should be enough time to promote it.”
“I would say a month is good. Maybe you can have a contest at the shop for the kids to make posters. Offer a free child’s book or two to the winner or winners,” he suggests.
“That is a great idea. Get the kids involved and their parents automatically become involved.”
“Exactly.”
“And who doesn’t like free books? I could also offer a free signed set of Brooke’s trilogy to the mother of the child,” I say, a little more excited than I intended. “I’ll need some poster boards and art supplies.”
“Tonight you need to rest. We’ll get the items you need later this week,” he insists.
“I am a little tired,” I admit.
Once we are home, I soak in a hot tub and Robert brings me up some hot tea. I look at him and he says, “Decaf.”
“You went to the store?”
“I did. I just picked up some things for you and…,” he cuts off mid-sentence.
“For me and… the baby?” I ask while stirring the tea.
“Mostly for you, but I did get something for the baby. I wasn’t going to tell you. I was afraid you would think it was bad luck.”
I smile at him and ask, “May I see it?”
“It’s really nothing.”
“Please, I would really like to see it.”
He walks out of the room and comes back in, carrying a small sack. He lifts up two pairs of baby booties: a pink pair and a blue pair. “It’s not much, but I wanted to get something.” He holds them in his large hands.
“Oh, Robert,” I say in a quivering voice.
“Baby, don’t cry.” He sets the booties down on the edge of the tub and kneels down to hug me. “Don’t cry. Baby.”
I cry softly
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