Bridal Girl is up for pre-order!

Hi there,

My big news this week is that my eighth romantic comedy novel and the third book in my Blogger Girl series, Bridal Girl, is up for pre-order on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo!  (Publication date is April 24th.)


What’s it about?

Warning: exposure to the contents of this book while eating or drinking could cause laughter-induced choking. Read at your own risk.

Sassy book blogger-turned-author, Kim Long, thought her life couldn’t get any pinker when she received a two-book publishing deal and a marriage proposal in the same night. The wedding plans are coming together seamlessly, from the catering to the flowers to her much-coveted appointment at the exclusive and world famous Kleinfeld Bridal. Her debut novel is flying off the shelves to celebrated reviews, and her second book is practically writing itself.

If only the above wasn’t a big fat lie.

If only Kim could drown out the conflicting opinions of her overzealous bridal party, most notably, her sister and future sister-in-law, who haven’t stopped bickering since day one.

If only everyone would adore her first book—or she’d take Nicholas’s advice and stop reading reviews—she might not second guess every new word she writes.

If only Nicholas’s past would remain there rather than threaten their future.
The pressure is on, the clock is ticking, and in walks Hannah Marshak.

Will the former “mean girl” lend a helping hand or make things worse? Will Kim ever write “The End” on her sophomore novel? And, will she and Nicholas make it down the aisle to say those two precious words: I do?

We’ll never tell. So, put on your reading glasses, fill your champagne flute/cup of tea and prepare to laugh with (and sometimes at) Kim as she rewrites her happy ending until it’s worthy of five pink champagne flutes.

Bridal Girl can stand alone, but if you haven’t read the first in my fan-favorite series, Blogger Girlyou should! I think this is my funniest book yet, but I’ll let you be the judge.

In celebration of the release, I will be hosting giveaways every Friday on my Facebook author page between now and release day (April 24th). That’s a lot of Fridays! Prizes will include e-books, printed books, gift cards, and…wait for it…a Kindle Fire with Alexa! Follow my page  so you don’t miss out! (Hint: proof of pre-order of Bridal Girl or new purchase of Blogger Girl or Novelista Girl will increase chances of winning the biggest prizes!)

I hope if you aren’t already following Kimmie’s hilarious and heartwarming journey with her sassy group of New York friends, you will jump on the series now.

Here’s what folks have said about the heroine, Kim Long:

“America finally has their own version of Britain’s Bridget Jones!”
“A witty heroine who will win your heart!”
“She’s such a fun, quirky, witty and sassy character.”
“Kimberly is adorable and so real and relatable.”
“I admire Kim’s sass and spunk.”
“Kim is such a delightful character.”
“Kim is a fabulous heroine.”
“I liked Kim and her sass.”
“Kimmie Long is a character you want to cheer for.”

Thanks for reading, and stay warm!


Release days, free days, sale days: Oh My!

Today is a big day. Huge. COLOSSAL.

It’s the release day of my fifth novel, Novelista Girl. The standalone sequel to my fan favorite third novel, Blogger Girl.

Readers first met sassy Kimberly Long in Blogger Girl, and now the feisty New Yorker is back in a sequel packed with quick wit, friendship, heartache, and of course, romance.

Kim runs the most popular chick lit book blog on the web, loves playing house with her sexy lawyer boyfriend, Nicholas, and is finally pursuing her lifelong dream to become a published author. At first glance, her life is five-pink-champagne-flutes worthy.

But is there more to the story than meets the eye?

After hearing the phrase “chick lit is dead” more times than she’s read Bridget Jones’s Diary, Kim is driven to desperate measures, seeking advice from up-and-coming chick lit author, Hannah Marshak, her high school nemesis and resident “mean girl.” As if Kim doesn’t have enough on her plate balancing her secretarial duties with her blog Pastel Is The New Black, shrugging off the growing pile of agent rejections, and keeping her best friend from turning green over Kim’s budding friendship with Hannah, Nicholas is so blinded by his career ambitions, he doesn’t see that their home sweet home could use more than a dash of sugar.

This is the year when all of Kim’s dreams—professional and romantic—are supposed to come true, but will the story have a happily ever after, or will Kim end up unpublished and all alone.

This novel can be read as a sequel or as a standalone and is best accompanied by a cocktail, preferably a pink one.

Barnes & Noble



But wait, there’s more:

My fourth novel How Do You Know? is FREE on Amazon. Yes free! It is currently number #23 in the entire FREE Kindle store and #1 in Women’s Humorous Fiction AND Coming of Age!!

Life doesn’t happen on a schedule, there are no deadlines in love, and age is just a number.

On the eve of her thirty-ninth birthday, Maggie Piper doesn’t look, act, or feel much different than she did at twenty-nine, but with her fortieth birthday speeding toward her like a freight train, she wonders if she should. The fear of a slowing metabolism, wrinkling of her skin, and the ticking of her biological clock leaves Maggie torn between a desire to settle down like most of her similarly aged peers and concern that all is not perfect in her existing relationship. When a spontaneous request for a temporary “break” from her live-in boyfriend results in a “break-up,” Maggie finds herself single once again and only twelve months from the big 4.0.

As Maggie reenters the New York City dating jungle, suitors present themselves quickly, but who is “The One?” Is he a sexy coworker, one of many bachelors at a speed-dating event, or is he the man she already set free? How do you know? Her fun-loving friends and supportive family, including meddlesome “no-filter” Aunt Helen, eagerly share their (often unsolicited) opinions, but Maggie is determined to find her own way, even if she falls on her face—repeatedly.


And finally, my bestselling debut novel, Just Friends With Benefits, is only 99 cents!

When a friend urges Stephanie Cohen not to put all her eggs in one bastard, the advice falls on deaf ears. Stephanie’s college crush on Craig Hille has been awakened thirteen years later as if soaked in a can of Red Bull and she is determined not to let the guy who got away once, get away twice. Stephanie, a 32-year-old paralegal from Washington, D.C., is a 70’s and 80’s television trivia buff who can recite the starting lineup of the New York Yankees and go beer for beer with the guys. And despite her failure to get married and pro-create prior to entering her thirties, she has so far managed to keep her overbearing mother from sticking her head in the oven. Just Friends with Benefits is the humorous story of Stephanie’s pursuit of love, her adventures in friendship, and her journey to discover what really matters


Three novels for only $3.98! It’s big, huge, COLOSSAL, but it will only last, well, a week! So grab your copies now!


my love/hate relationship with New York City

To use a phrase I’m sure you’ve never heard before, “I love New York.” Specifically, I love New York City—so much so that it’s practically a main character in three out of my four novels.

I love New York City, but there are times when living here makes me crazy and I wish I could jump into a Calgon commercial and scream, “take me away!” I just aged myself, but it’s not like you thought I was nineteen anyway…

For my latest blog post, I’ve compiled a list of my most recent grievances about The Big Apple, although I’m guessing I wouldn’t be able to avoid some of these simply by moving elsewhere.

People who walk at an excruciatingly slow pace. Not children, the elderly, or the disabled, but seemingly healthy young adults-middle age individuals who choose to move at a glacial pace even when the streets are not covered with black ice.  Not tourists who are gazing at the skyscrapers, peering into store windows, or stopped in the middle of the street to take a selfie, but actual New Yorkers who should be accustomed to the average speed of walking in the city which is significantly faster than you’d expect in say, Charleston, South Carolina or Owensboro, Kentucky. Because the sidewalks are so narrow, I literally have to jog around slow walkers sometimes unless I want to be bound to their pace indefinitely.

People who walk with their heads buried in their phones and then look bewildered when they bang into someone else or almost get hit by a car. Put your phone away for ten minutes. Your texts will be waiting for you when you arrive at your destination. So will your friend’s boring Facebook updates and the silly but addictive quizzes on Buzzfeed.

The puddles that collect on the street corners after a rainy or snowy day that are sometimes so deep, I have to walk an extra block in order to cross the street to avoid getting soaked up to my knees.

The fact that very few people make eye contact in the elevators. The majority of people are too busy robotically checking their phones or staring straight ahead to acknowledge the presence of another person. It makes me sad.

People who have loud telephone conversations in public using blue tooth and are seemingly oblivious to the fact that no one else cares what a jerk her roommate’s sister’s best friend’s boyfriend was at the party or how she’s not going to take her boyfriend back this time, even though based on her side of the conversation, she totally is.

When the local 6 train runs on the express route between 42nd and 14th street and skips my stop—33rd. I especially hate this when the announcement is not made until I’m already on the train and on the way to 14th street. There was a time when this happened every weekend for over a month and I avoided making  plans unless they were in walking distance of my apartment.

People who stop at the bottom/top of escalators in the subway system because they are catatonically focused on their iPhones. (Do you see a trend?) And sometimes, because they are just oblivious to the fact that there are people behind them waiting to step off of the elevator.

There are more, but I’ll save them for another post  🙂 What about you? Any peeves about New York City or your own home town?

I will leave you with something positive. Despite what people say about New Yorkers being cold, rude people, it’s not true. Granted, we won’t necessarily initiate conversation because, let’s be honest, there are a lot of crazy people out there, but we are almost always willing to help out a stranger. For instance, over the past few weeks, I’ve struggled to find my way in an area of the city with which I’m not familiar.  Despite using Hopstop and Google maps as directional tools, I’ve found myself lost and needing the assistance of random strangers on the street. In every instance, the person stopped in his tracks and helped guide me to my destination. And in most cases, it wasn’t simply a matter of pointing me in the right direction. Most of the time, the person had no idea where I was going either, but instead of just saying, “sorry” and moving on, they went the extra step to help me figure it out. They get extra props considering how cold it’s been outside.

And that, my friends, is one of the many reasons I love New York City.

St. Patrick’s Day Post and Excerpt

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Almost every year since my freshmen year in college, I have adopted an “Irish for One Day” existence. I have celebrated St. Patrick’s Day with gusto—from “Kegs and Eggs” parties with the boys from Tau Kappa Epsilon in college, to post-college and way post-college afternoons spent drinking pints of Guinness and doing shots of Jamesons Whiskey in pubs in New York City, Hoboken, Pearl River and Belmar. I’ve hit the parade circuit with my Irish friends, waited in very long lines at early morning hours to get into crowded bars, kissed my share of strangers (yeah, it happens) and I even got a ticket for open container drinking in the street. On March 17th, and often the weekends before and after, I’m the most Irish Jew you’ll ever meet.

Yes, I was a blonde once. Don't ask!!

Yes, I was a blonde once. Don’t ask!!

As I get older, I must confess that it’s getting harder to keep up. My colleagues poke fun that I still take the day off from work every year and it’s getting more and more annoying to have to explain to the drunk and flirtatious young men that I’m almost old enough to be their mother. I considered skipping it this year until one of my favorite Irish friends (one of my favorite friends period, actually) twisted my arm. She didn’t have to twist that hard, especially since several of my other girlfriends were game as well. So, I am about to enter dangerous territory and I’m certain that I will smell like a distillery when I get home, but this might just be my St. Patty’s swan song. Possibly I will share the events on my next blog but then again, what happens on St. Patrick’s Day stays on St. Patrick’s Day.

In this excerpt from my novel, A State of Jane, Jane finds herself in Hoboken, New Jersey in line to get into a bar on St. Patrick’s Day. Jane gets into a bit of a jam that was inspired by true events. Enjoy 🙂

Shivering, I hugged myself to keep warm. “My God! How early do you have to get here to beat the line?”

Anne pulled her green ski hat over her ears and said, “Bars open at eleven, but the locals know to get in line early.”

I looked at my watch in disbelief. “It’s only eleven-thirty! What time do people get in line?”

Applying lip balm, Bethany said, “Nine, maybe?”

“Nine last night?” I was only half joking.

“Ha ha.” Bethany handing me her lip balm. “Want some?”

As I reached for it, I heard a guy say, “Good. Keep those red lips soft and moist for kissing me later.”

I turned around and rolled my eyes at Beauty Mark Guy. He gave me a devilish grin and walked over to us. He was carrying a brown paper bag.

Trying to peek inside, Bethany said, “Whatcha got in there?”

Winking, he said, “Milk. I’m a growing boy.”

“Yeah right,” Anne said. “Got some for us?”

He looked at all three of us. “‘Cuz I’m such a nice guy…” Gesturing toward me, he said, “and you girls are so friendly, OK. But be slick.”

After Bethany and Anne each took a can of beer, he said, “If you see any sign of a cop, put the beer down on the ground and play dumb.” He looked at me and said, “You can have one too.”

Shivering, I spotted the Dunkin Donuts across the street and wished Beauty Mark Guy was offering me a thermos of white hot chocolate instead. “No thanks. I don’t drink beer.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “Why am I not surprised? Loosen up, Rainbow Brite.”

In quick defense, I said, “I am loose!” When he sneered at me, I looked down and corrected myself, muttering, “I mean, I don’t need beer to loosen up.”

Jumping to my rescue, Bethany put her arm around me and said, “Hey, be nice to my friend Jane here!” But then she gave me a serious look. “Jane, maybe you should have a beer. I’m not even sure they’ll have a full bar today. Might as well get used to beer.”

Piping in, Anne said, “After the first few, you won’t taste it anyway.”

I reluctantly reached into the bag and grabbed a cold can, but only to prove I wasn’t uptight. Not that I care what Beauty Mark Guy thinks.

He grinned and tousled my hair. “There you go, Strawberry Shortcake!” He moved closer to me and said, “We should all huddle close to hide our beers.”

“Nice try!” I said.

Moving in to make our little circle even smaller, Bethany said, “He’s right, actually.”

I pulled the tab off of my beer, praying it wouldn’t spray all over my jacket and took my first small sip. I held my hand over my mouth so no one would see me snarl involuntarily from the sour taste.

“See?” Anne said. “It’s not so bad.”

I held my breath and took another sip, this one bigger. “Not bad at all.” How many do I have to drink before I won’t taste it anymore?

About a half hour later, the line had moved about ten feet and Beauty Mark Guy, whose name was actually William, was telling us how he ran into Paula Abdul in McDonald’s the previous weekend.

“She was drunk off her ass! But I guess she was craving Mickey Dees,” he said as his friends, who had finally joined us, nodded in agreement.

“She was high on more than booze,” one of them said.

I brought my almost empty can of beer to my mouth and looked up at William.

He whispered, “Put your beer down.”

I decided he was not so bad after all. “Huh?” I glanced over at Bethany as she slipped her can of beer into the arm of her bulky wool sweater. Then, I felt a tap on my shoulder. In a slight daze, I turned around to face a blonde haired, blue-eyed guy, probably in his early thirties, in a police officer’s uniform. “Can you come over here a second?”

I looked over at the others who were watching me with concerned interest. I shrugged my shoulders, “Uh, OK.”

He stepped aside and I followed him, nervously biting my lip.

Ignoring the kids in line who had halted their own conversations to eavesdrop, he looked at the can of beer still in my hands and said, “You know an open container is prohibited outside, right?” His eyes bored into mine.

I looked down at the ground and watched my knees wobble. “Yes, officer. I’m… I’m sorry. I’ve never done this before, I promise.” I looked up into his eyes again, afraid he was going to arrest me.