Vanni: A Groupie Saga Prequel by Ginger Voight is LIVE! I absolutely LOVE this rock romance series. I am reading Vanni right now. Look for my review later this week.
Check out Ginger's FREE book offerings and giveaway below!
Blurb:
Before the groupies. Before the stardom. He was, simply, Vanni.
Giovanni Carnevale knows what it means to struggle. Since his father abandoned the family when he was a child, Vanni’s been in and out of trouble, trying to carve his place in the world. That all changes when he moves to Brooklyn, to live with his beloved great Aunt Susan.
After introducing Vanni to music, Susan realizes his talent and pushes him to reach his full potential. But her sudden death leaves him adrift, unable to connect with anyone, friends and girlfriends alike. His personal life slowly deteriorating, Vanni focuses on his music and dream of being a rock star. After so many betrayals, he’s determined to keep everyone who might hurt him at arm’s length—at the time people want him the most.
You already know how his story ends. Now read how it begins with VANNI: A PREQUEL.
Ginger Voight takes us back to where it all began, with an intimate look at one of your favorite book boyfriends—from his perspective.
Vanni Buy Links:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1LsZ7Zf
itunes: http://apple.co/1eieDtl
smashwords: http://bit.ly/1Km2hvQ
kobo: http://bit.ly/1GF5PUY
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B&N: not available yet
Facebook Event: http://on.fb.me/1LyhY69
FREE BOOKS FROM GINGER!
1st Books in these Series are FREE!
Groupie: http://amzn.to/1ApRpZt - FREE
Fierce: http://amzn.to/1DxVazM - FREE
Southern Rocker Boy: http://amzn.to/1EZGtlW - FREE
Enticed: http://amzn.to/1FAhtWe - FREE
Ginger Voight is a screenwriter and bestselling author with over twenty published titles in fiction and nonfiction. She covers everything from travel to politics in nonfiction, as well as romance, paranormal, and dark, “ripped from the headlines” topics like Dirty Little Secrets.
Ginger discovered her love for writing in sixth grade, courtesy of a Halloween assignment. From then on, writing became a place of solace, reflection, and security. This was never more true than when she found herself homeless in L.A. at the age of nineteen. There, she wrote her first novel, longhand on notebook paper, while living out of her car.
In 1995, after she lost her nine-day-old son, she worked through her grief by writing the story that would eventually become The Fullerton Family Saga.
In 2011, she embarked on a new journey–to publish romance novels starring heroines who look more like the average American woman. These “Rubenesque” romances have developed a following thanks to her bestselling Groupie series. Other titles, such as the highly-rated New Adult series, Fierce, tap into the “reality-TV” preoccupation in American entertainment, which gives her contemporary stories a current, pop culture edge.
Known for writing gut-twisting angst, Ginger isn’t afraid to push the envelope with characters who are perfectly imperfect. Whether rich, poor, sweet, selfish, gay, straight, plus-size or svelte, her characters are beautifully flawed and three-dimensional. They populate her lavish fictional landscapes and teach us more about the real world in which we live simply through their interactions with each other. Ginger’s goal with every book is to give the reader a little bit more than they were expecting, told through stories they’ll never forget.
GIVEAWAY:
Signed paperbacks of The Groupie Trilogy -- Ships to US only
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Excerpt:
When I get back to the neighborhood, I can’t even go home. I head to my local haunt, Fritz’s, for a beer. The cute black waitress is there, as is a heavier girl with a shock of red hair and tattoos along her chest and arms. She wears black-framed glasses, and when she smiles it makes me smile too.
As different as she is from her bartender, I find this other girl just as cute. Of course, that’s
usually how it is with me. Call me a romantic, but I’ve always found women fascinating, like mysterious puzzles that are so much fun to unlock. I’m an Italian, for fuck’s sake. This is what we do. We appreciate the finer things in life, those beautiful things that make life worth living. For me that has always been wine, women and song.
Like ol’ George Thorogood, I like ‘em all. Tall girls. Skinny girls. Curvy girls. Blondes, brunettes and redheads, and girls of every race. They can be tattooed or plain, serious or silly, but every single one of them shines like a diamond when they smile, or their eyes flash, or they walk by in a perfume-scented breeze. Their curves invite to be held. Their voices invite to be heard. Their skin begs to be touched. Far too many guys don’t get this. They see women as paper dolls to collect, pretty or perfect little badges of honor they wear with pride.
The way I see it, every single woman is pretty if you know where to look, and I don’t mind
looking. Nothing has ever meant more to me than finding that treasure everyone else forgot. I was the kid who would send anonymous valentine’s cards to the girls in my class I knew wouldn’t get any otherwise. Their smile was often reward enough. A girl is always prettiest when she knows she’s appreciated.
This new girl takes my order as I perch on one of the barstools. I get the feeling she hasn’t been appreciated for a long, long time. “You’re new here,” I say, still wearing my smile from before.
I can tell from the sparkle in her eye that she likes what she sees. “Not so new. It’s my dad’s bar. He’s finally decided I’m old enough to work in it. Happy thirtieth birthday to me.”
I laugh as I reach across the bar. “Nice to meet you. I’m Giovanni. Friends call me Vanni.”
“Pam,” she says. I like the way that sounds. Sweet and simple, like swinging on a hammock on a
perfect summer afternoon. “What can I get you?”
I lean forward, my arms crossed over each other. “Let’s test your muster behind the bar. Guess.”
She laughs. It’s a hearty, robust sound. Like music. “Challenge accepted.” She turns her back for a moment and then returns with my favorite beer on tap.
I take a sip. It’s right on the money. “Okay, I was kidding. How did you do that?”
She shrugs with another smile. “No big deal. That’s our most popular beer with the regulars. Local brewery and all that.”
“And here I thought you were psychic,” I say as I bestow a cocky smirk. “I was going to ask you what to do with my future and everything.”
“Oh yeah?” she says as she leans across the bar to face me. “Life got you down, gorgeous?”
I shrug. “Torn by what I want to do and what I need to do.”
She laughs. “I know what that’s like,” she says.
“Oh yeah?” I echo. She nods. I rest my chin on my hand. “So what did little Pam want to be when she grew up?” She laughs more. I love the sound. It makes me happier just to hear it. “First of all, I’ve never been little. Secondly, I’m not telling you because it’s silly.”
“Well, now I gotta hear it.” She shakes her head, giggling to herself. “Tell me.”
She leans towards me, to whisper as loud as she can over the jukebox in the corner. “Fine. But if
you laugh, I’ll charge you double.” I lock my lips with an imaginary key and toss it over my shoulder.
She glances both ways before she leans even closer. She smells like peonies. “I wanted to be a Rockette.”
I immediately purse my lips so that I don’t laugh. She reaches for her water nozzle and sprays me.
I laugh as I reach for a stack of napkins to dry myself.
“Okay, hot shot. What did you want to be?”
I smile. I’m having a good time. The best time I’ve had in quite a while, in fact. “Guess.”
Her big green eyes travel over me. “Well, lemme see. You’re dressed like a corporate flunkie, but
you have hair straight out of the 1980s. Those soulful brown eyes tell me you’re generally up to no good.” I can’t help but chuckle. “And that mouth is pure sex. I can so see it just behind a microphone.”
My eyes widen. “Okay, you’re kind of freaking me out a little, Pam.”
“Come on, dude. Look at you. Who would you be if it wasn’t a rock star?”
I sigh and take another swig of beer. “That’s what I keep asking myself.”
“So what’s stopping you?”
I shake my head. I can’t even remember anymore. I open my mouth to talk about my aunt, but I can’t yet. The pain is too fresh. “I’m twenty-six. I have a house. I have two jobs. I have a girlfriend.”She nods. She gets it now. “Let me guess. Your girl doesn’t want to share you with the world.”
“My girl doesn’t think I’ll get that far.”
“Well, that’s kind of shitty.”
My eyes dart to hers. I’m surprised by her reaction. “She just wants us to be practical. It’s really hard to make it. I mean, when did you give up on your dream to be a dancer?”
She shrugs. “I’m not sure that I ever gave it up entirely. It’d be a sad existence if we give up hope in our dreams.” I continue to stare at her, waiting for her answer. “I don’t know,” she finally says. “It just
ceased being a priority, I guess. It just fell further and further down the list until it slipped off of it entirely. I don’t think I even noticed. In fact, I kind of forgot about it until you asked.”
That instantly depresses me to hear it. “So what are you going to do about it?”
“Depends. What are you going to do about it?”
I smile. She reminds me a lot of my aunt, but for once it doesn’t hurt. I hold up a finger,
indicating I need a minute. I reach into my pocket and pull out some money for the jukebox. She watches
as I peruse the selection, and then Queen’s ode to fat, luscious bottoms blasts from the speakers. She
laughs as she realizes what I pick. I wear a smile as I walk back to the bar, my hand outstretched. “I’m going to ask you to dance.”
