Author: Danielle Bannister
Page count: 234
Genre: Romance/Mature Young Adult
Price: $2.99 Kindle/$9.99 paperback
Danielle Bannister has her BA in theatre and is currently a work from home mother of two. Her days are filled working on her masters and the sequel to Pulled, entitled Pulled Back. Her short stories can be found in the 2012 Goose River Anthology, The Maine Writing Projects Anthology, Writeous, as well as her collection Short Shorts.
Tell us about your book:
Naya Adams has given up on feeling loved. A walking cliché, Naya lost her parents in a freak car accident at thirteen and has been living with her detached foster ‘adults’ ever since. When Naya enrolls in one of the most respected theatre programs in New England, she is more than eager to trade in her pain for the spotlight. College would finally be the fresh start she’d longed for.
Accustomed to emotional numbness, Naya enters her first acting class, unaware of what was waiting on the other side of the door: her Twin Flame. Rarer and more intense than soul mates, Twin Flames search for centuries looking for their other half. It is in another student, an olive-skinned and terribly scarred sophomore named Etash, that Naya will discover what being loved really means.
Although they both try to resist each other, their bond is ultimately too strong. Together they’ll learn that this is not the first time they have been pulled together, nor will it be their last.
But how will her abuser react to Naya’s new flame?
How long did it take to write the book?
3 years! I was homeschooling my two young children at the time so it took way longer than it should have!
What inspired you to write the book?
I had a image in my head of two people stuck in a lightning storm, each being pulled up into the night sky, reaching out to one another. That scene isn’t in the book, but the feeling of the book is that one image. I had never written a word before, so it started out as a short story for fun, but then I let a friend read it and she begged me to keep going, so I did.
Talk about the writing process. Did you have a writing routine? Did you do any research, and if so, what did that involve?
My writing process is easy, yet hard all at the same time. It is this: sit your butt in the chair and write. It sounds so simple and is one of the hardest things I have to do. Writing for me is a guilty pleasure. I always feel guilty writing thinking I should be doing something else with my time, like housework or studing for a class, so trying to separate myself from that guilt and just sitting down to do it is by far the hardest part. That said, I have read a TON of books on writing trying to find a way that works best for me, and they all say the same thing. You just have to sit down and do it.
What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book?
I hope they come away believing that love like the one I talk about can happen. That there is hope for all of us helpless romantics.
Where can we go to buy your book?
Any other links or info you’d like to share?
I have a website you can check out about my daily musing as a writer. http://daniellebannister.wordpress.com/
Excerpt from book:
There is nothing unusual about how he enters the room, unless you notice his dark eyes glued to the floor, which I do.
I am instantly struck by how uncomfortable he seems to be. His shoulders are slumped so low that it looks like he’s trying to crawl inside his shirt. He grabs a seat in the front of the room, diagonally from where I sit, his left side facing the wall.
Needing something to do with my hands, I push up the sleeves of my deep plum v-neck. The dark color does nothing to hide my overt paleness, but I haven’t worn light colors since… well, a long time.
Several minutes pass and we remain the only two in the room. I feel like I should introduce myself, or at least say ‘hi,’ but there is something about the way he sits in his chair that makes me hold my tongue. It’s as though he’s willing himself to blend in with the room and not be noticed. I can respect that; I want the same thing.
Picking up my book again, I try to move my eyes back to the page, but no matter how hard I try, they disobey me. They stay transfixed to the back of his dark, curly hair; mesmerized.
Perhaps it’s because I have never seen someone with his exact coloring before. It isn’t tan. No, definitely not tan, but more, what, olive? Is he Asian? No. Middle-Eastern? Indian?
I want desperately for him to turn his head, just a little, so I can get a glimpse of this person from whom I can’t manage to pull my gaze. But he holds his focus on a book he’s drumming his thumb on. Curious to know what he’s reading, my eyes allow a quick move towards the cover. It looks familiar–really familiar. No way. He’s reading Romeo & Juliet too. I actually laugh out loud. No, laugh is too polite a word. I guffawed. His dark eyes turn over his shoulder, ever so slightly, to glare at me. The girl who is openly laughing at him. Shit.