Social Media Collection Blitz

Social Media
JA Huss
Publication date: August 15th 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

When Grace @FilthyBlueBird tweeted her dirtiest, most delicious secret desires to MovieStar @VaughnAsher she never expected a reply, let alone a face-to-face meeting and an offer of a lifetime.

And when MovieStar @VaughnAsher figured out the woman vacationing at his family’s St. Thomas resort was the author of all those dirty hashtags she was relentlessly tweeting at him… well, that was a challenge he couldn’t pass up. He was more than happy to #RockHerFilthyWorld.

@FilthyBlueBird’s online fantasy is about to collide with her real-life reality. And it’s about to happen now.

What started out as a fun, filthy tweet turned into the romance of a lifetime. If—that is—your idea of romance is the #asshole real-life persona of a kinky off-screen control freak.

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EXCERPT:

GRACE @FilthyBlueBird

I can’t stand silence, it drives me crazy. So I’m a talker. I’m a gabber. I’m what they call… social. I pin things, I share things, I plus things. I like, I follow, and I comment.

But most of all… I tweet. I’m a tweeter. I live for the Twitter. I chirp good morning like a little blue bird from my bed in the AM and then chirp good evening again every night.

Even before social media took over the world I was this girl. From my very first year I have been one of those butterflies. Yes—I’m putting my hand up to stop the protests—my very first year. Because my first birthday picture was of me whispering a secret into my big brother’s ear.

And after social media took over the world I embraced this girl. My bestie, Bebe, and I have this whole social thing down to a science. We are the champions of chatter, the proponents of prattle, the backers of blather. We are the goddesses of gossip and we own this shit. We take bubbly optimism to a whole new virtual level. Our motto is Happiness is a #Hashtag and we live life knowing the fairy tale is possible, even if you only get it online.

Who needs reality anyway? Reality is being orphaned at thirteen. Reality is foster homes and loneliness. Reality is a risk ripe for disappointment.

But thank God for Bebe and her family. They welcomed me in with open arms and instead of something tragic, I became the poster child for surviving and came out the other end not only intact, but better than ever.

But back to my mouth—and by extension, my fingertips since they do all my talking on Twitter—it has a mind of its own.

And that mind is very dirty.

Yes, my name is Grace Kinsella and I’m a filthy tweeter.

I can turn a hundred and forty characters into living sex. I can string words together in a way that will make you wet your panties with lust. I can make a man blush before he even gets to the hashtag. I am famous for pithy filth.

In fact, my girlfriends and I have an online Facebook group called the Filthy Blue Birds. And we’re not the only ones. The world of pithy filth is booming, friends. There are endless groups like ours. There are legions of shy girls who come alive when faced with the hundred-and-forty-character challenge. And there is a very special place online where we meet, challenging each other to achieve a new level of smexy typing.

I call that Twitter list Dirty Heaven. I made it up, like literally I’m the freaking founder. So Dirty Heaven is my kingdom and I’m the queen.

I’ll stop here to take a bow.

Besides being a list, Dirty Heaven is an online competition that happens on Twitter every Saturday night across the world—yes, we have filthy tweeters from all walks of life. At 8 PM Eastern the FT’s come alive and each league puts up their best and brightest. You get one tweet, one hashtag, and one chance to shine.

I don’t win anymore, it’s simply not fair. I’m now the judge. But back when we were first putting this together my tweets took me to Dirty Heaven time after time after time. That’s back when we used to have the competitions nightly and the group was small. Just fifteen or twenty of my closest online stranger friends. Each competition we had an online muse and we took turns choosing who would benefit from our blush-inducing prose. Sometimes the girls picked models or rock stars.

I only ever had one muse and his name is Vaughn Asher.

Yes, the Vaughn Asher. A Hollywood legend. He started out in the boy band 2 Far Out, then when his angelic voice changed as he hit puberty he graduated into Disney sitcoms. Most child actors would fade after that, never able to make the transition. But Vaughn Asher doubled down on the workouts—gaining the title of Most Envied Body in Hollywood six years in a row from Buzz Hollywood Magazine—and the preteen wannabe turned into an action-hero heartthrob overnight.

Just thinking his name makes me sigh. He’s so freaking gorgeous. That messy dark hair that makes him look like he just rolled out of bed. Those tight abs that just make you want to drag your tongue all over them to see if they taste as good as they look. And that package, boy. He’s never done any nudes so I have to use my imagination, but my imagination is vivid. I have a very clear picture.

Besides, you know what they say about a man’s thumbs, right? Well, Vaughn Asher has incredible thumbs. And large feet. They say that too.

Yes, doing filthy things to his six-foot-two frame has been my idea of Dirty Heaven for almost three years now. I’d like to say I’ve said everything imaginable about him, but that’s not true. I never run out of ideas. It’s like my brain only exists to compose a one-hundred-and-forty-character sentence that will turn him red.

That’s my fantasy. That’s my fairy tale. Vaughn Asher doing things to me that can only be said in a hashtag.

Author Bio:

JA Huss is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than fifty books. She likes stories about family, loyalty, and extraordinary characters who struggle with basic human emotions while dealing with bigger than life problems. JA loves writing heroes who make you swoon, heroines who makes you jealous, and the perfect Happily Ever After ending.

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MEDIA KIT – SOCIAL MEDIA – JA HUSS Social Media By JA Huss Contemporary Romance Published: August 15, 2017 Paperback ISBN: 978-1-944475-28-4 Ebook ISBN: 978-1-944475-27-7 DESCRIPTION When Grace @FilthyBlueBird tweeted her dirtiest, most delicious secret desires to MovieStar @VaughnAsher she never expected a reply, let alone a face-to-face meeting and an offer of a lifetime. And when MovieStar @VaughnAsher figured out the woman vacationing at his family’s St. Thomas resort was the author of all those dirty hashtags she was relentlessly tweeting at him… well, that was a challenge he couldn’t pass up. He was more than happy to #RockHerFilthyWorld. @FilthyBlueBird’s online fantasy is about to collide with her real-life reality. And it’s about to happen now. What started out as a fun, filthy tweet turned into the romance of a lifetime. If—that is—your idea of romance is the #asshole real-life persona of a kinky off-screen control freak. LINKS AMAZON: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074P6MFGX IBOOKS: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1269626272 NOOK: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/social-media-ja-huss/1126953923?ean=2940158761607 KOBO: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/social-media-23 AMAZON UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Social-Media-JA-Huss-ebook/dp/B074P6MFGX AMAZON CA: https://www.amazon.ca/Social-Media-JA-Huss-ebook/dp/B074P6MFGX AMAZON AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/d/Social-Media-JA-Huss-ebook/B074P6MFGX SHORT LINKS AMAZON: http://amzn.to/2hO9dO8 IBOOKS: http://apple.co/2wLAq6x NOOK: http://bit.ly/2vmtFKJ KOBO: http://bit.ly/2vSxXe6 AMAZON UK: http://amzn.to/2fvaqt1 AMAZON CA: http://amzn.to/2vSzP6D AMAZON AU: http://amzn.to/2usN6P4 AUTHOR LINKS: JA Huss is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than fifty books. She likes stories about family, loyalty, and extraordinary characters who struggle with basic human emotions while dealing with bigger than life problems. JA loves writing heroes who make you swoon, heroines who makes you jealous, and the perfect Happily Ever After ending. NEWSLETTER➔http://eepurl.com/JVhAr PRIVATE FAN GROUP➔http://on.fb.me/1oaw5js WEBSITE➔http://bit.ly/1Wua4Rs PERSONAL FB PROFILE➔http://on.fb.me/1P7Z485 AMAZON FOLLOW➔http://amzn.to/1fuFweP TWITTER➔https://twitter.com/JAHuss PINTEREST➔ http://bit.ly/1OakX5v INSTAGRAM➔ http://bit.ly/1QCqjZ0 GIVEAWAY – $25 Gift Card, Signed Paperback, and a Social Media Swag Set Ends August 21, 2015 a Rafflecopter giveaway

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EXCERPT ONE:
GRACE @FilthyBlueBird

I can’t stand silence, it drives me crazy. So I’m a talker. I’m a gabber. I’m what they call… social. I pin things, I share things, I plus things. I like, I follow, and I comment.
But most of all… I tweet. I’m a tweeter. I live for the Twitter. I chirp good morning like a little blue bird from my bed in the AM and then chirp good evening again every night.
Even before social media took over the world I was this girl. From my very first year I have been one of those butterflies. Yes—I’m putting my hand up to stop the protests—my very first year. Because my first birthday picture was of me whispering a secret into my big brother’s ear.
And after social media took over the world I embraced this girl. My bestie, Bebe, and I have this whole social thing down to a science. We are the champions of chatter, the proponents of prattle, the backers of blather. We are the goddesses of gossip and we own this shit. We take bubbly optimism to a whole new virtual level. Our motto is Happiness is a #Hashtag and we live life knowing the fairy tale is possible, even if you only get it online.
Who needs reality anyway? Reality is being orphaned at thirteen. Reality is foster homes and loneliness. Reality is a risk ripe for disappointment.
But thank God for Bebe and her family. They welcomed me in with open arms and instead of something tragic, I became the poster child for surviving and came out the other end not only intact, but better than ever.
But back to my mouth—and by extension, my fingertips since they do all my talking on Twitter—it has a mind of its own.
And that mind is very dirty.
Yes, my name is Grace Kinsella and I’m a filthy tweeter.
I can turn a hundred and forty characters into living sex. I can string words together in a way that will make you wet your panties with lust. I can make a man blush before he even gets to the hashtag. I am famous for pithy filth.
In fact, my girlfriends and I have an online Facebook group called the Filthy Blue Birds. And we’re not the only ones. The world of pithy filth is booming, friends. There are endless groups like ours. There are legions of shy girls who come alive when faced with the hundred-and-forty-character challenge. And there is a very special place online where we meet, challenging each other to achieve a new level of smexy typing.
I call that Twitter list Dirty Heaven. I made it up, like literally I’m the freaking founder. So Dirty Heaven is my kingdom and I’m the queen.
I’ll stop here to take a bow.
Besides being a list, Dirty Heaven is an online competition that happens on Twitter every Saturday night across the world—yes, we have filthy tweeters from all walks of life. At 8 PM Eastern the FT’s come alive and each league puts up their best and brightest. You get one tweet, one hashtag, and one chance to shine.
I don’t win anymore, it’s simply not fair. I’m now the judge. But back when we were first putting this together my tweets took me to Dirty Heaven time after time after time. That’s back when we used to have the competitions nightly and the group was small. Just fifteen or twenty of my closest online stranger friends. Each competition we had an online muse and we took turns choosing who would benefit from our blush-inducing prose. Sometimes the girls picked models or rock stars.
I only ever had one muse and his name is Vaughn Asher.
Yes, the Vaughn Asher. A Hollywood legend. He started out in the boy band 2 Far Out, then when his angelic voice changed as he hit puberty he graduated into Disney sitcoms. Most child actors would fade after that, never able to make the transition. But Vaughn Asher doubled down on the workouts—gaining the title of Most Envied Body in Hollywood six years in a row from Buzz Hollywood Magazine—and the preteen wannabe turned into an action-hero heartthrob overnight.
Just thinking his name makes me sigh. He’s so freaking gorgeous. That messy dark hair that makes him look like he just rolled out of bed. Those tight abs that just make you want to drag your tongue all over them to see if they taste as good as they look. And that package, boy. He’s never done any nudes so I have to use my imagination, but my imagination is vivid. I have a very clear picture.
Besides, you know what they say about a man’s thumbs, right? Well, Vaughn Asher has incredible thumbs. And large feet. They say that too.
Yes, doing filthy things to his six-foot-two frame has been my idea of Dirty Heaven for almost three years now. I’d like to say I’ve said everything imaginable about him, but that’s not true. I never run out of ideas. It’s like my brain only exists to compose a one-hundred-and-forty-character sentence that will turn him red.
That’s my fantasy. That’s my fairy tale. Vaughn Asher doing things to me that can only be said in a hashtag.

EXCERPT TWO:
Movie Star @VaughnAsher

She stops and turns. “Why? Why do you give a shit about me? Just stop and leave me alone. I’m not interested in feeding some sick pathology—”
“I’m not sick. It’s not sick to have a full, enriching sexual fantasy. I—”
“See,” she says cutting me off. “You’re so fucking self-absorbed, you assume I’m talking about you. But I’m not, OK? Did it ever occur to you that I have my own reasons for saying no? Reasons that have nothing to do with you.”
What?
“And you’re so fucking clueless. Trust? You’re telling me to trust you when you’ve never earned it. Why the fuck should I trust you? Who the hell are you? I mean, yeah, I admit I’ve stalked you relentlessly online. I’ve tweeted shit about you that would make porn stars blush. And it would be very easy to just let you fuck me sideways, as you put it, and then walk away with the movie-star feather in my cap. But Jesus Christ, Asher. You’re an Oscar-winning prick.”
I laugh. I can’t help it.
“I’m glad you think that’s funny.” And then she turns and starts her trek down the beach, muttering out, “Asshole.”
I run to catch up to her and then I grab her arm. She pulls away, dropping her shoes and lifting her hands up in some kind of fake karate stance. “Don’t,” she orders. “Back off. I’m a certified Tae Bo specialist at the Women’s Health Spa in LoDo. And I’m warning you, I will not be held responsible—”
“Tae Bo? What the fuck—”
“Yah!” She smacks me in the neck with the side of her hand and I grasp my throat, gasping for air. “Tae Bo!” she screams as I fall to my knees and choke. “Oh, shit, Asher! I’m sorry! I’ve never done that to a real person before! Are you OK?”
I lower my head and try not to laugh, because holy shit, she totally got me.
“Asher? Asher? Oh my God, talk to me!” She kneels down in front of me and starts shaking my shoulders. “Asher!”
I take a long breath of air, let my heart rate settle, and then I look up and grab her lethal little wrists, forcing her down to the sand, and pinning them above her head as I move my body over the top of hers. “You wanna play hardball, Hit-Girl?”
She giggles up at me and my dick is hard again. Fuck. She’s all over the place tonight.
“I’m the master, Asher. I’m the master of playing games. So if you want to play with me, you should keep that in mind.”
“You”—I lean down into her face and stare her in the eyes—“are not the master. I’m the fucking master. You got that? And if you call me Asher one more time, I’ll make you pay for it later.”
“Oh, yeah? How?” She bites her lip as she waits for my answer and I realize what she’s doing. Evening out the playing field. Asserting control over her decision. Making me realize that if she gives in, it’s because she wants to give in and not because she’s forced.
I can’t ask for anything more, so I silently accept her terms and move the game forward. “I’ll spank you. Hard. Hard enough to make you cry and erotic enough to make you come.”

EXCERPT THREE:
Movie Star @VaughnAsher

“Fuck,” she huffs. “What the hell do you want from me, Vaughn? It’s not enough that you insulted me with your NDA, your money drops in my bank account, the public fucking on the island, the humiliation of making me blow you in my hallway, making me eat out of your hand as I sit at your feet, and then having to watch one of your many whores on TV tell me I’m breaking up her relationship. For Christ’s sake, what more do you want to do to me?”
“It’s pretty clear all that makes me a monster, right?”
“How the fuck could it not?”
“Did you like the sex, Grace? And be honest.”
“Yeah, I liked the sex. But a relationship is more than your stupid sex games, Vaughn. Life is more than the fun stuff. Life is the serious stuff too. And I don’t think you do the serious stuff. I like the fun just as much as anyone, but it’s another lie. Because if we were together, then most of our time would be spent having regular sex. Doing things like working, and cooking, and all that stupid bullshit that comes with a relationship.”
“How would you even know what comes with a relationship?”
“Says the fucking kettle to the pot!”
“Have you ever had a normal relationship? A long-term one?”
“Have you?”
“No!” I shout, making her jump. “No,” I repeat, softer this time. “That’s my whole fucking point. I want all that boring stuff and I want to try it with you. And you’re what? Too fucked up to even hear me? Should I just put you to bed and try this conversation again in the morning when you’re sober and rational?”
“I’m not drunk. I’m just angry.”
“With who, though? Me? Because of the girl on TV telling lies about me? Because of all the fantastic sex we had? Because I gave you money to donate to your favorite charities? Because I won you in a game of baccarat? I mean, what exactly is pissing you off here?”
She laughs. Her whole body shakes against mine and she laughs. “You won me?”
“Oh, please, don’t take that the wrong way. Of course it was fake, Grace. A symbolic gesture between me and that Li character you were attached to at the hip. So spare me your feminist self-righteous bullshit. I can’t take anymore. You have no idea what you want. You want the fairy tale? The prince, the money, the fantastic vacations and travel? Private jets, probably. That’s fairy tale stuff. Stuff I can actually give you. So you say you want all that, but then when I offer it up, I’m using you. I’m disrespecting you. I’m—what were your words on the island?—I’m an Oscar-winning prick.” I let go of her and push her off me. “Just shut the hell up with your conflicting emotions for once, Grace. Give in and say yes. You never want to say yes.”
“God, how can you even say that?” She crosses her arms in front of her and rubs her shoulders, like she’s chilled. “I never say no. I always say yes. You’re the only person ever who makes me want to say no.”

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