Finding Comp Titles is Hell

It is a rare day when I find a "comp title" for anything I write. For the uninitiated:

Comparison (“comp”) titles are books that are similar to yours in one of two ways: Either the content is comparable or the sales trends are expected to be similar.

Well, now, in the indie author world--at least as far as I'm concerned--when we refer to comp titles, we can omit the "sales trends are expected to be similar" part of that definition. So for me, a comp title is simply a book that is similar to mine in its content.

I have yet to find any comp titles for The Witches' Rede series books. (One of these days I ought to do a trope list for them. If you read my extras in the blog post for the final chapter of Fifty Shades of Grace, you could probably guess that one of my favorite tropes is "there was only one bed," and it pops up at some point in virtually everything I write. You can have that trope when you pry it from my cold, dead, hell-bound hands.)

I have also yet to find comp titles for Rays of Sunshine and the forthcoming (I swear, it is!) Doctor Love.

But much to my surprise, I had a book land in my lap late last year (it was gifted me by someone in a FB romance group) that is a damn near perfect comp title for Fifty Shades of Grace and its sequel (probably more the sequel than the first story).

I cannot even begin to tell you how excited I am to share this! I sincerely believed this day would never come and the last thing I ever expected was to be able to comp title a NY Times Bestseller to a silly fanfic I'm writing simply to "get it out of my system." (I have the worst feeling of foreboding that even after I finish the second story, I'll still have random scenes here and there I'll need to write with these two lunatics.)

So anyway, if you like the dynamic you've already seen between Grace and Alastor, get yourself this book and read. (Though please do check out the trigger warnings first -- Weaver gets a bit more graphic and descriptive than I ever do.) This book is gory and dark and funny and once the spice gets spicing, it spices quite spicily. 10/10.

If you can stomach what's listed in the trigger warnings (the ice cream thing wasn't even close to being that bad, imho), I recommend this book while you're waiting for my next story. I'd consider it like whetting your appetite for what's on the horizon at this blog.

You can enter to win a hardcover copy of Fifty Shades of Grace here <-- 6 days left!

You can guess the final wordcount of the next story by voting in a poll here

Second fic update:

Finding comp titles is hell. But you know what else has been hell? Chapter 21.

Chapter 21 is hell. It's been a week and I've just barely scratched the surface but I'm vowing to get it squared away this weekend.

Current word count: 72,800

Have about 1,000 words of some festive fun from the second fic (not from Chapter 21 LOL).

[...] with a hairsbreadth over a week to go, Christmas decorating at the Hazbin Hotel commenced in earnest in the wee hours of that morning. 

Not especially feeling in festive spirits, Grace hung back and watched from the bar with Husk—and a generous spread of breakfast finger-foods at which she absentmindedly picked.

Decorating began with Vaggie winding garland around the handrail on the stairs. Charlie followed, adding shiny and glittery baubles to the garland.

In the hotel’s lobby and with a typically needless, grandiose snap of his fingers, Lucifer erected a tree that made Grace think he was compensating for his stature. He waved his hand, further adorning the tree with ornaments and ribbons in the same color scheme as Charlie’s garland decorations. He snapped potted poinsettias into existence on each step of the staircase, alternating red and white with the occasional accent of faux plants that bore glittery gold bracts.

When nine AM rolled around and decorating took priority over Charlie’s daily exercises, Kofax strolled into the common area, laptop tucked beneath her right arm and a shit-eating grin lighting her face. 

“What did you do?” Husk pressed, leaning on the bar and eying the Hacker Demon warily.

Kofax laughed, setting her laptop down on the bar. “Nothing that concerns anybody here.” She stretched in front of Grace to grab something from the tray to Grace’s right. “Ooh! Blueberry muffin! Yoink!” She plopped onto the barstool to Grace’s left, stuffing the muffin in her mouth in a thoroughly uncivilized—not to mention unladylike—manner.

Angel Dust made his appearance shortly after, bursting through the front door of the hotel with Cherri Bomb on his arm. Something about the way they staggered in, laughing hysterically, made Grace think they’d both been out all night drinking.

“Oh, we’re decorating?” Cherri exclaimed. 

“Well, we are,” Vaggie replied, eyeing the drunken fools. “And we’d like for it not to get messed up.”

“Or puked on,” Lucifer added with a wary tone that matched Vaggie’s.

“Pfft, we’re not lightweights,” said Angel, straightening. Sobering with impressive speed, he pointed out, “The tree is missing its star.”

“I’ve got one we can use as a tree-topper!” Niffty chirped, jumping up and down and waving her little arms. “Lemme go get it!”

Once she disappeared into the kitchen, Grace leaned on the bar top. “Anyone else kind of expecting a train wreck?” 

“Come on, now, give the little bug a chance to pleasantly surprise us,” Cherri remarked, though the smile on her face seemed to indicate she was waiting for the very same thing Grace was.

Niffty then emerged from the kitchen, holding a five-pointed star above her head. It was clearly a charmingly handmade craft comprised of twigs, twine, and —

“Are those roaches?” Vaggie asked from her vantage point on the staircase.

“Yep!” Niffty chirped.

“That you stored in the kitchen?” Charlie asked slowly, her eyebrows pulling together.

Niffty replied with a proud grin, “Stored and made!”

Several sinners voiced their opinion in unison: “Gross.”

Grace smugly picked up her coffee mug and sipped.

Niffty ran up to Lucifer and offered it to him. Lucifer glanced helplessly at Charlie; he clearly didn’t want it on his tree. Charlie gave him a small, encouraging smile. 

Nonetheless, Lucifer told Niffty, “I’ll pass, thank you.”

Niffty pouted, her eye starting to shimmer in threat of tears.

Angel cast a disparaging glance at the King of Hell. “I can help you put that up,” he told Niffty, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her up to the tree. Even with Angel’s height, Niffty couldn’t reach the top of the tree.

“I’ll help you help her,” Cherri chimed in with a grin at Niffty. “Us one-eyed gals gotta stick together, yeah?”

Charlie looked on, a huge smile and her eyes wide. She clasped her hands together over her heart with a squeak.

Niffty climbed down Angel in favor of Cherri, who settled on his shoulders and opened her arms to help the little housekeeper up. Niffty climbed the two with ease, the three of them together tall enough to position the roach-star in its place of honor.

With the tree complete, they moved on to things like wreaths and tinsel, fairy lights and girthy cream-colored candles within hourglass-shaped hurricane glass holders, slender red vases filled with bare gilded branches and crisp white peacock feathers, and shimmering white snowflakes among metallic ornaments suspended magically from the ceiling.

Alastor popped out from his dark shadows just behind Grace’s barstool in a way that reminded her of his behavior shortly after they’d met. He leaned over her right shoulder close enough that she thought he’d brushed it and plucked an apple turnover from the platter of pastries.

Husk eyed him warily and asked, “Where’ve you been all morning? As the facilities manager, shouldn’t you be helping decorate?”

“I was no place that concerns you,” Alastor answered, surprisingly unbothered. He spared a glance at Grace. “Nor does it concern you.”

“Excuse me, did I ask?” she replied, leaning away from him with a frown.

“Not yet. I was just saying so preemptively.”

Agitated with his greeting, Grace glanced at the pastry in his hand. “There’s no meat in that, y’know.”

He took a bite, thought about it for a few moments as he chewed and swallowed. “It’s apple,” said Alastor with an aloof shrug. “Still good.”

Grace suspected that was the deer part of him talking. She caught his gaze, held it for a few moments. He straightened, his smile widening and eyes crinkling in their outer corners. And there it was; he found a way to look even more adorable.

Her chest warmed, internal voice shrieking like a fangirl at a New Kids on the Block concert.

In Grace’s peripheral vision, Kofax watched with an exceptionally toothy grin, a grin like she knew the dik dik demon had regressed to fangirling internally over Alastor.

Until next week, deer friends!