Back in January Laini Taylor did a cover reveal for the last book in The Daughter of Smoke and Bone Trilogy, Dreams of Gods and Monsters.
As part of the release day promotion the first 3000 people to order the hardback from Amazon stood a chance to get a signed copy. Not just signed though – but with a drawing of the story’s main character by the author. Ha! Though the cynic in me. I’ll wait for the paperback, easier to read in the bath.
That stance lasted about two hours until I actually saw the picture Laini Taylor had drawn. Awesomeness personified. So as soon as my manager (who inconveniently sits right behind me with a clear view of my computer screen) went into a meeting I logged on to Amazon and blew that month’s book budget (I’m a bad girl. I need budget.)
All I had to do next was wait until April. Still the delivery date was in the middle of our ‘decorate the bedroom’ holiday so the book would get delivered straight to my sweaty hands rather than me having to squeeze in an expedition to the nearest Royal Mail depot.
The delivery day came. No book arrived. Turned out I’d had it delivered to my mum’s house over the bridge in Essex. So I had to wait to Saturday when, thank you fates, we were going to dinner anyway.
It has been such a long time since I’ve felt like an over excited four-year old and Christmas (about 27 years, I think) but standing in my mum’s kitchen with that book I had some serious dancing butterflies. I didn’t actually want to open the cover because I would have almost rather not known than known if I wasn’t one of those 3000. Ridiculous, right? It was like a case of Schrödinger’s signature.
I’m not a four-year old though and it wasn’t Christmas, so I did open the book…
Squeeeee! There was giggling, bouncing about. My boyfriend was torn between shook and terror. Best Easter present ever though and so worth the hardback price, and the fact that I would never risk reading this in the bath anyway.
It’s one to go with my signed copies of Equal Rites and The Red Country. I wonder if this now makes me a collector and I should make plans to stalk Neil Gaiman with my battered copy of Neverwhere thrust into my bag?
Does anyone else get this excited about getting the signature’s of their writing rock stars? Who do you love and why?