Amy Lane's Blog: Writer's Lane, page 109

Reasons I'm a bad Mom

Squish: Mom, I lost a tooth!  Do you want to hear the story?

Me: Sure.

Squish: Chatter chatter chatter AND THERE WERE EPIC AMOUNTS OF BLOOD!

Me: That's AWESOME! That's a good tooth story.

Squish: Thanks-- is the tooth fairy going to come.

Me: Uhm, I think the tooth fairy needs to walk from the hallway to your bed for that to happen.

Squish: *suspiciously*  Why can't she fly?

Me: Because there's a ceiling fan, and she will get chopped in half. 

Squish: *not buying it for a minute*  Ooooh… That's a good one. Good thinking mom-- ceiling fan.

 (btw-- Squish is nine-- most kids lose all their teeth by seven. Tonight, when we were letting our kids watch the way-the-fuck age inappropriate Bones, they talked about how the parents were going to play the tooth fairy. At the end of the show, Squish gave me a SEE!!! sort of snort, and a "I knew you were bullshitting me" glare.  I tried-- that's all I got.)

But continuing on…

Squish: Yeah, losing the tooth was good. *her voice drops* But this morning Connor…

Now I have heard of Connor. He's a real charmer-- he beats her at foursquare by cheating, shouts mean things at her on the playground, and when she picks up his pencil after he drops it, he throws it away. I know he's probably some mother's son, but I hate the little turdwhacker and I hope he loses his adult teeth at the age of ten by running into a pole. Did we mention this post is about why I'm a bad mom?

And once again, continuing on…

Me: *dangerously*  What did Connor do?

Squish: He invented the Squish-touch.

Me: *stunned* Like the cheese-touch, in Diary of a Wimpy Kid? Where anyone who touches the cheese is stinky and shunned?

Squish: Yeah.

And she was so happy, and this hurts her so bad.

Me:  Well, the next time Connor talks about the "Squish touch" you tell him this for me. You tell him that he is a sad little person, and that he is going to die in his thirties after having accomplished nothing, and he will be bald and unpopular and nobody in his life will love him, and in the meantime, you will have gone to Europe and changed the planet. And in the meantime, you don't have to put up with his bullshit because you are a better person than he is and always will be.

Squish; Mom!  *she laughs* I can't remember all of that!

Me: Tell him he's bullshit. Use the word. And be sure to have the yard duty call me if you get in trouble.

Squish: *quiet* Thanks mom.

Me: You're my beautiful Squishy. This kid is a cockroach. Believe it.

And there you go. All the reasons I'm a bad mother.

Two things-- maybe three

Okay-- so thing one:

The kids had a dentist appointment today, and I felt really bad about that.

Seriously-- it was their day off--when the receptionist (whom I love) called me yesterday to remind me, the first thing I said was, "Oh my God-- I did that? I suck!"

Anyway-- I also wanted to work out, and I thought-- thought mind you, that I could go to the 12:30 class, get out at 1:30, hot tub until 1:40, shower, and be home by 2:05.  Which would have been a fantastic plan, but the hot tub was so warm and it was around fifty degrees outside, and by the time I padded across the freezing concrete, I was running about 10 minutes late.

And I'd forgotten to be specific about, "You guys need to be dressed with your teeth brushed by two o'clock so all I have to do is shoo you into the car!"

So, I ran into the house at 2:15, shouting, "You have three minutes to be dressed with your teeth brushed and get in the car!"

It took them four.

I was stunned.  But now that I know what they're capable of, I'm not taking any more excuses for an hour lead time!

We made it to the dentist office at 2:30 exactly. Go kids!

*  *  *

And the second thing…

So, I know it's not out yet-- I don't even have a buy link yet-- but Winter Ball is already getting some awesome attention from high places!

THIS review appeared last week in Publisher's Weekly,  and although I'd love to see them review something like Chase in Shadow, I think we can take it to mean this book is happy. It's sweet, and it won't rip your heart to ribbons, and in that case, it's a good thing. I mean, dudes-- for a Christmas story, the Amy Lane alternative to "sweet wish fulfillment" is something like, Mourning Heaven: The Prequel-- the First Christmas Without Michael which sounds like a Christmas laugh riot, right? So I think we can agree that for Amy Lane yellow, this review tells us all we need to know.

Except whether or not we really want to read it-- which this review happens to do!

 I have a screen shot of it-- appears in the January edition of RT Book Reviews


And I'm thrilled.  It's an awesome review-- and getting a Top Pick is a big deal!  Bells of Times Square was a Top Pick (I know it shows 4* there, but in the magazine listing it's listed as a 4 1/2 star books-- that's as high as they go!)

And the thing that I think thrills me most about this little book getting such big attention is that it's a little story, with small time heroes-- and it's a happy story, with lots of humor.  It's sweet, and it has a cat and guys who play rec league together and if I could manage to make them real and immediate and important, well then, I've done everything I've ever wanted to as a writer.

So I'm proud. And champing at the bit-- we don't even get a buy link until November 24th, and darn it! I want you all to read it now!

A Few Old Things Made New

Bound: Volume 1
Bound: Volume 1

by Amy Lane

Humans have the option of separation, divorce, and heartbreak. For Corinne Carol-Anne Kirkpatrick, sorceress and queen of the vampires, the choices are limited to love or death. Now that she is back at Green’s Hill and assuming her duties as leader, her life is, at best, complicated. Bracken and Nicky are competing for her affections, Green is away taking care of his people, and a new supernatural enemy is threatening the sanctity of all she has come to love. Throw in a family reunion gone bad, a supernatural psychiatrist, and a killer physics class, and Cory’s life isn’t just complex, it’s psychotic. 

Cory needs to get her act and her identity together, and soon, because the enemy she and her lovers are facing is a nightmare that doesn’t just kill people, it unmakes them. If she doesn’t figure out who she is and what her place is on Green’s Hill, it’s not just her life on the line. She knows from hard experience that the only thing worse than facing death is facing the death of someone she loves. 

Loving people is easy—living with them is what takes the real work, and it’s even harder if you’re bound.

*  *  *

 So, the third book of The Little Goddess series is being re-released-- Bound: Volume 1.  I love these covers-- and of course, seeing the books come out again, and seeing new people learn to love Green's Hill again, is making me very very happy.

I don't have much to say about this one-- I loved it. I think, if you've been reading the Little Goddess books from the first one, you'll see my storytelling skills take a big jump from Wounded to Bound. When I was re-editing the books, besides the world building glitches (some of which I simply could not fix, not without losing my compete sanity) I noticed that there were tiny details that got tied into the ending that surprised me. People have been telling me that I do this for years--but this was one of the first places where I did it and went, "Oooh… I think that'll be good."

And it was!

Anyway-- besides that, I do have one little anecdote, and it's something I share in the new volume, but that I sort of love a lot, because it's true.

I wrote Bound before I started the blog, which meant I wrote before I had Squish. Now I started the first incarnation of this blog about two months after she was born--but by then I was occupied with her growing and this particular story was not told:

I was in labor with Squish for three days-- I started on March 31st, 8 p.m, and she was born on April 3rd, 6 a.m. (April Fools! You're not having a baby today!)  My labor went in and out and in and out and in and out, and finally, at two in the morning, April 3rd, we'd already sent the other kids to my parents house, and Mate was sleeping as only the non-pregnant, non-in-labor, totally oblivious men can sleep at any given time ever.  (Three days. I was not a nice--nor a sane--person.)

Anyway, at two in the morning I got up, wandered fitfully into the dining room, and started writing. I wrote the sequence in the story where Bracken and Cory get into a fight and make up in the garden. (It's a funny sequence-- her clothes are frickin' EVERYWHERE!)  I got to that part about the clothes, and had a contraction that felt like it cracked the foundation of the house.

Well fuck.

It was three a.m.. I wrote two insane e-mails to co-workers who later gave me copious amounts of shit about this, btw. It's not like they were Mary, or Julianne or Elizabeth or any of the half-dozen people that I would now call at two a.m. and whine, "I'm in fucking labor why won't this kid pop out!" Anyway-- as I pressed send on the second e-mail, I had another, "The world will split in two from the force of your uterus" contraction.

I stood up, walked to the bedroom, and took my last shower for what would be the next couple of days. Mate said, "What? What are you doing?"

I said, "Getting ready for the hospital."

"Why-- are the contractions coming again?"

"Who cares-- I have had enough of this shit."

An hour later, after a doctor stuck his hand up my weehoo and found I was 9 1/2 centimeters dilated, he asked "So, what made you decide to come in?"

"I have had enough of this shit."

Squish was born at six a.m., give or take a minute or two, and she was ten pounds.  And that chapter of Bound would live in my memory forevermore as proof that you don't have to be sane or even coherent to write.

*  *  *

Also-- I've had a lot of books released on Audio-- too many to mention, although I tend to flail them on social media a lot!  Anyway-- if audio books are your thing, if you check out the links below, you can hit my name link and see what's out.

Candy Man

Bitter Taffy

Truth in the Dark

Under the Rushes

I bet my feet were twitching..

Sorry I missed last night, folks! It's funny, how I keep thinking, "Oh, hey-- I've got sort of a light load-- I'll be able to accomplish so very much!"  
And then my world goes kersplodey and I remember when I used to think I was busy.  
Anyway-- yesterday was a lovely rainy Sunday, and you'd think I'd hang out and read and catch up on my Supernatural and finish the damned family of socks, right?
But I'd promised my husband a date night for weeks, and it was time to pony up, and my kids had a birthday party to go to, and on Sunday morning my stepmom called up and asked if I wanted to come over for dinner, and we owed our friend Wendy and her husband a movie and…
Okay, so the kids made the birthday party at Leatherby's-- but Mate had to drop them off while I got the present.  (I missed the after party, where there would be horror movies and gossip with my friend Berry Jello… *sigh*)  Afterwards we took the kids to my parents, met Wendy and Chris for dinner, saw SPECTRE, got the kids and came home.
And I turned on the computer and started to work, because hey-- edits, blog, NANO, doesn't go away, right?
And there I was, chipping away on edits/blog/NANO when Mate woke up.  He does this sometime-- his arm falls asleep and he wanders the house, dizzy and disoriented and trying to place what happened.  If I'm in bed with him, I can calm him down before he even gets out of bed. If I'm not, well, wandering, strange noises (he makes this Homer Simpson "Woo! Woo! Woo!" in his sleep that freaks me the fuck out!) ensue.
So he wandered, and I went to lay down with him.
And woke up two hours later still in my sweatshirt and bra still on thinking, "Qua da fuq?"
I went to bed for real-- after turning off the computer and making sure the doors were locked--only to be jerked out of a sound sleep two hours later, because someone had locked the cat in Squish's bedroom.
I woke up this morning with no NANO and no blog thinking, once again, "Qua da fuq?" So no-- I don't know what happened. My usual discipline deserted me and I went to bed at 11:45. I got nothin'. 
But these nice pictures of the kids at Berry Jello's daughter's birthday party.  It really was a lot of fun!

 Also-- and I'll post this again tomorrow!

Bound: Volume 1, the Third Book of the Little Goddess series goes on sale tomorrow.  I love the new cover concept so much-- he's so very Green!  (Except his eyes-- it was hard to get across that they really DID need to be, uh, Green.)

Part two goes on sale in December :-)

And wait until you see the other covers!  EEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Fanfic Friday: Knotty-- Cartinski

Okay-- I'll be honest. I put out a vote for who wanted what fanfic, and the results were frighteningly even.  The choice was Stucky, SuperBat, and Cartinski, and let's just say… split. Like a trident. So, my deciding factor?

Has nothing to do with the vote.

I'm writing a category romance for Dreamspinner Press-- a Dreamspun Desire.  And the thing with these is it's all about the simmer, and when I get to the sex, well, it's got to be three flames at the hottest. No raw animal rutting for my sweet tamale boy and his gentleman caller, no-- it's all going to be washing languorously onto love's transcendent shore.

I really needed to write some serious fucking.  Which left me with SuperBat or Cartinski.  And since the last SuperBat left us in a place where I needed to actually plot in order to get to the sex, I'm going for the Cartinski.  If you may recall, John had just fled Beacon Hills because it was the full moon and he didn't want to see mad raw-dogging all over the backwoods.

So he fled to Carter's house--and to a man blissfully unaware of what most shapeshifter writers have to grapple with all the time.

It's sort of a knotty problem, actually… *runs screaming from all of the spit wads flung after that horrible pun*

*  *  *

Carter liked the way John handled his children.  He was kind to his oldest--the boy who wasn't his but whom he'd raised like a son for the last six years--and sweet and adorable with the little girls.  He asked them all earnest questions, and when he got answers way above his pay grade and IQ, he didn't even raise his eyebrows.

Well, Stiles had a job in Eureka-- odds were good he was used to being baffled by offspring by now.

But finally-- finally--the kids were in bed, and Carter had a chance to talk to the house.

"Sarah?" he asked cautiously, leading John into the bedroom.  "Sarah--are you here?"

"Yes, Jack," Sarah said, her voice warm and seductive.  John gave a little gasp of surprise.  "Is there someone with you tonight? Someone not Allison?"

"You know there is."  Carter kept his voice firm. "Sarah, this is John Stilinski--we're dating."

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days," Sarah said primly.

"No, Sarah, the kids are calling it sex, and we'd like to have some-- but without the kids being able to hear us do it. Can you make sure that happens?"

There was a sullen silence. "But Sheriff, your relationship with Allison may not be completely severed. There is still hope. Nathan may possibly have changed after his time as nothing but anti-matter, and there is no guarantee that she'll be able to live with him--"

Carter groaned and rubbed the back of his neck.  "Sarah, what is Allison doing right now?"  He knew the damned house was tracking her across town-- because she'd given him updates on the night that Allison had decided to go back to Nathan.

"Allison's respiration is accelerated by thirty percent, her endorphins are high, and she appears to have blood flowing to several erogenous zones upon simulation… oh."

"Yeah, Sarah. My ex-wife is getting lucky. Any way I can get lucky too?"

"No sound will leave the room, Sheriff, but if the children are alarmed or need you, I will allow you the option of answering."

"Thank you, Sarah. So, unless it's an emergency--"

"I shall pretend I'm not here."

"Perfect."

Carter usually stood and looked up at the ceiling when he was talking to the house, so he finished up and turned to see how John took his relationship with the sentience that watched over his family.

John was under the blankets, fully clothed, with the covers over his head.

"Uh… John? Stilinski? You okay?"

"The house will see me naked," he said, like this was something Jack hadn't thought of at least a thousand times over the last ten years.

"Yes, but she doesn't judge," he said kindly. "And I will get to see you naked too, so there's that."  He liked John naked. John Stilinski took care of himself-- he was a little stocky in the chest and a little knobby in the knees, but mostly, he was serviceable muscle.  Carter liked that in a male lover-- just like he enjoyed a smile and a sense of play and the ability to switch hit.

"Nobody is ever going to see me naked ever again," John said, like he'd just decided. He remembered to kick off his boots though, before hauling his knees to his chest under the comforter, so Carter took heart.

Quickly, he stripped off his clothes and kicked off his shoes.  "Let me in," he demanded, pulling the edge of the blanket up.  "C'mon, let me play in the blanket fort-- it's cold out here!"

"Sheriff, it's 78 degrees inside the house-- if you would like me to heat it up--"

"Not now, Sarah, you're missing the point."

"I shall refrain from speaking, sir."

"Now you understand."

"That house sees us!" John mumbled, sounding a little hysterical. "There are werewolves fucking all over Beacon Hills and a house is going to see me naked!"

"Well, she's getting a load of me naked, so could you let me in the blanket fort?" Carter begged, and he reckoned John did love him because he held the blanket open just long enough for Carter to dive in.  "Thank you," he mumbled as John closed the blanket over the other side of his hips and made sure they were both tucked in like mummies.

"I need to lose ten pounds," John said seriously.  "And work out more. Lots more. LIke two hours a day. "

"Hon," Carter said, stroking his cheek in the close space of the blanket fort, "you're fine."

"Carter, the house is going to see that I'm fat! Can't you hear her? She's going to say, 'But Sheriff, your current partner is far less desirable than your last one. Can you not see that he has at least ten pounds more body fat and is closer to a heart attack than Allison so you should probably not ever have sex with him again!"

Carter buried his face against John's stubbled neck and giggled.  "Seriously?  You're going to let a house tell you not to get laid?"

"Sheriff Carter, your current partner can't get an erection right now, perhaps you'd like me to play some mood music. Does Sheriff Stilinski enjoy smooth jazz?"  John's voice cracked at the end of a rusty impression of Sarah's measured tones, and Jack pushed himself up on John's chest and started unbuttoning his official uniform shirt.

"Would smooth jazz work?" he asked sliding the shirt off John's shoulder.

John rolled under the fort and helped him out a little.  "I hate smooth jazz. Who can get laid listening to the saxophone?"

"Well then, there will be no smooth jazz played here tonight," Carter soothed.  He started working on John's belt, and was relieved when John grudgingly lifted his hips to let his khakis be pushed down to the bottom of the bed.

"Small mercies," John grumbled.  Carter slithered back up under the blanket fort and then rolled right on top of John, knowing that John Stilinski could take his weight--and anything else dished out to him.

"John Stilinski?" Carter said, undulating his hips so their bodies could get familiar and hard.

"What, Jack Carter?"

"I'm glad you're here tonight."

"I wish we were in Beacon Hills," John said honestly. "But we wouldn't be having sex there either. There is literally a wolf howling and fucking on every street corner."

Carter laughed--not because he didn't believe him, but because it was a funny thing to be afraid of. "Well then-- who says we're not having sex here?" he asked.

John glared at him--but he also brought his hands to Jack's hips and held him tight so they could buck up against each other.  "I think we have to be nak--"

Ah, Carter had been dying to kiss him again, since that first one outside in the car. John opened for him, warm and male and a little bitter--the pizza had been burnt.  Carter plundered anyway, and lost himself in the hardness of John's hands against his ass, the strength of John's chest, and the no-bullshit way he accepted the reality of two male bodies mashed together.

Carter was getting hard--but so was John--and Carter rolled off of him in order to scoot down and shuck his boxers down past his knees.

"Guess what?" he asked playfully, peering at John under the blanket.

"I'm hard," John muttered, knotting his fingers in Jack's hair.

"And naked," Jack said, lowering his head and slurping, hard, and the pre-cum leaking from John's cock.

John bucked, sensitive, probably, surprised into sudden arousal and easily ramped higher.  Or maybe--the little slut-- Jack's big male lover sort of secretly got off on knowing they were being watched, and was just afraid of knowing that about himself.

Which made him even more dear.

Carter lowered his head and raised it, sucking hard and squeezing at the base and teasing the slit with his tongue, gratified when John groaned.  Oh yeah-- one of the best things about John--when he was ramped, he was greedy and unashamed about it. When John bent his knees and spread his thighs, begging to have all his parts played with, Carter took that for what it was. He dribbled spit on the two fingers wrapped around John's cock and then shoved them none-to-subtly where the sun doesn't shine, and was thrilled when John came.

Judging from John's shocked cry, he was thrilled too--and maybe over his knowledge that the house could hear them too.

Carter swallowed, slimy and sweet, and continued to suck, until John was hard again, but oversensitive.

"John?" he said clearly, still stroking John off.

"Yeah?" Oh good-- he sounded loopy and relaxed and still aroused. Perfect. 

"I'm going to throw the covers back and grab the lube from the drawer, okay?"

"Lube?" he asked, still sounding a little  out of it.

"Yeah," Carter said, practically purring. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't see straight, okay?"

"The house…"  John muttered, but Carter thrust his fingers into John's orifice again, and he forgot what he was going to say as he arched his hips off the bed and beat feebly at the mattress.

Carter was already in the open air and reaching for the lube. "The house can't have you," he said, meaning it.  Just a little bit of lube, there we go, right along Carter's shaft.

He shifted on the bed, kneeling between John's knees, and thrust in.  John threw his head back about the pillows and screamed-- loudly--in pleasure, and Carter didn't monitor his own voice as he thrust forward and grunted from his gut.

Ah, Gods, yes. Loud sex--it was almost more of a turn on than sex with the lights on, because he and John spent so much time trying not to disturb the werewolf with hyper hearing who often was having sex in the same house.

Carter took a lot of joy in pounding into John Stilinski's ass, throwing his hips forward, letting his orgasm build at the base of his spine.  When John finally gave another whimper and scratched at Carter's shoulders, Carter's climax hit him like a storm.

His cry of pleasure cracked through the room like thunder.

The comedown was awesome too, and Carter pulled the blanket up over both of them in deference to John's returning sensibility that the house was watching.

"Hey," Carter said, sliding until they were chest to chest, the blanket pulled over their shoulders.  "What's knotting?"

John actually stopped looking wildly around the dimly lit room. "Knotting?"

"Yeah-- you said the werewolves were knotting when you drove up.  What does that mean?"

John dug deeper into the bed and stopped looking around the room completely. "Nothing," he muttered. "Not a damn thing. Are you ready to go yet? I'm ready to go again. Who's gonna top? I say you. You're good at topping--"

Carter stopped him with a kiss, one that was designed to rev them just a little bit more.  "Okay," he mumbled. "I got it. You'll tell me some other time."

John hummed and kissed him harder. "Yeah, fine," he said. "Maybe I'll top this time."

*  *  *

"Ouch," Stiles said.

"I'm sorry," Derek muttered, burying a mortified face into the back of Stiles's neck.

"Ouch."

"I don't know what to say-- it'll take twenty minutes to go down."

"Ouch."

"Stiles, I wanted you to top--"

"I was wrong. Jesus, Derek, can't you think of anything that will make it go down quicker?"

"No-- I've tried everything. Sports scores, saggy butts, kittens--"

"Well look at it!" Stiles begged. "Isn't it going down a little."

Derek didn't even try to look at it. He just groaned into Stiles's back some more. "Baby, looking at it gets me hot again!"

"Oh God. Derek, what's going to happen if my dad gets home and we're still stuck here?"

Oh… oh God. Derek's sweaty embarrassment turned to sweaty panic just that fast.

"Oh no," he whispered.

"Oh yes!" Stiles crowed, slithering out form under Derek as quickly as he could now that the swelling at the base of Derek's cock had gone down.

"Oh thank God," Derek murmured, rolling to his side. He glared at Stiles. "Next time," he threatened.

"Yeah," Stiles said, nodding fervently. "I hear you. Next full moon, I top!"

We found socks!

(I'd like to thank the person on FB who posted this to my
FB group. Best. Picture. Ever!)Okay-- it's not really anything to blog about, but it is exciting.

This year, I decided on three projects to knit (hey-- knitting is in the title there somewhere).

Project A: A family of socks for Mary-my-Mary

Project B: A blanket for my friend Ellis's adorable child

Project C: The Neil Gaiman Baker-Street scarf for Ms. Lynn West





So, I've started on all of them (being the fiber slut that I am) and I love every project. (And hey, it's just occurred to me, that as far as rockstars go, I'm knitting for rockstars. Saying. This is exciting.)

But here's the thing-- I am actually almost done with the family of socks. There were to be four pairs.  I sent two pairs to their intended recipient, had finished the third and set them out to block, and had started the fourth and had actually finished the first sock. 

And that's when I realized…

Oh, holy crap, I couldn't find the third pair of socks.

My house had eaten the third pair of socks. NO SOCKS, there were NO SOCKS!

You've got to understand.

The first pair of socks for this project was halfway completed--I had one sock done--and I had ZB try the sock on and… zip. I had no socks done, because a flaw I hadn't noticed just ran down the side of that sucker and I had to start again.  The second set went much better--but I had to unwind the first sock or I wouldn't have had enough wool, and honestly? That makes me itchy. I like to have enough wool. The second pair went awesomely--so awesomely in fact that I had to have a pair of fingerless mitts out of the same wool for reasons. Those reasons, btw, are what have kept me from whining over the last week as we sit out in the dark and cold to watch our kids practice soccer on a tennis court under the lights, so Imma say some good reasons.  But still-- two projects, two delays.

This was the third pair of socks… if I couldn't find them by the time I finished the last sock I was going to have to postpone the blanket (which is doing quite well) and postpone the scarf (which I adore working on) and knit another pair of plain worsted socks. 

I know non-knitters won't believe me when I say this, but this would be a tragedy.

And now it's been averted.

I haven't been this happy since I woke up on Saturday and thought, "I need to take care of that ticket-- WAIT! IT'S OVER! I DON'T HAVE TO ANYMORE!"

*whew*

Only one sock to go.

Mazeltov, It's a Zoomboy

My younger children are…
Not popular. Not only are they not popular, but nowhere in their genetic makeup are the seeds of being popular. Squish doesn't know how to play mean girls, and she had no desire for makeup-- as she'll tell you to your face, she is only nine years old.  She would, however, like to level up in her reading, insists on being in GATE, needs to be in choir, and would dearly love to make every dance class if it were not for mom making her catch up on homework or those pesky Kings games.
Zoomboy is pretty sure he is popular because he knows everything about Star Wars, Harry Potter, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, How It's Made, Myths of Science, Mythbusters, and World's  Funniest Animals. How could you not be popular with that roster-- and the chess club to boot!
So, no. I have not geared my brain-thirsty children for popularity 101.  
And I"m not excited about wrestling, either.
Big T wrestled when I was pregnant with Squish. He was easily the biggest kid in six schools--and he would step up to the matt, and those kids would crap their pants, thinking he was going to destroy them.
The longest he ever lasted before his pin was 10 seconds.  
Ten. 
So, when Zoomboy told me they'd started a wrestling unit in the same class that was responsible for his concussion, I was not particularly excited.
"Wrestling, huh?"
"Yeah! And they teach us how to hold and how to take someone down and how to pin--"
"So you know all that?"
"Yeah! And today I went up against a kid who was really good and I lasted for a long time before he pinned me!"
Me, somewhat surprised. "Good… that's great. Good for you!"
"And then I went up against another kid who wasn't supposed to be that good and he totally took me out."
"He what?"
"He took me down--I saw stars, I couldn't breathe-- I think I even cried."
Me--flailing, angry, upset, because… my baby!  "You… you cried! In PE?"
"Yeah, my head hurt and everything."  
Oh God. "Does it still hurt?"
"Oh no-- it stopped before my next class. But it was scary."
Yes, yes it was scary.  "I think maybe you shouldn't wrestle anymore."
And here's where ZoomBoy totally surprised me.  "But I love wrestling!"
"But that big boy made you cry!"  And yes, I am still flailing.
"But he said he was sorry! And he won't do it again! I love wrestling. I'm sort of good at it."
"Oh.  Okay."  And now my inner flailing is coming from a totally different place. "Wrestling, huh?"
"Yeah-- it looks like it's all about strength but it's really about strategy and intelligence--that's what the coaches say. I think I can do the intelligent part."
Oh God. It hits me.  "You'll be great, honey!"  
I've given birth to and raised a boy.  I didn't mean for it to happen, but there you go.  Mazeltov, it's a ZoomBoy. He likes science, literature, math, chess club, and wrestling. 
I have no idea how that happened.

Ball Experts

So, Squish's coach is a fit guy, as energetic as a psychotic squirrel, with a tendency to chatter at the kids without actually thinking about what he's saying.

He's sort of adorable-- the soccer moms have enjoyed giving him a ration of shit.

Example?

Tonight, they were practicing on the tennis court, under the lights, while we huddled under blankets on the sidelines.

Coach: I seem to have lost my ball… darn it, where's my one white ball?

Soccer Mom 1: Only one ball, coach? You only have one white ball?

Coach (looking suspicious): Yes, only one white ball--

Me: Is the other one blue, sir?

Coach (getting it now): You know, there is a teenaged boy behind you guys--

Me: He can write his own material-- we're doing fine on our own!

The coach walked away, muttering, but as practice progressed and he started calling out to the girls, "Where's my support over here! My ball needs support!", well, you can just imagine.

Soccer Mom 2: So, which ball do you think he needs supported?

Soccer Mom 1: Definitely the white one.

Me: The other one is just left, swinging in the breeze?

We laughed-- a lot-- but when he came back to the fence, we had quieted down. He glared at us suspiciously.  "You guys are quiet-- nothing else to say on the subject?"

Soccer Mom 2: You said everything-- you said your ball was unsupported. Did you get support for your ball, coach?

Coach: You girls sound ball deprived, that's the problem!

Soccer Moms 1 and 2 shut down with that, but, well… who could resist.

Me: Actually, sir, I'm a ball specialist. It's part of my job.

He was left speechless (for about ten seconds) and the Soccer Moms high-fived me.

Me (quietly to soccer moms): I really am sort of an expert.

Soccer Moms: Well, you'd have to be in your line of work.

Me: Sayin'.

*Kermit Flail* November

So-- We've survived the dreaded October, and it's nothing but holidays from here on out.  I'm so excited!
And this month's *Kermit Flail* is really something special-- in a lot of ways.  
I know all of the authors featured this month-- and have even flailed one or two, but everybody is here in a slightly different capacity than they are usually--and that makes things sort of more awesome.
Let's start with Alex Whitehall, who is one of my much adored Riptide People.  I've met Alex several times in person, and last time, was gifted by a chain mail scarf (which got me through the winter, it was just so soft and full of love!) because Alex really loved my knitting series.  I have the feeling that they have a soft spot for our gentler characters--especially given that Alex's offering this month is called Sharing the Pond and features the most adorable little frog on the cover!  So sweet!  
From Alex, we can move on to Shae Connor-- who just doesn't write enough. Now see, I've met Shae on a number of occasions, but I have two favorites.  One was at RWA Atlanta, where we shared a beer with J.P. Barnaby over lunch, and the other was at RWA New York. I hadn't seen her all week hardly-- but she was my parting hug as I waited for my cab. I adore Shae, and I'm so glad to be *flailing* one of her books this month.  And I love the cover-- so pretty :-)
Now, I both know and have *flailed* Aisling Mancy and Shira Anthony-- but never together--so I pretty much begged Aisling for the chance to *flail* A Solitary Man.  Eeeee!!! These are two of the most awesome people in the history of awesome, and they ave pooled their awesomeness TOGETHER. How I adore them so!
S.M. May is the pseudonym of one of the lovely people who offered to translate Vulnerable into Italian for free. She has written a novel-- in  English-- and has also written a few in Italian, and I am just always so in awe of people who can do that. She asked for some help getting the word out about her work and I just jumped on that!  Anyone who would translate a book for just the love of it is going to be one of my favorite people in general, so go baby, go baby, go baby GO!
And Nyrae Dawn… *happy sigh*  Ms. Dawn also writes as Riley Hart, and I am a huge fan. She writes young adult as Nyrae and wonderful M/M small town romance as Riley, and in person? Lovely. Stunningly pretty, a little bit shy, and all around wonderful.  When we first met, Nyrae was planning to write adult M/M and I told her to go for it--now I'm like, "Best. Cheerleading. Ever!" Anything I could have possibly done to help get another Riley Hart or Nyrae Dawn book in the world is a really amazing thing.  And Nyrae's new book looks wonderful-- I'm so proud she's on my blog!
Kim Fielding was, of course, one of my two beloved companions two and from GRL this year.  Kim is several shades of awesome, and to prove it, she's donating the proceeds from her new audio release-- A Festivus Miracle -- to one of our favorite charities, Doctors Without Borders. So, not only will you get beautiful sweetness from someone who usually writes chest-rippers with delicacy and skill, you will get to give your money to a great cause as well.
And we wrap this *flail* up with Bound: Part 1.  Now, I love these covers-- I mean adore-- and I know some of you have been so faithful about buying these books as they're re-released. I'm grateful for every one of you who has hung in there for so long.  The next thing on my editing queue is the three Green's Hill novellas, followed by Rampant. And then, oh yes then, we can release Quickening--and nobody will be more excited than me!
Oh!
And at the very bottom?  We've got cover reveal!  It's not out until December 24th, but I thought you'd like to get a glimpse of Winter Ball… just because ;-)
So, without further ado, here we go with November's *Kermit Flail*-- YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAAYAAYAAYAYAYAAYAAYAAAYAYAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 


Sharing the PondBy Alex WhitehallBrent shows up on Corey and Shane's doorstep in the dead of winter needing a place to stay—and hopeful his mates will provide it, and not mind he's a frog shifter.
Being a shifter is nothing new to Corey and Shane, but neither is being mates. They've been together since before they first met Brent ten years ago—back when Brent was Brenda. Bringing a third into their relationship is more than a little complicated, but they're willing to try.
But change is always easier said than done, and Brent wonders if he ever really stood a chance at being happy with the men he has always loved and admired.
Less Than Three PressAmazon 


Nobody's Sonby Shae Connor
Who wouldn’t want a nice cup of tall, dark, and gorgeous? Shaun Rogers does. He’s working at the front desk of a clothing-optional gay resort when Conrad “Con” Brooks walks in. The sweet, funny, and smart IT guy is there to install a new network and security system, and sparks fly between the two men from the start. Trouble is, Shaun’s hiding his sexuality from his grandmother, the only family he has left, and that makes him reluctant to take the leap with Con.
Then a man claiming to be Shaun’s absent father shows up out of nowhere, throwing Shaun completely off balance. His life spiraling toward chaos, Shaun soon discovers that his “father” is hiding secrets of his own. When things come to a head between them, it’s Con who comes to Shaun’s rescue—but the incident could force Shaun into a decision he’s not sure he’s ready to make.

Dreamspinner Press


 A Solitary Manby Shira Anthony and Aisling Mancy         
Sparks fly when Chance meets tall, sexy Xav at a Wilmington bar and they have the hottest one-nighter of their lives. But Chance doesn’t do repeats, Xav seems detached, and they go their separate ways without a word. Two months later, when closeted Assistant District Attorney C. Evan “Chance” Fairchild meets Dare’s Landing’s newest deputy sheriff, Xavier “Xav” Constantine, Evan isn’t only wary. He’s irritated as hell.
Xavier is a former FBI agent turned deputy sheriff who is hot on the trail of a South American child prostitution ring. Evan is fighting to put an end to rampant cocaine trafficking and chafing under the thumb of an election-hungry boss. When someone tries to kill the thirteen-year-old witness who holds the key to both their investigations, they’re forced to work together as they put their lives on the line to protect him. As Chance and Xav collide in heat of a sweltering North Carolina summer, dodging bullets and chasing bad guys isn’t the only action going on.
 Dreamspinner Press ARe


SECRET FUNDINGby S.M. May
 Young, handsome, sometimes cruel. Noah Kress is a hardened broker, skilled enough to bring success to his company and determined to face the ever-growing challenges of the venture capital market. In his private life he is Master Noah, a very popular dominator at the Circle, one of the most exclusive private clubs in Boston. For him, at work as well as in the dungeon, people and events are just variables to be interpreted, numbers to be broken down, combinations to consider and evaluate.But when the latest, most difficult deal threatens to make his company sink without trace, his only chance seems to be the large investment fund managed by the mysterious Martin Scheer. And in order to provide credit, Martin demands a very special guarantee.For both of them it's just business. Yet, what was supposed to be a mere contract might just shatter the perfect surface of their lives.And will talented player Noah be willing to gamble following brand new rules?
 Amazon

A Hundred Thousand Wordsby Nyrae Dawn
Tobias Jackson grew up in Coburn, a town where the gay population equaled exactly one: him. Add that to the fact that his dream guy was his best friend's jerky older brother Levi Baxter, and it made hooking up virtually impossible.Now home from college for winter break, Toby is a different person. He left Coburn for San Francisco, where he wasn't the lone gay guy and the only black kid in town. And yeah, he took advantage of what the city had to offer.Apparently Toby isn’t the only one who’s changed. Levi’s not acting like the self-centered guy with all the answers that Toby remembers from growing up. Oh and Levi’s realized he's bisexual, which makes things a lot more interesting…Heading back to college, Toby doesn’t expect to meet up with Levi again, despite him being in med school not far away. A surprise visit from Levi blows that assumption out of the water. As they spend more time together Toby sees Levi as more than just the fantasy. He’s complicated, unsure…he’s real. But if Toby can’t get out of the past and find the words he keeps locked inside himself, he’ll lose his chance at Levi for good.Amazon

The Festivus Miracle-Audiobook
by Kim Fielding
It's finals week during Tony McNeil's second year in law school, and he's struggling to keep up. Frankly, he'd rather be cooking. Then he meets first-year student Eddie Cohen-Fernandez, who's heartsick over missing his family's annual Festivus celebration. Tony can use his culinary skills to lift Eddie's spirits, but finding long-term happiness? That just might require a Festivus miracle.
Audible

ETA-- and my beloved Jaime Samms slid this one just under the wire-- it's called Like No One is Watching.


Like No One Is Watchingby Jaime Samms
Dusty has finally landed a job he thinks he’ll be able to keep long-term, even with his broken brain and bum knee. He didn’t anticipate that cleaning a dance studio would reawaken his yearning to dance—even though he is no longer capable—or that meeting the studio’s director would rouse his dormant libido. Or his sleeping heart.Conrad thinks his life is finally complete with his successful dance studio and a steady stream of students. When Dusty arrives, he rediscovers his thirst for a man who will let him hand over control and give him the undivided attention he’s never had. The trouble is, Dusty isn’t sure he’s worthy of the studio director’s submission.
To make their relationship work, Dusty will have to trust his ability to dominate the powerful and beautiful dancer, and Conrad will have to stop talking long enough to hear Dusty’s promises. Buy Here


Bound, Vol. 1Amy Lane 2nd Edition
Humans have the option of separation, divorce, and heartbreak.  For Corinne Carol-Anne Kirkpatrick, sorceress and queen of the vampires, the choices are limited to love or death. Now that she is back at Green’s Hill and assuming her duties as leader, her life is, at best, complicated. Bracken and Nicky are competing for her affections, Green is away taking care of his people, and a new supernatural enemy is threatening the sanctity of all she has come to love. Throw in a family reunion gone bad, a supernatural psychiatrist, and a killer physics class, and Cory’s life isn’t just complex, it’s psychotic.
Cory needs to get her act and her identity together, and soon, because the enemy she and her lovers are facing is a nightmare that doesn’t just kill people, it unmakes them. If she doesn’t figure out who she is and what her place is on Green’s Hill, it’s not just her life on the line. She knows from hard experience that the only thing worse than facing death is facing the death of someone she loves.
Loving people is easy—living with them is what takes the real work, and it’s even harder if you’re bound.
1st Edition published as Bound: The Third Book of the Little Goddess Series by iUniverse, 2007.
Buy at DSPPublications





COVER REVEAL: WINTER BALL Available for Pre-Sale at the end of November 

Sunday Shorts

So, today was mostly an underwear day-- but I did make exceptions.

See, a friend of my parents was talking this weekend about how Shih Tzus were dogs of routine--terrible, terrible routine, and I totally believed him--and this morning they totally demonstrated why.

I got dressed and showered and Mate was still in bed.  The dogs were just tearing it up on the bed-- growl, tumble, tussle, play, repeat on speed-- and over the din, Mate said, "So, where are you going?"
I said, "I"m going to take the dogs to McDonalds, because they haven't been on their morning drive and walk in two days."
Or that's what I was going to say…
I got to, "I'm going to take the dogs to McD--"  and suddenly both dogs just STOPPED their tussling/tearing/growling/playing and scrambled to the ground by my feet. 
Where they stood, staring at me, waiting for leashes and the trip to the car.
Mate couldn't stop laughing--and the dogs?  
They enjoyed their sausage patty very much, and their walk around the block and their daily dump.  When they got back to the house? It was raining.  I'm like, if that's all it takes to get rain (and washing my car the day before!) I will do that every day.