Amy Lane's Blog: Writer's Lane, page 21
October 15, 2019
Fish on a Bicycle--Available Now!
Guys--GUESS WHAT'S OUT????Fish on a Bicycle
by Amy Lane
Fish Out of Water: Book Five
Jackson Rivers has always bucked the rules—and bucking the rules of recovery is no exception. Now that he and Ellery are starting their own law firm, there’s no reason he can’t rush into trouble and take the same risks as always, right?
Maybe not. Their first case is a doozy, involving porn stars, drug empires, and daddy issues, and their client, Henry Worrall, wants to be an active participant in his own defense. As Henry and Jackson fight the bad guys and each other to find out who dumped the porn star in the trash can, Jackson must reexamine his assumptions that four months of rest and a few good conversations have made him all better inside.
Jackson keeps crashing his bicycle of self-care and a successful relationship, and Ellery wonders what’s going to give out first—Jackson’s health or Ellery’s patience. Jackson’s body hasn’t forgiven him for past crimes. Can Ellery forgive him for his current sins? And can they keep Henry from going to jail for sleeping with the wrong guy at the wrong time?
Being a fish out of water is tough—but if you give a fish a bicycle, how’s he going to swim?
Buy Here
So, you might ask-- how do you take the fourth--or is it fifth?-- book in a series, add in another series, and make it stand alone?
You work really really hard at making the people you meet--whether it's Dex, Kane, and Henry from Dex in Blue, Bobby and Reg from Bobby Green, John and Galen from Black John, or Burton and Ernie from Hiding the Moon--Just as new, just as fresh, just as interesting to the reader as they are to our two romantic leads.
And given how much I love Jackson and Ellery, having them meet up with the other people in my world is actually pretty awesome.
Jackson and Ellery are meeting Henry Worrall for the very first time. Now, fans of the Johnnies series will know what Henry's damage is. They'll know why he's got a chip on his shoulder--and they'll delight in every moment of revelation.
But people who have never heard of Johnnies--well, they'll be shocked! Surprised! Saddened! And in the end, both sets of people will come to the same place: Empathy for Henry, and pride for how much he grows.
So much empathy and pride, I hope, that they'll be excited to see him get his own book, because Purple Shades of Henry (which will reveal parts of Henry's backstory that will be a surprise to everybody) comes out in March.
And as for folks who haven't met Jackson and Ellery yet?
I suggest you start with Fish Out of Water. And then buckle your seatbelt--it's going to be a bumpy ride.
Fish Out of WaterFish Out of Water: Book One
PI Jackson Rivers grew up on the mean streets of Del Paso Heights—and he doesn’t trust cops, even though he was one. When the man he thinks of as his brother is accused of killing a police officer in an obviously doctored crime, Jackson will move heaven and earth to keep Kaden and his family safe.
Defense attorney Ellery Cramer grew up with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, but that hasn’t stopped him from crushing on street-smart, swaggering Jackson Rivers for the past six years. But when Jackson asks for his help defending Kaden Cameron, Ellery is out of his depth—and not just with guarded, prickly Jackson. Kaden wasn’t just framed, he was framed by crooked cops, and the conspiracy goes higher than Ellery dares reach—and deep into Jackson’s troubled past.
Both men are soon enmeshed in the mystery of who killed the cop in the minimart, and engaged in a race against time to clear Kaden’s name. But when the mystery is solved and the bullets stop flying, they’ll have to deal with their personal complications… and an attraction that’s spiraled out of control.
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Red Fish, Dead FishFish Out of Water: Book Two
They must work together to stop a psychopath—and save each other.
Two months ago Jackson Rivers got shot while trying to save Ellery Cramer’s life. Not only is Jackson still suffering from his wounds, the triggerman remains at large—and the body count is mounting.
Jackson and Ellery have been trying to track down Tim Owens since Jackson got out of the hospital, but Owens’s time as a member of the department makes the DA reluctant to turn over any stones. When Owens starts going after people Jackson knows, Ellery’s instincts hit red alert. Hurt in a scuffle with drug-dealing squatters and trying damned hard not to grieve for a childhood spent in hell, Jackson is weak and vulnerable when Owens strikes.
Jackson gets away, but the fallout from the encounter might kill him. It’s not doing Ellery any favors either. When a police detective is abducted—and Jackson and Ellery hold the key to finding her—Ellery finds out exactly what he’s made of. He’s not the corporate shark who believes in winning at all costs; he’s the frightened lover trying to keep the man he cares for from self-destructing in his own valor.
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A Few Good FishFish Out of Water: Book ThreeA tomcat, a psychopath, and a psychic walk into the desert to rescue the men they love…. Can everybody make it out with their skin intact?
PI Jackson Rivers and Defense Attorney Ellery Cramer have barely recovered from last November, when stopping a serial killer nearly destroyed Jackson in both body and spirit.
But their previous investigation poked a new danger with a stick, forcing Jackson and Ellery to leave town so they can meet the snake in its den.
Jackson Rivers grew up with the mean streets as a classroom and he learned a long time ago not to give a damn about his own life. But he gets a whole new education when the enemy takes Ellery. The man who pulled his shattered pieces from darkness and stitched them back together again is in trouble, and Jackson’s only chance to save him rests in the hands of fragile allies he barely knows.
It’s going to take a little bit of luck to get these Few Good Fish out alive!
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Fish Out Of Water: Book Four - A Fish Out of Water/Racing for the Sun CrossoverCan a hitman and a psychic negotiate a relationship while all hell breaks loose?
The world might not know who Lee Burton is, but it needs his black ops division and the work they do to keep it safe. Lee’s spent his life following orders—until he sees a kill jacket on Ernie Caulfield. Ernie isn’t a typical target, and something is very wrong with Burton’s chain of command.
Ernie’s life may seem adrift, but his every action helps to shelter his mind from the psychic storm raging within. When Lee Burton shows up to save him from assassins and club bunnies, Ernie seizes his hand and doesn’t look back. Burton is Ernie’s best bet in a tumultuous world, and after one day together, he’s pretty sure Lee knows Ernie is his destiny as well.
But when Burton refused Ernie’s contract, he kicked an entire piranha tank of bad guys, and Burton can’t rest until he takes down the rogue military unit that would try to kill a spacey psychic. Ernie’s in love with Burton and Burton’s confused as hell by Ernie—but Ernie’s not changing his mind and Burton can’t stay away. Psychics, assassins, and bad guys—throw them into the desert with a forbidden love affair and what could possibly go wrong?
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Racing for the Sun"I'll do anything."
Staff Sergeant Jasper "Ace" Atchison takes one look at Private Sonny Daye and knows that every word on paper about him is pure, unadulterated bullshit. But Sonny is desperate, and although Ace isn't going to take him up on his offer of "anything," that doesn't mean he isn't tempted.
Instead, Ace takes Sonny under his wing, protecting him when they're in the service and making plans with him when they get out. Together, they're going to own a garage and build race cars and make their fortune hurtling faster than light across the desert. Together, they're going to rewrite the past, make Sonny Daye a whole and happy person, and put the ghosts in Ace's heart to rest.
But not even Sonny can build a car fast enough to escape the ghosts of the past. When Sonny's ghosts drive them down and run their plans off the road, Ace finds out exactly what he's made of. Maybe Sonny was the one to promise Ace anything, but there is nothing under the sun Ace won't do to keep Sonny safe from harm.
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The Johnnies Series (* The link is to all five of the books, but Henry appears in book 2.)Dex in Blue
Johnnies: Book Two
Ten years ago David Worral had plans to go to college and the potential for a beautiful future in front of him. One tragic accident later, he fled to California and reinvented himself as Dex, top porn model of Johnnies.
Dex’s life is a tangled mess now, but the guys he works with only see the man who makes them believe even porn stars can lead normal lives. When Kane, one of Dex’s coworkers, gets kicked out of his house, the least Dex can do is give him a place to stay. Kane may be a hyperactive muscle-bound psycho, but he’s also a really nice guy. What could be the harm?
Except nothing is simple—not sex, not love, and not the goofy kid with the big dick and bigger heart who moves his life into Dex’s guest room. When they start negotiating fractured pasts and broken friends, Dex wonders if Kane’s honest nature can untangle the sadness that stalled his once-promising future. With Kane by his side, Dex just might be able to reclaim the boy he once was—and if he can do that, he can give Kane the home and the family he deserves.
Buy the Series Here
October 13, 2019
The brain cloud captain--she has frozen!
So, on Wednesday I leave for a two destination trip--and I have to admit, it's got me sort of... uhm... wobbly.See, this weekend was a soccer tournament.
A very long, very sad soccer tournament. Squish's team lost all four games in two days, Mate's boy's team (younger, with shorter games) lost all four of their games in one, and I lost two days to sitting in the middle of a soccer field, knitting.
Okay-- talking to the moms and Mate which was possibly the best part, besides finishing this hooded poncho, which nobody--repeat NOBODY in my family wants. The girls are both, "But we like PASTELS!" So this will probably go to a random cousin because i had sort of an idea about knitting a big box of stuff for them and sending it and saying, "Just send me pictures!"
But it still looks good, right? Particularly with Squish's hair.
But about this trip...
See, GRL starts Wednesday, and yes, there's a lot of reasons not to go, including expense, but there are people I want to see, and I really need to attend Ethan Day's memorial service, because I've spent the last year missing the fact that he's been out in the world.
But I've also made a concerted effort to make teaching a thing, and my class on conflict was accepted by the ECWC in Seattle for the same weekend, so literally at the end of the signing, I am running away from the hotel at 12:00 and catching a plane at 2:30 for Seattle. The fun part is that I go from rooming with Andrew Grey to rooming with Kim Fielding and since I adore them both, this makes me really happy.
The not fun part is LEAVING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SIGNING to catch another plane to another place with a different temperature and I have to pack for two different places and two different events.
Also, getting into the room with the clothes scares me. Dust. So much dust.
Also, I NEED TO ADD TO MY DAMNED PRESENTATION because I have an hour and a half in Seattle and it was designed for the hour in New York.
Also, I just started a new series for Dreamspun Beyond and I adore it very much a lot but the first few chapters are super hard and really awesome but did I mention the super hard?
Also, have been chronically short on funds and I can't do the "make Amy NOT a troll" thing until Tuesday, when the plane leaves on Wednesday, so if I miss something like a face wax or my roots or getting the squirrel on my head beaten into submission or my ratty toenails, well, there's still a human under all this crap, I swear.
Also packing is going to be sort of weird and I'm debating whether to bring books or too much swag or not enough swag or oh my God what clothes am I packing again?
Also, ZoomBoy has a choir presentation tomorrow.
WAIT? DID WE GET HIM A HAIR CUT AND HEM HIS PANTS?
*breathe breathe breathe*
Yes, yes we did. Okay so--
WAIT!! I NEED TO PRACTICE MY READING FOR GRL!
What am I reading? Oh God. I can't decide. What should I read? The new Jackson?
ALSO FISH ON A BICYCLE IS OUT TUESDAY!
Shit. Is that right? DO I HAVE A RELEASE ON TUESDAY?
Fuck fuck fuck fuck...
Also, what's the temperature like in Seattle?
Oh. Jesus, that's cold. IMAY DIE FROM THE COLD IN SEATTLE!
*buries head in hands* So, uh, can you tell the brain cloud has frozen?
Here. Enjoy pictures of Squish modeling this super cute hooded poncho that looks super cute on her that SHE DOESN'T LIKE. You may notice where we are as she models it. Would that be... yes! Yes, I do believe it was... WE'RE ON THE FUCKING SOCCER FIELD.
Because of course we were.
And if anyone has any suggestions for what I should read on Friday, let me know. I should probably practice that.
Shit. Yeah. I really should.
October 10, 2019
And Then the Fork Ran Away With the Spoon
Never underestimate the power of a foul autumn wind.
Of course here in California, where half the state burned down last year close to this time, we are very aware of what a wind can do. But I've got other stories--there was the time school's opening had been delayed by construction, and the advent of the first progress reports--mostly bad--coincided with a foul autumn wind, dry and destructive and full of negative ions.
We found ourselves wandering around a muttering crowd of angry students--not just in one area like the quad or the cafeteria, but the entire student body as it transitioned from fifth to sixth period. We were all looking them in the eyes and calling them by name and telling them to get back to their rooms because there was a dangerous vibe coming from the earth itself and rumbling through the soles of our shoes.
But those are extreme examples.
Right now, it's just... insomnia.
The cold, the wind, the aridity--Mate is having trouble sleeping.
Last night, he woke up three times, once talking to people who weren't there. It wasn't anything demonic like, "Let's kill her while she's at her computer!" It was more mundane, like, "What about the car?" (Totaled by the way. He's looking for a new one.) But that was once. And a "Wha? Wha?" was twice.
The whimper was my cue to just ditch what I was working on and go lay down and read. I had to keep getting up-- the point in staying awake was...?
Well, apparently, it was that I couldn't go to sleep after reading a murder mystery for two hours. It wasn't that I was scared so much--no.
Usually when I'm doing something REALLY verbal-- writing mostly, but sometimes reading--I need a break from the words before I sleep.
Words and I are too familiar as companions. We will dance, we will play, we will twirl--and we will do it when I sleep.
So I spent last night in a haze of a terrible dream--horror/suspense at it's best, I suspect--involving a family and a phantom and a bad guy and, because it's an occupational hazard, I would wager, gay sex.
I don't know who was gay, or who was having sex, but somebody was, and then there was a ghost and screaming and a new house and scared kids.
It was a whole thing.
And I slept like ASS. Not the good kind of bootylicious ass either.
And Mate and I woke up at five in the morning and talked for half-an-hour and then I went back to sleep and then he took the kids to school and came back and I needed to sign some paperwork so I got up early and...
Well, let's just say I had to take a helluva nap this afternoon to deal with that entire mishegas.
And tonight?
It doesn't matter when I go to sleep--I'm remembering to play my stupid little math game on my phone for five minutes so me and words forget each other's existence for at least six hours.
Because the only sub-genre I haven't written yet is horror, and I don't want to start now.
Of course here in California, where half the state burned down last year close to this time, we are very aware of what a wind can do. But I've got other stories--there was the time school's opening had been delayed by construction, and the advent of the first progress reports--mostly bad--coincided with a foul autumn wind, dry and destructive and full of negative ions.
We found ourselves wandering around a muttering crowd of angry students--not just in one area like the quad or the cafeteria, but the entire student body as it transitioned from fifth to sixth period. We were all looking them in the eyes and calling them by name and telling them to get back to their rooms because there was a dangerous vibe coming from the earth itself and rumbling through the soles of our shoes.
But those are extreme examples.
Right now, it's just... insomnia.
The cold, the wind, the aridity--Mate is having trouble sleeping.
Last night, he woke up three times, once talking to people who weren't there. It wasn't anything demonic like, "Let's kill her while she's at her computer!" It was more mundane, like, "What about the car?" (Totaled by the way. He's looking for a new one.) But that was once. And a "Wha? Wha?" was twice.
The whimper was my cue to just ditch what I was working on and go lay down and read. I had to keep getting up-- the point in staying awake was...?
Well, apparently, it was that I couldn't go to sleep after reading a murder mystery for two hours. It wasn't that I was scared so much--no.
Usually when I'm doing something REALLY verbal-- writing mostly, but sometimes reading--I need a break from the words before I sleep.
Words and I are too familiar as companions. We will dance, we will play, we will twirl--and we will do it when I sleep.
So I spent last night in a haze of a terrible dream--horror/suspense at it's best, I suspect--involving a family and a phantom and a bad guy and, because it's an occupational hazard, I would wager, gay sex.
I don't know who was gay, or who was having sex, but somebody was, and then there was a ghost and screaming and a new house and scared kids.
It was a whole thing.
And I slept like ASS. Not the good kind of bootylicious ass either.
And Mate and I woke up at five in the morning and talked for half-an-hour and then I went back to sleep and then he took the kids to school and came back and I needed to sign some paperwork so I got up early and...
Well, let's just say I had to take a helluva nap this afternoon to deal with that entire mishegas.
And tonight?
It doesn't matter when I go to sleep--I'm remembering to play my stupid little math game on my phone for five minutes so me and words forget each other's existence for at least six hours.
Because the only sub-genre I haven't written yet is horror, and I don't want to start now.
October 9, 2019
Habit Forming --Jai/George Part 9
Hey all-- so much promotion and shit to do, but I'm trying to get it done before I start my next project, and I'm dying to write a little fiction tonight.
HelLO Jai and George!
Now, for those of you who remember the timeline (and I often don't) Jai and George meet in the spring--I may have said March but I'm changing it to May. If we follow what was happening with Sonny and Ace, Redirecting the Blast happened in early September so Ellery and Jackson could investigate those events after Jackson's birthday, in late September.
And while we don't know exactly what Jai did--we do suspect it was quite a lot.
Enjoy!
* * *
"You going camping again this weekend?"
George nodded at Amal and laced up his sneakers. This particular shift had been pretty messy--he'd packed street clothes and had availed himself of the shower and had even brought his own body wash so he didn't show up in the mountains smelling like hospital.
Not that Jai had complained, of course--but more and more, George was trying to impress him.
"Yup. Annaliese is watching the cat--and probably drinking all my wine, which I plan for, so I only buy the shitty stuff, and I'm going camping." He took a deep breath of industrial cleanser scented air. "Clears out the old sinuses."
Amal narrowed his eyes. "Clears out something. Are you seriously meeting this guy again?"
George looked away and started packing his bag. "It's working," he defended. "Once every three weeks. You know. Meet, camp, fish, read, unplug, relax. It's better than a facial." He remembered their last time in bed and smirked. Jai, looming above him in the tent, fist wrapped around his mammoth cock, stroking himself off into George's waiting mouth. That sort of thing looked really good in porn, but anybody on the receiving end knew that come never really ended up in the mouth.
George hadn't cared. Jai's big, solid company, his kindness, the unexpected bursts of humor--these were the touchstones of why George showed up camping as often as he and Jai could meet.
The way he'd convulsed and come when Jai's semen had splattered across his cheek, his lips, his neck--that was the icing, in more ways than just licking it off his fingers.
"Is this a relationship?" Amal asked, still squinting. "Booty call? What?"
"Monogamous?" It was monogamous. George knew that much. Jai had shown him a recent test for their first three meetings until George had just told him that they would only bring condoms if the other one had sex with someone else.
Jai hadn't needed one, and George hadn't either--to the point where George had turned down more than one date with a guy who didn't look like a Marvin or a Gary or even a Steve.
He'd even turned down a date with a Buck, who had been built like a god with a goofy grin and a sense of irony, a paramedic who was super competent and hella sexy.
But he hadn't been six-foot-six and bald with a goatee and a fondness for fishing, so that was no good at all.
This thing in the mountains, this sort of sexual retreat, had been going on for nearly five months and George's only regret was there wasn't more of it.
That and he knew less about Jai than he had before.
That meeting in May, Jai had been a mechanic, ex-mob by his own report, working for a boss he obviously really respected, and recovering from a crush that had been--by his own report--unrequited.
He was still all those things, but now there was the added layer of mystery. Jai managed to neatly dodge any hint of where he lived, where his boss's business was, where he'd lived before that. He talked about customers, about cars, about his childhood in St. Petersburg--sometimes--and about mountains and sky and fish.
He did not, when all was said and done, talk much about himself.
And the only reason George was curious was that... that... he liked this guy. Genuinely, with all his heart. Their sex was incendiary--hadn't even begun to pall--but their time together in the quiet of the mountains had become just as precious as the sex.
So George was looking forward to meeting his mystery mountain lover by all means--but he wasn't so excited about explaining him to anybody else. Particularly when he got to the campsite and saw Jai building the fire in his shirt sleeves, a big bandage over his shoulder, and what looked like scuff marks on his face.
"Oh my God!" he cried, getting out of his truck--which had been purring like a kitten since it's once-a-month tinkering began in May. "What happened?"
Jai lifted the non-bandaged shoulder. "Work," he said calmly.
"Work? Did an engine fall on you? Let me see that--it's bleeding--"
"I have more gauze," Jai said, turning to take his hands, and then kiss him, slowly, a lazy smile on his face when he was done. "It is not important."
"But Jai! You're hurt!"
"No--I was hurt, but now I am healing. Isn't that what the bandages are for?"
George sputtered some more, and then Jai kissed him again, and George melted into him, suddenly glad--so glad--that he was there. "You could have been really hurt," he said brokenly into Jai's chest. "I wouldn't have had anybody to call me. I would have just... just shown up here, and I never would have known..."
"I would have texted," Jai said, and George wanted to thump him.
"Do you know how much that would suck?" George asked plaintively. "To show up and have you not show up? You're getting important, dammit!" He let out a miserable little sound. "And I bet nobody on your end even knows my name."
"No," Jai murmured against his hair. "Because they worry about me. And they would worry about you too."
George did thump him--on the non-injured shoulder. "So that's it? IT's just... just okay?"
Jai let out a sigh. "Are you going to go home now?" he asked politely. "I was going to start dinner, and if you're going to go home now, I don't need to cook as much."
"Would you even care?" George burst out. "If I turned around and didn't come back?"
And for the first time Jai's genial politeness faded, and he cupped George's jaw with a massive hand. "Of course I would," he said softly. "You are mine--and not much in the world is mine. It would..." He swallowed, and George saw the underlying hurt that his words had caused. "It would bother me a great deal, if I was never to see you again."
George let out a sigh, and his fight drained out of him. He went back to leaning his head on Jai's chest, feeling defeated when he hadn't even known there'd been a battle. "It would bother me too," he said unhappily. "You have no idea."
Jai took his chin between his fingers. "Ace and Sonny--they are good people," he said softly. "And my old boss owes them a debt he can't repay. But me... I... had no lovers of my own, you understand? Because they would be in danger. If you are my regular fuck in the woods, you are of no consequence to anybody looking to hurt me. If you are the man I want my boss to contact when I am injured, then someone knows who to look for."
George swallowed, and those early fears about Jai's past, who he might have been before his current job situation, resurfaced.
But that fear--that overwhelming fear--that Jai would disappear someday, and George would never know what happened--that overshadowed any fear that might've lingered.
"Tell your boss," he begged softly. "Just him. That's all I ask. Please?"
Jai sighed, and ran thick fingers through his hair. "My boss wouldn't have known what happened either, this time," he admitted. "He... well, he got knocked unconscious. By the time he woke up, the worst was over."
George pulled back, shocked. "Knocked unconscious? The actual hell?"
"It... there was a boy who had a sister, and bad people, and the boy was desperate and..." Jai made vague motions in the air. "It was all okay in the end. Will you believe me about that?"
"Jai, what happened to your shoulder? And your face?" George demanded.
"I had to make it okay!" Jai returned, apparently puzzled by the question. "Sonny was upset, Ace was unconscious--don't worry. The boy and his sister are just fine."
George took a deep breath and tried to find a question he could ask that Jai could maybe answer in a straightforward way. "Was there anybody else who wasn't just fine?"
Jai's smile should have chilled George to his toes--but instead, it made him feel safe. "Yes. There were some people who were very much not fine. But they hurt a lot of people, and they needed to be not fine for quite sometime."
George, your booty call is a cold-blooded killer.
George looked helplessly into Jai's guarded expression, and saw nothing but self-defense. He let out a breath and melted. This thing they had, this habit--it was, in fact, sustaining him. So many painful things--so much injustice and cruelty.
Jai just talked about taking care of people, and suddenly that was all George could care about. Jai, taking care of him.
"Dinner," George said weakly.
"Da. I brought steaks, and a grill for over the fire," he said proudly.
George pulled back from his chest. "One condition, though," he said seriously.
Jai tilted his head to the side, to indicate he was th inking about it.
"Tell your boss about me. My boss knows about you. My friend who watches my cat. Even my mother knows I have a friend I see sometimes on the weekends. They don't know your name, or anything about you--but they know."
Jai let out a sigh. "That is acceptable. But only Ace."
"Not Sonny?" George asked, stung--he'd gathered Jai had carried a bit of a torch.
"Sonny would fret about meeting you. He's not..." Jai grimaced. "A comfortable person. Ace."
Okay. That would have to do for now. If George wanted to sustain this life-giving habit, that was.
Their sex that night wasn't kinky--which was sort of a surprise, because Jai could be very kinky when he set his mind to it. Instead, when they climbed into the tent, Jai took his mouth and kissed tentatively, as though asking permission.
Or forgiveness.
And George, remembering his anger, his threat to leave, kissed him back hard, possessively, without reservation. Because the truth was, George couldn't have carried out on that threat. Not even if he'd known the whole truth, whatever it may be.
Jai--ex mobster, mechanic, whoever he was now--was George's. Unequivocally. And as George pushed him down on top of the sleeping bag and straddled his magnificent naked body, George recognized something basic and immoral in himself that claimed Jai for him. George got this man. Criminal? Probably. But he was George's--not his little secret, not his mountain man booty call--just his. Jai's body in George's, shoving, thrusting, fucking, was a right--not a luxury, or a privilege--a goddamned necessity.
George needed to see him again, like he needed to breathe, needed to scrape his fingernails down Jai's chest.
Needed to cry out, full and stretched and aroused beyond endurance.
Needed to come, moaning and sagging forward, watching with eyes adjusted to the darkness as Jai used his finger to scoop off a few drops and lick it from his skin.
Needed to bear it, to come again, when Jai grabbed his hips and fucked up into him, harder, harder, ah, gods, hard and fast and fuck him, George was going to fly apart and into the starry night sky beyond the thin fabric of the tent... ah God!
George disintegrated, his body still straddling Jai's, collapsed across his chest, Jai's cock still wedged solidly in his ass, but his soul...
His soul hovered in the night sky for a moment and looked at the remoteness of the stars, feeling their alienation, their indifference to all that went on below.
As George fell back into the tent, into his sated, sweaty, aching tingly body, that remoteness faded, and he was present, one with this giant of a man who would care for him, who made love to him so sweetly, with such animal tenderness, that George's whole being was centered here, their bodies locked together as one.
George wasn't strong enough to hover with the stars and pass judgment. He was human, and his human body, his human heart, needed.
Needed the man he was merged with, regardless of his crimes.
George had to believe he wouldn't hurt innocent people.
Because Jai took such exquisite care of George, and the habit--that precious, blessed habit--of trusting Jai was not something George could overcome.
HelLO Jai and George!
Now, for those of you who remember the timeline (and I often don't) Jai and George meet in the spring--I may have said March but I'm changing it to May. If we follow what was happening with Sonny and Ace, Redirecting the Blast happened in early September so Ellery and Jackson could investigate those events after Jackson's birthday, in late September.
And while we don't know exactly what Jai did--we do suspect it was quite a lot.
Enjoy!
* * *
"You going camping again this weekend?"
George nodded at Amal and laced up his sneakers. This particular shift had been pretty messy--he'd packed street clothes and had availed himself of the shower and had even brought his own body wash so he didn't show up in the mountains smelling like hospital.
Not that Jai had complained, of course--but more and more, George was trying to impress him.
"Yup. Annaliese is watching the cat--and probably drinking all my wine, which I plan for, so I only buy the shitty stuff, and I'm going camping." He took a deep breath of industrial cleanser scented air. "Clears out the old sinuses."
Amal narrowed his eyes. "Clears out something. Are you seriously meeting this guy again?"
George looked away and started packing his bag. "It's working," he defended. "Once every three weeks. You know. Meet, camp, fish, read, unplug, relax. It's better than a facial." He remembered their last time in bed and smirked. Jai, looming above him in the tent, fist wrapped around his mammoth cock, stroking himself off into George's waiting mouth. That sort of thing looked really good in porn, but anybody on the receiving end knew that come never really ended up in the mouth.
George hadn't cared. Jai's big, solid company, his kindness, the unexpected bursts of humor--these were the touchstones of why George showed up camping as often as he and Jai could meet.
The way he'd convulsed and come when Jai's semen had splattered across his cheek, his lips, his neck--that was the icing, in more ways than just licking it off his fingers.
"Is this a relationship?" Amal asked, still squinting. "Booty call? What?"
"Monogamous?" It was monogamous. George knew that much. Jai had shown him a recent test for their first three meetings until George had just told him that they would only bring condoms if the other one had sex with someone else.
Jai hadn't needed one, and George hadn't either--to the point where George had turned down more than one date with a guy who didn't look like a Marvin or a Gary or even a Steve.
He'd even turned down a date with a Buck, who had been built like a god with a goofy grin and a sense of irony, a paramedic who was super competent and hella sexy.
But he hadn't been six-foot-six and bald with a goatee and a fondness for fishing, so that was no good at all.
This thing in the mountains, this sort of sexual retreat, had been going on for nearly five months and George's only regret was there wasn't more of it.
That and he knew less about Jai than he had before.
That meeting in May, Jai had been a mechanic, ex-mob by his own report, working for a boss he obviously really respected, and recovering from a crush that had been--by his own report--unrequited.
He was still all those things, but now there was the added layer of mystery. Jai managed to neatly dodge any hint of where he lived, where his boss's business was, where he'd lived before that. He talked about customers, about cars, about his childhood in St. Petersburg--sometimes--and about mountains and sky and fish.
He did not, when all was said and done, talk much about himself.
And the only reason George was curious was that... that... he liked this guy. Genuinely, with all his heart. Their sex was incendiary--hadn't even begun to pall--but their time together in the quiet of the mountains had become just as precious as the sex.
So George was looking forward to meeting his mystery mountain lover by all means--but he wasn't so excited about explaining him to anybody else. Particularly when he got to the campsite and saw Jai building the fire in his shirt sleeves, a big bandage over his shoulder, and what looked like scuff marks on his face.
"Oh my God!" he cried, getting out of his truck--which had been purring like a kitten since it's once-a-month tinkering began in May. "What happened?"
Jai lifted the non-bandaged shoulder. "Work," he said calmly.
"Work? Did an engine fall on you? Let me see that--it's bleeding--"
"I have more gauze," Jai said, turning to take his hands, and then kiss him, slowly, a lazy smile on his face when he was done. "It is not important."
"But Jai! You're hurt!"
"No--I was hurt, but now I am healing. Isn't that what the bandages are for?"
George sputtered some more, and then Jai kissed him again, and George melted into him, suddenly glad--so glad--that he was there. "You could have been really hurt," he said brokenly into Jai's chest. "I wouldn't have had anybody to call me. I would have just... just shown up here, and I never would have known..."
"I would have texted," Jai said, and George wanted to thump him.
"Do you know how much that would suck?" George asked plaintively. "To show up and have you not show up? You're getting important, dammit!" He let out a miserable little sound. "And I bet nobody on your end even knows my name."
"No," Jai murmured against his hair. "Because they worry about me. And they would worry about you too."
George did thump him--on the non-injured shoulder. "So that's it? IT's just... just okay?"
Jai let out a sigh. "Are you going to go home now?" he asked politely. "I was going to start dinner, and if you're going to go home now, I don't need to cook as much."
"Would you even care?" George burst out. "If I turned around and didn't come back?"
And for the first time Jai's genial politeness faded, and he cupped George's jaw with a massive hand. "Of course I would," he said softly. "You are mine--and not much in the world is mine. It would..." He swallowed, and George saw the underlying hurt that his words had caused. "It would bother me a great deal, if I was never to see you again."
George let out a sigh, and his fight drained out of him. He went back to leaning his head on Jai's chest, feeling defeated when he hadn't even known there'd been a battle. "It would bother me too," he said unhappily. "You have no idea."
Jai took his chin between his fingers. "Ace and Sonny--they are good people," he said softly. "And my old boss owes them a debt he can't repay. But me... I... had no lovers of my own, you understand? Because they would be in danger. If you are my regular fuck in the woods, you are of no consequence to anybody looking to hurt me. If you are the man I want my boss to contact when I am injured, then someone knows who to look for."
George swallowed, and those early fears about Jai's past, who he might have been before his current job situation, resurfaced.
But that fear--that overwhelming fear--that Jai would disappear someday, and George would never know what happened--that overshadowed any fear that might've lingered.
"Tell your boss," he begged softly. "Just him. That's all I ask. Please?"
Jai sighed, and ran thick fingers through his hair. "My boss wouldn't have known what happened either, this time," he admitted. "He... well, he got knocked unconscious. By the time he woke up, the worst was over."
George pulled back, shocked. "Knocked unconscious? The actual hell?"
"It... there was a boy who had a sister, and bad people, and the boy was desperate and..." Jai made vague motions in the air. "It was all okay in the end. Will you believe me about that?"
"Jai, what happened to your shoulder? And your face?" George demanded.
"I had to make it okay!" Jai returned, apparently puzzled by the question. "Sonny was upset, Ace was unconscious--don't worry. The boy and his sister are just fine."
George took a deep breath and tried to find a question he could ask that Jai could maybe answer in a straightforward way. "Was there anybody else who wasn't just fine?"
Jai's smile should have chilled George to his toes--but instead, it made him feel safe. "Yes. There were some people who were very much not fine. But they hurt a lot of people, and they needed to be not fine for quite sometime."
George, your booty call is a cold-blooded killer.
George looked helplessly into Jai's guarded expression, and saw nothing but self-defense. He let out a breath and melted. This thing they had, this habit--it was, in fact, sustaining him. So many painful things--so much injustice and cruelty.
Jai just talked about taking care of people, and suddenly that was all George could care about. Jai, taking care of him.
"Dinner," George said weakly.
"Da. I brought steaks, and a grill for over the fire," he said proudly.
George pulled back from his chest. "One condition, though," he said seriously.
Jai tilted his head to the side, to indicate he was th inking about it.
"Tell your boss about me. My boss knows about you. My friend who watches my cat. Even my mother knows I have a friend I see sometimes on the weekends. They don't know your name, or anything about you--but they know."
Jai let out a sigh. "That is acceptable. But only Ace."
"Not Sonny?" George asked, stung--he'd gathered Jai had carried a bit of a torch.
"Sonny would fret about meeting you. He's not..." Jai grimaced. "A comfortable person. Ace."
Okay. That would have to do for now. If George wanted to sustain this life-giving habit, that was.
Their sex that night wasn't kinky--which was sort of a surprise, because Jai could be very kinky when he set his mind to it. Instead, when they climbed into the tent, Jai took his mouth and kissed tentatively, as though asking permission.
Or forgiveness.
And George, remembering his anger, his threat to leave, kissed him back hard, possessively, without reservation. Because the truth was, George couldn't have carried out on that threat. Not even if he'd known the whole truth, whatever it may be.
Jai--ex mobster, mechanic, whoever he was now--was George's. Unequivocally. And as George pushed him down on top of the sleeping bag and straddled his magnificent naked body, George recognized something basic and immoral in himself that claimed Jai for him. George got this man. Criminal? Probably. But he was George's--not his little secret, not his mountain man booty call--just his. Jai's body in George's, shoving, thrusting, fucking, was a right--not a luxury, or a privilege--a goddamned necessity.
George needed to see him again, like he needed to breathe, needed to scrape his fingernails down Jai's chest.
Needed to cry out, full and stretched and aroused beyond endurance.
Needed to come, moaning and sagging forward, watching with eyes adjusted to the darkness as Jai used his finger to scoop off a few drops and lick it from his skin.
Needed to bear it, to come again, when Jai grabbed his hips and fucked up into him, harder, harder, ah, gods, hard and fast and fuck him, George was going to fly apart and into the starry night sky beyond the thin fabric of the tent... ah God!
George disintegrated, his body still straddling Jai's, collapsed across his chest, Jai's cock still wedged solidly in his ass, but his soul...
His soul hovered in the night sky for a moment and looked at the remoteness of the stars, feeling their alienation, their indifference to all that went on below.
As George fell back into the tent, into his sated, sweaty, aching tingly body, that remoteness faded, and he was present, one with this giant of a man who would care for him, who made love to him so sweetly, with such animal tenderness, that George's whole being was centered here, their bodies locked together as one.
George wasn't strong enough to hover with the stars and pass judgment. He was human, and his human body, his human heart, needed.
Needed the man he was merged with, regardless of his crimes.
George had to believe he wouldn't hurt innocent people.
Because Jai took such exquisite care of George, and the habit--that precious, blessed habit--of trusting Jai was not something George could overcome.
October 7, 2019
The Namaste Lady, Redux
Does everybody remember the Namaste lady?
The lady I delighted by explaining what it would mean if our Traitor in Chief were rotting with syphilis from the inside out? I made her truly happy, I think--she said it was the happiest she'd been in three years, thinking about his flesh rotting from his bones in big painful nerve-searing lumps.
Goddess love her--we had another conversation today.
Now, I try to keep my, uh, spicier side out of the pool. My language is almost pristine (almost) and my sarcasm is dialed in low, but she's one of the few raging liberals there who knows all they have to do is turn the key in the lock and they see the real me.
Today, as we were doing short laps across the pool, bicycle style, the key in the lock turned out to be, "God, that LGBTQ ruling is going up to the courts today. I shudder to think about it." She has a grandson who is gay, and is fiercely protected. I adore her.
She said this in passing, so if you can imagine, the two of us get to opposite sides of the pool (or one of us got to the lane lines in the middle of the pool and the other got to the side) before we turned around slowly--sloth-style--bicycled back, and we could talk in passing again.
And I said, "Yeah, and Trump's got his dick so far down Kavanaugh's throat, Kavanaugh has to ask permission to breathe."
Well, my Namaste lady laughed for the entire time it took for us to reach our opposite ends and turn around, and on the next pass she said, "Thank you for that--that's delightful! It's the most disgusting image I can possibly think of. They're just such vile human beings."
We sloth-paddled to opposite sides, turned around, and came back again, and she said, "And it'll put me off my feed! I always eat too much in the fall! You're the best!"
So there you go. Sometimes, it's GOOD to show the real me.
But only with someone who appreciates a terrible description of the world's most awful people.
The lady I delighted by explaining what it would mean if our Traitor in Chief were rotting with syphilis from the inside out? I made her truly happy, I think--she said it was the happiest she'd been in three years, thinking about his flesh rotting from his bones in big painful nerve-searing lumps.
Goddess love her--we had another conversation today.
Now, I try to keep my, uh, spicier side out of the pool. My language is almost pristine (almost) and my sarcasm is dialed in low, but she's one of the few raging liberals there who knows all they have to do is turn the key in the lock and they see the real me.
Today, as we were doing short laps across the pool, bicycle style, the key in the lock turned out to be, "God, that LGBTQ ruling is going up to the courts today. I shudder to think about it." She has a grandson who is gay, and is fiercely protected. I adore her.
She said this in passing, so if you can imagine, the two of us get to opposite sides of the pool (or one of us got to the lane lines in the middle of the pool and the other got to the side) before we turned around slowly--sloth-style--bicycled back, and we could talk in passing again.
And I said, "Yeah, and Trump's got his dick so far down Kavanaugh's throat, Kavanaugh has to ask permission to breathe."
Well, my Namaste lady laughed for the entire time it took for us to reach our opposite ends and turn around, and on the next pass she said, "Thank you for that--that's delightful! It's the most disgusting image I can possibly think of. They're just such vile human beings."
We sloth-paddled to opposite sides, turned around, and came back again, and she said, "And it'll put me off my feed! I always eat too much in the fall! You're the best!"
So there you go. Sometimes, it's GOOD to show the real me.
But only with someone who appreciates a terrible description of the world's most awful people.
October 3, 2019
But Officer...
"Now ma'am, try explaining it one more time."
"Well, let's see-- it was just such a busy day. I was running around, getting the car looked at, getting batteries for the remotes, shopping, picking up kids..."
"Now you say you were shopping?"
"Yes sir--it's been a while. I mean, we had frozen food, but sometimes you need sandwich fixings and fresh fruits and veggies--and snacks... oh God... the snacks..."
"So about the snacks--"
"But there were vegetables! And meat! And good things! I swear there were healthy choices there--"
"Just the snacks, ma'am."
"Okay, fine. So, I bought snack food. Not too much, you know. I mean, look at me--I want the kids to eat better than I did when I was in college. And after. And when I was pregnant. And after. And now. So I bought snack food, but, limited quantities, right?"
"So, chips, cookies, ice cream--any of that?"
"Yes."
"Which was it, ma'am, chips, cookies, or ice cream?"
"I said yes! They're teenagers, man! They can't live on vegetables alone!"
"Okay, okay-- calm down. So you bought a bunch of junk food--"
"I said there were vegetables, dammit!"
"But back to the snacks-- what happened there?"
"Well, I was asleep, mind you. We got home from school, and I went down for a nap, and then I woke up to take the kids to dance lessons, and it was then that I noticed..."
"Noticed what?"
"Well first my son--he was eating a bag of pepperoni--"
"Snacking on pepperoni--"
"He ate the whole bag!"
"Well, is he growing, Ma'am?"
"God, probably. But he also ate a bag of cookies, and some chips, and his sister ate the rest of a bag of chips, and then when we got back with takeout he ate the rest of the chips... Oh God. Oh God--the horror, man! The inhumanity!"
"So, ma'am, let's get this straight-- you were robbed?"
"No! Worse! I was NOSHED!"
"Well, ma'am, like you said, they're teenagers..."
"We have a four day weekend coming up!"
"Well, I suggest you stop at the store!"
*breaks into open sobbing*
"Ma'am, I hate to ask, but is that bag of chips--"
*waves him on* "Go ahead. Eat. I don't care anymore. We can sell the cat."
"That's mighty generous of you ma'am--and look! Coke zero!"
"Yeah, yeah yeah..."
--Noshing. Don't let it happen to you.
"Well, let's see-- it was just such a busy day. I was running around, getting the car looked at, getting batteries for the remotes, shopping, picking up kids..."
"Now you say you were shopping?"
"Yes sir--it's been a while. I mean, we had frozen food, but sometimes you need sandwich fixings and fresh fruits and veggies--and snacks... oh God... the snacks..."
"So about the snacks--"
"But there were vegetables! And meat! And good things! I swear there were healthy choices there--"
"Just the snacks, ma'am."
"Okay, fine. So, I bought snack food. Not too much, you know. I mean, look at me--I want the kids to eat better than I did when I was in college. And after. And when I was pregnant. And after. And now. So I bought snack food, but, limited quantities, right?"
"So, chips, cookies, ice cream--any of that?"
"Yes."
"Which was it, ma'am, chips, cookies, or ice cream?"
"I said yes! They're teenagers, man! They can't live on vegetables alone!"
"Okay, okay-- calm down. So you bought a bunch of junk food--"
"I said there were vegetables, dammit!"
"But back to the snacks-- what happened there?"
"Well, I was asleep, mind you. We got home from school, and I went down for a nap, and then I woke up to take the kids to dance lessons, and it was then that I noticed..."
"Noticed what?"
"Well first my son--he was eating a bag of pepperoni--"
"Snacking on pepperoni--"
"He ate the whole bag!"
"Well, is he growing, Ma'am?"
"God, probably. But he also ate a bag of cookies, and some chips, and his sister ate the rest of a bag of chips, and then when we got back with takeout he ate the rest of the chips... Oh God. Oh God--the horror, man! The inhumanity!"
"So, ma'am, let's get this straight-- you were robbed?"
"No! Worse! I was NOSHED!"
"Well, ma'am, like you said, they're teenagers..."
"We have a four day weekend coming up!"
"Well, I suggest you stop at the store!"
*breaks into open sobbing*
"Ma'am, I hate to ask, but is that bag of chips--"
*waves him on* "Go ahead. Eat. I don't care anymore. We can sell the cat."
"That's mighty generous of you ma'am--and look! Coke zero!"
"Yeah, yeah yeah..."
--Noshing. Don't let it happen to you.
October 2, 2019
Real Life and Birthdays
Sometimes Birthdays are everything they're supposed to be--cake, ice cream, parties, a big to-do and a week where you can eat everything you want and not gain weight.
And sometimes birthdays are mired in the same sad, struggling everyday shit that threatens to get the best of us most days of the year--tricky finances, fender benders, car repairs, kids getting sick and Aunt Flo, that bitch, who thinks now is a bitchin' time to come visit when nobody has time or money to go shopping for Kotex.
This last one has sort of been the latter--but that doesn't mean there haven't been some highpoints that can be shared--
* Dad and stepmom had us over for dinner--a big picnic barbecue-- where they let us look through some of the pictures my Grandma Flossie took when she was alive. One of them was a picture of me, with my arms around my father's tiny mother, looking... well, less than pleased. Mate looked at that one and was like, "You look EXACTLY like our daughters--see? That's not all my fault!"
* Oh! We also found this picture of me, trying on my wedding dress while my stepbrother was doing the dishes. The thing about this one is that it looks creepy AS. FUCK. Yes, he's shirtless--and he has a porn stache. It was the 80's--a lot of weird things happened then. But I want to put this picture in my upcoming paranormal series. I mean... it's got to fit SOMEWHERE.
* My uncle asked us to go see his band perform at a little brew pub in Fair Oaks-- he was fun to watch, and the band he opened for was pretty spectacular!
* ZoomBoy took this picture of himself in his choir tuxedo. Be still my heart.
* Mate got a very cheap plane ticket to go see his friends in Colorado--I think he's sleeping on their floor or something. Go Mate!
* And I got... *drum roll* A coffee maker. I know, it doesn't sound super exciting--but it's the first one I've ever owned. I got sort of depressed about the environmental impact of all those McDonald's iced coffee cups, I'll be honest. And I convinced him that this would pay for itself in about a month--and I'm pretty sure it'll do better than that. I know that Chicken and Squish were sick today and they both got to watch me make my first iced coffee--I put too much cream and too much sugar in it, and we all laughed as I brewed two whole cups of coffee to make that work. But still--cheaper than McDonald's--and since I'm stuck home while Mate uses the working vehicle, a lot easier to obtain.
* And the knitting? Well, y'all, it's premiere week. And age has its privileges. Including this super thick, super quick yarn that I'm making a relatively low-rent poncho out of. Alas, too small for me--but it'll find a home.
And sometimes birthdays are mired in the same sad, struggling everyday shit that threatens to get the best of us most days of the year--tricky finances, fender benders, car repairs, kids getting sick and Aunt Flo, that bitch, who thinks now is a bitchin' time to come visit when nobody has time or money to go shopping for Kotex. This last one has sort of been the latter--but that doesn't mean there haven't been some highpoints that can be shared--
* Dad and stepmom had us over for dinner--a big picnic barbecue-- where they let us look through some of the pictures my Grandma Flossie took when she was alive. One of them was a picture of me, with my arms around my father's tiny mother, looking... well, less than pleased. Mate looked at that one and was like, "You look EXACTLY like our daughters--see? That's not all my fault!"* Oh! We also found this picture of me, trying on my wedding dress while my stepbrother was doing the dishes. The thing about this one is that it looks creepy AS. FUCK. Yes, he's shirtless--and he has a porn stache. It was the 80's--a lot of weird things happened then. But I want to put this picture in my upcoming paranormal series. I mean... it's got to fit SOMEWHERE.
* My uncle asked us to go see his band perform at a little brew pub in Fair Oaks-- he was fun to watch, and the band he opened for was pretty spectacular! * ZoomBoy took this picture of himself in his choir tuxedo. Be still my heart.
* Mate got a very cheap plane ticket to go see his friends in Colorado--I think he's sleeping on their floor or something. Go Mate!
* And I got... *drum roll* A coffee maker. I know, it doesn't sound super exciting--but it's the first one I've ever owned. I got sort of depressed about the environmental impact of all those McDonald's iced coffee cups, I'll be honest. And I convinced him that this would pay for itself in about a month--and I'm pretty sure it'll do better than that. I know that Chicken and Squish were sick today and they both got to watch me make my first iced coffee--I put too much cream and too much sugar in it, and we all laughed as I brewed two whole cups of coffee to make that work. But still--cheaper than McDonald's--and since I'm stuck home while Mate uses the working vehicle, a lot easier to obtain.
* And the knitting? Well, y'all, it's premiere week. And age has its privileges. Including this super thick, super quick yarn that I'm making a relatively low-rent poncho out of. Alas, too small for me--but it'll find a home.
September 30, 2019
Happy Kermit Flail Birthday to Me!
YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!
So yes--I know that this Kermit Flail is a wee bit early, but hey-- September 30th is my birthday, and I can celebrate how I want! As it happens, October 1st is Mate's birthday and my biomom's, Sept. 24th is Chicken's, Sept. 23rd is my Auntie's, and seriously-- there is so much celebrating going on that I get stuff done when I can!
So Happy Birthday to me--we've got some rocking Kermit Flail today!
For starters, we've got rock stars! Huzzah!!! You all know that's one of my favorites! And R.L. Merrill has given us a real angst sundae here--it looks terrific!
Summer of Hush
by R.L. Merrill
Hush is back… and it’s about to get loud.
After two years grieving the death of his best friend, Silas Franklin is back on the road with his metalcore band, Hush. With a new member, a brilliant new album, and a headlining spot on the last cross-country Warped Tour, life couldn’t be better—unless Silas could meet the intriguing music blogger known only as the Guru. Silas has followed his blog for years and feels the Guru might be the only person who “gets” him.
For years Krishnan Guruvayoor has reported on the metal scene as an anonymous blogger, and he’s just landed an internship on the Warped Tour as well as a potential position with a well-respected music magazine. His best friend arranges for him to meet singer Silas Franklin—but only as Krish the Intern. Their chemistry is instant, and Krish is thrilled to get to know the man behind the music.
The rock star and blogger quickly go from meet-cute to cuddle session, but secrets, overprotective bandmates, meddling media, and a terrible accident all conspire against them. Can their romance survive the summer of Hush?
Buy Here
And next in the lineup we've got the opposite of angst sundae-- we've got sexy theme park operators and Broadway music stars with a cozy mystery thrown in! Come check out I've Got this by Louisa Masters!
I've Got this
by Louisa Masters
Derek Bryer loves his life. His job as an assistant director at Joy Universe, the second-largest theme park complex on the planet, makes him indirectly responsible for bringing joy (pun intended) to millions of people. So what if none of his relationships are that close? Everyone he meets loves him.
Except Trav Jones. For some reason, the visiting Broadway performer would rather Derek just go away. He appreciates Derek’s work ethic, though, and after Trav steps up when Derek desperately needs someone to fill in for his sick staff, Derek seizes the chance to convince Trav he’s not such a bad guy.
Falling in love while distracted by a murder at the park, food poisoning, and colleagues laying bets on their relationship won’t be easy, but between the two of them and with the magic of Joy Universe, they’ve got this.Buy Here
So we've got the angst, we've got the quirk-- and then we've got this gem of a book by Kim Fielding. I don't get a chance to read nearly as many books as I'd like to, but I had the good luck to read this one, and it's just so damned sweet. Cal Walters is prickly and Teo is adorable, and together they work really hard to prove that fairy tales can come true. Come check out Drawing the Prince--it truly is an escape from your every day.
Drawing the Prince
by Kim Fielding
Painting themselves a life together will be a royal ordeal.
Small-town boy Cal Walters doesn’t know whether he owes his phenomenal success as an artist to talent or to his connections to famous people. Doubt leaves him secluded—until a lost bet lands him on yet another blind date. But this one is different.
To Teofilo Vabriga-Kastav, playboy prince of the tiny nation of Porvunia and passionate art lover, Cal’s paintings are as intriguing as Cal himself. When Teo invites Cal to his country for an art competition, a whirlwind romance sweeps them up. But it can’t last—loyalties and obligations bind them to lives that are worlds apart.
Cal and Teo might’ve found their perfect complements in each other, but to hold on to their happiness, they’ll have to get creative.
"[A]n enchanting royal affair."--Publishers WeeklyBuy Here
And finally... well, you know. Jackson. Ellery. Billy Bob, Jade, and Lucy Satan.
I mean, the gang's all here, right?
Come join them!
Fish on a Bicycle
by Amy Lane
Fish Out of Water: Book Five
Jackson Rivers has always bucked the rules—and bucking the rules of recovery is no exception. Now that he and Ellery are starting their own law firm, there’s no reason he can’t rush into trouble and take the same risks as always, right?
Maybe not. Their first case is a doozy, involving porn stars, drug empires, and daddy issues, and their client, Henry Worrall, wants to be an active participant in his own defense. As Henry and Jackson fight the bad guys and each other to find out who dumped the porn star in the trash can, Jackson must reexamine his assumptions that four months of rest and a few good conversations have made him all better inside.
Jackson keeps crashing his bicycle of self-care and a successful relationship, and Ellery wonders what’s going to give out first—Jackson’s health or Ellery’s patience. Jackson’s body hasn’t forgiven him for past crimes. Can Ellery forgive him for his current sins? And can they keep Henry from going to jail for sleeping with the wrong guy at the wrong time?
Being a fish out of water is tough—but if you give a fish a bicycle, how’s he going to swim?
So yes--I know that this Kermit Flail is a wee bit early, but hey-- September 30th is my birthday, and I can celebrate how I want! As it happens, October 1st is Mate's birthday and my biomom's, Sept. 24th is Chicken's, Sept. 23rd is my Auntie's, and seriously-- there is so much celebrating going on that I get stuff done when I can!So Happy Birthday to me--we've got some rocking Kermit Flail today!
For starters, we've got rock stars! Huzzah!!! You all know that's one of my favorites! And R.L. Merrill has given us a real angst sundae here--it looks terrific!
Summer of Hushby R.L. Merrill
Hush is back… and it’s about to get loud.
After two years grieving the death of his best friend, Silas Franklin is back on the road with his metalcore band, Hush. With a new member, a brilliant new album, and a headlining spot on the last cross-country Warped Tour, life couldn’t be better—unless Silas could meet the intriguing music blogger known only as the Guru. Silas has followed his blog for years and feels the Guru might be the only person who “gets” him.
For years Krishnan Guruvayoor has reported on the metal scene as an anonymous blogger, and he’s just landed an internship on the Warped Tour as well as a potential position with a well-respected music magazine. His best friend arranges for him to meet singer Silas Franklin—but only as Krish the Intern. Their chemistry is instant, and Krish is thrilled to get to know the man behind the music.
The rock star and blogger quickly go from meet-cute to cuddle session, but secrets, overprotective bandmates, meddling media, and a terrible accident all conspire against them. Can their romance survive the summer of Hush?
Buy Here
And next in the lineup we've got the opposite of angst sundae-- we've got sexy theme park operators and Broadway music stars with a cozy mystery thrown in! Come check out I've Got this by Louisa Masters!
I've Got thisby Louisa Masters
Derek Bryer loves his life. His job as an assistant director at Joy Universe, the second-largest theme park complex on the planet, makes him indirectly responsible for bringing joy (pun intended) to millions of people. So what if none of his relationships are that close? Everyone he meets loves him.
Except Trav Jones. For some reason, the visiting Broadway performer would rather Derek just go away. He appreciates Derek’s work ethic, though, and after Trav steps up when Derek desperately needs someone to fill in for his sick staff, Derek seizes the chance to convince Trav he’s not such a bad guy.
Falling in love while distracted by a murder at the park, food poisoning, and colleagues laying bets on their relationship won’t be easy, but between the two of them and with the magic of Joy Universe, they’ve got this.Buy Here
So we've got the angst, we've got the quirk-- and then we've got this gem of a book by Kim Fielding. I don't get a chance to read nearly as many books as I'd like to, but I had the good luck to read this one, and it's just so damned sweet. Cal Walters is prickly and Teo is adorable, and together they work really hard to prove that fairy tales can come true. Come check out Drawing the Prince--it truly is an escape from your every day.
Drawing the Prince
by Kim Fielding
Painting themselves a life together will be a royal ordeal.
Small-town boy Cal Walters doesn’t know whether he owes his phenomenal success as an artist to talent or to his connections to famous people. Doubt leaves him secluded—until a lost bet lands him on yet another blind date. But this one is different.
To Teofilo Vabriga-Kastav, playboy prince of the tiny nation of Porvunia and passionate art lover, Cal’s paintings are as intriguing as Cal himself. When Teo invites Cal to his country for an art competition, a whirlwind romance sweeps them up. But it can’t last—loyalties and obligations bind them to lives that are worlds apart.
Cal and Teo might’ve found their perfect complements in each other, but to hold on to their happiness, they’ll have to get creative.
"[A]n enchanting royal affair."--Publishers WeeklyBuy Here
And finally... well, you know. Jackson. Ellery. Billy Bob, Jade, and Lucy Satan.
I mean, the gang's all here, right?
Come join them!
Fish on a Bicycle
by Amy Lane
Fish Out of Water: Book Five
Jackson Rivers has always bucked the rules—and bucking the rules of recovery is no exception. Now that he and Ellery are starting their own law firm, there’s no reason he can’t rush into trouble and take the same risks as always, right?
Maybe not. Their first case is a doozy, involving porn stars, drug empires, and daddy issues, and their client, Henry Worrall, wants to be an active participant in his own defense. As Henry and Jackson fight the bad guys and each other to find out who dumped the porn star in the trash can, Jackson must reexamine his assumptions that four months of rest and a few good conversations have made him all better inside.
Jackson keeps crashing his bicycle of self-care and a successful relationship, and Ellery wonders what’s going to give out first—Jackson’s health or Ellery’s patience. Jackson’s body hasn’t forgiven him for past crimes. Can Ellery forgive him for his current sins? And can they keep Henry from going to jail for sleeping with the wrong guy at the wrong time?
Being a fish out of water is tough—but if you give a fish a bicycle, how’s he going to swim?
September 26, 2019
That sort of day...
What sort of day?
Well, to start with, I sleep with my phone--my alarm is on it, and I've gotten texts or calls in the morning more times than I can count. We don't have chargers in the bedroom, so it goes under my pillow.
Which is how you drool-dial your buddy and get awakened at seven-thirty (ten-thirty her time) by someone laughing their ass off because you've been a dork.
Good morning, sunshine! I'm awake! I'm awake! I'm ready to go take the dogs to the park! Just need my wallet, my keys, my sunglasses...
Oh shit! Where are my sunglasses? My disintegrating Fake-Ban prescription sunglasses that I need RIGHT NOW because the sun outside is like the piercing light of eye-fucking justice and driving with just my old (old, old) Ben Franklin style bi-focals and no shade makes me want to cry.
Or it makes my eyes water.
And did I mention the bifocals were old? Like a prescription from five years ago? Yes, I left the more recent (but still 3 years outdate) prescription in Florida, because--and I may have mentioned this-- I am a dork.
But dogs! Park! So I put the bifocals on, and then, floating around the house where one of my daughters (coulda been either one--no lie) have left them are a pair of cheap--as in FREE swag sunglasses from a convention a zillion years ago.
Oh my God.
They go on right over my bifocals.
I mean, RIGHT on over my skinny metal-rimmed glasses. You can barely see the prescription glasses under the cheap sunshades.
And for a moment, I'm very pleased with my ingenuity, and then then I remember my grandmother was a piece of work. Like, she could be incredibly unpleasant. And we used to tease her unmercifully because she wore regular glasses, and over them she put a sunshade--one of those Darth Vader/welder mask sunshades that she would pull over her glasses like a visor--and that I had, essentially, reinvented the patented Grandma/Darth Vader/Welder Mask look and that I was, in fact--you guessed it-- a colossal dork!
However, this dork managed her walk around the park and was very pleased to get home and start work. Except just when I sat down, I got a text.
Oh my God. My new prescriptions--plural, because new insurance-- had arrived, and I thought they had two more weeks to go. Think about it. I had mentally committed myself to Grandma/Darth Vader/Welder Mask infamy for the next two weeks, and, Oh my God, SALVATION!
I went and picked up my glasses and I was SO HAPPY!
So happy I actually looked for the cases so I could commit the Grandma/Darth Vader/Welder Mask dynamic duo to the car as extreme backup measures.
And that's when I found it.
The case for my disintegrating--but far less humiliating--very loyal, very functional, they survived a war, the lenses were still a little pitted and the frame was about to fall apart, Fake Ban sunglasses that I had just replaced with real Ray Bans.
*sigh*
I gave them a little pet as I retired them to their case in the car door. I mean, they should have fallen apart a year ago, right?
And I"m sort of going to miss them.
Cause I'm a dork.
Well, to start with, I sleep with my phone--my alarm is on it, and I've gotten texts or calls in the morning more times than I can count. We don't have chargers in the bedroom, so it goes under my pillow.
Which is how you drool-dial your buddy and get awakened at seven-thirty (ten-thirty her time) by someone laughing their ass off because you've been a dork.
Good morning, sunshine! I'm awake! I'm awake! I'm ready to go take the dogs to the park! Just need my wallet, my keys, my sunglasses...
Oh shit! Where are my sunglasses? My disintegrating Fake-Ban prescription sunglasses that I need RIGHT NOW because the sun outside is like the piercing light of eye-fucking justice and driving with just my old (old, old) Ben Franklin style bi-focals and no shade makes me want to cry.
Or it makes my eyes water.
And did I mention the bifocals were old? Like a prescription from five years ago? Yes, I left the more recent (but still 3 years outdate) prescription in Florida, because--and I may have mentioned this-- I am a dork.
But dogs! Park! So I put the bifocals on, and then, floating around the house where one of my daughters (coulda been either one--no lie) have left them are a pair of cheap--as in FREE swag sunglasses from a convention a zillion years ago.
Oh my God.
They go on right over my bifocals.
I mean, RIGHT on over my skinny metal-rimmed glasses. You can barely see the prescription glasses under the cheap sunshades.
And for a moment, I'm very pleased with my ingenuity, and then then I remember my grandmother was a piece of work. Like, she could be incredibly unpleasant. And we used to tease her unmercifully because she wore regular glasses, and over them she put a sunshade--one of those Darth Vader/welder mask sunshades that she would pull over her glasses like a visor--and that I had, essentially, reinvented the patented Grandma/Darth Vader/Welder Mask look and that I was, in fact--you guessed it-- a colossal dork!
However, this dork managed her walk around the park and was very pleased to get home and start work. Except just when I sat down, I got a text.
Oh my God. My new prescriptions--plural, because new insurance-- had arrived, and I thought they had two more weeks to go. Think about it. I had mentally committed myself to Grandma/Darth Vader/Welder Mask infamy for the next two weeks, and, Oh my God, SALVATION!
I went and picked up my glasses and I was SO HAPPY!
So happy I actually looked for the cases so I could commit the Grandma/Darth Vader/Welder Mask dynamic duo to the car as extreme backup measures.
And that's when I found it.
The case for my disintegrating--but far less humiliating--very loyal, very functional, they survived a war, the lenses were still a little pitted and the frame was about to fall apart, Fake Ban sunglasses that I had just replaced with real Ray Bans.
*sigh*
I gave them a little pet as I retired them to their case in the car door. I mean, they should have fallen apart a year ago, right?
And I"m sort of going to miss them.
Cause I'm a dork.
September 25, 2019
An Extra Cup of Coffee
So usually I only have one cup of coffee.Part of that is that I get so much sugar and cream in it, I'm practically drinking an iced Michael Scott (yes, we're watching The Office, still. Apparently all he drinks is CREAM AND SUGAR, and if you're not careful, that's what McDonalds gives you--it's happened to me twice in the last week.)
So anyway-- too much cream gives me gas. One cup.
Part of it is that I get a little crazy in the second half of the day if I'm fueled by an extra cup of coffee.
But ugh, I was dragging tail today, and I had so much I wanted to do. So I stopped for an extra iced coffee and right now I'm still WHEEEEEEEEE!!!!
Anyway-- nothing big to share--besides the WHEEEEEEEEE!!!
And, of course the pictures.
Squish and I always get to the spot where ZoomBoy comes to meet us about fifteen minutes early. I park in the shade, we turn off the car, open the windows, and chill. Today I caught a picture of her when she wasn't expecting it.
She wasn't pleased.
Particularly when I told her "Well, I haven't posted in Instagram for over a week."
And that expression was the result.
For ZoomBoy--well, he's been trying to start a cult of the box for a year now. After seven years my faithful soccer chair finally disintegrated and we ordered a new one.
OH!
And I'm teaching an adult ed seminar next semester, at Kaleidoscope, which is our local Junior College's adult ed campus. It's sort of the result of a lot of conversations that go like this--
First, picture me at the soccer field, hauling my chair (ah, chair, I'll miss you) and my knitting and generally wishing I was in the pool doing aqua instead.
Random Parent (RP): I hear you're a writer.
Me: Yes!
RP: I want to write.
Me: That's great.
RP: Maybe you could give me some pointers.
Me: What do you write?
RP: Well, nothing I've put together yet. Mostly I've got snippets."
Me: Of what?
RP: You know. This and that.
Me: Is it first person?
RP: It's sort of about God.
Me: So no.
RP: And being inspired.
Me: So maybe?
RP: And there's whole sections set in a country I've never been.
Me: So a fantasy?
RP: But it exists. I think. Is Peoria a real country?
Me: ... sort of.
RP: Anyway, I'd love to pick your brain.
Me: *wishes for helmet* Some other time--my kid's about to play!
For the record, my kid is nowhere near about to play.
RP: Catch you later! I can't wait to have this conversation!
Me: It'll be great!
Now seriously-- there's a lot here I could tell this person (were I not on a soccer field hauling a broken chair and knitting and, usually, my morning McDonald's coffee.) I could talk about genre, and how to start publishing small and free and where to look to publish larger and paid and I could talk about industry and independent versus agent versus acquiring editor and KU vs. Mass Market Paperback and...
And seriously
Lots of info.
Starting with, "What genre are you writing? What sub genre? What's your audience? What's their education level? What is your purpose?"
And, well, that's what the class is going to be about.
Probably not a laugh riot--but it may get me to my spot on the side of the field faster, right? Anyway, I'll be posting links for that next April, because I'm teaching the class twice.
And that's about it!
I'm not yawning yet--I should probably go write!
