Amy Lane's Blog: Writer's Lane, page 48

WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SMELL??? Redux

Okay, so we got a new mattress today-- one of the kinds that comes rolled up in a box? I napped on it. It was delicious.

Anyway-- that's not the point.

The point is, I was out of the house when it arrived, and Mate went into the garage and left the connecting door open.

I came home, walked in to the house, and you guessed it.

WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SMELL???????

Anyway--my eyes were watering. I stayed in the hallway because I was afraid to look into the garage--there might have been a mastodon decomposing in there and I was not in the mood.

So Mate said, "You can smell that, right?"

"Dead people can smell that. Dead people without noses can smell that. Ghosts in other dimensions can smell that."

"So it's not just me, right?"

"No. Close the garage door."

"Oh. Is THAT where it's coming from?"

"Pretty sure."

He closes the door, and we ignore the dead mastodon in the other room to get the mattress out of its box and unroll it on the bed. (Did I mention delicious? Mmmm...)

Later, as we're driving to his soccer game, kids in the back, I mention, delicately, "Do you think something in the outside refrigerator went bad?"

"Yeah. Maybe."

Beat. Beat.

Then he says. "Uh, I think last week? When ZoomBoy and I were BOTH using the electric weedwackers, I may have unplugged the outside refrigerator."

"Oh."

"And forgot to plug it in again."

"Oh."

"I'm so sorry."

"No, no-- shit happens."

"I mean, so sorry."

"No, no--I'm just glad to know what it was. I legit thought something died in there."

"I'm so sorry."

"You know what this reminds me of?" I asked him. "This reminds me of the time I wrecked two cars in the span of two weeks--brand new cars. And I got out of the second one after peeling the door practically off and sat on the front lawn and you said, 'What happened?' And I said, 'I am too stupid to live.' And then I cried, and you said it was okay.  This is okay. Seriously. As long as there's not a body, I'm fine."

And I am.

Of course... we both know who's cleaning that up, right?

Although I offered to try to find a crime scene cleanup that specialized in hazmat detail, I think when it comes down to it it's gonna be Mate, a pair of rubber gloves, and a refrigerator full of dead mastodons.

Things I'm concerned about vs. things my dogs are worried about

Hey all!

First of all, I'm going to talk up the RT BookLover's convention in Reno on May 15-20th. I've mentioned this to about five people--romance lovers all--in the Sacramento area, and they've all been like, "Really? My favorite authors are so close?"  (These are my family and friends, y'all--I'm not even close to their favorite author.)

And seriously-- these are people who read the big names and they're really star struck and then I show them who ELSE is going to be there  and they're... 

Well, flabbergasted because they didn't know that HAPPENED. 

And then they ask me what I'm going to be doing there, and I don't have the heart to tell them that I'm going to be putting on makeup and dressing like a grownup and pretending I fit in.

Anyway-- if you're looking to see what's going down and who's going to be there I've got sort of a press kit for you-- and a link: RT BookLover's Convention  so you can sign up if the other stuff looks really awesome.

Agenda Booklet http://bit.ly/2rhdZVF
FAN-tastic Day Booklet http://bit.ly/2rdUNsS
Book Fair Author Seating Booklet http://bit.ly/2Krd3a5

Anyway-- now, on to our regularly scheduled post:

Following is a list of some things that worry ME vs. things that worry the DOGS. You may see some marked differences in perspective.


Me: Word count--omg, is my word count high enough?

Dogs: I wish she'd get away from that machine.

Me: Is Squish going to be to on time?

Dogs: Is she going to take us with her? She always takes us with her. OH PLEASE TAKE US WITH YOU!

Me: Do you think the kids liked dinner?

Dogs: SHARE DAMMIT!

Me: Okay, home--time to gather all the things in the car and--

Dogs: SHE'S HOME! TIME TO GO BANANAS IN HER FACE AND A LITTLE BIT NUTS TOO AND THEN GIVE HER TONGUE!

Me: God, the bathroom is a DISASTER!

Dogs: What are you doing in there? Are you peeing? We pee in the park. You could pee in the park. Would you like to pee in the park? Let's go to the park. WE CAN ALL PEE IN THE PARK!

Me: Did I eat too much crap today?

Dogs: Did we eat enough meat today? I don't think we ate enough meat today. WOMAN FEED US MEAT!

Me: God I'm tired. When I get this all done I can nap!

Dogs: Zzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Me: Oh geez, I have deadlines and stuff I have to buy and paperwork and editing and--

Dogs: DID WE MENTION FEED US MEAT?

Me: And I need to get this sweater done to give to my friend...

Dogs: Why is she doing the thing with the string while we are TRYING TO SLEEP????

Me: And God I'm bushed. I'm just going to crawl under the covers with Mate and...

Dogs: LET US IN LET US IN YOU CANNOT SLEEP IF YOU ARE NOT PROPERLY GUARDED!

Me: I'm not sure my spine was meant to twist this way...

Dogs: PERFECT. END SCENE. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ....

Deadlines and Shit

So, I didn't do a blog tour for Stand by Your Manny which was probably a mistake, but seriously-- life has just taken a bite out of my life, right? And Mate, my wonderful supportive Mate, took the hint to turn off our usual TV fare because we both had stuff to do.
And then, while my back was turned, he pulled up Notting Hill.
And you know, the part where the roommate blows the smoke into his diving glasses is really hilarious.
And Mate has just such an awesome laugh-- the kind of laugh that used to wake the kids up.
And... and... Curse you Mate! I'm watching the movie when I should be writing dammit!
So anyway, I'm going to try to keep writing, okay?  In the meantime, don't forget, Stand by Your Manny, the third in the Mannies series is out. 
And Romantic Times BookLovers Convention is in Reno--and I'm in a surprising number of events and signing books in the Giant Book Fair.
And Chase in Shadow is part of the Keith Milano Memorial Fund sale in May!
And Crocus, sequel to Bonfires just came out about two weeks ago.
So I'm going to try to ignore Notting Hill and maybe catch up with some writing and editing--and plan for BookLovers Convention in Reno--which is gonna be tremendous!
Hopefully see you there!

Stand by Your Manny

Yay! Sammy's out!So, Stand by Your Manny is out tomorrow (today!) and I'm sort of excited!  (Exhausted, because Crocus JUST came out, but excited!)
Anyway, Stand by Your Manny is the third book of the Mannies series, and although Cooper is mentioned in book two, this book was well and truly completely Sammy Lowell's. 
For those of you who've read the series, in the first book, The Virgin Manny, Sammy is the child who needs a day care provider. He's a handful then-- by turns sweet and prickly and mourning the loss of his mother, he nevertheless captures Tino's heart and makes Tino's decision to stay with Sammy's Uncle Channing oh so much easier. 
As we saw in Manny Get Your Guy, Sammy has grown up. He has adopted siblings and he's devoted to them. In Manny Get Your Guy, he was just about to start his senior year, and for Sammy, that's when life throws him a curve ball, because that's when his anemia kicks into gear.
Now yes--I did research into this. Sammy's condition--aplastic anemia--is not often life threatening. Usually it only needs a blood transfusion from a matching donor. But Sammy's mother has passed, his father is out of the picture (and it's hinted that this is a very good thing) and Channing isn't a match. Sammy's role models are Channing and Tino-- they're like the Batman and Robin of the business world. Smart, busy, superdads, super uncles, super siblings --they're unstoppable. Sammy has a lot to live up to and a body that keeps yanking on his chain, saying, "Nope, Sam, can't do that. Gotta stop and rest there. Gotta get a transfusion. Can't keep going without taking care of yourself!" and he's PISSED OFF. 
But because he's had Channing and Tino in his life, and Nica and Jacob's family too, he's pissed off in a very nice way.
When Cooper comes to Channing and Tino's life--just in time to be their live in Manny and give Sammy some much needed time to his own pursuits--Cooper is the blessing Sammy never knew he needed. Cooper doesn't see Sammy's health condition--he sees Sammy, and that's a big deal to Channing Lowell's kid. All Sammy's ever wanted to be is as awesome as his role models--and here's someone who thinks he's better.
It makes for a very sweet book.
But Sammy and Cooper are young, and shy, and vulnerable, and this wasn't a Johnnies book. Not a lot of hot thrusting young guy action here--a lot more getting to know you, getting to love you sweetness. 
Some books are like that. Some couples are like that. I'm so glad I got to write Sammy's story this way.
So, Sammy's story is the third in the series, and there's going to be one more. Everybody remember that kid Nica was pregnant with at the end of The Virgin Manny? The kid that got Taylor in the eyepatch with the spoonful of lasagna? Yeah.
That kid.
He grows up to be just as much a handful as an adult as he was as a kid. 
These books have been fun to write, and sweet, and this family makes me happy. If you like fluff and families and kids everywhere, this could possibly be the Amy Lane series you love most.
I know I'm excited about it!  
Oh!
Today, release day, both Kim Fielding and I have 1/3 off the DSP website-- this might be your day to get the first three books at a VERY good price!
Stand by Your Manny--
The Mannies
Learning to trust and falling in love...

Sammy Lowell has his hands full juggling his music, college, some pesky health problems, and making the uncles who raised him proud. He needs help fulfilling his after-school duties with his siblings. Nobody can be in two places at once—not even Sammy! An injury puts Cooper Hoskins in a tough spot—if he can’t work, the foster sister he’s raising can’t eat. But years in the foster system have left Cooper short on trust, and opening up to accept help isn’t easy. Luckily, family intervenes—Cooper needs a job so he can care for Felicity, and Sammy needs someone who can see past his illness to the wonderful things he has planned for his life. Each heals the damaged places in the other’s heart. But falling in love is a big responsibility for young men deep in family already. Can the two of them get past their fear of the immediate future to see forever with each other?

Amazon
Dreamspinner Press

The Virgin Manny
The Mannies

Growing up and falling in love...
Sometimes family is a blessing and a curse. When Tino Robbins is roped into helping his sister deliver her premade Italian dinners when he should be studying for finals, he’s pretty sure it’s the latter! But one delivery might change everything.

Channing Lowell’s charmed life changes when his sister dies and leaves him her seven-year-old son. He’s committed to doing what’s best for Sammy… but he’s going to need a lot of help. When Tino lands on his porch, Channing is determined to recruit him to Team Sammy.

Tino plans to make his education count—even if that means avoiding a relationship—but as he falls harder and harder for his boss, he starts to wonder: Does he have to leave his newly forged family behind in order to live his promising tomorrow?
Amazon Dreamspinner Press



Manny Get Your Guy
The Mannies 
Starting over and falling in love...
Tino Robbins’s sister, Nica, and her husband, Jacob, are expecting their fifth child. Fortunately, Nica’s best friend, Taylor Cochran, is back in town, released from PT and in need of a job.

After years in the service and recovering from grave injury, Taylor has grown a lot from the callow troublemaker he’d been in high school. Now he’s hoping for a fresh start with Nica and her family.

Jacob’s cousin Brandon lives above the garage and thinks “Taylor the manny” is a bad idea. Taylor might be great at protecting civilians from a zombie apocalypse, but is he any good with kids?

Turns out Taylor’s a natural. As he tries to fit in, using common sense and dry wit, Brandon realizes that Taylor doesn’t just love their family—he’s desperate to be part of it. And just like that, Brandon wants Taylor to be part of his future.

Amazon
Dreamspinner Press










  A Fool and His Manny

Seeing the truth and falling in love...

Coming in July!

Death of a Pilot Fish-- Fish Out of Water Ficlet

Going to be out scattering Mate's mom's ashes on Saturday, and (as Forrest Gump says) that's all I want to say about that.




But I had so much fun writing Skip and Richie's ficlet yesterday that I thought I'd go for another one tonight--per usual, when my RL isn't functioning the way I want it to, my fictional life is my happy place--even when my characters aren't so happy ;-)
This is from the Fish Out of Water universe, and it happens after the second book,  Red Fish, Dead Fish.




* * *




Death of a Pilot Fish


Jackson remembered hating that time between Thanksgiving and Christmas when he was a kid. It seemed to serve no purpose--you went to school, but everybody was too wound up to do much learning, and that was when finals and papers were due anyway.


It just always seemed to be the time of waiting--waiting for Christmas, waiting for vacation, waiting for the promise of the new year.

Even if he knew these things weren't going to be awesome-- they never had been in the past-- he could recognize the painful optimism, even as a child.

As an adult, recovering from his injuries in Ellery's house while Ellery went back to work, the time was even worse.

It didn't help that Ellery was doing his best to do all the paperwork that putting an end to Tim Owens's reign of terror demanded, keeping the bulk of it from Jackson's shoulders. All that meant was that Ellery got home from work later than he usually did, and Jackson had spent the whole day knocking around the house fretting, not physically up to do more than wash the dishes, and not mentally up to keep the monsters at bay.

And the monsters were incessant.

What was he doing here, in this stellar house with the matching dishes and the soft leather couches? What was he doing taking advantage of some poor lawyer who seemed to think it was okay that Jackson just leech off him and not pay food or rent or for his own goddamned wrecked vehicles.

Both of them.

Wandering the house alone, Jackson had lots of time to tell himself the things he wasn't.

He wasn't smart.

He wasn't rich.

He wasn't polished.

He wasn't that good looking. (Particularly now when he was looking thin and haggard, thank you very much fever and infection and just not wanting to fucking eat.)

He was pretty much a useless has-been, his best function was cannon fodder, he was a human shield for better people than himself and it was just too goddamned bad Owens hadn't shot at him, because everybody knew that shot would have found its mark--finally.

When Ellery got home, exhausted and distracted, Jackson was a mess--he knew it. But he was damned if he'd tell Ellery.

For one thing, Ellery was working so hard for their future. For another, there just wasn't any time between Ellery getting home, changing clothes, eating some reheated dinner, and then falling asleep on the couch, his laptop precariously balanced as he worked in front of the television.

And Jackson, dammit, couldn't stay up much longer.

But sleep didn't come either--even if he'd gone running, dragging his sorry body out in the foggy cold to make himself tired wasn't helping at all.

This night, about five days before the firm cut everyone lose for winter holiday, was possibly the worst day of them all. Jackson had tried to run five miles and failed miserably, and Ellery had come home in a snit because the neighbor had called him at work to ask him pointedly who that man was lurching into his house.

They'd bickered when Ellery had gotten home--but at least he'd gotten home early, and bickering was how they communicated. That part had been fun.

But then Jackson had fallen asleep early, and Ellery had shooed him to bed while he stayed up and worked.

Jackson had been sort of hoping for sex--it's what the bickering often led to, and he'd gotten himself all ramped up, really.

So his nightmare started in a sexual haze of black.

There was a light here-- there had to be. There was always a light--sometimes it lied, sometimes it led to monsters. 
But there was always a light.

He breathed, he kept the fear away. He knew his dreams by now.

The light appeared. Dangling, bobbing, leading him away from the warm haze of want, the whirling place where the eels of despair kept stripping the flesh from his bones.

He followed it anyway. He needed to see. Needed to know there was an end.

Come away, come away, leave the blackness, come to the hope...

There was never hope. Nobody knew this like Jackson.

But he followed it anyway, because the whirl of his own doubts was a terrible place to be.

The light grew brighter, and he saw the silhouette of the light bearer. His heart clenched.

No. Oh no. Don't do this.

But the dreams were merciless.

And now he kept following the light, not because the light gave him hope, but because the light bearer was his only hope and he had no choice.

The straight posture, the narrow waist, the stiff, uptight walk. Even the chestnut colored hair precision cut, shaved on the sides and the back, a little long on the front, and ruthlessly scraped back with product.

In the dream, Jackson could even make out the individual comb marks from behind.

He kept going.

"Ellery?" he asked tentatively. Oh, Lord, how he longed for Ellery to be the one, in real life, who led him from the dark to the light. "Ellery, is that you?"

He was almost relieved when Ellery turned around with a horribly distended lower jaw, man-sized teeth and protuberant fishy eyes.

But that didn't mean he wasn't terrified, didn't scream, when the pilot fish that looked like Ellery tried to devour his soul...

"Jackson!" Ellery's voice echoed in his head and then cold hands held him down by the shoulders and shook him. "Jackson! C'mon, asshole, snap out of it!"

Jackson squeezed his eyes closed and started to shake. "Did I wake you up?"

"Baby, you were screaming."

"Sorry."

"No--"

"So sorry..."

"Don't be."

Ellery's surprisingly strong body engulfed him, tucked Jackson's head against his chest in a gesture of protection Jackson normally hated--any time but this time, exactly, when he was at his most vulnerable.

"It's okay," Ellery whispered while Jackson continued to shake.

"Sure."

What was it tonight?"

When the'd met, it had been once a week, maybe. Now it was almost nightly.

"Pilot fish. Looked like you from behind."

Ellery shuddered. "Those things are so fucking icky!"

Jackson chuckled against his chest. "You are telling me."

"Jesus... it tried to eat you?"

"Yeah."

"Gross."

"I'm saying." Jackson took a breath. "Looking like you was the worst part."

"Yeah."Jackson felt a kiss on the top of his head. "I'm sorry about that."

Jackson half-laughed. "WAsn't your fault."

"Oh no. This one was all me. Sorry."

"I don't understand how," Jackson mumbled. Ellery's voice in the darkness, his touch, his heat, all of it chased the dream away, leaving Jackson free to make himself comfortable in the tatters of his earlier sleep.

"I'll show you in the morning."

"Okay. Fine. Want waffles."

"Will you eat them?" Ellery sounded sufficiently dubious, but Jackson, warm and comforted and oddly optimistic, couldn't imagine not wanting anything different.

"Yes. Bacon too."

"I will get up early to make them. And we'll kill the pilot fish dream over breakfast, promise."

"You're good to me."

"Love you, Jackson."

Jackson sighed, melting into the words, the comfort, in a way he wouldn't have the year before.

"Yeah. You too."

And he fell asleep, dreaming of Ellery's hair, standing straight out all over his head.

That morning, he was eating his waffles, as promised, and trying not to let on what a struggle it was to just eat Ellery came in from the living room with a DVD and dropped it on the table.

"What's this?" Jackson asked, confused.

"This is why I turned into a pilot fish."

Jackson picked up the case. "Mysteries of the Deep." He gasped. "You were watching this?"

Ellery grimaced. "Just as you fell asleep."

On the front was a picture of a giant glowing pilot fish, so real and closeup Jackson got the willies just looking at it.

"Oh my God! Can we... I don't know..."

Ellery reached over his shoulder, smelling like shower and cologne, and cracked the DVD out of it's box. "Break it. Destroy it. Pound it with a sledgehammer. I don't care. Make it your mission in life."

"But wait!" Jackson saved it from Ellery's hands. "I want to watch it!"

"But your nightmare!"

"Yeah-- but now that I know what it was about, I want to see it!"

"But... but your dream!"

Jackson shrugged, looking at the back of the DVD case. "Yeah, but when I know what something looks like, I'm not afraid of it."

Ellery sighed. "That's bullshit. You know what I look like and you're obviously afraid of me."

Jackson sighed back and stood, wrapping his arms carefully around Ellery, being careful not to ruin his new suit.

"I just..." So hard to say. "It's hard to trust. You love me. You know? How do I trust that?"

"So I'm leading you to the light but I'm going to eat you instead," Ellery said, sounding a little crushed.

"Well, maybe if I see a real fish eating a real fish, it won't be you anymore."

Ellery grimaced. "Jackson, you ever think... maybe..."

"Nope."

"Of course not. Why would you possibly need a shrink. Never mind."

Ellery struggled out of his arms and Jackson let him go. "Hey, Ellery?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"Yeah, but you still think I"m going to eat you."

"Just let me watch the movie!"

"Fine."

Ellery flounced off to work, leaving Jackson to finish his waffles in front of the TV watching mysteries of the deep.


* * *

When Ellery came home, Jackson was watching the whole rest of the series on Netflix. HIs heart fell.

"Oh dear God, what's that?"

Jackson looked at him happily. "It's a moray eel--isn't it awful?"

Oh it really was. "So, are we trying to give ourselves nightmare fodder?"

"Nope! This is one more thing I won't dream about tonight!"

Ellery was about to argue with him, but it was fruitless--because it made sense. If Jackson didn't know about something, it scared him.

The one thing Jackson didn't know about was love. Power. Hope for the future.

"You might still dream about me," he said gently, because Ellery was all of those things for Jackson.

Jackson shook his head and looked away shyly. "Naw. Usually I dream about you in danger. I don't think you're going to eat me again any time soon."

Well, it was a start. "So, we really did kill the boogie man this time?"

Jackson grinned. "Yes! And there were some amazing shots of things being eaten. Want to see the rest of the series with me?"

Well, why not. "I'll order takeout."

They made love that night, Jackson taking him playfully, Ellery on his hands and knees to give Jackson more control. As they fell asleep, naked, covered in spend, still breathing harshly, Ellery panted, "So, no bad dreams."

"I didn't say that," Jackson said, wrapping his arm tighter around Ellery's waist as they spooned. "Just you won't be a mystery of the deep anymore."

Okay, well, it was a start. If they had to fight Jackson's dream one nature special at a time, Ellery was going to see that he had a decent night's sleep or die trying.

All things considered, it was easier for them both to kill the pilot fish--at least figuratively-- using a nature documentary though.

I AM A HUMAN FUCKIN' BEING! A Winter Ball Ficlet

Okay-- so I have my autism awareness post going live tonight, but I just got home from the Tire Company where I got a flat fixed, and for those of you who follow me on social media, I got... well, a little tiny plot bunny while I was there.

I'm writing Familiar Demon right now, so I'm not sure if I've got a place there for this nose-wiggling nugget. It may show up there, but just in case, I'm going to put it in Skipper and Richie's very capable hands.

For some reason, I could just hear Richie screaming this at the top of his lungs.  For those of you who didn't see my post, I bet you can guess which part it is...


*  *  *

Clang clang clang clang!

"Goddammit!"

From inside the house, Skip looked up from his laptop and grimaced. The sounds coming from the driveway did not bode well.

"Ouch!"

That was enough to get Skip up out of his chair and away from his online class in employee education, and moving toward the front door. "Hey, Richie..." he called before his hand even hit the knob.

"You--" Clang! "Will--" Clang! "Do--" Clang! "What--" Clang! "I'm--" Clang! "Telling you to no no no no no you dumb motherfucker no!"

Skipper screeched to a halt in front of Richie's middle-aged and much abused Toyota, not daring to get any closer in case Richie tagged him on the backswing with the wrench in his hand as he beat the hell out of something in the engine on the downswing.  Richie's face was streaked with grease and his knuckles were bleeding and the car was hissing and dripping fluid and it wobbled uneasily on the blocks Riche had propped under it after he'd pushed it up with two jacks.

"Richie!" Skip barked. "Enough! You're breaking it!"

"I can't break it!" Richie screamed into the engine. "Evil shit things can't be broken--I want this fucker to behave I need a fuckin' exorcist!"

But Richie paused on the backswing and Skipper managed to yank the wrench out of his grasp. Richie whirled around, hands on his hips, face contorted with rage--and almost with tears.

"Dammit, Skipper!"

"You're bleeding," Skip said logically grabbing his hand.

Some of the fight leaked out of Richie's body and he relaxed and let Skipper take a good look at his knuckles.

"You hurt yourself," he said softly. "What did that car ever do to you?"

Richie's lower lip wobbled. "It... it's gonna die, Skip. I mean, I'm a mechanic. This thing should be spinning like a top, but... you know. Got so caught up in the job and the dog and you and... I let the oil get sludgy and my gaskets are wearing and..."  He looked mournfully at the car, an identical twin on the outside to Skipper's, because they'd bought them both right after they'd gotten out of school.

"You never let mine lapse," Skipper said with a little smile.

"You take yours to the oil place," Richie told him, resentment coloring his tone, like Skipper didn't trust him with his car.

"I have better things to do with your time," Skipper told him with a slight smile.

"Like soccer," Richie said dryly.

"Sure."

Richie's mouth quirked up. "Fine. I'll take it to the quick stop place. But first..." He looked behind him and grimaced. "I gotta fix that shit I broke,  Skip. That's just embarrassing."

Skipper kissed him on the forehead. "Yeah. Sure." He looked woefully at Richie's knuckles. "I'll dress that after you come back in and wash, okay?"

Richie nodded glumly and pulled the wrench gently from Skipper's hand. "Don't mind me, Skip. Me and the car will find a way, okay?"

"Course. Just... you know. No more beating an unarmed opponent, kay?"

That got him a real smile. "Deal."

Skip went back to his class and finished his homework assignment, then stood and stretched. Richie was still swearing at the car, but the dispute seemed amicable, so he threw the ball to the dog a couple of times because he was getting bored and lonely in the backyard.

The dog sufficiently exercised--and fed a giant bowl of kibble-- Skip went in and made lunch for both of them, thinking wistfully of other things they could be doing on this gorgeous Sunday afternoon.

Most of them involved a cleaner, happier Richie, who was not wearing his old mechanic's coveralls. In fact, was not wearing much at all.

He was in the middle of grilling Richie's sandwich when suddenly the timber of Richie's voice went up to worrisome levels again. Skip slid the grilled cheese on a plate, turned off the heat and ran outside just in time to hear Richie crow triumphantly.

"See that you miserable piece of crap? See? I win, because I am a fucking human being!"

Skip had to laugh then, and Richie looked out from under the hood with his face wreathed in smiled. "D'you hear that, Skipper?"

"I did!"

"I won! Oil changed, hoses changed, fluids changed.  I can take her to the Quick Change with pride in my heart, right?"

"Sure, Richie--but come in and get cleaned up first. I made you lunch."

Richie's grin of triumph suddenly turned wicked. "I'm gonna come in and shower," he said. "Then I'm gonna eat wearing a towel. You know why?"

Skip wanted to kiss him so bad, but he held off, because this was a glorious plan. "Because you have better things to do with your weekend?" he asked, eyes sweeping Richie's knotty, muscular little body with greed. "And you are a fucking human being?"

Richie chortled and pulled a rag out of his pocket, wiping his fingers carefully and avoiding his knuckles. "And I wanna be the human you're fuckin'. Gimme five minutes out here, Skipper, then we can have lunch and desert, you think?"

Skipper leaned forward and captured his mouth and only his mouth, because it was the only clean part of him, even when it was saying filthy things.

"I think," he said, tasting his boyfriend and loving it. "Come on in when you're ready."

He was going to shower too, since he hadn't even taken off his sweats since he'd woken up. They'd been the responsible adults this weekend--now it was time to be fun adults.

They were human beings after all.

April 25th-- Autism Awareness Blog Hop

Autism Fact: 34% of children on the autism spectrum say that the worst thing about being at school is being picked on.

Hi all!

I'm participating in  RJ Scott's Blog Hop for Autism Awareness this month--my day is April 25th, and hopefully this goes out then because I still get very fidgety when I push "schedule" and then BOOM the post is up at a magic time.

Anyway...

The autism fact this year is chilling and it makes my heart hurt--but it also reminded me of a moment I was really proud of my own children, and I'm going to share that because I think there is a lesson there.

I've mentioned--many times--that my oldest son has a processing disorder, and is communicatively handicapped. Some of the markers are much like autism-- has difficulty making transitions from one activity to another is one. Fixates on small details that are easy for the neurotypical  to miss is another. And dealing with these quirks is a hard earned skill.

Fortunately, it's also one that makes for a better parent all around. I'm good at giving my kids warnings in increments before their environment changes--all of my kids. I'm good at giving my kids a moment to think and respond to the things I've just said--all of my kids. I'm good a assessing the environment as a whole to see what stimuli a child may be particularly invested in before I go around changing all the things.

All my kids.

These are good practices for all parents, all teachers, all caregivers--period.

But I didn't realize how much these habits of parenthood and kid-wrangling had seeped into my own children, and how much watching me dealing with their big brother would help my own children simply be more understanding human beings until about two years ago.

We were at the pool.

Now I go to the pool for aqua class, and for about an hour, my kids find someone else to play with and simply enjoy a bare spot of water. (Well, then, that's what they did. Now I make them go to aqua class, because they risk becoming inert during the summer months if we don't give them a little nudge.)

Anyway--my kids know how to swim, they're usually civil, and I keep a weather eye out for them as they play. They've yet to even catch the lifeguard's attention--it's all good.

And it was all good this day. I didn't know the little boy they were playing with, but they seemed to be having fun. At the end of the class though, one of the younger women came up to me. (I'm one of the younger women there--this should give you an idea of the aqua demographic.)  I'd seen her around and I smiled, and she said, "Hey, thank you kids today for playing with my son. That was really nice."

I shrugged. "They're decent kids--I'm glad they had fun."

"Yeah, but my son has autism, and it's not always... easy for him to find friends. He had a really good time today. Tell them thank you."

And then she walked away.

And my kids came to me--because we usually play dumb games like simon-says or tag or red-light/green/light after he class--and I said, "Hey, did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. He was nice. I hope we play with him again."

"Good. He enjoyed that. He's sort of like your brother--just keep being nice. You guys are awesome."

They didn't seem to think it was any kind of deal--and for that, I was so proud. Because patience, empathy, checking to make sure the person you're talking to is comfortable--these shouldn't be a big deal, but most of us humans have to work hard at these skills. But it's worth it. Not picking on somebody, not remarking on their differences, treating every human as a complete and perfect being just as they come to us can make such a difference in their lives--and in our own.

Being "aware" of of what it means to be neuroatypical isn't just good for those with autism or Asperger's or a processing disorder. Being "aware" means to be a little more patient, a little more sensitive, a little more empathetic to all human beings, regardless of any label we're aware--or unaware--of.

Being aware is good for us all. It makes us better people. It makes us teach better understanding and model better human behavior.

Being aware of autism is being mindful creatures on a burgeoning planet.

And it has lovely, unforeseen consequences that we should work towards with all our hearts.

Snoozing hounds, yarn books, and fungus

 Not much today--I mean Monday. I got to go to aqua-- yayayay!

But I did get a copy of Yarn, the Display edition, which has a short story I wrote in it. This looks like it might be an issue-wide thing--and the magazine is lovely. Full color, glossy paper, some amazing articles on fibers and technique. I'm in love--I wish we got it here in the states. And I get to have a story in it, and that makes me so excited!  Kyle and Cliff shall have many more adventures to come.

Oh!

And Squish got to read it. Because there was only a kiss.

She thought it was charming.
 And I took the picture below of Mate and the potato shaped hound because the potato shaped hound was dead to the world.

Bless her little heart-- that trashy bitch went through a lot of garbage today! She earned her slumber!

And finally, for dinner I took some chicken that I'd simmered in barbecue sauce last week and heated it up with some cheese and some mushrooms, because the mushrooms were going bad and this was my last chance to throw them in something.  The kids asked me what we were eating today, and I told them, "Sloppy fungus!"

Would you believe nobody batted an eyelash and everybody ate?

It was unexpectedly delicious.

Night everybody!

That Was Neat

So, Reno is... well, it's Reno. To quote Elliot Gould in Ocean's 11 "You're out in the middle of the fuckin' desert!" and while the quote is about Las Vegas, well, the shoe fits.

The college was lovely though--Mate went on their hiking trail while I was in class and pronounced it good. ("Oh, wow-- that's awesome!" I said. "Are you kidding? It had Pokegyms. I wasn't doing it for my health!")

I enjoyed the presentations during the little writer's conference, and I'm pretty sure mine went okay. My big worry--always--is that I'll remember the stuff that you can't put in an outline that makes a course good, and since I came up with MOAR stuff as I was talking, I think it was a success. (Somehow I open my mouth and stuff comes out... it's weird.)  Anyway--I met a writer from Harlequin who lives in Sacramento--that's awesome, right?

The funny part--and it was sort of hilarious--was the hotel room.

See, originally the kids were supposed to come with us. Mate was going to run them around all day and then we'd find something to do with the family in Reno and go home Sunday morning.  ZoomBoy got sick on Friday-- he was tired and just icky and had a fever of 101.  Chicken was going to spend the night with the dogs anyway so she came and watched ZoomBoy and Squish and Mate and I went up.

Now see, when the kids were supposed to come up, I got a cheap hotel. I just didn't know HOW cheap. I mean, I'd just had a nice experience with a Best Western that took dogs, and I didn't want to get the super nice room for just an extended day trip.  I thought, "How bad can a Motel 6 be?"

OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG... DON'T ANSWER THAT!!!

Now I know.

I mean, wasn't dirty or gross or anything like that. But the floor was cheap laminate and the bed was incredibly uncomfortable and the shower...

The shower was hilarious.

It was a corner unit, designed with the head hooked up on the ceiling, so it could shoot water at the corner, while you dragged a curtain over a semi-circular rail to protect you.

Except I finished my shower and walked into a... well, a lake. It was half-an-inch deep all over the bathroom.

"Oh my God! Mate! Water everywhere!"

Mate came in to look. "What did you do?"

"I swear-ta-dog, nothing! I mean, I closed the curtain and everything."

So Mate got in, and as soon as he turned the shower on--NOT standing in the cubicle--we saw the problem.

A three foot arc or water shooting out of the back of the showered, over the curtain and against the bathroom wall.

We laughed uproariously, because neither of us had gotten a lick of sleep on the highly uncomfortable bed, and both of us decided that we were too old for this shit.  We checked out right then and came home after dinner--it's a two hour drive, we wanted to sleep in our own damned bed.

But the seminar itself was nice, and we ate dinner with a friend (*waves frantically to Jason whom I adore*) and the drive home was pretty. I mean, you pass Truckee and Nyack and all the places that were sort of stand-ins for Colton and Dogwatch and the other places up Northeast in Amy Lane, right?

And we really did learn something important.

We're too old for shitty hotels.

Next time I book us a room, I'm taking the expensive room on the chin and enjoying the fuck out of it, even if I'm not getting a conference rate. Dude. Why not?

What's to lose but a decent night's sleep, right?

The Last Manny Cover Reveal, Bobby Green on Audio, and Amy in Reno!

Okay, folks--I am surprisingly tired considering I sort of hid in a corner and read all day. Not sure why the ol' psyche decided to bail on all the adulting I have to do, but I have to say, I'm feeling far more energized. I think sometimes writers really do need to READ books, and these last two days I've treated myself to Mary Calmes, Annabeth Albert, and Melinda Leigh. I feel like I can write again, and that's pretty splendid, really!

Anyway...

I promised you lots of goodies, and here we go.









First off--

I will be at Truckee Community College on Saturday, along with Gayle Brandeis, Sheree Bryokofsky, and Anna J. Stewart, participating in their writing workshop. I'll be giving a talk about world building --if you've got worlds enough and time, come meet us there!

REGISTER HERE


Second off--

Bobby Green and Red Fish, Dead Fish are both
 out in Audiobook, and I've listened to the sample and it's GORGEOUS. So, you know, anybody who's interested in that should go check it out, right?


I know some of you are audio aficionados--enjoy!

Blurb:

Vern Roberts couldn’t wait to turn eighteen and get the hell out of Dogpatch, California. But city living is expensive, and he’s damned desperate when Dex from Johnnies spots him bussing tables.

As “Bobby,” he’s a natural at gay porn. Soon he’s surrounded by hot guys and sex for the taking, but it’s not just his girlfriend back in Dogpatch—or her blackmailing brother—that keeps him from taking it. It’s the sweet guy who held the lights for his first solo scene, who showed him decency, kindness, and a smile.

Reg Williams likes to think he’s too stupid to realize what a shitty hand life dealt him, but Bobby knows better. What Reg lacks in family, opportunity, education, and money, he makes up for in heart. One fumbling step at a time, they connect, not just in their hearts but in their bodies, where sex that’s not on camera, casual, or meaningless, becomes the most important thing in the world.

But Reg is hampered by an inescapable family burden, and he and Bobby will never fly unless he can find a way to manage it. Can he break the painful link to his unrealized childhood and grow into the love Bobby wants to give?

Buy Audio Book Here



Red Fish, Dead Fish--Blurb

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 trigger-man 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' 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.


Buy Red Fish, Dead Fish HERE




And last but not least, the cover and blurb for the last Mannies book-- and honestly? This one might be my favorite (although Sammy is coming out in May, and it's hard to say. I mean... SAMMY!!!)  But I've loved this series and it will be hard to say goodbye--but hopefully really sweet and romantic too.


A Fool and His Manny

by Amy Lane


Seeing the truth and falling in love.

Dustin Robbins-Grayson was a surly adolescent when Quinlan Gregory started the nanny gig. After a rocky start, he grew into Quinlan's friend and confidant—and a damned sexy man.

At twenty-one, Dusty sees how Quinlan sacrificed his own life and desires to care for Dusty’s family. He’s ready to claim Quinlan—he's never met akinder, more capable, more lovable man. Or a lonelier one. Quinlan has spent his life as the stranger on the edge of the photograph, but Dusty wants Quinlan to be the center of his world. First he has to convince Quinlan he’s an adult, their love is real, and Quinlan can be more than a friend and caregiver. Can he show Quin that he deserves to be both a man and a lover, and that in Dusty’s eyes, he’s never been “just the manny?”
OUT JULY 1ST! 




And with that, I'm off to Reno tomorrow night! Have a nice weekend everybody--wish me luck on Saturday!
Amy