Amy Lane's Blog: Writer's Lane, page 90

Movie Weekend

Sorry all--this was a movie weekend for us, and since I'm also prepping for RWA, well, blogging got thrown out the wayside.We saw Tarzan--and really enjoyed it.

Yes, I know, there are people who are going to complain that it was just eye-candy, and that Margot Robbie's American accent was exceedingly modern, and that Samuel L. Jackson was... well, Samuel L. Jackson--awesome, but distinctly himself.

To which I respond with an enthusiastic, "Yes! Yes! Yes! All the things! The good and the bad things! The half-naked blond guy swinging through the trees things! The chemistry between the man and the woman without a chance of slash1  Yes! I was well and truly entertained, and I am not ashamed!"



Or something like that. Anyway, uh, you know. Liked the movie. Had a great time. Popcorn!  *nom nom nom nom*

We also saw The Secret Life of Pets, which was also highly entertaining. Mate and I decided that the best part about it was the secret love notes it posted to pet owners everywhere.  It was really a love story between owners and their pets, and I know enough of us are besotted by our fur babies to really appreciate something like that.

We also had a soccer clinic, which was sort of fun. The kids ran around for two hours and I got to sit and watch Mate be regal and club-presidential, which was nice. He's really good at making families feel like this is an okay investment into their time--very balanced. (I may be biased. He IS my Mate!)

And now? Work. Work work work.  I'm leaving for San Diego at crotch-o-dawn on Tuesday, my trusty Mate by my side, who will help me drive without losing complete grasp of reality.  I'm driving home on Sunday, with Karen Rose as my copilot, and I have to say, between Mate and Karen, I couldn't ask for better company.

But, uh, I may be a little thin on the blogging.

Forgive me--but I swear I'll collect con stories for you for when I get back.

So, I'll probably blog tomorrow, but if now, those of you who have been here for a while will know where I'll be.

If you guessed running around the house screaming, "WHERE THE HELL IS MY THING?" while the dogs cower and the spouse laughed, you'd be right.

I don't understand

So, a year and a half ago, at ZB's 11th birthday, I took this picture, and my heart broke a little.

I love all of the little boys in that photo--the one on the left has since moved away, but I talk to his mom sometimes on FB, and I'd seen him grow, playing soccer since he was eight years old. We still see the one on the right (and his little brother, the short one ;-) and his adorable family--they, in fact, gave us our adorable little dog.

But this picture was taken in November of 2014, and the country was becoming steadily aware that old hatreds--hatreds we'd thought had been put to bed, were in fact alive and killing our young men in brutal ways.

I looked at this picture--the three spazzy boys (and yes, all of them are ADHD like whoa) and realized that whereas I saw three equals, my son and his friends, kids I loved, the police force in this country did not see the same kids I did.

They saw the one on the left as a threat.

I loved that kid. Loved his mom, loved his two twin brothers.

I saw friends.

And our law enforcement was apparently looking at this family and seeing "scary people".

I wanted to do something. I wanted to change that prejudice. How could they not see the kid on the left as just as awesome, just as much fun, just as wonderful, as the kid on the right, or the kids in the middle?

I feel so helpless, watching my country tearing itself apart like this. Baton Rouge, Falcon Heights,  Dallas--how are we still fighting this war? (I looked back to my post after Ferguson--I said the same thing. Arghh!!!)  How do people look at that picture of those awesome kids and not see four beautiful boys?

How are we still giving guns to assholes who think guns are the answer? That's cops and snipers and terrorists--all of them. The number one questionnaire on the paperwork to get a gun should be, "Do you think the gun is the answer?"

IT'S NOT THE FUCKING ANSWER, PEOPLE!!!!

Ask a school teacher who walks into her classroom unarmed, if she thinks a gun would make her job better or worse. She doesn't have a gun to enforce order--she has personal skills to de-escalate situations. She has respect for her students and a willingness to do what's best for them at the expense of her own ego. She has the knowledge that if things go south, she needs to rely on her wits and her own force of will.

I recently found out that an old colleague of mine talked a kid out of his gun in the middle of her classroom. He handed her the thing and she said, "I"m sorry. I've never touched one of these. I don't know what to do with it."

"Maybe we should just put it down."

Do you know what would have happened if a cop had been in that room?

Everybody would have fucking died, because he would have drawn another gun and there was nowhere else to go.

And I know policemen--black and white policemen, for anybody who cares. They are good men. They are kind, and good fathers. I've seen them studying for sergeants exams and restless because injuries have kept them out of the field. They've been kind to me (soccer parents are mostly kind, I've found) and funny, and have laughed at my dumb jokes and rooted for my kids on the field.

I don't want to go to their funerals. Their children must be so scared.

I know I am so afraid--for everybody.

But mostly for those boys in the picture, and their siblings, and the other children they're growing up with. Because we have let them down.

Because we're still fighting this war.

*flails* ALSKAR!

Okay, so it was fairly cool today-- 85 or so--and the pool was actually cold if you weren't working really hard.  And then the aqua instructor (my friend, Trina) sort of blew my mind.

"You know, I was watching ads for that new Tarzan movie, and I don't know who the guy is who's playing Tarzan, but I sure did think he was pretty. Does anybody know who he is?"

I almost drowned.

Okay-- I haven't blogged about this before, but someday I'm going to talk about all of those people who either don't own or don't have time to live on their computers, because they're pretty awesome. There are some people out there who maybe spend fifteen minutes checking their e-mail, but aside from that, and answering their cousin's sallies on FaceBook (or their friends or clients) they really don't have much use for that big expensive brick of mercury and soil death hanging out on their kitchen table.  I know that for some of us, this is unthinkable-- we're addicted to the bright light and the bringer of knowledge--but don't pity the non-addicted. They have the freedom to do things like go out and ride 200 mile bike races and visit relatives in faraway places and volunteer in alpaca farms and with burn victims and... okay, this is mostly Trina, but my parents are this active too, and I am sorely aware that dependence on electronics really does hamper some of my reality time.

Anyway, my point is, that although most of the people in my universe may actually be gasping because she did NOT know who Alskar was, the fact remains that she was ripe, and mine to educate.

I hunted her down after the class while she was rounding up gear.

"Trina, have you seen the Avengers movies?"

"Yes!"

"You know the old scientist, the one who was wandering around without his pants in the second Thor movie?"

"Yes! I like him!"

"That's Stellan Skarsgard-- he's Alexander Skarsgard's father. Alexander is the hot blond guy in Tarzan."

"Oh! That's cute that they're in the same business together!"

I, of course, and remembering Stellan as the vicious warrior in the Clive Owen version of King Arthur, as well as the overbearing professor in Good Will Hunting. "Yeah, they're adorable. But if you haven't seen True Blood--"

"I've heard of it!"

"Excellent. There's a lot of pictures of him, and other really hot guys, wearing not so many clothes in that show."

"Oooooh..."

I nod.  "It's totally worth it to Netflix."

She is, of course, enchanted with the idea, and I feel conflicted.

On the one hand, I have done my job and spread the Hot Guy Eye Candy for this lovely woman who has been my aerobics teacher for over five years and whom I adore.

On the other hand, I may possibly have addicted her to True Blood, and since I know she spends her free time doing outstanding and amazing things (I was not kidding about all of the volunteering and cycling she did-- she's sort of really wonderful) I may have robbed the world of a force of good.

But then, if I did, I had help.

There's not much we can't blame on Alskar's abalicious chesticles, right?

Mmmmmm... Alskar....  

You! Go to Doggie Jail! Right now!

I admit-- I was a little skeptical when my parents invited us to bring our dogs for a "dog party" during the 4th of July.

They live in Placer County, which has lots of long, dry grass, and fireworks were illegal this year. Instead of the traditional fireworks, my parents invited people with dogs, so the dogs could play and get away from all the big-boom-shit that happens during the 4th.

This is actually a nice idea--for nicely behaved dogs.

Which only one of mine is.

Johnnie was great. He spent most of the time under my seat, occasionally licking my foot as if to say, "Mom, that 100 lb. Lab scares the crap out of me. Make him stop."

Geoffie?

Well, she saw her first dog besides my parents' dog, Max (who gets along with all things terrestrial, apparently) and went yapping after that big Akita's ass. And then Luna the Akita turned around and barked--and Geoffie ran screaming into our arms.

We decided she wasn't safe around civilized dogs, so we put her in a pen in the corner of the yard, surrounded by blanket, with her leash staked to the ground. (We had to do this carefully. She tried to hang herself a couple of times, and her pen was probably the most carefully watched blank spot in the universe. Oi.)  And she barked. The whole time.  Her barking followed the classic "extinction" model--the flurries got shorter less often, but she never really stopped.

*sigh*

It was such a lovely idea.

By the end of the evening, she was sitting on Mate's lap, exhausted, growling whenever one of the bigger dogs lumbered into the circle of lawn chairs as we talked.

And the big dogs?

Well, one of them tried to go visit, but we distracted him and he jumped into the swimming pool instead. (This was fairly impressive--he scaled the 5' side of the pool in one leap.)

And of course Max was busy roughhousing with the real dogs.

My mom and I were sort of sad. Geoffie is absolutely sure she's a big dog--she just hasn't figured out that big dogs don't yap, and that yappy dogs are annoying as crap.

So, next time there's a dog party, my dogs will stay home.

But other than that, it was a lovely 4th of July!

Happy Kermit Flail July!

YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!!
So, I've got to tell you-- if anybody ever wonders if my gigantic YAYAYAYAYAY!!! at the beginning of the Kermit Flail posts is sincere and heartfelt? Well, I do all my loading and formatting of the post BEFORE I write my copy. So YES, it is definitely sincere, because ALL THE LOADING AND LINKING AND FORMATTING!!!
ESPECIALLY for this month's Kermit Flail, because July comes with extra awesome, I guess!
Speaking of which-- since this goes live on the morning of the 4th, I linked all of the DSP or DSPP books to DSP instead of amazon.com, because DSP and its affiliates are having a 4th-of-July sale, and all novels are $4 a piece--even the ones on presale, so now's a good time to hop in it while the hopping is hot, right?
And we've got some GREAT stuff this time around.
For starters, we have TWO Dreamspun Desires, and the first one has the world's greatest name.  Now remember the Dreamspun Desires are category romances--think Harlequin or Mills and Boone or Silhouette. For those of us who grew up on those romances--or sacrificed our mad-money to them in the kids-were-babies-and-we-had-no-money days, this is a big, happy, exciting deal. The first one, from my friend Kate McMurray, has the world's best title, too- you'll know it when you see it!  And the second one, by Rick R. Reed and Vivian Dean is equally steamy and precious. For those of you who loved the het category romances when you first started reading romance, by all means get on board with these! 
Next, we've got sort of a special celebrity appearance by Eric Shaw Quinn.  Now Mr. Quinn and his equally talented, witty and brilliant friend Christopher Rice have a podcast called The Dinner Party Show--I put a link by Mr. Quinn's book, and I've listened and it's funny and urbane and a real treat.  Eric's book looks a little more serious, and it's one of my favorite themes--the blending of legend and history and belief and hope and romance that makes us feel like the past never truly dies, and that love has been around in all its forms from the very beginning. Please check out The Prince's Psalm-- I already have it on my Kindle, and although I'm sort of ass deep in alligators atm, I'm really looking forward to it when I get the chance.
Also on our roster we've got JP Barnaby, as well as Ariel Tachna & Nikki Bennet and Nicole Forcine, all of whom are notable because besides being the most awesomest writers ever, they're my very good friends too. In fact, JP, Ariel, Nikki and Nicole are almost an embarrassment of riches when it comes to friends--I am actually getting all verklempt here-- JP, who is known for her heart ripping prose and her painful coming of age stories has been my staunchest supporter even when it felt like the world wanted to kill me with fire. Ariel and Nikki have been there since--literally-- the very beginning. They were my entre to Dreamspinner, and to writing, and to the sheer, giddy glee that came with publishing a book with your name on it. And Nicole has been a good friend--and a very enabling fan, given that she started my FB group, Amy Lane Anonymous, and given that I know she's an incredibly ACTIVE activist for all things good in the world, I am just so grateful for her help and friendship.  So there you go--four ladies I adore, and they have shown up HERE! (See why I get so happy?)
Add to that the delightful John Inman (who is also lurking on my Kindle, because our PUBLISHER recced him to me!) and the quirky and fascinating urban fantasy of Elizabeth Noble, well, can you SEE why that YAYAYAYAYAYAY!!! is the real thing?
So-- don't forget-- sale at DSP right? Because nothing says Happy 4th like diving into a book!

(ETA-- oops! This is totally my bad, folks-- I thought the sale extended to DSPP, but it doesn't! So sorry about that!)
Oh... oh yeah... there may possibly be a presale link for my own book at the bottom. EEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! Just thought I'd mention it, because dudes. I'm so excited about Fish!
Happy 4th!!!
Amy





The Greek Tycoon's Green Card Groom

by Kate McMurray

Marriage gets less convenient when love is involved.

It started simple: Ondrej Kovac marries Archie Katsaros so Ondrej can stay in the US, away from his judgmental family in eastern Europe. Archie marries Ondrej in exchange for the money to bail out his failing company. It’s a fraud neither man is convinced he can pull off.

But as Archie introduces Ondrej to New York society and Ondrej proves his skill in the office, they start to discover a connection between them. Can they overcome the rocky foundation their relationship was built on, meddling immigration agents, gossip columnists determined to out their deception, and an aggressive executive set on selling Archie’s company out from under him? Only if they can prove to each other their love is worth fighting for.

Buy at DSP






The Prince’s Psalm 

by Eric Shaw Quinn
1 Samuel 18:1 & 3 “And it came to pass that the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as he loved his own soul. Then Jonathan and David made a covenant, because he loved him more than he loved his own soul.”



David not only slew Goliath, he won the heart of Prince Jonathan, heir to the throne of Israel. Theirs is the sweeping, romantic tale of two star-crossed, warrior lovers whose passionate affair changed history and gave rise to the nation of Israel. The legacy of their love stands at the center of the world still today, 3000 years later. The Prince’s Psalm is the detailed account of one of the greatest love affairs from history and the bible. This epic love story comes, chapter and verse, from the pages of the Old Testament Books of Samuel; brought to light, through painstaking research and the considerable storytelling skills of New York Times Bestselling Author, Eric Shaw Quinn in his novel The Prince’s Psalm.

The Dinner Party Show

Buy At Amazon
Buy at DSPP




Stranded With Desire
by Vivian Dean and Rick R. Reed
BLURB
When their plane crashed, their desire took flight.


CEO Maine Braxton and his invaluable assistant, Colby, don’t realize they share a deep secret: they’re in love—with each other. That secret may have never come to light but for a terrifying plane crash in the Cascade Mountains that changes everything.


In a struggle for survival, the two men brave bears, storms, and a life-threatening flood to make it out of the wilderness alive. The proximity to death makes them realize the importance of love over propriety. Confessions emerge. Passions ignite. They escape the wilds renewed and openly in love.


When they return to civilization, though, forces are already plotting to snuff out their short-lived romance and ruin everything both have worked so hard to achieve.

Buy at DSP




Checkmate
by Nicki Bennett and Ariel Tachna

All for Love: Book One

When sword for hire Teodoro Ciéza de Vivar accepts a commission to “rescue” Lord Christian Blackwood from unsuitable influences, he has no idea he’s landed himself in the middle of a plot to assassinate King Philip IV of Spain and blame the English ambassador for the deed. Nor does he expect the spoiled child he’s sent to retrieve to be a handsome, engaging young man.

As Teodoro and Christian face down enemies at every turn, they fall more and more in love, an emotion they can’t safely indulge with the threat of the Inquisition looming over them. It will take all their combined guile and influence to outmaneuver the powerful men who would see them separated… or even killed.

Buy at DSP




Anthony
by JP Barnaby

Aaron Downing worshiped his mother. She saved his life. She did everything for him. But Anthony Downing has a different perspective. He sees the woman who tossed him into a basement for eight long years and forgot he existed. When Anthony decides he’s done being invisible, he packs up and heads for Detroit to stay with his Internet friend Jay, but fate intervenes.

Brendan Mears lost everything the day the man with a gun came into his father’s store. Now, he’s tethered to a business he can’t manage and a brother who resents him.

Different in all the ways that matter, Anthony and Brendan struggle to overcome their psychological obstacles, until a crushing betrayal sends them running for cover and each other.

Buy at DSP




My Busboy
by John Inman
Robert Johnny just turned thirty, and his life is pretty much in the toilet. His writing career is on the skids. His love life is nonexistent. A stalker is driving him crazy. And his cat is a pain in the ass.

Then Robert orders a chimichanga platter at a neighborhood restaurant, and his life changes—just like that.

Dario Martinez isn’t having such a great existence either. He needs money for college. His shoes are falling apart. His boyfriend’s a dick. And he has a crap job as a busboy.

Then a stranger orders a chimichanga platter, and suddenly life isn’t quite as depressing.

But it’s the book in the busboy’s back pocket that really gets the ball rolling. For both our heroes. That and the black eye and the forgotten bowl of guacamole. Who knew true love could be so easily ignited or that the flames would spread so quickly?

But when Robert’s stalker gets dangerous, our two heroes find a lot more to occupy their time than falling in love. Staying alive might become the new game plan.


Buy at DSP



Code Name Jack Rabbit
by Elizabeth Noble
Meet the newest members of the Vampire Guard, where legend and myth meet science and technology.

Jonas Forge, vampire. Once a spy and soldier, now a cop, Forge enjoys the life he’s built with his friends in Flint, Ohio.

Blair Turner, PhD. Blair, a vampire and computer hacker with exceptional skills, shares a powerful empathic bond with Forge, his soulmate.

Declan, vampire, ex-pirate, ex-fur trapper, thief, and con man. Declan is Forge’s former lover and soulmate to Lucas Coate.

Lucas Coate, MD, Flint’s medical examiner. A werewolf living amongst vampires, Lucas is also one of Forge’s best friends.

Their lives become complicated when an impending presidential visit throws them headlong into a world of high tech vampire spies and espionage. Recruited into the Vampire Guard by the secret society of the Akhkharu Nasaru, they uncover a werewolf terrorist organization known as the Qiguan.

Together they must thwart a murder attempt on the open waters of Lake Superior while tracking a previously unknown biological weapon controlled by the Qiquan—a weapon that may very well mean death for one of them.

Buy at DSPP



Settling Down
by Nicole Forcine
Little Earthquakes: Book Two

It’s been six months since Tim and Jae got together, and they’re giving Domestic Discipline an honest try. But when conflicting events conspire to interrupt their life, Tim starts to fray at the edges. He’s doing his best to handle everything, but he still struggles with unaddressed issues, both past and present. And seeing Tim trying to hold it together is breaking Jae’s heart.

There has to be a breaking point, and when it arrives, it’s Jae’s turn to take the reins, to provide them both with what they truly need.

Buy at DSP




Fish Out of Water
by Amy Lane

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.
Pre-Buy at DSP

I think that would be best.

Okay, lady--sit down here. It's all gonna be okay, ma'am, just tell us how it happened.

Well, Officer, it started out like any other Friday. Took the kids to the pool, everybody got lunch, went down for a nap. And then I woke up from a nap and it all went to shit.

So what happened? Fire? Thieves? You look like a good mama bear-- did somebody mess with your kids?

No, no. Kids were fine. I just woke up from my nap and their rooms weren't clean.

Did you ask the kids to clean the rooms?

No--but damn, when I woke up, I was PISSED to realize they weren't clean. I mean, they haven't been clean in years, but suddenly? Heads were gonna fuckin' roll. 

*officer edges away* Oookaaaaay... So, rooms weren't clean. You flipped out--

No, no-- didn't flip out. I stewed. I stewed, a turned the heavens black with my stewage, and then my husband got home and it all got worse.

*starts texting for backup and a straightjacket and a shrink*  Gotcha. How bad did it get.

Oh, it was bad. First, he asked me what was wrong. Then, when I pouted at him, he made dinner for me. Oh, I tell you, I was boiling mad. Then, when he had a soccer game, I was furious. 

Well, ma'am, if your husband came home from work and left you in that state--

Well, no. He didn't leave me. He asked me to come with him. See? I put the pictures of old people playing soccer all over the net.

Oh. Uhm. Very nice. He looks like an excellent player. So, then, what happened next?

Well the soccer game was fun, actually--got to talk to one of his wounded teammates, I like her. Then we came home and stopped at the market and I bought four boxes of Klondike bars and two giant bags of potato chips. With dip.

Oh. And did you eat them all?

No. Of course not. *laughs evilly* But I could have. Oh, yes. I could have.

So, you became angry--

Not just angry--homorhoidal ragealicious. I was HOT. 

Are you angry now?

Uh, no, actually.

And then you got hungry.

STARVING.

I can see that. Lady, there is no food in here, give it up. So, after you got hungry--

I got... *blushes*  Well, let's just say my husband never knew I was angry.

Oh. So, angry, hungry, horny-- any of the other seven dwarves?

Sleepy. Saturday might as well not have happened. 

And...

Achy. Death awaits anyone who touches my boobs.

Aha. So, this is Sunday, ma'am. What brings you in here?

I think there's been a homicide. 

Your husband? Your kids? Your dogs?

No. They're all fine. But... *voice breaks*  The blood... oh dear God, the blood...

Uh, lady?

Yeah?

I think you need a pound of chocolate and some maxi pads. Does that sound about right?

*starts crying*

And there's the other dwarf. Weepy. Here, hon. Hide out in the corner until it's over.

Oooookaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy.... *cries and cradles giant box of feminine hygiene products while stuffing face in a blessedly quiet corner*  Thanks, officer. You've been very kind.

Yeah, well, I'm a figure of your imagination after all. I do my best. Have another chip, sweetheart--balance out all that sweet.

Mmmmffff....

Scorched Haven: Part 10-- Daybreak

Okay-- whew! I've actually got so much to do, I've been burying myself in my new WIP to escape it. (How's that working for you, Amy? Well, now I've got both a backlog of work, AND WIP insomnia, AND a crushing deadline, thank you.  But my WIP is still not long enough, so there!)

So I'm sorry my blogging has been off.

I'm trying to put together publicity packets for Fish Out of Water now that I have a link, and of course there's Kermit Flail tomorrow, and did I mention the kids were in my office full time during summer and my sanity is stretched to it's limit?

So I need to escape into my writing.

And lucky me, I left Zeb confused and about to be fucked into the heartland and in need of a morning after.

Happy escape everyone!
*  *  *

Daybreak

Zeb was used too is werewolf metabolism healing him faster, making him stronger. He was used to a night of acrobatic sex being nothing more than a pleasant memory and a hope for a further friendship.

What Colton did to him, between sunset and sunrise was not going to be healed with the bruises and aches that came with a sexual marathon.

Zeb woke slowly, feeling much the way he had after his first change--disoriented, destroyed, renewed. He peered into the gray sky, feeling the temperature plummet in the deserted fruit grove and huddled deeper into the sleeping bag, edging away from Colton's somnolent form.

Colton snaked out an arm and pulled Zeb up next to him.

"God, you're stubborn," he whispered.

"Preparing myself," Zeb said back, honestly. He was exhausted. New werewolves could literally fuck until their bodies burned muscle--he and Colton had only stopped having sex to eat. Four times. Zeb's skin was flaking with dried spend--thighs, ass, chest, chin, cheeks, hair. In spite of having eaten almost five pounds of ground beef, all he could taste was come.

There was no room in him for anything but honesty. Not to save his dignity, or his pride, or his heart.

"Why?" Colton asked, his embrace possessive. Zeb didn't know how he'd missed it--his drive, his determination, his resistance to his friend's coercion. Colton was an alpha werewolf. Maybe not the alpha. Teague pretty much had that locked with his wiry, no bullshit military bearing, but Colton was a leader, a possessor--a man who could claim another man and not give a fuck about timetables.

"You need to get to Green's," Zeb muttered, feeling dead. "You'll get there and you'll have safety. You'll see."

Colton blew out a frustrated breath. "I don't accept that answer," he said, which wasn't surprising because he'd been rejecting it all night.

"Ask another question."  Could they get an hour's worth of sleep in before they had to be on the road? Maybe two? What was it, four? Five in the morning?

"Why a werewolf. You didn't tell me that."

Hadn't he? Zeb tried to remember. "They're warm blooded," he answered. He gave in to yearning and stroked his cheek along Colton's bicep, savoring the contact of skin to skin. "I loved Adrian, but he was cold..."  So cold. "I'd felt like that when I was high. I wanted to feel alive."

"Mm..."  Colton nuzzled the back of his neck, but not in a sexual way, really. Zeb accepted it, eyes closed. Now, maybe, sleep?  "Why'd you start getting high in the first place?"

No. No sleep.

"Same old bullshit," Zeb muttered. "Mommy and daddy didn't love little gay Zebulon, and their big happy family didn't miss one kid to put through school."  It was so embarrassing now. It was, in fact, how many of the men and women at Green's Hill ended up at Green's Hill. Because in some way, shape, or form, their own families or world had rejected them, and they set out to find a better one.

Or had the good fortune to get seduced by Adrian, and he brought them in and showed them how.

"I love gay Zebulon," Colton chuckled, nibbling at his neck. Zeb felt him, getting hard again against Zeb's backside. When Colton moved his outside hand to lift Zeb's thigh and give him access, it was just as easy to give it. His entrance was so slick and used after the night before that Colton's cock slid in with only a little pressure, and Zeb had no chance to let the pleasure was over him, a passive beach assaulted by waves over which he had no control.

"I love gay Colton," Zeb answered, lost and honest in a way he might to have been if they hadn't been in the throes of sex and passion for the past eight hours.

"You do!" Colton crowed, thrusting a little faster. "You said it!"  Damned brat--his voice was only a little strained.

"Ahhh..." Zeb sighed, his first climax washing through him, his traitorous cock giving up a little bit of come.

Colton laughed throatily and bit his shoulder hard. He sprouted fangs, just enough to puncture, and the pain woke Zeb up, added another dimension to the hallucinogenic layering of sex and pleasure and exhaustion that left him helpless to Colton's overtures of love.

"Colton," he moaned, and Colton pumped his hips harder.

"I told you," he whispered, licking the punctures at Zeb's neck as they closed. He locked his fingers in  Zeb's hair and slammed hard, his body making a new form inside Zeb's, like it would fit there forever.

"Wha'...ohhh..."

"You will always say my name," Colton told him.

"Colton!"

"Again!"

"Colton!"

"Who loves you!"

Oh! Green, Adrian, Teague, Cory, just not like this, never like this, not like--"Oh Goddess!" he cried saying her name in the purity of a heart that could not bear to be broken.

"Say it!"

Zeb broke, one more orgasm wringing his body dry, sobs rocking his stomach, Colton's body taking over, rendering Zeb a helpless acolyte to his stunning belief.

"Colton," he wept. "Colton."

With a groan, Colton spent inside him, and for a moment they could hear nothing under the dawning sun.

"You love me to, right, Zeb?"  Colton asked, sounding uncertain for the first time since they'd arrived in this place.

"Yeah," Zeb mumbled, meaning it.  "Yeah. Of course I do."

He closed his eyes, waiting for the shoe to drop, the spell to be over with, Colton to wake up and realize what they could not be.

It wouldn't change the fact that his heart had been remade in the past day--it would just make his nakedness complete.

*  *  *

They woke up a couple hours later, sweating in the sleeping bag. Colton crawled out and gave Zeb a hand into what was left of the irrigation ditch, and they washed each other off.  Zeb could hardly meet Colton's eyes as he stood and let the younger man rinse his body off like it was a sacred object.

Colton hunkered, down on his knees in the running water, and looked up at him beseechingly. "Admit it," he said huskily. "Admit it was real."

"It was real to me," Zeb said, stroking his hair back with utmost tenderness. "But we need to get going."

Colton stood and kissed him, hard. "We'll get back to your house, and it will stay real," he assured.

Zeb nodded, without words. He was done trying to explain--he would simply accept and deal. It was all he had, for the time being.

In that quiet of the morning, when the cars had barely started on the road, they both heard it.

They met desperate eyes.

"Was that?" Colton whispered.

"Yeah. Clothes, keys, phones--now!"

The scrambled, their morning hunger and tumultuous emotions forgotten. They'd heard it--the shaky, shrieky howling of a deranged wolf.

And the return of another member of the pack.

They dressed in record time and then Colton grabbed the bag while Zeb grabbed what was left of the food. They heard the howl again just as they started across the grove.

"How far out?" Colton asked.

Zeb started running. "Close enough to hear our voices. Another fifty yards he'll be able to smell us."

"Faster!" Colton hissed, and together they sprinted with supernatural speed across the terrain. They threw their gear in the backseat and Zeb started the car and pulled out before either of them had even closed their doors. As he screeched onto the road, a cacophony of howling broke out and in his rearview he could see an entire pack, running to keep up with the car as he stepped on the gas.

They disappeared in the rearview, and Zeb slowed down a little and cracked his window, listening and smelling with his heightened senses. Shit.

"They're organized," he muttered. "There's wolves in front of us calling to the ones behind us. Look for a side road."  He pulled Colton's phone of the charger.  "We need to get on the freeway at this point. How close are we to Turlock?"

"I'm looking, I'm looking," Colton muttered.  "Damn. I always knew good sex didn't come free."

Zeb snorted.  "Well, I hope you got your jollies, kid, because it's gonna be a while before you get that much time in bed again."

"Colton," he growled. "And we.  Say it, Zeb."

And they weren't in bed, and Colton wasn't breaking him with tenderness and pleasure.

And Zeb was still washed clean of evasion and prevarication and  done with protecting himself from this terrifying young man who now thoroughly owned him.

"Colton," he repeated. "And we."

"Good. Now you've got about a hundred yards before you can hang a left and break through the oleander onto the freeway. It's risky but--"

Cherry lights--far ahead, maybe a mile, and easy to see on this straightaway.

"Hold on to your ass Colton, we're gonna make a left!"

Summer Days

Apologies for missing the blog last night. Actually started a conversation with my significant other, and oddly enough, work did not figure into it.   Anyway-- it was a pleasant little break but I'm back again (sorry!) and although my life hasn't gotten any more exciting than it was yesterday (when I posted about how exciting editing WASN'T) I do have a pocket full of random.
*  First I need to thank Rayna Vause for publishing this on my FB page, and now I shamelessly stole it. Someone on FB said it's an actual place between Reno and Vegas and it backs up to a graveyard. I personally think it's the scariest fucking thing I've ever seen.
*  I remember reading Alice In Wonderland and thinking that I didn't understand this chick's hard-on for hot buttered toast. I now think cinnamon raisin English Muffins and butter are the best things in the world.
*  Squish tried to make one of those stuffed animal kits today, the kind that comes with two socks and shitty directions? I was trying to edit and hold a conversation and do all sorts of work related stuff, and she came to me about six hundred times to untangle nine feet of dental floss and help her sew a rainbow striped sock into a cat feet. 
I may not have been the best mother in the world on the seventh, eight, and ninth time this happened.
*  This meme right here is the reason for the existence of photoshop. And FB. And the Internet. Thank you Marlene Rosenzweig for this one--it made me VERRA happy.
*  Big T knocked my sunglasses off a shelf in the bathroom, then stepped on them, then screamed at me for leaving them on a shelf in the bathroom. Big T does not want the extra big present at Christmas, now does he? He might not even get dinner tomorrow at this rate.
*  ZoomBoy has been reading Dilbert. He recently told me that a cat's but produces "the equivalent of a dead badger cooked in mustard gas", and I blame Scott Adams.
*  I'm making this poncho for a friend's daughter. The super annoying part (making the granny squares and putting them together) is almost over, and I'm totally looking forward to about six to eight inches of edging at the neck and at the bottom, and a really lovely, full and deep hood. 
*  At first I thought the remains of Squish's project looked like what was left when the wiener thief strikes again, but now I think it's more of a peek-a-boo phallus-see. Heh heh heh. Yeah, I'm insufferably pleased with that--ignore me.
* And I have started a project that isn't my norm, and I may or may not continue with, and I'm a little nervous about.
I know that's not a lot of information--someday, I may spill the beans about it. In the meantime, have a nice night!

Did I mention it was hot?

I was expecting the heating and air guy to show up sometime today. I was NOT expecting him when I was sans bra at 8:15 in the morning. I mean, not that I BLAME him-- all the better to crawl around up on top of our roof without getting cooked like a bug on a car hood, right?
But it did put off my morning walk a little, and by the time I got out at 10:30, it was 92 degrees at 30% humidity. By this afternoon, it was 104 degrees, same humidity.
I recognize that there are hotter places-- that meme of Florida being like the surface of the sun has been passed around a lot, and I seem to recall New York being a bit swampy in August but none of that changes the fact that sometimes, some days, it's just better to hunker down in the air conditioning and do all that stuff on your desk that you were fleeing the fuck away from during vacation last week.
Today was one of those day, and thank heavens the Air Conditioning was working.  We had to replace a part--I didn't even have to ask Mate. See, I was raised with tough people. Country people. I visit my parents and it's 90 degrees in their house and the kids whine and I whine and they laugh at us for being soft and stupid and weak.
Mate doesn't. 
Mate is the opposite.
I used to have this regimen, right?
Where every night I would turn off the AC and run around and turn on all the fans so that we would get a cross breeze and we would save money, and I would be the daughter of tough, hardworking people.
And it was sort of like the thing where I didn't dry my laundry I hung it up on clotheslines.  
I did that too. 
And one day, Mate came home and said, "I will work any amount of overtime just could I please not have fucking stickers in my underwear?"
Same thing with air conditioning.  "For the love of God, I will do anything, plant trees, give to charity, just please, for sweet fuck's sake turn on the fucking AC. And while you're at it, turn it down."
So when it comes to forking over a part to make the AC better, I know it's not a problem.
Just as I know he doesn't think I"m a bad mother when, at one in the afternoon, our son turns to me and says, "Yay! I'm creating Carbon Dioxide!"
Because really, that's all he's done all day, and we like to celebrate our accomplishments.
Now tomorrow, we're going to the pool, and there will be dance, and some movement and industry will be expressed.
But for tonight, the air conditioning is on, and we're all hibernating like the useless mammals we are.

California Girls

So, we have hit the 104 degree days, with about 30% humidity. It's not Texas or the Imperial Valley, but it ain't bad.

I went to my aqua class today, and the instructor's speaker went out right before the end of the class.  The pool was full, of course, and the instructor (who is a lovely, chipper girl in her late twenties) said, "You can do it! If you need to, sing!"

So, if you will, picture a pool full of chubby middle-aged and elderly ladies, doing synchronized moves with big floaty tubes-- singing this:




Yeah.

So in addition to editing (so boring), and a  grocery story date with Mate, that song was a lot of my day.

*toddles off to bed singing* I wish they all could be...