Josh Lanyon's Blog, page 59

Advent Calendar - Day 21

Five magical things I love about this season:
1 - Mistletoe







2 - Reindeer












3 - Snowflakes















4 - Fragile glass ornaments handed down through generations

















5 - Ancient stars burning in the night sky















What about you? Are there five things you find magical this time of year?


Answer below and I'll pick ten, or possibly more, of you to win a print book. Now,  I will not be shipping anything before Christmas. AND I cannot guarantee what title you'll end up with -- I'm not even sure what all I've got here at this point -- but if you let me know what book you're interested in, I'll see if I have a copy. ;-)

Advent Calendar - Day 20

As we get closer and closer to the holiday, I get a bit more sentimental and, er, sappy. Come on! It's not just me.

My dad's all time favorite Christmas movie is Holiday Inn. (My mom's--for the record--is The Bishop's Wife and I do not mean the remake with poor old Whitney Houston.) And I never watch Holiday Inn without wondering what it is that appeals so strongly to my male parental unit. Is it just nostalgia for a times past? I don't know. It's an entertaining movie, mostly, and it's certainly a peek into the popular mindset of the 1940s. It's also the first appearance of Bing Crosby singing "White Christmas".

So...there you go.



Do you have a favorite Christmas movie?

Advent Calendar - Day 19

Oops! I have a little bit of a head cold and so today's offering is a few hours late. But here it is -- a vintage Christmas cartoon for your viewing enjoyment.



Santa has a very nice singing voice, doesn't he?

And there is also...

Christmas Coda 40

Adam and Rob from WINTER KILL
 
 
“We could toss a coin,” Rob said. “Heads my family. Tails yours.”
“Let’s just go to your family for Christmas.” Adam glanced at the clock and set his coffee cup in the stainless steel sink.
“If we do go to my family, we’ll for sure go to yours next year. We’ll trade off.”
“Yes,” Adam said with brisk indifference. He was already on his way out the door. In that charcoal gray suit he looked as handsome and stylish as if he was headed for a GQ magazine shoot and not a day of chasing bad guys through the mean streets of Klamath Falls.
Rob put down his coffee cup, following Adam down the stairs that led to the garage.
Adam had been working out of the Bend satellite office for the past four months--which was exactly how long they had been living together.
Rob said, “It’s probably only fair to go to your family. But I can’t deny I’m looking forward to the fun of sharing our meet cute story with the aunts and uncles and cousins. The adorable tale of how a serial killer brought us together...”
Adam, still in motion, threw over his shoulder, “Sure. Up to you.”
Rob stopped midway down the stairs. Adam’s mind was clearly not on the holidays. It wasn’t on Rob at all. He hadn’t even remembered to kiss Rob goodbye. Not that it was a huge deal, but they were both conscious of the fact that they had jobs with a higher level of risk than working in, say, a hardware store.
But Adam was preoccupied with work. Not a big case or anything like that. He was just trying to fit in with his new team, his new boss, his new coworkers, his new partner. The truth was, Bend  was overjoyed to get him, thrilled Adam had opted for their satellite office rather than Portland, but Adam couldn’t see it. He was in high gear all the time. And given the fact that he was by nature an overachiever…Adam giving that extra 110% was frankly exhausting. But Rob got it. Adam had given up a lot--everything--to move to Nearby and be with Rob. Rob was determined to make as much easy for Adam as he could.
Adam jumped in his SUV, hit the automatic garage door opener, and zipped out into the wintry morning. Rob walked slowly back upstairs.
 * * * * *
 
He was digging Jack Elkins' pickup out of the snowy slush and mud when his cell phone rang.
Adam.
“Howdy.” Rob leaned the shovel against the tailgate.
“Hey.” Adam sounded funny, almost self-conscious. “I think I forgot to say goodbye this morning.”
Rob wiped his forehead, squinting at the white sun through the dark branches of the towering pines. What time was it? Two? Three?
“No worries. You can make it up to me when you say hello.” He was smiling, anticipating that moment. He definitely preferred their hellos to their goodbyes.
“Rob. About Christmas. Whatever you want is fine.”
“Same here,” Rob said. “It’s one Christmas out of all the Christmases we’re going to spend. Who cares whose family goes first?”
There was a sharp silence. Had he said the wrong thing? How could promising to compromise be the wrong thing?
Adam said something gruffly.
“What?” Rob asked.
Adam said clearly, “I just want to be with you.”
Rob’s heart lightened. “Yeah, me too.” A sudden thought occurred. “What if we don’t go anywhere? It’s our first Christmas together. What if we stay home, just the two of us?”
“No, I’m not saying that,” Adam said. “You want to see your family, of course.” He added in that carefully neutral tone that Rob was getting to know meant he cared a lot. “Unless that’s what you want?”
Rob grinned inwardly, but he was touched too. “Hm. I don’t know,” he mused. “What would we do? I mean beyond cook and eat and sleep and…you know, make snow angels.”
He could hear the smile in Adam’s voice. “Snow angels, huh?”
“Welllll, unless you have a better idea.”
“Oh, I have a couple of ideas,” Adam said softly.  
  

NEW RELEASE - A Case of Christmas

We interrupt the Advent Calendar to announce the official release of A CASE OF CHRISTMAS. This year's nutty little holiday offering.


Christmas on Catalina Island—it’s just what the doctor ordered.
Injured in the line of duty, FBI Special Agent Shane Donovan is longing for a few days of peace and quiet. Some nice meals, a couple of good books, and maybe a bottle of the best. No family, no friends, no fa la la la la…just a little time on his own to think things through.
But an offshore storm, a geriatric treasure hunter, and the guy who dumped him without a word two years earlier are about to unwrap all Shane’s carefully laid holiday plans.
I like Christmas or holiday stories. I've been doing one every year for the last...what? Six years? They're just a bit of holiday sweetness. No murder, no mayhem. Well...actually sometimes there is a bit of mayhem. But all my Christmas stories are pretty much the same thing -- someone you love pushes you into a snowbank and then jumps in after you to deliver warm hugs and a frosty nuzzle or two. That's it. That's the perfect Christmas story right there. ;-)

You can buy A CASE OF CHRISTMAS at Amazon or All Romance Ebooks. Unfortunately everywhere else it will not be out until the 24th of December--this has to do with a most unfortunate design flaw in the Smashwords preorder system (which is what I use to channel through for B&N, Kobo, Apple, etc.)

Soooooooooooo....

Enjoy!

Advent Calender - Day 15

Today I'm sharing "Happy Christmas" performed by Lifehouse. As many of you know, I love Lifehouse. Something about their music sounds like my characters to me (although it's really hard to explain what I mean by that)


. Anyway, Lifehouse doesn't have a holiday album, so our options were somewhat limited. Still...you can never go wrong with John Lennon. (At least...I've always thought John Lennon wrote this?)


Do you have a favorite holiday song?

Christmas Coda 39

Peter and Mike from DON’TLOOK BACK
 
“When were you going to tell me?” Mike asked. He was smiling, his tone wry.
They had reached the pie and coffee stage of their holiday meal. Parkway Grill was Mike’s favorite place to dine--plus there weren’t a lot of options on Christmas evening. Mike’s parents were visiting his sister in Connecticut. Peter didn’t have family--other than Mike. Earlier that day, they’d brunched with Roma and Jessica and thirty other people. It had been fun and festive--but Peter was loving this quiet, private dinner, just the two of them.
“Tell you what?” Peter smiled too, but he was puzzled. Mike’s blue gaze seemed a little somber given the mood and occasion.
“The job offer in Boston. You didn’t think we should talk it over together?”
Peter’s eyes widened. He hadn’t realized Mike even knew about the opportunity in Boston. The museum must have phoned. “There’s nothing to tell. I’m not taking it.”
“You’re…not.”
“No.”
“Why?” Mike seemed floored by this news, which was sort of, well, disconcerting.
“Why? Because of…us.”
Mike continued to look shocked. Not happy, not pleased. Shocked. “You’re not taking this job because of me?”
He was starting to worry Peter. Peter said, “Us.”
“Because you’re in a relationship with me.”
Peter kind of wished they weren’t having this discussion in public. And he kind of wished Mike wasn’t stating these facts in such a brusque, conversational tone, because they were getting a few glances from other diners. Frankly, he hadn’t really expected to have a discussion on the subject.
 “More because it’s not easy to maintain a long distance relationship with anyone.”
Mike shook his head. He said flatly, “You can’t make your decision based on that.”
“What should I base it on?”
“This is a job you wanted. Right?”
Peter stared, stricken. This was not the reaction he would have expected. He thought--believed--things were going well with Mike. That Mike was happy. But maybe, after four months, Mike was tired of supporting Peter, of carrying the financial load, of sharing his space. In the beginning he’d said it was no problem, no hardship and that Peter should take his time finding the right position. And that’s what Peter had done, partly because he didn’t have a choice. The economy might be recovering, but museum curators were still not in high demand.
“If I--if I lived in Boston, this would be the job I wanted.”
Mike nodded like now Peter was on the right track.
Peter said, “I didn’t realize--” He had to stop because the waitress returned to refill their coffee cups. And because he didn’t trust his voice.
There was the usual could-she-bring-them-anything-else? Mike requested the check. The waitress departed.
Peter got control and said quietly, “I didn’t realize you didn’t want--” He broke off because he wasn’t sure how to finish it. He was pretty sure, would have sworn, in fact, that Mike did want what they had. What they had and what they were building. But maybe only Peter thought they were building something. It wasn’t like they had discussed the future.
Their eyes met and Mike’s frown deepened. He opened his mouth, but the waitress was back with the check.
Mike reached for his wallet--which of course he had tired of being the financial default by now and Peter should have realized this--and Peter said, “Excuse me. I’m going to get some fresh air.”
Good luck with that. The cold night air was scented of car exhaust and the restaurant kitchen. It did not smell fresh. It did not smell like Christmas. It smelled like any winter night in any unfamiliar city. Peter took a turn around the parking lot. Second time around Mike met him, footsteps crunching dead leaves on the pavement.
“You feeling all right?” Mike asked, offering Peter a peppermint.
Peter declined the peppermint. “I feel blindsided.”
“I can see that.” Mike peeled the paper off his peppermint. “What’s kind of funny is I was trying not to get worked up about the fact you’d decided to take that job without talking to me. And then it turns out you’re not taking the job. Also without talking to me.”
Peter had to struggle not to say something childish like, I didn’t realize you were so desperate to get rid of me. He knew Mike didn’t want to get rid of him. At least, he thought he did. He was pretty hurt though. Hurt that Mike could seemingly accept-- calmly accept--that Peter might be leaving for Boston. That he didn’t want to stop him, didn’t want to put up a fight for what they had together. In the end he said nothing.
Mike watching his struggle, said awkwardly, “If I seem ungrateful or like I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do, that’s not my intent. You did this once. Gave up your life for that asshole. You’re not doing it again. Not for me. I don’t want that.”
“I didn’t realize I was giving up my life,” Peter said bitterly. “I thought it was just a job.”
“It’s not just a job. It’s your career.”
Right. And what could be more important than that? Peter drew a deep, shaky breath and said, “I’m cold. We should get back.”
Not we should go homebecause plainly Mike’s condo was not his home.
 
* * * * *
 
The sight of the evergreen wreath on the front door was painful.
“Do you want a drink?” Mike unlocked the door and felt around for the light switch.
“No. Thanks.”
The front room smelled like apples and cinnamon. Comforting and homely, but the holiday fragrance made his stomach churn. He felt stupid for decorating Mike’s place. Mike hadn’t asked for any of that nonsense. The Christmas tree, the fake snow on windows…that was all his idea and it had been a bad one. He was embarrassed at having presumed too much. He felt unwelcome. The sight of the presents they had opened that morning--nothing extravagant or very expensive, but everything chosen with care and affection (on both sides, he had imagined)--made him want to cry.
However, crying on Christmas was not permissible once you were out of the single digits.
It was only eight thirtyso he couldn’t exactly announce he wanted to go to bed. Anyway, it was going to be too weird trying to lie on that mattress next to Mike with all this between them. All this being…apparently not that much. He could invite himself over to Jessica’s and Roma’s place, but that wasn’t a very caring thing to do to friends who had already spent the long day hosting a holiday brunch.
“You sure you don’t want anything?” Mike asked from the kitchen.
“I’m going for a walk,” Peter called.
He was two houses down staring unseeingly at a yard full of mechanical reindeer, raising and lowering their light-bulb lined heads to feast on a dead lawn, when Mike appeared beside him.
“Even I can tell something is wrong,” Mike said. “Tell me what I did.” And the heartless bastard put his arm around Peter’s shoulders.
Peter shook his head. Not No, I won’t tell you. More I can’t tell you--it’s too ridiculous.
“Come on.” Mike lowered his head and kissed Peter’s cheek. His breath was warm in the cold night. “Talk to me, Peter.”
How the hell did women manage to cry and talk at the same time? Because it was pretty much physically impossible, with your throat closed up and your sinuses flooding and your breath jerking in and out, to manage anything like a sentence. Let alone an intelligent sentence.
What he wanted to say was so tangled up and complicated. When he’d finally got his memory back, all of his memory, it had been difficult to accept how alone he was, how lonely. He had friends, wonderful friends who made up for the fact that he did not have family. But even that was not the same as having that one special person: the lover who was both friend and partner. Not everyone needed or wanted that, but Peter did. He had hungered for it his entire life. He had wanted it so badly that for years he had put up with the palest imitation. He didn’t even know why.
And then Mike had come along. And Peter had really thought the loneliness was over. Really thought that Mike was the guy he would spend the rest of his life with. He was convinced Mike saw it the same way. But now it turned out that once again he had got it wrong. At least in Mike’s case there was real affection and caring, but the end result was the same. He was on his own.
Mike’s arm tightened around Peter’s shoulders. “Have you already turned the job down? Is that it?”
“Not yet.”
“Then--”
Peter pulled away. “Until an hour ago, this was the best Christmas of my entire life. Maybe the best day of my entire life. I really did think--”
Into that raw and unsteady pause, Mike said very quietly, “I’m not sure why me supporting your decision to take a job you really want somehow spoils that for you.”
“I don’t want that fucking job, Mike!” Peter glared at him. “Or I didn’t. If we’re not going to be together anyway, then I don’t know. Maybe that would be the best option.”
Mike’s head snapped back like Peter had punched him. “We’re not going to…”
“You're talking about job versus career, and I understand and appreciate the difference. And I understand that difference should be as important to me as it apparently is to you, but you  know what I want more than anything? To be wanted. To be loved. For it to matter to someone if I stay or if I go--”
“You are wanted,” Mike protested. “You are loved and of course it matters if you stay or go.”
“That’s not how it feels.”
This time there was no pushing Mike away. He wrapped his arms around Peter--not that Peter was fighting him--and whispered, “I don’t want you to go. How could you think that? I’m trying to do the right thing, that’s all. I don’t want to be like him. All he did was take from you. I want to give to you. I want to give you whatever you need.”
Peter pressed his face into Mike’s. “You already do. You already have. Just waking up together this morning--there will be other jobs. I’ll get another job. I promise. But I don’t want a job that’s going to put the entire country between us. It’s not worth it to me.”
“Then it’s not worth it to me either. You think I’m worried about who pays the electric bill? I don’t care if you have a job so long as you don’t care. All I’m trying to do is show you that you’re free to make whatever decision you want.”
“I don’t want to be that free.”
“I was never talking about ending things! We could make it work long distance.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Neither do I,” Mike admitted. He shook his head. “Did you really think, even for a minute, that I didn’t want you to stay? That the idea of you leaving didn’t hurt like hell?”
“You sure didn’t show it.”
“Didn’t I?” Mike offered the old wolfish smile. “Let’s go home. I want to show you just how much you’re wanted…”
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Advent Calendar Day 13

Good morning! Today's little giftie is another coloring sheet by the wonderful Johanna Ollila. This one is from Murder in Pastel, and it's an Advent Calendar exclusive. We hope you enjoy it!
You can download the coloring sheet right here.

Advent Calendar Day 12

When Strange Fortune was published in 2009 we (Blind Eye Books and I) did a number of little gifties and goodies for those who preordered. One--if not the--very nicest of giveaways was artwork by the unnervingly gifted Dawn Kimberling.

Dawn did a number of brilliant little sketches of Hidush and some of the characters--whatever caught her fancy...which were combined in a PDF file for download.

Well, it's been six years and I feel like those beautiful little sketches should be seen and appreciated again. And since I happened to glance through Strange Fortune the other night when I was writing the coda for it (it's actually quite a neat little story!) I think now is a great time to share them again.

So today's giveaway is the downloadable PDF of Dawn Kimberling's promo art for Strange Fortune. (Psst! It's at the bottom of the book page.)

And if you haven't read Strange Fortune, now's your chance. It's available in print (how I still love that map!) ebook and audio.

Christmas Coda 38

Aleister Grimshaw and Valentine Strange from STRANGE FORTUNE



 

In the afternoon they had come upon a series of caves in a red rock canyon. Enormous, unsettling black and red drawings marched down the length of the cave. The creatures depicted there were nothing Strange recognized, not man nor beast. They made the back of his neck crawl.
Aleister was fascinated by the ancient scrawls--delighted, in fact--and had made extensive notes and sketches in his journal.
By the time Strange dragged him away the sun had begun to slip from the sky. The sky was clear for the first time in days, though everything was still wet from the biting winter rains.

He would have liked to put greater distance between them and those damned caves, but these lands were unfamiliar and he preferred to face the night with his back against the wall and a goodly fire. Plus Aleister had developed a worrying cough. Which was to say, it worried Strange. If one of them fell really ill or was badly injured, there was no help to be had out here on the wrong side of the White Mountains.

No, not true. If Strange fell ill, Aleister would probably be able to do something for him. He was dosing himself with a horrendously unappetizing juice he’d made from poisonous-tasting berries, continuing to blather away about the caves, cheeks flushed and eyes shining fever-bright. His confidence in the future remained as undiminished as it was bewildering.

“Of course they might offer new information on the former extension of the ancestral abodes of certain clans. I suspect these cliff-dwellers were not a distinct people--”

“Sit closer to the fire,” Strange told him. “That wind is like a knife.”

“I’m boiling as it is.” Aleister smiled widely, eyes shadowy, his teeth very white in the firelight. “Do you know what this night is, Val?”

“I know you’ll tell me, Master Sticks and Stones.”

If Aleister fell ill, really ill, Strange would be able to do little for him. And the thought of losing Aleister was frankly unbearable. He had been fond of him for some time, of course. He had expected that his feelings would temper, ease into a more casual affection, but if anything they had grown more fierce, more intense. It was painful to care this much, for theirs was often a hand-to-mouth existence, and death could reach out to grab one or the other at any moment. If something--any harm came to Aleister--

In the frosty distance something howled. It did not sound like any animal Strange knew.
He glanced at Aleister who was still smiling. Perhaps he had not heard that eerie howl. “It’s the winter solstice.”
The longest night of the year. What the fuck could be better than that?
“Well, we’ve got the bonfire for it,” Strange said.
“We’ve got more than that. I’ve been saving up for your present.”
“My--” But he was speaking to empty air. Aleister hopped up, went to his pack, rifled around and brought back a handful of…dust. He picked up one of the metal plates that Strange had scrubbed clean in the sand, and let the crumbs trickle through his fingers while he spoke a soft incantation.
Strange was silent, watching. Was this fever or was Aleister actually practicing magick? After a second or two, he realized that the dust was, in fact, crumbs. Hardtack crumbs saved carefully for days on end.
The crumbs seemed to jump around on the plate and then suddenly four small cakes materialized, frosted in pink with tiny silver speckled candies. The kind of thing that had been rare even before the revolution. The kind of sweet Strange had loved as a boy. And Aleister the only person in the world who knew that.
Aleister laughed at Strange’s expression. “They’re for you, Val. All four of them.” He was beaming his pleasure at this foolish, extravagant gift.
Strange’s throat closed so tightly no speck of dust, let alone tea cake could have passed his gullet. He said, “You’re a bloody madman, Grimshaw.”
“So they tell me.”
Aleister held the plate out to him and Strange said, “Two for each.”
“Oh!” Aleister hesitated.

“Go on then. Share and share alike.”
Looking torn between guilt and delight, Aleister chose one of the delectable cakes. He handed the plate to Strange who took a cake and bit it what seemed to be a cloud made of spun sugar. The sweetness was almost shocking after months of living on wild game and whatever else they could forage.
Aleister licked frosting off his lips.

They ate their cakes and passed Strange’s flask back and forth. Now and again their companionable silence was broken by one of those long, mournful howls that seemed to issue from behind the giant, silver moon.

“You’re cold, whether you know it or not. Come here,” Strange said holding up his cape, and Aleister gave him an indulgent look and scooted over into the circle of his arm. He leaned against Strange’s shoulder. His lean, hard body was a warm weight down the length of Strange’s.

“Spring is coming,” he informed Strange, wiping the last pink stickiness from his fingers.

And only the entire winter still to get through. But Strange did not say that. He said, “Yes. Happy Solstice.”

“Happy Solstice, Val.”

“Those were the best cakes I ever ate in my life,” Strange said.

Aleister smiled and tilted his head to rest against Strange’s.