A Few Random Things

First of all, here are the blog tour updates--forgive me if I've missed any:

Available at Amazon

Available at DSP

Available at ARe


I Fight Authority--Love Bytes

Substitute Teaching--Love Bytes

Mike--MMGoodBook Reviews

Open Sky Book Reviews--The Good Boy

Alpha Books--Why We Like Bad Boys

Long and Short of It Reviews-- A Cat and a Fish
 Gay Book Reviews-- I Loved That Cat (Up Saturday, July 30th.)

Spotlight at Shyla Colt's

Embracing My Crazy -- Interview

Bayou Book Junkie (July 30)

Love Bytes Release Day Review 

*whew* Now that THAT'S done, thank you to EVERYBODY, both past and future, for hosting me!

Now, onto the random!

*  Squish spent the night at Berry Jello's house, and Jello braided her hair. I mean, twin horsetail braids, that probably took her forEVER. Squish loved it, but guys--it takes SO LONG. *shakes head*  I'm going to be spending a VERY long time braiding hair this year.

*  While Squish was gone, ZB and I went to the pool to swim and then out with my friend Trina for a second viewing of Tarzan, for Alskar reasons.  Two things about this:

A. Trina is the BEST GROWNUP EVER to take to movies.  She's not afraid to laugh or to jump or be startled or afraid--I LOVE that in a movie friend. The people who roll their eyes because they're too cool for the movie make me a little sad--but Trina made me excited to see the movie TWICE. 

B.  At one point in the movie, she turned to me and said, "Amy, this had better end well."  I promised her it would, but I was remembering Vulnerable, Immortal, and The Bells of Times Square the whole time--and yanno? I felt a little bad.

*  I was sitting at my computer, all excited about working this morning when I got swamped over with a wave of exhaustion. Just... SMACKED, like a freight train. It was SO WIERD. But the nap I took afterward--that was pretty awesome. Just saying. Maybe I've been a little keyed up about this whole release thing, because damn, that was a good nap.

*  Mate and I went to see the fourth Bourne movie, and I loved it. LOVED it. But the funny thing is (and nobody smack me for this) we were both talking about the Jeremy Renner Bourne movie and you know something?  We both loved it best.  We decided that the  Jeremy Renner character was designed to be a little less deadly and a little more human, and the Rachel Wiezs character was his perfect foil, because they both DID really horrible things at the behest of their government, but they were both pawns.  The minute they started thinking outside the box was the minute they became better human beings. 

Anyway-- the fourth one was great and I thoroughly enjoyed the series--but the Jeremy Renner one held sort of a sweet place in my heart. Saying.

*  And that's about it--so far, most of my fans have enjoyed Fish--and I'm so very grateful.  For the folks who feel like I'm being a little hard on the police? Well, I have the feeling Jackson and Ellery are going to have to build some bridges in the next one.  (My friend Karen says I have to--at this point, if I get stopped for a speeding ticket in my hometown, I'm TOAST.) 

Oh--you heard the words "next one"?

Didn't I mention that?

That there's going to be a series?

Yeah. Sort of like potato chips and Bourne, I can't stop with just one.  

Happy Release Day and Blog Tour for Fish Out of Water

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. 



Fish Out of Water is Available from 

Amazon

Dreamspinner Press

All Romance e-book



Blog Tour for Fish Out of Water--

*Note-- This is not the definitive list--I will continue to add to this and repost it as the tour goes on. These are just the people who have reported to me with links so far.  Not all of these go live at the same time.  *sigh* Remember that post about the assistant? Yeah. That.

I Fight Authority--Love Bytes

Substitute Teaching--Love Bytes

Mike--MMGoodBook Reviews

Open Sky Book Reviews--The Good Boy

Alpha Books--Why We Like Bad Boys

Long and Short of It Reviews-- A Cat and a Fish

Gay Book Reviews-- I Loved That Cat (Up Saturday, July 30th.)

Spotlight at Shyla Colt's

Embracing My Crazy -- Interview

Bayou Book Junkie (July 30)

Love Bytes Release Day Review 



Pending Stops Waiting for Links


Prism Book Alliance-- Interview  (August 1st)

Joyfully Jay--Some More About Jade  (August 4th)

 Love Bytes Blog Tour Extra--Some More About Jade and Mike (August 1)

Grave Tells

And now a few words about Fish...

I've said this on a couple of the blog sites for the tour, but I'll tell it again here for good measure:

I don't like authority.

A lot of this stems back to my childhood when my father got pulled over a lot.  It was the early seventies, and he was a tall scary looking guy with curly hair and a beard. (Big T is his spitting image actually, but Big T's hair is a lot more red.)  

My dad drove a primer green Volkswagen Bus-- customized in a lot of ways, including green and white American flags which he used as curtains.  (They were a symbol of peace, and you know, I sort of wish we had some of those now!) It was a great vehicle for taking kids camping when there were no seat belt or safety seat laws and you didn't care about seeing the pavement rush under your foot whenever you used the clutch, and it was a cop magnet. CHP, local police--hell, we even got cased once by the FBI. 

Two things saved my dad from being incarcerated for driving as a hippie  that last time. One of them was me. The other was the deaf Dalmatian dog protecting me. The third thing might have been that when they asked him where my mother was, he had to say the looney bin, so yes, that was me again, they just didn't want to bother with the kid in the back.

That sort of thing leaves a mark.

I have rarely trusted policemen.  

There have been some memorable exceptions. 

 Once I got out of the theatre after breaking down the set to find my fuse had blown and I had no headlights, the local Sheriff who's daughter had been in my graduating class drove in front of me with a spotlight, so I could get home at two a.m. and my dad could fix it in the morning.

Yes, he knew who my dad was. Yes, he knew he worked on cars. Yes, the town was that small.

My husband's assistant coach for four years of coaching soccer was a policeman, and a genuinely nice (if scary competitive) guy.

Once I was standing in my classroom and a CHP officer walked in, fully dressed in uniform, looking stern. I looked at him suspiciously, and said, "Who are you here for?" totally prepared to advocate for the poor kid who would be locked in this asshole's grasp.

"You, Ms. Lane--Don't you remember me? I graduated four years ago!"

"Oh my God-- SHANE! It's GREAT to see you, buddy! Look at you--I'm so damned proud!"  

Yeah-- THAT guy, I trusted.

But seriously-- it's a short list. Those who have been following me for a while know it, too. Last year, when meth-cooking squatters moved in next door, pretty much ALL OF YOU said, "Darling, I know this will burn like acid, but you have to call the police."

It didn't actually burn like acid, but watching them all gather around the house next door while they threatened to shoot the guy on the roof did not inspire me with confidence either.

When reports started to emerge across the nation that people of color were being victimized by the police, I was not surprised. I had seen the rampant disrespect in person, to friends and  students and I'd been appalled and helpless to stop it.  I was relieved that the issue was gaining national attention, because hopefully that would mean racial injustice at the hands of the authorities could be stopped. 

Hasn't happened yet. Hadn't happened when I wrote Fish. Needs to happen. Needs to happen in the worst way. Our country needs to fucking grow.

But I still have hope--I really do.

There ARE people like Jackson out there. That kid who came back into my classroom, wearing his uniform, proud as hell--he wasn't going to go out and beat up the people he grew up with.  

We need more people like that in the uniform.

So Fish is a reflection of how things are, and how bad they can be--but I also wanted it to be a hope that they can get better.  

I hope people see that fervent wish for better in the pages.  We need all of it we can get.

Exclusive Excerpt--

Fish Out of Water


He found Dave and Alex out by the parking garage behind the ambulance entrance, sharing a cigarette break.

That was pretty much where he expected to find them this time of day, because they would have screwed each other silly in Alex’s car for the first part of their lunch, and this was their comedown. You learned a lot about the nurses who took care of you on a daily basis.

Dave had given him his twelve-o’clock painkillers and had talked about taking his break with his boyfriend. Alex had changed his catheter bag at two, and he’d always looked freshly laid. It hadn’t been that hard to put together.

 “Hey, handsome—you taking care of our property?” Alex asked as Jackson trotted out of the parking garage to greet them. Alex—tiny, perky, and blond as a cheerleader—smoked like he was about to hide the cigarette from his mother.

“It’s not yours anymore,” Jackson said, smiling. “The hospital gave me a full lease on the equipment when I left. You remember the paperwork?”

 “Oh no, honey.” Dave was taller, wider, darker in hair and skin, and built like a tank; he wielded his cigarette like a magic wand and camped like a Boy Scout. “We don’t do paperwork.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Who needs paperwork when you bitches put out in person, right?”

“You know it, baby,” Alex purred. He drew hard on the cig and then crushed it out in the sand pit. After he’d exhaled smoke, he stepped forward and shook Jackson’s hand. Some of the cheerleader fell away and he gave a genuine smile. “How you doing, hon?” he asked seriously. “The whole hospital is talking about your friend this morning—apparently you stepped on Dr. Snidenhower’s toes.”

The boys knew Kaden, Rhonda, and Jade—they’d been his only visitors over those months of recovery. Jackson had seen Alex and Dave working as he’d been pulling the strings that got K out of the hospital and into the jail—and he’d been grateful.

“Yeah, well, that guy was a jerk when I was here,” Jackson muttered. Hence the nickname Snidenhower. Jackson had it on good authority that Alex and Dave were the only reason he wasn’t walking around with a colostomy bag under his belt. Scheideman was a little overzealous with requesting surgery, and apparently both of Jackson’s boys—as he’d called them by the end—had lobbied fiercely to let Jackson’s body try to heal first.  It was a thing for which Jackson would forever be grateful.

“The guy’s a jerk anyway.” Dave flicked his ash into the sand pit, dark fingers curving gracefully. “But that’s not what you’re here to talk about, is it.”

 Jackson shook his head. “You know what I’m here to talk about?”

Dave looked over his shoulder to see if anyone else was coming out to the back bay to nurture their filthy habit. Nobody so far, so he gestured Jackson in with a jerk of his chin. “Your boy? The friend who caught the po-po bus? So, Scheideman got pulled off that poor dead kid in the cop’s uni—he was trying to resuscitate him because he didn’t have the balls to call TOD.”

 Nobody wanted to call TOD on a cop. Nobody.

“So….”

Dave tsked his impatience but kept going. “So Doc Memphis called TOD, but Scheideman got sicced on Kaden, the hot guy with the cute kids.”

“There was a wife too,” Jackson supplied dryly, mostly to see Dave roll his eyes.

“Right. Anyway, so a guy—not in uniform, but smelled like bacon if you know what I mean—he grabs Scheideman’s arm on the way down the hall, and he’s talking like they’re planning a terrorist attack. Anyway, I got into the room about two steps after them. You were at reception raising six sorts of hell—baby, I just stayed out of your way. Anyway, Scheideman didn’t even look at the chart when he called for the Haldol. He didn’t know your friend had been throwing up—”

“Like a champion,” Alex confirmed. “It’s not that the meds weren’t appreciated, just that, you know, makes it that much harder to figure out if he’d been roofed.”

 “Did they run a tox screen?” He’d asked for one—had asked every doctor within shouting distance for one—but that didn’t always mean what he hoped for.

“Honey,” Dave cooed, “would we do you that way?”

 Jackson blinked. “Yeah?”

 “Yeah, we ran you one—before the Haldol—and no, the doctor didn’t ask for it. We had the blood work in before ol’ Shiny Man opened his mouth.”

 Dave dropped his camp for a second. “You were in our unit for months, Jackson. And we saw the marshals there for protective custody until the case got out of court. Honey, if you were there battling for Kaden, screaming for a tox screen, you knew what you were doing.”

Jackson let loose a sigh of relief and managed a smile. “You know, some people don’t believe in guardian angels anymore, but you two give me faith.”

Dave exhaled the last puff and ground his cig in the sand. “Yeah, you say that, bitch, but you never put out.” He winked and nodded to Alex. “Baby, our break’s up. I’ll cover for you if you go get the results from the car.”

Jackson gasped a little, but Dave looked at him meaningfully.

“Go,” he said, his voice dropping. “We made copies. We did the same for you, although I know you don’t remember. The minute the popo came asking for your charts, Alex and I felt a tingle in our short hairs.”

“Wait!” Jackson called, hoping for a break—or a familiar name, at least. “Do you know the name of the cop who was putting weight on Scheideman?”

Dave shrugged, but Alex nodded. “Yeah—name was Owens. Short guy, dark hair, sort of greasy. Wore a uniform. Totally fucking average—I couldn’t have picked him out of a lineup if he was sucking Scheideman’s dick.”

Don Quixote

I seem to remember reading all or part of Don Quixote when I was a freshmen in high school--but I don't remember much more than the basics, and the very catchy theme song from Man From La Mancha.  If a scene like this happened in the book, I have long forgotten the particulars, and if one didn't, well, I think it should have. In any event, this is, in effect, fanfic. The canon is my own, but the metaphorical figures belong to Miguel de Cervantes.

*  *  *

It was not well known, but Sancho Panza was a prince in his own kingdom.  When he took the pot off his head and dismounted from his own donkey, he cut a proud figure, riding a white horse and wearing a velvet waistcoat with a ruffle around his neck.

"You could have been anyone," Don Quixote bemoaned.  They sat in a tiny abandoned shack, before Don Quixote rode into yet another battle. "Look at you, Sancho, masquerading as a peasant. You cut a fine figure of a man--you could change the world."

Sancho waved his hand languorously. "I am a peasant, Don Quixote-- your one delusion is that I was worthy enough to be your squire."

Don Quixote snorted. Sancho Panza was pure nobility, anybody could see it.

"I don't know why you bother with me."  He tok a swig of wine and looked woefully at the jar.  "I am a foolish old man, and the windmill trade is not what it used to be."

"Don't be stupid," Sancho said, rolling his eyes and taking the jar. It was never good when the Don had too much wine. "You keep the countryside safe from the monsters, my good Don. They might overrun the world if not for your stalwart efforts."

"But what has it earned me? The country people despise me. Millers everywhere curse my name--we can't get decent bread, Sancho, because nobody sees the difference between the windmills that grind the flour and the monsters I slay beyond them. I am a laughing stock, and worse yet, I have betrayed the knights I so longed to be like."

"Betrayed how, my lord?"

"I was not perfect. I injured a windmill.  I toppled a stone--how could I, Sancho! I wanted so badly for the giant beyond to be the object of my lance!"

"Well that is the nature of tilting at windmills, even if they are but giants, my lord. You tilt at so many, so very successfully I might add. Look at the shadows of your slain giants, lying about the hills. Look at how safe the people are, when the night encroaches, because they have the stories of your exploits to give them warmth and light!"

"But the windmill, Sancho! The one windmill!"

"Can be repaired!" Sancho laughed kindly. "Look at it--you broke no walls. No one was injured beyond repair. A rock fell on some man's toe--it happens."

"He did not deserve to be hurt," Don Quixote said sincerely. "That was my doing."

"Well, yes. But would you not slay anymore giants in the fear of the damage to one windmill?"

"How do I even know they are giants?" Don Quixote wailed. "To hear the wails of the townspeople, you would think I was more of an ass than my donkey, going about my sacred work!"

"How do I know they are giants?"  Sancho's voice rose indignantly. "How do I know they were giants?  Because they frightened the children, and the women and men! Because families took comfort when you slayed them. Because families rose with pitchforks and knives, urged by your valor to never be cowed by giants again! Why do you think I follow you, my darling don?  What is it you think I see that is not there?  I see someone with a heart as big as the hills and the sunset, put on his armor and mount his steed and go charging into the heart of many a worthy battle!  It is sunset, my lord--look at the shadows of the fallen and know that you are their master!"

"You have your own city, Sancho," Quixote said quietly. "You do not need to stay here, nursing an old man through his wine."

"And old soldier through his wine," Sancho corrected, pouring them both a half cup.  "And I slay my own giants, never you mind. My giants are well slayed, my town is in order. I am where I belong to be before a battle--at my lord's side."

"A foolish old man with too much wine," Quixote said woefully, tilting his tin cup and washing down the dregs.

"A brave and valiant man, who shall wake with the sun and slay his next dragon."

"What if I harm a windmill, Sancho?"

"What if you never tilt again?"

Quixote holds his hands to his chest. "Oh! My heart! Tis brittle, old, and gray!"

"See, my lord? You must venture forth in the morning. All shall be well if you just lift your lance to your saddle, and tilt away."

"I shall do so,  Sancho, if you promise to mind your own kingdom tomorrow, after we have stayed the giant."

"That is a bargain well struck."

Sancho shook Don Quixote's hand and then draped a knitted blanket over his shoulders and gave his shoulder a warm squeeze. The old man nodded off into a doze, but Sancho was not fooled. In the morning, the day would dawn, bright and crisp and his lord Don Quixote would go slay another giant.

There was none better at it, in spite of his protests.

But Sancho could do without the pep talk the night before. He really DID have a kingdom to run, and it was the pep talk that proved most exhausting.

Chum for the Bucket

*  Fish Out of Water is coming out on Friday. Because it's been too peaceful around here, right?

Currently available for Presale at Amazon, DSP, and ARe.

First reviews are coming out, and although it's something of a departure for me--full on mystery/suspense isn't always an easy transition from contemporary romance--so far, folks are supportive. (Or at least giving me the benny of the doubt ;-)

*  On another note, I need to write a letter to my cat:

Dear cat--if you would stop sitting in the stickers, they would stop sticking to your ass. This would be a relief to all involved.

Sincerely,

Me

*  I was in full on blog mode when Squish came out, all pumped up from the book she's been reading in bed when she should have been sleeping.  Anyway. The School of Good and Evil-- she loves it, so parents of this age group, now you have more book crack for your children.

*  And speaking of questionable parenting choices, I actually said this today:

"Okay, whose commentary are you listening to on OverWatch?"

"I don't know," Zoomboy said. "Whoever's trying to kill us."

"Look, guys, whoever is saying "fuck" more than mom needs to go."

"Okay, fine."

And he signed off.  Good kids. Bad mom.  Saying.

*  It was hotter than Satan's taint on a barbecue after he ate Thai hot curry and washed it down with a cayenne chaser.

I went out into curried hell and walked the dogs, stopped places, sent packages, shopped for food, and then came home and passed out. Then I woke up, did some pseudo work, then I sat down to knit and passed out again.

Mate played softball in the nastiest part of the day and came home and fell asleep in front of the DNC coverage.

The heat could suck the soul outta God, I'm not kidding.

*  The dogs come in from a walk in this heat like they're all bad. "Didja see that? I drooled-- tongue all floppy outta my mouth. Yeah, I know it makes me look goofy, but that's some grade A dog sweat you people are looking at, and it proves I AM  real dog and don't you forget it!" *sigh* Assholes.

*  And as if to prove their assholedom, they just freaked out behind my computer desk and pulled all my shit down. No, I don't really know what shit. But I know it's important and it's plugged in and that it's somehow vital to the function of my interwebs. I had Squish come and hand it up through the back of the desk, and I'll have Mate check it tomorrow, but in the meantime, I repeat. Assholes.

And that is probably my cue to bail tonight-- I've got 1K more before I sleep! (In the blessed blessed air conditioned cool. Ahhhhh....)

Mate and the Cat

Steve the Cat has run inside for her nighttime feeding just as Mate is leaving the refrigerator with a bag of grapes.

Steve: You see that? That's my food bowl. It's empty.

Mate: You see that? Those are grapes. I can eat those because I have opposable thumbs.

Steve: Who gives a shit about opposable thumbs?

Mate: You do, you dumb motherfucker. You can't eat without them.

Steve: I can too. I can catch birds. Mice. Whatever. You just love me too much to let me suffer. *cough cough* Bird bones. In the throat. It would be bad.

Mate: I'm not buying it.

Steve: Just shut up and go get my food.

Me: Heh heh heh-- It's so sexy when you taunt the cat.

Mate: It is not.

Steve: He's a neanderthal. Leave him. I shall give you all the love you need.

Me: It's sexier when you feed the cat.

Mate: Whatever. I'll feed her.

Steve: See? I own you.

Mate: This isn't over cat. And I bet you wish you could eat grapes.

Seriously-- Mate's just giddy because on Friday he was pulling a U-turn and he thought he left his transmission behind him on the street.  Turned out, it was just the axel. So he'll coddle the cat and play with the dogs, and even be kind to me with my damned obsession with The Killing because it wasn't the damned transmission.

But I'm saying.

Fucking Volvo.

And For Zero Pay, You could...

Oh yeah, sure-- we all talk about needing an assistant, but I'm starting to think I should never, ever, ever get one.

I'd abuse the poor thing horribly.

Seriously-- just thinking about what I'd make an assistant do is embarrassing.  I mean, I probably couldn't find someone who could do all that in a day anyway.  My assistant would need an assistant.

But gees, it would be nice to have someone who would do all the stuff I couldn't get to...

I mean, ALL the stuff.

So much stuff....


*  *  *

Wanted: Writer's Assistant

Will work for resume--

Must be prepared to do the following:

*  Organize my blog tours

* Remember I need blog tours

*  Kick my ass until I write the damned blogs for the blog tours

*  Proofread my blogs

*  Kick my ass until I fix the blogs

*  Remind me of edits

*  Tell me, "No, I will not do your fourth, fifth, and sixth edits, you wrote that shit you need to read it your damned self!"

*  Remind me to go shopping

*  Make sure I don't get Oreos, because they're the antichrist

*  Kick my ass out the door for aqua

*  Make me stop eating when I'm too tired to remember I've already had half a pizza

*  Rearrange my cupboards

*  Get rid of the bugs

*  Make my kids do the laundry.  No, I don't expect my assistant to do laundry-- but kicking the kids into action, that could be a job.

*   Kick my seat when I start to web surf

*  Answer questions like, "If it's not 3Com park anymore, what the hell do we call it?"

*  Kick my seat when I start to web surf.  Again.

*  Look up the line from that one movie with the actor I can't remember so I can reference it in my book.

*  Dammit, Amy, get off of fuckin' goodreads!

*  Scratch my back until  you get that spot right... there..

*  Rub the perma knot in my back.

*  Let the dog in.

*  Let the cat out.

*  Let the cat in.

*  Put the dog out.

*  Yes, I'm sorry, if you see butt cookies, those need to be picked up.

*  Make a count of how many outfits I need for any given function.

*  Tell me I look pretty when I try them on.

*  Go find my deodorant so I don't have to put on my husbands and smell like mensweat all day. (Which is not nearly as attractive on me as it is on men.)

*  Make appointments for my car.

*  Make appointments for my health, because I keep forgetting.

* Darling, if you could go to Weight Watchers and weigh in for me?  I don't care if you'll have my size, they'll make you spokesperson or something.

*  Kick my chair when I'm dozing off at my desk.

*  Smack me when my blog posts get too long.

And the cooking and the cleaning and the laundry and the windows and...

Yeah.

Better I just keep muddling on by myself.

An assistant would see this list and run away screaming, and then I'd need an assistant to remind me to hire an assistant.

And I just don't have the time.

A few things to fondle...

Geoffie is not impressed by the socks.

Okay-- so I delved into my sock archives right before I went to RWA and came back with--oh, treasure of treasures!-- an almost completed pair of socks!

I finished them, and they're going to my friend right before she has surgery, and yay and hooray for finished projects.

BTW, I'm now totally enamored of all the other projects in my sock archives.  KNIT SOCKS NOW! (Okay, as a revolutionary slogan it sucks, but for knitters, it's sort of an amazing affirmation of hope. You don't knit socks in July if you think the apocalypse is coming in November, trust me. You just don't.)

Anyway-- the yarn is bamboo/wool, and it's time in the sock archive has rendered it soft and grope worthy and... mmmm...

Because, you know, socks and yarn are some of the few things you can fondle without being accused of objectification. I mean, yarn and socks ARE OBJECTS--if we lust after them, isn't objectification okay?

So, dream away and objectify yarn, and if you have an archived project, by all means go back and see if it needs to be re-loved.

And also go see Ghostbusters, because all of the women in it are fantastic, and watching Kristin Wiig sweetheart crush over Chris Hemsworth is really sort of adorable.

So is Chris Hemsworth's willingness to be totally objectified and dumb as a post.

*happy sigh*

I'm off to bed to dream about knitting socks for Christ Hemsworth. I could grope the socks then--not the Hemsworth, of course--but groping the socks and then putting them on the Hemsworth would be close.

And speaking of improper groping, here we have the damned cat, licking the salt out of Mate's hair after his late night soccer game last night.

FTR? Mate was in no way offended at being used for salt and comfort purposes--as long as the cat doesn't barf a giant Mate-hairball down anyone's shoes, it's all good.

A Brief Theory on Criticism and Entertainment

Yes--I've written about subtext, about word choice, about how literature and media reflect society as a whole and how we should pay attention to nuances and make sure we're building the imaginary world of our dreams.

But sometimes, when the subtext is done seamlessly, it's just nice to watch shit-go-boom, and the man/men of your dreams kick a little ass, crack a little wise, and eventually save the day.

That being said, I saw Star Trek: Into the Beyond tonight, and I loved it. I'm sure people will bitch and whine about parts of it--but I don't actually care. I totally identified with Kirk, I love that they've matured the character but he's still a smartass, and I love that McCoy and Spock got some screen time. There's lots of nods to the old school, lots of advances into the new world building, and poignant tributes to people lost.

Sometimes, it's okay not to criticize, analyze, and theorize.

Sometimes it's okay to sit back, watch shit go boom, and cheer for the good guy.

I had fun. Achievement unlocked.

Booya!!!!

Things that happen when you've been away...

*  The little kids have to kiss you six times every time the walk by

*  The grown son has to talk for at least a half an hour, every day

*  The dogs get WAY too excited when you come home from things like a trip to the gym

*  The cat WILL BE PETTED right THE FUCK NOW

*  The laundry has mated and reproduced on your floor

* The groceries have been ravaged by wild wildebeests

*  The work on your computer that you thought could wait has now had kittens and they all need to be fed.

*  The laundry spawn chases you down the hall because mating and reproducing isn't enough

*  Your bestie reaches out tentative electronic fingers, like the cat, to pat your face and make sure you are back where you belong

*  Your mate can't let you walk through the door without a touch, a kiss, a hello

*  Work just seems to need to wait one more day while you soothe whiskers, touch paws, beat laundry, and generally reacquaint yourself with all corners of your world.

Dear Agent/Editor/Publisher--

Dear Agent/Editor/Whomever I'm contacting--

I've currently rewritten this letter so many times I'm not sure I sound like a human being. I'm trying really hard not to sound like a dork, when, in fact, dorkiness is my brand. If I could draw a picture of a dork without it looking obscene, I'd put it on my business card--it would be my icon. I'd make it the color of my hair after my worst dye job, so people would look at it and think, "There's Amy--she's a dork who needs to get her roots done. I know her!"

Anyway-- what was I saying?

Yes-- I was trying to give you all of my good points and all of the reasons you should be hella enthused about my project, but I got totally hung up on the dork thing, and now I can't remember any of my good points. At all. I'd guess hygiene--I'm pretty sure I brushed my teeth today, and I seem to remember a shower in the last few days, so there you go. I'm a dork with good hygiene. Read my book.

Wait.

That last part--that sounds a little needy.

I'm a dork with good hygiene, we once ate lunch at a mall, and I cracked a joke I'm pretty sure you laughed at. Of course, at this stage of the game, I may have had a cliffhanger and you were laughing politely and wishing you could tackle me with a Kleenex like a second grader with a cold, but I'm going to hope there was at least a human connection there, and I'm not writing this letter to peg you in the chest from your e-mail like a flaming spear in the darkness, because I understand that would be horribly irritating and I'm trying really hard to be the opposite of that.

But see, I'm a writer--fancy that, hahahahahaha is there any way I can say that without sounding like I'm being presumptuous? No.

I got nothing.

I'm a writer, I wrote a book, do you want it?

Some people think I'm pretty good. Some people think I suck, but I'm not supposed to tell you about those people so I won't. They don't exist. I don't suck AT ALL. AT ALL I tell you, there is no suck, there is only Amy, and Amy rocks, and Amy wrote or is writing a book and she knows how to use Kleenex and will you come play with her?

Me?

Would you come play with my book?

Never mind.

HERESMYQUERYANDIMTOTALLYCOOLANDIVEATTACHEDSOMESTUFFCOULDYOUREADITPLEASETHANKYOUVERYMUCHILOVEYOUBYEBYE!

*whew*

Yeah sure. I can remake my business cards--why do you ask?

Sincerely,

Amy the Dork

Wonderful company, looooonnnnggg drive...

So, Mate and I made it down to San Diego in eight hours.

We were all smug, right? EIGHT HOURS! That's why you leave at six-thirty in the morning, bitches! THAT'S how you get it done!

Well, Saturday night (the RITA's-- congrats to Alexis Hall and Sarina Bowen/Elle Kennedy for being the first to win RITA's with LGBTQ books btw!) I got to bed understandably late. I spent the after party with Margaret, Karen and a host of wonderful people who were willing to listen to my goofiness and very impressed with my knitted sock. I loved that conversation-- wouldn't have traded it for the world--but it did mean Karen and I left a little late the next morning.

Like, say, 11:30.

I got home around 1 a.m.

I was NOT prepared for the 5 1/2 hours it took for us to get over the pass--and how miserable that driving would be. Karen drove for a HUGE bit after that, and then I finished up--and I'm telling you, we talked the whole time. The company was amazing (I have been gifted--TRULY blessed--with some awesome drive time mates this year--Kim Fielding, Christopher Koehler, Karen Rose--I would have been lost without these people!)

Anyway-- by the time I got home, I was, shall we say, a wee bit fried.

Today, we took Karen to go get her rental car-- and stopped in Old Sac as well. Alas, Darrin was not there, but the people at Candy Heaven treated us well anyway, and Karen was very impressed. (But thought the scary clown was WAY TOO SCARY.)

While we were at Candy Heaven, I realized I'd left my wallet/phone back in the car, and I had to haul my fat, slow ass to the car and back.  Karen was gracious enough to wander with my kids and check out GWhilikers (a toy store) and then take them to ice cream. They seemed to have had the best time--and on the whole, going to the airport has never been so much fun.

But I have to admit--I'm sort of done driving by now.

Like, done.

Like, if I didn't have to get in a car again for a week, I wouldn't miss it.

Which is good--because I've got a month's worth of work on my desk.

But it HAS been a wonderful time.

Night, Day, and the Yarn Truck

*  Our first night here (Tuesday) was glorious. Mate and I had a long drive, and we enjoyed talking, sans kids, and he loved the room. We got here when the All Star game was starting, and he grabbed my arm and pulled me outside, excited as a kid.

 "Did you hear that?"

"No. What is it?"

"It's the national anthem from the game!"

"That's really cool!"

And at that moment, the Blue Angels flew between US and the hotel across from us.

And we both almost crapped our pants with the total cool of that.

* Alas, I had to take Mate to the airport yesterday morning. He didn't understand why I had to do full hair and makeup before I left the room. I couldn't find words to explain to him that I would see people before I got back to my hotel room-- but it was true, and I did, and dudes, I was so glad I went full dress/makeup.

*  The signing went really well. I signed Winter Ball, and sold all but three books. I bought the books for a pittance and gave them away to nice people before the night was over!

*  Chicken came to see both Mate and I on Tuesday and then she came to see me during and after the signing. Totally on accident, we wore dresses that almost matched. And she didn't mind having her picture taken with me. I was SO EXCITED that she didn't mind looking like her big gorilla mama!

*  Last night I had dinner with Sue Brown-Moore of Grave Tells, and I had a fabulous time. Among those at the table were the glorious Cindy Dees, the lovely Asa-Maria Bradley, the ever amazing Damon Suede, and, of course, Sue.  (and Chicken and a couple of other people I didn't catch and feel bad about missing. SORRY!)  You guys--Sue and Cindy and (crap... can't remember her name, she was awesome!) were the best table mates. And Cindy-- omg, you guys. She's a fan of ME!!! I almost cried, because she's totally awesome and punched a drunk diplomat in the nose once and I adored her.  And she liked my books. *cheers*

*  I drove Chicken to the trolley station so that she might not get attacked, violated, or even killed. Guys, the trolley stations down here are scary. I was glad to do it.

*  Today I had elevenses and lunch with the dynamic amazing Karen Rose.  Then I went to the Carina Press spotlight and met back up with Karen for her discussion on presenting characters with disabilities. I was so impressed by the way Karen led this round table--and by the candor with which people spoke. It was a real good start for the change of diversity in literature, and I was proud to be a tiny part of it.

*  Afterwards, there was the Yarn Truck, which was a brilliant idea.  Brought to to us by Fish With Sticks, who is a freelance editor, the Yarn Truck comes to events where people might want to buy yarn, and Fish sat outside and handed out cards.  Brilliant on both parts. Fish got good coverage for her business, and the Yarn Truck is the Yarn Truck because rent in LA is so high. It's a traveling yarn store, and guys, the stock was amazing!

*  And here's where a glitch happened.  A funny one. Because I went to buy $126 worth of AMAZING yarn, and the Yarn Truck owner typed an extra 5. So, my attempt to purchase $5,216 dollars of yarn was declined. Thank fuck.

But the credit card alarm was tripped, and my attempt to buy $126 dollars worth of yarn was also denied.

So I used cash and my Wells Fargo card to buy the yarn, and then I got a FREAKED OUT text from Mate.

"5K IN YARN? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"

And after I explained that no, I was only a little crazy, not full blown Howard Hughes, he had me call up the credit card so that I might have a credit card when I'm 600 miles from home.

The credit card company was also highly amused.

So were my readers-- they, uh, were also skeptical that it was a typo. I SWEAR, the extra 5 was a type. Really. No lie. *nods*  True story!

*  And when that was done, the loveliest and mostest perfect Tina DeSalvo came to talk to me-- we've met before, usually when she is with Cherry Adair, but this time it was the two of us alone. We sat and chatted, and decided to go to dinner together. She ran upstairs to put her stuff away, and the also loveliest and most perfect Lynda Aicher came to hug me!  (You guys--blessings abound in my company this trip--I am so happy to see the people here!)

Tina returned, and we went looking for a restaurant and Tina was flagged down by her friends Roxanne St. Claire, Kristin Painter, and Mary Kay Andrews.  You GUYS! Roxanne is the MC of the RITA ceremonies! Kristin is an AMAZING paranormal author, and Mary Kay is a stunning author of bestselling women's fiction.

I was like "Hi, I'm, uh, Amy Lane. I'm a genre slut. Scuse me while I babble."

And they were lovely companions--I felt as though embraced by sisters. While we were out, we met Farah Rochon, who was so very kind when talking about the disability discussion-- I felt so good about being a part of that. *waves* Thanks Farah!

At the end of the evening, though, as we were getting into the elevators, there were a bunch of drunk guys, going, "Hey, ladies, we got some original stuff for YOU if you want to write about us!" I was like, "I write gay romance-- come at me, dude-bro, come at me!"  But I think Tina was a little embarrassed. *sigh* It's true-- I'm just not meant for nice company. But it sure was nice while it lasted!

San Diego Bound

So, the kids are at moms, the suitcases are packed, and Mate and I are San Diego bound tomorrow.

If we're good, we'll make it there in time for dessert--if we're REALLY good, we'll make it there in time for dinner, and in either case we have someone to eat with, so we're happy!

Anyway-- my day has been all packing and suitcases and such, to the extent that, at nine o'clock, Mate and I finished getting groceries for the trip and I said, "Hey... I think I forgot to eat."

So had Mate. We both pretty much destroyed a Del Taco burrito, take no prisoners, nobody lives forever!

Anyway, I will leave you with Tiny Dog story (thank you Secret Life of Pets).

The tiny dog likes to sleep on my knitting. I am in the middle of crocheting a poncho for a friend's daughter, and I had to pack it up in a bag while I'm gone, so I don't come back and find it unwearable by humans.  I washed Squish's GINORMOUS squishy sweater, and the dog keeps knocking it off the couch so she can sleep on the sweater on the floor.

Anyway-- I started a blanket for another friend's son this winter, and at the last moment my friend changed that order to a hooded scarf (which came out beautifully btw).  So I had about a quarter of a blanket done. I finished off the stitch I was working (it's crochet, so, easy) , folded the mom-yarn-thing, and put it just where tiny dog wanted to lay down.

And tiny dog spent the evening on the couch, on top of Squish's sweater.

Because she's an asshole.

Frickin' tiny dog. Good thing she's cute.

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