Green's Hill-Amy Lane's Home - News

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Short Takes

Just a few observations made by me and mine during the day:

 First of all, ZoomBoy got his his first student picture ID today, and this is what he had to say about it.

I told him I'd put it on social media so everybody else could share the laughter.

You all were most accommodating, thank you ;-)

Next, I had to go grocery shopping so Squish could make lunch. I said, "I mean, honey. How bad could your lunches be?"

"They're bad mom. Today we had chicken and waffles."

"But I LOVE chicken and waffles."

"Eggos and nuggets, Mom!"

"Oh. That's just cruel. Shopping now."

And also today--

ZoomBoy: What do you call a country of criminal genitalia?

Me: Got nothin'

ZoomBoy: A penile colony!

Me: Or Trump Tower.

ZoomBoy: How did the triangle stop getting hy-on-pot-(en)-use?

Me: Do tell?

ZoomBoy: He had Pythagorean Therapy!

Me: Math nerd jokes!

ZoomBoy: And stoner humor-it's fusion!

And of course Chicken sent me this picture of her cat. I added the captions.

And now for a brief political rant:

For those people saying, "He won! Get over it!"-- no he didn't.

Saying that thing in the White House "won" the presidency is like saying a meth addict who had his buddy roofie a girl in a bar so he could sexually assault her in the back of her car and then steal the car "won" a Mercedes. He used nefarious means to gain unfair advantage over an unsuspecting electorate, abused the electorate, and then took something of value that didn't belong to him because his "date" was chemically (or electronically) impaired.

Way to go, Cletus--that stolen Mercedes with the unconscious victim in the back is quite a prize--the family would way rather have that thing than a college diploma anyway.

He didn't win. He had his wingman help incapacitate his victim and he stole.

And the girl in the back will NEVER get over it.

And now, for a moment of faith...

As I was grocery shopping (for Squish's sandwich fixings) there were about three people with only one or two things who got called from one line to the other.

One was black, the other was white, and the white guy had a shaved bald head and a hockey jersey. Yes--given the events in Charlottesville today, I was a little leery. The clerk called them over, and the white guy said, "You can go ahead."

The black guy said, "No--no. You were in front of me. No worries."

"Thanks, man."  

And then the white guy hung out and waited for the other  guy's groceries to be rung up--and he paid for them.

"You don't have to--"

"No. Today, on me."

Now I know that was awkward--and probably socially wrong in some way and people will find a thousand things wrong with it.

But I saw a guy who looked like the enemy, desperately trying to prove that he was a friend. An ally. And he didn't get to go first because he was white. And the rest of the world deserved kindness.

I hope I'm right. I know the man with the free dinner fixings was grateful. Yes--he could have paid for his own groceries, but God. It must have been a relief to know the stranger was a friend.

So there you go. A little faith. Goddess knows we need it.



Monday, August 14, 2017

Middle-aged Women in the Pool

Yes, I had that conversation many of us dreaded today.

The, "There is no two sides to Naziism," conversation.

I got to the pool ten minutes late (nobody is surprised by this ever) and was staying an extra ten minutes to just sort of run in place and make up the time, and I got into a conversation with another woman there.

And I heard it.

The reason media is so important.

First, the woman asked me what "catfishing" was, and I told her, which was fine--she was grateful, she didn't understand.

Then, the conversation spun into politics--bots, hacking, false identities inevitably lead to the hacked election.

Which led to Charlottesville.

Which led to someone with a limited electronic sophistication buying into what the media had served her. "Well, the president did apologize. I liked that he said 'many sides'."

"Wait," I said. "There's really only one side to white supremacy, and it's all bad."

"But no--it's important to hear both sides."

"I had four grandparents (out of six, actually) who fought in WWII because white supremacy was the ultimate evil," I said. "I'm pretty sure they weren't interested in the other side."

"But the president said--"

"He's not my president. And there is only one side to good and evil. Peaceful protesters were hurt, a woman died, because the evil guy got into a car and drove them over.  By saying there's two sides, the shitstain in the White House says the victims deserved it. That's not the country I want my children to live in."

And she just looked at me, mouth working, like she'd never heard this line of reasoning before.

Well, she probably hadn't.

I have my rarefied Twitter bubble, my comfortable FB world, where these opinions are everybody's opinions. But this woman had no idea what "catfishing" was, and she wouldn't know those places.

She would know what the fascist government is trying to feed her.

We parted pleasantly enough--but I wondered. Did it make a difference to have a real person say, "No, I reject what you've been told. This is a bad thing."

I didn't yell or scream or say she was stupid--or say she was a Nazi. Did I alienate her further? Did I maybe change her mind?  Did she maybe look at things differently?

Now, I do know my rarefied bubble--a lot of people would say this one woman, late middle age, not too up on her tech, is not worth it. Her opinion can't be changed, and even if it could be, who cares? Middle aged white woman. Move on.

But she voted--or, in this case, refused to vote because the only media she'd registered was "but her emails", and I don't know if one other person she knew personally would give her a different opinion. An appalling number of middle-aged white women voted for the shitstain in the White House--what if they'd talked to someone, just once, without their husband's point of view?

I know that there are a surprising number of women in that pool who are liberal as hell. But they talk to each other sotto voce, because they don't want to offend the conservatives. They don't want to start anything.

I also know there are other women who think I'm loud, obnoxious, and crazy as a tuna fish, as well.

Well, that hasn't changed from pretty much the rest of my life. I've finally come to terms with it, made my peace as it were. Hopefully I can do some good as a crazy tunafish. It would certainly be a comfort the next time I have to talk about Nazis in the pool.


Sunday, August 13, 2017

Things to Do

So,

When I used to teach high school, we went through a couple of severely shitty principals.

There was the one guy who was talking at commencement--badly. I was sitting with the students, having had mostly seniors that year, and one of the kids leaned over and asked, all big eyes, "Who... is... that?"

"That's your principal."

"No he's not."

"I swear!"

"No! Dr. H is our principal!"

"No, he's one of the VP's."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"I shit you not, Ms. Lane, I've never seen that guy before in my life!"

Yeah.  Not a great leader.

There was the asswipe (and he shows up in a lot of stories as the guy who wrote me up for calling him 'Dude'. Which I did instead of calling him 'Asshole', or 'Vainglorious Prickweenie') who took over my class once when I got stuck in traffic. I'd forgotten my keys and I was outside my classroom (which was right next to the locked gate) pitching rocks against my window trying to get one of the kids to come let me in, and he wouldn't let the kid go.

I finally got in, and he'd apparently been lecturing them for forty-five minutes about what total worthless losers they were and how they'd never survive after high school. I heard part of this lecture. It was exactly what they said it was.

The list of this guy's sins as a leader was long and distinguished, but mostly he was just a shitty asshole and he hated his job and he hated his students and he hated us for sometimes needing him to deal with his students.

A great leader he was not.

And I think it was during that guy's reign of mediocrity (or another guy's--we had some complete hosers there, trust me) that we almost had a riot at our school.

Between fifth and sixth period those of us in outlying classrooms heard a roar and we could see a gathering in the quad. We hustled kids into our rooms and made them NOT gather at whatever the hell was going on in the quad, kept as many kids in the room as possible and hoped for the best.

Our other option was to leave our students and go charging through the campus to see what that mass of violence was, and that didn't sound awesome either.

It turned out that one of the teachers was trying to break up a fight--and ended up protecting one of the two kids who'd been involved while surrounded by a hundred screaming students threatening to make things go from bad to worse.

This teacher was one of the good ones. He'd been coopted as drama teacher and had done his credential work while teaching. He loved his kids, loved the school, loved the job.

He wanted to make a difference, so after he survived that, he went and got his admin credential and became a VP and then principal--one of the best I ever had.

Because he believed his school was better than that angry, seething mass of hatred, and even though the current leader was a shit-encrusted-butthole, he thought that with some hard work, the school could be better than that, so he tucked in to do the work.

I admit--I was pretty disaffected by this point. Those assholes--the long run of them--had all been the type of guy who picked the goofy woman who stood out from the crowd and used her as target practice.  Women in general were not their favorite--for a variety of reasons.  (The level of misogyny at a high school campus still boggles me. I could go on.)

But this guy--he'd worked with us in the trenches. We respected the holy fuck out of him. He was respectful toward ME. When my department made me feel like slime, this guy was the one who took me aside and said, "Your test scores were as high or higher than anyone else in your department. Don't let them do that to you."

It was the first time in my career besides the AP test (that one of the other assholes had taken away from me) in which someone referenced my test scores and even admitted I was doing a competent job.

Hell--that guy was responsible for my first job observation in six years.

So what's my point?

My point is we're afraid and there are riots.

There are idiots--terrible terrible people--doing terrible, terrifying things to our country and our leader is a shit-encrusted-asshole who not only doesn't know how to stop it, is actually initiating policy that helps to encourage it.

And we are afraid.  For those of us far away, we are gathering our families together and making sure they don't go out into the danger--and don't become part of it. But we're well aware (or we should be) that "far away" could be in our backyard any day. We could be the one standing in the middle of the shouting assholes, trying to protect someone because that's just our fucking job.

And no amount of complaining is going to get the shit-encrusted-asshole out of the place of leadership any sooner (although I have faith he's got to go) and when he goes, we don't have any reassurance the next guy is anything less than just "not so psychotic".

So what do we do?

Well, here's the thing. I DIDN'T have a job review in six years. None of us did. We could have been teaching the kids how to put condoms on bananas (except that would have been useful AND gotten us fired) for all anybody knew.

But we weren't.

We were all teaching them the California state standards.

Maybe not as a cohesive whole--and using shitty textbooks--but dammit, that's what we were teaching. We were fighting for the AP program and grading them on their essays and making them comprehend and even love the literature and helping them get into college.

WE NEVER STOPPED DOING OUR JOBS.

We were there for the kids. We were there for the community.

The shit-encrusted-asshole in the office was the last person we aimed to please. (DUUUUUUUUUUUDE....)

Because he really wasn't worth our attention. We could only control what was going on in our classrooms--and plan and hope and educate ourselves to train up a better leader in the future.

I know this situation is scarier. There is no guarantee a "Jimmy Eick" (which is what I called him in Bonfires) will arise, and if he did, well, we already watched the shit-encrusted-asshole betray his country to cheat his way into power.

But that doesn't change the fact that we never STOPPED TEACHING.

None of us.

We never stopped doing what was right to the best of our ability. We never stopped trying to protect our students. We never stopped trying to get them into college.

Was it easier with good leadership? Oh hell yes.

But you don't get a teaching credential and then go to a school district with a 98% free and reduced lunch rate because you're looking for easy.

So what do we do?

Same sitch, bigger stakes.

We ignore the shitty leader. We take steps to remove him, sure. But everything that comes out of his mouth is a shit-scented lie--document the lie, take appropriate steps, and let him rot from the inside out, as he appears to be doing.

And then we keep teaching. We keep NOT buying the racist rhetoric, we keep making our own communities as inclusive and as kind as we can, and when we're able, we take the leadership roles that make us feel like we're making a difference.

Mate is soccer registrar this year. One of the things he's had to deal with is helping coaches deal with children with disabilities. For example, NOT giving up on the neuro-atypical kids because a coach wants his U8 kids to be "winners!"

Such a small thing, to give someone the tools to be a better volunteer, a better mentor, a better coach. Such a small thing to try to stand up for the kid who (much like our kid) is not always on pace with the other knot of seven year olds running around in circles.

Such an important thing, trying to create a world in which everybody--EVERYBODY-- is accepted and cared for and given a chance to succeed.

And we don't need the shit-encrusted traitor who betrayed his country to vomit fascism all over our most deeply held values to tell us how to hold on to the center of those values through bile and hellfire.

Most of us already know.

Thursday, August 10, 2017

A List of Wierdness

* First of all--I write as a profession. I have yet to be able to spell the word "weird" right without electronic help.  Thought that worth mentioning.

* Isn't it odd, how, every year, sometime in August, just when you think you won't be able to live with your progeny for one more minute if you have to hear them arguing about video games again, this marvelous institution opens up, and they are expected to attend for part of the day. And this happens several days a week! It's... it's amazing. It's practically magical. I wish this institution on every parent. I mean, I understand that there's a growing malignancy in our government that wishes to keep its citizens as stupid as possible and is gradually cutting money to this institution, but in the meantime, before it disappears completely, I'm going to take advantage of it.

In fact, it just might save my sanity.

*  Another magical place is Starbucks. They make both caffeinated beverages and high-calorie sugary snacks, and when you didn't get a lot of sleep the night before because you had to shuttle children to their institutions, well, Starbucks too is a magical place.

*  Tomorrow, we are taking children (and Big T!) to Lake SugarPine with my parents. For those of you who have read Rampant, yes, THAT Lake SugarPine. I'm actually looking forward to swimming in it--it's cold A.F., but there's something about swimming around in a real lake that makes me feel like all that time spent in aqua aerobics--which has not lost me a single pound, mind you--is at least IN TRAINING for something larger. Like swimming for an hour without touching in a mostly clean lake.

*  Of course, this leads to one of my biggest irrational fears--and this is where I conquer it. I do it every so often--I go swimming in water dark enough to not be able to see my feet-- or the bottom.

I've told this story a lot (and recently I asked a bunch of people about it on the blog tour for Red Fish, Dead Fish,) but I once thought I'd try to write this little phobia out of my system by putting a scene about it in Vulnerable. Cory goes swimming in Folsom Lake and a hidden vampire grabs her ankle.

Ha! Take that, hidden fear! Take that! My heroine shall rise above you!  Right?

Uh, no. Now I'm REALLY freaked out about what's under my feet when I can't see. Imagine all those old Nordic woodcuts about sea monsters that will eat you, except make them three times as ugly with too many pointy teeth-- THA'TS what's under the water, waiting to nibble on my toes.

So yeah. Going swimming in the lake? If I can hold my shit together, it makes me really damned empowered.

And if I can't, my family gets a good laugh out of that too.

*  The adolescent children are exhausted after the first day of school. This means I get to write a little earlier. This means I might go to bed a little earlier.

Wow.

The magic does not stop giving, does it?

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

Twas the Night Before School Starting

T'was the night before school starting
And all through the house
All the children were crying--
Or at least sad and morose.

The new shoes were nestled
All snug in their boxes
While mom double checked
For knickers and socks

While the cats in disdain
And the dogs in their need
Wondered, with the kids gone,
Who's job was to feed!

And Mate with his e-mails
And me with my yarn
Both gave boring lectures
On avoiding school harm.

Don't bait the mean bullies,
Don't forget to brush teeth
Be nice to your teachers
And get enough sleep.

Remember your pencils,
Remember your meds,
Write down all your homework
Remember your heads.

Don't forget your homeroom,
Your schedule, your lunch--
A protein bar for breakfast
The granola kind with crunch.

I'll get you up early
And help with your hair,
So we can make it to the car
With no need to swear.

I'll be up when you get ready
I'll kiss you goodbye
You're all grown up in high school
You're ready to fly

Be nice to your brother,
He's nervous enough
Yeah, I know there'll be shopping
There's always more stuff.

But now here it is bedtime
Oh so early at ten
I know you're excited
Close your eyes in pretend.

And next week when you're tired
Sleep'll be real as heck
So Mom and Dad won't stay up
Til 2 a.m. for the sex!
(Which made us cranky all summer,
And totally sleep-wrecked.)

But for now, close your eyes
Mom and Dad'll say prayers,
That they'll see all you're awesomeness
That we'll always be there
To wish you luck on the first day
When things are brand new
And give you love on the worst days
When life gets so cruel
And we'll party on the last day
Cause you've survived school.

Night kids--

I hope the next year is wonderful.




Morphology-Based Phylogeny

So folks-- it's been a while since I delved into ficlet and fan fiction land. I'm not even sure I have enough for an ENTIRE ficlet about Dex and Kane--but I have just enough time before I fall asleep to give it a try.

This was initially inspired by a meme about morphology-based phylogeny.  I swear, somebody in my FB group posted it, and I showed it to Kim Fielding who said it should be made into a ficlet.

And I live to serve.

*  *  *

Dex watched as Kane squinted at his homework over the kitchen table.

"Unca Kane has a headache," Frances announced. She put down her crayon to pat his hand and then resumed coloring. The deal had been she could do her work with her Uncle Kane while Dex made dinner--but she had to be very quiet.

Kane muttered, "Uncle Kane is looking at some damned weird words. Hey, Dexter--come over here and read this for me."

He didn't ask often, so Dex left the chicken he was simmering for dinner, washed his hands and came around the table.

"Morphology," Dex said.

"Yeah--I know that one. It means body type, right? We learned the root words. So, physical thing. Does it have hair, does it have skin-- that stuff."

Dex smiled at him, damned proud. "Yeah. Good. So you know that one. Do you know the other one?"

"Phylogeny-- that's like phylum. Like type. Like classification and stuff."

"So..." Dex waited for him to put it together.

"No--I get it," Kane said. "I just don't get it."

Frances squinted at him. "Get what?"

"Well, it's classifying stuff. Like, you know, are we all mammals. But it's based on the body things."

Dex nodded, not sure where he was going with this.  "Yeah..."

"But that's confusing. It's like... like, saying if it has hair, it's gotta be a mammal. But Frances has stuffed animals that have hair, and they're just stuffed animals."

Oh. "It's gotta be alive, silly!" Frances laughed gaily, and Kane grimaced.

He obviously wasn't done with this idea yet.

"Okay then--what about hairless cats. They're mammals, but they don't have hair, right?"

"Well that's not all true." Dex had visited the vet part of Tommy's Pet Smart a few times, trying to figure out if he and John could own part of that franchise. It didn't seem to make sense, but he knew a lot of his guys would be happier leaving porn if there was a job dealing with animals that they could get somehow.  "I've petted a hairless cat before--they actually have hair, but super short hair. It's like bristles on a pig, but his skin is softer."

Frances had a "bullshit" line between her brown eyes that activated when she was skeptical about how the world worked. "Kitties have pig skin?"

"No," Dex said, wondering how to explain this better. "Pigs have tough skin, and this kitty has a soft skin, but pigs have short hairs that bristle when you rub them backwards and hairless cats have short hairs that bristle when you rub them back."

The bullshit line got deeper. "When why are they called hairless kitties? Why aren't they called bristly kitties?"

"I do not know that," Dex told her, "and my chicken needs tending."

"Do chickens have bristles?" Frances asked, pretty much harrying him on his way to the kitchen.

"No--well, yeah. Their feathers are like bristles close to the skin."

"Do we eat those?" Frances asked, and Dex foresaw a future in which no chicken was served in their household for many many years. They'd have to resort to tofu, and Kane would rebel and leave him with all the animals and Dex's life would be over.

"We do not eat the feathers," Dex said carefully. "There are no chicken bristles in the food." Oh please don't let her ask where the meat comes from. Please don't let her ask where the meat comes from.

"But do we eat the chickens that bach-bach and lay eggs?"  Frances asked suspiciously. Kane suddenly shot upright, looking panicked. Oh yeah--it occurred to him too that if Frances decided she didn't want to eat the nice birds, with or without feathers, they were in for some long damned meals in the future.

Dex felt time telescoping down to a small dark bubble, where plucked chickens danced to taunt him and people brushed their hair with hairless cats. "Yes, bunny. Those are the chickens we eat."

"Oh." Frances nodded and went back to her coloring.  But Kane couldn't leave it alone.

"Oh? That's all you got, bunny? Oh?"

Frances looked at him, bullshit line appearing between her eyes. "Well, they're the special kind of chickens, right? The ones born without heads and feathers? So they must be for us to eat."

"Uh..."  Kane looked at him, panicked.

"Yeah," Dex said, lying his ass off to an innocent child. "Those are the special kind of chickens. We don't eat the other kind."

"Cause those are like people," Frances said.

"Sure," Kane told her, sounding stunned.

"Like coconuts. They have hair too."

Kane let out a little moan and laid his head in his arms. "I get it now," he mumbled. "Dexter, make it stop."

Dex distracted her by telling her to go wash her hands and clean up her color crayons and books.  She ran off to do just that, and Kane let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh my God, Dexter!"

"I know!" Dex hissed, turning the chicken one more time. "One false word and we're eating tofu for the rest of our lives!"

"I know, right!" Kane scrubbed his face with his hands. "I'll tell you one thing--knowing all those long words might be part of being smart, but making a category for things that depends on just a couple of body parts is hella stupid."

"Morphology based phylogeny," Dex said in wonder. "I mean, you never know what's going to cook your chicken, but you don't think it's going to be that."



Monday, August 7, 2017

*Kermit Flail* Modest August

YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!


*PHEW*

So folks, I'm going to have to admit it--I was so busy with RWA and my own release these last two weeks that I forgot to promote the flail. I'd feel mighty bad about that, BUT, some folks sent me stuff anyway, and that makes me feel GREAT because it means the Flail has done good things for them, and that's something that's important to me.

So, if you can stand a Flail that's a little bit more about me than usual, I'll continue to, you know, ASK FOR STUFF TO FLAIL. 

So we've got a modest but powerful offering today-- we start with E.J. Russell's second installment to her Fae Out of Water series, and this just sounds so delightful-- I may have to read it! I love me some paranormal romance, and this is the second volume I've highlighted--it's really starting to sing.

Also up we have Anne Barwell's WWII drama, Comes a Horseman which looks taut and exciting and very intricate--again, not your usual!

As for me, well, Fish Out of Water is still on sale, and Red Fish, Dead Fish is getting some nice press--people seem to feel that Jackson got tortured a lot in this installment, but don't tell Jackson that--he'll be like, "Bring it the fuck ON!" Seriously-- the blog tour is still going, and we've added an extra stop on Friday, to showcase Melinda Leigh's interview again. (It was supposed to be showcased this last Friday, but I thought it needed more hoopla so I've put it someplace sooper extra special.)

I was on FB with the Dreamspinner Dreamreaders this weekend, answering a LOT of questions, actually, so if you FB with the Dreamreaders, you might want to check it out!

And that's about all I can think about tonight--I admit, I spent a little too long at the computer with the FB takeover, and my eyes are swimming!  But I'm grateful to E.J. and Anne for remembering me, and I'm glad for everyone who's taken a look at Fish--next month, I promise, even more flailing, and WAY more YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!!!!!!!







Fae Out of Water Series

Once upon a time, there were three brothers, nobles of the Seelie Court of Faerie, who set out to seek their fortunes. The eldest—

Scratch that. Rrrrrewind.

Nowadays, when tales are told in 140 character bursts on tiny LED screens, rather than spun out by the glow of a midnight campfire, even Faerie’s elite have to get with the program.

The Kendrick brothers have traded longbow for briefcase, battle steed for Harley, and enchanted harp for electric guitar. But while they’re finding their feet in the modern world, instead of finding their fortunes, they stumble straight into love.

The Druid Next Door (Fae Out of Water #2)

by E.J. Russell


Professor Bryce MacLeod has devoted his entire life to environmentalism. But how effective can he be in saving the planet when he can’t even get his surly neighbor to separate his recycling?

Former Queen’s Enforcer Mal Kendrick doesn’t think his life could get any worse: he’s been exiled from Faerie with a cursed and useless right hand. When he’s not dodging random fae assassins in the Outer World, he’s going toe-to-toe with his tree-hugging neighbor. And when he discovers that the tree hugger is really a druid, he’s certain the gods have it in for him—after all, there’s always a catch with druids. Then he’s magically shackled to the man and expected to instruct him in Supernatural 101.

All right, now things couldn’t possibly get worse.

Until a mysterious stranger offers a drunken Mal the chance to gain back all he’s lost—for a price. After Mal accepts, he discovers the real catch: an ancient secret that will change his and Bryce’s life forever.

Ah, what the hells. Odds are they won’t survive the week anyway.




Comes a Horseman 

by Anne Barwell

Echoes Rising Book 3, sequel to Winter Duet

France, 1944
Sometimes the most desperate struggles take place far from the battlefield, and what happens in secret can change the course of history.

Victory is close at hand, but freedom remains frustratingly just beyond the grasp of German physicist Dr. Kristopher Lehrer, Resistance fighter Michel, and the remaining members of the team sent by the Allies—Captain Matt Bryant, Sergeant Ken Lowe, and Dr. Zhou Liang—as they fight to keep the atomic plans from the Nazis. The team reaches France and connects with members of Michel’s French Resistance cell in Normandy. Allied troops are poised to liberate France, and rescue is supposedly at hand. However, Kristopher is no longer sure the information he carries in his memory is safe with either side.

When Standartenf├╝hrer Holm and his men finally catch up with their prey, the team is left with few options as they fight to keep atomic plans from the Nazis. With a traitor in their midst, who can they trust? Kristopher realizes he must become something he is not in order to save the man he loves. Death is biding his time, and sacrifices must be made for any of them to have the futures they want.




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.






Red Fish, Dead Fish
by Amy Lane


They must work together to stop a psychopath—and save each other.

Two months ago Jackson Rivers got shot while trying to save Ellery Cramer’s life. Not only is Jackson still suffering from his wounds, the triggerman remains at large—and the body count is mounting.

Jackson and Ellery have been trying to track down Tim Owens since Jackson got out of the hospital, but Owens’s time as a member of the department makes the DA reluctant to turn over any stones. When Owens starts going after people Jackson knows, Ellery’s instincts hit red alert. Hurt in a scuffle with drug-dealing squatters and trying damned hard not to grieve for a childhood spent in hell, Jackson is weak and vulnerable when Owens strikes.

Jackson gets away, but the fallout from the encounter might kill him. It’s not doing Ellery any favors either. When a police detective is abducted—and Jackson and Ellery hold the key to finding her—Ellery finds out exactly what he’s made of. He’s not the corporate shark who believes in winning at all costs; he’s the frightened lover trying to keep the man he cares for from self-destructing in his own valor.








ZoomBoy and the Phone

Very quick post tonight--

ZoomBoy has a phone. Or rather, ZoomBoy has MY old Microsoft Phone that we used to call the cockroach of phones, because it refused to die. 

We also called it the "phablet" because it's pretty big.

Anyway-- his dad took him and his sister to see their grandma today, and I stayed home and worked. That didn't stop ZB from giving his phone a workout though--

 ZB: Mom, she read until one in the morning.

Me: Well, she's tired.

ZB: I wish I had a pen to draw a mustache on her.

Me: Gimme a sec....

ZB: Good photoshop, mom!

ZB: If you feed it after midnight, you'll run out of cat food for eternity.

Me: Very funny. Tell Chicken.

Chicken: Mom, he's been texting me all day.

Me: Well, it was a pretty good picture.

Chicken: Cat Noir





-- so, yeah.  I foresee lots of hilarity to come!

And then there's this picture of Gordie that I posted on Instagram, along with the caption, "Somebody give this cat some fucks..."

I left out the part "As you can see, he has none of his own to give..."

I figured that was self-explanatory.

And that's about it for the night, folks--

Too much FB takeover, not enough writing!

Night all!



Thursday, August 3, 2017

Kindle sales and specials and RED FISH IS OUT!

So we all know that primetime news has been hard at work trying to avoid repeating what Anthony Scaramucci actually said--i.e., "I don't mean to suck my own cock here..." on a NYT interview.

What we don't know is how many impressionable young people strained themselves trying it to see if it was possible.

ZoomBoy was smart--he asked if it was physically possible first. I said, "Only with a lot of stretching first," and he said, "Yeah, and you'd have to be pretty big to make it in there."

So good. That's one kid who won't sprain his back doing something unmentionable.

I"m proud of my kid for having the sense God gave a goat, but once again, embarrassed as fuck for my country.

In other news, ZoomBoy is going to his high school orientation tomorrow. I'm nervous for the little nerd ball. He's just not old enough to be there, you know? I hope he makes it through this next year--he's such an awesome kid.

Of course, in the self preservation side of things, I've only got a week to go to try to keep writing while my kids are in the house 24/7, and I gotta admit--that's pretty awesome. I love them, but sometimes it's hard to work from home with them. Saying.

Also, soccer has started. *sigh*  Squish was like, "Mom, you're not going to watch me practice today?" and I was like, "It's 104 and I got to bed at 2:30 a.m.. Sorry honey. I'll wait until it's 95."

She understood.

Anyway--

I've got a lot of new stuff and deals on my books so I was going to list that all here in one place for you!

First of all-- Fish Out of Water will be $.99 for another week, I think? 

Second of all-- RED FISH, DEAD FISH IS OUT!!!!  

Third of all-- Beneath the Stain is a Kindle Special for $1.99 ALL MONTH

Fourth of all-- Vulnerable is a Kindle Special for $1.99 ALL MONTH!!! 

Now, I gave you the amazon link, but remember--all specials are also good at www.dreamspinnerpress.com !!!

And oh! I will be part of a FB takeover at the DreamReader Group this weekend... if you ever wanted to ask me questions like "How big is your yarn stash?" and "Why did you kill Adrian?", now is your chance!

(For the record? Mate said I should answer that last one, "Because I was done with him."  I told him no thanks, I chose life.)

Anyway--if you want an interactive chat, I'll be there.

Amy