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

Tuesday, October 30, 2018

Wooooohhooooooo...

Look at poor Guest Dog Gibbs-- doesn't she look jealous? Soooo jealous-- she doesn't have a costume either. 

*sigh* Poor Gibbs-- we're going to have to buy her a costume so she doesn't feel left out. 

Chicken suggested a pirate since we have a lobster and a spider. Then she suggested a skirt--because her cat, Mrs. Poopy Butthole looks ever so fetching in one, and Chicken wants to share. 

Anyway, Something--she just looks so sad and alone without her own little lesson in humiliation, doesn't she?

So, it's getting to be that time again--I told ZoomBoy he should go Trick-Or-Treating and he was like, "Yeah, but when does it stop?"

I was like, "When your little sister declares Trick-Or-Treating passe, then we shall be completely done with the ritual. Until then, you will only get upset because you'll feel like you're missing out. 


And I have to admit--he and his brother had a good time decorating the house.

I know you can't see it, but back behind the pumpkin is a "cat mummy" that looks a whole lot like Gordie did, when he was alive. Since we've got three cats, a number of rats, a guinea pig, some fish and a hamster buried in that vinca patch there in front of the house, we do get a kick out of putting little plastic animal skeletons around it, with headstones. 

We are sick, sick people around Halloween.

I mean, just look at the poor dogs. I mean... sad. Just sick and sad.

I'm pretty sure Johnnie has ditched the lobster costume under the bed where he knows we can't get to it. 

*evil laugh*

We'll just have to think of something worse to put him in next year. 

Argh!



Sunday, October 28, 2018

Putt putt putt... when you're pretty much out of gas.

So Friday had an unexpected climax.

I spent most of the day working--trying hard to catch up with ALL THE THINGS that don't get done when you're on a trip. My friend Berry Jello texted and asked if we wanted to go see her daughter in a local haunted house--and of course we did.

We did not expect it to take 3 1/2 hours of standing--not walking, standing--out of our lives.

Like, my thighs and calves were cramping so badly I almost couldn't walk through the haunted house.

The hard thing was, we didn't want to leave--she'd promised her daughter she'd come see her, and that's a promise you don't break, and Squish and Chicken and I knew that when we agreed to go on that ride.

I tried not to whine too hard--and it helped that I found a couple of breakfast bars that had been through multiple airports and were at that "easy sharing" stage. (i.e., they were in little pieces inside their wrappers.)

But it did sort of knock me out that night--not as much writing as I'd hoped.

Anyway--Saturday was walking the dogs and soccer--Mate and I were both exhausted by the time it was done, and today?

Well, it was supposed to just be taking Squish to the craft store, and I was looking forward to it all weekend. But I was tired, and I'd had to get T to do laundry and I didn't feel well and... *whine*

I was just out of gas. No real time last week to rest up from my trip, you know? No long naps. No extended moments sitting in front of the television, thinking, "Oh, yes... boredom... now I remember..."

So as Sunday draws to a close, and I try to make my word count, I'm sort of depressed.

I wanted to be more rested than this.

I want to have my craft book close to done so I could start on Paint it Black Thursday sharp, and honestly, I'm falling asleep at 11.

*sigh*

*whine*

Maybe I'll go to bed early tonight and hope for some more sleep tomorrow.

It really couldn't hurt, you know?

Thursday, October 25, 2018

Honey Baby Sweetie Face

So, it's getting cold at night and the mornings are nippy--looks like it's sweater time, right?

Squish is getting entirely too old and sensible for Mom-wear, but ZoomBoy still treasures his sweater and the hat and mitt (yes, one, we don't know where the other one is) that go with it.

So this morning he put on all the Mom-wear because we were taking the cat to the vet on his way to school this morning.

Dewey just had a comprehensive and some vaccinations. He wasn't happy about it, but he went, and on the way from the vet's, ZoomBoy started talking about Dewey and how he worried just a little bit, because on the first day of school this year, he left three cats and came home just in time to watch the vet put down Gordie.

He got... upset.

He started to cry, worrying about Dewey, about his sweet, chubby, stupid Maine Coon cat, who just kicked back and judged things and lived to eat rather than ate to live.

I had to hold him for a couple of minutes in the front of the car, and finally he was ready to get out. He stuck his head in the window and said, "I love you, bye bye," before he did, because I told my kids that "I love you, bye bye" was the only control we had over life or death. We could let the people we loved know that we loved them before we parted. And hope for the best.

Anyway, e stopped to get a water from the back of the minivan, and while he was there I watched a car coming up the street behind us.

"Car!" I called out before he shut the hatch, and then looked in the side mirror just in time to watch him almost step in front of the fucking car. 

He didn't even see it, but my heart was in my throat and my eternal gratitude goes out to whoever was driving and saw that neon green sweater and thought, "Hey, this kid is probably flaky as piecrust," and slowed the hell down.

I told ZoomBoy this when I went to pick him up, and he was instantly contrite. "Oh, I did! I'm sorry Mom. Didn't mean to worry you!"

"Just... you know! You worry about Dewey crossing the street--how do you think I feel about YOU!!!"

This got me another hug, and then I had to go pick up the stupid cat.

The vet loves this cat by the way. They ask about Geoffie--which I think is hysterical, because she's THAT pet--but the whole office was like, "Aw... Dewey. He's great. Just sits there and chills. Doesn't even blink when we prod his bod, you know?"

"Yeah," I say dryly. "He's our honey baby sweetie face--always has been."

Anyway--the one thing they told us was that he seemed to be short on tartar. "We don't know what you're doing to keep his teeth clean, but keep it up."

"We feed him kibble," I said. "A WHOLE lot of kibble."

"Well, maybe not so much. He is a little chubby."

"Mmm... not gonna change that," I tell them honestly, and they let it be.

But I do have to tell you that as I was hefting his cat carrier into the car, me and Honey Baby Sweetie Face had a few words.

"You know, cat, if you're going to keep getting fatter, maybe we should put you on a leash for vet trips."

"Meow," he said, as if to remind me that he was, indeed, a cat and a leash was just crazy talk.

"Fine."

I wrestled the carrier into the car and brought him home.

"Here you are, ZoomBoy. Here's your Meep. Now do me a favor and keep both of you out of the street, okay?"

"Okay Mom. Sorry!"

Whatever. I'd been emotionally exhausted by my boy and his cat--it was time for me to settle down for my nap.

Wednesday, October 24, 2018

I'm home-- and there's a new release out!

So, super quick--Hiding the Moon is out, and reading reviews is sort of funny. Some people are like, "Totally functions alone--but you definitely want to read all the other books first!" Some people are like, "DEFINITELY read the other books first!"

I'm like, "Whatever makes you happy--but I was hoping Burton and Ernie could function as their own couple, like the other guys were just really interesting background..."  But I guess that's the difficulty of writing deep world stuff like that.

It's a crapshoot.

Anyway--it's available AT AMAZON and AT DREAMSPINNER and I hope you love it :-)

Also I'm home.

And that's pretty cool.

The dogs have been just insane psycho mutts since I got home.  Like jumping up and head butting me when I'm not paying enough attention. God knows, I love the little goobers, but the headbutts I could live without.

Squish has given me lots of hugs, and so has ZoomBoy. Tonight we talked about why revolutions don't just stop when it's time to stop, why they always go too far, and also why consanguinity helped destroy the European royal family in the early 20th century, and also Eddie Izzard.

Chicken stopped by at nap time (because of course she did) and we chatted about Halloween and plot bunnies and why she wasn't giving back the potato chip/onion dip crunch I'd given her to taste. (You take the last crumbs of potato chips from the bag, mix them with a couple of spoonfuls of onion dip, and eat them like potatoes. I'd be ashamed of doing this, but I never end up eating all of it. Ever.)

And Mate did a week's worth of dishes tonight, just to make me happy.

So yes. I've been missed. Now, if I could only catch up on my sleep.


Tuesday, October 23, 2018

Not Quite Home

Current Mood: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=VT-SFgkVlno&feature=youtu.be

Okay so more about the con—which was lovely—on tomorrow’s blog.
Right now, we’re sticking to yesterday, which had it’s moments.

Wake up in Virginia, 7 a.m.. Andrew and I dress and pack like PROS cause we know the routine by now. Check out, into the Mustang, and GO.

McDonald’s at 9:30.

Rest stop at 11:30–I take a picture of Andrew’s hands in the fingerless mitts I gave him, as sort of a thank you for doing all the driving. They look good. He’s happy. So am I. :-)

BWI at 1. *MASSIVE HUGS* because it’s been a rough trip and we have been staunch and faithful roomies and friends and I can’t imagine having the kind of trip we did with someone I didn’t get along with as well as Andrew Grey.

Get to BWI— find 4 o’clock flight has been moved to 6 o’clock. But I should still get to Seattle on time.

Get to Seattle after a little bit of turbulence and no food, and find that my flight is cancelled.

I literally can’t go home.

I rebook the flight for today, almost noon, get to the airport hotel just in time to see their food service close, and throw my shit on the bed.

Folks, I had no underwear.

I literally sent Mate a picture of a pair of rinsed out drawers on the heating unit to dry.

Which brings me to waking up in the middle of the night afraid I was going to die because the heating unit is apparently never used and the smell of burning dust literally left smoke in the air.

And I’m starving. Last night on the phone I told Mate, “I’m going to get to the airport early and go to McDonalds.”

He said, “And what?”

“And nothing. THAT IS THE END OF THAT STORY. Happy ending achieved. I’m gonna eat me some sausage, drink me some coffee, and pretend I’m home feeding bad shit to the furry assholes.”

“The miss you. So do I.”

“I miss you too.”

So cross your fingers for me, folks— I leave the hotel in twenty minutes. Hopefully I’m going home.

Tuesday, October 16, 2018

GRL Ho! But don't forget...

So I'm leaving for GRL tomorrow, and that's exciting!  I'm sort of hanging out on the quiet profile there, which is unusual for me, but I look forward to hanging out with a lot of friends I haven't seen in a while. So WHEEEE!!! I am, as usual, SO BEHIND on my packing--but I'm also so happy to go.

BUT when I get back, I'll have a book out before I can even post about it!  So I'll post now, to remind you, because this is exciting!

This is the companion book to A Few Good Fish 3, as well as Racing for the Sun--but (and I swear this is true!) I'm pretty sure it can be read on it's own. I mean it's great to know Ace and Sonny beforehand, and you do get up close and personal with Ellery and Jackson-- but Hiding the Moon is pure romance. It's when two of the most unlikely people meet-- a hardcore government assassin and a flaky psychic--and somehow fill in the void in each other.

I am surprised at how much I loved this book. 

So remember it-it's coming next Tuesday, and it should be a wild ride!

Blurb:


Fish Out Of Water: Book Four - A Fish Out of Water/Racing for the Sun Crossover
Can a hitman and a psychic negotiate a relationship while all hell breaks loose?

The world might not know who Lee Burton is, but it needs his black ops division and the work they do to keep it safe. Lee’s spent his life following orders—until he sees a kill jacket on Ernie Caulfield. Ernie isn’t a typical target, and something is very wrong with Burton’s chain of command.

Ernie’s life may seem adrift, but his every action helps to shelter his mind from the psychic storm raging within. When Lee Burton shows up to save him from assassins and club bunnies, Ernie seizes his hand and doesn’t look back. Burton is Ernie’s best bet in a tumultuous world, and after one day together, he’s pretty sure Lee knows Ernie is his destiny as well.

But when Burton refused Ernie’s contract, he kicked an entire piranha tank of bad guys, and Burton can’t rest until he takes down the rogue military unit that would try to kill a spacey psychic. Ernie’s in love with Burton and Burton’s confused as hell by Ernie—but Ernie’s not changing his mind and Burton can’t stay away. Psychics, assassins, and bad guys—throw them into the desert with a forbidden love affair and what could possibly go wrong?











Poor Mate

Once again, Mate got home exhausted, just when I was ready to stay up and work.

I sent him to bed, and sat down to my news feed and found something that made me laugh.

And I needed to share it with my Mate.

"Mate! Mate! Are you still awake?"

"Mmfffine, here, whazzzouwant?"

"No, I gotta tell you about this thing I just read, about people having sex in Disneyland, right? And they got stuck on the Pirate of the Caribbean ride, right?"

"Din you tell me bout this yessserday?"

"No! I swear! I just read this right now! Anyway, guy had his girlfriend go down on him when the Pirate ride got stuck, and the actor and the tech guy were just watching from the tech booth and they couldn't really do anything, and then they saw the girl about to spit over the side and--"

"Spitting is for quitters. Tha'ss the punchline. It's a fake story."

"Oh. Okay. Well, sorry. Just made me laugh. Wanted to share it with you."

"Mmmmmfffffff...."

I pat him. "Don't worry, Mate. Sorry. Won't bother you again. And I swear, I'll NEVER try to give you a blowjob on the Pirates of the Caribbean--"

Mate sits bolt upright in bed. "What? What'd I do! I"m awake! Do I need to get up? Fine! Fine! Whatever you need me to do--"

"Go back to sleep! It wasn't a threat--I swear! You'd be horrified if we did that in public."

"Oh. Yeah. I would."  He falls back against the pillows. "Are you coming to bed yet?"

"No. I gotta work."

"Fine. Go work."

"Sorry to disturb you."

"Yeah, whatever. I gotta get some sleep."

"Sorry Mate."

"Fine."

Honestly, I'm lucky he's still with me at all.

Monday, October 15, 2018

Long Weekend

Today was sort of awesome because we did very little. But yesterday...

Yesterday was a tournament, which meant we were there all day, cheering the girls to... well, we tied once. Yay! Other than that it was all, "Well, I don't know what happened."  *sigh*  The girls are fine, but Mate doesn't take it well.

Anyway, the day wasn't over when it was over.

Mate had tickets to a concert with his friends in downtown Sacramento, and the tourney was on West side.

Big T was begging us to help him with his laundry--he had to take a train to Davis today to see a play for his class, and he has a really full schedule.

ZoomBoy had been home alone all day, living on shredded cheese and pepperoni, and we needed to bring him something to eat.

Squish was dying for ice cream.

We had one of Squish's teammates whose family can't give her a ride in the back of the minivan...

So of course our only option was to drop Mate off, stop by the kids' apartment for laundry, go to Adalberto's for food, drop Squish off at home first, drop her teammate at her home next (that's just the order I was passing the house in, otherwise teammate would have been first), drive to the grocery store for gelato and then drive home.

Whew.

And collapse in my chair nearly two hours after the tournament ended and call it a day.

And then wait up for Mate.

Now something you should know about that stop for food.

The clerk at the window had given away all her fucks earlier in the day, and had no shits to give either. As we were waiting in line, one of the sodas Mate keeps in the car started to shoot soda all over teammate and Squish had to run it up to a trash can, still in her soccer uniform, and then shake her hands out and run back, and we didn't even get a raised eyebrow.

I ordered an everything burrito, and instead of, you know, making a burrito, they apparently dumped everything onto TWO tortillas and folded it loosely, like you'd fold underwear because why bother, then sort of drape it in crinkled paper wrap.

Squish pulled it out to take a bite on the way home because it was nearly eight o'clock and they hadn't eaten since 11:30 and it was as big as her head. She got a bite in and said she'd eat the other thing we ordered--it was like eating one of the dogs--not in flavor, mind you, just in sheer volume.

So Mate got home at 11:30 and he was... listing. To his right. In the extreme. He'd had four--FOUR--vodka and tonics and ZERO dinner, after a day like the one we'd had.

Four.

He was very sweet. (He's a very sweet drunk.) But I was like, "Can I get you something to eat?"

"What's this? It looks GREAT!"

"I'll put that on a plate for you... here we go... to the left... the left..."

"I know what I'm doing!"

"You're headed for the table. It's full. Now this way... through the doorway... there you go. The couch. We're all good."

"Mmm... this burrito... it's really amazing."

"Anything's amazing when you haven't eaten for twelve hours."

"It's like the best thing ever. And there's so mu...."'

And that's when he fell asleep, about eight bites into the burrito the size of his head.

I took the plate away and left the lights on so he wouldn't wake up disoriented, and went to bed. He crawled in with me about three hours later, with a crick in his neck. Apparently when you're as cute as he is, your only hangover glitch is (his words) "A really weird poop."  Lucky duck.

When I got up this morning, he was up, with motrin, finishing off the burrito and watching SNL with the kids. I got up, got dressed, said, "Taking the dogs out! Anyone want to go with me?"

And he said, "I was thinking I might go back to bed."

"You know, I thought you were going to go another way with that. I was just about to say, 'No, hon, it's okay, I don't need any company, you should get some sleep.'"

That earned me a laugh and a high five for superlative sarcasm.

And when I got back, the burrito had been completely devoured.

All things considered, it might be easier on him if we win a game or two at the next tourney--but I'm not counting on it.

Thursday, October 11, 2018

That Sort of Day...

So, it's been that sort of day...

... the sort of day in which two orders at KFC result in three sodas, neither of them the diet pepsi your friend asked for when we sat at the speaker.

...the sort of day in which you realize your love/hate attachment to the Conjuring movies stems from the fact that "omigod I lived in houses JUST LIKE THAT in the seventies!!!!"

...the sort of day in which you spend all your writing time doing Avengers Swag Assemble with Berry Jello and then wonder why there's no writing done.

...the sort of day in which your daughter has the following conversation with you over the misassembled KFC order:

"Mom, are there any spoons for the mashed potatoes?"

"No--here's some Wheat Thins--use one as a scoop!"

"EEWWWW!! No, I'm gonna use a chicken bone because I've got CLASS!"

...the sort of day in which you are jerked from deep within the deep psychological morass of editing by your son, who asks, "Do you know why there are symbiotes?"

"Uh.... in which universe?"

"Marvel. Like Venom and Carnage and--wait. This is one of those times, right? When you were somewhere completely different and I asked you something totally random?"

"Yes."

"Sorry."

And then he leaves and you have no idea why there were Spiderman symbiotes in the Marvel universe.

...the sort of day in which you post on Social Media that you're going send boxes to Pennsylvania, join them in Delaware, and get driven to Virginia only to have your husband say, "You're not flying to Delaware."

And you realize you've just confused Baltimore with Delaware in front of a whole bunch of people and one of them is a city and one of them is a state and who cares, you're an idiot it's time for bed.


Tuesday, October 9, 2018

All Hail the Victory Poop!

Short blog tonight!

I finished String Boys--it was 122k, so not short-- and I will probably submit it tomorrow, but for tonight, I just stood up and wiggled, trying to get the feeling back in my ass.

Squish said, "So, are you going to take a nice victory poop?"

I was like, "I'm sorry?"

"Some people pop the cork on champagne. You either go for the Dulcolax or the Advil. So what's it gonna be? A nice victory poop, or a victory headache instead?"

"Chocolate! And Advil. But first I have to go to the bathroom."

I got back a minute later, and she was like, "Too short for a victory poop--must have been a victory pee! Go mom! Way to celebrate!"

So I posted on Twitter about dancing, crying, and eating chocolate in the middle of my living room.

That was the plan, I swear, but I think Squish was right.

It's gonna be Advil and Dulcolax, and knitting.

And some crying.

And a little bit of dancing.

And hopefully tomorrow, we can all hail the nice victory poop.

String Boys

Okay-- this book is almost done, and I'm going to be spinning down the rabbit hole trying to finish it and another project before I go to GRL.

Anyway--I love this book. It's sort of a book of my heart. And I haven't talked a lot about it because I love it so much, I don't want to jinx it. But if I don't finish tonight I'm going to finish tomorrow, and it's all I can think about.

So here's a pivotal moment, from the beginning, when Seth makes a rather startling new revelation about Kelly--


One day in November they were riding the bus together, late because Seth was practicing for the winter holiday performance, when Kelly gave a little yawn and slumped sideways against him. 
Seth wrapped his arm around Kelly’s shoulders and let him rest his head on Seth’s chest, and he had a small revelation.
Kelly’s face wasn’t round anymore.
It wasn’t rectangular like Matty’s, though. He still had dimples in the corners of his cheeks. He still had a little cleft in the center of his pointed chin. His eyes were round, with long, dark, thick lashes, and he had a tiny black mole on his cheek, back by his ear. 
And he smelled good.
Same soap Matty used—Seth could smell it off of Matty when they had gym class together the year before. Matty had taken gym again this year, because they had a special weight class and he took so many academic classes gym was a fun elective, and Seth knew the fresh smell of Matty’s soap.
But it wasn’t the same on Kelly.
On Kelly it seemed sweeter and sharper. Like cedar shavings. More real. 
His lips were a pink shade of the pale bronze of his skin.
And soft. And pillowy.
Seth stared at Kelly for the rest of the bus ride, trying to fit this new Kelly into his mind and wishing he didn’t have to.
This was Matty’s kid brother. Seth’s life would be… incomplete if he wasn’t there, all hours of the day, insinuating himself into Seth’s blood.
He couldn’t be seeing Kelly any different than he had since they were little kids, could he? Kelly. Who still talked the ears off a chipmunk if you let him. Who could prattle on about his English teacher and how she looked old but she was going to go out and start a revolution single handedly if it killed her, and about the young math teacher who had just had her third kid and looked like death all the time and how Kelly was going to ask his mom if she could make poor Mrs. Hennessy some hot chocolate for Christmas because that woman needed a mommy like nobody else and his mommy was the best.
Kelly.
Who sat in Seth’s living room and listened to Seth play and drew random pictures and smiled just at the sound of scales.
Seth must have made a sound or something—something different about his breathing, maybe—because Kelly’s eyes flew open, sparkling brown, lively, and definitely not stupid.
“What?” Kelly asked, wiping a self-conscious hand across his lips, looking for drool. “I totally got spit all over you, right?” He made to pull away and for a moment, Seth’s arms tightened.
No. Kelly was warm in his arms, and again, his smell. 
Kelly stopped for a moment, and a little red-bronze crescent appeared on his cheekbones. “Keeping me warm?” he whispered.
Seth gaped at him, unable to find a good reason for holding him so close. The moment suspended there, breathless, as the two of them stared at each other, until Kelly suddenly bounded up. “Hey, that’s our stop!”
“Sorry, kid,” the bus driver responded. “I’ll let you off on the next block.”
“Dammit,” Kelly muttered. “It’s raining outside.”
“I’m sorry,” Seth whispered, feeling stupid and caught completely unawares. “I’m sorry. I just… zoned out—”
Kelly met his eyes and shook his head then, reminding Seth so much of Kelly’s father that Seth’s tongue stopped babbling. “I know what happened,” Kelly told him, voice surprisingly mild.
And then he winked. 
Seth swallowed and stood, waiting for the bus to come to a stop.
They got out just as the rain kicked in harder, and the two of them hustled to the nearest shelter.  This stop used to open up into a small strip mall, little store fronts close together with alleyways between them and overhangs. The stores had all closed down, and the windows had been broken and boarded up and broken and boarded up and broken again. It wasn’t a safe place, no—they had to dodge needles and condoms and trash to get to the place between the buildings where the overhang offered shelter. The good news was, the back opened up to a small field, and if they could cross that field they’d be in the back porch of the first fourplex of their block, and they knew almost everyone in their set of fourplexes, and they’d be safe.
But for the moment, they’d walked to the back of the tiny alleyway and were looking out from the overhang, waiting for the rain to stop pounding like it was going to drill a hole in their heads.
“Sorry about the bus stop,” Seth muttered. “This place is pretty gross.”
Kelly nodded. “Yeah—Matty says Castor Durant hangs out in the old laundromat—but not when it’s raining. The roof’s no good. It floods.”
Seth grunted. They’d all kept an ear to the ground for Castor Durant—he was back in the high school Matty had been headed for before he got his grades up. The rumors about him were unsettling—he’d been suspended once for hitting a teacher with a balled up roll of tape. The only reason he hadn’t been expelled was that she hadn’t seen him do it, but everybody knew. 
And what he did to students unwary enough to fall in his sway was worse.
“So we’re lucky it’s raining?” Seth wrinkled his nose and Kelly laughed at him. They’d both grown, but where Seth probably had two or so more inches to go, Kelly had stopped about two inches from where Seth was now.  He was going to five-six, maybe five-seven, for the rest of his life, and his childhood plumpness had washed away, leaving him slender and tightly built. But the smallness never seemed to stop him. He always stared up at the world with that same laughing-eyed joy that he was giving Seth now.
Seth stared back at him, just as entranced as he had been on the bus, but now it was worse, somehow. 
Kelly was biting his lip, his eyes wise.
“You just saw it, didn’t you?” he asked, the dimples popping out.
“Saw what?” Seth asked, helpless. He wanted to touch Kelly’s cheeks, feel the little dent in skin.
“Saw my face and thought, ‘Oh, it’s Kelly,’ and not ‘Oh, it’s Matty’s little brother.’”
Seth shook his head. “You’ve always been Kelly,” he replied with confidence. And then, shaken. “What’s different?”
Kelly let out a soft chuff of air. They were standing so close it brushed Seth’s chin, and he moved his finger to his own face, trying to still the tingle.
“Last year, I went to dances,” he whispered. “Remember?”
Seth nodded. “Yeah. Your mom got mad because she couldn’t chaperone.”
“Thank God,” Kelly returned with feeling. “So I made out with two girls at those dances. Cause they were funny and they wanted to dance, and making out seemed like what you were supposed to do.”
Seth’s stomach went cold. “Awesome,” he muttered. He hadn’t made out with anyone. It was just… just… getting home and practicing his next piece always held such a fascination. Being there to walk Kelly home, to have their own quite after school club, just the two of them, seemed so much more important.
“No,” Kelly said, shaking his head sadly. “I mean, pleasant, but not awesome. And then, Jimmy—you remember him? We used to sit at lunch together because the grades couldn’t mix?”
“Jimmy Durreson?” Seth remembered. White kid, which wasn’t that common. Dark blond hair, a big dent in his chin. Green eyes. 
A wave of panic crashed into Seth, like it had just been waiting to douse him as he stood on the shore of oblivion.
Cute. 
Jimmy Durreson was damned cute.
Kelly nodded, the mischief in his smile. “Yeah. Jimmy frickin’ Durreson. We were at the dance together, and we got bored, and we went outside to use the bathrooms and didn’t come in right away. And it was spring and just us, and he stops me. Says, ‘Wanna make out?’ And I did. And it was awesome. And he wanted to do it again. Wanted to be boyfriends.” 
Oh God. “You have a boyfriend?” Panic in his voice.
Kelly patted his cheek gently. “You’re so pretty, but oh my God. There’s shit you don’t see. No, I don’t have a boyfriend. Not yet.”
Seth nodded, trying to still the surge of jealousy that had followed the panic. “But if you thought it was awesome—”
Kelly kissed him.
Oh dear heavens, Kelly kissedhim. 
His plush little mouth soft on Seth’s, that amazing smell Seth had just discovered filling his senses. His warmth blocking out the chill of the November rain.
Seth gasped, and Kelly pushed his tongue in, just enough to taste, and Seth closed his lips and sucked lightly. 
Kelly pulled away and smiled, biting his lip. 
“It wasn’t that awesome,” he whispered. “It was good. Jimmy Durreson is a good kisser. But he doesn’t taste like you.”

Sunday, October 7, 2018

Wow, what a weekend

Okay-- so, I may just make a list--

It's been THAT busy--and frankly, I need to spend a long time working this weekend off my body, because a lot of it was eating.

Oi.

Anyway--so...

Friday...

Squish decided to get her hair cut anyway--and as sad as I'll be to ship that envelope off to the Wigs for Kids place, I have to say, she looks lovely. And growing up looks lovely on her. I think we both can deal.

Also, we got to go out to lunch with my friend, Berry Jello whom I love so very much.

And then out to dinner for Bryar's birthday--everybody. Like, EVERYBODY got to go to Wongs. It was GREAT because my sister was there and Berry Jello and Chicken's friend Stevi and my parents.

It was wonderful.

*happy sated sigh*

Anyway...

So Saturday, Squish and Mate had soccer.

And THEN we drove from the soccer field to a small country faire in Rio Linds (Levee Oaks, for those who remember the Promise Rock books) There was a Johnny Cash tribute band called the Cash Prophets--and yeah. The lead singer really DID sound like Johnny Cash.

Today--after sleeping in with the dogs a little-- Mate and I got to take Damon Suede out to... well food. Mostly it was food. I guess because that's just what the weekend was. Steak and that place where you get the ice cream sandwich in the doughnut and churros made of fruity pebbles



He professed to be enchanted and I'm going to take his word for it.

I had a wonderful conversation and my friend made me feel like I did him a favor which was funny, because he saved Mate and I from an everyday average Sunday and made it extraordinary.

So yeah.

Whew.

Next?

I need to finish the goddamned book.

And then I need to work out a little. Because I'm probably ten pounds up after that weekend!

Thursday, October 4, 2018

Squish Postpones Puberty

 So, let's talk about hair for a minute.

When I was about two years old, my father's mother took me on a "fun day" while my mom got a break. My hair was bright red, right up until my twenties, and very curly, and when I was two, it was that adorable toddler ringlet stage--until grandma took me to the barber and got it shorn because she had hair issues.

When SHE had been a kid, her father MADE HER keep it long, right up until she turned eighteen, when she got it bobbed and thought that was THE BEST THING EVER.

She liked short hair so much that when her grown son--my uncle--came back from Korea and wanted to grow a beard while he lived at home and earned his MBA, she snuck into his room the night before Easter service and shaved a strip out of it so he could be clean shaven for the pastor at Easter.

So, when she had a granddaughter (me) she took every chance she could get to take me to the barber and chop my hair off to above my ears.

The last time was in sixth grade.

My stepmother was furious.

Dudes.

If there is one thing I have learned from being her pixie-cut surrogate it was to let girls wear their hair ANY MOTHERFUCKIN' WAY THEY WANT TO. It's THEIR GODDAMNED HAIR. Sure. Tell them that you love their hair when it's long--I mean, the pictures here are shit, but have you SEEN my daughters' hair when it's long? Both of them? It's stunning. Just... *flails* FRICKIN' GORGEOUS.

But Chicken got her hair bobbed to her ears and it's adorable. And Squish has just liked her hair in her standard braid for the past four or five years, and I'm good with that. Every morning she wakes me up and I braid it for her, and she goes off to school and I usually fall back into bed for an hour.

But Squish wanted her hair bobbed.

She was gonna get it cut.

Today was going to be her last hurrah--she told all her friends she was going to chop it off to her ears--she'd pulled up pictures of Molly Ringwald (one of three redheaded teenaged actresses that's not bullied or dead in a supernatural swimming pool, thank you very much), and she was going to get her hair bobbed and adorable and be cuter than a bug in a rug.

I was... well, I wasn't fine. But I was honest. "I love your hair, and I'm going to miss it. But it's YOUR HAIR. I want you to be happy with your hair, and I'm pretty sure once it's bobbed, I'll wonder why you didn't do it sooner because it will be super super cute."

She was game.

So tonight I took the above pictures, to prove to her friends that it was down to her bottom when it was washed and combed, and then I braided her hair.

She started to cry while I was braiding it. She was inconsolable.

"It's okay, sweetheart. You don't have to. Nothing's irrevocable until the first cut's made."

"Let's just not," she sobbed. "Let's just not."

So she's not.

And I'm frankly relieved.

Because she'll have time to look like Molly Ringwald, I hope. She'll have time to bob it and be waifish and pouty and worry about her boobs.

But right now she's my Squish for just a little longer, and gotta admit, I'm fine with that.

But I know it's around the corner.

Some day, she's going to be fine with it and I will no longer have to wake up to braid it down to her ass and then fall asleep.

But I was honest. It's her hair. It's her choice. And when it happens, she'll look super super cute.

But not today, puberty.

Not today.

Tuesday, October 2, 2018

Quick! Write something!

Okay-- so, having no luck on the adorable little anecdote front here--sublime thoughts all used up in my fiction. (Which I need to get back to!) So, I think what we're getting tonight is a random list of blog topics that I do not have time to get to tonight.

Oi, I suck at this...

*  Squish's enjoyment of the chicken in disco pants

*  Little old misogynist women in the pool and how I let them live

*  The drunken douchewaffle frat boy is more credible than the poised psychologist because why?

*  My weird visual aesthetic and why I no longer pick out my own cover art and why my cover artists are probably super super relieved

*  I've managed to botch plane tickets AND hotel reservations in the same week. Why are we letting me leave the house again?

* So, Amy, how long is your book NOW?

* Dogs with bed face, and why they still deserve treats

* What do you furry freaks have against knitting again?

* Thank you, Chicken, for walking with me in the morning and fondling my dogs when you get home

*  So missing Clayne Crawford on Lethal Weapon, but Sean William Scott is kind of flipping my switch, and why that's embarrassing af

* Thin yarn and big needles and why it's a cheat but one I'll come back to time and again

* The unexpected allure of middle aged men in purple

* Mate's hilarious birthday T-shirts

* The many ways Karen Rose, Rayna Vause and I have come up with to kill people with weapons disguised as otherwise harmless items from our knitting kit. No, stabbing people with standard knitting needles is NOT an option.

* The new guy on 9-1-1-- will he end up with Buckley, the new guy from last season? Because the show's already pretty watchable, but I would pay money to watch that

* The last holdout for the pet door--surprise! It's NOT one of the dogs!

* ZoomBoy, your cat... do something with it!

*  The new Magnum PI-- finally, more fast paced brain candy I can knit to!

* Mate's sweater and why it will take me until the next ice age

*  Oh SHIT--I have til WHEN to ship to GRL?

* No, no, Ms. Editor in Chief...I should have the book done by... uh... uh... THE END OF THIS WEEKEND SURE I'M NOT LYING AT ALL!

And on that note, I should probably get back to work...








Monday, October 1, 2018

October Kermit Flail--YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!

YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!!!!!!

So I admit it--it's been a little bit hectic around here. DSP weekend, prep for GRL (I'm being a lazy writer with very little initiative there--but I DO have to send some swag to Andrew Grey because he's picking me up from the airport and we're driving to Virginia. Believe me, it's even more complicated than it sounds!)  And yes, tonight (when I post) is my birthday, and it's funny how even if I wanted a quiet birthday, I'm not gonna get one, which is fine, because even when you're turning 15 in dyslexic years, you still like a little bit of happy to celebrate your entrance into the world. 

Anyway--I didn't pimp the flail this month, but that doesn't mean we don't have some AWESOME people to flail anyway!

Kim Fielding is coming out with a Dreamspun Desire--and it looks amazing. Kim is like I am-- we both like writing the angsty stuff and the happy stuff, and sometimes, when the mood hits us, the popcorn stuff too. I so want to read this--it looks like the perfect little bite of happy in paperback form!

E.J. Russell--whom I got to see at DSP weekend--and Kim as well (she of the Superbris inspiration ;-)-- is coming out with another quirky, hilarious paranormal romance. I think if I could categorize E.J.'s paranormal, I'd put her in the same place as Mary Janice Davison (and yes--I read Queen Betsy up to book 14 and pretty much slobbered all over poor Ms. Davison in Las Vegas one year. I even read about Fred the Mermaid. I'm a fan.) E.J. is funny, quirky, with unexpected warmth and a sweet pathos--this next one looks perfect, PNR light, and I urge you to check it out!

Elle Keaton's offering has a GORGEOUS cover (I'm a fan of drawn covers... sorry...) and a childhood friends to grownup lovers storyline--but one that might rip your heart out. So, you know-- a perfect autumn read when you're feeling a little melancholy and need to just let the feels happen. Another good pick this autumn-- sweet!

And speaking of sweet, Melanie Jayne--who writes het--is a sweet woman who is all for the highly satisfying happy ending. Like E.J., she's submitting a bit of paranormal this time out, and her story--about a pack alpha in love with his seer, looks funny and sweet and everything romance should be. Hey-- Halloween is around the corner--you can never have too many vampires and werewolves, right?

And at the end there, finally, is the companion novel to A Few Good Fish, called Hiding the Moon. Hiding the Moon features Lee Burton, who first appeared in Racing for the Sun, and then reappeared, superhero fashion, in Few Good Fish. This is how Burton met Ernie, and how the two of them--the cover ops genius and the rather freaky psychic ended up lovers--and then made a life together when they should never have met in the first place.

It also explains how they sort of ended up in the middle of Jackson and Ellery's mishegas, and how, without meaning to, Jackson and Ellery provided sort of a blueprint for how two guys who shouldn't even know each other can actually get along.

So it's a modest offering but a mighty one this month-- thanks to everybody who sent in their stuff. Happy reading, folks--and may your Samhain be happy vampires, solicitous werewolves, and gorgeous psychic moons. 


The Spy's Love Song

by Kim Fielding




For a singer and a spy, love might be mission impossible.

Jaxon Powers has what most only dream of. Fame. Fortune. Gold records and Grammy awards. Lavish hotel suites and an endless parade of eager bedmates. He’s adored all over the world—even in the remote, repressive country of Vasnytsia, where the tyrannical dictator is a big fan. The State Department hopes a performance might improve US relations with a dangerous enemy. But it means Jaxon’s going in alone… with one exception.

Secret agent Reid Stanfill has a covert agenda with global ramifications. Duty means everything to him, even when it involves protecting a jaded rock star. Jaxon and Reid’s mutual attraction is dangerous under Vasnytsia’s harsh laws—and matters get even worse when they’re trapped inside the borders. Romance will have to wait… assuming they make it out alive.

Buy at DSP

Buy at Amazon



Single White Incubus

by E.J. Russell 
Supernatural Selection #1



Does a bear shift in the woods?

Well, partially. That was what got grizzly shifter Ted Farnsworth into trouble. He wasn’t trying to break the Secrecy Pact. He just wants people to see the real him. So he signs up with the mate-matching service Supernatural Selection — which guarantees marriage to a perfect partner. Not only will Ted never be lonely again, but once his new beaver shifter husband arrives, they’ll build Ted’s dream wilderness retreat together. Win-win.

Quentin Bertrand-Harrington, scion of an incubus dynasty, has abstained from sex since nearly killing his last lover. When his family declares it’s time for him to marry, Quentin decides the only way not to murder his partner is to pick someone who’s already dead. Supernatural Selection finds him the ideal vampire, and Quentin signs the marriage agreement sight unseen.

But a mix-up at Supernatural Selection contracts Quentin with Ted. What’s Ted supposed to do with an art historian who knows more about salad forks than screwdrivers? And how can Quentin resist Ted’s mouthwatering life force? Yet as they work together to untangle their inconvenient union, they begin to wonder if their unexpected match might be perfect after all.



Buy at Publisher


His Best Man

by Elle Keaton


Rod Beton and Travis Walker have known each other almost all their lives, since the third grade when Rod was the new kid in town and Travis befriended him with Pok√©mon trading cards and a fruit snack. Apparently Rod’s easy. Since that day they've had each other's backs, like bread and butter, biscuits and gravy...and so on.


Along the way, Rod fell in love with Travis. He's been hoping for some kind of signal from Travis that he returns Rod's feelings. When Travis announces his surprise engagement—to a woman—over Thanksgiving dinner, Rod decides he's done waiting for the impossible. He packs his belongings and heads for Skagit and a new life. Even if Travis suddenly decided Rod was the man for him, would Rod be able to put aside his insecurities?

Travis always knew he was destined to take over the family business. As the only son, he’s expected to take the helm of the Walker farming operation, and he’s good at it. An engagement to a local girl he’s pals with seems like the perfect solution, gets his mom off his back and ensures the family line. Eventually. When his best friend abruptly leaves town, Travis’s eyes are finally opened to the difference between what is expected of him and what he could expect for himself.

His Best Man is a stand-alone in the Accidental Roots series, a friends-to-lovers mm romance with an HEA. Bisexual/gay


See Me

by Melanie Jayne

The Novus Pack Book 1


Throughout history, The Lady, Goddess of the Lycan world, has gifted werewolf packs with humans who carry her mark. Theodora Morrissey’s plans to return to college for her graduate degree are ended when she is awakened by an otherworldly voice on a rarely used airstrip in Nebraska. Injured and disoriented, she has no idea the discoloration on her back has marked her as a Seer, and that she is now a possession—and the prisoner—of the Novus Pack of Lycans.  

To the Novus pack, the word of their leader, their Laird, is the law. With compelling gray eyes and long dark hair, Raider Black rules his pack with intelligence and ruthlessness. To cement the security of his pack, Black has committed to mate another Packleader's daughter. But he’s finding it impossible to fight his attraction to the pack’s alluring new Seer, claiming her as his own.

Sweet, fearless, and unintentionally funny, Theo upends Black’s world and pushes the boundaries of his rules. How far is Raider willing to go, and what will he sacrifice, to save both his pack and the human Seer who’s found a way not only into his bed, but his heart?





Hiding the Moon

by Amy Lane
Fish Out Of Water: Book Four - A Fish Out of Water/Racing for the Sun Crossover
Can a hitman and a psychic negotiate a relationship while all hell breaks loose?

The world might not know who Lee Burton is, but it needs his black ops division and the work they do to keep it safe. Lee’s spent his life following orders—until he sees a kill jacket on Ernie Caulfield. Ernie isn’t a typical target, and something is very wrong with Burton’s chain of command.

Ernie’s life may seem adrift, but his every action helps to shelter his mind from the psychic storm raging within. When Lee Burton shows up to save him from assassins and club bunnies, Ernie seizes his hand and doesn’t look back. Burton is Ernie’s best bet in a tumultuous world, and after one day together, he’s pretty sure Lee knows Ernie is his destiny as well.

But when Burton refused Ernie’s contract, he kicked an entire piranha tank of bad guys, and Burton can’t rest until he takes down the rogue military unit that would try to kill a spacey psychic. Ernie’s in love with Burton and Burton’s confused as hell by Ernie—but Ernie’s not changing his mind and Burton can’t stay away. Psychics, assassins, and bad guys—throw them into the desert with a forbidden love affair and what could possibly go wrong?