Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Guest author - LE Franks!

77607a6d05fd0ad8976f1b.L._V358818427_SX200_This is so much fun! I get to find out all the new books my friends are writing this way. I’ll be covering Valentine’s Day stories soon, but this is a new one out from my pal LE Franks, and I wanted to give her an opportunity to tell you about herself and the book!


What inspired you to become a writer?


I was an early reader—my mom was an elementary school teacher and we always had books around. By the time I was in second grade, I was creating my own stories. By high school I had a strong voice—too strong in many respects. My AP English teacher would routinely give me A+++/D to average out my work to overcome the lack of proofreading. Who needs grammar when you have words?  I stopped writing my stories down once I left school—the stories just unwound themselves in my head, often going on for months. When my daughter turned ten I decided it was time to start again. Her birthday was rather a watershed time for both of us—spent on the Eiffel Tower in Paris. It’s wonderful how one’s perspective changes from up there.


6 Days was inspired by a bartender I met at The Hard Rock Café & Casino in Albuquerque, NM while attending the 2012 GRL Retreat. My main character’s profession, a mixologist, was inspired by him—one of the drinks my MC Nick makes is the one he made me in New Mexico.


If you could co-write with any author, living or dead, who would it be? 


I currently have a co-writer very much alive and I need to keep her happy until we finish our shifter series…and our hot marine saga…and, well let’s just say that Sara York can be kind of scary in that sweet southern way—she’ll look you in the eyes and smile the entire time she ripping body parts off you (one of my very most favorite things about her). So discretion being the better part of valor I’d be better off with one of the great dead storytellers…like Twain—I’d happily play ‘straight’ man to his genius just to watch him ply his craft.  But let’s be real. I think there is something distilling when you open yourself and your work to a co-writer. To be successful you have to be both open and defensive.  Sometimes the most valuable thing you get, regardless of outcome of your joint project, is a deeper understanding of your own work. Sara rocks, btw.


Where is your favorite place to write?


I just hijacked 25% of our master bedroom. I’ve got a corner walled off with two tall bookcases that I can see through so I’m still connected to the world but I have plenty of privacy when I put on my headphones. I have my desk, room for a futon and all my books and resource materials at my fingertips. Huge impact on my production with an inverse effect on my husband’s sleep—we may need to buy a bigger house because I have deadlines and two more jobs to keep happy. So I’ve been doing the 4:30am to midnight schedule with writing at both ends. Apparently they haven’t invented eyeshades dark enough or earplugs quiet enough to block the sound of my typing (and swearing).


Now for the fun questions!


What plans do your previous characters have for Valentine’s Day?


Pride of The Veld:


I think that Danie, Andrea, and Geo will be having the best time of it. They’ll have ditched South Africa by then and are now soaking up the sun in Andrea’s hometown in Italy. I suspect they’ll be celebrating by experimenting with the olive oil from the family’s groves and of course, since Geo has a sweet tooth, dark chocolate will be involved.


SNOW GLOBE:


Kris and Tyr are still working things out so you can expect that Tyr will be pulling out all the stops to woo Kris. Since neither are welcome back at the only diner in town they’ll try to drive to Minneapolis for dinner. If the weather is bad you can bet they’ll snuggle in front of a warm fire and with a copy of Dark Voyager (Kris’ favorite) and The Girl with The Dragon Tattoo (Tyr’s), and Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown (Bun’s) and have movie marathon


PRODIGAL WOLF – co written with Sara York:


The guys on Hilton Head Island universally avoid Valentine’s Day. After all, wolves don’t eat chocolate—right? But in secret, there may be some tiny expressions of love for each other—just don’t call it that. For example, you’ll find Ted in the kitchen baking everyone special Almond cookies I the shape of surf boards with pink sugar icing. Joey actually vacuumed the downstairs and repaired the hole he made in the fence around the back deck from the last time he drunk shifted. And Carlo actually dropped by the pack house voluntarily and spent the day catching up on the paperwork he’d been promising Angelo he’d do for months. And Angelo? He may have just made Carlo’s favorite dish, lasagna with homemade pasta from the old alpha’s secret recipe, and if they may have sat and eaten at the same table and shared wine from the same bottle, but no one could call it a date, could they?


If your characters were at Frisson, what drink would they order?


Kris is from Los Angeles. He loves his cocktails. He wants them sweet and flirty like he is after two drinks. Tyr’s happy just ordering Kris doubles.


Joey is just happy when someone hands him a drink—it’s hard to keep a shifter metabolism tipsy and it’s the state he has the most fun in. The other day he did have a whiskey ice cream float and it was pretty good—he’ll probably bug Nick until he gives him something white and creamy.


Underage Twinks Kevin & Grady, try to sneak in and order Coronas but FatBoy spots them right off—bouncing them to a kiddy table in the restaurant—while Nick serves them Shirley temples and chicken nuggets for their trouble.


Carlo is brooding in the corner. Simone the waitress is about smack him with her tray if he doesn’t start talking soon, telling her what he wants. Angelo knows how she feels, but orders for him anyway. Someone has to be in charge. They’ll have a couple bottles of Morreti.


Which one of your characters has the biggest sweet tooth?


Without a doubt it’s Bun, Tyr’s cousin—she’s still a child at heart and in mind, and her love of all things sugary is just more proof. Sit her down with a bag of gummy worms and she’ll be happy. For a minute. Then she’ll be bugging you to take her to see Kris.


If you could have any actors play the characters from 6 Days to Valentine, who would you choose?


Davis FatBoy Newman is pretty easy- Daniel Craig from his Tomb Raider days. Nick is more of a scruffy James Franco type. Sort of a clueless smart ass with a good heart.


482502_10202980968035615_487060924_nExcerpt:


THE DAY AFTER THE NIGHT BEFORE


The man on the floor was hard to ignore. If I got up now, I’d be stepping on him—not that I planned on leaving anytime soon. It wasn’t every day a man fell at your feet, much less one of the pretty ones. I wasn’t complaining—I could use the distraction. February with its faux-holiday was always my own personal hell, and this week, with the tidal wave of red and pink already threatening to swamp me, things kept getting worse. Maybe my luck was finally changing. I hoped so.


I squinted in the dim light of the bar to get a better look. His strawberry blond hair was disheveled, uncovered now that the ball cap he’d worn into the bar was resting against the chrome leg of my barstool. He stared up at me with eyes like some cartoon character from a Looney Tunes classic. Comically huge saucers of Arctic blue overwhelmed a nose too pert for a man; his rosy lips forming a perfect O of shock and surprise completed the picture as he lay stunned.


I’d watched the cap spin merrily away as he landed face-first onto the industrial-grade carpet, and winced—not in sympathy for the blow to his face, per se. No, it was due to the knowledge that FatBoy Newman had thrown up on that exact spot the previous day. I groaned as unwelcome memories of FatBoy and the events of last night flooded my mind, distracting me from the blond.


FatBoy was the newest addition to our little Frisson bar family. He’d been working the door for a couple of months, doing his job by lurking in the background and monitoring the crowds stirring each other up on weekends. One minute, he would be wallpaper, and the next, he’d be hanging out at my end of the bar, playing a nightly game of twenty questions.


Last night it was a string of questions like “Marie Claire or Vogue?” and “Barbeque Beans or Pork & Beans” or, more disturbing, “Brad Pitt or Yoda?”


Normally, I would have blown FatBoy off as I do every other asshole annoying me while I’m working; even the bouncers who like to lean on the bar and steal olives and fruit don’t linger if I’m there. FatBoy was different. He might look like a giant hick with the brains the size of a pea and a case of ’roid rage, but for all I knew, he had balls the size of an elephant. He’d need them. He’d been pressuring me for weeks to date his cousin, ever since he figured out that I’m gay, and I’d been equally absolute in my refusal. I don’t date, no matter how smoky blue your eyes are when you ask.


Not that I tried to hide my orientation—it’s just none of your damn business and not a topic of conversation I usually led with. At six two with brown hair, green eyes, and a naturally muscled build, bar patrons just assumed I was straight; keeping things pleasant and light with our mixed crowd of tourists and local party boys and girls kept the mood fun and—most importantly—the tips pouring in.


I also wasn’t such a megalomaniac that I thought everyone wanted to sleep with me—though working the bar, I got plenty of come-ons and come-hithers. Despite the occasional tumble with Juan, I hadn’t met anyone who inspired me to make the effort. If you want to know the truth, in my heart of hearts, I was a romantic; I dreamed of being swept off my feet by the “one”. In the meantime, I kept my head down, mixing my drinks and keeping my dreams and hands mostly to myself.


Despite the nightly grilling, FatBoy wouldn’t have known any different if he hadn’t walked in on my attempt to bareback Juan, our bar-back, during a very slow Saturday afternoon. I’m kidding about the barebacking. Juan is a good kid, and I’d never risk him or myself that way, and our relationship was more about convenience than romance, but FatBoy did walk into the cold room just seconds after a collision had wrapped me around Juan’s wiry body, forcing our lips together. Fortunately, our tongues took the brunt of the accident, ensuring no lasting damage to our libidos.


No, Mr. Newman can take the blame for that particular injury and the subsequent ‘failure to launch’ sequence that resulted from it. Instead of backing out like a normal person, he stayed—leaning against the frame of the door and watching us quietly until I pulled away from Juan.


“Why the fuck are you still here? Can’t you see we’re busy?” I snapped in frustration.


FatBoy didn’t respond beyond a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth—though he did lean slightly out of the way as Juan slipped past him, buttoning his jeans as he went. I reached down and readjusted my own cock, sighing deeply and glaring at him while I waited.


“Soooo, Nick. Boys, huh?” he drawled, settling back into his lean.


“Not boys, men. I’m not a pedophile, asshole.” As I stomped back to the bar, I was running through a list of unpleasant scenarios I could subject the prick to before I had to see him again. I was contemplating his fall into an active volcano when I felt his eyes on my back, the same silent force field I’d felt ever since he started working here.


I whirled around. “What? What! What? Did you need something, or did your calendar say it was ‘Be a dick at work day?’ ’Cuz I have to tell you, I’ve got a serious case of blue balls going on here, and unless you plan on dropping and giving me head right here and now, I’m pretty sure there is nothing you can say or do that I’m interested in.”


I might have caught a slight glimmer in his eyes when I said that—but really, who cared? It was going to be long days of skittish looks before Juan settled down enough to overcome his exaggerated fear of discovery and be willing to risk spending more time with me in the back. Something about losing his job and making his disabled mother homeless if he got caught screwing around at work—like that would ever happen…


“Blake was asking for you. I figured you’d rather I tracked you down myself instead of sending him into the icebox after you.” FatBoy smirked and pivoted, leaving me alone with the unhappy thought that I owed him one. With a silent apology to Juan’s fears, I wound my way back to the office to check on the latest from the boss.


So best efforts of ignoring the new bouncer aside, we were now out to the six five former linebacker from Tennessee—a Vol who’d majored in French poets of the seventeenth century. You haven’t lived until you’ve listened to FatBoy recite Molière in the original French, drunk off his ass, at four in the morning, in a thick southern drawl. Despite all of that, or maybe because of it, FatBoy was a bit of a prick—a trait I usually found entertaining when directed toward someone else, but after my fobbing off all the gentle nudges and hints about his cousin, he must have decided it was time to bring out the heavy artillery and press the issue once and for all.


In this case, he used his prickdom to force me into the drinking contest. He was, after all, he said, a gentleman of the South and therefore felt obliged to offer me a game of chance rather than the outright blackmail he originally had in mind—not that I believed he’d actually risk anyone’s job. But it did make me curious.


I still wasn’t sure what was so important about finding his cousin a date. I’d said no enough times that any other musclehead would have gotten a clue and dropped it long ago. FatBoy’s cousin must have been horribly disfigured or suffering from some social disease or on parole for unspeakable acts as a minor for him to be this relentlessly annoying.


More likely, his aunt was nagging him to death—afraid her baby was going to meet a big bad leather daddy now that he liked cock; I’d heard stories. I was just lucky to be the first gay he’d met. Not that I ever had that problem with my own family—I’m not sure they noticed the last time the door hit me on my way out.


All in all, I wasn’t surprised when he finally cornered me.


Terms of the bet were simple. We would each drink at the same time until we stopped. First one to pass out or throw up lost. Winner named his prize.


The reason I thought FatBoy might have been juicing—beyond the imposing build and lack of neck—was he’d overlooked the fact that I had total control over the very medium that would determine the outcome of the bet.


Buy 6 Days To Valentine at Wilde City Press


 



Guest author - LE Franks!

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Welcome Author Kay Berrisford

KB_BadSlave_coverlg


It’s a total privilege to be here blogging, especially as it’s my release day!! *grabs champagne and tops up glasses all round*.


As we’ve both got new books out around the same time, ZAM and I arranged a little blog swap, and threw a few little questions at each other, including… What do we do on a typical writing day? I’ve had a little peep at ZAM’s answer (she’s at my place on the 2nd February) and her day sounds more fun, not least because she’s in Southern California and I’m staring out into the icy gloom of Southampton, UK. (Hey, one of the cruise liners is just setting sail from the port as I write this. How do I know that? Well, because they’ve let off the foghorn and the WHOLE FLAT IS TREMBLING!)


So, my typical writing day. Well, I write about half the week (and at weekends) and do my day job the rest. So on my writing days, I’m pretty focused and routine-orientated. After popping out for groceries, it’s a feast of writing (or editing) doused in coffee, then after lunch, maybe a short run or a swim to jog my creative juices into action. Then the coffee is replaced by mint tea for the afternoon and evening, and off I go writing again. If I reach my target for the day early, then I get to read. Yay!!!


I don’t write much in the evening, as I’m more of a morning person. I tend to watch TV, maybe fiddle on the internet and do some promo or admin while my husband works on his writing (He’s an academic and proud author of 200 published papers and books! I’ll never catch up.) Our fave shows to have on? Hmmm, I still love NCIS best, but I’m quite looking forward to the new series of Game of Thrones right now (though I shut my eyes during the gory bits.) I love history and travel documentaries too—they give me tons of ideas for characters and settings. And Brian Cox (the BBC science presenter) is hot!


Talking of books, okay, the new release—Bad Slave, what the heck’s that about? Yup, it’s a BDSM fantasy story, but it’s a love story at heart and it’s got a BIG HEART. Jay and Alix’s romance was a blast to write, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it.


Bad Slave by Kay Berrisford. Published by Loose Id. Genre: LGBTTQ, BDSM & Fetish, Fantasy & Paranormal.


Blurb: When the king commands former war hero Captain Jay Ghair to find him the perfect royal sex slave, Jay’s quiet new life as a librarian is shattered. Jay discovers the boy he’s looking for in Alix, a lowly miner and wannabe court scientist, whom Jay can’t help but secretly adore. However, teaching the rebellious Alix to be a docile slave is difficult. Alix will behave for just one man, and it isn’t the king. It’s Jay.


Standing by while the king’s treatment of Alix becomes cruel is torturous for Jay. He longs to return to his library, yet he can’t bear to leave Alix, or his people, unprotected. To rescue Alix—and save the realm from the increasingly tyrannical king—Jay must confront the demons of his military past and take up the sword again. But his most important battle must be won through returning Alix’s love and learning to master this bad slave who submits only for him.


BAD SLAVE BUY IT NOW LINKS


ADULT EXCERPT from Bad Slave


Jay leaned forward so his brow nearly touched Alix’s. Hot breaths mingled. “Listen. I’ve been charged this night with finding the king an attractive young man. Somebody ready and willing to, uh, well—”


“He wants to know if you’ll suck the king’s cock,” interjected Gareh, coming to the rescue, albeit in a crude fashion.


Alix’s jaw dropped. “You want me to become one of the king’s sex slaves?”


It seemed everybody knew more about King Lyam’s lifestyle than Jay had. His stomach clenched.


“King Lyam’s a good-looking chap,” added Ned, who’d warmed to the task of procuring Alix, probably because time pressed on. The sun had sunk beneath the horizon, and evening dew beaded the grasses and cooled Jay’s blazing visage. “From what I’ve heard, his boys live a coddled existence.”


“The choice must be yours, Alix,” said Jay. “But Farmer Derren might find you and kill you if we let you go free, and we can’t take you back to the palace with no reason. You must face trial or elect to serve the king.”


Jay’s conscience stabbed like an ice pick, because there was little choice, really. He wished the lad, who remained motionless, would say something to put him out of his misery. Alix raked his fingers through his short brown hair. Then, sudden as the first morning cry of a cockerel, he laughed. And sweet mother of all the starlords, it was the dirtiest and most charming sound that’d ever blessed Jay’s ears. Alix’s smile was delicious too, though he couldn’t disguise his trembling or the gleam of fear in his eyes. Jay suspected this unforeseen mirth to be an act, so it didn’t make him feel any better.


Nevertheless, Lyam had asked for a man with some spirit. Alix indeed possessed that.


“All right, I’ll do it.” Alix dabbed away the last of the blood. “Um, should I thank you? I mean, yes, I really should. You just saved me from—”


“No. That’s not necessary at all.” Any decent man would’ve done the same thing.


Without requesting the rescued party become a sex slave.


Jay rose, then took Alix’s arm and helped him up. Once upright, Alix hissed in pain, then balanced on one leg. Jay clamped the lad’s shoulders. “Are you badly injured?”


“Just a minor sprain.” Alix mustered a faltering grin. “Doesn’t hurt.”


“We’ll tend to your wounds when we get back.”


It seemed the least he could do. Then again, he had saved Alix’s life. Serving at court, even as one of the king’s pets, could well be preferable to laboring in the mines, let alone languishing in prison or facing the chop.


Not quite reassured, Jay scooped an arm about Alix and supported the lad in hopping over to the horse. He helped Alix up—involuntarily confirming that Alix had a firm and rounded butt and sinewy thighs—then sighed and nodded to Gareh and Ned.


“Lead on back to the palace.”


~*~


Want more? Read chapter one at Loose Id


Buy Kay’s books at Amazon   Loose Id   All Romance Ebooks 


Kay on Facebook


Twitter: @kayberrisford


Website: http://kayberrisford.com


GIVEAWAY TIME!!! If you’d like to win your choice of two of my Greenwood novels Bound for the Forest or Bound to the Beast) in ebook or paperback plus a $10 GC 


a Rafflecopter giveaway


 



Welcome Author Kay Berrisford

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Sunday Brunch Blog - 1/26/13

saupload_mad_20hatter_20tea_20partyHappy Sunday everyone! I woke up to a gray cloudy day today. Three boys home but running around. They’re currently in a robotics club that has a competition coming up in Vegas. That’s right, Vegas, baby. Nothing like letting smart kids loose in a town full of possible moral pitfalls. pffft. Guess who’s going as a chaperone.


They could do worse.


So, Last week we talked about whether we felt we were optimists, pessimists or just realists. So many good comments on that. You are great thinkers out there, and I loved reading your replies. Thanks! Last weeks winner (random pick, of course) is:


Andrea! *throws confetti*


This week’s question:


What’s the worst prank you ever pulled? (Of course this could also, given that we discussed glass half-empty/glass half-full last week, be called the BEST prank you ever pulled.)


I’ll tell you what, only ONE author was brave enough to sign up to share her prank with me: LE Franks is here to tell us about it.


My thoughts on pranks is I’m not really good at them. I don’t like making people feel uncomfortable. I never have. I’ve done things to surprise people. I let my daughter go to sleep on the eve of her fourth birthday in her toddler bed and then took her out and put her in a “big girl” bed, complete with dreamy bedding and nice pillows in its place so when she woke up her room was different (I pictured it like the Shirley Temple Version of A Little Princess, although the transformation was nothing so spectacular.)


Last week, I let my twin son Zack tell his brother Max they only had one iPhone left so we got him a clamshell phone they had leftover from the nineties with big button technology, but then that was Zack’s practical joke, not mine. I gave the game away as soon as I saw him, because he looked so resigned. I can’t stand to see people off-kilter. As a kid, I couldn’t watch shows the Beverly Hillbillies, because I don’t like to see people made the butt of jokes. I rarely watch reality television at all.


My husband is great at pranks and surprises, although he knows better than to pull them on me. He once bought me a car and told me the garage door remote didn’t work, knowing it’s snatch it out of his hand and try it anyway cause I’m that person who pushes “walk” even if you already did, who test things, opens doors, and generally has to see with my own eyes.


That was a GREAT prank/surprise and one I’ll remember forever.


482502_10202980968035615_487060924_nOne Man’s (er—woman’s) Prank is Another Man’s Worst Nightmare, or Our Road to Tying the Knot:


It’s really not my fault. I think it speaks more to his psychology than to my impulse to poke. Honestly.


It’s not like he secretly thought I was psycho…


Wait…there was that time I visited him in Princeton NJ about a month after we started dating—he was on a long-term job site, I was a travel slut looking for a good time and a 45 minute ride to the Big Apple…a match made in heaven. So what if he’d been staying in a tiny room no bigger than a closet filled with three weeks of stinky man-clothes?


He may have been a little disconcerted when at midnight (9 pm our time, for frack’s sake!) he awoke and found me leaning against a wall staring at him. Did I mention it was only 9pm on the west coast and the room was the size of my thigh? God’s great gift to mankind – the iPhone – had not been invented yet. And there was nowhere to sit. It was either lean against a wall or wake him up every 5 minutes moving around on the double bed.


He may have also jumped to conclusions that helped reinforce this idea of my shaky credentials the next day when he walked into his hotel room and found a naked man in the shower. (Stop it! I know what you’re thinking…I said travel slut, not slut-slut. Sheesh).


It’s really not my fault that he had a moment of crazy when he convinced himself that I’d traveled 2900 miles to steal his dirty clothes, especially since he’d stopped by the front desk to arrange a larger room for us before leaving for the day. So sue me. I did what any reasonably bored and efficient person would do…I got the key and moved us.


While that would have been a KILLER prank—it doesn’t count as one—but it may very well explain why when I did eventually prank him he thought I was serious. Deadly serious. Honestly, so much drama and yet, he still married me. [Editor's note from ZAM: Knowing you -- and adoring you as I do -- this does not surprise me.]


Tiny more bit of backstory: I actually have really excellent taste. No, don’t scoff—don’t confuse my jean’s and t-shirts for fashion ignorance, because hey, California. It doesn’t mean that I can’t slide my hand across a nice white cotton broadcloth covered chest and not know the thread count and whether you’re rocking the perm-a-press. And there really is nothing worse that a lousy polyester or ugly print necktie. But I digress.


We’d been living together for a few weeks at this point—about six months after the whole unfortunate “you stole my dirty underwear” episode on the East Coast—still not the best of arrangements, but I’d moved in with him and his roommate who was her own brand of crazy-with-cat. She had weird rules, and we tiptoed around a lot. It just added to the atmosphere.


Moving in with him the first thing I noticed was a large mirror leaning against a corner, covered in neckties. Horrible, horrible, ghastly, ugly, polyester, and knitted cotton, and old, (not cool-old either. Not hot retro “my fashion is editorial”. Nope. The really, really unredeemably bad kind.) Ties that made my eyes bleed and teeth ache just to look at them…and he had a lot of them. No joke—dozens upon dozens, even ties from the eighties with their mauve and peach color schemes…soft blurred images with cow skulls on them. Nightmares. [Editor's note from ZAM: You didn't accidentally marry my husband did you? 'Cause he has those too, and even older ones from his dad. 70 years of bad ties]


The Prank. I may have threatened the ties with extermination a time or two. He may have been in genuine fear for their lives…but still, I think the day that he came home from work, saw my note telling him I that I’d offed them (I believed I used words like “cut up” and “never see them again”) he might have paused a second to look around the room and notice the trail of dropped neck ties leading to the downstairs hall closet where they remained unharmed. Nope. Did not see a-one. (Editorial note from LE Franks: as I write this, I realize he had to have stepped over several of these ties on his way up the stairs, which is an entirely different post about why men’s clothes become invisible the second they touch the ground.)


The Result. Total Freak Out.


I almost wet myself laughing. Honestly. Like anyone would go to all that trouble to cut them up with scissors when there’s a perfectly good trashcan outside. (Oddly he didn’t consider that argument to be an improvement.)


Yeah, he eventually married me anyway—but I did use it as a teaching moment to point out how hideously awful his taste was (why let all those props go to waste) and in the end, he let me dispose of the worst offenders with the following caveat: for every tie he coughed up, I’d replace them with two very cool ones. And I did—I even got him nifty grown up tie hangers—Ties as colorful and cool as he is. Now, I hardly ever see him dressing like an 85 year old man anymore, because scissors. – Author LE Franks


Purchase 6 Days to Valentine on January 29th from Wilde City Press. 


 



Sunday Brunch Blog - 1/26/13

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Oh, the places I go...

cropped-ZAMIam-rainbow1.pngAs everyone knows I’m on a blog tour for My Heartache Cowboy. I just wanted to give a shout out to a few of the authors who are hosing me this week. They are so kind to give up their valuable Internet real estate for me, and I have really enjoyed answering their questions, writing blog posts, and generally hanging around with them.


These are some solid friends, folks, they’re the ones who cheer me on when I succeed, and laugh with me when I fail…or cry. They’re also solid writers in their own right. So far, I’ve visited with Rhys Ford, Karenna Colecroft, Tara Lain, and LE Franks! Below you’ll find the links, and while you’re there, check out my author pals and the books they write. Show them a little love by following their blogs, signing up for their newsletters and “like”ing their pages. I guarantee you will be glad you did!


These authors have already hosted me:


Rhys Ford Dirt and Sin With A Side Of Coffee


Karenna Colecroft Open Your Heart


Tara Lain Read the Beautiful Boys of Romance


LE Franks The Books, The Blogs, and The Men


I’ll let you know about new blog visits as they appear.




My Heartache Cowboy

(Cowboy Series, Bk #2)

By Z.A. Maxfield


Blurb:

Can love conquer all?


Jimmy Rafferty and Eddie Molina go way back at the J-Bar ranch. They’ve worked together, bunked together, camped out, and drank together. So how has Jimmy failed to notice that Eddie is gay? Eddie has not failed to notice that his friend has a serious drinking problem, and he’s determined to help Jimmy kick the booze cold turkey.


Taking him up to a snowbound cabin to detox, Eddie is confronted with Jimmy’s fierce denial. But the pains of withdrawal are nothing for Jimmy compared with the heartache of denying his true feelings and his deep longing…for the one man who cares for him more than anyone else on earth.





Available for purchase at





 





Excerpt




When I woke, I was alone and the truck wasn’t moving.


Who the hell did Eddie think he was, leaving me asleep by myself in a truck outside in the freezing cold? My pa and my older brother, Jonas, used to do that. We’d be on the road, and when I fell asleep, they’d leave me in the parking lot of some dive bar or motel—just leave me asleep outside in the dark. I’d wake up with no clue where I was, no idea if they were coming back or if I should go in and try to find them.


My first useful thought was to look for the keys, because I hadn’t forgotten what Eddie said. I hadn’t forgotten the plans him and boss Malloy made for me behind my back. It would serve them right if I up and hightailed it back to the J-Bar with Eddie’s truck and no Eddie.


No keys.


Not like that was going to stop me. Where the hell did Eddie get the idea I’d go quietly? I slid over and tore the wiring out from under the dash. Found what I needed without hardly even looking.


I hated waking up alone like that. Unwanted. Abandoned.


One twist. Two. Touch the wires together and the engine should . . .


Fuck.


Nothing.


What the hell? I checked I got the proper color-coated strands and tried again. I was frowning down at the mess of tangled wire when someone tapped on the window behind me.


I glanced up and saw Eddie frowning down, no doubt pissed at what I’d done to his truck. Serves you right for leaving me like that, you prick.


“You need a working engine for that,” he told me as he opened the door. “One that has a battery.”


“Fuck you.” I spilled out of the car ready for a fistfight.


“What?” Eddie jumped back.


“Why did you have to leave me like that? What did I ever do to you?”


Eddie shook his head at me. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. You were sound asleep and I thought maybe you needed it.”


I took a swing at him. “I hate waking up alone in a car like that.”


Ed plucked my fist from the air and peered at me like he was trying to see through my skin. “I didn’t know.”


“I hate that. Left behind in the car like a damn dog. Like a fucking duffel bag. You can’t be bothered to even wake me up and take me in out of the fucking snow.”


Now Eddie frowned like he was thinking about it. Now, after the fact. “I’m sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t think how you’d feel waking up alone like that. I won’t do it again.”


“Would have served you right if I took your truck and left you up here to walk back to civilization, wherever the hell that is. Would have served you right if I’d died out here.”


“All right, all right. Simmer down now.”


I glared at him. “Fuck you.”


“It’s pretty civilized inside. How about you come in with me.”


“How about you suck my fucking—”


“That’s enough.” He turned and headed toward the cabin’s welcoming front door. “I almost didn’t bother to disable the damn thing, but I thought on the off chance you knew what you were doing and could—”


“Which I did,” I pointed out.


“Come inside.” He jerked his chin toward the cabin like I was a dog and I was supposed to just follow along and yip around at his heels.


I debated making a run at him, but frankly, Eddie was a tough buzzard. He wasn’t too much older than me, just forty-two compared to my thirty-eight. But I was a lover, not a fighter, or at least that’s how I thought of myself. Back there on the road, Eddie had proved he wasn’t above using violence to get his way in this, so I went along.


You’re going to have to sleep sometime.


Eddie led me into a rustic-looking cabin that seemed awful nice for the middle of nowhere. There was a place for us to hang our hats just inside the door, over a table with a passel of pictures on it. There were old time black-and-whites of families and framed pictures of a good-looking man, a pretty woman, and some kids. There were some of the kids alone, and holy cow, there were probably a dozen pictures of Ed. He looked so young in a couple of them, they must have been from before we met.


One of Ed and the unknown man caught my eye. Something about the difference in height, the casual way they leaned together, the way they looked at each other, made me think this was Ed’s friend from the road, Don. Even though they’d both aged some since it was taken, I was almost sure of it.


No knobby hands, no weathered angel, this Don was good looking, without a doubt. He was lanky and chiseled. He had an intelligent face and a smile that drew the eye. He seemed sure of himself and charming. Whatever I’d seen in the darkness outside the car had to be a trick of the light.


Ed looked so young and earnest next to him it took my breath away. Brawny and tan, he wore a yoked Western shirt with the sleeves rolled up past well-muscled forearms and he eyed Don like he would follow him anywhere.


And that Don, he looked like he could appreciate a guy like Ed, as well.


Hadn’t I seen firsthand how much he did appreciate him?




About the Author



Z. A. Maxfield started writing in 2007 on a dare from her children and never looked back. Pathologically disorganized, and perennially optimistic, she writes as much as she can, reads as much as she dares, and enjoys her time with family and friends. Three things reverberate throughout all her stories: Unconditional love, redemption, and the belief that miracles happen when we least expect them.If anyone asks her how a wife and mother of four can find time for a writing career, she’ll answer, “It’s amazing what you can accomplish if you give up housework.”




Tuesday, January 21, 2014

It's Release Day!

My Heartache Cowboy Banner


Blog Tour Homepage




My Heartache Cowboy

(Cowboy Series, Bk #2)

By Z.A. Maxfield


Blurb:

Can love conquer all?


Jimmy Rafferty and Eddie Molina go way back at the J-Bar ranch. They’ve worked together, bunked together, camped out, and drank together. So how has Jimmy failed to notice that Eddie is gay? Eddie has not failed to notice that his friend has a serious drinking problem, and he’s determined to help Jimmy kick the booze cold turkey.


Taking him up to a snowbound cabin to detox, Eddie is confronted with Jimmy’s fierce denial. But the pains of withdrawal are nothing for Jimmy compared with the heartache of denying his true feelings and his deep longing…for the one man who cares for him more than anyone else on earth.





Available for purchase at





 





Excerpt




When I woke, I was alone and the truck wasn’t moving.


Who the hell did Eddie think he was, leaving me asleep by myself in a truck outside in the freezing cold? My pa and my older brother, Jonas, used to do that. We’d be on the road, and when I fell asleep, they’d leave me in the parking lot of some dive bar or motel—just leave me asleep outside in the dark. I’d wake up with no clue where I was, no idea if they were coming back or if I should go in and try to find them.


My first useful thought was to look for the keys, because I hadn’t forgotten what Eddie said. I hadn’t forgotten the plans him and boss Malloy made for me behind my back. It would serve them right if I up and hightailed it back to the J-Bar with Eddie’s truck and no Eddie.


No keys.


Not like that was going to stop me. Where the hell did Eddie get the idea I’d go quietly? I slid over and tore the wiring out from under the dash. Found what I needed without hardly even looking.


I hated waking up alone like that. Unwanted. Abandoned.


One twist. Two. Touch the wires together and the engine should . . .


Fuck.


Nothing.


What the hell? I checked I got the proper color-coated strands and tried again. I was frowning down at the mess of tangled wire when someone tapped on the window behind me.


I glanced up and saw Eddie frowning down, no doubt pissed at what I’d done to his truck. Serves you right for leaving me like that, you prick.


“You need a working engine for that,” he told me as he opened the door. “One that has a battery.”


“Fuck you.” I spilled out of the car ready for a fistfight.


“What?” Eddie jumped back.


“Why did you have to leave me like that? What did I ever do to you?”


Eddie shook his head at me. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. You were sound asleep and I thought maybe you needed it.”


I took a swing at him. “I hate waking up alone in a car like that.”


Ed plucked my fist from the air and peered at me like he was trying to see through my skin. “I didn’t know.”


“I hate that. Left behind in the car like a damn dog. Like a fucking duffel bag. You can’t be bothered to even wake me up and take me in out of the fucking snow.”


Now Eddie frowned like he was thinking about it. Now, after the fact. “I’m sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t think how you’d feel waking up alone like that. I won’t do it again.”


“Would have served you right if I took your truck and left you up here to walk back to civilization, wherever the hell that is. Would have served you right if I’d died out here.”


“All right, all right. Simmer down now.”


I glared at him. “Fuck you.”


“It’s pretty civilized inside. How about you come in with me.”


“How about you suck my fucking—”


“That’s enough.” He turned and headed toward the cabin’s welcoming front door. “I almost didn’t bother to disable the damn thing, but I thought on the off chance you knew what you were doing and could—”


“Which I did,” I pointed out.


“Come inside.” He jerked his chin toward the cabin like I was a dog and I was supposed to just follow along and yip around at his heels.


I debated making a run at him, but frankly, Eddie was a tough buzzard. He wasn’t too much older than me, just forty-two compared to my thirty-eight. But I was a lover, not a fighter, or at least that’s how I thought of myself. Back there on the road, Eddie had proved he wasn’t above using violence to get his way in this, so I went along.


You’re going to have to sleep sometime.


Eddie led me into a rustic-looking cabin that seemed awful nice for the middle of nowhere. There was a place for us to hang our hats just inside the door, over a table with a passel of pictures on it. There were old time black-and-whites of families and framed pictures of a good-looking man, a pretty woman, and some kids. There were some of the kids alone, and holy cow, there were probably a dozen pictures of Ed. He looked so young in a couple of them, they must have been from before we met.


One of Ed and the unknown man caught my eye. Something about the difference in height, the casual way they leaned together, the way they looked at each other, made me think this was Ed’s friend from the road, Don. Even though they’d both aged some since it was taken, I was almost sure of it.


No knobby hands, no weathered angel, this Don was good looking, without a doubt. He was lanky and chiseled. He had an intelligent face and a smile that drew the eye. He seemed sure of himself and charming. Whatever I’d seen in the darkness outside the car had to be a trick of the light.


Ed looked so young and earnest next to him it took my breath away. Brawny and tan, he wore a yoked Western shirt with the sleeves rolled up past well-muscled forearms and he eyed Don like he would follow him anywhere.


And that Don, he looked like he could appreciate a guy like Ed, as well.


Hadn’t I seen firsthand how much he did appreciate him?




About the Author



Z. A. Maxfield started writing in 2007 on a dare from her children and never looked back. Pathologically disorganized, and perennially optimistic, she writes as much as she can, reads as much as she dares, and enjoys her time with family and friends. Three things reverberate throughout all her stories: Unconditional love, redemption, and the belief that miracles happen when we least expect them.If anyone asks her how a wife and mother of four can find time for a writing career, she’ll answer, “It’s amazing what you can accomplish if you give up housework.”




Sunday, January 19, 2014

Sunday Brunch Blog - 1/19/2014

A Grungy French Brunch And Breakfast Sign Outside A RestaurantLast week there were TWO brunch options, the first seating featured Amy Lane, Cherie Noel, and Christopher Koehler, who discussed their New Years’ Resolutions.  The winner for that was Trix! Thanks for commenting, Trix, I know it was a bit confusing to have two different brunches last week, and I should be back on track here for the forthcoming few weeks anyway.


The second seating of Sunday Brunch last week featured LE Franks, KA Mitchell, and James Buchanan. Their question was about favorite winter pastimes and their winner was Jeff!


This week’s question is about state of mind. I’m really hoping you comment here, I’d like to get a lively discussion going:


Is your glass half-full, half-empty, or poisoned? 


Do you know people who have it good and think it’s bad? Do you know people who have it bad, but just keep on chugging like the little engine that could? Which type are you? Were you born that way? Or did circumstances make you that way? What do you think? Tell me in the comments below!


And for a change, I’m going to be one of the authors who answers my question…


My Heartache CowboyI came up with this question because I have always felt like the sole optimist in my family.


My parents had tough times growing up — my dad experienced prejudice and war in Europe and my mother lived through the Great Depression. Yet I know lots of people who have gone through the same time period and emerged hopeful and confident.


I know people who suffered far greater losses, both physically and emotionally than my parents did, yet still manage to expect a favorable outcome from everyday situations. I’ve often wondered whether there is a genetic component to it, or…well… I wonder about those things because I’m adopted and the most optimistic person I know — my husband — comes from a line of optimists going back to the plague years. They’ve been through all kinds of hell, and they still have a positive outlook. My husband is the kind of guy who, if he fell out of a plane, would text me pictures all the way down with the caption, “Look, isn’t this cool?”


 


What triggers one person to look on the bright side and another to get lost in the shadows? I don’t know. I only know when I’m recapping the year of a bad accident, or a the year our house burned, I am usually mitigating it, saying, “Well… of course we were so lucky. We all got out okay. We had insurance. We had friends who helped us out. We had fun, even. It was an adventure.” We were lucky. I always feel lucky, I always feel blessed, even when bad things happen. I got to be there when my father died, I got to help lay my mother to rest. Those things were possible and I felt lucky.


To an optimist, this means I’m rolling with the punches right? To my mother, it just meant NOTHING REALLY BAD HAS HAPPENED YET. There will be another shoe, and when it drops, you will no longer be able to feel lucky.


Which always sounds like a curse to me. “Someday all that happy you’re storing up right now will not be enough, and then you will understand how I feel.”


I’m not charmed. I’ve been in car accidents. We lost both my parents and parents-in-law. My house burned and I lost most of my most treasured sentimental possessions. Our finances suffered severe setbacks during the recession we’ve never recovered from. I expect, in time, to lose my health and/or my beloved husband to the diseases of old age and eventually I expect to die. I don’t expect it will be easy or painless. Those things aren’t what ifs, they’re given.


And of course I fear every mother’s nightmare — the loss of my children. You can never be prepared for that. The loss of one of my kids would probably put me in the ground early, and yet, it only makes me want to love them even more right this very second. It makes me want to wake them up and ask them every question I have, to find every little thing about them so I can commit it to memory for later. It makes me want to really wallow in what I have right now, and not look ahead to how it might all be taken away.


So I’m not really sure. Am I an optimist? A pessimist? I realist? Am I fooling myself that I have a pretty good attitude and I can go with the flow, whatever happens? I really don’t know. I hope so, but I really don’t know. I guess I’ll say what I always say… Stay Tuned…


Pre-Order My Heartache Cowboy at Amazon


~*~


SP_MoreThanJustAGoodBook_coverMd


Half full! I want to keep adding to it, adding to the joy of living. I’ve got so much more I want to learn, to experience, to say, to share, to write. I want to fill that cup with everything I possibly can. And I want to share all those things with others, and then keep on filling up that cup again and again.


 


Writing (and reading) fiction is a big part of that for me. With each new story, I get to experience all that passion and suspense and love that goes into those characters’ lives, and it’s such a rush to take that journey with them. I’m also very fortunate that, as a writer, I get to share all that with others, and then do it all over again and again.


 


Thanks so much ZAM for including me in your Sunday Brunch blog series. –Sloan Parker


 


Purchase MORE THAN JUST A GOOD BOOK: Amazon   B&N   All Romance eBooks.


 



Sunday Brunch Blog - 1/19/2014

Thursday, January 16, 2014

LR Cafe 2013 - nominee

This Just In…


Eddie: Grime Doesn’t Pay is an LR Cafe nominee for Best Contemporary Book


Masquerade mask, beads and feather in sepia


ZM_GrimeDoesn'tPay-Eddie_coverinBestsellerIcon100X100Eddie and Andrew have dynamite chemistry. But Eddie is profoundly dyslexic, and Andrew lives to read. Andrew is pathologically disorganized, and Eddie likes things neat and clutter-free.


Andrew is desperately ashamed of his hoarder father, and Eddie is embarrassed by his lack of education — secrets that could pull them apart even as a friend’s tragedy brings them together.


When Andrew’s father’s condition deteriorates and he nearly dies because of his compulsion, Eddie and Andrew must learn compassion begins with loving oneself.


Read More, HERE


 


 


 


 


 



LR Cafe 2013 - nominee

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

This Just In...

OH, my God. Asymmetrical FRING my A** ZAM AT RT 2013


I made the blog my landing page. Yes! This is the same website, but rather than have that same old boring landing page, I decided to do my posts up front here. You can still find all the information you need about me and links to freebies and all that other good stuff under the About Me page.


If you want to get to the books? Click on books.


Berkley is getting ready to release My Heartache Cowboy on the 21st of January. I’m very excited about this one, these guys are really dear to my heart. I’ll be embarking on a massive blog tour, so forewarned is forearmed, yeah? I plan to be everywhere.


Tune me out if you get sick of me, but I’ll be stopping at people’s blogs with interviews, getting shout-outs from fellow authors, and giving away prizes.


My Heartache Cowboy Banner


Click to Pre-order My Heartache Cowboy


Last but not least, if you haven’t signed up for my newsletter, now’s the time. I’ll be conducting a SUPER-SEEKRIT contest for Newsletter members only. Would you like a chance to be a part of J-Bar history? If you loved Crispin and Malloy, you’re going to want to be in on this!


Join Club ZAM Now!


 



This Just In...

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Teaser Tuesday with author DC Juris

iStock_000027538366XSmall


Today my guest is DC Juris, an online pal I had the good fortune to finally meet at one of the GRLs!


Who is DC Juris? In a few words, he’s a Star Trek loving, cupcake making, football watching, rubber duck collecting, drag show attending, full of fabulous with a capital F kinda guy.


In a few more words, he’s a Southern transplant who has retained none of his accent but all of his charm, an out and proud transgender bisexual Geek living in Upstate New York with his husband, three dogs, three cats, two Tribbles, two Ceti Alpha V eels, and a menagerie of Halloween props just creepy enough to keep people guessing about his sanity.


He’s still hopelessly single when it comes to the woman in his life, and he’ll gladly entertain offers or applications for the position! In the rare event that His Geekiness is not writing, DC can be found watching and rewatching Star Trek (TOS), surfing the internet for porn research, stalking things he “needs” on Ebay, reading, taking pictures of the world around him, or playing games on his iPhone, which he admits to being blissfully in love with. You can keep up with him at www.facebook.com/dcjuris, or www.dcjuris.com, or his blog at http://dcjuris.blogspot.com.


Here’s his snippet. Be sure to send guesses about which DC Juris book we have here to me at zamaxfield (at) zamaxfield (dot) com (you know the drill) and put Teaser Tuesday in the subject line. I will randomly select one winner who will get to choose an ebook from Daniel’s backlist!


Last week’s random Teaser Tuesday winner, from #1 and #2, you lucky devil, TRIX! I’ll send your email to Kate and Carolina, thanks for playing along!


*****


“Um, guys?” **** called out. “There’s people coming.”


******* tore his gaze away, though he didn’t move, and his fingers dug into my cheek a little. “Just what we need. Fuck me,” he groaned.


I’d love to.


He stood up and grabbed my hand to haul me up to my feet as well.


“Hey there!” one of the people shouted.


******* chuckled. “Inconspicuous lot, aren’t they?” He glanced at me again. “You sure you’re okay?”


“Yeah. Definitely.” I nodded. I didn’t know if I was or not, but if ******* wanted me to be okay, I’d be okay. Hell, I’d have tried to be anything for him right then.


“Stay behind me,” he instructed as he walked up to them.


Ten men and three women made up the group, and they looked to range in age anywhere from teenagers to a woman in her fifties, maybe. I’d never been a really good judge of age. They were grungy and smelly—proof they’d been on the streets for a while.


“Hi there!” one of the men stuck out his hand to *******. “I’m ***.”


******* looked him up and down through narrow eyes, no doubt wondering, as was I, why he was being so friendly. “I’m *******.”


“You three out here by yourselves?” *** asked.


If his name really was ***. My stomach knotted at the way several of the men were ogling ****—as though he was a tasty snack. I edged over closer to him and listened as ******* and The Man Who Would Be Called *** exchanged pleasantries and small talk.


“We’re camped out a couple miles west of here. It’s a real nice spot,” *** revealed. “You’re welcome to come back with us.”


******* shook his head. “We’re headed east.”


“Toward Copper Valley? Yeah, everyone we’ve met has been headed there. It’s not too far out of your way, though. And your boy there looks like he could use some medical attention.” He pointed at me.


I stood up straighter. “I’m fine.” I wasn’t, though. It had taken all my strength to walk over to **** without showing the pain in my ankle, and I was pretty certain my right wrist was at least sprained.


“He’s bleeding.” One of the others pointed out. “He get bitten?”


I hadn’t even realized the blood oozing from the scrapes on my arms, and seeping through the knees of my jeans.


“He fell.” ******* glanced at me. “Just a little bruised up.”


“They’ll smell him a mile away.” *** sniffed the air in apparent demonstration.


“I’m fine,” I repeated.


[Editor's note: okay now I'm officially shaking in my shoes for those guys. Lots of great tension here. Wow.]


 



Teaser Tuesday with author DC Juris

Sunday, January 12, 2014

Sunday Brunch Post - Second Breakfast

saupload_mad_20hatter_20tea_20partyOkay, and now we come to Second Breakfast, in honor of our Hobbit Friends, and also our rascally writer brunch host, who was out of town last week. This is the second edition of Sunday Brunch with Friends.


Today we’re talking about winter holidays. I know, I know. You all understand that I come to winter from a completely different perspective. We have a mediterranean climate where I live, and there really isn’t any winter to speak of. I can go to the beach to surf (in a wetsuit) or the mountains to ski today. That’s how we roll. Where I live it’s between 60 degrees and 90 degrees 80% of the year.


Last Sunday Brunch Winner: Kate!


Not really all that excited to have no seasons, but I was born here. There are wintertime activities though, all over (besides holiday shopping) and today my pals answer the question:


What’s your favorite winter pastime?


Share your own favorite winter pastimes in the comments for a chance to win ebooks from these lovely authors. Just comment for a chance to win!


LEFranksSnowglobeSnowfall.


At a time when most of the country has been inside shivering and cursing Jack Frost due to the mysterious (and apparently imaginary) phenomenon of the polar vortex, winter, for some of us living in bi-seasonal California, still holds its glittery appeal.


When ZAM posed this question I was suddenly sucked through time, experiencing a shuffling of memories, all variations of me walking down snowy roads, in either the soft lux of daylight or in the pitch of a blanketed night…but in every scene, my head is thrown back, arms flung wide, my tongue stretched painfully past the point of resistance, straining to catch each fat goose-downy flake drifting by.


It doesn’t matter if the memory is from a frosty Salt Lake City night at age five when the snow was so high that the paths we wore through the backyard banked at our shoulders; or when my own girl was three—swimming in an outdoor heated pool at Lake Tahoe in early February, the snow falling in our hair.


Snowfall is Magic.


I don’t care how paltry the winter offering is; just standing outside in the drifting silence is enough to make my spirit soar.


On the ground, snow becomes the material of adventure or exertion—depending on age, inclination, and responsibility…but the stuff fresh from the sky is a wonder and I would give almost anything to be there in those moments with you, my frozen US friends—catching snowflakes. – Author LE Bryce


Thank you Zam for including me in another Sunday Blog. My current release is Snow Globe, a short about an artist looking for his own piece of winter magic. [Editor's Note: I can't tell you how much I LOVE that cover. I just want to feed them hot soup!]


You can find it at  Dream Spinner Press or  Amazon.com.


~*~


BadAttitude300Winter. Ahhh. You know what the most awesome thing to do in the winter is? Not be hot. Now, before you all say, oh K.A., you’re always hot—and thank you very much, but that’s just the writing talking—I’m really talking about the outside temperature. I love being bundled in warm clothes, snuggling down under the weight of blankets with a good book or with someone to inspire a good book in me. Err, with me?


And I love the muffling, insulation of snow. I love to stand in the woods and watch it fall, listen to the whispers of it as it deadens sound and makes everything a beautiful black and white picture with only evergreens and cardinals for splashes of color. I could stand there until I freeze.


Oops, I think I may be channeling Wallace Stevens there.


So then it’s back into the house under the fluffy, fuzzy blankets with tea and a good book. You know what else is awesome about winter? No one ever says, “You’re going to stay inside and read on a day like this?”


Yeah, so come on do it with me. Comfy surface? Check. Blankets? Check. Hot beverage? Check. Book? You don’t have one? Well, leave a comment with your favorite winter activity and one will be randomly selected for a ten dollar Amazon gift card. Now, go forth and snuggle. [Editor's Note: COOL! A Givaway. Go forth and Comment!]


Bad Attitude is available at  Samhain  Amazon   ARE   B&N


[Editor’s second note: Check out what’s coming April 15th, one reason to LOVE Tax day this year:


BadInfluence-R (1)


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


~*~



810X44wbq2L._SL1425_


Winter?


We have winter in So. Cal?


Seriously, I was riding around with the top down and wearing short sleeves on Christmas Eve. The week of New Years, I sweated through my leathers when I rode my Harley to the office. Winter around these parts means it just gets a little rainier.


So, not so much winter, but the holidays in general. I love gearing up for them. Thanksgiving and Christmas and then on to New Years. Walking through the stores with all the snowy displays that are so out of place when it’s 80 degrees outside. Watching a Charlie Brown Christmas for the 10,000th time. Putting up all three trees (yes we have three full-sized trees throughout the house). Holiday meals. Get togethers. Finally, chowing down on LA Street Dogs while standing on Colorado Blvd. watching and smelling the floats of the Rose Parade as the punctuation mark at the end of that festive rollercoaster.


If it rains, well then that’s an excuse to huddle inside with the dogs, cats and kids and watch movies. We play a lot more poker, having friends over for that, since it’s in between sports seasons – which everyone’s kids are involved in.


The weather is similar, but “winter” does have a different vibe than spring or fall. ~~Author James Buchanan


Purchase Laying Ghosts  Amazon   ARE   B&N


 



Sunday Brunch Post - Second Breakfast

Sunday Brunch - 1/12/14

saupload_mad_20hatter_20tea_20party


I’m just going to admit something here: Lately I’ve had a LOT of balls in the air. Last year I had several book releases: Grime And Punishment, My Cowboy Heart, Grime Doesn’t Pay and Lost and Found. I also wrote two more books, My Heartache Cowboy and a new one no one has even heard about yet, tentatively titled Home The Hard Way, which I finished on New Year’s Day (and totaled 90,000 words) when I typed in the last period.


On top of that, I’m really not writing in a vacuum. It seems I have a home and a husband and four kids, without whom none of this is meaningful at all… I have friends. I also have a rich and vibrant fantasy life. I dunno. Sometimes I drop the ball. Last year I failed to post things when I was supposed to, which is why sometimes you get more than one Tuesday Teaser at a time, or more than one Sunday Brunch Question. (Like today.)


And I’ve been unforgivably slow to post prizes in the mail. (I even found one of them in my car this week, because I had forgotten to post it at all.) I’ve been lax in keeping up cherished correspondences. I’ve given close local friends the impression I can’t be bothered to be social…


So, I think since this week’s first question is:


“What are your New Year’s Resolutions and which one do you think you’ll break first.”


2010-04-30 15.51.31I will answer with my New Year’s Resolutions first:


I ZAM, will cherish my friends and family even more this year.


I will not be as much of a hermit.


I will brave the post office, even in the holiday season (or I will get everything out way ahead) Or I will send gift cards through the World Wide Web and you will not be disappointed by me ever again.


I will set aside one day each week to create blog posts and stick to that schedule.


I will not procrastinate.


Those are mine, and I would say procrastination and schedules are the ones I’m likely to break first. ~~Author Z.A Maxfield


You can give Z.A. Maxfield Holy Hell if she forgets any of these things, at her email address zamaxfield at zamaxfield dot com.


Leave me your New Years’ Resolutions in the comment section below, please, I’m sure we’ll all enjoy looking back with the contentment of a job well done at the end of the year… OR NOT. *blushes*


~*~


BehindTheCurtain_postcard_front_DSPMy New Year’s resolution was going to be not to commit to so much, because I’m exhausted!  But I broke that last night when I started writing a short story for a charity anthology at the urging of two (*aherm*) friends.   It was also going to be to make the diet stick– and I can honestly say I’ve been doing that.  Of course I’ve been sick and generally disgusting, and even fudge is unappetizing, so I’ve sort of had some help on that front.  And I was going to keep my business matters more in check, but then a credit card got pirated and I still need to buy plane tickets to Florida.  But I definitely need to find my lost Kindle.  This year.  I can only read so much on my phone.


~~Author Amy Lane


Purchase Behind the Curtain   Dreamspinner   Amazon   ARE


~*~


1483321_10152172149016214_792864345_aFirst of all, hiya Zam! I so love coming over to hang out with you. The camaraderie, the cupcakes, the prospect of sighting one of your many vintage and uber-nerd-girl cool lunch boxes… well, I gotta admit it give me happy clappy hands. [Editor's Note: YOU ARE SO SWEET]


Every. Single. Time.


No fooling.


Now that that is our of the way, I want to say hello to my fellow New Year’s Resolvers…


*psst. Zam. Is that a word? Resolver? Eh, I think the readers will get what I mean. Or, you know, point and laugh. That’s good too.* [Editor's Note: I like to think of myself as a *Resolutionary* Vive la Resolution]


Right. Resolutions? Let me lay them out for you. Because hey, when I started thinking about New Year’s Resolutions, I started thinking about the changes I want to see in my life this year, the ones that I want to be an embodiment of, and the ones whose glory I want to bask in.


*Oh. Didja see that? I’m pretty sure I just dangled a participle. Quick, scope out the room, Zam… Are there any editors whimpering and clutching their red pens? Wincing and cuddling up to their laptops or tablets? Ouch.*


Ahem. Right. On to the resolve. Resolutely forward.


1) Plan stuff and things out better. Seriously. Backwards planning. How long it takes to do such and such. When it needs to be done. When I need to start… yeah, already blew that one to hell and gone. Moving right along, then, nothing to see here, nothing to see. What? The woman flying by the seat of her pants and making it up as she goes? Seriously, nothing to see here. Ahem.


2) Lose weight. Mainly for my health, but also because I am vain. No, really. And I have extreme shoe envy. Yes, yes, Marie Sexton, I am talking about your divine shoe collection. *salivates* Because I wanna wear my sexy shoes again, and at this weight my back won’t take the added stress. But if I slim down, I can *likely* wear heels for short bursts of time. Just long enough to make me happy and feed my sexy shoe fetish.


3) Exercise more. Health, and did I mention I’m just a wee bit vain? I want to look and feel my best. Plus, when I exercise I have so much more energy to write with! That right there is winning with a side of win.


4) Write more. ‘Nuff said.


5) Study harder *eh, or smarter, whichever comes first* in school. Yes, I’m back in school. Business major. Because there is just so much of this authoring that is all about the business aspects, and I figure I need to get myself rocking in that arena. The creativity? Got it. The writing skills? I learn a little more every day, and hope that every single book I put out is a little better than the one before. One day I want to hear folk say… “Do you see how much she grew as a writer over the course of her career?” And then of course, they can launch into a lovely soliloquy about how very brilliant my later works are. That would be awesome.


6) Spend more time with my kidlet. Structured time. With body armor, a whip and a chair, because… sheesh. Have you seen a teenager lately? They are scary beasts, I tell you what. Yes. I—no, I am not joking about the whip and chair. Okay, maybe a little bit joking. But only literally. There is no joking about needing all three of those things figuratively when dealing with the dreaded teen beast. So, this leads me directly to my next resolution.


7) Receive a Presidential Medal of Courage in Parenting. *see above*


8) Be more organized and stuff. *hmm. I may have mentioned this already. Lists are good. I like lists. And color coding them. Never mind.*


9) Write every day. This one? Is the realio dealio, I am pushing to make this a reality. Because writing every day leads to writing better prose every day. Which in turn will spur me to be more organized, which will free up time to spend with the dreaded teen *cracking of whip sounds*, leading to being nominated for that Presidential award, freeing up time to exercise, which in turn leads to the weight loss and my ultimate goal of affording *via scads of book sales* the sexy shoes which my new, strongly muscled and svelte figure will enable me to do more than gaze at longingly.


10) Possibly swear less, drink less coffee and give up chocolate. *bwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha*

Everything hinges on the whole writing every day thing.


Well, everything hinges on daily writing except for number ten. That one’s fucking impossible. Especially without fortifying myself with coffee and chocolate first. So I’ll go right ahead and plan to break #10 at every given opportunity, because if I managed to fulfill all ten resolutions… well, you’d be obligated to go find the freaky space pod that ate my brains and produced the false, caffeine and chocolate free Cherie


*Oh dear, I can’t even say that without weeping just a little.*


I have been writing every day. Writing my fingers and toes off since the first of the year, that’s what I’ve been doing. In fact I even started earlier. November… yep, that’s when I started the current push to be better about writing, editing, blog posting and hosting and promo, oh my… all the bits and bobs that go with being an author… November and December were a wee bit rocky for various reasons, but every single day since the first of the year I’ve been right on target. I can feel those sexy shoes getting closer and closer every day. My first product of this improved organization and stuff is the Big Bone Lick Anthology, which publishes January 24th. Kendall McKenna, Jambrea Jo Jones and I all wrote a story for the anthology set in and around Big Bone Lick Park.


Big Bone Lick CoverI could not make up a name like that. It’s a real place. True story. Here’s the smexy cover for the story, and a wee little blurb.


Blurb: Welcome to the Big Bone Lick Pack: A more friendly and hospitable group of werewolves you’ll never meet! Visit with; ‘Devil Dog & Bad Wolf’, a ‘Big Bad Bear’ and enjoy some ‘Shifty Fox Shenanigans’. Watch yourself, ’round the state park, ’cause we had a grizzly on the loose, just a bit ago. Our brave men and woman of the Boone County Sheriff’s Department have everything under control. (Except maybe their own love lives!) But if you find yourself needing a doctor, head on down to Rabbit Hash clinic, or St. Elizabeth’s Hospital is just up the road a piece. We hope you enjoy your stay.


IMG_20140104_192137If you want more info on the silly behind the scenes shenanigans that went into creating the Big Bone Lick Pack, or the chance to win some fun prizes like the sweet fox pictured here, catch us on tour. Here’s the link:


TALES FROM THE WRITING CAVE


Again, thanks for having me over for brunch, Zam!


 ~*~


SettlingtheScoreI have a funny relationship with New Year’s resolutions. I’m generally against them. For starters, new year’s day is an entirely arbitrary date on the calendar with no relation whatsoever to any celestial phenomenon. Seriously, it’s what? Roughly a week and a half past the winter solstice? I realize the calendar is a mess to begin with, but that would actually make sense for the end of one year and start of the new one. Think of it—the day of the solstice is the rebirth of the sun after the longest night, so why not make it the start of the new year? It’s perfect!


Quixotic calls for calendar reform aside, I also think that if something’s worth doing, it’s worth doing when you think of it. Why wait for an artificial date on a calendar? Plan to do something improving in the new year? Great! Why not start now? In my case I wanted to get back in shape before the DSP Authors Weekend in Portland in April, so I hit returned to the gym in the middle of December instead of joining the new year’s resolutionaries on January 1st. [Editor's Note: See? And I didn't even read this before and I coined that phrase above. Proof we share a brain. I think you got all the best parts though. Just saying']


That said, I do make one resolution every year. It’s the same resolution every year, and I blow that sucker out of the water before lunch. I resolve not to mock the deeply-held beliefs of others.


Well, what did you expect? It’s like you don’t even know me. Oh well, as Sue Brown remarked, my head would explode if I tried to keep that one.


You can find me online at christopherkoehler.net/blog, on Facebook, or on Twitter @christopherink.


Settling the Score is the fourth book in the CalPac Crew series, all available at Dreamspinner Press. It was released on December 16, 2013.


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Sunday Brunch - 1/12/14