Amberly Smith

Interview - Ashe Barker

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 06 Oct 2016 06:00:00 +0000

I hope you'll help me welcome Ashe Barker. We've both agreed to write a book in the interconnecting series the Order of the Black Knights for Dreamspinner Press. Her book Gideon is the flagship and came out yesterday. She graciously agreed to answer my questions.

Amberly: Hi Ashe, thank you for agreeing to this interview. The Order of the Black Knights launched yesterday, starting with your book Gideon. Can you tell me about the series and why you decided to be a part of it?

Ashe: Hi Amberley, and thank you for inviting me over for a chat.

Gideon is something of a departure from my usual writing, but when I was asked to contribute a story I was delighted to join the series. I found the premise intriguing – hot and dominant men, the Black Knights - who have lived again and again down the ages, always unaware of their previous incarnations but doomed by an ancient curse to repeat the same mistakes with each lifetime. It was my first paranormal story but won’t be my last.

Here’s the series blurb…
Order of the Black Knights
Every century has its knights, but they are not always seen. Some of them do what must be done – getting their hands dirty when no one else is willing. Assassins and antiheroes who work from the shadows, they are called the Black Knights. From the time of the society’s creation in the 1100s, these men are cursed to repeat their lives of bloodshed. But for each knight there is one who can bring out the man that waits inside and break the cycle. The question is whether or not the knight will kill his true love before he figures it out.

Amberly: I haven't even started Benedict's story but am super excited to see how everyone else spins their tale. What do you think draws readers to stories of anti-heroes? And can you tell us a bit more about Gideon?

Ashe: Well I’m dying to read Benedict, so get on and write his story FAST. I have read Thianna Durstan’s Vespar though (due out in January next year) and he is one seriously sexy dude, a real badass but with a soft(ish) centre.

Next up after Gideon is Matthias (Alexis Duran) who we get to meet in the flesh, so to speak, in November, and Evalise Archer’s Jaegar will be here in February or March next year. Some real treats in store there and I’m honoured to be in such fabulous company. This is a fantastic series.

Right, what is it about an antihero? If I could come up with a decent answer and bottle it I expect I’d be famous, but all I can really tell you is that bad lads have a uniquely wicked appeal. I grew up on stories of pirates, outlaws, tattooed bikers and they all have some mysterious magnetism that I find irresistible. Perhaps it’s the challenge they offer. Perhaps they awaken my deep-seated desire to peel away the layers to find the decent, caring man beneath, the belief that love will overcome even the hardest heart. I am an erotic romance writer, after all.

Gideon is a complex man, one of the most difficult characters I have created I think. He’s not especially likeable, certainly not at first, and that’s exactly how he wants it. But still he fascinates. He is wealthy and powerful and he uses those advantages to the full whilst he is also skilled and fiercely intelligent, the best at what he does. He’s ruthless, a quality he had hones to a sharp point, and can set his conscience aside at will. Gideon disguises his feelings, shows no emotion and certainly no remorse, though that is not to say he feels none of it. He has a tough outer shell and it will take a lot to make a dent.

Enter Michael, his nemesis. Then the sparks really fly.

Amberly: We both have teenage daughters, mine are 13 and 15. How does your daughter feel about you being a writer? Has writing romance made it easier to talk about love and sex with her?

Ashe: Ah, now that’s a tough one. My daughter is 18, and I’ve been writing since she was about 14 so she’s always known the sort of stuff I write, though she doesn’t tend to read it. I don’t prevent her from seeing my work, she just prefers other genres. Her friends though, now that’s a different matter. I think she’s quite proud of my success, modest though it is, and I know several of her friends have followed me on social media. In the past I used to watch out for that, my blog etc. are strictly for adults, but I’m more relaxed now.

I like to think we’ve always been able to talk about most things pretty openly. I try to be tolerant, though there are times I am quite baffled by the issues which concern her. Relationships are a minefield, though not usually because of sexuality. Peer pressure is massive to young people and seems quite relentless because of ever-present social media. I try to convince her to be kind to others, to trust herself and her judgement, and to be accountable for her mistakes. I don’t think there’s much more we can do as parents, and it is vital to lead by example.

Some years ago I was given a piece of advice that I’ve found invaluable. Try it. All you need to do is cast your mind forward to a point in the future, maybe sixty years from now. By then all of us will be long gone, and our kids will be elderly themselves. Imagine our children talking to their grandchildren about us. What will they be saying? Will they describe us as good parents, people who made time for them, who listened, who left a lasting good impression and who showed their children that they were the most precious and important people in the world? If you want those glowing obituaries then what you do here, now, today will dictate what you get then. Don’t leave it too late.

Amberly: Sound advice indeed. Thank you so much for chatting with me! To wrap things up, tell us what you are working on now and what you have coming out next.

Ashe: Right now I'm working in a historical set in the Scottish Highlands in the 1400s which features a blind heroine. My next book to come out will be a self-published novella. The title is Rough Diamonds and it's a sort of erotic romance mystery. Next to write? Could be another historical (Vikings - yum) or I have an idea for a sci-fi which I've been thinking about for a while now. Whatever, there's plenty more in the pipeline.

Make sure to connect with Ashe on her website, Twitter, or on Facebook. And get your own copy of Gideon here.

Waking Jamal - Back Cover

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 13 Feb 2016 07:00:00 +0000

Artist Maria Fanning

Their physical and mental survival depends on them bonding.

Jamal Zumati joins the military, determined to repay the country that fed and housed him. But during his Hamask activation, his senses go offline and he enters a berserker rage. The United States Hamrammr Program, or USHP, has only one option: put him into hibernation.

Despite his extraordinary ability to read and manipulate situations, Vargr Lt. Rum Walker has stepped on one too many brass toes, and the USHP demoted him back to teaching new candidates. Rum is one paranoid thought away from self-destruction when he is recruited for a covert mission: pull Jamal from hibernation.

The problem is, no one has ever survived a berserker fury—at least not officially. If Rum is to challenge the military stereotypes, he’ll not only need to wake Jamal—he’ll need to get him to agree to bond as a Hamra Pair, the ultimate supersoldier team.

When Jamal and Rum team up with an FBI Hamra Pair to stop the terrorist group Dios Provee, Rum thinks he’ll show Jamal their true potential lies in an equal partnership, but Jamal is convinced Rum should take the lead. Will Rum stop Jamal from going berserk again and destroying both of their futures?

Coming March 25, 2016

Cover Reveal - Waking Jamal

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 03 Feb 2016 07:00:00 +0000

Coming April of 2016!
A huge thank you to DSP and my cover artist Maria. This rocks!

I've got a bunch of stuff I'm working on. Here's an overview, in case you are interested. Valhalla Initiative Book One - Waking Jamal will be out this spring. Book Two - Saving Wick is almost ready to go to my critique partner and beta reader. I've agreed to write a short for an Idaho Author Anthology. Then I'll be finishing Built to Spec which is the third book in the Rise of the Amazon series. Then the top secret project....shh, Order of The Black Knights.

On a fun note:
My latest blog post on Everybody Needs a Little Romance
http://wp.me/p2FGqy-4QY

Holiday Traditions

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 22 Dec 2015 04:19:00 +0000

I live with a Grinch. He growls at the sounds of Christmas music which are band from the house until the week before. My kids 'practice' their holiday songs before he gets home. He waits until the last minute to buy presents, usually online with overnight shipping so he doesn't have to go into stores. And he would happily not decorate at all except for the afore mentioned kids, and some times not even for them.

So what is my favorite Holiday tradition? Finding new ways to torture my Grinch. No just kidding.

He is amazingly good at Christmas giving. He buys me paper and tells me he believes in my writing. He remembers my favorite type and color of pen and picks them up like flowers for his love. He kisses our kid's foreheads when he comes home late after spending ten hours at the office and six at school. And he always makes sure there is milk in the fridge, something he often went without growing up.

So he can growl and grumble and we'll always know, he might dislike Christmas but he will always love us.

Deception of a Highlander - An Interview with Madeline Martin

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 15 Dec 2015 07:00:00 +0000

Recently I had the chance to interview author Madeline Martin about her book Deception of a Highlander.

Madeline, thank you so much for agreeing to this interview. I recently read Deception of a Highlander. I want you to know first off that I lost sleep over your book. It was a willing sacrifice on my part because I just couldn't put it away to go to bed. High praise? Perhaps, but deserved. Mariel Brandon is a spy for a shady man named Aaron who sends her to Scotland with the hero Kieran MacDonald. For once the heroine is the more damaged of the two characters. What inspired this book? Why Scotland and why a female spy?

Madeline Martin: That is high praise! Thank you so much, Amberly - I'm so glad you enjoyed Deception of a Highlander! When this book idea first came to me, it was Mariel who burned the thought into my mind. I wanted to know what would go through the mind of a female spy/assassin - a woman who could externally demonstrate considerable strength and skill, but whose subconscious was mired in constricting desperation at her own situation.

Why Scotland? When I was on maternity leave with my first minion, I let myself fall into Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series and I was in love! I had Scotland not only on the brain, but on the heart - and it's never faded.

Me: Oh that sounds lovely. The reader finds out early on about Mariel's mission from Aaron. Plenty of pages to speculate yet I was just as surprised as Mariel to find out the truth. (trying to avoid too many spoilers) The book deals with physical and emotional abuse. What do you think makes those topics so easy to relate to for readers?

While you work out that tough question, let me ask you an easier one. I love books with kick ass women. One of my favorites is by Jackie Ivie called Lady of the Knight. In Deception, Mariel is skilled in hand to hand and with knifes. If you could be superskilled, what would be your area of expertise be and why?

Madeline: If I could have any area of expertise, I'd love to be super badass skilled at hand-to-hand combat. I'd never need to worry about having a weapon on hand, and I'd probably be in such great shape, I wouldn't feel so guilty about having a handful (or two!) of M&M's.

The other question is a tough one!! With physical and emotional abuse, both leave one feeling beaten down, worthless, and helpless. While all of us may not have been subjected to abuse, we all know what it's like to feel those emotions and can relate to how debilitating they can be. Great questions, BTW!

Me Plain or peanut? I'm a firm believer that the protein level in peanut M&Ms make them a healthy snack. I agree that it's not whether or not we had the same experience but if we have felt the same emotions. You have other books based in Scotland; are they in the same series? Do any of the books contain characters from this first book?

Madeline: Peanut butter M&M's, actually. Those things are addicting!!

The other two books are part of the first in that they are the other men's stories. Possession of a Highlander is Colin's story and Enchantment of a Highlander (coming out January 19th) is Alec's story. They can all be read independently.

Me: I really like Alec as a character and can't wait to read more about his past. Enchantment is going on my Christmas list. You mentioned earlier that you have minions. My daughters are 14 and 12. What do your kids think about you being a published author? If they grow up to write, what do you want them to learn from you?

Madeline: Thank you. Aw, I bet your girls are so sweet! I have two daughters too! Mine are 6 and 9. They are my biggest fans. Every time we meet someone new, YoungestMinion digs a bookmark out of my purse and asks the person to please buy my book (I swear I didn't put her up to that!!!). LOL

Every time I get a new book out, they ask for bookmarks to pass out to the staff at school - it's so sweet. Once I was apologizing for my release day being busy and YoungestMinion said, "Don't feel bad, feel proud! We're proud of you!" Melt my heart.

If they grow up to be writers (OldestMinion is already treading the path!) and it makes them happy, I'd fully support them. My biggest piece of advice would be for them to always appreciate what others do for them. Writing is almost a community effort these days - not just with an editor and an agent, but also fellow authors and, of course, readers.

Me: That is amazing! Best minions ever. As one of your readers, I'm glad to be part of your community. In fact you acknowledge quite a few people at the end of the book for their help in making all this possible. One name that jumped out at me was Margie Lawson. She came to Boise in 2008 (I think) for a Master Class. Brilliant. With community increasing and interaction with your readers a greater possibility, do you think that brings more pressure to the writing life?

Madeline: Thank you - I definitely think my minions are pretty special and I totally agree with your assessment of Margie - brilliant! I did one of her immersions last year and it was amazing. I already want to do another one! I recommend her to every new author who asks me for advice.

The reader interaction brings more pressure, but it's not a social pressure as much as it is a time-limiting one. I love my readers and interacting with them daily makes me smile. They are a wealth of knowledge and humor and suggestions. I feel so fortunate to have gotten to know so many wonderful people because of it. But it does take time and that starts to cramp sometimes when things get busy. Fortunately, everyone is also very understanding and I've never had anyone seem offended when I am running late on replying to a post or I say I need some time off for a while.

Me: Before I ask my last question, I just want you to know it's been a pleasure to interview you. I think if we met in person we would totally get along. You have an epilogue of sorts and the book has a happy ending, all good romances do. What was the hardest part of the book to write and why?

Madeline: I totally agree! If you go to San Diego this year, we need to meet up for a cocktail.
The hardest part to write was the travel from England to Scotland. Probably not what you expected. Long travel scenes are so hard to write. They can be tedious if not done right or too "what the heck just happened?!" if too quick. But in a historical, it's a constant necessity since everything was by horseback. I wrote and rewrote that trek to Scotland and deleted TONS of unnecessary words to keep it trimmed up. It was a total pain to deal with. LOL

Thank you so much for taking the time to interview me. I enjoyed your questions and have had fun chatting with you. Hopefully you'll be in San Diego and we can meet in person. Have a wonderful holiday season and a fabulous new year.

You can get your own copy of Deception of a Highlander here. Also, follow Madeline on Facebook or visit her website.

If you'd like to be interviewed, it's tots fun, drop me and email with a link to your kickass book.

Sailing for Trouble - An Interview with Brenda Hammond

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 17 Nov 2015 07:00:00 +0000

Recently I had the chance to interview author Brenda Hammond about her book Sailing for Trouble.

Brenda, thank you so much for agreeing to this interview. I recently read Sailing for Trouble. Alexa Lloyd has just arrived in South Africa for the first time and has plans to find her father's treasure and care for her loved ones back home in Canada. The whole book has wonderful, rich descriptions of the country and it's people. Yet the opening scene especially draws a vivid view of the docks, boats, and streets of Cape Town. Have you been? Or do you've got an affinity for google maps?

Brenda Hammond: Hi Amberly, So happy that you asked me, and thanks for the kind words about Sailing for Trouble... and for reading the novel! Yes, I lived in Cape Town for fourteen years, and spent many Christmas holidays (summer in the Southern hemisphere!) in a cottage on Leisure Isle. So I became familiar with the lagoon, its tides and treasures. I got to visit again last February and it's still one of my favorite places. As to google maps, I have a story to tell. On our way back to Canada from the States one summer, we stopped at a small town for gas. Waiting to pay inside, we stood behind the Google guy -- his special car was parked outside -- who asked 'Can you please tell me where I am?' His cell phone battery was dead, so he had no means of knowing!!

Me: What a great story! You spotted the mythical creature, a man that will ask for directions. It sounds like you've traveled extensively and have been exposed to many different cultures and racial issues. As a firm advocate of diversity and accurately representing people in fiction, I was pleased to see your story handle these issues intelligently without getting too preachy. So, Alexa is a strong independent woman, who will chase after muggers and save herself from boating accidents. Without giving too much away, she has to be plucky to stop the 'bad guys' and help her long lost brother. What do you think makes Alexa so driven and so likable as a character?

Brenda: I'd say it's her adventurous and indomitable spirit, but also that, underneath it all, she has a kind heart. Also, her curiosity and longing to deepen her understanding of her late dad, his roots and background, so foreign to her, is like an insatiable need. This plays into her eagerness to experience as much as she possibly can during her short time in the Cape, South Africa. Plus, of course, who wouldn't want to find a long-lost and never-met half-brother??

Me: Yes, her love for her father drives her forward. I noticed you've written for Harlequin. What was that like? Why did you switch to Indie Publishing?

Brenda: I enjoyed writing for Harlequin because I love writing humor... different from my South African set stories. At Your Service, Jack did well for me. A second romcom was in the works when the Temptation line ended. She's the Boss is now published under my pseudonym, Alice Bramley (amongst a couple others), which already kind of explains my decision to go indie. It was my editor at Harlequin who suggested I try a submission to the new Bombshell line, although that too was nixed fairly soon. However, this was what brought Alexa into my life! She was my Bombshell heroine and she hung around persistently until I eventually gave her my full attention.

Me: Pesky characters, always wanting their stories told. I'm glad your blazing the Indie path. It gives us so much choice and responsibility. Which intentionally leads me to my next question. What is up with this cover? It isn't bad but I almost didn't read it because of the cover. Thank goodness I did or I would have missed a terrific story. And yes, sorry if you or your second cousin's niece made the cover, but it reminds me of teen romance novels in the early 90s. There is so much going on here than romance.

Brenda: Well, I'm chuckling here re your remarks about the cover. No need to apologize, though. One of the great benefits of being a writer is that you have to learn to take criticism. Anyhow, it was supposed to appeal to the new adult market, so in a way you're right. My budget at the time was minimal. And even now I'm struggling to find a suitable cover for my novel Cape Town, published here in Canada, but I retain rest-of-the-world rights. I hope to put it up soon as Dance to Freedom. Also, talking of covers, I have to confide that, as pretty much a feminist, I freaked when I saw mine for At Your Service, Jack. So there we have the dilemma. For me as a mid-list author, trad publishing has its advantages and disadvantages and so does Indie. Simply writing, on the other hand, brings me great pleasure and keeps me interested in people, the world, and life in general.

Me: Yes, seeing the world through our writerly eyes...I love that thought. Now that you mention it, Sailing for Trouble would appeal to the New Adult market. Early twenty somethings on grand adventures, still figuring out a few hard truths about life. For my last question, what are you working on now? What's next book wise for you?

Brenda: I'm actually working on two manuscripts. This week has been final revisions on a women's fiction all about what happens to three different couples when they attend a wedding in Vermont. Next week it's back to South Africa for my companion novel to Cape Town. Many readers asked for a sequel. My response? 'Sequel? There's no sequel.' But then an idea took hold (you'll know what that's all about, I'm sure) and I began to explore what was happening in the life of one of the other dance students. The first draft is about two thirds done, and I'm loving the way the story is revealing itself to me. But the process will take another few months before I reach the end and achieve a draft that's as good as I can make it.... So that's it from me. Many thanks again, Amberly, and especially for the thought-provoking questions and insightful responses.❤

Me: It's truly been a pleasure! Thank you for answering my questions.

You can get your own copy of Sailing for Trouble here. Also, follow Brenda on Facebook or Twitter.

FREE BOOK - Counting Down - Some Assembly Required

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 05 Nov 2015 07:00:00 +0000

My book Some Assembly Required will be out this Friday on Amazon in both print and ebook. To celebrate, the first book in the Rise of the Amazons series Bravery Not Included will be FREE for a limited time.

Rise of the Amazons book 1

Rise of the Amazons book 2

Bravery Not Included

Amazons are real. Not bullets-and-bracelets Wonder-Woman real, but really real.

Once facing extinction and scattered across the world, women with the rare genetic makeup for super-strength and lightning reflexes have re-emerged through HOAX—Home Of the Amazon eXchange—a website Liesel Grant developed to connect with other freaks like herself.

Then Amazon children start disappearing, the website and their super-strength the only thing they have in common. Desperate families hire Private Investigator Jim Griffon to find the missing kids. Jaded, manipulated and used by powerful women in the past, Griffon refuses to work with Liesel to uncover the kidnappers.

The danger escalates when Liesel's search uncovers evidence that the Amazons aren't the only "secret human race." Instead of scattering and trying to blend in, the Mightys became a secret society of power. When their next patriarch, Jordan Matthews, goes missing, they'll leave only dead bodies in their wake to find him.

Can Griffon put his trust in a woman? Has Liesel's hunt for truth exposed her people to even more danger? Can they find and stop the kidnappers in time? And when Griffon discovers Liesel is an Amazon—stronger than he could possibly imagine—can they find love?

Go get Bravery Not Included for FREE before times up.

Lies That Bind - An Interview with Kathy L. Wheeler

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 03 Nov 2015 07:00:00 +0000

Recently I had the chance to interview author Kathy L. Wheeler about her book Lies that Bind.

Hi Kathy, thank you so much for agreeing to this interview. Your book, Lies That Bind, is a sequel to Quotable but completely stands on it's own. I was intrigued reading the excerpt how it would tie into the previous books. Turns out it's a pair of friends and a pair of brothers. Do you have any more books planned for this series? Will we get to see more of the Gentrys?

Kathy L Wheeler: Thank you. There is one more big planned and started. Little Kenny's story.

Me: Ah, being secretive, okay. I'll get more out of you on the next question. Alex, the rich hero of Lies that Bind, asks Kelly, our heroine, to go to Colorado under false pretenses, is angry about her bringing her daughter (Taylor), is pissed that she is so attractive--he is very much a romance alpha. What are his redeeming qualities? Also, what about alphas appeal to you?

Kathy: Eeek. Sorry. Didn't mean to be so secretive. Emily, Alex's sister is the heroine in the fourth book. She is a spitfire too. Regarding Lies, Alex actually has some great redeeming qualities. He just finds himself stumped when he specifically asked Kelly to leave Taylor behind. He's pissed because it's dangerous. Taylor throws him for a loop. He has no idea how to talk to or interact with an outspoken 5 year old. But he comes through for sure.

Me: Absolutely, Taylor is a huge catalyst for Alex's character arc. She is precocious and very determined. It sounds like you have a full series planned out. What do you love about reading and writing series?

Kathy: I love how very different the characters are. Genna, the introverted brainiac; Lorianne, the sexy, yet insecure loyal friend; Kelly, devoted single parent, with a bite; Emily, a spitfire. And that's just the heroines...

Series are fun because the characters don't have to stop with "THE END". It seems as if my Cinderella Series will never end! Its already five books, with at least one more to go.

Me: Yes, it is absolutely difficult to say goodbye to characters you've invested so much time and energy to. So this is a spoiler question - Kelly's emotional struggle involves Alex telling her she has to make the first move when her rapist said she came on to him. Talk about a black moment! What inspired Kelly's backstory? How does she heal?

Kathy: I'm not sure what inspired her backstory, except possibly the opening line when Taylor asks Alex if he's gonna be her dad.... Her healing process comes through trust as most do. And when he handed her an envelope she had returned to him unopened from the attorneys of Smith and Jones. That sealed it for her. She knew he loved her then.

Me: Okay, one more tough question and we'll move to the easy stuff. You've got a cat (in real life) not in the book. I've got a pair of cats and they fill my life with so much joy. Why'd you name your cat Carly?

Kathy: Let's see if i can explain this from my phone, properly... my husband saved this cat one night a few years ago. It was really cold and rainy. She had a big hole in her side and almost died. I didn't find out about her for about a week because he took her to the vet. And so when I learned about her I said "So, we have a cat now?" He said, "Well, until she's well enough to be adopted." I said, " We're not giving her away. You saved her effing life." So, we had a cat. Then one day it's still very cold and he's walking down the hallway, (i was working on the Lorianne story at the time) and he asked me if I'd gotten his email. I check my email and there were lists of names. He's going to these different cat websites to see what a good name would be. I forgot to say that in the beginning I asked him what he named her. And he said he had to come up with something that would be good for a girl or a boy because he didn't know what she was. So he named her Jo. I didn't really like Jo {as a name} for a long-time. So he had this list of names: Ginger, Stormy, Ally Callie, cetera et cetera. Ally was too much like Al which is his name. Callie was too much like Cal, his brother in law. I didn't want anything like Stormy or Ginger. Carly was on the list too. So we decided on Carly. 6 months later he said, "I don't think she seems like a Carly." I rolled my eyes and said, "Her name is Carly. And she knows her name." I mean she really does she acts like a dog. My husband is a little OCD. Sometimes it's really entertaining and sometimes it's really irritating but overall it cracks me up and makes a good story.

Me: It does make a good story. Quiet the heroic advantage your husband had. Okay, final question. If you got a chance to send a message to the you before Lies that Bind, what would you tell the slightly younger you?

Kathy: I'm not sure. Because that story is very dark. And a younger me might not have been able to write a story like that. At least from the heroine's standpoint.

Me: I think we reveal to ourselves inner truths with each book. Alright, that ended on a down beat. Lies that Bind was emotionally intense but pulls off the all important Happily Ever After at the end. Thank you so much for answering my questions. Please let me and my readers know when book four of the Bloomington Series comes out!

Kathy: Will do. Thank you so much for your interest!

You can get your own copy of Lies That Bind here. Also, follow Kathy on her website or Twitter.

Some Assembly Required - Excerpt and Blurb

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 23 Oct 2015 06:00:00 +0000

Some Assembly Required will be out November 6th!

Two weeks and counting!

Blurb:

Rise of the Amazons book 2

Amazons are real and meeting in Las Vegas.

Renowned photographer Dianne Fender was too late to save her Grandma Maggie. Now, no matter what she has to do or suffer, she is determined to control her psychic abilities so she can protect Liesel Grant, the new Amazon Matriarch. The odds are against her since Liesel has been shot at, kidnapped, robbed, and generally pissed off by the Mightys—a secret race of superhuman men.

Doctor Sergei Sky must find a cure for the harsh Amazon gene mutations to help his family and others. Dianne, a double Amazon, is his best bet to test his early research. Plus, once he teaches her how to use her powers, she can find Liesel’s stolen codex—an ancient record of the Amazons.

Together they travel to Las Vegas for the first International Amazon conference. Assassination attempts, all you can eat buffets, a Harvest Team out to slaughter those who would expose the Mightys, and a Vegas wedding— Amazon style. Yep, things are totally going as planned.

Excerpt:

Chapter 1

Dianne Fender’s thoughts, and those of the hundreds of people in the church, flipped through her mind like a slide–show set on extra fast. She knew, even before she left the hospital, that her grandmother was dead. The new goal—keep Liesel Grant alive.

Grandma Maggie should have been buried in an Indian ceremony, not this grand-scale chapel and graveside service. Dianne was pretty sure that thought was hers. With little effort she could take a mental survey on A) how many people felt the ‘service was lovely’ or B) those who wished there’d been candles instead of the brightly lit overhead electric chandeliers. Option C) that Maggie had never died in the first place. Dianne choose that one.

At least the pallbearers would be Amazons.

The solid wood pews were worn. The funeral flowers were buried three arrangements deep, ten across, and had no scent. Dianne adjusted the long sleeves of her dress, pulling with a nervous twitch to cover her burns. Part of her mind knew the burns were no longer there but she tugged at her sleeves anyway.

A young girl sang the words to Britney Spear’s Toxic. Damn it. How dare they allow such a song to be part of this sacred ceremony? But Britney was in somebody’s head. Or rather, some young girl had the song stuck in her head. When Dianne laughed, the thoughts flooding her mind switched to thoughts of Dianne. Which was freaky-ass creepy. The drugs must be wearing off.

Escaping now would be good. At least to the rafters, her camera in her hands. The rafters weren’t anywhere near far enough to avoid the torrent of thoughts, nor would the camera shield her. But to have her equipment, to be dangling from a high dangerous point, that was familiar. Hell, necessary.

The only reason she’d ventured forth was Maggie.

Grandma Maggie had taken her to her first pow-wows. Before her abilities kicked in. Rich memories of colors, the sharp swish of shiny beads and the chanting rhythm. Her first photos had been of dancers, bonfires, her white grandmother, and the tribe that had adopted her a hundred years before. Pictures of people. Before being that close caused pain; before she became a hermit.

Liesel, the young Amazon leader, gave the eulogy. Tears streaked Liesel’s face as her kind voice eloquently paid tribute to a lost friend, a mentor. Liesel had worked tirelessly to connect all Amazons and Mightys—women and men of extraordinary strength. She had guided them to the answers they so desperately wanted, Dianne and Grandma Maggie included. Dianne owed Liesel more than just her devotion and respect.

Liesel had explained why she was different and that she wasn’t alone. Her Amazon mother and her father, the stiff empty man sitting next to her, the son of Maggie Mountain Fender, both carried the Amazon gene. Two Amazon genes were unmixy. Made a Blue Hair. In Dianne’s case a FUBAR human. And the drugs that helped block all the thoughts, that made the pain tolerable, breathable, were fading.

Dianne fumbled in her purse for a glass vial. Barney, her agent, had taken her to Wise Woman Daisy, a Navajo Indian who sold herbal medicines. She’d needed something for the pain and none of the drugs at the hospital had worked to block out the mental noise of those around her. The doctors had thought her quick recovery from the fire was a blessing from God for her great self–sacrifice. Please. As if. There was nothing shiny enough in her karma bank to pay for something like that.

"Maggie lived a life to be proud of. She died peacefully in her sleep and now is with her soul–mate. In her own words—” Liesel said. What Grandma had said Dianne didn’t hear.

The carousel in her head paused a short second longer on a man. The man knew that Maggie had been killed. Just like Dianne knew that Maggie’s death wasn’t a quiet passing in the peace of sleep. The slide was gone, and with the cold vial clasped in her hand, seconds away from peace, she closed her eyes to focus. All the thoughts, not just those of the mourners, but the thousands of people in a three mile radius, flooded her. Hot painful air caught in her throat. Her mind staggered under the weight. His oily presence was torn out of her grasp. She could no longer find him in the sea of noise.

The groan pulled from her tight chest sounded feral. She couldn’t do it, not even for Maggie.

She tipped the vial into her mouth, painting her tongue with the tart fluid, and felt her father place his arms around her. His grief and fear of loneliness made her black out for a second but then she felt him. Not his mind or his thoughts or anyone’s thoughts, him. Just the physical feel of her father. Solid, warm.

It was the first time that she had physical contact with another person in…a very long time. Unless you counted the painful touch of each doctor or nurse; of Barney, helping her walk out of the hospital.

"Liesel is stalling,” her father whispered. “You’ve been out for almost ten minutes. Are you okay?"

She straightened and nodded at Liesel. Sending a mental thank you. Probably a bit loudly, if Liesel’s jerk and then smile was any indication.

Dianne yanked at her sleeves again as she stood with the congregation. Her whole body shook as if she had Parkinson’s and her mind could only focus on the immediate.

Stand. Wait. Watch. Watch as six women, dressed in long black dresses, spread around the coffin. Who was in that coffin? Oh, Grandma Maggie. Right.

And the women weren’t wearing black, she just couldn’t take the time or effort to figure it out. She was watching.

The ladies lifted the solid mahogany casket easily—Amazons, her mind explained—and walked out of the church, carrying it on their shoulders to the waiting hearse.

-#-

Was it too bloody much to ask that her powers make sense? That they be useful? For almost fifteen years Dianne had lived on her own, traveled, photographed and finally, finally found peace. Found acceptance. Then she had a vision. What the fuck? If she was meant to make a difference, to help, was it too much to ask for a guide? Her very own Watson or Gandalf? Instead a vague sense of doom and she was sleeping on a couch in a city. Bringing her mental baggage to Liesel, who deserved her own peace.

Yet Liesel was the only one who believed Maggie had been killed. So, until she knew what happened to Maggie, she would stay close to Liesel. She’d have another chance to make this right. She just needed to suppress her powers enough to cope.

Having psychic abilities was like reading a novel with all points of view present. Today, because of some street-acquired Mary Jane, Dianne only heard the points of view of the five women present.

"I don’t need a point guard," Liesel said and thought, My life is so screwed up.

They might not believe Dianne’s vision had predicted Maggie’s death but they were determined to protect Liesel. She’d already been kidnapped, shot at, and her home broken into. Plus, there was a very powerful family of Mightys—the Mathews—that had made it quite clear they disapproved of HOAX, the rising Amazon community. All of which didn’t include inside threats.

"All queens have, at the very least, a set of body guards," Tammy Griffon said. Tammy personified the suburban housewife, conservative dress and manners in neutral colors.

"I am not the Queen." Liesel buzzed around the room, sorting through mail, wiping off the kitchen counter. She was doing her best to be polite to these women but was growing weary of their bossy insistence. She even smiled, thinking how ironic it was to be designated queen. She didn’t have enough influence to get them to stop pestering her about a guard detail. Again.

All four women were shorter than Dianne’s obnoxious 6’1’’ height and, worse, Dianne was suffering major hair envy for Liesel’s red curls—a thousand black exclamation marks covered Dianne’s head. She placed her hand over her recently bald scalp, as if that would hide her short hair.

Liesel tried again. “I can’t be called Queen, that’s just ridiculous. This isn’t a country. I’m a political figurehead for an organization. A web-based organization."

Dianne’s drug oblivion from the funeral had lasted the night and she awoke on Liesel’s couch ashamed of her retreat. That man in the congregation had known something about Maggie and she couldn’t suck it up long enough to learn his secrets, whether or not he was the killer. If Maggie had been killed at all. Like a selfish child, she’d hidden behind the drug, used it instead of fighting.

Dianne stayed on the couch as Liesel’s baby sister Harriett started loading the dishes. It would be nice to stay busy by helping, but she couldn’t risk being that close to everyone.

"So Madame President, you still need to consider—" Harry, the only non-Amazon in the room, didn’t broadcast her thoughts like the others. If Dianne concentrated on the blonde she could read emotion and surface thoughts. But the whole point of the marijuana was to not think. Harry blocked her mental scan. How? Dianne was busy not thinking about it and envying the long, straight blond hair.

Liesel interrupted her younger sister, "I don’t like President." She was putting leftovers from a late breakfast into the fridge and looking out into the back yard where Tammy’s girls chased each other.

"What about Monarch?" Tammy said.

"The butterfly?" Liesel asked. She rolled her eyes and pictured herself lying in a huge bed, thick blankets and a warm male body surrounding her. Jim Griffon, the boyfriend and Tammy’s brother-in-law. Dianne felt a deep ache of desire in Liesel’s stomach that made her own skin flush with heat.

Dianne shook her head to get out of Liesel’s thoughts. Out of Liesel’s and into Anna’s, Liesel’s assistant. Anna Marie Fort-Porter’s brain was like a super computer. Dianne wasn’t sure what a super computer was but had learned not to ask Anna questions. Dianne would get encyclopedia-level details.

Monarchs, Danaus Plexippus, Greek for ‘sleepy transformation’. Related to the Greek myth, the daughters of King Danaus of Libya. The information rolled through Anna’s mind, who ignored it.

Each adult butterfly lives four to five weeks. In autumn a special generation are born that survive seven or eight months. In human terms 525 years old.

"Then isn’t that fitting? Since we live a long time. Or can," Dianne said to Anna. Unlike Anna’s thoughts, Dianne spoke out loud.

The two sisters and Tammy looked at Dianne. Anna groaned and slumped further down in her chair in the corner. Liesel thought, I don’t know how to help her. I need to get a hold of Sergei. Maybe he can help. At the same time Dianne heard Tammy’s Freak. Dianne brushed their thoughts away. Whatever. Nothing new there.

"Who’s Sergei?" Dianne asked.

"Even though you can read people’s minds,” Anna said, “doesn’t mean you should say what’s in their heads. It’s in there for a reason." We’re all hiding something. Dianne knew Anna’s cynicism, unlike that of other eighteen year olds, stemmed from battle-weary experience.

"Let’s get something clear." Liesel smiled. "Tammy, you live in San Francisco with Frank and the girls. You can’t be my bodyguard. Harry, you’re my sisters and I love you but you need to work and can’t be here twenty–four seven. Anna is in her first year of college. Nuff said."

They were due in Las Vegas for the first national convention of HOAX, Home Of the Amazon eXchange. There Liesel would be voted in as leader—title to be determined—and a board of directors appointed. Surviving in Vegas would make Dianne’s visit to Boise look like a fun field trip to a sunny park.

And me? Dianne asked Liesel.

Liesel smiled at her. "We need to figure out a way you can survive in a city." She rubbed her fingertips against her temple.

Preferably without weed, Anna thought.

"I heard that." Dianne glared at Anna.

Anna just smiled and said in her head, Welcome to my mind, Jean Grey.

"Who?"

Anna laughed again and got up to get a glass a water from the fridge. Her mind filled with old comic book pictures of a red headed superhero who could move things with her mind.

"I’m not telekinetic," Dianne clarified.

"What?" Tammy asked, irritated.

"She can’t move things with her mind," Harry explained.

Stop. Stop. Liesel pushed at her temple, feeling pain throb there.

Dianne didn’t think about it, she just scooped Liesel up like a young child and carried Liesel to her bedroom. The weight of her queen in her arms, the scope of light bleeding into shadows, were still muted by the drugs she had taken during the service and the marijuana. So it felt like carrying a pillow in a dim room.

"What the hell are you doing?" Harry demanded.

"She’s in pain." Careful not to touch Liesel skin to skin, Dianne angled sideways to avoid bumping the narrow hallway walls. The house was both home and office to Liesel’s web design company and headquarters for HOAX. What if the threat wasn’t a potential killer but an illness? Breast cancer ran in the Grant family. Dianne checked Liesel’s mind for her last physical.

"I’ve just got a headache. Dianne, put me down," Liesel said. She wasn’t frightened of Dianne, but still she was fully capable of walking to her room on her own.

"No," Dianne said. Liesel had had a full exam and blood work done after she was kidnapped. Everything looked fine.

"D, you need to chill," Anna said.

Tammy had her dander up and Dianne sent a mental command to stay the hell back, do not touch. Sometimes they listened.

The women followed them down the hall into Liesel’s room. It was messy, and Liesel cringed in embarrassment.

Then as she realized Dianne was carrying her she jerked still in her arms. Dianne!

Understanding her friend’s concern, Dianne said, “I’m being careful not to touch skin.” She stumbled at the bedroom’s threshold as it switched from hardwood to carpet. Startled, Liesel grabbed Dianne’s neck.

In that brief instant of touch, nightmarish images took over. Dianne stood in a glass cube where Griffon bled from deep gouges. Her sister Harry sobbed and a small child, muscular like a circus carnies’ sideshow, cowered in the darkness.

Someone tortured Griffon. Sliced deep. Blood pumped in rhythmic streams down his body. Harry, the gray of decay, dripped pungent water and didn’t breathe. Dianne tried to offer Harry comfort, save Griffon and lead the child into the light. Her muscles tore away from her bones, pulled in three different directions.

Dianne dropped Liesel onto the bed. She experienced a brief moment of black sharpness before all the other thoughts flooded back in. And not just the house. Dianne swayed on her feet and fell like a cut tree. Liesel made it out of the way just in time. She lay stomach down, face turned to the side on Liesel’s bed.

Before Dianne succumbed to unconsciousness, she saw Liesel reach out to brush the hair out of Dianne’s face. Oh god she wanted that, a motherly touch, soothing, strong. Liesel stopped, remembered not to touch.

I’m so sorry.

It happens.

How was she supposed to help protect and support Liesel if she couldn’t be within miles of a city without her life being totally fucked up?

-#-

Doctor Sergei Sky ran his hand over the top of his head, feeling the short blue bristle of his hair. He was wet. Runny–wet. If you stand in the shower or in the rain then you are dripping–wet but water from inside—sweat—runs off skin. Runs at different speeds in rivulets; runny–wet. He grabbed a grungy towel he kept for the purpose and wiped down his muscular arms and scrubbed his head. His t–shirt and the towel were tossed in the hamper and he took the single step required to go from home gym to office.

Enjoying a rush of endorphins and adrenaline, unwinding a bit before his vacation, revved him up. He flipped a page in his battered notebook and read page three for the eight hundredth time.

“Nice abs,” crackled across the walkie–talkie.

Sergei started and laughed looking outside to the apartment building across the way. He placed a finger in the notebook to keep his place. Yeah, as if he would forget what it said. Somehow the answer would present itself. It had to.

He picked up his walkie–talkie and pressed the send button. “Well, Veranda, that’s why I leave the drapes open. To enhance the view.” He made his voice slick and flirtatious. He turned his body toward the window and undulated his hips once to really show off the goods. He laughed at how ridiculous he probably looked.

“If you got a gym membership you’d have a reason to get out of the building. Maybe meet someone.”

“Veranda! Are you breaking up with me?”

His neighbor had a motherly tone to go with her sassy, wise-woman persona. “Darlin’, I’m too much woman for you.”

Sergei laughed and tossed the notebook into his carry-on. Every word Liesel Grant had translated from ancient texts, the gene research, even the sporadic bits of the Amazon codex—before it was stolen, was in that notebook. Everything he’d ever found on Blue Hairs.

“I’m going to miss you next week,” Veranda said. He pulled his water bottle out of the fridge and chugged it while she spoke.

“You could come to Las Vegas with me.” He wiped his mouth. “We’ll take in the Blue Man Group and get married in one of the cheesy chapels.” Sergei walked to the window and waved to Veranda.

The seventy-year-old woman was wearing her favorite bubble-gum pink sweater. It engulfed her frail body and made Sergei think of those coconut stacked sweets—pink, brown and white.

“Can’t afford it.” It was a difficult subject, money. Veranda lived on bread bought at wholesale and the ‘discounted groceries’ Sergei took in twice a week. Shortly after moving in, Sergei saw the old woman, who he smiled at in passing, fall on a loose rug. It was late and hard for him to see but Sergei knew she didn’t get back up.

He alerted the police. She’d broken her hip. The walkie–talkies were his idea. Him eating his only non–microwaved meals at her apartment was Veranda’s idea. She was a nice enough lady that he occasionally felt bad for taking advantage of her generous nature. The groceries were an attempt to make up for his general lack of a heart. Okay, as a doctor he knew he had a heart, but not much of a soul. Those great-tasting meals and the home-like feel of their visits was worth the price of compliments and the time Sergei spent.

“You’ll bring back pictures?” Veranda said.

“And shot glasses and pink M&M’s from M&M world.” He could see her laugh even from this distance because her whole body shook. “Your nephew Tony’s coming on Monday and his wife Sarah on Wednesday—” The walkie-talkie squawked and stuttered as she interrupted. Her version of sticking her fingers in her ears and going ‘La-la-la.’

He released his button.

“Get cleaned up and come over. I’m making spaghetti.”

He rearranged his mental schedule and kept his sigh to himself. She’d be alone until Monday and it wasn’t like he had anything to cook here. His chest twinged with guilt over his reluctance. She was a good person. She deserved a faithful and grateful friend. Instead Sergei dragged his feet.

“I need to check my email. Half hour?” Sergei said.

“Ten four, Blue Hair.”

Sergei set his walkie-talkie down on the small coffee table that also doubled as a kitchen table. The place was small but just a block from the D.C. hospital where he had done his residency. If he had had student loans to pay back like most new doctors, there was no way he could afford it.

The flat consisted of three rooms: bath, bed and catch all. The minuscule bathroom had needed a shower head extension, which he installed the first day. The old one didn’t reach above his shoulder. At least on the top floor the ceilings were all high. Just as long as he remembered to duck in the doorways.

He turned on his radio and set the volume to the piece of tape marked ‘approval line.’ Above the tape and the neighbors started pounding to turn it down. He nodded his head a couple times and gave a snap to The Ramones’ Blitzkrieg Bop. Above the radio hung a framed photograph of a Life Flight medical helicopter landing at sunset. A blanket, his only successful sewing project from Home Economics class, lay on his bed. Every remaining shelf, surface, and floor space held his medical books.

He left the radio on as he checked his email. Credit card offer. Couldn’t they just stick to snail mail? Monthly subscription to an online doctor’s magazine. He’d read that on the plane. Save on your car insurance. What? No, penile implants? The last was an email from Liesel Grant with the subject line ‘I need your help.’ His body tensed, the press of his heartbeat against his chest so much stronger than when he’d been exercising.

Serg,

Maggie’s granddaughter Dianne is a Blue Hair with extreme psychic abilities. She’s suffering in Boise but refuses to leave. I know you don’t start your new job until after Vegas but could you recommend something?

Liesel

Crap. He knew exactly what was wrong and didn’t need the hassle. He had finished his residence. Three years of being the bottom of the totem pole. Little sleep, almost no social life and every spare moment filling his notebook. Not only was this his first adult vacation but he hadn’t had more than two days off in nearly four years.

He would start his new job for NEWCo Labs in a couple of weeks. The company had helped him obtain his research grant to study the effects of different medications on Schizophrenic patients. A disease the world believed his father suffered from. He wanted to help Blue Hairs before it was too late. Help those who suffered like his brother had, like his father did. Like Dianne was suffering.

Hero Status - An Interview with Kristen Brand

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 20 Oct 2015 06:00:00 +0000

Recently I had the chance to interview author Kristen Brand about her book Hero Status.

The White Knight & Black Valentine Series Book 1

Hi Kristen, thank you so much for agreeing to this interview. I first came across your latest book Villainous and was intrigued by the cover and premise. Once I saw it was a sequel I jumped over to Hero Status to read it first. I truly enjoyed reading it. You've written a book with a solid balance of humor and action and tied a who-done-it bow around the whole thing. The story is based in Florida, specifically Miami and takes place during a Superhero convention. One of my favorite things about the story is the diverse backgrounds and ethnicity of the characters. Dave, aka the White Knight, is at least half Cuban. What inspired this cast of characters and do you feel diversity in fiction is important? Why?

Kristen Brand: Hi Amberly. Thank you so much for inviting me to do an interview!

I’m a fan of the advice “write the book you want to read,” so that’s what Hero Status was for me. I’d say the characters were inspired by the state of superhero comics at the time I wrote the novel. Spider-Man had sold his marriage to the devil (No, really.), and the DC universe had rebooted and erased Superman and Lois Lane’s marriage along with many others. Everybody was young and single again, and I wanted to read about a superhero who was allowed to grow old and be in a committed, drama-free relationship. Plus, I’ve always been a fan of the Dating Catwoman trope, so that’s how I ended up with Dave, a retired superhero happily married to his former nemesis.

Dave interacts with a lot of characters throughout the novel, and I think it would be boring and unrealistic if they weren’t diverse. The world is a diverse place, and fiction should reflect that. Everyone deserves to be able to see themselves in the characters they read about, and I’ll take this chance to point to the awesome people at http://weneeddiversebooks.org , who do an excellent job of showing why this is so important.

Me: Spider-Man's One More Day! My husband has ranted about that story line. I can see the appeal of a drama-free relationship, as long as external factors keep them in the action. One of the scariest scenes in your book involves two suspects in a sex club using mind control. To be that vulnerable and manipulated, and worse, to forget later what had been done. I think I would feel like my body had been broken into and ransacked. What is your worse fear and how do you use that in your story or writing?

Kristen: I don’t know if I should put my worst fear out on the internet. I feel like that could backfire on me someday, haha. I’m afraid of bugs, so if one of my characters ever fights a giant bug monster, that would be why. In all seriousness, though, I think my worst fear isn’t something bad happening to me, but something bad happening to someone I care about, and I definitely use that in my writing. Dave isn’t afraid of any of the villains he fights in the novel. He’s afraid he won’t be able to save his wife, and that his daughter will lose her mother. Keeping his family safe is his driving motivation throughout the story, which I think is relatable to a lot of people. (And he hasn’t had to fight any giant bugs. Yet.)

Me: Good point about being vulnerable on the internet, your nemesis would find it. Yes, great! Fictional characters, whether they have superpowers or are extraordinary in some other way, are best when they have relatable issues. I can't lift a car but I will always make sure my family is safe. Next question. It's obvious that your a fan of comics, why tell your story in a novel instead of a graphic novel or comic?

Kristen: That’s a really good question. I don’t think I ever considered going the comic book route with this story. Both comics and novels have their own advantages when it comes to storytelling. Comics definitely win when it comes to visuals, but I think prose can more easily put the reader into the main character’s head. For Hero Status, I wanted the reader to connect with Dave and see his thought process. Plus, I like being able to describe not just visuals, but what he’s hearing, feeling, smelling, etc. Details like the way Dave’s old superhero costume made him sweat in the summer or the citrus smell of his wife’s shampoo help ground the story in reality a little bit—which is important when your story is about people with fantastic superpowers.

Me: Good point. Everyday elements to offset the supernatural ones.

At different time Dave seeks out safe-houses his wife has set up around Miami. They have clothes and ID and money and weapons. He is appropriately grateful for his wife's paranoia because it makes hiding and regrouping easier. If you had a secret lair, where would it be and what would you have in it?

Kristen: I would have to go with a private island for my secret lair. It would be somewhere tropical and have a submarine for quick escapes. Having money and weapons there would be smart, but I’d settle for a well-stocked kitchen and a room to write in—something with a nice big desk and an ocean view. And since this is sounding less like a secret lair and more like a dream vacation home, I’ll throw in some trained guard sharks to keep out my nemesis.

Me: With laser vision! Okay, this has been a lot of fun but lets wrap things up with my last question. Tell us about the sequel to Hero Status and what you are working on now. *considers rewording to make it an actual question instead of a command* *decides to leave it*

Kristen: Yeah, I don’t think sharks with laser vision are too much to ask for.

The White Knight & Black Valentine Series Book 2

For Villainous, the sequel to Hero Status, I’ve switched to Val as the narrator. Basically, Dave’s in a bit of trouble after all the laws he broke to rescue her in Hero Status, so she makes a deal with the government to keep them from pressing charges against him. In exchange, she has to bring them enough evidence to arrest a certain supervillain she has a history with. It was fun writing from Val’s point of view, because while violence is a last resort for Dave, she’s much more willing to maim, murder, or mind-control people who get in her way.

Right now, I’m working on a prequel serial from Dave and Val’s pre-retirement days which will hopefully go up on my website early next year. Then it’s back to Dave’s point of view for book three in the series, Almost Invincible.

Me: I hope both Villainous and Almost Invincible have more of Dave and Val's daughter, lots of potential for emotional and humor moments there. Well, thank you so much for doing this interview with me.

Kristen: Thank you so much for having me!

You can get your own copy of Hero Status here. Also, follow Kristen on Twitter or her website.

A Writer's Go Bag

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 16 Oct 2015 04:25:00 +0000

Fellow writer Janis McCurry has some great ideas on preparing the perfect Go Bag. Good writers are always prepared to write.

A “Go Bag” is called by many names, some of which are Bug Out Bag 72-hour kit, a grab bag, a battle box, a Per-sonal Emergency Relocation Kit (PERK), a GOOD bag (Get Out Of Dodge). Per Wikipedia, this is a portable kit that normally contains the items one would require to sur-vive for seventy-two hours, when evacuating from a disas-ter (however some kits are designed to last longer periods of time than just 72 hours). The focus is on evacuation, ra-ther than long-term survival, distinguishing the bug-out bag from a survival kit, a boating or aviation emergency kit, or a fixed-site disaster supplies kit.

Cities have Go Bag websites for natural disasters so people can take items that will be needed if they have to evacuate. This NYC site which shows how to put one together. The commonality in all these bags is they STAY in the bag, so you don’t have to go searching for an item that you also use when in your house. In other words, double up items if you have to, but do not TAKE anything out of your Go Bag for your regular use. In a disaster, you might not have the luxury of time.

Writers are a peripatetic lot. We like to think all we need is our laptop/tablet and we can write anywhere. Maybe, but we could make it a lot easier on ourselves. I submit that a writer’s go bag would save you time and grief. How nice to be able to grab your bag from the closet and go. This is what I would keep in my Go Bag, assuming the only thing I would have to put in it was my writing device.

Flash drive

Notebook

Post-its

Pencil/Pen/Highlighter

Power cord/extension cord (what if your cord can’t reach the outlet?)

Portable power battery. You might be in the park or waiting for your child to finish sports practice and your battery runs out. (Zagg makes a great one that lasts at least 8 hours for those times there is no wall power source)

Snack, chocolate, whatever, just in case

$5 because you never know when you might want that Carmelizer!

What would you put in your Writer’s Go Bag?

Intrigued by the question I had to go and make my own virtual bag on Pinterest. My real bag isn't far off, just add my Chromebook. Best thing about this post though? Janis is the one that got me my writer's bag. You rock Janis!

I miss - Malcolm Reynolds

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 12 Oct 2015 15:28:00 +0000

I'm not a huge television watcher but when I do watch, I can be a complete fan girl. I look for gifs and fan fiction and Facebook Pages and tell all who will listen about my new character obsession. This reoccurring post is all about characters that have taken a permanent spot in my creative playground.

Malcolm Reynolds is the captain of the Serenity from the television show Firefly. The whole cast is nuanced and brilliantly created by the creative power force that is Joss Whedon. Toss in the superb acting chops of Nathan Fillion and you get a character who is fun, rebellious, and loyal.

I met several cosplay brown coats at Salt Lake City Comic Con a couple of weeks ago. It's loads of fun to chat them up and clue them into the comic books that they're missing out on. Specifically the ones that deal with the 'Hands of Blue, Two by Two' during the time between the television show and the movie.

Finding Reasons to Celebrate

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 11 Oct 2015 05:43:00 +0000

Today is National Coming Out Day and October is Queer Romance Month. Both great reasons to celebrate.

Invitations: To recognize, celebrate, and advocate love is love, Queer Romance has a whole site with great blogs and stories. Check it out.
Also, I request the honor of your presence. Stalk me by liking/following my Author Fan Page on Facebook, or GoodReads, or Amazon. Three more places to party.

Party Favors: G.I. Joe Holiday, my Navy SEAL Christmas story where Declan Mathews comes out to his family, is free on Smashwords. Don't use Smashword? No problem, comment below with the file type and I'll send it to you.

Toast: *thunks side of glass* I want to thank you all for coming. I was speaking to a mentor this morning about reoccurring themes in my writing. She says I write about outliers. The Amazons, Mightys, Blue Hairs, Navy SEALS, Bi-Sexuals, Gays, uptight accountants and rugged adventurers...People who are trying and succeed at finding their place in life, but only after they are brave enough to say, "I deserve, have earned, a right to a Happily Ever After. This is who I am and I'm proud." Let's give these brave souls around of applause.

Parting Gift: Bravery Not Included is now just $2.99 at these fine retailers. Amazon and Smashwords. The print version will be available by the end of the month.

Go forth and enjoy your gifts and thank you for coming.

Bravery Not Included - Excerpt

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 01 Oct 2015 02:52:00 +0000

Bravery Not Included launches my Amazon series. Here is the excerpt:

Being an Amazon didn’t automatically make you a morning person. “Whose idea was it to go so f’ing early?” Liesel Grant turned her head so her little sister wouldn’t see her stifle another yawn. She could always attribute the moisture in her eyes to the glare of headlights from other cars. Harriett saw anyway and laughed, the dork.

“It’ll give us more time to talk.” Harry grinned at her sister, annoyingly chipper and fully awake without the aid of caffeine. “This once-a-week get together has been canceled twice.”

Liesel could hear the hurt in her sister’s voice. “I really am sorry I canceled last week.”

“You’d better be. And you can prove just how sorry by buying breakfast.” Harriett kept her eyes on the road.

“Crap, Harry. I’ll do better—”

“What? Like it’s just you?” Her baby sister flipped her golden hair off her shoulder to look at Liesel. Then Harry looked back at the road and sighed. “How long since you’ve seen Karma for anything but babysitting? She doesn’t return my calls and I’ve not seen her for over a month.”

Liesel didn’t want to fight. The sun had to be up before people could fight. It was a rule. And if she tried to defend their older sister Karma, they’d fight. It wasn’t that she didn’t agree with Harriett. She did. But you stuck up for your sister.

Headlights flashed in their eyes again as they took the sharp corner. A Suburban ignored the twist in the road, popped the curb, hit the canal’s guardrail and kept going. The sound of steel folding like aluminum foil, ground down Liesel’s spine as the Suburban pushed through the metal barrier. The sound, like a fucking dog whistle, had all her senses on full alert. It switched Liesel to ready mode.

“It’s going in.” Her sister Harry shifted gears and turned the wheel on the old pickup. The central canal would be high and swift with ice runoff. Harry straightened out and headed for the space of missing rail, her headlights cut across the early morning traffic as other cars stopped along the roadside. Before the truck halted, Liesel had her seatbelt off and door open. Harry was right behind her.

The engine’s heavy weight had pulled the vehicle nose-down into the water. The back-end of the suburban formed a new dock which swayed as the rapid current battered at its sides.

“They’re not coming out,” Liesel whispered to her sister. Oh, please no. Was there a mom and her children caught in there, the cabin filling with water and fear? She needed to save them.

Harry touched her arm. “Just because you’re more powerful than a locomotive,” she kept her voice low and looked directly into Liesel’s eyes, “doesn’t mean you have to play superman. Let the trained professionals handle this.”

The addictive drive to run into danger was part of her inner wiring. Add a loved one into the needs-saving category and need turned into instinct-driven process, right along with breathing air and pumping blood. “Harry, promise you’ll stay up here.” The only reason she wasn’t already in that water was Harry.

Harry crossed her arms and glared. There was no time. Every minute the oxygen the passengers needed to live slipped away. Heat flashed across her chest and roared through her head. She needed to save them. Move, move, move. “Stay. Up. Here.”

Liesel jumped in feet first and scissored her legs to keep her head above water. It was cold. Colder than drinking-from-the-hose cold. Liesel’s chest ached as she drew in a sharp breath. Glacier runoff kicked summer’s ass every time. Her sister yelled directions up on the bank, “Let’s get your car turned around there. You too. Turn on your lights so we can see.”

The twenty foot wide canal was easily fifteen feet deep. The slanted cement sides had cracked from overgrown vegetation. Liesel swam to the rear of the vehicle and pulled herself up on top of the car. Her wet jeans sucked to her legs like frozen saran wrap.

The back door didn’t have a handle, so she punched the rear window and two thirds of the glass crinkled like a massive spider web. Her second punch was at a corner of the window frame, angled slightly so it would bend, giving her a hand hold. Liesel tossed the glass to the side and the vehicle groaned and swayed with a slow-to-accelerate motion as the pressure leveled out. The vehicle’s back-end tilted down into the water and Liesel took a deep breath preparing to go under with it.

Even with the headlights from above, she could see little of the interior; a black on black comparison of images. Flat black. Shiny black. Less black. She moved in the less black area and reached the first rear seat. It was empty. As the car finally settled to the bottom of the canal, she bumped against the ceiling and started moving parallel, feeling disoriented.

There was a car seat, but it was empty. Desperate for air, she pushed back through the vehicle for the surface. She surged out of the water like soda in a shaken bottle.

The group of early commuters had rallied Good-Samaritan-style and waited on the bank with blankets. Two large men lay over the edge on their bellies, arms outstretched, ready. Another breath and she went back to the vehicle.

Was there a child floating loose in the darkness?

Was there only a driver left?

More familiar with the lay of the land, she made better time into the vehicle. Her body had adjusted to the cold. The rest of the forward seat was empty. No one in the passenger side. She unclicked the driver’s seatbelt. He was big. Maybe three-fifty. Maybe more. She wouldn’t be able to pull him back through the rear of the vehicle. Not enough clearance.

How long had she been down here? The sense of disorientation grew and she panicked. It felt like a tangle of burrs clawed up her throat and her sense of reality blinked off like a television, fuzzy grey at the edges. When she opened her mouth, ready to breathe in, large bubbles rippled out around her and she fought the urge a second longer. Turning to face the large windshield Liesel braced herself against the ceiling and kicked the windshield loose.

She pushed for the top, her lungs opening up so large in her chest she felt her ribs strain to keep them in place. She coughed and sputtered as she reached open air, trying to remove water from her mouth and nose while sucking in oxygen for her empty lungs. The current had carried her and the car farther down the canal and the helpful bystanders were trying to establish climbing ropes closer to the new location.

Harry watched from the bank and, seeing that Liesel’s arms were empty, jumped into the water to help. Damn it. No.

Going back was hard. Her body told her there was no way she was going down again and she fought it.

The man had floated to the top of the SUV, a tangled twist of limbs. She grabbed hold of him under his arms and tried to pull him out but part of him caught on part of the car. Harry swam past Liesel’s right side, perhaps checking that the driver was the only one. Liesel gave a quick jerk and the man came free. She surfaced a foot from the rescue team.

“Is there any more?” someone asked.

“I don’t think so. My sister is down checking.” Her stupidly brave and completely non-amazon sister. Liesel grasped the high cement wall with her cold finger tips. She realized the psychedelic blur of colors wasn’t a precondition of nearly blacking-out but rather emergency lights from a fire engine. The cavalry had arrived.

She placed her feet in the cracks the old tree roots had battled into the sidewall. With the man over her right shoulder, she lifted them both up, using only her left hand and her feet. She handed him up, like a wet ragdoll, kept her hands in place until she was sure they had him.

Then she turned at the waist, more than half out of the water and looked for Harry. Surely she had come up by now.

Nothing.

The vehicle headlights illuminated the opposite bank. Nothing.

Oh, god no. “Harry!”

Want more? Buy the book at Amazon,

Marriage Most Convenient - Excerpt

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 16 Sep 2015 02:50:00 +0000

LUKE HAD to choose. He could wear the white polo shirt he’d mistaken for his towel and was covered in blood from his nose. Walk in to meet Tom looking like a horror movie. Or he could wear the team scrimmage shirt that showed off his stomach.

Travis from sales had dived elbow-first at his head, the
ass, and Luke’s nose had finally stopped bleeding fifteen minutes ago. Luke gripped the white, now mostly red, polo and looked down at his flat stomach. He’d worked hard to finally get the abs he’d always envied in others. With any other guy he wouldn’t think twice about covering them up. But this was Tom.

With little effort Tom would pull him into his latest adventure or scheme. A smile and his slow drawl and Luke would happily embrace danger. He’d never been hurt, not physically. He never regretted. But he worried and craved.

Luke rolled his shoulders. The scrimmage shirt made him feel exposed.

Tom had said it was urgent, and a round trip home meant forty minutes and a waste of gas. Luke climbed out of his car and looked down the row at Tom’s battered ’85 Land Cruiser. Definitely not the magazine-pretty version of a Jeep some people drove, but it looked like Tom had gotten the plywood replaced with an actual door.

The coffee shop was close to a Gold’s Gym and the playing fields. The clerks wouldn’t be bothered by his exposed abs. He tugged at the shirt anyway and adjusted his cutoff sweats so they weren’t too low on his hips before he walked into the shop.

Luke felt the tension pinch at his neck and regret roll through his chest. A coffee shop was a cold welcome to give his friend.

The smell of coffee stuck to the walls, the sound of the grinder pulsed at the counter, and blinds held the light back at the large windows. It was Thursday afternoon, and there were a few kids from the nearest high school. Well, probably high school kids. It got harder to tell the older he got. Maybe they were college kids.

Luke decided he shouldn’t feel guilty. If Tom really wanted to catch up they could head back to Luke’s house. Hell, the guy might need a place to stay if the apartment he owned was being sublet. There was no boyfriend to be pissed if Luke’s hot college roommate bunked in for the two months before his summer job started—or whatever Tom had in mind for summer. Last year Tom had been a rafting guide down the Colorado or did survival hiking tours for a vacation company or something like that.

Luke placed his order and had reached into his pocket for his wallet when a warm hand touched briefly on his bare lower back. “I got it.”

Luke would have protested Tom paying, to be polite if nothing else, but the combination of that voice and the physical touch short-circuited his central nervous system. He could only turn to look at Tom, who smiled charmingly at the female clerk as he handed her a ten. He turned to meet Luke’s gaze and dropped his hand from his back. His smile faltered, and then he thanked the clerk, stuffing the change into the tip jar on the counter.

“Thanks for coming,” Tom said to Luke, all solemn like they were at a funeral.

It was a 100 percent tip, and Luke was reminded of Tom’s generosity and his impracticality. Luke nodded and took his Frappuccino.

“You didn’t need to pay.”

Tom talked over him. “How have you been?”

And when they paused and tried again, they both spoke at the same time. Tom put his hand over Luke’s mouth and manhandled him to a table like an obnoxious older brother.

He had not forgotten how physical Tom could be.

Luke stuck out his tongue to lick the hand covering his mouth. Tom playfully bodychecked him as he pulled his hand away.

“Gross. So how are you?”

Tom sat across the little table and lifted his cup with two tea tags flipping against the side. He looked good wearing carpenter pants and a button-down lightweight flannel with sleeves rolled back. It was untucked and unbuttoned enough to show chest hair. The hair on top of his head was ridiculously curly, and he was currently in growing-out mode, the hair reaching past his shoulders.

Instead of answering, Luke reached to brush the hair off Tom’s face, and Tom jerked back. Yeah, Tom was a hugger and a toucher, just not a touchee.

“Nice shiner.” Tom pointed to Luke’s eye.

“Wait for tomorrow. I just got it.”

“Soccer?”

“Rugby with the guys from work.”

“Not singling you out for being gay, are they?” Tom said. He didn’t hesitate or lower his voice. He bristled in a defensive posture, chest expanding and forearms tightening as his hands curled into fists.

It was one of the reasons why they were still good friends. His straight friend supported him fully. Hell, it was beyond support. Tom fought for him.

Luke shook his head. “I’m good. How was—were you in California?”

“Naw. Park City, Utah. I ran the ski lifts. Mostly. And I taught a few snowboarding lessons. The season has been over for almost a month. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”

Luke could see that Tom was waiting for him to deny avoiding him. “Hear it’s nice there.”

“The town is a bit conservative, but it was all new people, which is kind of fun.”

“Good.” Luke sipped his frap and waited. The silence was stiff, and Luke couldn’t decide if he was trying to make Tom work for it or if he wanted to go down the crazy path he was sure Tom had in mind. Tom had taken him skiing in Aspen, deep sea fishing, and three whole weeks in California hitting all the theme parks. But those had been group trips with all the college friends before their numbers dwindled. The guys had moved away or married or both. The last few trips had been just the two of them. Wherever Tom worked, Luke went there on vacation.

“This can easily be fixed,” Tom said.

What? Luke blinked, hoping that extra clarity would clue him in to whatever Tom had rattling around in his head.

Tom lowered his voice. “All you need to do is tell me what I did wrong.” He leaned forward, kept eye contact to show he was actually serious. “I fix it or stop doing it and then you can stop avoiding me. Simple as that.”

Luke’s throat closed with guilt, and he looked away first. “I’ve missed you. You’re my best friend.” Then with a hurried breath, Tom said, “I know it isn’t mutual.”

Ah, man, he’d nearly fucked this up. And in his determination to make sure he thought all the words out before he spoke, his silence made it worse. “Or is this… are we just drifting apart?” Tom sounded rather resentful. He had every right to be pissed.

Luke took Tom’s hand, squeezed it briefly, and let go. “Who else would let me get all teary eyed and not freak out? Who else would take me to my first date with a guy and do the shovel speech? Of course you’re my best friend. We’re brothers.” Tom had always wanted a little brother. He’d shared that secret before he took Luke condom shopping for the first time. What guy was cool enough and accepting enough to support that first nervous foray into gay sex? He smiled at Tom and tried to convey with his eyes that it was all good with them.

“Okay, I’m calling bullshit. Tell me why you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding. I’m here.” As a true friend, Tom wouldn’t make him hash out his feelings. “Want to do dinner? Newest place is the Troubadour. Lots of eye candy for two unattached guys. My treat.”

“Did it not work out with Jacob? Was it the money thing?”

“Yeah, he didn’t like that I was younger but made more than him. If the reverse had been true, I wouldn’t care. But to be fair, envy wasn’t one-sided.” He shook his head and stirred his drink with his straw. He could taste the irish cream finally and felt most of the tension seep down his arms. He smiled at himself. Sometimes he was such an idiot. “For me it was that he had kids. I want some one day, you know? Right guy. Right time.”

Tom frowned and didn’t take the easy target to tease him. “Did you guys stay… friends?”

“Nay.” It had been long enough that he didn’t feel any ache thinking about Jacob. Relief and a few sexy memories was all the residual left from that relationship.

Tom cleared his throat, and Luke could see it coming. The dramatic call to action by the consummate carnival carnie. Hell, maybe Tom had even done that one summer. Luke wasn’t sure. But when he got going, he could convince you that the giant scary snake behind the circus tent wasn’t only the best show on earth but a must-see for all ages. Luke needed to support his friend without encouraging him down the wrong path.

“Luke, I need to ask you a favor.” Not his usual pomp and flare but okay. “It’s a great opportunity, an investment even.”

Luke laughed. “Time share? Though, okay, I got a trip to Vegas from a time share presentation. Property is a good investment, but all those fees….” Luke shook his head.

“Well, it does include a free trip to Canada,” Tom said with more of his mischievous spark.

“I can’t go to Canada.”

“Sure you can.”

“Well, sure, in a few months. Is that where you’re working this summer, or maybe a fishery in Alaska?”

Tom shuddered. “Uh, I hated that job. Long hours and lonely.”

Tom trusted Luke not to make fun of him. It acted as a reminder of just how much of a douche Luke had been to avoid him. Hell, Canada, here I come. His feelings were his problem, not Tom’s. Tom deserved a good friend.

Tom took a breath and started to peel at the cardboard holder around his cup. He had long fingers and a couple of jagged cuticles. When he’d touched Luke’s mouth, Luke had felt the rough, dry hands. Luke flushed with heat and lust and swallowed. He lowered his gaze to the safer view of the tabletop.

“I ever mention my Aunt Chelsea?”

In the fifteen years of knowing each other, it was a possibility, but not that Luke recalled. Tom had family but didn’t really talk about them much. His siblings were older. “Maybe.”

“Well, she left me some money.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“What? No, she’s been dead since I was a couple of months old.” He chuckled, and it sounded rueful.

“So the favor doesn’t involve property?”

“No, no, it totally does. Take a look.”

Tom pulled out his phone, and Luke was glad the guy was using it for more than a paperweight. He smirked, and Tom scooted his chair around to show him pictures. A waterfall. Tons of trees and a log cabin. They looked like they came from a travel magazine.

“Did you take these?”

“Yeah. Finally figured out the phone. Well, mostly. The distinctive ring won’t work. Everyone is Star Trek Tribbles, not just you.”

“That’s a bad thing?”

“Yeah, when I answer the phone, ‘’Bout time you called me back, fucker.’”

“No way.”

“I did. Luckily it was the friend I’m buying land from, and he didn’t even pause. I’m sputtering apologies, and he’s like, ‘Well, asshole, I promise to call more often.’”

Luke laughed, took the phone from his friend’s hand, and quickly defaulted all rings to the same sound, a Caribbean calypso with steel drums. Tom pressed into his shoulder to watch what he did, and Luke shoved him away, still laughing, feeling suddenly light and almost giddy. God, he’d missed Tom.

“Missed you.”

It was said so quietly he almost didn’t hear, and then he thought he might have spoken his own thoughts out loud. By the time he realized it was Tom, it was too late to comment. Tom took the phone from his boneless fingers and flipped back to the pictures. This one was a picture of Tom carrying a kid out of a raft, and then another with Tom’s arm around him as the kid sat in a wheelchair.

“Carlos. He was really athletic and active until a car accident paralyzed him, waist down. Still plays basketball but missed the other stuff. Horseback riding, rafting, rock climbing. And a lot of outfitters won’t take them. People who are differently able. I think the owners worry about liability.

“I want to run a resort. A place I can bring groups in, and not just disabled kids. It’s a nice enough place that we can charge plenty for the hunters and thrill seekers to pay for the nonprofit weeks. You could have a week of kids from the Northwest GSAs.”

“The Gay Straight Alliances?”

“Exactly. And Boy Scout groups and writing retreats and Buddhist monks.”

Tom was lit up like… bigger than Christmas. Like when they’d been in school and got the idea to blow up the trash cans at the sorority house. That, combined with the tearful joy of seeing each other after a full year apart.

And here Luke sat, letting his silence fuel this dream instead of advocating for caution. “My parents occasionally help a local rehabilitation riding group. Horses are awfully expensive to keep. Let alone feeding guests and paying a full staff. There’s a lot of details to manage. Are you going to use Aunt Chelsea’s money?”

Tom would overextend himself, or it would just all fall apart around his head and this raging joy would be crushed, broken. You had to have contingency plans for pipe dreams like that. Poor planning could burn the hope out of you and run you physically into the ground.

“Yeah, maybe. Hopefully.”

Did the bait and hook count when you bit knowingly? “What’s the holdup?”

“Well, the trust fund says I have to be thirty-five.”

When was his birthday again? “Last week.”

Tom grinned like a happy puppy. “Yeah, and the other stipulation is that I be married.” He stared at Luke like he was waiting for the ultimate rejection.

“So you’re getting married? Congratulations. Can I be best man?” Do I get to kiss the groom? He had always known Tom wasn’t interested. He’d resolved, almost immediately, that that was okay. Yet his friend was sexy hot, and he felt no guilt for the occasional lust-filled thought. He was human.

Tom shoved at him. “Best friend, so, yeah.”

He looked down at the table, and his hair fell into his face. Luke brushed it back, and Tom pulled away.

“So, she’s Canadian?”

“No, no she. See, there is a bit of a time crunch. I need to get married today.”

“So…. Vegas showgirl?”

“No, Canada, because they don’t require residency, medical tests, or have a waiting period.”

“Still sounds like Vegas would work.”

“Well, you see, I can’t marry you in Vegas.” Tom grinned like a loon.

Luke grabbed his tea and removed the lid to take a whiff. Not laced with whiskey.

“Luke, I’m serious,” he said but laughed at Luke’s stunned expression. “This property is a hot commodity. I need a marriage certificate in hand by Monday so I can access the funds a week from tomorrow, Friday.”

“What about a bank loan? Or, I’ve got some tucked away.”

“Fourteen point five million?”

Holy shit, what was his friend getting mixed up with? “You’re going to spend your whole trust on a—”

“Some of my trust. I tried the bank angle, and let’s face it, my work history doesn’t look reliable. Despite having a good credit score and never missing payments.”

“I can’t go to Canada. I don’t have a passport.” As the words came out of his mouth he realized he’d just stepped up to the ticket booth, just taken the red pill, just bit into Alice’s mushroom.

“All right, then, we’ll go to New Hampshire. Farther away but same marriage requirements.”

He shook his head. “Tom, wait.”

“I’ll pay you. Last e-mail said you were looking at buying a house. You can up your budget or put 20 percent down. I’ll pay you $750,000. For a month and a half of being married to me.”

That would seriously replace the amount Luke had lost on his 401k during the recession and pay for any of the houses he’d been looking at. I’ll do it. He swallowed the words and took a breath. Caution. “When would we leave?”

“We can be in New England by 8:00 a.m. and married by noon. We can fax the paperwork back here to my lawyer, and he can file the trust by the end of the day. That means taking the Boise to Phoenix flight at 8:00 p.m., a four-hour layover and crack of dawn flight to Boston.”

Luke blinked and tried to process the idea that Tom had it all planned out just in case Canada hadn’t worked. He could see from the light in his friend’s eyes and the set of his shoulders how important this was to him. All the more reason to be sure.

“Have you had the place appraised? What if it is a total money pit? Can you trust these people?”

“Luke.”

“You’re being foolish.” Or I’m being foolish. “Taking this sudden windfall and leaping without planning ahead.”

“Dude.”

“You’ve got to figure out the inheritance tax and start building—”

“I’m so glad you have faith in me. Forget it. I’ll ask the coffee shop girl.”

He stood up, and Luke stood too, stepped in his way. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I just don’t want people taking advantage of your generous nature.”

He reached up to push the hair out of Tom’s face, and once again Tom moved out of reach.

“I trust you enough to ask you to marry me. Trust me enough to know what I’m doing.”

They’d drawn attention, and Luke took a moment to scowl at the gawking teens before he softly said, “I’ll do it under two conditions.”

“I’ll pay you like I said.”

“I don’t want the money.”

Tom raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, I’ll take the money.” Luke stared at Tom’s mouth. He felt heat build in his gut, and he swallowed down a groan. He should have said three conditions or left it open. He rolled his lips together and swallowed. “I want to look over the contracts and help you set up the nonprofit and scholarships for the camp.”

“I was going to hire you as the business manager, so done. The second condition is a week for GSA, right?”

He wasn’t ready to commit to quitting his job without knowing the details. But they could work out a part-time agreement to start with, whatever it took to make sure Tom didn’t get swindled by con artists. That way Luke would be on hand to pick the pieces up and put his friend back together when the business failed. Tom put his hand on Luke’s forearm. Brief. A nonverbal yes, a touch to show he agreed, that he was listening, that he was engaged in their conversation. Too bad Luke’s body saw it as so much more.

“I want you to tell me why you can touch me, all buddy, but I’m not allowed to touch you.”

Luke was sure it was an unconscious thing. Tom would deny it at first or at least be surprised that he did it. Instead he grimaced and dropped his head.

Tom sat down and waited until Luke sat back down as well. Then he looked directly into Luke’s eyes. When they had first met he thought that was some sign Tom was interested. But he quickly realized that Tom did it with everyone. To show he was listening. Direct eye contact meant he was being honest and that he cared. Like all the touching, it was just an extension of the way Tom talked.

“You don’t try to touch me. You—”

“Now wait a minute. I just—”

“You try to touch my hair.”

What the hell?

Tom blushed and lowered his voice. “It’s embarrassing.” Luke leaned forward, and Tom sighed and said, “Hair is my kink.”

“What?”

“I find it really hot to have my hair played with. Really. Hot.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple rolling the length of his throat. “And having my hair pulled is an instant hard-on.”

He was bright red; even the tips of his ears and neck had flushed with color. A rush of heat piled into Luke’s crotch, and he could feel his body twitch in response. Tom kept his head down and looked up at Luke through his long hair. Hair that seemed all the more erotic with this sudden new knowledge.

“Is that why you grow it out?” A better grip for your lover.

“Can you imagine how embarrassing it is to have a hairdresser… with me packing wood…?” He shook his head. “Can’t do it. So I grow it out twelve inches and shave it off and donate it to Locks of Love.”

That didn’t surprise Luke at all. Tom would of course donate his hair to kids with cancer.

“So… even a stranger?”

“Yeah. Though when it’s someone I like….” Tom shivered and started to shred the cardboard holder of his cup again.

“Someone?” Luke asked.

There must have been something in his voice, because Tom looked perplexed, eyebrows all pinched forward as he searched Luke’s face. Probably a mirror of his own expression. How often had his best friend’s references been non-gender-specific? Luke had thought he did it to include Luke in the conversation. Snippets played a loop in his head, and he saw so many things from a different light. Tom had dated Kelly seven years ago, and if that prissy cheerleader hadn’t been born a guy, Luke would hand in his gym membership. He’d kept his jealous suspicion to himself. Everyone deserved a chance at love. And when they’d split, Luke figured that Tom had realized the truth. Maybe Tom had known the whole time. What if it was what Tom had said? That she didn’t want to be exclusive and it was important to him.

He didn’t doubt that his friend could openly accept others. But to date someone based solely on who they were as a person and not what body parts they did or did not have, that was a different level of amazing. And at the top of his thoughts, swirling in with his confusion and sudden rush of hope, was desire.

Luke couldn’t catch his breath. He imagined Tom on his knees, Luke buried to the hilt in his moist, expressive mouth. Luke would fist his hair as Tom moaned in pleasure. He’d tangle the curls around his knuckles, tightening his hold as they both got closer to the edge. Could Luke make him come from playing with his hair?

Tom pulled back and started to remove the expression on his face, tucking his emotions away to hide his hurt. Luke touched Tom’s arm to pause the full retreat and tried to work his mouth, tried to form words.

He couldn’t marry Tom. It was way too dangerous. Unless. Unless Tom was bi, or queer or hell, pansexual or whatever the hell it was called. Unless they could really act on this deeper connection. Then it would be worth any risk.

Luke said, “We’ll have to be at the airport by six thirty.”

I Miss - Danny Mahealani

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 15 Sep 2015 01:41:00 +0000

I'm not a huge television watcher but when I do watch, I can be a complete fan girl. I look for gifs and fan fiction and Facebook Pages and tell all who will listen about my new character obsession. Often they are minor characters that steal the show, who are clever or loyal or gorgeous.

Sometimes they don't stay on the show or the show is done, even though it lives in the hearts of fans. Here is a character I'm missing. Feel free to let me know about your favorite characters.

Keahu Kahuanui(as Danny Mahealani) from MTV's Teen Wolf.

Another Chance to Read

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 11 Sep 2015 14:40:00 +0000

The rights to G.I. Joe Holiday, a Christmas short story, reverted back to me so I'm indie publishing it. This will give new readers a chance at it's fine pages. Deck and Mason hold a soft spot in my heart because they were my first published work. I sold it a month before Do Ask, Don't Tell was repealed.

Here's the blurb:
G.I. Joe Holiday by Amberly Smith

Declan Mathews has two objectives after surviving Navy SEAL Hell Week: keep his secrets hidden and enjoy what may be his last Christmas with his family. But Deck’s holiday plans are shot to bits when his commanding officer orders him to sit for artist Mason Cartwright. How in blue
blazes is Deck supposed to stay safely in the closet when there’s a gorgeous, funny man staring at his ass for hours on end? It will take a Christmas miracle.

Here is an excerpt. Available, at the awesome price of $0.99, at Amazon.

G.I. Joe Holiday Excerpt

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 11 Sep 2015 14:39:00 +0000

DECLAN MATHEWS was raised on bad omens. His mom had once found a dead wren on the front porch, and the next morning a tornado shredded the house like confetti. His mom had said the wren was a sign, though Deck figured that being stationed in Kansas had been the bigger heads up. His parents saw it as a bad omen that he was born with blue eyes. That he, even from the beginning, had been different.

Today’s bad omen was from Chief Petty Officer Davis, who, like a judge about to deliver a verdict, wouldn’t look at the SEAL training class. Here came the chopping block.

Deck stared down at his hands, looking at the blisters and crusty red scabs. They looked better than his feet did, and there were no red and white lines up his arms to indicate infection, which was good. He was starting to feel dry along his shoulder blades, which meant it was time to go out to the surf and get “wet and sandy” before one of the cadre noticed and yelled at him to do it. The sand had chaffed his inner thighs as he ran the miles up and down the beach. A layer of calluses and a bowlegged gait worked to diminish the pain.

“We’re almost done,” Spencer, aka Speck, said next to him. He squinted at the wall clock, one eye swollen, a casualty of a log roll earlier that day.

“Still day six,” whispered Lowman, swaying back and forth in his chair. Deck didn’t think he was aware of the movement.

Deck didn’t know if Lowman or Speck was right. He’d lost count of the days. But they were meant to. Hell Week of BUD/S training to be a Navy SEAL was seven days with little food, plenty of running, sit ups, and a grand total of four hours of sleep. Seven days of being wet, sandy, and numb.

Deck looked again at Davis, who sat at the front of the classroom reading printouts. When he leaned forward to get a better look at the man’s face, he almost fell out of his chair. He jerked back upright but pulled too hard and bumped the empty desk behind him. The noise caught Davis’ attention, and he looked toward the door and then at Deck. Or rather toward Deck, because he still wasn’t making eye contact. Fuck.

Deck picked at his hand scabs and rolled his shoulders to loosen them up. He’d dislocated his left shoulder during first week of first phase, another log roll casualty. It was back in place but still felt off, like his muscles had wrapped around it too tightly to make sure it didn’t come out again.

If he were being cut from the class, they would send him to the review board to plead his case. He’d convince them to roll him back a class to try again. It meant doing another

Hell Week, but completing BUD/S training was the first step to receiving his Trident and gaining his freedom to be himself.

“Petty Officer Mathews,” Davis said. Deck stood and reported class numbers. All the officers had rung out or were rolled back for medical. That placed Deck in charge of the class even though he was enlisted. A week after high school graduation, he’d started his training to become a MA, master-at-arms, affectionately known and hated as “shore police.” Now he was twenty-four, and though he wasn’t the oldest in the class, he had the earliest enlistment date.

The six years had felt like an extension of his youth. His dad had retired from the Air Force. Uncle Stan was career military Army. And Great Uncle Mike, now a tough New York City cop, was a Marine for twenty years. Active duty was the Mathews’s religion. They were berserkers, men determined to protect family and freedom, in that order. They were part of an ongoing constant of hidden American history.

Deck finished his verbal report and sat back down.

“Men, this is the smallest class we’ve had in five years. What is this country producing? It sure ain’t Navy SEALs.” Davis shook his head and stared at his readouts, making the class sweat.

Deck’s stats were good—all but one: swimming. He scraped by on the timed swims. He sank like a stone, and his limbs felt like bricks battering at the water. But he was getting better. During Third Phase the time limits would be heavily cut, and until then he would spend every extra minute in the water. He wasn’t going to worry about that. He had to focus on the moment right now and on staying awake.

Davis said something about dedication, and the tadpoles ho-hawed in response. “You are secure.” Lowman broke out in Spanish, cussing, but it sounded jubilant. Frankie the Otter, their best swimmer, laid his head on his desk and sobbed. Deck watched their reactions and wondered what the hell was going on until he smelled the pizza. Then it clicked into place. They’d made it. Hell Week was over. And the first hot food they got in over a week, pizza from the Hut, was being passed among them by the box. Deck kept two larges for himself, there was plenty, and he needed the carbs, like now. He realized the salty taste was his own tears as he tore into his first slice and listened to instructions. He had no clue what was on the pizza. Didn’t fucking care. It was hot, and it wasn’t a Snickers bar that someone had hid in the head or stuffed in their gear. One more week of Phase One, and then a week off for

Thanksgiving before they started Phase Two.

He was the first Mathews to serve in the Navy, the first to survive Hell Week. Perhaps that would make up for being gay.

-#-

THE commander acknowledged Deck’s salute. “Congratulations on Hell Week, Mathews. At ease.”

“Thank you sir.” Deck soft-gripped his hands behind his back and waited to see why the commander had sent for him. He refused to read too much into it. He was too tired to do more than just respond appropriately. If the commander wanted hand springs, Deck was fucked.

“I’m glad to see your swim time improving,” the commander said, a subtle reminder of how close he was to not making it and that the commander knew all. The senior officer sat behind his desk. Sitting next to him was Chief Davis from Phase One and a civilian, possibly a contractor GS-13. Deck could just see him out of the corner of his eye. He could be a SEAL in street clothes, but if so he had impressively bad posture.

Deck nodded his head. “Sir.”

“I served briefly with your Uncle Ted in Desert Storm.”

“He’s family, sir, even if he is a Marine.”

Both Davis and the commander smiled at Deck’s joke. The commander tapped a knuckle on a manila folder on his desk. It probably had his whole family tree. All the way back to Lt. Jacob River Mathews, a cavalry officer during the Revolution. “I’m sure all the Mathews are saying the same about you.”

“That they are, sir.” The branch in-fighting had died down after 9/11, and there was a general sense of acceptance among his relatives and the different branches of the military. Until the Army played the Air Force in football, and then all civilities were blown to shit.

“We have a special project we would like you to consider.”

He’d just been told to jump; now he had to figure out in which direction and onto what. “Sir?”

“Some political heads have commissioned a war memorial for the new special warfare building at MacDill in Tampa.”

“Wasn’t that built five years ago, sir?”

“Seven. We’ve done our best to put it off as long as possible.”

The civilian in the corner laughed and slouched a bit further in his seat. Deck glanced at the man and then looked back at the commander. He wished he hadn’t looked. The man’s sexy smile had his whole body twitching with awareness. Deck locked down his response but fought off the retreat to full stone. If he overreacted, Davis would suspect something was up. He carefully moderated each movement.

“You going home to Idaho for the holidays, Seaman?”

“Yes, sir. My father retired north of Mountain Home Air Force Base.”

“Why Mountain Home?” asked the sloucher in the corner.

And since it was better to err on the side of regulations, Deck turned slightly to address the stranger. “Sir, it was their last station, and Mom couldn’t be bothered to move again.”

He laughed again and stood up before taking a step toward Deck. “Now I could definitely get used to a hottie like you calling me sir.”

Happy Release Day

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 26 Aug 2015 13:42:00 +0000

Marriage Most Convenient is now available from Dreamspinner Press!

Here is the author's letter, I wrote for the book:

When I first started working on Tom and Luke’s story, gay marriage was legal in less than ten states. It has been such a heart-rending experience to watch, to hope, to feel disappointment and victory as justice spread across America. Each time a state came to the right side, I watched and cried for those first couples in each place who got married. Idaho, where I reside with my family, finally granted the right to express your love through legal commitment for another person, no matter their gender, on October 15, 2014.

I considered rewriting the story, again, to align with the new laws in my state, but Tom and Luke refused. Stories are supposed to include a view of the time they were written; a reminder of where we have been, how far we’ve come. Tom and Luke would like to congratulate each newly married couple, no matter the gender pairing. Tom reminds you to be spontaneous, and Luke advises you plan for retirement. Me? After eighteen years of marriage, I can tell you it takes work, but it’s worth it. I get to wake up each day with my sexy best friend, the man who thinks I’m more amazing now than ever before.

Available now at: Dreamspinner, Amazon, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, Google Play and All Romance Ebooks

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 24 Jul 2015 05:57:00 +0000

Artwork by Reese Dante

Reese Dante did a beautiful job with my newest cover. Marriage Most Convenient will be out the end of August. Check back next week for an excerpt!

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 27 May 2015 17:54:00 +0000

Winner of the 20.00 in omni bucks from All Romance eBooks is H.B. Thank you everyone who participated in the hop and who left a comment or shared my blog on Facebook or Twitter.

Changing the Future

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 17 May 2015 04:00:00 +0000

Hi all! Welcome to Hop Against Homophobia, Bi- and Transphobia and my website. We are honoring the International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia (May 17th) with this blog hop and PRIZES!

What are Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia? I like Morgan Freeman's definition the best.

Let's talk about how we can change things! My background is in communications and when asked about homophobia, I usually talk about the inter-generational transmission of beliefs and target-specific stigma change. Which is fascinating, swear but a bit dry. So here it is boiled down a bit.

I believe that, as a writer, I can make a difference by having honest portrayals of LGBTQA characters in my fiction.

Simple, right? If we create -- mysteries and sci-fi and horror and romance -- books with reaffirming and realistic people that are from all areas of the LGBT+ spectrum, people will see the truth. If we treat the subject with respect, avoiding cliches and stereotypes, we'll overshadow all the hate. It can be done. It has been done. People have already changed the world, one story at a time, to influence race, religion, gender equality. More must be done through positive representation in media.

Do you remember Queer as Folk? Will and Grace? The Color Purple? They all have influenced the public beliefs or understanding of homosexuals. What about Brokeback Mountain? Laverne Cox? Philadelphia? And Tango makes Three? They've all shaped how the next generation sees gender and sexual identity.

Recently, I was featured on the Papercuts Podcast and we talked at length about the importance of representation in YA fiction. If you can't see yourself in the characters you read, how does that impact your self worth and identity? I believe we can drastically lower the teen suicide rate and homelessness by supporting LGBT representation in our YA fiction, especially in schools and local libraries. A really good resource for these books is http://www.gayya.org/. Listen to the complete podcast here.

Now for the goodies. I'm a huge fan of OmniLit and AllRomance, a distribution site for ebooks. They have a great selection of YA LGBT books including Sock it to Me, Santa! by Madison Parker (which I reread each Christmas) and The Soccer Field is Empty by Mark A. Roeder. Two of my favorites and books discussed during the podcast. I'm giving one winner $20.00 in Omni Bucks (the site's version of a gift certificate) and all you need to do to win is either comment on this blog post or share the post on Facebook or Twitter. Like three chances to win? Do all three. On the 25th, I'll announce a winner and email them the Omni Bucks.

There are over 50 writers, editors, publishers, and artists who are participating in this HOP! Go check them out. http://hopagainsthomophobia.blogspot.com/

Happy Anniversary Dreamspinner!

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 08 May 2015 06:00:00 +0000

In early 2010 I submitted my first M/M novel to Dreamspinner Press, Rinse and Repeat. Since then they've not only published that book but an additional three novellas and a short story. They help authors tell incredible stories and have made my dream of selling my writing a reality. Dreamspinner, your first 8 years have been impressive. May the next 8 break all expectations.

Dreamspinner wants to thank our readers with a discount on books, like mine, that published during their third and fourth year.

Story Promise - Article on Kuznya

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 27 Apr 2015 15:28:00 +0000

An article I wrote for Kuznya Freelance

http://kuznyallc.blogspot.com/2015/04/story-promise.html

How's my blurb

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 26 Jun 2014 01:18:00 +0000

Robin Connelly gave me solid feedback on Marriage Most Convenient query letter. What do you think?

Tom lives the life of a thrill-seeking nomad. Steady jobs and pensions are for people without trust funds. Now that Tom is 35 and able to draw from his inheritance, he plans to develop and run a full access retreat for disabled kids. You know, actually settle down. He just needs to convince his best friend to marry him first.

Luke’s goal is simple. Don’t go on one more crazy adventure with Tom. He’s trying to be realistic about his success rate so has a backup plan. Don’t fall in love. You see, caution prevents heartache. Plan C involves surviving when Tom leaves for his next adventure. Then Tom not only proposes but confesses to one seriously hot kink.

For their friendship to survive this marriage, they’ll need to face DOMA, conservative judges, and long held beliefs about each other. Talk about getting caught by the short hairs.

Thanks Robin!