Welp, I passed 5000
And by 5000, I mean five thousand actual sales, not including returns (God, those annoy me because I know a good percentage of them are people who are gaming the system to read new stuff then return it and get the price of purchase back) or giveaways. And by “I” I mean Empress of Storms.
The funny thing? I honestly can’t tell if that’s good or not. Some sources say that you need to sell 10K copies, but that’s if you’re with a major publisher. Other sources say that a self-pubbed book sells 500 copies on average, so in that case I’ve done really well. I dunno, Marty. I guess all I can do is keep writing and hope people like the new stuff as much.
Lord, I just realized — I have to finish Palace of Scoundrels, Do No Harm, and Behind the Iron Cross, get those out, write The Chevalier and get that out this fall, then start researching the historical M/M romance that my BFF suggested so that I can start writing it in November. Sleep? What means this word, sleep?
Mid Week Tease: Do No Harm #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, chumrades, and welcome to Mid Week Tease! This week I’m featuring another snippet from Do No Harm, where Daniel takes his first shower with Simon. Er, is it wrong that I keep hearing Mads Mikkelsen’s voice in my head when I write Simon’s dialogue? 😀
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
All Daniel Graff wanted to do on Christmas evening was finish his surgical rounds at Lakeside Memorial Hospital and go home. When he’s kidnapped from the hospital parking lot, he’s astounded to find out that his captor is also his colleague, world-famous neurosurgeon Simon Falk.
Simon has good reasons for his actions, but Daniel is determined to fight him every step of the way, bringing Simon’s Dom side to the fore. When he learns something very unexpected about his handsome captive, he decides to make Daniel his, no matter what it takes.
After finishing with Daniel’s legs and feet, Simon straightened and quickly shampooed his own hair. Reaching for the body wash, he paused as a marvelous idea occurred to him: why clean myself when I have a pet to do it for me?
“Here,” he said, handing the bottle to the patiently waiting Daniel. “Wash me.”
The surprised look on his pet’s face would have made him laugh in any other circumstance. “What?”
“Obviously I need to clean your ears more often. Wash me.”
Daniel gawked at him for another moment, then fumbled with the bottle, pumping a dollop of gel into his palm. “Do you—I mean, should I use a washcloth?” he asked awkwardly.
“Your hands are fine.” Simon spread his arms, resting one palm on the stall wall and the other on the sliding glass door.
Swallowing hard, Daniel rubbed the body wash between his hands to make it foam, then brought them to Simon’s pecs and rubbed in hesitant circles. It was too light, but the stroking sensation make Simon’s nipples pebble up. “You can use more pressure. I won’t break.”
“Okay.”
Simon raised a critical eyebrow.
“I mean yes, Sir.” The strokes became firmer as Daniel washed his chest and shoulders, focusing on the task at hand. Simon relished the tactile pleasure of being touched and the visual pleasure of watching his pet, lower lip caught between white teeth, serving him. The steam became perfumed with the body wash’s notes of cut grass, sweet wild fig and powdery sandalwood, adding an olfactory treat to the sensory banquet. His pet’s cock was still hard, and bumped against his own quickly rising erection.
He smiled when Daniel noticed it. “You’re, uh….”
“I’m hard, yes. Just as you are,” Simon said evenly. “Keep washing me.”
“Yes, Sir.” Daniel ran his soapy hands over Simon’s hips, but seemed reluctant to go lower. “Are you–I mean, do you want me to wash you everywhere?”
Meaning his groin. “Wash my legs and feet first,” Simon ordered. “It’ll be easier if you kneel.”
Daniel glared at him but obeyed, sinking jerkily to his knees. Simon added posture and movement training to the ever-growing mental list as his pet soaped his calves and feet.
Daniel’s hands rose to his thighs, then paused again. He stared up at Simon, wordlessly asking to be ordered.
“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Simon said, making his voice firm. “You know how to wash an uncut cock properly. So do it.”
Daniel’s shoulders squared and he reached for Simon’s groin. Cautiously skinning back the foreskin, he ran his slick fingers over the sensitive flesh underneath. Simon sucked in a breath at the sensation, balanced so sweetly between pain and pleasure.
Daniel finished cleaning the rest of the shaft, then focused on Simon’s balls, rolling each testicle in his palm as he washed the softly wrinkled sac. He paused, looking up at Simon. “What about your, uh.…”
“Anus?” Said, amused. “Really, pet, for doctor you seem to have a very difficult time naming body parts.”
Already flushed from the hot water, the color in Daniel’s cheeks deepened. “Fine. Do you want me to wash your perineum and anus?”
“You forgot my buttocks. But no, I’ll wash those myself.” Simon selected an unlabeled jar from the rack holding his toiletries and handed it to Daniel. “While you’re down there, however, you may bring me to orgasm.”
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I want a Whataburger and fries
On June 9th, I accepted something that I knew was very important to my health but simply didn’t want to face. I accepted that I have both Hashimoto’s thyroiditis and Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, two autoimmune diseases that have insulin resistance and weight gain as symptoms. I also accepted the fact that having these diseases means I simply can’t eat the same amount of carbohydrates as normal people can. A normal woman can eat between 175g and 200g of carbs a day and burn them as she goes. I eat 175g of carbs, and my body says, “What the heck are these things? How weird. Well, let’s just turn them into fat and store them somewhere tidy.”
So I made some significant changes to the way I eat. I consulted a nutritionist who recommended a Hashimoto’s eating plan to me, cut out 95% of the grains I ate, completely cut out all nightshades and soy, and bumped up my intake of lean meat, fowl, vegetables, some fruits (berries, mostly), nuts, and good fats like olive oil, with homemade protein shakes. At the moment my daily carb intake is 120g max, and usually a bit less. Almost three weeks later I’ve lost 10 pounds, I’m sleeping better, joint pain has gone down significantly and it’s a lot easier to walk. As far as I can tell, my body is finally functioning normally after 49 years of limping along with a skewed metabolic system, which is mostly nice.
The part that I can’t honestly describe as nice is how my new eating plan has also apparently joined with my reproductive system to gift me with things I’ve never experienced before, such as exhaustion during ovulation, as well as other things I’m not going to discuss here because, while normal, they’re a little gross.
Oh, what the hell, you’re all adults (and one of you is a nurse). So yeah, I just finished ovulating and I’m experiencing noticeable amounts of egg white cervical mucus. Or as I like to put it, vajayjay snot. Seriously, it looks like I blew my nose after a really bad cold and it came out my hoo-hoo. Apparently this is perfectly normal and indeed indicates that my ovaries have decided to release eggs instead of letting them cyst up on the surface, but I shall be discussing this with my gynecologist, you betcha. Because ew.
Another delightful side effect of my hormones going wacky (although I dunno if this is ovulation-related or perimenopause-related) is that I would cheerfully shank someone for a double Whataburger, a large side of fries, and something chocolate, gooey, and cakey for dessert. No, I am not hungry or depriving myself — I’ve have a metric buttload of food today, I’m finishing up a protein shake as I type this, and I could still eat another 400 calories’ worth of food if I wanted to. But dear Jesus, I want bread and potatoes. Hell, I’d give up the cakey stuff if I could eat some soft pretzels instead.
I miss peanut butter sandwiches. I miss bagels with cream cheese. I miss hamburgers on buns, and french fries, and the awesome sourdough bread you get as a starter at the Cheesecake Factory, and pad thai, and chips and salsa, and chicken verde enchiladas. I miss that stupid KIND vanilla and blueberry cereal that Ramón loves. I miss BBQ ribs and Hawaiian sweet rolls and potato salad. I miss naan bread and rice and edamame and sushi. God, I miss pizza so badly.
But I feel better. I don’t bloat up like a tick for no reason at all. My lower legs aren’t constantly swollen anymore. I still have the issue with the Achilles bursitis which makes walking a bit limpy, but it’s still so much easier to walk. I go to bed, and I sleep instead of staring at the ceiling because all my joints hurt. My brain is on-line all the time and I have more energy. And yeah, I’m starting to fit into some clothes that I haven’t been able to wear for quite a while. I’m seeing muscle definition in my arms and legs. My face is thinner. And the next time I go to the doctor for a renewal on my Synthroid scrip, I want a full blood workup done so that I can see how all my numbers look.
So yeah, I miss a lot of stuff. But the tradeoff is more than worth it. And cauliflower makes an awesome low-carb substitute for rice and mashed potatoes. And pretty much any vegetable becomes delicious if you oven-roast it with olive oil, garlic, and salt (and if you oven-roast finely chopped carrots with butter from grass-fed cows? OMG, so good). And I’m going to keep eating like this for the rest of my life, because I know it’s the right thing to do for my body.
But I’m going to have a Whataburger and fries on my birthday. Because birthday carbs don’t count. It’s a medical fact.
I’m #1 in Germany!
Well, okay, not me personally, but the German language version of Trickster is, in the Gay Romance category. If that’s not whoop-inducing enough, Trickster is also #162 in the Kindle Bestseller list!
Needless to say, I am VERY pumped about this. So if you like reading in German and want a sexy, hot, and funny M/M shifter romance (I think that’s what the reviews said — my German is seriously rusty), go get a copy!
Mid Week Tease: Do No Harm #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, chumrades, and welcome to Mid Week Tease! This week I have another snippet from Do No Harm, a story that started out as a potential entry for Evernight’s Dark Captive antho and quickly grew into a novel of its own. I love it when that happens.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
All Daniel Graff wanted to do on Christmas evening was finish his surgical rounds at Lakeside Memorial Hospital and go home. When he’s kidnapped from the hospital parking lot, he’s astounded to find out that his captor is also his colleague, world-famous neurosurgeon Simon Falk.
Simon has good reasons for his actions, but Daniel is determined to fight him every step of the way, bringing Simon’s Dom side to the fore. When he learns something very unexpected about his handsome captive, he decides to make Daniel his, no matter what it takes.
The first thing Daniel noticed when he woke up was the pewter light seeping through the windows, casting a moire pattern through the sheers. The intermittent tapping of ice particles on the glass reminded him of the weather forecast for a three-day blizzard.
Shit. I don’t want to go out in that.
The thought made him snuggle deeper into the mass of warmth cradling him from behind. And then he remembered who was providing that body heat. He reached up and touched the collar ringing his neck.
He wasn’t going outside for a week. He’d been kidnapped.
A soft chuckle caused the hair on his nape to rise. “I can tell you’re awake,” Falk murmured in his ear. “Your entire body just went rigid.”
It wasn’t the only part rigid. His trapped dick was making itself known inside the chastity device. “I just remembered where I was,” Daniel said through his teeth.
“Ha. And here I thought you wriggling your bum against me was an invitation.”
Daniel realized what the hot, hard shape pressing into his ass cheek was. Fuck. “I was asleep. It didn’t count.”
“Yes, I know. And you can relax. I don’t intend to fuck you this morning.” Falk uncurled from him. For a second he missed the soothing warmth. “We have a number of other things to do.”
I don’t intend to fuck you this morning. Implying that it would happen on another morning, another day. Daniel tried to drum up a sense of dread. Simon Falk had free reign over his body for the next seven days. He would have to do anything the surgeon wanted; allow himself to be beaten or flogged, crawl and beg, service him sexually.
At that thought the odd sensation of anticipation returned, adding a languorous note. Fantasies were one thing, but he couldn’t actually want any of that. Not in real life.
Could he?
“Up,” Falk ordered. “Shower first, then breakfast.”
A sharp ache from his cock reminded Daniel of the chastity device. “And you’ll take this thing off, right,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
And almost swallowed his tongue. By day, Simon Falk was the picture of stylish perfection, GQ-ready from his perfect hair to his polished shoes. First thing in the morning, however, that perfect hair was tousled, and his hazel eyes blinked sleepily. Even better, his cheeks and chin featured a silvered stubble, giving him a sexy, roguish look that went straight to Daniel’s cock.
He winced from the pain of the silicone sheath compressing his erection. “Please,” he added. “Sir. Seriously, it’s killing me.”
Falk grinned. “I doubt that. But you asked politely and used Sir. I like obedience in a pet.”
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Marvelous Monday Reads: Beauty in the Beast
Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, pumpkins! Today I’m featuring Elyzabeth M. VaLey and her yummy new erotic romance Beauty in the Beast. Take it away, Elyzabeth!
With a flick of a wand a pumpkin can turn into a carriage. If you meet an old man on the road and are kind to him, you’ll be rewarded with a golden goose, or great riches. An ugly duckling can turn into a beautiful swan… do you remember the stories that made you dream? The stories that made you believe that anything was possible? The stories in which good always won over evil?
Yep, I’m talking about fairy tales. We’ve all read them, seen them, heard about them, in one way or another. I love fairy tales and when Evernight Publishing announced its submission call for a line of Naughty Fairy Tales, I knew I had to participate. The Golden Cock came to life together with a whole new world full of possibilities: The Witches’ Mischief series.
For centuries Soussanna Wiles has created strife in the world, but her powers have unleashed a force that can only be contained with the help of another: her daughter, Morgana. Now, the darkness is coming and the women must unite forces to fight against it with the strongest magic ever known: love.
But will it be too late?
Beauty in the Beast is the last book in the series. Now, is the time for good to prevail over evil… but will it?
In any case, don’t believe the myth that fairy tales are only for children. They’re for adults too and below is a list of things you’re going to love about these magical stories.
Top Ten Things to Love about A Naughty Fairy Tale (and The Witches’ Mischief series)
- Fantasy. Magic. Flick that wand. Show me some powers, baby. Soussanna Wiles knows how to use her magic to seduce and tease.
- The ancient powers of good versus evil are back. There’s a dark presence that looms over the world in The Witches’ Mischief series. That means…it’s adventure time, sweetheart!
- Did someone say adventure? Yep! Live it up with the characters. Get into a sword fight, climb out a window, outrun a group of thieves, run naked through a forest, and fight the shadow that threatens to destroy us…
- Speaking of naked, the key here is in the naughty. These aren’t kids running around. These characters are adults with needs. Things can get heated up before you can say abracadabra. The big bad wolf can be a Dom, the three little pigs can be three women, a bear can be a shifter, and a cock can have magical proprieties…
- Hot sex. Scorching hot sex.
- Humans, paranormal creatures, whatever they are, they have feelings, emotions, things we can relate to because we feel them too. For instance, Simon, the hero in Bear Heart carries heavy guilt in his heart for his past deeds. On the other hand, Christopher Bexley, the hero in Beauty in the Beast is more of a trickster at hear.
- The hero doesn’t always rescue the heroine. Sometimes it’s the other way around. Whatever the order, there’s always love. As Morgana the witch says: Love is power.
- Everything is possible in the fairy tale world.
- There’s a HEA. Of course there is a Happily Ever After. What kind of fairy tale would it be if it didn’t have one?
- These stories are all about hope and in this day and age we all need some more of that, right?
What are your favorite things about fairy tales?
Morgana Wiles has spent her life, alongside her mother, fighting against the arrival of the creature known as The Darkness. Unfortunately, neither of them were able to stop him and now he’s here, ready to destroy all that is good in the world. Morgana must face him, but now that the time has come, she finds that things are not as simple. Her mother is gone, self-doubt is creeping in, and her visions are unclear. To make matters worse, a man with evil intent has entered her life and is bent on complicating her mission. Will she be able to resist him in time to fight The Darkness or will she succumb and become that which she despises?
Christopher Bexley is no gentleman. He enjoys trickery, deceit, mischief and above all seduction. Sexual intercourse is the greatest source of power there is or at least there was, until he heard about the Gem. Now that he has discovered there’s a stone that can make him the most powerful magic user of all time, he must have it. The only problem is that the only other person that might know where it is, is a stickler for rules and being good. Morgana is too innocent for his liking, and there’s only one thing he can do to change that: corrupt her.
Story Excerpt
“Going anywhere, little one?”
She stared at Christopher. His hair was all over the place, his robe open to reveal a chest smattered with dark hair. His eyes glistened deviously, matching his grin.
“Are you keeping watch over me, Mr, Bexley?” She crossed her arms over her chest, hoping that he couldn’t see her beaded nipples.
Christopher laughed.
“No such lucky, Miss Wiles. I thought I heard a noise and came to investigate.” He looked her up and down. Her cheeks burned. “I suppose you heard something, too, or you would have dressed more appropriately before coming out of your bedroom.”
She hastened to cover herself up. Sweat dripped down her back.
“Don’t do it on my account, I’m quite enjoying the view.”
Morgana scowled. Where was this heat coming from? “No. I couldn’t sleep. I’m waiting for Anne.”
“Are you? I haven’t seen her since we arrived”
She licked her lips. She needed a fan. Christopher shifted his weight and it hit her. It was him. His energy was like a hot ball of fire. Like an animal that had come from a hunt, or from a run. Primal. He took a step toward her. His robe shifted, revealing more of his chest. How would it feel to run her fingertips across his flesh?
“Yes.”
“Are you all right? You seem flustered.”
“I’m fine.”
Christopher raised his eyebrows.
“I’m fine,” she repeated. She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I’m just tired.”
“Maybe you should try and get some rest. If you can’t sleep, I’ll be happy to hold you.”
“Like you’re holding the woman in your bedroom? I think I shall pass down your offer, Mr. Bexley.”
He shrugged. “Your loss.”
He started to turn around but stopped. “You know, Miss Wiles, I don’t think your rejection sounded very convincing.”
Morgana stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
Christopher’s eyes lit up as he sauntered toward her. Morgana backed up against the wall. He crowded her against it, placing his arms on either side of her head.
“You’re smothering me.”
“Good.”
“Mr. Bexley, this is—”
Christopher dipped his head so that she was staring into his eyes. They were the color of crushed pine needles. “Mr. Bexley this, Mr. Bexley that.” He gently grabbed her chin. Her heart skipped a beat.
“You’ve been watching me, little one. Watching me and wondering about my energy. I can tell a woman’s, a witch’s curiosity, and you are dying to know what my energy feels like. Will it really make you feel more powerful? Will it hurt you? Is it what you need to defeat that dark thing you’re so afraid of? I don’t have the answer to any of that, but I can tell you the surge of power you feel when you share your body with another human being. It is amazing. Your powers will be heightened, and you will have the ability to be faster, stronger, and to learn things quicker.”
Morgana swallowed. She should get out of here now that she could, but she was mesmerized. Yes, she was curious, but she knew better than to be led on by a man like him. She took in a deep breath, determined to say something witty and be rid of him. Instead his scent curled around her. He smelled musky and masculine, different from anything she knew.
“I’m going to kiss you now, Morgana. I’m going to kiss you and show you an inkling of what this feels like.”
His lips mashed against hers before she could think to protest. Morgana froze. They were warm and soft. He pulled back a bit and kissed her again. Her eyes drifted shut. Christopher put his arms around her and pulled her closer. He took her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged. She gasped. Her heart hammered against her chest. Butterflies rushed throughout her body, touching her with their wings and making her fly. She wound her hands into his hair, the silky strands slipping against her fingers. His tongue wormed its way into her mouth, curling around hers. Sparks danced behind her eyes. She arched her back and moaned. She could feel the outline of his cock beneath his robe. Liquid fire rushed to melt between her legs. Her swollen nipples rubbed against the material of her gown, begging for attention. Energy crackled between them. She could hear it, feel it, and taste it in his kiss, in his touch. It was palpable. Christopher slid his hands down her waist, over her hips. She held her breath. He tugged her bottom lip between his teeth. She groaned, following his mouth even as he pulled back. He grasped her chin and tilted her head. Morgana opened her eyes. Christopher looked at her as if bewildered. His brow was furrowed and though desire still shone deep in his eyes, there was also something akin to amazement.
“What?”
He blinked and the moment was gone. His eyes lightened and he grinned mischievously. “There you have it, little one. The power of a kiss.”
Where to Buy
Evernight Publishing
All Romance Ebooks
Bookstrand
Amazon US
Amazon UK
About Elyzabeth M. VaLey
Considered weird by normal standards – what is normal anyway? – Elyzabeth M. VaLey enjoys making up songs about mundane things, doodling stars and flowers on any blank sheet of paper, talking to her Lab whenever he feigns interest and coming up with love stories to make readers dream.
From contemporary to historical or fantasy, she enjoys writing stories about good and evil, love and passion and all that comes in between happy ever after.
Blog | Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest | Beauty in the Beast Pinterest
Mid Week Tease: Do No Harm #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, chumrades, and welcome to Mid Week Tease! This week I’m featuring a snippet from Do No Harm, a story that started out as a potential entry for Evernight’s Dark Captive antho and quickly grew into a novel of its own. I love it when that happens.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
All Daniel Graff wanted to do on Christmas evening was finish his surgical rounds at Lakeside Memorial Hospital and go home. When he’s kidnapped from the hospital parking lot, he’s astounded to find out that his captor is also his colleague, world-famous neurosurgeon Simon Falk.
Simon has good reasons for his actions, but Daniel is determined to fight him every step of the way, bringing Simon’s Dom side to the fore. When he learns something very unexpected about his handsome captive, he decides to make Daniel his, no matter what it takes.
Daniel noticed the movement first. The soft vibration of the road, broken by the occasional bump. Warm air caressed his face, scented with clean leather and the faint tang of long-chain monomers. The custom air of an expensive car.
He opened his eyes, and blinked. It took a moment to resolve the pointillistic study of grey and white in front of him into a windshield.
Snow. It’s snowing.
“You’re awake. Good.”
Still blinking, Daniel tried to turn his head. A sharp ache along the front of his throat convinced him that wasn’t a good idea. “Where am I?” he croaked.
“Specifically? My car. If you mean location, we’re on McKinley Road, close to my home.”
The voice. He knew that voice.
Daniel’s vision finally cleared, allowing him to see the man behind the wheel. “Simon?”
“Good, you’re back.” Simon Falk gave him a brief smile but kept his eyes on the road. “Forgive my rudeness. The weather is getting worse, and I don’t want to hit anything.”
“Uh.” Daniel tried to work through the cotton still blanketing his mind. The last thing he remembered was heading out to his car, and then—
—choking, a struggle, darkness.
“How—” he paused, dredging up some saliva, “did I get in your car?”
Falk’s lips pursed. “I’ll explain when we get home. How’s your throat?”
Home? “My—” Daniel tried to lift a hand to rub his throat, and couldn’t. Looking down, he saw that someone had taken off his parka and put both his hands in a sort of leather mitt. Each mitt was mated to a belted cuff with D rings; those were clipped to a belt that now ran around his waist. He tugged experimentally, then harder. His arms were immobilized. “What the hell?”
“I didn’t want you to panic and try to get out of the car when you woke up,” Falk explained. “Your feet are secured with cuffs, as well.”
With a dim sort of horror, Daniel leaned as far as his seat belt would allow and spotted more leather wrapped securely around his ankles. “What the fuck are you doing?”
The other man’s expression was calm, even serene. “One. Now, tell me what you remember.”
Daniel opened his mouth, then hesitated. Someone had grabbed him, choked him into unconsciousness. Now that he thought about it, it had been done with what could be called surgical precision.
Falk’s hands rested easily on the steering wheel. Large hands, exquisitely talented with a scalpel, they were connected to arms that were long and strong enough to wrap around his neck.
He swallowed again, more easily this time. “Did you—” It was crazy, totally unbelievable. But he had to ask. “Did you mug me?”
Falk’s expression remained serene. “I wouldn’t call it mugging. Your wallet is still in your pocket and your computer bag is in the back seat. But if you’re asking whether I choked you until you passed out, then yes, I did.” A corner of his mouth lifted, the briefest of smiles. “I apologize for the method, but I didn’t have time to acquire a tranquilizer and syringe. I was very careful, I promise. You should be fine by morning.”
Daniel stared at the other surgeon, trying to understand what he’d just heard. Falk seemed calm, perfectly normal. And yet he’d just admitted to assault, as if it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “Why in God’s name did you choke me out?”
Falk sighed. “I didn’t think you’d get in my car otherwise. I’ve done it before with others so I knew what I was doing, although I apologize for any residual pain I may have caused.”
Residual pain. That was the last thing Daniel was worried about. “Pull over and take off these cuffs.”
Now Falk spared him a brief look. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“You speak English, yes? No, I will not take them off. Not until we get to the house.”
A spike of fear punched through Daniel’s anger. “This is kidnapping. Goddamn it, Falk, you’re kidnapping me!”
“Two. And I prefer to think of it as protective custody, but call it whatever you like.” The neurosurgeon’s expression changed now, turning sober. “I have reasons for my actions, Daniel, very good ones. I know you have no reason to do it, but for now you’re simply going to have to trust me.”
Daniel could feel his mouth drop open, and shut it with a snap. “Trust you? You choked me into unconsciousness, kidnapped me, and now I’m supposed to trust you? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”
“Three. And no, I’m not. Now please settle down. We’ll be home soon.”
Fists clenched in their leather mitts, Daniel sat back in his seat and fumed. Falk had a good two inches on him and at least thirty pounds, all of it muscle. With his hands and feet immobilized and a seat belt holding him down, the most he could do was lunge sideways and hit Falk in the shoulder with his head. I might be able to bite him, distract him.
A strong gust of wind drove snow against the windshield, reminding him of the weather outside the car. If he distracted Falk now, they’d probably go off the road. Even if they didn’t hit anything and just landed in a ditch, Falk could simply get out of the car and walk away, leaving Daniel behind to freeze. He said he had good reasons for doing this. It’s not like he’s a serial killer, for God’s sake. He’s a world-famous doctor.
Daniel shuddered. Yeah. So was Hannibal Lecter.
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Bloody hell, it’s hot
Technically we haven’t had our first official three-digit day in the clavicle of Texas yet, but the heat index makes it feel like 107°F out there at the moment. Why yes, I know this because I just went shopping like an idiot in the hottest part of the day, why do you ask?
But I shan’t complain. People who have to work outside in this heat have it much tougher than I do, and my heart and appreciation goes out to them. And frankly it’s far worse out in the west proper, where it’s predicted to get up to 119°F in Phoenix on Monday. I think the highest temp I ever experienced in Dallas was 116°F back in 2006 or so, and we had rolling blackouts to handle the A/C load. I’m hoping that doesn’t happen again (and I am SO glad we got the furnace replaced in spring since its fan runs the entire house’s cooling system) but this is only June and we have two more months of summer ahead of us here.
But there’s no such thing as global warming. Oh well — I can always remember this flashback to March 2015. Yes, we do occasionally get snow in Dallas. Could’ve used more of that this year.
A little quiet here in Casa Cameron
Sorry for the radio silence. I’ve spent the last couple of days watching the news about the Orlando shooting and having what I will politely term as “discussions” with people about why AR-15s do not belong in civilian hands. A word of warning; if you are someone who does believe that we all need assault weapons because of the people’s militia/Second Amendment/gotta protect myself from the government, please go away. I’m not interested in your Founding Father gun porn dreams about “good guys with guns.” And I will delete any comments to that effect.
While I didn’t lose a friend or loved on in the shooting in Orlando early Sunday morning, I do have friends who live there, ones whom I wasn’t sure hadn’t been at the club until they all checked in later that day. That is a sensation I would not wish on anyone. I can’t even imagine how it must have felt for the family members and friends who did have someone who had gone to Pulse that night, who were still waiting to find out whether or not that person was alive or dead.
49 of those families are now facing the task of burying a loved one. Claiming the body and arranging for a funeral is bad (and expensive) enough, but there’s all the other stuff that happens after someone you love dies. Cleaning out their home and trying to figure out what to do with their belongings. Finding a home for their pets. Closing out their social media accounts. Dealing with bill collectors wanting to know why the last credit card payment hadn’t been made (and suggesting that since you’re family, it’s your duty to take on that debt. Just so you know, you are not legally liable for a non-spousal loved one’s debt if you didn’t co-sign on it.)
These 49 families not only have to deal with all that, they have to deal with certain religious individuals (I won’t sully the title “pastor” by giving it to them) celebrating their loved one’s death and calling it “community service.” They have to deal with getting sucked into the ongoing debate about gun control. In a few cases, they have to deal with the fact that their loved one was gay and was too afraid to tell them.
I don’t even know where I’m going with this. All I know is that I’m sad and angry that 49 people were violently murdered by one small, vicious, self-hating person, and delighted as hell that Democratic representatives started shouting “Where’s the bill?” after yet another useless minute of silence, and that Democratic senators are even now filibustering in the Senate to demand new gun laws.
Sandy Hook. Virginia Tech. San Bernardino. Orlando.
Mass shootings like these don’t happen anymore in Canada, or Australia, or New Zealand, or the UK. They’ve got to stop here.
If you’re an American, please vote in November and help stop the next massacre before it happens.
And they wonder why “Big Publishing” is crumbling…
So I was reading an article at io9.com, as you do, about important SF books that lots of people pretend to read and never actually finish. As it turns out I’ve already read a number of them, so there, nyah, but I thought I would download some of the ones I haven’t read and take a crack at them (because I still write SF and fantasy when I get the time).
Headed over to the Big River, plugged in a title, and holy mother of Cthulhu. I’m sorry, and this is me speaking as an author, but ain’t no way I’m paying $15.99 for an ebook. I don’t care who wrote it or how important they are in the field. IT’S A ELECTRONIC FILE. Publishers don’t have to print, store, ship, or remainder ebooks. An ebook isn’t made from unicorn farts and fairy dust. IT’S A FILE.
What flavor of crack are the Big Five smoking, anyway? No wonder New York publishing is going straight to hell. They have no idea how to price their product so that people will buy. One of the biggest selling points about ebooks is that they lend themselves very well to impulse purchases. You can read about a book online, think, “Oh, that sounds interesting,” pop over to your favorite online retailer and have it downloaded to your reader in milliseconds, usually for the price of a Starbucks. No one blinks at a $3.99 ebook. $4.99 and $5.99 are starting to get up there, but are perfectly reasonable for longer works. If it’s an author I really like and want to read, I’ll go up to $8.99. Any higher, however, and I have problems rationalizing paying that much money for, say it with me, AN ELECTRONIC FILE.
And the worst part is, I have author friends who have been caught up in this egregious fuckup and are being dropped by their publishers because their “sales are too low.” Yeah, well, maybe if their publishers weren’t charging $11.99 for AN ELECTRONIC FILE those sales might perk up, hey?
In related news, it looks like I won’t be reading Gravity’s Rainbow, Dhalgren, or Infinite Jest any time soon. But I’m increasingly happy that I decided to switch to romance and be a hybrid author with a house that knows how to price its ebooks affordably.
Nicola Cameron Writes 