Blog Archives

I’m baaaaack

And in case you were wondering, yes, the flu strain that’s going around this year is indeed a stone bitch. Next year I’ll get the shot, I promise.

But I’m back, and upright, and I’m even banging out words on the keyboard. That being said, I was supposed to have To My Muse finished by the 26th. Ho ho ho. So now I’m looking at 2/15 as a finishing date with a release sometime in March. Sorry about that, but it’s hard to write when you just want to stare at your bedroom ceiling and die quietly. Once Muse is done, I’ll get to work on King of Blades (Two Thrones 4). In fact, here’s the schedule for the year:

  • To My Muse (contemporary romcom novel – standalone)
  • King of Blades (fantasy romance novel – Two Thrones)
  • Cross Current (fantasy romance novel – Olympic Cove)
  • Uncertainty Principle (SF romance novel – Pacifica Rising)
  • Shifter Woods: Snarl (paranormal romance novella – Esposito County Shifters)
  • Shifter Woods: Scream (paranormal romance novella – Esposito County Shifters)
  • Untitled holiday story (fantasy romance novella – Two Thrones)

So that’s four full-length novels and three novellas, which is pretty good output if I do say so myself. And of course there’s one half-finished novel and two that I have covers for and still have to plot out. Sleep? What means this word, sleep?

Did I mention I’m also making more jewelry? We’re talking stuff that needs to be soldered and polished — two amethyst cabs and one green turquoise one that will be made into a bracelet for my BIL. So many sparklies!

And in case anyone is wondering, making stuff is part of my writing process. I’ve learned that if I do nothing but write, I jam up and can’t get anything done. Thus, crafts. Also another income stream, which is always good.

Mid Week Tease: Cross Current #MidWeekTease #MWTease

Mid Week Tease buttonIt’s Wednesday? Awesome! Because I have a little teaser for you from Cross Current (Olympic Cove #4). Matt Taber, my divorced history teacher who just wanted to spend a couple of weeks on the beach before school starts, has just learned that he’s living next door to Poseidon and his mates Amphitrite and Griffin, mermen and selkies are real because one of each just showed up on the beach with the Oracle of the Waters, and things are never going to be the same for him again. Muwahahaha…

Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!

Matt’s tentative knock at the green cottage’s door was met by an unsmiling Griffin. “Hi. Welcome to Greek God Central.”

The repetition of Atropos’s phrase from his dream sent a chill down Matt’s spine. “Hi. Pythia said that I should talk to Amphitrite?”

Griffin moved to the side, letting him in. “Right. She and Poseidon are busy with Donald at the moment. It might be awhile.” He gave Matt a sympathetic smirk. “How are you holding up?”

That was a damned good question. “I kinda feel like I got sucked into an episode of Stranger Things,” Matt admitted. “Apart from that, I seem to be okay.”

“Good on you, mate.” The Englishman took him into the kitchen, where he pulled two brown bottles out of the fridge and handed one over. “This’ll help.”

Matt noted the microbrewery label. “I thought Brits didn’t chill their beers.”

Griffin scoffed. “We do when we’re in Florida. I take it Nick gave you the scoop on what’s been happening here?”

“Crazy goddess trying to destroy Earth, a bunch of gods and other mythological creatures fighting her, yeah, I know.” He twisted off the bottle cap and took a welcome swig. “I’m not involved.”

“I’m not arguing. I’m new to the whole thing myself.” Although the knowledgeable look in the Englishman’s eyes gave lie to his words. “How are your guests doing?”

When Matt had left his cottage, the doctor had been asking the mer about how far they’d swum. “Nick’s treating them, I think. The blond guy’s really a merman?”

“Yep, just like Aidan and Liam. You can probably talk them into going for a swim and showing you their tails.”

“Yeah, no, that’s okay.” He leaned against the counter, rubbing his thumb over the cool, sweating surface of the bottle. “I’m thinking maybe I should go back to Jupiter. If I can’t get my deposit back, I can crash with a buddy until school starts.”

The Englishman folded his arms, leaning against the opposite counter. “If that’s what you think you should do, then do it. Nobody’s going to keep you here against your will.”

Amphitrite picked that moment to appear, looking concerned. “Oh, good, Matt. You’re here. Donald wants to speak with you.”

Matt straightened up. “Donald?”

“The Oracle of the Waters. Tall man, white hair and beard, came out of the water with our other guests?”

A faint wash of dread tingled down his spine. He tried to get his tongue to work properly. “I—why does he want to talk to me?”

“I don’t know,” the goddess said, exasperated. “That’s something you’ll have to discuss with him.”

She gestured towards the hallway she’d just exited. Feeling like he was walking towards a firing squad, Matt reluctantly headed deeper into the cottage. Soft voices were coming through an open doorway and he peeked into what was clearly a guest bedroom

Inside, the old man from the beach had been dried off and tucked into bed, wet clothes piled on a chair next to the bed. Poseidon stood over him, handsome face lined as he listened to the man’s words. He glanced up at Matt’s arrival. “Oh, good, you’re here. Donald needs to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Matt edged into the room, studying the occupant of the bed. The man looked to be about seventy, with Santa Claus-white hair brushed back from a high forehead and a slightly overgrown beard hiding a craggy face. His eyes, however, were his most notable feature. Pale as sea glass, they seemed to burn in that pale face.

“Ah. Matthew,” the man said, a faint lilt coloring his voice. “You’re quite the difficult man to track down.”

Dunn—no, Poseidon—turned and considered him. “You’re going to want to listen to him, Matt.”

The affable host from last night was gone. Replacing him was a being who radiated power and authority like nothing Matt had ever experienced before. Every rational cell in his body screamed at him to turn around, leave, jump in his car and head north until he was out of reach of the divinity standing in front of him.

Instead, he stepped forward. “Amphitrite said you wanted to talk to me?”

The sea god left, and the old man chuckled wearily. “Poor Poseidon. I don’t think he ever expected me to impose on his hospitality. But if Mohammad won’t come to the mountain, the mountain must come to Mohammad.”

More of the Fates’ words from his dream came back. “Are you talking about my trip to France?”

“Yes. You were supposed to visit Marseilles, you see. While you were there, you would have found your way to my cavern and I would have begun your instruction.”

Another of those cold washes of dread trickled down Matt’s spine. “Whoa, wait. Instruction? For what?”

“To replace me as the Oracle of the Waters.” Another ferocious smile. “I’m not actually immortal, you see. Just very long lived. But even my life is winding to a close, and someone must take over my position and my responsibilities. And out of all the mortals on this planet, I’ve chosen you to do that.”

****

Ten minutes later, Matt slammed back into the cottage and stalked into the kitchen. Grabbing the bottle of Scotch from the counter, he found a glass in one of the cabinets and poured himself a triple. He barely felt the liquor as he swallowed it in two huge gulps.

Nick materialized, pausing in the doorway. “I take it that didn’t go well?”

Matt glared at the doctor. “That’s a fucking understatement, my friend.”

“Okay. Well, it’s never a good idea to day drink alone, so…” Nick pried the bottle out of his hand, then grabbed another glass and poured himself a reasonable single. “You’ve been given your marching orders?”

“Marching orders? Marching orders?” His voice rose to a bellow on the last phrase. “Do you know what that old hippie in the cottage over there just told me? Apparently I’m the new Oracle of the Waters.” He started to pace the length of the kitchen, clutching the Scotch glass like a life preserver. “I’m supposed to give up everything in my life and go live in a fucking cave on the coast of fucking France so that fucking sea creatures can come and get me to consult with the fucking Fates on their problems.”

“Huh. Yeah, that must have come as a surprise.” Nick took a sip of his Scotch. “Is it the cave part that bugs you?”

The sheer laid-backness of the doctor made Matt want to throw the glass at a wall. “What’s bugging me is that I came out here for two weeks to get over my damn divorce before I have to go back into the trenches. And suddenly not only do I get dragged into some sort of weird-ass battle against a crazy goddess, but I’m supposed to become the supernatural world’s version of Dear Prudence. In a cave.”

“So it is the cave part.”

“Gimme that.” Matt snatched the Scotch bottle back and poured himself another double. “How the hell do I get out of it?”

“I don’t think you can. It’s one of those fated things.”

Nick’s matter-of-fact tone made him flinch. “Jesus Christ. I dreamed about them last night,” he said. “The Fates, I mean. We were having beer and hot wings at a sports bar. They told me—” He stopped. “They told me I was about to get a new job. And a new romance. Who the fuck is going to want to date a guy living in a cave?”

nicolacameron

Available on Amazon.


Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to view this Linky Tools list…

Mid Week Tease: Cross Current #MidWeekTease #MWTease

Mid Week Tease buttonIt’s Wednesday? Awesome! Because I have a little teaser for you from the WIP currently up on Scrivener, Cross Current (Olympic Cove #4). Here, my main character Matt has not only learned that Greek Gods, mermen, and selkies are real, but he has his own role to play in the battle against the Mad Goddess Thetis. He just wanted a few weeks of sun and fun before school started, poor sweetie.

Thanks go out to the lovely Angelica Dawson for doing this every week, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!

Matt’s tentative knock at the green cottage’s door was met by an unsmiling Griffin. “Hi. Welcome to Greek God Central.”

The repetition of Atropos’s phrase from his dream sent a chill down Matt’s spine. “Hi. Um, Pythia said that I should talk to Amphitrite?”

Griffin moved to the side, letting him in. “Right. She and Poseidon are busy with Donald at the moment. It might be awhile.” He gave Matt a sympathetic look. “How are you holding up?”

“I kinda feel like I got sucked into an episode of Stranger Things. Apart from that, I seem to be okay.”

“Yeah, sounds about right.” The Englishman took him into the kitchen, where he pulled two brown bottles out of the fridge and handed one over. “This’ll help.”

Matt read the microbrewery label. “I thought Brits didn’t chill their beers.”

“We do when we’re in Florida. I take it Nick gave you the scoop on what’s been happening here?”

“Crazy goddess trying to destroy Earth, a bunch of gods and other mythological creatures fighting her, yeah, I know.” He twisted off the bottle cap and took a welcome swig. “I’m not involved.”

“I’m not arguing. I’m new to the whole thing myself.” Although the knowing look in the Englishman’s eyes gave lie to his words. “How are your guests doing?”

“Nick’s treating them. The blond guy’s really a merman?”

“Yep, just like Aidan and Liam. You can probably talk them into going for a swim and showing you their tails.”

“Yeah, no, that’s okay.” He leaned against the counter, rubbing his thumb over the cool, sweating surface of the bottle. “I’m thinking maybe I should go back to Jupiter. If I can’t get my deposit back, I can crash with a buddy until school starts.”

Griffin folded his arms, leaning against the opposite counter. “If that’s truly what you think you should do, then do it. Nobody wants to keep you here against your will.”

Amphitrite picked that moment to appear, looking concerned. “Oh, good, Matt. You’re here. Donald wants to speak with you.”

He straightened up. “Donald?”

“The Oracle of the Waters. Tall man, white hair and beard, came out of the water with our other guests?”

He tried to get his tongue to work properly. “I—why does he want to talk to me?”

“I don’t know,” the goddess said, just a bit exasperated. “That’s something you’ll have to discuss with him.”

She gestured towards the hallway she’d just exited. Feeling like he was walking towards a firing squad, Matt slowly headed deeper into the cottage. Soft voices were coming through an open doorway and he peeked into what was clearly a guest bedroom

Inside, the old man from the beach had been dried off and tucked into bed, wet clothes piled on a chair next to the bed. Poseidon stood over him, handsome face lined as he listened to the man’s words. He glanced up at Matt’s arrival. “Oh, good, they found you. Donald needs to talk to you.”

“Um.” Matt edged into the room, studying the man in the bed. He looked to be about seventy, with Santa Claus-white hair brushed back from a high forehead and a slightly overgrown beard hiding a craggy face. His eyes, however, were his most notable feature. Pale as sea glass, they seemed to burn in that pale face.

“Ah. Matthew,” the man said, a faint lilt coloring his voice. “You’re quite the difficult man to track down.”

Dunn—no, Poseidon—turned and considered Matt. “You’re going to want to listen to him, I’m afraid.” The affable host from last night was gone. Replacing him was a being who radiated power and authority like nothing Matt had ever experienced before. Every rational cell in his body screamed at him to turn around, leave, jump in his car and head north until he was out of reach of the divinity standing in front of him.

“Hi.” He raised a hand and realized he was still holding the beer bottle. With a sigh, Poseidon plucked it out of his hand. “Um, yeah. Ammie said you wanted to talk to me?”

The sea god left, beer bottle in hand, and the man in the bed chuckled wearily. “Poor Poseidon. I don’t think he ever expected me to impose on his hospitality. But if Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, the mountain must come to Mohammed.”

More of the Fates’ words from his dream came back. “Are you talking about my trip to France?” That didn’t make any sense.

But the man nodded. “Yes. You were supposed to visit Marseilles, yes? While you were there, you would have found your way to my cavern and I would have begun your instruction.”

“Whoa, wait. Instruction?”

The old man gave him a wide, white smile. “Yes. Every good teacher knows that learning never truly ends. I’m Donald, by the way.”

“Matt.”

“I know. Matthew Taber, teacher of history to indifferent teenagers, warrior, scholar. You’re my personal choice, you know.”

This was getting far too weird. “Okay, wait,” Matt said, grabbing the wet clothes off the chair and putting them on a nearby dresser. After wiping the seat dry, he sat down in it. “Personal choice for what?”

“To replace me as the Oracle of the Waters.” Another ferocious smile. “I’m not actually immortal, you see. Just very long lived. But even my life is winding to a close, and someone must take over my position and my responsibilities. And out of all the mortals on this planet, I’ve chosen you to do that.”

****

Nick closed the guest room door in time to see a red-faced Matt storm back into the cottage. He went straight into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of Scotch from the counter, opening a cabinet and grabbing a glass before pouring himself a triple. Nick winced as the other man tossed back the drink in two huge gulps. “I take it that didn’t go well.”

Matt panted and blinked, sniffing hard. “That’s a fucking understatement, my friend.”

“Okay.” Nick reached down a glass for himself and pulled the Scotch out of Matt’s hand, pouring himself a reasonable finger. “You’ve been given your marching orders?”

“Marching orders? Marching orders?” Matt’s voice rose to a bellow on the last phrase. “Do you know what that old hippie in the cottage over there just told me? Apparently I’m the new Oracle of the Waters. I’m supposed to give up everything in my life and go live in a fucking cave on the coast of fucking France so that fucking sea creatures can come and get me to consult with the fucking Fates on their problems.”

“Huh. Yeah, that’s got to come as a surprise.” Nick took a tiny sip of his liquor. “Kinda know all about that sort of thing myself.”

Matt had started to pace the length of the kitchen floor. “Really? Because I don’t see you going off to live like a fucking monk in a goddamn cave.”

Nick had to give him that. “Is it the cave part that bugs you?”

The pacing man stopped, glaring at him. “What’s bugging me is that I came out here for two weeks of sun and relaxation to get over my damn divorce before I have to go back into the trenches. And suddenly not only do I get dragged into some sort of weird-ass battle against a crazy goddess, but I’m supposed to become the supernatural world’s version of Dear Prudence. In a cave.”

“So it is the cave part.”

“Gimme that.” Matt snatched the Scotch bottle back and poured himself another healthy knock. “You say you know about this sort of thing. How the hell do I get out of it?”

“I don’t think you can. It’s one of those fated things.”

The teacher twitched at that. “God. I dreamed about them last night, you know? The Fates. We were having beer and hot wings at a sports bar. They told me—” He stopped. “They told me I was about to get a new job. And a new romance. Who the fuck is going to want to date a guy living in a cave?”

“I think you’re a little fixated on the cave thing.”

They both turned. The blond merman leaned into the entrance to the kitchen, hands on either side of the entryway and still naked as when he first came out of the water. Nick gave him an admiring once-over. The wide shoulders, thick chest, and well-muscled arms common to merfolk tapered down to a narrow waist and a nice Adonis belt of V-shaped muscle. And under that was a great cock, not too large and not too small, nestled on top of a set of heavy balls and surrounded by a short cloud of dark gold hair.

From the corner of his eye he spotted Matt going very still, then looking away quickly. Interesting. “Uh, hi,” the man muttered.

“Sorry. You were shouting. Kind of hard to ignore it.” The merman padded over to them, holding out a huge hand. “I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself. I’m Finn.”

Nick shook his hand. “Well, that’s appropriate.”

Finn chuckled once. “I know, right?” He offered his hand to Matt. “Thank you for taking us in. You’ve got my eternal gratitude for that.”

“No problem.” Matt’s voice was slightly strangled as he shook the mer’s hand. “Do you want me to get you some pants? I think I have a pair of sweats that’ll fit you.”

Finn glanced down at himself. “Sure, why not?”

“Okay.” Stumbling just a little, Matt headed out of the kitchen, Scotch glass still in hand. Cheerful, Finn watched him go. “He’s cute.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Thanks to his agapetos Nick already knew that most mers were bisexual. “How’s your friend?”

Finn sobered. “Still sleeping. He’s not used to swimming that far. I told him to stay behind, but…” He grimaced. “Damn Fae. Stubborn as all hell.”

“How did you wind up with the Oracle, anyway?”

Now the big mer looked uncomfortable. “We’d gone to him to get some advice. When we got there, he told us the price for it would be us escorting him here. I wanted Duncan to stay at the cave, but he insisted on coming along.”

From his accent, Nick placed him as somewhere along the upper East coast. Swimming back and forth across the Atlantic Ocean was something a mer could do, albeit with effort. But to have a seal, even a magical one, in tow turned it into something impressive. “How are you feeling?”

Finn spread his hands. “I’m fine. Hungry. Worried about Duncan. Is the Oracle all right?”

“I haven’t had a chance to go check on him yet. I was going to go do that now. Will you be okay if I leave you here?”

“Oh, sure.” Finn glanced in the direction Matt had taken. “He’s not going to shoot me or have me stuffed and mounted, right?”

“I think his mind is on other things at the moment.”

“Then I’m good. And thank you again for taking care of Duncan.”

The sudden tenderness in his voice said a lot about his relationship with the selkie. Nick was used to unusual hookups happening on the cove, but a mer and a Fae getting together was something he wanted to hear about later on. “If anything goes wrong, I’m in the yellow cottage own the beach. Come get me, okay?”

“I will.”

Nick headed out, wondering how well Matt was going to adjust to his new reality.

nicolacameron


Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to view this Linky Tools list…

Pour me an absinthe, Gert

As of this afternoon the final line edits for Lady of Thorns were finished and it is officially ready for release next week on Halloween. Not only am I bloody well delighted about that, but I am really, really happy with the way this book turned out. It has a thoroughly solid emotional basis, both characters and plot are fully fleshed out, and it feels like one of the best books I’ve written to date. Also, as my beta Peter said, “Yay for fun books where antagonists are inner demons!”

Yeah, I do a lot of work with inner demons in this one. Amelie and I share a couple of problems about body image and growing up feeling unattractive and insecure about our looks. It was interesting to do a deep dive into the mindset created by that and, in effect, psychoanalyze my own issues by projecting them onto Amelie. Granted, I didn’t have a sexy Alain to walk me through that particular psychological minefield, and I’m still working on said issues and probably will be for the rest of my life. But I think I’m getting a better handle on loving myself and my wacky body the way it is, instead of pining for some impossible ideal.

It also helps that Ramón thinks I’m gorgeous and says so every day. He’s so sweet.

So, yeah, Lady is done, and Cross Current is back on the Scrivener screen and will be my NaNo novel this year. I’m currently at 13K on it, and hope to get it done before I have to report for jury duty on November 29th. And if not, I’ll just bring my iPad and write while I’m waiting in the jurist holding room. I’m hoping to get the last two Shifter Woods novellas knocked out as well so that I can release all four novellas as a boxed set before 2018.

Assuming the cats allow me to work. Seriously, how can a small creature one fifth my size be that annoying? I ask you.

Harvey, Irma, and Jose (don’t forget Katia)

People in our current government can deny climate change as much as they like. Climate change damn well believes in us.

The rains from Harvey are still draining out of Houston and the surrounding areas. Quite apart from the problems of determining what, if anything, in your waterlogged home can be saved, it seems that the flooding has also released an absolutely enormous amount of industrial pollutants from the various petrochemical facilities. The eastern section of the Texan Gulf coast is going to be toxic as hell for quite some time as a result. Sorry, Louisiana.

As of this moment, Irma has pretty much leveled 90% of the structures on the island of Barbuda and rendered 60% of its inhabitants homeless. The pictures from the Virgin Islands and Puerto Rico are horrific. And while there’s still time for Irma to make an abrupt right turn, the various projected tracks are starting to agree that south Florida is about to be bitchslapped hard. I know someone who lives on Palm Beach Island, and I’m hoping like hell that he and his family obeyed the mandatory evac order. The bulk of my Floridian friends tend to live either on the Gulf side or around Orlando, but I’m still worried about them because Irma looks to ratfuck Florida’s infrastructure on a major scale.

Jose is still out in the south Atlantic but is now a Cat 3 hurricane and seems to be following in Irma’s wake. Hopefully the high pressure system over the upper east coast will come down in time to push that back out to sea. And Katia has now organized in the Gulf into a Cat 1 hurricane–it probably doesn’t have enough run-up space to get much bigger so Mexico’s about to get some rain but hopefully nothing more than that. What with pretty much all of the West Coast on fire right now, however, we’re literally between hell and high water.

So why is a romance writer talking about weather disasters? Well, apart from the fact that my Olympic Cove series is pretty much based on climate change (and yeah, I have a really hellacious sinus headache at the moment and it’s making me cranky), it’s pretty freaking obvious by now that the increase in both the strength of hurricanes and the number of deadly hurricanes is tied to warmer ocean waters, which is caused by—say it with me—global warming. And while writers are often told not to be political on their social media platforms because God forbid you should drive away potential readers, at this point I think it’s far more important to drag the topic of climate change into the spotlight again and again. Hopefully with enough repetition from enough sources, enough people may start to accept that 1) climate change is real, and 2) it affects all of us on this big blue marble. We still have time to get our shit together and salvage something for the next generation, who don’t deserve this mess. But Lord, we have got to start now.

Meanwhile, back at Olympic Cove…

I can tell that I haven’t worked on this series for awhile — getting back into the rhythm and the voices of the established characters has taken a bit of work, and I’ve also switched up the new characters for this book (my MC was originally ex-military, but that was making him a bit too hard-assed for the purposes of the book so I switched it out — he now practices Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, which should be more than enough for the heroics he’ll be doing later on in the book). I think I’m solidly back in place now, and chapter 1 of Cross Current will be done by the end of the day. With a good tail wind and some effort I may have all of Act I done by the end of this week, which would be nice.

Now if the Sudafed and Tylenol I just took to relieve this damn sinus pressure would kick in, life would be a dream.

OH! One last thing — I’ve joined Instagram. Yeah, it was bound to happen eventually. Anyhoo, you can follow me and get an inside look at the life of a hybrid romance writer. A warning — cats will be featured prominently. But you already knew that, didn’t you?

An update, because I know you love those

This has been one fraught week, angels. Last week, Ramón learned that his mom had broken her thigh bone (ironically, it happened in the doctor’s office which she was visiting to determine why her leg hurt). She was taken to the hospital and received multiple scans, after which it was determined that she needed surgery to install a plate on the thigh bone to hold everything in place.

And then a consultant took a closer look at the scans to figure out what was causing the pain in the first place. He discovered a tumor. More were found, and suddenly we went into full “Get Ramón back home to see his mom NOW” mode, which was complicated by work duties and a very welcome house guest who just happened to show up at a difficult time. But the house guest is now on her way, the work duties have been fulfilled, Ramón is packed and I’ll be schlepping him to the airport in a couple of hours, and he’ll be landing in the UK tomorrow. Any good thoughts/prayers/white light/whatever you have directed to a very nice lady in Chesterfield would be quite appreciated at the moment.

In other news, I posted polls on Facebook and Twitter to ask people what series they would like me to work on next. To my surprise and gratification it turned out that Olympic Cove was the clear winner, so I’ve put the Pacifica Rising and Two Thrones books on hold and am back at work on Cross Current (Book 4). I hope to have that off to Evernight by the end of May, so for everyone who’s been waiting for the continuing adventures of the gods, mermen, disciples, and other residents of Olympic Cove and their battle against the Mad Goddess Thetis, you’ve got something good on the way!

And She Returns…

My goodness, I haven’t posted anything since before RT, have I? Bad romance writer, NO new MacBook Pro!

No, seriously, no new MacBook Pro. I was going to buy one this weekend with my royalties because my existing laptop is 1) over eight years old and 2) was a refurb when I bought it, but as it turns out I need to use my income for other writing-related expenses — namely, a cover (more about that later), sponsorship and attendance for Wild Wicked Weekend, and to pay off my half of an upcoming trip.

So the new laptop will have to wait another month. Which sort of sucks, but that’s adulting for you.

Anyway, back to RT — I decided to drive from Dallas to Vegas instead of flying because I was in the mood for a roadtrip (and er, I had a lot of shit to bring). Said road trip was gorgeous, and I learned that it is geographically noticeable when you cross from Texas into New Mexico and New Mexico into Arizona. At the TX/NM border the landscape immediately changes from flat plains to gorgeously colored mesas, and at the NM/AZ border it immediately turns into scrubby desert with the occasional mountain until you get to Flagstaff, at which point you’re definitely in the mountains. Lovely, and I’d like to do it again with Ramón if possible.

Vegas itself is the neon-lit adult funland that it’s always been, so no real news there. The Rio was perfectly serviceable as a hotel, although I did hear that the route from the hotel rooms to the conference area was referred to as “the Hallway of Doom” due to its distance. Let’s just say that I hit 10K steps on four different days and leave it at that. Much fun was had with the lovely LD Blakeley as my roommate, and we attended some nifty panels, hung out with great folks like Kenna Nauenberg and Alex Gordon, and of course attended the amazing Cirque du Punk party on Friday night.

KennaLDMeRT16

Kenna, LD, and myself. I was yelping, “I have a waist, I have a waist!” when LD was lacing me up.

LadyACloseupRT16

Lady Amphitrite before the nails and corset went on, because those were saved for last, you betcha.

LDMeRT16

Two erotic romance writers loose in Vegas. I’m surprised we didn’t get into more trouble.

Photo courtesy of Michael Patrick Gleason

Competing in the CdP costume contest (picture courtesy of Michael Patrick Gleason). I cannot adequately express how much I love this costume.

The other big event of RT for me was the Book Fair on Saturday. I didn’t sell a lot, but I did get to see sights like this:

CoverModels

My life is so hard.

Sunday was spent tidying up, trying to get everything packed (or in LD’s case cursing UPS for their extortionate charges to ship stuff to Canada), and hanging out with fellow Evernight author Khloe Wren and awesome cover model Michael Gleason:

KhloeLDMeMichaelRT16

After this LD and I looked at each other, said, “Let’s get out of the hotel for a bit,” and went for a cruise up and down the Las Vegas strip during which we spotted many crimes against good taste, what we suspect is a genuine murder hotel, and a gigantic and truly scary gift shop.

The next day I dropped LD off at the airport and headed home (including a white-knuckle drive during a severe thunderstorm in the Texas Panhandle) to get back to work on all the WIPs I need to finish toot sweet. I also tried to finish a short story for Evernight’s Dark Captive anthology, but the damn thing blew up on me and turned into a short novel. So, um, yeah, look for Do No Harm this summer from Belaurient Press!

In other publishing news, I sold the German language translation of Trickster to Me and the Muse Publishing in Germany, I’m currently waiting on a decision from Juno Publishing in France as to whether they want to publish Empress of Storms in French, and a very good friend of mine will be releasing a hot and hilarious new M/M erotic novelette on Tuesday which I will be helping out with on promo (trust me, you want to read this). The current work queue includes (counts on fingers) Cross Current (Olympic Cove #4), Behind the Iron Cross, Prince of Scoundrels (Two Thrones #2), Do No Harm, and Trickster: All In. That should be enough to keep me going for a couple of months, don’t you think?

A blast from the past

JessicaHowUDooinToday’s writing project was Cross Current and despite not one, not two, but THREE cats insisting on jumping into my lap to help I finally finished knocking out 3K on it, bringing my total word count up to 6,409 words. I’m also very pleased to announce that I get to use one of my very first characters in this novel — yes, for fans of my novelette A Boon by Moonlight I’m bringing back Lord Jerrek of House Carwin as a consultant for the Olympic Cove crew on how to handle the runaway selkie prince who just landed on their shores. As it turns out Jerrek owes Poseidon a favor or two, and he’s being deliciously snarky as usual as he negotiates the trade of information with my two lead characters.

Oh, and Ceit? Your namesake just made her first appearance (in discussion, at least). The beautiful, brilliant Lady Ceitlin of House Selbach is waiting for her wayward groom to get his ass back to the pod and go through their marriage ceremony. But will that be the end of it? Oh, hell no — things just get more interesting from here on in.

Also, apropos of nothing I’ve somehow managed to wash all of the master bedroom bedding today. Considering that we sleep with a ridiculous amount of bedclothes (all my fault — Ramón calls me the Greater American Nesting Female) that’s about seven loads of laundry, plus I carried all the clean clothes upstairs and put them away. I think I can take the rest of the night off, yes?

Mid Week Tease: Cross Current #MidWeekTease #MWTease

Mid Week Tease buttonIt’s Wednesday? Awesome! Because I have a little teaser for you from the beginning of Cross Current (Olympic Cove #4). No, it’s not very sexy but I haven’t gotten to that point. Yet. Muwahahahaha…

Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!

“If you’ll sign here, please.”

Matt Taber wrote his signature on the indicated line.

“And here.”

Another line, another signature.

“And one last time.”

The same slightly scrawled name, black ballpoint ink pressed into grooves. The lawyer’s office printed out their documents on the nice heavy paper made for laser printers, not the thin general purpose stuff.

Nothing but the best for the death of a marriage.

“That should do it,” his lawyer said. He exchanged a nod with the other lawyer, their steps done in this particular dance.

Across the table, Matt’s now-ex-wife Nancy sat with her hands neatly folded, a politely blank expression on her face. After ten years of living with her, he still couldn’t read it.

Then again, he didn’t have to try anymore. Giving her a brusque nod, he stood and followed his lawyer out of the conference room.

“That went pretty well, I’d say,” the lawyer said. “Although I still think we should have held out for community property.”

Matt shrugged. “I don’t want anything from her.”

That wasn’t quite true. But it was far too late in any case. And God knew the last thing he wanted from her was money.

He nodded through the rest of the lawyer’s litany, agreeing to stop by the office for the final payment. And then he was alone in the granite-clad hallway, surrounded by expensive air and time that was counted in billable hours.

“Matt.”

He turned. Nancy stood at the door of the conference room, elegant as always. Today she wore a cream tailored jacket and skirt over a champagne silk blouse that would go straight from a divorce lawyer to her VP office at a major bank without anyone batting an eye.

The regret washed over him again. I loved you, I really did.

I’m sorry.

She pursed her mouth as if hearing his thoughts. “I’m not going to give you some ridiculous platitude about how this is the best thing for both of us,” she said, kind and blunt at the same time. “I wasn’t happy and I wanted out, simple as that. But I also know you’re hurting right now, and I’m sorry about that. You’re a good person, Matt. You’ll be able to find someone who’s a better fit for you.”

Matt let a slow breath roll out. “I thought you weren’t going to give me some ridiculous platitude.”

One black eyebrow rose in an elegant curve, her equivalent of a laugh. “You have a point. I’ll be back from Hong Kong in a month. Will that be enough time for you?”

“Yeah, plenty.” The house on Chinook Lane had been hers before their marriage. He admired the building, but never felt at home there. It was like living in something out of an issue of Architectural Digest. “I can swing by and check the mail every couple of days if you like.”

“No, I already put a hold on it at the post office. But I appreciate the offer.”

“Okay.” He stared at the woman who, with a handful of signatures, had gone from his wife to a stranger. “Well. Have a good flight.”

“Thanks.” She leaned forward and brushed cool lips across his cheek, then turned and walked away.

nicolacameron

Available on Amazon.


Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to view this Linky Tools list…