Friday, March 30, 2012

Six Questions for Taryn Elliott - CONTEST!

Taryn Elliott released her first book, UNCROSS YOUR HEART, and it's already getting RAVE reviews (as it should!) I was lucky enough to see this book from its inception all the way through and I'm looking forward to digging into the final version soon (yep, I love Taryn's work that much that I look forward to rereading it!)

Read on for Taryn's answers to some questions I asked her, then leave a comment or question for Taryn for your chance to win a 10.00 Gift Certificate to either Amazon or Barnes & Noble AND an ebook copy of UNCROSS YOUR HEART!

Six Questions for Taryn Elliott

1) UNCROSS YOUR HEART is your first book (and it's freaking awesome!) Tell us all about it! What was your inspiration for the story?

*Insert SQUEE* Thanks. I didn't think this one would ever see the light of day! I'm so glad it's finally getting out there into reader's hands. Nate and Miranda's story came about during the 2008 NaNo. (Those of us that aren't insane probably don't know what that is. It's National Novel Writing Month and hundreds of thousands of writers buckle down to write a novel in one month.) Back then the Paris Hiltons of the world were dominating the tabloids with their antics and I thought--what would it feel like to have to live with your mistakes making headlines? People that don't live in that lifestyle can be hugely judgmental about the morality angles of drugs, promiscuity, and the glamor of being rich. But what would happen if you decided to simply walk away from the limelight and become a different person? Is starting over something you can really do?

So, I came up with Miranda Woods, graphic artist based in San Francisco and her alter ego, MJ Lyons, notorious party-girl from a dysfunctional rich family in Los Angeles. Add in Nate Cross and his blue collar background, family values, and traditional outlook on relationships and you are just asking for a book filled with trouble. Miranda fights her feelings for Nate the whole way and has to come to terms with her past to find a future and trust that a man like him can love her no matter what.

The book was a bit of a hot mess in it's original form so I threw it in the proverbial drawer and kept on working with other characters and other stories. But the story just wouldn't stay in the drawer. (More like Cari wouldn't let it stay in the drawer. LOL) In a world filled with reality TV and tabloid insanity it continued to be a relevant story, so I dusted it off and fell back in love with them. I even found the nerve to submit and got a YES from an editor!

2) UNCROSS YOUR HEART is the first book in the Cross Brothers series (and these are some seriously yummy brothers!) Give us a sneak peek at what's in store for us in the series. 

In my edits I realized that all of Nate's brothers were too good to stay supporting cast. All of them had crazy loud Irish personalities that demanded attention. Matt, Luke and Noah are all going to get their happily ever after. My lovely editor gave me the green light to get moving on Matt's story next. He's a musician and guest stars in UNCROSS YOUR HEART. *insert HUGE purring sigh* A band break up, a heaping plate full of self doubt, and finding the woman of his dreams right in the middle of all of that will be filled with chicanery and hijinks with a side of Oh, HELL no. (That would be Matt saying that, by the way. LOL)

3) What can we look forward to next from Taryn Elliott?

The crazy part about the publishing world is you wait and wait and FREAKING wait and then BAM! Everything is happening at once! This winter I sold to Entangled Publishing's Ever After line, which is their novella length books. I was told that ASHES AND WINE will be out at the end of April! No rest for the wicked definitely applies to me right now.

ASHES AND WINE is chuck full of more brothers. I just can't help myself. The family dynamic is so fun to play with! Royal Andreas is in the middle of transitioning from eldest son to head of the family winery. He's trying to hold his family together through the impending loss of his father to cancer. He's wanted Tessa Winter for years and one night he finally allows himself to break free of the responsibilities and take something for himself. It was only supposed to be one night, not the first night of forever...

4) Which genre would you like to tackle next, assuming the time fairy blessed you?

Where is this time fairy? I'm totally caging her and making her give me all her fairy dust! I think I'm going to try my hand at some romantic suspense eventually. Luke, one of the Cross brothers, is a cop and I think he's pretty much made that decision for me. But probably not until next year.

5) When you’re looking to relax, what do you like to do? And which of your heroes do you wish could “relax” with you?

You stick me on a beach with a book and I'm a happy bunny. But if I can't have the beach, I'll still take the book. I LOVE to read. And I love TV. I love getting lost in characters and stories in any media available. And my 'hero' of choice would have to be Matt Cross. That guitar and bleeding music soul is going to kill me. I swear it. But man, what a way to go.

6) And just for fun: you’re offered a chance to run away from your life for a weekend. Where do you go and what do you do?

Tropical blue waters and a powdery beach, baby. I don't care what island it is, as long as I get a cabana boy with the package. Heh. Take that as you may.

Thanks so much for having me, Cari! I appreciate the interview and the chance to tell people about Nate and Miranda. Especially when I get to do it with my favorite person. ;)

GIVEAWAY: $10 Amazon card and copy of UNCROSS YOUR HEART in their format of choice: ePUB, Kindle, or PDF




LENGTH: plus novel - 78,000 words

TYPE: Contemporary, erotic romance


Sometimes starting over means facing your greatest fears…

Miranda Woods is adept at pretending to be someone else, someone without a past. She’s able to forget for chunks of time that she comes from a very wealthy, notorious family. She’s given up most of the party-girl vices from her old life, including sex. But that’s before Nathan Cross barges into her life.

To all appearances, Nathan Cross is a simple man—devoted to family and friends, committed to his work. But nothing is simple about Nate’s feelings for Miranda. Fascination quickly blooms to outright lust, and not just for her body. He wants all of her, even the parts she hides from the world. But Miranda’s secrets threaten to drive away the one man capable of helping her come to terms with her past, and allow a future with a love that’s all about truth.

Copyright © TARYN ELLIOTT, 2012
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

“So, what do you think of the guy on the dance floor?”

Miranda laughed. “You’re joking.” There were a few guys sprinkled in with the feast of females. The one that was trying every dance move since 1980 in the hopes to get noticed by the college girls was even entertaining. “Do you hate me?”

Max leaned on the bar table and laughed. “Just checking. He’s so totally your husband.”

So they fell into the game that they played when Max did manage to drag her out. “Nope, definitely not him. The guy hanging over the edge at the upper bar is totally my dream date.”

Max ducked his head and laughed. “Good God, his shirt doesn’t even cover his gut.”

“I’m tellin’ ya. He’s already broken in. No expectations.” She finished her glass and found another at her elbow. Too amused to question it, she took a sip. Her eyes stalled a few times at the bar. A simple cotton button-down shirt clung to a pair of impressive shoulders, but it was the forearms she kept staring at. Muscles flexed lightly as he cupped a mug of dark beer. He was tall and lean, tanned lightly—not the leathery, raisin skin of some of the surfers, but just right.

The two men he was with were attractive in their own right. The shorter one looked like a misplaced puppy the way his head kept snapping around as if he just missed something, and the lanky one held a bored expression that spoke too much of the men she’d run with in her L.A. days. The tats that twisted around his forearms and biceps gave her a moment’s pause. Ink was, and always would be, sexy.

She and Max laughed over half a dozen men in the room, from the hang ten set to the slick, suited up kind trying to look cool instead of desperate. Something started to hum deep inside her as the DJ’s beat pushed at her. She’d avoided the club scene since she’d landed in San Francisco nearly four years ago.

Restless, part of her wanted to go out on the dance floor and show the wannabes how to tease and lure, how to own the men and leave them wanting. Power was as addicting as any drug sold on the market, and she’d tried it all. In Los Angeles, there was an undertone of slick danger that was missing here.

A shimmer of memory tugged at impulses she’d buried under work and a life that included people who actually cared about her. Impulses that kept dragging her eyes back to Mr. Forearms. At the moment, his battered jeans, tight across the thighs, were the highlight of her current perusal.

“And how did I not notice him?”

“Who?” Miranda averted her gaze, focusing on anything but him.

“The one you’re staring at.” Max leaned in, draping an arm around her shoulder.

“You’re imagining things. I was looking at Mr. Blue-tipped Mohawk.” She forced herself to relax and pushed her reactions down where they belonged.

“He was next to a blonde, right?”

“Right.” She sipped her wine.

“Wrong, the mohawk guy is on the other end of the bar. You’re totally looking at tall, dark and rumpled in the middle of the bar with his married friend and…brother, I think. He’s straight and,” Max’s grin widened to a full-fledged smile, “he’s totally checking you out.”

Miranda’s heart kicked.

Go, take—he’s waiting for you.
Her fingers tightened on the stem of her glass. “He’s looking at the hot little co-ed at the next table.”

“No, he’s looking at the hot redhead sitting next to me.” He moved closer. “Yup, he just shot the death ray at me. Should I kiss you so he’ll come over here and punch me out?” Max brushed his lips along her cheek.

The roll of heat gathered at the base of her spine and surged up. Not because of Max, but that there was someone watching, someone wanting her. That he was a mile of delicious was a bonus. Overwhelming and dangerous, the edges of want licked at her, reminding her how good it felt to lure a man in. Once upon a time she’d been the most desirable woman in the room. Not because she was the most beautiful, but because she was powerful. One word from her could kill an A-list position.

“I bet his shoulders get even bigger when he’s all macho—”

She lifted her shoulders to get him to stop breathing on her neck and let the ghosts of her past roll off at the same time. “Get off me, Max.”

Good-natured as ever, he didn’t pick up on her personal demon that was dying for freedom. Of course, why would he? For Max this was all in good fun. He didn’t know what she’d been.

“Go over there and ask him to dance.”

“Hell, no.” Miranda gulped down the last of her wine. Too bad the hunger wasn’t as easy to get rid of. “Hour’s up, time to go.”

“Oh, no.” Max closed his hand over hers. “We can go after you go ask the surfer to dance.”

“He’s not tan enough to be a surfer,” she muttered.

“Aha! You have been looking at him!”

“Max,” she whispered the warning, praying that he’d catch on. Max in focus was as lethal as his camera. “Keep your voice down.”

“I’m just going to get louder,” he said in a voice just under a shout. “God, look at those shoulders and that messy, delicious mop of dark hair. Imagine all of that on your pillow the next morning? Regrets are a lot easier to swallow when they’re pretty.”

The burn bloomed and the hum returned. Imagining him tangled in her sheets was a little too easy. “No. He’s attractive, but I’m not picturing him naked.” She wished for another hit of wine as Mr. Forearms drilled his hand into his pocket, tugging his jeans low enough that she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the hint of pale skin and trail of dark hair that disappeared into the well-worn denim leaving a notched V at his hip. His shirttails raised a little as he lifted his beer to his lips.

She swallowed with him, imagining the dark brew heavy on her tongue. Just one lick of his skin. Just one hit of that foamy taste.

The whisper of want pulsed like the beat piping through the walls and the floor.

“Go on. We’re not leaving until you talk to him.”

“You seem to forget you can’t order me around, Max.” She tore her gaze away from Mr. Forearms and focused on her friend. “I’m your boss.”

“Until close of business, you’re my boss. Right now?” He shoved her forward. “Now, I’m the kick in the ass you need. Just a dance, Miranda. You don’t even have to tell him your name.”

That’s right, MJ, just a dance.

She closed her eyes against the voice sneaking out through the haze of too much wine and way too many neglected hormones. It had been so long since she’d had a man touch her. And dancing was the safest sex on the earth. She could call the shots and at worst he’d bitch to his friends that he’d danced with a tease.

“After I dance with him, we’re out of here and you don’t get to guilt me into going out for at least six months.”

The self-satisfied smirk nearly got slapped off, but then she’d hear him whine for each one of those six months.

Just one dance.

She headed toward Mr. Forearms, lifting her chin and rolling her hips as she got closer to him. He’d put his beer down. His dark brows snapped together over eyes that were a clear and perfect gray. She hooked her fingers around the wrist of the hand buried in his pocket and drew him away from the bar. “Dance with me.”

The familiar thrill of control and awareness made her fingertips tingle within his large palm. His friend made a few off-color remarks, but as soon as she got in Mr. Forearms’ space nothing else mattered. The beat swallowed her—owned her.

He didn’t speak and that was perfect. She drew him into the middle of the dance floor as the music swelled into a tribal beat showcasing a woman with a watery voice that dripped sex. The click of his jaw only heightened her buzz. His mouth was soft and full, such a contrast to the ridge of his brow and sharp angles of his cheekbones.

“Don’t you—”

She shook her head. “No names.”

His frown deepened, and again she was okay with that. He had a purpose. She turned, backing into him until the heat of his body and the music drowned out caution. She wasn’t sure if the whispery voice and extended mix was helping her or hindering her until his hands gripped her hips, easing her back against his jeans. Big. All she could focus on was how big and warm he felt.

His fingertips tightened over the silk of her skirt, digging until he caught the sway of her hips. She raised her arms, brushed his shoulders with the backs of her hands, at once overwhelmed and at ease with him so close to her. He was lean and muscled under the layers of cotton and denim. Her shoulders rested against his chest and the licks of awareness were definitely not one-sided.

The air shimmered with the moment, the beat, and the perfect alignment of bodies. His hair was thick and soft against his neck, just long enough to twist her fingers into. All it would take was one tug to pull him down closer, but she resisted.

Instinct and memory heightened the moment, lengthened the tease. Delicious as the Latin undertones of the song and the light, breathy voice that promised fantasy and a world of pleasure, they moved as one.

She drew his hand up her hip and over her belly where her tunic lifted. His hand was rough and calloused, spanning her entire torso. Gentle but not hesitant, his fingertips possessed the expanse of skin. The rumble of a moan transferred through her back and chased the ball of lust up and out of its box.

His thigh slid between hers and she undulated against him as the song changed and the beat increased. Her thighs dripped with sweat and her own excitement. Blood surged until the music climbed inside the empty spaces. Her breath came faster as he drew her back until there was no space between them. He leaned down into her, his cheek pressed against her temple. The citrus scent of him wrapped around her.

The music drove them harder. The room drifted away as he moved her hair aside and his breath hit just behind her ear. Her nipples ached for a touch. Him, her, it didn’t matter.


Thick and silky, his hair sifted through her fingers as she pulled him even lower. She undulated against him, feeling his jeans tighten and the head of his cock press into her lower spine. When his lips brushed her neck, she reacted instantly.

She spun around, grabbing the front of his shirt tight enough that the buttons dug into her palm. Her knuckles grazed over a ribbed white tank pulled snug over a chest that was anything but soft. His stormy gaze met hers a moment before he invaded her space, lining them up for a kiss.

That’s it, take. Swallow him whole. He’ll like it.

He hovered, looking for permission. Every part of her wanted to lift up into that first meeting of mouths. The mindless pleasure she’d find in him was there for the taking. Her panties passed damp and went right into drenched the moment he’d touched her.

And that’s why she stopped.

The song cooperated with her. She peeled her fingers off his shirt, smoothing it down even as temptation urged her to flick each button open instead.


The long-ago voice was insistent and scared her enough that she could barely breathe. “Thanks for the dance,” she said with a throaty purr. No. Her lungs burned and the sensual haze dissipated. She didn’t sound like that. MJ’s sex kitten voice had no business in her life. His eyes widened as she took another step back.

He reached for her hand, but she turned away. His voice barely registered over the Lady Gaga song that turned the dance floor into a jumble of bodies. Praying her knees really weren’t made of water, she didn’t even bother to look toward Max as she left the bar. Instead she focused on sucking in cool air and quickly crossing the street toward Max’s car.

Friday, March 23, 2012

Taryn Elliott's Release Day! Contest!

Happy Friday! I know I've been MIA lately, but it's for good reason - I've been writing! But today I'm here to share with you an AWESOME book and an even more amazing author, my critique partner Taryn Elliott! Her  FIRST EVER book is out today from Ellora's Cave, UNCROSS YOUR HEART, and it's incredible! Trust me on that. The cover, blurb and buy link are below if you'd like to check out a debut author who is definitely a star in the making!

Sometimes starting over means facing your greatest fears…

Miranda Woods is adept at pretending to be someone else, someone without a past. She’s able to forget for chunks of time that she comes from a very wealthy, notorious family. She’s given up most of the party-girl vices from her old life, including sex. But that’s before Nathan Cross barges into her life.

To all appearances, Nathan Cross is a simple man—devoted to family and friends, committed to his work. But nothing is simple about Nate’s feelings for Miranda. Fascination quickly blooms to outright lust, and not just for her body. He wants all of her, even the parts she hides from the world. But Miranda’s secrets threaten to drive away the one man capable of helping her come to terms with her past, and allow a future with a love that’s all about truth.



ALSO -- Taryn's holding a great contest on my blog (click HERE) for a chance to win a $10.00 gift certificate to Barnes & Noble or Amazon AND an ebook copy of UNCROSS YOUR HEART!

And NEXT WEEK she'll be here at Three Wicked Writers Plus Two with a terrific interview and another great contest!

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Play Ball!

I'm super excited today. You know why? Because it's release day, that's why!

Do you like baseball? Do you like romance? Well, you are in luck, friend. My latest release is a contemporary romance set in the world of professional baseball. Let me tell you what, it was darned difficult to write without breaking any MLB trademarks. But it's totally worth it. This is the first in the Hard Ball series, which will release at key points during this years' baseball season. Long Relief should tide you over until opening day. Double Header will be out before the All-Star break, and Triple Play might distract you from you woes if your team doesn't make it to the post.

Here's the blurb for Long Relief, available today:

Successful entrepreneur Maggie Harper has lived and breathed baseball since birth. But when her father, once a legendary player, later a team owner, leaves her the Grand Rapids Bengals in his will, she’s in over her head. Orchestrating a successful season is foreign territory, complicated by a sizzling one-night stand with a player who definitely wants something more. After pitching a disastrous game that cost the Bengals the championship pennant, veteran pitcher Chris Thomas knows his days as a player are numbered. There are more important things to be worried about than the sexy new team owner, but Maggie’s hot-and-cold act is driving him to distraction. A woman has never come between him and the game before, but now he has to make a choice between his love of playing ball and his love of Maggie. When their entanglement is discovered, the stakes are even higher. Caught between doing what’s right for the team and what’s right for them, Maggie and Chris have to decide what’s more important, a championship season, or a chance at love.

To read an excerpt, and to own this fine book, hop on over to Resplendence Publishing!

Thursday, March 15, 2012

I have Brass Balls

I do! For realz. My book Brass Balls released yesterday at I loved this book above all other Balls. I think the view is popular considering that it went up on All Romance eBooks yesterday, and I already have a silver best selling star! I'm number two in the category of Gay Romance, number two in the category of Contemporary Romance, and number one in Erotic Romance.

I guess you could say I'm floating. :) So here's my bid for promotion.

BRASS BALLS, by @MiaWatts

PRICE: $3.99
ISBN: 978-1-60735-480-2
CATEGORY: Contemporary Erotic Romance, Male/Male, Handcuffs and Lace.
LENGTH: Novella


Handcuffs and Lace Series

Kissing a fellow police officer might not have been the smartest drunken move Oak Takala has made in recent years. Okay, and it might have complicated the issue that the officer in question is his father’s former partner, Wyatt Peterman. Aaaaaand there’s the fact that Peterman is the newly appointed precinct captain.

So what the fuck? Why not go balls to the wall and make a play no one will forget?


“Fuck, the new captain is here,” Detective Sommerset declared, choking on his beer. It sloshed as he whipped it away from his mouth and slammed it on the table a little too hard.

Oak Takala snorted. He mentally struck the verbal comma and “is here”. His body was already on board with the idea of fucking the new captain. He glanced over his shoulder as the bar erupted with cheers.

“And the old one,” a familiar voice said near Oak.

A heavy hand fell on Oak’s shoulder. He turned around and grabbed his old man in a half hug. They pounded each other’s backs in the time old tradition of rough men showing rough affection in public.

“Hey, dad. Thought you’d ring in the new regime with the guys?” Oak asked.

Former Captain of Police, now voice of the local tribe, John Takala grinned broadly. “You know it. I’m just glad the powers-that-be took my recommendation seriously. Wyatt Peterman’s been an asset to the department since he partnered with me as a detective.”

“I’m just glad they chose another guy from our precinct instead of bringing in new blood who doesn’t know us. Means we’re doing something right,” Oak added.

His father squeezed his shoulder. “Means I’m doing something right that they took my recommendation.”

“So what’s your new position like, Cap—Geez, what the hell do I call you now? Mister Takala?” Sommerset wondered.

“Yep, that’s all I am now. A civie. The only captain Takala will be my son when Peterman resigns.”

“No pressure,” Oak noted.

“He’s gotta be as good as his old man, first.” The new voice sent a hot crawl down Oak’s spine.

“Captain Peterman, speak of the devil,” Oak’s dad did the back-clapping thing with his former partner.

They laughed. John lifted Oak’s beer as though it was his own and shouted a toast to the bar filled with off-duty cops. They hoisted their mugs and guzzled amber fluid in deep draining pulls amidst joyful shouts.

Oak tried not to look at the captain out of the corner of his eye, but the man had so much charisma that it grabbed hold of Oak’s attention with invisible fists. Determined not to notice, Oak rescued his beer and drained the contents.

“Whoa! Slow down there, partner. You’re supposed to be my designated driver,” Sommerset complained. “I’ve had way too many to take the wheel, and you just downed a second pint.”

Oak stared into the thread foam at the base of his mug. “I think it’s my first.”

“No way. Chuckie bought you a second round just before Peterman got here.”

“Captain Peterman,” both John and Wyatt said at the same time.

“Aw, c’mon, we’re off the clock,” Sommerset teased.

“Not when it comes to seniority,” John corrected.

“Fine, fine, but he’s had two beers.” Sommerset faced Oak. “You weren’t gonna drink Chuckie’s.”

“I forgot.” He had forgotten. Wyatt Peterman, Captain Wyatt Peterman, could make him forget his fucking name if he wanted to. It took a look, a smile, a hit to the chest of the man’s deep laugh and deeper dimples, to make Oak go completely tongue-tied.

Another beer appeared in front of him. He stared at it.

“Don’t even think about it, man.” Sommerset was already claiming the frothy mug.

Oak wrapped his hand around it to stop him. Sommerset’s smile disappeared. “Seriously. You can’t drive as it is. Neither can I.”

“I know. We’ll walk,” Oak decided.

“I’ll drive you,” Captain Peterman said.

“He’s my kid. I’ll take them both home,” John protested.

Peterman shouldered in to the bar table they stood around. “You and I both know that even off the clock, I can’t throw back beers with the guys. I can’t be one of them anymore.”

Oak could hear the smile in Peterman’s voice, and he resisted the urge to look, choosing to take a long drink of his draft.

“The three of you will have to drink my beers for me, and I’ll drive you all home,” the captain finished.

Four fresh mugs appeared on the table. Oak was shocked to see the beer he’d been holding was now empty. He reached for his fourth mug. There were perks to being the former captain’s kid and the new captain’s friend.


There was also a shit-ton of disadvantages. Especially when you lusted after your dad’s former partner. It had been bad enough wanting Peterman when he came over to the house for dinner, during Oak’s teen years and not being able to do anything about it.

Then there was growing up and joining the force. More than just his dad’s partner, he became inter-office taboo. But no, why stop there? Why not promote the object of his desires right into the most unobtainable position on the planet—oh, say, captain—and put him in the same office day in and day out where Oak couldn’t help but see him. And it wasn’t as if a captain ever left the office. No, he was there overseeing. It fucking increased the hours in a day Oak had to pretend the man didn’t turn every one of his hormones into raging drones drawn to the cliff of self-destruction.

Kill him now. Just kill him now. God, his life sucked. Maybe he should put in for a transfer.

“Take it easy, kid. I think you’ve already reached your limit,” Peterman told Oak.

Peterman’s upper arm brushed Oak’s shoulder. Oak bit back a groan behind the rim of his mug. A warm hand closed over his and pushed the mug to the tabletop. He made the mistake of looking up into Wyatt’s dark blue eyes. Since when had the captain grown fuzzy eyes and a halo around his head? He reached a hand up to touch the halo and patted Peterman’s head instead.

“Slow down. There isn’t a race to drain the tap,” Peterman murmured only loud enough for him.

Ah, but Peterman didn’t realize that there was a race for drowning his libido before it took a turn he couldn’t come back from. “I know what I’m doing,” Oak slurred.

“Sure, ya do.”

He swung his head around. The room took a minute to settle. “Hey. Where’d dad go?”

“He’s in the john,” Sommerset told him. He giggled madly. “John’s in the john. God, that’s funny shit right there.” He laughed harder. “Shit! Ha! Funny shit in the john where John is. I’m a fucking comedian.”

“Right, it’s time to go, boys.”

“Not done, boss,” Oak argued.

“You’re not only done, you’re roasted and served up in beer sauce.”

Oak smirked. “Maybe you’ve had too much to drink too.”

“Not a sip.” Peterman grabbed the upper arms of both men. “Let’s go before you find a way to call in sick tomorrow.”

“I have days saved up,” Oak told him.

“So you’re going to call in and leave your partner without a wingman because you drank like a fish one night? You aren’t who I thought you were,” Peterman countered.

“Yeah.” Bright words of wisdom from Sommerset.

“What—I mean, who—did you think I was?”

Peterman spared him a look as he manhandled them through the crowd and into the cooler night air of the parking lot. “An officer.”

“Pfft. That’s a given captain. I have a badge and everything. It’s super shiny.”

“Mine is too,” Sommerset chimed in.

“Fantastic. Neither of you can hold your liquor, and now I’m going to have two of the three stooges in my backseat.”

“How ’bout you join me in the back seat, hm?” Oak wasn’t positive, but he had the sinking suspicion that he’d regret that offer tomorrow. He ran the words over in his inebriated mind. Nope, they sounded good. Really, really good. Think of all the things they could do in the backseat of Peterman’s car.

“Who’d drive you home if we were all in the backseat?”

“You missed the point completely,” Oak complained.

“No, I don’t think I did.”

He shoved Sommerset into the backseat, policeman style with his hand on his head to keep Sommerset from bumping it on the way in. Sommerset sprawled, laughing as the door closed behind him. He maneuvered Oak to the other side.

“What? You get me drunk, and I don’t even get a goodnight kiss?” Oak asked feeling a little sloppy. The captain wasn’t standing still, was he? It was hard to tell. He glared at Oak for several seconds, letting Oak’s request sink into his own head. Oak slapped a hand over his mouth. Oh shit, he knew that one would haunt him later. That’s why he started laughing. Of course, that was why he was laughing and not because he’d just come out of the closet to his captain in a big way.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Get in.”

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Shameless Pimping

Hey all! Today, I'm using my normal Wednesday spot to shameless pimp out a super author and an all-around stand-up gal, Lisa Orchard. Her new book, THE SUPER SPIES AND THE CAT LADY KILLER, is middle grade fiction, available now from Astraea Press. Okay, okay, so it's not the "wicked" stuff you come here to find, but you probably know some kids, right? Check out THE SUPER SPIES AND THE CAT LADY KILLER

This book opens in a small town in Michigan where fifteen-year-old Sarah Cole is stuck spending the summer at her Aunt and Uncle’s with her sister, Lacey. She’s not happy with the situation until she befriends a girl named Jackie. The three girls stumble upon the ruthless murder of a reclusive neighborhood woman. One of the officers investigating the crime believes the girls are responsible for her death. Fearing that this officer will frame them for the murder, the girls organize their own detective squad. They become the Super Spies and start their own fact-finding mission.  The Super Spies can’t understand why anyone would want to murder the “Cat Lady” until they start digging into her past and discover a horrible crime that happened thirty years ago. They uncover a connection between the two crimes and attempt to bring this information to the police, only to be reprimanded for meddling in the inquest. Not only are the girls upset by the admonition, but they also struggle with the fact that their exuberant investigating could provide a legal loophole allowing the killer to go free. To make matters worse, the police don’t even believe them. Frustrated by this turn of events, the Super Spies realize it’s up to them to snare the Cat Lady killer. 

Monday, March 5, 2012

Grandma Time!!!

I am going to be a grandma! Yep, I sure am.

And since I am, of course, waaaaaaay too young to be a grandma, I will be called something other than Granny or Grandma. Not even a Nana. Nope.

I've told the parents-to-be that I will not be babysitting that often. I have NO intention into getting suckered into raising another child. Don't get me wrong. There's nothing like raising children--along with the highs and lows--as we all know.

But do we really want to keep doing it? Uhhhh...NOPE!

So I'll buy a lot of cute stuff for the baby and give lots of hugs and kisses. But there will be very little diaper changing and burping and walking around the room to soothe its ills. NOPE! Oh, I'll take lots of pics, too. I just don't want to be responsible for raising this one.

The good thing is that I honestly believe my baby girl is going to be a great mom. I always thought that she would be. And the daddy? I like him. I really really do. He's handsome, intelligent. Has a great job and he LIKES me. lol Yep. He likes me. He listens to me. And he LOVES my baby girl. lol So all is good.

Anyone got any great grandma advice for me?

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Deep Dark Secrets... or just vague dingy places

Ten truths about me right this second...

1. It's 7:28, my kids just went to school. Although one came running back after having forgotten her glasses (she wears contacts but takes them "just in case"), and I had to braless and barefoot-drive her to the bus stop in my pjs, while the other one was freaking out because the big yellow had already arrived.

2. I'm debating the wisdom of going back to bed because I'd rather pretend to sleep than work through my current brain-stall on an unnamed manuscript for a new publisher. Why? Because I procrastinate when I'm stressed and I have a deadline for another book in a month, which is putting me in a tailspin. Why again? Because it's going to be a m/f/m science-fiction-y type book and I've never written one before, but it's coming due and I won't work on it until the unnamed one is finished.

3. Deep cleaning my house sounds appealing to me at the moment, but I'm way more interested in the French press that is brewing my coffee. Ever notice how snobby those presses are (not because they're French, mind you, but because they're all posh and yet that's the only kind of maker I have because I'm cheap and won't buy another one until this one breaks)? They withhold luscious coffee from you until they are good and ready, at the expense of cooling down your brew. Pshaw.

4. My favorite part of the coffee is the Almond Joy creamer I'm going to put in it. When International Delights takes away this "seasonal" invention, I'm going to cry real tears. But also, Dunkin Donuts Dark Brew is way better than the standard Dunkin Donuts Brew. There's more body to it to hold up to my sweet creamer. And sludge. I love coffee sludge because it means my coffee is appropriately strong. Like you can walk on it without Jesus' help.

5. There's a red helium heart balloon still floating around in my living room because the thing won't die and I can't bring myself to end its life before its time is up. But every time I look at it, I feel guilty because the lady who sent it to me wants to get it on in a bow-chicka-bowwow kind of way that I'm just not feeling.

6. I'm actually looking at the jar of peanut butter I keep by my chair where I work as though it will give me inspiration for another point on my ten things right now list, because I think maybe choosing ten things was a little over ambitious of me, but now that I've committed, I won't back down. Speak to me, Jiff.

7. My daughter woke up this morning and her first words were, "Mom, what is Crying Mother Three?" And I said, "Really sad." She's all, "But I had a dream about it and it meant something. I thought you'd know." To which I answered, "It must be sad to make three mothers dissolve into tears." And then my older daughter said, "You've seen Crying Mother and Crying Mother II, now in theaters Friday it's Crying Mother Three in 3D." And added in her normal voice, "Why would anyone want to see two hours of a woman sobbing uncontrollably." This is how I started my morning.

8. I woke up with, and cannot shake (GUH!) the granola ad song, "My heart skips a beat. My heart skips a beat. My heart is playing tricks on me..." and that's all I remember of it so it keeps replaying. And now that I think about it, if your food is causing heart palpitations, maybe you shouldn't be eating it. Consult your doctor before taking on a new diet regiment that could result in arrhythmia, y'all.

9. I just got a new deck of Brian Froud Oracle cards (tarot) which are super cute and one of them has a "zero" card which is supposed to be like your fairy guide. Then you draw it on there and go "Hey this is my fairy guide" and I think, given that it's Brian Froud, that my fairy guide ought to be a laughing naked fairy girl with wings and some cute furry creatures, but it's not. It's a squat round dude with pointy ears and he looks like this (because I drew him). And now I'm wondering if it's a subconscious reflection on how I see myself.

10. I love watching The Biggest Loser, but every time I turn it on, I'm eating something. Like dinner. Or crap I shouldn't be eating and then I feel guilty about eating and telling them via the TV that they're complainers and should be trying harder because their lives are at stake, yo! Which then I feel bad about and put what I'm eating away so that I'm not a complete hypocrite because maybe I belong on that show.

And there you have it. The deep thoughts of Mia on a Thursday morning. You could get lost in there so I hope you took a flashlight.