American Idol, Brockmann, and Woe

I'm going to preface this by telling you that I almost missed American Idol last night (no big deal, really) but LittleGirl IM'd me from the family room and I trudged in, laptop in hand, to watch that NIT tell his comforting, kind mother, "Don't touch me!" on national TV. What. A. Douche. Where's Shirley! There is your D. of the Week.

Ok anyway, while Simon Cowell was drooling over the pretty brunettes (man does he have a thing for brown eyed girls) I happened across a review on Dark of Night.

I adore Suze Brockmann. I love her deep pov, her ability to take on the mindset of each character, her interwoven story lines, her guys and gals who BRIM with weakness while conversely bursting with physical and intellectual strength, and of course, I adore that she delivered the goods: a gay character that everyone in America liked and allowed into their reading lives. I mean: Brockmann is one of my heroes. Plus, she's always working to benefit others, either by setting up the Swabbies to find bone marrow donors or giving proceeds to MASSEquality~She's just .... OK ... Yes: Total girl crush.

What the hell am I talking about...oh. Yeah. So LAST night I've got one eye on American Idol and one on this review.

Things to note:

• I didn't follow the kerfuffle about this book
• I'm addicted to this series and have read each book a couple/few times
• I'm late reading Into the Fire and I'm reading it RIGHT NOW so this is very fresh
• I love certain story lines and, yes, I have expectations
• And this is the important thing: I like when author's pull the rug out from under me (unless it's Butch/Vicious or the ghosting of jane or anything JR Ward does. Just. Kidding....but not really.)
  
  

In one single paragraph in the review, while some tool was trying to sing for the judges and I wasn't paying attention, every single surprise and secret was reveal. And I didn't notice until the words made there way through my ADD filter...think 5 second delay...and then having gotten to the bottom of the paragraph my eyes went all roundy and....SHIIIIIITTTTTTT! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Noo. no. oh.

Crap.


I mean. The entire book is ruined for me.

I haz a sad, bordering on truly pissed off, because I think this particular surprise twist must be read to be appreciated. I need to trust Brockmann to walk me through it. I need to be inside that story to forgive, forget, and embrace this new idea.

Wah.

Therefore, in the future, I promise, as god is my witness, that I will put a spoiler notice on my reviews (where necessary). Big fat SPOILER notice.

And this is PRECISELY why I didn't give away the ending to Death of A Pirate King. Spoilers undermine the hard work the author did to prepare us for the surprise, twist, switch, what ever. MEA CULPA...for what ever I may have done in the past.

SHIT. I'm so bummed. I mean Brockmann...we have to TRUST her to deliver. And now. I'm going into the book soured.

Boo.

/rant.

Love is Random

I need to give three of these out.

The first is for Jenre whose blog is just fabulous. She's smart, she's Well Read, she asks thought provoking questions, and she's never afraid to be honest in her opinion. At the same time, she's a nice chick.

The second is for Shirley! over at the Lisp (I admit to spending far too much time there). My favorite segments are Tuesday's Child and Gay Check. Mwah. Loves me some Shirley.

Last...Matthew Melmon Scribbles Madly. Just because.

I think there are some kind of rulz for this thing, but I don't like rulz. They sound like werk.

ManLoveMonday: JL Langley Guest Hostess!

First off: Congrats to NoseInABook friend of the blog J.L.Langley for wining:

2008 #1 Readers Choice Award The Englor Affair

2008 also saw the Tin Star as the number one seller at a Different Light in SF. (I got the above info from my pal TPig. He keeps me in the know.)


JL offered to post an exclusive for today's ManLoveMonday. YAY~!

So here's the deal with JL Langley, in case you don't know:

JL always goes the distance. She takes risks. She's an old school romance reader and it's clear in her books that she understands how to develop good, old fashion tension. (Merow) From shape shifters to spaceship captains, from cowboys to Indians, JL writes m/m stories that take your breath away and leave you tapping your toes, waiting for more. She explores a variety of sexual dynamics in the relationships she creates, her characters are regular joe's or kings and princes, and they always exhibit depth of character. Fraility. Resolve. Just. Ok. Gush.


MORE MORE MORE.

::ahem::


So today JL Langley has given us some deleted scenes from The Broken H


This scene was cut from the poker party, where Shane and Gray go to The Tin Star:

They were the first ones to arrive at the Tin Star. When they got to the back porch of the ranch house, the back door was open just a bit. Through the small space Gray could see Jamie’s back. He was in a black T-shirt and jeans and on the ass of his jeans was a tanned hand…Ethan. Gray glanced back up. Yep, Ethan’s other hand was in the middle of Jamie’s back. They were kissing. Gray hated to intrude, but the two cases of beer where getting heavy. “Uh, knock, knock.”

Jamie spun around, pot holder on one hand, spatula in the other, grin on his face. “Oh hey, y’all. Come on in.”

Gray nudged the door the rest of the way open with his boot. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Ethan stepped around Jamie smiling. His hair was damp, like he’d just gotten out of the shower and he was in denim shorts and a pull over shirt. “Nope, don’t apologize. If you hadn’t interrupted, Jamie would’ve burnt the cookie.”

“Oh shit! The cookies!” Jamie ran to the oven.

Ethan shook his head, chuckling and took a case of beer from Gray.

They all exchanged pleasantries and somehow or another Gray ended up helping Jamie in the kitchen, while Shane helped Ethan set up the card table in the den.

Gray was shuffling around things in the refrigerator so that he could fit all the beer in it and Jamie was transferring the cookies to a plate.

“Hey, Gray?” Jamie’s voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear him.


He put the last of the longnecks in the fridge and closed the door. “Yeah?” He walked over to the counter where Jamie was standing and stole a cookie and took a bite. Damn, the man could cook! “Mmm… these are good.”

“Thanks. They’re just plain ole chocolate chip.”

“Plain ole nothing. They’re delicious.”

“Thanks.” Jamie smiled and leaned in, pretty blue eyes, just twinkling. “So, what’s the deal with you and Shane? You never did say, last week. Have y’all always had a…you know a…thing?”

Gray chuckled. “A thing?”

Jamie groaned and rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. And no, it’s a new thing. But it’s kinda like you and Ethan, I’ve had a crush on him for years.”

“In that case, I wish you the best of luck and hope that your thing turns out like my thing did.” Jamie started shaking his head, a huge smile on his face. “Oh, God that sounds terrible.”

He patted Jamie on the shoulder. “That’s okay, I have a thing for things.”

Jamie groaned. “Oh, now that was bad! Trust me when I tell you, that you make a better sheriff than a comedian.”

The back door opened. “I am here! Let the party begin!” John, Jamie’s older brother, stepped into the kitchen arms wide.

Jamie snorted.

Gray took another bite of cookie and waved.

Royal McCabe, John’s foreman, stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He tipped his head slightly in greeting. “Hey Gray, Hey Jamie.” He held out a case of beer. “Where do you want these?”

“Just put them on the table and I’ll put them up. Ya’ll go on in the den. I’m just getting the chips, salsa and cookies ready to take in there.”

“And beer!” Ethan shouted from the den.

Jamie grinned. “And beer.

This scene was originally right before Katlyn Hunter brings the boys lemonade white they are moving Gray’s things into Shane’s place:

Gray took a drink of his own water, then nodded. He cocked his head to the side, staring at McCabe’s shoulder. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo.”

McCabe looked over his shoulder and shrugged. “Got it when I was a kid.”

Shane leaned back to see. McCabe was wearing a gray tank top, the top of a wing or something sticking out. “What is it?”

“It’s sort of a memorial for an old friend.” McCabe reached behind him and pulled his tank top off, showing them the tattoo. It was an angel with the name “Leslie” written underneath it.

Jamie came around to see. “Cool.”

McCabe shrugged and put his shirt back on. “No big deal.” There was an awkward silence. It was obvious that everyone wanted to know who Leslie was and equally obvious by McCabe’s reaction, that Leslie was someone important.

Gray, bless him broke the awkward silence by grinning over at Shane. “Maybe I should get one.”

Shane grinned back. “Why?”

“Just a thought.” Gray shrugged.

Stepping back, Jamie took his water back from Ethan. “I have one.”

John scoffed. “You do not!”

“Yes, I do!”

“Since when?” John countered.

The younger man rolled his eyes. “Since about three years ago.”

Shane bit back a chuckle, half expecting Jamie to stick his tongue out at his brother.


“Where?” Gray asked.
“Er…” Blushing, Jamie looked at Ethan, then back to his brother. “On my butt.”

John smiled, a gleam in his eye as he stared at his younger brother. “Prove it.”

Ethan groaned. “Oh brother! Here we go.”

Shane chuckled. He knew exactly what Ethan meant. He’d known John and Jamie for years. The brother’s were close but the two of them like to pick at the other…John in particular.

Turning around, Jamie pulled his shorts down, revealing one muscled butt cheek and a tattoo on his hip. It was the Tin Star Brand, with “Property of Ethan Whitehall,” underneath.

Wow, that was sexy. Maybe Gray getting a tattoo wasn’t a bad idea. Shane looked over McCabe’s head to Gray. “You could always get the Broken H brand on your ass with ‘Property of Shane Cortez’ underneath. I could go for that.”

Gray chuckled. “What’s wrong with you getting property of Gray Hunter?”

Pulling his pants up, Jamie turned his bright red face back to John. “Ha! Told you!”

“Nice Ass.” McCabe said.

Shane’s mouth dropped open and he looked at McCabe. The man had sounded totally serious.

Growling, Ethan stepped closer to Jamie.

“Uh, thanks?” Jamie’s face got even redder.

John looked like someone had slapped him. Staring at McCabe just like Shane had been seconds earlier, John frowned. “I'm feeling like the odd man out all of a sudden.”

“Here let me help you with that.” Turning towards John, McCabe grabbed him by the back of the head and planted a kiss right on his mouth, tongue an all from the looks of it.

John blinked, looking shocked as hell, but he didn’t pull away immediately.

After several seconds John shoved back, practically landing in Gray’s lap.

Gray yelled, “Holy shit!” and caught John.

Shane moved back, just in case John came to his senses and decked McCabe.

Jamie gasped, his hand flying to his mouth.

Ethan let out a long whistle, meeting Shane’s eyes. “Damn, this is getting to be quite a show. Who would have thought moving could be so entertaining?”

This scene was deleted from the campaign party, before Shane gets the call from his sister:

Ethan groaned. “Oh god! We aren’t back to that are we?”

“Back to what? I agree with Jamie, it is weird.” Gray glanced over at John who was conversing with Gray’s parents.

Jamie’s eyes widened, staring up at his partner as if to say, I told you so. “See! I’m not the only one who’s freaked out about it! Can’t believe you aren’t. John’s not gay.” Jamie hissed.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “I never said he was. But he’s not exactly homophobic either. The man is and always has been…”

Oooh this was getting good. Gray arched a brow. “What?”

Ethan shrugged. “Open minded?” He grabbed a cookie off of Jamie’s plate and popped it into his mouth. “Stop being melodramatic.”

Jamie groaned. “Open minded is one thing, kissing strange men is another.”

“I thought you liked McCabe?” Gray frowned at Jamie. Ethan was right, he was being rather melodramatic.

“I do, he’s a nice guy. But…dang it! That’s my brother. He’s not gay!”

Gray smiled and caught Ethan’s gaze. “He’s sort of hung up on the “not gay” thing, huh?”

Ethan shook his head and grinned. “Don’t try to understand it. It’s a weird Jamie thing, that is totally unexplainable.” He winked at Jamie.

Jamie snorted. “I’m going to go talk to Melissa Hatcher.”

Gray chuckled and watched Jamie stride off towards the pretty blonde holding court near the door. Gray leaned closer to Ethan. “So whata ya think?”

Ethan shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I like McCabe. I think he might actually be a good match for John. God knows John needs someone to take him in hand. I know for a fact John has,” he shrugged, “shall we say dabbled with the same sex back in college.” Ethan shrugged again, “Do not tell Jamie that, he’ll freak.”

YAY! Thanks Jen!!!


On a final note, I have it on good authority that JL will post a Valentine treat for everyone very soon. She's writing something special for me Fiction with Friction and, while I'm not going to give any specifics...HOLY MOLY I'M REALLY WANTING TO READ IT. HINT. HINT.

mmmmmm........

Happy Monday and Congrats to our friend, Jen. Mwah.

Oh No She Di'n't

Did she just say that? O.M.G.

Oh I stole this from someone else. Hey thanks.

Hi and Good Morning

Last night, I received an email from Shannon....Jeepers, I am such a bad blogger. I had forgotten that she'd devised this HYSTERICAL mad libs for her day at the DIK Island. Luckily, I was able to put my two cents in and ... If you have a second or two, please stop by and read it. I'm going to steal this idea from her for next week.

On the reading front. No news.

On the blogging front, Wave has an interview with Nicole Kimberling of Blind Eye Books. I read about it in my mm/fan/yahoo/group thing and I thought: shit I need to review Wicked Gentlemen ! And I will. I swear. I'm waiting for my surprise guest/interview assistant to finish about 10 projects. Then we will whip together a blogtacular love fest for Ginn Hale.

In other news, TPig has a lively conversation going on over at his place (and I ask you, what else is new? He's a live wire. mwah.)

And...that's about it. I'm going to be interviewed and start pimping my book over the next two weeks so...you'll be seeing my secret identity a lot more. Please do not be afraid. Say hello. Heh.

I'll be in the LA area the first week of Feb with my man, G. Our plan is to hang out with some very wild women. I'm bringing a camera to document lewd behavior. I promise. Cannot wait.

And...well I'm editing this week so I'll leave you with a muse. I wonder what his tattoo says?




Property of lisabea?

Inauguration Day 2009

I heart America.

OK ok ok. Yes problems, economy, war, divisiveness, YES.
But to feel inspired as a nation?
Priceless.

I'm eating a hot dog and am utterly riveted to my t.v.

ManLoveMonday: I Have a Dream....

More terrific stuff from ManLoveRomance Press. And what better day than this significant one~ on the eve of change~ for NIAB and all my friends, both old and new, to come together in celebration of hope, diversity, commitment, charity, mutual respect...

I could go on...and on....but I'll contain myself. (just. barely.)

Welcome friends from MLR Press. And hand me a tissue, I always cry at weddings. ::sniff::

Double Your Pleasure

This is like the steak specials at my local market: buy one, get one free. When you buy this book, 100% of the proceeds go to the Lambda Legal fund, to help in their fight against California's Proposition 8. That's a good thing in itself, as I'm sure you will agree. But, not only are you making a donation to a cause we all care deeply about, you also get—this is the FREE part—a collection of 20 stories from an
elite list of M/M and LGBT writers. How can you beat a deal like that?

And what a collection! There's surely something here for every taste: man on man and woman on woman; fantasy and funny and sizzling and sweet. Swans and Snow Queens and salty sailors and slithering serpents, oh my! And Holy Macaroni, but you're going to have to buy the book to figure that out. French Legionnaires do it in the mud; little girls grow up married from childhood, and first timers discover the magic. All of the myriad elements of love lost and found and refined and redefined. I could go on and on, too, but every story here is a treasure on its own; together, they make up one of those rare "read-over-and-over-and-keep-forever" books.

I recommend stocking up. Get some steaks while you're at it, you're going to be doing a lot of curling up.

~ Victor J. Banis ~
Author of The Man from C.A.M.P., Lola Dances and Deadly Nightshade

----

Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue: twenty tales — funny, sweet, erotic, poignant — from some of the best and brightest writers in GLBT romance. Never has support for a good cause been more delicious, more delectable than in this generous helping of life — and love — affirming stories.

~Josh Lanyon
Author of the Adrien English Mystery Series and Man, Oh Man! Writing M/M for Kinks and Ca$h

The following authors have donated stories to the "I DO!" anthology in support of Lambda Legal Fund, which will receive all profits from the anthology. Printing and distribution costs have been kindly donated by MLR Press.



ORDER THE E-BOOK

ORDER THE PRINT EDITION


Alex Beecroft: Desire and Disguise
Sexual starvation makes for strange bedfellows in this 18th
Century tale of love and despair.

Charlie Cochrane: The Roaming Heart
Sometimes you shouldn't believe everything you read in the
gossip columns.

Fiona Glass: Salad Days
A fennel bulb causes havoc between two lovers in this
'kitchen-sink' style romp.

Jeanne Barrack: Finally Forever
A dream destroyed. A promise fulfilled. In today's America, there
are still some places where wishes come true.

P.A. Brown: The Mistake
A hungry West Hollywood hustler, a hot cop and a pair of
keyless handcuffs come together in a Hollywood motel room.

Erastes: The Snow Queen
The Snow Queen is impervious to love. Josh isn't.

Tracey Pennington: Lindorm's Twin
To save two kingdoms, an outcast prince without a name and a
lonely young man half-freed from enchantment must outwit a
serpentine king and his sorceress spouse.

Clare London: Outed
Guy said afterwards it was a relief to him that someone finally said something, but did it have to be Auntie Queenie's apparently artless comment, right in the middle of her eightieth birthday celebration tea?

Sharon Bidwell: Swansong
Richard believes what little love he had in his life has withered and died, but now the time has come for him to sing his own song.

Lisabet Sarai: Making memory
A workaholic city girl facing her father's senility and a middle-aged widow from down-east Maine learn that love has no boundaries and that only the present matters.

Storm Grant: Lust in Translation
Sex, drugs, and a blinding reaction.

Marquesate: Code of Honour
The legion's motto was "Legio Patrio Nostra", but with Sergent Roux, Joe found more than just his home.

Lee Rowan: Wedding Announcement
For Kevin, telling his father the truth was more unnerving than anything he'd ever faced on the battlefield.

ZA Maxfield: Tango and Temptation
Dance and dishonesty bring two men closer than they necessarily want to be in this contemporary story of choosing between what is easy and what is real.

Moondancer Drake: True Love
Shona and Kai discover that even though their dream of having a child together is about to come true, not all dreams come with a perfect ending.

Mallory Path: Rules of the Game
When words fail, Charlie must come up with a new way of finding out what his partner really wants.

Emma Collingwood: Semi-detached
Is gay marriage a matter of equality, commitment or home improvement?

Allison Wonderland: Holy Macaroni (and Cheese)
At the ripe old age of six, two girls decide to jump the broom.

Jerry L. Wheeler: Templeton's In Love
A farewell concert frames a tale of two reunited lovers.

Cassidy Ryan and Zoe Nichols: Better than beautiful
Becca is busy planning her wedding to Charlotte, but Charlotte has been making plans of her own.

Excerpt from 'The Snow Queen' by Erastes

I was actually shaking when I met Josh the next night. All I had done was obsess about every word I'd said, every cool look he'd given me. He was so damned self-assured with his lazy drawl and the way he shielded his eyes with his lashes, that I felt sure I looked as gauche and as inexperienced as I felt. He'd said nothing about himself, either, I realised. Offered nothing up other than where he worked and how much he hated it. I didn't know if he'd had no men in his life, or a thousand. I didn't even know if he was available. I wondered what he'd thought of my constant nervous chattering.

He'd suggested the restaurant, an eclectic place in Camden, Scandinavian and German with a mix of northern European beer and food. We were distracted from saying much of anything to each other much while we discussed the overlarge Poirot look-alikes squashed into the tables and the pretty Aryan lovelies (who were probably from Chelsea or Camden) in starched white aprons who took our order. New restaurants are a boon to new relationships, there's so much else to talk about.

Once we got to the main course, our chat about the menu and where I'd travelled in Europe fizzled to a halt. This is it, I thought, Eeyore fashion, I'm boring and I can't even sustain a conversation with a bloke that's not about my daughter or food. So I took his hand. I couldn't think what else to do. His hand curled around mine and he smiled.

The rest of the meal was sinfully short. Beneath the table his lower leg pressed hard against mine and our hands didn't leave each other once, not even when he paid. Out on the pavement a cab rolled towards us, its yellow sign fierce and predatory in the snowy dark and as I opened the door for him, he turned his head and kissed me, the merest brush that might almost – but not quite – could have been accidental.

~~

Some eternity later, he rolled over and kissed me for what could have been for the hundredth time. His lips were cool, his eyes closed. I still felt awkward; it had been a long, long time since I'd had a 'morning after' thing even with a woman, and it seemed strange – almost sissy - to be affectionate in this way.

"Breakfast?" I said. He grunted and propped himself up by the elbows.

"Nice place."

"You said that, last night."

"Must be getting old." He grabbed me by the arm and pinned me under him, and I wasn't complaining. After a while I even let myself join in.

When I finally crawled out of bed my legs were jelly, but I still wasn't complaining. Josh was so different to Damian. With him it had been all secrecy and haste, nothing personal, nothing affectionate. Bathroom stalls and alleyways, lifts and rooftops. He'd never invited me to his place and had never accepted an invitation to mine. Comparing the meagre two men I'd been involved with wasn't strictly fair, but Sean's relaxed attitude was perfect compared with Damian, who had always seemed ashamed of what we did.

The phone rang as I stepped into the shower and I left it to ring, I didn't need to pick Bess up until ten and until then I was going to enjoy the time we had left. It stopped short after a few rings, so I guessed it was nothing urgent.

The shower restored me somewhat, and I stuck my head around the bedroom door. "Eggs and bacon all right? I'm not doing anything with maple… What are you doing?" Josh was almost dressed, and he'd gone away again, the clouds drawing over his face as he buttoned his shirt.

"I'm going home. Seems I made a mistake." Then he stopped and looked up at me. "No. That's not true is it? Seems YOU made a mistake. The only mistake I made was answering the phone." He walked towards me and past me into the hall. "Oh – and thinking you were actually available."

My heart gave a lurch. "You answered the phone?"

"Yeah," he said, but his drawl was sarcastic. "I know I shouldn't, but hell, I didn't know I shouldn't. Make yourself at home – didn't you say?"

"Who was it?" It was as pointless a question as any, but I was stalling, trying to jump into a pair of track suit bottoms.

"Oh, I think you know. It was your wife. Seems there's things you hadn't told me. She seemed pretty pissed off, Sean – why do you think that is?"

Thanks to everyone who contributed. And thanks again to my pea shooter state, the smart and sassy Connecticut, as well as the fabulous Commonwealth of Massachusetts, where on this day, at this time, in these United States...gay marriage is protected by law.

And thanks to Alex, who put this post together from across the pond.

Happy MLK Day!

Happy Birthday Baby

And now....in the blink of an eye....19.

I took this very seriously.

Yes. We can.



But..uh...then I wasted untold writing time...



Together we can...make cool posters. Obamicon.Me, baby.



Tootsie wants to make a difference poster, too!

PS: Thanks Shirley!

A Small Thing to Note.

First, I'd like to point out that I didn't post anyone's private email. Surely Jane knew when she pressed send that her words would be splashed by the intended receiver. It's a given thing.

However, in the wake of our conversations over the last 9 months...about online behavior and consequence, professionally as well as personally, I guess it doesn't surprise me that this http://logophilos.net/blather/?p=821 finally appeared. Nor should it surprise you that I needed to share it.

Is it the right thing for me to do? My conscience is that fulcrum, weighing the pros and cons. I'm going to do it anyway. Someone will let me know if I've misstepped. *G*

I'm not sure how I feel, overall, about that post. I don't wish ill on anyone. But the truth is, in my own life, I have to believe that we can be respectful and treat each other with dignity. We can argue with civility and still be entertaining, thoughtful, and funny. That on occasion, we can even lose our shit and blather and swear like a sailor and use phrases like sometimes I pee standing up, and still, at the end of the day, reflect on our actions, learn, forgive, and try not to repeat our mistakes.

Anyway. Enough is enough. At least for tonight.

I think...as I write this difficult story about reconciliation and forgiveness....that the slices I've witnessed people inflicting, and yes, have even inflicted on people myself, are cumulative, the healing prolonged, and the scars last. I've said this before. We carry these things into our real lives and the constant anger and discord are exhausting.

I'm not a DA follower or participant...I don't know the ladies over there, although I did make free with their bathtub of alcohol while we were in San Francisco (thankyou), I don't know what transpired to bring this about, but I believe that Jane followed her conscience.

And in the long run, that's all anyone can hope to do.

Eep.

Well that just yanks my chain. Embedding Disabled Crap. Just click on little ole Beck. Jesus. Christ. Why can't I get this to work today? WHY? Just click HERE..and go see little ole Beck. He's so sweet. And Youtube should be apprised of the fact that I am a woman on the edge of reason.

Smack the Shit Out of Them or LOL???

You be the judge.

ManLoveMonday: Define Quickie

So Hello and sorry I'm late. Been a wacky kinda weekend.

The January offering of Liquid Silver's year long fireman series, HEARTS AFIRE, arrived in my email box. Yesterday I read Bonnie Dee's latest story, Ignite. (I, er, didn't get to the second story in this download, T.A. Chase's "Where the Devil Dances")

Um. Did you ever get a book to review and it started out promising and then..it went to hell in a hand basket, but you kept on reading because

• you had nothing to post about for your big day and company was a comin'
  
• the storyline was compelling; there were good elements; great possibilities for conflict!!
• you expected it to get better
  
• you've had a previous good experience with the author's work
  
• you really really really REALLY want to like it
  
• it had the magickal healing fuzznuck story line and you just can't resist that trope?
• you were slackjawed
  

Well. That happened to me last night.

On the heels of the Dakota Flint conversation where I say I'm not mean ::choke gasp cough:: I'm going to do my utmost to remain...calm...while I review this story because--

well, because I choose to.

I have a confession to make.

I only read the first sentence of the blurb, and I was intrigued and excited. Why read more of the blurb when I have the book!

Fireman. Firestarter. When the two come together, their world ignites!

Look at that excellent conflict!! A world of possibilities! YAY! So I didn't didn't get to this bit:

Alan Delaine is a firestarter, not an arsonist. He manifests powerful energy when he experiences strong emotion and things in his vicinity ignite. Heʼs been held captive in an unidentified facility, where he was tested physically and psychologically. When he meets Pete, heʼs been living on the run after escaping the lab.

I should have read the rest of the blurb.

Naturally I assumed this was going to be an entirely different kinda thing. But the book opens with, hands down, my least favorite kind of love interest: the suicidal hero. Immediately, I find nothing remotely likable about Alan. I don't go for the suicidal guy, sorry. And while there's some hurt/comfort a comin' and I do very often love a bleak guy who has grit, I didn't know this character. So this story opens and I think:spineless.

The Back Story

Alan is the paranormal hero with no control over his emotions...and these roiling boiling emotions cause spontaneous fires to bloom in his vicinity. It's a skill you'd think he could control after years of being taught how to control them. But, er, no. So, some years back, Alan was kidnapped/stolen by a secret...government/mafia/scientific... thing and held in a lab/prison. He was poked, prodded, and probed for some huge time frame. I NEED CLARITY. ::ahem:: Left to a fate unimaginable...uh he's really addicted to day time television... he escapes the confines of the 'lab' one afternoon on his way to the pool for a swim. Out in the real world, he's ill equipped, out of control, without resources, and miserable. Time to kill himself.

Enter Pete the fireman. I..yi yi. Pete saves him, helps him escape from the emergency room, makes out with him, and then invites this possibly crazed arsonist homeless suicidally depressed stranger into his home for a stay.

Pete makes Alan bacon and eggs and Alan is cured from his depression. Wow. That was easy..

So....When Alan starts rambling about that lab, I scratched my head (I was already scratching my head, believe you me) secret facility? I wondered. What the fuck is this? Did I skip ahead to the next story by accident?


Thoughts of a would be reviewer/blogger/reader/writer

I began to think about a couple of things yesterday as I read this story. First, I had Angela James' excellent post on what to do with your rough draft rattling around my head. Because truly , Ignite read as exactly that: a draft. There's actually the making for a great story lurking inside this thing. I'm not kidding, and I don't mean to be...mean. But the pacing, the too fast narrative, the action scenes that read like blocking, the telling not showing, the lack of credibility in these characters, the repeat words...I wanted to red pen it and send it back and say: This thing could really work. I can't wait to read it when it's done.

But, hey man, who the fuck am I to say that? It's not my place. I'm just a reader. reviewer. blogger. writer. However. I can't help myself.




The second thing I thought about was the nature of these little shorty stories. Months and months ago I reviewed an anthology. One story stood out particularly well and I mentioned that of the many clever things that made the thing nom nom nommie, was that the unity of time, place, and characters held things together.

Well Bonnie uses those unities here, but the entire story was off. It seemed quick. As in...not well thought out, not planned, not finished, not enough space to give this thing it's wings. And that upsets me because I really dug that earlier book of hers. Why? Because it felt finished.

Also, I need to mention character believability. It's something I've been talking about lately. This fricken dude Alan tried to commit suicide, right? How can he, the next day, post his first hand job, suddenly be joking and back to his old sardonic self? That doesn't happen. I know this to be true.

Finally

Let's talk about sex, baby
Let's talk about you and me
Let's talk about all the good things
And the bad things that may be

This is graphic so avert thine eyes if you are easily offended by two men doooing eeeet

Alan moaned and shifted. He grabbed the backs of his thighs and pulled his legs higher until his heels rested on the pillow by his head. Pete’s breath caught at the erotic sight. Alan lifted his ass toward him, his hole clenching and relaxing in pulses around Pete’s exploring fingers.

So tight and so hot. He pumped in and out, pulling and stretching and adding another finger. His cock trembled and ached to be buried inside that tight channel, and all the while pulses of heat surged from Alan into him. Hope the sheets don’t catch fire. The thought would’ve made him smile if the possibility wasn’t genuine.

Pete withdrew his fingers and positioned himself over the other man, guiding his cock to his entrance. The tip breached the outer ring of muscle and pushed inside. So tight. So hot. Pete grabbed Alan’s legs for leverage and thrust deep, filling him. Their bodies came together, sliding on a slick of sweat. Waves of pleasure and pain flowed through him. His eyes closed and he sighed. He pulled out slowly and, with a grunt, plunged again into Alan’s molten core.

The other man moaned and pushed toward him. When Pete opened his eyes, Alan’s were squeezed shut in ecstasy.

Is it me? Is it? Because I'm not there with these guys. I'm removed. The fire and heat imagery should work because, yeah, the book is about fire and heat, right? But there's so much telling instead of showing that the sex act became choreography with out music: Interesting, but not really dance.

I'm sorry. It wasn't hot.





Stick a Fork In Me

Truly? This story needed more. More pages. More time. More editing. More believability. More depth. And even though the story was a quickie in length, it couldn't hold my attention and it took me all goddamn day to read it. Ignite hardly lit my fire. In fact, it left me cold. And I haz a sad.

Shit. Another author who runs away limping. But I cannot NOT tell readers how I feel because, and maybe I'm excusing my behavior, if I tell you this book is HAWTNESS etc... and y'all run out and buy it based on what I say, then...pfffttt....I may as well hang it up and go home.

Kthnxbia. Happy Monday!

::cough::

Name that Brew-haha.

In a perfect world, I'd have thought of this first.

OK. Thinking caps on! I'm typing and a tapping away on my distressed keyboard (I've worn the coating off parts of my keyboard. How the hell???) and I need your help!! Brew names. Clever stouts and porters and pale ales. Again: New England. Winter. M/M. Mmmmm.

Prize: Well, to be honest, the only prize I can afford to give is the knowledge that the name of your brew will be in my next book.

And, yes! I said next. I have a wee book coming out soon. It's not really a secret, because I'd like for all of you to read it (after I tie one on) but I'm maintaining the illusion of having a secret secret identity. If you're interested in hopping on the "mailing list" ::cough cough:: drop me an email.

Oh my. What if no one does? Heh.

Anyway. Back to the brew! Lagers? Wiessens?

Have a great weekend everyone.

You'll Go Blind Doing That

Some of you may recall my post last summer about the frownie face...Well I never did get the Lafont eye wear because these Fendi frames look so SMASHING on me. I did get the progressives (cuz I'm sooo progressive) and they are the biggest pain in the ass ever. Although, oh I look so learned!!

Progressives: See what this means, fer real, is that I wander around nodding at everyone, trying to locate the exact alignment for clarity...I still can't read with them on!! I find myself looking UNDER the frames to read. Tres useful.

However. I've been writing so much over the last three days that I groped around for these gems (cuz for the money I paid for these, they should be jewel encrusted) and am wearing my glasses. And I am appreciating not only their form, but their function. I can see!!! It's like...not really a miracle cuz I could see before. I'm not one of those folks who needs glasses all the time. I only need them when I'm tired or when I'm driving at night in the rain. Srsly. Or when I've been at the computer trying to put 5K down in 3 days (score).

Anywho...happy Thursday. I'm wearing my spectacles.

Onward with the story of two men....who are trying so hard not to fall in luuuuurrvvee.. mmmmm/mmmmm....Hey. One is wearing glasses!

What the heck is wrong with salsa chicken and rice?

There should be a third circle here that says:

Food I Scrape Into the Trash

(While Repeating the Words
I Swore I Would Never Say to My Own Children
When I Had Them)

Seeing Double

News Flash: I'm out of the loop.

I'm sure you all discussed these covers, at length, months ago.

I understand why I missed the boat, though. These books are identical. They even sound the same. Shit. How the hell am I supposed to differentiate?? I sent BigGirl to Border's with 8 bucks and my Border's card and wrote Dark Deeds at Dusk's Edge. And, pay attention here, Deeds isn't in either of the titles! That was an earlier book. No wonder she was confused.

What is wrong with romance marketing people? At this point... I can only tell these books apart by color. Let's call them the purple one and the green one.

Also... neither of these ab boyz resembles the characters they are meant to portray. Well, maybe the abs are correct....but..but...I hate this!! I do. Because I LOVE this series. WAAAH. And I can't tell the books apart!

There is a reason I liked the cover of Bowen's book. Oh I know, I know: You didn't like the purple; the cartoonie thing; the cross was phallic; the dude looks like Trent Reznor/Snape; and, hello!, he's a were wolf not a vampire (do these artists read the little forms the authors fill out?). Yet this thing screams WIN because it's a stand out.



OK.Whatever. I'm reading that book up top. The Purple One (the other purple one) and ... we'll see. Not starting off with the sheer strength that The Green One did. I'll let you know.

Click here to see Kresley's Immortals After Dark Series.

ManLoveMonday: Midnight Pondering

Ed. Note: Before you wonder: this is NOT a side taking on any one of any number of goings on in bloglandia anywhere that I know of..of course I don't know much of what is happening out there, so some wickedly ineffective disclaimer this is. Fail.

I haven't been wandering the blogging community much lately, as a few of you may have noticed. I've kept almost exclusively to my tight circle of friends due to my own hermit like behavior.

For a variety of reasons, I just don't go out much these days.

However...I was following a bit of a kerfuffle recently...actually I had no clue there was a kerfuffle...but I did check out the sitch after the fact and it never ceases to amaze me how willing folks are to stand up for their beliefs, to push up their sleeves, and rally to each others cause. Some great thinking and conversations happen. But the opposite is also true. People let it fly...and tempers can really get boiling. It's a bit alarming, isn't it? How accurately we clobber each other over words on a screen to make our point. How polarized we get over issues...and how nasty we're willing to be. In public. I'm guilty as hell as well.

These blog wars get so personal, don't they? Because, ultimately, what's a verbal attack if not personal?

It's not a big wide internet for the romance community. It's not. We squabble and bicker and make asses out of ourselves (yes, even me...remember Sometimes I pee standing up...jesus I can't believe I was so foul mouthed that evening but my DANDER was UP) and our words leave an impression. A lasting impression.

This evening I was mulling over whether or not I carry these experiences with me when I'm shopping over at Amazon, Samhain and Loose id, at Aspen or Amber or EC. It's a good thing to keep in mind as I make the transition to published ::cough:: author. And you know, I began to ponder what my pal Teddypig said back in...er...I think December (November??) during the last blog war I stuck my nose into. Review the writing not the writer.

Which I do do (yes. I said doo doo). I try to keep my personal knowledge separate from my review. I think I've been fairly sucessful, and when I'm not...I own up to it.

That said, I admit that I won't purchase books penned by certain authors based solely on their behavior in the public arena. And with information so immediate, and all these blog scrimmages running for days and days across the landscape of our internet community, personalities become visible, grudges carry, and attitudes change my understanding of people.

Now, you know that I'm not talking about adult level disagreements. I'm talking about folks acting like unapologetic douche bags. Whether they are arguing a specific point, or spewing their bad thinking...is it worth it for authors to do this? If they've offended my moral center, if I feel they've consistently crossed the line...I won't give them my money. Nope. Sorry. Nadda. Ain't going to do it. And see...I'm not telling YOU not to buy their books...It's ME not buying or reviewing the books. I keep it pretty simple.

My Real Life Experience!

One author whose work I won't EVER buy again solely based on public knowledge of his personal dumbassery is Orson Scott Card. Now I loved me some of that Ender's Game. Loved it. Bought it. Gave it as gifts. Put it on my Keeper Shelf. And then ... as Orson became a bigger and more well known (and richer) author....his private attitudes became public and I was HORRIFIED to find that I'd lined that homophobic prickweed's pockets with my CASH. I should be better than that. I should judge the quality of the books and not factor in what an oppressive asshat he is about sexuality..but evidentally ... that's impossible for me. I'm human. Do I care that he's mormon, or a dude, or white, or ugly? No. I care that he spreads hate. It offends me fundamentally.

Obviously, this knowledge can work in reverse. Sometime I find that I buy MORE of a specific author's books based on my personal history with that author.

A Hat Full of Sky

Enter Terry Pratchett, one of my fav authors ever. The Tiffany Aching Series. Guards! Guards! Reaper Man! Small Gods~I bought 'em and collected them, traded them and gave them and loved them....and then, oh noes, I began to noticed that the Disc World books were growing sort of meh ... and I stopped reading. Only to discover that Terry has Alzheimer's. How sad does that make me? And I feel like an insensitive cow for being so harshly judgmental of his more recent work. I mean, his books are the ones most stolen off my book shelves by BigGirl. She took ALL of them with her to Chicago. She needed them, she said, as her comfort reads when she was feeling homesick. Right there, I'm indebted forever to Pratchett for this shared experience with my eldest child. It's despairing to know of his private struggle, and yet I'm glad that I know, because not only will I pray for his health, I will line his pockets with my cash. He's a good egg.


Where the hell am I going with this anyway?

The m/m writing community is tiny. It's new and it's growing, but everyone basically knows each other, or of each other, or are somehow connected. It's a bit...incestuous. And when folks carry out drama on the internet stage to the amusement and horror and shock of the readerships,( because the readers ARE ON LINE fellahs, hello!), then, to my mind... with out a doubt, folks are begging readers to choose sides and make buying decisions.



As a blogger, I'm curious about all of us as readers. Do the buyers of the ebooks, all of us currently faced with the harsh reality of a global financial situation...all of us not so quick to spend that 4 or 6 or 8 bucks....react to this fighting and bitching and taking a stand? Do you care about these words used so eloquently as weapons to hurt and demean and conquer? And the name calling and the throwing of temper tantrums and..ok yes...the frothing at the mouth...does it change how you spend and what you are willing to spend your hard earned money on?

Because I'm curious to know if I'm the only one.

Finally, please note that I'm not saying we can't disagree or have debates....I certainly disagree with some of my very closest friends on some of my very favorite books and we've discussed how wrong they are and how right I am you fuckers we each have valid points. We've gotten heated and even gotten pissed. It's healthy to argue! We grow and learn and challenge our thinking. That's not what I'm talking about here. I'm talking about how much is too much and how does it change your willingness to spend.


PS~I'd like to thank that Shirley over at the lisp for the photo snatchin' and hours of entertainment. Mwah.

PPS. Sarah nomed me for a wassit over at preds&eds. I came in last last year. NO pressure, because frankly, I can make a nosepicker that says: Last place 2 years running!!!! That's hot.

PPSS~Thank you Sarah. Really and truly. That was incredibly sweet.

New Year's Resolution

I will continue to be smokin' hawt.

I will maintain my secret identity.

I will be more circumspect.



I will finish what I've started.

I will treat my friends with dignity.

I will not objectify teh mens.

I will be more sensitive.

I will make more time for vampires.

Oh yeah. And I'll get my pahtnah
to blog more. Heh.