Wonderment

Safely in Springtime

I survived another release day, and made it through the weekend after finishing yet another awfully hard revise. Now I can go back to actual creation, for some short while.

Unless, of course, I want to proof an omnibus. It’s gotta happen, and yet I have a deep and severe case of the Don’t Wannas. All I wanna do is write, dammit, preferably with some video game music going in the background.

I was real, real close to paying for a month or so of WoW this weekend too, but Borderlands scratched the itch. I’m still not sure if Blizzard deserves my cash. Until my conscience is easy on that account, I’m going to have to refrain.

Although listening to Darnassus music on loop is good for certain kinds of writing. Video game soundtracks are designed to be immersive and easily looped, which makes them great for wrestling with plot problems.

Anyway, I should send off the revision today and take the dogs for a walk. I’m slow and logy this morning, probably because of the wild weather sweeping through. My writing partner reported big fat wet snowflakes (someone’s shaking Baba Yaga’s counterpane) this morning, though they didn’t stick; my sinuses warm me there will be barometric fluctuations. Fortunately I’ve written with atmospheric pressure changes sending spikes through my skull before.

It might even add something to a combat scene. Who knows?

Anyway, the wild weather and plum blossoms have us safely in springtime. The dogs are gleeful and we did a lot of cleaning this past weekend. There was even mopping, which is one of my Least Favorite Things, especially since I didn’t have the damn spoons for it all last year. Bit by bit, the rebuilding continues.

Time to throw another hoodie on and get out the door. I mean, the dogs could technically walk themselves, but they don’t make good choices. It’s best I go along to keep them from chasing something they shouldn’t.

*wanders away, humming about manic Mondays*

Magnolia, I Say

One of the local magnolias has finally burst its fuzzy bounds, but the flowers aren’t quite ready yet. We have a lot of these trees in the neighborhood. They’re second in popularity only to roses; it seems like everyone gets a few of each to put in their yard. They’re pretty for a few brief moments in spring, then there’s some cleanup and they’re nice trees with waxy green all summer, providing welcome shade.

The sheer amount of magnolias surprises a lot of transplants to the area. Everyone thinks they’re deep-South trees, and I suppose they’re probably happier there. But we have whole streets of them, and Portland just over the river is called the Rose City.

Of more interest to me each year are the plum trees. We had a giant one in the backyard of the old place, and every year when it bloomed I knew things were going to be okay. I’m forced to other plum-tree measures in this house. The cherries are all in bloom now, but the plums haven’t quite gotten there yet.

I can wait a little longer. This week’s been very stressful, and I haven’t gotten the work I need to done. Maybe once the electrician leaves today1 I can take a deep breath.

At least, that’s the hope. But in the meantime, I have the cherries and the magnolias to remind me that things may, indeed, work out. In fact, they’ve worked out so far.

I just hope the trend continues.

COVER REVEAL: Damage

That’s right–my subscribers got this cover reveal before the weekend, but now it’s out in the world! Meet the first Ghost Squad novel, beloveds!

Damage

Keeping her safe will be his hardest assignment yet. . .

Reeling from trauma and divorce, Cara Halperin takes what should be a simple job with an expensive agency. As a nanny to rich children, she shouldn’t have much to worry about, and her job is just complex enough to keep her from brooding. Unfortunately, the agency’s sent her into a trap.

Vincent Desmarais wants to go back into the field, but instead, he’s put on leave. The diagnosis? PTSD. No problem–he can pick up security work on the side to keep himself sharp–that is, if the side work isn’t just as dangerous as the bloody places he’s longing to get back to.

When the lights go out, Cara and her young charge have only one option: to trust the new security guy. Vincent finds himself unwilling to abandon them to fate or let them out of his sight. If the trio wants to stay alive, they’ve got to trust each other. . .

. . .but that may just be what their enemies are counting on.

Now available for preorder from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and Kobo.

Isn’t it lovely? I really like that the heroine looks exactly like she did in my head–which doesn’t happen a lot, as you well know. I’m also looking forward to writing a few more Squad books; the next one is already assembling itself inside my head. I like writing romance a great deal.

For those asking about other platforms, it will be available, they just take some time for preorder links to populate. (Looking at you, Apple.)

Long-time subscribers will also know that this particular book is my love song to a certain movie starring Matthias Schoenaerts; they also got to see bits and pieces while I was writing it.

I do write a lot of love songs, come to think of it. I’m gonna call that a good thing.

Anyway, we’ve got this book to look forward to at the end of March, my dears. I’m already nervous over an upcoming release day, but that’s usual. I figured, what with it being the Monday after Daylight Savings, not to mention the Ides of March, we could all use something pretty, and this certainly qualifies.

I’m going to go finish my coffee and hope a pleasant day befalls us all. And maybe hyperventilate into a paper bag because a cover reveal means a release day approaching like a slinking lion, and those always play havoc with my nerves…

Blur Crocus

This photo would have been a lot nicer, but the dogs were yanking at my waist, eager to get on with things. But it’s nice enough, I think, for a sunny Friday. Spring is here (Spring is here, life is skittles and life is beer…)

We had snowdrops before (and after) the snow, jonquils hard upon their heels, and now there’s crocuses and daffodils. Cherry trees are beginning to bloom, except for the one down the street, which has been blooming early as it does every damn year.

I think that tree knows something I don’t. But that’s not unusual. The magnolias are full of furry buds, too. The hydrangea and clematis are bearing fresh green. I’m trying to be hopeful for the roses and the grapevines.

It should be a season of renewal, but I simply feel exhausted. Part of that could be working through the weekends, as I will have to do for the foreseeable future. But a surfeit of work is better than a scarcity, world without end, amen.

Next week there’ll be a cover reveal, and later this month a new release. The omnibus edition of HOOD, not to mention Season Three, is inching its way through the pub process. And Boxnoggin is next to my chair, with great sad puppy eyes, begging for the morning walk. He absolutely needs to get his snoot in a few more crocuses before they’re gone, and heaven help the hyacinths once they bloom.

I suppose I’d best tie my shoes (with a dog’s help, of course) and get going. Happy Friday, beloveds. Get some sun if you can, and take a deep breath.

Maybe, just maybe, things are getting better.

Snow Bars

We did get some snow, at the very tail-end of winter.1 It probably didn’t freeze hard enough to put a dent in the slug/snail population come true spring, but it was pretty and the dogs enjoyed themselves. Well, Miss B enjoyed herself immensely; Boxnoggin was reluctant (it was a Change, and Change is Bad) for his first few trips outside.

Then he decided he quite liked the dry, powdery stuff, and you can see the tracks where he bounded, ran, and wriggled.

Of course, once it warmed a bit everything got sloppy-slushy, and he hated that. In fact, he was certain I’d done it to punish him, and there were many reproachful looks. But now everything is melted and he’s forgotten such a thing as snow ever existed. I’m sure he’ll relearn at some point in the future.

But for now, all has returned to what passes for normal, and spring is approaching. The hydrangea and honeysuckle have green buds, the cherry down the street is still blooming, crocuses are everywhere. And there are bees hitching rides in my hair while I run again.

I almost miss the quiet of the snow. Almost.

Gaga Dad Joke

The Princess: “I… I had to buy them.”
Me: “You’re GODDAMN RIGHT you did.”
Also Me: “…what do they taste like?”
Princess: “Food coloring? I dunno. Try one.”
Me: “I’m good. I don’t need paparazzi.”
Princess: “But you have such a good poker face!”
Me: “I was born this way.”
Princess: “It wasn’t the product of a bad romance?”
Me: “I’m your mother. I can’t answer that.”
Princess: “…that’s fair.”
Me: “I gotta go.”
Princess: “Why, is something wro–“
Me: “I don’t want to talk anymore.”
Princess: “What hap–“
Me: “I lost my head and my heart on the dance floor.”
Princess: *groans*

That’s right. I did a Gaga-flavored dad joke. And I regret NOTHING.

Anyway, there was also a discussion of “they’re not chocolate Oreos, the dogs could technically–” followed by “do you really want either of those beasts on a sugar high?” and ending in a “…that’s fair, too.”

In conclusion, while I will never be too old to try new things, I am also old enough to look at certain things and say, “Nah, I’m good, you go ahead and enjoy.” I have informed the kids this is a perk of adulthood in general and motherhood in particular.

Then I went and ordered some Girl Scout cookies. Because I’m a gat-damn adult.

Have a good weekend, beloveds. Stay warm, hydrate, wash your hands, and wear your masks.

Free (Sock) Elf

Earlier this week a package arrived, bearing this wonderful thing. A single sock.

You read that right. One singular hand-knitted sock.

It’s part of a pair knitted by a dear friend, but she thought it would be hysterical to send me one at a time. I promptly, of course, took to Twitter to shout “MISTRESS HAS GIVEN LILI A SOCK; LILI IS NOW A FREE ELF!” Which is exactly what she wanted.

I am a free fuckin’ elf, mofos.

I also finished the zero draft of HOOD‘s final season yesterday. Which means this morning I am cross-eyed, absorbing coffee, and wearing a pair of beautifully hand-knitted slipper socks. They aren’t really socks, of course; they’re a friend saying “I love you.” Like little hugs for my feet.

The feeling is more than reciprocated, and very welcome. I hope you have a little (or a lot) of it in your life as well, my beloveds.

Have a good weekend.