Release Day!

Hey all! I'd be remiss if I didn't at least pretend to be half-decent at self-promo and mention I have new book out today. Headstrong is now available as an e-book from Samhain (and via Kindle and Nook, though Samhain has the best price at the moment.) It's a full-length contemporary love-triangle romance. Here's the blurb:

Libby Prentiss is ready to simply be herself. After half a lifetime rebelling against her privileged family’s expectations, she hopes her biological research trip to New Zealand will cut the cord for good.

It doesn’t take long to spot the hopelessly amateurish spy her overprotective father has hired to keep an eye on her. Fortunately, Reece Nolan’s desperation to save his family’s pub makes it all too easy to convince him to turn double-agent. Yet there’s something different about him. His icy reserve sets her on fire…and ignites a secret yearning to let him see the mass of insecurities she hides behind her provocative persona.

Where Reece is a glacier of cool self-control, his brother Colin is a hot-blooded, unpredictable volcano. Libby’s instant friendship with Colin is more satisfying than anything she’s ever known—and traps her in completely foreign territory. She’s caught between one man determined to hold her at arm’s length, and another who offers her the intense connection she’s worked so hard to avoid.

Something’s got to give or the fallout could tear them all apart…and put the Nolan family’s future in serious jeopardy.

If you'd like to read an excerpt, you can find one on the book's Samhain page. Thanks for your attention! We will return to the Kung Fu reviews and creepy man-lusting and recipes shortly.

Thrusty Thursday: the 2011 All Blacks

In case you missed the memo, I love two things above just about all else: New Zealand, and sweaty, bruised men. So imagine how my heart and loins collided when the All Blacks made it to the 2011 Rugby World Cup final! During the last World Cup in 2007, I nearly wept in the bar when France beat New Zealand in the quarter final. Well, this past Sunday, the All Blacks got their revenge and beat France (in a nail-bitingly, heart-attack-inducingly close, low-scoring game) to take the cup home. [Could it be because France didn't have their gigantic, semi-feral caveman, Sébastien Chabal this year?] Though they didn't have to take it far, since Auckland was hosting. Bonus.

Nice knee bruises, Kieran Read. May I ice those for you?

Now if you're a lady-pervert like me and you've never watched rugby, you are cheating yourself. No sports enthusiasm or rule-appreciation required. Short-shorts, basically no padding, brutish acts of manfulness just like, constantly. Unh. Anyhow, here's some more Kiwi thrust-fodder:

Oh and look, a shot of foxy flanker Kieran Read signing a young fan's jersey. How'd that get in there?

Thrusty Thursday: Karl Urban

Continuing my celebration of yesterday's sale news, I thought I ought to source a Wellingtonian for this week's thrustin'. You may know actor Karl Urban as Bones from the latest Star Trek incarnation, Éomer from the second and third Lord of the Rings films, a Russian baddie in The Bourne Supremacy, some sort of villainous vampire in that new Priest movie, or even as Julius Caesar in Xena: Warrior Princess…or from any of his many other appearances in movies and television.

For your enjoyment, a grainy but foxy interview about Urban's choice to stay in New Zealand, dealing with stalkers, and working with Nimoy:

New Sale!

Okay, before anyone gets overexcited for me, it's not that fourth Blaze proposal. That'd be an awful quick decision, don't you think? But this news is just as good!

I woke to the news that Samhain has made an offer on my very favorite manuscript, Coast! My faithful beta reader, Amy, knows it as Between Brothers (it's a love triangle) but after a year-plus of dabbling in m/m erotica, I can no longer look at that title and not skeeve myself out. Amy's also the only person, aside from my husband and my Samhain editor, Anne Scott, who understands why there's a picture of red Chucks up there. I owe her really big thanks for how this book turned out. She rooted for it and made it way better, and it's essentially her fault there's a laser tag scene in it.

I'd hoped this might be the manuscript that I used to snag an agent…I felt it was the best thing I'd written, or at least the thing I felt most proud of. It's very me. But though I received nice comments on the writing, I heard again and again from agents that it's a tricky story to find a home for. It's not high concept, it's not trendy, it's not especially commercial. It's set in my favorite city, Wellington, New Zealand, which for reasons beyond my comprehension is not known world-wide as a hotbed of romance (someday, Welly, someday). It hasn't got any supernatural beings or high-stakes suspense or time-travel. It's just a story about a tangled-up romance involving three [relatively] normalish people, flitting between a second-rate pub, a house boat, a dojang, a bike courier dispatch, and a karaoke bar. My thanks to those kind agents who told me they wished they could say 'yes'. I wished you could, too! But ultimately my yearning simply to get it into readers' hands trumped my yearning to score representation with it. They'll be time enough for that, yet.

Anyhow, no clue when it'll be out, but I look forward to wooting about that when I hear. Oh and it's got a really great soundtrack, incidentally. Thanks for reading! And extra big thanks again, Amy!

Hit Send…and receive!

Hey all,

My new fantail shirt! Sweet as.

Plenty of you seem to pity me enough to click my post links on occasion, and as such you're likely aware that my road to making my second sale to Harlequin Blaze has been…shall we say…uphill. Well this morning I hit send on my FOURTH proposal since selling my first—and for now, only—book with them.

This latest attempt emerged after much frustration, persistence, and well-timed guidance, which you can read all about in my scheduled post with the Blaze Authors Blog tomorrow (I'll post a link to it here.) I felt confident as I sent this new story out into the editorial ether… Well no, "ether" is wrong. My experience with my editor at Blaze has been nothing if not clear and open, nothing ephemeral or murky about it. But anyhow, this time feels different. Not because I'm positive it will hit the mark, but because my fingers aren't crossed gangrene-inducingly tight for once. The theme of this submission has been "Don't Overthink It." Probably ought to get that tattooed on my palm, an added reinforcement the next time I find occasion to slap some sense into myself. Shouldn't be long at all. Anyhow, what will be will be. Perhaps fourth time's the charm?

Three varieties of Almond Gold!

So, I hit Send and spent the rest of the morning feeling that weird mix of post-submission hopefulness and paranoia. By lunchtime I was feeling downright blue for a variety of non-dramatic reasons, but things took a nice change by the time I got back from my daily walk. Not only was there a royalty check waiting for my evil conjoined erotica-writing twin, but my faithful Kiwi pen pal Gerry's yearly birthday care package had arrived! He sent me an ace bird-nerd shirt (a fantail is a common New Zealand bird) and the requisite pile of Almond Gold chocolate bars, plus some Spaceman Candy Sticks. My new shirt smells of them. Bonus. Also had some new cover art waiting in my inbox for the evil twin, which I'll post on her site and Goodreads this afternoon. So I've perked up a bit. I hit Send in good faith, and good things have already come to me in return. Feels like a hopeful enough omen.

Now if only someday soon I get to write the blog post entitled, HELL FROZE OVER! I SOLD MY SECOND BLAZE!!! But patience, oh spastic one.

Thrusty Thursday: Manu Bennett

I picked Manu Bennett for this week's thrusting for a couple of reasons. Firstly, the manfriend and I are busy watching Spartacus: Gods of the Arena (prequel series to last year's Blood and Sand). It's on Netflix Instant Watcher, blah blah blah, hot dudes fighting and screwing, watch it now if you're not already. I was cagey about the new series because I found Andy Whitfield, who played Spartacus in the original series, to be a massive fox and couldn't imagine the show without him (he's currently busy being treated for non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, but there are rumors he's doing well and may appear in future episodes—fingers crossed for you, Andy).

Manful, yet sensitiveful.

In both Spartacus series, Manu Bennett plays "the Gaul", Crixus. In the original Blood and Sand series, Crixus is The Shit—the Champion of Capua top-dog gladiator (until Spartacus shows up) and he's very swaggery and manful and relatively clean-cut. Not my type, though he's a good character. But in Gods of the Arena, which takes place before Blood and Sand, he's a newbie know-nothing with long hair and a beard and no street cred. I'm currently on about episode four, where he's just beginning to kick ass. I like him even more as an underdog. Oh and in both series you get to see him in the altogether. Frequently. Bonus.

A proud Kiwi with massive arms. Win.

The other major reason I'm suggesting we all thrust against Manu Bennett is that he's a Kiwi, and New Zealand is the foxiest nation on Earth. Bennett is a mix of Maori and Irish and Spanish and Scottish and probably some other flavors that all swirl together to comprise his nearly excessive foxxitude. Normally his type is a bit too "obvious" for me, as I typically prefer wonkier dudes, but I will make an exception. Plus if you haven't had the pleasure of watching Spartacus, he's got a voice that'll burn your bloomers off.

Oh lookie, a new peek inside Gladiator Boot Camp!

Thrusty Thursday: Andy Whitfield

Foxy as a ye olde asse-kicker, foxy as a civilian. 

If you're a pervert like me, you wish there were just hours and hours of 300 deleted scenes, full of muddy, muscly, stylized men fighting and shouting in ye olde ancient tymes. Well there is! It's called Spartacus: Blood and Sand, a Starz show that premiered in 2010, and is poised to come back for a second season at the end of this month. I just started it last night, and it didn't disappoint. It's mad-gory, but it's that over-the-top digitized gore that's borderline silly…too like a comic book to really make me flinch.

Anyhow, the chief fox is Spartacus, naturally, played in the first season by thirty-eight-year-old Welsh-slash-Australian actor Andy Whitfield. In the early episodes he's got long hair and a beard and a sort of sexy-caveman (or perhaps sexy-Jesus) thing going on, though I wasn't able to find any excellent pictures of this. No matter. He's foxy with short hair as well. If you're super pervy (you know who you are) you will be pleased to know he (and other ancient-times foxes, many with vaguely Antipodean accents) spend much of the show scantily clad and in shackles. Plus, there's a lot of softcore porno going on. Maybe that was just to juice up the pilot episode…but I hope not. It's like butts and boobs and thrustin' every-dag-where. A good show for husbands and wives to watch together, as there's something for everyone! Also, the chicks occasionally get to kick ass alongside the men. Blam!

Bonus: Spartacus is taped in New Zealand, the most thrust-upon-able nation on Earth.

Now for the bad news—Whitfield will not be returning as Spartacus in the second season, as he's currently battling non-Hodgkin lymphoma. Sadness! But don't let that diminish your enjoyment of his thrustability. If you have a Netflix subscription, sign in and click here to go to the Spartacus: Blood and Sand page. All thirteen episodes of season one are available on Instant Watcher, joy of joys.

For a gore-free taste of brutish foxiness, check out this short segment about the show's Gladiator Camp training program:

Sugar Rush, Humble Pie

It's Gymuary, day three! Nearly ten percent done with this first of the twelve month-long experiments comprising Discipline Year. I took it fairly easy today—forty minutes on the elliptical while I caught up with a bunch of Archers podcasts. I did a lot of it in the backward motion and now my butt feels funny. Good funny. Burned about five hundred calories if you count the walk to and from, and just in time. Waiting for me when I got home was my pen pal Gerry's Christmas package from New Zealand, and it was stuffed with Almond Gold bars of various sizes—my favorite Kiwi candy bar, which he sends me dutifully a few times a year. I ate about a quarter pound's worth just now. That may even be an underestimation, sad but true. Very dangerous to get candy in the mail when your body's begging for carbs.

Also from the pen pal, this excellent retro Kiwi tee-shirt.

So tomorrow I've resolved to finally go to my first real group Zumba class, whether I'm prepared or not. I attended an intro class a month ago and did a few sessions with DVDs, but a large part of me is still suffering from the old fear of looking foolish, unable to keep up. That class moves quick and they won't explain the steps as they did in the intro. But Gymuary for me is more about intention and follow-through than getting in shape. I'm already in reasonably decent shape, a shape that demands a level of maintenance I know I can comfortably fit into my life. This month is simply about making the decision to go each and every day, and doing what I set out to. And, trying new things and stepping out of my comfort zone. So, ready or not, I'm off to Zumba tomorrow, bright and early. More than likely, since it's resolution time, I won't be the only amateur fumbling through the steps. Plus it's not like anything bad will happen if I do look like as asshole in a class full of perky experts. No one will point or laugh, and I'll end the session a bit better at it, and bit less intimidated for the next one. So there but for the gracelessness of my legs go I.

Ducks Topple Over in Strong Wind

That was the title of the original article my Kiwi pen pal e-mailed me from the NZ Herald. He's a journalist (though he didn't cover this breaking news, sadly) and he sends me every duck-related story that hits the New Zealand press. And you would be truly shocked how often ducks make the Kiwi news. The ducks from this, the most hilarious / tragic / delightful / horrifying thing I've seen all month, were actually in Canada, but they still made the news two hemipheres away. Watch it. You'll laugh. You'll gasp. You'll awwww and oh noooo! and exprience every human emotion in the span of forty-five seconds. And don't worry—it ends well.

Thrusty Thursday: Sir David Attenborough

Sir David in 1956.

Admittedly, it feels just a bit weird suggesting we all thrust against one of my idols…particularly as he's well into his eighties. But if pressed to name the dreamiest man ever, I honestly can't think of one who makes me swoon more than David Attenborough.

Let's just start with his titles, shall we? To get technical, his name looks like this:

Sir David Frederick Attenborough OM, CH, CVO, CBE, FRS, FZS, FSA

Overachieve much, Davey? But I forgive you. After all, you mucked around all over the world in your khakis and light blue button-up to bring nature and natural history to life for the millions upon millions of people who've enjoyed your documentaries, books, and recordings. My favorites are predictably the bird-nerdiest ones—Attenborough in Paradise and the Life of Birds series (both available to stream on Netflix Instant Watcher).

Let's see the man in action! Here's a clip that fuses three of my favorite things ever: David Attenborough, birds, and New Zealand:



Oh, Davey…swoon! I could go on all day, but I won't. Again, if you have Netflix, there are hours and hours of Attenborough's BBC documentaries available to stream. And now I'll close by leaving you all with what I like to call the famous Albatrossenborough photo: