It’s not often my house attacks me. No, wait, yes it is. But we’re a civilized pair and tend to keep things indoors and use Marquess of Queensbury rules. But the other day, I had to take it outside.

(more…)

Seriously. Don’t you just love my puns?

The book’s been let loose on the world, for better or worse, and I have taken a dive into the deep end over it (those of you who know me will undoubtedly be thinking, “well hell, she was already off the deep end anyway–this is different how?”). But I mean the deep end of what we all call “promo.”

I’m consistently amazed at the idea that other people want to talk about my book. Amazed and a little nervous (a lot nervous when those other people are my mother). I’m always afraid I’ll launch off into a complete n3rdgirl tangent about theme, genre, industry, or other stuff that people who don’t live and breathe writing couldn’t care less about. I also have lived for several years by the rule, “every time you pimp a fic, a kitten dies. Someone please think of the kittens!” One of the things I dread somewhat is being labeled as one of those authors who does nothing but promo her own stuff. In other words, a kitten-killer.

So far, my policy has grown out of a suggestion from my mother in law, a very dear, very pragmatic lady who reads voraciously and who, for years, fed my monkey for romance (my mother hooked me–my own mom!–on romances back when I was about ten, but the drive to devour them didn’t hit until I met my mother in law and could actually talk to another person about romance novels). MIL says, “Just be yourself. You’re good at it.”

So I will be being myself several places over the next few weeks. Yesterday, I had a load of fun blogging the Morning After segment of Liquid Silver’s Silver EXpressions blog (aka the SEx blog, and the blog with the most eye candy per capita). I’ll be doing that again April 22.

Then on April 27, I’ll be taking my first foray into chatting over at the Pink Posse chat room with the other Liquid Silver authors. My timeslot’s scheduled to be from 9-11 AM, EDT, but I’ll be popping in and out of the room all day, as time and rugrats permit.

She rose slowly, unsteadily, but quietly, to her feet. Every muscle ached, and her limbs twitched and trembled with the effort it cost her to pull herself upright.

She made her way to the door on shaking legs that screamed in pain and yanked the door open. Behind her, she heard Kenneth’s startled shout. “Holy–sh–Stop her!” She ignored it and fled clumsily into the night, aiming for the thick copse of trees that served as a picnic area for the complex’s workers on break.

The door slammed open behind her just as she reached the trees. She darted to her right, hoping to throw them off, but barked her shin solidly against what must have been the picnic table. She couldn’t keep a cry from escaping her lips.

“Over there!” The voice was too close.

She stumbled around the picnic table and ran again, reaching the deep shadow of the building next door. Behind her, she could hear what sounded like an entire army literally beating the bushes for her.
Her heart slammed into her chest, making the pain of her limbs throb in time to its beat. She forced herself to slow down, knowing that she was more likely to escape without sudden movements that would draw attention to her whereabouts.

As she approached the corner of the building, she heard a sound a little ways behind her and froze. She turned carefully around, needing to see whatever seemed to be on her trail.

Arms, out of nowhere, snaked around her nude body, one pinioning her arms to her sides, the other one covering her mouth with a hand. She was pulled around the corner of the building, out of sight of her pursuers.

Hot breath blew over her ear, sending chills throughout her body. “Screams are best reserved for pleasure, Lady. Do you understand me?”

She nodded. His voice triggered memories in her–hot, sweaty memories of earlier, before the world went to hell. Her body responded, liquid heat centering in her abdomen. The ache in her joints turned hot. She leaned into his body, aware of the hard ridges of muscle pressed against her shoulder blades, her buttocks, and her thighs.

In person, as opposed to her dream, Alcaini males had more presence than she realized. “I’ve never seen an Alcaini man in person before.” The being in question stared straight ahead, never even hinting that he was aware of being the subject of interest. His skin remained ruddy and impassive.

Ez’iri smiled, her forked tongue flicking between pointed teeth. “Tai’en took it upon himself to ensure my protection. It is his right as a member of my family.” She stood next to the second bay. “Although I suspect his curiosity about humans motivates him more than concern for my safety. This way, of your pleasure.” She motioned to the third bay. “And of yours, Physician Kenneth’en.”

Buhlmeier would get a kick out of the way Ez’iri mangled idiom, she thought. Ez’iri began asking her questions, interspersing them with explanations of the instruments she was lining up. The Alcaini were interested in the sensitivity of their skin, and the strength and structure of their bones. Rayne answered the questions as best as she could, noting Kenneth’s nervousness.

Ez’iri noticed, too. “Your mate–he does not approve?”

She frowned. “He’s not my mate. Hasn’t been for years, in fact.”

“My error.”

The portal opened and several other Alcaini females joined them. The tone of the lead female could only be that of a teacher lecturing students. Some things were universal, Rayne thought ruefully, as she noted the bored looks on some of the faces of the rear guard.

As the examination continued, she noticed the Alcaini women shooting strange looks at their guard. During a break, she asked Ez’iri about it.

Ez’iri rolled her eyes and shrugged. “My kinsman is something of a legend among our people. No one has seen him take a mate.”

“Hasn’t met the right girl yet?”

Ez’iri smiled, her skin bluing with amusement. “I know how your people feel about mating. But it is not the same way my people feel. Mating is something we share. We do not hide it like a…” she searched for the word…”shame?”

“Sin, you mean.”

“Yes! It is not a sin to us.”

“It isn’t to us, either,” Kenneth interjected. “We’re just private about it.”

As fascinating as the Alcaini were, she couldn’t comprehend this part of their culture. She would probably never again have a lover, because of her need to keep her desires private–a culture that saw things the complete opposite boggled her mind.

“Tai’en has more in common with humans in that respect. However, for us, it is a sin that he chooses not to mate.”

“Shame,” Rayne corrected. “Unless you mean that his not mating is a punishable offense.”

“A shame, then. None would dare punish a warrior. Tai’en’s decision, however shameful, still brings honor to our family, because he holds it with honor and strength.”

“So you value deep convictions?” Kenneth asked.

Ez’iri frowned. “Deep…I do not understand.”

It was Rayne’s turn to search for words. “Tai’en will not change his ways, and it is honorable that he doesn’t, even if his decision is not.”

I see, and am bowled over.  Will Kramer is the artist, and let me tell ya…from the baffling stuff I wrote in my art  questionnaire, the man nailed it, which is nothing short of amazing, since I used words like “luscious,” and “sensual” instead of “red” or “put two people on the cover.”

Speaking of red…later tonight, I’ll be posting a tantalizing tidbit about the red-hot lover on the cover…his name is Tai’en, and he’s twice the man as any man found on Planet Earth.  Stay tuned…

I’m totally scoring on these suggestive post titles, aren’t I?

Well, the big news is that “Alien Communion,” my release (there I go again!) from Liquid Silver Books, will be out and on the virtual shelves April 17. That’s right–a week away. I’ve been on tenterhooks since first starting the whole publication process, and now I’ve loaded the cannon, so to speak. I just found out a few hours ago, so I expect that tomorrow morning, I’ll hit panic mode and suddenly wonder if I’ve left some glaring errors somewhere in the manuscript, or if I’m really just a two-bit hack and now everybody will know it, instead of just my critique partners.

Then, of course, the wonderful and supportive Mr. Xandra will tell me to get my two-bit hack head out of my two-bit hack ass and settle down. And my wonderful and supportive friends in various places will tell me the same thing, because they’re wonderful and supportive, and have good heads on their shoulders.

So to celebrate my impending freak-out, I’m getting freaky with the previews. Stop back in here during the week and meet some of the main players in the story, learn a little about the Alcaini, and maybe even catch a glimpse of some out-of-this-world eye candy!

In case you dropped by sometime yesterday or today and noticed the place was a little snarly, I had to tinker with some stuff under the hood. Not to bore you with uber-g33k stuff, but I upgraded the WordPress engine that runs my little G-spot here (yes, that was a pun–flog me with a wet noodle, ’cause I’m all about flogging the blog), and put up a static splash page, so the site has room to grow.

Anyway, things should be shaking down just fine again from now on. The upgrade went smoothly and I learned that my HTML skillz, while not so mad anymore, are still adequate enough for simple stuff. This from a former hard-code head who believed that using anything other than notepad to code the page diluted the purity of the code, man.

Of course, I make no promises about the blog skin. I’m still playing around with blog couture. If I’d had a WordPress blog when I was nine, Barbie wouldn’t have gotten nearly as much of my parents’ money as she did. I’d much rather play dress-up with my blog than with my Barbies any day.  And your pervy little brother can’t put your blog in compromising positions with GI Joes.  There’s always a downside.