Z.A. Maxfield's Blog, page 24

It’s a total privilege to be here blogging, especially as it’s my release day!! *grabs champagne and tops up glasses all round*.

As we’ve both got new books out around the same time, ZAM and I arranged a little blog swap, and threw a few little questions at each other, including… What do we do on a typical writing day? I’ve had a little peep at ZAM’s answer (she’s at my place on the 2nd February) and her day sounds more fun, not least because she’s in Southern California and I’m staring out into the icy gloom of Southampton, UK. (Hey, one of the cruise liners is just setting sail from the port as I write this. How do I know that? Well, because they’ve let off the foghorn and the WHOLE FLAT IS TREMBLING!)

So, my typical writing day. Well, I write about half the week (and at weekends) and do my day job the rest. So on my writing days, I’m pretty focused and routine-orientated. After popping out for groceries, it’s a feast of writing (or editing) doused in coffee, then after lunch, maybe a short run or a swim to jog my creative juices into action. Then the coffee is replaced by mint tea for the afternoon and evening, and off I go writing again. If I reach my target for the day early, then I get to read. Yay!!!

I don’t write much in the evening, as I’m more of a morning person. I tend to watch TV, maybe fiddle on the internet and do some promo or admin while my husband works on his writing (He’s an academic and proud author of 200 published papers and books! I’ll never catch up.) Our fave shows to have on? Hmmm, I still love NCIS best, but I’m quite looking forward to the new series of Game of Thrones right now (though I shut my eyes during the gory bits.) I love history and travel documentaries too—they give me tons of ideas for characters and settings. And Brian Cox (the BBC science presenter) is hot!

Talking of books, okay, the new release—Bad Slave, what the heck’s that about? Yup, it’s a BDSM fantasy story, but it’s a love story at heart and it’s got a BIG HEART. Jay and Alix’s romance was a blast to write, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it.

Bad Slave by Kay Berrisford. Published by Loose Id. Genre: LGBTTQ, BDSM & Fetish, Fantasy & Paranormal.

Blurb: When the king commands former war hero Captain Jay Ghair to find him the perfect royal sex slave, Jay’s quiet new life as a librarian is shattered. Jay discovers the boy he’s looking for in Alix, a lowly miner and wannabe court scientist, whom Jay can’t help but secretly adore. However, teaching the rebellious Alix to be a docile slave is difficult. Alix will behave for just one man, and it isn’t the king. It’s Jay.

Standing by while the king’s treatment of Alix becomes cruel is torturous for Jay. He longs to return to his library, yet he can’t bear to leave Alix, or his people, unprotected. To rescue Alix—and save the realm from the increasingly tyrannical king—Jay must confront the demons of his military past and take up the sword again. But his most important battle must be won through returning Alix’s love and learning to master this bad slave who submits only for him.

BAD SLAVE BUY IT NOW LINKS

ADULT EXCERPT from Bad Slave

Jay leaned forward so his brow nearly touched Alix’s. Hot breaths mingled. “Listen. I’ve been charged this night with finding the king an attractive young man. Somebody ready and willing to, uh, well—”

“He wants to know if you’ll suck the king’s cock,” interjected Gareh, coming to the rescue, albeit in a crude fashion.

Alix’s jaw dropped. “You want me to become one of the king’s sex slaves?”

It seemed everybody knew more about King Lyam’s lifestyle than Jay had. His stomach clenched.

“King Lyam’s a good-looking chap,” added Ned, who’d warmed to the task of procuring Alix, probably because time pressed on. The sun had sunk beneath the horizon, and evening dew beaded the grasses and cooled Jay’s blazing visage. “From what I’ve heard, his boys live a coddled existence.”

“The choice must be yours, Alix,” said Jay. “But Farmer Derren might find you and kill you if we let you go free, and we can’t take you back to the palace with no reason. You must face trial or elect to serve the king.”

Jay’s conscience stabbed like an ice pick, because there was little choice, really. He wished the lad, who remained motionless, would say something to put him out of his misery. Alix raked his fingers through his short brown hair. Then, sudden as the first morning cry of a cockerel, he laughed. And sweet mother of all the starlords, it was the dirtiest and most charming sound that’d ever blessed Jay’s ears. Alix’s smile was delicious too, though he couldn’t disguise his trembling or the gleam of fear in his eyes. Jay suspected this unforeseen mirth to be an act, so it didn’t make him feel any better.

Nevertheless, Lyam had asked for a man with some spirit. Alix indeed possessed that.

“All right, I’ll do it.” Alix dabbed away the last of the blood. “Um, should I thank you? I mean, yes, I really should. You just saved me from—”

“No. That’s not necessary at all.” Any decent man would’ve done the same thing.

Without requesting the rescued party become a sex slave.

Jay rose, then took Alix’s arm and helped him up. Once upright, Alix hissed in pain, then balanced on one leg. Jay clamped the lad’s shoulders. “Are you badly injured?”

“Just a minor sprain.” Alix mustered a faltering grin. “Doesn’t hurt.”

“We’ll tend to your wounds when we get back.”

It seemed the least he could do. Then again, he had saved Alix’s life. Serving at court, even as one of the king’s pets, could well be preferable to laboring in the mines, let alone languishing in prison or facing the chop.

Not quite reassured, Jay scooped an arm about Alix and supported the lad in hopping over to the horse. He helped Alix up—involuntarily confirming that Alix had a firm and rounded butt and sinewy thighs—then sighed and nodded to Gareh and Ned.

“Lead on back to the palace.”

~*~

Want more? Read chapter one at Loose Id

Buy Kay’s books at Amazon   Loose Id   All Romance Ebooks 

Kay on Facebook

Twitter: @kayberrisford

Website: http://kayberrisford.com

GIVEAWAY TIME!!! If you’d like to win your choice of two of my Greenwood novels Bound for the Forest or Bound to the Beast ) in ebook or paperback plus a $10 GC 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Happy Sunday everyone! I woke up to a gray cloudy day today. Three boys home but running around. They’re currently in a robotics club that has a competition coming up in Vegas. That’s right, Vegas, baby. Nothing like letting smart kids loose in a town full of possible moral pitfalls. pffft. Guess who’s going as a chaperone.

They could do worse.

So, Last week we talked about whether we felt we were optimists, pessimists or just realists. So many good comments on that. You are great thinkers out there, and I loved reading your replies. Thanks! Last weeks winner (random pick, of course) is:

Andrea! *throws confetti*

This week’s question:

What’s the worst prank you ever pulled? (Of course this could also, given that we discussed glass half-empty/glass half-full last week, be called the BEST prank you ever pulled.)

I’ll tell you what, only ONE author was brave enough to sign up to share her prank with me: LE Franks is here to tell us about it.

My thoughts on pranks is I’m not really good at them. I don’t like making people feel uncomfortable. I never have. I’ve done things to surprise people. I let my daughter go to sleep on the eve of her fourth birthday in her toddler bed and then took her out and put her in a “big girl” bed, complete with dreamy bedding and nice pillows in its place so when she woke up her room was different (I pictured it like the Shirley Temple Version of A Little Princess, although the transformation was nothing so spectacular.)

Last week, I let my twin son Zack tell his brother Max they only had one iPhone left so we got him a clamshell phone they had leftover from the nineties with big button technology, but then that was Zack’s practical joke, not mine. I gave the game away as soon as I saw him, because he looked so resigned. I can’t stand to see people off-kilter. As a kid, I couldn’t watch shows the Beverly Hillbillies, because I don’t like to see people made the butt of jokes. I rarely watch reality television at all.

My husband is great at pranks and surprises, although he knows better than to pull them on me. He once bought me a car and told me the garage door remote didn’t work, knowing it’s snatch it out of his hand and try it anyway cause I’m that person who pushes “walk” even if you already did, who test things, opens doors, and generally has to see with my own eyes.

That was a GREAT prank/surprise and one I’ll remember forever.

One Man’s (er—woman’s) Prank is Another Man’s Worst Nightmare, or Our Road to Tying the Knot:

It’s really not my fault. I think it speaks more to his psychology than to my impulse to poke. Honestly.

It’s not like he secretly thought I was psycho…

Wait…there was that time I visited him in Princeton NJ about a month after we started dating—he was on a long-term job site, I was a travel slut looking for a good time and a 45 minute ride to the Big Apple…a match made in heaven. So what if he’d been staying in a tiny room no bigger than a closet filled with three weeks of stinky man-clothes?

He may have been a little disconcerted when at midnight (9 pm our time, for frack’s sake!) he awoke and found me leaning against a wall staring at him. Did I mention it was only 9pm on the west coast and the room was the size of my thigh? God’s great gift to mankind – the iPhone – had not been invented yet. And there was nowhere to sit. It was either lean against a wall or wake him up every 5 minutes moving around on the double bed.

He may have also jumped to conclusions that helped reinforce this idea of my shaky credentials the next day when he walked into his hotel room and found a naked man in the shower. (Stop it! I know what you’re thinking…I said travel slut, not slut-slut. Sheesh).

It’s really not my fault that he had a moment of crazy when he convinced himself that I’d traveled 2900 miles to steal his dirty clothes, especially since he’d stopped by the front desk to arrange a larger room for us before leaving for the day. So sue me. I did what any reasonably bored and efficient person would do…I got the key and moved us.

While that would have been a KILLER prank—it doesn’t count as one—but it may very well explain why when I did eventually prank him he thought I was serious. Deadly serious. Honestly, so much drama and yet, he still married me. [Editor's note from ZAM: Knowing you -- and adoring you as I do -- this does not surprise me.]

Tiny more bit of backstory: I actually have really excellent taste. No, don’t scoff—don’t confuse my jean’s and t-shirts for fashion ignorance, because hey, California. It doesn’t mean that I can’t slide my hand across a nice white cotton broadcloth covered chest and not know the thread count and whether you’re rocking the perm-a-press. And there really is nothing worse that a lousy polyester or ugly print necktie. But I digress.

We’d been living together for a few weeks at this point—about six months after the whole unfortunate “you stole my dirty underwear” episode on the East Coast—still not the best of arrangements, but I’d moved in with him and his roommate who was her own brand of crazy-with-cat. She had weird rules, and we tiptoed around a lot. It just added to the atmosphere.

Moving in with him the first thing I noticed was a large mirror leaning against a corner, covered in neckties. Horrible, horrible, ghastly, ugly, polyester, and knitted cotton, and old, (not cool-old either. Not hot retro “my fashion is editorial”. Nope. The really, really unredeemably bad kind.) Ties that made my eyes bleed and teeth ache just to look at them…and he had a lot of them. No joke—dozens upon dozens, even ties from the eighties with their mauve and peach color schemes…soft blurred images with cow skulls on them. Nightmares. [Editor's note from ZAM: You didn't accidentally marry my husband did you? 'Cause he has those too, and even older ones from his dad. 70 years of bad ties]

The Prank. I may have threatened the ties with extermination a time or two. He may have been in genuine fear for their lives…but still, I think the day that he came home from work, saw my note telling him I that I’d offed them (I believed I used words like “cut up” and “never see them again”) he might have paused a second to look around the room and notice the trail of dropped neck ties leading to the downstairs hall closet where they remained unharmed. Nope. Did not see a-one. (Editorial note from LE Franks: as I write this, I realize he had to have stepped over several of these ties on his way up the stairs, which is an entirely different post about why men’s clothes become invisible the second they touch the ground.)

The Result. Total Freak Out.

I almost wet myself laughing. Honestly. Like anyone would go to all that trouble to cut them up with scissors when there’s a perfectly good trashcan outside. (Oddly he didn’t consider that argument to be an improvement.)

Yeah, he eventually married me anyway—but I did use it as a teaching moment to point out how hideously awful his taste was (why let all those props go to waste) and in the end, he let me dispose of the worst offenders with the following caveat: for every tie he coughed up, I’d replace them with two very cool ones. And I did—I even got him nifty grown up tie hangers—Ties as colorful and cool as he is. Now, I hardly ever see him dressing like an 85 year old man anymore, because scissors. – Author LE Franks

Purchase 6 Days to Valentine on January 29th from Wilde City Press.  

I’m at Josh Lanyon’s Just Joshin’ blog today: 

Click here to see our zany Interview!

As everyone knows I’m on a blog tour for My Heartache Cowboy. I just wanted to give a shout out to a few of the authors who are hosing me this week. They are so kind to give up their valuable Internet real estate for me, and I have really enjoyed answering their questions, writing blog posts, and generally hanging around with them.

These are some solid friends, folks, they’re the ones who cheer me on when I succeed, and laugh with me when I fail…or cry. They’re also solid writers in their own right. So far, I’ve visited with Rhys Ford, Karenna Colecroft, Tara Lain, and LE Franks! Below you’ll find the links, and while you’re there, check out my author pals and the books they write. Show them a little love by following their blogs, signing up for their newsletters and “like”ing their pages. I guarantee you will be glad you did!

These authors have already hosted me:

Rhys Ford Dirt and Sin With A Side Of Coffee

Karenna Colecroft Open Your Heart

Tara Lain Read the Beautiful Boys of Romance

LE Franks The Books, The Blogs, and The Men

I’ll let you know about new blog visits as they appear.

Can love conquer all?

Jimmy Rafferty and Eddie Molina go way back at the J-Bar ranch. They’ve worked together, bunked together, camped out, and drank together. So how has Jimmy failed to notice that Eddie is gay? Eddie has not failed to notice that his friend has a serious drinking problem, and he’s determined to help Jimmy kick the booze cold turkey.

Taking him up to a snowbound cabin to detox, Eddie is confronted with Jimmy’s fierce denial. But the pains of withdrawal are nothing for Jimmy compared with the heartache of denying his true feelings and his deep longing…for the one man who cares for him more than anyone else on earth.

When I woke, I was alone and the truck wasn’t moving.

Who the hell did Eddie think he was, leaving me asleep by myself in a truck outside in the freezing cold? My pa and my older brother, Jonas, used to do that. We’d be on the road, and when I fell asleep, they’d leave me in the parking lot of some dive bar or motel—just leave me asleep outside in the dark. I’d wake up with no clue where I was, no idea if they were coming back or if I should go in and try to find them.

My first useful thought was to look for the keys, because I hadn’t forgotten what Eddie said. I hadn’t forgotten the plans him and boss Malloy made for me behind my back. It would serve them right if I up and hightailed it back to the J-Bar with Eddie’s truck and no Eddie.

No keys.

Not like that was going to stop me. Where the hell did Eddie get the idea I’d go quietly? I slid over and tore the wiring out from under the dash. Found what I needed without hardly even looking.

I hated waking up alone like that. Unwanted. Abandoned.

One twist. Two. Touch the wires together and the engine should . . .

Fuck.

Nothing.

What the hell? I checked I got the proper color-coated strands and tried again. I was frowning down at the mess of tangled wire when someone tapped on the window behind me.

I glanced up and saw Eddie frowning down, no doubt pissed at what I’d done to his truck. Serves you right for leaving me like that, you prick.

“You need a working engine for that,” he told me as he opened the door. “One that has a battery.”

“Fuck you.” I spilled out of the car ready for a fistfight.

“What?” Eddie jumped back.

“Why did you have to leave me like that? What did I ever do to you?”

Eddie shook his head at me. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. You were sound asleep and I thought maybe you needed it.”

I took a swing at him. “I hate waking up alone in a car like that.”

Ed plucked my fist from the air and peered at me like he was trying to see through my skin. “I didn’t know.”

“I hate that. Left behind in the car like a damn dog. Like a fucking duffel bag. You can’t be bothered to even wake me up and take me in out of the fucking snow.”

Now Eddie frowned like he was thinking about it. Now, after the fact. “I’m sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t think how you’d feel waking up alone like that. I won’t do it again.”

“Would have served you right if I took your truck and left you up here to walk back to civilization, wherever the hell that is. Would have served you right if I’d died out here.”

“All right, all right. Simmer down now.”

I glared at him. “Fuck you.”

“It’s pretty civilized inside. How about you come in with me.”

“How about you suck my fucking—”

“That’s enough.” He turned and headed toward the cabin’s welcoming front door. “I almost didn’t bother to disable the damn thing, but I thought on the off chance you knew what you were doing and could—”

“Which I did,” I pointed out.

“Come inside.” He jerked his chin toward the cabin like I was a dog and I was supposed to just follow along and yip around at his heels.

I debated making a run at him, but frankly, Eddie was a tough buzzard. He wasn’t too much older than me, just forty-two compared to my thirty-eight. But I was a lover, not a fighter, or at least that’s how I thought of myself. Back there on the road, Eddie had proved he wasn’t above using violence to get his way in this, so I went along.

You’re going to have to sleep sometime.

Eddie led me into a rustic-looking cabin that seemed awful nice for the middle of nowhere. There was a place for us to hang our hats just inside the door, over a table with a passel of pictures on it. There were old time black-and-whites of families and framed pictures of a good-looking man, a pretty woman, and some kids. There were some of the kids alone, and holy cow, there were probably a dozen pictures of Ed. He looked so young in a couple of them, they must have been from before we met.

One of Ed and the unknown man caught my eye. Something about the difference in height, the casual way they leaned together, the way they looked at each other, made me think this was Ed’s friend from the road, Don. Even though they’d both aged some since it was taken, I was almost sure of it.

No knobby hands, no weathered angel, this Don was good looking, without a doubt. He was lanky and chiseled. He had an intelligent face and a smile that drew the eye. He seemed sure of himself and charming. Whatever I’d seen in the darkness outside the car had to be a trick of the light.

Ed looked so young and earnest next to him it took my breath away. Brawny and tan, he wore a yoked Western shirt with the sleeves rolled up past well-muscled forearms and he eyed Don like he would follow him anywhere.

And that Don, he looked like he could appreciate a guy like Ed, as well.

Hadn’t I seen firsthand how much he did appreciate him?

Z. A. Maxfield started writing in 2007 on a dare from her children and never looked back. Pathologically disorganized, and perennially optimistic, she writes as much as she can, reads as much as she dares, and enjoys her time with family and friends. Three things reverberate throughout all her stories: Unconditional love, redemption, and the belief that miracles happen when we least expect them.If anyone asks her how a wife and mother of four can find time for a writing career, she’ll answer, “It’s amazing what you can accomplish if you give up housework.”

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Blog Tour Homepage

Can love conquer all?

Jimmy Rafferty and Eddie Molina go way back at the J-Bar ranch. They’ve worked together, bunked together, camped out, and drank together. So how has Jimmy failed to notice that Eddie is gay? Eddie has not failed to notice that his friend has a serious drinking problem, and he’s determined to help Jimmy kick the booze cold turkey.

Taking him up to a snowbound cabin to detox, Eddie is confronted with Jimmy’s fierce denial. But the pains of withdrawal are nothing for Jimmy compared with the heartache of denying his true feelings and his deep longing…for the one man who cares for him more than anyone else on earth.

When I woke, I was alone and the truck wasn’t moving.

Who the hell did Eddie think he was, leaving me asleep by myself in a truck outside in the freezing cold? My pa and my older brother, Jonas, used to do that. We’d be on the road, and when I fell asleep, they’d leave me in the parking lot of some dive bar or motel—just leave me asleep outside in the dark. I’d wake up with no clue where I was, no idea if they were coming back or if I should go in and try to find them.

My first useful thought was to look for the keys, because I hadn’t forgotten what Eddie said. I hadn’t forgotten the plans him and boss Malloy made for me behind my back. It would serve them right if I up and hightailed it back to the J-Bar with Eddie’s truck and no Eddie.

No keys.

Not like that was going to stop me. Where the hell did Eddie get the idea I’d go quietly? I slid over and tore the wiring out from under the dash. Found what I needed without hardly even looking.

I hated waking up alone like that. Unwanted. Abandoned.

One twist. Two. Touch the wires together and the engine should . . .

Fuck.

Nothing.

What the hell? I checked I got the proper color-coated strands and tried again. I was frowning down at the mess of tangled wire when someone tapped on the window behind me.

I glanced up and saw Eddie frowning down, no doubt pissed at what I’d done to his truck. Serves you right for leaving me like that, you prick.

“You need a working engine for that,” he told me as he opened the door. “One that has a battery.”

“Fuck you.” I spilled out of the car ready for a fistfight.

“What?” Eddie jumped back.

“Why did you have to leave me like that? What did I ever do to you?”

Eddie shook his head at me. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. You were sound asleep and I thought maybe you needed it.”

I took a swing at him. “I hate waking up alone in a car like that.”

Ed plucked my fist from the air and peered at me like he was trying to see through my skin. “I didn’t know.”

“I hate that. Left behind in the car like a damn dog. Like a fucking duffel bag. You can’t be bothered to even wake me up and take me in out of the fucking snow.”

Now Eddie frowned like he was thinking about it. Now, after the fact. “I’m sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t think how you’d feel waking up alone like that. I won’t do it again.”

“Would have served you right if I took your truck and left you up here to walk back to civilization, wherever the hell that is. Would have served you right if I’d died out here.”

“All right, all right. Simmer down now.”

I glared at him. “Fuck you.”

“It’s pretty civilized inside. How about you come in with me.”

“How about you suck my fucking—”

“That’s enough.” He turned and headed toward the cabin’s welcoming front door. “I almost didn’t bother to disable the damn thing, but I thought on the off chance you knew what you were doing and could—”

“Which I did,” I pointed out.

“Come inside.” He jerked his chin toward the cabin like I was a dog and I was supposed to just follow along and yip around at his heels.

I debated making a run at him, but frankly, Eddie was a tough buzzard. He wasn’t too much older than me, just forty-two compared to my thirty-eight. But I was a lover, not a fighter, or at least that’s how I thought of myself. Back there on the road, Eddie had proved he wasn’t above using violence to get his way in this, so I went along.

You’re going to have to sleep sometime.

Eddie led me into a rustic-looking cabin that seemed awful nice for the middle of nowhere. There was a place for us to hang our hats just inside the door, over a table with a passel of pictures on it. There were old time black-and-whites of families and framed pictures of a good-looking man, a pretty woman, and some kids. There were some of the kids alone, and holy cow, there were probably a dozen pictures of Ed. He looked so young in a couple of them, they must have been from before we met.

One of Ed and the unknown man caught my eye. Something about the difference in height, the casual way they leaned together, the way they looked at each other, made me think this was Ed’s friend from the road, Don. Even though they’d both aged some since it was taken, I was almost sure of it.

No knobby hands, no weathered angel, this Don was good looking, without a doubt. He was lanky and chiseled. He had an intelligent face and a smile that drew the eye. He seemed sure of himself and charming. Whatever I’d seen in the darkness outside the car had to be a trick of the light.

Ed looked so young and earnest next to him it took my breath away. Brawny and tan, he wore a yoked Western shirt with the sleeves rolled up past well-muscled forearms and he eyed Don like he would follow him anywhere.

And that Don, he looked like he could appreciate a guy like Ed, as well.

Hadn’t I seen firsthand how much he did appreciate him?

Z. A. Maxfield started writing in 2007 on a dare from her children and never looked back. Pathologically disorganized, and perennially optimistic, she writes as much as she can, reads as much as she dares, and enjoys her time with family and friends. Three things reverberate throughout all her stories: Unconditional love, redemption, and the belief that miracles happen when we least expect them.If anyone asks her how a wife and mother of four can find time for a writing career, she’ll answer, “It’s amazing what you can accomplish if you give up housework.”

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Last week there were TWO brunch options, the first seating featured Amy Lane, Cherie Noel, and Christopher Koehler, who discussed their New Years’ Resolutions.  The winner for that was Trix! Thanks for commenting, Trix, I know it was a bit confusing to have two different brunches last week, and I should be back on track here for the forthcoming few weeks anyway.

The second seating of Sunday Brunch last week featured LE Franks, KA Mitchell, and James Buchanan. Their question was about favorite winter pastimes and their winner was Jeff!

This week’s question is about state of mind. I’m really hoping you comment here, I’d like to get a lively discussion going:

Is your glass half-full, half-empty, or poisoned? 

Do you know people who have it good and think it’s bad? Do you know people who have it bad, but just keep on chugging like the little engine that could? Which type are you? Were you born that way? Or did circumstances make you that way? What do you think? Tell me in the comments below!

And for a change, I’m going to be one of the authors who answers my question…

I came up with this question because I have always felt like the sole optimist in my family.

My parents had tough times growing up — my dad experienced prejudice and war in Europe and my mother lived through the Great Depression. Yet I know lots of people who have gone through the same time period and emerged hopeful and confident.

I know people who suffered far greater losses, both physically and emotionally than my parents did, yet still manage to expect a favorable outcome from everyday situations. I’ve often wondered whether there is a genetic component to it, or…well… I wonder about those things because I’m adopted and the most optimistic person I know — my husband — comes from a line of optimists going back to the plague years. They’ve been through all kinds of hell, and they still have a positive outlook. My husband is the kind of guy who, if he fell out of a plane, would text me pictures all the way down with the caption, “Look, isn’t this cool?”

What triggers one person to look on the bright side and another to get lost in the shadows? I don’t know. I only know when I’m recapping the year of a bad accident, or a the year our house burned, I am usually mitigating it, saying, “Well… of course we were so lucky. We all got out okay. We had insurance. We had friends who helped us out. We had fun, even. It was an adventure.” We were lucky. I always feel lucky, I always feel blessed, even when bad things happen. I got to be there when my father died, I got to help lay my mother to rest. Those things were possible and I felt lucky.

To an optimist, this means I’m rolling with the punches right? To my mother, it just meant NOTHING REALLY BAD HAS HAPPENED YET. There will be another shoe, and when it drops, you will no longer be able to feel lucky.

Which always sounds like a curse to me. “Someday all that happy you’re storing up right now will not be enough, and then you will understand how I feel.”

I’m not charmed. I’ve been in car accidents. We lost both my parents and parents-in-law. My house burned and I lost most of my most treasured sentimental possessions. Our finances suffered severe setbacks during the recession we’ve never recovered from. I expect, in time, to lose my health and/or my beloved husband to the diseases of old age and eventually I expect to die. I don’t expect it will be easy or painless. Those things aren’t what ifs, they’re given.

And of course I fear every mother’s nightmare — the loss of my children. You can never be prepared for that. The loss of one of my kids would probably put me in the ground early, and yet, it only makes me want to love them even more right this very second. It makes me want to wake them up and ask them every question I have, to find every little thing about them so I can commit it to memory for later. It makes me want to really wallow in what I have right now, and not look ahead to how it might all be taken away.

So I’m not really sure. Am I an optimist? A pessimist? I realist? Am I fooling myself that I have a pretty good attitude and I can go with the flow, whatever happens? I really don’t know. I hope so, but I really don’t know. I guess I’ll say what I always say… Stay Tuned…

Pre-Order My Heartache Cowboy at Amazon

~*~

Half full! I want to keep adding to it, adding to the joy of living. I’ve got so much more I want to learn, to experience, to say, to share, to write. I want to fill that cup with everything I possibly can. And I want to share all those things with others, and then keep on filling up that cup again and again.

Writing (and reading) fiction is a big part of that for me. With each new story, I get to experience all that passion and suspense and love that goes into those characters’ lives, and it’s such a rush to take that journey with them. I’m also very fortunate that, as a writer, I get to share all that with others, and then do it all over again and again.

Thanks so much ZAM for including me in your Sunday Brunch blog series. –Sloan Parker

Purchase MORE THAN JUST A GOOD BOOK: Amazon   B&N   All Romance eBooks.

This Just In…

Eddie: Grime Doesn’t Pay is an LR Cafe nominee for Best Contemporary Book

Eddie and Andrew have dynamite chemistry. But Eddie is profoundly dyslexic, and Andrew lives to read. Andrew is pathologically disorganized, and Eddie likes things neat and clutter-free.

Andrew is desperately ashamed of his hoarder father, and Eddie is embarrassed by his lack of education — secrets that could pull them apart even as a friend’s tragedy brings them together.

When Andrew’s father’s condition deteriorates and he nearly dies because of his compulsion, Eddie and Andrew must learn compassion begins with loving oneself.

Read More, HERE

ZAM AT RT 2013

I made the blog my landing page. Yes! This is the same website, but rather than have that same old boring landing page, I decided to do my posts up front here. You can still find all the information you need about me and links to freebies and all that other good stuff under the About Me page.

If you want to get to the books? Click on books.

Berkley is getting ready to release My Heartache Cowboy on the 21st of January. I’m very excited about this one, these guys are really dear to my heart. I’ll be embarking on a massive blog tour, so forewarned is forearmed, yeah? I plan to be everywhere.

Tune me out if you get sick of me, but I’ll be stopping at people’s blogs with interviews, getting shout-outs from fellow authors, and giving away prizes.

Click to Pre-order My Heartache Cowboy

Last but not least, if you haven’t signed up for my newsletter, now’s the time. I’ll be conducting a SUPER-SEEKRIT contest for Newsletter members only. Would you like a chance to be a part of J-Bar history? If you loved Crispin and Malloy, you’re going to want to be in on this!

Join Club ZAM Now!

Today my guest is DC Juris, an online pal I had the good fortune to finally meet at one of the GRLs!

Who is DC Juris? In a few words, he’s a Star Trek loving, cupcake making, football watching, rubber duck collecting, drag show attending, full of fabulous with a capital F kinda guy.

In a few more words, he’s a Southern transplant who has retained none of his accent but all of his charm, an out and proud transgender bisexual Geek living in Upstate New York with his husband, three dogs, three cats, two Tribbles, two Ceti Alpha V eels, and a menagerie of Halloween props just creepy enough to keep people guessing about his sanity.

He’s still hopelessly single when it comes to the woman in his life, and he’ll gladly entertain offers or applications for the position! In the rare event that His Geekiness is not writing, DC can be found watching and rewatching Star Trek (TOS), surfing the internet for porn research, stalking things he “needs” on Ebay, reading, taking pictures of the world around him, or playing games on his iPhone, which he admits to being blissfully in love with. You can keep up with him at www.facebook.com/dcjuris, or www.dcjuris.com, or his blog at http://dcjuris.blogspot.com.

Here’s his snippet. Be sure to send guesses about which DC Juris book we have here to me at zamaxfield (at) zamaxfield (dot) com (you know the drill) and put Teaser Tuesday in the subject line. I will randomly select one winner who will get to choose an ebook from Daniel’s backlist!

Last week’s random Teaser Tuesday winner, from #1 and #2, you lucky devil, TRIX! I’ll send your email to Kate and Carolina, thanks for playing along!

*****

“Um, guys?” **** called out. “There’s people coming.”

******* tore his gaze away, though he didn’t move, and his fingers dug into my cheek a little. “Just what we need. Fuck me,” he groaned.

I’d love to.

He stood up and grabbed my hand to haul me up to my feet as well.

“Hey there!” one of the people shouted.

******* chuckled. “Inconspicuous lot, aren’t they?” He glanced at me again. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Definitely.” I nodded. I didn’t know if I was or not, but if ******* wanted me to be okay, I’d be okay. Hell, I’d have tried to be anything for him right then.

“Stay behind me,” he instructed as he walked up to them.

Ten men and three women made up the group, and they looked to range in age anywhere from teenagers to a woman in her fifties, maybe. I’d never been a really good judge of age. They were grungy and smelly—proof they’d been on the streets for a while.

“Hi there!” one of the men stuck out his hand to *******. “I’m ***.”

******* looked him up and down through narrow eyes, no doubt wondering, as was I, why he was being so friendly. “I’m *******.”

“You three out here by yourselves?” *** asked.

If his name really was ***. My stomach knotted at the way several of the men were ogling ****—as though he was a tasty snack. I edged over closer to him and listened as ******* and The Man Who Would Be Called *** exchanged pleasantries and small talk.

“We’re camped out a couple miles west of here. It’s a real nice spot,” *** revealed. “You’re welcome to come back with us.”

******* shook his head. “We’re headed east.”

“Toward Copper Valley? Yeah, everyone we’ve met has been headed there. It’s not too far out of your way, though. And your boy there looks like he could use some medical attention.” He pointed at me.

I stood up straighter. “I’m fine.” I wasn’t, though. It had taken all my strength to walk over to **** without showing the pain in my ankle, and I was pretty certain my right wrist was at least sprained.

“He’s bleeding.” One of the others pointed out. “He get bitten?”

I hadn’t even realized the blood oozing from the scrapes on my arms, and seeping through the knees of my jeans.

“He fell.” ******* glanced at me. “Just a little bruised up.”

“They’ll smell him a mile away.” *** sniffed the air in apparent demonstration.

“I’m fine,” I repeated.

[Editor's note: okay now I'm officially shaking in my shoes for those guys. Lots of great tension here. Wow.]

Okay, and now we come to Second Breakfast, in honor of our Hobbit Friends, and also our rascally writer brunch host, who was out of town last week. This is the second edition of Sunday Brunch with Friends.

Today we’re talking about winter holidays. I know, I know. You all understand that I come to winter from a completely different perspective. We have a mediterranean climate where I live, and there really isn’t any winter to speak of. I can go to the beach to surf (in a wetsuit) or the mountains to ski today. That’s how we roll. Where I live it’s between 60 degrees and 90 degrees 80% of the year.

Last Sunday Brunch Winner: Kate!

Not really all that excited to have no seasons, but I was born here. There are wintertime activities though, all over (besides holiday shopping) and today my pals answer the question:

What’s your favorite winter pastime?

Share your own favorite winter pastimes in the comments for a chance to win ebooks from these lovely authors. Just comment for a chance to win!

Snowfall.

At a time when most of the country has been inside shivering and cursing Jack Frost due to the mysterious (and apparently imaginary) phenomenon of the polar vortex, winter, for some of us living in bi-seasonal California, still holds its glittery appeal.

When ZAM posed this question I was suddenly sucked through time, experiencing a shuffling of memories, all variations of me walking down snowy roads, in either the soft lux of daylight or in the pitch of a blanketed night…but in every scene, my head is thrown back, arms flung wide, my tongue stretched painfully past the point of resistance, straining to catch each fat goose-downy flake drifting by.

It doesn’t matter if the memory is from a frosty Salt Lake City night at age five when the snow was so high that the paths we wore through the backyard banked at our shoulders; or when my own girl was three—swimming in an outdoor heated pool at Lake Tahoe in early February, the snow falling in our hair.

Snowfall is Magic.

I don’t care how paltry the winter offering is; just standing outside in the drifting silence is enough to make my spirit soar.

On the ground, snow becomes the material of adventure or exertion—depending on age, inclination, and responsibility…but the stuff fresh from the sky is a wonder and I would give almost anything to be there in those moments with you, my frozen US friends—catching snowflakes. – Author LE Bryce

Thank you Zam for including me in another Sunday Blog. My current release is Snow Globe, a short about an artist looking for his own piece of winter magic. [Editor's Note: I can't tell you how much I LOVE that cover. I just want to feed them hot soup!]

You can find it at  Dream Spinner Press or  Amazon.com.

~*~

Winter. Ahhh. You know what the most awesome thing to do in the winter is? Not be hot. Now, before you all say, oh K.A., you’re always hot—and thank you very much, but that’s just the writing talking—I’m really talking about the outside temperature. I love being bundled in warm clothes, snuggling down under the weight of blankets with a good book or with someone to inspire a good book in me. Err, with me?

And I love the muffling, insulation of snow. I love to stand in the woods and watch it fall, listen to the whispers of it as it deadens sound and makes everything a beautiful black and white picture with only evergreens and cardinals for splashes of color. I could stand there until I freeze.

Oops, I think I may be channeling Wallace Stevens there.

So then it’s back into the house under the fluffy, fuzzy blankets with tea and a good book. You know what else is awesome about winter? No one ever says, “You’re going to stay inside and read on a day like this?”

Yeah, so come on do it with me. Comfy surface? Check. Blankets? Check. Hot beverage? Check. Book? You don’t have one? Well, leave a comment with your favorite winter activity and one will be randomly selected for a ten dollar Amazon gift card. Now, go forth and snuggle. [Editor's Note: COOL! A Givaway. Go forth and Comment!]

Bad Attitude is available at  Samhain  Amazon   ARE   B&N

[Editor’s second note: Check out what’s coming April 15th, one reason to LOVE Tax day this year:

~*~

Winter?

We have winter in So. Cal?

Seriously, I was riding around with the top down and wearing short sleeves on Christmas Eve. The week of New Years, I sweated through my leathers when I rode my Harley to the office. Winter around these parts means it just gets a little rainier.

So, not so much winter, but the holidays in general. I love gearing up for them. Thanksgiving and Christmas and then on to New Years. Walking through the stores with all the snowy displays that are so out of place when it’s 80 degrees outside. Watching a Charlie Brown Christmas for the 10,000th time. Putting up all three trees (yes we have three full-sized trees throughout the house). Holiday meals. Get togethers. Finally, chowing down on LA Street Dogs while standing on Colorado Blvd. watching and smelling the floats of the Rose Parade as the punctuation mark at the end of that festive rollercoaster.

If it rains, well then that’s an excuse to huddle inside with the dogs, cats and kids and watch movies. We play a lot more poker, having friends over for that, since it’s in between sports seasons – which everyone’s kids are involved in.

The weather is similar, but “winter” does have a different vibe than spring or fall. ~~Author James Buchanan

Purchase Laying Ghosts  Amazon   ARE   B&N