What’s in the booooox?

Well. Honestly, I’m not sure. I’m just cramming books in there however they’ll fit. I’ve seen some Debbie Macomber, some Merline Lovelace, a bunch of Harlequin Historicals and Silhouette Intimate moments.

What you get is a SURPRISE!

These books are in mostly decent condition, but they are of grab-bag quality. So. You want a surprise package of vintage romances? Comment here with your favorite thrift-store or bargain find! I’ll pick on winner by Sunday, 9 pm EST. You must live in the United States for this one (sorry, it’s because of postage).

c’mon! You know you want to see what’s in the boooxxxxx!!!

M

Are you a writer with questions about writing?
Ask!

Are you a reader with questions about writing?
Ask!

Are you Keanu Reeves, wanting to take me on a motorcycle ride?

…you don’t even NEED to ask.

So! G’wan. Ask away!

M

He had a new album out a few weeks ago, and I had the privilege of getting a sneak listen to one of the songs — Best Shot. Hooray!

Here’s a video of him singing another song off the new album:

Awww. Boys with guitars. I can’t get enough!

Here he sings Best Shot, which is also on the new album, though in a different version. I love the version in this video, but the one on the album is EVEN BETTER. (you stupid, sexy, son-of-a-gun!)

and this, just for fun.

You can learn more about him from his website and his Twitter.

musicians: I’m always looking for new music. If you’d like to be featured on Tunes Tuesday, drop me a line at readinbed @ gmail.com and point me toward your songs! No promises, but if I like what I hear, I’ll feature you. And, I listen to all kinds of music except Christian Inspirational!

It’s meant to be quiet.

Creepy. With a twist.

Anyway, it sparked a conversation about horror novels, especially from the 80s. I’d come home from the library with stacks of books, and back in those days, it seemed like horror was everywhere. Not just Stephen King, but Dean Koontz. John Saul. John Farris. Robin Cook. I started reading Clive Barker in the mid 80s, didn’t discover Robert McCammon until a bit later, but loved his books too.

One of my favorite horror novels of all time is The Other, by Thomas Tryon. It’s not even really…a horror novel, except that it is. Another is The Fury by John Farris. I read that book oh…twenty times. It was always on the shelf at my grandma’s house, and I was really too young to be reading it, but I did. I loved that book so much, even though I didn’t understand most of it until much later, that I had to buy my own copy as an adult. In fact, I feel like I’d want to read it again! (Now if only I can find my copy. I think I lent it to someone, along with American Psycho, dammit! I want to read that again, too.)

My more recent horror reads have been Justin Cronin’s The Passage — totally delighted me, as it wasn’t at all what I expected. I’m on the third book of Guillermo del Toro’s Strain series, which I also liked. And I also read Ronald Malfi’s The Floating Staircase which was deliciously creepy and also…quiet. That was a quiet, scary book that I still think about, now and again.

I guess the point of my musing is that horror fell out of fashion, though it never went away. In the 80s it seemed like you could go into the bookstore or library and find dozens of horror novels with lurid covers. Lots of demon possessions, cult stuff, etc. Not so much with the vampires and werewolves, unless they were the villains, not the heroes.

I don’t think horror went away. It’s just packaged differently now. You find it in the literature section, tucked in between like, Philippa Gregory and Jodi Picoult. You have to sort of know what you’re looking for, it’s not as easy to just stumble across it.

And zombies, of course. Zombies are becoming more and more popular, which is good for me because I LOVE zombie fiction. But also sort of bad, because that means that it’s trendy and then there’s a bunch of crap floating around.

Anyway, that’s my musing for today, about horror, since I just finished my quiet, hopefully creepy, horror novel. That I would very much like to have other people read someday soon…

What are your favorite horror novels?

M

ODD!

When writing All Fall Down I had a lot of opportunity to delve into the odd. One of the important things I wanted to cover while writing the story though, was showing that what might seem odd to one person was normal to another, and how easily it might actually be to discover your viewpoint can change when faced with something you’re not used to. I wanted the characters in the book to gain new perspectives.

And maybe readers, too!

ALL FALL DOWN

Sunny didn’t smile. If she’d given Liesel any other look instead of the steady, solemn gaze she was now giving her, Liesel would have jumped to the assumption the girl was playing sort of joke on her. Not a funny one, more like a trick. Instead,Sunny picked up one of the cans she’d unpacked from the grocery bags and set aside on the counter. She turned it to squint at the label, bringing it very close to her eyes, then holding it farther. She turned it toward Liesel.

“Corn syrup. It’s in a lot of things, most everything, and it’s a toxin.” Sunny said this with the absolute authority of someone who knows without a doubt that she’s right. “It makes people sick. It can cause all sorts of problems. It makes you fat, rots your teeth, it can give you cancer.”

Liesel had in fact heard something about corn syrup being bad for you, but a toxin? She sighed. “Oh, Sunny.”

“It’s all right,” Sunny said. “I took care of it for you.”

She walked to the drawer that pulled out to reveal the garbage can, full of a disgusting, gloppy mess of what looked like everything from tomato paste to canned soup. Sunny turned with a proud smile. “And I recycled all the cans, too. I noticed you didn’t have a recycling bin, but I found one in the garage. It had some things in it, but I put them aside. I’d have put them away but I didn’t know where you wanted them.”

She moved toward the French doors to lift up a familiar red and green bin Liesel had used to store the Christmas decorations Christopher’s grandmother had given them.

“Where did you put the stuff that was in the bin?” Liesel hadn’t seen anything that looked out of place in the garage, but then she hadn’t been looking.

“On the bench with all the tools.”

Liesel went first to the garage to find the dozens of hand-spun glass ornaments, many of them antiques, settled among Christopher’s hammers, wrenches and screwdrivers. They all seemed to be still wrapped securely in their nests of cotton batting and bubble wrap, but still — the workbench was not the place for expensive heirlooms. Jaw set, she went back to the kitchen to find Sunny opening up one of the cans Liesel had just brought home, ready to dump the contents.

“No!”

Sunny looked surprised and stopped. Then, like a garage door sliding down, her expression shuttered. “What?”

“No, Sunny. Don’t you dump that stuff.” Liesel took the can from Sunny’s fingers, but it was already punctured. Now they’d have to eat it tonight or it would go bad. It was baked beans, not Liesel’s favorite but they’d eat it anyway. “That’s like tossing money away. You might as well just flush my paycheck down the toilet.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Food costs money.” Surely the girl understood that. She couldn’t be that sheltered…or simple. Could she?

“I know. But it’s bad food, Liesel. Corn syrup causes all kinds of disease. It harms your vessel. If you can’t grow your own food, fresh, it’s best to keep it as simple as possible.”

“It wasn’t yours to dump,” Liesel said, sounding too harsh.

Sunny’s expression didn’t change except, if it were possible, to get blanker. She backed up a step. Paced a few more, swiveled on her heel. Then back again. Her fists clenched together, fingers linked. She paused, head hanging, the intricate design of her braid somehow making her ears and chin and neck seem all the more exposed.

Liesel fought her own expression, which wanted to twist and turn into ugliness. “Look. Sunny. I know all of this is crazy and new to you…”

“It is,” Sunny said in a low voice, without looking at her. “We’ve already talked about this. You’re going to tell me you understand, that you know it will take time. That me and my kids are welcome here, in my father’s house.”

It was exactly what Liesel had been about to say, the same words she’d already said several times over the past few days. “All of that is true.”

Sunny faced her. “But you don’t understand, Liesel. You can’t ever understand, I don’t think.”

“Because I’m blemished?” Liesel asked wearily.

“Because you’ve lived your whole life in a house like this!” Sunny cried, her blank mask slipping for a moment to reveal the agonized girl beneath.

From upstairs came a thin wail. Bliss. Sunny let her eyes roll upward, but she didn’t move. She looked back at Liesel.

“Why don’t you have any children?”

“I…we…” Liesel frowned. “That’s not really any of your business.”

From upstairs came a series of thumps. Another short cry. Liesel would’ve been up the stairs by now, but Sunny just cocked her head as though assessing not just the volume of the cry, but its nature. She shook her head a little and pushed away a tendril of hair that had fallen over her face.

“You don’t have to let us stay here.”

Liesel sighed. “Of course I do, Sunny. Where else would you go? A homeless shelter? Or maybe you’d like to give up your kids –”

“No!”

“Well,” Liesel said again with that same harsh tone she was disturbed to realize tasted too familiar, “that’s what would happen if you don’t stay here. You’ll be out on the street. And the state will take your kids from you.”

It sounded too much like a threat, and she hadn’t meant it to be. It was the simple truth. Hard, unpleasant. But true.

“I’m not a child.”

“I know you’re not,” Liesel said, again too harshly but unable to keep herself without emotion. “But let’s face it, you’re as much to take care of as one.”

“I am as a child in my father’s house.” Sunny coughed against the back of her hand, not looking at Liesel. It sounded like a quote Liesel should know the source of, but didn’t. “But that’s not what you mean, is it?”

“No. And I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it.”

“You meant it, didn’t you?” Sunny shrugged, still without looking at her.

Liesel sighed and put both her hands on the counter top, leaning forward for support, her shoulders tense and back aching. “But I shouldn’t have said it. It wasn’t nice.”

“If it’s true, does it have to be nice? If you have something true to say, but you don’t say it because you just want to be nice, isn’t that sort of like a lie?” Sunny looked at her again, her words a question but her face showing no signs of curiosity.

“Is that what your…is that what Papa taught you?”

“Not to speak with a liar’s tongue. Yes. We’re taught not to.”

“So…you always tell the truth?”

Sunny hesitated. “We’re supposed to. If we don’t, someone will tell it for us. You can’t go through the gates with the weight of lies and misdeeds holding you back.”

Liesel looked around her ruined kitchen, the hundreds if not thousands of dollars of wasted food. She thought of three small faces and the clasp of tiny fingers in hers. “Nobody expects all of this to just magically be all right for any of us.”

“I know that.”

“But it will get better,” Liesel said.

Sunny looked at her. “Are you saying that because you think it’s true? Or because you think it’s nice?”
“Sunny,” Liesel said with a smile the girl slowly returned, “sometimes, it can be the same thing.”

Have you ever changed your perspective about something you once found odd?

M

Eliza Gayle
Rhian Cahill
Anne Rainey
Jody Wallace
Lissa Matthews
Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Myla Jackson
Taige Crenshaw
Alison Kent
Delilah Devlin
HelenKay Dimon
Leah Braemel
Shelli Stevens
Shiloh Walker
TJ Michaels
Zoë Archer

What’s in the booooox?

Well. Honestly, I’m not sure. I’m just cramming books in there however they’ll fit. I’ve seen some Debbie Macomber, some Merline Lovelace, a bunch of Harlequin Historicals and Silhouette Intimate moments.

What you get is a SURPRISE!

These books are in mostly decent condition, but they are of grab-bag quality. So. You want a surprise package of vintage romances? Comment here with your favorite thrift-store or bargain find! I’ll pick on winner by Sunday, 9 pm EST. You must live in the United States for this one (sorry, it’s because of postage).

c’mon! You know you want to see what’s in the boooxxxxx!!!

M

Are you a writer with questions about writing?
Ask!

Are you a reader with questions about writing?
Ask!

Are you Norman Reedus, wanting to take a picture of me while we listen to The Glitch Mob?
…you don’t even NEED to ask.

So! G’wan. Ask away!

M

And I was totally hooked.
THIS SONG, GUYS! OMG, THIS SONG!!!!!

If I could have this song, a fireplace, a bearskin rug and Norman Reedus…well.

But there’s also this one:

And a whole lot more!

Learn more about them at their website and at Twitter.

And buy their music! It’s awesomazing.

musicians: I’m always looking for new music. If you’d like to be featured on Tunes Tuesday, drop me a line at readinbed @ gmail.com and point me toward your songs! No promises, but if I like what I hear, I’ll feature you. And, I listen to all kinds of music except Christian Inspirational!

In my own work, three of my main characters stand out as having unique friendships.

In Dirty, Elle would say she has no friends, at least in the beginning. But her relationship with Marcy morphs into friendship and includes one of my favorite scenes in the book:

I’d stopped into the break room to fill up my mug with coffee before the afternoon meeting when sex again waylaid me.

To be fair, it wasn’t sex, exactly, but Marcy with waggling eyebrows and a whispered “I’ve got it!”

She waved me over to the table toward the back, where she’d either been doing loads of cocaine or eating powdered doughnuts again. I looked at the napkin with its tell-tale evidence and looked for a bakery box, but she was good. All that remained were a few incriminating crumbs.

“What do you have, aside from a sugar high you didn’t share?”

“No,” she said with a meaningful pause to shoot a glance at the floor. “IT.”

I looked at the bag at her feet. Non-descript brown paper, no logo on the side. The sort of thing porn magazines were delivered in.

Then I knew what it was. The Black Jack. You might think that after so many embarrassing escapades in my life, my blush function would be broken, but sadly, it continues to advertise my least discomfort. Heat spread from my chest, up my throat and all the way to my hairline. Marcy laughed.

“It’s gorgeous,” she told me. “I made sure to bring fresh batteries for you.”

“Thanks. I’m sure it could’ve waited until I got home.”

“Maybe. But I wanted to make sure you could use it right away.” Her blue eyes glinted. “It’s so cute, the way you blush.”

“It’s not cute.” I set down my handful of files on the table and took the package from her. It was heavier than I expected, the cardboard tube unmarked, the same as the bag in which she’d brought it. A thought struck me. “You didn’t…try it out. Did you?”

Her disgusted expression forced a giggle from me. “No, ew, Elle! EWWW!”

“Just checking.”

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

I shook my head. “Not here.”

“Oh, c’mon.”

Marcy should be classified a force of nature. There is no resisting her when she has her mind set on something. All she had to do was give me a look, and my fingers obediently began working the tape covering the box’s lid.

“What do you use, the Jedi Mind Trick?” I grumbled, slitting the tape and prying open the cardboard flap.

Marcy hooted. “Mmm…Obi-Wan Canboneme.”

“God, you’re such a dirty pervert. You’ll make Alec Guinness roll over in his grave.” I pulled open the flap.

Marcy pursed her lips. “I’ll roll Ewan McGregor over, thanks. C’mon, pull it out!”

I looked around the room, but it was still empty. I didn’t hear anyone outside in the hall, either. I looked back at the box and then opened it up all the way.

The Black Jack lay cuddled in its bed of protective bubble-wrap. It didn’t look that sexy. In fact, if I hadn’t already known what it was, I might have thought it was a large black candle or something, instead of a phallic-shaped sex toy.

“Take it out!” Marcy bounced with glee, peering over my shoulder “Let’s see!”

“I thought you already saw it,” I said, but obliged her by unfolding the bubble wrap.

“Oooh.” Marcy cooed with pleasure. “It’s so classy, Elle. Just like you.”

“Oh, good lord, Marcy.” I wanted to clap a hand to my forehead. “Vibrators are not classy!”

“That one is.”

It did have a certain aesthetic charm with its sleek design and deep ebony color. The small, ridged handle, made of molded black plastic to seamlessly match the rest of the device, fit comfortably in my palm. It had weight to it. Solid. For a moment my brain imagined it would make as good a weapon as it would a tool for lovemaking.

“Turn it on!”

“Marcy, no!” I pulled the Black Jack protectively against my chest to keep it out of reach of her grasping hands. “Jesus!”

Laughing, she poked my arm. “Oh, c’mon, Elle! Make sure it works! Here. I put the batteries in the bag.”

She opened the package of batteries with one long fingernail and handed them to me, one by one. They slid into the Black Jack like bullets into a gun, and after a moment the toy rewarded us with a low hum. It buzzed against my palm, tickling.

Marcy giggled. I did too. We hunched like conspirators over it, Marcy making whispered lewd comments and me shaking my head.

“Ladies?”

I clutched the still-working vibrator against my chest, my wrist hastily twisting to turn it off. The voice belonged to Lance Smith, one of the Smiths in Smith, Smith, Smith and Brown. He was the youngest Smith, the third, and a nice guy with a family of three gap-toothed children and a plump wife who sometimes brought him lunch. She liked expensive chocolate truffles from Sweet Heaven. He was also my boss. I definitely did not want him to see my deviant little dildo.

“Lance,” Marcy said. “Time for the meeting?”

“Yep. Elle, you’ve got the files on the charity information, right?”

“Sure, Lance,” I told him cheerfully without turning around.

“Great. Oh, we’re meeting in the big room today. Dad’s coming. See you there in five.”

Dad was the senior Smith. Walter. He’d retired two years before but liked to keep active with the firm’s charitable contributions. He, too, was a nice man. I didn’t want him to see my sex toy, either.

“We’d better get over there.” Marcy’s eyes danced with amusement. “We don’t want to keep Walt waiting.”

That wouldn’t have been a good idea. And since my office was on the other side of the building, away from the meeting room, that meant I’d have to find a place to stash the Black Jack until afterwards. I looked around, but putting it in the cupboard was too risky. My luck, someone would go looking for more creamer and find my Black Jack instead.

“Put it back in the box and just carry it with you,” Marcy suggested as I looked around the room. “Nobody will know what it is.”

It was the best suggestion, and I enfolded it back into the bubble wrap only to discover it no longer fit back into the box correctly. Voices in the hall alerted me to our co-workers heading down to the meeting room. Time didn’t allow for vibrator wrestling.

“Just leave off the wrapping. Here.” Marcy took the wrap and tossed it in the garbage while I slid the plastic, already warm from my hand, back into its cardboard sheathe. “All set.”

I tucked in the flap and picked up my folders. “All set.”

Marcy and I didn’t often have much work-related interaction, since she dealt with personal accounts and I handled corporations. One project we were able to work together on was the company’s annual participation in Harrisburg’s Children Are Our Future event. Featuring displays, free food, demonstrations and giveaways by area businesses, the event raised money for children’s charities in the Dauphin County area. I’d been on the planning committee for four years. This year they were asking participating companies not only to pay for booth space, but to make matching donations from their employees.

I settled my things at the table and greeted my co-workers with small talk while we waited for everyone to arrive. Lance caught my eye from across the table and quickly looked away. A few minutes later the rest of the committee had arrived and we began our discussions.

There wasn’t much to plan. We’d reserved the booth space in one of the higher traffic areas of the event, which was going to be set up inside the Strawberry Square shopping center. The indoor mall with its food court and specialty shops had a convoluted layout, and the year before we’d been stuck in a back corner. We’d had to bring home almost our entire supply of goodies.

I listened to reports from the man in charge of setting up and tearing down the booth, and the woman overseeing the handing out of notepads, pens and magnets with the company logo and information to parents. For the children we had balloons and small gift bags stuffed with candy and plastic treats, as well as popcorn. Marcy would be manning the popcorn maker. I was handling the employee contributions and disbursements to the charity Triple Smith was sponsoring.

“Elle?” Walter Smith beamed at me from his chair at the head of the table. “What have you got for us?”

I shifted the box with my Black Jack inside it and flipped open my folder. I cleared my throat. I knew all of these people – some rather better than others – and yet I still felt awkward about speaking in front of them all. It was the way they stared, like my words mattered.

“The past four years we’ve built a good relationship with the Capital Area Sexual Abuse Awareness Foundation,” I said. “Because CASAAF isn’t a government-funded program, they continue to need our support. Last year they used the money we donated to purchase anatomically correct dolls that allow children to role-play their situations if they’re unable to articulate them.”

I paused, clearing my throat again, and wishing I’d thought to grab a bottle of water instead of a mug of now-cold coffee. “They also used the money to implement training in their volunteers to utilize the dolls. This year Barry Leis, the Director, told me they intend to put the funds toward a series of summer camp programs about personal body safety.”

“Very good,” murmured Walter.

“Are there any objections to continuing naming CASAAF our beneficiary for this event?” I looked around the table, expecting as I did every year to get opposition and again having none. It reminded me I should have more faith in my co-workers. That people really do care.

We briefly discussed the possibility of having a bake sale to raise employee donations that Triple Smith would then match. I didn’t bake. Marcy made a face, too. We decided on a candy sale, instead.

Walter gave me another warm smile as I closed my folder. “Thank you, Elle. We really appreciate the work you’ve done toward this matter.”

His praise warmed me, and I returned his smile. Then it was Lance’s turn. The buzzing began when he stood up to go over the logistics of the event, who’d use what company vehicle to transport which items, who’d be in charge of petty cash, who’d be in the office on that day and who’d be at Strawberry Square. At first nobody else noticed, though the instant the low hum began I’d sat up straight in my seat. I deliberately did not look at the box containing my Black Jack.

I couldn’t look at Marcy, either, who sat across from me. The buzzing stopped after a few seconds. I relaxed. Lance droned on, using his pointer to go over his lists up on the whiteboard.

The buzzing started again. Louder, this time. Marcy gave a strangled giggle she turned into a sort of snorting cough. My entire body went rigid and the only reason I managed not to let out a squeak was because I bit my tongue so hard I thought I tasted blood. Lance looked over at the two of us, his smooth forehead wrinkling a bit, but he kept talking.

Marcy was trying to get my attention, but I was trying to surreptitiously shift the Black Jack box so it would stop on its own. All I did was make it worse.

Marcy started giggling. People were staring, curious. I bit down on my lower lip and closed my fingers around the box. The vibration got louder. It sounded like a hive of bees.

There was no mistaking the interest the noise had garnered. Not so long ago the situation would have sent me into a panic. This time, all I could do was stifle my increasingly desperate giggles with my hand while I tried to shake the box and make it stop.

Lance paused in his speech and turned around again. Everyone stared. I grabbed the box and shook it, hard, which set the Black Jack into an even greater indignancy of rattling.

“It’s a gift,” I explained lamely over the sound. “For a friend. One of those automated cat toys….”

Marcy burst out into guffaws and slapped the table. This wasn’t an unexpected response from her, so nobody seemed to mind. On the other hand, I’m not sure anyone there had ever seen me react so extremely to anything.

Something about laughter is so contagious it infects anyone who hears it. Marcy’s guffaws blended with Brian Smith’s raised-brow chuckles and Walter Smith’s bemused snicker, as well as the laughter of everyone else at the table. Including mine. I shook the box again, irritating it further, then banged it on the table.

It fell silent while we all still laughed. I laughed harder because none of the others in the room had any idea about what, exactly, had set us off. The room shared five more minutes of collective good feeling before we tapered off into small chuckles and got back to business. Lance finished up the meeting and we dispersed. I made sure to handle the box carefully.

Buy Dirty

In Naked, Olivia and Sarah are the sort of friends who are never afraid to tell each other the truth.

“You have a seriously warped idea of what’s romantic,” Sarah said from around a mouthful of sushi.

“You look so cute with rice falling out of your mouth.”

She snorted and dabbed up the fallen crumbs with a thumb, then licked them off. She pointed her chopsticks, the ends stained with soy sauce, at me. “Dude says you have a fat ass and you get all squishy? Warped.”

“He did not say I had a fat ass,” I rebutted. Alex had, in fact, spent the next fifteen minutes telling me how much he liked my behind. And my in front. And all the other bits in between.

She shrugged and dipped another piece of spicy tuna into the soy-wasabi mixture. “Meh. Don’t listen to me. I’m just jealous you’re all getting laid and stuff, and I’m at home alone with my hand.”

“Poor thing. Don’t you have a B.O.B.?”

“Ran out the batteries on that sucker and haven’t upgraded,” my friend said with a grin. Then another shrug. “Battery operated boyfriends can’t take you out for sushi.”

“I’m the one taking you out for sushi,” I pointed out.

Sarah licked her chopsticks seductively. “Any chance of me getting lucky?”

I laughed so loud the other diners turned their heads to stare. “Um…no.”

“Why, ‘cuz you’re all gooey and gushy over Mr. Alex Gigantic Magic Cock Kennedy? What did he do, give you his class ring?”

From anyone else it would’ve sounded like mocking, but I knew Sarah well enough to know she was teasing. “Don’t hate.”

She laughed when I imitated her and stole a piece of salmon-avocado roll from my plate. “I can’t help it. I’m jealous. Or envious, maybe. I don’t wish you didn’t have what I want. I just wish I had it, too.”

“What happened to that guy you hooked up with from the motorcycle shop?”

She fixed me with a typical Sarah look, raised brow, curled lip, totally snarky. “He didn’t like bunnies.”

I stopped with a piece of sushi halfway to my mouth. “So? When did you get a rabbit?”

“I don’t have a rabbit, but I totally can’t get into a guy who hates bunnies. I mean, that’s so…wrong. Who hates bunnies? And he didn’t laugh at LOLcats, either. He said they were…” she lowered her voice, looked around. “Stupid. And lame.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. I dumped him. And the sex was pretty bad. Really bad, actually. Do you know,” she added with another point of her chopsticks, “the last really great fuck I had was with a guy I will never, ever go to bed with ever again?”

Sarah’s love life had more ins and outs and turnabouts than any of my other girlfriends. “Who was that?”

“Oh.” She shrugged again, ate the sushi, drank some hot tea. “Some guy you don’t know.”

“Well, that’s not fair. Why’d you bring it up if you never told me about him?” I finished my sushi and drank my tea, too, thinking about ordering some extra sushi rolls to take home for dinner. “And how do you know you won’t ever get with him again if the sex was so great?”

Sarah laughed, again drawing attention, and shook her head. “Oh, God, no. Joe? No way. He is so not boyfriend material.”

“Ah…so you’re looking for a boyfriend.”

Sarah raised a brow again. “Dude. Where have you been? I am so looking for a boyfriend. I want it all. I want a ring on my finger, I want babies. The works.”

“Huh. Really? Why now, all of a sudden?” In all the time I’d known her, Sarah had always been such a free spirit, definitely more a Flesh for Fantasy than a White Wedding sort of woman.

“It’s not all of a sudden. I’m just freer about admitting it. I don’t want to be in a nursing home when my kids are in college, you know?”

“I know. And I’m older than you, so shut up.”

“Yeah,” Sarah said, “but you have a boyfriend.”

The emphasis she put on the word split my mouth into an inappropriately huge grin. I stifled it, but she saw. She poked my plate with her chopsticks, but grinned, too.

“You liiiiiiike him,” she teased.

“What’s not to like?” I said in my mother’s voice. “He’s very pretty. He’s got a job, sort of, but even if he doesn’t, he’s got money. He’s a good dresser. Great kisser. Anyway, it’s only been a couple days. Too soon to make it into anything it’s not.”

“Don’t forget great lay,” she added and poured more tea for us both. “You ordering take out?”
“Yes.” I pulled the menu toward me and held up the teeny tiny pencil as I looked over the list. “He is a great lay.”

“Well, there you have it. All the makings of a great relationship.”

I sighed and checked off an order for three sushi rolls and a couple sashimis. “Yeah…well. The boyfriend thing. It didn’t work out so well for me before.”

“Pfffft. Wasn’t your fault. Now, not having a boyfriend since then? Your fault.”

“I’ve had…”

“Ah, ah,” she said. “You’ve had a couple fuck buddies, and you’ve had dates. But no boyfriend.”

I swirled my chopsticks through the dots of soy sauce on my plate, making letters. “Yeah. Well…I don’t know if I want him to be my boyfriend. Once bitten and all that.”

Sarah didn’t tease this time. “You can’t let what happened with Patrick scare you off men forever.”

“Alex fucks guys.” I said it flat, but quiet, so nobody else would hear. “I saw him getting head from a guy at Patrick’s Chrismakkah party.”

“What?” Sarah’s shriek echoed around the restaurant. “What the fuck? You didn’t tell me that!”

I shrugged, uncomfortable. “I didn’t tell him I saw. It was dark, they didn’t know I was there.”

She paused. “Was it hot? God, I bet that was really, really smoking hot.”

“Sarah,” I said, annoyed. “Focus.”

“Sorry.” She shrugged, a typical Sarah move. “Bunny, all this means is that you like a little gay in your guy. Nothing wrong with that. You said yourself he’s great in bed, and he’s really into you.”

I sighed again, anxiety I’d managed to tamp down now rearing up in my throat. “What if it’s not just a little gay?”

“Honey. He rocked your world and made you come so hard you saw fireworks. A gay man doesn’t do that. I mean, totally gay dude doesn’t.”

“Patrick –”

She cut me off. “It was never like that with Patrick. Unless you told me a lie. A bunch of lies. Don’t forget, Bunny, I’ve sat with you through more than a few too-many-margaritas nights.”

This was undoubtedly true. “No. It wasn’t like that with Patrick.”

“The sex was non-existent, and he lied to you. Sounds to me like you’re ahead by two already with Alex.”

I thought back over every word we’d ever shared, me and Alex. Every nuance. “No, well, he hasn’t lied, exactly…”

“Have you asked him if he’s into dudes?”

“No.”

Sarah spread her fingers, eyes wide. “So? Are you gonna?”

“I don’t know. What do I do if he says yes?”

“Olivia, baby, honey. Sugar muffin –”

I broke into laughter. “Stop.”

Sarah grinned. “Poopsie.”

I slapped my forehead. “You’re too much.”

“Bunny, I am not enough.” She preened and dissolved into laughter.

“Seriously. What do I do if he says yes?”

“Same stuff you’ve been doing with him, I guess. You already know he’s okay with getting head from a guy. Which, by the way, I’m still sure was totally hot.”

I finished the last of my tea and waited for the server to set down my takeout carton of sushi and hand me the bill before I answered. “It was. But that was before I knew I’d be sleeping with him. It’s different, now. I guess I have a hangup.”

“Who’d blame you?” Sarah looked sympathetic. She could be unflinchingly honest, but she was also the best friend I’d ever had. The best female friend, anyway.

“Patrick says he fucked him. He’s all bent out of shape about me being with Alex –”

“Wait up.” She held up a hand like STOP sign. “You told Patrick before you told me?”

“He was pissed off because we were spending time together, and because we kissed on New Year’s Eve…”

“What? Wait?” Sarah frowned. “You didn’t tell me that, either. You’ve been holding out on me!”

“You,” I said, “didn’t tell me about that last great lay you had.”

She puffed a breath that blew her bangs off her forehead. “Okay. Fine. Whatever. So did you tell Alex you not only saw him getting head from some dude, but that Patrick said they fucked?”

“No.”

“You’d better. If he admits it, then you have it out there between you. If he doesn’t, you know he’s a fucking liar and you cut your losses and get out while you still can.”

“I don’t want him to be a liar.” The words caught in my throat, sticky like rice.

“Bunny, of course you don’t. Just ask him. You’ll feel better. Do it like a Band-Aid, just rip it off and get it over with.”

“I should go,” I said, catching sight of the clock. “Speaking of my own work. I’d like to actually do some since I have to be at my other job the rest of the week.”

“Foto Folks, photos of your mamas. Photos of your papas.” Sarah sang the theme song from the company’s super-annoying commercial. “Pictures of fat ladies in tiaras and feather boas. Pictures that make you want to hurl!”

“Nice. Thanks. That’s my livelihood you’re mocking.”

“Not forever. You’ll be out of that place in a few months. I feel it. You’ll have so much business you won’t be able to handle all of it.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” I said as I got up and counted out the cash, plus tip, to cover the food.

Buy Naked

And finally, in Collide, Emm and Jen share a friendship that made me laugh out loud while writing the book.

“I kissed him,” I said.

She swallowed, throat working, then rinsed her mouth with a swig of milk before finally managing to answer. “Who?”

I guess my face gave her answer enough, because her eyes went wide.

“Yeah,” I said before she could say anything else. “I was so stupid.”

“How? Where? What happened? Oh my God, what was it like?” Her squeals turned heads.

I gestured at her to shush, and told her in a lowered voice the whole story, leaving out the bits about the hallucinations I’d had while dark. She listened without interrupting, only occasionally shaking her head. When I’d finished, I bit into my sandwich so I could keep myself from saying more.

“Oh, girl,” Jen said finally. “That is some messed up shit, right there.”

“I know,” I said miserably. “And this sandwich sucks.”

She laughed. “Yeah, you know there are a dozen other places we could meet for dinner.”

“Yeah…I guess I wanted to come here because. Well, you know.”

“I know.” She licked a smear of jelly from her thumb. “I can’t blame you. I mean, I knew you had it bad, but I didn’t know you had it for realsies.”

“It’s not for realsies,” I pointed out.

“Are you sure?”

“He pushed me away. Dudes don’t push away women they’re kissing if they’re into them.”

“Sometimes they do,” Jen said. “I mean, he might’ve had a reason you don’t know about. Maybe he’s got a girlfriend.”

I snorted. “That would actually be a worse reason than if he’s just not into me.”

“You think so?” Jen didn’t look convinced.

“Yeah. If he’s not into me, which I’m sure he’s not, I can just move on. But if he’s super into me but can’t be with me because he’s with someone else…”

“I see your point,” she said. “That would suck.”

I laughed, feeling a little better at having confessed. “And also totally unlikely. He pushed me away from him like my mouth was poison. Shit, that’s embarrassing.”

“That really is,” Jen said.

We looked at each other for half a minute before busting into cackles of entirely inappropriate laughter. It was good, though. Made me feel better than any sympathetic words or assurances could have.

“You’re not pissed off?” I asked.

“Hell no, why would I be?” Jen looked genuinely confused.

“Well…because…it’s Johnny.”

She snorted laughter again. “It’s not like we were together and he dumped me for you, or anything. I wouldn’t want to have to hire ninjas to cut holes in your favorite jeans.”

“But you liked him first.”

“What, are we in sixth grade? Girl,” Jen told me seriously, “you are going to kick me so hard for saying this, because I know you won’t believe me, but I think he does like you.”

“No way.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I think so. I was in here one day last week when you weren’t, and he came in. He looked around. He looked at me, girl, straight on, but it was the empty seat across from me he was seeing, if you know what I mean.”

“Get out of here! Why didn’t you tell me?” I felt instantly guilty for sounding accusatory when I’d just gotten finished feeling guilty about trying to nab her crush.

“I didn’t think anything of it until you told me this, but it makes sense now.”

“I told you he pushed me away when I kissed him, and you think you remember him looking for me here?” I shook my head with a sigh. “Sorry, that’s really reaching.”

“Hey. What happened before the kiss?”

I thought about how he’d held me against him and stroked my hair. “He was just being nice.”

“You think dudes are just randomly nice like that?”

“Some are! Oh. God.” My stomach dropped out. I put my face in my hands.

“Shew, girl, it ain’t no thing!” She poked me until I looked up.

I couldn’t tell her that I had, in fact, fucked Johnny seven ways to Sunday. In my head. That it had been sweet and dirty and gorgeous, and that I’d already worried that somehow my fantasies had been spurred by something my unconscious body was doing.

The jingle of the Mocha’s doorbell made Jen look over my shoulder. I didn’t have to turn to see who it was. I could tell by the way her eyes widened and the look she gave me, her mouth clamped tight on a smile. I stiffened, closing my eyes briefly. I heard the shuffle of shoes on the floor. I waited for the brush of his coat as he passed me. I opened my eyes.

Johnny stood at our table, looking down at both of us.

Jen, to give her credit, looked barely surprised. I made sure to keep my mouth shut instead of allowing myself to gape like an idiot. We stared up at him. He stared down at us.

“Girls,” Johnny said with a nod, and moved on toward the counter.

That’s when I discovered that being acknowledged was actually hideously worse than being ignored.

Buy Collide

What do you like best about friendships in books?

M

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Hello from ant1mat3rie on Vimeo.

So, it’s Friday Free For All, and today’s freebie is Pleasure and Purpose! blurb: Introducing the women of the Order of Solace

The handmaidens of the Order of Solace are each named for the exquisite service that best reflects their true calling. Their greatest delight is giving pleasure–devoted as they are to fulfilling the desires of the mind, the needs of the soul, and the cravings of the body.

Meet Stillness, called upon to soothe the conscience of a man in need of redemption after a shocking act from his sexual past. Then there’s Honesty, whose vow of Solace is to a prince looking for a submissive handmaiden. Instead, he gets the unexpected. And finally, Determinata, a handmaiden confronted with a client lost in a haze of random sex and drugs. She has just the plan to literally whip her man into shape.

Learn more here.

Want one for your very own? (I’ll even sign it!)

Drop a comment here about your weekend plans, what you’re reading now, what you ate for lunch, I dunn curr…! I’ll pick one winner by Sunday, 9 pm EST.

Happy Friday!

M