Release Day: Changeling

It's here!

 

Today is the official release day for CHANGELING, MetaWars #2.  It's available online and at your local bookstore. I'm excited for this chapter in the MetaWars saga, because it opens up a new side of the world only vaguely hinted at in the first book.  You are also treated to a new perspective on our team of heroes, because this book is narrated by newcomer Dahlia "Ember" Perkins, who you briefly met in TRANCE.

If you want to get a taste of it now, the first chapter is below. Feel free to link, but please don't duplicate without permission.

Thanks to all of my intrepid readers for following Teresa and Company on their next adventure!

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Chapter One

Settling In

            "Who's got the friggin' fire extinguisher?"

            Renee's shout echoed all the way down the main staircase, punctuated by a foot stamped down on the ceiling above me.  I dropped my paint-soaked roller into its pan a little too hard and splattered eggshell interior matte all over the legs of my jeans, adding to the pre-existing splats of burgundy, sage, white, navy blue, and two different wood stains. 

            I was downstairs in the foyer of the mansion we were hip-deep renovating, trying to get a second coat onto the interior walls of the spacious entry.  Even after a primer and first coat, the garish blue-green paint job the home's previous owners subjected themselves to—in a fit of drunken misguidance, one can only hope—continued to peek through.  The home in mostly-deserted Beverly Hills had been on the market for seven years before we bought it; real estate in California anywhere south of Santa Barbara was hard to sell.  Everyone was moving north, just as they had been in the twenty years since the outbreak of the Meta War that had ravaged Los Angeles, among other major cities.  With the last four major film studios located in Vancouver, half of the city's population had defected to Canada.

            Several million residents remained, though, including we six—the last of a defunct group of superheroes once called the Ranger Corps.

            The house we settled on—and after much discussion named Hill House, after a fallen friend—was huge.  More than twenty rooms, a perimeter fence with a built-in security system, an interior courtyard, exterior pool and tennis court, and plastic pipes that didn't need replacing.  Everything else was surface and could be fixed with time and patience.   

            More foot stamping above.  Renee and Ethan had gone upstairs to work on the front room, which was destined to be our common lounge.  I darted toward the main staircase on my right and took the steps two at a time, past the first landing and up to the second floor. 

            The lounge was on my immediate right.  Its floor was bare, stripped of its old carpeting and sanded smooth of ancient carpet glue.  The walls were painted a pleasant lemon yellow and trimmed with walnut molding.  It was a large, L-shaped room, and I stood at the entrance to the short end.

            Ethan "Tempest" Swift sat on the floor by the far wall, next to the open balcony doors.  Morning sunlight glinted off his red hair, seeming to set it on fire.  He clutched his left hand to his chest and scowled at the far end of the room.  I rounded the corner to the longer end of the L and was assaulted by the odor of scorched plastic.  Renee "Flex" Duvall hovered in the center of the room, staring up at the ceiling.  A dusty, broken light fixture lay in pieces at her feet.  Above her, exposed wires dangled and sparked, and light gray smoke twisted out of the hole in the ceiling.

            "Are you two trying to burn us down?" I asked.  I strode over, accidentally bumping Renee sideways with my hip.  She grunted.  I extended my hands toward the exposed wires and concentrated.  The heat pulled into my body, absorbed through my fingertips to settle deep in my belly.  A warm flush filled my cheeks.  A few sparks leapt from the hole to me—little caresses of warmth—and then the threat passed.

            "Yeah, we were hoping to cause a nice fire," Renee said.  Her berry-red lips twisted into a wry smile, the only bit of her skin that wasn't ash-blue.  "Because I love burning down the headquarters I've barely had a chance to live in."

            For a moment, I didn't know if she was serious.  Renee and I had an awkward relationship, to say the least.  I discovered the awesome extent of my powers during the same fire that killed a good friend (possibly a lover) of hers.  I hadn't grown up with her and the others, and she often seemed to view me as an annoyance, rather than a teammate.

            "My fault," Ethan said, hauling ass to his feet.  "I should have turned off the circuit breaker before I decided to try some rewiring."

            I blanched.  "You think?"

            "I'm just trying to be helpful with this whole renovations thing, Dal.  I like to think I can do more than just help the paint dry faster."

            Renee's mouth twitched.  "You know, people might line up for that kind of assistance.  Blow a lot of wind, dry the paint in ten minutes flat.  Contractors would pay good money for you."

            "Not contractors who get paid by the hour."

            Ethan's particular power was control over the air.  His codename, Tempest, fit the ability perfectly.  I had seen him practice dozens of times.  He could concentrate a whirlwind to drill a hole into the ground, and aim a blast of air at an object to knock it loose from a great height.  His most impressive (to me) talent was gliding on air currents to simulate flying.  He looked so free when he did, as close to happy as he ever seemed to get.  Ethan often played peacemaker among our disparate personalities, but he never seemed to find any peace for himself.

            I blew air out through my nose.  "Look, guys, I know that Teresa is all gung-ho about us doing as much as possible ourselves, but there are reasons people hire professional electricians.  Painting is one thing, but electricity is tricky.  Let's just pay someone and get it over with.  We can—"

            "If you say we can afford it one more time, I'll gag you," Renee said.  She planted her hands on her hips, and I half-expected her to stretch her limbs into crazy proportions in order to intimidate me.  I admired her power.  She could stretch her body like taffy, at least ten times its original length.  All I did was absorb heat.

            "Well, we can," I snapped.  Our decision to break away from government oversight and go freelance had hinged on accessing the trust fund my father left in my name.  It was money I'd ignored my entire adult life, until I finally found a way to put it to good use.  "What we can't afford is Ethan constantly electrocuting himself, or us burning this place down around our ears.  He's not an electrician."

            "Just a wind bag."

            Ethan grunted.  "Funny."

            Renee blew him a kiss.  "Look, Dal, bring it up with Teresa again.  If she wants to hire out, fine.  Great.  Go for it.  Just don't get your hopes up."

            "I just don't understand why she's so averse to using the money," I said.

            "It's not about the money."

            I stared.  "What do you mean, it's not about the money?"

            Renee cast her eyes at Ethan; he gazed at the floor.  No help there, so she squared her shoulders.  A spot of white paint stood out against her otherwise flawless blue skin.  They both knew Teresa "Trance" West longer than I had; they had grown up together, along with Marco "Onyx" Mendoza and Gage "Cipher" McAllister.  The five of them, elder heroes by all rights, worked together like a single entity.  As much as I tried, I never felt like one of them.  Yes, I was Metahuman just like they were, but I wasn't part of their shared history.  It made me an outsider.

            They knew what else bothered our venerable leader, and I hadn't a clue.

            "Well?" I asked.  "Throw me a bone here, guys."

            "She's being cautious, is all," Ethan said.  "Any electrician we hire would be a stranger.  This is our sanctuary, Dal, we can't let just anyone inside."

            I understood Teresa's reasons for extreme caution, having lived through the events that culminated in our separation from the MetaHuman Control branch of ATF.  Her sense of betrayal over the fail safe plan.  The literal betrayal of Angus Seward, who was once considered a valuable ally and had, in the end, tried to annihilate all Metas.  Knowledge that attack could come from any direction, as it often did when we ventured into the city.  Heroes to some, villains to others, but feared by all—this is what we had become to the people of Los Angeles.

            "I'm not suggesting," I began, picking my words carefully, "that we grab contractors off the street and give them a key to the front gate.  We check them out, they have escorts while on the property, and no access to certain rooms."  Rooms that housed our personal history and were not for public viewing.

            "I could agree to that."

            We all turned toward the door nearest us, at the top of the L.  Teresa stood in its frame, arms tight across her chest.  Her violet-streaked hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, the tips frozen with blue paint, and more blue paint decorated her cheeks, forearms, and jeans.  It created a palette contrast to the natural violet hues that framed her forehead, jaw line, and elbows, and sunk deeply into the wells of her collarbone. 

            The coloration made her look like a domestic abuse victim—a laughable thought to anyone who knew Gage McAllister.  They loved each other in a messy, passionate, eyes-wide-open way I only thought existed in the cinema.  Few people found that kind of love, and being around them made me alternate between sugar-shock and longing for it in my own life.  I had low expectations; relationships and I did not go together.

            Teresa smiled at me, brightening up the room with such a simple gesture.  She was only four years older than me, and the youngest of the others, but her leadership was unchallenged.  Power led, and she possessed great power tempered by equal amounts of humility.  Her gentle approval was worth more to me than a thousand words of encouragement. 

            "I take it you have someone in mind?" Teresa asked.

            Oops.  "I'll find someone we can trust."  The haziest bit of memory poked at my brain without coalescing into something useful.  It would come to me.

            She nodded, taking me at my word.  Her violet gaze turned past me, to Ethan.  "Let me see it," she said, walking to him.

            He held out his hand, frowning like a kid who'd had dessert taken away.  The tips of his fingers were red, his index starting to blister.  She held his hand gently, gazing at the burns with a Mother Hen quality she'd displayed more and more frequently these last few months.

            "Just don't say I told you so," Ethan said.

            She quirked an eyebrow.  "Would I say that?"

            "You're thinking it."

            "There's some burn ointment downstairs in the Infirmary." 

            "I'll patch him up," Renee said.  "Come on, Windy, I'll give you the hot pink bandages."

            Ethan blanched.  "That's supposed to be an incentive?"

            She slung her arm over his shoulders and steered him toward the door.  Their idle teasing followed them out of the room, leaving me and Teresa alone.  She gazed up at the dangling wires and blackened hole.  A shadow of fatigue stole across her face, and then disappeared behind a mask of thoughtfulness.

            "Was this Renee's brilliant idea, or Ethan's?" she asked.

            "You got me.  I just came when someone yelled for a fire extinguisher."

            Laughing, she said, "Good thing you were home, then, because I don't believe we own an actual extinguisher.  Something else to add to our growing list of needs."  Her voice dropped on the last bit, humor overtaken by frustration.  No one, least of all Teresa, believed striking out on our own would be so exhausting. 

            Give her something positive to think about, Dal.

            "The lobby is almost finished," I said.  "I have one more wall to cover and then we can lay down the new floor.  The laminate arrived at the store this morning, it just hasn't been delivered yet."

            "Good news."  Something still distracted her.  Couldn't be a fight with Gage.  They didn't know how to fight without resorting to make-up sex within ten minutes of the argument.  The upstairs walls were pretty thick, but not the doors.

            "How's your room coming along?" I asked, trying again. 

            "Almost done."  The edge in her voice softened at the topic of her shared room.  Definitely not a fight with Gage.  "I never thought I'd be the type to spend so much time picking out curtains, especially at twenty-five.  Literal curtains and metaphorical ones."

            It was a simple statement that said so much about her, probably without meaning to.  She rarely gave up details about her life during the last fifteen years she and the others had spent without powers.  Fifteen long years separated from her childhood friends, from anything remotely like her old life, forced to pretend she'd always been normal.  Had never been the daughter of two decorated heroes.

From idle conversation, I knew she'd done things she wasn't proud of in those years, even spent a little time in jail, and she hadn't found happiness until getting her powers back.  It had been a rebirth for everyone, including me.

            She had lost her powers as a child of ten, torn away by a mysterious pair of people called Wardens, and had them restored when the Wardens were murdered.  I discovered mine during a freak accident at my old apartment, two days after.  I spilled sesame oil while attempting a stir fry and caught the pan's contents on fire.  It sizzled, splattered, and ignited the sleeve of my blouse.

            I had screamed, startled less by the fire than the lack of heat on my skin.  The flames licked at the blouse and my hand.  As I watched, the fire absorbed right into my body.  It remained hot for the next hour, and then faded completely.  I'd explained it away as a panic-induced hallucination—even after news began to spread of the Meta reactivation.  I hadn't entertained the idea that I was a Meta until the day the Channel Seven broadcast station blew up, and I really came into my abilities.

            No, I couldn't compare our pain, or hope to understand her feelings of alienation and isolation.  Trying to was patronizing.

            "I haven't even thought about wallpaper," I said, "much less curtains."

            Teresa laughed, and I basked in the warmth of her smile.  "You have time to settle in, Dahlia.  With any luck, we'll be here for a very long while."  She picked at a fleck of dried paint adhered to her arm.  "So, do you know any good electricians?"

            An alarm clanged in the hallway, like an old fashioned school bell.  We turned toward the door in perfect unison.  The sound continued uninterrupted for a good fifteen seconds.  Teresa looked at me over her shoulder, eyebrows furrowed.  I stared back at her, perplexed.  I didn't recognize the sound.  I had tested the fire alarm system yesterday, and it did not sound like that.

            Something pounded the floor beneath our feet.  I jumped.  Teresa stamped her foot.  It must have been Renee banging on the ceiling, trying to get our attention.  But why?  To turn off the bell? 

            "Something tripped the security system's perimeter alarm," Teresa said, then took off running. 

            I dashed after her, through the door, around a curve in the short hallway and back down the main staircase.  She took them two at a time, moving faster than me, and disappeared.  I crossed the lobby, still running, and turned down the left corridor.  I ran past the interior courtyard exit on my right, to the first door on the left.  Our appointed War Room housed a long oak table and eight desk chairs. A digital monitor took up four feet of the opposite wall, situated between the room's two windows.  Maps and a dry-erase board decorated the wall on my right. 

            To my left, another door stood open and voices filtered out.  Research and Security.  Half the size of the previous room, it contained only two computer systems so far.  More were expected to be delivered next week.  Right now, the monitor on the right desk was for online research and connecting to our Intra-Network.  I-N was a program that Marco had written for us, after admitting his pre-repowering job was as a computer programmer (it still felt odd to think that any of us once had real jobs).  It collated and integrated all of our combined information about known Metas, unsolved crimes, and even allowed us access to certain, inaccessible government databases.

            The computer on the left desk displayed eight different camera angles of our property.  The perimeter fence had twenty-four different views and it monitored almost every single inch of the fence line.  With that much acreage, it was quite a feat.  The display monitor switched views every four seconds, recording everything into our database.  I knew the views by heart, since I'd helped Marco install all of the cameras two months ago—right before that friendship went all to hell.

            Teresa, Renee, and Ethan were hunched over the monitor.

            "Did something trip the alarm?" I asked.

            Teresa had taken the desk chair, and she punched a series of command codes into the keyboard.  A search box came up.  Moments later, the eight angles disappeared and were replaced by one large scene.  I recognized the length of fence behind the pool house.  A grove of trees created a natural curtain between our property and our rear neighbor.  Teresa pressed PLAY.

            Wind rustled the leaves of the trees.  Seconds passed and nothing happened.  Two birds, about the size of wrens, swooped down from the trees.  They chased and danced back and forth across the screen.  Then they angled sideways and flew right between the narrow iron bars of the fence.  Red letters appeared on the bottom of the screen: Perimeter Breach Detected.

            "Hell, T," Renee said.  "I thought it was some kind of emergency and it's just a goddamn bird?"

            "It's a sensitive system, Renee," Ethan said.  He tapped a few keys and new words popped up: Perimeter Sensor Eight Deactivated.  "We need to find a middle ground with the sensors so it doesn't get tripped by birds, but will still pick up on small objects being lobbed at our house."

            "Yeah, we don't want to be woken up in the middle of the night by a runaway parakeet."

            "It's fixable, okay?" Teresa said.  "There are going to be glitches, folks, we're still feeling this out.  But we responded to the alarm, which is its purpose."

            "What about the earthquake that set it off two days ago?" Renee said. 

            "The earthquake, really?" I said.  I wasn't home for the 5.2 that shook the town.  Earthquakes set off car alarms and such, so our system really wasn't a stretch.

            "We'll have false alarms, guys," Ethan said, stepping in as peacemaker.  "I'd rather have false positives, than a system unable to detect a real threat.  Am I alone?"

            "No, you're not," Teresa said.

            Renee grunted, and the others took that as her agreement.  Their scrutiny fell on me, and I nodded.

            Teresa's intense, violet-eyed gaze continued to study me, until she finally asked, "So what are your afternoon plans, Dal?"

            "Hadn't really thought much past painting the—"  Oh, wait, I had a new assignment.  "Electrician hunting, right?"

            "Bingo."

            "I'll go get on that," I said, and darted from the room. 

            As I passed I tossed a guilty look at the paint pan and roller, drying to a tacky mess by the lobby wall.  Someone would finish it later.  Half the house still needed fresh coats of paint.  Thank goodness it was June and not the middle of L.A.'s rainy season.  We had the windows wide open and box fans blowing fresh, if somewhat humid, air around to rid the place of that cloying odor of new paint.

            My room was on the second floor, like the others.  Unlike them, I'd chosen a room in the front of the house, second door on the left, opposite side of the house from the rooms of my elders.  It's funny that I still thought of them that way, even though at thirty Gage was as old as we got.  Unless you counted Simon Hewitt, a former-bad guy and current Teresa West Pet Project.  He lived and worked in New York with his son, though, and wasn't technically part of the team.

            They were all elder to my experience, I supposed, and in bloodline.  My mother hadn't been a Ranger, nor had anyone else in her family.  My father—such as he was—had no powers.  Someone in one of their family trees had to have been Meta, but I had no idea who and really didn't care enough to research it.  The direct descendants of the Ranger Corps were the five people I worked with every single day.  Stories circulated about newly powered people popping up across the country.  We'd publicly invited them to contact us.  So far, they were keeping to themselves. 

            I popped into my bedroom to change.  Its meager contents included a well-made bed, littered with overstuffed pillows, and a matching dresser.  My favorite wicker rocking chair had followed me over from my old apartment.  An oversized, peeling white monster with a flat, faded cushion, it was the only thing from my mother's house I'd kept. 

            Sentimentality wasn't my strong suit.  I had a shoe box of snapshots packed up in a carton along with the rest of my meager belongings—mostly books and a few academic award certificates.  Spiffing up my personal space was less important than getting the rest of the house in order.  No one would ever see the crappy interior of my bedroom, but the lobby and downstairs rooms presented an image to others.  It had to be a good one.

            I stripped out of my paint splattered jeans and tank top, then did a quick skin check in the closet mirror, as had become a habit.  Teresa had smudges of purple on her body, some more noticeable than others.  Renee was completely blue.  Marco had black and brown patches of velvet-soft fur all over his face, torso, and legs.  Sections of Gage's hair reflected the same silver in his flecked eyes.  Only Ethan had escaped noticeable discoloration.

            So far, I had the orange streak that no brand of hair dye managed to hide, and no other major colorations on my body.  Thank God.  Even my eyes had remained light blue.

            I slipped into a pair of clean, dark blue jeans and a white silk camisole.  A brush through my hair separated the dried-together bits.  I twisted the orange section into a rope, tucked it behind my right ear, and secured it with a barrette.  Not too bad.  Nothing like the timid journalist I'd been last year.

            I opened the door and jumped back, barely missing Ethan's fist in my nose.  His other hand sported bandages on three fingertips.

            "Hey," he said.  "Change your clothes.  We've got a job."

Official Announcement: MetaWars Continuation

I've made off-hand remarks and left hints over the last few months, but now that contracts are signed and sent to the appropriate parties, I want to make the official announcement.

Pocket Star will publish two more books in the MetaWars series in 2013.  TEMPEST (MetaWars #3) will be told from the point-of-view of Ethan "Tempest" Swift, as he deals with a decades-old vendetta against the former Bane who murdered his mother, as well as a personal secret he's been keeping from his friends and teammates.  CHIMERA (MetaWars #4) will follow, wherein a lot of different shit hits the Meta World fan.

For folks who missed it, Pocket Star is a shiny new imprint at Simon & Schuster that will specialize is Digital First books. This means that as of now, there will not be mass market paperback copies of TEMPEST or CHIMERA--just e-books.  They only way that *might* change is if sales of the series books really take off and a print run makes financial sense.

So there you have it. And don't forget to grab a copy of CHANGELING on June 26!

MetaWars Fun and a Giveaway

Every time I look at the calendar, I'm amazed to see how quickly this year is flying by.  May is almost over, and it feels like it was just March.  Which means that CHANGELING's release is right around the corner (35 days, oh my!).

Speaking of CHANGELING, it received 4 stars from Romantic Times! I admit, I was crazy nervous when I checked for this review.  CHANGELING takes our intrepid superheroes in a few unexpected directions, and when you get to the end...well, all I can do is ask that you trust me.

The review:

The second title in Meding’s MetaWars series is an admirable follow-up to its highly regarded predecessor. The series features a wholly new approach to superheroes and how they interact with our world. The author throws some fantastical sci-fi and thriller elements into the story, and the result is fast-paced and exciting with a good dose of intrigue. It’s a fun read that will have you reaching for the first book if you haven’t read it already, but it still adds new layers for those who have.

 

When empty human skins are found around Los Angeles, the police ask Dahlia “Ember” Perkins and her superhero teammates to help solve the grisly murders. The case takes a dangerous turn when a bullet meant for Dahlia hits one of her fellow MetaHumans. Then coincidences start piling up, after she gets romantically involved with an old friend, and Dahlia realizes that she has a unique connection to the killer — or killers. (POCKET, Jul., 384 pp., $7.99)

The MetaWars books were also featured in a nice little article on RT about superhero novels. With the monumental success of The Avengers (which I'm going to see again tonight), we can only hope that there is a renewed interest in this very small niche of novels.

Red Hot Books is doing an Author's After Dark Feature on my books, as well as an interview and giveaway.  There are only 13 hours left to enter, so pop on over to win any book from my back list.  You can also find links to reviews of the entire Dreg City series.

I'm going to leave you with a tiny snippet from TEMPEST (MetaWars 3). It isn't easy finding snippets on a book that's chock full of spoilers from the previous two (especially since CHANGELING isn't even out yet), but I have a few sentences that really summarize one of the themes of TEMPEST.  It's part of a longer telephone conversation between Teresa and Ethan.  Enjoy!

"Ethan, I know you," [Teresa] continued.  "You think of other people before yourself, sometimes to a fault.  And I know how the need for revenge can eat at you, but you aren't a murderer.  You wouldn't let a personal vendetta ruin what we're trying to do."

"Which is what?" I asked, because I'd be damned if I knew anymore.

"Correct the mistakes of the past whenever possible.  This is about the future of all Metas, new and old.  We can't keep killing each other if we're going to survive."

Celebrating Moms

Since my day to blog at the League of Reluctant Adults fell on Mother's Day, I thought I'd do a post around the topic of mothers. I've been lucky enough to have had a good relationship with my mother for my whole life. I haven't always lived close by, but I know I'm loved and that I can depend on her (and in case you were curious, I'm tight with my dad, too, but this is about mothers). It's funny, though, that the majority of the characters I write about either have absentee mothers, bad mothers, or dead mothers. Evangeline* Stone's mother died when Evy was a kid, and before that she was a pretty terrible mother. Wyatt's mother is dead, too. The only genuine mother/child relationship I can think of in the Dreg City books are Aurora/Ava.

(*On the other hand, we haven't had a chance to look at the relationship between Chalice Frost and her mother, which was supposed to be part of book five….)

In MetaWars, all of the main characters are orphans. Although you could argue that Dahlia Perkins had a great relationship with her mother—except her mother died a few years before….well, you'll learn all about that in CHANGELING (June 26, 2012). The Sekrit Project I've been mentioning here and there follows the same pattern of dead mothers (although for variety, there are some fantastic father/son relationships in that series). One of these days I'll write something with a healthy, solid mother/child relationship, I swear.

Since today is supposed to be about celebrating Mom, I want to list some of my favorite mothers in books, movies and television. In no particular order:

 JOYCE SUMMERS. "Buffy, the Vampire Slayer." She rocks it as a mom. Smart, funny, protective of her only child. Her death was one of the saddest moments of that entire series (admit it, you cried, too).

CAROLINE INGALLS. "Little House on the Prairie." As a little girl, I used to play Little House with my neighbor. Because I was younger, I got to be Laura a lot. I wanted to be Laura, and I wanted Ma Ingalls to make my dresses and braid my hair.
  CHARLIE MADIGAN. The "Charlie Madigan" series, by Kelly Gay. A single mom urban fantasy novel protagonist. You don't see many, and Charlie handles both her professional life and her role as a mother with a deft hand. If you haven't picked up this series, grab it now!

MRS. BRISBY. "The Secret of NIMH." This movie is part of my childhood, and I still adore it to this day. No one can touch Don Bluth's animated movies, and NIMH is my absolute favorite. Mrs. Brisby faces her fears and finds courage she never knew she had in order to save the lives of her children.

 FAITH YOKAS. "Third Watch." I adored all six seasons of this show, which few people seem to remember. Yokas was a fascinating character to watch grow. She was a patrol cop, but she was also a wife and mother, and those relationships developed over the course of the series in very complex ways.

KAREN SANDERS. The "Shifers" series by Rachel Vincent. She's the wife of the Alpha. She's Faythe's mother (really, enough said right there). She protects her family with a quiet strength, and when she's angry? Look out.

EVELYN O'CONNELL. "The Mummy Returns." She's a bookworm turned action heroine. She's also a reincarnated Egyptian princess. She trades blows and sarcasm with equal finesse. Plus she's just plain funny.

HEROINE. "Feast." Probably the most clever horror movies in recent decades, Heroine is a mama on a mission. She's not afraid to violently kill a bunch of radioactive monsters if it means getting to her daughter.
MARILLA CUTHBERT. "Anne of Green Gables/Anne of Avonlea." Do I really have to explain why Marilla is, like, the most awesome mom ever? Anyone else who adored the Anne movies as a girl will understand.

So that's my short list, and I'm certain I've forgotten some awesome mothers.

 Who are some of your favorite fictional Mom's?

Change and Stuff

I don't like change. I'm a creature of habit and I like things to be familiar. Nu-Blogger makes me a little crazy, as does Firefox 12. Plus, when things update there are inevitably bugs and other issues to be fixed. No thank you. Anywho, that baby vent about change ties into why I've been so quiet on the blog lately. My old boss at my day job transferred to another store. So I got a temporary promotion to a full-time position--so temporary that it's been going on for the last five weeks, and there is no actual end in sight. Working full-time again has, in a way, been a godsend right now, with things so uncertain in the writing side of my life. But it's also been a drain on my time and energy, so my blog has been suffering. So has my social media time. And for all of that, I apologize. The good news is that I've finished a first draft of TEMPEST (MetaWars #3). I really had fun writing this book. It's from the POV of Ethan "Tempest" Swift, and he's one of my very favorite characters from the MetaWars series. You'll learn a few new things about him in CHANGELING (June 26) that I hope pique your interest in his story. TEMPEST and Metawars #4 will both be part of the newly revamped Pocket Star imprint, which is digital first content. Once I have release information beyond "in 2013" I'll let you know. Along the lines of other new things, the "Sekrit Project" is now on submission. Keep your fingers crossed for good things. This project is a closed trilogy, and it's something I'm very excited about. Oh yeah....GO SEE THE AVENGERS!!!! It was all kinds of awesome.

Today I am blogging at Literary Escapism, talking about Authors After Dark and the things I hope to see and do in New Orleans this summer.

Fangirl Squee

I don't usually post just to link to a single review, but I'm super excited that Charles de Lint reviewed ANOTHER KIND OF DEAD in the March/April issue of FANTASY & SCIENCE FICTION MAGAZINE. He reviewed both THREE DAYS TO DEAD and AS LIE THE DEAD in past issues, and he liked this installment, too.

Thanks to Melissa and Beth for pointing me toward this review!

Update and CHANGELING Snippet

So I've been quiet lately, and I know I kind of left folks hanging a little with my last post. I want to start by saying thank you to everyone for your kind words and support of the Dreg City books. It means a lot to know there are readers out there clambering for more of Evy and her friends.

The good news is that I will, in all likelihood, self-publish the rest of the series. I can't tell you when, because I have other projects in the pipe right now, but I hope to have something new for readers, even if it's just a short story, by the end of the year. Maybe the first of 2013. I will keep y'all posted as that develops.

The Sekrit Project is also finished and in the hands of both my agent and my crit partner. I'm pretty excited about this trilogy, because it is centered around my favorite supernatural creature: shifters.

I'm also gearing up for the release of CHANGELING (MetaWars #2) on June 26, so to round out the post, I'm going to offer another snippet from the book.

A little set-up: The team has purchased an abandoned mansion in Beverly Hills and are fixing it up as their home base. Dahlia "Ember" Perkins has been saddled with the task of hiring an electrician so their home improvements don't accidentally burn the place down. She finds herself at Scott & Sons, a place now run by someone she went to high school with--and who may or may not have had a crush on her once upon a time.

#

From Chapter Four


Dirty sneakers descended from the darkness, followed by tight, ripped jeans, and a T-shirt clad torso. An unbuttoned flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up, flapped in the wind he created as he charged forward. I looked up, past a narrow jaw, and into the brightest green eyes I had ever seen on a human being (except for Marco, but his eyes weren't quite natural).

If he wasn't Noah Scott, he was definitely related. He was about my age, with spiky auburn hair and a light smattering of freckles on his sharp nose. He stood about my height, thin-waisted, muscles rippling beneath his tight T-shirt. A runner, maybe, or a swimmer. Nothing like the skinny, gangly boy I remembered from high school. That boy had enjoyed loose clothes, kept his hair shaggy and long, and he couldn't possibly have been so handsome. Even his eyes seemed a brighter green than before.

Of course, a distance of six years can change your perception of a person.

Slim eyebrows arched as he studied me back. Wide lips puckered into a silent question, and he tilted his head to one side.

"Can I help you?" he asked. His voice had a rough quality, like sandpaper.

I licked my lips, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. "Yes," I said. "I, um, need lights." I could have slapped myself. Obvious and stupid.

His smile broadened, baring bright white, but somewhat crooked teeth. Some small amount of recognition had crept into his eyes—it could have as easily been knowing me as Ember as remembering me from school. "You're in luck, because that's all we sell here," he said.

I laughed, feeling like an idiot, and walked confidently up to his counter and squared my shoulders. His eyes dropped briefly to my chest, and I had the sudden, irrational urge to flee this shop and never look back.

"What kind of lighting to do you need?" he asked.

"All kinds. We're, um, remodeling an older home and a lot of the ceiling fixtures need to be replaced. That's our biggest need right now. And installation. Ethan's not so good at it."

"Your boyfriend?"

"My what?"

"You said Ethan isn't good at installation. Is he your boyfriend?"

Laughter bubbled in my chest, but I tamped it down. Maybe-Noah was much more Ethan's type than I was. "No, he's not my boyfriend. One of my roommates. A bunch of us are fixing up the house together."

He walked around the counter and stopped an arm's length away. I liked that we were the same height; I didn't have to strain my neck to stay under his intense gaze. His eyes roamed all over. Most days, I would have walked off in a huff after being openly appraised like that. With this maybe-not-a-stranger, I rather enjoyed the attention. Even living with five other people, I was often lonely.

"Do you see anything you like?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah." His eyebrows shot up, and I realized what I just said. "I mean, I haven't really looked at your lights." Eyebrows higher. "What you have to offer, I mean." Lordy, there was nothing coming out of my mouth that didn't sound like innuendo. Teresa would kill me if I screwed this up.

"How about some track lighting?" he asked, indicating the wall behind me. "Brightens up a room pretty quick, and you can set it on a dimmer switch. How many rooms?"

"Quite a few." Good, simple answer to a simple question. I was back on track to having an intelligent conversation. "We don't need all of them done at once, but there are half a dozen rooms downstairs, and at least six upstairs."

"The house sounds huge."

"It's in Beverly Hills."

His lips parted in surprise. "Wow, that's an interesting neighborhood to pick. Few people can afford those houses."

Dollar signs danced between us, taunting. It was a social barrier that I'd never dealt with growing up—at least, not from the rich side of the line. I never wanted money from my father, and I ignored my trust fun when I turned eighteen. Mom's insurance paid most of her medical bills. Everything I had, I earned on my own. I was no different than this man in front of me, self-made and struggling to be independent. But the squint in his eyes, the harder line of his mouth, indicated he didn't know that. He just knew I had money. Money he could make.

"It's a group effort," I said. I wanted him to understand and didn't know why. "We needed a big place with good security. A bungalow in Inglewood wasn't going to do it for us."

"So you're looking for at least a dozen fixtures," he said, as though I hadn't spoken. "Plus installation and any necessary rewiring. Some of those old places can have exposed wires that cause shorts. Fires. You should definitely have a thorough inspection."

I bristled. Yeah, he was milking those dollar signs. Ass. "Do you provide those services?"

"As a matter of fact, we do. Why don't—?" Footsteps thumped down the back stairs, cutting off his train of thought. We both turned toward the sound.

A girl appeared behind the counter, maybe eighteen or twenty years old. She had long black hair and equally long legs that disappeared beneath a short, white skirt. "Hey, Noah, how come I always—?" Her almond-shaped eyes landed on me. "Oh, sorry. Didn't realize you had a customer."

Okay, so he was definitely my old schoolmate. Someone I obviously hadn't made an impression on, since he'd yet to indicate he remembered me.

Noah eyed the girl's outfit, from the pencil-heeled white sandals to the low-cut orange tank top barely reigning in her breasts. "Are you going out in that?"

"Sure." She twirled, the flared skirt riding up a little too high for decency. "Why the hell not?"

"You look like a hooker."

She belted out the perfect flirtatious giggle. "You think I'm going to go out and pick up some strange man to bring home? Be serious."

"Just be careful." He sighed, and I wondered if he'd had this conversation before.

She blew a kiss and flounced out the front door.

"Sorry about that," Noah said.

I shrugged. "What were you saying?"

"I was going to suggest I make an appointment to inspect the property. I'll be able to get a better idea of your needs, see the wiring as it is, and know where things are going to fit. Then I can order what I don't have in stock, and we can start getting you guys set up."

"Sure. What's good for you?"

"How about right now?"

An Announcement of the Worst Kind

I've spent the better part of two days trying to figure out the best way to write this post. This isn't news I imagined ever having to break to my readers, but like ripping off a Band-aid, sometimes you just have to say it.

There will be no more Dreg City books.

As much as I want to qualify that statement with "for now" or "in the near future," I don't want to impress false hope when I cannot make those guarantees. What I know is this: Bantam has opted to not buy any more Dreg City books due to the sales numbers of the first four books.

Basically, the series isn't selling. Despite being reviewed well and despite you amazing, wonderfully loyal fans, the sales numbers just aren't there. This certainly drives home the point that no matter how artistic you may think writing is, publishing is still a business.

As Michael Corleone once said, "It's not personal, Tom. It's strictly business."

Intellectually, I know it isn't personal. Emotionally, though, it feels like I've failed somehow. I was raised with a "do the job you're given and do it to the best of your ability" work ethic. I did everything I was supposed to do as an author (wrote a good book, promoted it, interacted with social media) and I fulfilled my contracts--but it wasn't enough. I don't know what I could have done differently, or if the series was just too dark, too different from the start. I just don't know. But it doesn't stop me from feeling like I failed.

Worst of all, I feel like I failed you guys--my readers. While WRONG SIDE OF DEAD does not end at a cliffhanger, there are promises of things to come and stories yet untold. I adore writing for Evy, Wyatt, Phineas, Kismet, Milo, and the others. I adore playing in Dreg City. And I adore interacting with you guys.

As I said above, I can't promise anything right now.

Do I know where Evy's story is going? Yes.

Do I know how many more books it will take? Yes.

Do I know if/when/how they'll be written/made available? No.

This is my job, so right now I have to focus on other advance-paying projects. I have something new in the works (folks who follow me on Twitter have probably seen me using the #SekritProject hashtag recently). I still have CHANGELING releasing in June, and I have two new MetaWars stories releasing digitally next year. As much as saying good-bye to Evy & Company hurts right now, hopefully it's just temporary.

I'm going to close by asking a favor of you guys: if you've read and enjoyed the Dreg City books, tell someone else. Tell a friend or a neighbor, or a fellow book blogger, or the lady on your commuter train whose nose is always in her Kindle. Post reviews on Amazon and BN.com. Post reviews on Goodreads. If your local library doesn't have it, ask them to stock it--or better, donate a copy, as many libraries work on very tight budgets.

And even if superheroes aren't your thing, give TRANCE a try. It's more urban fantasy than you might think.

Teaser Tuesday: Changeling

With CHANGELING (MetaWars #2) releasing in just under three months, I thought a snippet was in order. The scene below is taken from Chapter Two. Dahlia, Teresa, and Ethan have responded to a call from the city police regarding...well, a "dead body."

You'll see.

Enjoy!


#####

Trance approached the scene with confidence in her stride. Tempest and I flanked her, creating a perfect triangle. My palms were sweaty and not from the day's heat. I schooled my face into the perfect picture of calm as we approached. The wall of human bodies parted, and I gazed down at my first murder victim.

And almost lost my breakfast.

It wasn't a body as much as it was a body's case. Skin, hair and nails, in the perfect replica of a human being. The pink and tan body looked like an inflatable doll that had gone flat, but it wasn't plastic. The details were too perfect, from the lines around the empty eyes to the warts on the tops of the man's feet. There was no blood, no gore, no sign of the eyeballs or anything else that wasn't external.

A human slipcover.

"Oh boy," I muttered.

"You okay?" Tempest asked, a little pale himself. His good hand squeezed my shoulder.

I tore my eyes away from the graphic—yet oddly, not gory—sight. "Yeah, I think so. Wh-what could do that to a person?"

"That's why we called in you people," Detective Forney said. She wore shockingly red lipstick and matching nail polish. A scar ran the length of her left cheek, from ear to chin, thin as a pencil line, but noticeable in the bright daylight. Heavy makeup covered her face, thickest under her eyes and cross the bridge of her nose, which seemed slightly swollen.

"You people?" Trance said, shoulders tensing.

"Yes, you guys, you people," she said. "Christ, don't be so touchy. We're doing you a favor by bringing you into this case."

Trance squared off with the mouthy detective. "Funny, I assumed you brought us in because you don't have a clue what did this, or why, or how you'd fight it if you met it in a dark alley. Am I anywhere close, Detective Forney?"

Forney sneered. Detective Pascal placed a warning hand on his partner's shoulder. A good six inches taller than her, he was an intimidating presence, and she backed off. Her hand brushed mine as she swept past and stalked down the alley to the street.

"She's not very good with people," Pascal said. "That's why she works Homicide. Gets along great with dead bodies."

Tempest snickered.

Trance crouched over the skin. "I take it your Forensic team will inform us of anything they find? Any indication of how the skin was removed and why."

"Of course," Pascal said. "Forney might not like you, but this is far beyond our abilities to solve alone. Maybe if there was some sign that the skin had been cut, some evidence of a knife or scraping tool, but there isn't. Everything that was inside of the skin is just…gone."

Audio Books

I've received several email queries recently from folks asking if there will be an audio version of WRONG SIDE OF DEAD, so I thought I should do a quick post on the topic.

Tantor bought rights to do audio versions of only the first three Dreg City books, all of which are available right now. They did not buy rights to WRONG SIDE OF DEAD. I would love for fans of the audio books to have the chance to hear the fourth book, but unfortunately that's not up to me. Just like the future of the print books depends on sales, so does the future of the audio versions.

Someone asked what you could do to let Tantor know you want WSOD in audio. The best, easiest step (if you haven't already) is to purchase the audio books of the first three. If you borrowed them from the library, then write to another local library and suggest they also stock the books. Recommend them to a friend (or two or twenty). Review them online. Help get the word out so others can find them, too.

You can also drop Tantor an email and let them know directly that you're interested. Tell them you want the fourth Dreg City book in audio format! Xe Sands has already told me she'd be on board for it, if the deal ever happens and I'd love to give a talented performer more work.

Evy Needs Your Help!

So the Suvudu Cage Match has begun, and Evy's up against The Fool in round one. Someone at Suvudu seems to think that Evy will be susceptible to the charms of this fellow (or his friend, I'm not sure which). But if they think a pretty face will fool Evy into losing, then They Don't Know Evy! She is smarter than that, and she's never been one to be led around by her hormones.

Evy needs your votes! Head on over and vote for her to win!

Random Appearance: Farpoint 2012

I wanted to drop a reminder that I'll be at Farpoint this Saturday, February 18th, for most of the day. I'll be part of the Writer's Workshop at 1pm, as well as the Supernatural in Science Fiction panel at 3pm. I will most likely wander the lobby for a few hours before and after, so if you're there and see me, say hello!

If you don't see me, I am probably busy stalking Kristen Bauer, aka "True Blood's" Pam, who is a guest this weekend. *grin*

Suvudu Wants YOU!

Okay, maybe they don't want you, exactly, but they want your art.

The Suvudu Cage Match is a yearly feature in which fictional characters go head to head in a March Madness-style bracket. This year, Evangeline Stone is one of the characters competing (full list here). It's kind of exciting, even though I shudder to think who poor Evy will be pitted against. So when everything starts March 5, Evy's going to need your support!

But that's not the best part. The best part is that Suvudu is calling on SF/F artists to create artwork featuring the characters participating in the cage match. It will also give any selected arists a chance to have their work featured on Suvudu during the cage match!

If anyone out there ever had an urge to create some Evy-centric art (or art featuring any of the other characters participating), now's a great time to put pen/pencil/pastels to paper! Check out the link above for entry details.

And have fun!

Reread in 2012

I've been having a bit of a reading crisis this year. In 2011 I read a crap-ton of books--over one hundred. This year, I've read one and a half. Yeah, forty-three days into the new year and I've read one and a half books. Half might not even be accurate; I think I put it down at about a third.

I can put part of the blame on the weather. Winter depresses me, and I don't want to do anything except plop on the couch and be a potato. Cracking open a book feels like too much work; television viewing requires a lot less brain power than reading. Another part of the blame can go to the overwhelming tower that is my To Be Read pile. And it doesn't help that more great books are coming out ALL THE TIME. I can't make any real progress, and I can't seem to choose between them, so I let that intimidate me into just not reading anything.

Yes, bad Kelly.

The other day, I skimmed a review of a book I'd read and loved, and it made me want to read that book again. So I picked up my Nook with the intention of just glancing through a few good scenes, and two hours later I'd reread a good quarter of the book. Oops.

It made me think about the books I've loved and would like to read again. There's something wonderfully comforting about rereading a book--revisiting those characters, reliving their adventures and love and losses. Because of my To Be Read pile, rereads always seemed out of the question. I had too many new books to read, so I couldn't waste time reading something again.

Why, though? Why not? Books gave me a love of reading from a very early age. Certain books made me want to be a writer, so why not go back to those wonderful memories and read a few books again?

So I have decided something: I'm going to allow myself to reread some favorites this year. First I'll finish the two books I have in progress (one new read, one reread). Then I'll reread a few books I love and haven't read in a while, starting with this one:



What books have you read more than once? Are there any books you reread on a regular basis? Anything you want to reread, but don't have the time?

Release Day: Wrong Side of Dead

Guess what's out today????

Monster hunter Evangeline Stone woke up on the wrong side of dead this morning—and now there’s hell to pay.

Barely recovered from her extended torture at the hands of mad scientist Walter Thackery, Evy can use a break. What she gets instead is a war, as the battered Triads that keep Dreg City safe find themselves under attack by half-Blood vampires who have somehow retained their reason, making them twice as lethal. Worse, the Halfies are joined by a breed of were-creature long believed extinct—back and more dangerous than ever. Meanwhile, Evy’s attempts at reconciliation with the man she loves take a hit after Wyatt is viciously assaulted—an attack traced to Thackery, who has not given up his quest to exterminate all vampires . . . even if he has to destroy Dreg City to do it. With Wyatt’s time running out, another threat emerges from the shadows and a staggering betrayal shatters the fragile alliance between the Triads, vampires, and shapeshifters, turning Evy’s world upside down forever.

It's available at all major retailers in both paperback and ebook format, so go forth and enjoy Evy & Co's latest adventure!

Four Chapters, AAD and Were-Critters

With WRONG SIDE OF DEAD (Dreg City #4) releasing in just four more days, there are a few related things going on around the 'net.

As part of their 50 Page Friday feature, Suvudu has the first four chapters available to read right now! Lots of Evy and Phineas, with a side order of Wyatt, Felix, Kismet--and some new faces--all dealing with a new set of problems handed down by an old nemesis....

Over at Julie's awesome Yummy Men & Kick Ass Chicks blog, I'm the featured AAD author this week. There is an interview with some WSOD dish, as well as a giveaway. The winner can choose any of the Dreg City books as a prize! Julie also posted a fabulous review of WRONG SIDE OF DEAD. It's the kind of review an author wants to have babies with (and the Wyatt quote she picked out is one of my favorites, too).

I'm over at Tote Bags 'n' Blogs talking about shapeshifters, and I'm asking readers about their favorite were-critters.

Giveaway Winners

Thanks to everyone who entered in the giveaway for signed copies of WRONG SIDE OF DEAD. Looks like Wyatt was the overwhelming favorite, with Phin coming in a close second.

I used Random.org to select five winners.


*drum roll*


Jerrilynn Atherton, who said "Definitely Wyatt!!"

BWest, who said "I'm looking at seeing more about Wyatt."

@djlatty1, who said, "I want to see Phin come through and show Evy his wild side. ;)"

June, who said, "More about Phin."

poisnivyred, who said, "Well if I can't pick Evy, I must say Wyatt!"


Congrats to the winners! Please send your mailing address to me at mail(at)kellymeding(dot)com ASAP so I can get the prizes out. And happy reading!

Giveaway: Wrong Side of Dead

***GIVEAWAY CLOSED***

A box of author copies of WRONG SIDE OF DEAD landed yesterday, so I'm giving some away. Because let's face it, I've read it and I don't need this many. The giveaway is open until late Monday, January 16th. I'll randomly select 5 (five) winners on Tuesday.

Yes, I said five winners. Five signed copies are up for grabs, so tell your friends.



How do you enter? Leave a comment on this post telling me which Dreg City character (except for Evy, who's kind of a gimme) you're most looking forward to reading more about in WRONG SIDE OF DEAD.

Ready? Go!

RIP: One Life to Live

I've never been a dedicated soap watcher, but I've jumped into different shows from time to time, and I've posted on the subject a few times. I don't have a lot to say today, except that in the evolving landscape of daytime television, it's sad to see the soap opera format dying out. Anytime scripted drama is squeezed out in favor of talk shows, reality shows, or lifestyle shows, it makes me angry. And a little sad.

I wish the cast and crew of "One Life to Live" future successes, and I thank them for 43 years of dedicated television drama.



1968 -- 2012

Cover Art: Changeling

The cover art for CHANGELING (MetaWars #2) has started popping up across the internet, so I figured it's time to post it here. I think it's gorgeous, and a terrific companion to TRANCE's cover.

The blurb hasn't been released yet, but the character depicted on the cover isn't Teresa. For those of you who've read TRANCE, you'll know who she is (the fire gives it away), and CHANGELING is told from her POV.

What do you think?

My Top 10 Reads for 2011

A few weeks ago, I was invited to post my Top 5 reads from 2011 on the blog Nice Girls Don't Read Naughty Books. The post went live today, and you can see my picks, along with top reads from Nicole Peeler, Dakota Cassidy, Michelle Rowen, Laurie London, and several other authors.

I wanted to do a Top 10 reads of 2011 post, anyway. In 2011, I read 126 books. 43 were ebook, 83 were physical books. 8 were nonfiction. I read a bunch of different novel genres: literary, all kinds of romance, horror, urban fantasy, SF, mystery. And everything from adult to YA to middle grade. All in all, it was a very successful year of reading.

And here are my favorites:

#1 Soft Apocalypse, by Will McIntosh / Science Fiction / This is the only book I read this year that gave me actual nightmares. I thought about it for days after the final pages, because it's the kind of SF novel that really could happen--sooner, rather than later. Riveting and dramatic, it has one of the most brutal death scenes I've ever read.

#2 Sweet as Sin, by Inez Kelley / Contemporary Romance / A beautifully written love story about two damaged people who find each other. I loved the way the author used the book-within-a-book method to further illustrate the emotional battle waged by the hero, as he comes to terms with his past in order to find a happy future.

#3 Deadline, by Chris Crutcher / Contemporary YA / Even though the description of the book makes the ending a gimme, I still sobbed, because I loved the main character that much. A wonderful story about making the best of the time you have left.

#4 Precious and Fragile Things, by Megan Hart / Contemporary Fiction / I'm a huge fan of Hart's erotic contemporaries, and this book was a super departure for her. It was the first book I read in 2011, and it's still one of the best, with its nail-biting story line and a heartbreaking conclusion.

#5 Across the Universe, by Beth Revis / YA Science Fiction / Lovely writing, a fresh premise, and a tense mystery all wrapped up in a spaceship-shaped package, with a dash of teen love story. I loved everything about this book, and I can't wait for the sequel coming in 2012.

#6 Twisted, Laurie Halse Anderson / Contemporary YA / A book I couldn't put down once I started, it brilliantly shows how a single mistake can label you forever--especially in the unforgivable world of high school.

#7 Okay For Now, by Gary D Schmidt / Middle Grade / Set in the late sixties, this story of a boy, his dysfunctional family, and his discovered love of drawing is incredibly heart-wrenching and well-written. The backdrop of the Vietnam war just added to the many layers of this story.

#8 Bad Boyfriend, by KA Mitchell / m/m Contemporary Romance / The sequel to Bad Company, I fell head over heels for Eli and Quinn in this book. Both funny and heartbreaking, this showcases what I love most about Mitchell's books and realistically drawn characters.

#9 The Sex Lives of Cannibals: Adrift in the Equatorial Pacific, by J. Maarten Troost / Memoir / The author's sharp wit and sarcasm kept me glued to this story of two years spent on an equatorial atoll. From illness to insects to beer shortages, I was right there in Kiribati with him--and at the same time, extremely glad to be in the comfort of my own home.

#10 Double Blind, by Heidi Cullinan / m/m Contemporary Romance / A long, meaty love story between two very different protagonists. I loved the intimate look at Las Vegas casinos, and the intricate plot kept me on the edge of my seat.

What were some of your favorite reads this year?

Wrong Side of Dead: Snippet 2

I want to end the old year with another snippet from WRONG SIDE OF DEAD (31 days!), and it's a challenge to find good snippets that aren't also chock full of spoilers. This book addresses a lot of questions that have been raised during the previous three books (including Walter Thackery, Clan politics, various personal relationships, and what's really up with the Fey), so finding something to post is a bit of a challenge.

I chose the following section because it amuses me. You get to meet a new-ish character, were-jaguar Marcus Dane. He was first introduced in my Suvudu.com short story PRIDE BEFORE FALL, along with his sister, Astrid. Both come back as major players in WRONG SIDE OF DEAD as the Triads and Therian Clans ally themselves.

In this scene, set a couple of days after the final events in ANOTHER KIND OF DEAD, Evy and Milo are being given a tour of their new headquarters by Marcus, and they end up in the gym.

####

Milo clears his throat. "The gym's great. With everything that's been going on, I haven't had a good workout in ages."

"You don't consider Sunday to be a good workout?" I ask, caught between amusement and surprise.

He gives me a baleful look. "I was thinking more along the lines of improving mobility and fighting skills, and less battling for my life."

"Good point. The barbells don't usually fight back."

"That removes some of the fun, don't you think?" Marcus asks. One corner of his mouth quirks up, and I swear there's an amused glint in his eyes. "You spar?"

He isn't asking me, and it takes Milo a moment to realize it. "Boxing? No, not really."

I manage to keep surprise off my face. He knows how to fight as well as I do, but I don't contradict him. Not in front of a cat and two bears.

"Wrestling?" Marcus asks.

"Some."

Some? Learning basic holds, pins, and throws was part of Boot Camp training. We all took the course. I remember all the moves and can re-create them all in my mind, but even if I wasn't in such poor shape, I'd hesitate to try wrestling in this new body before it's properly trained. Especially not wrestling against a were-cat who outweighs me by a good fifty pounds.

"Great." Marcus strips out of his T-shirt without ceremony, showing off a ripped torso and tanned skin. I know my jaw dropped. "Let's go, then." He strides toward the far end of the room and the archway into the matted area. He pauses there and looks back, grinning right at Milo. "Do you have somewhere to be?"

"Uh, no?" Milo says.

I lift a shoulder in a half shrug, offering him no help. His own attempt at reverse psychology didn't get him out of it. He responds by sticking his tongue out at me, then following Marcus. I laugh. Sometimes I forget how young we both still are.

Okay, maybe Milo more than me. He's legitimately twenty years old. I was twenty-two when I died almost three months ago. The body I have now is twenty-seven—a five-year gap physically, but my emotional and mental ages are playing catch-up. Still, I manage to not flip Milo the bird as I trail behind the pair, curious about how this impromptu wrestling match will turn out.

Both men are in jeans, which aren't ideal for wrestling, but I bet that neither is going to strip down to his boxers. Or briefs. Or whatever. Milo follows Marcus's lead and takes off his own T-shirt. He's got a fairly average build, lean, with muscles hinted at beneath his tanned skin without being obvious or bulked up. An odd pattern of faint, pencil-thin scars checkerboard his back and shoulders—a peek into his past and a story I don't know.

Marcus notes them, I think, with a flare of his nostrils, then redirects his attention to the fight. Physically, Milo is no match for Marcus. Strategically…well, we're going to find out.

I lean against the wall to watch.

The first round goes as expected—the bigger, stronger Marcus has Milo on his back in less than ten seconds. They reengage. Marcus pins him again, but this time it takes longer. As Milo rolls up off the mat, he flashes me a confident grin.

We've also gained an audience. Shelby and Jackson stand by the wall opposite me, smirking. I bite my lower lip, confident the tables are about to turn.

Round three ratchets up my respect for Milo. Now that he's tested Marcus's strength and maneuvers, Milo adjusts his own movements to compensate. He skillfully rolls and ducks, easily avoiding the larger, slightly slower were-cat bearing down on him. Marcus lunges. Milo twists away. It's an amusing dance that's lasted over a minute already.

Marcus turns again, and I catch a glimpse of his face. His teeth are bared like any predator, but he's smiling. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was on the verge of laughter. Milo seems equally amused—enjoying the challenge.

"Come on, Marcus, pin the child," Shelby says.

Milo flips him off without breaking concentration, and I snort laughter. Shelby growls. Milo pulls to his right, and Marcus compensates—perhaps anticipating it as a feint. Only Milo doesn't feint. He keeps going around, twists, and ducks lower. His shoulder hits Marcus's lower abdomen full-force.

In a move as graceful as a ballet dancer's, Milo lifts Marcus up with his shoulder while anchoring him hands to ribs, and executes a perfect flip while falling backward. Both men land on their backs, Milo angled higher up so Marcus's shoulders hit the mat at the same time. It's a beautiful pin.

Milo rolls away, then comes up standing, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. I half expect him to crow a little over the victory, or at least smirk. He just watches Marcus with a comical wide-eyed innocence as the larger man stands up, making a show of dusting himself off.

Jackson and Shelby are silent.

Marcus crosses well-toned arms over his chest. "You must have made a fortune hustling pool," he says with a grin.

Milo laughs.

New Year's Resolutions: Make 'Em Right

A wise man once said "I resolve to make no resolutions." Or if he didn't say that, he should have.

With New Year's Day fast approaching here in the States, all manner of things abound on the internet. "Best of 2011" lists are being posted all over the place, from books to movies to blog posts. People are doing their Year in Review posts, and they are looking forward to 2012.

This got me thinking about New Year's Resolutions. Year after year, we say we'll change something/do better at something/be a better person. And year after year, we fall back into the same old patterns. Why? Because change is hard. Real change requires commitment and determination.

Real change means that you have to do it for yourself, not because you flip the calendar to a new year and people say you should.



I'm thinking about this for two reasons. One, someone I follow on Twitter was talking about losing weight, keeping it off, and how it has to be a lifestyle change. Two, someone I've known for over three years told me he might be trying to quit smoking again (this will be the fifth time since I've known him). In order to succeed at those two things, the person must want to do it.

Yes, I know it's not as easy as simply saying "I want this." Life isn't like that. But having a positive mindset and being determined to reach your goal for yourself definitely gets that goal closer to you.

Another reason so many resolutions fail is that while people are good at the "what?" of a resolution, they aren't very good at the "How?" part. How are you going to achieve your goal? How are you going to lose ten pounds? How are you going to quit a ten-year smoking habit? How are you going to "be a better person?"

And don't forget to consider "how long?" Give yourself a proper amount of time to achieve this goal. Don't rush change, and don't expect more from yourself than you can reasonably achieve--setting unreasonable expectations is another way to set yourself up for failure.

So be smart about your resolutions this year. And if I don't post again before then, see y'all in 2012!

Merry Winter Holiday of Your Choice!

Wishing everyone a safe and happy holiday season!

And I'm leaving you with a small slice of my favorite Christmas movie, THE REF.

AAD Featured Author

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned it, but I'll be attending Authors After Dark 2012 in New Orleans next year. And yesterday, I was a Featured Author at Wicked Little Pixie's site. Come on over, read a short interview, and leave a comment for a chance to win a signed copy of TRANCE!

Teaser Tuesday: Wrong Side of Dead Snippet

Someone on Twitter reminded me it was Teaser Tuesday, and since WRONG SIDE OF DEAD is out in just over two months, I thought I'd provide a brief snippet from that book. I redacted a tiny bit of info just to avoid big spoilers (although if you've read ANOTHER KIND OF DEAD, you probably saw the first chapter of WSOD, so it isn't really that huge of a spoiler, but still...).



The snippet is from Chapter Four, and it features a familiar thorn in Evy's side. She and several others are on their way back from a crime scene that hits particularly close to home for Evy.

Enjoy!

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On the trip back, I somehow got stuck in the rear bench seat of the SUV between the window and Paul Ryan. Phineas had shifted into osprey form—to save seating space, he said, but I was jealous of his clever way of avoiding conversation—and was perched in the small rear compartment with his pants and shoes.

I gazed out the window at the passing mountains, and then the outskirts of the city, trying to ignore Paul. We'd managed to mostly avoid each other these last few months, and for good reason. He'd been a one-week rookie in the Triads when I was first resurrected, and his twitchy trigger finger had gotten Wyatt killed. Granted, a gnome healing crystal had brought Wyatt back, but that wasn't the point. And he'd helped out at Parker's Palace and fought hard at the Boot Camp slaughter, but I still wanted to dislike Ryan on principle.

And he was still twitchy. He shifted on the crowded seat, hands tapping on his thighs, like someone in the middle of a sugar high. Or someone who wanted to say something and kept changing his mind. I resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs. Hard.

Lucky for him, I dozed off for the last half of the trip. I jerked awake as we pulled into the parking area. As soon as the side door slid open, Phineas flew out and away. I was the last one out of the SUV. The cold cement floor sent a shock through my bare feet, reminding me that I needed to find shoes and a change of clothes.

"Stone?" Paul's voice stopped me short.

I turned and shot him an impatient look.

"I'm real sorry about your friends," he said. "Not just [X], but the [Z], too."

"Um, thanks." I didn't know what else to say. We were in no danger of becoming BFFs or anything, but the sentiment was a pleasant surprise.

He nodded, and then followed the rest of his squad out of the lot.

I cast around for Phin. He'd gone off on his own, probably to calm down before going back to work. I kind of liked the idea. I could use a little relaxation, too, so I didn't take my temper out on someone who didn't deserve it. The gym was a good place to do that.

TRANCE Spoiler Thread

I've never done this before on the blog, so I thought I'd try an experiment. I'm opening up the comments section of this post to discussion of and questions about TRANCE and the MetaWars series. It'll be a SPOILER ZONE, so if you haven't read TRANCE and are spoiler-phobic, don't venture into the comments.

So, thoughts? Comments? Questions?

Bueller?

What's Your Favorite Scary Movie?

For me, Halloween was a bigger deal when I was a kid. I got to dress up, go trick-or-treating, and bring home a crap-load of candy (I lived in a trailer park and back then, about seventy percent of the residents gave out candy, so the haul was spectacular). Nowadays, it's an excuse to wear cute pumpkin earrings and then buy candy at a discount the day after.

It's also all about the scary movies.

I'm a huge fan of horror movies. Have been since I was a kid. I can't recall ever not knowing who Freddy Krueger was, or being unaware of Dracula, the Mummy, Frankenstein, and the Crypt Keeper. That love of horror tends to creep into my writing (people coming back from the dead, bloody torture, losing body parts, etc...). But good horror isn't easy. Good horror should evoke a visceral reaction from the reader/audience.

So in honor of Halloween, I wanted to share five of my favorite horror movies. I'm not sure if they're my absolute favorites (those types of lists are very difficult to come up with, because my choices tend to change by the month). But these are five current favorites.



The utter creepiness of this movie is amazing. And the fact that the monsters are not completely CGI, but rather old school latex and makeup, makes it all the more impressive. The somewhat ambiguous ending just completes the creepy factor, and it makes me a bit leery of foggy days.



One word: Pinhead.

Two words: puzzle box.

Three words: Don't open it.



As much a riff on horror movie cliches as it is a true gore-fest, this movie just rocks. It's gross, it's hilarious, and it's got characters you don't mind watching. Just don't trust anyone's Life Expectancy Rating.



The most self-aware slasher movie ever, this one turned the psycho-slasher genre on its head. It's the perfect movie for people like me, who were raised on the eighties slasher films and were also teenagers in 1994. How can you not think of it when someone asks, "What your favorite scary movie?"



While the grand dame of this series will always be the first installment, I'm putting the boxed collection on the list because it's my favorite movie series. If you can ignore parts 2 and 6, the series is pretty awesome in how it follows certain characters from film to film. And the seventh movie, A New Nightmare, totally rocked my world by having Freddy going after the actors themselves. I'm not terribly fond of last year's remake of A Nightmare on Elm Street, so let's pretend it didn't happen.


How about you? What's your favorite scary movie?

Release Day!

THE METAWARS HAVE BEGUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!



Today, I sit back and look over the journey it's been, getting this book into readers' hands. I wrote the first draft almost four years ago. I revised it quite a lot. I queried it. I revised it again. I trunked it. I signed with my agent and sold a different series. I pulled it back out and revised it again.

I sold it. Quite a different version from that first one, but the book it became is so much improved from what it once was.

And it's so pretty.

Thank you, everyone who helped bring this book to fruition. Thank you, especially, my loyal readers. This one's for you. :)

Spooky Legends and Chili

My post for Spooky Legends extravaganza is up at All Things Urban Fantasy. Teresa "Trance" West tells her rendition of the "finger in Wendy's chili" tale.

Abigail also reviewed TRANCE here.

Several other awesome advanced reviews have been popping up, and I'm tickled to see readers embracing the new series. Little birds have told that copies of TRANCE have been spotted in the wild at Barnes & Noble and Books-A-Million, so you might be able to find yours early!

Ten hours left until official release! Squee!!!!

A Gathering of Links

To celebrate the upcoming release of TRANCE, I've put together a couple of fun character interviews, in which a character from the Dreg City books chats up their counterpart in the MetaWars series.

Thursday, the first interview went up at Book Faery's Blog. In it, Evy Stone and Teresa West discuss leadership, powers, and the man in their lives.

Friday, interview two is up at Smexy Books. Wyatt Truman and Gage McAllister...get through it. What can I say? My heroes aren't very gregarious.

Saturday, the third interview is up at Kevin Hearne's blog. I love this one. Milo Gant gets moderately terrorized by the force of nature that is Renee Duvall. *grin*

Edit: added a link 10/22.

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On another note, I'm excited and humbled by the positive reviews that have been popping up for TRANCE. It won't be everyone's cuppa, but so far it's been well-received.

This morning I woke up to a fab review from Julie, at Yummy Men & Kick Ass Chicks, and it just made me grin like a loon. Julie is a big fan of the Dreg City books, and her comparison of the two was terrific. Plus, one of the giggle-worthy quotes she picked out is one of my absolute favorites, too.

Here's another, from one of my previous ARC giveaway winners!

Four more days until the MetaWars start! Eeeeee!

Five Items of an Everyday Sort 6

1. The incomparably Jaye Wells (author of the Sabine Kane novels, as well as fellow League member) has declared her own damned holiday. You can read about it, as well as get in on a massive giveaway of urban fantasy and paranormal romance novels (including a signed copy of TRANCE). Just let us know why you love urban fantasy!

2. The movie trailer for The Avengers is up online. If you haven't seen it, watch it! This movie looks like it will be amazing (and with Joss Whedon at the helm, it's almost a guarantee).

3. The cast of The Princess Bride, 25 years later. I adore this movie. I've met few people in my life who don't like it.

4. I am stupidly excited by the upcoming "The Next Iron Chef: Super Chefs" competition. Why? Have you seen the chefs competing? Anne Burrell versus Robert Irvine, again! Plus Geoffrey Zakarian! The only problem is that it's on at 9, opposite "The Walking Dead." Although TWD repeats immediately at 10, so I think it's workable. *grin*

5. With TRANCE releasing in just six days, I'll be all over the internet for the next week, doing guest posts and stuff. Stay tuned for links!