Monday, September 2, 2013

So I saw The World's End this week . . . Best. Soundtrack. Ever.  The movie's great, too - obviously, anything with Simon Pegg and Nick Frost is going to be kickass. But the music - all I can say, is that hearing the Sisters of Mercy again for the first time in possibly two decades made this soccer mom very, very happy. Remember when you wore black not for its amazing abilities to hide juice box stains, but to look cool and mysterious?  Ha ha ha ha...

On another note, here's a couple quickie reads for Labor Day weekend. The first is an excerpt from The Getaway Girls: A New Orleans Tale of Monsters, Mayhem and Moms. The second is an excerpt from the sequel, which I'm working on right now.  Enjoy!


(The Getaway Girls - From Chapter 3)
Hey, girl.” Audrey nearly jumped as a tall, skinny blonde man wearing obscenely tight jeans and a tattered Madonna t-shirt appeared out of the fog with an unlit cigarette in his hand.Audrey could see the shadowy figures of Declan and Beth just beyond the mist. They had already exited the alley into Jackson Square.
The skinny man put his hand on his chest, saying, “Oh, honey, did I scare you? Y’all, I am so sorry.  I was just lookin’ for a light.  Do y’all have one?”
Audrey took a deep breath and nodded.  “Uh, sure.”  She fumbled with her purse, looking for her lighter.  Then she remembered.  “Oh, crap, I lost my lighter.” She looked up at the man to apologize.
The tall, thin blonde man was gone. 
Carl was standing in his place.  He stared down at her with intense, black eyes and spoke in his chocolate-rich British accent. “No need to apologize.  I believe you left your lighter with me.  Now,” he said, coming in closer as Audrey tried to shrink back against the window, “where did we leave off the last time we met?”
Audrey’s breathing sped up and out of the corner of her eye she tried to see Declan, but she couldn’t see a thing in the cool, damp gloom.
“Oh, yes, I remember.” Carl’s finely chiseled face loomed over Audrey as his eyes traced the curve of her neck down the plunging line of her purple dress. His nostrils flared as though he’d just smelled freshly baked cookies.
Audrey’s throat tightened, suffocating the scream she wanted to let loose. She prayed that Carl hadn’t seen Syd, who had backed up behind the restaurant sign.  Audrey tried to feel inside her purse for something, anything to use as a weapon but her fingers were clumsy.  All she could feel was a half-empty chewing gum package. 
Carl’s lip curled as she flailed around in her purse. “I think you’re out of lighters, Audrey.”  A curious look flickered in his dark eyes.  “I see someone has cleaned up your face,” he noted. “I do hate to hit a woman, but you left me with little choice.  You really ought not to bite a man’s ear when he’s trying to kill you.”
Audrey began to sweat as Carl stared at her.  “Lift up your hair,” he ordered.
Because she didn’t know what else to do, she complied, twisting her brown hair around her finger and holding it at the crown.  “Why?” she pleaded.
Carl cocked his head. “You have a very supple neck, Audrey.” He stroked his lower lip. “I’m trying to decide from which angle to break it.”
Audrey’s chest burned, shooting acid up through her throat and she screamed, “Declan!”
Carl looked quickly over his shoulder and then turned back to Audrey and shook his finger, saying, “I don’t think so, Audrey; I’m not into threesomes.”  He inched forward and wedged his muscular thigh in between her legs. “Now shut up and fuck me.”
“No. Fuck YOU!” Syd jumped up from behind the sign holding a can of hair spray, and she pushed down the nozzle as hard as she could.  “That’s real aerosol, motherfucker, you better run!”
Carl stepped back as the fumes filled his mouth and eyes.  “You’re going to regret that,” he growled.
 “Get away from her, Carl!”  Declan snarled as he leapt in front of the women, yanked up the wooden placard and swung it at Carl’s face, keeping a healthy distance as Syd and Audrey scooted further down the alley.
“She’s mine.  This isn’t your business,”  Carl said, wiping his eyes and looking at Declan with mild annoyance. 
Declan shoved the women behind him as he swung the sign again, but Carl sneered at him and merely swatted at the makeshift weapon. “You know you can’t save her, Declan,” Carl said, walking toward him.  “Just give her to me, and I’ll leave the rest of them alone.”
 Suddenly the gleam of red and orange flames swirled through the alley, flashing through the mist.   A long, thin stick lit on both ends sailed through the air, the smell of sizzling fire sharp and close.
Audrey gasped as a young Hispanic man back-flipped in front of her, snatching the fiery stick just before it reached her face.  She looked beyond him into Jackson Square, where street performers waylaid straggling tourists on their way out of the Quarter. A nearby crowd watched the man, oohing and aahing as he tossed the stick up in the air again and caught it with a quick flick of the wrist.

The man came closer, juggling his flame near Carl, who hissed, “I’ll find you again, Audrey,” before melting away into the mist.  The man winked at Audrey, before turning his stick upside down and swallowing the flame first on one end and then the other.  The crowd cheered, he blew Audrey a kiss and then flipped back to his audience.

(Getaway Girls Sequel - as yet untitled.... Warning: this is 1st draft stuff, so yes, there will be typos)
Jean-Paul grabbed her waist and swung her so that she straddled him. She could feel one very unvampire-like part of him hard against her bikini bottom. Her very flimsy, easily ripped off bikini bottoms.  She pulled away. “What am I doing? What are you doing?”
Jean-Paul grinned. “I’m about to make love. But if you want to pretend we’re doing something else, I can role play.”
Beth opened her mouth, a retort on her lips, when a loud BOOM startled her.
Jean-Paul looked to the window and yelled, “DOWN!”  He shoved Beth off his lap, and crouched over her body.
CRASH! Bullets disintegrated the window, sending deadly splinters everywhere, missing Beth by inches as Jean-Paul rolled her to the side, pushing her out of the way. He jumped to his feet and punched keys on a small black panel mounted to the wall.
Another window shattered and Beth felt the cool slice of glass against her thigh. She began crawling toward Jean-Paul as the panel flashed a green light and opened, revealing a long, barrel-shaped weapon. Jean-Paul heaved it easily over his shoulder, putting his finger to his lips as he directed Beth to the opposite corner.  He pulled a trigger and a compact ball of flame shot through the gaping remains of the window and Beth heard a loud explosion outside.
Another bullet pierced glass, this one lodging in Jean-Paul’s bicep with a loud, wet thud. Beth gasped as Jean-Paul squinted into the scope of his weapon, aimed, and sent another fiery missile toward the unseen shooter.  And another. And another.
Finally, after lobbing what seemed like an endless barrage of explosions outside his windows, Jean-Paul backed up and reached down with one fluid movement and plucked Beth from the floor. “Come. Now.” He grabbed her hand, and pushed buttons on the panel again.  This time, instead of revealing a hidden compartment, the wall itself slid open and Jean-Paul tugged Beth inside.
The door slammed neatly shut behind them and Beth looked quickly around. They were in what appeared to be a safe room, walled in marble threaded with streaks of grey and gold. The air was cool and stale, but from somewhere within the house, Beth heard a pump kick on, and a small vent in the ceiling began dispersing an almost invisible mist.
“What is that?”Beth demanded, panicked that somehow biological weapons were now involved.
“Oh, that’s just humidity.  It gets very dry in this room if you’re in for any amount of time,” Jean-Paul answered almost absently, as he picked at the bullet in his arm.
Beth let that information sink in, picturing Audrey and Evie sitting safely with cocktails by the pool. If she just hadn’t taken up Jean-Paul on his invitation to tour the gardens, she’d be with them, enjoying a Bloody Mary that she could certainly use right now. Goddamn flowers.
Then she turned back to Jean-Paul, who frowned as he tried to pry the bullet out of his arm with a pair of tweezers. His large fingers fumbled over the slim tines, and the tweezers slipped from his grasp.
“Here,” Beth picked up the tweezers and started to hand them back to Jean-Paul. “Do you want me to try?”
Jean-Paul sighed, “Please. I can usually do this myself, but today I seem to be clumsy.”
Beth stepped closer, her head bending over his arm as she slowly lowered the tweezers to the pulpy red wound. She was conscious of the smell of him; the spiciness of his cologne and the bitter scent of his blood, as she maneuvered the delicate tongs around his flesh. But decades of eyebrow maintenance had given her an edge over Jean-Paul in the tweezing department, and eventually she wormed the bullet out.
“Thank you,” Jean-Paul murmured as he slapped a sanitized wipe over the hole in his arm, which already appeared to be healing, and then sat down on the floor, looking tired.
“Who was shooting at you?” Beth asked.
“That’s the problem I need your help with – an unfriendly neighbor, you might call him.”
“Scavenger.” The name rolled off Beth’s tongue and she shuddered.
“Yes, a scavenger – well, his human guards, probably.” Jean-Paul shook his head. “They have the worst timing.”
“But why would a scavenger’s guards try to shoot you?  They do know you’re a vampire, right?”
Jean-Paul stretched. “Yes, of course, but they weren’t trying to shoot me, Beth.”
“Then . . .” Beth found it hard to finish her question.
Jean-Paul looked up at her. “They were They were aiming for you.”
“But,” Beth paused, “you shot him first. You saved my life, kind of.”
Jean-Paul continued his even, dark stare into Beth’s eyes. “What kind of host would I be if I brought you here and left you unprotected?”
As soon as the words left his lips, what sounded like a heavy hailstorm rocked the walls. A video monitor inside the room showed a dark figure jumping through the window with an automatic weapon.
Beth began to shake.
Jean-Paul put his finger to his lips. “It’s okay,” he whispered. Then he reached into a built-in metal drawer, pulled out a long, sharp machete and turned back to Beth. “Just a minute,” he said. Pushing the keypad, he slid the safe room door open just enough to lob the knife out into the living room, aiming straight for the dark figure, who slumped to the ground.
Jean-Paul quickly slammed the door shut again. He leaned against the cool metal for a moment, and then his eyes met Beth’s again. She didn’t look away. He strode over to where she stood, stopping inches away from her. He seemed to hesitate for just a moment until Beth licked her lips. Then he kissed her again. This time, Beth didn’t pull away. She didn’t think about her husband or her friends. She didn’t think about anything. She just kissed him back and she didn’t stop.







Monday, August 5, 2013

The Getaway Girls New Orleans Top Five Best Things I've Eaten This Summer

It's hot here in Dallas and there is nothing summery left to do. Picnics in the park stopped being fun in June, unless you're into fried egg a la sidewalk or instant food poisoning. And you can forget the pool. That water's been baking for the past two months and now that it's 102, it's like a super chlorinated, non-bubbly jacuzzi. With little kids. So I'm making a list of the best things I've eaten this summer because I'm too hot to cook, and I've run out of things to daydream about to distract myself while at the gym. Food fantasies may not be the smartest option while on the treadmill, but a little Cuban food goes a long way.

I usually like to tie a Top Five list in with my book, i.e. Top Five Reasons Not to Take a Flesh-Eating Scavenger to the North Texas IrishFest - but a top five list of foods for something that eats flesh would be pretty pointless. So here's my list - feel free to comment with your fave foods of the summer...

1. Tacos y pollo at Taqueria San Julian in Naples, Florida.  Best tacos ever. I live in Texas so I probably shouldn't be saying this about a Florida taqueria - but it ain't treason if it's true. No beans and rice, or fancy add-ons, just really fresh-tasting tacos with three kinds of salsa - and the spiciest one is the kind that makes your mouth tingle but you just can't stop putting more on your taco anyway. I prefer the chicken, but they've got it all - beef, pork, chorizo, tongue. Guess which one I didn't try?

2.  Bratwurst and German potato salad from Pepper's Deli in Naples. I've always been a Johnsonville Brats kind of girl - and I thought that was the best I could do. But then I had the bratwurst from a real German deli and I'm a changed woman. Give me sausage or give me death! (But, please, also give me the fancy mustard. I forgot the name but it's ruined me for French's. Forever)

3. Dark chocolate sea salt caramels, the dark chocolate sea salt cashews and the peanut butter and chocolate ice cream from Sweet Firefly in Richardson, Texas. Here's how this works: I distract the kids with ice cream, buy the candy, stick in my purse and tell them I will share with them later.  I lie. I will hide those salty chocolate jewels in my sock drawer if I have to, but they are mine.  All mine.  As for the ice cream - it's like the Dos Equis commercial: I don't always eat ice cream, but when I do, it's peanut butter and chocolate from Sweet Firefly.

4.  Macaroni and cheese from the Holy Grail Pub in Plano, Texas.  I fix the kind of macaroni and cheese that comes in a box at least once a week, so I'm a little jaded when it comes to this dish. But when it's done right, I remember. There will always be a special place in my heart for the Friday macaroni and cheese from Cambridge House in Chicago, served with a peach on top. I don't know why - maybe the canned fruit was intended to counteract the massive fat infusion from the cheese sauce? But it worked. And it was the best.

Until I had Stanley's, also in Chicago - and maybe it was eating it on my bachelorette party weekend that made it taste so unbelievable, but I swear there was magic in that mac.  I've tried other "gourmet" versions, but nothing's ever measured up to Stanley's or Cambridge House. Jasper's in Plano, Texas is supposed to be incredible, but gouda? Girl, please.

So when the server raved about the macaroni at the Holy Grail last weekend, I thought yeah, right. But my husband ordered some and I took a bite. Lots of cheese, with a snappy bite - none of this smoked Dutch silliness, just really good, sharp flavors. And gooey.

5.  Roger sandwich and black beans and rice from Fernandez the Bull Cuban restaurant in Naples. If my last meal was Cuban food, I'd die happy. The Roger sandwich -  chorizo, cheese, these weird little potato pieces, and hot sauce - all on fresh Cuban bread, was the Best Thing I Have Eaten All Summer. Possibly all year. Garlicky chorizo, vinegary hot sauce...it was divine.  And could someone please tell me the secret to making black beans like that?  It does not matter how many recipes I try, mine will never even think about tasting that good. Also, the sangria was fabulous. And the chocolate cake. And the Cuban sandwich. And probably everything else, we just didn't get through enough of the menu. We didn't have time. Maybe next year...


So . . . what's the best thing you've eaten this summer?

Friday, July 26, 2013

Working on the sequel to The Getaway Girls: A New Orleans Tale of Monsters. Mayhem and Moms. Unfortunately, right about now it should be titled, The Getaway Novel: A Book That Can't Make Up Its Mind Whether To Take place in Jamaica or Dallas.  Books are like children sometimes - very stubborn and one day they seem glorious and you're in love . . . and the next you're wondering what the hell to do with them for the next hour.

So, here's my list of pros and cons - I'm taking suggestions, so if you have a comment, feel free to leave:

Pros for having book take place in Jamaica:

1. The book ends with a hint that the women will reunite in Jamaica
2.  The lush tropical setting and relaxed ambience . . . or as the Getaway Girls would put it: beaches, boys, and booze
3.  Ian Fleming wrote James Bond books in Jamaica - how can I go wrong?

Cons:
1. Only one, but it's a biggie. I've never been there.  Was supposed to go there on a tenth anniversary trip a few weeks ago, but those plans had to be canceled for multiple reasons.  Filing a passport application with my destination listed as Jamaica was as close as I got. I have Red Stripe beer in my fridge right now, does that count?

Pros for having book take place in Dallas:

1. I live here, I could describe this place blindfolded. Except that would be pretty dull, so I won't. (It was hot. Real hot. It smelled hot.  It felt hot).
2. The lush (mosquito-plagued) 102 degree scene outside my window right now would make an excellent place for mayhem and murder. Not that I'm planning anything, just pointing out the obvious.
3. Did I mention the heat? Seriously, if you were a flesh-eating scavenger, wouldn't you want to romp through the woods, taking out sweaty joggers and heat-crazed soccer moms?  Again, perhaps that's just me.

Cons:
1. It's not Jamaica. Sniff.

You see my dilemma.  Of course, the most obvious choice of venue would have been New Orleans again, but I'm saving that for Book 3. (And of course, I'll need another NOLA visit to refresh my memory, won't I?)

Happy Friday - and remember, nothing says TGIF like a book about flesh-eating scavengers, kickass moms, some snippy vampires and a cocky Irishman.  Well, except maybe that Loverboy song about working for the weekend, but that's not gonna last you the weekend, is it?  Get yourself a copy of The Getaway Girls: A New Orleans Tale of Monsters, Mayhem and Moms  and a bottle of cheap vino - voila, instant Friday fix. You won't be sorry, I promise!

Sunday, July 7, 2013

Top Five Reasons Not to Take a Scavenger to 4th of July

So it's a little late, but after spending a week or so on vacation, I thought of...
Top Five Reasons Not to Take a Scavenger to See 4th of July Fireworks

1.  Um, there's fire? And if you've read my book, you already know they loathe fire.  And you know what's worse than random fire shooting into the air? A bloodthirsty maniac with a healthy fire phobia.  Either he'll eat everything in sight or cling to you like a kid to his blankie. Either way your night is screwed.

2. Port o'potties = easy pickings for a flesh-eater.  And really, aren't portable toilets bad enough without worrying that your date for the night is chomping on anyone inside?  Yuck. Plus, afterwards you know they'll just ask you for hand sanitizer.

3. Sand in your shoes means it's way harder to run for your life - and really, having to race from a flesh-eater is bad enough, without picking mosquito bites and bits of shell from your toes.  Is it too much to ask for a flat surface?

4. A crowded beach full of folks is simply too much temptation for anyone with a tendency for homicide, and your flesh-eating pal is no exception.  Do you really think Carl would wait for the grand finale to wipe out half the shore? Talk about a holiday buzz-kill.

5.  Scavengers are notorious for many things.  Knowing the words to the national anthem is not one of them. They cannot carry a tune to save their lives - or yours - or anyone else's. Frankly, they're tone-deaf and it's just plain painful. As is having your throat ripped out.  'Nuff said.

Saturday, July 6, 2013

Florida

So - on vacation, suffering sunburn and drinking wine and cooking. The upside? After you go to Florida and see that everyone and their grandmother wears bikinis, you are suddenly no longer so self-conscious about wearing one yourself. Despite the "yeah, I had 2 kids" belly.  Which I am trying to tan in the hopes it makes everything look smaller.

Saw a fantastic movie, which I have to recommend - The Heat.  Why don't they make more female-driven buddy cop- movies?  Melissa McCarthy kills, as does Sandra Bullock. Also, that hot Hispanic dude who was in Weeds. I think.  Only thing that would make this movie better? Um. Dwayne Johnson or Channing Tatum. Just sayin'. But seriously, the movie rocked.  And I say this after going to a new and uber-overpriced theater in Naples where they obscenely overcharged for the privilege of sitting in a theater where I could order cocktails.  Which I didn't because - see price o' movie tickets.

But you know what I watched on Netflix from my condo this afternoon? Double Jeopardy. New Orleans. No matter where I am on vacation, that magical city remains magic.  Laissez le bon temp roulez!

Monday, June 10, 2013

The Getaway Girls is finally in hard copy!  Well, technically it's a quality paperback, but if it hit you it would feel hard.  Anyway, it means you don't have to have a Kindle to read - so order one today, pack it in your beach bag and sip on something cool while you read about flesh-eating scavengers this summer.  Because nothing says fun like monsters and mayhem.  And Moms.  Who kick ass.

Click here to check it out!
http://www.amazon.com/The-Getaway-Girls-Orleans-Monsters/dp/1484149483/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1358997424&sr=8-1

Monday, May 6, 2013


Top Five Reasons The Getaway Girls: A New Orleans Tale of Monsters, Mayhem and Moms makes the perfect Mother’s Day present

1. It’s got Mom in the title, so she can tell you care. Sure, you could have gone with poetry for moms or inspirational verses for moms, but doesn’t she already have enough of that shit? Wouldn’t she prefer an actual novel that gets her away from her life for a minute, instead of a bunch of phrases about how selfless and wonderful she is for washing the dishes and cleaning up everyone else’s crap?  

2. It’s got hot guys. Maybe you don’t think moms care about hot guys anymore.  And maybe you think the tooth fairy still owes you for that root canal. News flash: moms aren’t dead. Or nuns. So yeah, they like hot dudes as much as anybody and there’s plenty of man candy in my book. Sure, most of the guys are killers, but here’s the upside: when a flesh-eating scavenger’s done with you, you don’t have to pick his dirty socks off the floor. Because you’re dead. Glass half full, kids.

3. It’s cheap. I mean, what else can you get her for $4.99?  (Please don’t say wine). Buy her my book, a $10 dollar bouquet from the grocery store, her beverage of choice and a hunk of dark chocolate and – bingo – instant awesome!  Not that I’m advocating pinching pennies when it comes to moms, but if you were just gonna order some flowers from FTD and ugly earrings, I can think of better ways to spend your money.  Order my book and you’ll still have cash leftover – which will come in handy in a few weeks when the hard copy of The Getaway Girls comes out and you can buy her that, too. Win-win! 

4. It’s about women on a girl’s getaway trip – and let’s face it: this book might the closest she’s coming to a weekend away.  Now, I’m not gonna lie – a bachelorette party in Vegas it ain’t. These ladies deal with some bad shit. But they have fun and they kick ass. Which is way more fun than kicking dirty soccer cleats out of the way for the @#$% time because nobody else ever puts anything away.  

5. For once in her life, could your Mom get to read a book where the main characters are actually her age instead of teenagers? Don’t get me wrong – young adult fiction’s fine, but sometimes you gotta wonder – are leggy young girls the only ones who get to have fun around here? Hells no! This Mother’s Day, buy her a book where the hot young girls are hot women.  Like her.

Happy Mother's Day!  Check out The Getaway Girls: A New Orleans Tale of Monsters, Mayhem and Moms on Amazon.com - currently available as a Kindle e-book, hard copy coming soon!


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