It's FREE! FREEEEEEEE!

'Scuse Me While I Kill This Guy is FREE at amazon.com as an ebook for a limited time!  Following in the footsteps of the illustrious Jana DeLeon, Christie Craig and Gemma Halliday - my book (and I believe one of theirs still) is free! 

That, and because I spent last night at the world's longest middle school band/orchestra/jazz band concert is why this is a short blog today.  Hmmm....wouldn't ANY middle school concert qualify as the "world's longest?"

Anyway, because this is short, I'm offering a contest!  Comment here to say you helped facebook or tweet my freebie and TWO commenters (is that a word?) will receive a signed, personalized (naturally) copy of my latest trade paperback - The Adulterer's Unofficial Guide to Family Vacations!  Seriously, I'll write anything you want inside.

I'll let you know how all this free stuff works out. 

Until then...
The Assassin

Who Am I? Who Are You?

It happened almost ten years ago.  I woke up from a dead sleep.  And for about five seconds, five very long terrifying seconds, I had amnesia.  I didn’t have a clue who I was or where I was.  And I sure as heck didn’t have a clue who the woman was that was in bed with me.   

 I remember with clarity those horrifying few seconds—panic swelling up inside me, staring at this strange woman, her red hair sticking out in different directions, and screaming at the top of my lungs, “Who are you?”

She looked as frightened as I felt, but she forced a calm in her voice when she answered, “I’m your mama.”

It didn’t take a second after she said that for it all come back.  I was Christie Craig and Mom and I had gone on a mother/daughter trip and we were sleeping in a hotel room.     

I remember all I said was, “Oh.”  And I rolled over and went back to sleep.  Or at least I tried. 

Mama started laughing.   “Do I look that bad without my makeup?” she asked.

Then, I started laughing.  I don’t think we slept very much after that.

As funny as it turned out to be—yes, Mom still kids me about it—those few terrifying seconds of feeling nothing but a vast emptiness has stuck with me forever.  And that question, not the one I asked my mom, but the one I asked myself, “who am I,” has not only danced around my mind all this time, but it’s inspired several stories.

 August 10th, my third book, Taken at Dusk, in my young adult paranormal romance series, Shadow Falls, was released.  The underline theme in that book is one of an identity crisis.  At age sixteen, Kylie Galen, is trying to figure out who she is, only to realize she doesn’t know what she is.  Learning she isn’t all human is quite a shock to her—especially since up until she was sent to Shadow Falls Camp, she didn’t know non-humans existed. 

Kylie’s story is a young girl’s journey of self-discovery into friendship, and into young love.  And like me that night so long ago, she’s also trying to figure out who the heck her mom is.  

In my book, Blame it on Texas, the second book in my Hotter in Texas series, that will be out August, I again used the Identity crisis theme.  Imagine seeing a childhood picture of yourself splashed across the TV screen on an unsolved mystery show claiming you were kidnapped from some highfalutin Texas millionaire family.  Imagine learning that your corpse was supposedly discovered shortly after you were kidnapped.  Imagine it, when all your life you’ve had some strange memories that didn’t make sense.   And again, like that night ten years ago, my heroine, Zoe Adams not only is trying to find out who she is, but who the woman is that pretended to be her mother all those years. 

I think the question, “Who am I?”  is one we all ask ourselves every now and then.  Sometimes even when we’re awake.  A couple of years ago, I decided to do what any intelligent person would do who had a question scratching across the blackboard of her mind.  I went to Google and I Googled myself.  

I learned: 

I’ve been arrested.

I died.

I’m a politician.

I’m a porn star.

I’ve ran marathons.

And with a slight variation of my name, I’m a man who recently stalked Sarah Palin. 

Let me tell you, there are a few things there, I never thought I’d do.  Seriously, running marathons is not my thing.

Okay, so Googling isn’t the best way to answer the “Who am I?” question—but hey, it was a lot of fun. 

Maybe who I am and who we all are is connected to who and what I love.  I suppose the fact that I love wine, chocolate, and writing wacky stories makes me a bit of a wine-loving whacky chocoholic writer.  But that isn’t really who I am.

I’m a mother of two exceptional human beings who love life and laughter.  I’m a new grandma to a little girl whose sense of awe is inspiring.  I’m a wife to a man whose crazy antics brings me joy.  Even when those antics start fires.  A man whose support includes doing laundry and copy edits. I’m a daughter to a mother who when screamed at in middle of the night, finds humor in the moment and will never let me forget the embarrassment.

So, now that I told you about who I am, let me ask:  who are you?  If you would like a good laugh, go Google yourself. 

To one person leaving a post, telling me who you are, I’ll give away a $10 Amazon card.  So make sure you leave a comment.

CC 

BACK IN THE DAY . . . by Diane Kelly

Okay, I admit I’m not a technology whiz. Not an idiot, but not a whiz. I’ll never be an “early adopter.” Instead, I’m one of those people who waits until a high-tech product is on its third or fourth generation and the price has come down significantly before buying some new gadget. I don’t fear learning something new, I just find it annoying to have to spend time mastering yet another new system when I just got the hang of the earlier way of doing things. I often joke that I was born in the wrong place and time and would have been very happy living as a cavewoman with no technology.

There would be lots of benefits of being a cavewoman. For one, we wouldn’t have to shave our legs or armpits. In fact, we’d need the hair to keep us warm. Secondly, no vacuuming. What would be the point of vacuuming a dirt floor?  Ditto for dusting. Since we’d only have one or two animal skins to wear, laundry would be minimal. And we wouldn’t be expected to fix gourmet meals for dinner. Heck, our families would probably be happy to get some type of soup made from tree bark and roots. My only concern about being a cavewoman is that I wouldn’t get to be a writer. I suppose I could tell my stories another way, through cave drawings in a sort of storyboard format or perhaps tell them aloud through a series of grunts and snorts and pantomime. I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable acting out the romantic scenes, though. That could be a little awkward. :  )

If you could choose to be born in a different time and/or place, when and where would it be and why? Would you rather go back to the past, or venture into the future?  How would living in a different time and place affect who you are and what you do with your life?

Guest Author Mina Khan

Sometimes life has a tendency to spill into my writing.

My recent release, A Tale of Two Djinns is a sexy paranormal Romeo & Juliet story with genies, feminists, kickass action& adult fun. It started out as a novella with a simple premise – a one-night stand with complications and a HEA ending. Then things got complicated.

While I was working on the story, I went through a hard, hard time. My dad died. The writing stalled. I panicked because whenever I face a difficult situation, I write my way to a solution.

When I managed to start writing again, the story twisted and changed. I poured in everything I had ever wanted to share with my father. Without mincing words, without saving anything for later. And that was hard because I had to be honest with myself. It was like ripping myself open and holding my exposed heart in my hands.

My computer is right next to a large window and I found solace in the changing world outside. Spring is my favorite season because you can see Mother Nature at work. Living in West Texas, I find the transformation amazing – naked, leafless trees preen in bright new foliage, the ground covered in stubbles of brown grass sports a soft, green carpet, and the dusty wind-blown landscape now boasts wildflowers of many colors and styles. The season is an important bridge between the chilly emptiness of winter and the punishing heat of summer...a chance for the soul to breathe a sigh of relief and replenish itself. It offers hope.

Genre guidelines and word count went by the wayside. The hero and heroine don’t have a “Cute Meet” (they meet in the middle of a battle instead). The story is now about life and death, expectations and duties placed on an individual, the role of women in society, hope and renewal, and, of course, true love…the kind my parents had.

Once finished, I decided to self-publish A Tale of Two Djinns and donate 50% of the proceeds from the sales to UNICEF’s Schools for Asia initiative to honor my parents. If you’d like to know more about why this cause is close to my heart, please check out my Karma blog post.

Paying it forward is much larger than one person. In fact, the more people who join the effort, the greater the good. So thank you Gemma for inviting me to Killer Fiction (a blog I have loved forever as a reader) and letting me share my story.

Now here’s my question for anyone who’s reading: Where and how do you find your solace and your solution?

A TALE OF TWO DJINNS BLURB:

Akshay, warrior prince of the earth djinns, earns the title of Crown Prince at a high cost when he loses his best friend in a battle against ancient enemies, the water djinns. Heartsick, he escapes to Earth to mourn.

Nothing gets the biological clock ticking (and elders lecturing) like almost dying in battle, so Maya, princess of the water djinns, travels to Earth for some no-strings-attached sex to fulfill her duty and produce an heir. But the beautiful and tough warrior gets more than she bargained for when she meets Shay.

Their not-so-simple one-night stand is interrupted by assassins and the world, as they know it, is changed forever. As Maya and Shay pull together to survive, both are determined to have their happily-ever-after and bring peace to their worlds — warring families, shadow assassins, and nosy busybodies be damned.

Available at Amazon,B&N,Smashwords & Kobo.

Author Bio:

Mina Khan is a Texas-based writer and food enthusiast. She daydreams of hunky paranormal heroes, magic, mayhem and mischief and writes them down as stories. Between stories, she teaches culinary classes and writes for her local newspaper. Other than that, she's raising a family of two children, two cats, two dogs and a husband.

She grew up in Bangladesh on stories of djinns, ghosts and monsters. These childhood fancies now color her fiction. Her debut novella, THE DJINN’S DILEMMA was published November 2011. A second novella, A TALE OF TWO DJINNS, came out March 2012.

You can find her at:

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/Mina.Khan.Author

Goodreads:http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5234352.Mina_Khan

Blog:http://minakhan.blogspot.com/

Twitter: http://twitter.com/SpiceBites

P.S. Gemma here... doesn't that book sound fab?!  I love the title, too.  While you're heading over to Amazon.com to pick up your copy, check out a FREE book by a friend of mine and a fabulous author, Brenda Novak.  Her regency novel Of Noble Birth is now totally FREE for a limited time.  Some great weekend reading!

Oh Happy Day!

 We're celebrating in the Bullet Hole Bacus household. Katie, the oldest (by a whopping fifty seconds) of the triplets, graduated from college this past weekend with a Bachelor's Degree in Biology. Katie is my hero. Her collegiate years were no walk in the park and to graduate on time with a degree as demanding as biology is a major accomplishment. It's a gross understatement for me to say I'm proud, but I'll say it anyway:  Katie, you've done me proud! Congratulations on your outstanding accomplishment!

One down. Two to go.

Any grad celebrations you want to shout about? Weigh in and we'll celebrate together!

~Kat

Kitchen table optional

It's carpet cleaning day here at Chez Fox and as I sit here in the kitchen, surrounded by furniture and plants, lamps and decorative doo-dads, I can't help but wonder - where did I get all this stuff?

Yes, it's been a few (ahem) decades since I graduated college and went home with a mini-fridge and a duffel bag filled with clothes and picture frames, but to rise to this level of domestic tackle - it's almost like I tried. But I didn't. No, I remember moving into that first post-college apartment and having to invent furniture. You know, the box that works as an end table. An old door for a desk. And who really needed a kitchen table when the Lean Cuisine plastic plate fit perfectly onto the back of a Cosmo magazine? Lap food! There was no prep, no clean up and no real furniture required.

Hmm...maybe I do miss those days - at least the no cooking part.

Now, I'm sitting next to a glass hurricane bowl filled with fake cherries, resting on an antique end table that probably cost more than my first couch. In fact, I know it did. My first couch was $100 and it came from a re-possessed furniture store. It was awesome. We could buy other people's re-possessed rentals for a fraction of the cost! My roommate and I furnished our entire apartment that way. The kicker was, nobody could tell unless we told them. Of course, we told everyone. We were so proud.

And still, when I moved to my own place a few years later, all it took was my brother's truck and a few guy friends willing to work for pizza and beer. But then, I don't know how it happened. But I got married and started a family and now I have...stuff.

Maybe it is a sign of being more mature. Maybe I'll go through these things with more of an eye before putting them back, just to make sure I need each of them. After all, there's more to life that stuff.

Switching Gears

By Robin 'Red Hot' Kaye

After finishing my first book in my Bad Boys of Red Hook series, I had to get my head back into my Domestic Gods—men who cook, clean, and know how to take care of their women. It’s been a difficult transition from Red Hook in Brooklyn, to the Sawtooth National Recreation Area in the mountains of Idaho, to get out of my bad boys heads and into Trapper Kincaid, irreverent judge, outdoorsman, and all around great guy.

 I was lucky enough to marry my very own Domestic God, so over the last few days, I had to remind myself of all the ways my Domestic God makes almost everything in life more bearable—the ones I can write about, anyway.

 ➢ My Domestic God wakes me up every morning with a smile and a cup of coffee. I choose to believe he does this because I’m worth it. He tells me he does it because he loves me—and because of that pesky safety issue. I’m downright scary until after I’ve had my coffee. The man has learned the importance of buying great coffee and has extraordinary coffee-making ability. It’s a gift.

 ➢ Laundry and cleaning: Before I began writing seriously, my Domestic God did laundry only when he was in fear of having to wear his “emergency spare” pair of underwear—the dreaded Christmas Tigger boxers which, in his estimation, were not only embarrassing, but very uncomfortable. But I digress. In case you are unaware, cleaning and laundry are my nemesis. As a stay-at-home mom, I did my fair share of both. Okay, I’ll admit, I did as little of my fair share as possible. Still, I did more cleaning and laundry than anyone should be subject to in a lifetime.

 When I began working toward publication, my Domestic God sat me down and told me he’d been thinking. He’d decided that writing and taking care of the kids were two full-time jobs. Since he only had one job, it was only fair that he take over the cleaning and laundry. After he revived me from my dead faint, he got very lucky.

 ➢ Childcare: It’s understood that Domestic Gods either take over childcare responsibilities when they come home from work or they cook dinner. My DG, while sufficient in the kitchen, is not the cook that I am. He always took over the changing of diapers, bathing of kids, and telling of bedtime stories while I cooked dinner. He regarded it as his quality time with the kids. I regarded it as my quality time without them. Until the kids were old enough to clean up after dinner, DG usually did the dishes, too, God love him.

 ➢ My Domestic God is willing to be brave and inconvenienced. He and my son—DG in Training—are called upon to kill bugs and pick up dead critters the cat drags in—even if it means driving home from work to do so. My DG doesn’t understand why I can play with octopi and snakes, deal with any amount of blood or medical procedures, not be bothered by live critters, but totally freak when I come in contact with a dead mouse or squirrel, or worse, a not-quite-dead mouse, squirrel, rabbit, or possum. My Domestic God knows not to tease me about my ick factor tolerance, and appreciates the opportunity to show his true heroic qualities. My DG in training has yet to learn either of those finer points.

 ➢ I believe Domestic Gods must be handy around the house and with cars or be willing to pay those who are. It would behoove said DG to make sure whomever he hired be easy on the eyes. I do so love a man in a tool-belt, but then, my DG has his own tool-belt and can fix pretty much anything. He’s also easy on the eyes, although these eyes wouldn’t mind some variety in dreamy tool-belt-wearing men. Unfortunately, I’ll probably never get to drool over another, but then I don’t have to deal with the guys who aren’t so dreamy and have a penchant for showing off butt cleavage, either.


Trapper Kincaid is a Domestic God Gone Wild, so he can do all of the above, indoors or out. He can cook a five-course meal in a kitchen or over a campfire, excels in the bedroom, tent... okay, he excels pretty much everywhere after the first of May anyway, loves to clean--I know, he's a little sick, and has a string of 72-hour affairs. Now all I have to do is figure out how to get he and Bianca together for more than 72-hours...

Thanks for allowing me to do this little exercise to get my head back into my Domestic Gods! So, if you had your very own Domestic God, what would you want him to do for you? I can't wait to hear your answers, but, um, please remember this is a PG 13 rated blog...