At–Katy Budget Books

       2450 Fry Road

     Houston, TX 77084

From 1-3 p.m. June 6, 2009. Michele Bardsley and I will be signing books, creating dissension in the ranks and overall working toward world domination!

If you’re in the area–I’d so love it if you came and said hello. You don’t have to buy a book. Really. I won’t grudge. LOLLOL

C’mon down if you’re in the area–I’d love to meet ya!

Dakota

…and other stuff. It’s a celebration for the release of my new series Kiss and Hell. You know, the one AztecLady liked? LOLLOL

Big stuff bein’ given away today, June, 2 2009. Go to  http://bittenbybooks.com/?p=7911 for ze deets!

Thanks, everyone!

DC

First, it’s been a while, and I apologize. My kid’s graduating on the 8th, my parents are the reincarnation of the senior WWE, and I’ve been on deadline, AND I’ve been busy with a proposal that needed writing. I’ll be back on Tuesday w/ a major contest hosted by Bitten By Books and some other stuff

However, I just had to post this

So yesterday I got word that Azteclady had reviewed Kiss and Hell–it’s due out on Tuesday, and well, I’m, as always, as nervous as an atheist at a Billy Graham telethon when I have a release. Snort.

I don’t normally post reviews because, I dunno, I just don’t. But I was prolly prouder of this one than most because I know Ms. Azteclady, and I know that while a fair reviewer, she’s also one tough broad who writes insightful, but honest reviews, and she’s not afraid to tell you if she hated it. Now this review in no way denotes other reviewers. I don’t know many of them who’re active online the way I know AztecLady. So just know I value your ops, too–and I’ve sent off many an email to a reviewer (ask errantdreams) even when they didn’t like my book because the review “showed” me something I might not have otherwise seen.

Anyway, when she said she’d reviewed Kiss and Hell I trembled, people. You all know me well enough to know that I’m fine with a crappy review–I’m fine with people’s opinions–the only thing that makes my gullet snap, crackle and pop is a spoiler without the courtesy of at least some white space. It makes me want to go to the reviewers house, find the biggest secret they have and post it on a billboard. However, I then realize spoiling my books won’t ruin my life–spewing the fact that you slept with your husband’s brother just might…

So even then, I usually get over my pissed off in like 2 minutes. Okay, three–whatever, point is, even if we’re friends, blog acquaintances, BFFS, I’m not afraid of your opinion. In fact, when I’m critiqued, I wanna be HURT. And still, anyone who writes books has to know that no matter how much you tweak, fix, plot, and re-tweak, not everyone’s gonna love you–even if, personally they dig you.

And there’s never been a time in my career where I haven’t been fully aware of that. As long as you’re not threatening my life, my kids or my parents (wait, if you threaten my parents lives you’d better come through! No. I’m totally joking–totally. Swear it), you can say whateverthehell you want about my characters, my plots, me, my hair, my ass. Well, be easy on the ass part. I’m old. Cut me some slack, ‘k? LOL 

So point is–Azteclady reviewed me. Her review meant a lot because while sure, I wanted her to like it, if she didn’t, I knew she’d still come here and post on my blog, and I hope she knew, I’d nevah grudge if she hated it. When I opened that review I saw stars, streaks of light, at least ten of my past lives flash before my eyes. But guess what? Look!!!

Here’s a snippet–I am finding it difficult to do justice to the novel in a mere review. It is funny, in very much a laugh out loud way, but it’s also heartfelt. There is a definite poignancy to the relationship that develops between Clyde and Delaney. After all, it’s not as if a person can have a decent romantic relationship with someone who is either bound to Hell or on his way to Heaven, right?

…Delaney is a wonderful character, and Clyde-geeky, insatiably curious, honorable yet devious Clyde-is her perfect match. Now all that is needed is a little divine intervention…

Kiss & Hell gets 8 out of 10 from me, and Ms Cassidy will now be on the receiving end of my nagging (Marcella! Kellen! Marcella! Kellen!  ) You can see the whole deal here–http://karenknowsbest.com/

Soooooo thank you, thank you, thank you! I so value this not because she did like it (though that felt damned good), but because I know (trust me, I’ve seen) she wouldn’t have been afraid to beat me down had she not. And I want you all to know, if she posts another review for a book of mine and she doesn’t like it, I’ll post that, too.

So muchas gracias! This book was prolly one of the more twisty, turny books I’ve written, and I had askairt that I sucked at twisty, turny But at least one person doesn’t think so

I’ll check ya all next week–don’t forget about the big contest for Kiss and Hell either–I’m giving away some serious boot-ay!

DC

go and get to know Chloe Neill–she’s giving stuff away!

An encapsulation in Dakota minor…

OMG.

I. Am. Chicken. Fried. And I’m going to tell you why. Okay, so first up, the hotel. Folks, I don’t know if you know how much walking is involved in the whole RT experience, but it can get to be a lot when you’re going from panel to panel, party to party, and yes, bar to bar in heels.

Now add on the fact that while the main convention center is in the center of the luxurious Wyndham–you’re room? Yeah, that’s in east Tampa.

I ain’t lyin’.

The hotel–All of the rooms were scattered in parts far and far–as in FAR away from the hotel. RT had arranged golf carts to bring us back and forth from our rooms in the rain forest, and I don’t want to be a whiner, but had it not been for Teri and a car, I’d still be wandering in the jungle, looking for the lobby. Naturally, because I’m just lucky like dat, my room was in the 1st set of rooms–building 1–AKA the Ukraine. My ankles were so swollen by most days end, I considered sleeping in the lobby and just being spritzed with water and slugging back a Tic-Tac before starting all over at the beginning of the next day. The rooms being so far from everything was nuts. I vote nevah, evah again. I like a good walk, but not when the sun is a reach out and touch it’s buttery hotness experience and the path from your room to the hotel can be downright ankle busting in heels.

That said, I’m going to let go of my grudge and move forward with the prayer that next year we get a big ole skyscraper of a hotel in Columbus

Hanging out with new people who’re so close to family you’d potentially loan them cash–Stacia Kane, Mario Acevedo, Kaz from England, Renee, Kaz’s friend but whose last name escapes me, Michelle Rowen. Lurve you all. Especially Mario my palmetto bug of love. Also, Yvonne and Paul, MJ’s sister and BIL. These people are so fabulous, and both funny and totally up for a good joke. Lubs you both.

The panels– A total riot, and in one (can’t remember which because I’m old and the sun dried up the sole brain cell I had left) I got to hold the most precious, fabulous long-haired Chihuahua evah. Her name is Kiwi and her mom, Debbie, works for Barnes and Noble. I got some lurvin’ in at just the right time–when I was missing my man and my puppies the most. Anyway, we laughed, we did a nice round of saying the word “fucktard” out loud as a group, we cracked wise, and in general created chaos.

The showdown–thass right. Me and Barry Eisler (hope I spelled that right). I’d heard he had fabulous hair. I’d heard it might even rival mine. I wasn’t havin’ that. So when he introduced himself in the bar, I was pretty juiced for a fight. I looked him right in his eyes and said, “So, I hear you have fabulous hair, but I suppose now that you see mine, you know that just ain’t so…” LOLLOL. he was a total peach, and completely down with a good razz.

The bookseller’s party–dudes! You are hardcore, folks. Myself, Michele Bardsley, MaryJanice, Richelle Mead, Jackie Kessler, and Jaye Wells hosted a booksellers party, and it was fantastic. MJ couldn’t join us this RT. She was suffering from exhaustion, and at the last minute had to cancel. But the rest of us, and due in part to her generosity, had the most wonderful time. We ate awesome food, chatted books, some folks drank (I know nothing unless you have a C note), laughed, and had a raffle for some T-shirts and purses. Mucho thanks to all who showed up, hung out and made it an awesome event. Oh,and I met the fabulous Angie Fox. Cute as a bug in a rug, people

The bar–people drank. Some drank A LOT. That is all

Oh, and a big shout out to Nora one of the waitresses there. She was so great to our group of loud and disorderly–even after she was stiffed by another bunch of folks for a bar bill and had to have it taken out of her paycheck.

The slumber party–I was invited to it sorta last minute because Kiwi’s mom Debbie said c’mon over. I had the most insightful, interesting conversations with booksellers, librarians, and folks who work for chains like B&N. It was so good to chat in a setting that was comfy, and gave us all the op to share our differing views on how we can all scratch each other’s backs and move toward world domination

The parties–we didn’t do many…

The hotties–no, not the cover models. I don’t even remember much about them, though I’m sure they were lovely. The three women who have the best bodies ever, and made me weep for my once tight ass and rockin’ abs. Jeanette, Rebecca, and Jeanette’s friend. Forgive me for forgetting her name, but her spankin’ bod made me forget everything but my lost youth.

The bookfair–to top all of this awesomeness off, it got better. When I arrived and saw the sea of books I had in front of me, I almost wept. All I could think was, there just aren’t that many people out of their right minds in here to buy all 80 of my books. What was the bookseller THINKING?? I poked my head between those stacks and fought not to blow chunks. Now, before I get into what happened next, I gotta tell ya–I met Aztec Lady. I’m sure lot’s of you know her–she’s here on my blog often. When I found out we’d be in te same vicinity, I threatened her with acts unbecoming of a lady if she didn’t come see me. Seriously, this woman is ADORABLE, and such a sweetie. She crocheted me a bookmark and brought it to me. It was so great to see the face I always attribute to supportive and warm when she posts here on my blog. You, Miz Thang, ROCK–and I love, love, love that I had the chance to meet ya! Also to Lyn Cash and Ashlyn Chase, too, from EC who’re awesome to talk with while we signed books!

Okay, my angst. Jesus and all 12. No way can I get rid of 80 books. I thought maybe I might hide some under the table so it just looked like I sold something… However, lemme just say this–you people, the folks who brought their books in, the people that came to see me because they’d hung with me in a panel, are so much fabulousness that when all was said and done, and I had time to come down, I went back to my room, called Rob, and sobbed. I did. That so many fans came to see me, especially under the kind of pressure there is when you’re one seat away from a NYT bestseller, was AMAZING. I’m humbled, and honored. And I mean that. No joking. No snarking.

The pictures. I have none. I suck. I was so bloated, swollen, tired, beat down, I mostly forgot to take any. But I’d almost bet my uterus and some girlie organs there’s a bunch of horrifyingly unflattering pics of me on Facebook. LOLLOL

Good to be home,

DC

Jesus and all 12. I seriously didn’t think the day would evah come when my poor kid, adopted at 6 months old in Romania, would become a naturalized citizen of the United States.

However, due to what I’m sure is the pending apocalypse and my mother who tongue lashed an aide of an aide of an aide to the president, my kid’s no longer an alien. Not immigtationally speaking, anyway.

So like I said in the last blog, we got a cryptic note from INS to be at their offices on the 15th of April and all I was supposed to do was bring my valid ID. I snorted, ’cause if you knew INS, you’d know, since this fiasco began, some rainforest somewhere is now nekid and exposed. MUCH paper has passed between myself and INS. In fact, so much, I worried I wouldn’t be able to fit it in my Barbie car (yes, my alien calls it that).

So if it hadn’t been for a phone call the day before, I’d have never known he was actually going to be sworn in. I seriously thought this was like an interview and we’d have to answer questions etc. But the nice lady informed me ’twas not the case. Travis would be sworn in.

Still, I lacked the kind of optimism one would think I’d get from the INS’s reassurance. Because this has taken three years, and like a second mortgage on my house.

This is Trav and the tree in hand… I have the other half. We had to prune it in order to carry it by hand versus wheelbarrow.

So we go in along with like 150 other people. Go through security where we’re informed you can’t bring even a cracker in. Nothing, and they have no soda machines, no water, nuthin’. I fig whatever. I don’t need beverage to clock someone in the head with my shoe. I’m much cagier when I’m on nothing but coffee and smokes.

They sit us all in a big room, then tell us row by row we have to go see the “agents” before being sworn in. I keep hearing “sworn in” and “oath”, but I’m crazy skeptical.  I’m still not a believer. Thus, I gear up for battle. That means I emptied my bladder. I’m old. I don’t want to shed the lining of my uterus when I launch myself at the INS people. So we go to a waiting room. I have every document since mankind began and then some with me. And I WILL use it as a weapon of mass destruction if I don’t get what I want.

Travis’ name is called, we go to the window, I slap down my tree, thunk down my purse, followed swiftly by my ass in the chair and just as I’m winding up–she slides Travis’ cert of naturalization through the opening in the window and says he has to sign his pic, be sworn in, then sign the cert afterward. AND she smiled when she said it.

I think Travis had to clamp my mouth shut with TWO hands, people. This was it? What–no rumble in the jungle? No headlocks? No sweaty, grunt-filled battles with the “agent” while I pry her mouth open with my fingers and shove my stiletto down her throat? I feel so deflated. Let down. Total harsh to my life buzz.

Ah, but then came the waiting. And if you know me, I suck at sitting still for long. I forgot about the 150 other people who had to be processed. So we wait in the big room. Thankfully, I had a book.

This is the waiting…

Finally, the “supervisor” comes in and it’s time to get it on, brotha’s and sistah’s! After four hours. Yes, I said four. She explains the procedure, then lists all the countries (27) and asks the people who represent them being naturalized to stand. My kid’s the only damned Romanian–ya think he’d stand up? No, he informs me he was busy thinking about where to eat after. Though on a funny note, the ladies next to me thought he was my husband… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Oh, and the guy who was directing everyone said if I wanted to be sworn in, I had to move up two rows because I didn’t look like I was under the age of 14 and kids under that age have to have their parents swear in with them…

This is the swearing in in order to obtain the golden ticket…

He takes the oath, I tear up, he gets the golden ticket (which, if lost, is FOUR HUNDRED dollars to replace, hence the tears), and we out.

And this is the happy American

I’d show you the golden ticket, but it says that if you take a pic of it you can be arrested. Prolly because there are a million people who’re in my position and would LOVE to replicate it. For which I’m not at all ashamed to say, I considered. I’m wicked ass talented with a glue gun and some ink.

So now that he’s legal, I just want to give ya’ll a heads up. It means he can finally drive. I’m sorry, Dallas residents. I mean that. Okay, I don’t mean it a lot because it means I don’t have to take him to work anymore, but I DO mean it a little. LOLLOL

Now onward ho to graduation–which will occur, because I gotta wear that cute black dress and heels somewhere. If it ain’t to his graduation, it’ll be to his backyard burial

American dreams and legal citizen wishes, all!

DC

So it’s been crazy ’round these here parts. My parents are still participating in the newest senior Olympic event–MY LUNGS ARE BIGGER THAN YOURS–where they yell as loud as they can from all parts of the house, trying to find each other, then get angry when neither can hear the other. My favorite technique to said sport is when my dad speaks reaaaalllyyy sloooow to my mother because for some absurd reason he thinks enunciating every single syllable at decibels that make dogs weep and their ears bleed is somehow going to magically make my mother hear him from down the street.

So this is what I do when they suit up, flex their mouths, and hit the slopes–

I play the drums–at all hours, because they can’t hear me anyway, and beating the drums somehow has saved me from the most heinous of crimes–patricide. Though, I’m not saying I haven’t looked on the Internetz for ways to knock someone off without leaving a trace. No, I joke. Well, okay, I peeked at 101 Ways to Murder Without A Trace, but then guilt set in and the idea that Big Sue might be my cellmate thwarted me. I just know she wouldn’t wear mascara, and we could never be friends if that were so

Anyway, now that I look at the pic, you can’t see that I’m on expert very well, but alas, my dream may soon become a reality. The one where  I flee this life of servitude and the leftovers that my parents save (one cucumber slice. I swear it was ONE, people. WHO saves ONE cucumber slice?) because the poor house is just around the corner for the big time and BOSTON I mean, I am getting pretty damned good while I hide from my people–and while I was hesitant to move up to expert on the Boston songs ’cause I felt they might not be nearly as fun, I figured it was prolly mandatory to be able to play the song as it was intended. So fine–this was my first attempt at it, and I’m feelin’ fine However, I call we ban the song Foreplay. I mean, not the act–just the song. it’s BRUTAL, people. I think I lost an ovary attempting it. It isn’t THAT great of a song, and I’m sure no one will miss it. I’m. SURE.

And in other news–RT is just around the corner, and I’m jazzed. I have lots of cute dresses and stuff, and frankly, leaving the house for five days to go to a hotel I’ll never see the outside of, but where booze abounds is quite appealing. Speaking of RT, and books and junk, I was on the Today show. Me and Danielle Steele. I ain’t lyin’. Go here to http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/26184891/vp/30133182#30133182

My cover’s over the nice lady’s shoulder who’s talking about Danielle Steele. I was stupidly giddy about it(I know, pathetic. but I’m okay with it) until Rob reminded me it wasn’t ME on the Today show–it was my book. I say, WHAT–THE–HELL–EVER! LOL

Hmmm… Oh, my son is finally going to be naturalized. God, in all his wisdom, saw that I was so close to the edge over this pickle about his naturalization that I’d lost a shoe, He granted me a pardon. Well, that and the fact that my mother got so angry that my kid couldn’t open a checking account on his own (because he’s 18 and you need a gov issued identification card), she called the White House. I’m not kidding either, and when she said she had, I rolled my eyes at her. I did it again when she told me to once more send the tree’s worth of paperwork that’s passed between myself and the government to this “nice man” in the White House. I figured she bent some poor dude’s ear and he was just playing nice cause my mom’s like a Sumo wrestler when it comes to getting her way…

I was soooooo wrong. Not five days later I got an invitation to come to show up with my poor kid and my gov issued ID. I’m telling you, I’m already cagey, folks–if this isn’t an appointment for a cert of naturalization–you have no idea what I can do with a stiletto. I’m like an Aborigine with a boomerang. No lie. Heads will roll. I’ll be on TV. Mugshots shall prevail  

So if I don’t blog before the festivities of RT–or my jail time for beating up the government guy because he’s teased me with this letter and no other info but to show up–here’s wishing you well. And if you’re at RT–pop on ovah, people–let’s hangout!

Dakota

I’ve been nominated by Bitten By Books http://bittenbybooks.com/?page_id=1040 ’cause they heart me. Well, not me, but my blog, but whatevs. Love is love, yes? And I’m honored–I’ll take love in any way, shape or man, er, form. Snort

See my pretty icon…

Now I have to nominate five other blogs for the same thing. So here we go:

http://blog.michelebardsley.net/

http://romance-the-night.com/Renee_George/?page_id=171

http://jayewells.com/

http://blog.nicolepeeler.com/

http://jaciburton.com/blog/

OUT! OMG–go buy this book! Jaye’s been getting AWESOME reviews, comparing her to some big, big names. I had the privilege of reading an ARC, and truly, it’s a MUST buy.

So congratulations, darling–here’s wishing you uber sales!

Blurb– n a world where being of mixed-blood is a major liability, Sabina Kane has the only profession fit for an outcast: assassin. But, her latest mission threatens the fragile peace between the vampire and mage races and Sabina must scramble to figure out which side she’s on. She’s never brought her work home with her—until now. 
This time, it’s personal. 

http://www.amazon.com/Red-Headed-Stepchild-Sabina-Kane-Wells/dp/0316037761/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1238489225&sr=8-1

DC

For you, darling. 

With love from my new drum set

DC