Tina let me steal her day over at Books, Boys, Buzz... today to do a follow-up on last week's Oscars post. Click on over to find out if my predictions were right and my list of favorite moments of the night.
And, for your viewing pleasure bonus, the brilliant Oscars auto-tune musical montage featuring Harry Potter, Eclipse, and the Social Network.
Hugs,
TLC
Menu
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Eye Candy eBook Available Now
Anyway, the ebook version of Eye Candy is available through these retailers:
Kindle
Nook
Smashwords
Still waiting on the Smashwords Premium approval that will get it up on iBookstore and Kobo and stuff, but these are the biggies. And if you're a book blogger who would like a code for a free review copy from Smashwords, just email me.
Hugs,
TLC
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Project 365: Days 31-45
Third installment of my picture-a-day project.
And links to full-size images...
Hugs,
TLC
And links to full-size images...
- Day 31: Working Green
- Day 32: Winter Window
- Day 33: Snowscape Road
- Day 34: Snow Pit
- Day 35: Picture Frame Daisy
- Day 36: Maple Taffy
- Day 37: A Little Doggie Reading
- Day 39: On Golden Wings
- Day 38 (makeup): Froggy Doorbell
- Day 40: Sun Spot Bushes
- Day 41: Dad at Rococco
- Day 42: Sonic Post
- Day 43: Post-Its Rainbow
- Day 44: Curly Red Ribbon
- Day 45: Daisy in Ribbons
Hugs,
TLC
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Fins Are Forever ARC Contest
Advance copies of Fins Are Forever (the sequel to last summer's Forgive My Fins) are few and far between. Your chances to win one are dwindling. Besides the Goodreads giveaway going on through April 18, you have one last chance to get one from me...
Entering is easy. If you already follow my blog, then you don't have to do anything. If you don't, then it's time to click that little Follow button in the Followers widget on the right side over there. (Or you can follow through Networked Blogs, too.) On April 18th I will select one lucky follower to win my very last ARC of Fins Are Forever.
So what are you waiting for? Follow me already.
Hugs,
TLC
Entering is easy. If you already follow my blog, then you don't have to do anything. If you don't, then it's time to click that little Follow button in the Followers widget on the right side over there. (Or you can follow through Networked Blogs, too.) On April 18th I will select one lucky follower to win my very last ARC of Fins Are Forever.
So what are you waiting for? Follow me already.
Hugs,
TLC
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Buzzing About the Oscars
I'm a little late on my post at Books, Boys, Buzz... today, but I made a few (unsurprising) predictions for Sunday's Oscar wins. Click on over and see if you agree.
Hugs,
TLC
Hugs,
TLC
Friday, February 18, 2011
Eye Candy: Coming Soon To An eReader Near You
Putting Eye Candy (the second novel I ever finished) out for the world to see was a scary thing. I didn't realize how nervewracking it would be to get comments on my writing immediately! But what I also didn't realize was how much I'd missed Lydia and her kooky gang and how much I had looked forward to sharing her with the world.
Well, guess what? She's about to get out to see even more of the world!
Serializing Eye Candy on my blog was only the beginning. I'mterrified thrilled to announce that I'm making Eye Candy available as a $1.99 ebook. I've already started the process at Amazon (but it will take a couple days to get approved and publicly available) and then I'll add it to Smashwords as soon as I figure out their formatting.
As soon as it's available to download I'll post the links. For now weigh in on the cover. Does it suit Lydia and the book?
Hugs,
TLC
ETA: The ebook is now available from Smashwords and Amazon.
Well, guess what? She's about to get out to see even more of the world!
Serializing Eye Candy on my blog was only the beginning. I'm
As soon as it's available to download I'll post the links. For now weigh in on the cover. Does it suit Lydia and the book?
Hugs,
TLC
ETA: The ebook is now available from Smashwords and Amazon.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Let's Talk Cover
If you didn't notice on Tuesday (though you really should have noticed since it posted on like 100 blogs) the cover for Sweet Venom has finally been revealed! For you cave-dwellers who missed it, here it is:
Isn't it gorgeous? I so love everything about this, from the spiky metallic text to the snaky curls of her hair to the soft glow that kind of softens everything and makes it kind of eerie at the same time.
Fun fact, the shy girl on the cover is main character Grace Whitfield. Of the three girls, Grace is the sweetest and the shyest and the least likely to hunt down a deadly mythological monster and fight it. She a vegetarian, environmentally conscious computer geek.
Sweet Venom is the first book in a trilogy and, if things go according to current plan, the next book will feature tough chick Gretchen on the cover, while fashionable rich girl Greer gets the cover of the third book.
So, now that's it's out there and you've had a couple days todrool over study it, what do you think of Grace and the Sweet Venom cover?
Hugs,
TLC
Isn't it gorgeous? I so love everything about this, from the spiky metallic text to the snaky curls of her hair to the soft glow that kind of softens everything and makes it kind of eerie at the same time.
Fun fact, the shy girl on the cover is main character Grace Whitfield. Of the three girls, Grace is the sweetest and the shyest and the least likely to hunt down a deadly mythological monster and fight it. She a vegetarian, environmentally conscious computer geek.Sweet Venom is the first book in a trilogy and, if things go according to current plan, the next book will feature tough chick Gretchen on the cover, while fashionable rich girl Greer gets the cover of the third book.
So, now that's it's out there and you've had a couple days to
Hugs,
TLC
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Need to Read: ANGELFIRE (Win It)
*** Okay, I made Courtney pick (blame her) and the winner is... Holly Hewett! Congratulations! Thanks to all who entered. ***
The start of a brand new trilogy from fellow Katherine Tegen girl and debut author Courtney Allison Moulton.
Be sure to add Angelfire on Goodreads, check out Courtney's amazing Cafepress store, and (of course) order the book if you don't win it today!
Caught that did you? Yes, I'm giving away a copy of Angelfire today to one lucky commenter. Here's how to enter:
+1 comment telling me why you want this book
+1 add Angelfire on Goodreads
+1 follow Courtney on Twitter
+1 friend Courtney on Facebook
+1 Tweet or Facebook a link to this post
Add up your points and share your total in your comment.
Hugs,
TLC
ETA: Yes, this contest is open internationally!
ETA2: The contest is now OVER and I will pick and post the winner in the morning.
The start of a brand new trilogy from fellow Katherine Tegen girl and debut author Courtney Allison Moulton.
When seventeen-year-old Ellie starts seeing reapers - monstrous creatures who devour humans and send their souls to Hell - she finds herself on the front lines of a supernatural war between archangels and the Fallen and faced with the possible destruction of her soul.
A mysterious boy named Will reveals she is the reincarnation of an ancient warrior, the only one capable of wielding swords of angelfire to fight the reapers, and he is an immortal sworn to protect her in battle. Now that Ellie's powers have been awakened, a powerful reaper called Bastian has come forward to challenge her. He has employed a fierce assassin to eliminate her - an assassin who has already killed her once.
While balancing her dwindling social life and reaper-hunting duties, she and Will discover Bastian is searching for a dormant creature believed to be a true soul reaper. Bastian plans to use this weapon to ignite the End of Days and to destroy Ellie's soul, ending her rebirth cycle forever. Now, she must face an army of Bastian's most frightening reapers, prevent the soul reaper from consuming her soul, and uncover the secrets of her past lives - including truths that may be too frightening to remember.
Be sure to add Angelfire on Goodreads, check out Courtney's amazing Cafepress store, and (of course) order the book if you don't win it today!
Caught that did you? Yes, I'm giving away a copy of Angelfire today to one lucky commenter. Here's how to enter:
+1 comment telling me why you want this book
+1 add Angelfire on Goodreads
+1 follow Courtney on Twitter
+1 friend Courtney on Facebook
+1 Tweet or Facebook a link to this post
Add up your points and share your total in your comment.
Hugs,
TLC
ETA: Yes, this contest is open internationally!
ETA2: The contest is now OVER and I will pick and post the winner in the morning.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Sweet Venom Cover Reveal
The day of the big reveal is finally here, and all around the blogosphere the Sweet Venom cover is stepping out into the light. (Metaphorically, of course, because it's quite dark.) Want to see its gorgeousness for yourself? Here's the (amazingly long) list of participating blogs that are displaying the cover today.
So, once you've gone to one of these blogs and seen the cover, go to Goodreads and add Sweet Venom to your to-read pile, visit Facebook and like the Sweet Venom page, then come back here and let me know what you think!
Hugs,
TLC
PS. Angelfire by Courtney Allison Moulton releases today. I'll post more about this (and do a giveaway) tomorrow, but for now just know that you should add it and read it!
So, once you've gone to one of these blogs and seen the cover, go to Goodreads and add Sweet Venom to your to-read pile, visit Facebook and like the Sweet Venom page, then come back here and let me know what you think!
Hugs,
TLC
PS. Angelfire by Courtney Allison Moulton releases today. I'll post more about this (and do a giveaway) tomorrow, but for now just know that you should add it and read it!
Monday, February 14, 2011
Eye Candy: Chapter Twenty-Four (The Elliot Ending)
(Missed some? Read chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23.)
Q: What did the ignition say to the car?
A: You really turn me on.
— Laffy Taffy Joke #133
Elliot hated attending these vacuous society events. Everyone dressed in clothes that cost enough to feed starving families for a generation, all in the name of raising money for some trendy cause on another. The choking stench of hypocrisy nearly overwhelmed him.
The only thing worse than attending one, was working one. Which he was doing tonight.
Some young, up-and-coming designer had hired a dozen professionals to model his wares at the event to show everyone how beautiful people looked in his clothes and to start the buzz about his new collection. Elliot felt like a walking mannequin.
Tonight would be the exception if some rich, bored housewife didn't come up, pinch him on the butt, and offer to buy his services for the night. Feeling like a gigolo once in a week was more than enough for him.
"Goo-ood evening," a nasal voice behind him drawled, just before a pair of over-manicured fingers grabbed a substantial chunk of his left cheek. "Who are you wearing tonight? Me?"
Pasting on his best toothpaste commercial smile, the urge to flee very near the surface but carefully concealed, Elliot turned to face his latest molester. "Good evening, ma'am. This is from Mario Max's new collection."
That wasn't what she asked, but that's what he offered. Besides, he knew the "ma'am" designation would send her into a middle-aged crisis call to her plastic surgeon.
Enough. No pay check is worth this demeaning and demoralizing experience.
As if he had any morale left.
Nearly a week back in New York, and he hadn't heard from Lydia. Though he tried to hold out hope that she just hadn't chosen yet, he had to at least accept the possibility that she hadn't chosen him.
"Aarngh," he groaned, rubbing his weary face and trying to keep that kernel of despair from popping.
"Something wrong, Sweet Tooth?"
Elliot spun at the sound of her voice, disbelief that she was actually here rendering him silent. He was so focused on the spark in her green-and-gold eyes that it took him a full minute to notice what she wore.
When he did, his jaw dropped.
"Like what you see?" she asked.
He took it all in. She stood at least four inches taller than usual in a pair of black stilettos. Her long, shapely legs encased in silky black stockings. Anything else she wore was concealed by the tan trench coat knotted tightly around her waist and buttoned all the way up to her neck.
Topping it all off, and diminishing everything else in comparison, was a platinum blonde, Marilyn Monroe wig.
Unable to form words—seeing the love of his life dressed like his every fantasy could sure render a guy speechless—he could only stare and hope he didn't drool.
"I'll take that as a yes," she said. One slow, seductive step at a time, she moved closer. "Wanna get out of here?"
He nodded, forcing out something resembling speech that ended up sounding like, "Yuh-hun."
"Good." Her voice dropped to a confessional whisper. "I can barely remain upright in these shoes."
That spurred him into action. A quick scan of the area revealed a blocked open emergency exit in the back. He took Lydia by the hand and headed that direction, navigating the overwhelming crowd and ignoring the jealous stares of men and women alike.
The exit led into a back alley illuminated by a million white Christmas lights. Several guests, needing their nicotine fix but not allowed to smoke inside, stood around looking fashionably rebellious.
Too many people.
Giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, he headed down the alley and around the corner, into the connecting side alley that happened to be—thank heavens—empty.
"Are you sure this is safe?" she asked when he finally stopped.
"Absolutely," he said. "This is a perfectly safe neighborhood. Cops patrol it all the time."
Okay, he made that up. But at the moment all he cared about was Lydia and talking to her, and if he had to throw out a little white lie so they could have that conversation right then and there, so be it.
"If you're sure..."
She sounded uncertain, but instead of fleeing she walked over to the brick wall and relaxed back against it.
"I'm sure." He stepped forward, his feet on either side of hers, trapping her between his body and the building, and cupped her face in his hands. "God, I've missed you, Lyd."
"I've missed you, too." Her watery smile, one of those magical ones women possessed and men never understood, tugged at his heart.
"What's with the getup? Not that I'm unappreciative," he quickly amended when her lower lip started to pout out.
"I thought a lot about what you said," she explained, "about me being a Marilyn, not a Norma Jean. And you're right. I am an atomic fireball."
As if to emphasize her point, she slid her hands into his hair and pulled him down into a searing kiss. Her lips opened over his and Elliot groaned into her mouth, welcoming her exploring tongue. He leaned more fully into her, pressing her deeper into the wall and kicking his feet between hers so he could step into the vee of her thighs.
Pulling back, eyes glazed and lips ruby-reddened from the kiss, Lydia grinned seductively. "See." One more quick kiss. "Firecracker."
"Good thing I used to be a Boy Scout," he teased. "I know how to start all kinds of fires."
Hands braced against the wall on either side of her head, Elliot watched her heavy breathing. He thought he could even see her pulse throbbing at the base of her neck, just above the collar of the trench coat. Their eyes met, and for several long seconds he searched her soul and she searched his.
In a low, serious voice, she confessed, "I love you, Elliot Phelps."
"Yeah?" Now that he knew his days of longing were over, he let his playful side take over. "Why?"
He never expected her to take him seriously.
"Because you inspire me. You make me feel like I can be so much more than I am. You make me believe I can strike out on my own and make a go at having my own jewelry and accessories line."
"Really?" he demanded, thrill racing down his spine in goosebumps. "You're not taking the job."
"Nope," she answered moderately, though he could see the excitement beneath the surface. "I am currently unemployed."
"Not unemployed," he insisted, picking her up by the waist and spinning her around. "You're an entrepreneur."
She giggled as he set her back down against the wall. "I guess I am."
"I'm very proud of you."
"Thank you." She pressed a soft kiss on his mouth. "I wouldn't have the courage to do this without you."
"I like that kind of thank you," he teased, kissing her back. "In fact, I could think of a few other ways you could thank me if you were so inspired. At least a dozen involving this trench coat."
Placing her hands on his chest, she held him back when he tried to steal another kiss.
"Actually, I came up with one on my own."
"Really?" he growled.
"Hidden somewhere on my person is a symbol of how I feel for you." She pushed him back a step, looked both ways down the alleyway, and tightened the belt on the coat. "Find it."
With a primal growl, Elliot lunged for her, his hands roaming every inch of her body. He had no idea what he was looking for, but he would find it or die trying.
"Sir," a booming voice ordered, accompanied by the bright glare of a flashlight, "please step away from the lady."
Elliot looked up to find a patrolman watching them from the mouth of the alley, a stern look of disapproval on his face. Deciding not to tempt fate or the NYPD, Elliot took a step back from Lydia, careful to first make sure she was fully covered.
"Is he bothering you, Miss?"
"N-no, officer," she stammered as she clutched the trench coat over her chest. "He, um, is... his advances are welcome, if you know what I mean."
"Yes, Miss." The fatherly officer actually blushed. "Then you should take this somewhere private before you get an indecent exposure rap."
"Right away, sir."
When the officer didn't move, Elliot took Lydia by the hand and walked out of the alley. Within seconds he had hailed a cab and given the driver directions.
"You cad!" Lydia jerked the wig off her head and used it to whack him in the back of the head.
Elliot rubbed his scalp, wondering what in a cloth and nylon wig could of stung his flesh. "What was that for."
"You never said cops patrolled the alley itself."
"I didn't know. How could I—"
He stopped himself when Lydia burst out laughing.
"That was the most excitement I've had since..." She pondered, still grinning. "Well, since that boat ride in Italy."
"I'm happy to be of service." Elliot tried to sound petulant, even as he knew he loved her even more for her absurd sense of humor. "Hey, where's that thing hidden, anyway?"
She mouthed an exaggerated oh before checking the driver's attention. Finding it on the road, she reached inside the coat, in the general vicinity of her cleavage, and pulled out a small, round, shiny green ball. He had no idea what it was, but when she reached forward and placed it against his lips he obligingly opened and let her drop it on his tongue.
"Mmm," he hummed as he sucked on the ball. "Sweet. Whad ith it?"
"An Everlasting Gobstopper."
Her eyes looked at him, expectant. This was a symbol of her feelings for him, that they were everlasting.
He grinned and spit the candy into his palm, depositing it in his jacket pocket before leaning in to kiss her confused mouth. "Then I'll just make sure it lasts longer than Ever."
Lydia sighed and sank into his side. "I'll hold you to that. Verbal contract."
The cab pulled to a stop in front of his building. They climbed out and Elliot paid the cabbie. He turned back to Lydia just as she was retying the belt on the trench coat.
"Did I tell you my first name isn't Elliot anymore?" he teased, taking her by the arm and leading her into the building. "I've changed it to Gobstopper."
"What? Why?"
"Because I'm Everlasting."
She laughed at his stupid joke; this was why he loved her.
"I hope so, I expect to love you for a very long time."
"Oh yeah," he replied. "In love, too."
He waggled his eyebrows and she smacked him with the wig. "Ha, ha, very funny."
"That's why you love me."
"Yes," she sighed in mock resignation, "I suppose it is."
"Now we need to come up with a new name for you. What goes with Gobstopper?"
"How about..." she whispered her suggestion in his ear.
"Naughty, naughty girl." Elliot swung her into his arms and bounded up the stairs to his apartment. Licorice Laces had never sounded so good. "I love candy."
Q: What did the ignition say to the car?
A: You really turn me on.
— Laffy Taffy Joke #133
Elliot hated attending these vacuous society events. Everyone dressed in clothes that cost enough to feed starving families for a generation, all in the name of raising money for some trendy cause on another. The choking stench of hypocrisy nearly overwhelmed him.
The only thing worse than attending one, was working one. Which he was doing tonight.
Some young, up-and-coming designer had hired a dozen professionals to model his wares at the event to show everyone how beautiful people looked in his clothes and to start the buzz about his new collection. Elliot felt like a walking mannequin.
Tonight would be the exception if some rich, bored housewife didn't come up, pinch him on the butt, and offer to buy his services for the night. Feeling like a gigolo once in a week was more than enough for him.
"Goo-ood evening," a nasal voice behind him drawled, just before a pair of over-manicured fingers grabbed a substantial chunk of his left cheek. "Who are you wearing tonight? Me?"
Pasting on his best toothpaste commercial smile, the urge to flee very near the surface but carefully concealed, Elliot turned to face his latest molester. "Good evening, ma'am. This is from Mario Max's new collection."
That wasn't what she asked, but that's what he offered. Besides, he knew the "ma'am" designation would send her into a middle-aged crisis call to her plastic surgeon.
Enough. No pay check is worth this demeaning and demoralizing experience.
As if he had any morale left.
Nearly a week back in New York, and he hadn't heard from Lydia. Though he tried to hold out hope that she just hadn't chosen yet, he had to at least accept the possibility that she hadn't chosen him.
"Aarngh," he groaned, rubbing his weary face and trying to keep that kernel of despair from popping.
"Something wrong, Sweet Tooth?"
Elliot spun at the sound of her voice, disbelief that she was actually here rendering him silent. He was so focused on the spark in her green-and-gold eyes that it took him a full minute to notice what she wore.
When he did, his jaw dropped.
"Like what you see?" she asked.
He took it all in. She stood at least four inches taller than usual in a pair of black stilettos. Her long, shapely legs encased in silky black stockings. Anything else she wore was concealed by the tan trench coat knotted tightly around her waist and buttoned all the way up to her neck.
Topping it all off, and diminishing everything else in comparison, was a platinum blonde, Marilyn Monroe wig.
Unable to form words—seeing the love of his life dressed like his every fantasy could sure render a guy speechless—he could only stare and hope he didn't drool.
"I'll take that as a yes," she said. One slow, seductive step at a time, she moved closer. "Wanna get out of here?"
He nodded, forcing out something resembling speech that ended up sounding like, "Yuh-hun."
"Good." Her voice dropped to a confessional whisper. "I can barely remain upright in these shoes."
That spurred him into action. A quick scan of the area revealed a blocked open emergency exit in the back. He took Lydia by the hand and headed that direction, navigating the overwhelming crowd and ignoring the jealous stares of men and women alike.
The exit led into a back alley illuminated by a million white Christmas lights. Several guests, needing their nicotine fix but not allowed to smoke inside, stood around looking fashionably rebellious.
Too many people.
Giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, he headed down the alley and around the corner, into the connecting side alley that happened to be—thank heavens—empty.
"Are you sure this is safe?" she asked when he finally stopped.
"Absolutely," he said. "This is a perfectly safe neighborhood. Cops patrol it all the time."
Okay, he made that up. But at the moment all he cared about was Lydia and talking to her, and if he had to throw out a little white lie so they could have that conversation right then and there, so be it.
"If you're sure..."
She sounded uncertain, but instead of fleeing she walked over to the brick wall and relaxed back against it.
"I'm sure." He stepped forward, his feet on either side of hers, trapping her between his body and the building, and cupped her face in his hands. "God, I've missed you, Lyd."
"I've missed you, too." Her watery smile, one of those magical ones women possessed and men never understood, tugged at his heart.
"What's with the getup? Not that I'm unappreciative," he quickly amended when her lower lip started to pout out.
"I thought a lot about what you said," she explained, "about me being a Marilyn, not a Norma Jean. And you're right. I am an atomic fireball."
As if to emphasize her point, she slid her hands into his hair and pulled him down into a searing kiss. Her lips opened over his and Elliot groaned into her mouth, welcoming her exploring tongue. He leaned more fully into her, pressing her deeper into the wall and kicking his feet between hers so he could step into the vee of her thighs.
Pulling back, eyes glazed and lips ruby-reddened from the kiss, Lydia grinned seductively. "See." One more quick kiss. "Firecracker."
"Good thing I used to be a Boy Scout," he teased. "I know how to start all kinds of fires."
Hands braced against the wall on either side of her head, Elliot watched her heavy breathing. He thought he could even see her pulse throbbing at the base of her neck, just above the collar of the trench coat. Their eyes met, and for several long seconds he searched her soul and she searched his.
In a low, serious voice, she confessed, "I love you, Elliot Phelps."
"Yeah?" Now that he knew his days of longing were over, he let his playful side take over. "Why?"
He never expected her to take him seriously.
"Because you inspire me. You make me feel like I can be so much more than I am. You make me believe I can strike out on my own and make a go at having my own jewelry and accessories line."
"Really?" he demanded, thrill racing down his spine in goosebumps. "You're not taking the job."
"Nope," she answered moderately, though he could see the excitement beneath the surface. "I am currently unemployed."
"Not unemployed," he insisted, picking her up by the waist and spinning her around. "You're an entrepreneur."
She giggled as he set her back down against the wall. "I guess I am."
"I'm very proud of you."
"Thank you." She pressed a soft kiss on his mouth. "I wouldn't have the courage to do this without you."
"I like that kind of thank you," he teased, kissing her back. "In fact, I could think of a few other ways you could thank me if you were so inspired. At least a dozen involving this trench coat."
Placing her hands on his chest, she held him back when he tried to steal another kiss.
"Actually, I came up with one on my own."
"Really?" he growled.
"Hidden somewhere on my person is a symbol of how I feel for you." She pushed him back a step, looked both ways down the alleyway, and tightened the belt on the coat. "Find it."
With a primal growl, Elliot lunged for her, his hands roaming every inch of her body. He had no idea what he was looking for, but he would find it or die trying.
"Sir," a booming voice ordered, accompanied by the bright glare of a flashlight, "please step away from the lady."
Elliot looked up to find a patrolman watching them from the mouth of the alley, a stern look of disapproval on his face. Deciding not to tempt fate or the NYPD, Elliot took a step back from Lydia, careful to first make sure she was fully covered.
"Is he bothering you, Miss?"
"N-no, officer," she stammered as she clutched the trench coat over her chest. "He, um, is... his advances are welcome, if you know what I mean."
"Yes, Miss." The fatherly officer actually blushed. "Then you should take this somewhere private before you get an indecent exposure rap."
"Right away, sir."
When the officer didn't move, Elliot took Lydia by the hand and walked out of the alley. Within seconds he had hailed a cab and given the driver directions.
"You cad!" Lydia jerked the wig off her head and used it to whack him in the back of the head.
Elliot rubbed his scalp, wondering what in a cloth and nylon wig could of stung his flesh. "What was that for."
"You never said cops patrolled the alley itself."
"I didn't know. How could I—"
He stopped himself when Lydia burst out laughing.
"That was the most excitement I've had since..." She pondered, still grinning. "Well, since that boat ride in Italy."
"I'm happy to be of service." Elliot tried to sound petulant, even as he knew he loved her even more for her absurd sense of humor. "Hey, where's that thing hidden, anyway?"
She mouthed an exaggerated oh before checking the driver's attention. Finding it on the road, she reached inside the coat, in the general vicinity of her cleavage, and pulled out a small, round, shiny green ball. He had no idea what it was, but when she reached forward and placed it against his lips he obligingly opened and let her drop it on his tongue.
"Mmm," he hummed as he sucked on the ball. "Sweet. Whad ith it?"
"An Everlasting Gobstopper."
Her eyes looked at him, expectant. This was a symbol of her feelings for him, that they were everlasting.
He grinned and spit the candy into his palm, depositing it in his jacket pocket before leaning in to kiss her confused mouth. "Then I'll just make sure it lasts longer than Ever."
Lydia sighed and sank into his side. "I'll hold you to that. Verbal contract."
The cab pulled to a stop in front of his building. They climbed out and Elliot paid the cabbie. He turned back to Lydia just as she was retying the belt on the trench coat.
"Did I tell you my first name isn't Elliot anymore?" he teased, taking her by the arm and leading her into the building. "I've changed it to Gobstopper."
"What? Why?"
"Because I'm Everlasting."
She laughed at his stupid joke; this was why he loved her.
"I hope so, I expect to love you for a very long time."
"Oh yeah," he replied. "In love, too."
He waggled his eyebrows and she smacked him with the wig. "Ha, ha, very funny."
"That's why you love me."
"Yes," she sighed in mock resignation, "I suppose it is."
"Now we need to come up with a new name for you. What goes with Gobstopper?"
"How about..." she whispered her suggestion in his ear.
"Naughty, naughty girl." Elliot swung her into his arms and bounded up the stairs to his apartment. Licorice Laces had never sounded so good. "I love candy."
Eye Candy: Chapter Twenty-Four (The Gavin Ending)
(Missed some? Read chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23.)
Q: What did one heart say to the other?
A: Beat that.
— Laffy Taffy Joke #119
Gavin sighed as the elevator dropped him off at his apartment. It had been a long day. A long week. A long life.
He hadn't seen Lydia since she passed beyond the first class curtain on the flight back to New York. Not in the flesh, anyway. At night, her image haunted his dreams. During the day she filled his every thought.
His heart hurt for missing her.
Though he knew it was the right thing to do—for all of them—he wished he could take back that last night in Milan. The ultimatum he and Elliot had laid out was supposed to end their suffering. But instead, almost a week later, it had only multiplied his pain.
He couldn't take it any more.
Grabbing the cordless phone from the living room, he strolled into the den, loosening his tie and shrugging out of his jacket. He ditched his briefcase in the corner and collapsed into the welcoming chair behind his desk.
Eyes closed, he slowly massaged his temples with one hand, phone still clutched in the other. Thank God it was Friday.
And he'd waited long enough.
He punched the number into the phone and waited while the call connected. The phone had just double-beeped, signaling the call was about to go through, when his gaze fell on the display case next to his desk.
Still empty when he left for work that morning, now a colorful object caught his eye amid the plain velvet lining.
Heart pounding, he clicked off the phone and leapt to his feet. There, on the rectangular lift in the center where his book should be was a bright yellow box of Everlasting Gobstoppers.
"Lydia," he whispered.
Hope bubbled inside him.
He quickly hit redial on the phone, impatient for it to ring. When it did, he heard the faint refrain of "Lollipop Lollipop" coming from the back hall. As the phone continued to ring, the song grew louder and louder until it sounded just outside the door.
Then it stopped.
Gavin crossed to the closed door, phone pressed to his ear.
"Lydia?"
"Hello, Gavin."
Her voice came from both directions.
"Was there something you wanted to tell me?" he asked.
"Well, yes," she answered, "actually there was."
When she didn't elaborate, he encouraged her. "Go on."
"Oh, well, you see—" she drawled.
Movement caught his eye and he watched as the door handle slowly turned.
"—I think you should know—"
The latch clicked and the door opened just enough to clear the strike plate.
"—I still have a key to your apartment."
Gavin held his breath, but the door didn't move.
"Is that all?" he asked.
"No," she whispered, "there's more."
Slowly, like molasses in winter, the door inched open. He stepped to the side, allowing it to open completely. Lydia, beautiful and heartbreakingly hesitant, closed her phone met his gaze.
"I think you should know—"
She stepped forward into the den, not stopping until only inches separated them. Gavin reached out, needing to touch her, and traced his fingers over her cheek.
"—that I love you."
"Thank God," he groaned as he pulled her into his arms. "I don't think I could have lived without you any longer."
He found her lips and took that promise from her in a kiss. It felt like forever since he'd held her like this; since he felt hope for their future and all-around contentment. She melted in his arms like a wet noodle and he knew she felt all the same things.
Reluctantly pulling back, he also knew they needed to have a nice long talk before a nice long night in his king-size bed.
Grinning because he couldn't help it, he asked, "What took you so long?"
"I had a lot to sift through," she murmured.
Afraid she might have some lingering doubt, he ducked his head and studied her glowing hazel eyes. Open, honest, and centers glittering gold with absolute certainty.
Relieved, he agreed, "Yeah, I guess you did."
Lydia laid her head on his shoulder, and he breathed in the vanilla sugar aroma of her perfume. He'd missed that scent; even resorting to hunting down the brand at Macy's and buying a little sachet he kept under his pillow. Now he had the real thing.
The poor sachet didn't compare.
"I'm glad you finally came around," he confessed as he pressed kisses across her forehead. She tasted as sweet as she smelled.
"Hey," he accused, remembering how this whole reunion began, "not that I don't appreciate the gesture—" He turned into the room and gestured at the display case. "—but when did my book turn into a box of candy?"
"It didn't, silly," she admonished. But a tell-tale blush crept onto her delicate cheeks, suggesting she felt a little guilty. "The book is safely hidden away in my office at Ferrero."
Recognizing the career choice as the other major decision on her mind, he wondered if that meant she had made her choice. "Does that mean you took the creative position?"
She nodded. "I start on Monday. New position, new division, new title. I'm going to be Guest Designer, which means my name will appear beneath Ferrero's on every piece I design. That way, when I go out on my own I'll have some name recognition already."
Her words became hesitant at the end. Gavin could sense her concern, worried about his reaction. When I go out on my own, she'd said. Not if. She was afraid he would disapprove of her leaving the security of an established position for the uncertain future of an independent line.
She was wrong.
"Sounds like the perfect plan." He made sure he sounded as sure and reassuring as he felt. "But I know your name will end up plastered on billboards in Times Square, recognition or not. Talent has a way of rising to the top."
Clearly, he said just the right thing because she beamed and threw her arms around him.
"You're wonderful," she exclaimed.
"I know."
Without warning, she extricated herself from his arms and bounded over to the display case. "Your book will be home on Monday." She popped open the lid and studied the contents. "I just wanted you to know how I felt."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, Gobstoppers," she began, blushing and not meeting his gaze, "they're Everlasting. Like your love." Finally looking up, she met his gaze squarely. "Like mine."
Her attention returned to the case. She slipped a hand inside and stroked the yellow cardboard with a reverent touch. When she wrapped her fingers around the box and removed it, Gavin joined her and covered her hand with his to stop her.
"Leave it."
She looked up, startled. "But your book—"
"—can find another home," he finished.
"Maybe they can share the space?" That smile he loved spread across her pink lips. "Our kids should learn to live together in harmony."
"Candy and a rare and seminal work of American history?" He shook his head in mock disgust. "She might corrupt him."
"He might elevate her," Lydia offered. "After all, she loves him very much. She wouldn't want to live without him, you know."
Gavin collapsed into his leather chair and pulled her down on his lap. "I wish you'd figured that out two years ago."
"I couldn't have." She looked at him, earnest and determined. "I didn't love you then."
"How could you not—"
"I didn't know you, Gavin. Not really."
Relaxing, she squirmed into a more comfortable position and settled against his chest. Her hands, however, did not settle. They roamed over his chest, making him wish the talking was over and his shirt would evaporate.
Lydia continued. "I only knew what I saw you to be: attractive, successful, and interested in me."
"Aren't I still all those things?"
"Of course. But now I know how much more there is to you. You're not just the glossy picture on the cover of GQ. You like the symphony and romantic dinners and you're the whole package, Gavin Fairchild." Her hand came to rest on his waistband. "And I love you."
"Good, because you're stuck with me."
"Like Bubble Yum on the bottom of my shoe?" she asked, wicked humor glinting in her hazel eyes.
"Like a wet lollipop on your window."
"Mmm mmm, yummy." She lifted up and nibbled at his jaw line, sending little sparks of electricity along every nerve in his body. "Can I have a lick?"
"Anytime," he ground out as her nibbles moved closer and closer to his mouth.
The last thing Gavin heard before her mouth met his was, "I love candy."
Q: What did one heart say to the other?
A: Beat that.
— Laffy Taffy Joke #119
Gavin sighed as the elevator dropped him off at his apartment. It had been a long day. A long week. A long life.
He hadn't seen Lydia since she passed beyond the first class curtain on the flight back to New York. Not in the flesh, anyway. At night, her image haunted his dreams. During the day she filled his every thought.
His heart hurt for missing her.
Though he knew it was the right thing to do—for all of them—he wished he could take back that last night in Milan. The ultimatum he and Elliot had laid out was supposed to end their suffering. But instead, almost a week later, it had only multiplied his pain.
He couldn't take it any more.
Grabbing the cordless phone from the living room, he strolled into the den, loosening his tie and shrugging out of his jacket. He ditched his briefcase in the corner and collapsed into the welcoming chair behind his desk.
Eyes closed, he slowly massaged his temples with one hand, phone still clutched in the other. Thank God it was Friday.
And he'd waited long enough.
He punched the number into the phone and waited while the call connected. The phone had just double-beeped, signaling the call was about to go through, when his gaze fell on the display case next to his desk.
Still empty when he left for work that morning, now a colorful object caught his eye amid the plain velvet lining.
Heart pounding, he clicked off the phone and leapt to his feet. There, on the rectangular lift in the center where his book should be was a bright yellow box of Everlasting Gobstoppers.
"Lydia," he whispered.
Hope bubbled inside him.
He quickly hit redial on the phone, impatient for it to ring. When it did, he heard the faint refrain of "Lollipop Lollipop" coming from the back hall. As the phone continued to ring, the song grew louder and louder until it sounded just outside the door.
Then it stopped.
Gavin crossed to the closed door, phone pressed to his ear.
"Lydia?"
"Hello, Gavin."
Her voice came from both directions.
"Was there something you wanted to tell me?" he asked.
"Well, yes," she answered, "actually there was."
When she didn't elaborate, he encouraged her. "Go on."
"Oh, well, you see—" she drawled.
Movement caught his eye and he watched as the door handle slowly turned.
"—I think you should know—"
The latch clicked and the door opened just enough to clear the strike plate.
"—I still have a key to your apartment."
Gavin held his breath, but the door didn't move.
"Is that all?" he asked.
"No," she whispered, "there's more."
Slowly, like molasses in winter, the door inched open. He stepped to the side, allowing it to open completely. Lydia, beautiful and heartbreakingly hesitant, closed her phone met his gaze.
"I think you should know—"
She stepped forward into the den, not stopping until only inches separated them. Gavin reached out, needing to touch her, and traced his fingers over her cheek.
"—that I love you."
"Thank God," he groaned as he pulled her into his arms. "I don't think I could have lived without you any longer."
He found her lips and took that promise from her in a kiss. It felt like forever since he'd held her like this; since he felt hope for their future and all-around contentment. She melted in his arms like a wet noodle and he knew she felt all the same things.
Reluctantly pulling back, he also knew they needed to have a nice long talk before a nice long night in his king-size bed.
Grinning because he couldn't help it, he asked, "What took you so long?"
"I had a lot to sift through," she murmured.
Afraid she might have some lingering doubt, he ducked his head and studied her glowing hazel eyes. Open, honest, and centers glittering gold with absolute certainty.
Relieved, he agreed, "Yeah, I guess you did."
Lydia laid her head on his shoulder, and he breathed in the vanilla sugar aroma of her perfume. He'd missed that scent; even resorting to hunting down the brand at Macy's and buying a little sachet he kept under his pillow. Now he had the real thing.
The poor sachet didn't compare.
"I'm glad you finally came around," he confessed as he pressed kisses across her forehead. She tasted as sweet as she smelled.
"Hey," he accused, remembering how this whole reunion began, "not that I don't appreciate the gesture—" He turned into the room and gestured at the display case. "—but when did my book turn into a box of candy?"
"It didn't, silly," she admonished. But a tell-tale blush crept onto her delicate cheeks, suggesting she felt a little guilty. "The book is safely hidden away in my office at Ferrero."
Recognizing the career choice as the other major decision on her mind, he wondered if that meant she had made her choice. "Does that mean you took the creative position?"
She nodded. "I start on Monday. New position, new division, new title. I'm going to be Guest Designer, which means my name will appear beneath Ferrero's on every piece I design. That way, when I go out on my own I'll have some name recognition already."
Her words became hesitant at the end. Gavin could sense her concern, worried about his reaction. When I go out on my own, she'd said. Not if. She was afraid he would disapprove of her leaving the security of an established position for the uncertain future of an independent line.
She was wrong.
"Sounds like the perfect plan." He made sure he sounded as sure and reassuring as he felt. "But I know your name will end up plastered on billboards in Times Square, recognition or not. Talent has a way of rising to the top."
Clearly, he said just the right thing because she beamed and threw her arms around him.
"You're wonderful," she exclaimed.
"I know."
Without warning, she extricated herself from his arms and bounded over to the display case. "Your book will be home on Monday." She popped open the lid and studied the contents. "I just wanted you to know how I felt."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, Gobstoppers," she began, blushing and not meeting his gaze, "they're Everlasting. Like your love." Finally looking up, she met his gaze squarely. "Like mine."
Her attention returned to the case. She slipped a hand inside and stroked the yellow cardboard with a reverent touch. When she wrapped her fingers around the box and removed it, Gavin joined her and covered her hand with his to stop her.
"Leave it."
She looked up, startled. "But your book—"
"—can find another home," he finished.
"Maybe they can share the space?" That smile he loved spread across her pink lips. "Our kids should learn to live together in harmony."
"Candy and a rare and seminal work of American history?" He shook his head in mock disgust. "She might corrupt him."
"He might elevate her," Lydia offered. "After all, she loves him very much. She wouldn't want to live without him, you know."
Gavin collapsed into his leather chair and pulled her down on his lap. "I wish you'd figured that out two years ago."
"I couldn't have." She looked at him, earnest and determined. "I didn't love you then."
"How could you not—"
"I didn't know you, Gavin. Not really."
Relaxing, she squirmed into a more comfortable position and settled against his chest. Her hands, however, did not settle. They roamed over his chest, making him wish the talking was over and his shirt would evaporate.
Lydia continued. "I only knew what I saw you to be: attractive, successful, and interested in me."
"Aren't I still all those things?"
"Of course. But now I know how much more there is to you. You're not just the glossy picture on the cover of GQ. You like the symphony and romantic dinners and you're the whole package, Gavin Fairchild." Her hand came to rest on his waistband. "And I love you."
"Good, because you're stuck with me."
"Like Bubble Yum on the bottom of my shoe?" she asked, wicked humor glinting in her hazel eyes.
"Like a wet lollipop on your window."
"Mmm mmm, yummy." She lifted up and nibbled at his jaw line, sending little sparks of electricity along every nerve in his body. "Can I have a lick?"
"Anytime," he ground out as her nibbles moved closer and closer to his mouth.
The last thing Gavin heard before her mouth met his was, "I love candy."
Friday, February 11, 2011
This Isn't the End of Eye Candy
Yep, Eye Candy is almost over. The results of the poll at the end of chapter twenty-three were overwhelmingly in favor of Elliot. (Poor Gavin.) Last time I checked more than 85% of you want Lydia to end up with her younger guy.
As I've mentioned a few times in comments, when I started writing the book (with no end in mind) I thought Gavin was just going to be a jerky ex. But he wasn't content with that and, as I wrote, he straightening me out on a few facts. By the time I got to the end I literally could not decide which guy she should end up with. It was a dilemma.
Until I remembered that I'm the writer. I can do whatever I want with the story, no matter what the characters say. So, instead of making the hard choice, I decided to make no choice at all. In my fictional world, Lydia could, in a sense, get both boys without becoming a polygamist. I decided to give her two endings.
Both endings will post on Valentine's Day. First you'll get to read Gavin's ending in the morning and then (because I like to save the best for last) Elliot's ending will post a few hours later. We (and Lydia) get the best of both worlds! I hope you enjoy them.
Hugs,
TLC
PS. Don't forget to check back on Tuesday, February 15th, for the massive, web-wide reveal of the Sweet Venom cover.
PPS. Then come back again later in the week for exciting Eye Candy news.
As I've mentioned a few times in comments, when I started writing the book (with no end in mind) I thought Gavin was just going to be a jerky ex. But he wasn't content with that and, as I wrote, he straightening me out on a few facts. By the time I got to the end I literally could not decide which guy she should end up with. It was a dilemma.
 |
| hearts by summerbl4ck |
Until I remembered that I'm the writer. I can do whatever I want with the story, no matter what the characters say. So, instead of making the hard choice, I decided to make no choice at all. In my fictional world, Lydia could, in a sense, get both boys without becoming a polygamist. I decided to give her two endings.
Both endings will post on Valentine's Day. First you'll get to read Gavin's ending in the morning and then (because I like to save the best for last) Elliot's ending will post a few hours later. We (and Lydia) get the best of both worlds! I hope you enjoy them.
Hugs,
TLC
PS. Don't forget to check back on Tuesday, February 15th, for the massive, web-wide reveal of the Sweet Venom cover.
PPS. Then come back again later in the week for exciting Eye Candy news.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Win Fins Are Forever on Goodreads
ARCs for Fins Are Forever are few and far between, so if you're looking for a chance to win one before the June 28 release date then Goodreads is the place to be. All it takes is a click to enter.
And, in case you haven't already, add Fins Are Forever to your to-read shelf while you're there.
Hugs,
TLC
And, in case you haven't already, add Fins Are Forever to your to-read shelf while you're there.
Hugs,
TLC
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Forgive My Fins Across the Pond
One of the most exciting things for me as a published writer is to learn my books are going to be published in other countries. I mean, it's a big enough dream to think they'll be published here in the USA, but in other languages and around the world? Wow, that's crazy!
Forgive My Fins has made the biggest splash by far into foreign sales, selling to Sweden, Norway, Finland, Germany, Hungary, Indonesia, and the UK.
I got a fun forward from Templar, my UK publisher, today with the cover for their edition of Forgive My Fins and the go ahead to share it with the world.
Isn't it pretty?!? I love the colors and the little tails on the Fs and the bubbles and seashells up the side. And the best part? It's going to be printed on foil so it will be shiny and sparkly. Swoon.
What do you think?
Hugs,
TLC
Forgive My Fins has made the biggest splash by far into foreign sales, selling to Sweden, Norway, Finland, Germany, Hungary, Indonesia, and the UK.
I got a fun forward from Templar, my UK publisher, today with the cover for their edition of Forgive My Fins and the go ahead to share it with the world.
Isn't it pretty?!? I love the colors and the little tails on the Fs and the bubbles and seashells up the side. And the best part? It's going to be printed on foil so it will be shiny and sparkly. Swoon.
What do you think?
Hugs,
TLC
Monday, February 7, 2011
Winners, Winners, Winners!
A few minutes ago I used random.org to select the winners for both my January website contest and the Medusa Girls Title Hunt contest. I will be emailing all the winners tonight, but for now here's a list of email handles (truncated for security resons) so you can see if you're a lucky one:
January Website Contest
(each winner receives a signed copy of Forgive My Fins)
Medusa Girls Title Hunt
Congratulations winners! And if you didn't make the list? Don't worry, there are always more contests to come! (Like here for example.)
Hugs,
TLC
January Website Contest
(each winner receives a signed copy of Forgive My Fins)
- luvsoccer143@...
- oliviamend...
Medusa Girls Title Hunt
- guardgurl711@... (B&N NOOK Wi-Fi or $150 gift card of choice)
- emily@red... ($50 gift card of choice and set of my 3 books)
- 1110cg@... ($25 gift card of choice and set of my 3 books)
Congratulations winners! And if you didn't make the list? Don't worry, there are always more contests to come! (Like here for example.)
Hugs,
TLC
Friday, February 4, 2011
Eye Candy: Chapter Twenty-Three
(Missed some? Read chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.)
Q: What's the hardest thing about learning to rollerskate?
A: The pavement.
— Laffy Taffy Joke #59
No one spoke to me on the flight back to New York. Not that I was much up for conversation anyway. Ferrero was, understandably, not speaking to me. Janice and Kelly were mad at me on Ferrero's behalf.
Gavin and Elliot were standing by their ultimatum and avoiding me until I made my decision.
Since I had only myself for company, and I was pretty miserable company at that, I popped a pair of Nitol, found an empty row of seats in coach, and slept the entire flight.
I didn't wake up until a flight attendant shook me and asked me to prepare for landing. I just buckled in where I was and, by the time all the rows in front of me had disembarked and I got up to first class to grab my carry-on, all of my traveling companions were gone.
The only person I recognized at the baggage carousel was Ferrero's driver. He gave me a sympathetic smile as he shook his head and told me that I was instructed to find my own transport home.
As I waited my turn in the taxi line, I wasn't worried that Ferrero's wrath would last. It wasn't like I had lied and slandered him in public. He hadn't even specifically told me not to reveal his true identity. And he had been mad at me in the past. It never lasted.
I just hoped that Janice and Kelly would turn around as quickly as I knew he would.
Gavin and Elliot? Well, I knew how to solve that problem, I just didn't know which path to take.
"Ma'am," the taxi attendant shouted, "ma'am, you're next."
I moved to the last taxi in line, handing my suitcase to the driver just as my phone rang.
"West 76th," I instructed.
Sliding into the back of the cab, I answered my phone as the cabbie lurched out into the through lane.
"Hello?"
"Lydia, thank God," Mom cried just before she burst into tearful sobs.
"Mom," I yelled, trying to get her attention long enough to explain. "What's wrong? Has something happened? Has there been an accident?"
"It's y-your f-father," she stuttered.
"Daddy!" I shrieked. "What's happened to him? Is he okay?"
"He—oh God—he's," Mom wailed, "having an affair!"
"He's ha—" On the verge of tears, certain my father had been eaten by sharks or speared by a harpoon, I caught myself as I realized what she said. "An affair? Mom, what are you talking about?"
The notion that my father was having an affair—or, for that matter, interest in any woman but my mom—was preposterous. He was the most loving and devoted husband I had ever known.
"With the deck hand." Her sobs subsided and she spoke with only the occasional sniff. "She's a former M-miss Hawaiian Tropic."
"She's not a real deck hand?" I asked, more concerned for my parents' safety without an experienced sailor on board than with this notion of an affair.
"Yes, of course she is. She knows everything about the stupid boat."
I stifled my relieved whew, knowing Mom would not appreciate the sentiment. "Well, then, what makes you think he's having an affair? Did you catch them together?"
"No, but—"
"Has Dad been, um..." I hunted for the right word while trying to maintain my stomach contents. "Inattentive?"
"No, we're actually having more se—"
"Then why," I blurted before she could finish the sentence and send me into a decade of therapy, "do you think they're having an affair?"
"Because he-he-he gave her a nickname."
The last word ended on a plaintiff wail and, if it hadn't been the silliest statement of proof of infidelity in history, I might have been concerned.
"Mom," I said sharply, my tolerance for anyone else's problems Thin Mint thin at the moment, "listen to me. Dad is not having an affair. Now tell me what's really the matter."
Several silent moments passed before she quietly ventured, "I don't like sailing."
My shoulders sagged, thankful the problem was nothing worse than realizing she wasn't cut out for the life of a sailor. "That's not the end of the world."
"I know." Her voice already sounded better, all signs of tears gone. "It's just that your father seems to be enjoying himself and I'm miserable. I hate water. I hate the sun. And I especially hate the endless parade of canned foods I have to cook because our refrigerator is the size of an ice cube."
"Tell him that. He'll understand."
"Maybe you're right, but—"
"What if he feels the same way?" I offered. "What if he's just too proud to tell you his great retirement plan is a big flop? You'll never know if you don't talk it out."
Mom's sigh carried across hundreds of miles. "I know, it's just that... no, you're right. How did you get so smart?"
"Years of practice with other people's problems."
Too bad that experience didn't apply to my own.
"Is everything alright with you, dear? You sound a little worn down yourself."
For a split second I thought about gushing. Spouting out all the things that had gone wrong in the last few weeks and hoping that mothers really did have all the answers. But this was my life. My problems. I had to work them out on my own.
"Just jetlag." If only. A six hour time change was the least of my worries. "I just need a cup of hot tea and a good night's sleep."
"Alright," Mom said, sounding unsatisfied but recognizing that I wasn't looking for help, "call me when you're feeling better."
"Will do."
Hopefully, that would be sometime before the next ice age.
"You are a genius, Lydia."
I stared at the cordless receiver in my hand, wondering if my phone had some fancy new computer chip that allowed only bizarre calls to ring through.
"Ferrero?" I asked, incredulous that he would be calling me at all, let alone phoning to call me a genius.
"Pre-sales on the Fall collection are through the roof." His Italian accent was gone, South Jersey coming through loud and clear. "Thanks to you."
"What do you mean?"
Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I crawled out of bed and headed for the kitchen and mind-clearing cup of peppermint tea.
"Your publicity stunt worked," he continued. "The press ate it up like Godiva, plastering my name on every rag sheet from here to Tokyo."
"Publicity stunt?"
I squinted at the clock on my stove. 6:15. Maybe I needed to unplug my phone at night. None of these early morning conversations ever made sense.
"Denouncing my Italian identity at the after party in front of everyone." He sounded delighted. "Brilliant!"
"Ferrero, it's too early for this kind of confusion." I set a cup of hot water in the microwave and punched it on for ninety seconds. "What are you talking about?"
"Lydia, darling, every newspaper in the world covered my party—and my collection—because you outed me in public. There is no such thing as bad press. Our stock doubled over the weekend."
"Oh."
The microwave beeped and I rushed to pour the boiling water over the tea bag in my coffee mug. While it steeped I inhaled the wakening aroma of peppermint, praying it notched my alertness up a level.
"And it's not early," he added, "it's late."
Bent over the counter to sniff my tea, I had a closer view of the clock and made out the tiny P next to the time. Jetlag must have hit harder than I thought.
"So you're not mad at me anymore?" I deduced.
"Mad?" Ferrero squealed. "I adore you!"
"Oh." If I weren't so exhausted I might have been happy about that. "That's good."
Deeming my tea steeped enough to drink—and my brain desperate enough to endure weak tea—I swallowed a tingling gulp.
"Have you decided about the creative position?"
"The job? I didn't know the offer was still open."
"Of course it is."
Though peppermint was supposed to calm upset stomachs, mine clenched. Yet another decision to make.
"I'll let you know by Friday," I offered. By then my brain might have stopped spinning.
"So Ferrero loves you again?" Bethany asked.
When my enthusiasm level upon returning from Italy hadn't measured up, she and Fiona called an emergency Wednesday night meeting at Sweet Spot.
"Yes. He even still wants me to hire on as Accessories Designer."
"And Gavin still loves you?" Fiona tapped the stainless steel tabletop with a matching silver fingernail.
"Yes," I moaned. This was nothing I hadn't been over a billion times in the last two days. "He always has."
"Phelps too?" Bethany made a note on the rose-colored notepad in front of her.
"It's Elliot, actually."
"You call him by his last name?"
"No," I explained, throwing a scowl Fiona's way for not telling me in the first place, "his real name is Elliot Phelps. Phelps Elliot is just his professional name."
"Hey," Fiona returned, hands raised is a defensive gesture, "I didn't think it'd come up. How was I to know he would fall in love with you?"
"Anyway," Bethany interrupted, "Phelps or Elliot or whoever loves you too?"
I nodded. My eyes blurred as I stared at the untouched Lemon Drop on the table. Fiona was certain my problem was nothing that couldn't be solved by a girls night out and buckets of vodka. Noticing that my ice had melted, she grabbed the drink and headed for the bar.
"You love them both?" Beth's voice softened. "You're in love with them both?"
I nodded again.
"But they're so different."
"I know. That's why I love them both." My heart thudded in despair. "That's why I can't choose."
"Well, here's the deal," she asserted, laying it all out for me. "Either you choose one or you lose them both. So let's figure this out."
Fiona returned to the table and set down the glass as she sat. "Start with Pros and Cons. What's good about Gavin?"
"He's kind, considerate, and reliable. Established and successful. Ready to settle down." I watched Bethany take copious notes as I evaluated Gavin like a prize pig. I remembered the special order lemon semifreddo and how considerate he was of my feelings. "He remembers all the little things and he makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside."
"Okay." Beth scribbled the last of the Pros in Gavin's column. "What stinks about him?"
"Well..." I opened my mind to an objective imagination of what life would be like with him. "He likes to plan. Likes to have things go his way. And he lives by routine. Things could get a little dull. And most of the time he's emotionally reserved."
"Not in touch with his feminine side, huh?" Fiona appeared to ponder my two lists, absently raising my drink to her lips and guzzling.
"Phelps?" Bethany prodded.
"Pros," Fiona gasped as she choked on the sour vodka.
"He's exciting. Surprising. Spontaneous." I smiled at the thought of whipping around Southampton on Daffy and cruising Lake Como after dark. "He's always up for fun and adventure. He shakes things up."
And when I thought about his kisses, my entire body burned.
Bethany grinned. "Not to mention he obviously lights your fire. Does he have any Cons?"
"Oh yes," I hastily answered. "He's reckless. Has no ambition or definitive plans for the future. And," I added, drawing out the word with extra importance, "he's younger than me."
"That should be a Pro." Fiona grinned wickedly.
"Where does this list get us, sugar?"
Bethany pushed the pink pad across the table. In her feminine script were outlined Gavin and Elliot in all their glories and flaws. The truth was, none if it made a difference. Feelings weren't something you could outline on a sheet of paper. They came from deep inside. That was where I would find my answer.
In the background I heard Fiona order another drink and sensed Bethany take the list and tuck it back into her purse.
Despondency sank its teeth into me, right into my heart.
Tears filled my eyes.
"What," Fiona asked, pushing the fresh Lemon Drop in front of me, "are you going to do?"
I stared at the drink as if I could find my answer there.
If only I could read ice cubes like fortunetellers read tea leaves. But in the end, all I saw was frozen water and vodka. And more problems than answers.
"Honestly," I said as I pushed the drink away, "I just don't know."
This was the hardest decision I had ever faced. In a perfect world I’d get to choose them both.
Who do you think Lydia should choose? Vote in this poll.
Q: What's the hardest thing about learning to rollerskate?
A: The pavement.
— Laffy Taffy Joke #59
No one spoke to me on the flight back to New York. Not that I was much up for conversation anyway. Ferrero was, understandably, not speaking to me. Janice and Kelly were mad at me on Ferrero's behalf.
Gavin and Elliot were standing by their ultimatum and avoiding me until I made my decision.
Since I had only myself for company, and I was pretty miserable company at that, I popped a pair of Nitol, found an empty row of seats in coach, and slept the entire flight.
I didn't wake up until a flight attendant shook me and asked me to prepare for landing. I just buckled in where I was and, by the time all the rows in front of me had disembarked and I got up to first class to grab my carry-on, all of my traveling companions were gone.
The only person I recognized at the baggage carousel was Ferrero's driver. He gave me a sympathetic smile as he shook his head and told me that I was instructed to find my own transport home.
As I waited my turn in the taxi line, I wasn't worried that Ferrero's wrath would last. It wasn't like I had lied and slandered him in public. He hadn't even specifically told me not to reveal his true identity. And he had been mad at me in the past. It never lasted.
I just hoped that Janice and Kelly would turn around as quickly as I knew he would.
Gavin and Elliot? Well, I knew how to solve that problem, I just didn't know which path to take.
"Ma'am," the taxi attendant shouted, "ma'am, you're next."
I moved to the last taxi in line, handing my suitcase to the driver just as my phone rang.
"West 76th," I instructed.
Sliding into the back of the cab, I answered my phone as the cabbie lurched out into the through lane.
"Hello?"
"Lydia, thank God," Mom cried just before she burst into tearful sobs.
"Mom," I yelled, trying to get her attention long enough to explain. "What's wrong? Has something happened? Has there been an accident?"
"It's y-your f-father," she stuttered.
"Daddy!" I shrieked. "What's happened to him? Is he okay?"
"He—oh God—he's," Mom wailed, "having an affair!"
"He's ha—" On the verge of tears, certain my father had been eaten by sharks or speared by a harpoon, I caught myself as I realized what she said. "An affair? Mom, what are you talking about?"
The notion that my father was having an affair—or, for that matter, interest in any woman but my mom—was preposterous. He was the most loving and devoted husband I had ever known.
"With the deck hand." Her sobs subsided and she spoke with only the occasional sniff. "She's a former M-miss Hawaiian Tropic."
"She's not a real deck hand?" I asked, more concerned for my parents' safety without an experienced sailor on board than with this notion of an affair.
"Yes, of course she is. She knows everything about the stupid boat."
I stifled my relieved whew, knowing Mom would not appreciate the sentiment. "Well, then, what makes you think he's having an affair? Did you catch them together?"
"No, but—"
"Has Dad been, um..." I hunted for the right word while trying to maintain my stomach contents. "Inattentive?"
"No, we're actually having more se—"
"Then why," I blurted before she could finish the sentence and send me into a decade of therapy, "do you think they're having an affair?"
"Because he-he-he gave her a nickname."
The last word ended on a plaintiff wail and, if it hadn't been the silliest statement of proof of infidelity in history, I might have been concerned.
"Mom," I said sharply, my tolerance for anyone else's problems Thin Mint thin at the moment, "listen to me. Dad is not having an affair. Now tell me what's really the matter."
Several silent moments passed before she quietly ventured, "I don't like sailing."
My shoulders sagged, thankful the problem was nothing worse than realizing she wasn't cut out for the life of a sailor. "That's not the end of the world."
"I know." Her voice already sounded better, all signs of tears gone. "It's just that your father seems to be enjoying himself and I'm miserable. I hate water. I hate the sun. And I especially hate the endless parade of canned foods I have to cook because our refrigerator is the size of an ice cube."
"Tell him that. He'll understand."
"Maybe you're right, but—"
"What if he feels the same way?" I offered. "What if he's just too proud to tell you his great retirement plan is a big flop? You'll never know if you don't talk it out."
Mom's sigh carried across hundreds of miles. "I know, it's just that... no, you're right. How did you get so smart?"
"Years of practice with other people's problems."
Too bad that experience didn't apply to my own.
"Is everything alright with you, dear? You sound a little worn down yourself."
For a split second I thought about gushing. Spouting out all the things that had gone wrong in the last few weeks and hoping that mothers really did have all the answers. But this was my life. My problems. I had to work them out on my own.
"Just jetlag." If only. A six hour time change was the least of my worries. "I just need a cup of hot tea and a good night's sleep."
"Alright," Mom said, sounding unsatisfied but recognizing that I wasn't looking for help, "call me when you're feeling better."
"Will do."
Hopefully, that would be sometime before the next ice age.
"You are a genius, Lydia."
I stared at the cordless receiver in my hand, wondering if my phone had some fancy new computer chip that allowed only bizarre calls to ring through.
"Ferrero?" I asked, incredulous that he would be calling me at all, let alone phoning to call me a genius.
"Pre-sales on the Fall collection are through the roof." His Italian accent was gone, South Jersey coming through loud and clear. "Thanks to you."
"What do you mean?"
Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I crawled out of bed and headed for the kitchen and mind-clearing cup of peppermint tea.
"Your publicity stunt worked," he continued. "The press ate it up like Godiva, plastering my name on every rag sheet from here to Tokyo."
"Publicity stunt?"
I squinted at the clock on my stove. 6:15. Maybe I needed to unplug my phone at night. None of these early morning conversations ever made sense.
"Denouncing my Italian identity at the after party in front of everyone." He sounded delighted. "Brilliant!"
"Ferrero, it's too early for this kind of confusion." I set a cup of hot water in the microwave and punched it on for ninety seconds. "What are you talking about?"
"Lydia, darling, every newspaper in the world covered my party—and my collection—because you outed me in public. There is no such thing as bad press. Our stock doubled over the weekend."
"Oh."
The microwave beeped and I rushed to pour the boiling water over the tea bag in my coffee mug. While it steeped I inhaled the wakening aroma of peppermint, praying it notched my alertness up a level.
"And it's not early," he added, "it's late."
Bent over the counter to sniff my tea, I had a closer view of the clock and made out the tiny P next to the time. Jetlag must have hit harder than I thought.
"So you're not mad at me anymore?" I deduced.
"Mad?" Ferrero squealed. "I adore you!"
"Oh." If I weren't so exhausted I might have been happy about that. "That's good."
Deeming my tea steeped enough to drink—and my brain desperate enough to endure weak tea—I swallowed a tingling gulp.
"Have you decided about the creative position?"
"The job? I didn't know the offer was still open."
"Of course it is."
Though peppermint was supposed to calm upset stomachs, mine clenched. Yet another decision to make.
"I'll let you know by Friday," I offered. By then my brain might have stopped spinning.
"So Ferrero loves you again?" Bethany asked.
When my enthusiasm level upon returning from Italy hadn't measured up, she and Fiona called an emergency Wednesday night meeting at Sweet Spot.
"Yes. He even still wants me to hire on as Accessories Designer."
"And Gavin still loves you?" Fiona tapped the stainless steel tabletop with a matching silver fingernail.
"Yes," I moaned. This was nothing I hadn't been over a billion times in the last two days. "He always has."
"Phelps too?" Bethany made a note on the rose-colored notepad in front of her.
"It's Elliot, actually."
"You call him by his last name?"
"No," I explained, throwing a scowl Fiona's way for not telling me in the first place, "his real name is Elliot Phelps. Phelps Elliot is just his professional name."
"Hey," Fiona returned, hands raised is a defensive gesture, "I didn't think it'd come up. How was I to know he would fall in love with you?"
"Anyway," Bethany interrupted, "Phelps or Elliot or whoever loves you too?"
I nodded. My eyes blurred as I stared at the untouched Lemon Drop on the table. Fiona was certain my problem was nothing that couldn't be solved by a girls night out and buckets of vodka. Noticing that my ice had melted, she grabbed the drink and headed for the bar.
"You love them both?" Beth's voice softened. "You're in love with them both?"
I nodded again.
"But they're so different."
"I know. That's why I love them both." My heart thudded in despair. "That's why I can't choose."
"Well, here's the deal," she asserted, laying it all out for me. "Either you choose one or you lose them both. So let's figure this out."
Fiona returned to the table and set down the glass as she sat. "Start with Pros and Cons. What's good about Gavin?"
"He's kind, considerate, and reliable. Established and successful. Ready to settle down." I watched Bethany take copious notes as I evaluated Gavin like a prize pig. I remembered the special order lemon semifreddo and how considerate he was of my feelings. "He remembers all the little things and he makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside."
"Okay." Beth scribbled the last of the Pros in Gavin's column. "What stinks about him?"
"Well..." I opened my mind to an objective imagination of what life would be like with him. "He likes to plan. Likes to have things go his way. And he lives by routine. Things could get a little dull. And most of the time he's emotionally reserved."
"Not in touch with his feminine side, huh?" Fiona appeared to ponder my two lists, absently raising my drink to her lips and guzzling.
"Phelps?" Bethany prodded.
"Pros," Fiona gasped as she choked on the sour vodka.
"He's exciting. Surprising. Spontaneous." I smiled at the thought of whipping around Southampton on Daffy and cruising Lake Como after dark. "He's always up for fun and adventure. He shakes things up."
And when I thought about his kisses, my entire body burned.
Bethany grinned. "Not to mention he obviously lights your fire. Does he have any Cons?"
"Oh yes," I hastily answered. "He's reckless. Has no ambition or definitive plans for the future. And," I added, drawing out the word with extra importance, "he's younger than me."
"That should be a Pro." Fiona grinned wickedly.
"Where does this list get us, sugar?"
Bethany pushed the pink pad across the table. In her feminine script were outlined Gavin and Elliot in all their glories and flaws. The truth was, none if it made a difference. Feelings weren't something you could outline on a sheet of paper. They came from deep inside. That was where I would find my answer.
In the background I heard Fiona order another drink and sensed Bethany take the list and tuck it back into her purse.
Despondency sank its teeth into me, right into my heart.
Tears filled my eyes.
"What," Fiona asked, pushing the fresh Lemon Drop in front of me, "are you going to do?"
I stared at the drink as if I could find my answer there.
If only I could read ice cubes like fortunetellers read tea leaves. But in the end, all I saw was frozen water and vodka. And more problems than answers.
"Honestly," I said as I pushed the drink away, "I just don't know."
This was the hardest decision I had ever faced. In a perfect world I’d get to choose them both.
Who do you think Lydia should choose? Vote in this poll.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Project 365: Days 16-30
Here's the next installment in my picture a day project.
And links to the full size images...
Hugs,
TLC
And links to the full size images...
- Day 16: Tealight Tray
- Day 17: Fiberoptic Nightlight
- Day 18: Coffee Mug at Eskimo Joe's
- Day 19: Red Hot Candy
- Day 20: Model Mannequins
- Day 21: Shiny Faucet Handle
- Day 23: The Corkboard
- Day 24: Fuzzy Dice
- Day 22: Daisy on Dad
- Day 25: Weathered Fence
- Day 26: Lamp Light Bulb
- Day 27: Gold Fingers
- Day 28: Subway Drink
- Day 29: Candle in the Sun
- Day 30: Dead-Edged Leaves
Hugs,
TLC
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Sweet Venom Cover Reveal Signup
Calling all bloggers...
Now that the title of the first Medusa girls book has been made public, it's time to share the cover. And let me tell you... it's breathtaking. Everyone who's seen it has gotten the shivers it's so good.
I want the whole world to see this cover, so I'm enlisting your help, gentle bloggers. I want to do a massive, blogosphere-wide reveal. Of course you'll get something more than just the knowledge that you're helping spread the word about an awesome book! Every blogger who participates will get some special swag: a batch of exclusive bookmarks to keep or give away.
Fill out the form below if you want to participate and I will be in touch soon with further details (and the blood oath of cover secrecy).
Check your inbox for a confirmation email and I'll send a follow-up soon with more details about the event.
Hugs,
TLC
ETA: I just found out the Fall catalog is going public at the end of the month, so we have to act fast. Sign up ASAP and I'll be in touch!
ETA2: The signup period is over. Check back February 15th for the reveal!
Now that the title of the first Medusa girls book has been made public, it's time to share the cover. And let me tell you... it's breathtaking. Everyone who's seen it has gotten the shivers it's so good.
I want the whole world to see this cover, so I'm enlisting your help, gentle bloggers. I want to do a massive, blogosphere-wide reveal. Of course you'll get something more than just the knowledge that you're helping spread the word about an awesome book! Every blogger who participates will get some special swag: a batch of exclusive bookmarks to keep or give away.
Fill out the form below if you want to participate and I will be in touch soon with further details (and the blood oath of cover secrecy).
Check your inbox for a confirmation email and I'll send a follow-up soon with more details about the event.
Hugs,
TLC
ETA: I just found out the Fall catalog is going public at the end of the month, so we have to act fast. Sign up ASAP and I'll be in touch!
ETA2: The signup period is over. Check back February 15th for the reveal!
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
The Snakes are Out of the Bag!
Now that the Medusa Girls Title Hunt is officially over, I can finally and publicly reveal the title of the book:
What do you think? Sound like a book you'd pick up in the store?
And since the title is public, I think it's time the cover is, too. But you know I don't just give you things... right? Check back tomorrow for more information about the Sweet Venom cover reveal.
Hugs
TLC
PS. For those of you on GoodReads, you can add Sweet Venom to your to-read shelf!
SWEET VENOM
What do you think? Sound like a book you'd pick up in the store?
And since the title is public, I think it's time the cover is, too. But you know I don't just give you things... right? Check back tomorrow for more information about the Sweet Venom cover reveal.
Hugs
TLC
PS. For those of you on GoodReads, you can add Sweet Venom to your to-read shelf!
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