The #Zombie #Apocalypse is here! Half a Million Dead Cannibals Zombie Survival Kit #Contest of much awesome

Posted on March 4, 2013 by Kari

Now Available ~ Half A Million Dead Cannibals

All that’s keeping Riley from the man he’s falling in love with are the ruins of a city filled with half a million dead cannibals.

Strangers, Riley and Graham sheltered together in a basement storage unit when the zombie outbreak slammed into the world three months ago. They lived through the first blast of the plague, but they may not last much longer among survivors scrambling for dwindling resources. They agree to hike from the city and to the safety of the mountains.

They don’t count on the storm they hoped would cover their exit developing into a Nor’easter, though, and they sure don’t think their visibility will shrink so badly that they’ll have to hike into the leading edge of a zombie swarm, either. In the chaos of escaping the ravenous horde, they are separated, with Graham racing toward feral dog packs to the east and Riley sprinting to hostile survivors hunting them to the west.

Nobody said finding and keeping a quality guy (alive) during the apocalypse would be easy.

Scroll down for a zombie-rific excerpt below. I’ve got loads of fun stuff in store to celebrate the release of Half a Million Dead Cannibals at Loose Id. But wait! There’s MOAR.

Dead Cannibals
Zombie Survival Kit Contest

LOOT! I haz LOOT!

And it couldn’t be easier to get a chance at winning said loot.

I’m saddened to report that, no, you didn’t make it through the apocalypse. Sorry about that. You are a zombie. So…who are you eating first?  Leave your answer in a comment of this post to be entered into the random drawing to win the fun stuff in the pic above and quite a bit MOAR.

Want another chance to win? Stop by and leave a comment on each of the 4 stops on my Dead Cannibals blog tour (deets below). Comments win you more chances at ze goodies (one chance for one comment at one guest blog stop per day) as well as a shot in random drawings at each stop in the tour for a Zombie Outbreak Response Team car decal of your very own. Still want more chances at the grand prize? If you’re a member of Goodreads, simply like my contest blog post there to add your name to the contest drawing again. On Facebook? Like it there, too, and you’ll get another entry into the contest. If you’re a Twitter fiend, retweet my contest announcement (look under the #DeadCannibals hashtag) and that’ll net you still another chance at winning the prize. The more you play, the more chances you’ll have to win the Zombie Survival Kit loot.

What, exactly, is in the Zombie Survival Kit? Because we all need a stockpile of smut for the apocalypse, winner’s choice of either:

My print book collection of titles
(Spoils of War, Plunder, I Omega & Collected Shorts, In the Red, I Don’t)
-OR-
a flash drive with my back list in pdf

The winner will also receive:
A World More Extraordinary tote bag
Half a Million Dead Cannibals LED keychain flashlight, notebook & pen

and

LOADS of fun & favorite zombie novelty items including
Zombie Outbreak Response Team T-shirt (sz L)
Zombie bottle opener (cutest undead tush you’ll ever see)
Zombie Outbreak Response Team car decal
Gummy Brains
Zombie IV bag (candy)
Vial of blood (candy)
Canned brains (real…gross!)
Zombie soap (smell fabulous during the apocalypse!)
Zombie energy drink
Umbrella Corp mints
Zombie gum (WTF?)

Sound like fun? Get your shot at wining the goodies by commenting on this, the first contest blog post, today!

Dead Cannibals Blog Tour

Want more chances at the Zombie Survival Kit? Or how about a chance to win one of these fun car decals:

Because the zombie apocalypse means EVERYBODY should run around like a nutter (including me), I’m off on a blog tour! Put on your crazy and join me for some wicked fun. Stop by at any or all of my tour spots, where I will be talking about the smexy fun of the zombie apocalypse, Half a Million Dead Cannibals, and giving away one of these decals at each stop on the tour:

Wednesday, March 6th: Joyfully Jay, “Top 5 Tricks & Tips for Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse”
Thursday, March 7th: Josh Lanyon’s blog, “Zombies ARE Sexy”
Friday, March 8th: Chicks & Dicks, “Zombies = Festival of F-U-N”
Saturday, March 9th: Lasha’s Paranormal M/M Reviews, “Top 10 Fave and Fabulous Zombies on the Net”

Then stop back at my website on Sunday, March 10th to YAY along with who won.

 

I hope all of you weather (ha ha) this new winter storm cozy & warm and I also hope you love Riley & Graham’s story about finding love (and each other) at the end of the world, in the worst of conditions. Yep, you CAN find the one who makes your heart beat faster — even during the zombie apocalypse.

Happy Reading!
Kari

EXCERPT

This wasn’t the first morning Riley awoke to Graham’s cock, carefully shielded behind twin layers of boxers, pressed into Riley’s ass. This wasn’t the first morning Riley had swum up from sleep to the prickle of Graham’s hand on his belly either. Graham usually woke eons before Riley did. Riley guessed the early hours were a carryover from Graham’s other life when he’d reported to job sites to pour concrete at dawn. Riley had been a waiter at Geo’s before the world ended. His flirty smile and pert ass had yielded bountiful tips from charmed customers, but those tips meant working late shifts at the club. The old Riley had rarely dragged his butt out of bed before noon.

Sometimes, Graham huddled with him under the blankets. As the days got shorter and colder, Graham wasn’t in a rush to exit a warm tent any faster than Riley. Spooned together, they shared body heat. The basement storage unit that sheltered them was insulated against the worst of mid-January’s arctic blast, so Riley and Graham were better off than other survivors in the city. As conventional heat sources ran out, people had foolishly and fatally risked exposure in search of scarce supplies to fight off hypothermia and secondary illnesses. None dared to build fires; smoke would draw zombies for miles. The emergency radio that consumed precious battery life to monitor every day had nonetheless crackled with pleas for medical supplies and fuel. Meanwhile, Riley and Graham snuggled together under toasty warm layers of sleeping bags.

It was three months after the plague. Neither of them talked about how little the radio chattered anymore.

And Graham lingered longer and longer in the cocoon of their bed.

This was the first morning Graham nuzzled Riley’s neck, though.

Riley squirmed, earning Graham’s open palm and splayed fingers at the top of his neatly trimmed treasure trail to hold him in place.

“You smell good.” Graham resumed sniffing Riley’s throat. “Why do you always smell so good?”

Because Riley made it his business to look good and smell fantastic, that’s why. As soon as they’d secured their shelter and acquired a source of fresh water on the roof of the building, Riley had started hoarding. Recon missions to forage supplies were fertile with opportunities to feel human again. A bottle of nail polish wasn’t much weight to carry, and once Graham acclimated to his survival buddy being gay, he’d tolerated and then indulged Riley’s quirks. That first sly bottle of nail polish had been followed by lotions to soften his dry skin, eyeliner, and shower gel that smelled like spice. What else was he supposed to do to fill the hours except shiver?

Graham read. For a blue-collar construction worker, the guy plowed through books like crazy—everything from spy thrillers to romance novels. Whatever books they’d found in the building, Graham read. And read. And read.

Riley invested his time in manicures, pedicures, and whatever else might consume the quiet hours. Anything to feel normal again.

“It’s the new shower gel,” Riley said. “You can use it too, if you want.”

Graham snorted, his hot breath tickling Riley’s neck.

Yeah, Riley hadn’t thought so either. Graham was the cake-of-soap kind. While Riley had been ecstatic at the home waxing kit he’d discovered in the apartments in the building above them, Graham had skipped shaving altogether. The bristle of his beard scraped Riley’s hypersensitive skin in the most delicious ways.

“You going to let me borrow your nail polish next, Riley?”

Graham wasn’t mean about it. Even in the beginning, his voice had never been cruel or cutting. He didn’t sneer like other men—especially gay men—had, even before the world went to hell. He’d been alternately fascinated with and mystified by Riley, and that was exactly how Riley liked it. “No. The nail polish is mine.” Smothering laughter, he elbowed Graham’s stomach. “Get your own.”

Graham grunted and continued those slow, steady strokes across Riley’s abdomen guaranteed to make Riley’s morning erection leak. He just petted Riley and held him, never pushing it further. Though Riley had repeatedly offered Graham his mouth and his ass, the man didn’t grope. Disappointing but not entirely surprising. Graham was straight, after all.

Riley never stopped hoping.

“I was up earlier,” Graham said. “Heard movement on the street when a crowd of them went after a stray dog.”

Riley shuddered. Abandoned by their owners when the plague hit, dogs were more dangerous than zombies these days. Packs hunted the streets for rats and other vermin after dark when the undead were less active, taking down whatever prey they cornered. Riley and Graham hadn’t dared leave the shelter after sunset in weeks. One less dog was great news. “Okay.”

“Walkers are slower now that it’s cold. They aren’t decomposing anymore, so most are still mobile, but even the newer zombies can’t run. I watched them take that dog down. A month ago, no problem, but they wouldn’t have managed to corner the dog today if it hadn’t been injured.”

Anxiety coiled in the stomach Graham caressed. “We’re too close to the harbor,” Riley said, returning to the same tired arguments. “There are too many of them between us and the suburbs.” Which would be worse. At least in the city, they had more places to hide. “We’ll never make it.”

“We can’t stay here.” Graham sighed into Riley’s neck. “If zombies don’t get us—”

“I know.”

And Riley did know. He’d spied the city with Graham from upper-story windows and watched occasional roaming herds of undead pack the streets below. He too had seen zombies swarm a shelter two blocks away. He and Graham had realized other survivors were nearby weeks ago, just as those survivors had doubtlessly been aware of them. They’d known, for instance, that those survivors had included kids, because a mom-and-pop grocery a block east had shelves denuded of crayons and cheap toys. Though Riley and Graham had searched, they hadn’t pinpointed the survivors’ location until zombies had massed around a bakery storefront last month. More and more infected had lurched from surrounding neighborhoods until they’d gathered hundreds if not thousands deep. Wood had cracked under the relentless pressure, and the sharp rat-a-tat of gunfire had joined the thunderous moaning of the infected. Then the screams.

That could’ve been him and Graham. If they stayed in the city, one day it would be.

Graham and Riley had learned to stay quiet. Neither of them had recognized how lucky they’d been when they’d scrambled down the basement stairs in the alley last fall. Riley had initially joined a group of survivors sprinting toward the harbor in hopes a boat might carry him out of the city. He hadn’t crossed more than a dozen blocks when he’d spotted columns of smoke billowing to spoil the sky above where the docks should be.

The harbor was lost.

Staying with that group would’ve only gotten him dead faster. The others made too much noise, attracting zombies like a clamoring dinner bell. So he’d split away, fleeing down a side street. Riley had squeezed into a skinny opening between buildings to escape, and once the horde had cleared, he’d shuffled side to side in the tight space until the opening widened.

A six-and-a-half-foot mountain of a guy had crushed the skull of a lone zombie while Riley stumbled from the narrow gap into an alley. That man—Graham—had pivoted at the new threat, crowbar already swinging.

Unlike other survivors whose clothes had been splashed with blood and gore, Riley’s Sweet & Sassy work T-shirt had gleamed white, and that was what had saved his life. Zombies weren’t clean. Zombies were bloody, gruesome, and gross. Survivors too. They fired guns and pummeled with weapons, which spattered blood swimming with contagion that seeped into the slightest paper cut. Graham avoided infection by wearing countless layers of clothes, hats, and gloves that covered him from head to steel-toed foot, and he stripped off any contaminated layers as soon as he destroyed a zombie he couldn’t flee from. Riley was smart. He didn’t fight. He ran, and because he was quick, he hadn’t been infected by a bite or spattered in gore battling the undead.

Graham had shifted off-balance to deflect the blow he’d directed at Riley. They’d both winced at the clang of metal hitting the brick building inches over Riley’s undented skull. The racket was sure to attract zombies moaning on the main thoroughfare.

“Here.” Graham had jerked his chin at a pair of Dumpsters partially blocking a set of gritty steps leading down.

They’d scrambled for the stairs and hunkered there. Panting, hearts pounding, they’d waited, but easier prey on the street kept them safe. Graham had used the crowbar to pry open the door at the bottom of the stairs, and they’d crept warily into the dark of the basement.

They’d never left it.

Why leave? The basement was dirty and dank, but also defendable. The space had been sectioned into compartments accessible by a hall with all the doors locked with sturdy dead bolts. The section they’d found was the storeroom of a bar. Cases of beer and boxes of liquor reached as high as Riley’s shoulders, and at six feet, Riley wasn’t short. A narrow path through the boxes led to a walk-in cooler. Someone—something—pounded on the door to get out, but the door to the bar upstairs had been barricaded. All was quiet on the other side. No zombies streaked down the hallway leading to the other rooms after they’d pried the door wide to explore the rest of the basement either.

Best of all, the few windows and doors to the dangerous outside world had been boarded up, an oddity Riley had puzzled over until they’d cracked open the residential storage unit at the center of the basement. Armed with a baseball bat fetched from the bar’s storeroom, Riley had swung at the flash of motion that emerged. The unit’s thick, insulated walls had hidden a family of five, each of them infected. He and Graham had fought for frantic minutes, but no matter how close they both had come to dying, Riley had been grateful for that doomed family for three solid months. Their disaster preparations had saved his and Graham’s lives. Once they’d caved in the family’s heads and taken care of the zombie in the walk-in cooler, they’d stripped and disposed of the clothes they’d fought in. Better safe than sorry. Then they’d examined one another for contagious blood spatter. They’d doused their hands and splashed their faces with liquor from the bar.

They’d both already learned the wisdom of paranoia.

But they’d avoided infection. The area was secure—better than secure. They had a fortified shelter. The family’s storage unit had been outfitted with camping gear to operate as an inner bunker. They had cisterns on the roof to collect rainwater with cases of bottled water as backup. They had an emergency radio and food. They even had a gun and boxes of shells. Noisy gunfire attracted zombies for miles, of course, but Graham still kept the 9 mm tucked into the waistband of his jeans. Just in case.

They’d lasted three months thanks to that infected family’s small stock of supplies, but also because they’d stayed quiet. Deathly quiet. When herds of zombies shambled into their block, climbing through broken windows in the bar and the souvenir shop occupying the building’s street level, he and Graham closed the door on the storage unit and waited the swarm out. Same for the survivors who’d broken in to steal liquor last month.

They were surrounded and outnumbered.

So they stayed silent and invisible.

It was the only way.

“Leaving the city is our best shot,” Graham said.

Riley knew that too, but he wriggled against Graham’s crotch anyway.

Graham’s grip halted him. “You gotta piss?”

Riley scowled over his shoulder. “No.”

Graham’s lips curved. “Then stop.”

When Graham smacked his ass, Riley jerked. “Hey!”

“Always thinking with your dick,” Graham grumbled, but he didn’t move away. He never did.

Bastard.

Tease.

Bi-curious?

“Focus, Riley.” Graham snickered. “We need to leave the city.”

Riley scowled because Graham also looped his arm tighter around Riley’s stomach. How could the man expect Riley to be capable of rational thought while those fingertips played with the springs of hair that he had left after painful hours of manscaping? Graham hadn’t toyed with his body hair until Riley had removed most of it, so the temporary hurt had been worth his trouble, at least. The man was attracted to him. Just not attracted enough. Trying to distract him too. Trying? No, succeeding. Graham was no fool. He knew how to sway Riley to get what he wanted.

Too bad Riley wouldn’t make it that easy. “If we wait another month,” he mumbled, arching into Graham’s warm hand, “when it’s colder—”

“The others will find us by then.” Graham patted Riley’s abdomen. “They’re foraging more thoroughly and in our direction now, building by building.”

Riley’s breath caught.

“They don’t accept intruders in their territory. Or squatters. You saw what they did.”

No, Riley hadn’t seen. He’d refused to see. He’d slapped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut when a blond just a few years older than him had been tossed, bound and naked, into the street—their street. He hadn’t heard the taunting catcalls and shouts to draw the zombies to the fresh prey either.

He most definitely had not heard the blond’s agonized screams.

He would go right on not hearing it for the rest of his life.

“So,” Graham said, fingering the hair on Riley’s stomach, “you’re going to pick your favorite nail polish and lip gloss. Stash them and one other luxury item in your pack. You’ll dress in formfitting layers, nothing loose that zombies can grab. We’ll leave in half an hour. All right?”

Riley gulped. The last thing he wanted to do was hike open ground. What if Graham was hurt? Killed? What if they met friendlier survivors, and Graham decided Riley was too much trouble and didn’t want him anymore? But life had stopped asking what Riley wanted when the plague struck three months ago. They’d done well to make it as long as they had in the city, where other survivors competing for dwindling resources had become as dangerous as the undead. No matter how much his gut knotted at leaving the basement that had sheltered them, Riley knew Graham was right. Leaving was their only chance.

“Okay.”

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 52 Comments

Half a Million Dead Cannibals…the book trailer

Posted on February 27, 2013 by Kari

Since I got my intro to zombie fandom with George Romero’s Day of the Dead, creating a book trailer for Half a Million Dead Cannibals was a moral imperative.

 

Enjoy! And don’t forget to post a comment for your chance at the random drawing for a digital copy of Half a Million Dead Cannibals here.

Remember — When I come back as a zombie, I’M EATING YOU FIRST! Start looking over your shoulder for Undead Kari on March 5th. 🙂

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Giveaway ~ Half a Million Dead Cannibals

Posted on February 26, 2013 by Kari

Zombies are coming, dudes. Are you ready? Are you suuuuuuuuuuuuuuure? Because I’m here to tell you that your ereader is singularly lacking in some quality smut to entertain you during the end of the world — my Half a Million Dead Cannibals, for instance, releasing next Week at Loose Id.

All that’s keeping Riley from the man he’s falling in love with are the ruins of a city filled with half a million dead cannibals.

Strangers, Riley and Graham sheltered together in a basement storage unit when the zombie outbreak slammed into the world three months ago. They lived through the first blast of the plague, but they may not last much longer among survivors scrambling for dwindling resources. They agree to hike from the city and to the safety of the mountains. They didn’t count on the storm they hoped would cover their exit developing into a Nor’easter, though, and they sure didn’t think their visibility would shrink so badly that they’d hike into the leading edge of a zombie swarm, either. In the chaos of escaping the ravenous horde, they are separated, with Graham racing toward feral dog packs to the east and Riley sprinting to hostile survivors hunting them to the west.

Nobody said finding and keeping a quality guy (alive) during the apocalypse would be easy.

Woo baby! And playing along could get your grubby mitts on a digital copy for FREE. Here’s how: Name one (other) possibly bizarre item you absolutely MUST have in your apocalypse survival stash. That’s it. Easy, no? Could be Nutella. Could be lube. But whatever it is, you’ll never find it on a disaster preppers’ checklist. (Very much to those preppers’ future regret!) Leave your answer in a comment below by 12:01 AM EST on Dead Cannibals‘ release day, March 5th, to be entered into a random drawing for one digital copy of Half a Million Dead Cannibals to complete your zombie apocalypse collection o’ smut.

Wait.

Whut?

You don’t have a zombie apocalypse collection o’ smut? Dude, that is so very, very wrong, but no worries. Keep your eyes right here for a kick-ass contest on Dead Cannibals‘ release day that will stock you up for the end of the world in fine form! And in the meantime, comment below with your oddballs survival kit necessity for your chance at Dead Cannibals.

The zombie plague is coming, dudes. Rock on. 😉

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 13 Comments

Half a Million Dead Cannibals…coming March 5th!

Posted on February 25, 2013 by Kari

Alrighty, folks! Got my final cover so it’s finally time to trot that bad boy out. Behold!

All that’s keeping Riley from the man he’s falling in love with are the ruins of a city filled with half a million dead cannibals.

Strangers, Riley and Graham sheltered together in a basement storage unit when the zombie outbreak slammed into the world three months ago. They lived through the first blast of the plague, but they may not last much longer among survivors scrambling for dwindling resources. They agree to hike from the city and to the safety of the mountains. They didn’t count on the storm they hoped would cover their exit developing into a Nor’easter, though, and they sure didn’t think their visibility would shrink so badly that they’d hike into the leading edge of a zombie swarm, either. In the chaos of escaping the ravenous horde, they are separated, with Graham racing toward feral dog packs to the east and Riley sprinting to hostile survivors hunting them to the west.

Nobody said finding and keeping a quality guy (alive) during the apocalypse would be easy.

Keep your heads up, dudes! The book trailer will be coming soon. In the meantime, tune into my Twitter account or the #DeadCannibals hashtag for my wicked fun absolute favorite zombie links and lines from Half a Million Dead Cannibals. Zombies on the brain, nom nom nom!

Happy reading!
Kari

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

Are you ready for the zombie apocalypse? ~ Half a Million Dead Cannibals

Posted on February 17, 2013 by Kari

Heya, guys! As you may have noticed, I went to ground in January and February to work, work, work. The results? Half a Million Dead Cannibals, my M/M zombie apocalypse, is set to release March 5th at Loose Id!

All that’s keeping Riley from the man he’s falling in love with are the ruins of a city filled with half a million dead cannibals.

Strangers, Riley and Graham sheltered together in a basement storage unit when the zombie outbreak slammed into the world three months ago. They lived through the first blast of the plague, but they may not last much longer among survivors scrambling for dwindling resources. They agree to hike from the city and to the safety of the mountains. They didn’t count on the storm they hoped would cover their exit developing into a Nor’easter, though, and they sure didn’t think their visibility would shrink so badly that they’d hike into the leading edge of a zombie swarm, either. In the chaos of escaping the ravenous horde, they are separated, with Graham racing toward feral dog packs to the east and Riley sprinting to hostile survivors hunting them to the west.

Nobody said finding and keeping a quality guy (alive) during the apocalypse would be easy.

I should have my awesomest of awesome cover for your look-see as well as a kick-ass book trailer to entertain you vera, vera soon. As always, if you haven’t signed up for my newsletter (see right menu bar anywhere on ye website) to get in on the random subscriber prize drawing, please do so by March 4th, latest. You can also look forward to the pre-release giveaway starting the week before Dead Cannibals releases AND a fantastic contest launching on release day. Who wouldn’t want a Zombie Survival Kit, right? Preparing for the zombie apocalypse is your civic duty, dudes. Just sayin.

Don’t need no zombie survival crap? Are you positive? Take this quiz to find out your odds of becoming a zombie horde’s tasty canape.

If you are full of fail, just to prove what a pal I am, I’ll share these Ten Worst Things to Do in a Zombie Outbreak to help you out.

I would be woefully remiss if I didn’t tell you about my sooper speshul zombie drinking game to get your party on while we await the coming plague. Real simple. Watch any Resident Evil movie and anytime anyone says “Umbrella” or you see the Umbrella logo, drink. I don’t recommend doing this with zombie mix. It may look like blue koolaid, but trust me, you’ll be on your ass before the body count hits double digits. Depending on which movie you go for, you may not even make it through the opening credits. (Word to the wise.)

In the meantime, keep on eye out right here for more on Half a Million Dead Cannibals, follow me (or the #DeadCannibals hashtag) on Twitter & Facebook for zombie outbreak survival tips as well as assorted zombie fun plus line teases from Dead Cannibals, and add Dead Cannibals to your shelves on Goodreads.

Happy reading!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Twas the week before Christmas…

Posted on December 17, 2012 by Kari

Got your shopping done yet? The stockings are hung? Any catastrophic no-bake cookie fails or am I just lucky that way? No visits from the fire department at my house so I’m calling that a win. 😉

To help put the ho in your holidays, I’ve set coupon code ZR24V for I Don’t: A Christmas Wish at Smashwords so you can get I Don’t for $2.50 — or a buck fifty off the list price. YAY!

Also a big ole woot from me for the many reviews that have rolled in…

I enjoyed these guys a lot and found the story laced with enough quirky humor (porno gingerbread men anyone?) to keep it from being sad or discouraging. Joyfully Jay

A lot of things happen in this story, some of them hilarious, some tender, some hot, but all lead to one inescapable conclusion: Marriage, and the respect for it, is important to so many people…The story is sweet, told from Seth’s perspective, and unfolds nicely. Thank you Ms. Gregg for a sweet (and well told) story. Mrs. Condit & Friends Read Books

With characters I could easily read more about, a plot that is memorable, and a story that is truthful and funny, I think reading this story may become one of my Christmas traditions. Top 2 Bottom Reviews

…if you like characters with flaws and quirks to match those of the real people you know, and if you’re looking for a story about the meaning of love and commitment in a Christmas-time setting, you will probably love this short book as much as I did. Rainbow Book Reviews

Seth narrates the story, and he is charming. He has moments of real humor, and I smiled a lot reading his narration. Seth, because we’re in his head the entire time, is a breathing, hurting character who is easy to empathize with. He isn’t comprised of hurt and relationship agony, either. There are moments that he smiles and laughs, even though he’s worried about his relationship, and hurting constantly that Owen and he might be breaking up…the question of “what happens when marriage is an option when it hadn’t been before” became a conflict between Seth and Owen that was layered and thought provoking. Smart Bitches Trashy Books

WOOT!

Also, another wahoo from me and an early prezzie under my Christmas tree — a shiny new contract! I signed my m/m zombie apocalypse story, Half a Million Dead Cannibals, with Loose Id. You can read a rough blurb of the story on my WIP/Coming Soon page. When I know more, so will you. 😀

Wishing you all the best this holiday season…

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I haz a guest! Lisa Henry on Nonconsent, Dubious Consent, & a #Giveaway

Posted on December 7, 2012 by Kari

Lisa Henry and I tend to write to similar themes so we decided it’d be fun to swap blogs for a day (I’ll be at Lisa’s answering questions & giving away a copy of I Don’t tomorrow!) so without further ado…

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Non Consent and Dubious Consent

I make no apologies for liking non-con and dub-con in my m/m erotic romance. I read a lot of it, and I’ve written some. Not everyone likes it, and that’s okay. I’m not going to browbeat you into reading a book where a guy is forced, coerced, or otherwise intimidated into sexual submission. But I’m also not going to pretend it doesn’t push a few of my kinky buttons. And yes, I’ll take a side of humiliation with that order of submission, thankyou.

Men are hard-wired to establish a pack order. In m/m erotica I love the power struggles, the relationship between violence and sex, and the displays of domination and submission. It works on an almost primal level, so it’s no accident that some of the best dub-con stuff out there involves alpha werewolves or shifters. Hello, I, Omega!

I think that the understandable difficulty some people have with non-con and dub-con is establishing a line between the fantasy and the reality.

The Make-Me Fantasy

Make no mistake. Non-con and dub-con in erotic romance is pure fantasy. The rape element is not rape at all, not in the context of the fantasy. It’s about being dominated and controlled. It sounds counter-intuitive, but it’s actually about freedom. It’s about the freedom to revel in being made to feel what you otherwise wouldn’t dare. It’s about being forced to admit to desires you would otherwise suppress.

The Reality

I have friends who can’t stand dub-con or non-con — not for the content, but for the tendency in erotic romance to turn what is essentially a rape into love. They would happily read a dub-con or a non-con without the HEA — hoping the alpha male gets a bullet in the head instead — and this is a perfectly valid response to the issue. Because in real life, it’s rape, it’s abuse, and you should get the hell out.

In my real life job I’ve said this a million times: You need to get out of this situation.

But he loves me.

No. You need to get out.

Relationships built on abuse, in the real world, are toxic. In the real world the reasons people love their abusers complex and tragic, and should never be mistaken for romantic. That’s why I think that non-con and dub-con, marketed at adult readers, are much less worrying than the books that teenage girls devour where some creepy, possessive boy stalking you equates to love. I think those are far more insidious given the target audience, but that’s probably a discussion for another day.

Tribute vs The Island

My first two books are dub-con and non-con: Tribute, and The Island. Tribute is the fantasy. Inexperienced virgin-with-guys young prince gets taken as —Kari, can I say “spoils of war” without breaching your copyright? — a political hostage by the older, dominant alpha male warlord. The alpha male breaks him, and in the end he likes it.

But for every scene I wrote, there was a small but persistent voice in the back of my mind that kept saying, “But in real life…”

And that’s where the very non-con The Island came from. Similar set up, but in a real world setting: a young guy gets captured by a crime lord. The crime lord breaks him. Except it’s for real. Lee doesn’t get off on it, except where it amuses his captor to humiliate him, and he doesn’t fall in love with the guys who hurt him. Lee doesn’t experience anything except terror and pain. And there was no way that I was going to give him his happy ending through any of the men who had hurt him because not one of them was redeemable. Enter Shaw, the morally ambiguous hero of the piece who seems like a prick to sit back and watch it happen, but might also enough of a decent guy to stand up for Lee in the end.

He Is Worthy

My third book, He Is Worthy is set in Ancient Rome. Again, because I went for realism over the fantasy, the torture and abuse of Aenor the slave isn’t a part of some make-me fantasy. A lot of it is pure non-con. It’s not pretty, and it’s not titillating, because it’s real. It was great fun to write something set in Ancient Rome because I’ve always loved that period in history, but I didn’t want to use it as just a colourful backdrop to a make-me fantasy. The things that Nero does to his slaves — dresses up as a wild animal and attacks them with claws, turns them into human torches, and castrates his pretty “favourite” all happened to real human beings and I didn’t want to diminish that.

Dark Space

In my latest release Dark Space, both my guys are damaged. Both have been victims of rape, under very different circumstances, and both have responded in very different ways. Brady, the narrator, carries a lot of anger and a lot of hurt. And when Cam and Brady play at light bondage and domination, it’s absolutely consensual. And it was also fun to play with the imbalance of power between the officer, Cam, and the enlisted recruit, Brady.

I didn’t realize my breathing was so fast and shallow until Cam laid a hand on my back between my shoulder blades. “Shoulders back. Chest out. It’s not your first day, is it, recruit?”

I swallowed and pulled my shoulders back as far as I could manage without pain. “No, sir.”

It was a game. It was just a game. He couldn’t really pull rank on me. Not like this. But it felt real, and I wanted it to be real. I wanted Cam to take control, to tell me what to do and then praise me for doing it. I wanted it, and I hated it. Most of all I wanted to cry, and I didn’t know why. My throat ached, and there were tears just waiting to come. My entire body was on edge.

Brady and Cam have a different dynamic, and, apart from the difference in rank that doesn’t hold for long behind closed doors, a much more equal relationship than any of my previous pairings. Which isn’t to say some bad shit doesn’t go down — as a writer I’m a total sadist — just that it comes from external forces. And, most importantly, both Brady and Cam understand that they’re playing, that it’s a fantasy, and that it’s safe.

I will continue to write dub-con and non-con, because it’s a subject that I like to explore and a lot of readers like to explore it as well. People will always have different limits on what they want to read, how many dark places they want to go in a story, but I think we’re entering dangerous territory if all dub-con and non-con is considered somehow wrong, as though it promotes or glorifies rape and violence. And whatever your personal position — and I’ve got no desire to change your opinion — to view dub-con and non-con that way, I think, is an over-simplification of the issues it explores.

Thanks for having me on your blog, Kari! To say thanks, I’d like to offer a free copy of my latest ebook Dark Space to a commenter. Entries close in a week, after which I’ll get a monkey to pull a random name out of a hat.

The monkey is my nephew Tom. I shall supply the hat.

Oh! And is this where I put the blurb for Dark Space? I’m totally going to put the blurb here:

Brady Garrett needs to go home. He’s a conscripted recruit on Defender Three, one of a network of stations designed to protect the Earth from alien attack. He’s also angry, homesick, and afraid. If he doesn’t get home he’ll lose his family, but there’s no way back except in a body bag.



Cameron Rushton needs a heartbeat. Four years ago Cam was taken by the Faceless — the alien race that almost destroyed Earth. Now he’s back, and when the doctors make a mess of getting him out of stasis, Brady becomes his temporary human pacemaker. Except they’re sharing more than a heartbeat: they’re sharing thoughts, memories, and some very vivid dreams.



Not that Brady’s got time to worry about his growing attraction to another guy, especially the one guy in the universe who can read his mind. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just biochemistry and electrical impulses. It doesn’t change the truth: Brady’s alone in the universe.



Now the Faceless are coming and there’s nothing anyone can do. You can’t stop your nightmares. Cam says everyone will live, but Cam’s probably a traitor and a liar like the military thinks. But that’s okay. Guys like Brady don’t expect happy endings.

You can buy Dark Space at Loose Id, Amazon, or ARe.

And you can find my blog here, or catch up with me on Twitter or Goodreads.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

All right, y’all. Put on your happy and comment below by 11:59 PM EST on Friday, December 14th for YOUR shot at a copy of Dark Space!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 17 Comments

The Next Big Thing Blog Hop

Posted on December 6, 2012 by Kari

Pardon my ginormous fangirl squee – Josh Lanyon tagged me in “The Next Big Thing” blog hop with the answers to his ten questions for Blood Red Butterfly last week so it’s now my turn to answer questions! But before I do, if you haven’t found out about Josh’s WIP, GO NOW. And take a few minutes to read the Christmas Codas Josh is posting this month on his blog as Christmas prezzies — sigh-inspiring scenes between our favorite characters from Josh’s books! Awesome, awesome, awesome!

Anyhoo, I just released my holiday romantic comedy, I Don’t: A Christmas Wish and since my head’s still in that oh so happy world, I’m just going to run with that here…

The ten questions are:

1. What is the working title of your book?

I Don’t: A Christmas Wish

At least he isn’t pregnant.

Seth Murphy campaigned for Maryland’s Question Six, wildly celebrating the Election Day victory for marriage equality. Divorce attorney and live-in boyfriend Owen, however, believes just as passionately that the gay community should focus on a plurality of equal rights protections instead of allocating so many resources and man-hours to one hot button issue.

Owen won’t marry Seth.

Relationship deteriorating, the couple visits the Murphy farm outside Brunswick for Christmas. Seth’s family never considered that Seth and Owen wouldn’t be first in line for a marriage license as soon as same-sex marriage passed. When they find out there won’t be a wedding, their season of miracles is invaded by pornographic gingerbread cookies, frowning church ladies, and a determined father with a tactical assault shotgun.

Neither Seth, Owen, nor their love may survive the family holiday circus to say, “I don’t.”

(Also available at ARe, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, and in print!)

2. Where did the idea come from for the book?

I live in West Virginia, but we’re just a stone’s throw from the Maryland border and do pretty much everything in Maryland. So even before Question Six and same-sex marriage made it onto the ballot for Election Day, I’d been embroiled in months of conversations, inevitably leading to thoughtless & insulting remarks — many from people I’d considered dear friends. By early summer, I desperately needed a way to process the Question Six debate that was fun, hopeful, and absolutely nothing like what I was dealing with. Like my hero Seth, I didn’t dare to hope we would win, but I needed to believe. Badly. And I needed to laugh.

3. What is the genre of the book?

M/M romantic comedy. Oh, and a holiday story too. Ho ho ho

4. Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

I don’t (hardee har har) keep a tally of actors to compare my characters against as I roll a story along. My heroes each just sort of look like themselves. But if I have to pick…Ryan Gosling for Seth. Michael Fassbender for Owen.

5. What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

After same-sex marriage is voted into law, activist Seth wants to marry live-in boyfriend and divorce attorney Owen, who passionately believes LGBT resources should be focused on other equal rights protections, but when Seth’s outrageous family scrambles to change Owen’s mind, even Seth may be forced to say, “I don’t.”

But this is more fun:

Shotgun wedding? At least he isn’t pregnant.

😀

6. Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency/publisher?

This is my first non-promo self-published title. Considering the story was contingent upon same-sex marriage winning the popular vote (which had never happened before) in Maryland, pitching this story to one of my publishers after Election Day, yet in time for the Christmas holiday season….uh no, that wasn’t ever going to work, LOL. My publishers would’ve done obscene things to voodoo dolls in my likeness and justifiably so. I wasn’t willing to let this story whither on the vine, though — Necessity, thy name is Self-pub.

7. How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

Oh geez, I don’t know. I started developing it last summer? I kept telling myself that I needed to work on other things. This wasn’t supposed to ever see the light of day. But I kept returning to I Don’t whenever I needed a pick-me-up, which was often. It didn’t occur to me that — HOLY COW, we WON, YAY! YAY! YAY! — I could run with this story until probably a week after the election. Then, I was thanking God I’d invested so much time playing hooky to write, revise, and scrub I Don’t into shape, you bet.

8. What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

There are a lot of m/m holiday stories out this year, a sweet selection of great holiday reads for m/m fans. I wouldn’t dare compare myself or I Don’t with any of those stories and writers, but of the treasure chest of holiday stories, I especially liked outrageously fun goodies from K.A. Mitchell (Wish List — fangirl SQUEE #2, LOL) and L.C. Chase (Mister Romance). Stories involving same-sex marriage, though? I really have no idea. Most of the time I write what I do because I can’t find what I want on the market or because I want MOAR. To date, I’ve never seen a RomCom in which one hero is an activist for s/s marriage while his hero 2 (for whatever reason) is morally opposed. Doesn’t mean those books aren’t out there. I’ve just never seen them.

9. Who or what inspired you to write this book?

LGBTQ friends, family, and acquaintances in Maryland who persevered in spite of the signs, rallies, and campaign slogans. All the people who cried along with me on Election night. The couples who announced their engagement as soon as the vote was called and the ones who are getting married at 12:01 on New Years Day. Doesn’t get much more romantic and inspiring than that.

10. What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

Although Seth’s family is very, very loosely based on how wild and crazy my family can at times be, the cookie and wooden spoon gigs in the story are totally made up, never happened. Same goes for the shotgun. My older brother almost blew my foot off once, though, and instead shot a hole in our living room floor. I’M STILL LOOKING AT YOU, BRO. Unloaded, my ass.

 

I’ve tagged other writers with The Next Big Thing so be sure to check in with Madeline Ribbon, J.A. Rock, Dev Bentham, Valentina Heart, and Trista Ann Michaels on December 13th. So stay tuned for lots more good stuff!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

New Release ~ I Don’t: A Christmas Wish…and Giveaway Winner!

Posted on December 1, 2012 by Kari

Congrats!

The giveaway winner, chosen at random by one of my kids (LOL), is Andrea M.. Check your email, dude! And I hope you like I Don’t.

For everyone else…

I Don’t: A Christmas Wish released today and is available at: Amazon, ARe, and Smashwords. And should be at Barnes and Noble within a day or two. (ETA: Here ya go.) You can also get a POD print edition of I Don’t for $6 at Amazon and less than $4 at B&N.

I hope you like Seth and Owen’s holiday journey through Crazytown as much as I enjoyed writing it. 😀

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

#Giveaway ~ I Don’t: A Christmas Wish

Posted on November 24, 2012 by Kari

Hiya, guys! Hope your Turkey Day was fantastic and that you’re having a blast gearing up for the holidays. As it happens, I’ve been sooper seekritly gearing up for the holidays–the Christmas holiday season–for a bit now and will have a new release coming out next week to liven up your December:

 

At least he isn’t pregnant.

Seth Murphy campaigned for Maryland’s Question Six, wildly celebrating the Election Day victory for marriage equality. Divorce attorney and live-in boyfriend Owen, however, believes just as passionately that the gay community should focus on a plurality of equal rights protections instead of allocating so many resources and man-hours to one hot button issue.

Owen won’t marry Seth.

Relationship deteriorating, the couple visits the Murphy farm outside Brunswick for Christmas. Seth’s family never considered that Seth and Owen wouldn’t be first in line for a marriage license as soon as same-sex marriage passed. When they find out there won’t be a wedding, their season of miracles is invaded by pornographic gingerbread cookies, frowning church ladies, and a determined father with a tactical assault shotgun.

Neither Seth, Owen, nor their love may survive the family holiday circus to say, “I don’t.”

 

I Don’t is a 24K m/m holiday RomCom. Yes, you read that right — Romantic Comedy. 😀 And a story very dear to my heart because Seth and Owen, my heroes, grapple with the history-making Question Six vote in Maryland, which passed same-sex marriage by popular referendum. Which was my wish for this holiday season. Turns out it was Seth’s wish too. Sucks that Owen’s being such a butthead, no? 😉

So, what do you want for Christmas? If money was no object? Please, no “world peace” beauty pageant contestant answers; bring out your Madame Greedy! I’ll even start you off. If money were no object, for Christmas this year, I’d love a reason to apply for my passport: a week in England. Leave a comment below by 11:59 PM on Friday, November 30th, with YOUR Christmas wish for this holiday season and you’ll be entered into a drawing for a free ebook copy of I Don’t. Sound good? Cool. While you’re waiting to see if you won the book, how about a peek? Excerpt below.

Hoping you all had an excellent Thanksgiving…
Kari

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Neither Eddie nor Mom would let me rescue Owen.

“I heard about your newly dubious virtue,” Eddie said, piping pink icing boobies onto a cookie. Eddie was nineteen years old and perpetually horny so he gave the cookie stripper boobs. “Tough break.”

I vaguely pointed my bag, bulging with blue sugared lard, at a cookie tray and craned my neck to peek above the frost on the kitchen window. Owen and Dad had returned the snow blower to the garage twenty minutes and two lifetimes ago. Mom stood sentry at the kitchen door because when I’d heard yelling, I’d dropped my frosting to sprint for the garage. Nothing doing. Dad was having a man to man discussion with Owen and my mother would beat me bloody with a wooden spoon to keep me away, if she had to. My shoulder still stung from her warning salvo. “Jesus, I wasn’t a virgin when Owen and I met.”

“Don’t you take the name of the Lord in vain, Seth Jeremiah,” my mom snarled from her post at the mudroom door.

I jutted a mutinous chin. “Sorry.”

“Wipe that look off your face too. You’re in big enough trouble already, mister.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “It’s not like you knew Owen wouldn’t marry you when you moved in with the guy.”

True, I hadn’t. We’d never discussed marriage because neither of us had believed that within the realm of possibility. We hadn’t talked—fought—about it until Question Six passed. That didn’t matter to my mother. In the half hour since I’d come downstairs, Mom had worked herself into a powerful mad about her youngest son living in sin for the past year. My family had been fine with us living together before. Until Owen, I’d been wild and impulsive, but what twenty year-old isn’t? I’d also been somewhat of a slut, though I’d never advertised that to  my parents, but despite my family’s initial objections to our age difference—Owen was a dozen years my senior—and the fact that my boss had seduced me out of my Dockers, they’d ultimately decided that Owen was a steadying influence. I’d stopped drinking. I wasn’t flitting from boyfriend to boyfriend and from job to job anymore. After he moved me into his house and mentioned adopting kids, my mother wrote his name beside mine in the family Bible and my dad invited Owen fishing. When I wasn’t even allowed on Dad’s boat.

“I would’ve moved in with him anyway,” I whispered to Eddie. Because that was also true.

“I heard that!”

Ears like a bat, my mother’s.

Busily piping frosting boobs and what I guessed were supposed to be gingerbread lady bits at the cookies’ crotches, Eddie winced. “Are you crazy?” he hissed. “You’re making it worse!”

I bent over my cookie tray full of gingerbread and dutifully squeezed the bag of icing to draw blue dicks on my share of the cookies so Eddie’s strippers would have customers. Piping a pair of balls on either side of those cocks wasn’t easy and the color was unfortunate. After a lonely holiday week of Owen sleeping on my parents’ living room couch, I expected my balls to be so blue by Christmas Day that they’d snap free of my body and roll right off. “I’m just saying,” I said in a softer, quieter murmur. “If Owen bent you over a desk, you’d move in with him too.”

Thwak!

The crack of my mother’s wooden spoon landing on the back of my skull split the hush of the kitchen and I yelped. Dropping the bag of icing, I jerked my hand to my poor head, rubbing furiously at the sting. Like a thousand angry hornets. “Ow! Damn it, that hurt,” I protested, wriggling around but not fast enough to avoid a second swat across my left butt cheek. I pivoted, one hand scrubbing at my smarting scalp while the other covered my freshly injured ass. “What was that for?”

My mother raised the evil spoon and jabbed at me in dire warning. “No cursing in my kitchen.”

“But you threatened to toss Owen out on his ass,” I pointed out and then scrambled to the side when my vile, abusive Mom lifted the spoon to smack me again.

“Don’t you sass me!”

I hadn’t realized insanity ran in my family, but Owen’s failure to make an honest man of me seemed to have triggered a psychotic break in my mother. She didn’t hit me again, but she followed me with the punishing spoon when I scooted down the line of the kitchen counter. Cackling gleefully, Eddie leaped out of the way, the coward. “Mom, you can’t smack me like that. They call that child abuse these days,” I argued, guarding my ass with both hands. “Plus, I’m full grown. An adult.”

“Kids today would be mindful and courteous if a wooden spoon spanked their spoiled rotten tushes when they earned it. Spare the rod? Not in this house.” Mom bared her teeth in a smile that shriveled my balls to raisins. “And none of my children will ever grow so big that they can’t be—“

The flare of the camera flash momentarily blinded me.

“Oh shi—shoot.” Eddie snickered, arms around his stomach as he laughed from the safety of the other side of the kitchen.

“Thanks.” In the doorway, Lisa lowered a neon blue digital camera. “Great pic.” She flashed a toothy grin so similar to Mom’s that I decided on the spot that therapy wasn’t a bad idea at all. “This’ll look fantastic on my Facebook.”

My jaw dropped. I swiveled to my mother, pleading, “Mom!”

She lowered the spoon, thank God, and refocused her disapproving attention on my sister. “Lisa, don’t embarrass your brother.” She darted a ferocious scowl at me. “He’s done enough to shame himself, as is.”

“Leave him alone, Clara.”

My eyes snapped shut, the absurd horror suddenly more than I could bear, but that didn’t stop Owen from striding across the kitchen and draping the warm weight of his arm over my shoulders to pull me against his chest. The familiar scent of his aftershave, musky sandalwood, tickled my nostrils. “This isn’t Seth’s fault,” he said and brushed a chaste kiss at my temple. “Blame me as much as you like. I’ll even sleep on the couch. It’s your house and your rules.” When I dared a glimpse, Owen nodded to my father, who emerged from the mudroom in his socks, whereas snow fell from Owen’s boots to freeze my bare toes. “But don’t punish Seth for what was and is my decision. He’d marry me today, if he could. He’s done nothing to be ashamed of, with the possible exception of falling in love with his boss.”

“Owen’s a cougar,” Eddie said, the teasing accusation muffled around the gingerbread he’d stuffed into his mouth.

“In a manner of speaking.” Owen arched a cool eyebrow. “I’m a lot older and more experienced.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I squirmed away, out from under his arm at my shoulder. Irritation straightened my spine. “I’m a grown man, not a boy you seduced. I make my own decisions.”

“Precisely.” My mother crossed her arms over her ample chest, wicked spoon twitching in her fist. “Seth needs to answer for his poor behavior.”

“This isn’t the fifties, Mom.” Adult or not, I moved closer to Owen when her eyes narrowed, glittering and mean. “People live together before they get married now and some never get married.”

Mom seethed. “Not my son.”

“Give it a rest, Bit.” Heaving a tired sigh, Dad rounded the corner of the mudroom. “At least he can’t get pregnant.”

I blinked at my father, shocked to the core that Dad was taking my side. Against She of the Devil Spoon? Never been done.

“They want to adopt kids!” my mother shrieked and I cowered against Owen’s side when she pointed the spoon at me.

The camera flash flared.

My mother squawked in red-faced outrage.

“Lisa, go to your room,” my dad said with a grimace.

She lowered the camera and pooched out her lower lip in a pout that had stopped being cute when she was six and hadn’t been all that adorable even then. “I’m twenty-four years old, Daddy. You can’t—“

“Go!”

I flinched at the roar. My dad was an even-tempered man. While we were growing up, Mom was the parent to set the rules and mete out discipline to enforce them. Truthfully, present circumstances notwithstanding, my mother hadn’t been that bad. Firm, but fair. I’d had my butt spanked when I was a kid, sure. We all had, but Mom had been much more prone to taking away privileges and assigning extra chores. The spoon was new. Evil. But new.

“Put that thing down, Little Bit,” Dad said to my mom, voice calm and like the dad I remembered as he walked across the kitchen to take the spoon from my mother’s suddenly lax grip. She stared at him, eyes huge in her face, as though she were as shocked by my father’s behavior I was. “How could you hit our son?”

That did it.

Lisa didn’t inherit the pouty lip from Dad. Mom’s pooched out and her eyes glistened for two nanoseconds before she abruptly burst into tears. “B-but they’re living together and just a couple of years away from adopting too, I just know it,” she said, gasping and sobbing as my dad put his arms around her. “And they aren’t even married!” she wailed.

“Stop.” My father hugged her, patting her shoulder. “Anybody who can count on their fingers knows Brenda was born six months after we got married.”

Eddie hopped onto the kitchen counter, munching porno cookies like there was no tomorrow…or party at Grandma Stewart’s on Sunday. “My birthday’s four months after my parent’s anniversary.” He grinned. “Daddy needed persuasion of the shotgun variety.”

I snaked my arms around Owen’s waist, to show my support. I was reasonably confident no one would… “New Christmas rule: no firearms,” I declared, just in case.

When my cousin bit into another cookie, a frosting blob boob slid off the gingerbread and onto his lap. “Spoilsport.”

“He’s old enough to choose his own life. We need to let Seth and Owen sort this out their way,” Dad gently said into Mom’s hair, ignoring the three of us. “Why don’t you go upstairs and splash water on your face.”

Mom’s slight, wet nod made me feel two inches tall and rather than comforting me, Owen caressing my back in those long, soothing strokes made me feel smaller.

“Hand check,” Eddie, the little bastard, shouted, when Owen’s touch dipped a little too far south and skimmed the upper curve of my ass in my blue jeans.

Owen yanked his hand higher.

Dad’s lips curved to a predatory bow next to Mom’s head when he glanced at Owen. “Remember, we have all week. He’ll change his mind.”

Sniffling, Mom wiped her eyes on her sleeve and glared, damp and bloodshot, at Owen. No mystery who I inherited my great honker of a nose from. “The floor you tracked up had better be clean when I’m finished fixing my face,” she said to Owen, though if my mother had ever smoothed anything onto her skin except Oil of Olay, I was unaware of it. “And keep your hands to yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Owen replied.

Christmas. Of. Doom.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | 19 Comments