WIP Wednesday: Your last glimpse of Some Assembly Required before it is submitted!

Lex Chase and I have been hard at work finishing up our comedic (and surprisingly angsty and robust) foray into IKEA's spectral plane. I'm spending my day with some last-minute edits and then Some Assembly Required will be off to our publisher. It's been an interesting lark--much plottier and heartfelt than we'd imagined it we jokingly set out to see if we could outline a book based on a silly writing exercise assigned by Damon Suede at a conference in Orlando earlier this year.

It was never a book we truly intended to write, but Damon liked the snippets we'd written in the class and encouraged us to continue it. And then our editor heard him talking about it with us, and the rest is history. Or rather, the rest is ghosts falling in love in purgatory, which just happens to be housed in IKEA.

Given how much time we've spent frantically trying to finish by our deadline--which is today, by the way, because Lex and I like to live dangerously and down-to-the-wire--it was a surprise that coming to the end of the manuscript took us by, well, surprise. Suddenly we were done. It was happy, to be sure, because every writer likes to actually finish a project. But we were also sad to leave Benji and Patrick behind because we'd fallen in love with them. Personally, I think I might miss Agnes the most. She's plucky and mysterious and has most of the great one-liners in the book. *g*

So without further ado, here's the last snipped of Some Assembly Required you'll see here in #WIPWednesday, since after today it's no longer a #WIP. *sniffle*

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Some Assembly Required, release February or March 2016, Dreamspinner Press

Agnes didn't look over, absorbed in her knitting and apparently trusting him to work through the snarled yarn himself. He started winding. “Find her parents?” 

Benji didn't bother to ask how she knew. Agnes seemed to know everything that went on in the store, which made it all the more puzzling that Patrick thought he could prank her. Surely Patrick realized that Agnes was more, didn't he? Benji couldn't put it to words, not even in his own head, so he'd never tried to talk about it with Patrick. Besides, he kind of liked the unique bond he and Agnes had. It was certainly better than the antagonistic one she shared with Patrick. 

“Her mom. Pretty sure that will be the last time she wanders off. She was shaken up.”  

Agnes nodded, looking up briefly from her knitting. “Something about it shook you up, too.” 

It had, but he hadn't really noticed it until Agnes said something. He was always happy to reunite a missing kid with its parents, but it usually felt better than this. Today Benji just felt empty.  

And really, always and usually? Benji wasn't one for melodramatics, even in his own inner monologues. Why was he be using words that implied he'd been here years when it had been a month or two, tops? He needed to find a hobby or something.  

“I wish Patrick would decide if he was avoiding me or not,” he said, because Patrick was kind of like having a hobby. If a hobby was rude and sarcastic and more often than not ended with Benji needing to regenerate in the ball pit with Agnes.  

Agnes hummed. “Patrick has a lot more than that to decide,” she murmured. Her lips moved soundlessly as she counted her stitches, though the mass of finished rows on her lap followed no discernible pattern. Agnes's knitting was as cryptic as her advice.

WIP Wednesday: At the beach!

Thing 2 and I found a double rainbow
on a rainy beach walk!

I'm at the beach for the next two weeks, so I thought it was only fitting I brought some of my characters with me.

I'm off to take the kidlets down to the sand to build castles and boogie board, but we won't be having near as much fun as Connor and Jake did in this sexy about making s'mores on the beach. *g*

Enjoy!!

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There was a blanket spread in the middle of the expanse of sand, but that wasn't where Connor led him. Jake went down without a fight when Connor nudged him to his knees, obediently nestling into the sand next to it. He luxuriated in the feel of the sand beneath him, shifting and scratching just as it would if they were really at the shore, while Connor pulled the bag with marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars over and assembled a s'more.

“I borrowed my dad's fire pit, but I don't think it's warm enough to go out on the balcony with it. Luckily, I always have a plan B.” Connor mumbled around the s'more he held in his teeth. He dug through a bag again, rustling around in it before triumphantly holding up a lighter.

Jake was transfixed by the sight of Connor’s lips closed around the treat, his heart thudding slowly at the thought of those full lips parted around something else.

“Bit small, eh?” Jake teased, quirking an eyebrow at the small Bic.

Connor made a tsking sound, shaking his head. The lighter cast just enough brightness that Jake could see the way Connor’s blue eyes sparkled with amusement.

“If I was going to melt the whole thing, yes. But I have other plans, oh ye of little faith.” Connor held the lighter up to the chocolate, eyes narrowing as he concentrated on melting the chocolate without burning his fingers. When the first tiny bead dripped to the sand, he made a triumphant noise and flicked the lighter, plunging them back into the semi-darkness. Jake blinked, a corona of colors from the flame still burned into his retinas as he tried to adjust.

Before he could ask Connor what the plan actually was, Jake felt lips pressed against his. He responded without thinking, parting his own lips enough for Connor’s tongue to slide inside. The flavor of chocolate burst over his tongue, and it took him a few seconds to realize that Connor must have licked the melted chocolate. The mental image of Connor, lips and tongue painted with the sweet, sticky s’more made Jake groan, and he cupped the back of Connor’s head with his hand, pulling him in even closer so he could deepen the kiss.

“You’re such a tease,” he growled when Connor pulled back.

Connor snickered, flicking the lighter on again. His face was lit with a halo of dancing light again, and Jake smugly noted that Connor’s lips looked a bit swollen from his possessive kiss. He watched as Connor went through the process of melting more of the chocolate, this time leaving the lighter lit as he lifted the s’more to his mouth and licked it.

Jake was ready for the darkness this time, easily tracking Connor’s movements as he came closer again. He opened his mouth eagerly, stroking Connor’s tongue with his own to strip away all the chocolate that somehow tasted even sweeter mingled with a taste that was all Connor.

“Christ,” Jake muttered when Connor broke away again.

“Good, isn't it?” Connor bent his head, nipping at the tender skin of Jake’s neck. “And think, it's just the two of us, all alone on a deserted patch of beach.”

Jake was scrambling for the blanket before Connor had even finished his sentence, shaking it roughly to rid it of any lingering sand before spreading it carefully.

“God, your mouth,” Jake murmured, fixated on the dark outline of Connor’s lips, barely visible in the light of the moon. He groaned when he realized Connor still had the half-eaten s'more clamped in his teeth. “Would you forget the stupid s’more and just get down here?”

Connor grinned around his mouthful, winking as lasciviously as he could with graham cracker and marshmallow stuffed into his mouth. He dropped to his knees on the blanket and leaned over Jake, fishing in the sand for the discarded lighter.

“Trust me?” 

WIP Wednesday: More Connor and Jake

This summer seems like it's flying by! I'm heading off to Hilton Head Island for two weeks with the kids and Hubs on Saturday, and I'm really hoping to get a good amount of writing and editing done while I'm there. So next #WIPWednesday will be coming at you from the beach, though I haven't decided which project is going to be lavished in my attention while I'm there yet. Any suggestions? I'll be finishing up Some Assembly Required with Lex while I'm there, but after that I'll be diving into something else.

Should it be The Zen Den with sexy yoga teacher Owen and his newest student, Kincaid? Or maybe it's finally time to finish my YA manuscript Incoming Credits with adorably geeky Zeke and his heartthrob Hatcher. And I also have Connor and Jake languishing out there, the poor guys whose manuscript doesn't even have a title to call its own yet.

Connor and Jake's particular brand of angst is what I was feeling this week, so you get another snippet of their story. The two of them have just come from their first night out together in weeks, spent at a bar with a group of their friends. We come in on their cab ride home.

Let me know which WIP you'd like to me to work on in the comments! *g*

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Jake spent the short cab ride wondering what he should say to Connor once they were alone. Had he read too much into the way Connor had swayed into him during the chorus of the song they’d sung, or the way his own voice had hitched as he’d sung the last verse? They were both still a little drunk; maybe Jake should let it go until he was more level-headed.

Connor was unnaturally quiet as they made their way up two flights of stairs to the apartment he shared with their roommate, Gavin. Instead of slipping down the hall that lead to their bedroom as Jake had expected him to, though, Connor detoured into the kitchen.

“I have a little bit of work to get through before I can call it a night,” Connor said quietly, out of deference to Gavin, who was sacked out on the couch.

“It's Friday night, Con. Come on.” Jake knew he was perilously close to sounding whiny, but he didn't care. He just wanted Connor in bed with him, even if it was just to sleep.

“Just a few emails. I promise.” Connor was already immersed in something on his laptop, not even looking up when Jake sighed and gave up, retreating down the hallway.

It seemed like a shame to climb into the freshly made bed stinking of smoke from the club, so Jake shut the bedroom door so the sound wouldn't wake Gavin and walked through to the bathroom, turning the shower taps on and shirking out of his clothes. Leaving them in a pile on the floor never failed to get a rise out of Connor, and Jake felt a small zing of satisfaction at knowing the clothes would drive Connor crazy when he saw them. The contentedness from the club had definitely waned, and Jake felt himself falling straight back into the pit low-level resentfulness and irritation he'd been wallowing in lately.

He was enjoying the hot spray and too caught up in his own thoughts to hear the door open, and Jake had to bite back a yelp when he saw Connor’s head poke around the shower curtain.

“Jesus. A little warning?”

Connor’s eyes swept down Jake’s bare chest, traveling over the flat planes of his stomach and lingering at the trail of wiry blond hair that led down to Jake’s half-hard cock, which despite his anger at Connor putting him off to work was definitely showing interest in Connor’s appraisal now.

“You should be ashamed of how much water you waste,” Connor said with a grin, pulling his own shirt up over his head and tossing it in the hamper. He cast a glance at the pile of Jake’s discarded clothes on the floor, shaking his head. “I bet you took a shower before you came out tonight, too. And one this morning.”

“We can’t all be like you, Conservation Connor,” Jake teased, watching as Connor’s jeans went into the hamper. “Saving the planet one uneaten hamburger at a time.”

Connor wasn't a vegetarian, but he never ate red meat and rarely indulged in poultry or pork, preferring vegetables and fish. It was a running joke between them—Connor had been one of the only people at the Texas university where they met who didn't eat beef. Connor laughed at the familiar jibe, slipping past him into the shower. Jake watched him, studying the way the rivulets of water coursed over Connor’s pale skin as he held his face up to the spray, his dark hair flattening against his skull.

“Lucky they didn’t make us sing New Age Girl,” Connor said, licking the water from his lips in a way that made Jake’s mouth go dry.

“Yeah?” Jake asked, stepping closer and backing Connor up against the tiles, his lips hovering just over the other man’s. “I don’t I know that one.”

“More evidence of your appalling taste in music,” Connor said, ducking his head a bit and nipping at the stubble on Jake’s chin. “Maybe Coldplay will remake it someday.”

Jake was feeling too generous at the moment to respond to the barb, angling his neck instead so Connor could press a row of kisses along his jaw. He canted his hips forward, rubbing his wet body against Connor’s, their erections brushing against each other.

“It’s about a girl,” Connor said, his warm breath, cooler than the water they’re under, making Jake shiver as it skated across the shell of his ear. “A vegetarian. Who likes—”

His hand ghosted down Jake’s body, leaving no question as to just exactly what the vegetarian in question—and Connor—liked.

WIP Wednesday: an IKEA movie date!

Photo credit

Lex and I are so, so close to the finish line with Some Assembly Required. We've built the world and filled it in with a lot of wonderful, colorful characters. And now we're getting to the nitty gritty stuff that I love...sweet moments and relationship building! *g*

What happens when you're a ghost so your spiritual essence is tied to IKEA and you can't take your crush on a date? Why, you bring the date to him! Benji and Patrick's relationship is moving along at a snail's pace (or rather, Patrick's pace...) and Benji decides what they need is a good old-fashioned movie date.

---

Some Assembly Required, February 2016, Dreamspinner Press

Benji sighed as he moved over to snag a VGA cable from around Karin's neck and start hooking the laptop up. She'd clearly not known what he needed, since she brought several. He saw an HDMI and what he was pretty sure was an ethernet cable, though he had no idea where she'd have gotten that. 

Agnes craned her neck, watching him closely. “So you're going to show a movie using this?” 

He wondered when the last time Agnes had actually watched a movie. Had they even had talkies then? He decided discretion was the better part of valor and bit back his joke. 

“I'm streaming the movie and using the projector to put it up on the wall. Kind of like how movie theaters do it.” 

Agnes poked at the laptop, and the screen flickered from the burst of electromagnetic energy. She drew her hand back quickly, and Benji almost laughed. It was the closest to chagrined he'd ever seen her. 

Karin joined them, squinting at the laptop. “So there's a movie reel in there?” 

Not for the first time, Benji wondered just exactly how old Karin and Agnes were. 

“Uh, no. Nowadays movie theaters are all digital.” He bit his lip when he looked up and saw two blank faces. “It's hard to explain. But no, there are no reels of film.” 

He'd had a hard time figuring out what to screen for Patrick on their movie date, but after an hour agonizing over his choices he'd settled on The Avengers. It was the perfect mix of action and geekery and it was exactly the type of movie he bet Patrick would have lined up to see on opening night. 

Benji was going to be kind of devastated if Patrick didn't love it. 

WIP Wednesday: Back into the kitchen

Photo: Raleys

I'm on deadline with Some Assembly Required so it's almost all IKEA all the time in my brain right now, but I've got a little space left over for my lovely King of the Kitchen boys. The book is in edits right now, and I'm currently testing recipes for the addendum. My plan is to have one for everything Beck cooks (he's into the slow food movement, with local ingredients and minimal fancifying) and at least a few of the things Duncan cooks. That's a little harder, since he's a molecular gastronomist and I doubt most of you have the tools to spherify liquids (easier than you'd think, but requires chemicals from specialty shops) and sous vide meat to tender perfection. *g*

In this excerpt Beck cooks one of my very favorite things to make in the kitchen, roasted brussel sprouts. This recipe will definitely be in the book!

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King of the Kitchen, Dreamspinner Press, November 2015

Beck pulled a plate out of the warmer, sitting it on the counter between them. The camera came forward, zooming in on it, and Duncan had to force himself not to take an instinctive step back. Filming television was hard.

“We're taking on brussels sprouts today. They get a pretty bad rap, but when Duncan and I are done with them today I think you'll see that they're a flavorful and nutritious addition to any dinner table,” Beck said.

“I'll be going the more traditional route, slow roasting my Brussels sprouts with grape tomatoes and finishing them with a balsamic reduction,” Beck said. The camera panned over the ingredients a stage hand had set out moments before.

“And I'll be bringing some chemistry into the kitchen and showing you how to make a bacon foam that will complement my crunchy smoked Brussels sprouts perfectly,” Duncan said. He'd brought his smoke gun and his whipping siphon, and both had caused quite a stir in the prep kitchens. He held them up now. “These probably aren't tools you'll find in your home kitchen, but there are plenty of affordable models out there for the home cook. They look a little intimidating, but we'll talk through the process today. You'll find that science in the kitchen can be fun and tasty.”

Both of their dishes took a long time to make, which was why Andre and the prep kitchen had supplied them with multiple switch-out dishes so they could show the cooking process to the audience as they went. Some of Duncan's steps couldn't be prepared in advance, though, like setting up the smoke gun and preparing the siphon to make the foam.

He was more than a little nervous about things not working as they should, but everything moved along seamlessly, aside from a minor spill when he and Beck collided.

“And that's why you always say call out 'behind' in a professional kitchen,” Duncan joked, brushing the balsamic vinegar he'd spilled on his coat off. “It's also why no one but Beck wears these monkey suits while we're cooking.”

He put his pot down and peeled off his sports jacket, handing it off to the stage hand who darted forward to take it. Having all this off-screen help was nice. Kind of like what he'd imagined having Thing would be like when he'd watched The Addams Family as a kid.

“Ah, that's better.”

WIP Wednesday: Untitled WIP

Lex and I are barreling toward our deadline on Some Assembly Required, but we've gotten into some of the heavy stuff and I needed a bit of a break between chapters. A literary palate cleanser, if you will. So I dove into a project I've had  hanging around for quite awhile, an untitled novella about an established relationship where communication has broken down and while the love is there, the mutual understanding and respect isn't.

I'd titled this Better than Okay, but then A Fault in Our Stars happened. If you've read that, you know the importance of the characters telling each other "okay" and why I now have to find a new catchphrase for poor Jake and Connor. Any ideas? They've been a couple since college and they're early thirties now, so they're settled into their relationship and have their own verbal shorthand. 

The book is a look into their life as they are floundering a bit, as people in a longterm relationship tend to do. I love exploring what happens when a couple has passed the newlywed stage. How do they stay committed? What do they do once that first blush of love is past? Writing about lust and overwhelming initial attraction is fun, but writing about an established couple gets you to the meat of their relationship. How to they keep that happiness that came so easily early on? Or do they?

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Untitled WIP

Jake ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He was overdue for a cut, but he'd been waiting for Connor to say something. Jake almost never kept track of things like that; Connor was the one who hounded him to go in for a cut when it started to get shaggy. If left to his own devices, Jake would only get it cut when it started to get so unruly that it made his baseball caps fit too tightly.

But Connor hadn't said anything. There had been no hastily scribbled Post-it note on the bathroom mirror or coupons tucked into Jake's wallet for his favorite salon chain. Hell, Jake hadn't been able to wear the Mariners hat he almost never took off for over a week now because it had gotten uncomfortable, and Connor hadn't noticed that, either.

Jake added that to his mental tally of everything that had been going wrong with Connor lately, resisting the urge to tug at his floppy locks in frustration. He needed to be doing something, but it wasn't like he could confront Connor when he didn't even know where he was. Jake knew he could text him—even at his most distracted and unavailable, Connor always responded to texts. But could he trust anything Connor said? He didn't know Jake had caught him lying about where he was. Wouldn't he just claim to be with his brother Chris and make Jake even angrier?

It was the middle of February and absolutely freezing outside, but Jake decided that if he didn’t get out and do something, he might well lose his mind. So he flicked off the television and made his way back to his bedroom, moving aside Elaine’s suitcase and rifling through the chest of drawers. He pushed through boxers and T-shirts until he found what he was looking for, a pair of threadbare sweatpants with a badly frayed draw string. Years ago they'd been navy blue, but now they were nearly gray from repeated washings. The reflective Rice University logo down the side hadn't faded, though, which was what he needed for a dark nighttime run. He’d had them since college, when he and Connor used to go for runs together around Houston after dark because it was the coolest part of the day. He shucked his jeans, pulling on the familiar pants and tying the waistband tightly, smoothing the thermal T-shirt he was already wearing over it and adding a sweatshirt for good measure. He had gloves and a thick woolen hat in his jacket pocket in the closet, but he didn’t want to risk ruining them or the coat when he worked up a sweat once he got going. Jake looked at himself in the mirror, glaring at his reflection. He hated that he'd been reduced to such a miserable, jealous state. How had he and Connor let things get so bad?

A change of scenery was definitely called for, so Jake pulled himself together, pocketed his keys and braced himself for the cold as he headed out to try to outrun his problems for a little bit.

Jake’s thoughts were of hot summer evenings and warm, blue-skied fall days as he jogged down the sidewalk, eyes focused on his sneakers so as to avoid the worst of the icy puddles. He hated winter. He’d never had a huge tolerance for cold weather, but most of his favorite memories of Connor were tied up with memories of warmth. The day they’d met at college as freshmen moving into a new dorm had been one of the hottest days of the year. Both of them were from cooler climates, and they'd been ill-prepared for the harsh heat of August in Texas. They'd adapted, though, and even after they'd moved to Seattle after graduation, they'd gravitated toward hot places on their rare vacations.

Summer in Seattle was nice, but it couldn't hold a candle in Jake's mind to his memories of sweat-soaked late summers in Texas with Connor by his side. They'd been roommates freshman year, thrown together by chance. It hadn't taken long for them to become friends, two non-Texans adjusting to not only college life but culture shock and a climate far hotter than any place either of them had lived in before.

It has also been blisteringly hot the August of their junior year when Connor had kissed him and their relationship had taken on a completely new aspect, changing from friends to lovers. The newness and excitement of his first few months of dating Connor were forever tied to memories of warm, lush weather, and heat waves never failed to make Jake remember them.

Not that he wouldn't happily live in perpetual winter if he and Connor could just get those feelings back. They'd been together so long that Jake couldn't even imagine life without Connor. They'd become adults together. They'd provided moral support for each other during their first few nerve-wracking job interviews; they'd been side-by-side as they shopped for apartments, filled out their first W-2s and puzzled over insurance options. Jake didn't know how to be a grown up without Connor there with him. The friends they'd shared an apartment with their last year at Rice had teasingly called them “Jon,” since, as one of them put it, “We never see Jake and Con apart, so it's like we have one roommate instead of two living in that room.” It had been a long time since anyone had called them that, and Jake let the word echo through his head in time with his footfalls, focusing on that instead of the ache in his chest that wasn’t entirely from the icy air.

WIP Wednesday: King of the Kitchen excerpt!

It's Wednesday! Lex and I have been working away at Some Assembly Required, but I wanted to share something else with you today. King of the Kitchen was accepted and will be released in early November, just in time to hit the preorder page for GRL. I'll be reading an excerpt from it there (and man is THAT going to be interesting...I already feel like I've swallowed a swarm of butterflies just thinking about it!), and I thought I'd share a different excerpt here today.

King of the Kitchen (Dreamspinner Press November 2015) 

 JULY 2006 

The kitchen was as hot as a sauna, and the bandanna Duncan had tied around his had lost its ability to keep his forehead dry hours ago. His feet ached, his hands were chapped, and despite being surrounded by food, he hadn't eaten since breakfast. It was long past the dinner hour, but the flurry of frenetic activity hadn't slowed much at all. 

People were underfoot everywhere in the small space, bustling around with hot pans and large pots, and everywhere he turned Duncan ran the risk of toppling a precariously placed container. It was perfect. 

“Order in! Rancher's omelet, no onions, no peppers, no potatoes, no meat.” 

Duncan rolled his eyes, yanking the ticket out of John's hand. “So basically they want a cheese omelet? You don't think you could make it easier on us in here and just write down what they actually ordered?” 

John grinned. “She ordered the rancher's omelet, dude.” 

“Without three quarters of what makes it the rahncher's omelet? Did you tell her she could just order a cheese omelet and save $3.75?” 

“I did, but she's not the one paying and she wanted to stick to him.” 

That startled a laugh out of Duncan. John motioned toward a table over his shoulder and Duncan leaned through the pass through, trying to see the couple without being too obvious. He knocked over a battered pot in the process, making most of the diner's customers look up. So much for subtle. 

 “Them,” John said, pointing toward a small table toward the front of the diner, right in front of the plate glass windows. 

The woman was tall and slender with dark wavy hair cascading down her back. Her clothing and the purse perched on the floor near her feet screamed money, as did the suit on the man she was with. They weren't the diner's typical patrons by a long shot, but Duncan did have to concede that she looked like the type of person who'd be a special order. When business was slow, he and some of the other kitchen staff passed the time by betting on  whether or not the customers who walked in the door would be complicated. He was almost always right. 

 “What about him?” Duncan asked, jutting his chin toward the man she was with. 

He could only see him from behind, but from his immaculately cut hair and his ramrod straight posture—difficult in the rickety diner chairs, Duncan knew from personal experience—he looked like a special order as well. He looked down at the ticket, frowning as he tried to decipher John's chicken scratch. No matter how many times the kitchen complained, John's handwriting never improved. Duncan had worked there on and off for more than ten years and the only constant had been John and his atrocious handwriting. It was kind of comforting, in an extremely exasperating way. 

 “Seriously? Two eggs over easy, bacon, and whole wheat toast?” Duncan looked from the ticket to the man. That was a surprise. He peered at him, studying his shoulders and finding himself wishing he could see the mystery man's face. It wasn't often that Duncan's culinary profiling went astray. It was intriguing. 

“They're cousins. It was his week to pick where they had dinner. I'm getting the feeling that she's less than pleased,” John said.