WIP Wednesday: The Boyfriend

Hi all! I have great news--Dreamspinner accepted my novella Talk Turkey for its Advent Calendar, which means it will be out Dec. 1. With King of the Kitchen coming out in early November and Some Assembly Required hitting the shelves in February, my release calendar is filling up!

It can be hard to carve out time to write new things while I'm editing, but I'm doing my best to keep things moving. Right now I'm toying with the idea of self-publishing a novella and having it printed so I can give away copies at GRL. Thoughts? It would also be available for purchase on Amazon.

I'm also dusting off a YA fantasy manuscript I started years ago, but that won't be something I share here. It's gen, and between that and it being younger YA I just don't feel comfortable having it here. I'm actually pretty excited because Thing 1 is going to read through my rough draft and give me feedback--and since this is his favorite genre to read, I'm sure he'll have plenty to say. This may actually be the year I finish it and start looking for an agent! *g*

In between edits and the YA manuscript, I'm also working on a fake dating WIP that takes place in Portugal (because I'm a slave to tropes, and who doesn't love the fake-lovers-to-more trope?!). That's what you're getting a taste of today for #WIPWednesday.

The backstory: Crawford is CFO of an international hotel chain. He's good at his job, but so is his ex-husband--who he is being forced to work with for the first time since their bitter divorce three years earlier.

---

The Boyfriend

Crawford ground his teeth together. He'd been working for this company for more than half his life, starting as a desk clerk with all the other college grunts, graduating to the concierge desk at the biggest hotel in the chain within two years. Before long, he'd been promoted to the corporate offices, working grueling 80-hour weeks while simultaneously getting his MBA. It had paid off, too. He'd earned himself a vice presidency by the time he'd been 34. He'd met Alistair two years later at an industry conference, and it had been love at first sight for Crawford.

He'd helped Alistair get his foot in the door at Chatham-Thompson, and by the time they'd married three years to the day after Alistair chatted him up at the hotel bar that Crawford had been drowning his boredom at. They'd even spent their first anniversary at the same bar, combining their anniversary celebration with toasting Crawford's promotion to CFO.

Things had been great until they abruptly hadn't. Crawford had been completely blindsided by Alistair's announcement that he was moving to Portugal to take promotion he'd been offered. Crawford had been excited for him at first, plotting out how he'd be able to go with and manage his CFO duties from Lisbon, until Alistair had dropped the bomb that he didn't want Crawford to come.

Crawford spent his second wedding anniversary in a bar, too. Alone, with only the company of his freshly inked divorce decree.

“I am serious about Chatham-Thompson. Don't be ridiculous,” Crawford snapped.

Crawford had given his entire life to the company. Horrendously long work weeks, years where he let his vacation time slide by unclaimed because he was too busy building his career to take it—ironic, since he worked for the largest resort hotel chain in the world. He was the most dedicated employee in executive offices after Gregory. He just didn't see the need to force himself to work with his ex-husband to prove it.

“It's a done deal, Crawford. I know it's hard, but it's been three years. You need to get past it. I've indulged your feud for too long, and now it's starting to affect the bottom line. I can't let that happen,” Gregory said, standing to signify the end of the conversation. “Your flight and accommodations have been scheduled. Edward has arranged for you to have an assistant from his office at your disposal, and there will be a driver for you as well. Helena has the details.”

WIP Wednesday: Celebrity Out

The Barnacle has been home sick with a 104F fever, which means while I've had a few days at home I wouldn't normally have, they haven't exactly been productive. But if I ever end up on some sort of My Little Pony quiz show, I'm taking home the gold. *g*

She's better and back at school, and I'm heading in to work the closing shift at the library here in a few minutes. I've been so frazzled by our schedule upset that I totally forgot what day it actually was. Oops! Luckily, I remembered before I had to hop out for work.

This is the start of a WIP about two celebrities who have just filmed a movie together and are celebrating the successful wrap, which coincides with one of their birthdays. They're both in committed relationships, but find that they're on each other's celebrity out list. With their partners' permission and ecstatic encouragement (and I say that because I don't write infidelity, it's a total no-go for me, and I know it is for a lot of you, too) they find themselves together for a night.

Celebrity Out

“I think the party's dying out, I'll just go with you.” There was no reason to stay if even Emma was going, though Douglas didn't understand why she was leaving her own home.

“You’re staying here,” Jeff says, pursing his lips when Douglas frowns.

“Doug, it’s your 39^th birthday. You’ll be 40 next year. It’s alright to live it up a bit.”

He looks at him blankly, and Jeff shakes his head fondly.

“You’re going to make me say it outright, aren’t you?” he says, a smile curving his lips despite his exasperated tone. “I didn’t set out planning this, you know. But Emma and I had the most enlightening conversation. Hugh Grant? Johnny Depp? Carter Lang? Ring any bells?”

Douglas sucks in a breath, eyes widening in horror as he realizes what Jeff is talking about. He and Jeff had heard something on the radio about celebrity out lists years ago, and they'd jokingly put one together. It had been well before Douglas had any success in the industry, back when he'd been a struggling actor going out to any casting call he remotely fit the bill for and working as an overnight stock clerk at a big box store to make ends meet. They hadn’t talked about it in years, though, and he’d thought–hoped–that Jeff had forgotten. It was awkward now that they actually knew some of the men on their lists.

“Jeff, you can’t think that I’d –”

“It’s what the list is for, Douglas,” Jeff says, and there’s no trace of bitterness or anger in his tone. He cups Douglas' cheeks with his palms, keeping his gaze trained on him. “It’s your birthday. My present to you. Enjoy.”

Douglas huffs out a laugh, hardly believing they’re having this conversation. Because it sounds like Jeff is telling him he can have an affair with Carter as his birthday present, which is absolutely insane.

“And here I thought you’d get me that watch I’ve been eyeing,” he says, trying for humor. There was no way Jeff was being serious. They'd been together for more than ten years and Douglas hadn't strayed once in all that time, and he was sure Jeff hadn't either. Why would he throw that away now?

“No, we’re giving you the man you’ve been eyeing. That’s far better than any old watch, isn’t it?” Emma's comment takes Douglas by surprise, and he jumps. Only Jeff’s hands, which are still on his cheeks, keep him from whirling around. He’s suddenly sober as a judge, and he can feel a cold sweat prickle down his back. Jeff pulls him forward, pressing a kiss to his rigid lips, and then releases him. He stumbles a bit, backing up a step until he hits the wall behind him. Which is fine, until the wall moves and he realizes it’s Carter.

WIP Wednesday: Business or Pleasure

I've been busy with editing and trying to decide whether or not I want to pitch the sequel to King of the Kitchen  that's been banging around in my head for the last month or so, so I haven't done much writing.

Which isn't to say I haven't done any, just that it's been a lot slower going than my usual 2K+ a day output. I'm currently plugging away on this WIP that's a big shift for me--sex first, then a relationship later. If you've read pretty much any of my books, you know that's quite a departure from my usual slow-build. *g*

Kenji has just checked into his hotel on his latest business trip, and he's hoping to get a good workout in to tire him out for the night. He gets more than he bargained for...

---

Business or Pleasure

He pushed the door open, momentarily surprised when the sound of iron clanging toward the back of the small gym. Kenji had assumed he'd be on his own this late. 

He didn't need the weights, so it wasn't like it mattered. He shrugged off the surprise and entered, trying to keep his head down and not disturb the other person. The room was well-lit and clean, which was more than most hotel gyms had going for them. It was also lined with mirrors, which meant no matter which machine Kenji chose, he'd have a view of the other person, and they'd be able to see him. 

He dropped his towel and water bottle near the first treadmill he came to. He busied himself with the unfamiliar machine, setting his pace and time and then starting to jog as the treadmill belt started to pick up speed. He didn't look up again until he'd settled into a nice rhythm, the sounds of his feet hitting the belt loud in the otherwise quiet room.Kenji nearly swallowed his tongue when he finally got a look at the gym's other occupant. Or rather, the back of him. He was on the floor, busting through a set of push-ups that had his tanned, tattooed biceps bulging and his pert, rounded ass on display. 

The guy's sleeveless shirt was soaked, and his short hair was so dark with sweat that Kenji couldn't tell what color it actually was. He was working hard, and apparently he'd been at it awhile. 

Kenji had to force himself to look away. He made it a mile before giving in to temptation and sneaking another peek. The man had moved on to the free weights, and now his face was visible in the mirror. Even streaming with sweat and pink from exertion, he was gorgeous. His full lips were pinched with effort and his eyes were closed as he ran through his reps, which made Kenji look away quickly, embarrassed at his lack of self control. He shouldn't be staring at the poor guy.

WIP Wednesday: Into the Kitchen again!

I made a few of the T-shirts Duncan wears when
he guest-hosts on Beck's cooking show. See all of
them on my Facebook page!                                 

Before I was published, I labored under the very misguided belief that a writer wrote their manuscript, sent it off into the world, and that was that. Sure, there would be editing. Consultations on covers and blurbs. But the writing? That was done.

That, my friends, was a fallacy. Because editors aren't just there to catch typos and bad clauses--they're there to tighten up the writing and make the plot the best it can be. Which means pointing out errors in the arc, characters who are acting OOC, and basically wreaking wonderful havoc on your manuscript until it's the best it can be. Editors have a hard job, and I'm incredibly lucky that my publisher employs editors who are both talented and tactful, because it can't be easy to find nice ways to telling writers to cut sections because they're bulky, add things for clarity and pump up dialogue (and in some cases, as happened with Finding Home, add entire chapters, eek!). But I've never walked away from an edit feeling anything less than excited about how much better the book was, which is all down to how awesome the editing team at Dreamspinner Press is.

Anyway, now that I'm a grizzled writing vet (ha!) I realize that when I send a manuscript off to my publisher, I am most certainly NOT done writing. That was the case with King of the Kitchen. I had some really great editors working on it, with some great (but hard to hear) suggestions about where I could cut the manuscript to make it flow better and what I needed to add to make it really shine. Which is why now, months after the manuscript is finished, I'm still using King of the Kitchen for #WIP Wednesday. *g*


Beck and Duncan are playing up their friendship to the press, which now includes playing racquetball with Duncan's father, Vincent, and Beck's uncle, Christian. Vincent and Christian have a long-running feud, and here we see why.

King of the Kitchen, Dreamspinner Press, November 2015

“We’ll meet you on the court, then,” Christian said, brushing some invisible lint off his pristine white shorts. He and Vincent were both already dressed in their racquetball clothes. He gave Duncan’s jeans a distasteful look. “Do hurry.”

Beck wondered if he and Duncan should take turns changing just to have one of them on hand to act as a buffer between Vincent and Christian, but Vincent spoke before he could suggest it.

“I’ll head to the court to make sure they don’t give our reservation to someone else,” Vincent said. He sneered in Christian’s direction, his chest puffed out like a peacock. “Perhaps you could wait in the café. I believe they’re selling that brand of glorified tap water you’ve been hawking.”

Christian’s face went puce. “I only put my name on the very best brands,” he sniffed. “Not that you’d know anything about being judicious.”

Beck grabbed his uncle’s arm when Vincent took a step toward them. “Didn’t I see Arnie in the café on my way in? When I was in last week he asked me about placing an order for some premade dinners from Brix to sell here. Maybe you should go touch base with him about that. We’ll meet you on the court in five.”

Duncan snickered. “Save it for the court, old men.”

Christian glowered but held his hands up and stepped away. “I’m always happy to discuss new business ventures.”

“Expand or die, isn’t that your motto?” Vincent muttered, but he turned and headed down the corridor toward the courts when Duncan cleared his throat menacingly.

“This is such a bad idea,” Duncan said.

The photographer from the restaurant was just outside the plate glass window, so Beck slung his arm around Duncan’s shoulder and gave him a sunny smile. “The absolute worst,” he said through gritted teeth.

A different kind of #WIP Wednesday

Back to school for the Baker spawn!

I usually share snippets of manuscripts I'm working on for #WIPWednesday, but today was the first day of school for my kiddos and I'm feeling a little nostalgic and a lot proud of these two WIPs that I've been working on since 2006. So instead, here's what I'm working on when I'm not writing.

Hilton Head Island!

It's hard to believe how big these kiddos are getting. Or how fast the summer flew by, though at times it felt like it would never end. (Usually when I was paying summer day camp bills. *g*) We squeezed out every bit of fun we could with baseball games, surprise picnics, playdates at the park and two weeks in Hilton Head where we didn't do anything other than relax on the beach, swim every day, and continue our longstanding family tradition of competitive trash talking during mini golf.

Thing 1 before he was promoted to goalie
(with the monster pads and stick that entails)

The Boy (aka the Bub or Thing 1) is eight and starting third grade this year. He's a voracious reader whose favorite book is War of the Worlds, followed closely by the Harry Potter series. Bub is in the gifted and talented program where he has already surpassed me in math, and he plans to be an astrophysicist when he grows up. He announced his intentions when he was four and very nicely explained the difference when I asked him if he meant astronomer. He loves reading, cooking, anything to do with military history (especially the Civil War) and any and all things LEGO. His favorite subject at school (aside from recess) is Japanese, and he's also teaching himself Portuguese and Spanish. He starts soccer in two weeks, though that's really just a way to bide his time til ice hockey season starts back up in October. He loves watching the Chicago Blackhawks, going to minor league soccer (Go Indy Eleven!) and baseball (Go Indianapolis Indians!) games, and he can recite sports trivia and scores almost as well as his father. He has won the last five family sports bracket contests in a row, predicting tournament winners (in World Cup soccer, the NHL, and college basketball) with almost as much accuracy as that famous octopus. We have eaten an inordinate amount of crappy Hungry Howie's pizza as a result, since we always play for no-veto restaurant selection rights.

Grr Zelda. Animal lover. Fashion maven.
Future roller girl.

The Girl (aka the Barnacle or Thing 2) is starting first grade. She's only five, but even though she's a year younger than her classmates she can hold her own. She's pretty fierce. She plans to be a veterinarian when she grows up, and she loves animals of all sorts. She spent her summer reading nonfiction books about reptiles, though she doesn't particularly like them because they're not fuzzy. She said it was research. Her favorite band is Fall Out Boy, and I have been informed numerous times that she's sure her favorite television show would be Monster High, if only I would stop ruining her social life and let her watch it. Alas, she's going to have to get by on her looks, because I'm not budging on that crap. As it stands, she can usually be found watching My Little Pony instead. She'll start learning Japanese this school year, but she's been teaching herself Spanish, mostly so she can sass her father (who also taught himself Spanish, so the polyglot gene is well-embedded). She is excited to be moving up to U-8 soccer a year early, mostly thanks to the fact that she spends a gratuitous amount of time either outside practicing or begging to go outside and practice. She can also cut a mean backstroke and butterfly, and she'll probably join a swim team next season. She loves the Blackhawks as much as her brother and father do, but instead of playing hockey she's waiting to be old enough to join the Naptown Roller Girls junior roller derby team. (Only two more years!) She even has a shirt with her derby name on it--Grrr Zelda, in honor of her family nickname, Griselda. Or Zellie, affectionately.

Next week we'll get back to manuscript snippets, I promise! Thanks for indulging my proud mama moment.

WIP Wednesday: turkey bondage

We're joining Carson and Tom in Talk Turkey again today. It's been a riot writing these two because their banter and chemistry is wonderful--it keeps me smiling long after it's gone on the page.

---

Talk Turkey

His mom had texted him a recipe for brine this morning. He'd had to look it up. Apparently some people dunked their turkey in a vat of salty water before cooking it. He laughed humorlessly as he thought about his tiny kitchen. The only place he'd be able to brine a turkey would be his rusty bathtub, where he'd be more likely to infuse it with tetanus than salt. 

But she'd been so excited to share recipes with him and so confident that he'd be able to make Christmas dinner on his own. With pictures, which was why he was headed to Safeway even though he ought to be at home with a pair of flannel pajamas and dry socks. 

His shoes squeaked against the linoleum as he made his way back to the turkeys. They were significantly more picked over than they had been last week, and Carson kicked himself for not going back right after he'd talked to Tom and getting one. All the small ones were gone, leaving Carson to choose between large and gargantuan. 

He took out his phone and dialed Tom's direct number. 

“Why hello, good sir,” Tom answered. “How are you on this lovely snowy night?” 

Carson balked a little at the greeting. He held his phone away from his ear for a second to look at the screen. He'd called the number Tom had given him, but he hadn't expected Tom to know who he was. Which was silly, in retrospect, because he already knew the hotline had caller ID. Tom hadn't had to ask for his phone number last time. Duh. 

“Carson?” Tom sounded unsure. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. I'm at the grocery store and I'm a little overwhelmed by all my turkey choices,” Carson babbled. It was true, it just wasn't the reason he was so out of whack. 

“Ah, I see. Well, how can I help?” Tom sounded more professional now, less at ease. Carson winced. Had he offended Tom by going straight to business? 

“I put off getting my turkey...” 

“And now only unsuitable ones are left,” Tom said knowingly. “Did you get the pamphlets I sent?” 

He had. It had been the first piece of mail that wasn't a bill Carson had received at his new address, but admitting how excited he'd been to open the envelope seemed silly. “Yeah. How To Thaw was riveting.” 

Tom snorted. “Personally I find Basting Basics to be the gem of that lot, but tastes differ.” 

The hard pit that had been in Carson's stomach since the horrendous office Christmas party eased a bit at Tom's comfortable cajolery. Why couldn't he talk this easily with the people in his department at work? 

“I'm saving Trussing Techniques for later. It sounded a bit racy,” he said, grinning when Tom started laughing. 

“Oh God. Bedtime reading for sure,” he said, taking a gasping breath. “You make it sound like Fifty Shades of Grey for turkeys.” 

“Could be,” Carson said, still smiling. “I've never read either, so how would I know?” 

“Clearly you need to read both now. For science,” Tom said, still sounding a bit choked. 

“I think it would be for literature, not for science. Besides, turkeys don't have hands. I don't see how they'd be able to tie a decent knot, let alone wield a paddle.”

WIP Wednesday: Let's Talk Turkey

credit

I'm getting a woefully late start on this so I don't hold out much hope of it being ready in time for the Dreamspinner Press Advent Calendar deadline, but this is a story I've been waiting to write for two years, so I decided to give it a go.

This year's Advent Calendar topic is holiday mishaps that have happy endings, so my meet-cute story about a man calling a turkey hotline because he got his hand stuck in the turkey while trying to take out the packet inside seemed perfect. You guys, I can't even explain how much I've wanted to write this story. SO. MUCH. But it never rose to the top of my WIP pile because there's no way it could possibly be an entire novel, and I was already working on several novellas.

I've been busy finishing up Some Assembly Required and doing the first-round edits on King of the Kitchen (and pondering the possibility of a sequel to it, thanks to a seed planted by my editor....) so I am so far behind schedule with this delightful and funny romp about the turkey hotline. But it's started, at least, and that's something. *g*

---

Talk Turkey

    “Thanks for calling the Talk Turkey hotline. This is Tom.”
    The voice was like velvet. Deep and soothing. Carson's frazzled nerves instantly calmed, and his tense shoulders released a bit. Did they train the hotline operators to talk like that? Surely anyone who was desperate enough to call a turkey hotline was in a bad way. And really, Tom?
    “Tom,” he said, disbelieving. “Like Tom Turkey? Is that what they call every guy who works there?”
    The husky chuckle that came across the line gave Carson goosebumps.
    “One, I'm the only guy who works here. And two, my name really is Tom. Thomas Alexander Stockton. But yes, I do get my fair share of Tom Turkey jokes.”
    It was Carson's turn to laugh. “Maybe you should go by Thomas instead. It makes it less obvious.”
    Tom hummed thoughtfully. “The only people who call me Thomas are my mom and my grandma, and even then it's only when I'm about to be flayed by one of them. I don't think I could shake the association.”
    “Well, I suppose the jokes are inevitable, then.”
    That earned him another throaty chuckle. Carson swallowed hard, his chest tingling.
    “I've gotten used to them,” Tom said dismissively. “Can I get your name and a brief description of your turkey problem so I can give you a better customer service experience?” The silky, easy cadence of his voice had taken on a bit of stilted hesitation. Carson wondered if he was reading off a script now. How disappointing.
    How starved for human contact was he that he'd melted because the person who'd answered a turkey hotline sounded hot and interested?
    Goddamn it.