HOW HARD CAN IT BE? came out January 17th and I’m still pinching myself everyday! The simple fact that at forty-blah-blah-blah dreams can still come true is astounding.
The reviews are great and the two bad ones are really stinkin’ bad! I am a full service offender and have clearly offended a few readers sensibilities.... My Dad always said, “Make them love you or hate you...don’t let them forget you.” With my warped brand of humor I’m taking his advice seriously!
Exciting news is that the screen play for HHCIB? is done! It’s off to LaLa land and we will see what happens. I kind of fear the reaction, but they know what their getting, they optioned the book in the first place! Jim (my screen writing partner) and I had a hell of a time making cuts. Actually, I had a hard time making cuts...Jim had to deal with a whiney pouty pain in the assmonkey (me).
The other squeehaw news is that my first paranormal, FASHIONABLY DEAD, will be released at the end of April! I luuurve me some vamps and I hope you guys are ready for some sexy, snarky, undead hotties! I’ll be posting chapters on my website soon.
I’ve also become addicted to Scrabble on line. Thank you Jim, you suck.
Here’s the teaser for HOW HARD CAN IT BE? for those of you that haven’t read it yet. And if you haven’t read it yet....Buy my book.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
Ten feet away stood the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life. More beautiful than my new neighbor, Mr. Fine-ass. I felt light-headed and realized I’d ceased to breathe. Sandy blond hair, full lips, eyelashes that belonged on a girl, and a build like a brick shithouse. He didn’t fit in here. His jeans and dark gray T-shirt covered by a rockin’ black leather bomber were hotter than hot. He was holding a folder and kept glancing at it. No ring on his left hand. Aces! He looked about thirty-five or so. Absolutely perfect. With my luck he was probably gay.
What the hell was wrong with me? I wasn’t here to pick up guys. I was here trying not to get arrested. My brain knew that, but all my girlie parts were screaming something else entirely. There was no security guard in sight . . . maybe, just maybe . . . No, absolutely not. I couldn’t take the chance of going back to jail. It wasn’t a parking violation; it was a restraining order, for shit’s sake. But if I didn’t show myself, there was no way my future husband would notice me. I was covered up like a fashion-impaired nun. Maybe I could remove the disguise just for a minute . . . make eye contact, ask him to marry me, and then finish what I came here for. No, wait, maybe I’d deliver the package first and then tackle him to the ground and have my way with him . . . No, wait, what if he left while I was delivering the goods? And what if I got arrested before he noticed I was alive? Jesus Christ, I needed to get laid. This was the second stranger I’d considered marrying in two days and I’d only seen the other one’s butt.