New Release - FAIR CHANCE

Fair Chance, the final installment in the All's Fair trilogy is out today in print, ebook and audio.

The Blurb:
Elliot Mills comes face-to-face with evil in this follow-up to Fair Game and Fair Chance from bestselling author Josh Lanyon

One final game of cat and mouse...

Ex-FBI agent Elliot Mills thought he was done with the most brutal case of his career. The Sculptor, the serial killer he spent years hunting, is finally in jail. But Elliot's hope dies when he learns the murderer wasn't acting alone. Now everyone is at risk once again--from a madman determined to finish his partner's gruesome mission.

The Excerpt:

“Excellent choices, gentlemen.” The petite brunette waitress dropped her ticket pad in the pocket of her teeny tiny black skirt and bestowed a dazzling and impartial smile on both of them. “I’ll be right back with your cocktails.”

They were seated at Stanley & Seafort’s Steak, Chop & Fish House, one of their favorite places in town to dine on the evenings they weren’t in a hurry to get back to Goose Island. The food was fine. The bar was excellent. But more to the point, it gave them a chance to talk about the case on neutral ground. When Elliot had finally acceded to SAC Montgomery’s request that he visit Corian, one of Tucker’s stipulations had been that they not take the case home with them. From the point they boarded the ferry at Steilacoom, the topic of the Sculptor was officially shelved.

That was the goal anyway.

Tonight there was more to talk about than could be covered in the drive to the ferry.

Tucker sighed, loosened his tie and leaned back in the sofa-sized booth. Elliot gazed out the picture window at the stunning view of Tacoma and the blue waters of Commencement Bay Harbor beyond. He massaged his knee, which had started to ache.

Tucker glanced at Elliot. “If I seemed…harsh back there,” he began gruffly.

Elliot brushed the apology aside. “It’s all right. I get it.” He didn’t expect—or need—Tucker to pull his punches when they were working.

“You’re my priority. That doesn’t change. I genuinely believe your involvement is not critical, but even if I did think we needed your help, I wouldn’t be happy with this because I don’t think this is good for you. Or us.”

Well, hell. That was Tucker for you. No beating around the bush. And an unnerving ability to say aloud the things most guys, including Elliot, were not comfortable saying outside the privacy of their own bedroom.

“I know, Tucker. Like I said, I get it.” This ground was so well trod it was practically mud beneath Tucker’s handmade Italian shoes. “But just once I’d like to discuss the case without a preface from you on how much you didn’t—and don’t—want me involved.”

Tucker grimaced. Nodded.

They were silent for a few minutes. That was mostly weariness, though a small amount of irritation factored in. They were both too opinionated and strong-willed not to bump heads now and again. They’d learned over the past months that simply taking a deep breath and a step back usually took care of things.

The waitress appeared with their drinks. Whisky and soda for Tucker and a glass of California merlot for Elliot. He needed a drink after the day he’d had, but he would be taking pain meds that night for sure. He must have twisted his knee when he’d raced across Corian’s property to see who had opened fire.

Tucker’s expression was somber as he sipped his whisky.

Watching him, Elliot asked, “Do you want me to share my thoughts on my visit to Corian’s place?”

“If you think it’s relevant.”

Elliot let his head fall back, summoning patience.

“Sorry,” Tucker muttered. “It’s not pleasant watching a psychopath threaten your partner.” He threw the rest of his drink back.

Fair enough. Elliot would be struggling with that too, were the shoe on the other foot. There was nothing he could say to comfort Tucker, so he related his trip to Black Diamond and his encounter with Corian’s former neighbor.

Tucker mulled it over. “Do you think Corian was working with an accomplice?”

“I don’t know. My first instinct was no. Except…I’m not sure that was instinct so much as rejection of something I didn’t want to hear.”

“I watched the interview twice. I still can’t make up my mind.”

“Twice?”

Tucker was looking at his empty glass like he didn’t know what had happened to his drink. He caught the waitress’s eye and she nodded. He turned back to Elliot. “What I am sure of is there’s nothing he won’t do to wreck you.”

“Of course,” Elliot said. “We already knew that.”

Tucker’s expression drew a faint smile from him. “Come on, Tucker. We already know I’m the bad guy in Corian’s movie. He didn’t invite me over there because he thinks I’m the one person who can appreciate his artistic genius or have a civilized conversation with him, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. He wants me there so that he can dump his horror stories all over me and hopefully cause maximum mental distress.”

“That’s right,” Tucker said grimly. “He’ll try to get to you any way he can. Including physically, so don’t ever turn your back on him.”

“Is that literally or figuratively? Do you want me to shuffle backwards out of the room at the end of each visit?”

“I’m not joking about this.”

“I know. He’ll continue to be handcuffed and wear ankle restraints during our interviews. I’m not about to forget what he’s capable of.”

The Launch Party -- and you're invited! 

And Then My Puppy Ate My Homework

I'm not exactly sure what happened to February.

Well, true, the first part of the month I did have a couple of days of vacation. The annual island retreat with my sibs--I LIVE for those sisterly retreats.

And of course, February IS a short month (and every day counts in this biz).

That said, the month started out really well. Very productive, lots of writing -- particularly on The Monet Murders and the surprise, secret project Writing Killer M/M Suspense and Mystery. (Nice cover, eh? He seems very relaxed about the possibility of having to shoot someone.)

But I'm not just an author. (Is anybody "just an author" these days?) I also run my own publishing empire, so there were also contracts to read and sign (specifically two Thai and one German publisher), print collections to arrange (trying to do a holiday collection...waiting to hear from Carina Press on a couple of titles there) translations to arrange (Italian -- the good news is So This is Christmas will be released by Triskell Edizioni in December and The Monet Murders will be published through my own imprint in the summer), audio to arrange (and then files to listen to because I Trust No One).

Oh, and then Samhain announced that, Oopsie! Yes, they were actually closing as previously announced at the same time last year. Which meant scrambling to prepare those 6 titles for re-release: cover art, formatting for print and ebooks... Although, given Samhain's vagueness on when the titles will actually officially revert, I'm wondering if we really did need to scramble. But the point is...TIME. Precious time being gobbled up in chunks of minutes.

So...all those Samhain titles are pretty much ready to go, we're just waiting on the word. I will give readers a heads up: I'm not re-releasing The Dickens With Love until the holiday season--and I might not release Mummy Dearest until I have Bite Club ready to go. But all the other titles will be immediately available, once Samhain releases them to me.

Tick. Tock.

Big, big time suck there.

And there is this First Ever Mini Writer's Retreat, which also took up some time. If that should turn out to be a fun and productive thing, we might even do it again. Every couple of years. Maybe you would want to come?

Oh, and then of course I have a book release this month. Fair Chance, the final book in the All's Fair trilogy, is being released on March 13th.

And there is a blog tour! For which I had to write a LOT of posts. :-D

Here's the line-up:

Tour Schedule: 

Monday, March 6th - Tome Tender - Guest Posts
Tuesday, March 7th - Alpha Book Club - Guest Posts
Wednesday, March 8th - Books,Dreams,Life - Interview (Author or Character)
Thursday, March 9th - Rainy Days and Pajamas - Guest Posts
Friday, March 10th - Gay Book Reviews - Guest Posts
- -
Monday, March 13th - Joyfully Jay -
Tuesday, March 13th - The Silver Dagger Scriptorium - Guest Posts
Wednesday, March 15th - Bayou Book Junkie - Guest Post
Thursday, March 16th - http://dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com - Interview (Author or Character)
Friday, March 17th - Bewitched Bookworms - Guest Post

I won't be live and in person at any of these blogs because--as I mentioned--I'll be at my first ever writer's retreat. (Meaning first ever that I was "responsible" for--usually I am privileged to be the person asking everybody where my hotel is.) But I did write posts and offer a few giveaways. That said, most of the giveaways will be occurring at the Launch Party on my own Fan Page.  I don't want people just showing up to win stuff, but I have to admit, my mods give some seriously cool gifties away. So if you are a fan or do genuinely like to read M/M, you are very welcome to the party. Come! You'll have fun.

I'm hoping that you're seeing a pattern here, and that pattern is...there were a lot of interruptions to the writing. And then came the biggest interruption of all...my laptop died.

Which...you know, I still have a desktop, so I'm not sure why this felt like the end of the line (aside from the fact that I lost all the initial chapters of the writing book--and maybe some other files too) but the truth is I don't "create" at my desktop. I create on a laptop while sitting in a giant, comfy chair in front of a fireplace in my bedroom. :-D My desktop is on a desk in my downstairs office and I have to sit on a yoga ball and be sensible. That is really not what writing fiction is about.

When we come back from the writing retreat, we will have house-guests (beloved house-guests) for a couple of days, and then I have a concert (coz that's a thing in my life) and then, then, THEN I will finally be able to get back to writing The Monet Murders.

You see what I'm getting at.

I had promised to deliver The Monet Murders ahead of schedule--because at one point that looked very doable--and even Blind Side ahead of schedule. But that is not looking realistic now.

Now it looks like I will need to put out a short story in the interim. Plenty of Fish. Because I love short stories, short stories take me about a week to write and I need money.

Yes! I admit freely that as a professional writer, money is the fuel that keeps the engine cranking.

I read the funniest comment in a review a while back. Something to the effect that Josh Lanyon put this book out simply to earn money.

LOL

Uh...why yes. You are correct, little person. I put all my books out to earn money. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. I publish to earn money. I can write for my own pleasure. I need not involve anyone else in that alarming process. To make the hassle and stress of publishing worth it, I need to earn money. That's how I earn my living.

This is not a comment on people who choose to live in their mom's basement. Just saying I have to earn a living. Or why the hell would I go to the exhausting and stressful extreme of publishing my work?! Nobody publishes who doesn't hope to earn money. End of story.

Usually.

But I digress.

This is a very long explanation of why I'm having to recalibrate my previously stated plans. I'm genuinely disappointed at having to delay The Monet Murders and Blind Side.

The Monet Murders is being shoved back to its original April release date. Blind Side...should come out about six weeks later. But. Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans.

So I hope no one is too disappointed. Or at least no more disappointed than me. The books are coming. And I do genuinely believe that it's better they come a little bit late than that I try to shove them through at top speed. I think you would rather I take my time and deliver the best possible product, right?

PREORDER: FAIR CHANCE

Looky what popped up yesterday on Amazon!

Fair Chance, the third and final book in the All's Fair Trilogy, is now available for preorder (it comes out next March.)

BLURB:


Elliot Mills comes face-to-face with evil in this follow-up to Fair Game and Fair Chance from bestselling author Josh Lanyon


One final game of cat and mouse...

Ex-FBI agent Elliot Mills thought he was done with the most brutal case of his career. The Sculptor, the serial killer he spent years hunting, is finally in jail. But Elliot's hope dies when he learns the murderer wasn't acting alone. Now everyone is at risk once again--from a madman determined to finish his partner's gruesome mission. 

When the lead agent on the case, Special Agent Tucker Lance, goes missing, Elliot knows it's the killer at work. After all, abducting the love of his life is the quickest way to hurt him. 

The chances of finding Tucker are all but impossible without the help of the Sculptor--but the Sculptor is in no position to talk. Critically injured in a prison fight, he lies comatose and dying while the clock ticks down. Elliot has no choice but to play this killer’s twisted game and hope he can find Tucker in time.

EXCERPT:

The less time he had to think, the better, Elliot told himself on the drive over to Laurelhurst. He should welcome this distraction. Any distraction.

Until Tucker arrived home—or didn’t—that evening, he was merely speculating, and that was a waste of energy. Tucker would either have a reasonable explanation or he wouldn’t. And if he didn’t, Elliot would kill him. That was all.

And if Tucker didn’t arrive home…

That was where Elliot’s thoughts broke off each time. Beyond that point was barren wasteland, for now the forbidden zone.

He parked in the curving drive in front of MacAuley’s place. There was a red Cadillac SRX in front of the garage, but no other cars around.

He got out, pressed the key fob to lock the Nissan, and started up the walk. Despite the patchy sunlight, it was still raining. No longer a full-on rain, but scattered drops, spangling the grass and splattering against the shrubbery. The air smelled wet and clean and earthy.

The flat, hard bang of a gunshot echoing from inside the house stopped him in his tracks—and then he raced the rest of the way up the slick path.

Reaching the boxed overhang of the front entrance without harm, he ducked down behind a short brick planter. Though he didn’t recall pulling his weapon, he was holding his Glock as he watched the front door, waiting.

The door was half-open, but no one stepped outside.

There was no further sound from inside the house.

A couple of very long seconds passed.

What was this? Not an accident, or the front door would not be standing open. Not a firefight, or there would be shots in return.

Suicide? Not with the front door standing wide-open. Or at least…unlikely.

Homicide?

Attempted homicide at least. MacAuley might be fighting for his life, might be injured, might be in a hostage situation. This could be anything. A burglary gone bad, home invasion, attempted kidnapping. But unless that single shot had been a warning shot, things were not looking good for somebody in that house.

Elliot found his phone, thumbed in 911, still observing the front door.

Emergency dispatch came on the line and Elliot gave him the details for a Code 2. No lights or sirens. Urgent. The address, the number of shots, a possible active shooter, his name and the name of the likely victim.

Dispatch was still requesting additional information when Elliot clicked off, put his phone on vibrate, and started for the front door.

Active shooter situations were always unpredictable. They evolved—and ended—quickly, generally with the arrival of law enforcement. Ten to fifteen minutes. Which was fine—except, depending on where you were hit, you could bleed out in a lot less than ten minutes.

He got to the exterior wall, staying beneath the window. The stucco picked at the wool fibers of his blazer as he leaned back, listening hard, pistol at high ready.

There was no sound from inside. No moans, no footsteps, no nothing. Dead silence.

A dog barked down the street.

Elliot craned his head around the corner for a quick look. He could see a slice of the entry hall. Empty.

His pulse was racing, but he felt weirdly calm. He was conscious of his elevated blood pressure, his accelerated heart rate, all the signs of the inevitable fight-or-flight response, but at the same time he felt almost detached. The whole day was unreal and this was just one more dream-like stop on the way.

Using his free hand to steady himself, he rose and stepped across to the opposite wall in the entry.

He listened intently.

Nothing.

He glanced down at the threshold. No shadow. His own was fortunately blocked by the overhang.

Are you doing this?

He didn’t have to. He could—should—wait for backup. Backup? For LEO. Which he was not. Not anymore.

But it was a rhetorical question. Of course he was doing it.

He used his free hand to soundlessly push the door wide and cross the threshold to buttonhook into the room, weapon at ready as he made sure no one was hiding behind the door.

Clear.

He was past the point of entry and now in what was known in tactical training as the “fatal funnel.” If he was careless enough to get shot, Tucker would— No. Christ, don’t think of Tucker.

For the next ten minutes he could not afford to think of anyone or anything but getting through this. It was not the time to start second-guessing himself.

He swept the empty hall with his weapon, then traveled swiftly along the left wall toward the living room, safely reaching the opposite corner.

Clear.

It did not feel clear though. The house did not feel empty. Elliot’s scalp prickled with tension, and his shirt felt damp beneath the arms. He took a couple of deep breaths. Sticking close to the wall, he moved to the living room doorway and risked a quick glance around the frame. The blinds were partially open, but the rainy light was muted and liquid, creating shadows and the illusion of movement.

Trying to do this on his own was a tactical nightmare.

He made himself focus on the room in front of him while trying to stay alert to his peripheral fields. He could make out indistinct, stationary shapes. Furniture. Potted plants. Blinds.

So far so good. Nobody and nobody.

But his instincts were screaming at him to stay alert, stay sharp. It felt like he had been in the building an hour already. In fact, it was probably no more than a couple of minutes.

His nostrils twitched at the scent of gunpowder…something burning…and blood. Yes, there was no missing that sharp, coppery tang. A lot of blood.

You can preorder through Amazon


Or Kobo


Or iBooks


Or Barnes and Noble

Books and Black Orchids

My writing slump seems to have passed.

Partly, I'm sure, that's due to catching up on all the stuff that was mentally weighing me down. Everything from buying screens for the front windows of the house to arranging for the Italian translation of The Mermaid Murders.

But mostly I think my renewed enthusiasm for writing is due to two things: spending time with friends and family AND reading.

More precisely, reading within the M/M genre.

Last year I read an essay by Matt Bell in the NY Times titled "Influence Looming" wherein he muses "Novels have two primary sources: writer's life experiences or their art experience."

It's a real balancing act. The best fiction is that perfect blend of art and reality. Too often the aspiring author confuses writing fiction with the dutiful documentation of memoirs--and rarely are our own lives as fascinating to others as we imagine. But there's also the danger of being unduly influenced by the work of your peers. You don't want to sound like a third generation recording of a what was once a live performance.

Still, it's important to read in the genre you're working in, and regardless of the medium, all artists are inspired by each others' work. Part of how a genre evolves is through this process of influence. So yes, it was interesting to catch up on what's been happening in the genre over the past couple of years -- sample some of the rising stars and see what old favorites have been up to. There's some great stuff out there, although it feels harder to find those nuggets of gold given how very wide and very deep that river of content has grown.

Anyway, the only thing better than reading is talking books and writing with friends. Especially

talking over cocktails. I discovered something called Black Orchids at our local Yard House and our martini shaker has not been silent since (kidding -- no shaker is involved in this recipe).

Black Orchid
 

 1 ounce Skyy Raspberry Vodka
 1 ounce DeKuyper Blue Curacao
 1 ounce DeKuyper Watermelon Pucker
 Splash: Cranberry juice
 Garnish: none 

I'm not going to share too much information about what I'm working on because I've got several projects going now and only two of them are absolutely certain to be finished this year.

One is Fair Chance, the final book in the All's Fair trilogy. HOWEVER that book won't be released until next year--please don't give me a hard time about it because I have no control of my publisher's release schedule.

The other project is So This is Christmas. It's that long promised Adrien English holiday novella.

(I know, you'd given up hope of that ever happening, but just because it takes me a while doesn't mean I'm not going to follow through on the books I promised.)

Yes, it's a mystery and it picks up right where the holiday codas end. And...and...I think that's pretty much all I'm going to say at this point!

Cheers! Have a Happy Weekend!

2016 in Preview

Regular subscribers will note that I'm late with this morning's post. I did totally forget today was Friday, which is what happens when the writing is going very well--which it is.

I've changed up my creative process this year -- well, actually I started last year with A Case of Christmas. The first big change is I'm giving myself loads of time to write everything. "Loads of time" translating to charting out a writing schedule that requires no more than 1500 - 2000 words a day. This is a very comfortable pace which leaves time for research, rewriting, chortling over Donald Trump's latest bon mot and staring blankly into space.

 Secondly I'm writing the way I used to -- this is a bit trickier -- and doing a lot of skipping around and writing out of order. You can't do this if you're pressured for time because you lose emotional continuity. But because I have plenty of time, I feel comfortable sketching out scenes and conversations out of order, as inspiration occurs.  What I like about this, especially when writing mystery, is it allows me opportunity to go back and plant clues -- both physical and psychological. Plus it's just a way more enjoyable way to work. Like popping pieces into a giant puzzle.

I'm not saying that everyone should work this way -- actually, that reminds me. What is it with all these defensive posts about NOT TAKING WRITING ADVICE FROM ANYONE ELSE!!! Good heavens. There are actual memes on the topic of not taking writing advice. :-D Speaking for myself, I love books on writing, books on craft. Heck, I'm planning on taking a screenwriting course this year. Not because I think I'm going to sell a screenplay. But because I am wholeheartedly in favor of anything that stretches and tests my writing brain. My writing muscles. I've been writing professionally a long time. As in selling my writing to publishers since I was sixteen. I've forgotten more about writing than some of my contemporaries have yet learned. :-D  But that forgetting, is why I'm all in favor of refresher courses and writing books and so forth. Why do people get angry at the idea they may have more to learn. OF COURSE YOU HAVE MORE TO LEARN. Unless you are Yoda, you have more to learn. About everything. We ALL do. Until the day we die.

Anyway, I think that defensive, huffy attitude is at odds at becoming the writer we all eventually hope to be.

But I digress.

I don't have a lot set in stone for this year. Partly that is because I have a ginormous mainstream project that I'm doing with the SO. MR AND MRS MURDER: HUSBAND AND WIFE SLEUTHS IN DECTECTIVE FICTION is due to McFarland Press at the end of the year. We have a zillion books to read and one hell of a lot of essays to write. So that is pretty much my year.

Ground-breaking stuff, I assure you. (Actually, I sound like I'm kidding, but I'm not -- this is a big deal.)

In addition to that, I've got The Mermaid Murders (Book I of the Art of Murder trilogy) due out March 1st.  What do you get when you combine a special agent from the FBI Art Crime Team with the top profiler/manhunter from the BAU units? A lot of art-loving serial killers. No, I'm kidding. Partly. Partly not. I think I will write this series pretty fast, with a book out each year.

Then there is a little bitty surprise project which I am superstitiously not going to talk about yet.

Officially next up, Murder Takes the High Road. This is an amateur sleuth standalone for Carina Press. A lonely librarian finds murder and love on a tour bus wending its cumbersome way through the Scottish Highlands. Also the secret cache of whisky in the back of the bus. NOT BASED ON TRUE INCIDENTS. Except the whisky part.

Then there is a lot of room--about three months?-- to do some other projects and I am leaving that stretch of boundless possibility blank for now. Because that's part of the fun, part of the excitement of  being a self-employed artist. (The flip side is never knowing if you will be able to pay the bills.) What should I write? Since I'm reading all these historical mysteries, maybe it makes sense to write historical. The sequel to Snowball? The sequel to This Rough Magic? I need to finish Slay Ride... What? What should I do?

Not knowing is kind of luxurious.

Then, final contracted project (again to Carina Press) for the year, Fair Chance. This is the third and final book in the All's Fair trilogy. We'll be talking about that one quite a bit more I have no doubt. This is the farewell to Elliot Mills and Tucker Lance. Elliot must confront jailed serial killer Andrew Corian -- who may have picked up an apprentice or a copycat killer in the interim.

So that's what we know for sure. The rest of the year is wide open to opportunity and possibility. And that is just the way I like it.