FIRST UP: GoodReads winners -- there were 1874 entries for the Sleight giveaway on GoodReads. Two winners were drawn from the entries, taken care of by the lovely people at GR. Congrats to...
Ladies, your signed books will go out next week as it is Canada Day here today, and 4th of July on Monday. I will be mailing out of the US (I cross the border to mail books as the service/cost is so much better!), so be ready! Thank you to everyone who participated. And tell me this, non-winners: If I offer a discount on the e-book of Sleight for a limited time, would you feel compelled to purchase? Are you a physical book sorta human? What about a discount on a paperback, purchased direct through me? Just wonderin'. It seems that with 1872 non-winners, a girl would at least attract a few new readers, but what do I know. And as I am doing a mailing next week, let me know so I can count you in!
Don't despair if you didn't win this time. I have giveaways coming up on a number of other blogs. I have to continue to push this book into the faces of potential readers. Have you shared it with anyone today (or conversely, have you warned anyone to stay away)? Word-of-mouth, people. Let's make it happen.
One other thing: to the awesome, amazing, fantastic humans who have taken the time out of their busy lives to write me emails and post on my Facebook wall -- I promise you it is me who is responding. It is not an assistant. The thought that I would have an assistant makes me giggle a little, but unless you count a 17-, 9-, or 6-year-old, or even one temperamental 12-year-old Brown Lazy Cat on the payroll, it's just me. Promise.
Onto the news you likely don't care to know:
Driving in the car yesterday, en route to accomplishing a variety of annoying tasks (remember, everything is annoying when I am away from my computer. I like being home. I do not like traffic. I especially do not like traffic when everyone is leaving work early so they can get their three-day weekend started sooner. Today, Friday, is Canada Day. Like 4th of July, only not).
Kendon, age 6: "Mommy, if you think Mark Strong is so hot, why don't you ask him on a date?"
Me: (laughing loudly) "I wish."
Then I had to explain why married people can't date other folks, and how Mark Strong is a big, famous, beautiful movie star who would not give me the time of day if I bought him a Rolex and a megaphone. Here he is, just in case you're confused:
He's Lord Blackwood from Sherlock Holmes. He's Godfrey from Robin Hood. He's Frank D'Amico in Kick-Ass. He's Sinestro in The Green Lantern, among a ton of other stellar performances (RocknRolla, Young Victoria with Emily Blunt, Body of Lies with diCaprio and Crowe, assloads of British stuff because he's British, and we all know that British actors are hottttttt). BUT, he is also my villain. Lucian. While writing Sleight, it was Strong's face I envisioned the entire friggin' time. And as Lucian is my favorite character, I tend to be a little...obsessed...with Mark Strong. I can't help it. I'm so ashamed. (Okay, I'm totally not, but it helps if I at least attempt contrition so that Husband doesn't worry that it's Mark Strong I'm fantasizing about...even if I am. Omigod, shut up!!!)
Back on task: After the errands were finished, we treated ourselves to cheeseburgers. We never go out to eat (have I whined about how stupid expensive everything in Canada is? What? Not today? Okay. This is me whining: Canada is stupid expensive), but we decided that as no one wanted to cook (Husband...I never cook...) and no one wanted to do the dishes (Yaunna...lazy arse), and considering I hadn't eaten my daily granola bar and last ate hours prior, my morning peanut-butter-on-wheat-toast, and thus my eyes were sorta buggin' out of my head from starvation, we went for cheeseburgers.
I ran out of beverage and didn't want to bother the waitress for a refill, especially as I likely wouldn't finish it and that would then be wasteful. (I have a guilty conscience, on so many levels.) Instead, I plunked my straw into Brennan's root beer, as we were sitting adjacent, and we slurped together, like sweethearts at a soda fountain. He scrunched his 9-year-old face up in an attempt to be older than he is -- what he called his "movie star face" (the same one he and his dad use when making fun of Robert Pattinson and Ian Somerhalder) -- and said to me, "I'm Mark Strong. And you're beautiful."
Again with the Mark Strong reference. I've damaged my children.
Husband, sitting across the table, says, "Hey, don't you look at my wife that way, you mean MarkStrong, you." Brennan giggled, movie-starred his face once again and said -- yes -- he really said this:
"Well, maybe you should shed a few pounds there, buddy."
OMIGOD. He said that, out loud. Good thing my husband has a killer sense of humor. He howled, although I wouldn't be surprised if it did sting a little to hear something like that from his kid. Even in jest. And Brennan! Shame on you, child! Telling your dad to lose weight. Even if YOU weren't telling him that, even if was MarkStrong telling him that... Husband isn't a fatty. He just doesn't wear the same size pants as he did when we got married. Neither do I, though.
It was funny. Maybe you had to be there. Out of the mouths of babes.
Next post: Why Feral Cats Are Meant to Stay Feral
Happy Canada Day!
Happy 4th of July!
Xs and Os...