Yearning for with Amy Lane

Greetings from the Caribbean! It's raining here today so I thought I'd do a bonus post with actual content--the amazing Amy Lane (of Talker and Keeping Promise Rock fame) has dropped by to share some thoughts on the agony of new releases.

(And don't forget, I'll be guest-blogging tomorrow at Simply Sexy Stories. You don't want to miss that one!)

Speaking of new releases, here's the cover and blurb for Amy's:

Teague’s in the game for redemption, and Jack’s in the game for Teague. Can they both get what they need at Green’s Hill?

Jack and Teague are human ‘hunters’, who have been recruited to work as liaisons between the preternatural world of Green’s Hill and the ignorant humans that surround it. Teagues in the game for redemption – and Jack’s in the game for Teague.

Teague Sullivan is damaged and haunted – and about the loneliest man Jack has ever met. But Jack sees beyond his scars and his gruffness to kind and valiant man underneath. Unfortunately, Teague sees beneath Jack’s overtures to the naive, green idealist, and although Teague loves him, he makes it clear that a scarred old dog like himself will never be good enough for a sweet young pup like Jacky.

While the argument’s raging, Jack is injured in the line of duty and the two hunters are abruptly sucked into the paranormal world that they’ve been defending.  Teague is forced to reevaluate everything he’s believed about the two of them. He may be old and damaged, but that doesn’t mean he can let his Jacky go somewhere without him, does it?

(Be aware that future books in this series contain m/m/f menage.)

And now I turn the floor over to Amy--who is seriously one of the funniest ladies you'll ever have the pleasure to meet--beneath the jump.

Hi, all!  So honored to be here on Rachel’s blog!  *waves at Rachel! * 

Uhm, now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go fetal in public, suck my thumb, and whine a little. 

Don’t mind me—really!  I do this with every new release.  Seriously—there’s ALWAYS a reason I’m sure people won’t like it.  I’ve done something different, I’ve broken a rule—in this case, I’m writing a ménage novella series instead of an m/m stand-alone or Promise story.  It doesn’t matter.  I’m POSITIVE it won’t sell, and I’m REALLY positive that people will yell at me for something I did wrong. 

Of course, some of this angst could be scars from self-publishing.  My first six books were self-published, and, well…the first three were so shitacularly edited that I’m surprised that the grammar police didn’t make an exception and actually ARREST me instead of just humiliating me in public.  I’ve likened the experience to having my dress shoved inside my pantyhose in front of ten thousand people.  Some of them are going to look at you sympathetically and say, “It’s a pretty dress!”  or, “Well, other than that, the ensemble really works!”  Some of them are going to scream, “Learn how to dress, you frickin’ moron!” and some of them are going to huff off and say, “Well, if she can’t learn how to dress, she’s not worth looking at!” and then stalk away making that same kicking motion my cat uses to get cat litter off its dainty feet. 

Let’s face it—you deal with that sort of thing for six or so years, and, well, when you put out anything new, you prepare to duck, for fear of flying cat litter (or, worse, flying clumps of cat litter… EWWWWW!!!) 

It doesn’t matter if you have a publisher (or two) now—it doesn’t matter that you’ve got an army of beta readers prepared to smack you across the face with wet pasta and scream, “What in the hell is this—fix it, dammit!” because they love you.  What matters is that you remember what it felt like to have your dress shoved up your panty-hose and be covered in cat litter.  Let’s face it.  That sort of experience is gonna stick!  (Okay—say it with me now.  Ewww!)  

So even though I LOVE my new cover from Torquere, and even though Jack and Teague (and Katy) are close to my heart and have their own fan base from when these stories were published online, well… 

I’m fetal, on the floor, with my thumb in my mouth. 

But then I remind myself that Teague is the awesomest of tortured heroes ever.  Beaten as a child, brainwashed into being a hating machine, all he wanted from Green’s hill is redemption.  Green (the leader of the supernatural world in Northern California) paired him with Jack, the dreamer/student, and asked them both to act as intermediaries between the supernatural word and the human world, and to help him out of tough spots.  Of course Jack falls in love.  Even totally straight guys would have a man-crush on Teague—he’s just big restaurant-dumpsters full of tortured-macho-awesome.  People want to kick cat litter on me and my fashion choices? That’s fine.  But if people kick cat-litter on Teague, he’s gonna kick their weenie asses and angst about it later.  Maybe.

I mean, I’ve got a wiry little muscle-body full of tasty-yummy manhood, I can’t afford to go fetal, can I?  I’ve got to stand up and make neon-signs that point him out and say, “This here is Teague!  He’s a wood-erecting panty-wetter, and you’re gonna want to root for him!” 

Right?

Right. 

So you all see that wolf? 

That there is Teague.  He’s a wood-erecting panty-wetter, and he’s all Jack’s. 

Or so Jack thinks. 

Enjoy the hell out of him—I am!

*waves at Rachel *  Thanks for the guest spot, sweetie!  I’m off to edit Teague’s next story, Waiting.  Mm…. more Teague…