Sleeping on the Job

Simon's book just went off on submission! It's a bit shorter than previous works, but it sort of needed to be, I think. A lot happens though. Simon has a lot of growing up to do, and this is the book where the training wheels come off, so to speak.

In other news, I have another submission out in the ether, a high fantasy novel of epic proportions which I think everyone will enjoy. Different from my usual fare I'd say but the humor is still there and there are several darling boys for you all to fall in love with.

I'm working on How to Breathe Fire at the moment, which will be the next in the YA, Guidebook series. It's more of a prequel than a sequel, as it deals mostly with William, the dragon introduced in Vampirism and You! He has quite a backstory and it's been a blast digging into his past.

In other Night Shift news, I've started work on  The Evil Eye, which will be Jack's book, and I'm hoping to finish and submit it time for a Christmas release date. Prior to that will be The Hellfire Boys, which at this stage is turning out to be an anthology from Ian's perspective.

I'm trying to finish twelve drafts this year (one a month, I'm crazy), and I'm a bit behind so I'm racing to catch up. I moved house last month, so things were a bit more hectic than usual, not allowing for much writing time, blogging time or really, any time that wasn't spent packing and/or getting things ready to move.

I'm happy to say that I'm settled into the new place with Sophia and we're much happier. Location is everything.

In the meantime, here's a little snippet of Sleeping on the Job.

“Simon, I’m heading to work, you want a ride in?” Gabriel asked.

I’d spent the night at his apartment, which for all practical purposes was a warzone. He wasn’t exactly a neat person. We’d been doing this a lot these last couple weeks. Spending the night. Sometimes at his place, sometimes at a hotel. I couldn’t take him to my place, Fynn would find out and never let me live it down. It kind of sucked living with two other guys sometimes.

Well, two other guys and their adorable eight and a half-year-old daughter and demonic seven and quarter-year-old son. And a pixie. Fynn and Jack saved my miserable ass so I had to be appreciative, they also saved my job, which was why I was living with them—well that and Fynn was bound and determined to be the father figure I’d been lacking and keep me on the straight and narrow.

Once you’ve started taking strange purple pills from hobgoblins, it’s a clear sign you need serious help. Lucky for me, Fynn had provided. Unlucky for me, until I got my shit together, really together, I was stuck living with them.

So I spent the night at Gabriel’s.

I rubbed crud out of my eyes and blinked at my beau. “Coffee?”

He shook his head. “You are the most hung-over looking sober man I have ever seen.” He walked into the kitchen and poured me a cup while I peeled myself off of the couch. My back creaked in several places a nineteen-year-old shouldn’t be creaking.

“We are so never fucking on that fucking couch, ever again.” I stretched, cracking vertebrae back into alignment. “That is the couch the devil built. Why do you not replace it?”

“Why are you talking like that?” He emerged from the kitchen and pressed the warm mug of black coffee into my hands. “Drink. Wake up. Answer my original question.”

I took a drink of coffee, he pushed hair out of my face with a sort of lazy smile. I managed to smile back.

“Sure, I could use a ride. I think my wallet is in my office.”

“Given that I paid for dinner last night, yes, yes it is.”

“How is it I forget shit even when I don’t drink?” I shook my head. “It makes no sense.” It made some sense though. My ability sometimes overloaded my head, giving me sort of a hangover, only worse. “Did I leave any of those pills here last time?” My meds were supposed to help. I had no idea what was in them. Dr. Chan, the Night Shift’s shrink and doctor, cooked them up with Bronson, House One’s resident witch. I think they were mostly ancient herbs and things I didn’t really want to know about.

“I think so.” Gabriel headed back into the kitchen and looked through some cabinets, coming up with a small orange bottle with a prescription label on it that was totally bogus. “This it?”

“Yeah.”

He popped the top off and poured me out a pair. I opened my mouth and he rolled his eyes, but placed both pills on my tongue. I drowned them with coffee and he tucked the bottle into my front jeans pocket.

“Thanks.” I gave him a quick kiss, took another drink of the coffee and set about finding my shirt and shoes. “And what the hell is up with your music selections for sex? While I’m on the topic of things that bother me during sex. Couldn’t we, I don’t know, throw in some Tool? ACDC? Anything but Garth Brooks?”

“I like Garth Brooks.”

“Dude, you’d marry Garth Brooks if he swung the right way.” I found my shirt under the couch and put it on, relieved it was mostly clean.

“And you have an unhealthy obsession with that kick boxer.”

“Mixed martial arts expert,” I corrected. “And who wouldn’t? He’s all—fit.”

“Uh huh. Your shoes are by the door. Let’s hurry along now, I have a big meeting to get to.”

I stifled a yawn and gathered up my shoes, black and white Converse that looked out of place in the forest of black and brown dress shoes and dusty cowboy boots already next to Gabriel’s front door. “Yeah, yeah. And I have to—do something. I’m sure.”

“I bet Fynn has something for you to do.”

I shrugged. “Things have been pretty quiet recently. Mostly we’ve just been getting things more settled. The renovations at the last station wrapped up last month so I finally got my own space back—it was no fun at all sharing with Fynn—probably spend most of the day shifting papers again.”

“The exciting life of a government employee.”

“Very.” It was better than what I’d been doing before Fynn dragged me out of the fucking gutter. The days when I was still a thief, dodging my way out from under my father’s thumb.