Hi all!
OK, status update: GRAND THEFT SORCERY, my LA-based spinoff of Good Intentions, is with my editor and cover art is in production! Editor says it looks good so far, but she's not finished. As soon as I see her final notes & I'm assured I don't need any major rewrites, I'll pitch it to Audible and see how they feel about it. Audio will happen one way or another; that's just a matter of timing.
Chances are real good this book will come out in the next month-ish, depending on what I hear from my editor and/or Audible.
And in the meantime, I have started up writing on Good Intentions 5! I've barely scratched the surface, but hey, I have a prologue done!
In the meantime, it's been a bit since I shared a snippet from Grand Theft Sorcery, so here you go!
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“I am in L.A. to cos-play and take many, many pictures and videos.” Sunday cranked her natural Chicano accent to eleven, right along with the rest of her performance at the hotel check-in desk—all except for her volume. She kept that part low and conspiratorial, just for herself, the clerk, and the other staffer within earshot behind the counter.
Her long black coat was brand new, bought on the way over. So were the big sunglasses and the sweatpants. Incognito, but conspicuous about it, she had told Evan.
“We’ve gotta bring in a bunch’a stuff,” Sunday continued. “It’s all safe, all costumes and camera gear, but it’s gotta be on the DL. That’s the ‘why’ on the payment. I don’t need another stalker showing up at my room. I need my fans to follow and comment and like and subscribe and cloudfund.” She paused, frowned, and looked back to Evan. “Is that right?”
“Crowdfund,” he said, wishing to God she’d dial it back. At least that gave his performance a natural feel—he hoped. Exhausted photographer/boyfriend, she had told him. The bags hanging from his shoulders and his hands helped. The backwards ballcap on his head felt all wrong, but Sunday insisted.
She also insisted on stomping all over his rules of subterfuge.
“Anyways.” She leaned in, hand up near her mouth, and whispered, “It’s not porn, is what I’m saying. I know people do that in hotels. That’s not me. Cool?”
“Miss, you’re totally fine.” The clerk fought a grin through the whole spiel. She lost that fight but managed not to laugh. “You’re all checked in and your deposit is covered. We’re very serious about privacy. If anyone asks, you’re not here. And people bring in lots of luggage all the time, especially for long stays. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Okay. Okay. You’re sure?” Her eyes narrowed. “If anyone asks for me with less than a warrant, I am not here.”
“Of course, Ms. Ramirez. Or whoever you are.” The clerk winked.
Sunday winked back bigger. “Come on, Steven,” she said, and then turned. “Oh. Also. Do you have like a, one of those push-thingies? A dollar?”
“Dolly,” said Evan. “Baggage cart. I found them. Which elevator goes to the garage?”
“Right over there. Your card lets you skip the lobby, so you can go straight up to your floor,” said the clerk. “If you need any help, let us know.”
Sunday sauntered across the marble-tiled lobby toward the main elevators. Evan followed closely, face turned low and bags bouncing against his back and hips. They caught only a couple glances from passing guests. He spoke before they reached the elevators and the inevitable security cameras. “Did we need to lay it on that thick? Or at all?” Evan murmured.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Trust me. Misdirection is good.”
“It’s not about trust. I just don’t see how misdirection is better than, like, no direction. Wouldn’t it be better to get completely ignored?”
“Yes. We’re not light enough for that,” said Sunday. “We raise too many flags with the payment and the baggage. If you can’t go ignored, next best thing is to be too annoying to watch. They’re hotel staff. ‘Needy and obnoxious’ is just another Tuesday in a place like this. For every real celebrity or VIP, they see twenty nobodies who think they’re somebody.”