Memories of Thailand

July 29, 2011

It was an easy decision to set Rarer Than Rubies in Thailand. I’ve traveled a lot, and even lived abroad for many years, but Thailand is a place that’s very special to me.

I first visited on my way to start working in Tokyo. I had a job offer to work as an economist, but the company hadn’t opened their office yet, so they told me to take a vacation and they’d call me when they had my start date.

I did just that, and I wasn’t in any hurry. I spent about three months in Europe before I hit Italy, where I spent another four months. Still no start date from the new job, but I was having such fun I was glad!

When I got to Thailand I had already been in India for about three months, and I was so pleased at the really laid-back and friendly Thais. They call Thailand the “Land of Smiles” and it’s really very true. Everyone is smiling and they greet you with a “wai” or hands pressed together.

I love Thai food and I’m a huge fan of street food. I’m not afraid of eating from a cart or have a guy cook for me on little fire on the sidewalk. So Thailand was another form of heaven for me. The street food was fantastic. I admit I didn’t try any of the bugs that some carts were selling, but there was plenty to choose from. Lots of different soups or noodles, or my favorite was a guy selling duck around the corner from one of the guest houses I stayed at in Bangkok. He and his duck make an appearance in the book.

I also love coconut and there are plenty of Thai foods and drinks with coconut. I’ll be sharing an excerpt with one of those a little late. It’s interesting that in Asia coconut drinks and coconut water are common street drinks that cost pennies, yet here in the US they are just now making an appearance in grocery stores: for about 2 dollars a serving!

One thing I didn’t get to do in Thailand was visit the beaches. I chose to spend my time in the cities including the far north east and north west. It was wonderful to get out of the more touristy areas and see what more normal life was like in Thailand. I found friendly people everywhere who answered questions for me about all sorts of things. When visiting a temple I met a Thai-born American man who was spending a month as a monk. All Thais do this at some point in their lives, and even though this man lived in the US he had come back to do this. I asked him a million questions about it and he patiently answered all of them.

Among my favorite places was Sukhothai which was the old capital, with many temples and Buddha statues in ruins. I didn’t get a chance to use the location in the book, since the characters didn’t go there, and it was too bad. I took about a million photos when I was there. There were a lot of little ponds with huge lilypads, with giant pink flowers. Definitely one of the most memorable places on my trip!

So, I hope you’ll visit Thailand with me (and Trent and Reed), follow in my footsteps and live some of the wonderful experiences I had in Thailand. Check out Rarer Than Rubies!

Feel free to ask more questions here, if you like!

–EM Lynley

Rarer Than Rubies by EM Lynley, Excerpt 1

July 29, 2011

Paperback, 214 pages

When Trent Copeland runs into Reed Acton at a Bangkok airport, he thinks the handsome American is too good to be true. Why would someone like Reed be interested in a quiet, introverted gay-romance writer? After all, even an obvious tourist like Trent can see that there is more to Reed’s constant unexplained appearances in his path than meets the eye.

Reed Acton has one mission and one mission only—he needs to get the map that was accidentally slipped into Trent’s bag and keep the mobsters who want the priceless artifact from taking deadly revenge. Trent Copeland is a delicious and damned near irresistible diversion, but Reed can’t afford distractions right now, especially if he wants to keep Trent safe.

From Bangkok’s seediest back alleys to the sacred north, the two men will fight to stay one step ahead of the bad guys and learn that the only treasure worth finding is… each other.



“WE’LL be landing in Bangkok in approximately thirty minutes.”

The voice over the loudspeaker broke into Trent Copeland’s consciousness and he pushed it away, thinking it was simply part of his dream. He attempted to return to the comfort of his slumber.

“Sir, your immigration card.” Someone shook his shoulder and pushed an official-looking form at him, and he realized he wasn’t dreaming at all. It was real. And about to get even more real.

He blinked and sat up, bringing his reclining seat to a sitting position. He heard, as well as felt, a shift, as the jet literally changed gears and began its descent.

For a moment he stared at the paper, trying to trace the steps that had brought him here. Had it been only two weeks earlier that he’d been jolted out of the security of his routine by an unexpected and unwelcome phone call from his literary agent?

What had he been thinking, letting Beth and Cassandra plan this trip for him?

He better get plenty of inspiration for his next novel, or plenty of sex—or both—or someone was going to be in big trouble when he got back. If he got back. He took a deep breath and pressed his face to the tiny window, wondering what lay in store for him once he landed.

- 1 -

Two weeks earlier

Los Angeles, California

THIS wasn’t really happening. It had never happened to him before. Okay, once. But never twice—in a row. His friends told him it was natural and sooner or later it happened to everyone. Now it was happening to Trent.

“Rejected? What’re you talking about, rejected?”

“Trent, honey, I’m sorry. The publisher isn’t interested this time around.” Cassandra’s slightly British-accented voice came through the phone clear as crystal, but still Trent didn’t think he’d heard her correctly.

“Why not? I’m one of their top-selling authors!” If there were a New York Times best-seller list for gay erotic romance, every one of his books would have been on it. “Aren’t I?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he sounded like a child.

Trent got up from the couch, tipping his Siamese cat Godiva off his lap and causing her to loudly meow her displeasure as she landed on all fours. Trent paced around the living room, cordless phone pressed tightly to his ear. He wished he had a phone with a cord so he could twist it around his editor’s neck. No, Cass’s neck. What the hell kind of agent was she, if she couldn’t sell either of his last two books?

“Yes, Trent, you are one of the top sellers, but your editor told me she’d read this one already. Twice.”

“What the fuck? I just finished it! How could she have read it twice? Is she a psychic as well as an editor?” He stopped in the middle of the living room and Godiva, who had been tagging along at his heels, crashed into him with a less-than-ladylike snarl. She hopped back onto the vacant couch, out of his way.

“Well, honey, it is an awful lot like the last one you wrote, you know?” Cassandra’s voice rose ever so slightly at the end of the sentence, as if he actually were a child she wanted to appease. It didn’t work.

“Grrr,” was all he could manage in reply. He started pacing again, trying to burn off anger and nervous energy while he crafted a suitable response. “What kind of agent are you, anyway? You’re supposed to get them to want it.”

“Trent, honey, I’m a pretty good agent, but I’m not a miracle worker. You always have the option of coming up with a new pen name and I can shop this to someone else.”

“No!” Trent practically shouted. He remembered how hard it had been choosing a pen name in the first place. He and his two best friends since college days, Beth and Mick, had sat around in his crummy old apartment tossing around ideas; he’d had to endure asinine suggestions such as I.M. Hung from Mick. Finally, with Cassandra’s input, he’d settled on J.T. Dallas, though he came from a little town in Oklahoma and hated when people thought he was Texan. But Cassandra said Texas sounded sexy to readers and Dallas brought back images of the rich and ruthless, which always helped sell romance. She’d been right, as usual, and it had proved a good decision. Since then, she’d been much more than an agent. She’d not only helped shape his heretofore successful career, but had become one of his closest and most-trusted friends.

He realized Cassandra had been talking while he’d been strolling down memory lane and he struggled to catch up to what she was saying.

“… but I think you just need a little change of pace, a vacation or something. Get a new perspective,” Cassandra went on. “Shake things up a bit and spark your creativity….”

“I don’t know how they can say this is like the last one!” He wasn’t giving up. “This one is about a cowboy and a NASA scientist, while the last one was about a university professor and a… cowboy….” His voice trailed off at the end. “Okay, maybe there are some similarities. Slight similarities.” He couldn’t even convince himself. No wonder the editor had thrown it back.

“You’ve finished two books already this year. Take some well-earned time off and spend some of those fat royalty checks you’re piling up.”

“I don’t need a vacation.”

“Yes, you do. You can’t just sit around all day watching Turner Classic Movies and Lifetime.”

Trent grabbed the TV remote and quickly hit the mute button. Damn, she knew him entirely too well.

“Give me a call in a couple of days and we’ll go for lunch with Beth and you can tell me where you decide to go for your vacation, okay? Gotta run, sweetie. Love you!”

Cassandra disconnected and Trent tossed the phone onto the couch, narrowly missing Godiva, who meowed imperiously before racing for safety behind the television.

“Sorry, baby.” Trent plopped himself down on the couch and pouted while he figured out what to do next.

Maybe Cass was right and a vacation wasn’t such a bad idea. He had gotten into a rut. He glanced down at the carpet and wouldn’t have been surprised to find he’d worn a trail into the floor following the same path over and over and over. He should visit the travel agent around the corner and pick up some brochures. Better yet, he’d call Beth and she could help him choose a destination.

He’d get right on that, after he finished watching Now, Voyager, one of his favorite films. He adored the classic scene where Paul Henreid lights two cigarettes at once, before handing one to Bette Davis. It made him want to take up smoking, the way the Thin Man films left him craving dry martinis. Trent clicked on the volume, grabbed a box of tissues, and settled back onto the couch.


Stay tuned for another excerpt!

Rarer than Rubies is here!

July 29, 2011

Happy Friday, Everyone!

I’m taking my first spin here for a release party to celebrate Rarer Than Rubies coming out.

For those of you who don’t know me, I’m EM Lynley, though everyone calls me Em. I realized I should have used punctuation in my name, but it’s not a big deal.

I write only m/m erotic romance. I’ve got two titles with Dreamspinner, and I’ve got other books published elsewhere, but today I’m here to talk Rubies.

Most of my work is contemporary, but I do have one paranormal title I wrote and three paranormal/fantasy anthos I’ve edited, and I’ll definitely be writing more paranormal in the future!  I’ve also been working on my first sci-fi story that I really want to get finished.  It’s been fun stretching my boundaries in terms of writing.

I am a former economist so if you see something about finance in one of my stories, you’ll know why. Now I’m living near San Francisco, and I’ve worked in London, Tokyo, and Washington, D.C.

Some of my guilty pleasures: 80′s music, Law & Order reruns, and just about anything that has coconut in it.

Who wants to admit to your own guilty pleasures?

EM Lynley

contest winner and thank you!

July 28, 2011

Thanks for letting me spam your RSS readers today and thanks to everyone who took the time to read the excerpts and ponder my trivia. I had a great time.

And now for the big winner…


Beatrice, please send me an email at kate at and I’ll send you a copy of the book!

Thanks again, everyone. This was fun! You can also check me out on the interwebs here:
@katemcmwriter on Twitter

And the book comes out tomorrow! You can purchase it here!

(Confetti image from smcgee on Flickr.)

Blind Items excerpt #3

July 28, 2011

I shrugged and stood up. “I should probably get going home.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Where do you live?”

“I’m renting out the ground floor of a house in Boerum Hill.”

“Oh. I’ve always liked Boerum Hill. How do you like it?” I walked outside, wincing at the wall of humidity that hit me as we left the air-conditioned bar. The weather clearly hadn’t gotten the memo about it being fall.

“It’s nice. I’m on Dean Street. It’s a pretty neighborhood.”

And then this bit of stupidity slipped from my lips: “Ah. Well, I’m not too far from there. Do you want to share a cab?”

“Sure, all right.”

I was afraid to say anything important. I proposed walking towards First Avenue because it would be easier to get a cab there. I shoved my hands in my pockets to curb the temptation to touch him, and we walked in companionable silence, speaking only to comment on the temperature or to warn each other away from detritus on the sidewalk. When we got to First Avenue, I held up my hand and we got a cab fairly quickly. I directed the cabbie to go over the Brooklyn Bridge.

We hit traffic near Canal Street. Jonathan looked out the window and groaned. “Look at all the kids out. Clubbing on a Wednesday? Really?”

“Kids? Aren’t you only twenty-five?”

“Twenty-six. Too old for that scene.”

“Aw, come on. You didn’t go through that phase when you were right out of college and finally living on your own, when you just went nuts? I remember being twenty-three and… God, I did a lot of stupid things.”

“Yeah?” He looked like he wanted to ask what those stupid things were. I wasn’t anxious to volunteer. A lot of going home with the wrong men, more risky sex than I was really willing to confess to. But Jonathan just said, “No, I never went through a phase like that.”

“And yet you drink like a fish.”

Jonathan sighed. “I was nervous tonight.”

The parade of stupid continued when I heard myself ask, “Do I make you nervous?” Jonathan’s eyes widened, which was all the answer I needed. Breaking through the Great Wall of Denial would be the challenge here. Whispering, I said, “My editor wanted me to out you in the article, but I couldn’t do it. I want you to know that.”

Jonathan closed his eyes. Then the light changed and the cabbie raced through the intersection at Canal Street and hit a pothole hard, jostling us passengers, who hadn’t bothered with seat belts. I was pushed towards Jonathan, and I put out my hand to prevent myself from falling over his lap. Instead, my hand landed on his thigh, and when the cab was moving smoothly again, I found I was leaning against him, his face just inches from mine, our lips perfectly aligned.

“Uh…,” Jonathan said.

I listened as the cabbie chatted in Arabic to the hands-free device in his ear. “That guy hardly speaks English. He doesn’t know who you are.”

“Doesn’t change anything.”

“It does. You can be someone else, if only for as long as you’re in this cab.”

“Who would I be?”

“Whoever you want, babe.”

Jonathan parted his lips but didn’t move closer. I was close enough that when I opened my mouth to say something else, my lips brushed against his. “Are you attracted to me?” I whispered.

“Drew, please don’t—”

“It’s a simple question.”


We hung there, mouths poised to touch, not moving, breathing hard. Then the cab pulled onto the bridge and jostled us together again. I smashed my lips against Jonathan’s.

Blind Items excerpt #2

July 28, 2011

Rey and I did not see eye to eye on interior decorating, which was something I got a an earful about during a brief interlude when Rey was having the top floor of his house re-done. I decided to let him stay with me, meaning he slummed it by camping out on the futon in my living room. It was a mod furniture special with a lime-green cover on the mattress. I liked things that were clean and modern and brightly colored. Rey’s house was more muted and decorated in what I thought of as “pricey cheap,” furniture he paid full price for at high-end shops but that looked like it could have been bought at a thrift store.

Anyway, he’d told me on many occasions that he thought my futon couch was maybe the ugliest thing he’d ever set eyes on, so I was somewhat surprised to find him asleep on it when I came in one afternoon. He’d kept his keys from when he’d stayed with me in case of emergency, which usually meant that he just let himself in if he was coming to see me instead of knocking like a normal person.

I stood over him for a moment, and he slowly opened his eyes. I said, “Don’t you have those overstuffed monstrosities in your own house for use at nap time?”

Rey rubbed his eyes and sat up. “Oh, sure,” he said, “but I thought what I really needed was an unsatisfying nap and some back pain. What the hell is this stuffed with, Styrofoam?”

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I wanted your advice on something.”

I sat and draped an arm over the back of the futon. I flicked at an errant lock of Rey’s hair with the tip of my finger. “Don’t do it,” I said.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask yet.”

“No, but I recognize that expression on your face. That’s the look you get when you’re going to ask my opinion on something but already know I won’t approve. I’m saving us time, see.”

“You and the high horse. I don’t know where you get off judging me, like you’re so righteous. You’re so afraid of anything bad happening that you don’t ever take any risks anymore.”

I tried not to get too defensive, primarily because I didn’t want him to know that he was kind of right. “I take risks,” I said.

“No, you don’t. I talked to Allie. She said you hardly ever go out anymore because you’re still avoiding Aaron.”

Geez Louise, why was everyone so obsessed with this? “I’m not avoiding Aaron.”

“If you’re not going to the places where you and Aaron used to hang out because you’re afraid of running into him, you’re avoiding Aaron.”

“I prefer to think of it as giving us both space.”

“So it’s true.”

I shrugged. Okay, so maybe I was avoiding Aaron. But there were armed conflicts that had more peaceful resolutions than our relationship. I deserved some slack. I tried to sound casual. “Maybe. It’s probably better for my soul if I spend less time in gay bars. I’m not a twenty-two-year-old twink anymore.”

Rey pursed his lips, looking skeptical.

“Look, I know that what happened is for the best, but Aaron and I were together for more than a year, so I think I deserve a little bit of time to mourn. But you did not come here to pester me about Aaron. Stop stalling. What do you need advice about?”

Rey rolled his eyes. “I need a date for the show’s premiere.”

I put a hand on his chest and batted my eyelashes. “And you’re asking me? Honey, I’m flattered.”

“No, you idiot. A female date.”

“I think I could pull off looking like a woman. I have a very pretty face. The right wig, a stuffed bra. What do you think?”

Rey laughed. I preened.

“If you were a foot shorter, maybe,” he said. “I hate to do this to you, man, but I’m not bringing you to the premiere.”


“What do you think of me asking Allie?”

That was not something I liked one bit. “Aren’t there any aspiring starlets whose hearts you can break? The last time you went out with one of my friends, she stopped talking to me.”

“She moved to Virginia for a job.”

“Still. I like Allie. I want to keep her. She has a little bit of a crush on you as it is. You know I love you, but you, my friend, have a terrible track record with women. You going out with her… that can only end badly.”

“Fine. Maybe I’ll ask one of my costars.”


There was a pause. “How’d the interview with Jonathan go?”

“It went okay. I’m not allowed to print anything good, but it went okay.”

“What do you mean, you aren’t allowed to print anything good?”

I shifted on the couch. “I got him to tell me that he disagrees with his father on social issues, specifically on that whole banning-gays-from-the-country thing, but he told me he doesn’t want to get caught publicly disagreeing with the Senator. He just wanted me to know.”

“Right. Did you tell him you’re gay?”

“Not in so many words.”

Rey raised his eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

“I showed him one of my Forum columns, but I didn’t say anything else on the matter. Not that it’s a big secret, of course.”

He sighed. “Probably he put together that the Forum is lefty propaganda and didn’t want to piss you off. Or he read your column and figured you are not in favor of Uncle Richard’s stance on stripping you of more of your rights.”

“Or he wants something else.” I raised an eyebrow. I hadn’t let myself entertain the possibility that he could possibly want me, but there it was.

Rey understood. “Wishful thinking.”

“On whose part?”

He rolled his eyes. “I still think you’re wrong about Jonathan. He’s not gay. I’d know.”

“You didn’t know I’m gay until I told you. Actually, I don’t think you really knew until you walked in on me having sex with Jake Monaghan back when we roomed together.”

Rey winced. “We were young. I didn’t know anything back then.”

“Well, anyway, I’m writing a really tame article and Wade’s going to hate it. So I must somehow reconcile the fact that your cousin came off as nice and sweet but kind of boring with the fact that if I don’t turn in an interesting story, Wade will never hire me for a feature story again.”

“There isn’t always a story.”

I stood to motion Rey out of the apartment. “That’s not the problem here. The problem is that there is a story here, but Jonathan won’t let me tell it.”

Blind Items excerpt #1

July 28, 2011

THE second time in my life that I had the premonition that everything was about to change was the moment I first laid eyes on Jonathan Granger.

I was making dinner in Rey’s kitchen. Rey was hopeless when it came to cooking, but he had the sort of kitchen that I’d always dreamed of, which seemed unfair. In fact, he lived in the sort of house I had always wanted to own, a gorgeous Park Slope brownstone constructed circa 1890 that had been renovated and restored before he bought it, with five floors and four bedrooms and really much more space than one man needed, but such is the life of a famous actor, I suppose.

Rey leaned on the counter, nursing a beer and making small talk while I cooked. It was pleasant, just the two of us, hanging out like old times. Then the doorbell rang. When Rey went to answer it, all of my nervous nausea came back. I checked on every element of the dinner I was cooking while I waited.

Rey returned, followed by a guy that must have been Jonathan, and, again, I just knew. The hair rose on the back of my neck, and I thought, Oh, fuck. Rey, oblivious as always, smiled and introduced us.

In an effort not to think about how attractive Jonathan was, I concentrated on looking for family resemblances as we shook hands. They weren’t obvious at first. Rey’s father and Jonathan’s mother were siblings but had chosen very different spouses, so where Rey was all dark good looks inherited from his Dominican mother, Jonathan looked a little washed out: dirty blond hair, blue eyes, pale skin. And yet they had similar faces: the set of their eyes, the curves of their eyebrows, their long, thin noses. Except where Rey was somewhat broad and boorish at first glance, Jonathan was effete and elegant. He was neatly dressed, not a hair out of place. He had long fingers like a piano player. Where Rey looked strong, Jonathan looked delicate. In other words, Rey was classically movie-star hot. But Jonathan was beautiful.

Rey introduced me as “My old friend Drew.”

Jonathan shook my hand. His palm was warm and his handshake firm, which made him seem a little more like a living person and less like porcelain. He smiled warmly. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

“Drew is in charge of meal preparation,” Rey said. “I don’t cook.”

“That’s a shame,” said Jonathan, looking around. “This is a great kitchen.”

“My sentiments exactly.” I felt the need to talk, to get a word in, to make Jonathan notice me. Like an idiot, I added, “I hope you’re not vegetarian, Jonny. There’s steak on the menu tonight.”

Jonathan turned to me and looked surprised. For the briefest of moments, he looked afraid, but then his face settled into a smile.

“Nope,” he said. “Steak sounds great.”

Our eyes met briefly before his gaze shifted down. I watched his eyes; he looked at my chest for a while, then he abruptly looked up again. I thought maybe he was checking me out, but it was hard to tell if it was that or if he just wanted to know where I bought my shirt. Before I could figure it out, Rey interrupted and said, “Can I get you something to drink? Red wine? Beer?”

“I’d love a beer,” Jonathan said.

I faked like I was turning back to my cooking and caught Jonathan looking at me again. I didn’t know what to do with that. On the one hand, I was always happy for a man I found attractive to be checking me out. On the other, I really didn’t want to be right about my suspicion that he was gay. I’d been hoping that Jonathan would turn out to be the straightest of straight guys so that I could go back to Wade, tell him there was no story, and call it a day. Instinct told me this wasn’t meant to be.

Rey escorted him over to the table and told him to sit. They chatted for a moment. I grabbed a short stack of plates and carried them over to the table. “Make yourself useful,” I told Rey, handing him the plates. I lingered for a moment, determined now to figure out what was going on in Jonathan’s head. He didn’t give me any clues. I tried smiling at him, but he frowned and looked at the straw placemat on the table in front of him.

Blind Items: The Contest

July 28, 2011

Blind Items takes place in New York City and draws pretty heavily from the setting. (This photo is of the intersection in the Brooklyn neighborhood of Boerum Hill, where my character Jonathan lives.) In honor of the city that I also call home and a few other important moments in the novel, I’ve put together a little trivia contest.

Here’s how it works. I’ve got five questions that I’m presenting like blind gossip items. They’re all based on important moments in the novel. Give these questions a shot. (I won’t hold it against you if you have to Google, but see how many of these you know the answer to before you guess.) Leave your answers in the comments here. I’ll draw a winner randomly from the pool of people who answer all of the questions correctly. Winner gets a copy of Blind Items!

Here are the questions:

1. This American songwriter wrote hits such as “Too Darn Hot,” “I’ve Got My Eyes On You,” and “It’s De-Lovely.” In fact, a revival of one of his musicals just won Best Revival at this year’s Tonys.

2. This borough of New York City is the most populous.

3. This bridge, completed in 1883, is one of the oldest suspension bridges in the US. It crosses the East River.

4. This tabloid newspaper—with a gossip section known as “Page Six”—is New York City’s oldest newspaper still in print.

5. Although more energy-efficient cars are making up a larger percentage of NYC’s yellow cab fleet, 60% of the fleet is still made up of this make and model of car. (Hint: this model of car is often also used as police cruisers across the country. Production is scheduled to end next month.)

I’ll draw a winner at the end of the day. Good luck everyone!

Blind Items Book Party!

July 28, 2011

Hello and welcome to the book party for Blind Items. We’re doing this a day early because I’ll be traveling tomorrow. My younger brother is getting married this Saturday in Long Island, which is pretty exciting.

Speaking of weddings, the vote to legalize same-sex marriage in my home state of New York was the same weekend I was looking at final page proofs for Blind Items. The first same-sex weddings are taking place in the state this week, in fact, since the law took effect this past Sunday. I had to make a couple of last-minute changes to the novel to account for this, given that the book takes place in New York City. That wasn’t exactly a hardship, though.

So let’s talk about the novel a little. The title comes from those little gossip items that give you the scoop without naming names. There’s one little blind item in particular that gets our characters into a world of trouble:

Blind item: which über-conservative politician’s son was seen outside gay club Rooster’s last night, hand-in-hand with a cute taller man?

All three major players in the novel are dealing with fame of some sort. Our narrator Drew (featured on Reece Dante’s gorgeous cover!) is a writer, specifically a columnist for a gossipy alt-weekly, and he’s something of an activist, so he’s occasionally on TV as a liberal pundit. His best friend Rey is an actor whose star is rising; he’s a regular cast member on a popular nighttime soap and he’s just starting to get big movie roles. Rey’s cousin Jonathan is content to fly under the radar, but it’s hard to avoid attention when your father is running for president. The microscope under which all three of them find themselves is where all their trouble begins.

This book was a long time in the making. I started writing it almost four years ago, and it went through several drafts before I was happy with it. I think I’ve got it right now, and I hope you’ll agree. You can read the blurb here. Now that it’s finally here, let’s party!

I’ll have some excerpts up later in the day as well as a little trivia contest and I’ll be around all day to chat and answer questions in the comments. So yay! Party! And happy reading!

Equilibrium contest winner

June 25, 2011

Make that winner(s), since I’m feeling generous and have decided to give away two copies of the book. :) I put everyone’s names in a hat, shook them around and pulled two out, and they were:

Kathy B


Congratulations, both of you! I will contact you ASAP about your books. Thanks to you and everyone else who commented today, I really appreciate it, and I hope that I kept you at least a little entertained during my stint on the blog.


Email: meredith.shayne[at]