A seance with cocktail weenies? Why not?

My new short story, Dance With the Devil, has been unleashed in the Haunted Mansion Project: Year Two anthology! The ebook is available now for $6.95, and print copies will be ready soon. Take a peek, won'tcha?
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Excerpt:

“Get the lights, Betsy.” Marge needed her ambiance, she also needed a vodka martini but the chance of getting that with these gals dwindled with each serious look and dewy bosom attributed to the excitement of raising the dead. Marge suspected it was due more to the heat and lack of oxygen in the room than nervousness since Bernice hadn’t stopped smoking her Lucky Strikes after seeing that ad with Sophia Loren. Now the woman tramped around the room in low-cut gowns pretending to have an Italian accent. 

“I weeell do eet.” Bernice purred. A long, tobacco-stained fingernail twirled the knob and the room faded into darkness as Betsy’s new dimmer switch activated. Feeling her way back to the Formica-topped kitchen table, she pretended to ignore the sounds of Betsy’s husband in the rumpus room listening to the game. “I am ready to meet the spirits of our dead ones.”

“Fabulous. Pass me a weenie before she gets wound up.” Eleanor had been to these séances before; she knew that when the medium got started, the hostess always forgot to pay attention to details – like grumbling stomachs. She’d better load up on the cream cheese-pimento dip while she was at it. Returning to the table with a plate loaded with snacks, she smoothed her orange and blue caftan over the metal arms of the chair. Averting her eyes from the dried apricot puree from the youngest boy’s supper on Betsy’s pink sweater set, she settled down to watch Marge go through the ritual of preparing the small kitchen for visitors from the netherworld. 
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You didn't think I'd play it straight horror, did you? ;)

image: mycomicshop.com

The Girls' Ghost Hunting Guide Summer Spooktacular book giveaway

Shew. You try writing that title over and over again, I'm ready to call it GGHGSS and be done with it.

Summer is an excellent time to try your (and your kids') hand at a little investigative handiwork and fire up the deductive reasoning skills over lemonade. To spur on the sleepovers, I'm giving away one signed copy of The Girls' Ghost Hunting Guide! To enter, please visit its webpage and let's get crackin' on what's raiding the fridge at night. The deadline is June 5th so shake what your mama gave you and enter!

It's getting all renegade-y up in here.

Dear "Sculpt Sexy Arms" article that half-promised me Michelle Obama arms by July: I'll have you know

that the "Renegade Row" push-up/arm torture has left me with a sore core, aching wrists, and frightened 7-year-old when she saw how renegade-y I was by the end of the reps. I think the swearing may have something to do with it. My dogs, however, would like to thank you for the chance to nip at my posterior while in the aforementioned "Renegade" position. They're lucky I was too busy trying to ignore the hand cramps as I clutched the dumbbells and tried to remain in the push-up position and not collapse on the floor. What sweet hell have you wrought, Women's Health?

Nailed it. (Oktoberfest '12)

For the rest of the day, the most this arm will be doing will be lifting an Oktoberfest-sized beer. I bet I get more reps that way than the "Standing V-Raise" you put me through earlier.

Soul-eating clown for one, please.

My buddy LaMishia and I braved the elements and a really bad hair day to head out to the Lucketts Spring Market over the weekend. Nearly 200 vendors rolled out various interpretations of "antiques" and we picked through aluminum-siding die-cut letters that cost $60 apiece and avoided the horribly painted items such as the bright purple armoires that looked like they had been dragged behind a wagon train in an effort to prim them for buyers. But among the small amount of rubble were some real finds and lovely people. 

As we headed for the exit, with only one antique tole-painted doll cradle for my girls to show for market booty, I stumbled upon this little number. 

Baby souls are delicious!

A cast iron bank with original paint and a face that hints at future soul-eating shenanigans. If you stare at it for awhile, its eyes move on their own. Try it. Trrrrrrryyyy iiiiit.

Aside from the market, I updated my website as a way to procrastinate instead of editing. I have no shame.

What did you do over the weekend?

Giving Up the Ghost has gotten up and went

I just sent the manuscript for Giving Up the Ghost: Spooky Tales of Haunted Objects to my editor at Llewellyn. It's been a crazy long six months writing and researching the book and I now have a twitch to match the other twitch. People can't tell if I'm winking at them or overly enthusiastically blinking. 

While I wait for notes from Amy, I've already started some new ideas for the next project (or two). I really enjoyed writing the Girls' Ghost Hunting Guide and thought I'd get back to kidlit -- but knowing me, it'll have some weird bent to it and kids will have to bribe their parents into buying it. Meh. It's character-building. What are you working on now?