The Gremlins are not Winning

Hey! I'm back! It's echoing in here.
I lost my computer and have been subsisting on the crumbs of my fairly new Kindle Fire or I'd have been hair-tearing insane by now. Especially since it's Poetry month and I couldn't post them on my blog with pictures like I like to do. Hopefully I'll figure out this new scribe of mine and we'll be in the clover.
The bad news is that my desktop computer is still Sleeping Beautying. We had to go get the Great Muckin' Giant Mother of a thumb drive (Big Bertha) to get all my stuff off my other computer. So it's off except for the 6K emails it ate about a week before it took the Big Plunge. Those are lost in the Forbidden Forest somewhere on my computer. The thing is, I want them. There are' things'.

So then, when we've pulled off every single thing we can, it's time for the napalm. And then the resurrection. And hopefully there will be sentient life in there again.

The whole problem happened because when I got my computer, it wasn't new like I'd been told. Only new to me. There was some kind of licensing snafu, or some other reason my computer refused to do anything. (Lazy wench!)

So it necessitated turning it on, then waiting a while, doing taxes, cleaning out the car, cutting the dog's toenails, and maybe doing dishes. Then I could turn on the screen. Then I had to turn the computer off (a BIG no-no, but that's what it took, I swear) and wait until the screen lit, and back on again. If I hadn't waited long enough, the gobbledy-gook of pre-opening didn't happen and the whole thing began over again. This time you'd have to go change the oil in the car, write letters to grandmothers, re-do your kitchen spice cupboard, and maybe plant the garden.

THEN it would think about going on.

And I told The Man this several times, while still trying not to complain about everything (which annoys him). So I did. Several times. Apparently all that was in vane, because when this whole shebang went down, he looked at me blankly, and said in his horrified voice, "Why would you ever do such a thing? I never told you to do that!"

Sometimes I would like to be visible and audible.

Anywho, DON'T DO WHAT I DID. If it's your Sweatheart (I know. It's on purpose), take his head in yours, drill him in the eyes with yours, and say, "Honey (only we don't use pet names 'cause I don't know why) there is something wrong with my computer. And if you don't fix it instantly, there will be a freaking boatload of trouble down the line for you. (And I know where you sleep. And I make your food.)
That might work for you. And again, if your Sweatheart is anything like mine, he'll just shoot you The Look of Ice Raying and go back to his online game. And your 'Baby' will sit there on its nicely cleaned up desk (because you've had nothing to do but clean for well over a month) and grow dust for possibly another century.

I just went ahead and used my birthday money from my mom and got a used laptop from a wonderful new friend (on which I'm writing this tome). Which means the pressure is off for figuring out the other one...possibly a horrible move on my part. You see, I miss my Baby. We were comfortable in our sloth. Sort of.

This has been one huge complaint. It shouldn't have been. My sweet husband has worked like a dog to try and figure out what's wrong with the thing. He took me down and got me that Mother of all Thumb drives (Okay there are some bigger) so we could save stuff for the newly refurbished computer. (He also got himself a lovely new monitor which now resides on my kitchen table instead of the desk in his den and a battery pack for The Son's computer. And a movie.) He transferred everything he could find to Mother. And he's really busy. I greatly appreciate that he spends time trying to help me. I'm happy that it makes him so happy to have two screens to play his games on.

And Kathryn, my new wonderful friend, gave this one to me out of the goodness of her heart, for a steal of a price (I'm writing the check after I get done with this and several hundred other chores. Really! It's almost in the mail as we speak. I might, in fact, get up and go write the check in a minute.)

Now I'll have to find something to call my computers. The Son names his computers Russian girl names. That's not for me. Maybe I should name mine after famous scribes.

At any rate, I'm back. Now I'll go load on April poetry.

Ps, I'm waiting to send in YEAR OF THE HONEY BADGERS, which won't be its title. I already know they're going to make me rename it. They'll probably go with African Tango. Which is sad because it says nothing about honey badgers. They've already asked to have it sometime this week. Hurray!!!!! Now I have to go get my email going on here...sigh.

Random Busy-ness and A Dangerous Affection Review

Wow! Been pretty dang busy. Recent and to come soon busy-nesses=

*Christmas with the minions
*A new baby in TX plus anniversary trip
*Getting ready to go on a pioneer Trek as Ma Murphy
*A wedding in the family in a month
*Writing on three books at once (FUZZY TUESDAYS TASTE SKY BLUE, NO JOY  FOR THE DEATHLESS, and some EVERLOST)
*Doing debut stuff for LOVE UNDEFINED, an anthology I'm in
*Figuring out how to hike on a lame knee and dr visits for such
*Planning various things for the BSA
*Running self sufficiency meetings
*Cubmaster-ing
*Running this loony bin

I'm certain I've forgotten a ton of extremely important things I'm still supposed to do. Like I should be right this very minute going to the doctor to get him to flesh out my physical form that I didn't take the first time...sigh.

But one thing I'm doing is spreading the word about a book I just finished. It just so happens that Wanda Luce's book cover and mine share a model. We're cover sisters.

I took this book on my trip to Texas and it helped greatly to make the miles and miles of nothingness of West TX more bearable. (East Texas I would gladly move to.) In fact, it was difficult putting it down for bouts of baby kissing and playing with the elder henchmen (and women).

So this is the deal:

Wanda Luce has written a book called A DANGEROUS AFFECTION. At first I thought it was going to be one of those fru-fru bodice-rippers with bare bits on the cover. Boy was I wrong! And happily so. Much more meaty and less cotton candy flossy.

Anne Fitzroy is the daughter of a British Earl and the ambassador to the Austrian court. Nefarious men work a plot in which the ambassador is framed with a spurious grant of bribe money, supposedly to betray the Austrian troops and British spies to the French. When the ambassador discovers the plot, he is assassinated and his daughter, Anne is implicated in the plot as the person most likely to have hidden the plot to save her father. Unless she uncovers the secret plans and casts light on her father's detractors, she could hang or be transported to Australia, or killed by those who wish to save their traitorous hides.

Anne and her sister become the targets of some vicious gossip with the threat of more stringent measures. Anne fears she will face, at the very least, the unkind gossip of the English Ton. She has given up on ever finding a husband, not only because of the blot on her character, but because she's considered a bluestocking and perhaps somewhat of a hoyden. I kind of like how she has the guts to work on her own mystery and brave the odds to discover the truth. She doesn't simply sit around letting men do all the work.

One of her greatest detractors, the Earl of de Rothesay (Nic) has already painted Anne with the name of traitor before they even met. He is convinced she covered for her father's treachery, which resulted in his brother's possible beheading at the hands of the French.

He comes to believe that Anne, at least, has been framed and is being stalked by a murderer who wishes to silence her forever to keep her from exposing the plot to betray Austria to the French. Can Anne enlist this handsome man instead, to clear her father's name?

This book, while it had a few little grains of sand, really intrigued me. For one thing, it was well written. Ms. Luce knows her stuff in relation to the speech, dress, habits, problems of the day, and happenings of the Regency era, enough so as to put the reader directly into Anne's shoes without bogging us down with verbosity.

There are a couple of times where I would have had the characters discuss something earlier, or show more difficulty coming up with the answer to the riddle. It would have been good to flesh out the Villains a bit better, but I felt these things didn't detract from the story. I was so pleasantly pleased that Ms. Luce set some of the action in Austria because so often Regency books never leave the ballrooms and sitting rooms of England. I enjoy a different venue. I like my heroines to actually do something and be loved for something other than their great beauty or flirting prowess. Go Brains!

In this suspenseful tale full of intrigue and romance, Anne has the guts to go out and do her own sleuthing, regardless of the considerable danger to her and her sister. In spite of the abuse she endures at the hands of those who want her family's money and to ruin her father, she pushes on to clear the family name. She convinces one of her greatest detractors that not only is she being truthful, but her father is as well.

I give this book two thumbs and an elbow up

You can buy this book here or here.

And now to get over to the dang Dr before he leaves for the day...sigh. And buy some leather strings among other things. But first...get dressed and eat something.

Rupert and Egglantina's Ball

Rupert and Egglantina wish to invite you to their dance to be held in the concert hall at Julliard after Egglantina's latest symphony concert.

Egglantina stands in the wings, her bow rosined, her violin tuned. On cue, she strides on stage, bows to her audience, and turns to tune the orchestra. Then she takes her seat in the first chair position in the symphony.

After a couple of wonderful renditions, she comes to stand at the mic and plays a lovely sonata solo. The notes entice your ears and fill you with an unnamed longing. You remember long lazy summer days when you were young and unfettered, kicking back in the tall grass as clouds waft past against a cerulean sky. Your cares and troubles rise up to blow away with the clouds.

At the end of the piece, you come to yourself and realize she has single-handedly brought happiness back to your heart for at least a little while.

After the symphony has performed its last rendition, the stage hands clear away chairs, piano, and music stands and a forest of lit trees springs up around the edges of the stage.

Rupert joins Egglantina on stage, as do many other couples. He whispers, "You were magnificent tonight. I can't ever get enough of hearing you play, Sweetheart."

Egglantina's heart dances with happiness. "I hope you'll still feel that when we're old and crotchety and I can hardly lift the bow."

"Always. And when you're old, I'll be older and much more in love with you than ever."

Egglantina wonders how she managed to find and land the best man in the wide world. She glances first at her so-handsome fiancé, and then at the beautiful trappings of the old concert hall and shivers with extreme happiness.

If you'd like to read the story of Egglantina and Rupert, it can be found here and here (and also in Kindle Unlimited for $0.00) in the LOVE UNDEFINED Anthology under the name MUSIC IN MY HEART by H. Linn Murphy

The Witherwood Ball

The December ball season is getting off to a late start due to a late wedding engagement. I offer you an invitation to the Witherwood Ball:
         

Mr. Andrew Witherwood is pleased 

to invite you to a ball in honor of his 

newly affianced, 

Miss Sarah Marchmont 

on this Evening of the seventh day 

of December at the

Fezziwig Emporium in 

Hanover Street.

Sarah, or Molly as she was once known, dresses with care in a serviceable gown of blue serge, borrowed for the occasion from her sister-to-be. Almost she regrets her actions with the ruby. Almost, but not quite. For it would have been a very good thing to have at least one new dress in which to celebrate their upcoming nuptials. She gazes into the spotty glass, remembering the balls of yesteryear.

She remembers sitting on the steps to watch the guests arrive in their furs and jewels, to be met by Papa and Mama in a formal receiving line. Sarah closed her eyes, putting herself into the waking dream. The butler would have taken their wraps and she and Andrew would have proceeded down the line. When she came to Papa, she would have curtsied and Papa would have pulled her into a quick hug, while perusing Andrew over her head. 

She knew he would have looked askance at her beau, mainly because no man was good enough for his little girl. And Mama would have drawn her away in horror at the state of her shabby dress. They would have ascended to her rooms to don a more respectable gown and Amalie would have murmured over her hair. At the end of it, they would have descended, sparkling and resplendent.

Sarah stares at the shabby cuffs and hem. What she wouldn't give to be back in Mama's arms.

But then she wouldn't be engaged to Andrew, for he would scarcely have done for a Marchmont beau. She takes up her fan and reticule and proceeds downstairs to Andrew's arm. He turns her about and gives her the warmest of smiles.

"Never have I seen such a beautiful lady," he says, bowing over her hand. He draws it to his lips and she is lost again in the warmth of his kindness. Perhaps it is not only kindness which fills her with happiness this night?

The two proceed to Fezziwig's Emporium, laughing and conversing as they walk. They see the windows lit with cheerful candle light and Fezziwig himself holding forth in preparation for the dancing.

"Ah! The guests of honor!" he exclaims as Andrew and Sarah enter to the music of the ringing bell. "Everyone to their places. Let me take your wraps, Witherwood." Fezziwig bows and they all proceed into the room to be greeted by the guests. 

You too are invited. Enter and dance. And as you do, note that Andrew is much more handsome than his picture.

If you would like to read more about Sarah and Andrew, please go here or here and purchase the book, THE HEART OF FIRE by H. Linn Murphy

New Entry for Encyclopedia Murphanica

Every year on about November 11 the species Homo Sapiens Arizonus emerges from hibernation. Despite its baking habitat of sun, sand, and spikes, the species makes its way from dark, air-cooled holes and controlled habitats sporting a hide varying from blue-ish white to pale pink.

Upon entering the sun, said species applies a series of small swathes of material to its hide, and appliances called flip-flops to its feet, most likely to keep from getting third degree burns on the bottoms of its appendages, even as late as November. These bits of material and rubber are worn throughout the waking months. Also applied is a strange unguent which is said to keep the species from frying to a crisp in the strident rays of the sun.

Studies show that during hibernation the Homo Sapiens Arizonus gains several pounds per month, sometimes packing on one or two hundred pounds of blubberous fat in one hibernation. The female of the species then spends every waking moment bemoaning the fact of its gain.

Eyesight for this animal is rather weak after staring at screens of varying types for the entire hibernation. Upon emerging into bright sunlight, they apply dark lenses in order to keep from constant squinting.

Very few specimens emerge prematurely. Of those, the predominant action is to migrate north. Should you spot one of these elusive specimens, count yourself lucky.

The Kavenagh House Review

Now and then you read a book that is such a distillation of the genre, such a perfect jewel of fiction, such a gem, that you can't lay it aside. For me, today, that was THE KAVENAGH HOUSE by Susan Dayley.

Parker has a problem. Her parents have moved into a completely mental house and now she has to leave her grandparents' place and go live with them. It's not just that she'll have to leave the kindness of her grands for the cold distance of her very busy parents.

It's also that the house was designed by a genius mastermind who built amazing scenes and traps and hazards and puzzle locks and hidden rooms and retractable stairs into the house. No one--not even the original owners--have found all the dangers. The delicious spookiness just keeps coming at you.

And it's that Parker can feel dead people. And her strange new house is lousy with them. At least one of those wraiths does not want Parker there and will defend its turf to the death. Her family members don't believe her, and since they can't perceive the ghosts, seem to be safe...until things start changing.

It's a race between a freaked-out Parker with her high school friend, Mason (who can see ghosts), a hundred-year-old victim(?), and Vincent, the crazy brain trust who built and enhanced the house. Vincent, who is so much more than a hundred-year-old ghost with an amazing amount of power and deviousness for a dead person.

 You should know that the book ends on a cliff. Fly to the bookstore and buy the next one as soon as Dayley writes it. I dare you.

This book was extremely well-written. The characters were richly drawn and fresh. I absolutely LOVED loved loved the house with its locks and traps and gadgets and carefully crafted magic. It was steampunk HEAVEN! Like Parker, I take a jaundiced view of people just tossing on a gear or two and a pair of goggles and calling it steampunk. To me the gadgets have to work and be logical and have a certain finesse to them. This house ROCKED MY SOCKS! I'm totally trying not to covet this fictitious house. The effort's not going well.

This was such a carefully crafted ghost story. Vincent totally creeped me out, such that I got just a bit shivery when I read by myself in my darkened house. I think Vincent embodies the name TOOL. He's so masterful and devious and such an evil genius, but you can't help being amazed by his brilliant attention to detail and extreme mastery of his art/science.

I love that this story seems to be set in an alternate America. That added so much scope for more mayhem. Dayley's world-building is excellent.

Dayley crafts this amazing collection of mechanical masterpieces without the need for bad language, gore, sex, or other unnecessary distractions. She still manages to creep the heck out of someone who usually spends her time picking things like that apart.

@Umpteen extremely cool and complicated locks
@Several hidden rooms
@An amazing steam generated sound system
@A spoonful of dry bones
@A sprinkling of wafting spirits
@And pluses I shouldn't even mention--but want to.

You can get this book here: You'll only need half your seat--the front half--and only long enough for one massive single-sitting read. Buckle into your leather jacket, strap on your goggles, slip into your heavy gloves, and get ready for a bumpy ride! I give this one five out of five shivers.

For Summer's Sake

This sweet little cutie pie is author Amelia Adams' (also known as Tristi Pinkston) great-niece, Summer. Summer's parents were killed two years ago in a horrible car accident when Summer was just one. She was in the car, but was miraculously saved, and she's now being raised by her grandparents, Amelia's sister and brother-in-law. She's the light of their lives.
Now it's time to finalize her adoption. Amelia is releasing her fourteenth Kansas Crossroads novella, A Joyful Noise. Pre-order now, and all the proceeds from the pre-order will be donated to help with the court costs. Any additional funds will go toward Summer's general needs, and the book will be delivered to your Kindle on October 3rd.

Will you help spread the word and send people to this page? Let's help Summer get her forever family!
(Note: No money will be exchanged through Facebook or this blog. Those who want to help will purchase the book through Amazon, and the author royalties will then be passed on to the family.)
Pre-order by clicking here!

A Joyful Noise (Kansas Crossroads Book 14)

Georgia Baker has worked at the Brody Hotel for several months now with only her employers knowing her secret - she's almost completely deaf. It doesn't stop her from doing her job, though, as she has learned how to read lips,…

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