Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Fireworks Month in the Lair

    by Nancy

    July is a big month in the lair with lots of fabulous guests. We're excited to have so many authors visiting to liven up the summer doldrums. We're also celebrating the launch of RITA-nominated Christine Wells's third book.

    Tomorrow, July 2, the fabulous Stacey Kayne will be here to discuss her latest release, Mountain Wild, book 3 in her Wild series!

    On Friday, 3rd July, debut Berkley author Kandy Shepherd visits the lair as Anna Campbell's guest to talk about her hilarious and romantic contemporary romance LOVE IS A FOUR-LEGGED WORD. Isn't that the greatest title? You'll love meeting Kandy and joining in the conversation about romance books, dogs, her road to publication and chocolate brownies.

    On 6 July, DeAnna Cameron will swing by the lair to chat with Christine Wells about her debut novel from Berkley, THE BELLY DANCER.

    The next day, on 7 July, we celebrate the release of Christine Wells's WICKED LITTLE GAME.

    Christine Wells has joined with Jennifer Haymore, author of A Hint of Wicked, to offer a wicked prize pack to one lucky reader. See Christine's website http://www.christine-wells.com/contact-christine-wells.html for details.

    On July 8, Kirsten will have the fabulous New York Times Bestselling Author ALYSSA DAY in the Lair to discuss not one but two of her steamy Warriors of Poseidon books -- Atlantis Unleashed and Atlantis Unmasked.

    Kimberly Raye visits with Tawny on July 12 about sex scenes (like the wildest place you've ever done it).

    July 13 brings Love Inspired author Renee Ryan back to The Lair as Joan's guest to talk about twins and her new title “Hannah’s Beau.”

    We have a mid-month lull in visitors, with many of the banditas traveling to or from Washington, D.C., for RWA National. We will be blogging as usual, though, so do stop in and see what we’re up to! On July 19, I'm giving away a surprise package (to me, too, since I don't have them yet) of books from the RWA conference.

    Marie Force joins Aunty Cindy on July 27.

    On July 29, Jo will be hosting return guest and NY Times best-selling novelist Brenda Novak who will be talking about time management and giving away a copy of her latest book. THE PERFECT COUPLE, the fourth book in the Last Stand series. The Perfect Couple releases on July 28!

    Erotic romance writer Delilah Dawson will visit the Lair on July 30, as Jo's guest. Be sure to drop by the visit with this naughty writer, who'll be giving away one of her latest books to a lucky commenter.

    Source URL: http://yourrighthandthief.blogspot.com/2009/06/
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Landscape wallpaper

Ode to the Indie

A little love note.

    Yesterday was exactly two months until our wedding (August 29th). I can't believe that in eight short weeks, Alex will be my husband. When I got home from my week-long trip yesterday afternoon, Alex had left me a bunch of yellow flowers, along with cute notes on the bed, coffee table and hung from deer antlers. It made me swoon.

    Audrey Hepburn once said, "If I get married, I want to be very married."

    Alex, I can't wait to very-marry you.

    (Quote via.)Source URL: http://yourrighthandthief.blogspot.com/2009/06/
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Rihanna is All Legs and Heart


    After Chris Brown got a "screw-you-every-battered-girl" sentence for beating the hell out of Rihanna, we hadn't seen much of the female pop-star.


    I imagine she was hiding out, fearing if she left, every dude would run up and start whacking her while setting the American flag on fire - see Chris Brown, this is what you started. Luckily, she got over these fears to grace us with her legs. I didn't know a grey-hoodie was an outfit, but I didn't know lots of things that turned out to be true - like pop-rocks and soda won't make a hamster explode, but a microwave sure will. Man, this was an informative day.

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Birth announcement

Monday, June 29, 2009

Jackson's family moves quickly to take charge

    Yahoo! News: Michael Jackson's family moved quickly Monday to take control of his complicated personal and financial affairs, winning temporary custody of his three children and asking a judge to name the King of Pop's mother as administrator of his estate.
    The Rev. Al Sharpton and Joe Jackson, Michael Jackson's father, ...

    In documents filed in Superior Court, Jackson's parents said they believe their 50-year-old son died without a valid will.

    They also made it clear they believe they should take charge of both his debt-ridden but potentially lucrative financial empire and act as permanent caretakers of his three children.

    Judge Mitchell Beckloff granted 79-year-old Katherine Jackson temporary guardianship of the children, who range in age from 7 to 12. He did not immediately rule on her requests to take charge of the children's and Jackson's estates.

    Beckloff scheduled a hearing for July 6 and another for Aug. 3 to consider those issues and whether Katherine Jackson should be appointed the children's permanent guardian.

    The judge later on Monday also granted Katherine Jackson the right to take control of her son's personal property that is now in the hands of an unnamed third party. The ruling does not detail the nature of those items and does not provide control of any money in the estate.

    L. Londell McMillan, the family's attorney, said in a statement that the Jacksons are pleased with the results of their Monday filings.

    "Mrs. Jackson deserves custody, and the family should have the administration of the brilliance of Mr. Michael Jackson. Mrs. Jackson is a wonderful, loving and strong woman with a special family many of us have admired for years. The personal and legal priorities are focused on first protecting the best interests of Mr. Michael Jackson's children, his family, his memorial services and then preserving his creative and business legacy with the dignity and honor it deserves."

    When Jackson died Thursday, he left behind a 12-year-old son and 11-year-old daughter by his ex-wife Deborah Rowe, as well as a 7-year-old son born to a surrogate mother.

    The Jackson family said the children — Michael Joseph Jackson Jr. (known as Prince Michael), Paris Michael Katherine Jackson and Prince Michael II — are living at the Jackson family compound in Los Angeles' San Fernando Valley.

    "They have a long established relationship with paternal grandmother and are comfortable in her care," the family said in court documents.

    Family patriarch Joe Jackson, 79, said at a news conference that the children were enjoying playing with other kids — something they do not normally do.

    The documents state that although Rowe is the mother of the two older children, her whereabouts are unknown. The document simply listed "none" for the mother of the youngest child, Prince Michael II.

    Supporting Katherine Jackson in her petition bid to administer the estate was Jackson's father, Joe Jackson.

    The Jacksons say they have not heard from Rowe since their son's death. Rowe's attorney, Marta Almli, did not respond to an e-mail message seeking comment Monday. She previously said, "Ms. Rowe's only thoughts at this time have been regarding the devastating loss Michael's family has suffered."

    Mark Lester, a former British child star who is godfather to Jackson's children, told The Associated Press he believes they belong with Jackson's mother.

    "She is a very loving, kind and gracious woman, and she had a very close relationship with Michael and a very good rapport with her grandchildren," Lester said. "I know the kids are fine. They are deeply saddened by what's happened, but they're coping."

    Meanwhile, authorities continued to investigate Jackson's death. Officials with the Los Angeles County coroner's office returned to the mansion he was renting at the time of his death and left with two large plastic bags of evidence.

    Assistant Chief Coroner Ed Winter said the bags contained medication. He declined to elaborate.

    Lawyers for Jackson's cardiologist Dr. Conrad Murray said the physician never prescribed the powerful drugs Demerol or Oxycontin for Jackson and did all he could to revive him when he found the entertainer near death.

    Attorney Matt Alford told the AP it took as long as 30 minutes for paramedics to be called after Murray found Jackson with a faint pulse and performed CPR.

    The delay was partly because Jackson's room in the rented mansion didn't have a telephone and Murray didn't know Jackson's street address to give to emergency crews, Alford said.

    Eventually, Murray found a chef in the house and had him summon a security guard, who called for help while the doctor continued to perform CPR.

    Jackson's father told reporters at the family compound that his son's funeral was still in the planning stages.

    "It will be some private, but not closed all the way down to the public," he said without elaborating.

    He added that his son would not be buried at Neverland Ranch, the sprawling playground he built in the rolling hills of Santa Barbara County then abandoned after going into seclusion following his acquittal on child molestation charges in 2005.

    Jackson's father also used the news conference to plug a record company he said he's founding with a business partner.

    "We have a lot of good artists pitching to come out," he said.

    His son, who had not released a new recording or performed publicly in years, was believed to be hundreds of millions of dollars in debt at the time of his death. However, his finances are complicated and could take years to unravel.

    Clearly one of his most valuable assets is his recording catalog, which his father could potentially rerelease through his new record company if the family gains control of his assets. There could also be recordings in Jackson's estate that he had never released.

    The AP learned that Jackson had finished an elaborate video production project just two weeks before he died. The five-week project dubbed "Dome Project" could be the final finished video piece overseen by the star.

    There's also a financial bonanza to be had in the Sony/ATV Music Publishing catalog of which Jackson owned 50 percent. The 750,000-song catalog includes music by the Beatles, Bob Dylan, Neil Diamond, Lady Gaga and the Jonas Brothers, and is estimated to be worth as much as $2 billion.

    "Quite frankly, he may be worth more dead than alive," Jerry Reisman, general counsel for the Hit Factory, a recording studio where Jackson produced his best-selling album "Thriller," said recently.

    Jackson nearly lost his beloved Neverland, which was once filled with amusement park rides and wild animals, to foreclosure in March. Billionaire real estate investor Thomas Barrack bailed him out at the 11th hour, setting up a joint venture with Jackson that took ownership of the 2,500-acre property.

    The ranch's future is uncertain, but three of Jackson's brothers visited the estate with Barrack over the weekend. A spokesman for the holding company that now operates it said it was premature to talk about the ranch's future.

    Source URL: http://yourrighthandthief.blogspot.com/2009/06/
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    KODAK'S attempt to arrange a meeting between Megan Fox and an 11-year-old admirer came out blank. In a p.r. stunt, the company offered $5,000 to anyone who could identify the youngster, who'd been photographed trying to give the "Transformers 2" siren a yellow rose at the London premiere. After Gawker identified the child as Harvey Kindlon, Kodak flew him to New York, hoping to get him an audience with Fox on the "Today" show, which had booked her for a segment yesterday.


    But Fox was bumped after Michael Jackson's death, and she's since returned to LA. A source tells Page Six, "Kodak basically put this kid on a plane on the off-chance that he'd get to meet her. They never even confirmed with 'Today.' Now they're offering him around for interviews. It's exploitative and creepy." A rep for "Today" says, "Harvey was never scheduled to appear and we don't plan to have him on." Kodak didn't get back to us.

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The Golden Rooster Family Reunion

    Ah! What’s this? A postmark from St. Poulet? A missive from my sainted maman, no doubt. The poor chicken. She worries so. I am the only of her chicks to pursue life on such a—how shall we say?—grand scale. Dancing along the knife edge of danger is not for everyone, oui? But it must come as a particular shock when held against the lives chosen by that clutch of spectacular dullards with whom I was hatched. So, alors, I shall read her little letter then compose a reply which shall put her pretty head at ease.

    My dearest son,

    Ah, you see? Dearest? I am her favorite still!

    I hope this note finds you well.

    If you consider lying in wait on the decks of a private yacht anchored near St. Tropez well, then yes, I am. Indeed.

    I know that you are very busy in your international business.

    Business which I shall endeavor to wrap up as soon as a certain wily adversary shows himself above deck. Any minute, I expect. Any minute….

    Oh yes, yes. I know there are many roads to cross to be as successful as you are but it is a mother’s hope that you will spare some time for your maman and…many of your other relatives.

    Ah, my quarry appears! I crouch and….I spring! And karate CHOP and jujitsu KICK and a slash-slash-slash of the…

    Un moment. Relatives?

    Yes my boy, it is that time once more. Time for our family reunion.

    Sacred bleu!

    Cousin Delta is hosting it at the old family homestead in St. Poulet, LA. Ah my, the flock has spread far from the coop but all are making an extraordinary effort to attend.

    But of course. My ne’er-do-well relations would sooner surrender to the Colonel himself than forsake the chance to importune me for favors, money, liquor and women.

    I know you will not disappoint, ma petite.

    I shall not, maman! Though it shall try my patience exceedingly to rub feathers with my déclassé brood-mates for even that short time.

    It will be June 30th well before the celebration of Independence when all poultry of worth seclude themselves away from the dangers of deep fryers.

    You will attend and make this mother proud.

    With all my love, my little hatchling,


    And so I begin the long journey back to the broken shell of my youth. To St. Poulet.

    Two weeks later…..

    A lone vehicle maneuvers its way down SunnySide Up lane, past rows of rice fields to a dilapidated brick mansion.
    Bypassing the house, the driver steers down a dirt road to the rear of the property.

    Oh, these cursed country two-tracks with their paint-eating gravel! What it is doing to my new coupe!

    Aghast, I look at the rusted wire fence beneath spreading oak trees. The din is already more than my nerves can stand.
    “Yoohoo! Cousin!”

    The squawk makes me cringe. With the fortitude for which I am renowned I step out of the vehicle and (dear Lord) am enveloped in the wings of Cousin Delta.

    Normally I have not the slightest objection to being seized to a woman’s breast but merde, ma cousine, a little air? A minor application of pressure at the wing-joint and, ah, sweet oxygen!

    “Bonjour, Delta. You have not changed a bit, my dear.” A most unfortunate circumstance, that.

    Why mess with perfection?” she laughs, with a saucy twitch of her considerable tail feathers.

    “Why, indeed?”

    “You ain’t changed much, either, cuz.” She jabs a wing tip into my chest. “No more meat on your breastbone than when you left.”

    “Yes, well, an excellent diet and a dedication to the martial arts—“

    “And your coxcomb still does that weird thing. Har! Har!”

    My wings fly up to my head and….sacred bleu! Ah, this accursed humidity! I have not suffered this particular indignity since my late and unlamented youth here on the family compound. I have done well to shake the dust of this place from my feed scratchers years ago. Perhaps my impressive physique and accomplishments will distract the flock from this most unfortunate nod to history? A rooster can hope, can he not?

    But duty first. “Delta, my beauty. Where is Maman?”

    “Oh! Your sister’s here. Yoohoo! Junebug! Over here!”

    Ahhh, my sister. Elder by two eggs. The pecking order always took on a new meaning when she was around. “Bonjour, Junebug.”

    "Oh, sweetie, I'm so glad you came! When Mama said you might, I almost busted a gut, I was so excited. I can't wait for you to tell me about your world travels.”

    “Vraiment? Shall I begin with Paris or Prague?”

    “I always dreamed of getting out of this stuffy old coop.”

    “Budapest is lovely this time of year.”

    But...well.. .you know, along came Spur.”

    Spur? That bow-legged, self-styled, one-rooster Elvis tribute? She married him?

    “Now I have Cogburn and Auspice and Augustus (you remember, the twins?) and Octavia, Sebastian and Putt Putt to chase around."

    Good heavens.

    *sigh* "I don't suppose I'll ever get off the farm now..." *sniff*

    Zut alors! Not to be uncharitable but have you considered keeping your drumsticks together once in a while? I pat her wing sympathetically and scan the yard for the nearest exit. Or at least something shiny. Junebug’s attention span is not her most formidable trait.

    Suddenly a long silver limo pulls up outside the hen house. The driver, complete in uniform hurries around to open the door, and who should step out, but cousin Delilah, the madame of the best little henhouse in Texas, dressed in her Coco Channel suit, dark glasses and big hat, she kisses her driver and joins us.

    "Hey, y'all, it's been ages since I've been back to see y'all! Hey Junebug, how're all those little chicks? And Delta, lovely as evah!"

    Delilah lifts one brow, shakes her tail feathers and saunters toward me...

    "Well, well, well, I do declare, if it isn't the Golden One himself.”

    I incline my coxcomb graciously. I have a small fondness for Delilah as her hen house is the site of some of the—how to put it delicately—more memorable incidents in an otherwise unremarkable youth. “In the flesh, madame.”

    “So, what have you been up to these days, ya old fake frenchie you!"

    Fake frenchie, indeed! It seems my original plan—doing my familial duty with as much haste as decent manners allow—is a sound one. But as the finest tail feathers in the entire parish fall under Delilah’s purview, I muster the strength to do the pretty. “Nothing of note,” I say. “But I feel certain you’ve been leading life a merry chase.” She brays out that rough, two-packs-a-day laugh of hers.

    “Ain’t I just! I got this new girl—prime bit of thigh-meat, see? Lord, she’s a pistol…”

    I lean in, intrigued for the first time all day, but then a dilapidated yellow bus rolls into the yard. It sputters to a stop, belching exhaust fumes from its rear. The antiquated bus driver down the steps and holds out a hand to an elderly hen.

    "Git yer cotton-pickin' paw offen me, you smarmy fella," she snarls, leaping to the ground with surprising grace for one so ancient.

    I freeze. I am terrified of Great Granny Henster, and rooster enough to admit it. GG is tiny, fierce and extraordinarily rude. She has been, in the lamentable past, particularly cruel about my coxcomb situation. I remain still and pray her eyesight has faded with time.

    Immediately GG whirls around and opens the luggage facility beneath the bus.

    "Where's my stuff," she demands. "I need my Depends, dammit! I need 'em right now!"

    Oh. Mon Dieu.

    A sporty Italian roadster roars up the drive to the lair, pulling in behind the school bus. A svelte hen steps out, unwrapping the Hermes scarf and tips down her elegant designer sunglasses.

    "Where is that reprobate brother of mine?" Dominique D'Or drawls. "I've flown in from Paris for this, he better have done what he SAID he was going to do."

    Pardone? I implied I would perform some…service? For my poseur of a soeur? Ridicule!

    She scans the various family members scattered about.

    "Interesting digs big brother's found, and such an interesting group of people to attach himself too. Oh, Lord, he invited GG. How does she get around in that bus?"

    Dominique thinks I called this meeting? Heavens. She’s delusional. Either that or she’s been drinking breakfast again.

    One of the hired cockerels hurries over and asks after her luggage.

    "Well, aren't you johnny on the spot," she says, with a throaty laugh. "Of course you can carry my bags. You can polish my eggs too, rrrrrrrrowwww!"

    Rrrrrrowwww? Perhaps lunch was of the liquid variety as well.
    Leaving the roosterling staring after her, she struts up to the front of the coop and calls, "GOLDIE! Come say hello!"

    Seeing no better choice, I trudge after her. S’il vous plait, I pray to whatever diety will have me. Please let it be brief. And if it cannot be brief, at least let it be amusing. I march forward to meet my fate, whatever—or whomever—it may entail….Source URL: http://yourrighthandthief.blogspot.com/2009/06/
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