Also, Bubba and the Mysterious Murder Note is on track. The proofreading/editing Goddess of the Universe is working out all of my errors or at least 98% of them. Then when correcting my boo-boos I usually add in a booboo. (I hit the m key instead of the comma key, so that looks a little strange, and I do that a lot.)
Veiled Eyes has been updated, so if you want the new, improved copy wait until Thanksgiving and prompt B&N or Amazon or Smashwords into giving you the new version.
I have been buzay.
The first three Bubbas are available on Amazon in paperback. (I am not happy with the prices. Createspace does not make it easy to make it a reasonable price. I will apologize only once.) If you can't live without Bubba in large (6x9) paperback, go here for Bubba and the Dead Woman. Go here for Bubba and the 12 Deadly Days of Christmas. Go here for Bubba and the Missing Woman. What a great Christmas gift for a Bubba-deserving individual. A set of three. Look for Bubba and the Mysterious Murder Note in print soon after the ebook is released.
In other news, my back sucks. I need muscle relaxers and the doctor said to take ibuprofen, which normally I would say, "Great! Ibuprofen works wonders for that pesky time of the month, but wait, it's the pinched nerve in my back and not my period, dumbass." But what I said was, "Okay," because medical doctors intimidate me and he'll only say something about how skinny people never have back problems. Hahaha. Skinny people have back problems. Let me get off my high fat horse. (I'm suddenly inspired to do a drawing.)
Tree house II is taking its toll. It's got a roof with shingles. Now we're doing the walls. We cutting out the siding and painting it before it goes up. (I know. It sounds backasswards, but it's working for us.) In the meantime our only child is mentally designing her girl cave. (Her: "Mommy, it shall have a small round table. Four chairs. A hammock. A toy box. Posters on the wall." Me: "Cressy, it's only four feet by four feet." Her: "It will fit, Mommy. Trust me." Me: "Sure, baby.")
|Note the shingles on the roof.|
They were a shingley pain in the tuckus.
I now have compassion for roofers
|When the neighbors peer through the brush|
to see what we're doing, they won't be able
to miss it.