Want to pre-order a signed copy of JULIET IMMORTAL?

Want to support a GREAT indie bookstore in the process?

Well then! Send an email to healdsburg@copperfields.net with the subject line: Order signed copies of JULIET IMMORTAL. The wonderful Katie--bookseller extraordinaire--will get back to you and make sure your copy is set aside for me to sign on the August 9th release date (and will ship it to you soon thereafter for a small additional fee).

Now, I'm not so vain as to think tons of people want a signed copy of my book, believe me. But I've had three or four emails wondering how one might go about procuring a signed copy and so I've decided to set something up for those interested parties. If you do decide to pre-order, just know that I will be eternally, mind-blowingly grateful. And!

-I will use my prettiest handwriting (which isn't that pretty, but I type all the time so I can't help it that my penmanship is crap, but I will try really, really hard to make my signature worthy).

-I will include a special something tucked into the front cover. (No telling what the special something is. But I think it will be a nice something. And you might like it. And it might be a little printed sneak peak of ROMEO REDEEMED also with my signature on it.<--okay, so that's what it will be. But *might* sounds more mysterious. *Waves mysterious hands*)

-I will stick a few postcards in there for you to share with friends. Also with signature.

So there. As I said, I'll be eternally grateful. I'm grateful whenever anyone buys one of my books, but this is my first hardcover and I know they're expensive and I know times are hard for so many people right now and I am deeply thankful for anyone who saves up their hard earned money to buy my big, heavy book. (It is big. And heavy. Or I think it will be heavy. I have yet to hold the hardcover in my hand, but I can imagine it and my imagination says it's going to be wondrously heavy.)

Thank you. Off to beat Monday into submission. (Scrappy little Monday today, isn't it?)

Stacey Jay

EDITED TO ADD: Unfortunately I've just learned that Katie is unable to ship internationally at this time. In order to address the signed book needs of internationals, however, I propose the following: You can order a copy of JULIET IMMORTAL (with free international shipping) from The Book Depository at the following link:

http://www.bookdepository.com/Juliet-Immortal-Stacey-Jay/9780385908269

After you order, if you send me some proof of purchase (with any personal information you wouldn't like me to see deleted from the email), and a snail mail address, I'm willing to pay shipping to send you an autographed label to stick on the inside of the book, as well as whatever light weight goodies I can fit into a business class envelope. I know it's not quite the same, but it's the best I can do as far as my current shipping overseas budget allows.

Hope this works for some of you! And sorry again that international mailing isn't easier for all of us.

EDITED ALSO TO ADD:

All my internationals, please contact me (not the bookstore) directly via my contact page:

http://www.staceyjay.com/contact/

That way we can spare Katie some email and I can let you know I received your request and when I'll be mailing out the signed book stickers and extras and blah blah.

Okay! Think we're set now!

Stacey

2009 Deb Anthology Cover reveal!

Hey all!

It's been a crazy week work wise, but I didn't want Friday to slip through my fingers without sharing this gorgeous cover. I'm so excited to be a part of The First Time anthology, edited by Jessica Verday (with Rhonda Stapleton). The Debutantes of 2009 have been such an amazing source of writer-ly and personal support for me in the past few years--not to mention a constant source of inspiration, they really are a talented group--and I couldn't be more thrilled to have my name on a cover with some of theirs.

The list of authors includes: Cyn Balog, Lauren Bjorkman, Leigh Brescia, Jennifer Brown, Kirstin Cronn-Mills, Janet Gurtler, Teri Hall, Cheryl Renee Herbsman, Stacey Jay, Heidi R. Kling, C. Lee McKenzie, Saundra Mitchell, Jenny Moss, Jackson Pearce, Shani Petroff, Carrie Ryan, Sydney Salter, Kurtis Scaletta, Jon Skovron, Kristina Springer, Rhonda Stapleton, Charity Tahmaseb, Jessica Verday, J.A. Yang, and Lara Zielin.

With 25 different authors contributing, there's sure to be something here for everyone! From first kiss to first love, there’s no time like the first time. This will be an eBook only (available via Amazon, B&N, and Smashwords) and the tentative release date is October 2011.

I hope you'll add this one to your list!

Have a lovely weekend. I promise I'll be back with actual content next week. I've been in my "thinking about how to fix editorial letter issues" cave for ROMEO REDEEMED, but I think I've found THE ANSWER, thank you Zeus!

Stacey Jay

FAIRY BAD DAY By Amanda Ashby-Giveaway!

"Fairy Bad Day is fairy awesome supernatural slaying fun." -Stacey Jay

Yep, that's my quote right there. FAIRY BAD DAY is the first (and so far only) book I've ever blurbed, and I was oh-so-happy to do it. Amanda Ashby is sweeter than Skittles (the sweet kind, not the sour kind) and her book is the perfect beach read--fun, funny, fast paced, romantic, with a side of danger and a hint of silly.

About the book:

It’s going to be a fairy bad day

First, my rightful designation of dragon slayer is STOLEN right out from under me by Curtis Green. Sure, he’s really cute, but that doesn’t give him an excuse.

On top of that, I am assigned to slay fairies. I know what you’re thinking—how hard could it be right? Wrong! These menacing beasts with their tiny hipster clothes and mocking sarcasm love taunting me. And they won’t STOP!

But the thing that tops my list of stuff to ruin my day? That would be the GIANT KILLER FAIRY that I have to hunt down and slay because I am the only one who can see it. There is someone who can help me. Unfortunately… it’s Curtis.

About Amanda Ashby:

The official bio:

Amanda Ashby was born in Australia, has spent eight years in England and currently lives in New Zealand. When she's not moving country, she also likes to write books (okay, she also likes to eat chocolate, watch television and sit around doing not much, but let's just keep that amongst ourselves, shall we?)

She has a degree in English and Journalism from the University of Queensland and is married with two children. As well as writing, she works part-time at the children/teen desk of her local library, which basically means that someone pays her to talk about books. Her debut book, You Had Me at Halo was nominated for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice award, and her current book Zombie Queen of Newbury High was listed by the New York Public Library's Stuff for the Teen Age 2010 as well as being nominated for the YALSA popular paperback 2011.

My thoughts:

Amanda is awesome. She's the sweetest thing you'll ever meet and funny as heck and just good, solid folk. When I finally meet her in person, she's in for a fierce hug.

You can buy the book:

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Indie Bookstores

Book Depository

You can WIN the book right here! Just leave a comment on this post between now and next Monday morning and I will pick one winner to receive my very own ARC of FAIRY BAD DAY, as well as some other stuff (who knows what goodies I will pull from my promotional closet!?).

So go forth! Comment! Win! Read!

Stacey Jay

Want to help spread the DEAD ON THE DELTA word?

Have a snail mail?

Have a good place to hand out DEAD ON THE DELTA magnets and over-sized postcards?

Want my eternal gratitude and cyber sparkles and probably a multitude of virgins awaiting you in the heavenly kingdom? (Kidding about the virgins. That promise is a LOT less enticing from the woman's point of view, you know what I'm saying? Those crazy extremist Muslims!! *pinches cheeks of crazy extremists*)

So anyway, send me an email at stacey.jay.ya at gmail dot com with the subject line "Give me some stuff, woman!" and I will send you some stuff. And maybe...a little treat-y bit. (Because people who help spread the word deserve treat-y bits, don't you think?)

Stay tuned for a rant-y post about swimsuit season and a writer friend give away! All to come! In just a day or two or three! AH! So exciting!<--not really that excited. Exhausted. Want sleep. Want to know if I'm moving or not. Annoyed by listing agent and his dumbness about things like real estate. And floods. And holes for floods to come inside crawl spaces. And closing permits. And turning on the FREAKING gas before the inspection. And generally sucking butt in such a major way that we may lose over a grand in inspection costs because "Oh, maaaannn, we just wanted someone who had cash. Who like...didn't need to inspect the place and shizz. Dude, trying to do my job is sooo haaarrrrddddd...."<--sometimes people make me very, very annoyed.

The end.

Stacey

I interrupt this blog for an emergency post about salad

AT LONG LAST!!!!

I have done it! I have finally done it. My quest to create the world's most perfect salad has come to an end!! And now, I am here to share this glorious discovery with the world at large (or the 137 people following this blog. You won't be sorry, people. This salad is to DIE for.)

How to make this bitchin' salad:

1 Bag of Field Greens or Spring Mix Salad (Or 3-4 tong fulls in bulk. I buy the bags. I am lazy and hate to wash and pat dry.)

1 cup of chopped fennel

1 cup of chopped celery

4 tablespoons of chopped fresh mint

2 tablespoons of chopped fresh cilantro

2 tablespoons of chopped fresh dill (Or use a teaspoon of the dried stuff, fresh dill can be hard to find.)

Generous coating of fresh ground pepper.

1/3 cup of olive oil

1/3 cup of champagne citrus vinegar (or use 1/4 cup of balsamic and squeeze half a fresh lemon).

One knife edge full of truffle salt. (Hard to find and expensive, but lasts forever and SO good. SOOOOO gooooooodddddd. Alternately, use fresh ground sea salt.)

Toss together and devour and devour and devour.<--seriously. This could change the way you feel about salad FOREVER!!!

Or this could just be my personal perfect salad. I hope you find it enjoyable, or find your own perfect salad someday very soon.

This post brought to you by salad awareness month.*

Happy Weekend,

Stacey Jay

*No such thing that I know of. But there should be. There should be...

Don't tell my mother*

But....

I got a new tattoo. It is pretty. It looks better in video:



Some answers to questions you might have about this video and tattoo:

1. No, I'm not normally this dressed up. It's date night, my friends, and I do occasionally put on The Fancy for my husband. (Also, my dress was 12.99 at TJMaxx. Go forth, girls, and score it. So soft and comfy.)

2. Yes, my bathroom is always that messy. I have shit to do and can not be bothered cleaning the bathroom all the time. (And no, that wasn't a poop joke. But it could be, if you're so inclined.)

3. No, I can't behave normally in a video. I have video-phobia. I'm working through it. Some day I may vlog. Or not. Blergh.

4. I'm whispering because the baby's asleep. And because my voice sounds like I'm twelve and I didn't want to detract from my new tattoo's awesomeness with my squeaky voice.

5. Yes, it reads "Mine." I was going to get my parents initials on the banner--because I have a heart with mine and the hub's initials on the other wrist--but then I realized that I already have a tattoo on my hip that I got with my mom on my 18th birthday and my dad's nickname for me tattooed on my ankle, so the 'rents were already covered. Then I thought about getting my boys' initials on there, but those little turds already marked me up enough on the way out (stretch marks are also forever, people, and they're not nearly as pretty or multi-colored) so that was out--and I also didn't want them to find that creepy when they got older. But then I thought, what about me? Shouldn't I have some reminder handy in case I forget who I belong to? Yes, I thought, that is a good idea.

I love it. I love tattoos.

*sigh*

Back to the salt mines. I have 2000 words and a 3 chapter edit (last three chapters, they're being surly) to do for BLOOD ON THE BAYOU and then it will be ready to send off! Whee! All the awesome feedback about DEAD ON THE DELTA has really made it fun finishing up this book. Thank you so much for all your support. And please, if you feel so inclined, share your opinion online at Barnes and Noble or Amazon and help DEAD ON THE DELTA get in the hands of new readers. I--and Annabelle and Cane and Hitch and Deedee and Gimpy and Tucker, who is pulling out some BIG surprises here at the end of book two, and really wants a third book (or more)--would very much appreciate it.

Best, best-y, bestest,

Stacey

*just kidding. you can tell my mother. she doesn't care. she'll see the tattoo eventually. it is kind of on my wrist and hard to hide.

Rhondas. Wretched Rhondas.

Once upon a time, when I was about four years old, my family moved from our double wide trailer to a lovely suburban neighborhood. I don't remember much about our house--we didn't live there long--except that I loved having my own bedroom upstairs and that my mom did some kick ass decorating in the family room.

There was a lot of 70's-riffic awesomeness like ships in bottles, brown and orange flower tapestries, a bumpy, itchy couch with more orange and brown spots on it, and a REALLY BIG eight track player. (My mother used to sit me in front of the eight track speakers and put on "Puff the Magic Dragon" when it was time to brush out my hair after my bath. This was in the days before she discovered conditioner, so I always associate that song with painful tugs at my scalp and trying not to cry--and not just because the song is hopelessly sad and Jackie Paper a douche for abandoning Puff in the land of make believe.)

But all that is still a little vague. The thing that stands out most about our time in that home was that it was the first time in my life that I was surrounded by other kids. My parents had always lived out in the country or in a trailer park inhabited primarily by kindly retirees, but now I couldn't stumble out my front door and down the side walk without running into kids.

Big kids! Little kids! Boys on bikes! Girls jumping rope! Gatherings of boys and girls having slip'n'slide parties and bouncing on trampolines and laughing and playing and ohmygodsurbibiawasawonderland!

I was in heaven. I found a group of little girls about my age and was certain we were all going to play together forever. I was especially enamored of Rhonda, a beautiful girl with silky white-blond hair who was quite a bit shorter than I, even though she was six whole years old and went to half day kindergarten and was probably the coolest person in the entire world.

I worshiped Rhonda. She looked almost exactly the way I imagined a princess would--if that princess wore pink shorts with matching pink flamingo t-shirts. For a few days, our relationship flourished. But by the first neighborhood pool party of the summer, the new had worn off of the new girl. From the second I arrived in my blue swimsuit with the white polka dots and the butt roughed up from too much swimming the year before, Rhonda did her best to avoid me. I followed her around like a puppy, alternating between trying to think up SUPER fun games we could play and offering to fetch her snacks. But all too soon, Rhonda tired of even my slavish devotion. She turned to me and said,

"I'd like to politely ask you to leave, Stacey."

I froze. I was certain I'd heard her wrong, despite the fact that her two other friends--one also six, the other five, both in kindergarten--were standing behind her, staring at me with identical "buzz off you big baby" expressions. (One of them had already said that I was too big to be four and was probably a liar a few minutes before, so I knew they weren't fans.)

"But I can't leave. My mama and daddy are here," I said, trying very hard not to cry because I knew that would only prove I was even more of a baby and result in me being exiled into friendlessness.

Rhonda cocked her head. "Well, why don't you ask them to leave, too. I don't think my mommy likes your mommy, anyway."

I reeled. I clutched my stomach and almost threw up my push pop. Not liking me was understandable--I was only four and not a delicate princess in pink like Rhonda and couldn't even read yet--but how could she infer that anyone wouldn't like my mom? My mom was...my mom. She could do no wrong, even when she was tugging out my tangles with a tiny toothed comb.

The day went black. I ran for my mother, hysterical. I don't remember leaving the party, but I remember my mom being royally pissed off and forbidding me to play with Rhonda ever again. Even when we were riding bikes around the neighborhood, and Rhonda came to the edge of her perfectly manicured grass and asked me to play, Mom would never allow me to go into her yard again. Even though I wanted to, so badly. I was sure Rhonda had seen the error of her ways and was going to be nice to me now. I decided the horrible pool party night had just been an awful mistake and would never happen again. I nagged and nagged and nagged to be allowed to play with Rhonda again, but I never was.

Now, of course, I know why. Rhonda learned to be Rhonda from someone. It's a rare six year old who is instinctively that bitchy. I'm sure she was simply mimicking her mama, emulating the snarky behavior she saw modeled at home.

Sometimes, when I see all the lamenting amongst grown-ups about kids bullying kids, I wonder if our efforts to eliminate bullies amongst our children would be more effective if we stopped tolerating/being bullies ourselves.

The end.

p.s. This is supposed to be a funny story. It's raining today, so my ability to judge funny is off. Stupid rain.