It’s official. The female is a filthy liar. She signed a contract this week to have Storm Called turned into an audiobook. It should be produced and releasing later this year. But, it’s getting done despite her saying hell no.
She has also signed a contract for Burn, Baby, Burn, Blending In, and Hypnos. She figured if she’s going to go in, she may as well go all in and see what happens. Maybe good things?
Audiobooks, dear human, are vexing to the female and wrought with peril.
But she’s doing them.
Last but not Leashed is the next audiobook project scheduled to release, and it should be within a month. We’ll be upfront about this, humans: there were issues with this one. As it’s unprofessional to go into the nature of the issues, we’re just going to leave it at that and hope for the best.
We have a new male narrator for the Magical Romantic Comedy (with a body count) series, and we hope this makes everything move forward better in the future.
Onto the teaser! This is from Burn, Baby, Burn, which releases next week. We think all of the humans should preorder, as when the female celebrates, we get extra love and a lot of treats. We like treats, so we need to make sure she celebrates extra next week.
We demand treats, humans.
My phone beeped, and I glanced at the device. While Bailey often messaged me to reassure herself, she usually waited longer than ten minutes. Our morning routine hadn’t changed; she’d crawled out of bed with the same general liveliness of a half-dead slug while I’d kept a close eye on her until she finished her shower. Rewarding her with kisses for restoring her base ability to function had earned me a hefty dose of her contentment.
All in all, she’d been more energetic than usual.
“You may as well pull over, Sam. I know that’s Bailey’s text tone. If you don’t, you’ll fret.”
Some days, partnering with Perkins gave me a headache. “Why am I driving you to work again?”
“Tiffany wanted to move to Queens, I don’t have a cruiser today, and she wanted the car. As you’re so compassionate—and you didn’t want me to be late getting to work—you agreed to drive me in. Just pull over before she calls—or decides to take the convertible for a joy ride and tail you today.”
She would. She’d done it twice, and it amazed me that my car had survived. The third time, I’d endured her at her worst, running around a late fall Manhattan on four hooves, determined to make certain I stayed out of trouble. Cindercorns didn’t handle cold weather well, and she’d about scared the life out of me after reversing back to human. It had taken hours for her to warm back up, and she’d suffered from symptoms of hypothermia for several days before recovering.
Her ability to attract catastrophe sent me to work early to do a sweep of the neighborhood. I never found any trouble, but I felt better for putting in the effort. Once I checked to make certain I couldn’t see the house, I pulled into someone’s driveway to check my phone.
A ten item wish list waited for me, and every request puzzled me. “I love my wife, but she’s a little weird sometimes, Perkins.”
~ Wasn’t that little tidbit fun? But, I do think Quinn is deserving of an understatement of the year award. Sometimes is not the word I would have used there, Mr. Quinn.
‘All of the time’ or ‘she’s breathing, so she’s weird’ would work. Also, we of the Furred & Finned Management fully believe Quinn needs to check the dictionary for the meaning of the world ‘little.’
As for other news, the female is diving into the cave of doom and destruction to work on Bonds.
She will also be scheming how to make the fun little Vampire book do its thing.
Last but not least, the Furred & Finned Management would like to take a moment to inform you the world did not end, books did not magically sell in vast quantities overnight, and that life seems exactly as she left it yesterday despite USA Today listing.
(We knew this would happen. We are just confirming for the curious out there.)
Have a great day, humans! We must now force the human to do some actual work and write books. If she doesn’t, we’d have to fire her, and that would be a bad thing.
P.S.: Ignore any of our typos. According to the female, it’s ‘too early in the morning to do jack shit.’ To which we replied, “Shut up and go to work.”