What Was His/Her Best Move?

Years and years ago when I was into acting I did an improv scene with a guy who we'll call Matt. At one point in the scene Matt said something that, to my mind, gave my character the invitation to make a rather broad and comedic sexual overture toward him (only in the context of the scene, of course...Matt was a self-described queen so there was no real sexual tension between us). But as broad and over-the-top as my flirtation was it didn't prepare me for his even more over-the-top reaction. He swiftly strode over to me, kicked my feet out from beneath me and then caught me moments before I hit the floor so that he was in a sort of one-arm push-up position and supporting me with his free arm. Before I knew it I was being faux-ravaged on the stage.

Again, I hadn't seen that one coming. I hadn't even known it was possible. How the hell did he knock me off my feet and then catch me while he was in a plank position? Was he training for Cirque du Soleil? Had he used that move with his boyfriend? If so did his boyfriend worship the ground he walked on? Anyway, that move effectively ended the scene with a gasp and a laugh from the audience (most of whom knew how very-not-straight Matt was) and I was left pondering the physics of the maneuver. Somehow Matt had found a way to best the earth's gravitational pull and I couldn't figure it out.

And now, more than ten years later I STILL can't figure it out. But that didn't stop me from ascribing that move to Anatoly in the next Sophie book, Vows, Vendettas And A Little Black Dress. I waited for my editor to tell me that I was straining believability but while he did make a suggestion about the sex scene in which the move was incorporated he didn't have a problem with the maneuver itself. Then the copy editor had a go at the manuscript and she didn't say boo. This copy editor is very good at picking up on little things that don't seem right or worse yet, don't seem possible, but that move didn't even cause her to raise an eyebrow. Perhaps my editors date different kinds of people than I do and think that move is run-of-the-mill. Who knows? In fact the only thing I do know is that the maneuver makes for good reading and whoever is dating Matt now is a lucky, lucky guy.

But it got me thinking...there must be LOTS of other fantastic moves that I haven't thought of that others have experienced (that point is verified every time I pick up an issue of Cosmo). I'm not just talking about things that happen within the act of sex itself. For instance, once upon a time I was in a relationship with a man and while we were walking down the street I teased him about being so preoccupied with his own issues that he had forgotten to kiss me that evening. He smiled and without a word grabbed me, dipped me so low I had to throw up a leg for balance and then he kissed me. When the kiss finally ended the women who happened to be in the area literally broke out into applause. The guy ended up being Mr. Wrong in a very big way but still, that little display was both impressive and memorable.

So now I'm putting the question to you: What was his/her best move? Did your spouse/boyfriend/girlfriend/lover once kiss you in a wildly romantic way that you'll never forget? Has anyone ever been able to take your breath away in one single maneuver? Will you share (you can always post anonymously if you choose)? And just so you know, there is a STRONG possibility that what you say might appear in a novel. Certain moves are so good they deserve to be documented for prosperity.

Kyra Davis
Bestselling Author of:
The Sophie Katz Murder Mystery Series,
and
SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING
Order LUST, LOATHING AND A LITTLE LIP GLOSS on Amazon or Barnesandnoble.com today!

Thanksgiving In Santa Cruz

This Thanksgiving I've come home to Santa Cruz. Santa Cruz is the city where I grew up and my mother now lives in the same house that my grandparents used to live in; a house my grandfather designed and built himself. The house and the town holds lots of wonderful memories for me but even as a child I knew Santa Cruz wouldn't be my home forever. Filled with surfers, self-proclaimed hippies and little shops selling crystals and tarot cards the city has always been unique but it isn't my scene. While I was a resident here I longed for the museums, department stores, restaurants, clubs and the urban culture and ethnic diversity that can only be found in the large cities of this country. It was my longing for those things that prompted me to move to San Francisco when I was only seventeen. It's what brought me to New York and now LA. Despite spending almost all of my childhood years in Santa Cruz I have always identified much more with San Francisco. Over the years Santa Cruz has grown considerably. There are condos where there used to be communes. But it's still Santa Cruz and I still know that I will never want to move back here.

And yet whenever I do come for a visit I remember what there is to love about this place. There is no denying its beauty. I love the way the seals and otters play in the harbor. I love the way the air is so crisp and clean. I love the sense of peace that permeates this place with the quiet roar of the ocean. I took my son to see the tide-pools by the beach and he pointed out a small crab who had made his home in one of them. "For that crab living in that tide-pool is like living in Santa Cruz," he said. "The crab's whole world is that tide-pool, he's totally sheltered and protected from the ocean and everything that's in it! He might not even know the ocean's there!"

"But," he said, looking up at me with a sweet little smile, "it's a very pretty tide-pool. Plus it's not like any of the other tide-pools around it. It's not a bad place for him to live."

As usual my son summed up my feelings in a metaphor that is much more accurate and poetic than anything I could have come up with myself.

Personally, I love living in my metaphorical ocean and I can't see myself ever giving it up for anything smaller or more tame. But I do enjoy visiting my old tide-pool every once in a while and I understand why so many of my childhood schoolmates have chosen to stay.

It's incredibly pretty here.



Kyra Davis
Bestselling Author of:
The Sophie Katz Murder Mystery Series,
and
SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING
Order LUST, LOATHING AND A LITTLE LIP GLOSS on Amazon or Barnesandnoble.com today!

Vegas Baby!

Ever since I saw Hangover I've been dying to bring Sophie to Vegas. It's kind of weird because I'm not much of a Vegas girl myself. I'm only a four hour drive away and yet it's been six years since I've gone. That was my first time and it was to celebrate a friend's birthday. I had a lot of fun; I even won some money but when it's vacation time there's always a choice: Vegas or somewhere else. Without fail I've consistently chosen somewhere else. Maybe it's the cigarette-smoke filled rooms or the fact that I'm not much of a gambler...who knows. Maybe it's because when I was there it was 119 degrees outside. That was a bit hard to take.

But the city definitely has its appeal and its reputation for decadence makes it fertile ground for screenwriters...or novelists. Think about it: Sophie, Mary Ann, Dena and Marcus all in Vegas...think of the trouble they could get in? THINK ABOUT ALL THE THINGS DENA COULD DO IN VEGAS!

The problem is that I'm not all that familiar with the city of sin. I'd be hard pressed to describe Vegas or its many landmarks.

So I'm thinking it's time to take my second Vegas trip. Maybe in January when it won't be 119 degrees. Any suggestions as to what I should see once I arrive? Remember, if I see it Sophie might too.

And of course if you live in the area let me know. I'll buy you a drink and you can tell me where to see the best Elvis impersonators.

Kyra Davis
Bestselling Author of:
The Sophie Katz Murder Mystery Series,
and
SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING
Order LUST, LOATHING AND A LITTLE LIP GLOSS on Amazon or Barnesandnoble.com today!

A Ten-Year-Old Boy's Review of 2012

This weekend my brother took my ten-year-old son to see 2012. I had actually been looking forward to seeing the movie myself and when I learned that's what they had gone to see I immediately asked my son what he thought about it.

"It sucked," he said cheerily.

"Really?" My son is not difficult to please when it comes to action films so I was a little surprised by such a succinct and unqualified criticism. "Were the special effects any good?"

"Yes," he said, "but that was the only good thing. The rest was dumb. The Apocalypse took two whole weeks! It was, like, the longest Apocalypse ever! It should have been a lot shorter."

"Well," I hedged, "The director, Roland Emmerich, is sort of known for his ability to destroy the planet in his movies."

"What do you mean?" My son asked skeptically.

"I mean that in his previous movies he has always had some sort of apocalyptic event that results in the destruction of most of the earth which his team demonstrates in stunning special effects. This is the third movie in which he destroys Los Angeles and from what I've heard he's done it more convincingly and spectacularly in this film than in any of his others."

"But why does he always destroy the earth in his movies?" My son asked.

"Probably because it's fun?"

My son thought about this for moment before replying. "It probably is fun," my son admitted. "But if that's all he wanted to do then he should have just done a montage. A montage of destruction."

Yes, those are the words he used. A montage of destruction.

"Look," he continued with a somewhat exasperated tone, "I like watching things get blown up as much as everybody else. But if that's all the movie is then I don't want to see it! There was no plot, mom! Now if it was a Youtube video of course I would have wanted to see it because YouTube videos are short! All this movie maker had to do was blow up a whole bunch of stuff and just show those scenes and leave the rest out. He didn't have to try to make up a story around it because he really wasn't very good at that part at all. Okay?"

So there you have it, my son's review of 2012. Great special effects but no plot or any semblance of a story (and remember, this is from a ten-year-old who wasn't exactly looking for a lot of complexity or subtext). You might want to wait until someone posts the highlights on YouTube.

Kyra Davis
Bestselling Author of:
The Sophie Katz Murder Mystery Series,
and
SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING
Order LUST, LOATHING AND A LITTLE LIP GLOSS on Amazon or Barnesandnoble.com today!

Last Bit Of Fantasy Reading I SWEAR

First I have to thank all of you who commented on my blog or sent me emails. It really was helpful. The thing is that giving you a couple of paragraphs without introducing Maya doesn't really work. Genevieve and Marcel's world is so much more serious than Maya's...it's the convergence of her modern perspective and there's that is going to have to set the tone (should I continue with this). So I'll post some more pages, feel free to comment/email/facebook me through the weekend and then by Monday I'll be back to my regular blogging. If you're a teen I would particularly like to know if the idea of reading about college students vs. high school students holds any appeal to you at all. Lastly, if you haven't read yesterday's blog post you might want to start there. Okay, no more commentary on my part. Here are the pages:

It should have been a typical day. Maya glanced at her boyfriend, Matt, as they crossed the street. He was talking again. She was catching enough of his monologue to know that he was bragging about getting wasted at the keg party for which she had feigned illness to avoid. On a typical day that would have irritated her but today she couldn’t bring herself to care. She could barely focus on him at all. Today The Music was too distracting.

So she nodded and smiled encouragingly hoping that would be enough of a response to placate him. Matt’s parents had taken away his car for a month (again) as punishment for being caught cutting class (again) so today they were walking home, something Maya was infinitely grateful for. She didn’t want to be confined, not now when the wind was cool and exhilarating. Maya swatted at her curls impatiently as they whipped across her face. It was April 20^th but the weather reminded her of fall. She could taste the salt of the ocean in the air. She liked that. It somehow gelled with The Music.

“I only had one beer bong. It was the ganja that got me wasted. Dave brought the good stuff! He made brownies and everything. I ate like five.” Matt went on, his perfectly tanned face stretching into a proud grin.

“Mmm-hmm.” Maya offered another closed mouth smile. She loved Santa Cruz when the weather was like this. When the gray clouds promised a storm and the evergreens danced compliantly in the wind. Sometimes she wondered if the trees could hear The Music. But that was stupid. Trees didn’t have that kind of awareness. Still, it would be comforting if at least one other thing on earth could hear what she heard.

She had tried to talk to her parents about it ages ago. Her mother had misunderstood. She thought the music Maya heard was of her own creation, like she was some kind of musical prodigy. Within days of bringing her mother into her confidence Maya found herself being dragged to piano lessons. After countless hours spent sitting on a bench running her fingers over a bunch of ivory keys Maya had become a competent musician but not an inspired one and she hadn’t composed anything. What her mother failed to grasp was that what Maya heard couldn’t be expressed through a single instrument. It couldn’t even be expressed through a 70-piece orchestra. As far as Maya could tell the only one who had ever come marginally close to replicating the sound was Mozart but even he hadn’t been able to do it full justice. But had he heard it? Maybe…or maybe not.

Maya’s father had misunderstood too. He had thought she was crazy. It was after her parents had a knock-down-drag-out fight over whether or not Maya should be medicated that Maya decided to retract her story. Her parents didn’t need to know about everything she heard. No one did.

And normally The Music didn’t serve as a distraction at all. If anything it motivated her, fueled her passions and even helped her focus. When she thought about it she had to admit that The Music might be the very reason why she DIDN’T need Ritilan.

“You know that old Prince song, Purple Rain?”

Maya blinked and tried to bring her attention back to her companion. At least he had changed the subject. “I’ve heard it. My mom has it on her iPod.”

“Okay, so Jared came to the party with this super cool bong. It was like, really intricate. He calls it Purple Rain ‘cause, you know, it’s like five different shades of purple but it’s small, you know, like Prince. And it turns out Jared made the bong himself!”

“Oh.” She had made a mistake. She never should have stopped ignoring him.

“Dude, and I thought Jared was dumb! I was way off about him!”

“You can be dumb and still build a bong.” She inhaled another lungful of sea air. How was she ever going to manage living away from the ocean?

“You think?” Matt asked.

“Yes, I feel fairly confident about this one.”

“Huh.” A car drove by with its radio blaring and Matt sent it a quick covetous glance. “I don’t know. I think there’s some skill involved in building something like that. I’m going to have to visit you when you go to Harvard.”

“You don’t have to,” she said a bit to quickly. This relationship was never destined to last past Grad Night. He was a great surfing buddy and she enjoyed training with him (Matt was the only other triathlete in their senior class) but that was about it. She had only agreed to go out with him because every other girl in the school had wanted to. Between his athletic abilities, his Zac Effronesque good looks and his hand-me-down Porsche Matt was considered to be the most datable guy at her high school. Saying yes when he asked you to go out with him was the normal thing to do and Maya had learned that it was beneficial to occasionally do the normal thing if only for appearances sake.

She turned her attention to the houses they were walking by. A small aqua-blue Victorian next to a salmon colored Spanish styled home next to a light brown cottage next to a boxy 1960’s style house with dark wood paneling. It was amazing that anything could be considered “normal” in this town that embraced the banana slug as a school mascot and “Keep Santa Cruz Weird,” as a motto. But Maya knew that underneath it all she was a lot weirder than most and not in a way that her classmates would consider cool. She wouldn’t be normal in Harvard either but it would be easier to hide her eccentricities once she was one student out of 25,000 rather than one of a 1000. She was grateful to have been raised in Santa Cruz but it was beginning to feel a little claustrophobic. Although today…why did everything feel like it was expanding? Like there were possibilities around every corner…or at least a few corners. Why did The Music sound different? It was more intimate and anticipatory.

It was kind of exciting.

“No, I want to visit you,” Matt persisted. “I’ll come with you to a few of the college parties just to prove my point. How much do you want to bet that the Harvard students know how to build epic bongs?”

“Oh I’m sure they do,” Maya deadpanned. “They even ask you about it on the college application. On the bottom of page three it asks Do you have mad skills as a bong maker. It’s considered a preferred extra-curricular activity.”

Matt laughed appreciatively. “If that was true they never would have accepted you. But trust me, you might not smoke now but you will by the end of your freshman year in college. Everybody smokes in college.”

Maya shrugged. Everybody smoked in High school too. She wasn’t a prude and didn’t like to judge but…but there were so many interesting things going on! She wanted to be able to focus on it all. She didn’t want her senses dulled and she had no desire to drown out the naturally intoxicating turbulence of the world around her…not even when things were really horrible, like they had been when Elena had been killed.

“Maybe I’m wrong, though,” Matt said. “Even if Harvard did want their students to be doped up they still would of taken you.” The wind ruffled his hair making him look tantalizingly mischievous. Maya couldn’t help think that his looks should have been given to someone else, someone who had the personality to live up to them. They slowed their step and then stopped at the edge of her front yard. Matt moved a little closer to her and grinned. “You know why Harvard really wants you.”

She flashed him a quick look of warning but as usual he wasn’t picking up the hint. “When they admit you they can check off every box on their diversity goal sheet.”

Maya’s face became as smooth as glass as she sucked the anger inside of her…to a place where she could use it and allow it to seep out slowly instead of burst out in a violent explosion. “You’re saying I got in because I’m multiracial?” Her voice was as steady as a concrete foundation.

“Well duh! You’re more than multiracial anyway. You’re like…like seriously multiracial! You’re mom’s side’s Jewish AND Persian AND Russian and like, your dad’s dad is from the friggin’ Congo and your dad’s mom is from Korea!”

“Malaysia.”

“Right, well I was close.”

“Yes, kind of like how California is close to Venezuela. I don’t suppose you’ve noticed that I’ve been taking almost all AP classes.”

“Yeah,” he laughed sympathetically. “You’re a serious nerd but you’re a seriously sweet nerd. I like that”

She could hear the blood rush to her ears as she fought for control. She had worked so hard to get where she was. The classes had been nothing compared to everything else. The community service work the leadership positions, the millions of little things she had done to ensure her path. For years now she had known that she had to be bigger than herself. She couldn’t settle for pursuing her own dreams and goals. She had to pursue those of her sister, Elena, as well. Her grandmother had once told her that a child is a parent’s gift to the world and to destroy that kind of gift was unforgivable. Elena had been destroyed but the impact she was going to have on the world would remain intact.

Maya was making that happen and her success had nothing to do with her ethnicity. To reduce it to that was a monstrous insult and for a moment she considered punching Matt. If she closed her eyes she could visualize it, hear the sound he would make when her knuckles hit his stomach. But he wasn’t worth the effort. He wasn’t even worth a sneer.

“So what do you say? Your mom’s not home from work and…well, can I come in?”

“Go home Matt.” She turned her back and went to the mailbox.

“Ah, come on! Don’t get in one of your moods.”

She ignored him and reached for the mailbox and then paused. Was the music getting louder? She yanked the mailbox open. Wedged inside was a large envelope. She pulled it out with a tug and realized that it actually wasn’t a large envelope, not exactly. It was a FAT envelope, the kind of envelope universities send you when you’ve been accepted. And this fat envelope was from…

A little cry escaped Maya’s lips as she struggled to steady her hands. It was addressed to her! Her name, her address and the return address…God, it couldn’t be a hoax, could it? No one was that cruel!

Actually she knew better than that. Still this felt real. Her hands were warmed by it almost as if it was emanating its own heat and The Music it was chaotic, and jubilant and…and….this had to be real!

“Holy crap!”

She hadn’t heard Matt walk up behind her and now that he had spoken she still couldn’t look at him or anything other than what she was holding.

“Krisa University? Nobody gets into Krisa! It’s like friggin impossible! Remember Tim Singh who graduated two years ahead of us? He skipped two grades and got a 1600 on his SAT and even HE couldn’t get in!”

“But that kid in Calistoga did a year before that. It was in the news, remember?” She wasn’t really talking to Matt now or if she was it wasn’t intentional. She just needed to add her own voice to the moment…make it real.

“I got my rejection letter over a month ago!” Matt said. He stomped his foot against a dry leaf and it responded with a satisfactory crackle.

“You applied?” But she hadn’t really needed to ask. Despite Matt’s insistence that nobody ever got in everyone with half a brain…or perhaps in Matt’s case a quarter of a brain, applied. It's just that NOBODY expected to be accepted. Krisa’s selection process was utterly random. Sometimes they did take a school’s valedictorian but then there were stories of kids who had barely managed to graduate high school who had miraculously managed to score admission. Kids who hadn’t even bothered to take the SAT! And then there were those like Tim Singh, the perfect student who had been passed up. The guy had gotten into Oxford but he was passed up by this little sixty year old university that was spread out between two privately owned islands four hundred miles off the coast of Puerto Rico.

But those who were accepted…the kids who actually got their degrees from there…those kids didn’t end up making their livings as executive assistants or run-of-the-mill CPAs. Krisa graduates were leaders in the most literal sense of the word. They were presidents and dictators and miracle surgeons. They were the men and women who ran Wall Street and the scientists who redefined the heavens. There were Krisa graduates who had started some of the most compassionate and effective charities on earth and then there were the others…the ones who waged the most violent wars.

But no matter what they did they always led. They always changed the world.

And Krisa U had just sent Maya a fat envelope.

“Well now you’ve got to let me in!” Matt insisted. “I have to see what’s in there!”

“No.” She shook her head and for once she offered Matt a genuinely sympathetic smile. “I know you want to know but I really have to do this myself.”

“But—“

“You said you were going to take me surfing early tomorrow morning, remember? I’ll tell you all about it then.”

“But—"

“Matt,” Maya’s voice had dropped an octave. She wasn’t playing. “I’m opening this envelope by myself….alone. Go. Home.”

“You’re bitch, you know that?”

“Two minutes ago I was a seriously sweet nerd,” Maya shot back but she didn’t really mind the insult. People had called her worse and besides it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now but the envelope. The excitement that she hadn’t been able to define before was now bubbling up inside her and impulsively she ruffled Matt’s already mussed hair before turning her back and running to her front door as she fumbled to pull her keys out of her book bag with her one free hand.

She could hear Matt calling out to her as she stepped inside and slammed the door impatiently.

She leaned her back against the door and exhaled. She let her book bag fall to the floor and out of the corner of her eye she could see her lipstick roll out and disappear under the console.

Maybe she shouldn’t open it. Maybe it wasn’t what she thought it was. She should savor the moment before exposing herself to a possibly devastating disappointment.

She ripped open the envelope.

Dear Maya Adeyemi ,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Krisa University.

Maya’s knees gave out from underneath her and she sank to the floor. She had achieved the impossible.

And The Music was spectacular.

Kyra Davis
Bestselling Author of:
The Sophie Katz Murder Mystery Series,
and
SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING
Order LUST, LOATHING AND A LITTLE LIP GLOSS on Amazon or Barnesandnoble.com today!

First Few Pages Of The New Fantasy

I'm going to try something very new here. I've been working on a fantasy novel...it's quite different than what I've done in the past and I'm not sure how it will play but since I have so many fabulous and honest blog-readers I thought I'd introduce it here. If you love it...actually I'm not sure what I'll do if you love it. I'll either make a separate blog and continue the story in segments or I'll sit down, write the book on my own and then sell it as a novel. If you're not feeling it I'll play with it a little more before moving it forward.

The reality is that you are more important than my editor which is saying something because my editor rocks. But you are my readership. I wouldn't have a career if it wasn't for you. So read these few pages and PLEASE COMMENT. I want to know what you think even if you hate it. I'm tough, I can take it.

So with no further adieu I bring you The Pinnacles:

Chapter 1

Genevieve stared at the two names on top of the list in front of her. She pressed her hand against her mahogany desk, the dark wood only accentuating the whiteness of her skin and her bulging veins that seemed to become more prominent every year. “We can’t do this,” she said as she read the list over for the fiftieth time. “We’d be actively courting destruction.”

“They are Pinnacles,” Marcel said quietly. He was at the other end of the office and he was staring out the window as if he had the power to enjoy the view. Perhaps he did. Even before his blindness he had never relied on his eyes to see. Soothsayers never did.

“I know they’re Pinnacles. That’s the problem!” Genevieve snapped. “There are two of them! Do you realize that in the last twenty years we have had four Pinnacles graduate from this university and if we enroll these two that will bring the number to six in twenty four years!”

“Thank you, but I was able to do the math in my head,” he laughed. “Besides there have been times when there have been more Pinnacles on this earth than that.” Marcel turned and smiled at her. She wished he would wear his dark glasses. In the last few years predating his transition his eyes had looked like those of any other blind man but now his pupils were gone leaving only circles of gray. It was a tad disconcerting.

“Marcel, the last time there were this many Pinnacles around we had a World War. Seventy million people died.”

“But there’s a chance they wouldn’t have if the University of Krisa had existed then,” Marcel reminded her. “If ALL the Pinnacles had been educated at Krisa much of that bloodshed might have been avoided. The Pinnacles of The Darkness might not have prevailed.” He shook his head. “We can’t ignore that.”

“But there is no guarantee that the Pinnacles of Light would have survived the ones of The Darkness even if they had been trained here at Krisa!” Genevieve protested. “Besides, if I’m understanding you correctly what you’re saying…what you’re saying is that we are training these people to annihilate each other!”

“No, that’s not quite right. After all, they’re not exactly people.”

“Marcel!”

“Relax.” His smile was playful now and he moved toward her, effortlessly avoiding the chairs and the side table with all the grace of a dancer. “Look at the two Pinnacles on our entering-student list. There’s Maya…she’s complicated and by the end of her time here there will be blood on her hands but she is not of The Darkness and the same can be said of the other Alejo. Maya and Alejo do not have competing purposes so there will be no motivation to go to battle with one another.”

“But---"

Marcel held up his hand to stop her, his gray orbs moved back and forth as they always did when he was tracking The Descendants. “There was another Pinnacle born this morning and at least two of the Pinnacles that have passed through our halls have now embraced The Darkness. One is near Maya now…and his purpose is directly at odds with hers.”

“Cashile?” Genevieve asked. She glanced toward the window distractedly. She could hear one of the Sirens singing in the distance. Completely unacceptable. If a ship crashed against the rocks there would be consequences. Genevieve would see to that. She could usually reign in her Sirens. It was the Pinnacles that were impossible and Cashile…he was dangerous. She had seen first hand how he could manipulate people’s fears and play on their longing for simplicity. And Maya was barely 18. She wasn’t ready to fight him.

“We gave Cashile an advantage by teaching him what he is,” Marcel said. “Are we going to condemn Maya to death by denying her what we gave him? And Alejo is in danger as well and he might be the most important Pinnacle of all. Are we to turn our backs on him just because having him here is risky? What will happen if we don’t take that risk? Have you thought of that? We have to admit them, Genevieve.”

“But…” Genevieve faltered her eyes slipped to the ancient artifacts that were displayed on the shelves around the room. There were things from the Byzantine, the Assyrian and the Roman Empire. She had statuettes that were made by the Ancient Greeks and the Ancient Egyptians even the Sumarians. Millenniums of human civilization were represented in her office. It would only take one earthquake to bring it all down. How amazingly fragile this world was that it could be brought down by a discordant note, or by the whim of an undisciplined heart. “Marcel,” Genevieve whispered. “Alejo and Maya…what if they fall in love?"

Marcel offered her a sad smile and closed his blind eyes. “Disaster,” he breathed. “We’re playing roulette, Genevieve. The only comfort we have is that we have no choice.”

Okay, now give it to me straight. : )


Kyra Davis
Bestselling Author of:
The Sophie Katz Murder Mystery Series,
and
SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING
Order LUST, LOATHING AND A LITTLE LIP GLOSS on Amazon or Barnesandnoble.com today!

It's The Real Me

A while back a friend of a friend's ex-boyfriend made it clear that he had a thing for me. It wasn't mutual and while I didn't know his ex-girlfriend well I knew enough to be aware that if she found out about her ex's shift in affection there would be needless drama. But of course Mr. Clueless couldn't keep his mouth shut and at a dinner party at which she was in attendance he and his friend brought me up as a topic of conversation (I wasn't there but I certainly heard about it). Anyway, this guy started peppering my friend with questions about my life and my situation and as he went on and on about how impressed he was with me his ex-girlfriend started hitting my friend on the leg under the table and throwing her questioning looks. For the record I don't think he was intentionally trying to antagonize her; she had given him very good reason to believe that she had moved on and was over it and he's a man and men aren't known for their ability to pick up on that kind of emotional subtly.

Anyway, she eventually dragged my friend into the bathroom and asked what was going on. My friend who might have been a little too intoxicated to exercise extreme discretion confirmed this guy's crush and the ex-girlfriend immediately became distraught. Fortunately my friend WAS sober enough to clarify the situation. "If he really knew who Kyra was he wouldn't want her," my friend assured her. "He's the guy who wants a wife who will iron his shirts and have dinner waiting for him every night and that's just not who Kyra is. But you? Yesterday you were churning your own butter! It doesn't get much more domestic than that!"

My friend was absolutely right. This guy didn't know me at all. If he did he wouldn't have been enamored. I had mentioned to him that I tried not to take phone calls from friends while out with another friend because it's rude and he took that to mean that I was proper, which he apparently liked. Proper. It's his word not mine. He had taken one of my pet peeves and woven it into an entire personality...the personality of his dream woman. In the end it was all a moot point because when he finally figured out that his ex still cared about him he quickly lost interest in me and the drama disappeared...well, I'm sure they still had drama but I didn't have to deal with it.

It's hardly the first or last time that a man has "made me up." It happens all the time in the dating world. Frequently when a man is attracted to a woman he'll sort of make her up in his own head. A guy will just superimpose the personality of his choice on someone he thinks is hot and then whenever this woman does or says the slightest thing to support the fantasy he'll cling to it and hold it up as evidence (many women do the exact same thing with the men in their lives). But of course somewhere down the line the whole thing shatters and the truth insists on being known. How many times have I sat across from a date and listened to him describe me TO me only to learn that he doesn't have a clue about what he's talking about. We all know about the fairytale of Love-At-First-Sight and some of you may believe in it and even hope for it. But personally I HATE it when a guy tells me I'm the woman of his dreams before he has taken the time to get to know me. For me there is nothing more uncomfortable and frustrating than being adored for something that I'm not.

When I went on my first publicity tour for Sex, Murder And A Double Latte I realized that I was in danger of having that be the situation with my readers. I went on talk-show after talk show showing the world the side of me my publicist wanted me to reveal. When my publicist (this was the publicist employed by my publisher, not directly by me) decided that we should have a book-tour and launch party in The Hamptons the dress I had planned to wear to the signing was immediately deemed inappropriate. "This dress," the publicist explained, "is very New York. The image we're looking for is very Californian." That dress was one that I had bought in San Francisco and wore with a good deal of regularity all over the Golden State and never in my life has anyone mistaken me for a New Yorker while I was wearing it. But that was this particular publicist's plan, to present me as a fresh, young author who epitomized California...and by that I mean New York's image of California

Here I was, starting my career as a novelist and I was trying to endear readers with an image of myself that was somewhat less than genuine. It bothered me.

Perhaps that's why I blog. The only person who has any control over my blog is me. No one edits me or gives me approval before I post. I just throw it out there. I use this blog as a way of revealing what I'm really thinking and feeling. I tell all of you what's actually going on in my life, what excites me, what scares me, what makes me laugh and what pisses me off. This blog is my truth teller. I can't say that those who read this will ever know me as well as my closest friends and family and I won't make every aspect of my life public but the image of me that you can pull from this page is real and is in no way manufactured.

A couple of days ago I got an email from Christina Makar. She is the creator of the Kyra Davis Fans page on Facebook. She informed me that the membership to that group has now exceeded 200 people. It's overwhelming and incredibly flattering especially since I'm fairly sure the majority of those members are blog readers. If they're fans it's not because they saw me on The Style Network's The Look For Less (a fun show to do but insanely contrived), or because they think I'm an ethnic version of a beach-going-California-surfer-chick (I'm sorry but the water here is WAY too cold for me to take that hobby on), it's because they either like my books, like what they've read here or both. 200+ people who like Sophie enough to want to join a fans page and who appreciate me despite (and occasionally because of) my many imperfections. How could I not be moved by that? Perhaps if I pretended to be a more idealized version of myself then I'd have 400 people in the fan club but then the number would be meaningless.

So for those of you who have joined that page or have expressed your appreciation in other ways such as sending emails, posting comments on my blog, Facebook , Twitter or Myspace page or by just being a loyal reader...well, I want to thank you. It means a lot to me to know that you like me for me.



Kyra Davis
Bestselling Author of:
The Sophie Katz Murder Mystery Series,
and
SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING
Order LUST, LOATHING AND A LITTLE LIP GLOSS on Amazon or Barnesandnoble.com today!

Think Twice Before Posing For That Picture

Quite recently a lawyer who's a close friend of mine won a very important case. Here's the back story: A guy, let's call him...oh, I don't know, how about Mr. Scummy? Mr. Scummy was convicted of the crime of stalking his ex-girlfriend. He had bugged every room of her house and her phone. As if that wasn't bad enough he had made videos of them having sex when they were together and then when she broke it off with him he sent those videos TO HER EMPLOYER.

But Mr. Scummy wasn't interested in dealing with the lasting consequences of his actions. He let a period of time pass after his fairly mild sentence and then he hired himself an excellent lawyer and got his conviction expunged. That is to say that while the court didn't dispute the fact that he did the crime they decided that he was repentant enough to give him another chance. Now, when asked on a job application if he has ever been convicted of a felony he can legally say no which is exactly what he did when he applied to a temp agency. The temp agency hired him and placed him in the probation department of a certain Northern California county. Mr. Scummy happens to be a computer expert and he now had access to the very computers that held his victims records.

Fortunately one of the probation officers recognized him and went directly to the person who was overseeing Mr. Scummy's work. The supervisor called the temp agency and asked if a background check had been done on this guy and the temp agency admitted that no, they hadn't done that. The supervisor then explained that Mr. Scummy had been recognized by a probabtion officer (he didn't say for what crime) and that the temp agency needed to do a background check on him and ANY employee they wanted to place within the probation department. So the Temp agency did the background check and while the conviction did come up the expungement did not. Mr. Scummy was indignant. He said that the information was wrong and so on and so forth and the temp agency told him that if he was able to clear it up they'd happily take him back and place him somewhere else.

So does he do that? No. What he does is hire another crackerjack lawyer and sues the county for giving discriminatory information to the temp agency which led to his "wrongful termination." Furthermore he decided to seek punitive damages. So in other words, after sending videos of his ex-girlfriend having sex to her boss he felt that he deserved to be compensated for the emotional trauma HE suffered when his crimes had a negative affect on his employment. The nice word for that would be chuztpah.

It seems like an open and shut case, right? Not so much. Because the judge wanted to ensure that the jury didn't put too much weight on a crime that had not only been previously tried but also expunged he forbid my friend to use the word "stalking," in court. And since California doesn't consider stalking to be a violent crime all my friend was allowed to tell the jury was that Mr. Scummy had been expunged of a crime that was perpetrated against another and that having access to the victim's records could have possibly lead to a repeat offense.

The language was more than a little weak. To make matters worse while my friend was able to prove through legal precedent that expungement IS a matter of public record and that Mr. Scummy didn't have a right-to-privacy case (as he lawyer had wanted to argue) the judge REFUSED to instruct the jury that this was the case so while Mr. Scummy's lawyer wasn't able to use the words "right to privacy" she certainly was able to argue the case as if that's what it was about.

So basically my friend had to convince the jury that Mr. Scummy was full of shit without telling them WHY he was full of shit. In the meantime Mr. Scummy was putting on quite a performance, telling the Jury how excited he had been to land the county job (keep in mind he NEVER landed a county job, he was working for a temp agency, a point that seems to have been lost on him) that he was a hard working man trying to support his disabled wife (that would be the wife who he cheated on in order to have an affair with the woman whose life he would later make a living hell) and he's really just a good family man, looking for a fresh start only to be victimized by his employer.

And for a while it looked like Mr. Scummy might win. He came this close to actually being able to use his crimes to legally extort money from the county. And what would that have meant for the future? If the county had been forced to hand over a fistful of money to Mr. Scummy what are the chances that they would turn away another employee who was discovered to be in a position to get information on a victim from their past?

But it didn't come to that. My friend won his case and in doing so scored a victory for both the county and women all over this country. I'm incredibly proud of him and, as a woman, not just a little grateful to him. Now he's going to represent the county in their quest to sue Mr. Scummy for all their legal expenses and personally I hope they take him for all he's worth.

But there's an important lesson to be learned from all this. The reality is that if Mr. Scummy doesn't have to pay the county's legal expenses he really won't have had to pay ANY price for his crime. The very fact that he brought this last case to court shows that he's not repentant. I can't even imagine why anyone would have granted this man an expungement (my friend practices city and civil law and wasn't involved in Mr. Scummy's criminal case). If I had to take a guess one of the reasons he got off so easy is because while it is absolutely illegal to bug someone's house, the law in regards to the video tapes (HE SENT 8 OF THEM) is murky at best. If you allow pictures or videos to be taken of you those pictures and videos belong to whoever took them, not you (assuming you don't have some kind of contract drawn up beforehand). There is a website called Ex-Girlfriend Pictures that is set up specifically for men who want to post naked pictures and videos of their ex-girlfriend for the sake of revenge. There's nothing illegal about that...it's creepy, awful and more than a little pathetic but it's not illegal. I'm hoping that none of you are involved with men who would ever try to exploit you like that regardless of how your relationship turns out. I honestly believe that most men aren't that pathetically insecure (let's face it, if you have to distribute naked pictures of your ex in order to feel like a man you're not much of a man at all and are probably compensating for something...small). But while men who would go to such lengths for revenge are probably in the extreme minority, men who would casually share a naked picture of an ex with his buddies are probably a little easier to find. And if you're into sexting (naked pictures sent through your cell phone) keep in mind that if your boyfriend ever loses his cell or even if one of his friends picks it up while he's in the next room and starts scanning pictures your private moments won't be private anymore.

I'm not saying that you can't ever take sexy pictures for your man. It's a form of sexual play that frequently occurs between people who are married or in a serious relationship. But think twice before you do it for someone you are only casually involved with and I strongly recommend you always keep your face out of the photos no matter what the nature of your relationship is.

You need to protect yourself because the sad truth is that the law won't.

Kyra Davis
Bestselling Author of:
The Sophie Katz Murder Mystery Series,
and
SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING
Order LUST, LOATHING AND A LITTLE LIP GLOSS on Amazon or Barnesandnoble.com today!

My New Favorite Nature Guide

Recently I decided to take my son to a homeschooling program called Nature Adventures. Basically a group of kids go on a guided hike together with parents in tow and then at the end of the time they come back to the "Nature Center," to do various activities like make a habitat for a lizard or what-have-you. Anyway, it seemed like the kind of thing my son would be into so we went...and I met the tour guide.

Now if I were to invent this woman as a character for one of my books the professional critics would criticize me for playing on an unbelievable stereotype (not that I concern myself too much with the professional critics anymore). But here she was, this gritty, big-boned, slightly older no-nonsense woman who you just know lives out in the woods somewhere hunting for her dinner. She's the woman in the scary movies who allows the hero to stay in her hut for the night as long as he doesn't mind her "cussin'" and an honest day's hard work.

So off we go up the trail as she looks for things to point out to the kids. We didn't get very far before she literally lit up with excitement. There, on the side of the trail was a baby rattlesnake. "Now look at this handsome specimen!" she exclaimed as all the kids gathered around...all the kids except for my kid who actually has spent some time studying snakes. "Excuse me," my son said, "but baby rattlesnakes are actually more venomous than adult rattlesnakes."

"You better believe it, young man," the tour guide said with a smile. "I know because I was bitten by one once. Put me in the hospital for two weeks straight."

At this point I'm thinking, Huh, maybe we shouldn't have a whole bunch of 5-10 year-olds gathering around it then...not to be overprotective or anything.

But it gets better. After fondly recalling her brush with death she explained that rattlesnakes will often hang out on trails trying to soak up the rays only to be run over by a fast-moving mountain bike. "So," she said, "if you see a rattle snake on the path take a stick and herd it off to the side so it doesn't get itself killed."

Okay, so now I'm thinking Did she really just tell a bunch of rowdy kids that if they see a rattlesnake they should prod it with a stick? Did that just happen? I figured I'd give her three full minutes to correct herself before I spoke up and caused a fight with the "teacher." Fortunately for me she realized her mistake in two. "Now that I'm thinking about it," she said reluctantly, "you kids probably best be leaving the rattlesnakes alone. Let your parents herd it off the path. That's a grown-up job."

I'm telling you right now, if I see a rattlesnake anywhere this particular grown-up will not be messing with it no matter where it is. If the snake gets run over by a mountain bike that will be sad but I'll live with the guilt.

After the rattlesnake managed to slide off into the bush and escape the curious eyes of several young potential victims (otherwise known as our children) we went back down to the nature center where she talked to the kids about various animals and then had them write a letter to our troops overseas so they could learn about the rattlesnake too. That was fine, she's apparently from a military family and I'm sure our soldiers would like to here from kids back home. Things didn't get really interesting again until the very end of the class when my son asked her how you could tell a girl snake from a boy snake. It really seemed like a rather benign question. As it turns out, not so much. See, Miss Save-The-Snakes has a thing for breeding reptiles. She has several at home and used my child's question to launch into a whole lecture on the subject. "For a snake you gotta stick a probe up it's slit to find out its sex but you gotta be real gentle about it...pay a professional to do it for you, don't want to probe it the wrong way and hurt it. Now Iguanas have ahemipenis which means they basically have two penises and they gotta get them both in. I'm trying to breed my iguanas now but my male can't quite figure it out and you can tell my girl iguana just wants him to get on with it already. She's trying to help him out but my boy just doesn't know how to use the equipment God gave him."

As she continued parents started trickling out of the room with their children and rushing to their cars. But the lecture went on.

"See, carnivores are real gentle with each other during sex, loving even. They rub up against each other and snuggle. But the herbivores, boy, those guys like it rough--"

At this point the only moms in the room are me and the mom of the Autistic kid who I think is only staying because she wanted to continue a conversation she and I had begun earlier. I of course can't leave because I HAVE to know how far this tour-guide is going to take this. I've already forgiven her for the rattlesnake incident. After all, her little breeding speech was easily one of the most entertaining things I have ever heard in my life. I absolutely love her.

She continued to go on for a while to tell us about the S&M-like tendencies of turtles and the romantic nature of crocodiles. I could tell that she would happily discuss the subject all day but sadly I had stuff to do so eventually I politely excused myself and promised her that we'd be coming back. And I will come back because the one thing about having a child with a mild anxiety disorder is that I don't have to worry about my boy getting up close with a poisonous snake no matter who tells him to do it. Plus I am truly interested in what's going to come out of the tour-guide's mouth next time.

The class is called Nature Adventures and it absolutely lived up to its name. It's women like that tour guide who make me happy that I'm a writer, professional critics be damned. Of course I'll never be able to look at an iguana the same way again but it's a small price to pay for the golden material my new-favorite-nature-guide is providing me with.

Kyra Davis
Bestselling Author of:
The Sophie Katz Murder Mystery Series,
and
SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING
Order LUST, LOATHING AND A LITTLE LIP GLOSS on Amazon or Barnesandnoble.com today!