Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Introducing Bad Bettie!


Bad Bettie
Series: Sugartown Blues ~ Book OneRelease Date: July 2, 2008
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Genre: Vintage Romance
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In 1948 Los Angeles, Detective Mike O'Neal is a handsome cop whose world is changed forever after his squad raids Sugartown, a happening nightclub just off the beaten path. During the bust he watches helplessly as sultry blues singer Bettie Bleue is cut down by a stray bullet. After rushing her to the hospital, he can't bring himself to leave her bedside. When she awakens, he decides to never leave her side at all.

But wooing Bad Bettie has its complications. She's a bit flashy and hard to figure out for a straight arrow like the detective. Her sexy job and curvy build provoke beefs with the sort of men who don't take no for an answer. And having most of society against their love ain't a picnic, either.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Get TWO Books for the Price of ONE!

Buy any of Layne’s books from the following publishers: Liquid Silver Books, Loose Id, Total-E-Bound, or The Wild Rose Press, and receive Layne’s New Concepts Publishing titles for free! Here’s how it works:

Go to Layne’s 2 for 1 Books page page, choose the title you want, and follow the buy link to the publisher’s website. Once you receive your title, send an email to layne.blacque@yahoo.com with your name and receipt, Layne will personally send you the New Concepts Publishing title of your choice!

*Please note - if you purchased one of these titles in the past from one of the publisher’s above, that’s fine. But you must forward proof of purchase to receive your free NCP title.
TWO books for the Price of ONE!

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Sounds Like Heaven

I tossed and turned much of the night away before picking up the remote control. Lo and behold, Xanadu was on, and my troubles drained away. I had no idea how stressed out I'd been until my body became Jello as I grooved to the soothing sounds of Olivia Newton-John. She's like an anesthetic, but strangely, she's also imbued with energy-boosting qualities. Listening to her has always put me in a happy, shiny mood.

Come now. Don't be afraid. Groove with me.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Fairwell Miss Alli, I Never Knew Thee

You know, I've been so busy being demonized by New Concepts for daring to ask a question that I forgot to blog about one of the biggest disappointments in my tube-loving life. Television Without Pity's Miss Alli, she of the quick smackdown and "ban hand" has resigned after nearly seven years of loyal service. I'm disappointed to see her go, but in the wake of Bravo's buyout and the absence of the three head TWoPers, Wing Chun, Sars, and Glark, I can't say I'm surprised. Miss Alli's reign in the Reality Show category may be over, but she's already legendary on boards that proclaim TWoP's suckage.

My only regret is that she never banned me. Hell, I never even received a warning during my four years of membership. But... that might be my fault. I spend the bulk of my time in the Dramas, Sci-Fi, and Soap Opera categories where I've rarely seen even the bravest mods. Those sections= safe havens.

Wing, put the Fametracker forums back up!

And Laval? Whoever you are, you frighten me. And I think I love you.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Email: About Your Problem

I received this email today from "M" and read it with mixed emotions. In replying to the sender, I requested permission to post their message. I’m choosing to answer publicly because it might give people insight into how some writers’ think. Or, insight into how I think. Or insight into how I didn’t think…

My reply follows the message.



I feel for your plight in this but shouldnt you have known better after what happened at OMP? If you had done a basic search you would have seen, that NCP has had problems for a long time now. Don’t get me wrong, because I like you books and have read several of the stories you put out, but, I wondered about your choices of picking publishers. Some are good like Liquid Silver and Loose Id. But the other ones??? I really shook my head when you all scattered last year but was happy to see my favorite authors find new homes for their books. Good luck with this mess, and I really hope you land on your feet,again.

No offense meant.
- A Reader

By the way, the email is in response to this post at the SIA blog.


A Reader: No offense meant.

Layne: None taken. In fact, I appreciate your message and receive it with the goodwill I believe was intended. Thank you for your concern and for following me the last few years.

A Reader: I feel for your plight in this but shouldnt you have known better after what happened at OMP? If you had done a basic search you would have seen, that NCP has had problems for a long time now.

Layne: You got me. I did preliminary research and discovered some authors had a hard time with NCP. But I didn’t let that bother me because, to be frank, I’ve never been with a publisher who ranked high on everyone’s list. If I had to do it over again, I might have sent feelers to authors who have a history with New Concepts. I know a few in passing, but I didn’t feel comfortable contacting folks I’d not corresponded with in years to get info. My shyness/reticence in this matter has come back to bite me in my oversized backside. From now on, I will always ask. Always.

A Reader: Don’t get me wrong, because I like you books and have read several of the stories you put out, but, I wondered about your choices of picking publishers. Some are good like Liquid Silver and Loose Id.

Layne: In all honesty, I never imagined I’d leave my first publishing home. I wasn’t aware of a lot of things going on, and for the most part, I was happy. But after I chose to leave OMP, I was disheartened by much of the drama and became depressed. A friend pushed me to submit to Loose Id. I didn’t hold my breath. But then the contract came, and I realized I still had a few stories left to tell. And yes, Loose Id is a good place to publish. Professional. Timely responses. Edits. Honest and fair assessment of manuscripts. Open discussion without fear of reprisal.

I also have respect for Liquid Silver Books. When they bought Breaking Becky, the editor told me the story would be published in four months. BB released almost four months to the day I signed the contract. LSB are open to discussion, professional, and I never feared reprisals even when I disagreed about their opinions re: one of my stories.

Another thing I’ll say about these two publishers: Both declined the same manuscript nearly a year apart. Well, both required revisions and edits on the same manuscript, and each gave succinct, storyline-based reasons as to why the story could not be published in its current form. I appreciated their critiques immensely, and though I’ve not yet moved to update the story in question, I walked away with the feeling that I had dealt with people who know their stuff.

So while I’m loathe to give “big-ups” to publishers given my varied history, I’ll say that I doubt writers of erotic romance could go wrong in submitting to Loose Id and Liquid Silver Books.

Also, though I’m not with them anymore, Phaze is a place to look at. I once had a long correspondence with editor-in-chief, Kat Lively, and she’s a great lady and knows her business. Gracious. Kind. Understanding. Professional.


A Reader: But the other ones???

Layne: I (and my writing buddy Taige Crenshaw) chose Total-E-Bound because we wanted to sell a series that the majors had rejected due to a fear the story might offend. Sin (and its brothers) are works of fiction, but I was unwilling to revise or edit out the “troubling” spots, even if it meant losing a chance at snagging a contract many erotic romance writers pine for. Besides, I’d just realized I wouldn’t be writing much more erotic romance…

…Because I discovered The Wild Rose Press. The roster is huge with many authors returning often. I liked that they have so many lines and departments. And since I’d been impersonating an erotic romance writer (sometimes well, sometimes not) I was intrigued about having the option of not sweating over sex scenes.

So far, I’ve worked with three editors at The Wild Rose Press. Each has been knowledgeable. Friendly. Professional. Prompt. Courteous. Helpful. This is not an endorsement. This is my experience.

My experience with New Concepts was strange, to say the least. I received an acceptance letter and contracts for two shorts I submitted. The editor-in-chief liked that I submitted two genres and invited me to submit more. I got excited and queried but heard nothing back about them—though they were interested in the fantasy series I’d placed elsewhere. After that, I sent in my paperwork And waited. A couple of months later, I sent emails inquiring about an editor. Anything. No response.

During that time, I was tired all the time. Could barely pull myself out of bed most days. Soon I was in and out of the doctor’s office, trying to determine the cause. It took awhile to get a diagnosis, but I was thrilled to learn I wasn’t dying. After that, I began to take stock. I had a lot of contracts out there, and I wanted to get everything off my plate so that I could rest. Since the NCP staff had yet to move on my titles, I asked NCP about options in releasing my contracts—I even considered buying them back, something I swore I’d never do—but then the threats came, and I wasn’t interested in playing anymore. There was no malice on my part before then. There is none now. I just don’t appreciate threats or being spoken to with an attitude my own mother never took with me.

And after being called a “…pre-madona [sic]” it occurred to me that I might be in danger, but by that point, I was too angry to care. If asking questions, standing up for my work, and fighting back when insulted makes me a problem, I’ll gladly own it. I’ll continue to do all these things because when a publisher contracts my work, it is not a favor to me. Publishers contract stories they think will sell. That’s the way it works. While I really like a couple of my publishers, I don’t have any friends among them. That means I have to go to bat for myself. And I don’t mind doing it.

A Reader: I really shook my head when you all scattered last year but was happy to see my favorite authors find new homes for their books. Good luck with this mess, and I really hope you land on your feet,again.

Layne: Thanks so much. I truly appreciate it. Thanks for writing and reading.

Monday, February 4, 2008

'DAYS' Haze


I peeked over the covers long enough yesterday to send email and check my weekend forums for soap scoop (conspiracies, publishing talk, and crafts forums reign during the week.)

Many daytime fans have followed the WGA strike as if it were a soap, anxiously watching the days tick by as scab scripts aired. If I weren't damn near in traction, I would have jumped for joy after reading that the strike may be over soon (they ain't rolling over, and good for them!) and that all would be well again with my TiVo-ed wishes and Youtubed dreams.

But then I read something shocking: the powers behind Days of Our Lives, NBC's last great soap, fired roughly 3/4 of its writing staff, including head writer, Hogan Sheffer. Former associate head writer, Tom Casiello, blogged about the situation.

My first thought was DAYS is done. NBC seems to want out of the expensive soap-making business and will probably fill the airtime with gameshows or reality fare. The industry has watched viewership erode steadily since the late 80s, and some believe the capper was 1995's OJ Simpson trial which preempted daytime serials for months. When soaps finally returned to air, many viewers had already moved on.

1995 was the year DAYS and I first parted ways. After Marlena Evans Brady Black literally turned into the devil, I ran away from my television. I checked back in a few years later just in time to see Marlena "murder" Salem's matriarch, Mrs. Alice Horton...with donuts. Donuts, people! I've watched the show rarely since that time.

Still, the news of the dramatic staff cuts is saddening.

Dena Higley--recently ousted from One Life to Live after wowing viewers with storylines like Rape O' Todd, Spencer Knows Every-fricking-thing, and Sonfucker aka Kelly Does Duke, among others--returned to DAYS, her first home, and is now said to be taking over as head writer. I wish Dena much success (especially since she's off MY main soap) and I sincerely hope my prediction of DAYS' demise will not materialize.

But...I've already seen spoilers floating around. Spoilers--hopefully fake--that indicate the male half of one of my all-time fave supercouples could find himself tied to a bed. A crazy woman is leering over him and demanding hot, hot loving...and I can't complete that sentence. It's so silly, but, I can't dismiss the spoiler because, well, this writer once described a character's death as "fun."

So yeah, I wish Dena and DAYS well. I'm no longer a viewer, but that doesn't mean I won't mist up if and when it disappears from the screen. I'll always carry Bo and Hope, Patch and Kayla, and Jack and Jennifer in my heart.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

I Feel Cleaner

Seems I'm on a cleansing kick lately, and it's expressing itself in various ways. I'm cleaning off my plate in 2008 (hey, that rhymes!) because I've been under the weather and I need to rest. Can't say I'm surprised because 2007 was a busy time for me. I got jacked. Threatened. Rejected. Accepted. Befriended. Rescinded. But it all made for good practice.

My latest editor emailed me with a wonderful compliment, and it reminded me of my need to be cleaner in every aspect. ". . . I also wanted to say I'm looking forward to working with you, especially since you had one of the cleanest mss. I've ever read."

I won't lie. My first inclination was . . . suspicion. After I left my first ebook home and went shopping for places to rent, I was chastised for all manner of bad form. In fact, in 2007 alone, I've experienced all these:

- My first editor took away my semicolons and en-dashes
- My second editor took away my ellipses
- My third editor took away my overuse of feel/felt (and my ability to trust)
- My fourth editor took away my goodwill
- My fifth editor took away my habit (or is attempting to, ahem) of beginning sentences with words ending with -ing
- A publisher that rejected me warned against my over-reliance on a body part to describe changes in emotion
- A reviewer took away my need to use euphemisms for sex-type-things

I took away from these experiences a willingness to learn, grow, and a determination to stop making up words when I feel it appropriate. (Note to Aliyah: No more lasering for you. Sorry, babe. I know. You love pistoning genitalia. Me, too. But I'm not allowed to do it anymore. No. Not ever.)

I notice that writers very rarely talk about this sort of thing. We're generally more than happy to share our good news, though, and forget that rejection ever happens. One of my writer friends even told me that I'm "weird" in that way because rejection is embarrassing. I shrugged. "For you maybe. But if we were all perfect every time, why the hell would we need editors? Shit, if I could slam out the perfect, destined-to-be-a-bestseller-story, I'd self-publish and cut out the middle man. Do you really think I'd waste my time submitting if I had the ability to craft the perfect were-shapeshifter-m/f/m-BDSM-urban-paranormal-erotica novel/with-an HEA?"

I think not. No sir.

More about cleansing: I've sold three manuscripts in past six weeks, but none are erotic romance. A very smart woman told me to write what I love, and when I began to do that, everything began to fall into place. I'm less anxious--also less angry--and finally able to keep to a set writing schedule. I've one last erotic romance floating around out there, and I only submitted it after an editor's request. No matter what the publisher decides about its future, I know I'm done with that for awhile.

The same writer who told me rejection is embarrassing also inferred that my stories worked better in the living room than the bedroom. More of a mindfuck than a, uhm, fuck. I'm finally willing to admit that she's right. And that's where my embarrassment finally displays itself. I'd struggled so long and so hard against my own nature and received little satisfaction in return. I won't do that anymore. A mindfuck indeed. And I'd been doing it to myself the whole time.

Saturday, January 5, 2008

The End of An Error

The above is what I said to my friend when she told me she was getting married. It was a slip of the tongue for sure, but we both thought it was hysterically funny. But after we stopped laughing, we cried a bit, realizing that we needed endings in order to foster new beginnings.

I've known my friend Jen for seven years. I picked her, as is my way, because disaster usually strikes those who choose me. We worked in a cube-like environment, passing each other as I clocked out and she clocked in. She wore black every day. Every. Single. Day. Except for her whimsical pink handbags that might have been at home in a Barbie Dream House. I picked her to talk to because she looked exactly like the type of person I shouldn't like. In addition to her black gear, there was also her shaved head, pale skin and southern accent. She was also sullen and withdrawn.

But she was also bright--painfully so. She knew everything about everything, and during the odd moments she'd open up to impart her knowledge, something magical took flight around those dingy cubicles. A Jill of All Trades, but Mistress of None, I set about picking her noggin, because while I'm not great at other aspects of living, I fervently exercise my right to know.

So, we flirted in a completely girly, heterosexual manner after working overtime one evening. We auditioned for our roles as new best friends at a bar. After she admitted she'd married her gay husband to help him attain citizenship (yep, that still works!) and told me one of her great-aunts looks like Robert Guillame sans pigment, it was sooo on. I had nothing as worthy to contribute, but she did seem enamored by the trivial bits of news I'd picked up from reading a dozen or so free papers that day.

She passed me books between shift changes. They had titles like Cunt, Slut and Apocalypse Culture. I let her borrow movies like The Last Kiss Goodnight, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back and Sleeping With the Enemy. Four months later, after she no longer needed to live with her husband, she moved into the empty bedroom in my house.

The first thing I noticed upon cohabitation is that we handled stress differently. She'd become completely still, stop eating and go to sleep at every opportunity. I tend to get loud, eat anything not nailed down, and not sleep at all. I frightened her. She frightened me more.

But there was something....

Sometimes we'd sit for hours and discuss feelings that ranged from anger to apathy. We talked about everything and nothingness. I got her hooked on One Life to Live and Psych. She led me into the world of House and Two Guys and A Girl. During repeats of OZ and episodes of Law and Order: SVU, I listened patiently as she extolled the virtues of Christopher Meloni's neck. She politely humored my rants about my loving hatred of Peter Krause on Six Feet Under. We were magic.

And then, she moved away.

I loved her. I hated her. How could she do this? I'd made the choice, damn it, and this is how I was repaid? We trusted each other with some of our most hostile, vile thoughts...and distrusted each other because of those same thoughts. We were antagonists and were perfect together in that we were both too lazy to do anything to get the jousting started.

She said she'd never marry for love. But on my birthday, I learned that she would marry--and soon. She no longer wished to fight love anymore because knowing me had shown her how important it is!

Me? The woman who taught her how to hug (forcing them on her as I screamed "Black love!"), invading her cold, unwilling space until she finally gave in and now is the best hugger ever? Me, the one who started a row in the kitchen, one so startling that we both burst into tears? That fight sent her into her room, for she was ready to pack. But me, being me, explained that we could hate each other today and it would be all right tomorrow. Honest. If you agree to like me tomorrow morning, I agree to like you right on back. Though I doubt she believed me at first, she agreed. We lived to get pissed another day. And it was...nice.

That's when I realized this person who seemed so alien to me, someone I'd chosen because we weren't supposed to have anything in common, was my sister. Sisters, other mothers, that kinda shit. We began to hate each other openly and earnestly, then, because love--even platonic, sisterly love--hadn't been on the agenda for either of us.

So when she moved away, I thought we'd finally both escaped. We cried and hugged and snotted curbside until she climbed into her friend's SUV and said farewell. I thought I was free. Neither of us is known for the ability to keep in touch.

But Jen does keep in touch. She calls and emails and sends me weird videos. She dealt with two housemates that make my frequent bursts of insanity seem sweet. She got healthier, and stronger, and learned to love herself. And now she's in love with a nice man. I've chatted with him, and loved his laugh--deep from his gut, just like mine. He's smart. He's short. He's loud. Her words. But he makes her happy.

And since I'm not a kid anymore, and can find no rational reason not to be, I'm happy, too. Seems we're both in similar places. Neither of us is trying to outrun our demons anymore. We've both slowed down quite a bit.

Anyway, she swears nothing will change. That's bullshit. Everything will change, and it should. It's been a year, and I'm still not over looking to my right and her not being there (imagine two people sitting in a room for 12 hours and not speaking because both are on their laptops--sending IMs or emails...) She says the same thing about me all the time. Growing up is hard, and we resisted it as long as we could. I'm proud of her progress and she's proud of mine. And now that we both understand that we're lifers in this strange sibling-like relationship we've created, I think we both finally are free. And we each take baby steps to normalcy because of it.