Oh, my word!
I just got the artwork for the cover for Notturno. 
It’s mind-boggling and beautiful, but also completely not worksafe. I went ahead and posted it under the “Find It Here” section on the Blog page of my website, and since this post will hopefully be transmitted to my other blogs, I will include the link, here. Dang. It’s so gorgeous. Here’s a snippet of the book to go with it:
“Caro,” he heard a voice say behind him. He was looking at the light panel on the elevator, watching the floor buttons fire up in a chaotic, random way that reminded him of science fiction movies from the ’50s. He jerked forward to step off the elevator again but was prevented by the hand holding his arm. He felt the whisper of Donte’s breath against his ear.
“I’ve called you and called you, yet you only just now come to me. Stubborn.”
“What do you want?” asked Adin, refusing to turn.
“Only that which belongs to me.”
“And what would that be?”
“What do you think, Adin? Of course I want my journal back. And yet…I wonder if you recall how completely you gave yourself to me.” Donte’s sigh lifted the hair on Adin’s nape. “Perhaps I would like that back as well.”
Adin watched the blinking elevator lights and concentrated on thinking clearly. He kept his voice even. “Does this kind of thing work for you?”
“What kind of thing?” Donte stiffened.
“This whole, I am Donte.” Adin affected the accent, giving it a little more Bela Lugosi than was really, strictly necessary. “Come to me, caro, and your blood will sing in the moonlight.”
“Now, I know I have never said that.” Donte put a hand on Adin’s shoulder.
“It’s only a matter of time, I’m sure.”
“I fear it loses a little of the oompah if you are not looking at my face.”
Adin snorted. “I gathered.”
“Turn around, caro,” Donte ordered.
“Nope. When I look you in the eye, things happen inside my head that I don’t necessarily like.”
“I promise I won’t use mind tricks on you right now.” Donte tugged at him. “I am a man of my word, if nothing else.”
“I can tell when it’s happening; it’s no use anyway.” Adin turned.
“You would be foolish to assume that in the future. Just because you can tell it’s happening doesn’t mean you can stop it.”
“What is it, anyway?” asked Adin. The lights on the panel had stopped blinking maniacally, but the elevator moved at an impossibly slow speed, giving the impression they were hovering, floating in the glass-enclosed space.
“What? Oh, I don’t know, a kind of hypnosis, maybe, a push of thought that takes root in someone’s mind because they are weaker.” Donte leaned against the steel railing that surrounded them like a skeleton inside the glass car.
“I see.”
“You don’t like to think of yourself as weaker. I understand, but Adin, you cannot hope to prevail against me as you are.”
“You can’t have the journal; I bought it with proper provenance, but you may try, if you like, to dispute it in a court of law.”
“Yes, well. That presents a problem, though, doesn’t it?”
“Do you really expect me to believe the impression you have been constructing? The biting, the mind control, the Vlad the Impaler accent.”
“Vlad— I’m Italian.”
“Do you expect me to believe that you are…? I can’t even say it.” Adin raised his brows. “The undead. A creature of the night. The prince of darkness.”
Donte pursed his lips. “I believe that was Satan.”
“Yes. Well. Do you?”
Donte’s eyes met his, and he was relieved to feel only an attraction, not a confused jumble of painful desire and fear. “I don’t care whether you believe it. Your belief doesn’t alter the facts. The journal is mine; I drew it. I illustrated it. I lived it. It belongs to me, and I want it back.”
“You will have a hard time proving that in court.”
Donte looked out over the city skyline. “Did you ever hear the story about the brothers who were camping in the woods when a bear crashed into their campsite, enraged, and began to chase them? The first brother says, ‘I must outrun the bear,’ and the second says, ‘I don’t have to outrun the bear. I just have to outrun you.’” He shook his head. “You know I cannot take this to a court of law, caro.”
Adin looked out at the city and the darkness beyond it. “Fair warning?”
“Yes.”
“I like you a lot better without the glamour, you know? Whatever causes it.”
Donte’s teeth shone even and white as he smiled, and Adin wondered about that, Renaissance dentistry being what it must have been. Looking at Donte, he wondered about a lot of things. His most immediate question, which he framed with a smile of his own, crowded out all those other thoughts.
“So, how long do we have the elevator for?”
Donte’s bark of laughter caught them both by surprise. “Caro, you imp. This is almost as unseemly as that airplane bathroom. There are cameras…”
“Then in the morning we can Google ‘gay elevator sex video’ and see if we get a hit on ourselves.” Adin approached Donte, which seemed to be the last thing he expected, and touched their lips together lightly. “I find I very much like tight spaces if they have you in them.”
“This is a glass elevator,” Donte countered, kissing him back hungrily. “I think you should know that whatever you have planned needs to be accomplished before we reach the tenth floor or everyone in the lobby court will be witness to our passion and subsequent arrest for indecent exposure and lewd conduct…”
Adin snorted. “I think you might be that quick off the mark, at your age, but—”
“Invite me to your room,” whispered Donte.
Adin froze. “Ah, yes, well.” He backed up, regret in his eyes. “Sorry. I can’t do that.”
“Superstitious? I could make you do it.”
“Actually, I don’t believe you could.” This seemed as good a time as any to test it. If Donte could get Adin to do anything he wanted, then the game was over before it began anyway. He felt a tremendous wave of emotion wash over him, deep fear, which crawled over his spine like a vine. It was an interesting sensation, but because he expected it, he found he could remain distant from it, acknowledging it and exploring it without letting it touch him. Adin searched the fear, probing it like a sore tooth. At its core, he felt a desire to reach out to Donte for protection.
Donte watched him curiously.
“Hey, nice,” said Adin. “If you could make people think they’d eaten you’d be a remarkable diet aid.”
“I am the very apex of the food chain on this planet, Adin. Try to have a little respect.” Donte’s mouth quirked, the beginnings of a smile forming on his luscious lips.
“Nevertheless, it isn’t going to work on me now that I can feel it coming.” Adin smoothed a hand over Donte’s jacket and tie. Adin’s own tie, which Donte took from him on the airplane. “The color suits you,” he remarked with asperity. “Trophy tie?”
“You spent on my tie, Adin. I’m having it cleaned.”
“Ah.” There didn’t seem to be much more to say. Adin looked back at the numbers.
“Well. This is awkward,” said Donte.
“Give me a minute. I’m warming up to asking you out for dinner.”
“Really?”
Adin looked up at Donte, “Yes.” Donte’s perfect mouth formed in a small O of surprise.
“If I go with you, does that qualify as takeout for me, I wonder.”
Adin laughed again.
“You seem remarkably calm in the face of what could a very short, very frightening night on the town, do you realize this?”
“Yes, I realize. You could probably kill me, then rent my room, then get your manuscript back. But you haven’t, yet. Instead you’ve turned on your enormous personal charm and turned off your mojo, so I have to figure I stand a chance, at least, to greet the dawn alive.”
“You think my personal charm is enormous, do you, Adin?” asked Donte, leaning in.
“As if you didn’t know you are every month in my Undead Playmate Calendar.”
“I like you, Adin,” said Donte warmly, and the elevator moved again.
Hi everybody and happy Sunday. As another week opens its jaws to swallow us whole (I hate Mondays) I wanted to update you on a few things. 
I mentioned in a previous post here, and on my LiveJournal that I’m having a contest to find the surname of Yamane’s father from the book Drawn Together. I admit that this is unorthodox as the book has been written. I really didn’t need to know the surname of Yamane’s American father because he never married Yamane’s mother. But when fans wrote to ask because it was mentioned, I thought it might be fun to give him a name of some sort, preferably one that fits his knickerbocker ancestry and present state of wealth. Something that says I care more about money than my offspring. ;-) 
It’s always a little intimidating putting out a new book, and in fact, I don’t think I’ll ever be completely sanguine about my books when they’re released. I worry whether people will like them, whether they’ll get what I’m trying to say. I worry that I’ve gotten all the little details right. 
In the book Drawn Together, there was an Easter egg. That’s right, a super special secret thing that only I knew about that I turned into a contest for the inquisitive reader who would be the first person to write and ask me about it. It’s all about watching Dr. Who for me, and if anyone saw the Blink episode, my very favorite episode of Dr. Who so far, the one with the super-creepy stone angels that… well I digress.
Aaaaaargh. A word about filesharing. Sorry to have to say this. Really. Sorrier than you can know.
I am Irish. No doubt about it. Not by inclination alone, I hunted down my birth parents and lo and behold… Irish. Which explains A LOT. Not that it needed explaining exactly. 
Thanks to the generosity of Jeanne Barrack, author of the (awesome) MLR Press Novel