When you believe in the impossible, something wonderful can happen. (And okay, so sometimes something weird happens instead. Whatever.)
After reviving the fortunes of her hometown of Possum Dance, Texas – thanks in large part to an ALF wannabe named Bubba spotted roaming the local Piney Woods – Riley Dare has it made. She owns and operates her own store specializing in the weird and wonderful – Alien Autopsy videos, Bigfoot slippers, and plush Bubbas included. She's a respected member of her community. She's even become something of a local media darling. And okay, the highlight of her love life in recent days was the blind date with a guy who expected his date to be a guy. Still, life is good. If somewhat safe and predictable. And maybe a little boring. Or possibly a lot.
Enter then Bren Reynolds, a former high school nemesis who'd spent the four months of their shared senior year looking down his nose at the local hicks from the sticks, holding illicit keg parties at the mayor's house, and coming up with new and better ways to convince Riley he was a jerk. The bad news then gets worse – he's Riley's blind date for the local Bubba Festival. And not only does he not remember her, he thinks she's weird – and not particularly wonderful.
All, however, is not lost. A near-riot, a close encounter with a Conspiracy Nut, a dancing Tribble, and a few dozen cookies later, the weird proves to be more than a little wonderful.
Maddie Broome is the founder and Chief Cook and Bottle Washer of the Campaign for Pool Boys. Thanks to these hard economic times, countless pool boys have found themselves out of work and without a pool to call their own. Moved by the sight of them wandering the streets with grapes and palm fronds in hand, Maddie has decided to spearhead a campaign to unite these perfect specimens of hunky manhood... er... that is... these homeless bits of poolside humanity... with food and shelter. To that end, all proceeds from her books will go towards providing a loving home for the hunkier... er... more deserving... of America's homeless pool boys. (Buy a book -- save a pool boy!)
To insure that she acquires... er... helps... as many pool boys as possible, Maddie also writes quirk-free Romances as Jenna Storm (Lies the Heart Tells) and SciFi as Jaye North (By Sorrow Increased).
What will readers like about your book?
The book is funny and profound. And let's face it -- it's a true work of literary genius. But I think what readers will like most about my book is the warm feeling they'll get from knowing their purchase has helped get pool boys off the street and lounging around my pool. Or... well... you know... becoming productive members of society again. (Hey, someone has to peel those grapes and get a breeze going.)
Why did you self publish?
Self publishing seems more suited to a grassroots campaign like mine. And really, the sooner I get my books out and selling, the sooner I'll have hunks lounging around my pool. I mean... er... the sooner I'll be able to rescue those poor wandering pool boys.
What inspired you to write this particular story?
Pool boys. See above.
As the applause died down, Dennis spoke up from the back of the room, his gaze never shifting from his scribbling. “We’re already on the map,” he said. “One the government drew up. Only, you’ll never see it. Not if the CIA has its way. And it will.”
“Yes, well,” Steph Whoever said in a Someone Grab the Nut and Lock Him in the Basement So He Doesn’t Scare the Church Ladies tone of voice. “I’m sure that’s all very interesting. Now, if anyone else has anything they’d like to say?”
Dennis, however, wasn’t done. “They have spy satellites, you know. They’re probably watching us right now. And they know who all came to this meeting.” He looked up from his scribbling and fixed his unblinking gaze on Bren. “Not that they need to use a satellite when they have a spy right here to take down names and tell them everything they want to know.”
“Be that as it may...,” Steph said, trying to move things along and in a saner direction.
Possum Dance being Possum Dance, however, the inmates had the keys to the asylum and there was a party going on they had no intention of cutting short.
“He’s right about those satellites,” an older gentleman wearing a John Deere cap said with a knowing nod to his fellow inmates. “I hear tell they’re so powerful they can pick out the brand name off a pack of cigarettes.”
“And you know them Russians got enough hardware floating around up there that there’s no telling what all they’ve got on folks,” John Deere Guy’s buddy seated next to him and sporting a VFW cap added in. “A man can’t hardly step out his back door and do what he’s of a mind to do – if you know what I mean – without someone seeing what they hadn’t ought to be seeing. It ain’t hardly even decent.”
That not a visual Bren cared to think on, he was with Steph when she tried again to get the nuts back in the can, saying, “Okay now, if we can move along...?”
“And you know they’re listening in on everybody’s phone conversations anymore,” a young guy in a Metallica T-shirt said, not about to be left out of the fun. “And they’re snooping around too, at what all people are looking at on the Internet.”
“The Russians are doing that?” a girl with a nose ring said, her tone one of indignant surprise. “Why do they care how many times I visit my friends on Facebook?”
“It’s not the Russians,” a woman in a business suit said. “It’s our own government. They’re trying to catch perverts.”
“And spies,” Dennis added.
For sure it had to be something in the water, Bren decided. Or possibly something floating in the air. Something being emitted by an oil well maybe – and hopefully requiring long-term exposure before one’s marble count started going down.