Man, you guys, I’m fucking busy. That’s not a complaint. That’s something I’m shouting at you from my seat on the roller coaster as I speed past.

I love this kind of busy. I love looking back at the last six months and seeing a trail of books behind me. I’m excited as hell to write the ones ahead of me, especially The New Born Year, which is a nifty little novella that takes place at the beach house Hugh and Truman may or may not decide to buy.

Right now? Right now I’m wrapping up revisions on the Maizy book (hopefully; time and beta readers will tell), and writing Home for the Holidays, which is by far the smuttiest of the Home books, I think. Depends on your definition of smut, I suppose. But it’s been interesting, and because of the way the Maizy book went, I’m thinking this is not exactly the capstone of the series. We’ll see another book with these guys, but probably not for at least six months. No, more. My next six months are booked.

Also, a thing happened. A story. In my head. So I wrote it, quick and dirty. And the characters demanded…more. So I’m also doing that in spare moments.

I believe there will be three books, maybe four, of varying lengths, that will make up the Lucy’s triad story, so fans of Mistress Lucy (and her paramours), stay tuned. (Obviously the other fun thing will be fans of the Scientific Method books will have an excuse to re-read and look for hints, which I’m sure you’ll find. I knew a lot about Lucy and her boys before I’d ever written Hugh’s New Dude.)

Hey, honest question, do folks picking up The Scientific Method think it’s a romance novel? Every now and then someone’s just eviscerated to get to the end and discover the lads don’t live happily ever after, when to me that’s the only way that book goes. (And Will was twenty-one! Say what you want about Hugh Reynolds–and I fucking love Hugh Reynolds–the man is the epitome of settled down. He was fucking born settled down. That wasn’t Will’s shtick.) I don’t list it as romance, ’cause it ain’t romance, but I think it shows up somewhere on Amazon as a recommended book to romance novels.

In any case, my apologies to anyone who expected a wedding at the end of that one. Give it six more books. Ish.

Right now I’m gonna go off and write the super sweet Control the Smutwriter poll winner missing scene. (What’s that? You want to control the smutwriter? Sign up for the new releases list, yo! Each month a new poll! Each month a new missing scene, chosen by you lot of ruffians!)

I should probably go to bed. Can someone write me a note to get me out of insomnia, at least until my kid is older? That’d be great.