Welcome to Julia Talbot's blog!

Welcome, everyone! Here's where I blather about writing, life with my wife BA, and my two basset hounds! I love to hear from readers, so comment here or email me!

Thursday, July 30, 2015

New Full Moon Dating!

Does the butt shaking happy dance!

Full Moon Dating: Gage and Hamish is out! Yay!

My amazing cover from Kris Norris. Uhn.

Gage and Hamish are a novelette in a series and probably ought to be read that way. I'm getting into the FMD mythology pretty hard these days.

Here's the blurby

Cat shifter Gage is an impossible bottom. No one has ever been able to tame him, even if he wants them to. He’s willing to keep trying, though, and when he finds out about the paranormal dating site Full Moon Dating, he puts himself in their hands. He longs for someone who will take him in hand and make him like it.

Hamish is a bear shifter who plays too rough for most subs. Gage sounds like just what he needs, so when Full Moon matches them up, he’s happy to see how they get along. Can he convince Gage that he’s the one to make the man toe the line?

And here's a wee bit to get you going!

"This one is on me." Hamish flagged down the waiter. "You're sure?" He wasn't a moocher. He paid his own way. "I am." Meeting his gaze, Hamish smiled. "I won't be expecting anything, I promise." "Well, thank you, man. Let's go explore." "Sounds good." During the day downtown Boulder was all coffee shops and tourists. At night, the main drag was all twinkly lights and locals out for the evening. Joggers and craft beer enthusiasts. He grabbed his jacket, the night air cool, even in the summer time. Hamish moved close, that big body radiating heat. He approved. He had to resist a good hard snuggle. They were in public after all. Maybe there would be snuggling later. Gage liked to keep his options open. The street was bustling, and he ended up hanging close to Hamish to keep from bumping the crowds. Hamish chuckled. "I have this urge to hold your hand." "Yeah? Don't lose me, huh?" "Nope. Crowded tonight." Hamish turned off on the side street leading up to the Hotel Boulderado. "Friday night shenanigans." "Yeah. I didn't think about that when I asked you to meet me here. I'm not antisocial or anything, but that's a heck of a crowd." "It is." A group of men turned the corner, moving together in a way that screamed wolf pack. Hamish stiffened next to him. "This way, maybe?" "Uh-huh. Together." "I would never leave you to them, kitty. They have to go through me." "I'm pretty good, one on one." A pack, though? Not so much. "They're looking for trouble," Hamish murmured, and it wasn't an unfair statement. Not the way two of them turned over a trashcan mounted on a chained platform. He took Hamish's hand, a low rumble building inside him. "Oh, hell no! Look at the gays!" They'd been spotted, and just at the right fucking time. Damn it. "Fuck." He growled long, his shoulders rolling. "Just keep going. If they start something, get your kitty tail to the hotel and have the front desk call the cops. Got it?" Hamish sounded different. Feral. "Not leaving you to the wolves." "Hey, I just have to hold them off until the cops get here." He got a wild grin, and he thought maybe Hamish was on an adrenaline high. Gage pulled his phone out, dialing 9 and 1. He never had time to type in the other 1. The wolves attacked in a rush, and his instinct was to leap, take the first one that reached for him. Instead, he kept his back to Hamish's, going with safety in numbers. He heard Hamish roar, and heard flesh connect with flesh. His sound was more a scream, wild and totally terrifying. The wolves focused on Hamish, following the hunting pattern of their pack, but more than one lashed out at Gage. He fought back, snapping and snarling, his hands tipped with deadly claws. "Fuck! Get them. There's just two of them!" The head wolf had a memorable voice, a deep bass growl. "Hamish, I got your back." "I know." Hamish sounded certain. That was good. It felt like Hamish was huge, vast. Who would take on a full-sized grizzly? Even in a pack? These assholes had to be on something. He kept his back against Hamish, his eyes feeling like they were burning in his skull. He slashed out and caught one wolf under the chin, causing a howl. He heard two more go flying, Hamish roaring. Gage heard the thud as he was hit before he felt it, the pressure sending him flying. Hamish went nuts, flinging wolves everywhere, bellowing his name. He landed on his feet, his head spinning as he fought everything he couldn't see. Damn it, were there more now? It seemed as though an endless number of wolves were all over them. "Hamish!" Fuck, help! "Gage!" Hamish turned, leaving that broad back vulnerable, but tearing into the wolves trying to kill Gage. Utterly magnificent. He managed to stay upright, fighting with all he was. The sound of a siren was what finally drove the pack away from them, even though Hamish fought like a demon to keep them at bay. He slumped against a fence, sucking air, eyes rolling. "Come on, Gage." Hamish picked him up under one arm. "No waiting for the police."

Buy it here!

AMazon buy link ARE buy link

The other books, in order, are Aiden and Ben, Coy and Denver, and Evgeny and Feng.



Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Monday Monday- wait is it Tuesday?

Sure seems like Monday. Google Docs hates me. Cut my toe open yesterday. Had to frog my scarf again.

I want an eclair.

Stamps foot.

Gage and Hamish out tomorrow!

Available here for preorder.



Saturday, July 25, 2015

Vintage Jewelry Love

So I recently rediscovered a love of mine from my antique dealer days.

Vintage jewelry. I adore weird rhinestone stuff, crazy old pins and earrings, weird pop beads and bizarre cocktail rings. The weirder the better. Since I have very little room for collectibles, I'm selling most of what I buy at yard sales on Ebay. Yesterday I got to research a Miriam Haskell shell shaped stickpin. 1950s. Neat thing. People lover Miriam Haskell. She was like Tim McGraw. She didn't design her own stuff, but she sure knew how to pick a designer.

Today it was a lovely sterling silver and turquoise pendant. So neat.

I love hauling out my loupe and looking at marks, though man, my eyesight is way worse than it was it my 20s. o.O

Here's the stickpin

Such fun!



Wednesday, July 22, 2015

knitting woes

I suck at knitting.

Now, mind you, my stitches are lovely. I can follow a pattern. I know a decent number of stitches.

What I suck at is paying attention.

I try not to stop in the middle of a row. But I do. Then I get turned around. Not kidding.

Seed stitch. Knit perl knit perl. Next row. Perl knit perl knit. Right? So easy. Makes a lovely rib pattern. I frog every third row because I can't tell what a perl stitch looks like vs a knit. My wife, who can, is left handed, so she inevitably tells me to start with the wrong stitch and I inevitable lose count, even with a row counter.

I suck at gauge. My stitches are always too tight, so I have to go up a needle size.

I get a third of the way through a project and quit. I have a third of a sweater. Five one third finished scarves. One scarf I was halfway through a beaded knit and lost it in a move. That one really pissed me off because it was a) expensive yarn b) a gift for my Aunt in Law.

So, why do I knit? Well, it allows me to buy really neat yarn. It's actually relaxing at the time I'm doing it. It's something to share with my wife.

I still suck at it pretty badly



Monday, July 20, 2015

joy of the day

my big joy of the day is that Alan Jackson has a new album out today. I adore him, but even more than that, my girl loves him so much that she's bouncing and happy.

One of the very first big gifts I ever got her was tickets to an Alan Jackson concert. We were in different states and she was still, er, stuck with the evil ex, but we were BFFs already, and I wanted her to be able to go. There was a big old mess with the tickets being on the ends of two different rows, which I didn't know about, but she was so happy. Joe Nichols opened for him, and that was the first time she told me Joe could sound like anyone from George Jones to George Strait.

We've since seen some 50 or 60 concerts together, from 14 Tim McGraw shows to Texas singers no one but BA and I have heard of. We've seen George Strait 5 times. Sugarland. Luke Bryan. We even took BA's sister K to see Poison and Def Leppard. We've seen Alan together once, at the Dallas Stampede rodeo, where we had standing room only floor seats.

I still remember the very first concert I ever got her tickets for, though, and how much she loves Alan Jackson. Every time I hear him, that's what I think of.



Saturday, July 18, 2015

my favorite things about yesterday

I learned all about Finnish silver hallmarks. Not for a book, but for selling a pair of earrings on ebay. Thanks to the detailed markings I know it's .916 grade silver, it was made in Helsinki for export, the designer's name, and the company. Also they were made in 1957. So yeah, if you have a burning passion for Kalevala Koru, hit me up. I have a pair if 1957 screwback earrings in an in an unusual pattern.

My wife and I sat and talked at dinner about how we came to fandom and what fandoms were our faves. Sure, we know all this already, but I love our rambling dinner conversations. I can sit and listen to BA talk for hours about how she and Darth Velma used to go to cons in Santa Barbara together. Then I regale her with my fannish horror story about getting to Baltimore to meet an online friend only to have her flake at the last minute and screw me out of a place to stay and a hot meal on a really shitty rainy night in Maryland. Suffice to say we did not remain friends.

edits on Desert Dragons 2. Hoo. I have a new editor, and she's not read the El Ops or DD1. Ack. This series just can't stand alone at this point, and I'm struggling to add the backstory she wants me to without making the story sound weird and pedantic and repetitive. Such are the problems of tight 3rd person specific. If a character isn't thinking it, I can't put it on the page, so huge chunks of exposition don't happen.

I needed to knit something. I started a new scarf. I don't get that urge as often as BA, or as author friends like Amy Lane or Ariel Tachna, but I love a chunky yarn and a seed stitch.

Weekend, ho!


Tuesday, July 14, 2015

10 little known facts about Julia

Bad blogger. No doughnut.

The niece came to visit. She's 6.

Wow, was that exhausting. Twisted up my bad foot, too, which sucks. Still, we had a ball.

So, ten unknown things

I used to be an antique dealer. Did it for 5 years. I still do Ebay stuff under my real name.

I love to paint. I suck at it, but I love it. I make goddess dolls out of painted gourds.

I may have bassets now but I grew up with German Shepherd mixes

I eat super clean now but sometimes I dream about McDonalds. True story.

I love American Ninja Warrior. Love how they all root for one another.

I used to love the really dark comic books like Witchblade and the Darkness. I read them for free at the bookstore I worked at, so I was never too much of a comic geek, but I did get asked to go on a date to Denver comicon. Since he was married I said no.

I want a pick-up truck. We have an SUV, but dude. I want that hauling capacity.

I love to co-write with my wife BA Tortuga. When people review our books and say we sound too much alike without knowing we're married I cackle madly.

I have a cashew allergy that makes me sick as a dog. Please don't use this against me.

When I was a teenager I wanted to be a journalist. I found out I was way better at features, and then fiction.



Tuesday, July 07, 2015

romance is a wonderful genre!

I love romance books.

I love the happy ending. I love the crazy big misunderstandings. I love the amnesia, secret twin, lost heir stories. I love historicals with lots of heaving and throbbing.

I adore it all.

I'm baffled by romance writers who don't read romance.

Yep, I said it.

Never let someone make you ashamed of what you read. Never act ashamed of what you write. Glory in it. Put sprinkles and whipped cream on top of it. Screw politically correct and author ennui. Don't be a hipster about it. Love is worth reveling in, and so is the fiction it creates.

I love me genre. *sparkles*



Saturday, July 04, 2015

Putting the human face on civil rights

When my niece was just a baby, her parents moved from Pennsylvania to South Carolina. She wasn't quite 2, if I remember, and thanks to a rather small-town in PA with a rather big time habit of not renting or selling homes to people of color, D had never seen a black person until she went down south.

The first black person she met up close and personal was my Aunt L's dear friend, Jessie Mae. At the time, Jessie Mae was 80, and while old, was neither weak, small or frail. She was the grandaughter of former slaves, a field worker her whole life, who in 1987 still had no running water or electricity. She was 6'2", weighed over 220 and had a voice like a freight train whistle. She scared my baby niece to death, and her momma was all aflutter, worried that Jessie Mae would be offended.

Jessie Mae's answer was, "You let that baby alone. She'll figure it out. I gots (she always said gots) to be scary to that child, the way I look, but she'll she how much I love her."

She was right. D finally got real brave and let Jessie Mae hold her against that enormous bosom that had comforted me and my brother for as long as we could remember, and that was that. D fell asleep. Boom.

Children learn that there's nothing to fear pretty quickly as long as people are good to them.

We could all learn something from that. Instead of mongering fear, we could all try to do better by each other. Remember that I'm not a number, or a statistic, or a sinner. (Sorry folks, one more person tells me they can hate my sin and love me and I'll lose it). I'm a person. A human. So are you. We don't have to agree, but we can at least admit we should all get the same start in life. A level playing ground.



Thursday, July 02, 2015


waaay back ;)

My brother holding me as soon as I was old enough to get pics taken.

My and my bro in the snow in Las Cruces with his dog Peewee.

Happy TBT!