A Romcom with Zombies?

I was a little nervous when I saw that Olivia Dade's next romance was called Zom Rom Com. Although an occasional book pulls it off, zombies are not easy to make attractive.

Fortunately, the zombies are a challenge that the heroine and hero face together. Soon after other supernatural types reveal themselves, an experiment in creating supersoldiers goes terribly wrong, creating mindless, hungering creatures with a contagious bite. Each for their own reason, our heroine and hero are living in the second containment circle when the zombies escape. They quickly find they have to work together to survive. 

All of Dade's usual skills are here: well-rounded and attractive characters, humorous moments, a believable journey for the heroine and hero to learn more about each other and deepen attraction into love, good dialogue, and excellent pacing. She's put the love scenes in focus and the violence a little hazy, which I appreciated. And she added a new venture into world-building, and did well with it. The set-up of the various supernatural beings made enough sense to keep me in the story, and she's thought about the consequences of the changes she's made to the world. I could believe in how the world worked. 

I was immediately engaged with the story, and I enjoyed it all the way through. There were a couple surprises that I won't spoil here. The twists kept the story fresh. The main characters have a happy ending, and the world clearly has more stories to tell. I will be eager to see the next book! 

I received an early copy of the book in return for my offer to write honestly about it in a timely fashion. I was happy to have it! I read all of Olivia Dade's books, and having a deadline helped me emerge and write something. So, thank you, Olivia Dade, for the book, for all the stories, and for bringing me out to blog. 

My Latest Encounter with the Cat Distribution System

I’d decided I didn’t want to replace our cats. Pumpkin had died and Pike was getting old. We could see stiffness in his morning stretches, and at night, he became confused and cried. 

So when a white, scrappy, and feral cat began parading two kittens through our back yard, I resisted.

I was working! That backyard view was to make my professional hours more productive!

Sometimes, I would go as far as chasing away the cats. 

The one who lingered the most was a tortoiseshell fluffball. I’d go out and open the back gate, and approach her, and she would run. She always took the same path—down the side yard to the closed gate, then swirling and zipping back past me to the far corner, then to the open gate and out into the alley. 

Then I’d close the gate and go back to work.

Doug consented to the idea of no more cats, and tried to help by naming the black boy cat Nightmare. That kitten was quite a charmer. He’d come right up to us and stretch the top of his head toward our hands, which Doug would narrate as, “You can pet my head if ya wanna.” He’d rub against our legs and purr. 

Doug’s parents came to visit, and they started calling the white, feral cat Momma Cat. Momma Cat would nudge Nightmare toward us, then lurk in the alley to watch. It was like she was interviewing us to see if we would be good parents. 

The final straw came one day as Doug and I were watching through the window. The two kittens, now adolescents, were lounging across the yard, Nightmare relaxed and elegant and the fluffball with resting tortie face. When Momma Cat came in, the girl kitten raised her tail, obviously happy, and approached to nurse. Momma Cat looked right at us, and batted her away. “She’s your responsibility now,” she told us.

So ten years ago, I lost a battle of will with the cat distribution system. We started feeding the kittens. The black kitten was far too sweet to keep calling Nightmare, so we renamed him Banichi. With her swirls of grey, tan, and orange, we named the girl Caramel. 

Doug died almost two years ago. Caramel and Banichi have been immense, ongoing comforts to me.  I really should have known all along: cats are more important than work.

 

A Long Gap

Hello, world. 

I see my last post was in late 2021. I looked at that date, and suddenly I forgave myself for not writing. The harbingers of the pandemic had whispered through the airports and supermarkets for two years. Time had gone weird. No wonder I suddenly found myself too distracted and depleted to find a first sentence inspiring. 

Then, in 2023, Doug, my husband of 37 years, died. We were like two trees grown together, entangled roots and branches, so that when one fell, the other was left unbalanced, showing gaps, and listing. At a tree's pace, I extended my roots and spread my branches into some of the gaps. My future, which whited out as all the visions I had of us doing things together erased themselves, is beginning to have shapes and colors again. 

I've received an outpouring of support I never expected over these past years. The best learnings of incredibly difficult times are discovering that people will help. Doug's family, my closest co-mourners, never blinked at continuing to include me. I discovered safety nets I didn't know existed until I needed them. I'm very appreciative, and I wish for all other people to find the same support when they need it. 

So, here I am. I'm once again helping people write better books. I'm once again having story ideas. And I'm once again posting some thoughts to the Internet. 

I wish you well.