Sourcebooks Casablanca Romance Authors

Hey, Chumley Masticar here. Miss me? I’ve been on an extended publicity tour, if you must know. The Caribbean, West Indies, a spin around the Cape… all in the effort to spread the word about my story, In Over Her Head . Oh, yeah, I get that it’s got a guy and a girl and they fall in love and whatever, but you know? None of it would have been possible without me. I give you these examples: Who suggested Reel save Erica’s life? That would be me. And who told him how? Also me. Who did Reel send on the reconnaissance mission? He didn’t go. Oh, no. He sent ME. Who did he direct to keep Puff Daddy busy so he could clue Erica in to all they’d be facing when facing The Council? Again, me. Who had his back when ol’ Nigel got a hook in his craw about Reel turning Erica? Right again. That would be moi. And the list goes on. So I have my public. Adoring fins all over the globe have tread in line for tides for my autograph, women tossing their shell phone numbers at me, fish fry flipping like they...

Hello, everyone! You may remember me (and how could you possibly forget me, I ask you) from my previous post where I introduced Reel and Erica from Judi Fennell’s debut novel, In Over Her Head , which is soon to hit stores and is available for pre-order with all fine internet vendors. I’ve been asked (by whom shall remain confidential) to share my tips on Mer dating. Specifically male Mer dating, or as you Humans like to call them: mermen. (Psst! They prefer Mer men. And birds are now asking to be called avians , of all things. Sheesh. Just don’t call me Late For Dinner and I’m a happy swimmer.) But I digress. Below I’ve listed my Top 10 Rules for dating. Learn them, live them, love them. 1) Stick to your own species. I’m not saying race, but s-p-e-c-i-e-s. That means, if you’ve got a dorsal fin, she better have a dorsal fin. If she’s got eight tentacles, you should at least be in the ballpark with six. Same thing for a Mer with legs. Being that there aren’t that many of you, go for a ...

Hello, everyone! Chumley Masticar here again! I thought I’d pop back in for a bit since my author is In Over Her Head , heavily at work on Rod’s story edits and Angel’s story creation—not to mention getting that strange, non-waterfowl ready for the big day tomorrow. Thank the gods you Humans go for the winged type for your celebrates. I’ll tell you, those Italians and their Feast of the Seven Fishes have the Undersea World in an uproar every December. But at least in November we can rest somewhat easily—although I did hear of one instance where someone actually brought salmon to a turkey dinner. Can you imagine? How un-American! (Though the salmon was from Alaska, not somewhere out in the Wild Blue Under , so perhaps that counts? And, no, Sarah Palin was not the culprit!) Sadly, too, the salmon was not the guest... I don’t know. You all have such strange holidays. Crushed cocoa beans mixed with sugar cane that you pass out in plastic wrappers at night, in the dark, in the cold? I don...