Preview of Next Week! It’s a Busy One & a Tribute to Mr. Spock…LLAP

images-2Next week marks the last official week of The Wrong Man blog tour.  There are 4 stops Monday and wait for it… 7 on Wednesday! Wow.  I will post live links as we get closer.  There are 2 stops with exclusive excerpts, new interviews, reviews and yes… a chance to win a $25 Gift Card and an ebook copy of The Wrong Man.

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2-Mar 3 Chicks After Dark
2-Mar Rainbow Gold Reviews
2-Mar Multitasking Mommas
2-Mar Love Bytes
4-Mar Molly Lolly
4-Mar Joyfully Jay
4-Mar Butterfly-O-Meter
4-Mar Wake Up Your Wild Side
4-Mar Velvet Panic
4-Mar As The Pages Turn
4-Mar Dawn’s Reading Nook

There’s more!  I’m participating in a Free Read with some fabulous authors in a Round Robin.  I’m late to the party but I’m jumping in Monday with my part of Different Tracks.   Parts 1-16 can be found here at Charlie Cochet’s blog.  Come back Monday for my portion, part 17.


I don’t delve too much into my personal in general, but I have something kinda fun to share. My husband is a funny guy. As in the extraordinarily clever guy you gravitate to at a party because hey…it’s fun to laugh. And people who are gifted at the self-deprecating kind encourage you to stop taking yourself so seriously and just enjoy the journey. I married that guy.

He’s also a geek. The man loves Star Wars, Star Trek and can tell you more about Federation spaceships than you’ll ever hope to know. (Unless you’re just like him, that is). Needless to say, he was devastated by Leonard Nimoy’s passing yesterday. Mr. Spock represented a piece of childhood that even a guy in his 50s was eager to hold on to for as long as possible. So he wrote a little remembrance to help ease the ache of lost innocence. This is nothing like my books. It isn’t a love story. It’s a thank you to a childhood hero. Enjoy:   **Posted earlier on FB 🙂


Upon Leonard’s passing…

Captain’s log, Star date: June 1972, 6:45pm
The sweat stung my eyes and the air burned my lungs. The atmosphere of this planet was thick with sulfur and particulate matter. We were careful to take what rest we could before moving on. This planet’s culture, still in it’s early development, had yet to move beyond internal combustion engines for their transportation. What a strange place to find the very cache of dylithium crystals we so desperately needed to repair our ship’s engine core and get the hell back to the Neutral Zone. Why had we ventured beyond it’s borders? That’s classified.

The problem was that we were at least one full neighborhood block east of our rendezvous point. Beaming out wasn’t an option; I had ordered the Enterprise well out of communicator range to keep my people safe. The route we had so carefully planned, the alley between Parish Place and Orchard Street, was now thick with Klingon patrols. We’d have to take the long way around the block, carefully avoiding the forbidden zone that was Mr. Johnson lawn; all with nearly spent phasors and a tri-corder in desperate need of new “D” batteries.

We hit the ground. A land-based Klingon patrol cruiser swept down the street spewing poison gas out behind it. Younger Klingon soldiers who traveled facing backwards kept watch for any movement.
“Sir, it is logical to assume they know we are among them. They seem to be taking measures to insure those crystals do not leave this planet’s surface.” said my number one.

Yes, the cunning bastards; they’d clearly seen through our disguise. All the other primitives were convinced we were 10 year old school boys playing some odd form of cowboys and Indians.

“They must have found the bodies of the troop we dispatched earlier near Mr. Wilcoxson’s house.” I said. We lost two of our away team in that fight. Both young security officers who had foolishly volunteered to beam down with Paul, I mean, Spock and I. Didn’t they know this was a suicide mission?!? They met their fate quickly; their red tunics soaked in redder blood after the Klingon ambush. I realized then, I didn’t even know their names and would never see them again. What kind of Captain was I! That question would have to wait.

We crouched behind a Pinto to plan our next steps. Suddenly, without warning, we were surrounded. A good captain knows when living to fight another day is the best option, so we surrender our phasors and were led to their green blooded leader.

In perfect, almost Shakespearian English, the grand magistrate of this god forsaken planet explains how our presence will void the already shaky treaty between Star Fleet and the Klingon Empire. Our dead bodies would be flogged in the public square as proof of Federation treachery. We are doomed.
As if thinking with the same mind, we spring into action. Coming from a planet of similar gravity, Spock has the strength to fight hand to hand. I have to rely on my guile and lighting reflects to subdue 4 or 5 Klingons, reclaim our equipment and make for Parish Place in a dead run. Just as we round the corner onto Parkside street, Spock’s communicator picks up the signal from his mother, his HUMAN Mother, telling him to come in for dinner. Almost simultaneously, I pick up the rendezvous signal cleverly disguised as the sounds of my father’s shrill whistle from the front porch of my house. That’s it. The Enterprise has returned and there’s no choice now but to risk cutting corners. I turn directly towards Mr. Johnson’s forbidden zone and accelerate.

“Captain, we can’t….” but I cut him off before he ends his sentence. “To hell with the regulations, the fate of the entire Federation is at stake”. My communicator crackles to life, “Enterprise, this is Kirk. Sulu get us out of here! Rendezvous code 5-2-0!”.

Klingon disruptor fire echoed all around us, but it was too late. The transporter beam had us in its safe grasp. Back on board the Enterprise, Spock makes for engineering, conveniently located in his home’s back yard. I turn for Star Fleet command and the meat loaf being served there. As we part, final details are worked out. “Set course for the neutral zone, warp 5”. “Aye, aye Captain”. “Can Joey be Scotty tomorrow?”. “I’ll ask. See you tomorrow!”

Another mission accomplished and the universe safe…..for now.

with infinite gratitude to Leonard Nimoy and the rest of the crew. Imagination is more powerful then a fleet of star ships.

Enjoy your weekend!  I’ll meet you back here Monday!

Happy Reading!  Lane xo

Published by lanehayes

I'm a M/M author, an avid reader, and chocolate and tea lover too!

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