There is a stack of papers on my desk, neatly sorted and stapled. A year and a half of submitting umpteen identical copies of government reports will give you stapling skills such as the world has never known.
I read all three of Charlaine Harris’s Southern Vampire mysteries over the weekend, and while I enjoyed them, I find that I don’t really have enough to say about them to write a proper review. If vampires and smoky Louisiana bars are your thing, read the first chapter or so and see what you think. (Laugh-out-loud moment: the heroine offers to name a stray dog Buffy, and the dog growls in indignation.)
Marsha’s signing went really well last night. The selection she read was particularly well-chosen. I discovered that several people I work with either know Marsha or have been waiting breathlessly for the second book (or both).