Saturday, February 25, 2012

I'm Addicted

I love reading. I read everything. The receptionists in the doctors’ offices I patron all know me as the woman who will pick up free flyers, after magazines, after newspapers and sit away from the patients and read. And, I bring my kindle with me. (Well, I usually take the free flyers home with me.)

More than once, people have nearly stumbled over me in the aisle at B&N because I will just sit on the floor and search for the perfect book to take home with me.

My dear husband has given up on telling me that I don’t need the free real estate booklets that are found at the exit of the grocery store, or the free local ‘What’s Happening’ county papers. Hey, there is interesting stuff in there.

And, BTW, I read the register tape on the way home.

Reading is an addition I tell you. There I’ve said it. And it’s not one I’m looking to get rid of. EVER!

I thank my mother for reading to me. I thank my teachers for helping me learn to read. I thank the librarians who offered up wonderful suggestions and fueled my desire to read, and continue to do so. I thank the storytellers that brought adventures beyond my wildest imagination to my world. I hope someday someone will think of me in the same way.

With that said, I think I’ll buy the grandchildren new books today, gift a book to a follower who has been a supporter of my work and continue to write the next book.

And for anyone (over 18) who leaves a comment along with their email addie this week (Feb 25 - March 3, 2012), I'll enter you into a contest for an e-copy of Obsessed By Wildfire. If you don't feel comfortable posting your email address, send it to me at and put blog contest in the subject line. I'll announce the winner on March 4, 2012 by 6 pm EST. Good luck and please pass the info on. WINK

Review for Obsessed By Wildfire

My-oh-my, do they make things hot in Wayback or what? This isn’t my first journey to the Texas town, and you can guarantee after reading the newest story, Obsessed By Wildfire, it won’t be my last.

Due to mind-blowing chemistry and fantastic dialogue, the sex scenes positively sizzle. You’ll laugh, you’ll wriggle and squirm, and when things get dangerously hot, you’ll hover on the edge of your seat.

To read the entire review go to:

Excerpt from OBSESSED BY WILDFIRE By Autumn Jordon
(copyrighted material do not duplicate)

Her fingers curled around the leather strap in her hand. In the morning, she wanted to walk out on her front porch—the one that still needed a dozen or so floorboards replaced—look out over the hundred fifty-seven point eight acres she’d inherited from her Gran, sip her morning cup of tea and see anything but yellow wood siding. There still was no promise of rain in the forecast and a brilliant full moon hung over Wayback. Chicky could paint in the dark.

White would be good.

She kicked up small puffs of dust as she rounded the truck’s front end.

Prickly pear green would be good.

“You know, you should be more careful.”

The late-night-radio voice stopped Isobel’s right heel from stomping the Blue Bug’s step. She turned. If it wasn’t for the fact her blood pressure was already at a dangerous level, it would’ve shot there staring into the cornflower blue eyes of this stranger. He was a good six inches taller than her five foot eight, broad at the shoulders and chest, trim at the waist and hips and from what she could tell by the stretch of his jeans, his package was where he got the gumption to face off with her while she was in a hellish ass-kicking mood.

There was no doubt he was a Yankee. He wore sneakers. No Texan would wear running shoes to go dancing. And his scent wasn’t leather, hay or old horse. She lifted her chin a notch, just a little, to let him know what he was about to take on. “Who are you?”

“Warner Keyson. You?” He folded his arms across his chest. His muscles bulged from beneath the rolled back sleeves of his white dress shirt. She’d seen bigger forearms—on a few NFL players.

“Isobel Trinidad.”

“Well, Ms. Trinidad, you could’ve caused some damage or killed someone the way you barreled in here.”

“The last time I heard, Raleigh was Wayback’s chief and you’re not one of his officers. Besides everyone’s inside.”

“There could be a couple or two in the backseat of those cars. You know, enjoying the night.”

Warner Keyson’s warm caramel gaze drifted over her and Isobel’s legs buckled a degree before she roped off her reaction. Refusing to look away, she wrestled the urge to step closer and touch the cute dark lock that curled behind Mr. Keyson’s right ear. “Were you peeking in windows?”

“Nah, not peeking.” His full lips pulled up the tiniest bit.

Looking pass him, she scanned the cars. Had he been in the backseat of one of them?
Had one of the local girls already run him down and claimed him?

“So what do you have in mind with that whip?” He broke her musing.

“Whip?” She’d forgotten she still had it in her grasp, and the reason why.

Chicky. Her fire to kill the devil with a paintbrush had taken a new direction. This blaze was much more alluring, but she had a ton and half of chores to do this weekend, starting with thrashing Chicky. She couldn’t be distracted by a weekend fling, not this weekend.

“I’m going to use it on a man who doesn’t listen. So if you don’t mind—”

He chuckled. “Not at all. You’ve got business to tend to and so do I.”

He took a step back and Isobel’s psyche tickled with disappointment. Was his business a half-naked woman waiting in his car? Longing for his strong arms to pull her close, feel his large hands travel over her body and help to unwrap his package?

“Goodnight, Isobel Trinidad.”

He’d said her name again, like he meant to remember it.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Get It Done Your Way

A Fork, Knife and Elephant Means What?

They’re all elements in an old parable where a man feels overwhelmed at the daunting task of eating an elephant. I never heard this story until last July, at the RWA national conference. I think it was either Roxanne St. Clair or Harlen Coben and Lisa Jackson who brought the story up during their discussion.

Writing a book can be much like eating an elephant at one sitting, if we let it be.
First, know writing a quality novel takes thought, sweat and time. A great deal of all three. The project is something you’re not just going to dash off in a weekend. Not even a long weekend. So know your work will take you several months, or a year, or years to accomplish, depending on your time constrictions and ability to type.
It’s less intimidating if you think of a huge job as parts. So size up your project. Is it going to be a novella, a category romance, single title or a series of single titles? Once you know the word count you’re targeting, you can break the project into parts. If you want to write a single title at approximately 90,000 words over ten months, you’ll want to write at least 9000 words in a month or nearly 2400 words a week. Break that down to six days a week (I gave you a day off) and you’ll need to write 400 hundred words a day.

That big elephant isn’t looking too huge now, right?

Now, imagine writing ‘the end’. You did it! Dance. Yell out to the world, yippy. Have some bubbly and chocolate. That’s it. Hold that feeling close. The warm fuzzy memory will urge you on when you think you can’t possibly do this.

Having all the tools you need, will make the task easier. Think about it. Did you ever make a cake batter with all the ingredients at hand? It’s much easier than if you had to grab the flour from this cupboard, egg from the refrigerator and, dang, I’m out of milk and need to run to the store. So gather the tools you’ll need. Computer, document storage (you don’t want to lose your work), any research notes, storyboard, storyline, notecards, whiteboard, and other writer friends. Yes, I said friends. Friends will encourage you and listen to you when you vent, and they’ll also offer up ideas when you need them.

Not every writer writes a book in the same way, or a in a linear fashion. If you hate writing the end, write it first. If the middle seems like a swayback mare to you and you hate facing it, fast draft a few scenes.

Last bit of advice, start eating that elephant. The end is non-existent without the beginning.

***** In The Presence Of Evil ******

Christmas is only a week away. At the insistence of his best-friend, Marine Cole Hanson returns to Mountain Pine, Pennsylvania for the holiday celebration. While he is not looking forward to facing the woman who broke his heart and has haunted his dreams, a small part of him hopes part of their past can be erased and they could start their relationship a new. When he sees Gina trembling in handcuffs, accused of murder, he steps up as her alibi, but can he keep her safe from the real killer.

One minute, Gina is planning the perfect holiday with her new boyfriend and the next she is in handcuffs and facing murder charges. Just when she thinks she’ll spend Christmas in jail, she looks up into the eyes that once had promised to love her forever. Cole. The memory of how he’d crushed her heart, keeps her from jumping into his arms until the truth of their past is revealed. But, is it too late for them? A killer is determined to make Gina his next victim.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

What Women Really Want

Valentine’s Day is right around the corner and most guys are probably rolling their eyes and moaning, “I just got through Christmas” or “Man, I screwed up with my last gift. I really need to give her something great. It’s too cold to sleep in the doghouse.”

Relax guys. I’ll tell you want woman. Romance.

Romance is not something you can buy in a store. It doesn’t cost a cent. The expensive flowers are great, and so are the chocolate and jewelry. They’re appreciated, but they’re not romance. And if they’re presented in a less than a romantic way, you’re dog meat.

Romance is when a guy shows the woman in his life how much he cares for her. Like, placing his hand on the small of her back as they walk side by side, brushing her hair back from her face, or leaving for work and rushing back in the door, again, for another kiss. Make her a cup of tea or rub her shoulders. Or surprise her with a candle lit bath.

I think the most romantic thing my DH has ever done for me is send me a postcard telling me he really loves me for no reason of all—not my birthday, not Valentine’s Day, not an any anniversary . It really doesn’t take much to make her hearts swell.

So, for the ladies reading this blog, do you want to help the guys out and share what you’d consider romantic?

Valentine's Day Wayback Style
By Autumn Jordon

Isobel slipped out of Warner’s truck and was immediately trapped by his hard body. Her shawl fell from her shoulders and Warner’s warm lips caressed her exposed bare skin. The man’s maleness wrapped around her senses, crushing her defenses into dust. Her knees buckled as tingles followed his assault over her dress’s thin strap, up the cord of her neck to the sensitive area under her lobe.

Tilting her head toward the snow moon, Isobel’s eyes drifted close. “We’re together six months and you still can’t wait until we get inside?”

“Remember our first date?” He mumbled against her ear.

“I’ll never forget. You wanted me so bad.”

He pulled back and chuckled. “I wanted you. You ripped my shirt off before I made it up the porch steps.”

“I think all the smoke you’ve inhaled while investigating fires has affected your memory, Yankee.” With her hands splayed on his hard chest, she pushed him back. “Why don’t we head in and I’ll show exactly how you assaulted me.” She entwined her fingers with his and started toward the house only to be yanked back.

“I need to show you something first.” Grabbing both her hands, Warner backpedaled toward the barn.

“No. I’m not dressed for the loft.”

“Trust me.”

Isobel laughed. “I’m in trouble if I do that.”

Warner rolled back the barn door and hit the light switch.

Lizzy whinnied.

Isobel took a moment to give the mare now completely blind in her right eye a treat of winter apple. As the horse’s soft muzzle tickled her palm, Isobel wished she’d find another horse as great as Lizzy was at the barrels and as pretty as the Appaloosa she’d seen at auction last week.

“Come on.” Warner’s hot breath brushed her ear.

Her new dress would smell of straw and beast if Warner had his way. The gravel floor crunched as Isobel dug her FMN cowgirl boot heels into its firmness. “No way I’m going to make out—”

A nicker drew Isobel’s attention to a stall that should be empty. “What was that?

She peered through the bars at the handsome Appaloosa colt she’d lost to a higher bidder at the auction. Her heart thumped under her breast. “I don’t understand. How?”

Warner’s eyes danced with wicked joy. “I knew how much you wanted him. Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

Isobel laced her fingers around Warner’s neck and pulled him closer. “Yankee, you’re going to get your shirt ripped off again.”

Thursday, February 9, 2012

What Makes A Romance?

Recently, a friend and I had a conversation concerning movies that featured a growing relationship between a man and a woman and what really makes them a true romance. I mean there are a lot of films that have a love story up front and center but still they’re not considered a romance. Examples that jump to mind are, Speed, Romancing The Stone, and The Mummy. Don’t believe me? Google them.
So what makes one story an epic romance and the other an action story? Let’s compare these two examples; Casablanca and Pearl Harbor.

Casablanca is considered a classic love story, it has been for decades. In fact, if you Google best romance movies of all time, it’s #1 with Gone with the Wind as #2.
I know Casablanca is one of my favorites. I swoon every time I watch Humphrey Bogart, who plays bar owner and freedom fighter, Rick Blaine, clink champagne flutes with Ilsa Lund, played by Ingrid Bergman, and says, “Here’s looking at you, kid.”
The film has a love triangle, so there is lots of conflict.

Later in the film, Rick and Ilsa confess their love and then Rick convinces Ingrid to get on a plane with the other man and leaves him behind to take on the Nazi regime. Not a happy ending, and we all know in today’s romance industry, a HEA is an ultimate requirement.

Now, let’s look at Pearl Harbor. While the blurb for the movie reads, Pearl Harbor follows the story of two best friends, Rafe and Danny, and their love lives as they go off to join the war it’s not considered a romance. With heroes as yummy as Ben Affleck and Josh Hartnett, why not?

Like Casablanca, the story centers around a love triangle and both are back dropped by war, the same war. Pearl Harbor even has a tainted HEA. So why is Pearl Harbor not a romance?

IMO, I think it has to do with how much focus is on the romance. There are more action scenes in Pearl Harbor and certainly they’re more vivid.

So, what do you think is the reason one is considered romance and the other action-drama?