Thanksgiving or Bust!

This year, Thanksgiving is at your house and you’re beginning to wonder why you agreed to host the family event. Relax. I’ve got tips for you.

Why should you take my advice? Well, I’ve hosted Thanksgiving, among other events, for more than twenty years for small, large and huge groups. And, I’m not only an award-winning author, but also— a long time ago— an award-winning restaurant manager. So, I have some experience at preparing feasts for many. Organization is one of my talents.

It’s always good to have a plan, so let’s start.

First, you need to do is decide three things. What style of dining you want your party to be—buffet or sit down. The style will play a part in your menu. You certainly don’t want to serve soup at a buffet, at least not at your home. Too many opportunities for spills.

Second, how many will be attending your celebration? If you really envision a sit down dinner, you’ll have to limit the guests, or have a second sitting, even a third sitting. Extra sittings is not my idea of a fun-filled day.

Third, menus for Thanksgiving can range from the traditional Norman Rockwell’s portrayal of roast turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce to Wild Salmon and rice. Make the holiday your own by combining traditions of guests. If invited family or friends offer to make dishes, let them, but ask if they intend to cook or bake their dish before arriving. Seriously, I’ve had someone bring their unbaked dish to dinner, expecting room in my oven and time to bake it.

My last tip has nothing to do with the meal. Activities. You’ll have a household full and while dinner is part of the agenda, it’s not the whole day.

While I love watching football not everyone does, so have other activities planned. My children and grandchildren love playing bingo. A game set can be purchased at a dollar store along with prizes. And while very few think of November as a time to fly a kite, it is great fun and a way to burn off the 5 thousand it is said Americans consume on Thanksgiving .
Now with your style, guests and menu decided, make a game plan.

Two weeks out from the holiday:
1) Confirm guests and time.
2) Review recipes and make shopping list for all dishes.
3) Anytime this week, check china, silverware, glassware and all serving dishes and platters, including salt and pepper shakers (wash & fill), butter dishes, gravy bowls, bread baskets, etc. Wash them and store them until ready to set your table.

If you’re planning to use paper or plastic-ware, buy it this week, especially if you’re thinking of holiday theme. You don’t have time to run from store to store searching for the last few packs on the shelves.
4) Check tablecloths, napkins, and any other decorative items, such as candles and candleholders. I’ve come for my candles only to remember they were used during the last storm. Purchase wanted items now.
5) During this week, you could actually arrange your furniture and set your table to ensure enough elbow room. It’s better to have the space all planned now then to try to arrange it during the days you’ll be baking and cooking. Arrange for extra necessary table space or seating.

One week out from the holiday:

1) Double check your grocery list and head to the store. (It’s a good idea to buy extra plastic containers and Ziploc bags for guests to take leftovers home.)
2) Think about your cooking timeline. I have one oven and a lot to bake, so I start my timeline at 1 pm, since my family usually sits down then and I work backward. The star of my dinner is the turkey, which I know must come out of the oven by 11:45. It has to sit and can be kept warm. So, depending on the size of the bird is when the turkey must go in my oven. 11:45 works, because my stuffing and corn pudding needs to bake for an hour so it can go in the oven then, along with mash potatoes and yams or any other dishes that need to be warmed. (It’s a good idea, especially if you have limited space, to put all baking dishes in the oven beforehand to ensure they fit) At 12:45, those food items come out and rolls go in for the last fifteen minutes while all other food is put into dishes and placed on the table. During the last hour, veggies can be steamed or warmed.
3) Cleaning. Honestly, I do a light house cleaning before the holiday, because the house is going to need a deep clean after the crowd leaves.

Two days before the holiday:

1) Some dishes can be made now. I find stuffing and candied yams taste much better when made ahead.
2) If you possibly can, set your table.
3) Make ice if you don’t have an ice maker.

Day before holiday:

1) Other dishes can be made early. Ie: mashed potatoes, pies, desserts, veggie trays.
2) I put my applesauce and cranberry sauces into bowls and refrigerate.
3) I’m live in northeast PA and have already used my outside gas grill as an extra cold storage unit for items prepared ahead. Think out of the box when space is limited.

The holiday:
You’re organized and ready. Stay with your timeline and if something hiccups, don’t sweat it. Your friends and family only will know what you’ve done not what wasn’t done.

Enjoy the day!

Need to get inspired for the holidays. Download Perfect today. On sale for a limited time for $.99. AMAZON
Dylan Kincaid totally screwed up Thanksgiving and now he’s faced with Christmas. Thrown into the frightening role of both mother and father while his brother and sister-in-law are off serving their country, all Dylan wants is to make Christmas perfect for his two nieces. But time is running out.

Down on her luck Charleston, S.C. restaurateur, Darcy Witherspoon is licking a wounded ego when she arrives in Black Moose, VT and meets the handsome Maple tree farmer. Wanting a happy holiday herself, she teams up with Dylan to make a perfect Christmas.

Neither is interested in a holiday affair, but the magic of Christmas has something more everlasting in store for the couple. An absolutely perfect love!

Voted The Best Cookie Ever

Happy Holidays and welcome to my blog.

Each year I’m determined to try a few new recipes and make a batch of cookies that will WOW my family and each year the cookies that disappear first are the ones my children have always love. The ones they, their cousins and the neighborhood gang always helped me make. The dough that I had to hide deep within the vegetable crisper, under the Brussels sprouts, because if found they would munch and munch and I would need to mix another batch and then stand guard.

The recipe has been handed down for generations. In fact, my recipe card was written by my grandmother nearly forty years ago. One day, I’ll pass the card on to my oldest granddaughter.

It’s a simple rolled sugar cookie. Perfect for adding your own personal artist touch. Perfect with a hot mug of coffee or tea. Perfect for Santa.

Grandme Elsie’s A-peas

Ingredients:
2 cups of sugar
1 cup butter softened
2 large eggs
1 Tlb of vanilla
1 Tlb of milk
1teas. of baking soda
1 teas. of cream of tartar
3 ½ cups of flour

Directions:

Mix all dry ingredients and set aside.
Cream together butter and sugar.
Add eggs and milk to butter and sugar and mix well.
Slowly add dry ingredients to creamed mixture and mix.
The mixture will be a little crumply when all combined.
Turned mixture out onto a sheet or wax or parchment paper. Wrap tightly and refrigerate for at least two hours. (I always make the dough the day before. I think the favors are enhanced by doing so.)

Set out dough to warm a little before dividing it into four equal amounts.

Then on a floured surface, press balls flat and roll out

into an approximate ¼ inch thickness. A little thicker dough will make a softer cookie while thinner dough will make a cruncher cookies. Everyone has a different preference. Using cookie cutters, cut out the shapes. The scrapes can be rerolled again.

Place cookies on cookie tray. Decorate with colored sugar and bake at 350° for approximately 10 minutes. Place on rack and let cool.

My little ones always trace their hands and decorate with their initials as gift to Santa.

Enjoy while putting your feet up and reading a PERFECT holiday story.

PERFECT, a heart-warming holiday read.

Dylan Kincaid totally screwed up Thanksgiving and now he’s faced with Christmas. Thrown into the frightening role of both mother and father while his brother and sister-in-law are off serving their country, all Dylan wants is to make Christmas perfect for his two nieces. But time is running out.
Down on her luck Charleston, S.C. restaurateur, Darcy Witherspoon is licking a wounded ego when she arrives in Black Moose, VT and meets the handsome Maple tree farmer. Wanting a happy holiday herself, she teams up with Dylan to make a perfect Christmas.
Neither is interested in a holiday affair, but the magic of Christmas has something more everlasting in store for the couple. An absolutely perfect love!

AMAZON BUY LINK click here.

What If

Where in the world do you get your ideas? That is the number one question I get from readers. My answer is simple. Life.

If you’ve read any of my published works, you’re probably saying yeah right. That really happened to you? My answer is, “Well, not all of it, but the catalyst for the story really did happen to me, or to someone close to me.”

Example, in ‘Obsessed By WildFire’ the heroine is a barrel racer. I was a barrel racer and have a few ribbons to prove it. My family’s barn burned at the hands of an arson. These memories among others were the sparks for the story.

In ‘His Witness to Evil, a tractor-trailer is stolen. My family is and has been in the trucking industry going on seventy years. I remember going with my father to the New York City Markets as a young girl and seeing the drivers sleeping in their cabs with their feet hanging out the window. Very few trucks had bunks then. You wouldn’t take a child into the markets today and you certainly wouldn’t sleep with your windows open. Heists occur.

‘In The Presence Of Evil’ deals with bank wire transfers being intercepted and sent to criminal accounts. Yes. It happened. How? It’s in the hands of the FBI to find out. Today, criminals don’t need to pick your home’s lock in order to rob you.

Catalysts for stories are everywhere and all I need to do is ask what if and my imagination takes off. It's as simple as that.

I haven’t shared info or an excerpt for Obsessed By Wildfire in a while, so here you go. OBW is a fun, sexy, contemporary with just a bit of suspense set in the heart of Texas. If you'd like a free digital download of Obsessed By Wildfire just join my newsletter.

Enjoy

Autumn



******
Isobel Trinidad is her own woman. She vows no man will rope her into the humdrum life of a housewife and take away her dreams of becoming the National Barrel Champion like her father had done to her mother. Her mind is set, until a handsome Yankee comes to town and upsets everything she has believed.

Arson brings State Fire Marshal Warner Keyson to Mule Post, but a wildfire of a woman stops him in his tracks. Intrigued by Issy’s fire, he contrives ways to keep her close while conducting his investigation. What they create, which neither of them bargained for, is the blaze of a lifetime.
::::::

Chapter One of 'Obsessed By Wildfire'

The sun had set.

Mini dust tornados swirled off the tires of Isobel Trinidad’s seen-better-days Chevy pickup. She maneuvered through the Blue Bug Saloon’s crammed lot at a less than safe speed, nearly taking the fender off of Suzie’s prized classic Mustang. Suz would scalp her next time she went into the Hair Crazy Salon to get the dead ends trimmed from her waist length hair. And she was partial to her raven locks.

A couple of orange cones flew as she reached her destination and slammed on the brakes. The pickup skidded to a stop in the no parking area in front of the double doors. She jammed her truck into park and shouldered the door open before the four-by-four’s engine stopped its final whine.

The neon light above the Blue Bug’s entry turned her white tank top a beautiful, light shade of sapphire and glazed her bare arms with an indigo tint.
Why hadn’t Chicky used blue? Blue was comforting. But no, he’d used gut-wrenching yellow. The town’s handyman knew she hated yellow. Why he’d even helped her spray paint her yellow taxi purple. The man didn’t listen. She hated men who thought they knew what was best for a woman when they had no clue.

Chicky left her no choice. She had to kill him.

She reached over the side of the truck, into the bed, and grabbed her lunge whip. It was the Thursday night before a holiday weekend and Mule Post’s hot spot was packed. Did she care? No. It just meant there would be a whole herd of witnesses to watch Chicky cower his way back to her spread and fix what he’d done while she’d been off checking out a promising two-year old stallion.

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 Mule Post. 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 Mule Post’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.

The Yankee smiled, turned and walked back through the dozens of cars. He had a damn fine flank side.

What brought Warner Keyson to Mule Post? Certainly wasn’t the rodeo. There wasn’t a bit of hayseed scent about the man.



Please note all material on this site is copyright protected by Autumn Jordon.

$100.00 PRIZE - Enter Today.

Would you love to be the owner of this Sweet Grass Basket and a $100.00 Amazon gift card? You could be. All you need to do is join my newsletter. The contest will run from NOW until December 15, 2015. On December 16, 2015, I will announce the winner in a special Holiday newsletter. All members of my newsletter on December 15 will be eligible. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been a member. The only restrictions I have are you must be 18 years of age (by signing up for my newsletter you’re confirming that you are) and you must be a USA resident. So sign up NOW and enjoy the perks of being one of my followers! (click NOW)

If you haven't read PERFECT, shame on you. To understand how special this basket is to Darcy, you need to.

PERFECT'S blurb.


Dylan Kincaid totally screwed up Thanksgiving and now he’s faced with Christmas. Thrown into the frightening role of both mother and father while his brother and sister-in-law are off serving their country, all Dylan wants is to make Christmas perfect for his two nieces. But time is running out.

Down on her luck Charleston, S.C. restaurateur, Darcy Witherspoon is licking a wounded ego when she arrives in Black Moose, VT and meets the handsome Maple tree farmer. Wanting a happy holiday herself, she teams up with Dylan to make a perfect Christmas.

Neither is interested in a holiday affair, but the magic of Christmas has something more everlasting in store for the couple. An absolutely perfect love!


Perfect is also available at:

Kobo
B&N
APPLE



REVIEWS:

A happy little Christmas love story! A quick read with little antagonism, it was a cute book that made me smile. ~ December Kindle reader

It was a nice warm and fuzzy book. Just wish I knew what will happen next.
Love at first sight!!!! ~ December Kindle reader

Christmas romance at its best! Loved ever minute of it! Looking to read more from this author.~ November Kindle Reader

Enjoyed this book very much. Even though I dislike winter it made me warm and cozy.~October Kindle Reader

I really liked this story. It made me feel good. I liked the characters and loved that happy ending. If you want a short book that gives you a warm fuzzy feeling, this will fit the bill. ~ Sept. Kindle Reader

Hundreds more...

Valentine's Day In Mule Post, Texas

OBSESSED BY WILDFIRE

My readers wanted to know what happened to Isobel and Warner, so I decided to share one of their Valentine moments.
ENJOY the snippet!

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.”

TURKEY POT PIE

Happy Holidays! Thank you for stopping by. I'm in the decorating mood as you can tell.

Days after Thanksgiving and I open my refrigerator and a platter of turkey still fills the top shelf. There’s too much. My DH and I could eat turkey for a week and still have leftovers. How could this be? The kids all went home with their share yet still there is so much.

Looking ahead, the months are going to be much colder. The northwest wind will rattle the window panes, leaving behind lacey fingerprints. My Irish Setter will wear a white muzzle most of the time because he’ll constantly dig in the snow, sniffing out a field mouse or chipmunk. My DH’s cheeks will rival Santa Claus’ complexion after an hour of plowing. Yes, the months of ahead are perfect for hearty soups that will warm the body and spirit. So today I will take that turkey, cut it up into bite size pieces and freeze it.

Do you have a favorite turkey leftover recipe to share? Here is one of my favorite.

1 cup chopped celery
1 cup peeled and sliced carrots
4 medium potatoes peeled and diced
1 cup of frozen peas
2 to 3 cups of diced turkey
32 oz of chicken/turkey broth ( I freeze left over broth too)

One bag of potpie noodles. I love making my own potpie but in a pinch I use commercial made.

Directions:

Add to tablespoons of oil to warm stock pot. Add celery, carrots and potatoes, stir constantly for about three minutes. Add turkey and frozen peas and parsley. Stir for another minute or so. Add broth and three cups of water. Bring mixture to a boil. Add potpie. Salt and pepper to taste. Cook until potpie is soft but not mushy. Let stand for a few about three minutes and serve with thick slices of toasted bread. YUM.

For more of my recipes check out free download of the Ruby-Slippered Sisters cookbook, EAT, READ, LOVE. It features recipes from each of my books and those of my Ruby sisters.

AMAZON

Also, join me this Friday, November 30th, at Christmas Angels We're celebrating angels. Tell us about the angel on your life.



Oh, don't forget to enter my holiday gift contest. Scroll down for details.

Enjoy!

AJ

The Bartender In The Sky

Late last evening, feeling angst and sporting a headache that throbbed against my skull, I took a walk in the dark. My only companion, the moon. With his hair over one eye, he watched over me—saved me from the dark shadows. I gazed up into his face and wondered about the billions of people who’ve gone on to the next world before me, the ones who had dumped their troubles on him. The ones who had shared with him their dreams. The ones who had laughed and loved under his twilight.

I wondered about their stories. Some are known by all of us. Some by a few.
As I walked, I gaze over the valley that was my great grandparent’s farm, now divided among their children’s children. I know my great grandparent’s names. I can tell you they lay in the cemetery on the rise to the east. I can tell you their birth and death dates. However, I don’t know what they were like as people. Did they enjoy music or reading? Were reserve or outgoing? What was their favorite time of the year? Or their favorite foods? Did they believe and trust in the Almighty? What were their dreams?
We have pictures of course with names scribbled on the back, but by who? We have ledgers and invoices of transactions stored in the old farm house attic, but no personal memoirs. Knowing this, sadness crept in my heart as I crossed an open field. I wished someone had left behind their words for me. Told me who they were. Left a clue as to who I called my past.

At that moment, the moon winked at me and from within I heard, “You were given the gift of the written word. Why haven’t you left behind words for your children or grandchildren or great grandchildren? Not all will seek them, but there will be one who will. Like you, they will cherish the memories you share and pass them on to another who well cherish their heritage. And so on.”

Stunned, I gaped into his one eye. The ancient man was right. He winked again and turned into a cloud, probably to advise someone else. I finished one swallow of crisp night and with a light step headed for home. I pulled from a drawer a diary given to me one Christmas years ago and wrote. Within these pages you will come to know who I was, what I felt passionate about, and what were my dreams. My hope is I will teach something of the past, something that will make you a stronger person and that I’ll touch you in some way. With love, your heritage.


This is a reprint of my blog from July 2009. I remember it everytime I see the full moon. Since its first printing, I have written two journals and inserted pictures for my grandchildren to enjoy with their children. The future will enjoy the stories of the past-the ones created by their parents.

Have a wonderful week. AJ

It's gone. It's done. I'm moving on.

Time. We all wished we had more stashed away somewhere so on those occasions when we really do need to be cloned three times over we could open the proverbial bottle and dump time over our heads. But, the concept of time and how to capture it remains a mystery to even the greatest minds.

So what is our alternative? How about organization?

We all know how to organize? Well, maybe 75% of us do. Mankind has been organizing things since day one. They kept their food in one area of the cave and their fossil fuels in another and slept in another. They organized hunting parties to gather or capture their food. We know herbalist have been around since, well, day one. I’m sure they kept their ginkgo separated from their dandelion. (To learn more about herbs and their uses visit http://www.age-oldherbs.com/ailmentherb.php ) But how do we organize to save or make the best use of our time?

First, thing that comes to my mind is to get rid of clutter. Over the last year or so, I’ve been tossing, recycling, and giving things away that I don't use any longer, and I still have a truck load that needs to go. I watched a newscast a few months ago on the new minimalist movement. One man had less than one-hundred items, excluding food, underwear and socks in that count, but every other article of clothing, cooking and eating utensils and everything else he owned was included. The show really made me think about what I actually need in my life and how much having a ton of stuff can blog me down. Out the door became my new motto. Well, except for my books. I mean let's be honest. Books are treasure.

Second, when getting organized, I think of lists. The days I make a list are the days I get so much more done. I know some of you have heard the old story about the woman who goes out to get her newspaper and sees her flowers need water so she goes to get the watering can and notices her car windows are open. She drops the can and goes inside to get her keys and picks up her husband’s socks from the floor and carries them to the hamper only to realize it’s full and she needs to start the laundry. Etc, etc, etc. Until the end of the story she is exhausted and never gets anything done. (I’m raising my hand here.) That is so me on some days-days that I don’t make a list, prioritize the items and stay focus on accomplishing the tasks. The world is filled with many disractions bidding for our attention. Without super human powers, we can’t do it all.

One more. (This blog is getting too long. I hate long blogs. I don’t have time to read everything. I’m sure you don’t either) Choose what is important to you and do it first. If gardening is your love, make it your priority and the first thing you do in the morning, or on your off time. If exercise is your game, do it. If it’s writing, sit down and knock out a page or two. Do what you truly love first and your step will be lighter doing the rest of the items on your I’ve-got-to-get-done list.

Thank you for visiting. Take your time looking around and please visit again. AJ

John's Story

A look into John's past.

John Dolton crashed to his knees in front of the inferno that consumed his life.

His heart pumped against his sterum with strong, wild vibes, but his brain felt starved for oxygen. How could that be?

Heat like tiny flesh straved piranhas gnawed at his skin. He gulped against the pain. Roasting air seared his lungs, expanding them until his chest felt as if were about to explode.

He didn’t care.

“Damn, John, snap out of it.”

He blinked and focued on the face in front of him.

“Come on, man. You’ve got to get back.” He heard his partner’s cry but Luke’s voice was diffused, coming at him from several directions.

Something looped under his arms and yanked him upward, lifting his dead weight off his knees—the ones that had given way when he’d seen his life gone. The heels of his boots marked the tarmac with duel tracks as he was drugged away from the wreckage. He didn’t fight. He couldn't. Every muscle in his body had died. His gaze remained on the windows of what once was his SUV.

Staring beyond the flaming bizarre tongues licking at the vehicle’s roof, he saw his wife and little girl as he had left them only ten minutes ago. Happy. Laughing. Anticipating a long overdue family vacation.

“Why?” A screamed like that of a savage, wounded animal rivaled sirens.
He searched the faces staring at him. Wide-eyed, brow ceased, sad faces stared back.
Had the horrendous cry come from him?

Julie.

Katie.

He had to save them.

Adreline surged through his veins and John pulled from the force that pulled him back.

Luke’s grip tightened.

“Let me go. I've got to try.” John twisted and swung a fist at his partner’s jaw, but Luke ducted in time.

Pain ripped through John's shoulder as Luke grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back.

“They’re gone, John. You can’t save them.”

The agency’s emergency response team raced around the inferno, but John knew in his heart they were too late. He was too late. He had failed to keep Julie and Katie safe.

John caught a glimpse of the smothering arm lying on the sidewalk against the store front a moment before a fireman covered it with a white plastic sheet. A silver band encircled the tiny wrist.

Julie.

John swore a fiery rod stabbed his gut. He clutched his ribs and a second later, he hurdled the egg-muffin he'd consumed an hour ago.

“We’ll get them. I promise you.” Luke’s voice shook as he held John. “I swear. I will die before they get away with this.”

They?

John fell to the sidewalk. Cold laughter mingled with the taste of vomit in his mouth. Luke nor he knew who they were.

They had taken his reason to live. When he found them, they would wish this day had never happened.

Available at Amazon and B&N.

Things Are Poppin'

Welcome to my world. This morning was beautiful, so I thought I'd shared some of the sights I saw while I walked.













The Dogwood tree is blooming.








And the apple trees.









This is one of my favorite places to write.


There is magic in storytelling. L. Allende


The Johnnie Jump-ups are jumpin'.








The wild carneys (Yellow Finch)are back.







Thanks for stopping by. Have a great weekend!

Where Did You Read?

Before B&N, before Borders, before Walden Books, before chain stores had a book section, people went to the library to pick out a book to enjoy for an afternoon or two weeks. A hardcover book. Only the wealthy had shelves of books.

I’m not wealthy, but I do have shelves of books. I have enough books to keep me reading non-stop for years. I have so many because 1) I’m an avid reader. 2) I can afford a mass-market book now and then. 3) I’m a writer and I’ve received many books from writer friends and conferences. And, I need to research the market so book purchases are sometimes necessary. I’m lucky.

However, there is nothing like walking into the library, smelling the volumes of paper, running my hands over the bindings and rejoicing that so many stories are there for my taking. It’s a high, I tell you.

It saddens me that there are those who cannot afford to purchase a book, much less an electronic device to download a free book. Books are essential for education of our youth, ourselves. The library is very important to them. Who knows, a future president or a future doctor who cures cancer, or someone who might marry your child, could be one of the masses that use the library today. Education is important to the well-being of our society and that is why it’s important for us to support our libraries.

Because of the poor economy, governmental funding for our libraries is stagnant, while operational costs are increasing. Yes, I know, what you are thinking. I can’t afford to give to another charity. But could you pack a lunch a few days this week and donate some of the money you saved to your library? Or could you take a few of those books on your shelf and donate them to your library. Is your library planning a fund raiser, maybe a bake sale or basket raffle? Could you donate items? Do you have an hour each week to donate your time? A lot of little aids add up to huge supports.

This week is National Library Week. April 8-14. Please consider helping them to help others.

Happy Easter

Happy Holiday everyone! I'm taking the weekend off to be with family. I hope you enjoy your weekend. Be safe. AJ



PS: remember the sale on His Witness To Evil ends soon. Check blog below for links.

Dreams

I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
William Butler Yeats.

We all have dreams. We began dreaming at an early age; wishing for a pony, or to romp in the ocean, or to sleepover at a friend’s house.

As we grew older our dreams changed. Maybe instead of a pony, we wished for a car. Instead of romping in the ocean, we wanted to drive around night with our friends in our own car. And maybe instead of a sleepover, we want to go away for a whole weekend, in our car.

And as the years drifted by, our dreams became something more than just material things or superficial wants. They became an extension of ourselves and define who we truly are.

I’ve wanted to be a published author from a very early age. I wanted to daydream and use those dreams and ideas to entertain others. I get satisfaction from putting words to a page, and I’m overwhelmed with joy when a reader writes me a note telling me how much they’ve enjoyed my work.

I’ve known other people over the years who wanted to be doctors, teachers, truck drivers, secretaries, etc. and who took up those professions and are living their dreams. They’re happy because they’re living their dreams.

Dreaming is not a suspension of reality—it is an extension of it.

Sometimes we don't know what our dreams are until they walk up and slap us in the head. Then without a doubt, we realize it's been there all along, inside us.

You’re dreams are who you are. Listen and you will hear.

The Journey of spirtual growth requires courage and intiative and independecne of thought and action. While the words of the prophets and the assistance of grace are available, the journey must still be traveled alone.
M. Scott Peck

His Witness To Evil is on SALE!

To celebrate the release of my Golden Leaf Winner, HIS WITNESS TO EVIL, I'm offering it in e-format for only .99 at Amazon & B&N. The sale will be for a short time only.




Here’s the link to Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/His-Witness-To-Evil-ebook/dp/B007MBA1O0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1332340994&sr=1-1

Here's the link to B&N:http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/His-Witness-To-Evil?keyword=His+Witness+To+Evil&store=allproducts

A blurb for ‘His Witness To Evil’.

Based on true events, awarding-winning author Autumn Jordon has penned a thrilling romantic suspense set in the backwoods and small towns of the Appalachian Mountains.

Stephanie Boyd’s ordinary world changes forever when she and her children witness a blood bath. To escape the wrath of the Russian Mafia, she has no choice but to help the FBI uncover the mafia’s mole inside the U.S. Treasury. While on the run with the handsome agent who is willing to die for them, Stephanie learns the meaning of self-sacrifice and love.

Agent John Dolton’s only break in solving the case that cost him everything is a couple of kids and a beautiful widow. But keeping them safe seems impossible when their every move is foreseen by their enemy. Within weeks, Stephanie and her children soften the loner’s heart and John allows himself to let go of his all-consuming sorrow. This time John vows not to fail to protect the family he comes to love.

True events?

I see your eyebrows raised. Yes, true events. Life is stranger than fiction.

The idea for the book came when a trailer containing US funds went missing from the lot of the trucking company I had worked for. It was stolen, just missed directed for an hour. Tractor-trailers are stolen every day, for the product being hauled.

Another element is also true and has been verified by the FBI director of the branch FBI office near my home. I can’t tell you what that is, because I would be giving away part of the suspense plot. You’ll just have to read ‘His Witness To Evil’ and try to figure it out.

Remember the sale is only for a short. Please pass on the information. Thank you. AJ

April Fool's

April 1, 2012

LOL. I’ve been giggling to myself ever since I decided to pull the prank on FaceBook. I’m so sorry to have fooled you, but I'm happy you took the time to wish me a happy birthday and then to jump over here.







My birthday? I'm a Scorpio. I know, I'm bad. LOL

PRESENTS FOR YOU, read on...



As a consolation for my bad April’s Fools prank, everyone who has wished me a Happy FB Birthday and who leaves a comment here, (no you’re going to kill me messages of any type) will be entered into a contest where I'll award five winners (that's 4+1 for April first) e-copies of His Witness To Evil. I’ll announce my winners on Monday afternoon at five EST, because, we'll I'm giving away five copies. You have until then to enter. No joke, really.

Already have a copy of His Witness To Evil, you can have an e-copy of Obsessed By Wildfire instead or gift His Witness To Evil to a friend. A great Eastre present! WINK

Good luck and happy April!

What Is Blooming My Way

The morning begins in northeast PA.





The crocus open to greet the day.






A cardinal calls, "It's breakfast."











It's time to plant May's flowers.









Warm winds brought spring early this year and much is already in bloom.























The moon rises among the stars.




Visit my friends' blogs to see what is blooming in their backyards.




Florida Rita Henuber ritahenuber.com

Texas Diana Layne blog.dianalayne.com/

Arizona Cynthia Justlin http://cynthiajustlin.com/blog

His Witness To Evil

April 5, 2012

Welcome to my blog. I'm so excited to share I've released His Witness To Evil. I just love the cover, don't you? It's available on Amazon and B&N this week at a sale price of .99.

When I began to write romantic suspense, I tossed out several reams of paper. Why? Because no matter how I tried I couldn’t keep my villain hidden. He kept voicing his POV and writing his own chapters. I nearly ripped my hair out by the roots fighting with him to stay silent. Then I read a wonderful book, How To Write Killer Fiction by Carolyn Wheat. Ms.Wheat set me straight and confirmed what my villain was telling me all along.

Is there a Who-dun-it in suspense? Of course there is. It’s when the villain will be revealed that makes the two different, among a few other elements. In a mystery, an act of violence begins the story, but most times the action is set off stage. The reader is invited into the dilemma and introduced to an already seasoned hero who solves the crime logically and through scientific methods. There is a small circle of suspects, clues and red herrings. Information is withheld from the reader and the said reader is kept in the dark two steps behind. The hero grows very little during the story. The story is all about who killed X? The villain is not exposed until the last scene and the end result for the reader is an intellectual satisfaction.

A suspense novel starts on even keel, showing the everyday life our hero or heroine. Then BAM a nightmare occurs. The hero and/or heroine are not necessarily seasoned investigators. This is where your character arc comes in to play. The hero and/or heroine will grow throughout the story.

Excerpt from His Witness To Evil:

Stephanie masked her sigh of exertion while lifting the Coleman cooler she’d borrowed for their trip. She lugged the container to her old SUV. She knew how her son felt. She wished she had the money to take them away on exciting excursions like their friends had this summer. To places like Disney World, but she couldn’t even afford a day trip to Hershey Park, America’s chocolate capital. Em’s special diet, because of her allergies, took up a third of her take-home pay. After paying the mortgage, utilities, car insurance and miscellaneous expenses, she was lucky to save a few dollars a week.

She chewed on her bottom lip. Hopefully, next week Bobby and his friends would be off on new adventures, their summer vacations a distant memory.
The howl of a diesel engine jerked Stephanie from her musing. The squeal of brakes, crushing metal and shattering glass made her spin around.
***

Other basics of a suspense: All action is on stage. The protagonists’ world expansions. There are surprises. The villain can be revealed to the reader immediately and he or she can have a POV.

Yeah! This made my villain happy.

Information is given to the reader but withheld from the heroes. In other words, we know what could happen if the wrong path is taken by our hero or heroine. The reader sits on the edge of her seat, screaming at the heroine and hero not to go there.

Excerpt from His Witness To Evil:

“I don’t want to kill no kids, Victor.” Mac danced in place ready to dodge Victor’s wrath.

“You will do as I say,” Victor snapped.

She looked at the dead driver. His lifeless stare pleaded to her for justice.

“Don’t trust her,” Sheriff Morse ordered, turning his gun on her.

Stephanie refused to flinch under Morse’s scrutiny.

Gene moved in front of her. “Frank, what the hell are you doing? You’ve known Stephanie all her life.”

“There is too much at stake, Gene. She saw me kill that guy. I’m not going to jail.”

Morse’s tongue skimmed his lips. “Why the hell are you trying to protect her anyway? You two have been fightin’ like junkyard dogs for years. You complain every day she’s milking you dry. This is your chance to be rid of your mistakes.”

“Steph was never a mistake to me,” Gene’s voice rose in response. Then it softened. “I was hers.”

Tears threatened to blur her vision and she blinked them away. She squeezed Gene’s arm and glanced at her ex-husband’s profile. He remained focused.

“Touching,” Victor said. “But, sorry, no. They must die here.”
***

The suspense story is all about the hero or heroine prevailing. Emotional satisfaction is what the reader gets from a suspense novel. And since I write romantic suspense, ever lasting love must also be found.

Excerpt from His Witness To Evil:

After a week, her touch was familiar. His heart melted. He grabbed her hand, holding her in place as he turned and smiled down on her. Her nipples pushed against her white T-shirt. He gently brushed a knuckle across one peak. “No. It was hell without you.”

“Mmmm. Same here.” She pulled back and lifted his arm around her, curling into him. Looking out over the lake, she sighed. “I could stay here forever, if you’d let me.”

“I wish we could.” He gathered her closer and kissed the top of her head. “But eventually Bobby and Em would have to go to school.”

“I could home school.” Her chuckle was strained.

He felt her pain. He smiled while his heart wrenched. He would like nothing more than to forget about the world and stay here with her and the kids. But they couldn’t. “Sooner or later Ben will call. We’ll have to go back.”

“I know.”

Steph moved away. A cold void took her place.

She drifted to the other porch column. Leaning against it, she folded her arms across her chest. Her lips pressed together as if she was forming the right words behind them. “I know I said that our time together here was going to be enough to last me a lifetime, but—” Tears brimmed her lids. “I was wrong. A lifetime won’t be enough.”

John stepped toward her. “I don’t know what—”

“I know, you don’t know how we can be together. So, Ben will call. We’ll go back, and I’ll identify Victor. You’ll toss him in jail and throw away the key. You’ll drive off in pursuit of the next bad guy and me…Well, I’ll go home and wonder where you are. Wonder if what I felt was love.”

The woman knew how to make a guy feel like a heel.

John pulled her into his arms. She buried her head in his chest and cried softly against him. He kissed her head and smoothed her hair. “Steph, I didn’t think I’d ever love again,” he whispered softly, cupping her chin and tilting her face up until she looked at him. “Like a bomb, you dropped into my life. Every defense I’d put up to protect myself from ever being hurt again came tumbling down. You opened up my heart. As much as you don’t want to live without me, I don’t want to live without you. I love you.”

He kissed her gently. Her arms wrapped around him and held on. “Somehow, we’ll figure this out. I promise.”

I hope you enjoyed!
Visit me at www.autumnjordon.com

If you would like to host me at your blog contact me at autumnjordon@yahoo.com

All material contained within this post may not be used without expressed permission from author. Copyright© By Autumn Jordon

What's up Phil?

Tuesday is the first day of spring. Signs of its arrival have been popping up and out for the past three weeks here in NE PA. It was reported that Punxsutawney Phil was not available for comment concerning Mother’s Nature thumbing her nose at him. HA ha-ha!

Spring brings many memories to my mind. One is my grandmother. As soon as the weather broke and the coal stove was dampened down and the windows open to let fresh air breeze through the house, it was time for spring cleaning. The furniture was moved back and the carpets rolled up and taken outside and hung over the wash line. It was the younger childrens job to bat the heck out of them. The carpets wouldn’t be brought back into the house until the last a spec of dust fell from its fibers.

While the carpets were handled, drapes, furniture cushions, and pillows found their way to the wash line too. The venetian blinds were stripped from the windows and put into huge tubs of sudsy water. Grandpa was called if any repairs had to be made. This was the time, before the real work began.

Once he was done, and his tools put away, the furniture was brushed and wiped down. (They didn’t have vacuum extensions during this time period. Grandme’s vacuum was huge and roared like a T-Rex.) Dust Bunnies were rounded up. The furniture was move to the center of the room. The walls were stripped of all adornments and then, came the hot soapy water. The walls wiped sown. Hot soapy pine water was used on all the wood work. And, hot vinegar water was use to scrub the windows. Newspaper was used to dry them and make them shine. Finally the floor was scrubbed.

Only after the room passed Grandme’s inspection was everything put back into place. Then it was onto the next room.

While the women worked inside the men were busy outside. The house was taken care of before the spring planting could begin.

Spring cleaning usually took a good four days, but by Sunday all the chores were done and we could relax and enjoy a Sunday dinner in a sparkling home.

So this week, like my grandmother and my mother, I’ll begin my spring cleaning. My job will be made easier by modern conveniences. I can’t wait to smell inside the freshness of SPRING.

Disclaimer: I’m not as old as this blog might make me seem, but this is my grandmother I’m blogging about. She had her ways and her tools and we helped doing the job her way.