I’m working on the latest installment of the Cowboys on the Edge series, so I thought you might like to check out at least one of the stories before the release of Lawless.
I’ll give away this one for FREE for the next five days, so get your copy now!
Out with the old, in with the new…
Or so Sherry Thacker thinks. Problem is, her ex is always on her mind—shirtless, sweaty, sooty, way too handsome—and right across the street. When a “Wet Down” ceremony to retire an old fire truck is planned by the city council to raise funds for the firehouse, she has to put aside her hurt and anger and do her job. Blake Thacker wants his wife back—in the house they shared, in their marriage bed. Still confused how Sherry’s becoming mayor managed to drive a wedge between them, he’ll use whatever means necessary to win her back.
Blathering’s a great word, don’t you think? I remember reading it often when I read Regencies.
So… I’m still typing one-handed. Probably will for the next month. I’m back to editing. I’ll try some speaking into my phone and sending myself messages to get some of my own pages written. My back’s much better. I’m standing straight again, instead of bent over. Lovely progress.
The weather has cooled too much to swim, so I’m not quite as resentful of my predicament as I could be. Silver linings!
I really need a haircut. I think I’ll ask the 16-year-old to watch some YouTubes… I’ve been letting the gray grow out. Well, I have silvery streaks, which I like. I wish the rest would turn quickly. I’ll be fashionable then.
The fam is pretty tight and adjusted to life in lockdown. Online schooling is challenging with four kids who need help and monitoring. The local high school football team is quarantined for positive tests, so our kids are ahead of the game. I can’t imagine having schools open and close and open and close without administrators deciding it just makes better sense to transition everyone. Less liability and constant jiggering for them.
We do takeout a couple of times a week, pick up groceries in front of the local grocery store, and do all our other shopping online. We have special “events”. Tonight, the older kids are having a friend over for a “star party” outside, and then they’ll light a fire in the fire pit and relax. The fire pit was an early lockdown project!
So, that’s what’s happening with the Devlin fam. What have you all been up to? Comment for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!
A few days ago, was the anniversary of my mother, Betty’s, death from cancer. I’ve worked through the stages of grief. I celebrate her life and all that she taught me. Like most, I didn’t appreciate her lessons until years later. I’m going to share the top three with you.
#1—Compliments. We are not given a finite number of compliments. Give them often and spread them far and wide.
I work part-time in a beauty salon in my small town. They don’t really need me; clients can make appointments online, and there are only two stylists working at a time (due to COVID-19). They keep me around because I compliment freely. I praise the stylist’s work, the outcome, shoes, jackets, the sunny day. I say it all. The best part is that it makes me feel better to see a person’s face light up.
In the Writing World—I compliment often. I send messages to authors that I’ve never met when I discover their book and enjoyed it. I respond to posts that make me think or feel. It is an easy way to network, and I’ve made great connections that started with a simple comment.
#2—Pick Your Battles. Why waste energy on something you will never win?
I remind myself of this every day since it is election time. Especially, when I see posts on social media. I do my best not to engage, however, my “snooze” button is getting a workout. The only thing I can say is that if a person is acquiring their news from a Facebook post as their only source—I’m not sure that they can be educated.
In the world of Romancelandia, there is a battle brewing weekly or so it seems. I have not returned to twitter since the RWA debacle; I can no longer handle the vitriol. I do admit to following some of the interactions, but I rarely enter the fray. I will comment on the never-ending trademark filings for commonly used words.
I try to follow Rule #2 because fighting a battle takes energy and emotion. My goal is to use my energy on my writing, and if there is any leftover, then dusting my old house.
#3—Acceptance. No one is perfect so why should we expect our friends to be?
You might be jealous—I have a friend who is the authority on everything. She is – just ask her.
I’m a part of a group message where we share our day to day victories and fails, our news, and our concerns. If I post that a friend received a cancer diagnosis—she’s had three this week. A mention of how you called somebody to express your sympathy at the loss of their parent—she tells you how you did it incorrectly. Somebody had a kitchen fire—she’s lived through two and the damage was much worse.
It’s exhausting and sometimes very frustrating. However, she has many good points, so I choose to overlook her responses, or I try to. I know I cannot change her, nor do I have the time to try. Yes, she can be an annoyance, but I’ve become used to her and I now “prepare” myself for her responses.
I could also go on about Betty’s rules concerning no white before Mother’s Day or after Labor Day—Take that Vogue! Her belief that you should never offer a beverage without a napkin. If you give a purse or wallet as a gift, you should always stash some coins and a dollar in it for luck. And finally, good-byes should take at least fifteen minutes.
My hope is that this fall you might try to incorporate one or more of Betty’s lessons into your life. It will enrich yours and others.
I’m Melanie Jayne/M. Jayne, and I write Romance. I live on a grain farm in central Indiana with my husband and our mastiff, Duncan Keith. I’m a huge sports fan and cannot wait for SEC football to begin. I have a deep attachment to The Real Housewives franchises and daytime court shows.
My books incorporate true stories from life and many of my characters are over the age of 35. My heroines are usually larger than size 16 and never apologize for their love of food and dislike of diets.
About the Author
Melanie Jayne/M. Jayne lives on a farm in Indiana with her husband and Duncan Keith her mastiff supervisor. She is addicted to trashy TV and TMZ.com. She writes The Novus Pack Series featuring a human psychic who lives amongst werewolves and several Contemporary Romance Series that feature characters over the age of thirty-five.
The phrase “return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear” was made famous by announcer Fred Foy, introducing the adventures of the old Lone Ranger and Tonto on radio and television. But for me, it’s a clarion call to lose myself in that wonderful time machine called history.
Twenty-seven years ago, I pastored a small church in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn. Nazarene United Church of Christ sits on the corners of Patchen Avenue and MacDonough Street. Often as I walked to do pastoral visits on the other side of Atlantic Avenue, I passed several wooden houses and wondered what they were, who had lived there. I learned they were the remnants of Weeksville, a community founded by free-Blacks in the 1830s. In the three years I served Nazarene, I never once got to visit them.
On my last trip back to New York, I visited the Brooklyn Historical Society and discovered Judith Wellman’s wonderful book, Brooklyn’s Promised Land: The Free Black Community of Weeksville, New York. She transported me back to the thrilling days of yesteryear on streets inhabited by the residents of a thriving Black community of ministers, doctors, landowners and entrepreneurs, streets I’d walked and intersections I’d crossed. The community’s residents strove to develop pride in self and place. It served not just as enclave for themselves but a refuge for many from the Southern violence of slavery in the South or Northern violence like the Manhattan draft riots of 1863. In 1968, a workshop sponsored by Pratt Institute led to the rediscovery of this historical safe haven.
How odd that I, who grew up in the Brooklyn neighborhood of East New York, chose to write historical romance about Blacks in the far West when Blacks west of East New York were much closer at hand. From my research done at the Brooklyn Historical Society, the Schomburg, and through Wellman’s book I wrote the novella Light The Fire Again for the Fireworks: A Passionate Ink Romance Anthology. Fred Foy’s call to return now to those thrilling days of yesteryear in the West, draws me west to Weeksville and to the thrilling stories Weeksville inspires me to write. A reimagined Gilded Age Weeksville is now the setting of my women’s fiction series of novels that I’m adapting from Wagner’s Ring cycle operas.
I didn’t get to visit the Weeksville Heritage Center last October. There’s always next year, I thought. I’ll be glad when I can tour Weeksville in the flesh, not just on the Heritage Center’s website: https://www.weeksvillesociety.org/.
I hope you will tour the original Weeksville houses and listen to one man reminisce about his childhood home there on the videos listed below:
Thanks for letting me share. Now, how about you share in the comments what you’ve learned about the history of your people or your neighborhood or your family. Everyone who does will be entered into a drawing for a $10 Amazon gift card.
Light the Fire Again
One night in 1896 between delicious rounds of oral sex, Adelaide Hanson and Hero Williams shared their hopes and dreams. She to be an artist like Edmonia Lewis. He to amass great wealth. Hero went off to start a fireworks business. Adelaide remained in Weeksville hampered by a ruined reputation until a doctor’s examination proved her still a virgin.
Two years later, Hero, now a self-made millionaire, returns to share his wealth with the community that sheltered his family from the violence of the Post-Reconstruction South. He has also returned hoping to ask Adelaide for her hand. She, however, is anticipating a marriage proposal from the son of one of the Black community’s most prominent families, despite his mother’s disapproval. Hero begs for a chance to change Adelaide’s mind. Although still in love with him, she is unwilling to risk her heart and societal opprobrium again. Then Hero makes an offer he hopes she won’t refuse: a chance to revive what they shared two years ago by viewing a private fireworks display designed especially to light the fire between them again.
Light the Fire Again is one of seven steamy fireworks-featuring romances in the Fireworks anthology, proceeds from which will go to ProLiteracy, an adult literacy organization. So enjoy some great sex while supporting a great cause.
Red and white checkered tablecloths fluttered gently in the warm July breeze. Summer sunlight glinted off glass pitchers brimming with iced tea, lemonade and water. The event attendees had filtered out of the hall and were lining up at the collation tables. Everyone grinned and smacked their lips as the delicious scents of collards, cornbread and fresh-baked biscuits, sweet potatoes, and chicken, both baked and fried, filled the air.
Adelaide’s stomach growled. She pressed a fist against her gut to quiet it. She hadn’t had breakfast and regretted offering to help serve.
“Hurry up Adelaide,” Emmaline Thompson barked. “Set those platters beside the others, go back for the last tray then be ready to serve.”
Adelaide bristled, tempted to deliver a tongue lashing of her own but kept silent and complied.
Reverend Johnson, Hero and several clergy and civic leaders headed for a white linen-covered table decked with red, white and blue ribbons set aside for the guest of honor.
Hero glanced her way, catching her eye. He smiled. Not a broad enjoy-your-day smile, but a narrow I-remember-you grin.
She remembered him too.
Her stomach growled again, this time from a different hunger.
She speared chicken on to plate after plate, forcing a smile with every “You’re welcome” she said to each guest served. The letter in her pocket gave her no reason to smile.
Reverend Johnson had given her the envelope in his office. She recognized Hero’s handwriting immediately. If Reverend Johnson hadn’t been present she’d have ripped it up. She’d shoved it in her pocket, planning to do just that when the minister asked her to please open it then and there.
The envelope contained two pieces of paper: one an article from the Brooklyn Eagle announcing the reason for Hero’s return to Weeksville. His family, known for their generosity to causes dedicated to uplifting the Negro race, had several monetary gifts for their former neighborhood. The reporter recounted the family’s harrowing escape from the South then chronicled their rise to wealth. Their most recent success was attributed to the series of fireworks Hero had designed over the last two years. The article ended by quoting Hero.
“Yes, God has blessed us with success, but I’ll be forever grateful to a muse who inspired me late one August night.”
Adelaide re-read the quote several times. Just seeing the words “August night” set her sex pulsing. She laid the article aside and read the second piece of paper. A hot fist of awakening curled low in her belly as she mouthed its simple words.
A Pandemic, multiple hurricanes—and now “zombie” storms? Yeah, add my personal woes of a broken finger that has me typing one-handed (with all the accompanying whining & typos) and a lower back that’s still keeping me walking like an old woman, and I’m ready to volunteer for the first mission to Mars! Short of that, I’ll settle for a bucket of Tramodol and some mindless, upbeat TV (I’m starting Wizards of Waverly Place).
Enjoy the puzzle, but be sure to check out the HUGE list of still-open contests you can enter below it!
Contest
Solve the puzzle then tell me what you “see”…for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!
Hi! My name is Bernadette Jones and I’m one of seven authors in the Aspen Gold Series.
I thought you might like to know what it’s like writing in a multi-author continuity series. It’s a blast! It’s also hard work.
Some series are set up on a thread, such as stolen artifacts. The first author starts the storyline then hands it off to the next author who pulls the idea a little farther and hands it off again. Another popular premise is a baby series where every book has a baby, finds a baby or adopts a baby. Or maybe the binding factor is they all have a ranch or were in the secret service together. You get the idea.
We chose to build our series around a family and a town. The nucleus of the Aspen Gold Series is the founding family of Spencer, Colorado. Jakob Spencer is the patriarch of the Spencer family and owner of Aspen Gold Lodge, an exclusive retreat. Each of the first six books was based on Jakob Spencer, one of his children or a grandchild. Each author was (and still is) tasked with having a tie back to the main family or the town where cousins and friends still live. Many of the characters are coming home to their roots.
My first book started with Hunter Jakob Lawe, one of the grandsons. He made friends that now surround his minor nucleus. Cheryl St John started with the Cavanaugh cousins. Each of the authors is gradually forming their own entourage of characters, but we all meet up in the town of Spencer at the bank, grocery store or coffee shop.
An extension of the premise for a series of books is the voice or type of books that will be written. For instance, in some series all the stories are sweet romance or romantic suspense, perhaps paranormal. Going back to our town concept, we decided that towns are a little bit country and a little bit rock-n-roll. Our authors and town are sweet, homey, dangerous, sexy, diverse, and even a touch paranormal. Basically, real life.
Fun! Yes, but this is also where the work comes in because it’s not just about family or our own individual books. Now we have hairdressers, doctors, policemen, firemen, lawyers, bartenders, waitresses, school kids, dance instructors. Did I mention we have two grocery stores, a cupcake shop, a candy store, an ice cream shop, two diners, a donut shop, a sub shop, fine Italian dining, two banks, three art studios…
We have a town populated with over 320 named characters.Think of it as if we were working together to build a village with interconnecting plastic blocks. Each of us needs to know what the other is doing. How do we manage that?
Next time, I’ll tell you about the Town/Character Playbook. Until then, come visit Spencer, in the Aspen Gold Series. Books thirteen and fourteen will be out later this year, and we already have a full schedule for next year.
Lonely Eyes
There is an art to pursuit.
Keira is running out of time. The handsome stranger with a dragon tattoo says he can keep her safe, but he doesn’t know the demons on her trail… Will her mysterious past lead her to escape, or drag her back to living hell?
Owen Strong has suffered tragedy, but he’s made a new family in Spencer, Colorado—one he will protect at all costs. When he finds determined Keira Hoa, she rouses more than just trouble. Looking into her lonely eyes, he sees that everyone’s in danger.
But she’s come to the right place. He’s the monster hunter.
Romantic Suspense Writer, Never Give Up-er, First Wives Club-er, Lifelong Dream Achiever & Mom
Bernadette Jones has been making up stories since she learned to read on her daddy’s lap. She has imagined casts of characters everywhere she’s called home: Texas, Oregon, Washington, South Dakota, Nebraska, Illinois, Massachusetts, and now New York.
Books and music filled her life as she, her dad and two brothers traveled the country. She would sit in the back seat of the car—her older brother always got to ride shotgun—listening to the current music on the radio, looking out the window and spinning a story based on a phrase she’d heard in the lyrics. As you can imagine, traveling the country, the music changed from state to state, as did the stories. To this day, she enjoys a wide variety of music and book genres.
After a career in corporate writing, she’s decided to settle down and put pen to paper doing what she loves. Living the dream in her NYC apartment with her canine companion, she’s bringing her stories and characters to life.
The Forgotten Brotherhood is my latest series. This is a truly diverse group of characters. It’s been challenging, maddening, and downright fun at times to watch their stories unfold. Now BURNING ASH, book three of the series, is finally here!
Who are the Forgotten Brotherhood? They’re a group of paranormal assassins, the misfits that other paranormal creatures fear. They aren’t the monsters lurking under the bed. They’re the ones that kill them. They live by a strict code: Kill only those that truly deserve it and let their gods sort them out. Kill them before they kill you. Never, ever betray a fellow assassin.
Burning Ash
Forgotten Brotherhood, Book 3
No one is more surprised than Asher, one of the oldest vampires on Earth, that he’s attracted to vamp hunter Jo Radcliffe. She’s smart, a talented slayer, and she’s gorgeous. Something about her pulls at him, like no one ever has before. For a man, whose name strikes fear in everyone––this is something new and intriguing. And quite possibly deadly, if she discovers his secret.
Jo has two things in common with the handsome Asher––they are both slayers and someone is messing with them in a very-much-trying-to-kill-them way. She’s not so happy about joining forces with a dude she doesn’t know. But he’s sexy as hell and really good at his job as one of the Forgotten Brotherhood, whose business it is to execute misbehaving paranormals.
She knows she’s bait in a larger plot to harm Asher and the Brotherhood. And there is nothing he won’t do, no line he won’t cross, to keep her safe––which may be the weakness that destroys them both.
Excerpt from Burning Ash…
“Who the hell are you?” she demanded of the tall, lean man who was still mostly in the shadows. Whoever he was, he was dangerous, maybe even more so than the creature she’d just beheaded. He’d come out of nowhere and snatched the crossbow bolt out of the air like it hadn’t even been moving.
A shiver raced down her spine.
Dressed all in black, he blended with the dark. She hadn’t known he was there until he’d deliberately come forward. And she always had total situational awareness. It was a matter of survival.
Her profession had a very high mortality rate.
A nudge of his foot sent the vampire’s head rolling back toward the body. The undead would need to be burned if he didn’t start disintegrating soon, but she was keeping her distance from the man in black.
“Asher.” He gave her a half bow. “And you are?”
A quick shake of her head. “You don’t need to know.”
“That hardly seems fair considering I saved your life.”
“It didn’t need saving,” she asserted. “I’d already moved.”
“True,” Asher conceded. “You’re fast, but I didn’t know that. I should get points for the attempt.” He sauntered out of the dark and fully into the candlelight. The flames flickered over his face, exposing a strong jaw, straight nose, and high forehead. His blond hair was pulled back in a short tail at his nape. His skin was olive-toned or tanned, hard to say. Piercing brown eyes stared at her.
Good looking was much to tame. Handsome didn’t fit either. There was something dangerous and predatory lurking beneath the surface. Primal. Compelling. Yeah, that was it.
It was time for her to leave.
“While I appreciate the assist, I’ve got this.” She jerked her head toward the door, hoping he’d take the hint.
A ghost of a smile flickered on his full lips before it disappeared. “I’ve got nowhere I need to be.”
“Great,” she muttered.
His laugh slid down her spine, a whisper of heat. Her nipples puckered and rubbed against her bra. Uh. No. The last thing she needed was some kind of fatal attraction. Because he was one of two things—a fellow hunter or another vampire. Neither of which were good for her.
“Come now, I’ll help you clean up this mess. Then we can get a cup of coffee somewhere, maybe talk.”
“It’s almost one in the morning. Nothing around here is open.” God, she was tired. She just wanted to fry this vampire and leave. Usually they disintegrated fairly quickly. This one was taking his sweet time. He either wasn’t truly dead yet or he was very young. The older they were, the quicker they turned to ash.
N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.
