Profile

jj Keller is a native Hoosier. A dreamer. A writer. A storyteller.

She’s married and has two sons. Traveling to exotic locations is something she can’t do enough of (even if it’s only in her mind) and puttering around in her herbal garden is her favorite pastime. She enjoys a good story, easy listening music and a fine glass of wine.

Urban fantasy, paranormal, romantic suspense and thrillers are her favorite genres.

jj is a member of Romance Writers of America, and the Kiss of Death RWA Chapter.

jj’s pen name is a result of her family name. She used lower case in her given name because of her fondness for ee cummings’ work.The man was a great poet and author. They both tend to be unconventional, his capitalization and her imagination and “fresh” attempt at writing. ee studied English, as jj did, he had a fondness for Greek and Latin and she loves to use Greek Mythology references in her work. His unique style of writing can be seen in Buffalo Bill’s/defunct and her only western to date, revolves around Buffalo Bill.

She hopes someday her work will be considered “mud-luscious” and “puddle-wonderful”.

Shadow of the Hawk

Shadow of the Hawk
Shadow of the Hawk
978-1-60088-833-5
Cover Art: Louisa Gallie
Excerpt; http://www.cobblestone-press.com/catalog/excerpt/shadowhawk.htm
Blurb:
“Simple educator” doesn’t begin to describe Kristina, not when she has the ability to read minds and shove someone’s molecules into another dimension. The kidnapping of her little brother by the Dark Angel adds another complication to her life, which is already messed by desiring Grant Carmichael.

Grant uses shifting and clairsentience searching for a means to an end, until he touches Kristina Palmer. A jolt of normal excited him and for the first time, in a century, he’d have to navigate a relationship the old-fashioned way. But will the sweet paranormalist allow him, a shifter, to seduce her?
Excerpt:

Cold drops of liquid splashed against her cheek. She’d lost consciousness. How could she have let that happen?
Chills ran over her skin, creating a brief clamminess. Kristina couldn’t allow deep sleep for lengthy periods. Vigilance was required or she would become vulnerable to outside forces. Evil lurked and waited, for that fraction of time when her defenses were lax, to take advantage. Mentally she checked her safeguards, on the window ledges and thresholds. Outdoor lights activated, chimney flue, made from an iron bound by special spices, locked into place, and the local security agency’s system blinked green. Although the emerald lights were soothing, she tried to power off her brain. What had she forgotten? The smoky odor of the fire and her warm, tea-filled belly had weakened all of her shields, allowing her to segue to the other realms and open pathways to slumber. Yet, cold drops of water slid along her cheek.
The cold liquid slipped down her neck. Focused on her surroundings, she drew a deep breath, trying to get a scent and determine if a foreign entity risked entering her living room. No unusual sounds, just the quick blustery winds whipping leafless birch branches against the massive wall of windows. The repetitious click and snick of freezing rain provided a musical torrent, as a rough-callused finger stroked the side of her face. Her muscles tensed, tightening in preparation to fight whatever monster dared enter her home.
She met an amber stare straight on. A shiver of fear ran through her at the sight of a well-formed man. Over six feet tall, he had a sleek, golden cap of wet hair stuck to his perfectly shaped head. Naked, his sculpted muscles gleamed in the dim light provided by the combustion of red, blue, and white flames snapping on the wrought-iron grate housed inside the stone fireplace. She couldn’t tap into his thoughts. Well, this was different. She could fry him on the spot with a single bolt of lightning from her fingertip, though that weapon wasn’t her most potent. As a youngster she’d sent a playmate into another dimension. His molecules separated like falling confetti and disappeared in a violent flow of energy. Granted her mother found the missing boy and retuned him to his parents. A heart-wrenching experience, but it gave her a sense of power. She could create a force to send this handsome stranger somewhere into the galaxy.
Water had formed perfect circles, and clusters ran rippling along his powerful physique, leading her gaze from his shoulders to a tapered waist. Her lower region tingled with pleasant jolts of carnal need. From his relaxed, almost sappy expression she assumed he intended no harm, but still, a naked stranger in her living room did unnerve her. His penis rose. She lowered her glance. Pools of water collected near his large feet, soaking onto her burgundy Persian rug. Fight the attraction!
She jerked upright. Chilled, due to his touch leaving her or a result of the open French doors, she glanced at the human-designed security system. The jade lights continued to flash. Keep calm. She snatched her cell from beside the laptop and tapped the face. “Who are you? How did you get past—”
“Your time has arrived. You need to be strong,” he responded without answering her query.
She jumped to a stand and unsteadily held out the phone, keeping the face away from him. No bars, no signals, no help from that quarter. “I’ve notified the police.” “You are the one I seek, the one chosen. Prepare.” He leaned. His elongated nose bumped into hers, and he exhaled licorice-scented breath. Warm, firm lips touched hers. His arrogance and features reminded her of her gypsy relatives, but his kiss—straight from her dreams. Despite wanting another kiss, she drew the chair in front of her like a shield. He took a step away and smiled a cocky grin. “What do you mean you’ve been seeking me? Why?” The words would have been more authoritative if she could have focused on anything but his southern region. The pungent tang of red vine titillated her mouth. She licked her lips, wanting to taste him again. An unclothed, beautiful man, who favored a sweet, told her she’d been selected to…what? Her mind stuttered to a stop. The warmth of the flames didn’t heat her numb body as she drew random conclusions of what to do next.
He didn’t appear to be threatening. Could he simply be seeking help from a modern day crystal ball, rune-stone-carrying fortune teller? His eyes glittered as if he’d read her thoughts. He was beautiful, exactly what she’d look for in a mate, if she was searching for one. His amber gaze softened. Her stomach rioted with desires she’d squelched years before. Who or what was he? More importantly, why did her heart beat staccato at his nearness?
His well-muscled legs took him closer to the patio doors. Instead of walking out, he pivoted. “We need to save the world.”

All rights reserved by jj Keller
Fantasies with spice and humor.

The Tarot Card

thetarotcard_w1816_680

A stalled elevator.
A sexy gypsy.
A Straight-laced CEO.
Fate has a sense of humor.
Kerry McClure must secure her future as head of her father’s corportation. She needs to sign a contract with Rune Technologies to ward off a hostile takeover. When Kerry’s mistaken for a fortuneteller, she plays along, but could one night of fun jeopardize her CEO confirmation.
Stein Laxdale needs the business deal with McClure Ventures, or he’ll lose control of Rune Technologies to his ex-partner. He discovers Kerry McClure was the gypsy he gambled with and must decide if she is his biggest threat or his promise of a happily-ever-after.

Buy it today print or e-print: The Wild Rose Press 

Amazon:Print copy of The Tarot Card at Amazon

 

Excerpt:

Stein Laxdale walked down the corridor reviewing his notes. He spun around to find the elevators. Damn, somehow he had gotten lost in the maze of Yellow Fever. Who named a hotel, Yellow Fever? Who would arrange a high-level meeting at a hotel called Yellow Fever? Kerry McClure, that’s who.
Rune Technologies would not succeed without the deal with McClure Ventures. Everything he and Ian had worked for depended on this one business contract. So, if the man wanted to meet in a casino, then Stein would meet him in the casino. He’d meet him in the kitchen, if needed, to get the agreement signed.
He had to secure this deal.
A service elevator door swished open. He shoved the notes into his swim trunk’s pocket, folded the shirt over his forearm, and stepped inside. He’d never get used to jet-lag. He punched the dim yellow button, and took a step back as he ran a hand through his hair. He had to get some normalcy in his life.
“Stop,” a woman’s voice said, as a small hand pressed against his back.
He turned and took a pace back. A gypsy stood before him, a sexy gypsy wearing a long flowing orange and gold skirt, with a white off-the-shoulder blouse and no bra. He had to look, it was Vegas after all and he was a man in need of creature comforts. He guessed her to be about five-foot-six with breasts that didn’t appear to be silicone-based. They were full, smooth and pliable as they rose and fell as she breathed, pushing against the tiny bit of supportive elastic of the see-through blouse.
He raised his gaze, her head remained bowed. She smelled like an exotic flower. He placed two fingers under her chin and lifted her face. She pulled back. Startled from his touch? In the next blink, her eyes softened. When he lowered his hand to hang limp at his side, her stance relaxed. Magnificent dark brown eyes stood out on her beautiful, delicate face. The gold scarf wrapped around her head hid most of her light brown hair, but added a glint to her eyes. She shifted from foot to foot as she straightened her blouse and tightned the belted scarf around her tiny waist.
“I’m sorry… Magda?” he nodded toward her name badge.
She shoved her blouse up onto her shoulders, closing off the gap which had allowed him full view of her breasts. “Quite all right. You didn’t see me.”
Kerry didn’t correct him. Her name badge sported Magda because she would perform as a gypsy in the Magda tent for the library fundraiser. She ran her glance from his eyes to his bare chest to his tight swim trunks, keeping her gaze there a little too long. “Are you with the Chippendales?”
She clamped her teeth on her quivering lip to hold the nervous laughter inside. Goodness, he was gorgeous. His swim trunks weren’t the typical boxer style, but tight fitting, with bulging pockets. Bits of white paper peeked out of one and the imprint of a cell phone outlined the other.
“No.” He unfolded his shirt and slid it over his head. The elevator jerked to a stop.
She crashed into him and grabbed at his waist with both hands. He’d pushed his arms through the sleeves, but the cloth hadn’t dropped into place before her fingers slid over the heat of his stomach. The cords of his slim waist and muscular stomach made her want to explore. Her heart pounded against her ribcage.
Chart the unknown.

Larkspur at Long and Short Reviews had this to say: Holy Cow what a great read! Ms. Keller gives us a love at first sight story. Stein and Kerry make a great hero and heroine.
I loved the characters, they were well developed and enjoyable to get to know. The writing style was great and was a credit to the author telling such a well written story confined in 148 short pages.For more visit: buy

TRS
August 30, 2009

A true-to-life Kerry McClure had this to say:

“J.J.,
I just finished the book and I absolutely loved it!! I felt like I (Kerry McClure) was on a little vacation! I have told many friends about it so I hope they purchase it too!! My middle name is Jessica and my Maiden name was Cameron so the part about the limo driver and Jessica – I was seeing my ‘names’ everywhere! I really liked the end! Great twist and it explained so much! Thank you and good luck on your next novel!
Sincerely, Kerry McClure”

I must say, I don’t think a review could make me as happy as this one. Thank you!

Best Selling for over two months!

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Love Hurts

Falling in love with her fiancé’s best friend is wrong—right? Not in Shania Miller’s case it isn’t. The man she vowed to marry has a second fiancée and failed to remember her after returning from Iraq. Now, unable to trust in love, she answers lonely hearts calls, saving up
enough money to attend a university three hours away from the only home she’s known.

Broken hearted, Shania and her son move to Briarwood, Indiana. Financial struggles don’t make her lose hope, although her optimism wavers. Will a complete family – one with a mommy and a daddy for her son – ever become a reality?

Morgan Hardwick stood silently by as his friend broke Shania Miller’s heart.His faith allows him to help Shania, especially after she’s abandoned by her fiancé and family. Why then, did he hesitate when she announced her broken engagement and love for him on his wedding day?

Content warning, explicit sex scenes and violence.

LOVE HURTS

978-1-61650-189-1

  Buy

Can you ever really trust in love?

EXCERPT: He fidgeted with the blue tie while glancing out the church’s chancery window. Her rusty four-door jerked to a stop in a yellow zone of the parking lot. Shania jumped out of the SUV. Morgan’s heart pounded against his rib cage. Strands of brown hair caught in the wind fell from the knot at the nape of her slender neck, as she ran to the other side. The baby “everything” bag flopped against her side as she lifted Justin out of the car seat in the rear. Using tight fists, Justin rubbed his eyes, and then wiped his nose on her shoulder. While massaging his back, she kissed his plump baby cheek. There was no denying Shania Miller was an excellent mother.

A teenage girl wearing pigtails, jeans and a white t-shirt met Shania on the sidewalk near the bell tower. A quick transfer and Justin’s mouth opened wide as he struggled to grab his mother, kicking his feet in rebellion. Shania handed the bag to the tiny bit of female, and then kissed Justin’s forehead. Smoothing his hair, Shania said something to the youngster. A quick bob of her head toward the chancery window, then the overburdened teen pivoted to walk along the cement path. Shania glanced up and smiled. Love for her exploded inside him.

What had she wanted to say last night at the rehearsal? Her perfect lips drew his attention, making him miss most of her words. Unable to resist, his fingers had caressed her bare shoulder as he released her. He chastised himself for giving in and making the contact. Sometimes doing what was morally correct hurt.

“What are you staring at?” Tom asked from behind him. Hesitant to look away from the scene below, Morgan glanced at his best man, who was tugging his shirt at the neck. “Shania just arrived.”

Tom stared at him, reading him as he always did, and nodded. Morgan could never keep his thoughts hidden from him. “Are you sure you want to go through with this wedding? It’s not too late to call it off.”

Morgan grimaced. Was he that obvious? A few seconds later Shania rushed through the door and stood stock still, gathering her breath. His plebeian attendants hovered, mouths open, gawking at her. Granted, her sexy body was sheathed in a thin form-fitting dress.

“Leave us alone,” he ordered. The guys stopped their incessant ribbing for the first time in two days and dragged their feet toward the door.

Shania took his full attention. Though beautiful before, after giving birth to Justin she’d matured into a sexy voluptuous woman. Unlike her normal jeans and sweatshirt, she’d dressed in a revealing outfit and looked stunning. He’d been falling in love with her since the first day they met.

Should he call off the wedding as Tom had suggested? No, he and Shania could never be together, too many missed opportunities to become lovers. They would be buddies for life and remain simply friends. He tried to think mundane thoughts and proceeded to recite the Ten Commandments, waiting for her to speak her mind.

She dashed forward and halted within an inch of him. The scent of mint surrounded him, rushing out of her mouth, as she licked her perfect pink lips.

“Don’t marry her,” she demanded.

“What?” Commandments forgotten, he shook his head in disbelief and wonder.

ibook 

Trade Agreement

tradeagreement_w278_120

Falling in love with the next door neighbor–impulsive.
Kidnapped by her ex-husband–startling.
Traded for contraband on the high seas—definitely unexpected.

 

Photo-journalist, Georgina Barrister, realized she had little time left in this world when her ex-husband handed her over as partial payment for a shipment of illegal imports. Apparently being the perfect wife, the perfect hostess, and the perfect lover, wasn’t enough for him. How would she escape, while on the high seas?

Special Agent, Jake Callahan has always believed love at first sight is impossible, until he meets Georgina Barrister Kaplan. His assignment, to follow a high seas trafficking case and she was a prime suspect. 
Will he rescue her from the Russian pirate or will they lose their lives and a chance at happiness?

 

Larkspur/LASR said: She is a first class storyteller with a unique way of telling it. Her love scenes are evocative, sensual and sizzle on the page, while her romance between our hero and heroine is sweet and sensual.

BEST BOOK: Long and Short Reviews

Chapter 1

Atlantic Ocean

Shivers cascaded over Georgina’s body, the November cold penetrating her thin dress. She braced herself against the bumpy jolts as the speed boat hit rough water. The night was moonless, deep black ink surrounded them. The closer they got to the freighter, the faster her heart beat, a quick cadence to match the waves hitting the side of the vessel.

Georgina drew in a shaking breath and tried to lessen her grip on the rail of the boat as they pulled beside the ladder. Her fingers ached with the chill of tension. She glanced at the freighter. It was oh-so tempting to simply fall into the water, but she’d freeze to death or get eaten by sharks. No, the only logical means of escape was catching a ride on the gray metal whale floating in the dark night, on a black ocean, surrounded by a mysterious fog.

She glanced at Kandi, her ex-husband’s current femme-de-jour, dressed in a sleek strapless azure dress and spiked heels, then to Tristan himself. She’d loved him once, but now even looking at him made her colder. His fingers wrapped around the rail of the freighter’s ladder. He grabbed her hand and tugged her from the seat.

No.

Her spine tingled with dread. Tristan couldn’t be trusted. She knew better.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Georgina said. “You can let me off at the next port.”

Tristan gripped her hand tighter and pulled her toward the ladder. “Can’t.”

“Why not?” Georgina jerked Tristan’s arm, ready to throw him overboard. Did demons sink? Her stomach tumbled. Getting on that freighter would be a mistake.

Kandi slid beside Tristan and snarled, “Just get on the ship, Georgina, or I’ll throw your spoiled ass overboard and you can swim back to Virginia.”

Shocked at Kandi’s language and the threat, Georgina glared.

“It’s too late. There’s no going back…not for Gemma either,” her ex-husband spewed.

Damn him for using her best friend as a pawn.

Georgina’s heart rate went tachycardia. She blew slow breaths trying to slow the pace. She released his forearm, sat down on the padded boat seat, and crossed her arms.

“Georgina, climb the ladder.” Tristan’s jaws snapped together.

Kandi sighed and tapped her foot on the metal rail of the rocking boat.

Had Tristan really kidnapped Gemma? He had to be bluffing, but Georgina’s heart rattled against her chest. What if Gemma wasn’t safe? She’d already lost one baby, she couldn’t lose another. “I
decline.”

Tristan gripped her arm and jerked her upright. She reached up with her other hand and dug her nails into the tender skin of his palm.

“She’ll go,” Kandi said.

Georgina sneered at the two, pivoted, and clutched the nearest brass rung.

The three-inch heels clipped the metal, and she slipped on the third rail of the ladder. Determined, she tightened her hold and stepped to the next rung. Homeward bound. A precarious scramble on steps or fear of the unknown wouldn’t prevent her from returning to her little house and Jake. Thoughts of the sleepy little town of Nero intruded. She’d often complained about the boredom and photographing nothing but dog and garden shows. Well, she’d trade her current situation for some of that routine any day.

Jake, her lover. Her heart clutched a little in her chest. Was he searching for her? She maneuvered up one more rung. In the back of her mind, she hoped Jake would come to her rescue.

A wintery breeze blew up her dress and she shuddered. She was beyond chilled in the clingy little dress. She clutched a metal bar and pushed the hem down. Her foot slipped, and her spiked heel dug into Tristan’s fingers. She applied as much pressure as possible.

Tristan roared. He slapped her rear with such force she pressed flush against ladder. “Keep going, Georgina. Move it.” 

Bastard. She stepped to the next bar, releasing his hand.

Finally, she reached the top. Two goons, heavyweight bookends with matching blank
expressions, hauled her over the rail. Tristan crawled on deck and helped Kandi onto the platform.

“Come.” One of the goons, with a melodic Russian accent, motioned with his head.

It didn’t sound like a request.

The men led them down a staircase, through a corridor, and into a square, frigid room. A stainless steel table and two metal chairs were the only furnishings. One seat was occupied by a man she assumed to be Aleksandr Stypopas, the captain of this fine vessel.

Like the gentleman he was, Tristan sat down on the other chair. A bottle labeled IKON Russian vodka sat in the middle of them like a referee. Kandi stood behind Tristan, her hand resting easily on his shoulder. Georgina stood to the side, as close to the door as possible.

While the men talked, in Russian or Ukrainian, Georgina deliberated how to convince Aleksandr to return her to the States. He was as dark and mysterious in appearance as the freighter. His shaggy black beard seemed blacker as a result of the elegant gray shirt and pants covering his thin body. Would this nightmare ever end? It had to be a dream, because Aleksandr was wearing Armani for God’s sake, at midnight, on a freighter, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. He didn’t look like a man who did favors out of the goodness of his heart. Would he want money? She didn’t have anything to offer. Or did she? She shuddered at the thought. A raised voice captured her attention. What had she missed?

There was a palpable sense of menace in the air.
Had they walked into a trap? Would they all be killed?

Aleksandr’s voice was oily and his smile– insincere. “Kaplan, we’ve been comrades for almost a year. Why the mistrust?”

“Do we really trust one another, my friend?” Tristan took a sip of vodka.

From Georgina’s viewpoint, Tristan’s hand appeared to be trembling. Damn. There were some underlying messages being sent back and forth that caused her alarm radar to go off. She glanced at Aleksandr. He was smiling. Like a crocodile.

Okay, Tristan, it’s time to leave—now! You’ll have to drop me off at the next port.

“Are you calling me a thief?” Aleksandr’s deep, heavily accented voice filled the tiny room like a sonic boom. He bolted to his feet and his chair clanged to the floor. The angry red glow on his face, either from the heated argument or from the drink, accentuated his gray appearance. His lips virtually disappeared into the mass of black facial hair as he sneered.

Tristan’s face remained calm. “Of course. Aren’t we all? We take items and sell them for a profit. The buyers are not important, nor the nationality, nor the cause, nor how illegal the goods. We steal them for the thrill of making a deal. For money.” His blond cropped hair, light crystal-blue eyes, and winsome smile widened, giving him the appearance of the boy next door.

Georgina stared at his devilish dimples while trying to get a grasp on the situation. She’d fallen in love with his dimples, before she’d fallen in love with the man. Now she looked past the façade and wondered how she’d been so foolish.

“I’ve never cheated anyone in my life, and I resent the implication, Kaplan.” Aleksandr nodded his head to one of his henchmen at the door. Georgina’s fight or flight urge was strong. She tensed and glanced at the exit, calculating whether she could get to it before the goons caught her. What she would do after reaching the entrance, she didn’t know. But she desperately wanted to go through that door.

“Please accept my apology. I meant no offense.” Tristan calmly lifted his half-empty glass of liquid fire and held it out to Aleksandr, for a customary salute.

Aleksandr stared at Tristan, a long, intense, soul-searching glare. “Ah, none taken. However, I do insist the whore be given to me as a fair trade agreement.”
Aleksandr slid his black-eyed gaze down Georgina’s body and came back to stare into her eyes. His thoughts about her were as clear as the vodka between them: brown hair, heart shaped face, an ordinary body, and not worth his time. The brunt of his perusal landed on Kandi. Georgina’s heart rate slowed from its marathon speed. Aleksandr lifted his chair and lowered to the seat.

Kandi gasped, edged closer to Tristan, and reached toward her diamond and jade bejeweled bodice. She tossed her long auburn locks out of the way and pulled the limited blue silk material of the strapless dress higher, trying to cover her endowments as much as possible. Her nipples protruded further as a result of her efforts. She folded her shaking hands at her waist.

“Consider it done,” Tristan said, the words ice cold.
“Tristan!” Kandi screeched, her voice, shrill and full of shock. Her pale pink lips quivered, and her bare shoulders twitched back and forth. Tristan had offered her as a door prize.

Could this be happening? The scene was a Saturday B-movie event. People in real-life did not trade off their friends or family to get a shipment of…of…of whatever obviously illegal thing they were exchanging. The goods had to be contraband to make Tristan sweat. Georgina knew him well enough after six years of living together to recognize the signs of his anxiety. Regardless of how calm he appeared, he wasn’t in control of the situation.

Aleksandr’s eyes glittered with dangerous ecstasy. He turned his cold, calculating stare onto Tristan and leaned back in his chair. His jacket gaped, revealing an old fashioned .44 revolver in a gray holster strapped to the side of his chest. Her father had one just like it in his gun cabinet. The racketeer’s don’t-mess-with-me attitude made him the perfect bad guy for any mafia movie.

Georgina tried to ignore the chills running through her body. She pushed a dry wind-blown strand of hair behind her ear. In an effort to appear to be in command of her emotions, she clasped her hands in front of her and waited.

Kandi’s brown gaze turned toward Tristan. She reached over and grabbed his arm, spilling vodka onto the table top. He peeled her fingers loose one by one.
“You can’t do this!” Georgina didn’t care how much she angered either man. Part of the reason she had filed for a divorce concerned Kandi and all of the Kandis before her. But she was still a human and Aleksandr, regardless of his designer suit, was scum.

“Shut up, Georgina,” Tristan barked.

Aleksandr’s glance took in the clear pool of vodka, and a scowl formed on his hairy face.

Apparently he valued his alcohol.
“How barbaric. Stop this right now, Tristan,” Georgina reasoned, hoping he’d understand this was illogical and perverse.

The oppressive atmosphere grew weighty and thick. Sympathy coursed through Georgina. The black Russian wouldn’t give Kandi the spa treatment on this tub as she’d had on Tristan’s yacht. Tristan had to do something. Why didn’t he act?

“It’s done. Take her away,” Tristan spoke softly, as if the words were for his ears alone. He lifted his hand to his mouth and sucked the alcohol off. The goons started toward the door.

Georgina glanced at Tristan and witnessed the truth in his eyes. 

 

Trade Agreement can be purchased at: THE WILD ROSE PRESS or any other reputable book vendor.

 

Voted #3 best of the best books of 2009 by LASR.