Book Signing for the Introvert

Hi all,

Whew, tomorrow is my book signing at the Allen County Library.  My nature is to stand in the middle of the crowd watching how people interact and, of course, to create stories from those observations…but as an author I need to market.  Yeah, I know, the dreaded market word (to some not all).

For the past ten years my cheeks heat, my stomach rumbles and my heart pounds at a rate I should be fainting, but I stand or sit and try to sell my books. I love to write which entails merchandising. Most of all I love talking to fans about books, my books especially, including plots, characters and future stories.

If you’re in the Fort Wayne, Indiana area please join me at The Allen County Library-Main Branch for a chat or to gaze upon my red face. 11.11.17 from noon until 5pm.

 

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MysticLove_w8541_100

 

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Add a little something-something to your summer fun:Trade Agreement

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TRADE AGREEMENT
ISBN: 1-60154-491-X 8.15.09

Falling in love with the next door neighbor—impulsive. Kidnapped by her ex-husband—startling. Traded for contraband on the high seas—unbelievable.
Photo-journalist, Georgina Barrister, realizes she has little time left in this world when her ex-husband hands her over as partial payment for a shipment of illegal imports. Apparently being the perfect wife, the perfect hostess, and the perfect lover hadn’t been enough for him. What did he expect of her now, to be the perfect token? As a captive on a freighter, how will she escape?

Special Agent Jake Callahan believes love at first sight is impossible, until he meets Georgina Barrister Kaplan. However, his assignment on a high-seas trafficking case must overrule his feelings when Georgina becomes the prime suspect.

In search for the truth will they lose their one chance at happiness?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vxf1tPBXdSY

Trade Agreement

Available in Print and eprint:

jj Keller

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?

TRADE AGREEMENT
ISBN: 1-60154-491-X
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vxf1tPBXdSY

 

One of the Long and the Short of Its Best Book 
Every year, The Long and the Short of It likes to reward the best of the best, and this year your story TRADE AGREEMENT is a finalist.
 http://www.longandshortreviews.com/promo.htm

Excerpt 2:

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

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vxf1tPBXdSY

jj KELLER

Fantasies with spice and humor.

All rights reserved.

 

Trade Agreement

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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. 

Romantic, but Relationship Avoider, Ericka Gilmore

Mystic Love: characterization of Ericka.

Ericka Gilmore ached for a special love. Hidden deep down, for a brief insane moment, she dreamed of a husband, children, and pets. A perfect family. She came to her senses and shook off the unlikeliness. Love she could do, but engagement leading toward commitment…no. Forever wasn’t in her genetic code.

Men came in all shapes, sizes and personalities (some strange), and she always gravitated toward the wrong guy. None of her lovers progressed past the eventual clash of vow or not to vow. After a short fling with a ghost, who-like other males before left without a word, she found a loophole.

Cast a spell and bring forth a supernatural lover. She’d have constant romance without the messy entanglements of a relationship. In addition, the women of her family were cursed.

She convinces her BFF, Jacey, to chant a pricey abracadabra incantation. The result was a window slamming shut and lights flickering—possibly due to an approaching storm.

Jacey tried to dissuade her from continuing down witchy lane; but she had too much to lose.

The expression on her friend’s face …to repeat a cliché, ‘said it all’. She’d go on a date with one of her friends. Date arranged, Jacey left.

Ericka prepares for her only case.

As a new attorney in the area, her client list was dismal to the point her deflated bank account meant she had to win the case or sell her house. She loved Ames Mansion, with its soft southern charm and rambling acres. It was home and the first she’d ever owned. She needed the sense of posterity.

She had to win.

Too bad the guy was guilty. A high profile case would give her press, but not if she lost. What about morality? As an attorney she promised to defend. She didn’t like the guy. What if he proved to be responsible for the wrongdoing? What a mess.

A storm blew through by the name Joe Reeves. This handsome, motorcycle-riding nomad appeared on her doorstep and changed her entire world.

MYSTIC LOVE

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Joe Reeves: Deathwatch Cop

I’ve a new book, Mystic Love, with a release date of 10.26.16, and I can’t wait to introduce you to the characters. I  hope you grow to love them as much as I do.

This week I’ll be presenting Joe Reeves,a detective from Louisiana. He has a stellar work history and would be fighting crime today if it weren’t for a car accident.

Joe has one sister who is married to a psychology professor at a university in Pennsylvania. He has two nephews and a newborn niece, but do to his problem he hasn’t met the little tyke.

Joe Reeves: Deathwatch Cop

Flashing lights and the siren’s roar of a high-performance car during a chase had been an exciting part of law enforcement. The odor of burning rubber, fumes from the tailpipe of the criminal’s car and the thrill of putting him in jail was typically something Joe loved, but not on that day.

Adam, his partner, had insisted he drive. For the first time Joe sat in the passenger seat, gun primed and ready.

On reflection he regretted the mistake of allowing Adam to navigate the race. Broadsided by a failure-to-yield, his friend was instantly killed and Joe went comatose. The coma lasted for a month and left him with consequences.

Yeah, riding in a confined space gave him claustrophobia… and he dreamed of death.

Resolving the neurosis was simple–he purchased a motorcycle and stayed away from tight spaces.

The dreams were more difficult to manage.

At first he ignored the nighttime visions, believing them aftereffects of his coma. Then he had a prophecy of a kid being killed by a drive-by. He managed to locate the crime scene. His timing…he was to late.

The realization he could have saved him—if he would’ve taken responsibility for his mind’s trickery.

Something happened inside him. After the nervous stomach and subsequent puking, he experienced an empyrean light.

He paid attention to the visions, details and especially timing, and acted sooner.

The spark, fresh determination to succeed and to save victims, lasted six months. One of two results occurred each time he attempted to change the outcome of a vision: the bystanders labeled him a champion or they challenged him, claiming the circumstances made his activities suspicious. Either way he lost because people turned away.

His hero mindset dissipated when he concluded he couldn’t…it wasn’t humanly possible to keep the target from certain death.

He became a wanderer, trying to avoid remaining in one place for any length of time. His visions seemed to occur when he got close to a person. Emotional involvement set off a prophecy.

Running didn’t help, the predictions continued.

He had to make them stop.

Attempts were made to eradicate the foresight through religious avenues to no avail. No matter how bizarre or odd the gimmick he’d try. He would not allow another child to die.

The prophecies had to end.

Cyan, Indiana and a Native American healer became his aim.

MYSTIC LOVE AT THE WILD ROSE PRESS

MysticLove_w8541_med

Next week I’ll introduce Ericka Gilmore…she’s a jewel. I hope you’ll visit and make her your book  friend .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

STALKER

THE HUNT BEGINS:  http://cobblestone-press.com/catalog/author/jjkeller.htm

Stalker700x1059

Julie has a stalker. What’s worse? Everyone in her sleepy town thinks she’s the threat. Not to anyone’s life, to the video shoot bringing big bucks into town. After the mayor asks her to leave, Julie retreats to a secluded cabin. Trouble, however, follows her.

 

When his production company arrives in Jove, Match isn’t prepared for Julie James. His attraction takes on a new dimension when he discovers she’s a magical healer, and he needs a miracle to save his baby brother’s life.

 

As the deviant closes in, Julie and Match’s lives become entwined, but tragedy is hovering on the horizon.

BUY

 

THE ROMANCE STUDIO READERS AND VISITORS YOU CAN ENTER TO WIN A COPY OF STALKER BY ADDING A COMMENT BELOW. CONTEST ENDS MARCH 30, 2016.

 

 

Resolutions: Four Words

Four word Resolutions: Debunked
Weight
Exercise
Improvement
Friendship

 

At the beginning of the New Year I typically create resolutions…as most people do. Historically, I’ve found four easy enough to manage for an entire year.

After age 30 I added “lose weight” to the resolution list. As the metabolism slows the exercise must increase in order to maintain balance or eat less…but that’s a joke, as I enjoy cooking and especially savoring good food. So resolution number one…discredited.

Consistently exercise: the easiest of the four as I enjoy making my body stronger. I’ve discovered the importance of health, but time and motivation counteract my good intentions.

Help my children improve their lives: the most difficult because how does a mother know when to cease guiding and let the child make his or her own way. Making mistakes is a powerful learning tool. In retrospect I wished I had taught, “LISTENING” and “CONSEQUENCES” to a greater degree.

My third resolution is to be a better friend. As I grow more mature I learn the value of friendships and how harmony in one’s life evolves around health, wellness, family and friendship. However, friendship seem to mock me as we’ve moved to a larger city and I’ve found social groups are diverse and harder to infiltrate. I pledge to be a better friend to those I have—even if it’s via email and text.

Now, seventeen days into the year 2016 I’m debunking the four resolutions set. I refuse to let fear of the unknown dictate my thoughts, and I accept the reality of life…it ends without notice. I’m going to laugh, love and live so I’m going to embrace each day as if it is, indeed, the last.

How about you? Do you make resolutions? Stick to them?
Are you going to fling aside rules and cherish friends, family and time?

http://www.jj-keller.com
Fantasies with spice and humor.

TWITTER http://twitter.com/jjKellerauthor

FACEBOOK http://www.facebook.com/pages/JJ-Keller/263353331459?v=wall

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AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=JJ%20Keller&search-alias=digital-text&sort=relevancerank

GOODREADS:
https://www.goodreads.com/goodreadscomjj_Keller

Last Chance at Love

The Valkyrie and the Marine, Pippa’s Rescue, Memory of Love&
Trade Agreement, LASR Best Book, Prop in the movie RED. http://www.thewildrosepress.com print and eprint.
All rights reserved.

121 characters: Star-crossed #lovers: find happiness or will a wicked matchmaker’s antics keep them apart? #LastChanceatLove @jjkellerauthor

I just finished reading Last Chance at Love. I truly enjoyed it.
I loved that sexy cupid at the start, the gorgeous art work Sam and Alyson made, Tina’s growing understanding, and the depth of the emotion as the story built to resolution. A feel good factor of 10.
Daisy Banks
A Gentleman’s Folly
Marked for Magic
Christmas Carols

Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Last-Chance-at-Love-Keller-ebook/dp/B015VV68DA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1443629710&sr=8-1&keywords=Last+Chance+at+Love+by+jj+Keller

All Romance Ebooks https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-lastchanceatlove-1897353-349.html

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/last-chance-at-love-3

Cobblestone Press http://cobblestone-press.com/catalog/books/lastchance.htm

BN-Nook http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/last-chance-at-love-jj-keller/1122751405?ean=2940151215930

 

COMING SOON: STALKER

Last Chance at Love

Greetings! I’m off to have outpatient surgery on Monday, so for this blog I’m going to share a bit about my new release, Last Chance at Love.

Last Chance at Love

When Alyson McLeod returns to Jove, she never expects her high school sweetheart to knock on her front door. Sam’s arrival stirs memories she thought she’d banished long ago and awakens a fiery need no other man has been able to conjure.

The phoenix tattoo on Sam Crown’s arm immortalizes the woman he loved—and lost—long ago. Alyson’s return should excite him, but instead, she awakens a guilt he’s not sure even love can overcome.

Can these star-crossed lovers finally find happiness or will a wicked matchmaker’s antics keep them apart forever?

http://cobblestone-press.com/catalog/author/jjkeller.htm

EXCERPT:

Alyson swung her attention from her laptop to the handyman bent over the kitchen cabinet. Chris’ powerful, flawless arms enabled him to wield the screw gun like a pro, and durr, durr, durr added a pleasant melody to the room.

The maple cabinets had been an impulse purchase, but she rather liked how the lighter color made the space appear larger. A bonus to having her kitchen updated, Chris modeled the hero in her current book. His white T-shirt pulled taut across his broad shoulders as he stretched to secure a bolt from a toolbox a foot away.

Jeans sheathed his tight, perfectly formed rear. His thick thighs enabled Chris to lift heavy pieces of lumber while her hero’s enabled him to hold the heroine against the wall during a hot, sexy, clandestine encounter. Chris’ dark blond hair, styled in a buzz cut, accentuated his sharp cheekbones and granite jawline. Her hero had light brown hair that touched the tips of his ears. However, the cheekbones and stubborn jaw…the same.

In a lot of ways, Chris reminded her of Sam Crown, her boyfriend at Chilton Academy nearly thirty years ago. Sam had been the love of her life, the man who’d created a cancer in her heart no other man had been able to cure. Returning to her hometown had stirred memories of their ill-fated romance, and she’d embedded some of those details into her book. In doing so, in giving fictitious-Sam and fictitious-her a happy ending, maybe she could finally eradicate him from her thoughts.

She scooted her chair away from the dining table and evaluated the renovations. The noise and scenery inspired her. She wouldn’t leave the area despite the strong odors of glue and dust. She had to think of another job to keep her handyman on site after the current project ended on Friday. At least long enough for her to write twenty thousand more words. She hated the thought of her “hero” leaving before her book was finished.

The whirring of the motorized tool ended, and wood particles flew into her nostrils. A couple sneezes had her frantically searching for the napkin she’d left amongst the clutter on the table.

“Ms. McLeod?” Chris’ resonant voice matched his six-and-a-half-foot frame. The scent of man-sweat radiated from him, so unlike anything she’d become accustomed to over the course of her marriage. Jasper, her ex-husband, was the type of man to hire people to shift a piece of paper from one side of the desk to the other, so she’d rarely seen him perspire. Not even after he’d played polo, but he’d sure been sweaty when she’d found him naked in their marital bed with his assistant.

She looked away from the carpenter’s sculpted upper torso, and he chuckled, his tools clanking and tingling. Oops. She hadn’t looked away quickly enough.

She lowered her gaze to the keyboard. “Yes, I’m sorry, Mr.—”

“Please, call me Chris.” He nodded to her laptop. “How’s the book coming?”

She glanced into his eyes. The blue-grays were so reminiscent of Sam’s. She had to get a grip on her overactive imagination. Would she see Sam’s face in everyone, all over town? One of her high school friends had told her Sam moved away, hadn’t been seen since the funeral.

“Ma’am?”

“Sorry. Great. Good. The best one yet.”

Chris looped a thumb through a hanging hoop on his leather utility belt. “I’ll have a substitute here tomorrow. My son has a doctor’s appointment, and I need to check on another project. Sam will manage the installation of the countertop. It’s a simple task. He’ll arrive around ten in the morning.”

“No problem.” Good God, even her old flame’s name came into play.

“The sub’s my dad.” At the mention of his father, pride splashed across his roughened features. “He’s a professor.”

“Architecture or construction?”

“He’s a math professor at West Indiana State University. He’s been teaching a reduced load of classes this semester and going stir crazy with nothing to do. This project came at the perfect time.”

She wanted to jot down notes about mannerisms. Some of his phrasing was priceless. She lifted scattered papers and searched for an ink pen. Finding one, she slid a glance at him, put ballpoint to notepad and quickly scribbled to get the ink to infuse.

“I understand that happens,” she mumbled. “Maybe he needs a hobby?”

Wiping his hands on a red, thin square towel, he smiled and showed off his pearly whites. “Oh yeah, a hobby would be good.” He pointed to her computer, the cloth waving like a banner. “Is that the type of book you write? Hobbies?”

Heat infused her cheeks. She’d just finished a sex scene for the vamp character. Nope, not a book about typical hobbies. “Not exactly. I—”

The ding of a cellphone sounded and a light shone through his jeans pocket. He dug the phone out and glanced at it. “Excuse me. I need to take this.”

The younger man swiped a finger across the screen, and after a few mumbled comments, glanced at her as he took a few steps into the corridor. He wouldn’t have privacy in the Echo Wall hallway.

Alyson put the pad of paper in front of her keyboard and focused on the computer screen.

“Dad, Mrs. Clydesdale called and said you ditched her.” He paused.

She leaned forward, wanting to know more. Might be useful information for her book.

“Yes, she does look like her name, but you can’t keep dating women one time and…” Chris exhaled. “No, I don’t want to hear about that aspect of your life. I know. I’ll meet you at the usual place. Someday maybe we could meet at a coffee shop instead. Yeah, I miss her too. I’ll be on time.”

Alyson choked back a chuckle and lowered her laptop’s screen. In her own style of shorthand, she jotted notes. Busy trying to catch up from the previous interaction, she failed to hear more of the conversation. Usually, she couldn’t care less about other people’s phone discussions, but for some reason, the dialogue between Chris and his father had piqued her interest.

“Time to leave?” she asked when he returned.

“Yeah, something came up with my dad.” He tucked his phone back inside his pocket.

She smiled, hoping to reassure him she hadn’t overheard his conversation, at least not all of it. “I understand about complicated families.”

He nodded. “Oh, I forgot you’re a widow too, so you understand. Even after a year and a half my father’s adapting. He and my mother were really tight.” Chris packed up his tools. He slid screwdrivers into the loops of his utility belt and plunked heavier items into the metal toolbox.

She didn’t want to correct him about her single status. Perhaps her brother, Grayson, had declared her a widow. He’d arranged the construction company. Maybe Grayson didn’t want his friends to find out she’d left her husband. Divorcees had their own set of barriers and stigmas.

She dreaded the questions, the ones her friends would ask. From her experience, people were either predominately nosy or, the polar opposite, caring.

Chris looked barely twenty years of age, too young to lose a parent. Then again, maybe his parents had him later in life.

He returned to the table. Tools were no longer distributed throughout the kitchen. A sudden sense of loss snatched the warmth from her.

She slid the notepad forward. “I’m sorry about your mother. How did she pass?”

Chris hoisted his toolkit. “Cancer. She was an amazing woman.” His cell phone dinged. “Dad—Sam—will be here tomorrow around ten to do prep work and accept the delivery of the countertops.” He nodded toward the panel truck in the driveway, visible through the kitchen window. On the side, “Stiles Construction and Remodeling” was written in bold black letters over a sun rising on a blue sky. A ladder sat on top. “But we’ve remodeled a couple of kitchens, so he has skills.”

“Okay, thanks. I look forward to meeting Sam.” She stood, wishing she’d made more notes about the way Chris talked, some of the charming language he’d used and his magnificent facial expressions, but she always had next time.

* * * * *

The next day, Alyson tossed clothing on her king-sized bed. She’d collected a lot of designer eveningwear during her ten years of marriage. She selected a dress for the upcoming Wish Upon a Star charity event but added most of her gowns to the donation pile. She probably wouldn’t use formal attire as often now that Jasper was no longer dragging her to one black-tie affair after another.

With a smaller closet, she should have thinned out the older garments before moving back to Indiana. She’d donate the unused clothing to a local woman’s shelter. From the height of the pile, she’d need a truck to transport them. Most of the dresses could be converted into casual wear or business attire if their new owners were so inclined.

Dressed in her camisole and panties, she tried on summer outfits to determine if she needed new sizes. She didn’t want to think her hips had expanded or back fat had appeared. As a realist, she understood changes occurred in a woman’s body as she aged, but she didn’t want to admit she couldn’t keep a husband or that she’d gained weight in all the wrong places.

A knock sounded on the front door.

She glanced at the oversized medallion clock. Nine. Chris’ dad wasn’t due to arrive for another hour.

Her sleek emerald robe hung off the edge of a beige barrel table. She grabbed it and slid her arms into the sleeves as she scurried down the hallway and into the dining room. She bypassed the security panel and eased the white plantation shutter open to peer outside.

Her heart thudded to a stop. “Sam,” she whispered, not truly believing what she was seeing.

The man on the porch was Sam. Her Sam. The love she’d never been able to forget. The one who’d broken her heart over two decades earlier.

Last Chance at Love

http://www.jj-keller.com

Fantasies with spice and humor.

TWITTER http://twitter.com/jjKellerauthor

FACEBOOK http://www.facebook.com/pages/JJ-Keller/263353331459?v=wall

WORDPRESS https://romancewithjjkeller.wordpress.com

BLOGSPOT http://jjkeller.blogspot.com

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=JJ%20Keller&search-alias=digital-text&sort=relevancerank

GOODREADS:

https://www.goodreads.com/goodreadscomjj_Keller

Last Chance at Love 

The Valkyrie and the MarinePippa’s RescueMemory of Love&

Trade Agreement, LASR Best Book, Prop in the movie RED. http://www.thewildrosepress.com print and eprint. 

All rights reserved.LatChanceAtLove-squarebutton

Bark at the Moon

Bark at the Moon.

Last weekend I attended a book signing at Allen County Public Library. The library’s contemporary structure with its raised roof and glass ceilings allowed sun to filter into the halls. Beautiful artwork and plasmas exhibiting historical events added to the thrum of noise from visitors and fellow authors. I decorated my table with a sage green tablecloth embroidered with tiny gemstones and beautiful books drew a crowd. Not only did I have a wonderful time talking to fans and making new ones, I spent quality time with my BFF of several years, Ramona.

During the down time, we discussed my current book, Memory of Love the sequel to The Valkyrie and the Marine and Pippa’s Rescue. We talked about my syllabus for the writing class I’m teaching in the spring. We both attended Ball State University. Ramona acquired an MA in Community Education and my MA is in Educational Development for Public Service, so there is an overlap of information.

My friend suggested an icebreaker, writing on slips of paper “I am” topics. People get to know each other without the in-face-here-I-am awkwardness. Great idea, right?

From this conversation we moved onto how to relieve stress. Both of us have had changes in our lives, drastic life altering changes. Some types of stress relievers we discussed were music therapy, breathing and meditation, laughing (we are experts). Addition methods of altering our stress levels was to watch aquarium fish, pray, walk a dog, crafting, art work, dance, solve a cryptogram puzzle, write in a journal, surround yourself with positive energy and the new one we created: bark at the moon.

When stress is overwhelming…go outside and bark. Howl at the moon until your throat hurts, and you’ve cleared your head of any noxious thoughts.

It works…give barking a chance. Note: turn up the music or your neighbors might think you strangeor if you live in the city go to the rooftop and shout.

The best stress reliever is reading a great book. Here is one you can download for free in January, 2014.
Pippa’s Rescue
Determined to bring his friend’s killer to justice, Basil’s search takes him to a horse rescue ranch and the beautiful owner, Pippa Wilson. Is she hiding Wilson in order to keep her livestock in feed?

PippasRescue_w7614_medPippa must find her brother before the bank puts her home in a holding pattern and eventually financial ruin. When a gorgeous Marine arrives, she can’t fight the attraction. She must use her wits to outsmart a Special Forces Captain.

Skogul, Valkyrie leader of the first squad, is to offer immortality to one of the humans she enjoys observing. Except, watching science fiction on the big screen holds more appeal. Will she let her assignment slip through the cracks and answer to Odin himself?

Pippa’s Rescue will be made available for free for 5 days during the following period: January 21-25, 2014 KDP select through Amazon

Basil wants justice. Determined to find the man who turned on his own unit and caused the deaths of many brave men, Basil tracks him to a Horse Rescue Ranch. But the ranch owner is the traitor’s sister, and she’s not talking. Caught off guard by her beauty–not to mention the bizarre arrival of a leather-clad Valkyrie–Basil has a hard time keeping his mind on his mission

Animal rights activist Pippa Wilson must find her brother before the bank forecloses on their rescue ranch. When a gorgeous Marine arrives looking for him too, she tries to resist the attraction–but will her heart listen?

Product Nbr: 7614 
Title: Pippa’s Rescue 
Series Name: 
Theme(s): Animals 
SubGenre(s): Suspense, Fantasy 
Imprint: Faery 
Length: Miniature 
Rating: Spicy 
Keywords: Valkyrie, Asgard, Valhalla, horses, Marines, rescue 
Page Count: 136 
Word Count: 33333 
Digital Price: 3.99

jj Keller
Fantasies with spice and humor.
http://www.jj-keller.com
The Valkyrie and the Marine, 2012, coming March 25, 2014 Pippa’s Rescue
Shadow of the Hawk/Dark Sun. He’s almost an angel and she’s pure temptation.
http://cobblestone-press.com/catalog/author/jjkeller.htm
Trade Agreement, LASR Best Book, Prop in the movie RED. http://www.thewildrosepress.com print and eprint.
All rights reserved.

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