Author Archives: Jodi

Meet the characters in JOLT: Seth Dickson

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Pulled off balance she stumbled sideways, watching Tate and Nellie heading out without her. She looked to the one who waylaid her, already suspecting whose hand was still wrapped around her arm. Seth Dickson grinned down at her, his blue eyes shining.

“I say, Miss Torres, you’re looking prettier than a picture this morning.”

Lalita swallowed. “Mr. Dickson, if you’ll excuse me, my ride is leaving.” She pulled her arm from his grip.

He put his bowler on his head. “Aw, the doc won’t leave you. You can talk a minute with me.”

The crowd had mostly gone out the door, and Lalita turned to follow. “I’m sorry, but—”

Dickson caught her arm again. “Now hold on, there’s no reason to be afraid. I don’t hold any grudges against your people.” He grinned again. “Especially when they’re as fine as you.”

Lalita’s brows knit together as she tried without success to pull away again. “My people?” Her volume was rising. “What are you talking about?”

“Seth, I don’t believe the lady appreciates your attention.” Lalita looked to the door, so relieved to see Tate striding toward them.

Seth let loose of her arm and backed up a step.

“Now, Doc, you said she wasn’t your woman, and I don’t mind if she’s a bit addled.”

Lalita’s jaw dropped. “I am not addled, you over-bearing asshat!”

Tate’s eyes grew wide as he tried to move her toward the door. “Lita, this is a church.”

Dickson just grinned as he followed them out of the building and down the steps. “She’s got spunk. That comes from the Injuns.”

Meet the characters in JOLT: Dr. Tate Cavanaugh

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Tate watched his patient, wondering if he should take her to the hospital in Denver—a journey that would take him away from his practice for several days. She was still out after twenty-four hours, and he feared a full out coma. He and his housekeeper, Mrs. Kettler, had been monitoring her around the clock, and even little Nell had stayed with her, giving her droppers of water and broth at regular intervals.

After the discovery that “he” was a “she,” he’d sent the Hill brothers to fetch Mrs. Kettler but proceeded to undress her himself down to her underthings—the strangest, skimpiest underthings he’d ever seen. If she hadn’t been in desperate need of warming up, he would have waited for his housekeeper for the sake of propriety, but he’d told himself that the young woman’s health was more important, and he was, after all, a doctor.

Mrs. Kettler had arrived in time to remove the last of the girl’s wet clothes and get her dressed for bed in one of his late wife’s nightgowns.

As surprising as her underclothes had been, the colorful flowered tattoo that covered her right shoulder and upper arm had captured his attention the entire time he had been warming her in the bath, and even now his eyes drifted to the spot, even though he couldn’t see it through the long-sleeved gown.

He couldn’t help but appreciate the artistry—he’d never seen a tattoo like it—but was shocked that a woman would have such a thing permanently done to her body. Not to mention the piercings on her earlobes. One of her earrings was missing, but the hole was still plainly there. With such bodily decoration, he feared that she had spent time in a house of ill repute. The cross necklace she wore at least spoke to the possibility of redemption.

He sat back, letting his gaze rest on her peaceful face, her long dark lashes resting against her high cheek bones. Perhaps it’s all merely for tribal distinction.

Another curiosity was her hair. Not even the Ute men wore their hair so short. His eyes narrowed remembering the union suit she’d been wearing with the prospector’s slogan on the backside. Was she trying to pass for a miner? He smiled. Better remove the other earring, then, missy.

 

Meet the characters in JOLT: Lalita Torres

Manitou clock

“Excuse me, did you say the ‘time’ you come from?”

She nodded.

“The time. Not the place.”

“Well, the place is different, too, since I’m not from around here.”

“Where are you from?”

“Missouri. Close to Kansas City.”

He leaned in again. “When are you from?”

She spread her hands dramatically. “The early 21st century.”

Tate just stared.

Lalita nodded. “That’s right, man from the 19th century,” –she gave an exaggerated wink– “you’re looking at a 21st century woman.”

Suddenly she pushed back from the table, rose, and struck a pose with one hand in the air and one on her hip. Then she started to sing. “I can bring home the bacon”— she moved her hips a quick left and right– “fry it up in a pan”–she slinked toward him, spinning the cord tie at her waist—” and never ever let you forget you’re a man,” –she sat right on his lap, throwing her arms around his neck– “ ’cause I’m a woman.”

Tate was speechless, but Nellie clapped, and Lalita was biting her lip, trying to keep from laughing. She put a hand to the side of her mouth as she whispered, “I don’t know how much competition there is for airtime, but that should keep us off the editing room floor.”

Tate’s heart sank. This beautiful, young woman was absolutely off her chump.

Get er done!

Right now my house is a complete disaster.

A painting project plus a cover photo shoot plus Christmas decorations take-down plus a headcold= one great big mess.

But usually it’s not. Usually, you could drop in on me almost any time and I wouldn’t be embarrassed by the state of my home. And I don’t spend every waking minute cleaning either. In fact, I write two 100,000 word novels a year and record, edit, and master two other books every year.

Recently, I’ve seen a chore plan floating around facebook, and even for a clean freak like me, it seemed completely overwhelming. So I’m going to share my secrets.

Live in the NOW. There’s no later.

You ate a meal, so you clean the dishes NOW, not later. The stovetop is cleaned NOW. The counters are wiped down NOW. Thnk of the cooking, the eating, and the clean-up as one project. You’re not allowed to leave the kitchen until it’s clean.

When the dishwasher is clean, unload it NOW. Don’t just take out one clean dish and leave the rest. It will only take 5 minutes to get it all put away.

The mail is sorted NOW. It isn’t laid down in a massive pile of collected mail. As soon as you bring it in the house, it is sorted into important and not. The not is thrown away. The important is taken to your desk.

Leave a room the way you found it.

When you leave a room, look back. Could you grab those dirty socks, dishes, shoes, knitting project, etc. and carry them to where they belong? You know you could, so do it.

Make your bed as soon as you get out of it

Okay, you can go potty first, but this just sets the tone for your brand new organized day that you are in control of. Those blankets, comforter and pillows don’t control you. You control them. You put them in place.

Corral clutter and demand that it stays there.

We all have that one place in our space that is prone to clutter. For the ladies, it’s probably our bathroom or vanity counters containing all our lotions, mousse, nail polish, and beauty products. For the guys, it’s their work bench that is constantly strewn with tools and projects. Often, some organizational baskets or drawers are needed, but we still need to be diligent in putting them back where they belong rather than just tossing them on the counter willy nilly.

Schedule weekly chores

I do bills and enter receipts in Quicken every Wednesday. EVERY WEDNESDAY. Only something unexpected keeps me from doing this every single Wednesday. If some crisis occurs, I do it on Thursday. Nuclear war would have to break out to push it to Friday.

I dust mop my living room, dining room, and kitchen every Saturday morning. I clean my wood laminate floors every week but Shark my kitchen floors and clean my downstairs bathroom every other week. The weeks I don’t Shark the floors, I vacuum my lower level. My dear hubby does the upstairs, but if he didn’t, I’d plan a different day for vacuuming and cleaning the bathrooms. I do laundry on the weekends. The point is to HAVE A PLAN AND STICK TO IT.

Note that I don’t have a special day to clean the kitchen (other than the floors) because the kitchen gets quickly cleaned after every meal.

I don’t have a day to de-clutter, because de-cluttering is a constant cleaning up after yourself. And I dust when I see dust and feel strongly about dusting. I don’t plan that one.

And yes, there are things that you only do once or twice a year like cleaning the garage, but if you try to schedule everything, the list will look too big, and you won’t do anything.

If even my simple plan is like a foreign language, then try adopting one change at a time. Start with never going to bed with an uncleaned kitchen. Once you have that habit set, concentrate on another area without stopping the first. Pretty soon, these will just be second nature.

If something is distracting you from your goals, use it as a reward for a job completed. I try to never turn on my computer until after I’ve exercised, taken a shower, and am all ready for the day. This is a tough one for me, but E-mail and Facebook could take up my whole morning if I let it.

So, here’s to 2016. Life’s messy, clean it up.

 

My Top Ten Reads For 2015

I read just shy of thirty books this year, although I laid down and didn’t finish at least that many again. Since I set a goal in January to read fewer badly written books, I’m very proud of myself for laying these down and moving on. And still I only found ten books out of the list that I gave 5 stars to. Am I picky? Yep. I consider characters, dialogue, plot, over-all writing quality, and un-put-downability with every review I write. These were the cream of this year’s crop:

Okay, I admit to getting a bit stuck on Tamara Leigh this year, but this woman is a seriously great historical romance writer. She took five of the ten spots with her Age of Faith series.

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For YA fantasy/sci-fi, you can’t beat Lia London’s Gypsy Pearl series. I read the first two at the end of last year and couldn’t wait for the exciting conclusion. Great characters and a well-written, imaginative storyline put this solidly in my top ten.

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Kathy Clark was a newly discovered author for me, and this book has just the right amount of work-related details, suspense, and romance.

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I’m not sure why it has taken me so long to discover this series by Lois McMaster Bujold since I’m a huge fan of her Vorkosigan series, but I’m certainly glad I tumbled upon it. Rich details of her medieval world and a very complicated and intriguing theology set the backdrop for a character-driven story that will keep you reading.

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And now for a classic. For wit dished up with a dose of historical culture, you just can’t beat Mark Twain.

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The last on my list isn’t fiction, but it was as intriguing and suspenseful as any story I’ve read this year. For any who have wondered if miraculous healings happen today, Robby Dawkins says, “Yes,”

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So that’s my list for 2015. What books did you read this year that you loved?

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Cover front NEW

Interior designer Amanda Billings is plagued by nightmares but determined to press on as if her ex-boyfriend hadn’t turned her world completely upside down.

Ad man Mick Thompson believes Amanda is the one to make him forget the fiancée who dumped him and prompted his move to Kansas City from Napa Valley.

As Amanda begins to transform his depressing life right along with his sterile apartment, Mick is ready to jump on the relationship road with her, only to find out that the past is tagging along.

Interiors By Design contrasts manipulation and selfish obsession with true love and sacrifice. It is a story of two people’s struggle to escape past mistakes and move forward to make a new life together. 

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Cover of Rocky Mountain Angels

Rocky Mountain Angels

When Mari Baker moves in next door, Benjamin Rhodes knows she’s the girl for him. Who cares if she’s ten years older than he is. She’s perfect.

When Mari Baker moves in next door, Eli Rhodes is captivated by her fiery spirit and brunette curls. Sure, she’s nothing like the singles bar hook-ups he usually entertains, but someone like her could make a man change his ways.

When Mari Baker moves in next door, Joe Rhodes is unofficially engaged to Beth Havland, so why is this little snippet of a woman getting under his skin? Yeah, she’s sweet and smart and shares his faith, but he and Beth have made plans. At least they’ve talked about making plans.

When Mari Baker moves to Colorado Springs, she’s looking for a fresh start–a new path. The first path she walks, however, is up the steps of the big Victorian house next door after she slips on the ice and throws her purse down the storm drain before she even has a chance to open the door of her new rental. The Rhodes brothers become her rescuing angels that night, and the next path that forms is the one between their house and hers.

Sept. 1-8  .99

front coverJoe Rhodes had it alla sweet, beautiful fiancée, a successful construction business, and a three story home that he and his brothers had restored to its full Victorian splendor. Then the housing market collapsed, sending his business to the brink of bankruptcy, and he had to sell the house to save the business. At least he still has Mari.

Mari Baker is just a month away from marrying the man she calls her “dazzling Joe” when she repeatedly notices a tall, mysterious stranger watching her. Could he be a stalker? Suddenly she finds herself alone with the man, and nothing will ever be the same again.

Joe isn’t sure what to believe about the guy in the trench coat. Mari certainly isn’t making any sense about it all. How can she expect him to believe such a ridiculous story? Before, he would have said he trusted her implicitly, but now he isn’t sure. It’s just too far-fetched. Maybe he has lost it all.

Mari knows she sounds crazy, but Joe just has to believe her. She can’t do this alone.

Sept. 24-30  .99

RMR_Cover frontBen Rhodes was depressed. His ex-girlfriend had betrayed him, then skipped the country.

Rhonda Holloway spent a year trying to help him–a year falling in love with him.

Ben didn’t notice.

With the help of an anti-depressant, he wakes up to the possibilities, and as he reassesses everything she’s done for him, love blooms in his heart. But Rhonda is gone on a European book tour.

And comes home engaged.

Fear wins the day as love is denied. Truth is pushed aside for the sake of integrity. Hope goes in and out with the tides of time and the words of one small boy.

One very special boy.

Meet the Characters in Rocky Mountain Redemption.

RMR_Cover front

Ben:

Ben was reluctant to move his arm away from her shoulder, but he straightened and immediately felt the loss. “So, you never answered my question. How’s Paris?”

She hesitated, and Ben tried to make eye contact, but she was looking down at James. “Paris is Paris. It’s beautiful and frustrating and delicious and… and nerve wracking. It’s the most exciting and terrifying place I’ve ever lived.”

Ben gave a little snort. “Good fodder for book writing, I guess, but wild horses couldn’t drag me there.”

Rhonda looked at him out of the corner of her eye, smiling. “Well, I don’t suppose they would, Rhodes, unless they were really good swimmers.”

He bumped his shoulder into hers. “You know what I mean.”

She bumped back. “Yeah, I know. You’re very happy in your little apartment in your little town, working in your little zoo.”

Hey, wait a minute! I’m only in a little apartment, because that’s what I can afford, and while Colorado Springs doesn’t compare to Paris size-wise, it’s not exactly a village. And who wants a zoo it takes you all day to see? I think it’s the perfect size.” He dropped his voice and crooned to the baby. “Someone’s become a high and mighty, Parisian, Marcus.”

Rhonda:

So you like it there.”

Rhonda realized that she was chewing on a nail and forced her hand to her lap. “For the most part. It’s… it’s really different. I’ve made a lot of faux pas, but I’m learning.” She nervously ran her fingers through her hair, trying to think of a safe topic. “I don’t quite have the hang of the whole cheek kissing greeting yet, and sometimes I forget to say, ‘bonjour.’” She said it with a a very proper accent and a lilt in her voice. “You know, sometimes my mood just isn’t that perky. Sometimes I just say, ‘bonjour.’” She delivered the word rather flatly. “But that’s not acceptable, you know. Store owners have been known to close up their shops and weep for a ‘bonjour’ delivered without the proper feeling.”

Louis:

She lowered herself to the cool tile floor. Lying on her back, she pointed her chin toward the ceiling, pinching the bridge of her nose. There wasn’t enough room for her to stretch out completely, so she ran her feet up the open door, the bright red shoes mocking her.

“Well, ma chatte, I thought we would have a romp after we went out,” —Louis appeared in the doorway, looking at her legs— “but I see that you can’t wait for—” He cut himself off as his gaze tracked her body to her face. “Mon dieu, Rhonda, what happened now? You are so maladroit!”

Rhonda still had a long ways to go to be fluent in French, but that was a word she knew. Clumsy. “Louis,” she mumbled behind her wad of tissues, her eyes closed, “it’s the shoes you buy me. I just can’t walk in them.”

She heard him sigh. “I believe that’s what I just said, mon cher.”

Tyler:

Tyler laid the fish in the skillet one by one. “And why do you suppose that is?”

Ben crouched down, feeling a lurch in his stomach. “You’re right, I was afraid. My last relationship took me a long time to get over. I was… hurt.”

Tyler rose and picked up the kettle of fish innards, shaking his head. “Not more than you are now, I bet.”

Ben watched him walk the trail to the river as the fish sizzled in the skillet. Ben yelled after him. “You said you changed careers. What did you do before?”

Tyler turned back, smiling. “Counseling,” he yelled. “I helped poor saps like you.” He returned his attention to the trail. “I’ll send you my bill.”

Weston:

After a moment, Weston spoke again. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

Rhonda shifted uncomfortably, moving her shoulder bag from her arm to her lap. “Why do you want to know? It’s not a particularly interesting story.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Now that I do not believe. You have been nothing but interesting from the moment you nearly crashed on the ice this morning.” When she didn’t respond, he waved a hand in acceptance. “I am sorry. I do not mean to pry. I mean, who am I? We just met, and even though I saved your ass today —both on the ice and on the beach— I would not want it to be said that Weston Murdock was a snoop.”

Bonnie:

When she was finished, she packed up her case and followed Ben to the gate. “So now’s the part where I go back home and wait for you to call the male veterinarian you interviewed yesterday, because a woman couldn’t possibly do this job.”

Ben spun with eyebrows raised. “Miss Gatlin, I never said—”

You didn’t have to. It’s been in your eyes since I walked into your office.” She gestured back to the barn. “Sure, I can stitch up a little goat nose, but what about when something a bit larger needs treatment? What then?”

Ben looked into her sea green eyes and smiled. “Okay, I admit, the thought has crossed my mind that you are a bit of a light weight, and—” Before Ben knew what hit him, Bonnie had dropped her case, grabbed his hand, twisted under his arm, and flipped him over her shoulder. He lay on his back in a snow drift, trying to regain his breath.

She stepped over his waist and looked down. “If you know what you are doing and have a rapport with the animals, you never need to use your muscles.” She smiled. “But I do have a few, just in case.”

FREE in the Kindle Store through March 31!!

Interiors coverMick, in jeans and a freshly pressed white button shirt, surveyed his living room one more time. There really wasn’t much he could do to improve the look of one beige sofa and a TV—only make sure there wasn’t any dust on them—so he forced himself to go into the kitchen and sit at the table.

It had taken him the better part of a week to get up the nerve to call Interiors by Design and ask for Amanda Billings. She wasn’t there, so someone else had made the 10:00 a.m. appointment for her to come to his place for an evaluation.

And that time was now.

Mick looked at the clock on the stove. Well, nearly now. Play it cool, Mickey boy. You’re just a guy who needs some throw pillows.

Mick was surprised at how much he had thought about this girl in the last week. After feeling nearly dead for a year, it scared him a bit to feel his heart beating and blood coursing through his veins.

The doorbell rang, and Mick jumped as if it were the last thing he was expecting. He walked to the door, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans as he went. He reached for the knob, took a deep breath, and pulled the door open.

The redhead he had been waiting for smiled and held out her free hand. “Hi, I’m Amanda Billings from Interiors by Design.”

Mick seemed to be frozen. How did I miss those green eyes before?

Ephesians_front

The Church looks ridiculous to unbelievers. I know I’m married to one.

They see a people loosely bound together by belief in God, but fighting about every other detail.

They see a people that professes a powerful God that seems to be completely impotent to answer even the smallest prayer.

They see leaders in the Church giving lip service to love, but there’s no action behind the words.

In short, they see Christians not the same as your average Joe, but worse than your average Joe. They see a people who are not honest with themselves or anybody else.

The Church sends missionaries to the far corners of the globe but can’t seem to reach the average Joes right under its nose. The Church as a whole the body of Christ has become lost and ineffective.

This didn’t just happen. The Church has had a target on its back ever since the second chapter of Acts.

Paul knew that the Church needed certain things if it was going to be able to stand against Satan’s schemes and be effective in reaching the world for Christ, and he outlined them in his letter to the Ephesians. It is God’s plan, purpose, and power for the Church.

How to Review a Book

Screenshot from 2015-03-25 22:05:02There is a skill to reviewing a book. The point is not merely to like or dislike.  It is not to compare the writer’s perceived morals to your own. It’s a place for critical analysis. Since most reviews give you a chance to rate them with 1-5 stars, may I suggest 5 points to consider when rating.

Writing Quality. Is the description clear? Do the sentences flow? Are certain words or phrases overused? Does the writing pull you into the story or kick you out with weird words and stilted phrasing?

Dialogue. This is a specific type of writing quality. Does it sound natural? Does it fit each particular character? Is the inner dialogue tedious or goofy?

Characters. Are they interesting? Are at least some of them likeable?  Do they grow and change in some way over the course of the book? Are the bad guys realistic or merely caricatures? Are they consistent? Your job isn’t to judge their morality unless it’s inconsistent with what the writer has established. We expect the villains to behave badly. We hold our heroes to a higher standard. They can fail and fall and be tempted, but in the end, we expect some kind of honor.

Storyline. Is the story entertaining? Does it have a good flow? Do the plot points make sense? Does it drag at any point?

Un-put-down-ability. Does it keep your interest? Is it hard to put down? Did you stay up late reading it? Does it call you back to it, if you do have to put it down.

Sometimes, you might feel the writer deserves not a single star for writing quality, but other books might warrant, say, half a star. Go through each of the 5 points, assigning whole or parts of a star for each, then add them up. If you end up with 3 1/2 stars, then you must decide whether to round up or down based on your overall feeling about the book.

Remember, not every book is written for you. Just because it’s “not your kind of book,” does not mean it deserves 1 star. If it truly isn’t your kind of book, don’t read it, and let those rate and review it who are more in tune with this genre.

I don’t read BDSM books just so I can get grossed out in the first chapter and self-righteously give it 1 star. I’m not the audience for that book. I won’t read it, rate it, or review it.

Not every Christian book is written for the Baptist minister’s wife who has never been in a bar in her life. Sometimes Christian fiction is written for the teen on the edge. The one who wouldn’t read Amish fiction if it were the last reading option on earth. The one that has free ideas about sex even while she sits in the pew on Sundays. The one who needs to know that, yes, both men and women can be tempted in the area of sex. And that, yes, it can be a real struggle. And, yes, it’s a temptation that can be overcome.

If you find yourself judging the book’s storyline and language too harshly, you are probably not that book’s audience. Lay it down and walk away. Resist the urge to inflict your brand of judgement on it. Some messages are not for you.