Guest blog for [email protected]

For August 29, 2014

If You Could See My Internet History

By Ashley Ladd

If you could see my Internet history… Whew! It would probably be as bad as if you could read my mind.

We authors plot sabotage, adultery, bombings, murders, terrorist events, espionage and a host of terrible, horrifying things. I can’t speak for other authors, but I think about my plots most of the day, every day. When I’m at home (never at the day job!) I Google a lot of weird, oddball, even highly questionable things. Sometimes I wonder if I would get in trouble if the law was ever to examine my computer history.

Have you ever seen the old Disney movie The Misadventures of Merlin Jones, where Tommy Kirk plays an oddball college student that gains the ability to read minds? When he reads the mind of the judge he tunes into a murder being plotted. Not knowing the judge is also a mystery writer who is plotting his current novel, Merlin reports the judge to the police.

That’s exactly what would happen to me if someone was to read my mind at the wrong time, which is most of the time. Or if they were to look at my Internet history.

For example, when I’m writing a male/male romance a gazillion GLBT sites will pop up. When I’m writing about BDSM, then those type sites will pop up. If I’m plotting a murder sites will pop up about various murder methods such as asphyxiation, strangulation, firearms, bombs…

I research every little thing in my books so there will be oddball links too such as housing prices in different neighborhoods, restaurant menus in the various cities where my books are set, a million pictures of bikinis or hairstyles or shoes.

I doubt most people would want to read my mind, or follow my Internet footprints. You’ll never know what you’ll find. You’ll be left with more questions than answers. But it might be quite interesting should you dare.

BLURB
Forty-four year old Julie Weston has loved Timmy and James since her college days twenty something years ago. She's fantasized about both all these long years, never able to choose between them.

Hoping Tim and James will attend, she attends their college marching band reunion. When both men show up her dreams are answered. They're sexier than she imagined and she hopes they won't be disappointed by her older self.

It turns out both men came just to see her again and neither is happy about the other’s presence. They fight over her, confusing her more than ever. It takes a hot ménage…or two…for her heart to decide which one she’s in love with.

EXCERPT:

A silhouette fell across her, waking her up from her nap and a husky voice washing over her. “You’re going to be sorry falling asleep out here. This sun is brutal.”

Groggy, she shaded her eyes and looked up at the shadowy figure in awe. “Timmy, is that you? You’re early.”

He leaned down, his body still sinewy and strong, and held out his hand to her. Nary a wrinkle marred his matured face. Only a few laugh lines fanned out from his eyes which added to his attractiveness. “You too. Is that a sign?”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. Since when did Tim believe in signs? “A sign?”

“That you want to see me, be with me in private, as I want to see you and be with you in private.”

She swallowed hard and put her hand in his, her heart somersaulting when they touched for the first time in more than twenty years. A maelstrom of emotion washed over her and she didn’t want to mess up what was probably her last chance to be with him, so she wasn’t about to play coy. 

Slowly, seductively, she licked her lips. “You read my mind.”

As he helped her up, his gaze smoldered into hers. He dragged her alongside him and his hard cock swelled into her side. He nipped her ear then whispered huskily, “Your nipples are puckering through your suit. I’d call that a sign.”

Ashley Ladd lives in South Florida with her husband, five children, and beloved pets. She loves the water, animals (especially cats), and playing on the computer.

She's been told she has a wicked sense of humor and often incorporates humor and adventure into her books. She also adores very spicy romance, which she weaves into her stories.

How you can contact Ashley:

[email protected]

http://www.ashleyladd.blogspot.com

https://www.facebook.com/ashleyladdauthor

http://www.twitter.com/ashleyladd

https://www.goodreads.com/AshleyLadd

http://www.shelfari.com/search/books?Keywords=Ashley%20Ladd

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=ashley%20ladd&sprefix=ashle%2Caps&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Aashley%20ladd

BUY LINK:

https://www.totallybound.com/her-men

BLURB:
Chief Noah Baird's job was to direct his team of firemen/womenand his para rescue teams to emergency locations. Their job - to help rescue people inneed. Always the calm, cool and collected man in charge who carried ahyper awareness sense of dangers around him. He loved his job and he was good at it, until TV reporter Shayna Allen arrived on his scenes creating distraction and confrontations.

Shayna Allen, career focused reporter, only cared about getting the almighty story. However, latelyshe's been hitting a wall. That wall came in the form of sexy fire Chief Noah Baird who seemed hell bent on thwarting her every attempt.
Their lives are forever changed when lightning strikes.

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Chief Noah Baird had an eerie ability of keeping a watchful eye on everything around him at the same time. Nothing magical about it, just a hyper awareness. The dark storm clouds turned normal daytime into a gloomy haze all over town, creating a ‘something wicked this way come’ feel with a touch of unpredictability with it. He prayed that a sudden tornado didn’t spring from the clouds that would complete the total havoc already pelting them. His job, as South Westfield Fire Chief, was not only to help protect the citizens in all foreseeable situation but to protect his men as well which meant he was point man, accumulating information all at once.

Above him, slicing through the charged thick air as it hovered over the river, he could hear the whomp of the department’s Para rescue helicopter.

Squinting through the downpour, he could see Jake repelling from the steel bird in his attempt to rescue a woman in the river below. He’d learned long ago to trust his teams in the air and on the ground to get the job done, especially under treacherous weather conditions. He returned his attention to the ground team and their attempts at keeping spectators clear from impending dangers and to make sure that no one else fell into the river by accident.

“Okay, Lucas. How’s here for location?”

Noah’s body reacted to the voice before he turned around to confirm his fear. Even in the high winds and downpour, he’d know it anywhere. Shayna Allen, South Westfield, TV news reporter, stood twenty feet away, mic in hand wearing a yellow slicker, trying to keep her hood from blowing off her head. It never failed as Noah watched the dark-haired beauty instruct her cameraman on angles, that she always found herself in the middle of places both risky and dangerous.

He stalked her way, preparing himself for another one of their verbal confrontations . Over the last eighteen months they’d gone head-to-head on all matters, including filming locations. Since coming to his town to continue her career in broadcasting, she had wreaked havoc on his life and his libido.

“Lucas, can you get the scene behind me? I think that someone is repelling out of the helicopter and that looks like a stranded motorist in the water. Do you see her?” Shayna yelled through the rain and wind.

“Got it, Shay. Any time you’re ready we can roll film. I don’t know how good the quality of sound is going to be. Might be more howling than anything else,” Lucas answered.

As Noah approached the pair, he took little satisfaction that Shayna was having trouble standing upright. Her resistance might have been more effective if she didn’t wear pumps in this kind of weather.

“Sorry, folks. Can’t film here. This area needs to be cleared of any civilians.” Noah’s voice carried over and caught the TV team’s attention.

“We won’t be long.” She barely turned to look at him. “Just want to let the town’s people know what’s going on.”

"Most of the town people don’t have electricity right now so you’re wasting your time. Please take it away from here.”

“I have a right to be here. I’m doing my job.” Her green eyes flashed at Noah causing his heart to thump against his chest. Excitement skimmed across the hairs on his arms as his gaze followed the hand that she placed on her hip as she widened her stance in a challenge.

God, he didn’t need this right now.

“I understand that you have a job to do,” he said, striving for a patient tone, “But I have a job, too, and it’s protecting my men, the people who really need help, and at the moment stubborn TV reporters. Please take your broadcast away from this location.”

“Keep rolling, Lucas,” she said defiantly.

“Move it, Lucas.” Noah didn’t bother to look Lucas’s way.

“You can’t stop me from getting this story, Chief!” Shayna stalked further into the opening, enduring the  rain and winds. “Luc, how’s this angle?” She turned to her cameraman and shouted so that her voice carried.

“Shayna, I’m going to have to ask you again to leave this area. It’s not safe.” Chief Noah Baird stood between her and the camera with his arms folded across his chest purposely blocking the cameraman’s view.

***

Odd? Shayna noticed that the chief had no problem maintaining his balance as he barked orders at her and Lucas. In addition to trying to ruin her career, he had the audacity to look good while doing it. His 6’1 height should have toppled against the gust but stood strong when even Lucas needed to correct his own balance from time to time.

“Look, Noah,” she started. Maybe if she used his first name, she could get under his skin like the use of her name on his lips did to her. “I take full responsibility should anything happen, but I am getting this story. So can you please step aside?”

His smile did not reach his eyes as he turned his head to the side where a few other firemen grouped.

“Hey, Joe!” he called. “Ms. Allen here, needs assistance moving to a safe locat—”

A loud crack pierced the air, shaking the ground and interrupting his command. Noah’s eyes darted, left, then right and before anyone knew what was happening, Noah twisted his body sharp and dove for Shayna tackling her to the ground and rolling her away from the clearing.

The flying tackle was hard, worthy of a college lineman scholarship, but he didn’t have time to be gentle. He needed to move them out of the falling tree branch’s path, fast. Lucas was lucky to be standing at an angle and out of harm’s way, but he moved anyway, after he realized what was happening.

Breathing hard, Noah lifted his head and did a quick count of the people around him, his men included, and confirmed they were all accounted for. While several men ran his way, he peered down at Shayna as he lay sprawled on top of her. For the first time since meeting her, she was silent.

“Shayna? Are you all right?”

When she didn’t respond or open her eyes, the first wave of panic spread through him.

“Shayna?”

Nothing. He placed two fingers at her neck. She had a pulse but she wasn’t breathing.

Tilting her head back, he angled his body off her chest then placed his mouth over hers forcing air into her lungs. Feeling her chest rise with each one,he blew three more times until her body took over and allowed an exaggerated breath in.

“Easy.” Noah’s voice softened as he watched as she attempted to control her breathing and get her bearings.

“What happened?” She looked into his eyes.

“You got the wind knocked out of you.”
            “But . . . How did that happened?”

“The chief saved your life, Shay.” Lucas stood behind Noah puffing after racing toward them. “That big-ass branch over there broke off and fell, taking most of the tree with it. The chief pushed you out of the way.”

Shayna swung her gaze back at Noah, who still crouched over her. “Really?”

“I told you it wasn’t safe here.” His fingers wanted to brush the wet, plastered hair from her brow but he didn’t.

“I know. I was just trying to get the—”

“Story. Yes, I know. Are you okay?”

“I think so," She wiggled her feet taking stock of her body "Are you?”

He tried to roll the rest of his body off of hers when the stabbing pain in his side forced him to stop movement. “What the hell?” Noah twisted enough to see chunks of wood broken in pieces around him.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Chief, don’t move,” Joe yelled and dropped down on one knee, bracing Noah's body with his hands.

 “What do you mean, don’t move? I need to get up and--Ah!” Noah winced, sucked in a deep breath, and began seeing stars.

“Noah? Are you okay,” Shayna asked, eyes wide, alarm in her voice.

“No, ma’am, he’s not. Chief, you’ve got a chunk of wood sticking out of your side, and I need you to be very still until we can load you onto a gurney.” Joe continued.

 I was born and raised on the South side of Chicago, Illinois during my early years then moved to the suburbs and lived there until my husband and our children relocated to central Indiana.  I've been exposed to many personality types and several interesting situations.  All of which provided opportunities to create heroes, heroines, villains and fictional towns to place my creations. 

I started reading romance novels in high school when a friend introduced me to a Harlequin book. I thought  it was so refreshing that I bought another one, then another one and read them every spare moment I had. This was also around the time I developed a passion to write my own stories and I've been writing ever since.

I write romantic suspense.  Half of my novels are part of a 3-5 book series.  I've written a couple of contemporaries and I wrote my first paranormal that was contracted in 2013 and will be published in Summer 2014.

I have way too much fun creating people and building situations for them that has lead me to accomplishing my true goal.  Publishing.    

If you have aspirations of publishing a book, I encourage you to take steps towards making that happen.  A great start is to look up your local Romance Writers of America (RWA) chapter and attend a couple of meetings to see if it's for you.  This organization has helped me to learn not only the business of writing but the craft as well. 

For more information about my upcoming books, please visit:

www.findinglanora.weebly.com

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lanora-Mangano/527909407268248


 Get your Kindle edition

The Tomato Plant that Wouldn’t Die

Let me preface this by saying I like tomato plants and gardening. I don’t set out to kill plants. In fact, any errant plant that pops up in my garden I’ll allow it to grow and until it shows me it’s a weed, then it’s history. Currently, I have honeydew, cantaloupe and acorn squash thriving in my garden I didn’t plant.  All you composters out there, seeds don’t compost. Was does all this have to do with a tomato plant?

Plenty. Gardening is a major love of mine with the tomato plant being the heart of the planting season. The tomato plants always produces plentifully insuring late summer batches of salsa. This year was different for several reasons. A healthier eating style encouraged me to plant almost every vegetable we’d regularly consume. Put in two extra gardens to handle the demand, and planting a few melons along the fencerow. I have two major enemies of young plants, rabbits and my dog.

The rabbits enjoy new plants and seedling while my dog alternates between watering them and nipping off the blossoms. My answer to these problems was chicken wire and bobcat urine. Each bed had an impenetrable fence worthy of Fort Knox. A heavy dose of bobcat urine powder kept the varmints away. Didn’t do much for flying insects or birds, though. A bird net went over the fencing.

I only planted two tomato plants in my garden, a cherry and beefsteak one. Last year, my overabundance of tomatoes had my neighbors eventually hiding from me when they saw me with my tomato basket. Two plants should be more than enough for two people.

Something weird happened this summer. It rained. Might not sound like a big deal to you, but drought and triple digit temperatures are the norm for central Indiana. Cooler temperatures and constant rain had my beefsteak tomato plants leaves turning up. Always on the lookout for any type of disease, this had me searching the gardening sites for answers. The plant could be suffering from anything from insect infestation to a fungus that would contaminate the entire garden. The same garden where herbs, peppers, and broccoli resided. Similar to all those who search symptoms online I assumed the worst, a fungus that would cause my garden plot to be unusable for years!

The beefsteak tomato plant would have to go before the garden was history. The website advised cutting open the roots once you pulled up the plant to check for the fungus. A contaminated plant would have black oozy interior, an obvious issue.  My enormous plant spread about five feet wide. It took some effort to cut back the branches even to get to the main plant. I lifted the much smaller plant to the picnic table for the primitive autopsy. A slender cut with the steak knife revealed a green interior oozing water. The plant wasn’t sick. I’d ripped a vigorous, growing plant out of the ground. Killed it. I was a plant killer. A very bad thing to be when you’re a gardener, a plant lover.

Embarrassed at my misdiagnoses, I stuck the remnant of the plant back in the ground and watered it. Stupid Internet site. I reviewed other causes of folded leaves. One reason was the plant was getting too much water and not enough sun. Hmm, that sounded more likely than the garden-killing fungus.

As for the plant, despite ravages caused by a paranoid gardener, the plant continues to grow and produce tomatoes like crazy. Then there was the day I found the evil tomato caterpillars. My shrieking startled the neighbor’s dog. My dog knew I took my gardening too seriously and only opened his eyes from his prone position on the lawn.

Now, I like to take a live and let live attitude about most creatures, but tomato caterpillars do not get that luxury. The little beasts met their death under my flip-flop. As for the plants, they’re doing well producing dozens of tomatoes. My hardy beefsteak plant has returned to his overwhelming size despite my vicious pruning.

Consider that rabbits, a grazing canine, weird weather, the dreaded tomato caterpillar and a neurotic gardener all plagued the defenseless vegetable plant. It deserves a shot of plant food and should be immortalize in gardening history as the plant that would not die.

Did any of you head out to your local fair this summer? I've been a faithful attender of state fairs. Now that the kids are grown and I live in the city, how's it pertinent? For me, the state fair represents a wide slice of my childhood. As a 4-Her, my goal was to have my project go to the state fair. Can't remember my project ever getting there, but I always did, courtesy of my mother. As a single parent raising three children, special events were rare and hard to come by, but the state fair was one. For the price of admission, we not only got to see projects and horse shows, but plenty of free entertainment including the Circus, sponsored by Brown Brothers Cadilliac.  It was a real circus in a large red and white striped tent.  Each year the circus would return with new acts and the old favorites of the trapeze artists and lion tamer. They always put on a good show with  a Cadilliac driving in at the end with darkened windows. Then clowns would emerge from the car surprising everyone with how many could fit into one car. One year there was thirty-one clowns. They must have been stacked like cordwood inside the stripped out car.

Some of my best moments are watching the kids at the fair. I grew up on a farm, which means the sight of a cow, pig or even a chicken doesn't excite me too much. 

For the children, it is story book characters coming to life. They actually get to pet a baby piglet that could grow to be a Wilbur or a Babe.

The idea of milk coming from a cow is mind boggling until they see it happen. There is a little child in all of us too.  I stood by the team of draft horses waiting to go into the show arena overwhelmed by their sheer bulk and majesty.

Then there's fair food. To the right is the huge cheese sculpture that shows up every year at the fair. It weighed in 1,536 pounds. Fair food consists of annual favorites like corndogs, gyros, and funnel cake along with anything that can be deep fried and put on a stick. My tastes were a little more refined this year. I headed for the Ribeye Sandwich vendor, which was in front of the cattle barn. There were plenty of treats to take home including kettle corn and Bavarian nuts.

The fair evolves and changes to reflect its audience and state. This year the fair featured various stations for selfies photos. There were several free concerts from a Beatles tribute band to classic rock, and more modern bands. 

The fair also celebrates the state from high school band day to the antique tractor parade.  Each county sends their own 4-H princess to compete for the coveted State Fair Queen crown. Before  you consider this as a sexist contest, consider that the girls have to only be a 4-h member of a certain age to compete. There's no bathing suit competition.  It is one of the few chances a girl has to be a princess. They need a whole lot of help presenting ribbons at the fair, so several of the princesses get that honor. For a few days, they get to wear a banner and a crown. They're the envy of little girls everywhere.

 The fair  also brings people in contact with other people they might never meet, except at the fair, from participants, to carnies, farmers, and the occasional state trooper.
 
In the end, it's fun. You never know who you might end up getting a photo with either.

I'd love to hear your state fair memories.

( The pictures were taken at the Indiana State Fair 2014.)

Love Is... A charity anthology by 40 authors
Publication Date: August 5
Genre: Romance
All proceeds to benefit Reach Out and Read

BLURB:

Love is…

...forty stories of first loves, friends to lovers, and the heat of the moment. Join forty authors, including multiple New York Times and USA Today bestsellers, as they take you on a romantic ride through time and space.

From the dazzling ballrooms of Regency historical romance to contemporary love from sweet n' dreamy to kinky n' steamy, to the wide open frontier of science fiction romance and magical worlds of far away fantasy realms, sample the best that romance has to offer! Every short story is the perfect candy-sized nugget to read over a cup of coffee or before falling asleep at night.

GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22739370-love-is

PURCHASE LINKS:
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Kobo
iBooks

AUTHORS INFO
The Love is... anthology features 40 authors from the Romance Divas writing community. Some contributors are NYT and USA Today bestsellers. Others have their first published story in this collection. All share a love of romance, a strong spirit of collaboration and a keen interest in promoting reading at all ages. We are proud to support the literacy charity, Reach Out and Read, with the proceeds of this anthology.

FACEBOOK PARTY
August 6th 11 AM - 11 PM EDT
https://www.facebook.com/events/793625324021031/?ref=22

Tag Line:

He had love and passion to give, but she was afraid to take it.

Blurb:

Owning Rolling Thunder Motorcycles, Inc. and raising his twin sons was top priority in Dog’s life. That was until he met Jocelyn James, the sweet, loving single mother of Gunnar, a young man who works for Dog.

Joci raised Gunnar alone all of his life after her cheating, dickhead of a boyfriend ran off with another woman. She finished school, started her own graphic design business and hung out with friends and family. The last thing on her mind was men! That is until she met Dog.

The chemistry is undeniable. The passion is incredible. The family bond is like no other.

Excerpt 1: Chapter 1

There were times like this when Joci wanted to burst out laughing it felt so good. The wind in her face, running through her hair, the sun warming her skin, the roar all around her, seven hundred-plus pounds of pure unadulterated power between her legs, and she was controlling it all. Gliding through traffic with her son, Gunnar, just a few yards in front of her, feeling all the love and joy God made for her, just her. Yes, these were the times Joci enjoyed. She smiled as they came up behind a car and floated over to the left lane to pass. As she watched, Gunnar glided easily past the car, his dark hair pulled into a low ponytail, the two little kids in the back seat watching him and smiling at each other. You could tell they were thinking, Someday, I’m going to do that. Then as she pulled up alongside to pass them, they started smiling and pointing at her, one of them turning to the adult in the front seat and saying something causing the driver to look over at her as she passed him. He smiled at her, and Joci smiled back at the reaction; it happened often. She could almost hear the kids in the back: Look dad, a girl on a motorcycle.

She easily pulled in front of the car and continued on down the highway to their destination. She loved this life, this group of people that she had, at least, this in common with. A few minutes later, Gunnar and Joci put their turn signals on to turn off the highway, onto a frontage road, and into the parking lot of Rolling Thunder Motorcycles. They navigated the last few shoppers straggling out at the end of the day.

Gunnar worked at Rolling Thunder Motorcycles as a mechanic for the past year. He loved working here. He loved the people he worked with, he loved the customers and their bikes, he loved building bikes, and lately Dog had let him help in the design on some of the custom bikes they were known for. And well-known they were becoming. Dog built some of the hottest bikes around. He had recently been in Rider magazine, and showcased on several “biker” shows. His reputation for building beautiful, custom, mechanically sound bikes was becoming legend.

Release Party:

https://www.facebook.com/events/1648384725386930/   

Website:

https://www.pjfiala.com        

You Tube

http://goo.gl/3F2keF

Facebook:

www.facebook.com/pjfiala1

Street Team:

https://www.facebook.com/groups/260115080836816/

Twitter:

https://www.twitter.com/pfiala

Pinterest:

http://www.pinterest.com/pattifiala/dog-days-of-summer/  

Goodreads author:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7866768.P_J_Fiala  

Goodreads Book:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21851827-dog-days-of-summer

Amazon Author Page:

http://tinyurl.com/mmcrnlb

RebelMouse:

https://www.rebelmouse.com/pjfiala/ 

Google+:

https://plus.google.com/+PJFiala/posts

Spotify:

www.spotify.com 

Follow the links for the playlists for each book:

Second Chances  - http://tinyurl.com/nuut3wn

Dog Days of Summer  - http://tinyurl.com/qhld35l

Rydin the Storm Out - http://tinyurl.com/l8x8p84

 LinkedIn:

http://www.linkedin.com/profile/edit?trk=hb_tab_pro_top

Buy Links:

Amazon Links:

Kindle:

http://tinyurl.com/krz6xu5

Paperback:

http://preview.tinyurl.com/nmduovr

HenschelHAUS:

Paperback: http://tinyurl.com/dogdays-Fiala

Ebook:  http://tinyurl.com/DogDays-Ebook