Thursday, January 31, 2019

Reading and #Reviews (Sandford, Collins, Hoornstra, and Gallant)

I'm a writer, but I'm also a reader. Each month, I'll share with you what I'm reading and some reviews. My available time to read is limited because I write, but I love to curl up with a book or a reader at night for the last hour of my waking day.

I tend to read what I write, but not exclusively. My current read is a Romantic Suspense by J L Wilson entitled Candy, Corpses, and Classified Ads. I'm not quite finished so you'll have to wait until another month for the review. But I also like detective thrillers, WWII historicals, mysteries, and some main stream character driven novels.

Here are some of the books I've read recently. Maybe you'll discover a new book or author!

John Sandford is the author of the Prey series, Crime/Thriller. I’ve read eighteen of the twenty-six books in this series. Although I didn’t start with book one, I changed directions after the first couple. They can be read out of order, but because the main character, Lucas Davenport, starts as a maverick detective and works his way up the law enforcement ladder, in order might be advised. I LOVE these books. I’ll certainly be sure to finish the series eventually. My TBR pile runneth over.

The Hunger Games #1 in the series by Suzanne Collins

I saw the movies first. I really didn't care about seeing them or reading the books, but my FDW came home one night with the first one from the Redbox. Wow, did I get hooked! We watched all three on consecutive nights. I then got the books. So entertaining! Books and movies differ, but I thoroughly enjoyed both.

On the Surface #1 in the series by Margo Hoornstra
For some reason I'm always attracted to bounty hunter stories, if there's romance involved. Margo Hoornstra didn't disappoint me with this Romantic Suspense. A wrongly convicted woman has to depend on one handsome bounty hunter to help rid herself of the slimy guy who used her and is coming back for more. She's caught between keeping herself out of his web and the law, and she needs help. The hero is a certainly the one she needs. This is good romance and suspense.

Hidden Secrets #3 in series by Jannine Gallant
I've read quite a few books by Jannine Gallant, and she continues to please. This Romantic
Suspense is maybe the best. It's been a long time that a book has kept me reading past my usual bedtime. An antique dealer has something that can lead to a murderer. I had a lot of fun trying to figure out who the bad guy was and never did nail it. The romance between two childhood friends was so believable. An absolutely great read.

Wednesday, January 30, 2019

#Wicked Funny Scene- The Invitation: Hat Trick Scene by Nikki Woolfolk #dating #stud


The cheese had slid off her cracker? My guest today, Nikki Woolfolk, cracks me up. Dating is the topic and you're sure to chuckle a little. Please enjoy!

Dating is tough and being on an unintentional blind date is a tier of either awful, hysterical or both. I’ve been privy to my friend’s real-life dating that leads to HEA, but my own dating life was filled with social interaction failures that made me a star in my own real-life sitcom. When folks ask the ‘what’s the worse that could happen?’ my friends could wave a hand in my direction as answer to the question.

They weren’t wrong and I got use to recounting the dating incidents in a manner that brought the listener to reflex tears from laughing too hard. What made it a schadenfreude is that I never purposely pursued dating at the time, so my misadventures in love became fodder for my writing.

In my first novella I added a fictitious element to a real-life time in my life. My father was ready to be a grandfather and had no qualms calling me at random moments to tell me. It did not matter that I wasn’t dating anyone or even definitive in my choice of becoming a parent. Forget biological clock, my father’s (grandfather) clock was chiming every moment of every hour, every day.

It was irritating, but when I would lament to friends they would laugh. “I’m sorry. I agree it’s not cool, but your dad is really funny. Usually it’s the mom you hear about wanting to be a grandparent.”
They were right.

In the middle of my self-pity I pondered the angle of blind dates that lead to an adventure instead of misery. What if I created a main character whose father was baby crazy and a daughter who was happily single AND about to come out to her father as not being straight?

Then I wondered what would happen if attempts to cancel the blind date led to misadventures in love and friendship.

I love stories that have madcap comedy, mistaken identities, and main characters that discover a secret auction of male stud auctions for women. You know? The usual.
A snippet of The Invitation (a.k.a The Winter Triangle):

When the laughter simmered down, a young woman in a teal-colored, silk dress with a skirt gathered into the sides draping like a dark waterfall around her chair spoke.
“Some of us are here to fulfill a natural, biological calling that will hopefully result in a nurturing bond that has eluded some of us for years.” Cassandra nodded in sympathy. “Men are so selfish to choose not to give a child to a woman that desperately wants one so badly. How dare a man say no!”
Cassandra stopped nodding.
The teal lady, though refined in dress, had a facial expression that hinted at something being off. Walter would have said that the cheese had slid off her cracker, but Cassandra didn’t think it wise to share the thought her entire table was obviously thinking.
The ladies’ faces sobered, and they all took a sip of their drinks.
Cassandra wished to distance herself from what felt just not right. Her stomach began to churn.
She had a terrible feeling something awful was going to happen. But she had to find the right opportunity to take her package.
“Ladies, here is our next available gentleman for your bidding. Remember that if you are the winning bid, please bring him back well-rested and rehydrated.”
All nodded and murmured in agreement. As the women’s eyes were turned toward the stage, Cassandra snatched the box and placed it into her pocket. She signaled to Morgan that they should leave when the soft, green velvet curtain pulled back, and Hunter, shirtless, stepped onto the dais.
Cassandra and Morgan’s eyes goggled.
So did Hunter’s.
The announcer sifted quickly through her notecards. Hunter held his shirt and his coat draped over his arm. He whispered something to the announcer, who smiled broadly and eyed him up and down. “Ladies,” she paused and rubbed her hands together, “His name is Hunter.”
Several women in the crowd tittered.
The announcer sifted through her cards again. “Ladies, perhaps we should bring out another gentleman in order to give Mr. Hunter a proper introduction?”
There was a collective sigh of disappointment. Hunter started to walk off the dais when—
“Abigail! He looks barely old enough to sit at a bar,” one lady called out.
The announcer, Abigail, narrowed her eyes at the heckler.
“Are his eyes really that blue?” another asked.
“Ladies,” Abigail said. “Imagine nine months from tonight. You’re holding that bundle of joy in your arms. The baby will have this gentleman’s azure eyes and raven hair.”
Hunter’s face paled.
Morgan tugged on Cassandra’s arm to ask what was happening, but Cassandra could not bring her focus away from what was happening in front of her.
“So, Hunter,” said Abigail as she looked him up and down, “What is your staying power? Are you able to offer three deliveries or a hat trick to our ladies this evening?”
Hunter’s mouth opened and closed for a few moments. “Well…to be truthful, I’m not sure. I-I mean, I’ve never had a chance to be with someone in that way. I meant the opportunity has never been…offered.”
The room went still. Cassandra still had not closed her mouth, and her eyes had widened with each telling word Hunter had spoken of his unclaimed virtue. A beat later, every woman’s numbered paddle went up, and the bidding fervor began.
Cassandra couldn’t believe her ears. Morgan looked around in confusion. These women were bidding amounts for one night with Hunter what a large family of Stubborn would require to buy a farm. And many of these bidders would be far from an age where having a child would even be possible. Then, Cassandra looked at the lady in teal. Her paddle was down, and her chance was gone. Perhaps there would be other fertile men who…
The heated bidding screeched to a halt.
“Going once, going twice…”
Cassandra pulled Morgan by the sleeve and stood up. “Hunter!” she yelled.
“Sold!” Hunter yelled. He jumped off the dais and ran with Morgan and Cassandra to the exit.
As they raced through the hall, she asked, “How in the world did you end up on the auction block as a stud?"
Hunter shook his head. “Don’t ask.”

My Steampunk RomCom novella THE INVITATION (a.k.a. The Winter Triangle) is set on Valentine’s Eve. Can you guess which aspects are fiction and which are my memoir of my dating misadventures? The Invitation: a Night of Misadventures with Love can be purchased on Amazon, iTunes, etc.

Find out more about Nikki and her books by clicking HERE
And on her web site by clicking HERE

Thursday, January 24, 2019

WIP Update #RomanticSuspense #series

I'm having a lot of fun with this romantic suspense. This is going to be a fun, character driven series.

To recap from my last check-in with you: Joshua, Arizona is buzzing with the news of a body found down in The Ravine. The bones are twenty-five to thirty years old. That could mean the unsolved murder from 1990 might be related to the unidentified body. Could it be the body of the teen who went missing? Or could the teen have been the murderer who then ended up in a shallow grave? Will Magpie’s father be a suspect in two murders? I’ve dipped into all of these questions.

And I've answered some of them. But I don't want to answer them here. You have to wait for the book. I will say, the murder suspects have been narrowed down. At this point, there are three possibilities. 

The romance has continued to flourish...well at least the sex part has. There are obstacles to a happily ever after. Why is Zack so obsessed with finding what happened to the teen? And when he finds out his connection, why is Magpie having doubts about Zack? 

I have to throw you some other clues to the plot so far: aura, intuition, channeling, genetic memory. There's a mystic theme to this romantic suspense.

I've finished chapter fifteen. I'm probably five chapters away from the first draft completion.

Monday, January 21, 2019

Healing Loss with Love by Mona Sedrak #MuseMonday


Please welcome Mona Sedrak. Her book is a heart tug for sure.

Have you ever lost someone you loved––a spouse, child, parent, or best friend? When the shock and pain of the loss was fresh, and your life was in a tailspin, were you convinced you would never recover? In the moment, we all believe the adage, “Time heals all wounds,” is rubbish. But the human spirit is resilient. Six Months details the struggle of one woman who lives through every mother’s nightmare but recovers and rebuilds her life. Then her life is filled with beauty once more when she finds a new love. New loves never replace what you lost, but they can help you find closure and enrich your life in ways you never thought possible. 

For twenty years, Mikala Jacobson had it all: loyal friends, a precious little girl, and a man who adores her. Then double tragedy strikes and her perfect world shatters.  Good friends, Rena and Jake are instantly by her side, protecting her from her husband sordid secret life and his final drunken confession. Secrets, lies, and the truth of Molly—Mikala’s daughter’s death, culminate in a healing process. Mikala finds strength to rebuild and redefine her life. As her spirit and heart heal, she not only finds closure, but the beauty of a new love built upon an old friendship.

Mona Sedrak lives a double life. By day, she is a suit-wearing, prim and proper, professor, administrator, researcher, and lecturer. By night, she is a PJ wearing dreamer and writer of books that make people sigh, smile, cry, laugh, and fall in love. She lives in Ohio with her husband of thirty-two years, a cranky, geriatric maltipoo, and an obnoxious Amazon parrot who runs the house and terrifies its inhabitants. Mona has a long publishing history in academia, but she started writing fiction recently.

Twitter: @AuthorMSedrak
Instagram: authormonasedrak 

Buy Links:
The Wild Rose Press:

Wandering from room to room, she memorized every detail of the life she and David built––the family photos lining the mantel, the hand-carved jewelry box David bought her on their honeymoon in Salzburg, and Molly’s tea set arranged on the coffee table for evening tea. A cold, hollow ache took residence in her belly where the knot of dread made its appearance that morning. The sensation expanded with alarming speed, dug in deep, and planted roots. Like an unwanted guest appearing without warning and bringing too many bags for just a brief visit, sorrow moved in, shifted, and stretched then got comfortable for the long haul.

When the house line rang, Mikala froze, and her gaze darted to the cordless on the couch. Her breath stuttered. Her heart seized. Clarity forced its way past the tentacles of sheer terror strangling, dominating, and paralyzing her. She shook her head and took a step forward, only to be hit by a wave of dizziness and nausea so tremendous, she doubled over wrapping her arms around her womb. Mikala’s entire being, inside and out, shook as her heart tumbled about in her chest without a set time, tempo, or rhythm. Her breaths grew shallow and choppy, and her legs turned to rubber. The cord tethering Molly to her and this world had been severed.

The telephone rang four times before Mikala forced her body to cooperate. God, she hadn’t wanted to answer. She hadn’t wanted to know. She’d even considered not answering, protecting herself and her beautiful family from the annihilation of their world. People said she was strong––the strongest woman they knew. They said in time she would heal. She would build another life. And God didn’t give you more than you could handle. People were idiots. They had no idea how in her head she raged. She howled, and shrieked, and wailed...and begged, and pleaded for mercy. All day. All night. Every day. Every night.

Friday, January 18, 2019

Follow Your Dream by Caroline Clemmons #Fearless #Romance


Striking out on your own, following a dream, is definitely fearless. Be sure to read on, and welcome Caroline Clemmons to  Fearless Friday.

Thanks to Brenda for having me as her guest today on Fearless Friday.

How fearless am I? Picture me blushing as I answer, “Not very.” I’ve done a lot of things that took courage, but I was acting with my husband, which made the event far less frightening. However, one thing sticks in my mind that was life-changing.

For several years I worked as the bookkeeper for our county tax assessor. The pay wasn’t great, but it came with good retirement benefits, had a short commute, was in a nice building, and the tax assessor was a friend.

This was in an office with ten other women. Can you say drama! Most of the women were really nice but there were three whose performance and gossip mongering made each day a challenge. l loved my actual job—but the parade of divas in and out of my office sapped my energy. Yet, I had to be accessible and couldn’t just shut the office door. When I arrived home from work each weekday, my mind was mush from dealing with the spectacle at work all day. I dragged into the house too foggy to concentrate on writing. Still, I’m aware many writers succeed under those conditions.

For years I’d wanted to write romances. I’d even started one to which I slowly added pages. That left weekends to write. In addition, I have several annoying health concerns that zapped me frequently. On Saturday mornings, I attended RWA chapter meetings or critique sessions. Sunday morning was church. I believed that if I could stay home, I could succeed. I didn’t tell my husband those feelings. Fortunately, my husband encouraged me to quit my job and write.

I had to deliberate the possibility. Giving up a sure salary for the maybe of a writing career was a difficult decision. What if I failed? What if we needed my income? Ha, I was willing to take that risk. The next morning, I gave my notice. Yes, I gave up my day job and concentrated on writing.

I sent out sample chapters and got rejections while I completed two books. One great day, I got an acceptance letter. Hooray, I was on my way!  Four years from the day I quit my day job, I was published. I had my foot in the door, so to speak, with a traditional publisher. Now I’m indie published, which is so much better for me. In spite of that, I was extremely happy with my first sale.

Stepping into the unknown carries a risk. That’s why I admire the heroine of my new release, GARNET, book 9 of the western historical Widows of Wildcat Ridge Series. Imagine the fearless courage required to become a mail-order bride. Worse, only nine months after her wedding, Garnet Chandler was widowed, left with her niece and nephew in her care and a café to operate alone. I hope you’ll give GARNET a read. The universal buy link at Amazon is

Through a crazy twist of fate, Caroline Clemmons was not born on a Texas ranch. To compensate for this illogical error, she writes about handsome cowboys, feisty ranch women, and scheming villains in a small office her family calls her pink cave. She and her Hero live in North Central Texas cowboy country where they ride herd on their rescued cats and dogs. The books she creates there have made her an Amazon bestselling author and won several awards. Find her on her blog, website, Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, Google+, and Pinterest.

Join her Facebook reader group, Caroline’s Cuties, for advance news, contests, and conversation.

Click on her Amazon Author Page for a complete list of her books and follow her there.

Follow her on BookBub.

Subscribe to Caroline’s newsletter here to receive a FREE novella of HAPPY IS THE BRIDE, a humorous historical wedding disaster that ends happily—but you knew it would, didn’t you?

She loves to hear from readers at

Thursday, January 17, 2019

A Fur Baby Saga #puppy #furBaby #rescueDog

Baby Rusty

Three years ago, we lost Rusty, a rescue dog from the Navajo Nation in Arizona. He was Red Heeler mix from a working cattle dog momma, which is all we knew for sure about him. We called him “the smartest dog in the world” and we loved him dearly for eleven years. Until recently, we hadn’t even considered getting another dog. He’d been just too special.

A few weeks back, we were in one of those puppy mill pet stores because our granddaughter is a dog loving little girl. She has two of her own, but loves to visit pet stores. One of the puppies took a
Old Rusty
strong liking to FDW. I saw a light in his eyes…FDW that is. We left the store and the $3,000 puppy behind, but it got me thinking that the time might have come for us to consider another dog adoption.

We both played around on some Internet rescue sites. I even applied for one puppy, but was told because we didn’t have a doggie door, we couldn’t adopt from them. Another puppy looked like a possibility, but the price was high, and he wouldn’t be ready for a few weeks. I honestly can’t remember how I came upon Black Hat Humane Society. When I did, our search looked up. They didn’t have any silly rules about doggie doors, and they were more reasonably priced. The kicker is they are the main rescue site for the Navajo Nation. It served us well once. Why not again?

Cut to the next chapter. We found Amigo. I’m not going to relate Amigo’s whole story today. That will be another blog post, if this all works out. We have to travel 3 ½ hours to meet him. The foster mom will have to travel nearly three hours to meet us, sort of in the middle. The first day we had scheduled fell through. Then we were supposed to get him today, but her schedule changed again. We are now set to pick him up tomorrow. Snow is in the forecast for the Mogollon Rim. We can’t get to Gallup, NM without a trip along the rim. Hopefully, the snow will be light like the weatherman is predicting or this adoption will be postponed yet again.

All of this postponing and the wait now has my stomach and my head in turmoil. Second thoughts are setting in. If we get there and he doesn’t respond to us, we’ll have made a wasted trip. Is all this trouble a sign we should forget it and find another dog? Or maybe not get a dog at all?

To be continued…

Wednesday, January 16, 2019

A #Wicked #Villain – If I Want You by Rachel Brimble


Please welcome back Rachel Brimble. She's talking my favorite genre, romantic suspense, and that means a wicked villain.

Although I write mainstream romance, romantic suspense and historical romance, I have to admit when I create a villain I love, romantic suspense is without a doubt my favourite sub-genre to write.
When writing a suspenseful story, it’s imperative the author connects with the villain as much as they do the hero and heroine. During the creative process of writing If I Want You, it was actually the villain who came to me before the protagonists.

If I Want You is a ‘whodunit’ type mystery where the villain is not revealed until the end of the book, so I have to be careful how much I tell you about this character. The story has a definite sense of obsession running throughout which starts with the heroine realising the man who abducted her as a child might be running free and pursuing her a second time even though she is now an adult.

For me, creating a villain starts with understanding why they are villainous – some people will argue there is a possibility that some people are born evil, but I don’t believe that. So, in order for me to be entirely invested in my wicked character, I have to first imagine their childhood and adolescence to ensure their motivations are believable.

With the villain in If I Want You, the character’s motivation for stalking the heroine is steeped in their childhood. Their entire mindset, actions, resentment and beliefs stem from the experiences and emotions they endured when they were young. Thoughts festered, revenge was plotted and, eventually, obsession developed.

Having a villain who believes they are just in their beliefs and actions makes for a scary individual who I hope the reader is a little afraid of, but also, a whole lot invested in catching. I love writing romantic suspense for this exact reason – how can I not love knowing the reader is turning the pages more and more quickly? Is vying for the hero and heroine to escape or apprehend their tormenter?
I have written eight romantic suspense novels so far but, I have to say, the villain in If I Want You is undoubtedly my favourite!

Happy Reading…

Blurb & Buy Links for If I Want You…

While Tori battles the vile memories of her own kidnapping as a child, she accepts the help of widowed father, Mark Bolton. As he and Tori join forces with the local police, their attraction and intimacy grows…along with their fears for Abby.

Links are uncovered between Abby’s disappearance and Tori’s kidnapping, and Tori is forced to accept the monster who held her captive is back. But this time, Tori is all grown up, and there is no way she will let him hurt another little girl.

Buy Links:

Rachel Brimble Bio & Links:
In January 2018, she signed a four-book deal with Aria Fiction for a new Edwardian series set in Bath’s finest department store. The first book, The Mistress of Pennington’s released July 2018 with book two coming February 2019.
Rachel is a member of the Romantic Novelists Association and Romance Writers of America and has thousands of social media followers from all over the world. To sign up for her quarterly and new release newsletter, click here to go to her website:
Amazon Author Page:

Friday, January 11, 2019

On Getting Myself Into a Pickle… By J. Arlene Culiner #fearless #travel


My guest today, J. Arlene Culiner, doesn't consider her tale fearless. Oh my gosh, I do! And it's so much fun. You must read on...

Here’s the question: do I think life will be boring if I stop doing rash things? Probably... So the incident I’m about to relate has nothing to do with bravery or courage. Instead, it’s about being in a pickle — a fairly frequent position in my higgledy-piggledy life. It started like this:

Once upon a time, I found myself in a clapboard, rusty trailer, semi-ghost town in Nevada. The hotel I stayed in was a rundown has-been, where ceilings soared high, and the lumpy, almost colorless wallpaper was a century old. In the shabby bar, a talentless band whined out bad country music, and locals dished up tall tales. It was a singular place, and I’d give anything to be able to go back…

But where was it? Believe me, I searched for it over and over, and never found it again. What was it called? I can’t remember. So I’m still looking for that cranky community — even years later. Which is how I got myself into the pickle I mentioned a few sentences back.

I was on a book tour, making my way from Los Angeles to Oklahoma by bus because, believe it or not, I really like travelling on buses and trains. You get to meet some pretty strange characters — grist for the writer’s mill — as well as highly interesting ones. Long-distance bus drivers have told me some of the best stories I’ve ever heard: they’ve been around; they’ve seen it all. Also, my ecological conscience reminds me that, if I take a plane, I’ll add a significant amount of planet-warming gases to the atmosphere.

On this particular bus, the driver and I chatted about books, about unusual destinations too. I mentioned that I’d crossed whole countries on foot, that I’m ever on the lookout for odd places.
“Well,” he said, “if you want to see an unusual place, get off a few miles from here. There’s a date plantation, a restaurant where you can get a good meal, nothing else. But if you walk north, you’ll find the crankiest, finest community around. I remember it well. It might be what you’re looking for.”

Why not? I was around fifteen hours outside of Oklahoma City: I had time. So, feeling very optimistic, I stepped off the bus and headed for the restaurant — I was starving. Of course I hadn’t asked the driver any normal questions such as — “how far north do I have to walk?” or “is there anywhere to stay in the area?” or “when does the next bus come through?” I always think luck is on my side.

            “Restaurant’s closed,” said the waitress as she slopped away gooey crumbs from the counter top.
            “Don’t tell me that.”
            “Well, it is,” she said with unpleasant satisfaction. She was dying to go home, prop up her aching feet, sit mindlessly in front of a television.
“Okay, then. Where can I get something to eat?”
            “She looked at me as if I were very strange. “Out here?”
            “Yes… I just got off the bus, you see. The driver mentioned a community not far away. To the north. Walking distance.”
            “He said that, did he?”
            “He did.”
            She harrumphed.
            “It isn’t?”
            “It’s a pretty big walk.”
            “How big?”
            “Hours away.”
            “Ah. How about a place to sleep? A motel, a room somewhere.”
            “Out here?”
            “Well, yes…”
            “Nothing like that out this way.”
            “And out at that community?”
            “Doubt it.”
            I chewed over the information for a few minutes, then optimism abandoned me. “When does the next bus come through?”
            “Tomorrow afternoon. Five o’clock.”

Outside, the sun sank with alarming speed. Now what? I wasn’t about to set off on a night trek. No, I’d just have to find a place to sleep, somewhere safe. Where would that be? I thought of all the hungry cougars, wolves, giant killer ants, and zombies who were waiting for the moon and a victim. I thought of armed, dangerous two-legged cranks who roam through the night. I could hear teeth grinding and saliva dripping. I could see strange shapes. “Cut it out,” I ordered myself (but not too loudly.)

I found a little hollow far from the road, curled into it, pulled all the clothes out of my bag and hoped they would be as warm as a good blanket. I also hoped I would be able to sleep. That I would survive.

When I next opened my eyes, it was early morning. Amazing! Evil had passed me by. I headed north, taking the dirt road over a perfectly empty plain. It was a very lonely road. I didn’t see a living soul, but my imagination conjured up movement and shadows, created strange, unpleasant noises. Still, I kept walking: whatever was going to get me, would get me coming or going.

I reached the community an hour or so later — it wasn’t really all that far. It was a wonderful place. There was a clapboard bar run by two wild ladies; there were old timers and cranks; there was great conversation; there was food and drink; it was — albeit too briefly — home.

            “Come back,” people said to me. “There’s plenty of place for you to stay. There are empty shacks.”
            “I will,” I answered. I meant it too.

            But I haven’t returned. Not yet. Will it be as wonderful as I remember? Who knows? What I have done, however, is mix it together with that first community, that rusty trailer, semi-ghost town in Nevada. Together, they’ve become a delightful fictional community called Blake’s Folly. It’s the setting for my newest contemporary romance, Desert Rose. And it really is worth a visit.

This place was a rusty trailer, scrapyard, abandoned car, clapboard shack, sagging old house community: a dead end if there ever was one. This was nowhere. This was the end of the line, socially speaking. This was a has-been. This was home.

You can find J. Arlene and all of her books HERE.