Let’s Thank Our Veterans!

November 11, 2013 by Leave a Comment

honoringvets

Today is Veteran’s Day, the day we set aside to honor and thank those dedicated, courageous men and women who voluntarily protect our country, our rights, and our freedom. Our armed forces are second to none.

Each and every day, not only on Veteran’s Day, I take a moment to say a special prayer for the safety, health, good fortune, and happiness of those who fight on our behalf. But, today is special, in that we will all recognize our warriors for all they have done for us.

Here are a few ways to make it easy to say thank you:

Send a Thank You Card to the Troops – http://action.uso.org/moments?sc=google-p_moments-s&utm_source=google-p&utm_medium=search&utm_campaign=moments&donate=WW13GGPSM1&gclid=COKRpOGu27oCFUkV7AodFi4AgA

Donate a Moment – this project donates free phone cards, care packages, and more to our troops: https://secure.uso.org/1311_MMN/?sc=WW13MMNSP1

Share a Moment on Twitter – share a memory of a loved one who served in the military, your grandfather, great uncle, son, or husband: #USOMoments

Create a Moment – cook dinner for your neighbor’s soldier son or send him a care package, find out if there are wounded warriors in your area and volunteer to help in some way.

Volunteer at a USO center – http://www.uso.org/ways-to-volunteer.aspx

Here’s a list of ALL the USO Programs & Projects – http://www.uso.org/programs/

There are many organizations out there, but one that’s closest to my heart is The Wounded Warrior Project.

My deal for you today:

I’ll donate $100 to The Wounded Warrior Project if the total donated today by everyone who visits this blog matches that amount. Here’s the link to donate:

https://support.woundedwarriorproject.org/default.aspx?tsid=675&ovr_acv_id=1196&campaignSource=WEBSITE&source=BLB13005

Simply leave your name or email address with the $ donated in a comment here today. We’re on the honor (pun intended) system on this one.

I salute our troops!

Jianne

 

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That Pearly Drop is OUT!

November 7, 2013 by 6 Comments

So doing the Snoopy Dance!!! That Pearly Drop is out – and the cover got a bit of an upgrade – here it is (had to show off a bit)

Tag Line:That_Pearly_Drop-Jianne_Carlo-200x320

What do the hounds of hell, time travel, a murdered girl, a coach ticket to Wye Castle, and a governess’ letter of employment have to do with waking up in 1763, the mate of wolf-shifter, Ian, the Earl of Wye? Emma’s about to find out.

Blurb: 

Emma knows time travel’s impossible. So, the only other explanation for her going to sleep on Halloween night in 2013 and waking up in Wales in the year 1763 is that she’s insane. There’s a murdered girl, a coach ticket to Wye Castle, and a letter of employment to be governess to the Earl of Wye’s daughter. What’s a gal to do but go with the flow?
Wolf-shifter Ian, Earl of Wye, recognizes Emma as his mate instantly and senses she’s in danger. He knows Emma’s harboring a deep, dark secret. But, no matter what he does, she won’t confide in him. Then he finds Emma wounded and rambling about nine white gorgons who attacked her. The hounds of hell are Ian’s nemeses, and the fact they’ve reappeared in the mortal world after centuries of banishment can only mean one thing…

Here are all the buy links that are live so far:

Amazon ARe  B&N Taliesin

Please like, rate, and review anywhere you can. Already there are Goodreads and Amazon Reviews – here’s a sample:

By Midnight Attic Reader Five stars

I loved Ian and all that was involved in his wolf-shifter ways. The Murphy’s Time-Travel Laws prefacing each chapter were hilarious, especially coupled with Emma’s fumbling to explain her “colonial idioms” and I loved her nicknames for people. I hope to see more of the C-men and I suspect we will see more of Emma’s friends from the future (present?). Great read and I look forward to reading the next installment!

Five stars Oct 31, 2013 Glenda Bettin rated it 5 of 5 stars –

Wow what can I say about this book, I LOVED IT. If I could, I would give it 10 stars, COULD NOT put it down, had me at chapter 1. I loved the mouth on Emma, fav part, just because you’re Catholic, doesn’t mean you can’t talk like a truck driver, OMG that is so ME.

Five stars Nov 04, 2013 Sharla rated it 5 of 5 stars –

I thoroughly enjoyed That Pearly Drop! It had everything I could hope for in a book – HOT sex, humor, angst, and more HOT sex!

I’m having a great day! Hope you are too!

Cheers,

 Jianne

 

Filed Under: News and Updates, romance Tagged With: , , , , ,

That Pearly Drop – Excerpt #2

November 6, 2013 by 5 Comments

That_Pearly_Drop-Jianne_Carlo-200x320Excerpt #2 – That Pearly Drop:

Murphy’s Time-Travel Law: It doesn’t matter if it’s in the past, present, or future—the first person to fall into a pond is always the one who can’t swim.

I have no clue how I made it back to my room. All I know is that I wedged both the trunk and the stool against the door and then collapsed on the bed. I lie there staring at the rough ceiling and reciting the Lord’s prayer over and over.

My brain is defective, and my body is out of whack. How else to explain my reaction to seeing my new boss about to screw a woman? The image of him palming his cock and spreading that pearly drop fills my head. I cover my face with my hands.

Stop, stop.

I cannot be turned on. I cannot. Yet my vajayjay’s quivering and I’m wet. Shame, self-loathing, and an explosive rage trigger a temper tantrum. I pound my fists on the wall and tears pour down my cheeks. All I want is to do is go home.

My fury vaporizes, I flop onto my stomach, and then curl into a fetal position. I am emotionally bankrupt and energy depleted. I stare unseeing at the rough mortar and bargain with God. Make it all a daylight nightmare, let me wake up in my own bed in Boca, and I’ll never miss Sunday mass again. I’ll volunteer for all the soup kitchens in South Florida and do penance for the rest of my life.

The rattle of wheels rolling over cobblestones jerks me back to reality, to the macabre version of reality I now occupy.

My mind jump starts and my heart stops threatening to fly out of my mouth. It won’t be long before someone realizes I never met with the earl. I have to snap out of this stupid terror-trance.

I sit up, the room spins, and my stomach twists into a series of painful knots. How much time has elapsed?

I stand, slog over to the window and squint, trying to see through the dust-crusted glass. The sun’s still shining, and in the distance, I spy two little girls chasing each other and a puppy in a terraced garden. They look so carefree and innocent.

A wave of dizziness has me swaying, and I grab the window frame. Sustenance. How long has it been since I’d even had a sip of water? Exhaustion and shock make my memories fuzzy, and thinking chronologically is beyond me at the moment. I have a desperate need to hear the sound of my own voice. “You need food, a good night’s sleep, and a shot of tequila. Maybe not in that order.”

Hope you enjoyed!

I don’t know about you, but a tequila shot somehow seems to bring everything into perspective-it’s the lime and the salt, I swear.

Cheers,

Jianne

 

Murphy’s Time-Travel Law: It doesn’t matter if it’s in the past, present, or future—the first person to fall into a pond is always the one who can’t swim.

I have no clue how I made it back to my room. All I know is that I wedged both the trunk and the stool against the door and then collapsed on the bed. I lie there staring at the rough ceiling and reciting the Lord’s prayer over and over.

My brain is defective, and my body is out of whack. How else to explain my reaction to seeing my new boss about to screw a woman? The image of him palming his cock and spreading that pearly drop fills my head. I cover my face with my hands.

Stop, stop.

I cannot be turned on. I cannot. Yet my vajayjay’s quivering and I’m wet. Shame, self-loathing, and an explosive rage trigger a temper tantrum. I pound my fists on the wall and tears pour down my cheeks. All I want is to do is go home.

My fury vaporizes, I flop onto my stomach, and then curl into a fetal position. I am emotionally bankrupt and energy depleted. I stare unseeing at the rough mortar and bargain with God. Make it all a daylight nightmare, let me wake up in my own bed in Boca, and I’ll never miss Sunday mass again. I’ll volunteer for all the soup kitchens in South Florida and do penance for the rest of my life.

The rattle of wheels rolling over cobblestones jerks me back to reality, to the macabre version of reality I now occupy.

My mind jump starts and my heart stops threatening to fly out of my mouth. It won’t be long before someone realizes I never met with the earl. I have to snap out of this stupid terror-trance.

I sit up, the room spins, and my stomach twists into a series of painful knots. How much time has elapsed?

I stand, slog over to the window and squint, trying to see through the dust-crusted glass. The sun’s still shining, and in the distance, I spy two little girls chasing each other and a puppy in a terraced garden. They look so carefree and innocent.

A wave of dizziness has me swaying, and I grab the window frame. Sustenance. How long has it been since I’d even had a sip of water? Exhaustion and shock make my memories fuzzy, and thinking chronologically is beyond me at the moment. I have a desperate need to hear the sound of my own voice. “You need food, a good night’s sleep, and a shot of tequila. Maybe not in that order.”

Cheers,

Filed Under: News and Updates, romance Tagged With: , , , , ,

That Pearly Drop – How a Title is Born!

November 5, 2013 by Leave a Comment

That_Pearly_Drop-Jianne_Carlo-200x320So I’m sharing excerpts from Pearly (how my editor and I talk about the book) this week, and I figured the reason for the title should somehow be showcased- so here goes::

Murphy’s Time-Travel Law: Time travel is impossible—until it happens.

I jog-walk down the eerie, shadowed corridor muttering, “You can do this. You can. You’ve faced down oilmen, riggers, engineers. You have five older brothers.”
Door number one goes by.
“You’re from the twenty-first century. You graduated summa cum laude with a double major and a minor.” I pass door number two.
My footsteps slow of their own accord.
I chew the insides of my cheeks and force myself to continue.

“Go big or go home.”
Decision made, I stop in front of door number three, which stands slightly ajar. Raising my hand to knock on the solid wood, I shift and my boot catches on the too-long hem of Diana’s dress.
I snatch at the frame and manage to right myself.
My jaw drops at the scene revealed by the half-open door.
Behind a large, burnished desk stands a man who is the epitome of the Viking god Thor. Massive shoulders, chiseled pectorals, arms a logger would envy, a long, flowing, golden mane, and the profile of an immortal deity. He wears not a stitch of clothing, and the enormous erection he sports mesmerizes me. I can’t drag my eyes from his huge, engorged penis.
He doesn’t notice me, and I understand why when my gaze drops.
A half-naked woman lies sprawled on the top of the desk, which is located parallel to the far wall instead of fronting the doorway. She’s angled so I can see the profile of her face and body clearly. Her head’s half-resting on one elbow and her chin’s tilted back, exposing a slender, graceful neck.
I catch a glimpse of a blue pendant dangling from a thick-linked gold chain hanging to one side. A mane of glossy ringlets are spread in a perfect array around her head and shoulders.
She’s wearing a thin, transparent nightgown, which is scrunched above her waist. Her legs hang down from the desk, and a triangle of pale blonde curls at the apex of her thighs shimmers in the dancing flames of the candles attached to sconces on the opposite wall.
He cups himself.
Fascinated, I follow his tanned fingers as he strokes back his foreskin to reveal the reddened head of his penis.
A heated paralysis strangles my brain. I lick my lips when a thick, pearly drop oozes from the glistening slit in the center of the crown of his cock.
Lightning crackles. Thunder booms.
His head whips around and our stares collide.

Hope you enjoyed!

Cheers,

Jianne

 

Filed Under: News and Updates, romance Tagged With: , , , , ,

Four Days To Go For That Pearly Drop’s Release!

November 4, 2013 by 1 Comment

That_Pearly_Drop-Jianne_Carlo-200x320Getting both excited and apprehensive. So I thought I’d share excerpts every day this week. Here goes:

Murphy’s Time-Travel Law: Time travel is impossible—until it happens.

I am certifiable.

Time travel is impossible.

For the kazillionth time in the last seventy-two hours, I squeeze my eyes shut, beg God to make things right, and lift one lid.

Nada. Zippo. Nil.

I am still in the same room in some freaking castle in Wales.

I am still in fricking 1763.

Hugging my knees, I rock back and forth and bite my lips, hoping the stinging pain will stop another mother-lode sob session.

My glance falls on the rusty-colored iron trunk, and I reach out and touch it.

Solid. Cold. Real.

In the gloom and shadows, the three gold coins lying on the lumpy cot twinkle at me. Unable to resist, I pick one up, study the engravings, and trace a finger over the year, 1763.

A guttural shout comes from beyond the lone open window in the room, and my heart races. One thing I’ve learned in the last two days—privacy is nonexistent in 1763.

How much time do I have before they come for me?

“Get a grip, Emma Maria Perez. It’s use it or lose it time.” The sound of my voice is somehow comforting and normal—not crazy. I hop up onto the spartan cot. The mattress sinks under my weight, and a cloud of dust tickles my nose. Ignoring the mini sneezing fit that follows, I loosen the leather straps on the trunk from the brass buckles and lift the domed lid open.

The trunk’s about three feet by five feet and about two feet deep. It’s metal and wood and heavier than the speedboat anchor I’m used to hauling up by hand in Lake Boca Raton. It’d taken me ages to lug it to the coach stop, but it had been more than worth the effort. I dig around to find my backpack, flick the combo lock, and retrieve the ballpoint pen and paper appropriated from The Ratfyn Inn two days ago.

I am the kind of person who needs lists. Ordinarily, I compose my lists on my iPhone. A strangled sound more like a sob than a snort erupts from my throat. Tears brim and I grit my teeth.

No more crying.

Time travel doesn’t work the way it’s portrayed in movies and books.

Useless tools follow you in time, mocking you because you can’t use them. I have an iPhone that doesn’t work, a Kindle that won’t power on, and a set of remote keys for a rental car that no longer exists.

“Make a doggone list.” My death grip on the pen makes my fingertips burn. After flexing my hand a few times, I start to write.

Facts:

1. I am in Wye Court, Wales.

2. It’s November 2, 1763.

3. I left Boca Raton, Florida, on October 30, 2013.

A stomach cramp hits me, and I double over and wait the convulsions out. For two days, all I’ve had to eat were the three packs of freebie peanuts from the transatlantic plane ride. Temptation surges, my mouth waters, and I stare at the backpack. Shaking my head and clenching my jaw, I set aside the idea of eating one of the four Mars bars purchased while waiting for Heathrow’s airport train to take us to the car rental station. I’m a hoarder by nature, and I’m afraid to eat all my precious food until I know for certain I’ll be fed regularly.

I read what I’ve written and want to howl my frustration, my anger, my sheer terror. But I can’t because they can come for me at any moment, and I have to be prepared.

 Hope you enjoyed and there’s more to come.

Happy Monday!

Cheers,

Jianne

 

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