Getting the word out!

Glad Tidings!

The 4th of July has come and gone, but the firework extravaganza that happens in my neighborhood is still lingering (they’ve been setting them off since May and are still enamored by fire in the sky) and I’m finding it difficult to fall asleep (shocking). With two new releases out I thought I’d spend some time searching for places to promo while I wait patiently for the fire bugs supplies to dwindle or a house catches fire (I could use some hottie firemen as inspiration). What I’m soon discovering is there is just so much out there. From professional sites, semi professional blogs, to folks that just like to read. I love it all but I must confess I’m a bit overwhelmed.

I believe this has a lot to do with the fact the two new releases I have are just so different. Slow Hand and Fire & Ice are examples of how eclectic I am as a writer. I took some risks with both of them and like a mother with her children, don’t love either one more than the other, but damn they really are making me work to promo them.

Fire & Ice in particular has me biting my lip and wondering, “Now what am I going to do with you?” If Slow Hand had me exploring the boundaries of my erotic writing skills, Fire & Ice is a story that required strong character development and emotional upheaval. I want readers to sigh and cry and quite possibly shake their fist at me as they threaten bodily harm when reading Fire & Ice. If my writing is a flower, Fire & Ice is the bud that will eventually blossom into the type of stories I want to tell more of. Longer (as God as my witness I will write a novel length book one day), mystery element to the story, and darker with a light at the end of the tunnel eventually. I’m really excited for Fire & Ice and want to make sure it gets the attention it deserves as my special baby (okay no favorites but sometimes you do have one that particularly special).

The clock is rapidly raising towards early morning and I unfortunately have to work. So I’m going to put my musings out into the universe and wait patiently for answers to come to me in time. Until then, I plan to keep writing this crazy mixed up brand of prose I enjoy.


My Newest Babies!

Good Times and Great People

Hello My Lovelies!

I’m sitting in the airport, awaiting my flight to take me back home and I’m still riding the high of an extraordinary weekend. If you haven’t seen my posts on Twitter and Facebook you’ve missed out on my updates of shenanigans from the Beautiful Trouble Publishing Greet and Eat, but don’t feel too bad, I’m sure they’ll make a fictionalized (wink wink) appearance in a work of mine down in the future.
What I take away the most from the event was the sense of community that was created by the women (and few men) in the room. It is always great to be in the company of folks that love a good story. This love was expressed with a gracious spirit that had participants, both authors and readers, respecting, listening, and learning from each other. It is rare to be in such company and having experienced it I will cherish the memories of the event even more.
Next years Greet and Eat will be in Austin, Texas and I can’t wait to see how much higher we can raise the bar.

Happy Father’s Day Daddies of the world!!!

Hola Papas!

I would be remiss if I acknowledged Mother’s Day and not Father’s Day. Unfortunately, unlike Mother’s Day I don’t have a Father’s Day poem to highlight the beautifully complicated relationship one has with their father. Which got me to wondering, why is it that I don’t? My father was their for all my milestones, angst, and general life stuff that happens when growing up. He kissed boo boos, helped build forts, and made fish sticks that were just crispy enough. My love of sci-fi and those things strange and peculiar are a directive product of his influence. I think the greatest contribution he has given me is having not put me in a box or isolate me on a pedestal because I am his female child, with words and actions that discount my ability to think and reason or control and stifle my sexuality because I was born with a vagina. 
With his most famous words of wisdom, “She’s going to do what she wants. I know I raised her right and I want to always be there in her life.” I leave you with no poem for the Father’s today just a great deal of appreciation for those Dads like mine that let us be who we are meant to be because they know they had a big part in shaping us.
Happy Father’s Day!

I scream, you scream…

Welcome my beauties!

This is another late night blog because sleep and I are not on speaking terms currently. Don’t be too upset, we’ve been having this on again/off again relationship for quite some time. Instead of staring at the backs of my eyelids for hours or giggling at the nonsensical responses Sig Other makes when I try to engage him in a conversation while he’s sleeping (yes I’m childish at times), I thought I would do a little plotting. Considering I’m super committed to this new writing strategy it seemed like the best way to utilize the time that should be spent sleeping. Unfortunately, I got side tracked and began looking up symptoms of possible diseases/infections/cancers I may have. Needing to take a break before I ended up convincing myself I needed something amputated I decided to look at work of mine that would benefit from a little TLC when it came to promotion.

This has been on my checklist for quite some time and after narrowing down my book Into the Realm of Mystery and Night  as a great candidate I sent out a call for places to showcase what I happen to think is a damn good collection of mysteriously horrific short stories. I was so enamored with my own prose that I began to contemplate why everyone else wasn’t as stoked by what goes bump in the night. Maybe my stories really aren’t as fiendishly clever as I thought, but that strong sense of self confidence I possess (that dances along a fine edge of delusional at times) dismissed that completely. Instead I looked at where I pushed it and how.

I’m an eclectic person and it’s not surprising that my writing reflects that, but where I spend my time in social media is usually firmly housed in the romance genre. There is a spectrum in this genre but usually the blood curdling screams readers are anticipating are induced by mind blowing orgasms, not a psychotic ghost (or at least that’s the response I’ve gotten) and I need to find the folks that scream with excited anticipation of something scary about to happen. Which has left me feeling as if I need to do a little screaming of my own, “Oi! Come out, come out wherever you are. I’m here, but in a totally non creepy way, I just want to play with you.”


It’s the journey, not the destination.

Greetings Lovelies,

As I wait for my body to recover from the punishment of doing 125 crunches (yes I am suffering from temporary insanity, with summer being the onset of symptoms) I started thinking about a WIP I’ve been plotting. While I was going over character descriptions, what type of arch I’m trying to achieve and a whole host of things folks do whilst plotting I had a moment. “Omigod! I’m actually plotting something.”
Although I can get obsessed with useless details of a story, actual plotting is so out of my stratosphere. In a recent blog I did for Mocha Memoirs Press I discussed those obsessive details that clutter my mind and though I’ve shelved my epic sci-fi thing (I’ll get to it eventually) I’ve actually taken my time with my newest idea. It’s equal parts exciting and scary because I have always carried the entirety of a story in my head, but this time it appears as if I won’t cut corners when it’s time to transfer it from my noggin to paper. 
I’m ever so optimistic and I ask you all to wish me luck. I’d suggest you hold me accountable to this new philosophy, but when pressured my latent adolescent behavior surfaces and I become petulant, muttering under my breath, “This is stupid and I don’t want to do it.” I’m special like that.
Anyhoo, here’s to the journey and not the destination. May it be filled with a plot that makes sense, smexy sexy time, a hero and heroine you can root for, and word count that has me comfortably sitting in the novel section. 

Happy Mother’s Day, You Fabulous Women!!

Hola Beautiful!

It’s Mother’s Day and I’m patiently waiting to get the day started with my own dear mother. I’ve been fortunate that, even with the trials and tribulations of adolescents, and some differing of opinions on that thing called life, my mother and I can still enjoy being with each other. That may be an odd thing to reflect on when it comes to the person that gave you life (I include adoptive mother’s in that term because the care and nurturing of a child is life giving) but at the end of the day we are two individuals that make a choice to build a relationship with each other. I’ve known quite a few people both personally and professionally that can’t say the same. Their relationships are often built on guilt, shame, or obligation and at it’s worst, severed because loving one’s child or mother is based on a condition that doesn’t acknowledge the unique autonomy of each individual.

So, though my mother may drive me crazy and I may drive her to tears on occasion, we can still laugh and look at who we have become together, and enjoy that process and the one yet to come. I wish all the people in the world that have been blessed to have that experience of still choosing your mother a joyous day, and for those that don’t physically have her with them, a joyous day as well, for honoring the choice you were able to have.

I’ve included a poem I wrote for my mother last year and I hope it brings you as much joy as it brought that wacky lady I still call “Mommy”.

Happy Mother’s Day!!


My Mommy

Unedited and copyrighted by Janet Eckford

My Mommy
How do I describe someone that has always been mine
I’ve never had another,
And it seems strange to give voice,
Explanation, or expression to someone that has always existed
But I’ll try
My Mommy
When I was a little girl, was a power house of energy and purpose
Strong arms and soft kisses,
Whispered I love yous as I slept
“Can you read it one more time, Mommy”,
Seemed to always slip from my lips
Tight little ponytails, that tried to stay neat,
But couldn’t resist the bend of my will
Pink and purple dresses of lace and frill
And blue little corduroy pants for when I couldn’t keep still.
“Yes” and “Thank you” and “Please a little more”
Woven into my vocabulary by my watchful mother hen
Cluck, cluck, clucking her praise for her bright little chick
My Mommy
When I was a teenager was the woman that stared in awe and amazement
At the little girl who disappeared
Now there was angst
And, “Mommy, you just don’t understand.”
Friends and cars carried me to freedom
Beyond the safe little walls of home
I was a person
I had a purpose
And, “Mommy, this is not a phase!”
Was the mantra of who I thought I was
But words of wisdom that were hard to hear stayed ever present
And whispered I love yous while I slept filled my ears
Even when I pretended not to hear
My Mommy
Now I’m an adult
A woman
Ha, a word I still struggle associating with me
That woman, the power house of energy and purpose
That woman, is so small
She sees me, her creation of time, energy, strong arms and soft kisses
Words of rebuke and praise
Little girl grown up
Left to explore different shores
The mommy of my adult years is a person
With foibles and strength
Sometimes paralyzed by fear and insecurity
Another woman I must relate to
But often fail with harsh words spoken from misunderstanding
The nature of what we’ve become
Yet, some things remain the same
No longer whispered I love yous while I sleep
But calls of “I just wanted to hear your voice”
Happiness to see my face
Pride in who I am
Even if the process of being me is hard for her to comprehend
My Mommy
Will always be mine
And I will always be her “me”

To be short or not to be short, that is the question.


I’ve been quite the busy bee and haven’t had much time for writing. I’ve sent Fire and Ice off to be edited and that is it’s usual grueling process, but alas my muse has decided to take a hiatus. I’m not that worried because we have some what of an open relationship. When we are together, it’s magical, bursts of creativity and excitement. When we are apart, I miss the company, but find other things to occupy my time.

Currently, I’ve been thinking about my craft and my dedication to writing short stories. While visiting with a writer friend of mine that also writes short stories (if a bit more high brow than my sexy times) we started to lament the fact that people just don’t understand what a short story is. There are often complaints that it’s too short, or it was read in a short amount of time, or there needed to be more character development. I’ll confess I’ve always found those complaints confusing because, those things are how I always defined a short story. I’m not in the habit of citing Wikipdedia when constructing a critique but their page on the short story was actually really good at encapsulating what I’d always thought and found confusing when others didn’t see it my way when it came to the short story. Not that people have to agree with me all the time, but clearly…

Yet, critique is always a good thing and even when my view and others clashes I like to take the time to look at it from their perspective. So while my muse is off peddling it’s wares with some other creator of prose I’m looking at why I’ve chosen the short story as a medium to showcase my talent, and focus on how I can make it that much better.


If you’ve got something nice to say…

Greetings Readers,

I don’t think it’s much of a surprise if I confess to being an avid reader. It is a passion I have sustained since I could actually decipher words in my Sesame Street books. Now what you may find odd is I often think of my reading choices as a deeply personal thing. I’m of the mindset that either I like the book or I don’t. When I like a book I’ll usually tell a friend, follow the author, and on occasion I’ve been known to become obsessed with said author. When I don’t like a book I’ll usually tell a friend, chastise the author whilst scowling at my Kindle, and on occasion I’ve been known to become obsessed with how that person got published.

When I first started my blog I had high hopes of reviewing books, and actually dedicated a few posts to said reviews. My interest in reviewing quickly waned because I’m very much an, “if I don’t have something nice to say, I don’t say anything at all” kind of gal when it comes to reviewing (have to put that caveat in because I can talk mad shit about folks at times). Therefore, when I started looking at my reviews I noticed they could be construed as favoritism. For me that didn’t sit well, particularly as an author. I know that I talk at length at how inappropriate I can be, and if you have ever spent time with me in either cyber space or the real world you know it’s true, but I’m also a very ethical person. I believe in transparency and fairness and at some point when I thought about doing reviews on my blog I (this is my personal choice and I am not throwing shade at those that do it) couldn’t reconcile being an author that also reviews.

Now when one decides something, that’s usually when the Universe comes along and goes, “Ah ha!”. In my case it was my decision to join a reading challenge for a group I’m a member of on Goodreads. I’d never been keen on joining reading challenges because 1) in my personal Goodreads account I only ever communicate with my friends and have the account set to private 2) in my author Goodreads account I only ever use it to communicate with fans and don’t have any books on my bookshelf. It was the proverbial what shall I do, that required a friend going, “Oi! You will do this!”. Okay, she didn’t really say that but there was a push to step out of my comfort zone and I did do it and I thoroughly enjoyed.

Yet, there was a catch. I had to do a rating for the two books I was given. Gah! Books that are in the same genre that I write in. Gah Squared! What to do? What to do indeed! Well I’ve added them to my very lonely bookshelf and will ponder what the ratings shall be and probably obsess a great deal more than necessary.

BUT first I’ll at least include them in this blog with the caveat of, “I liked it.” Actually I liked them quite a bit. I was able to relate to the heroines and the hero’s were deliciously sexy. There were parts that irked me but over all I found the plots to be enjoyable and the sexy time nicely woven in. I finished each book with a smile and a contented sigh. Quite like the same response I get after being well fed. Which means I will tell a friend, follow the authors, and probably become quite obsessed with said authors. Also, it now seems I’ll be rating them as well. Gah to the Third Power!


Bleacke’s Geek
Lesli Richardson

When girl meets geek, the fur’s gonna fly.

Dewi Bleacke is a no-nonsense Prime Alpha wolf. As head Enforcer of the Targhee pack, she’s in charge of Florida. Her assignment is to kill a dirtbag who sold his daughter. She doesn’t expect to find her handsome, albeit geeky, soulmate in the process.

Dr. Heathcliff McKenzie Ethelbert lives a quiet, boring life. A professor at USF, he has no girlfriend, no car, and is a devout vegetarian. So when a mysterious woman with mocha eyes literally drags him out of his booth and then proceeds to have her way with him, it’s not his average night out. When she follows their sexy interlude by abducting him after killing a man, he suspects life has just taken a drastically odd turn.

Now Dewi, her partner Beck, and her surrogate father Badger, have to educate her new “grazer” mate on the ways of the Targhee wolves. “Ken” does his best to fit in. But an old killer lurks in the shadows–the wolf who murdered Dewi’s parents. Can she keep Ken safe, or will her mate prove to everyone that he’s a lot more than just Dewi Bleacke’s geek?

Vanilla on Top
C.J. Ellisson

Discover your inner bad girl, and set her free…

Heather Pierce is done being a wallflower, both personally and professionally. Desperate to live a different life for one night, she attends a speed dating event. Maybe here, anonymous unless she chooses otherwise, she can become someone new. When a man way out of her league sits across from her, Heather gathers her courage and takes charge of what she wants, secretly fearing he won’t desire the real person she’s desperate to hide.

Top acquisitions officer and international playboy Tony Carmine is about to close the biggest deal of his career. But then he meets Heather at a speed dating event…and discovers losing control may be exactly what he needs. Her blossoming sensuality occupies his every thought, consuming him with the need to possess the most intriguing lover he’s ever encountered–until he walks into the boardroom and sees Heather on the other side of the negotiating table.

When authors make me love them more..


Today has not been a splendid Monday, (which is pretty much an oxymoron) and I am not the happiest of campers (which is an interesting analogy as I am never happy while camping) and decided I needed to read a story that has a heroine with heavy artillery or a sword. Why you may ask, because reading is an escape that allows me to live vicariously through the character. When I’m in a smexy mood I want to read about incredibly sexy men lavishing ordinary women with sexual attention that acknowledges the goddess that exists in all women. When I’m particularly angsty I’ll pick up some YA and read about a teenage girl that is weighted down my the oppressive constraints of a society that just “doesn’t get her” and when I’m annoyed, pissed off at situations outside of my control, I want to read about a woman that picks up her high powered rifle, or big ass sword and yells, “bring it on” to the world.

So I set out on a quest because I knew one of the authors I adore is coming out with a new release and I desperately needed a kick ass chick in my life. But because this was a Monday that had decided to keep its greedy little claws firmly latched into my soft underbelly, my kick ass chick reading is delayed for another day. Shaking my fist in the air at the unfairness of release dates that do not adhere to my timetable I decided to go explore said authors site.

Now if you follow me on FB, Twitter or any of the other social networking sites where I proudly display my level of neurosis you’ve come to understand how obsessive I can be about things I like, and people are not excluded from this obsession. I’m not going to say I stalk, because that would be illegal and therefore stupid to admit to in such a public forum, but I will say I become heavily involved in researching my newest person of interest. Work has kept me busy and I’d scaled back on my fangirl behavior when it’ come to Seanan McGuire’s (this is the author I’m about to spend an embarrassing and lengthy amount of time gushing over) blog. She is also the author that’s book is not adhering to my release timetable (shameful) and I had to appease my ire with catching up on her witty commentary.

Low and behold whilst going through past blogs I discover a post that has me contemplating naming my next pet after her (no children for me but this is the highest honor one can receive besides becoming my imaginary spouse, and I wouldn’t want to freak her out if I just wife her without prior contact, therefore the naming of my furry children seems far less crazy…it makes sense in my head) and beaming with pride.

I’m going to link the post because it is far too lovely for me to summarize BUT I will say as a person that has half naked women (and men) on her covers because peeps are all about being naked between the pages, this was a brilliant analysis (and possibly minor rant) on societal perceptions of women’s bodies and cover art.

Just brilliant and even if I didn’t get my sword or high powered rifle I’m still left with an adrenaline buzz and the need to shout…pa…pa…pa…POW!


Time on my hands…

Hola Beautifuls,

I’ve finished expanding parts on my WIP Fire and Ice and am letting it sit awhile to see if I’m really ready to let it go to edits. Therefore, I have a little time on my hands and no inclination to do anything with it. Well except pen excerpts from stories I have no intention of completing. But at least I share.



Untitled and unedited BUT copyrighted by Janet Eckford

His fingertips lazily trail along the curve of my arm, mapping the texture of my skin, and I resist the urge to giggle as the touch tickles ever so slightly. This is not the time for giggles of course and I remain still so those teasing fingertips of his can explore other contours of my frame.

“You are so soft.”

His whispered words at the nap of my neck causes my skin to tingle with anticipation of the feel of his lips in the same location. I sigh softly and fit myself tighter in the spoon of our bodies pressed closely together. His hand seems to have become jealous of his wondering fingertips and splays itself across my bare hip, claiming more purchase of the skin it finds so intriguing.

“I love the feel of you.”

He shifts as he whispers the words and I am struck with the thought of how I love the feel of him too, especially when he is fit snugly inside of me.