All I want to know is: do I need my umbrella and rain coat tomorrow?  Never did find out.  I’m still being subjected to a ribbon along the bottom of my TV screen to update me to the tow truck pursuit.

The worst part! The newscasters who waste my time and theirs trying to figure out why someone is driving a tow truck and being pursued by the cops.  Excuse me!  Who Cares?  I don’t.  And I don’t want to hear another inane stupidity from a newscaster trying to assign  a purpose to the unknown driver.  Is the reason why they stole a tow truck relevant when no one really knows.  It’s not like they have a direct link to the tow truck driver so they can ask him/her (yes, we did have a woman on one long term pursuit–high speed (and low speed) pursuits are equal opportunity pursuits).

The newscasters are the worst.  They wasted more time theorizing why the person took the truck and no matter what they say, later when the real reason comes out, it’s never what the news people thought.  So why bother.  Oh!  I get it.  Fill the air time with stupidity.  No one wants dead air.

Okay tow truck, will you please run out of gas and save my sanity.  Thank you. That didn’t happen, either.

So, let’s establish some boundaries.  No more news about high speed, or in this case, low speed pursuits. Once I’ve heard the weather report, you can hypothesize and theorize on every stupid reason why the tow truck, the Cadillac, or BMW driver stole, borrowed or just plain got caught doing whatever once I know if it’s going to rain tomorrow or not.

So, are we there yet?  Oh, wait? The cops are on my tail, no bathroom breaks until I run out of gas.

Chapter One

After an intense, nearly sleepless week in Mexico City extracting the family of a witness who was testifying against a Mexican drug cartel and twelve hours on a plane, Noah Callahan could barely keep his eyes open.  Back in the day, he would finished the job, hopped off the plane and then partied all night.  Not anymore.  Even though he was only thirty-six, at the moment he felt ninety-six.  He wanted nothing more than to sink onto the comfortable sofa against the wall and sleep for twenty-four hours, except Harrison had dragged him out of the terminal and into this meeting with a possible client before Noah had a chance to blink.

Wilder Bennington was a tall, slim, dark haired man wearing a dark gray ten thousand dollar suit that fit him to perfection, like the old world elegance of his office. Dark wood paneling covered the walls.  A carpet deep enough to mask any sound stretched from wall to wall, and a black lacquer desk sat perpendicular to the windows so Bennington could enjoy the view.  A sitting area at the other end of the large office contained large over-stuffed chairs in cream leather and two sofas in dark brown leather.

The view out the window was prime Times Square real estate.  Wilder Bennington had money, lots of money and influence.  The background check Harrison had complied and Noah had read in the car on the way here had done nothing to prepare him the man in person.  Even though he knew as much as Harrison could find out about Bennington and his sister, Lulu, Noah was still impressed.

“I thought there would be more of you,” Bennington said with a sharp glance at them.

“I asked your assistant to put our team else in the conference room while Harrison and I checked things out.”  Even though the room was large enough to hold ten times the number of people Noah had brought, he hadn’t wanted Wilder Bennington to feel overwhelmed by so many strangers invading his personal space.

“To decide if you wanted to take the job or not?” Wilder said with a shrewd, studied glance at Noah.

Good, this guy didn’t pull any punches.  Noah respected that. “Something along those lines.”

“I’m not here to audition for you.”

“We understand that, Mr. Bennington.” Harrison’s eyebrows rose.  “Why hire us?  You have your own security team?”

Bennington pinched the bridge of his nose, controlled anger showing in the clenched tightness of his jaw.  “My sister is not taking the threats seriously.  Every suggestion from my security team has been turned aside or simply ignored.”

Being ex-Delta Force had taught Noah to read people quickly, because survival depended on it.  Bennington was a man used to getting his own way.  The fact that he wanted to hire Global Protective Services Inc. meant things were going sideways in a way Bennington couldn’t control.  “How so?”

The man’s jaw clenched even tighter and he held his hands straight against his side.  “Lulu refuses to believe anyone would dislike her enough to want to kill her.”

“A lot of people find it hard to believe someone wants to kill them.”  Noah didn’t want to look a gift paycheck in the mouth but did he want to take a puff job?  He didn’t need a New York society babe conjuring up fake threats just so she could run around New York with a gang of bodyguards in tow like little purse dogs.  But then again, as a fairly new company Noah needed the money and doing a job for media tycoon Bennington would go a long way toward cementing his company’s reputation.  Except if they were just spinning their wheels babysitting for some poor, little rich girl.

“Dave Larkins recommended you,” Bennington said with a glare.

“I’ve met Dave Larkins, he’s very good at what he does.”   Larkins, Bennington’s head of security, was a hard ass, ex-army ranger Noah had run into a couple of times in Afghanistan.  The man had a rep for handling his business.

“He is or he wouldn’t be working for me.”

Noah glanced at Harrison.   This guy was wound really tight.  “I see.”

Bennington’s eyes narrowed betraying a deeper level of tension.  “Dave’s a good man,’ he said, “but Lulu introduced him to his wife and is also his son’s godmother.  She can get him to do whatever she wants.  I need someone who won’t cave in to my sister’s…ability to wrap people around her little finger.”

“She sounds stubborn,” Noah said.  The background check had given him facts about these people, but not who they really were.  His sense of caution deepened.  He wanted to say not interested, but instead folded his arms over his chest and studied Bennington waiting.  “Why not let the police handle this situation?”

Noah doubted the police would do much of anything except take a report.  The department was under-staffed and over-worked and the current political climate was determined to down-size them even more.

Bennington pinched the bridge of his elegant nose.  “You don’t read my newspaper do you?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”  Noah was a Times man.   Not that there was anything wrong with Bennington Media’s many newspapers, Noah just like the predictability of the Times.

Wilder took a deep breath.  “I’m not a fan of the new Police Commissioner.  I’ve been very vocal about it.”

As far as Noah was concerned, any guy, who owned one of the biggest media corporations in universe, could talk all the shit he wanted about whoever he wanted.   From what he heard from his contacts in the NYPD not many of the rank and file cops were fans either.

Bennington closed his eyes.  “I’m not risking my sister’s life on the personal vendetta of an idiot.”

Said idiot being the police commissioner.   Hell, Noah didn’t trust that man to find his shoes much less stop a crime.

Noah considered all his options one more time.  “I want to meet your sister.”  That should give him more of a clue as to whether he should accept the assignment or not.

Bennington checked his gold Patek Philippe watch.  “She should be here anytime now.”

Translation, the princess is taking her sweet time, Noah thought.  He’d bet the twenties in his wallet, the sister would be at least another half an hour.

Bennington glanced at the open double doors into the reception area beyond.  His face suddenly looked pinched and worried. “While we’re waiting for her, I’d like to meet the rest of your team.”

“I’ll get them,” Harrison said and walked out of the office.

Next on our busy schedule will be Iva’s story from Vegas  Bites: Three of a Kind.  The title is tentatively titled Vegas Bites: From Vegas With Love.  And then barring any other changes in the direction of our lives, we’re going to write Sunny’s story from the Suite series.  The title is tentatively Suite Sunsations.  The title came to me in a dream.  I had to get up at 3 am to write it down because I knew I wouldn’t remember in the morning.  Unless we have anymore interruptions to our schedule, this is what we’re planning to accomplish for 2012.

Happy 2012 to everyone.

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You never know about a person until you’ve traveled with them.

Artemis Stephanos has her life all figured out. First on her list is keeping her family in line. Second is keeping the family business afloat. And third, staying as afar away from marriage as she can get even as her flock of younger sisters urge her to take that trip down the aisle so they can follow. What Artie didn’t figure out was how to not fall in love with her runaway cousin’s fiance.

Nick Constantine isn’t thrilled about marrying Artie’s cousin, but as a member of a traditional Greek family, arranged marriages are the norm. And a contract is a contract. What he doesn’t expect is to have his almost bride take off on a cross country trip to find herself, while he trails behind with Artie in tow and trying not to fall in love with the child/woman, shrew businessperson/thrill a minute mixture that is Artie Stephanos.

Join Artie and Nick on a cross-country pursuit that is filled with as many surprises as the contents of Artie’s almost magical purse and two people who never thought love would happen to them.

Have a Happy Christmas and a Joyous New Year

Miriam and Jackie  writing as J.M. Jeffries

Thanksgiving is a day of wonderful memories for me.  Getting together with my family as a child and seeing all my aunts, uncles, cousins, my grandparents.  Some of my happiest moments are at Thanksgiving: the birth of my daughter, the family get-togethers, the wonderful cooking and the smells permeating the house.  Even though those memories are darkened by the loss of my husband who passed away on Thanksgiving Day, I’ve tried to see the positive side to even that.

I think about all the things I’m grateful for: my family, my friends, my life.  My family is my rock.  My friends are my blessings, and my life is still unfolding.  I’m even grateful for glue both physical and metaphorical.  For without glue things would fall apart, the hems on my clothes would fall down, my life would fall apart.

What are you thankful for?  Let me know.

Until next time, Miriam

Protecting Lulu, February 2012

Darcy’s Margic, Fall 2013

The new book is currently titled Darcy’s Magic and because it’s a Christmas book and the 2012 Christmas books are already filled, it will be a 2013 release.  We are thrilled and delighted.  A special thank you to Shannon Criss of Harlequin Kimani.

Wishing everyone a Happy Thankgiving.

For me a good story engages my interest, has characters I can fall in love with, creates a believable world and connects to an idea.  We all have ideas that we tell ourselves will make a great story, but once we start working on it, after awhile the idea just doesn’t pan out.  As many things can go askew as can go right.

To me a good story has an enduring story idea that creates enduring scenes that move the story forever forward until it concludes in a manner that is both satisfying and appropriate to the story.  Which sort of brings me to the crux of my reason for this blog.

Of late I’ve read a number of stories that moved along with engaging characters and enduring story ideas. Yet when I got the end, the stories fell apart.  Why?  In my opinion the author didn’t work enough on the antagonist (or villain) giving the antagonist a good enough reason for trying to thwart the protagonists (hero, heroine) and keep them from attaining their goals.  For some reason, insane villains have cropped up in writing who do things that keep the plot moving forward, but in the end the reason for why they do what they do is because they are insane. Say what?

I don’t like insane villains who have no other reason for being in the story than to be insane and provide insane acts to puzzle and threaten the main characters.  No matter how insane a villain is, the character must be as motivated to want what they want as the protagonists.  Insanity by itself is not motivation.  Every character in a story must have a reason for doing what they do.  The answer to why the villain does what they do should never be ‘because he/she is insane.’  Even insane people have a reason for acting the way they do.  And the reason must make sense to the reader.

This is a subject I’ve visited in the past.  And will probably return to in the future.  So in my mind, an insane villain does not help create an enduring story.  Insane villains are a cop out. They are easy to construct because the author feels they don’t have to provide them with any other motivation.

What about you?  Have you read a book with an insane villain that didn’t provide any motivation other than the idea that the villain is insane?  How does that make you feel?  Is the story complete?  Or do you feel left hanging by the too easy wrap up?  Because no matter how insane a villain may be, the reader should still have an answer the question, why.

Please share your experiences with insane villains.  Leave a comment in the box below.  Thank you.

Till next time, Miriam

Global Protection Agency:  Protecting Lulu by J.M. Jeffries coming in  February 2012

The answer isn’t easy because Jackie and I have vastly different reading tastes.  She loves erotica and I read a lot of science fiction and fantasy.  She loves Regencies and I like funny mysteries.

What am I reading right now?  Last Breath (The Morganville Vampires) by Rachel Caine.  Before that, Ghost Ship (Liaden Universe) by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller.  Fire Works in the Hamptons by Celia Jerome, a new author I discovered last spring.  Her books are so funny, I giggle my way through them.  Also,I have been reading Cherie Priest whose last book was Dreadnaught.  I’m not big for Steampunk but I do enjoy a couple of authors.  Victoria Laurie’s two paranormal mystery series.  I’ve also found a couple of independent authors who have self-published some amazing books.  Barbra Annino who writes the Stacy Justice mystery series.  Camila Chafer whose two books, Illicit Magic and Unruly Magic I really enjoyed.  Also, I like the Mary O’Reilly Paranormal mysteries by Terri Reid.  And last of all I adore George R.R. Martin, I devour his books, and David Weber whose Honor Harrington military space stories will always be treasured beyond measure.

Jackie loves hot, hot paranormal romances.  She loves Lynn Viehl Kyndred books, anything by Christine Warren, Lora Leigh.  She also reads Jacquelyn Frank’s The Nightwalkers.  She also likes romantic suspense.  Shannon Butcher and Jaci Burton.  She also likes Victoria Dahl and adores Suzanne Brockman.  She also likes Lee Child and Tess Garritson.

We both read Chloe Neill’s Chicagoland Vampires, Kelly Meding, Jim Butcher and Katayna Price.

We both have TBR piles that are taller than we are.  Jackie’s more organized that I am.  I just have all my books in a pile on my dresser.  Jackie has her books organized into small piles of 4 or 5 books.  Each pile has one regency, one paranormal romance, an historical, an erotica and depending on her mood a serial killer mystery.  Jackie’s a little more bloodthirsty than I am.  I like puzzles, she likes shoot first and ask questions later type books.  Sometimes I’m amazed that we can come together to write the way we do since we are so different and bring such different reading tastes to the table.  What works for us, works.

Until next time Miriam

COMING SOON

Marilyn Monroe was wrong. Rubies were a girl’s best friend.

Hestia Stephanos ran her fingers lovingly over the heart shaped ruby surrounded by dazzling diamonds and sapphires. Until a month ago, the necklace had been submerged in salt water for over three hundred and fifty years lost with the Santa Bernardine during a storm.

Spanish treasure never failed to turn her on. Tia turned the pendant over. Etched into the gold backing she translated the words ‘My Love’ and beneath the words the date, 1622. She thought for a moment, she was pretty sure she’d seen the necklace before, but couldn’t quite remember where. A drawing! A painting! She wracked her brain trying to remember.

As the head of the Stephanos Historical Foundation—an organization set up by her grandmother Moira O’Shaughnessy Stephanos—she loved this part of her job, seeing the first major find of an excavation. But her second favorite part was piecing together the mystery of how a priceless necklace ended up on the ocean floor. She turned to her library shelves and pulled out a half dozen art books.

Beyond the shelves, snow gleamed on the windowsill. New York sparkled in winter. She loved it. For a moment, she stared at the street below with people bundled up against the cold as they went about their business.  A dog walker wrestled with his canine charges while a women on turned down a path into Central Park her face covered in a muffler.

Tia smiled.  She loved her life except for one nagging little thing her mother would never let her forget. She wasn’t married.  Because her traditional Greek family believed in tradition, Tia had expected to stay single since her older sister, Artie had showed no interest in marriage until six months ago when she’d met Nick Constantine and promptly married him.  Tia, second eldest, had now come under her mother’s intense scrutiny to join the wifely ranks.

She sat back down at her desk. After perching thick, horn-rimmed glasses on her nose, she opened the first book, flipped through it and discarded it. The second and third book were perused and returned to the shelf. The sixth book, Royal Mistresses of Europe, fell open and Tia knew this was the correct book.  Sometimes, she simply had a sixth sense about something and just knew when she would find an answer. She looked through each section, examining each painting carefully taking her time. She slowed when she reached the section, Spanish Mistresses. The necklace was on page 238 draped about the elegant neck of ‘The Mistress’ to Philip IV of Spain. Tia’s fingers tingled.

The woman reclined on a fur-lined settee, arms behind her neck, breasts thrust forward, and legs crossed. The woman had no name, just a satisfied smile on her lush lips. The necklace rested against her peach colored skin, the pendant dangled provocatively between her full, rosy-tipped breasts.

“Jackpot.” Tia grinned, her heart racing.

The necklace was one of the most important finds the Foundation had made in the last five years. The fact was only marred by one thing, she had to share credit with Shane O’Malley, the treasure hunter whose grant request had produced this rare find. At the time, she had thought O’Malley incapable of finding his way around his own kitchen.

He had not impressed her with his diligence or his need, but eight months ago she had been overruled by the Board of Directors, namely her grandmother Moira who believed in his quest. Moira signed the check and promptly disappeared on her own quest, leaving Tia to deal with the impertinent Mr. O’Malley.

She had thought the money wasted, but then the package had arrived, brought to her personally by Jack Bickford, her assistant curator. O’Malley had presented Tia with the gemological equivalent of a slam-dunk. If only he could go the distance and justify the money he’d weaseled out of the foundation.  She didn’t have much faith in him which was why she’d sent Jack to Florida to keep an eye on the excavation.

Bending over the book, a silken tendril blue-black hair slid along the line of her cheek. She pushed the hair back behind her ear and tugged at an earring. Cool black jet slid between her fingers. The earring matched the black jet necklace she wore about her neck, inherited from her rebellious grandmother whose collection of antique jewelry rivaled that of Wallis Warfield Simpson, Duchess of Windsor. But unlike Wally, Moira purchased her baubles herself. She had not had to earn them the old-fashioned way.

A knock on the door drew her from her concentration.

“Come in,” she said.

Jack Bickford stood in the doorframe, balancing his crutches as he eased through the door. His navy Dockers were cut off at one knee to accommodate the walking cast covering his leg from toes to knee. As he moved, long brown hair swayed about his shoulders. Leaning his crutches against the wall, he eased into an over-stuffed leather chair and pushed back his tan, Indiana Jones fedora. “I’m not going back.”

“To Florida? Why not?” Tia eyed him innocently.

“The place is a hell-hole.  It’s hot, humid and the bugs are bigger than my head.”

“But Jack, New York is in the grip of the worst winter we’ve had in years. Who wouldn’t want to go to sunny Florida for an all-expense paid vacation?”

“Not me.” He reached down to rub the cast. “I hate alligators. I hate fish. I hate water. I’m not going back. I’d rather spend a week on Stanton Island.” He shook his head back and forth, vehemently, “instead of that island zoo.”

Tia stared at him, unable to believe he was leaving a job in the middle. “Nothing is that terrible.”

“You weren’t there.” He brushed a smooth hand across his face, “the horror, the horror.”

“Jack,” Tia slapped her desk, “get over it.” She had to make him go back otherwise she would be forced to go in his place. She hated the thought of leaving the confines of her safe museum, her office, her comfortable little world. She didn’t like messy anything. “You have to go back.”

“You go. I simply can’t return and face that wacky Noah’s Ark O’Malley calls a home.  And that includes his kids.”

“But, Jack.” Tia picked up the necklace and swung it back and forth. “This could be the find of the millennium.” She held up the book with Philip’s nude mistress and pointed at the necklace around the woman’s neck. “Your name will be all over it. Think of the glory, the prestige, the better class of women you can seduce.” She knew his weaknesses—his ego and his libido.

“I almost lost my family jewels to that rapacious lizard.” He squeezed his thighs together and whined.

She held up her hands spaced a few inches apart. “It was just a little alligator.”

“With big teeth. You weren’t looking into the jaws of death.”

“Jack.” Tia pointed at him. “I’ve known you for ten years. You’ve excavated caves in the middle of civil wars, and stared down Contras with nothing but a smile. You eat cheap, petty dictators for breakfast.”

“So what’s your point?”

She smiled at him, hoping she looked calm. “I can’t believe you’re afraid of one little, itty-bitty, teeny-weeny baby alligator.”

Jack glared at her. “You go.”

“Jack—”

“You go.” He jabbed a bony finger at her.

“Someone from the Foundation has to be on site, that’s always been you.”

He glared at her, a mulish glint in his eyes. “You qualify, too.”

Tia hated Florida. She hated anywhere out of Manhattan, but especially Florida. Bugs, creepy-crawly things and kamikaze flying insects were not her idea of a pleasant recreational experience. “Indiana Jones would go,” she coaxed in a last-ditch effort.

Jack stared at her, a deep frown on his handsome face. He stood, took off his fedora, and stuffed it on her head. “Be my guest, Indy.” He grabbed his crutches and hobbled out. She took the hat off, leaned back in her chair, picked up the necklace and draped it around her neck. The pendant settled into the hollow between her breasts.

Even through her thick, turtle neck sweater, she felt the jeweled pendant grow warm. She stroked the jewel, thinking about the nameless woman in the painting who had owned this extraordinary ruby. And the man—she had seen paintings of King Philip. He had an elegant, sensual aura to him and a royal manner that would have excited women in any age.

Tia fingered the necklace again. Deep inside the ruby, shards of fire danced. Twisting and turning the gem to catch the light from her window, a flutter of pleasure shot through her.

Reluctantly, she removed the necklace and set it down on the desk. A postcard from her sister, Artie and new husband, Nick Constantine, lay on the blotter. Tia read the postcard again, happy for them, yet ambivalent over her own feelings that the family was going in new directions. Her mother had been pressuring, in her typical sledgehammer manner, for Tia to start her own husband search.

Tia wasn’t certain she wanted to be married. She had figured she’d be safe since Artie had spent most of her adult life avoiding the marital trap. But Nick had caught her, and caught her well.

She pushed away from her desk. After storing the necklace in the wall safe, she told her secretary to book her flight to Miami and points onward to Shane O’Malley’s Diablo Island.

Noah Wyle is superb as a college professor turned soldier.  With military history as his forte, he brings a different perspective to the fighting often comparing it to ancient battles and how certain tactics worked and didn’t work and how people banded together to take back their own.  It’s also ironic that the show is placed in Boston, the heart of the American Revolution.

Noah’s little band of freedom fighters is led by a seasoned soldier who tends to not want to listen to Noah’s suggestions, but when he does he realizes there’s more to Noah’s dissertation than just hypothetical pomposity.  Some tactics work, some don’t.  They regroup and try again.

The mystery is why the aliens need the children who are fitted with a harness that is slowly revealed to be more than just a device to control them.  What I like best about the show is the slow and logical way the freedom fighters uncover information about the aliens and about themselves.  Some bits of info are obtained in a brutal manner, but others are obtained through observation.  Little hints are dropped along the way that don’t pay out until several episodes later.

Last night was the season finale and the series won’t be back until summer 2012.  I don’t know if I can wait that long.  Okay, I was a little bitter knowing I’d have to wait that long, but then I realize the anticipation will keep me thinking about it.

This is a show worth watching, not only for the interaction between the characters, but the way they are rebuilding a new civilization, the practical problems of survival in such an uncertain environment and the knowledge that life will never be the same again.  Also, I’m constantly thinking about how other cities and countries are dealing  with the aliens since this is a global invasion.  There’s lots of story potential here that could keep this series going for years.  I’m hoping the ScyFy channel picks it up.

What the series did spur in me was a desire to go back to writing science fiction and fantasy.  Jackie’s not too thrilled about the idea, but I’m going to manipulate her and make her think it’s her idea.  Sh!  Don’t anyone tell her what I said. Popular TV series like Falling Skies and Game of Thrones is a shot in the arm for writers by introducing new ideas and new thoughts about directions in writing. If people are watching these shows as avidly as I did, they’ll want books about similar situations, pushing writers to try our wings in many different directions.  So I’m pushing Jackie, though it is like trying to push a twenty ton boulder uphill.