tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41643004482486784672023-11-16T08:51:51.056-08:00Author Jordyn TraceyJordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-85745870228415928712009-06-27T20:38:00.000-07:002009-06-27T20:56:14.091-07:00Harsh Reality Versus FantasySo recently, I was visiting a site where readers were discussing what they like and what they don't like in IR (interracial romance). Someone said she hates when the hero is always some filthy rich guy, and she wonders why he can't be a regular Joe. A few others agreed with her, and one reader said she likes the hero being rich. I didn't continue with thread to see if there were other varying opinions.<br /><br />So I was thinking about it. What you'll find in my works are ordinary women, broke, busted, disgusted alot of times, trying her best to make ends meet. She'll be in a bad relationship or just out of one and can't find a good man to save her life. I don't know. It's what I like. I think it's the tools to making a strong woman, or a woman who is on her way to getting stronger. She hasn't arrived. I have no interest in writing about a woman who has already clawed her way to the top and is filthy stinking rich in her own right, and frankly she doesn't need a man except for sex, and has no problem telling him so. That's not what I write, ladies who prefer that, sorry.<br /><br />On the other hand, you are not likely to find my hero being a regular Joe. I do not like a weak, busted and disgusted man. I do not fantasize about the trashman or the mailman sweeping me off my feet. I'm sorry. What I do fantasize about is the guy who can help make the financial issues disappear, who will sweep me away. I'm sorry, but that turns me on. So I create a hero who is all those things and more. He just has a few issues he also has to work out.<br /><br />Is that not reality? So what. It's fiction. My heroine doesn't exist anymore than this rich guy does. I made them up. I named them. I dropped them into a particular situation and gave them a life, problems, joys, and heartbreaks. It's all fiction. I know you want harsh reality on all points, but I don't.<br /><br />I love pleasing my readers. I would not be where I am if I did not have them, but at the same time, I can't get off on pairing my girl to the stock boy at the supermarket. Can't do it. Haha.<br /><br />So when you're reading Jordyn Tracey's work, remember, her heroines will be identifiable. Her heroes will be a little larger than life with a few issues. I hope you can still enjoy it. I know I do. Lol.Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-30962448785401740082009-05-26T06:43:00.000-07:002009-05-26T06:50:57.280-07:00Why do I like FacebookSometimes...uh...most of the time, I have nothing to blog on, nothing long and interesting. My life is boring with no real upsets. That's good and bad. But I want a Web presence that's up to date with what's on my mind or what I'm working on without having a full Web site to update. I'm lazy if you haven't read between the lines of what I wrote above yet. Haha.<br /><br />Anyway, on Facebook, I can just toss up a line or two and call it a post. I feel accomplished because I have shown up online and can call it "promo" or reaching out to readers or whatever makes me feel less guilty about not having a real Web site.<br /><br />Sometimes I forget to visit Facebook, but then I think "I wonder what X author is doing right now. I wonder what she's writing or thinking." So I stroll on over to Facebook to see if she's said anything lately, and sure enough, she has, and I like getting all in her business that way. Haha. Yes, that means I'm also nosey. I'm not ashamed to admit it.<br /><br />In this way, Facebook serves it's purpose. I can update myself on what my favorite authors are doing if they do use Facebook, and I can update my readers on what's on my mind as well. At least I hope that's what I'm doing. I don't know if anyone ever reads my blog since I don't go blog hopping, but just in case, here you go, a little insight into the nut that is Jordyn Tracey.Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-47491466241298790652009-05-26T06:35:00.000-07:002009-05-26T06:36:12.585-07:00HummusSo hummus. What's up with that? I keep hearing about this stuff and how people love it. I used to work at a place where if you brought it in and left it on the kitchen counter with some crackers, it would be gone in half an hour tops. Why??? I bought some this weekend. Choked it down because i paid for it, but I'm not getting it. I *wanted* to love it. Chick peas. WTH??Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-23491132806302455092009-05-11T15:09:00.000-07:002009-05-11T15:10:59.728-07:00I'm Having A Contest!!!!<div align="center">Come one! Come all!!<br />Jordyn is having a contest!!<br />Do you want to Win not one, not 2 but 3<br />Autographed copies of her books<br />Well here's what you do....<br /><br />Be jordyn's Friend and that's it!<br />Find her on Facebook by Typing her name in the Search<br />Then Send her a friend Request<br />When she adds you to her buddy List<br />Then you are automatically entered to win!!<br />It's that easy...<br />And for you guys who are saying<br />"Well hey I am on her friend list already what about us??"<br />We haven't forgotten you either!<br />Just leave her a comment on her Facebook page<br />And you will be entered as well!!<br /><br />What do you win<br />3 of her print books from Sugar and Spice press!<br />www.sugarandspicepress.net<br />An advance copy of her newest release<br />His Heart<br />&<br />Copies of Color blind 1 & 2<br />All signed just for you!<br />So enter away and keep your fingers crossed to win!<br />This contest Ends May 31st so hurry hurry hurry!! </div>Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-50266563164254233542009-04-27T05:48:00.000-07:002009-04-27T05:49:06.002-07:00Burn My BraSo a friend of mine told me about the Butterfly bra from Ashley Stewart. I thought it was great idea, being that it takes the pressure off your shoulders and puts all the support in your back. But it's still a freaking underwire bra, which I don't wear. Underwires dig into my underarm. They never fit underneath the boulders. And Right at the front, they poke out. I hate that! So why are the really cute ones underwire?<br /><br />I tried the Butterfly. It's so much material that I could go without a shirt and think I'm dressed. Lol. So huge! My shoulders were footloose and fancy free just like promised, but I was locked in a cage behind underwire. I wanted to cut my way out to freedom. Am I shaped funny or what for cripes sake? Can I get support, cuteness and no wire? What's up with that?<br /><br />Well I guess me and the girls have to continue our hunt for the perfect bra...Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-5830141107645888632009-04-10T17:08:00.000-07:002009-04-10T17:11:43.821-07:00My Yummy Bryant<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjScUnNe7kkhLcM5kyF2sgtm5OVcvoUJYvSmQvdeGIuIXU8C0ZZ9LiGBg59ip1NWg555XizUY5hHfbJ2rGAWCntJyHI8jgHh0_qaS8llYZ5IB8dPcjYppz_5MNRckpcFyntGwW_gRlV59u8/s1600-h/hisheartsmall.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323219411249254482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjScUnNe7kkhLcM5kyF2sgtm5OVcvoUJYvSmQvdeGIuIXU8C0ZZ9LiGBg59ip1NWg555XizUY5hHfbJ2rGAWCntJyHI8jgHh0_qaS8llYZ5IB8dPcjYppz_5MNRckpcFyntGwW_gRlV59u8/s400/hisheartsmall.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Octavia "Tae" Stokes thinks the most important thing in her life is to achieve her dream of becoming a nurse, even if it means leaving her small town boyfriend behind while she goes off to college and tries to forget about him. But fate deals her a hand she could not have planned for. She finds hers dreams shattered when an accident leaves her scared for life and hiding from the world, especially from the man's whose heart she broke.<br /><br />After proposing to the woman who will always hold his heart and being turned down, Bryant sees no other option but to join the army. Who could have predicted that a war in Iraq would have him stationed half way around the world fighting for his and his buddies' lives? When he finally comes home after a near fatal injury and the loss of his best friend, it is not Tae but Leena who is waiting for him. But Leena is not all she pretends to be, and a soldier needs someone to hold onto, someone to love.<br /><br />Can Tae forgive herself for her past mistakes and move past her outward appearance to help heal a soldier's heart?<br /><br />COMING SOON TO: <a href="http://www.sugarandspicepress.net/">www.sugarandspicepress.net</a>Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-64075420964419590252009-04-10T06:50:00.000-07:002009-04-10T06:51:21.906-07:00Wanted tea, nothing special...I just wanted tea, something soothing to warm the belly and a touch of sweetness to ease the ache. I saw a video suggestion of vanilla chai and found White Tea something or other chai. It had vanilla in it and honey and some other ingredients. <br /><br />I loved the vanilla taste but there was another that was stightly off-putting. So I can only drink 2/3 thirds of a cup, and I'm forced to keep going through it because I have two boxes of the stuff. Sigh. Oh yeah and the somewhat ick ingredient? Black pepper. Yep, you can taste it in there. That's just unnatural! Or I am. Haha.Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-20179093490542052942009-04-09T07:08:00.000-07:002009-04-09T07:09:27.827-07:00I'm Feeling AccomplishedI made great progress today and last night. I worked singlemindedly since I woke up for the day and last night as well. For those who know me, that's miraculous. Got lots completed. Last night before I went to bed, I wrote a few notes on various scenes I wanted to add into my book. I'm happy with that, but still nervous because this book is different but the same for stories I've done. I can't explain it. When I get further along, I'll do a blurb or something.<br /><br />I'm not getting any younger, and I feel stronly that I must live and enjoy each moment of my life. So I didn't want this year to be about a waiting game, a wishing for it to end so my friend will come home. I thought a good idea would be to set a few goals that I could see happening over the year and enjoy. It would also serve to distract me from moping around.<br /><br />With dread I looked a my credit card and other large debt and thought, why not figure out what I need to do to pay off these things and choose a time period. That would give me something to work on each month, something to look forward to and a sense of accomplishment. To me setting goals, whether financial or otherwise, is paramount for happiness in life. It gives you like I said that sense of accomplishment. I also think it builds self-esteem.<br /><br />I can't claim that I just woke up and thought I think I'll pay off some things. No, I was playing around on YouTube and came across a woman's video where she said she paid like $20,000 in debt off in 3 years. I first wanted to know what the heck she does to afford that. Because I saw that if I really wanted to do some damage, I would need $800 a month. Yeah right. I'd have to write until my fingers fall off. But I'm going to do what I need to and I believe I can pay off my credit card in one year, maybe less. I'm very happy with that plan.<br /><br />I'm excited about this because it isn't enough to just say I will pay a little extra on my payments every month. I needed a solid date to work toward and how much I would need to pay extra to reach it. Paying a little extra wasn't truly committing for me.<br /><br />Oh yeah, and I was annoyed that my scale went down 1/2 pound one day, went up 1/2 pound the next. I know. I know. Get off the freakin scale. No! Haha. I won't do it. I don't let it get me down too much, so I figure I can take it. I did my usual not eating breakfast for a couple hours until I had knocked out some work [You didn't think I was the healthy lifestyle example did you?] and went to my closet to get something. I stepped on the scale totally distracted and was happy that I was down below the stupid multiple of ten I hated. Lol.<br /><br />Well, gotta go. Gotta write.Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-88240609526949476232009-04-05T18:59:00.000-07:002009-04-05T19:08:12.003-07:00How I Came Up With My Book IdeaI love the song Same Script Different Cast, sung by Whitney Houston and Deborah Cox. I have no idea how old it is, but I just discovered it, and I just play it over and over and over again. It's not the words, but the sound of their voices and the music that I like. I do that with a lot of songs.<br /><br />So I was sitting there listening back-to-back, just replaying, and I was trying to come up with an emotional romance that really hit some painful places in the relationship with my heroine and hero, and just playing this song helped me come up with it. Don't worry, it's so not about a cheating partner or anything like that. I wanted to do something with failed relationships and how where we are in life sometimes affects the decisions we make and make or break our relationships with a significant other.<br /><br />I opened Microsoft Word and just began to plot it out, from start to finish. When I was done, I wasn't sure if it truly fit the chracters I normally develop. I thought it might be too raw in some ways, but I'm going to go with it.<br /><br />The book will have a soldier hero. It will of course be an interracial romance, and that's all I'm going to say about it. But I've already started, and I'm well on the way. After some soldier consultation with my buddy Dahlia, I'll be good to go. Can't wait to know what the readers think of it.Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-68486324187418432212009-04-04T08:33:00.000-07:002009-04-04T08:48:18.349-07:00Snacks 2I think I've found some temporary snacks. First I went with those cottage cheese and fruit things. I liked it great. Spread on my dry as the Sahara ry crackers, it worked out. But when I went back to the store to get more (I had only bought one to test out)I found that one of them has something like 400 grams of sodium. What the...? So I was back to square one. I needed something with enough fat in it to not leave me hungry and just enough sweetness to satisfy that craving as well. I don't know if I mentioned it but, protein (meat protein) and/or fat are natural appetite suppressants. Not fat and high sugar though. A lot of sugar can make you thirsty and hungry. Note how if you drink soda on a scorching hot day, you're still thirsty. It's the sugar.<br /><br />Anyway, I went with shredded sharp cheese. And I want to know why they can't make extra sharp shredded cheese? I want as much as bite in my cheese as I can get. With my rice crackers. Don't gag, they're okay. And I got cool whip and red apples. I skin the apples. Don't lecture me. If I force myself to eat that disgusting skin, I will give up eating apples because I hate it so much.<br /><br />The apples are not overly sweet although they're still not my favorite. I cut one up and put a few tablespoons of cool whip on it. Just good enough to be a cheap partfait. Okay, partfait I think is usually yogurt, but whatever. It's a great treat. So I get my salty snack without overdoing it. One quarter cup of shredded cheese and about 16 rice crackers. And after that I have one medicum cut up apple with the cool whip on top. Yum, yum, yum.<br /><br />I don't know how long this will last, but it's worked so far, and miraculously (can't you hear the choir singing) I was down 3 pounds this morning. I don't think it's the snacks, but I'm happy! Lol.<br /><br />And my boo wrote me so my world is temporarily in complete harmony.Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-26821140503559243892009-03-29T09:45:00.000-07:002009-03-29T09:46:20.619-07:00My Big Issue With SnacksThey're scary!<br /><br />My problem with snacks is that I haven't yet found the middle ground. Either they are bad for me and so sweet, my sugar craving goes haywire, and I'm falling off the wagon with one snack. Or they are not sweet at all, and I'm still craving sugar. I want a snack that is just sweet enough to ease the craving but not so sweet, I feel like losing my mind and swallowing the refrigerator. Yes, that's my reaction. Sugar makes me hungry. Freakin' weird.<br /><br />So today I went to the store and purchased plain yogurt, grapes, and an assortment of nuts. Oh and a package of Wasa crackers. Once upon a time, I remember eating the crackers slathered with with cream cheese and loving it. That was back on the Atkins diet or something. Maybe.<br /><br />Anyway, so I tried the plain yogurt, a few nuts (pistacios and almonds) and a few grapes all mixed together. Gross! Why didn't someone tell me plain yogurt is barely tolerable. It had no sweetness. The only sweetness I had was in the grapes, but they couldn't tone down the yogurt. I still believe in this snack because I enjoyed muching the nuts in there. Although eating fruit with anything else isn't one of my favorite things.<br /><br />So now I'm trying to figure out if there's a way to make the yogurt tolerable or should I spring for the extra calories and go for a more flavorful yogurt. I'm not concerned with healthy exactly (smacks hand) but I do want to keep it natural if I can.<br /><br />I need to find snacks that are not too many calories but also add just a hint of sweetness. Maybe I should add a dash of honey to the mix. Or something else?<br /><br />Well if you have suggestions, I'm happy to listen.Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-69006910371407699372009-02-05T07:33:00.000-08:002009-02-05T07:39:01.192-08:00Real Women Aren't Always What We ExpectSo I've gotten really great feedback for the most part with my novella, Loving Jiro. I did get one bad one recently that made me think. See in it, my heroine deals with physical and sexual abuse from her boyfriend and then she meets the hero, a really hot, really rich Japanese assassin.<br /><br />Anyway, the thing that pisses off some readers is the fact that my heroine dealt with a lot of crap from her boyfriend and for the most part put up with it. She had tried to run away, but he always found her, so at the time she met the hero, she was just struggling to make ends meet.<br /><br />The truth of the matter is that in real life, women who are being abused have different reactions. You might think that if it was you, you'd kill the guy or run away successfully or whatever. Yet, I know women personally who've been in this situation who could not see their way clear except through the help of someone that came into their lives who helped them to believe first that they deserved more, and second that it was possible to have more.<br /><br />As I wrote this story, I thought of my friend whose husband abused her for years. She left countless times. One of her kids had a complex about always keeping his shoes and coat on in readiness to run, he was so traumatized. But this woman did not get free until she met a man who was extremely kind to her. They became friends, and eventually she learned to stand, to be strong, and now they have been married more than a decade.<br /><br />Your ideal might never to take something like this, and never need a man to rescue you in the first place. We could get angry and look down on people, but the reality is that there are women like this, who need someone to believe in them, someone who will be their strength until they gain their own.<br /><br />My character grew from a woman who would work hard to pay her bills while suffering daily under her boyfriend's cruelty, to a woman who took care of business on her own, but after the love of Jiro helped her along the way. Think about it. If a trained assassin offered to kill the one that's hurting you, would you take him up on the offer or would you learn to stand strong?<br /><br />These are some of the issues that Kiara had to deal with, but loving Jiro made everything work out in the end.<br /><br />Jordyn Tracey<br /><a href="http://www.sugarandspicepress.net/">http://www.sugarandspicepress.net/</a>Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-11894450353711541612009-01-02T08:03:00.000-08:002009-01-02T08:09:48.622-08:00Taking Joy Released!!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAARC0yzXkno3CH2zA-ncE6TmEouAZzk7MEjpyYe7akpX6cMXG-MSsgFj0831Cm5VFRyH8T-sQBdt0D3sIjmpDfwdx5dXY2_5S7LDor2htZT01xSWIQRlHRK5ftXD1MJ3MhE5i6NJ1FLVP/s1600-h/takingjoysmall.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286728163638529522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAARC0yzXkno3CH2zA-ncE6TmEouAZzk7MEjpyYe7akpX6cMXG-MSsgFj0831Cm5VFRyH8T-sQBdt0D3sIjmpDfwdx5dXY2_5S7LDor2htZT01xSWIQRlHRK5ftXD1MJ3MhE5i6NJ1FLVP/s320/takingjoysmall.jpg" border="0" /></a>So excited. Taking Joy has been released, and I'm eager to know what readers think of this new book. Below is the blurb and an excerpt. Hope you like it.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.sugarandspicepress.net/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=7&products_id=17">Buy it here.</a><br /><br /><strong>Blurb</strong><br /><br />All Joy wants is to live right like her Mama taught her growing up. She works hard to provide for her three-year-old son. But when she loses her job and her baby's father has no legal solution, Joy thinks the next step for her is the thing that terrifies her more than anything--that she'll lose her son. Desperation leads her to break the law on her own, but when the upper scale store owner catches her, his proposition is not what Joy expected. Keane Kavanagh wants Joy for his mistress, and he won't take no for an answer. Suddenly Joy finds herself on beautiful Cooper Island living every woman's dream. All the clothes she could want, no bills to worry about and a sexy man who knows how to please a woman in bed. But Joy wants more. She wants love, and she'll do whatever it takes to remain the woman she was raised to be.<br /><br /><strong>Excerpt</strong><br /><br />Joy strolled through the department store, with the application in her hand, filled out but not turned in. She had worked in a coffee shop and had become addicted to an iced caramel macchiato. How was she going to get her daily fix now?<br /><br />Kavanagh’s was out of her price range—not over the top in prices, but not what she could regularly swing either. She loved the smell, the atmosphere, the marble floors. The dresses even fit over her hips, and were made bigger so she could pretend she wasn’t a size fourteen. “This store was made for me,” she whispered as she flicked through the assortment of thong panties on display.<br /><br />“May I help you, ma’am?” a saleswoman asked behind her.<br /><br />She didn’t bother to turn around, before moving on. “No, thanks.”<br /><br />At that moment, while she teased her fingertips with silks from who knows what country, she had a thought. What was the point of handing over another application to be turned down for lack of experience or because she was inflexible with her hours. She couldn’t be on call, night and day, with no reliable babysitter and no family that could watch Travon—another lesson learned. She had been through too many horrible sitters, even one who had left her son as an infant in the basement while she was upstairs watching her soap operas. Had she not come when she did, he would have choked on his own vomit. Tears filled her eyes remembering.<br /><br />He was older now, and she didn’t have to be as afraid, but that didn’t stop the emotion from rising, threatening to consume her from time to time. She needed a better plan than that, maybe one that would help her to make enough money to take some time off and attend school.<br /><br />When she ran her hand over the dresses for the second time, she stopped. Kavanagh’s had security guards and cameras, but she knew for a fact that the guys sometimes got to watching women more than they watched what was happening. And when she got a whiff of the too flowery perfume that had just sailed by on the guards’ favorite ass to ogle, temptation got the better of Joy.<br /><br />She moved to the bras. Every one was over ten bucks, but they had the kind that were stylish without that awful underwire that bit into one of her sides. She fingered the lace while watching the beauty. Just as she expected, the camera in this section rotated. The security officer in the back room was probably already jacking off.<br /><br />“This is wrong,” she told herself. “I shouldn’t even think about it. I’m not like Darren. I don’t want this life for Travon.” But her fingers still slid the nearest bra into her purse. She didn’t even know if it was her size.<br /><br />Her stomach fluttering, she followed the woman to the jewelry section. Bells and alarms in her own head told her to leave right now, but she resisted. She checked the camera, and just like before, it turned to follow the woman. A flip of her blonde hair, pouting pink lips, and the guard in this area zipped to her side to chat her up.<br /><br />Joy swallowed hard. This area was trickier. There were two cameras and the guard. Besides that, the best stuff was locked behind a counter. Kavanagh’s had become famous for their exquisite jewelry at affordable prices, even the real stuff. Joy nearly chewed her lip off taking in the gold and silver. With any one of them, she could buy groceries and pay the phone bill. She could even get Travon some new clothes that weren’t hand-me-downs.<br /><br />Walk away, Joy.<br /><br />The sales girl took out two trays of jewelry and sat them on the counter. Pouty Blonde began fussing about their quality while the woman rolled her eyes and turned to help another person. Joy slipped on sunglasses and moved to look in the mirror closer to the counter. The guard was practically drooling.<br /><br />“How does this look on me?” the blonde woman asked the guard.<br /><br />“Perfect.”<br /><br />Joy tried not to gag. She put the glasses back and moved as casually as she could manage to the watches. These would sell okay, she knew. They weren’t too expensive, thirty or forty, but it was something. She considered settling for two or three, and then the guard was called away. The phone rang, and the salesgirl answered with her back to the trays. Joy couldn’t believe her luck.<br /><br />She hurried over, and when Miss Thing wasn’t looking, Joy stuffed a few rings and bracelets in her pockets. Only after she was halfway to the front door did she remember the camera.<br /><br />No! Please, no! The camera was always trained on the woman. Snatching what she had right next to the woman insured she had been seen. Her throat dried, and she could already see the prison doors slamming shut and Child Protective Services taking her son.<br /><br />Her vision blurred. She leaned against a counter and rubbed her forehead. Maybe if she threw her purse away... No, it had her ID in it and her fingerprints. All the police had to do was run them. Years ago, she had worked as a janitor in a secure building. All employees had to give their fingerprints and take drug tests. Her information was sure to be on file somewhere, just waiting for her to screw up.<br /><br />While she stood there wondering what to do, someone walked up behind her. A hand rested familiarly on her waist, and a deep voice whispered in her ear. “You want to come with me?”<br /><br />She wanted to say no and run, but her legs wouldn’t work. He propelled her forward. She shuffled along too shocked to resist, her brain befuddled. Instead of the security office like she expected to await the police, he led her down a hall and up a short flight of stairs. Back here, the store was even nicer. They spared no expense in the wall hangings, the plush carpet and the richly appointed office. Oh no! The man was taking her to the big boss!<br /><br />Still behind her, he moved his hands to her shoulders and pushed her into a seat. She sat ramrod straight, hearing the door click closed behind her. When the man came into view and sat down, she thought she would hurl. The bad twin sat across from her. Or rather, the man from the subway who had the darker looks of the two.<br /><br />He smiled. “Hello.”<br /><br />She couldn’t find her voice.<br /><br />“Not talking?” The man was too handsome for her own good. Upon closer inspection, she found he had violet eyes. She’d never seen such a color in a man’s eyes. He had long black lashes so thick women must cry with jealousy over them.<br /><br />But instead of the kindness she had seen in his brother, there was only coldness in this one. He reared back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the desk, with the other hand across his mouth. He appeared to be considering his next words, but something told her he had already worked out what he would say, and what he would do to her. She held onto consciousness with supreme effort.<br /><br />“I—”<br /><br />He held up a hand. “No, no, let me. You didn’t mean to do it. A demon just took hold of you. A friend coerced you, perhaps the loser from the subway who tried to get you to dance for him.”<br /><br />She gasped. “You don’t know me.”<br /><br />“No?”<br /><br />“N-No.” She hated the stutter. It signaled to him that his scare tactic would work. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the man looked bigger, his shoulders wider than they had seemed on the train. The only mercy was that he was sitting down.<br /><br />She had thought too soon. He stood and moved around his desk to perch on the edge. Now, he towered over her. His taut thigh muscle crowded her, the bulge at his crotch even more so.<br /><br />“A-Are you going to call the police?” Better to get right to it.<br /><br />“You have a son. Travon, isn’t it?”<br /><br />She choked back a scream.<br /><br />He went on. “He’s three. No other family, deadbeat dad whose way of paying child support is getting you into things you don’t want to get into. You’ve had a string of jobs, none lasting long, because you’re in the tragic situation of having no higher education, no skills and the only positions you land want you to work hours that eventually clash with your ability to get a babysitter. Am I close?”<br /><br />“Um...” What the hell was she to say? He could not have guessed all of that or found it out in the moments after she grabbed the jewelry, could he?<br /><br />He leaned over and tipped up her chin when she would have stared down at her clenched hands for the duration of the meeting. “Final nail in your coffin...If you go to jail, there will be no one to care for your young son. You thought two weeks of not having him last year was hard. This would be far worse.”<br /><br />She sobbed, great hulking ones that had her bent in half and clutching her stomach. He pulled her to her feet and crushed her to his chest. His lips descended along her neck, and his hands were too possessive at her waist.<br /><br />“You have to ask yourself what Darren asked you in the subway car just this morning, Joy. What are you willing to do for Travon?”Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-34601773602710177902008-12-13T15:38:00.001-08:002008-12-13T15:44:04.950-08:002009 and other stuffSo we're talking about doing some booksignings next year. I think in the summer. Am I wrong to hope something happens so I can't do it? Like getting transported to an alternate earth where they don't do any public appearances...ever! Hahaha. Yes, I'm terrified. Maybe Dahlia will be so wrapped up in her sweet bundle of joy, she'll forget about little old me and won't drag me out there.<br /><br />Road travel. I hate it. My brother just bought a new trailer. He drove it from house to house of family and friends showing it off. I asked him what was up with not bringing it by my street, but he said he didn't want to take out several houses trying to get down my block, so what could he do? I thought about saying excuses, excuses. So I went to see that thing. Nice! But I won't be adding it to any of my stories that's for sure.<br /><br />He showed me this fold out chair that could turn into a bed, said this is where you will sleep when you come with us on vacation. I looked at him like he's lost his damn mind. No, Jordyn doesn't like road travel. He knows this!<br /><br />Soon I'll get some other excerpts up on here. And who knows, I might actually think of something interesting to write about. If the above bored you to tears though, don't hold your breath. Lol.Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-3709169646189232312008-12-11T16:40:00.001-08:002008-12-11T16:41:43.727-08:00Taking Joy Cover<div>I'm soooooooooooooooooooo happy with my cover for Taking Joy. I hope you like it too.<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278697239890315442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzhJ7cVto2JyMuNc0DuSKBAgm2hDHDrRjJEWVlPrHM2YelJLbc8-t7Dg4bnx0mdV6ym11zeNn2e3tW4gDagsYQmVkaIBxnHq6IuHy-i78gUCeuBc9KY_jc3ryHztieIKQkvjjbth8BxN7/s320/takingjoysmall.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-31139412709273564952008-12-11T09:51:00.000-08:002008-12-11T09:54:03.879-08:00Boy oh boy. Kids!So yesterday, my brother calls to chit chat. He hardly ever calls, and neither do I. We just don't have a lot to talk about. I think he waits until he has some story or something to share. I was right. He did.<br /><br />His youngest child is finally old enough to "cook" in his opinion. At Thanksgiving this year someone, made this really soupy banana pudding (ew!) that my brother's daughter liked. So she wanted to make some, and my brother thought it was a good idea. Of course he buys pudding you have to cook rather than instant. So he goes back to the store to get instant and they make it together, etc.<br /><br />Well a few days later, the taste for pudding hits again, and my niece decides she'll cook the pudding my brother bought the first time. The instructions called for cooking it all in a sauce pan. So when my brother comes walking in the kitchen, he finds his daughter earnestly making pudding in a frying pan. She said that's what she figured sauce pan meant. Lol. He said no matter how he scrubs that pan, every time he heats it up, he gets a whiff of pudding in the air.<br /><br />Oh the joys of kids. At least I'll have an interesting story to put in a book some day. Gotta love real life.Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-4918112509782696332008-12-10T03:32:00.001-08:002008-12-11T16:42:04.361-08:00Taking JoyI had posted to my publishing site asking my readers what they thought of my latest work and got really positive responses. Those who responded, thank you so much. You are much appreciated! So here's a little snippet of the story.<br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>Chapter One</strong></div><strong><div align="left"><br /></strong></div>“What about dancing?” he suggested.<br /><br />“Dancing?” She cut her eyes over at him, her lip curling. “You’re not talking about the kind of dancing where I take my clothes off while drunk, funky men whistle and call out lewd stuff to me?”<br /><br />He shrugged. “Yeah. So?”<br /><br />“Darren, you done lost your damn mind.” She rolled her eyes at him and scanned her card so she could pass through the turnstile. He trotted behind on her heels. “I’m not taking my clothes off like that for nobody.”<br /><br />“Come on, Joy. Think of our son.”<br /><br />“Our son?” She wanted to punch him in his face or shove him in front of the train just pulling into the station. But where would that get her? In jail, and her baby boy in foster care. Not happening. The doors slid open, patrons exited and she slipped on board before the driver shut the doors.<br /><br />The car, as usual, was packed with bodies, and one or two had skipped their morning shower. The ripe smell of underarms and sweat permeated the air. Joy squirmed through the crowd to find an unclaimed pole to hang onto just as the train pulled off. Darren’s arm moved above her head to grab the pole, and his body pressed hers from behind. She jammed an elbow in his gut.<br /><br />“Damn, Joy.” He shifted to her side, rubbing his stomach. “You didn’t used to be this mean. Back when—”<br /><br />“Don’t start, Darren, please.” She blew out a breath, turning her head away. “Back when I was too stupid and too in love with you to see what a joke you are, is what you should be about to say. You spout off ‘our son,’ but you don’t pay a bit of child support. And you have the nerve to stand there and suggest I get a job dancing. I can’t believe you.”<br /><br />He blanched at the accusing stares of the older women sitting in front of them. “Come on, Joy. Keep your voice down. Everybody don’t need to be in our business.”<br /><br />Joy fell silent studying her baby’s daddy. Looking at Darren with his braids and his jeans hanging off his hips, his shirt hanging open to show his T-shirt, one would never think he was thirty-five. He looked no different than the teenagers she saw hanging on the streets or playing their loud music on the subway.<br /><br />Darren hadn’t held down a job since she first met him. He preferred the easy way to make his money, stealing and hustling. She couldn’t exactly look down on him for that. Back in their days of dating, she had done her share right along with him. He had introduced her to that world, but when Travon came along, that risky lifestyle was out the door. She just couldn’t figure out why Darren hadn’t seen the light yet, why his heart didn’t break every time their baby had a need they couldn’t provide for.<br /><br />“Okay, Darren, I admit, you’ve pulled me through some rough times over the years, you and your crazy schemes. But I can’t live like that. Travon deserves better. I do too.”<br /><br />“So what you saying?”<br /><br />She dropped her head, closed her eyes and rubbed them. When she turned to glance in the opposite direction to keep from laying hands on Darren, two men caught her attention, who looked so alike they could be twins. She stood in the middle of the car, and they were at one end. Yet, both of them were staring right at her through a gap in the bodies.<br /><br />They were both smoking hot, black wavy hair like a raven’s wing, one with longer hair extending down to his shoulders and the other’s short-cropped. Both had dark-colored eyes she couldn’t see clearly from that distance. They dressed like they had money, expensive suits that didn’t even attempt to hide all the tight muscle. She had found white guys hot before in passing, but that was it. These two men made her mouth water, especially the one with the sweet expression and kindness in his eyes. What they were doing slumming on the subway, she couldn’t imagine. Or why they found it necessary to stare at her.<br /><br />She glanced down at her clothes, second hand from the thrift three blocks from her house. Her figure wasn’t all that either. She was a little too wide in the hips, and her hair was a battle for people with more skill and money to tame it. So what did they see?<br /><br />“What you looking at, Joy?” Darren interrupted her reverie.<br /><br />“Nothing.” She turned away from the men.<br /><br />Darrren reached out and caught her chin. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t do anything for Travon? That you wouldn’t pick up a job that wasn’t exactly respectable to provide for him?”<br /><br />At that moment, she had this weird feeling, like her answer was of interest to someone other than Darren. She glanced up to find the twins passing by. Her knees went weak. They towered above her, easily six foot five, give or take an inch. She chewed her lip and nearly squawked when one of them grabbed her ass.<br /><br />“Hey!” she shouted. Neither man stopped. They kept walking. The train stopped, and they were gone. She dismissed them, and swung around to face Darren. “Yes, I’ve already proven that I would pick up a job I hate to take care of my son. Speaking of jobs, I lost mine yesterday. Do you have a few dollars so I can make the payment on my phone? Need that to get calls from potential employers.”<br /><br />He scrounged around in his pockets and pulled out a twenty. “Sorry, this is all I’ve got. Everything I’ve worked on for a while has fallen through.” They stepped together off the train and headed up to the street. Downtown was wall to wall. The only plus Joy could see was that the air was fresher. Somewhat. Now she had to contend with exhaust fumes, but a breeze blew and birds flitted in the trees across the street at the park. Darren stroked her arm to get her attention. “Look, how about you come do a job for me tonight. It’s small, but you’ll make a hundred.”<br /><br />“A hundred?” She stopped walking. That would pay the phone bill and put a few dollars in her pocket. Maybe she could save a few before child care benefits ended. Things weren’t desperate yet, but they would be if she didn’t get another job, and she knew from experience how bad it could get. She willed away the memories from last summer when social services threatened to take her son. Never again! But the jobs Darren ran weren’t the right way either. “Let me think about it?”<br /><br />He shrugged. “Whatever, Joy. I’m offering you a way out, to make some money. If you don’t do it, I can get someone else.”<br /><br />That pissed her off. “Why the hell can’t you do it and give me the money? He’s your son too!”<br /><br />Darren backed away, holding his hands out from his sides. “You got my cell number, Joy. Hit me by five. No later.” The crowd swallowed him up.<br /><br />* * * *<br /><br />Joy strolled through the department store, with the application in her hand, filled out but not turned in. She had worked in a coffee shop and had become addicted to an iced caramel macchiato. How was she going to get her daily fix now?<br /><br />Kavanagh’s was out of her price range—not over the top in prices, but not what she could regularly swing either. She loved the smell, the atmosphere, the marble floors. The dresses even fit over her hips, and were made bigger so she could pretend she wasn’t a size fourteen. “This store was made for me,” she whispered as she flicked through the assortment of thong panties on display.<br /><br />“May I help you, ma’am?” a saleswoman asked behind her.<br /><br />She didn’t bother to turn around, before moving on. “No, thanks.”<br /><br />At that moment, while she teased her fingertips with silks from who knows what country, she had a thought. What was the point of handing over another application to be turned down for lack of experience or because she was inflexible with her hours. She couldn’t be on call, night and day, with no reliable babysitter and no family that could watch Travon—another lesson learned. She had been through too many horrible sitters, even one who had left her son as an infant in the basement while she was upstairs watching her soap operas. Had she not come when she did, he would have choked on his own vomit. Tears filled her eyes remembering.<br /><br />He was older now, and she didn’t have to be as afraid, but that didn’t stop the emotion from choking her from time to time. She needed a better plan than that, maybe one that would help her to make enough money to take some time off and attend school.<br /><br />When she ran her hand over the dresses for the second time, she stopped. Kavanagh’s had security guards and cameras, but she knew for a fact that the guys sometimes got to watching women more than they watched what was happening. And when she got a whiff of the too flowery perfume that had just sailed by on their favorite ass to ogle, temptation got the better of Joy.<br /><br />She moved to the bras. Every one was over ten bucks, but they had the kind that were stylish without that awful underwire that bit into one of her sides. She fingered the lace while watching the beauty. Just as she expected, the camera in this section rotated. The security officer in the back room was probably already jacking off.<br /><br />“This is wrong,” she told herself. “I shouldn’t even think about it. I’m not like Darren. I don’t want this life for Travon.” But her fingers still slid the nearest bra into her purse. She didn’t even know if it was her size.<br /><br />Her stomach fluttering, she followed the woman to the jewelry section. Bells and alarms in her own head told her to leave right now, but she resisted. She checked the camera, and just like before, it turned to follow the woman. A flip of her blond hair, pouting pink lips, and the guard in this area zipped to her side to chat her up.<br /><br />Joy swallowed hard. This area was trickier. There were two cameras and the guard. Besides that, the best stuff was locked behind a counter. Kavanagh’s had become famous for their exquisite jewelry at affordable prices, even the real stuff. Joy nearly chewed her lip off taking in the gold and silver. With any one of them, she could buy groceries and pay the phone bill. She could even get Travon some new clothes that weren’t hand me downs.<br /><br />Walk away, Joy.<br /><br />The sales girl took out two trays of jewelry and sat them on the counter. Pouty Blonde began fussing about their quality while the woman rolled her eyes and turned to help another person. Joy slipped on sunglasses and moved to look in the mirror closer to the counter. The guard was practically drooling.<br /><br />“How does this look on me?” the blonde woman asked the guard.<br /><br />“Perfect.”<br /><br />Joy tried not to gag. She put the glasses back and moved as casually as she could manage to the watches. These would sell okay, she knew. They weren’t too expensive, thirty or forty, but it was something. She considered settling for two or three, and then the guard was called away. The phone rang, and the salesgirl answered with her back to the trays. Joy couldn’t believe her luck.<br /><br />She hurried over, and when Miss Thing wasn’t looking, Joy stuffed a few rings and bracelets in her pockets. Only after she was halfway to the front door did she remember the camera.<br /><br />No! Please, no! The camera was always trained on the woman. Snatching what she had right next to the woman insured she had been seen. Her throat dried, and she could already see the prison doors slamming shut and Child Protective Services taking her son.<br /><br />Her vision blurred. She leaned against a counter and rubbed her forehead. Maybe if she threw her purse away... No, it had her ID in it and her fingerprints. All the police had to do was run them. Years ago, she had worked as a janitor in a secure building. All employees had had to give their fingerprints and take drug tests. Her information was sure to be on file somewhere, just waiting for her to screw up.<br /><br />While she stood there wondering what to do, someone walked up behind her. A hand rested familiarly on her waist, and a deep voice whispered in her ear. “You want to come with me?”<br /><br />She wanted to say no and run, but her legs wouldn’t work. He propelled her forward. She shuffled along too shocked to resist, her brain befuddled. Instead of the security office like she expected to await the police, he led her down a hall and up a short flight of stairs. Back here, the store was even nicer. They spared no expense in the wall hangings, the plush carpet and the richly appointed office. Oh no! The man was taking her to the big boss!<br /><br />Still behind her, he moved his hands to her shoulders and pushed her into a seat. She sat ramrod straight, hearing the door click closed behind her. When the man came into view and sat down, she thought she would hurl. The bad twin sat across from her. Or rather, the man from the subway who had the longer hair of the two.<br /><br />He smiled. “Hello.”<br /><br />She couldn’t find her voice.<br /><br />“Not talking?” The man was too handsome for her own good. Upon closer inspection, she found he had violet eyes. She’d never seen such a color in a man’s eyes. He had long black lashes so thick women must cry with jealousy over them.<br /><br />But instead of the kindness she had seen in his brother, there was only coldness in this one. He reared back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the desk, with the other hand across his mouth. He appeared to be considering his next words, but something told her he had already worked out what he would say, and what he would do to her. She held onto consciousness with supreme effort.<br /><br />“I—”<br /><br />He held up a hand. “No, no, let me. You didn’t mean to do it. A demon just took hold of you. A friend coerced you, perhaps the loser from the subway who tried to get you to dance for him.”<br /><br />She gasped. “You don’t know me.”<br /><br />“No?”<br /><br />“N-No.” She hated the stutter. It signaled to him that his scare tactic would work. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the man looked bigger, his shoulders wider than they had seemed on the train. The only mercy was that he was sitting down.<br /><br />She had thought too soon. He stood and moved around his desk to perch on the edge. Now, he towered over her. His taut thigh muscle crowded her, the bulge at his crotch even more so.<br /><br />“A-Are you going to call the police?” Better to get right to it.<br /><br />“You have a son. Travon, isn’t it?”<br /><br />She choked back a scream.<br /><br />He went on. “He’s three. No other family, deadbeat dad whose way of paying child support is getting you into things you don’t want to get into. You’ve had a string of jobs, none lasting long, because you’re in the tragic situation of having no higher education, no skills and the only positions you land want you to work hours that eventually clash with your ability to get a babysitter. Am I close?”<br /><br />“Um...” What the hell was she to say? He could not have guessed all of that or found it out in the moments after she grabbed the jewelry, could he?<br /><br />He leaned over and tipped up her chin when she would have stared down at her clenched hands for the duration of the meeting. “Final nail in your coffin...If you go to jail, there will be no one to care for your young son. You thought two weeks of not having him last year was hard. This would be far worse.”<br /><br />She sobbed, great hulking ones that had her bent in half and clutching her stomach. He pulled her to her feet and crushed her to his chest. His lips descended along her neck, and his hands were too possessive at her waist.<br /><br />“You have to ask yourself what Darren asked you in the subway car just this morning, Joy. What are you willing to do for Travon?”Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4164300448248678467.post-73334356893728907552008-12-10T03:30:00.000-08:002008-12-10T03:31:59.021-08:00On WritingLast night I was reviewing my first works, the Urban Ladies series. It was supposed to be six in that series, two short stories each of three ladies. I haven't done the last one because a new mood struck me at the time, and all I wanted to do was get Loving Jiro written and released.<br /><br />But as I re-read about Chelle, it struck me how raw she is, how she doesn't care what you say or do, she's who she is and will say whatever comes into her mind. She's like a perfect candidate for the Alpha werewolf. I loved re-reading her story. I was actually reading the second of her stories, Chelle Hunting. Lol. I was thinking of Good Will Hunting when I came up with that title. No connection or resemblance, so I don't know why.<br /><br />The opening scene takes place in Wicky-Mart where she works. Yes, I was thinking of Wal-Mart when I wrote that, but on a smaller scale and cheesier. Haha. I would love to do longer works with this kind of heroine, except that I'm not this kind of person in real life, so it's a tough job keeping that attitude throughout, which is why I made it a short story in the first place and wrote in installments.<br /><br />But don't fret if you like that kind of thing. I will finish that last installment if it kills me.Jordyn Traceyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02069333710295788958noreply@blogger.com0