Monday, December 31, 2012

Ring in the New Year...

Hello Lovelies,

Another year is upon us and I look forward to 2013 with anticipation and excitement. I'm not a big resolution person because during the year I'm usually very goal oriented. I have my big vision plans and the little hopes and wishes I try my best to do. Therefore, a New Year doesn't require grandiose promises but a continual commitment of what I plan to do for myself. One of my major goals that I try desperately to accomplish is writing longer stories. I want 2013 to be the year I actually push myself to cross over the 60,000 word mark and pen a tale of awesome epicness. 

As always I appreciate you all, dear readers, and wish you health, happiness, and hope that you receive all the joy and peace one human body can sustain. Be safe and a little crazy, because that's what I plan to do. 

*Raises glass in a toast*

Here's to us!!

Happy New Year,


Friday, December 21, 2012

BTP Scavenger Hunt!!!

Well Hello!

If you're here I'm assuming that the BTP Scavenger Hunt brought you to me. If it didn't, well you're in for a treat. First I want to point out that this was my idea because I'm prone to bouts of genius on occasion. This one is particularly exciting for me because as an author I'm always trying to find fun ways to engage readers. Writing, though something I enjoy, isn't my day job and I find it difficult to go out there and meet my fans. See them face to face, shake hands, and exchange pleasantries. I'm not very good about creating swag and doling out prizes.  But this scavenger hunt, now this is something that I can do and best of all, I've gotten my fellow BTP authors to come along for the ride. 

Okay now that I've gushed a bit about why my idea is so cool I'm sure you're wondering what the hell you have to do. Simple, answer the riddle I've provided for you and follow the instructions below. Since I'm super tricky I've given the answer to the riddle in this blog. Now it's just up to you to figure it out...muaaaaahhhhhh

What is it a man can do standing, a woman sitting down, and a dog on three legs?

You've come so far and yet have more to go. Click on the BTP author's names to collect more riddle answers. Once you have all 11 answers collected email Three lucky winners will be chosen at random to receive a $10 BTP gift certificate. Contest closes at 12 am 12.22.12.

Sunday, December 9, 2012

The dearly departed...

Hello Lovelies,

I've been quite the busy bee with the job that pays the bills, traveling across the country, sitting in airports and on planes. Traveling is both a blessing and curse because I do enjoy the people watching and the few hours of solitude that being in a plane or crowded airport afford but inevitably I catch a bug and have to spend a few days recouping. I was fortunate this time because I brought a good book along that I was able to start while traveling and finish up while being sick. The title is Handling the Undead and the author is John Advide Lindqvist and the book has left me feeling pleasantly melancholy.

I was pretty sure I'd feel this way because his other book, Let the Right One In, left me with a similar feeling but this one seemed to sink closer to home. The premise of exploring the livings connection to the dead resonated strongly with me because it seems I have begun to pick away at the threads of my past, in hopes a clear link to my present and future could be seen. I've become quite obsessed with searching out pictures of family that I've known and loved but aren't tangible to me in the same way that a photograph is, and putting them on display in my house as a reminder of their existence.

Summarizes the book seems far to complex for me because I've housed myself so deeply into the narrative of the story that it's hard to disconnect the two. Of course it's not the surface story of the dead rising but the deeper meaning of what does it mean for the living if our dead came back to us that I feel strongly connected to.  It seems a funny coincidence (or not considering the psychic connection I share with my mother) that when I was in a particularly emotionally part of the story my mother called to read a card she'd received from my grandmother several decades ago. It was a simple card, full of the tender endearments my grandmother was great at imparting, and as my mother choked up I could see how all three of us were connected and even though dead my grandmother still lived. She was in my mother and me and as my mother softly sobbed telling me how much she missed her mother, I realized that one day I too would cry with a broken heart for the loss of my own.

I think I'm going to sit in this happily sad place I have discovered for a bit longer and reflect on the beautiful simplicity of this story that has caused a well of emotion to churn inside of me. I may even look at pictures of my grandmother and read little notes I've tucked away from my mother. Text my sister, kiss Sig Other, and find a Christmas gift from my father. Revel in all the great little pleasures that come with being alive. Because now that I've had a chance to mourn the dead I really should focus on the living.


Monday, December 3, 2012

The Next Big Thing: Me!!!


The lovely Selah Janel sent out the call for writers to play tag with her in the The Next Big Thing blog hop and I of course answered. So here is my contribution!

What is your working title of your book?

Fire and Ice

Where did the idea come from for the book?

As with most of my books my publisher sent me a cover to seduce me into writing a story for it. 

What genre does your book fall under?

This book is more on the darker paranormal romance side and I'm so excited about it.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

I can't really think of an actor right now....ummmm....have to put my thinking cap on.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

This is going to be a wild wide!

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

This book is going to be published by Beautiful Trouble Publishing.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

Lord!!! It took me over a year and a half to finish this story. Sigh...and now I have to get through edits.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

I've written a trilogy called The Goddess Chosen Trilogy that has strong female characters dealing with supernatural forces outside of their control that is within the same genre.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

When I was given the cover I was racking my brain trying to figure out what the hell I was going to write and I decided to read poetry for inspiration. I came across a poem by Robert Frost called Fire and Ice that got my creative synapses snapping and voila a story was born.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

This book is a roller coster of who done it and mystery. The poem was a major influence because it had me think about love, hate, and the thin line that separated them both. How strong emotions create strong actions and what it would be like for two people caught in that storm. This is a very dark story but I think all love stories have dark moments and I was really excited to explore that.

Who I've tagged!!

These ladies are my road dawgs and I find it only appropriate that you come to enjoy their work as much as I do. They each are wickedly funny with their own unique brand of storytelling that has you sighing with contentment once the story is done and eagerly awaiting for the next. 

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Giving Thanks

Hello Lovelies!

Well the "holiday" season is finally upon us. I'm quietly typing out this post in my phone while my crowed house slumbers away. I find that each year I wait expectantly for Halloween but grumble about the rest. Too many crowds, I can't do the family shuffle, or let's try something new this year. I'm a terrible Grinch but that holiday ball gets rolling and I find I've got what it takes to get through this extravaganza of eating and people. Not only do I have what it takes to get through it but I'm quite thankful I've got my own unique brand of chaos I can submerge myself in.

So I raise my glass to the time of love, laughter, and (if I must be a bit honest) crazy making tendencies and give thanks I was able to do all again this year.


Saturday, November 17, 2012

Rainy Day and Lazy Thoughts


It's actually raining here in Southern California, which means I have no desire to do anything but veg on my couch. The knitting has been brought out and I'm just going to k, k, p, p the day away. There is a good possibility that reading will be interwoven in at some point and possibly tasty adult beverages later tonight as well. In a sense this is going to be a good day and as with all good days there should be a little celebration. Therefore, here is a little something to get the festivities started.



Unedited and Copyrighted by Janet Eckford

Softly Whispering Words of Wonder

"If you can't be still, I'm going to stop."

His words are a soft whisper against my skin that causes me to gasp with anticipation. I can't help but squirm when he touches me like this, fingers light but purposeful, honing in on all of the parts of my body that have become used to his unique brand of pleasure. I am wanton and needy, aching for the fulfillment I only ever seem to achieve with him. He pauses as I moan with frustration and it is all the warning I need to obey his command.

"Very good," he breathes out against the damp column of my neck.

Very good, indeed, I think as he begins to lift my skirt ever so slightly. I can't believe we're doing this but I couldn't imagine stopping. He traces the edges of my damp panties and I resist the urge to shift my body at just the right angle to have us touching skin to oh so sensitive skin. He must sense my longing and instead of torturing me, drawing out the inevitable, he slips his fingers under the delicate lace and softly strokes me.

"Is this for me?"

His husky whisper is equal parts teasing and wonder. He knows that it is always for him but it is his asking that I find so appealing. He never takes for granted what we create and it feeds my desire each time, like food plucked from the garden of the gods. His other hand grips the back of my neck and tilts my head at just the right angle so I can be kissed properly. The room we have found is too dark for me to see his eyes but I don't need light to see the love that is reflected there. I sob softly as he kisses me firmly and slips two of his fingers inside of me, with his thumb applying just the right amount of pressure to my sensitive bud. When he pulled me away from the party I knew this was his intent but now that it has finally happened I can't help feeling as if this is a newly exciting thing we have discovered.

"I love to make you come," he whispers against my lips, with a slight hitch in his voice.

"I love to come for you," I reply with a hiss of pleasure.

It's a truth that we enjoy together and it is a fact that causes my body to tense, pulsing with the need for release, just waiting

"If you can't be stil, I'm going to stop," he whispers playfully.

Friday, November 2, 2012

Love is in the air...

Welcome Lovers!!

October is now over and with it goes my penchant for the ghostly and the ghastly. I'm actually quite romantic when I put my mind to it and if you've seen my backlist you'll notice I put my mind to it quite often. One of those romantic endeavors has manifested itself into an entire series called Intimate Encounters. Six lovely little books to be more specific. I'm sure you can only imagine how excited I was to hear they were being combined into an ebook anthology AND going to print.

I think each of the stories in the collections has a little something for everyone and that is what makes them so special to me. I believe that "love" isn't static or one dimensional. It can't be picked up and put down without care and caution. I believe that it cozies up to "lust" on occasion, sparking an energy of fire and passion, but never loses itself completely to the hedonism of it's partner. I even believe it is far greater than I could have ever captured in the words I put onto paper but it didn't stop me from trying. Therefore, I invite you all to take a gander at what love and intimacy look like to me, and I'd be surprised if you don't agree.


Available at Amazon
Intimate Encounters

Anthology of Janet Eckford's Intimate Encounters series, volumes 1-6:

Book 1: Love Unfurled:

Love in its fullest bloom requires the time and trust of both partners. There is the little seedling waiting for care and attention. The very bud of the flower waiting to blossom, and finally, love at its fullest, fully unfurled--testament to all the time and energy that was put into it to help it grow. Yet, we mustn't forget the sprinkling of passion that gives it color and vibrancy. So here is a look as love unfurls.

Book 2: At that Hour:
Lauren knows that an invitation, once given, is hard to revoke, but passion untried can be even more detrimental. She has requested the attention of her dark fantasy lover, but will the reality be all she imagined or just a promise left unfulfilled?

Book 3: Intimate Apparel:
What makes the things under a woman's clothes sexy? Is it the frilly lace or the cut of the fabric, or maybe the color and the way it lays upon her skin? I think it's the wearer, the woman who puts in on and takes it off every day with purpose and focus. I think it's the viewer who gazes with appreciation and a glint of passion in his eyes. Most importantly, I think it's the readers who place themselves in the role of the wearer and viewer and wonder if reality were fantasy, would they have just as much fun? Here is a collection of stories that explore just how "intimate" Intimate Apparel can be, so go ahead and take a peek. You know you want to.

Book 4: Body of Work:
At the heart of some of the greatest fantasies is the ability to remake one's self; carve out an image through imagination that is difficult to find in reality. What if fantasy and reality weren't so different? What if the image born from imagination isn't the one that needs to be the most desired and you could live in the space you are meant to inhabit? What if you could be loved for the person you have difficulty being? These are three stories that explore the fantasy of being loved for who you are and ask the question, why can't it be real?

Book 5: The Art of Love:

Body art is such an interesting thing. When done with thought and purpose, it tells the untold story of one's innermost self. When done in haste and impulse, it is a regret that lives even while the ink fades. In the end it is a reflection of the intimate connection one has with his or her body. This collection of stories seeks to explore that intimate connection such adornment has, reflected in another person's eyes.

Book 6: Everything Carries Me Back to You:

Happily Ever After isn't always a guaranteed thing. We take our Happily Now because Ever After just seems so far away. This book is a collection of those Nows, a prelude to a love story the characters don't even know has been written for them, a love story that waits patiently for them to understand that Happily Maybe is never happily after all.

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Happy Halloween!!!

Hello My Little Ghouls and Ghoulettes,

Halloween is finally here and I can't express how excited I am. This is very much "my" holiday because I don't have to plan anything but my own enjoyment...oh and all the hordes of children that come to the house desperately seeking the means to a diabetic coma. I love everything about Halloween and this year I was particularly excited to have released 31 short stories to help get everyone in the spirit. Thanks to everyone that has been reading each day and playing along and if you haven't enjoyed a little thrill during October, you really need to get on board the party bus.

Because I'm a firm believer in treats needing to keep a coming, I have a very short story for all you tricksters.  As always be safe and just naughty enough to not end up on probation.

Happy Halloween,


Unedited and Copyrighted by Janet Eckford

Life of the Party

"You do know this is a stupid idea."

"Shut it."

I don't bother looking at the group behind me, in particular Little Ms. Naysayer Gloria. She knew what I had planned and complaining every step of the way was really starting to annoy me. I should have just kept my big mouth shut and come out here on my own, as I'd been doing for the last ten years. Except, this year I was trying to open myself up more and all that crap my therapist kept harping on. But he never did understand me. Waste of money if you asked me but the only thing that kept the hounds at bay.

"So, what is the big deal about this place?"

"You'll see when we get there," I whispered over my shoulder to Steven.

Pushing through the thick brush that wound it's way around the path that was invisible to most, I tuned out the whispering voices behind me. If they didn't shut up they were going to ruin everything. God, why did I have to open my big mouth.

"Are you sure we aren't trespassing?" Claire's nasally voice cared through the dark night.

Whipping around I glared at the group of people I'd picked up over the last several months. The light of my flashlight wasn't bright enough to illuminate all of their faces but I could sense Claire, Steven, Gloria and the blessedly silent Anne staring back at me. Taking in a deep breath I looked up at the star filled sky and begged the universe for patience.

"I didn't ask you to come. You all have free will and if you don't want to be here you can just leave. This is the one time of the year I actually have fun and I don't need you spoiling it for me."

I watched as they all shuffled and shifted in the shadows of the night. I didn't even care that my tone was biting and sharp. This was the one time of the year I didn't have to hear the incessant whining of those stuck between this world and the next. Can you please deliver a message to my daughter? I hid the money in the bottom of the hope chest in the attic. It wasn't a suicide. Blah, blah, blah, blah!! Rubbing my temples I used the counting exercise my therapist suggested and by the time I'd gotten to fifty I was feeling a bit better.

Looking at the group of the nearly but not so dearly departed I'd collected recently, I gave them one final hard stare before I turned back toward the path. I could hear the sounds of chatter in the distance of the dilapidated cemetery. It sounded as if the numbers were even larger this year and I felt my heart quicken with anticipation. The wind began to rustle in the trees and a chill breeze ruffled my unruly hair. Tonight they didn't need me because tonight was the night they got to walk the Earth freely. It was the best sort of night because it was the rare occasion that I really enjoyed being the life of the party.

To read more curious and odd stories of the macabre, don't forget to pick up my collection of 31 short stories from Mocha Memoirs Press


It's hard for me to pick a time in my life when I haven't enjoyed the thrill of a good scare. The heady anticipation of the adrenaline rush, the heart beating faster, and the prickly feel of tiny hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. This "scare" is of course always controlled and contained. I don't seek out fear just for the thrill of it but when I read a particularly scary story or watch an especially frightening movie, I am in love with how that narrative is causing my senses to go in overdrive. Fear can also have another face, one of longing, regret and precious moments lost but frozen in time. That type of fear is often the scariest for me to experience because the fantasy of what may hurt me is all too real. But of course I enjoy it just the same. This collection of shorts is inspired by the many facets of "fear" and housed within the context of one of my favorite holidays, Halloween.

Each day you have the opportunity to read a story that will hopefully have you checking under the bed each night, sleeping with at least one light on or shivering with relief that it isn't your story being told. My greatest wish for you is that by the 31st day of October, you too will revel in all things that go bump in the night and with anticipation waiting for next year's delights.

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore...

Available at Mocha Memoirs Press
Hello My Lovelies,

Sit down and let me spin you a tale (cue sound effects). As much as it pains me to see long summer days slip away (even though the heat seems here to stay) and the "holidays" looming off into a great distance bringing stress and time management extravaganza, there is a bright beacon of hope against the inevitable gloom of endless dark nights...HALLOWEEN!!! Sigh, I can't being to express how much I enjoy October just because of the holiest of all holy holidays falls in that month. This year sig other and I are going to bring back 31 days of horror movies and as always transform the yard into a graveyard (with a couple of new tombs created) AND best of all I finished a goal I set out for myself. 31 short stories that span the spectrum of what is scary. I'm super excited by this project because...well because I am. So snuggle down in the covers and pull your e-reader closer and enjoy the tingle of the tales I've spun for just might want to keep the lights on while you do it...muaaahhhhhhh (cue sound effects).....


Monday, September 17, 2012

I'm still here!!

Hello Lovelies,

I know, I know, I've been away for quite awhile but never fear I was still busy. I have another Intimate Encounters book, from my publisher Beautiful Trouble Publishing, going through the editing process that I'm pretty excited about. It's a collection of shorts that explores what happens when "Happily Ever After" isn't always a given. I was really hesitant to put these little odds and ends together because they are a few of the more emotionally raw stories I've written I think to date. But after a bit I decided, "what the hell", every lover deserves to have their story told even when it is a sad story. Therefore, keep your eyes peeled looking for Everything Carries Me to You.

In other news I actually penned a collection of short stories for October and HALLOWEEN!!! I'm so excited about this because if you've been following this blog for any amount of time you will know how much I love all of the things that go bump, crash and boo in the night. Into the Realm of Mystery and Night is off to Mocha Memoirs Press and is gearing up to be ready by October 1st. Yay!!!

Anyhoo, that's all for now but never fear there will be more...smirk.


Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Guess where I'm at tomorrow...

Coffee Time Romance!! You'll notice I now have a lovely little widget/button link thingy (which took me forever to put on here, Oy Vey) which means I have arrived;) I will be guest blogging all day so Check.Me.Out!

Happy Reading,


Monday, July 30, 2012

Time Well Spent...

Greetings Friends and Fans,

The last several weeks have been a whirlwind of creativity for me. It often happens that way though, I can't seem to put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard) to save my life and BOOM those lovely little voices of characters I haven't known begin clattering away in my head. I've been productive, bursting at the seems with excitement for all the tasty little morsels I've created to be published. Yet, there is always room for reflection and the revamping of an old cover seems to be the catalysis for such reflection. I'm not a consistent blogger or very avid but I take pride in the collection of thoughts I've put together here. My first blog was published on 8.9.10 and it was about my very first published story, Shifting Desires. They often joke you never forget about your first, and I haven't, but as I look back on all that I have done since than I can't help but marvel at how each time it's gotten better.

I've grown more confident, willing to try something new, pushing myself to have fun and enjoy each experience. It is very apropos that with this evolution that first, the little spark of wonder that I dared to put to paper and share with someone other than myself should have a chance to evolve as well. The story is still the same but this little book has gotten a very lovely new cover. This is not just a marketing tool (even though it would be nice to attract new readers) but a gift my publishers have given to me.Therefore, I pass it on to all of you wonderful people to enjoy just as much as I have.

Happy Reading,


Sunday, July 29, 2012

I'm Guest Blogging!!!

I've been invited to play in someone else's sandbox. Go take a gander and marvel at the randomness that is moi.


Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Under Construction

Hello Lovelies,

After reading a very interesting blog about copyright infringement of photos posted on blogs and other social media sites, I will be removing all photos that I do not have permission from the photographer to post. I will most likely replace these images at some point but wanted to give you all a heads up as to why my blog is going to look a bit wonky for some time. If you follow me on Pinterest you will also notice I have removed all of my photos as well. I love the creative outlet of the site but will now begin to use photos that I know are not infringing on any copyright laws. As a writer I feel that I have to stand in solidarity with other's that make a living off of their craft. Don't worry, though my site might not be as pretty for some time it will still have all of the zany stuff that is moi.

Happy Reading,


Friday, July 13, 2012

Happy Friday the 13th!!!

Hello my favorites,

It is a special day and my pseudo birthday (I was born on a Friday the 13th) and I felt as if I should come bearing gifts. I'm currently awash with creativity and shall have lovely little stories to release into the world very soon. I'm trying to keep this influx of coherent ramblings going so I can finish my most epic of writing projects, a collection of 31 stories for the 31 days of October in celebration of my most holiest of high holy days, Halloween.

I've been playing with ideas and wondering just how scary I should be and quite a few have found themselves on the cutting room floor. But as today is such a special day I thought one idea that didn't move me beyond these short little sentences should get a chance at life. Therefore my lovelies I wish you a most splendid Friday the 13th and give you a little something to make it that much brighter.


Do you have to go?
Unedited and copyrighted by Janet Eckford

"Do you have to go?"

"You know I do."

"Why does it always come so soon?"

He gathered her in his arms and placed a gentle kiss upon her head. It was too soon but time was never on their side. Instead they took what they could when they can.

"When will you be back," she whispers softly with her head pressed against his heart.

"Not until the time is just right," he replies in a dejected tone.

"You could stay if you wanted."

He'd become accustomed to this argument that had no real end. She knew that he couldn't stay and their special kind of forever was never guaranteed. Releasing her from his tight hold he watched as her mournful expression transformed into one of resignation. He didn't have to tell her what she already knew.

"You have to go," she sighed and gently cupped his chin with her icy fingers.

"And so do you," he replied.

There was no grief as her touch became the faintest of caresses. His heart had long ago learned to wall itself away from sadness as she slowly faded away. He didn't shed a tear as he stared at her silent grave in the cold night because he'd learned long ago it was wasted for those that love the dead.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Say it like you mean it.

Good Day Lovelies,

It is Sunday Funday and I just want to stay curled in bed and sleep with the cats. But alas, errands must be run and things Sig Other has deemed important gotten to. I even have a few items on my list to check off, mainly writing a story for the sweetest cover my publisher Beautiful Trouble Publishing has given me. I have a title, which is often the hardest part, but unfortunately no plot, characters, or direction.

I have been scribbling little bits of stories all over the place but I can't make any of those fit. So while lying in bed, faking sleep in order to ward off Sig Other and his "rise and shine" demeanor, I started thinking about this sweet little couple and what their story should be and I was struck with the thought, "what is it like when it isn't so sweet" and "how do they get the sweetness back".

Well I rolled over and jotted down the briefest of a scene in my notes app, the receptacle of unfinished ideas, and decided instead of it living its life in obscurity why not share. Who knows, now that I've put it out into the universe maybe it will grow up to be a real story one day...ummm

Unedited and copyrighted by Janet Eckford

The warmth of his hand slipping between my thighs is my only indication that he is awake. It is slow, almost lazy in it's exploration of my softly smooth skin, and I keep my eyes tightly clasped in order to better experience the sensation. He drifts higher and higher and it seems that with every inch he gains my body becomes increasingly anxious. This caress in the darkest heart of night is unexpected after an intense quarrel that had me falling asleep with hurt feelings and murderous thoughts. My pain from harsh words spoken in anger coaxes my pride to resist, squeeze my legs tightly closed and bar the intruder admission, but I feel the lightest brush of fingertips against the softest part of my body and I submit.

Pride is no match for desire and I do not think I can desire any man more. He knows I am his even with harsh words and hurt feelings.

"When we are done, I promise we'll talk and I'll apologize, but let me say I'm sorry this way first," he whispers in my ear.

And I let him.

Monday, May 7, 2012

Naughty Thoughts and Naughty Deeds

Hello My Little Rascals!

I've been working really hard to finish a few projects but alas my muse hasn't been cooperating. Until the wee small hours of the morning when this picture I've had in my Pinterest account sparked a little flame of something for me. So what could I do but share with you.


Naughty Thoughts and Naughty Deeds
Unedited and Copyrighted by Janet Eckford

I watch as he puts his gloves on. Those lovely hands, strong and well formed, with just a hint of roughness brushed along his palms and the pads of his fingers. Those lovely hands placed inside the softest of leather. I love those hands, particularly when they are upon me. Looking away as the last digit of the last finger is tucked away from my view, I shiver thinking of the feel of them.

"What are you thinking of?" He asks softly in ear.

I haven't noticed him get close, so very close in a room with so much space. I feel the heat of his words travel across the surface of my skin, caressing, teasing, and I blush with pleasure.


The lie is ill formed and sticks as it comes out of my mouth. He will know there is a something. Several something's that involve him and those lovely hands that have now found their way to my arm and hip.

"I think not."

His voice is husky as he leans so much closer to me. Pressed softly against my back. One of those lovely leathered clad hands has found its way from my hip to the small of my back, at the edge of the deep V of my dress, where my skin is exposed. The cool smooth texture of the leather slides gently across me and I still, like one of Pavlov's dogs waiting for a treat.

"Are you thinking naughty thoughts?"

There is humor in the deep timber of his voice that causes my breath to hitch. When he is amused is when he is at his most dangerous. His mind becomes sharp and focused, arrowed to all the subtle nuisances of my body and its responses.

"Naughty thoughts and naught deeds," I whisper back.

I feel a slight tremor in the hand now splayed discreetly across my lower back. I am not without my own arsenal and smile as I look into the thinly dispersed crowd of diners. I wonder if they know what is happening. That as he grows slightly harder behind me, I become slightly softer, warmer and moist.

"Let's go," he says helping me with my coat, "I want to hear more about this in the car."

His words have a hint of urgency and his smile a bit of mischief. I know what will happen when he gets me to that car parked in the darkest part of the lot. Those lovely hands in tight confines of the softest leather will push me ever so gently against the cool metal of the door. One will find its way to my hip as the other lifts up my dress, fingers skimming across sensitive skin until they reach the very edge of my panties. There won't be time for gallant gestures and instead he will push the delicate lace aside, as he spreads me wider.

I am not a passive spectator of course and will have taken my own liberties to free him from his pants. As he lifts me up, just enough to anchor me on the door of the car, the last thing I will feel before he pushes himself inside of me will be the warm texture of his favored gloves pressed against my skin, and I will have to bite my lip to prevent my scream.

Naughty thoughts and naughty deeds indeed.

Saturday, March 31, 2012

What do you mean it's over?

Hello my little chickadees,

Last night I was talking with sig other about my most recent post and he had some very interesting insight, well once we got past the fact the story had nothing to do with us;) He brought up a very valid point when we were discussing the narrators belief that both parties felt the relationship was over. He questioned how did she know he felt the same way if they never talked about dissatisfaction. Maybe she was done but he thought though things were tense it didn't mean they were through. Sig other is a firm believer in the idea that two people are not usually done with a relationship at the same time, there is almost always one of the two holding out hope. Well of course this got my muse all hot and bothered thinking about how to tell the story of the other half of this duo. So here it goes.

Unedited and Copyrighted by Janet Eckford

     I look up from my plate to see her staring at me and I smile. She is lovely tonight as she is always lovey. I place my steak into my mouth and moan my appreciation at the tenderness of the meat. I love this place, always have, and they never seem to disappoint. With my mouth full I point to her soup that she has been swirling absently for some time and not eating. She takes a spoonful and smiles in appreciation. There is something off about her smile and I open my mouth to ask if she enjoys it but decide against it.
     Things have been tense lately and tonight, our special night, I don't want to have one of our arguments. I look back at my plate because I don't want her to see that I'm thinking of that tension that has begun to permeate our life. I feel it like a great bleak fog that clouds my words and actions, making little things I say distorted and complex. I want tonight to be good like it was in the past. A past that had us eating and laughing at this very restaurant, at this very table, until the place closed down around us.
     "I love this place," I smile at her, hoping the memory of that love will infuse a joy in the evening I'm starting to feel lacking.
     "It's the best," she replies with a smile that is lacking the luster she once had.
     I don't know what to say now as that fog grows thicker around us. I can see her but it is only the vague outline of what she used to be, of what we used to mean to each other. I feel a ball of frustration form in my chest because it doesn't seem fair that it has become so hard. She is still so lovely to me but there is something happening that I don't understand.
     "Do you think we should plant roses this year?"
     I want to shout that I don't give a fuck about roses. I want to ask her what's going on and why won't she talk to me. I want to say whatever I need to say to not have us fighting but to clear up this pallor of gloom that has taken us into its cold embrace but instead I breath deeply and say, "That's something to think about."
     It isn't something to think about but I have no other thoughts left. I can't help a small sigh of frustration escaping from my lips as I fork more food into my mouth. Food that has lost it's initial vibrancy and tang.
     "Yes, something to think about," she murmurs as she catches my eye.
     As I look into the face of this person I love, the person I have given and taken from in equal parts, I see something there that shouldn't be. It is as if the fog has cleared for this briefest of moments and I have to look away at what clarity has brought.
     "I love this place," I say, trying desperately to get back to what we once had.
     "It's the best," she replies.
     The sight of her small sad smile is too much for me and I go back to my food and listening to the sounds of this place that used to be so safe and realize I'm okay with the fog for now.

Friday, March 30, 2012

Where does love go when it has died?

Hello my little romantics,

I'm sitting here all by my lonesome at work, trying desperately to finish tasks off my To Do List, and listening to sad songs. I of course am having no success checking off those important boxes on my list and have instead immersed myself in enjoying my sad songs and contemplating love that is lost and POOF a little ditty popped in my head. I think that we should always remember that as great as love is, the loss of it is even more poignent because when we find it again it makes us appreciate that new love that much more. As sharing is caring here's a little treat for everyone.



Unedited and Copyrighted by Janet Eckford

I watch him as he meticulously cuts his meat before he places it in his mouth. He gives a grin of approval as he chews on the savory steak. We love this place, it’s where we had our first date and we make an effort to come here at least once a month. Tonight is different though because it’s our anniversary. A marker in time of what we have given and received from each other. He smiles at me as he points to my plate with his fork. I nod an affirmative and spoon soup into my mouth. I make a face of appreciation at the spicy flavors of the broth and the subtle texture of the vegetables chopped expertly inside. I am pleased like he is pleased by the food placed in front of me because that is something easy to focus on, not the elephant that sits at our table waving a white flag of surrender.
We are silent as we have our meal. The bustle of the popular restaurant providing a symphony of noise and vibrancy we lack in our lives. We are comfortable and we are complacent and that spark of joy and exuberance we experienced in the past as died. It flickered for some time hoping we would feed it the oxygen it needed to blaze once again but we didn’t have the time to tend it, didn’t make the time to care, and now that last spark of hope is snuffed out.
“I love this place,” he smiles at me from across the table.
“It’s the best,” I reply with my own smile.
Such good little actors in a play that should have had its final curtain ages ago but the audience expects one more act, one final call. I look at my plate because if I continue to look at his face I know I will see the truth we both know reflected back at me. Love doesn’t live here anymore, it has died a slow and painful death, and all that is left in the silent halls of our existence is the ghost of what once was, a phantom that haunts us night after night, because we know it is there, a memory of what we used to have.
“Do you think we should plant roses this year?”
I’m desperate now because as the silence deepens I can hear that damn elephant sighing in frustration from being ignored.
“That’s something to think about,” he answers with a sound of introspectrum that is too great for the question.
I think he can hear the elephant as well clearing its throat and begging for our attention, so he focuses on the question I have thrown out there like a life savior in the storm that has now become our existence.
“Yes, something to think about,” I murmur as I catch his eye.
We have our moment, where we recognize what we have become, but I don’t know who looks away first but it is lost and we are back where we started.
“I love this place,” he says with false cheer.
“It’s the best,” I reply with a sad smile.
Our elephant lowers it white flag of surrender but knows that it can’t be ignored forever.

Saturday, March 24, 2012

I've got a story to tell you...

Hello Guys and Gals!

I've been pretty busy lately with all things not writing and today I finally had time to put to paper the ideas that have been floating around in my head. As always I find myself quite fascinated with short stories that are both sensual and mysterious. I'm completely intrigued with this idea of telling a story that has no real beginning, middle, and end, but is instead a snapshot in time. The barest glimpse of a story that could be or never was. I think it might have something to do with my subconscious tapping into a more voyeuristic aspect of my nature. Not being a huge fan of reality T.V. living in a culture that is completely saturated with it may have some influence on my new literary hobby as well. I'm not inundated with the great minutia of living (or the artfully crafted concept of it) that most people are fed as viewing pleasure and quite possibly have tried to fill that void through a new exploration of writing.

My newest story, At That Hour, for which I have been threatened with great bodily harm by a dearest friend if I don't finish it, is the perfect example of this new direction I'm taking. I want to introduce characters in a moment in time, in which there is no history and no future, where they exist solely in that moment to...well to do what ever I tell them to do. There is a fantastical element to this knew direction that I find myself in, which is no surprise because I adore Fantastic Literature*. I like the tingle of suspense, the idea of what would happen if, and mostly I like this all with a little sex.

Therefore, I've got a story to tell you my dears, if you take the time to listen.


*One of my favorite books of shorts is called Black Water: The Book of Fantastic Literature Ed. by Alberto Manguel. Here's one of the stories that has stuck with me the most and influences me today as a writer.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

A Decade of Life Well Spent

Hello Lovers,

I'm utilizing the blogger app on my phone as I lounge in my bed contemplating starting my day. I have stuff to do. Work and errands, the everyday clutter of living that causes the day to pass into another. The dog has a scrape on his paw from his great escape through a window last night that requires attention. We may make a trip to Costco because doesn't that lamp need a light? The same little inconsequential things that make up life. Yet what makes them all tolerable, enjoyable and at times slightly bearable is the person who does them with me. Here's to 10 years of the spectacular, the mundane, and all the madness that entails you being mine and me being yours. Looking forward to many more decades.

Happy Anniversary Sig Other.


Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Whatever will be will be....

I'm sitting in my training trying desperately to pay attention because...well I'm kinda in charge and people will have eight thousand questions for me after the trainer is done but I can't. Instead my brain has wondered off to the land of nod. While there this dream/story I had several weeks ago has set up residence and plays on repeat but I'm resistant to give it voice because it basically kind of scares me. Which is saying something. Instead I've tried to focus on the story I need to write for this great cover I have but alas nothing. So I continue to flap listlessly in the mental winds of my mind until BAM this came to me. In a desperate need to capture it, place it in a capsule, I've come to my blog in hopes that releasing it into the universe of this little community a snippet of this "something" may become SOMETHING.

He looked at the soft slope of her hip resting against the door frame. She was lovely standing there unaware of his eyes soaking in her radiance, her life. He could feel the pulse of he energy, sparkling like the brightest star, drawing him from the depth of darkness he had sunk. The spicy sweet scent of her skin drifted across the room and he could taste her on his tongue and he smiled. The familiar pinprick of his fangs slipping through his gums signaled his heightened desire. Locking his eyes with hers he saw a flicker of fear and need register in her eyes and he flashed her a smile with a hint of fang and thought, "Let the games begin."