She Rides...rides again!

Adult Read - Romantic Suspense
Not suitable for those under the age of 18. *Strong language
She Rides by Adelle Laudan
Available on Amazon in print & ebook

Missy heads out on her vintage motorcycle for what proves to be a ride of a lifetime. Every new road brings with it new friends, new experiences and even a sexy romp with a tattoo artist. It's summers' end when Missy rides into the small town of Waverly for Bike Week, and  sets sight on the most beautiful man she's ever seen on two wheels. Tommy marks the beginning of many hot, steamy nights. Is he Missy's, 'happy ever after', or is there a twist around the next bend in the road, nobody saw coming?

Originally She Rides & Mystified were written under the pseudonym, Elle Laudan. When it came time to renew my contract, I decided to publish both books on my own. Since then, the response has been incredible.
This is definitely the time for authors to take chances as far a self-publishing goes. I have self-published almost all of my titles now, giving me the freedom to set lucrative prices, which is what it takes to compete in the ebook industry. I can honestly say I made the right choice when I look at my sales. At this rate, I'll have sold as many copies in the first two weeks, than I did over the past 2+ years under Elle Laudan.

Here's a short excerpt from She Rides. I hope I entice you to buy my book!
Warning: Strong language
The Twilight Motel, a serious dive with rooms lined up in a horseshoe design and a small diner set in the center. Missy pulled up to the office, and several men at the diner bar turned to check her out through a nicotine-stained window.
Good thing I’m not hungry.
Missy shivered in disgust and kept Lady idling, in case she needed to make a quick getaway. A door banged shut, and a middle-aged man with dark, slicked back hair and a cigarette hanging from his mouth strutted across the asphalt.
He whistled long and low as his gaze traveled the length of Lady. “That sure is one purty motor sickle.”
Missy feigned a smile and tried to ignore the brazen once-over he gave her next.
“Hello there.” His brow arched suggestively. “Are you lookin’ for a room for the night? Just for yourself, or do you have the boyfriend joining you?”
It took great resolve not to vomit all over his Velcro runners. “I’m really very tired. I need a hot shower and a bed for the night. How much?”
“Jim” took her fifty bucks and gave her a key for the room beside the office. His hand lingered in hers a few seconds longer than necessary. “If you feel like some company, come on over and I’ll buy ya a beer.”
Missy offered a cursory nod and straddled Lady. She rode up the sidewalk and parked as close to the window as possible. It took a couple of tries before the key turned in the lock and she opened the door.
Her stomach heaved, and she stumbled back. “Holy crap!” With one hand over her mouth, the other waved the putrid stench away. Never in her life had she smelled anything like it. Bug spray, cigarette smoke, air fresheners and God only knew what else, all rolled into one.
Once the green fog disappeared, the room looked reasonably clean, and the bare mattress held a full set of bedding, still wrapped in plastic. For the first time in her life, she was actually grateful at having to make her own bed.
The decision to stay or go depended on the state of the bathroom. With the cuff of her sweatshirt pulled over her hand, she opened the door and flicked on the light.
Thank God.
In contrast to the motel in general, the bathroom sparkled. Exhausted and relieved she didn’t have to look for another room, she sniffled. In a matter of minutes, her bag sat at the end of the bed and Lady was locked up, with a nylon cover over her sleeping bag and the other things strapped to her backrest.
With the bed made and a vanilla-scented candle lit, she stripped off her clothes on the way to the bathroom. A shower never felt so good. She lathered her body from her toes to her neck and washed her hair twice with raspberry-scented shampoo and creme rinse. It wasn’t until the water ran cold that she reluctantly stepped out of the stall and wrapped an oversized towel around her body.
Cigar smoke alerted her to company on the other side of the door. Missy double-checked her hold on the towel and pushed open the bathroom door. Her eyes widened to find the owner, Jim, sat on the edge of the bed, smoking, in nothing more than boxer shorts and black socks. His cheap cigar hung out of the corner of his mouth.
“Well now, don’t you smell good enough to eat?”
Rage gurgled in the pit of her stomach and exploded. “What the f**k are you doing?”
Jim patted the space on the bed beside him. “Come on now, sweet cheeks. I saw the way you looked at me. Has it been a while since you had any lovin’? Come here and let Big Jim take care of you.” He took the cigar out of his mouth and grabbed a handful of boxer shorts with his freed hand, flashing his yellowed teeth.
“You’ve got ten seconds to get the f**k out of my room before ‘Big Jim’ becomes a trophy for my bike.”
Jim stood up slowly and raised his hands in defense. “Whoa there, little lady. I’m going.”
He stuffed the cigar back in his mouth and inched across the room to the door, not taking his eyes off of her for one second.
Jim paused. “You know, you’re lucky I’m a nice guy. Anyone else would’ve taken what he wanted from a *** tease like you.” He slammed the door shut behind him with such force it rattled the window.
“Erg!” Missy ran to the door, locked it, slid the chain across and took a desk chair and wedged it under the handle for good measure. The nerve of that asshole. Let’s hope he’s not stupid enough to f**k with Lady.
Still, the thought of him in her room while she showered left a bad taste in her mouth. So much for slipping between the sheets naked. There wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening now.
Missy dressed completely and grudgingly stepped back into her boots. Asshole. She yanked the top sheet off the bed and covered a faded armchair before pushing it right up to the window where Lady sat on the other side.
I just need a couple of hours sleep. Then I’ll haul ass out of this dump.
Missy stretched out her legs, leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
This isn’t how I pictured the end of my first day on the road.



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New Release!

The Florists' gruesome journey began in Killer Scents.... 

" In Scent of a Killer, the nightmare is far from over for the two Harley riding detectives. The Florist is on the run with one thing on his mind.... revenge. "

Available on Amazon

Blurb:

Not even being locked up in an insane asylum is going to stand in the way of Danny aka The Florist exacting his revenge. Detective Becca Talbot is at the top of his list, but he can’t resist the temptation to mess with her mind first.

Becca doesn't know how much more she can take of Danny’s sinister acts. It seems they are one step behind every move he makes. How can they turn the tables and catch him in his own tangled web? More importantly, can they do it before anyone else falls prey to his demented mind? 

Excerpt:

From the corner of her eye, she spotted a girl dressed in a long peasant skirt, carrying a basket filled with red roses. Her heartbeat raced as the girl’s gaze settled on her and she began crossing the distance between them.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. I need to use the little girls’ room.”

Becca squelched the hysteria rising up as she reached the flower girl and lightly clasped her arm. “Please follow me,” she said as loud as she dared.

The young girl nodded discreetly as she continued on her solo way to the bathroom. Once inside, Becca put her hands on either side of a sink and dropped her head, breathing in and out slowly in a futile attempt to remain calm. Seconds passed before the door opened and the girl came in.

“Is everything okay?” Her hand moved as if in slow motion to take a rose and present it to her. “A gentleman in the foyer asked me to deliver this to you.”

Her hand trembled as she took the purple rose from the oblivious woman.

“What did this man look like?”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t tell. He wore a hat and long coat, and some kind of scarf hid his face except for his eyes.”

“Didn’t you find his appearance a little odd?”

“At first yes, until he told me about your dinner date and his allergic reaction to seafood and being covered in hives.”

Becca shook her head.

The girl lifted her basket slightly. “If it’s okay, I really need to get back to work.”

“Oh, of course ...?” She searched for a name tag on the girls’ shapeless dress.

“Jennifer.”

“Thank you, Jennifer. Do me a huge favor and keep this incident between us?”

Jennifer mimed zipping her mouth shut before spinning around and leaving. Becca twirled the rose between her fingers and snuck out of the bathroom to the front doors. On the other side, the doorman stood at his post with his hands clasped behind his back.

She pushed the door open. “Excuse me, but do you make a habit of letting masked men in with no questions asked?”

The man stepped back from her outburst. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Of course you don’t. Danny isn’t stupid enough to walk through the front doors.

“I’m sorry.” She hurried out to the parking lot and came to a full stop amidst the rows of cars, holding up the rose. “You don’t scare me,” she shouted and dropped the flower, crushing it with her shoe and grinding it into the asphalt. “I hope you’re watching you sick son-of-a-bitch. Hear this! I’m going to find you, and when I do, you can kiss your sorry ass good-bye!”

Adelle Laudan

Something for the Rebel in All of Us

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Adelle Laudan Blog Tour

How could I have a blog tour without Lindsay’s Romantics as one of the stops? I’m thrilled to have you all help me celebrate the release of Iron Horse Rider 3 & all three books now in print. ~Adelle Laudan

About the Series:

After losing his wife in a terrible motorcycle accident, Shane flees from everything and everyone that reminds him of Kelly. He discovers solace in a summer Micmac camp, and with the aid of Chief Gray Owl and the beautiful Tia, Shane’s heart begins to heal. On his journey he is introduced to a world of fire breathers, belly dancers, crystal balls and ghosts from his past.

A powerful evil presence descends upon the unsuspecting Micmac camp, and Shane joins forces with the spirit world to confront this threat and defend all he has come to know and love. Is Shane strong enough to face such a merciless entity, or is he destined to a life alone, riding in the wind?

About Adelle:

Adelle Laudan lives in Southern Ontario with two of her four children still under wing. Life as a single mom of two teenage daughters is ‘interesting’, to say the least, but a life she wouldn’t trade for all the money in the world. When most little girls dreamed of being a princess in a castle, waiting for their Prince Charming, Adelle dreamed of riding off into the sunset with a leather clad hero on a vintage motorcycle.

There are three things in life Adelle is most passionate about; family, writing, and motorcycles. Come ride the many twists and turns her stories will take you. Be sure to fasten your seatbelt, it’s going to be the ride you’ll not soon forget.

Adelle is chatting live this evening from 7 til 9 est at Brenda Williamson’s Romance Party. I hope to see you there!
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/BrendaWilliamsonRomanceParty/
Go here: http://adellelaudan.com/ to learn more about Adelle Laudan and her books!!

CONTEST:

All you have to do is chime in and say hello, ask a question or leave a comment to be included in the draw. If you’d like an extra entry, shout out about this contest and leave the link in your comment. Good luck to everyone!

1 set of eBook copies of Iron Horse 1 2 3

Christmas Magic

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if every person on the planet got the one thing they wished for most under the Christmas tree? Unfortunately this is far removed from the truth. This year will be one of the hardest for many families as they struggle to keep afloat this holiday season.

For many, myself included, the coming of the holidays is bitter sweet. This is when we feel the absence of loved ones passed before us. My Mother passed away on Boxing Day last year, so it will be especially hard for me. Like many with children, we must put on a brave front and try and make the holidays as festive as we can.

I invite you to let Christmas Magic take you away from all the stresses the season might bring you. At @2.99, it makes the perfect gift for each one of your cyber friends. After all, everyone can use a little Christmas Magic, right?

In Christmas Magic, a tragic fire puts a major damper on Laura Payne's holiday spirit. She'd just as well skip Christmas all together. A series of circumstances brings self-imposed bachelor, Justin Carron to care for his sixteen year old niece, Richelle, whom he's never laid eyes on.

A winter storm, and an unexpected turn of the wheel, on their way home from the airport, changes all three of their lives forever. Each one is faced with their own mortality, the prospect of becoming a family, and the kindness of strangers.

Mr. C. is a kind old man, who lives alone, and tends to a stable of deer. There is something different about the jolly old man with a white beard and suspenders. After a series of unexplained incidents, he shows them that all things are possible, if they'd just let go of the past, and believe in the magic of Christmas.

This is my first holiday themed story. I hope everyone turns the last page with a sense of hope for better days ahead, and maybe, just maybe...a little Christmas Magic.

Available NOW - December 3rd at Red Rose Publishing.

You can purchase your copy of Christmas Magic HERE

Thank you for letting me share my release day with you all.

I’d like to draw two names from all who participate today. One winner will get a tote bag with a few surprises tucked inside. The second winner will win a win a fun t-shirt.

Good luck to you all. From my family to yours, have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

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Our girl, Chachi

MidSummer Poetry Week ~ Day Four

I haven't written many poems, but I do find they are a great source of release when going through troubled times. The first one was written when I woke up one morning after being married for over ten years, and realized...the man lying next to me had become a virtual stranger.

Nothing More

Whispered in my ear
Three small words spoken many times before
My heart does not flutter like the first time
A moment of disbelief
Nothing more

A note left on the table
Signed in the same way as always
I look for some uniqueness in the words
A tear escapes
Nothing more

A letter in my mailbox
Words of endearment as if copied
No unpredictable gesture of kindness
A heavy sigh
Nothing more

A night of lovemaking
Hurried motions without meaning
No shudder reaches my lips
Cry into my pillow
Nothing more

Suitcase ready to depart
Filled with regrets of time lost
The words I love you have no meaning
When they are just words
Nothing more

Adelle Laudan
Copyright 2007

This poem was written during a period of time in my life where I lost one too many friends to the disease of alcoholism. I remember writing this the night of the funeral.

Rebel Child

Rebel child
Beautiful baby
Born into a life of abuse
Born destined to abuse her life

Rebel child
Always on the run
Not knowing where you are headed
Not knowing where you came from

Rebel child
Such a beauty
Using her smile to find acceptance
Using her smile to accept her reality

Rebel child
Silently weeping
Trying to understand her past
Trying to forget her memories

Rebel child
Easing the pain
Drowning her sorrows in a bottle
Drowning in an ocean of guilt

Rebel child
Always searching
Looking for love in all the wrong places
Looking for a place to call home

Rebel child
Is missing
No one is looking for her
No one knows she is gone

Rebel child
Finds peace
Escape was at the bottom of the bottle
Escape caressed her, took away the pain

Copyright 2005
Adelle Laudan

I don't want you to think my poems are only of sadness and heartache, so I will throw this one in the mix. I think the passion is very obvious.

RIDING IN THE RAIN

Some folks ride in the rain
To wash away their tears
Yearning for days of yesterday
Never shifting gears

They always ride the same old roads
Never venturing into the unknown
Cursing their life for opportunities missed
Crying as they head home

I don’t dwell on days gone by
I took a different route
I look forward to the open skies,
Riding free is what it’s all about

So, I bring to life my iron beast
As quickly as can be
I don’t want to miss a moment in time
There's still too much left to see

I want to feel the winds of time
Blowing in my face
I want to find many new roads
Not happy to be just taking up space

I want to see what's up ahead
Not where I should have turned
Life's too short to have regrets
Just long enough to learn

So when the rain is upon us
When you hear the thunder crack
Go for a ride and cleanse your spirit
Get your life back on track

It's all right to walk down memory lane,
That’s part of who we are
But, today is for the living
To chase a shooting star

The thrill is in the mystery
Not what you already know
In the wind is where it’s happening
Not knowing where you go

Life is riding all the twists and turns
Even when it starts to rain
It’s living in the moment
Ride on or go insane

You can’t see what’s around every corner
Sometimes you have to make a change
The world is yours for the taking
Even when it means riding in the rain

Adelle Laudan
Copyright  2004

I'd also like to share a Sqeeeeee!! moment in my house. My youngest daughter, soon to be 14 years old, graduated grade eight last night. She won two awards. One , Excellence in Visual Arts...and, The Award for Literacy! Was a very proud moment in my life.

Writers' Habits & Rituals

Quite often I'm asked if I have a routine or a writing ritual. I don’t really, except for the fact I write all my rough drafts by hand. The words seem to flow better for me with pen in hand. Also, I need complete silence, so do the bulk of my writing when I’m home alone. If I have a deadline and my girls are around, I've been known to take out my hearing aids and get ‘er done lol

Curiosity drove me to find other authors writing habits…

Stephen King famously writes no less than ten pages a day, even on holidays.

The Da Vinci Code's Dan Brown keeps an hourglass on his desk and, on the hour, puts aside his manuscript to perform push-ups, sit-ups, and stretches.

Michael Ondaatje, author of The English Patient, writes everything longhand and then literally cuts and pastes (with scissors and tape).

P.G. Wodehouse author of ‘The Inimitable Jeeves’ and many other works, used to pin the pages in undulating waves around the wall of his workroom. Pages he felt were working well would be pinned up high, and those that still needed work would be lower down the wall. His aim was to get the entire manuscript up to the picture rail before he handed it in.

Ernest Hemingway, “Papa” Hemingway wrote 500 words a day. That’s not bad, though. Hemingway woke early to write to avoid the heat and to write in peace and quiet. Interestingly, though Hemingway is famous for his alcoholism, he said he never wrote while drunk.

Truman Capote, the author of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” and “In Cold Blood” claimed to be a “completely horizontal author.” He said he had to write lying down, in bed or on a couch, with a cigarette and coffee. The coffee would switch to tea, then sherry, then martinis, as the day wore on. He wrote his first and second drafts in longhand, in pencil. And even his third draft, done on a typewriter, would be done in bed — with the typewriter balanced on his knees.

Danielle Steel works in concentrated marathon sessions, which affords her blocks of time she can devote to her large family. Unlike many of her heroines, Steel shies away from the limelight, refusing to do promotional tours, and lives a relatively quiet life that is frequently far from glamorous. When writing, she has been known to work eighteen-hour days, typing away on a 1948 metal-body Olympia in a flannel nightgown.

A typical day for one of my favorite authors, Maeve Binchy, is breakfast (grapefruit and Irish soda bread and tea,) then upstairs to a big, bright workroom. They have one long desk: her husband (Gordon Snell) is at one end, and Maeve at the other. He writes his children's books, and she does her stories. They both try to be at their desks by 8:30 AM, and they work until 1:00 PM. This includes answering mail and filing. Then when work is over, they have lunch and play a game of chess. They play seven days a week and have been doing so for over thirty years, and both admit they are still hopeless at it, but love it to bits.

For fun I asked a few author friends on Twitter if they listen to music when they're writing.

NinaPierce No music. Nadda. When I'm in full concentration, music scrambles my wiring and I can't think through it. Seems more people plan music to their book. But that is so not me. Music definitely can spur my imagination, but wreaks havoc on my thoughts.

Johnny Ray or Sirjohn_writer listens to many kinds of music, including Russian. I have others on my computer, from relaxing to explosive, it depends on my mood.

mgbraden Music? I actually don't usually listen to any. I find it easier to hear the voices without it! :-)

Stella Price or Eververse listens to alot of indie. I like The Faint, She Wants Revenge, GlassJaw and some old stuff like Leonard Cohen and Tom Waits. And LOVE Concrete Blonde.

SavannahChase listens to everything from Linkin Park, Matt Pokora, Incubus, Rob Thomas, Cinema Bizarre, Darren Hayes, The Midway State,BEP,Danny,Tommy Lee....I have a very eclectic taste..I am one of those author's who needs music while I write. I can't write in silence...Music inspires me and gives me the drive to let the story just flow through my fingers.

As you can see, the writing habits of all these authors, whether they be seasoned or new, is as diverse as the stories they tell. There is no right or wrong when it comes to settling in to write a story. The common bond I find with all authors is their love of the written word—an insatiable need to tell a story.

Write on…or go insane.

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Adelle's Pet

A Hog on a Hawg

Yes, we had a pot-bellied pig for a pet. In the above pic is about 2 months old . I have a friend who runs a safe haven for abandoned and injured animals. I made the mistake of dropping in to see her just days after her pot belly pig had babies. Needless to say, I fell in love. Unfortunately, that litter had already been sold, so I asked her to give me a call the next time.

Months passed and I completely forgot about it until she called me one day. Another litter was due the following month and if I wanted, I could come out when they were born and pick out the one I wanted, but he/she couldn’t go home with me until they were eating solid food and were weaned off of their mother. (Approx. 6 weeks)

The following month we made the trip to her farm to see the litter. OMG, if you haven’t seen baby pigs, you have to. They were all too cute for words. There was one black one with a white stripe down the nose, and she told us it was a boy. Perfect, 'Junior' would be coming home with us when they were ready.

It was crazy how excited I was over getting this pig. I researched them online to find they really are smart, clean animals. I even made her a pillow to lie on and embroidered the name Junior on it. Finally the day arrived to bring Junior home.

My friend had to go down to the barn alone to bring Junior to us so as not to traumatize the mom any more than necessary. We heard Junior long before we saw Junior. Pigs DO NOT like to have their feet off of the ground. Junior’s squeals could be heard for miles, I’m sure. I sat in the van, anxious as an expectant mother until she placed Junior on my lap for the ride home.

Once home, we pretty much let Junior be to adjust at his own pace. Later that evening, my now ex, laid on the floor and Junior would come up and snuggle into his neck.That eveningthe ex started laughing so hard, I had to come see what all the fuss was about.

“What’s so funny?”

He is wiping tears from his eyes. “I think something fell off on the drive home.”

I looked at him like he had three heads. “What the hell are you talking about… something fell off…”

I’m pretty sure a light bulb above my head lit up. “Ohhhh!!!”

Yup, you guessed it; Junior wasn’t a Junior after all… Junior was a girl, hence to be called Jenny from that day forward.

Jenny didn’t stay little for long, and last I saw her she weighed in at 150 lbs. Jenny lives with the ex now, and I miss her from time to time. Like when I make popcorn. We used to fill up a ball with holes in it with popcorn. Jenny would nudge the ball around with her nose and gobble up every piece that came out until the ball was empty. We had her house trained and even taught her to ‘Sit’.

By the time she was 5 years old, she was just too heavy and ‘pig-headed’ for me to care for her. She had a major crush on my ex, and became very territorial of him. I’m sure she was thrilled to see me go lol

I’m glad I had Jenny. It was an experience in itself. Like my mother said, when I told her about the new arrival…

“Can’t you do anything normal?”

What Is Biker Fiction

What is Biker Fiction?

Biker Fiction is my favourite genre to write. I’ve lived amongst the ‘biker’ community most of my adult life. When I became a published author, I made it my mission to try and change the image of bikers, one book at a time.

More often than not, when you read something in the paper about bikers, it’s something bad. Unfortunately many people believe just that , that all people who ride motorcycles and wear black leather jackets are bad ass troublemakers with no regard for the law, or ‘citizens’ in general.

I’m here to say, nothing could be further from the truth. Every year bikers from all over the globe raise hundreds of thousands of dollars for charity—Ride for Site, Ride for Cancer Research, Ride for Juvenile Diabetes...the list is endless.

Most of the people I have grown up and lived amongst are contributing members of society who believe family comes first. These same people live, love and laugh the same as you and I. The only difference being, they share a love for riding motorcycles and the open roads.

My books try to portrait ‘bikers’ as regular people, who cry when their hearts are breaking and laugh out loud at the antics of children. I invite you to check out my Iron Horse Ride series, or Smiling Eyes. I also have a new release coming out next week, March 25th, titled Crucified.

Let me share a little about this before I sign off.

Coming to The Wild Rose Press – March 25th, 2009

Crucified

Romantic Suspense /Crimson Rose Line

Sneak Peek:

Casey struggled to open her eyes. She blinked numerous times trying to focus in the darkness. Painfully, she managed to inch her way across the rank mattress and wedge herself upright in the corner. With every move, the duct tape binding her wrists and ankles bit into her flesh.

An insurmountable desire to scream was stifled by the duct tape her captor had pulled taut across her mouth. She’d only see him once since being brought here and even then the darkness hid his identity. He’d stayed long enough to snap a picture before he slipped through the partially open doorway. The sound of it locking behind him resounded through the room.

Who is this man? Why is he doing this to me?

The last thing she remembered was walking home from Tammy’s house when someone came up from behind her and shoved a putrid smelling cloth in her face.

She’d woken up in this room, bound and gagged. There was no telling how long she’d been unconscious. The only way to differentiate from day to night was the sliver of a crack at the bottom of the door where light filtered in.

Casey choked back the flood of emotion rising up in her. She struggled for breath, unable to open her mouth. Tears poured down her face unchecked, and she closed her eyes.

Am I going to die here?

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Wishing You Miles of Smiles J

Adelle ‘Legs’ Laudan