Orgasms with Altitude

Are you a world traveler?


I wasn’t … until I started writing books. The travel part wasn’t on my radar when I first introduced the world to Addy and Quinn in The Holding You Series. I just wanted someone, ANYONE, to read my story. I remember hitting ten reviews on Amazon and feeling like I was a rock star.

Six years and eighteen books later, I’m blessed with opportunities to travel around the world to meet readers, pose for pictures, sign books with my shaky hand, and vomit in hotel rooms. Jet lag is real, and she is an unforgiving BITCH!

Scarlet Stone, Transcend, and Epoch have been translated into Hebrew. Yes, you read that right. Don’t be fooled by the stereotypes associated with Israel. It is a beautiful, historically rich, and holy land, but it’s also home to modern cities like Tel Aviv with sprawling beaches kissing the Mediterranean, high rises, startups second only to Silicon Valley, more vegan restaurants than this plant-eater could dream of on her best day, and … ROMANCE READERS! Honestly, everyone we encountered in Israel was amazingly generous, gracious, and incredibly kind. <3


Usafrut—my Israeli publisher - invited me and a small handful of other romance authors to Tel Aviv for a book signing. Well … it was much more than a signing. They hosted a trip to Jerusalem (which I missed because of that evil BITCH, jet lag), organized a phenomenal reception for readers and authors with SO MUCH FOOD, then of course there was a signing, and another reception with a stunning display of more food and ALL the drinks, a fun panel discussion, and an afterparty with a performance by Rotem Cohen ( a very sexy guy with an equally sexy voice). I couldn’t understand any of the lyrics, but he sang them in a very sexy way. ; )

Did I mention my travel companion was my son, Logan? A twenty-year-old photographer who had WAY too much to drink at the reception (drinking age in Israel is 18). Let’s just say the toilet in our bathroom was worshipped a lot during our stay.


To say I’m still in shock that my writing has brought me to this point in my life where people around the world are reading my stories in different languages would be a massive understatement. It’s an honor, a dream I never dared to actually dream, an opportunity I’m blessed to have bestowed upon me, and a million other perfectly inadequate words. <— see what I did there.

I took my only daughter on the trip with me too, Dorothy Mayhem. She hates to travel, such a homebody. We made her pose for so many photos and let strangers write all over her. We even got her wet in the Dead Sea.

I’m living a version of my best life. In other parallel universes, I hope I’m living the travel part without that BITCH called jet lag. Still, I can’t complain. Opportunity is a gift. I will never take that gift for granted. Even as I contemplate cancelling my trip to Scotland next year to attend a signing in Edinburgh because I’m scared of the jet lag and how incredibly awful I feel when it hits me, and how it threatens to ruin plans. I fear it could hit me on the day of a signing and my trip will be all for nothing. Yet, I think, “IT’S AN INCREDIBLE OPPORTUNITY! SUCK IT UP BUTTERCUP!”


But really … my point to this seemingly pointless blog is this … how the hell do people have sex on air planes? I splurged on business class on the way to Tel Aviv, hoping if I could get good sleep, jet lag wouldn’t be so bad. Epic fail! As I was saying … I’ve seen the “nicer” toilets on planes, and I have to say there was only one toilet on all the planes we took that I could say maybe. Maybe two people could fit into it and have sex. But what about the people sitting right outside the door or congregating in the aisles to use the toilet next? I mean … THEY SEE YOU GO IN THERE! They know what you’re doing.

And the germs … am I the only one concerned about the germs? Do you whip out your privates and stir them together in a tiny toilet room? I just … well, I just don’t know. These are issues I will have to work out in my writing. Maybe Dr. Jones or Dr. Hawkins can help me with my issues.

In the meantime … I will now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.




Are You Perfectly Adequate?


Let’s talk books. I mean, if you’re not here for that, then it’s just a little creepy.

Did you read Look the Part? If not, I’m not mad, just disappointed. It’s translated into multiple languages, and it’s available in audiobook for you multitasking geniuses.

Anyhoo … I’ve had so many requests for Harrison’s story. He’s the autistic son in Look the Part—for those of you who have epically disappointed me by not reading this story. And because I don’t actually listen to you, I decided to write Perfectly Adequate aka Not Harrison’s Story. I’ve been telling everyone that if you loved Look the Part, you will love this story. I’m basing that on nothing in particular. It just seems like good marketing since Look the Part did so well.

You will soon meet Dorothy Mayhem. And you will discover she is not Harrison. Yes, they are both on the spectrum. But to quote Dorothy (which I do a lot) …

“The spectrum is human. It’s not autistic.”

But for ease of explanation, let’s just say the spectrum reference is ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder). You probably know someone on this spectrum, and even if you’re thinking, “No, Jewel, I really don’t.” Let me just tell you … you do.

I digress …

Dorothy Mayhem is an adult character on this beautiful, colorful, neurodiverse spectrum. This is not a book about autism. It’s a love story with SO much heart. I dare you to not fall in love with these characters and their REAL LIFE struggles.

Many parts of this story have been—let’s just say “inspired”—by people in my life. I had a plethora of stories shared by friends and my own firsthand accounts of navigating relationships. That fine line between love and hate really isn’t even a line. It’s a jagged edge that can cut you, letting you bleed out, not knowing if the pain you feel is because you love someone or hate them.

“Had I not loved her right down to my soul, I wouldn’t hate her so much.”  

I met Kim Holden for coffee a few months ago. And she said something along the lines of writing life stories, not necessarily love stories. This resonated with me so much. I’m a sucker for love stories. I always have been. But they don’t feel right to me if there’s not a solid dose of life in the story.

I can say with absolute certainty … these characters are LIFE! And the “villain,” if there is one, is ME! Okay, not me exactly, but her name is Julie. I took forty-four years of fears, self-doubt, and emotional instability, and poured it into this character. I let her be the voice for women I know who have hit these crossroads in their lives like hitting a concrete wall going seventy miles per hour. Oh the destruction and guilt!

You’ll see. ; )

So … in a little over a month, I’m giving you a patient transporter/nursing student, two doctors, a three-year old boy, two endearing families, and a couple of emus. I hope you let yourself fall in love with these characters because they are so incredibly special. <3

“Dorothy Mayhem sex involves a playing field—maybe a battlefield—a time clock, and placement medals.” 

Coming September 29


Dr. Elijah Hawkins needs … something. 

After his wife jumps headfirst into a midlife crisis, he’s left with his young son, Roman, and a lot of unanswered questions. 

That something turns out to be a someone—Dorothy Mayhem, nursing student, patient transporter, reckless driver, and emu owner. 

Dorothy studies humans, the neurotypical kind, through books and television. Then she emulates their behavioral patterns to fit in with her peers.

But nothing can prepare her for Dr. Elijah Hawkins. 

Single dad. 

Brilliant pediatric oncologist. 

And the sexiest doctor at the hospital. 

When his failed attempts at asking her out turn into a string of playdates with his son, Dorothy finds herself unexpectedly enamored with the boy and his father. 

And that’s a problem, a huge one, because Elijah’s ex-wife is a famous plastic surgeon—and Dorothy’s idol. 

Perfectly Adequate is a beautiful, hilarious, and heart-felt journey along the “human” spectrum. 

Add to Goodreads!

That Time I Tried to Get High ...

Before we get to my first experience with marijuana, let’s talk about Jersey Six. Coming June 13th!

It’s dark without giving too many graphic details. It’s suspenseful without losing the reader. It’s sexy without throbbing penises. It’s a love story before you ever know if any of the characters actually love each other.

Nouns for Jersey Six: rock star, homelessness, amnesia, victim, target, tragedy, knives, boxing, jets, venues, fuckery. <—my favorite one. ; )

In the words of Forrest Gump, “That’s all I have to say about that.”

Moving on …

I took another girls’ trip to Colorado. I love the mountains. I love good friends who are willing to take a hike or swing from a pole, but just as willing to sit in silence and take in breathtaking views. I am a Goldilocks traveler—not too many plans, not too few. I like that just-right trip filled with adventures and sprinkled with opportunities to do nothing more than enjoy the moment.

Here are some highlights from my trip:

Tea with Kim Holden.

Juice with Ella James.

Finalizing edits on Jersey Six.

Happy hour at Vital Root.

My first trip to a dispensary. Not what I expected, but I had a lovely time chatting with the budologist.

First time using marijuana. Disappointing for the first three uses. Dry eyes and dry mouth. No high. BUT … by my fourth exposure, I felt the chill. It was magical. Everything s l o w e d way down. No shits were given. And I totally understood how music might sound better, creativity could be heightened, and sleep could come easily. I’m 100% thinking of buying a one-room cabin in the mountains to go for a few weeks at a time when I need to write all the awesomeness. Just a thought …

Sunset at Sapphire Point overlooking Lake Dillion—watching the chipmunks.

Planning a true paranormal book that I hope to write next year.

Realizing by the end of the week, that although I loved my time away, I couldn’t wait to get home to my family.

Scraping the door of the rental car that I parked too close to a concrete pillar in a parking garage. I know … I know … how is this a highlight? Well, no one was hurt. It was a scraped up door. I have insurance. And it was an opportunity to be the best version of myself. I could let the mishap that happened on the last day of our trip ruin the whole thing for me (and my friends), or I could shrug, make a call to my insurance company, and forget about it. So … we laughed all the way down the mountain. Grabbed a quick lunch on a sunny 70 degree day in Denver, and headed to the airport.

Moral of the story: Life is meant to be lived. Take risks. Take time to just be. Laugh until you pee a little. Swing from poles. Try a bit of weed. (*disclaimer - legally) Don’t sweat a little scratched paint.

Comment with your last adventure, or your last “oops” that you didn’t let ruin your day.

Have a great weekend!



Five Ways I Find Happiness without an Orgasm


The hubs and I traded in our bi-weekly orgasms for a new adjustable bed and a television in our bedroom. Before you judge us or call us old, you need to know that adjustable beds are THE BEST!!!! 

This year marked twenty years of marriage, and we’ve discovered several things: 

Butt, leg, and toe cramps during sex can quickly kill the mood. Popcorn in bed is okay as long as there is not butter on it. And sometimes Grey’s Anatomy with that tub of popcorn is a better choice than sex. (see cramps reference above)

If you’re looking for something to put a smile on your face that’s a little less toe-curling than bow chicka wow wow, then I have some of my own grand moments to share with you. 

  1. Gifs

I love gifs. They make me smile, giggle, and sometimes pee a little. See … basically like sex. I can have entire conversations with my assistant, Jenn, using only gifs. And it’s the “gif” that keeps on giving “giffing” ::snorts:: because I don’t delete messages. So, every time I bring up that screen, I see the gifs we’ve shared. Gifs make me feel connected to people in this crazy world of cyberspace. 

Have you ever met someone online and didn’t really know if you liked them, then BOOM! They use a gif that makes you smile or laugh. You instantly feel like they are an awesome person because of their gif choice. 


2. Giggles

My ten-year-old son’s favorite pastime is giggling. He finds laughter in the craziest moments. It’s innocent and genuine. It fills me with unimaginable happiness. When is the last time you giggled? Not laughed, but giggled or snorted—the laugh you try to suppress but it just needs to come out. 

3. Reminiscing 

I’ve had a good life. So, when I get together with family, I love reminiscing about the past. It’s usually funny stuff that leads to a good case of the giggles, but sometimes it’s the walk down memory lane filled with “Can you believe?” or “Who would have thought?”

Who would have thought that I’d write romance novels while sitting in an adjustable bed with the vibrator function on full throttle? 

4. Food 

Are you following me on YouTube and Instagram? Of course you are. Well, you’re in for a real treat. This holiday season I will make some of my favorite recipes from my new kitchen and post videos of my culinary orgasms. 

5. Music

No, my new bed doesn’t play music. But Siri hooks me up with the best playlists. My favorite is “dinner music.” I ask her to play dinner music and she says, “Here is a personalized playlist for entertaining.” **Important note: If I ask her to play “entertainment music,” it’s not the same. It’s not as good. Air Supply, Maroon 5, Sinatra, One Republic, Dave Matthews … THE BEST playlist! See what your Siri cooks up for you at dinner time. 

In the meantime, I’ll be dancing with my kids in the kitchen, reminiscing to old songs with my husband while cooking delicious meals, sending Jenn gifs, and giggling the whole time. And when I’m done … I might have sex in my adjustable bed because an orgasm is still pretty damn amazing! 

Tell me about your happy times! 



Let's Get Naked!


Bell-bottoms are back in style! This girl could not be happier about the flared-leg trend. Perhaps it’s because I’m a tree-hugging, peace-loving chick. Most likely it’s because I dislike the shape of my body.

That’s the naked truth. 

That flare at the bottom is much more flattering to my curvy hips and ass than the soul-crushing, ego-hating skinny jean trend. 

While I’m at it, can I just say that my hair is thinning and losing its luster. I have these little, red, pin dots taking over my skin—probably some vitamin deficiency. I have stretch marks, varicose and spider veins, keratosis pilaris, sagging boobs, yellowing teeth, T-rex-length arms, cellulite, zero upper body strength, small toes, two whiskers that want to grow on my chin each month with my menstrual cycle … OH, and speaking of my menstrual cycle, every month it’s like the coming of Christ. I don’t know the day or the hour and neither do the angels in Heaven. Too bad for my underwear and my sense of security and dignity in public. :( 

How shallow of me right? I shouldn’t base my sense of self worth on physical attributes. 

The good news? I don’t. 

I’m smart and fun. I’m a good mom and a loving, sexually submissive wife. Kidding ;) I’m not always a good mom. I genuinely care about all life. I hug tress because they give us oxygen and they help to keep the earth cool. I’m an advocate for peace because death really sucks. I’ve recently shut off my FaceBook notifications, in spite of how it could affect my author business, because I need to be more efficient with my work so I can spend more time with my family. 

See … I’ve got some good shit going on even with all my physical imperfections. 

But here’s the point, because I do have one. It’s okay to not like something about yourself. It’s okay to care about how you look or have a part of you that’s a bit materialistic, vain, or judgmental. <—Yes, I know … thou shalt not judge. But we all do it. 

No one knows the meaning of life. (IMHO) So embrace your insecurities, celebrate your awesomeness, make mistakes, make someone’s day—make your own day!

Just remember to be kind to everyone—including yourself. 

Remember to forgive others—and forgive yourself. 

There you have it. I just gave you the morals of my upcoming stories: A Place Without You and Naked Love. 

You are now primed and ready to read. 

Naked Love  - Read it while I write it.

A Place Without You - Add it to your Goodreads TBR. 

Have you had swass?


Swass: the sweat that runs down your back and settles into the crack of your ass. 

We kicked off the summer with a trip to NYC with our oldest. It was HOT. No big deal if you're not spending hours walking in the suffocating city or waiting for a subway train in stagnant, recycled air. 


Still ...


It was an unforgettable trip filled with laughter, new adventures, amazing food, and swass. (Sweat running down our asses ALL day long) 




Swass-free for five seconds. 

The night we splurged and took a Lyft to dinner and the show. 


Laughed my ass off, until ... 


intermission, we got several texts from home. (Iowa) Home got 10 inches of rain in one day! By some miracle we didn't get water in our basement. 


I still get tears ...

There's nothing more breathtaking than seeing the world through your child's eyes.  


He watched the city ...

I watched him. 


I stood at this spot for long minutes ...

waiting for this image to tell me a story. 


And so we said goodbye ... 


Two weeks later ...

This girl drove 10 hrs. to Colorado. Aaannnddd ... I was home. Okay, not home, but back to my place of birth. Once a mile-high girl, always a mile-high girl. Feel free to make your own interpretation. ; ) 


Seriously ... 

I'm sorry, but no skyscraper can compare to this. I didn't want to come down from my happy place. There was this little gathering of book nerds called Book Bonanza, but me? Nope ... I wanted to stay in the mountains. 



Still not coming down from these mountains. 


Eventually ... I came down. 

Book Bonanza 2018. Wow! What can I say? I met Jonesies and ... other readers! WTF? Yes! I have more than 5 people who read my books. I was BLOWN away. On Friday, from 8-midnight, I had a line at my table. Not one sip of water, not one potty break. I fought back tears on several occasions, luckily I was too dehydrated to squeeze out a single watery emotion. 


"This isn't my life." <— My mantra the whole weekend. Seriously! I am a professional daydreamer. I get PAID to tell you stories. This isn't my life. 


But ... I'm going to pretend that no one catches on and takes away this dream. 





And then there's this ...

We started a mainlevel renovation in June—another reason we are so grateful our basement didn't flood with the 10 inches of rain. We would have been homeless. 

IMG_0358 2.JPG

I have cabinets!

And a HUGE island. I am over the moon about this island. No countertops yet. Next month I'll share them with you.  

IMG_0362 2.JPG

My pride and joy ...

My walk-in pantry. It's going to be the first place I take guests when they come to visit. 


Look! It's my nook!

It's a lovely little table shy of being my new hangout spot to drink tea and write all the words! But soon ... 


So there you have it ... my summer thus far. 

I'm off to Europe on Tuesday for two weeks. I can't wait to see some of my friends/readers from the other side of the pond. I just hope they won't be afraid to hug me after seeing ^^^^. Yeah, I swam in the swamp. After 4 days of Swass ... I just didn't give a rat's ass. 





Can I make a recommendation?

I've discovered something very important over the past decade—my opinion doesn't matter.

Let me rephrase, my opinion shouldn't matter. Yet, here I am, sharing my opinion on books. Let's just get this out in the open—I'm a terrible book reviewer. I can craft some pretty magical characters who speak words of wisdom and even the occasional profound phrase that may leave readers pondering the meaning for days. **Just kidding. I'm full of shit. 

I digress ... but when it comes to reading other books, I'm terrible. Just rubbish, to use a Scarlet Stone term, at formulating a helpful opinion. <—Or crafting a complete sentence. 

My taste is diverse and ever-changing. I love alpha males one day and hate them the next. I like dark but not too dark, funny but not stupid, angst until it hurts, unsolvable mysteries, and screwed-up characters. 

I used to say my only requirement for a good story was impeccable writing. That's not the case anymore. There are amazing writers—award-winning wordsmiths who make every sentence sound  gleefully poetic. They bring settings to life with magical technicolor. But ... the story gets overshadowed by paragraphs of adjective vomit. 

Don't get me wrong, I will always hold a certain amount of envy toward these magical scriveners. But I get bored with description and oftentimes I feel like the setting drowns the plot or the story  moves at a snail's pace because the characters' thoughts are delivered in long, unbroken paragraphs of internal monologue. After pages and pages of no white space, I long for a quote. PLEASE, let them speak!

To quote every editor's favorite line, "Show, don't tell." 

Then we have the next category of writers—the one to which I belong. They (we) are the storytellers. Fuck the description, if you've seen one beach, you've seen them all. If you've never seen the beach, Google it and save us both paragraphs of pain. We are the dialogue junkies. Our stage comes with very few props, but we hope you focus on the meaning behind the words to the point that you don't care what color the character's shoes are, or the style of the chandelier in the foyer. 

We count on your brain to fill in the blanks. Your beach might not be our beach, but if it's not important to the story, then who cares? 

Finally, we have the elite writers who manage to strike a balance. They are concise with their words, painting magical pictures with one or two sentences and returning to witty dialogue before the reader gets bored. These are the unicorn writers. BUT—are you ready? My unicorn writer may not be your unicorn writer. You may need a three hundred word description of a beach, where all I need is one word—beach. 

So basically, all of the above is nothing more than a disclaimer before I share some books that I have enjoyed for many reasons. This is not a complete list. It is a growing list. If you like recommendations, I encourage you to check back as I comb through my digital bookshelves and jog my old lady memory in search of the books that have made me smile or scream or simply kept me up past midnight searching for answers. 

Peace to all, 


**Disclaimer - 11th hour blog post without editing. 

Rhythm is The Heartbeat of Your Soul

I'm pooped. There, I said it. 


The triathlon of self-publishing:  

1st Leg - Writing writing writing writing ... 

2nd Leg - Edit Edit Edit Edit ... 

3rd Leg - Publish and promote promote promote promote ... 


^^^^That's me now. An overachiever because I'm publishing TWO more books by the first week in April. 


stupid stupid stupid stupid 

"Mmm, my landlord likes to role play. Me too."&nbsp;

"Mmm, my landlord likes to role play. Me too." 


So no Vlog for you. Sorry. If you follow me on Facebook, then you know I've already posted a live video to my page—nothing short of an awkward mess. AND ... if you're a hardcore stalker, then you know I have a Look the Part Spoiler Group where I did a live Q&A, unknowingly with hearts around my head the whole damn time! ::Facepalm::


So here's what I have for you: MUSIC!!!! My playlist for Look the Part. And because I feel so bad about the missing Vlog, (Actually, I don't) I've made some special notes for the songs. 


Enjoy! I'll see you in March with a birthday celebration and another book! (Transcend. Be ready. I'm going to break you.) ::insert evil laugh::

Look The Part Playlist

"Why" by Skinny Living - 100% Flint's song. If this were made into a movie, this would be the theme song. 

"Lights Down Low" by MAX - For sex scenes, the tender ones. ;) 

"Mended" Acoustic by Vera Blue - The last scene of the book before the epilogue. 

"Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur - Cape Cod, when "the doctor" arrives. 

"Here Comes The Sun" by The Beatles - Epilogue 

"Something" by The Beatles - Bedroom dancing

"Suit And Jacket" by Judah & the Lion - Harrison's song (Live, dear child. Live YOUR life) 

"Poison & Wine" by The Civil Wars - "I kiss him and I cry. I kiss him and I break. I kiss him and I pretend that it matters. But ... it doesn't, so I just kiss him." 

"Nocturnes, Op. 9: No. 2 in E-Flat Major" by Frédéric Chopin - The private plane. 

"Sorry" by Halsey - Just because. 

"Pillowtalk, the living room" by ZAYN - Office stairs - oh my my my ::fans self::

"Feelin' Love" by Paula Cole - Ellen in the bath tub. 

"Make You Feel My Love" by Adele - "I'm going to love you so hard, time won't matter ... distance won't matter ... all you'll feel when you take each breath ... is my love." 

"Collide - Acoustic Version" by Howie Day - "You should leave ..." "Why?" "Because if you don't, I'm going to fall in love with you." 

"Benjamin and Daisy" by Alexandre Desplat - My favorite instrumental music to get into Ellen's head. 

Check it out on Spotify. 

Have a great weekend! 


Love, Jewel 

I Made the Naughty List

I don’t want to record a vlog. 

I don’t want to record a vlog.

I don’t want to record a vlog. 


I didn’t record a video this month. Instead … 


I messaged my son’s science teacher and vented about how the lack of physical text books and clear objectives has led to said son’s poor science grade. Then I demanded Mr. Science Teacher send me everything so I can be young spawn’s study buddy in my free time. **Not happy with my son either. 


THEN … I messaged same son’s basketball coach because Mr. I Don’t Value Parents’ Time kept me waiting again for more than 30 minutes in my idling minivan with younger spawn getting impatient, and groceries melting 


BECAUSE … Mr. Basketball Coach decided to make all the kids do extra running drills at the end of practice since a few were goofing off. 

Fine. Run their little video-gaming asses off, but do it at the beginning of the next practice so you don’t keep parents waiting for f**king ever!!!!!


SO … I’m struggling to channel holiday cheer, which is crazy because I’m not a victim of the deadly weather that’s plagued the earth this year. 


I have shelter, clothing, food, family, and my health. I have friends and this bizarre life as Jewel E. Ann where I get to be a storyteller. I get paid to share the thoughts in my head. 


THEREFORE … I’m selfishly writing this blog for me, myself, and I because I need a reminder of all the reasons I have to be grateful. And while most of the time I am a very zen person, today I feel every ounce of my imperfect humanity. I feel the pain around me. I feel the deep division of my country. I hurt for those who are victims. I fear for the future of my children. 


I. Am. Human.


If you’re human too, know that it’s okay to have a moment of pity—a less than zen moment. You don’t have to take it out on science teachers and coaches (but seriously, my time matters too, Mr. Basketball Coach) ::deep breath:: 


Find joy. It really is right in front of you. Embrace happiness. Spread love. Give gratitude.  


And … if you don’t want to record a vlog this month, then don’t record a vlog. 






P.S. After typing this up, I feel instant regret. I didn’t intend to vent, but I did. It’s 10:30 on Thursday night. I need to post something in my newsletter tomorrow, but I’m out of time. I’m leaving town in the morning, and I still haven’t packed. So this is it. This has to be the jolly blog for December. I’m going out of 2017 with a real doozy. Yay me! 










Where's Jewel?

There was a video mishap on Friday. YouTube rejected every attempt I made all day Thursday to upload my video blog. So I eventually gave up. In the bigger picture of nuclear bomb threats and white supremacy, I didn’t think my video blog about social media robbing my autonomy really should matter to anyone. 

Honestly, I don’t know what to blog about. I have a million thoughts in my mind, but life feels volatile right now, so I’m not going to say anything because it would probably be misconstrued. 

So here’s what we’re going to do instead … read fiction!!!!! 

Speaking of volatile … months ago I started writing Flint’s story. If you haven’t read One then this means nothing. You can still get excited because Flint’s story (clearly I haven’t titled it) will be a standalone. 100%. I wanted it to be a darker story. Flint has a traumatic past. 

But … I changed my mind. My love for the heroine in the story has changed my mind. So when I return to this book in October, I’m going to start over and make it a rom-com. 

I know. I know. I call all of my books rom-coms, but I’m really really REALLY going to try and follow through on this one. Perhaps I won’t kill anyone. That makes it a rom-com. Right? 

Has anyone caught where I’m going with this post? I’m going to share some of Flint’s book in its original, unedited, darker version. 

Here you go! 


Heidi gave me a son and then I killed her. Lucky were the bastards who learned life lessons from close calls. I envied those lucky bastards. 


“Don’t drink tonight. I want you to put another baby inside of me,” my wife whispered as her hand slid up my leg under the table surrounded by twelve of our closest family and friends. Heidi picked my favorite steak house in Omaha and reserved the party room for my day. I had no idea until everyone yelled surprise. 

I loved her beyond words. 

“And for the birthday boy?” The brunette waitress winked at me, readying her pen against the pad of paper in her hand. 

“Whisky neat.” 

Heidi frowned. 

I grabbed her hand and pressed it to my erection. “I’m not going to have any issues granting your request.” 

“We’ll see.” Her curt response held little confidence. 

My parents had driven in from Denver to surprise me, but my two-year-old son, Harrison stole the show. They took turns gushing over him with Heidi’s mom. I didn’t anticipate being a father before I graduated college; I also didn’t anticipate meeting the woman I couldn’t live without at the exact moment I needed her the most. 

She was a nursing student at the hospital they sent me to the day an ACL injury shattered my football career. I called her an angel. Heidi insisted it was the drugs they gave me for the pain. 

“Monaghan said you’re going to be his agent when he goes Pro.” My dad gave me a curious look. 

“Monaghan is full of shit. No team in their right mind will draft Pretty Boy. He’s going to be a teacher. That right there shows you he’s too much of a pussy to have a serious chance in the NFL.” 

The Cornhusker’s young quarterback shot me a smirk from the other end of the table. We both knew he’d go Pro, but I wasn’t going to inflate his ego on my birthday.

“Language, Hopkins,” Heidi warned. 

When she called me by my last name, I squirmed in my chair. It always meant a punishment would follow, and all of her punishments were doled out in the bedroom. 

I loved her beyond words. 

The night marched on without missing one perfect beat. 

Dinner. Friends. Family. Food. Drinks. 

My wife outdid herself. She excelled in making every day perfect. She also excelled in making me feel irresponsible for drinking. Every time the waitress placed another drink in front of me, Heidi’s lips pursed into a disapproving frown. 

I let it slide without argument. Before he died, her father was abusive and he drank a lot of alcohol. When we met, she thought I didn’t drink. At the time, it was true. Football was my life. I treated my body like a temple. But after my injury, I settled into a life where my body was no longer a temple and the occasional drink was exactly what I needed to ease the pain of lost dreams. 

Heidi thought every guy who drank was an abusive alcoholic. I made it my mission to prove her wrong so maybe someday she too would relax a little and have a drink on special occasions. 

“Happy Birthday, Flint. Take care of my babies.” Heidi’s mom, Sandy, hugged me as everyone said their final birthday wishes and goodnights. 

“That’s code for hand the keys to your wife.” Heidi nudged me with a playful smile that I knew was not at all meant to be playful. 

Sandy squeezed my cheeks and looked into my eyes. “I think he’s fine, sweetie. Nothing like your father was, so give him some slack.” 

I shot Heidi an I-told-you-so look. Her mother loved me. I was everything her father hadn’t been. Heidi hated that I could do no wrong in Sandy’s eyes, but I loved it. A dangerous pride came with so much confidence. 

After she fastened Harrison into his carseat, Heidi held out her hand. 

“I’m fine.” I opened the driver’s door. 

“You’re not. You drank a lot tonight.” 

“I weigh a lot.” 


I slipped into the driver’s seat. “Call me Hopkins, baby. I like where that leads.” 

“Flint, I’m serious. Our child is in the backseat.” She stood between me and the door so I couldn’t shut it.

“I want to be in my birthday suit with you. Get in so we can get Harrison to bed.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest, raven hair flowing in all directions, blue eyes piercing mine. 

“I’m. Fine.” 

Heidi shrugged. “Great. Then don’t be a chauvinistic pig. Just let me drive.” 

Thunder rumbled in the distance as a few drops of rain fell from the night sky. 

“You’re going to get wet.” 

She huffed and stomped to the other side of the car. “Stubborn ass,” she mumbled as she buckled up.

“Language, Mommy.” I chuckled as I started the car. 

“There will be a special place in Hell for you, Flint Hopkins, if you kill us or anyone else with your drunk driving.” 

I put the car in drive and cupped the back of her head, pulling her forehead to mine before letting up on the brake. “You’re my world. I would never hurt you. I love you beyond words.” 

“Jesus, Flint …” she whispered. “Your breath reeks of whiskey, I’m begging you … let me drive.” 

I released her and let up on the brake. As much as I loved my wife, I also loved being a man. And a strong man knew his limits and didn’t have to be told when he was or wasn’t capable of doing something. 




Three days later I buried my wife in a cemetery two blocks from our house. 








Are you a freak in the bedroom?

No. I'm not. But thanks for asking. 

As promised on my Facebook page a few weeks ago, here are the answers to some of your burning questions for me. 

Q: Will we be getting anymore books from the Knight and Day group?

A. No. Not likely. I love their story just the way I wrote it. Unless ... Netflix calls and wants to make Jack and Jill a series. Then I will kill another charcter or two and stir up trouble. 

Q. Are you going to be at any events on the west coast this year? I'd love to meet you!

A. Sorry, not this year. Here is my schedule of signings for the rest of 2017.

Q. When did you know you wanted to be a writer, and how did you know?

A. Some days I still don’t know if I want to be a writer. The business part of publishing is exhausting, and it’s hard on my self-esteem to be constantly judged/critiqued. Yet, I still do it because the honor of sharing my art with the people who do love it still outweighs the bad days.

Q. Can I come to your house to learn how to make juice? 

A. Yes! I love to play in the kitchen. Friends are always welcome. 

Q. Which of your books was the hardest to write and which was the easiest to write?

A. Jack & Jill Series was hardest to write because it’s so complex, and I had to go to some really dark places to “get into character.” When Life Happened  has been the easiest to write. The story was in my head and the words flew onto the screen so fast my fingers had trouble keeping up.

Q. What will your next book be about? 

A. When Life Happened:

Q. I was wondering if you considered narrating your books yourself?

A. Nope. I don’t like my voice that well.

Q. What is your favorite type of character personality to write? Funny, quirky, alpha, underdog etc.

A. Funny and imperfect. 

Q. How do you come up with characters' names?

A. I used to pull them out of my ass (according to a friend) and now that friend names my characters. 

Q.  From the books you have written, which is your favorite? (if you have one)

A. Jack & Jill Series

Q. If you weren't a writer what would you be doing?

A.  Reading more and wondering why someone hasn’t written one of the stories in my head. I run my husband’s business and homeschool our youngest child. If I weren’t writing, I wouldn’t need anything else to do. 

Q. Would you like to write in any other genre?

A. Not right now. I love romance.

Q. What is your favorite book turned movie?

A. Eat, Pray, Love - Truthfully, I don't have a lot of "favorites." 

Q. What kind of books do you like to read? 

A. Good books. Genre doesn't matter, just take me on an addictive ride and make me feel things. 

List of books I recommend:

Q. Who is your favorite author?

A. I don't have one. 

Q. What is your favorite book? 

A. I don't have one. See the trend? No favorites. I hope it doesn't make me boring. I just love life, and favorites change with each breath. Lots of breaths, lots of favorites! 

Q. Is your name really, Julianne?

A. I'm Jule, pronounced Julie, and my middle name is Ann. 


Thanks for the questions! 

Jewel E. Ann (Jule Ann) 

Instant Gratification - What happened to Foreplay?

Guess who’s working her ass off for you this year? Me! That’s right. I’ve just announced my next book, When Life Happened, will release in June. It’s a romantic comedy with so much heart; I think this will make a lot of Re-read lists. SO MANY FEELS! 


I’m also working on Sleight of Hand, a collaboration with Kate Stewart. It’s an incredibly fun rom-com about an arranged marriage between a street performer and a Harvard student/erotic dancer. I have high hopes for this, but since I’m a bit OCD about … everything… we have not set a release date. I encourage everyone to send their condolences to Kate. I’m not the easiest person to work with!


Finally, we’re just two weeks away from the Chapter Premier of Transcend—a newsletter exclusive. I hope instant gratification hasn’t ruined all of my readers. Can you follow this story a little at a time? Or have you turned into a severe binger, incapable of waiting for anything? Throwing tantrums at the thought of commercials, and having complete meltdowns should you have to wait longer than 24 hours for your next fix?


Let’s all take a step back and enjoy the journey again. Remember what that was like? Remember when you used to look forward to something? I think it was back when we had face-to-face conversations, communicated with full words, and refrained from telling the whole world our every move. 


“OMG!!! LMFAO! I just trimmed my fingernails and it took me ten minutes to get a new roll of toilet paper started! Lol.” #SittingOnThePot2Long #MajorHemorrhoids” 


::checks every ten seconds for Likes and Comments:: And Shares? Fucking gold!!! You are quotable. Famous. A total rockstar! 


Speaking of rockstars and fame, did you check out my video in last week’s newsletter? If not, don’t worry. I’ll hook you up with a link. See? Instant gratification. Except those stupid YouTube advertisements. The ones that let you click the SKIP button after a few seconds are bearable—just—but the ads that you have to watch in their entirety? Gah!!! Who has twenty extra seconds in their day to deal with that shit when all we want is to watch the latest episode of Carpool Karaoke? ::cue tantrum:: 


Be kind. 


Be thoughtful. 


Be patient. 






I Know About More Than Sex

Happy New Year! </p><p>

I get a lot of email with questions from readers, so I’ve randomly picked some to answer. 


Q: Are you going to post more videos on The Jonesies Facebook page showcasing your talents? 

**(Hooping and tramping in 2016, but not at the same time.)

A: Yes. I have many talents beyond writing. 2017 might include yoga poses, a tutorial on making nut milk, and a live video of parking in Costco’s cart return to prevent door dings. 

Q: What is your favorite wine? 

A: Beer

Q: Do you get nervous at book signings? 

A: No. I wear platform shoes to boost my confidence. **Fly London

Q: Will Flint get a book, and if so, when?

A: Yes. When I write it. 

Q: How do you come up with your story ideas? 

A: I’m a social recluse who daydreams instead of interacting with other humans. 

Q: Are vegans taking over the world, and if so, is that a good thing? 

A: Yes. And the animals think so. 

Q: Favorite social media platform? 

A: Instagram because ranters have to post a picture before they can have the mic. 

Q: Who do you predict will win the Super Bowl? 

A: The team who scores the most points. 

Q: What do you love most about writing? 

A: Making people laugh. 

Q: Were these actual questions from readers? 

A: No. But if you smiled even once, I don’t regret the lie. 


Make someone’s day—every day. 

I'm off to Arizona for some time with friends and lots of word weaving. My only writing goal this year is to make you laugh. 



Jewel E. Ann

Step Away From The Circle And Nobody Gets Hurt

My best friend brought canned tuna almost every day for lunch when we were in school. The mean kids made fun of her AND me just by association. At the time, I didn’t understand what was up with the tuna. Maybe they were upset about the dolphins dying after getting caught in the nets. Maybe their parents were too cheap to splurge on seafood for them, and they were jealous. 

Maybe they knew the vulgar meaning of Tuna Town long before we did. Yeah, that was it. 

I’ve always been a mile outside of the circle. The last to know. The least likely to fit in. Yet—the most likely to Not. Give. A. Shit. 

Until … I began my writing journey. Self-publishing has made the world my vagina-smelling oyster. All I have to do is BE POPULAR!








RELATABLE. <— Oh. Fuck. I’m in trouble. 

I can suppress my un-relatable-ness (because that’s a real word) and write the same characters over and over because there’s a stereotype of the characters most readers love, OR I can write what’s inside me which is a cluster fuck of characters that are unique, daring, bold, crazy, and a mile outside of the circle. 



Maybe they make you laugh at their ridiculousness. 

Maybe they make you scream because they are stubborn to their own demise. 

Maybe they make you think about something in a way you never imagined. And maybe, just maybe that makes them memorable, endearing, admirable, commendable, and … lovable. 

Scarlet Stone is coming on December 10th and she is UNFORGETTABLE. 


Jewel,  Warrior of the Earth, Defender of the Herbivores, Least Likely to Be Homecoming Queen

**This blog is dedicated to everyone who started their period before their friends, thought blow jobs were how you dried your hands in public restrooms, and at the tender age of eight, found a condom in a moving box marked “toiletries” and tried to blow it up like a balloon but wondered why it was so wet.