Do forty and fifty-year-olds deserve love?

Tell us a little about Leap of Faith, released June 21. What is the genre? What is it about?

 'Leap of Faith' and is the first in my DUTY WITH HONOR series. It is a suspense/romance, about a couple of 'forty-something's that find love, with adventures on the way.

Is this completely out of imagination, or are there elements of your real life experience in the plot/characters?

Well, except for the rich and famous brother, and the handsome and even richer hero, it's about me - 100%.  ;-) There are a few elements of me in my heroine.; but she's pretty fabulous. Seriously, most of it is from my fevered imagination; with just a sprinkling of true elements from my life. The trick is for the readers to figure out which is which. Here's a hint:  I don't weigh 130 lbs.

How much of your personality and life experience is in your writing?

To a great extent, my heroine, Beth, exhibits many of my personality quirks; and unfortunately some of my life experiences.

Where do your ideas come from?

Does anyone really know that?  This came from my 'knee-jerk' reaction to a class writing assignment.  We were supposed to write about a twenty-year-old, walking through a park and stumbling on love.  At nearly fifty, I wondered why love seemed to be reserved for twenty-year-olds.  Forty and fifty year-olds deserve love too.  I kept thinking of that old line, "Love is wasted on the young.".  I also was re-evaluating my life, and wrote about what my fantasy life and love would be.

How long did it take you to write this book? Edit it?

I began the book(s) on May 1^st, 1999 and finished the first draft on September 15^th of that year.  Then life got in the way.  I went through a divorce, moved across the country and met a new man.  And, to my surprise, I discovered I didn't get anything really accomplished when I was happy.  Unfortunately, once more, life took care of that obstacle. After some assessing and revamping, another major move and a new man, I found a way to balance happiness and work.  I struggled in some writers' groups - where I learned that you can't make everyone happy. Along the way, I acquired that 'mandatory-for writers' rejection file.  Finally I found someone who liked my writing,  and turned out to be a born editor. He helped me finish the edits and revisions.

Why did you decide to write (insert genre and rating here)?

The truth is, I didn't actually decide anything - it just happened.  But, after I faced the realization to get a mammoth 260,000 + word book published was daunting, I broke it into four books.  They're all suspense/romances, but the ratings vary.  'Leap of Faith' is Sweet/Warm, but the next in the series, 'Second Chances', will have a higher rating.  After that, they'll be back to Sweet/Warm, at least until the fifth book, 'An Unexpected Pause', currently in the first draft stage.  So far, it's turning out to be steamy.

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Suspense is in Jordan Bollinger's Blood

Jordan, I am so excited to have you visiting today. Your new book just released. You must be on top of the world. Tell us about yourself.

I grew up reading classic mysteries and watching 'film noir'. All I wanted was to grab a hat and go on adventures with Phillip Marlow or Sam Spade. Mom and Dad were all right with my insistence on switching from French to Russian in high school, even if the counselor wasn't amused with my reason - I needed Russian, if I was going to be an international spy. They were even okay with teaching me to shoot. However, they frowned on me spending time in smoky bars with fast guys or shady characters.           

 I would guess, then, that suspense and mystery are in your blood - and in your book series.

By dreaming up my own adventures, I could live vicariously without the worry of being grounded. Those fantasy worlds led me to writing down all those stories swirling around in my head. So get ready world. Bollinger, Jordan Bollinger is here to sweep you off your heartstrings one bullet at a time. 

Buy Leap of Faith today at http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-309/Duty-with-Honor-Book/Detail.bokVisit her at her website at http://www.jordanbollinger.com/ and her blog Drawing on the Write Side of My Brain, at http://jordanbollinger.blogspot.com/

Future Releases by Jordan Bollinger at Desert Breeze Publishing

Duty With Honor Book Two: Second Chances - February 2013
Duty With Honor Book Three: Haunted Honeymoon - October 2013
Duty With Honor Book Four: Finessing the Wolf - June 2014
Duty With Honor Book Five: An Unexpected Pause - February 2015

New Release - Leap of Faith

Just before her thirteenth birthday, Beth Bennett discovered she was not only adopted, but had a father and a brother. Always the people-pleaser, she decided to split her time between her two families. After thirty years of juggling her life, the breakup of a disastrous twenty-year marriage and caring for her sister-in-law during her final bout with cancer, she retreats to her home in the Connecticut hills to regroup. Then she attends a charity banquet in NYC and meets a man who can't possibly be as perfect as he seems. he wants to pursue a relationship with her, but past experiences have made her swear off men and romance. Andrew Oliver doesn't give up easily, and when Beth finally admits to her feelings, she finds herself on an emotional roller-coaster ride -- remembering her past, living her present and facing her future with a self-reliance she'd forgotten she possessed.

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How I grew up...

 The house I grew up in was a standout in the neighborhood - big side yard, made of brick with a full basement and natural wood floors. We added a big window air conditioning unit when I was in gradeschool and by junior high I moved to the basement where it was cool in the summer, so we were always comfortable.

We lived in the small, safe town of Greenville, Illinois.  We played in the yards all over our block, and the three or four blocks of the friends we played with regularly. There was a great climbing tree - not in our back yard but in one that connected with ours through a big block of shurbbery. We hollowed that out to make our Hideout. We eventually put a tree house on the ground by our apple tree. We were imaginative - played the characters of TV shows and comic books - and frequently added a twist of a new power, a new character.

"We" almost always included my brother Michael, two years my junior. When the Roodhouses lived in the neighborhood it included Steve and Kathy - and when they moved to the country and got a horse, they included us in new adventures at their new place. That's Steve I am wrestling with above. 

Mostly I played with boys. Gary was at our house weekdays after school from third grade through sixth. Bobby spent most weekends with his grandparents two doors down.

Becky and Gwen were a year older and while we played a little I wasn't as much into dolls, so bored easily. I did enjoy Becky's dogs, though. You can see from the swimsuit picture how much more feminine they were. I am the girl on the right next to my brother.

We didn't have much luck with dogs at our house so I enjoyed Becky's. We had a German Shepherd that we ended up giving back to the breeder because we were all afraid of him and no one had time to train him, and we had another little dog named Tiny for a short time. He was my piano teacher's dog and she eventually took him back. In the meantime he was more Mom's. Didn't have much to do with the rest of us.

And Janet - we were the same age, and she went to our church so until she moved away in Jr. High we hung out together a lot. She is still a friend, as are many of the other Greenville Girls. Janet is on the right in black at the birthday party. My Dad had to go to our church camp a lot, in order to  get people registered and take care of other church/camp business.  He got lifejackets for Mike and me so we could swim and play at the lake the camp built, and later I learned also assigned someone to watch us. We spent may a day at camp in the summers. Mom was home with the next two children, so Dad took us off her hands when he could.

I will talk more about camp sometime this summer. I have included just the swimming picture for this time. Next time I will talk about my friend Deb - from 4th grade on - who lived 50 miles away which was huge in those days. I remember riding a bus to go see her during the school year. We wrote each other letters, which deepened our friendship because we both said things in writing we might never have said in person.

But in those days we were mostly camp friends. And we are still very much friends today. More another day on that.

To the Dads in My Life - Happy Father's Day

First of all I am grateful for my dad. He is one of those encouragers - always teaching, always giving opportunities for growth. From the time I was small he taught me the most interesting things - from how a darkroom works to all kinds of other scientific and historic things. He helped me get my first job, setting type for an offset press at the local print shop. His love of printing, layout, photography, newsletters, etc. can be seen in all the photographs he took and has since scanned and made digital much to the enjoyment of all of us.When Dad's office upgraded to a Selectric typewriter he made sure that I got the old electric, along with a typing text and a holder for handwritten notes. He showed me how to type my stories so that I could submit them to a publisher. Before I took typing in school (they didn't teach it until High School in those days) I was typing my stories to send to Straight Magazine. (Yes, that was really the name of it! A reference to living a life on the straight and narrow path.) My first was published when I was only 14 years old, a result of his pull in getting the editor to come to our church camp, and making sure we got to visit a local prison, and then encouraging all of us to write about it. The editor picked my story and had me add quotes from all the others. It was a wonderful first experience, and after that nine more stories were published by this Christian youth magazine before I graduated from High School. Many of them were written because either Dad or Mom encouraged me to "Write about that" or said "That would make a good story."

Both my parents have shared their faith and life encouragement daily. I will always be grateful for their direct Christian teaching, obersavations as we were  navigating our growing up years, and their continual example of a faithful life.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.

Next I am grateful for the man I married, a good Christian man, who is a wonderful father to our daughter Amanda. He learned from the example of his father. From the day he became of father he has been a great one, fun, encouraging, and also a teacher. As our daughter has grown and married she is still close to her dad (and mom) and is a delight to be with. I can't help but think she inherited some of that fun disposition from her father.

Her Dad performed the marriage ceremony for our daughter and her husband. As you can see in the first wedding photo, he wasn't certain he'd be able to hold it together to do the ceremony. Amanda leaned over and gave him a hug and he pulled it together and did a beautiful job. At the end of the day it was a joyous and fun day for everyone.

Happy Father's Day, John.

He learned from his Dad as well, another fine Christian who has set an example for his children and grandchildren and even great-grandchildren. Happy Father's Day, Jack.

And I would be remiss if I didn't mention my grandfathers. We are all part of the families we came from and carry their memories, their wisdom and the moments we were able to share with them in our hearts.

The Bath from Touched by Mercy by Tina Pinson

The sheriff pulled the note from the door when he returned from Hays the next day and looked at his watch. Noon. He frowned. He expected this to happen, he should have talked to the new owner already. Should have warned her the day Pete down at the grain elevator said the new owner was interested in chicken ranching.

"She asked about the best of laying hens and where to buy pens," Pete laughed and slapped his thigh.

Busy tracking down train robbers, the sheriff was just getting back, never finding the time to get over to Lil's old place.

The Chicken Ranch.

Sam's Boarding House, the sign read now. The eyesore had cleaned up nicely.

Ignoring the laughter around town, the sheriff checked his gun and went to see about the ruckus at Sam's. He didn't know what to do with the poor soul who'd come looking for Lil, had no idea at all.

The townsfolk followed him. They'd read the note and were curious to see the goings on.

"Howdy..." A boy opened the boardinghouse door, paused momentarily, and looked to the yard and the people meandering there before he swung his attention to the visitor at the door. When his gaze landed on the sheriff's badge, he grinned. "Sheriff? Sam done fixed the problem. We won't be needing you."

The sheriff couldn't hide his surprise. "If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to Sam just the same?"

The boy shrugged. "Hey, Sam, the sheriffs here."

"Have him take a seat in the parlor, Grimes, and come help me a minute," she yelled from the kitchen. The sheriff heard the back door open and swing shut.

The sheriff stopped at the front door and yelled at the accursed mob in the yard. "Nothing to see here. Go on home," he told them with a wave. A couple left; most stayed. Others were still coming. He shook his head and followed Grimes.

Grimes led him to the parlor and motioned to a chair. "Wait here," he said before he ran out the back of the room. Allan didn't wait. He followed. He stopped at the screen door to watch.

The townsfolk moved around the house to watch. They got a show for their trouble. The sheriff thought to try and run them off again, but knew it would do no good. Resigned, he joined the townsfolk and, leaning against the backdoor frame, observed the goings on.

One barefoot young woman dressed in a wet calico skirt, with her soaked shirt sleeves rolled, faced him. By the pensive look on her face, the disarray of her hair, and the pile of rags over her arm, she'd prepared for battle. Beside her stood an equally sodden little girl, her arms laden with towels.

The other woman, nearly swallowed by a pair of worn, baggy overalls, her flaming red hair in fiery disarray around her head, yelled orders to some poor man they'd captured behind the blankets. Her back to him, he had yet to see her face.

"You will scrub, Quentin, or I promise, I'll come in there myself and see that you do." Several of the ladies in the yard gasped. A loud grunt answered from behind the curtain. "Oh, wouldn't I? Grimes, you go on and see that he does as I said?" The redhead commanded. "There's a bucket of rinse water, Grimes. Go ahead and pour it on him."

The captive responded with a tormented howl, causing the sheriff to question whether their captive was human or not.

"Oh, don't be such a baby. It's your own fault. It was warm when we brought it out, but you fought too much," the blonde replied.

"Egads, this water's blacker then my last bath," Grimes declared. Guffaws and snorts erupted in the yard. "Hey, who's laughing?" Grimes demanded to know. Poking his head out the blankets, he took a look around and disappeared again.

Another grunt resounded; apparently the poor man in the tub wanted to know the answer to the same question.

"Never you mind," the redhead called back. The sheriff watched her take in the yard. From the frowns on the faces, he knew it wasn't a smile she graced the onlookers with. "Heaven's sakes." Shaking her head, she sent her waves of red flying. "Grimes, if we have to do it twice to get him clean, we will." To which the poor man behind the wall of blankets groaned. "Don't worry, Quentin, next time you can use the bath indoors."

"I can't believe Miss Lil would let someone in her house when they're so dirty," the blonde commented naively. The sheriff joined the townsfolk in a hearty laugh, alerting the blonde to the man in the kitchen. "Sam, there's a man in the kitchen," she whispered loudly.

"Oh, Sheriff, is that you?" Sam asked without turning.

"Huuuuh?" The bather groaned nervously.

"Hush, Quentin," Sam assured him. "You finish with your bath. I'll talk to him."

"Ahh," came the moan.


Sam turned to the blonde and dried on one of the towels in her arms. "Sheriff, the matter for which we left the note has been taken care of."

"That's right, Sheriff," Erin agreed solemnly. The little girl nodded her agreement.

"There, see." Sam flashed a quick glance to the door and turned back. "Grimes, check behind his ears."
The good people in the yard hooted and hollered.

"That's right, boy, get behind the ears," someone jested.

"Don't slap me," Grimes yelped. "She said to get 'em." Quentin growled. "Okay, you get 'em," Grimes added quickly. "I'll pour more water."


The howl that followed left the sheriff shivering where he stood.

"Erin, hand Grimes those towels. And you people, the show's over. Now, Sheriff." Sam turned and headed for the screened door. The sheriff eyed her with new interest. "As you can see we aren't in need of your services, unless of course, you'd like to round up all these trespassers," she yelled loud enough for the people in the yard to hear. She smiled when they backed outside her fence.

Sam turned for the screen. When she opened the door, she froze. "You?"

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NEW Excerpt from Tina Pinson's In The Manor of the Ghost

Devlin heard her before he saw her. She pounded the door, drumming with a precision that resounded through the manor. Then she began to yell and her voice -- because of her lung capacity, no doubt -- echoed the halls.

From the landing, he watched as Perkins allowed her in and led her to the study. He'd hoped to gauge the woman from a safe distance, but a heavy cape covered her head and body.

He spied Perkins and the housemaid, Marla, with their heads bowed in discussion. From the pointed looks in his direction, they discussed the woman and the plans he and Eliot concocted for her. Did they wonder why he was about to do something so idiotic? Did they hope the woman would agree to the plans and give him his just desserts? He never should have discussed his plans with them. They were unhappy. They would never voice it, but it was loud and clear in their frowns.

Unhappy people were a commonality in his world. Scathing diatribes about him and his holdings were commonplace in the county. Why not in his household? He would ignore it. Either that or fire them. And good helpers were hard to find -- no one, unless they were female and of a marrying age, cared to seek employment at Clayborne Manor. Or even visit these days.

He rather liked it that way.

Clearing his throat to make his presence known, he watched somberly as his butler and housemaid disappeared like mist. He berated himself for thinking the worst of them. They said nothing to warrant his mistrust. They'd been with him through worse times without recriminations. Why did he expect them now? Why did it matter? He was the master of his domain. They were hired help. He sighed heavily. Maybe the fact that they'd been with him, faithfully, for years was reason enough. Caring as he did, he desired to know their minds, which compelled him to share his plans in the first place. He would do it again.

Leaning against the handrail at the bottom of the grand staircase, he listened as the woman railed at his lawyer and friend, Eliot Dunlevy -- her brother-in-law -- with clarity and diction. The staff was relegated to the back of his mind.

"What are you doing here?" she growled. "Where is he, Eliot? Where is that monster?" Devlin doubted the raggedness of her breath was merely from the brisk walk to the manor.

"Kaitlin, what happened? The driver informed me you chose to walk in the rain. Why didn't you take the carriage? You could catch your death."

"Death of Cold. Ha. Yet, you expected me to ride in that coach from Hades? I could have caught worse!" She flung the wet cape off her arms. "I bet he borrowed it from his father."

"Kate, let's not go into that." Eliot sighed, pulled his kerchief and wiped his face. "You must be freezing. Let me help you out of that cape. You can stand by the fire. I'll call for the maid to bring you a cloth and water so you can freshen up."

Devlin awaited her next move. The young lady didn't disappoint him. She pumped her fist at Eliot.

"I don't care to stand by the fire or clean up. I have enough water on my person. I don't plan to stay long, Eliot. Just tell me where he is so I can give the man -- and I use that term loosely -- a piece of my mind."

Devlin moved closer and watched from the crook behind the open door as she flipped the cape over her left shoulder and threw a sodden, muddied paper to the desk.

"How dare he think he can make such a request and not be made to answer for it. Who does he think he is? God?"

"Now, Kate. Take a seat and calm down." Eliot threw up his hands then motioned her to a chair.

Devlin found Eliot's exasperation a rare treat. Rare indeed when he'd tried to shake the unflappable manner of his friend occasionally and failed. The slip of a woman had put him to shame. His lips twisted into a grin. She would do nicely.

"Kate, take a seat. Please," Eliot said more firmly. He drew a deep breath when she took her chair. "Mr. Clayborne will not be joining us."

Kaitlin came out of her chair. "Are you telling me that... are you saying he's demanded this drivel but he won't be here to account for it? Has he no backbone? Is that why the sniveling coward sent you?"

Devlin's brows furrowed. His lips pursed. A sniveling coward. A devil. A monster. His fists balled at his sides. Were it a man making these claims, but it wasn't. It was a woman, a mouthy, stubborn woman.
"As his lawyer, I'm here on his behalf."

"So, you're going to stand back and watch while your employer -- blackguard that he is -- rapes the community?" She slammed the desk, and the dull thud reverberated through the room. "How could you? His demands are immoral. Don't you care about those poor children and young women the home is supposed to shelter from ingrates like him? Have you no regard for their well being?"

Eliot's sighs grew wearier. "He's not a blackguard nor is he raping the community. He's not going to harm the home or those housed in it. It's a simple business deal."

"Is that what you call it?" Kaitlin snapped. Eliot shook his head. "A simple business deal?" Kaitlin sniffed. "Ha. It's rape, pure and simple. Those poor women at the home told me all about his past deals. They say he threatens to withhold funds if he doesn't get his way. Now he's withholding funds because he wants some poor girl to be his... his... What's the matter can't the old geezer get what he wants at a brothel? I could strangle the old buzzard."

Blackguard. Old geezer. Old buzzard. Indeed! Devlin's frown intensified. This was too much. He'd celebrated his twenty-eighth birthday, hadn't lost his teeth and he'd never set foot in a house of ill repute. He wanted to march in and set the young lady straight. As a lawyer, he could deal with the legalities himself, but Eliot bade him not to show. He would have to confront her once they married. If they married. It didn't seem like such a good idea now. With his sigh he sounded rather like Eliot.

"Katie, I don't know what you're talking about. Where have you gotten such gross, and might I add, asinine, misconceptions concerning the reputation of my client?"

"I've heard them from near everyone in town."
More so from Greta, Devlin figured, but doubted she'd divulge that.
"If a whole town has misconceptions they can't all be wrong? Your client has a sorry reputation," Kate went on to say.


"His reputation is of the highest standard. I doubt the whole town maligned it. Sounds like Greta to me."

She sniffed. Devlin wanted to tell her a thing or two about Greta, but he stayed quiet and let Eliot deal with his sister-in-law.

"But, let's not go into that. Did you even read the letter?" Eliot asked. He twisted the gold chain on his fob as though he already knew the answer.

Devlin had his own suspicions.

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