tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3734804567350676652024-03-27T23:47:03.596-06:00My Words Are My VoiceOfficial Blog of Author Desiree DeOrto. Join her in her journey from writer to published author.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.comBlogger114125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-77516951309864368352016-11-15T04:33:00.002-07:002016-11-15T04:33:22.856-07:00Mine Forever Cover Reveal by Kate Bonham!<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">COVER REVEAL</span></h2>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6u4PpAHspem8DJLo_s9ogUC-iOJhQBBXjNDyeLcoc63mewQYszhcBip3Uk1-ZmtrlLy_8Q1hFPhd1qLow3T89oPwNbz1c2jLbKjLHc30KbFkk5i-FowjZu2tpDQhMMMYNAEK5c3GO_XA/s1600/Kate.Bonham.Mine.Forever.eBook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6u4PpAHspem8DJLo_s9ogUC-iOJhQBBXjNDyeLcoc63mewQYszhcBip3Uk1-ZmtrlLy_8Q1hFPhd1qLow3T89oPwNbz1c2jLbKjLHc30KbFkk5i-FowjZu2tpDQhMMMYNAEK5c3GO_XA/s400/Kate.Bonham.Mine.Forever.eBook.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Mine, Forever</h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
(Deadly Women, Book One)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Author: Kate Bonham</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Book One</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Cover Designer: Desiree DeOrto</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Edited by: Swish Editing & Design </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Genre: Dark Romance</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Release: 16 December 2016</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b>BLURB</b></h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">JETT</span></div>
<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: start;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">She's mine.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Ever since I first laid eyes on her, I knew there was something about her but I had to be sure.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I had to know she was like me.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Now, after what I've put her through, I own her.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">But they keep trying to pull her away from me.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">They keep trying to destroy my world forcing me to unleash hell on earth to keep her in my arms.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: start;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">EBONY</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: start;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I’m broken, alone and hated by my own family. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">When Jett Black walks into my life, I know I'm not safe.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Not safe from him, not safe from anyone and yet I can't get enough of him.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">He's my savior in every way, shape and form. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Finally, after years I felt as if I was on the right path until forces try to tear us apart – forces which are trying to kill me. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: start;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">But I won’t give him up – he’s mine...forever. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqCd_lgo9ruxVTPVqhthtA73nTv2KY_agjyri0pP2CAKRx7sQ6BaZLypRT1AhyPg5n8AQv2TdWgNxcqhQVQUTDmocnk8TD3dnhk9q7OVQ6833F3_fNAwPBjNNYeXLQWfI6WDiuB68qO8/s1600/Broken+Mess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqCd_lgo9ruxVTPVqhthtA73nTv2KY_agjyri0pP2CAKRx7sQ6BaZLypRT1AhyPg5n8AQv2TdWgNxcqhQVQUTDmocnk8TD3dnhk9q7OVQ6833F3_fNAwPBjNNYeXLQWfI6WDiuB68qO8/s320/Broken+Mess.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8KVjFzqDrJ5Z107Fp0UpmzN0n19cdCkfpUHCOd0xo_fbjkVao1FURQ8JEzyLGX8KKJw9uP424-saFCH90uUckdfWvPxozKBtdJS3g7yYh4dbM75E6McXOgAMYx0NR4Xy1yPEKtZGyyVU/s1600/Broken+Princess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8KVjFzqDrJ5Z107Fp0UpmzN0n19cdCkfpUHCOd0xo_fbjkVao1FURQ8JEzyLGX8KKJw9uP424-saFCH90uUckdfWvPxozKBtdJS3g7yYh4dbM75E6McXOgAMYx0NR4Xy1yPEKtZGyyVU/s320/Broken+Princess.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ThpYGHGDbl-E0WS_bL6j6Ai8sR0C5_B8CL_asFUcLlM2aLMG7kLyNBJT9z74AMVOtdvYZbzJC2Ji26fOsthzukPvGNKTJqQ3RaaWVj4aaQfu7sxXFdDXYIV7-Gy07i4BK9yNKpuUlWE/s1600/Don%2527t+lose+that+fire%252C+dollface.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ThpYGHGDbl-E0WS_bL6j6Ai8sR0C5_B8CL_asFUcLlM2aLMG7kLyNBJT9z74AMVOtdvYZbzJC2Ji26fOsthzukPvGNKTJqQ3RaaWVj4aaQfu7sxXFdDXYIV7-Gy07i4BK9yNKpuUlWE/s320/Don%2527t+lose+that+fire%252C+dollface.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWtD_lOM949Vcch7R0u8PPNpOaT8bDbOBkwWazp6c3BVjIW6YoKygen7kGfn6CPKlBXVCvLkgGS90UOCzF6EobSeHdIq-C_i-yetblP-LvwHI9e7w4z_FRaiNH_O2SRXK6zpL-olAXqyw/s1600/No+Soul.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWtD_lOM949Vcch7R0u8PPNpOaT8bDbOBkwWazp6c3BVjIW6YoKygen7kGfn6CPKlBXVCvLkgGS90UOCzF6EobSeHdIq-C_i-yetblP-LvwHI9e7w4z_FRaiNH_O2SRXK6zpL-olAXqyw/s320/No+Soul.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfhNDtRawxeg483NT7wna5yJkhPV6ZF9uyl4CwJeAZvsaUd-A7fUGodXmzf0NW9jVnsJfEZ1NMPdMXg8I9cTY7RRvnmuEE-JWUuV1PpPZxrm29ndS12WgynI5yP1REKDZqndrJwKPD1I/s1600/You+came+for+me+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfhNDtRawxeg483NT7wna5yJkhPV6ZF9uyl4CwJeAZvsaUd-A7fUGodXmzf0NW9jVnsJfEZ1NMPdMXg8I9cTY7RRvnmuEE-JWUuV1PpPZxrm29ndS12WgynI5yP1REKDZqndrJwKPD1I/s320/You+came+for+me+.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeEzP3ZFGMcGR1vu896TG55HUCNCatP5BQKwyMghY6zIIpyr71sVEY3UaNq2q8cH4Ss90XNcHF4uETh2APRUeEq-dBHEyTYAO-dvKYUqv4jVGtH8V9w_1lM3TjxRDucOYkshd2t1fT7Uk/s1600/You+can+never+leave+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeEzP3ZFGMcGR1vu896TG55HUCNCatP5BQKwyMghY6zIIpyr71sVEY3UaNq2q8cH4Ss90XNcHF4uETh2APRUeEq-dBHEyTYAO-dvKYUqv4jVGtH8V9w_1lM3TjxRDucOYkshd2t1fT7Uk/s320/You+can+never+leave+me.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Add to Goodreads TBR: <a href="https://goo.gl/Z0UKKJ" target="_blank">https://goo.gl/Z0UKKJ</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://goo.gl/SLDITt" target="_blank">Pre-Order for 99c!</a></span></h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
(Kindle Only for now)</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDLhC8qj_tK1csh3NsN_2dT4FaZhn21i5gRxN4Czis3zleWZr7-wmA9Asp5AVPR6Pj2akt8R9IvbL-rSBb8ZsXgEluFARP2S8PZsnLujp0HjC9DweNU6rjrGtiU8bWPjsjcEj9VCqFRTk/s1600/Kate.Bonham.Mine.Forever.Print.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDLhC8qj_tK1csh3NsN_2dT4FaZhn21i5gRxN4Czis3zleWZr7-wmA9Asp5AVPR6Pj2akt8R9IvbL-rSBb8ZsXgEluFARP2S8PZsnLujp0HjC9DweNU6rjrGtiU8bWPjsjcEj9VCqFRTk/s320/Kate.Bonham.Mine.Forever.Print.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
AUTHOR BIO</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSHoVZ4pHoL095ANstigKQCXM5ejtBnT7C86NjHiPzhRZfGAKx2T9dGZhiPaS3gHajv3UPylHHlmEbFjn0ASbenE5AbN6KFT_g7SZLmOJv-5ggpEO4_Vl2uMDYKC0xkeVP_jo9tH13qb0/s1600/Kate+Bonham++Bloody+hand+initials.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSHoVZ4pHoL095ANstigKQCXM5ejtBnT7C86NjHiPzhRZfGAKx2T9dGZhiPaS3gHajv3UPylHHlmEbFjn0ASbenE5AbN6KFT_g7SZLmOJv-5ggpEO4_Vl2uMDYKC0xkeVP_jo9tH13qb0/s200/Kate+Bonham++Bloody+hand+initials.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Kate grew up in Western Sydney, Australia, hoping to one day have a pet dragon and castle to roam around in. Then the Khaleesi stole her life and she was forced to reinvent herself. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #111111; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: start;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">It was around the age of 15 when she really thought she could make it as a writer, and after course after course on different writing styles, she finally gulped down her fear and pursued independent publishing. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #111111; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: start;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">When she's not writing, she's spending time with her boyfriend and their zoo of pets that include snakes, spiders, lizards, gecko, an axolotl and a bird. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #111111; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: start;" /></div>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Contact Kate</span></h2>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.facebook.com/AuthorKateBonham" target="_blank">Facebook Author Page</a> | <a href="http://www.instagram.com/kbonhamauthor" target="_blank">Instagram</a> | <a href="http://www.twitter.com/kbonhamauthor" target="_blank">Twitter </a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: blue;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/katebonhamauthor/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Facebook Fan Group</span></a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/k8skhaleesis/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Facebook Street Team</span></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/author/katebonham" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Amazon Page</span></a> | <span style="color: blue;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13436846.Kate_Bonham" target="_blank">Goodreads Author Page</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkyDtkAGMvqo-hBlA41GeP0gU7kM9B3TFEiMWbLHTHQyTYErdeiFGNXGFseMLMv_waggFNtdUyq1qkrWvZX_uT-fewSprmd1kYjPbZNhhgQNOIOAQZBZrzrtUn3A7PNtlC95q2G8MN8GU/s1600/Kate+Bonham+Bloody+Hand+Logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkyDtkAGMvqo-hBlA41GeP0gU7kM9B3TFEiMWbLHTHQyTYErdeiFGNXGFseMLMv_waggFNtdUyq1qkrWvZX_uT-fewSprmd1kYjPbZNhhgQNOIOAQZBZrzrtUn3A7PNtlC95q2G8MN8GU/s320/Kate+Bonham+Bloody+Hand+Logo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-32967475463555085252015-11-21T09:43:00.002-07:002015-11-21T09:43:53.242-07:00Mom Life: Episode Two<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>FIVE STAGES OF BAD MORNINGS</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjqd2tUSTP1X7_tpg7BccVl9_kFeqwkKzDF18A1ZFYc9ZM1P4-7fzFxpBJ1DH7EAsHDkuuhtP3bZp7-_P6-uOISDaBELgSbeucWMQfTIZ6gPJgi6NtTTWyXI3JVb27wtS85hjAMykZL4Xs/s1600/coffeeordeathpatch01_1024x1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjqd2tUSTP1X7_tpg7BccVl9_kFeqwkKzDF18A1ZFYc9ZM1P4-7fzFxpBJ1DH7EAsHDkuuhtP3bZp7-_P6-uOISDaBELgSbeucWMQfTIZ6gPJgi6NtTTWyXI3JVb27wtS85hjAMykZL4Xs/s400/coffeeordeathpatch01_1024x1024.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My children have somehow forgotten that today is Saturday, and as such they should have slept in, thus allowing me to sleep in. At the same time, I have forgotten that I do, in fact, have four children who do not follow the 'Saturday-sleep-in' rule, and stayed up until three in the morning devouring the book Dirty English by Ilsa Madden-Mills (ah-ma-zing book. Read it. I haven't been forced to finish a book in one sitting just by its pure awesomeness in a long, long time). So needless to say this morning was 'fun'. And by fun I mean I'm surprised my children are still alive.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>If you're going to sneak, don't argue while doing it.</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><div style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And thus began my morning, bright and early at 8am, a mere four hours since I passed out from reader-ly bliss (it takes me a bit to fall asleep). Now normally the lack of sleep wouldn't have bothered me. I run three businesses from home while somehow managing to not go all homicidal on the entire planet, so lack of sleep is the norm for me. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Normally</i> I would have just crawled out of bed and waved my children away while staring at my coffee pot as it tortures me with its slow brewing.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Normally</i> my kids would just bounce around me and argue a bit, before staring with zombie-eyed intensity at Word World or whatever cartoon I'd happen to put on to get them out of my a**.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This morning was not normal.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Why? Because my oldest two decided that they'd wake up quietly, sneak into the kitchen to grab the tablet, and proceed to play. That wouldn't have been an issue if it wasn't for the fact that, for some reason, they decided that the minute they got on it they'd proceed to then start screaming at each other.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>*que bleary-eyed mom rage*</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I immediately began going through the <i>five stages of grief</i> when my eyes shot open, blood shot and hurting. A tick beginning in my eye as their harrowing screeches jump-started my nerve endings.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Nothing induces rage more than shrieking, howling children.</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Stage One</b>: I stared at the ceiling in disbelief. They seriously couldn't be screaming while trying to sneak. Surely not.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Stage Two</b>: Then, the anger emerged. Why couldn't they just let me sleep? WHY couldn't I have just had normal, sweet children that delusional parents always brag about? Those children that have no issues what-so-ever and have a halo perpetually attatched to their heads? I hated them, and myself as I pulled the blanket over my head and yelled at them to be quiet.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Stage Three</b>: That worked for a total of five minutes. When they picked right back up, the bargaining set in. I may or may not have promised ice cream for breakfast if they let me sleep for another twenty minutes. I may or may not have started making promises to all Gods and Goddesses that I had ever heard of if they just made my heathens magically go back to sleep.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>The deities have failed me yet again.</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Stage Four</b>: When the horrific realization hit me that I would actually have to get up, I felt my soul shrivel in my chest. The youngest two had jumped out of bed at all the ruckus and were adding to the exceedingly loudening noise. This was it. This was how I was going to die, for surely a brain aneurysm would occur from the lack of sleep mixed in with the baleful, haunting, spine-chilling noises emerging from the spawns of Satan. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Stage Five</b>: I welcomed it, admitting my defeat as I stumbled from my bed, heading straight for the coffee pot for the nectar of the Gods, knowing that there was no going back now...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Only I didn't make it that far. It's now going on 11:30, and I have YET to taste that divine, glorious liquid. Why, you may ask?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Because my children are spawns of Satan, of course.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
For the next three hours, my house sounded like this:</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Put your underwear on!"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Damn it, toys do NOT go into the toilet!"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"I don't care if she smells like ham! You can't hog the couch all to yourself!"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"No, you cannot play on the tablet. If you ask again I'm going to burn it!"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"WHERE IS YOUR UNDERWEAR?"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"I don't CARE if he didn't want you to play your game! We're NOT going to ship them off to the circus!"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Why is there cheese in a damn boot?"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"GO PUT ON YOUR UNDERWEAR!!!"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Even as I'm sitting here now, writing this all out for everyone's amusement and my utter pain, they're <b>still</b> going at it. Harley has taken it upon herself to defy her own awkward center of gravity by trying to flip from the coffee table to the couch (and failing epically. She just kind of flops back onto the couch and has yet to heed my warning that she'll eventually get hurt). Demetry is yelling at Lexia to get away from the TV, then running up to me and saying he wants to play on the tablet (having <i>just</i> forgotten for the 30th time this morning that they're grounded from it). Lexia is standing there in front of the TV, naked <i>yet</i> again and when asked where her underwear is she tells me 'panties not hoooome' while Jace is currently taking ALL of his big car toys and parking them right under my desk chair.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Coffee has yet to be brewed.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I don't know how the rest of the day will proceed. I don't know if whatever bug that got up my children's a** will go away and leave in its place those mythical halo beings, or if it will gradually get worse. All I know for sure is that I'll need coffee to survive it, and heaven help everyone if I don't get that elixir of life.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-78527163378997287772015-11-17T09:19:00.004-07:002015-11-17T09:21:14.473-07:00Mom Life: Episode One<div style="text-align: left;">
I wear many hats when it comes to life. I'm an author, graphic designer, PA, artist, but most importantly I'm a single mother of four.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
As a single mom I know first hand the stress of managing four kids all seven years of age and under. As a SAHWM (stay at home working mom), I also know first hand the insanity that is trying to run multiple businesses while the youngest two are at home with me all. the. time. And it is insanity. Utterly complete insanity with no end in sight, but it's also a sh*t ton of fun.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>My children are adorable spawns of Satan.</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeniaTreb6SfnXpQECDEIrYYhBdjaHz2S6pwzJ_jaYpIbDPl8NVKYkX1Dsri82O0hNjqxT00OTk_2BwhWXSlIc8kxfytTifQZ9azpeJsPkc3kN9qbjoZmF1Lvp_wElszikHpxsZIoidHJV/s1600/Evil%252Bbaby_0852f3_4384728.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeniaTreb6SfnXpQECDEIrYYhBdjaHz2S6pwzJ_jaYpIbDPl8NVKYkX1Dsri82O0hNjqxT00OTk_2BwhWXSlIc8kxfytTifQZ9azpeJsPkc3kN9qbjoZmF1Lvp_wElszikHpxsZIoidHJV/s400/Evil%252Bbaby_0852f3_4384728.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b></b></div>
<a name='more'></a><b><br /></b>
<div style="text-align: left;">
That *gestures above* is the truth. My kids are adorable (yes, I'm biased). They're also incredibly intelligent (again, I'm biased), talented (woot! There I go being biased again), and sweet <b>when they choose to be.</b> And that, my dears, is also the truth.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Don't get me wrong, I'd never change them for the world.... Okay, I'd change the fact that they're too independent and stubborn, and maybe throw in a dash of minion-ess just so I would feel like I wasn't going to pull my hair out half the time. Because it does feel like that. Parenting is HARD. It's stressful, irritating and a whole mess of other synonym's for 'omg I'm going to scream if you ask the same question <b>ONE </b>more time!'</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And that's the basis of parenting. Of all of it. BUT, there's a bright side, and that's what I want to share with you.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In between the madness and constant cleaning and 'did you REALLY just take a sh*t on the floor?!?' there's the sweet moments, and the utter moments of hilarity.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here's an example:</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My oldest (Harley) is seven. As such she has a small list of responsibilities that she has to complete: i.e. chores.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Now don't get me wrong, I don't slam her with a list of things she has to do while I just sit around and watch her. Her chores (as well as the other three) go along the lines of: you make a mess, you clean it up. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Normally</b> that wouldn't be a big deal, until you take into account that not only is she a spawn of Satan when it comes to actually <i>doing</i> anything I ask of her, but that she's also a mini-me, which means that she's extremely dramatic and argumentative (Hey, we can't all be perfect, and I take full responsibility for all aspects of her awesomeness).</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So lets break down how almost <b>every</b> cleaning conversation that her and I have goes.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Me: </b>Harley, the living room is a mess. It's time to clean up.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Harley:</b> (looks at me like this)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBmI0bHc5z8xMhPASt1M3JOYFavLr2a53WP8L6OXMjRDiHRjt_YM_a2UR7Yq7C1KOaI4QWXHS_yu640G__y6roqfPXNy1elKVpeogtFmSdGZjOgZewbLXK37A2GdsNlReNthgJ2-eynU_4/s1600/ss2246543_-_photograph_of_james_stewart_as_det_john_scottie_ferguson_from_vertigo_available_in_4_sizes_framed_or_unframed_buy_now_at_starstills__00917_zoom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBmI0bHc5z8xMhPASt1M3JOYFavLr2a53WP8L6OXMjRDiHRjt_YM_a2UR7Yq7C1KOaI4QWXHS_yu640G__y6roqfPXNy1elKVpeogtFmSdGZjOgZewbLXK37A2GdsNlReNthgJ2-eynU_4/s320/ss2246543_-_photograph_of_james_stewart_as_det_john_scottie_ferguson_from_vertigo_available_in_4_sizes_framed_or_unframed_buy_now_at_starstills__00917_zoom.jpg" width="255" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Then proceeds to pout and to tell me: 'I don't feel good.'</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>Me</b>: Too bad. I don't feel good either, but there's still things that need to be done.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>Harley</b>: *rolls eyes* (yes, my seven year old has mastered the art of eye rolling). Mommy, I really don't feel good. My legs hurt and my tummy hurts.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>Me</b>: It's amazing that your legs always seem to hurt whenever you have to clean.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>Harley</b>: It's amazing that you haven't figured out that if I didn't have to clean my legs wouldn't hurt (Yes, she has also achieved a level of sarcasm to equal mine. Parenting done right!).</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Now at this point I'm about to lose it. It wouldn't be so bad if the youngest of the four (Lexia) hadn't just pulled off her panties and taken a sh*t on the floor and was then proceeding to scream about it while the oldest one up from her (Jace) was trying to drive his car through said sh*t. (<i>See</i>? Fun.)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
But Harley, being the smart little cookie that she is noticed that I'm about to completely lose my sh*t over the sh*t and her being stubborn (on top of the two hours worth of temper tantrums prior from her brother (Demetry) over doing his homework. But that, my dears, is another story). So she decides, instead of infuriating me further, to stomp her way into the bedroom, grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil along the way.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Now I <b>KNOW</b> that I'm on the verge of losing it, so I take my own grumpy butt outside for a 'mommy-time-out' session (they work wonders when you're starting to feel homicidal toward spawns of Satan). After a few minutes of meditating and reminding myself that I really <i>DO</i> love the kids and don't really want to see their demise I head back in to find my daughter waiting for me, arms crossed and a frown on her face. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Without a word, she hands me this: </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWbZjjCU0MgprWvmBu7oqW-3bhQdFRwGlvdxUxnZJqvBa3kU-Mh7_Ny4_hk0PwojlojxkwWk4j-QUdDRRTacjc7nPNWCDcjCdkYWoC_5iSoxT-54B34JvfMyk16paUs66YIxHCtOkmuEGu/s1600/10515241_10153144277520718_1507367750671520041_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWbZjjCU0MgprWvmBu7oqW-3bhQdFRwGlvdxUxnZJqvBa3kU-Mh7_Ny4_hk0PwojlojxkwWk4j-QUdDRRTacjc7nPNWCDcjCdkYWoC_5iSoxT-54B34JvfMyk16paUs66YIxHCtOkmuEGu/s640/10515241_10153144277520718_1507367750671520041_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><b>For those non-parents out there who haven't developed the art of reading a child's writing and improper English, here is what it says:</b></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px; text-align: center;">
<i>'Dear Mommy,</i></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px; text-align: center;">
<i>I can not handle cleaning places that you tell me to do just to be away from Lexia and Jace and Demetry and I can not find something to do if I do not be away from them I will not clean up and I am telling you I am sorry not out loud because I think that I look funny cause last year daddy videotaped me on the phone and that is why.'</i></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px; text-align: left;">
*insert moment of hilarity*</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px; text-align: left;">
I spend the next five minutes dying of laughter. It's the first 'real' note she had ever written me, and the basis of her rebellion is because she hates her siblings (seriously, she does. Asks me every day to either kill them or send them to join the circus). To me, it's hilarious, and I'm keeping that letter forever. *que instant happy mommy*</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px; text-align: left;">
At the end of it all she did complete her chores, along with the other three after many threats and arguments. True things didn't <i>stay</i> clean, but that's just how life goes.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px; text-align: left;">
So they are adorable little spawns of Satan, but they're mine and I love them. In the end that's all that matters.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px; text-align: left;">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipHa4atCwixVPPZrB6o96gmlNiUeUKjYUQ08gDmM6inuIBFGCTukYa4n2zwWkDN0Euel64rCn2ePgjeqDL44qqvZG0ncB5eAKO8HHKXH4KgDm_jaO1HR4u6KeJrSZXvCaqdmAp2eLfTAtM/s1600/10155962_10152844100785718_2106504554991249506_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipHa4atCwixVPPZrB6o96gmlNiUeUKjYUQ08gDmM6inuIBFGCTukYa4n2zwWkDN0Euel64rCn2ePgjeqDL44qqvZG0ncB5eAKO8HHKXH4KgDm_jaO1HR4u6KeJrSZXvCaqdmAp2eLfTAtM/s640/10155962_10152844100785718_2106504554991249506_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-77052199053846897872015-09-15T08:59:00.000-06:002015-09-15T08:59:07.572-06:00Embracing The Darkness: The Truth Behind My Dark DepressionIt becomes hard to speak. When your mind rebels against you, making you feel unsafe within your own body, the ability to cry out becomes smothered by darkness. And it is darkness, a complete void of any light, happiness, or hope, to where your mere existence (if you can even call it that) brings you more pain than any evil you may have faced in the world.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
This past weekend I was consumed by it. Maybe it was because for the first time in a long time I didn't have my kids for the entire weekend. Maybe it was because of the ever present deadlines, the fear of not meeting everyone's standards, or the myriad of obstacles and emotional strain that I have been battling for months, and some even years. But this past weekend, I was terrified. I was terrified because I had come so close to doing something I promised myself I would never do again. I was petrified that I wouldn't be able to STOP my shaking hand as it pressed the blade to my skin. I was afraid, because for the first time since I was seventeen I didn't think I had the strength within me to stop myself.<br />
<br />
And the sad truth about all of this is: I'm not alone in the struggle.<br />
<br />
Every day thousands of people are plagued by their demons. Putting on a facade of happiness and pretending that everything is okay, because who would want to hear the truth? Who would want to actually sit and LISTEN. Not to tell you that it's all in your mind (because logically, we KNOW that) or that you just need to get over it and quit being a drama queen.<br />
<br />
If it was so easy to 'get over', then why do 105 people die of suicide a day. In ONE day, 105 lives are lost, because they couldn't 'get over it'. I was one of those people. Eleven years ago, I succeeded in killing myself, and I was brought back. I had thought (and still do when my mind is my own and not immersed in the darkness) that there's a reason for that. That maybe I DO have a reason for existence.<br />
<br />
But that's not always the case.<br />
<br />
For those of you who have been touched by grace to never go through depression or anxiety or any other psychological issue, allow me to tell you what it's like. To SHOW you through my words, my pain, and my experience what it's like to fight every day just to survive yourself.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
It's all-consuming, but it doesn't start out that way.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When you're mind is free, its like a high. You feel energetic, optimistic. When you smile it isn't forced, because its real. For ONCE you don't have to fake happiness, you exude it and everyone around you is cascaded in your light. Because you don't just want that light, you want to share it.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You want to share with the world your joy, to encourage and inspire people. To lead them to their own happiness, their own hope, and to give them strength when you don't know how long yours will last.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Then one thing happens, or a combination of things.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It doesn't have to be something drastic like losing your job or having a family member die. It can be something simple. Something mundane that your mind takes control of and you begin to feel yourself fading into the black. And the fun part of all of it is that the slight doesn't even have to be REAL. It can be a miscommunication, seemingly harmless. But then your mind takes over, and the doubts set in.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So you sit there, your smile fading from the purity that it was, but you still force one.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You force your smile as your heart begins to sink and the doubts creep in. Sometimes we can work through them, can rise above the beginning thoughts and move on. But sometimes, sometimes there is no escape.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You're useless.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Pathetic.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Why are you even alive? You don't deserve to live.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The kids would be better off without you. You know you're worthless and that you'll only fail them.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You cause everyone misery. It would be better just to end it all.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Why do you TRY? You can't do it. You can't do anything.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Those are just examples of the thoughts that my mind becomes plagued with when I can't overcome the beginning. Sometimes its a slow build up, each thought and self doubt slowly working its way into your system.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But sometimes, like this weekend and seventeen years ago, its an onslaught. There's no build up, no prelude to any of it. Your mind hits you with it, and it blocks out all other things.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So you shut down. You can't even force a smile, and everything that used to bring you joy becomes meaningless. YOU become meaningless as your own mind and the darkness that you live side-by-side with every day tears into your soul, destroying everything within you until you become a shell of the person you were mere moments, days, or weeks ago.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There's no escape. That's what people don't realize.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You can't just snap yourself out of the thoughts. Laugh them off and say 'yeah right, I'm awesome' because you don't FEEL it.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You become your own enemy, and there's no one on EARTH who could hurt you as much as your own mind does. No one in the universe who could ever say or do anything as cruel to you as your own mind does to itself.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So you break. You fall apart even while you're trying so hard to keep yourself together. To hold the pieces long enough to get through it, so you can somehow salvage what's left of you. Sometimes, you hold out. You fight your own mind long enough that it slowly releases you from its cruel embrace. Sometimes, a light shines through the darkness, and like a life-line you cling to that single flair of brilliance, hoping against everything within you that's hurting you, damaging you that it will be enough.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sometimes, it works.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sometimes, it doesn't.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You fight, and you fight and you fight.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Every day, every hour, every minute that your mind takes control you fight until you can't fight anymore. But then, you find something that gives you just enough strength to fight some more.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That has happened to me for the past 11 years.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Somehow, I have found the strength to keep fighting, to keep BELIEVING that things will be better even when I didn't see it. When I didn't have a light against the darkness, there was always something deep within me that refused to quit.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This past weekend, I came too close to losing that fight. Too close to just giving in to the darkness and finally finding peace within it.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The edge of a blade never called so sweetly.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The darkness that derives from the end never seemed so peaceful.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>If God has any grace left to give, may he bestow it to me now for I cannot hold out any longer.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Forgive me.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That's what I wrote to my children's father as my hands shook upon the handle of the blade.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That's how close I came to the end. How close I came to losing the eternal fight that I live with every moment of every day.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That's what it's like to fight for your life, from an enemy greater than you self: your mind.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Maybe God did have some grace left to spare, or maybe there was just a kernel of hope buried somewhere within me. All I know is that I'm still here. The dredges of the depression are still clinging to me with greedy claws, and I feel like I'm on the precipice of either tipping back into the darkness, or falling once again into the light.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But all I know is that I'm thankful.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm thankful that for whatever reason I'm still here.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm thankful I get to have another day, another moment being driven crazy by my kids.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm thankful for having this moment, to be able to share with you my story, and to let you know that you're not alone.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Those who have embraced their darkness, I stand beside you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I stand beside you in the fight even when you feel like you're alone in the world and no one can understand. Because I do.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I understand what it's like to be your own worse enemy.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I understand what it's like to fall into the darkness, and lose all hope.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I understand what it's like to be afraid of yourself and your own mind, and I understand what it's like to become completely void of all feeling when the aftermath arises.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So what was the purpose of me breaking through the silence and telling you my story?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The purpose is simple: to bring hope.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Hope is the one thing that is the hardest to come by. I'm not going to sit here and tell you to 'get over it'. I'm not going to sit here and berate you for opening up because people 'don't need that drama in their lives'.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm here to tell you that you are not alone. That there is NO shame in any of this. You are not broken. You are not somehow less of a person because you suffer through the fight every day.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You are powerful, and you can keep winning the fight.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
For those of you who don't understand depression, maybe now you have gleamed some insight.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I hope beyond hope that this has effected you to the point where you won't turn anyone away who needs you. Because if someone reaches out to you, they trust you enough to bare their darkness too. You have the ability to either send them over the brink, or pull them into the light.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
You're never 'too busy' to save someones life.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
People should never 'have too much going on' in their own lives to listen to those who cry out to you, whether you want to hear their plea or not.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
CHOOSE to be the hope.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Whether you're fighting alongside me and the millions of others, or if you're just on the sideline willing to lend a hand to those in need.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
BE someones hope. Show kindness, and maybe one day there won't be a statistic, someone you KNOW won't be a statistic because there will be enough people lighting candles in the darkness to help pull us free from even the worst of the darkness.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
With Love, Always,</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Your Confetti Queen.</div>
<br />
<br />
(For more information on suicide and how you can help, please visit: http://www.save.org )<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-32766938084937037812015-09-08T13:19:00.004-06:002015-09-08T13:19:50.006-06:00Center Ring: A Dark Circus Novel Sneak PeekI'm so excited about my upcoming release, Center Ring: A Dark Circus Novel, that I just have to share some of it with you.<br />
<br />
Center Ring is a dark paranormal fantasy with elements that are only suitable for those 17 years of age and older, so please no kids! I don't want to give them nightmares!<br />
<br />
I've had a lot of fun writing this, and breaking into my even darker side. With those of you familiar with my previous works you already know I like my stories dark, so I can only imagine your shock when I show you how dark I can be!<br />
<br />
Well, without further ado or continued babbling, here is the first two chapters of Center Ring (along with the cover and the blurb). I hope you enjoy!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinB7juuukaKnCSkdea0WS7cJj6NxgsZkGpYS5JLCuN5mSyYwlPKf6cppmVjnEeBOejVUThuan6gHjwThtLolIHxZUhrXCQrtSKY4cym2tr5DgAI9nhbsufCvrJo6oPVSvZmVzKuyHuMV9z/s1600/Dark.Circus.1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinB7juuukaKnCSkdea0WS7cJj6NxgsZkGpYS5JLCuN5mSyYwlPKf6cppmVjnEeBOejVUThuan6gHjwThtLolIHxZUhrXCQrtSKY4cym2tr5DgAI9nhbsufCvrJo6oPVSvZmVzKuyHuMV9z/s640/Dark.Circus.1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
<div dir="ltr" id="yiv1367171475yui_3_16_0_1_1441667002647_2587" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">
BLURB:</div>
<div dir="ltr" id="yiv1367171475yui_3_16_0_1_1441667002647_2587" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv1367171475" id="yiv1367171475yui_3_16_0_1_1441664301562_2597" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">
Fear runs rampant, horror comes alive, and an ancient curse comes to light in the Dark Circus. </div>
<div class="yiv1367171475" id="yiv1367171475yui_3_16_0_1_1441664301562_2597" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">
<br class="yiv1367171475" id="yiv1367171475yui_3_16_0_1_1441664301562_3003" /></div>
<div class="yiv1367171475" id="yiv1367171475yui_3_16_0_1_1441664301562_2597" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">
As the star of the show, Candace is trapped between what she knows and what her mind demands her heart to see.</div>
<div class="yiv1367171475" id="yiv1367171475yui_3_16_0_1_1441664301562_2597" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">
She was raised knowing that when it comes to the Circus, nothing is what it seemed, but even some things were too terrifying for her to believe. </div>
<div class="yiv1367171475" id="yiv1367171475yui_3_16_0_1_1441664301562_2597" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">
<br class="yiv1367171475" id="yiv1367171475yui_3_16_0_1_1441664301562_3008" /></div>
<div class="yiv1367171475" id="yiv1367171475yui_3_16_0_1_1441664301562_2597" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">
The cards are stacked against her, and the stage is set. As time begins to run out a new show arises, one that brings evil to life. </div>
<div class="yiv1367171475" id="yiv1367171475yui_3_16_0_1_1441664301562_2597" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">
When she steps into the Center Ring, Candace understands that she'll never be able to turn back. The only certainty she holds is that she will die, but how is what the Tarot cards refuse to show.</div>
<div class="yiv1367171475" id="yiv1367171475yui_3_16_0_1_1441664301562_2597" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">
<br class="yiv1367171475" id="yiv1367171475yui_3_16_0_1_1441664301562_3013" /></div>
<div class="yiv1367171475" dir="ltr" id="yiv1367171475yui_3_16_0_1_1441664301562_2597" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">
Thrust into solving the mystery of her impending death she knows that only The Fool would wait for someone else to save her. But when you don't know who she can trust, how can she hope to save herself?</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Chapter One<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">High-pitched screaming
echoed throughout the tent as ghostly forms swooped down above the crowd,
terrifying the patrons who sat shivering in their seats as a chilling mist
weaved its way from beneath their benches into the rafters that rose high above
them. A brilliant shot of light pierced the center ring, highlighting the
shadowy figure that hadn’t stood there just moments before. Men chuckled
nervously as they pulled their loved ones closer. Comforting, or taking comfort
in their touch none could tell. The brilliant light flashed out only to be
replaced by a single spotlight, illuminating him, but not fully. His hand
clasped the brim of his top hat, hiding every feature of his face except for
his sinister smile. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Have you enjoyed your
evening of terror?” he called out to the audience, his voice echoing around all
facets of the tents without any help from a microphone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">His smile broadened,
sharp white teeth glistening in the dim lighting as he bowed before them, his
silver hair falling carelessly over his shoulders in the sweeping, elegant
gesture. “I have fed from your screams,” he said as he slowly raised, lowering
the rim of his hat further over his eyes, “delighted in the increasing tempo of
your heart beat. But it’s not over, not yet.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">With the flick of his
hand a single, illuminated tarot card appeared, glowing brighter as the lights
began to fade until there was nothing but it left to cast light upon the ring.
“The Fool.” Gasps erupted from the deadly silence as his voice broke out once
more. The card grew steadily in size, its colors vibrant, shockingly so until
everyone in the furthest reaches of the tent could see each vivid detail for
themselves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“A carefree wonderer.
Enthusiastic. Full of hope. Life.” With each word, the card began to flash,
pulsing steadily until it began to strobe, highlighting the enraptured faces of
the audience. “It speaks of traveling, as The Fool journeys with his dog among
the land, letting his feet take him wherever they will. Many of you wish for
such freedom.” His voice caressed the senses, ensnaring the audience further. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“But at what cost?” he
bellowed, drawing startled screams from the seduced gathering. “With his eyes
constantly towards the heavens, will he ever see what’s before him? Will he
ever hear his dog as it barks out its warning? For surely if you’re too busy
looking at what you want, nothing but death awaits you.” With one final,
brilliant flash the card vanished, shrouding the tent into darkness. But not
just any darkness, but a complete darkness that sent the remaining senses into
the depths of insanity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Candace took a
steadying breath as she wrapped her hands tighter around the drapes of fabric
as she looked down to where she knew the center ring to be. Breathing out
slowly, she arched her back, her muscles locked as she waited for her cue. With
the sound of cannon fire, all spotlights turned on, centuring on her. A small
smile graced her face. It was time. Straining her chest forward, she let the
movement take the remainder of her body with it. Wind whipped through her hair
as she fell, the air hissing past her ears louder than the screams of the
audience as soon as her feet left the steel cable that she had been balanced
on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Faster and faster the
circus floor sped toward her. Thirty feet. Twenty. She could barely breathe at
the speed that her body was plummeting. Ten feet, five and her body jarred to a
stop, the fabric straining above her. The screaming died down as soon as her
fall ceased, though whimpers could still be heard from the crowd. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She smiled slightly as
a pink curl escaped her updo, her own smaller top hat pinned carefully and
firmly into place had somehow managed to survive the downfall. Taking a
much-needed breath, she arched her body, angling it until she was almost
sideways to the ground before switching positions quickly and twisting herself
into the fabric, her muscles pulling herself back up the distance that she had
fallen to the delight of the audience. Once at the proper height, she paused
before shifting her feet, pressing against one length of fabric and stretching
it out, forcing her body to become horizontal to the ground. The ringmaster stood
below her, grabbing the ends of the fabric where they rested upon the floor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“See how she does
nothing but look up? How she see’s nothing but what she wishes life to be?”
Uneasily the audience’s eyes went back and forth between her and the ringmaster
as he began to slowly twirl the fabric. The slight movement below sent up
repercussions to where she hung in the air, turning her slowly at first, but
then faster and faster until the black of her dress and the pink of her hair
bled into one another, creating a staggering display of color. “How long do you
think she’ll be able to last?” He called out to the audience before twisting
the fabric violently. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Whimpers could be heard
from the crowd, mumbling by those who didn’t have enough courage to call out to
stop him. Again and again he turned her until, even after he let go, she still
spun. She curled into herself, pulling the fabric around her until nothing
could be seen of her. Nothing but white silk, spinning perpetually underneath
the hot lights. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A whoosh sounded in the
ring, drawing the petrified eyes of the crowd to where the ringmaster walked,
flaming torch aloft in his hands. He paused once again below the fabric, the
torch swaying precariously close to the precious material. “How long do you think
it would take for The Fool to realize her mistake? How long, ladies and
gentleman, until she will heed the dog’s warning?” He smiled again, showing no
mercy in the flashing of teeth and stretching of lips. “Let’s see, shall we?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He ignored the screams
and cries of the audience as he tipped the torch to the fabric. Flame sprouted
easily, eating its way up the silk almost faster than the human eye could
track. An ear piercing, shattering scream cried out over the terrified sounds
of the audience as the white cocoon that Candace had put herself in went up in
flames, the red and orange tongues licking outward as still it spun. Ash began
to fall, blanketing the air like snow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">With a final whoosh,
the last of the fabric was burned away, leaving nothing but tendrils of smoke
in its place. Some began to cry, others still screaming as people rose to their
feet, their eyes constantly searching for the girl. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In the midst of their terror, a soft, joyous laugh
rang out. One by one the audience stilled, listening to the sound as it got
louder and louder. “There! There she is!” someone cried out, pointing to the
very top of the circus tent. High above the crowd she sat, swinging joyfully
from a giant leash, her pink hair streaming out behind her as she pushed her
legs forward for more momentum. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well, it looks like
The Fool didn’t learn her lesson… yet.” The ringmaster stepped forward, drawing
eyes away from Candace. He held his gloved hands almost pleadingly before him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ladies and gentlemen! I’d like to tell you another
story, if I may. This will be the last of the night, and surely the best for we
always save the best for last. Or would that be the worst?” Uneasy chuckles
rang out from his words. He walked slowly around the ring, drawing the last of
the attention away from her. As he moved, the lights dimmed until they only
showcased him once again. Sighing, Candace grabbed the suspension cables above
her and checked her belt to make sure that the safety wire was in place before
beginning the arduous trek of climbing her way back to safety. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Chapter Two<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She kept a half ear to
the ringmaster as she made her way slowly across the cable, making sure not to
move too fast in case she would draw anyone’s attention. Pausing to catch her
breath, she reached forward with her hand, only to clutch back to the cable as
her heart beat sporadically in her chest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No, not now.” She
whispered as her pale green eyes flashed with panic. She could feel it, could
feel the unsteady beating of her heart as it tried to catch up with her
exertion. Her breath shuddered in her lungs, her body spasming, almost causing
her to let go of the cable as the pain built in her chest. Breathing through
the pain and the panic, she curled herself against the metal, not caring that
the hard surface dug into her fishnet-clad thighs. A part of her knew that she
was bleeding, that she was holding on too tightly and surely someone down below
would notice the steady stream of blood drops that fell to the circus floor,
but she didn’t care. Couldn’t care as she willed her damaged heart to keep
beating, to jump back in sync and not kill her. It couldn’t stop, not yet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She blinked her eyes
open as her body began to warm. But not just her body, the cable that she was
gripping to with all of her might was heating beneath her fingers as well.
Startled out of her panic, she frowned at the light that seemed to be coming
from the other side of the tent. But there shouldn’t be any light there. They
were at the end of the nights show, and no one messed up the lighting during
the shows, no one. Steadily, the light got brighter, closer, as did the heat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Her grip faltered as
sweat gathered on her palms, her irregular heart beat pounding furiously in her
throat. She couldn’t hold on, not if she wanted to survive the heat. Biting
back her own scream, she let go, letting her body go pliant as she fell, the
safety cable making her belt cut into her side as it jerked her to a stop not
even twenty feet below where she was dangling. Her eyes stayed glued to the top
of the tent and the light that keep growing. Without even time to react a
flaming ball of fire crashed through the top of the tent, whipping past her and
sending her spinning as it crashed to the circus floor. The crowd screamed
again, and even the ringmaster fell backwards as dirt flew up from the impact. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dust floated all around
the arena, clouding it as the ball of light slowly winked itself out.
Spotlights moved between the ringmaster and whatever had crashed to the floor,
the attendants not knowing what to focus their attention on. The ringmaster
stood, mindlessly dusting off his normally impeccable clothes as he strode cautiously
forward toward the figure that was slowly rising out of the settling dust. The
spotlights merged, each shining on the other until the shadows of the two men
emerged, each reaching out until they blurred into one another. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She watched, enraptured
as the two men faced off. She couldn’t see their faces, and could barely make
out discerning body parts from her spot at the top of the tent, but she knew
something was wrong. How could it not be? No one, no matter how brave, would
crash through the top of the tent, and they never deviated from their routines.
There was no improv, no flashes of brilliance. In the Dark Circus, if you
deviated, you died. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ripping her attention
away from them, she crawled up her safety cord until she could grab the cable
once again. Thanking her lucky stars that whoever it was didn’t break the cord
on his entry she made her way quickly across, not caring if anyone saw. She needed
her feet to be on solid ground, and she needed it now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Phoenix…” She stilled
at the ringmasters voice. It was flat. Dead and so cold that she wanted to
lower her head in supplication. Shaking off the feeling she kept moving,
gratefully getting onto the small platform attached to one of the circus poles
before making her way quickly down the rope ladder, keeping her ears strained
to what was going on hundreds of feet below her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You can’t be here…”
Shock filled his tone before outright anger took its place. “You. Can’t. Be.
Here!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Her feet touched the
earth, but she didn’t pay any attention to the overwhelming relief her body
felt at that moment. Merging with the shadows, her eyes stayed trained on the
two before her, spotlighted in the center ring.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A black shroud seemed
to be behind the man, twitching ever so slightly as he stood still before the
ringmaster. Regal and powerful, his broad shoulders underneath the black
expanded as he took a deep, rumbling breath.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“The time of my
punishment is over. You know that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The ringmaster laughed,
the sound sending a chill down her spine, freezing her in place as he fingered
the leather whip attached to his belt. “You are a fool for coming here,
Phoenix. I will not forgive your betrayal.” Unsnapping the clip, he let the
whip uncoil before him. The mass of blackness fluttered at the sight of it as
Phoenix stood straighter, preparing himself. Snakelike, the whip swayed on the
ground between them, the metal tips on the end gleaming brightly in the stage
lights, drawing the eyes of everyone around and entrancing them as they watched
in half horror, half fascination for what was to come. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Lighting fast, the
silver blurred into a streak of light as the ringmaster lashed out, striking
Phoenix across the chest. She held her breath as the whip found its mark,
showing unmarked skin until a line of blood revealed itself, seeming out of
sync with the strike entirely. Phoenix didn’t cry out as again and again the
whip cut across his golden skin, spreading lines of crimson red that bled down
in smooth streaks, blurring the color of his skin until you couldn’t see
anything left of it besides the blood. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Fight me, damn you!”
The ringmaster cried out, his voice maniacal, eerie in the otherwise silent
tent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Phoenix dropped to the
ground, his knees finally giving out on him as the last of his strength disappeared.
“I cannot. You know I cannot fail the gods yet again.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The ringmaster stilled
at Phoenix’s words. “Then you really are a fool. If you didn’t come here to
stop me, then why did you come so swiftly to meet your own death?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A rumble built in
Phoenix’s chest as he laughed before the sound cut off on a hiss as the blood
flowed faster. “You know why.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Slowly the ringmaster
turned his head, locking his eyes onto where Candace stood in the shadows.
Being on ground level with him, she could see his eyes, the pure blackness that
fed into his pupils were startling in any situation, but in this they were
horrifying. She took a step back from him as she met his gaze. Hate. His gaze
was filled with such hate that she wanted to turn on her heels and flee, but
she couldn’t. The circus as her home, Vincent, the ringmaster filled with so
much hate and fury before her was her home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She wrapped her arms
around herself as an uncontrollable shiver coursed through her body, the
feeling moving under her skin until she felt like she was going to shatter into
a thousand pieces. Her knees weakened as Vincent turned away from her, a small
smile firmly in place as he returned his gaze back to Phoenix.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Then you are a greater
fool than even I could have imagined, as are your gods.” He spat before
bringing the whip up once again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Crimson drops shone
silver in the spotlights as Vincent kept up his brutal assault, bringing an
eerie edge to the already darkened circus tent. The crowd waited in silence,
their breaths abated as Phoenix took blow after blow, his body sinking lower to
the dirt floor as each pass of the whip seemed to take the life out of him
until he lay still in the middle of the center ring. Not breathing. Unmoving. Still,
Vincent drew the whip back, starting to attack the shroud that spread in two
large streaks down Phoenix’s back. Ebony feathers scattered out beside him, wet
with his blood. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Panting from exertion Vincent
lowered the brim of his top hat, shadowing his eyes from the harsh lights as he
lowered the bloodied whip to his side, the iron studs attached to it harmless
now as it coiled on the dirt floor beside him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A smile spread slowly
across his face, the muscles pulling, shadowed within the light, the single,
slow act appearing sinister. Stuttering out a breath, Candace a single step
forward, refusing to step fully into the light cast from the center of the
ring, even though her heart was pounding inside of her chest, calling to her,
screaming at her to hurry, to run. Something was wrong, deadly wrong. She knew
every moment of the Circus, had lived within it since she was a child, and even
though they would change and alter their ghastly entertainments, nothing ever
went off without a hitch. This? This wasn’t anywhere in the script. It wasn’t
rehearsed, and it wasn’t fake. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The audience broke out
of their stunned trances. Some women sobbed, while the men laughed feebly,
seeing the truth with their own eyes yet refusing to believe that it was real.
But it was real, and as the blood seeped toward her she knew to the very bottom
of her soul that things would never be the same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Swallowing harshly, she
forced her gaze to Vincent as she called out to him softly. “Vincent… the
audience…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He met her gaze and
blinked, seeming to come out of his own rage-induced trance as he slowly moved
his head around, gazing into the crowd as if he just realized that they were
there. Without a pause, he smiled, his entertainers mask back in place as his
booming laugh echoed hollowly around the arena. With a flourish he threw the
whip aside, not caring where it landed as he raised his arms to his side, his
face shining once more in the light except for his eyes that were still
shadowed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Have no fear, ladies
and gentlemen, for I have slain the fallen angel, denying his vengeance for
blood that has sent him here!” He turned quickly, holding his hand out to the
shadow where Candace waited, her body trembling in the aftermath of what she
had seen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She steeled herself,
willing her heart to calm as she stepped forward on her platform heels, the
sound silent as she moved across the barren dirt. Forcing a smile, her hand
trembled as she took his hand within hers. He gripped hers tightly, painfully.
Grimacing, she forced her smile again, willing it to reach her eyes as she met
the gazes of the petrified audience. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What’s going on?” She
asked between clenched teeth, not even moving her lips.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He twisted her to him,
embracing her for a moment to whisper “It’s nothing for you to worry about,
Candy”, before twisting her back out in a well-practiced dance move. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Her heart beat in her throat,
making it hard for her to swallow as he pulled her toward the fallen, bloody
body before them. In the back of her mind she heard Vincent’s voice, grandly
speaking to the audience as they stopped before Phoenix, but she couldn’t focus
on his words as she stood before the prone figure. A part of her knew that the
feathers were real, but another part of her just couldn’t bring herself to
believe it. It had to be an act, had to be. Things weren’t what they seemed to
be in the circus, but sometimes she could see the way the audience would view
it, with half a mind wanting to believe it was real, while the other half kept
them sane by whispering that it was just an act. All of it was an act. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Keeping her smile in
place she knelt beside the ‘angel’, her fingers hovering over those ebony wings
glistening with blood. She gently touched his shoulder, right above where the
wings seemed to protrude from his back. A warm shock scorched up her arm,
slamming into her heart the moment she touched him. A shudder racked his body
at her touch, his breathing becoming steadier as he slowly, painfully lifted
his head. Startling clear eyes, one blue, one green, slammed into her as the
single braid of black hair swept gently over his shoulder, falling almost perfectly
to rest in a gentle coil on the bloody ground. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Her
breath lodged in her throat, her body immobile as she locked gazes with him,
her crystal-clear blue eyes captured by his harrowing gaze. He smiled weakly,
his full lips pulling enough to reveal dimples. He opened his mouth to speak,
but nothing but blood came out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Phantom
pain lashed through her as his body began to jerk violently. Clutching at her
heart, she fell beside him, her corset and tooled skirt becoming slick with his
blood as lash after lash marked across her skin, the pain matching that which
was inflicted upon him. Unable to stand it anymore, she opened her mouth to
scream, only to become silenced as his mouth pressed against hers, hot and
open, swallowing the sound. Her body arched up, the clothing making a wet noise
as it lifted from the puddle of blood that was congealing beneath her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Black
began to cloud her vision as her hearing faded in and out along with the
beating of her heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> “For
the priest had fallen in love with a slave girl….” Beat. Beat. Beat. “Giving
himself to her for all of eternity, he was cursed by the ancient God, Ra…”
Beat. Beat. “For he had forsaken his maker, forsaken his destiny…” Beat. “And
in return, he was cursed to watch her die for eons, while he lived… forever.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Sooooo what did you think?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Leave a comment to let me know if you're now as excited about this release as I am!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It's publishing to all outlets on September 29th, BUT I have an added surprise for you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Review copies are open to EVERYONE!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That's right. You don't have to be a blogger, or an author, or someone in the publishing community. Review copies are open to anyone who loves to read, and who will give an honest review of Dark Circus. That's all the qualifications you need.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Interested in signing up? You can do so <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1Lka6tCltFBLFXtipv3nsM_zinexrj9aGLKtHyUVJSKI/viewform" target="_blank">HERE</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Want to add it to your Goodreads TBR? You can do so <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/26247632-center-ring" target="_blank">HERE</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Thank you so much for stopping by! My love and confetti to you always,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Desiree</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-21179563789001056912015-07-21T18:14:00.001-06:002015-07-21T18:17:56.830-06:00Interview with Author Rachael Brownell and review!<br />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Interview with Author Rachael Brownell</h2>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
AND review of Holding On, Holding On Book One</h3>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Recently I had the utter pleasure of 'sitting' down on facebook (aka sitting in our pajama's miles away from each other with only the interwebs to connect us) with Rachael for an interactive interview discussing how her life effected her books, and vice versa along with what she has in store for us next!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>About The Author</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9rkqWG9SO2q-CysaW7Ce5-Citv33hHCvg4G3YDGkjXYCUTczhAbDedpiOps4hB5c03lmgbqFwB15hTC1vqwtK0377x-_NkbUuESzgHYWnfv16sgoIImVJH3jdMNyUri9znYhElcP5K11-/s1600/6130cIdnMML._UX250_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9rkqWG9SO2q-CysaW7Ce5-Citv33hHCvg4G3YDGkjXYCUTczhAbDedpiOps4hB5c03lmgbqFwB15hTC1vqwtK0377x-_NkbUuESzgHYWnfv16sgoIImVJH3jdMNyUri9znYhElcP5K11-/s1600/6130cIdnMML._UX250_.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><b>Rachael Brownell is the author of both YA and NA Romance.</b></span><br />
<b><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;" /></b>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><b>She is from Kalamazoo, Michigan where she still lives with her husband and son. She has a Bachelor's degree in Advertising but currently works in the hospitality industry. When Rachael is not working on her next manuscript, you might find her on the golf course. (It's a family thing) If you see her, step back. She is still learning. </b></span><br />
<b><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;" /></b>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><b>To keep up with what Rachael is doing at the moment, visit her on Facebook, follow her on Twitter or sign up for her newsletter.</b></span><br />
<b><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;" /></b>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><b>Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorRachaelBrownell</b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><b>Twitter: @HoldingOn2013</b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><b>Blog: www.authorrachaelbrownell.com</b></span><br />
<b><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;" /></b>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><b>Newsletter sign up: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1fQ4QIQvk0WQSJEcKqr0AskSt-F-wseI1cAxuQguEhdU/viewform</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Now that we have the 'official' bio of the author out of the way, are you ready for the interview?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Because here we go!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Blue</span></span>: Rachael</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">Pink</span></span>: Your Confetti Queen</div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #ea9999;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #ea9999;">Creatives generally use their past experiences and the emotions from them in their writing. What is one emotion/past experience that you use in your work?</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">The basis of Holding On is off a past experience. I wrote the original draft when I was a pissed off teenager. My mom moved us to Arizona when I was in 10th grade.</span><br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">Hence why Becca (the MC in Holding On) is a little bit of me...</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">Where did you move from?</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">Michigan</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">That's a rather big transition. How did you deal with moving to such a different environment? I've moved from California to Indiana, and it was like a whole different world.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">It was different. I was so angry when we first moved that I kept to myself and then once I made a few amazing new friends, I settled down and adapted. We ended up moving back to Michigan less than a year later. There are some big differences in the culture and lifestyle, though. For instance, you can't say pop when referring to Pepsi or Coke. You have to say soda or they look at you funny.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">I didn't hear the term 'soda' until I moved to Indiana, and then the whole pop or soda debacle ensued. It's good that you made friends in Arizona. Were you there long enough to make some enemies?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">I'm sure I made a few but it was so long ago that I really don't remember. I haven't lived there in almost 20 years.</span><br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">I'm old...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">You're not THAT old.</span><br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">I feel like it some days.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">I definitely hear you there!</span><br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">Looking back on it all, what would you tell your past self as she was going through it that you wished you would have known then?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">Embrace the change. Everything happens for a reason and even though you may not recognize it right away, something amazing will come from it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">What was the 'something amazing' for you?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">A number of things. I made a few lasting relationships, friends that I never would have met that have made a positive impact on my life. It was also my inspiration for the entire Holding On series, all four books, in so many ways.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">Writing can be very theraputic in that way. While writing the Holding On series, did you self-discover things about yourself or your past that you never noticed before?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">It was interesting to read the original draft and relive the emotions and situations that I had gone through. The original draft was more of a life story. The final draft wasn't. My life, as dramatic as I made it on paper, was not that interesting. But, to remember that time in my life, when the littlest things seemed so devastating... it made me laugh and inspired me to want to try my hand at writing again.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">I love that!</span><br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">Where did the majority of the anger you felt stem from? The fact of the move itself where you'd have to say goodbye to everything you knew, the sense of helplessness where you couldn't direct your own fate and had to rely on your parents, or something else?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">It was mostly the fact that I was scared. We moved a ton when I was growing up until sixth grade and then it seemed like we finally settled into one place, no more switching schools. I didn't want to have to make new friends again. I didn't want to leave the friends I had.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">A lot of kids these days go through the same thing, and share the same feelings as you. What is something you'd want to tell them to give them hope for their future?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">I guess I would tell them not to lose hope. Your future is what you make it. Keep pushing forward because hard work is what will get them where they want to be.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">(agree with that completely!)</span><br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">Based on your experience with writing your story into a series, what advice would you give other authors about writing from personal experiences?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">It was interesting, taking one tiny experience and turning it into a series. I created a new world, one that I could relate to but was exaggerated on. What I enjoyed most about it is the fact that the emotions behind the main character, Becca, were so real. I think it made her more relate able to readers because of that.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">I'm a firm believer in giving humanity to characters. It makes them so much more relate-able. What did you discover about yourself while you were writing the series?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">How much I've grown as a person. I started writing Holding On right after my son started kindergarten. To remember the person I used to be and see the person I had become was really neat. It had only been ten years or so at that point but there was a noticeable difference.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">It's amazing how people change over time, and almost always for the better.</span><br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">I'm a perpetual perfectionist and have to force myself to let go of my books. Are you tempted to change or improve things with the Holding On series? Or are you satisfied with it?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">There are a few things that I would change but I won't let myself. I'm happy with the way it ended. It felt incomplete for so long. I published book 3 last June and I thought it was the last book in the series. It kept nagging at me and nagging at me and finally I realized why. I hadn't given closure to one of the main characters. I HAD to write his book. It came out this June, exactly one year later to the day, and now it feels complete.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">That's great! And I'm glad you kept your mind open to the series until you were satisfied with it.</span><br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">What's one thing you want readers to know about the Holding On series, or want them to keep in mind and be open to as they read it?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">The series is progressive. It begins with the characters in high school, book 2 they're in college, book 3 is from Ethan's perspective and wraps up his relationship with Becca and book 4 is from Brad's perspective and wraps up his relationship with Becca and the series. The characters grow up through the series. Becca is young, immature and indecisive in the first book. She's your average teenage girl. You get to watch as the characters find their footing in the world and with each other.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">Character growth is a must in all books.</span><br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">What can we expect from you in the future and can I sweet talk you into sharing a bit of it?</span><br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">The number one negative I get on reviews is that Becca is whiny. Well... she's a teenage girl. It always makes me laugh a little.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">LOL I've heard the same things about one of my main characters as well.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">Ah! I have a new book coming out in a few months. I haven't announced the release date yet but... Next will be released (tentatively) September 1st! I'd love to share a little bit with you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">Woot! That's awesome! I can't wait to see what you have in store!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">What if one kiss could change everything? </span><br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">It did, for Reagan Brooks. Her fascination with Luke Evans went from a school-girl crush to heart-wrenching love in an instant. Then he left town, leaving a starry-eyed Reagan in his wake. No one will ever be good enough. No kiss will ever compare to his. Reagan’s standards are high. When someone doesn’t meet them, she moves on. </span><br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">“Next in line, please.” </span><br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">Moving through life with unrealistic expectations can be damaging. Letting those expectations go… It’s in that moment we find out who we are and what we really want.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">I can't wait to get to read that, and thank you so much for sharing with me!</span><br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">Okay love, I think that's about it for the interview. Thank you so much for your time and for opening up about your books and your past!</span><br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">It's been soo much fun! Thank you. </span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Want to know more about Rachael and her books? You can read Holding On for FREE on </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Holding-Rachael-Brownell-ebook/dp/B00KDKOGSE/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1437522617&sr=1-3&keywords=Rachael+Brownell" target="_blank">Amazon</a> and <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/holding-on-rachael-brownell/1117229555?ean=9781499390759" target="_blank">B&N</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">REVIEW</span></h2>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1a9xH2DI83H4cXLedOSykajsPFKiLV63hwEMIP5j78chO0e4V7ozoiFFFoBf9IZW3JvxlEOLFsYp3dUPKcH2oWXEvelnPx5Y333iZa0_u16yRDb1LTmY1p3-Zm6l9dBGgbRpOafjVct9M/s1600/51gkpK%252BsTFL._SX331_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1a9xH2DI83H4cXLedOSykajsPFKiLV63hwEMIP5j78chO0e4V7ozoiFFFoBf9IZW3JvxlEOLFsYp3dUPKcH2oWXEvelnPx5Y333iZa0_u16yRDb1LTmY1p3-Zm6l9dBGgbRpOafjVct9M/s320/51gkpK%252BsTFL._SX331_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" width="213" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">For five years Becca has been struggling to hide her feelings for her best friend, Brad. Now she finally has a chance to move on. She's in a new city, she's attending a new school, and she's met the first guy besides Brad who's held her attention in a long time. Not only is Ethan attractive, he's an amazing tennis player, and he might just be Becca's match on and off the courts. </span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">
<br />
Brad has loved Becca for as long as he can remember. Now that Becca's family has moved two thousand miles away, Brad may finally be ready to lay his heart on the line and do whatever it takes to hold on to Becca. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">
<br />
But is Brad too late? Or will Ethan's secret drive Becca back into Brad's arms? Torn between her love for Brad and the promise of something new and exciting with Ethan, Becca has an almost impossible choice to make, the choice between letting go or holding on.<br />
<br />
This book is a young adult romance, intended for readers as young as 14 years old.</div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-align: center;">
FIVE STARS</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-align: center;">
Holding On was a fast, emotionally captivating read that immediately drew you into the story and kept your attention (and your heart) riveted to the page. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-align: center;">
Becca is an easy main character to emphasize with, along with become frustrated with, which to me marks the sign of a great character because you can't like someone ALL the time. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-align: center;">
Brownell spins the story with vivid clarity, while still leaving your enough room for your own creativity to take hold and flesh out your own visions.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-align: center;">
A sweet story about life, love, and the choices you feel like you're forced to make when you'd rather not make any choices at all.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-align: center;">
I highly recommend Holding On because it captivates your humanity, and I seriously doubt there's anyone out there who wouldn't be able to relate to Becca in some way!</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;">
<br /></div>
</h2>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-9466342285260881612015-07-13T11:56:00.000-06:002015-07-13T11:57:06.603-06:00STEAM by Stacey Rouke!<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<u>Cover Reveal for STEAM</u></h2>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<u>By Stacey Rourke</u></h3>
<div>
<u><br /></u></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3_fZ-A5R6a0fNdKG8si8LB9nb8Qp33BeQVhmVgPoBrGdywx_p6STd1jLhpL0hBRVUFop1XiN0qzT5Z_iY9sHnEF70iyn1asyfoYsrU3dAidVba6ky9AN0LcUqJa0j2KHCgBVtQK3OPr2h/s1600/SteamEbookAmazon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3_fZ-A5R6a0fNdKG8si8LB9nb8Qp33BeQVhmVgPoBrGdywx_p6STd1jLhpL0hBRVUFop1XiN0qzT5Z_iY9sHnEF70iyn1asyfoYsrU3dAidVba6ky9AN0LcUqJa0j2KHCgBVtQK3OPr2h/s640/SteamEbookAmazon.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;"></span></div>
<a name='more'></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;">Time passes, sins forgotten.</span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;">The bodies of the victims long since rotten. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;">Trapped within the essence of the Headless Horseman by the guilt of slaughtering her best friend, Ireland Crane follows the father of science fiction, HG Wells, in search of freedom from the curse that binds her. Instead, she discovers even he has a hidden agenda. A dark, relentless passion to be reunited with the woman he loves has driven him to manipulate time and a murderous Horseman. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;">Yet heed my warning, as the Raven flies,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;">The Hessian will come … and you will die.</span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;">All that prevents Ireland from abandoning Wells’ twisted pursuit, or introducing him to her sword, are the undead witches haunting her. Begging for freedom from a vile succubus, the ghoulish coven leads Ireland and her crew on a journey through Salem’s sordid past. There, they learn there is more to Nathaniel Hawthorne’s history than a scarlet letter, and the secret they’ve uncovered seeks to destroy them all.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Add it to your TBR on <a href="http://tinyurl.com/steamgr" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Interested in reading the first and second book in the Legends Saga? You can find them <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Crane-Legends-Saga-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00KJQ5D98/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8" target="_blank">here</a>!</h3>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Crane, Legends Saga Book One</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Crane-Legends-Saga-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00KJQ5D98/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8" target="_blank">Amazon</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/crane-stacey-rourke/1119914154?ean=9780991517442" target="_blank">B&N</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Raven, Legends Saga Book Two</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00N98RVEI/ref=series_rw_dp_sw" target="_blank">Amazon</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/raven-stacey-rourke/1120360105?ean=2940046169676" target="_blank">B&N</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;"><b>About The Author</b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/31zCw-3sWUL._UX250_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/31zCw-3sWUL._UX250_.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: start;">RONE Award Winner for Best YA Paranormal Work of 2012 for Embrace, a Gryphon Series Novel</span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: start;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: start;">Young Adult and Teen Reader voted Author of the Year 2012</span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: start;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: start;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
Turning Pages Magazine Winner for Best YA book of 2013 & Best Teen Book of 2013 </div>
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: start;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: start;">Stacey Rourke is the author of the award winning YA Gryphon Series, the chillingly suspenseful Legends Saga, and the romantic comedy Adapted for Film. She lives in Michigan with her husband, two beautiful daughters, and two giant dogs. She loves to travel, has an unhealthy shoe addiction, and considers herself blessed to make a career out of talking to the imaginary people that live in her head. </span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: start;">
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: start;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: start;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Visit her at rourkewrites.weebly.com</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: start;"><div style="text-align: center;">
diaryofasemi-crazyauthor.blogspot.com</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: start;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Facebook at www.facebook.com/staceyrourkeauthor</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: start;"><div style="text-align: center;">
or on Twitter or instagram at Rourkewrites.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</span><br />
<div>
<u><br /></u></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-74468673147829990142015-07-09T10:06:00.000-06:002015-07-09T10:06:07.571-06:00Transcending Darkness by Airicka Phoenix COVER REVEAL<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.inkslingerpr.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Transcending-Darkness-Banner.jpg"><img alt="Transcending Darkness - Banner" class="aligncenter wp-image-9912" src="http://www.inkslingerpr.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Transcending-Darkness-Banner.jpg" height="195" width="526" /></a>
</div>
<h1 style="text-align: center;">
</h1>
<h1 style="text-align: center;">
Today we are revealing the cover for TRANSCENDING DARKNESS by Airicka Phoenix. This is an adult, standalone novel that will be released July 27th.</h1>
<div>
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<h1 style="text-align: center;">
Add <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17696368-title-to-be-revealed">TRANSCENDING DARKNESS to Goodreads</a></h1>
<h1 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.inkslingerpr.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Transcending-Darkness-Amazon.jpg"><img alt="Transcending Darkness - Amazon" class="aligncenter wp-image-9900" src="http://www.inkslingerpr.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Transcending-Darkness-Amazon.jpg" height="763" width="477" /></a></h1>
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>TRANSCENDING DARKNESS BLURB: </b></span></span></h3>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em>One: Sign the contract.</em><em> </em></div>
Juliette Romero had a debt to pay, a debt that wasn’t even hers. But it was the only way to keep her family safe and all she had to do was sell her body and soul to the devil.
Killian McClary wasn’t called the Scarlet Wolf for nothing. He’d been the head of the McClary Organization since he was fifteen and had built a reputation for being a ruthless son of a bitch when it came to running the city’s underbelly, not to mention merciless when it came to punishing those who betray him. He didn’t believe in weaknesses. Only results. Juliette, with her shy smiles and hot little body was a weakness unlike any other and yet he was powerless to resist one more taste of her sweet flesh.
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em>Two: Become his for a year.</em></div>
When given the choice between her life or her body, what could Juliette possibly do, but submit to a man whose very name invoked fear in the hearts others? She just never anticipated falling for his dark, hungry eyes and clever hands, or the way the beast in him made her feel oddly safe and cherished.
But what will happen when Killian’s dark past finally catches up to him and threatens the woman he can no longer imagine himself without? What will happen when both sides find themselves caught in a web of passion, lies and broken promises? Can Juliette tame the wolf or will her love for him devour them both?
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em>Three: Don’t fall in love.</em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Boundaries will be crossed, loyalties will be tested and lives will be changed forever.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.inkslingerpr.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Transcending-Darkness-wrap.jpg"><img alt="Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000039_00005]" class="aligncenter wp-image-9901" src="http://www.inkslingerpr.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Transcending-Darkness-wrap.jpg" height="358" width="505" /></a>
</div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.inkslingerpr.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Teaser-11.jpg"><img alt="Teaser 1" class="aligncenter wp-image-9906" src="http://www.inkslingerpr.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Teaser-11.jpg" height="517" width="517" /></a> <a href="http://www.inkslingerpr.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Transcending-Darkness-Teaser-4.jpg"><img alt="Double exposure of city and business man" class="aligncenter wp-image-9907" src="http://www.inkslingerpr.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Transcending-Darkness-Teaser-4.jpg" height="306" width="519" /></a></h3>
<div>
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">AUTHOR INFORMATION: </span></b>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.inkslingerpr.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/Airicka-Phoenix.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Airicka Phoenix" class="size-medium wp-image-9017 alignleft" src="http://www.inkslingerpr.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/Airicka-Phoenix-168x300.jpg" height="300" width="168" /></a><b></b><br />
<b>BIO:</b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Airicka Phoenix is a romance junkie with an incurable addiction to chocolate. She is also a prolific author of several novels written for young adult and new adult romance addicts who love bad boys, hot kisses and a gritty plot. Airicka prides herself in producing quality material her readers can fall in love with again and again.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">When she's not hard at work bleeding words onto paper, Airicka can be found cuddling with her family, reading, watching TV shows, or just finding excuses not to do chores.</span></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Be the first for giveaways, teasers and upcoming releases by joining Airicka's newsletter on her website </span><a href="http://www.airickaphoenix.com/" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.AirickaPhoenix.com</span></a>
</div>
<div>
<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><b>AUTHOR LINKS: </b></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Website: </span><a href="http://www.airickaphoenix.com/" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.AirickaPhoenix.com</span></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Newsletter: </span><a href="http://eepurl.com/VgLqD" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://eepurl.com/VgLqD</span></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Facebook: </span><a href="http://goo.gl/eYXrrh" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://goo.gl/eYXrrh</span></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Twitter: </span><a href="http://goo.gl/yoVWYF" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://goo.gl/yoVWYF</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> (@AirickaPhoenix)</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Goodreads: </span><a href="http://goo.gl/HGVszf" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://goo.gl/HGVszf</span></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Google+: </span><a href="http://goo.gl/wgdslQ" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://goo.gl/wgdslQ</span></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Instagram: </span><a href="http://goo.gl/QRmqdy" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://goo.gl/QRmqdy</span></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Pinterest: </span><a href="http://goo.gl/Y5AOQq" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://goo.gl/Y5AOQq</span></a><br />
Amazon: <a href="http://goo.gl/Nq57nJ" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://goo.gl/Nq57nJ</span></a>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.inkslingerpr.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/z-InkSlinger-Blogger.jpg"><img alt="z-InkSlinger Blogger" class="aligncenter wp-image-8718" src="http://www.inkslingerpr.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/z-InkSlinger-Blogger-1024x422.jpg" height="148" width="359" /></a></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-78263384857941004832015-07-01T14:18:00.000-06:002015-07-01T14:20:55.085-06:00When They Crown Comes OffI'm known as the Confetti Queen. The simplest explanation I can for why I'm named such is because I believe in positivity and spreading love and hope to others, thus why I throw my confetti.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There comes a time though, when I have to remove my crown and become the 'not-so-nice' Desiree. These times, thankfully, are few and far between but after this morning the crown is off.</div>
<div>
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<div>
I am very, VERY protective of the authors and bloggers I work with and I adore. As a general rule I don't care what people think or say about me, but when it comes to my authors and bloggers, who to me are my family, all bets are off.</div>
<div>
<br />
So I'm here today to tell you a little bit about etiquette, and more specifically, what to do and not to do when you are being paid to do a job for an author and/or a designer.<br />
<br />
Now recently I decided that it would be in my best interest to hire myself a PA for both my graphic design company and for author promotions. That way, I could focus more on my work than the promoting aspects of things. It was a good idea, but unfortunately ideas sometimes just don't work out.<br />
<br />
Over the short time that I had my PA, it was DEMANDED of me that she get paid EQUALLY to me, meaning that her spending a few minutes here and there sharing posts and the like was somehow EQUAL to me spending the hours/days/months working on a project. We had a blow out about it, and for some reason she couldn't understand WHY I was upset by the fact that she wanted to be paid 50/50 to me.<br />
<br />
HERE'S my reasons why that didn't happen.<br />
<br />
1) While I spent anywhere from eight hours to four days on a cover, you only spend a few minutes to hit the share button or to post it on a facebook wall.<br />
<br />
2) While I have to pay full price for a shutterstock subscription to have the stock photos on hand to design with, you don't have to be responsible for that at all.<br />
<br />
In the end, the amount of work that I put in vs the amount that you put in does not in any way shape or form give you the right to demand a 50/50 pay grade.<br />
<br />
So, RULE NUMBER ONE!<br />
<br />
DO NOT ASK FOR MORE THAN WHAT YOUR TIME IS WORTH.<br />
<br />
Yes, you should be paid for your time, and have it worthwhile. BUT you should not demand more than the weight that you carry.<br />
<br />
Another issue I had is this: I hired her for a specific purpose, and ended up having to do the job in which I hired her for. NOT ONLY did she not even fill out the basic requirements for what I hired her for then DEMAND that I pay her more than she was worth, but she ALSO refused to give me any of the contanct information for the authors that purchased my designs, that way I could talk with them about their covers, and also keep contact with them that way they didn't feel like I was ignoring them.<br />
<br />
So instead of assisting me, what it boiled down to was her trying to run MY business and keeping me out of the loop of vital information. That not only put my name and reputation on the line, but ALSO jeapordized the authors who had purchased covers.<br />
<br />
RULE NUMBER TWO!<br />
<br />
DO NOT JEAPORDIZE YOUR EMPLOYER OR THE PEOPLE THEY WORK WITH!<br />
<br />
I could have handled rule number one being broken. Sure, its annoying and a pain in the butt to deal with, but I would have been able to brush it off and just left it as is.<br />
<br />
What I will NOT handle nor be in any way okay with is ANYONE jeapordizing the lovely people I work with. If you want to trash talk me or try to screw me over, fine. But DO NOT bring my authors into it. DO NOT think so highly of yourself that you think you can start trash talking me and put my authors in jeopardy without paying some form of a price for it.<br />
<br />
Thanks to this specific PA (whom had the idocrity to inform me that she had been dropped from many previous authors for the exact same issues that I've had) I now have a huge mess to clean up, and it has left me in a state where I WILL NOT work with another PA again, nor seek assistance to further my businesses from anyone else.<br />
<br />
I could be a huge b*tch and show you guys all the screen shots (yes I screen shot and keep everything) and blast her completely on all media fronts, but I choose to be more diligent about my reputation than she has been with hers.<br />
<br />
I hope everyone learns from this. Before you hire ANYONE, first get to know them. Create a contract in detail that explains the role that the person you're hiring will be doing, and for the love of god research said person.<br />
<br />
I've learned my lesson, and I'm cleaning up the mess this particular lesson has made.<br />
<br />
So *puts back on crown*<br />
<br />
Share the love and the confetti.<br />
<br />
With love, Always:<br />
<br />
Your Confetti Queen.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-34040565266564412442015-07-01T10:42:00.003-06:002015-07-01T10:46:04.788-06:00RAIN MURPHY RELEASE BLITZ!!!<a href="https://2girlsandabook.files.wordpress.com/2015/06/banner1.jpg"><img alt="banner" class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-1249" height="438" src="https://2girlsandabook.files.wordpress.com/2015/06/banner1.jpg?w=660" width="660" /></a>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Lucida Handwriting'; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Lucida Handwriting'; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Lucida Handwriting'; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: black;">Presented By</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2girlsandabook.files.wordpress.com/2015/06/collage.jpg"><img alt="collage" class="aligncenter size-medium wp-image-1250" height="156" src="https://2girlsandabook.files.wordpress.com/2015/06/collage.jpg?w=300" width="300" /></a></div>
<span style="color: red; font-family: 'Lucida Handwriting'; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: red; font-family: 'Lucida Handwriting'; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: red; font-family: 'Lucida Handwriting'; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: red; font-family: 'Lucida Handwriting'; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 107%;">Excerpt included at the end of this Post!</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Power-Wrong-Hands-Deciding-Island-ebook/dp/B010QCZ3LC/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1435758208&sr=8-1&keywords=power+in+the+wrong+hands+by+rain+murphy" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Power In The Wrong Hands cover" class="aligncenter wp-image-1257 size-full" height="438" src="https://2girlsandabook.files.wordpress.com/2015/06/power-in-the-wrong-hands-cover1.jpg" width="305" /></a>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Title: Power in the Wrong Hands Deciding Island, Book Two</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Author: Rain Murphy</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Publisher: Anchor Group Publishing</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Published: July 1, 2015</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Genre: Young Adult, Fantasy</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red; font-family: 'Lucida Handwriting'; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 107%;">Blurb</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span id="freeText3619469583356940342">Respect the Island.
Snowdrop’s life changed when she found her mate, Orion Hunter. Her father always said finding your mate was like magic, but this was so much more. In the blink of an eye, Snowdrop found her life hung in the balance. Kidnapped and tortured by an evil vampire, Snowdrop was left wondering if she would live long enough to enjoy her newly found mate.
Sammy was on the verge of turning rogue, and fought his evil side every day to keep it at bay. Then Sammy finds out he is the only one that can infiltrate the rogue’s hideout. He knew it would be his true challenge. He knew the mission came with the possibility of being sent to Deciding Island for judgment, a judgment that would most likely lead to being Island Ash. His only hope came from the most unlikely place, but would it be enough?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Power-Wrong-Hands-Deciding-Island-ebook/dp/B010QCZ3LC/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1435758208&sr=8-1&keywords=power+in+the+wrong+hands+by+rain+murphy" target="_blank">Get Your Copy for $0.99 on AMAZON</a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red; font-family: 'Lucida Handwriting'; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 107%;">Meet the Author</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red; font-family: 'Lucida Handwriting'; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red; font-family: 'Lucida Handwriting'; font-size: 20pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://2girlsandabook.files.wordpress.com/2015/06/rain.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Rain" class="alignleft size-full wp-image-1260" height="333" src="https://2girlsandabook.files.wordpress.com/2015/06/rain.jpg" width="250" /></a>Rain Murphy was born on the west coast, and now lives on the east coast. Writing is not a job or career to her it is a passion. She is the Author of "DECIDING ISLAND SERIES" & "Saints! LOL or Are They?" Her books are geared toward adults, young and old, with the sexual passages being implied. It will appeal to lovers of fiction, fantasy, and magical happenings.
Forgiveness, is book one in the Deciding Island Series. Saint Valentinus, What in the VAMP were you thinking? is book one in the Saint Series.
There are minimal to no cliffhangers each book can stand alone.
When Rain is not writing, reading, or promoting her two series she is spending time with her children and grandchildren. They like to camp, kayak, spent time on the beach and have fun plotting her next book.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Connect with Rain on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/authorrainmurphy?fref=ts" target="_blank">FACEBOOK</a>/<a href="https://twitter.com/rainauthorofDI" target="_blank">TWITTER</a>/<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rain-Murphy/e/B00MZZQKFW/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1435765890&sr=1-2" target="_blank">AMAZON</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://anchorgrouppublishing.us4.list-manage1.com/subscribe?u=b82e71e57626e261858017283&id=fc5b40bff1" target="_blank">Sign up for Anchor Group's Newsletter and receive a free ebook!</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red; font-family: 'Lucida Handwriting'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;">Forgiveness & Power in the Wrong Hands</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red; font-family: 'Lucida Handwriting'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red; font-family: 'Lucida Handwriting'; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2girlsandabook.files.wordpress.com/2015/06/both1.jpg"><img alt="both1" class="aligncenter wp-image-1270 size-large" height="495" src="https://2girlsandabook.files.wordpress.com/2015/06/both1.jpg?w=660" width="660" /></a></div>
<strong> </strong>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><br /></em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><br /></em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Excerpt</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><br /></em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><br /></em></strong></div>
<strong>Hunter</strong> walked back to the glamour opening at the bottom of the Sphinx. Mystic, the leader of the Meat Eaters, waited for everyone’s report from the war as they exited. As he waited in line for his turn, Hunter heard someone yelling his name. “Hunter, wait for me, I need to talk to you.”<br />
<br />
It was Saturesa, Sat for short, Hunter’s longtime friend. As Sat caught up with Hunter, he could hear the enthusiasm in Sat’s voice which meant trouble. Sat always had some hair brained scheme for picking up girls. “Hey, after you talk to Mystic, what do you say to coming to the Eastern Shore with me?”
<br />
<br />
Hunter, not feeling very social these days, told Sat, “No, I’m headed home, but thanks for the invite.”
<br />
Sat, never being one to take no for an answer, told him, “Come on, Hunter. Everyone’s going to the Eastern Shore for a weeklong celebration, and there is going to be lots of girls.” Hunter gave Sat half a smile and looked down, shaking his head as he moved up one in line.<br />
<br />
Hunter knew that once Sat set his mind to something, he would be relentless at getting what he wanted. Hunter rolled his eyes and huffed his retort with a slight rumble in his voice, “Fine, but if I don’t have a GREAT time, I’ll leave. Got it?”<br />
<br />
Sat rubbed his hands together in anticipation of some fun, and in his cheery voice responded, “Fine! But you’ll have a blast, I promise.”<br />
<br />
Hunter figured the only reason Sat wanted to go was the neighbor girl named Snowdrop. Hunter had never been attracted to a female Techie. He didn’t know if it was all the hair or the fact that the females were dominant, and he preferred to be the leader in a relationship. Hunter did agree that for a Techie she looked striking. Even though he had never met her in person, he had noticed her from a distance. She didn’t have that same thick hair as the other Techies and seemed to have more of her herb growing everywhere. She was also short for a female Techie. He had not been close enough to know what color her eyes were, but Sat could not stop talking about her amazing hazel eyes. Sat would joke about how he should have been nicer to Snowdrop when she had a crush on him.<br />
<br />
Hunter handed Mystic his one page report. “Hi Mystic, my report is short because Adam’s children did all the work. It’s always amazing to watch them in action. Is it okay to head home now?”<br />
<br />
Mystic looked up at him from her seat. “Hunter, how is life?”
<br />
<br />
Hunter should have figured she would sense his loneliness. His kind lived so long, and without someone to share it with, the days and nights could go forever. Depression was a serious threat, but Hunter hated sympathy, so he denied it. “I’m fine.”<br />
<br />
Mystic regarded him with concern and shook her head in disbelieve. She didn’t believe for one minute that he was truly fine, but told him, “If you need anything, let me know.”<br />
<br />
Hunter winked at Mystic, hoping to lessen her worry. “Thanks. Catch you at the next war.” Mystic gave him a small but sweet smile as she turned her focus on the next Meat Eater in line.<br />
<br />
Mystic Jones, as the leader of the Meat Eater species, is responsible for each and everyone one of them. She made a mental note to check up on Hunter in a few weeks. That wink he gave her was not fooling her. Sensing a strong feeling of depression, she wasn’t going to let that go for long.<br />
<br />
As Hunter walked out of the Sphinx, he watched as Sat jumped up the minute he spotted him. Hunter felt like this was going to be a long week, and he wasn’t sure he could put up with Sat’s high level of energy. Then he heard Sat say, “Come on, we can get a ride on the war ships with the Plazies. Sap said he could drop us on the Eastern Shore.”<br />
<br />
Hunter smiled. “I have not seen Sap or Weeping in a few hundred years.”<br />
<br />
As they walked toward the war ships, Hunter thought about the Plazies. Sap and his wife, Weeping, are the leaders of the most unusual species, as far as Hunter was concerned. Hunter had heard that they now had a teenage daughter named Willow—he had also heard Willow was a handful. He could remember the first day he met the Plazies during one of the many wars in his lifetime. While walking next to Sat, Hunter gazed off in the distance as he remembered that day. He had walked onto one of the war ships to find no one on board, yet the ship was in operation with the precision of a well-organized team. He looked around, but stopped when he noticed a line of little sticks appearing before him, Plazies lined up on the ropes and rails. One of them started to talk, “Welcome Orion Hunter.”<br />
<br />
Hunter remembered his feeling of shock. Although he didn’t know what part shocked him more: the stick knowing his full name or that a stick was actually speaking. He had found himself staring at thousands of sticks shaped like humans. They ranged from 5-inches to 6-inches tall and looked like all different types of wood. As a woodworker in his youth and a construction company owner in today’s world, Hunter knew his timber.<br />
<br />
Hunter figured the look of shock showed on his face when Sap laughed and explained, “We are magic wood splinters and are what keep the old warships afloat. We are, for the most part, harmless, but we are not without ways to protect ourselves. Moving fast, it looks like we just appear and disappear, and this speed allows us to operate different areas of the ship quickly. We come from all different woods, hence the reason we all look different.”<br />
<br />
Being brought out of his thoughts by Sat’s voice, Hunter heard, “Hunter, they’re waiting for us. Let’s go.” Hunter felt the muscle in his shoulders tighten at Sat’s enthusiastic tone. He really was not in a party mood, and until now didn’t realize he had lagged behind.<br />
<br />
As they boarded the warships, Hunter saw Sap and walked up to him to say hi when he noticed something was wrong. “Sap, what has happened? Is everyone okay?”<br />
<br />
Sap turned and smiled, greeting his friend. “Hello Hunter. It’s been a long time, and yes, things will be fine.”<br />
<br />
Hunter curious asked, “Then why are the three of you so anxious?”<br />
<br />
Sap introduced his daughter. “Hunter, this is Willow, my daughter, and she faces a task that has her worried.”<br />
<br />
Hunter put his pinkie finger down to shake hands and told Willow, “Willow, if I can help, you need only ask.”<br />
<br />
Willow looked worried as she said, “Not unless you can undo my teenage misbehaving and what I thought to be harmless pranks.”<br />
<br />
Hunter looked at her with concern. “I hear an apology is owed. Am I correct?”<br />
<br />
Willow, in tears now, turned as she noticed the warships headed out of the delta and to the open seas. “Hunter, it is more than just an apology. I was awful to Creature, and I thought they were just harmless jokes … but a good man may die because of me.”<br />
<br />
Hunter thought a minute. “Wait, could you be talking about Creature Notte?”
Willow looked up with a bit of hope that maybe he could help. “Yes, do you know her?”<br />
<br />
Hunter smiled. “As a matter of fact, I have worked with Creature off and on for a few hundred years. If there is one thing she is, it’s understanding. I think if you just come clean and be sincere, she will see her way to forgive you. Now, what is this about a man dying?”<br />
<br />
Willow, still not fully convinced everything would be okay, sniffled, “That is the whole problem, I have to take Creature on a quest to become one with Deciding Island, and if I fail and she does not go … then Mica Sands will die.”<br />
<br />
Hunter asked, “Mica Sands. He’s an Infin right? But what does he have to do with Creature?”<br />
<br />
Willow was still crying, and trying to talk. “They are in love. They are mates, and now they could lose each other because of me.”
<br />
<br />
Hunter looked over at Sap for more clarity. Sap explained, “Mica was horribly wounded, and if Creature does not become one with Deciding Island, he will die. The only way to save him is if the Island does it … and because of Willow’s behavior, Gaia the Island’s spirit has said that is it up to Willow to take Creature on this quest into the Black Heart forest.”<br />
<br />
Willow cried out, “She is punishing me.”<br />
<br />
Sap walked over and put his arm around his daughter. “She is not punishing you; she is teaching you. Now go with your mother.”<br />
<br />
Hunter, Sat, and Sap watched as the two disappeared, then Sap spoke, “It is nice to see you again, but I must get to my post. We will be dropping the two of you off at Eastern Shore. If I don’t see you before you leave, goodbye.”<br />
<br />
Hunter gave his best smile, hoping to cheer Sap a little. He could see the worry on Sap’s face. “Goodbye, Sap. See you at the next war.”<br />
<br />
The rest of the trip Sat and Hunter watched the ocean go by, and, from time to time, would notice dolphins and whales playing in the ship’s wake.<br />
<br />
After reaching land at Eastern Shore, Hunter and Sat turned to wave at the Plazies. Hunter watched the old warship head back out to sea. It was so surreal in its beauty, yet it demanded the respect of an ancient warrior. Sat looked over at Hunter. “Hey, what is up with you lately? You’re always dazing off ... Oh no … you’re not getting depressed are you?” Sat was now worried about his friend. Hunter looked at Sat and thought, <em>Great, now I have to put up with his enthusiasm </em>and <em>pity, what a week this is going to be.</em><br />
<br />
Hunter thought about it and decided that maybe he was a little more depressed than he was letting himself realize. “Hunter, look at me and tell me that you’re not getting depressed.”<br />
<br />
Hunter looked at his friend. “I wish I could, but I’m thinking that maybe I am getting just a little depressed. After all, how long can a man go without the love of a mate? And how old am I?” They didn’t really keep a close watch on time; the question was purely hypothetical. Hunter was not waiting for an answer, just making a point. Sat knew Hunter was older than he was.<br />
<br />
Sat had been around for four hundred plus years.
Sat slapped Hunter on the shoulder reassuring him, “That will be our goal then, to find you a mate, and soon.” Hunter just smiled and kept walking.
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-34541805328177658012015-06-30T19:06:00.000-06:002015-06-30T19:06:06.000-06:00SMASHMOUTH RELEASE BLITZ!<span style="font-size: large;">I could not be more excited to feature this new release! Who hasn't rocked out to the music of Smash Mouth?! Now you can go behind the music with a band that carried the spirit of a generation in Walkin' on the Sun; The Official Smash Mouth Biography. </span>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFDCZrV9EL6yVigyutuwImgcoKH8M5w6-LGoE9XJ44zQiejzhF7DSB044KGkf_6ML4u59VUF4CiJfsWPnwg3VOUst8xIBYVzQCGB7G-Iu89iyxLRJMmRszCoQ0tDcbXisWyeRDXjfN3Piq/s1600/Walking-in-the-Sun-6x9_Ebook_B%2526N.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFDCZrV9EL6yVigyutuwImgcoKH8M5w6-LGoE9XJ44zQiejzhF7DSB044KGkf_6ML4u59VUF4CiJfsWPnwg3VOUst8xIBYVzQCGB7G-Iu89iyxLRJMmRszCoQ0tDcbXisWyeRDXjfN3Piq/s320/Walking-in-the-Sun-6x9_Ebook_B%2526N.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Blurb: </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 20px; text-align: start;">Hello. My name is Paul DeLisle. I’m the guy who wrote this book. You've probably never heard of me. That's okay. Most people wouldn't know me from Adam. But, unless you've been living in a cloistered monastery for the last fifteen years, you have heard of my band</i><span style="background-color: #fcfcfc; color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small; line-height: 20px; text-align: start;">.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 20px;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
<span style="background-color: #fcfcfc; color: #333333; line-height: 20px; text-align: start;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So begins the memoir of the creation, rise, and current state of the multi-platinum recording artist Smash Mouth as told by bassist Paul DeLisle. Well known for their hits “All Star,” “Walking on the Sun,” “Then the Morning Comes,” “Can’t Get Enough of You Baby,” and “I’m a Believer,” the band carried the spirit of a generation, but didn't stop there. Enjoy this behind-the-scenes look from Paul’s unique, there from the start, insider’s view.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc2ZPPQ_-RgGIBLD6OmchTJvyMcx4enQEm-ZuSiJRTpFaMDBu8cmA0KqK-RdgdOAGOzMKLZ8_PteiPdo9p-MPo-2du58qaIMq-W8MjdJ08W4L91hUsQZVzkOBjnUdxjBeBdCIHavXIqypx/s1600/11085839_804237166326713_144487681_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc2ZPPQ_-RgGIBLD6OmchTJvyMcx4enQEm-ZuSiJRTpFaMDBu8cmA0KqK-RdgdOAGOzMKLZ8_PteiPdo9p-MPo-2du58qaIMq-W8MjdJ08W4L91hUsQZVzkOBjnUdxjBeBdCIHavXIqypx/s320/11085839_804237166326713_144487681_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt:</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">There's an episode of Cheers where washed-up ball player Sam Malone, frustrated with either Diane or Rebecca, proclaims, "Y'know, most people don't know this ... but I’m famous!"</span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">I love that line. I can totally relate. You see, I am a founding and continued member of the band Smash Mouth. Yet I am, proudly and alas, the bass player. I’m not famous. My band is.</span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">From the beginning, Smash Mouth was set up as a democracy between four musicians and a manager, each player having an equal voice on band matters. Yet we were all fully aware and accepting of the fact that, as lead singer/frontman, Steve Harwell would be getting a disproportionate amount of attention. Seeing as he is the face and mouthpiece of Smash Mouth, you may be a little disappointed he didn't write this book.</span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">But stay with me here. Because as you'll see, I have a unique vantage point: as one of only four original constituents, I’ve been involved in every aspect of the band since day one. Only Steve and I have trod every step of this Smash Mouth journey. Also, while traditionally under-recognized, the bass player himself sees everything. Plus I went to college. Who better to write a book about Smash Mouth?</span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">That said, keep in mind this book is solely from my point of view. Steve, Greg, Kevin, and Robert would obviously have different takes on certain events. However, this book is simply intended as a comprehensive account of our rise to fame and continued success.</span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">So without further ado ... here’s what happened:</span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>EEP!!! How awesome is that! Pick up your copy of Walkin' on the Sun today and get your own "backstage pass" to the world of Smash Mouth! </b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Buy Links: </b></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Amazon-<a href="http://tinyurl.com/pzojvsd" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">http://tinyurl.com/<wbr></wbr>pzojvsd</a></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Barnes and Noble-<a href="http://tinyurl.com/p4f3n8g" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">http://tinyurl.com/<wbr></wbr>p4f3n8g</a></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Smashmouth-<a href="http://tinyurl.com/opy9kgv" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">http://tinyurl.com/<wbr></wbr>opy9kgv</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Brought to you by</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://anchorgrouppublishing.weebly.com/"><img alt="Banner" class="aligncenter wp-image-1242 size-large" height="237" src="https://2girlsandabook.files.wordpress.com/2015/06/banner.jpg?w=660" width="660" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://anchorgrouppublishing.us4.list-manage1.com/subscribe?u=b82e71e57626e261858017283&id=fc5b40bff1" target="_blank"> Subscribe to our Newsletter</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Follow Us on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/anchorgrouppublishing?fref=ts" target="_blank">Facebook</a>/<a href="https://twitter.com/Anchorgrouppub">Twitter</a>/<a href="https://instagram.com/anchorgrouppublishing/" target="_blank">Instagram</a>/<a href="http://anchorgrouppublishing.weebly.com/" target="_blank">Web</a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-32087670743494486022015-06-30T18:57:00.001-06:002015-06-30T18:57:11.740-06:00Home Is Where The Heart IsI haven't written a blog post since December. I know that I should have kept everyone up-to-date on everything that's been happening, but at times it was too hard to even keep my mind together to form a single coherent thought to express to all of you.<br />
<br />
But there's one thing I want to tell you all, and that's this.<br />
<br />
I'm safe.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
After almost two years of being homeless (living in my van, sleeping on friends couches, a brief moment when I thought things were going to be okay only to end up living in a tent) I am finally safe.<br />
<br />
I have an apartment now, and even though its barely furnished, it's home. It's home because I have my kids with me. It's home, because its a safety that I created that NO ONE can take away from me.<br />
<br />
The first night I had my children here I broke down crying, watching their beautiful faces as they slept. I had never felt more sure in anything in my life than in that moment. Everything that I had to risk, to sacrifice to get to THIS point, this moment was worth it. And even though two were sleeping on the couch while the other two were sleeping on my blow-up mattress and I still don't know if I'm going to be able to keep everything together from day to day, month to month, I know that I will still keep doing everything and anything I need to to keep my babies with me. To see their faces light up and their laughter ring out throughout the barren apartment as we play. To feel their little arms wrap around my neck and squeeze tightly as they tell me that they love me, or as my son randomly looks at me and smiles while saying 'we're your sweet babies, and you're our sweet mommy.'<br />
<br />
I'd go through it all over again just to feel this. Through the pain, the heartbreak, the utter terror of not knowing if I was going to survive another day. I'd live through each moment again just to have THIS outcome. Just to be able to hug them and tell them that I love them. To me, its the entire world. My world. My hope. My dreams all wrapped up in four little bodies.<br />
<br />
If there's one thing I can tell you, give you, from my experience with this, it's one absolutely critical thing: Never give up hope.<br />
<br />
You have the power within you to achieve everything your heart has ever desired as long as you're willing to release the fear that holds you down and block out the nay-sayers that tell you you can't. You have the ability to overcome ANYTHING that's thrown your way. You may break down. You may feel shattered, torn, worthless. But all of those emotions are fleeting, because at the core of you is a strength that NO ONE can take away.<br />
<br />
Never give up, never give in, and always throw your confetti.<br />
<br />
Even when you're down to your last dollar and you don't know where your next meal will come from, GIVE. Give hope to others. Happiness. Joy. Those are things that are freely given and that don't cost anything, yet you reap so much from it.<br />
<br />
When I had nothing, I gave everything. Now that I have something, let me give something back.<br />
<br />
I give to you guys my thanks, even though that doesn't seem like much. I give my thanks and undying loyalty and support to those who gave me strength when all I wanted to do was lay down and die. I give my love to every one of you who showed silent, and not so silent support. Most of all, I give my confetti to you. Through my experience, I hope that you learn. I hope that you take these words, my voice, and grow from it. That you achieve all that you set out to do. Even if the road is hard, broken, and unbearable at times, always know that you have me beside you.<br />
<br />
Believe in yourself, and you'll never be held down for long.<br />
<br />
With all my love, always,<br />
<br />
Your Confetti Queen.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-23117441476460030682014-12-04T16:18:00.001-07:002014-12-04T16:18:12.698-07:00Hanging Onto The Edge<div style="text-align: center;">
Take a deep breath.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Let it out.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Still the shaking leg.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Stop the counting.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You're fine.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You're going to be fine.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
When the panic hits, that's what I have to tell myself. Trying to calm the raging storm that's just below the surface, making me feel like my skin won't be able to hold me together. Like I'm suffocating, dying internally with so many emotions burning through me that I can't even grab hold of the ashes.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
It always starts with something that knocks me emotionally at my feet. Some days the little things don't bother me at all. Other times its like a physical blow, shattering everything that I try to hold on to with everything I have. The depression sets in, and I build up my walls more, trying to cope with it. I tell myself everything will be okay eventually, because it has too, right? Things never stay the same. The world is constantly changing, and the most you can do is either move with it, or fight against it.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
After I feel somewhat calmer, then my manic side kicks in. The uncontrollable anger, the rage. Snapping at the simplest comments. It gets to the point where I just want to hit things, throw things. Have the most epic of temper tantrums that would put even my kids to shame. But I don't, even though I want too. I bottle it up, keeping it inside and try to breathe through it. It won't stay forever. Just a temporary set back. I have to remind myself of that, and I have to push through it.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Now, I'm setting into the panic mode, where everything that has happened or could happen hits me at once, completely destroying the facade of calm that I present to even myself. It builds and builds to where I start shaking with it. My leg bounces without me even paying attention. Automatically my hand starts tapping on any surface near me, and I count mentally in my head. Then it becomes overwhelming. The panic. The fear. The drowning sadness. Your body starts to curl into itself, as if placing itself in the fetal position can keep your mind from attacking itself. As if it can stop the memories, the flood of past pain that mixes with current ones until you're deaf to your own screaming.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
For those of you who think that depression, anxiety, PTSD, bi-polar or anything else is just a figment of your mind, its just a call for attention or being weak, then I hope that you never have to live with it. I hope that you never have to face the complete horror that has become your own mind, something that you can never escape from.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And to those like me and so many others who are struggling everyday just to stay above the waterline, I want you to do something for me. Just breathe. This too shall pass, and we'll live to fight another day, and over time it will become easier, even if it never does go away.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
With love, Always.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-41605755617609925292014-12-01T20:45:00.002-07:002014-12-01T20:46:11.929-07:00Some Things Are Harder Than It SeemsIt's terrifying to be in the eye of social media. So many people come to my Facebook page to read my posts, and through me revealing only a little of what I am, and have been going through they find the strength needed to keep pushing forward.<br />
<br />
I'm not doing this for glorification. I'm not doing this for pity or gain or whatever else you may think. I'm doing this for those who message/email/write me and let me know about their lives, their deepest darkest secrets, and through that small connection find the strength to continue on.<br />
<br />
I'm going to reveal EVERYTHING, and it scares the hell out of me.<br />
<br />
I'll start where every story starts, and that's at the very beginning.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
My name is Desiree Nicole DeOrto. I was born in Northridge, California, Los Angeles County. At the start, my parents were married, but that didn't last long. My father is a Vietnam Veteran, and through serving his country and almost being killed for it, he became and alcoholic with post-traumatic stress disorder. My mother came from a rather large family, most of which suffer from one form of depression or other psychiatric disorder.<br />
<br />
Needless to say, my mom and dad met, fell in 'love', had my brother, then had me. Normally this would be the part where people would talk about how great their childhood was, and how much their parents loved and cared about them. That isn't what happened in my case.<br />
<br />
My parents only stayed married for a number of years. My mother didn't turn into an alcoholic until they divorced, but my father was one well before then. I don't remember much about the early years. Maybe its because my brain decided to block a lot of it out to forget, but what I do remember is enough.<br />
<br />
I remember the screaming. I remember the yelling, the sobbing. How my mother would always claim that it was everyone else's fault that her life was so f*ed up. I remember the sound, the ferocious base yell of my father as he would call her nothing but a whore.<br />
<br />
When they divorced, my mother claimed that my father sexually abused me and my brother. Her family backed it up in court, and while I can't claim whether or not he did, it didn't matter then. Yes, my father was a 'bad man', but I still loved him. He was stripped of almost all parental rights, leaving him with minimal supervised visitation before he finally gave up and moved back to Indiana, leaving my brother and I with our mother, which wasn't necessarily a good thing.<br />
<br />
Being free of my father, my mother started drinking, popping pills and quickly became addicted to both and more. She bounced around from man to man, always seeking that ever elusive 'love', until they either didn't want her anymore, or she would up and leave for the 'next-best-thing'. The only problem was that her type of love isn't the normal, safe type.<br />
<br />
I almost think that she used to like being hit. That she actually enjoyed having a story to tell, a woe-begone tale of love and abuse, and then everyone would sit around her and say 'poor Susie' and she'd soak it up. So she jumped from bed to bed, from one abusive hand to an even more abusive hand.<br />
<br />
When I was six, we lived in a run down apartment complex. My mother and her then-current boyfriend were fighting. About what, I don't know. I watched as he backhanded her into the large dumpster. I remember the sound of her skull hitting the metal, and how he screamed at her, his fists flying. I remember the sound of my brothers voice as he screamed for our mother. And I remember how, even though I knew that I'd be beaten again, that I had to do something.<br />
<br />
When the cops came, my mother had a smile on her face, as did her boyfriend. They stood in the doorway with me, their hands digging into my shoulders to the point where I wanted to cry, and how I had to look up at the cops, wanting help, <i>needing</i> them to stop it all, and I had to lie. I had to tell them that they didn't fight. That I just thought they did because he broke my moms necklace. I remember the look in the cops eyes, and how he practically begged me to tell him the truth, but I had to remain silent.<br />
<br />
I stayed silent through it all, forced into the perpetual fear that if I spoke up, if I said even one word that it would be worse for me. No one was going to come save me. <i>No one</i> would ever <i>see</i> the truth behind the lies. And no one would care. It went on like that for years.<br />
<br />
Finally, my mother married again, this time to a man that, after he quit drinking (which wasn't until years later), I actually loved and considered my dad. He was my best friend in the end, but it didn't start out like that. Bill was a construction worker and a plumber. He had a son named Merle, who was only a little bit older than me. Merle had leukemia, and was in and out of the hospital. We'd get him every other weekend, and I loved those weekends because that was the only time when we wouldn't be hit. It was the only time when my brother wouldn't run away, and would never take me no matter how much I begged him too.<br />
<br />
I had to be perfect. In my mind, there was no other way to deal with it all. If I was better, smarter, more beautiful, practiced my singing and my art until my voice and my fingers bled, then maybe my mother would love me. Maybe then she would be the mom, would take care of me instead of Bill having to wake me up in the wee hours of the morning, making me drag my overweight mother to her room to get her dressed while she sang songs that her and my aunts used to sing as a child.<br />
<br />
It went on like that for years. Me being silent, being the mother to my mother and my brother. Trying to make sure that everything was clean to my step-fathers ideals in order to not be beaten, but then to know that no matter what he'd always find an issue. He'd always have to 'discipline', and my mother would always be standing there, watching it all with a small smile on her face.<br />
<br />
My father began getting visitations with us over the summer. Every summer, my brother and I would fly from California to Indiana and spend almost two months free of it all. Though it never all went away, not always. To say that my father was a 'tough-love' kind of man is like calling a tiger just a cat. There was no half-ways with him. During the day things would be great. We'd be trained to ride equestrian or spend the day from sun-up to sun-down swimming in the local pool. When night came around, the bottle would go up, and I would become my mom in my father's eyes. He never hit me, but sometimes words are the cruelest weapon of all.<br />
<br />
I was a whore, a bitch. Just like my mother. No good trash that didn't even deserve the right to breathe. Then he would stumble off to bed, and in the morning we'd both act like nothing ever happened. I stayed silent, and I smiled. I laughed and I played. Pretending to be fine was second nature to me by then, and over time I forgot that I didn't have to be silent.<br />
<br />
Years went by much in the same way, until my brother Merle died. That same summer we went to my fathers in Indiana, but we never returned to California.<br />
<br />
Bill and my mother separated, and in her drunken brilliance she decided to move to Kansas, where her father lived. When the time came for my brother and I to go 'home', we were driven there to our new 'house', though house isn't what I would use to describe it.<br />
<br />
It was run down and filthy with dirty, stained floors, holes in the walls and the unforgettable smell of misuse and decay that almost foretells the sense of hopelessness. I was in fifth grade at the time, and starting a new school. Its not like I wasn't used to it. Through my mothers escapades we had jumped ship so many times that I lost track of how many schools I had actually been too. But Kansas was a lot different from California, so the culture shock of it was something new.<br />
<br />
Without my dad to actually keep her somewhat in check, my mom went wild. Binge drinking, partying, drying to 'drown' her sorrows because I didn't know what her life was like and she <i>deserved</i> to drink. She <i>deserved</i> to have that release, and all the while I would have to stay there and take care of her. And by stay there I mean send my brother off to school, and make sure that when my mom upended a bottle of pills, trying in vain to kill herself that I was there to shove my fingers down her throat to make her throw them back up.<br />
<br />
After awhile, she started sleeping around. One drunken night she slept with a military man. I don't remember what his name was, but everyone just called him green bean. When the harsh reality of morning came, instead of saying that she was stupid and shouldn't have slept with him, she called rape and had him arrested. She called my father, sobbing on the phone saying that she couldn't take care of my brother and I anymore, that he needed to come and get us, the blizzard that was moving in be damned.<br />
<br />
And he did. Right after having teeth surgically removed, bloody gauze still in his mouth, he drove through a blizzard to come get the two of us. When he came up to the door, my mother opened it and punched him right in the face, screaming about how everything was his fault because he abused her back in the day. I don't know if he did anything to her or not at that moment, all I know is that he took my brother and left, leaving me behind. Not even an hour later the cops were at the door, arresting my falling-down-drunk mother while I stood on the sidewalk, freezing in my threadbare clothes and watched it all.<br />
<br />
I was taken to the police station where a social worker was waiting for me. My brother was already there, separated from my father. Once my brother and I were in the room together with the social worker, we were given a choice. Either stay in Kansas with my grandparents until my mother was released then go back to California with her, go to Indiana with my father, or be placed into foster homes.<br />
<br />
I didn't want to go, but I didn't want to stay. I was almost eleven and I wanted to be free of it all. Except I couldn't be free. I had made a promise to my brother that wherever he went, I would go. We were supposed to protect each other, look out for each other because we didn't have anyone to do it for us. He wanted to go with my father, and nothing I said would change his mind, so I remained silent.<br />
<br />
To Indiana we went. The beatings stopped, which was good. We also got to eat our fill, had clean, new clothes for the first time and never had to worry about being eaten by bugs. But that's where the difference stops.<br />
<br />
A lot of people don't put much clap into emotional abuse. They say things like 'suck it up' or 'build me a bridge and get the f* over it', but it's never that easy. You can't just STOP caring. You can't just wake up one day and say, 'Oh, you know what? I'll just not give a sh*t about what people say about me, about what my father screams at me.'<br />
<br />
That's not how it works. Emotional abuse is a slow poison, silently creeping over your mind until it holds it hostage in its hands. Until the day comes when it's not just people on the <i>outside</i> saying you're fat, stupid, ugly, a whore. It's when those words, so simply cruel, become a part of your thought process. It's when YOU start seeing yourself through the nefarious eyes of others. It's more damaging than being hit, because the effects last longer. Bruises heal, bones nit back together, but the remaining emotional scarring stays with you forever.<br />
<br />
Thus began our 'new' life. My brother wasn't really involved with that part. He would go off with his new friends and hang out at different places, leaving me to deal with the downfall. And there was plenty of it. I learned early not to cry around my father. It didn't help, and it made everything worse. So I would stand there, just listening to him. <i>Hearing</i> how much he hated me because I reminded him so much of my mother. He never saw me for me. None of them did. All they saw was a reflection of my mother, even though I was nothing like her.<br />
<br />
At that time, when I was going through puberty, is when my manic-depression started to kick in. I was the silent girl, the one easily bullied until I couldn't control my rage anymore. I'd snap, getting into constant fights with guys and girls alike, never being able to control the darkness that was raging within me just below the surface. Uncontrollable, un-tameable. Terrifying.<br />
<br />
My father got tired of it, and thought that the problem was because we were in Indianapolis, and thought that we'd be better suited for the country life so moved us down to Southern Indiana.<br />
<br />
A new school, a new start. Only some things aren't so easy to sweep under the rug.<br />
<br />
My brother started rumors about my. My own brother who I swore to protect, who I had stuck by and saved so many times turned on me because he thought I was my mothers and fathers favorite. He thought that if he told everyone I was a slut, dogged me down until I was nothing more than pond scum beneath his feet that everyone would know that he was the best. That he was far better than his worthless, stupid, ugly fat whore of sister.<br />
<br />
I still smiled. Even when I cried I didn't make a sound, and no one could tell the difference. I was 14, and I began self-mutilating.<br />
<br />
When I couldn't cry anymore is when it started. The silent tears wouldn't fall. No matter how much I screamed, how much I begged for that numbing emotional relief, release wouldn't come until I <i>made</i> it come. How do you bring tears? With pain.<br />
<br />
I started out by beating my legs with a metal pole. The tears would flow, I'd only have a bruise that I could easily dismiss, and I'd feel better for a little while. But it didn't last long. Soon after I began cutting. It didn't matter if it was in school, at home. When the urge for the release came, when I couldn't hold 'it' in anymore I had to cut. It became an obsession, that release. It also became something else to remain silent about, except I wasn't the only one remaining silent. My father and brother remained silent as well. That is, until the day came when my father in his drunken stupor told me that if I was going to kill myself that I shouldn't half-ass it and just cut my throat.<br />
<br />
So I went to the kitchen, grabbed a butcher's knife, kissed him softly on his bald spot on my way to my room, and did as he said.<br />
<br />
He shipped me off to my mom's, because he couldn't deal with me anymore.<br />
<br />
My mom and dad were sober by then. They both found out that they had Hepatitis C, and that drinking would kill them. Wisely, they stopped drinking. But that didn't help my relationship out with my mother. It turned out that drinking actually took the edge off of her worse sickness, her mental sickness. Munchhausen Syndrome.<br />
<br />
She had a manic-depressive, suicidal daughter, and it was the perfect topping on her already large pity party to gain the attention and pity that she needed. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. She started researching different psychological medications, focusing on the side effects. The ones that had the worst, that had the highest rating of teen suicide. And when she found the ones she preferred, she'd find a psychiatrist who was stupid enough to listen to her and prescribe them to me. Over the course of three years, I was hospitalized for suicide twelve times. From the ages of 14-17, I wanted to die.<br />
<br />
I didn't want to die because I couldn't 'handle' it anymore. I didn't want to die because I was sad and couldn't get over it, or because I was selfish. I wanted to die because I <i>believed</i> that the world would be better off without me. I <i>believed</i> that everyone I loved, and everyone that I would ever run across in the remainder of my life would be better, happier without my existence. That poison of mental abuse had taken over so much, mixing so perfectly with the PTSD and manic depression that I saw no hope for myself. I saw no hope that I could ever benefit anyone else's life, that I could ever enhance it.<br />
<br />
I was toxic. I was poison. I was the reason why my father and mother drank, why my brother hated me, why I was bullied to the point that people put empty pill bottles in my school locker. I was the reason for the suffering of the world, and the world would be a much better place without me.<br />
<br />
The psychiatrists and mental institutes eventually caught on to my mother. When I was 17 I committed suicide for the final time by overdosing on 180,000 milligrams of Dilantin. By the time my dad found me in my room, the medicine was so far gone in my system that they couldn't pump my stomach. They couldn't use charcoal because the medicine had infused with my red blood cells.<br />
<br />
They hooked me up to life support, and they waited for me to die.<br />
<br />
Only, I didn't.<br />
<br />
When I woke up from the coma, I couldn't walk. My equilibrium was so messed up that I couldn't even stand up. It took me 2 months to learn how to walk again, and another month in the mental institute until I was declared fit enough to return to society.<br />
<br />
When I got home, I quit taking all of my medicine. When I got home, I also left my mother, choosing to go back to my father.<br />
<br />
I won't go into vivid detail about the rest of the time from the ages of 17 until now. Those past ten years are too long to cover all in one post, but I will tell you the gist of it all.<br />
<br />
When I was 15 I was given the choice of either dropping out of school, or being expelled because there was no such thing as gang violence or bullying in their school. I dropped out and went to an alternative school to keep going for my high school diploma.<br />
<br />
While at the alternative school, I was sexually molested by another student. As my mother and I were on the way to the cops, she thought it was a good idea to tell his best friend where we were going. Even though he admitted it to the cops, they couldn't press charges because by the time they got to the school to interview other students, his best friend had already warned them and they concocted a story. He was later arrested for raping a 13 year old.<br />
<br />
No longer caring for school, I got my G.E.D. from the state of Missouri. I was 15.<br />
<br />
At 18 I decided to join the Army, and beforehand I went to an alternative school here in Indiana and got the 22 credits I needed to graduate in 2 months, proceeded to join the army, then ended up with a lesion in my L4 vertebrae, which lead to a prompt discharge.<br />
<br />
I've been raped 8 times. Because of that I have issues with any form of physical touch. Sometimes I can't even hug my children because of it, which makes me feel like the worst mother in the world.<br />
<br />
I have had 4 children, and was a stay at home mom for the majority of five years, going to college at 2 different times in between, but never actually being able to graduate.<br />
<br />
Last year, I published my first book, and through it I broke free of all the mental barriers that my family and my so-called friends put on me. For the first time in my life, I wasn't useless. I wasn't pathetic. I actually <i>did</i> something for once (for more details, read <a href="http://desireedeorto.blogspot.com/2013/06/its-done.html" target="_blank">here</a>).<br />
<br />
Last year, I lost everything just when I thought that I had gained everything. In one moment, not only did I lose my home, my kids and my life, but I also lost my identity (for further explanation, read <a href="http://desireedeorto.blogspot.com/2013/08/a-look-behind-pages.html" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="http://desireedeorto.blogspot.com/2014/03/and-walls-come-tumbling-down.html" target="_blank">here</a>)<br />
<br />
But, through losing everything, I've also gained something equally valuable.<br />
<br />
I've remembered who I am. I have remembered that I do have a voice and that I don't have to remain silent any longer. I have not only faced myself and my darkest fears, my most horrendous secrets, but I have learned to love myself for all of it. For the scars, the pain, the past that I will never be able to change. Through it all, and because of it all, I have discovered <i>me</i>.<br />
<br />
So who am I to be there for everyone, listening to their histories, their pain while hiding behind my wall, my Confetti Queen image and never revealing my true self to you? How could I, in all fairness, not let you <i>see me.</i> The good, the bad, the terrifying.<br />
<br />
Because of seeing others strengths, and watching others grow and become unafraid just because they had someone to listen to them, and someone to understand, I have realized that it doesn't matter how scared I am. It doesn't matter how terrified I am of letting everyone in. Through all of your strength, I have found mine too.<br />
<br />
So I will tell you my only secret. The only thing that very few know about.<br />
<br />
A few months before I became homeless, before this giant challenge of fate started, I found out that I'm sick. When I was pregnant with my youngest, my urinalyses and blood tests kept coming back irregular. It wasn't preeclampsia or anything else that could go wrong during a pregnancy. It was my white blood cells. There was a thousand milligrams per cc. After I had her safely, even if still early, they ran even more tests. With the blood work and my families history, they discovered that I had cancer. That, in essence, I'm dying.<br />
<br />
This past August when I admitted myself to the local mental ward of the hospital because I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to withstand the constant urge to kill myself, I found out that the cells have tripled. They've increased dramatically in just one years time.<br />
<br />
But I refuse to die. I refuse to give in, or give up. Right now, not even two days old, I have <i>just</i> gotten out of being homeless, sharing a two-bedroom, run down apartment. I'm <i>finally</i> on my way. Through all of the tears, the pain, the utter fear and petrifying doubt that living through being homeless has given me, I'm finally succeeding.<br />
<br />
So I want to leave you all with this one, simple explanation.<br />
<br />
My confetti is the small moments of life that make everything worthwhile. Its the purest form of happiness that is always remembered, but too seldom come by.<br />
<br />
I throw my confetti to you, to ALL of you, in the hopes that I can impart some measure of happiness.<br />
<br />
Why would I want to spread happiness when seldom happiness was shown to me?<br />
<br />
Because I know what it's like to hurt.<br />
<br />
I know what its like to look into your future, and to see absolutely nothing staring back at you.<br />
<br />
I know what its like to wake up every day, forcing a smile when you have been left to die.<br />
<br />
And I know what it's like to feel like you're utterly alone, and like everyone you ever met has become your enemy.<br />
<br />
I would never want anyone to even feel an ounce the way that I have through my life. I don't want anyone to suffer, to hurt, to feel the unstoppable, all-consuming pain that mere existence can bring.<br />
<br />
So, I throw my confetti to you. I fight for you, along side you, and in the shadows with you.<br />
<br />
With love, Always.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-58175956938946230762014-11-08T05:00:00.000-07:002014-11-08T05:00:06.572-07:00Soul Journey Tour / Guest Post<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdprOyarTo-eoHvkkeHfwdnYnLXz9il3CQuo2HubWaahJfxNQ0slfNY5P9WXvie9H_ALV9YUKuBM_JdsdWTUki4VvJrseK_3-HJXB9rjcBs7mP0aB3Z3l2YDDjhuPph6owOB2zCIkhpxj/s1600/pizap.com14146952151791.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdprOyarTo-eoHvkkeHfwdnYnLXz9il3CQuo2HubWaahJfxNQ0slfNY5P9WXvie9H_ALV9YUKuBM_JdsdWTUki4VvJrseK_3-HJXB9rjcBs7mP0aB3Z3l2YDDjhuPph6owOB2zCIkhpxj/s1600/pizap.com14146952151791.jpg" height="131" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Book Title:</b> <i>Soul Journey</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Series:</b> Soul Series book 1<br />
<b>Author:</b> Miranda Shanklin<br />
<b>Release Date:</b> August 31, 2014<br />
<b>Presented by:</b> <a href="http://asyouwishtours.com/">As You Wish Tours</a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlf-_rvxrF-HU9qQQnNqcnClDPQMXSZUV7lTeDkRFIB8rXCJrhyGjMh0EoUyOVxdZURyVDlMF_lhEzzJVqsK-BzqpiCV4xqxQTt3TG2vV_JwpEGVw9IZOn-D6m6TV-9Q7UUJE7kUtBwvzy/s1600/91dxaIA6UrL._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlf-_rvxrF-HU9qQQnNqcnClDPQMXSZUV7lTeDkRFIB8rXCJrhyGjMh0EoUyOVxdZURyVDlMF_lhEzzJVqsK-BzqpiCV4xqxQTt3TG2vV_JwpEGVw9IZOn-D6m6TV-9Q7UUJE7kUtBwvzy/s1600/91dxaIA6UrL._SL1500_.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It has been many lifetimes since the cycle began. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The cycle that still haunts Annisa Lawson. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A spell cast in desperation to help, which only caused heartache. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Now, Annisa has found her way out of the varying repeats of her past; only to bring more danger to herself, and those around her. Now she must learn to survive with the help of her friends: Chase, Penelope, and Landon have all gone through each life cycle with Annisa. Sometimes helping, sometimes hindering. Now that Annisa has broken the cycle of their collective punishment, she finds that she needs her friends more than ever to keep their enemies, known, and unknown, at bay. As the group of friends learn of their souls' journeys through their many life cycles, they must also learn to control the magick they have discovered within themselves and each other, in order to defeat the most feared assassin in their world. </div>
<div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gfvY8S30as44umJktW_sIiStrzpfK6Jk9UfT2tfXslH0BS1vNo4NnILwn-zMY4xIIizPx8uR8r4s6G7Fi4gMJMziy7N-D5IKTS9vQ0xhFiU8Vk-bgi5Y-aUPbdQXg5OejhpJCDp47VnB/s1600/Triquetra-coeur-noeud-celtique-triangle-amoureux-.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gfvY8S30as44umJktW_sIiStrzpfK6Jk9UfT2tfXslH0BS1vNo4NnILwn-zMY4xIIizPx8uR8r4s6G7Fi4gMJMziy7N-D5IKTS9vQ0xhFiU8Vk-bgi5Y-aUPbdQXg5OejhpJCDp47VnB/s1600/Triquetra-coeur-noeud-celtique-triangle-amoureux-.png" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/3YxaaGgTQYM" width="560"></iframe>
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>EVANESCENCE – Bring me to Life</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
How can you see into my eyes like open doors?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Leading you down into my core where I've become so numb</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Without a soul my spirit's sleeping somewhere cold</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Until you find it there and lead it back home</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Wake me up)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Wake me up inside</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(I can't wake up)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Wake me up inside</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Save me)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Call my name and save me from the dark</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Wake me up)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bid my blood to run</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(I can't wake up)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Before I come undone</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Save me)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Save me from the nothing I've become</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Now that I know what I'm without</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You can't just leave me</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Breathe into me and make me real</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bring me to life</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Frozen inside without your touch</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Without your love, darling</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Only you are the life among the dead</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
All this time I can't believe I couldn't see</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Got to open my eyes to everything</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Don't let me die here</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There must be something more</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bring me to life</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Wake me up)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Wake me up inside</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(I can't wake up)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Wake me up inside</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Save me)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Call my name and save me from the dark</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Wake me up)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bid my blood to run</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(I can't wake up)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Before I come undone</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Save me)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Save me from the nothing I've become</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bring me to life</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(I've been living a lie, there's nothing inside)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bring me to life</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
A<a href="https://draft.blogger.com/null" name="h2_28"></a>bout the Author</h2>
<div class="imgcenter">
<!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype
id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600" o:spt="75" o:preferrelative="t"
path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" filled="f" stroked="f">
<v:stroke joinstyle="miter"/>
<v:formulas>
<v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"/>
</v:formulas>
<v:path o:extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect"/>
<o:lock v:ext="edit" aspectratio="t"/>
</v:shapetype><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_1" o:spid="_x0000_i1025" type="#_x0000_t75"
alt="Author" style='width:187.5pt;height:141pt;visibility:visible;
mso-wrap-style:square'>
<v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Users\User\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.jpg"
o:title="Author"/>
</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHVgTNCqWZEzBa9ek1ubo3tUkiCwSkms8_20m_QJKwFb7qg71-f_T-BEBZPUQdvoGLPqvnymfenWXLMfHkZvyNznaZTelyAHnJz8Sa6Cnk7z59rS3JZuLGQyc_Nh1hNjL25Yr8pNZvgHmS/s1600/475d7995e4530a7e9d9a6c.L._V326565659_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHVgTNCqWZEzBa9ek1ubo3tUkiCwSkms8_20m_QJKwFb7qg71-f_T-BEBZPUQdvoGLPqvnymfenWXLMfHkZvyNznaZTelyAHnJz8Sa6Cnk7z59rS3JZuLGQyc_Nh1hNjL25Yr8pNZvgHmS/s1600/475d7995e4530a7e9d9a6c.L._V326565659_.jpg" height="112" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="block">
Miranda Shanklin resides in Central Illinois with her husband
and their two children. When she is not working at her day job as a paralegal,
running her children to practices or supporting them at events she is writing.
She has been an avid reader most of her life and has always dreamed of writing
her own books someday. Now that her children are reaching their teenage years
she is finding the time to sit down and chase her dream.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="block">
Miranda loves to hear your opinions and uses the feedback to
improve. You can find her on Facebook at <a href="http://www.facebook.com/mirandashanklinauthor">www.facebook.com/mirandashanklinauthor</a>
or email her at <a href="mailto:mlshanklin@gmail.com">mlshanklin@gmail.com</a>.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Book Links</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Soul-Journey-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00N7T7CX4/ref=la_B00N7X1LMI_1_2_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1414696656&sr=1-2" target="_blank">Amazon</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/soul-journey-miranda-shanklin/1120257152?ean=2940046144666" target="_blank">B&N</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/472335" target="_blank">Smashwords</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23160203-soul-journey?from_search=true" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Author Links</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Miranda-Shanklin/e/B00N7X1LMI/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1" target="_blank">Amazon</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/miranda-shanklin" target="_blank">B&N</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/mlshanklin" target="_blank">Smashwords</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8526541.Miranda_Shanklin?from_search=true" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.facebook.com/mirandashanklinauthor" target="_blank">Facebook</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
CChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247134270404943012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-10603563903973669132014-11-03T10:22:00.003-07:002014-11-03T10:25:00.392-07:00Kissing Trouble Blog Tour @AirickaPhoenix @Morgana_Phoenix<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Z85clP21USozrpUTmZSOaGSAjjW-p4-2lRB8KoXVGnmPtj3eY9AQpcPiEzZ2Wi-NAYD-6v__UsIQqk4henToNvjiOUEljBlpyyGbwC0OgJVPx_QBKAQJqT9CYHLU2QEH96T6xVZYbXI/s1600/Kissing+Trouble+Tour+Banner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Z85clP21USozrpUTmZSOaGSAjjW-p4-2lRB8KoXVGnmPtj3eY9AQpcPiEzZ2Wi-NAYD-6v__UsIQqk4henToNvjiOUEljBlpyyGbwC0OgJVPx_QBKAQJqT9CYHLU2QEH96T6xVZYbXI/s1600/Kissing+Trouble+Tour+Banner.jpg" height="147" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Title: Kissing Trouble (In The Dark Series, #2)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Author: Morgana Phoenix </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Genre: Psychological Thriller Romance</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Warning: Strong language and sexual content</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Hosted by: <a href="http://ambersupernaturalandya.blogspot.com/p/lady-amber-tours.html">Lady Amber's Tours</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqOG6REHdmB0l9fAVR3u4oUhlz6WCaNj8VmMvrM6CExnzxubRiCJ1sINf-3-SBhyphenhyphen8QTkTYOaZC4iW9Gs3hqP2cIslcwxgyeaRKujgn9jj8WAPSoMwu_TIREWYngqAB7m-N6BwY1ckql8U/s1600/KT+Cover.jpg"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqOG6REHdmB0l9fAVR3u4oUhlz6WCaNj8VmMvrM6CExnzxubRiCJ1sINf-3-SBhyphenhyphen8QTkTYOaZC4iW9Gs3hqP2cIslcwxgyeaRKujgn9jj8WAPSoMwu_TIREWYngqAB7m-N6BwY1ckql8U/s1600/KT+Cover.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Blurb</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Their screams will be his lullaby.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Escaping into the wilderness should have been a piece of cake for a super-babysitter like Julie Brewer. But even she isn’t prepared for the horror awaiting their arrival, or the man who had broken her heart all those years ago to suddenly show up on the doorstep.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mason Brody has a plan and it is simple: wait for Julie to grow up. Yet in no way is he prepared for the fierce amazon who ambushes him with a baseball bat, or the way the shy fifteen year old has blossomed into a beautiful, passionate woman he can't get enough of.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But there is so much more than just their past between them. There is a dark force lurking in the shadows, waiting for the chance to appease its hunger for death and it will stop at nothing until it is fed.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Can Mason and Julie keep the evil at bay long enough to escape? Or will the monster add their lives to its list?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy_ia6D2UmcpOnQ7pNbuv17G9aJXicVZQk1463FKjae6eElvc8TRv2f1Sz65aF31XCe7cGss33DxhJRajJHWbh5AMPI_8DbhNroB-L2sdKbrr-WZHZkKALEl55VwGkSziBta67Ygv-Ouk/s1600/10714758_706533136097117_1163492114_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy_ia6D2UmcpOnQ7pNbuv17G9aJXicVZQk1463FKjae6eElvc8TRv2f1Sz65aF31XCe7cGss33DxhJRajJHWbh5AMPI_8DbhNroB-L2sdKbrr-WZHZkKALEl55VwGkSziBta67Ygv-Ouk/s1600/10714758_706533136097117_1163492114_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Author Bio</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhSNWcOR2Dvf1H0zxuVniJNMxzk7Lljy4qX9PXHfS-mUG6wam5crpJkVEDT3PuDKF5NUxqHA13m6WfFj1yldk2JDshbclp8JeKQwtXKzAPL_9S5aljY81YyDn6ceSr96V8JKsscaYEQA0/s1600/Airicka+Phoenix.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhSNWcOR2Dvf1H0zxuVniJNMxzk7Lljy4qX9PXHfS-mUG6wam5crpJkVEDT3PuDKF5NUxqHA13m6WfFj1yldk2JDshbclp8JeKQwtXKzAPL_9S5aljY81YyDn6ceSr96V8JKsscaYEQA0/s1600/Airicka+Phoenix.jpg" width="112" /></a>International Bestselling author Airicka Phoenix lives in a world where unicorns, fairies and mermaids run amok through her home on a daily basis. When she’s not chasing after pixies and rounding up imps, also known as her four children, she can be found conjuring up evil villains, bad-ass heroines and swoon-worthy heroes to play with. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Airicka is singlehandedly responsible for her greatly anticipated collections, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Airicka-Phoenix/e/B00906AGHM">the Touch Saga</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Airicka-Phoenix/e/B00906AGHM">The Lost Girl Duology</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Airicka-Phoenix/e/B00906AGHM">The Regeneration Series</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Airicka-Phoenix/e/B00906AGHM">Games of Fire</a> & <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Airicka-Phoenix/e/B00906AGHM">Betraying Innocence</a>. She also writes mature paranormal & contemporary romance under the dark guise of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Morgana-Phoenix/148839731972606?notif_t=page_new_likes">Morgana Phoenix</a>. To date, she is responsible for <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Airicka-Phoenix/e/B00906AGHM">the Sons of Judgment Saga</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Airicka-Phoenix/e/B00906AGHM">My Soul For You</a>, & <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Airicka-Phoenix/e/B00906AGHM">Kissing Trouble</a>.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Author Links:</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.airickaphoenix.com/">Website</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://eepurl.com/VgLqD">Newsletter</a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://ca.linkedin.com/pub/airicka-phoenix/40/432/74/">LinkedIn</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Facebook: </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/airicka.phoenix">Airicka</a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Airicka-Phoenix/252135634831614">Airicka Author Page</a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Morgana-Phoenix/148839731972606">Morgan Author Page</a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Airickas-Mystical-Creations/462373910480084">Airicka's Mystical Creations</a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/TheDarkCourt">The Dark Realm</a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/TouchSeriesByAirickaPhoenix">The Touch Saga Page</a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Twitter: </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://twitter.com/AirickaPhoenix">@AirickaPhoenix</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://twitter.com/AirickaPhoenix">@Morgana_Phoenix</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Goodreads: </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/AirickaPhoenix">Airicka</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/MorganaPhoenix">Morgana</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Google+</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://plus.google.com/u/0/101248439681101533712">Airicka</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://plus.google.com/115636000442414081509">Morgana</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://booktropoloussocial.com/index.php?do=/profile-941/">Booktropolous</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Book Pages:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Airicka-Phoenix/e/B00906AGHM">Amazon.com</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="amazon.cahttp://www.amazon.co.uk/Airicka-Phoenix/e/B00906AGHM">Amazon.ca</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="amazon.dehttp://www.amazon.de/Airicka-Phoenix/e/B00906AGHM">Amazon.de</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="amazon.frhttp://www.amazon.fr/Airicka-Phoenix/e/B00906AGHM">Amazon.fr</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="amazon.jphttp://www.amazon.co.jp/Airicka-Phoenix/e/B00906AGHM">Amazon.jp</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/airicka-phoenix">Barns & Nobles</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/airicka-phoenix/id562768863">iTunes</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.scribd.com/airicka6phoenix">Scribd</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.inktera.com/">Inktera</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAK4P6LUaCaF5Ps5TrOqMN1ZWHfPY1dbhh54Q1smjjEAj4mKPZkpQ1L1iURKaQuU0sHSCCFhrMpJUxgrL5A0TTq5ca79PcpPKP7TFzOuESAgRTuEjiovexyv2leVzsJzkOZulzzKB7bwE/s1600/10743486_720459898037774_1033486051_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAK4P6LUaCaF5Ps5TrOqMN1ZWHfPY1dbhh54Q1smjjEAj4mKPZkpQ1L1iURKaQuU0sHSCCFhrMpJUxgrL5A0TTq5ca79PcpPKP7TFzOuESAgRTuEjiovexyv2leVzsJzkOZulzzKB7bwE/s1600/10743486_720459898037774_1033486051_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Buy Links:</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://smarturl.it/KissingTrouble">Amazon</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">
</span></div>
<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F1.bp.blogspot.com%2F-cawJQRMZb5o%2FVFe3sN1CL3I%2FAAAAAAAAWhE%2Fu00FhumPsns%2Fs1600%2FAiricka%252BPhoenix.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhSNWcOR2Dvf1H0zxuVniJNMxzk7Lljy4qX9PXHfS-mUG6wam5crpJkVEDT3PuDKF5NUxqHA13m6WfFj1yldk2JDshbclp8JeKQwtXKzAPL_9S5aljY81YyDn6ceSr96V8JKsscaYEQA0/s1600/Airicka+Phoenix.jpg" --><!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F3.bp.blogspot.com%2F-tIKsvDzapU0%2FVFe3ssJpSjI%2FAAAAAAAAWhU%2FNo_gEHyOCrE%2Fs1600%2FKT%252BCover.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqOG6REHdmB0l9fAVR3u4oUhlz6WCaNj8VmMvrM6CExnzxubRiCJ1sINf-3-SBhyphenhyphen8QTkTYOaZC4iW9Gs3hqP2cIslcwxgyeaRKujgn9jj8WAPSoMwu_TIREWYngqAB7m-N6BwY1ckql8U/s1600/KT+Cover.jpg" -->CChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247134270404943012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-70413677133526621192014-10-19T05:00:00.000-06:002014-10-19T05:00:05.243-06:00The Parker Harris Series Tour <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrzBhXXpxeZDHMf9OvD8StkGHkHFhI-VvkEaDNuLhcb7lDkoyD8VXNsBx_Ca3dU3GZahuD2FR1hBmpaiaVgnsQyJlguSM-ERe1HSHzh_2RvKW_Ew2Hnhr4AH_uhdDjZOAMcyykvGttkXhE/s1600/bpizap.com14080173182821a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrzBhXXpxeZDHMf9OvD8StkGHkHFhI-VvkEaDNuLhcb7lDkoyD8VXNsBx_Ca3dU3GZahuD2FR1hBmpaiaVgnsQyJlguSM-ERe1HSHzh_2RvKW_Ew2Hnhr4AH_uhdDjZOAMcyykvGttkXhE/s1600/bpizap.com14080173182821a.jpg" height="147" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnEaoZG9E0Gk1QYgd84ElqCA1ktbZPEg47FXZV-xEs4pW_yAdC3syKfpjtJr9UmrcBzR5UTulwMs5nMo4IjGjnQW2N-HmVDqlhS7HKdaNwJ2S5SMwQDlNfSTiLTb_g1bVoE-60WTeBvbc/s1600/Mitchell+Bites+Parker+quote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnEaoZG9E0Gk1QYgd84ElqCA1ktbZPEg47FXZV-xEs4pW_yAdC3syKfpjtJr9UmrcBzR5UTulwMs5nMo4IjGjnQW2N-HmVDqlhS7HKdaNwJ2S5SMwQDlNfSTiLTb_g1bVoE-60WTeBvbc/s1600/Mitchell+Bites+Parker+quote.jpg" height="311" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Cascades of
Moonlight</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The Parker Harris Series Book 1<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Pages: 259</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Publication Date: May 13, 2012</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cascades-Moonlight-Parker-Harris-Book-ebook/dp/B008317UG0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1407946000&sr=8-1&keywords=Amy+McClung"></a><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cascades-Moonlight-Parker-Harris-Book-ebook/dp/B008317UG0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1407946000&sr=8-1&keywords=Amy+McClung">FREE</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi19FrstWRZZebGEOrnQRfoqZJHOO5rUKJErtfVSL0hdleyg5da5vr-E8Kiel7-6sDCpVA6XlphvcIe_4-Unhdqk5BiwIEwpKD_4vfSg9vn4N-69D8VFVVuoaf-K8A4zIPLYXkK4Aq_OwwS/s1600/71ouIXzW5qL._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi19FrstWRZZebGEOrnQRfoqZJHOO5rUKJErtfVSL0hdleyg5da5vr-E8Kiel7-6sDCpVA6XlphvcIe_4-Unhdqk5BiwIEwpKD_4vfSg9vn4N-69D8VFVVuoaf-K8A4zIPLYXkK4Aq_OwwS/s1600/71ouIXzW5qL._SL1500_.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
***UPDATED VERSION 07/11/13****</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Parker Harris was a normal
teenage girl with a normal teenage life. That was true until two years ago when
she was bitten by a werewolf, forcing her to endure the painful shifting each
month during the full moon. She has kept this secret from everyone she loves.
One day a stranger enters her small town and knows this secret. Nothing ever
happens in the small town of Cascade Idaho, and new people rarely move in, but
its Parker's senior year now and two new faces show up in town. Shortly after their arrival, there is a
brutal murder which becomes the first in Cascades history.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Dreams,
Spells, and Moonlit Tales </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The Parker Harris Series Book 2<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Pages: 278</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Publication Date: December 18, 2012</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dreams-Spells-Moonlit-Parker-Harris-ebook/dp/B00AQIHA6I/ref=pd_bxgy_kstore_text_z">$1.99</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZMkoVTCbqQk7c-ZRWuwQoKDBHzwcsjmQC3e77Cqil_TmGATNdILGQR1nhcfZ4P_b-xAC4D8YLtyG1MuW0EAIaAUUeim_Z0aNQZ3i6X5Kirp6kDr7CmCEOfKcxXxtmKA81_cQKoujq6F5n/s1600/71z9SeUT7QL._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZMkoVTCbqQk7c-ZRWuwQoKDBHzwcsjmQC3e77Cqil_TmGATNdILGQR1nhcfZ4P_b-xAC4D8YLtyG1MuW0EAIaAUUeim_Z0aNQZ3i6X5Kirp6kDr7CmCEOfKcxXxtmKA81_cQKoujq6F5n/s1600/71z9SeUT7QL._SL1500_.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a>Parker Harris desires a normal life, but it's just not in
the cards for her. Parker is a werewolf. She has been for three years now. It’s
the summer after she graduated high school and she is preparing for college. If
only grades and college classes were her only worries. Parker and Jackie are
trying to mend their fractured friendship from her betrayal. Jackie and
Mitchell are working on their relationship, fighting jealousy and trust issues
of their own. Quinn, a vampire, is the love of Parker’s life. He begins to look
into his family’s past and what he finds is not pretty. In fact, it could mean
the end for his relationship with Parker. A mistake from Parker's past is
revealed and proves to be more enormous than she realized. Dreams—Parker is
having dreams and visions of Will. She can’t decipher real from illusion it
seems. Spells—Charisma, a new friend to the group, brings magic into the fold.
Moonlit Tales—it seems that the full moon is not only a time for Parker to feel
the pain of shifting. It’s also a time for unexplained occurrences and secrets
being revealed. Can Parker and Quinn's love survive the obstacles they
encounter? Is Jackie trustworthy? Are Parker’s feelings for Mitchell becoming
too strong for her to ignore? Dreams, Spells, and Moonlit Tales summarize the
events of Parker's life in this book.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The Dark
Moon</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> The Parker Harris Series Book 3<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Pages: 251</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Publication Date: May 5, 2013</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Moon-Parker-Harris-Series-ebook/dp/B00COAT1SG/ref=pd_bxgy_kstore_text_y">$1.99</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSvYxqpB_xsQQA91xoMlP78rZaR8q65Rx-j1kVfKEoTrYrQyLgdqoSaCtSbn8FLJxGVcxqaKz7rZeNKY6qDPwrgaGXzdJPdlG_pLnhMNE6m5wiH6UOrMXf425E9_ZP-NRw0u1tjf7CsQkC/s1600/71Xh2x-xIfL._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSvYxqpB_xsQQA91xoMlP78rZaR8q65Rx-j1kVfKEoTrYrQyLgdqoSaCtSbn8FLJxGVcxqaKz7rZeNKY6qDPwrgaGXzdJPdlG_pLnhMNE6m5wiH6UOrMXf425E9_ZP-NRw0u1tjf7CsQkC/s1600/71Xh2x-xIfL._SL1500_.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This book picks up from
the moment we left off in book two. Quinn received a call from Parker stating
Will is alive. Quinn drops everything to rush to her aid. Will he make it in
time or will his father stop him? Parker and Mitchell's feelings are not going
away and they begin to take a toll on Mitchell's relationship with Jackie.
Everyone seems to have a secret they are keeping from Parker and it seems they
have feel "there's something she should know" and now is the time.
Parker is overwhelmed with all the new information coming her way. Parker's
secret life as a werewolf is on the brink of being exposed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The Cold Moon </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4666652679443px;">Novella</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The Parker Harris Series Book #3.5<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
YA Paranormal</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Releasing: Aug 22</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS4No9bzpgr-5Ed0i-ZOd-GsyKpkhYnK3wyUCtFf_HFu0Xl2dGathsC6dLACz-3J_DaDrN2sVmU5QY4_kY9r_gx6mp1LzQmBrhQd6ejnKz7SPLpEjjEJLA24ZwTQkkIoewF2OKCEhTpOoW/s1600/The+Cold+Moon+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS4No9bzpgr-5Ed0i-ZOd-GsyKpkhYnK3wyUCtFf_HFu0Xl2dGathsC6dLACz-3J_DaDrN2sVmU5QY4_kY9r_gx6mp1LzQmBrhQd6ejnKz7SPLpEjjEJLA24ZwTQkkIoewF2OKCEhTpOoW/s1600/The+Cold+Moon+Cover.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a>This is a story told from Mitchell's point of view. This is
Book 3.5 in The Parker Harris Series. This novella is broken into three parts:
The Change: In this portion we will learn what events happened leading to
Mitchell's change into a vampire and how he dealt with it. Lupita and Fangs:
The story of how their friendship blossomed into something more. What Happens
Next: The lead in to the spin-off series, The Crispin Sinclair Chronicles.
We'll learn what happened to the fab four after The Dark Moon ended. We'll also
meet a new character who will be pivotal to Crispin's story</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The
Shimmering Pool</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The Crispin Sinclair Chronicles Book #1 </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">(spin-off from Parker
Harris)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
YA Fantasy</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Releasing: Oct</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaKnoVmd7S5JTbp2paQN7ca9IvlWRDMPL-r1C807DnnUVvYol9g6VzGjtz5m_InXV33b7Iwj3rcZtym6AYYn4GcJn0TvFnMtT6UzLNVszzaIXZ4wFgFC-sQQCUaX-kmLcmTexZrV7fg2ez/s1600/CRISPIN+6X9+Front+Finished.tif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaKnoVmd7S5JTbp2paQN7ca9IvlWRDMPL-r1C807DnnUVvYol9g6VzGjtz5m_InXV33b7Iwj3rcZtym6AYYn4GcJn0TvFnMtT6UzLNVszzaIXZ4wFgFC-sQQCUaX-kmLcmTexZrV7fg2ez/s1600/CRISPIN+6X9+Front+Finished.tif" height="200" width="133" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Crispin Sinclair isn't your average teenage boy. He
inherited precognitive dreams from his mother who died during childbirth. His
other unique quality was inherited from his father; Crispin is a werewolf.
Growing up as a supernatural being in a world that doesn't know they exist is
difficult to say the least. Crispin's been lucky that his family is made up of
supernaturals; witches, vampires, and werewolves. As he begins to obtain his
werewolf abilities, his life will be thrown into turmoil placing everyone he
loves in danger.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Amytha Roberts feels like the most ordinary girl in the
world. She was adopted at age five but not by your traditional idea of parents;
her mom's a werewolf and her dad's a vampire. Amytha's best friend Crispin is a
werewolf with futuristic dream abilities, while she is a normal sixteen year
old girl surrounded by paranormal beings. Stories of Amytha's past begin to
surface causing her family to investigate more into where she came from.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Crispin and Amytha take turns telling this story of being in
a family that you choose, being abnormal in a normal world, and the importance
of friendship. Together they will go on adventures into a faraway place where
they'll encounter new creatures and discover truths they never imagined.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHZrvPUyBjJfNkfe3G6zMWExBB1z5O7cAAvEwieoB-084avjpm7mJvxAUvSQOfWpe4gOurEVu4HD0ECf6vRDPx5_1ebQ2YYtzk8M9YMPYhzKiGeSZQOAeMMqmLgcdZh6tUoeueGsHh8-c/s1600/Parker+Ad.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHZrvPUyBjJfNkfe3G6zMWExBB1z5O7cAAvEwieoB-084avjpm7mJvxAUvSQOfWpe4gOurEVu4HD0ECf6vRDPx5_1ebQ2YYtzk8M9YMPYhzKiGeSZQOAeMMqmLgcdZh6tUoeueGsHh8-c/s1600/Parker+Ad.png" height="258" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Author Bio</b></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxybvQDde1nlnk9CgB3Hhw7DPKxCEkL_jgWkufffSxhMaB4F3RP4bLmOTMBeUyddc3nzvTG9VaKv0uYTLbVzkf2YTv0CshBo_97kGDATnMmhwPGLMLPFAAyIHrFRW1SRy3XAI-_xQQV4OZ/s1600/Author.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxybvQDde1nlnk9CgB3Hhw7DPKxCEkL_jgWkufffSxhMaB4F3RP4bLmOTMBeUyddc3nzvTG9VaKv0uYTLbVzkf2YTv0CshBo_97kGDATnMmhwPGLMLPFAAyIHrFRW1SRy3XAI-_xQQV4OZ/s1600/Author.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
Amy McClung was born in Nashville, TN. She is the second oldest of four girls. She married Daniel McClung in September 2005 and they currently reside just outside of Nashville. She graduated from Father Ryan High School in 1996. In 2002 obtained her general certification in medical coding and billing and in 2009 she obtained a specialty certification in Hospital medical coding and billing. Amy and her husband are both fans of fantasy novels as well as avid movie collectors. The Parker Harris Series is the first series of books by this author. Cascades of Moonlight is Book #1, Dreams, Spells, and Moonlit Tales is Book #2, and The Dark Moon Book #3 and The Cold Moon Book #3.5 a Novella from Mitchell's POV. Her second series is a New Adult Contemporary Romance, The Southern Devotion Series, with each book having as a standalone novel with crossover characters. The first book in that series is For the Love of Gracie. Curves in the Road is her newest release as Book 3 in the NA series. Her favorite past times include watching movies, drawing, and reading fantasy novels. Her first book was a means of therapy for her as it enabled her to escape reality for a while during a difficult transition in her life. Her current work in progress is a spin-off of The Parker Harris Series called "The Crispin Sinclair Chronicles" that will be released in October 2014 as a YA Fantasy series. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Social Links:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.facebook.com/AmyKMcclung" target="_blank">Facebook</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://amykmcclung.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6421342.Amy_K_McClung" target="_blank">GoodReads Author Page</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Amy-McClung/e/B0084PYM7K/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1407878075&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Amazon Author Page</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://twitter.com/AmythaMcclung" target="_blank">Twitter</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Book Purchase Links: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Curves-Road-Southern-Devotion-Book-ebook/dp/B00MG6W98M/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1407878235&sr=8-1&keywords=curves+in+the+road" target="_blank">Curves in the Road on Amazon </a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cascades-Moonlight-Parker-Harris-Book-ebook/dp/B008317UG0/ref=la_B0084PYM7K_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1408328861&sr=1-2" target="_blank">Cascades of Moonlight (The Parker Harris Series Book 1)</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dreams-Spells-Moonlit-Parker-Harris-ebook/dp/B00AQIHA6I/ref=la_B0084PYM7K_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1408328861&sr=1-3" target="_blank">Dreams, Spells, and Moonlit Tales (The Parker Harris SeriesBook 2)</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Moon-Parker-Harris-Book-ebook/dp/B00COAT1SG/ref=la_B0084PYM7K_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1408328861&sr=1-5" target="_blank">The Dark Moon (The Parker Harris Series Book 3)</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cold-Moon-Mitchells-Novella-Parker-ebook/dp/B00MQAIKMM/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1408328550&sr=8-6&keywords=Amy+McClung" target="_blank">The Cold Moon: Mitchell's Novella (The Parker Harris SeriesBook 3.5)</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://the%20shimmering%20pool%20%28the%20crispin%20sinclair%20chronicles%20book%201%29/" target="_blank">The Shimmering Pool (The Crispin Sinclair Chronicles Book 1)</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.asyouwishtours.com/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAdJt-rEf3nGzv7JHThiijWTOx3yHzrhJvEm9cUCe-O6ES9OATCg0SNa2VMxn7r51_n90cpaCf0byealE1jPfzTBfrimbau38AVIEQIu5MZdTo1NPBqg2k2Q3QiNvsoc-pxnARmul_aGuG/s1600/asyouwishtoursbanner_v1_host_blogbadge.png" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
CChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16247134270404943012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-16098524797751465642014-08-27T12:14:00.001-06:002014-08-27T13:12:46.402-06:00Generation X: The Rising<div style="text-align: center;">
Hey everyone!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
As promised, below is the first TWO chapters of Generation X: The Rising</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
AS WELL as the book trailer and a giveaway!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm so excited about all of this, you have no idea!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I hope that you enjoy it, and look forward to seeing your guy's reactions!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
xoxo,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Confetti Queen</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(aka Desiree DeOrto)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrcaNi2idZarIOEgqqgzuD0L360h5P1GFCP4umVPo26lhKgJ77rM-3yVr4vXAOvX2SKcEFKflWnFZscPAiJT3VfmZGZWfS0KEPTtVnE2cK5_fXhjotzs0SQcPMivl4kb9YQhUmgfMmtbTa/s1600/GenXTheRisingCorrectedEbook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrcaNi2idZarIOEgqqgzuD0L360h5P1GFCP4umVPo26lhKgJ77rM-3yVr4vXAOvX2SKcEFKflWnFZscPAiJT3VfmZGZWfS0KEPTtVnE2cK5_fXhjotzs0SQcPMivl4kb9YQhUmgfMmtbTa/s1600/GenXTheRisingCorrectedEbook.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Elder Race was a story told around campfires. Aliens,
monsters, mad men. Those who believed were called insane, but they were right.
They came from space, the seas, and below the earth. Turns out they were
waiting, patiently waiting all this time. For what, no one knew, until now. They’re
coming for what they think is rightfully theirs, the half-breeds that are part
human, part Elder.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once The Rising began, those who were different were
gathered. Separated from the life they knew, those they loved, and moved into
camps where they were tested and given the choice. But for Elizabeth, there was
no choice at all. They meant to make super soldiers out of them. What they discovered
instead was something that no one ever expected. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes monsters aren’t the things you can’t see, but
rather, they’re the weapons of your own creation. When you’re part Elder, and
part human, it’s hard to see which side of you is the true hero, and which side
is the monster. Everything Elizabeth
thought she knew about herself and the world around her is changing, but will
she be able to get through The Rising alive? Or will she become what the Government
wants her to be: The ultimate weapon.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>Chapter One</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Green. Startling green shining out of
the darkness. A face she couldn’t see no matter how hard she tried, how much
she willed it. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A flash of white in the darkness, the
beauty and texture reminded her of the silk of a spider’s web. </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Enchanting,
ethereal…deadly.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She turned, trying to keep sight of
those eyes. Those haunting, beautiful eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The blare of
the alarm clock woke her up from her dream, shattering the face that she had
almost been able to finally see. Huffing, she turned over and swatted at it. It
was the fifth night in a row with the same dream. Sighing, she moved her
straggled bangs out of her eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Great, Mr.
Perfect was a no-show again.” She had begun to think of him as that. All she
could see in her dreams were his eyes. Shockingly green that seemed to see deep
into her, to the darkest parts of her that she didn’t even let herself see. A
shiver broke across her skin, raising goose bumps as those eyes flashed through
her mind. A pull seemed to gather in her chest when she thought of them, of
him. She rubbed her chest wearily and sat up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Elizabeth!
Get up! You’re going to be late!” She rolled her eyes at the sound of her dad’s
voice. He thoroughly dispersed the eyes, his eyes. Laughing, she stomped across
the floor in their two story walk up, letting him know that she had already
beat him to it. For being a single dad, she didn’t think he was doing a bad
job. Sure, he was crazy and annoying, but that was just him. Just Dad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You have
breakfast ready yet?” she yelled down to him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oh yeah, <i>sure</i> Princess. We have a feast awaiting
you!” She rolled her eyes as she sorted through her clothes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That mean
I’m having cereal again?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You bet
your pretty butt you are! Now come on! You’ve got to go to school and I’ve got
to get some beauty sleep.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Beauty.
Yeah, that’s the first word I think of when describing you, dad.” She turned
the corner into the kitchen and got an eyeful of her dad. A part of her felt
bad as she took him in with his bleary eyes and filthy uniform. Her dad had
worked a nightshift factory job at the local power plant since she could
remember. He was always exhausted, and she knew that if it weren’t for her,
that he would have had a hell of an easier time in life. Biting back a sense of
self-loathing, she walked over and gave him a short kiss on his dirty hair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Come on,
now. I’m filthy.” Blushing, he whipped the newspaper up, grumbling under his
breath. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Grinning,
she walked to the cabinets, looking for the last box of captain crunch. “You’re
always filthy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“And you’re
always cute, so don’t get dirty by loving on the old man.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You’ve got
it!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Her smile
fell as she finally found the box she’d hidden in the back of the cabinet. She
loved her dad, but didn’t trust him with her cereal. He could go ahead and eat Cheerios,
he’d last longer that way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It had just
been the two of them since she was born. As Elizabeth got older and understood
that her mother had actually been ripped apart by her at birth, she figured
that her dad would hate her. He <i>should</i>
hate her. Because of her, his wife wasn’t here anymore. But to her shock and
everyday amazement, he loved her. Adored her. Some of Elizabeth’s friends
weren’t so lucky.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Shaking her
head, she thought of them. Of her little group of misfits. Of how they used to
be. Brian and Micah, the two boys who were raised by single fathers too. All
three of them had similar horror stories, and all three shared the same
birthday, with Micah’s the only one being a year different. They used to be
close, really close while they were young, until they hit middle school. Then
everything had changed. The three of them split, each falling into their own categories.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Micah became
a jock and turned to football. He was the fastest on the entire team and that
was saying something. Since he was one of the ‘popular’ kids, he couldn’t hang
out with Brian anymore, who was a nerd for the lack of a better word. It wasn’t
just that he was smart, but he was <i>too</i>
smart, almost like his intelligence somehow interfered with how he was
socially. He didn’t <i>have</i> any social
experience. He didn’t understand how people acted and reacted to each other,
and sometimes when Elizabeth would catch him studying people, she thought that
he was running some type of mad experiment in his head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She shivered
at the thought, at the intensity that he’d look at people. It was eerily
similar to how Mr. Perfect looked at her in her dreams. But where Brian was
hard, cynical, Mr. Perfect’s gaze pierced her with a fire that she hadn’t seen
anywhere, from anyone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Shit!” Milk
spilled over the rim of the bowl onto the counter, startling her out of her
thoughts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Thinking
again? I told you, thinking is dangerous.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Haha, Dad.
I wasn’t thinking, I was just…remembering.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Ah,
thinking of the boys again?” She nodded as she turned with her too full bowl.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yeah. I was
thinking of how things used to be.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You know,
you’re a junior now. You should have forgotten about them a long time ago. It
was what, the beginning of sixth grade when it all fell apart?” She nodded and
sat at the table, unable to meet her dad’s eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He dropped
the paper and leaned forward, resting his head against his hands. “Hunny,
friends don’t last forever. It’s been <i>years</i>
since those boys even talked to you, and you’re still hurt over it. I don’t
think that’s a good thing. And, honestly? I’m glad they’re not around anymore.
It gives me less to worry about.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A smile
pulled at the corner of her lips. “Yeah, without guys around there shouldn’t be
a need to worry about teenage pregnancy, eh?” She raised an eyebrow and stared
him down. Without a second thought, his face flushed red as he opened and
closed his mouth repeatedly, practically sputtering on the words he wanted to
say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“You…don’t
tell me you’re…Elizabeth. Elizabeth, you better still be…” She burst out
laughing, practically knocking over her bowl of cereal at his half-horror,
half-irate expression.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Oh, you’re
in so much trouble. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Sorry, Dad.
I couldn’t help it. And yes, I’m still a…” With a smirk she stood and rinsed
her bowl out in the sink while her dad grumbled behind her. She pecked him
quickly on the top of his head where his bald spot was as she hurried past him.
“I’ve gotta go, old man. Get some sleep,
okay? You’re looking kind of haggard.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> “Will do, princess. Be careful out there.
Things are starting to get weird.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Dad,
everything is weird to you.” With a wave she turned away and closed the door
behind her. A sense of pleasure hit her as his eyes came back as soon as she
closed the door, almost like he was respecting her father. She shook her head
and walked to the car. “Weird. If you only knew dad, if you only knew.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">*****<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Don’t you
hear that fucking alarm, idiot! Get the hell up before <i>I </i>get you up!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Slapping his
hand blearily around the alarm, Micah finally silenced it, and silenced his
drunkard of a father in the process. You’d think that being a deputy of the
town would make his dad somewhat representable, but as soon as he put the badge
down, the bottle went up. Micah rubbed his face as he sat up and looked around
the room. He needed to clean. Hell, he needed to do a lot of things, and the
first thing he needed to do was to stop thinking and dreaming about <i>her</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Throwing his
head back, he nearly smacked it against the wall as he slumped. “God, Lizzie,
what have you done to me?” Her smiling face flashed through his mind, haunting
him. She haunted him every day, but he’d never tell her. He brushed his hair
out of his face and threw his legs over the side of the bed, disturbing dust
bunnies as he did. He looked around his ratty room that resided in a ratty
house, in a shoddy neighborhood. He hated it. Hated his house, his room, the
state. But most of all, he hated his dad for hating him, and hated the fear
that he felt every day that he’d turn into exactly what he hated most: his
father.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Stretching,
Micah stood and shuffled to his closet. There wasn’t much there, but for what
was there it was pricey. Micah worked a part-time job just to keep up
appearances. He could go naked to school, for all his father would care, but
even though Micah couldn’t be friends with Elizabeth anymore, he still wanted
to be <i>near</i> her. He smirked as he
threw on his clothes and headed out of the house. He didn’t stop to say goodbye
to his father, couldn’t stand to. All he cared about was that in about thirty
minutes he’d be able to see <i>her</i>
again. And Brian, the brain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A frown
crossed his face as he opened up his car door, ignoring it as it creaked in
protest and hopped in. They were always together, the three of them. Until that
night when Micah and Brian discovered something about themselves that they
didn’t want Elizabeth to know. Couldn’t let her know. It was bad enough that
both Brian and Micah were in love with her, but add to it that both of them
were <i>special</i> and could kill her made
everything impossible. He shook his head and started the car, a grin forming as
the engine purred to life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Chapter Two</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The parking
lot was slammed full of student loitering around, talking, throwing things with
the few odd students actually doing homework. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Elizabeth
pulled into her usual spot, and fought back a grin as Micah pulled up beside
her. Even though they weren’t technically ‘friends’ anymore and hadn’t said
more than a word to each other throughout all the years, the three of them
still parked next to each other. A full smile bloomed on her face as she heard
Brian’s car pull up on her other side. Ignoring the urge to turn and look at
him, acknowledge him in some way, she dug around the passenger side for her
backpack and got out, composing her face as she did. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She wasn’t
the one who ended their friendship, they did, and she still didn’t understand
why. Pushing her long, dark brown hair behind her ear, she got out and slung
her backpack across one shoulder, nodding silently to Micah, and completely
ignoring Brian as she headed toward the school. People called from across the
lot, and she forced a smile and waved back to them as she walked stiffly
forward. She couldn’t relax until she felt Micah and Brian move away, no longer
following her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She breathed
out and pushed the school doors open, almost slamming to a stand-still. Her
classmates and other students stopped dead in the hallway, each of them craning
their heads up and looking at the TV that was mounted against the wall. She
worked her way around them, catching the reporter’s words in the almost silent
hallway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“<i>Reports are coming in from across the world
on an almost global natural disaster area. Tycoons, hurricanes, and earthquakes
are just some of the terrors that are hitting areas all across the globe from
the United States to Malaysia and everywhere in between…”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She slowed
down as the words reverberated in her ears. Stopping, she turned and stared at
the TV too. Clips were playing at almost blinding speeds of places she’d never
been to, but hoped to one day go. They were almost completely destroyed.
Families were crying, woman carrying dead infants through rubble that used to
be towns. Tears filled her eyes. She could almost <i>feel</i> their pain. Their horror. Her breath caught in her throat as
her heart raced in her ears. Her dad was right, something was very, very wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Incoming reports from Yellowstone
and the Arctic Circle report that all geysers are active, signifying that the
volcano’s that have laid dormant underneath through the generations are
becoming active. Large pieces of the Arctic Circle are breaking apart, causing
waters to rise all around the world and Tsunamis to hit. Scientists from across
the globe still don’t have any information or reasoning for why this is
happening at this time. We’ll report more as more information comes in. God
save us all.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A tremor
rocked through the school, making the students bump into each other and
pictures to tilt in their frames. Trophies in the schools trophy case rocked,
some falling over. It felt like the entire school was holding its breath, waiting
for what would happen next. Elizabeth’s blue eyes widened as she felt the panic
in the students increase. She sent a
silent prayer up as she backed away from the mass, right before the next wave
hit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Screaming
erupted as students were thrown violently around. Walls cracked and pieces of
ceiling tile fell as the earthquake rocked through the school, heavy masses of
destruction in their wake. Elizabeth’s scream mixed in with the screams of
other students as full panic hit the mass, making them run blindly into each
other. Her breath was knocked out of her lungs as she was knocked to the
ground, pain shooting through her ribs as she tried to catch her breath. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Horror
filled her eyes as she saw the mass of students swarm towards her, and they
weren’t stopping. Bracing herself, she closed her eyes and waited for the pain
of being trampled to hit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Powerful
hands gripped her beneath her knees and under her shoulders, easily lifting her
up. A small oomph escaped her as she slammed against a chest. Micah’s chest.
She didn’t need to look up to know that it was him. She remembered his scent,
the feel of him almost more than she remember Mr. Perfect’s eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Around!”
Her head snapped up at the sound of Brian’s voice. That one word seemed to seep
into the students, making them scurry, separate themselves like water around
them. She stared at him. She knew his voice, knew him just as she knew Micah,
but she’d never heard him speak like that. Then again, she’d never known Micah
to lift her like she weighed nothing, or to get to her within an instant. The
remaining panic showed itself as tears filled her eyes, falling from her horror
stricken face. The tremors died down, leaving an eerie silence in the hallways
as the last of the students fled to the outside, the sound of sobbing being
abruptly cut off as the door slammed shut between them and the outside world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Lizzie, are
you okay?” Micah’s warm, worried voice shattered her panic. She looked up at
him through her mangled hair, tears falling heedlessly unchecked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“She’s fine.
The velocity of her fall wouldn’t harm her more than getting the air knocked
out of her, and none of the students got to her so she’s unharmed.” Brian’s
almost robotic voice cut coldly through the halls. Elizabeth’s mind swirled as
confusion hit her, battling with the remaining emotions from the student body.
She could still feel them, as if she was feeling them herself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m not
asking your thoughts, Brian! I’m talking to Lizzie!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m just
stating the facts. If she were to be hurt I’d know in an instant.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes because
you’re so damn smart, right?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I don’t
comprehend why you’re so angry. You should be elated that she’s unharmed. Your
emotional anxiety is unneeded at this point.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“No, you
wouldn’t understand, would you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Her head
whipped between the two of them, Micah’s building anger reflecting through her,
almost as if she was the one that was confused, hurt. “I’m fine. Really, I am.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">His steady
blue eyes were laced with worry as he looked down at her. “Are you sure? You’re
pale.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Of course
she would be. That’s a natural reaction to an event of this magnitude.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Jesus,
Brian, would you just shut the hell up?” Micah’s roar echoed throughout the
empty hallways, the sound of plaster falling from the ceiling the only sound to
compete with it besides Elizabeth’s almost frantic breathing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Fine. Be
illogical.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A burst of
laughter escaped her, the panicky sound falling all around them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“God,
Lizzie. You’re not okay.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She pushed
against his chest, making him lower her unsteadily. She paused for a second and
made sure that she could stand on her shaking legs. When she knew she could,
she let go, stepping forward slowly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Am I hurt?
No, I’m not. Am I okay? I am the farthest from okay that I can even think of
right now. What the hell is going on? How did you get here so fast, Micah? And
Brian, what was up with that? You just said a word and parted people like the Red
Sea!” Panic mixed with a healthy dose of fear washed over her, a cold sweat
broke out across her forehead as bile rose swiftly in her throat. She didn’t
understand any of it. Didn’t understand why she was feeling the emotions from
other people, how her best friends, her ex best friends could do something so
humanly impossible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“It’s simple
really, though I haven’t been able to fully experiment, I do have some ideas.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Experiment?
Ideas? What are you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Lizzie, you
need to calm down.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Don’t tell
me to calm down! A freaking earthquake just ripped through our school and I
just saw something that shouldn’t have been able to happen! Tell me how to calm
down! You calm down!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Elizabeth,
listen. I know that you’re confused and you don’t understand, but if you would
just listen…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Fear built
through her in rising waves, her thoughts were flowing through her quicker than
she could keep a hold of. “No. I don’t want to listen. You guys didn’t explain
anything to me in sixth grade. What makes you think that I should listen to you
now?” Static built underneath her skin, making her fidget. She couldn’t keep
still as she rubbed her shaking hands on her arms, almost holding herself,
trying to keep herself together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Lizzie,
please.” Micah stepped forward, his arm outstretched as if he was going to
comfort her. The sight of his hand, his strong hand that had saved her with
super human strength pushed her emotional limit over the edge. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Don’t touch
me!” His eyes widened as his body went flying backwards, smacking into the
concrete walls, dust and rubble flinging out around him as his body and the
force of the hit punched a hole through it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Brian
watched it all calmly, a small frown marring his face as he looked back and
forth between Elizabeth and the hole that Micah’s body put through the wall.
Elizabeth froze, her mind blanking as she shook her head in denial.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well, it
looks like you’re one of us too.” She looked into Brian’s calm, calculating
brown eyes and broke.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Sobs built
in her chest as she stepped backwards. She killed him. She didn’t know how she
did it, but she killed Micah. Her best friend. She couldn’t stop her body from
shaking or terror from overtaking her as she walked backwards faster. “No. No,
no, no.” The denial burst from her lips even as she heard the sound of Micah
moving. She thought her eyes would pop out of her head as a very dusty Micah
stepped through the hole, shaking rubble from his hair as he looked at her in
complete shock.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“What the
hell was that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Without a
word she turned, sprinting with everything she had to the doors and flinging
them open. She squinted into the light and ran blindly out of the school, not
even stopping as hands from the other students reached out toward her, trying
to see if she was alright. She wasn’t alright, and didn’t know if she ever
would be alright again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Brian and
Micah stared after her, looking away only as the doors slammed shut behind her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“This isn’t
possible.” Micah muttered as he stood shocked beside Brian.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Technically,
it is possible, but I would have never guessed that it was probable.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He ignored
Brian’s robotic comment. “Did you see her eyes?” He shook his head, the sight
of the almost neon green flashing through his mind. “Our eyes don’t change when
we use our powers.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“That’s
because she’s not like us. She’s different.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Different,
yeah you could say that. But how is she different? It doesn’t make any sense.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I don’t
know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Micah looked
up at Brian, completely shocked. “You don’t know? How do you not know? You know
everything.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He frowned
and moved towards the door, leaving Micah to follow behind. “Obviously not.
This is quite a predicament.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Micah
followed, kicking pieces of debris out of his way. “Why is it a predicament?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">He turned
around and stared Micah down, his soft brown eyes clashing with Micah’s
violently blue ones. “It’s a predicament because we hurt her all those years
ago because we thought we’d hurt her. And now we know that she was never in any
danger, but we were.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Micah stood
still as Brian walked away from him, muttering under his breath. He didn’t
think of that. If she was more powerful than him and Brian in her own way then
she could, in fact, be the one to hurt them instead. “I guess we we’re really
saving ourselves.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>AND NOW,</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>I present to you the book trailer!</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Enjoy!</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="243" id="vp1rD8b0" src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/embed.animoto.com/play.html?w=swf/production/vp1&e=1409162971&f=rD8b0euXLdb0UDX52Pwa4Q&d=0&m=a&r=360p&volume=100&start_res=360p&i=m&asset_domain=s3-p.animoto.com&animoto_domain=animoto.com&options=" title="Video Player" width="432"></iframe><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Pre-orders are available <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Generation-X-Rising-Desiree-DeOrto-ebook/dp/B00MTRXB7Q/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1409163052&sr=8-4&keywords=desiree+deorto" target="_blank">HERE</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
If you would like to sign up for an ARC of Generation X: The Rising,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
click <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1rR6MxM8DOkNCbRDe3lcqhTDJ6XxR5C7-hwJ2H-jq-j4/viewform?usp=send_form" target="_blank">HERE</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
For other book news and randomness you can check out my <a href="http://facebook.com/AuthorDesireeDeOrto" target="_blank">Facebook</a><br />
And now for the GIVEAWAY! Good luck!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/afb0e9ca23/" id="rc-afb0e9ca23" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="//widget.rafflecopter.com/load.js"></script></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-52588333279607960412014-08-16T14:19:00.001-06:002014-08-16T14:20:02.217-06:00A Little Tough Love From the Confetti Queen<div style="text-align: center;">
Dear Authors:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Ya'll know me, and if you don't</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
YOU WILL.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm pissed. Why? Because I'm sick and tired of hearing that what I do is a hobby. That irritates me to no end. What I'm also pissed about is other authors, authors that I admire and look up too, who are QUITTING because they're tired of the fight. They're tired of trying so damn hard and feeling like they're not getting anywhere. They're tired of being bullied by the pathetic people who hide behind a computer. They're tired of being pirated. They're tired of being told by everyone in their 'real' life that it's just a hobby, that writing isn't an actual job. Well I'm here to tell ya'll something:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
SUCK IT UP!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Too harsh? Well, here's the thing. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In this business, you won't be respected. Until, or even IF, you reach the ranks of someone like Colleen Hoover or Jamie McGuire, you're going to be looked down on. Hell, THEY even get shit for being an author, and look where they're at!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In this business, you're going to be bullied. There will be times where people are going to tear you and/or your book(s) a new one. They'll rip it apart, slam it into the dirt, then set it on fire. And do you know what you have to do?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You have to GET THE F* back up, brush that shit off, and move on.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Why? Because that's how you move forward. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It sucks.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
If anything, the one thing that I've learned in this life is that it f*ing sucks. It's stressful. Some days, you'll want to quit. Hell, I'm a huge inspiration to other authors and to readers because of the hell that I've been through in my life and am STILL currently going through, they look up to me even though I want to quit. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Yes, you heard that right. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
EVERY. DAY. I want to quit. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I want to throw in the towel and just focus on a regular job and struggle to make ends me that way.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I get so tired of the fight. SO tired of having to suck it up and move forward. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I ask myself: Why isn't it any easier? Why don't the people who are closest to me, believe in me? Why, why, why, why, why???</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
For f*cks sake, with my manic depression, sometimes it's all I can do during the day NOT to just end this life. To give in and give up because the darkness in my mind whispers that things will never get better. That this LIFE, this giant bowl of SUCK is just going to keep getting worse and I'll be stuck in this giant void of eternal darkness and pain.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But you know what? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I don't give in.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I don't give up. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I may sit there and be completely unmotivated, hating myself because I need to DO something, anything to keep moving forward. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I've broken down, cried my eyes out, held a knife in my hand for TWO HOURS and FOUGHT with myself, restraining myself so I WOULDN'T QUIT.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Then, I find out that one of my friends and fellow authors who is a constant support to me, someone who is ALWAYS telling me things will get better and that it just takes time, that you have to say 'F* IT and F* YOU' to all the nay-sayers who tell me every freaking day that what I do isn't a job and that I'll never get there, is going to quit. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Yes.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She wants to quit. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She wants to give up, get a 'real' job, and keep going in the life of SUCK without doing something that she loves ALL BECAUSE her family keeps telling her that she can't do it. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That it's a 'hobby' and that she'll never make it. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The sad thing? She makes a HELL of a lot more on her royalties that I do. She has a bigger following, and is SO CLOSE to a break through that I can almost taste it!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So, I'm fucking pissed.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Here's what I want to say to each and every one of you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Your life WON'T get better until YOU take the steps necessary in order to make it so. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This giant bowl of SUCK will keep throwing shit balls at you, trying to drag you down, to make you quit.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
More often than not, your own FAMILY, the ones that are supposed to love and support you no matter what won't believe in you. They won't believe in your dream, have smiled when you told them you wrote a book or want to become an author and thought to themselves, "eh, let the kid have his/her dream. They'll quit soon enough. After all, no one can make it.".</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But you know what?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
F*CK THEM!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That's right, a giant dose of flipping the bird to ANYONE who has ever doubted you or made you doubt yourself.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Writing isn't a hobby. It's a passion. It's a dream.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
With writing, you have the ability to change someones life. You can transport someone who's in one of their darkest days into a world that you created, having them experience something magical and obtain something that is very hard to find.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You have the ability to give them HOPE.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Why would you let someone take that away from you?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
WHY would you let someone, who more than likely didn't have the balls to follow their own dreams because they were crushed by societies thoughts of success, take away something that isn't just something you do, it's who you are.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Authors are not just people that sit there and type until TADA! it's a book!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
They research, plot, CREATE life where none existed, and they put their hearts and souls into it.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Why?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Because it's a part of WHO WE ARE. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgE2zhJQFCXfhlSEwy2zGxlXo_BqM5udk4dibcQoFRfb1MIwF3pBjok5wf0PK8IY3OW1WW0U_BeCDCc-ICovOayc2Mf9R7Jlco4KMUP35MUeZiP1BLXiy-DpFmCuI8gsku9vVQHZhZatHl/s1600/10603285_694778500570054_2767322966854328743_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgE2zhJQFCXfhlSEwy2zGxlXo_BqM5udk4dibcQoFRfb1MIwF3pBjok5wf0PK8IY3OW1WW0U_BeCDCc-ICovOayc2Mf9R7Jlco4KMUP35MUeZiP1BLXiy-DpFmCuI8gsku9vVQHZhZatHl/s1600/10603285_694778500570054_2767322966854328743_n.jpg" height="320" width="251" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
WE ARE those characters.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Their fears, their dreams, their emotions in the darkest times when there's no ray of hope left. That's ours. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The happy endings, or in my case the HOPE for a happy ending?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Those are ours too. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
To give into someone who tells you no, who belittles what you do, is like letting them look into your soul, and tell it that it's never enough. That it will never be enough.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
WHY would you let someone kill that part of you like that?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So here's some tough love for you, and anyone else out there that's having a shitty day and is letting others or their own minds doubt themselves.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Suck it up.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
NOTHING worth having in this life is ever easy. You have to feel the pain, feel the doubts, and somehow manage to find a way to push yourself forward. To keep going and keep the momentum up.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
No one can do it for you. We can be there as a support, to tell you that yes, we've been there too, and we know what it's like, but at the end of the day, the change has to start with you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
YOU have to decide that you won't believe anyone who tells you you can't.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But most importantly, YOU have to decide that you ARE enough. You have to BELIEVE IN YOURSELF, because I believe in all of you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Your words are your voice.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Don't let anyone silence you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
With love, Always.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Desiree</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-73826072029787026922014-07-26T17:08:00.000-06:002014-07-26T17:08:28.938-06:00A Freebie, A New Release AND All The Feels!<div style="text-align: center;">
I just needed to take a moment to say something.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A lot of times, people don't appreciate things the way they should, and we see it happening so often where people aren't sincere in their thanks.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm not here to do that.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm not here to fluff everyone up for doing something that I think is truly wonderful.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm here, to let you all know, that I truly do appreciate everything.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
From the support,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to the shares,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to the tweets.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm so overwhelmed with gratitude from everyone's kindness that I can't even.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I. CAN'T. EVEN.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Almost a year ago, I lost everything.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My home, my children, my life.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Somehow, through all the pain and sadness, I managed to make it through,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and things are getting better.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I never thought the day would come where I'd break into the top 100 of ANY category.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I never thought that I, who just MONTHS ago was living in a van and didn't feel anywhere near safe,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
could look upon the future and see something bright.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But it happened, and I didn't make it happen.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Yes, I fought on, I kept going and kept writing and built my businesses up.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I may have lost hope a time or two and just had to stop and break down,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but I'm not the one who had the kindness to spread the word.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Through your guy's faith in me and in my work,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
it has flourished.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
As a person and an author, I have flourished.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You guys have given me hope, and have given me one of the most priceless gifts ever:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Your love.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So, thank you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
From the bottom of my heart, from the depths of my soul and with everything that I am.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
THANK YOU!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevXbWhXHR6fNosZ-iIjbDQzxyDG0AXdOCY4g0HDoEyi7_DP4BhtFfv2NgJuc_tufaiDz8O2_xZ1H0DjQYczl4vtH6y95gt_h7Jf8bUontojvervWdyVnmX7pkKKpAXyk_nE8hJZ4o-_0X/s1600/thank-you-with-butterflies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevXbWhXHR6fNosZ-iIjbDQzxyDG0AXdOCY4g0HDoEyi7_DP4BhtFfv2NgJuc_tufaiDz8O2_xZ1H0DjQYczl4vtH6y95gt_h7Jf8bUontojvervWdyVnmX7pkKKpAXyk_nE8hJZ4o-_0X/s1600/thank-you-with-butterflies.jpg" height="297" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Thank you for believing in me.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Thank you for believing in my dreams.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Thank you, for seeing me as I am, and believing that I was enough.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And thank you for being there, and taking a chance on me.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I don't think I could ever tell you guys how much it means to me, and it's not enough by simply saying:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Thank you!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghBPmUAWpbZoRRK9Tz8RV4pezyf2Zd0j3c0JkgaPr5F77o3CPf2-FsbVsTali9tMzTb-b_0gKAemxGl_NrbL1O6s1OOB7u8IwrjeXlX-Ydqdys12UJleI4c969toP0Wl_n5nSJ9eNLAZ1D/s1600/10458549_10152194299275718_7408738366081790886_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghBPmUAWpbZoRRK9Tz8RV4pezyf2Zd0j3c0JkgaPr5F77o3CPf2-FsbVsTali9tMzTb-b_0gKAemxGl_NrbL1O6s1OOB7u8IwrjeXlX-Ydqdys12UJleI4c969toP0Wl_n5nSJ9eNLAZ1D/s1600/10458549_10152194299275718_7408738366081790886_n.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
For celebration for the release of The Divine, book two in the Divinity Stone Series, I have put The Prophecy up for FREE!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You can pick it up <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Prophecy-Divinity-Stone-Book-ebook/dp/B00DFB3EQ8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1406415857&sr=8-1&keywords=desiree+deorto" target="_blank">HERE</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-cwjbeTeN58UMBhWBHhTol0D9QD9JIIWBkO-PZc22o9rSwewodhPYkPvdXq7X3MfQ4DAwOUhXOW6GGKmnXxlOOJbtxwT1Mxbe8tqWC5ffArWTISpAIrAvZ6PwjZ_DkDr90DlkkWxEtM2j/s1600/10525931_10203128521952592_4287339785892267335_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-cwjbeTeN58UMBhWBHhTol0D9QD9JIIWBkO-PZc22o9rSwewodhPYkPvdXq7X3MfQ4DAwOUhXOW6GGKmnXxlOOJbtxwT1Mxbe8tqWC5ffArWTISpAIrAvZ6PwjZ_DkDr90DlkkWxEtM2j/s1600/10525931_10203128521952592_4287339785892267335_n.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
ALSO!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The Divine JUST HIT AMAZON! So you can continue on in the journey</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Divine-Divinity-Stone-Book-Two-ebook/dp/B00M5JQ4GI/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1406415880&sr=1-1" target="_blank">HERE</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBztMowo8yHiGAOt3fzBXOc7MPJD4Rxc0CyFOu0Ge4nekAVs67cKiFqw9Cq0A8AovOdzTUSCfqGtfGG5Zx622tdY-aZ55quYznxJdpSVFCIPIk_50BlhcL7j61HHVaj9ERcrwnKU4L_Aw-/s1600/1924347_10203128573153872_6869075702718280621_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBztMowo8yHiGAOt3fzBXOc7MPJD4Rxc0CyFOu0Ge4nekAVs67cKiFqw9Cq0A8AovOdzTUSCfqGtfGG5Zx622tdY-aZ55quYznxJdpSVFCIPIk_50BlhcL7j61HHVaj9ERcrwnKU4L_Aw-/s1600/1924347_10203128573153872_6869075702718280621_n.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Thank you, everyone. I feel extremely repetitive, but I don't know what else to say.</div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-22054600814486166312014-05-20T12:43:00.002-06:002014-05-20T12:43:19.039-06:00Casey Bond Cover Reveal!<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><span style="color: #ff6600;"><a href="http://caseybond.tateauthor.com/files/2014/05/Untitled.jpg"><img alt="Untitled" class="aligncenter size-medium wp-image-491" src="http://caseybond.tateauthor.com/files/2014/05/Untitled-300x188.jpg" height="188" width="300" /></a><br /><br />Welcome to the cover reveal of Resist, Book 2 of The Harvest Saga by Casey L. Bond. Let's check out the full cover!!!<br /><br /><a href="http://caseybond.tateauthor.com/files/2014/05/1.2-mg-resist-full-wrapcover.jpg"><img alt="1.2 mg resist full wrapcover" class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-492" src="http://caseybond.tateauthor.com/files/2014/05/1.2-mg-resist-full-wrapcover-1024x764.jpg" height="764" width="1024" /></a><br /><br />RESIST:</span> </strong></span><br />
Abby Kelley returns home from the Greater city of Olympus to find that things in Orchard Village are bad, very bad. The Olympian Guard has taken over village affairs. The Lessers are being worked to the bone in the coldest winter Orchard has seen. Villagers are being dragged away for the slightest indication of what they call “resistance.” She needs to keep her head down and her mouth shut. But, it’s so hard to do when everything within you screams rebellion.<br />
Kyan is coming on strong, trying to convince her to take a chance on him. Shocking news of Crew’s activities in Olympus sweeps through the Villages. When Abby is taken away by the Olympian guard, Kyan sends word to Vesuvius for help. But, no one could have predicted their idea of help or what they might expect in return.<br />
Who will be left to pick up the pieces of Abby’s heart?<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size: medium;"><strong><span style="color: #ff6600;">Releasing in the Summer of 2014</span></strong></span></em><br />
<br />
<a href="http://caseybond.tateauthor.com/files/2014/03/Reap-Ecover-878KB1.jpg"><img alt="Reap Ecover 878KB" class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-392" src="http://caseybond.tateauthor.com/files/2014/03/Reap-Ecover-878KB1-682x1024.jpg" height="1024" width="682" /></a> <br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><strong>REAP:</strong> </span><br />
The remnants of the United States of America have been divided. From five enormous, technologically-advanced cities, the Greaters rule over the Lessers. In the Lesser village of Orchard, things are not as perfect as Abby Kelley thinks they are. When the apple harvest draws near and the Greater’s engineered fruits become too much for one village to handle alone, reinforcements from neighboring villages are called upon. <br />
Having to choose between her best friend, whom she has no romantic feelings for, and mysterious newcomer Crew, Abby finds herself in the middle of a harvest that she had no intention of becoming a part of. She becomes involved in a situation that threatens the strict rule of the Greaters, and just might give the Lessers hope for a better tomorrow. But, can she help the Lessers without losing Crew? And if she chooses Crew, will she lose her best friend?<br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>REAP Excerpt:</b></span><br />
Something was touching my face, caressing my cheek. The skin that brushed mine was rough, hardened by the work we all share. <i>Am I dreaming?</i> I waited, trying to see if this was real or part of a dream. Whichever it was, it was nice, comforting.<br />
Rough fingertips moved over the parts of my back that weren’t split open and packed with gunk. I sucked in a breath and held it. This was real. I moved my head and saw his silhouette against the candlelight flickering in from the kitchen and living room. “Ky?” My voice was raspy and barely sounded like my own. Sleep and exhaustion filled every chord.<br />
“Shh. I’m here.” Suddenly, I was very aware that I was lying shirtless on my bed. Even though, I was on my stomach, that didn’t help me feel any less naked in front of my best friend, who happened to be a member of the male species—a very fine male specimen according to my girlfriends.<br />
I knew he was handsome. I wasn’t blind. But, I didn’t see him like that. He’d dated many of my friends and now was getting ready to marry Paige Winters in just a few weeks, after the harvest was complete and the orchards picked bare. His fingertips trace the in-tact skin between my shoulder blades and I tensed under his touch.<br />
He’d kissed my head and temple and hugged me more times than I can count, but this was somehow different. This was more intimate. His touch was delicate, gentle compared to his normal strength and anything but playful. “Ky?”<br />
He didn’t answer. His fingers explored my back, careful not to stray too close to the wounds that streaked across my skin. “Kyan?”<br />
“Shut up, Abby. Just let me... Just shut up.” He’d never talked to me like this. His voice was raspy and he’d never, ever told me to shut up before. So I did. I wasn’t sure why. He shouldn’t have been touching my skin. Shouldn’t have been caressing the good parts left of me, but sitting with me in the dark, he was doing exactly that and I was allowing it.<br />
Paige would be furious if she saw us now. She’d always had a jealous streak, had always hated any girl who dated or flirted with Ky. Lately, she told anyone and everyone who will listen that Kyan was hers and that she hated me with a passion. She wasn’t lying. She hated me. Rather, she hated my relationship with Ky. He was my best friend. I wasn’t interested in him as anything more or anything else. I’d told her that. He’d told her that a million times. But, she refused to listen, adamant that I wanted him for myself, adamant that he wanted me.<br />
I honestly didn’t have those types of feelings for Kyan. I never have had them. Ever. And up until now, I’d always thought he felt the same. But feeling his fingers exploring my skin made even me question that sentiment. And it scared me to death.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;"><strong>Want to check out the first book? <br />REAP Buy Links:</strong></span><br />
Amazon US: <a href="http://tinyurl.com/pht888t">http://tinyurl.com/pht888t</a><br />
Amazon UK: <a href="http://tinyurl.com/kvj83zp">http://tinyurl.com/kvj83zp</a><br />
Amazon CA: <a href="http://tinyurl.com/p6djny5">http://tinyurl.com/p6djny5</a><br />
Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/reap-ebook-casey-l-bond/1118930952?ean=2940149395262<br /><br />
<span style="color: #ff6600; font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;">REAP BOOK Trailer:</span> </span><br />
Trailer: <a href="http://animoto.com/play/wEjFgIPPVZPTV1ANgQuf4w">http://animoto.com/play/wEjFgIPPVZPTV1ANgQuf4w</a><br />
or <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xnuthOAy02s">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xnuthOAy02s</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;"><strong>Contact Casey:</strong></span><br />
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20890250-reap<br />
Facebook: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/authorcaseybond">www.facebook.com/authorcaseybond</a><br />
Twitter: @authorcaseybond<br />
Website: <a href="http://caseybond.tateauthor.com/">http://caseybond.tateauthor.com</a><br />
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/caseyb007/reap-the-harvest-series/<br />
Other Books by Casey L. Bond: Winter Shadows, Devil Creek, Pariah (Releasing 5/14), Shady Bay and Resist, Book 2 of The Harvest Saga (Late Summer 2014).Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-42691564211800693922014-05-09T15:26:00.002-06:002014-05-09T15:26:27.610-06:00Within The Shadows, Part OneHey everyone! So I've decided to participate in this writing thing... you should know how it goes ^.^ I'm going to be writing a short story every month, and separating it into four parts, one part releasing each week of the month! So, without further ado, here's Part One of this month selection entitled: Within The Shadows © Desiree DeOrto 2014<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">“Baby, you know what I love most about you?” She pasted on a smile as she turned in her seat, light fading in and out of the car as they whirled past the streetlights. The light didn't dispel the shadows that constantly lingered, taunting her peripheral vision. She clasped her hands together in her lap, trying to stop their shaking as the voices started whispering to her again.</span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">“What’s that?” She asked, hoping her voice was soft instead of yelling over the voices that only she could hear.</span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">He smiled, taking his eyes off the road to look at her. She softened under his gaze, momentarily forgetting about everything. About the shadows and the constant whispering. About the fact that she was crazy.</span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">She turned away at that thought, looking out the windshield. Her breath caught in her throat at the black mass that was heading right for them, its fathomless form soaking in the light from the headlights. “I love how you…”</span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">“Michael! Look out!” The steering wheel jerked, sending their car careening on the slick pavement heading straight for the guard rail. A scream erupted in her throat as they went air-born, effortlessly flipping over and over again. Her horror filled eyes locked onto Michael’s right before her world shattered, sending her straight into the shadows embrace.</span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;"></span></em></div>
<a name='more'></a><em><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></em><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">The tires crunched to a stop, yanking Emily out of her memory as she jerked gracelessly forward. Disorientated, she blinked back tears, focusing on the inside of the taxi cab. <em>That’s right</em>, she thought as she pulled out an ear bud to hear the taxi driver over the roar of the music, <em>Just a month at the Ozark, and I can go home</em>. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore the sounds of whispers that bombarded her, drowning out everything else. She shook her head, focusing on the driver’s bleary eyes in the rear view mirror.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">Smiling tightly, she gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, what?”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Are you sure you’re in the right place?” He asked, his voice edged with concern.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">Frowning, she looked down at the piece of paper clutched in her hands as the whispers faded in and out. “Are we at the Ozark Plantation?”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Yeah, but this place…”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">They became louder, screaming through her mind, drowning out whatever he was saying. Her breathing hitched as sweat beaded on her forehead. <em>Why wouldn't they go away</em>? She pinched the bridge of her nose, staving off the pounding that started to build in her head.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Then it’s the right place.” She blurted, ending whatever he was still going on about. Shoving money his way, she jammed the ear bud back in, sighing as the music drowned out the voices. Slamming the door behind her, she grabbed her suitcase, pulling it as she made her way up the driveway. The battered wheels bounced along behind her, dragging through the dust in areas, making her pull forcefully to get it back on track. <em>Almost there</em>, she thought as she pushed her bangs out of her face. Blowing out a breath, she paused, looking at the mansion before her.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">It was decrepid. A shiver ran through her body as a sick feeling began to burn in the pit of her stomach. She could tell it was once beautiful, but over the passing years it had fallen into ruin. Where once the marble pillars gleamed in the sunlight, they now were cracked, aged from a gleaming white to a dull grey. Its stately appeal seemed to whither, drooping like the hunched shoulders of a crone. She frowned as she looked over the once magnificent landscape, now overgrown with weeds and vines, seeming to swallow everything in its path. Shadows clung to the house, giving it a sense of evil, eternal darkness.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“It’s okay,” she whispered to herself as she gathered her courage, “it’s just a job. An easy one. No need to get freaked out. Just have to stick it out for a while, and you’ll be set. You need the money, Em. The shadows aren’t real. They can’t hurt you.” She almost rolled her eyes. She sounded like a mix between her therapist and her friend, Becky. With her chin up high, she grabbed the handle of her suitcase and marched forward, ignoring the sense of dread that seemed to multiply with each step she took. The mansion loomed before her, swallowing her in its shadows. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she stepped up onto the crumbling stairs. The skies darkened overhead, giving a chill to the air as raindrops started to fall steadily around her, almost to the beat of the music blasting in her ears. She quickened her pace, her suitcase thumping along behind her.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">Large oak doors loomed before her, bending toward her as if to shelter her in their embrace. She shook her head, trying to dispel the images as the shadows danced toward her. A lump lodged in her throat, almost chocking her as the ever present fear raised its head. Her hand shook as she raised it, reaching for the bronze, aged handle.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">She screamed as the door jerked open in front of her, tripping over her suitcase in her hasty retreat. A hand reached out from the shadows beyond the door, grabbing her arm as she started falling backwards. A scream tore from her throat again as she was jerked forward, falling into the arms of the shadow beyond the hand, embracing her within the darkness. Her heart beat fast and furious against her chest, lending pain to her panic. She shoved off, scrambling backwards, her ear buds falling out, making the whispers rush into her, through her.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Are you okay?”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">She blinked back fear soaked tears as she looked up. A man stood before her, his hands out in front of him in supplication. Her hand shook violently as she brushed the hair back from her face. Piercing blue eyes stared down at her, concern forming a frown between them.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“No, I’m not okay! You scared the shit out of me!” She gasped out between panicked breaths. She closed her eyes, trying to block out everything and still her racing heart.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“I’m sorry. I thought that you were one of the town’s kids. They like to come up here and mess with things.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">Blearily, she looked up at him. “Who <em>are</em> you? I was told no one else was supposed to be here.” He squatted down in front of her, his presence alone chasing back the shadows. Her muscles relaxed as they faded along with the whispers, bringing a clarity that not even the medications could provide. She looked up at him, really looked at him and her heart stopped. Blue wasn’t the right word for his eyes. They were a contrast of colors, going from an almost purple on the outer rim with aqua marine in the middle and flecks of gold near the irises. He was handsome, beyond handsome. Perfectly formed black eyebrows framed his startling eyes with lashes that women would kill for. A straight, aristocratic nose led down to almost full lips. He smirked, a dimple forming in his cheek that trapped her attention. She blew out a breath she didn’t know she was holding as he reached out a hand to help her up. Taking it, a warmth flushed through her system at the contact. A feeling of safety coated her raw nerves like a healing balm.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“I’m Anthony, and no one told me you were coming either.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">Her knees locked beneath her, making her steady as she extracted her hand from his, wiping it on her pants as if to get rid of the sensation his touch left.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Well that makes two of us.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Obviously.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">She fidgeted, trying to look at anything else but at him. “So, are you here to be a caretaker too?”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">He looked confused for a moment, then grinned again. “Yeah, you could say that. Is that why you’re here?”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">She nodded, wrapping up her ear buds to keep her nervous fidgeting under control. “Yeah. My friend Becky left me a message about this place. I needed a job, so I took her up on it as a favor to a friend of hers.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Well, welcome to the Ozark Manor…” He trailed off, raising a brow at her.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">Blushing, she reached out and took his hand, shaking it. “Emily. Emily Brewer.” His stare penetrated her, making her want to fidget again. She felt like a bug under a microscope.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Emily Brewer. Nice to meet you.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“You too.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Well, let’s get inside. No use standing out here in the storm.” He reached behind her and grabbed her suitcase, forgoing the handle as he tossed it over his shoulder. Without a backwards glance, he turned and headed inside, leaving her to follow.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">The entryway echoed with the thud of their footsteps. She noticed the farther away he got from her, the more the shadows advanced. Swallowing hard, she quickened her steps, practically keeping herself glued to his back.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“This place is a mess, but it’s dry at least.” He told her over her shoulder. “I’ll show you the grand tour, if you’d like, then take you up to a room.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">Nausea stirred in her stomach the farther they walked in. Paling, she stopped behind him. “I’m not feeling very well. Do you think we could skip the tour? I’d really like to lay down.” He turned, looking her over.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Sure. There’s a bedroom that’s clean on the second floor. I’ll show you the way.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">She nodded absently behind him, feeling sicker by the moment. A cold sweat racked out across her body as they ascended the stairs. Dust motes floated in the dim light, dancing before her eyes. She kept her eyes trained on Anthony’s broad back, continuously swallowing down the bile that kept rising in her throat.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><em>Emily… Emily… Emily…</em> She froze, blinking back confusion. She knew that voice.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">Emily… here… I’m here…</span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“What’s wrong?”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">Her eyes jerked up, clashing with Anthony’s. “Fine. I’m fine.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“You don’t look fine.” He said, stepping closer to her.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">She swept her gaze down, refusing to look at him. “Really, I just don’t feel well.” She could feel his eyes on her, almost branding her as he looked her over.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Okay. The room’s just ahead.” She nodded, her eyes darting back and forth across the hallway. <em>It can’t be him</em>, she thought to herself as tears filled her eyes. <em>I’m finally losing it. </em> <em>He’s </em>dead<em>. He’s not here. </em>Her heart sank in her chest at that thought, choking her as a sob built in her throat. Anthony opened a door and walked inside a room, dropping her suitcase down in the middle of the floor.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">”You can use this room. It isn’t much, but it’s cleaner than all the rest. I just changed the bedding so you’re good there, at least.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Thanks.” She muttered as she walked around him, her mind still on the voice that haunted her, called to her.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Hey, are you sure you’re alright?”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Look, thanks for your concern, but I’m fine. Really. Now if you don’t mind?” She gestured wearily behind her to the door. She didn’t like being rude, but the silenced voices was unnerving her more than what their constant presence did. She felt off, knowing that something was wrong. The hair rose on the back of her neck as she felt his gaze on her.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Yeah, okay. If you need me, I’ll be downstairs. Just follow this hallway to…”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“I remember how to get to the staircase.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Alright then. I’ll leave you to get settled in.” She listened carefully at the sound of his retreating footsteps, finally relaxing as the door shut softly behind him. She breathed out a sigh of relief, her shoulders slumping as the tension left her.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">She dug through her bag as the whispers started to fade in and out, growing louder with each passing second. Grabbing her pill bottle, she swallowed two, coughing a little as they temporarily caught in her throat. She reached for her iPod, her hands pausing over it. If she blared the music to drown out the voices, then she wouldn’t be able to hear him.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“He’s not <em>here,</em> Em. He’s never coming back!” She berated herself, forcing her hand to move. Forgoing the music, she grabbed her phone and flopped down onto the large canopy bed. Weariness lined every inch of her body as she dialed Becky’s number.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Hey, this is Becky! I’m not here right now…” She frowned. Becky always answered her phone. Hearing the beep, she paused, for a moment not knowing what to say.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">“Hey Beck, it’s me, Em.” She rolled her eyes. Of course Becky would know it was her. “Anyways, I’m just calling to let you know I made it to Ozark. Thanks for telling me there was going to be someone else here, by the way. Anyways, call me back, okay?”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">Hanging up, she turned on her side and stared into space, letting her memories wash through her, fighting in her mind with the ever present shadows. Yawning, she closed her eyes and let her mind drift.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">Darkness descended, coating the room in a swash of ebony. She stirred, feeling a draft flit across her hair, moving the strands around like a gentle caress. Goosebumps rose across her arms. She arched her neck as the phantom caress moved down, stroking the tender skin of her neck to dip below her collar bone. Hef breathing panted out in front of her, misting the air as her warm breath clashed with the cold.</span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">She moaned softly as the caress played just above the swell of her breast, making her skin tighten. “Emily… Emily baby… do you know what I love most about you?” Her eyes fluttered open. That voice. She knew that voice. The caress eased its way up to her throat, the sensation soft like a butterfly’s wing. </span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">She blinked, trying to see through the darkness. A mass eased closer to her, darker than the shadows. As she opened her mouth to scream, the butterfly caress changed to a fist colder than iron and twice as strong. It wrapped around her throat, choking her. Panicked, she clawed at it, her hands falling through the mass, touching nothing. She tore at her neck as the mass pushed her down.</span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">“Do you know what I love most about you?” Tears burned her eyes, racing down her cheeks as she fought uselessly against it.</span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">A putrid stench washed across her face as the mass paused inches before her. Bile rose in her throat, only to be blocked as she suffocated.</span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">“I love how you let me die, baby. And I’ll love how sweet your tortured soul will taste.”</span></em></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-1311826853394568942014-04-30T12:25:00.000-06:002014-05-02T19:46:44.032-06:00LIZZY FORD'S SURPRISE APRIL RELEASE!<a href="http://www.guerrillawordfare.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/Semper-Mine_fb.jpg"><img alt="Semper Mine_fb" class="aligncenter size-medium wp-image-6840" src="http://www.guerrillawordfare.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/Semper-Mine_fb-300x111.jpg" height="236" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm so excited to be a part of Lizzy's Surprise April Release! Not only is she an absolutely AMAZING author, but she's a truly wonderful person as well! SO, without further ado, I give you<span style="text-align: center;"> Lizzy's surprise release for April: "Semper Mine," a standalone novel in the new Sons of War series! Available from: Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Semper Mine</h2>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.guerrillawordfare.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/Semper-Mine_medium.jpg"><img alt="Semper Mine_medium" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-6826" src="http://www.guerrillawordfare.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/Semper-Mine_medium-200x300.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A freak accident landed both of the Khavalov twins under my command, just before a routine mission turned into a nightmare. I brought home one twin in a coffin and the other in a coma missing his leg. I did everything right – and still people died. I can’t forget that night or how many lives it changed, including mine.
It’s natural for their sister, Katya, to blame me. I made one decision in the middle of a firefight, and it shattered her sheltered world. I’m the ice to her fire, and when we first meet, it’s not pretty. I don’t fear war or death, and I am definitely not going to let a beautiful woman with a quick temper and broken heart scare me off, either. I know she’s hurting, and I’m determined to make sure she’s okay. It’s the least I can do for the twins.
I may have failed them that night, but I won’t fail her. What I’m not counting on: the feelings she ignites within me.
</div>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
About Lizzy</h2>
<a href="http://www.guerrillawordfare.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/Lizzy-Ford-Final-Day-Glow.png"><img alt="Lizzy Ford Final -Day Glow" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-6827" src="http://www.guerrillawordfare.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/Lizzy-Ford-Final-Day-Glow-229x300.png" height="300" width="229" /></a><br />
Lizzy Ford is the author of over thirty books written for young adult and adult paranormal romance readers, to include the internationally bestselling “Rhyn Trilogy,” “Witchling Series” and the “War of Gods” series. Considered a freak of nature by her peers for the ability to write and release a commercial quality novel in under a month, Lizzy has focused on keeping her readers happy by producing brilliant, gritty romances that remind people why true love is a trial worth enduring.
Lizzy’s books can be found on every major ereader library, to include: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iBooks, Kobo, Sony and Smashwords. She lives in southern Arizona with her husband, three dogs and a cat.
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Find Lizzy online!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.guerrillawordfare.com/" target="_blank">Website</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.facebook.com/LizzyFordBooks" target="_blank" title="Lizzy Ford Books">Facebook</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://twitter.com/LizzyFord2010" target="_blank" title="Lizzy Ford on Twitter">Twitter</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://instagram.com/lizzyfordauthor" target="_blank">Instagram</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://plus.google.com/u/0/112799803228451607781/posts" target="_blank" title="Lizzy on g+">Google+</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://pinterest.com/lizzyfordauthor/" target="_blank" title="Lizzy on Pinterest">Pinterest</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.wattpad.com/user/LizzyFord" target="_blank" title="Lizzy on Wattpad">Wattpad</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4558309.Lizzy_Ford" target="_blank" title="Lizzy on Goodreads">Goodreads</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.linkedin.com/in/lizzyfordauthor" target="_blank" title="Lizzy on LinkedIn">LinkedIn</a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-74520684639165548462014-04-24T19:42:00.000-06:002014-04-24T19:42:03.349-06:00A Letter to My ChildrenDear Harley, Demetry, Jace and Lexia,<br />
<br />
As I look at this screen, everything I want to say floods my mind. Drowning me in thoughts and memories of you as surely as the tears that fall without fail from my eyes. Its been almost a month since I've seen you. A month since I've heard your voices, heard your laughs, held you in my arms. A month since I've played with you, got mad at you for not listening. A month since I was able to tell you that I love you.<br />
<br />
Everyday, other parents take for granted those moments. They get mad when they're busy and their children come up to them, interrupting them to tell them something they find funny. They take for granted the growing pains of raising a little person. They get frustrated when their kids act up. When they throw fits. Scream and yell and demand to get their way. I was one of those parents. I got mad at you, Demetry, when you decided to make 'pancakes' on the living room carpet at 3am when everyone was asleep. I got mad at you, Harley, for waking your baby brother and sister up at 5am because you wanted to play. But, ever since October 2013 when our family fell apart and I was left with no choice but to give you to your dad because I couldn't take you to become homeless with me, I would give anything in the world to have those moments back again. To be <i>able</i> to be mad and upset with you for all the silly, irresponsible things that you guys do that drive me insane. I would take you guys at your worst for every day of my life than to feel this overwhelming pain that not having you, not being able to see you or hear your voices brings me.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
I hope, one day, that you'll be able to realize that the decision I made wasn't easy. Giving you guys up was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life. But I <i>need</i> you to be safe. You guys needed a home and security, and as much as it pains me, I'm not able to give it to you yet.<br />
<br />
But, I made you all a promise, and I always keep my promises. I promised you as you all were crying, as you, Harley, were screaming for me to keep you, that I'd be able to bring you home one day. That, some day, I'd be able to get a house where we all could live. Our own magic kingdom just like the ones we talked about every night before you fell asleep. And I will do that. I don't care how long it takes, I will keep my promise. Even when that day comes, and you all are older and don't understand yet everything that happened and hate me for it, I will still offer you a home. You may not accept it. You may not want to be with me anymore by then, and that's okay, because your happiness means more to me than anything else in the world.<br />
<br />
So, even if you do end up hating me, I hope you never forget that I love you. That there's not a moment in a day that goes by where I don't think of you, and want more than anything to have you home with me. You guys are my world, are everything that has ever been important to me.<br />
<br />
Until I can see you again, I wish for you to be happy.<br />
<br />
I love you, forever and always.<br />
<br />
Mommy<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw0ZMIeJdJeAyj0HOmkXnEFGIQOWmzLlMXRupRmnJV2P19O9I6NjLZPTtIfAEN-fX91JyF8psos8LpMIvP9DQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373480456735067665.post-28408893560068616622014-03-24T10:23:00.001-06:002014-03-24T10:23:08.073-06:00And The Walls Come Tumbling DownIt's been over 7 months since my last post. You'd think that things would have gotten better, that everything would have worked out, and my family and I would have stayed together. Life isn't that easy, or kind. I've, for the most part, stayed silent about everything that's happened. I've stayed silent about how my world, my life, was destroyed. About how hard I've been fighting. But I don't want to do that anymore.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>First Comes Pain</b></div>
<br />
We ended up not finding another place to go after our eviction. Still, I had hope that we would make it. That, somehow, we'd still remain a family. I should have known better, because the lessons life has taught me since I was young prove that you can't always have what you want, no matter how much you want it. I didn't know that Jeremy thought that I didn't love him anymore. That with how much time I had spent writing was hurting him. I thought that he was supportive, that he understood and stood beside me. I didn't see the jealousy that he carried over my books. Didn't see how much I hurt him, and I'm sorry for that.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Then Comes Betrayal</b></div>
<br />
After the eviction, I took the kids down to Florida with me to stay with my dad. I didn't have anywhere else to go, and didn't know what else to do. The kids and I were waiting for him to come down. He had a court appointment, so had to stay behind, but said he'd be down right after. He never showed. For reasons that I won't get into on here, my father kicked the children and I out, leaving us no other choice but to come back up to Indiana. To Jeremy. He was living with his parents, and since I wasn't allowed there, he put me up in a motel room for two days. On Monday, while his parents were at work, I came over to see him and the kids. That's when I found out that he was never going to come down. That he thought I didn't love him anymore, and instead of talking to me, asking me if I did or not, he decided that he would find someone else who would love him. And it wasn't me.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Then Comes Destruction</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I became homeless and living out of my van. In that one moment, my world was destroyed. My life, my hope, who I had been for years, was just suddenly gone. In that one moment, I lost someone I had loved and given up everything for for eight years. In that one moment, I had lost my children. In that one moment, I had lost my will to live anymore. To this day I don't know why I kept fighting. What it was that was in me that didn't allow me to give up. I'm manic depressive, and had spent the majority of my teenage years in and out of psych wards for suicide, so you'd think that I'd be a pro at giving up. At giving in. But for some reason, I just couldn't. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I didn't have any money, had been a stay at home mom for years with only a handful of jobs thrown in here and there when needed. But luckily, the crew at McDonald's didn't care about that. They hired me, and because of that I got to eat whenever I was working, so I didn't starve. I had a little bit of money to where I could somewhat help support my kids, even if I didn't get to see them.<br />
<br />
Still to this day, six months later, I rarely get to see them. There will be promises where I can go down and see them, meet him somewhere, or that he'll bring them up to me, but things are constantly getting in the way. You need to understand that I'm not placing the blame fully on him. I know what I have done wrong, and what I could have done better. I know that I, in part, am to blame too. But with everything that's happened, with my life basically being wiped clean, maybe I'm where I'm supposed to be.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Then Comes Hope</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I have to believe that things happened for a reason. That there's a silver lining to this dark cloud. To this never ending pain and torment. With everything in my life gone, wiped clean, I now have the opportunity to start again. To fully start again and make my life what I want it to be. Maybe I'm just too much of an optimist, forever seeing the reason behind pain that have no real reason at all, but I have to have hope. That's the only thing that I have left. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So I shall hope, and I shall bust my ass working towards that hope. It may not be this year, or even next year, but I will become the princess who can save herself. I <i>will</i> create my own safety net. One that no one has the power or ability to take away because it was of my own creation. I will be the type of woman that my children can look up to and be proud of, and I will do whatever it takes to get them back.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I didn't write this post to get pity. I didn't write it for empathy or to cast my woe's out unto the world. I wrote it, to let you, the readers know. I wrote it, to show you that I haven't lost my voice. That I'm okay. At the end of the day, I will always be okay, and if I'm not, then I will be eventually.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
For now, I'm staying at my co-workers house. Chris is an extraordinary woman. She's 54 years old, and has taken me under my wing. In a time when I needed it most, she appeared, and I'm eternally grateful for that. I'm busting ass at a minimum wage job, and constantly on the look out for a better one. Lets face it, no one can make it on minimum wage. Hopefully sometime soon I'll get a better job, but for now, this will do.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>My Voice Remains</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Don't fear that I've quit writing. I may have stopped for awhile when I couldn't find it in me to write because of everything that was going on, but I was quick to get back on the wagon. There will be more books released this year, including the re-vamped version of The Prophecy (I've added another 50k words to it.... whoops), the second installment of the Divinity Stone Series, Bud's Diner #2, and a number of other projects very near and dear to me that I will announce at a later date. My words still remain my voice, and will always remain my voice. I can't wait to share my voice with you, and hopefully share some good news with you soon.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I shall try to pick back up blogging, whether to dish out book news, some odd and end reviews, or just ramble on about the madness that is my life, and my mind. I can't promise that it will be like clockwork, but I can promise that I am thankful for each and every one of you, and that there's nothing in this life or the next that I can do to show you how much you all mean to me.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Take care of yourself, and each other.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Until next time, Happy Reading.</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15268714805533841253noreply@blogger.com0