Happy Dancing on a Saturday!

Just had to share this wonderful review from Diane Ramsey at Offbeat vagabond:

indie-book-review-catalyst-guardian.html

Check it out! What a wonderful way to start my day. Now I feel re-energized and ready to create more magic.

Winter Storms

I noticed on the Weather Channel the other night they have started giving name to the winter storms that sweep across from Pacific to Atlantic. Not sure how long they have been doing this, but I was amused at the concept. I remember when the news channels first started naming the storms with catchy titles, so I decided to think back on a few memorable winter events here in Northwest Georgia.

SnowJam '82 - This was the first of 'events' that I remember. There was an ice storm in 1972 or 1973 but I don't think there were names. The snow began to fall around 2:00 in the afternoon and by the 5:00 rush hour it was total gridlock. I was working in Buckhead and living on Lenox Road. My normal commute of twenty minutes turned into two hours. The roads were packed and impassable. Cars were sliding here and there out of control and my car was three weeks old. It was chaos. My sister was in downtown Atlanta and it took her ten hours to go seven miles. The city was shut down for days.

The Storm of the Century - In the early 1990's, a major snow event converged over the state. We got 8" of snow in no time at all. It was awesome. We built a snow fort again (1st was in 1985 at a snow event I think was called Winter Storm 85) and skied down the hill in front of our house. Hubby had a 4-wheel drive SUV at the time and we braved the elements to rescue some friends with no heat. The grocery store behind us had no power and we got steaks for pennies from the coolers as they warmed. By noon the next day it was all melted and gone, except for the pictures.

Our Christmas vacation back in 200? we went to Colorado to ski and arrived as a massive storm landed on top of the state. They literally closed the expressway behind us as we drove from Denver to Breckenridge. The skiing was great, but after five days of non-stop snow it actually became a little boring. Never thought I would actually say those words, but too much of a good thing, etc.

Now we have names to contend with. Perhaps that will be easier than the catchy news program names, but I know I will miss the reporter out in the elements with their 'voices of impending doom' regaling us with every possible detail over and over again. If they ever do away with them, I might just swear off television completely!

January Let Down

The holidays are packed away and the weather has gone to the dogs. Yep, it's January again. The start of a brand new year, but the weather sure feels recycled. For some reason January feels like such a month of let downs.

I want to be skiing in Colorado, or swimming in the warmth of the Caribbean but I'm stuck at home wishing for another time and another place. For years helpful hubby and I have used January to rest and start anew. But with so many losses in recent years, January has become the month of not again.

Do you remember being a kid? Do you remember how difficult it was to go back to school after the Christmas Holiday break? That's what I feel like. All the wind is gone from my sails and my thoughts are as frenetic as the weather we are experiencing. What I would do for just one month where the weather and my moods would co-operate.

Perhaps I have a bad case of SAD (seasonal affective disorder)? Lack of sunshine can definitely make me grumpy. I love turning my face to the sun, just like any sunflower soaking up all the Vitamin D I can in the shorter daylight hours.

Well, all things happen, and so January will come around every year. Darn it.

I Have Lost My Mind, Again

Last summer helpful hubby and I created our first vegetable garden since our marriage twenty-five years ago. It was a comedy from beginning to end but I did end up with quite a haul in canned beans and pickles. Well last night I did it again. The wheels have been set in motion for another adventure - I ordered this season's seeds.

While we did manage to get seed from most of our harvest, the tomatoes, watermelon, and corn were a bust. I decided what I'm going to do is take seeds from last year and new ones just in case. I believe this is called hedging your bets. If what I did last year was wrong, I have a Plan B.

After carefully shopping websites for heirloom seeds, I settled on Victory Heirloom Seeds. The prices were reasonable for the quantity of seed provided, and their website was easy to navigate. Why heirloom seeds? First of all what I am trying to do is create my own sustainable seed bank. Second, I don't try seeds that have been grown as hybrid. There is no way to know what was used to produce the plants. Third - these taste better than hybrids!

Last Sunday I made my way down to the garden spot to check everything out and who did I find nesting there but my old nemesis - turnip greens! Angered I stomped off to see the cows. Let them enjoy the sun while they can! Soon it will be time to fire up the tractor and weed those greens out for good!

So as I work on my newest WIP and await word on two submissions a part of my brain will be making garden plan-o-grams and composting horse manure for fertilizer. That should make the winter go faster, waiting for the sun to return to this hemisphere and for nature's bounty to begin poking their little heads through the warm ground.

Turnip greens - this is you last warning!

We Have Winners!

Congratulations to:

Melissa Bourne and Michelle Bledsoe!

Rafflecopter has picked these two wonderful Hoppers as winner of my give away. Emails have been sent and soon prizes will be selected. Once everything has settled I will let everyone know what they chose.

Thank you so much to everyone who visited. I hope you enjoyed what you found and will take the time to stop back by every once in a while and see what nonsense we have been up down here in the sunny South. One thing I am never short on is opinions.

Seriously, thanks. The turnout was tremendous and every blog I visited was 'hoppin' along'! Happy New Year. With such a tremendous kick-off, I can't wait to see where we go from here.

We Interrupt This Blog Hop...

...for a little bit of shamelss self-promotion:

Today on Laurie's Paranormal Thoughts and Reviews:  ME!!


Featured Author Today

Thanks so much to Laurie Jenkins and her fabulous blog!


We now return you to Carrie Ann's Blog Hop - one more day to win excellent prizes and connect with an amazing group of authors/bloggers.

Still Hopping into 2013!

WELCOME to Day Six - THE LAST DAY!

Remember - There will be over 200 giveaways on each blog hosted by that Author or Blogger.

But that's not all....

We have THREE grand prizes. You as a reader can go to EACH blog and comment with your email address and be entered to win. Yep, you can enter over 200 times!

Now what are those prizes?

1st Grand Prize: A Kindle Fire or Nook Tablet

2nd Grand Prize: A $300 Amazon or B&N Gift Card

3rd Grand Prize: A Swag Pack that contains paperbacks, ebooks, 50+ bookmarks, cover flats, magnets, pens, coffee cozies, and more!

Carrie Ann Ryan
http://www.carrieannryan.com/
http://carrieannbloghops.blogspot.com/

Again today we are participating in Carrie Ann's New Year's Blog Hop. Another year has come and gone, the end of the world didn't happen and now we are stuck in a year ending in Unlucky Number 13! But don't let that stop you, this year is a clean slate, the chance to right the problems from the previous one. What is the strangest New Year's resolution you ever made? Did you keep it? Chances are probably not.

The tradition of making promises on the turn of the year goes all the way back to the Phoenicians who promised their gods to return any borrowed objects and pay all their debts. In ancient Rome, promises were made to the pagan god Janus, for whom January is named, and the knights of the Middle Ages took a 'peacock vow' at New Year's as a symbol of their renewed commitment to chivalry and chastity.

There is no hard and fast formula for resolutions. Some people say you must make them before the final stroke of midnight on New Year's eve. Others are more liberal and say it should be done before the end of the first day of January. I'm not sure if there is any research as to success rates depending on when you make your vows.

The overall success rate for those who swear this year will be about 20%. Men are more capable of lasting than women; I would say because of their hard headed stance about failure. I quit making any resolutions when I stopped to think about the hypocrisy of the whole thing. Either I would keep these promises because I was truly sincere about the change asked for; or it was something I already do.

But expecting life long behavior changes because of a day seems a waste of time. So take them as you will. Let me know about the strangest New Year's resolutions you've made, and did you keep it. There will be two prizes, a $25 Amazon or B&N gift card (winner's choice) and a signed copy of my ebook, "Catalyst - Guardian Rising".



Now Available From Keith Publishing: Catalyst - Guardian Rising

In a post-apocalyptic future, the fate of the rebuilding world hangs in the balance. An unknown power seeks the forbidden knowledge needed to unleash total devastation once more upon a fragile Earth. It falls to one woman to safeguard the future of the Five Kingdoms.

Princess of the West, Vivienne has been plagued by nightmare visions of past and future since the moment of her birth. Now, to save all she loves from destruction, she must rise above the crippling self-doubts that have assailed her since childhood to become the prophesied Guardian—because the enemy is moving, and the world will soon plunge into a war of sword and sorcery.

But who is the enemy? And who is a friend? Can Vivienne trust anyone apart from her sworn protector, Devon?

The answers lurk in the past—but should the past be destroyed to protect the future?

Show More

Show Less

Excerpt from "Catalyst - Guardian Rising" :

My Nightmares

"...The Council of Elders thinks I am insane, unlucky to be born a woman and too young at the age of nineteen for the responsibility as my father’s only heir. Perhaps I am crazy. I did not ask for these dreams, these voices directing my actions. I have been cursed to spend my life reliving the nightmare of my birth. It has haunted my dreams since early childhood. The dreams created within me a deeply ingrained sense of doubt, questions of worth and abilities. Perhaps if the birth had been normal, all the torment and guilt which burned itself into my psyche would have ceased to be the essence of who I am. Instead, I was fated to have this repetitive horror as much a part of my nature as the blood streaming through my veins. My birth was a circus of violence, bloodshed, war and death. Hallmarks that created the basic characteristics of my personality were defined at the time of my voyage into this life.

For most of my life, from childhood through present, my dreams have encompassed a vast array of subjects, some familiar, others not. Sometimes I’ve dreamed of a strange world, where the sky pulsed a sickening shade of reddish-orange and the ground ran slick with blood. Other dreams contained mere shadows of people I did not know, doing things I could not see. Those dreams did not impress my brain enough to record their intimate details into my memories. But the complex details of my most horrific nightmares … those I have remembered with excruciating exactness. Those nightmares have at times driven me to the farthest reaches of my sanity where madness beckoned with welcoming arms, laughing when I gasped for air and tried to recoil from the horror.

In these repetitive, abominable shows, there is no past, no future — only an uneasy sense of existing simply in the“now.”

My worst and therefore most prevalent nightmare always starts at the same place: the laboring of my mother just prior to my birth. In this horror show, I can see the room and the people involved through several different sets of eyes, some at the same time. This gives me some interesting perspectives on everyone and their motivations. Despite the impossibilities involved in the complex process of dreaming, when I am locked within these nightmares, events never seem to be a part of my past. Everything and everyone seems to be moving in the “now,” not the “then.” But the pain and terror and the horror are always mine. I need bear no other person’s baggage — I have enough of my own.

Everyone is a product of their past. Since well before my birth my father, the Western Kingdom and the Northern Warrior tribes had been defending their borders against repeated incursions by followers of Minnlin, a renegade Druid, with exceptional talent for Mysticism and War Craft. Fifty years before my birth the Druid Master of that time, a grim fellow named Reave, gave his permission for the young Minnlin to be given instruction in both areas.

The Druids gave him free rein over the knowledge contained in their massive libraries. In their folly they allowed the young man to study unobserved and unsupervised within the forbidden Books they were sworn by oath to protect from abuse.With this lack of oversight from his teachers, Minnlin grew in talent but with apparently no sense of right and wrong. The Masters tried to keep the monster they created confined in the safety of the community.Too late they realized the potential for destruction he possessed.But Minnlin had seen his future, and he knew it did not lie within the thick stone walls of the Druid's Mountain Fortress. For half a century, the threat of a druid unbound to the Oath hung over the Five Kingdoms.

In fall, early November to be precise, the first winter snows began storming in from the oceans. Our lands, the Five Kingdoms, were thrust into sudden and horrific warfare. As the heavy, black thunderclouds began rolling over the craggy mountains that marched across the Western horizon, enemy forces in the East streamed up from the Plains through the rapidly closing passes and into the Forbidden Mountains, leaving behind the more hospitable lower climate. They continued fighting skirmishes and ambushes over the next six weeks. Both sides gained and lost territory during these encounters.

Even though my birth was imminent my mother, Katarina, decided to make a visit to see my father, the Western king, in the field becauseshe was determined not to give birth alone. She traveled to his headquarters, close to the actual front line, the manor home of friends King Der, ruler of the Northern Tribes, and his wife, Mari. With Der’s youngest brother Devon and Hana, a Tracker who was retraining as a Healer, also in residence, the king’s house was a safe harbor in the midst of war. My father, Philippe, was a nervous wreck having his very pregnant wife anywhere close to the fighting. But he was so happy to see Katarina after an absence of more than two months, for the first and only time in his life, Philippe threw caution to the winds and left his field tent for the traditional Winter Solstice Celebration truce and returned to the manor house to stay with Katarina. Before he could arrive, my mother went into labor."

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/f792290/


http://carrieannbloghops.blogspot.com/2013/01/new-year-blog-hop-updated-list.html

I Am a Writer?

All my life I wanted to be a writer. Not just a scribbler, or a newspaper reporter but a real novelist along the lines of a Heinlein or Dorothy Parker. But when your own insecurities are the demons that laugh at you in the cold hours of night, sometimes it is best to let the dreams sit for a while; and so I did. I went to college, got a job, got married, had children - all the things society claims will make us happy and fulfilled. But they were wrong.

Sure, you might think everything is alright but deep inside there is a piece of you screaming for recognition. Then one day you decide to give in to the whisper and see what happens. That's what I did when my oldest went to college. With a sudden empty spot in my head, freed up from the constant worry that accompanies a son who seemed at time determined to do the exact opposite of what he was told regardless of the side effects, I decided the time had come to put the stories to paper.

When I completed the first draft of my debut novel, "Catalyst - Guardian Rising", I did what any new author might do - starting looking into getting published. I had two reasons in mind: first of all to become rich and famous (lol) and second, more important to me, to have someone tell me I knew what I was doing. To hear that accolade would mean the world to the deeply insecure person that is me. The first editor I sent a sample for a paid analysis told me yes, I do have a knack for the craft. I will forever be in his debt for all the assistance and suggestions he has given over the past three years.

I stand in awe of published writers. Having completed two full length novels in less than three years while working a full time job, raising a family, and working with rescued horses - has left me a little exhausted. Slowly I feel my creative thoughts starting to fire again, but I don't intend to push it. The story is there, I just have to coax the characters to share it with me.

This is my first post of a monthly Blog Hog, sponsored by The Insecure Writer's Support Group, and I must confess this is a group I am excited to join. My deepest confession of this first month of the New Year is this: Now that I have written the books, where do I go from here? Promotions? Writer Groups? Do I need an agent or keep going  it alone? Am I making the best use of my scarce free time? Do I still know what I am doing?

I look forward to this New Year with deep enthusiasm and a renewed commitment to the craft, and I look forward to more Blog Hops with the IWSG.

Now Available From Keith Publishing: Catalyst - Guardian Rising

In a post-apocalyptic future, the fate of the rebuilding world hangs in the balance. An unknown power seeks the forbidden knowledge needed to unleash total devastation once more upon a fragile Earth. It falls to one woman to safeguard the future of the Five Kingdoms.

Princess of the West, Vivienne has been plagued by nightmare visions of past and future since the moment of her birth. Now, to save all she loves from destruction, she must rise above the crippling self-doubts that have assailed her since childhood to become the prophesied Guardian—because the enemy is moving, and the world will soon plunge into a war of sword and sorcery.

But who is the enemy? And who is a friend? Can Vivienne trust anyone apart from her sworn protector, Devon?

The answers lurk in the past—but should the past be destroyed to protect the future?

Show More

Show Less

Excerpt from "Catalyst - Guardian Rising" :

I grew from a lanky, awkward, skinny girl into a tall, well-muscled, and fit teenager; I was five-seven and no longer looked like a scarecrow. Soon after I arrived, the rest of my body began to fill in, and the angles finally rounded out into curves. By the time of my sixteenth birthday, even Uncle Alastyre had to admit my beauty exceeded the wildest imagination and hopes.

My hair, of course, was still silver, with some darker streaks underneath and my eyes were still odd, switching from purple to gray randomly. The druids were working on a theory as to their strange origin. The most accepted was, because there are so many members of my family on both sides with varying strong talents, the eyes were a blending of the potential powers with which I was born. Once I declared which art I would dedicate myself to study, the other colors would depart, leaving me with the one traditional color. They had been working on this theory for four years, and my eyes were still multicolored. Just another oddity.

            Once I began to grow into my body, my skills as a Warrior began to improve. Theirran kept his promise to work with me when he was at the Fortress, which became more frequent as I grew older, stronger, and more competent. Occasionally, he would tell me what was going on with his family, except for Devon; what he didn’t tell me, I would gather from his mind without his consent. It was wrong, but I needed the knowledge to keep some semblance of sanity.

 From Theirran’s memories, I discovered after the three brothers left us that cold winter morning on the road to the Fortress, they chased down leads and trails for months. Der and Theirran had broken off the chase and returned to the Northerns before the winter snows closed off all roads until spring. Devon continued the chase off and on for three years, stopping at the Citadel or Der’s home when he was in the vicinity. I never once directly asked about Devon, but I always knew in my head and heart where he was. Perhaps our detractors were right to keep us so far apart. Though he was never close enough to test me, I knew inside the marrow of my bones I would have run away with him. But for whatever reason, Devon never came to the Fortress or its surrounding areas while I was there, not until the spring after my sixteenth birthday.

            That spring was glorious. My studies were going so well in Mysticism and Healing I had been given time off to concentrate on War Craft. While I was beginning to excel in fencing and tactical strategy, I had proven myself to be horrible at scouting and worse at tracking. A large bear could walk right in front of me for miles and I would miss the signs. So I was given extra assignments to learn where the processing errors kept happening. My fellow students tried to help me, but there was only so much they or anyone could do. I was, in a word, hopeless.

            On this particular day, two of us had been assigned to check out a small lake, nestled in a valley near the border between the Western Kingdom and the Fortress territory. Several druid Warriors had been sent out three days previously and we were supposed to track them from the Fortress to their final destination, which only the Warriors knew. A blind hunt, they called it. The ability to track down a person after accidentally crossing a trail was one of the more advanced skills. So far, I was no better than average.

            Sauk, my partner, was son of the Torran, ruler of the Southern Territory, and his talent lay in War Craft. The exercise mainly was for his training; soon he would be leaving the Fortress to return home, but he volunteered to try as a tutor to improve my tracking scores. I was grateful for his assistance and attention, because he was one of the best-looking students at the Fortress, as well as an excellent tracker.

Sauk was tall, taller than me, with jet-black hair, dark, black-brown eyes and skin the warm tan so prevalent among those who lived in the Southern Territory. When he smiled, which was often, the cutest little dimples appeared on his cheeks. Just as any woman who met him, I had a huge crush and felt a little nervous knowing we would be out on the trail together for at least three days. But this was all about learning a difficult skill, not a dating game, so I was sure he would be a gentleman. Southerners were always gracious.

There was a rumor in the Fortress that Sauk became the crown prince under a cloud of suspicion. His older brother died in a hunting accident; some whispered it had been Sauk’s arrow that had slain him. I remembered from political lessons with my father hearing the Torran wasn’t happy with Sauk but had no other son to inherit the throne. But when you were in Sauk’s presence, it was easy to forget any questions once you looked into those deep black eyes. They were mesmerizing yet vaguely unsettling.

            When we reached the lake, things became interesting from the very beginning. First, we ran across two different trails. That was a bit of a surprise, marking two trails would not have been part of the druid’s exercise. After much debate, we decided each of us would take a trail for a short way, and then meet to decide which was the main trail and which a decoy. It was a sound plan, using the rules spelled out for novice trackers. Before we split, Sauk rode up close, facing me. Removing his helmet, he shook his hair and looked at the sky and the darkening clouds rolling in.

            “Listen, Vivienne, if it starts to rain before we meet, just remember to follow that western mountain ridge back to this point. The trail you are going to be following lies almost due east, so heading back toward the ridge should bring you straight back to the lake, okay?”

            I took a deep breath. “Okay.”

            He smiled his brilliant smile. “That’s the spirit. You’ll be fine. If you run into anything you cannot handle, just scream. I’m sure I can find you.”

            “Ha, ha, ha. You think there is something out here that I can’t handle? I do have some skills in other areas; you might be wise to remember. Maybe you should scream if you run into anything.”

            Sauk smiled again. “Deal.”

That’s when the other interesting thing happened. Before I could put my helmet on, Sauk leaned over and grasped my wrist. I looked at him with one eyebrow raised. He had already turned nineteen. This made him three years older, a fact which made my heart race more whenever I thought about him. Several of the other, older female acolytes had been romantically linked to Sauk, and their stories were pure adolescent raging hormonal drivel, fascinating and slightly terrifying to those of us who were considered pious or chaste. But just the look in his eyes was making my heart pound crazy rhythms all on its own. He had magnetic charisma.

His eyes still locked on mine, he bent down and kissed me, gently at first, then with more assurance as I began kissing him back. It was a wonderful sensation, his soft lips against mine, his hand behind my head, fingers entwined in my hair. Sparked with electricity from an internal generator, my hormone system went into overdrive. I might be a princess and a freak, but inside I was a sixteen-year-old girl with screaming puberty angst. At any moment I could have burst into full flame and charred us both into dust. I began breathing a little too heavily. Then, as suddenly as it began, Sauk pulled away, a strange, superior expression in his dark eyes.

            “See you later,” he promised, then replaced his helmet and rode away down the chosen trail, laughter ringing out behind him. Shaking the cobwebs out of my brain, I headed down the other track. My body didn’t feel heavy enough to stay in the saddle. While it hadn’t been the romantic swoon some of the other girls professed to have experienced, it was still my first kiss and Sauk was extremely handsome. But I needed to get down to business or I was going to fail this task in magnificent fashion. To make sure I didn’t miss anything vital here in the open field, I dismounted Shae and began to walk the trail, watching the bent blades of grass as best I could. Before I could get too far, I heard a voice very close at hand, a voice I hadn’t expected or heard from in many a year.

            “Well, that was uncalled for, don’t you think?”

            I stood up from my crouched position so fast the world spun for a moment. Devon leaned against a large oak tree just ahead at a small bend on the trail. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was the one who made the second, yet more defined trail. I was so surprised to see him I completely forgot the strained circumstances under which we had last seen each other.

            We stood face-to-face without touching for what seemed an eternity, each one studying the other, noticing the changes brought about during these long years spent apart. I knew what he saw when looking at me. No longer was I the shy, under-confident, awkward twelve-year-old he had left behind in the snow that horrible winter morning. I was taller, filled out in all the right places. I was strong, lithe, and poised. I would say I had become a self-assured and beautiful woman.

            For his part, nothing much had changed. Devon was still the best-looking man I had ever laid eyes on — even including the boy who had just given me my first kiss. Devon’s eyes were that deep, clear green I remembered so well, with a few more lines at the corners. There were also more lines between his eyes and around his mouth, as though he were more accustomed to frowning than smiling. His boots and cloak were mud-spattered and stained, worn by one who had traveled a long way very quickly. While I stared in wide-eyed amazement, he graced me with one of those perfect smiles, the one that reached down into my soul and reminded me of sunshine. He cocked his head and held his arms open wide, an invitation I never could resist.

            “Oh my God, Devon!” It was difficult to hear my voice, seeing as how my face was pressed against his chest. Even though I was taller than the twelve-year-old I used to be, he was taller still. “Why are you here? Is everything okay?” My happiness suddenly vanished as I thought of all the reasons, none of them good, why he could be here. I leaned back in fright. “Is something wrong with my father? With your family?”

            “Calm down and don’t worry. Everything is fine, I promise. I was simply in the area and saw you and your ‘partner’. I decided to hang around and see how you were doing. I heard through the wind you aren’t having much luck tracking. Then I saw him take advantage of the remote and secluded location, and I waited around to see if you needed me to straighten him out. But obviously I was mistaken. You didn’t even notice me until I spoke.” Devon’s voice cracked ever so slightly. If my senses hadn’t been on alert from the tracking exercise, I doubt I would have noticed it. “Is he someone important to you?” The attempted off-hand way he asked let me know he was concerned.

            “No, not really.” I replied with a full-on blush spreading from the top of my head down to my toes. “Sauk is about to leave and return to the Torran to assume his duties as the crown prince. He volunteered to help me with some tracking practice. Because I really do stink at tracking. This is the first time he has even expressed any interest in me, other than as a tracking partner. Until today, I wasn’t even sure he knew my name.”

            Devon snorted. “Tracking partner. Right. Trust me, Vivi; his thoughts have been geared toward a different sort of partnership, I’m sure of it. He wouldn’t be human if he wasn’t.” He rubbed his hand across his face. I couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed at having seen Sauk kiss me or if he was extremely cross.

            “Devon, stop it. It was just a kiss.” I wasn’t sure what exactly he was so upset about.

            “Well?”

            “Well what?”

“Did you?” The look on Devon’s face was priceless, part innocent but mostly obnoxious.

            “Did I what?”

            “Enjoy it?”

            His attitude was beginning to make me angry. “I don’t know. I mean, not that this is any of your business, and I have no idea why I am telling you this, but I have nothing to compare his kiss against. That was my first kiss. Ever.”

            He leaned over closer so he could look straight into my eyes. “That was your first kiss?” I could feel his soft breath against my skin, that warm, delicious, musk fragrance that was all him. I always associated it with safety and love. He was easily overpowering my already shaky senses. “I guess you kissing me good-bye so long ago didn’t count?”
            “No, I don’t count that as a real kiss; I was only twelve. For all it should concern you, yes, this was my first real kiss.” I knew I was beet red from head to toe, but I refused to look away. I wanted him to see me, not my embarrassment. After all, I wasn’t a child anymore.

            We stood there looking at each other for one long heartbeat. Suddenly, my brain was not controlling my body; my raging hormones were. Their actions were not those I would have taken if I were in my right mind. But because I wasn’t, I plowed ahead full steam, looking at him with a curious expression on my face.

            Devon frowned at me. “I know that look. You want something. Go ahead, spit it out.”

            “Do you want to kiss me? Give me something to compare with? Or is that why you’re so angry? Are you jealous because someone else got there first?” If he was going to play, then so was I.

            His face went blank. “No, I am not jealous. You see, I know who wins in the end. But right now, I don’t think kissing you would be a very good idea for either of us.”

            “Why not? You know we both want you to.”

            Devon took several slow, deep breaths before answering me. “Do you remember what Der said on that last day? About you and me and our inability to separate? I’m really testing the waters here, hoping that in the morning when you are ready to leave and return to the Fortress for the remaining three years, I won’t follow you or try to stop you. I’ve become stronger, more in control over these past years we’ve been apart, but I still don’t want to push it.”

            I thought about that for a minute. “I can respect that. In the meantime, I’m really sorry. I don’t want to hurt you more. I won’t push you. But I really would like to kiss you, someday.” I smiled broadly to let him see the honesty I was trying to convey.

            He smiled in return, brushing my hair back with his right hand. “Don’t worry about it. Our someday will come along, as we both know. Vivienne, I decided long ago to stop fighting against fate, to follow the course set out for us, take whatever comes as it comes and to always remember that I’m sixteen years older than you. Each year the emotional gap between us gets smaller. I know you aren’t ready for what my heart desires, but one day you will be. Our time will come; it’s just our clocks aren’t running together yet.”

            “I know.” As soon as I said the words, I knew this man and I were meant to be together forever. Whether by magic or fate, we were paired and there could be no other person for either of us. We had to wait for me to turn nineteen before Devon would touch me in any way remotely intimate, or at least my brain knew this. At that moment, however, my body would have gladly sold the rest of me out for just a little more time alone. “What difference can it make? If we are meant to be, surely there can’t be any harm …?”

            “You say that now, but what about when I die and leave you alone, young and widowed? Devon said it with a slight smile on his face, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Or you decide to run off with some handsome prince closer in age?”

            “But the dreams show that we are fated to marry.”

            “Are you having more dreams?” Devon was instantly on alert to either talk with me or do damage control. With my temper, you never knew which to prepare to handle.

            Frowning, I nodded. I hadn’t meant to say anything about the dreams and I didn’t want to change the subject.

            “What have you seen?”

            “Do you really want to know?”

            “Probably not. On the one hand, I need to know if we are still having the same dreams. To see if the physical separation has changed anything or if we are still linked. But at the same time, there are things I don’t know how to discuss with you.”

            “You figure prominently in many of them, Devon, if that helps. By the way, when did you get that new scar on your left hip?” I tried to keep a straight face but I think I failed miserably.

            Devon winced as though I had hit him. “That’s what I was afraid of. You’ve had the dream …”

            The blush I’d had just moments before came back with a vengeance. “Yes, I’ve had it. Rather vivid, actually. I usually have that dream around the full moon every month. I’ve grown to use it as a predictor for … other reasons.”

            Devon rubbed his hands across his face, walked away, and began to pace, back and forth across the grass between the lake and the tree. It was to cover his embarrassment; this time I was sure. It seemed strange to have things we could not talk about openly the way we did before. The whole dynamic of our relationship had changed, and I knew why. I was no longer a little girl. I was grown, closer in physical image to the Vivienne he had been fantasizing about since that bizarre day. I had been using some of my spare thought to process how this would affect Devon ever since the first time I experienced the dream in exquisite detail. It had to be hard for him to stand there and see me but not be with me.

I watched him struggle with the knowledge I also saw the pictures which disturbed him most, and tears sprang to my eyes. To keep him from noticing, I turned my back, pretending to study the trail that had led me to him. But apparently I was not very good at hiding my emotions. Especially not from Devon, not now that we had finally, to a degree, both acknowledged what had never been said or thought before: our futures were braided together, intricately woven in a pattern tighter than fabric. Everything seemed to be falling into place, but I wanted to pull Devon back to the present, keep him there with me beside the lake for a while longer. I was needy, but I didn’t care. He may have gotten stronger, but I hadn’t.

            “Devon, stay here tonight? I mean, Sauk will be here also, so it’s not like we would be alone. And hopefully having you around will keep his mind and hands where they should be. I don’t know if I could fight off too persistent a suitor, if you know what I mean. Right now my mind and body are not on speaking terms.”

            He stopped the pacing and looked at me with a thoughtful expression. It occurred to me reminding him we were not out here alone might not have been the best idea, given his earlier reaction to Sauk. Suddenly, he smiled at me with undoubtedly the coldest, most sarcastic smile he could summon, just as one might see on a cat that has swallowed a bird. He tilted his head to the west; we could both hear Sauk riding hard in our direction. Cocking his head toward the sound, I heard Devon whisper under his breath, “That might not be such a bad idea.” I rolled my eyes. This was going to be a long night.

 

2013 New Year's Blog Hop

WELCOME to DAY THREE!

 

Rmember - There will be over 200 giveaways on each blog hosted by that Author or Blogger.

But that's not all....

We have THREE grand prizes. You as a reader can go to EACH blog and comment with your email address and be entered to win. Yep, you can enter over 200 times!

 

Now what are those prizes?

 

1st Grand Prize: A Kindle Fire or Nook Tablet

2nd Grand Prize: A $300 Amazon or B&N Gift Card

3rd Grand Prize: A Swag Pack that contains paperbacks, ebooks, 50+ bookmarks, cover flats, magnets, pens, coffee cozies, and more!

Carrie Ann Ryan
http://www.carrieannryan.com/
http://carrieannbloghops.blogspot.com/

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Again today we are participating in Carrie Ann's New Year's Blog Hop. Another year has come and gone, the end of the world didn't happen and now we are stuck in a year ending in Unlucky Number 13! But don't let that stop you, this year is a clean slate, the chance to right the problems from the previous one. What is the strangest New Year's resolution you ever made? Did you keep it? Chances are probably not.

The tradition of making promises on the turn of the year goes all the way back to the Phoenicians who promised their gods to return any borrowed objects and pay all their debts. In ancient Rome, promises were made to the pagan god Janus, for whom January is named, and the knights of the Middle Ages took a 'peacock vow' at New Year's as a symbol of their renewed commitment to chivalry and chastity.

There is no hard and fast formula for resolutions. Some people say you must make them before the final stroke of midnight on New Year's eve. Others are more liberal and say it should be done before the end of the first day of January. I'm not sure if there is any research as to success rates depending on when you make your vows.

The overall success rate for those who swear this year will be about 20%. Men are more capable of lasting than women; I would say because of their hard headed stance about failure. I quit making any resolutions when I stopped to think about the hypocrisy of the whole thing. Either I would keep these promises because I was truly sincere about the change asked for; or it was something I already do.

But expecting life long behavior changes because of a day seems a waste of time. So take them as you will. Let me know about the strangest New Year's resolutions you've made, and did you keep it. There will be two prizes, a $25 Amazon or B&N gift card (winner's choice) and a signed copy of my ebook, "Catalyst - Guardian Rising".

 



Now Available From Keith Publishing: Catalyst - Guardian Rising

In a post-apocalyptic future, the fate of the rebuilding world hangs in the balance. An unknown power seeks the forbidden knowledge needed to unleash total devastation once more upon a fragile Earth. It falls to one woman to safeguard the future of the Five Kingdoms.

Princess of the West, Vivienne has been plagued by nightmare visions of past and future since the moment of her birth. Now, to save all she loves from destruction, she must rise above the crippling self-doubts that have assailed her since childhood to become the prophesied Guardian—because the enemy is moving, and the world will soon plunge into a war of sword and sorcery.

But who is the enemy? And who is a friend? Can Vivienne trust anyone apart from her sworn protector, Devon?

The answers lurk in the past—but should the past be destroyed to protect the future?

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Excerpt from "Catalyst - Guardian Rising" :

My Nightmares

"...The Council of Elders thinks I am insane, unlucky to be born a woman and too young at the age of nineteen for the responsibility as my father’s only heir. Perhaps I am crazy. I did not ask for these dreams, these voices directing my actions. I have been cursed to spend my life reliving the nightmare of my birth. It has haunted my dreams since early childhood. The dreams created within me a deeply ingrained sense of doubt, questions of worth and abilities. Perhaps if the birth had been normal, all the torment and guilt which burned itself into my psyche would have ceased to be the essence of who I am. Instead, I was fated to have this repetitive horror as much a part of my nature as the blood streaming through my veins. My birth was a circus of violence, bloodshed, war and death. Hallmarks that created the basic characteristics of my personality were defined at the time of my voyage into this life.

For most of my life, from childhood through present, my dreams have encompassed a vast array of subjects, some familiar, others not. Sometimes I’ve dreamed of a strange world, where the sky pulsed a sickening shade of reddish-orange and the ground ran slick with blood. Other dreams contained mere shadows of people I did not know, doing things I could not see. Those dreams did not impress my brain enough to record their intimate details into my memories. But the complex details of my most horrific nightmares … those I have remembered with excruciating exactness. Those nightmares have at times driven me to the farthest reaches of my sanity where madness beckoned with welcoming arms, laughing when I gasped for air and tried to recoil from the horror.

In these repetitive, abominable shows, there is no past, no future — only an uneasy sense of existing simply in the“now.”

My worst and therefore most prevalent nightmare always starts at the same place: the laboring of my mother just prior to my birth. In this horror show, I can see the room and the people involved through several different sets of eyes, some at the same time. This gives me some interesting perspectives on everyone and their motivations. Despite the impossibilities involved in the complex process of dreaming, when I am locked within these nightmares, events never seem to be a part of my past. Everything and everyone seems to be moving in the “now,” not the “then.” But the pain and terror and the horror are always mine. I need bear no other person’s baggage — I have enough of my own.

Everyone is a product of their past. Since well before my birth my father, the Western Kingdom and the Northern Warrior tribes had been defending their borders against repeated incursions by followers of Minnlin, a renegade Druid, with exceptional talent for Mysticism and War Craft. Fifty years before my birth the Druid Master of that time, a grim fellow named Reave, gave his permission for the young Minnlin to be given instruction in both areas.

The Druids gave him free rein over the knowledge contained in their massive libraries. In their folly they allowed the young man to study unobserved and unsupervised within the forbidden Books they were sworn by oath to protect from abuse. With this lack of oversight from his teachers, Minnlin grew in talent but with apparently no sense of right and wrong. The Masters tried to keep the monster they created confined in the safety of the community. Too late they realized the potential for destruction he possessed. But Minnlin had seen his future, and he knew it did not lie within the thick stone walls of the Druid's Mountain Fortress. For half a century, the threat of a druid unbound to the Oath hung over the Five Kingdoms.

In fall, early November to be precise, the first winter snows began storming in from the oceans. Our lands, the Five Kingdoms, were thrust into sudden and horrific warfare. As the heavy, black thunderclouds began rolling over the craggy mountains that marched across the Western horizon, enemy forces in the East streamed up from the Plains through the rapidly closing passes and into the Forbidden Mountains, leaving behind the more hospitable lower climate. They continued fighting skirmishes and ambushes over the next six weeks. Both sides gained and lost territory during these encounters.

Even though my birth was imminent my mother, Katarina, decided to make a visit to see my father, the Western king, in the field becauseshe was determined not to give birth alone. She traveled to his headquarters, close to the actual front line, the manor home of friends King Der, ruler of the Northern Tribes, and his wife, Mari. With Der’s youngest brother Devon and Hana, a Tracker who was retraining as a Healer, also in residence, the king’s house was a safe harbor in the midst of war. My father, Philippe, was a nervous wreck having his very pregnant wife anywhere close to the fighting. But he was so happy to see Katarina after an absence of more than two months, for the first and only time in his life, Philippe threw caution to the winds and left his field tent for the traditional Winter Solstice Celebration truce and returned to the manor house to stay with Katarina. Before he could arrive, my mother went into labor."

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/f792290/