Thanksgiving 2014

Happy Thanksgiving!


I sat here this morning and all the things I am grateful for began running through my brain. Suddenly I just had to sit down and write. The urge doesn't come often the days. I've been on a kick of reading instead of writing. For four years I did nothing but write and I've been catching up on all the books I'd missed.

But today is about thanks.

First and foremost I am thankful for my relationship with God and for his son Jesus Christ. I owe them everything. I thank God for my mind and the many different levels it work on; for my family and their love and support; and for saving me when I had nothing left but my eyes on Heaven.

I am thankful for growing up in a time when life was a little slower and people were a little nicer. I miss that.

I am thankful (believe if or not) for my high school and our active alumni association. Our school is gone now, closed and possibly scheduled for demolition, but the spirit that brought us state championships on and off the football field still lives through all of us  Go Lancers!

I am thankful for my friends, near and far; casual and close. Every connection brings new feelings and chances to learn and grow. I hope I am a positive influence on each person that I touch.

I am thankful for my animals, large and small. Three horses, three dogs, two cats, and one hinny. They make my life full, I only want to be the person they deserve.

I am thankful for my country warts and all. No other democracy has lasted this long and I view our problems as new growing pains. We will pull through this if people remember that the government serves at the will of the people. Learn to use your vote wisely. Put principles ahead of personality.

For most of my adult life we have spent Thanksgiving together with my family, but this year is different. We are apart and I feel the miles and differences stronger than in many years. I cry but they are happy tears, if that makes any sense.

I give thanks for all the stories running around in my head. I'm about ready to sit down and sort things out so until then please keep the cacophony in my mind to a minimum.

I give thanks for my husband. He's never failed to make me laugh when I needed one the most.

I give thanks for those who've read my books, They give me hope when I'm hopelessly blocked.

And on a day like today, I give thanks for pants with elastic waistbands. Turkey and dressing and cranberry sauce. What can I say?

Also, for a million and one things that I can't even remember. I always try to give thanks and praise when something as insignificant as a great parking space comes around.

As we enter into the holiday season, may everyone find the joy and peace this time of year seems to usher in. Remember to be open to new experiences and situations. Seek the companionship of those you love and revere. But mainly, give thanks for each new day, for each day is a new opportunity for growth and reflection.

I wish a warm and happy Thanksgiving to everyone around the world.

James Garner, Robin Williams, Lauren Bacall - Wow

Yesterday came the heartbreaking news that Robin Williams committed suicide. Now I just heard Lauren Bacall died this morning. I'm still trying to cope with the loss of James Garner. Slowly but steadily the idols of my life are passing away.

When someone like Robin Williams commits suicide, we are quick to look at their lifestyle to see if drugs or alcohol played a part. The simple truth is, they are human just like we are. Everyone of us gets depressed. For some people it is a life altering disease. It's all well and good for people to say, "Pick up your big girl panties and get on with it."; for some people that will never happen.

Severe depression begins with a chemical imbalance in the brain. It can be as slight as an occasional feeling of emptiness, or as critical as the inability to get out of bed or perform the simplest of tasks. It is influenced by our moods, our work, other people, no one and everyone. The worst feeling in the world is seeing someone you love wallowing in dark depression and there is nothing you can do for them.

It's time we removed the stigma of mental illness and let those who suffer know they aren't alone. For every person who cries out for help, there are dozens suffering in silence. Proper attention to the disease can help - therapy, medications, group sessions, nutritional counseling, these are but a few of the resources available for people in need.

If you are feeling overwhelmed, lost, unable to put one foot in front of another, or wondering if life would be better without you - reach out. Your life is precious, and there are people everywhere who want to help. Don't be afraid people will think less of you. They will praise you for making a stance for your life. It's the first step toward healing.

If you don't know where to start, dial 411 and ask for the Suicide Prevention Hotline. They are available 24 hours a day. Save your life - make a phone call.

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.

My newest release, "January Frost", is currently available on Amazon.com. It is completely different from "Catalyst", so be sure to check it out. It's a romance combining two of my favorite things: horses and love.

That's all for this month. See you on the first Wednesday of July for another IWSG meeting. TTFN.

Some Background on "January Frost"

My new release, "January Frost", combines two of my favorite things: horses and writing. If life were made by wishes, then I would writing this on the porch of my farm house overlooking pastures of fat, happy horses. But this is the real world, so I'm lying on the couch as "The Price is Right" blares on the television in the other room.

Evelyn Graham-Frost, our heroine, has been living out her dreams as well. A professional horse trainer and rider on the fictional Global Cup horse show circuit, she lives out of a suitcase and horse trailer for months on end, traveling the world for money, recognition, and the love between her and the giant white stallion who is her partner. World Champion Grey Cliff's Snowman is the first horse "Evie" raised from birth and their bond is stronger than iron.

Every heroine needs a hero and ours is Sir David Tattinger, III - called "Trey" by his family and friends. Heir to the title and owner of Grey Cliff, he and Evie were raised together; it was inevitable they would fall in love. But the daughter of a farm manager is not the future Trey's father saw for his only son. The wedge old man Tattinger drives between the lovers is deep and for ten years neither Trey nor Evie has tried to bridge the gap.

Because not only do Evie and Trey share a past, they also share a daughter; a daughter that Trey knows nothing about. After a brutal encounter with Trey's father, Evie takes her stallion and runs. By the time she discovers her pregnancy, another man is in the picture and she allows him to allude to the world she is his child. For ten years she has kept on running in order to keep the secret strong.

When a fall from Snowman ends Evie's professional career, the offer comes in to return to Grey Cliff as trainer. A chance to heal at the only place she called home seems perfect, but also means giving Trey the chance to meet his daughter.

Can Evie put aside the anger and hurt of the past? Or will returning to Trey just bring up old memories best put aside? It's going to take all she has to work through the pain of the past in order to reach for the future.

NOW AVAILABLE ON AMAZON.COM

If you're looking for a great read for the Memorial Day weekend, be sure to check it out. And don't forget to leave a review! With Amazon's new policies, reviews are critical for writers.

May ends next week. I'm still in awe about that. But my other big news (other than the release) is my strong son is engaged to a great girl and now I get to add planning a wedding to the other million hats I wear at any given time. So if you see wedding pictures popping up on here, please know that I am only looking for places to strategize! I am not giving up being a writer to be a wedding planner. God forbid!

June will bring another attempt to make the Insecure Writer's Support Group first Wednesday blog hop. This time I've put an alarm on my clock so I can make sure I set the auto post function. But for the most part I am developing another story in a completely different realm, so wish me luck!

NOW AVAILABLE ON AMAZON.COM

Just released to from Keith Publishing. Check it out:

Excerpt from "January Frost"

CHAPTER FOUR

Home

We rolled to a stop in front of the farmhouse and the wrench deep inside took my breath away. The remodeling had not extended to the exterior, so the visible reminders of my previous life were still quite real. Davy was already bouncing on the seat, ready to find her room, ready to get out of the car after hours of riding. Cate was beaming; she supervised the remodel and was hoping I liked her choices. I felt the eggshells everyone trod around me, the expectation of an explosion from reality smacking me across the face. It wouldn’t matter but I put on a big show because I loved her. She was the closest to a sister I ever knew and whatever she chose would be right with me.

Standing in the front yard, looking out at the fields I could almost erase those long years of exile and see into the past. The fences, the rock walls, the barns and paddocks – nothing can ever remain the same, but this was close to time standing still. The wind blew in off the ocean, bringing that tang of salt water. The trailer bringing Manny pulled in behind us, and I needed to supervise his unloading or there might be problems.

“Lady Rachel, would you tell Davy the trailer with Manny is here and I want to help unload? If she wants to walk to the stud barn, show the path, please?” I was already moving as fast as the brace on my damaged leg would allow. “Thank you!” I threw over my shoulder. Davy would understand. Manny was still a stallion, and he could be very temperamental when it came to changing places. I could see her shaking her head as I hobbled down the familiar path.

Taking deep breaths, I steeled myself to see the stud barn again. The last time I was here, I took possession of Manny and left. Now I was working in reverse but at least returning the heroine I wanted to be all those years ago as a child riding the sea Cliffs of my home.

The air-conditioned van pulled to a stop in the large cobblestone courtyard in front of the stud barn. The barn itself was a large, comfortable stone stable with four stalls, two on each side of the aisle. Each stall opened to its own enclosed paddock, separating the fiery stallions from each other’s sharp teeth and short tempers. There was also a large wash stall, with hot and cold water, ceiling fans twirled in the warm late summer air. A tack room, a groom’s apartment, a feed room and storage room rounded out the building.  Mares and their offspring were kept on the other side of the farm, nearest to the manor to bring help quickly if anything were to go wrong. Everything depended on Cate, the resident vet, who lived there in the manor house with Trey and their mother.

The driver was already opening the side exit door when I approached.

“Howdy Miss Evie, here to supervise the big boy’s arrival?”

“Of course Dex. How was the trip? Was Manny a good boy?” I smiled at the driver. Dex had shuttled Manny and I around the world for many years. He was the only one I trusted to ignore the stallion’s shenanigans.

“Well he had some rough moments in the traffic coming out of Chesleton, but once we hit the open road he settled down real good. I think he knows this is home, he’s been pawing at the door since we pulled into the driveway.” Dex dragged the ramp down and opened the large door. Manny, still cross-tied inside trumpeted his arrival with all his loud, brash personality pushing against the partition that divided the van. I had to laugh at his brass.

“Dex, bring him to me, so I can work some of the kinks out.”

Dex hooked a lead rope to the big stud, unclipped the side ties and eased him down the ramp. Hesitant at first, he soon realized momma was standing on the ground waiting. Pushing Dex aside, he thrust himself over, sniffing my pockets for the treats he knew I always carried for him.  Always except for today.

“Crap old man, I forgot to stock the pockets.” I patted my jacket looking for anything I could pass off as his reward.

“Perhaps he’ll accept something from an old friend,” the familiar voice was in my ear the same time the musk hit my nostrils. I whirled so fast I thought might get whiplash. Of course with only one good leg, I lost my balance and toppled into Trey’s arms. Like touching fire, I jumped back. The flush that rose from my feet and raced to my head betrayed my emotional upset. Manny, traitor that he was took the proffered treat with a rub of his large, ungrateful head against Trey’s shoulder.

The groom, I didn’t even notice which one, took Manny’s lead rope while I stared at my new boss. He hadn’t changed much. Same crooked smile, same laughing eyes, a few more wrinkles at the eyes – at thirty-three the promise had matured into full manhood. But the bricks around my heart  are stacked high, built with pain and bonded with hours of tears spilled in remembrance and they weren’t going to be breached by a simple smile.

“Hey.” He used the old greeting so easily, our code for ‘love you’ hanging unspoken in the air.

“Hey yourself.” I tried to bring my voice into neutral. “Thanks for Manny’s treat, he would have pouted otherwise.”

“I know, I remember.” His face was neutral as well. I think he was taking his cues from me.  He motioned to the brace on my leg. “So how long do they anticipate you being grounded?”

“The leg isn’t the real problem.” I responded on automatic, haven given this interview three times in the past month to the various trade papers. “My neck has nerve damage, and the combined pressure and the whipping around during jumping will probably be too much. And of course Manny is retired now, so unless something comes along to excite me, my victories will come as a trainer and instructor, not a rider.”

“Hm. Evelyn Graham-Frost earthbound. That’s a sentence I would have never thought to hear. How does it feel to join the rest of us ungifted people?” The goofy loving smile was back, the implied laugh with me, not at me.

“Painful, very painful.” Against my better judgment, I smiled back.

“Let me drive you back up to the house. We can talk on the way.” He took my elbow and guided me toward the golf cart, helping me across the troublesome cobblestones.  Uh oh – he wanted to talk already. Concentrating on my breathing, I eased myself onto the seat, mentally preparing my gut for whatever he had to say. After all, as Karl would remind me, it wasn’t him I was truly angry with. And you can’t hold grudges against a dead man.

“So, how have you been?” I opened the conversation in neutral territory.

“Good, mostly good. And very busy, especially since Mum announced your arrival.  The boarding barns are getting full and you have enough advanced riders to keep you busy three hours a day, seven days a week. I didn’t want to burden you with more students than that, especially until you healed.”

“Thanks Trey, I appreciate that. I’m not sure how long I’m going to be dragging this brace around; it’s only been a few weeks.”

“I know.” His answer spoke volumes. He kept track of me, behind the scenes. Without hesitation he dove into the gist of his train of thought. “Evie, I know this is strange. It’s strange for me, too. But put yourself in my shoes for a moment. I just found out a month ago I have a daughter. Her mother never told me about her, never gave me the chance to be a part of her life until now. If I said I’m a little irate about that, I’d be making an understatement.

“On the other hand, this is an opportunity for me to excel at something my father failed miserably to do and that’s have a loving relationship with my child. I want that chance Evie. I want to show you I’m a different man than the one you ran away from all those years ago.”

I interrupted him. “I didn’t run from you Trey.”

“I stand corrected. But I know it hurt when I didn’t come after you.”

“I knew you had your reasons.” Tears threatened to fill my eyes but I blinked them away. Too personal too fast. I had been afraid this would happen.

“I did, but in retrospect, they were wrong. I should have come after you. I made a mistake. I thought Dad would realize, would change his mind. But when he died with things between us unresolved, I caved and left you alone. I was too ashamed to come find you, bring you back. I’m sorry. I can’t change our past, but I want us to get along, for Davy.”

“She has no expectations from either of us. She knows we didn’t work out. Book closed.”

For a long moment Trey was quiet. There was a hint of pain underlying his voice when he spoke again. “Are you ever going to forgive me?”

“I was eighteen Trey, alone with no one in the world except you. Do you know what he did to me? Did you hear the things he said? How can I forgive that?”

“Because that was him, not me.”

“Right now, I can’t distinguish the two.”

“That, my Evelyn, is your problem.”

“I know.” He hit the nail on the head. I was holding resentment toward all the Tattinger men. “I know it’s my problem and I’m working on it. But don’t expect miracles right away. There’s ten years of baggage to work through. I’ve been wounded a long time. I’m not the girl you knew. She died long ago.”

“I understand. I’ll give you space.”

By then we were at the farmhouse. Trey helped me out of the cart and up the front steps. Davy came flying down the hall, through the door and in Trey’s arms before I could warn him. I didn't need to. Father and daughter took to each other immediately. The tears that had been held at bay all afternoon finally had their way and spilled down my face. Davy, always attuned to my emotional state, added me into their circle.

“You okay Mom?” The concern on her face matched the look on Trey’s. Great, now there were two of them assaulting my emotions.

Smiling, “I’m fine baby. Just overly tired and I think it’s time for my afternoon nap. You stay out here with your father,” I choked a little saying the word for the first time, “and I’ll be in my room.”

Trey’s gaze followed me as I walked into the farmhouse for the first time since that horrid night. Too much excitement and too many memories all crowded around me, caving in the air, making the world smaller, causing me to hit my braced right leg against the corner of the steps. The pain brought stars before my eyes and my breath pounded inside my ears; then I did something I hadn't done since the accident.  I fainted.

Well, I Missed it Again

Today is the first Wednesday of the month, which means Insecure Writer's Support Group blog hop and once again I was too busy with my day to day job to get anything done. But that's okay. Somehow the pressure to post something is gone and I can write on almost any topic. The one I choose today is being grateful.

If I were to believe in my horoscope, I should be taking chances and leaping full tilt to assault the gates of my personal life and professional ones as well. However my better sense tells me just because someone got a few things right when they did a free reading based on my birthday and place doesn't mean I should base my actions around a piece of paper. While it is all well and good to read about the life you should be living, nowhere is there a forecast of what might really help me, which is to be accepting of my life and who I am.

All my life I have looked at others who griped and moaned about their supposed difficulties and wondered what their problem really was. Those whose lives look best from the outside are more times than not experiencing more catastrophes than we can imagine. Too many times society and the media tell us to strive for more, to want what our neighbors' have and find ways to obtain it at all costs. It only brings more unhappiness and more debt and more worry and why do we get on that hamster wheel when we know what the outcome will be?

I choose to pray every night. It's how I was raised and it's what I believe. Each night I thank God for all that He has blessed me with and I ask for a heart content with my place. Sure, I would love to be a hugely successful writer with a zillion followers, cranking out book after book with apparent ease and talent but that's not who I am. It takes me a while to craft each story, to live with my characters as a part of my being day in and day out until it feels...done.

Someday, if it is my destiny, I may still have the zillion followers (maybe two!). But no matter what happens I am grateful for the gifts I have, and blessed more than I probably deserved. I am not content, but I'm working on it.

After a delay due to the illness of my publisher my new novel, January Frost, will be on Amazon.com soon. Thank goodness she is recovering but a double pulmonary embolism isn't something you just bound right back from. I will do a separate post with a new announcement when I have more details, so keep a weather eye out.

April Showers Bring a Lot of Mud

Helpful Hubby and I own property north of Atlanta. Over the winter, we removed about 6 acres of dead growth, overgrown privet, and vines too entangled to identify. The extra cold weather made the newly exposed ground hard as the ice in the creek, so mud wasn't an issue. But now the spring rains have come and all bets are off.

The mud is coming.

Now, don't get me wrong - I love rain. I love the smell of a spring rain, when the pollen vacates the air and the world has a sparkling new green blanket covering the dirt. But when you clear land of years of neglect and overgrowth, one is left with a shoe sucking viscous material with the strength of quicksand colored the same color as Effie's hair in  "The Hunger Games: Catching Fire"!

It grabs, it spreads, it stains; Red Georgia clay is the stuff of nightmares. In our long ago youth, Hubby and I used to enjoy spelunking. There are hundreds of small (and large) caves in the North Georgia area. Most are wet, which means you are on your belly crawling through the cold mud. We kept our clothes in a garbage bag. No sense dirtying up the washing machine, it will just stain your tub.

Gradually the grass will come in, and the mud will be a fading memory. But as long as we are Terra-forming it will return in abundance. So if a spring arrived and you don't hear from me, send the rescue squad. Chances are I am stuck up to my hips in red!

Have You Ever...?

Today is the first Wednesday in April, which means it's time for Insecure Writer's Support Group. My topic for today is...have you ever?

Have you ever sat down and studied why you write and where you write the best? Do you like music playing or silence? Do you write long hand or type? Do you write sequentially or piece stories together from random chapters?

No matter which way I turn, I hear the small insistent voice of my high school English grammar teacher raising sand because I'm using commas wrong, or writing in sentence fragments. How do you explain to a memory that writers today have more freedom to ignore the rules than they did 30 years ago?

I confess, I do follow the rules more than many. I like the semi-comma. I like using it; it has merit. But I recently  had a critique who told me the semi-comma died years ago from lack of understanding. Just use a comma, or a separate sentence. I don't like that. So do I buckle to peer pressure or keep using an archaic punctuation symbol because I know its power?

If someone won't publish a story because of a semi-colon, maybe I am in the wrong profession. That seems trivial; which means it's probably true.

Happy April everyone. I am not participating in the April A to Z Blog Challenge this year - too many personal things going on, but I should have a book coming out this month. Stay tuned for more details!

March Madness

Today is the first Wednesday in March, which means Insecure Writer's Support Group blog hop. (Gee, I hope I am still on the list!)

I'm having a hard time getting focused. Currently on my computer there are four WIPs that at any time I could finish up and start editing, but lately all I feel capable of is existing. My energy is at an all time low and creatively my mind is all over the place.

Every story line is different, so you think I would be able to focus on either saving my action hero and his wife from the mad bomber who is chasing them, or help the poor soul I've left floundering in a morass of negative emotions due to personal angst. Perhaps I could work on my werewolves who are being encroached by humans and are looking to move to the wilds of Canada to live free, or send my alter-ego into the fray to fight against darkness and tyranny.

Or perhaps, I'll grab a bowl of cereal and sit in the recliner watching back to back episodes of "Cheaters" and wondering if my helpful hubby needs stalking, I mean watching.

Wow, I need a break.

I need to sit on the beach with my toes in the sand contemplating the tan of Joey the Cabana Boy as he brings me another virgin Strawberry Daiquiri. I need to stare into the horizon and wonder at the magnitude of our world and our place in it. But perhaps, most of all, I need peace in my life.

I have a teenage daughter going through the pains of first love, a grown son with a touch of hypochondria, and a husband so ready to retire he spends as little time in the office as he can get away with. I need something. I'm not sure what it is, but the feeling of being put upon is growing by the day. If things don't reach equilibrium soon, there might be an incident which may or may not land me on the 6:00 news.

Don't get me wrong, I love my family. Maybe this is just a mid-life crisis rearing its ugly head, but my writing is suffering and I'm looking for answers not more questions. Some days my heart feels it will explode from the effort of remaining smiling and pleasant.

But don't forget to keep an eye on the headlines - after all, I am a writer. I kill people in my head everyday. The real trick is to not do it in real life.

Spring is Teasing Me and I Don't Like It!

Yesterday it was hard to believe it was the second day of March. The sun was shining, birds were singing, gnats were swarming, and everywhere you felt the anticipation Spring always brings to our little corner of the South. The high was nearing 70, and all seemed right in the universe.

Yeah, right.

Today, again, it is cold, rainy, windy, and we are under a freeze warning for tonight. So much for Spring, Winter is not going gently into that good night. Instead, it seems bound and determined to hold on until the last possible moment, guaranteeing no early planting or easy weather.

That's right, folks, it's tornado season down here in the land of the Boiled Peanut.

I've lived through hurricanes, him-a-canes, snow-canes, and more but the thought of tornado season always fills me with dread. They strike anywhere and at anytime. It's like waiting for your mother-in-law to show up with her crazy sister to set up residence in your basement. I would rather face two Katrina's than one tornado. But that's just me.

I will sleep with one ear tuned to the weather radio, waiting for that annoying blast of the tornado siren to send us all downstairs to the laundry room (our only windowless room). Until the winds blow constantly from the south and the cold weather and snow are only distant memories, I will keep a weather eye on the horizon and stay close to shore in case of emergencies.

After all, it's only 110 more days until summer!

Chasing Away the Winter Blues

I suffer from the Winter Blues. You know, that feeling that everything will remain grey and damp forever and you stop shaving your legs because they are constantly hidden underneath wool and it's too cold to spend that much time in the shower anyway? When the Christmas decoration stay up until February just because they are colorful and give you hope that spring is a-comin'?

Or is that just me?

Once the holidays are over I often find myself staring at the sleeping Bermuda grass in my front yard while sipping my chai latte and wondering what the neighbors would do it I were to spray the whole darn thing with green paint. Then the sun sets again and I wonder how long it would take to send me over the edge if I lived in Alaska, which sends me to the Internet looking for warm vacation sites.

Don't get me wrong, I love snow as much as the next person. I love the way it snows down here. In one week you can go from ice storm and snow blizzard to shorts and flip flops. This time of year we get all four seasons in a standard ten to fifteen day rotation, and deciding on the day's attire usually requires the use of the Weather Channel and the National Weather Service website.

As we head into March, we still have at least one more snow event to come. How do I know this? Because the first lay on the ground for two days. The old wives' tale I was always told is you will receive as many snowfalls as the number of days the first lay on the ground. I know there are other tales and methods for determining this, some of which include actual science-y stuff but as for me, I'll stick with what I know.

So, with one channel on the remote tuned to the Olympics and the other the 24-hour radar site with up to the minute Doppler radar, I am off to attempt some writing. That is, unless I need to make an emergency trip to the grocery store for batteries, bread and milk.

Gotta be prepared for the next go round.

I Live Down South, and I Know How to Drive

This is a scene that was replayed all over Atlanta and the Metro area. Once again out state was unprepared for another extreme weather situation. People slept in their cars, in stores and as stations, in strangers' houses and warming centers.

The problem was, the forecast kept changing and by the time people realized the storm was coming farther north than expected, it was too late. People were already streaming out of their offices and 6 million people hit the now covered streets heading for their homes. Or at least that's what they attempted.

We don't have enough snow day to warrant the purchase of snow removal equipment. So the DOT, and the state, and the mayor of Atlanta all blame each other and remind everyone how muck better this response was compared to 2011.

I think what we should take away is this: is the weather says snow, be sure you have water, blankets, food, and a phone charger in your car. Also, don't be afraid to leave your vehicle and walk to warmth. Many people created social media sites to link up those who were stranded to those who were will to help out. Pure Southern hospitality in action, how I love my adopted home.

So I will stay inside for tonight and probably tomorrow as well. But at lease we can say we saw snow this year. It will be very interesting to see what happens on Groundhog day.

COVER REVEAL - January Frost

COMING SOON FROM KEITH PUBLISHING

JANUARY FROST

Evelyn Graham-Frost had it all, an award winning career showing her champion stallion, Snowman all over the world; wealth business partners who adore her and her daughter, and freedom from the painful memories of her past. For ten years everything has been a storybook existence. But every high has its opposite.

Looking Forward in 2014

I'm feeling cautiously optimistic for this new year. Everything seems to foretell the promise of an excellent year. Not like 2013. Never have a had a year I was so happy to see leave. The past few years haven't been all the best. I've lost family, dear friends, my sanity - all within the past four years and frankly, I'm ready for a different outcome.

To that end, I have made a promise to myself to write more, especially in my blogs. That's always the first sign my life is turning somersaults, I stop writing. Over time, I forget how much I enjoy writing, and how much I want to succeed at this venture. By the time I'm ready to stop the home grown pity party, I'll be one set of ragged flannel sweatpants away from full blown catatonia.

But not this year. This year I shall rise above the excesses of my mental health and focus on the stories. There are several rolling around upstairs. My favorite is an action romance. It's beginning to take shape and if I'm happy with this pass perhaps I will share a snippet with everyone for inspection.

I do have a new novel coming out soon. January Frost, from Keith Publishing's Hearts & Arrows line is in the home stretch. As soon as the artwork is approved and the final edits done, it will be ready. I'm very excited for this one, my first romance novel.

So, as I leave to settle in for a long winter evening of writing, I leave you with the blurb for January Frost. Stay warm everyone, and I see you again soon - I Promise!

Blurb: Evelyn Graham-Frost has everything: a fabulous boss, an award winning stallion to ride, and a daughter to bring sunshine into her days. But when a career ending fall throws everything in flux, Evelyn finds herself retreating to the one place she tried so hard to escape – her childhood home at Grey Cliffs Stables.

Going home means confronting her past with the only man she ever loved, Trey Tattinger. Ten years ago she ran away from the violence and hatred of Trey’s alcoholic father David. She gave birth to Trey’s child in secret. Now all the secrets and shame must be exposed, and Evelyn will learn that in order to go forward, sometimes you have to go back to the beginning.