Wednesday, November 30, 2016


Many times in my life I have found circumstances taking drastic, sometimes emotionally devastating turns. The first time I remember this happening in detail was December 1981 - January 1982. Within the space of these two months, my college roommate committed suicide, I was in a horrific crash involving a tractor trailer, and the man I had been dating since high school broke up with me by sending an invitation to his wedding.

For two weeks after I lay on the bed wondering what had I been doing so wrong that God felt the need to crash my world down around my ears. In haste and fear I threw myself into a relationship with more downs than ups. Then I spent two years rectifying the mistakes made in my overwrought mental condition.

Since then these upheaval collisions have only happened twice more: when I left my job in technology to go work for my husband's family business back in 1995, and in early 2015. Unfortunately that particular episode is still ongoing, and while I think I see the exit tunnel, things are still whirling around me like a sand storm.

When I am unsure where to go, or what decision to make, there is only one direction I turn: my faith. It has sustained me when everything and everyone else deserted me, and I give my Higher Power, who is God, all the credit for keeping me sane and focused when much of my life is burning down around me.

We are heading into the holiday season. Regardless of which faith you adhere to, this is the time to focus on others instead of our own selfish desires. If, for 31 days, we can all put our political, religious, or monetary problems on the shelf and bring out the damn Elf. Remember those who need us most: animals still suffering in animal shelters around the country. Take time and adopt, don't spend thousands on a pedigree animal. There are special pedigree animals waiting at your local shelter, I guarantee.

So what is my point? I guess the point is, we have to be flexible when it comes to life, learn to roll with the winds and to replant when the storm is gone. That's where I am right now, replanting. Taking the good and discarding the bad; consider it early Spring Cleaning. Is this where I wanted to be so late in life? Hell no! But it is the life I have, and I want to enjoy every minute remaining to the fullest extent every day.

This December, do a little cleaning of your own. Take all those negative posting people off your Facebook. Life is too short to always be miserable. Learn to tweet, and give inspiration to yourself and others each day. Lord knows we all need inspiration. Volunteer at the local animal shelter, or nearby hospital to hold premature babies as they grow and adapt to this big, scary world.

I guess the point of all this is to say, don't stay in your season of defeat. Stand up, dust off your pants and keep walking. Who knows what is waiting just up ahead?

Don't forget to check out my newest release: "Welcome to the Family", available on,, and The Wild Rose Press website.

Friday, November 25, 2016

"Welcome to the Family"

Now Available from The Wild Rose Press - Meet the Devlyns. Not your everyday relations.


Silence then reigned in the limo as Sean stared at the scenery flying past, remembering the first time he’d made this particular drive. When Cassie at last relented and took him to meet her father and brothers, they’d been together almost a year. The trip ended up being a nightmare. The only plus side was the stronger bond he and Cassie built when everything was said and done. It was the trip which created the foundation point of their agreements.

The Devlyn men were whacked, especially when it came to Cassie.

Kevin was eldest, the only brother with whom Cassie maintained a cordial relationship. He was also the most straight laced of the three brothers. After leaving the service, Kevin got his law degree and worked for the family business as chief counsel. Just like Cassie, his relationship with their father was complicated; typical oldest son. Kevin had cleaned up more than one mess left behind by Martin or Greg and was badly scarred himself from the process.

Middle son Matthew was a high functioning Autistic and frequently became a pawn, easily swayed by youngest brother Greg. It was Greg whose neck Sean wanted to wring, along with Martin himself. It was they who ruined relationships between the siblings.

Greg was an evil, vile, sorry excuse for a human, and those were Martin’s words not Sean’s. Ever since childhood, Greg’s vendetta against his only sister brought havoc into their lives more than once. Doctors said he was a borderline psychotic, but Sean knew he’d crossed the border long ago. Martin eventually dismissed him to West Coast operations to keep distance between Cassie and her chief tormentor, but family and business still brought him to Atlanta more than Sean would like.

One part of that first meeting fiasco kept replaying in his ears, the speech her father gave about why Ferguson wasn’t good enough for his only daughter. He still could hear the derision in the man’s voice as he’d sneered, “The only son of a mid-level bureaucrat thinks because he talks a privileged, na├»ve, innocent girl into falling onto her back for him, we intend to accept this nobody into our family? I would sooner wallow in the mud with animals than know my grandchildren will be fathered by a damn Irishman!”

That was the only meeting he’d had with all the male members of Cassie’s family at one time. They left shortly thereafter and hadn’t returned since, or at least Sean hadn’t. Cassie occasionally stopped by to see her father, but at their Atlantic Station headquarters never the house. Though eventually Kevin did make amends, the other two brothers, Greg and Matthew, still didn’t speak to them. It bothered him that they were taking out their disapproval of him on Cassie. She didn’t deserve it. But what aggravated him the most was the damn hold they had on her that kept one finger always in her business; she didn’t know how to say no to the group of them.

The limo slowed as they took the Vinings exit off the freeway. Winding past the quaint Village center, they turned right, over the Chattahoochee River and into the exclusive, hidden neighborhoods on the northwest outskirts of Atlanta. At last they pulled up to a large stone entrance with an exquisite wrought iron gate overlooking the Chattahoochee River. The driver keyed a number into the key pad and the gates swung open.

“Welcome home,” Joe quipped.

“Shut the hell up,” Sean muttered. Joe smiled in return.