Just Wondering....

http://www.amazon.com/Price-Redemption-Guardian-Saga-Book-ebook/dp/B01A2KLDF8/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1452447809&sr=8-2&keywords=the+price+for+redemption

So, I've been playing around with Canva.com making Facebook posts and Tweet art. It's nice to find clip art that matches the way I see my characters. Vivienne is young but she's a ballsy woman and thinks nothing of fighting for her kingdom and her family.

What do you think? Are these effective? Do they make you more or less likely to click through to Amazon.com or other buy sites? Are they just annoying?

Thought I'd try some new things this year, personally as well as professionally.

A New Year's Present...

Happy Birthday Queen Vivienne - A Special Post for A Special Birthday!

It's the Winter Solstice, which means it's also Vivienne's birth night. Tonight, Minnlin will travel through a snow storm to make sure the Guardian's birth happens exactly as prophesied.


For a special treat, here is the story of Vivienne's birth straight from the horse's mouth:

"CHAPTER ONE

Born from Death

In my nightmare, Devon gathers his cloak and sword, smiles at Hana warmly and says, ―Be patient. I should be able to find them at the field tent.‖ He smiles at the queen, and leaves to search for the king. 

Hana stares at the door, now closed behind his departing figure. Her brow furrows just for a moment as she debates whether or not to fasten the bolt. Deciding the men downstairs are protection enough, she turns back to my mother. Worried, she tries not to let the queen know how serious the situation has become. My mother writhes in the transitional pains of labor on the bed, drenched in sweat, her hair soaked. Her breathing has become ragged and uneven. Every contraction brings waves of agony crashing down upon her slight frame. She screams as unexpected and powerful contractions threaten to rip her into pieces.

Katarina is panting as Hana washes her face with cool water—cool water that, by some strange illusion, I feel on my own face. ―I don‘t think I am going to be able to do this, she moans to Hana. ―I am too tired. I don‘t have the energy to do this.

Hana croons to her as one would a small, frightened child: ―Of course you will have the strength, my lady. All mothers are afraid when they give birth to their first child. It is an experience not comprehended except by those who have already been blessed. Everything will be fine.

My mother smiles faintly at Hana. Even though they have only been together a short time, my mother understands she and Hana are very much alike in temperament and spirit. Both are empathetic Healers, although Katarina is struggling right now to bring her own training into focus. My mother‘s senses tell her she is bleeding too much. Tired, she cannot find the correct pressure point as she searches within her memories to recall how to constrict the blood vessels with elemental energy. The pain of each contraction is evident in every fiber of her body. Her gaze keeps darting to the door, waiting for my father to walk in.

The sound of men and horses clattering to a stop drifts up from the front courtyard even through the closed windows. The wind suddenly switches direction, coming no longer from the West, but instead from the North, and the cold deepens. The clouds close in, heavy with thick, wet mountain snow. The full winter moon hanging bright in the night sky becomes overshadowed as the heavy snow begins to fall and stick. Hana tosses more logs on the fireplace to keep the chill from the room. Hearing voices and thinking Devon has found the king, Hana throws open the door of the bedroom. And that‘s when my nightmare really starts.

Three darkly cloaked soldiers race up the stairs and through the open door, throwing Hana against the far wall near Katarina‘s laboring body. She slides down to the floor and stares up in horror at the nightmare walking through the door. Into the room behind these soldiers strides a tall man, dressed in the robes of a Druid Master, with three more soldiers bringing up the rear.

Hana recognizes the druid immediately, but Katarina is too weak at first to notice who the intruder is—but it doesn‘t take her long to finally see him. Both women are deeply frightened; fear the only thing keeping them from crying for help. Though they do not say his name out loud, I know only one person would be brave enough to risk the wrath of Philippe or Der and his brothers to appear at this house at this time. It is Minnlin, the renegade druid, with his personal cadre of guards. Somehow they have slipped past all the sentries and guard posts to come here. This means they are here for only one thing—the baby … me. 

But why?

The guards signal for Hana to drop her weapons, if she is holding any, and to step back from the bed where my mother lies.

―No. Hana lifts her chin stubbornly. ―The queen is in dire need. She has lost too much blood. I am a Healer. I must help her deliver the child now or both may well perish.

The guard looks at Minnlin for direction. He nods his head. They search Hana for weapons. Once she is pronounced unarmed, Hana breaks through his grasp and races to the side of the bed. Checking my mother‘s pulse, she turns her head to address the men.

―She is failing. The baby must come. Now! Do you have any Healers with you?‖ She makes her appeal to the dark man standing over her.

Minnlin judges Hana with his eyes. No feeling of malice hangs around the man, no raw lust and hunger for power is displayed across his face. Only the certainty of a man who knows what he is doing and working hard to achieve his ends. No matter how much those ends will cost. Finally, in a quiet voice, he replies, ―I will deliver the child.‖

Hana stares at Katarina and then at Minnlin and then back to Katarina. Before she can protest, a soul-rending scream comes from my mother. There is no more time for discussion. 

Minnlin crosses the room, discarding his robe to one of his guards. Kneeling beside the bed, he places his hands first on her heart then on the bulge of her belly that is me. Concentrating while humming spells to himself, he seems to be listening to the energies of the queen‘s body. Hana stands beside the bed, anxious to know what is happening, even more anxious that Devon and the king will not arrive in time to save everyone.

In one fluid motion Minnlin stands up and turns to face Hana. ―I need lots of warm blankets, hot water, gauze, scissors, and some auguere.

―Auguere?‖ Hana raises one finely pointed eyebrow. ―That herb does not ease childbirth pains. It is for headaches.

―Auguere also constricts blood vessels, and once the child is delivered, I must attempt to stop the bleeding as quickly as possible.‖ He states this calmly, as some people might discuss the weather. ―If we cannot stop the blood flow in time, Katarina will bleed out and nothing either of us can do will save her.

―Save my daughter … at any cost, Katarina whispers. ―She is the one who must live. My life means nothing; only hers is important. Her eyes bore into Minnlin, as though reminding the druid of a secret promise known to only them.

―Peace, my lady. Everything will be all right, Hana croons into my mother‘s ear. ―I will keep watch for new arrivals, she says pointedly, sure Katarina understands what she means. Then she turns to the guards in the room. ―I don‘t think anyone‘s mother would be proud to know they raised their son to spy on a woman giving birth, especially when that woman is the queen. Get out of here unless you are specifically trained as a Healer.

The six men look at Minnlin for direction. He waves five of them from the room. The last goes to the fireplace and brings over the warmed towels. His dark gray eyes glance at Hana, mocking her.

―I was trained as a Healer before leaving the Fortress to follow Lord Minnlin, he informs Hana. She glares but moves over enough to allow a small space for him beside the bed.

Now is the point at which my nightmare becomes blended with the horrible reality that is the night of my birth. For many years of my childhood, the nightmares never progressed past this point, the memories blocked by some wall erected within my mind in self-defense. As I grew older, I began to wonder why I couldn‘t move past this blockage. Eventually, when I did figure out how to remove the wall, I would come to wish things had stayed as they were. I was blissful in my ignorance. 

Minnlin looks into my mother‘s eyes, his dark purple eyes fixated on her gray eyes, as another version of that same secret look I had noticed previously again passes between them. (All true Mystics have some shade of purple eyes. The color is related to the elemental energies that run in our veins, allowing us to tap into the powers and mysteries contained in the world. The darker the shading of the purple, the stronger the Mysticism gift in that person. Similarly, all Healers have gray shaded eyes, while those who are born to War Craft have the ability to make the whites of their eyes darken to prevent reflected light betraying them to any enemy that might be around.) Minnlin bends over the bed, murmuring spells over my mother while running his hands over her belly. At last he straightens up and speaks to the guard and Hana.

―The child is backwards. We must turn her or they will both perish.

Hana blanches at the words. Being trained originally as a Warrior, she has only mastered the most basic of Healing knowledge. However, being raised in the countryside, she has seen horses and cows with breech babies. Most times the mother died. She thanks the heavens my mother is delirious, thus unable to process the danger she and I are in. Nodding more to herself than to the druid, she takes the few short steps to the bed, holding down Katarina‘s shoulders. Minnlin has removed his sword, and washed his hands and forearms. He sits next to my mother‘s right leg. He motions for his man to grab her left knee.

―No matter what, do not let go, he cautions both Hana and the guard. 

Both nod their understanding. They know what he is attempting will cause immense pain to the frail woman lying, already past her endurance, on what can be described as her deathbed.

Taking a deep breath, Minnlin pulls back the covers. Carefully, he seeks to turn me into the correct birth position. With his left hand he presses on the top of her womb while pulling me gently by my arm. Katarina begins shrieking in pain, worse than any sound previous. Even the guard averts his gaze. Tears well in Hana‘s eyes, blinding for a moment the vision of what she was already afraid to see. Blood begins to gush forth, more than it seems one small body can bear to lose. The screaming echoes off the walls, reverberating until there is no other sound. Finally, after what was a very short time but which seemed to have lasted forever, Minnlin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

―I am ready to begin guiding the baby down the birth canal. Hana, let go of her shoulders and be ready to wrap the child. My hands will be busy trying to save the queen‘s life.

Hana rushes to the fireplace, grabs several towels and returns to the bedside. Shuddering from her distaste at being so close to the one who has caused so much death and pain in the Five Kingdoms, she kneels beside him. She looks up at the druid, nodding in response to his raised eyebrow.

Minnlin looks into my mother‘s eyes. The look she gives him probably constitutes why I have nightmares about this night. It is the look of someone who knows she is nearing death, one who has lost all hope of saving herself. She is allowing her husband‘s mortal enemy to deliver her only child. She has given all her hope to me. All that remains is to hold on long enough to see the birth through. With a curt nod in Katarina‘s direction, Minnlin begins guiding my head down the birth canal. Slowly at first, then with more confidence, I begin to appear. Head first, then shoulders. After the shoulders the rest of my body slides out easily. 

Minnlin cuts the umbilical cord, ties it off, and hands me to Hana. She wraps me tightly in the clean, warm towels, and brings me around to the top of the table, where my mother can see me. One look and one smile is the sum total of my interaction with my mother prior to death. When she tries to raise her hand to stroke my head, she is simply too far gone. As Hana grips me closer I can see the light extinguish in my mother‘s eyes. After struggling with every portion of her earthly body to bring me into this world, there was nothing left for her. My mother is dead. And I appear to be alone in a room with my father‘s mortal enemy. 

Minnlin reaches over and closes my mother‘s eyes. Head bowed, he doesn‘t look like the most dangerous enemy of the Kingdoms; he looks like a broken, grieving man. But how did he know my mother? How did he know I would come this day? How did he get this far behind the front lines? But the most important question to me was never asked out loud: why did he come to deliver me? What is so special about me? "

Excerpted from "CATALYST - Guardian Rising", published by Keith Publishing, all rights reserved.

Hello and Thanks for Holding On...

Well, after being offline for most of the past four months, I have returned. I know all of you were so miserable without my witty observations on life, the universe and everything else, but rest assured I am back and ready to resume my duties as a voice. What have I been doing? Working, writing, and trying to stay dry! This has become the year of living wet in the South. It has rained more days this summer than in recorded history!

Here is a list of the highlights of my sabbatical:
1 - Finished and submitted the first of a five book series in YA. Not usually a field I write in, but my darling daughter is a teenager and I wanted something for her and her friends.
2 - Went back to work on a full time basis at our special events family business. That alone seriously curtailed my blogging, and I apologize deeply for deserting my friends and followers.
3 - Began Book Three of the Guardian Stories - working title: "The Purity of Fire"

When I look at this in print, it doesn't look like much, but trust me - it's been a three ring circus around my life. It seems the more I long for a vacation the more things come up. But in the long run I know it is a good thing. I tend to write better when I feel stressed. For example - I started "Fire" five days ago and I already have over 35K words. As my target for Book Three is 100K, I'm really moving along.

One thing I have implemented is taking at least one full weekend day and going off the grid. I don't go on Facebook, I don't Tweet, I don't even check email. Instead I spend the day interacting with the family, playing with the horses, detoxing from the week. It is amazing how much that one day relieves my stress level. As a side benefit, things with the helpful hubby are getting better since I'm not spending every free moment I have with my nose in the laptop.

Another accomplishment of this recent mental clarity is we have completed the final edits for my next release - "January Frost".


"January Frost" - Evelyn Graham-Frost had it all: a career she loved, a beautiful daughter, amazing business partners, and no personal entanglement. After running away from love at eighteen, she put that portion of her life on hold, preferring to bottle up her pain at the tragic parting from her first love, Sir David Tattinger III, Lord of Grey Cliffs. But a career ending injury has suddenly brought the past into collision with the future.

Returning to Grey Cliffs means returning to the home of her childhood, the place where her parents were tragically killed in a traffic accident. It also means coming to terms with Trey and the dark secret that drove her away. Ten years is a long time to repress emotions, and now in order for her body to heal, Evelyn needs to face what happened that night. The night Trey couldn't protect her.

In the rush to escape her past, Evelyn ran headfirst into the future. But to live in the present, she will have to return to the one place all paths seems to head - back to Grey Cliffs. But whether that includes Trey's arms is an entirely different matter!

I don't have the cover art as of yet, but I will share as soon as I get it back. Anyone out there who does book reviews who would like a review copy, please let me know so I can get the ARCs out there.

Well, that's enough for tonight. Stay tuned for my next rant - Windows 8, Office 2013 and incompatible systems and how they can slow your progress to a crawl.  Thanks for hanging in - I promise I won't flake out again!

'C' is for Confidence - Insecure Writer's Support Group

Today is Wednesday, April 3rd and the first Wednesday of every month is Insecure Writer's Support Group Blog day. Hoping to kill two birds with one blog, here is the letter 'C'. In a strange twist, I have chosen Confidence as my topic for IWSG and A to Z Blog Challenge.

Am I a confident writer? Not by any stretch of the imagination. When I put words on paper for the public to examine, it is putting a piece of my inner most soul on display for others to abuse or adore as they see fit. There is no power within me at all to determine which emotion will triumph. The words are an extension of me; if they are rejected how can I not take it as a personal rejection? The words and the woman are intricately woven as one.

I don't think I am alone in this feeling. Any performer who puts a part of themselves out there for the world, be it an actor, musician, or writer. Of course, that doesn't make it any easier. But with each rejection letter another piece of the armor is forged. I will be stronger for the journey than I would be if immediate success came without work.

That is what makes me open the computer night after night, writing the scenes that fill my head night and day. Therein comes the topic of the day - Confidence.

I am confident that no matter how long it takes, how many hills I must struggle to climb, I will keep writing. It is a part of me just as much as breathing. And that is enough for me.

'B' is for Bloom's Taxonomy of Learning

I was searching for "Blooms", thinking I would talk about flowers and Spring. Instead I was ambushed by diagrams for something called the Bloom's Taxonomy of Learning. Having studied Psychology in college before deciding I didn't want to listen to other people's problems for the rest of my life; I was interested at once. Part of my previous incarnation was administering standardized tests.

Basically, this triangle illustrates how our brains process information. Just as with the famous 'Food Group' pyramid, you start from the bottom and move upward. 

Now, why did this interest me as a blog topic for "A to Z Blogging"? This is similar to the process I use when creating new characters for my different series. I remember what the character has already revealed to me. Then I understand how they fit into the overall story. I apply the character to the story and analyze what his/her impact will be to the story arc. I then evaluate the positive and negative of the character in the long range forecast, and create the final version. 

It isn't perfect, but I find it works will with my particular form of attention deficit disorder. Maybe some of my readers can relate. Otherwise, happy "B" day, please return on Wednesday for "C". This will be a dual posting, as the first Wednesday of every month is Insecure Writer's Support Group Blog Hop Day. No telling what I will find that starts with a 'C' to mesh into both groups, but that's what makes it all fun. I love a good challenge. 

Lucky in Love? That Depends

Lucky in Love? Well, are you? It's a time of luck and wealth...or not. With each romance we find ourselves in a new world of love and memories. Are these just by chance? Is it luck? Welcome to your second annual Lucky in Love Blog Hop where we want to hear about your love, your romance, and how much you love St. Patrick's Day!!! Are you wearing green? Ready to get pinched...or wait...do you like that?

Almost 300 bloggers have giveaways and posts about those men we love!

But that's not all....

We have TWO 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 $100 Amazon or B&N Gift Card

2nd Grand Prize: A Swag Pack that contains paperbacks, ebooks, 50+ bookmarks, cover flats, magnets, pens, coffee cozies, and more!

 

 

 

Have you ever met a couple who were lucky enough to have found their one true love? Sometimes they are insufferable to be around, always completing each other's sentences and sharing the same clothes (which is weird on a different level all together). But my question has always been: was it luck that brought them together or something else?

 

For example: Let me introduce Will and Frankie. Raised in two different geographic regions of the country, they met at the theatre in a small college town. Will was tall and handsome, outgoing and talented in music as well as academic subjects. Frankie was quiet and beautiful, smart as a whip and working her way through graduate school.

 

Two different people there never were. He liked to go out dancing, visiting with friends, being seen. She was more interested in reading at the library or taking long walks through the woods near the campus. But their relationship worked because of their differences.

 

They complimented each other in the areas they needed it most. She would follow him out into public, letting him take the lead and talk for her. He would go with her to the library and work on his own projects while she indulged in her favorite authors.

 

After only six months together, they married. Then came children and careers, moves and relocation that covered most of their years until at last all the kids had flown from the nest and it was just the two of them, remembering how it had been all those years ago, dancing to the music only they could remember.

 

However, happy endings are hard to find, even if you are lucky. First Will fell ill, and they couldn't discover what was wrong. Then he had a stoke, which eventually led to his death, many years too early. That left Frankie alone, with no Prince Charming to share the newspaper with or to go for a walk. But it was OK, because she knew they would be together again soon.

 

But the years ran away, 5 years then 15 years. Soon it had been 20 years alone, and the loneliness is overwhelming. The saving grace? The failing memory which gifts her with visits from her Will when none of the rest of us can see him.

 

Are they lucky to have found each other? Absolutely. Was it fair for Will to die young and leave Frankie alone? Well, who ever said life was fair?

 

So go be lucky, who know what you might find? My parents (whose names have been changed because otherwise I'd be in trouble!) found each other in the middle of nowhere during a war. If it is meant to be... who needs luck?

 

 

The Nature of Insecurity

Book Two of the Guardian Stories is submitted, oh happy day! This story has been up and down on my ladder of attention for most of last year. Now all I need is to work my way through my fabulous editor's suggestions and Vivienne will be ready to continue her adventure across the Kingdoms in search of Devon and her enemies.

Becoming a writer has been a dream come true in many ways. Perhaps the most drastic change has been in my relationships with other people. I have never been the most gregarious one in the group. Now as I find myself writing and promoting, I've made friends with other writers around the country. I admire each of them, not just because they are living their dreams and writing, but they all seem so confident about their abilities.

Big confession time here people: I have always been insecure. There are a variety of reasons, some of which are environmental, others are organic. When in college I found out "Speech Class" meant to give one, not just write one, I dropped the class rather than face my fear of public speaking. Even now, giving speeches or being on a question and answer panel requires days of mental preparation.

I used this crippling sense of unworthiness when formulating Vivienne. Born into a man's world, asked to complete a hero's quest, daunting tasks for anyone, much less a woman whose sense of self-worth is crippled and weak. Only as she grows in experience will confidence begin to mature. Much the way I feel as I navigate the oceans of literature.

Identifying with characters is important. If we don't feel their struggles then we cannot adequately tell the story to others. One of the things I insist in all my personal book choices is a good story line. I call it "The Well Told Tale". The characters I spend the most time listening to are the ones with which I feel the most in common. Such as Vivienne.

What other elements are required for a story to grab your attention? I'd love to know what entices other readers. Leave your thoughts and let's start a discussion on elements. Every story needs them, what happens when they don't meet your expectations?

Liebster Award

Thanks you so much to  Mary Montague Sikes of Notes Along the Way on my nomination for a coveted Liebster Award. The Liebster Award is given to bloggers with fewer than 200 followers. It is such an honor just to be nominated. The rules are as follows:


Liebster Award Rules:

1. Thank the blogger who presented you with the Liebster Award, and link back to his or her blog.

2. Answer the 11 questions from the nominator; list 11 random facts about yourself, and create 11 questions for your nominees.

3. Present the Liebster Award to 11 bloggers, who have blogs with 200 followers or less, whom you feel deserve to be noticed. Leave a comment on the blogs letting the owners know they have been chosen. (No tag backs.)

4. Upload the Liebster Award image to your blog.

Eleven random facts about me

1. As a child, my grandmother used to singe my hair instead of cut it because she heard cutting ruins naturally curly hair.
2. I love to travel and would love to have been a globe trotting flight attendant.
3. I'm allergic to penicillin and mangoes.
4. I rode the Mindbender looping roller coaster at Six Flags Over Georgia 54 times without ever getting off.
5. I wrecked my mother's car 8 days before I had a driver's license. She was not amused.
6. I believe our souls life on past our physical death.
7. I've always been shy, which some people have mistaken for being a bitch.
8. My husband and I met at a gas station.
9. I have more books than bookshelves but I can't bear to part with any of them.
10. As a child I wanted to be a jockey.
11. I tend to sometimes be brutally honest, which again people mistake for bitchiness. 

Eleven Answers:
1. Knowing what you know today, what would you choose to be (profession)? Why? I would still be me, it's taken a long time to grow into a person I am comfortable with and get along with, why would I change that?

2. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would that be? Why? I would live several places: the beach, the mountains, wherever the mood takes me. The world is a constant adventure.

3. Would you rather visit the mountains or the sea? Why? Both. Each moves my soul in different ways.

4. Tell about your favorite dinner. Deep fried lobster with a hollandaise type sauce at Chops Lobster Bar in downtown Atlanta. Best. Lobster. Anywhere.

5. What part of your home most inspires you?  My family. No matter where they are, they are who I get out of bed for on a daily basis.
 
6. Do you like to read fiction or non-fiction? Both, it just depends on the subject.

7. What is your favorite book? I re-read "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy whenever I feel blue. I also re-read Ayn Rand's "Atlas Shrugged" whenever our fabulous government pisses me off.

8. Did you have a favorite subject in school? History. It fascinates me.

9. How many vacations would you like to take each year? Where? I would make my life a vacation if I could. In reality we take two, one in each of our off-seasons at work. In the summer we usually go to the beach and the winter always depends on the weather. Sometimes we ski, sometimes we visit family in warmer climates.

10. Do you prefer to fly or to drive? Fly, but I do love a good scenic car ride.

11. Are you an extrovert or an introvert? I am an introvert whose life and job have forced her to become an extrovert. 

Eleven New Questions for New Nominees:
1. What inspired you to start blogging?
2. Where do you spend most of your time when writing, developing the story or editing?
3. What childhood memory brings the biggest smile to your face?
4. If you were given three wishes, what would they be? Why?
5. Where is your favorite place to vacation? Why?
6. What are you most afraid of?
7. If you could redo one thing in your past, what would it be?
8. What is your favorite classic movie?
9. Where is the strangest place you ever found yourself?
10. If you could have one night with any person in the world, who would it be? Why?
11. Short hair or long hair?

I'm checking out blogs and gradually adding to make my list of 11. If you have time, I hope you will accept and follow the instructions for the award. I'll keep track of my growing list here, so check back often:
 

Whatever Happens In Vegas Is Probably Expensive

I have to start this post with the disclaimer that I don't drink, rarely play slot machines, certainly don't gamble and have never paid for an escort in my life. Therefore the chances of finding things to do while in Las Vegas is narrowed by a sizable percentage. Over the course of my life I have been in Las Vegas three times: in the 80's to take a defensive driving class, and then twice this century for conventions. My, how things have changed.

Remember the stories of getting great dining for very little money? Yeah, those days are gone. Now every hotel has several award winning chefs running restaurants and the prices reflect that high level of competition. I took my son with my this time. For lunch one day, we each ordered a regular hamburger, we split an order of fries, he had a soda and I had a milkshake. Grand Total: $60.00 before tip. For a hamburger!

I love to shop. I enjoy nothing more than wandering through mall after mall of shoes, purses, clothes, jewelry; it produces a calm that soothes my agitation. However, I would like to give the big names a few pieces of advice. First of all - it's a purse people, there is no reason it should have more studs on it than the headliner at the strip club down the road. I would strain my back trying to lift those suckers.

Second - what kind of world do we live in when a 40% off sale means the watch is still $12,000.00. That's more than I paid for my first new car! For a watch! Sure it looks pretty, but so does a high priced hooker and she'll hang on my arm too! Third - most people are not a size 6. Why does no one stock on their floor sizes for real people? Real people have lots of money too.

So after six days in Las Vegas I have come to the conclusion it is a great place to visit for three days tops, but more than that and the sad fact of the excess begins to bleed through until all you see are the homeless begging for money which might or might not be to feed their own addictions. All in all, it was a good learning experience for my son. The mystique and allure of Las Vegas has tarnished and he sees the truth.

Not all the glitters is really gold.

And the Oscar Goes To...

Better late than never!

Having just returned from a business trip, I have my winners for the Carrie Ann Heartbreaker Blog Hop!

Congratulations to Amber Slagle and Meghan Stith!

Thank you everyone, for visiting. There are many fabulous bloggers and authors who participate in these hops, and I still humbles me that I am one of them. I hope everyone enjoyed the story, and I will be back for the March event.

See you then, if not before.


NEXT TIME:  I spent a week in Las Vegas and all I have to show for it is a collection of prostitute trade-in cards?

The Heartbreak of A Lifetime

Are our heroes heartthrobs or heartbreakers? Or are they just the same thing? Yummy right? Valentine's Day is just around the corner for this blog hop and we're gearing up to see what exactly is a heartbreaker. Is the song playing in your head line mine? "Cuz he's a heartbreaker!" We love those sexy men, but what about those times in the story when they aren't perfect. Because come on, we know they aren't perfect. What makes those men heartbreakers? What can those guys do to make it better? Is there a way to grovel? Come on! Tell me about your heartbreaker!!

Almost 300 bloggers have giveaways and posts about those men we love!

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 $100 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!

Welcome! Today, just in time for Valentine's Day, we are joining Carrie Ann's Heartbreaker Blog Hop.

Everyone remembers their first true heartbreak. Whether it was the angst of teenage hormones or the pain of a deeper connection, heartbreak affects everyone who dares to put their emotions on the line, and each successive break is only amplified. Soon we begin to wonder why we open ourselves up for such a visceral emotional response.

My worst heartbreak came with the loss of my first real love. His name was Joey, and we were together off and on for more than four years. He was older, but the complete definition of a Southern Gentleman. With dark blond curly hair and beautiful blue eyes he could make me laugh and scream at the same time.  I loved him with every fiber of my being, and I would have jumped into a roaring fire if he asked. I thought he felt the same way.

For many years afterward I pondered our breakup, wondering what I could have done differently. On the surface, we split over religion and my own ideas for the future. I wanted college, a career, everything Women's Lib had been telling me I deserved for years. He wanted a wife, a family, someone to tend his hearth while he focused on his own career. But I have wondered for years if I had agreed to his conditions would it actually have worked?

I was always a free spirit, one who marched to the music only I could hear. Could I have tamed the will-o'-the-wisp inside long enough to live inside another's vision for my future? I doubt it. Patience was never my long suit, and I could not have given him the large family Joey dreamed off; it was hard enough to conceive the two I have.

I have to admit to a reluctant truth: If I had married my first love, I never would have rebounded into a relationship that was much more complicated, but which introduced me to the man I now recognize as my soul mate. My hindsight is perfect but took a long time to admit.

I will never forget my first love, but I forgave him long ago for choosing religion over me. The anger did nothing. But if I could still ask him the WHY question I would, just for the satisfaction of having a closure which was denied me so long ago. How can you get closure with a man who breaks up with you by sending a wedding invitation?

The relationship was a magic time, the end sent me into a tailspin for years. But now, all that remains of the heartbreak is the thin scar down my heart with his name on it. Thank goodness there aren't many others, and only one other as deep and traumatizing as the first. And so I will take the pop culture view and "Smile Because it Happened."

How about you? Have you ever been on the receiving end of a heartbreak or were you the giver? Which do you prefer in your stories, male love 'um and leave 'um or a woman who does the dirty work?  Leave a comment below and be sure to include your email address. Winners will choose from a $25 Amazon.com or B&N.com gift card.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Now Available at Amazon.com
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.