Romance by Chance

Looking Forward...

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 04 Jan 2015 18:16:00 +0000

Because there is nothing you can do to change the past. You can learn from it, so don’t discount the importance of what was. But don’t wish that things had been different—they aren't.

Decide whether you need to make better decisions in the future or if what happened needed to. There is a lesson in what we perceive as “failure”. Sometimes it leads to our greatest success.

I believe that making great change or even little ones and setting new goals should happen as needed, not just at the turn of a new year. But there is something magical and/or inspiring about deciding to strive for something greater when the clock strikes midnight—beginning 2017.

Even though I don’t make New Year’s resolutions, I do love this time of year. I love the idea of starting fresh and of an opportunity to make the new year better than the last.

So for the last couple of years, I've taken the opportunity, the time between Christmas and New Years, to take stalk of what was. And decide what I want for the future.

2016 held its challenges. Some of that revolved around work and the indecision of moving on or staying put. I had several opportunities to move on and felt a sense of pressure to do so. True to my belief that change and decision happens as needed, in October, after another opportunity came and went, I made the decision to stick with my job and see it through this rough patch. It came as a major relief to me. Sometimes indecision is the most difficult part of any challenge we face.

Writing was another area I struggled. I haven’t been able to shrug off reality enough to dream. And I need to dream (awake) to write. I need to separate, on some level, from reality to delve into the fantasy worlds that live inside me, so that I can get them down on paper. I am super excited to have pushed through the struggle and to have finished SHALLOW GRAVES. I so loved writing this story back in 2010, and to finally have gotten back to it, to finish it and still love it has been very rewarding.

A few relationships have troubled me as well and have for a few years now. Many or most of our relationships go beyond our family, and often affect us just as deeply and sometimes more often. I managed to put those relationships in perspective, for the most part anyway. I allowed those relationships to dominate my thoughts and emotions more than what was healthy for me. It was nothing they personally set out to do, knew they were doing or wanted to do. It was all me, my allowing the emotional impact. That is not an easy thing for me to admit or to have allowed. I see myself as very strong-minded person and this aspect was a big struggle for me.

I think of the saying; that God puts people in our lives for a reason and sometimes just a season. That he also moves people out of our lives when the time is right and we have to let go. I didn't want to let go despite the emotional impact. I prayed and prayed to do so and never did the answer seem to be from God to “let go”. But the hurt needed to go. The drain on my emotions had to go. It took me a long time, a lot of prayer, and I won’t say that I've come to completion with this, but I've come a long way. Both friendships are still in tact and so are my emotions. I’m thankful “letting go” wasn't the answer, for now anyway.

I've always been one to control my emotions and reactions. This year, I had to re-learn that. Just because you feel it, doesn't mean you have to say it or react to it to make it real or meaningful. Being vulnerable is difficult and scary; and the very reason I always controlled my emotions or at least my reactions to emotions to begin with.

My sister-in-law, Patty in
purple and me in pink.

I ran the 2014 Ohio Savage Race with my sister-in-law, Patty. And we've committed to do it again in 2015 along with her daughter (my niece), Rebecca, our niece, Christine and my step-son, Jeff. Training has begun. I can’t wait.

In preparation for the New Year, I cleaned out the office (aka as the junk room), in hopes of motivating myself to write the next best seller. In the process, I found $200 dollars worth of gift cards, a charcoal drawing I did when I was a teen, and the knowledge that my husband has a mild magazine hoarding issue.

My two main goals for 2015: a rockin body and a NY Times best seller. With God, all things are possible. So the closet is stocked with workout clothes and the office set for writing. I’m ready to make 2015 better than any other year before.

Life is what you make it.

Cover Reveal

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 23 Dec 2014 10:12:00 +0000

Be careful what secrets you dig up.

Blurb:

When a young girl’s body is discovered in a shallow grave on a farm outside of Ripley, Ohio, FBI Agent Kendal McNally returns to her estranged hometown to investigate. The similarities to another murder on the same farm eighteen years earlier is unnerving, not to mention the fact that she helped put her best friend’s father behind bars for the crime. Her search for the truth puts her in the middle of a serial killer’s graveyard.

Reed Harvey’s life was turned upside down when his father was convicted of murder. It didn’t help that Kendal had been the key witness in the trial or that she turned her back on him and their friendship. Now she has returned to investigate another murder, living in an apartment above his restaurant and making him remember what almost was.

Despite their past, Kendal and Reed turn to each other as Kendal’s investigation unravels a web of lies in a town where everyone thought they knew everyone’s business. And when another girl goes missing, Kendal will unearth a devastating secret that may put an end to the murders—except one. Hers.

Thank you for stopping by for my cover reveal. I am super excited about this story. I loved writing it and can't wait for you to read Kendal and Reed's story. Available in February 2015.

As a show of appreciation to all my readers, I am giving away SET FREE and UNDERCOVER for free on Amazon for the next two days (Dec. 23rd and 24th.) Click the links below for your FREE Kindle e book.

Undercover - http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0061GEXLE
Set Free - http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FVECZBW

Also, for a excerpt from Shallow Graves, check out my last post below.

Shallow Graves - Sneak Peek

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 10 Sep 2014 00:47:00 +0000

Vultures swirled overhead announcing death to anyone who cared to look above the treetops. Kendal McNally didn’t need them to tell her what lay ahead. The fetid odor of rotting flesh reached her half way across the field. The smell, combined with the hum of flies, made her thankful she hadn’t eaten breakfast before making the hour long drive to Ripley.

She picked her way around cocklebur weeds standing knee high and cow created potholes dotting the abandoned pasture. Her head jerked back as she swatted at the buzzing insects intent on attacking her face. Dry clumps of dirt pushed out of the ground, the handy work of crawdads. Deep ruts from a tractors tire and long blades of intertwining grass acted as nature’s trip wire. A minefield she stumbled through despite wearing sensible shoes and work pants.

The humid summer morning air gave a feeble gust, but didn’t budge the tendrils of chestnut curls stuck to her forehead and neck. The dark blue of her shirt showed signs of heat where damp patches clung to her back and sides.

She glanced up to see how much further. Almost there.

Two local officers stood, hands on their respective gun attached hips, watching her progress across the field. Neither of them called out a greeting or smiled.

She flashed her badge when she got close enough for them to see. “Kendal McNally, FBI crime scene,” she muttered, feeling overheated and irritated.

She ignored the curiosity that lit their faces. Whether from the name or the FBI, she didn’t know or care. She set her scene kit on the ground, unlatched, and opened the lid. Taking out the Vick’s vapor rub, she applied a swipe under each nostril, sighing in appreciation for the hot, minty cover up. Taking pity on the two officers, she handed them her Vicks.

“Didn’t realize they were calling in ID on this. You got here fast.” This came from the younger of the two officers, handsome despite the frown creasing his brow. He wasn’t happy about her presence, the locals usually weren’t, but that wasn’t his or her call. He extended his hand, surprising her. “Kyle Davis, this here’s Haywood.” He gestured toward his older, pudgier sidekick.

“Nice to meet you, Kyle. Haywood.” She shook Kyle’s large, rough worked hand, nodded at Haywood. “Who was first on scene?”

“We came together.” Kyle’s brows lifted in question.

She sighed. “Who found the body and called in the report to you?” She made a quick scan of the area. How much evidence had already been lost due to carelessness and ignorance of the officers who had yet to secure the scene?

The grave lay just at the edge of a wooded area, giving plenty of coverage for someone to hide a body. So why at the edge of woods? Why in the open?

“Hank, the farms owner. Actually, his dog found the body.” Haywood chuckled then appeared to realize the inappropriateness of his response. “Damn dog started digging and tugging at the blanket there.” He pointed.

Kendal refused to look directly at the body. Not yet. She needed to steel herself against the shock. Prepare not to react.

“Who removed the dirt from around the body?” She failed to keep the irritation out of her tone.

“The dog, I guess.” Kyle shrugged his shoulders. “We didn’t touch it.”

It? Kendal wanted to scream. It was a little girl.

“Have you been walking the area?” She gestured to the numerous footprints and trampled weeds.

“Yeah. We looked for evidence.” Haywood glanced at Kyle for confirmation.

“Why is the FBI interested?” Kyle folded his muscled arms across his thick chest.

“We’ll be helping with the collection of all physical evidence,” she stated, moving the strap of her camera so that it hung around her neck rather than off one shoulder.

“We collected evidence the last time and we’ve already searched here. What are you going to do that we can’t?” Haywood sputtered, tossing his hands in the air.

Two grave sights found on the farm in the past year with no person of interest identified seemed answer enough for Kendal. This time someone called in specialists.

She thought about ignoring Haywood’s question, but answered out of courtesy. “We need enough evidence to identify a POI.” Realizing what they needed to hear, she looked up from her camera and flashed what she hoped was a charming smile. “I’m sure you men have enough to deal with without adding a detailed scene investigation to the mix. We’re here to assist you, not take over.”

Haywood took the bait, puffing out his barrel chest with importance. Kyle didn’t sway so easy.

“You’re going to do this on your own?” Kyle asked.

“No. Another team member should be arriving….” At the sound of a car door slamming in the distance, they all glanced in the direction of the barn and farmhouse. “That’s probably her now.”

Kendal wondered how Amy would fair crossing the pasture and hoped she’d heeded her warning about wearing sensible shoes. She couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder until Amy came into view from around the barn on three inch heels and studied the situation.

Kendal smiled as she turned back to the scene and squatted down to remove numbered markers and surgical gloves from her kit, but she would wait for Amy to begin processing the scene. She needed to do a quick sketch of the area and document what she had learned so far. Interviewing the farmer, Hank, was top priority.

Taking a deep steadying breath, she took her first look at the body. Kendal surveyed the grave with the remains of the child lying within its shallow dirt walls. Ignoring the low burning sensation in her stomach, she brought the camera up to her face and focused for the first of many pictures.

The men stood there appearing confused as to what to do next.

“Holy cow shit,” Amy exclaimed, coming to an unsteady stop beside Kendal. “Literally.” Amy grabbed hold of Kyle’s arm to steady herself as she slanted backwards when her spiked heels sunk into the ground.

“I warned you.” Kendal shook her head.

“Yes. Yes you did.” Amy swung her sparkling blue eyes on Kyle and squeezed his meaty arm before letting go. “Nice.” She smiled. Kyle’s face turned beat red.

“Lets get to work.” Kendal pulled on gloves, snapping them against her wrist. She began setting numbers near the young girl’s body. A baby really, six years old at the most. Kendal shut off her thoughts, focusing on the job and let the camera capture the scene. Bruises circled the neck and the arms. Scratches. The tattered clothes. The quilt partially wrapped around the lower half of her body.

How much of what she saw had the dog disturbed with his tugging on the quilt, from digging in the dirt? Had the body been completely covered?

While she worked, Amy opened her own case, put on gloves, grabbed a prepackaged test kit, and waited. When Kendal finished, she replaced the lens cover on her camera and squatted down across the grave from where Amy knelt. A car door slammed.

“Coroner?” Amy questioned while painstakingly brushing dirt off the body, never taking her eyes off the pale, marred flesh.

“Should be.”

But it wasn’t the coroner. Kendal stood when the man approached. He was tall and shockingly thin. The police uniform hung on him as if the weight loss were recent and sudden.

“Chief, these two ladies are with the FBI,” Kyle explained as his brows furrowed over a face grown tense.

“I didn’t call in the FBI.” The chief’s gravely voice held contempt.

“Someone did,” Kendal stated. “We’re here to help. My supervisor…”

He stopped her with a harrumph and a shake of his head. “Yeah, I already spoke to him.” Riley’s Chief of Police spit a long steam of brown juice, which touched down inches short of Kyle’s shoe. “Don’t you boys got something better to do?” He snarled at his two officers. Even Kyle seemed to shrink. The chief’s authority giving him more weight than his body demanded.

“We have no problem working with the locals. We can either assist or lead the investigation.” Kendal kept her voice steady, but her insides quivered like the beginnings of a volcanic eruption.

“I don’t think so. I’ll tell you what I told your supervisor. I don’t want you here.” He jammed a finger in her direction. “You’re on your own and when you screw this up, it will all be on your head.” The chief turned and left with his men.

She watched him go, part of her falling back to the nagging insecurities that had been her companions since her teenage years. She screwed everything up just like her mother. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Kendal clenched her jaws to bite off that line of thinking. Her mother had made mistakes, yes, but she’d had help making them. Kendal shoved the thoughts away and noticed Amy staring up at her.

“What?”

“A friend of yours?” Amy asked.

“No.” She glanced again at the retreating figure. “My father.”

Sex, Lies & Murder

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 16 May 2014 01:02:00 +0000

Sizzling romance. Killer instinct. Which wins out in the end?

Four top-selling authors create a perfect escape as they take love to the edge of suspense and back, risking life, death, and emotional warfare. Sexy, edgy, and gritty, these four romantic suspense novels will keep you turning the pages, as plots rarely go according to plan, and dangerous situations delay the stories’ coming to climax.

This boxed set includes the full-length romantic suspense novels: According To Plan by Madison J. Edwards, Coming to Climax by Bobbye Terry, Emotional Warfare by Christina Wolfer, and A Perfect Escape by Maddie James.

ACCORDING TO PLAN by Madison J. Edwards

Shelby Stewart's been hired to find socialite Harrison Grant. That's good. Her ex-partner, Tank, is on the hunt for him as well. That's bad. Shelby will do anything to stay one step ahead of her uber sexy ex-lover, even play a tantalizing game of strip pool to knock him off his game. Everything should work out, According to Plan.

According To Plan is a solid erotic romantic suspense with humor, mystery, action, a hot ALPHA man and feisty, sassy, kick ass woman. ~Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews

Fast paced with great emotional quality, this story keeps you on the edge of your seat with lots of plot twists and scorching love scenes. Shelby and Tank's physical chemistry is off the charts sizzling. ~ Long and Short Reviews

Madison J. Edwards All-Romance Bestseller, award winning author who loves writing a whole log of spice into a relationship. Her stories are filled with alpha heroes and the feisty woman who keep them on their toes.

COMING TO CLIMAX by Bobbye Terry

Margaret Palmer returns to Climax, Virginia, where Southern charm hides long-buried secrets and evil lurks just beneath the surface of the daily routine. Margaret’s long-guarded secret now threatens to be exposed; but, will that no longer matter when a psychotic killer’s target is Blue Moon, the one true love of her life?

Double Finalist in Central Florida Romance Writers’ Touch of Magic and Yellow Rose Romance Writers’ Winter Rose contests.

Bravo! Well, done!! I loved it! ~ Blue is absolutely fascinating! I am in love!

Bobbye Terry is a bestselling contemporary romance writer with multiple awards for her contemporary romance, historical romance, romantic suspense and romantic comedy.

EMOTIONAL WARFARE by Christina Wolfer

When highly classified military parts go missing from Libby Aerospace Technologies, Dana Porter is sent to Wyoming to resolve the issues. The further Dana digs, the more dangerous things become, and when an ex-employee ends up murdered, she suspects someone is illegally exporting the goods.

Dana's past marital issues were handled competently and her romantic feelings fro Nick added to the emotional warfare... the emotional push-pull of the protagonists is where Ms. Wolfer shines. ~Amazon Review

Wolfer Understands the human condition and breathes life and realism into her characters ~ Amazon Review.

Christina Wolfer writes the spectrum of contemporary romance, from modern day westerns to murder and suspense. She'll keep you guessing until the very end.

A PERFECT ESCAPE by Maddie James

Megan Thomas is running for her life. Smyth Parker is running from his. Their perfect escape to the solitude of uninhabited Portsmouth Island might temporarily solve their problems, but Smyth soon learns he doesn’t need a complication named Megan Thomas—especially when she brings more danger to his life than he could have imagined.

What a tangled web! An intricate plot of mystery and suspense. James deftly combines romance and suspense, so hop on for an exhilarating ride. ~ 4 Stars, RT Book Reviews

A Perfect Escape is a well-written story that delivers great range of emotions, intense action at its best, and a great plot. Ms. James knows how to pen stories that engage the reader. ~ Fallen Angel Reviews

Bestselling author Maddie James is the author of nearly 30 novels/novellas. Her books have received numerous 5 Star and Top Pick reviews. She is frequently listed as a Top 100 Most Popular Contemporary Romance Author at Amazon.

Tell me what intrigues you about the above listed novels to be entered for a FREE boxed set give-a-way and $10 Amazon gift card. Be sure to leave an email address in your comment. Winner will be announced Thursday, May 22nd.

Set Free only $0.99 cents

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 29 Mar 2014 19:19:00 +0000

Julie Ludlow rested the rifle over the top edge of the brick apartment building, peered through the scope and sighted in her target.

She inhaled deeply to steady her shaky hands and pulled the trigger, dropping Ricky Parker to the ground on The Coffee House steps.

Seconds ticked by as she shoved another round into the chamber. Her shoulder throbbed and her ears rang as she pumped the trigger again, dropping Ricky’s younger brother, Randy, down beside him.

Julie rolled to the side, shifting the gun away from the ledge and pressing her back against the wall. With the rifle lying across her thighs, she shuddered out a breath as screams for help lifted up from the street.

Trembling, she placed the rifle in its case, and clicked the latches closed. Hunkered low, she dashed toward the stairwell and bounded down two flights to the third floor. She glanced up and down the hall to make sure no one watched as she exited the stairwell and made a quick dash to the janitor’s closet. She closed and locked the door behind her. Nausea churned as sweat beaded along her forehead and ran down between her breasts.

She’d done it. Holy shit. She’d really done it. She squeezed her eyes tight for a heartbeat of a second. No time to stop now.

She stowed the rifle case behind the large metal cabinet and grabbed her backpack from the same location. She took a deep breath, held, and let it out slow and easy. Sirens whirled in the distance as she stepped into the hall. She debated whether to take the stairs, but decided doing so would appear suspicious, so she headed for the elevators as if she did so everyday.

As she reached the first floor exit, police burst through the apartment entrance. She shrunk into a darkened doorway as they charged past and up the stairs, then she slipped out the door unnoticed. Outside, chaos reigned.

Not wanting to draw attention, she mingled among the gathering crowd, slowly making her way to the alley where she’d parked her dad’s brown Buick. Julie climbed behind the wheel and with an unsteady hand turned the key. The old beast shuddered to life. She rammed the gearshift into place and headed out of town.

With hot tears streaming down her cheeks, she left Mulsboro, Ohio behind without looking back.

Want to find out what happens next? To buy click here
Available for Kindle only

Mistletoe Madness Blog Hop

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 13 Dec 2013 22:28:00 +0000

I love traditions, especially around Christmas time. It keeps us rooted in what is important. Reminds us that there are many who came before us and that we have a legacy to leave to those who come after. Even the silly little traditions can mean a great deal later down the road, typically triggering joyful memories.

Here are a few of my favorites Christmas traditions. It wouldn’t feel like Christmas without them.

Every year, for the last 16 years, my mom and I have gone to Metamora, IN., a small village of shops.
Christmas Eve, those of us who don’t have other extended family obligations get together and go out to eat at Red Lobster. This is 40 years running.
Watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
Making cinnamon rolls Christmas morning.
Mid-night mass.
Christmas music: Silent Night, White Christmas, Drummer Boy…
Sitting at night with just the Christmas tree lights on.
Baking
And most importantly, spending time with family and friends.

Share below some of your favorite family traditions or things you love about Christmas to be entered to win a copy of my latest release, DESIRE FOR REVENGE. Please include your email address in your response.

Also, be sure to visit http://pjschnyder.com/blog/contests/ to enter to win the Grand Prize.

EMOTIONAL WARFARE

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 31 Oct 2013 23:25:00 +0000

When highly classified military parts go missing from Libby Aerospace Technologies, Dana Porter is sent to Wyoming to resolve the issues and negotiate a new contract with the United States Navy Defense contractor. But first, she’ll have to figure out why the parts are disappearing. The further Dana digs, the more dangerous things become, and when an ex-employee ends up murdered, she suspects someone is illegally exporting the goods.

Despite General Manager Nick White’s resentment of Dana’s presence, he cannot afford to lose the contract and knows she is his best bet in making sure that doesn't happen. He left Indiana over a year ago to get away from her. Now, she is scrutinizing every aspect of his business, finding inconsistencies he can’t explain and awakening old feelings he thought long gone.

Together, they will race against time to stop the illegal exports and secure the contract, but with hearts and lives on the line, not everyone will walk away unscathed.

World News Report: A plan to attack the U.S. embassy in Sudan was thwarted Wednesday night when an unmanned aerial vehicle was shot down by U.S Military forces stationed in the area. Government officials stated that The UAV, carrying launch missiles, was spotted hovering near the embassy and identified as an immediate threat. No terrorist group has stepped forward to lay claim to the attempted attack.

Prologue

Khartoum, Sudan

Khartoum’s New Islamic Alliance Military Compound

Zufar was dead.

The words like a mantra repeated in Rustan Hasan’s head, mocking his very existence.

Zufar was dead. Zufar was dead.

It should have been me. The thought roared through him like a freight train, the painful truth suffocating. Not Zufar.

The pressure in Rustan’s chest built, closing off the air in his lungs as the commander of the Khartoum’s New Islamic Alliance fraction told them of the attack against the United States. Blood had been spilled in accordance with the Quran. But Rustan, with his heart breaking, did not care about advancing Islam, about Allah’s law or the overall goal of the mission. He wanted to drop to his knees and scream out the rage tearing at his insides.

His legs trembled, and his stomach convulsed. A loud howling filled his head drowning out the words of his commander, but not the pain. The thought of his mother and sister pierced his heart. His shoulders shook beneath the olive green of his military uniform as his mind flipped back in time of two skinny boys playing along a dirt road. Makeshift swords of long twigs gripped in their hands as they fought an imaginary foe.

“One day,” nine-year-old Zufar had claimed. “I will fight and kill the real enemy.”

Rustan pulled away from the memories, snapping his shoulders back to quiet the trembling. He would not humiliate Zufar’s memory by falling apart in front of his comrades. He would not disgrace his family.

Zufar had been brave, and the Muslim Brotherhood would glorify his actions. Allah would reward him in the afterlife. Zufar had lived and planned for the day he would commit jihad against their enemy. His day had come, but to Rustan, it was without victory. The enemy had won. They had succeeded in killing a great man—his beloved brother.

Trinity, Indiana USA

The thrashing and groaning tugged Dana Porter out of a deep sleep. She bolted upright with the realization that her husband struggled with a muscle spasm. She jumped out of the king size bed and circled around to Ted’s side. His eyes squeezed tight against the pain, his fist clenched in a seized state. His sweat-slicked body scented the air with bitter pain. He tried knocking her hands away as she worked to roll him onto his stomach.

“Leave me alone,” he forced out between clenched jaws.

A part of her wanted to leave him to writhe in agony until he begged for help. But he would be stubborn, and she couldn’t allow the pain to go on that long.

She positioned herself, one hand at his shoulder, the other at his waist. Mentally, she counted to three, then lifted, and shoved at the same time. He screamed out as he rolled onto his stomach.

Tears stung her eyes.

“Okay, it’s almost over.” Climbing on the bed, she knelt over him and began to knead the knotted muscles of his back with the heels of her hands, ignoring the ache moving up her arms.

Dana consoled herself with the knowledge that things weren’t as bad as they had been right after the accident that left him paralyzed from the waist down. The spasms had come weekly then, but over time had diminished to every six months.

He resented her help, but didn’t fight her with the enthusiasm he once had. Oh, he remained emotionally shut off, almost proudly so.

“That’s enough, Dana. The spasm’s gone,” he murmured, tugging her back to the present.

She climbed from the bed and helped him onto his back. The spasms always left him weak and unable to manipulate his way out of bed. He would need help, and the need would piss him off.

She pulled the blankets up to his waist and thought, as she often did, what a magnificent chest he had. His arms and upper body thick with rope-like muscles from years of dragging his lower body around. She had told him once how beautiful his body was, running her hands over his chest. He had looked at her in disgust and pushed her hands away. The memory kept her from touching him now, kept her from looking into those ice blue eyes.

“Do you want to get out of bed or sleep a few more hours?” She asked, bracing herself for his harsh response.

“What are you going to do?”

She glanced at him, confused by the quiet reply. “I’ll go ahead and get my shower, maybe head into work early.”

“I’ll just lie here a while longer.” He grabbed her wrist when she turned away. The voluntary touch surprised her. “Thank you, Dana.” His words stunned her.

She faltered. “You’re welcome,” she mumbled and then retreated behind the bathroom door.

Under the hot spray of the shower, she let the tears scald her cheeks while painful, silent sobs ripped through her body. Three years and it still broke her heart at how cruel fate had been to Ted, how brutal it had been to their love.

****

One month later.

Trinity, Indiana, USA

Dana stared at the computer screen, but didn’t see the spreadsheet displayed. She was thinking back to earlier that morning. She and Ted had made love, if she could call it that. It was the first time in ten months. At twenty-eight years old, she was lucky if it happened twice a year. And Ted was capable of more but the need had to build to the point of breaking before he would touch her or allow her to touch him. Even then, he only tolerated her climbing on top of him to complete the act.

No kissing. No hugging or words of affection.

On some level, it made her feel dirty. On many levels, she wondered what was wrong with her, why her husband didn’t want her? Was he no longer attracted to her?

Dana rubbed at her eyes to push back the tears.

A meeting reminder pinged as it popped up on her screen. Dana grabbed a pad of paper and pen, glad for the distraction, and headed down to the conference room.

Nick White’s face lit up the minute she walked in, lifting her spirits. She circled around to sit next to him.

“You look pretty. That’s a good color on you.” His eyes lingered. “Is that a new top?”

Pleased that he noticed, Dana felt the warmth glide over her cheeks. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Are you going out with us Friday after work?”

“I’m planning on it.”

A group of them made a point to go out a couple times a month. Most of them single and still hitting the party scene, but Dana enjoyed spending time with them away from the job. They kept her feeling young.

Paul Nickels, the production control manager, rushed in at the last minute. “Sorry folks for the delay. I know we’ve all got a lot on our plates, so let’s get working on this month’s sales and manufacturing plan.”

The day flew by.

It was after six when she pulled into the driveway at home. The housekeeper they had hired to cook and clean three days a week was still there, which was odd. Mrs. Hodges normally left by five thirty to get home to her own family. Thinking something might be wrong with Ted, Dana rushed into the house and was greeted by laughter.

Setting down her purse, Dana followed the sound of voices to Ted’s office. She stopped outside the open door and listened.

“Ted, these are fabulous. When did you take them?”

“The summer between high school and college. A buddy and I where on a rock climbing mission, to climb as many mountains as we could. I took pictures everywhere we went that summer.”

Dana heard the smile in his voice and the wistfulness.

“You loved the photography as much as the climbing,” Mrs. Hodges stated matter of factly.

“Yes. I did.” Ted chuckled. “Look at this one.”

Dana leaned against the wall and squeezed her eyes closed against the burning tears and the ache in her chest. He was sharing something good, his happiness with Mrs. Hodges.

Why won’t he share that with me? Anger simmered below the surface.

“That bag up there, could you get that down for me. It has my old camera in it.”

Dana stepped into the doorway as Mrs. Hodges reached for the bag on the second shelf of the closet—one Dana could have easily reached for him.

“I could have gotten that for you,” Dana said.

Ted turned his head to look at her, the smile vanished, and the coldness slithered into his eyes. He put the lid back on the box of photographs.

Mrs. Hodges set the camera bag down beside Ted’s wheelchair. “Oh, Mrs. Porter, you should look at some of these photos.”

“No,” Ted said sharply.

Silence filled the awkward space.

Dana watched Ted. His jaws clenched as he refused to look at her.

Mrs. Hodges clasped her hands together. “I should be going. Dinner is warming in the oven.”

Dana turned away and walked down the hall to the bedroom. She changed clothes then forced herself to the kitchen where Mrs. Hodges had already set out plates and utensils. Dana removed the food from the oven and placed it on the table. Ted wheeled himself into the room and took his place.

They ate in silence as they always did.

On Friday evening, Dana met up with the group from work at the local watering hole. Nick was nowhere around. She shook off the sense of disappointment as she sat and ordered a beer.

She and Paul were in the middle of a debate about the Indianapolis Colts when Nick showed up. Her lips lifted when their eyes met. He grabbed a chair from a neighboring table and made no bones about asking everyone to scoot down so he could pull up along side Dana.

“Sorry, I’m late. My dad called to inform me that he and my mother are coming to visit next weekend.”

Despite the roll of his eyes, Dana could tell the prospect of seeing his parents made Nick happy.

“You can’t wait.”

Nick laughed. “No, I can’t.” He lifted his hand to get the waitress’s attention and ordered them both another beer. “I wish you could meet them. You would like my mom’s sense of humor.”

“Who are you most like?”

And as they talked, one by one the others left. Before Dana knew it, she and Nick sat alone talking and laughing.

Sneak peek at SET FREE

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 14 Oct 2013 01:35:00 +0000

Julie Ludlow rested the rifle over the top edge of the brick apartment building, peered through the scope and sighted in her target.

She inhaled deeply to steady her shaky hands and pulled the trigger, dropping Ricky Parker to the ground on The Coffee House steps.

Seconds ticked by as she shoved another round into the chamber. Her shoulder throbbed and her ears rang as she pumped the trigger again, dropping Ricky’s younger brother, Randy, down beside him.

She’d done it. Holy shit. She’d really done it. She squeezed her eyes tight for a heartbeat of a second. No time to stop now.

With hot tears streaming down her cheeks, she left Mulsboro, Ohio behind without looking back.

YEAR END SPLASH

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 08 Oct 2013 01:48:00 +0000

Tough Mudder

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 12 Jun 2013 00:22:00 +0000

I am a Tough Mudder finisher.

To do ten + miles is accomplishment enough, but add to the fact that 75% of those miles were in ankle deep mud with 22 obstacles along the way, and I say hell yeah.

I hope I never see or walk in mud again. It seemed to take days to get all the mud out of each and every crevice of my body. But I’m glad I did it, if nothing else so that I know I never want to do it again. Okay, I said that and meant it the day after the event when everything but my face hurt. In the month and a half that’s followed, I’ve convinced myself that I could do the event better if I trained harder. Somebody shoot me.

So, what does it mean to be a Tough Mudder? Well, the events consist of a 10-12 mile grueling course with a variety of obstacles, such as the Electric Eel, the Arctic Enema and Everest. The proceeds benefit TheWounded Warrior Project. That alone made the whole thing worth it.

Part of the team - before picture.

It’s not a race. Your only competition is yourself. How hard do you want to push yourself? What fears do you want to conquer? It’s all about teamwork and with the right team, like mine, no man is left behind.

So did I reach my own goals? If I compare myself to how the rest of my team did, I’m disappointed in myself, hence the need to do it better. I’m not use to being the weak link. When I compare it to anything else I’ve done in my life, when I compare myself to other participants, most who where 10 to 20 years younger than me, then I’m extremely proud of myself. I’ve never done anything like this. I completed 10.5 miles and attempted 14 of 22 obstacles. I was exhausted. I kept going.

Me jumping in the Atrctic Enema

Do I have regrets? Yes. There are three obstacles I wish I would have tried, but didn’t either due to fear or exhaustion. The Electric Eel—I realize now that I could have done it and wish I had tried. The Boa Constrictor—flat out, fear got me on this one. And Everest−while I have some concern over my knee, I wish I had tried at least once to make it to the top.

Unfortunately, the main obstacle that I was determined to do, I ended up not doing, but I do feel I made the right choice. Walk the Plank, a 15 + foot drop into water. I am not a strong swimmer and I’ve never liked to go into water over my head. That fear was bigger than I expected. I had gone through two other obstacles prior to Walk the Plank that put me in water over my head. I felt a sense of panic I didn’t expect. Both times, I pushed through the fear and kicked my way to the edge to get out. But by the time I arrived at Walk the Plank, I knew I didn’t want to risk it. After 9 miles and 18 obstacles, my body was exhausted and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to push past the panic or even be able to swim. So I opted to walk around.

The team - Mud Mile 1

With that said, in the weeks that followed a sense of confidence seeped into me, a sense of accomplished, but, yes, there was also acknowledgement that there was a lot of room for improvement. I’m just enough of a competitor to need to prove to myself that I can do better. I recently learned that Tough Mudder is coming to Wilmington, OH in the summer of 2014. I plan to be ready.

Desire for Revenge

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 05 Apr 2013 03:02:00 +0000

Excerpt

            Can I cheat death twice?

            AJ Harris had a feeling she was about to find out.

            Pain streaked up the trunk of her body as she dropped to her knees onto the concrete sidewalk. The blaring sirens from the surrounding police cruisers warbled, and her vision blurred.

            Shot. What a stunning realization.

AJ’s right shoulder burned where the bullet struck. Her arm went numb then began to tingle. Unable to force her hand to wrap around the grip, her gun dangled, swinging inch by inch until it slipped off the end of her finger and hit the ground. She flinched, waited for the impact to send off a shot, but it only clattered onto the concrete.

The zing of bullets and the crack of gunfire penetrated her ears, forcing awareness of the situation past the pain.

Move. Her brain screamed, transmitting the message to other parts of her body. Leaning at an awkward angle, she fell onto her hip and rolled to a sitting position. Using her feet, she pushed until her back bumped against the rough brick wall of the Sear’s building. It provided little protection, but something was better than nothing.

With any luck, the bullet had tagged her vest. She slid her hand under her jacket and probed along her shoulder until hitting a tender spot, which sent pain bursting into her chest and down her arm. Her fingers rested in the wet, thick warmth of her blood now soaking the sleeve of her police issued shirt. Nausea churned. She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on staying lucid.

Damn it. This can’t be happening. The guys were finally showing her some respect and treating her as if she was part of the team. Not an easy task in a male dominated industry, and for Hillside’s police department where she was the first and only female patrol officer, the difficulty magnified by ten. Going down in the first round on her first major call wouldn’t look good to her co-workers. How could they trust her to have their backs?

Where had she gone wrong? Dispatch had called out a bank robbery in progress with hostages and damn near the whole police department had arrived before her. She’d expected the suspects to be inside the bank, not on the roof of the building. There had been no warning until the first shots rang out.

Her mistake—assuming. She should have stayed alert, more watchful.

The sudden silence yanked her from her analysis. The eerie quiet more ominous than the gunfire. Fear crept down her spine. Something was wrong.

The calm before the storm?

A few of the officers moved to position themselves near the bank’s front doors. Others peered over the hoods of their cars, everyone trying to determine if the suspects were still on the roof or had retreated inside.

The squawk of the police two-way radio reached AJ, but she couldn’t focus on the relay of information.

Sitting on the hard, cold sidewalk, a deep penetrating chill seeped through her, reaching to her bones. The buildings acted as a funnel, blasting the winter air down through the streets. She shivered, clenching her jaws against the hot points of pain. March had arrived, but for the Midwest, frigid temperatures and snow were still a frequent occurrence.

She noticed everything around her. The gray buildings, the bare trees surrounded by concrete slab. The strobe lights on top the cruisers, the only color breaking up the bleakness. In complete contrast to the cold was the warm, fresh scent of donuts from the nearby bakery.

A vivid image of her grandpa standing behind the counter of his own bakery not twenty minutes away, in an older, quieter part of town, came to mind.

He’s lost so much already. More than anyone should have to bear.

AJ shook her head, pushing the thought away. She couldn’t let worry distract her from the current situation. Think.

She glanced up and down the street. Rush hour in downtown Hillside had come to a screeching halt. No cars with anxious drivers behind the wheel jockeyed for position on crowded streets trying to get home. Office workers, leaving for the day, now cowered back inside buildings or ran out of harm’s way. The normal flow of traffic rerouted.

Things like this didn’t happen in small town Ohio. But didn’t everyone say that? Even for a large suburb north of Cincinnati, the residents didn’t see much crime and definitely not in the form of a bank robbery with hostages.

AJ scanned the area until her eyes landed on the familiar face of her friend and supervisor, Steve Hastings, squatted down with his back pressed against the side of the cruiser. He spoke to Captain Marcus Delhi, who hunkered down beside him with the door of the cruiser open and communicating with his team over police channels.

Seeing Steve steadied her frayed nerves. He would give her hell for getting shot, for making him worry, just like he would with any one of his team members. She gave him a thumbs-up when he glanced over at her, letting him know she was fine.

The blood was running down her arm and out the end of her sleeve, staining the sidewalk. There was so much blood.

What if I’m dying? Panic tightened her chest. Her eyes darted back to Steve.

He moved so that his shoulder now supported him against the car, and he faced her. He mouthed the words, ‘are you hit?’ and she nodded. Steve said something over his shoulder to Delhi, who nodded in reply.

AJ realized what Steve intended to do and held up her hand to stop him, but he ignored her. She fumbled for her gun to provide protection then remembered it lay a few inches away on the pavement. It wouldn’t have mattered. The movement froze her with pain.

Then he was squatting in front of her with concern in his eyes and a cocky grin across his handsome face. He grabbed her gun off the pavement and returned it to her holster.

“Let’s take a look.” He lifted the edge of her jacket to peek.

“The arm is useless.” She bared her teeth at the grim lines bordering his mouth. “I’m fine. Don’t be a fool.”

But he didn’t budge. “I’ve been a fool for you from the moment your scrawny ass walked into roll call.” He smirked.

AJ snorted out a laugh, knowing her ass was anything but scrawny. Her vision wavered, and she reached for him, gripping his arm with her left hand.

“You’re losing too much blood. Hold on, kiddo, I’m going to get you out of here.”

A single gunshot rang out, and she heard the dull thud of the bullet imbedding itself in a solid mass. She saw the shock cross Steve’s face and the void in his eyes seconds before he fell backward onto the sidewalk.

The silence ended. Gunfire erupted around them, drowning out her screams as adrenaline pushed her away from the wall and on top of Steve’s motionless body.

She heard yelling but the voices faded away along with the sound of bullets rocketing by her head. The smell of blood and gunpowder mingled to nauseate and confuse her. But the pain in her shoulder eased as she lay on top of Steve and felt the warmth drain from his body. She whispered his name once, or so she thought, as the tears ran down her face.

And she knew he was gone.

Desire for Revenge will be available the last week of April 2013.

Mistletoe Madness Blog Hop

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 14 Dec 2012 05:00:00 +0000

Twas the Night before Christmas – Romance Style

By: Christina Wolfer

Twas the night before Christmas with a silk teddy draped over the chair

She put on the last of her makeup and ran her fingers through her hair.

The stockings were snapped to the garter with care,

In hopes that her hero soon would be there.

Into the teddy, she slid with delight

And checking the mirror knew it looked just right.

With tiny lace straps and in the color of red

Instead of standing by the fireplace, she chose to wait on the bed.

Soft candle light flickered as her internal flame burned.

Every nerve ending pulsed and her stomach churned.

He was all that she wanted and wished for tonight.

She had only this moment to get everything right.

And then to her wondering eyes he did appear

She could see by the look, his desire was clear.

Oh, how handsome, tall, dark and rough,

She knew in a moment, one night would not be enough.

He strode to the bed, trailed a finger down her face,

Then continued down to touch the silk and the lace.

He said not a word as he let his hands roam

She drew in a breath and let it out on a moan.

He lay down beside her, so lively and quick,

He took her to heaven for he knew every trick.

More rapid than eagles, he too then came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called her by name!

She lay quietly beside him, waiting to hear

The words “I love you”. She waited in fear.

For every good Romance must have a great plot

And in the tangled story the heroin got caught.

For in the beginning, she thought what a jerk

But as the story moved forward, his charm it did work.

They labored through the conflict, both internal and out

And then in a flash, she fell in love, no doubt.

But now as Christmas morning drew near,

Only one thing remained she needed made clear.

And she pondered and wondered as she stared at the wall,

Did he feel the same thing or nothing at all?

She started to speak, but he stopped her in stride.

His eyes – how they twinkled – his mirth he could not hide.

He kissed her mouth roughly, then kissed her once more

As he reached for his pants that lie on the floor.

And out of his pocket our hero did take

A bright, shiny diamond and it wasn’t a fake.

He held it out for the heroine, who smiled with glee

For all of her wishes this Christmas had come to be.

“I love you,” he said as his sexy lips drew up like a bow

Outside in the beautiful Christmas morn, it began to snow.

And all was complete, wrapped up neat and tight

They heard in the distance “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!”

I Love Halloween

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 31 Oct 2012 23:20:00 +0000

I live in the country, however, and there is one downside - I don't get Trick-or-Treat little ones at my door. So this year I'm making it up for this by taking treats to work tomorrow (graveyard brownies to the left) and by participating in a Halloween Blog hop over at Romance Author Hotspot

It's My Party and I'll Give Presents Away if I Want to

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 19 Jul 2012 01:04:00 +0000

I’m turning 44 on July 19th and lucky for me, I’ve got nothing to cry about, except maybe a few more wrinkles and dimples that I didn’t have 20 years ago. But with each year that passes its hard not to look back and ponder the decisions I’ve made, to reminisce, think about where I am and what the future holds, to think about the accomplishments and yes, the failures.

I remember riding the bus for the hour-long trip to school everyday, staring out the window and being the star in the daydreams of my future. There was always adventure in those inspirational moments, many twists and turns, and oh, the drama. Inevitably, there were horses and I was a world-renowned horse trainer. There were sexy men with hearts of gold who swooped me off my feet. And the career woman who beat the odds in a male dominate world. I wanted to be anything but what I was and anywhere but on that school bus.

I had four major goals or vision for my life during those hours and years riding that yellow hunk of metal - they included the following:

1. Career woman

2. Barrel racer

3. Horse trainer

4. Published Author

The decisions and reminiscing:

1. Career woman - I went to college despite a school counselor telling me not to bother going because I’d never make it and a father who said I’d end up pregnant before it was all said and done. Jokes on them, considering that would never be possible, me getting pregnant that is. And not only did I make it through college, I did it with flying colors. Since graduating, I have done all the things I though a career woman would do. I’ve had the luxury of travelling all over the U.S. and staying in some magnificent hotels. I’ve worn fancy dresses to fancy dinners and drank some of the best Champaign (I’ll take a beer any day, thank you). I’ve given presentations to corporate staff and have sat in hour long meetings with customers from foreign countries. Was it as glamorous as the teenage girl thought it would be, at times—yes, but for the most part—no. It’s work just like anything else.

2. Barrel racer - When I was in my late twenties, I decided it was time to pursue this dream. I bought a 15-year-old seasoned barrel racing mare (Baby D), who taught me the ropes. We competed for fours years together and running some pretty good times when I had to retire her due to arthritis and the fact she’d gone blind in one eye. She’s thirty-two years old this year and looks like a spring chicken. She is doing great and enjoying life. Even though I don’t barrel race anymore, it’s still a dream fulfilled. I think about getting back into it, but it just hasn’t been the same since riding Baby D.

3. Horse trainer - This one is simple. I bought a yearling and trained her to replace Baby D. With the exception of hating to go in the horse trailer, she turned out to be an excellent all around horse. She is good in competition, but never managed to fill Baby D’s horseshoes. Where she does excel is with the little ones. Put a child on her back and she is the sweetest, gentlest horse you will find. I trained a horse. Goal accomplished.

4. Published Author - This one took the longest to achieve. More from lack of trying than anything, because once I tried things sorta happened pretty fast considering five years is nothing compared to the industry standard. It has been possibly the hardest to achieve because of the personal, emotional and time investment that it takes to write and then sell a book. And the time investment isn’t just your own, but your families, too. The time it takes away from them. It has been, however, the most satisfying, self-rewarding accomplishment because in writing I have found my passion.

Where I am:

Literally, right now? On my front porch, a cool breeze blowing across me and my laptop as I write. But in life terms—it’s all good. I’m still working the career woman angle until the movie deal comes through for one or all of my books. Hey, just because I’m 44 doesn’t mean I’ve stopped dreaming. I’ve still got my horses and I enjoy them even if I don’t barrel race or ride as often as I’d like. Spending time with them, watching them in the pasture and smelling them when I walk into the barn brings me peace.

I have my dream home—a log cabin—and live on the farm I grew up on as a child. I have wonderful people around me—family and friends, many are both.

I count on exercise now like never before and age defying creams all in effort to look younger than what I am. I’m playing softball again for the first time in 17 years, and that’s purely for enjoyment and because I missed it.

God is a strong force in my life and I thank him everyday for the many blessings. I pray for strength to be the person He wants me to be and I hope one day to be worthy of His love and mercy.

What the future holds:

Who knows, right? It could all end tomorrow. Not the world, but my life or my life as I know it, but you can’t spend your time dwelling on that. You do the best you can and what’s meant to be will be.

Work as if it all depends on you and pray as if it all depends on God.

For my birthday, I’m giving away a FREE copy (e-book or print) of EMOTIONAL WARFARE and a $10 gift card to Amazon to two lucky commenters. Leave a comment below about a goal achieved or anything else or just leave your e-mail address to be entered to win.

ARC GIVE-AWAY: EMOTIONAL WARFARE

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 11 Jun 2012 23:57:00 +0000

Leave any comment below regarding your plans for the 4th of July between now and midnight of the 4th and I will enter you in a drawing for an Advance Reading Copy (ARC) of EMOTIONAL WARFARE. Winner announced Thursday, July 5th. Please leave your e-mail address if I don't already have it or check back for the winner.

Book Blurb:

When highly classified military parts go missing from Libby Aerospace Technologies, Dana Porter is sent to Wyoming to resolve the issues and negotiate a new contract with the United States Navy Defense contractor. But first, she’ll have to figure out why the parts are disappearing. The further Dana digs, the more dangerous things become, and when an ex-employee ends up murdered, she suspects someone is illegally exporting the goods.

Despite General Manager Nick White’s resentment of Dana’s presence, he cannot afford to lose the contract and knows she is his best bet in making sure that doesn’t happen. He left Indiana over a year ago to get away from her. Now, she is scrutinizing every aspect of his business, finding inconsistencies he can’t explain and awakening old feelings he thought long gone.

Together, they will race against time to stop the illegal exports and secure the contract, but with hearts and lives on the line, not everyone will walk away unscathed.

Excerpt:

Khartoum, Sudan

Khartoum’s New Islamic Alliance Military Compound

Zufar was dead.

The words like a mantra repeated in Rustan Hasan’s head, mocking his very existence.

Zufar was dead. Zufar was dead.

It should have been me. The thought roared through him like a freight train, the painful truth suffocating. Not Zufar.

“One day,” nine-year-old Zufar had claimed. “I will fight and kill the real enemy.”

Trinity, Indiana USA

“Leave me alone,” he forced out between clenched jaws.

A part of her wanted to leave him to writhe in agony until he begged for help. But he would be stubborn, and she couldn’t allow the pain to go on that long.

She positioned herself, one hand at his shoulder, the other at his waist. Mentally, she counted to three, then lifted, and shoved at the same time. He screamed out as he rolled onto his stomach.

Tears stung her eyes.

“Okay, it’s almost over.” Climbing on the bed, she knelt over him and began to knead the knotted muscles of his back with the heels of her hands, ignoring the ache moving up her arms.

He resented her help, but didn’t fight her with the enthusiasm he once had. Oh, he remained emotionally shut off, almost proudly so.

“That’s enough, Dana. The spasm’s gone,” he murmured, tugging her back to the present.

She climbed from the bed and helped him onto his back. The spasms always left him weak and unable to manipulate his way out of bed. He would need help, and the need would piss him off.

“Do you want to get out of bed or sleep a few more hours?” She asked, bracing herself for his harsh response.

“What are you going to do?”

She glanced at him, confused by the quiet reply. “I’ll go ahead and get my shower, maybe head into work early.”

“I’ll just lie here a while longer.” He grabbed her wrist when she turned away. The voluntary touch surprised her. “Thank you, Dana.” His words stunned her.

She faltered. “You’re welcome,” she mumbled and then retreated behind the bathroom door.

Cover Reveal for WEIGHTED by Ciara Knight

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 25 May 2012 21:53:00 +0000

Weighted is a young adult post-apocalyptic with paranormal elements. It is a prequel novelette to The Neumarian Chronicles, and will be released August 2012. Book I,Escapement, will be released in 2013.

Blurb:

The Great War of 2185 is over, but my nightmare has just begun. I am being held captive in the Queen’s ship awaiting interrogation. My only possible ally is the princess, but I’m unsure if she is really my friend or a trap set by the Queen to fool me into sharing the secret of my gift. A gift I keep hidden even from myself. It swirls inside my body begging for release, but it is the one thing the Queen can never discover. Will I have the strength to keep the secret? I’ll know the answer soon. If the stories are true about the interrogators, I’ll either be dead or a traitor to my people by morning.

Getting Lost in the Story

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 10 May 2012 02:56:00 +0000

I’m one of those people who can completely get lost in a story, become part of the action and emotion swirling around the characters. My heart thuds in my chest along with the heroine’s as she rescues horses from a burning barn and it leaps for joy at the sight of the man she loves (TwoBrothers). I feel the beat of the music as a dancer takes the floor at a nightclub on the arm of a handsome partner and the pain experienced when the truth is revealed (Silent Partner). The tickle of fear streaks down my spine with a sickening churn in my stomach when I see the face of a teenage girl trapped in a burning building (Silent Scream).

But that’s me.

I’ve learned over the last 9 months that not everyone gets totally lost in the story, even an exceptionally well written one. They can’t let go enough of their surroundings, their thoughts or worries to become one with what they are reading.

To me, this is the whole point of reading—it’s an “escape hatch” as Stephen King would say. And yes, I’m slightly addicted to King since finishing his book On Writing. I never expected to like it so much.

Anyway, I’ve also learned that there are those who get even more engrossed than I. They invest so much of themselves into the story and the characters that they become very angry with the author for not giving them the ending they expect, the closure they feel they and the character deserve.

As a reader, I don’t begin reading a book with an expectation of how it should end, except for the necessary happy ending that the romance genre is known for. That is why I read romance. I don’t expect the characters to act or speak a certain way. The unknown is part of the journey, the best part, in my opinion.

I started out writing this thinking about a few typos in my own published books. Some people noticed and some didn’t. Then an author friend told me not to worry, she found typos in every book she’s ever read. Okay, she actually mentioned my favorite author’s name, which I refuse to repeat. If you know me or have been here before, you know of whom we speak. I’ve never found a single mistake while reading many, if not all, of this favorite authors books. Why? I think it’s because I’m so immersed in the story that I don’t notice the mistakes. I’m not just reading the words, I’m living it, feeling and breathing it.

Some, maybe most, of the ability to get lost in a story depends on how well it’s written. But I think it can have a lot to do with one’s ability to let go of the real world. It’s kind of like sex, they say a woman can’t reach orgasm if she can’t relax, if she can’t let go of the worries of her day, if she’s uptight, tired, or stressed. Maybe the same is true when it comes to reading. If we are feeling guilty about sitting there, doing nothing, and thinking, “I really should clean or cook…” or whatever else it is we heap on our shoulders, then chances are we aren’t going to relax enough to get lost in the story.

So what do you think? Is it the Author’s ability or lack of to pull us in? Or do our own lives play a part in keeping us from getting lost in the story?

"I never did like this story."

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 01 Apr 2012 20:55:00 +0000

Nope, this isn’t an April Fools' Day joke. Emotional Warfare was a difficult story for me to write. I think because it hit too close to home. They say to write what you know, but there’s something to be said for putting distance between your real life and the make believe world we create. Anyway, I shoved the story aside and went on to write two more novels, and found myself in a quandary. I could not, in good conscious let the story, the characters and the fours months I took to write the draft go to waste. It had potential and was worth the effort. So, I put my foot down with ME and wouldn’t write the next book or complete the two written since until I finished Emotional Warfare. I couldn’t do it. I sat spinning my wheels, not wanting to go backward and not allowing myself to move forward. Something had to give. More on that later.

This probably isn’t the smartest thing for an author to admit about their own work. After all, if I struggled with it then surely you won’t want to read it.

Not true. Really, you say. YES, I insist.

How many of you have seen the movie or read the book, Carrie by Stephen King? Did you like it? Have you watched the movie more than once? The answer is yes for me.

Well, King didn’t like Carrie White. He admits this in his book, On Writing, that he never did like her character. He might not have finished the story if his wife hadn’t found the crumbled up pages of the beginning in the trash and asked him to finish. He struggled to do so, but it is the novel that launched his career. He had published many other stories, and wrote several novels he liked better, but it was Carrie that gave him his big break. Because we liked the story even though he did not.

I can’t say my dislike for Emotional Warfare goes that deep. I wrote the first draft without any problem. I liked my characters, and there was merit to the story. But I was stuck. How many of you are asking yourselves, “Well, then why did you write it?” Because the characters were in my head and they had a story to tell. The first draft was easy because it was just the basics. It was when I had to get down to the details, when it got difficult that I wanted to walk away from the story.

With that said, here is some insight from King’s book, On Writing, that hit home for me:

I had written three other novels before Carrie—Rage, The Long Walk, and The Running Man were later published. Rage is the most troubling of them. The Long Walk may be the best of them. But none of them taught me the things I learned from Carrie White. The most important is that the writer’s original perception of a character or characters may be as erroneous as the reader’s. Running a close second was the realization that stopping a piece of work just because it’s hard, either emotionally or imaginatively, is a bad idea. Sometimes you have to go on when you don’t feel like it, and sometimes you’re doing good work when it feels like all you’re managing is to shovel shit from a sitting position. King, Stephen (2000-10-03). On Writing (pp. 77-78). Simon & Schuster, Inc.. Kindle Edition.

I can say with some confidence, and I think my editor would agree, that I was not shoveling shit when writing Emotional Warfare. But then it is all in ones perception of what is good and what is bad—just like any work of art, beauty is subjective.

I like to compare writing to doing a painting. You do the first draft, which is the outline or sketch of the picture then you go back over and over to layer in the color, filling in the lines. I struggled to do that with Emotional Warfare.

Here’s what finally gave: I submitted Emotional Warfare to my publisher, thinking if they put me under contract, I would then be on deadline and forced to finish it. And that’s exactly what happened. It is almost done; currently working through it’s final (I think) round of edits. It’s a good story, if I say so myself, and will be released July of this year. Here’s hoping that, like Stephen King’s Carrie, Emotional Warfare will ultimately be the book that gets me known—Okay, I’ll say it, that it makes me famous. Hey, it can’t hurt to dream. After all, being published was once only a dream and it came true. My fingers and toes are crossed.

Emotional Warfare blurb:

When highly classified military parts go missing from Libby Aerospace Technologies, Dana Porter is sent to Wyoming to resolve the issues and negotiate a new contract with the United States Navy Defense contractor. The deeper Dana digs into the issues, the more dangerous the situation becomes and Dana suspects the parts are being illegally exported.

Despite General Manager, Nick White’s resentment of Dana’s presence, he can’t afford to lose the Navy contract and knows she is his best bet in making sure that doesn’t happen. When he accepted the promotion and moved to Wyoming over a year ago, it was to get away from Dana. Now, she’s scrutinizing every aspect of his business, finding inconsistencies he can’t explain and awakening old feelings he thought long gone.

Emotions are high as they battle to control the situation and their potent attraction. Together, they will race against time to stop the illegal exports and secure the deal, but with hearts and lives on the line, not everyone will walk away unscathed.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 00:55:00 +0000

Things to do:

Drink green beer
Wear green or maybe you like getting pinched.
Go to a parade
Hang out at an Irish Pub
Attend church - after all it is about St. Patrick the Patron Saint of Ireland
Watch March Madness
Eat Cornedbeef
Attend a St. Patrick's Day dance
Kiss a Leprechaun
Find the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow (I think they call that the lottery)

How do you celebrate St. Patty's Day?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 15:47:00 +0000

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!

Marriage Proposals

HOME by Calisa Rhose

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 10:00:00 +0000

In September 2010, I took Eliza Knight's "Edit Your Book in a Month”, an online course I highly recommend, btw. Little did I know that I would come away from the class with more than editing skills, but a great group of friends who are there for each other during the highs and lows of not just our writing careers, but our lives. We call ourselves the WritingDiva's.

So I am tickled pink to be celebrating the success of one very special WritingDiva, Calisa Rhose, on her debut release HOME. I finished reading HOME last night, read it in two sittings and love this story. The characters practically walk off the page. Great job, Calisa.

You are so going to want to leave a comment for chance to win a copy of this fantastic story.

Here is a little about Calisa: She is a small-town country girl who lives in a semi-remote area of Oklahoma with her husband, five dogs, one cat and one horse. All of her three daughters and their families live within throwing distance. She’s a member of RWA and the local chapter OKRWA. She intends to nurture and continue to grow as an author with the help of her family and supporters.

Welcome, Calisa. I'm happy dancing around the room in your honor.

Thanks for having me here, Tina! I’m so excited about this interview.

To give everyone a glimpse into who you, I've got just a few quarky questions. What does your husband think of your writing career? Does he read your stories?

Mitch is very supportive. He told me this summer after I sold my first book that he wants me to stay home and write so he can retire! He hasn’t read my books but he helps me brainstorm on occasion. He has a very creative imagination.

It's great that he supports and encourages you. I know how important that is. My hubby doesn’t read my stories either, but he knows them almost as well as if he had. So what can we expect to see from you next? What project is in the works?

I’m working on a contemporary cowboy short story that I hope The Wild Rose Press will pick up. I’m also working on a fireman story and a paranormal series.

Sounds like you’re keeping busy. I’m a sucker for cowboys, myself, so I would love to hear more on the cowboy short story. Now for some non-writing related questions. What is the top item on your bucket list? And why?

It used to be sell a book but now that I’ve done that...to take hubby on a real vacation. A cruise or something.

I know you love horses and since I do as well, tell us about your horse.

A topic so dear to my heart! My daughter bought Sonny for me when I returned to Oklahoma five years ago. She knew how much I miss my other horse I’d raised and had to sell a few years before the move. Sonny is 20 this year. He’s a 15.3 hands sorrel quarter horse and spoiled rotten. He’s so tame and easy going that my now six yo granddaughter learned to ride on him when she was just three. My niece used him to teach two young girls to ride and they rode him in NEOSHA horse shows taking 2nd-5th placements two years in a row.

That is great, Calisa. Sonny sounds like a special part of the family.

If you could be a cartoon character, which one would you be and why?

Hm- I’m gonna say Olive Oil because though I’m not tall, I am thin and I think I’m intelligent. :)

LOL. I would never have thought of Olive Oil, only because it has been so long since I've heard anyone mention her. Good choice.

If you were to write a book about yourself, what would the title be?

Never Marry a Mail-Order Preacher

Okay, I should have added a why? I’ve gotta ask, but I’ll do that in the comments section.

Man Fan Favorites:

Chest: Hair or no hair? No hair, though a little teaser trail is nice.

Face: hair or no hair? Typically no, but if worn right I like it.

Boxers or briefs? Boxer briefs. I love how they cuddle and conceal!

Jeans or Suits? Absolutely jeans!

Dark or Blonde? Dark.

Bad boy or Good boy? I like a good bad boy. *grin* Or a bad good boy maybe.

Rough or gentle? Gentle

HOME Blurb:

What could a gypsy and a Vietnam veteran have in common?

Silvertown’s outcast, Poppy Tippen, has loved football hero Sam “The Force” Callahan forever. But he never seemed to know she was alive. Now he’s home from the war and she suddenly finds herself comforting him from the demons of “that damn war.” Is his attention merely an escape from the haunting nightmares? Or does she hold the interest of the only man she’s ever truly loved?

Sam Callahan’s only solace from the war nightmares wrecking his life comes in the unlikely form of a gypsy girl with stigmas of her own. He’s known Poppy his entire life, but there’s something different about her now. Something special he desperately wants to hold on to. Can he convince her she’s the only thing he needs to put the past behind him?

Get your copy of HOME at The Wild Rose Press and on Amazon.

Find Calisa at her website/blog http://calisarhose.wordpress.com/

On twitter @Calisa_Rhose and Facebook @Calisa Rhose

She loves to hear from readers so drop her a line at calisa.rhose@gmail.com

Calisa will be giving away an ebook copy of HOME to one lucky commenter. So please leave emails in your comment to make it easier to contact the winner. If I can’t find the winner, then I’ll choose another.

Excerpt from The Daughter - Available Now.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 18:08:00 +0000

Blurb:

Abandoned by her mother at birth, social worker Katie Delynski believes love and relationships are learned—and she hasn’t learned anything good about either. She avoids both love and relationships by focusing on her career and by getting prostitutes off the street. But when a man she’s never met commits suicide and names her as his daughter, leaving her millions of dollars and a family full of new relatives, things change. Her new family invites her into their lives, stirring a sense of belonging she is afraid to believe in.

Determined to put her windfall to good use, Katie buys an old building for a women’s shelter. Her newfound family puts her in touch with Conner Patterson, a family friend, to help rehab the building. As work progresses, Katie finds herself falling in love with Conner, but fear keeps her from acting on her feelings. It soon becomes apparent, though, that Conner may be her only hope for survival, when someone hurt by her father’s past indiscretions is determined to make Katie pay for her father’s sins.

Excerpt:

Prologue

With his right hand, Keith O’Neil lifted the crystal rocks glass above his head and watched as the light sparkled like amber diamonds through the southern bourbon. In his left palm, the cold weight of the semi-automatic .22 pistol taunted, asking if he had the balls to pull the trigger.

He downed the liquor, the hot bite coursing along his throat, a bitter reminder that life still pumped through his veins. Yet, it was the liquid courage he needed to complete the task at hand.

A cowards task for sure.

He set the glass aside and shifted the gun to his right hand. It was lightweight and compact, the metal smooth and almost seductive as though luring him into the siren’s song of death. He smiled, feeling the lull of the words… Come, come and play with me. There are no worries here….

Yes. That’s what he wanted. No more decisions. No more pain.

For a Catholic raised within the confines of a strict but loving family, suicide was the unthinkable sin. His parents taught him to believe it would give him eternal life in hell. The final act, he figured, of condemning his soul to the devil.

He glanced around his office, loving the shapes and contrasts he’d created for his personal space, a home away from home. The black leather square furniture favored his masculine side and the dark wood of the wet bar stocked with the finest liquors catered to his love for the expensive. A private bathroom adjoined the room from the right and a massive picture window stood at his back overlooking the city of Philadelphia. He had designed the building with his own hands, one of which now wrapped around the small gun, ready to destroy rather than create.

His status as a millionaire led the public to believe he held the world in his hands. He thought so himself at one time, believing his money gave him power. When he finished with people, he pushed them aside, ruining marriages, businesses’ and friendships, thinking he had earned the right with each dollar he’d made.

He had pissed off some important people along the way, ones who had wanted to take him for everything he was worth and be done with him. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Once he was six feet under, they couldn’t touch him. He might be guilty of wrongdoing, but they weren’t pillars of the community either.

He spent money as he saw fit and invested using insider information. His tastes ran toward expensive homes, cars, quality booze and imported cigars. Oh, he gave to charity when giving served his purpose, but believed ‘doing good’ made one vulnerable and weak.

But things, time, his own body turned against him. How had he gotten to this place, when ending the pain seemed easier than facing life? It was surreal, a terrible dream.

Despite the money, he had been vulnerable and weak after all.

Cancer didn’t care about wealth or status.

Knowing death lurked made a person take stock of his life. Regret rumbled at Keith like a freight train with no breaks, forcing him to face the bright light rather then jumping from the tracks before it slammed into him.

One for the road. He reached across the mahogany desk to grab a cigar. His eyes caught on the photograph sitting to the left. The frame matched the office décor—his secretaries doing. She had set the family portrait there, too, thinking he would appear more human to his clients.

The picture of him, his parents and brothers dated back five years, capturing a time when he thought he had forever to make things right. They, his family, chose the day after his fiftieth birthday to schedule the sitting. He’d shuffled his calendar around so he could be available and was sure to make his family aware of what an inconvenience they had been. And for what? Plans he now couldn’t even remember.

There had probably been other pictures since, and if that were true, they had not invited him. And he hadn’t had forever to make things right. His parents passed away three years later, eight months apart and he missed them. His eyes welled with tears and he swiped the sleeve of his crisp blue shirt across his face in embarrassment.

God, what a pussy. Shame followed him everywhere these days.

If he had the balls to go through with this, Debbie, his secretary of seventeen years, would find him in the morning. Would she be sorry he was gone? Would she miss him? It wasn’t likely. He had done nothing to earn her respect. She had stayed on with the firm after ending their affair because he paid well, not because she cared about him.

She would be surprised to realize, though, how much he cared about her. No, he didn’t love her, not the way he had Rachel Molloy, but he did want her to be happy. He was glad she chose to stay with her husband and not tell him about the affair. One marriage he hadn’t ruined.

Everything was set. He had spoken to his lawyer last week and made a few changes to his Trust. With his death, a plan would be put in motion to right his wrongs. Those affected by the truth might not understand at first, but in time, they would appreciate the wisdom of his actions. He only wished he had done this years ago.

He should have paid closer attention. Simply by being absent from their lives, he had hurt the people he loved most. He had done very little for his family, but hoped what he left behind would make up for what he had been unable to give while alive.

No question, he would leave his mark on the world. Large, beautiful buildings scraped the skies of every major city in the United States and in foreign countries. They would live on long after he was gone. He had hobnobbed with presidents, kings and dignitaries, all for his own glory and satisfaction. But his death would mean nothing to them. No one would miss him, not his brothers, who he hadn’t seen in two years, or the daughter he knew only from a distance.

His biggest regret was letting his little girl go through life without a dad, having never known his family. He had letters and pictures from the girl’s maternal grandparents, the ones who had raised her, but he could have had more, done more. Lord knows he couldn’t have taken care of her himself, not then, and neither could her mother. But the child, now a twenty-nine year old woman, never knew….

She would soon enough. She would at least know his name.

He poured another shot of bourbon, left it sit on his desk while he toyed with the gun and listened for the seductive temptress to call to him. And when she did, he picked up the shot and downed the warm comfort. His right hand stopped shaking as he put the cold barrel of the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.

Chapter One

Illegitimate Daughter of Millionaire Keith O’Neil Inherits Fortune.

Katie Delynski snatched the newspaper out of the receptionist’s hand and glanced around the social service department lobby to see if anybody else was reading the mornings news. To her relief, Vicky was the only one.

“Not a word of this to anyone,” Katie instructed, folding the paper under her arm and making a beeline for her office.

“But that’s my paper,” Vicky called after her.

“You’ll get it back.”

Katie shut her door and dropped her lunch and the article on top her desk. She sat before her legs gave out, took a deep, steadying breath and then dared to look at the headline again. The grainy picture accompanying the brief piece was several years old.

The lawyer, Derek Pratt, had warned her, but she hadn’t expected the information to leak so soon. Just two weeks ago, she had learned the truth herself. Truths she could have gone her whole life never knowing.

When she’d received the phone call requesting her presence at the reading of Keith O’Neil’s Trust, she had laughed, telling the man he had the wrong number. But then she’d told her grandparents about the call and her world had shifted beneath her feet when they confirmed Keith was her father.

Now, everyone would know.

Breathe, she instructed. You cannot have a panic attack at work. She closed her eyes against the sting of angry tears.

The shrill ring of the phone startled her. She checked caller ID before answering, thankful when her best friend’s number appeared. “Oh God, Lana, did you see the paper?”

“Yes. Are you okay?”

“I’m shocked, as stupid as that seems considering I knew this might happen.”

“What can I do?”

“You’re doing it.” Katie couldn’t imagine life without Lana, who was more like family than she was a friend. “I keep thinking this can’t be happening to me.”

“You’re going to be fine.” A heavy sigh eased across the line. “I know you don’t want to hear this but you should meet with the O’Neils’ tonight.”

“No.”

“Katie…”

“I won’t go through that again.” Katie’s breath shuddered out at the very thought.

“Come on, it was a shock for them, too. Bad first impression. It happens.”

“They’re only worried about the money.”

“What if they really are interested in you? Is that so hard to believe?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think about it. Listen, my eight o’clock appointment is here. I gotta go.”

Throughout the day, Katie caught people staring at her and conversation stopped when she entered the ladies room. Were they speculating about the money or her being illegitimate?

God, how she despised that word.

The tabloids and respected newspapers alike, had plastered Keith’s suicide across their pages. A Millionaire at the Top of His Game, or so the headlines had said. Yeah, right. People don’t take their lives when they’ve reached their highest point. They end it when they find themselves at the bottom, at their lowest and most desperate.

As a social worker in the heart of Philadelphia, Katie had seen it all—death and suicide—often enough to recognize despair when she saw it, reeking like the rotting of ones soul.

When five o’clock struck, Katie wasted no time gathering her belongings and heading for the parking lot. She rounded the corner of the building and hit a wall of media. The flash of cameras blinded her; her arm flew up to shield her face. She turned, searching for a way out, but they surrounded her, yelling questions.

“Is it true Ms. Delynski, you were not aware Keith O’Neil was your father?”

“How does it feel to be a millionaire?”

“How are you dealing with the suicide of your father?”

Sweat popped out over her entire body as the crowd shifted, knocking her off balance. She grabbed the nearest arm to keep from falling, attempting to step forward, but her escape route closed off.

“Will you continue to work?”

“Of course,” Katie responded. “Excuse me, please.” Tears of frustration and panic surfaced as the air wheezed from her lungs.

“Hey, buddy, watch it,” someone yelled.

Then the reporters parted like the Red Sea as a big man pushed his way through and grabbed Katie by the elbow.

“Back off and give the lady some room,” his voice boomed with authority. Taking advantage of the media’s momentary bewilderment, he pulled her away from them. She had to jog to keep up with his long strides.

“Who are you?” she asked, but received no answer.

At her car, the man turned his back, placing himself between her and the angry mob of reporters bearing down on them. With shaky hands, Katie rushed to unlock the door to her old yellow Volkswagen and hesitated to…what…thank the stranger? His towering height forced her to look up.

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes a pale blue reminding her of the sky on a clear cloudless day and then his full lips curved into a devastating smile that left her transfixed for one…two…three seconds.

“Conner Patterson,” he said, answering her question and breaking the spell. “Go on now. Drive safe.”

Inside her car, she gripped the steering wheel to keep her hands from shaking as she drove away. The tremble running through her body did not stop. The lawyer was right. She wasn’t prepared to handle this. She kept the tears in check as she headed for home. The fragile hold broke when she pulled down her street to find reporters camped out in front of her house. She turned around in the first driveway and sped away.

To purchase click here.

Twas the Night Before Christmas - Romance Style

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 03 Dec 2011 03:12:00 +0000

Twas the night before Christmas with a silk teddy draped over the chair.

She put on the last of her makeup and ran her fingers through her hair.

The stockings were snapped to the garter with care,

In hopes that her hero soon would be there.

Into the teddy, she slide with delight

And checking the mirror, knew it looked just right.

With tiny lace straps and in the color of red.

Instead of standing by the fireplace, she chose to wait on the bed.

Soft candle light flickered as her internal flame burned.

Every nerve ending pulsed and her stomach churned.

He was all that she wanted and wished for tonight.

She had only this moment to get everything right.

And then to her wondering eyes he did appear

She could see by the look, his desire was clear.

Oh, how handsome, tall, dark and rough,

She knew in a moment, one night would not be enough.

He strode to the bed, trailed a finger down her face,

Then continued on down to touch the silk and the lace.

He said not a word as he let his hands roam.

She drew in a breath and let it out on a moan.

He lay down beside her, so lively and quick,

He took her to heaven for he knew every trick.

More rapid than eagles, he too then came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called her by name!

She lay quietly beside him, waiting to hear

The words “I love you”. She waited in fear.

For every good Romance must have a great plot

And in the tangled story the heroin got caught.

For in the beginning, she thought what a jerk

But as the story moved forward, his charm it did work.

They labored through the conflict, both internal and out,

And then in a flash, she fell in love, no doubt.

But now as Christmas morning drew near,

Only one thing remained she needed made clear.

And she pondered and wondered as she stared at the wall.

Did he feel the same thing or nothing at all?

She started to speak, but he stopped her in stride

His eyes – how they twinkled – his mirth he could not hide.

He kissed her mouth roughly, then kissed her once more

As he reached for his pants that lie on the floor.

And out of his pocket our hero did take

A bright, shiny diamond and it wasn’t a fake.

He held it out for the heroine, who smiled with glee

For all of her wishes this Christmas had come to be.

“I love you,” he said as his sexy lips drew up like a bow.

Outside in the beautiful Christmas morn, it began to snow.

And all was complete, wrapped up neat and tight.

They heard in the distance “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!”

Five Special Gifts

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 20 Nov 2011 15:03:00 +0000

I know, right, another blog about Thanksgiving and all it’s trimmings. Well, not exactly. I want to introduce you to five beautiful women that, yes, I am thankful to say I know. I want you to meet them because of something they are doing, something that inspired me and should inspire us all. But before I go further, let me make the proper introductions:

Tory Rummel, Kim Wiederhold, Christine Wolfer, Krystle Gauche, Patty Luschek

Starting November 1st, they began posting on facebook what they are thankful for. Their goal - post something everyday for thirty days. I was intrigued and impressed. I didn’t participate, but I watched, smiled and clicked ‘like’ on many occasions, and nodded my head in agreement and understanding. Their posts ranged from the simple things they felt blessed by to the world around them. They gave tribute to their country, their friends, their family and their beliefs.

They didn’t do this for attention or for gain. They didn’t know that I would ask permission to write about them and share their blessings. I didn’t even ask them why they felt compelled to do it. All I had to do was look at their posts each day to know the reasons why.

We get caught up in all the bad around us and in the world that sometimes - often times - we forget to be thankful, to pay attention to the good in our lives. In the good we can do in the lives of others.

Obviously, I can’t include every single post they've each made, so below you'll get only a sampling. As you read, keep in mind that these women don’t have perfect lives. They face the same world we all face, they all work outside the home, they are raising or have raised children, they’ve loved and have had their hearts broken, they’ve been touched by cancer or other illnesses in their lives or the lives of loved ones, and they have all experienced loss. They are who we are, who we can be, what we should strive to be - real women, strong women, beautiful women - who choose to focus on the good in their lives.

Patty - I am so thankful for my wonderful parents and the love they gave me. With their love and support I am who I am and am so thankful. :-). Love ya Mommy and Daddy!!!!!

Christine - I am thankful for my Sisters...they know just what I need at all times!! I don't know what I would do without them!!

Krystle - I am thankful that in this recession I am able to have a job to help support my family.

Tory - Today and everyday I am thankful that I married my best friend 7 years ago. He graciously accepts my constant opinions, doesn't complain that I hate to cook, supports me through everything, and is the best daddy Cara could ever ask for. Love you babe!

Kim - I am thankful for the smell of fall harvest!

Christine - I am thankful/blessed to have a beautiful, happy and healthy baby girl!! She is 15 months old today. I love watching her personality get bigger everyday!! She makes my world a much better place!!

Krystle - I am thankful for the farmers who go out in the spring to plant and go out in the fall to harvest those crops that help feed the world.

Patty - I am thankful for the roof over my head. It may not be a show home but it is ours and provides us shelter, and warmth. There are so many that are not as blessed.

Tory - Thankful every minute of every day for my mother. I'm almost 30 and her supporting nature never fails me. Truly an angel here on earth. She continues to amaze me with her love and ability to care for others. I pray I am half the mom she is.

Kim - I am thankful and truly blessed to work with so many amazing people

Krystle - I am thankful for my little sister who I may have beat up a time or two, argued with, cried with and laughed with.

Christine - I am thankful for all of my Grandparents!! All of my Grandma's are now my angels in Heaven and so is my Papa Howard!! But those in Heaven and on earth mean so much to me!!

Tory - thankful for laughter and the people that make me laugh. That's what gets me through the days most often.

Patty - today I am thankful for the wonderful time over the weekend. Good company and Good entertainment.

Kim- I am thankful for my baby sister, Patty Wolfer Luschek. She may not realize it, but, I value her opinion and treasure every moment we share.

Tory - Today I am thankful for answered prayers, the grace of God, and being raised a strong Catholic.

Christine - I am so very thankful for my amazing Mom! She has never failed me and she showed me what being a Mom is truly about. She also taught me how to work hard and be a strong woman!

Patty - Today I am thankful for my faith in God and the Love and Blessings he has granted to my family and me.

Krystle - I am thankful for my wonderful neighbors. They watch over our place like a hawk whether we are home or not, as we do for them too.

Kim - I am thankful to live in a country that gives its people a voice. Vote!

Tory - I am thankful for my best friend in the whole wide world, Maggie Schoellman Crawford! Since 3rd grade, she has been my sister from another uterus!

Christine - I am thankful for my Daddy! He taught me what loving selflessly means! His love has shown me what kind of love I deserve as a woman!

Krystle - I am thankful that God blessed me as a mother. So many people don't get the chance to experience the joy of motherhood. Even though I felt the heartache of losing one and feel very blessed to have 2 healthy and happy boys and 1 angel above.

Patty - On this day, the only thing on my mind is how thankful I am for all the brave men and woman that have and are serving our county. I am very blessed that many of my friends and family have served and have come home safe. Thank you and God Bless you all!

Kim - I am thankful for growing up and staying in the country. Where values and beliefs are strong and opinions are honored. We don't have to always agree, and I will fight for your right to disagree with me.

Tory - I am so thankful for my cousins. Each and every one if them. Its true cousins are your first childhood friends and the ones you can always count on!

Krystle - I am thankful for one of my best friends Ashley Attinger. She is a strong person, a firecracker and doesn't tolerate crap from anyone.

Kim - I am thankful for food on our table, coffee in my cup, gas in my car and faith in my heart. All those things keep me going!

Christine - I am thankful today is Friday!! It means I get two days to do whatever I want. I choose to spend them with my girl...can't wait!!! ;-)

Patty - Today I am thankful for the sun in the sky there is nothing like a beautiful morning with a little sunshine.

I want to thank these wonderful women for letting me share bits and pieces of their story. In honor of them, I am giving away five e-books to five lucky commentors: Undercover, All Bets Are On, Buried In Briny Bay, Love's Long Shadow and Two Brothers. I hope you will take a moment to share with us what you are thankful for. Drawing will be Friday, Nov. 25th.

To the right of the screen, you can view the five e-books that will be given away. I would like to thank authors Bobbye Terry and Ciara Knight for graciously donating a copy of their books. Click on their covers to see more detail or to purchase the book. See below for other books by these authors:

By Bobbye Terry: THE MARRIAGE MURDERS, BURIED IN BRINY BAY, COMING TO CLIMAX. Sequel, NICK OF TIME, By Daryn Cross, WALK RIGHT IN, L&L Dreamspell
Visit Bobbye at: http://bobbyeterry.blogspot.com/

By Ciara Knight: Love's Long Shadow. Visit Ciara at: http://www.ciaraknight.com/

UNDERCOVER - Available Now

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 15 Oct 2011 20:13:00 +0000

As a police officer, Erica Salinas is determined to eliminate as many gangs as she can. When she's offered an opportunity to go undercover as a student at a Chicago city high school to stop the drugs trafficking its halls, she jumps at the chance. She intends to right a wrong committed against her family years ago and prove to herself she isn't the coward she once was.

It doesn't take long for her to identify the two gangs that rule the school and get offered drugs. But she isn't satisfied with runners, she wants to go up the chain to the dealer and supplier.

She befriends a boy who has connections with one of the gangs, hoping to get closer to her goal. Instead, she finds herself getting attached to the kid and falling in love with his brother, Derrick.

Sparks fly when Derrick and Erica meet for the first time. Derrick can't believe she is only seventeen and takes on a moral battle when he can't get her out of his mind. How will he ever forgive her when he finds out the real reason she's there?

Erica knows she is putting the case at risk by getting too involved. And when she spots a gang allegiance tattoo on Derrick's wrist, she'll have to decide if her career and avenging her sisters death is more important than love.

Undercover (novella) - available in digital formats at the following places: Amazon.com, All Romance e-books and Smashwords.

Print version - coming soon.