tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60668774903745190272024-03-26T23:36:38.103-07:00Nuttin' But BooksUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger397125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-17909323791656166182024-03-19T21:00:00.000-07:002024-03-19T21:00:00.134-07:00❤Inside the Pages: ST. JAMES INFIRMARY by Steven Meloan #bookspotlight #insidethepages<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQf72oB2aZoMdqYY7kvhHqfGzPurY8rRKyKq1tdshP4vcHX-7aywPcL7PeTVU13NMmJEPr70sa0T1GPKUaPlRraOuyhN8oIUceTqw4xgMutCXhURFTBztkCX1Cflwqp73LPaW0caaAHRh7TY8WGe8gTan2Ze8HJkcoGkRGi2kzh_o17x4PGQXizxGB_p4/s758/St.%20James%20Infirmary%2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="758" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQf72oB2aZoMdqYY7kvhHqfGzPurY8rRKyKq1tdshP4vcHX-7aywPcL7PeTVU13NMmJEPr70sa0T1GPKUaPlRraOuyhN8oIUceTqw4xgMutCXhURFTBztkCX1Cflwqp73LPaW0caaAHRh7TY8WGe8gTan2Ze8HJkcoGkRGi2kzh_o17x4PGQXizxGB_p4/s16000/St.%20James%20Infirmary%2020.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><br /><p></p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name"><a href="https://nuttinbutbooks2.blogspot.com/2023/09/inside-pages-hatch-change-your-life.html"></a>
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<p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="78" data-original-width="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOiIC8VCxt8bzfmkixpHy_9lQSbjzwe1aIin2qRPAQMfLvnpCTkQPImuBPMKc-Jcvy3KeEpb0zy6XH5G1OGdfkuOPZh-hVqVGIgrT5avPriJA_aZvNiu92YGwn_fLXz44aRs2iAa9Si8/s1600/inside+the+pages.png" style="border: medium; color: #b81a09; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; position: relative;" /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJqUbcChG-ndpojtMFvhEzHOFlaQR5JeLv8WEmuw_pBoi8CFITwLThP151Tx6lR7hc66OswYMjOqH8KfSjcOIFacQ2t-bDNH7vv60rf3rwQvI65v6ZJf8x2i9ZukaFhf3mCqIlLBa23szhpfC3Jr3krtlpOvKy8MWy4EJXQ_Ma6yb5H-ABn-6GlsU34qw/s540/St.%20James%20Infirmary%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="363" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJqUbcChG-ndpojtMFvhEzHOFlaQR5JeLv8WEmuw_pBoi8CFITwLThP151Tx6lR7hc66OswYMjOqH8KfSjcOIFacQ2t-bDNH7vv60rf3rwQvI65v6ZJf8x2i9ZukaFhf3mCqIlLBa23szhpfC3Jr3krtlpOvKy8MWy4EJXQ_Ma6yb5H-ABn-6GlsU34qw/s320/St.%20James%20Infirmary%20cover.jpg" width="215" /></a></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcdfH9S0kl_okbYD5QpL5Gcb-t_7wBC4yMqoWpKDYWXaCtqYvFv2tcQXterO30HhSoZ7RUJkzyoNtCAXeRyNpkHsEMdl0jgUdbmCpBSoVOYvmLJVf0JtyzW0woFR8r_QWl04YC3c-oSuSF3Y1FcsCZn8DPcA5P2LWr9pfrxFhzNrIrdJRqc9R-UpAZkJM/s532/The%20Dreaming%20Team%20cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span><span style="font-size: large;">Title: St. James Infirmary</span></span></span></span></a></div></span></span></span></span> Title: St. James Infirmary<br /></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-3062120283122918212" itemprop="description articleBody"> <span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Author: Steven Meloan</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publisher: Roadside Press</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Pages: 80</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Genre: Short Stories<br /></span>
<p>
</p><p>A book of short stories by Steven Meloan.</p>
<p>Steven Meloan’s writing has been seen in Wired, Rolling Stone, Los
Angeles, BUZZ, the San Francisco Chronicle, and SF Weekly. His fiction
has appeared in SOMA Magazine, the Sonoma Valley Sun, Lummox Press, and
Newington Blue Press, as well as at Litquake, Quiet Lightning, and other
Bay Area literary events. He has regularly written for the Huffington
Post, and is co-author of the novel The Shroud with his brother Michael.
He is a recovered software programmer, and was a street busker in
London, Paris, and Berlin.</p>
<p>“Reading these stories, I felt like I was hearing an original voice
for the very first time. They are surreal, cinematic, poetic, and have
real punch-with everything I could want in a collection of short
fiction. Set in California and Europe, from the 1960s to the 1980s, they
vividly capture lost times and lost places. They have echoes of Jack
Kerouac and Paul Bowles, and can be read again and again with a sense of
wonder and pleasure.”-Jonah Raskin, Author of Beat Blues, San
Francisco, 1955</p>
<p>“<i>St. James Infirmary</i> is a captivating collection of stories
that takes readers on a dark and uncanny journey through everyday life.
Meloan’s writing has a haunting subtlety that draws one in, as if
witnessing the events in real-time. With sharp insights and unexpected
twists, these stories explore complex human relationships and the
often-mysterious forces that shape them. Meloan vividly captures the
gritty reality of each setting, throwing a column of light into the
underground of the ordinary. For fans of evocative writing that stays
with you long after the final page, <i>St. James Infirmary</i> is a must-read.” </p>
<p>– Roadside Press</p>
<p>St. James Infirmary is available at Amazon at <a href="http://tinyurl.com/fv3zr2hn">http://tinyurl.com/fv3zr2hn</a> and Roadside Press at <a href="https://www.magicaljeep.com/product/james/129">https://www.magicaljeep.com/product/james/129</a> .</p><p></p><p></p></div><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s454/book+excerpt.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="76" data-original-width="454" height="54" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s320/book+excerpt.png" style="border: medium; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></p><p>
</p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">It
had been a long, hard cross-country drive west, in our boat-like 1960s
Mercury cruiser. My parents could only cover a few hundred miles a
day—because my brother and I were always hungry, or bored, or needed to
pee. After a half-day of driving, my father would finally give in, check
us into a roadside Motor Hotel, where we would swim, eat burgers,
bounce like monkeys between beds in the musty room, and then fall into
exhausted sleep.</span></p><p></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="4c5f7b97-f712-4975-8e7c-95c9b5486530" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-4c5f7b97-f712-4975-8e7c-95c9b5486530" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The final stretch had seemed an eternity of highway—parched plains, tin-badge sheriffs wanting payments for (we suspected) manufactured infractions…and then the haunted moonlit expanse of the Mojave Desert. My parents had purchased an after-factory A/C for our new car—a rare luxury for the time. But because of it, the car was endlessly overheating.</span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="bff7b8e9-5f3e-409e-a137-595300d92093" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-bff7b8e9-5f3e-409e-a137-595300d92093" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Knowing nothing about such things, my college-professor father opened the hood, cars roaring past us in the starry night. He pulled out his handkerchief, loosening the radiator cap, unleashing a boiling geyser of water that blew ten feet into the air. He howled into the night like a wounded animal. My mother applied Vicks VapoRub (there in case my brother or I fell ill) to his badly blistered forearm, and we continued on into the desert expanse.</span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="9328bb85-bb74-40a5-8b57-74a69077a80b" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-9328bb85-bb74-40a5-8b57-74a69077a80b" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So after all that, it was a relief to have finally arrived—to be in Los Angeles. We pulled in at midnight off the Harbor Freeway, our legs stiff, our butts numb. Rolling down the windows brought the distant roar of traffic, which I imagined to be the ocean. The breeze carried with it the smell of oranges and dust, and other new and indefinable things.</span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="10f7eebd-6eb7-4ff7-a12a-8e906ba7689d" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-10f7eebd-6eb7-4ff7-a12a-8e906ba7689d" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And Downtown L.A. wasn’t much back then, almost a ghost town by night. My brother whispered over to me, “…It’s not very nice here, is it? Not like Indiana.”</span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="1cf2add3-b1d1-4c10-8edf-421c841d3b9c" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-1cf2add3-b1d1-4c10-8edf-421c841d3b9c" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My mother peered out into the solitary darkness, involuntarily gathering her coat around her. I watched her tired face lit in pale fluorescence, reflected in the car’s window glass.</span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="a63a9ffe-ceae-4dd4-a835-f4aa8c3b3c4c" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-a63a9ffe-ceae-4dd4-a835-f4aa8c3b3c4c" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And once again, my brother and I needed a snack, and had to pee. A diner at the corner of Pershing Square glowed in the distance like a solitary oasis—neon-red and fluorescent-white splashing out onto the dark oily streets. “Googies”—the two O’s of the sign forming curious cartoon eyes.</span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="2656d55e-d9f2-47cd-ba30-83e3c07b8972" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-2656d55e-d9f2-47cd-ba30-83e3c07b8972" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Cruising past, we saw solitary men inside hunched on red naugahyde stools, nursing cups of coffee, and maybe a slice of pie. I wondered what people were doing out at that hour, and all alone.</span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="ed0ef5b3-b5c7-45b8-816b-c80bd4710e46" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-ed0ef5b3-b5c7-45b8-816b-c80bd4710e46" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“I’m not taking the children in there,” my mother said as we pulled up to the curb. “It’s full of bums!”</span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="49c2d349-01f2-4ad1-9e82-3e7e4b6b0fe2" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-49c2d349-01f2-4ad1-9e82-3e7e4b6b0fe2" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My father, tired from the road and his arm still raw, growled back—“If they get hungry enough, they’ll get used to it!”</span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="0f2e4e61-9aef-4fd4-b654-77328c590381" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-0f2e4e61-9aef-4fd4-b654-77328c590381" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We were the only family in the place, the young waitress giving us a booth by the window. The unearthly brightness and neon trim felt like a space station. At a nearby stool, a man nervously traced a finger along the pastel shapes etched in the countertop, stubbing out the last of a cigarette, and then lighting another.</span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="ea11c12a-c4f9-41b3-a000-51dd1a4c72e1" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-ea11c12a-c4f9-41b3-a000-51dd1a4c72e1" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But after a fountain Coke, a grilled cheese, and fries, all felt right again with the world. Even my father seemed in better spirits. We checked into our hotel—the “Cloud Motel,” just west of downtown. The rooms smelled of stale cigarettes and bleach. But a glowing swimming pool hummed in the center courtyard, its lattice of turquoise light dancing in invitation.</span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="e0560c65-87c8-4f11-aade-efca8de38009" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-e0560c65-87c8-4f11-aade-efca8de38009" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The next morning, we all went sightseeing—billowing L.A. clouds against a painfully blue sky, impossibly tall palms swaying in the breeze, and the jacaranda trees in full purple bloom. It was before the era of smog, and the downtown gleamed like Oz.</span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="91c6ffc1-5277-429f-94d1-3e71e6a61f8c" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-91c6ffc1-5277-429f-94d1-3e71e6a61f8c" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When we came back to our room later that afternoon, though, we found my mother’s dresses and blouses inexplicably stuffed into a plastic trash can in the hall outside the door. My father’s face tightened in rage. Like a detective, he slowly unlocked the door of our room. Inside, three men in their underwear sat at a small round table, smoking cigars and playing cards. Their wiry black chest hair spilled out from white-ribbed undershirts, and a lone woman lounged on a far chair, her legs crossed, wearing nothing but a bra and panties.</span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="26f28195-84b9-4d74-a9e4-f85da74de6cb" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-26f28195-84b9-4d74-a9e4-f85da74de6cb" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“What the <i>hell</i> are you doing in my room!” my father snarled.</span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="987629d5-0bec-4649-ae5b-55e92835c6e5" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-987629d5-0bec-4649-ae5b-55e92835c6e5" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“What the hell are you doing in my room?” a man who appeared to be the leader of the group shot back.</span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="e7eef1eb-8dd1-42d1-8ada-7ab9cb583f34" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-e7eef1eb-8dd1-42d1-8ada-7ab9cb583f34" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My father spun out to the hall, grabbed the trash can filled with my mother’s clothes, emptied the contents into the trunk of our Mercury, and then headed for the hotel office. My brother and I stood outside with my mother, her arms wrapped around us. Inside the glass enclosure, we saw my father waving his arms, his mouth contorting into vague obscenities. In response to something the desk clerk said, my father drop-kicked the plastic trash can clear across the office lobby. He’d never been good at sports, but it was an impressive shot.</span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="b4e28ac8-ea5d-4066-aa48-5d43f1c9794e" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-b4e28ac8-ea5d-4066-aa48-5d43f1c9794e" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Minutes later, he emerged with a new room key. “There’s a convention nearby,” he said, his face still red, “and they needed the larger rooms. It’s apparently how they do things here. But we’re getting the new room for free—and for the rest of the week.”</span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="9994bb7f-22e0-461e-9341-3cf89acc4f15" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-9994bb7f-22e0-461e-9341-3cf89acc4f15" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I looked at my parents as we made our way to the new room, trying to decide from their expressions whether this turn of events was a good thing, or a bad thing. My father suggested we all put on our suits and go for a swim. </span></span></p><p aria-label="Block: Paragraph" aria-multiline="true" aria-readonly="false" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block is-selected wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="fe0d363c-e61d-4ea7-a47f-1982ed991c66" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" data-wp-block-attribute-key="content" id="block-fe0d363c-e61d-4ea7-a47f-1982ed991c66" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“…Welcome to L.A.,” he said. </span></span></p><blockquote>
</blockquote><p> </p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/s589/about+the+author+7.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="70" data-original-width="589" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/w640-h76/about+the+author+7.png" style="border: medium; position: relative;" width="640" /></span></a></p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><p><span style="color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 18px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJdWVLfEBjCcdjjA_vPlkGSJekDqX0AKf3i2YZZ8PRyep78vtP_EQn6yxF1y-ShBfmsmdGmh4c4-OlKHeTQR-ow4gj3PlYBWyIZuYY3lyVucF2D0QYVkLJz7_eEwRB6wuAWKgoELxkHaDfjjVGdXlHzOFdkPDPg-knM0O4J_cgoJlHMZaxQABpAbfMXo/s426/Chris%20Wallace%20author.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAbzV_TfC0VkesXYtGDlaZQp7daJZ1tE4PHqLVCPbnG2muh5Qp4wI52a67o83-AMESDOMAVQ5dBbmj-4bDe3cWkBPAzhRKRzlxPXZQVpOcnIF9sag3aLK9p1rv6l-vmaBS9_koTAbW5zpCpH1bev9bSfMLLR0MX9bJkxu_r5teK1RbvOIXncpEbouOeTM/s640/Steven%20Meloan%20lg%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAbzV_TfC0VkesXYtGDlaZQp7daJZ1tE4PHqLVCPbnG2muh5Qp4wI52a67o83-AMESDOMAVQ5dBbmj-4bDe3cWkBPAzhRKRzlxPXZQVpOcnIF9sag3aLK9p1rv6l-vmaBS9_koTAbW5zpCpH1bev9bSfMLLR0MX9bJkxu_r5teK1RbvOIXncpEbouOeTM/s320/Steven%20Meloan%20lg%201.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Steven Meloan has written for <i>Wired</i>, <i>Rolling Stone</i>, the <i>Huffington Post</i>, <i>Los Angeles</i>, <i>BUZZ</i>, the <i>San Francisco Chronicle</i>, and <i>SF Weekly</i>. His fiction has appeared in <i>SOMA Magazine</i>, the <i>Sonoma Valley Sun</i>,
Lummox Press, Newington Blue Press, and Roadside Press, as well as at
Litquake, Quiet Lightning, Library Girl, and other literary events. His
short fiction collection, <i>St. James Infirmary</i>, was released in 2023 on Roadside Press. He is a recovered software developer, co-author of the novel <i>The Shroud </i>with his brother Michael, and a former busker in London, Paris, and Berlin.<p></p>
<p><b>Author Links </b> <a href="https://twitter.com/StevenMeloan">X (Twitter)</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/stevenmeloan">Facebook</a> | <a href="http://www.instagram.com/slmeloan/">Instagram</a></p></div> <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKSndjMiaMqV9TAmD5qTwfvE0l1lZiMKEQz8fD74xW5gkVydq00Ha3XG_NWddE6mxwO-U6md-lurJysV0BqkLffKs5UPcI_A_7nUjdA0O9YnxD_i3M8UnpsxVA11Uc2sbPeSxS8inpbx9zYn6jK6KNwZki3nNYf17DoIuoBgWapban85ld_Q315lG6DbQ/s640/St.%20James%20Infirmary%20Blog%20Tour%20Ad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKSndjMiaMqV9TAmD5qTwfvE0l1lZiMKEQz8fD74xW5gkVydq00Ha3XG_NWddE6mxwO-U6md-lurJysV0BqkLffKs5UPcI_A_7nUjdA0O9YnxD_i3M8UnpsxVA11Uc2sbPeSxS8inpbx9zYn6jK6KNwZki3nNYf17DoIuoBgWapban85ld_Q315lG6DbQ/s16000/St.%20James%20Infirmary%20Blog%20Tour%20Ad.jpg" /></a></div><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-84776482064865603922024-02-13T21:00:00.000-08:002024-02-13T21:00:00.343-08:00❤Inside the Pages: THE DREAMING TEAM by Chris Wallace #bookspotlight #insidethepages<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7_K8xqzdxpBWJGxQo8uXzpTY-Ytoni1OA94rGFGL3dfXPfrbcFV7YNf5_m8oaLgl_wsNoAVWBbi3AQJm1tvVBRSQHYWwDeH-0C5tNjsVsmavmzPxG3RN7hzEHamRYAjD2aupaXyENZ6iPm003M4VTIOZo5ZHK12QGpZUNDcwmUJFeD3JqlVh9ftdkgz0/s751/The%20Dreaming%20Team%208.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="573" data-original-width="751" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7_K8xqzdxpBWJGxQo8uXzpTY-Ytoni1OA94rGFGL3dfXPfrbcFV7YNf5_m8oaLgl_wsNoAVWBbi3AQJm1tvVBRSQHYWwDeH-0C5tNjsVsmavmzPxG3RN7hzEHamRYAjD2aupaXyENZ6iPm003M4VTIOZo5ZHK12QGpZUNDcwmUJFeD3JqlVh9ftdkgz0/s16000/The%20Dreaming%20Team%208.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><br /><p></p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name"><a href="https://nuttinbutbooks2.blogspot.com/2023/09/inside-pages-hatch-change-your-life.html"></a>
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<p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="78" data-original-width="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOiIC8VCxt8bzfmkixpHy_9lQSbjzwe1aIin2qRPAQMfLvnpCTkQPImuBPMKc-Jcvy3KeEpb0zy6XH5G1OGdfkuOPZh-hVqVGIgrT5avPriJA_aZvNiu92YGwn_fLXz44aRs2iAa9Si8/s1600/inside+the+pages.png" style="border: medium; color: #b81a09; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; position: relative;" /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcdfH9S0kl_okbYD5QpL5Gcb-t_7wBC4yMqoWpKDYWXaCtqYvFv2tcQXterO30HhSoZ7RUJkzyoNtCAXeRyNpkHsEMdl0jgUdbmCpBSoVOYvmLJVf0JtyzW0woFR8r_QWl04YC3c-oSuSF3Y1FcsCZn8DPcA5P2LWr9pfrxFhzNrIrdJRqc9R-UpAZkJM/s532/The%20Dreaming%20Team%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="352" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcdfH9S0kl_okbYD5QpL5Gcb-t_7wBC4yMqoWpKDYWXaCtqYvFv2tcQXterO30HhSoZ7RUJkzyoNtCAXeRyNpkHsEMdl0jgUdbmCpBSoVOYvmLJVf0JtyzW0woFR8r_QWl04YC3c-oSuSF3Y1FcsCZn8DPcA5P2LWr9pfrxFhzNrIrdJRqc9R-UpAZkJM/w265-h400/The%20Dreaming%20Team%20cover.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>Title: THE DREAMING TEAM</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Author: Chris Wallace</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publisher: Round Lake Publishing</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Pages: 368</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Genre: Historical Fiction<br /></span>
<p>
</p><p>In the 1850s, Australia was a thriving colony of the British Empire, with its own sense of importance and sophistication. But the people who had occupied this vast land for upwards of 40,000 years didn’t fit well with colonial expectations of the future. In every way imaginable, white Australia tried to keep its “darkies” in line. It is against this backdrop in the 1860s that the amazing story of an all Aboriginal cricket team, the first Aussie team to do so, played at Lords, the home of cricket in England. Conventional wisdom predicted that Indigenous Australians would die off by the next generation. <strong><em>The Dreaming Team</em></strong> brings those Indigenous players to life and follows them on an adventure that would appear to be unbelievable if it weren’t true. They not only changed the minds and perceptions about Aboriginal Australians, they arguably changed the course of Australian history. Praise for The Dreaming Team: <em>“A beautiful story, beautifully written, about a piece of Australian history that, if you don’t know about, you probably should. Heartwarming, heartbreaking and brimming with relevance for today’s Australia. A poignant example of how far we’ve come and how far we haven’t.”</em> <em>“The Dreaming Team tells the true story of the all Aboriginal cricket team from Victoria who did a tour of Great Britain back in the 1860s and all the drama, setbacks, and cultural divide between the Aboriginals and white Australians involved. Considering the state of affairs for Aboriginal people in those days, the team’s accomplishments are no small feat!”</em> <em>“What an interesting story. It is truly an Australian story about indigenous Australians. The story grabbed me from the first chapter, and drew me further in to where I could not put it down. I don’t want to give anything away, so I will say that the twists and turns makes you want to know what happens next at the end of each chapter. To say it is a sports story is not fair, it is a people story, told from the heart, about the hearts of people who love the land, and their story. I recommend it highly, and look forward to more from the author, Chris Wallace!”</em> You can purchase your copy at <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dreaming-Team-Chris-Wallace/dp/0645968706/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1700139793&sr=1-1">Amazon</a>. <br /></p><p></p></div><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s454/book+excerpt.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="76" data-original-width="454" height="54" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s320/book+excerpt.png" style="border: medium; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></p><p>
</p><p><em>Mr. Buckingham has asked Black Johnny to come into the shearing shed. They stand together, both uncomfortable for different reasons. Unaarrimin wonders if he’s done something wrong. He has always tried to be a good worker. Never complained about anything. Was happy just to be there on the station What could he have done? In the very back of his mind, he wonders if it has anything to do with Alice but dismisses the thought as soon as it comes. Mr. Buckingham is uncomfortable because he doesn’t like confrontation. And especially this one. He is perfectly happy with Black Johnny, finds him easy going, cooperative and good at his job. It’s only because of his wife that he is in this position. After a few more awkward minutes, Buckingham clears his throat and begins. “You know . . . Um . . . You see . . . If it was up to me . . . Well . . . Er . . . The Missus has a bit of ah . . . Oh, damn it, I’m going to have to let you go. That’s the size of it. You’ll have to leave the property. I’ve arranged some provisions for you, tea and sugar, salt, a blanket, a billy, matches, a good knife. But you’ll have to go.” Unaarrimin can only look at this man dumbfounded; this man who has been his guardian since he was orphaned as a little boy. “What have I done?” Unaarrimin asks. “Well, that’s just it, you see. It isn’t that you’ve done anything. It’s more like . . . um . . . look, Johnny, let’s just leave it that the Missus would rather you weren’t here anymore. Like I said, if it was up to me, we wouldn’t be having this talk. But you’ve got to go. Here, take this letter with you. It’ll help you get a job somewhere else. But she wants you off the property tomorrow. Early.”</em></p>
<p>Alice and Unaarrimin had been inseparable when they were children. She claimed him. She taught him to read. As she learned them, she taught him manners. They hiked all over Mullagh Station together. He taught her how to live in the bush, showing her what plants were edible; how to make bread, how to build a proper fire. They got into all manner of mischief together, stealing honey from Mrs. Buckingham’s cupboard and tobacco from Mr. Buckingham’s pouch. One time Unaarrimin twisted his ankle jumping from the roof of the shed because Alice dared him. When they saw that he was alright, they rolled on the ground together in fits of laughter. He remembers how infectious Alice’s laugh is. It’s like a melody, like music to him. He would always do anything to make her laugh. And she always did. One day he was teaching her how to throw a boomerang. “<em>Hold it like this,’ he says. “Throw from the shoulder”. Alice cranks her arm for a mighty toss and cracks Unaarrimin in the nose. She starts laughing her magical laugh. Even when it starts bleeding, she’s still laughing. And by now, he is laughing too. Alice takes a handkerchief from her pocket and begins dabbing the blood. Then she gives it to him so he can apply enough pressure to stop the bleeding. All the while they are laughing uncontrollably.</em></p>
<p>But there is no laughter now. Now, he is filled with sadness as he empties the remains of the billy onto the fire and rolls up his swag. Where is he to go? What is he to do? He ambles away from the billabong, no longer conscious of freedom, but thinking of what he has lost, wondering if he’ll ever see her again. </p>
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</blockquote><p> </p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/s589/about+the+author+7.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="70" data-original-width="589" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/w640-h76/about+the+author+7.png" style="border: medium; position: relative;" width="640" /></span></a></p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><p><span style="color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 18px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJdWVLfEBjCcdjjA_vPlkGSJekDqX0AKf3i2YZZ8PRyep78vtP_EQn6yxF1y-ShBfmsmdGmh4c4-OlKHeTQR-ow4gj3PlYBWyIZuYY3lyVucF2D0QYVkLJz7_eEwRB6wuAWKgoELxkHaDfjjVGdXlHzOFdkPDPg-knM0O4J_cgoJlHMZaxQABpAbfMXo/s426/Chris%20Wallace%20author.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="388" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJdWVLfEBjCcdjjA_vPlkGSJekDqX0AKf3i2YZZ8PRyep78vtP_EQn6yxF1y-ShBfmsmdGmh4c4-OlKHeTQR-ow4gj3PlYBWyIZuYY3lyVucF2D0QYVkLJz7_eEwRB6wuAWKgoELxkHaDfjjVGdXlHzOFdkPDPg-knM0O4J_cgoJlHMZaxQABpAbfMXo/s320/Chris%20Wallace%20author.jpg" width="291" /></a></div>Chris Wallace is a creative resource. As an actor, he was a regular on the hit daytime drama, <strong>All My Children</strong>, created the role of The Half-Percenter in Joe Papp’s production<strong>, Mondongo</strong>, appeared in countless television programs, including <strong>The Incredible Hulk</strong>, <strong>The Mary Tyler Moore Hour</strong> and had a starring role in the holiday horror classic film, <strong>New Year’s Evil</strong>. As a producer, he put on <strong>New York: A Great Place to Live</strong> at Lincoln Center which kicked off New York City’s Diamond Jubilee; for Channel Five in New York, he produced the highly acclaimed <strong>Harlem Cultural Festival</strong>; at the Apollo Theatre in Harlem, he produced <strong>Uptown Sunday Afternoon</strong>, which was hosted by Harry Belafonte and featured Richard Pryor, Bill Withers, and a galaxy of other performers; for the National Organization for Women, he produced <strong>A Valentine’s Day Tribute to Woman</strong> at New York’s Town Hall; was associate producer of the first <strong>Ali-Frazier Heavyweight Championship Fight</strong> at Madison Square Garden, and produced the gigantic block party, hosted by Gwen Verdon, which named West 46th Street as <strong>Restaurant Row</strong>. . He earned the Silver Award at the New York International Film and Television Festival for <strong>In the Balance</strong>, a film that advocated sustainability and common sense in wildlife management. It was also singled out by the Department of the Interior as one of the best films of its kind. Chris wrote, narrated and wrote the musical score for that film. He performed on several children’s television programs in New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Washington D.C. and Jacksonville, singing his original children’s songs. In Hollywood, he performed them for all denominations of Big Brothers and Big Sisters of America. He created a musical, <strong>A Special Thing to Be</strong>, at the Los Angeles Children’s Museum that featured his kids’ songs and the museum’s children’s chorus. He wrote the songs for two children’s theatre productions in Hollywood, <strong>Hooray, Here Comes the Circus</strong> and <strong>Sleeping Beauty</strong>; wrote and performed the songs on <strong>Strong Kids, Safe Kids</strong>, a video produced by Henry Winkler for Paramount that dealt with the protection of children from sexual molestation and exploitation. He created his first musical revue, <strong>Greatest Hits</strong>, in Hollywood, which played several venues, including Carlos ‘n’ Charlie’s on Sunset Strip and The Backlot in West Hollywood. Upon relocating to Australia, he produced <strong>A Helping Hand</strong> at the Victorian Arts Centre, a benefit for Quadriplegic Hand Foundation; wrote book, music and lyrics for <strong>Nothing to Wear</strong>, a musical based on “The Emperor’s New Clothes,” also produced at the Victorian Arts Centre. He created a one-man show, <strong>A Thing of Shreds & Patches</strong>, for the Melbourne Fringe Festival; created another one-man show, <strong>The Mark Twain You Don’t Know</strong>, which toured Australia, then Pacific Palisades, California, and played in New York City on the 100th anniversary of Mark Twain’s death. He created several cabaret shows for The Butterfly Club in Melbourne, most notable of which was <strong>Les Femmes</strong> which featured an all female cast. He wrote, produced and performed in <strong>Huckleberry: A Musical Adventure</strong> which premiered in Melbourne. Which brings us to <strong>The Dreaming Team</strong>. This is his second book. The first, <strong>Hollywood Mosaic</strong> is written under the pen name, Pete Joseph. You can visit his website at <a href="http://www.olentangymusic.com"><strong>www.olentangymusic.com</strong></a>. <br /></div><br /> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbjDTl5EH87xNNZRzFdhI5kF2kZKDedVkiS93jIyJPwFMPNxvvwpareAo4A_NOi1FUypUxNDboztFFopJpVC-hsVYWgbppJwVfPa_TRumMicrg6PNppscW2OGuYH5fRR2hvFw8ENfa3X4D0YhVeCFhBcRKAkxN89tPHajWJ72DvSmsy1XphTzXVVR7e_A/s640/The%20Dreaming%20Team%20blog%20tour.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbjDTl5EH87xNNZRzFdhI5kF2kZKDedVkiS93jIyJPwFMPNxvvwpareAo4A_NOi1FUypUxNDboztFFopJpVC-hsVYWgbppJwVfPa_TRumMicrg6PNppscW2OGuYH5fRR2hvFw8ENfa3X4D0YhVeCFhBcRKAkxN89tPHajWJ72DvSmsy1XphTzXVVR7e_A/s16000/The%20Dreaming%20Team%20blog%20tour.jpg" /></a></div><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-19171522565971078362024-01-30T21:00:00.000-08:002024-01-30T21:00:00.243-08:00❤Author Interview: Novella Author Michael D. Meloan #authorinterview <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDF-W0F9l3rIh9FLxEWawbFuxBKl1JA7jHB7rg7egWyP_d6MU54w5jSDc_L6gkxO299YSPAx2pDhji4xJoULr4HcGYFkV71SURIX5Je5ESrrIPbb-GXreNKrsh-v3rWF-OBWUMBkxcaQoAy_TS0B04XXTQ3A7jPCXkVOUN3nDU5ZlFcPFUr7R_S2M82bA/s800/Pinball%20Wizard%2015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="800" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDF-W0F9l3rIh9FLxEWawbFuxBKl1JA7jHB7rg7egWyP_d6MU54w5jSDc_L6gkxO299YSPAx2pDhji4xJoULr4HcGYFkV71SURIX5Je5ESrrIPbb-GXreNKrsh-v3rWF-OBWUMBkxcaQoAy_TS0B04XXTQ3A7jPCXkVOUN3nDU5ZlFcPFUr7R_S2M82bA/w722-h494/Pinball%20Wizard%2015.jpg" width="722" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><p></p><p></p>
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<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV5xzciN4UdrgBd3-yDpoaXHH38M2cx4ODVaavS4wi-3BvhmPhBN1_V4sPelJqWTMEykg0hEzLbH-G-7Hy_T2USVtdg2y8S-O3FnG6_SnylT93oC8w64HQaFxEAcysnBsp1ouJp5jpbZ22Lj0sIpCJmV9i94abWn0S0OKhn5_SWIQUOK5Xj-3zLRTERe0/s534/Michael%20Meloan%20author.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="351" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV5xzciN4UdrgBd3-yDpoaXHH38M2cx4ODVaavS4wi-3BvhmPhBN1_V4sPelJqWTMEykg0hEzLbH-G-7Hy_T2USVtdg2y8S-O3FnG6_SnylT93oC8w64HQaFxEAcysnBsp1ouJp5jpbZ22Lj0sIpCJmV9i94abWn0S0OKhn5_SWIQUOK5Xj-3zLRTERe0/s320/Michael%20Meloan%20author.png" width="210" /></a></div>Michael
Meloan traveled extensively to England, Germany, and South Korea
supporting the Department of Defense as a software engineer. He met the
real Top Guns at Ramstein, Germany. He also wrote short stories for
Larry Flynt, Buzz, Wired Magazine, and many literary journals. With his
brother, Steven, he penned a published novel called The Shroud. Also
with his brother, he wrote journalism for The Huffington Post.<p></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;">In
the ‘80s and ‘90s, Meloan was friends with Charles Bukowski and his
wife Linda. Bukowski enthusiastically encouraged his writing and invited
him and his wife Cathy to many Hollywood events.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;">Meloan
was also good friends with NPR monologue artist Joe Frank. Their
regular brunches at the Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills were among the
most fascinating encounters of his life. They discussed sexual failure,
the nature of existence, godly realms, and the existential abyss. Meloan
had the privilege of co-writing a number of radio shows with Frank that
appeared on the NPR syndicate. The documentaries</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;">Bukowski: Born into This and Joe Frank: Somewhere Out There both contain interviews with Meloan.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;">Visit the book’s website at <a href="http://www.pinballwizardbook.com">www.pinballwizardbook.com</a>.</span></span></p></div><br /></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-8971611944784384887" itemprop="description articleBody"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QhK2Lx2l19ojhMwANoiqMj9UnJ0lGxlHgzIrtg_F3kBi-wptt9PEGc66L59T0pEfq-tpnjtBLaYRezypzsQEEr-_wD9dlXEReTVhXXMyxgnb3TyZITF69NOI-cM0I33aoFsHRIUKEKM/s1600/interview+7.png" style="color: #b81a09; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="69" data-original-width="335" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QhK2Lx2l19ojhMwANoiqMj9UnJ0lGxlHgzIrtg_F3kBi-wptt9PEGc66L59T0pEfq-tpnjtBLaYRezypzsQEEr-_wD9dlXEReTVhXXMyxgnb3TyZITF69NOI-cM0I33aoFsHRIUKEKM/s320/interview+7.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span>
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</p><p style="text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Your book is a novella. Did you intentionally want to write a novella or is it something that just happened on its own?</span></strong></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">PINBALL WIZARD consists of mostly true tales from a compressed period of my life in the early 1980s. There is a bit of embellishment here and there. So, I chose the moniker—novella.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;"></span></strong></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZ8rfu0lWaiVzcs-N_y5Nd2tVyj32Adry5dZc-bIzEYAJuN85bDVPxbbBsfc61PnaVaN9p6hZpiNZ-5c-ClYbADHq5Uf_389douBrxg0YqEjYsts9r8850oeGcFxoWom-usclWBlATDWKNV_vj4_ciEFx4e-3W6uhPHDwvdM9nClMDygJuhlaefjiIXY/s528/Pinball%20Wizard%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="528" data-original-width="344" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZ8rfu0lWaiVzcs-N_y5Nd2tVyj32Adry5dZc-bIzEYAJuN85bDVPxbbBsfc61PnaVaN9p6hZpiNZ-5c-ClYbADHq5Uf_389douBrxg0YqEjYsts9r8850oeGcFxoWom-usclWBlATDWKNV_vj4_ciEFx4e-3W6uhPHDwvdM9nClMDygJuhlaefjiIXY/w416-h640/Pinball%20Wizard%20cover.jpg" width="416" /></a></span></strong></div><strong><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Can you give us a book blurb so others can find out what your book Is about?</span></strong><p></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">“Are you the Pinball Wizard or the pinball?” asks Ralph Hargraves’ manager inside a nuclear-hardened bunker in England. That is the question driving Michael D. Meloan’s new novella—a story of love, sex, jets, and Bukowski.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">Lights flash, and bells ring as Ralph is buffeted between a controlling father, international intrigue in the US defense industry, and a friendship with the writer Charles Bukowski. A wild girlfriend also ratchets up the action.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">But in the end, it is Ralph’s turn at the controls.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Who exactly is Bukowski?</span></strong></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">Charles Bukowski was a prolific LA-based poet and novelist from the late 1960s to the early 1990s. His work explores life at the bottom end of the economic pyramid—barflies, denizens of the race tracks, the working poor, and of course, women and alcohol. </p>
<p style="text-align: left;">He wrote uninhibitedly about his sex life, delivering a wry sense of humor peppered with genuine bits of wisdom.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Have you written other books? Do you plan on writing more books?</span></strong></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">My brother Steven and I co-wrote a published novel called <em>The Shroud. </em>And I have two new book projects coming soon. The first is a collection of flash memoirs and fiction with photos. These shorts have been well received by my 5,000 Facebook audience members over a period of years. Next, there will be a collection of short stories, including many previously published in magazines.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">How can readers discover more about you and your work?</span></strong></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">There is a PINBALL WIZARD website, including excerpts from the book and information about me.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.pinballwizardbook.com"><strong>www.pinballwizardbook.com</strong></a></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Where can readers buy your book?</span></strong></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">PINBALL WIZARD can be ordered from Amazon.</p>
<div style="text-align: left;"><figure class="wp-block-embed is-type-rich is-provider-amazon wp-block-embed-amazon"><div class="wp-block-embed__wrapper">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Pinball-Wizard-Michael-D-Meloan/dp/1733386483/ref=sr_1_1?crid=Z7EPZEGMZY8N&keywords=pinball+wizard+michael+meloan&qid=1703862969&s=books&sprefix=pinball+wizard+michael+meloan%2Cstripbooks%2C124&sr=1-1 ">https://www.amazon.com/Pinball-Wizard-Michael-D-Meloan/dp/1733386483/ref=sr_1_1?crid=Z7EPZEGMZY8N&keywords=pinball+wizard+michael+meloan&qid=1703862969&s=books&sprefix=pinball+wizard+michael+meloan%2Cstripbooks%2C124&sr=1-1
</a></div></figure></div>
<p style="text-align: left;">It can also be ordered directly from IFSF Publishing.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://www.ifsfpublishing.com/pinball-wizard">https://www.ifsfpublishing.com/pinball-wizard</a></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">And it can be ordered from bookstores across the US.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Thank you very much for taking the time out of your busy schedule to take part in this interview. What is next for you?</span></strong></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">After this interview, I’m going to make a spinach, onion, and Munster cheese omelet.</p>
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-11072999793851776822024-01-23T21:00:00.001-08:002024-01-23T21:00:00.134-08:00❤Inside the Pages: HOMECOMING CHAOS by D.W. Brooks #bookspotlight #insidethepages<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGDl8CLLmX5tDjoay_npxtTj9Fds8qOOHTfcy9Q5nTd8tw5Yln0a925rAHDX4AUl5CKPkpyq7-C2wWBpsmMYeANa_wkUjV1KQnecs1GpxXUoYMpgSbmMR3kPWBX0VnXxMZEhxh1Gohl3glStAqz1Df45slKJqGmnYrSq5lmHifUrog_j_4jZCBpp53_s4/s787/Homecoming%20Chaos%2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="523" data-original-width="787" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGDl8CLLmX5tDjoay_npxtTj9Fds8qOOHTfcy9Q5nTd8tw5Yln0a925rAHDX4AUl5CKPkpyq7-C2wWBpsmMYeANa_wkUjV1KQnecs1GpxXUoYMpgSbmMR3kPWBX0VnXxMZEhxh1Gohl3glStAqz1Df45slKJqGmnYrSq5lmHifUrog_j_4jZCBpp53_s4/s16000/Homecoming%20Chaos%2012.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><br /><p></p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name"><a href="https://nuttinbutbooks2.blogspot.com/2023/09/inside-pages-hatch-change-your-life.html"></a>
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<p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="78" data-original-width="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOiIC8VCxt8bzfmkixpHy_9lQSbjzwe1aIin2qRPAQMfLvnpCTkQPImuBPMKc-Jcvy3KeEpb0zy6XH5G1OGdfkuOPZh-hVqVGIgrT5avPriJA_aZvNiu92YGwn_fLXz44aRs2iAa9Si8/s1600/inside+the+pages.png" style="border: medium; color: #b81a09; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; position: relative;" /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr8uiryzuztmUJCO2lzHH9C5WrBvoWlj1pnJPWLbV0Efufa0XGd0FT3rKc5wXtWu-TM7qvXUwQwVMzHTqw1kZl6aZMIzQnE8HpanAgVGBPr6BsARWwjAhtos3v0m1lcR0LeB9RgSEjP6YsEn2_15aMP6VP3mtVL6Oce8C-UqEPIHMtWgThBFpCPTPtoiU/s598/Homecoming%20Chaos%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="378" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr8uiryzuztmUJCO2lzHH9C5WrBvoWlj1pnJPWLbV0Efufa0XGd0FT3rKc5wXtWu-TM7qvXUwQwVMzHTqw1kZl6aZMIzQnE8HpanAgVGBPr6BsARWwjAhtos3v0m1lcR0LeB9RgSEjP6YsEn2_15aMP6VP3mtVL6Oce8C-UqEPIHMtWgThBFpCPTPtoiU/w253-h400/Homecoming%20Chaos%20cover.jpg" width="253" /></a></div>Title: Homecoming Chaos</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Author: D.W. Brooks</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publisher: Life: The Reboot LLC</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Pages: 448</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Genre: Romantic Suspense | Contemporary African American Fiction<br /></span>
<p>
</p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span>Jamie
Scott’s life fell apart four years ago when she broke off her
engagement, turned down a dream job, and went overseas to run away from
her life. Now she’s back, but the reunion is not without problems. She
arrives home just in time to attend the soiree her mother planned, but
she’s not prepared for what she finds—a dead employee in the parking
lot.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span>Detective
Nick Marshall is assigned to the murder case at the forensics lab owned
by Jamie’s family. He meets the headstrong Jamie, but he has a job to
do. And his attraction to her… well, he’s a professional.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span>Jamie
knows the stakes are high. She has to face the past and save her
parents’ business while dealing with her family drama and an uncertain
future. She also has to deal with Nick, who wants her out of the way of
his investigation. But fate keeps throwing them in one another’s paths…
and into chaos that they both want to avoid, but neither can seem to
escape.</span></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><strong style="font-family: Gabriela;">Buy Links:</strong></span></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span style="font-family: Gabriela;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Homecoming-Chaos-D-W-Brooks-ebook/dp/B0CKS9P7PF"><strong>Amazon</strong></a><strong> | </strong><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/book/1144277742"><strong>B&N</strong></a><strong> | </strong><a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/homecoming-chaos"><strong>Kobo</strong></a><strong> | </strong><a href="https://books.apple.com/us/book/homecoming-chaos/id6469733473"><strong>iBooks</strong></a></span></span></span></p><p></p></div><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s454/book+excerpt.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="76" data-original-width="454" height="54" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s320/book+excerpt.png" style="border: medium; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></p><p>
</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><p>The sound of the flight attendant on the loudspeaker startled Jamison
Jones Scott out of her light sleep. Despite having traveled frequently
in her lifetime, she still couldn’t sleep comfortably on a plane. The
seat location— first-class or economy—didn’t make a difference. The
plane was nearing its destination, so the passengers needed to finish
filling out their declaration cards. Jamie was returning to Atlanta to
stay at her parents’ home with only the clothes on her back, a computer
bag, the few items of clothing in her duffel, and a stethoscope. She had
nothing to declare. </p>
<p>Her seatmate appeared to be sleeping through the announcements. Jamie
was jealous. The four-year-old in front of her turned around and
started babbling excitedly in French. She must have noticed that Jamie
was finally awake. With her head still fuzzy from her nap, Jamie
couldn’t completely follow the child’s rapid words, but the gist was
that she wanted something from Jamie. Something about a playdate? Jamie
smiled at the girl and hoped the girl’s mother would intervene. No such
luck; she was asleep as well. The child eyeballed Jamie expectantly.
Jamie realized she and the seatmate had started this situation by
playing with the dark-haired child while they were over the ocean. Now,
when she didn’t agree to the latest request, the little girl scrunched
up her face to cry. </p>
<p>“Nous atterrissons bientôt. Elle ne peut pas aller avec vous,”
Jamie’s seatmate answered, eyes still closed. “Mais vous pourriez être
en mesure de visiter. Je suis sûr qu’elle tu aimerait garder les
enfants.” He grinned.</p>
<p>Jamie gasped while the young girl clapped. This guy had just volunteered her as a babysitter! </p>
<p>“Je suis désolé, mais il se trompe. Je ne serai pas disponible,”
Jamie stated. “Je parie qu’il a une surprise, pour toi.” The child
looked at Jamie’s seatmate for her present and clapped again. This reply
made him open his eyes. </p>
<p>“Qu’est-ce que c’est? Qu’est-ce que c’est?” the child asked.
Startled, her pregnant mother woke up and turned around in her seat
sheepishly. </p>
<p><em>I’m sorry</em>, she mouthed. She made her eager daughter turn
around in her seat and asked her to leave the other passengers alone.
The girl was disappointed, but her mother handed her a shortbread, which
made her forget the people behind her. </p>
<p>Her seatmate smiled, opened his eyes, and said, “I could have given
her the stuffed bear I bought. I have a daughter the same age.” He
stretched gingerly. “I can’t wait to get home. I’ve been traveling for
too long. What about you? Looking forward to getting home?”</p>
<p>Jamie thought about her return to Atlanta. She hadn’t been home in a while, so she wasn’t sure how she felt. </p>
<p><em>Revel in the chaos. </em></p>
<p><em>Revel in the chaos. </em></p>
<p><em>Revel in the chaos. </em></p>
<p>Jamie tried to live by this motto for most of her life because her
life seemed to invite chaos. She learned to expect—and sometimes
encourage—complications. As the plane taxied to a halt, she repeated her
motto to herself. This phrase, tattooed on her right hip, particularly
applied now. </p>
<p>The international terminal of Hartsfield-Jackson Airport had changed
since she was last there. Her brother, Jonathan, would pick her up at
the baggage claim—alone, she hoped, and not sporting a clingy
girlfriend. Time to re-acclimate and re-establish family bonds. Dealing
with an unknown woman in her face when she wanted to spend time quietly
with her brother wasn’t at the top of her to-do list.</p>
<p>As she waited in line to get through passport control, she thought
about how she got to this point—back in Atlanta after several years
abroad. She had spent two of those years working with the non-profit
organization Doctors Overseas. Jamie worked in several locations,
including the Central African Republic. She had her reasons for joining
the charitable organization; not all were altruistic, and she kept those
to herself during her entrance interview. The horrors she witnessed
overseas helped her put her personal chaos into perspective. She
realized her issues were nothing compared to what people endured in
other parts of the world. This realization allowed her to embrace her
job and enjoy what she was doing, despite the frequent threats of bodily
harm. To help maintain her sanity while overseas, she traveled a lot
and spent six months in Italy working with a designer friend. </p>
<p>The agent summoning her snapped her out of her reverie. Handing over
her passport, she said, “Nothing to declare. Coming back home for my
mother’s birthday and Christmas.” </p>
<p>At the check-in counter, the inspector carefully examined her and her
passport photo. Jamison understood the scrutiny. At the time of that
picture, she had been at the height of her glamor phase with a history
of modeling and a resulting, above-average concern about how she looked.
In medical school, she often showed up at rounds with perfectly coiffed
hair and more than a swipe of mascara and lip gloss. </p>
<p>But in Africa, those concerns fell away. Right now, Jamie was
makeup-free, and a baseball cap covered her hair. She was still
beautiful, but now it was a girl-next-door beauty. Jamie had high
cheekbones, almond-shaped dark brown eyes, a straight nose, a square
jawline, and her golden-brown skin was still smooth. She wasn’t stomping
down runways anymore, as in her past life, because she had shifted her
priorities. </p>
<p>Her mother would hate it. </p>
<p>“Welcome to Atlanta,” the inspector said as she stamped her passport. “Have a pleasant stay.”</p><p></p></div>
</blockquote><p> </p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/s589/about+the+author+7.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="70" data-original-width="589" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/w640-h76/about+the+author+7.png" style="border: medium; position: relative;" width="640" /></span></a></p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><p><span style="color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 18px;"></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;"></span></span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSBPkLrHzRwvJL5TFMINdPYtNsNv3W_MUVcmO_kcpJjyr3jZ55zkVCKMvfVKQi40YGTNMCjr9trPAh5Rg4lAZY6llFTAEx32L8_seJzvr4wiiMKUnnAianUYUG3zXwgCSW6SQy5J0x6Xu05FbA4AONE4iNeOTai4Z_hz6CYpDtN98GjMHT0a0LBVb24Ig/s410/D.W.%20Brooks%20author.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="310" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSBPkLrHzRwvJL5TFMINdPYtNsNv3W_MUVcmO_kcpJjyr3jZ55zkVCKMvfVKQi40YGTNMCjr9trPAh5Rg4lAZY6llFTAEx32L8_seJzvr4wiiMKUnnAianUYUG3zXwgCSW6SQy5J0x6Xu05FbA4AONE4iNeOTai4Z_hz6CYpDtN98GjMHT0a0LBVb24Ig/s320/D.W.%20Brooks%20author.jpg" width="242" /></a></div><br />The
author lives in Texas with her husband and children. She enjoys trying
to stay in shape, sporadically cooking, reading (still), writing, and
working on her blog. She is eternally grateful to the woman who donated a
kidney to her over 5 years ago and continues to advocate for organ
donation as much as she can.<p></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;"><strong>Author Links </strong> </span></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;"><a href="https://authordwbrooks.com">Website</a> | <a href="http://www.twitter.com/lifethereboot">Twitter</a> | <a href="http://www.facebook.com/authordwbrooks">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://instagram.com/authordwbrooks">Instagram</a></span></span></p>
</div><br /><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOuRv5V93KrUtiVti_cLmwFBJtEmmtDsEpzPsTT9fnj2mlrUTlGqSbUeaQ6VCBoSS6Wy_qR0ASPjprYT6dR3KtcxNwLvdNyMoWsIQIKKdL7r2Xs9vsXP_KijCoAKOz0i98OdwSo4B8sWDYQHIuxQClA3a_juxTNCxRbLqi5q4dEG6t7qW0SNREYPhaJJs/s702/Homecoming%20Chaos%208.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="702" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOuRv5V93KrUtiVti_cLmwFBJtEmmtDsEpzPsTT9fnj2mlrUTlGqSbUeaQ6VCBoSS6Wy_qR0ASPjprYT6dR3KtcxNwLvdNyMoWsIQIKKdL7r2Xs9vsXP_KijCoAKOz0i98OdwSo4B8sWDYQHIuxQClA3a_juxTNCxRbLqi5q4dEG6t7qW0SNREYPhaJJs/s16000/Homecoming%20Chaos%208.jpg" /></a></div><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-16358514370502355522024-01-23T21:00:00.000-08:002024-01-23T21:00:00.134-08:00❤Author Interview: 'Going There: Tales from the Riviera and Beyond' Donna Fletcher Crow #travel <p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnlGLbVUorq7uwEQXnhrEtVp0_AQjhmFkTg_uOY48O4LqzOH17X7r79_EVAQOQ7stDlwLnmOCV0naZ7vA6t7OTJcpGALXIP5CT28bvYnbkKH8iO60mpRbWZaKKPGn54zssQemMpzgkBmAg3nMy3pBSKe64w6NZUuTliupFzZ8GZyRmgEOkU23gaq72zps/s793/Going%20There%2010.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="526" data-original-width="793" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnlGLbVUorq7uwEQXnhrEtVp0_AQjhmFkTg_uOY48O4LqzOH17X7r79_EVAQOQ7stDlwLnmOCV0naZ7vA6t7OTJcpGALXIP5CT28bvYnbkKH8iO60mpRbWZaKKPGn54zssQemMpzgkBmAg3nMy3pBSKe64w6NZUuTliupFzZ8GZyRmgEOkU23gaq72zps/s16000/Going%20There%2010.jpg" /></a></p><br /><p></p><p></p>
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<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name"><a href="https://nuttinbutbooks2.blogspot.com/2022/09/author-interview-middle-grade-fantasy.html"></a>
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<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-5620609724707863621" itemprop="description articleBody">
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<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_YlutF6kRRrgLLcrVPg5ICMDwKwiI3d4tgv1yeUzovUv8WQar34_lYOsxs1VunEkhCTRCu_mT8gDOD7vApzJScpVyMYEnPd_TKk1fZ9wb8Uc5q6hmSKDByK0C4fqVFn_W5BdDEXgWsZdrjdR8HFBdOu1sP0S1Fi-cdxHFZENr0xLTmnO3BJ-d7P5b4kk/s610/Donna%20Fletcher%20Crow%20Author.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="610" data-original-width="408" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_YlutF6kRRrgLLcrVPg5ICMDwKwiI3d4tgv1yeUzovUv8WQar34_lYOsxs1VunEkhCTRCu_mT8gDOD7vApzJScpVyMYEnPd_TKk1fZ9wb8Uc5q6hmSKDByK0C4fqVFn_W5BdDEXgWsZdrjdR8HFBdOu1sP0S1Fi-cdxHFZENr0xLTmnO3BJ-d7P5b4kk/s320/Donna%20Fletcher%20Crow%20Author.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Donna
Fletcher Crow, Novelist of British History, is an award-winning author
who has published some 50 books in a career spanning more than 40 years.
Her best-known work is <em>Glastonbury,</em> The Novel of Christian
England, a grail search epic depicting 1500 years of British history.
The Celtic Cross is a 10-book series covering the history of Scotland
and England from the 6th to the 20th century.</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;"> </span></span><p></p>
<p><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Crow
writes 3 mystery series: The Monastery Murders, contemporary clerical
mysteries with clues hidden deep in the past; Lord Danvers Investigates,
Victorian true-crime stories within a fictional setting; and The
Elizabeth and Richard literary suspense series, featuring various
literary figures. Where There is Love is a 6-book biographical novel
series of leaders of the early Evangelical Anglican movement. The
Daughters of Courage is a semi-autobiographical trilogy family saga of
Idaho pioneers.</span></span></span></p>
<p><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Reviewers
routinely praise the quality of her writing and the depth of her
research. Crow says she tries never to write about a place she hasn’t
visited and one of her goals in writing is to give her readers a
you-are-there experience.</span></span></span></p>
<p><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Donna and her husband of 60 years live in Boise, Idaho. They have 4 children and 15 grandchildren, and she is an avid gardener.</span></span></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;"><strong>Author Links </strong> </span></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;"><a href="https://www.donnafletchercrow.com/">Website</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/DonnaFletcherCr">Twitter</a> |<a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100063745772509"> Facebook</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/56147.Donna_Fletcher_Crow">Goodreads</a></span></span></p><p></p><br /></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-8971611944784384887" itemprop="description articleBody"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QhK2Lx2l19ojhMwANoiqMj9UnJ0lGxlHgzIrtg_F3kBi-wptt9PEGc66L59T0pEfq-tpnjtBLaYRezypzsQEEr-_wD9dlXEReTVhXXMyxgnb3TyZITF69NOI-cM0I33aoFsHRIUKEKM/s1600/interview+7.png" style="color: #b81a09; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="69" data-original-width="335" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QhK2Lx2l19ojhMwANoiqMj9UnJ0lGxlHgzIrtg_F3kBi-wptt9PEGc66L59T0pEfq-tpnjtBLaYRezypzsQEEr-_wD9dlXEReTVhXXMyxgnb3TyZITF69NOI-cM0I33aoFsHRIUKEKM/s320/interview+7.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span>
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</p><p><strong>Thanks for stopping by, Donna! What attracted you to the travel memoir genre?</strong></p>
<p>As with my novels, it's almost always the setting that grabs me
first. I didn't at all set out on this journey with an idea of writing a
book, but as we traveled to such amazing places and had such lovely
experiences in the midst of the Covid pandemic, I began to realize how
extraordinary it all was and wanted to share it with my readers. It
seemed to work well to do direct travel memoir to set the scene for the
short stories each place suggested.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDG2PI1ldY7WLM6DJiFu12S8V8lX7iF5dThVNT11OmEud5liBXoCzdI40mno3pQT9-f2ePfT6ItNW6WMDpww3jSigjOLg4rKnhj9y31BPCm2T716_vovWN_DezNB4c2AatlUparMArvLW03MVkP8qkWJJXDTIvBcLO30PmdcedKHG0kRQGpim1kJvpFpk/s595/Going%20There%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="595" data-original-width="388" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDG2PI1ldY7WLM6DJiFu12S8V8lX7iF5dThVNT11OmEud5liBXoCzdI40mno3pQT9-f2ePfT6ItNW6WMDpww3jSigjOLg4rKnhj9y31BPCm2T716_vovWN_DezNB4c2AatlUparMArvLW03MVkP8qkWJJXDTIvBcLO30PmdcedKHG0kRQGpim1kJvpFpk/w418-h640/Going%20There%20cover.jpg" width="418" /></a></div><br />And then, there was the fun of exploring a new genre after 40+ years of writing.<p></p>
<p><strong>In your book, </strong><strong><em>Going There: Tales From the Riviera and Beyond</em></strong><strong>, was there a particular story that just grabbed at your heart more than the others?</strong></p>
<p>My stories are rather like my children--my favorite is always the one
I'm with at the moment. The two with a fantasy element: "The Ghost boy"
and "Worlds Converge" were perhaps the most fun to write because
imaginary literature is a somewhat new genre for me.<br /></p>
<p><strong>Do you write in any other genres?</strong></p>
<p>I am best known as a novelist, especially of British history and
mystery, usually with a dollop of romance. I have also written plays and
a few other short stories. I admire writers who can develop a series
and stay with it for many years, but I enjoy variety in my writing and
my reading.</p>
<p><strong>Can you give us your book blurb so others can find out what your book is about?</strong></p>
<p>In the summer of 2021 amidst a world-wide pandemic, Donna Fletcher
Crow, her daughter-in-law, and granddaughter managed to slip through a
narrow window of calm for a remarkable journey to France and
Switzerland. And much to Donna’s surprise and delight, she was
accompanied on the undertaking by characters from several of her novel
series—who had adventures of their own.</p>
<p><em>Going There</em>, Tales from the Riviera and Beyond, is an
account of a memorable travel experience in the real world and the
fictional. It takes the reader to places physical and imaginary, and
like all good books, expands our universe.</p>
<p><strong>How can readers discover more about you and your work?</strong></p>
<p>I welcome readers to visit my <a href="https://www.donnafletchercrow.com/">website</a>
where they can find all my books, see photos from my research albums
and my garden, and subscribe to my newsletter. Those who choose to
subscribe will receive a free book from my Lord Danvers Investigates
Victorian True-crime series.</p>
<p>Readers can also follow me on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100063745772509">Facebook</a> or visit my <a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donna-Fletcher-Crow/author/B000APWGI4?ref=ap_rdr&store_ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true">Amazon Author's page</a>.</p>
<p><strong>Where can readers buy your book?</strong></p>
<p>All editions of<em> Going There</em>, Tales from the Riviera and Beyond, are available on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Going-There-Tales-Riviera-Beyond-ebook/dp/B0CPHBRVJH/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2FOPQMEFK28AY&keywords=going+there+crow&qid=1703730609&s=books&sprefix=going+there+%2Cstripbooks%2C752&sr=1-1">Amazon</a>.
Please note that the Kindle edition is full color, the paperback is
black and white, and the special hardback gift edition is full color, so
there are plenty of choices.</p>
<p><strong>Thank you very much for taking the time out of your busy schedule to take part in this interview. What’s next for you?</strong></p>
<p>It's been a joy to be here, thank you for giving me a chance to visit with your readers. </p>
<p>My next project is a story I have been wanting to tell since I visited the Hebrides Islands in 2001. It will be #7 in my <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0753GJJLY?binding=kindle_edition&searchxofy=true&ref_=dbs_s_bs_series_rwt_tkin&qid=1703730952&sr=1-1">Monastery Murders series</a>, titled <em>A Wind in the Hebrides</em>--hopefully out in November, 2024.</p><p>
</p><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS5_3sPMdTiv1czYiaU2TbJibIsAKTyXbycw3Kz0aZ79rgbfZDKbZoc7Z4Kt0m_CKSZth53XGavSmXrs6ug4v6Vcr8QH_Ty0vXo3Ab9Drt-qf9Wv79Vnt8lcMQE2h2Jteykz8IEm-zWf7C9nsb1acQX8EJvBiw6dNPgYpMHPpG63WPn6HlBs6pGZLyaeI/s640/book%20transp.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="640" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS5_3sPMdTiv1czYiaU2TbJibIsAKTyXbycw3Kz0aZ79rgbfZDKbZoc7Z4Kt0m_CKSZth53XGavSmXrs6ug4v6Vcr8QH_Ty0vXo3Ab9Drt-qf9Wv79Vnt8lcMQE2h2Jteykz8IEm-zWf7C9nsb1acQX8EJvBiw6dNPgYpMHPpG63WPn6HlBs6pGZLyaeI/s320/book%20transp.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-86275102131594270692024-01-11T06:22:00.000-08:002024-01-11T06:23:37.109-08:00❤Inside the Pages: ECHOES OF A VOICE FOR JUSTICE by Anita Hackley Lambert #bookspotlight #insidethepages<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFqYcFtXl3E_mByEilBdUr0HM3SJW6kDHxhYxVy1xyGByPyBS1W4SjPIHqZkoW4gSdoJgKJ3rQrmmYkR5fyA4_Ww6H-7SCFndTYUUUuGO6fWq03KzEvxTD4SMmhKUkzJoi1eHP7sstW513y917OqVf28fsLEDd2LgikInJowZlgAp4ePrsCYFhaW_XGx4/s844/Echoes%20of%20a%20Voice%20for%20Justice%2010.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="844" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFqYcFtXl3E_mByEilBdUr0HM3SJW6kDHxhYxVy1xyGByPyBS1W4SjPIHqZkoW4gSdoJgKJ3rQrmmYkR5fyA4_Ww6H-7SCFndTYUUUuGO6fWq03KzEvxTD4SMmhKUkzJoi1eHP7sstW513y917OqVf28fsLEDd2LgikInJowZlgAp4ePrsCYFhaW_XGx4/w731-h460/Echoes%20of%20a%20Voice%20for%20Justice%2010.jpg" width="731" /></a></div><br /><p></p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name"><a href="https://nuttinbutbooks2.blogspot.com/2023/09/inside-pages-hatch-change-your-life.html"></a>
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<p></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="78" data-original-width="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOiIC8VCxt8bzfmkixpHy_9lQSbjzwe1aIin2qRPAQMfLvnpCTkQPImuBPMKc-Jcvy3KeEpb0zy6XH5G1OGdfkuOPZh-hVqVGIgrT5avPriJA_aZvNiu92YGwn_fLXz44aRs2iAa9Si8/s1600/inside+the+pages.png" style="border: medium; color: #b81a09; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; position: relative;" /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNWM5E47vBm-kWpOYugZToZlGd2M2WfN07i50VnwwVL8EUwvAyKXMXCFo_lv71q7JLCyKc6X6MChb3Kq79__Eg42ifjxBzfdR4DERZuY20cbOIZrTJ3m7YW5KJ_as09BowaHNEeiqrDMS1wPaf2t4J6nWJH0TKEqM1Pf5d-uTTSAkvbu25S_ZcjndmLuM/s582/Echoes%20of%20a%20Voice%20for%20Justice%20cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="582" data-original-width="401" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNWM5E47vBm-kWpOYugZToZlGd2M2WfN07i50VnwwVL8EUwvAyKXMXCFo_lv71q7JLCyKc6X6MChb3Kq79__Eg42ifjxBzfdR4DERZuY20cbOIZrTJ3m7YW5KJ_as09BowaHNEeiqrDMS1wPaf2t4J6nWJH0TKEqM1Pf5d-uTTSAkvbu25S_ZcjndmLuM/s320/Echoes%20of%20a%20Voice%20for%20Justice%20cover.jpg" width="220" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">Title: Echoes of a Voice for Justice: The Story of Barry A. Murray</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Author: Anita Hackley Lambert</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publisher: HLE Publishing</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Pages: 296</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Genre: Historical Biography<br /></span><p></p>
<p>
</p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;">Experience
the extraordinary life of Barry Antonio Murray, an unwavering champion
for the progressive Black movement of the post-Reconstruction era. Ms.
Lambert masterfully tells the riveting tale of this unsung civil rights
activist, influential publisher, and uncompromising editor in this
historic biography. Uncovering a 50-year-old family secret, Ms.
Lambert’s captivating narrative begins at her book's debut, where chance
encounters forever altered her life. Delve into Barry Murray’s legacy,
his ties to F.H.M. Murray, a civil rights trailblazer and the
great-grandfather he never knew—yet, walked in his shoes. Readers gain
insights into the nation’s racial divide and witness the heart-wrenching
conclusion and his questionable sudden death. This captivating
biography sheds light on Barry’s remarkable journey, celebrating his
unwavering activism, pursuit of justice, and empowerment of the
community. This saga intertwines history, personal struggles, and family
secrets, leaving an indelible mark on readers, showcasing the
indomitable spirit of one man’s triumphs and divine destiny.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;"><i>“Barry
was one of those Black people who was loyal to his belief in the need
to sacrifice for full Black freedom. People like him often make great
sacrifices but do not benefit from their sacrifices. He never got
rewarded by the community for his service to the community – most never
do. If we all lived as Barry did we would be free.” -- </i><b><i>Wayne Young, Editor of Port of Harlem Magazine</i></b></span></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="font-family: Gabriela;">Buy Link:</b></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://amzn.to/3T8UDka" style="font-family: Gabriela;"><b>Amazon</b></a></span></p><p></p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s454/book+excerpt.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="76" data-original-width="454" height="54" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s320/book+excerpt.png" style="border: medium; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></p><p></p><p>
</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><blockquote><p>
</p>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<h2 class="wp-block-heading"><i>Prologue</i></h2>
<h1 class="wp-block-heading"><b>Echoes of a Divine Encounter</b></h1>
<p>God blessed me, then set me up to bless me again. </p>
<p>Call it an omen if you like. I know better. It was a clear
demonstration of God's favor in my life, as He has always been present.
In His infinite wisdom, the Holy Spirit sent a message to my spirit,
assuring me that great things would transpire once my book, <i>F.H.M. Murray: First Biography of a Forgotten Pioneer for Civil Justice</i> was released. Little did I know how astonishingly accurate that message would prove to be. </p>
<p>As a first-time author entering the arena of Pulitzer Prize-winning
authors, the journey behind the creation of this book is remarkable in
itself. Allow me to indulge in a few eventful affirmations leading to
this book.</p>
<p>Revelation At Harpers Ferry</p>
<p><b>DAY 1</b>. Over three remarkable days, I experienced an
extraordinary blessing. The journey began with a captivating audience of
history enthusiasts eagerly awaiting the scholarly presentation of my
book. Hosting the event was none other than the talented actor and
orator, Fred Morsel, adding an extra layer of prestige to the occasion.</p>
<p><b>DAY 2</b>. The second day brought an unforgettable
collaboration as I joined forces with the esteemed Dr. Henry Lewis
Gates. Together, he and our volunteer group embarked on a historical
reenactment that transported us back in time, allowing us to breathe
life into the past. The experience was nothing short of awe-inspiring.</p>
<p><b>DAY 3</b>. As the event's third and final day unfolded,
it delivered an exceptional finale that surpassed all expectations.
Amidst a captivating photo shoot, I had the incredible honor of meeting
the Pulitzer Prize-winning author and esteemed historian, David Levering
Lewis. His approval of my book was a momentous validation, solidifying
its significance in the literary world. Furthermore, I had the pleasure
of engaging with readers and selling and signing copies of my book--an
experience that felt like a dream come true for a first-time author.</p>
<p>But the wonders did not end there. On this very same day, I had the
privilege of capturing memories alongside the illustrious Dr. DuBois
Irving, the great-granddaughter of the legendary W.E.B. DuBois, as well
as Reverend Walter Fauntroy. It was a surreal convergence of influential
figures embodying the legacy and impact of the subject I had delved
into within my book.</p>
<p>In retrospect, I realized how mistaken I was to believe that the day
couldn't get any better. This trifecta of days had become the pinnacle
of a first-time author's aspirations, a once-in-a-lifetime culmination
of success, connections, and reflective experiences. It was an
unforgettable chapter in my life, ever etched in my memory.</p>
<p>The true purpose behind our fateful meeting that day in Harpers
Ferry, West Virginia became crystal clear, and its significance can
never be underestimated. It felt as if the forces of destiny were at
work, orchestrating every detail. Joan Anderson and her daughter Kelly
had embarked on a journey with a singular objective in mind: to find me
and engage in a discussion. Their presence was no mere coincidence; they
sought me out with a determination reminiscent of an eagle's relentless
pursuit of its prey.</p>
<p>As they made their way across the paved courtyard towards me, I
immediately sensed an air of urgency and purpose. Joan, with a
noticeable limp and relying on a cane for support, locked eyes with me.
The tremor in her voice betrayed her emotional state as she began to
speak. What she revealed next left me utterly stunned. "My son, Barry,
has been a closely guarded family secret for half a century," she
confessed. Her words hung heavy in the air. "He is none other than
F.H.M. Murray's great-grandson. He shares a bloodline with you."</p>
<p>Sensing the watchful eyes of curious onlookers, Joan guided me away
from the crowd, creating a cocoon of privacy amidst the bustling
celebration. She revealed that other family members were in attendance,
yet she chose to trust me, a stranger, with her most painful secret. As
she spoke, her words carried a weight of sincere love and immeasurable
loss. It was palpable how deeply she cherished her son and the
devastation she felt in his absence. </p>
<p>The burden she had carried for so long was finally lifted, and she entrusted it to me, a confidant she had only just met.</p>
<p>In that moment, the weight of generations converged, extraordinarily
intertwining our lives. The revelation brought forth a deep sense of
connection as if a hidden mystery of familial ties had been unveiled.
Our encounter was far more than a chance meeting—it was a cosmic
convergence guided by an unseen hand. It was as if the universe itself
conspired to bring us together, weaving together our shared heritage and
the legacy of our ancestors.</p>
<p>I sat in awe as Joan continued to unveil the depths of her long-held
secret, her words flowing uninterrupted. It was as if she bore the
weight of this revelation for years, and now she was resolute in her
purpose. There was a certainty in her voice, an insightful understanding
of the task before her. With a firm determination, she looked directly
into my eyes as if she could anticipate my very thoughts.</p>
<p>You have been chosen," she declared, her gaze piercing into the depths of my soul, "to write Barry's story."</p>
<p>At that moment, the weight of responsibility and privilege
intertwined. For over fifty years, the truth about Freeman Murray's
audacious fight for African-Americans had remained buried, neglected by
historians and authors who failed to uncover his significant
contributions. Yet, she believed that I, and only I, possessed the
ability to breathe life into Barry's legacy, to connect him to his
Murray lineage, and to share his untold journey with the world. Joan was
adamant, unyielding in her conviction that it was my divine purpose to
write Barry's biography.</p>
<p>An inexplicable connection enveloped us instantaneously as if the
threads of fate had bound our lives together across the ages. It felt as
though I had stumbled upon the long-lost sister I had conjured in my
childhood fantasies. Joan articulated that our bond symbolized her
"freedom," a newfound purpose that propelled her forward. As I grappled
with the weight of this extraordinary opportunity, I contemplated
whether I dared embrace an encounter that would bind me by an
unbreakable oath while simultaneously liberating her.</p>
<p>Though cognizant of the commitment that awaited me, I recognized it
as a remarkable honor to undertake. The magnitude of this chance was too
extraordinary to overlook. It held the promise of a cherished
friendship, a sisterhood forged in the depths of shared secrets, a bond
of cousinhood, and the revelation of a hidden familial legacy. Moreover,
it presented an unparalleled opportunity to craft yet another
captivating book, exceeding my wildest aspirations. The first book had
merely set the stage, but this authorized biography, bestowed upon me
like precious rubies, was a treasure of immeasurable worth. It came
accompanied by invaluable documentation, slashing through the dense
thicket of research and providing a shortcut to truth.</p>
</div><p></p><p></p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/s589/about+the+author+7.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="70" data-original-width="589" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/w640-h76/about+the+author+7.png" style="border: medium; position: relative;" width="640" /></span></a></p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><p><span style="color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 18px;"></span></p>
<p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmbf1Q12G_YEU5VTXouqZV9YZ997M9SPyvFsI3fxzeZbLfueQG0sZy_mD0SAezKHh66NrHBIyj7NXAwzuhqWl7E_Yoz1JrIBR8XDviCyJcJVNQpVqFpeD-TicUjCx7KcOak70tF9iKKf0YNuCK3PBmIoZyLNtwWgdv1LF_4xaY9LXV7XPAgBqZbaaIR7w/s413/Anita%20Hackley%20Lambert%20author.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="410" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmbf1Q12G_YEU5VTXouqZV9YZ997M9SPyvFsI3fxzeZbLfueQG0sZy_mD0SAezKHh66NrHBIyj7NXAwzuhqWl7E_Yoz1JrIBR8XDviCyJcJVNQpVqFpeD-TicUjCx7KcOak70tF9iKKf0YNuCK3PBmIoZyLNtwWgdv1LF_4xaY9LXV7XPAgBqZbaaIR7w/s320/Anita%20Hackley%20Lambert%20author.png" width="318" /></a></div>Ms.
Lambert, a distinguished genealogist, historian, and biographer,
achieved historical acclaim with her inaugural book, praised by
luminaries such as Pulitzer Prize-winner David Levering Lewis and
historian Charles Patterson. As an unrivaled familial authority, she
penned insightful biographies of visionary businessmen and civil rights
champions F.H.M. Murray and Barry A. Murray. Nestled in the Appalachian
Mountains of West Virginia with her husband, Ms. Lambert continues her
literary journey, poised to add two more captivating biographies and
contribute to a quartet of nonfiction gems, that showcases her
unwavering commitment to illuminating the human experience.<p></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;"><b>Author Links </b> </span></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela;"><a href="http://www.anitahackleylambert.com">Website</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/AnitaLambe49625/">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/people/Anita-Hackley-Lambert-Author/61552071992665/">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://www.instagram.com/anitahackleylambertauthor/">Instagram</a> | <a href="https://www.googlereads.com/author/show/718627.Anita_Hackley_Lambert">Goodreads</a> | <a href="https://linkedin.con/in/anita-hackley-lambert-148021a/">LinkedIn</a></span></span></p></div><br /><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv6w-ppKnr78drTynaQyi8A7N080JkZXDEg96lwccegqkAVKSmTeDvCTjaJb4xI5gbZxX5cAS-GWpneOWP8O3LDfzhaz81yF6_bja2osNyNmHjPYmZxfK823WKcGBO9KT4KhQpavEBHqsyn9Pg5peJbVas5R1k9lQR4XYtdz04qW1QA3aTmefRJoxGoWg/s555/Echoes%20of%20a%20Voice%20for%20Justice%2011.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv6w-ppKnr78drTynaQyi8A7N080JkZXDEg96lwccegqkAVKSmTeDvCTjaJb4xI5gbZxX5cAS-GWpneOWP8O3LDfzhaz81yF6_bja2osNyNmHjPYmZxfK823WKcGBO9KT4KhQpavEBHqsyn9Pg5peJbVas5R1k9lQR4XYtdz04qW1QA3aTmefRJoxGoWg/s16000/Echoes%20of%20a%20Voice%20for%20Justice%2011.jpg" /></a></div><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-77583504927372060442024-01-08T21:00:00.000-08:002024-01-08T21:00:00.128-08:00❤Inside the Pages: SUNNY'S SECRETS by Robin Jay #bookspotlight #insidethepages<p> </p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name"><a href="https://nuttinbutbooks2.blogspot.com/2023/09/inside-pages-hatch-change-your-life.html"></a>
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<p></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="78" data-original-width="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOiIC8VCxt8bzfmkixpHy_9lQSbjzwe1aIin2qRPAQMfLvnpCTkQPImuBPMKc-Jcvy3KeEpb0zy6XH5G1OGdfkuOPZh-hVqVGIgrT5avPriJA_aZvNiu92YGwn_fLXz44aRs2iAa9Si8/s1600/inside+the+pages.png" style="border: medium; color: #b81a09; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; position: relative;" /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnmmLf4V5x14N9Iw1seUQGzYoP6US4NB74ZiMZiOqORUDBznw0Wr2wblRFWniHCv-396AnNQkn3wKHIO7rclJXDORHQjd58FKXpQX92nQtOJxeQKLXkRn4JUMpTo-jShwK9V2620z3BXjkwDyRDpoo5JACpjPGz_5Gmz0fnRBTgFFP6qA5FjNHtUHsMQ/s598/Sunny's%20Secrets%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="378" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnmmLf4V5x14N9Iw1seUQGzYoP6US4NB74ZiMZiOqORUDBznw0Wr2wblRFWniHCv-396AnNQkn3wKHIO7rclJXDORHQjd58FKXpQX92nQtOJxeQKLXkRn4JUMpTo-jShwK9V2620z3BXjkwDyRDpoo5JACpjPGz_5Gmz0fnRBTgFFP6qA5FjNHtUHsMQ/w239-h378/Sunny's%20Secrets%20cover.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>Title: Sunny's Secrets</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Author: Robin Jay</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publisher: Robin Jay LLC</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publication Date: July 6, 2023</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Pages: 378</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Genre: Psychological Suspense<br /></span><p></p>
<p>
</p><p>A suicide bomber changed Sunny’s life forever. A nurse from a military family, she finds herself devastated and alone. At her husband’s funeral, she’s approached by a mysterious Indian doctor, Rohan Ray, who shows her how to switch Life Force Energy between two people – those who are about to end their lives and patients who would give anything to live another day. Playing with fate is not for the faint of heart. Will the crushing responsibility be too much for Sunny to bear?</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Buy Link:</strong></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C9S9CDRZ"><strong>Amazon</strong></a></p>
<p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s454/book+excerpt.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="76" data-original-width="454" height="54" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s320/book+excerpt.png" style="border: medium; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></p><p></p><p>
</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><blockquote><p>
</p><h2 class="wp-block-heading"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Finally, Tuesday had come and it was time for John to leave. Sunny had taken the day off so she could drive him to the base and say goodbye. They almost made it through their goodbyes without breaking down. Sunny apologized for being emotional. She hadn’t wanted to cry, but she loved him so much she couldn’t help herself.</span></span></h2>
<p>“Even one day without you is more than I can stand,” she said, huge tears spilling out of her eyes. </p>
<p>John wiped them away and kissed her cheeks. He’d never loved her more than when she was declaring her love for him. That vulnerability in this otherwise strong woman melted his heart. For a moment, it was as if his life was flashing before his eyes. He saw her as his angel in the hospital where they’d met, his bride coming down the aisle to marry him, and a quick collage of images of her since they’d been married. </p>
<p>He soon had tears welling up in his own eyes. He promised he’d always be there for her, <em>no matter what</em>. She forced herself to believe him. They kissed, then kissed again. He didn’t pull away one minute before he absolutely had to.</p>
<p>“I love you with all my heart, Sunny. You are the very best thing that has ever happened to me. You make my life worth living, and I can’t imagine not being able to share it with you. Our love has been the greatest blessing God could have ever given me. I love you, angel. You’ll be okay.” He took both her hands in his own and kissed them. “Call Roger and Jen if you need anything. I’ll see you soon.” </p>
<p>And with one final, deep kiss that would have to last her for the rest of her life, he ran to get on the transport plane. </p>
<p>Roger was at the base when John left. He had started to join them to say goodbye to his best friend, but when he got close to them, he saw the couple was having a special moment, so he hung back. After John boarded his flight, Roger approached Sunny.</p>
<p>“Sunny, please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything, <em>anything at all! </em>Jen and I are here for you,” he assured her. “We’ll have fun. In fact, plan on coming to our house for dinner Friday night, okay?” She nodded and gave him a hug. She felt a little better for a moment, talking with Roger. Still, she cried all the way home.</p>
<p>Once home, Sunny immediately sensed how empty the house felt. She caught herself thinking about all the little things that she and John had been through together. If she’d been able to see the memories flashing in John’s mind as he was saying goodbye to her, she wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see that they were the very same images that she had seen in that same moment, only from her perspective. They included him proposing to her in the hospital as he recovered from the critical car wreck that nearly killed him, seeing him waiting for her as she walked down the aisle at their wedding, and countless images of them together, moments that showed how madly in love they were with each other. </p>
<p>It wasn’t long enough. Then again, she realized, a few hundred years with John wouldn’t be enough time for them to express their love for each other.</p>
<p>Sunny plopped down in the big, comfortable chair and thought about what they might be doing now if John was home. She had a great imagination and loved to entertain thoughts of conversations, lovemaking, and even just the quiet times they’d spend at home together.</p>
<p>Her thoughts drifted to John’s deployment to Afghanistan, and how it felt different to her. She wasn’t just afraid. This time, she had a deep, uneasy feeling that he wasn’t going to come back. She tried to quiet the negative thoughts.</p>
<p>Sunny had always been intuitive. In fact, her intuition was a gift she used with her patients. As a nurse, she’d helped countless people when they couldn’t quite explain what was going on in their bodies or where their pain was coming from. Her intuition told her what questions to ask, and their answers would help her zero in on whatever was causing their issues. Whenever she made a suggestion to the doctors, they were always amazed that she was one step ahead of them. Over the years, she’d grown to trust her intuition. Now, she wished it wasn’t so keen.</p>
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</blockquote><p> </p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/s589/about+the+author+7.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="70" data-original-width="589" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/w640-h76/about+the+author+7.png" style="border: medium; position: relative;" width="640" /></span></a></p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><p><span style="color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 18px;"></span></p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQk1haJTjux5GiZtdMvUfD-xkPxp9ty-pv7NO5pDl2iwcu1AW4qOqMPqxiarFELMc6Mu-6vj9Be8SBPOE5GAzE5j-GLu5k5l31sRDUqxS12Kwa9q5ixuPniUjM2AA-IUcGoQkkTzB45oyY9jrDmf7LK09dLCs1mbLkygR_xrIsuSd3Rp70oDUzRgv55-A/s529/Robin%20Jay%20author.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="529" data-original-width="368" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQk1haJTjux5GiZtdMvUfD-xkPxp9ty-pv7NO5pDl2iwcu1AW4qOqMPqxiarFELMc6Mu-6vj9Be8SBPOE5GAzE5j-GLu5k5l31sRDUqxS12Kwa9q5ixuPniUjM2AA-IUcGoQkkTzB45oyY9jrDmf7LK09dLCs1mbLkygR_xrIsuSd3Rp70oDUzRgv55-A/s320/Robin%20Jay%20author.jpg" width="223" /></a></div>Robin Jay is an award-winning filmmaker and author, speaker, and publisher. She is also a Business Relationship Expert who shares the nuts and bolts of building profitable business relationships with an emphasis on smart ways to network and socialize with clients.<p></p>
<p>Her clients tagged her <strong>“The Queen of the Business Lunch™”. </strong> Robin personally hosted more than 3,000 client lunches and saw her sales increase by more than 2,000%! Her sense of humor and candid approach to sharing the principles that helped her to achieve such tremendous success as an Advertising Account Executive in Las Vegas, Nevada, helped to make her first book an international success. Robin’s award-winning business book is <strong>“The Art of the Business Lunch ~ Building Relationships Between 12 and 2”</strong> (Career Press.) It has been published in twelve languages worldwide. She’s also a contributor to <strong>“Chicken Soup for the Wine Lover’s Soul.”</strong> She’s been featured internationally on <strong>MSNBC-TV</strong>, <strong>Newsweek Magazine, CNN, the BBC,</strong> <strong>the New York Times, The London Financial Times, Forbes.com, </strong>and other international and national media outlets.</p>
<p>In 2006, Robin founded the <strong>Las Vegas Convention Speakers Bureau.</strong> As president, she manages the bureau and coaches speakers to success in person and online. She especially enjoys the cache the bureau lends to create and publish intellectual properties. She edited and published <strong>“The Power of the Platform,” </strong>a series of three anthologies that feature messages from today’s top motivational speakers, including <strong>Jack Canfield, Brian Tracy, </strong>and<strong> Les Brown</strong>. </p>
<p>Robin’s passion for storytelling has evolved to presenting messages of empowerment and inspiration in films as writer, producer, and costar of the first funny personal development movies. Her films are collectively known as “The Key Movies.” (see TheKeyMovies.com.) The films star many of today’s top personal development experts, including <strong>Jack Canfield, Brian Tracy, don Miguel Ruiz, Rev. Michael Beckwith, John Assaraf, </strong>and<strong> John Gray</strong>. Robin’s writer/producer awards include Best Independent Film, Best Documentary, Best Concept, and Best Original Song for the soundtrack song, “Stronger than Ever.”</p>
<p>Robin took advantage of the recent lockdown to pivot and write her first novel, “Sunny’s Secrets,” a Psychological Suspense story. It follows the life of Sunny Sullivan, a nurse with a special, unorthodox method of healing people.</p>
<p>Most recently, Robin coauthored a memoir with reality TV star Tana Goertz. Robin’s expanded social media reach, including book and movie experts, speakers, and colleagues, has well over 100,000 followers.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Author Links </strong> </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.robinjay.com">Website</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/TheKEYmovies">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/robinjay/">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://www.instagram.com/robinjaylv/">Instagram</a> | <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/robinjay/">LinkedIn</a></p>
</div><br /><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-6112574769261463556" itemprop="description articleBody"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVde_EAGoicqpID1YosZFXg1BIHwZDbkABlQwrVTTCWsTa2DVDhMXXe6ZzNBx3nWoDBbg3rByyt8YdedhtJKhSexS08qatgxmBDOcmtOVEZrhweoWv1l_1rJ-vpkg4zF58FCZJdeG9Mdc4ucVw-jOTD222mhu6q7-pJlv0mtWlMKtMlcz24LJyDxgGziE/s1191/Sunny's%20Secrets%20award.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1045" data-original-width="1191" height="607" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVde_EAGoicqpID1YosZFXg1BIHwZDbkABlQwrVTTCWsTa2DVDhMXXe6ZzNBx3nWoDBbg3rByyt8YdedhtJKhSexS08qatgxmBDOcmtOVEZrhweoWv1l_1rJ-vpkg4zF58FCZJdeG9Mdc4ucVw-jOTD222mhu6q7-pJlv0mtWlMKtMlcz24LJyDxgGziE/w691-h607/Sunny's%20Secrets%20award.png" width="691" /></a></div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-64145364542339457392024-01-02T21:00:00.000-08:002024-01-02T21:00:00.142-08:00Book Trailer Feature: Stonebridge by Linda Griffin #Stonebridge #booktrailer<p style="text-align: center;"> <iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="415" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/bHrQioFgsEo?si=RNgzYpRWeDrddxYW" title="YouTube video player" width="700"></iframe></p><div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijB56ivg-oPE5b6K7umMM97WfNPsLTIkT0aHGDrwkHSEDvW9M6Y155hrUzWEOl4000CtAQSWMLg5YOa8YpkUK-WEfSMB2QJgy9ofH2GuF0q33T6r75fzNbwgj5emK1VkcSHBHxfrZHHow/s1600/The+Road+to+Delano+about+the+book.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="93" data-original-width="353" height="84" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijB56ivg-oPE5b6K7umMM97WfNPsLTIkT0aHGDrwkHSEDvW9M6Y155hrUzWEOl4000CtAQSWMLg5YOa8YpkUK-WEfSMB2QJgy9ofH2GuF0q33T6r75fzNbwgj5emK1VkcSHBHxfrZHHow/s320/The+Road+to+Delano+about+the+book.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPMoRTy-tjEh55K9V587HvNp-YaSiFYLdAJ6RzpD3Tlek7w3dW4LWhQriXfv8vN7jzZBcCH-L2P0BgsWDxv_3H2FUMRb_L4lZ7biz3IoWHs00vsIDNU42OEfH0yKdxXVdLRb6N538Q2IgTZG2poCLtmG0LdxjI4hMPdQZx5Jo_ZH0k6k1XFeDiMfS-cHY/s617/Stone%20Bridge%20cover.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="617" data-original-width="415" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPMoRTy-tjEh55K9V587HvNp-YaSiFYLdAJ6RzpD3Tlek7w3dW4LWhQriXfv8vN7jzZBcCH-L2P0BgsWDxv_3H2FUMRb_L4lZ7biz3IoWHs00vsIDNU42OEfH0yKdxXVdLRb6N538Q2IgTZG2poCLtmG0LdxjI4hMPdQZx5Jo_ZH0k6k1XFeDiMfS-cHY/w430-h640/Stone%20Bridge%20cover.jpg" width="430" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Title: Stonebridge<br />Author: Linda Griffin<br />Publisher: The Wild Rose Press<br />Publication Date: November 1, 2023<br />Pages: 256<br />Genre: Ghost Story/Romance<br /></span></span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><figure class="wp-block-image aligncenter"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="goodreads add to" class="wp-image-99113" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEjN3Mm-E2ZxoSU_xSwH26YdKt8_heNpCcoAXaZS4DBAoQZZ2v_8fR0vDr0HvWU-6Vkd_EWnaY7jYS7WUj5hk_F0FvbQT3bQH642_u1tmdIhIE3O9JqHet6avK012ycBlu0fqm2xImqF105Ou2Dmx6Cwp6sOChta_7xJuubDetZRkfvUjKVXrJlmrxer3tg=s0-d" /></span></span></figure></div>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After
the death of her mother, Rynna Dalton comes to live with her imperious
great-grandmother and her bookish, disabled cousin Ted at Stonebridge
Manor. Almost immediately she is aware of a mysterious presence, which
she believes is the spirit of her mother’s murdered cousin, Rosalind.
Rynna is charmed by Rosalind’s lawyer son Jason Wyatt, who courts her,
and she agrees to marry him. Meanwhile Ted and Rynna become good
friends. But Stonebridge holds secrets that will profoundly affect her
future. Why is Ted so opposed to the match? Why does Rosalind seem to
warn Rynna against it? And how far will Jason go to possess
Stonebridge—and the woman he professes to love?</span></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><h2 dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-580d7d28-7fff-0026-bbb9-38580b77c0d5" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></h2></div>
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<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Stonebridge-Linda-Griffin-ebook/dp/B0CGG1TN31"><b>Amazon</b></a><b> | </b><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1000585740"><b>Barnes & Noble</b></a><b> | </b><a href="https://books.apple.com/us/book/stonebridge/id6463164419"><b>iBooks</b></a></span></span></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyZtMRYxjnGZdsDzU1VhzXwOkC-YXNcpZipR9hsmbE4hq21pFj_JT2cLPDPVwJ30hMmbEzyDFYbd2M-dbUOoY0GUyeSt89K_0g2TjkU1CywHKwfLS_Mmm0OMKQE8qXNoGZEZ-bLAGBEmY/s1600/The+Road+to+Delano+about+the+author.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="92" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyZtMRYxjnGZdsDzU1VhzXwOkC-YXNcpZipR9hsmbE4hq21pFj_JT2cLPDPVwJ30hMmbEzyDFYbd2M-dbUOoY0GUyeSt89K_0g2TjkU1CywHKwfLS_Mmm0OMKQE8qXNoGZEZ-bLAGBEmY/s1600/The+Road+to+Delano+about+the+author.png" /></a></div>
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</span></div><br /><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFBXpxfP9uqtIQt2a-kTRs3vdwtekihTlBloCRE3QK113jg5AFERw0UhP4YUSqMuJLuTFdNhShPD8vUlPvddSqKQmkSDpXhDAa5seatTkTiX_kAdszo99-ezZHlfEiZ2MOP2bSG7e29zmc56aGcRzTW-jMUBYfnsCtVarZKy69gheUeXROMdAjtChU1Wg/s385/Linda%20Griffin%20author.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="385" data-original-width="385" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFBXpxfP9uqtIQt2a-kTRs3vdwtekihTlBloCRE3QK113jg5AFERw0UhP4YUSqMuJLuTFdNhShPD8vUlPvddSqKQmkSDpXhDAa5seatTkTiX_kAdszo99-ezZHlfEiZ2MOP2bSG7e29zmc56aGcRzTW-jMUBYfnsCtVarZKy69gheUeXROMdAjtChU1Wg/s320/Linda%20Griffin%20author.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Linda
Griffin knew she wanted to be a “book maker” as soon as she learned to
read and wrote her first story, “Judy and the Fairies,” at the age of
six. She retired as fiction librarian for the San Diego Public Library
to spend more time on her writing. She has had stories of every length
from short shorts to novellas published in numerous literary journals,
and <i>Stonebridge</i> is her eighth book from the Wild Rose Press. She
enjoys the three R’s — reading, writing, and research–as well as
Scrabble, movies, and travel. </span></span><p></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Author Links </b> </span></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.lindagriffinauthor.com/">Website</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/LindaGriffinA">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/lindagriffin.author/">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://www.instagram.com/lindagriffinauthor/">Instagram</a></span></span></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-52082765402517862952023-11-26T21:00:00.000-08:002023-11-27T04:51:19.573-08:00❤Inside the Pages: HER DYING KISS by Jennifer Chase #bookspotlight #insidethepages<p> </p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name"><a href="https://nuttinbutbooks2.blogspot.com/2023/09/inside-pages-hatch-change-your-life.html"></a>
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<p></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="78" data-original-width="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOiIC8VCxt8bzfmkixpHy_9lQSbjzwe1aIin2qRPAQMfLvnpCTkQPImuBPMKc-Jcvy3KeEpb0zy6XH5G1OGdfkuOPZh-hVqVGIgrT5avPriJA_aZvNiu92YGwn_fLXz44aRs2iAa9Si8/s1600/inside+the+pages.png" style="border: medium; color: #b81a09; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; position: relative;" /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipsMGW5y2Hsp3FTrW5MkFSlzLLcgt5jlQs8slfpQ9p_BIPUfipp27iu6fvtv2DjD-pMMOXUTJdXRhXsQCrISUInPExAd7w7Jj9V8b-gjk2ia6fUVtGV_oICGF12jDsIVOHxI9zX92VVsEqTPjkKMdrpwQvcKrwLEoDctGCDcKFaysBtbTjgtVD_wJEWGc/s1500/Her%20Dying%20Kiss%2026.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1150" data-original-width="1500" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipsMGW5y2Hsp3FTrW5MkFSlzLLcgt5jlQs8slfpQ9p_BIPUfipp27iu6fvtv2DjD-pMMOXUTJdXRhXsQCrISUInPExAd7w7Jj9V8b-gjk2ia6fUVtGV_oICGF12jDsIVOHxI9zX92VVsEqTPjkKMdrpwQvcKrwLEoDctGCDcKFaysBtbTjgtVD_wJEWGc/w400-h306/Her%20Dying%20Kiss%2026.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />Title: Her Dying Kiss</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Author: Jennifer Chase</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publisher: Bookouture</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publication Date: July 17, 2023</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Pages: 370</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Genre: Crime Thriller<br /></span><p></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 18px;">She
wakes to the dawn light streaming through the window and rolls over to
whisper good morning to her fiancé. But panic floods her veins. His side
of the bed is empty and cold. Blood trails towards the open door. All
trace of him is gone…</span></p><p><span style="color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 18px;">It’s
been one month since Detective Katie Scott’s fiancé, Chad, went missing
without a trace. Devastated Katie is still working tirelessly day and
night to track down the love of her life, barely sleeping and chasing
every new lead. But now the case has gone cold.</span></p><p><span style="color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 18px;">When
the body of beautiful Gina Hartfield is discovered among the pine
needles in a clearing on Lookout Ridge, Katie swallows her own pain and
knows she must focus on finding Gina’s killer. The young woman was found
with a pink velvet blindfold shading the hollows where her eyes had
been removed. Katie is certain she is chasing a sadistic individual who
will soon take another life…</span></p><p><span style="color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 18px;">But
the autopsy reveals Gina’s body was washed before being abandoned,
leaving no trace of evidence behind. And with no witnesses to Gina’s
disappearance, the women of Pine Valley are terrified to go out alone.</span></p><p><span style="color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 18px;">Desperately
combing the crime scene, when Katie sees a newspaper article about her
previous cases pinned to a nearby tree, she is certain Gina’s murder is
personal. Then tire tracks found in the forest are matched to a truck
seen following Chad in the days leading up to his disappearance. Katie’s
blood runs cold.</span></p><p><span style="color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 18px;">Is
there a link between Chad’s disappearance and Gina’s brutal murder, or
is the killer playing a twisted game with Katie? Can she find out the
truth before they take another life?</span></p><p><span style="color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 18px;">Here’s what critics are saying about <b><i>Her Dying Kiss</i></b>!</span></p><p><span style="color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 18px;"><i>“I
couldn’t put it down… action-packed with excellent plot twists… I had
no idea what was coming next… so gripped with many twists and turns.”</i> <b>Goodreads reviewe</b>r</span></p><p><span style="color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 18px;"><i>“Excellent,
nail-biting thriller with a plot that’s had me enthralled from page
one… I’ve been gripped through each twist and turn… jaw-dropping and
totally unexpected… brilliant.”</i> <b>NetGalley reviewer</b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 20px;"><b>Buy Links:</b></span></p><p>
</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 18px;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Her-Dying-Kiss-addictive-Detective-ebook/dp/B0C43HX694/ref=sr_1_3?keywords=Jennifer+Chase&qid=1694716344&sr=8-3"><b>Amazon</b></a><b> | </b><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/her-dying-kiss-jennifer-chase/1143739504"><b>Barnes & Noble</b></a><b> | </b><a href="https://bookouture.com/books/3074/"><b>Bookouture</b></a></span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s454/book+excerpt.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="76" data-original-width="454" height="54" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s320/book+excerpt.png" style="border: medium; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></p><p></p><p>
</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><p> </p><blockquote><p><span style="color: black;">Chapter One</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">One Month Later</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;"><i>Tuesday 1130 hours</i></span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">There was a dead body, which was the
focus of the synchronized police search. A deceased woman had been found
by the utility company during their routine check and maintenance of
the meters along the roadway. The body was efficiently wrapped in a
large piece of dark brown burlap that had been rolled several times
leaving only her head exposed. If not looking closely you would
misinterpret the body dump for some type of discarded rug.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">The victim was a brunette woman with
long, perfectly combed hair with the strands resting on the burlap. At
first, it seemed she was relaxed and had merely gone to sleep when, in
fact, there were pink velvet pieces of fabric covering her eyes, as if
shading her view of something.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">John Blackburn, Pine Valley Sheriff’s
Department’s forensic supervisor, kneeled down and carefully lifted one
of the pieces of velvet, revealing the dark empty socket the eyeball had
once occupied. The eye had been cleanly detached. It gave the body a
more macabre appearance than the usual fixed eye stares of the dead.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">John’s face was deeply sad and his
mouth was turned down as he prepared to take a few more photos to
document the scene before the medical examiner’s office took possession.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">He carefully circled the body, taking
the appropriate photographs—overall, medium range, then close-up—before
collecting any evidence he could find. The young woman looked to be
resting as the late afternoon sunshine cast down on her face. Her
complexion, pale and ashen, appeared to be scrubbed clean, giving her a
waxy doll-like exterior. There were no evident signs of makeup, dirt or
blood on her face.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">The south district area of Pine Valley
was known for several warehouses that had been empty now for more than
six months after a manufacturing company had vacated to a newer and more
modern facility in an adjacent town. The front area to the one where
the body had been found was overgrown, the weeds a few feet tall and
garbage strewn around from where it had fallen out of an overturned,
rusted-out dumpster. The dreary grey building looked more like emergency
bunkers from a long time ago than a plant that had recently
manufactured automotive parts.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">Parked along the cracked driveway
leading to the loading docks were several police cruisers, county
vehicles and the forensic van. The main area of interest was near one of
the loading bays. There were numerous cones and flags around, marking
various pieces of evidence for photography documentation. The emergency
personnel monitored the area and were conducting grid searches and
making sure that no one was in or around the area that wasn’t supposed
to be there, in addition to searching for more potential evidence.
Everyone moved with precision and unity for the common goal of
maintaining the crime scene.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">“What do you think, John?” asked
Detective McGaven. His towering height made him noticeable from a
distance. His badge and gun were attached to his belt. “Is it the same
as the other at Lookout Ridge?”</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">John walked up to the detective and
nodded slowly. “We won’t know for sure until the body is unrolled and
examined under controlled conditions, and I can run some tests… but, the
signature appears to be similar if not the same, with the removed
eyes.”</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">McGaven scratched his head, still
observing the latest victim. His thoughts returned to his partner,
Detective Katie Scott, and how he wished she were there examining the
crime scene. Her perspective, instincts, and experience over the past
year and half had been more than exemplary—her methods sometimes
bordering on unorthodox, but always getting results. He had left several
messages for her in hopes that she would open communications and
ultimately return to work. His expression was solemn. It was as if a
part of him was missing without her. He wanted to go to her house, but
respected her need for privacy at this difficult time.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">“Wish Katie was here?” said John watching the detective closely.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">McGaven looked at the forensic supervisor and nodded. “How’d you know?”</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">“I feel it too. It seems strange not having her here.” He gazed around the area as if he expected to see Katie appear.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">“Anything new with this scene?”</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">John shook his head. “Not that I can see right now. But we’ll know more soon.”</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">McGaven was disappointed, but knew that
John would do everything he could to find any evidence. The last thing
the detective wanted was for these homicides to go cold. He turned away
and saw Detective Hamilton speaking with the utility workers. It wasn’t
his optimum partnership, but he respected the detective and would
overlook personality differences to make it work. “Thanks, John,” he
said as he walked away, moving carefully around the area, looking for
possible entrances and exit locations of the killer.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">A young blonde woman with short hair
was bent over taking a tire impression with a type of dental stone,
waiting for it to harden. She looked up when McGaven approached. “Hi,
Detective,” she said and smiled.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">“How’s it going, Eva?”</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">“Good. This is my third impression. Two
were consistent to each other and this one is different and definitely
older. It’s probably not the killer’s, but John said we needed to be
thorough.”</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">McGaven nodded. “I agree. If this crime
scene is connected to the other one at Lookout Ridge, then we need the
evidence to tie them together.”</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">“Ten-four,” she said and continued her task.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">McGaven saw that Hamilton was speaking
with the officers first on the scene so he took the opportunity to check
out around the building. Everything was extremely overgrown, looking
more as though it had been abandoned for years, not months. The weeds
were extremely tall and had folded over due to their height and weight.
There was an area where pallets, recyclable materials, and miscellaneous
pieces of metal equipment had been stacked in the deserted area.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">Still walking carefully, he was trying
not to step on something potentially hazardous or possibly
evidence-oriented. The further he walked the quieter it became—the
voices around the crime scene seemed to settle to a low hum as he
studied the back area. The sun was high and beat down on him making
perspiration trickle down his back. He kept walking, but nothing
appeared out of the ordinary. He thought about what Katie would do—he
had been with her at many crime scenes and knew she would try to get a
sense of the area, to look for places where the killer might have been.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">The back of the building looked much
like the front except more weather-beaten. The grey paint faded in areas
and the windows on the second floor were dirty with some broken out. He
observed the inconsistencies of the exterior of the building. Even
though there wasn’t any graffiti to deface the area, the elements had
caused rough and weathered places resembling an industrial mosaic
appearance.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">As he perused the area, he noticed a
trail where weeds had been trampled, not by animals, but by something
bigger. A person. Stopping in his tracks, he systematically scanned the
area. There were no other signs indicating disruption to the weeds, so
he cautiously moved forward. He spotted some paper or a piece of garbage
rolled up tightly and wedged into the crevice of an exterior vent. It
could have been easily missed or even dismissed, but something in
McGaven’s gut made him take notice. He was going to alert John and Eva
in order to have them search and document the area, but his instinct
drove him to verify the origins of the paper first after quickly taking a
photo of it with his cell phone.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">Taking two more steps to meet up with
the wall, he retrieved his gloves and slipped them on, and then
carefully touched the paper. Leaning in, McGaven noticed that it
appeared to be consistent to ordinary computer paper that had something
printed on it. It wasn’t weathered and the printing was dark and
readable. In fact, the paper appeared to be recent.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">McGaven gently unrolled the paper. The
condition and edges were as if it had been placed recently – there were
no folds or fragile areas. As he continued to unroll it, he saw it was
an article most likely printed from the internet. To his shock, the
title read: <i>Pine Valley Detectives Solve Three Murders in Coldwater Creek.</i></span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">McGaven took a step back—his senses
were now heightened as he glanced around, surmising that the killer had
placed this article for them to find.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">Why?</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">Was it the killer’s calling card? Was he taunting the police?</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">Was there another article hidden at the previous crime scene at Lookout Ridge they had missed?</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black;">The article concerned the last case
that he and Katie had worked in a neighboring town. All the details
flowed through his mind. It had been tough and dangerous. He carefully
replaced the paper where he had found it and hurried to alert John.</span></p></blockquote><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/s589/about+the+author+7.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="70" data-original-width="589" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/w640-h76/about+the+author+7.png" style="border: medium; position: relative;" width="640" /></span></a></p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><p><span style="color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 18px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfb_9zAh8Xg3g2kD1r9MBn_BDlgQ3vGdvSlNM3UOSvKPjpqGh780T6hhumibFzSPGDOoBANui8gOPAEOClBbXH1wEeJROIki3xShm8TiD2bmfkfYRXsrq-TAMQMk3fgmrZfSjB4xuM7O5zq3FikzW9Tw4yOkfZqlHIU841kUmn4_3OKmYo4n2AeTggpRw/s469/Jennifer%20Chase%20author.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="469" data-original-width="421" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfb_9zAh8Xg3g2kD1r9MBn_BDlgQ3vGdvSlNM3UOSvKPjpqGh780T6hhumibFzSPGDOoBANui8gOPAEOClBbXH1wEeJROIki3xShm8TiD2bmfkfYRXsrq-TAMQMk3fgmrZfSjB4xuM7O5zq3FikzW9Tw4yOkfZqlHIU841kUmn4_3OKmYo4n2AeTggpRw/s320/Jennifer%20Chase%20author.jpg" width="287" /></a></div>Jennifer
Chase is a multi award-winning and USA Today Best Selling crime fiction
author, as well as a consulting criminologist. Jennifer holds a
bachelor degree in police forensics and a master’s degree in criminology
& criminal justice. These academic pursuits developed out of her
curiosity about the criminal mind as well as from her own experience
with a violent psychopath, providing Jennifer with deep personal
investment in every story she tells. In addition, she holds
certifications in serial crime and criminal profiling.<br />
<p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 21px;"><b>Author Links </b> </span></p><p>
</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 18px;"><a href="https://authorjenniferchase.com/">Website</a> | <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/search?search=jennifer+chase">BookBub</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/jchasenovelist">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJenniferChase">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://www.instagram.com/jenchaseauthor/">Instagram</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2780337.Jennifer_Chase">Goodreads</a></span></p></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-6112574769261463556" itemprop="description articleBody"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPrHkOyEgROxPNbFOiDqNNvDlsDpMiqUfRWv7xwKwx8t5V3GtanPMZLjjgI9kBgkHomhFHy-jNnF4oIBP2h0foVBGobhiyr6Pcaz-4HNyd6nEp6kPUqxBoFxDNol86nOg-dEFgwqv1yXJRGXIeXDN36gHKrZeTN1Ew8xqxBDamT4zWl9rYS9J99bbWpQw/s640/Her%20Dying%20Kiss%20on%20tour.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPrHkOyEgROxPNbFOiDqNNvDlsDpMiqUfRWv7xwKwx8t5V3GtanPMZLjjgI9kBgkHomhFHy-jNnF4oIBP2h0foVBGobhiyr6Pcaz-4HNyd6nEp6kPUqxBoFxDNol86nOg-dEFgwqv1yXJRGXIeXDN36gHKrZeTN1Ew8xqxBDamT4zWl9rYS9J99bbWpQw/s16000/Her%20Dying%20Kiss%20on%20tour.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-6112574769261463556" itemprop="description articleBody"><br /> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-3253809339458643852023-11-15T21:00:00.000-08:002023-11-15T21:00:00.139-08:00❤Inside the Pages: ONCE UPON A CHRISTMAS CASTLE by Virginia Barlow #bookspotlight #insidethepages<p> </p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name"><a href="https://nuttinbutbooks2.blogspot.com/2023/09/inside-pages-hatch-change-your-life.html"></a>
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<p></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="78" data-original-width="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOiIC8VCxt8bzfmkixpHy_9lQSbjzwe1aIin2qRPAQMfLvnpCTkQPImuBPMKc-Jcvy3KeEpb0zy6XH5G1OGdfkuOPZh-hVqVGIgrT5avPriJA_aZvNiu92YGwn_fLXz44aRs2iAa9Si8/s1600/inside+the+pages.png" style="border: medium none; color: #b81a09; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; position: relative;" /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglFIMf_T1oPzzbOEN9L8eU0V-VbNnD0AaCU18vcZQX3SM6qsAM_hpdBsgkDCoATvZiHdMtyuQwP0AOuuWgekylNKtKLqsgBlaLYlRixR8GJcWe0qy4Xq200PFc9e2YGxxrMMBD1KFTGKKGbIgp-C7UFy8YJ7xR6VcJRE1nhNnfbz5fyys0vpUR2jv3FOI/s587/Once%20Upon%20a%20Christmas%20Castle%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="587" data-original-width="395" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglFIMf_T1oPzzbOEN9L8eU0V-VbNnD0AaCU18vcZQX3SM6qsAM_hpdBsgkDCoATvZiHdMtyuQwP0AOuuWgekylNKtKLqsgBlaLYlRixR8GJcWe0qy4Xq200PFc9e2YGxxrMMBD1KFTGKKGbIgp-C7UFy8YJ7xR6VcJRE1nhNnfbz5fyys0vpUR2jv3FOI/s320/Once%20Upon%20a%20Christmas%20Castle%20cover.jpg" width="215" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Title: Once Upon a Christmas Castle</span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Author: Virginia Barlow</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publisher: The Wild Rose Press</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publication Date: November 6, 2023</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Pages: 276</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Genre: Holiday Romance<br /></span><p></p>
<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Lady
Rosalind Chatham journeys with her family to Weston Castle to wed an
ancient earl on Christmas day. Yearning for true love, she falls for the
duke, her stepfather’s cousin, while preparing her nuptials. Lady
Rosalind entrances the Duke of Weston. Concerned for her future with the
tempestuous earl, he can’t afford to get involved. The fines and
scandal will be too great for a man of his wealth and power. When the
truth comes to light, and he almost loses her forever, he finds he
cannot afford to give less than his whole heart.<br /></span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What Critics Are Saying:</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Loved
this holiday romance between Lady Rosalind (Ruby) and the charismatic
Duke of Weston. Facing a forced marriage to a loathsome noble, Rosalind
uncovers lies and betrayal which almost cost her the life of the man she
loves.</span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">With
plot twists, devious characters, attempted abduction, and touches of
humor– thanks to a little boy and his unpredictable pet frog– this
Christmas novel is a delightful holiday read!”</span></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Buy Links:</span></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Once-Christmas-Castle-Virginia-Barlow/dp/1509250379/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1696718711&sr=8-1">Amazon</a> | <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/once-upon-a-christmas-castle-virginia-barlow/1144009112?ean=9781509250370">Barnes & Noble</a></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s454/book+excerpt.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="76" data-original-width="454" height="54" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s320/book+excerpt.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></p><blockquote><h2 class="wp-block-heading"><i style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">Chapter One<p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Yorkshire, England</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Late November 1813</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Lady Rosalind Chatham’s first view of Weston Castle took her breath away.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Gazing
out the little window of her stepfather’s luxurious carriage as they
turned a corner on the winding road, the trees of the dense forest fell
away to reveal a magical, ethereal structure rising high above them.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Standing tall against the dark foliage of the forest, the heavy stone castle sparkled in the afternoon light.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Rosalind
blinked up at the elegant towers and spires caressing an azure blue sky
holding communion with fluffy white clouds and sighed with
appreciation.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The relatives spoke of the beauty of Weston Castle, but their lavish praise in no way prepared her for this glorious reality.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Allowing
her gaze to roam the enchanting scene before her, she wondered how the
gate to her private hell could resemble the entrance to heaven. Such a
thing should not be allowed, for it played with her mind and heart in a
most unpleasant fashion. Shaking her head at the irony of the situation,
she turned her attention back to the lavish grounds surrounding them.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The
cobblestone road they traveled on meandered through acres of manicured
gardens strewn with glistening diamond-studded droplets of frost to an
impressive outer wall made of stone and curved metal.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Guards
dressed in blue, gold, and black stood at attention beside the arched
entrance welcoming her stepfather and mother in the forward carriage
before waving the rest of the entourage through. Their warm breath hung
suspended in the frosty air as they acknowledged their</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">visitors.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Rosalind’s
heart skipped a beat as their carriage wheeled past the guards. She had
never been so happy and so distraught for a journey to end.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Her
ancient, newly acquired fiancé, the Earl of Gloucester, would arrive
within a fortnight for the wedding, planned for Christmas Day. Feeling
as though she received a lump of coal in her stocking, a shiver of
revulsion skated down her spine when his wrinkled face and snowy white
hair popped into her head. Bushy white eyebrows dipped low over dull
brown eyes accompanied by thin lips and nose. An inch shorter in stature
then she, with a rounded belly and hunched shoulders, he hobbled when
he walked because of swelling in his left foot.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">When
she left this glorious abode, she would do so as his wife. Anxiety
twisted a knot in her stomach as she shoved the thought aside.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Two
London seasons, a handful of half-hearted suitors, and a
less-than-favorable reputation later, she received one proposal, his, a
fifty-four-year-old widower anxious to make her his brood mare.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She
often wondered where the term “love of my life” originated from. Did
one have more than one? She concluded one must after taking her mother
into consideration. Mama claimed Rosalind’s father held the title until
his untimely death, and following her marriage to Lord Timothy Weston,
now claimed her stepfather to be her one true love. Thus, reason
dictated each person must have at last two, perhaps more. And if there
were so many about, why had she not run into at least one of hers?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Is this Cousin Lucius’ castle?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Her
five-year-old half-brother’s question jerked her back to the present as
he squinted his nose at the drawbridge. “If I knew we were this close, I
would have waited to stop.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The heavy wooden beams groaned under the weight of the carriage.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">One
of the many reasons her stepfather and mother traveled in their own
carriage with Rosalind and Thomas in another had to do with her
brother’s frequent stops to relieve his bladder and constant chatter.
When her</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">brother grew bored, he invented reasons to stretch his legs. She would join him if not for the fact she must behave as a lady.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Shaking her head, she replied, “Next time, be patient.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He gave her an eye roll and studied the scenery with interest. “Do you think Cousin Lucius has a pond?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Gazing
at his angelic face, she smiled. The child’s big blue eyes stole her
heart the second he appeared in this world as a tiny babe, and she held
him in her arms for the first time. She alone possessed the fortitude to</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">deal with his precocious behavior.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Papa
says he does.” Although Lord Timothy did not father her, she called him
Papa since she had no recollection of her real father.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“If
I had patience, I would not have found Admiral Georgeous Frederick
Alexander Junior the Third.” A wiggly, croaking object appeared from the
inner pocket of his jacket, clutched tight in a chubby hand.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Rosalind’s eyebrow rose. “Who? What is this? You caught a frog?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He nodded with a wide grin and set the amphibian down on his best linen trousers.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She
frowned in alarm. “He will ruin your breeches and make Mama upset. Put
him back in your pocket until I decide what must be done.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Their
carriage rumbled across cobblestones once more and drew to a stop. She
shot a quick glance out the window, noting the parents disembarking.
Somehow, she must deal with the frog before his presence became known or
risk her mother’s fury.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Frowning
out the window, she eyed red carpeted stairs leading upward to a tall,
dark-haired figure wearing a royal blue jacket with gold braids on the</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">shoulders
and black breeches standing cold and aloof at the top. A regal white
and gray dog sat at attention beside the duke, eyeing the newcomers.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The
gentleman must be Cousin Lucius, the Duke of Weston. His face remained
expressionless, and his manner impeccable as the parents approached.
Then with a slight nod of his head, his grace welcomed them to Weston.
The dog lay still like a statue, and the only movement arose from the
breeze ruffling his thick fur.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The
parents spoke with the duke for a moment, and then her mother dipped an
elegant bow low enough to impress royalty while her stepfather shook
hands with the impressive figure before them.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Masculine,
powerful, wealthy, and distant Lucius Alexander Phillip Weston became
the fifth Duke of Weston five years prior upon the death of his</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">grandfather. As head of the Weston family, the duke invited one relative per holiday season to stay at his castle.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This
season, their turn arrived with an extravagant and very expensive,
gilded invitation signed by the duke’s own hand. Fortuitous considering
her recent engagement? Perhaps. Rosalind suspected the duke invited them
out of sheer despair at the thought of opening another of her mother’s
hundred-and-one letters begging for the honor.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mama
obsessed over impressing Rosalind’s fiancé and exaggerated their
financial situation to the point a wedding in the castle was necessary
to keep the earl from guessing the true nature of their circumstance.
Her</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">mother
believed if the earl had knowledge of their lack of funds, he would
withdraw his proposal, and she would be pitied by the local nobility for
failing to obtain an advantageous marriage for her only daughter.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Frantic
to maintain the façade and her social position in their little village,
she sent a new letter every day, entreating her husband’s distant
cousin to allow them the privilege of the upcoming nuptials.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The
present returned with a bump when the parents turned and motioned
toward their carriage. What if the dog smelled the frog? Panic flared as
she gazed from her brother to his wiggling, jumping companion still
sitting in his lap and returned to the forbidding scene on the stairs.
The amphibian must go.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Mama
and Papa want to make a good impression on his grace. You must leave
the admiral in the carriage so we do not disappoint them.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“But
he is part of the family now. Why can he not meet Cousin Lucius?” The
boy held his pet up to her nose as he asked his question.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Your
friend might shock the parents since he is so new to our household. Put
him on the carriage seat, and we will return for him later.” She jumped
when the carriage door opened, and a footman set the step stool on</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">the ground, holding his hand out to offer her assistance.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“But I want him to come!” The boy’s voice grew in volume, and his lower lip stuck out, threatening a fullblown mutiny.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">If
Thomas did not calm down, Mama would scorch her ears later. “Fine.”
Thinking quick, she stuffed the frog into the left pocket of her gown
where she could monitor the situation and hopefully hide the scent from
the great beast beside the duke. “He shall ride with me.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Now behave.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The
child’s rebellion disappeared like a foul scent in the breeze, followed
by another wide grin as they stepped from the carriage. “You should
call the duke cousin, too. I am sure he will not mind.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mama
frowned. “Who, Thomas? Who will not mind?” Casting a quick worried
glance in Rosalind’s direction, she took two steps toward them.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Everything
is fine, Mama. Thomas expressed his opinion. Nothing more.” She kept
her hand against her pocket to hide the wiggling bulge and prayed no one
would notice.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Her
mother visibly relaxed and held her hand out to the boy. “Come.”
Catching her brother by the hand, she turned to their host. “Your grace,
I would like to introduce you to our son, Thomas Hutchinson Weston.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Rosalind stopped a foot behind and waited her turn, her gaze on the dog</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">To his credit, the child executed a perfect bow in response to the duke’s deep voice bidding him welcome to the castle.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“And
this?” The deep voice drew her gaze to his, and her knees clacked
together as their host’s gaze lingered on her hair and face before
perusing the rest of her.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Stepping forward, she swallowed and waited for the parents to make the introduction.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The
duke stood six feet tall if an inch, possessed dark wind-swept hair,
piercing blue eyes, a broad forehead, straight nose, and a dimple in his
chin. His jacket emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">narrowness
of his waist. His muscled thighs strained against the fabric of his
breeches, and his boots gleamed in the sunlight. No man of this caliber
had stood this close to her before, and Rosalind snapped her gaping</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">mouth closed, dropping her gaze before her expression gave her fascination away.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Lady Rosalind Chatham, daughter of my wife’s late husband, the Earl of Chatham.” Papa stood beside her, gripping her elbow.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She dipped a deep curtsy, and the frog jumped in alarm, straining against the fabric of her pocket.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The dog let out a low growl, and cold sweat broke out on her forehead.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The
duke’s cool, impassive gaze dropped to the pocket of her gown while he
snapped his fingers at the animal beside him. “Silence, Ulysses.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The white beast did not make another sound but kept his gaze fixed on her pocket.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Clasping
her hand against the opening to keep the amphibian from escaping, she
rose to her feet and pinched the edges of the fabric together with her
left hand, hoping she adopted a believable level of disinterest in the
dancing fabric at her hip. Casting a worried glance at the dog, she
smiled, ignoring the panic in her chest.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mama
would never forgive her if something went amiss, and this situation
contained enough potential to effect ancestors yet unborn. She inched
backward, praying the breeze blew her scent away from the massive dog,
not toward him.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Do not be shy, Rosalind.” Mama nudged her forward, and with her attention on the dog, she tripped on a stair.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Ah,
the bride.” The duke’s gaze traveled over her a second time, and a
smile touched his mouth. “Welcome to my home, Lady Rosalind.” He bowed
from the waist and took her right hand in his, kissing her gloved</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">knuckles.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The dog leaned forward, staring at her pocket.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I
call her Ruby. She is my sister.” Thomas stepped to her side to
establish ownership, tugging on her left hand, the one holding her
pocket closed, and glared up at the duke.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">To
her extreme consternation. she lost her grip on the edges of the
fabric, and Admiral Georgeous Frederick Alexander Junior the Third made
his debut into the family by jumping out onto the duke’s bent</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">windswept hair!</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Everyone reacted at once.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The dog barked and leaped at the duke, jumping around his master for a better vantage point.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Anxious
to contain the situation, Rosalind made a dive for the frog while Mama
screamed for help. Thomas yelled and dove in to retrieve his pet at the
same time she did. They hit heads, falling to the ground in a heap. She</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">groaned in frustration.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Papa burst out laughing, offering no assistance whatsoever, to Mama’s verbal dismay.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">While
the duke snapped his finger at the dog, captured the amphibian with one
hand, and surveyed the group before him as if this were a common
occurrence.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Heel, Ulysses.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The dog whined and dropped to his belly, keeping his gaze on the frog.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The
liveried butler, two steps behind, hurried to the duke’s side to
relieve him of the green wiggling creature while Papa continued to
chuckle, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You owe me twenty gold coins, Amelia. We have not been here a full ten minutes, and already we have an incident.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Her
mother sputtered apologies as she fluttered around the duke, trying to
help but unwilling to touch the loathsome creature he held. She gave the
dog a wide berth.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Cease
this fuss.” The duke’s quiet voice stopped everyone mid-stride. He held
his free hand down to assist Rosalind to her feet before studying her
and Thomas.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Silence
filled the cobblestone area around them as the duke gazed from one to
the other. “To whom does this creature belong?” Blue eyes narrowed on
her face as he waited for her answer.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Her
heart beat loud in her ears, and a band tightened around her chest as
she considered possible repercussions. His grace might send them home in</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">shame.
And if he did, Mama would send her to a convent to hide her
embarrassment from the world. No one wanted the social disgrace of
having a spinster for a daughter, least of all her mother. Marrying the
earl was her one chance for acceptance and approval.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Anxiety
turned to nausea and rose in her throat as her future loomed before her
sending fear skittering down her spine. The punishment would be far
worse for Thomas. A convent, she could escape from, but a boarding
school for him would crush his spirit, and without her, he would be
unmanageable.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Swallowing, she lifted her chin to meet the duke’s piercing gaze and take responsibility. “He belongs—”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She squeezed her brother’s hand, stopping short when Thomas stepped forward.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“He
is mine. Ruby kept him safe in her pocket so he would not embarrass
Mama.” The child stood with his head thrown back, his gaze unwavering as
he faced their host.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I see.” The duke held the frog out and glanced down at the boy. “And did you plan to carry him into my home?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Thomas
nodded. “We must because we named him, and he is part of the family
now. He cannot stay in the carriage. He will get lonely.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mama groaned as if she could hold back no longer.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“For
God’s sake, Thomas, frogs do not belong in castles nor in carriages.
Really, Rosalind, I should think you would discourage him rather than
abet him in his nonsense. His grace will no doubt want us to return home
now, and I warned you of the repercussions if he did.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">How
can this happen when I worked so hard to get us here?” Flushing with
embarrassment, Mama dipped down in a swooning curtsy, addressing their
host. “Your grace, I do apologize for all this.” Waving her hand toward
her two children and the frog still wiggling in the duke’s fingers.
“What can we do to make this up to you?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“May I have him back?” The boy held his arms up to retrieve his pet, not at all repentant.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The dog whined as if unable to bear the tension of the frog being so close and having to obey his master and stay.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Rosalind
held her breath and waited as the duke studied the boy’s face, her
mother’s fawning curtsy, and Papa’s jovial laughter. Thinking he meant
to be stern with them all, he surprised her by dropping to his haunches,
becoming eye level with the child.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You
may have him on one condition. While you are here at the castle, you
must ask before you invite any more creatures into my home whether they
are part of the family or not. I like to know who occupies my castle. Do</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I have your word?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Thomas did not hesitate. “Yes, your grace. Thank you, Cousin Lucius.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Their
host handed the frog back to the boy and rose to his feet. Holding out
his hand to help Mama to hers, he offered her his arm. “If I may voice
my opinion, do not be too harsh with them, my lady. The boy meant no</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">harm.
Frogs do possess a certain charm for lads of his age. As for Lady
Rosalind, she meant to defend the boy. A kind heart is an admiral trait
in a young lady.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mama
gaped and then snapped her mouth closed as she allowed him to lead her
up the stairs to the heavy entrance door while monitoring the large dog
keeping pace on the duke’s other side. “I pray you feel as lenient</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">toward us by the time we leave, your grace.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Papa
fell in behind them, clasping his hands behind his back as he strolled
along, still chuckling. “I agree, Lucius. Both with you and my wife. I
remember a time or two we were sent to our chambers for such antics.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Quite right.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The three approached the open door to the castle and disappeared inside.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Rosalind
followed, bemused by the way their host dealt with her younger
half-brother. “Come along, Thomas.” She took his hand and hurried after
the parents, trying not to envision the talk she knew her mother planned
for later. The duke may be appeased, but Mama would not be until she
had her say.</span></p></span></i></h2></blockquote><p></p><p>
</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><p> </p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/s589/about+the+author+7.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="70" data-original-width="589" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/w640-h76/about+the+author+7.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="640" /></span></a></p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: Gabriela; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0wn9jIJhYb_RIMopHpBsQRQ80VXz_EWr4_ttrRqYfwhwQeiYgOPfu8XT9X0hA5okL5OO1bly9utn3u4VRb4xgjwYKZuLE8QFXmU3Ni18u-tJzg0sd_iGYZQoRUAn0DyoHSvfdK9VQ0bsgmyNCoI63CCtowFp5Z3xWFmG_ASx2k7CS_NAhhzLxVWejZSA/s531/Virginia%20Barlow.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="487" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0wn9jIJhYb_RIMopHpBsQRQ80VXz_EWr4_ttrRqYfwhwQeiYgOPfu8XT9X0hA5okL5OO1bly9utn3u4VRb4xgjwYKZuLE8QFXmU3Ni18u-tJzg0sd_iGYZQoRUAn0DyoHSvfdK9VQ0bsgmyNCoI63CCtowFp5Z3xWFmG_ASx2k7CS_NAhhzLxVWejZSA/w366-h400/Virginia%20Barlow.png" width="366" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Virginia
Barlow has always loved reading romance novels. She used to sneak into
her mom’s room as a young girl and read them while her mother was gone.
As she grew older, her reading tastes expanded to sci-fi, dystopian,
paranormal, and fantasy.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Gabriela; font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She
considered becoming an author in her late twenties but as a busy mother
with toddlers, she didn’t have the time or the energy. Later, in her
fifties, she decided to give it a try and has enjoyed every moment of it
since. She recently signed her fourteenth contract and is over the moon
with excitement. Writing is truly her happy place.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Her
husband of forty-one years is her greatest support as are all her
children. Most of them are grown and carving out lives for themselves.
But they are the beat of her heart and with every grandchild, the rhythm
gets stronger. She enjoys every moment of her life and plans to live
them to the fullest.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela; font-size: large;"><b>Author Links </b> </span></p><p>
</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.virginia-barlow.com">Website</a> | <a href="http://www.twitter.com/Virgini35142126">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/3046288755596817">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://www.instagram.com/virginiasromancenook/">Instagram</a> | <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@virginiasromancenook">TikTok</a></span></p></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-6112574769261463556" itemprop="description articleBody"> </div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-6112574769261463556" itemprop="description articleBody"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5PA70xaOjc67TNKx9ZBQtUR1zYT1ZprwSSXHXOPwbwIWr-IREwCmf8B_QZ475ZZoCRQHdxk4yPg4DJ2KYxYptRJtmPWdZUvcC5p8UTMPlQvNU2NLkEqqU0hXTAXESY4xkNf0e8RKTTS8sqrV7dd9imaST5aW2qpfIeBjJKAkav141N7k5HN4ABtzn-Jg/s695/Once%20Upon%20a%20Christmas%20Castle%2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="695" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5PA70xaOjc67TNKx9ZBQtUR1zYT1ZprwSSXHXOPwbwIWr-IREwCmf8B_QZ475ZZoCRQHdxk4yPg4DJ2KYxYptRJtmPWdZUvcC5p8UTMPlQvNU2NLkEqqU0hXTAXESY4xkNf0e8RKTTS8sqrV7dd9imaST5aW2qpfIeBjJKAkav141N7k5HN4ABtzn-Jg/w640-h276/Once%20Upon%20a%20Christmas%20Castle%2016.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> </div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-6112574769261463556" itemprop="description articleBody"><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-64944803682084896612023-11-07T21:00:00.001-08:002023-11-07T21:00:00.158-08:00Book Trailer Feature: Godzilla: The Monster Fight Record Series by Patrick Kelley<p style="text-align: center;"> <iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Zm9gmaCMyvk?si=kG7fhlIO5KJtw8t3" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></p><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijB56ivg-oPE5b6K7umMM97WfNPsLTIkT0aHGDrwkHSEDvW9M6Y155hrUzWEOl4000CtAQSWMLg5YOa8YpkUK-WEfSMB2QJgy9ofH2GuF0q33T6r75fzNbwgj5emK1VkcSHBHxfrZHHow/s1600/The+Road+to+Delano+about+the+book.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="93" data-original-width="353" height="84" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijB56ivg-oPE5b6K7umMM97WfNPsLTIkT0aHGDrwkHSEDvW9M6Y155hrUzWEOl4000CtAQSWMLg5YOa8YpkUK-WEfSMB2QJgy9ofH2GuF0q33T6r75fzNbwgj5emK1VkcSHBHxfrZHHow/s320/The+Road+to+Delano+about+the+book.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMjah6cOw385QT3EuZcFbaudL3xNBYhOHUH-ZM01ZnzOyYpX8-ZO7zUjuPwyIFhYq-ncDGLgO0moqanlBte5mhuczUVzvTLZMVOuJ_4IOp72KoXm8QH5Z-tCiqnKhrfySsYQCGVrlZQsdnwPstgdWR8O46pS6PL3cZXwuxvfK-SPAI_nnmnNwmyeYAimQ/s614/Godzilla.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="477" data-original-width="614" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMjah6cOw385QT3EuZcFbaudL3xNBYhOHUH-ZM01ZnzOyYpX8-ZO7zUjuPwyIFhYq-ncDGLgO0moqanlBte5mhuczUVzvTLZMVOuJ_4IOp72KoXm8QH5Z-tCiqnKhrfySsYQCGVrlZQsdnwPstgdWR8O46pS6PL3cZXwuxvfK-SPAI_nnmnNwmyeYAimQ/w640-h498/Godzilla.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><h2 dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-580d7d28-7fff-0026-bbb9-38580b77c0d5" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: Gabriela; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 400; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Title: Godzilla: The Monster Fight Record Series</span></span></h2><h2 dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: Gabriela; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 400; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Author: Patrick Kelley</span></span></h2><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Gabriela; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Publication Date: </span></span></p><h2 dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: Gabriela; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 400; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Pages: Volume 1 - 309, Volume 2 - 430</span></span></h2><h2 dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: Gabriela; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 400; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Genre: Nonfiction/Reference</span></span></h2>
<p><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/189041214-godzilla?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=9853js5FRS&rank=1">
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Cherry Swash"; font-size: 18px;"><i>Godzilla: The Monster Fight Record</i> is
a two-volume series that provides a history of all the monster battles
throughout the Godzilla film series. After seven decades and almost
forty films, Godzilla has earned the title of King of the Monsters. The
Godzilla films have showcased the King’s legendary battles with
larger-than-life opponents like the three-headed King Ghidorah, the
winged guardian Mothra, his robotic doppelganger Mechagodzilla, and the
original giant monster star King Kong. <i>The Monster Fight Record </i>analyzes
these titanic battles to determine an informed and accurate win-loss
record for Godzilla and all of his monster co-stars. Fans of kaiju and
classic science fiction films will enjoy a trip down memory lane while
also getting a sports-style analysis of the monster battles, complete
with statistics and win percentages for each beast.</span></p></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Godzilla-Monster-Fight-Record-1954-1975/dp/B0CGL7R2CR/ref=sr_1_18?crid=218B9PGMZCZU5&keywords=patrick+kelley&qid=1697286871&sprefix=patrick+kelley%2Caps%2C169&sr=8-18" style="font-family: "Cherry Swash"; font-size: 18px;"><b>Amazon Book 1</b></a><b style="font-family: "Cherry Swash"; font-size: 18px;"> | </b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Godzilla-Monster-Fight-Record-1984-2021/dp/B0CGKV5RG5/ref=pd_bxgy_sccl_1/145-2563626-5637032?pd_rd_w=UoxhP&content-id=amzn1.sym.43d28dfc-aa4f-4ef6-b591-5ab7095e137f&pf_rd_p=43d28dfc-aa4f-4ef6-b591-5ab7095e137f&pf_rd_r=C54J7VY9Q76YYJC5ANWM&pd_rd_wg=vT31k&pd_rd_r=589ca486-8224-4cb1-8a75-f5197727d727&pd_rd_i=B0CGKV5RG5&psc=1" style="font-family: "Cherry Swash"; font-size: 18px;"><b>Amazon Book 2</b></a><b style="font-family: "Cherry Swash"; font-size: 18px;"> | </b><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/%22Godzilla%3A+The+Monster+Fight+Record%22?Ntk=P_Series_Title&Ns=P_Series_Number&Ntx=mode+matchall" style="font-family: "Cherry Swash"; font-size: 18px;"><b>Barnes & Noble</b></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyZtMRYxjnGZdsDzU1VhzXwOkC-YXNcpZipR9hsmbE4hq21pFj_JT2cLPDPVwJ30hMmbEzyDFYbd2M-dbUOoY0GUyeSt89K_0g2TjkU1CywHKwfLS_Mmm0OMKQE8qXNoGZEZ-bLAGBEmY/s1600/The+Road+to+Delano+about+the+author.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="92" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyZtMRYxjnGZdsDzU1VhzXwOkC-YXNcpZipR9hsmbE4hq21pFj_JT2cLPDPVwJ30hMmbEzyDFYbd2M-dbUOoY0GUyeSt89K_0g2TjkU1CywHKwfLS_Mmm0OMKQE8qXNoGZEZ-bLAGBEmY/s1600/The+Road+to+Delano+about+the+author.png" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p><span style="font-family: "Cherry Swash"; font-size: 18px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjALr2lT8-9j2JZ1zYO54NCadXOqDQK_rorUOn6c6AGzckjlpfmgegK4J1lGnlXo8yT1ziAvtCNpd7xNO9PCFf8nIn5w0zzdGaVkP1oxhJonrupUAtD1FU1_rCyVL9SY4PwpDw83drllRRqQUkA-Ju4chimfes_F1n9LrEGAWsX8GtxrYDOmoSvQWGj6c0/s394/Patrick%20Kelley%20author.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="394" data-original-width="394" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjALr2lT8-9j2JZ1zYO54NCadXOqDQK_rorUOn6c6AGzckjlpfmgegK4J1lGnlXo8yT1ziAvtCNpd7xNO9PCFf8nIn5w0zzdGaVkP1oxhJonrupUAtD1FU1_rCyVL9SY4PwpDw83drllRRqQUkA-Ju4chimfes_F1n9LrEGAWsX8GtxrYDOmoSvQWGj6c0/s320/Patrick%20Kelley%20author.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Patrick
Kelley was born and raised in Silver Spring, Maryland, and is a
lifelong monster movie fan. He spent his childhood becoming familiar
with the classics like Dracula, The Wolf Man, Frankenstein, King Kong,
the works of Ray Harryhausen, and of course his favorite, Godzilla. His
many other hobbies include sports (particularly Football), movies, and
television, but when he’s not indulging in those activities, he enjoys
spending time with his lovely wife and newborn daughter.<p></p>
<span style="font-family: "Cherry Swash"; font-size: 18px;">Visit Patrick on Twitter at <a href="http://twitter.com/patrickgbook" style="color: black;">http://twitter.com/patrickgbook</a>.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-61125747692614635562023-09-27T05:40:00.003-07:002023-09-27T05:40:41.915-07:00❤Inside the Pages: HATCH: A CHANGE YOUR LIFE GUIDE by Jamie Linn Saloff #bookspotlight #insidethepages<p style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDhRXwMbAXrGJV9QVEpeFiGy_WDIX_Cq9b-j16h2t18klk0GjvnjLkAym6sGt2ggsC0nOEbJwc9AaC6lMUXCTg-tKn3plulDg9CEZ8jYi3o24JlifNnAcPZbvRmvqNi2H57poDRawscC4Ws4q5bp4QEBTvR-4eerJ0rMoRvNHGPi9V9QyhClQYwA2b8Lg/s640/Hatch%2022.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDhRXwMbAXrGJV9QVEpeFiGy_WDIX_Cq9b-j16h2t18klk0GjvnjLkAym6sGt2ggsC0nOEbJwc9AaC6lMUXCTg-tKn3plulDg9CEZ8jYi3o24JlifNnAcPZbvRmvqNi2H57poDRawscC4Ws4q5bp4QEBTvR-4eerJ0rMoRvNHGPi9V9QyhClQYwA2b8Lg/w640-h480/Hatch%2022.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><div class="post-header">
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<p></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="78" data-original-width="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOiIC8VCxt8bzfmkixpHy_9lQSbjzwe1aIin2qRPAQMfLvnpCTkQPImuBPMKc-Jcvy3KeEpb0zy6XH5G1OGdfkuOPZh-hVqVGIgrT5avPriJA_aZvNiu92YGwn_fLXz44aRs2iAa9Si8/s1600/inside+the+pages.png" style="border: medium none; color: #b81a09; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; position: relative;" /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><br /><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV4G7dX9eRZ_JApC_l6ZbJmkFz1fnLUAuy4I-dXHnGKB_XudJQdATrEF0mueTLsA0zoylsS5GLu53nnPsfqkZjHr8c-LLIzX7oUfVPFGdiib_7m1_KAdDNeetZLKxkhnP98Zy4J8RX0ZRe8xNS5ujyt7LVjHC_h9rpZgZpRAzuQTIKvqV-EdD_5s9YpMA/s1588/Hatch%20lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1588" data-original-width="1288" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV4G7dX9eRZ_JApC_l6ZbJmkFz1fnLUAuy4I-dXHnGKB_XudJQdATrEF0mueTLsA0zoylsS5GLu53nnPsfqkZjHr8c-LLIzX7oUfVPFGdiib_7m1_KAdDNeetZLKxkhnP98Zy4J8RX0ZRe8xNS5ujyt7LVjHC_h9rpZgZpRAzuQTIKvqV-EdD_5s9YpMA/s320/Hatch%20lg.jpg" width="260" /></a></div>Title: Hatch: A Change Your Life Guide<br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Author: Jamie Saloff</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publisher: Sent Books</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publication Date: June 25, 2023</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Pages: 384</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Genre: Self-Help/Motivational, Religion/Spirituality, Personal Growth/Personal Transformation </span><p></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/178835135-hatch---a-change-your-life-guide?from_search=true&from_srp=true&qid=wLwdjTMv75&rank=6">
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><b>If you could, how would you change your life?</b> </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">While
bravely facing the motherlode of difficult life challenges, you never
dreamt the result would be a soul-sucking, heart-crushing existence.
</span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Although
you try to ignore the emptiness, detachment, and feeling that you don’t
belong, you rarely make changes. It just seems too impossible for so
many reasons. Instead, you silenced your heart’s nagging with
self-sacrifice, food stuffing, or by becoming a workaholic. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Contemplating
ending her life, Jamie Saloff chose instead to hatch a new one. She
knows how self-doubt and unworthiness can cloud our ability to move
forward after the darkness of illness, grief, trauma, or tragedy –
because she’s faced it too. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><i>In Hatch – A Change Your Life Guide</i>, Saloff walks readers through her step-by-step method to: </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> • Awaken your soul’s purpose by listening to your heart’s voice </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">• Find confidence in your next forward step by hearing your body speak </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">•See messages of guidance everywhere by learning where to look </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> • Uncover your future in your past by examining your ancestral heritage </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> • And much, much more… </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><i>
“It’s a simple question “Do you wish you could change your life for the
better” while the answer is an easy one – do you have any idea of how
to accomplish the task? “Hatch – A Change Your Life Guide” gives you a
systematic process that will take you on a journey of physical,
emotional, and spiritual healing…I highly recommend this wonderful and
enlightening book”</i> – Yolanda Renee</span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><b>Buy Links:</b> </span></p>
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><a href="https://tinyurl.com/3ukyuhk5">Amazon </a>| <a href="https://amzn.to/3NMi66m">B&N</a> | <a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/reflections-on-the-boulevard">Kobo</a> | <a href="https://tinyurl.com/yy2j85xc">BooksAMillion</a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></b></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s454/book+excerpt.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="76" data-original-width="454" height="54" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s320/book+excerpt.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></p><blockquote>As long as I can remember—though I’m not sure why—I’ve been labeled a
misfit—a square peg, a Goonie, an outcast (every generation seems to
have its own word for this). <p></p>
<p>In kindergarten kids laughed at me saying I had a boy’s name. In
elementary school, they said I hadn’t grown up with them, I wasn’t from
there. Or maybe it was because even though I have never been outspoken, I
decided I wouldn’t tolerate the bigoted French teacher and refused to
go back to her class. The principle reprimanded me, called me “a
quitter,” but I wasn’t swayed. I don’t think the kids (or the teacher)
could quite understand that kind of rebellion from a ten-year-old. </p>
<p>Another time, the teacher ordered me into the hallway where she told
me to repeat to the principal what I’d just told her. I explained my
drawing of an aneurysm to him. (Due to cholesterol or other blockage in a
vein, a balloon-like area forms expanding the side of the vein. If it
would burst, my father would have 45 minutes to live.) My teacher didn’t
approve of my mother sharing the details of my father’s illness with a
child. The principal only shrugged.</p>
<p>In middle school, I argued with the principal that, due to a highly
publicized paper shortage, it was stupid to waste it by writing
punishment sentences hundreds of times. I ended up having to run around
the gym in front of my class, which did very little for my already
degraded social status, but it was a win for my cause.</p>
<p>If you’ve been in this position, you know there is no going back.
Once you’re tagged as an outlier, that’s where you stay. As I entered
high school, I wasn’t “the right fit” to be one of the majorettes. They
can give whatever reasons they liked, but I’m pretty sure none of them
had 60 trophies attesting to their ability and, while they were marching
up and down the muddy hometown football field, I performed all over the
world, including for servicemen at Pearl Harbor, in the shadow of
Scotland’s Edinburgh castle, and other cities across the US and Europe.
As they continued buddying up with football players in their cliques, I
was privileged to experience foreign cultures and see historic sites
firsthand instead of reading about them in a text book.</p>
<p>When we are mistreated or outcast by someone, we may blame ourselves.
We falsely wonder, “Am I ugly?” “Fat?” “Horrible?” and all sorts of
self-degrading ideas. This self-blame can cause us to slip into
isolation because we feel unliked or unloved. </p>
<p>Eventually, if you give yourself space, you learn that being a misfit
is a good thing. It allows you to do things your way without others
caring. You may discover you <i>are</i> a bit of a loner, and that’s
okay. This is particularly true for creatives and those who have
suffered for their uniqueness. Yet it is your uniqueness that can make
you great.</p>
<p>It doesn’t matter what labels they put on you. You can’t change their
actions. Instead, you must realize that deep down they know you’re
somehow different in ways they can’t understand. Whether that means you
become a target or are simply ignored, they know there is something
special about you, more specifically, you’re not like them—you’re not
like “everyone else.” And maybe that scares them a little because
they’re afraid to step out of the crowd—and you’re not.</p>
<p>What they sense is that you carry traits offering you the potential
to do great things, even if you don’t realize it or feel like it could
ever be possible. As it turns out, some of the worst things that have
happened in your past, particularly in your youth, formed the exact
survival traits you need to succeed as you trod forward.<sup>1</sup></p>
<p>Despite the obvious definitions of <i>hatch</i>, i.e., “hatching new
life from an egg,” “an escape hatch,” or “hatching a plan,” for readers
of this book “hatch” means all that and more. It means realizing that no
matter what brought you to this point, you have options and choices
available to you <i>right</i> <i>now</i> to help you to Hatch a new and
better life, one worth loving. And it doesn’t matter if they mark you
as “an outcast,” “a misfit,” or whatever else they want to label you
because once you “hatch” it will no longer matter. </p>
<p>Some of you are what I call the “Endurers.” You are still on the
inside of the “egg” feeling trapped and not realizing there is a whole
other, much better life waiting for you “out there.” (It’s hard to see
through those thick-shelled walls.)</p>
<p>Others of you have potentially “hatched” but are now looking at all
the broken pieces of your life. You may be feeling all “Humpty Dumpty”
(who couldn’t put it all back together again) and are wondering, “what
do I do now?” </p>
<p>This book is about how I found myself in those positions and hacked
my way out with very little guidance or direction. With much angst, I
began seeking my way as a young adolescent and continue to machete my
way forward as a senior. </p>
<p>As you read on, in Phase One, you’ll learn how to listen to and follow the longings of your heart. </p>
<p><b>Scratch that.</b> If you knew what your heart wanted and how to
follow it, you wouldn’t be reading this book. You’d be doing it.
Instead, in Phase One you’ll learn how to listen to your body groan and
soul weep. I’ll show you how those nagging little aches and pains,
illnesses, and even accidental injuries can be translated into Marvelous
Messages™ that can help you plan your Hatch. (This is where I had my
first real breakthrough in my life.)</p>
<p><b>In Phase Two</b>, we will circle back to your heart and all it
desires. I’ll teach you ways to identify what your heart’s aching for
you to do and how it ties into your soul’s purpose. Now, having a
clearer idea on what you really desire—(you have known it all along,
you’ve simply silenced it)—you can now set goals and a plan to obtain
it. We’ll take a “look back to leap forward” to understand how some of
the challenges you face today are the result of inherited trials that
were never properly resolved in the generations that came before you.
Lucky you, it’s now your turn to see if you can make it right. But,
you’ll also learn about the gifts implanted within your spiritual DNA to
help you along in your soul’s journey. </p>
<p><b>In Phase Three</b>, we will dig a little deeper. Having opened up
the lines of inner communication, I’ll show you many ways to recognize
and follow your intuition. </p>
<p><b>In Phase Four</b>, we will talk about the hard stuff—those
barriers holding you to where you are now and how to overcome them—fear,
mistaken perceptions, and other beliefs that cloud your mind and
prevent you from being the “you” you came here to be. </p>
<p><b>Lastly, in Phase Five</b>, you’ll see how, once you open these
doors to your body and soul, you not only are creating a new and better
path for your life, you can create a better world. And that is a true
transformation. Let’s begin…</p></blockquote><p></p><p>
</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><p> </p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/s589/about+the+author+7.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="70" data-original-width="589" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/w640-h76/about+the+author+7.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="640" /></span></a></p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><strong></strong></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebKOLvHiPYYVngnVW_OpDXI4wUJzpMRzNcyA43qNu7eTqPiTg6bQkSkCYT7piuk1UsNzft2exWE-Jndufuss14LEFya7HllaRBS8kBF0aCooWayUrh4FftQb_vpnKNLx0XMizAsLrvWXrCk992EJG9GJrltv5FcAvwO4dCo3GK_zRvTi9h_1eLGBBbp8/s410/Jamie%20Saloff%20author.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="410" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiebKOLvHiPYYVngnVW_OpDXI4wUJzpMRzNcyA43qNu7eTqPiTg6bQkSkCYT7piuk1UsNzft2exWE-Jndufuss14LEFya7HllaRBS8kBF0aCooWayUrh4FftQb_vpnKNLx0XMizAsLrvWXrCk992EJG9GJrltv5FcAvwO4dCo3GK_zRvTi9h_1eLGBBbp8/s320/Jamie%20Saloff%20author.jpg" width="320" /></a></strong></div><strong>Jamie Linn Saloff</strong>
is passionate about aiding fiercely independent, misfit, square pegs
trapped in an unfulfilling life. Author, teacher, story weaver,
spiritual counselor, seer of visions, pathfinder, for over thirty years
Jamie’s taught how to reignite your heart by listening to your body
groan and your soul weep. She is the author of twelve books including <em>Hatch: A Change Your Life Guide</em> and her <em>Marvelous Messages™</em> series.<br />
<p></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Author Links </strong> </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><a href="https://www.MarvelousMessages.com">Website</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/JamieSaloff">Facebook</a> | <a href="http://www.facebook.com/JamieLSaloff">Facebook Author Page</a> | <a href="http://twitter.com/JamieSaloff">Twitter</a> | <a href="http://instagram.com/jamie_saloff">Instagram</a> | <a href="http://www.linkedin.com/in/jamiesaloff">LinkedIn</a> | <a href="https://tinyurl.com/38dknc49">Amazon Profile</a></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvK7A_qEk-gbHRLX9VTypLm7iShF2vkd7s54_UDrqxSy3ulc3eRkpifndxH3xKfSO_rZvPDA6olqxJKj9TKwWzGbU9wTzMwhRMPKH9pkC_7jfQtgSWKU3S-uCy6YIIaQDIkoonnln38RAv1dT5sVTwZZOIYDwDSHm7vyk4PhLOFNDQ11yNkUkAex56roA/s723/Hatch%2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="723" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvK7A_qEk-gbHRLX9VTypLm7iShF2vkd7s54_UDrqxSy3ulc3eRkpifndxH3xKfSO_rZvPDA6olqxJKj9TKwWzGbU9wTzMwhRMPKH9pkC_7jfQtgSWKU3S-uCy6YIIaQDIkoonnln38RAv1dT5sVTwZZOIYDwDSHm7vyk4PhLOFNDQ11yNkUkAex56roA/w640-h266/Hatch%2016.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-69261062619796773002023-09-22T06:57:00.001-07:002023-09-22T06:57:15.255-07:00❤Inside the Pages: Reflections on the Boulevard by LJ Ambrosio #bookspotlight <p style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5zFsOMu5pFA7FBs0S76DZoeWgrGi5Xh39NTLChekv_HFsZfTWzgEm2ah5hNQVOud4-fPZe94x95NaFuCM0vMXTZ-YuRMol0MubRZs1z5Att8v2pPxTqcnJPmDdMJWXWcp_iyWWqyDKSY14WlgcglswjaBI1_uEcqKYb3F156W4O-zUNK18bAbGl6vHw/s699/Reflections%20on%20the%20Boulevard%20banner.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="265" data-original-width="699" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5zFsOMu5pFA7FBs0S76DZoeWgrGi5Xh39NTLChekv_HFsZfTWzgEm2ah5hNQVOud4-fPZe94x95NaFuCM0vMXTZ-YuRMol0MubRZs1z5Att8v2pPxTqcnJPmDdMJWXWcp_iyWWqyDKSY14WlgcglswjaBI1_uEcqKYb3F156W4O-zUNK18bAbGl6vHw/w548-h207/Reflections%20on%20the%20Boulevard%20banner.jpg" width="548" /></a></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Cherry Swash;"></span></span><p></p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name">
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<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1494820207040531290" itemprop="articleBody">
<div><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span><span id="docs-internal-guid-dca85a89-7fff-f0bc-6f53-cb4541c38e9c" style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Cherry Swash;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Michael’s story continues from A Reservoir Man (2022) where we find him teaching at a university ready to retire. He unexpectedly meets a young man named Ron who becomes his protege and journeys in a haphazard adventure with him throughout America and Europe, each twist and turn of the road bringing unexpected adventures...</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Cherry Swash;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLY_vtNXFJz6OcOpHpExotGT9BYU2aI5utIr0z9QirAjbz0DiQ8OmatMU_yyM0nZdzlWjqoH7m_xt_BDlsozgLX08RMaaTtKf5XHDFOo7iIw_6UE3OGG5fJYoSiO9LIZQbzq120ZbVTqq_4Vi_nq9h7M8dOPWEUjtG-KPnDfhFus40zq-lubKXEEPKSw/s722/Reflections.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="722" data-original-width="531" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLY_vtNXFJz6OcOpHpExotGT9BYU2aI5utIr0z9QirAjbz0DiQ8OmatMU_yyM0nZdzlWjqoH7m_xt_BDlsozgLX08RMaaTtKf5XHDFOo7iIw_6UE3OGG5fJYoSiO9LIZQbzq120ZbVTqq_4Vi_nq9h7M8dOPWEUjtG-KPnDfhFus40zq-lubKXEEPKSw/w470-h640/Reflections.png" width="470" /></a></span></div><p></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><i><span id="docs-internal-guid-eb81b19d-7fff-6c60-4942-8a06c392af73" style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></span></i></p><p></p><p id="docs-internal-guid-163e1e2f-7fff-e74d-c102-93300b4c5efb" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Cherry Swash;"></span></span></p><p></p><p id="docs-internal-guid-163e1e2f-7fff-e74d-c102-93300b4c5efb" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-4228c015-7fff-45a9-8d05-3a252dc97f26" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.5pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><p></p><p id="docs-internal-guid-163e1e2f-7fff-e74d-c102-93300b4c5efb" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Cherry Swash;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-73aceb05-7fff-a7b8-7299-7b7e161268cb" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span></p><p></p><p></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arvo; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-family: Oswald;"><span></span></span></b></span></p></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-family: Oswald;"><span></span></span></b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-family: Oswald;"><span><span></span></span></span></b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-family: Oswald;"><span><span></span></span></span></b></span><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Title: Reflections on the Boulevard</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Author: LJ Ambrosio</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publisher: Film Valor</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publication Date: June 7, 2023</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Pages: 238</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Genre: Fictional Buddy Adventure / Coming of Age</span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/139429382-reflections-on-the-boulevard?from_search=true&from_srp=true&qid=f9aRH2TESe&rank=1">
<span class="pibfi_pinterest">
<img alt="goodreads add to" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-99113" height="41" src="http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/08/goodreads-add-to.png" width="130" />
</span>
</a></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Michael’s story continues from <i>A Reservoir Man</i>
(2022) where we find him teaching at a university ready to retire. He
unexpectedly meets a young man named Ron who becomes his protege and
journeys in a haphazard adventure with him throughout America and
Europe, each twist and turn of the road bringing unexpected adventures.
The journey taken is one of joy, friendship and discovery. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><b>Buy Links:</b> </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><a href="https://tinyurl.com/4tsz5ft6">Amazon </a>| <a href="https://books.apple.com/us/book/reflections-on-the-boulevard/id6448296429">Apple </a>| <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/reflections-on-the-boulevard-lj-ambrosio/1143396462?ean=2940167436961">B&N</a> | <a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/reflections-on-the-boulevard">Kobo</a> | <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1384458">Smashwords</a> | <a href="https://www.ljambrosio.com/reflections-on-the-boulevard">Author’s Website</a> | <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/books/reflections-on-the-boulevard-reflections-of-michael-trilogy-book-2-by-l-j-ambrosio">Bookbub</a><br />
</span></p>
<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4HyLQ0z_lM5OnCUYFiSzgbuvPX_gbdvoh1As7UTl942q7HM7sf5c0XuLJjijuLjzYuWbjon4BM_F6CGskuQNwQ2H4dXLqdzGI8y3UpYl3kna2T2l4uVOU3H-UIKqJMxfuD5oo7l9aGh9VAl0RuFnYsePa7cyv20YoOrbg3CWF0zQ8U5yWe0VEDIPVyw/s640/Reflections%20on%20the%20Boulevard%2010.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4HyLQ0z_lM5OnCUYFiSzgbuvPX_gbdvoh1As7UTl942q7HM7sf5c0XuLJjijuLjzYuWbjon4BM_F6CGskuQNwQ2H4dXLqdzGI8y3UpYl3kna2T2l4uVOU3H-UIKqJMxfuD5oo7l9aGh9VAl0RuFnYsePa7cyv20YoOrbg3CWF0zQ8U5yWe0VEDIPVyw/w595-h446/Reflections%20on%20the%20Boulevard%2010.jpg" width="595" /></a></div><br /><p></p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p></p><p></p><p></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-bb2c3c93-7fff-81ba-616c-dcad5ef352a7" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: -0.1pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 0pt 0.1pt; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.1pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Cherry Swash;"><span><b>Book Excerpt</b></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> </span></p><p>
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<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhouNyKfJQ2dTIUI6xNvr6mwYmHDUXb6TQuAylZ9EkDmPISwmxfxyM-a6hn8mPwO1oJmcFC6wYZXysQF9DadcQxGYEDfkd878VV28vfgcEkwd7kAeUGanzePVdPYuKy1nn6sy6atJrTH60mODAfD86udM7xD3GPOrTuEDYyDwxVF-XVNPxUNcTJ1UM6_A/s1158/Reflections%208.gif" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1158" data-original-width="400" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhouNyKfJQ2dTIUI6xNvr6mwYmHDUXb6TQuAylZ9EkDmPISwmxfxyM-a6hn8mPwO1oJmcFC6wYZXysQF9DadcQxGYEDfkd878VV28vfgcEkwd7kAeUGanzePVdPYuKy1nn6sy6atJrTH60mODAfD86udM7xD3GPOrTuEDYyDwxVF-XVNPxUNcTJ1UM6_A/w222-h640/Reflections%208.gif" width="222" /></a></div>As the ferry entered the river, one would barely know they were sailing. The breeze brushed against his face; he saw the water pass him just as life had. He looked at the stern of the ferry seeing all his relationships, career, and spirituality disappear in an endless stream of the river, moving them away but not forgotten. Michael felt as if the bow moving upriver was pushing towards his future with the thrust of a young man stealing second base.<p></p>
<p>From the corner of his eyes, he saw a well-built, nice looking young man, nerdy, longish dirty blonde hair that either needed cutting or a ponytail.</p>
<p>He was talking to himself, no, Michael thought, “he is talking on the phone.” But no, the young man was actually talking to himself, or a bird. Suddenly, the young man saw Michael and flashed a small smile.</p>
<p>“Oh no I have been here too many times; those moments are up the river,” thought Michael. The young man approached Michael asking if he knew him.</p>
<p>“I could not imagine how,” said Michael, in disbelief.</p>
<p>“Yes,” the young man said, “in the park near the university. You were always reading on that same bench. I remember when the pigeons shit on your book and once on your jacket; the whole bench was full of shit,” the young man said with a slight devilish smile.</p>
<p>“Right!” said Michael. “Are you getting off here?”</p>
<p>“In the middle of the river, how could I?”</p>
<p>“You could always try,” said Michael, with a slight but cold smile.</p>
<p></p><p> </p><br /><p></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRxvsREgQpl78FK66fVvtaTY6a67Pgp3GmySkG5u4eKOWRqNT9wFrsfIq-j-6majZGSernCOjXtBJAmamWyYB1O724XhUq0Igp5GFG0O_WJA0uE0TdQrYXy83n4H6jP4mzU__UOplSGefWJY48wt7fO4_Cu_JIUXb3rIv1CjRlzTmaCaFcGnz8zI7efw/s640/Reflections%20on%20the%20Boulevard%2011.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRxvsREgQpl78FK66fVvtaTY6a67Pgp3GmySkG5u4eKOWRqNT9wFrsfIq-j-6majZGSernCOjXtBJAmamWyYB1O724XhUq0Igp5GFG0O_WJA0uE0TdQrYXy83n4H6jP4mzU__UOplSGefWJY48wt7fO4_Cu_JIUXb3rIv1CjRlzTmaCaFcGnz8zI7efw/w565-h424/Reflections%20on%20the%20Boulevard%2011.jpg" width="565" /></a></div><br /><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1494820207040531290" itemprop="articleBody"><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #222222; font-family: Arvo; font-size: 15.4px; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Cherry Swash;"><b><span><span>About the Author</span></span></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWPJPXp0ntk52ul8eKfmy4DgEmMWspWdJGMr_pSyitil6_Bt37xrhnyPBqceZQZDI0splDBm3YLtG4iCZRU47hdQn6czy7iNCFJ_h4AELwzxNCCz6Na6d6WvFZ9p4PVsDdNkQe1dHkxoZAgGfDrr0HuUxG9iwp-EajJ-qp9pXeavwsej7z7x7EKj8tXQ/s410/LJ%20Ambrosio%20author.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="410" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWPJPXp0ntk52ul8eKfmy4DgEmMWspWdJGMr_pSyitil6_Bt37xrhnyPBqceZQZDI0splDBm3YLtG4iCZRU47hdQn6czy7iNCFJ_h4AELwzxNCCz6Na6d6WvFZ9p4PVsDdNkQe1dHkxoZAgGfDrr0HuUxG9iwp-EajJ-qp9pXeavwsej7z7x7EKj8tXQ/w400-h400/LJ%20Ambrosio%20author.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Cherry Swash;"><br /><b><span></span></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Cherry Swash;"><b></b></span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Louis
J. Ambrosio ran one of the most nurturing bi-coastal talent agencies in
Los Angeles and New York. He started his career as a theatrical
producer, running two major regional theaters for eight seasons. He
taught at over 7 universities in America. Ambrosio also distinguished
himself as an award-winning film producer and novelist over the course
of his impressive career. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><b>Author Links </b> </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><a href="https://www.ljambrosio.com">Website</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/louis.ambrosio">Facebook </a>| <a href="https://twitter.com/authorlambrosio">Twitter </a>| <a href="https://www.instagram.com/ljambrosioauthor/">Instagram</a> | <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/ljambrosio">Tumblr </a>| <a href="https://linktr.ee/ljambrosio">Universal Link</a></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/08/giveaway-books.png">
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">LJ Ambrosio giving away one $20 Amazon Gift Card & an Autographed Copy of Reflections on the Boulevard!</h2>
<p style="text-align: center;"><b>Terms & Conditions:</b></p>
<ul style="text-align: center;"><li>By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.</li><li>Two winners will be chosen via Rafflecopter to receive either a $20
Amazon Gift Card or an autographed copy of Reflections on the Boulevard.</li><li>This giveaway starts August 28 and ends September 22.</li><li>Winner will be contacted via email on September 23.</li><li>Winner has 48 hours to reply.</li></ul>
<p style="text-align: center;">Good luck everyone!</p>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">ENTER TO WIN!</h3><p style="text-align: center;"><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="1a49cf61258" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/1a49cf61258/" id="rcwidget_239beu9u" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
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<br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii7tR8d-n8ro1NHlVYk-6CuU-eMEBE3P8WvZsIaET1CZJps2KBCt0DiW9coJWcG1w-qnxPzIQb0uKjew-7MnBCOJvitGK1pFwMvoh5RMrw-59ogyK8KolwJfhSk4sOiUpeCQk0X84Yo6EQ4NDCjMvT_pM4CTWKSwp9V17HUv8G2h_QNg8sa5WHPl0HtmA/s640/Precious%20Burdens%208.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii7tR8d-n8ro1NHlVYk-6CuU-eMEBE3P8WvZsIaET1CZJps2KBCt0DiW9coJWcG1w-qnxPzIQb0uKjew-7MnBCOJvitGK1pFwMvoh5RMrw-59ogyK8KolwJfhSk4sOiUpeCQk0X84Yo6EQ4NDCjMvT_pM4CTWKSwp9V17HUv8G2h_QNg8sa5WHPl0HtmA/w640-h480/Precious%20Burdens%208.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-3062120283122918212" itemprop="description articleBody"><br /><p></p><div class="post-header">
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<p></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="78" data-original-width="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOiIC8VCxt8bzfmkixpHy_9lQSbjzwe1aIin2qRPAQMfLvnpCTkQPImuBPMKc-Jcvy3KeEpb0zy6XH5G1OGdfkuOPZh-hVqVGIgrT5avPriJA_aZvNiu92YGwn_fLXz44aRs2iAa9Si8/s1600/inside+the+pages.png" style="border: medium none; color: #b81a09; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; position: relative;" /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG7DysM1QT02ud837mgSAnNpT0F459tph2KCcD9DavhSMbp-CxmXPbRd-kkNDH5gCWUd3iTF6dIlAj4FL562BzM6LX8r9w3GtG4YZhyXnbPY96vSF0ddBGQn0EEvRrrJb5FCIqF7l6t1GTYhwBjE-A9IPYX8pW5TeebsZVn7sU9XMYX3oFJU9gPovXYcw/s620/Precious%20Burdens.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="430" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG7DysM1QT02ud837mgSAnNpT0F459tph2KCcD9DavhSMbp-CxmXPbRd-kkNDH5gCWUd3iTF6dIlAj4FL562BzM6LX8r9w3GtG4YZhyXnbPY96vSF0ddBGQn0EEvRrrJb5FCIqF7l6t1GTYhwBjE-A9IPYX8pW5TeebsZVn7sU9XMYX3oFJU9gPovXYcw/w278-h400/Precious%20Burdens.png" width="278" /></a></div><br />Title: Precious Burdens<br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Author: Avery Sterling</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publisher: The Wild Rose Press</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Pages: 324</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Genre: Historical Romance </span><p></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Sarafina di Ramonicci sets sail for America as the promised bride in an arranged political marriage. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Taken
prisoner at sea, she clashes with her captor and demands freedom, only
to discover he is planning her future husband’s demise, with her as a
pawn in their deadly feud. The challenge of escape tests her loyalty to
family, human decency, and love. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Captain
Nye Tarquin is a dangerous man. Left to die on the streets of New
Orleans, he swears retribution on the man responsible. When he makes
Sarafina part of his plan, he isn’t prepared for the fiery vixen aboard
his ship, nor his desire to claim her as his own. When passion overtakes
honor, he’s torn between his heart and his need for justice. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Amazon: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Precious-Burdens-Avery-Sterling-ebook/dp/B0C8VHNH3V">https://www.amazon.com/Precious-Burdens-Avery-Sterling-ebook/dp/B0C8VHNH3V</a> </span></p>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Barnes & Noble: <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/precious-burdens-avery-sterling/1143685468?ean=2940160809335">https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/precious-burdens-avery-sterling/1143685468?ean=2940160809335</a></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></b></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s454/book+excerpt.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="76" data-original-width="454" height="54" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s320/book+excerpt.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></p><blockquote>A grin formed on his lips. “She belongs to me now,” he said, his voice
was as cool as his expression. “And when Cornell comes for her, I’ll be
waiting to return the favor… only I’ll succeed, where he did not.” <p></p>
<p> Sarafina’s fingers curled around her goblet. “What makes you think he’ll come for her?” </p>
<p> “He has several reasons to take the bait. Cornell will demand satisfaction for his humiliation.” </p>
<p> “His humiliation?” She sat up straighter. “What about hers? Do you
understand what people will think when they find out she was held
hostage here? If her intended is murdered and she’s left stranded, this
will leave her utterly alone. What will become of her, then?” </p>
<p> “She’ll marry someone better than the likes of Cornell, I hope,” he replied dryly. </p>
<p> She slammed her goblet down and flew to her feet. “And who would want her?” </p>
<p> He remained seated. “I’m doing her a great service,” he said
calmly, leaning on the arm of his chair. “You have no idea the kind of
life she would’ve been subjected to.” </p>
<p> “So, you're her savior now?” </p>
<p> The captain pushed off his chair, and straightened to his full
height. She kept her glare locked with his, but keeping it steady was
becoming as difficult as her breathing. “Maybe,” he said. </p>
<p> “That’s an absurd notion,” she replied. </p>
<p> “Is it?” he asked. He stepped towards her, and she stepped back in unison, until the back of her legs hit the chair.</p></blockquote><p></p><p>
</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><p> </p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/s589/about+the+author+7.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="70" data-original-width="589" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/w640-h76/about+the+author+7.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="640" /></span></a></p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdBdLjAa5gHGDSIvB-YDdqBiLja7rGbGbCNdEcsysxjax9beHbSHw_sdmT3ZMaGcMitIGTIl4xuNxTKmeCLXwtAqOOQnBY-7cmtnX4LZXh5hZc89wOuoq3T4cbpsuL9VyZGiGPLNPI4a8N7CkjpTNIUJOSlBXa_exDaqZGJkaJMMiiYxtbOwzARQeYw8/s525/Avery%20Sterling%20author.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="413" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdBdLjAa5gHGDSIvB-YDdqBiLja7rGbGbCNdEcsysxjax9beHbSHw_sdmT3ZMaGcMitIGTIl4xuNxTKmeCLXwtAqOOQnBY-7cmtnX4LZXh5hZc89wOuoq3T4cbpsuL9VyZGiGPLNPI4a8N7CkjpTNIUJOSlBXa_exDaqZGJkaJMMiiYxtbOwzARQeYw8/s320/Avery%20Sterling%20author.jpg" width="252" /></a></div>Avery Sterling’s love
for the romance genre began in her teen years when she picked up her
first novel. She was captivated by the sweeping scale of emotions
brought about by the words. The experience catapulted her towards
learning the art of wielding a breathtaking adventure, with a love that
felt authentic. Wanting to inspire people with her own thoughts and
words, she finished her first novel at sixteen. It was a step towards
understanding the essence of what she wished to create. <p></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Most of her youth was
spent traveling, searching out the romance and beauty in her
everchanging world. From the waves that crashed against the rocky shores
of Downeast, Maine, to the warm breezes of the Caribbean, she
discovered that love was universal, apparent in its grandest and
simplest of forms. Her goal is to write novels an audience can relate
to, one that conveys the truth and nature of love…with all the steamy
romance. </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Website: <a href="http://www.avery-sterling.com">http://www.avery-sterling.com </a> </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Twitter: <a href="http://www.twitter.com/averysterling17">http://www.twitter.com/averysterling17 </a> </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/avery.sterling.125?eav=AfaEN0SdTOOmVInfsysAoPRLYUanLZ1olr4QWTIjYzwm85tfJ7Ij6rQhS1Qf5oXnK7k&paipv=0&_rdr">https://www.facebook.com/avery.sterling.125?eav=AfaEN0SdTOOmVInfsysAoPRLYUanLZ1olr4QWTIjYzwm85tfJ7Ij6rQhS1Qf5oXnK7k&paipv=0&_rdr </a> </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Instagram: <a href="http://www.instagram.com/Avery.Sterling17">http://www.instagram.com/Avery.Sterling17</a></span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19674760.Avery_Sterling">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19674760.Avery_Sterling </a> </span></p><p>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Bookbub: <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/profile/avery-sterling">https://www.bookbub.com/profile/avery-sterling</a></span></p><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh15AUkp37MV_rZscPWA51Amc4JhbdMtu5N4mSNnQl1nfmq8xCvyUS1yAR6OsmGV0W6dEi5ljJa0e25a-Y_9-0EysgeH8jJMKCKJwdWMaHlKpk0SFgV32JqyRahaxZ6SB9AerE50iDhQj6SQffZQ8ctyjZaeucQ8EUE2vL1EO8FHT4QPVUZyZ6g46k6sLk/s791/Precious%20Burdens%2019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="791" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh15AUkp37MV_rZscPWA51Amc4JhbdMtu5N4mSNnQl1nfmq8xCvyUS1yAR6OsmGV0W6dEi5ljJa0e25a-Y_9-0EysgeH8jJMKCKJwdWMaHlKpk0SFgV32JqyRahaxZ6SB9AerE50iDhQj6SQffZQ8ctyjZaeucQ8EUE2vL1EO8FHT4QPVUZyZ6g46k6sLk/w640-h310/Precious%20Burdens%2019.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-37335219121887520642023-09-17T21:00:00.001-07:002023-09-17T21:00:00.143-07:00❤Inside the Pages: Home Rule: Book III of The Tribal Wars by Stella Atrium #bookspotlight @satriumwrites<p> </p><div class="post-header">
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<p></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="78" data-original-width="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOiIC8VCxt8bzfmkixpHy_9lQSbjzwe1aIin2qRPAQMfLvnpCTkQPImuBPMKc-Jcvy3KeEpb0zy6XH5G1OGdfkuOPZh-hVqVGIgrT5avPriJA_aZvNiu92YGwn_fLXz44aRs2iAa9Si8/s1600/inside+the+pages.png" style="border: medium none; color: #b81a09; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; position: relative;" /></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></b></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f;"></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAcUQyiWS9jRysTiN7XcrpW-mK5HB0UlQUAbMTy2S5Jqf54ioCes1fzl_E0-OYtgs_pSDIYjc3oJDKqryBDBFxTcR3RqEG3-Wa5Z-8IYG8OcTa95VoOGf2otXhVoXeto-UWvNfUq1BsGVedhDJHRzGkrRZQLnWekck90C8DmVJq3UFvSaJPXx5uBqNCfM/s598/Home%20Rule%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="378" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAcUQyiWS9jRysTiN7XcrpW-mK5HB0UlQUAbMTy2S5Jqf54ioCes1fzl_E0-OYtgs_pSDIYjc3oJDKqryBDBFxTcR3RqEG3-Wa5Z-8IYG8OcTa95VoOGf2otXhVoXeto-UWvNfUq1BsGVedhDJHRzGkrRZQLnWekck90C8DmVJq3UFvSaJPXx5uBqNCfM/s320/Home%20Rule%20cover.jpg" width="202" /></a></div>Title: Home Rule: Book 3 of The Tribal Wars<br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Author: Stella Atrium</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publisher: Stella Atrium Writes LLC</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Pages: 458</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Genre: Science Fiction <br /></span><p></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Sarafina
di Ramonicc In book 3 of the award-winning series, photojournalist
Hershel Henry witnesses the loss by self-torching of tribal women. The
Madquii and Gora tribes have laid siege to the city of Urbyd, and
Brianna Miller must seek a peace treaty. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Kelly
Osborn travels to Stargate Junction to set the wedding of ambassador
Otieno. Hershel Henry opens a gazette to report on pending elections for
home rule, but then shocking events upset their plans. </span></p>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Amazon: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C44QT91N">https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C44QT91N</a></span></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s454/book+excerpt.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="76" data-original-width="454" height="54" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s320/book+excerpt.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></p>Dkar was my landlord in Cylay. A Putuki man with bulging eyes that
judged everything, he owned a converted warehouse eight blocks from the
governor’s house, if you can call them blocks. I paid rent for two rooms
above the storefront where Cylahi-constructed furniture was sold to the
newly rich residents of the Putuki city section. People on the street
did not bother me much, sometimes to beg alms. My rooms were tossed and
robbed, however, whenever I left to pursue a news story. <p></p>
<p>Aging and maimed warriors lingered in Cylay; desperate women with
toddlers, free-roaming fowl and pigs. Electricity came on for two hours a
day and the faucets never worked. Rabbenu Ely and the Putuki bazaari
still held authority in Cylay, but rabbenu provided few services to the
people. Unblessed ones, as poor residents were called, understood little
of where the city funds originated and why foreign aid arrived at the
governor’s mansion. </p>
<p>I was in Dkar’s office to lodge a complaint about being robbed again.
Dkar sat in a squeaky chair behind a desk scrounged from an abandoned
hotel. “The thefts are friendliness, Hershel Henry,” he said. “Their way
of saying that you are useful to them.”</p>
<p>“Look, if you refuse to take my complaint seriously—” </p>
<p>“I like you, Softcheeks,” he interrupted. “You can feel safe here.
Safe as long as you allow the activity. If you should bother Putuki
police about the theft, well . . . that’s different, huh?”</p>
<p>“Is that a threat? Are you making a threat?”</p>
<p>“I want to help you, Henry. I’m helping here. Tomorrow we go to the
bazaar, and there we find your solution.” Dkar leaned forward with a
grin, showing the absence of two teeth on the left side. “Trust me.” </p>
<p>I had washed the insect repellent from my hair and beard, now a
silvery blond against tan skin. I wore the dungarees and shirt of the
clutch of Kenru, provided to me when I first visited Uburu land. I had a
field vest with notepad and light meter. And I constantly wore the
sheathed beltknife that was a gift, more for show against the hungry
eyes of local beggars than for soldiering. </p>
<p>I was forced to keep my cameras and everything but a change of
clothes at the hotel Press Club. John Milan and other journalists jeered
at me for preferring to live among the people, and I was beginning to
get the message. </p>
<p>“You got a woman, Henry?” Doug Endicott guessed when I was sharing
drinks with John Milan and Regan Villines at the Press Club. Endicott
was the network dog who parceled out paychecks.</p>
<p>I squinted at his smirk. “Just closer to events.”</p>
<p>“You stink of that slum,” Endicott complained. “You bring their diseases in here.”</p>
<p>“I’ll try not to infect the tribes with your attitude.” </p>
<p>“Why did you even come to Westend?” Endicott demanded. “What was it,
Henry? The lure of exotic locales, or running away from a broken heart?”</p>
<p>“Where I come from, everything is broken. The savannah tribes have a purpose.”</p>
<p>Endicott shook his head slightly. “So . . . it’s the romance thing.
Your tour will end six months early. Mark my words. You’ll shake with
malaria chills for a decade.”</p>
<p>“Maybe not. Australian pioneer stock.”</p>
<p>“An urban pioneer?” Endicott realized his drink was empty and stepped to the bar for a refill. </p>
<p>The comtech over the bar had the volume turned down, but the news
clip replayed Rabbenu Ely announcing a new business in Cylay for an
upstart stock exchange. The rotund rabbenu wore a dark suit and blue
silk sash to designate his office. Ely made a stately stroll down a
gilded hallway to step up to the podium and face reporters. Three suited
Putuki men and General Sector in a starched uniform, head of Consortium
peace-keeping troops in Cylay, crowded behind Ely. </p>
<p>“Ely has gained weight,” Regan said derisively. “And he chose blue for that sash.”</p>
<p>“Why blue?” I asked.</p>
<p> “Blue is forbidden on the savannah,” Regan said, seated
shoulder-to-shoulder with me. “In honor of the blue macaw, the god-agent
of Rularim.”</p>
<p>“What’s a god-agent?” I asked. </p>
<p>“You have much to learn about the tribes, Henry.” John Milan said.
“It’s like a witch has a black cat, but some animals can share dream
images with favorites.”</p>
<p>“With you?” I asked him. </p>
<p>John made a snorting noise and looked around for the waiter. He sighed and went to the bar to order, lingering with Endicott. </p>
<p>“Why does General Sector lend himself to this charade?” Regan asked
as she watched the comtech news. “That’s the real question.” </p>
<p>We saw Ely encourage a shorter man in a blue suit to step up to the podium, further crowding the ministers. </p>
<p>“Manenowski! Can you believe it?” Regan said. Her weathered face and
khaki clothes tagged her as a veteran reporter. “He was promoted to
captain under General Sector,” she added. “He resigned his commission
for this new position as a stock trader. And Sector just stands there,
like that turncoat act was nothing at all. Man, this job will make you
cynical.”</p>
<p>John returned with drinks for him and Regan but not for me. I took
the hint. I headed out from the Press Club, just catching Regan’s
comment as she speculated to John Milan, “How much different from
Henry’s station in Australia is that slum alleyway?”</p><p>
</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><p> </p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/s589/about+the+author+7.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="70" data-original-width="589" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/w640-h76/about+the+author+7.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="640" /></span></a></p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCL3qwf4wdrU-8zsXfP_p-o8RVFgqtTp2F-ot_yqs6DY9v0ihEdvnsX1tRMKV8Qztasxbt4PY6sb4JD6htQ6ZiKKu4QB9nsWPkvy0YeoTdIoB168a4ym2r8QEXxxLWZ3cEbnwp8qF5WXxS0cH-gYOWW_6NpAKecdtCPCKQR4IYIbk7pkoe2xP7icCrvU/s438/Stella%20Atrium%20author.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="438" data-original-width="359" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCL3qwf4wdrU-8zsXfP_p-o8RVFgqtTp2F-ot_yqs6DY9v0ihEdvnsX1tRMKV8Qztasxbt4PY6sb4JD6htQ6ZiKKu4QB9nsWPkvy0YeoTdIoB168a4ym2r8QEXxxLWZ3cEbnwp8qF5WXxS0cH-gYOWW_6NpAKecdtCPCKQR4IYIbk7pkoe2xP7icCrvU/s320/Stella%20Atrium%20author.jpg" width="262" /></a></div>Stella Atrium is writing <em>The Tribal Wars</em>
series. The first trilogy is available as ebooks and in print. BookLife
has awarded the Editor’s Pick designation for each book upon its
release. <p></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><em>Home Rule</em>
rounds out the first trilogy and received first place in the 2023
Artisan Book Review Awards for Science Fiction and Fantasy. </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Book 4 titled <em>Tribal Logic</em> is scheduled for release in early 2024. Also be certain to pick up Atrium’s standalone novel <em>Seven Beyond</em> that won a 2014 Reader’s Favorites award in science fiction. </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Website: <a href="https://stellaatrium.com">https://stellaatrium.com </a> </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Twitter: <a href="https://www.twitter.com/SAtriumWrites">https://www.twitter.com/SAtriumWrites </a></span></p><p>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/SAtriumWrites">https://www.facebook.com/SAtriumWrites</a></span></p><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwYGiELejfDHqDyWCWEoMwA4s1nxN0ALBSUWhP03bIHpb7ytcSVYNu5bwFFJiYpHRXUy5rEjuT9NinOcKjKE2JMcO6NISmkLruOiSDAMFPEvn7UChrodELuL2CQqldZ2wzIm8q-d_ODunU3fYLrQx_o7NQn9yy3y24-vw4cGRVrXvBBuZQJ7QFndeyLmM/s702/Home%20Rule%2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="702" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwYGiELejfDHqDyWCWEoMwA4s1nxN0ALBSUWhP03bIHpb7ytcSVYNu5bwFFJiYpHRXUy5rEjuT9NinOcKjKE2JMcO6NISmkLruOiSDAMFPEvn7UChrodELuL2CQqldZ2wzIm8q-d_ODunU3fYLrQx_o7NQn9yy3y24-vw4cGRVrXvBBuZQJ7QFndeyLmM/w640-h274/Home%20Rule%2014.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-22349953056140679882023-08-24T21:00:00.002-07:002023-08-24T21:00:00.140-07:00❤Author Interview: 'The Adversary Chronicles' Randy C. Dockens #authorinterview #scifi #Christian<p> </p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name"><a href="https://nuttinbutbooks2.blogspot.com/2023/07/author-interview-five-watches-john-r.html"></a>
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<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQdGQKzzdOO0KRPGUw4W1QW2rjimxAGAhyghsa_uPrFnKvwUWgucAq-9VNoeLEWdPweOuPZJKp3qrFueZOgO4hwlWcunyPUWFBxzk-P8G76KysfUfvuh9Fjcm1m2XjR20NxrOY0rahtnGy3j0dSbnX3HNJCMFmhMohoyZWvWdg1LpUzJ87Eww96JS7ym8/s794/Randy%20Dockens%20lg.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="794" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQdGQKzzdOO0KRPGUw4W1QW2rjimxAGAhyghsa_uPrFnKvwUWgucAq-9VNoeLEWdPweOuPZJKp3qrFueZOgO4hwlWcunyPUWFBxzk-P8G76KysfUfvuh9Fjcm1m2XjR20NxrOY0rahtnGy3j0dSbnX3HNJCMFmhMohoyZWvWdg1LpUzJ87Eww96JS7ym8/s320/Randy%20Dockens%20lg.jpg" width="282" /></a></div>Dr. Randy C. Dockens
has a fascination with science and with the Bible, holds Ph.D. degrees
in both areas, and is a man not only of faith and science, but also of
creativity. He believes that faith and science go hand in hand without
being enemies of each other. <p></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">After completing his
bachelor’s degree in pharmacy from Auburn University he went on to
graduate school at Auburn and completed his first doctorate degree in
Pharmaceutics. He began his scientific career as a pharmacokinetic
reviewer for the Food and Drug Administration and later joined a leading
pharmaceutical company as a pharmacokineticist, which is a scientist
who analyzes how the human body affects drugs after they have been
administered (i.e., absorbed, distributed, metabolized, and excreted). </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Through the years, he
has worked on potential medicines within several disease areas,
including cardiovascular, fibrosis, and immunoscience to see and develop
new and novel medicines in these therapy areas. </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">He has also had his
attention on the academic study of the Bible. He earned a second
doctorate in Biblical Prophecy from Louisiana Baptist University after
receiving a master’s degree in Jewish Studies from the Internet Bible
Institute under the tutelage of Dr. Robert Congdon. </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Randy has recently
retired from his pharmaceutical career and is spending even more time on
his writing efforts. He has written several books that span dystopian,
end-time prophecy, science fiction, and uniquely told Bible stories. All
his books, while fun to read, are futuristic, filled with science to
give them an authentic feel, have a science fiction feel to them, and
allows one to learn some aspect of Biblical truth one may not have
thought about before. This is all done in a fast-paced action format
that is both entertaining and provides a fun read for his readers. </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Website:<a href="https://www.randydockens.com"> https://www.randydockens.com </a></span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Twitter: <a href="http://www.twitter.com/RandyCDockens">www.twitter.com/RandyCDockens</a> </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Facebook: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/Randy.C.Dockens">www.facebook.com/Randy.C.Dockens </a> </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16453941">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16453941 </a> </span></p>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Instagram: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/randydockens/">https://www.instagram.com/randydockens/</a></span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-8971611944784384887" itemprop="description articleBody"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QhK2Lx2l19ojhMwANoiqMj9UnJ0lGxlHgzIrtg_F3kBi-wptt9PEGc66L59T0pEfq-tpnjtBLaYRezypzsQEEr-_wD9dlXEReTVhXXMyxgnb3TyZITF69NOI-cM0I33aoFsHRIUKEKM/s1600/interview+7.png" style="color: #b81a09; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="69" data-original-width="335" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QhK2Lx2l19ojhMwANoiqMj9UnJ0lGxlHgzIrtg_F3kBi-wptt9PEGc66L59T0pEfq-tpnjtBLaYRezypzsQEEr-_wD9dlXEReTVhXXMyxgnb3TyZITF69NOI-cM0I33aoFsHRIUKEKM/s320/interview+7.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span>
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</p><p><b><span style="font-size: large;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg42vPSxuCizCphEDMx58TjG_0SYFqWlWkfnKTL9RNBUhvW3J0ixlhlvWDaTEg-jvxhcpFcTP7w_gKPnmKgBRDQBuTmhB9auAKcSEAJKW2_Vym1sRX3CicojEviwyO5kRSyKMJzqe7fljIpdfaHT1l2UHoLPS2hq2-5AwB3qA6tfnWjQGvoX2acs0Tj4lk/s1275/Rebellion%20in%20the%20Stones%20of%20Fire%20lg.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1275" data-original-width="825" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg42vPSxuCizCphEDMx58TjG_0SYFqWlWkfnKTL9RNBUhvW3J0ixlhlvWDaTEg-jvxhcpFcTP7w_gKPnmKgBRDQBuTmhB9auAKcSEAJKW2_Vym1sRX3CicojEviwyO5kRSyKMJzqe7fljIpdfaHT1l2UHoLPS2hq2-5AwB3qA6tfnWjQGvoX2acs0Tj4lk/s320/Rebellion%20in%20the%20Stones%20of%20Fire%20lg.jpg" width="207" /></a></span></b></div><b><span style="font-size: large;">When you wrote your first book, <i>Rebellion in the Stone of Fire</i>, did you have any idea it would blossom into a 4-book series?</span></b><p></p>
<p> The short answer is no. The idea for the first book came from my
research for a class I was going to teach at my church. The topic:
M-theory, or the theory of everything, which purports that there are
eleven dimensions, where each higher dimension contains all the elements
of the lower dimension plus an additional element. I know that is a
strange topic for a Bible class, but this topic got me to think about
what the Bible may say about dimensions. I mean, after all, if the Bible
speaks truth, then would it support the idea of eleven dimensions? That
idea piqued my interest and was the start of the journey to this first
book of this series.</p>
<p> M-theory states the order of dimensions are the following: first
(length), second (breadth), third (height), fourth (time), fifth (time
travel), sixth (multiverse or multiple worlds), seventh (multiple words
with each on a different timeline), eighth (multiple worlds in different
parallel universes), ninth (multiple infinities; able to jump from
timeline of one world in one universe to another world on another
timeline in another universe), tenth (all possible infinities of all
possible universes), and eleventh (all subatomic particles of all
dimensions). It is expected that 10 to the 500th power of universes can
exist. From the eleventh dimension, if the positive energy can balance
the negative, then a universe can spontaneously appear.</p>
<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJuyDG2PkNmrUDPhLGk78hz-95N0139OLYIWu0Mx3GxH-VB_KsdXwSesUzhDcBrB7zMEwxSY_U5dTzCHQvOkXEA0GDqbuxlkSNg1u_sp2oH8hUmNAZOIDQgxAhcL5CGnfZ90kwXkk8JPxjsTQWgI8Hsd6J4O0ZYzcFXmGmDaO80SpN5hPT9Qc1OqgIamk/s1275/The%20Holy%20Grail%20of%20Babylon%20lg.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1275" data-original-width="825" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJuyDG2PkNmrUDPhLGk78hz-95N0139OLYIWu0Mx3GxH-VB_KsdXwSesUzhDcBrB7zMEwxSY_U5dTzCHQvOkXEA0GDqbuxlkSNg1u_sp2oH8hUmNAZOIDQgxAhcL5CGnfZ90kwXkk8JPxjsTQWgI8Hsd6J4O0ZYzcFXmGmDaO80SpN5hPT9Qc1OqgIamk/s320/The%20Holy%20Grail%20of%20Babylon%20lg.jpg" width="207" /></a></div><br />I don’t think there is any big argument that the Bible supports the
first four dimensions. After all, I think we can all agree that
everything around us is presented to us in 3-D. And we, of course,
experience time, even if we only experience it in a linear fashion. When
I investigated the Bible for support of higher dimensions, I had to
take into account the spiritual realm, and even Satan and the angels who
followed him being kicked out of heaven and thereby being placed in the
fourth dimension where we reside. Because they came from a higher
dimension, we cannot experience them the way we experience each other.<p></p>
<p> There are limited instances of God allowing some to experience
the fifth dimension, or time travel, but it was done by him and not by
the human involved (e.g., Philip as presented in Acts chapter 8). I
considered Sheol as the sixth dimension. It is outside our dimension and
connected only to the eleventh, or highest, dimension where God exists,
as God is in control of it. Yet, there are a few instances of it being
connected to our dimension (e.g., Lazarus coming back from Sheol, found
in John chapter 11). I consider the seventh dimension as Tartarus which
is also connected only to the eleventh dimension as only God has access
to it. This is where God placed selected angels because of their
disobedience (mentioned in Second Peter chapter 2).</p>
<p> It may seem strange to think of the sixth and seventh dimensions
disconnected from the others except for the eleventh. Yet, they are
definitely higher than ours but certainly lower than what would be more
“godly,” so to speak. It is God who has placed these limits on these two
dimensions. Yet, I feel they do fit into the hierarchy of how I am
presenting these “Biblical” dimensions.</p>
<p> I think of the eighth dimension being Paradise, or Eden. This
may be where Adam and Eve were in the beginning but were put into the
fourth dimension after their rebellion when Satan deceived them. This is
also the place the righteous who were in Sheol were taken, and the
place where the righteous today go when they die. The ninth dimension is
the angelic realm. As God’s messengers, they can travel to our
dimension and would be the reason we would not visibly see them because
they would not naturally be corporeal in a lower dimension from theirs.
The tenth dimension would then be higher angels who attend to God’s
throne like the cherubim and seraphim. Then the eleventh dimension would
be where God himself dwells and who has access to all dimensions below
his. Perhaps he exists as unity in his dimension but manifest as triune
in dimensions below his as that is the only way lower dimensions can
reveal him. Just a thought. The number of universes may actually be the
number of decisions people make and yet God knows which one will be
picked so the timeline progression is in one direction even though there
are seemingly endless possibilities.</p>
<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtWYef1VzltJzh6ytY4bt1EJnFGc4lYO5H9TwXVRE8WVhku6KxOODgwhdd-Fy5IKdjRrEiB0UJAdYqDT8bis4Az48ArHL65lJj7q0ozt5l5mk7IN3IvfJUeJxXTOqrjNRiCmitcaqaiojZVpAsuEwR39woZZxGusliN5Rxdng0ulxg_abjU1rCi_7ofE/s1275/The%20Defining%20Curse%20lg.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1275" data-original-width="825" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJtWYef1VzltJzh6ytY4bt1EJnFGc4lYO5H9TwXVRE8WVhku6KxOODgwhdd-Fy5IKdjRrEiB0UJAdYqDT8bis4Az48ArHL65lJj7q0ozt5l5mk7IN3IvfJUeJxXTOqrjNRiCmitcaqaiojZVpAsuEwR39woZZxGusliN5Rxdng0ulxg_abjU1rCi_7ofE/s320/The%20Defining%20Curse%20lg.jpg" width="207" /></a></div><br />All of that to say these were the thoughts for the genesis of <i>Rebellion in the Stone of Fire</i>.
It describes these different dimensions, but in a nonscientific way,
tells how they have interacted with each other, and why certain things
happened the way the Bible describes them.<p></p>
<p>After writing the first book, I thought it would be good to go
further to show the consequences of Lucifer’s rebellion and what that
means for the human race. Lucifer’s rebellion started because of his
pride and that led to him trying to take over the world God created and
make it into his image rather than it remaining in God’s image. The
second book, <i>The Holy Grail of Babylon</i>, is about the Tower of
Babel and how Lucifer used Gilgamesh to try and create a superhuman to
deceive the world. But this is presented in a very science fiction
fashion with time travel and a lot of creative license. When his attempt
failed, he moved on to try and destroy Israel, the nation though whom
God was to provide his Messiah to the world. We find this in the third
book, <i>The Defining Curse</i>. That plot ultimately failed as well.</p>
<p>I then wanted to let people see that the Adversary is alive and well
even today. Lucifer is still scheming and trying to take control. This
is revealed in a dramatic way in <i>The Luciferian Plague</i> where
today’s technology is used against us for his ultimate control. This too
failed—at least in my book he failed. Yet, we must see what real life
will reveal to us.</p>
<p> My goal with this series was to take somewhat familiar Bible
stories and make them unique in how they are told, dramatic in how they
are presented, and different from how they are normally read in hopes
such a presentation will help readers see these stories in a new and
fresh way. By being presented from an angelic point of view, hopefully
readers will learn something they perhaps didn’t already know. These
stories definitely put a new twist to age-old stories that are just as
relevant to us today as they were to generations past.</p>
<p><b><span style="font-size: large;">Can you give us your book blurb so others can find out what your series is about?</span></b></p>
<p>I wasn’t sure if you wanted this for the series or for each book, so I present both here:</p>
<p><i>Series:</i></p>
<p> See the excitement behind the scenes from the view of one of
God’s archangels of how Lucifer became the Adversary and the part he has
played even before the creation of the universe, as well as how he has
influenced all of mankind from the creation of Adam and Eve, his
involvement with the Nephilim causing the implementation of the
worldwide flood, his influence on the construction of the Tower of Babel
as a means to his control over the world, his involvement in the curse
of king Jehoiachin and his animosity for the nation of Israel, and even
how he nefariously interferes in modern times in our day-to-day
activities.</p>
<p><i>Rebellion in the Stones of Fire:</i></p>
<p> He has many names: Lucifer, Satan, Devil, Adversary.</p>
<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqg6-duvmKEusQyVKXmeXeD2yp2xE4AFlXNKjj-INPu4ny6KmOJwkhBPEYbcPsgfQL_o1fueCTfjNn8OMH31TNOxX6VXS7SvdeTu7Nvb-0Ygn8WoHKa1akHDKBKEDzDv3GepzVphefecQIyLU0AQm7WUZQuvEOX_vKK2mJzantX3bN5_40LzYX0EZHuj4/s1275/The%20Luciferian%20Plague%20lg.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1275" data-original-width="819" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqg6-duvmKEusQyVKXmeXeD2yp2xE4AFlXNKjj-INPu4ny6KmOJwkhBPEYbcPsgfQL_o1fueCTfjNn8OMH31TNOxX6VXS7SvdeTu7Nvb-0Ygn8WoHKa1akHDKBKEDzDv3GepzVphefecQIyLU0AQm7WUZQuvEOX_vKK2mJzantX3bN5_40LzYX0EZHuj4/s320/The%20Luciferian%20Plague%20lg.jpg" width="206" /></a></div><br />Come learn how he falls from the highest of places to where he
is today. Understand the conflict that starts in Heaven and how it
extends to Earth. See everything through the eyes of Mikael, the Captain
of the Lord’s Hosts: from the beginning of the universe, the initial
rebellion, creation of time, the Garden of Eden, and up through the time
of Noah and the Flood. Get a different perspective on these events that
will help you rediscover the awe of age-old Bible stories and give you a
new perspective for you to ponder.<p></p>
<p><i>The Holy Grail of Babylon:</i></p>
<p> Lucifer is preparing for his ultimate reign.</p>
<p> And he has a plan literally out of this world for creating the
perfect human who can influence and dominate the Earth so he can come to
power and rule all. Since the time of the Tower of Babel, he has been
scheming by creating a planet in a time dilation field where advances in
human genetics can be faster than here on Earth.</p>
<p> A few have arisen to stop his plan at all costs. This involves a
couple who unknowingly have almost identical DNA to the ancient rulers
of Babylon who created the false religion that is key to Lucifer’s plan
for ultimate control. Can Lucifer’s plan be stopped before this couple
must pay the ultimate sacrifice to save their world?</p>
<p><i>The Defining Curse:</i></p>
<p> Lucifer causes a curse that could change mankind’s destiny.</p>
<p> The prophet Jeremiah announces a curse which states the
descendants of the Jewish King Jehoiachin will not become king of Judah
and that Jehoiachin will be put in prison in Babylon. Lucifer tries to
use this curse to change the prophecy of the coming Messiah while at the
same time the archangel Mikael works to defeat Lucifer’s plans by
aiding the prophet Daniel to alter Jehoiachin’s destiny. Can either
accomplish this feat when Babylon is the heart of the worship of Lucifer
and his demons?</p>
<p><i>The Luciferian Plague:</i></p>
<p> A plague with the power to change biblical prophecy!</p>
<p> Lucifer has hijacked a new technology that is believed to be the
next step in mankind’s evolution to living longer and healthier. Yet,
his agenda is somewhat more nefarious: developing a plague that targets
those of Jewish descent.</p>
<p>His plan has huge spiritual ramifications and brings Bible prophecy
to the brink of being a mere fairytale. Can what the Bible teaches be
changed to fit a new agenda? Or do the prophecies in the Bible remain
irrefutable?</p>
<p><b><span style="font-size: large;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUfS89IGH3mef3VfCxApp_Bm7AQtu1kVi3RcJ6K5F9V5n7HpQ3XVqo1_0p9-K_Ih3PvLNkCdz3oxsRibDz4wozWeUFnSAAYP99JLsDeT8ykp42A9ju-MCC6KpRZ4kUEE0RNbrEcZoGai1PnszOhBRk64YMbk_0tRT8ZsyQ5RijFuX0Ldy_5LCcYqe9kI/s640/The%20Adversary%20Chronicles%204.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUfS89IGH3mef3VfCxApp_Bm7AQtu1kVi3RcJ6K5F9V5n7HpQ3XVqo1_0p9-K_Ih3PvLNkCdz3oxsRibDz4wozWeUFnSAAYP99JLsDeT8ykp42A9ju-MCC6KpRZ4kUEE0RNbrEcZoGai1PnszOhBRk64YMbk_0tRT8ZsyQ5RijFuX0Ldy_5LCcYqe9kI/s320/The%20Adversary%20Chronicles%204.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></b></div><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Do you write in any other genres?</span></b><p></p>
<p> All my books can be described as Christian fiction. I like to
say they are fiction with a science fiction feel and a Christian
perspective. They are adventure mysteries with a little romance mingled
in with a little to a lot of science fiction. The various series vary
from dystopian, to end-time prophecy, to science fiction, to retold
bible stories in a unique way.</p>
<p> The Coded Message Trilogy (<i>T-H-B</i>, <i>F-S-H-S</i>, and <i>T-U-L-E</i>)
is about a dystopian world where all religions and icons have been
abolished and replaced with the idea of community. Yet, these codes keep
popping up for the main character, who is an astrophysicist working on a
Mars mission, to find and understand. He soon discovers these are
messages about God and his character. His appetite for understanding
these codes eventually gets him in trouble with the elite and he and his
friends get sent to Mars.</p>
<p> Stele Prophecy Pentalogy (<i>Mercy of the Iron Scepter</i>, <i>Promised Kingdom</i>, <i>Hope Renewed</i>, <i>Darkness in the Light</i>, and <i>Iron in the Scepter</i>)
is perhaps the most prophetically based series but, again, written in
face-paced and fun stories. It also reveals that people are people no
matter in which time of Earth’s history one is looking. The same
problems, issues, and struggles still happen. The only thing that
changes is the technology that allows one to cope with their struggles
and issues.</p>
<p> The Erabon Prophecy Trilogy (<i>Myeem</i>, <i>Sharab</i>, and <i>Qerach</i>)
is perhaps the most science fiction of any of the other series I have
written. An astronaut living many years into our future gets involved in
a stellar gate accident which propels him into a galaxy that is so far
from his that he has no hope of returning to his home. He encounters
aliens who are much different from him yet finds their focus is somewhat
hauntingly familiar, and soon discovers he meets the criteria of being
their prophesied forerunner to Erabon, their deity, returning. So his
mission is to unite all of their clans strewn across six different
planets and prepare for Erabon’s return.</p>
<p> The current series, The Adversary Chronicles (<i>Rebellion in the Stones of Fire</i>, <i>The Holy Grail of Babylon</i>, <i>The Defining Curse</i>, and <i>The Luciferian Plague</i>)
are Bible stories but told in a unique way and from a unique
perspective. These reveal the age-old story of good versus evil but told
from an angelic perspective and how Lucifer (who becomes Satan, the
Adversary) gets involved with mankind to try and make this Earth and all
its inhabitants his own. The last book of this series is not from the
Bible but keeps that same feel in a modern era to show how the Adversary
is just as inventive in his ruthless plans today as he has always been.</p>
<p><b><span style="font-size: large;">Where can readers buy your book?</span></b></p>
<p>There are a number of places one can find my books: my website (<a href="http://randydockens.com" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">randydockens.com</a>) which has a bookstore powered by IndiePubs.com (<a href="http://www.randydockens.com/bookstore" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">www.randydockens.com/bookstore</a>), Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Kobu.</p>
<p><b><span style="font-size: large;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkdFV-tv2w21lhrHZcY8TwPMZDIYrCE0UWIebgvqbp6bA1OQ_ZPOykcIoketvOs_fZq9iII599-M_PurX0d6-N47y2BqSDYTvUDMN81cyZnB3cfcohxj213aoQ0kc_WodBfyN13z3V51-4e8hUQPvs0mFeNhXo8fiNrowpGFugokdj_TOnJ-UkQIgN_7I/s911/The%20Adversary%20Chronicles%202.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="911" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkdFV-tv2w21lhrHZcY8TwPMZDIYrCE0UWIebgvqbp6bA1OQ_ZPOykcIoketvOs_fZq9iII599-M_PurX0d6-N47y2BqSDYTvUDMN81cyZnB3cfcohxj213aoQ0kc_WodBfyN13z3V51-4e8hUQPvs0mFeNhXo8fiNrowpGFugokdj_TOnJ-UkQIgN_7I/s320/The%20Adversary%20Chronicles%202.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></b></div><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br />What author would you like to be if you couldn’t be yourself and why?</span></b><p></p>
<p> What an interesting question! My, the choices are endless.
However, I think I would have to say Frank Herbert. Now, of course I
would not like to be him today, as he died in 1986. LOL. Yet, I have
always admired him for how he was able to create such a novel world in
his book and series, <i>Dune</i>. I read this series when I was in
graduate school and basically devoured each book of the series as fast
as I could read it. I was in awe of the world he created, and I remember
feeling like I stepped into another realm every time I opened one of
his books. It takes great talent to create such a captivating world
where readers feel so immersed into the world that was created merely
through words. My, how powerful words are!</p>
<p>I attempted to do something along the same line with my Erabon
Prophecy series. Now, I can’t say it is as good as the world Frank
Herbert created, but he was my inspiration for attempting to do that. I
hope others can feel some of the same awe after reading this series as I
did when I read <i>Dune</i>.</p>
<p> Even after the author has passed away, generations are being
impacted by his work. I find that so empowering. And I do hope future
generations will find my books still relevant and impactful. Maybe not
to the same extent as Frank Herbert, but still captivating and
enjoyable.</p>
<p><b><span style="font-size: large;">What’s next for you?</span></b></p>
<p> I’m currently working on two new series. One deals with what I
call “Regions of Light.” While sounding perhaps fanciful, there are some
prophets today who say we are on the verge of a new era for our Earth
where God is going to manifest himself on a grand scale. Therefore, I
have tried to envision what a world like that would look like and am
writing a trilogy about that.</p>
<p> Then, there is another series I am working out in my mind that
will deal with parallel universes and how one will travel between them
to bring technology back to our world. Of course, the main character
will find out he is being played for a nefarious reason. So, stay tuned!</p>
<p> </p><p><b><span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: x-large;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ-LcEy1LaXtLJVNBlv3cW4gUncDq3CKBc_UaZ618bjQl63ZZXkMbduTPob4hqSBLC5fThgq8U3KxookR_vG-jnC8Irkv2bDWhLrevcL7GX63In-jwE0HoTO5oZeYkgRPEwvabGq3kb9nCll1v7-6f96HMtWGg4m-j9Ws7E2MGoZpOnFDDYvJgIqy3GCc/s892/The%20Adversary%20Chronicles%203.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="358" data-original-width="892" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ-LcEy1LaXtLJVNBlv3cW4gUncDq3CKBc_UaZ618bjQl63ZZXkMbduTPob4hqSBLC5fThgq8U3KxookR_vG-jnC8Irkv2bDWhLrevcL7GX63In-jwE0HoTO5oZeYkgRPEwvabGq3kb9nCll1v7-6f96HMtWGg4m-j9Ws7E2MGoZpOnFDDYvJgIqy3GCc/w640-h256/The%20Adversary%20Chronicles%203.jpg" width="640" /></a></b></div><b><br /> </b><p></p></div><p>
</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-36217741313140030452023-08-09T21:00:00.001-07:002023-08-09T21:00:00.140-07:00❤Author Interview: Christian Thriller Author Linda Armstrong-Miller #authorinterview #Christian #thriller<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7WEETA9Wi2mBnZHZPVndIt6qqAT7sK0dHoflPAq3XwMlNKN5YmoAiy6LGxtr4Or-c5KrN50BcthoelAWiIguYFWlL_V2BuMc6obs5xxoJob-ajiAC-nK4p24yU_ym1bQsgZxWlfZw6gXJPqp3aaQdXPkxLfwb7G9vAwXorK6Nr57yY7G-8A4HYIDgD5s/s640/Blood%20&%20Water%2020.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="640" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7WEETA9Wi2mBnZHZPVndIt6qqAT7sK0dHoflPAq3XwMlNKN5YmoAiy6LGxtr4Or-c5KrN50BcthoelAWiIguYFWlL_V2BuMc6obs5xxoJob-ajiAC-nK4p24yU_ym1bQsgZxWlfZw6gXJPqp3aaQdXPkxLfwb7G9vAwXorK6Nr57yY7G-8A4HYIDgD5s/w640-h448/Blood%20&%20Water%2020.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /></div><div><br /><p></p><p></p>
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<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRts4TWsIYIDLeriioqbhcakmAGsHjnAMhERXHrI65a9utg1kKCQ8b2uBBvUvzGJoKX5wJLjTIIw2mXbOY_OoVN_5NH_t0Sf7BNRrzRYP5atLn5eunPkbwsJXFP2_Fh4HpzI96Mj7iXVJzZMmEQjqLVvyKTlNGSrhoPP1rNCfyfYKxQN17yOkEsZUbG9M/s960/Linda%20Armstrong-Miller%20lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="953" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRts4TWsIYIDLeriioqbhcakmAGsHjnAMhERXHrI65a9utg1kKCQ8b2uBBvUvzGJoKX5wJLjTIIw2mXbOY_OoVN_5NH_t0Sf7BNRrzRYP5atLn5eunPkbwsJXFP2_Fh4HpzI96Mj7iXVJzZMmEQjqLVvyKTlNGSrhoPP1rNCfyfYKxQN17yOkEsZUbG9M/s320/Linda%20Armstrong-Miller%20lg.jpg" width="318" /></a></div>Linda Armstrong-Miller
has worked in the medical field for over twenty years. In that time she
has worked as a counselor, registered nurse in the emergency room, ICU,
Recovery Room, and she has worked with children placed in psychiatric
hospitals. She understands when a family is in crisis and she has been
with them during their time of distress, depression, anxiety and
difficulty. She believes in God and uses her belief as well as her
experience when writing. Blood and Water is her second book published.
Touched is her first book. Currently she is working on a young adult
trilogy. <p></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Website: <a href="http://www.lindaarmstrongmillerauthor.com">http://www.lindaarmstrongmillerauthor.com </a></span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/lindaam1">https://twitter.com/lindaam1 </a></span></p>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100039732613292">https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100039732613292</a></span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-8971611944784384887" itemprop="description articleBody"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QhK2Lx2l19ojhMwANoiqMj9UnJ0lGxlHgzIrtg_F3kBi-wptt9PEGc66L59T0pEfq-tpnjtBLaYRezypzsQEEr-_wD9dlXEReTVhXXMyxgnb3TyZITF69NOI-cM0I33aoFsHRIUKEKM/s1600/interview+7.png" style="color: #b81a09; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="69" data-original-width="335" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QhK2Lx2l19ojhMwANoiqMj9UnJ0lGxlHgzIrtg_F3kBi-wptt9PEGc66L59T0pEfq-tpnjtBLaYRezypzsQEEr-_wD9dlXEReTVhXXMyxgnb3TyZITF69NOI-cM0I33aoFsHRIUKEKM/s320/interview+7.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span>
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</p><p>
</p><p><strong></strong>
</p><p><strong>Thanks for stopping by! </strong><strong>What inspired you to write <i>Blood and Water</i>? </strong></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimftw02Op8OE2U6uINXT4Y4qOaDq2AvUtTbBPgAhfBbISiYyWP0TMNmEtCaSigUwgh5a2oSMinGybJ7RCUEXgV11G6IPMBkTx5QZ_TcJkPVSDH2dC78ew1TuMTpXR1NlgalZbhQgdfVZHTVIv0zF5ErBWsxMLw6Brqr5wWjtyjGMhDXs7CEnft9MiQIQQ/s547/Blood%20&%20Water%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="364" height="555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimftw02Op8OE2U6uINXT4Y4qOaDq2AvUtTbBPgAhfBbISiYyWP0TMNmEtCaSigUwgh5a2oSMinGybJ7RCUEXgV11G6IPMBkTx5QZ_TcJkPVSDH2dC78ew1TuMTpXR1NlgalZbhQgdfVZHTVIv0zF5ErBWsxMLw6Brqr5wWjtyjGMhDXs7CEnft9MiQIQQ/w370-h555/Blood%20&%20Water%20cover.jpg" width="370" /></a></div><br />I have always liked to help write the Christmas plays in school or at
church. Then, like I said earlier, I tried horror in college. I love to
read. Writing was something I tried when I got to the point where I
knew who done it by chapter two.<p></p>
<p><strong>Do you write in any other genres? </strong></p><p>In college I took a stab at horror. I decided there was enough horror in the world. That was a long time ago. It hasn’t gotten any better so I decided writing for God was a better way to help the people and the world.</p>
<p><strong>Can you give us your book blurb so others can find out what your book is about?</strong></p><p><strong> </strong>Lisa Rivers is a genius with a photographic memory. She is the youngest, highest paid computer designer for the Department of Defense. Her program promises no more POWs and can be used domestically. No more missing children. So, how is it that Lisa is kidnapped? How was her identity discovered? Is she still alive, and if so, can she be found before it is too late?</p>
<p><strong>How can readers discover more about you and your work? </strong></p><p>I can be found on Facebook and at <a href="http://lindaarmstrongmillerauthor.com" rel="noreferrer noopener" target="_blank">lindaarmstrongmillerauthor.com</a></p>
<p><strong>Where can readers buy your book? </strong></p><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Amazon: <a href="https://tinyurl.com/35nwbkz3">https://tinyurl.com/35nwbkz3 </a></span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Barnes & Noble: <a href="https://tinyurl.com/bdcu442x">https://tinyurl.com/bdcu442x </a></span></p>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Goodreads: <a href="https://tinyurl.com/tbn9suhe">https://tinyurl.com/tbn9suhe</a></span>
<p><strong>Thank you very much for taking the time out of your busy schedule to take part in this interview. What’s next for you? </strong></p><p>I’m working on a YA trilogy involving angels and demons.</p>
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-32067367000345223752023-07-25T21:00:00.001-07:002023-07-25T21:00:00.161-07:00❤Author Interview: 'The Five Watches' John R. York #authorinterview #timetravel<p style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0dvSsXsxqjK-VdyHaihuR6T5uPofZbXptqDXPCsYf99w0__Gxpa0n46R8q3R8RmbrJClTSFVOyw8S1HqndiuiOr3mT7cfGvLYVUtuCU_FyXXTX2BryS-kn1JMNekUiGC2O64MWASY32WEis0o5fbqPyLjCO7b3TsW7NIjGJmScvwv_56P0nKDi1V7tNc/s640/The%20Five%20Watches%20anim.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="496" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0dvSsXsxqjK-VdyHaihuR6T5uPofZbXptqDXPCsYf99w0__Gxpa0n46R8q3R8RmbrJClTSFVOyw8S1HqndiuiOr3mT7cfGvLYVUtuCU_FyXXTX2BryS-kn1JMNekUiGC2O64MWASY32WEis0o5fbqPyLjCO7b3TsW7NIjGJmScvwv_56P0nKDi1V7tNc/w496-h640/The%20Five%20Watches%20anim.gif" width="496" /></a></p><p></p><p></p>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsgGcMOJke6e2OloQXdToU7nGqdyBoeRTCd5Vv7AH2FNzbe2xvYIGClYmV5HfV7Ka1eSmKgjqZ5LlAu1p06iPISaAQl_LZ4Eebf5kSdNctL-bm0z2uTlY5H6pHHCuolebQNDal5euZjiTlBxdnMifjfhhfGt5F-_9i_9tuAEchtgIQ424mt2zA5m5TW-U/s582/John%20R.%20York.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="582" data-original-width="438" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsgGcMOJke6e2OloQXdToU7nGqdyBoeRTCd5Vv7AH2FNzbe2xvYIGClYmV5HfV7Ka1eSmKgjqZ5LlAu1p06iPISaAQl_LZ4Eebf5kSdNctL-bm0z2uTlY5H6pHHCuolebQNDal5euZjiTlBxdnMifjfhhfGt5F-_9i_9tuAEchtgIQ424mt2zA5m5TW-U/w301-h400/John%20R.%20York.png" width="301" /></a></div><br />John R. York has been
writing and publishing his stories since 2016, but he’s always been a
storyteller, even as a kid in Central Ohio where he grew up. His life
experiences provided him with a wealth of tales to share with others and
resulted in his debut work, Wolf’s Tale. He has since published five
more novels, including the award-winning <em>Journey to Eden</em>. A retired high-tech executive, he currently lives with his wife, Paula, in New Port Richey, Florida. </span>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Website: <a href="http://www.johnryork.com">www.johnryork.com</a><br />
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/john.york.9277">https://www.facebook.com/john.york.9277</a><br />
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">TikTok: <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@johnryork">https://www.tiktok.com/@johnryork</a> and <a href="http://www.tiktok.com/@dreamwriter">www.tiktok.com/@dreamwriter </a></span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Amazon Author Page: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/John-York/author/B0771RCZJ2?ref=ap_rdr&store_ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true">https://www.amazon.com/stores/John-York/author/B0771RCZJ2?ref=ap_rdr&store_ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true
</a><br />
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<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21571052.John_York">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21571052.John_York</a></span></p></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-8971611944784384887" itemprop="description articleBody"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QhK2Lx2l19ojhMwANoiqMj9UnJ0lGxlHgzIrtg_F3kBi-wptt9PEGc66L59T0pEfq-tpnjtBLaYRezypzsQEEr-_wD9dlXEReTVhXXMyxgnb3TyZITF69NOI-cM0I33aoFsHRIUKEKM/s1600/interview+7.png" style="color: #b81a09; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="69" data-original-width="335" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QhK2Lx2l19ojhMwANoiqMj9UnJ0lGxlHgzIrtg_F3kBi-wptt9PEGc66L59T0pEfq-tpnjtBLaYRezypzsQEEr-_wD9dlXEReTVhXXMyxgnb3TyZITF69NOI-cM0I33aoFsHRIUKEKM/s320/interview+7.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span>
</p><p>
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</p><p><strong><span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: x-large;">Thanks for stopping by! What attracted you to the science fiction genre?</span></strong></p>
<p>I’m a fan of science fiction in general. I love sci fi books and movies. Writing stories in that genre comes to me easily. I enjoy reading and watching space operas and science horror and hard science, but I prefer to write about parallel worlds and time travel. My earliest memories of sci fi movies are <em>The Forbidden Planet</em>, <em>The Day the Earth Stood Still</em>, and <em>The Time Machine</em> (the original version). I watched the TV </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBvViFSnLhXnmzU3YMfp8E1WxVpp9pYaqdcLjiwu7FvhCKqsNJ8da02kGPRnev5enbmYkDzPVgJb9f8MS3KENsIlAZWa0qCRTOUa-tqGLgv_OaQaNI28XhU8IXEK2D9nM6PPjoQWz4HJjV0BBYXh5Ex9K99NAC7NX_e5f2Q6sSuf7BByum-Hl7IaaRNTY/s700/The%20Five%20Watches.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="520" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBvViFSnLhXnmzU3YMfp8E1WxVpp9pYaqdcLjiwu7FvhCKqsNJ8da02kGPRnev5enbmYkDzPVgJb9f8MS3KENsIlAZWa0qCRTOUa-tqGLgv_OaQaNI28XhU8IXEK2D9nM6PPjoQWz4HJjV0BBYXh5Ex9K99NAC7NX_e5f2Q6sSuf7BByum-Hl7IaaRNTY/w476-h640/The%20Five%20Watches.png" width="476" /></a></div><br />series <em>Star Trek</em> and stood in line to watch the opening of <em>Star Wars</em>. So, I was hooked early on.<p></p>
<p><strong><span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: x-large;">Do you write in any other genres?</span></strong></p>
<p>Ah, yes, I do. Although I realize writing in different genres or mixed genre makes it difficult to zero in on a specific target reader, I enjoy working with different types of storytelling. I’ve written a fictional memoir, two science fiction novels, an award-winning historical fiction novel, a paranormal murder mystery, and a modern western/native-American fantasy. My loyal readers tell me they like the way I change things up. I’ll tell you, though, all my stories contain some element of sci fi and/or fantasy. I think it just makes the tale more interesting — at least for me. I hope it does for my readers as well.</p>
<p><span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: x-large;"><strong>What inspired you to write </strong><strong><em>The Five Watches: An Accident of Time</em></strong><strong>?</strong></span></p>
<p>I knew my next novel was going to be a science fiction story but I didn’t zero in on the subject right away. I watch the national news every evening and grew concerned about what’s happening in our world these days. I found myself laying awake at night contemplating all the violence, unrest, over dependence on technology, and the concerns over climate. Even the pandemic, and how so many people dealt poorly with the crisis, caused me to wonder about our future. It felt as though humanity was on a self-destructive course that we don’t seem to be able to deal with effectively.</p>
<p>I thought about turning those thoughts into a future dystopian story, but the idea of doing a time travel tale felt like it could be a more appropriate way to deal with the ideas swirling around in my head. I began the story in the 19<sup>th</sup> century with a scientist searching for cures to diseases and took it to the 27<sup>th</sup> century, where humanity was all but extinct, But the real story begins in a 21<sup>st</sup> century neighborhood.</p>
<p><strong><span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: x-large;">Can you give us your book blurb so others can find out what your book is about?</span></strong></p>
<p>Time is running out for humanity, but an accident of time may provide an unexpected opportunity to save the future when neighbors from the 21<sup>st</sup> century are unexpectedly thrust into a deadly 27<sup>th</sup> century conflict.</p>
<p><strong><span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: x-large;">How can readers discover more about you and your work? <br /></span></strong></p>
<p>The best place to learn more about me and my work is my website: <a href="http://www.johnryork.com">www.johnryork.com</a></p>
<p>My website also hosts my monthly blog, creatively call “My Blog”, and a featured essay on the state of the world.</p>
<p>Readers can also find me at Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21571052.John_York">https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21571052.John_York</a></p>
<p>Our they can visit my Facebook page at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/john.york.9277">https://www.facebook.com/john.york.9277</a></p>
<p><strong><span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: x-large;">Where can readers buy your book? </span></strong></p>
<p>The Five Watches: An Accident of Time will be released as an ebook and in print on August 15, and will be available wherever books are sold.</p>
<p><strong><span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: x-large;">Thank you very much for taking the time out of your busy schedule to take part in this interview. What’s next for you?</span></strong></p>
<p>Thank you for inviting me to connect with your readers. I’ve already completed my next novel called <em>Retribution</em>. It’s a dark crime drama, featuring antihero antagonists, Jack and Lilith. The story includes a bit of the supernatural to make it more edgy. I anticipate it coming out early 2024.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6d5tWISIInhGlSiqISMtKyjqQFGk177ZyojqcQwg4xGg4JWYkXJ6DXNLNC48loCkOjCVDX40GosROxPkEYhcJyBf3KqINYOmziDbyMAJTAZN3VACUGYFvnk_F2fmd9_K9JiLypDAY1YJnyXirHHebqpms6glRK1voHbe3QhHwgL6R_DeQrw8JD4MJbY/s793/The%20Five%20Watches%20clock%20anima.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="358" data-original-width="793" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6d5tWISIInhGlSiqISMtKyjqQFGk177ZyojqcQwg4xGg4JWYkXJ6DXNLNC48loCkOjCVDX40GosROxPkEYhcJyBf3KqINYOmziDbyMAJTAZN3VACUGYFvnk_F2fmd9_K9JiLypDAY1YJnyXirHHebqpms6glRK1voHbe3QhHwgL6R_DeQrw8JD4MJbY/w640-h288/The%20Five%20Watches%20clock%20anima.gif" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-18295839314737107882023-07-19T21:00:00.001-07:002023-07-19T21:00:00.137-07:00❤Inside the Pages: Blood & Water by Linda Armstrong-Miller #bookspotlight @lindaam1<p>
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<p></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="78" data-original-width="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOiIC8VCxt8bzfmkixpHy_9lQSbjzwe1aIin2qRPAQMfLvnpCTkQPImuBPMKc-Jcvy3KeEpb0zy6XH5G1OGdfkuOPZh-hVqVGIgrT5avPriJA_aZvNiu92YGwn_fLXz44aRs2iAa9Si8/s1600/inside+the+pages.png" style="border: medium none; color: #b81a09; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; position: relative;" /></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></b></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f;"></span></span></span></span></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6GfZNfVBDLNmVPemy6KY2VaHP9iEDGVM-yj9VPuhyJCAIsqtXtSYs2bwCzlivpElUjNGNrtkiUbhVQNxNGzOHzOnynOBQi3xFR6WqZmtMeAj6x_Bks-56V08oR8rQXXAXYaidDPwX9z5WaD5KMOok1xQmk_ftyiEJiz-Ca6jUtJ6vSt8wK04FtIPfOn4/s547/Blood%20&%20Water%20cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="364" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6GfZNfVBDLNmVPemy6KY2VaHP9iEDGVM-yj9VPuhyJCAIsqtXtSYs2bwCzlivpElUjNGNrtkiUbhVQNxNGzOHzOnynOBQi3xFR6WqZmtMeAj6x_Bks-56V08oR8rQXXAXYaidDPwX9z5WaD5KMOok1xQmk_ftyiEJiz-Ca6jUtJ6vSt8wK04FtIPfOn4/s320/Blood%20&%20Water%20cover.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Title: Blood & Water</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Author: Linda Armstrong-Miller</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publisher: Dorrance Publishing</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Pages: 266</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="color: black;"> Genre:Christian Thriller<br /></span></span></div><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Lisa Rivers is a
genius with a photographic memory. She is the youngest, highest paid
computer designer for the Department of Defense. Her program promises no
more POWs and can be used domestically. No more missing children. So,
how is it that Lisa is kidnapped? How was her identity discovered? Is
she still alive and if so, can she be found before it is too late? </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Amazon: <a href="https://tinyurl.com/35nwbkz3">https://tinyurl.com/35nwbkz3 </a></span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Barnes & Noble: <a href="https://tinyurl.com/bdcu442x">https://tinyurl.com/bdcu442x </a></span></p>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Goodreads: <a href="https://tinyurl.com/tbn9suhe">https://tinyurl.com/tbn9suhe</a></span><p></p><p><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s454/book+excerpt.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="76" data-original-width="454" height="54" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s320/book+excerpt.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></p>
Sunday morning, Sam Rivers and his son Zach ran from the parking lot to the entry of the emergency room. The run had only been a hundred yards but, with the guilt Sam carried, twenty extra pounds, and no sleep in the past twenty-four hours, he found himself panting and sweating as if he had just run a marathon.<p>
He bent over, placed a hand on each knee for support. As he did, sweat joined in the center of his smooth, black forehead, ran down to a point, and dropped off his nose as he held his head first down then up, trying to catch his breath.<p>
The few gray strands at his temple appeared to outshine the rest of his black hair. If this is what getting old is all about, Sam decided he didn’t want any part of it. He stood and wiped his face. The sweat made his skin look like dark shiny caramel.<p>
Breathing less like an asthmatic old man, Sam led Zach through the door-way. Once inside, they felt lost and overwhelmed. They stopped, looked around for a familiar face then tried not to panic when they didn’t find one.<p>
As Sam looked around, he continued to work on controlling his breathing and on the catch that had seized his right side.<p>
There were two areas where they could seek help, triage and the information desk—both busy. Between the two areas was a door sporting a Staff Only sign. Sam thought about trying the door. Before he could, a young woman wearing baggy blue jeans and a sagging yellow T-shirt—Sam could only guess she was someone wanting to be seen but hadn’t—beat him to it.<p>
The exasperated attendant of the information desk turned to her and asked, “Can’t you read?”<p>
“I was just looking for the bathroom,” the lady with the yellow T-shirt said then sucked her teeth.<p>
“That sign don’t say Bathroom.” He pointed down the hall to a sign that did.<p>
With that, the attendant turned back to the young mother of two standing before the information desk. The lady with the yellow T-shirt turned from the door, flipped the attendant a bird then left through the doors Sam and Zach had just entered.<p>
The waiting room was filled with mothers holding babies and with men and women reading magazines as they waited for one of the too-few rooms to become available. Sam and Zach felt like intruders as they walked through the waiting room trying to find a way back into the patient care area; unwilling to wait. On the way to the bathrooms, they passed a man holding his head down as if snoozing, a lady sitting next to him, trying to quiet her crying baby. He never looked up but she watched them suspiciously as they walked through.<p>
After checking the phone and bathroom areas, Sam and Zach had no choice but to go back and wait for someone at either the triage area or information desk to become available. There were two nurses at triage. One, somewhere in her early twenties, was assisting an elderly white-haired lady—who was not making her job easy. For some reason, the lady kept trying to pull her blouse up and show the nurse something underneath. Each time she did, the woman exposed her undergarment. The nurse noticed Sam, smiled then looked back at the elderly lady.<p>
The other nurse, mid-thirties, maybe older, was with a young mother who was holding a runny-nosed little boy. He squirmed, trying to get down. When he didn’t get what he wanted, he screamed for all to hear, “Let go!”<p>
More focused and quicker than the younger nurse, the older nurse finished with the mother who couldn’t control her child then moved on to yet another mother and child combo. When done, she turned to Sam and Zach.<p>
“Sir, may I help you?” she asked.<p>
Her name was Tish, no last name, just Tish. She was light skinned with sandy brown hair, which was pulled tightly into a ponytail. Tish was heavy-set with a pretty face but, for some reason, she seemed unwilling or unable to smile. She looked tired, although it was only 0800.<p>
Tish looked at Sam through the open glass partition which separated them as he approached. “Yes, I’m Detective Rivers. My daughter was just brought in by helicopter.” Sam who was tired and had pain in both his knees and his legs also found it hard to smile at 0800.<p>
The pain in his knees and legs were the least of the pain he felt, the pain that encompassed his heart threatened to encompass the rest of him. He felt all of the fifty-three years that made up his life catching up with him. At least he was no longer panting. He was thankful for that.<p>
“Sir, let me get the patient representative. She’ll be able to…”<p>
“I don’t want the patient representative.” Sam walked away from Zach, meaning for him to stay where he was, and approached the door. Zach followed anyway. "I want to see my daughter, Lisa Rivers. I know she's here?"<p>
Sam looked through the open door into the hallway located behind triage. He wondered where Special Agent Frank Millwood was. Sam couldn’t help feeling angry at Frank. He knew they were coming. Where was he? Why hadn’t he made arrangements for them to be taken straight back upon their arrival?<p>
“Sir, at the moment—” Tish started again.<p>
“There was an FBI agent that came in with my daughter, Agent Millwood.<p>
Where is he?” Sam interrupted her again.<p>
“Detective Rivers, Zach, over here.” They turned and saw Millwood standing in the hallway, at the end of the waiting room. The sight of him immediately made Sam forget he had been angry at him. In fact, he was glad to see him. According to Frank’s partner, Sam couldn’t ask for anyone better to protect Lisa. That kind of praise from one lawman about another was gold.<p>
Saturday night, when Frank was called in, before Lisa’s rescue had gone down, Frank had been dressed in a nice coat and tie. Sam marveled that all he had to show for the day’s wear and tear was a little dirt. As far as Sam was concerned, that made him a lucky man.<p>
Frank had thick curly brown hair with even thicker and curlier eyelashes, the kind that women envied. He had perfect white teeth that flashed easily.<p>
Sam found him easy to like and trust—something he rarely found, especially the first time he met someone.<p>
Millwood was a second-generation FBI agent, joining the agency because it was expected of him. If Millwood was feeling the pressure of walking in his father’s footsteps, it didn’t show.<p>
“Thank God,” Sam said leaving Tish and triage.<p>
Millwood waved at Tish, indicating that Sam and Zach were friends, not foes. This didn’t seem to impress Tish one way or the other, but she said nothing more, allowing the two to pass.<p>
As Sam and Zach walked with Millwood, it appeared that he was either already familiar with this emergency room or he’d done a lot of investigating since arriving. He led them down a long hallway that had no patient examination rooms, just closed doors.<p>
They went about halfway down that hall and turned to the right, which placed them in an area that did have examination rooms. They passed the mother with the runny-nosed little boy. She was chasing him in the hallway while other patients watched her. Some were laughing at her and encouraging the little boy to run faster.<p>
Millwood caught the kid and held him for his mother. He then flashed a look at a young, white male of about twenty-two, sporting tattoos of horned serpents all over his right arm. The look said, I dare you to say another word.<p>
When the mother had her son in the room again, Millwood pulled the door shut and the three of them continued.
They made a left onto another hall and Millwood led Sam and Zach to room 104, where all else ceased to exist for Sam. The door to the room was open and no one in the room seemed to realize visitors were standing outside looking in. Sam and Zach watched the flurry of activity centered on a stretcher that sat in the center of the room.<p>
Lisa laid on that stretcher, attached to three IVs—one in each arm, and another one with four tails extending from it, protruded from her neck. Two one-liter bags, which were almost empty, hung from an IV pole; their fluids ran into Lisa’s veins. A small bag with the word Dopamine and the life saving liquid from two units of blood were also running into Lisa’s bruised and battered body.<p>
As if that weren’t enough, she also had wires running from her small chest to a cardiac monitor mounted to the wall. Other wires ran from her chest and back to another monitor that sat on a red cart. Without being told, Sam and Zach knew what all the activity was about. Lisa had gone into cardiac arrest and now she was being resuscitated. She had coded.<p>
<p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><p> </p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/s589/about+the+author+7.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="70" data-original-width="589" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/w640-h76/about+the+author+7.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="640" /></span></a></p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9yf7CQ3-ZbfzBR2wxssTIQ_8tq8OV23pLDNv3Fdhma-cnDeOv7U9p1yE92V7PrQXEdRAsfhYcJAX6IIlONVwJJTQZG-pQwVPGC4E-rCkqunMvZwnJozrFwxwTHvPHzYVxn_iYjhkFlwkFGRtKV6dybOVkpN8ivHlveAvumUlCvXEv5TCZNUhpZs8ESk0/s336/Linda%20Armstrong-Miller%20author.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="336" data-original-width="334" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9yf7CQ3-ZbfzBR2wxssTIQ_8tq8OV23pLDNv3Fdhma-cnDeOv7U9p1yE92V7PrQXEdRAsfhYcJAX6IIlONVwJJTQZG-pQwVPGC4E-rCkqunMvZwnJozrFwxwTHvPHzYVxn_iYjhkFlwkFGRtKV6dybOVkpN8ivHlveAvumUlCvXEv5TCZNUhpZs8ESk0/s320/Linda%20Armstrong-Miller%20author.jpg" width="318" /></a></div>Linda Armstrong-Miller
has worked in the medical field for over twenty years. In that time she
has worked as a counselor, registered nurse in the emergency room, ICU,
Recovery Room, and she has worked with children placed in psychiatric
hospitals. She understands when a family is in crisis and she has been
with them during their time of distress, depression, anxiety and
difficulty. She believes in God and uses her belief as well as her
experience when writing. Blood and Water is her second book published.
Touched is her first book. Currently she is working on a young adult
trilogy. <p></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Website: <a href="http://www.lindaarmstrongmillerauthor.com">http://www.lindaarmstrongmillerauthor.com </a></span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/lindaam1">https://twitter.com/lindaam1 </a></span></p>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100039732613292">https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100039732613292</a></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0JqL1-ehat1dzvSB6jIVkti46XdFd83X-ESZ0gUqHAuQEYUkirYOVCOSj3qSIQRVh2RwQ_fSS4M3OubnLJuQ5omZRk_vvZKVwKGr-9_b7_VEYgeioqADTZ20muYjVc52BKUgEweEa5Ye8LSDzxD4O4yOGW1_pPQq6HSATdeUtKxYP2mFqv3Ekr3AMEDE/s793/Blood%20&%20Water%2019.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="363" data-original-width="793" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0JqL1-ehat1dzvSB6jIVkti46XdFd83X-ESZ0gUqHAuQEYUkirYOVCOSj3qSIQRVh2RwQ_fSS4M3OubnLJuQ5omZRk_vvZKVwKGr-9_b7_VEYgeioqADTZ20muYjVc52BKUgEweEa5Ye8LSDzxD4O4yOGW1_pPQq6HSATdeUtKxYP2mFqv3Ekr3AMEDE/w523-h239/Blood%20&%20Water%2019.jpg" width="523" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-14046257571569050912023-07-17T21:00:00.001-07:002023-07-17T21:00:00.143-07:00❤Inside the Pages: An Atomic Love Story: The Extraordinary Women in Robert Oppenheimer's Life by Shirley Streshinsky & Patricia Klaus #AnAtomicLoveStory<p>
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<p></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="78" data-original-width="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOiIC8VCxt8bzfmkixpHy_9lQSbjzwe1aIin2qRPAQMfLvnpCTkQPImuBPMKc-Jcvy3KeEpb0zy6XH5G1OGdfkuOPZh-hVqVGIgrT5avPriJA_aZvNiu92YGwn_fLXz44aRs2iAa9Si8/s1600/inside+the+pages.png" style="border: medium none; color: #b81a09; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; position: relative;" /></p></div><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbkFpwnRWPjZbzBprIng3A-iC-5brq3dcdFXtcinjQGz_Dsr69PJmrC9jCvQq7yyIVlj51PhWBxE-84L8TCQxRmuRw6sZh5TPlYDGG70vn3dgjY9jf0PVVMhY_RvqAA1ZcZ_mTHtzTvGMBqg06Np33DZzIfVsix0kO-X7Hq0UFshue662C_mb0DbJ8WBw/s500/An%20Atomic%20Love%20Story%20lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbkFpwnRWPjZbzBprIng3A-iC-5brq3dcdFXtcinjQGz_Dsr69PJmrC9jCvQq7yyIVlj51PhWBxE-84L8TCQxRmuRw6sZh5TPlYDGG70vn3dgjY9jf0PVVMhY_RvqAA1ZcZ_mTHtzTvGMBqg06Np33DZzIfVsix0kO-X7Hq0UFshue662C_mb0DbJ8WBw/s320/An%20Atomic%20Love%20Story%20lg.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Title: An Atomic Love Story: The Extraordinary Women in Robert Oppenheimer’s Life<br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Author: Shirley Streshinsky & Patricia Klaus</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publisher: Turner Publishing Company</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Pages: 380</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Genre: Nonfiction/History</span><p></p><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Set against a dramatic backdrop of war, spies, and nuclear bombs, <i>An Atomic Love Story </i>unveils
a vivid new view of a tumultuous era and one of its most important
figures. In the early decades of the 20th century, three highly
ambitious women found their way to the West Coast, where each was
destined to collide with the young Oppenheimer, the enigmatic physicist
whose work in creating the atomic bomb would forever impact modern
history. His first and most intense love was for Jean Tatlock, though he
married the tempestuous Kitty Harrison—both were members of the
Communist Party—and was rumored to have had a scandalous affair with the
brilliant Ruth Sherman Tolman, ten years his senior and the wife of
another celebrated physicist. Although each were connected through their
relationship to Oppenheimer, their experiences reflect important
changes in the lives of American women in the 20th century: the conflict
between career and marriage; the need for a woman to define herself
independently; experimentation with sexuality; and the growth of career
opportunities. </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Beautifully written
and superbly researched through a rich collection of firsthand accounts,
this intimate portrait shares the tragedies, betrayals, and romances of
an alluring man and three bold women, revealing how they pushed to the
very forefront of social and cultural changes in a fascinating, volatile
era. </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Amazon: <a href="https://tinyurl.com/3zpafmk5">https://tinyurl.com/3zpafmk5 </a></span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Bookshop: <a href="https://tinyurl.com/2ecxvwjt">https://tinyurl.com2ecxvwjt </a></span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Target: <a href="https://tinyurl.com/4r39hn3m">https://tinyurl.com/4r39hn3m </a></span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Barnes & Noble: <a href="https://tinyurl.com/4pj6t9d2">https://tinyurl.com/4pj6t9d2 </a></span></p>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17290412-an-atomic-love-story">https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17290412-an-atomic-love-story</a></span><p><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s454/book+excerpt.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="76" data-original-width="454" height="54" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s320/book+excerpt.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: left;">June 14, 1943</p><p></p>
<p><strong><em>The light was fading by the time Robert Oppenheimer left Le Conte Hall.</em></strong></p>
<p>He walked across campus at his usual fast clip, heading for the
streetcar that would take him into San Francisco. He would have allowed
his mind to skim over the consequences of what he was about to do. Not
that he was weighing them; he had already made the decision to see Jean
Tatlock. It would be more of an exercise to keep his mind occupied, to
block the uncertainty of how he would find her.</p>
<p>Radiant or remorseful. Perfect or flawed.</p>
<p>There would be hell to pay, that he knew. He would have stopped to
light a cigarette, maybe taking the opportunity to glance around for the
Army security agent he knew would be there. He was too important to the
war effort to be allowed to go loose in the world. His slender,
six-foot frame and his signature porkpie hat made him an easy target to
tail. The security agents would inform Pash, and Pash would be delighted
to inform General Groves, and the general would be livid.</p>
<p>Oppenheimer was the new scientific director of the Los Alamos section
of the Manhattan Project, hidden on a mesa high in the Sangre de Cristo
Mountains of New Mexico. It was possible that seeing Jean could cause
him to be removed from the project altogether. The idea was so
disturbing that it would have had to be put out of his mind, along with
the wife and two-year-old son he left behind in Los Alamos.</p>
<p>After one last deep drag of his cigarette, he would have flicked it
away, then swung onto the Key System train that would carry him over the
Oakland Bay Bridge and into the city. He was thirty-nine that June.
Jean was twenty-nine. They had known each other, loved each other, for
seven years. He would always want her; twice he had come close to
marrying her.</p>
<p>Three months before, when he had been about to leave Berkeley for Los
Alamos, Jean had asked to see him, but he had not gone to her then. Too
much was happening, too fast. He wasn’t allowed to tell her why he was
leaving or where he was going, could not confide what he and a
remarkable band of scientists were attempting to create. Probably he was
glad for that; Jean would not have approved.</p>
<p>She was one of the most principled people he had ever known; she
believed above all else in the sanctity of life. She was a physician
now, a resident in psychiatry at Mount Zion Hospital, working with
troubled children. She did not know that ending World War II might
depend on his group’s ability to develop a weapon of mass destruction so
horrific it would defeat America’s enemies, unless the Germans got it
first. That grim possibility played on his mind. The Germans were intent
on conquering all of Europe, the world. Would Jean, with her kind and
open heart, be able to grasp the enormity of such a catastrophe?</p>
<p><em>Oppenheimer arrived at 9:45 PWT, </em>the FBI report reads. <em>He rushed to</em> <em>meet a young lady, whom he kissed and they walked away arm in arm. They entered</em> <em>a 1935 green Plymouth coupe and the young lady drove. The car is registered to Jean</em> <em>Tatlock. She is five foot seven, 128 [pounds], long dark hair, slim, attractive.</em></p>
<p>She drove east along the Embarcadero—the scene of much of the labor unrest she had reported in the <em>Western Worker</em>—then
turned west on Broadway. She had decided where they would eat; not one
of the posh restaurants he would have chosen, but a shabby place not far
from her apartment on Telegraph Hill, good for the spicy food he
favored and some proletarian privacy. An agent waited outside.</p>
<p>He would report: <em>Drove to Xochiniloc Cafe, 787 Broadway, at 10 p.m. Cheap type bar,</em> <em>cafe, and dance hall operated by Mexicans. Had few drinks, something to eat, went</em> <em>to 1405 Montgomery where she lives on top floor...Appears to be very affectionate and intimate...At 11:30 lights went out.</em></p>
<p>Within two weeks, Lieutenant Colonel Boris Pash, chief of
counterintelligence for the Ninth Army Corps in San Francisco, would
send a memo to the Pentagon recommending that Dr. Oppenheimer be denied a
security clearance and be fired as scientific director of the Manhattan
Project, citing among other things this overnight tryst with Jean
Tatlock, identified as his mistress and a known Communist.</p></blockquote><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><p> </p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/s589/about+the+author+7.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="70" data-original-width="589" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/w640-h76/about+the+author+7.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="640" /></span></a></p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Shirley Streshinsky</strong>
is a critically acclaimed author of three works of nonfiction and four
historical novels. As a journalist and travel essayist, she has written
extensively for a wide range of national magazines such as <em>Glamour, Preservation, American Heritage, The American Scholar</em>, and <em>Conde Nast Traveler</em>.
She is the recipient of the Society of Magazine Writers’ Award for
Excellence and the National Council for the Advancement of Education
Writing award, and was cited by The Educational Press Association of
America for “superlative achievement in features.” Her travel essays
have been a feature on National Public Radio. She was married to the
late photojournalist Ted Streshinsky and lives in Kensington (Berkeley),
California. </span></p>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Patricia Klaus</strong>
is an independent scholar who attended the University of California at
Santa Barbara, and then Stanford University where she earned a Ph.D. in
Modern British History. She taught twentieth-century British history at
Yale University, was a visiting lecturer at the University of Virginia
and Stanford, and has written a number of historical articles. Her
particular interests are women in nineteenth and twentieth century
England as well as the study of war and literature, which made working
on a book about the remarkable women of the Atomic Age especially
appealing.</span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXfclb16kp42eOGQ6tBnhqgxRohhniI7aZKKgb3RoLVX43HzEnFMzXS8YFB4JntJohUq1WtegtLR5Y7L_bgj1HdQ-64MMEVcG8avi9qiUrUzI-y3HGzGDnsiWb9kIObq7NJ86ptFEfHpPsby_Wf29LVbgmm0iqWsLv9OAavTlzG5GuonrLOC49jvgatY/s800/An%20Atomic%20Love%20Story%2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="374" data-original-width="800" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXfclb16kp42eOGQ6tBnhqgxRohhniI7aZKKgb3RoLVX43HzEnFMzXS8YFB4JntJohUq1WtegtLR5Y7L_bgj1HdQ-64MMEVcG8avi9qiUrUzI-y3HGzGDnsiWb9kIObq7NJ86ptFEfHpPsby_Wf29LVbgmm0iqWsLv9OAavTlzG5GuonrLOC49jvgatY/w640-h300/An%20Atomic%20Love%20Story%2012.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-85376145483852925282023-07-13T04:51:00.001-07:002023-07-13T04:51:18.158-07:00Author Guest Post: What Is Flawesome by Kristina Mand-Lakhiani #BecomingFlawesome<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh91moMh4Zwt0Nj1H0T3m3bzOeOynhHBCu8uhWql4y8bIqrPOFP12BgcOwCSyRvG5cyqQE_zkaJ0sfMcbk7aWoVSihZ5uge0cDIzWrb_rGvZbRHSuIFu9o7P_T_v9VhYJ8e8rwEBleo1ribyRrdzt6yhUph-qyLjtTBaSNRy-F4_QazqdJ65unqtv1ZpBY/s927/Becoming%20Flawesome%20lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="927" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh91moMh4Zwt0Nj1H0T3m3bzOeOynhHBCu8uhWql4y8bIqrPOFP12BgcOwCSyRvG5cyqQE_zkaJ0sfMcbk7aWoVSihZ5uge0cDIzWrb_rGvZbRHSuIFu9o7P_T_v9VhYJ8e8rwEBleo1ribyRrdzt6yhUph-qyLjtTBaSNRy-F4_QazqdJ65unqtv1ZpBY/s320/Becoming%20Flawesome%20lg.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>Author: Kristina Mand-Lakhiani<br />Publisher: Hay House<br />Pages: 280<br />Genre: Nonfiction<br /></span></span><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://tinyurl.com/mwtzj3jx" target="_blank">Amazon</a><br /><a href="https://www.mindvalley.com/books/flawesome" target="_blank">Mind Valley Books</a></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Perfection. We all dream of living by it, feeling it, being
it…<br />
And it is in the name of perfection that we demonise our flaws, make ourselves
‘less-than,’ and render ourselves vulnerable to the shame of not being good
enough.<br />
We live in a society that subliminally encourages us to wear metaphorical
masks, slay our inner sadness, and ignore our imperfections, or as Kristina
refers to them, her ‘dragons.’ <b>Even within the world of personal development
and spirituality, toxic perfectionism lurks in the shadows. <br /></b><b><br /></b>In Kristina’s upcoming book Becoming Flawesome
#BecomingFlawesome, she reflects on her own story, her <b>battle against
perfectionism</b>, and what it took for her to return to what she now deems to
be her most authentic self. Being described as “<b>10 years worth of therapy in
one book,</b>” Becoming Flawsome is a celebration of our whole selves,
warts and all, and the glory that is to be found in living in our truth. <br />
Every chapter is closed with reflection points and exercises to encourage the
readers to dive deep into the essence of who they truly are, what their values
are, and how to navigate an oftentimes overwhelming world. <br />
In this book, Kristina breaks the mould as she takes the reader on a journey
through:<br /><br /></span></span><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
dark, controversial side of ‘personal growth,’ and the insecurities that
thrive on it</span></span></li></ul><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Self-care
vs self-love, and why you need both</span></span></li></ul><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What
authenticity actually is, beyond the buzz</span></span></li></ul><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
‘Hermione Syndrome,’ and how to diagnose if you’re secretly suffering from
it</span></span></li></ul><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">How to
create aligned lifestyle habits that stick</span></span></li></ul><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Why
the more you judge others, the more you judge yourself</span></span></li></ul><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Societal
masks, and how to remove them from your psyche </span></span></li></ul><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Imposter
syndrome in the world of high-flyers </span></span></li></ul><ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Emotional
literacy: how to cope with strong, painful emotions healthily </span></span></li></ul><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">What is Becoming Flawesome? </span></div> <br />Being deeply involved in the personal growth industry for 20
years, surrounded by professional friends who have written and published
successful books, I always assumed that I would write a book. It seemed like a
natural progression within our industry. However, my tendency to be brutally
honest with myself presented a challenge. I knew that I would only write a book
when I had something meaningful to contribute. This realization took years because
I had been focused on my work as an entrepreneur and marketer, helping other
authors convey their messages and teaching their methods. It was only after
some time that I recognized I had my own unique perspective to share, even if
it drew inspiration from the teachings of others. <br /> <br />At a certain point, I felt a strong desire to share a
message with the world, and that was the moment I knew I was ready to write the
book. I sat down and began the writing process. However, my initial concern was
finding the right publisher. Given my deep involvement in the industry, I felt
a strong inclination to publish with an exceptional and reputable publisher. I
hesitated to publish independently, as I felt it would not align with the ideas
I embraced as a co-founder of a prominent company in our field. It dawned on me
that if I wanted to write a book about staying true to myself, my values, and
authenticity, I needed to do it on my own terms. This realization led me to
choose self-publishing, enabling me to make independent decisions about
content, writing style, and the order in which it would be presented. The
initial version of the book carried a rebellious tone, reflecting this newfound
autonomy.<br /> <br />However, upon completing the manuscript and preparing for
publication, an unexpected opportunity arose. A reputable publisher, one that I
had admired for some time, expressed interest in publishing my book. At that
point, I felt that my book could benefit from being associated with a
well-established publisher like Hay House. I agreed to work with them under the
condition that they would allow me to retain my unique and somewhat obstinate
style. Although additional editing was done in collaboration with Hay House,
the book still maintains some of its unconventional nature. In essence, this
book represents a small act of rebellion, which aligns well with its topic. This
book will help you to find your way back to your most authentic self, break
free from toxic perfectionism, and start living flawesomely - find the courage
to be completely honest with yourself, and kindness in your heart to love and
accept yourself unconditionally.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><b> </b><br /><i><a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/1BHYz1-0BzJ4XUOGIIZwnymF4WHLyQ8ZP/view?usp=share_link"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/1BHYz1-0BzJ4XUOGIIZwnymF4WHLyQ8ZP/view?usp=share_link"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIpNkitPPpw7wAWEWubtbZNhHZ39OwDhLXPRqq2VIwsOoxfMoUjoP03a0mn_5dJdH2Qzj35nG3-a5tZgpQ8pL-Vph35bBboQSfy5wEV9Ojzhx68PispPJKf3XohyX8B7mEWPUWiCpKanbmnvZb3HWoLcHl1dxwZ6nKEybtRo2F90_NyOFjlInSBcgssrc/s752/Kristina%20Mand-Lakhiani%20lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="423" data-original-width="752" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIpNkitPPpw7wAWEWubtbZNhHZ39OwDhLXPRqq2VIwsOoxfMoUjoP03a0mn_5dJdH2Qzj35nG3-a5tZgpQ8pL-Vph35bBboQSfy5wEV9Ojzhx68PispPJKf3XohyX8B7mEWPUWiCpKanbmnvZb3HWoLcHl1dxwZ6nKEybtRo2F90_NyOFjlInSBcgssrc/s320/Kristina%20Mand-Lakhiani%20lg.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Kristina
Mand-Lakhiani is an international speaker, entrepreneur, artist,
philanthropist, and mother of 2 kids. As a co-founder of <a href="http://mindvalley.com/">Mindvalley</a>, a leading publisher in the
personal growth industry, Kristina dedicated the last 20 years of her career
from teachers like Michael Beckwith, Bob Proctor, Lisa Nichols, and many
more. <br /> <br />She started her career in a government office in her native
Estonia and, by her mid-20s, achieved a level of success mostly known to male
politicians at the end of their careers. It was shortly after that Kristina and
her then-husband Vishen founded Mindvalley. From a small meditation business
operating out of the couple’s apartment in New York, the company quickly grew
into a global educational organization offering top training for peak human
performance to hundreds of thousands of students all around the world. <br /> <br />Kristina believes life is too important to be taken
seriously and makes sure to bring fun into every one of her roles: as a
teacher, mother, entrepreneur, philanthropist, and world traveller. Kristina
helps her students to virtually hack happiness by taking them through her
unique framework - “Hacking happiness” - a unique framework of balancing your
life, taking in every moment, and paying close attention to the small daily
choices. <br /> <br />Kristina is also the author of three transformational quests
- <a href="https://kristinamand.com/7-days-to-happiness/">"7 Days To
Happiness</a>", <a href="https://kristinamand.com/#programs">"Live By
Your Own Rules.</a>” and "The Art of Being Flawesome". Kristina talks
about personal transformation, authenticity, understanding and accepting
oneself, and a path to happiness.<br /> <br />In July 2023, with the help of Hay House Publishing,
Kristina releases her very first book - "<a href="http://mindvalley.com/book/flawesome">Becoming Flawesome</a>"
#BecomingFlawesome. In her book, Kristina shares her own journey from being on
top of a personal growth empire like Mindvalley to stepping aside, conscious
uncoupling from her husband, and walking her path towards being more honest
with herself. </i></span></span><br /> <br /><a href="https://kristinamand.com/" target="_blank">Website</a><br /><a href="https://www.facebook.com/kristinamand" target="_blank">Facebook</a> <br /><a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/kristina-mand-lakhiani-73168414/" target="_blank">LinkedIn</a> <br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-91523988282257910652023-07-11T21:00:00.001-07:002023-07-11T21:00:00.139-07:00❤Inside the Pages: Mom's Search for Meaning by Melissa M. Monroe #MomsSearchforMeaning<p> </p>
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<p></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="78" data-original-width="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOiIC8VCxt8bzfmkixpHy_9lQSbjzwe1aIin2qRPAQMfLvnpCTkQPImuBPMKc-Jcvy3KeEpb0zy6XH5G1OGdfkuOPZh-hVqVGIgrT5avPriJA_aZvNiu92YGwn_fLXz44aRs2iAa9Si8/s1600/inside+the+pages.png" style="border: medium none; color: #b81a09; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; position: relative;" /></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></b></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f;"></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1cV7sWgGi7fslHZjx-ReyKVBzMSA9auAFOb1zryDJ-n3r779yqZ41o8zx-F0oNsYwefVM2kBBiOnqzASXR_hvd7HC22M3XnpSOAwD3Gj-uqSziwlNjaodyoKX6BSZYjqKGzo8osCVXY0faMNBlJYNz9B-au1CHyvGt_HZrQ0Hm53BGyeqbcdaNNDBl-k/s630/Mom's%20Search%20for%20Meaning%20lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="419" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1cV7sWgGi7fslHZjx-ReyKVBzMSA9auAFOb1zryDJ-n3r779yqZ41o8zx-F0oNsYwefVM2kBBiOnqzASXR_hvd7HC22M3XnpSOAwD3Gj-uqSziwlNjaodyoKX6BSZYjqKGzo8osCVXY0faMNBlJYNz9B-au1CHyvGt_HZrQ0Hm53BGyeqbcdaNNDBl-k/s320/Mom's%20Search%20for%20Meaning%20lg.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Title: Mom's Search for Meaning</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Author: Melissa M. Monroe</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publisher: Independent</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Pages: 276</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="color: black;"> Genre: Memoir</span></span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-3062120283122918212" itemprop="description articleBody"><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Paralyzed by guilt,
grief, and PTSD after her 2-year-old daughter Alice died in her sleep of
unknown causes, acupuncturist Melissa Monroe determined not to become a
victim in the story of her life. While taking the advice she had given
to many grief and trauma patients throughout the years, hoping she could
create a meaningful life without closure, she took notes throughout her
healing process. </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Struggling to advance
her timeline beyond that of her daughter’s – and still eager to be the
keeper of Alice’s stories – Melissa began to write about Alice’s life
and the impact of her death. She became her own lab rat, trying various
approaches to healing with the hope that her experience might be helpful
to others stuck in a trauma time loop. </span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">As much a study of trauma’s effect on time perception as it is an intimate view into the heart and mind of a bereaved mother, <em>Mom’s Search for Meaning</em> shows us that meaning resides in the search itself…with a spoonful of gallows humor to help the medicine go down.</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Praise:</span></p>
<p>“Melissa doesn’t just say the way out is through, she very much takes
us through what that looks like. And in being so specific, I think it’s
universally relatable. The final chapter is “To be, or not to be”-level
work. This is mom-loss Shakespeare.” Teresa Strasser, author of <i>Exploiting My Baby</i>, the upcoming <i>Making It Home</i>, and co-host of the syndicated TV show <i>The Lis</i>t</p>
<p>“Melissa’s book provides powerful testimony to the strength of the
human spirit and our vulnerable, complicated, and yet inspirational
ability to heal.” Kim Cookson, Psy.D., founder of the Trauma and
Resiliency Training and Services Program at the Southern California
Counseling Center</p>
<p>“It is the story of how one person found her way – with grief and
with pain, but also with humor and grace – back to a life that would be
forever different, but which couldn’t be, and wouldn’t be, anything less
than purposeful and honest.” Dan Koeppel, author of <i>To See Every Bird on Earth</i>, <i>Banana: The Fate of the Fruit That Changed the World</i>, and <i>Every Minute is a Day</i></p>
<p>“The explorations of compassion are deep, Melissa’s march toward love
is inspiring, and the writing is beautiful. It is a book about child
loss that – at times – made me laugh out loud. I will never stop
thinking about this book. And I am so glad.” Liz Friedlander, film and
television director</p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Amazon: <a href="https://tinyurl.com/yrmuumc6">https://tinyurl.com/yrmuumc6</a><br />
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Barnes & Noble: <a href="https://tinyurl.com/mryd9z7s">https://tinyurl.com/mryd9z7s</a><br />
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/123189454">https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/123189454</a><br />
</span></p>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Billy Dees Podcast: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMzd6XXm-kU">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMzd6XXm-kU</a></span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></span>
<p></p><p></p><p style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.9); box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s454/book+excerpt.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="76" data-original-width="454" height="54" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRRD4Ct-DWVm1Um7wsEXQ2jkyzPm_AfpQdbfeEKW2hBBUPE6ebWbW0UgK3558Ei39MRDWs7UVanyswyQhB5NdQ6s-qJGFgcASuDAOYR_AAQjkHw94yVUFEUuihgU7ugrdMEDp9d00gQA/s320/book+excerpt.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: left;"><i>"When everything we love turns to ash, all we have is love. I began
to realize that if I marched toward the love — even on a day when I felt
like shit — I would always be guided and surrounded by love. If I
cursed the path, I wouldn’t see the love that was all around me and
would find a cursed path.</i></p><p></p>
<p><i>When Alice died, it became crystal clear to me that nothing
matters but love. That clarity was notable because not one other thing
was clear. But more importantly, I began to see that love doesn’t die.
My love for Alice went nowhere; I just didn’t know what to do with all
that love when her body was no longer here, when I could not interact
with her personality or hug her chubby belly. It was clear to me my love
for her survived though her body did not. I could still feel her,
though I couldn’t see or touch her. Grief is love in the absence of the
recipient of the love.</i></p>
<p><i>Grief is the phantom limb of love.</i></p>
<p><i>This meant I had to learn how to love someone no longer here ...
and to do that, I had to focus on the love that was here. And there was
so much love around me, thank God.”</i></p></blockquote><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><p> </p><p style="background-color: white; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/s589/about+the+author+7.png" style="color: #ff1900; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: Spartan; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="70" data-original-width="589" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RuUtNEXYIPGQ8tWSkJf42sKJWFKwa_ga6g5nzyAoBqQD6BLcAP9yWW-BzjMMclSkkrZCc5i4WE2sJooiOq2a7_fTjxkrbHBUQYKaFJMob-fwV-ZspANfrMDyxavZR7NNxduzBA0po5s/w640-h76/about+the+author+7.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="640" /></span></a></p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><br /><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0luyCmwFBocB7hn03nkntVxriw3iEjMXkxZKv7OTBhPF7cZKXd8xQDMxkhYJkRNoKdvqNSI8kQdIf3Tg5GIujwNFHVwcnv8he3neNg5rC0LOBAbGnJMHN-LhTGkEY3jSXJoe2Dsg3Iv9a3MKBgLeLEXCVNzvFhJe9KaNICYGsY9kbeyNWNYr9Q10frJc/s1100/Mellisa%20M.%20Monroe%20and%20child.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="1099" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0luyCmwFBocB7hn03nkntVxriw3iEjMXkxZKv7OTBhPF7cZKXd8xQDMxkhYJkRNoKdvqNSI8kQdIf3Tg5GIujwNFHVwcnv8he3neNg5rC0LOBAbGnJMHN-LhTGkEY3jSXJoe2Dsg3Iv9a3MKBgLeLEXCVNzvFhJe9KaNICYGsY9kbeyNWNYr9Q10frJc/s320/Mellisa%20M.%20Monroe%20and%20child.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Now living in Los
Angeles with her daughter Grace, Melissa M. Monroe was born in Yuma, AZ.
She attended Loyola University in Chicago. After finishing at Loyola,
she studied modern dance at University of Chicago. In 1995, she moved to
California to train in Pilates, yoga, and acupuncture, which she
practices as a professional. <p></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Website: <a href="http://www.melissamariemonroe.com">http://www.melissamariemonroe.com </a><br />
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/tripleMMeaning">https://twitter.com/tripleMMeaning</a><br />
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/MelissaMarieMonroeAuthor">https://www.facebook.com/MelissaMarieMonroeAuthor</a><br />
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Tik Tok: <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@triplemmeaning">https://www.tiktok.com/@triplemmeaning</a><br />
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Instagram: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/melissammonroe/">https://www.instagram.com/melissammonroe/</a><br />
</span></p>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">LinkedIn: <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/melissa-monroe-b0b1197/">https://www.linkedin.com/in/melissa-monroe-b0b1197/</a></span><p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcIaVUB6k3prkhSrnBFIHLhHc05JMLqRTlfYue2h9Z1s6MfX-F8WVIYsgxa3alGbgChV2wQgRIfTTYIsTSTtc7XjHeGZW80PlnpR_BTG8Y_oc0i-k09k_lsbHZWyCTSBmLeI_GlwXpLF6lzOdeEEFS7AnQxyMK8gRPfCMZTKFRcGvStD5P05L4Ijs3sTs/s793/Mom's%20Search%20for%20Meaning%2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="358" data-original-width="793" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcIaVUB6k3prkhSrnBFIHLhHc05JMLqRTlfYue2h9Z1s6MfX-F8WVIYsgxa3alGbgChV2wQgRIfTTYIsTSTtc7XjHeGZW80PlnpR_BTG8Y_oc0i-k09k_lsbHZWyCTSBmLeI_GlwXpLF6lzOdeEEFS7AnQxyMK8gRPfCMZTKFRcGvStD5P05L4Ijs3sTs/w640-h288/Mom's%20Search%20for%20Meaning%2011.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-44058790480308092042023-07-09T21:00:00.002-07:002023-08-06T06:21:59.009-07:00❤Author Interview: Dark Urban Fantasy Romance Author Jo Denning #authorinterview #fantasy #romance <p style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_9zb5w4fgbcSexgkBoWvkVt_rBpNvKGcBucX7ifmbeCxef7o8CwfDwYWhQI1GIOS8FR-Wo_ebQxZGktWQE0ztFq1KCkWuFVylRgTK5z5X2DraZJaDs2JDoU1UjibB8F4R35-kaV3lUnsXC-7yIBzkXA_tDIMY6a3IismR_AqJCOjnt_Kz7giDZKSF0bI/s640/Hush%20Hush%20City%2023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_9zb5w4fgbcSexgkBoWvkVt_rBpNvKGcBucX7ifmbeCxef7o8CwfDwYWhQI1GIOS8FR-Wo_ebQxZGktWQE0ztFq1KCkWuFVylRgTK5z5X2DraZJaDs2JDoU1UjibB8F4R35-kaV3lUnsXC-7yIBzkXA_tDIMY6a3IismR_AqJCOjnt_Kz7giDZKSF0bI/w640-h480/Hush%20Hush%20City%2023.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><br /><p></p><p></p>
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<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name"><a href="https://nuttinbutbooks2.blogspot.com/2022/09/author-interview-middle-grade-fantasy.html"></a>
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<p style="text-align: left;">Jo Denning is the author of the Saoirse
Reilly series. She has spent her career as a behavioral health therapist
supporting kids and teens who struggle with addiction. Jo began writing
supernatural crime thrillers as a way of processing the traumatic
things she has seen and heard. Her characters may be supernatural but
their stories, their fear, and their pain are real. So, too, are the
triumphs over impossible odds.<br /></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">When she’s not writing, Jo enjoys baking,
drawing, and watching trashy reality TV. She makes her home somewhere in
the contiguous United States with her husband, one fluffy cat, and one
barely domesticated cat.</p>
<p><span style="font-size: large;">Let’s Connect!</span><br /></p>
<p><a href="https://www.jodenning.com/">Website </a>| <a href="https://twitter.com/jo_denning">Twitter </a>| <a href="https://www.facebook.com/people/Author-Jo-Denning/100075794838908/">Facebook </a>| <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21978316.Jo_Denning">Goodreads</a></p><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-8971611944784384887" itemprop="description articleBody"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QhK2Lx2l19ojhMwANoiqMj9UnJ0lGxlHgzIrtg_F3kBi-wptt9PEGc66L59T0pEfq-tpnjtBLaYRezypzsQEEr-_wD9dlXEReTVhXXMyxgnb3TyZITF69NOI-cM0I33aoFsHRIUKEKM/s1600/interview+7.png" style="color: #b81a09; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="69" data-original-width="335" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QhK2Lx2l19ojhMwANoiqMj9UnJ0lGxlHgzIrtg_F3kBi-wptt9PEGc66L59T0pEfq-tpnjtBLaYRezypzsQEEr-_wD9dlXEReTVhXXMyxgnb3TyZITF69NOI-cM0I33aoFsHRIUKEKM/s320/interview+7.png" style="border: medium none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #1f0f0f; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span>
</p><p>
</p><p>
</p><p>
</p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>What attracted you to the urban fantasy genre?</b></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">I’ve always loved fantasy and fairy tales. As I got older, I also developed an interest in mystery and darker, grittier stories. Urban fantasy is a good mix of both.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnOEZi9MyXQcC62EfcViNyekZpg0-RbZpnXDKW8EjhkIVABx4UvwPPc-wXjLhE1HnDs3wL_cXoyCByoCh875woPVDJZBYDhyCAoobrnvU4NgrkgBQtSlcjDKdkY9IUTL-66yf0UZlB1Ms8N0HKGOeNvpy-3oNZtIckHltiATJY-Uby2MC4-qn9iCaZiLE/s4297/Hush%20Hush%20City%20lg.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4297" data-original-width="2820" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnOEZi9MyXQcC62EfcViNyekZpg0-RbZpnXDKW8EjhkIVABx4UvwPPc-wXjLhE1HnDs3wL_cXoyCByoCh875woPVDJZBYDhyCAoobrnvU4NgrkgBQtSlcjDKdkY9IUTL-66yf0UZlB1Ms8N0HKGOeNvpy-3oNZtIckHltiATJY-Uby2MC4-qn9iCaZiLE/w420-h640/Hush%20Hush%20City%20lg.jpg" width="420" /></a></b></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br />Do you write in any other genres?</b></span><p></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Urban fantasy is such a broad genre and, for that reason, it describes my books well. The Saoirse Reilly series includes high fantasy and romance but it is still solidly an urban fantasy series.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>What inspired you to write Hush Hush City?</b></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">I always knew Dead Blood City would have a sequel. I wanted to address some of the questions readers had about Reilly’s heritage and her burgeoning powers. Other inspirations included Norse myths of the undead, the overlap of Viking and Irish culture, and the long, troubled history between Ukraine and Russia. But my overarching inspiration for the book was imagining someone presented with a series of distinct choices and choosing wrong every single time. Where would they end up?</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Can you give us your book blurb so others can find out what your book is about?</b></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Cruel Prince meets Law & Order in Hush Hush City, the thrilling sequel to Dead Blood City and second installment in the Saoirse Reilly series!</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Saoirse Reilly, police detective and wayward psychic, is still reeling from the events of Dead Blood City. Her lies are piling up but there's no time to deal. She and her loved ones are in danger once again. While investigating the murder of a Boston blueblood, Reilly is drawn into a supernatural power struggle centuries in the making.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Ancient monsters are prowling the streets and Domenico Alderisi, newly installed vrykolakas master, needs Reilly’s help securing his territory—which just so happens to be her hometown. Alderisi, once her enemy, may be the only one who can save the city. But he has his own agenda and a taste for Reilly's blood.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">The only way for Reilly to protect all she holds dear may be to rely on her two-faced teacher, Dr. Emrys Somerled. The criminal psychologist and occult expert is something more than human. If anyone can take on monsters, it's him. And he'd like to get closer to Reilly than ever before. There’s just one problem. Somerled is keeping secrets, too, and there's nothing more dangerous. After all…</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Stepping out of the silence is scary but secrets can kill.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Will Reilly escape the web of death and deception?</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Find out in this urban fantasy meets gritty noir detective novel featuring imperfect heroes and slow burn dark romance with beautiful monsters who can’t be trusted.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>How can readers discover more about you and your work?</b></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Personal website: <a href="https://www.jodenning.com">https://www.jodenning.com</a> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">TikTok: <a href="http://tiktok.com/@jodenningwrites">http://tiktok.com/@jodenningwrites</a> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Instagram: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/jdenningwrites">https://www.instagram.com/jdenningwrites</a> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/jo_denning">https://twitter.com/jo_denning</a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Pinterest: <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/jdenningwrites">https://www.pinterest.com/jdenningwrites</a> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Goodreads: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/131869501-jo-denning">https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/131869501-jo-denning</a> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Where can readers buy your book?</b></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">You can read Dead Blood City, the first book in the Saoirse Reilly series, plus Shattered City, a collection of prequel-ish short stories, free by subscribing at <a href="https://www.jodenning.com">https://www.jodenning.com</a></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">You can buy Hush Hush City, print or Kindle, on Amazon: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Hush-City-Fantasy-Romance-Saoirse-ebook/dp/B0BW6V6YZC/ref=sr_1_1?crid=I9LB6HRI1VM5&keywords=hush+hush+city&qid=1684694614&s=books&sprefix=hush+hush+cit%2Cstripbooks%2C201&sr=1-1">https://www.amazon.com/Hush-City-Fantasy-Romance-Saoirse-ebook/dp/B0BW6V6YZC/ref=sr_1_1?crid=I9LB6HRI1VM5&keywords=hush+hush+city&qid=1684694614&s=books&sprefix=hush+hush+cit%2Cstripbooks%2C201&sr=1-1</a> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Thank you very much for taking the time out of your busy schedule to take part in this interview. What’s next for you?</b></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;">I’m hard at work on the third book in the Saoirse Reilly series, Black Sight City, so named because it will be the darkest installment yet.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-73292280005920003392023-07-04T21:00:00.001-07:002023-07-04T21:00:00.149-07:00Happy Book Birthday: SMOOTH: LIFE HACKS TO GET YOU SMOOTHLY THROUGH CHEMO #bookbirthday #nonfiction #Smooth @CeliaBonaduce<div><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlfN71qDZAE69pRq3gGEdhHED2ZiLep1XErA7J2zPa5FGn6XRm1v-k1GAusYA4k7KbFHdtkaM5YKeXEi91NQakCgOgOrKl49IM0aDId382e9FpFNJdTSxuJGAETWKMd-OutnFCpUp_Gdtr_4G89ymsPr_wnQeCizuBQU1IIPPfBqfrpahRjetNMFEIeg/s640/Smooth%20Happy%20Birthday%20Bash%20Invitation.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlfN71qDZAE69pRq3gGEdhHED2ZiLep1XErA7J2zPa5FGn6XRm1v-k1GAusYA4k7KbFHdtkaM5YKeXEi91NQakCgOgOrKl49IM0aDId382e9FpFNJdTSxuJGAETWKMd-OutnFCpUp_Gdtr_4G89ymsPr_wnQeCizuBQU1IIPPfBqfrpahRjetNMFEIeg/w574-h430/Smooth%20Happy%20Birthday%20Bash%20Invitation.jpg" width="574" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Cookie;"><span>We're
thrilled to announce the release of Celia Bonaduce's new book, SMOOTH: LIFE HACKS TO GET YOU SMOOTHLY THROUGH CHEMO today!
To help celebrate, we are asking our readers if you can please pretty
please pick up a copy at<a href="https://tinyurl.com/ywf2mjc3" style="color: #15a3a3; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"> Amazon</a> and come back and tell us how you liked it? Or, leave a review while you're there!</span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Cookie;"><span> </span></span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Cookie;"><span> </span></span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Cookie;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM_YQg3D-e1x-w-MLw4xzXhfb8vcZXhjOwQQwjevdideQwAv5z_zT4vMFyLyLmhOmINbVqKYAe9gft0iVgyTiQ201VU0EETyT1fMLZlvSmJuJ9_LvdeCMr8bKyFsq_YarJaqS1a5N3FbLWHl_r7Fh12gZYDHkU2iO5MbOFIhQHKNJJpXfXkvgU93k/s716/happy%20book%20birthday%206.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="330" data-original-width="716" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM_YQg3D-e1x-w-MLw4xzXhfb8vcZXhjOwQQwjevdideQwAv5z_zT4vMFyLyLmhOmINbVqKYAe9gft0iVgyTiQ201VU0EETyT1fMLZlvSmJuJ9_LvdeCMr8bKyFsq_YarJaqS1a5N3FbLWHl_r7Fh12gZYDHkU2iO5MbOFIhQHKNJJpXfXkvgU93k/w553-h254/happy%20book%20birthday%206.jpg" width="553" /></a></div><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-family: Cookie;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;">Congratulations, Celia, on your new release, Smooth: Life Hacks to Get You Smoothly Through Chemo!</span></span></span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arvo; font-size: 15.4px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #222222; font-family: Arvo; font-size: 15.4px; text-align: center;"></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arvo; font-size: 15.4px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #222222; font-family: Arvo; font-size: 15.4px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi28C4_3rVXOXfd99OwdFZsvvk2dZ4Dj4iE9NsXbOqDSaRZF0-RYLS61XKmRz2xXD0kshkhfZ9w7r8hUhTk9QO9MVMcP0T0tXe65tpjj0Goa9kiGlrzd0uXK0i0poF6MuEqewm_k8btdTo/s1600/balloons+2.png" style="color: #15a3a3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1025" data-original-width="1600" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi28C4_3rVXOXfd99OwdFZsvvk2dZ4Dj4iE9NsXbOqDSaRZF0-RYLS61XKmRz2xXD0kshkhfZ9w7r8hUhTk9QO9MVMcP0T0tXe65tpjj0Goa9kiGlrzd0uXK0i0poF6MuEqewm_k8btdTo/s320/balloons+2.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></span></div><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arvo; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arvo; font-size: 15.4px;" /><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZy6rj_E9GrLVoWS8rkSxVYzVYEeuNn5UMVNOGqx18BKy7lXWnFT6CKGZE0Wi-KmgVX5iS8X_9TbLForlS9TQEgmDMwZrCE_IXq4Dm3LRN_TBdiKynI9tINtmVNtQlHUOJ5Z-6XS-LSg1ATfY3_p1A_6raJmRLpPH1lajS2ELix5vDGbDAvPBgg3bLPA/s373/Smooth%20xxx.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="115" data-original-width="373" height="99" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZy6rj_E9GrLVoWS8rkSxVYzVYEeuNn5UMVNOGqx18BKy7lXWnFT6CKGZE0Wi-KmgVX5iS8X_9TbLForlS9TQEgmDMwZrCE_IXq4Dm3LRN_TBdiKynI9tINtmVNtQlHUOJ5Z-6XS-LSg1ATfY3_p1A_6raJmRLpPH1lajS2ELix5vDGbDAvPBgg3bLPA/s320/Smooth%20xxx.png" width="320" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dhiSwiooiCNZrldycURh1lvYejnUkM8qzK-O0ZCkEZI2gJClMTjjS3bMXiV58OLadoXhL2eurSYZEM7GeRs2E1kD6Z_gLStLWADptMFONXyc4lqBuQmnTkujc4sEVtRTUaHMR4QpgGXvrNJzixO4F7DppAq9-dq3fdUGcNmiZ6JbbZ8fU16PuYo/s1245/Babe%20in%20the%20Woods%20xxx.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #222222; font-family: Arvo; font-size: 15.4px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Is Now Available in Paperback!</span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #222222; font-family: Arvo; font-size: 15.4px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZFK1cOBKgqCI_NKFqQxZ-qG-cdsvGTZVdjBGuekc5oE9RF2N7UvKKbuPLUz1scrfzI6c6iwW1ZypcnPJPs0pqnK8QothOKLM2SQ5qSN-zH1VMUPjXCoAw9_Nx9xZXE12D-ABxb3buXhMGB_a1hAouDp35I3w_nhuMIVk-Mh3XiJUN0Yw9cY5s_UXMiA/s640/Smooth%20happy%20book%20birthday%20anim.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZFK1cOBKgqCI_NKFqQxZ-qG-cdsvGTZVdjBGuekc5oE9RF2N7UvKKbuPLUz1scrfzI6c6iwW1ZypcnPJPs0pqnK8QothOKLM2SQ5qSN-zH1VMUPjXCoAw9_Nx9xZXE12D-ABxb3buXhMGB_a1hAouDp35I3w_nhuMIVk-Mh3XiJUN0Yw9cY5s_UXMiA/w589-h442/Smooth%20happy%20book%20birthday%20anim.gif" width="589" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXIBnhrNSPCU8mpCdZNZS4NMmr7YItDOfCIWjyAiAp8OCAb6rnlJFo5KCwAMH_BBu0Z8GIHwNSA8o0LezGl1zKaE1Q6HrchTFa3FyYkgIiHD31w11Vn0DBKNvM1d6QapGZ5ZEQOgrhuW_ovwYWPY3_MA84h6iKxrDUf4SagLSmxalxL5-q8ihsGXeing/s513/About%20the%20Book%20books.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="112" data-original-width="513" height="70" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXIBnhrNSPCU8mpCdZNZS4NMmr7YItDOfCIWjyAiAp8OCAb6rnlJFo5KCwAMH_BBu0Z8GIHwNSA8o0LezGl1zKaE1Q6HrchTFa3FyYkgIiHD31w11Vn0DBKNvM1d6QapGZ5ZEQOgrhuW_ovwYWPY3_MA84h6iKxrDUf4SagLSmxalxL5-q8ihsGXeing/s320/About%20the%20Book%20books.png" width="320" /></a></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arvo; font-size: 15.4px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.9); box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"></p><p><span data-mce-style="font-size: 14pt;" style="font-size: 14pt;"></span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEfd1lu8Kz1NM6NOEVpj427jdah2JhR6sqX7S8P471I_0NXGPr_rhssx4Ru8sCO1dHX_Y_R1KzrT3W-crWRuT6kh0z5h3WZxVdj1ihvIMekbRld3yhCkEH2Zcisu0Zlsod-XeiDOQ_rjebaJdXmCloZ6oQRwHZyqBaQfaerAU8NYBb_WjdvRTHQW-tZQ/s694/Smooth.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="575" data-original-width="694" height="530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEfd1lu8Kz1NM6NOEVpj427jdah2JhR6sqX7S8P471I_0NXGPr_rhssx4Ru8sCO1dHX_Y_R1KzrT3W-crWRuT6kh0z5h3WZxVdj1ihvIMekbRld3yhCkEH2Zcisu0Zlsod-XeiDOQ_rjebaJdXmCloZ6oQRwHZyqBaQfaerAU8NYBb_WjdvRTHQW-tZQ/w640-h530/Smooth.png" width="640" /></a></div><div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Title: Smooth: Life Hacks To Get You Smoothly Through Chemo</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Author: Celia Bonaduce</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Publisher: BookBaby</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Pages: 100</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"> Genre: Nonfiction<br />
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">When cancer got in the
way of Celia traveling for her day job as a field producer on the hit
HGTV show, House Hunters, she did not let it stop her creativity. While
the road to her first nonfiction book was anything but SMOOTH, it was a
path that Celia felt compelled to explore. This collection of life hacks
comes from Celia’s own experiences living through chemo. </span></p>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;">Amazon:<a href="https://amzn.to/3pmQoFa"> https://amzn.to/3pmQoFa</a></span><p><span data-mce-style="font-size: 14pt;" style="font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwX5fwfa8X_ZOWqrVsfm3BPuRVnATj-K-76_UwNBVqPJHxnkFZizxnZT8wLQpWWLoX7oiagxM10QQF_QPnI4DyBhjeePJwUYFAgcpt8atx0SQWlWYaEeH81F-NvTrynPIR4MxY0y_oMDxX5yACNiEntWUDY4aRWBOxiedksWftEC7_IBnpGBNAXDk67g/s782/Smooth%20happy%20book%20birthday%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="782" data-original-width="618" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwX5fwfa8X_ZOWqrVsfm3BPuRVnATj-K-76_UwNBVqPJHxnkFZizxnZT8wLQpWWLoX7oiagxM10QQF_QPnI4DyBhjeePJwUYFAgcpt8atx0SQWlWYaEeH81F-NvTrynPIR4MxY0y_oMDxX5yACNiEntWUDY4aRWBOxiedksWftEC7_IBnpGBNAXDk67g/w506-h640/Smooth%20happy%20book%20birthday%202.jpg" width="506" /></a></div><p></p><p style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.9); box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", "Bitstream Charter", Times, serif; font-weight: 700;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></span></span></p><p style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.9); box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", "Bitstream Charter", Times, serif; font-weight: 700;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", "Bitstream Charter", Times, serif; font-weight: 700;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLLYcij7jSwh7BUEJmoGteBpo2Rc2h8fg7leGoLwPZC6OXQV7z15QM44Zgwfl_A-fBy9MU8700CXTXrXOQJiLyUl6nqlYYuDrGSQVO5d59YJH8sPYxJai9iuyLf6h7omlcMfUALATA1TVXCfTFlg06XL9cBa7FlWl6Dh5RmS5HaJcPxnaOobSjYw5eLQ/s266/excerpt%20books.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="111" data-original-width="266" height="111" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLLYcij7jSwh7BUEJmoGteBpo2Rc2h8fg7leGoLwPZC6OXQV7z15QM44Zgwfl_A-fBy9MU8700CXTXrXOQJiLyUl6nqlYYuDrGSQVO5d59YJH8sPYxJai9iuyLf6h7omlcMfUALATA1TVXCfTFlg06XL9cBa7FlWl6Dh5RmS5HaJcPxnaOobSjYw5eLQ/s1600/excerpt%20books.png" width="266" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", "Bitstream Charter", Times, serif; font-weight: 700;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></span><p></p>
<h2 class="wp-block-heading"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">One test had led to the next and then the next. I’d had two mammograms, an ultrasound, and a biopsy. So when the call came, I was ready.</span></span></i></h2>
<h2 class="wp-block-heading"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">“Hi, Celia…” my doctor said, her voice trailing off. “It’s cancer.”</span></span></i></h2>
<h2 class="wp-block-heading"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">“Yeah,” I said, picturing my life as a novelist and a TV producer grinding to an immediate halt. “My village would have to be missing its idiot for me to not have suspected this.”</span></span></i></h2>
<h2 class="wp-block-heading"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">So then I did the breast cancer thing—lumpectomy, chemotherapy, and radiation. I learned a lot about breast cancer (for example, that mine was Stage 1-B triple-negative breast cancer). But here’s a secret: while there are lots of books out there about women’s personal stories during their breast cancer journeys, when you’re going through it, you don’t give a rat’s ass about anyone else’s story. You just want to know how to get through it yourself.</span></span></i></h2>
<h2 class="wp-block-heading"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">This isn’t a personal retrospective, nor is it a medical journal. But I do have some recommendations I’d like to pass along—just some ideas that might make your life easier during this most stressful of times. All the products mentioned are my personal favorites from my own chemo adventure. No company has endorsed, sponsored, or bribed me. The photographs of the products are beautiful and professional looking because my beautiful and professional friend Justine shot them.</span></span></i></h2>
<h2 class="wp-block-heading"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">As you start your journey, you will wonder where you will get the mental as well as physical strength to voluntarily show up for chemo month after month. But you will find that strength or that strength will find you. I hope these tips will make your trip easier.</span></span></i></h2>
<h2 class="wp-block-heading"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Because it’s all about you.</span></span></i></h2>
<h2 class="wp-block-heading"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">As it should be.</span></span></i></h2>
<p style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.9); box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px 0px 10px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", "Bitstream Charter", Times, serif; font-weight: 700;"><span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR1fGEXX_5xyzSvior6glgwgSgQB11d8OcHAEToN-esWFqtU9XcmioTOHGHmz_A4od5BLlCRR7eZVB7R6ce0v39UZeXDlmtB-5tyg1z6U8veNKbN3pdXJOC6qqjKiQw3TuGIoOtd8507nu2d_QK0j9r5suZ0glJdB-r8yZTfCf650kVIUSxUd9FtWiGA/s581/About%20the%20Author%203.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="112" data-original-width="581" height="78" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR1fGEXX_5xyzSvior6glgwgSgQB11d8OcHAEToN-esWFqtU9XcmioTOHGHmz_A4od5BLlCRR7eZVB7R6ce0v39UZeXDlmtB-5tyg1z6U8veNKbN3pdXJOC6qqjKiQw3TuGIoOtd8507nu2d_QK0j9r5suZ0glJdB-r8yZTfCf650kVIUSxUd9FtWiGA/w400-h78/About%20the%20Author%203.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><b style="box-sizing: border-box;"><div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.9); box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 400;"><p><span data-mce-style="font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 14pt; color: #000000;" style="color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTMOkYwcvxVI4-7RthXMrwaBAlJxnD3aMwvx3sR1p8WQ1MkMoIjYM0j9E6h4p4udyjof-wbe78rPSuzaumn70yMpsZjDy9kkhLZsKrdATH5xdwArplvBz3RafbefNs1ELfhI6UvK58j0p9ITVU88dm4A5-QFf5IM6sE4XXo4_SRDHDE67rC9QcqLg3Mw/s592/Celia%20Bonaduce.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="592" data-original-width="545" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTMOkYwcvxVI4-7RthXMrwaBAlJxnD3aMwvx3sR1p8WQ1MkMoIjYM0j9E6h4p4udyjof-wbe78rPSuzaumn70yMpsZjDy9kkhLZsKrdATH5xdwArplvBz3RafbefNs1ELfhI6UvK58j0p9ITVU88dm4A5-QFf5IM6sE4XXo4_SRDHDE67rC9QcqLg3Mw/w374-h406/Celia%20Bonaduce.png" width="374" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />Celia Bonaduce is an
award-winning novelist, podcast writer, and television producer. Celia
spent fifteen years as a producer-director in lifestyle programming on
shows that include ABC’s Extreme Makeover: Home Edition and HGTV’s House
Hunters and Tiny House Hunters. As a novelist with Kensington
Publishing, Celia has written three trilogies: the Venice Beach
Romances, the Fat Chance, Texas series, and the Tiny House Novels. The
Tiny House Novel series won top honors with a Grand Finalist nod from
the New Apple Official Selection, first place in the Book Excellence
Awards and Gold from both the National Federation of Press Women and the
Elite Choice Awards. Celia is also a co-author of <i>A Texas Kind of Christmas</i>, an Amazon #1 Best Seller in Historical Romance that took Gold from the National Federation of Press Women. </span><p></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Website: <a href="https://www.celiabonaduce.com">https://www.celiabonaduce.com </a></span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Twitter: <a href="https://www.twitter.com/CeliaBonaduce">https://www.twitter.com/CeliaBonaduce </a></span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/CeliaBonaduceAuthor">https://www.facebook.com/CeliaBonaduceAuthor </a></span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Instagram: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/celiabonaduce">https://www.instagram.com/celiabonaduce </a></span></span></p>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Bookbub: <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/authors/celia-bonaduce">https://www.bookbub.com/authors/celia-bonaduce</a></span></span></div><div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.9); box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 400;"><span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.9); color: #333333; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 400;"> </span></div></b><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b style="box-sizing: border-box;"><div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.9); box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 400; text-align: left;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXbdFNhNs4bSJFSYQxliqR9ZIt10kejCB1h_A8WZ2kFWZqUabRq5LobGeIAwA51oNgYKiVf0rwASmBp63Q787-PHDkm_DMv1mDNiPmTIWHsCyAQ3FarS9xkq3p6p8LY26_MaAw49H3Ry_T0fdp3VLxcn42o-1nWY2__xF0_lu9-BJnFke2Whch9gWEIA/s306/giveaway%20books.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="111" data-original-width="306" height="111" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXbdFNhNs4bSJFSYQxliqR9ZIt10kejCB1h_A8WZ2kFWZqUabRq5LobGeIAwA51oNgYKiVf0rwASmBp63Q787-PHDkm_DMv1mDNiPmTIWHsCyAQ3FarS9xkq3p6p8LY26_MaAw49H3Ry_T0fdp3VLxcn42o-1nWY2__xF0_lu9-BJnFke2Whch9gWEIA/s1600/giveaway%20books.png" width="306" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br id="docs-internal-guid-cc67bdfe-7fff-0e20-880f-bb89187ebb78" /><h2 dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 4pt; margin-top: 18pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 17pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Celia Bonaduce is giving away one $25 Amazon Gift Card!</span></h2><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-decoration-skip: none; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Terms & Conditions:</span></p><ul style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-inline-start: 48px;"><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.</span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">One winner will be chosen via Rafflecopter to receive one $25 Amazon Gift Card.</span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">This giveaway ends midnight July 5.</span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Winner will be contacted via email on July 6.</span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Winner has 48 hours to reply.</span></p></li></ul><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Good luck everyone!</span></p><h3 dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 4pt; margin-top: 14pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">ENTER TO WIN!</span></h3><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><a href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/1a49cf61257/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="-webkit-text-decoration-skip: none; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"></span></a><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="1a49cf61257" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/1a49cf61257/" id="rcwidget_4wwlx6p5" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script><br /></p> </div><br /></div></b><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/85dOq4pDPz0" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe><br /><b style="box-sizing: border-box;"><div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.9); box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 400; text-align: left;"><span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.9); color: #333333; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 400;"></span></div></b></div><b style="box-sizing: border-box;"><div style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.9); box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 400;"><span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.9); color: #333333; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 400;"> </span><b style="box-sizing: border-box;"></b></div></b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjzg2aAxndG0EAOUrOmdj8CyPslod-V6yx1B6iX4Yi1kpxcSZpiEhVUzRf_s6rhBT36GwXzIgNfODsjY-WU-Say0gd4lmXYpERi2WH6gSOEPdYBZMsn9rkLyDaVJUcLjFz6Wqt7oxe_6JTCyB7JBEVnP58moieNJjygeEVp79QOuzRaBjEB6A5L2hU=s268" style="color: #15a3a3; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="188" data-original-width="268" height="449" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjzg2aAxndG0EAOUrOmdj8CyPslod-V6yx1B6iX4Yi1kpxcSZpiEhVUzRf_s6rhBT36GwXzIgNfODsjY-WU-Say0gd4lmXYpERi2WH6gSOEPdYBZMsn9rkLyDaVJUcLjFz6Wqt7oxe_6JTCyB7JBEVnP58moieNJjygeEVp79QOuzRaBjEB6A5L2hU=w640-h449" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /></div><br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6066877490374519027.post-34453430604256143892023-06-19T21:00:00.002-07:002023-06-20T06:31:47.542-07:00Babe in the Woods Book Blast Today!<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhndcsd_09J6NaEoLAkYeNOd-ZqRn9qBGz_UedWCVtYWRMVJaXh6BNv7OJlzLmG5yCn0DT8oLsre8vqk8x9Kb-f5kinb31_DbfCaFmzOfixboA1UbpMBuHYHPUI2VLg8rn70yKyouGrlULQVhJ4we5mUB32BJEAYP2UE31JOQRdP-u_aDEq3YQDUo4/s688/Babe%20in%20the%20Woods%20banner.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="246" data-original-width="688" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhndcsd_09J6NaEoLAkYeNOd-ZqRn9qBGz_UedWCVtYWRMVJaXh6BNv7OJlzLmG5yCn0DT8oLsre8vqk8x9Kb-f5kinb31_DbfCaFmzOfixboA1UbpMBuHYHPUI2VLg8rn70yKyouGrlULQVhJ4we5mUB32BJEAYP2UE31JOQRdP-u_aDEq3YQDUo4/w593-h211/Babe%20in%20the%20Woods%20banner.jpg" width="593" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Cherry Swash;"></span></span><p></p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name">
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<div><p id="docs-internal-guid-163e1e2f-7fff-e74d-c102-93300b4c5efb" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span><i><span id="docs-internal-guid-da539151-7fff-664b-9b30-6b1666d6dea9" style="background-color: transparent; color: #0f1111; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></span></i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-d3c01354-7fff-e837-3c2a-d0ef99d42910" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Thirty-five</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-year-old </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hadley returns to her rural hometown, fresh from heartbreak in L.A., to write a play about a woman’s last moment of innocence, but when a hot, young rock-star wannabe she uses as fodder outsmarts her, she needs to decide if innocence is more important than believing in herself…</span></span></p><p id="docs-internal-guid-163e1e2f-7fff-e74d-c102-93300b4c5efb" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><i><span id="docs-internal-guid-da539151-7fff-664b-9b30-6b1666d6dea9" style="background-color: transparent; color: #0f1111; font-family: Cherry Swash; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></span></i></p><p id="docs-internal-guid-163e1e2f-7fff-e74d-c102-93300b4c5efb" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Cherry Swash;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVpSPl4HSzFRFvHDS1EBEylQHJzmeXNXX3yYAMxAQEz6bJNTlkQThmsvore9fxHeZJF_z6V0G9M3k5BFqyKHIEd5rH773E0KCDwHLIffwbdQKtLhqRHC8kN2uG8DLOAsx0pqZursGgK0FZUi5rjSP4CrHsjSwL1dc2AsB21gt2JjR26-xto40FrbM/s715/Babe%20in%20the%20Woods.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="715" data-original-width="530" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVpSPl4HSzFRFvHDS1EBEylQHJzmeXNXX3yYAMxAQEz6bJNTlkQThmsvore9fxHeZJF_z6V0G9M3k5BFqyKHIEd5rH773E0KCDwHLIffwbdQKtLhqRHC8kN2uG8DLOAsx0pqZursGgK0FZUi5rjSP4CrHsjSwL1dc2AsB21gt2JjR26-xto40FrbM/w474-h640/Babe%20in%20the%20Woods.png" width="474" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p id="docs-internal-guid-163e1e2f-7fff-e74d-c102-93300b4c5efb" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-4228c015-7fff-45a9-8d05-3a252dc97f26" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.5pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><p></p><p id="docs-internal-guid-163e1e2f-7fff-e74d-c102-93300b4c5efb" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Cherry Swash;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-73aceb05-7fff-a7b8-7299-7b7e161268cb" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span></p><p></p><p></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arvo; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-family: Oswald;"><span></span></span></b></span></p></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-family: Oswald;"><span></span></span></b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-family: Oswald;"><span><span></span></span></span></b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-family: Oswald;"><span><span></span></span></span></b></span><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;">Title: Babe in the Woods</span><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"> Author: Jude Hopkins</span><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"> Publisher: Wild Rose Press</span><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"> Pages: 292</span><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"> Genre:</span><span style="color: black;"> </span>Women's Fiction</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p>
<p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span>
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</p><p>It’s September 1995, the first year of the rest of HADLEY TODD’S life. After a decade in Los Angeles, trying and failing to launch her career as a playwright, Hadley has returned to her hometown in rural New York to write and to be closer to her lonely, ailing father–not that he always welcomes the help. Between looking after him and teaching Shakespeare to teenage malcontents at the local high school, Hadley is determined to produce a masterpiece before 36. She even joins a writing group, thinking the structure will keep her focused. Hadley hopes to channel her recent heartbreak from being dumped in L.A. into writing a play about the last moment of a woman’s innocence, a play that an agent friend in Hollywood has promised to produce. But she struggles with writer’s block and seeks inspiration.</p>
<p>Enter TREY HARDING, a young, handsome sports reporter for a local radio station who covers sports at the high school where Hadley teaches. Trey reminds Hadley of her L.A. ex and is the perfect spark to touch off her imagination. Trey has two girlfriends who work at the school, giving Hadley a great perch from which to watch and write down their interactions. The fact that Trey is an aspiring rock star and she has L.A. record biz connections makes the alliance perfect. She dangles promises of music biz glory while watching his moves. But after they both go to Hollywood, Hadley learns that believing in herself is all the inspiration she needs.<br /></p>
<p>Amazon: <a href="https://amzn.to/41FoWQa">https://amzn.to/41FoWQa</a></p>
<p>Barnes & Noble: <a href="https://bit.ly/451nn20">https://bit.ly/451nn20</a></p>
<p></p><p></p><br />
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<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/Babe-in-the-Woods-Amazon-Giveaway.jpg">
</a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOPJfiWjVJB01vBe3MJLUsrzByogV6tS2nCrKBqs08FFR_zV36pxXsaY-VNW_k0sAc-b-dSQf7XKc3Rb0xfrwg_1eoh2hIA99oW39ixt0-GC-MjUO3pM7zKyvXJXu9Vh7A2QIqhA8MP87G6wPJjjSIB3QPeU_Mnm8Rv59NQwrd4ekFLesd5ylYS0/s646/Babe%20in%20the%20Woods%20Amazon%20Giveaway.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="363" data-original-width="646" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOPJfiWjVJB01vBe3MJLUsrzByogV6tS2nCrKBqs08FFR_zV36pxXsaY-VNW_k0sAc-b-dSQf7XKc3Rb0xfrwg_1eoh2hIA99oW39ixt0-GC-MjUO3pM7zKyvXJXu9Vh7A2QIqhA8MP87G6wPJjjSIB3QPeU_Mnm8Rv59NQwrd4ekFLesd5ylYS0/w555-h312/Babe%20in%20the%20Woods%20Amazon%20Giveaway.jpg" width="555" /></a></div><span class="pibfi_pinterest"><br />
</span>
<p></p>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">Jude Hopkins is giving away one $25 Amazon Gift Card!</h2>
<p style="text-align: center;"><b>Terms & Conditions:</b></p>
<ul style="text-align: center;"><li>By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.</li><li>One winner will be chosen via Rafflecopter to receive one $25 Amazon Gift Card.</li><li>This giveaway ends midnight June 30.</li><li>Winner will be contacted via email on July 1.</li><li>Winner has 48 hours to reply.</li></ul>
<p style="text-align: center;">Good luck everyone!</p>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">ENTER TO WIN!</h3>
<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a class="rcptr" data-raflid="1a49cf61255" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/1a49cf61255/" id="rcwidget_cet624ym" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script></p><br /><p></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Cherry Swash;"><b><span><span>About the Author</span></span></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Cherry Swash;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcjIdgWEBLIQvlNNFZmO2HI--QcN379vnS65SKeZ93GBDQRY18bUaZq_C1hFe2MezeYMpvh6aPv84b8MFPY3WAvulSV7ObEeTfZ-jpFxwM1q4eu8f1CNtg3TJ-XxeVNjGLlOSpxV2Ic-QSDIgt5LUnSdnGU2l6HO-v0x4VePERX_hfcTPHiIriF6E/s556/Jude%20Hopkins.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="538" data-original-width="556" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcjIdgWEBLIQvlNNFZmO2HI--QcN379vnS65SKeZ93GBDQRY18bUaZq_C1hFe2MezeYMpvh6aPv84b8MFPY3WAvulSV7ObEeTfZ-jpFxwM1q4eu8f1CNtg3TJ-XxeVNjGLlOSpxV2Ic-QSDIgt5LUnSdnGU2l6HO-v0x4VePERX_hfcTPHiIriF6E/w400-h388/Jude%20Hopkins.png" width="400" /></a></div></div><span><span></span></span></b></span></span></div></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><div><div style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"></span><p></p>
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</p><p><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt;"></span>
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<p style="text-align: left;">
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</p><p style="text-align: left;">Jude Hopkins has published essays in The Los Angeles Times, Medium, and elsewhere, as well as poetry in numerous journals and magazines. Her work can be found on her website at <a href="http://www.judehopkinswriting.net">judehopkinswriting.net</a>.</p>
<p style="text-align: left;">Twitter: <a href="http://www.twitter.com/HeyJudeNotJudy">www.twitter.com/HeyJudeNotJudy</a></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">Medium: <a href="https://medium.com/@heyjudehopkins">https://medium.com/@heyjudehopkins</a></p>
</div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqQ5CmLv5tdyNuK9KIAV5Jft05IHhinsl4-fAGhHFgUPPvqqxxLjkkj38OgJshWETytWjKJQ4UF938TupRchIEY9ZxzEudTwcP-jsj-r5hxwU9vAc8CneAkXu5GH5oZfkZflJuHB_beJYdu1AhbmNbMHQxqNrnd0aL6SkPTQLy0BLx-eqM-Z9vxs/s2720/Babe%20in%20the%20Woods%209.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1844" data-original-width="2720" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqQ5CmLv5tdyNuK9KIAV5Jft05IHhinsl4-fAGhHFgUPPvqqxxLjkkj38OgJshWETytWjKJQ4UF938TupRchIEY9ZxzEudTwcP-jsj-r5hxwU9vAc8CneAkXu5GH5oZfkZflJuHB_beJYdu1AhbmNbMHQxqNrnd0aL6SkPTQLy0BLx-eqM-Z9vxs/w640-h434/Babe%20in%20the%20Woods%209.png" width="640" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdV8Jdh5Fof8lO5-ZZu_gQHQeQJRtsoWaOzJ-lO15lMZOeP5Pam4oxjJ90sulVKeTre7AW0XybXnaiO4KI9N907CeR_cw2r98C-KBv5GDcD4ETWPKt9CKeZYqwCZfRelE39ZM9q2jhT6LMhIVPntsgHbKaPTssDyxXrefpast2Jkp1qvgddkS6lXk/s640/Babe%20in%20the%20Woods%20Book%20Blast.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="451" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdV8Jdh5Fof8lO5-ZZu_gQHQeQJRtsoWaOzJ-lO15lMZOeP5Pam4oxjJ90sulVKeTre7AW0XybXnaiO4KI9N907CeR_cw2r98C-KBv5GDcD4ETWPKt9CKeZYqwCZfRelE39ZM9q2jhT6LMhIVPntsgHbKaPTssDyxXrefpast2Jkp1qvgddkS6lXk/w601-h451/Babe%20in%20the%20Woods%20Book%20Blast.jpg" width="601" /></a></div><br /> </div><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: large;">Sponsored By:</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br style="font-size: 15.4px;" /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arvo; font-size: 15.4px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/" style="color: #888888; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="956" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlgvqPiIViJFyY5o-45FULRFDe2p05F5D5P2iTPFT2Oz_McZ6kpf4U2mnJ2Ejbu_7d92xll31gaKbVhNmn8-IMJDhPakg6KlaDtUdFeGJEYCSMI4PAaWo-6WuIrnaQ_DevYry1AX6wLys/w400-h174/Pump+Up+Your+Book+Virtual+Book+Tours+Banner.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="400" /></a></div></div></div><br /><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0