tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53921335969039397052024-03-05T23:15:12.540-05:00J. M. Powers RomanceJeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.comBlogger67125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-43094895845288285152016-02-15T17:56:00.000-05:002016-02-17T00:49:39.565-05:00Totally Psyched with Totally Entwined GroupI have had a wonderful journey getting Jewel of Ramstone ready for publication with Totally Entwined Group (Totally Bound)<br />
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<a href="https://www.totallybound.com/book/jewel-of-ramstone" target="_blank">Click here!</a> Excerpt, Link, and so much more.<br />
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Pre-order: February 16th<br />
Early download: March 1st<br />
General release: March 29th<br />
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Here's a little teaser:<br />
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<br />Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-11048689914030407762015-11-27T15:11:00.000-05:002015-11-27T15:15:13.383-05:00Doubt Dungeon <div style="text-align: center;">
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Jewel of Ramstone is with Totally Entwined Group . So what should I do while awaiting edits? Why, keep writing of course!<br />
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I'm currently working on the second book in the Medieval Quest Series and decided to fetch a bit of feedback before moving on with the story. I attached a few chapters to an email addressed to my beta readers. Feeling great about accomplishing that task without wandering to facebook, I grinned and I hit the send button.<br />
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My fist finds my forehead <i>every single time </i>I hit send. </div>
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<i> </i> I wonder why?</div>
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What did I just do?</h2>
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I'm satisfied with the storytelling, setting and characters. I truly believe I fleshed out their quirks, weaknesses and strengths. The quest is a good one. Plot twists? Yep, they're there too. <br />
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Why then, do I fist my head after I hit the send button? <span style="text-align: center;">I took a lot of time thinking about this instead of meeting my daily writing goal. </span><span style="text-align: center;">Here's what I came up with:</span></div>
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I want every reader</div>
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To love and hate</div>
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As they travel through</div>
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The medieval gate</div>
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I want each character</div>
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To be real in their eyes</div>
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And rejoice in lives spared</div>
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Or weep when one dies</div>
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I must transport readers</div>
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To a new life which transcends</div>
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And settle them softly</div>
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When the story ends.</div>
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At the risk of <i>completely </i>overusing the word want...</div>
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I want to accomplish everything in that off-rhythm-rhyme. However, doubt slithers into my mind and sends me to the worry dungeon. <i>That</i><span style="text-align: center;"><i> </i>is why my fist finds my forehead. I'm trying to pound the doubt out. Apparently, it's embedded pretty deep.</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;"> But I'm a writer, dammit. And I will learn from feedback, edits and reviews. I will continue to polish my craft. And most important, I will give my reader an experience.. </span><br />
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I think every writer spends a little time in the dungeon. </h2>
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I need to jump over the hurdles of doubt and worry. Does everyone feel this way? Oh gosh, there I go wondering about stuff again. I better sign off before I write another poem.</div>
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<span style="color: #3a3a3a; font-family: "noto sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Female Image by David Castillo Dominici at FreeDigitalPhotos.net</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f6f8fa; color: #3a3a3a; font-family: "noto sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Dungeon Image by pakorn at FreeDigitalPhotos.net</span></div>
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Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-28979428711471765352015-11-25T20:09:00.000-05:002015-11-25T20:09:31.802-05:00Cover Reveal<div style="text-align: center;">
No words needed. The cover art by Emmy Ellis says it all. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ5J6CPtwgGRu5NXJJhVwpzicvyWiYoh_0K1eta3Hov9XJlLDHXNSau6mcLArxW1yFJCUKYEruiNUg2ovJrR-T3i75psZSJW2go1FhSPZIb__Vzf0KyOKQ4MSEyWAeWL2uHGUU40gVJXs/s1600/jeweloframstone_800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ5J6CPtwgGRu5NXJJhVwpzicvyWiYoh_0K1eta3Hov9XJlLDHXNSau6mcLArxW1yFJCUKYEruiNUg2ovJrR-T3i75psZSJW2go1FhSPZIb__Vzf0KyOKQ4MSEyWAeWL2uHGUU40gVJXs/s640/jeweloframstone_800.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-37913263166562025412015-11-19T16:00:00.000-05:002015-11-19T16:00:00.518-05:00 Flat Tire Inflated!<div class="MsoNormal">
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Here's a little update from the weary author on the road to starting over.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ77uvwjA6q0W6pf_HYH-QwMlALHsb-hwi0zi1X-baTmq0aVf6SCIXikn0BIrSJHfxJf1RjPE6O0ZJecuild6lmEQWKmDZnalJObXye0hCtElm_JxH99mVtgWasrWCENGHdYGtXLCiPhs/s1600/dreamstimefree_1981101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ77uvwjA6q0W6pf_HYH-QwMlALHsb-hwi0zi1X-baTmq0aVf6SCIXikn0BIrSJHfxJf1RjPE6O0ZJecuild6lmEQWKmDZnalJObXye0hCtElm_JxH99mVtgWasrWCENGHdYGtXLCiPhs/s200/dreamstimefree_1981101.jpg" width="200" /></a><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">I
was happily traveling along the road of a published author...wind traveling
through my hair...dreaming up plots for my next book. My characters rode in the
backseat, encouraging my ideas. Sometimes a new character would hitch a ride,
chattering in the passenger seat, convincing me why they'd enrich the
story. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Then I got a flat tire
and hobbled on the rim until the road stopped. Yep. I hit a dead end, dark
forests on each side. And my rim was as damaged as my spirit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">But I'm a stubborn
soul. I climbed out of the vehicle, motioned for my characters to follow,
and traipsed through the scary woods, manuscripts in hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;"> We didn't cross
any wolves or gingerbread houses, despite my character, Ruby, insisting she wear
a red cloak. We <i>did</i> come across a
perfect home though. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf8gYhgUpS9f6alMqEneoicPgPQOlFNO_2nk_QeKXJzHo5qcbCSMOIaLR0MCn702AFSLMzD-MN-SDLrbz046m-EzVfapyCuk7Eu6TzD6q17bbAuiPx3TmHnzMeO51Zm5I_bP2WA9nF7h0/s1600/ID-10045276.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf8gYhgUpS9f6alMqEneoicPgPQOlFNO_2nk_QeKXJzHo5qcbCSMOIaLR0MCn702AFSLMzD-MN-SDLrbz046m-EzVfapyCuk7Eu6TzD6q17bbAuiPx3TmHnzMeO51Zm5I_bP2WA9nF7h0/s320/ID-10045276.jpg" width="316" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;"> I am happy to
announce my novel, Jewel of Ramstone, was accepted by Totally Bound Group.
(Part of Totally Bound Publishing)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">I'm eagerly awaiting
edits. Waiting is hard for me, so in the meantime, I'm continuing the
Medieval Quest series. One of my favorite secondary characters from Jewel of
Ramstone gets to tell his story in this book. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">I've got a slew of work
to keep me busy, as I tend to have more than one (or five) works in progress.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;"> My diverse characters need a place to exist
after all:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">A contemporary romance
about a paralyzed woman rebuilding her life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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a human in love with an alien.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Another fantasy about a lost
soul with a broken wing and spirit who crashes into a Christmas forest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">I'm revamping the three books in the Magic Stone Series.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">I'm also co-authoring yet
another project. Woman's fiction surrounding the hi-jinxs between twin sisters
while they attempt to save a bed and breakfast from foreclosing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">In my spare time I write
story ideas on paper towels while cooking dinner. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-75793911024537412462015-11-17T13:17:00.000-05:002015-11-17T13:20:59.201-05:00My Way<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Many times in life, things happen swiftly, without warning. There
isn't a choice in the matter. Things spin out of our control. However, the outcome
in these matters depends solely on the receiver. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Yeah, this is what I tell myself when life throws bricks at me. Do I believe my pep talk? Do I think I will survive the
setback? Definitively.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvOfEUJ2AnHy5e3VWnfjGWGf-JXZNzousSi-8N2cjaTz_dBZLF3Obi4qq6cWd5U3nAAQqBGjtb23LgJ4cnEKd8vby7M4WdFx9lHBuyWc6QhQ1-hD7p0CmaKW2gypMobJdNSv0oo1WpFFc/s1600/ID-10088140+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvOfEUJ2AnHy5e3VWnfjGWGf-JXZNzousSi-8N2cjaTz_dBZLF3Obi4qq6cWd5U3nAAQqBGjtb23LgJ4cnEKd8vby7M4WdFx9lHBuyWc6QhQ1-hD7p0CmaKW2gypMobJdNSv0oo1WpFFc/s200/ID-10088140+%25281%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I was born stubborn. (Ask anyone in my
family.) As a kid, a tenacious attitude was not a quality. Nor was it accepted.
I spent most of my youth grounded. I didn't know how to curb the penchant to do
things</span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><i style="font-size: 13.5pt;">my<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">way. I did not strive to be obstinate.
It was simply the little person I was.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">As an adult, I continued to embrace that stubborn spirit, but I
learned where to apply it. In writing, I'm never stubborn when it comes to
edits. I always learn from them. In relationships, I've tweaked stubborn into compromise.
In many areas of life, it is unnecessary, or even detrimental to march the road of stubborn warfare.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">However, in the aspect of life punching me in the gut, I point down that road and shout a </span><span style="font-size: 18px;">battle</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> cry I refuse to allow any hardship to beat me to the ground. Like
anyone, life's punches </span><i style="font-size: 13.5pt;">hurt</i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">. They
tend to knock wind out of hope. I'm affected like anyone else. I allow tears to
travel down the road to self-pity land. (Or a waterfall to hard rocks when it
comes to Autism affecting ones I love…but that's another story.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">A dollop of stubbornness and an army of courage sure come in handy
in times of adversity. I wallow in the pity land for a bit, and then I move on.
I persevere. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Stubborn can be a good thing, and I'm glad I was born with that
quality. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">photo by Stuart Miles@freedigitalphotos.com</span></i></div>
Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-53742162394371138422015-09-29T02:05:00.001-04:002015-09-29T02:06:08.808-04:00Late Night With a Caffeine Infused Writer. Persevere I said. It will be okay, I said.<br />
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But it doesn't feel okay. Not all the time anyway.<br />
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Have you ever started over? It not easy, is it?<br />
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(cuss word deleted)<br />
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I try to persevere in this journey back into publication. Usually I do well, but sometimes....ugh.<br />
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Well, it's done. Or it's just started. I suppose it's all in how I view it.<br />
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I've gathered my manuscript, synopses, and even updated my author bio. After researching many publishers, I sent submissions to a few. Jewel of Ramstone, needs the perfect home. Of course, all my books need a home, but I must admit Jewel of Ramstone is my favorite.<br />
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Then I waited.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYPttgUeAG8BaDnPRZB1gt9QMCNSF8Vnx9_OIln1DEZDgKLiOAvhK3wuPNxnaiTwJZnGUTJ1cC048eG6no7Xo_bIMIKeP40rYhUH4q1m2ZF2gbBg7G_eOHcq1OJeYitKnO3whkp44fJHQ/s1600/Summer+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYPttgUeAG8BaDnPRZB1gt9QMCNSF8Vnx9_OIln1DEZDgKLiOAvhK3wuPNxnaiTwJZnGUTJ1cC048eG6no7Xo_bIMIKeP40rYhUH4q1m2ZF2gbBg7G_eOHcq1OJeYitKnO3whkp44fJHQ/s200/Summer+6.jpg" width="157" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me: CHECKING EMAIL SEVERAL TIMES A DAY</td></tr>
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Usually I write while I wait, but I found myself coloring. Even though it was an "adult" coloring book, I put all my creativity in that, instead of working on the second book of the Medieval Quest Series. I mean, a secondary character refused to rest when Jewel of Ramstone ended. Who am I to argue with a handsome knight? Well, I was doing well with book two, and said knight was very pleased.<br />
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Before the bridge on my road to publication exploded.<br />
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I didn't know what was wrong with me. I always want to write. But damn, I sure could color pretty pictures, right?<br />
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Then the rejections began. But as many writer friends said, it is just a rejection. Keep at it. And I did/<br />
I know it isn't my writing they are rejecting. There are a myriad of reasons publishers reject a manuscript. I'm not going to go into them, because…well, I'm supposed to be writing about perseverance.<br />
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As usual, I go around the long way to get to it.<br />
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I hope you aren't skimming<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzGfa4-sPwCGyr0akfi0RFzdX7LlzFYYTItcgXcyoetmaCKVjnM22gZzUFKnfArZujdX_dlVRd1WCFTVHsOtzD3qFdvNMbLAeqFMUYdTTJQ0szmBrz07GokzUPGRAt-QKNjFTXPqFf3-o/s1600/23907465%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzGfa4-sPwCGyr0akfi0RFzdX7LlzFYYTItcgXcyoetmaCKVjnM22gZzUFKnfArZujdX_dlVRd1WCFTVHsOtzD3qFdvNMbLAeqFMUYdTTJQ0szmBrz07GokzUPGRAt-QKNjFTXPqFf3-o/s320/23907465%255B1%255D.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Okay this is random, but damn.</div>
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Back to the inspiration of this post.</div>
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PERSEVERANCE</div>
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You know what helps me persevere? Fellow authors.</div>
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They know the hours spent tapping away at the keyboard while the night turns to day.</div>
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They feel what I feel. Totally understand the ups and downs of the journey to publication...and beyond. </div>
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They know the heartbreak of watching numerous works simply vanish when a publisher closes their doors.</div>
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Though authors may be going through all this, we are connected--like a single soul. </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I know, dramatic right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Well, hell, I'm a writer. I love drama. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHDF54cpqAYvZMMmOP_DsaOe3YLlSpbZ4mqOGXzrx1NWHPDDXiLA_IazlGAZEVtObfTargW4rB1scrERG4AFuB2LTyW5Ym5O4SLf_Dd4W0AA31PyUgELud8SaWDj9lkkAQRQPlqIBhazM/s1600/dreamstimefree_542295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHDF54cpqAYvZMMmOP_DsaOe3YLlSpbZ4mqOGXzrx1NWHPDDXiLA_IazlGAZEVtObfTargW4rB1scrERG4AFuB2LTyW5Ym5O4SLf_Dd4W0AA31PyUgELud8SaWDj9lkkAQRQPlqIBhazM/s320/dreamstimefree_542295.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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And so, I'd like to dedicate this late-night-coffee-infuse-blathering post to my fellow writers:<br />
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I FEEL YOUR LOVE. I SEE YOU REACHING OUT, AND PULLING ME IN EVEN THOUGH I KNOW YOU ARE GOING THROUGH THE SAME THING.<br />
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Writer or not, words cannot convey the depth of my gratitude.<br />
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I am there for you as well.<br />
Our community of writers, misfits, artists---whatever name society wants to put on us--we are strong.<br />
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WE will get there again. And we will celebrate with each success.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9MOgsYRLlVfGropBOubMfNZ1z6xxd8g0ZaRBcTEG6DMLRJknIXfgjFFhK_ihb5ng4lqibTTjwz9GEJzG35EHsQUdm4f4Hr1Jyv7cJXncbtoZ1W2eOT3v8HomVeCZX6_kUXDlS3QSGluA/s1600/4b0e908ba008fa8155a8ffce3b06e09c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9MOgsYRLlVfGropBOubMfNZ1z6xxd8g0ZaRBcTEG6DMLRJknIXfgjFFhK_ihb5ng4lqibTTjwz9GEJzG35EHsQUdm4f4Hr1Jyv7cJXncbtoZ1W2eOT3v8HomVeCZX6_kUXDlS3QSGluA/s1600/4b0e908ba008fa8155a8ffce3b06e09c.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-48877635033712996642015-05-19T20:01:00.000-04:002015-05-19T20:02:41.782-04:00Poking My Feet Out of the WindowMy publisher closed their doors, and I decided to open a window and climb out instead of waiting for another door to open. Was I upset? Yes. However, after my emotions face-planted me onto the couch and I used up my box of tissues and a roll of paper towels, I jutted my chin. Yep. Nothing, including all my books flying off of the shelves--and not in a good way--will not slay my determination.<br />
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When I started blogging, I shared my road to publication. It looks like it's time to do that again, huh?</div>
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Six books published, and now six looking for a home...yeah, another journey.<br />
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Recently, I submitted Jewel of Ramstone to a publisher. I gathered everything I needed.<br />
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My author bio was dated, the query and the synopsis in need of an update. </div>
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Wow, I forgot how hard it was to write a query and synopsis! Not to mention talking about myself in a bio. I decided to embrace who I am, convey my love of writing and let my heart lead the query. The synopsis? Yeah, those give me hives, but I did it! Author bios come a bit easier, and I hope I got "me" across to the publisher. </div>
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I'm keeping my nails on the keyboard, instead of of chewing them to a nub. My next book is in progress. Meanwhile, I'll check my email for a contract...or (gulp) rejection.</div>
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Either way, I will continue on my quest--back into publication.</div>
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Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-25379919781311933822015-04-20T22:54:00.000-04:002015-05-21T01:24:07.629-04:00Left Me Breathless... "Breathless Press has decided to close its doors after a long year of declining sales...."<br />
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That is about all I could read before my eyes filled. Before my heart broke. Before I was left breathless.<br />
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This saddens me, and leaves me without a publisher. I had six books with Breathless Press. My first one in was published in 2009 and the last one just a few months ago.<br />
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However, unlike many troubled small publishing houses, Breathless Press did not leave authors high and dry. They closed their doors softly...slowly...and with a heads up. My publisher--well, former publisher--kept everyone updated. Then, when options were exhausted, they closed before they went broke. This means every author, editor, cover artist and marketer gets paid.<br />
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Too many times I've read about independent publishers closing with no notice, leaving the authors wondering how to get their right backs and collect owed royalties. Not my publisher. Breathless Press was a company full of honest, hardworking and amazing people. People who were shoved out of the publishing world by economic downfalls. Ouch.<br />
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Today I filled out the form to revert rights to me. Damn. Yes, there were tears, and they fell hard and fast. Then, with my sister's words echoing in my mind, I swiped a tissue over my eyes and took a shaky breath. I decided to look for that door she stated would open when Breathless Press closed theirs.<br />
I'm still looking. <br />
I think I need glasses. Preferably rose colored ones...<br />
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Okay time to buck up. It's a new venture. It's only been a few hours since I heard the final click of the door closing, but though I am left out in the cold, dark world without those rose colored glasses, I refuse to give up.<br />
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I'm going to make my own path, fulfill my dreams and bring my characters to life again.<br />
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<br />Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-9395750742615332382014-12-02T22:22:00.001-05:002015-09-29T00:49:22.132-04:00Nightmares and Dreams<br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">This post is about a </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">reoccurring nightmare that started when I was quite young. </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">I would wake in a sweat, too terrified to scream. It happened so often, I actually expected it to return each time I closed my eyes. As I grew , I sometimes knew I was dreaming and try to change the outcome. Lucid dream or not, I couldn't change it. Not one detail. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">However, I discovered a nigh</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 32px;">tmare <i>can become a dream</i>--one to follow. Doesn't make sense? Read on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"><i>The smell of lavender is strong while I flee through the castle gardens. Frustration mounts as the blue silk dress I'm wearing hinders my stride. I gather the skirts, kick off my shoes and run barefoot across the pebbled path. A low-hanging tree branch catches my braided hair, yanking me to a halt. Adrenaline swooshes through my veins, and fear drives me forward. Though I try to cover the distance between the gardens and the main doors of the castle, it’s as if I am running through water. My breath stutters with exertion, but I must make it inside to save a little child. I do not know if he’s my own, or why I must save him.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"><i>As I pass through the doors, my garb changes from the beautiful gown to tunic and breeches. Not only that, but quiver filled with arrows is slung across my shoulder and I clutch a bow in my fist.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"><i> I find ruin in my path. The sweet lavender aroma turns to acrid smoke, choking me. My burning eyes fill with tears. The castle--my home--is in flames. I search for the child. A suction of doom catches my heartbeat as I skid to a stop in a corridor. The child is in the arms of an enemy knight, my own father dead at his feet.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"><i> I arm my bow with surety and watch the arrow meet its mark—through the man’s chest. He drops the child and I rush to the man, surprised I knock him down. Slipping a dagger from my boot, I trace a line across the man’s throat, assuring he is dead. Weeping, I damn the enemy to hell for killing my father. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"><i>I hear the child whimper, It is a little boy. Deed done, I grab the child and flee to the lower level of the castle, recalling an escape through a door into the backfields. The lad is crying and I beg him to be quiet. I cannot pry the door open and someone...I just know it is the enemy...is clomping down the stone steps. Vast rows of casks line the walls and I ditch in a space where one is missing. I clamp my hand across the child’s mouth and try to control my heavy breathing.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"><i>The footsteps draw near. Once again, I am clad in the silk blue gown. The child is no longer in my arms, as if he never existed. The hand against my lips, covered with the blood of my enemy, is my own. Now it's me the knight is after. I press my back hard against the cask when I glimpse the end of his lance.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"><i> Dark and dank, the room smells like earth, tinged with oak. My heart pounds so hard, I am sure he can hear it, but he stalks by, his head void of a helmet. I hold my breath, waiting for him to pass...to give up his search...to allow me time to wake from this nightmare.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"><i> The knight takes a step back, then another and slowly turns his head. We lock gazes, his squints, mine widen. I shake my head, unable to speak, to scream...to pray. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"><i>The thud of his lance into the cask behind me takes my breath. I'm impaled. With my life slipping away, I grasp the lance in my chest, my blood mixing with ale, my breath whispering my last plea.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"><i> Spare...t</i></span><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">he...c</i><i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">hild. </i><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">Who is the child? I never knew. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">What a weird dream , huh? I mean, I was a <i>grown woman</i> in the dream, yet a young child when I awoke--with a silent scream, clutching sweaty sheets, tremors of fear undulating from the inside out. Certain of admonishment if I woke anyone with “that silly dream” for the countless time, I </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">couldn't </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">even call out for comfort after awhile. Cuddling deep in my covers, I'd whisper <i>it's just a dream</i> into my pillow, but </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">deep inside I knew it was real.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"> I know that doesn't make sense, and even as a child I knew it was a </span><span style="line-height: 32px;">contradiction</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">, but </span><i style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">somehow everything in that dream really happened.</i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"> The familiarity of it all made me question myself and ...well, everything. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">I shared this dream with my family, but stopped doing so when I'd receive a slow smile, a shared look which closed me out. "You're being silly." A litte hug and "Now go play." I kept silent after that.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"> I played imaginary games involving kings, queens, princesses and and knights that protected the people within the walls of the castle. I built some kick ass castles out of dominos, by the way. All along, I hoped my imaginings would calm the night to come. It didn't.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">Somewhere along the way from childhood to </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 32px;">adolescence</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">, the nightmare stopped. One morning, halfway through a bowl of cereal, the realization hit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"> I didn't have "The dream" the night before.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"> Odd as it seems, I simply knew I wouldn't have it again. No more knight, no more child, no more lance sliding effortlessly through my chest.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">And I was right; I never did. </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">However, the sound of the lance echoed in the recess of my mind as I drifted to sleep. That stayed with me long after the odor of smoke, blood, lavender, earth, and oak dispersed. The urgency to find the child, the fear, and death slowly drifted into a distant memory. The lance--the horrid sound of it hitting the cask behind me--was the last to leave.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"> Many years later, the nightmare returned in a way. No, it didn't creep into my bedroom,intent on haunting my night. The fearful remnants which resided deep in my mind transformed into something pure and good. I suppose my subconscious was the culprit..or savior. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">I didn't plan on it, but the dreadful nightmare is a scene in my novel, Jewel of Ramstone. This medieval romance was born from a long ago nightmare. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;">So, as I stated earlier: <i>A nightmare can become a dream--one to follow.</i> A horrid experience made my dream come true.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"> I'm a storyteller and I penned the life of Ruby in Jewel of Ramstone. A dream come true. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 32px;">UPDATE; Many readers fell in love with a secondary character, Sir Jac, in Jewel of Ramstone, So...yeah this will be a series. (I kind of have a crush on Jac too.) I've decided to call it Medieval Quest Series. Why you ask? (Okay, so you didn't, but pretend.) Because the obvious era, but mostly because the common vein is a quest to find truth, honor, memory, love...ya know, a quest for what is right. </span></span><br />
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Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-51732741132436501262014-11-25T22:07:00.000-05:002015-09-29T00:50:59.793-04:00Twenty-fifth DayWeird things pop in my mind. I'm serious. Today is November 25th, so like any weird person, I decided I must do something twenty-fivish.<br />
So, here's 25 things that make my heart smile.<br />
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1. My very own knight, who mended my battle-weary heart</div>
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2. Every moment my children smile</div>
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3. Family--even the ones who make me grit my teeth</div>
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4. Memories of my Ma-maw</div>
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5. Phone calls from my sisters</div>
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6. Hot cocoa jokes </div>
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7. Giggles at inappropriate times--which makes me laugh harder</div>
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8. Adventures in a different country </div>
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9. A vivid imagination</div>
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10. The gift of storytelling</div>
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11. Editors (I swear, a good one makes the difference between celebration and dread.)</div>
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12. People who believe in me</div>
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13. Second chances</div>
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14. Hope</div>
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15. Unconditional love</div>
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16. First words</div>
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17. Last words</div>
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18. A whisper when I'm mad. (especially when his breath tickles my neck.)</div>
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19. Jumping jacks (only my sister will understand this.)</div>
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20. When someone reads my books--and loves them</div>
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21. Critiques</div>
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22. When a character appears out of nowhere</div>
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23. When a character takes over a story</div>
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24. When people talk about characters in my books like they're real</div>
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25. The day Jewel of Ramstone was finished. (Though I felt a bit lost without the characters filtering through every thought.)</div>
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Tah-dah, there's twenty-five thankful things! *Wink* I'm thankful for alliteration too. </div>
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Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-18982343108245131002014-11-22T08:30:00.000-05:002014-11-22T08:30:00.533-05:00Something for Saturday: Spotlight <div style="text-align: center;">
Author Carolyn LaRoche's New Release!</div>
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<span style="color: blue;">Someone wants Angelina dead...again. Will following her heart put her in danger or in the arms of the man she's meant to be with? </span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As far as the world knows, NYPD detective Angelina
Ferrara died in a violent firefight on Chelsea Piers over a year ago. Living in
the witness protection program as history teacher Lucy Taylor was supposed to
save her life, but being alive and living were two very different things. Until
she meets detective Logan James when he goes undercover in the same private
school where she works. Something about the handsome man with the gorgeous blue
eyes piques her interest. There’s no doubt he has secrets… but then so does
she. When the Ricci crime family
discovers she’s still alive, she finds herself on the run with Logan. Her heart
led her astray before. Can she trust it to let Logan help her survive?</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: blue;">Excerpt </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Her
little car had an engine about as powerful as a hamster wheel. There was no way
she was going to outrun the truck that was accelerating with lightning speed.
On one side of her was a deep ravine, the other the steep slope of a mountain
towered high and tree covered. The steering wheel shook violently as she pushed
her little car to its limits, sheer adrenaline keeping her focused on the
winding road. As she rounded a sharp curve, the back tires spun and fishtailed
out from behind her. The tiny car shook violently as Lucy struggled to maintain
control. The SUV caught up with her then, ramming into her rear bumper. The car
groaned but held on. Lucy spun the wheel to make the next sharp curve, all the
while her eyes searched for a way off the dangerous mountain highway. Another
crash from behind jolted her car forward with such force Lucy lost her grip on
the steering wheel. The car veered right but she managed to straighten it out
before hitting the tree line.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">"What
the hell do you want with me?" she screamed at the truck in her rearview
mirror.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">The
driver responded by slamming into the back of her car again. Metal ground
against metal, gravel flew everywhere, and the car careened toward a thick bank
of trees to her left. Straightening the car once more, Lucy crushed the gas
pedal to the floor and watched as the speedometer climbed quickly. Lucy felt
the little rush of excitement she always got in a good pursuit despite the fact
that she was the one being pursued.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">She
whipped around yet another curve, and the SUV caught up with her. Just as she
managed to get her little car under control again, the SUV crashed into her
back end again with such force Lucy thought her car might shatter there in the
middle of the road. The little car veered to the right, aiming straight for the
side of the road and the ravine beyond. Lucy tried to regain control but the
effort was in vain. She braced herself as the car plowed through thick
vegetation, hit something, and started to slide down the steep embankment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">She
heard the growl of the SUV's engine roaring away over the revving of her own
engine as the tiny car crashed through the underbrush. The car flew over a log
and landed on the slick vegetation covering the incline. The car lost its hold
on the ground and rolled its way down the slope, finally landing up against the
trunk of a large pine tree where the engine died. Lucy's head smacked against
the steering wheel knocking her near to senseless. Everything fell deathly
silent as she fought to remain conscious.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">A loud
crack broke the silence. As she watched through the broken windshield, the tree
in front of her began to wobble. Blood trailed from her forehead into her left
eye blurring her already shaky vision. Rubbing at it with the back of her arm,
she used her other hand to desperately claw at the seat belt release. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">If she
didn't get out of the car, the tree was going to fall right on top of her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">The
giant pine swayed once and then began its descent toward Lucy and her crumpled
car. Yanking hard at the jammed seat belt, her head swimming and her stomach
churning, Lucy finally freed herself. Just as the tree crushed the roof of her
car, like it were nothing more than a tin can, Lucy pulled her body through the
opening that used to be the driver's side window.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Cracking
wood and crunching metal stirred up a cacophony of birds and small animals
protesting the intrusion in their habitat. Lucy lay on the damp moss and
rotting leaves, her heart banging against her chest wall. The sound of her
pulse racing in her ears muted the sound of the creaks and groans as the tree
settled against what was left of her car. Every inch of her body hurt, but her
head ached most of all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 19.0909080505371px; line-height: 37.3333320617676px; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b>Release Date : 11/28/2014 Pre-order Today!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"><b><a href="http://www.breathlesspress.com/index.php?main_page=product_free_shipping_info&products_id=694&zenid=37d349a60865b8bce8927ad0471de48d" target="_blank">Buy link</a></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOwTX-1CXl13g5_1zJ6Zd8eunA-HRNTrMMiwQgnZH2_2LZCJ1kr8jjcCnVOGoD2E74VHVXoeUPZFqN2vvpBuzggOZeS9AE6nep8CLJxeRI7nto-xp9k2nYHi2pFq4-yRi9GNVdVY9cvpU/s1600/Carolyn+LaRoche+Author+picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOwTX-1CXl13g5_1zJ6Zd8eunA-HRNTrMMiwQgnZH2_2LZCJ1kr8jjcCnVOGoD2E74VHVXoeUPZFqN2vvpBuzggOZeS9AE6nep8CLJxeRI7nto-xp9k2nYHi2pFq4-yRi9GNVdVY9cvpU/s1600/Carolyn+LaRoche+Author+picture.jpg" height="200" width="128" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Carolyn LaRoche grew up in snow country but fled the
cold and ice several years ago. She now lives near the beach with her husband,
their two boys, two finicky cats and one old dog. When she is not at the
baseball field cheering on big hits and home runs, she is busy teaching science
to unwilling teenagers. She is co-author
of the book The Crazy Lives of Police Wives and hangs out online at both <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Carolyn-La-Roche-Author/383999118398766?ref=hl">Carolyn
La Roche - Author</a> and <a href="file:///C:/Users/Jean/Documents/My%20Blogs/Carolyn%20LaRoche%20book%20spotlight/carolynlarocheauthor.blogspot.com">carolynlarocheauthor.blogspot.com</a><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<br />Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-33824506708815236602014-11-15T10:41:00.002-05:002015-09-29T00:44:44.052-04:00Something for Saturday~ What's better than a book?<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Seriously, what's better
than a book? You open the cover and words take you to a place you've never
been.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdRbb2BjEZNOu-IAjk79f_yvuiKOvOe8CSXGwbGOjotNPRX_yxK99IcVCfy1iVRZqtrUZWxH449MM0Cpm92znnMvX23PQaBsZvJ48f1l5ahuLQZzkWo-sU3qRctfYv2pFj3HbajPNzFy8/s1600/stock+photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdRbb2BjEZNOu-IAjk79f_yvuiKOvOe8CSXGwbGOjotNPRX_yxK99IcVCfy1iVRZqtrUZWxH449MM0Cpm92znnMvX23PQaBsZvJ48f1l5ahuLQZzkWo-sU3qRctfYv2pFj3HbajPNzFy8/s1600/stock+photo.jpg" width="227" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">That's what I love about
writing as well. I create characters, settings, and places for a reader to
escape to--if for but a while. (I escape too. Just saying.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">My main genre
is historical fiction. Especially medieval. I haven't a clue as to
why I've always been fascinated with that time period. I even had a
reoccurring dream that I was a medieval maiden running from an enemy
knight--well, I guess that's more of a nightmare, but that's another story. (If
I remember right, I posted about that nightmare a couple of years back. It
actually inspired a scene in<b><span style="color: blue;"> Jewel of Ramstone</span></b>.)
Maybe I'll re-post that later this week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Anyway...where was I? Oh
yeah, medieval times. I researched the era to assure the clothing, food,
weaponry and such are accurate in my stories, be it The Medieval Quest series with book one JEWEL OF RAMSTONE. or
my <span style="color: blue;">Magic Stone Series</span>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Fantasy is fantasy, but
I used what I gleaned from medieval research in the Magic Stone Trilogy as
well. Obviously I didn't research the time-travel element in that series. (I
really wish I had a Tardis...or Dr. Who.) Luckily, someone or something blessed
me with storytelling ability, and I wrote the first book, <span style="color: blue;">For All Time.</span> Cade
travels from medieval times to modern day where he meets Sage. And her dog,
Tex. I didn't intend to have my very own dog in the story, but he nudged his
way in, and nearly stole the story with his typical mischief. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgElHq0ZOVSekKp4q3w0UNqQDCs9sdmG_2rw8KXS9dhHjy3c9NtL3w4tFTRarjvoD8W2ac_X5nSdyd-ZopAPcu0Ddn4jo1Pha6L3MLHMAhPVBBUjhAYcafkuVTDoDAa5YaZJDBooYKycIA/s1600/DSCN0171.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgElHq0ZOVSekKp4q3w0UNqQDCs9sdmG_2rw8KXS9dhHjy3c9NtL3w4tFTRarjvoD8W2ac_X5nSdyd-ZopAPcu0Ddn4jo1Pha6L3MLHMAhPVBBUjhAYcafkuVTDoDAa5YaZJDBooYKycIA/s200/DSCN0171.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">The second book, <span style="color: blue;">Timeless Valentine</span>, is
filled with the wonderment a medieval sorcerer can bring to a teller at a bank.
Kerry, the teller, and Wren, work magic of their own. Enough said?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">The third book, <span style="color: blue;">Stolen Time</span>, was kind of a
surprise to me. I didn't even know the <i>first </i>book would start a series. Though
I am the author, my characters tend to take over my writing. There's a
secondary character, Margery, from book one, For All Time. When I wrote the
word END, I thought that was the <i>end </i>of her. However, Margery
refused to give up her fight. She nagged me, and refused to quit until I
gave her a chance to snag the man she loved. Little did Margery realize I was
going to tear her away from everything familiar...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Well, heck. I guess I've
rambled enough. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>Woman reading a book by stockphoto at freedigitalphoto.net </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>The dog photo...TEX--is mine. </i></span><br />
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Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-10453044974521155012014-10-15T00:18:00.000-04:002014-10-15T00:18:00.414-04:00What's for Wednesday? Each Wednesday of this 30 day countdown will spotlight whatever tickles my fancy.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQn3jfx568dMLgghwqv4Ow-NHWtzelZdHDKe43CAVwWjcxE0btKpABxz98AO_mYkUkdSKNVVAEbUiwTxQ_ukypL_Os2_WCci0gxh3ViTxSLosqX_OSfoh9uHUB1Gv6BDh9xXH8x_dLJbE/s1600/bp+author+widget+red+(400x400).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQn3jfx568dMLgghwqv4Ow-NHWtzelZdHDKe43CAVwWjcxE0btKpABxz98AO_mYkUkdSKNVVAEbUiwTxQ_ukypL_Os2_WCci0gxh3ViTxSLosqX_OSfoh9uHUB1Gv6BDh9xXH8x_dLJbE/s1600/bp+author+widget+red+(400x400).jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Today, I'm pretty damn tickled with the great staff at <a href="http://breathlesspress.com/" target="_blank">Breathless Press</a>. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you all.<br />
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<b>Justyn Perry:</b> Publisher. Thank you for giving my books a second life, and giving me hope when I thought I'd hit a dead end. Because of you, my creativity has a perfect outlet, and my future is brighter...all because you believed in me.<br />
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<b>Victoria Miller:</b> Cover Artist extraordinaire. She takes my ramblings and odd descriptions and somehow creates a perfect hug for my books. I just called a cover a hug, but that's how Victoria makes me feel. The art is a perfect compliment to the story inside. You know the old saying, don't judge a book by its cover? Pffft. Cover art is what draws me to a book. Thank you Victoria, for your amazing talent.<br />
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<b>Allie Kincheloe:</b> It takes a special someone to sift through a three hundred page manuscript, and know just what needs tweaking, a change of point of view, or a change in timeline...and more. Allie is that special someone. She's my editor, friend and go-to-girl for the gazillion questions that come up during round after round of edits. I love edits. I swear I do. I even share my chocolate with my editor now. Thank you, Allie for your gentle guidance. (And the crack of the whip at deadlines.).<br />
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My heart smiles at Breathless Press.</div>
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<br />Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-59978706673569571282014-06-14T07:00:00.000-04:002014-06-14T07:00:00.866-04:00Kelly Ryan~ Author ExtraordinaireHi blog followers! Allow me to introduce fellow author, Kelly Ryan. She's got fantastic new stuff in store for you!<div>
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Okay, Kelly...my blog is yours...</div>
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First of all I want to thank J. M./aka Jeannie, for letting me stop by her blog for a little chat today. Is she an awesome lady or what? Thanks again Jeannie!</div>
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I recently read a book entitled, Daily Rituals: How Artists
Work, by Mason Currey, which contains the daily habits of many famous artists,
authors and other creative types. It was a fascinating read and it really made
me think about my own daily writing rituals. First I noticed that there tend to
be two types of creative people, those who wake up early and have a very strict
routine when it comes to their work, and those who don't. Haruki Murakami for
instance gets up at 4 am when he is writing a novel. I certainly do not have
that dedication, or I just physically require more sleep than that man does.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNb486folFtZopZCJyqp9PmjU-7vnTY4PSmppMonDpdiaLr3hymmuUQlGPS1dXIVgSWwCEa4qYb0jykojsIsMim51qFLdKnTwk6P5CH2SbzdGVhF2z_nr_w5Oz3uZrboltUHvoFbMmuaQ/s1600/tired.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNb486folFtZopZCJyqp9PmjU-7vnTY4PSmppMonDpdiaLr3hymmuUQlGPS1dXIVgSWwCEa4qYb0jykojsIsMim51qFLdKnTwk6P5CH2SbzdGVhF2z_nr_w5Oz3uZrboltUHvoFbMmuaQ/s1600/tired.jpg" height="221" width="320" /></a></div>
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No, I definitely fall in the category of creative people who
work at different times on different days, depending on their mood and their
other responsibilities. I suppose I could write at 4 am every day, but I would
be useless the rest of the time and I have a day job to be awake for. So I
carve out writing time around my schedule, but I do work every day and I
suppose I do have some rituals, don't we all have some if we stop and think
about it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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When that grand time comes, be it morning or late at night,
when I get some alone time with my computer I have to get the internet surfing
out of the way. I check and answer email, working on my blog and webpage, see
what is going on over on Facebook. I have to do this before I write or I will
get distracted during. Then I can get to
my writing.</div>
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Sometimes I have a half hour before work. Sometimes I have two
hours at night. If I am really lucky I have both. It all depends on the day,
but hey Jane Austen wrote her novels little snippets at a time and then at
night as well. If it worked for her it can work for me too, right?</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Pi1ElJlMJTI65sJe5IOg8hPOqMGiblorAzjrH51o63cFMxH7BEICqued0uyUKozMNNWEA0aio2vdR904cqvJGIPHgcX-fI0BeTFzpien4D0UYvkahWwERhrjvR8lOET_tYKNU27Q_oE/s1600/jane+austen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Pi1ElJlMJTI65sJe5IOg8hPOqMGiblorAzjrH51o63cFMxH7BEICqued0uyUKozMNNWEA0aio2vdR904cqvJGIPHgcX-fI0BeTFzpien4D0UYvkahWwERhrjvR8lOET_tYKNU27Q_oE/s1600/jane+austen.jpg" height="177" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It most certainly can!</td></tr>
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I guess all writers and creative types have different
rituals and habits, but we all still put out work the best we can. Someday I
hope to be lucky enough that writing is my only job and maybe then I will have
a set schedule to write and maybe it will improve my output, but until then I
have my own process and it is working for me, writing little snippets one at a
time a la Ms. Austen! The important thing is that I have the ritual of writing
each and every day and that is all that it takes to be a writer!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Here's my latest creation:</div>
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<b><a href="http://www.breathlesspress.com/index.php?main_page=product_free_shipping_info&cPath=9&products_id=584&zenid=045e8e8d92a1b2203c7cbe7ee98a1f69" target="_blank">BUY LINK</a></b></div>
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<b>Blurb from Taking Pleasure Where You Can</b>:<o:p></o:p></div>
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John never thought that he would be the same after Pearl
Harbor, then he set eyes on Imee and everything changed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Ever since Pearl Harbor John had become a shell of a man,
not able to move on from the trauma. One night out with the guys and one woman
were about to change everything.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Excerpt:</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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Joe seemed to know everyone, and everyone seemed keen to be
near him. It made it much easier for the quiet by nature and still healing John
to slowly make some friends. Once the drinks started flowing, he even began to
loosen up a bit. He missed hanging out with guys, telling stories, joking
around, and laughing. His Captain had been right; this was what he needed and
what his friends who had passed on would want. He was beginning to feel alive
again, and it felt good. Then he caught sight of her.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Kelly Ryan, aka Sheri Velarde, lives in New Mexico with her
fiancé and two dogs, and grew up with a fascination for all things that
"go bump in the night", so it is no wonder that she turned to writing
paranormal romance among other genres of romance. She is an avid exerciser and
gets some of her best ideas while on runs. She also has a bit of a wild side,
which only leads to inspiration for her writing.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>Being an avid reader since an early age, she has wanted to
be a writer for as long as she can remember. She has been writing all her life,
but only recently started to actually try to pursue her dream of writing for a
living.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>She is constantly putting out new material, so it is best to
keep up with her on her <a href="http://www.sherivelarde.weebly.com/" target="_blank"><b>website</b>.</a></i><o:p></o:p></div>
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Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-69898184527395556422014-06-01T07:00:00.000-04:002014-06-02T10:53:29.285-04:00Awkward Say awkward out loud. Doesn't that word <i>sound </i>awkward? Yesterday, I discovered if I said the word awkward enough times, it didn't resemble a word at all! It just reminded me of a deranged crow. Giggling at the thought, I kept repeating it. Then...<br />
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my neighbor peeked over my privacy fence.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN_Ht3MSPHO9mywsOLHmeCZPsqCrnYkNKUY_JEonnWN-lOtZRYl5tQeUvfoynRt2XCWNd5LuoPK49AhnNW3ToS72_mUl0GIuWbcwzVLuEQiD96o63B1rOm3kFOYh57orf7EUw_-KcDQDM/s1600/giphy+(6).gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN_Ht3MSPHO9mywsOLHmeCZPsqCrnYkNKUY_JEonnWN-lOtZRYl5tQeUvfoynRt2XCWNd5LuoPK49AhnNW3ToS72_mUl0GIuWbcwzVLuEQiD96o63B1rOm3kFOYh57orf7EUw_-KcDQDM/s1600/giphy+(6).gif" height="232" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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I laughed so hard I nearly wet my pants. It was in those precarious moments of near-dampness that I realized I AM AWKWARD. Other than the fact I act like an idiot in public, here's proof of that deduction:<br />
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I am clumsy...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx6k3qzx6WGmFFiwfV846SsaJMbOPNs6nJaAi2S_ljMqECdrRFqEgCWAymRuWtRkSwM4kGVf5rsWU0_rYXWqbbVh8xw7IX5QG9AWQo-AH6IJo1PHeTlDU80bvp8_-gyXfR5wEyBn1M3sM/s1600/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx6k3qzx6WGmFFiwfV846SsaJMbOPNs6nJaAi2S_ljMqECdrRFqEgCWAymRuWtRkSwM4kGVf5rsWU0_rYXWqbbVh8xw7IX5QG9AWQo-AH6IJo1PHeTlDU80bvp8_-gyXfR5wEyBn1M3sM/s1600/giphy.gif" height="223" width="400" /></a></div>
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...and clumsy on top of clumsy.</div>
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I do weird stuff for no reason....</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8AMaySrqCcoy7Po5A7Ky7lvT7pW7_ViU3Duuihy6cNbjGl_31NBNUK5G1O2LnJ58B90FZZZFMWyrVWn-QoxXLqNnhyphenhyphenfGDsS-LVqgFhwYeswzbhqoNwR_P1Dw0Th_mdIQgGuPEJOiHwuY/s1600/giphy+(4).gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8AMaySrqCcoy7Po5A7Ky7lvT7pW7_ViU3Duuihy6cNbjGl_31NBNUK5G1O2LnJ58B90FZZZFMWyrVWn-QoxXLqNnhyphenhyphenfGDsS-LVqgFhwYeswzbhqoNwR_P1Dw0Th_mdIQgGuPEJOiHwuY/s1600/giphy+(4).gif" height="400" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and find joy in doing so.</td></tr>
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I blurt stuff like: </div>
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Libraries remind me of explosions from a fairy's imagination.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrpna5qtBCwoVvvB0OtOUkJuetYk0NewEUqLK-Yf2io2mvGazkLDQtyF8L1vmIHQ7uTRHgJgzD1MsTjsYpOOYn-ZSOZLoDzW-AhmV4VNu5nyr7kyHduOXxo3Lf21e4YR98yveqUhiw_x4/s1600/giphy+(5).gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrpna5qtBCwoVvvB0OtOUkJuetYk0NewEUqLK-Yf2io2mvGazkLDQtyF8L1vmIHQ7uTRHgJgzD1MsTjsYpOOYn-ZSOZLoDzW-AhmV4VNu5nyr7kyHduOXxo3Lf21e4YR98yveqUhiw_x4/s1600/giphy+(5).gif" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah, that sounded better in my head.<br />
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That's all I'm divulging...for now. People have a challenge understanding me as it is.</div>
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Can you relate? If so, what are some of your awkward traits?<br />
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Blog comments welcome...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQRjqzeE6CyK4vl0FCDboJXjH3v9JDN5ru2TtgS6i_PPpchxsSmWdcMz9gZMCFkykdX94SmNpRGkRCwt90g8D11Cu3_3OXr87EMwGz7b8eCpLfwNy0X67y9dIQBVcrx-P6OSISyH-OZYA/s1600/giphy+(7).gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQRjqzeE6CyK4vl0FCDboJXjH3v9JDN5ru2TtgS6i_PPpchxsSmWdcMz9gZMCFkykdX94SmNpRGkRCwt90g8D11Cu3_3OXr87EMwGz7b8eCpLfwNy0X67y9dIQBVcrx-P6OSISyH-OZYA/s1600/giphy+(7).gif" height="178" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...even awk-awk-awkward ones.</td></tr>
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Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-10825509704070912572014-05-25T23:50:00.000-04:002014-05-29T10:53:53.031-04:005 reasons an author has the right to throw a bookI know throwing a book at someone is wrong, but sometimes I'm tempted to do just that. There's things people should avoid saying to a writer.<br />
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People have actually spouted these things to me:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIZF_mZwo9IPClEpLCG9S_xz5qffUIRgLK7-UfCQsNA0VwQSUBZv57r5_0yKuKDaBNXM8w-ZBybp6Zn5ZMlROrzV7MVwoR3WhOaDYtTsswFjGV_lXJ2tYErKa-wXl3tVnxRZx03nuvpT0/s1600/ID-100130312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIZF_mZwo9IPClEpLCG9S_xz5qffUIRgLK7-UfCQsNA0VwQSUBZv57r5_0yKuKDaBNXM8w-ZBybp6Zn5ZMlROrzV7MVwoR3WhOaDYtTsswFjGV_lXJ2tYErKa-wXl3tVnxRZx03nuvpT0/s1600/ID-100130312.jpg" height="200" width="137" /></a></div>
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<b>"Oh! You write books? Can I have a free copy?"</b> My mind pings through comebacks like a pinball machine. <i>Oh! You paint portraits,build homes, write music or dance for a living? Can I have whatever you create at no cost? </i>However, I hand them a business card and smile. "You'll find the prices very reasonable.Thanks for your support!"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMeFRepnWadEyJ_Q8Y_XCAj9o56Q4hneYscmLoq0RyGsyBlhPHoOH9RUL22lqdK3yZzhfqoyqGz8hIgL17QaOrnCMyc-NBpKjNS5OiKmcJMqcWsT-yYuzmOK5n6sanLEQw0ValqlkQxLI/s1600/ID-10047584.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMeFRepnWadEyJ_Q8Y_XCAj9o56Q4hneYscmLoq0RyGsyBlhPHoOH9RUL22lqdK3yZzhfqoyqGz8hIgL17QaOrnCMyc-NBpKjNS5OiKmcJMqcWsT-yYuzmOK5n6sanLEQw0ValqlkQxLI/s1600/ID-10047584.jpg" height="200" width="118" /></a></div>
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<b>"Must be nice to play on the computer all day writing books." </b>Yes. Someone actually said this. I had no response. None. Sometimes I just have to walk away.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2t3LSnX885L-qofU8mJ9CzOTYdAz-ZD7fA08peeu0h5AvvDJW3uDjB39c0fvluxP7T1tj-oDYaTnsxV8gf3-pBgoMO3lIufKIL9cVYoehc_Mwfs-mVJe3onP1-TzeEzhXcY_dOTweNOs/s1600/ID-100225759.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2t3LSnX885L-qofU8mJ9CzOTYdAz-ZD7fA08peeu0h5AvvDJW3uDjB39c0fvluxP7T1tj-oDYaTnsxV8gf3-pBgoMO3lIufKIL9cVYoehc_Mwfs-mVJe3onP1-TzeEzhXcY_dOTweNOs/s1600/ID-100225759.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
<b>"I should write a book too. It's pretty easy, right?"</b> Okay, writing is a frickin' craft. Like a fine piece of furniture, it must be polished on a regular basis. Can you pick up a paintbrush and miraculously create a masterpiece? Can you sit at the piano and instantly create a stellar hit? Can you put on skis and join the Olympic team? Please, don't tell a writer their craft is easy--unless you enjoy dodging flying objects.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDePkl2wIMHU0ssBd6Uja72SRTRutJzHMSp17Pz3q3bevNb6SouQdmYovBxl6JAR1TLCht5nu6r4dLNkrOqbu_nOFZd6eZooteqMvaKogoKzUFk2DdLiF2rM9Bjl-FTv6_03Oq3RVsQkE/s1600/ID-100225765.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDePkl2wIMHU0ssBd6Uja72SRTRutJzHMSp17Pz3q3bevNb6SouQdmYovBxl6JAR1TLCht5nu6r4dLNkrOqbu_nOFZd6eZooteqMvaKogoKzUFk2DdLiF2rM9Bjl-FTv6_03Oq3RVsQkE/s1600/ID-100225765.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
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<b>"You're published? Then why are you working here?" </b>Artists--most of them anyway--have a day job.<br />
When my books hit the New York Times' best seller list, I'll quit my job. In the meantime, I need to eat.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4e8vJXwallwslOCthK616lYwhamFBcmdMMeiIEhl8m4a2Ww5uEtfUBxGROsOCIwNbXZL0nYg-TOvTfvNSvM9e3mm4x1QnTP-u7Z7ICFYbvMsq4XQXxYS7T43cLG9GG0gf6pY9HAjKNdA/s1600/ID-100225738.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4e8vJXwallwslOCthK616lYwhamFBcmdMMeiIEhl8m4a2Ww5uEtfUBxGROsOCIwNbXZL0nYg-TOvTfvNSvM9e3mm4x1QnTP-u7Z7ICFYbvMsq4XQXxYS7T43cLG9GG0gf6pY9HAjKNdA/s1600/ID-100225738.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
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<b>"How much do you make writing?" </b>My response: "Why do you ask?" This shuts them up every time. Besides, no matter what the royalties add up to, I first and foremost write because it fulfills me--unlike my day job.<br />
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That being said, let me add, I'd NEVER throw a book at someone...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWmAnwqEzc2BQiySCUhgBjSWR63R5xi3uq77BoroH7ko_BOF69D9Lzx94YAu_xoncK36q7JonZehODAPM_EX_zid5UFzokbJRE2oUBl75q6mjQaOPnrfooYIlh7rPt7SOGH8dCuf4oOBw/s1600/ID-100104103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWmAnwqEzc2BQiySCUhgBjSWR63R5xi3uq77BoroH7ko_BOF69D9Lzx94YAu_xoncK36q7JonZehODAPM_EX_zid5UFzokbJRE2oUBl75q6mjQaOPnrfooYIlh7rPt7SOGH8dCuf4oOBw/s1600/ID-100104103.jpg" height="288" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...it would ruin the binding.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Photos courtesy of freedigitalcom contributors:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Stuart Miles, Tungphoto, Photoknock</span><br />
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<br />Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-19673138822183653702014-03-09T19:13:00.000-04:002014-03-09T19:13:06.646-04:00I think I can...I think I can.I want to run away on a train. . <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Ec_qBe1mf3Kxq4DBZuMUJEZATjOCMIQE7lhal2SJODtghJpcWWZCGmImFWHdz9WCVRPQLUscuqXyzfWpnHK7F2WWe9_XsUvTl3x12EX-HB3r2wfhEtNKUB4IAPRnRbUH20Bbi_hHSBQ/s1600/ID-10045923+railway+by.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Ec_qBe1mf3Kxq4DBZuMUJEZATjOCMIQE7lhal2SJODtghJpcWWZCGmImFWHdz9WCVRPQLUscuqXyzfWpnHK7F2WWe9_XsUvTl3x12EX-HB3r2wfhEtNKUB4IAPRnRbUH20Bbi_hHSBQ/s1600/ID-10045923+railway+by.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seriously.</td></tr>
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I just received an acceptance letter from my publisher, Breathless Press. My novel (a.k.a. my baby) needs my undivided attention. So...I applied for a writer's residency on Amtrak. Why? Because it's hard to do edits while plugging my ears. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif5kefVUiz5k0SEQibkb1iPfXUGJ4VMGnZvtyRb4ZycqfZJHH76iKF9Ker6DzrGtOTOjGxmvaufKKkDbl3d_Gnwaeq1X_b4m4wf86OFpwLBYoRda6JQbxoCwPn2OkrsCFFZZBe5gPGxLM/s1600/ID-10035035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif5kefVUiz5k0SEQibkb1iPfXUGJ4VMGnZvtyRb4ZycqfZJHH76iKF9Ker6DzrGtOTOjGxmvaufKKkDbl3d_Gnwaeq1X_b4m4wf86OFpwLBYoRda6JQbxoCwPn2OkrsCFFZZBe5gPGxLM/s1600/ID-10035035.jpg" height="220" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lalalalala I can't hear you!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr>
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I have a noisy home; barking dog, autistic antics, and blaring game shows are just a few of the distractions I deal with on a daily basis. (Not to mention my three teenagers wrestling on the couch next to me as I write this post.)</div>
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I've actually considered taking a sharpie pen and writing DO NOT DISTURB on my forehead when I'm in my writing mode.</div>
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So, you see, running away on a train is probably a better choice. <a href="http://blog.amtrak.com/amtrakresidency/" target="_blank">Amtrak will keep me on track with my edits! </a> What a great idea. Run away from it all for a couple of days. I entered my information on the Amtrak site. Now comes the waiting part....</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYdtEnnjLitmRAEXiFak8046haGmhX0DJXEPQnzi0AYuwaHhga2r02UR03opyINYx6QqOOxJsoYt0h0XPi-ME-k1-K20EwOnR4kGRUS7ZRvXXwuMMyjluRVLgBQYYfCDYKpX8dV3JuhsQ/s1600/ID-10041103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYdtEnnjLitmRAEXiFak8046haGmhX0DJXEPQnzi0AYuwaHhga2r02UR03opyINYx6QqOOxJsoYt0h0XPi-ME-k1-K20EwOnR4kGRUS7ZRvXXwuMMyjluRVLgBQYYfCDYKpX8dV3JuhsQ/s1600/ID-10041103.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and waiting...and waiting....</td></tr>
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You know what I just realized? I used the words 'run away' and 'train' in the same post. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrJDNiw24DAUV3FZSHI_YX2Hro6XC_UCwx6LTQk9Hu23_89g40_ZQiFH0qHvdTmHNgt9ltBpS2wLLR6Ac2AVRmeMsgICW9O3Hvlehb2DyTJA8vWEp8L1-8o4iKTTT_dgFWaiZrw8oLAUw/s1600/ID-10074901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrJDNiw24DAUV3FZSHI_YX2Hro6XC_UCwx6LTQk9Hu23_89g40_ZQiFH0qHvdTmHNgt9ltBpS2wLLR6Ac2AVRmeMsgICW9O3Hvlehb2DyTJA8vWEp8L1-8o4iKTTT_dgFWaiZrw8oLAUw/s1600/ID-10074901.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Didn't quite think that one through.</td></tr>
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Would <i>you </i>apply for a writer's residency on a train? Why or why not?</div>
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<em style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 21.299999237060547px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Images courtesy of the following artists at FreeDigitalPhotos.net:</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><em style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 21.299999237060547px;"> Ambro, </em><em style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 21.299999237060547px;">imagerymajestic, photostock,and </em><em style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 21.299999237060547px;">Teeratas</em></span></div>
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Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-86136386645272423872013-11-05T08:00:00.000-05:002013-11-14T02:39:50.675-05:00Hot Halloween Heroes Giveaway Winners<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvnwEq-vlkAhLbG4-IPLEj5_MV4El3WX3Ed3GlfL5vKJ72O5_a3q-t6yKzNpJ_opsGKLgqwo5REnt6z6DVgZe67x6tuLfTyeP4Xh-gZMJgkyy14CoH-0LG0-xfLnAqtgbh4yhDlLJSbH0/s1600/winner.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvnwEq-vlkAhLbG4-IPLEj5_MV4El3WX3Ed3GlfL5vKJ72O5_a3q-t6yKzNpJ_opsGKLgqwo5REnt6z6DVgZe67x6tuLfTyeP4Xh-gZMJgkyy14CoH-0LG0-xfLnAqtgbh4yhDlLJSbH0/s200/winner.gif" width="191" /></a></div>
STOLEN TIME: Jean MP<br />
TIMELESS VALENTINE bn100<br />
FOR ALL TIME: Meghan<br />
BASKET OF HOPE: Desiree Reilly<br />
<br />
Let me know what ebook format you want in the comments. :)<br />
<br />
Thanks for your participation.And may I add....<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://media.tumblr.com/f85d9318fed38df9d5043c7506bd0063/tumblr_inline_mfcmu5g1eK1r05h4l.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://media.tumblr.com/f85d9318fed38df9d5043c7506bd0063/tumblr_inline_mfcmu5g1eK1r05h4l.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
I do happy dances for reviews on <a href="http://www.breathlesspress.com/index.php?main_page=index&manufacturers_id=190&zenid=c33bbd336473107a7369cbed8890aaa6" target="_blank">Breathless Press,</a> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=J.M.%20Powers&search-alias=digital-text&sort=relevancerank" target="_blank">Amazon</a>, Goodreads and anywhere else you may feel inclined to post one.Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-22817412739528481612013-11-01T08:30:00.000-04:002013-11-14T02:03:43.098-05:00Santa's Elves and Other Elven Things<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Spirit of elves:</div>
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Santa's elves evolved from a belief in European countries
that good and bad spirits were active during the 12 days of Christmas with the
help of Clement Moore's title, <i>The Night
Before Christmas</i>. Here's forty-nine more facts about the holiday: <o:p></o:p><b><a href="http://tinyurl.com/ckf3xq4">http://tinyurl.com/ckf3xq4</a></b></div>
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And here's another fact--There's a holiday read coming out soon!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3aJOsd8vvuq5Bp5PQ_nzq7qsdbt4rhtSIEx_lR_dgPoe2IlkKpZDk82lQF-3ydfolTMYE6wn0mqN9uo1WY-F_DEydUDOT9mKXaicnqUAYvD3I_u4dshoo_dB6LAJkcYHp8GyxX44bJs4/s1600/Ribbon+of+Darkness600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3aJOsd8vvuq5Bp5PQ_nzq7qsdbt4rhtSIEx_lR_dgPoe2IlkKpZDk82lQF-3ydfolTMYE6wn0mqN9uo1WY-F_DEydUDOT9mKXaicnqUAYvD3I_u4dshoo_dB6LAJkcYHp8GyxX44bJs4/s400/Ribbon+of+Darkness600.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
In the spirit of promoting a fellow author, I'm honored to present Decadent Kane's cover reveal--oh and what a cover! It sparks interest without even reading a blurb. However, here is a short one for those of you who wish to know more:<br />
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An old family secret draws Ribbon into an Elven world while
Draven is forced to find a way to drag her back home to save Christmas magic.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Ribbon of Darkness</i>
is set to release December 13<sup>th</sup> 2013</div>
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<b><a href="http://eepurl.com/FDtsL" target="_blank">Click here</a></b> and sign up for the newsletter to be notified of this and other Decadent Kane publications. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Here's a few more "click-links" to delve into elves...and learn more about author, Decadent Kane:</div>
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<b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/DecadentKane" target="_blank">Facebook </a></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><a href="https://twitter.com/DecadentKane" target="_blank">Twitter</a></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><a href="http://decadentkane.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/23398789-decadent-kane" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-65076226496979541862013-10-29T00:01:00.000-04:002013-10-29T00:01:00.564-04:00Hosting Heavenly Hot Halloween Heroes <br />
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<a href="http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/images/hothalloweenheroeshop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/images/hothalloweenheroeshop.jpg" /></a></div>
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I love to delve into the magical aspects of my imagination. I've written about feisty faeries, petulant pixies, sexy sorcerers, and time-traveling tavern tarts.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i97.photobucket.com/albums/l210/naughty_or_nice192/Gif/whatGIF_zps158ce392.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i97.photobucket.com/albums/l210/naughty_or_nice192/Gif/whatGIF_zps158ce392.gif" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Okay, so I alliterate to the point of insanity. Sue me.</td></tr>
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What draws me to paranormal romance? I love the freedom of building my own worlds and allowing the characters to develop into heroes.<br />
Halloween always brings about paranormal twists in my stories.<br />
Here's a few heroes to add to your collection this season.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbpiQrQNLfARr5aokkJ8bH0uUfwMiELoQMApQr1FG9PfG-36TnLTY7uTHyikwpfyczPE401ZY25bT1nOl5NLJjsPEFEOjlIPqr6gYLCMM8X7gTEli0uqkFXtfaBcZlDmSeF8tnGg0Q1bo/s1600/BasketofHope2550x1650+-+Copy+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbpiQrQNLfARr5aokkJ8bH0uUfwMiELoQMApQr1FG9PfG-36TnLTY7uTHyikwpfyczPE401ZY25bT1nOl5NLJjsPEFEOjlIPqr6gYLCMM8X7gTEli0uqkFXtfaBcZlDmSeF8tnGg0Q1bo/s200/BasketofHope2550x1650+-+Copy+%25282%2529.jpg" width="129" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Machais, hot and magical. Trickery is his treat.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii61CaxxdbPCr5jwcxjU94WAhAGgWR2pFY7DCNaufx5DDSZ5QEO6SsvTt95Ms6Co1Q0AQSfE7kA3Ns-UxD8-26hDzZxFefWSKZo4OKmKxwJqqGnH1oAP48LVX1-iWtjJCGssUZnwRgoaM/s1600/timelessvalentine+453x580.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii61CaxxdbPCr5jwcxjU94WAhAGgWR2pFY7DCNaufx5DDSZ5QEO6SsvTt95Ms6Co1Q0AQSfE7kA3Ns-UxD8-26hDzZxFefWSKZo4OKmKxwJqqGnH1oAP48LVX1-iWtjJCGssUZnwRgoaM/s200/timelessvalentine+453x580.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wren. Sexy sorcerer travels the unknown road.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbL-Kwh-SOGoatDbOz1JsvuUyQFlwM1kBhoeRzTZWfabQpu_hEsUEjSDMFrHkiszlSXrRakmPKcN-QIsc-7VrnP2Mw1hQYoXNPFx9yiSupK1IviJgFfYn2CtKq7LsQq195neTGIxgwXeE/s1600/for+all+time+200x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbL-Kwh-SOGoatDbOz1JsvuUyQFlwM1kBhoeRzTZWfabQpu_hEsUEjSDMFrHkiszlSXrRakmPKcN-QIsc-7VrnP2Mw1hQYoXNPFx9yiSupK1IviJgFfYn2CtKq7LsQq195neTGIxgwXeE/s200/for+all+time+200x300.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cade. Knightly magic in a tree.<br />
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And last but not any less heroic, the latest release of the <br />
Magic Stone Series....</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWTOX6nEPPZX9hUwLhd7elyomfPr0qXvWUWFIlAF8GXixYufMdbfUVl_EYkxeRij1oxFS5DH7e6EfEs-UArjKiz7gLX9AuMw7zSPnsjDvu2yRYmt0wu6OWmw1N6Ad1-XeXpLtSt8sYp68/s1600/stolentime_1650x2550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWTOX6nEPPZX9hUwLhd7elyomfPr0qXvWUWFIlAF8GXixYufMdbfUVl_EYkxeRij1oxFS5DH7e6EfEs-UArjKiz7gLX9AuMw7zSPnsjDvu2yRYmt0wu6OWmw1N6Ad1-XeXpLtSt8sYp68/s320/stolentime_1650x2550.jpg" width="206" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Margery, a medieval wench uses tricks to fight for what's hers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm trying something a little different in this giveaway.<br />
I'm offering various chances to win a book. Leave a comment telling me why you read paranormal romance.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
The first name drawn wins an e-copy of:</div>
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Stolen Time</div>
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However, it doesn't end there.</div>
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Second name drawn wins : </div>
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Timeless Valentine</div>
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Third name wins : </div>
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For All Time</div>
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Forth name wins:</div>
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Basket of Hope</div>
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Happy Halloween hopping and good luck!<br />
Winners announced on this blog November 5, 2013</div>
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Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-15664440814222593682013-09-30T01:35:00.000-04:002014-05-03T15:55:25.544-04:00Thoughts After Submission<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Get your mind outta the gutter. I don't mean it that way. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm talking about submitting a </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">manuscript. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I just sent my 'baby' to my editor. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And what do I do next? I obsess. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> I should've tweaked that scene for the twelfth time. Maybe I could have omitted that sentence, maybe even add or delete a whole paragraph? AGAIN. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Help. I can't stop post-editing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Why oh why did I let my baby go?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Oh yeah. So I can allow the characters to live in the mind of readers. Or, at the least, my editor. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So I've decided to work on the sequel. I love reading series books. So l write'em too. Besides, a character in the book I submitted has a life to live.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> And I must write.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> And ramble.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> Obviously. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm just gonna take my mind away from my baby and create another. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Put that submission out of my mind. No need to worry over things I have no control over. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_meudzctPj51rw8yv7.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_meudzctPj51rw8yv7.gif" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah. Right.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now I'm biting my nails...</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">waiting is a bitch.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm starting my next book before I go crazier than I already am.</td></tr>
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Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-90131867101244521112013-09-27T10:55:00.002-04:002013-10-01T23:05:30.321-04:00Stealing a Moment to Happy Dance<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxD8om1meqzHGTFPCbpxsi0dRlYSlYJ9pdJcvNdIUB6qIvh5m958kgh0CggFCL7i9FZt_fhDh-wbCouYBPkN_JXk5iAcIVo4Z8Ewn9_tJrFT8X5bgSSQ6Qlze5PBp7vt2Qu9aVy_kaYNA/s1600/Stolen+Time.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxD8om1meqzHGTFPCbpxsi0dRlYSlYJ9pdJcvNdIUB6qIvh5m958kgh0CggFCL7i9FZt_fhDh-wbCouYBPkN_JXk5iAcIVo4Z8Ewn9_tJrFT8X5bgSSQ6Qlze5PBp7vt2Qu9aVy_kaYNA/s400/Stolen+Time.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>Stolen Time is ready! Are you?</b><br />
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<b>GIVEAWAY: <a href="http://dcjuris.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Click here</a> </b>one winner contacted on September 30, 2013 via email and announced here.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After her plan to steal the Magic Stone goes awry, Margery accidentally travels to the future and is forced to reassess the true meaning of love. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Margery's had it tough already, but recently her life has progressed from unbearable to Hell's teeth gnawing without mercy, when the only man she's ever loved is stolen away by an unwanted time traveler. After Margery's plan for revenge goes awry, she's thrust into the future and finds herself in a strange place, surrounded by horrid, massive, armored birds. The only bright spot is the strangely dressed, but handsome man offering to shelter her—at least until she can return to her own time and get on with her mission. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">George can't understand his instant attraction to the costumed stranger, much less his overwhelming desire to protect her and fulfill her every need. Despite her crazy talk of time travel and a magic stone, his attraction brews stronger than his morning coffee when they touch. But can George come to believe in magic before his newfound love flees back to her own time?</span></div>
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<b>EXCERPT: </b><br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #010101; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 15px;">Margery feared her heart would shatter against her chest. It took but a moment to realize her plan had gone awry, and she was the one who had traveled. The stone was still clasped in her hand, Sage's hair tightly wound around it. What could have gone wrong?</span><span style="color: #010101; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 15px;"> </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She tucked the stone away, then ran a hand along the cold armored walls on each side of her. Wedged tightly between them, she fought her panic and peered out. Nay, they were not walls, but large containers of some sort. Beyond her hiding place, gargantuan contraptions, like monstrous birds clad in armor, filled the building. Intense thunder and heat from nearby permeated the air and trembled through her body. Where was she? Hell? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Men clad in yellow vests shouted over the din. She could not hear what they said, or if they even spoke her language. A whimper, felt more than heard, escaped her throat. Her palms, icy with fear, soon warmed as she vigorously rubbed the stone. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Bring me back," she whispered, crouched within the confines of the small space. She winced at the repetitious rat-ta-tat joining the other sounds. "Now!" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She silenced when a man neared. He spoke into a hand-held box. If she could have screamed, she would have, but her mouth simply gaped open when a voice emitted from the box. Sorcery was at work here. Mayhap <i style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">he</i> was a sorcerer. What luck! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She cautiously stepped from her hiding place, hoping he did not take her prisoner. Before she could say a word, he shouted above the din. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Holy shit! What the hell are you doing in here?" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Help me." The words spilled from her without a thought. </span></div>
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Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-12002980408814121912013-09-24T11:47:00.003-04:002013-10-01T23:05:49.406-04:00You're a WHAT?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Let's talk about magic today.</div>
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A hot guy named Wren catches Kerry's...er...fancy.</div>
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Then after he makes everything whoa-tingle-whoop with a kiss, he makes her feel beautiful for the first time in ages. More than anything, he makes her care.</div>
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Then tells her he's a sorcerer.</div>
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From another time. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You. Are. Frickin'. Insane.</td></tr>
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And he won't shut the hell up about a stupid rock. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Okay, okay. A magic stone. Whatever.<br />
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Now what?</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Or this?<br />
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Kerry has to decide.<br />
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Stupid damn rock.</td></tr>
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Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-70907756617214491372013-09-23T19:08:00.000-04:002013-10-01T23:06:10.831-04:00Knights, and wizards and whores, oh my!Did the title of the post get your attention?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wait. What?</td></tr>
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A fellow author took my (questionable) sense of humor and created some pretty cool stuff.</div>
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I mean really. What happens when you put these three characters together? Sage sure found out.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> I am so gonna slap that red-haired whore if she doesn't stop bothering the main character.</td></tr>
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Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5392133596903939705.post-80573138279605532532013-09-17T03:00:00.001-04:002013-10-04T01:58:13.422-04:00But I'm a Princess!<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;">My husband is Italian. Well, he says half Italian and half Sicilian, but I still say that's 100% Italian. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: normal;">(Now that I've over-used the word Italian, let me do it some more.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;">Though hubby is the Italian, I'</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: normal;">m the one traveling to Italy in the near future. Go figure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: normal;">My sister and I have planned this twin trip for two years. And we're not even twins.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;">My Italian delight is a sweetie, and is very excited for me. He says my enthusiasm is catching. So is my stupidity apparently: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;">Me : "Do you think this suitcase is too old?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;">Him: "I think its fine."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;">Me: "It's gray and old and it smells like...old."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;">*Laughs so hard he falls over the edge of the couch.*</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;">Me batting lashes. " I found a real cute pink suitcase online."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;">Him grinning: "You said that about your backpack and laptop. That's enough pink."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;">Me: "Yeah. Plus you bought me pink sneakers for my birthday a coupl'a months ago." *Shrugs and hangs head* "Maybe dryer sheets will help the musty smell."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;">Him: "Okay princess, where's this suitcase you're talking about?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;">*Taps furiously on laptop and points at this*: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Nb0c27edKRLGcTKWMD5KZpi-FHnopfZcCIzALRSEI9ntcJ6cR9Ly7eup_VorE4gkHJmTXkC9nMoRXAesgWnZ0Ah4jW3hjGnS9EQe1Ma62sVYt-LxnoZonvLz-NoWPL6TjgKpvXiMnHg/s1600/pink_suite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Nb0c27edKRLGcTKWMD5KZpi-FHnopfZcCIzALRSEI9ntcJ6cR9Ly7eup_VorE4gkHJmTXkC9nMoRXAesgWnZ0Ah4jW3hjGnS9EQe1Ma62sVYt-LxnoZonvLz-NoWPL6TjgKpvXiMnHg/s320/pink_suite.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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Me: "If you get me that, I'll bring you a souvenir from Italy. You name it."</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 22.66666603088379px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Him: *Scratches chin* "Okay, but make sure she's at least 25." </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;">Me: "She'll be at least 70, gray, and musty smelling."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;">Him: "So will your suitcase, princess."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;">At this point, I lost a tickling match. And the pursuit of a pink suitcase without having to dip into my Italy savings. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMRlgR-ApPof8TcxQ4wPoZZiL2oOxwIGkwrq0TelRNDS_-LjWrHI1HghYUYIG7JYZogSfH3doo1h7ioy2sscdLSUgCMtt0lnsHhZTmAr2jPA_MDm5Imi9lo7gSu6g2sYHGENsXHTRoubg/s1600/ID-10089347.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMRlgR-ApPof8TcxQ4wPoZZiL2oOxwIGkwrq0TelRNDS_-LjWrHI1HghYUYIG7JYZogSfH3doo1h7ioy2sscdLSUgCMtt0lnsHhZTmAr2jPA_MDm5Imi9lo7gSu6g2sYHGENsXHTRoubg/s320/ID-10089347.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah...that didn't quite work out.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;"> Yes. This was an actual scene in my life. Just thought I'd share one of the reasons I write romance. After twenty plus years, we still laugh together. And he still calls me princess. (Okay, so sometimes he calls me princess-demander-commander...but that's another story.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;">I need to end this post. He's tickling me with his kisses now. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: normal;">I just may get that suitcase. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: normal;">Seeing I'm a princess and all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: normal;">Ciao!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;"> photo courtesy of imagerymagestic at freedigitalphotos.com</span></div>
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Jeannie http://www.blogger.com/profile/00450618358681616482noreply@blogger.com3