Saturday, June 21, 2014

Summer has arrived, let the party begin

Summer is my favorite time of the year. I love the heat, long days and sand between my toes. But today is also a special day, it's my birthday.

So for the next few days I am going to celebrate and I want you to party with me. Bring your lawn chairs, favorite beverage and get ready for some fun because this year I am giving the gifts.
All you have to do is comment below and I will choose a few lucky winners on Monday to receive an awesome swag basket and a copy of my book...Rescued from the Dark.

She has no memory of their love…

Kidnapped by terrorists and sent into a drug-induced coma, FBI intern Mercedes Kingsley awakes with no memory of her ordeal—or the intimate interlude that left her pregnant. Convinced her child was fathered by her ex-fiancĂ©, Mercy walks away from the only man she has ever loved, determined to make things work with her ex, a man the FBI suspects is implicated in her abduction.

He knows the truth, but no one will listen…

FBI undercover agent Jason Michaels remembers what Mercy can’t and those memories are breaking his heart. Forced to keep his distance from his lover and their unborn child, Jason risks his life to protect Mercy from a cell of international terrorists who have vowed to get the secrets locked in her memory, no matter the cost. Can Jason convince Mercy to trust him until she remembers their past, or will he lose her to a man who will trap her in a nightmare world of darkness from which there is no escape?

So think about what you love to do in the summer and share your fun times with me below. I love to go to the beach.

 My stress relief. A good book, and the ocean beneath my feet.

I'm off to get the table set and the cooler filled. The door is open so come on in and lets get this party going.

Sunday, June 15, 2014

I have a Pen addiction and I'm not afraid to admit it.

That's why  your pen is in danger, If I'm around.

That's right, I'm a Pen-aholic. When I get near a pen I can't help myself. Before I know it I have it in my pocket and I'm walking away.

My friends, and family know I have a problem and are helping with my rehab. If they like a pen, they hide it. They only leave the pens that they don't like out in the open. I have even ran into pens that are tied up so I can't slip them in my pocket.

I truly appreciate their help, but it's not working. The other day I cleaned out my purse and found 17 pens at the bottom. No wonder it was getting heavy.

I've tried many things to change my ways, but nothing works.  I'm a writer, so I'm constantly looking for something to jot down ideas with.

And I love pens. All types, and colors. My favorite are fine points. I love the crisp, clear lines they make and how smooth they write.
So you see why your pens are not safe in my company.
Protect your pens, lock them up, keep them safe because I just can't help myself.

Now to go find a pen and write another chapter.

What's your addiction?
Share so I don't feel like I'm the only one that needs therapy .

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Abuse shouldn't be a part of someone's past. Be the voice that get's heard.

                                          A Child should be seen, not heard.
Who truly believes that? I don't. Children have a voice, we should encourage them to use it. Not hide behind their silence.
Abuse comes in many forms. The most visible, physical. The next one we are familiar with is verbal but the one we cannot forget is emotional.  I am very familiar with the last two. I spent many years hiding behind a mask, never feeling like I was worthy, then being reminded of all my faults, and why I would never go anywhere in life by someone who wore a bigger mask then I did. 
We look at our society and wonder what happened. Why is little Mary always crying and why is little Johnny so angry all the time. 
If you fill a child's life with anger and disappointment then that's all they will know. You can't raise a child on nothing but negativity. If you tell them everyday that they will never amount to anything, then they won't. 

Now I'm not saying that being a parent today is easy. It's not. I was a foster parent for years, and have five of my own children. Each one had a different personality, and one loved to push every button, and bend every rule. But with what I had to live through I knew what was more important at the end of the day.
A little praise, and a lot of love. Even on the trying days when my son was determined to make me gray I always found something to compliment him on, even if it was just knowing when to say he was sorry.
My next book, If I Knew Then, is a story about Angel's journey from a life of pain and fear to one of hope and forgiveness.

 Icy cold fingers tightened around Angel’s wrist, jerking her hand back towards her arm. She gasped, and her eyes widened, as her wrist cracked against the pressure. Her knees grew weak and she fell forward, grabbing the crush velvet theater seat in front of her. Her fingernail's bit into the fabric as her mother’s eyes blazed down at her. A high pitch screech filtered in from the hall, and Angel’s heart pounded in her chest.
“That would be your sister unlocking the back door.”
Her Mother’s voice was hard, but not an unfamiliar tone to Angel. Her fingers opened and Angel’s hand dropped like a rock, and she grabbed it, clutching it to her chest. Her wrist throbbed and her fingers were numb, but she knew it wouldn't last. It never did. Her mother always knew when to stop.
“I want everything brought in, and the boxes emptied on stage before everyone arrives. You only have an hour, now get moving.”
Her mother rolled her eyes as Angel dropped her arm, and shook her hand to relieve the pain. The tingling in her fingertips disappeared, and Angel opened her mouth but her mother waved her hand to dismiss her as she checked her watch.
“One hour, Angel. Not a minute more.”
Her mother turned on her heels, then rushed out the side door.
Angel’s fear subsided, but anger took over as she stomped up the aisle. Her footsteps echoed through the musty dark theater, blocking all other sounds around her. One more year, just one more year. She yanked open the as the pain shot across her ribs. Angel sucked in a breath, and the cold metal handle slipped from her fingers as she grabbed her side.  They said time healed all wounds. Well, they really got that one wrong. The slamming door vibrated across the floor, and she cringed.  
“How many times have I told you not to slam that door?” Alice said, mocking their mother’s voice.
She stifled back a moan and gritted her teeth. She loved her sister, and the throbbing pain she tried to rub away, was a harsh reminder of how much. Her dad told her to take care of her sisters when his unit deployed last year. He just never knew who she needed to protect them from every time he left. 

No release date as of yet but this story will be released through,  Black Opal Books, and I'm going to donate part of the proceeds to child abuse awareness.
Once a week I am going to write a post about abuse and how it effects our past, present and future lives so come back.

Thanks for stopping by and I hope to see you again very soon.