“I’m Raiding” has Replaced “Bring Me a Beer”

So on my 7 year old daughter’s birthday (She turned 7 this Halloween), my ex ended our 10 year relationship. At first, I was devastated. I gave the guy 10 years of fidelity and honest effort. I’m told that women are led by their emotions and men are the rational, logical ones… yet it was I who hung on despite the many times I no longer felt any emotional attachment–or connection–with him at all. But when he decided he didn’t “feel the same” about me anymore, and “never would”, he walked away like 10 years is nothing. It’s been almost a year since my daughter was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, and it’s been one hell of a hard year for her and me both.

Relationships fall apart for a lot of reasons. Ours fell apart in part because my ex only considers two things to be of value in this world… money and sex. And once he started treating me poorly, he wasn’t getting the second and I was too focused on our daughter to focus on the first.

Yet it goes deeper than that. We all know and recognize the iconic image of the guy with his hand down his pants, yelling for a beer while he watches TV and his wife is bringing him a beer with two kids dangling off of her and her eyes crossed from exhaustion. After all, as we all know, he has had a rough day and he deserves to be waited on hand and foot because… he makes MONEY. And nothing else is of value in this world…

But the new iconic “involved husband and father” image isn’t quite so obvious. There’s no beer to depict his disconnection. Instead, it’s a computer and a group of soda cans.

Today’s dad might look more like this: http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/woman/health/health/3003526/Video-gaming-Top-Tuns-are-top-slobs-too.html

When his kid wants his attention, it’s “Stop it, I’m busy.” Or, if he’s in a good mood, it might be, “After this raid”. Which incidentally takes him well past the child’s bedtime. Unlike the beer drinking slob, he’d probably disengage long enough to get laid–because in the gaming community, getting laid is cool (as long as you don’t do it on raid nights).

I’m a gamer, too. It really is kind of addicting, and definitely fun. It can be social, as well. But when my daughter came along, it was me who cut back my gaming hours. It was me who quit raiding. It’s me who stops to play a game or to read a story or to take her to bed–on time (imagine it!).

Yet he was entitled to his gaming time because HE had a REAL job. Because HE brought in money. And he was entitled to sex for the same reason. The idea that he should get off of the computer and spend time with his family was a wonderful one. And he intended to do it. But not tonight. Not during a raid. Not when there were coins to gather or gear to get before the next raid.

I did a lot wrong, too. I kept giving up… and trying to get back into it. Our relationship was like working out. I’d give up and then try again. Then give up and get back into trying again. It was like working out for him, too… he’d try for a day and expect everything to magically change. A kiss that morning on the way to work was “trying to show affection” and if he didn’t get laid that night, then “it didn’t work” and if he did get laid that night, he didn’t need to try anymore because “it worked” and now he should be getting it all the time.

At the end of the day, I thought we were back on track to try with “us” again. I thought that, now that our daughter was on the insulin pump and I wasn’t checking her every single night at 12 and 3 and 5 am, we could work towards us. We’d finally found a babysitter for her who wasn’t petrified of her chronic health condition. It was all coming together…

Except it wasn’t. And you can’t have a relationship all by yourself. He had “fallen out of love” with me… was still in love with his computer… and just didn’t feel like anything was worth the effort anymore. But he did try for a couple of weeks to actually be a dad. And when he’s not near the computer, he’s okay as a dad. He gets angry easily, which he blames on me.  Though him blaming everything on me–whether it has anything to do with me or not–is trademark for our relationship. We quit counseling because it wasn’t fixing me fast enough.

The truth is, as I look back on it, he always thought he would be happy “when” and all of his “whens” focused on me. When I got a job, he’d be happy. When he was getting laid every day, he’d be happy. When that was happening, he wasn’t happy. When that was happening, he picked fights about other things every chance he got.

Now he can raid in peace, and I’m okay with the breakup. The reason why is simple. Because now I realize on a profound level that him being a jerk and a slob really didn’t have anything to do with me. We’re broke up now and I’m working to find my real self again while he… he’s still a jerk and a slob. Bless his heart.

Despite this post, I don’t hate him. I’m not even angry at him anymore. I’m seeing things clearly for the first time since I met him, and I know now that he will never have another chance with me. More than that, I know to look at my part of the relationship now, because I can’t trust what he says is my part in what went wrong. He’ll blame me for everything, just as he always has. So I have to figure out for myself which part of me I don’t want to take into the next relationship.

The most important thing is that I’m going to quit blaming myself for everything. I didn’t learn that from him, I blamed myself long before him. But he did teach me one very important thing… I don’t like someone blaming me for everything, even the ones I had nothing to do with. So it’s long past time I quit doing it to myself. I didn’t like it when he did it to me, so now I need to stop being a hypocrite and quit doing it, too.

If you know what I mean, you may want to check out this website: http://gamerwidow.com/


It’s Not Always Romantic

People ask me what I do. I say, “I’m an author.” Their face lights up, they’re interested. “Wow,” they say, “what do you write?”


“I write paranormal romance.”


Their eyes instantly glaze over. That look of fascinated wonder turns to bewilderment. I expect a drop of drool to escape any second as their face falls into a fugue. “Oh, that’s wonderful. So do you have any children?” Desperate suddenly to escape the topic, they will ask me any array of strange questions following that one.


There are writers out there that give us a bad name, we poor romance novelists. Some of them don’t have editors. After all, it’s romance, right? What do you need an editor for? You know, that one woman wrote this or that, and she got published. She’s a New York Times Bestseller, and she obviously never had an editor!


Yes. Thank you very much. You are astute beyond your manners.


This is part of what it means to be a romance writer. Some of your fellow writers betray you by ignoring the basic tenets of good writing (editing and proofreading). Some publishers and those NYT people betray you by elevating the same people who have betrayed the basic tenets of good writing. People look at you like you’re some sort of strange three-legged creature from the purple lagoon.


Spouses (or in my case, ex’s), rarely support such a peculiar (and naturally meaningless) endeavor. Those whose spouses or partners do support you, count your blessings, please! The rest of us are counting them with envy.


I could write pretty decent Fantasy. I could write a biography–I know many people who are constantly being told, “You should write a book [about your life]” who would be thrilled for me (or anybody besides themselves) to write their book. I could write an auto-biography. People tell me all the time, “You should write a book [about your life].”


But this is what I want to do. This is my dream and my passion. Writing about love, writing about that magic that sometimes happens between two people, when they actually forget about themselves for a while and become “other” focused… that’s my choice. And I have loyalty and even fidelity to it.


It’s not romantic in the same way that love itself often isn’t romantic. And sometimes, writing romance is like living in one… things can go wrong. Sometimes radically wrong. You may find yourself sitting in front of a white OpenOffice document, staring at it while it tells you, “I’m over this. I’m not doing it anymore.”


But you get to choose. In a romance, the other person gets to choose, because there are two of you. In writing, though, it’s me and the novel. And I get to say, “Well, I’m not giving up.” You get to make the choice for both of you–you and your novel.


It’s different because a novel isn’t like a man. It doesn’t get to decide to beat feet. You can sit on your novel and beat its face in. Hint: Do that to a man, and you’ll likely go to jail. You can scream at your novel and swear at it, and nobody says you’re abusing it.


Some days, you have to finesse your novel. You have to smile at it and wheedle it and beg it. You have to close your eyes and imagine again and again until you can write the words. You get as many second chances as you give yourself… the novel doesn’t walk away. It doesn’t yell back.


It just sits there, a big white blur on your computer screen, until you put your glasses back on.


And that, my friend, is where you readers come in. Knowing that you’re waiting, knowing that you’re looking forward to this novel drags the words, kicking and screaming, from the depths of my subsconscious where they reside in perpetual enshroudment.


Your expectation and your desire to read the next book pushes me to put my glasses back on and put fingers to keyboard.


I take a deep breath and continue because I have fidelity towards you. The long-term relationship I have with romance writing keeps on going because you’re out there. This is what I do, and you are who I do it for.


It’s not always romantic, that’s true. But romance has its place in the world. It brings us comfort and it keeps the hot chocolate sellers in business. For that reason, I must endeavor to continue!

Powerful Changes on the Home Front

So, as many know already, my 6 year old has type 1 diabetes. So far, it has been injections by needle 5-6 times each and every day. But on the 9th of Sept. we started what they call a saline trial with an insulin pump. This monday the 16th, she went ‘live’ with it, now having real insulin in it and no injections necessary! Now it’s 1 poke every 2 days (not including finger stick tests, which will never go away unless the technology improves).

This has been huge around our house. Telephone calls, appointments, excitement, arguments… stress. It’s a huge life change that is probably 95% positive, but still stressful and a lot of work. Going on the pump changes so much that they say it’s almost like it was when first diagnosed. I’m now getting up 2 times through the night to obsessively test her. It’s not easy or simple, and it’s an extremely exhausting transition. Well worth it, though!!


I feel so lost and behind with everything. The yard is a mess. The house is, while not overtly trashed, far below par. I am personally just so tired. I feel stretched thin and wrung out.


I regret in part that this has interfered so dramatically with my writing. I know there are those of you waiting impatiently (yet conversely, patiently) for the next book. I want you to know that I hear you, I feel you. I haven’t forgotten you. I can’t regret doing what I must to care for my daughter, but I do regret the necessity to set other things aside in so doing.

But things are on the move again here. For the next couple of weeks, I can’t lie, it’s still going to be hard here. The first couple of weeks of being on the pump require constant monitoring of her BG levels. So she’ll still be my priority. But something of a reprieve is on its way. Hang in there with me a little longer!


Thank you!

Featuring: A Tumble Through Time

You’d think that I’d be a whole lot better at this by now! I seriously literally cannot believe I’m late again. I have to say that I have been excited about and looking forward to this promo blast for a month now, and I still ran into trouble with it. I actually created the post two days ago, but I didn’t set the timer correctly. Nor did I have the good sense that God gave a termite to check today!

But, with no further ado, please check out A Tumble Through Time!

Cover_A Tumble Through Time


Anna Devlin, a recently jilted bounty hunter is a modern woman from the twenty-first century. She is anxious for the hearing that will reinstate her law enforcement career, but an encounter with a strange Native American woman sends Anna back in time to the year 1870.

Federal Marshal Wesley Shannon of Denton, Kansas, has no idea where this woman with the strange clothing and way of speaking came from. Since he fights his own inner demons, the last thing he needs is an attraction to a woman who has given him no clear idea who she is.

But when danger arrives in the form of stagecoach hold ups where drivers and passengers are being killed, Anna torments Wes with plans to help him bring in the outlaws.

Will Wes be able to keep Anna out of harm’s way, or will his attraction to her distract him enough that they are both in danger?


Anna was quiet on the walk to the café. Her eyes darted back and forth as she took in the sights around her, all the time fiddling with her ring, spinning the silver and black circle round and round. She continued to draw in deep breaths and chew on her lower lip, occasionally muttering ‘not possible’ under her breath, as if fighting an internal battle. Her natural color seemed to have paled, the light dusting of freckles more prominent.

Once they’d settled in their seats at the café and ordered dried apple pie and coffee, Wes rested his forearms on the table. “Tell me a little bit about this ‘Tulsa.’”

Anna cleared her throat. “It’s in Oklahoma.” She flinched when he shrugged, still not sure what she was talking about.

Oklahoma. You know, the state south of Kansas?”

He narrowed his eyes. “The only thing south of us is Indian Territory, then Texas.”

No,” she whispered, her eyes round as saucers.

Wes nodded at the waitress as she placed cups of coffee and two cuts of pie in front of them. She glanced at Anna, who stared straight ahead, taking in shallow breaths.

Once the waitress left, Anna nodded, as if she’d made a decision. “Wes, can I ask you something?”


She looked him in the eye, seeming to draw strength from within herself. “What year is this?”

His forkful of pie stopped halfway to his mouth. “What?”

Anna licked her lips and cleared her throat. “Just tell me, please. What year is this?”

He frowned and lowered the fork. “It’s eighteen hundred and seventy. Why?”

Then he leapt forward as Anna’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and her slack body slid to the floor.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:


Callie has been making up stories since elementary school, and writing gave her a way to turn off the voices in her head. After having a number of articles and interviews published in newspapers and magazines, she took on what she’d always dreamed of. Writing that book. She currently has a number of both historical and contemporary romance books published. Visit her website for more information. http://www.calliehutton.com

She currently lives in Oklahoma with her husband and adult children who move in and out with alarming regularity. Add three rescue dogs and the household is complete—and full. She enjoys hearing from her readers, and would love to have you visit her on Facebook.

Website: http://www.calliehutto.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Callie-Hutton/206166449404454

Twitter: @calliehutton.com

Buy links:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/182RS7L

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/17nayQk

Parenting: The Good, The Bad, and The Diabetes

The title is really no joke at all. There’s the good of parenting, the hard parts of parenting, and then there are physical conditions that are very much on their own level.

With the approach of the first day of school, the pressure is mounting.  It’s very much akin to the concept of a geyser building up pressure on a predictable schedule. That pressure mounts and mounts until it roars and explodes up into the air… only to settle immediately back into business as usual… yet that sense of slowly increasing pressure remains beneath the apparently tranquil surface.

That’s what back-to-school is like.

But then you throw in the unpredictable element of diabetes, and things get very strange. I’m playing phone tag all day long with people from Medtronic (we decided on a Revel insulin pump). I’m playing catch-up with the nurse educator, and playing verbal ping-pong with the school…

Thursday is our 504 meeting. It was going to be on Wednesday, which made me just want to cry. I really need Wednesday clear so that I can hopefully meet up with my old boss who may have a few hours a week for me to work. The money would be lovely, but more than that, she and her family became like a sort of extended family to me. I miss them so much that sometimes my heart hurts. I babysat their daughter for over a year, and in that time, how could you not become attached to them all?

It’s another price of this condition, and that doesn’t even speak to what my daughter has to face. It’s a struggle to take care of these factors behind the scenes for her and try to put on a brave face so that she doesn’t feel guilty. It’s a human thing to feel guilty even when it’s not our fault, and it’s just so unfair. I’m not going to lie, I fear doing that to her; causing her to feel guilt over something she has no business feeling guilty over.

This has impacted my life in ways that I never could have imagined or expected. Everything feels so ‘on hold’ during the summer.

I am hoping that the return of school, as pressured as it is, will bring with it some relief and allow me to at least partake once more in a bit more of life. I had always thought that school time was the harder time, the more busy time, the more active time. This summer has disabused me of that notion entirely!

Bring on the first daze of school!

I think I’ll take a nap at least once the first week. Wouldn’t that be something!

Promo and Giveaway: Dixon’s Place

Good morning, one and all. 🙂

Today, I’d like to suggest a fun little read that will appeal to animal lovers everywhere.

VBRT Dixon's Place Book Cover Banner

When Bill and Meghan Corradini, an affluent and self-described spoiled young couple, decide they want ducks to adorn the pond they plan to build at their dream home, neither of them can imagine the mayhem, heartbreak and joy that will ensue.

Bill decides to purchase a couple of ducks but when there are just three left, he cannot abandon the third sibling, so all three come home with him and are promptly named after players for his beloved college team, the Oregon Ducks—despite the fact that all are female. He and Meghan set about spoiling and pampering their ducks, lavishing them with love.

Unfortunately, despite precautions, tragedy strikes and it changes Bill and Meghan in a profound way. Bill tells Meghan that he wants to make a difference in the lives of abandoned, abused and neglected animals. They decide to devote their time and resources to doing just that.

Along the way, both mature and their bond is deepened and strengthened as they face numerous emotional trials, most revolving around the animals they rescue and usually end up adopting. Within short order, one animal becomes two and the additions to their household multiply. Their lives are irreversibly changed and enriched.

In caring for these animals, Bill and Meghan discover their purpose in life, serve as examples to their friends and family and realize their deep capacity for love—both for the animals they work with and for each other. Their story is inspiring and never dull. It will resonate with animal lovers everywhere.


William will be awarding a $10 Wild Child Publishing GC to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour.



Everything was perfect…with one exception. Selling our home would be more difficult with three ducklings living in my game room. They didn’t really smell; I cleaned their cage frequently. I wasn’t completely efficient, however, with making sure all of the used shavings made it from the cage to the garbage out back. Adding to the mess, Harrington, Fouts, and Dixon apparently loved taking pine chips and tossing them out of the cage, and I would constantly find shavings on the table and floor.

Meghan was adamant that I find a home for them. In new-home mode, she didn’t want anyone or anything “destroying” her perfect floors, countertops, and manicured backyard. She had visions of pristine granite as a background to her sparkling crystal butter trays, artful yard décor displayed near neatly trimmed shrubs, and an entrance that would rival any in Better Homes and Gardens.

I resisted and decided the ducks would love our new home as well, and besides, I had grown attached to the little buggers. They were no longer a novelty, a piece of “art” to go with the backyard ambiance. They were becoming a part of my daily routine, something I looked forward to, and, in turn, a part of me.

On the Fourth of July, we decided to put our house back on the market, and by then our ducklings were nearly fully grown. It became apparent they were all from the same batch: Dixon dark brown with medium brown streaks, Harrington medium brown, and Fouts beige with brown undertones. All their feathers came in, and their chirps went to chirp-quacks, similar to a boy going through puberty, and then finally into full-blown quacks.


About the Author:


William Corradini, 42 years old, lives in Keller, TX with his wife of 10 years, Meghan. He is a sales manager at Staples Advantage where he has been for over 13 years.

William grew up on a ranch in Eastern Oregon and he spent most of his youth around farm animals, dogs, cats, parrots and any other four-legged furry, fuzzy creatures that decided to call their ranch home.

William has lived in the Dallas-Fort Worth area for 20 years and for much of that time had adopted the ‘city life style’. He had all but rejected his roots and his interests in animals. This all changed in 2008-and it started with him buying three ducks.


Barnes & Noble (Nook):



Wild Child Publishing:


The Great Travail: Diabetes vrs. Writing

As some of you may know, my 6 year old daughter was diagnosed in Dec. 2012 with type 1 diabetes. I won’t go into all the differences between type 1 and type 2, as anyone interested enough can look it up. I’ll suffice it with this… my daughter can eat anything that anyone else can eat, she just requires a shot of insulin before she can eat it. In type 2, the person’s body doesn’t like insulin–it resists it, basically. In type 1, the body, simply put, just doesn’t make any.

So, there’s the super-extra-fast skinny on the differences…

On to the point. We are in the process of getting her onto an insulin pump. We are also in the process of changing from one endocrinologist to a different one. Both of these have been extremely stressful, and getting her insulin pump has been delayed until August, if not later. I’m hoping for a reprieve and that we’ll manage to get it earlier and faster. Here’s crossing my fingers.

That being said, everything else in life has gone on hold for quite a while thanks to these issues. Diabetes, at least in these early months, is all-consuming for the caretaker(s). At least, around our house it has been. It’s learning and figuring and researching and trying to learn this pump versus that pump. It’s reading about how to pretend you’re a pancreas.

Pretending to be a pancreas is kind of like pretending to be a state-of-the-art computer from 2206. I just as well try to be a rock star or pretend that I’m an astronaut. In other words, it’s just not possible–yet it still consumes so much time, energy, and effort.

In the meantime, we’ve finally gotten to the point where we’re trying to catch up with some things at home. I’m getting a new desk. Since I”m a mom, my desk is sort of the dumping ground for pictures (I made this just for you, Mommy!), for personal grooming supplies (do you have the toenail clippers? no… er, wait… uh, eww!), for my own stuff (I know it’s around here somewhere!), and for pretty much anything and everything else you can think of (or, hopefully not… some things I’d rather not think of).

Additionally, we’re finally getting that deep freezer that I’ve coveted for years. Then there’s the garden that needs weeding and planting. Not to mention that the cherry bushes out front are being choked out by dandelions (which is a problem, because I actually like dandelions). Oh, also, there’s the small matter of cleaning up the storage room to make room for the bloody stupid freezer that I was entirely certain I really really wanted until I saw that storage room and remembered we have to clean it before… wait, what was I talking about?

Oh yes, something about writing.

I’ll be back at it soon. Except that the school year is ending and naturally, we’re right in the middle of changing doctors (both endo and pediatrician, by the way), trying to get an insulin pump, trying to clean the back room, trying to weed the garden, and trying to get my desk cleaned to make room for the new one.

Tired yet? I know I am!

But, I haven’t forgotten writing and I’ll be back to the poor old abused grindstone soon, I promise!

No, seriously.

Review: Death Lies Between Us

VBRT Death Lies Between Us Banner(1)

I got the wonderful opportunity to review the YA Book Death Lies Between Us by Jody A. Kessler!

First, THE BOOK!

Cover_Death Lies Between Us

Saving the life of someone you love should not be the worst thing you have ever done, unless you are an Angel of Death.

Disgruntled with his position in the afterlife and conflicted by his feelings toward his new client, Nathaniel Evans forgoes the rules and saves nineteen year old Juliana Crowson from being hopelessly stuck in Forge Creek. This alters Juliana’s destiny and she finds herself in a series of near death accidents.

In the mountains of Colorado, Nathaniel comforts Juliana as she struggles to understand her paranormal abilities while coping with her brother’s drug addiction. When an ill-tempered Native American Shaman teaches her the difference between ghosts and place memories, she decides she wants nothing to do with the supernatural world. Too bad she doesn’t know that Nathaniel is part of it.

Will fate bring these two together, or has Nathaniel made the biggest mistake of his afterlife?



I can help it feel better. Trust me. Just one more second and… there.” I place her foot down on the grass and lean back. “Feel any better?”

She covers her foot and ankle with her hands. “Yes, much. It’s not even cold anymore.”

She looks at me with a clear question on her face. I turn away and watch the water meander downstream. “You should be more careful out here. What if I hadn’t shown up?”

I could’ve died from hypothermia.”

You don’t sound disturbed about it,” I point out.

You did show up though, and I didn’t die.” The next thing she says into her lap, but I hear it clear enough and I am surprised by the words. “It wasn’t totally unexpected.”

Did you just say you were expecting death?”

Does that sound crazy? It’s just — I had a feeling something really horrible was going to happen today.”

Do you get that feeling often?” I ask. Maybe behind those delicate green eyes is someone who is missing a few marbles. I don’t really believe it from the short amount of time I’ve been with her, but it’d make things less complicated right now if she was mental.

Not often, no. But one time something really bad did happen, so I take it seriously.”

I remembered her black pen scratching, the words “when will it be my time” and her sullen face in her room. Is she psychic or something? She sits still, her eyes focused on her lap. Her fingers are busy shredding blades of grass into miniscule pieces.

It ended up not being too terrible after all. You came, and now I’m fine.”


The Author


Jody A. Kessler enjoys writing paranormal novels and is a member of Pikes Peak Writers. She is a yoga instructor, Reiki Master, and a graduate from the Colorado Institute of Massage Therapy. When she took an extended leave from her massage practice to stay at home with her newborn she returned to her first true passion —writing. She spends most of her time being a mother, writing, and teaching yoga, but also likes going to concerts, hiking, practicing herbal medicine, and reading anything that catches her interest. Jody lives in the mountains of Colorado with her family.

She welcomes visitors to her website www.jodyakessler.com

Buy a copy on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Death-Lies-Between-Us-ebook/dp/B00BLMYLUG/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1362021443&sr=8-1&keywords=death+lies+between+us

Or connect with her here:






My Review

Okay, so there were two things I didn’t like about the book, and I take a few points off the top because of it. I don’t like first person writing, and I pretty much detest two-person first person writing. I decided to keep reading the book, but I admit that this did bother me through the whole thing. That’s personal taste, though, of course; and I think that today’s YA readers rather like that, so those are personal points taken off, not “writerly” points. 😀

What I did like about the book, however, was that I felt that Nathaniel was NOT your average YA hero. Ms. Kessler managed to make him both that brooding, dark hero that YAs these days enjoy, without giving him the cliche “emo” feel that so many of them express. He acknowledges his difficult upbringing, but it doesn’t become “the thing” that defines him. Too many novels these days follow the trends and ride on the laurels of other books, but Death Lies Between Us is a hero who has his own personality, his own experiences, and his unique view of life. This very much endeared the book as a whole to me.

I liked Juliana, too; although some of her appeal is just in her abilities. But she is a relatable heroine for YA, and her loyalty and bravery made her likeable. She had her moments, but over all I feel that Ms. Kessler managed to make a heroine in a YA novel that was someone you wanted to cheer on rather than strangle; and for a YA novel, that is a remarkable feat in and of itself.

Now, most of the points I award are for storytelling. Does the author deliver? Because that’s who the majority of the book review reflects upon. It’s also information for other readers. So I will say that Ms. Kessler delivers in the storytelling. I also must give another bit of kudos here for the editing and proofreading staff, who also delivered! The book is sound in the ‘kicking the tires’ department as well as the storytelling department.

Over all, Thank You, Ms. Kessler, for the excellent read! I enjoyed it, and I will recommend it. 🙂


RAFLCOPTER! How could I forget!

Rafflecopter giveaway



Blogger’s Note

PS, I must apologize for being late yet again. Naturally, because that’s the way this has trended for the two times I’ve done Goddess Fish Promotions posts… I had a major issue that made me late yet again. Yesterday’s Windows 8 update became the Windows 8 reformat from the pits of hell. Therefor, I lost my original review, which I wrote something like two or three weeks ago, because I liked the book enough to read it in one sitting. I’ll do my best to remember what I said, and I might add onto what I write after I scan the book again today. Thanks Windows! /sarcasm

A Gargoyle’s Might: Meet The Huntress

(These links go to either my own website or to the Supernaturals Wiki)

Book 2 in the Supernaturals Now series is A Gargoyle’s Might. This is Lincoln and Ivory’s book.

I have struggled with this book because Ivory is such a not-likeable character in the beginning. I really dislike her, and every time she seems to come up with a redeeming quality, she turns around and does something else particularly irritating.

That’s not the least of it, however. A lot of new players are stepping onto the board. Many of them are ancient, canny, unnerving creatures with few or no morals and vast powers. The primary one of these is The Huntress. She has forced her way forward by entering Tallis‘ territory at just the wrong time.

As you may know from My Love Under Cover, there’s a powerful, underground ring of drug lords dealing EnVygle to the rich. Just as tensions are at their highest between Tallis and Nerianne, and as Tallis nearly starts a war with the Ifrit Emperor, The Huntress arrives on the scene.

For all of her known history, The Huntress has been singularly neutral. She does not involve herself in any squabbles or fights between any of the other races. Despite this, she has been the most hunted creature, ever. Her power is so great that she is feared by every single race on Earth. Every creature from vampires and werewolves to goblins and wraiths fear her; not because she has done anything to any of them, but merely because she could destroy them all if she decided she wanted to.

For now, most of them are unaware that something even more dangerous brews in their midst. They are beginning the process of gathering together to combat any danger The Huntress may present. While they are distracted by her, another force plots dominion over all things.

The plot has certainly thickened in A Gargoyle’s Might.  Lincoln and Ivory are struggling to find common ground, completely oblivious to the danger that awaits them at every turn. Bless their hearts. 😀

PBP: Hegemony

When I thought about writing for the Pagan Blog Project this week, I thought of all kinds of words, but they just didn’t seem to fit where I’m at right now. I thought of harmony, hope, happiness (again), harps, and others I probably shouldn’t share.

Then I realized that this week I’ve been dealing with the concept of hegemonies in my writing and my personal life.

Dictionary.com’s second meaning for hegemony is what I wanted to address:

2. leadership; predominance

Lately, I’ve been considering; wondering what has hegemony in my life? Where do my priorities really lie? I’ve been re-reading the Tao this week, as it’s my primary spiritual inspiration. As a sort of eclectic pantheist, I guess, I believe in one Great Intelligence, which pictures itself in the world as a multitude of beings and intelligences, great, small, and in between.

The greatest and most powerful expression of that Great Divine Intelligence is Love.

When I rise in the morning and stare at the sun for a few seconds (when it’s not obscured), it is love that I feel. Reverence for this great ball of fire, the Seat of the Divine… and its unconditional love for all things.

I don’t remember who said it, I believe it was Eckhart Tolle in one of his books, but the sun looks down upon all with equal love. It shines upon the rich, the poor, the tall, the short, the fat, the thin, the young, the old… it shines its undying, unalterable love upon everyone.

The sun is the ultimate Hegemony of this world. For without the sun, all things would cease. No more plants. No more animals. No more you, no more me. Just a cold, barren ball of frozen rock, hurtling through space. It has ultimate predominance over everything.

Yet as the Tao reminds us… it does not interfere. It stands above us all. It is the source of all life… but like Love Itself, it holds no bias. It shines. It loves.

Like the sun, I desire Love to be my Hegemony. That sort of ultimate Hegemony wherein there is only Love shining forth, without compromise, without condition. I choose to let Love have predominance in my life. I choose to let Love lead my actions.

What has Hegemony in your life?

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