tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-330552072024-03-07T00:33:12.920-08:00Musings of a Chocoholic Romance AuthorA day in the life of a romance author, from the mundane to the crazy. From family life to writing life. And sometimes, my opinion, which often isn't noted for being very humble.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger564125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-83642226128608348922013-09-16T12:59:00.001-07:002013-09-16T12:59:54.180-07:00Random *Thoughts and *ThunksBecause I pay so much attention to this blog, I thought it would be a good idea to start ANOTHER blog. *THUNK. <br />
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It's because the Bat Collective needed one, due to us cranking out anthologies. Seemed like a good idea at the time, and over time, I'm sure it'll serve us well. RIGHT? *THOUGHT.<br />
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<a href="http://batcollective.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Bat Collective Blog</a> - because you know you wanted a link to click. *THUNK.<br />
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One of my friends shared a link to an article listing 10 things writers are tired of hearing. My fave on the list? #3: "How much money do you make?" Yes, I've been asked this, got so I'd try to avoid the lady who asked every time she saw me (and I hadn't made good my escape.) Another friend shared her answer to that very question: "How much did you make as a nurse last year?" It's not an okay question to ask to begin with, so why do folks think it's okay to ask writers this? I'm going to start saying, "Like Liberace, who said, 'That hurt my feelings very much. I'm going to laugh all the way to the bank' - I too am laughing all the way to the bank." *THUNK.<br />
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It's that time of the year again - pumpkin flavored everything. Marshmallows. Jello pudding. Pumpkin bars. Pumpkin cookies. Pumpkin cake. Pumpkin pancakes at IHOP. Yay! *THOUGHT.<br />
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I've been listening to the Bee Gees lately. I refuse to be embarrassed about the fact that I love them. They wrote their own songs, they wrote songs for others - they sang in fantastically gorgeous harmonies, and if you think singing falsetto is easy, I dare you to give it a go, <strong><em>and</em></strong> sound as good as they did. In fact, I learned that Barry Gibb got a call from his manager who was going to do a movie called *Grease* and needed a song by the same title. I read, and I dunno where, that it took Barry an HOUR to write the song *Grease*. Think about that. An *hour* to write a song that became an instant classic. The *Grease* soundtrack was second only to *Saturday Night Fever.* Guess who wrote that 2nd soundtrack? (Yeah, that's a trick question, because if you don't know the answer, then you probably either unconscious during the '70s, or weren't born yet.) Think about that. Yet, for some reason, it's okay to "Bee Gee Bash." I hope they took note of Liberace, and also laughed all the way to the bank. And if you want to dismiss the Bee Gees' lyrics, try listening to them - really listening, then get back to me. *THOUGHT(ful).<br />
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Boxes don't magically unpack themselves. For this reason, I don't recommend moving houses. *THUNK.<br />
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Great opening lines for stories will occur to you in the most inconvenient places - while you're in the shower (a friend of mine years ago recommended showering with a sharpie, so you could write your ideas on your thighs - yes, I'm pretty sure she was joking) ; at the Laundromat; while you're driving; any time you don't have any way to write it down somewhere; when you have four other WIPS going; last, but not certainly least - that twilight-y moment when you first awaken in the morning, and you're not conscious, but you're not conscious, either... *THUNK.<br />
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It's ALWAYS a good time for a nap. Unless you're a toddler, in which case, no time is a good time for a nap. *THOUGHT & *THUNK.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-28113021132244264642013-08-29T10:32:00.000-07:002013-08-29T10:32:12.466-07:00Just Keep Swimming, Just Keep Swimming, Just Keep Swimming...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is the new Hamby Family Motto. Yep. See, we've been in a state of chaotic flux since the beginning of summer, what with putting our house on the market, selling said house, going on a house hunting trip, sending kids to summer camp and Jamboree, one kid working as a counselor at summer camp and getting evacuated due to a fire - while we were on said house hunting trip, purchasing a new house, losing a very, very, very family member way tooooooo soon - my husband's Auntie, and MOVING. Yep. MOVING. Into a fixer-upper.<br />
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All I can say about that is that it seemed like a good idea at the time.<br />
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Now, 3.5 weeks later, we're suffering from painter's elbow and have probably experienced brain damage from being exposed to paint fumes. Right now, however, I'm being exposed to that "new laminate hardwood" smell, and it's pretty okay. It sure looks WAY better than what was there. Icky, ugly carpet. *Shuddering*. In our excavations of the floors, preparing for the new flooring, we found relics from the 1980s. Linoleum in that lovely mustard yellow that was so popular in the 1970s. A clip for a set of hot rollers. I also found shelf paper with the hearts. Remember that? Pink? Blue? Oh-so-cute, and it SCREAMS "Born in the '80s!" When we moved the wood stove and the platform it was sitting on, we found tri-brown plush carpeting. Yeah. Also from the 1980s. <br />
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So, we got up here in our new town of residence - up in the Sierra Foothills, just a couple hours now from our parents. Parents who are RUDELY (whispers) getting older. <br />
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To our surprise, school for our middle son started the Thursday after we arrived. Oops. Kids were off visiting grandparents, and had gone from my folks to The Spouse's mother just that Wednesday. We'd been told, you see, that Grandma K (The Spouse's Mother), hadn't had the boys visit LAST summer, and she was greatly aggrieved. The Spouse and I decided "What the hell? Kid can start school on Monday." Why? Because, there would be a Grandma K-led riot if we went and fetched the boys early. Grandma K had PLANS for those grandchildren. And baseball tickets for Saturday night. <br />
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Well. You can imagine, coming from a school of 4000 students to a school of 1000 +/- can be quite the culture shock. #2 Son has told new classmates his old school was that big, and that his class was the size of the entire population of this (new) school. Total disbelief on their part. During the first full week of school, there were such events like competitions to see who could load the most hay bales and chickens into the back of a pickup truck. Apparently, the school will have music on at lunchtime. Imagine my urban kid's surprise to find out that up here, folks listen to BOTH kinds of music - Country AND Western. He was absolutely dumbfounded when one particular song came on, and the entire school sang along. Frankly, I'd be dumbfounded too, because I've never met a school building that can sing worth a damn. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know he meant all the kids sang along. I've had a great time since then teasing him about what I call "the school anthem." "Do you know all the words yet? Do you sing along too?" What is the "school anthem," you ask?<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BKZqGJONH68" target="_blank">Red Solo Cup</a></div>
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"Red solo cup...I fill you up...Let's have a party...Let's have a party." </div>
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I dunno why, but the kid just rolls his eyes at me every time I twitted him about this. I have moved on, but every now and again, I'll ask the school anthem was on at lunch. </div>
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So, more fun...we were working on the house - painting, cleaning, painting, cleaning, and painting some more, and I'd headed for the car in order to do the first after-school pick up run when #2 Son texts: "We're being evacuated, due to the fire." </div>
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EXCUSE ME?</div>
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Not THIS again. </div>
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He'd been out at PE when the fire started. He, along with every other kid on campus with a cell phone, video taped the event when a tree near the football field caught fire and fell over to burn a corner of the field. He also, in his words, "hit the deck" when the plane flow over and dumped either slurry or water on the fire. Right in the middle of a congested rural area, the fire guys hit this fire hard and fast. </div>
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Mostly, I'm waiting to be settled again. We are surrounded by oaks and pines. We are not in a traditional neighborhood with sidewalks and neighbors all around. We have neighbors nearby, but not a mere 15-20 feet away. No tract home for us this time around. Slower paced town, which is a tremendous relief after So Cal. Those parents are close at hand. It's all good. I can't wait to sit out on the deck off my bedroom and write.</div>
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I shall leave you with one final thought for the day: </div>
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<span class="bqQuoteLink"><a href="http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/a/andrewbern499413.html" title="view quote"><strong><em>If you're successful and stressed out, you're succeeding in spite of your stress, not because of it.</em></strong></a></span></div>
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<span class="bqQuoteLink"></span><br /><span class="bodybold"><strong><em>~</em></strong><a href="http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/a/andrew_bernstein.html" title="view author"><strong><em>Andrew Bernstein</em></strong></a></span><strong><em>~</em></strong> </div>
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<br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Read more at </span><a href="http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/succeeding.html#128zgpV7gqsWmlXo.99" style="color: #003399;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/succeeding.html#128zgpV7gqsWmlXo.99</span></a><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-30377251910827010762013-06-18T16:07:00.000-07:002013-06-18T16:07:44.524-07:00That Jumble In My BrainSo loads of thoughts tumbling around in my head. I'm not sure there is any coherence to any of them. Here are a few examples. In no particular order. <br />
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<li>Hello? Congress? Okay. House? Please stop trying to pass laws that regulate what choices we women can make for ourselves. Unless you're going to start passing laws about Viagra, for example, and mandating intrusive physical exams before men can get that Magic Pill. Let's see less personally invasive bills and more on, say, JOBS. Just an idea. Thanks. Oh, I thought I'd just point this out: you can't claim to be the party of "small government," Republicans, then try to pass laws that require women essentially be raped with vaginal probes when one seeks an abortion. I'm sorry. That is SOOOOOOO not "small government." </li>
<li>Now then. Senate. All I can say is O.M.G. </li>
<li>If you don't approve of abortions, don't have one. Just because you don't approve doesn't give you the right to make such a personal decision for other people. </li>
<li>If you don't condone "gay marriage," don't get gay married, but stop trampling over the rights of others, then scream about your religious freedom. </li>
<li>My non-gay marriage is not at all threatened by the prospect of folks getting gay married. Mainly because there are only TWO people in my marriage - me an' Mr. Laura, an' that's ALL.</li>
<li>Oh, about your religious freedom. What would Jesus do, indeed. I believe the only folks he had a big issue with were the money changers in the Temple. If you're going to ask WWJD, why don't you DO what He'd do? I'm purty certain He'd be feeding the hungry, healing the sick, helping the poor. *Zips lips and shuts up so ya'll can carry on with your own conclusions. </li>
<li>My feet are cold. I should probably put socks on. Guess where the socks are? Yep. Upstairs. Guess where I'm not. Yep. Upstairs. Oh. Wait. There are CHILDREN upstairs. Pardon me, I must pause to holler for socks.</li>
<li>I'm making chicken noodle soup for dinner tonight. Because several of us are STILL battling The Cold From Hell. I guess I should put the cluck on to cook. </li>
<li>Huh. I am still sockless, even after hollering for socks. And there was just screaming from the children up there. Guess I'm doomed to have cold feet for a while. </li>
<li>Hah! Found a pair of slippers under the couch. What? Doesn't everybody keep an emergency pair of slippers under the couch for easy access in the event of cold feet? If you don't, you should. *Nodding. </li>
<li>I should be writing on the WIP, not writing on the blog. </li>
<li>I wrote last night, and I must say, I think I borrowed my friend Amy's Muse. Her Muse isn't named "Shameless" for nothing. Now several of my friends are telling me I can't say I'm innocent any more. I disagree. I am currently innocent of many things...things like brownies, chocolate chip cookies, and the desire to get up and make dinner. </li>
<li>My feet aren't as cold as they were. I bet that eases many minds.</li>
<li>Currently, it's a toss up: chocolate chip muffins or blueberry, to go with the cluck soup. </li>
<li>I love DVR. Mostly, I love fast-forwarding through the commercials. Heh.</li>
<li>Okay, Debby Boone, I don't need a lifestyle lift, thank you very much, and the implication that I can only feel good about myself if I get one to "turn back the hands of time" kinda irritates me. I've earned my wrinkles, my sags, my double chins, and my silver hair, and they are my badge of honor. Yeah, I'd like to lose weight (who wouldn't?), and yeah, I have precious metal in my hair, nothing as mundane as "gray." But to suggest the only way we women can feel good about ourselves involves some sort of surgical intervention? I don't like that message much. </li>
<li>Okay, gonna write tonight, and mebbe even this afternoon, while I'm making dinner. (By making, I mean the soup is simmering on the stove. Yep.)</li>
<li>One last jumble from my brain: Mares eat oats and does eat oats, and little lambs eat ivy...A kid'll eat ivy too, how 'bout you?</li>
<li>You're welcome for the earworm. </li>
<li>I don't suffer from insanity. Nope. I enjoy every freakin' minute of it! ;)</li>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-31612211321085836652013-06-03T06:59:00.000-07:002013-06-03T07:00:36.196-07:002003 Hardin Way<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<strong><em>2003 Hardin Way</em></strong><br />
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Situated in Atlanta, Georgia, it's an
address like no other. Whispered discreetly between co-workers, e-mailed between
friends, found online by the most frightened searcher, it isn't just a building
constructed of bricks and mortar.<br />
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It represents hope.<br />
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For women
traumatized by abuse, harassed by others, or merely looking for an escape, this
apartment building provides solace, sanctuary and safety for those in desperate
need. Living here, women find strength, courage and -- perhaps most importantly
-- the ability to love once again.<br />
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Hardin Way -- where hearts heal.</div>
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Available on <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/321983" target="_blank">Smashwords</a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/2003-Hardin-Way-ebook/dp/B00D5GWB9O/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1370266161&sr=8-1&keywords=2003+hardin+way" target="_blank">Amazon</a></div>
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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *</div>
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Writing my novella, <strong><em>Starting Over</em></strong>, for <strong><em>2003 Hardin Way </em></strong>was a blast, as was working with Kris Starr, Nell Dixon and Kathi Robb Harris. Born out of a seedling of an idea that 2003 Hardin Way would be an apartment complex where women needing a safe place could go to recover and heal, it quickly grew into this beautiful anthology where women who'd been down on their luck, low on hope, found themselves again.<br />
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Now, it's up to each individual author, but I'm donating a portion of my share of the royalties to a women's shelter, and I believe Kris Starr is too. Here's your opportunity to not only get a great read, but to get a great read with a bit of built-in social consciousness. <br />
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And if you'd like to leave a review at Smashwords or Amazon, we'd like that too! <br />
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Happy reading!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-42635225950332503022013-04-29T09:27:00.001-07:002013-04-29T09:27:12.930-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4EqOeIxd-8_VDE2B-oILhyphenhyphenVgE7RU16tlHThcQBaudy1IgGzc328xd9UgLJpd1Cbxmm766Xkj2c1QBUso5exYKKmocdSpIEt9WeIF5blYwHxX8M2FLipCOqCgMJKazcmhdZWZ/s1600/MP900446429.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4EqOeIxd-8_VDE2B-oILhyphenhyphenVgE7RU16tlHThcQBaudy1IgGzc328xd9UgLJpd1Cbxmm766Xkj2c1QBUso5exYKKmocdSpIEt9WeIF5blYwHxX8M2FLipCOqCgMJKazcmhdZWZ/s320/MP900446429.JPG" width="320" /></a>True Love...Have you seen it? Have you experienced it? I hope most of us can say "yes" to at least one of those questions. I'm lucky enough to say "yes" to both.</div>
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I work as a caregiver for the elderly in their homes. I have a regular couple whom I see 3 times a week, 12 hours a day. As you can imagine, there are health issues for this lovely couple, which I will not go into because that's not the drift of this story. From here on out, this couple will be "He" and "She."<br />
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Yesterday, She took a couple hour nap. He asked me at regular intervals how She was, if She was going to get up, had I checked on her. When She finally came out, pure joy and pleasure beamed in his smile, twinkled in his eyes. <br />
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"There she is!" He reached out to grab her hand. "There she is."<br />
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"Here I am," said She. <br />
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And He went back to watching the game on TV, everything now right in his world.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-6216408757833084692013-04-16T17:23:00.003-07:002013-04-16T17:23:32.296-07:00It's a Crazy, Crazy World...It's a world gone mad, at least in my little corner of it, here in the States. Bombs at the Boston Marathon. Not too long ago, a madman armed to the teeth going on a killing spree in an elementary school. And before that, the nastiest election cycle I can recall. <br />
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Sadly, during the election season, I wound up blocking and unfriending someone I'd gone to school with. Not because I didn't want to hear his views, which were completely opposite of mine, but because the ONLY time I saw him on my Facebook page was when he came to, shall we say - stir the pot. He never liked or commented on any non-political status updates I posted. Never liked/commented the rare pictures of my kids that I posted or the frequent pet pictures I shared, never like/commented on any of the funny memes I'm fond of saying. No. He came to tell me I was wrong. It got tiring after a while. I began to feel like I was being stalked, and it got so I dreaded looking to see who'd commented on what. He's welcome to his opinion, he's welcome to express his opinion. He has a right to both, a right, like any American, I'll defend to my death. I also have the right to not subject myself to his opinion, but more importantly, the manner in which he chose to express it. Perhaps if he'd managed (and I'd asked him a couple times to tone it down, and very nicely, too) to show interest in other things I had going on, not just showing up to start a "very spirited political discussion," I wouldn't have felt it necessary to block and unfriend him. I didn't take the action I did because I felt the need to trample on his right to freedom of speech, or because he disagreed with me. I did it because I felt attacked. I've several LOVELY conversations with people who have differing views, too. I welcome those discussions. Life is stressful enough offline. I don't need it online, too. <br />
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Phew. There. I've had that on my mind for a long time. <br />
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Onwards...we'll fast forward to current events. It warmed my heart to see how we Americans react in a tragedy, surging forward to help the injured without a thought (or much of one) of their own safety. It also hurt my heart that we get to see this due to tragedy. It's a crazy world, and it just seems to be getting crazier. I hope for the day that we are able to forget how we identify politically, sexually, geographically, religiously, colorfully and remember that we we are all part of ONE race: the Human Race. Until then, I'm sending prayers up on wings to Boston.<br />
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So lately...what have I been doing lately? Arguing with the Muse about two WIPS I'd wanted to finish and publish in February and March. Innit that special? We're still discussing these stories, but I'm determined to get them both done. Also helping to the stymi-ing is a firecely busy family life and a new job for me, outside the house. Being tired almost constantly doesn't help the creative writing juices.<br />
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However, I'm not creatively bereft. I've been having fun with a dollhouse I found for an excellent price at a local antique store. SOOOOO much fun. Here's a couple of pictures. <br />
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Attic: Sewing/Laundry Room</div>
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And, last, but not least, a bit of a teaser from the reissue of my Blue Plate Special: Pops' Girls novella, in anthology form with Shara Jones' novella. Enjoy!</div>
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From <strong><em>Janie</em></strong>...</div>
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<span lang="EN"><em>And remember, with growing season just beginning, Sissy Peters reminds everyone to plant lots of vegetables... ~~From the Glen Meadow Bugle.</em><br />
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Chapter One</div>
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“Mayor Stringham, if you’d eat more vegetables, you’d be more regular.” The elderly woman’s voice carried over the muted conversations of the other diners.</div>
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Janie Lowell almost dumped the plate piled high with biscuits and gravy into her customer’s lap when she overheard the suggestion caroled out much like one would discuss the weather.</div>
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“Sissy! Honestly. What a thing to say to our fine mayor.”</div>
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“It’s true!” The woman crowed. “Look at his expression. I’m telling you, he needs more roughage in his diet.”</div>
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“Never mind them,” the man told Janie. He winked. “Sissy Peters is always worried that everyone in town is constipated. You should hear them at Flannagan’s Market.”</div>
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Janie blinked. Even after living here for a couple of months, the open friendliness of Glen Meadow astounded her. A tough couple of months, as she lived off the minuscule savings she’d accumulated over the past ten months before she’d gotten the waitressing job at <i>Pops’ Diner</i>.</div>
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A near miss run-in with her ex-fiancé had scared her enough to tread with utmost caution this time. She couldn’t afford to get too comfortable here, as she had in that tiny town in southern Indiana. However, the need to eat and pay rent had forced her into the daylight once again. She promised herself to be more cautious this time around. Loneliness wasn’t an excuse for letting her guard down.</div>
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Janie mustered a smile, mindful of Momma’s admonishment that <i>no one likes a sourpuss</i>. Grateful to Momma and Pops for hiring her, Janie wanted to live up to their standards, even if it killed her.</div>
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So many habits to unlearn. She didn’t <i>want </i>to be memorable. No. She wanted to blend in and disappear. Talking to strangers made her nervous. The only comfort here was that the people she talked to <i>were </i>strangers. She didn’t expect to find anyone here that knew her.</div>
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“I’ll be right back with your eggs, sir.”</div>
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“He’s not a sir, young lady. He’s Myles. Myles Channing.”</div>
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And from <strong><em>Cindi</em></strong> by Shara Jones...</div>
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<span lang="EN">He eased inside the diner and let his eyes adjust from the bright morning light. He searched for Pops, but saw Cindi instead. She whispered to the red-haired waitress and her face lit up when she coaxed a smile from the tense girl. A small dimple showed in Cindi’s cheek with her pleasure.<br />
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"Janie! Your order's up!" Pops bellowed.</div>
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Steve, focused on Cindi’s face, saw her smile slip into a moue of surprise. He heard, rather than saw, a coffee carafe crash to the floor, seconds before a rain of breaking dinnerware followed. Only dimly aware of the other waitress, Steve’s entire being focused on Cindi. He vaulted from his place by the front door to extract the small blonde from harm’s way.</div>
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"I told you not to bellow at Janie, Pops!" Momma scolded, as she hurried from of her office. </div>
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"Clean up, aisle six!" </div>
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"Mickey Flanagan, you're not helping." </div>
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Steve heard Momma’s voice chastise one of the locals who now blocked his path to Cindi.</div>
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Through the crowd he spied her, already galvanized into action. Her dark-blonde ponytail bounced as she shooed the concerned diners back to their tables. He moved further away, and hoped no one noticed his impulsive lunge toward her in the chaos of the scene.</div>
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"She's by the door, Pops!"</div>
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He glanced over to see the red-haired waitress, a stricken look on her face, straighten in what looked to be resolution as Pops approached her, wiping his hands on his apron.</div>
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"Are you hurt, hon?"</div>
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Steve found a seat across the diner. He wanted to keep Cindi within sight while he watched Pops and Momma hover over the shocked and injured waitress.</div>
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"That will need stitches." Pops examined the girl’s arm, careful to be gentle with both her and her injury. "It was an accident, Janie. Momma will take you to the clinic."</div>
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Cindi bustled from behind the counter and handed a purse to Momma as she escorted her wounded chick from the restaurant.</div>
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“Make your self useful, Big Earl,” Cindi commanded. She shoved a broom and dustpan towards a hulking bear of a man. The plaid shirted giant levered himself from his chair and fisted the broom handle in one paw, as meek as a mouse to follow the little dynamo’s orders.</div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Girls-Anthology-Plate-Special-ebook/dp/B00B058ZWE/ref=la_B00AGS6MBM_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1366146274&sr=1-6" target="_blank"><strong>Pops' Girls...And Anthology Available on Kindle</strong></a><strong> and in other e-formats on </strong><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/273749" target="_blank"><strong>Smashwords</strong></a><strong>.</strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><strong><em>You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you. </em></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><strong><em>~Ray Bradbury</em></strong></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-33273839380740648892013-03-11T09:45:00.001-07:002013-03-11T09:45:51.298-07:00Hello......my blog. <br />
<br />
Again, I am forced to ponder where the time goes in between my blog postings. Ack..<br />
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I popped in on my <a href="http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00AGS6MBM" target="_blank">author page at Amazon</a>, and found this <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cupid-on-a-Mission-ebook/product-reviews/B00B56HFR4/ref=dp_top_cm_cr_acr_txt?ie=UTF8&showViewpoints=1" target="_blank">lovely review by Gail Bowen</a> on *Cupid on a Mission*: <br />
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A cute premise, Cupid on a mission to further love, and the author did a great job. Not just one couple, but two couples to bring together. One couple was easy, only a few bumps on the road, but the second couple seemed hopeless, yet Cupid persevered and won in the end. I would enjoy reading more Cupid stories from this author. </center>
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<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cupid-on-a-Mission-ebook/dp/B00B56HFR4/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top" target="_blank">*Cupid* on Kindle</a><br />
<a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/278197" target="_blank">*Cupid* on Smashwords</a><br />
<br />
I guess this is the elusive sign I was looking for to motivate the Muse to work on *Cupid on Another Mission.* Someone named Laura Hamby better hop to it! Right after she finishes the Eagle Court of Honor invites for her Oldest Son, which can only be done after she goes to Kmart for the appropriate non-showing tape, buys stamps while she's out, rearranges the huge comforter in the washing machine and washing it again because there was enough kitty fur on it to knit an entire zoo of kitties, and bathes. Oh yes, the bathing must happen before the going out in public part. Nobody outside the immediate family who lives with me should be subjected to Medusa Hair, Drooping Under-Eye Baggage and the I Just Arose From the Dead look I'm sporting. Oh, and must put together Mom's and MIL's birthday prezzies...Santa, I could STILL use that clone!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9D8TWOb7RTEodcAPEYURh14CVLv6qmMWfjLNh3asPO8wGz11i_jBqCqZKpkGGw4daPbPR6PlEA6LZqxG2NfxnHOn8fBQPj5EQVwptC61JeoDFs0r9HMkYe9vW3Ck5BMq1O_W4/s1600/Cupid+on+a+Mission.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9D8TWOb7RTEodcAPEYURh14CVLv6qmMWfjLNh3asPO8wGz11i_jBqCqZKpkGGw4daPbPR6PlEA6LZqxG2NfxnHOn8fBQPj5EQVwptC61JeoDFs0r9HMkYe9vW3Ck5BMq1O_W4/s320/Cupid+on+a+Mission.jpg" width="247" /></a></div>
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And a timely reminder before I hop to it!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Ej6Mx0GaOoe9Govtms_d0oZbvu0ES14r3NRKs44dGVw27f6sfvP2AQRTdkSlTPMY2gKZERib7Y3JwvLX_oL3lpsqShSbscIyB4OO6U9ckOGXiwEQlJFBDEKatPwpMhUJ2qDd/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Ej6Mx0GaOoe9Govtms_d0oZbvu0ES14r3NRKs44dGVw27f6sfvP2AQRTdkSlTPMY2gKZERib7Y3JwvLX_oL3lpsqShSbscIyB4OO6U9ckOGXiwEQlJFBDEKatPwpMhUJ2qDd/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-28630685529326199362013-01-23T21:41:00.002-08:002013-01-23T21:41:58.822-08:00Cupid on a Mission......Available again!<br />
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<a href="https://dwtr67e3ikfml.cloudfront.net/bookCovers/38b73fb5d038d759c7d4a813e21f2e5af2232f6b" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://dwtr67e3ikfml.cloudfront.net/bookCovers/38b73fb5d038d759c7d4a813e21f2e5af2232f6b" width="247" /></a></div>
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<span itemprop="description">Cupid is tested by his assignment to reunite lovers with a rocky past, Nathaniel Phillips & Gail Harmon, thanks to a Cupid Council jealous of his success rate, & more than a wee bit annoyed by his arrogance. As a perk, the Cupid Council allows Cupid the opportunity to choose a couple to work his magic upon just for the fun of it - Rick Hartley & Coralie Elgin. Fall in love with Cupid on a Mission.</span></div>
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<br />Cupid's on a mission to Chadwick, Kansas, to reunite a couple separated by their past. Cupid, being Cupid, can't resist, and when another unlikely pair come into Cupid's sights, the god of love winds up with more than he bargained. Are there enough M&Ms in the world to satisfy Cupid's love of the candy while he completes his mission to help Nathaniel and Gail overcome the hurts of the past and rediscover their love is still there? Are Cupid's arrows potent enough to encourage Rick to give love a chance with his neighbor, Coralie? </div>
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Currently available on <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/278197" target="_blank">Smashwords</a></div>
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Coming soon to Amazon! </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-46412506821697199182013-01-21T15:48:00.001-08:002013-01-21T15:48:55.376-08:00Love SongsOkay, I have a You Tube music video addiction. Yep. I do. I'll admit it. Out loud, even. So today, while making a pharaoh headdress for my youngest son to wear to school tomorrow for his class's Dress Like an Egyptian Day, I had my laptop up and music videos playing. I just start with a song...in this case we started, naturally, given the afternoon's project, with Steve Martin and King Tut. Somehow from there, I got to Meatloaf's epic love ballad, "I'd Do Anything For Love, But I Won't Do That."<br />
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And of course, I started to wonder what "that" he wouldn't do. I have come up with several likely possibilities for what "that" actually means. Here are my top 10.<br />
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1. Put the toilet seat down when he's done.<br />
2. Clean the kitchen sink after doing the dishes.<br />
3. Do the dishes.<br />
4. Go to parent-teacher conferences for his child.<br />
5. Pick up his damp towel off the bathroom floor.<br />
6. Fetch his own beer.<br />
7. Put his dirty sox and undies in the laundry hamper.<br />
8. Squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom of the tube, instead of the middle.<br />
9. Drink his orange juice from a glass, rather than directly from the carton.<br />
10. Wear a French maid costume, ankle-killer high heeled shoes and a pink feather boa when introduced to her parents.<br />
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Any ideas of your own? I'd love to hear 'em. Feel free to comment. <br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9GNhdQRbXhc" target="_blank">MEATLOAF ON YOU TUBE</a>.<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-66045564236882565302013-01-17T09:20:00.000-08:002013-01-17T09:20:38.450-08:00The World of Pops' Girls: Blue Plate SpecialSeveral years ago, about 7, I think, <a href="http://sharajones.webs.com/" target="_blank">Sherry (Shara) Jones</a>, said the words, "Continuity series" to me, and that was the jump off point for creating Momma, Pops, the dinner, Sissy Hobart, Sissy Peters, the diner and the town of Glen Meadow. We drew <a href="http://www.megallisonauthor.com/" target="_blank">Meg Allison </a>in, and off we went. <br />
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And what a world we created! Working in tandem to keep our timelines straight and weaving our stories together, yet writing them to stand alone, too, was quite an experience. It is my favorite writing experience by far. <br />
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<strong><em>Janie</em></strong> (formerly *Learning to Trust*) received excellent reviews all those many years ago, and you can read them <a href="http://blueplatespecial.webs.com/learningtotrust.htm" target="_blank">HERE</a>. <br />
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<strong><em>Cindi</em></strong> (Formerly *Lessons in Love*) also received excellent reviews.<a href="http://blueplatespecial.webs.com/lessonsinlove.htm" target="_blank"> HERE</a>.<br />
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<strong><em>Second Chances</em></strong> (Formerly *Learning to Live*), by Meg Allison...yep, you guessed it. Excellent reviews. <a href="http://blueplatespecial.webs.com/learningtolive.htm" target="_blank">HERE</a>. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Second-Chances-ebook/dp/B005S0FOWG/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1358442223&sr=1-1-catcorr&keywords=Second+Chances+by+Meg+Allison" target="_blank">PURCHASE</a>.<br />
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<strong><em>Janie</em></strong> and <strong><em>Cindi </em></strong>can be found in the newly released <strong><em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B058ZWE" target="_blank">Pops' Girls: An Anthology</a></em></strong>. Sherry/Shara and I are thrilled that these stories are available again. We hope you enjoy reading these tales as much as we enjoyed writing them. <br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-52326531883054150792013-01-14T10:23:00.000-08:002013-01-14T10:23:23.088-08:00You Might Be a Writer......<br />
If you study people, and when you see someone interesting, think, "Hey! She'd be a great character!"<br />
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You text yourself a great line that occurred to you while you were out running errands.<br />
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Watch a television show and think to yourself that you could've written it better.<br />
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Mentally rewrite sentences in a book you are reading, to make it - to your mind - read better.<br />
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You always have a story going on in your head. You may not necessarily be writing it, but there's one always going. <br />
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You have "everyday" pajamas and "formal" pajamas to wear while writing. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-90470154858590536182013-01-12T10:31:00.002-08:002013-01-12T10:32:35.828-08:00Return to Glen Meadow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://dwtr67e3ikfml.cloudfront.net/bookCovers/2734535177b0012a10882645e7ab420a8efe3dda" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://dwtr67e3ikfml.cloudfront.net/bookCovers/2734535177b0012a10882645e7ab420a8efe3dda" width="213" /></a></div>
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Welcome to Glen Meadow, where the neighbors know everything
about you from your love life to your vegetable eating habits. Fall in love with
this close-knit town where love blossoms and the peach cobbler is served warm.
Follow Janie and Myles, and Cindi and Steve as they fall in love.<br />
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Janie
by Laura Hamby...Janie Lowell is a woman on the run from a violent past. Fear
kept her on the move, but her move to Glen Meadow gives her that elusive
something she's been looking for, without really realizing that she wasn't
running away from something, but rather she was running to love and safety...And
a special someone - Myles Channing. <br />
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Cindi by Shara Jones...Providing
math and baseball instructions to Ryan keeps Steve Richland in sexy Cindi's
playing field, but will it keep him from leaving Glen Meadow and surrendering
his freedom for fatherhood? Struggling waitress, Cindi Petroneli will do
anything to help her brother--including reluctantly hiring, Steve Richland as
his tutor. Can she resist when her resolve is tested by the sexy-as-sin
professor and his lessons in love?</div>
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Available NOW on <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/273749" target="_blank">Smashwords</a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B058ZWE" target="_blank">Amazon</a>.</div>
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And, coming as soon as I can get it formatted and published, another Shara Jones/Laura Hamby Pops' Girls anthology, this one is our novellas, previously published with Meg Allison's contribution, in an anthology, WITH some fun extras like recipes and some historical flashback story pieces. </div>
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Fun Pops' Girls: Blue Plate Special Trivia </center>
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The town of Glen Meadow is named after one of our mother-in-law's streets. (We're going to be coy, and for privacy reasons, not say WHICH of the 3 Pops' Girls authors MIL, but it's still a fun fact.)</div>
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I, me, Laura, am the one who conned...er...got Shara and Meg involved. </div>
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None of us can believe it's been 7 years since we wrote this continuity series.</div>
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(Pardon me a moment, while I get over the "7 years" part...)</div>
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Okay. Deep breath.</div>
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Here's a link to Meg Allison's <em>Second Chances...</em>The 3rd novel in the Pops' Girls series, on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Second-Chances-ebook/dp/B005S0FOWG/ref=la_B002BLUD4E_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1358015131&sr=1-5" target="_blank">Amazon</a>. </div>
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Our three novels are intertwined, but they all stand alone as novels. You don't *have* to read all three, but my question is, why wouldn't you? Glen Meadow rocks.</div>
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Shhhhh...I have in my files, a half-finished Pops' Girls novel...and I'd like to finish it and publish it. That's not the secret part. The secret part is that I'm going to see if I can't con...er...gently persuade (Yeah! That's it!) Shara/Sherry, my BFFITWW to write another one, too, so we can do another Pops' Girls anthology. Mebbe I'll work on Meg, too. Hehe.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-88450266014700046732012-12-30T21:04:00.001-08:002012-12-30T21:04:30.271-08:00Happy 2013!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">May 2013 bring you peace, happiness, comfort, joy, friendship, love, light, hope, & wonder.</span></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-10144762032985500202012-12-20T13:26:00.000-08:002012-12-20T13:27:16.300-08:00Merry Christmas!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">First 2 images from Microsoft free images</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">3rd image from </span><a href="http://chopeh.deviantart.com/art/Merry-Christmas-142962178" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">HERE</span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Enjoy my 2 Christmas titles: <strong><em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Footprints-in-the-Snow-ebook/dp/B00AAQOK00/ref=la_B00AGS6MBM_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1356038510&sr=1-3" target="_blank">Footprints in the Snow</a></em></strong> and <strong><em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Romance-ebook/dp/B00AP8YR8I/ref=la_B00AGS6MBM_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1356038510&sr=1-4" target="_blank">Christmas Romance</a></em></strong> (Amazon).</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00AGS6MBM" target="_blank">My Amazon Author Page</a></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-76470381481781664702012-12-18T09:50:00.001-08:002012-12-18T09:55:02.136-08:00Heartbroken<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"> 12-14-12</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sandy Hook Elementary</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Newtown, Connecticut</span></div>
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I'm heartbroken, like the rest of the nation and world, by the tragedy that occurred at a little elementary school in Connecticut last Friday. I can't stop reading the news articles, all the accounts of what happened, the funerals that are occurring, the biographical articles on the victims, articles on the first responders and other heroes. I grieve with and for the parents who are doing the unthinkable, the unimaginable - burying a very young child. My heart is heavy with sympathy. I can't imagine the depth and the scope of the sorrow and pain, but on the other, I can't help but put myself in their shoes. I have children. Yes, they go to public schools. And one of my greatest fears is that one day, somebody will show up one of the schools my kids are in, and open up with an assault rifle. The tears I've cried over this are for the lost lives, and yes, relief that my children have all come home after school every day.</div>
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I've had discussions on Facebook about gun control, seen them, seen the memes, the comments of pundits, etc...and I have to say, I'm shocked and appalled at the disconnect I've seen. The comparisons made, the arguments made.</div>
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Let me state this very clearly and succinctly.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Your right to own a gun is NOT more important than a human life. </span></div>
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If (potential) gun owners have to jump through more hoops to gain a gun, then so be it. Arming MORE people isn't going to be the answer any more than just focusing on tightening gun regulations is. The ban on assault rifles needs to be renewed. It expired in 2004. Requiring psychological testing, stricter licensing requirements, limits on how many guns a person can own is a responsible first step. Not unreasonable at all. We require people to have drivers licenses, and have over the years, refined our laws to make driving safer. Sure, cars are still going to be in accidents, but there are fewer deaths because seatbelts are required. You think you can go and buy as much fertilizer as you want without someone coming to knock on your door to find out why you need 11ty gazillion tons fertilizers. Thank Timothy McVeigh for that. It's disingenuous to say that we have all these laws in place, and THEY haven't stopped the carnage, so what good would putting more laws in place do? Try googling Australia and their gun laws and statistics. That'll will show you what good it will do.</div>
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Nothing is going to totally stop it, but don't we have an obligation as a civilized society to do what we can to slow the death and destruction? </div>
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I've seen a meme that said something along the lines of "if your first thought was about gun control, then..." I don't remember the rest, it made me too angry.</div>
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The same folks who post stuff like that are also posting pro-life/anti-abortion stuff, as well.</div>
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Am I the only one who sees the disconnect there?</div>
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Really?</div>
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How can you call yourself pro-life when your first thought after the Sandy Hook tragedy was, "Oh, man. Now they're going to want to regulate my guns more stringently"???????? </div>
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If your right to own guns, a preoccupation with how more regulations are going to be levied on gun owners, and the belief that in a situation similar to what's happened in Aurora, CO and Newtown, CT you'd become some sort of super hero with your righteous gun blazing to save the day -- are the first thoughts that come to you when you think about this tragedy, then honey, I'm here to tell you that you have your priorities WRONG. </div>
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Empathy/sympathy for the victims/families affected, horror, grief, rinse and repeat. That and if you went to a football game, as I did on Saturday, and spent a good deal of time looking for a place in the bleachers where you could shield your children should a lunatic with a gun burst onto the field, you might have your priorities in order. If you worry every day that this might be the day someone shoots up your kids' school(s), you might have your priorities in order. If you think that fixing our broken mental healthcare here in the United States must go hand-in-hand with doing something to ensure that we never endure another Sandy Hook, you might have your priorities in order. If you have hugged your kids, told them you love them every day since Friday, multiple times a day, you might have your priorities in order. </div>
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If all you can think about is how "everyone is after right to bear arms," your priorities are whacked. </div>
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Pure and simple. </div>
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My thoughts and prayers are with the families in Newtowne who are burying their loved ones during this holiday season. I hope that somehow, some way, they'll find some peace to carry on without their missing loved ones. I hope that they will find a healing that will allow their brokenhearts to not feel so heavy. I hope they know an entire nation, an entire world, grieves with them. </div>
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JxPj3GAYYZ0" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Tears in Heaven</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yRhq-yO1KN8" target="_blank">Imagine</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Just Imagine what we could do if we could get our priorities right enough to do something so we could avoid more Tears in Heaven. Imagine.</span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-86021044808174041722012-12-13T08:36:00.002-08:002012-12-13T08:36:38.152-08:00Rainy Day ImageryWhat could be more evocative than a rainy day? The sound of the rain hitting the roof or pinging against the pavement. The fresh, crisp scent of the rain in the rain-washed air. The sight of heavy dark clouds overhead, lights shining in the windows of neighborhood homes, or headlights cutting through the darkness and illuminating the rain slanting to the ground. The sensation of raindrops hitting the top of your head, or your skin - warm or cold depending on the season. Taste? Well, with all the pollution in the air, I wouldn't necessarily recommend tasting the rain. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OT1HCQcSHW0" target="_blank">Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head (BJ Thomas)</a></span></div>
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***Thinkin' about you today, Grandma. And missing you, especially as rainy days always make me think of *Our Song.* ***</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-23433511634850665712012-12-12T19:46:00.000-08:002012-12-12T19:46:49.480-08:00Redecorating......I don't know why, but suddenly, the urge to redecorate my blog came upon me. I must say, I am more than a little enchanted with the template I chose. It reminds me of reading a book before a large picture window. <br />
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I have been updating my profile on Goodreads, checking in at Manic Readers, joining groups for authors on Facebook. I've been to Michaels and Jo-Ann's today, the grocery store, and went to my husband's office Christmas Party/Going Away Luncheon for someone at Olive Garden. (I won a prize on the raffle. Yay!) I have been doing everything today but write. <br />
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Now that all the kids have their homework done, dinner's over, and it's almost bedtime for the rest of the family, I am going to open my WIP and stare it into submission.<br />
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Happy Wednesday-Almost-Thursday. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-28964909633012900422012-12-11T16:40:00.004-08:002012-12-11T16:40:47.091-08:00A Break...To play with Paint. I've done some Christmas gift crafting today, plan on doing some writing tonight. That's the excitement of my day. Enjoy the Christmas memes. :)<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Footprints-in-the-Snow-ebook/dp/B00AAQOK00/ref=la_B00AGS6MBM_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1355272651&sr=1-2" target="_blank">At Amazon</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/253512" target="_blank">At Smashwords</a></div>
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<strong><em>Footprints in the Snow</em></strong>...A heartwarming collection of three historical romance Christmas novellas. In <strong><em>Unexpected Christmas Gift</em></strong>, Rita Andrews awaits Vincent Lewis’s return from serving in the Pacific during the long years of World War II.<strong><em> The Greatest Gift of All</em></strong> brings Jeptha, ‘Jep,’ Cullen and Abigail Hardwick together in a rough mining town in the territory of Colorado at Christmastime 1865. Both have left their lives behind and now unexpectedly find themselves facing their hard existence together. Hannah Kelsey, now orphaned by the War Between the States, waits patiently for news of her lone, surviving brother. A life that has been anything but easy is made more complicated by the Yankee soldier she finds lying in front of her cabin a few days before Christmas, 1864. Together, Hannah and her soldier, Jeff Steffend, each find a little bit of <strong><em>Christmas Grace</em></strong>. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-32538993128873912732012-12-10T07:13:00.001-08:002012-12-10T07:13:10.335-08:00Contest Winners...Whelp...<br />
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I decided I needed to change up the contest a little...folks got the "like" part down, but the leaving a comment, well. I understand that can be tricky. Sooooo....<br />
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If the following folks will either email me or PM me on Facebook, I have a handy-dandy coupon code that will allow them to download a FREE copy of either <strong><em>The Marriage Charade</em></strong> or<strong><em> Footprints in the Snow</em></strong> at Smashwords. (Because Smashwords is where I figured out how to make a coupon.)...If ya don't have a Smashwords account, you'll get to sign up for one, but it's completely free and easy to do. <br />
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Thanks for participating! Hope you enjoy the novels.<br />
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Winners of <strong><em>The Marriage Charade</em></strong>: Robin Bayne, Tracy Bartlett and Dawn Prochilo.<br />
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Winners of <strong><em>Footprints in the Snow</em></strong>: Marion Laird and Donica Covey.<br />
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PM me for your coupon code. :) Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-30997390402247486282012-12-08T12:45:00.000-08:002012-12-08T12:47:09.542-08:00Life...It Be Crazy!So, the world tilted on its ear when I decided to self-publish. In a good kind of way. I'm busy, busy, busy, which is fine, but don't drop by my house unannounced, I won't let you inside. LOL. We aren't up to "Company Standard." <br />
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Okay, so here's what's going on...<br />
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Still running the contest (see Friday's blog post.)<br />
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I'm working on a new website, <a href="http://bookloverbooks.webs.com/" target="_blank">Books! Books! Books!</a> where I'm currently offering FREE promo ops for authors. <br />
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<strong><em>The Marriage Charade</em></strong> is live on <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/263007" target="_blank">Smashwords</a> AND <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Marriage-Charade-ebook/dp/B00AKMH7F4/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1354994989&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Marriage+Charade" target="_blank">Amazon</a>. With this, I now have 3 novels available, and boy, does it feel good to be "out there" again.<br />
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I have several projects in the works - plans to republish, anthology style with Sherry, our Pops' Girls novels and novellas come January, going to republish <strong><em>Cupid on a Mission</em></strong> in February, along with an anthology with Sherry - 2 new novellas featuring Cupid from <strong><em>Cupid on a Mission</em></strong>. The anthology will be called <strong><em>Cupid on Another Mission</em></strong>. AND, I have a couple other new novels in the works.<br />
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Santa, please send me a clone for Christmas. <br />
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I've also applied for a job, and am waiting to hear about an interview. Fingers crossed. <br />
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Busy = Happy, and it's a great feeling. <br />
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Here's a great quote from Judy Garland, perfect for writers of romance. Great notion for the heroes and heroines we write.<br />
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And last, but not least, a great reminder to all my writer friends. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-10067701103168392562012-12-07T06:42:00.000-08:002012-12-07T06:42:00.186-08:00Release and Contest Day<center>
<span style="font-size: large;">Links to my New Release, <strong><em>The Marriage Charade</em></strong>, will be added as soon as it's live. In the meantime, let's get the contest underway!</span> </center>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>CONTEST CONTEST CONTEST!!!</strong></span> </center>
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1. If you haven't liked my author page on Facebook yet, click <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Laura-Hamby-Author/174061502735794" target="_blank">HERE</a> to go like said page. <br />
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2. Once you've liked my page (or if you liked it before today), leave a comment on my Facebook author page that includes the phrase <strong>Contest Contest Contest!!!</strong>, <strong><em>AND,</em></strong> one of the following: <br />
A. Names of one of the hero/heroine pairs in <strong><em>Footprints in the Snow</em></strong><br />
B. A one-word description of what you think if Marianne's mother in <strong><em>It's All Greek to Me</em></strong><br />
C. A sentence you liked in Thursday's excerpt of <strong><em>The Marriage Charade</em></strong>.<br />
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Yep. In order to enter the contest, you have to do a little bit of work. Shouldn't hurt, all the answers are here on my blog in this week's posts, and you get to pick which one of the 3 you'd like to answer. <strong>So, just so there's no confusion: Like my FB author page if you haven't already; leave a comment there with the phrase "Contest Contest Contest!!!"; and the answer to one of the 3 choices listed above.</strong> <br />
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Everyone will have a shot at winning one of two e-books (<strong><em>The Marriage Charade</em></strong> and<strong><em> Footprints in the Snow</em></strong>), and one of three hand-decorated ornaments. Winners will be literally picked out of a hat. (Okay, your name which will be written on a piece of paper will be, not you personally.) Prizes pictured below.<br />
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<strong>Winners will be announced both on my Facebook author page and here on my blog on MONDAY (12-10-12). Good luck! And thank you for liking my Facebook author page and for entering the contest. </strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<strong>P.S. I'm uploading *The Marriage Charade* later today, and will post a link on my FB author page when it's live and available. Thank you!</strong>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-85858253859204788492012-12-06T16:52:00.000-08:002012-12-06T16:52:06.997-08:00Release and Contest!I'm excited to be releasing a brand new, never published before novel tomorrow, Friday, <strong><em>The Marriage Charade</em></strong>. To celebrate, I'm holding a release day contest, and there are 5 prizes! The main prize is an e-copy of <strong><em>The Marriage Charade</em></strong>, the next prize is an e-copy of <strong><em>Footprints in the Snow</em></strong>. Then I have 3 hand-decorated papermache Christmas ornaments (I'll post pictures tomorrow, they're still in the process of being decorated!). <br />
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Tune in tomorrow to find out how to enter to win of these fun prizes!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-25525754770811563702012-12-06T06:00:00.000-08:002012-12-06T06:00:00.161-08:00Thursday's Teaser<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><em>The Marriage Charade</em></strong></span></div>
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<strong>Releasing Friday, December 7th on Smashwords and Amazon Kindle</strong></div>
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Chapter One<strong></strong><br />
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Aurelia Landon credited her superior poker face ability, inherited from her stone cold bitch of a mother, for saving her from humiliation when she strode into her office Monday morning. Dressed to kill in a severely tailored black suit, paired with the most awesome Prada shoes ever created - black and olive green striped four inch heels, she’d come prepared for the battle she knew lay ahead of her. </div>
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Someone was trying to undermine her authority and position at <i>Captivated</i>. </div>
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Someone was in for a very big surprise.</div>
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Aurelia had worked damned hard to achieve her position as editor-in-chief of the most prestigious fashion magazine in New York City. She had no intention of letting some asshole waltz in on a breeze and take it away from her.</div>
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“Good morning, Ms. Landon.”</div>
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“Good morning, Mrs. Wellington.” She pulled herself out of her thoughts long enough to aim a polite smile at the receptionist who so valiantly guarded the entrance. The older woman was a fixture in the reception area. No one now working for <i>Captivated</i> could remember anyone else guarding the gate. Mrs. Wellington was as much an institution at the magazine as the family who owned it, the Jennings family. Aurelia’s stunning, mouthy and fiercely executive assistant, Mabel Burke, also enjoyed a similar status.</div>
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“Busy morning,” the receptionist observed with a nod back towards Aurelia’s corner office. </div>
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On alert, Aurelia let her smile widen before she put on her poker face as she tried to remember if she’d missed something in her schedule. Mrs. Wellington didn’t need to know that her comments mystified her. She’d checked her calendar that morning as she’d done her half hour on the stationary bike, and there was nothing out of the ordinary for the day. An unusual occurrence, but one she welcomed. “Monday mornings always are.”</div>
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“Boy, you aren’t kidding,” Mrs. Wellington agreed as Aurelia continued on her way. </div>
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Too much activity for a Monday morning centered around Aurelia’s office. People scurried out of her way, however, once her presence was noted. The parting crowd revealed a view she could’ve done without—a tall, lanky man who sported a crop of auburn hair untamable by comb, smack dab in the middle of her office. She stopped in her tracks, felt her face freeze as she watched him from the safety of the hallway.</div>
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Logan Jennings. </div>
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CEO of <i>Captivated</i>. </div>
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Just what Aurelia didn’t need this morning. The only other unwelcome sight would’ve been any member of her family waiting for her. With her father obliterating her voice mail with messages and texts, she was half-surprised to not see him. They didn’t have anything that she would classify as a “father-daughter relationship." No, what she had with her father was adversarial and painful, and for that reason, she did her best to stay off his radar.</div>
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Logan stood, hands clasped behind him, with his back to the glass window that separated her office from the general, cubby-filled office space. He wore a hands-free device on his left ear, and as she opened the glass door to her office, she heard his low voice. She took a moment to take a steadying breath. Her reaction to this man confused her. Aurelia didn’t particularly like him, but that didn’t keep her from finding him sexily appealing. Something she’d never admit.</div>
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“...and reschedule all my afternoon meetings. Thank you, Kyle. ‘Lia, why don’t you close your blinds?”</div>
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She ground her teeth as she rounded her desk. “Aurelia, please, Mr. Jennings.” Her leather briefcase thumped against the floor when she dropped it. That got her his full attention. A half-amused smile quirked his lips, but the expression in his hazel eyes remained hard. Aurelia took a deep breath to steady herself. Again. He discombobulated her like no other man could, a very irritating trait among many. She closed her fingers over the small remote that operated the vertical blinds over the long interior window that served as wall between her and the rest of the office. One click, and instant privacy was theirs. She didn’t lower the blinds on her door. Too well she knew to do so would send the entire office without into a frenzy of speculation.</div>
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<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">The Marriage Charade</span></em></strong> will be released tomorrow, and to celebrate, I will be having a contest. Yes, a contest. With prizes. What prizes? Well, lessee...You're going to have to come back tomorrow in order to find out. (Hint: One of the prizes will be a free copy of <strong><em>The Marriage Charade</em></strong>.) (Another Hint: One or possibly two will be crafty, a la <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/CraftyOlBats?ref=si_shop" target="_blank">Crafty Ol' Bats</a>...Nothing that's actually listed for sale, but something of that nature. You'll hafta come back on Friday to find out.)</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-size: large;">Book lovers never go to bed alone.</span> </span></center>
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~Author Unknown</center>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Medicine for the soul.</span> </center>
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~Inscription over the door of the Library at Thebes</center>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Books are lighthouses erected in the great sea of time.</span> </center>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-28486892092924618382012-12-05T06:00:00.000-08:002012-12-05T06:00:10.475-08:00Wednesday's NuggetsMore excerpts, today from my reissue of <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/260995" target="_blank">It's All Greek to Me</a>. (<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Its-All-Greek-Me-ebook/dp/B00AGOIQ0Q/ref=la_B00AGS6MBM_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1354556226&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Amazon Kindle</a>.) And again, I'm going with an excerpt from chapter two. Why? Because I can. That's why. Happy reading. :)<br />
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It's All Greek to Me</center>
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<span lang="EN">Chapter Two</span>
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"No, it's not very funny. I lost my virginity in the backseat of a town car. Can't say as I'd recommend that experience."</div>
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Madge moved toward her, arms outstretched. "Why didn't you tell me? My poor baaaa-beeee." Tears coursed down her face. "Now I understand. You're afraid of sex. That's why you don't want to get married."</div>
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"No, I'm not afraid of sex. I just don't like it very much."</div>
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"You can't know that." Madge hugged her.</div>
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"I do know that. I had another lover," Marianne confessed.</div>
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Madge's eyes bulged, Marianne's revelation obviously rocked her mother's world. But Zeus flinging lightning bolts from Mount Olympus, Madge needed a fast forward into the twenty-first century. Marianne knew from long experience how old-fashioned her mother could be in her attitudes and beliefs. She figured that her mother had grown up in the 1950's, and had liked that decade so much, she got stuck. Just like a needle skipping on a vinyl record album.</div>
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"We'll talk about this later. We have company," Madge replied, her back stiff. Marianne’s meddling mama obviously didn't want to confront such a blatant contradiction to her beliefs. Burying her head in the sand was how the older woman always handled news she didn't want to hear. It wouldn’t surprise Marianne if her mother decided she’d been victimized in some manner.</div>
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“You should be careful, Marianne. Once you get a reputation for being easy, that’s all the boys will want from you.”</div>
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“I don’t date boys, Mom. That’s illegal.”</div>
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“You know what I mean. In my day, women guarded their virtue. Virginity is precious. Now you won’t be able to go to your husband untouched. Such a shame. I don’t care to discuss this any longer. What if someone wandered in and overheard us? I don’t think I could take the shame.”</div>
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Marianne nodded. Fine. She didn't care to discuss it either, especially since it had now become all about Madge Wilson. "I'll go back outside. How long until dinner?"</div>
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"Twenty minutes."</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="font-size: large;">A book is like a garden carried in the pocket.</span> </span></center>
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~Chinese Proverb</center>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33055207.post-28225433752305902062012-12-04T06:00:00.000-08:002012-12-04T06:00:02.685-08:00Tuesday's TidbitsHow about some excerpts? Today's excerpts are from <strong><em><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/253512" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Footprints in the Snow</span></a></em></strong>. (<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AAQOK00" target="_blank">Amazon Kindle</a>) And just to be different, I'm sharing excerpts from the novellas' Chapter Twos. I hope you enjoy them. :)<br />
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<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">Unexpected Christmas Gift</span></em></strong></center>
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Rita paced the width of her narrow room. Six steps, about face. Six steps, about face. One of the floorboards squeaked in protest every time she stepped on it, and she never missed. Back and forth until she made up her mind.</div>
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Her plain oak hope chest sat shoved up against the foot of her bed. She kept all the letters Vince sent in a sweetly scented box. As soon as she opened the hope chest, the violet aroma from the box greeted her. The scent strengthened when she opened the letter box. </div>
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As always, she took a few minutes to stare at his handwriting. She liked the way he made a loopy capital R to start her name. The rest of his penmanship was perfunctory, no frills. The only time he made a fancy R was when he wrote her name. Made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. She took out the first letter he’d sent and smoothed out the wrinkles. </div>
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As always, Rita read his words aloud, imagining them in Vince’s smooth baritone. </div>
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“Dear Rita, Arrived at Camp blanked out two days ago. Looks stark and cheerless. Greeted by our Sergeant, Sgt. Holmes, who informed us we were to call him ‘Sarge.’ We reckon he served with General Washington at Valley Forge. He’s promised to turn us ‘little girls’ into ‘real men.’ First thing we did was build our barracks. Sarge said it was a team-building exercise. He was right about the exercise part. I won’t scare you with the details of what the Army thinks is food, just suffice it to say your worries about not being a good cook are all for naught. I guarantee you could make a better cup of coffee than what is served here. And powdered eggs. Let me take a few moments to wax poetical about powdered eggs.”</div>
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Here Rita paused to take a deep breath. The naughty verse always made her laugh.</div>
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“A few of us composed a poem about the so-called eggs. It’s naughty, so read it with one eye closed. It’s also the worst piece of poetry you’ll ever read. </div>
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“The Army serves us powered eggs</div>
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A treat for which we'd never beg. </div>
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We’d toss over the plate</div>
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Straight into the lake</div>
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To dine with a chick with great legs!</div>
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“Sure wish I was there to see your cheeks turn pink when you read that. Sarge is hollering lights out. Missed you the moment I stepped on the bus. Don’t worry if my letters are few and far between, Rita-of-my-Heart. I’m already looking forward to your first letter. Address below. I’ll write as often as I can. Love, Vince.”</div>
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<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">The Greatest Gift of All</span></em></strong> </center>
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Ice coated the inside of the thin glass-paned window. Still. That hadn’t changed overnight, even with the wood stove stoked. Weak sunlight streamed into the room, creating a square patch of light on the dusty wooden floor. Abigail Phoebe stared at the light patch, loathe to leave the warm cocoon of the bed. Even as a child, she hadn’t had to share a bed, and waking up to feel Jep snugged up against her back discombobulated her. His hard thighs pressed against the backs of hers. If they’d been sitting up, rather than lying on their sides, she would’ve been sitting on his lap. Heartened, she gave herself a moment to bask in the sense of security waking up in a bed gave her. Who knew that a roof overhead and a bed to sleep in could evince such a feeling? Glorious.</div>
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“So warm,” she mumbled. She hadn’t been this warm since the end of summer, and she added that sensation to the list of others that had overwhelmed her since she‘d awakened. Making memories to carry with her when this interlude came to an end.</div>
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“Yes, it is. At least until we arise.” </div>
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“You’re awake.”</div>
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“With the sunrise. It occurred to me last night that you need a place to stay the winter. It’s not much, and it may be cold, but it keeps most of the weather off, and the bed’s large enough for the two of us."</div>
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Abigail Phoebe thought about the offer Jep had made, wondered about his motivations. She knew enough about life to know that men had base urges they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, control. Time to pull that rough and tough mantle she’d so carefully created around herself again. “If I do stay with you, and I’m not saying I am, you’ll keep your hands to yourself or I’ll chop ‘em off for you.”</div>
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“Will you now?” Jep sat on the edge of the bed, next to her, to pull on his boots. “Tough girl, are you? Why are you traveling by yourself, Girl?” </div>
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She bristled at being called ‘Girl,’ angry he’d insult her. Two could play that game. “I’m no girl, Major. I choose to travel alone because it suits me. I can take care of myself.”</div>
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“And I’m no Major. Colonel. You strike me as very young, Phoebe. Foolhardy for you to runaway from home. Figure you’re lucky to have made it this far without serious injury.” Jep finished with his laces and gave her a very pointed look. The notion one of his two younger sisters would run away from home made his heart clench with fear. Miss Phoebe looked to him to be younger than his sisters, Nancy and Mildred.</div>
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“Old enough to be a widow.” Why did she say that? Abigail Phoebe clamped her mouth shut so no more word would accidentally trip out over her tongue. She didn’t know Jeptha Cullen from Adam and Eve, and while she was grateful to him for the whiskey and shelter, it was best if she curb her tongue.</div>
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Jep closed his eyes momentarily, then sighed, “I’m sorry for your loss.”</div>
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Hannah took a deep breath to steady her nerves.</div>
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“That was close.”</div>
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“They woke you?” Hannah turned. Captain Steffend didn’t sound quite as weak as he had before.</div>
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“I’ve put you in danger.”</div>
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Hannah shrugged, spreading her hands out, palms up. </div>
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“I’ll leave tonight.”</div>
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“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hannah chided. “You need to rest and recuperate. Besides, I’m washing your uniform. It won’t be dry until tomorrow. Plus, your clothes need mending.”</div>
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“I heard the threat.”</div>
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“We know the war is going badly for the South, Captain. Of course emotions are running high. Men will say things they often don’t mean.”</div>
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“Miss Hannah, that boy meant what he said.”</div>
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Hannah grinned, delighted that this stranger had given Todd Marshall such an insult as to call him “boy.” Todd was a mere year older than she was, and was therefore twenty-three years old. Very familiar with the arrogant swagger Todd came home from the war with, she’d thought he looked more like a child aping his father’s walk, rather than the big man he thought he’d become.</div>
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That didn’t make him any the less dangerous to her, however. The sooner Josiah came home, the better off she’d be. She could take care of herself in most matters, but she knew her limits. And she knew her time was fast running out with putting off Todd’s marriage demands.</div>
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“That boy got himself shot through the hand at Chattanooga and came home, whining for his mother. I can out-draw him, and in a contest of accuracy, out-shoot him as well.”</div>
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The captain coughed. “I won’t be responsible for endangering you. I’m guilty of enough sins without adding this to the list.”</div>
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Hannah dragged a chair over to the bed and sat upon it. She adjusted her apron across her lap before she reached over and felt his brow for fever. His skin felt cool and dry to her touch. “How do you feel? You don’t have a fever, which is a good sign. But you still need to time to regain your strength. You are welcome to stay, Captain.”</div>
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His eyes drooped. Sleep waited to reclaim him, but he rallied long enough to ask, “Why would you risk your life to save mine?”</div>
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Hannah cleared her throat. The lump there refused to budge, so she did her best to speak around it. “I’m doing nothing for you that I haven’t hoped and prayed for, Captain, for my brother Josiah.”</div>
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“You’re a rare woman, Miss Hannah.” </div>
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