tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967857675019127712023-11-15T23:53:48.250-08:00Mary E. Palmerin~AuthorInternational bestselling author of the Monster Series. Lover of all things dark and taboo. Writer of the Scars and Sorrow Saga and half of the #darkduo. Lives by the mantra, carpe diem! Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-42712817873229247322015-07-20T18:12:00.000-07:002015-07-20T18:34:13.862-07:00Chapter 1~ The Goodbye Man by A. Giannoccaro and Mary E. Palmerin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
Readers,<br />
<br />
I present to you the first chapter in its entirety. I am also enclosing the disclaimer. Please read before proceeding. Asheligh and I are so excited about sharing this emotionally charged, controversial book. It took a lot of courage for us to write, but we are looking forward to rustling the feathers in the literary world with this novel.<br />
<br />
As always, thank you for your continued support, encouragement, and belief in both of us. Carpe fucking diem.<br />
<br />
Love,<br />
<br />
Mary <3<br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Readers, please note that this tale has graphic depiction of abuse
including but not limited to; rape, physical torture, emotional abuse, murder,
strong language, sexual degradation and humiliation, unconventional sexual
practices, and detailed descriptions of several mental disorders. With that
being said, we know that there are many dark books out there that have similar
content. However, this story is an emotional mind-fuck that will have you
questioning all your morals and your ideas of <i>normal</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If you are the least bit frightened, you should be. We understand as the
authors that we were taking a big chance when we decided to tell this story,
but every writer tells tales for different reasons. We write what we fear, for
thrill, and for things that we are not supposed to discuss. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This is not a romance. This tale is not about love. It is about goodbyes
and manipulation in many forms. So, if you feel like you can continue reading,
we hope that you enjoy this book. As always, thank you so much for your continued
support.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Love,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; text-indent: 0.5in;">Ashleigh and Mary</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
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<h2>
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="auto_bookmark_table_of_contents_1_11"><span lang="EN">Svetlana</span></a><span lang="EN"><o:p></o:p></span></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span lang="EN">She wore
pangs of despair like flowers in her hair.</span></i><span lang="EN"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN" style="text-transform: uppercase;">People always
talk </span><span lang="EN">of normal. What is normal anyway? I can’t say I
really believe in it. I have memories, dreams, and other recollections from my
early life, but they are bloody, bad things that would put most people’s
nightmares to shame. I often wonder if they are real or a mirroring image of
what I wish, because they are far from the <i>normal
</i>I live within now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">The last time I was loved was thirteen years
ago, the day my mother died. Now at seventeen, I still remember the distinct
way she smelled of stale alcohol and cigarette smoke. Her scabbed up track
marks along her bony arms used to scratch my naked back when she would give me
a rare hug. Her broken Russian was slurred and her hot breath on my tiny ear
sent shivers down to my little toes. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Looking back, that was the only kind of
love that I ever had. <i>“</i>Я<i> </i>тебя<i>
</i>люблю<i>, gypsy girl,” </i>my mother
would get the courage to murmur to me in broken Russian when no one was
listening and my father wasn’t watching her like a hawk eyeing its hungry prey.
<i>I love you, gypsy girl.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">But the love that she had for me only lasted
four years. The little things I remember from my mother both terrify and
delight me. I wish I wouldn’t remember. I wish I could turn into the same kind
of cold-hearted man that my father, Pavel, is. Glassy eyes, broken heads, and
bleeding hearts are what make up the last memories of my mother. Bloodstained,
matted curls on the dirty pavement made up the last kind of lullaby I was sung.
Since, Pavel makes sure to fleck off pieces of me day after day, siphoning my
soul into the depths of hell next to him. No matter how much he tries to get me
to be like him, I will never leave my little dysfunctional oasis.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I am not him. I am Svetlana, a lost lamb who
gets fed to the wolves every single day, night after night only to torn and
wounded and sometimes left for dead. Still, I overcome the abuse, the blood,
and the horrific acts that are done to me, only to hobble away while licking my
injuries. What for? I hope to one day understand what all this means. I exist
to be a punching bag. Others are created for love. Me, I was made for hate.
Until I understand what it all means, I can only survive. Surviving is all I
have been doing since I was born. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I am waiting for the day the lamb turns into a
fierce lion, but I fear my days are numbered. As time passes, my father gets
meaner and meaner. It was only a matter of time before I was thrown into the
fire of harshness to burn like my mother. I was twelve when I started hustling
the streets like my mother in the impoverished part of the city that I call
home in Hunts Point, Bronx. I never expected to still be alive today. I am
still trying to decide if that is a blessing or a curse. I am thinking the
latter of the two is the answer. A curse. Most days, I think that my father is
keeping me alive to punish me. I’m surprised he didn’t kill me the day he
removed my mother, Marta, from this world, kicking my little four-year-old
brain in and tossing me, like toxic fucking waste, into the metal grave like he
did my mother. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Every time Pavel’s eyes meet mine, I swear I
can feel a piece of myself dying inside. My heart stops moving and I can’t
breathe. He can gain control over me with one simple, terrifying look. One that
has remained the same since as long as I can remember. His eyes are as blue as
the bluest sky and his pale skin is almost translucent. His light blonde hair is
always a matted dirty mess. His large nose is crooked and he is always messing
with it when in a nervous withdrawal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">There is a wall so thick before his eyes; it
scares me to think what is behind them. To try to understand what kind of
things he holds back is petrifying. His stance is nothing short of
intimidating, as he stands at a good six-foot tall. His knuckles are always cut
up from his constant abuse. I am certain they wouldn’t know what healing would
feel like. His face shows the cruelness he has lived within for years since
being in the States, providing scabs from picking and excessive wrinkles from
the harsh elements in which he has lived. I don’t know much about my parents
and what their lives were like in Russia. Part of me hopes that they had happy
times before they were tainted by the ugly here, but something in my gut tells
me that a man like Pavel isn’t capable of being decent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I am different. Completely different than my
father and he makes me understand that by the utter hatred he has towards me. I
suppose I accept it because that is all I have known from Pavel. It is how he
treated my mother, and it’s how he is towards the other whores, though I am
usually the worst. I can recall Mother telling me that I was her gypsy princess
because my brown hair and chocolate eyes were those of her gypsy ancestors. I
thought that gypsies were from another part of the world, but what do I know. I
am just a street-hustling whore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Again, the love and memories that I hold onto
are grueling. Part of me wishes I could become the same kind of monster as my
father as I watch him beat, murder, rape, and torture countless women day after
day, but I can’t bring myself to be there yet. He is a pro at being a ruthless
criminal. It’s sad that the crimes he commits wouldn’t go unnoticed in other
parts of the world. He has worked his way up the chain of being a small time
pimp in one of the biggest prostitution hubs of the city, yet most of the money
he makes, he spends injecting into his collapsed veins as we sleep on top of
cardboard fucking boxes next to dumpsters in hopes of finding halves of cold
leftover burgers wrapped in sticky paper.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">That is why my job is so important. Cash flow
for Pavel needs to be steady. When he starts to come down from his high, rage
consumes him. Everything becomes my fault and hatred is all that he knows.
Sometimes, I can’t blame him, considering the shit we are surrounded by, but
the other half of me is angry at him for not loving me. I wish he would, but
that isn’t the way the world works.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">That is not who I was born to be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I must have been asleep as I am shaken awake
by the jolt of the train. I feel a pair of icy eyes on me and I know what this
means. The feeling that I get when my father looks at me like that means
business.<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN">Bad
business</span></i><span lang="EN">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">The screeching of the metal wheels on the
train track sends shocks of electricity through every cell of my body. I wish I
could stay nuzzled on the fiberglass seat of the subway, because at least it is
warm in here. I don’t have a coat on and it is getting colder with each passing
day. I hate when I know that winter is fast approaching. Long days seem longer
when you are working your ass off trying to get a truck driver from one of many
distribution places to fuck you because your father needs drug money.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">But he declines because your tits aren’t quite
big enough for his liking. Unfortunately for me, it has happened more than
once. On the awfully cold evenings, as much as I hate having sex with men I
don’t know, or anyone for that matter, there were many times I prayed for it
just so I could regain the feeling back in my toes and fingers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Like all things, it never lasted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Father’s stare sinks deeper inside of me. I
can feel him burying his claws deep inside of my heart. If emotions could be
acted out, he would surely be yanking me up painfully as he sat back and
watched, all the while mocking my pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">This is my <i>normal</i>.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I have no choice but to sit up and provide my
father the look he expects. His eyes send fright straight to my belly and I
have to remain stone-faced. This is all part of my life. The only kind of life
I have known. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">“Вставай, шлюха!” Pavel yells.<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN">Get up,
whore! One of his most used lines.</span></i><span lang="EN"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I stand up, listening to his demands. I
straighten my aged tank top, unaffected by what others think. I am surrounded
by fellow prostitutes, drug runners, and people who rely on the 6 train for a
warm night’s sleep. The twenty-something year old Hispanic man that is huddled
in the seat across from me is shaking back and forth, chanting out in Spanish
while pointing to different people on the train. He is definitely out of his
mind, but nothing short of what I see on a daily basis. I look over to his
right and see a girl younger than me clutching her swollen belly. Our eyes meet
and her stare makes me sad. Our looks understand one another without words and
I make myself turn away, knowing that her blue eyes were more sorrowful than I
could handle, let alone my own life. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen.
A swift kick to my lower leg knocks me out of my sad stupor. I look to Pavel
while he gives me a disapproving look, gritting his teeth together at me like a
famished dog hungry for meat. I shake my head yes, knowing that if I do not
provide some sort of response, he will hit me. Pavel doesn’t care if there are
people here are not. People don’t tell other people’s stories. Not when you are
stuck in your own dread, spending forever trying to find a way to trudge out of
a normal that is suffocating.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">“Money, Svetlana. You make me money tonight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">“Yes, Father,” I respond with my eyes down,
showing him respect that he doesn’t deserve. But I give it to him, because that
is what I was trained to do.<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN">Yes,
Father. Always the dutiful daughter.</span></i><span lang="EN"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">His broken Russian and awful English are all
that I have been around. Accompanied by the people that are constantly buzzing
around me, I learn words and take them in. I like words, but I don’t speak
often. If I had dreams, I would do something with words. But my destiny holds
something different. I possess the same kind of talents that my mother, Marta,
did. I am a whore. A stupid, stupid whore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I dismiss thoughts of my mother and look down
at my wrists. The discoloration of my skin is obvious as black and blue bruises
mark my olive skin. Memories of the fat truck driver who fucked me in his cab
overtake my thoughts. He was insistent on tying my hands above my head so that
I couldn’t touch him or bat away his abusive hands. I couldn’t say no. I had to
do whatever he wanted to make sure and please him to get paid or Father
wouldn’t get the drugs to keep him halfway happy. <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN">I am a
gypsy princess. </span></i><span lang="EN">My thoughts are a jumbled mess as I
stare at my olive colored wrists.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">The metal on metal causes jerking and I
stumble forward into my father. His body is as cold as a winter’s night and he
is as hard as a brick wall. Shudders of terror run through me, but I brush it
off because I have a job to do. A very important one that means getting Father
the money he needs to feed his drug habit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">“Watch where you go, whore.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">“Yes, Father.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I exit the train car 6 as we arrive at Hunts
Point Boulevard. An old, black man yells out in front of me, jingling a can and
pleading for change. I wish I could tell him I am no help and that I am just as
hungry as he is, but my father would beat me and him too, so I look away and
try not to care. The pregnant girl walks quickly past me; her disappearing body
into the shadows of the night leaves me uneasy. Something in my heart tells me
that her story won’t end well. I shake my thoughts free. I hate when I
overanalyze everyone around me; I wish empathy was a trait I didn’t possess. I
have a job to do. One that I have come to master since I was twelve-years-old.
I have to do what comes next. I push my mediocre breasts out and pucker my lips
as I try to shake my hips from side to side. My outfit is appalling, but pussy
is pussy. At least that is what my father tells me. <i>Pussy be pussy, Svetlana. Learn to like to fuck. Make your pussy get
wet. Men like your dirty cunt more. You learn, learn good, girl.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I feel a swift smack on my bottom and I bite
my lip hard. The copper taste of blood makes my stomach swirl and ache for a
decent meal. I momentarily allow myself to dream about a soup kitchen, their
watered down chicken broth and stale bread is like a heaven that I never get to
enough of. It has been nearly 48 hours since I have eaten something and my
skinny body is starting to feel a decline. But, death is always lingering. I
would feel empty without it. I don’t turn around because that is something that
my father would do to hurry me along.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Instead, I pick up my feet and move quickly up
the stairs as the air gets colder on my bare shoulders with each passing step.
A pair of strong hands wraps themselves around my waist and I forget to
breathe. I half expect snide comments from my father about my thin build and my
lack-of-curvy ass and hips, but his chants are absent. For the first time, I
wish for them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">A yank brings me backwards on the stairs as I
feel my right leg twist on the concrete while I am being dragged down back to
the hum of people that haunt my thoughts. The voice that I was craving to hear
seconds ago starts bellowing loudly in the background. Evil is so thick in the
air, it could crack like glass. Something in my gut is telling me not to look
up and see the man that has a hold of me, but I feel myself being magnetized by
an emotion I am not familiar with.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I turn my head as I am greeted by a
forty-something-year-old black man. His skin is sweaty and he’s huffing like
he’s been running from someone. Or maybe he was running for me. It doesn’t
matter because the cat has found the little mouse, and it’s ready to eat. He
offers me a smile, but I immediately know it is not one that is of comfort or
kindness. His yellow teeth and alcohol-breath make my mind erase the thoughts I
once had of food. Others around me continue to remain unaffected, because this
world is chaos and that kind of disorder is something they are all used to.
Junkies and fellow prostitutes go about their business as my father moves them
along with his laid back hand gestures as he talks out of his head in Russian.
So much is happening at once, I find it difficult to process. Am I the only one
to care inside of my skull? Do the people that stare and judge my torn and
tattered clothes want to save me? I want to scream, to fight back, to run, but
what good would that do? Only to be delivered to some juvenile detention center
and fed to a different set of wolves? This is who I was born to be. This is
what I was trained to do. I need to put the softness away and let myself
continue to do the one thing that I was destined to do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Survive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I relax into the man’s grasp while his lips
curl over his teeth further in a grateful smile. His grip around my waist
tightens as he pulls my small frame into him. His erection presses into my
belly and the only thing I hope for is a condom. My brain doesn’t function
normally as I prepare myself to be taken by a man that I do not want, but when
HIV is so prevalent, a condom is the only thing I care about right now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">“I paid ya Daddy good money for this pussy. Ya
better not disappoint, little girl.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Though enamored with words, I find myself
tongue tied now. No response would make this right as my father sits back and
watches while a man twenty-plus years older than me preps himself to fuck me. I
look over the large fellow’s shoulder and watch as trash dances from the wind
of the recently departed subway car, the heavy steps of people still going to
and fro. Dirty white, five-gallon buckets line the tunnel, making me remember
times when I couldn’t find a restroom and was forced to piss and shit in
plastic containers, hoping to dodge the train before it came. The throbbing in
my leg brings me back to my hellacious reality. Gulping hard as the man’s hands
leave me, I contemplate running, to where or to whom, I don’t know. I am only
certain of one thing. This is not going to end well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I part my lips for a brief moment, thinking
that I may have the right words to speak, but stop myself as a hard blow meets
my cheek. I fall to the cold dirty concrete, feeling it tear into both my palms
while I tried to brace my body from the fall. My long brown hair that my father
hates is tugged on violently as I am forced to look into the eyes of my abuser.
I hate this part, preparing to be taken by a man that I don’t wish for. You’d
think that after five years of being in these situations, I could travel far
away to a place where I could become detached. Too bad it doesn’t work that
way. Every part of my sensory system is magnified by a million. My vision, hearing,
taste, and lastly, feeling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I look to the man’s eyes; the stark whites
hold evidence of what my father craves as little hazes of red plant themselves
around. The grin from before is absent and is replaced with the man clenching
his jaw tightly. My mind wanders to a place as I try to disassociate myself
from this terrible situation while I think to what got him so angry. Then
again, Hunts Point is full of many vile assholes. Maybe I am the <i>abnormal</i> one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">“Is that pretty mouth of yours not gonna
answer me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">He pulls on my head further; I am surprised my
neck isn’t snapping in two. I move my lips to talk, but I am breathless. He
frees my hair and I crawl over to the tiled wall, bringing my knees up to my
body. I can feel my father watching. If I don’t give in and do what this man
wants, I will pay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">‘<i>Men
like girls, Svetlana, not women. Learn to like it, too. We make more money that
way if men know you real, I teach you to get wet pussy and be a good whore like
ya Mat’ </i>Pavel would say to me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I zap into the current and think back to that
statement. It is what will save me. If I don’t act like I want it, or enjoy it
for that matter, then Pavel could very well kill me. Fuck, why do I even bother
living anyway? Humans are creatures of selfishness; they don’t have the ability
to understand that sometimes dying would be better than living. It is the fear
that holds us back. All I do is trade one fear for another. Not sure what good
that does, but I am his girl and still I listen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">“Yes, sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I unfold my legs and stand, popping the button
to my torn and tattered jeans. Panties are a luxury and one that I don’t have.
I push my jeans down and pull my tank top up, exposing my bare breasts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">“Damn, girl. I am gonna tear that shit up.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I offer him a made up smile. If he only
realized how many times I have heard that line. I am taken day after day, time
after time, yet still my little heart continues to fight in this fucked up
world. I was created as my soul was doomed from the start. Perhaps God had made
a deal with the devil the day I was born. Freedom won’t find me. Even if it
does, I will always be stuck within the restraints of this. Things are the way
they are for a reason. They can’t always be explained. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">“You a whore and prolly ain’t got checked for
AIDS. I’m packing, don’t worry, fucking slut,” the large man says to me,
pulling out a shiny condom packet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I want to fall to my knees and thank God
above, but gratefulness is never what it seems. The fellow exposes his huge
erection and sheathes the condom over it. He closes his fist and I back up to
the cold wall, the aching from my leg soon to be the least of my worries. I
look to the steel beam, once again and focus on something else as my eyes trace
the letters of the <i>HP </i>in the
distance, reminding me of home sweet home. The shadow that I can never ignore
lurks in the background as his laughter returns wildly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">“Don’t take easy on girl. She likes it rough.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Pavel emerges from the trembling glowing
lights with his hands in his stained jean pockets. He is always looking, watching,
judging.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">“Good thing, sweetheart. I like a little blood
and gore to go with my whore.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">For a few seconds, I think I am going crazy as
I see the man before me transform into a beast. Maybe that is my dysfunctional
brain coping in its own fucked up way, but his lips curl over the top of his
discolored teeth again and they seem sharp enough to kill. His closed fist
meets my cheek and the familiar taste of blood enters my mouth. Pain starts
from my toes and works its way up to my head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I welcome it and swallow it as it temporarily
calms my grumbling belly and thoughts of food and water. I stumble but remain
on my feet. The hard as steel fist that punched me, meets my face once more and
my knees give out. I fall to the cold ground and wonder how many minutes the
man has before another train comes by to load people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">People. Yes, there are people around but they
don’t care. I am in the shadows at the end of the platform. They hear commotion
and may see it, but this is part of the chaos here. This is the <i>normal. </i>The man is putting on one hell
of a show and I am the act.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">“Scream, I will fucking kill you in front of
your father.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">Grumbling from his throat interrupts the
throbbing from my head as he spits on me. I understand his point; I am trash, a
no one, a whore basking in his soon-to-be gore. But, get it over with already.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">“Stand,” the monstrous man commands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I oblige, quickly standing so I don’t get
another punch to my already swelling face. My vision is turning double and my
head is pounding. I am doing everything in my power to get through this so that
Pavel gets his money. Then we can find an alley so I can sleep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">“You ain’t no virgin, girl. But I wanna play
like you are. Let’s play ‘Big Daddy pops little girl’s cherry'.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">I turn my head slightly to the side, unsure
what he means. He takes one hand and slams my body against the wall again,
gripping my neck tight enough for me to see stars, but not tight enough for me
to lose consciousness. His free hand grazes down my belly and to my sex. I
expect his fingers to enter me, but expecting is the biggest mistake when being
a whore. There are no rules, especially when you belong to someone else.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">“Blood and gore for my little whore.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">He shoves my knees apart and sticks four
fingers inside of me. I gasp out loud as a tear sears through me. I am dry, but
that doesn’t slow him down. The friction only causes him to grin more at me
while he shoves four fingers higher inside of me. Overwhelming discomfort rips
through me and I can’t remember ever being violated this badly. I pray for
death as he jabs his four fingers in and out, in and out, in and out over and
over again until my blood covers his hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">When he is satisfied with his damage to my
sex, he releases himself and I want to huddle into nothingness and cry. I can’t
remember the last time I wanted to sob like this, but right now I want to. This
man has cracked me open and now I understand that maybe I never want to be put
back together again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">“Ah, there ya go, girl. Seems Big Daddy could
pop that pussy cherry after all. Now, eat it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">My eyes grow wide while my mouth hangs open.
He sticks his blood covered fingers into my mouth while ramming his dick inside
of me. The distant screech of the subway car is welcoming, but even that
wouldn’t stop this man. I am surviving hell on earth. With each passing thrust
of his hips, I am swimming deeper and deeper into a place that I crave.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN">A goodbye.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: always;" /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><b><i>Releasing on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and iBooks on August 7th.</i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-24876725927576290492015-07-05T07:00:00.000-07:002015-07-05T07:04:45.110-07:00Dark Duo Update<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIbKRJAE3kGsiGvnz1H8bTAVaXIstDuaxv2PZuh8KUiW373KU_ktMZn_mvMRd-hIeXuYp-gYC4igLddSm10W6yE_Xd54I-jn77s7nk_6z52yc3p6sVMsDySwcFs9PETEgsUwwu6aqMvcdf/s1600/darkduo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIbKRJAE3kGsiGvnz1H8bTAVaXIstDuaxv2PZuh8KUiW373KU_ktMZn_mvMRd-hIeXuYp-gYC4igLddSm10W6yE_Xd54I-jn77s7nk_6z52yc3p6sVMsDySwcFs9PETEgsUwwu6aqMvcdf/s320/darkduo1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">The Goodbye Man (Red Market Book 1)</span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25554432-the-goodbye-man" style="background-color: black;">Add it on Goodreads</a></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;">Dysfunctional empires were made to fall.</span><br style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;" /><br style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;">I am Caesar. Broken and conflicted. I am a man who gives false goodness to those who crave it. I provide solace to the ones who beg to be saved, giving them the goodbyes they want. But, my quiet little world is about to be shattered by the whispers from heaven and hell.</span><br style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;" /><br style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;">I am Mateo. Unlovable and unworthy. I am the boy everyone runs from. I keep love close to me in little jars of perfection, reminding me of a thousand goodbyes I never had to say, because I left them before they could leave me.</span><br style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;" /><br style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;">I am Svetlana. Dirty and Used. Birthed into brutality while still trying to comprehend my version of normal. I am an injured lamb, eaten by filthy wolves day after day. Just as salvation seems like it's within reach, a goodbye from this awful world is all that I wish for.</span><br style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;" /><br style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;" /><br style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;" /><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.8000001907349px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;">**Graphic content warning including detailed depiction of brutal, bloody acts. Physical and emotional abuse is also apparent throughout this book with graphic sex scenes, both consensual and non-sensual. Reader discretion is highly advised. Not suitable for readers under the age of eighteen or those who are easily offended by the above mentioned acts.**</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGHJmCsJOt0" style="background-color: black;">Watch the book trailer here</a></span></span></div>
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Ashleigh and I share love for the darkness and writing stories in ways that our readers would never predict. We are fierce and stare fear in the face with this story. Writing with her was the easiest process. We completed this book in less than five weeks, and it is not a short story, around 100k words. It was incredible and I loved every second of it. This story is unique. It will scare you, offend you, and make you question everything you believe in. Ashleigh and I could not get everything into one book, so there will be another in the Red Market Series. We are extremely excited to share this dark, disturbing tale with you. If you have not read anything dark before, this novel is not for you. Even seasoned darkies will have difficulty with some parts of this book. It will be releasing on all platforms on August 7th. The official cover reveal is July 10th. Stay tuned for an amazing cover done by Kelsey Keeton with KKeeton Designs. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-33638162358493724562015-05-05T20:01:00.000-07:002015-05-05T20:01:08.427-07:00The Emancipation of Love Cover Reveal<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The Emancipation of Love</span></div>
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Genre: dark erotica</div>
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Release date: June 26, 2015</div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25065503-the-emancipation-of-love">Goodreads</a></div>
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<span id="freeText6011145884644720722"><i>I am a monster. A sexual deviant. A gorger for pain. I am Worthless William Welch.<br /><br />But I am hers…<br /><br />Ten years since Welch has seen Gwendolyn he finds himself in Portland, the same city they were supposed to live together; just two bloody lovers against the ghastly ways of the world. But that isn’t how their story would pan out and Welch troubles himself everyday with memoirs of the only one that will have his heart.<br /><br />His sweet, sweet girl. Fiery Gwendolyn is gone and he is alone with nothing to occupy him except memories.<br /><br />As he tries to grasp onto the recollections while simultaneously forgetting the pain he was bathed in for so long, he searches for a woman that will give him the agony he so desperately craves. You know what they say… be careful what you wish for.<br /><br />As Welch pushes an unlikely woman to the brink, he is surprised at her eagerness as she gives him what he longs for. Punishment, pain, and pleasure. He becomes enveloped by the demons of his past, the torment of his current, and the ghost in his mind that he refuses to part from.<br /><br />Reverted back to the dysfunctional little boy who obeys, Welch finds himself in a disastrous cycle while the edge of goodness is within reach. Will it be too late for him to find love before he breaks himself down to a point of no return?<br /><br />**Graphic content warning including sexual degradation, emotional abuse, adult situations, and unconventional sexual practices that are intended for mature audiences only. Not suitable for readers under the age of eighteen. Reader discretion is highly advised.***</i></span> <a data-text-id="6011145884644720722" href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25065503-the-emancipation-of-love#"></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-47062011586389670012015-01-08T00:00:00.000-08:002015-01-08T04:56:17.581-08:00Cover Reveal~ Gwendolyn vs. the Band of Barren Hearts<a a="" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=196785767501912771" http:=""></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Mary E. Palmerin</b></span></div>
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<b>Publication date: January 22, 2015</b></div>
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<b>Genre: dark erotic thriller</b></div>
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<i>Monsters</i>. They don’t hide in your nightmares. They steal you away from the good life and prevent you from living your dreams.<o:p></o:p></div>
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That’s where 17-year-old Gwendolyn Fitzpatrick found herself; surrounded by wicked fiends after everything she thought she had was gone in the blink of an eye. She was shuffled away with one bag of memories miles away to a pair of foster parents that hardly had her best interests at hand. Forced to obey and listen to her caregiver’s commands, Gwendolyn buries her old self and focuses on the pain to become one of them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A monster herself to seek vengeance.<o:p></o:p></div>
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While yearning for her teeming point to come, Gwendolyn starts to connect with another 17-year-old foster boy living with her who calls himself Welch. Just when Gwendolyn starts to feel faith splice its way through the venom of pain, the connection she has with Welch is put in jeopardy as the harshness gets worse with each passing day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Will the two tattered spirits make it out alive?</div>
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**Not suitable for readers under the age of eighteen due to graphic content.**</div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23843904-gwendolyn-vs-the-band-of-barren-hearts">Goodreads TBR link</a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>About the Author</i></b></span></div>
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Mary E. Palmerin currently resides in Indiana with her husband and two small boys. She enjoys writing raw, taboo tales that strike various emotions in her readers. When she isn't busy writing, she usually has her nose in a good book. Mary enjoys spending time with her family and friends, anything outdoors, cooking, art, tattoos, red wine, traveling, and anything that makes her laugh. You can keep up with her work on her blog at marypalmerinauthor.blogspot.com as well as her Facebook page at Facebook.com/succumbingtoscarsandsorrow for release information and signing schedules. Follow her on Twitter @MP_writer8! Mary loves to hear from her readers!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-14126871568574244862014-12-28T18:43:00.001-08:002014-12-28T18:43:25.820-08:00Farewell 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There is so much I want to say about this past year, I could probably write it into a novel. Who am I kidding, I could likely write it into eight. 2014 has truly been a learning experience for me, also a year where I have grown both personally and professionally. I have learned a lot in the publishing world, some of which has scared me, most of it though has changed me forever in a positive way. </div>
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I never thought I would be here to begin with. Believing you are worthy enough for something takes time, something that I am still adjusting to. Of course I think confidence comes with the journey along with each passing experience, whatever the case I am starting to feel more comfortable in my own skin and I am thankful for this past year because I think it helped me along the way.</div>
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A lot has happened to me... I went from a no one to being signed with a small publishing house, only to understand further that nothing is what it seems. Thankfully I was able to go back to having total control over my work and back to the Indie world that I was so terrified of to begin with. In the midst of my transition from traditional to Indie, I got the rights back to my work and re-published all five of my available books. One was banned soon after. That added more whirl to the wind, but I am grateful for it. Amazon eventually put it back up on their platform. </div>
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All along the way, I have met some of the most incredible people! There are others that have stood by me through the thick of it all, and I wouldn't be here without them. I need to make sure that I let them know just how special they are to me.</div>
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First, I was thrown into the city that stole my heart. I remember e-mailing Bluestockings Bookstore in SoHo last September, beyond terrified. I mean, what in the hell would they want with some southern Indiana girl from nowhere, USA?! But they got back to me after reviewing my book and agreed to a solo event in January. I will forever remember that moment for the rest of my life. I had to remind myself to breathe. I'm grinning now just thinking back to that second, how my heart felt. That event was one that will be instilled in my soul for eternity. It was small, but extraordinary. I even did a live erotic reading before an audience and caught up with some great people in the city. I had the chance to share it with my best friend and cousin, Ashley. We laughed so much during that trip!</div>
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I took that picture before our first night out on the "town" lol. We loved Bleecker Street and all the amazing pubs they had. I never felt more inspired and accepted than I did within that city and I am lucky to be able to go back March 21, 2015 for the Halos and Horns Book Signing!</div>
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All while working full-time, being a mother and wife, and juggling life, I stay up late and write. It is what keeps me sane all while I lack sleep. Perhaps a total conundrum, but the absolute truth. I would be lost without my stories, my truths and tales, fears and loves from my characters. It is what keeps me on an even keel. I am a compulsive writer. Some see it as a blessing. Perchance they are right, sometimes it is, other times not so much, more like a curse. I don't believe those people that say you can't produce good work if you write quickly. Every person is different and I would never judge that. I just know when I have something to tell, I can't stop until I am done. I do at least eight read-throughs and have an incredible editing team (not to mention my inner editing self!). I believe that even though I produce work quickly, they are worthy tales. It has taken me a long time to see that, but I do.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">I am good enough and my stories are beautifully fucked up fairy-tales. I am ready to stop being the wallflower and let my sparkle shine.</span></b></div>
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I've decided to stop playing it safe. Putting myself out there is part of that. I attended a few signings in 2014 and they were all fantastic. It was at the Rogers Mash-Up where I met Kelsey Keeton with KKeeton Designs. I instantly clicked with her and appreciated her vision in the photographs she took. The story of how I found my models is awesome and I couldn't be happier to have found them. They are humble, professional, fabulous people and I consider myself lucky to work with them! Eric and Rachel depicted Lyla and Everett perfectly! </div>
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Another signing I met some more awesome people. Miss Kennedy Kelly is a true gem. I can't wait to hang with her in Austin, TX at the Deep in the Heart Author Event Feb 7, 2015</div>
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These ladies are my heart and soul, my rocks, my sanity through everything this year. We are there for one another outside of the book world as well. They are the first to read my work and the last, the ones that are my front-line warriors, my encouragers, my best friends. Cecily, Tara, Kelly... I love you girls more than you will ever know. I've said this before and I will say it again, you all make me feel like a tarnished old penny that was once unlucky and found, turned into a worthy charm. There are not enough words for me to tell you how much I am humbled and grateful for you girls. Another shout out and thank you to Jenna Schmitt... you are amazing and I look forward to our fruit Fridays again!</div>
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Finally, while mentioning several times that I have found the courage to be good enough, I have so much to look forward to in 2015. I will be wrapping up The Scars and Sorrow Saga and releasing 2 dark books (at least). Gwendolyn vs. the Band of Barren Hearts (Monster #1) and The Absolution of Abrahm Masterson (standalone), coming spring 2015. I am elated to delve into this genre a little deeper than Lyla's story. It has been enlightening, fun, scary, and so much more. It has been interesting and entertaining to take my betas on the wild, dark ride as well!!!!</div>
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Finally, I want to thank my street team, Mary's Magnificent Minxes for being my backbone as well. I love you ladies hard! Until next time, live for today because tomorrow is never promised. And as our beloved Lyla would say...</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Carpe fucking Diem,</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-68271565301713331952014-12-18T08:30:00.000-08:002014-12-18T08:30:10.726-08:002015 Signing Schedule<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">February 7, 2015 Deep in the Heart Author Signing</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Austin, TX</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">March 21, 2015 Halos and Horns Book Signing</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">May 16,2015 Yo Philly Author Event</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">June 6,2015 One More Romance Author Event</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">July 18, 2015 Ever After Author Affair</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Columbus, OH</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">September 12, 2015 Passion in Portland</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Portland, OR</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">October 10, 2015 Great Lakes Book Bash</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Kalamazoo, MI</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">October 27, 2015 Sexy and Sassy Signing</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Greenville, NC</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-47610862965395014352014-12-18T08:08:00.002-08:002014-12-18T08:08:59.554-08:00Dear Readers...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRV0lGNZ2UFfc8358Te0pSzqdDZeTJowkETvMp-SwuevpX5NZ-5A29JWEVzyD4IDMQLkHwnfCpumX5BZwd9CSeghiOyl0n1Pe8Jfy0Y3xSCx2cMa46X76w-zEeg4fbh2Omel9w56TGXwHx/s1600/final+logo+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRV0lGNZ2UFfc8358Te0pSzqdDZeTJowkETvMp-SwuevpX5NZ-5A29JWEVzyD4IDMQLkHwnfCpumX5BZwd9CSeghiOyl0n1Pe8Jfy0Y3xSCx2cMa46X76w-zEeg4fbh2Omel9w56TGXwHx/s1600/final+logo+1.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
Happy Thursday! Wow, it really has been a LONG time since I have made a post. There is a lot to tell you guys, so now is the best time. Books, books, and more books! I haven't been the best at keeping up this blog, and I will be the first one to tell you that I am terrible when it comes to maintaining social media sites. It seems like every day another one is popping up. I am doing well enough with Facebook, my author page, Twitter, and now Google +. But, I will do my very best to work on that aspect :)<br />
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First and foremost, most of you know I am back to being in the Indie world. I couldn't be happier about this. It was a rough transition, but I was able to re-publish all my books and still finish Surpassing, Book 6 of the Scars and Sorrow Saga to release it December 1st. I am beyond lucky to have met so many incredible people that have helped me along this journey. I need to thank Deena, my formatter, for helping me. I don't know what I would do without her! She worked her ass off to get my books (5 to be exact) formatted to be be re-published. That is awesome!<br />
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In the midst of the beautiful chaos, Shadows, Book 3, got banned from Amazon. I am still unsure of why. I will never know the reason either other than Amazon claiming it to be the content. All of my books have the same clear disclaimer, yet the lightest and least offensive was banned. That day, people banded together and stood up for me. I had authors, readers, and bloggers sharing my books and I am so humbled and honored to be part of this community. It took a while, but Amazon eventually allowed for it to be back up on their platform under a different ASIN number. I lost all my reviews (which wasn't many because I had to re-publish from traditional to Indie anyway with a shortened title), but the process was still crazy. I would do it over a million times because it has molded me into a stronger writer and person.<br />
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Amongst all of that, I had surgery and have been off work for six weeks. For those of you that know me personally, you know that I never stop. I don't sleep much and when I am not working at my day job or caring for my boys, I am ALWAYS writing at nighttime. I am a busy person. I love to do things that make me happy, whether that is helping other people (which I do a lot), or creating tales to share with my readers. Being off for six weeks was something I was dreading, not because of the surgical pain. I was certain I could deal with that because I have been through enough to understand pain. However, it was wrapping my brain around not being able to do much. It was going to be a nightmare for sure. The first two weeks were physically draining, but I started to feel a lot better. I have multiple WIP on my computer and within the journals scattered about in my office. Suddenly, a chord was struck in my heart and I felt compelled to tell a story.<br />
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Compulsive writing was brought to the surface with a vengeance.<br />
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I had started Gwendolyn's story before, had roughly 12k words written. It was one that I was sure I would finish and release by summer, planning on a standalone novel only. Big things happened in that story and a lot has changed. Within one week, I finished that story. It was all I could do, eat, sleep, and bleed Gwendolyn's pain and fear. When I have a story that I want to tell, I generally don't stop until it is done. That is exactly what I did with Gwendolyn vs. the Band of Barren Hearts. The beautiful thing about this book is one major thing....<br />
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I feel damn good about it. I'm proud of all my stories, but there is a difference between Lyla's tale and Gwen's. I poured so much of myself into Lyla, it was hard to disassociate myself from her at times. With Gwen, I could live in her world and shut it down, then go back and relive it again when I wanted to tell the story. It was a lot easier for me to tell. Maybe that is what I am trying to say about Gwen's story, all I know is I am so excited to share it with everyone.<br />
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Make no mistake, it isn't fluffy. But, what of mine is? I stress the importance that nothing is what it seems. Real life is hard and it hurts. I think I made my point in Gwen's story, stating that the world's beastly ways can take a young person's mind by storm and alter it in ways that will change it incessantly. What a sad reality that is, but too often true.<br />
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There are so many people that have aided me along this course. I have stated it in the videos I have made that are on my facebook page. I have a blog tour coming up, which scares the shit out of me, but also excites me beyond measure. I've never put myself out there this much, but it is time to put fear aside and let my sparkle shine. Some people will appreciate it, some will hate it, and others will feel indifferent about it. I understand that and I'm willing to finally do it.<br />
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I have one last thing to say about Gwendolyn vs. the Band of Barren Hearts...<br />
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I know I planned on having a standalone, but things change. In the story, you will meet Welch. Something about his tormented soul was screaming out to me, saying tell my story. My heart was broken for him. After I finished Gwen's book, I was certain that their story wasn't over. I knew I had to tell his story as well because he has too much to say for it NOT to be told. Make no mistake, this won't be some long series like the Scars and Sorrow Saga (laughing behind the computer screen!). Rather, a hers and his book (a duet book). Monster #1 and Monster #2. You will understand the significance of those subtitles once you read Gwen's book.<br />
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I hope that you put her story on your TBR. It is one that deserves to be told. As always, live, laugh, love, and carpe diem! Until next time, (sooner rather than later).<br />
<br />
Xx,<br />
<br />M<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-17545610395970052812014-10-06T09:33:00.000-07:002014-10-06T09:33:32.393-07:00Scars and Sorrow Saga new covers! Happy Monday, everyone! It sure has been a long time since I have made a proper post. A lot has happened so I will fill you in with the goodies.<br />
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I'm back to being an Indie author and so proud. I've recently re-released books 1 through 5 with revamped covers and titles and you can find them below. They are all live on Amazon and working their way on iTunes, Nook, Page Foundry, and Scribd.<br />
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Here are the links for Amazon</div>
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Broken, Book 1--》Amazon: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B00HITF7SG/ref=redir_mdp_mobile">http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B00HITF7SG/ref=redir_mdp_mobile</a><br />
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Succumbing, Book 2 --》<br />
Amazon: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B00O3RWJGE/ref=mp_s_a_1_sc_1?qid=1412612624&sr=1-1-spell&pi=AC_SX110_SY165_QL70">http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B00O3RWJGE/ref=mp_s_a_1_sc_1?qid=1412612624&sr=1-1-spell&pi=AC_SX110_SY165_QL70</a><br />
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Shadows, Book 3--》<br />
Amazon: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B00O3RWJXW/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?qid=1412612718&sr=1-1">http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B00O3RWJXW/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?qid=1412612718&sr=1-1</a><br />
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Armored, Book 4--》<br />
Amazon:<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B00O2P1SMI?cache=9fa1d542685098ba91c3d2e0ad1731e6&pi=SY200_QL40&qid=1412612783&sr=1-3#ref=mp_s_a_1_3">http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B00O2P1SMI?cache=9fa1d542685098ba91c3d2e0ad1731e6&pi=SY200_QL40&qid=1412612783&sr=1-3#ref=mp_s_a_1_3</a><br />
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Trials, Book 5--》<br />
Amazon: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B00O3253V2/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?qid=1412612864&sr=1-1">http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B00O3253V2/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?qid=1412612864&sr=1-1</a><br />
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Surpassing, Book 6 of the Scars and Sorrow Saga will be released this December and will soon be available to pre-order through Amazon! �<br />
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I want to say a special thank you to The Hype PR for organizing everything so quickly along with my friends and family that have maintained a supportive and positive attitude. Love to my betas, editor, and formatter for working tirelessly to get these books perfect for rerelease. You ladies are awesome!!!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-91959748547873476982014-09-04T04:14:00.000-07:002014-09-04T04:14:42.217-07:00Dear Readers...Dear Readers,<br />
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It has been some time since I have made a proper post. Please forgive me. There are many things under construction in my life, including my blog which will soon be a website in itself! I am also happy to announce that my covers are in the process of being re-vamped with the prestigious and amazing photographer and graphic designer, KKeeton Designs. I have to take a moment to thank Kelsey, the photographer, and Rachel and Eric, for portraying Lyla and Everett. As hard as it was to depart myself from the original covers, as they hold great meaning to me, I am sure you will love them just as much.<br />
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In addition to that, I have been signed with a PR firm that handles book related accounts. I am proudly on board with Hype PR with the full backing from my publishing house, Heart Powered Publishing. They certainly know the book world like no other and I am confident, as is my publishing house, of their capabilities to get my books into more reader's hands.<br />
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Since I have last posted, I have went to TWO book events. It was beyond idyllic to say the least and I met people that I could only once dream of. I am still convinced I am floating away on a cloud of a dream, basking in someone else's shine. I will post pictures below of both the Rogers, Arkansas Indie Mash Up as well as the Houston, Texas Indie Mash Up.<br />
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Last, but certainly not least, I released my fifth book of the Sorrow Series. Trials of the Mutilated Beauty went live on Amazon, and Nook to follow, on September 2nd. I am elated at the support I have from family, friends, Hype PR, my street team, and readers everywhere. I write stories that I am passionate about. They stay with me forever and I hope to make a lasting imprint in your hearts as well. Lyla is one-of-a-kind in my book, and her story deserves to be told. In Trials, my readers gain a crucial look into her college years. They see where she gains her independence and at times (which I love) she is snarky! People have asked me why I chose to place it in the order I did with it being in her college years. That is an EXCELLENT question. If you read the prologue and epilogue, that will answer your questions fully. I hope that you fall in lust with Professor Blaine Miller just as much as my betas did!<br />
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Without further mention, here are some lovely pictures from my new adventures from my book events!<br />
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With love and eternal respect from my humble heart always,<br />
Mary<br />
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Me and Kennedy Kelly, my table buddy at the Houston event. She is beyond amazing!</div>
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Houston, Texas</div>
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Me and Silvano Williams, author of Spoon-fed Addiction, an INCREDIBLE read!</div>
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Me and Sarah Elizabeth, one of the author's who wrote Dusty Innocents. We both share a liking for writing by hand, tattoos, and creating stories that are completely fucked up. Did I mention we are both Midwestern gals? Love her!</div>
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Me and Eric Madden, my cover model. He will be gracing several of my covers this fall as Mr. Everett Brown. He is such a great gent!</div>
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Me and Christine Stanley, owner of Hype PR. She is awesome and she worked her ass off at the Houston event (well, at Rogers as well!) I'm so honored and excited to be on the Hype team!!!</div>
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Me and S.E. Hall, bestselling author of the Evolve Series, Conspire, Pretty Instinct, and so much more. This woman is fantastic and a firecracker. She gave me some career-changing advice and is real and humble. I will forever remember and thank her for that!</div>
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Rogers, Arkansas</div>
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Hilary Storm, international bestselling author of the Rebel Walking Series, me, and her cover model, Jake! Rogers, Arkansas</div>
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Me and Shayne, aka the 6 million word gal! </div>
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Me and Rachel, my cover model for Lyla</div>
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Rogers, Arkansas</div>
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Getting ready for my first huge author event!</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-11536750372715046672014-05-24T17:13:00.000-07:002014-05-24T17:13:10.322-07:00Teasers from Secrets of a Broken Girl, 0.5 of the Sorrow Series!Happy Saturday, everyone! I am delighted to be back on the promoting bandwagon. For those of you that did not know, my home was affected by a damaging storm two weeks ago. Luckily, no one was injured. Things are chaotic as my family and I are still not able to stay in our home as the repairs are being made, but life is grand. We are alive, well, and healthy.<br />
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Life has been gracious, giving me more than I am certain I deserve. Secrets of a Broken Girl, #0.5 of the Sorrow Series, is being re-released with Heart Powered Publishing (formerly Imaginary Publishing Company) on Friday, May 30th. Below are a few teasers from that story. It has a disclaimer along with the synopsis on Goodreads and it will be listed on Amazon, Nook, and iBooks as well once it goes live. It is not for the faint of heart, however, life is not easy. Lyla's certainly hasn't been. Secrets of a Broken Girl gives my readers insight into the heartwrenching journey she traveled starting on the day of her 18th birthday, a day celebrated by most. That day forever marked her, changed her, and made her see herself differently, even more so than before. But there was always something that she held onto. A four letter word worth more than words can describe.<br />
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Hope.<br />
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Below is the cover, synopsis, and teasers for the book that is dear to my heart. I always knew I wanted to tell this story, and I am damn glad that I did. As mentioned in the dedication, I wrote this for all the Lylas of the world... may you continue to trudge through, keep your head up and see that you are beautiful, worthy, and deserving of love.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-align: left;">Lyla Harper's life has always been shadowed. With her childhood full of unpleasant memories that she tries to tuck away and forget about, she succeeds at putting on a happy front and convincing those around her that she is content. But she isn't.</span></div>
<br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-align: left;">Meet Lyla Elizabeth Harper, a teen whose journey is less than ideal. She experiences heartache, loss, bullying, but through it all she strives for hope. She counts down the days until she has the chance to start over in a new city, unaware of her past. A city far away from the recollections that have scarred her physically and mentally.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-align: left;">In this prequel novella to </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-align: left;">Succumbing to Scars and Sorrow</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-align: left;">, you will be faced with the ghastly and horrendous events that plague Lyla, starting on the day of her eighteenth birthday, a day that changed her forever. Lyla thought that she was broken before, but she was wrong. Davis Moore, a 22 year-old handsome cop and also Rigdon's golden boy, steals something that is irreplaceable from Lyla on that fateful night on Brownsmith Road.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-align: left;">Others will challenge her will and strength, testing her and pushing her to the brink of giving up. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-align: left;">Will Lyla be able to trudge through the deep rut that she is stuck in to move to Chicago and start her life over? Or will the evil events consume her and leave her grounded, unable to lead a life free from pain?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31999969482422px; text-align: left;">**Graphic content, not suitable for readers under the age of eighteen.**</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-47309731954564098042014-05-04T07:00:00.001-07:002014-05-04T07:00:55.182-07:00Cover reveal, His Armored Heart #2.5 of the Sorrow SeriesI am delighted to finally share this amazing cover with you all! Alas, here it is, the cover for Garrett's book. It is due to be released within the month with Imaginary Publishing Company. It will be available for Kindle, Nook, iBooks, and later in print as well. Below is the synopsis. This story is also dear to my heart. If there is a message that I can convey to my readers (which I try with every one of my works), it is to recognize that life is not always what it seems. Sometimes, though not easy or fair, there is more than one version of happily-ever-after.<br />
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I want to further explain that when I first decided to tell Lyla's story, I didn't plan on the additional novellas of the other characters, but they too had stories to tell. After all, everyone does, right? I hope that you love the cover just as much as I do. Patience is not a virtue that I possess, so waiting to share this has been hard! I want to take another moment to say a HUGE thank you to Faith at Imaginary Publishing for allowing me to have input into the covers as well as the reveal. Faith, you rock!<br />
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To my betas, I love you to the moon and back. You ladies give me faith, courage, inspiration, and most of all the strength to keep calm and carry on. Your enthusiasm and unwavering support and love for both me and my work is truly remarkable and something I am sure I don't deserve. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Dive into the life of another character in the tragic and heart-wrenching Sorrow Series.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Garrett Joseph Harper was not the man he once was. His life was altered years ago when his best friend and fellow Marine, Trent, was killed before him while serving in Afghanistan. Circumstances went from bad to worse when his baby sister, Lyla, was the victim of a grisly attack that nearly took her life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">When Lyla finally seems like she is on the bridge to recovering from the life that she once had with the help of her soon-to-be-husband, Everett, Garrett is sinking deeper into the abyss of darkness.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">With the memories of all the gruesomeness that has plagued him he goes about life on autopilot spending his small town life working at the coal mines and drinking his paychecks away at Rigdon's holy place for gossip and trouble, King's Bar.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But Garrett's flame of life is lit once more by Brooklyn Lancaster, a woman who has had eyes for him for as long as she knew what love was. Will the connection Brooklyn has to Garrett's past prevent them from moving forward? Or will something more serious and permanent tear the two new-found lovers away just when both feel a sense of normalcy for the first time in years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">In this second novella of the Sorrow Series, you will have insight into another character's pain, sorrow, and yes, hope. Be prepared for many twists and turns. You know what they say... nothing is ever what it seems.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">** Graphic content. Not suitable for readers under the age of eighteen. **</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-1754441975501467472014-04-12T08:29:00.000-07:002014-04-12T08:29:21.678-07:00Sorrow Series Update! New Release Coming Soon with Imaginary Publishing!!Wow! It really has been some time since I have made a blog post and given my wonderful followers an update with what is going on. Well, first I want to take the opportunity to thank Imaginary Publishing for signing me on and believing in my series and the stories that I have told and continue to tell. It is truly a dream that I never thought would be within grasp. I am extremely grateful to Faith, CEO of Imaginary Publishing for her kind words, belief, and most of all... patience and understanding. All of this is so new to me. A year ago I would have never thought that I would be signed on with a traditional publishing house, but here I am, living and breathing it.<br />
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Faith, you are amazing! I look forward to working with you. You have been a great guide as well as a mentor to me and I cannot thank you enough. Your advice and encouragement is appreciative and I am so excited to meet in person! Excitement is an understatement for the book events planned in the upcoming months... Baltimore, Tampa, NYC? Wow! Totally incredible! To all the fellow authors at Imaginary, thank you for welcoming me with open arms. I am honored to be alongside some talented scribes!<br />
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To all of my followers, I am elated to let you all now that I have been working tirelessly on my third novel (title and release date to be released publicly). That, in addition to my other works being re-edited with Imaginary has taken up much of my time along with my children and job. But, I am trekking on just as always. The characters within the <i>Sorrow Series </i>have become my family and I am completely immersed with telling the story. They have much to say.<br />
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I want to do a quick shout out to my amazing editor JILLIAN :) at Imaginary Publishing. You polished up FOUR of my books in a short amount of time and did it fantastically. You are just remarkable. Thank you!<br />
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Finally!!!!!!!! my NEWEST book of the <i>Sorrow Series, His Armored Heart, #2.5, </i>release party and cover reveal is scheduled for April 18th! Until then, here is a mini teaser from my upcoming release! Check my Facebook page for details facebook.com/succumbingtoscarsandsorrow this week and give Imaginary Publishing facebook.com/imaginarypublishing a like on Facebook as well.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-84556568196052576912014-02-21T08:48:00.000-08:002014-02-21T08:48:28.586-08:00Dream a Little Dream...<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Fear.
Insecurity. Insufficient. Mistrust. Sadness. Sorrow. Doubt. Unsatisfactory. Reservation.
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Those are quite painful words, right? Those are some of
the emotions I have felt over the past year. This writing journey has been
difficult, but it has also been spectacular. I know at times, for me, it has
been hard. When less-than-ideal things happen, it is difficult to focus on the
good. This is something that I am working on every day, taking one step closer
to seeing the positive and being less of a pessimist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To understand, I am going to give you a bit of insight
into the path that I have traveled on. Imagine having an idea. You’ve had it
for some time, one that is a bit much to some, and you finally have the courage
to share it. It’s something you have prepared years before, but have not had
enough faith in to stake. Then you decide to take a chance. Life is about
taking them, right? No one ever really wants to live with the <i>“what ifs”</i>. I know I don’t. So you do
it, and bare your ideas and plans that have literally taken months, perhaps years,
of planning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then the anxiety comes. You second guess your actions,
knowing it may not be a good idea to all. You worry about pleasing everyone.
Then the criticism. Oh God. That is expected of course, but not the kind that
is straight up disheartening and cruel. You then live with more “<i>what ifs”. What if I never decided to do
this? What if I just kept going on and didn’t share this dream? What if I never
took this chance?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Happiness.
Contentment. Joy. Bravery. Dreams. Love. Elation. Courage. Satisfaction. Peace.
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Incredible words, right? Those are also sentiments I have
felt along this journey as well. I need to remind myself often that we live in
a world of imperfection and heartache, but also a world where goodness can
pervade the gloom. Don’t get me wrong, this existence isn’t one where we should
live through rose colored glasses, rather it’s a place where we need to remind
ourselves of the beauty and delight that surrounds us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I have been fortunate to experience all of those emotions
and more. It hasn’t been easy. I am flawed and sometimes need reassurance, but
this path that I chose, one where I took a chance and bared my dreams for the
world to see (or not), has superseded anything I could ever ask for. I have
been blessed to meet many spectacular people along the way, including fellow
authors, poets, readers, and all-around badass individuals.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ve come to realize that anyone who is reaching for the
stars carries these same emotions, both good and bad. We are human, after all,
but it’s the uplifting moments in time that truly replace the wicked ones. I
want to dedicate this post to all those fellow hopeless dreamers out there. May
you run, jump, trudge, and climb towards your dream, no matter what it is. It
takes valor and dedication to do so, and I admire all those that do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I also want to take a moment to thank a few special
people in my life that have stood by my side. A week from today, I will be
releasing my third book of <i>The Sorrow
Series</i>. And for the first time in nearly two years, I am proud of myself,
recognizing what I have done is really something whether I sell one copy or a
thousand, I will remain humble and gracious for all those that have taken time
to read the stories that I have created. Tales that are graphic and raw, but
they are also beautifully tragic and real. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To my family, from my mother and step-father, siblings,
aunts, uncles, and cousins… I love you all to the moon and back. You’ve always
loved me for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To my dear friends at home, you know who you are.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To the talented scribes I have met along the way, I am
honored to know you all. I hope you continue to tell fabulous stories, because
you too, are amazing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To the bloggers that have taken a chance, and most of all
time, to read my work and promote it to their audience, I am indebted to you
all. You have spread the word and recommended my tales to literature-lovers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To the group of ladies that have become lifelong friends,
you know who you are. You have lifted me up when I have been down, and most of
all… you have given me real friendship, something that is few and far between
in life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Finally, to my readers. My humbled heart swells with
gratitude for your belief in my series.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Shadows
of Scars and Sorrow, Book Two of The Sorrow Series goes live on Amazon on February
28, 2014. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-66358373513240173372014-02-11T19:53:00.000-08:002014-02-11T19:53:17.871-08:00True Love Stories Never End<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In honor of the upcoming Valentine’s Day, I have decided
to post a short. I thought about writing a fairy tale (one of my favorites
since I was a young girl) or perhaps a lovely poem about cupidity and such, but
none of those things felt right. I couldn’t get into the mindset. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As you all know, I am a proud mother to two young boys
and I am married to the love of my life. I made the decision to tell you my
true life love story. Here goes… happy reading. I want to dedicate this to the
man that has remained by my side for the past eight, almost nine years. He
loves me through all my ugliness, flaws, and imperfections. He sees my beauty,
strength, perseverance, and passion. There were many times where we could have
given up and went our separate ways, but we haven’t and won’t. Because true
love stories never end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So here’s to you, Domingo. My better half. I love you
more than you will ever know.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was just another muggy summer’s day in Southern
Indiana. Mary was planning to meet up with her girlfriends and cousin at the
river bottoms that Memorial Day weekend. She had just turned eighteen two weeks
before, celebrating a little too much, and perhaps rebelling a bit as well
getting her first tattoo along with a few piercings that would upset her mother
deeply.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She was a lost soul with a good heart. Intelligence was
an attribute that she possessed, however life had a way of making things difficult
for her. Her heart craved to be loved and accepted, but she felt undeserving.
So she went about life in limbo, working and spending the weekends the way most
Midwestern teens do. She was trying to figure life out. But what did that
really mean? Even she was unsure. She was just flying with the wind, hoping
that a gust would soon take her somewhere new and exciting where things would
be different. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Little did she know that a gust would soon take her away
to a new place, perhaps better labeled a new chapter. It’s one of those tics that
writes the script for years to come. Life hadn’t been easy for her, but who’s is
really easy anyway? People have a funny way of interpreting others. They’re so
quick to think that other individuals live through rose colored glasses. Trust
that it isn’t the case, not at all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She threw her dark hair into a messy ponytail, trying to
tame the curly locks that erupted from the humidity. Mary then put on a white
tank top and her favorite pair of jeans and pink flip flops, hopped into her
red neon, and started her trek to the river bottoms.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Hours of laughs and shenanigans later, she was introduced
to an older man (much older to her at the time, please note that a barely
eighteen-year-old girl thinks twenty-four nearing twenty-five is old!)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Domingo,
that is surely a name I would remember. Nope. Never met this guy. And he kinda
seems like a jerk, </span></i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">she thought. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But she noticed his smile, his quiet charm, and his baby
face. There was just something unexplainable that she felt that humid summer’s
night. It was billowing in the air, but there were no words to describe it. How
much does an eighteen-year-old girl really know about love anyway? Especially
when she was given every reason to despise it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The flirting continued, and she allowed herself to laugh,
I mean a real and true laugh. It felt good to smile. She liked how she felt
when she was with him. He didn’t talk much, but she was okay with that. He didn’t
pester her with questions, he just let her be. That was something she was
grateful for.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A moment as simple as that is when true love blossoms
unknowingly. Two people’s paths crossing by fate, their stories written to
intercede at the timing God wants. That is exactly what happened to Mary and
Domingo. It wouldn’t be easy, no way. Life would throw them many wicked curves
the years to come, but they were the perfect example of love conquering all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They experienced heartbreak and loss. Heartbreak is a
necessity to make true love last. Sometimes you have to lose something to realize
just how important it is. That happened to both of them. There were many tears
shed and Mary was certain that someone at the other side of the world could
hear her heart shatter into a million pieces.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But those pieces would mend and make her heart stronger,
for the love that she had for the man that saved her would supersede everything
else. There wasn’t anything else to compare it to, there were no words, but all
she could do was fight. So did he… He fought for her, because he knew she was
the one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Fast forward… Memorial Day weekend 2008 (three years
after meeting for the first time).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mary and Domingo sat at her parent’s house nursing Corona’s
in the hot summer sun by her mother’s pool. Her family was around, laughing,
listening to music, and soaking up the warm rays. Mary had just celebrated her
twenty-first birthday and life finally seemed to be on track for her. She was
in college, looking at graduating the following year and hoping to turn the
page into the next phase of the relationship she shared with Domingo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They already lived together, shared an amazing trip, and
dealt with life all in the interim. They were happy, but Domingo being Domingo remained
stubborn (please note that he had a tendency to be more strong-willed than
Mary). They had discussed engagement before, but never anything seriously.
Sure, they looked at rings together, but once she found the perfect one, he
said no.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mary decided to let it be. Little did she know, that day
was another (and one of many) that would change her life interminably. The sun
was soon to set and she noticed that Domingo had gone off with her older (and
very protective brother). <i>Hmmm,</i> she
wondered. <i>What are they doing? </i>(He
was asking her older brother, John, permission to have his baby sister’s hand
in marriage. John was a father-figure to Mary, walking her down the aisle and
giving her away on her wedding day).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She dismissed it as the party was wrapping up. Domingo
was an anxious mess, fidgeting with his hands and trying to rush Mary away from
the gathering.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So she obliged and hopped into his huge Cadillac
Escalade. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Where are you going? You’re supposed to turn right?” she
said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I know. I thought we could go up to the church.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mary’s heart sank. <i>The
church</i>. That was her safe place, but most of all, that is where her
grandparents were buried. They were dear to her heart and taken away a few
years before. The thought of seeing their graves made tears prick behind her
bright brown eyes. It was bittersweet. That country church nestled above a hill
held memories close to Mary’s heart. It was the place where she grew up, and
she always felt at peace there. Domingo knew how special it was to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He turned right into the vacant parking lot and they
walked hand-in-hand over to her grandparent’s tombstones. Mary allowed her
tears to escape, allowing her eyes to tell her Poppa and Grandma a story she couldn’t
tell with words. She hoped that they were proud of the young woman she had
become. She thought of everything that they had missed and everything that she
wanted them to see.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She stood and took her lovers hand in hers, and walked
around to the front of the church, passing the large stained glass windows.
They settled beneath the front steps as a large Oak tree provided them shade
from the sun that was just barely peeking through the clouds, preparing for its
slumber. Domingo reached in his pocket and got down on one knee.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another moment, an inkling in time, a decision made by
two people to fight for what they love… each other. And she said yes as he
slipped the princess-cut diamond on her long finger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another page turned, another chapter started, another
love saved all because two people battled for it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-57690673391193128842014-01-26T06:45:00.004-08:002014-01-26T07:32:51.696-08:00My NYC Trip!Happy Sunday, lovelies! I hope your week treated you well. I have made a few posts since I returned home from NYC, but I haven't had the opportunity to tell you how it went. I thought I could share some photos from my journey to the Big Apple.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6USGRata0VpM6-hZoBE_PTUzGQzYz1XUfgK18sx4VBdohe5Gq9-h_9mIHmJ8kUofNaiNRA3GQIVa6H9lP7b5nEOieAosaaNiTUf2qwQfz_RvDzd4Tu6-rV-pi_ArmJ2U2faf4F011oLE/s1600/nyc31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6USGRata0VpM6-hZoBE_PTUzGQzYz1XUfgK18sx4VBdohe5Gq9-h_9mIHmJ8kUofNaiNRA3GQIVa6H9lP7b5nEOieAosaaNiTUf2qwQfz_RvDzd4Tu6-rV-pi_ArmJ2U2faf4F011oLE/s1600/nyc31.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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I am 26 years young and I have been blessed with so much already. It seems like a dream. I cannot convince myself that what has happened is reality, but I look through the pictures once again and I am reminded of it. Wow! I was born in Iowa and raised in a small town in Southern Indiana. I have visited some cities that I consider to be huge like Indianapolis, Chicago, and Las Vegas. I was not fully prepared for the magnitude of NYC.<br />
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For those of you that don't know, I was accompanied by my cousin and best friend, Ashley. We both grew up in the country as neighbors. We spent our summers riding bikes and four-wheelers, sunbathing and playing in the sprinkler, and swimming in her pool. In the fall we would explore the woods, climb in the old tree house, swing on the vines hanging from the trees, and spend our nights camped out in a tent (in the back yard!) I suppose you can say we grew up as "country girls". I love the smell of the fresh country air as well as the lakes and rolling hills, but for as long as I can remember I have always wanted to venture out into the world and experience something bigger.<br />
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<b>Cousins and best friends! We were at a great bar on Bleecker Street called Wicked Willy's!</b></div>
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<b>Another amazing little place on Bleecker Street, Peculier Pub!</b></div>
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<b>Coffee with Seinfeld! It's the little things that make us smile, right?</b></div>
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<b>Posing proudly for a selfie on our very first subway ride!</b></div>
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<b>Yes, I had to get my pic taken before hopping on the subway!</b></div>
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In September, I received some spectacular news from an indie bookstore in NYC. They liked the story that I wrote for my debut and wanted to host an event in January. It seems like yesterday when I got that news, anxiously counting down the days until it became a reality. Now, I look back through pictures and recollect on memories and I am still shocked that such a thing happened to me!<br />
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Yes! That is my book, shelved for the very first time at Bluestockings Bookstore in NYC! I have them to thank for taking a chance on an author from a tiny Midwestern town. The look and feel of the bookstore felt like home. It was warm and welcoming, the staff amazing, and I felt confident! Truly remarkable, and I look forward to visiting them again for another event in the future.</div>
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Did I mention that I did a reading in front of a live audience? Yes, it's true. I read the last erotic scene of the book in front of people! For those of you that know me on a personal level, you can attest to the fact that I am shy. I write erotica, but writing and reading it out loud are two different things! In fact, anytime someone would ask what brought us to NYC I told them I wrote a book. They would then ask what it was about. Being shy, I replied "contemporary romance". Ha! Ashley would then say, "no, no, it's erotica". I would then blush! So doing a reading in front of people was a huge thing for me! I could not have done such a thing without the support and encouragement of Ashley, Lauren, Cindy, and the ladies at Bluestockings. Lauren flew up for the event from down South, and I am beyond thankful for her, Cindy, and Michele being at my event. I am blessed with great friends.</div>
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Keep calm and read on, right? I did just that. I sat in a chair before the audience, took a deep breath and a sip of my delicious coffee (courtesy of the staff at Bluestockings) and began reading. Once I started the nervousness disappeared and I allowed the beautifully erotic tale of Lyla and Everett come out of my mouth to form words to tell the story to my readers. It was such an incredible feeling, almost impossible to put into words. </div>
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Not only did I have the chance to meet Lauren, Cindy, Michele, and my readers, I also connected with an old friend from high school, LeAnn. She also followed a dream, working hard to achieve it. And now, she is a doctor, working and living in Brooklyn! </div>
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<b>LeAnn and Ashley! </b></div>
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<b>Ashley, me, LeAnn after the reading at the event. So thankful for these ladies! We celebrated at Times Square after, and it was fabulous!</b></div>
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<b>Me at the NYC Public Library! One of my favorite places in the city!</b></div>
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<b>Grand Central Station</b></div>
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Being in a city like NYC gave me so much inspiration. With so many people around I was fascinated, thinking that every unique individual hustling around me has a story of their own. Some heartbreaking and others romantic. It amazed me seeing so many people existing in a world of its own, living a true-life story. I most definitely will return to the city that never sleeps. It welcomed me with open arms and provided me with the best experience of my writing career. I am in love with that city and I look forward to returning in the future. </div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-75387056482120114232014-01-10T11:51:00.000-08:002014-01-11T14:47:19.277-08:00Little Girl Gone<div style="text-align: left;">
Here is a short story that I wrote for Lyla. It is heartbreaking, as most of her journey has been. I welcome your comments below. I hope this story touches your heart. Remember, every woman deserves her fairy tale ending, even the ones that believe they are damaged...</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Kunstler Script"; font-size: 36.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Little
Girl Gone<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The truth is God has a plan for everyone, even before they
are thought of. All souls have their journey written for them, even the ones
that never make it out into the chaotic world to breathe their first breath;
they have a script written for them, too. As much as people try to figure out
their paths and dodge the wicked curves that are thrown their way, it’s
inevitable. You will stumble and fall and occasionally get hit between the eyes
hard with unfortunate and sometimes gruesome events. Ironically, it is all part
of the plan.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The four year old princess ran beneath the hills near the
pond on her grandparent’s farm. Her little lungs filled themselves to their
depths with the scent of honeysuckle tickling her nose. She had pure happiness
in her heart. Her life had been normal so far, (well, normal to her, not to
others), experiencing the milestones that most little ones do. She was
intelligent and proud, spelling out her name to anyone that would listen. She
loved fairy tales and Cinderella was her favorite. Her dream was to become a
princess when she grew up. The little girl had a path of her own just like
everyone else, and life would prove to be cruel to her, testing her will for
years to come.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Her long black locks tumbled about as
she carried her tiny legs as fast as she could, being chased by her older
brother. The sun was shining an array of rainbow colors and it was soon to set.
The little girl had her mason jar waiting for her on her Nonnie and Pops’
wrap-around porch to catch fireflies that muggy summer’s night. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Her giggles were like sweet
symphonies, the angels above strumming their harps and the chords coming from
the little girl’s lungs. She was the epitome of beauty, but the world would
show its ugly side to her soon. With the times to come, the little princess
would not see her true loveliness; but that was part of her script, the script
written for all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“L-Y-L-A, Lyla,” the cherub-faced
girl said to her Pops in a southern drawl.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Smart girl,” her Pops said, pride
swelling in his chest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Pops, I don’t wanna go home. Can I
stay with you and Nonnie, pwease?” the sweet little girl asked as she saw her
daddy’s truck speeding up the long driveway leaving a thick trail of dust
behind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Oh, Lyla, I’m sorry. Your daddy is
here to get you. But you and Bub and Sis will come back in a few weeks before
school starts, okay?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What about the bug with flashlights
on their butts?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Haha! Lyla, baby. Those are called
fireflies,” he said as a laugh escaped his lungs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I wanna catch ‘em and take ‘em home
with me, Pops. Pweeaseee.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Next time, baby. I promise,” her
Pops said to her before pulling her into him for a tight hug.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tears pricked behind her chocolate
brown eyes. Those tears would fight their way and win, not just at that moment
in time, but for many years in the future. That little girl would face her
first obstacle of evil that very night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The young girl sat between her daddy and brother in the big
pick-up truck. She didn’t care for that vehicle. It always made her feel
uncomfortable, but she never understood why. After all, how much does a four
year old little girl really understand about life, anyway? She felt the torn
vinyl seats scratch her tiny bruised legs. She smelled the exhaust from the
aged 4x4 and the feeling of terror filled her heart; it raced and she knew at
four years old that something bad was about to happen. That feeling of imminent
doom would be a premonition that would always be, and she would relate that
same emotion to many other times in her life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Get out, boy,” huffed her father. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“But why? This is a gas station,
Daddy. I don’t wanna be left alone.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I said get the fuck out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The father’s voice was a deep
baritone, and loud enough to scare the birds away in flight from counties away.
His yell made shivers run down his daughter’s spine and letdown flip in his
son’s belly. He truly didn’t care. His plan was already etched out as well,
though an evil one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The young boy knew better than to
test his father. He had tried before, but learned his lesson sporting the marks
on his petite six year old frame. That was the evidence of his father’s
madness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The young boy knew not to question
his daddy again. He wouldn’t let him see how upset he was. This wasn’t the
first time that such a thing had happened. He knew he was the lucky one between
him and his sisters. He felt like a failure, such a sad sentiment at a young
age. He thought about rebelling his father’s commands and demanding his baby
sister accompany him into the country gas station, but he was sure he couldn’t
save her, just like the other times with his older sister. All he could do is
pray for her to be okay, and pray to God for his daddy to stop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He found a quarter on the dirty floor
of the gas station and headed to the pay phone to call his Pops. It was a good
thing he was learning to memorize phone numbers in school, and even a better
thing he paid attention to learning his Pops’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I don’t understand, Daddy. I want Momma and Ros. Where’s
Garrett? I wanna go to them at Uncle Tony’s house. Pwease,” the little girl
pleaded in a near whisper.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Her begs were insignificant to him.
She felt the sting on her already rosy cheek as her head flung to the side from
the blow to her face. Her black curls followed suit, swaying across her face.
It was a good thing for her because they encased the tears that freely flowed
down. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Good moments gone too soon. That
would be the story of her life, but she had a noble soul. She would live a life
of contentment one day, breathing the true dream of a fairy tale. It’s the tics
along the way that wouldn’t be easy. At that inkling in time, her life was
turned upside down and she would carry the pain and memories for the rest of
her life. The one man that was supposed to protect her shattered her image of
Prince Charming. She was ruined for all others, until the day that she was to
be rescued from the burning castle; a day she thought would never come. At four
years old she started to hate herself, and the dimness would lurk and bite her
along the way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Happiness and joy were ceased, for the
little girl was gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-28211939044283327202014-01-05T14:33:00.001-08:002014-01-05T14:33:44.337-08:00Interview with Blogger, Cecily Bonney!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWcePYsJM-J0LG8-uPECVvMPb5SZiXfDfHS1o1nB98xbbV2KpCVvOF73BQRRU9XRicixXThXV334lMgeudbxaioeczOYdLKOiya94ac3Qd_kkMUObpMaEQ38JnBuCfm20CUdsq07fwSFUN/s1600/Cecily+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWcePYsJM-J0LG8-uPECVvMPb5SZiXfDfHS1o1nB98xbbV2KpCVvOF73BQRRU9XRicixXThXV334lMgeudbxaioeczOYdLKOiya94ac3Qd_kkMUObpMaEQ38JnBuCfm20CUdsq07fwSFUN/s1600/Cecily+(1).jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I had the pleasure of meeting this amazing woman on
Twitter several months ago. It all started with a book recommendation and has
blossomed into a true lifelong friendship. I am honored to be part of her
journey, just as she plays a crucial role in mine. Read below to find more out
about this beautifully passionate and funny lady!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What
is your first reading memory and how did it make you feel?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Charlotte’s web. It made me want to go and save every
animal from being harmed. So I begged my dad to help me rescue a turkey and he
did it. Terry the turkey was my pet for about 2 years then we donated him to a
petting zoo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif";"><br />
<br />
</span><b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What are you currently
reading now, and how do you feel about its content?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I am currently reading <i>The Temptation of Lila and Ethan</i>. I am feeling really bad for Lila
right now because she has a lot of pressure on her to be perfect and I could
never imagine having parents that would only love me if I was perfect. (But I
am also only on page 3)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What made you want to be a
book blogger and why?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Someone (you) once told me that I am a very passionate
reader and that I should start my own book blog. I love reading and wanted
people to experience the joy that I get out of every book that I have read. The
books that I have read can and will help people. Sounds crazy…maybe but very
true.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />
</span><b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The book world is crazy!
Tell us how you manage your blog.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Well I am still new at this whole blog thing. I am a
full-time Mom, and I work full-time, but reading books are my escape. So I
flipping love writing reviews, but I do get nervous when pushing that button to
publish, because I never want to let an author down with my review.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mary: You would never let any writer down. As an author, I
can tell you that all would be grateful for you taking the time to read and
review a book. Without readers, writers would be nothing. So, thank you, Cecily!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What is your favorite book
and why?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Succumbing
to Scars and Sorrow</span></i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">. This is my favorite book of all time. Why?
Because out of every single book I have read this book took a hold of my heart
and hasn’t let it go. I am so much like the character Lyla it is scary and that
is why this book will forever be my all-time favorite story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mary: Again, thank you from the bottom of my humble
heart. I am forever grateful for your friendship, encouragement, support, and
love for my work. You rock!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
<br />
</span><b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Who is your current book
boyfriend? What can you tell us about him?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Shadow Tremaine (from the Midnight Society)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This character is so dark, mysterious, enchanting, moody,
sexy, handsome, mesmerizing, and yummy. Shadow is full of dark secrets that are
just waiting to come out, and he is powerful. HELLO!!!! I want him and I can’t
wait to get more of him!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
<br />
</span><b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Is there ever a time when
you haven't felt like reading? If so, when was it and why?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes. Truthfully I have never liked reading. I was in
Pharmacy for 13 years, so all I would read is medical magazines. Then May 2013
I went through a bad break-up and called my engagement off and I was so sad I
didn’t even want to leave the house. So I picked up <i>Fifty Shades of Grey </i>for the second time, and it just blew up from
there. Now I can’t stop reading…..you can say I am addicted to books.</span><b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
<br />
</span><b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What is the hardest part of
being a book blogger and why?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Someone not liking my review. So far it hasn’t happened
yet but never say never. lol<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
<br />
</span><b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Most anticipated book of
2014 for you.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ummm let me see that would have to be Garrett’s story (he
is Lyla’s brother in <i>Succumbing to Scars
and Sorrow</i>) I guarantee he will be my next book boyfriend. Sorry Shadow!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
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</span><b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What is your greatest accomplishment
and why?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Being a mother! I have to most lovable, respectable,
handsome little boy ever. He is 12 and he is the love of my life. He is my
greatest accomplishment, but he make me be a better person. He is truly my
HERO. He is a fighter, that is for sure. At age 2 he was diagnosed with being
Mentally Retarded and Autism. They said he would never be in a normal school
setting. Now at 12 he is in 6<sup>th</sup> grade and on honor-roll and in
a normal school setting. People always tell me what a good parent I am for
working so hard with him, but truthfully it was all him. He is and will
continue to do his best and not use his condition as a crutch. I mean my baby
already picked out that college he wants to go to, which is San Diego State
University.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
<br />
</span><b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Favorite alcoholic drink:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Red Bull and Vodka<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
<br />
</span><b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Favorite song:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Clocks</span></i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> by
Coldplay<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
<br />
</span><b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Favorite movie:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My
Best Friend’s Wedding<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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</span><b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Favorite author:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mary E. Palmerin and Logan Patricks<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Favorite actor and actress
(1 each).<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Julia Roberts and Paul Walker<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Favorite TV show.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Scandal</span></i><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> and
<i>Grey’s Anatomy</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dream vacation:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Anywhere as long as includes a beach, 80-90 degree
weather, sunny, my kindle, with a hot sexy man bringing me drinks. (Oh, and me
looking hot in a 2 piece bikini….preferably white!)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Number one goal you wish to
attain in life and why:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To write a column in Vogue magazine. (The hot books and
why!) Because when my grandmother was looking at the fashion in the magazine, I
would always tell her to read the HOT books. She would never do it. And I told
her that I wanted to be like Carrie in <i>Sex
in the City </i>and start my own blog. Well here I am with my own blog…..now
all I need is to start a column in a magazine or newspaper. I can always start
small.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Cecily</span></b><span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">, I
want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for being a caring and genuine
friend. That means the world to me. Your passion for books is remarkable along
with the all-around badass person that you are. Your faith, support, encouragement,
and enthusiasm for the stories that I create are what helps me continue
writing. You are an amazing woman, friend, mother, sister, daughter, blogger,
the list is endless. I consider myself lucky and honored to have you in my
life. Gracias, Senorita~ Cannot wait to meet you in St. Louis!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calisto MT","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Follow her blog at cecilysbookreview.blogspot.com for
fantastic reviews and interviews and all things books! You can also follow her
on twitter @BonneyCecily. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span id="goog_750544031"></span><span id="goog_750544032"></span><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-44608083708561900632013-12-22T06:45:00.000-08:002013-12-22T06:45:03.103-08:00Cover Reveal, Secrets of a Broken GirlI am super excited to release this cover. This is the only cover out of all five stories in the <em>Sorrow Series</em> that wasn't created by my dear friend and amazing artist, Khristian Seaton. The reasoning behind this is because I wrote the story so quickly (in two weeks) and she already has other projects that she is working on, not to mention a business to run. I am anxious to share this story and I want to release it soon, so I chose this cover myself. I would like to explain to you all the significance of this cover and why I chose it!<br />
<br />
First, I know many of you judge a book by its cover (as do I!) One thing that I absolutely love about reading is forming my own thoughts and images in my mind about the characters, which is why with all of my covers you will not find real life photos. I don't mind real life ones at all! (Who can resist a hot man on a book cover? Not me!) It's just a personal decision that I made with this series. <br />
<br />
I chose this illustration for many reasons. It is not a real life picture and there are so many things going on within the cover art. First, the girl depicted has similar features to Lyla, long black hair and a broken heart. She is holding a heart that is held together, definitely a symbol of the phase that her life is in within this tale. Furthermore, the face in the tree symbolizes the incubi that constantly plague her thoughts and consume her life. Lastly, the birds that are flying freely around her represent her want to be released from the steel cage of life, yearning for a new beginning. I fell in love with this piece of art and immediately knew it was what I wanted to choose for the cover for my prequel novella, <em>Secrets of a Broken Girl.</em><br />
<br />
I hope that you enjoy it! Please feel free to leave a comment below and tell me how you feel about this art piece. Lyla's story will be released soon, and I hope that you will have the chance to read it and get to know her from the very beginning of her troubles. I think that you will understand her a lot better. I am releasing this prequel prior to book two for various reasons (many you will discover after reading book two!) It helps connect the dots and give you a full picture of many of the characters, not just the leads, within the <em>Sorrow Series</em>!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo8t7OclkttJoArPSu-cQIX3Zp6ukqwgCH5yJryUzW8bdxEMEkhjo-7PjDRl-334a6UXzkSECr7TSJ8kN4VG9ZkLhsyVVtpe46Wzk7m_vJSZEKBXaANtGDA-cx6BHagn0KHiB3Ti2Mm-i0/s1600/finalcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo8t7OclkttJoArPSu-cQIX3Zp6ukqwgCH5yJryUzW8bdxEMEkhjo-7PjDRl-334a6UXzkSECr7TSJ8kN4VG9ZkLhsyVVtpe46Wzk7m_vJSZEKBXaANtGDA-cx6BHagn0KHiB3Ti2Mm-i0/s320/finalcover.jpg" width="235" /></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-80451483355777660932013-12-12T21:16:00.000-08:002013-12-12T21:16:15.613-08:00FreeI wrote this since my prequel novella, <em>Secrets of a Broken Girl</em> will be released the end of next month. The feelings within this short piece are those that describe Lyla from the beginning of her heartwrenching journey. This poem is dedicated to all the Lylas out there. Never give up hope...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOpjMcAi88JCEwcpgyoIAItiAjVOyfxyRmhrwFZwJJRDm649xOc6MmX5RbwZWsW1Y9Dw2RvtKPCtDee8uFvt-_oX3eeR3VNisg89T57W4r6tonzc8upS7hRsbOBo9-MHbCzkG1TE6cBkM8/s1600/free2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOpjMcAi88JCEwcpgyoIAItiAjVOyfxyRmhrwFZwJJRDm649xOc6MmX5RbwZWsW1Y9Dw2RvtKPCtDee8uFvt-_oX3eeR3VNisg89T57W4r6tonzc8upS7hRsbOBo9-MHbCzkG1TE6cBkM8/s320/free2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 26pt; line-height: 200%;">Free<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Here I
am stuck in this steel cage<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Imprisoned
endlessly by someone else’s rage<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I have
been broken once, I am broken yet again<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Will
the pain cease? Will the aching end?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I am a
bird that is grounded and cannot lift to fly<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
continue to ask the same question, one simple word, why?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">My
world stopped turning that one fateful night<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The blackness
is victorious, I can no longer see the light<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Living
in my head is not an easy place to be<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I want
to dream peacefully, I want to be free<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">My
heart is shattered to bits and beyond all repair<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">My
soul is now consumed with nothing but despair<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
ferocious patterns linger, the thoughts continue to race<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I have
disappointed many, I am nothing but a disgrace<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I want
to be free, I want to learn to fly<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Monotype Corsiva"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Belief
is all I need, I’m pleading with myself to try<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-40052452741846514912013-10-15T19:09:00.000-07:002013-10-15T19:09:36.577-07:00Lyla<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirfDzmqgewXVm3EXTXfPHwuTZ6m-2eBBnh21dV2B0cNNceRc6OHHj9EMTK8J_Fs1rwiRYhGpUG0i0Hfuq6qCW9mEtkKn7JcWift_dqWIlYrKR-HknhJ-W1QzD7C3xmyBXlNbz0hpWKrG_U/s1600/lyla.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirfDzmqgewXVm3EXTXfPHwuTZ6m-2eBBnh21dV2B0cNNceRc6OHHj9EMTK8J_Fs1rwiRYhGpUG0i0Hfuq6qCW9mEtkKn7JcWift_dqWIlYrKR-HknhJ-W1QzD7C3xmyBXlNbz0hpWKrG_U/s320/lyla.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I sit here and think of all the pain<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What does this world with me in it have to gain?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am still so young, so much life to be lived<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Too much heartache, I cannot forgive<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Those who tore away at my heart<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And ripped my scarred soul apart<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I cannot numb these feelings that consume my head<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I push the blade to my stomach and cut away instead<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Will people begin to understand what has taken place?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Or will I continue to pretend to have a fake smile on my face?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">People transfer their hatred and unhappiness onto me<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When will it be noticed? When will others see?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am such a damaged girl, I cannot live this way<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Should I choose to leave, or can I suffer and stay?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It would be easier to give up this awful fight<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t see anything joyful within sight<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I pray to God to give me a break<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Creating me for this world had to be His mistake<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196785767501912771.post-28348004451850212012013-10-13T15:38:00.000-07:002013-10-13T15:38:49.402-07:00Succumbing to Scars and Sorrow, Book 1 of the Sorrow Series<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRmvSPyUOTACpbjArbFgX32xCrd0RdJRGQmOdxIftDgzWBn3T621RB6_0LToVDLnUjqFNzKHx4oSBxyzmSo21E8gSOz1mKwOpnLrF07JQ5I70jUQzJbjP2M2LSIetfoqPqOdyWxh7_WQag/s1600/blurb.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRmvSPyUOTACpbjArbFgX32xCrd0RdJRGQmOdxIftDgzWBn3T621RB6_0LToVDLnUjqFNzKHx4oSBxyzmSo21E8gSOz1mKwOpnLrF07JQ5I70jUQzJbjP2M2LSIetfoqPqOdyWxh7_WQag/s320/blurb.PNG" width="243" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12105005601788143465noreply@blogger.com1