tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89666996632800339322024-03-05T11:14:01.561-08:00Friedgatortailfriedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.comBlogger159125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-12885415168314915802019-03-29T06:27:00.000-07:002019-03-29T06:27:07.696-07:00The Wild In Her Eyes - A first look!<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">....By morning, she’d
traveled miles from home. How many, she couldn’t say for sure, but she’d kept
moving until the orange glow of dawn began to creep up along the horizon. Only
when she knew for certain day was upon her did she finally allow her body to
rest. Curled up along the curve of a fallen tree trunk, she slept nestled in
the leaves and soft moss, hidden away behind the brush and overgrowth that had
long ago welcomed their fallen friend back home to the earth from which they’d
all grown.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">When she awoke,
the sun sat high in the sky and the growl of her own stomach reminded her how
many hours had passed since her last meal. Even as her hollow insides whined in
discomfort, her appetite remained absent. Still, she knew she’d need her
strength. And so, her body sore and weak, she began to search for viable
sustenance. It took some time and foraging, but the forest supplied well,
offering up a fair share of wild blackberries and a handful of mushrooms she
recognized from hikes with her father. Those adventures with him seemed an
eternity ago now. On the rare occasion he’d been in town to do so, they’d spend
the day exploring the woods behind their home, wandering together, basking in
the midday sun, and enjoying whatever treats they’d stumbled upon on their
walk. Her father had always been good at finding treasured morsels among the
weeds and forest debris. His years of travel had taught him much, and so he’d
seen to it that she too learned to tell the poison from the berry, the edible
from the deadly. It had been all in good fun once upon a time. Now she could
hardly bear the pain of dwelling on the memories beyond the details she needed
to remember to survive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Before long, her
stomach quieted and she returned to her journey, following paths walked only by
hooves and padded paws before her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She navigated by
the sun during the day and let the stars guide her at night, slept and ate only
when her body demanded it, and kept far from the bounds of civilization. As the
days passed, her blistered feet became bruised and bloody. She left rusty red
marks in the dirt with her every step, the evidence of her pain oozing through
the holes in her battered shoes. All but one of her fingernails had ripped off
at the nailbed—nine casualties of clawing her way through the wild terrain and
fending for food and building fires on the coldest nights. Keeping to the woods
had sheltered her from rain and sun, but it had done little to preserve her
overall appearance. Her dress was filthy and torn. The exposed parts of her
body had suffered cuts and scrapes after repeated lashings from wayward tree
limbs and debris, which was carried on a whipping wind that left her cheeks and
lips burned and raw. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She tripped on a
long, knobby root of an ancient oak and let out a hoarse yelp from falling face
first and realized the absence of her voice. Startled, she touched her throat.
The rough calluses from her own hand against her tender skin caught her off
guard a second time. She didn’t recognize her own body anymore. Slowly, she
climbed back to her feet and steadied herself against the tree whose roots had
thwarted her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">There, standing
tall and staring blankly at the horizon, her new body and reborn spirit
glimpsed their new fate. The silence of the woods, which had been like an
invisible veil keeping her secluded during her journey, lifted. Beyond the
trees lay a vast, green valley. And it was filled with life, human life. She
relished the buzzing of voices and bodies hard at work. She looked closer. The
people she saw below were members of a traveling circus. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She’d heard
stories, of course, about the freaks who ran with the circus. Scoundrels always
on the hunt for their next schemes. Shameless women willing to do depraved
things too lurid to even contemplate. Tales of two-headed men and bearded
ladies, creatures so deformed and unnatural that the devil himself had a hand
in creating them. These stories had been meant to scare her away, to encourage
her to keep her distance from the likes of those who sought out the open road,
the shows, the tents, and the paths that led from sordid pasts to torrid
futures. The tales had always worked, but none quite as well as that of the
one-eyed man her mother had called the Human Snake, who hypnotized his audience
into submission, leaving them in his control forever after, none of them ever
the wiser of the terrible acts he had them perform while in their trance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Fear of the unknown
had held her curiosities at bay. But now the unknown was all she had, and it
would take more than scary stories to frighten her away after all she’d
experienced. Besides, she couldn’t help but notice that the circus people were
laughing and working together. Some were even singing! She failed to sense any
wickedness, especially after she’d learned that real beasts could hide in her
own home. It was unlikely, she decided, that truly evil people would display
their traits for the world to marvel at—and charge an entry fee to do so. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Her feet moved
ever faster as she gained momentum down the hill, her only focus on reaching
the circus camp. Beyond that, she had few plans and nothing to offer. No one
seemed to take notice, at first, of the stranger in their midst. Then, one by
one, eyes strayed from their tasks and toward her. Motions grew slower,
conversations stopped, and the quiet slowly set in. Her footsteps, thudding
over grass and gravel, grew louder with each step. She squared her shoulders
and lifted the crown of her head skyward as she felt the heat of a hundred
stares following her every move. Still, she remained focused, staring straight
ahead at her goal: the carriage, nearest the engine, flagged with the brightest
red banner and marked in bold yellow lettering. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brooks and Bennet Circus—Come One, Come All.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She was inches
from reaching for the handle when the door swung open, seemingly of its own
accord, and a rail-thin man nearly seven feet tall strolled out. “What the
blazes has got you all tongue-tied all of a sudden? I can hear your peace and
quiet all the way in here!” He laughed to himself, then stopped when he spotted
her. “Oh. I see.” For the first time in her life she had to wonder what,
exactly, he was looking at as he stood before her, his head tilting sideways
toward his slumped left shoulder to get a better angle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Any other time,
she’d have known exactly what he was looking at. Golden hair pinned up in the
front, with long, tight curls flowing down her back. Naturally rosy cheeks
highlighting a flawless complexion and bright green eyes sparkling under the
sunlight. Her whole life she’d never left her room unless she was impeccably
dressed. This was most certainly not the case today as she stood there in her
housekeeper’s rags. Nevertheless, she held her head high and waited patiently
while the man assessed her. His tan skin bore scars all around his arms,
visible where the sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up. His clothes fit
awkwardly due to his height, and the only item that looked entirely in place
was the blue linen cap he wore. It hid what was left of his graying hair. Laugh
lines were well worn into his leathery skin. The silver shadow of hair reaching
around his mouth and down his neck, proof he hadn’t shaved in at least a day or
two, wasn’t able to hide how his thin mouth twitched at the corners, always
threatening to break into a smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Then, a sadness
darkened his narrow blue eyes as he reached one lanky arm up to stroke his
stubbled jaw. “You have a name then, love?” he asked with a tenderness that
surprised her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She cleared her
throat, remembering the absence of her voice. It took several attempts, but she
found the words she needed. Her answer rattled on a long, desperate breath she
feared would suffocate her if she didn’t release it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Annis, sir.
Annis Josephine Watson.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She breathed in.
Her chest felt light. Her heart beat steadily. And just like that, five simple
words had brought her back to life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_Hlk4673621"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Chapter
Two<o:p></o:p></span></b></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk4673621;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">COME
ONE COME ALL<o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk4673621;"></span>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I need a job, sir,” Annis said, her voice
getting stronger with every syllable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“I imagine you
do,” he said, nodding at her pitiful appearance. “Imagine you could also do
with a bit of water.” He pulled the canteen he wore strapped over his left
shoulder up over his head and handed it to her. “Go on then, have it,” he
insisted when she didn’t take it. “Only just refilled it, so there’s plenty.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Annis was torn.
She’d gone without a drink for so long, she hardly remembered what thirst felt
like. Though she knew her body was desperate for fluids, her less rational
thoughts forbade her from accepting such a gift so easily. Kindness aside, he
was a stranger and her trust in people was sparse these days. Everyone had an
agenda. No one gave anything for nothing. Not even water. Not when she so clearly
needed it. It would be too easy to use against her later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“I’m alright,
thank you,” she said, pushing the canteen away. Maybe the days alone with her
overwrought mind and terrorized thoughts had made her paranoid, but she
couldn’t chance it. Anything she received from here on out, she would earn.
There would be no risk of blackmail or unpaid debts left for someone to collect
on. “I’m not looking for handouts. I want work.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The man shook his
head, his eyes narrowed as though he were attempting to sort out his own
thoughts about her but was coming up short. “What you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">need</i> is water. You take it, you see to yourself, and then we’ll
talk about your wants, understood?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Annis opened her
mouth to argue a second time but was met with a silent warning in the man’s
steely glare she understood she’d do well to heed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“How much?” she
asked, strength waning from her voice even as she set to strike her own terms for
the exchange. Her mind, ever alert, took note of her body’s evident betrayal
and cursed herself for her weakness. “For the water. How much will it cost?”
She hadn’t a penny to her name, but at least the number would set her debt
before she accumulated it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“You’ve only just
shown up and you’re already a right pain in my arse, you know that?” the man
said with a snort, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and index finger, a move
she knew all too well from her mother, who had never hesitated to let Annis know
when she was cuing the next migraine with what she called Annis’s insipid
conversations and foolish behavior. “We don’t charge for water here, love. It’s
not the sort of business we’re in. You want to pay me, you come see the show.
I’ll charge you any night of the week for that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“But,” her mouth
hung open, her arguments running thin. With little left to counter with, she
ran her tongue over her lower lip, stalling for time. She felt the sandpaper
skin of her own mouth. Her hand went up to touch it, only to find it was not
only rough and cracked, but dry as the desert in the midday sun. Not even her
tongue held moisture anymore. At last, she surrendered to his offer, taking the
canteen and moving it up to her lips without another word.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She drank. Cold
water flooded her throat, awakening everything within, sending an icy rush
through her chest and down to her belly. Gulp after gulp, the liquid moved
through her. Within moments she’d emptied the entire canteen, leaving her more
aware of her thirst than she’d been before even tasting a sip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The man smiled
oddly at her, reminding Annis of the way she used to peer at baby chicks when
they first hatched out in the hen house. They were awkward and strange looking
at first, but curious and sweet all the same. She couldn’t decide if she took
offense to his expression or not. He took the canteen from her before she came
to a conclusion either way. “We’ll get more. Just let it settle for a moment or
it’ll turn your stomach.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She nodded,
wiping the spilled water from where it had dribbled down to her chin. “About
the job,” she began again, determined to make a case for herself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“You ever done
any work like this?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She began to say
an adamant yes, but then reconsidered the lie. “I’ve performed.” She tried to
hide her shaking hands by pulling the loose strands of hair away from her face
and back over her shoulder. She regretted the move at once. The man raised his
brows to meet the rim of his blue cap. The line of his mouth pulled in toward
the center and stopped just short of a frown at the sight of her now fully
exposed face, which she knew was likely covered in dirt and blood. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“How old are
you?” he asked, his eyes narrow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Twenty, sir,”
she said, swallowing. Though lying had never come easily to her, this wasn’t
the first lie she’d told the man. Somehow the first one had come naturally. The
words just came out of her mouth without forethought. Maybe they were my last
remaining truth, she thought.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">At last he
smirked, lifting his brows and straightening his shoulders. “Well, we can
pretend I believe that.” He chuckled softly. “Come along, then.” He gave her a
nod and began to walk past her toward the workers who’d resumed their tasks.
Some of them tended to animals, others flitted about with an abundance of props
and costumes nearly flowing from their grasps as they flew past. The bulk of
the crew carried on setting up the circus tent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Wait. Are you
giving me a job?” she asked, almost afraid to believe her good fortune. “You’re
letting me stay? Just like that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“It’s the circus,
love. No one comes to stay except me and Babe, but you can come along for the
ride as long as you wish and get off when you’ve had enough.” He glanced back
at her over his shoulder, winking. “You say you’ve performed?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Yes. Yes, sir.”
Her stride was half the length of his and her tired legs fought to keep his
pace. “I’ve been a dancer from the time I was four, sir.” He stopped abruptly
and Annis nearly collided with him. He turned to face her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Before this goes
any further, we need to clear something up, love,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Annis braced
herself for his next words. She knew it had been too easy. There would be
strings attached to the job. Her mind began to race through all the despicable
deeds she’d be forced to participate in. Thievery. Fraud. The imaginary list
grew longer as she considered the ways in which one could be forced to collude
in schemes of lawless greed and deceit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“It’s Hugh,” he
said, catching her completely off guard with the simplicity of his words. “Not
sir. Not mister.” His tone was calm but stern, with a slight emphasis on the
labels he eschewed. “Just Hugh. Or Poppy, when you get comfortable.” He tilted
his head, brows furrowed, but his eyes still twinkled. “Are we clear?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She nodded. And then
she shook her head. She decided it was likely she was delirious from
exhaustion, delusional from dehydration, and just plain slow from being
starved, but she was also certain that nothing was clear. He was the
ringmaster, was he not? Calling him “sir” seemed more appropriate, given his
role, than simply Hugh or, God forbid, Poppy. “I’m sorry?” was all she could
say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“That car there,”
he explained, pointing his long, bony finger to where they’d just met. “It’s
got my name on it right along with Babe’s. Not because this is our business but
because it’s our family. Our home.” He hunched down closer to her and spoke more
softly. “We never set out to run a circus, love. We ran away, and the circus
found us. Same as you. Same as everyone you see here. You want to work here,
you’re welcome to any job that needs doing. You’ll have your cut of the night’s
take every show you’re here for, same as everyone else. And we all get an equal
share. Even me. Even Babe. And we don’t get called fussy things like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sir</i>. Or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mister</i>. Not me. Definitely not Babe.” Annis began to nod her head,
still not fully comprehending this unexpected turn in her newfound salvation
but eager to please in order to keep it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Alright, then,”
he said, smiling. “Onward.” He turned, stretching his fist out to lead the way
straight into the nearest huddle of people, who were all working together to
string up the massive tarp of the tent and preparing to mount it over the poles
that were already in place. Annis gaped at the sight of men and women of all
ages and colors, working together as equals, tackling tasks she imagined must
be done in complete unison. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“They’ll just be
a minute,” Hugh said, glancing back and forth between her and the workers,
amusement dancing in his eyes at her state of awe. And though her gaze stayed
with the display before her, her mind engaged in a grand game of ping pong,
thoughts flying back and forth between the men and women at work and the
strange but kind man standing beside her. What must he be thinking of her and
the pitiful state she was in, the obvious lies she had told? He had to have had
some thoughts about those. And, given his clear skills of observation, they
likely weren’t far off. Surely, he’d deduced she was a runaway. He probably
wondered if she was hiding from the law. If so, what did he imagine her guilty
of? Stealing? Most likely. How many crimes could she really have pursued
successfully beyond petty theft? Nothing about her frail and bedraggled body
suggested she was physically capable of causing harm to anything larger than a
garden snake. Or what about arson? Maybe he thought her to be some sort of
firebug. That could even have been the reason he’d let her stay. A knack for
playing with flames would probably come in handy around the circus. Alas, the
longer she entertained the notion, the more she reconsidered what he was truly
looking at when he saw her. Long wispy hair, hardly suitable for being around
open flames. Her pasty, pale skin now bore marks that could only imply a
massacre of sorts had taken place. But even underneath the dried blood and
layers of dirt, the softness of her skin still gave evidence of a girl who,
until quite recently, had never suffered more than a needle prick, let alone a
burn. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">More obvious than
anything else, she thought, was her cowardice. The meek way in which she
carried herself, light footed and hesitant in her every move. If she was perfectly
honest with herself, Annis knew no one would ever count her as a scoundrel. She
was running, certainly, but not because she’d sought out trouble. That the
trouble had sought her would be clear to anyone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She dared a
sideways glance in Hugh’s direction. He was polite enough to pretend not to
notice, even if the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away.
Whatever he thought of her, it couldn’t be all bad. More importantly, she was
starting to think all the bad she’d thought about him, and the likes of those
who found themselves drawn to the circus, couldn’t be all true either. If there
was even a kernel of truth to any of it at all. Her gaze shifted back toward
the scene unfolding before her and she finally registered what Hugh had said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Just a minute,”
she echoed his last words dryly, her mind still stuck somewhere between
disbelief and a growing acceptance that anything was possible as she took in
the scene before her. “Who am I to doubt anything?” Annis wondered to herself.
As if on cue, the tent rose from the ground on someone’s count of three and
began to glide smoothly over its skeleton of poles and beams. Within a matter
of moments, the entire structure was secure and Annis was standing in front of
a magnificent display of bright red and yellow stripes. Thick golden trim
marked the seams of the canvas and matching tassels dangled at each point of
the structure. Scarlet flags marked the highest peaks, each flapping in the
breeze. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Wow,” she
breathed. She hadn’t yet noticed the crowd forming around her, composed of
people eager to meet the newcomer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Annis,” Hugh
said. When she didn’t react, he said it a second time. “Annis?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">This time she
registered the sound of her name and her cheeks reddened. “Oh.” Now that she
was facing everyone, she saw just how much the differences between them spanned
the spectrum. Men and women, young and old. Some freakishly tall, others
surprisingly small. Women with short hair. Men with long. Large men. Some made
up of muscle, some not. The only thing they all had in common was that there
was something entirely unexpected in each of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Whether he was
unaware of her momentary shock or had expected such a reaction, Hugh never let
on. He simply carried on as though everything were normal. Perhaps such a scene
would be less surprising to young women who had led less sheltered lives. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Nodding to his
left at the person nearest to him, Hugh began, “Annis, this is Babe. She’s the
Bennet of Brooks and Bennet Circus.” Hugh grinned and reached out to embrace a
stout, jolly looking man with a massive beard and long curly, blond hair that
was tied together in a loose, thick braid draped over his shoulder. Babe wore
flowing garments that resembled a dress and reached his ankles. He took Annis’s
hand and curtsied. “Annis, you adorable tulip. I just want to hug and kiss you.
May I?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Oh, okay,” Annis
said as Babe squeezed her into a rib-crushing hug that brought her to tears—not
from pain, but from the emotional overwhelm at the display of such affection
from a complete stranger. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“You’ll be safe
here, Tulip,” Babe whispered, cheek pressed to her ear. “Don’t you worry about
a thing. Babe’ll get you washed up and patched up in no time,” he promised in a
voice that sounded neither masculine nor feminine, and which Annis could only
describe as maternal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She sighed,
melting into the tight embrace, and allowed herself just a moment of peace
before untangling herself from his welcoming arms. “Thank you,” Annis mumbled
as she stepped back. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“I know Babe will
be fussing over you just as soon as she gets you out of here,” Annis heard a
woman’s voice say from somewhere in the center of the crowd that now formed a
nearly complete circle around where she stood. Annis was too focused on Babe
being referred to as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she</i> to identify
the speaker right away. When she did, she noticed the woman was older than Hugh
and Babe, with smooth dark skin that reminded Annis of her father’s morning
coffee. The woman wore her black hair in tight twists that snaked the sides of
her head until they met to form a knotted bun. Never had Annis met a woman who
commanded such presence. She spoke in a rough, brash voice, with both hands
fisted and set high on her waist. “When she sets you free, you come find Momma
T. I do all the cookin’ ‘round here, and you, girl, look like you ain’t eaten in
days.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">It was mostly
true. Annis had eaten, though what she’d consumed could barely qualify as food.
“Thank you, ma’a—” She stopped mid-word when Hugh shook his head at her, one
brow arched, indicating she ought to know better by now. “—Momma T,” she corrected
with a meek smile at the woman who, unlike Babe, seemed to house no motherly
bone in her body. Annis thought it was a stretch even to call Momma T friendly,
with her squared shoulders, thin lips, and heavy-lidded eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Don’t you worry
none,” a chipper voice said from Annis’s lower left. “Momma T’s only scary ‘til
you taste her beans and cornbread.” Annis’s eyes followed her ears until they
landed on a man with messy, walnut-colored hair poking out in all directions
beneath his frayed gray cap. He came up just below her hip, though he looked
slightly older than she was. His sprite-like eyes met hers. He smiled like he
knew exactly what she’d been thinking and had maybe even been waiting for her
to finish her thought before he carried on. “Her food is where she keeps her
heart. You’ll see.” He grinned, reaching his hand out to her. “Name’s Sawyer.
Most folks call me Sawyer Smalls, or Smalls for short.” He paused, his eyes
twinkling with delight at his own joke. “See what I did there?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Annis nodded,
unsure if it was in good taste to laugh. Instead, she took his hand and shook
it politely. “Annis. It’s lovely to meet you.” His grasp was stronger than
she’d expected. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Give it a week,”
he said. “Then you’ll know better.” He winked, releasing her hand. This time,
she let out a spontaneous giggle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Right, then,”
Hugh chimed in impatiently, placing both hands on his hips and giving a
disapproving glare around the circle, which had lost some of its order due to
the recent introductions. “If I’d known you’d all turn this into a bloody
pre-show production, I’d have just called out everyone’s name in passing and
pointed.” A rash of amused muttering erupted from the crowd, but they obliged
his implied request for order and lined up shoulder to shoulder. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Once they were
settled, he continued. “Alright, we haven’t got all day to do this, so I’ll go
‘round. I’ll say your name and you raise your hand, smile, curtsy, or do a
ruddy headstand, for all I care. Just identify yourself and then let me move it
along.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">He reached his
long arm out and took Annis’s shoulder. “Come stand here, love,” he said,
directing her to an overturned bucket on the ground nearby. “Get up high so you
can see everyone.” Annis did as she was told, and Hugh began rattling off
names. They were claimed, one by one, by someone in the crowd.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Mabel. Maude.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">There was a brief
interlude for Annis to spot them. She noticed they not only had identical raven
hair and alabaster skin, but also their hips were fused together below the
waist so that one twin was always on the left and the other always on the
right. They wore a garment made from two conjoined dresses that were tailored
for their needs. Both women waved, smiling as they welcomed her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Margaret. Oscar.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">A woman and man,
both nearly as round as Hugh was tall, stepped forward ever so slightly, and
the man’s protruding belly bumped into the woman in front of him, making her
laugh as she jumped forward to keep from falling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“And that there’s
Bess. She’s our tightrope walker. Everyone’s always trying to make her fall,
see. Just for fun, of course. ’Cause it can’t be done,” Hugh said before quickly
continuing his roll call before the crowd lost all order again. By the time he
finished, Annis had met trapeze artists Della and Leo; Homer, who could juggle
anything from plates to balls of fire; Floyd, an albino man in his seventies;
August, who claimed to be the strongest man alive; and Caroline, a red-haired woman
with an unusual capacity to bend and contort herself. Caroline really did do a
headstand to introduce herself, except she’d taken Hugh’s invitation literally
and, once in an inverted position, bent her feet back until she was actually
standing on her own head. Annis met Francis and Will, who did the heavy lifting
for Brooks and Bennet. They were on the run from the authorities for their many
thieving transgressions. Then there was Lila, Etta, and Viola, a lovely singing
trio who were all sisters born to a slave mother and privileged father, both of
whom had been executed for their affair. By the time Hugh stopped spouting off
names, Annis was dizzy from the volume of information, as well as the oddity of
it all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She was about to
ask if there was a place where she could perhaps get another drink of water and
a brief moment of solitude to gather her wits when Babe said, “Wait! She hasn’t
met Sequoyah. Where is that boy, anyway? Now that I’m thinking about it, I
don’t recall seeing him at all today.” Babe seemed worried as she looked past
the group to scan the valley beyond.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Something
spooked the horses last night. He took off after them,” said Will, the younger
and burlier of the two tag-along thieves. “He’ll turn up, Babe. Don’t you
worry. He always does.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Hugh wrapped his
arm over Babe’s shoulders, curling his wrist around her neck and leaning down
to tell her, softly, “He’s right, you know. Sequoyah knows what he’s doing. You
go on and get Annis settled and I’m sure he’ll turn up just as soon as you stop
looking.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Babe sighed, her
shoulders sagging. “That boy’s going to have his name on my every last worry
line by the time I’m old and wrinkled.” She took another deep breath and shook
loose her broad shoulders. A timid smile returned to her face, restoring the
kindness to it that Annis was already used to from her. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Her</i>. The female pronoun for Babe seemed equal parts odd and
appropriate. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Alright, Tulip.
How about we start with getting you a drink of water? You must be absolutely
parched,” Babe said. She smiled, but Annis noticed her eyes held a dim of worry
as she carried on without so much as expecting a response. “And then let’s see
if we can find the real girl hiding under all of this dirt and distress.” Annis
was tempted to tell her the real girl would never be found, no matter how much
Babe scrubbed the tarnished shell in which she lived now, but she held her
tongue and simply nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Babe glanced over
her shoulder, scanning the stragglers. Will was only just turning away when she
called out to him, “Will, be a dear and fill the tub in my tent, would you?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Will stopped on a
dime and tipped his head in her direction. “I’m on it, Babe.” He was back in
motion before finishing his sentence and disappeared behind a cluster of circus
equipment Annis couldn’t begin to identify.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">While everyone
else went back to work preparing for that night’s show, Annis followed Babe
with shaky steps as her adrenaline released its final surges. Annis’s mind
still lagged from trying to process her new surroundings and the lovely,
strange, extraordinary people who occupied them. She kept her head down as she
walked behind Babe, forcing herself to keep her eyes on the only familiar sight
in her vicinity: the dirt beneath her feet. When they’d arrived at a small tent
that extended out from one of the train’s cars, the swish of fabric drew her
attention back upward. Babe held back a bundle of violet satin that served as a
door and used her free hand to gesture for Annis to step inside. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Inside the tent,
lanterns hung from a multitude of hooks attached to every pole, support beam,
and other available structure in sight. A different colored satin sheet adorned
each wall in a delightful rainbow of deepest plum, light rose, earthy sage, and
cornflower blue. Standing in the center of the tent was a vanity, complete with
a large mirror and basin filled with clear water and fresh wash rags. Beautiful
gowns of silk and lace were strung up from one corner to another like dancing
maidens standing shoulder to shoulder in a fabulous kick line. Annis felt
dreamy as she looked around Babe’s colorful oasis, filled with all the riches
she’d likely collected on her travels. Handmade quilts hung draped over a
rustic wooden bench, strange paintings and sculptures like nothing Annis had
ever seen before were scattered about, some leaning against furniture, some
displayed from hooks nailed into the tent poles. Quiet music hummed in the
background and everywhere her eyes touched she saw color. Babe seemed to have
an affinity for flowers. The small space was littered with vases, small and
large, some luxurious crystal, some no more than an empty can that was once
used for beans. Each one was filled with a different collection of wildflowers,
all at varying stages of their life cycle. While some were freshly picked, with
tight cusps still waiting to bloom, others had long since seen their days of
blossoming and been left to live in glory forever, dried and dead, though still
perfectly intact. Together they all emitted the loveliest potpourri, which
wrapped Annis in the sweetest symphony of scents. However, she was certain she
must really be dreaming, or maybe hallucinating—which was certainly possible,
considering her exhaustion and dehydration— when her gaze landed on a hammock,
in which sat a very large, striped cat. Though she’d never seen one before,
Annis was certain it was a tiger. She had seen many a house cat—and this was no
house cat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Magnificent,
isn’t he?” Babe said, admiration shining from her eyes as she looked at the
giant feline. “Can you believe someone thought it wise to keep him chained in a
cage? A beautiful creature like this?” She shook her head and furrowed her
brow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“He’s not…” Annis
paused, not wanting to say anything offensive to Babe, who had been nothing but
kind despite Annis’s suspicious, sudden arrival and unkempt appearance.
“…Dangerous?” She wasn’t sure why she was asking. Massive though he was, he was
also majestic. He carried a sage wisdom in his aura that left Annis feeling
more drawn to him than fearful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Basileus?
Dangerous?” Babe laughed heartily. “Not in the least. I think you’ll find most
creatures, big and small, will respond according to how you treat them. You
show them respect, they’ll respect you in return. You love them, honor them,
care for them, and the loyalty returned to you will abound.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Basileus,” Annis
whispered his name, the feel of it on her tongue making her smile. It was
unlike any name she’d heard before. “What does it mean?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“It’s means
‘king’ in Greek,” Babe answered. “Suits him, don’t you think?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Very much,” she
agreed, still unable to take her eyes off the tiger who seemed unperturbed by
their intrusion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Of course, you’d
never have known by the sight of him when we first found him,” Babe said,
reminiscing out loud. “His coat was dull and matted with bare spots where the
shackles had rubbed him raw and bloody. Skin and bones, he was. Refused to eat
in the state they kept him in. Hugh wasn’t sure it’d be humane to keep him
going, the way he was. Said he was too far gone. Had given up. But then,” she
paused, touching Annis lightly on the arm to draw her attention. “His eyes.
They told us. He’d seen things. Terrible things. All the worst the world had to
offer…” she trailed off. “But,” she continued, “he was still there. Alive. On
fire. Wild with an unbridled courage, as though he knew they’d done all they
could to him, and he’d survived anyway.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“He hadn’t given
up,” Annis whispered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Never.” Babe
gave her a bittersweet smile. “The wild ones never do.” She began to turn away
but Annis stopped her by touching her arm, grazing ever so lightly with her
fingertips, surprised she’d been bold enough to reach out at all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Babe?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Yes, Tulip.” It
wasn’t a question. “Your eyes tell it too,” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">A warm wave of
gratitude swept through Annis. She knew Babe would never ask to know the worst
of what Annis had seen before finding herself here in this unexpected oasis of
salvation. Annis, who’d spent her first life an invisible bystander, a mere
shadow hidden in the tapestries of life, had come back a girl who could be
seen, a girl whose eyes told stories she hoped her mouth would never have to
repeat. Maybe it would be the death of them, or maybe those stories would live
on, trapped inside her. All she knew for now was that they wouldn’t stop her
from having hope anymore. There would be new life after the old. And in this
one, she would do more than simply serve as a lovely backdrop in someone else’s
story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Why don’t you
have a seat right here,” Babe said, indicating with her hand that Annis should
sit at the vanity. “We can start by undoing the mess in your hair while we wait
for Will to finish preparing the tub.” Annis did as she was told while Babe
turned away to fetch the water she had promised. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The vanity chair
was made of a soft, comfortable, purple velvet. Annis struggled to keep her
eyes open. “You just relax and let me take care of things,” Babe said, seeing
Annis’s efforts to stay awake as she placed a full glass in front of her. But
Annis was unable to surrender to her exhaustion, no matter how heavy her lids
or how achy her body. Her mind, still wired for survival, would not allow it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She clung to
conscious thought but let her eyes rest, dropping their lids halfway. A sliver
of light was all her mind needed to illuminate her rambling trains of thought
about tigers and bearded men in dresses, about sisters whose two bodies lived
as one, about men who were unusually tall and others who were unusually tiny,
about strong men and large men, about women who’d been shunned by society for
being something other than timid or chaste or white. What did those supposed
virtues matter if you could command a crowd? If you could dance across a
tightrope, certain you would never fall? If you could sing or fly or bend
beyond the fear of breaking? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Annis was told
all her life that she had lived in the presence of greatness, of remarkable and
important people. After meeting this band of circus misfits who inspired awe
and wonder wherever they went, however, she questioned affixing such grand
labels to the people she had known before. What had they ever offered the world
besides judgement, snobbery, and division? Rare had a been a kind word, yet
they were all quick to point out differences as unacceptable flaws of inferior
folks. Never once had she witnessed a welcome quite like the one that she’d
received here. A stranger, unannounced with nothing to offer would never have
been invited in by any of those men and women she’d known before. Annis saw
nothing great or remarkable in that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Mind ablaze with
exciting new truths, her squinting gaze slipped along the lanterns near the
opening of the tent just as Will was lifting the corner of a satin sheet to
poke his scruffy, red-haired head inside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Tub’s filled,
Babe. You ready for it?” The sound of his voice brought her mind back into the
present.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“I do believe we
are,” Babe answered, placing a handful of pins onto the vanity in front of
Annis, who reached up to touch her hair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“You untangled
it?” she asked, combing her fingers through the long, wavy strands. Only this
morning she’d been certain she would have to cut the mass of matted knots from
it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“We’ll give it a
good wash and it’ll be soft and shiny again in no time,” Babe assured her,
gently squeezing Annis by the shoulders and helping her out of the velvet
chair. “You’ll find a dressing gown just inside there.” Babe oriented Annis’s
shoulders in the direction of the train car attached to the tent. “Give Will a
minute to set everything up in here and then you can come back for your bath.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Annis started
toward the car to get undressed, then hesitated. “Am I really going to take a
bath with Babe in the tent?” she wondered to herself. “Am I going to let a man
help me wash?” Dress or otherwise, Annis was convinced that underneath it all
he wasn’t really a she at all. He felt like one, though, and maybe that was
enough to accept him as such. As if Babe could sense her concerns, she added,
“I’ll be waiting outside myself. Give me a shout when you’re under the suds and
I’ll be in to help with whatever you need.” Annis nodded, grateful to her. Her.
Babe was a her, whether Annis could form the right thoughts to explain it to
herself or not. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The train car
door, unlike every other part of the tent, was hard and heavy, made of solid
wood with a metal frame. For a moment, Annis struggled to garner the strength
to close it. Her first instinct was to ask for help. Her second, much stronger
impulse denied that instinct. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed her fists as
tightly as she could, channeling every last bit of strength she had in her, and
then, with both hands, she pushed, sliding the door back into place. It had
barely shut behind Annis when she heard the squeaking tires of a wagon rolling
into the tent. Then she heard wooden slats sliding over each other in a smooth
motion, followed by a light thump and water splashing. Will was preparing the
bath water. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She closed her
eyes and took a breath, inhaling the scent of lavender and peppermint, both of
which had been freshly picked and placed in small vases on a table near the
door. The car itself was hardly furnished. Aside from the table, there was a
small bench along one side and a makeshift curtain hung across the corner to
create a space for dressing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">As she made her
way to the dressing corner, her feet felt light —not numb or tingly, but as
though the weight of her soul wasn’t fully tethered to her body. Maybe it
hasn’t settled on living over dying just yet, she thought. Or maybe it’s
starting to return after abandoning me in that river. Or maybe it’s detached
itself and will never fully fall back into place. Light footsteps—that’s all
I’m capable of anymore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She untied the
belt of her coat as she pondered the meaning of her bodily sensations,
surprised that the lightness of her feet concerned her more than the emptiness
of her stomach. Her fingertips slid gingerly over the dress’s buttons, undoing
each as she went until she felt the rough linen begin to glide from her skin
and down her body. Stepping out of the heavy skirt, Annis reached for the
dressing gown suspended from a hook an arm’s length away. The gown was soft
against her, which she relished after the harsh conditions of recent days. She
hung her clothes on the same hook and then, opening the door just a crack, she
checked that Will had left the tent before making her way back inside to take
her bath.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Chapter Three<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">THE RIDER<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">After
she emerged from having her bath, Annis’s skin felt smooth and soft except for
the parts now scabbed and calloused by the days spent wandering the wilderness.
Stepping out of Babe’s tent, taking in the sunlight and fresh air, Annis
reveled in her new, fresh self. She now wore a pair of purple trousers, a
flashy red corset, and a short-sleeved white bodice, all freshly laundered and
gifted to her by Babe who’d insisted her previous ensemble was no longer fit
for wearing and thus would not be leaving her car on Annis’s body ever again.
Annis had been more than happy to agree with her in order to shed the last
layers of her past as she prepared to embrace her new future.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">More
important than the clothes she wore, though, were her light, wavy locks that
fell loose past her shoulders. Babe, unlike Annis’s mother, had refused to do
more than brush Annis’s blonde hair. Once confined to being pinned snug against
her scalp and curled into perfect ringlets, her hair had been set free by Babe,
who insisted the wind would know best what to do with it. She was right. Now it
shone gold in the sunlight and lifted on the breeze. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Babe
had told her exactly where to find Momma T and a proper meal, and yet Annis
wandered aimlessly, her arms light at her sides and her hair floating out
behind her. She took in all of the circus sights as she walked. To her left was
the train, composed of a mismatched collection of patchwork carts, many pieced
together from scrap metal and reclaimed lumber, then adorned with unexpected
details like stained glass windows and wildly colored doors. Babe had told her
all about the day she and Hugh had acquired the engine (“sheer luck alone,”
she’d said) while she’d been washing Annis’s hair. She’d gone on about how it
put an end to the years they’d spent traveling the country in a horse and
carriage caravan and Annis had soaked herself in the stories much like her
bath, allowing a temporary escape from reality. From the stories Annis learned
Hugh and Babe had continued to add carts based on need and ability, creating a
small but mighty train that had as much character as the passengers themselves.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">To
her right, Annis noticed a great deal had changed since her arrival. While
she’d soaked in the suds, everyone else had worked to complete and secure the
circus tent. It was hard to imagine the dazzling tent not standing there an
hour ago, and harder still to believe it would no longer stand there tomorrow.
Making her way around the massive structure, Annis passed by dainty Bess
rehearsing her number on a tightrope rigged only a few feet above the ground.
Bess moved over the rope—backwards and forwards and even jumping in pirouettes—as
gracefully as if she were dancing on solid ground. Annis continued to meander
around camp with her mouth agape, in awe of the gifted group that now
surrounded her. She listened as the three singing sisters all warmed up their
vocal chords, creating a rainbow of sound in which each voice echoed brighter
than the one preceding it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Then
the sound of many hooves thundering toward her snapped her out of her listening
trance. A herd of at least a half-dozen mustangs ran straight for the tent’s
opening, each one a different color, some painted in two or three. From snowy
white to charcoal black, and every shade of brown, from creamy blonde to warm chestnut,
the rich array coated their stunning muscular bodies in a velvety coat that
shimmered in the sunlight. Their long manes and tails flowed behind them. A
rider atop a pitch-black horse galloped in behind the herd. He used no reins or
saddle. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Annis
broke into a run to catch up with them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">A
wall of thick, hot air hit her as soon as she stepped inside the tent and
reminded her that summer was coming. It seemed odd, the recognition of season,
the return of time. She realized she’d expected to find all had passed faster
in her absence. And she had felt absent, secluded in the woods, in a universe
all to herself. It felt to her as though the world could have elapsed into
another year or another decade entirely. It hadn’t. The earth had spun at the same
speed it always had even though Annis’s experience of time had warped while in
isolation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Though
the horses had settled in the tent, the dust had not. It tickled her nose,
causing her to sneeze. She froze. The tent wasn’t nearly as empty as Annis had expected
and she wasn’t ready for any more attention today. She noticed Hugh, Will, and
Francis arranging the rows of benches for the audience later that night.
Nearby, Caroline’s bright red hair drew Annis’s attention. She watched as
Caroline bent over backward and curled into a human hoop, through which Homer
tossed knives and caught them as they arced back around to him. In the midst of
all this, no one noticed her sneeze. Annis sighed with relief and continued
deeper into the tent’s interior. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Still
sniffling from the sneeze, Annis twitched her nose back and forth, trying to
help ease the introduction of new scents that seemed to multiply the longer she
stood inside the tent. The sunbaked earth at her feet. Stale popcorn and
sweets. Fresh hay, and an unfamiliar musk she assumed came from the horses, who
now stood at the center of the ring. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Some
pawed at the ground while others paced. One even dropped into the dirt and
rolled around until his white coat turned a dark shade of grey. Its sheer
delight and the carefree ways in which it moved, with complete disregard to
cleanliness or propriety, were contagious and Annis giggled at the sight. She’d
read books about horses from the time she was old enough to read and daydreamed
about meeting one, but she had never been allowed to visit with them, let alone
to learn how to ride, even though her father had kept a stable at the edge of
their property. Only ballet had been deemed an appropriate pastime, according
to Annis’s mother, who’d loathed dirt and animals alike. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The
herd parted down the middle to make a path for the rider, now on his feet. The
young man, with skin tinted red by his ancestors and kissed golden by the sun,
wore his long black tresses braided in some small sections and falling loose in
others, with feathers and beads twisted throughout. Mischief rested on his dark
lips as he took in the herd around him. He took his steps slowly and with great
care to respect the space of each animal he passed. He engaged with each of
them along the way. A tender palm moving down the forehead, a firm pat on the
neck, a scratch above the withers. Quiet whispers and unspoken greetings as he
exchanged small bursts of breath in keeping with the horse’s natural means of
communicating. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Though
she understood the implications of staring at a young man, a young native man,
no less, Annis found it impossible to avert her eyes. Of all the displays of
human talent around her, Annis found the subtle ways in which this man and his
horses communicated the most impressive. A tap at one’s side, Annis noticed,
meant move along. A stroke down another’s muzzle prompted the horse to follow
him. Curiosity goaded her to approach the rider, to enter into the sacred
circle he shared with those mustangs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Sequoyah,”
Hugh called out, breaking Annis’s focus from the horses and their rider. She
watched the handsome stranger straighten his stance and peek above the herd
that still surrounded him. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” he said, a quiet laugh
rumbling behind his words. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Hugh
tried to hide a grin. “Just go tell her you’re back, would ya?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Sequoyah
nodded, still laughing. “Someone really ought to tell her I’m not eight
anymore.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“It
would break her heart and you know it!” Hugh yelled after him. “Who is she
going to fuss over when she realizes you’re not her little boy anymore?”
Sequoyah didn’t respond but hurried from the tent in search of Babe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Meanwhile,
the work of setting up benches continued.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“I
don’t know,” Francis muttered just loud enough to be heard, hoisting up a thick
slab of wood and dropping it down onto several stumps to create more seating.
“Babe’s got Annis now. I think someone could let it slip Sequoyah grew up a few
years back. Even if she missed it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Will
laughed. “She’d never accept it. Besides, I don’t think Annis is going to need
her all that long. Bit of sleep, and some proper food, I have a feeling we’ll
be seeing a completely different girl come morning.” He nodded at Francis to
pick up the next slab and they bent down in unison. “Might be time to consider
getting Babe a puppy, Hugh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Right,
so Basileus can eat it. Great idea, Will.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Annis’s
mouth folded into a smile, amused by Hugh’s candor. A puppy and a tiger likely
weren’t the most ideal combination where pets were concerned. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Conscious
of not drawing any unwanted attention, Annis quietly began to tiptoe her way
back toward the opening of the tent when she took note of shuffling feet moving
behind her. Her mind instantly alert, she scanned the area until she saw Floyd,
the elderly man whose pale complexion reminded her of powdered sugar and whose
pink eyes made it hard to look away even as they bore into her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She
felt suddenly desperate for an escape. He’s harmless, she reminded herself.
Whatever his appearance might have suggested to her, he had done nothing to
deserve her fear or judgement and she did her best to hide every trace of her
discomfort as he approached.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Mustering
a smile, she watched as he came to a standstill before her. He wore a strange
expression. His eyes, though locked on her, were staring straight through her,
as though he could see things others couldn’t. The oddest part was, Annis
thought, the way his mouth barely moved while he muttered under his breath, as
though speaking in tongues. Without saying an audible word to Annis directly,
he took her hand and turned her palm upright. He then stroked it gently with
the rough tips of his fingers and placed a small, black stone at the center of
it. He folded her fingers around it as his pink eyes turned red. Annis felt his
gaze become present.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“For
protection,” he wheezed, struggling for his voice, “so he can’t find you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">His
attention drifted as quickly as it had come, and his feet resumed their shuffle
away from Annis, who stood frozen by fear. “How had he known?” she wondered to
herself. “He couldn’t have. It simply isn’t possible.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">She
opened her hand to peer down at the stone he’d given her. Part of her wanted to
throw it as far and as hard as she could. The other part wanted to believe it
could offer her what he’d promised. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Protection</i>.
She shook her head, letting her hand fall at her side. Her fingers uncurled
until the small stone rolled from her grasp and into the dirt at her feet. It wasn’t
real. The old man was grasping at straws, speculating about her past, probably
like all the others were. Annis closed her eyes and forced her thoughts to
believe the words she was feeding them. She was safe. No one knew. And the old
man was just that, an old man, and likely a senile one, at that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Annis
gave up all efforts of being quiet as she hurried out of the tent, desperate
for fresh air and the freedom of open sky overhead. Her heart raced in her
chest as dirt and gravel crunched under the soles of her new boots. Even once
outside, she found it hard to breathe. Still, she kept moving aimlessly through
camp, yearning for distance from the encounter with Floyd. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Whoa,
there! Slow down, girl. You almost missed my tent,” Momma T said as she walked
straight toward Annis, bringing her to an abrupt halt. She wiped her hands
clean on her apron and said, “Cornbread is golden brown and piping hot. Fresh
churned butter will melt the second the two touch. It’ll never taste any better
than it does right now.” When Annis didn’t react, Momma T waved her closer,
taking a few more steps in her direction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Girl,
you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, frowning. “Now, I don’t know what
it is that’s got you spooked but I can guarantee you, there ain’t nothin’ in
camp to be scared of. And everythin’ outside of camp is too scared to come in
and find out.” She smirked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Annis
couldn’t help but grin back at her. She knew Momma T was right. She’d heard the
harsh words people used to describe those who traveled with the circus.
Coldhearted misfits touched in the head. The sort who’d toss you off the train
just as soon as they’d throw you in a lion pen. Now she regretted ever
believing a single one of them because Annis was sure these people had just
kept her from dying in the wilderness, even though she was a complete stranger
to them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“It’s
just…I don’t think I can be who people think I am,” Annis said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Momma
T crossed her arms, her brow furrowed in concern. “And who do you think people
believe you to be?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Someone
who can be saved,” she whispered, hardly able to bear the words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Momma
T nodded slowly, her stern mouth growing tender on her rigid face as she
stepped in closer. She draped one arm around Annis’s shoulders, her hand
curling in around Annis’s neck as she tucked her head down to touch their
foreheads together. “I’m gonna tell you a secret. We’re all beyond saving. But
we still found our salvation the second we set foot inside this circus and saw
our broken, battered souls mirrored back to us in every face already inside.
Here, the rest of the world doesn’t get to decide who you are or what you
should be. The tarnished, the shunned, can rise to reach the spotlight and do
so to roaring applause. The very people who would not approve of you, who
foolishly believe they can break you, wind up in awe of you. That’s the power
of the circus. That’s the freedom you find when you no longer allow yourself to
be demeaned or attacked by the small-minded standards of an easily frightened
society. Being saved, being worthy of saving, no longer looks the same.” Her
dark brown eyes rested on Annis’s for a long time. “It’s not us who’s wrong.
It’s you. You’ll see.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Then
Momma T released Annis from her steady grip and gave her a nudge with one bony
elbow and added, “Come on, cornbread won’t stay warm forever and I have to get
another batch going before showtime.” Annis’s stomach growled as if on cue. She
clutched her belly and turned red with embarrassment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Hunger
ain’t nothing to feel shame for,” Momma T said sternly, gesturing for her to
hurry up. “Turning down perfectly good food? Now that’s another story.” Annis
didn’t argue and fell into step beside Momma T as they made their way into the
large emerald colored tent that served as a dining hall. Beyond the massive
green tarp was a makeshift kitchen, complete with serving station. Annis could
hardly believe her eyes as she took it all in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“It
smells divine,” Annis said, inhaling deeply through her nose and sighing to
exhale. She couldn’t remember the last real food she’d eaten. You don’t tend to
savor things you don’t know are the last you’ll have, she thought, and you
don’t tend to know they’re the last you’ll have until it’s too late. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“It
better smell heavenly,” Momma T said, “because I must have said about a hundred
‘Oh, Lord Jesuses’ when I damn near burned my hand off making it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Annis’s
eyes widened and a chuckle rose in her throat. She wondered if she’d ever get
used to hearing the things that came out of Momma T’s mouth. She hoped not. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">After
a few spins around her makeshift kitchen, Momma T handed Annis a meal large enough
to feed ten people and sent her to the nearest table in the attached dining
area to begin her feast.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The
space wasn’t big, but it was well utilized, with banquet style tables and
benches lined up in neat rows. Annis counted four in all. She passed the first
table, dragging her fingertips over the surface. The wood was worn smooth. Patches
of emerald paint still clung to the panels in the places Annis imagined the
table saw less wear, down the center mostly, tiny remnants suggesting the
tables once matched the tent. The benches were built in a similar fashion,
mostly thick slabs of wood lined up and bolted down onto thick, solid legs. But
where the tables held small sentiments of green, the benches had once been
painted white.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Annis
walked until she found herself at the center of an otherwise empty dining hall
and took her seat. “Dig in,” Momma T called out, her back already turned as she
headed out to the fire with a fresh batch of cornbread ready to bake. “There’s
plenty more for seconds.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Thank
you,” Annis said, still taking in the feast plated before her. Her mouth
watered. She felt overwhelmed by the choice of what to eat first.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“I’d
start with the cornbread.” Annis glanced up at the sound of another voice, one
she recognized.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Hi,
Sawyer.” She smiled, pleased to have remembered his name.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">He
nodded, climbing up onto the bench across from her. “Take a big chunk and swipe
it straight through the beans. You’ll never taste anything better.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“If
you knew what I’ve been eating recently, you’d know anything would taste
better,” she said, but still took his advice. She wasn’t sorry she did. The
cornbread was perfectly crisp on the outside but soft to the touch. Annis
gripped the small piece with both hands and pulled it apart, a fresh burst of
steam erupting from the wonderfully fluffy inside. Even before she tasted it,
she could smell the sweet scent of honey and corn. Dutifully following Sawyer’s
orders, she took the smaller of two halves and slid it straight through the
beans, watching it soak in all the gravy before carefully guiding the cornbread
back to her mouth. Sweet and savory flavor erupted in waves of comfort inside
her mouth and slowly spread to her entire being. It was absolutely divine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Sauce
dripped down her chin as she took another bite, and then another, before she
could muster humming a sound of contentment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Sawyer
grinned. “Told ya.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“What,
you think this is a full-service establishment now?” Momma T said, placing
another meal on the table for Sawyer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“If
you’re willing to make it one,” he teased, going straight for his own square of
cornbread. “Thank you, Momma.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Yeah,
yeah,” she mumbled under her breath, already on to buttering another pan for
her next batch of cornbread.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Sawyer
leaned in closer so that only Annis could hear and whispered, “Don’t let her
fool ya. She serves everyone that sets foot in here. Trying to help yourself to
something from her kitchen will get you chased outta here with a wooden spoon.”
Then he looked up, over Annis’s shoulder. “Just ask Sequoyah. He knows all
about that,” Sawyer said, and then laughed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“What’s
that?” Sequoyah asked, walking toward their table. Annis had been oblivious that
he had entered, but she could now feel him move in closer beside her with an
overwhelming sense of awareness. She couldn’t bring herself to look, worried
she’d again be unable to turn her gaze away from him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Momma
and her spoon,” Sawyer answered him, chuckling as he picked up his fork and
tucked into his meal with more fervor than one would expect from someone not
much bigger than the pile of food on his plate. Sequoyah laughed. It was a
smooth, deep sound, hearty and unencumbered. The sound was so genuine, so
strangely familiar, and yet so thrillingly new that it made Annis’s stomach
flip with excitement.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“I
never was good at following rules,” he admitted. “That spoon has left a mark
across the back of my hand more than once.” He lowered himself onto the seat
beside Annis and she felt her chest tighten. Then he turned toward her, his
hand outstretched. Even out of the corner of her eye, she could see him smiling
at her. It was enough to flush her skin hot pink. “You must be Annis,” he said,
clearly oblivious to her current condition. She could feel the sweat pooling in
her palms. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“Hi,”
she said at last, moving her head in his direction ever so slightly and running
her hand up and down her thigh to dry it on the cotton of her trousers. “It’s a
pleasure to meet you.” Her gaze inched upward until her eyes met with his as
her palm landed in his waiting grip. She felt his fingers wrap around her hand,
sending a warm tingle down her arm and into the pit of her stomach, filling it
so that she forgot about her hunger. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Mesmerized
by the sheer beauty of his face and the endless kindness spilling from his dark
eyes down onto her, she stared at him. His own gaze never wavered from hers
until Sawyer cleared his throat, erasing the magic of their unspoken moment.
But it had been magic. Annis was as certain of that as she was of the truth that
she understood the instant they had averted their eyes. She and Sequoyah could
never do more than share the magic of that moment. It could never be more than
that. More would only lead to a target on his back. And no one else would die
on her account.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />
Want more? Get it <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Wild-her-Eyes-Karina-Gi%C3%B6rtz-ebook/dp/B07NRXFBLW" target="_blank">HERE</a> :-)friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-80419031644854247242019-02-04T19:34:00.000-08:002019-02-04T19:34:04.316-08:00Quotes about love...and where they started.<div style="text-align: center;">
<em>“We spend too much time wondering and worrying about what’s expected. What’s proper. What makes sense. Love doesn’t make sense. It just is or it isn’t. And once it is, there’s really nothing left to wonder or worry about.”</em></div>
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That line is from <a href="https://books2read.com/u/3Lkreb" rel="noopener" target="_blank">With Whom We Spend Our Lives</a>, a story, for those of you who aren't familiar with it, spends a great deal of time exploring the age old question...Is love enough?</div>
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Is it? The truth is, (and this may shock some, my being a romance writer and all) but I don't think it is. A theory I'll save for another day, and another quote.</div>
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I chose this one today, because of one line. 'It just is, or it isn't.'</div>
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Have you ever heard someone say, "I love him/her a lot."?</div>
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I have. And makes me crazy every time. How can you love someone a lot? Can you love someone a little? I can't. </div>
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I can like you a lot. And I can like you a little. But once I crash that threshold over to the love side, that's it. I love you. Period. That's the whole point of love, it's infinite and unconditional. That's what makes it so special, so hard to find and so important to keep. </div>
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That's also what makes it so simple. Such a basic truth, your heart has no choice but to follow it. </div>
<img alt="_We spend too much time wondering and worrying about what's expected, what's proper, what makes sense. Love doesn't make sense. It just is or isn't. And once it is, there really isn't anything left to wonder or wor" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-31" height="640" src="https://authorksthomas.files.wordpress.com/2019/02/we-spend-too-much-time-wondering-and-worrying-about-whats-expected-whats-proper-what-makes-sense.-love-doesnt-make-sense.-it-just-is-or-isnt.-and-once-it-is-there-really-isnt-anything-le.png" width="425" /><br />
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<em> He points out at the sand. “I was standing right there when she showed up out of the blue sixteen years ago. I remember because I made a point to look up and make a mental note of the house I was staring at so I could find this exact spot again. I knew, in that moment, even when I didn’t know how it would be possible, that I would be back on this beach, in that same sand, on my knee and asking her to marry me. I’d have done it right then and there if I could have. And I was younger than you. She was younger than Harper.” And I get where he’s going with this. “We spend too much time wondering and worrying about what’s expected. What’s proper. What makes sense. Love doesn’t make sense. It just is or it isn’t. And once it is, there’s really nothing left to wonder or worry about.”</em></div>
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<em> “We have a spot. Harper and I.” My gaze travels out toward the ocean as I remember it clear as day. “First time I ever kissed her. We were standing under the big magnolia tree in her backyard. It’s the same place I first told her I loved her, too.” I can feel my mouth contorting into a grin so huge it hurts my cheeks. “It’s our tree, you know? We spent hours sitting under it. She even has a picture of us sitting there still hanging in her room. It was my favorite of her. She had this massive flower in her hair that day and she was looking at me in a way that made me want to be someone I knew I wasn’t yet. A way that made me believe I could really be that someone someday.”</em></div>
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<em> “Think you’re that someone yet?”</em></div>
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<em> I turn toward him again. “Yeah.”</em></div>
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<em> “Then what the hell are you waiting for?”</em></div>
friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-19117442215266695662017-09-16T10:12:00.000-07:002017-09-27T04:59:17.818-07:00When Sailor Met Dante... (because it's all about the #MeetCute)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTYuh3KTG95mK6xYRw_VmoWd_ipWxsUoZXfgNggc4MUfDKR6B7dtzg_fBFtbHxO6GLIfIYxDLLviyLxOhFTAPcZAvLNHu_yxzLrY8ZXeSeX4MByTyFGMPCgL0kAd8WSya5k0IDHognXgtJ/s1600/18155810_10211790583815533_817070521312365199_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="1200" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTYuh3KTG95mK6xYRw_VmoWd_ipWxsUoZXfgNggc4MUfDKR6B7dtzg_fBFtbHxO6GLIfIYxDLLviyLxOhFTAPcZAvLNHu_yxzLrY8ZXeSeX4MByTyFGMPCgL0kAd8WSya5k0IDHognXgtJ/s400/18155810_10211790583815533_817070521312365199_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The #MeetCute Books each have a unique answer to that query. Some might make you swoon, others might make you giggle . . . and some may make you blush.</div>
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Twelve authors. Twelve stand-alone contemporary romance novels. Twelve stories that will make your heart beat a little faster.</div>
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Because it’s all about the #MeetCute.</div>
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For each #MeetCute Book, we’ll share a couples interview in the style of the “When Harry Met Sally” clips. (Check them out <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lzi2G68CMiE" target="_blank">here</a>!)</div>
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In EverAfter Sailor is ready for adventure . . . but is she ready for Dante?<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyV8rQpFPeNwgoNQ7ZgNkctFPJdTJ5-m4HVXgoh6Nne168GqjPTzV0H0RrIe-rtYG4aHvQnIfCia3gSEL59Lw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<b><span style="color: magenta;">Sailor</span></b>: The first time we met? Oh, right. He tried to kill me.</div>
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;">Dante</span></b>: Sure. Of course that would be the way you tell it. Funny, the way I remember it, the first time we met, you were stealing from me! And I busted you.</div>
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<b><span style="color: magenta;">Sailor</span></b>: And then, you tried to kill me.</div>
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;">Dante</span></b>: (shakes his head, exasperation mounting - Sailor does this to him) I did not try to kill you. If anything, I saved your life. </div>
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<b><span style="color: magenta;">Sailor</span></b>: (rolls her eyes, smirking...mostly to make him crazier) Well, it was the least you could do, all things considered. </div>
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;">Dante</span></b>: All things considered? </div>
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<b><span style="color: magenta;">Sailor</span></b>: Well, yeah. I mean, first you find a starving, lost young woman in your vineyard, but do you calmly introduce yourself and offer to help? No, you come roaring out of the thicket like a yeti, scaring me half to death and making me choke on one of your very sour, very non-tasty by the way, grapes. Do you know the day I was having? Near death by grape wasn't even the worst, or most surprising part.</div>
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;">Dante</span></b>: (grins, tilting sideways to get a better look at her) Oh yeah? What was the most surprising part.</div>
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<b><span style="color: magenta;">Sailor</span></b>: (shrugs) You know.</div>
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;">Dante</span></b>: Yeah...but they don't. Why don't you tell them?</div>
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<span style="color: magenta;"><b>Sailor</b></span>: (sighs dramatically) Fine. The most surprising part...was you. Scary, killer yeti and all. Turned out not to be so scary at all. </div>
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;">Dante</span></b>: No?</div>
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<b><span style="color: magenta;">Sailor</span></b>: No. Quite the opposite actually.</div>
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<b><i>Both smile at each other in that sappy, dopey way only two people in love can. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>Silence.</i></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: magenta;">Sailor</span></b>: Wait. What about me? Don't you want to say something nice about me?</div>
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;">Dante</span></b>: Say something nice about the trespassing grape thief who did nothing but make me crazy from the moment we met?</div>
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<b><span style="color: magenta;">Sailor</span></b>: (Sits up straighter, crossing her arms) Yeah. </div>
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<b><span style="color: #38761d;">Dante</span></b>: (grins, momentarily amused by her, then turns serious)</div>
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...</div>
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She's the one who saved <i>me</i>. </div>
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<b><i>EverAfter releases on September 27th but you can preorder it <a href="https://www.books2read.com/u/3Lr1P0" target="_blank">here</a> for only <span style="color: red;">99 cents</span>!</i></b></div>
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Sailor is lost. </div>
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She's spent her whole life in the same town, going all the same places, with all the same people. She's dated one boy. One boy who grew into a man. And now, he wants to marry her.</div>
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Suddenly, Sailor can't help seeing, how easy it is to go astray...without ever going anywhere.</div>
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Therefore, the only way to find herself...is to leave.</div>
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Dante is mostly pissed. Most of the time.</div>
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And that feeling only increases when he stumbles onto a woman, stealing grapes right from the vine. His vine. On his vineyard.</div>
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Doesn't matter that she's lost. Or that she's beautiful. To make matters worse, she continues to stick around, despite his efforts to be properly pissed...with her.</div>
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And thus, their story begins.</div>
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Because that's the thing with happy ever afters...they all start with an unlikely once upon a time.</div>
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friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-68704574607457445172017-08-31T11:39:00.001-07:002017-08-31T11:43:41.344-07:00#ReadToRaiseMoney<form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post" target="_top">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFruF9lW6JQJcYguFW7d-2dNzmgTe9lxjh-ek_8gI7kClY70CqWZJGaSlD4_wHLjDjguGPPwcpJB4hlClFBtgjE0SS8MjESXB5H1car6lIScTp8WC1bYTVBZ_Es2zEQweu7vDpZ5aJBx4V/s1600/Prices+Are+Cut.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFruF9lW6JQJcYguFW7d-2dNzmgTe9lxjh-ek_8gI7kClY70CqWZJGaSlD4_wHLjDjguGPPwcpJB4hlClFBtgjE0SS8MjESXB5H1car6lIScTp8WC1bYTVBZ_Es2zEQweu7vDpZ5aJBx4V/s400/Prices+Are+Cut.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-size: 14px;">As most of you know, I'm a Florida girl...that means, I've seen my share of Hurricanes. Some were pretty brutal, some passed us by with little or no impact...but never have I seen anything like they're facing in Texas.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-size: 14px;">My heart aches with every update I see or scroll past, and it eats away at me, being stuck so far away, unable to help.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-size: 14px;">While I may have to accept that getting to Texas and volunteering with the rescue efforts is not within my reach at this time, I will not accept doing NOTHING.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-size: 14px;">So, in that spirit, I come to you all ~</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-size: 14px;">Help me raise funds for those who ARE there, doing what we can't. Donate as little as a buck and I'll gift you a copy of Love Multiplied (A Ten Book Contemporary Romance Set) as my thank you to you!<3 span=""></3></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-size: 14px;">All you have to do is follow the link, send a buck and then comment below (or message me) your email address to receive your Love Multiplied Gift <3 span=""></3></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-size: 14px;">*****All money collected will be donated to the Houston SPCA*****</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-size: 14px;">P.S. - I was planning to use the Facebook generated fundraiser page, however, they wait 60-75 days to release funds, and I don't know about you, but I'm thinking Texas doesn't have that kind of time right now...</span></span></div>
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friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-47331379108332698422017-06-27T09:21:00.002-07:002017-06-27T09:21:46.472-07:00The first #MeetCute book is HERE!<img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-3809" height="255" src="https://tawdrakandle.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/ReleaseBannerFiftyFrogs.jpg" width="640" />
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<em>Fifty Frogs</em> is live today!</h2>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
Boy meets girl. It’s the way romances usually begin . . . and while we all love a happy ending, it’s the #MeetCute that wins our hearts.
How did you two meet?
The #MeetCute Books each have a unique answer to that query. Some might make you swoon, others might make you giggle . . . and some may make you blush.
Twelve authors. Twelve stand-alone contemporary romance novels. Twelve stories that will make your heart beat a little faster.
Because it’s all about the #MeetCute.
~***~
Vivian is sick of dating. Sick of the way guys treat her, sick of living and crying by when and if they call . . . she’s just done.
When her aunt reminds her that a girl has to kiss a lot of frogs before she finds her prince--Aunt Gail says that number is fifty--Vivian decides she’s taking control of her dating life: she’s going to go on a series of first dates only, and each one must end in a kiss. She begins chronicling each date--the good, the bad and the downright unbelievable--with a plan to turn the stories into an in-depth magazine series about the realities of dating in the twenty-first century.
Everything’s going along according to plan until Vivian hits a bump in her road with Frog Number Five, who doesn’t seem to understand his role in this deal. And despite Vivian’s determination to make it all the way to the big five-oh, when fate keeps throwing this same man across her path, she begins to wonder if maybe it’s time to ditch the plan . . . and kiss just one more frog.
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Buy FIFTY FROGS at your favorite ebook vendor today!</h2>
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<a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/fifty-frogs/id1229734514?mt=11">iBooks</a>/<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Fifty-Frogs-MeetCute-Tawdra-Kandle-ebook/dp/B0719VZVTS/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">Amazon</a>/<a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/fifty-frogs-tawdra-kandle/1126475363?ean=2940157169411">Nook</a>/<a href="https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/fifty-frogs">Kobo</a>/<a href="https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Tawdra_Kandle_Fifty_Frogs?id=SqYlDwAAQBAJ&hl=en">Google</a>/<strong><a href="https://books2read.com/FiftyFrogs">Books2Read</a> </strong></h2>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Check out the <a href="http://tawdrakandle.com/books-2/meetcute-books/meetcute-books-play-list/">FIFTY FROGS Play List</a> <a href="http://tawdrakandle.com/books-2/meetcute-books/meetcute-books-play-list/">here</a>.</h2>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Read the <a href="http://tawdrakandle.com/when-vivian-met-charlie/">How Vivian Met Charlie Interview here</a>.</h2>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Learn more about all the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/MeetCuteBooks/?fref=ts">#MeetCute Books here</a>!</h2>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://tawdrakandle.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/cropped-2015AuthorPhoto-1539x1800-300x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="alignright wp-image-3486 size-medium" height="300" src="https://tawdrakandle.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/cropped-2015AuthorPhoto-1539x1800-300x300.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em>Tawdra Kandle writes romance, in just about all its forms. She loves unlikely pairings, strong women, sexy guys, hot love scenes and just enough conflict to make it interesting. Her books include young adult and new adult paranormal romance, new adult and adult contemporary romance and adult paramystery romance. She lives in central Florida with a husband, kids, sweet pup and too many cats. And yeah, she rocks purple hair. </em>
<em>You can follow Tawdra on <a href="http://amzn.to/2qYptiA">Amazon</a> to receive updates on her releases. You can also visit her <a href="http://tawdrakandle.com/">website</a> for more information, and subscribe to her <a href="http://tiny.cc/TawdraNewsletter">newsletter</a> for sales announcement, special exclusive content and promotions!</em>
<em>If you enjoy Tawdra's books, join the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/1065333840160406/">Naughty Temptresses</a>!</em>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><br /></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/AuthorTawdraKandle">Facebook</a>/<a href="https://twitter.com/tawdra">Twitter</a>/<a href="http://instagram.com/tawdra">Instagram</a>/<a href="https://www.pinterest.com/authortawdra/">Pinterest</a>/<a href="https://open.spotify.com/user/1230830566">Spotify</a>/<a href="https://www.bookbub.com/authors/tawdra-kandle">BookBub</a>/<a href="https://books2read.com/author/tawdra-kandle/subscribe/1/8908/">Books2Read</a></div>
friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-68075951577499247532017-06-22T12:00:00.004-07:002017-06-22T12:00:49.764-07:00Tawdra Kandle: When Vivian Met Charlie<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
<img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-3741" height="240" src="https://tawdrakandle.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/18057792_300419463720863_6920791541736166591_n.jpg" width="640" /><br />
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</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Boy meets girl. It’s the way romances usually begin . . . and while we all love a happy ending, it’s the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/meetcute?source=note">#MeetCute</a> that wins our hearts.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<em><span class="_4yxp">How did you two meet?</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<em><span class="_4yxp"><br /></span></em></div>
</div>
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</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
The <a href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/meetcute?source=note">#MeetCute</a> Books each have a unique answer to that query. Some might make you swoon, others might make you giggle . . . and some may make you blush.</div>
</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Twelve authors. Twelve stand-alone contemporary romance novels. Twelve stories that will make your heart beat a little faster.</div>
</div>
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</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Because it’s all about the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/meetcute?source=note">#MeetCute</a>.</div>
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<em>For each #MeetCute Book, we'll share a couples interview in the style of the "When Harry Met Sally" clips. (Check them out <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lzi2G68CMiE">here</a>!) </em></div>
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<em><br /></em></div>
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<em>In FIFTY FROGS, Vivian kisses some frogs . . . but there's only one guy who captures her heart. </em></div>
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<em><br /></em></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<strong>Vivian</strong>: The first time we met, it was in the middle of a street, and I was forced out of the car against my will.</div>
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<strong>Charlie</strong>: Let's just be clear here: it wasn't me doing the forcing.</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<strong>Vivian</strong> (laughing): No, that's true. It wasn't. That was my mom and Aunt Gail.</div>
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<strong>Charlie</strong>: Remind me to thank them for that.</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<strong>Vivian</strong>: Anyway . . . (mock glares at Charlie), when I saw you the first time, I thought you were cute.</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<strong>Charlie</strong>: Tell the truth. You thought I was smoking hot, standing there, holding my rake. And when the turtle got involved, I was damn near irresistible.</div>
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<strong>Vivian</strong>: Right. Only, I did resist you.</div>
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<strong>Charlie</strong>: For a long time. While you were busy doing other things. <clears throat> It took a while and some help before you finally gave into my charms.</div>
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<strong>Vivian</strong>: Okay, so what did you think when you first saw me?</div>
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<strong>Charlie</strong>: I thought you were incredible, beautiful and full of passion. I also thought you had a nice ass.</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<strong>Vivian</strong>: Are you talking about the day we met in the street? That wasn't my best day. I can't believe that's what your first impression was. Also, did you even see my ass that day?</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<strong>Charlie</strong>: I mean the first day I saw you. And yeah, checking out your ass is always a top priority for me. Always was . . . always will be.</div>
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<strong>Vivian</strong>: Awww, you say the sweetest things!</div>
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<strong>Charlie</strong>: I only ever speak the truth, babe. That's a forever thing. Just like us.</div>
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***************************************</div>
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</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
<a href="https://books2read.com/FiftyFrogs">Fifty Frogs</a> releases on June 27th. You can <a href="https://books2read.com/FiftyFrogs">preorder</a> it <a href="https://books2read.com/FiftyFrogs">here</a> today!</div>
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<img alt="" class="alignright wp-image-3761 size-medium" height="400" src="https://tawdrakandle.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/FIFTYFROGScoverreduced-188x300.jpeg" width="250" /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Vivian is sick of dating. Sick of the way guys treat her, sick of living and crying by when and if they call . . . she’s just done. When her aunt reminds her that a girl has to kiss a lot of frogs before she finds her prince--Aunt Gail says that number is fifty--Vivian decides she’s taking control of her dating life: she’s going to go on a series of first dates only, and each one must end in a kiss. She begins chronicling each date--the good, the bad and the downright unbelievable--with a plan to turn the stories into an in-depth magazine series about the realities of dating in the twenty-first century.
Everything’s going along according to plan until Vivian hits a bump in her road with Frog Number Five, who doesn’t seem to understand his role in this deal. And despite Vivian’s determination to make it all the way to the big five-oh, when fate keeps throwing this same man across her path, she begins to wonder if maybe it’s time to ditch the plan . . . and kiss just one more frog.</div>
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<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
<br />
Find out more about the #MeetCute Books!</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
<br />
<a href="http://meetcutebooks.com/">Website</a>/<a href="https://www.facebook.com/MeetCuteBooks/?fref=ts">Facebook</a>/<a href="https://www.instafreebie.com/free/WWzqj">Newsletter</a></div>
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<em><br /></em>
<em><br /></em>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em> <img alt="" class="alignleft wp-image-3486 size-medium" height="300" src="https://tawdrakandle.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/cropped-2015AuthorPhoto-1539x1800-300x300.jpg" width="300" /></em></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<em><br /></em></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<em>Tawdra Kandle writes romance, in just about all its forms. She loves unlikely pairings, strong women, sexy guys, hot love scenes and just enough conflict to make it interesting. Her books include young adult </em><em>and new adult paranormal romance, new adult and adult contemporary romance and adult paramystery romance. She lives in central Florida with a husband, kids, sweet pup and too many cats. And yeah, she rocks purple hair.</em>
<em>You can follow Tawdra on <a href="http://amzn.to/2qYptiA">Amazon</a> to receive updates on her releases. You can also visit her <a href="http://tawdrakandle.com/">website</a> for more information, and subscribe to her <a href="http://tiny.cc/TawdraNewsletter">newsletter</a> for sales announcement, special exclusive content and promotions!</em></div>
<br />
If you enjoy Tawdra's books, join the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/1065333840160406/">Naughty Temptresses</a>!
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/AuthorTawdraKandle">Facebook</a>/<a href="https://twitter.com/tawdra">Twitter</a>/<a href="http://instagram.com/tawdra">Instagram</a>/<a href="https://www.pinterest.com/authortawdra/">Pinterest</a>/<a href="https://open.spotify.com/user/1230830566">Spotify</a>/<a href="https://www.bookbub.com/authors/tawdra-kandle">BookBub</a>/<a href="https://books2read.com/author/tawdra-kandle/subscribe/1/8908/">Books2Read</a></div>
</div>
friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-46085509354184773512017-04-27T12:17:00.000-07:002017-04-27T12:17:38.786-07:00 It's all about the #MeetCute<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJXkDQBcnMRvPEqfHMzrzosKe81Jow6jtKSBgdH4qvcVMNOZ2ni8xQb9RC8okYJvxDeHkI7QhiOYKJ-TUAikbdcvZWLHPBJP_GGV44sJXqmWss31vwKq3ygCfytFT3n9gkoZ_0sQKWjSLk/s1600/18156462_10211790403211018_2555744419032896300_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJXkDQBcnMRvPEqfHMzrzosKe81Jow6jtKSBgdH4qvcVMNOZ2ni8xQb9RC8okYJvxDeHkI7QhiOYKJ-TUAikbdcvZWLHPBJP_GGV44sJXqmWss31vwKq3ygCfytFT3n9gkoZ_0sQKWjSLk/s400/18156462_10211790403211018_2555744419032896300_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
Boy meets girl. It’s the way romances usually begin . . . and while we all love a happy ending, it’s the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/meetcute?source=note">#MeetCute</a> that wins our hearts.</div>
</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span class="_4yxp">How did you two meet?</span></em></div>
</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
<div style="text-align: center;">
The <a href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/meetcute?source=note">#MeetCute</a> Books each have a unique answer to that query. Some might make you swoon, others might make you giggle . . . and some may make you blush.</div>
</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Twelve authors. Twelve stand-alone contemporary romance novels. Twelve stories that will make your heart beat a little faster.</div>
</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Because it’s all about the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/meetcute?source=note">#MeetCute</a>.</div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
<div class="_2cuy _3dgx _2vxa" style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>We are excited to announce the #MeetCute Books!</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Starting on June 27th, we'll release one #MeetCute Book a month for a year. The release months and featured authors (and titles if available) are below. Please visit all the authors and get to know them, if you're not already a fan--this is a treasure trove of romance talent right here!</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
June: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AuthorTawdraKandle/?fref=ts">Tawdra Kandle</a> <a href="http://tiny.cc/FiftyFrogs">FIFTY FROGS</a></div>
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July: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/renefolsom/?fref=ts">Rene Folsom</a> <a href="http://renefolsom.com/bychoice">BY CHOICE</a> (A Playing Games Spin-Off Novel)</div>
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August: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/oliviahardin/?fref=ts">Olivia Hardin</a> <a href="http://tiny.cc/d2dWIWLF">WHAT I WASN'T LOOKING FOR</a></div>
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September: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/friedgatortail/?fref=ts">K.S. Thomas</a></div>
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October: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/HeatherHildenbrandAuthor/?fref=ts">Heather Hildenbrand</a></div>
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November: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSylvieFox/?fref=ts">Sylvie Fox</a> WITH OR WITHOUT YOU</div>
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December: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/lyssalayne/?fref=ts">Lyssa Layne</a> DEUCE OF HEARTS</div>
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January: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/anne.conley.752?fref=ts">Anne Conley</a> KISS OF FORTUNE</div>
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February: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/LisaHugheyRomanceAuthor/?fref=ts">Lisa Hughey</a></div>
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March: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAnieMichaels/?fref=ts">Anie Michaels</a></div>
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April: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/violethoweauthor/?fref=ts">Violet Howe</a></div>
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May: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJKRivers/?fref=ts">JK Rivers</a> IT HAPPENED ON A TUESDAY</div>
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Visit our <a href="http://meetcutebooks.com/">website</a> to find out about the latest releases, cover reveals and more! Like our <a href="https://www.facebook.com/MeetCuteBooks/">Facebook page</a> to keep up. And sign up for our <a href="http://tawdrakandle.us4.list-manage1.com/subscribe?u=76b7689e20ed6e62c1d4dfabd&id=8ef75fe419">#MeetCute Books Breaking News </a> so that you never miss a release or update--or a special prize!</div>
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The first release under the #MeetCute Books logo is FIFTY FROGS by Tawdra Kandle. More information about this book will be on our website and newsletter on May 2nd . . . and the awesome cover will be revealed on May 16th.</div>
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(But psssst . . . it's already up for <a href="http://tiny.cc/FiftyFrogs">preorder on iBooks.</a> You can read the blurb there!)</div>
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Until then . . . keep it #cute!</div>
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friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-27086917673956693832017-04-02T08:14:00.000-07:002017-04-02T08:14:07.439-07:00A Birthday Post<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm not usually a fan of my birthdays. Maybe it's because my Dad died right before my eleventh and kind of sucked the fun out of it. Maybe it's because I'm an extreme introvert and the idea of being the center of attention all day long freaks me the fuck out. Who knows?! </div>
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But, it's my birthday, and for the first time in a really, really long time, I'm thoroughly enjoying it. Thirty-six is off to a pretty bangin' start. I'm even starting to think being the center of attention isn't so bad when it means being at the core of where all the love and good vibes are being pooled to. I have amazing people in my world. Having all of them pay attention to me all at once is actually pretty incredible.</div>
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And, the whole thing is sort of helping to open my eyes when it comes to how I approach my work. I don't know if you know this, but it's really fucking hard to market your shit when you're terrified of being the center of attention. It's something I've struggled with for years, but I think, thirty-six (yeah, that's right, I'm thirty-freaking-six!) is going to be the year I finally stop being so scared. Stop playing small so no one notices too much or for too long. Stop playing in the shallow waters when I know damn well, I can ride the waves. I've got this. I can handle the attention if it's bad. And I finally get, just how fucking amazing it feels when it's good. ❤️</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDTtc6WZBxaaDpaXHW2XPPYdtT4pePQ3oNUi1TLOwTWWdjoiAAuhU7J5woO0DZardg2hh2Ph7a5VnjmZ7CWxinhyphenhyphenH4R9b-zIFlEJ_sPxmRG7IQ6pmXk_vzbV56nFeSiaAy2AwRTXmHFsWv/s1600/170402_110458_440.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDTtc6WZBxaaDpaXHW2XPPYdtT4pePQ3oNUi1TLOwTWWdjoiAAuhU7J5woO0DZardg2hh2Ph7a5VnjmZ7CWxinhyphenhyphenH4R9b-zIFlEJ_sPxmRG7IQ6pmXk_vzbV56nFeSiaAy2AwRTXmHFsWv/s400/170402_110458_440.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-73126200668419602942017-03-16T15:17:00.000-07:002017-03-17T15:13:35.170-07:00I was going to write a book...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv7k_tpOYMUtdxWjuyl0wMEeUh6HQ7Sletpg9YFAFsJSusjDRACVKhyaKkiiPhKhL3hmGoStHRj_LOJ6kPBDmY7aOpQTygcoJp8XdyajmHrxZ2DRQOmbOXKST-lYQrUVg3wj7ON3yr_VT0/s1600/ForgetMeNotGraphic2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv7k_tpOYMUtdxWjuyl0wMEeUh6HQ7Sletpg9YFAFsJSusjDRACVKhyaKkiiPhKhL3hmGoStHRj_LOJ6kPBDmY7aOpQTygcoJp8XdyajmHrxZ2DRQOmbOXKST-lYQrUVg3wj7ON3yr_VT0/s320/ForgetMeNotGraphic2.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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I was going to write a book. Honestly, I don't even completely remember the original plan outside of that. I do know, I definitely was NOT going to write a love triangle. Definitely, freaking not. There's just no way to write those and make everyone happy. Ever. I was NOT going to try. </div>
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Wait. I do remember. I remember I was going to write about a guy who lost all of his memories. Forgot everything about his past, his life, his family. Everything. Except Her.</div>
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God, does it get any more romantic than that?!</div>
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That's what I was going to write.</div>
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The tragic story of a man who struggled to remember the love everyone wanted him to forget. Because, how dare he remember a girl...a girl who as all wrong...when he couldn't remember his parents. His carefully crafted future. His obligations. His history. </div>
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Then, as I sat there, typing away at this new story I found quite exciting, the words were just rolling. </div>
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One chapter. Done.<br />
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Second chapter...looking good.<br />
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Wait.<br />
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Who the hell is Gunnar?<br />
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What the hell kind of a name is Gunnar?<br />
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Why the hell is this GUNNAR in my story??????<br />
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That's when I heard it. The taunting giggles. The quiet whispers. And then, the chirping sounds of mean little elves as they sang,<br />
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'Gunnar is here to stay - he won't go away. </div>
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And Gunnar's his name, no one cares if you think that it's lame. </div>
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Suck it up, butter cup and find your story's new angle,</div>
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because Gunnar is here to welcome you to the hell that is writing a love triangle'.</div>
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And that's when shit got really complicated...</div>
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So complicated in fact, I no longer wanted to write a book. I wanted to write two.</div>
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There you have it. Forget Me Not now has a buddy, Memories Made...out NOW and set to get you all confused and ready for FORGET ME NOT which will release on April 2nd (which also happens to be my birthday...which makes it sound like this is a coincidence, it's so not. I planned it. The whole thing. Well, not the date of my birth. That was my mother. Release date - that one - all me.)</div>
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Anyway - Memories Made - Free and exclusively available at the link below (I'd click it, but I already read it.) </div>
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<a href="https://www.instafreebie.com/free/jbkAO" target="_blank">THIS IS THE LINK - CLICK ME TO READ!</a></div>
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<br />friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-25089049714605113392017-03-06T08:33:00.000-08:002017-03-06T08:34:10.717-08:00Good Writers Are Good Listeners<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqr6lnMBWA6EJPAdKnTPM7bHENHGvUeGEbVpNvt0sFJFXlU4_uIFRyI3u76isdihafA-2Z3mnuE7F7Zk-hjig86O3szM_djXE69T-_UVVVFYchDbArqIrEl4aUyjEFhky87RVRZPxvRkO0/s1600/17017119_1330516237008568_1464090595830541793_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqr6lnMBWA6EJPAdKnTPM7bHENHGvUeGEbVpNvt0sFJFXlU4_uIFRyI3u76isdihafA-2Z3mnuE7F7Zk-hjig86O3szM_djXE69T-_UVVVFYchDbArqIrEl4aUyjEFhky87RVRZPxvRkO0/s320/17017119_1330516237008568_1464090595830541793_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I'm an introvert by nature, <i>an exceptionally shy one at that</i>, so I've always been more prone to placing attention on others rather than myself. I'm more than happy to have you talk about yourself for hours on end if that means no one's looking at me or expecting me to form sentences. Out loud.</div>
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I'm also a seasoned bartender (which many have confused for therapist over the years) AND because this shit runs in the family, I'm also the daughter of a professional Life Coach/ Counselor. My whole life, people have been coming to my front door (literally and figuratively) to spill their guts. Before it was to my mother, now, it's to me.</div>
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You can't begin to imagine the things people tell me. The stories I've heard. The things I KNOW about people I can never un-know. It's an honor to be allowed in and to be shown this intimate side of people's souls. A gift I never take lightly or for granted.</div>
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But, it's also an awesome responsibility, honoring people's trust, keeping their secrets. Especially when you're a writer and everything you come in contact with is potential writing material!</div>
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And it is. Writing material.</div>
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Hear me out.</div>
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To write honestly, to write emotionally and profoundly, you must be a good listener. You can only create multi-dimensional characters if you understand the multitude of dimensions human beings are made of. If you've seen below the surface. Heard their most personal stories and witnessed their private thought processes.</div>
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I don't share people's secrets in my writing. But, I harness their experiences in my own way, taking the emotions and consequent actions I've witnessed and recreating new characters and situations to apply them to, helping me create more genuine, more relatable stories.</div>
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I've been blessed with an extraordinary life. In my thirty-plus years, I've experienced more than most. Much of which has been heartache. Loss. And abuse. I've witnessed first-hand the damage of addictions and mental illness. I've become familiar with death and grief. I've been practicing since childhood. But, I've also traveled the world. I've driven across this country many, many times. I have been exposed to people of all cultures and beliefs. Have eaten foods in the countries they originated. I'm fluent in two languages and can muddle my way through more in a pinch. Lived in nearly every terrain. Been at home slinging drinks in the city of Las Vegas and felt completely in my element living life on a ranch riding and training horses day in and day out. I've been blessed. I can write about A LOT of stuff. BUT, I don't only want to write about me. My thoughts. My feelings. Diverse as they may be, they're still only mine.</div>
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So, consider this my warning as well as a thank you. Share. Vent. Cry. I'll listen. I'll support. And this is always a judgement free zone where secrets are treasured and trust is valued. But, those parts you share of yourself stay with me. They become a part of my human experience, twine in with my thoughts, my heart and my passion. My writing.</div>
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I craft stories by nature. I create from my heart. And what you've put there, comes out in a new form, with new life. I'll always be a listener. A watcher. An observer.</div>
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But I'll always be a writer, too.</div>
friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-49687506654836303692016-08-30T08:16:00.000-07:002016-08-30T08:17:40.072-07:00#TrueStoryTuesday <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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This one time, at band camp...Kidding.</div>
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I never went to band camp. I went to horse camp, but no good story comes to mind from those days, so that's not where this is going.</div>
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Let's start over.</div>
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I write romance novels. Chances are, that's what ties you and me together. Our love for...well, love. And who can blame us? Love has the power to bring out the best and the worst in us. It can make us strong or be our greatest weakness. It can make us move mountains or make us do some of the dumbest shit in the history of dumb shit. In short, love is entertaining as hell.</div>
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And it doesn't even have to be fictional.</div>
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For example...</div>
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When I was in my early twenties I fell for this guy...we'll call him Noah. True Story or not, I must maintain some sense of dignity in my more humiliating moments.</div>
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Anyway, Noah was funny and smart and gorgeous and so completely totally all wrong for me. He was bad news and, because love made me stupid but heartache made me scared, I knew from the moment he began dowsing me in his charms that I needed to stay away from him as far as humanly possible. </div>
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Naturally, we saw each other nearly every day. Had all the same friends. Went out to all the same places. Hung out. Talked and laughed for hours on end at times. But, always, in the back of my mind the voice nagged on to not be fooled. He was a player. A cheater. And I was far better off being his friend.</div>
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Thing is, you can't be friends with a guy like that. And the more attached I became, the harder it was to watch him be that charming, flirty guy with girls who were dumb enough to take a chance on him. (No bitterness there :-P) </div>
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So, I did the only sensible thing I could. I increased the distance between us. By about 2000 miles. I moved. Not just because of him, but a lot because of him. And, because love and twenties equals dumb, so you do dumb shit like move across the country to stop some hot guy from flirting with you.</div>
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As I was driving across county, through deserts and mountains and emptiness, I passed an abandoned building sitting in the middle of no man's land. It reminded me of a prison. Fitting when you think about it...anyway, it was covered in graffiti of all kinds and right there, smack in the middle of it all, in huge writing were the words 'I love Noah' surrounded by a big heart. Not kidding. I cursed, hit the gas and pressed onward.</div>
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Fast forward six months, and I'm making the same trip home. Because, love and dumb and twenties, and I couldn't get over him. 2000 miles did NOTHING to get him out of my system. </div>
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Then, as I passed that same shit building, I noticed it had some new art...where it had originally said 'I love Noah', it now simply said, 'Noah is Back'.</div>
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Talk about a freaking sign!</div>
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Our love was destined to be epic.Noah was my soulmate. Obviously.</div>
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And it wasn't long after I got back that our paths crossed and we continued our ridiculous games, until finally, one night, we kissed. Magic, right? Wrong. Worst kisser ever. No connection. No life changing nothing. </div>
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We're dumb in our twenties. </div>
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Sometimes I still think about him and pretend the kiss wasn't as bad as it was.</div>
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When it comes to love and our innate desire for epic romance, we can be dumb in our thirties too.</div>
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<span style="color: magenta;">#TrueStoryTuesday</span></div>
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<br />friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-86124841125365608662016-08-29T12:11:00.000-07:002016-08-29T12:11:54.775-07:00It's Monday - 'READ ON' Day<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="mcnTextBlock" style="background-color: white; border-collapse: collapse; color: black; min-width: 100%; width: 100%px;"><tbody class="mcnTextBlockOuter">
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<tr><td class="mcnTextContent" style="color: #606060; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; line-height: 27px; padding: 0px 18px 9px; text-align: center; word-break: break-word;" valign="top"><span style="font-family: georgia, times, "times new roman", serif;">It's Monday-FUN Day! </span><br /><br /><span style="color: teal;"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms", "marker felt-thin", arial, sans-serif;">Wait...that's not a thing. Let's make it a thing! Better yet...let's come up with our OWN new thing. Like...Monday-'READ ON' Day! I don't know about you guys...but I think that has a nice ring to it ;-)</span></span><br /><br /><a href="https://www.amazon.com/K.S.-Thomas/e/B00HQWTA10/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1" style="color: #6dc6dd;" target="_blank"><img align="none" height="132" src="https://gallery.mailchimp.com/77b458781cc84860356fc54bb/images/d26b0569-d6f7-4cfc-aba9-2fe6f7ab6804.jpg" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: none; text-decoration: none;" width="400" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia, times, "times new roman", serif;"><strong>So, in honor of Monday - 'READ ON' Day, how about some new books?!</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color: teal;"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms", "marker felt-thin", arial, sans-serif;">(Yes. The answer to that should always be 'YES'.)<br /><br />And, you're in luck...I've got a few for ya ;-)</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia, times, "times new roman", serif;">If you've been reading the pINK series it's time to officially meet RIOT and MEMPHIS :-D</span><br /><br /><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Eleven-pINK-Novelette-K-S-Thomas-ebook/dp/B01KKQP1J8" style="color: #6dc6dd;" target="_blank"><img align="none" height="400" src="https://gallery.mailchimp.com/77b458781cc84860356fc54bb/images/c18c07f3-bcdc-4245-8e41-ea29f5a10cc7.png" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: none; text-decoration: none;" width="322" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia, times, "times new roman", serif;">*****Eleven is a novelette and intended as a prequel to the novel Eight. Both are a part of the pINK series*****<br /><br />With graduation coming up, Nathanial ‘Memphis’ Turner is feeling pretty good about his future. Maybe he’s not on the fast track to making all his dreams come true, but the road he’s on will get him there eventually. Because she’s on it with him. His love. His life.<br /><br />Stone ‘Riot’ Rousseau has been the nutty peanut butter to his jelly since she was five, and no matter how hard their parents have tried to keep them apart, there’s never been one without the other.<br /><br />But that’s all about to change…<br /><br /><span style="color: purple;">“It took eleven years to make her mine for good and eleven hours to lose her forever.” ~ Memphis Turner </span></span><br /><br />Download <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Eleven-pINK-Novelette-K-S-Thomas-ebook/dp/B01KKQP1J8" style="color: #6dc6dd;" target="_blank">HERE</a><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: georgia, times, "times new roman", serif;">But wait...there's MORE!</span></strong><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia, times, "times new roman", serif;">I recently joined up with six other authors to put together a sexy, fun set and now, it's finally LIVE!<br /><br /><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Holding-Hero-Lyssa-Layne-ebook/dp/B01KZ2102E" style="color: #6dc6dd;" target="_blank"><img align="none" height="311" src="https://gallery.mailchimp.com/77b458781cc84860356fc54bb/images/0148a7ca-dabb-4a4b-a7f7-a61f7d2ad567.jpg" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: none; text-decoration: none;" width="400" /></a></span><br /><br /><br /><strong>Holding a Hero </strong><br />When things go wrong…hold on tight and don't let go. These sexy, larger-than-life heroes—firefighters, cops, bad boys, Rock stars and Navy Seals—will hold you through the night and keep you safe from all harm. Six full length novels and one bonus novella by best-selling and award-winning Romance authors. This set is available for only a limited time. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Holding-Hero-Lyssa-Layne-ebook/dp/B01KZ2102E#nav-subnav" style="color: #6dc6dd;" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;"><strong>It's only 99 cents or FREE if you're in KU!!</strong></span></a><br /><br /><br /><strong>Burst Into Flame by Lyssa Layne </strong><br />For Dr. Katy Garrity, life is a whirlwind, and the New York Fire Department is the heart of the storm. When sparks fly between her and her late husband's best friend, can they find a way to make it work?<br /><br /><strong>Guilty Until Proven Innocent by Deb Julienne</strong><br />When a photo journalist gets hit in the crossfire, a cop falsely accused of killing a fellow office must make the sacrifice…only love can set them free.<br /><br /><span style="color: teal;"><strong>Unhurt by KS Thomas (See...that's me :-P)</strong></span><br />Joss Kelley will do anything to save her son, even if it means making impromptu marriage proposals to random strangers. It's just her luck the man who accepts is Derek Tice - An Ex Navy SEAL in need of a new mission and Joss and her son just might be it.<br /><br /><strong>Body, Ink, and Soul by Jude Ouvrard </strong><br />Nix has finally found the perfect man and the life she wants...until she meets Levi, the charming, tattooed sexy bad boy. Will Nix stay true to her heart or will her body sent her life spiraling out of control?<br /><br /><strong>119 Days by RaeAnne Hadley </strong><br />Celeste was happily divorced for 5 years but the nights were becoming lonelier. She decided a one night stand could fill a lonely night but her target has something else in mind.<br /><br /><strong>Call Me Cowboy by D’Ann Lindun </strong><br />Rock star Johnny Cortez is being targeted by a killer, sending him and hunting guide Montana Weaver racing across the Colorado Rockies.<br /><br /><strong>Forever Love by Melissa Keir </strong><br />Can two former companions become friends again, or will the sparks turn a childhood friendship into a forever love?<br /><br />Download <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Holding-Hero-Lyssa-Layne-ebook/dp/B01KZ2102E#nav-subnav" style="color: #6dc6dd;" target="_blank">HERE</a><br /><br /><span style="color: teal;"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms", "marker felt-thin", arial, sans-serif;">There...how's that for a reading fix?! Now off you go to celebrate Monday - 'READ ON' day :-D</span></span><div style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 10px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: teal;"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms", "marker felt-thin", arial, sans-serif;">READ ON ~<br /><br />K.</span></span><br /> </div>
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friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-23297676348792423212016-08-12T10:34:00.001-07:002016-08-12T10:34:16.416-07:00Same thing, different results...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZygDdB7TDfPEkyrJLHwO4njnHAvqWCQdSgIs3YXYnhbMeo0C88B66tai9glH2K1jVmy_Y65Lx3WG23I4bcAhBGe8mRTv37ONYNCTIXBiqlHwDK4RUCW-HuLA-i9FG8NUeNOIQj1OzVO_a/s1600/IMG_2001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZygDdB7TDfPEkyrJLHwO4njnHAvqWCQdSgIs3YXYnhbMeo0C88B66tai9glH2K1jVmy_Y65Lx3WG23I4bcAhBGe8mRTv37ONYNCTIXBiqlHwDK4RUCW-HuLA-i9FG8NUeNOIQj1OzVO_a/s640/IMG_2001.jpg" width="640" /></a> </div>
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I go paddle boarding pretty regularly. At least once a week, twice if I can coordinate schedules with my SUP buddy to make it happen.</div>
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Aside from the fact that it's without doubt one of my favorite things to do, I constantly find myself amazed by how each trip out onto the water continues to vary from the time before. We launch at the same spot nearly every time. Usually at the same time of day, same day of the week...and yet, something is always strikingly unique about the experience.</div>
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Today it was fog. Creepy as fuck, fog. There's always a little something eerie about not being able to see what floats beneath the surface, but the eerie factor multiplies by about a hundred when you also can't see what's coming or going ABOVE the surface.</div>
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Regardless, it was beautiful and as always, completely worth it.</div>
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Writing. It's kinda the same.</div>
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I mean, you'd think after writing something in the way of 20 plus love stories, they'd start to sound the same, begin to retell themselves in some way. Maybe, get boring even. For me. I don't know about you...</div>
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But somehow, they don't. Somehow, sitting down at the same time every night, at the same computer with the same coffee and the same intention of writing a romance novel, still continues to deliver new and different results.</div>
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Strange. And sort of fascinating. But I'm going to leave it there, because I'm not trying to understand (or jinx!) the hows and whys. I'm perfectly fine with a 'that's just how it is' and a 'keep on keepin' on' as long as it gets the job done.</div>
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So, there ya have it. </div>
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Some real deep thinking (yes, that's sarcasm) from someone who only slept four hours last night and hasn't had nearly enough coffee to be all that insightful but who totally thinks this was worth sharing :-P</div>
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friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-20533135542182932062016-08-07T20:38:00.000-07:002016-08-07T20:44:08.530-07:00Sarcasm. Sprinkle that stuff everywhere.<div style="text-align: justify;">
Last year, at a writer's conference, I was invited to sit on a panel about writing humor. When I told my brother (the stand up comic) about this, he asked if that was the humorous part.</div>
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He doesn't think I'm funny.</div>
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He's a jackass.</div>
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I'm hysterical.</div>
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I never set out to write funny books. Truth is, most of my books don't sound all that funny at all when you break them down to just content. But, what I do set out to do, is be real. Write real feelings. Real experiences. And sometimes, real trauma. The reality is, a joke can be made even under the worst conditions, at the most inappropriate of times. Especially, when your main source of humor stems from deep-seeded sarcasm and morbid wit. Which, incidentally, most of mine does.</div>
<span style="color: magenta;"><b><br /></b>
<b>A Place For Laughs...</b></span><br />
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I find that much like in real life, the best place to drop a funny one liner is when you least expect it. Right there in the middle of the really heavy stuff. Because books, same as life, are better with a laugh.<br />
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“Hudson. We need some magic coffee dust over here.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He cocks a half smile and hurries over. “That’s cute. Playing on my former barista job and calling me a fairy all in one shot.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Yes. Now come over here and make something happen. Just don’t whip out your wand to do it.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I shake my head. “Really? A penis reference? Is this how you’re going to be approaching this entire situation?” Actually, inappropriate jokes is how we all deal with everything. So, yeah. </div>
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~ <i>Fallen Angel (A Finding Nolan Novel)</i></div>
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One-liners are pretty much what I'm working with at all times. I'm not one for slapstick humor, or writing funny 'action' scenes. I can't get them onto paper right. By the time I'm done describing everything that's happening to set up the joke, chances are it's gotten lost somewhere along the way. I'm too long-winded to pull it off.</div>
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Dialogue. That's where it's at.</div>
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Or, if you're writing in first person, there are always ample opportunities to drop some humor into the thought process. Usually, you have even more freedom here, because we all know we think way more funny stuff than we would ever have the balls to say out loud.</div>
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Characters are no different.<br />
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Unless they are.<br />
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<b><span style="color: magenta;">That One Character Who Has Zero Filter...</span></b><br />
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Usually I'll have at least one wildcard in the bunch. One character that's allowed to say whatever pops into his or her head. I love writing these. Because I get to <i>write</i> whatever pops into <i>my</i> head. Aunt Dick in <i>With Whom We Spend Our Lives</i> is a perfect example of this sort of character. As is May in <i>I Call Him Brady</i>. Not to mention Ava from the <i>Finding Nolan</i> books. God, I miss those women.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">“I’m not going.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">She grins. “You’re going.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">I’m getting pissed. She makes me feel like a f*cking toddler, only at thirty-seven she’s not exactly old enough to be my mother. “You can’t force me.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">“True.” She takes her phone from her back pocket and begins to tap away at the screen.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">I slant my eyes suspiciously. This can’t be good. “What are you doing?”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">“Just setting a few daily reminders to call you.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">My hands drop to my sides. I already know surrender is inevitable. “And by few you mean?” </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">“Not too many. Maybe one little jingle, every fifteen minutes or so between now and the time you agree to go.” She’s got a wicked smirk on her face.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">“You can put your stupid phone away. We both know I’m going to the wedding.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">Her face lights up in mock surprise. “You are?”</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif; font-size: 11pt;"> ~ <b>Aunt Dick</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;">“F*cking idiot.” May threw one of my new hand towels at his head as he hurried from the room.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“It’s a good thing he knows you well enough to know that’s a term of endearment.” I placed the last of my folded towels back into the basket for easy transport.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , serif;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“You’re the only one who thinks it is.” </span></div>
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~<b> May</b><br />
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Vaginas didn’t scare me exactly. I mean, they seemed innocent enough, and I could see the convenience of it all, one piece fitting into the other. But I’d taken sex ed. I’d seen that sweet little flower chicks claimed they were sitting on morph into monsters big enough to spit out a watermelon on a moment’s notice. Don’t tell me there isn’t something shady about that.<br />
If straight dudes want to stick their dicks in there, I say do so at your own risk. Someday that beast may decide to swallow instead of spit, and then what the f*ck are you going to do? Be f*cking dickless, that’s what.<br />
We were in the elevator going down to the lobby when I noticed Ava was still grinning.<br />
“What?”<br />
She chuckled before she answered, “You look nervous. Thinking about penis-eating vaginas again?”<br />
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~ <b>Ava</b></div>
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<b>Why It's Important...</b></span><br />
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I don't like to cry. It's a pretty basic reason really. But there it is. I like to feel. I like to explore the depths of heartache, but dammit I want to have a laugh in between to keep from falling to pieces and winding up a sopping, sobbing mess of a puddle no longer solid enough to count for a human being. And so do my characters. If they feel the need to lighten the tension with a little humor, I let them. Because it's good for them. It's good for me. And frankly, it's good for you.</div>
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“I take it you’ve talked to him?”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I nod, busying myself by putting away the three cartons of ice cream they brought over. “Had lunch with him on Monday.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“And?” Her eyes are wide, impatient.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“And…I think it’s going to take more than one lunch to figure his ass out.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“What does that mean?” Bristol asks from the doorway, bottle of vodka still in hand.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“It means, he is an ass, but he’s hot so she’s not willing to admit it yet. Not until after he’s stomped all over her brittle, broken heart with all of his asshole hotness.” Only Layne would put it quite like that. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“You know, for someone who writes romance novels you’re not very romantic.”</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Because I know they’re fiction. I make them up. They’re not autobiographies. They’re f*cking fairy tales.”</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I shake my head, casually putting some distance between us. For safety.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“You need to stop dating men you meet on Tinder.”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
~ One More Chapter</div>
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friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-67942799570468060962016-08-04T00:02:00.002-07:002016-08-04T00:09:25.303-07:00If only all the people I've seen naked...knew I've seen them naked.I take the concept of owning everything I experience and using it as writing material very seriously. Maybe too seriously. But, I like it. I like taking reality and then twisting it around and making it pretty. Making it fiction. Because, let's be honest, reality isn't always all it's cracked up to be.<br />
<br />
Some of my stories only have a hint of real life to them. Like Save The Date, which I wrote after watching my six year old experience her first crush. The characters and the story are completely made up, the idea is not. Then there are stories like Unhurt, in which I included characters that are real people in my real world. In Unhurt I even went so far as to name the one character after the real person (with her permission of course!)<br />
<br />
Then there are those books where I can't tell if I've been extremely lazy or extraordinarily brilliant. Like One More Chapter, for example. Almost all of the characters are inspired by my brother's quirky cast of friends, the setting is his is hometown and all of the local hang outs...are all the local hang outs. The story is completely made up. I mean, completely! And really, I don't know any of his friends well enough to write characters based on them, so while I say inspired, I really mean loosely...very loosely...inspired. Possibly only in looks. And initials. Because I'm daring like that.<br />
<br />
But...while this seemed like a lot of fun when it started, as the story came to a head and my hero and heroine moved ever closer to the bedroom, I realized a distinct flaw in my operation. If I was to ever write a sex scene for this couple, I would essentially have to write a sex scene about this guy. This real guy. A guy I've met. A guy I may have to look in the eye again at some point in the future. And even if he was completely unaware of the fact that I would have seen him naked and done dirty, dirty things to him...I would not have that luxury. So, the sex scene...well, was only the kind of sex scene I could continue to maintain eye contact with.<br />
<br />
Although, it's not like I've never done it before. I have. I've written exes into books. I've used hot male friends and made them sexy naked heroes. But those were <i>my</i> people. I didn't care if they knew I saw (imagined...saw - it's all the same thing) them naked. Hell, most of them, I have seen naked. Or, naked enough. So, eye contact wasn't an issue. Or, you know, maybe it already was :-P<br />
<br />
So, the lesson here is...you own every <span style="color: cyan;">experience</span>...as well as every experience you can <span style="color: cyan;">imagine</span>...but you may want to <span style="color: cyan;">imagine</span> making eye contact with people you write about <span style="color: cyan;">after</span> you've written about them <span style="color: cyan;">before</span> you write about them. There. Made total sense.<br />
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<br />friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-56216201336449792132016-07-11T07:49:00.001-07:002016-07-11T07:49:30.447-07:00Sandwich Making Book Bitches: K.S. Thomas featured author of the week.<a href="http://smbbblog13.blogspot.com/2016/07/ks-thomas-featured-author-of-week.html?spref=bl">Sandwich Making Book Bitches: K.S. Thomas featured author of the week.</a>: This week we welcome the amazing K.S. Thomas, I am so excited to share her work. I have read several of her books and I am in love with the...friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-57392806874895426862016-07-04T08:59:00.000-07:002016-07-04T09:01:21.272-07:004th of July Summer of Reading Giveaway!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img alt="FinishedSummerofReadingGiveaway$100GC" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-9698" src="http://www.promotionalbooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/FinishedSummerofReadingGiveaway100GC.jpg" height="300" width="400" /> </div>
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Welcome to the 4th of July Summer of Reading Giveaway!</div>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The authors below are offering up $150 Amazon Gift Card to you can get your read on!</div>
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Please check out the books below, some are Free, Free with KU, or Inexpensive.</div>
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<strong>Young Adult </strong></div>
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<a href="http://amzn.to/29Bma6k"><img alt="Awaken3" class="alignnone wp-image-9699 size-medium" src="http://www.promotionalbooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/Awaken3-200x300.jpg" height="300" width="200" /></a><a href="http://amzn.to/29Bm52c"><img alt="scales cover" class="alignnone wp-image-9700 size-medium" src="http://www.promotionalbooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/scales-cover-196x300.jpg" height="300" width="196" /></a></div>
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<strong>Sweet Romance</strong></div>
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<strong>Contemporary Romance </strong></div>
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<a href="http://amzn.to/29BuHG2" rel="attachment wp-att-9704"><img alt="12764573_10153649882554145_9175444023325309797_o" class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-9704" src="http://www.promotionalbooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/12764573_10153649882554145_9175444023325309797_o-183x300.jpg" height="300" width="183" /></a><a href="http://amzn.to/299Qza6" rel="attachment wp-att-9705"><img alt="overthefence" class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-9705" src="http://www.promotionalbooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/overthefence-198x300.jpg" height="300" width="198" /></a><a href="http://amzn.to/29eQsM5" rel="attachment wp-att-9706"><img alt="OMC.Ebook" class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-9706" src="http://www.promotionalbooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/OMC.Ebook_-200x300.jpg" height="300" width="200" /></a><a href="http://amzn.to/297RNSS" rel="attachment wp-att-9707"><img alt="TVBM_med (3)" class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-9707" src="http://www.promotionalbooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/TVBM_med-3-188x300.jpg" height="300" width="188" /></a></div>
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<strong>Women's Fiction</strong></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Annie-Crow-Knoll-Gail-Priest-ebook/dp/B00MT6OWSY?ie=UTF8&keywords=annie%20crow%20knoll%20sunset&qid=1408376530&ref_=sr_1_1&sr=8-1" rel="attachment wp-att-9708"><img alt="a1424432-000b-4721-bedc-6ba0c81db2ea[1]" class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-9708" src="http://www.promotionalbooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/a1424432-000b-4721-bedc-6ba0c81db2ea1-194x300.jpg" height="300" width="194" /></a></div>
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<strong>Paranormal Romance / Urban Fantasy</strong></div>
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<a href="http://amzn.to/29aM6Vr" rel="attachment wp-att-9709"><img alt="eBook" class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-9709" src="http://www.promotionalbooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/eBook-197x300.jpg" height="300" width="197" /></a><a href="http://amzn.to/29aM9Rj" rel="attachment wp-att-9710"><img alt="Caelum proof" class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-9710" src="http://www.promotionalbooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/Caelum-proof-194x300.jpg" height="300" width="194" /></a><a href="http://amzn.to/29cFM1Q" rel="attachment wp-att-9711"><img alt="nightoftrouble" class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-9711" src="http://www.promotionalbooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/nightoftrouble-200x300.jpg" height="300" width="200" /></a><a href="http://amzn.to/29eRcAT" rel="attachment wp-att-9712"><img alt="enlightened" class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-9712" src="http://www.promotionalbooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/enlightened-200x300.jpg" height="300" width="200" /></a><a href="http://amzn.to/29aM1kK" rel="attachment wp-att-9713"><img alt="cover 300 resolution" class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-9713" src="http://www.promotionalbooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/cover-300-resolution-200x300.jpg" height="300" width="200" /></a></div>
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<strong>Science Fiction</strong></div>
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<a href="http://amzn.to/29cGpIH" rel="attachment wp-att-9714"><img alt="13566113_10209771659548458_558734560_n" class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-9714" src="http://www.promotionalbooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/13566113_10209771659548458_558734560_n-200x300.jpg" height="300" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Want to win a $150 Amazon Gift Card? Follow the authors in the rafflecopter below for a chance. Open WW 18+ Ends July 20, 2016 @ 11:59 PM EST</div>
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<a class="rcptr" data-raflid="9b80e99a839" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/9b80e99a839/" id="rcwidget_zpb9wcne" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a></div>
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friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-51233288444551390542016-04-11T08:51:00.000-07:002016-04-11T08:51:38.019-07:00One More Chapter is LIVE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITa5rhrNmNIN3cJFWAQBSOo5sHI1J-QEcy-9cXo5Q1p7JA4ikBWo1tpEnZTZtpa_9jPRmS-uKvZYCqzjPEGOAF20BFAnOMSyPJJ7RawGvY10EF9ZaKtt1eaBalWARyb2nuWiJTqb1GKOV/s1600/OMCtitleandtag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITa5rhrNmNIN3cJFWAQBSOo5sHI1J-QEcy-9cXo5Q1p7JA4ikBWo1tpEnZTZtpa_9jPRmS-uKvZYCqzjPEGOAF20BFAnOMSyPJJ7RawGvY10EF9ZaKtt1eaBalWARyb2nuWiJTqb1GKOV/s400/OMCtitleandtag.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: magenta;"><br /></span>
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<b><span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">One More Chapter</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b>A New Contemporary Romance by K.S. Thomas</b></div>
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<b>Cover Art by Najla Qamber Designs (www.najlaqamberdesigns.com)</b></div>
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<b>Photo by Laura Carlson of LCPhotoart</b></div>
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<b>Model: Mikhaila Hamilton</b></div>
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<a href="http://amzn.com/B01DYDFRSE" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP8LD0a_uWe3dLChDd8QmW8CcZy24x1qoQiEpX3J5V_JFJhXHy2Y4lNbZfY-Hn6dh7jkBS1vc8YM417tqQZVt2TwMJ9GClF9Lr1YOvm1GCZAtdvS0t6nezJaw6DZy6Mv8wW8JmnaA2dnzN/s400/3DOMC.JPG" width="316" /></a></div>
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Having overdosed on the cold, unyielding aspects of reality at an early age, books became a welcome escape I was happy to dedicate my life to. Editing romance novels seemed like the perfect career choice for the girl who craved fantasy and a world she could exercise a little control over. Bottom line, I like having a happy ending I can count on.</div>
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Until...Jensen.</div>
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Where I prefer to have my head in the clouds, unattached to the tumultuous roller-coaster of real life, his feet are so firmly planted on the ground, they're sinking in and getting buried there.</div>
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Jensen seems an unlikely hero for any story, let alone mine. He's moody. And confused. And pretty damn sure there's no such thing as happy ever after.</div>
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</div>
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But then that's the thing about all the best happy endings. They show up when you least expect them to.</div>
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<a href="http://amzn.com/B01DYDFRSE" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd1jhP6c98JAQUZTL958tAqVXkcpkZEWbSLvqHAoYAcnA6LbB0To6ER03hOPk4S79n2zAEOEGaVk6P44WQBkM0dnHf7YeWyxq6GEkcMcRx7kS3N6lVXTBdSsuraNheT7Q_JegTxtWzJF4R/s400/I+don%25E2%2580%2599t+know+how+to+walk+away+from+you+this+time%252C+Karma.+But+I+can%25E2%2580%2599t+stay.+I+have+nothing+left+to+give+you+if+I+stay%25E2%2580%25A6+And+plenty+I+want+to+take.%25E2%2580%259D.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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“I don’t know how to do this.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Which part?” Because if it’s a simple matter of explaining the polite way to end a casual weekend sleepover, which incidentally was sex free, I can help him out no problem. Anything beyond that and we’re probably both in over our heads here. </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Finally, his gaze moves to meet mine. Only now I feel compelled to look away.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Walking away. It's the right thing to do. It's what you should have done when I told you to. But you didn't. And you made me do it. And I did." He pauses to take a deep, painful breath but his eyes never waver from mine. “Then you came back and now... I don’t know how to walk away from you this time, Karma. But I can’t stay. I have nothing left to give you if I stay… And plenty I want to take.” </div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“What if you can have it?” I breathe.</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He shakes his head slowly. “I can’t.”</div>
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Why not?” </div>
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“Because it would be wrong.” </div>
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I swallow hard several times, the intensity wearing on me. “Maybe it would be wrong not to. Maybe there’s a reason neither of us can figure out how to walk away even though walking away would clearly be less complicated. Maybe we’re not supposed to.”</div>
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“I don’t want to hurt you.”</div>
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“Then stop trying to pretend this isn’t happening. Whatever it is, you and me, it’s something. It’s real.”</div>
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He exhales loudly, his chin dropping to his chest and I breathe in until the air fills my stomach, making up for the shallow breathing I succumbed to during this conversation.</div>
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His hand is still in my hair, his wrist loosely resting on my collar bone. Who is he kidding? He can’t walk away. He can’t even let go.</div>
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Then he realizes it too. His grip on my curls tightens and when his jaw rises up enough for him to look down on me, the brazen look in his eyes is beyond anything I’ve ever seen in them before.</div>
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“I’m going to fuck this up,” he whispers.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
“Probably,” I say quietly, “but you might get it right. It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”</div>
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“You’re crazy,” he murmurs, his mouth moving dangerously close to mine.</div>
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“Certifiably.” And I close the gap between us just to prove it.</div>
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<a href="http://amzn.com/B01DYDFRSE" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="383" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK0DkTmWi2on_WkyvwwIp0GT90DDz5IYynFH66haXSHrNJsc9LhR_LJ2cwl1TvGY6TthR3iTaOJiBcpXz_rbOeF4_VTDoQcsCMXTtysiltjmy-UZbBdA4evDWTDEXfJ4kgF6TiKoFF1kBM/s400/OMCteaser.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: magenta;"><b>Snag your copy now while it's only 99 Cents!! ~ <span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">http://amzn.com/B01DYDFRSE</span></b></span></div>
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friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-13779638790902491432016-04-03T21:18:00.001-07:002016-04-03T21:22:48.586-07:00"Feminism killed chivalry" I'm sorry...what now?!<div style="text-align: justify;">
Facebook statuses are cool and all, but I find the comments tend to be a lot more entertaining. So, that's where I was when I found this gem last night ~</div>
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<b><span style="color: magenta;">"Feminism killed chivalry."</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: magenta;">And some douche who replied, "Amen." right below it.</span></b></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
Initially, I did find the ignorance humorous, and briefly considered leaving a vocabulary lesson in the comments below. But, I don't tend to engage, and it wasn't my page...so, not wanting to piss off my friend's idiot friends out of respect for said friend, I passed on responding.</div>
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That was then. Now, I've had twenty-four hours to stew in it, and I've decided, fuck it - I'm going to say my piece. I'm just going to do it here.</div>
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So, let's start at the top.</div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: magenta;">Feminism: the belief that men and women should have equal rights and opportunities.</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: magenta;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: magenta;">Chivalry: an honorable and polite way of behaving, especially toward women</span></b></div>
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Tell me again how feminism killed chivalry. Because I see no correlation between the two. If chivalry is dead for you boys, it's because you let it die by not being chivalrous. It's that fucking simple.</div>
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But it's cool. Just blame that shit on women wanting equal rights. It is, after all, the root of all evil.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Meanwhile, let's explore the much deeper underlying issue I believe you were trying to address when you made your ridiculous statement. </div>
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<b><span style="color: magenta;">Strong, independent women are emasculating men and no longer appreciate true (super manly) gentlemen.</span></b></div>
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It sounds less ignorant, but it's not.</div>
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As a romance author, I can tell you without doubt, that today's woman is starving, STARVING!! for the strong, alpha males you ding dongs think have gone out of style. Don't believe me? Go google how much money women spent on romance novels last year. Then google current popular trends in the same genre. If you have one handy, ask an author busy churning out novels starring billionaires, badass bikers, fighters, soldiers and rock stars. Business is booming. Because they all have one thing in common. A strong, powerful male lead who's protective, loyal and honors his responsibilities.</div>
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From where I'm sitting, it's not the women who are causing the problem by asserting themselves, standing up for their own worth and taking charge of their own destinies. It's the men who refuse to evolve and meet them at their new (higher) level of standards. </div>
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You can't have a moderately successful career, two roommates at your bachelor pad while having marginally managed to keep a cactus alive and then think you're going to roll up on a woman who's busy busting ass and taking names while she works her day job, raises her kids and still finds a way to not look like she doesn't sleep (which she doesn't) and has time to work out (which she doesn't) thinking she's going to be impressed. She's not. What the hell are you bringing to the table? Your ability to open a damn door? Thanks. I got that.</div>
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<b><span style="color: magenta;">Chivalry is a wonderful thing. But it's so much bigger than picking up the tab or holding a door.</span></b></div>
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Feminism.</div>
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The belief that men and women should have equal rights.</div>
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Such an important word and yet, it's so often completely misunderstood. Turned ugly.</div>
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You know what's ugly?</div>
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<br /></div>
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That in 2016, I can sit in the audience at a comedy show and listen to a comic make jokes about his woman needing a beating and hear the loud roar of male laughter all around me.</div>
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That last night, I caught part of a movie in which a woman was duped into sleeping with a man she didn't know. A stranger. When she believed she was safely in bed with her husband. And again, it was intended to be funny.</div>
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It's not. It's rape. </div>
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It's 2016 and we live in a society where we still can't tell the difference between a joke and horrific crimes against women.</div>
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So, no. Feminism hasn't killed chivalry. Hell, it's barely put a dent in the evil shit it's meant to snuff out.</div>
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I suppose you're wondering right about now what any of this has to do with books and writing.<br />
<br />
Nothing.<br />
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Except, I'm an author. And a feminist. And every single fierce, fiery female character I write falls for a hero who for damn sure is doing his part to keep chivalry alive and kicking. She wouldn't waste her time on him if he wasn't. </div>
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<br /></div>
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And neither would I.</div>
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<br />
<br />friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-8039253747446777642016-02-24T00:27:00.001-08:002016-02-24T00:27:39.043-08:00In case anyone is wondering...<div style="text-align: justify;">
Anyone else feel like it's been ages since I released a book? No? Maybe it's just me, but it's driving me nuts and definitely causing me a fair share of anxiety. Apparently, hitting publish is the drug no one warns you about, because I need a fix and I need it bad.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Unfortunately, I'm not going to get one. Not right now. But, the good news is, I have something in the works. Something new. Something I hope you're all going to love as much as I've loved writing it. I'm probably eighty percent done with it, and at the rate it's been flowing out of me, I'm hoping to have the last bit written out within the week, making for a complete first draft. From there, it'll be all edits and beta readers and more editing and proof readers and so on and so forth, BUT if all goes according to plan, I should be able to feel that publishing high again by the end of next month.</div>
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In the meantime, I'm going to publish this little beauty here to hold me over :-D</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwoUhyvhuG1BFHf5InSO4PxHc2cBrEO5Wgtielb4FUZozMvUYRoqxMXKkOXOgYPClIUy7-fRZMNP2tkgTfhyHBP_Vrxw0y491o_jGvn16T0RYDSKVx3ZYjScdZro6ko9fgAet9Lpwv2eaP/s1600/OMC6x9_BW_450+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwoUhyvhuG1BFHf5InSO4PxHc2cBrEO5Wgtielb4FUZozMvUYRoqxMXKkOXOgYPClIUy7-fRZMNP2tkgTfhyHBP_Vrxw0y491o_jGvn16T0RYDSKVx3ZYjScdZro6ko9fgAet9Lpwv2eaP/s640/OMC6x9_BW_450+%25282%2529.jpg" width="436" /></a></div>
<br />friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-91010329480220544072016-02-11T08:48:00.000-08:002016-02-11T08:48:17.495-08:00#IABBAddict: Pucked by Rachel Walter<div 13px="" 18.2px="" arial="" font-family:="" font-size:="" helvetica="" justify="" line-height:="" sans-serif="" text-align:="">
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Check out <span class="IL_AD" id="IL_AD3" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-color: transparent; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 50%; background-repeat: repeat; border-bottom-color: rgb(103 , 176 , 69); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; color: #67b045; cursor: pointer; display: inline; float: none; font-size: 16px; padding: 0px 0px 1px; position: static; text-decoration: underline;">more information</span> on #IABBAddicts </span><a href="http://www.platypire.com/iabbaddict.html" style="color: rgb(76, 170, 201) !important; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">here</span></a><br />
<strong>Join us every Thursday for IABB <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Indie-Authors-Book-Blogs-591593830928326" style="color: rgb(76, 170, 201) !important; text-decoration: none;">#Confessions</a></strong></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">ABOUT THE BOOK</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1421383321l/18813191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #3c1f00; float: left; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1421383321l/18813191.jpg" width="212" /></a><br />
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<b>Author</b>: Rachel Walter</div>
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<b>Title</b>: Pucked</div>
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<b>Pages</b>: 328</div>
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<b>Genre</b>: Young Adult Contemporary</div>
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<b>Date published</b>: February 8, 2015</div>
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<b>Synopsis</b>:</div>
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Does life get in the way of love or does love get in the way of life?</div>
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Riley Silk, captain of the Warrior’s Ice Hockey team at Dalesburg High, doesn’t think life can be lived if love is present. If there’s two things in life he knows to be true, it’s that love causes pain and hockey is his ticket to a better life. He’s worked hard to maintain his Frozen Silk reputation in order to stay focused on his duties and goals.</div>
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Audrey Jacobs, the Warrior’s number one fan, believes life can’t be lived without love. She can find love and beauty in the muddiest of situations. Her best friend, Riley, is under a lot of stress at home, so she does her best to brighten his mood whenever she can.</div>
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When lines cross and blur, they struggle to keep control of the simplicity their friendship once held. With Audrey’s outlook on life usually surrounded by light, the growing darkness of her doubts and insecurities threaten to deflect her toward the wrong path. </div>
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Can she find her true self before her world burns around her? When truths become lies, can Riley find the strength to fight his way through his own personal darkness that clings to his mind and soul? Can he win this face-off that life has dropped in his zone, or will fate take him out of the game completely?</div>
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Who keeps the puck?</div>
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**Warning- Several abuse topics are discussed in this story, which includes parental alienation, physical abuse, alcohol abuse, and mild drug abuse.**</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://amzn.to/1nBkb7a" target="_blank">AMAZON</a> // <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18813191-pucked" target="_blank">GOODREADS</a></span></div>
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<b style="color: #464760; font-family: Lilly; line-height: 19.5px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">EXCERPT</span></b></div>
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I growl and force my anger into my next swing. The puck completely misses the net, bouncing off the cement wall.</div>
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Audrey’s not leaving this town. Yeah, she’s trying to care for Hannah, but she’s leaving me.</div>
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My hopeful heart drops and I kick the bag again, using the blade of the plastic stick to set up the new line of victims. Each puck has a different face.</div>
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My father.</div>
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For leaving us the way he did for another woman.</div>
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He gets another.</div>
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He broke my mother’s heart to the point that she’s not even the same woman she was five years ago.</div>
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He started this domino effect of bullshit, and for that, he gets a third.</div>
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My mother.</div>
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For letting a man break her down so badly that she can’t function properly.</div>
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She gets another.</div>
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She’s forgotten that she’s a mother. I’m not old enough to care for my baby sister properly, not in the parental way she deserves. I still need a mom, but at least I’m old enough to figure things out on my own.</div>
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My mother gets another puck just for hurting my baby sister by ignoring her like she does. It smashes into the wall.</div>
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Another puck with her face, because it’s her fault that Audrey wants to stay here. Audrey can see that Hannah needs a mother. So why can’t Mom see it?</div>
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I kick the bag again, lining up another row.</div>
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She gets one more, for bringing another man into our house, causing a whole different world of shit for us.</div>
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I tap a puck forward, glaring at it.</div>
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This one’s for Ted.</div>
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I purposefully miss the net this time. Smashing the puck into the wall so hard I hear it crack as it rattles across the floor.</div>
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One more for Ted.</div>
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His alcohol addiction nearly ended everything I know and love in one night with his drunken rage.</div>
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My mother gets another puck. This one’s for bringing the man that beat her, almost to death, in front of my baby sister last year back into our home. I purposefully crash it into the wall again.</div>
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I smash yet another into the cement wall.</div>
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For bringing the man who hit my baby sister because she wouldn’t stop crying, back into our lives.</div>
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Todd.</div>
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For asking my Audrey out and kissing her.</div>
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My stick hooks around the last puck.</div>
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It gets my face.</div>
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For being a coward and not asking my girl to be my girl, for not telling her how I’ve felt for years, for lying, and for hurting her feelings. This puck gets my face for not being a stronger man and calling the police to press charges against Ted.</div>
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The puck glances off the post and flies my way.</div>
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On instinct, I drop to my knees so I don’t get hit, and hear a soft gasp followed by an echoing thud of a body hitting the floor.</div>
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friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-36724886761333868102016-02-08T08:10:00.000-08:002016-02-08T08:10:37.709-08:00Bad Reviews and How To Handle Them<div style="text-align: justify;">
Bad reviews suck. Seriously. There’s no other way to put it. I remember the first time I got one and I was literally crushed for days. It didn’t matter that twenty other random readers had left glowing 5 star reviews, because that one person, that one reader, she had thought it was the biggest piece of crap to ever hit the kindle. I mean it. She tore into everything. The story line, the characters, the editing. Then she even went so far as to say that I had ripped off a song to write the book. </div>
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It was horrible. </div>
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It was humiliating. </div>
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It was hurtful. </div>
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It was her opinion. And let’s face it. We all have those.</div>
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I’m not looking to give up mine or my right to express them, are you?</div>
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Now, you’re probably saying – No of course not, but there’s a wrong and a right way of doing things and these people are just trying to be mean on purpose.</div>
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Okay.</div>
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So what?</div>
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It comes down to the same thing I tell my seven year old when someone is being mean to her. You cannot control how other people act. You can only control how you respond.</div>
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And I get that it’s easier said than done. I’ve seen the bad, ugly and the obscene of those reviews. Especially on Goodreads. Holy shit. Those people go all out, don’t they?! I mean, you almost have to wonder if this is their only creative outlet. And book bashing or not, some of them are hysterical. I have to commend the bad reviewers for the amount of thought that goes into every one of them. Animated images and all. I mean, think about how strongly they must feel about what you’ve written to spend that much time on putting their thoughts together after. Personally, I think if you’re at the receiving end of one of those, you should give yourself a nice big pat on the back ~ You INSPIRED someone today! Maybe not in the way you had intended, but in the end, your work spoke to them so intensely that they couldn’t just let it go. And no matter which way you spin it, that my fellow writers, is a compliment.</div>
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Anytime a new piece of art goes out into the world, the artist risks complete and utter ridicule. The more raw and honest the work, the greater the chances of someone coming along and shitting all over it. That’s just how it is. You can’t go around flying your freak flag and expect everyone to appreciate it. They won’t. Some people will go out of their way to tell you that you’re wrong. That you’re stupid and you suck. That’s the price of being different in this society. The reward is in all of the people who connect with you and your work and see the beauty and courage in what you’ve done. Everyone has to decide for themselves which one outweighs the other.</div>
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Bottom line: You get a bad review - You suck it up and move on.</div>
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You do not comment.</div>
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You do not inquire why they felt this way.</div>
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You do not FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY IN PUBLISHING explain why they didn't get your work of art.</div>
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You do not email, Facebook, Tweet or send smoke signals. I repeat, you do not make contact in ANY way.</div>
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You also do not get your friends or family to do any of the above.</div>
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Because it's not personal. Even when it feels that way. And - this is important - I promise you it will not have a negative effect on your sales in the long run. In fact, it has been said time and time again, that negative reviews can actually INCREASE sales because readers become skeptical of books with only glowing 5 and 4 star reviews and feel a book has more validity when less than stellar reviews are also present. Meaning someone other than your mother and best friend has read the book. </div>
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So, you got a 1 star? Congrats. You've made it. Your book is legit now.</div>
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Better start writing the next one...</div>
friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-59458214376329253142016-02-07T06:00:00.000-08:002016-02-07T06:00:15.902-08:00Promo Tour featuring Lyssa Layne<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: x-large;">CATCH MY HEART: </span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">A VALENTINE'S COLLECTION</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">LYSSA LAYNE</span>
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<b>GENRE</b>: Contemporary Romance </div>
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<b>COVER DESIGNER:</b> <a href="http://www.friedgatortail.com/" target="_blank">KS Thomas</a>
The stories found within the pages are outtakes from some of your favorite Lyssa Layne books.
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No one said love was easy. No one said love was perfect. No one said love didn't hurt. No one said love would last forever. </div>
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Follow these characters from your favorite Lyssa Layne books as they experience Valentine's Day in an unexpected, non-traditional fashion… </div>
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<b>Love is a Fire/Burst Into Flame</b> - Andy Garrity lost the love of his life almost three years ago. Giving in to his daughter-in-laws, he decides it's time to get back in the saddle and go on a first date for the first time since high school. Before he even meets his mate, Andy's having second thoughts and ready to pass on this opportunity at love. </div>
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<b>Everybody's After Love/My Favorite What If </b>- James Paul and Brianna Rossi are expecting their second child in less than a month. Brianna can't wait to have a daughter while James Paul is thrilled to have a new princess to spoil. Brianna has the perfect day planned for her husband until she’s blindsided in a way she never imagined. </div>
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<b>Loved by the Linebacker</b> - Recovering from a torn ACL, Blake Purser isn't used to taking it easy. He also isn't used to not having his best friend, Camila Lemos, spend more time with her boyfriend and his brother Evan than him. His long-time on-again, off-again girlfriend, Molly Feiser, is doing her best to entertain him during the off season but Blake isn't prepared for her latest news. </div>
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<b>Holding the Other</b> - Lee Maverick and Miranda Wallen are the king and queen of country music. The married couple have ruled the charts for the last ten years and fans love the chemistry between them. Before the night is over, this Valentine's Day will be one for the records. </div>
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<b>My Favorite What If</b> - Sloan Talbott and Jacob "Smitty" Smith are spending their first Valentine's Day as a couple. In the short time they've been together, they've carved out the perfect nook for just the two of them. Having spent the last six months in Italy, it's time they head back to the States and learn to be together with their meddling families surrounding them 24/7. </div>
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Love's not easy. Love's not perfect. Love hurts. Love doesn't last forever. Can these couples endure love at its ugliest or will it break them down more than they can endure?</div>
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“Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your heart or burn your house down, you can never tell.” -Joan Crawford </div>
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Dr. Katy Malone has sworn off love after losing those she loves most in her life including her father, a member of the FDNY. She has decided to spend her time focusing on her medical research. Her ex-fiancée, and fellow doctor, isn't ready to give up on loving her though. </div>
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Firefighter Nick Garrity is on a search for the future Mrs. Garrity. As he pushes thirty, with no prospects in sight, he's afraid he'll never find her. A devoted member of FDNY, he loves the thrill of his job and the satisfaction it brings him. He strives to teach the proby firefighter, Patrick Doyle, the ropes and pass on his passion to him. </div>
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When Doyle tries to impress the guys on the crew, he ends up in the care of Dr. Katy Malone. One look at Dr. Malone and Nick knows he's found his future wife but can he convince her to love again?</div>
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“In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.” </div>
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-Albert Schweitzer </div>
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For Dr. Katy Garrity, life is a whirlwind, and the New York Fire Department is the heart of the storm. After claiming so many people she loved, including her own husband, Katy is left adrift, trying to keep up with a busy career, a baby son, and her loving extended family. </div>
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Her only anchor is Jesse O'Neil, her late husband's best friend. The charming former playboy has put his entire life on hold to care for Katy and her son. It's inevitable that sparks will flare between them, but all of life seems to be conspiring to keep them apart. Especially Katy's own heart, which shies away from trusting another firefighter. </div>
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Will the flames of passion burst into a lifetime of love? Or will secrets burn away their connection, causing Dr. Garrity to be burned again?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijmKLHycP9eZ7hfpny6ea_0V7hyphenhyphen67HEG43AU5ZpX2HNGLkPIWPuTGZNy_Zk3Xmwh2eXxhWYmEvzBh6tPePWPwIMTzOoPzAFXj8YLjBHW0W5B2KL22eruD2ro1sEV1fp86lLvj8vEDW9VZ8/s1600/coverEAL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijmKLHycP9eZ7hfpny6ea_0V7hyphenhyphen67HEG43AU5ZpX2HNGLkPIWPuTGZNy_Zk3Xmwh2eXxhWYmEvzBh6tPePWPwIMTzOoPzAFXj8YLjBHW0W5B2KL22eruD2ro1sEV1fp86lLvj8vEDW9VZ8/s200/coverEAL.jpg" width="130" /></a>Jules Rossi’s world is about to be turned upside down when her big brother, Paulie, announces his engagement. Having been raised by her brother after their parents died, she’s used to him being her knight in shining armor and isn’t ready to share him with anyone else. </div>
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Throughout all the wedding festivities, Jules’ path continues to cross with Paulie’s future brother-in-law, Bentley Ladner. Bentley soon begins to take on Paulie’s role in Jules’ life, which neither of the Rossi siblings is too sure about. Can Jules cope with the secrets Bentley is keeping? Or will she lose his support when she finally decides to give love a chance? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kKzcfWeM2ieGTdeWTzTMPMO6FQ9dZBaU7ynwX8eNGcwHmN5orSANon79Auxjpx4GZY4Pyms1u9wDCeU5SfRLRVwKmtmVo38V-M3fOqiGV2D4XVxDiRYbpOdBTKHVGZyizqGRK5zl7_bD/s1600/81ImQYrl3tL._SL1500_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kKzcfWeM2ieGTdeWTzTMPMO6FQ9dZBaU7ynwX8eNGcwHmN5orSANon79Auxjpx4GZY4Pyms1u9wDCeU5SfRLRVwKmtmVo38V-M3fOqiGV2D4XVxDiRYbpOdBTKHVGZyizqGRK5zl7_bD/s200/81ImQYrl3tL._SL1500_.jpg" width="143" /></a>In a man's world, Camila Lemos is one of the top sports agents in the market. The athletes beg for her attention, not just for business, but in the bedroom as well. However, feisty Brazilian beauty Camila is more than meets the eye and refuses to become involved with any of her clients, no exceptions. </div>
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Linebacker Evan Purser is the newest man in his family to join the NFL. Guided by his older brother and fellow teammate, he signs with Camila. Once the agent and the linebacker meet, anything but sparks fly. </div>
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As the tension rises, so do the feelings for one another, but neither will admit it. Evan can’t let go of the past. Camila’s not sure she can risk her reputation for love. When the walls are broken down, will a touchdown be scored or will it be yet another fumble for both?
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On Valentine's Day, Country Music King Lee Maverick's life took a drastic turn when his wife, fellow country crooner Miranda Wallen, asked him for a divorce. It's exactly what both of them wanted but after ten years touring together, Maverick is unsure what his career will be like without Miranda. </div>
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Kyle Kelly, or KK as her friends call her, has been waiting for her big break into the country music scene. After another broken heart from a local guitar player, KK decides to give up on her musical aspirations, but her best friend, Brianna Rossi, refuses to let it go that easily.</div>
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Thanks to her best friend, KK joins the newly divorced Maverick in his singing endeavors. After spending the first part of the tour fighting their attraction for one another, they finally give in to the inevitable. Both think they've found their happiness... until Maverick's ex wants back in the picture, exactly where she left off.</div>
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One year after Jacob "Smitty" Smith is stood up at the altar, his good friend Jules encourages him to redeem his honeymoon package before it expires. Reluctantly, he agrees, and finds himself sitting beside free spirit Sloan Talbott, who is attending her sister's destination wedding at the same resort. Both have been hurt. Neither is looking for love. Will one week in paradise be a fling to remember or could it possibly lead to something more?</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://amzn.to/1PYLcrR" target="_blank">Amazon</a> ~ <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27408450-catch-my-heart" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs9p9J14hf44tmQ74AB93W3DorRZ8e56-VXn7M2Z_WIYnOJT6zMCItsG4n62G-jv1mSz7SOO3yn6qrSnLiUm48QAqQYAWNFWKCf-GyLaUSxhFvsCiB6NgjhpAZiOgZsrpgJdhyphenhyphenIvD4QOz-/s1600/authorpic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs9p9J14hf44tmQ74AB93W3DorRZ8e56-VXn7M2Z_WIYnOJT6zMCItsG4n62G-jv1mSz7SOO3yn6qrSnLiUm48QAqQYAWNFWKCf-GyLaUSxhFvsCiB6NgjhpAZiOgZsrpgJdhyphenhyphenIvD4QOz-/s200/authorpic.jpg" width="141" /></a></div>
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-d7a801c6-efdc-4388-f86c-ded64e0e59a4">Lyssa Layne is first, and foremost, the proud momma to her precious daughter, AR. In addition to working full-time and being a mommy to AR, she is also an avid St. Louis Cardinals fan, a runner, blogger, and an infertility survivor.</span></div>
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-d7a801c6-efdc-4388-f86c-ded64e0e59a4">Having watched one too many medical dramas and being inspired by author Rachelle Ayala, who introduced her to the world of indie writing, Lyssa decided to try her hand at writing a romance story. Her attempt turned into the Burning Lovesick series. You can find Lyssa's own interests throughout her stories although all stories are fictional.</span></div>
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<a href="http://amzn.to/1K3Hf9r" target="_blank">AMAZON</a> <span style="font-size: large;">✯ </span><a href="http://www.lyssalayne.com/" target="_blank">WEBSITE</a> <span style="font-size: large;">✯</span> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/lyssalayne/" target="_blank">FACEBOOK</a> <span style="font-size: large;">✯</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8280977.Lyssa_Layne" target="_blank">GOODREADS</a> <span style="font-size: large;">✯ </span><a href="https://twitter.com/layne_lyssa" target="_blank">TWITTER</a>
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friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-20921061408025445792016-02-05T09:41:00.000-08:002016-02-05T09:41:27.351-08:00#FunnyStory Friday ~ Coffee<br />
Funny story.<br />
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Yesterday afternoon I was so tired, I made a fourteen ounce cup of coffee...with my mug next to the Keurig.</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="giphy-embed" frameborder="0" height="494" src="//giphy.com/embed/qIWMmNA7C4N1u" width="480"></iframe><a href="http://giphy.com/gifs/what-helena-bonham-carter-confused-qIWMmNA7C4N1u">via GIPHY</a></div>
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Yup.</div>
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I don't know what was more devastating. Hearing the sound of the coffee maker finishing up and looking over to see NO cup of coffee, or realizing I'd wasted an entire cup of the life saving elixir. Good news is, that little grate you put your cup on (when you remember) holds more liquid than you'd think... </div>
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So...that was my laugh (and cry) of the week. Share yours in the comments below :-D </div>
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Because life is a comedy and we should all have a laugh about it on a regular basis to remember that...</div>
friedgatortailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00699830766951584074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966699663280033932.post-41748864479253459452016-02-04T09:00:00.000-08:002016-02-04T10:03:49.532-08:00#IABBAddict Featured Author: The Artist's Touch by S. H. Pratt<div style="background-color: white; color: #464760; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Check out <span class="IL_AD" id="IL_AD3" style="background-attachment: scroll; background-color: transparent; background-image: none; background-position: 0% 50%; background-repeat: repeat; border-bottom-color: rgb(103 , 176 , 69); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; color: #67b045; cursor: pointer; display: inline; float: none; font-size: 16px; padding: 0px 0px 1px; position: static; text-decoration: underline;">more information</span> on #IABBAddicts </span><a href="http://www.platypire.com/iabbaddict.html" style="color: rgb(76, 170, 201) !important; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">here</span></a><br />
<strong>Join us every Thursday for IABB <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Indie-Authors-Book-Blogs-591593830928326" style="color: rgb(76, 170, 201) !important; text-decoration: none;">#Confessions</a></strong></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">ABOUT THE BOOK</span></b></div>
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<b>Author</b>: S. H. Pratt</div>
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<b>Title</b>: The Artist's Touch</div>
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<b>Series</b>: The Artist's Touch, #1</div>
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<b>Pages</b>: 314</div>
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<b>Genre</b>: Contemporary Romance</div>
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<b>Date published</b>: <span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19px;">November 20, 2015</span></div>
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<b>Synopsis</b>:</div>
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<span id="freeText8623375332661736642" style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Exhausted, disillusioned and disgusted with her life in Los Angeles, Clarice “Rissa” Daniels leaves a successful acting career for the comforts of home in Olympia, Washington. Embracing a simpler life without the overabundance of testosterone that she’d dealt with in California, she works to recover and rebuild her life without the “Hollywood craziness”, away from the toxic presence of her ex-boyfriend, and far from the paparazzi. When a walk in the park drops her into the lap of Spencer St. George, she finds herself drawn to his quiet, unobtrusive demeanor, but Rissa quickly realizes that there is much more to the bespectacled middle-school art teacher.<br />Spencer St. George prefers the quiet life far from the hassles created by his family. Known as “Saint” to his students, he creates his own sense of peace with a paint brush in his hand while standing behind an easel. When Rissa Daniels crashes headlong into his life, Spencer is sent reeling. Unsure of her intentions, but drawn to her gregarious personality, he finds himself stepping out from behind his easel and daring to hope for more than his quiet life.<br />But as Spencer and Rissa grow closer, history threatens to destroy them. Met with righteous reticence from his family and stubborn pride from hers, the couple sets out to discover the events that turned their families against each other. As the past begins to surface, the present becomes dangerous, creating an uncertainty that could bind Spencer and Rissa together… or drive them apart forever.</span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://amzn.to/1JWFdb7" target="_blank">AMAZON</a> // <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/26887765-the-artist-s-touch" target="_blank">GOODREADS</a></span></div>
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<b style="color: #464760; font-family: Lilly; line-height: 19.5px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">EXCERPT</span></b></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; line-height: normal; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Excuse me?” Spencer asked in a low tone, unsure he’d heard the challenge in her voice correctly.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; line-height: normal; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; line-height: normal; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, artist man, you heard me. Let me take you out, we’ll have dinner, get to know each other and you can learn that I’m not who you think.” Rissa proposed. Spencer took his glasses from his face and rubbed his eyes.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; line-height: normal; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; line-height: normal; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Are you asking me out on a date?” he asked, unable to keep the incredulity out of his voice.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; line-height: normal; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; line-height: normal; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, Spencer St. George, I am. Do you dare?” Rissa asked.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; line-height: normal; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; line-height: normal; white-space: pre-wrap;">Spencer gaped at her for a long moment, unsure of what to think of this beautiful, crazy woman sitting next to him asking him out.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; line-height: normal; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; line-height: normal; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You needn’t look so shocked. It’s the twenty-first century. Women are doing all sorts of crazy things.” Rissa smirked at him.</span></blockquote>
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