My Soul is Cr ying K.N. Lee My soul is crying
A garden awaits
Weeping
One of calm
Wailing
And beauty
For my heart is ill
A low hum
Broken
And a swift breeze
Ailing
As a fragrant perfume Floats through the trees
The pillow is soaked
Falling
With salty tears
Floating
My heart is swollen
To my knees
With poison
I clasp hands in prayer
My cries echo
Beg for release
And fill my ears I fall back A lonely walk
Into a bed of red roses
May clear my head
The vines wrap themselves
Maybe I'll forget
Around my limbs
The empty house
The thorns sting
And empty bed
And cut my face Like knives
Butterflies swirl
I bleed
Like splotches of colored hope
And I smile
Fresh air fills my lungs
Sing sweet songs
I force my feet forward
In painful bliss
And desperately try to cope
Though bleeding and broken It doesn't compare to such pain As this...
Chocolate & Books
What a Pair ing!
K.N. Lee
George Martin
I love chocolate and I love books. Let's see if we can pair them like a nice steak dinner and a full bodied cabernet.
Stone of Tears by, Tetty Goodkind
This won't be difficult at all.
Pairings:
Another one of my absolute favorite books. I discovered this as a child and have been hooked on his excellent writings ever since. Stone of Tears is actually the second book in his Sword of Truth series, but it is the first that I found and read. So I'd say it was my introduction to his series...sounds like a Kit Kat bar. Ha! Kit Kat bars were my first taste of chocolate. Mmmmm, chocolate.
The Chronicles of Koa: Netherworld by. K.N. Lee Hey...no one said I couldn't do a little shameless self-promotion! Besides, Koa literally compares blood to chocolate when she's feasting on her hot American pet, Ian. Perfect. Don't you think? So with that said, I compare Netherworld with a yummy milk chocolate fondue. Because that's what blood tastes like...right?
The Witching Hour by, Anne Rice Here is one of the creepiest books I've ever read. Well, I was a child when I read it, and it might not be that creepy now. I may go back and read it again. Why? Because it's incredible. The title says it all. Witches, magic, characters that you fear for. What else could you ask for?
Mistborn: The Final Empire by, Brandon Sanderson Mistborn is one of my favorite books. So it goes well with one of my favorite sweets. Set in a world that is covered in mist and soot, you become attached to the incredible characters and their struggle to usurp a horrible tyrant and save the slave class from eternal strife. I pair Mistborn with dark chocolate, because it can be bitter at times, but so sweet in the end!
Oh! I know! A delicious chocolate froyo. That's frozen yogurt if you didn't know. It's cold and delicious. And The Witching Hour will leave your bones chilled and goosebumps all over your tender flesh.
Pride and Prejudice by, Jane Austen Mr. Darcy (in my mind) is one of the hottest British fictional characters...after Halston from The Chronicles of Koa of course. So, he gets paired with delicious hot
Chocolate Pair ings Emily Dickenson Complete Collection
There is something absolutely magical about Emily. I tell you, I look at her portrait and feel like I know her. How could I know her? Look inside the pages of this book and you will become familiar with my favorite poet. Her words are like spells that put a hex on your heart and incite incredible emotions.
I love her. I love her work.
Therefore I pair her with my favorite chocolate; yummy Dove chocolate.
More on K.N. Lee on www.knlee.com Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing.
The Unear thly Laura Thalassa
The first time I was declared dead, I lost my past. The second time, I lost my humanity. Now I?m being hunted, and if I die again, my soul is up for forfeit. After enrolling in Peel Academy, an elite supernatural boarding school on the British Isles, the last of the sirens, Gabrielle Fiori, only wants to fit in. Instead, the elixir meant to awaken her supernatural abilities kills her. Avail abl e on Amazon
Sassy Aphrodite and her Sweet Dir ty Mouth Calinda B.
Now available for pre-release, Sassy Aphrodit e and her Sweet , Dirt y Mout h, the follow-up to Bl urred Lines: t he Ent ire Col l ect ion, ?I cheated on my boyfriend. Am I sorry? Not one bit. Every moment I spent with the beautiful Navy seaman I call Adonis was worth it. Am I riddled with guilt? Without a doubt. I have to say, though, it was the kick in the pants I needed to change my life. But now I have to go home and face the fire, and it's going to be a hot one.?
Blood Tree: Par t One Scarlett Dawn
Where t here is dark, t here is l ight . The t wo hal ves make a whol e? Or do t hey const ant l y bat t l e f or dominance? Kenna Julius is your average teenage girl. She has a bossy mom, a new boyfriend in school, and she never dreams of enchanted lands or fairytale castles.
Wr ite Like a Wizard
Wr iting Challenge
Created by, Kenya Moore
Completed by, C.G. Ayling
The Chal l enge:
Af t er my init ial f right , bravado goaded me t o vent ure out side. Was I st il l a chil d ? t hat imaginat ion coul d t ransf orm simpl e l unar shadows int o monst ers? Was I a f ool , t hat I t hought a f ul l moon?s shadows coul d be anyt hing el se? How l it t l e I knew.
Your writing challenge is to write a short story, less than 2000 words about a large stone door that appeared in your backyard one night!
Resul t : A Doorway, of St one - by C.G.Ayl ing
I can?t recal l why I l ooked out t he kit chen window, just t hat I did. A singl e gl ance, or was it a wind?s whisper which cost me my mort al l if e? ? I real l y can?t recal l . That st ory began, or perhaps I shoul d say ended, wit h a puzzl ed f rown as t he f ul l moon?s bril l iant l ight drew my bored eye. Fast moving, irregul ar shapes f l it t ed across t he backyard, t he shadows of cl ouds driven bef ore a brisk, murmuring wind. A st art l ed, wide-eyed bl ink as my eyes wat ched a shadow?s shif t ing f orm sprint across t he l awn t oward me. I st epped backwards so f ast a spl ash of coke spil l ed f rom t he can I?d just popped open. Coke? t he memory?s name conjured a gush of sal iva. I digress. Yes, t hey?re coming back now ? memories l ong
Hours of sol it ude, hunched over a comput er, had l ef t me t hirst y, bl urry eyed, and cramped. I coul d use a wal k in t he f resh air ? not hing l ike st epping out doors in a gat ed communit y t o prove your bravery. Moon, do your damnedest ? I won?t be cowed by your conjured shadows! A breat h and a gul p of coke, f ol l owed by anot her gush of sal iva at coke?s remembered t ast e. Put t ing t he can down, I st epped out side t o l ook up at t he biggest moon I?d ever seen. It was enormous, wit h l ight so bright it seemed bl ue. As ant icipat ed hundreds of smal l , irregul arl y shaped cl ouds drif t ed t oward me across a st arl it sky. For a minut e I gazed upward, barel y breat hing as my jaded eyes t ook in a sight more spl endid t han any comput er graphic. As a part icul arl y dense shadow approached, I l owered my eyes t o t he empt y yard and wat ched it t ake l if e and charge t oward me. I smil ed, t hen f roze. In it s wake, a new shadow f ormed, even-sided and square ? yet t here was not hing t here! Frant ic eyes l eapt t o t he moon ? no cl ouds bet ween her and me. Rel uct ant eyes dropped, ant icipat ing anot her t rick of l unar l ight .
No such l uck. An even sided, obl ong shadow l ay hunkered on t he l awn. Simpl e words, f or a simpl e phenomenon ? somehow rendered f right ening by my subconscious. Shaking my head and bl inking my eyes did not hing ? it remained st at ionary, and so sol id t hat f or an inst ant I managed t o convince mysel f it must be a f reshl y dug hol e. During t he l ast condominium associat ion meet ing t here had been t al k of a new swimming pool ? but why woul d t hey pl ace it on my l awn, behind my unit , inst ead of in t he cent ral , shared communit y area? Face f l ushing in embarrassment at my overzeal ous imaginat ion, I mut t ered, ?Too many videos? jumping at shadows.? My words l eant me f al se courage. Wit h a snort of bravado, I st epped ont o t he l awn and st rode t oward t he shape. It became more menacing wit h my approach ? each st ep sl ower t han t he l ast , as my mind st ruggl ed t o expl ain t he inexpl icabl e. A f urt ive gl ance at t he moon reveal ed a sky now ominousl y cl ear of cl ouds. About t en paces away, unwil l ing l egs ref using t o carry me cl oser, I st opped. A mist ake ? t he rapid t hudding of my heart beat coul dn?t be dismissed as echoes of my f oot st eps on t he sof t l awn. Squint ing, I l eant f orward and peered int o t he shadow, ?It ?s got t o be a hol e f or t he new swimming pool ? idiot cont ract ors probabl y t hought t his was t he cent ral area.? A f irm nod l eant me convict ion I l acked. Murmuring, ?Get a grip? ? I t ook singl e st ep f orward and st opped ? once more unabl e t o move. I gl ared int o t he darkness, wondering how I coul d have been so st upid as t o not bring a f l ashl ight wit h me. As I cont empl at ed my f ool ishness, I not iced a minut e movement on t he ground ? al most impercept ibl y, t he darkness moved t oward me. It had t o be a shadow, but a shadow cast by what ? My eye t raced a st raight
l ine f rom t he moving edge up t o t he moon, which rode t hrough t he heavens wit h majest ic ease. A f ew hesit ant st eps carried me t o t he very edge of t he impenet rabl e bl ack. Wit h t he t oe of my l ef t shoe l ess t han an inch f rom it , I gl ared down ? pursed l ips and narrowed eyes daring it t o t ouch me. A f ew seconds gl iding mot ion, and it did. Though my f l esh crawl ed, I ref used t o jump back. I wat ched, and f el t t he darkness creep over my f oot . A col d, t angibl e t hing t hat served t o convince me I dreamt ? when were shadows t rul y f rigid? Grant ed comf ort ing courage by t his t hought , I st epped int o t he shade and heard t he crunching of f rozen grass beneat h my shoes. My l egs prot est ed as bit t er col d swept over t hem in perf ect synchronizat ion wit h t he shadow. It f el t l ike st epping int o a river in t he middl e of wint er ? unbearabl y col d, even in a dream. Shivering ? no, shaking f rom t he bit t er ice, I st epped backward out of t he darkness bef ore gl ancing down at my shoes, which I expect ed t o f ind coat ed wit h ice. As t he shadow?s col d cl asp rel eased me, warm bl ood f l ooded my f rozen f eet , t ingl ing as if surging int o l imbs numb f or l ong immobil it y. ?Weird dream? ? Det ermined t o make t he most of t he st rangeness, I t urned right , f ixed my eyes st raight ahead, and t ook six brisk st eps ? paral l el t o t he shadows perf ect edge. The l ast t wo st rides t ook me beyond t he darkness. Af t er t aking a deep breat h t hrough my nose, I t urned t o f ace t he shadow and gasped as my jaw dropped. Onl y a smal l port ion of t he darkness remained visibl e ? a sl iver seen past a massive wal l of st one, t owering high. Af t er bl inking t wice, and f inding t he wal l st il l t owering over me, I shook my head, t urned, and backt racked six paces ? t he precise number of st eps I had t aken me t o escape t he
shadow. This t ime I t urned sl owl y, eyes narrowing as I once again l ooked at not hing ? f rom t his side, t he shadow had no source. More t han t hat , t here was no indicat ion anyt hing st ood at t he darkness edge ? t he bright moonl ight l et me see l awn beyond it s boundary. No shimmer, no dist ort ion ? I?d have sworn on my grave t here was simpl y not hing t here. A poor choice of words? I ret raced my six paces, sl owl y, head t urned t o t he side t o cat ch f irst sign of t he t owering wal l . As I began t he f if t h pace, I f roze ? each eye considering t wo separat e and irreconcil abl e images. My right behel d t he sol id st one, cl imbing high. My l ef t ? empt iness, and l awn. I t it l ed my head l ef t . At some point , t he st ones f orming t he wal l simpl y vanished. No l ine, no edge, no dept h ? simpl y t here? t hen not . Sl owl y, I t il t ed my head t oward t he right . Where was not hingness, now was st one, perceived f irst wit h my right eye whil e my l ef t denied, t hen joint l y ? bot h eyes t ricked by t his il l usion. Reaching f ort h a hand, t o conf irm t he impossibil it y of sol id st one t hat was not , I hesit at ed? t hen drew my hand back and inst ead t ook t he t wo remaining st eps t o hal t in t he exact spot where t his st range dream had al ready cl imaxed. Head shaking in mut e denial , I t urned at l ast ? t o st are again at sol id st one. It seemed so real ? Beneat h t he moon?s bright l ight , I not ed t he perf ect f it of each st one t o t hose above, beneat h, and t o each side. Nowhere was mort ar, yet al so no gaps t o my narrowed gaze. Eyes scanning t he sol id seeming surf ace, I t ook several l ong paces t o reach t he midpoint of t he wal l . It was as wide as it st ood t al l ? perhaps wider. St il l t wo paces away, I st opped and t urned t o f ace it square. I gaped in mut e sil ence, heart beat ing f ast . Eyes f ul l y accust omed t o t he moon?s l ight , I st ared f or a l ong whil e, t he absol ut e st il l broken onl y by t he ragged, irregul ar t humping of my heart . My narrowed eyes not iced a huge doorway set int o t he wal l ?s middl e. How did I recognize it as a doorway? There was no handl e, and no hinge, neit her f rame, nor recess. Yet somehow, I knew ? wit hin t his wal l , st ood a door. The onl y purpose f or t he monst rous wal l was hol ding t his massive door. Reconcil ed t o t he dream, I reached out , ant icipat ing a bit t er bit e of col d. My f ingert ips barel y t ouched t he wal l bef ore I snat ched t hem back. The t ext ure f el t grit t y, as st one shoul d, but warm ? as t hough baked beneat h a hot , noonday sun. Sheepish, I reached out and pl aced t he pal m of my right hand f l at on t he part of t he wal l I knew t o be a doorway. It f el t sol id, ut t erl y immovabl e beneat h my hand. Exhal ing abrupt l y t hrough my nose, in sembl ance of a derisory snort , I pressed. Not hing happened. The doorway remained seal ed, immovabl e beneat h my puny, t ent at ive pressure, ?It ?s just a dream? ? I l eant int o t he st one, pl aced my l ef t pal m al ongside my right , set my f eet int o t he l awn, and heaved against wal l ? cert ain I coul d not possibl y move t he enormous door. A f ew seconds of ef f ort , and I rel axed, secure in t he knowl edge it woul d not budge. Goaded by f eel ings of dream-induced inadequacy, I shif t ed a pace t o t he l ef t and pressed again, t his t ime wit h onl y my l ef t hand upon t he door?s l ef t edge. The st one doorway swung open ? soundl ess and smoot h, on hinges unseen. Nat ural l y, t he inst ant I f el t movement beneat h my hand, I snat ched it away, ready t o f l ee bef ore t he night mare t aking shape.
Beyond t he doorway l ay onl y darkness, as deep as t he pit I had earl ier imagined. The st one door cont inued it s smoot h soundl ess passage, vanishing soundl essl y behind t he wal l . It disappeared bef ore I t hought t o not e it s t hickness. Wit h t hat quest ion f oremost in my mind, I l eaned f orward, t aking care not t o l ean int o t he gap l ef t by t he door?s absence. Here, t he st one had dept h ? cl oser t o t wo f eet t han one. Onl y in a dream coul d I hope t o move such a massive weight ? Reassured by t his t hought , I st epped int o t he doorway, reaching out a hand hesit ant in ant icipat ion of t he darkness?s bit ing col d. Discerning no discomf ort my f ingert ips pressed on, int o t he shade. Embol dened, I l et f irst my hand, t hen my f orearm sl ide f urt her in. Wit hout warning, a st eel y hand grabbed my wrist and jerked me bodil y f orward. Overbal anced, I st umbl ed, an unborn scream l eaping up my f ear-cl enched t hroat . The sight of my mirror image jerking me inside t he st one room st art l ed me int o sil ence. Even as I st aggered in, I st epped out , f ace grim. My voice came f rom t he ot her me, ?Et ernit y enough, f or me. Bet t er me, t han I? ? Mind numb wit h shock, compl et el y overbal anced by t he unrel ent ing wrench on my wrist , I l urched past mysel f in ungainl y ef f ort t o keep my f eel . The iron grip on my wrist rel eased, l et t ing me f al l f ace f orward ont o f irm packed sand. Behind me came a whoosh, f ol l owed by a dul l t hud as shadow envel oped me. Though t here was no need t o t urn and l ook, I coul dn?t st op mysel f ? t he bright moonl ight had vanished, l eaving onl y dim darkness in it s wake. Rol l ing ont o my back, I sat up, peered t oward where t he st one doorway st ood, pinched my arm, and murmured, ?Time t o wake up? ? From somewhere behind me a l ow moan raised my hackl es. In t he inst ant it t ook me t o l eap t o my f eet and t urn t oward t he sound,goose f l esh covered my ent ire body. This, was no dream.
<<<-0->>>
Author?s note. My thanks to K.N.Lee, for challenging me to experiment with something outside my norm. Would you like to see where this particular tale might lead? I hope you?ve enjoyed it, and are tempted to taste other of my work. Message me on Twitter @CGAyling, or visit my website http:/ / cgayling.com to find out more.
The Five War r iors Release Par ty Join The Book Nymph PR and author, Angela Ford for a night of stories, games, prizes, and fun! What if... your best friend started a rebellion in the middle of a war? Your lover awakened a deep evil and helped it grow? Your people were too cowardly to face a battle? You stole an ancient power source? You gambled with the fate of the world? ***Prize List*** Prize 1: $10 Starbucks Gift Card Prize 2: $15 Apple iTunes or iBook Gift Card Prize 3: ?The Five Warriors? Kindle version Grand Prize: ?The Five Warriors? autographed paperback + ?The Five Warriors? bookmarks
RSVP on Facebook!
Di n e "LOREM IPSUM DOLOR SIT AMET, CONSETETUR SADIPSCING ELITR, S TEMPOR INVIDUNT UT LABORM VOLUPTUA." -Bobby Flay
Quick Fire with Rober t Fr iedr ich Kenya Moore 1.What is your favorite movie? Well, I can tell you three of my favorite movies: 1982's The Thing, 1986's Aliens and 1997's Event Horizon. 2. If you could impersonate one person in all of history for one day, who would it be? Caligvla (Caligula) so I could experience Ancient Rome and all of it's ancient perks. 3. What are your hobbies? Walking in the forests or in the rain, shooting real guns and playing electric guitar. 4. What would your last meal be? It would be a large Pepperoni Pizza. 5. Name one thing you cannot live without! A computer with an internet connection.
A Chat wi t h t he Au t hor of Down cast "My target audience are the smart girls on Tumblr, Reddit, AO3, FanFiction.net and Wattpad. This is my manifesto/ love letter to them, to tell them that they are amazing, have magic inside themselves, and to j ust hang in there because you do grow up and can get out eventually." -Cait Reynolds
An I nter view with Cait Reynolds Kenya Cooper-Moore Where are you from? I was born and raised in Indianapolis, Indiana ? a nice Midwestern girl who fled to the East Coast first chance she got. LOL. I never quite fit in because I was so different from everyone else, with my father from India and my mother from Croatia. I ended up having a much more European upbringing at home, though when I see the cornfields and big sky of Indiana fields, my heart still skips a beat. When did you start writing? It?s not so much that I started writing. It?s that I have always been telling stories. Mom tells me that even as a toddler, I would string together stories about the birds and the chipmunks that lived in our yard. I would make her write down everything I said, and then I would ?illustrate.? Of course, by illustrate, I mean produce high concept abstract, post-modern art the way only a three year-old can.
Cait Reynolds Facebook: ht t ps:/ / f acebook.com/ cait reynol ds
I wrote my first poem when I was four, won my first writing contest at 11, got a personal letter of encouragement from Meredith Charpentier of William Morrow at 12, and basically never looked back. How did you come up with the title for Downcast? Actually, I didn?t! It was my friend Britt Behm who came up with it. Britt has been my crit partner, cheerleader, whip-wielder, and mind-reader for more than ten years now, and she knows my writing better than anyone else. She knows what I?m trying to say even when I don?t. I had some awful title like ?Underworld Queen? as a placeholder, and I was complaining to her about how I am horrible at coming up with titles. And, boom! She comes up with Downcast. So, naturally, when it was time to name the series, I went to her again, and yes, she came up with the name Olympus Falling. What is Downcast about? Well, there?s the official blurb, and then there?s the real heart of what Downcast is about. What you have is a story about the transformative power of love. It?s about how loving yourself can give you the strength to make yourself and others happy, to be open to love, and to change the world around you. You also have a story about what it?s really like to be unpopular in high school. It?s not always about the obvious insults and bullying. What really wears you down is the indifference, the sense of being invisible and worthless, and the thousand pointless, pointed little mean things that most of the time kids don?t even know they are doing to each other. Who is your target audience? My target audience are the smart girls on Tumblr, Reddit, AO3, FanFiction.net and Wattpad. This is my manifesto/ love letter to them, to tell them that they are amazing, have magic inside themselves, and to just hang in there because you do grow up and can get out eventually. I wish the Internet had existed when I was in junior high school and high school because I would have thrived on knowing there were other girls like me out there. What is the hardest part of writing a book? There are two parts for me that are the hardest. One is the slog from 40,000-70,000 words. The first 40k words are easy. The last 20k words to get to 90k is like a roller coaster ride, complete with slightly hysterical laughter and some screaming. But that 40-70k stretch is where I tend to lose steam, get confused, become filled with self-doubt, and think obsessively about napping. The other part that is hard is the first round of editing. God, I hate that phase. All the stuff that is wrong is just glaring, and I feel like face-palming myself every single paragraph. By the second/ final round of edits, I?ve reached a point of dull resignation. But the first round is killer. Who is your favorite author? Book? I don?t have a single favorite book or author, but I will read anything by Gillian Flynn, Tana French, Sarah Waters, and Elizabeth Kostova. I?ll also read anything by Junichiro Tanizaki and P.G. Wodehouse. What can I say? I like it eclectic. What was your road to publication like? For Downcast, it was absolutely torturous. I started writing it in October 2010, and it was published in May 2015. I went through four drafts even before submitting the first draft to Booktrope. Life kept getting in the way ? moving, jobs, deaths in the family, my own health issues. It wasn?t until I decided in January of 2013 to give myself one year to make a go of it as a full-time author to see if I could do it. And while it took two years to get Downcast published, it really has been worth it. Thankfully, things look to be a little more straightforward for the sequel, Thunderstruck, even if I am starting
on the second draft right now LOL! Do you have any advice for other up and coming authors? Definitely! 1.
Do not give up. Ever.
2. Do not get distracted by the shiny new thing. Stick with one story until you reach ?The End.? 3. Practice your writing by getting crit partners and feed back, and posting to sites like Wattpad and other fanfiction sites. 4. Read above your pay grade. Read the writers you want to be like. Consider it the only homework you ever really enjoyed. 5. Don?t edit yourself to death. That?s what editors are for. Do your best, then let it go.
Qui ck Fi re Round Coffee of tea? Coffee with creamer or espresso with two sugars. If you could live anywhere, where would that be? Italy Which actor would you choose to play the main character in Downcast? Oh, I?m horrible at this! I never can think of an actor or actress L Would you rather cook every night or go out to a restaurant? I would much rather cook! I love cooking and much prefer my own food? except when it comes to sushi. Then, I trust the sushi experts, LOL! Which superpower do you wish you had? I think I?d like to be indestructible and have healing powers like Wolverine. Then, I would go do even more crazy adrenline junkie stuff than I do now. Fear of injury is the only thing that holds me back.
6. Speaking of editors, you can?t get one until you submit for publication. What?s the worst that happens? One publisher says no? Fine. Try another. It?s nothing personal, and nothing to do with the quality of your writing. Just keep going. But, you?ll never publish unless you take the risk of sending your stuff out. Anything you want to say to your fans? Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you (kind of like that Natalie Merchant song). Just thank you so much for giving me a chance and liking my book! What?s next for Cait Reynolds? Well, we have two more books in the Olympus Falling series, then I have a three-book romantic comedy/ chick lit series planned, and after that, well, I get to take my pick of the 20 other book ideas that are patiently waiting on my to-do list. Connect with Cait on Twitter @caitreynolds
The Book Nymph PR Vir tual Mixer Join The Book Nymph PR for another fantastic virtual mixer! Authors and readers unite for a weekend of takeovers, contests, giveaways, and prizes that are nothing short of epic! Grab a comfy seat, put on something comfy, and prepare for a weekend of fun that you can participate in...all from your own home! RSVP on Facebook!
An Exclusive Excer pt from I ntimate Moments Jeane Sashi
Through the entire conversation Tony searched through his memory trying to remember where he had seen Tonju before she caught his eyes at The Lobster House. He was sure he had seen her somewhere before. It finally hit him and he remembered, he saw her at Reed, Randall, and Wade. He was at their office earlier in the week for a meeting before he came to San Diego. She was the Senior Paralegal giving a presentation in the conference room when he walked by. When he saw her, he thought to himself that she was very professional, very attractive along with sexy. Her cream colored skirt suit with the coffee brown blouse and the matching cream and brown shoes were a compliment to her small shapely frame, and not to mention she had a pair of shapely legs.
I ntimate Moments Available on Amazon
Her hair was pulled back into a bun and her makeup was natural and flawless. He also remembered passing her office with the unique name on the door. He wasn?t sure as how to pronounce it, until now. When he saw her at The Lobster House, he had a feeling he had seen her somewhere before but couldn?t remember then either. A smile formed from corner to corner on his face. ?This could be destiny,? he said to himself. ?Did you say something?? ?No, just thinking out loud. Would you care to dance??
The sounds of the music had slowed down and this might have been his opportunity to get the chance to hold Tonju in his arms. The song ?Cherish This Moment? by Kem was being played. ?Sure, that?ll be nice and I can quit swaying in this chair.? He took Tonju by the hand and led her to the dance floor. He was able to get a good up close look at her, especially in that dress. He was in full admiration. Taking her in his arms, he held her close to him. The aroma from her hair and skin made him close his eyes to take her all in. He had to ask, ?what?s that perfume you?re wearing?? he smelled the scents of Casaba Melon, Plum, and Freesia. ?Pure Seduction by Secrets of Victoria.? ?I love the scent. It smells great on you.? ?Thank you.? Tony wondered to himself? ?Will this be a well-kept secret tonight?? Holding her close and inhaling her aroma is taking his mind to other places. ?I can?t believe I?m this close to this man. He smells so charming I think he?s wearing a Lauren collection by Ralph. Sniff, sniff, he is, it?s ?Romance Silver.?It smells delightful on him. Goodness, I could stay like this forever.? She said in her mind. His arms hugged her waist
I ntimate Moments Continued... with her left arm around his neck; he was holding her right hand their bodies swayed to the music as if they were the only couple on the dance floor.
Tony?s hand went down her spine and felt the small of her back. He felt the curvature of her back and noticed how perfect she was to him. With him being as tall over her as he was, he could see over her shoulder and noticed her ample bottom. His hand touched where her lower back and ass came together. That must have been a soft spot for her. She squirmed a little and giggled.
?Gotcha? he said to himself and lowers his mouth to her ear kissing the top of her right earlobe sending chills down her spine once again.
Tonju then moved her right hand from his hand and placed it on his chest. She could feel his tight chest through his shirt. ?Nice? she said to herself. She moved her hand up and down the left side of his chest. They were still swaying to the music both had their eyes closed entranced in the moment. Their legs were between each other?s and their bodies began to grind more and more to the music, it felt as though their bodies had become one right on the dance floor. Tonju could feel Tony?s erection through his pants and he didn?t seem a bit embarrassed. She moved her body more and more on his erection which caused him to moan a bit. ?Hmm? she said to herself with a smile. They didn?t notice that the music had stopped until Tony was tapped on the shoulder by Robert. JeanĂŠ has been writing since she was in high school. Although she kept diaries, just as any teenage in high school, she didn?t realize her writing potential until she entered and won the Mayor?s Essay Award. She critiques and edits the writings of fellow authors. She herself is the author of two novels, ?Intimate Moments? and ?The J Spot?.
JeanĂŠ is also a Certified Motivational Life Coach & Speaker ; Certified Book Editor & Freelance Writer; and has a Chocolate Sweet Tooth
MARY MILLS-MACLAREN (nee Mills) was born in London and was just under 6yrs old at the outbreak of WWII. With her sister Pat, she was evacuated to South Wales and in a few years was able to speak the language as well as her classmates.Taken back to live in London when the war ended, she soon lost her Welsh lilt, and excelled in the English language. In 1963, she immigrated to Australia and began a correspondence course about creative writing in 1985.Her first published item that paid, was an article about a newly-built Senior Citizens Centre in Toukley, NSW From then on, her work was accepted by several Australian magazines:Woman?s Day, Women's Weekly, New Idea, Take Five, Weightwatcher?s Magazine, Prime Time etc. She also was a member of several writing groups and is still a strong advocate for the support and encouragement that can be gained from these meetings. One of the topics, Writing Competitions, saw
her enter and gain awards frequently. ?Writing Competitions are a discipline that teach the importance of handling deadlines, taking notice of the rules and requirements laid out and improving your work,? Mary says.?I never cease to be amazed at the number of writers who think it will be 'ok' to ignore the stipulated word count. I have judged many competitions over the years, and seen quality short stories and poems set aside for exceeding the word count.? Since those days, Creative Writing has become part of normal education, and it is most encouraging to see the number of writers that are coming to the fore. Naturally, this has given rise to stronger competitiveness and editors around the world are always on the lookout for an author with that J K Rowling?s 'special edge'. Nevertheless, an increasing number of people of all ages and backgrounds, have grown from the- 'how do you become a writer?' question to- 'hey! 'm a writer
and loving it!? Mary took on the role of writing teacher in the early 1990's, then founded one of Queensland's largest writing Centres, on the Gold Coast.Still going strongly, with hundreds of members over the last twenty-four years, well-known authors, and experienced tutors are just some of the top-quality lecturers and speakers that attend the Gold Coast Writers Assoc monthly meetings. In 2009, she returned to live Hampshire, England to be close to her family and spends her time writing or teaching the skill. She also has an online teaching course and delights in guiding new writers along the path to success. Indie publishing has broadened her experience and she is happy to discuss the topic with new writers.
Wr iting Challenge with, Asya Pekurovskaya Originially published on Writelikeawizard.com The Challenge: In 2500 words or less, create a fairy tale! The Resul t : Tess, The Daught er of t he Dwarves' King By, Asya Pekurovskaya There are days when everything crops up as stated by your wishes. The sun sends its gentle rays your way. The buds of cherry tree branches develop into flowers right before your eyes, and the critters tip off their knitted hats, greeting you with reverence. Tim hurried up. Yet on his way he had to shake the paw of Ben, the crocodile, bow Humphrey the cat and catch up with the mouse Bertha, who dropped a velvet purse with blue lapis lazulites.
Asya Pekurovskaya
In his pocket he carried a map of the area. In his backpack there was his favorite, ball- shaped donut filled with cherry jam. From time to time an idea popped up in his head that it would be marvelous to eat that donut right now. But apart from donut, he had nothing to eat. Yet he had a long way to go. You probably want to know where he was going. But, sad to say, he did not really know that himself. That is, he knew, of course, that he ought to find a colossal diamond, which was stored in the underground kingdom of the dwarves. But he had not the slightest idea of how to get there. He thought of the map, to be sure. However... although he had already learned to read and could read long book titles such as: "Get your spoonful of boon/ "With the fibs from Medoon," he had never had a chance to read a map. But things you have never done before, better not to start now, especially if they have an impact on your cherished journey. And Tim started to look for a passer-by who had had to deal with the map before. ?I should have asked the crocodile Ben. He lives on the lake and promenades in the cherry alley every day. If he did not know how to read a map, he would have already get lost. Tim went after the crocodile, mentally, needless to say, and assured himself the crocodile had already made it home and, after putting on his bathing suit, taken a dip freestyle to the other shore. But the time to think about Ben, the crocodile, run out very quickly. Right before Tim?s eyes a butterfly fluttered in a strange pirouette. The butterfly moved its proboscis, then turned it into a tube and started spinning it like a ballerina. Tim stared at the butterfly, forgetting everything, including his backpack in which a donut was waiting for him filled with cherry jam. And the butterfly seems to catch sight of him, as well. And here is what happened next. Apparently, very tired, the butterfly?ballerina perched on an open flower of the cherry tree and stretched her antennas which turned to be delicate arms, in Tim?s direction. When the butterfly?ballerina?s arms reached out to Tim, they gently took his both hands and lifted off the ground. And they flew, picking up speed. ?But I have absolutely no time for a flight. I am not promenading, I am escorting myself,? said Tim and looked displeased at his companion. ?Why did you decide that I was promenading?? the butterfly?ballerina replied.
?Yet our ways may not cross,? Tim said and immediately regretted it. After all, he wanted his ways to always cross with the ways of this beautiful butterfly?ballerina. ?Why do they not cross?? the butterfly corrected him. ?You're Tim, are not you? And if you guess my name, I will help you find the underground kingdom of the dwarves, and even show you the way to the magic diamond that ...? ?But how do you know about the magic diamond? This is my very private secret,? interrupted Tim. ?Akh, you do not think it straight and loose time,? the butterfly ballerina said in a melancholy voice. But instead of stopping to loose time, that is, instead of guessing the name of his companion, Tim started to carelessly compose a poem about her. And here is what he devised: To create a butterfly Someone modeled on the sly A dynamic flying shirt Trendy pants, TP, for short, Borrowed petals, light and awesome From the most entrancing blossom. And to demonstrate her gown, Baby circled twice her town: Paid a visit to her mates, Garbed both chic and up to date. Munched her breakfast at the daisies, Lunched with indolent and lazy Clovers. Then she turned her keel To bluebells for an evening meal. To complete her trying cruise Got prepared for a snooze: Funneled her fatigued proboscis, Mutely closed her wings, don?t ask us Why...
But then something happened, causing Tim to immediately regret his careless distraction. His companion had disappeared, and he flew down rapidly, like a stone. He certainly got hurt, but not as much so as not to see that he landed downright on a flower bed, caught between two amazing, utterly exotic plants ... ?What a pity the butterfly?ballerina will not see this beauty!? flashed through his mind. And when he got up to look more closely at the flowers, they seem to have bowed their heads towards him and kept gazing at him in response. Once again, Tim reminisced about the butterfly?ballerina. Only now did he realize that she looked at him the same way as these flowers, that is, not with her eyes, which he had not even noticed, but with her entire body. Only the entire body of this mysterious plant did not embrace its wings and proboscis like the body of butterfly?ballerina. All it had were leaves that were looking up, like pointed spears, and petals of pink and lilac color resembling those of a lily. As he glued his eyes to the remarkable plant, Tim noticed, in the very convergence of petals, yet another yellow flower, around which a fence of pistils grew which had all the hallmarks of a very dark lilac flower. ?I've never seen flowers with such colorful eyes. But what if these are not flowers at all, but enchanted dwarves?? Tim guessed. And as soon as he made this guess he noticed a brass plate, which denoted something in an unknown language. ?Who could conceive hanging a sign that can not be read?? Tim said out loud. But as he expressed his astonishment, he detected a miniature table, on top of which someone dumped .... No, to grasp that was beyond Tim?s fancy. But it was exactly so. The plausible dwarf seem to have forgotten his ... reading glasses, on the table. ?May I...?? Tim asked the dwarf, and, without waiting for an answer, reached for the glasses. The plausible owner of the magic glasses dropped no word in reply. ?I can see you don?t mind,? Tim said and rushed to put on the glasses. But as soon as he mounted them on his nose, everything transformed around him. The sky acquired a pale lilac color, yet the flowers grew blue and white and started to emit some captivating smells. It even occurred to Tom that flattering among the flowers was a silhouette of his beautiful butterfly?ballerina. And when he finally saw the brass plate, he couldn?t believe his eyes. The inscription read: ?Passiflora, the flower of suffering.? ?The flower of suffering,? Tim repeated like an echo, and the glasses flew from his nose.?Flowers can not cause suffering. And if there is an enchanted dwarf hiding in a flower, one needs to make sure he was no longer there.?
But as soon as Tim pieced together the future fate of the enchanted and the plausible dwarf, a fence began to grow around them. And something was very strange. The space inside the fence was arranged in such a way that the bed with the Passiflora flowers was stretching along the path and turning right, whereas next to the bed there appeared a new path that curved left and stretched all the way to the summit. ?If I do not follow the Passifora flowers I will avoid suffering, Tim thought. ?Then change your course to the left,? Tim heard the same voice. He looked around. Not a soul was seen on all sides. ?How will I climb this huge mountain? Besides, the kingdom of the dwarves is in the dungeon,? Tim replied. ?So, you have already made your choice,? the voice continued calmly. ?I made no choice. I am at a crossroads. Do not you see? An alarming silence fell over them. ?Someone is trying me. It could be the glasses that returned from their exile. They must be magical,? Tim thought. ?Akh, you do not think it straight and loose time,? the voice warned him. ?Somewhere I have heard this warning,? Tim thought. But it was too late. He fell down again, and when he landed, he immediately recognized the area. It was impossible not to recognize it. After all, Tim saw himself walking down the road that led from his own home. He was in a rush. Yet he had to shake the paw of Ben, the crocodile, bow Humphrey the cat and catch the mouse Bertha, who dropped a velvet purse with blue lapis lazulites. And when he fumbled the area map in his pocket and assured himself that his favorite, ball?shaped donut filled with cherry jam was still in his backpack, a very unhappy thought flashed in his mind. ?I will never get to the underground kingdom of the dwarves and get a magic diamond. Instead of going forward, I came right back. ?But you still have one more chance,? Tim heard the familiar voice. ?How wonderful it is that magic glasses have not left me,? Tim thought. ?If you prepare a new challenge for me, I will listen, I will waste no time and I will not miss anything. I even will agree to take the path to the left, although climbing a vertical trail is very difficult, almost imposs ... ?We?ll check it now,? the glasses interrupted Tim, ?Did you chat with the daughter of the Dwarves?King??
?I conversed with the butterfly?ballerina. Is she the daughter...?? ?You talked to her, not knowing her name, and did not even try to guess it,? the glasses hurried to continue, ignoring Tim?s question. ?It was not polite and also quite annoying. After all, from your figuring out her name depended your joint destiny. Now the princess is imprisoned in the tower, and you have lost access to the diamond, which is locked in her casket.? ?This is terrible! She needs help! Promptly! But how could I reveal her name? Names are plentiful, and they are all different ... Her name is Tess!? Tim blurted. If he was told a moment ago that he could effortlessly guess the name of the unknown princess, he would have never believed it. ?But who said I really had guessed her name?? flashed through Tim?s head. ?Well, you guessed it right. Now, there is very little you have to do. You will have to liberate the princess and find the key to her casket. Remember: the key is placed on the wrong side of one of the copper mirrors in the Kingdom of dwarves.
For More On Asya Pekurovskaya: http:/ / www.an-animation.com/
Motherhoodmagic.com
An I nter view with Asya Pekurovskaya Where are you f rom? I was born and raised in Saint Petersburg, Russia. What inspired you t o writ e your f irst book? My first book was a memoir titled When my Time Came to Chant with S.D. It was a story of my married life in a Russian bohemian gang of late sixties. My leading character was my husband, Sergey Dovlatov, a fib master and an author of considerable renown in Russia. I was inspired to write the memoir by his untimely death. Do you writ e f ul l -t ime or part -t ime? How do you bal ance your writ ing l if e wit h your f amil y/ work l if e? I write full time no less than 12 hours a day, and the only way I can balance my family life with writing is by parting with my husband for about half a year. We happen to live both in the US and Germany. What jobs have you hel d t hat inf l uence your st ories?
Asya Pekurovskaya
During the first decade of my American life I was getting my PhD at Stanford and teaching Literature and literary theories at Reed College. For the second decade I plunged into the world of
commerce. There I managed to secure myself financially, thus enabling myself to write obligation free. None of these experiences were admitted to my stories. Do you have a specif ic writ ing st yl e? Although I write both non?fiction and fiction (screen plays, poetry and children stories), I like to think I have a specific writing style. Two things support my belief. I tend to break away from a strict notion of genre and I write in two languages (English and Russian) thus transplanting the oddities of one mode of expression into the other and vice versa. How did you come up wit h t he t it l es? I do not find title pick is a matter of great significance. Books are rarely selected by titles. Most influential authors that come to mind failed to create enticing titles: Don Quixote by Cervantes, Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, Ulysses by James Joyce, The Great Gatsby by Scott Fitzgerald, Inspector General by Nikolaj Gogol, The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann. On the other hand, Catch 22, for example, seems to be a formidable title yet it kept its author (Joseph Heller) waiting forever before he enjoyed even a moderate success with readers. My title, Spark the Stone Man must be a mediocre one although I hope the books are not. Is t here a message in your books t hat you want readers t o grasp? The only message I would like my readers to grasp, is the one I created for myself: DON?T OPEN NEW WORLDS, OPEN YOUR EYES. How much of your books are real ist ic? My books are totally realistic in a sense that their characters (both fictional and non?fictional) mirror myself. It is me who is both real and non?real, both guileless and guileful. What books have most inf l uenced your l if e? There are so many magnificent authors that affected me one way or another that I am not sure I can give justice to them even in part. William Faulkner, Henri Miller, Andrey Bely, Lawrence Stern, Marcel Proust, Franz Kafka, D.H.Lawrence, Jonathan Frazer, Gary Shteyngart, Neil Gaiman, August Burroughs, are among the few I profoundly enjoyed reading. If you had t o choose, which writ er woul d you consider a ment or? Nikolaj Gogol (1809-1852). What book are you reading now? The Basic Problems of Phenomenology by Martin Heidegger and Three Tales of My Father?s Dragon by Ruth Stiles Gannett. Do you see writ ing as a career? Rather a lifestyle. If you had t o do it al l over again, woul d you change anyt hing in your l at est book? I perpetually rewrite my books. I do so even after I publish them. In a way, I feel I am more an editor than a content creator.
Do you recal l how your int erest in writ ing originat ed? That is an embarrassing recollection. As I was surrounded by writers, I once pushed myself into writing a story, too. Should I manage to finish it, it would have been a contrived piece of rubbish. Luckily I was unable to bring it to completion and discarded. And it took me twenty years before I could sit down to write something which I was compelled to write. Is t here anyt hing you f ind part icul arl y chal l enging in your writ ing? Two things: starting a story and finishing it. Do you have t o t ravel much concerning your book(s)? I do not leave my desk to create stories thus hoping to mimic the style of Marcel Proust. What was t he hardest part of writ ing your book? It is easier for me to create enticing scoundrels than enticing stars. Did you l earn anyt hing f rom writ ing your book and what was it ? I learned that negative comments, regardless of how irrelevant they seem to be, can be construed as view points worthy of consideration and positive comments, no matter how unobliging they seem to be, can always be construed as a critique and used for further improvement. Do you have any advice f or ot her writ ers? I feel there is no writing for fun, as writing is a condition which, once it grips you, will never release. Do you have anyt hing specif ic t hat you want t o say t o your readers? Please, don?t be lax about my writing. What were t he chal l enges (research, l it erary, psychol ogical , and l ogist ical ) in bringing it t o l if e? To get inside some characters?minds. What do you t hink about e-publ ishing versus t echnical publ ishing? I like e?publishing especially because technical publishing tends to create rigid rules that kill ingenious writing. Do you have an agent or publ isher? How did you go about f inding one? My books written in Russian were published effortlessly. For publishing my children?s books I created a publishing company, Pekasus, and engaged five people in the process. My several attempts to sell translation rights have failed. However, I have not really attempted to do so in a systematic fashion. When all six books are published in a hard cover and e-pub formats and equipped with musical scores and professionally narrated CDs, I will do the marketing full scale. If you coul d l ive anywhere, where woul d it be? Perhaps, Japan. If you coul d have any super power, what woul d it be? I want to be able to turn into animals and insects at my whim.
The Book Nym ph PR
Magazi n e
www.thebooknymphpr.com info@thebooknymph.com www.Facebook.com/thebooknymph www.Twitter.com/thebooknymph