Bri Clark's Blog, page 9

Uncool Mom or Future Empty Nester?

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When did I become this mom?  The one who doesn’t know what’s cool anymore, who misuses “cool” phrases, and turns to her kids for tech support. I remember being pregnant with my oldest and envisioning that we would just kind of “hang” together.  She seemed like she would be something between an accessory and a hobby…. kind of like knitting, but with greater potential later on.  Then…she was born and she was this whole other separate person who made decisions on her own timetable about things like sleeping (or not), eating (or not), and pooping/crying/puking (for these, “not” seemed never to be an option.)  It sunk in quickly that parenting was not at all like knitting, or hanging out with some cool mini-pal…if anything, it was more like trying to knit while running backwards on a treadmill while feeding a moody tiger with a sensitive palate.
Preschool years were probably my favorite, since these are the years that children like to do things beyond the basic bodily functions.  I must have made metric ton of edible play dough, between all four of my little ones.  That’s not counting the untold tons and tons of salt dough we made and baked off, for painting.  I know they ate plenty of that, too.  I pretended not to notice, as I knew it wouldn’t hurt them and that the saltiness would stop them before they could eat enough for it to be harmful.  I saw my twin boys eat enough of everything else, including all the ink out of a fresh box of markers, my prenatal vitamins (never could figure that, since I could barely stand to choke them down, and there they were at age two, happily gobbling down these huge things that felt like rocks and tasted like the worst medicine.  But the same kids wouldn’t eat anything except mac & cheese and hot dogs until they were 15.).  They ate a ladybug and a wasp between the two of them; the wasp was dead, ladybug alive…at least at the start.  Which is better than the other way round, for the wasp-eater’s sake.  They ate more crayons than I think they ever colored with and if you’ve ever heard the saying about having to eat a peck o’dirt before you die?  I do believe my boys were concerned about reaching an early grave, as they certainly ingested their respective peck each before their 3rd birthdays.  Happy to say, at age16, that they seem to have simply overshot their goal. [image error]
I probably suffered more on the first day of school than any mom, ever. Ever. I don’t care about the ones that stayed all day, or the ones that cried right there on the playground. I suffered like a patient in the ER suffers from internal injuries: just because you can’t see what’s happening on the outside doesn’t mean that the victim isn’t dying on the inside.  That is how I felt, and still feel, every year on the first day of school.  It is a checking off on life’s calendar of another milestone.  A moment I can’t get back with each of my children, yes, even in junior high or high school, now that they won’t let me take 1st day of school pictures anymore.  Even when they would just as rather that they were done and gone, I would be just as happy to start all over again with each of them and pose them against a tree that will grow along with them in their pictures, and make sure they have a good lunch packed, even though I know now that they threw them away, or at least traded the gross stuff like apples and fruit cups for Twinkies and bags of chips.  I would love imagining them in the cafeteria that somehow always smells slightly of rotting food, throwing parts of their lunch across the table to a kid who would take an apple for his chips.
This is a silly, crazy, unreal thing to write about.  Kids grow up.  It is a bell that can’t be unrung, and shouldn’t be.  But when you are the parent of 4 teenagers, you live with nothing but reality.  You live with sons who have gotten so comfortable kissing their girlfriends (what else, don’t want to know….had the talk…that’s all the reality I can suffer) that you see more tongue action in your front yard than in the movies you watch.  Yeesh.  Yeah, kids grow up I know, and want to move to cities like Chicago and talk not only about the school, but career opportunities there. And you have to start thinking about visiting Chicago for the holidays.  Brrrr.  And your kids start talking down to you, when you don’t understand something, or worse, forget something.  And they use That Voice.  The slow one that is super patient and understanding, for poor mom.  Yeesh.  I’m mid-40’s, not mid-80’s ya know. 
I don’t know what I’m doing.  I don’t want to grow old yet.  I am sure I will suffer “Empty Nest Syndrome” although I don’t know what it really is, or what one does about it.  It always sounded, well, like an old-person thing.  I guess I need to work on avoiding becoming both.  Not all people with grown kids are “Empty Nesters”…at least not in a bad way.  And age is a state of mind.  Heck, I could always make salt dough just for me to play with, and get out some of their other old art supplies.  I’m pretty sure I can keep myself from sucking on the markers while I draw, or nibbling on the dough.  But even if I do, I have living proof that it won’t kill me.



OK I have to tell you I haven't reached this point. I luckily have been able to offer my children tech support and when they went to school I threw a party and ate so much I threw up and napped in a puddle of vomit, soda, and finger nail polish. But I'm also the most uncommon mother ever to be known.
As always if you have been thoroughly entertained please feel free to use the little buttons below and share this blog post on your networks.


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Life Lesson #652: The Frienemom

Life Lesson #652: The Frienemom


Words that describe me would be sassy, dramatic, animated, boisterous. Words to describe my husband….all the opposite of above and loyal. My husband is loyal to the bone to me. 
Keep that in mind as you read this post.
We have a 17-year-old son. A junior who is dating a sophomore, a young girl we will call Ariel. She is smart, intelligent, and funny. I really like her. Not that he knows that. Her mother…not so much. Without going into detail let it be said that I don’t respect her mother. She presents herself as more of a friend to not just her daughter but my son as well.
On prom night, we were the transportation for the lovely couple. When we arrived to pick up Ariel son asked us to wait in the car. We did but only with the understanding when they came out, we would take a few pictures of them.
I mean I just paid out the wooha for a tux, dinner, tickets, and gas. I was getting som flipping photos!
Well after 10 min the frienemom comes out. (I remember visibly sighing when she appeared because of her state of dress.)
 I digress. Here’s how the conversation went.
“Hey, Jacob said he didn’t want to come out and take photos. Ariel and I can email you some of the ones we took in the house.” As she giggled blue takes a deep drag from her Misty 100.
“Well I told Jacob I wanted to take his picture before he came in. So you can tell him that he can either come out and have his picture made or he can come out and we can go home.” She looked at me and laughed and then stopped when she realized I was dead serious.
I mean like I want picture in a house when I can have photos under a flowering tree!They came out, we had some lovely photos made. It was a hit.
Fast forward 2 weeks later.
Apparently, frienemom doesn’t want to let Ariel come over anymore because I was rude to her. My son asked me if I was. And my response was. “Yeah! You know me and you shouldn’t have sent her out. Well if she doesn’t want to let her come over then that’s her choice.”
Later that day he wants to know if he can go over to Ariel’s. They are having a big family dinner. I say I don’t care.
Then my son, who should know better, calls his dad and wants to know the secret to making our prize family sweet gravy. They are having ham at Ariel’s. My husband looks at me then back at the phone with a wolfish grin and says, 
“Powdered Sugar.”
Here is punch line. Powdered sugar is absolutely not the ingredient and it’s an even worse substitute.
Cheers Frienemom.

Winner of the Kindle Guest Post Contest

 If you follow the blog then you know that for the month of April I invited anyone to guest post about anything. We had some great posts from  writing related advice to how to craft a grocery list. But in the end there could be only one winner. However, below I'd like to list the top five with their hits. 

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5. " 3 Ways to Gain Influence Online...that you haven't tried" by KC Neal had 118 hits. 


4. "Ordinary Housewife or Deadly Assassin"  by Alexa Martinez had 150 hits.


3. "Heaven and the Afterlife?" by Jo Kinchington had 165 hits.


2.  "How to Gain Blog Traffic from Writing Communities" by Nicole Pyles had 281 hits.

And the winner is...

1. "Did that really happen?" by Jennifer Comeaux had 340 hits!


Congrats to Jennifer. And thank you to each and every person who contributed. Now just for my own kind of little honorable mention section. There were two blogs for me that I really found useful. 


A. Secrets of an Acquisitions Editor
B. The Newsletter Formula


Finally, I want to add my own little take from this. If you look at the diversity of the blogs and then look at the winner I think you'll notice a little winning formula. 

First, my audience is targeted to authors, readers, and the publishing industry. So anything to entice them would have been a guest author's best way forward. 
Second, Sincere personal experience where you share something special that connects with people on a personal level was the other ingredient. 


Jennifer's post had both. 


Thank you again to all the posters and as always if you were enlighten, entertained or even offended feel free to share this post using those nifty share buttons below.



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Granny Pannies are not the bad guy

 Good Morning my fine readers. Today is Monday, the beginning of a new week, and almost the beginning of a new month. With that I've decided to begin anew with the blog. Once again I'll be going into a bit of a schedule. And to start off this new schedule I introduce the Caveat Queen. Well yeah she's a queen as if a diva would associate with anyone less. I digress. Her highness is a writer from my local writer's guild and a woman who essays I come to highly respect. However, unlike most royalty shes is a bit shy. Which is why I refer to her title. Below and hopefully for now on she will share with us her royal musings each Monday. But just to give her a little incentive I think that comments would really help her confidence and reveal or identity.
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I had a bad underwear experience today.  I know it seems a small thing, but at 6:00 this morning it was a pretty damn big deal.
These were supposed to be some really good underwear, according to the box. “Control top” the box said.  Well, good, I thought...I needed some control that is for sure.  Things are out of control around the underwear-wearing regions.  Control is good.  Sounds serious.  It’s time for me to think seriously about the underwear region for a change.  I have been far too lax for far too long about the whole area.
“Tummy tamer” it said, too.  Awesome!  My tummy is definitely not tame.  It is some wild jiggly thing that “crunches” are not taking care of at all.
And this brand had the added “Thigh Shapers” built in...now granted, these made the underwear look a bit like something my grandma might have worn, but I tell you, I was on a mission this morning.  No Mrs. Nice Guy about the cellulite and all that.  Today was gonna be my day to look smooth and shapely and these underwear were my ticket to the promised land of beauty.  Thigh Shapers, I tell you...squeezing bumps and bulges that I have tried to jog and “power walk” into submission for years.   Well, I think I know how they get toothpaste into the tube, now.  It isn’t for the squeamish.
So, after the jumping up and down and the pulling and tugging and the lifting and tucking to get all of me into these underwear, I was ready to admire myself.  I knew that I had to look as good as the woman in the picture on the box.  I mean, she looked damn good.  She was tall and lean and blonde and stretched out on this beautiful couch in the sunshine, with a smile...she was so happy!  I figured once I got these things on and they worked their magic, I would be ready to see the transformation.
Disappointment is really not a strong enough word.  Maybe horror is too strong, but maybe not.  I realize that it is not fair to expect that the weather (still cold and wintery, not warm and summery like on the box) would be improved by the underwear.  Maybe there was just a little part of me that was hoping...but I accept that it was an unrealistic expectation.  The fact that I was still short and brown-haired instead of tall and blonde?  Ok, I can understand that I would have had to do more than buy underwear to alter that...and maybe it is time, at age 38 to accept that I am...not...going...to...get...any...taller.  Ever.          But the vision that really devastated me, and for which I may have to seek legal action for the emotional trauma it caused, is the sight of my poor flab spilling out over the top, and escaping from the bottom, and, indeed, seeping over the sides of that freaking underwear.  It popped out in places that it had formerly occupied, but in greater quantities than it had previously.  So I still had a tummy, but it was flat in the middle and bulged out under my tits.  I had thighs, but they were flat at the top and sagged down over my knees, like drooping saddle bags.  My butt fat was bunched up and pooching up out of the back of the panties like I had a misplaced hunchback.
I looked at my short, bulging, brunette self, with the rain spattering against the windows of my bedroom, with the not-so-magical underwear, and I cried.  I was not gonna get taller, thinner, blonder, the underwear was not gonna fit, and the sun was not gonna shine today.  Not for me.  Not today.     
I know that is an awful story.  Sometimes we have bad underwear days and it rains and we feel crappy.  That was what happened to me.  Did I wear that damn underwear all day?  Well yes, I did.  It was $9.99!  Damn right I wore it.  It crept up my ass and pinched my waist and was so uncomfortable it made me a miserable bitch all day.  I hated it.  I wore it though.  I wasn’t gonna waste my $9.99.
I guess all I know is that I can live through a bad underwear day.  I have had a lot worse days. Yeah, and a lot of better ones, too.  Tomorrow will certainly be better.  I’ll wear my nice soft “granny panties” that I have had forever and that are 100% cotton and bag and sag in all the same places I do.  And that is one giant step toward having a good day.



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I am not gonna make myself feel bad ever again about being so short and dumpy and bumpy and brown haired.  That was my own damn fault.  Next time I buy panties, they better be the kind that come in “bulk” at the Wal Mart for three bucks a 4-pack.  They are less painful...all around.



Hoorah for you Caveat Queen! We will own a good days and curse those missrepresenting advertizing packages!

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How Jordan Davis Was Born

 
How Jordan Davis Was BornAlyssa Lyons
I’m often asked where I got the idea for Jordan Ashley Davis and the series. The truth is both humorous and bizarre.
While living in Pittsburgh, my mother, who lived with us, died and was cremated. I hauled her ashes from Pittsburgh to Bern, Switzerland, and then back to Virginia.
About four years after she died, my sister and I got together in San Francisco, where she lived. My mother had always wanted her ashes scattered in front of the Pacific Coast Stock Exchange. Unfortunately, during the decade since she’d been there, the trees no longer existed. So, one day at three in the morning, my sister and I dressed in black, put camo on our faces, and headed for the gardens in front of City Hall with Mom’s ashes and trowels in hand.
Unlike Jordan, we escaped without arrest.
When I told some fellow authors about this adventure and they were laughing until they cried, Jordan Davis was born. I was ordered to write it or they would. Not going to happen. It was my story and I was going to tell it my way. Thus the Jordan Davis Mysteries was born, which I call chick mysteries or, “Murder She Wrote” in High Heels.
So what is a chick mystery? It’s an amateur sleuth who is young, hip and always finding a mystery to solve. While occasionally there is some blood, it isn’t overdone and usually happens off scene. However, when necessary Jordan will do what is needed to save her family and friends.
I’m also frequently asked how much of myself is in Jordan. My sense of humor is Jordan’s and Gray’s. I love plays on words, puns, and puzzles. Also, I’m a Jew living in Lynchburg, Virginia and married to a Methodist just as Jordan is. Like both Jordan and Gray, cats and dogs have been a part of my life from childhood. Where Jordan becomes a private investigator, I’ve worked for the CIA and been a lawyer, like Gray. Jordan is named after my oldest granddaughter, Jordan Ashley, because her best traits found their way into her character.
I’d like to think I have Jordan’s fearlessness and joie de vivre, although I don’t ride a motorcycle and am really not fond oYou can read about Jordan’s adventures in solving crime “Southern Style” in Last Wishes, Clubbed to Death, & Stabbed & Slabbed .


You can reach me at my website and blog:  http://www.alyssalyons.com
My books are available at http://www.blackopalbooks.com and all major e-book retailers.
Wow Alyssa you have started your own mystery subgenre. These sound really fun and interesting. You were in the CIA! Tarnation you really should "right what you know". Thank you so much for coming and hanging out on the blog. Please feel free to leave comments and questions below. Alyssa is great about responding. 


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Attention Attention: Hey Y'a'll look over here! The Belle has an announcment

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Good morning Ya'll!!

Over the last month you have received some amazing guest blog posts. This was all part of my "Guest Post Win a Kindle" month long event. However, there were some hiccups. 

Such as my internet forcing me to institute a cursing jar because of it's unreliability. Or the fact that my email (Yahoo) must have heard about said cursing jar and wanted to build it's content. Or maybe just maybe Blogger who decided not to let me post or comment or share my own blog for say own and off a couple of weeks. 

But I digress. 
During this 30 days there was a lot of opposition. So in order to make it fair I'm extending the announcement of the winner of the Kindle (as in the guest post who got the most hits) until May 1st, 2012.
This gives me the opportunity to share these great posts and those posters as well. 
I also have another great announcement!! I will be having a regular guest poster whom I call the "Caveat Queen" starting in May. She is by far one of these most talented writers I have ever imagined. Her words and tone invoke you in a way I've seldom come across. And I got her on my blog. Woo Doggy!

So sit right back in that rocking chair hopefully on your front porch because the Belle is back and badder than ever. Like ya'll ever wondered I am the definition of wicked. 
 




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Christine Hughes and her Muse

My MuseEvery once in a while I hear a song that throws a scene into my head. It could be a song I've heard a million times before, it could be a song I'm hearing for the first time. Sometimes, I'll be in my car, sometimes I'm browsing through the iTunes store and sometimes I'm curled up on the couch watching something I've dvr'd. It doesn't matter where I am or what I'm doing or if I've heard the song a million times before, when that scene pops into my head, I need a pencil and paper immediately.There was one song in particular that carved out a path for TORN. I don't remember the date I first heard the song but I do remember exactly what I was doing - watching Vampire Diaries. It was the Founder's Day episode. (If you watch, then you remember. If you don't, you should.)  In this particular episode, Stefan went a little nutso and Damon had to step in and dance with Elena. The song they danced to was "All I Need" by Within Temptation. I'm not sure what it was about the song, maybe I was influenced my the scene in the show, but I knew my main character, Samantha, needed to feel the emotion I pictured when I heard that song.At the time, I had only a few pages completed. I looked up the song, found the video on YouTube and downloaded it from iTunes. Then I searched for a few more songs and eventually had a playlist of a hundred or so that I would shuffle when I wrote. Sometimes, I would add a few more songs, delete one or two that didn't match the vibe I was going for.But every time my fingers hit the keys on my mac, I needed to hear that playlist.Mind you, I am in no way musically inclined. I can't hold a note and can't play any more than chopsticks on a piano. But I can, like many others, feel the emotion in a song. Not every song and not every time, but music has become such a huge part of my writing, I can't imagine writing without it.If you have any favorite songs that inspire you, feel free to comment below. I love to hear about new music. Maybe I'll add it to my next playlist.~Christinehttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L6ViM8tKG1Q
 Christine Hughes
http://christine-hughes.com
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  TORN BLURB
When Samantha's father dies and she he was an angel because of what he was protecting,  she must join the fight between two groups of fallen angels, the Faithful and the Exiled, in a race to save humanity. In spite of the unforgivable betrayal of her best friend, the newly acknowledged love for her guardian angel, the face to face confrontation of the dark angel who killed her father and the growing need to allow darkness to take over her being, Samantha has been charged making the choice between fighting alongside the Faithful or succumbing to the darkness of the Exiled.



 A former Army brat, Christine Hughes moved quite often. She spent much of her time losing herself in books and creating stories about many of the people she'd met. Falling in love with literature was easy for her and she majored in English while attending college in New Jersey.

Not sure where her love of reading and writing fit, she became a middle school English teacher. After nine years of teaching others to appreciate literature, she decided to take the plunge and write her first novel. Now at home focusing on making writing her new career, she spends her time creating characters and plot points instead of grading papers.


Music has become an integral part of her writing process and without the proper play list, Hughes finds the words don't flow. At least a few times a week she can be found at the local Barnes & Noble with her Mac and headphones working on her next novel. Her YA novel Torn will be released by Black Opal Books in June 2012.

3 Interesting Facts:
1. I attended 13 different schools, including college, due to my family’s military relocations.2.     I met my husband when I was 14. 3.     My favorite book of all time is Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 


Wow Christine you are certainly a woman worth knowing! And that cover is fabulous! Can't wait to check out more. Thanks for being on the blog. 





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All I Needed to Know about Being Bad I Learned From Soap Operas…

All I Needed to Know about Being Bad I Learned From Soap Operas…by Jami Gray
My BFF and I were chatting over our Passion Tea Lemonades made by our favorite baristas the other day when our conversation turned towards the demise of the soap opera.  You know what I’m talking about. Whether you want to admit that you ever watched (or maybe still do!) those oldie but goodies with familiar names like “General Hospital”, “One Life to Live”, “As The World Turns”, and “All My Children”, they seem to be going the way of 8 track tapes.  Wait, is that too old? Okay, the way of the cassette tapes (better, right?).

We were lamenting on the fact that the current batch of bad guys just don’t seem to be up to snuff like their predecessors. Granted some of those Big Bad’s are still around, some names have changed, the hair has a little more gray or white to it, and there may be a few more ‘character lines’ on the face, but seriously, they’ve turned into a bunch of whinny brats.  No wonder the younger generation of evil has become so annoying if this is what they have to model on.
I haven’t watched soap operas since my late teens.  Back then, I was mesmerized by how much I really, really liked the bad guys. I mean, they were soooo good at being bad, never apologizing for their actions, they just reveled in their wicked way, proud and loving it!  Now, from what my BFF has shared, every villain has to have some “raison d’etre” behind why the dark side call so strongly to them.  Their childhood was a roller coaster ride of nightmares, the good girl/boy was held up to them as the prime example of what they were expected to be, waaaa  waaaa waaaa.
Really? What happened to men and woman who had no qualms about worming their way into families and communities, only to stand back and laugh manically while the whole town fell apart, all due to carefully laid evil plans they spent agonizing hours/days meticulously piecing together? There was no whining of past imagined wrongs, no politically correct excuses spouted about unfair expectations that twisted them into who they became, no heartfelt explanations with accompanied artful tears of how they really are a good person—deep down—but it’s everyone else’s fault they chose this twisted path of darkness.
Maybe it’s because my memory tends to get more selective each year, but I remember when the villains were bade because THEY LIKED IT!  They loved the drama, the arguments, the fights, the backstabbing, the betrayals and as each tear fell, their smiles grew bigger and their plots deliciously more twisted.  There were no excuses.  They were good at being bad and they loved getting up in the mornings (and night) and get to work on the next big thing.
So maybe that’s why I tend to favor the darker edge of writing.  I love Urban Fantasy, the twists and turns it allows both a writer and reader to take, it’s like a mental roller coaster ride that never ends.  One of the best lessons on plot that I have ever learned, stems from my years of soap opera fascination (thank you, mom!).  There are a lot of elements that go into a good story, but a strong, intriguing plot is a definite must have!  Plots, in soap operas, had so many twists and turns, it was a miracle if your head didn’t spin off your neck most times. Plus, just as you had it all figured out—BOOM—they switched it all up on you, and the roller coaster was back to stomach dropping speed.  Who was really your friend? Who was really jabbing that knife deep in your spine with a beatific smile?
Those writers were my idols, they were so good!  They seemed to be unhampered by society’s need to have an excuse or reason for every bad action. They were my introduction into the gray world that exists between black and white…or what you think is black and white.  They showed me how to think outside the box of character motivation, shake it like an etch-a-sketch, then follow along as my characters face their worlds—without apologies.

Hot Dang girl! Fabulous post and your books are on my TBR and may be on my Kindle in a whole second. Those covers and blurbs are fabulous! 


Blurb for Shadow’s Edge:Everyone fears what hunts in the shadows—especially the monsters…It takes a monster to hunt one, and for Raine McCord, forged in the maelstrom of magic and science, she’s the one for the job. In a world where the supernatural live in a shadowy existence with the mundane, a series of disappearances and deaths threatens the secrecy of her kind and indicates someone knows the monsters are alive and kicking.  Partnering up with the sexy and tantalizing Gavin Durand proves to be a challenge as dangerous as the prey she hunts.

When the trail points back to the foundation which warped Raine’s magic as a child, her torturous past raises its ugly head.  Gavin and Raine sift through a maze of lies, murder and betrayal to discover not only each other, but the emerging threat to them and the entire magical community.



Blurb for Shadow’s Soul:Some nightmares are born of love…Raine McCord has no problem taking down the monsters of the world, it’s one of the reasons she’s so good at her job.  So playing bodyguard to Cheveyo, head Magi of the Northwest, as he consults with the Southwest Kyn should be an easy assignment. Unfortunately, simple task turns into a nightmare when Cheveyo is kidnapped and Raine is left for dead by one of the Kyn’s most feared beings, a Soul Stealer.The Stealer’s attack leaves lasting wounds, undermining Raine’s confidence as a warrior and damaging her unruly magic. Her ability to heal her mind and spirit hinges on the one man who can touch her soul, Gavin Durand.  Compelled to face the emotions raging between them, they must embrace not only their stormy relationship but their evolving magic to escape the twisted threads of murder and betrayal to find Cheveyo. As Raine and Gavin come together and begin to unravel the complex web of secrets and hidden vendettas haunting the Southwest Kyn, they discover unsettling new truths that threaten their very existence.




Bio:Growing up on the Arizona-Mexico border, Jami Gray was adopted at the age of 14 and suddenly became the fifth eldest of 37 children. She graduated from Arizona State University with a Bachelor’s in Journalism and three minors-History, English, and Theater.  Shortly after marrying her techie-geek hubby (who moonlighted as her best friend in high school) she completed a Masters in Organizational Management from University of Phoenix Oregon.
Now, years later, she’s back in the Southwest where  she’s outnumbered in her own home by two Star Wars obsessed boys, one Star Warsobsessed husband, and an overly-friendly, 105-pound male lab.  Writing is what saves her sanity.


Shadow’s Edge: Book 1 of the Kyn Kronicles is out now and Shadow’s Soul: Book 2 of the Kyn Kronicles hits shelves Summer 2012.
You can find me at:
Buy Link:    www.BlackOpalBooks.com  Website:     www.JamiGray.comBlogs:          www.7EvilDwarves.wordpress.com  or www.JamiGray.wordpress.com Facebook:  http://www.facebook.com/jamigray.authorTwitter:       http://twitter.com/#!/JamiGrayAuthor 



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Award-winning author Bev Irwin showcases Ghostly Justice

Fifteen-year-old Daria Brennan doesn’t want to hear people’s thoughts. She doesn’t           want to see ghosts or talk to dead people. And she definitely doesn’t want to help Amanda solve her forty-year old murder. But Amanda wants revenge, and Daria is the first human contact she’s had since the day she died. Now the killer is after Daria and her friends. Can they solve this Amanda’s murder in time, or will they become the next victims?

Read Reviews and excerpts.  Buy links below.

BOB: http://bookstore.blackopalbooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=29&products_id=30Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1109472393Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Ghostly-Justice-ebook/dp/B007TBYW9S/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1334595188&sr=1-1ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-ghostlyjustice-772928-143.htmlSmashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/149454

 Award-winning author Bev Irwin lives in London, Ontario, with three assorted cats, one that hid in her car when she moved from a farm and two others dropped off by her daughter five on two different occasions. Her three children have flown the coup. But her granddaughter, Jasmine, is a frequent visitor. As a registered nurse, she likes to add a touch of medical to her romance and mystery novels. She writes YA, children's, and poetry. She prefers spending time in her garden, writing, and reading to being in the kitchen. Her debut novel, WHEN HEARTS COLLIDE, a contemporary romance came out in December of 2011 with Soul Mate Publishing under the pen name of Kendra James. Irwin's YA paranormal novel GHOSTLY JUSTICE will be released by Black Opal Books on April 14th, 2012. MISSING CLAYTON, a suspense novel, with be also published with Black Opal Books later this year.


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Sense or Sensation: Revisiting Stories That First Stole Your Heart

Today on the blog I'm just thrilled to introduce Jami Jean Welebob. She describes herself as a " a writer of historical horror and irredeemably bloody romance." She is a hoot and I'm happy to more info on her below. 
Sense or Sensation: Revisiting Stories That First Stole Your Heart
Let it be known that I, the professional charlatan, am very much in touch with my inner child.  Not only does this serve me well in earning my daily bread, but being able to connect with those first feelings of pure delight continues to inspire and enhance my passion for storytelling.  Yet, as are all of us who are doomed to roam this earth, I have grown up.  My tastes have grown more sophisticated.  I appreciate, and in many ways prefer, the various shades of grey in which I see the world now as opposed to the rigid black and white of my youth.  Thus, my fiction has matured in this manner.  Recently, however, one of my first loves has returned.  The Phantom of the Opera, the musical, celebrated its 25thanniversary with spectacular fanfare and a lavish restaging.  Needless to say, I was intrigued.  Phantomintroduced me to my first love triangle and the idea that romance isn’t always a beautiful thing.  It had been so long since I had given any serious thought to the story or score.  Suddenly the mere suggestion (aka flashy advertisement) incited a burning desire to visit my first love once again. Phantomwas every bit as beautiful a production as I remembered.  The updated effects were well placed, such as the addition of screens instead of relying on small mirrors and improved pyrotechnics.  The soaring music made my spine tingle, and I was a 13-year-old girl all over again by the end of Christine’s operatic debut, “Think of Me.”  Enraptured, I watched the Phantom lead her down into the bowels of the opera house.  I sat alongside them in the gondola gliding across the misty lake.  I could almost feel the Phantom tentatively caressing me as he held Christine close during “Music of the Night.”  And I could feel the excitement as Christine reached out and lifted his mask.  Then my childhood idols came crashing down.  The Phantom confronts Christine singing, “Fear can turn to love.  You’ll learn to see to find the man behind the monster. . .”  I realized that the Phantom was a stalker!  As the musical progressed, none of the characters behaved with the nuances I remembered.  Christine, instead of being torn between mysterious excitement and the comforts of a traditional love affair, appeared kind of ditzy.  What the hell was she really feeling?  There was no indication of conflict.  She seemed truly afraid of the Phantom most of the time and rather ambivalent about Raoul outside of his ability to protect her.  This did not create dramatic tension, for the choice was far too obvious.  No one would choose fear.  This was not the complex situation of fraught tragic figures I remembered.  So what does all of this mean beyond confirming that I am indeed growing old?  Overall, I still enjoyed the musical as much as ever.  It was an opportunity to figure out what the real hooks were for me in this classic love story.  As it turns out, sensation wins out over sense in this case.  If you can craft a beautiful enough façade, your audience will overlook a million weaknesses in your characters and plot and if they are like me, return again and again for more.  Of course fog machines, fireworks, and a full orchestra helped The Phantom of the Opera; while all storytellers have to work with is words.  Writing is a solitary task.  Enjoy, as I do, wielding ultimate power over the worlds you create without having to worry over a budget, collaborate with composers, or placate prissy prima donnas.  Just remember that it is up to you alone to command the love of your readers.  If you’d like to hear more about my adventures, the true, the untrue, and the many in-betweens, please visit my blog, The Professional Charlatan, or friend me, Jamie Jean Welebob Craven, on Facebook or follow me via LinkedIn.  



A former Army brat, Christine Hughes moved quite often. She spent much of her time losing herself in books and creating stories about many of the people she'd met. Falling in love with literature was easy for her and she majored in English while attending college in New Jersey.Not sure where her love of reading and writing fit, she became a middle school English teacher. After nine years of teaching others to appreciate literature, she decided to take the plunge and write her first novel. Now at home focusing on making writing her new career, she spends her time creating characters and plot points instead of grading papers.Music has become an integral part of her writing process and without the proper play list, Hughes finds the words don't flow. At least a few times a week she can be found at the local Barnes & Noble with her Mac and headphones working on her next novel. Her YA novel Torn will be released by Black Opal Books in June 2012.

3 Interesting Facts:1. I attended 13 different schools, including college, due to my family’s military relocations.2.     I met my husband when I was 14.3.     My favorite book of all time is Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451.

TORN BLURBWhen Samantha's father dies and she he was an angel because of what he was protecting,  she must join the fight between two groups of fallen angels, the Faithful and the Exiled, in a race to save humanity. In spite of the unforgivable betrayal of her best friend, the newly acknowledged love for her guardian angel, the face to face confrontation of the dark angel who killed her father and the growing need to allow darkness to take over her being, Samantha has been charged making the choice between fighting alongside the Faithful or succumbing to the darkness of the Exiled.


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