Calle J. Brookes's Blog: Read More from Calle J. Brookes, page 8

Sneak Peek at Aureliana's Story: A Warrior's Quest

OOooohhhh, I am so excited! Auri's book will be out on the 31st, (and hopefully available as a pre-order at certain retailers before then!) This book is a very special one, kicking off a 10 book storyline that is a bit bigger than I expected. Hopefully you'll enjoy reading it as much as I think I'm going to enjoy writing it!
I thought I'd share a quick preview of the first chapter!


Chapter One

She was going to die. The question was just when. No one heard the Beansidhe’s cries and lived. No one. Why should she be the exception?

She’d escaped once, by entering the demon realm. But that had only bought her time; and time was something she’d had an eternity of. She’d reached her 415th birthday two months prior, and she doubted she’d see 416. Her time was bound to run out sometime or another. Even in the realm of the deities—Levia—war loomed. They needed warriors to protect those who couldn’t fight for themselves. And war equaled death for so many. Would that be the way she went? That was something she could respect. A warrior’s death. She was an Adrastos, was she not? Her people had been warriors since the dawn of their family. She was no different. Her room at Levia was beautiful and on the floor reserved for only the families of the god and goddess’s chosen ones. Rand and Jierra were safely settled into their suite down the hall from her, probably cuddling their twin infants and laughing and loving together. Together.That was her biggest sorrow. Her Rajni, her mate.What was he doing now? Did he even realize how she longed for him, or what she had given up because of her death sentence? Did he even know that they had been destined to be together?She’d never heard of a demon and Dardaptoan pairing. No one had, not even the goddess responsible for pairing her with the big demon bastard in the first place. It had just happened, and the goddess Kennera couldn’t—or wouldn’t—explain what had led her to whisper Aureliana’s and the big demon’s names together four hundred plus years ago. Had She ever paired a mere woman up with what amounted to a deity from another realm?Something else Kennera had refused to reveal. And Aureliana wasn’t about to push against the very creator of her people. People could end up dead from that.Her suite was too small, the four walls of the beautiful space closing in on her. She wanted to run, to return to her home realm. Gaia was beautiful. Colorado was beautiful. The family wing where she had lived for so many years in the Dardanos, Co. hotel was beautiful.And she’d never see it again. That was another great sorrow. All of the people she had left behind to come here—her brother, his Rajni, their future children, young Briken, barely eleven. People—her people—lost to her forever.Would the grief ever not be so raw?She cursed the Beansidhe that had attached itself to her, and not for the first time. Or hundredth time. The Beansidhe had robbed her; that was something she would not deny. It had robbed her of time with her Rajni, robbed her of her home land. Robbed her of her friends, her family, even of spending time with her Rajni’s young daughter.The ache of empty arms hurt her more than she would dare tell anyone. She finished dressing, then grabbed the sword she’d been gifted with centuries ago. Her uncle Rodulus had died without children, having never found his Rajni. He had passed his legendary sword, a smaller broadsword inlayed with citrine, amethyst, and gold on to her. It had been in her family for more than three thousand years, and had never been owned by a female. Until her. Rodulus had told her that she had a great destiny, despite her gender. And the sword had felt right when she held it.She’d defended herself and those she cared about with the blade, and knew she would probably die with it in her hand.She’d been in Levia for one month, and was comfortable with the palace. Not so much with the wooded world surrounding it. She knew nothing of what was out there. What type of threat she could—would—face outside the gates. Not that she had much call to go outside the gates.Here, in the castle, she was often sequestered, protected—smothered, if she wanted to be honest—by the males of this world. Especially the wolf god Eiophon. He was obsessive about keeping his female—the goddess Kennera—protected from all who would threaten her. And Aureliana understood that. The goddess had delivered two of the four newbirths, divine creatures capable of both unbalancing the realms and of putting every world in total harmony. Quite a big calling for two small babes. And these are the children that Jierra’s infants would grow up with as playmates. It was because of Jierra that Aureliana was in Levia in the first place. She had helped raise the little babe into the woman she was. And Jierra’s mother couldn’t be with her daughter now. As Kindara’s best friend, Aureliana had stepped in to the void. Like she always would. Kindara was in the demon world with her lover, Rathan. King of the Demons.And brother of Aureliana’s Rajni. Damn Renakletos, and damn herself. Damn them both.
She missed him. And that was her worst sorrow of all.
If you've missed any of Aureliana's appearances, she plays a major role in both Awakening the Demon's Queen & The Wolf's Redemption. She also makes a few appearances in her brother's book, The Warrior's Woman. All of these are available at major ebook retailers. 

Extended HUNTING Excerpt!

HUNTING: A PAVAD FBI Romantic Suspense
Extended Preview

Chapter 1
****
HUNTING Book 5 in the PAVAD series,
 will be available on
June 30, 2013. Jules just wanted to get away. Just stand up, get out of her chair, and walk out of the St. Louis bullpen and disappear for a while. A week, a month, maybe even a year. Maybe forever. Only the knowledge that she didn’t have anywhere else to go kept her butt glued to the ergonomic chair she’d pushed up to the edge of her borrowed desk. 
Being alone sucked. Working for the FBI sucked. Cutting up dead bodies sucked. Dr. Malachi Brockman and his all-knowing blue eyes sucked. It all sucked.
And Jules could do nothing about it. And that's what sucked the most.
She couldn’t leave St. Louis; her only family lived there, and in the last several months she’d come to the realization that even she couldn’t cut herself off from family completely. She could honestly say she’d had that truth knocked into her head months earlier. And the fist had packed quite a wallop.
She’d almost lost everything she had left that day, and since that moment when Agent Stephenson had attacked her and kidnapped her sister-in-law while Jules’ four-year-old nephew watched, Jules had made a vow to make sure that Georgia and Matthew knew she loved them. They were all she had left, the only remnant of any type of family Jules could ever claim. Would ever claim. She couldn’t lose them, and it had taken Agent Stephenson going rogue and trying to kill Georgia for Jules to realize she was pushing her friend away. Jules couldn’t do that anymore. 
So if that meant putting up with the know-it-all Malachi, Jules would do it. 
It was his own fault she disliked him. She knew she was justified in her opinion. He had no right butting in, sticking his patrician nose into her business. And then making excuses for himself. “I'm just worried for you, Julia. It can't be easy dealing with the type of victims you see daily, on top of your own tragedy. Hah! No shit, Sherlock.”
Her tragedy—what did he truly know of tragedy? Sure, he saw things in the job, but from all accounts, the great Dr. Brockman had had an idyllic life. Grew up the oldest of three perfect children, both his perfect parents still living, scholarships to all the right, perfect schools. Perfect. Not to mention that he was good-looking and had tons of money. 
Damned psychologist had everything practically handed to him, and then he had the nerve to tell her she was acting spoiled. Self-centered. Self-absorbed.
Just who the heck did he think he was? They'd not spoken to one another for personal reasons in the entire time she'd worked in St. Louis, then all of the sudden she'd looked up from the autopsy reports she'd been studying to see Brockman staring down at her. Coming to her desk and telling her she should basically just 'get over' her husband Rick's death and move on—before she dragged those who cared about her down as well!
She shot a glare toward the half-rise where his office was located next to Agent Reynolds'. She could just make out the dark head of her new nemesis as he sat speaking with Agent Hellbrook. She wished someone would punch him in the nose, do something to ruin all that perfection. Even if just temporarily. 
God, how she wished she had the balls to do it herself. She tightened her fists as she imagined it. Only the Hippocratic Oath she'd sworn years ago kept her from doing that and so much more to the arrogant jerk.
As if he could read her mind—and she wouldn't put it past him, with his three PhD's in mind reading and fortune telling and smarm—he looked up and smiled the smile that he probably thought would get him out of anything. 
Julia snarled. Not with her it wouldn't.
* * *
Malachi Brockman fought the urge to laugh in satisfaction as his eyes caught those of the lone team member still seated in the bullpen his team shared with Hellbrook's. 
The woman did the damnedest job of hiding how she felt but occasionally her true feelings would slip through that mask. Malachi was determined to remove that mask completely. If she didn't kill him first. He knew—had heard from her closest friend—that she had one hell of a temper when it was aroused. And he knew that was probably exactly what she needed. Fury, anger, rancor—anything other than the numbing grief she'd let grip her for the last three years. Nobody deserved to be that sad for that long. It wasn't healthy. It would eventually eat a person alive. He couldn't let that happen to her. 
If that meant she hated him for the rest of their days, so be it. People had to be in top mental condition to handle the job they did, and Dr. Bellows wasn't in it. She would be—or Malachi would see to it that she was removed from her position with the St. Louis PAVAD unit. Until she became more aware of things around her, he wasn't comfortable sending her out in the field. Period. It was too dangerous.
But then again—Hellbrook felt she was more than capable of the job. Malachi completely disagreed. He'd seen much stronger agents break under far less provocation. 
“That's one angry woman down there.” Hellbrook made the observation mildly. Malachi smirked. “What did you do to her?”
“What makes you think I did anything to her?” Malachi asked. He didn't miss the way her expression darkened. 
“Because the normally calm-natured doctor is shooting poison glares straight over my shoulder, directly at you.” Hellbrook laughed again. 
“I did nothing to her to warrant what she did to me.” 
“Which was?”
“Threw a stapler at my head. And the woman has almost excellent aim.” Malachi rubbed his shoulder. 
“Sounds eerily reminiscent of my morning, as well,” Hellbrook said.
“Oh? Bellows throw a stapler at you, too?”
“No. Georgia did. And it was the television remote. And apparently her aim is better than Jules's.”
“I ducked. How is George?”
“Cranky. That woman hates to be sick.” Worry touched the other man's eyes for a moment. “Julia's been over at the house at least once a day. I don't know who is more concerned—Jules, Georgia, or me.”
“At least George has her own personal physician.” Malachi watched as she gathered her bag and then stomped out. Her actual office was down near the morgue, but she spent many hours in the bullpen.
“I am eternally grateful for Jules. She's been a godsend since this flu’s been making the rounds. I think Georgia would have killed me if not for Jules.”
“So there is some benefit to the woman.”
Hellbrook's brow rose. “Seriously? What is going on with you two?”
“Nothing of importance.” Malachi stood, and Hellbrook followed suit. “But I do believe we shall agree to disagree on the subject of the good doctor.”
“Sounds eerily familiar, as well. I remember feeling a serious bit of rancor toward a woman with good doctor in her title.”
“Yes, but in this instance there won't be the same resolution. I have no intention of doing that with Dr. Julia Bellows.” Malachi shuddered at the thought. Whoever did marry that woman would have to wear body armor. Two inches higher and to the left and she'd have broken his nose with that stapler. “Any part of it.”
So much for do no harm. If he hadn't ducked right when he had...Malachi abhorred violence. There were so many other ways of dealing with conflict. The woman could have killed him. He made a mental note to avoid being alone with her until she'd had time to cool down.
In the meantime, he had a party to host.





Chapter Two
* * *
To paraphrase, a man in search of a political career was in desperate need of a wife. And children. Once he had those—or the start of those children—he could begin his actual political campaign.
That meant he had to finish up with Malachi and begin on the next stage of his plan, a do so rather quickly if he was to meet his first goal. He’d surveyed the women of his acquaintance, knowing that he had rather little time to go out searching for a suitable companion for his aspirations. Not with everything else he needed to accomplish. He’d never been a very patient man. Why should he be? He shouldn’t have to wait for anything. He was not a man who waited. Period. 
Unfortunately, most of the women he knew he had found quite lacking for what he would need of them. His future wife would need to be beautiful—or at least presentable, intelligent, articulate, well-liked, well-groomed, and well-educated. She would have to follow his instructions to the letter, but also be able to make decisions for herself without him present at her side. She would have to understand that children were to be kept clean, neat, and image-ready. No grubby urchins would be allowed. And no more than two, though he would be far more satisfied with just one. 
He had narrowed his list down to a handful of candidates, and had made his selection. While she was far from what he was looking for, with a bit of molding, she could eventually fit his needs.
And she now walked at his side, providing the perfect alibi for the events that would happen later. Events he had set into place. After all, how more perfect could his alibi be, than him escorting an FBI agent?
“Be careful of the snow, my dear.”
“I’m ok. Really. Thanks for the ride.” She had her bag slung over her shoulder and he wondered at it, but didn’t ask. After she was his to do with as he pleased, she would not be jetting around the country with that team of hers. No, she would be a stay at home wife and hostess, set into place to ensure he had his needs met fully while on the campaign trail. His career was the one that mattered, after all. But he would never tell her that, not yet. “I’m going to camp out at Al’s for a while.”
“And what is wrong with your place?” He had to admit, he did not like the idea of her being in Malachi’s home when the next piece was played. 
“Smoke damage.” She laughed, and he smiled. The sound was very pleasing to the ears. It was one of her better features, besides her porcelain skin and rich dark eyes. The hair was horrible, but he would address that later. “Dan’s boy, he’s almost twelve, blew up the basement trying to do his science homework.”
And she lived in Dan’s basement, renting an apartment from her older colleague. “What was he doing down there? Doesn’t he stay upstairs?”
“Oh, I was helping him.” She grinned. “His mother wasn’t too happy, but we had fun doing it.”
“And did he learn the lesson?”
“I think so. The main thing we learned was that neither of us should be playing with that kind of stuff. At least not without an actual tech present. It’ll take a few weeks to change the drywall in my place. There was also the tiny problem of the upstairs bathroom.”
“What was that?”
“Ryan’s little sister left the sink running in the bathroom right over my bedroom. Saturated the drywall that wasn’t smoke damaged.”
What horrific children. If they were his, they would have long been beaten. He just barely held back a shudder. “I see.” 
“I don’t think you do. The water kept the drywall from catching fire, at least. Everything worked out for a reason.”
“I see.”
He guided her up the steps into the house that Malachi shared with his younger sister Alessandra. He’d considered Alessandra, but although she was truly beautiful, he’d found her personality severely lacking for his needs. That woman would never bend to proper authority, and she would give a husband more trouble than she would help. No. He’d needed a more malleable woman, so he’d easily crossed Alessandra from the list, despite her connection to the Brockman family. Once again his attention had landed on Alessandra’s partner, Paige. 
The house was too large for just Malachi and his sister, but he knew it was in perfect repair. Everything Malachi possessed was of high quality. And always had been. Malachi Brockman had never wanted for anything. But he would soon take all that away from Malachi, and he’d watch the man’s perfection wither away. He was so looking forward to it.
Malachi was his biggest obstacle to his career ambition of politics. Malachi may never have said it, but he knew it was always there. He could not be the best at anything until Malachi was no longer a competitor. Malachi had overshadowed him since they were in grade school. But that would go on no longer. Tonight, would be the end of the game.
They met several of Paige’s friends inside, people he was acquainted with because he’d chosen to spend so much of his spare time with Paige. There were only one or two that he genuinely liked, but he hid his disgust as he shook hands with them all. 
Once she was his, he would cull these lower class individuals from her social circle. It would be one of the first things he did. He wanted to appeal to a certain class of constituents, and these people just weren’t them.





Chapter Three
***
Two hours into the party and Mal’s path finally crossed with Julia’s again. She glared at him and stalked off. He laughed as he decided to make it his mission to keep her so riled, she'd have no choice but to explode...again. 
He made a mental note to duck when needed.
What he hadn't counted on was Julia's ability to avoid confrontation. It took him nearly an hour to find her again. She stood in the kitchen doorway, watching the dancers swaying across the make-shift dance floor—what was normally his dining room. He watched her for another moment, enjoying his slight time of voyeurism. His sister must have called her name; she turned back into the kitchen, her dress twitching around her pretty legs. 
The dress she wore was lovely, low-cut and revealing. And a good color choice for her. He might not have liked her personality, but even he had to admit there was nothing wrong with her body. Pity she usually kept it so ruthlessly covered. 
He either saw her dressed in shapeless suits or medical scrubs. Scrubs were his favorite—they at least hinted at the female body beneath. And when dressed in her medical garb she appeared confident. 
She was hard at work helping his sister Al set out punch, applying herself to the task with utmost concentration when he entered the kitchen. Hiding. He’d not missed the expression on her face as she’d watched the dancers. He considered for a moment—had he ever seen her dance with someone? Someone other than Ed Dennis? In an instant, his mind was made up. “Dr. Bellows, I was at least hoping for one dance before the night ends. Instead I find you in here.”
“I'm sorry; I make it a point not to dance with apes.” She didn't look up from the peach punch she was ladling. Mal heard his sister snicker. 
“Julia is a bit angry at me. She wouldn't really say I'm an ape. Then I'd have to say she was a shrew, or something of that nature.” He grinned at the shrew in question. “I would never do that.”
“Of course, you're too perfect for that.” She thickened her slight accent into a more noticeable southern drawl. “And who would ever accuse the great Malachi Brockman of not being perfect? Surely not I.”
She showed just the barest hint of teeth before looking away. “If you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” She left Malachi and Al standing watching her back as she wove through the dancers. 
“Good one, Mal.” Al bumped his shoulder with hers. “What did you do to her this time?”
Malachi smiled. “I probably deserved the stapler she heaved at my head this morning. I just can't seem to resist pushing her buttons. But she will dance with me before this party ends.”
He'd make sure of it.
It took him another forty minutes to corner her, and it was only in front of Ana and Paige that he did.
Julia wouldn't dare make a scene in front of her friends. And one thing Malachi could say was that she valued and protected her friends. God knew the woman didn't have very many. Just Georgia, Ana, Paige, Carrie, and Alessandra.
As luck would have it, the tempo slowed just as he slipped his arms around her. A woman's voice, low and throaty floated over the dance floor, soon joined by more. Paige, Carrie and Al sang beautifully, even more so when they sang together. This time they sang of enduring love. 
Mal pulled his partner closer, ignoring the way she resisted. Her hair brushed his chin, but he allowed her to keep an appropriate distance between their bodies.
It wasn't as if they were lovers, after all. It wasn't as if they even liked one another. He just wanted to dance with her. He held her almost gently, one hand low on her back, the other holding her left hand against his chest. She wasn't any bigger than Georgia or Ana and he'd danced with them hundreds of times. So why did she feel so different? 
Malachi didn't have a clue.





Chapter Four
****
Alessandra watched her brother and one of her closest friends as they danced. It was funny, seeing them not snipping and sniping at each other for once. It was refreshing, seeing someone yanking Mal’s chain, instead of fawning over him. Most women thought her brother was some type of god, and if she was objective enough she could see where he’d look pretty damned good. He was big and strong, with dark hair and beautiful blue eyes. And he had a great sense of humor, was highly intelligent, and very successful in his field. What her mother would refer to as a ‘prime catch’. 
Jules apparently didn’t agree. 
Al continued to sing, following Paige’s vocal lead for this song Paige had written about longing and waiting for that special someone. 
If that person even existed. Al certainly hadn’t found hers yet. 
But Jules had found hers. And lost him. Al had never asked the details of what had happened, but she knew enough from Georgia to put the pieces together. How horrible. To have someone you loved and then watch them die in front of you.
No wonder Jules seemed so alone. 
Loneliness was a real bitch sometimes.
Was Mal lonely? Al had never given it much thought, but watching him pull Julia even closer, watching him stroke the other woman’s back in an almost loving manner. 
Interesting.
Al missed her next cue from Carrie, coming in on the refrain just a half a beat too late. 
Was there something going on between Mal and Jules?
Al had often wondered if her brother had had feelings for Georgia or Ana, both who had been on his team at one time, but they’d paired off with Fin and Hell quickly once the other men had come into the picture. Leaving Mal on the sidelines, friends with them all.
Had that bothered Mal? Was that why he picked at Jules so much? Because she was close friends with both Georgia and Ana? Mal treated Jules differently than he did any other woman Al could remember. Did either of them realize that?
Except…he wasn’t teasing Jules now. He was holding her like he’d held her a thousand times before. Like he’d never let her ago…
Al felt a rush of envy for her friend. What would it be like to be held like Mal was holding Jules? When was the last time she’d felt that connection with a man?
Too many years for her to count—and she wasn’t quite thirty! 
Paige was staring at her, a question on her face. Al shook her maudlin thoughts away. Sent a thumbs-up to Paige to let her know Al was back with the program.
She was probably just seeing things between Jules and Mal that weren’t there. It wasn’t as if either had made any overt signs of attraction toward one another. They were just dancing. 
Kind of like Payton was dancing with Nathanial, Chalmers was dancing with their next door neighbor Tiffany, Smokey Jo from Smokey’s was dancing with Allen Kirkwood. Acquaintances sharing a dance. It was happening all over the space that usually acted as Al’s dining room area.
So why did what was going on between Jules and her brother look so different? 


Chapter Five
***
The woman in his arms—despite being beautiful in her country-bumpkin way—was completely unremarkable. Such a shame, really. Meredith had introduced them and suggested they dance.
He would do anything to not hurt Meredith. The woman was a saint, and if dancing with her daughter’s little wallflower friend pleased Meredith, than he would do it. No harm in that. What was but a moment of his time to share in a socially acceptable custom such as dancing at a party? 
Even Malachi was engaged in such an act—though he appeared quite happy to be wrapped around the small woman in his arms. 
He couldn’t quite see her through the crowd, at least not enough to identify her. Had he met her before? He mentally flipped through the guests he’d recalled meeting when he’d entered the party an hour ago. None came to mind who met her physical description.
Had Malachi brought a date to the party, perhaps? Meredith hadn’t mentioned either of her sons being involved. Was Malachi and his mother just didn’t know it?
A woman in Malachi’s life would complicate the plans he’d made for Meredith’s oldest son.
He could feel the outline of the chess piece in his pocket; the piece, a black Bishop, pressed against his thigh when he turned the woman in his arms for the dance. It brought a smile to his lips, one the woman he danced with thought was directed at her.
He studied her for a moment, taking in the blue eyes that were a bit unusual. Her hair was nearly as blonde as Alessandra’s, and they were near each other in height. She was definitely a pretty woman. But he far preferred another.
Blondes just weren’t his first choice, though if the woman in his arms was willing to accompany him to his home, he was sure he could enjoy her more fully.
She did bear a bit of a resemblance to Alessandra though the two weren’t related at all, as far as he knew. 
The piece in his pocket beckoned.
Yes, this thin blonde woman would make an excellent bishop. And she was close enough to Malachi’s precious team that it would make quite a statement.
He ramped up the smile he sent the woman. What was her name again? Didn’t it start with a “P” or a “B”? 
She was so incidental, he’d not bothered to remember her name. Pity, now that he needed it. 
He had no room for human error—even his own. The piece would stay in his pocket a bit longer.
Besides, it was best to not muddy the game board too much. He had too many plans for Malachi this evening.

Chapter Six
***


Jules almost wished she liked him. Then she could pretend that the dance meant something other than him trying to torment her. And that was exactly what he was trying to do. And he was doing a good job, too. But he probably didn't even know how. 
The jerk wore the same cologne as her dead husband. If she closed her eyes, and shrank Malachi just a little she could pretend she was dancing with Rick again. They said the sense of smell was the most powerful for evoking memories and she believed it. Now. 
Damn him. 
Julia tried to pull back. He frowned down at her and held tight. “You surely can finish one dance, Julia.”
She hated how he said her name. Nobody called her Julia. Hadn't since Rick. She'd told him to call her Jules, but he refused. “It's Jules. J-u-l-e-s; for someone so smart you're remarkably thick-headed. Don't call me Julia.”
“Jules sounds like something you'd name a Cocker spaniel.” His words were mild, which aggravated her all that much more. 
“Thanks. Try Dr. Bellows then if Jules offends you in some way.”
“Too formal for friends.” He guided her around the dance floor almost effortlessly. They never once stepped on each other. 
“We're not friends.” It took her a few moments to say it, but it did come out completely flat. Mild. Truthful. “We don't even like each other. Not that I will admit that to anyone else. Don't want to be accused of blaspheme against the great god Malachi Brockman.”
“Of course we're friends. Why else would we be dancing?” 
“Because you're a sadistic moron who can't tell when someone wants nothing to do with you? Far be it from me to point out your idiocy. You're the great psychologist; shouldn't you be able to figure it out for yourself?”
* * *
The entire time they danced she never raised her voice, never gave any indication she wasn't perfectly content right where she was. Malachi had to admit a small bit of admiration. The woman could say so much while saying so little. He pulled her a bit closer, just enough that he could feel the barest hint of her body pressed against his. If possible, he thought she was thinner than Georgia or Ana. Too thin. He had no trouble feeling the outline of her ribs beneath his hand. Unhealthily thin.
He frowned as he remembered the home videos he'd watched with Georgia just yesterday. He'd stopped by for a visit and found the extremely maudlin woman weeping as she'd watched three-year-old videos. It had concerned him at first, but Georgia had explained. She'd forgotten what it was like to have a toddler around, so she watched videos of Matthew's second birthday. 
Malachi watched with her a moment, eyes cataloging what appeared to be a happy, healthy young couple play with the beautiful little boy Malachi considered an honorary nephew. He'd watched as a younger Georgia answered the doorbell, revealing Dr. and Dr. Bellows.
The man was of average height, with brown hair and eyes. Just average. Until the camera focused on his face, where the sparks of humor and intelligence were hard to miss. 
But it was the love in the man's eyes as he looked down at the beautiful brunette at his side that Malachi would always remember. Dr. Rick Bellows had adored his wife, and it didn't take a behavioral scientist to see it. For a moment Malachi had wondered what it would be like to love a woman that much. To have her look up at him with just the expression that Julia had shot at the man.
Malachi had barely recognized her. Dressed in a low-cut blouse that flattered her body and coloring, she was a very stunning woman. She flaunted that in front of her husband. Bellows looked at her with indulgence as she flirted and pranced around him. The woman on video was nothing like the plain little stick she tried to convince everyone she was now. 
It was her laughter that had choked Mal up. Free, uninhibited, audacious, beautiful, full of life and love. Heartbreaking when he considered the woman he knew now. 
Once he got over the initial shock he'd tuned back in to the action on the video. It took him a moment to realize the truth—Julia had stuck a cigar in Georgia's hand. A pink and blue bubble gum cigar that signified one thing. Someone was pregnant, and from the way Georgia hugged her friend and squealed, Malachi knew it was Julia. He'd frowned and looked at his friend as she lay sniffling beside him.
Georgia had read his mind, something she was good at. Her low explanation had literally broken Malachi's heart. “This was recorded two weeks before the accident. She lost the baby the day of the funeral. That's when we completely lost that Julia. I keep hoping, praying, we'll eventually get her back. At least a little bit. Rick was her everything from almost the very moment they met. They'd been trying for two years for the baby. And having a difficult time. When she lost the baby, it terrified me. The Julia from that video was just...gone. I haven't seen her since.”
Julia Bellows hadn't just lost her husband that day, she'd lost her family. Her hope. It explained so much to him. 
He pulled her closer, running a hand down her back when she protested, a gesture intended to sooth. He wasn't fully aware of what he was doing, but as he recalled the Julia on video he needed the comfort. The danced on in silence. 
He fought the urge to close his eyes and bury his face in the thick softness of her honey brown hair. It was completely straight and smelled like the softest of flowers. They swayed together slowly as Paige sang on. He tucked her head under his chin, held her against his chest until the music ended. 
He stepped back. She looked up at him, wariness and suspicion in her hazel eyes. “Thank you for the dance, Julia.”
“My pleasure.” Her tone made the lie perfectly clear to him. “Now if you'll excuse me, I should go help Alessandra clean up the kitchen.”
“Not necessary. It's my kitchen after all.” Malachi followed her a few steps. He didn't make it; his mother stopped him, dragging an eager-looking young woman he didn’t recognize behind her.
Malachi heard Julia snicker as she escaped, leaving him to politely accept the dance partner his mother basically threw at him. 
As he led the woman to the makeshift dance floor he decided to let Julia have her retreat. This time. Besides, he wasn't too sure what he'd say to her right then, anyway. 
He didn't see her again until half of the guests had dissipated. When he did find her, it was to see her standing protectively in front of Paige as both women glared at his brother.
Malachi knew Paige and Mikhail hadn't exactly started off on the right note, but it surprised him they'd be so openly hostile toward one another. If Mick had said something to Paige to upset her, Malachi wouldn’t be happy. Mal loved that kid, and if he had his way he'd adopt her into his family completely. 
God knew Paige needed a family. He knew her story, knew how the courts had taken her and an older brother from her drug-addict mother three days after she'd been born. She'd been a ward of the state from that moment until the age of twelve. 
Paige had hit the streets at the tender age of twelve, somehow surviving the next six years living in dark alleys and overpasses. Malachi had nearly vomited when he'd learned how she and Carrie had survived, had learned how they'd sang for food money, how they'd hitch-hiked for warmer weather when necessary.
He had even seen some of the scars on Paige's scrawny body. Knife scars, belt marks, burn marks. The kid had been abused, had been through true hell—and still had an amazing capacity to love. Malachi did his best to protect her. In fact, he protected Paige more than he did his own sister. Mick just ignored Julia, glaring at the much taller Paige. 
Malachi didn't quite understand his brother at times. Ex-military Special Forces, Mick had gone straight into the FBI once his six year term was up. He'd then spent nearly a decade as an agent in violent crimes and white collar before making a startling jump to Internal Affairs. IA—one of the most hated divisions in the Bureau.
Mal hadn't seen him in nearly two years, until he'd shown up as a last minute replacement for one of the IA agents assigned to tear Ed Dennis’s career apart. Malachi wouldn't have Mick giving Paige a hard time.
Apparently Julia felt the same way. She slid her small body between Paige and Mick. Malachi fought the urge to laugh at the bulldog expression on her face as she glared up at his brother. A long way up.
Julia was five inches over five feet tall--he’d learned that during a previous case—nine inches shorter than Malachi. His brother stood twelve inches taller than Julia. Minimum. And Mick was extremely thick with muscle. He could pick Julia up one-handed if he wanted. And not even break a sweat.
Mick didn't even seem aware of Julia, all his attention focused on the much taller Paige. His brother growled something that had Julia's expression darkening and her chin rising. Paige glared up at him, her arms crossing in front of her body.
Malachi stepped between them. “Mick, how about a beer before we clean this place up?”
His brother switched his glare to Mal's face. He nodded down at Malachi, though the dark scowl stayed on his face. Mick had a bit of a temper; he remembered many fights between them as boys. He was three years older than Mick and the battles they'd engaged in had been intense. Mal wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. 
Brothers did that. He slapped his hand on his brother's shoulder as he led him back to the makeshift bar; he'd missed him, pain in the ass though he was. Infrequent phone calls and emails just hadn't been the same.
Still, now that Mick was in St. Louis for two weeks Mal intended to make the most of it. They could catch up. Spend the Thanksgiving holiday together with their mother and father and sister. It would be their first together in nearly a decade. 
He knew his parents would like that. They'd moved to the city two years ago, a year after Al had transferred to St. Louis. Two of their children in one city had been the incentive. Malachi loved having them close, and knew Al felt the same way. “It's good to have you here, little brother. I've missed your ugly face.”
“Sure you have.” Mick snorted. “I'm sure you had plenty of people around here to keep you company if you needed it.”
“Yes. I had plenty of friends. But a brother's a little different.” Malachi handed his brother a cold bottle then grabbed one for himself. “So what was that all about?”
“What?” Mick glared down. Malachi always found it ironic that his little brother stood three inches taller and outweighed him by fifty pounds. He wasn't so little anymore. 
“Paige and Julia.” 
Mick scowled. “That girl. She's going to get someone killed someday. Probably herself.”
“I take it you mean Paige? She's very good at what she does. Why do you think differently?”
“I've seen her kind before.” Mick took a swig from the bottle in his hand. Both men watched the two women as they helped the Brockman parents in the kitchen. Their mother hugged Paige, patted Julia's shoulder. She liked the two younger women, everything in her body language made that clear to Malachi. 
“What do you mean?”
“Young. Impulsive, reckless, idealistic. Pampered. Spoiled. Dark eyes that get them whatever they want. Until it gets them hurt or killed.” Mick slammed his bottle on the counter as he glared at the dark-eyed girl dancing around the kitchen, laughing with his sister. Malachi watched his dad ruffle Paige's dark hair. Watched her throw her arms around him and give him a hug. His father blushed, his mother laughed.
He pondered his brother's words a moment...dark eyes? “You've lost someone, haven't you, Mick?”
His brother's eyes flashed, eyes the same color as Malachi's. “None of your damned business, Mal. It's not open for discussion.”
“Anytime it is...” Malachi watched as his brother stormed into the kitchen. Grabbed the obviously heavy trash from Paige's hands and shouldered open the outside door. The kitchen's occupants paused a moment, watching him, as well.
Mick's behavior confirmed Malachi's suspicion. Paige reminded his brother of someone—someone he'd cared a great deal for. Someone he'd lost. And Mick was taking his grief out on Paige. Unfairly. Mal would have to make sure the situation didn't get out of hand—for either Paige or Mick. 
In the meantime—that bag of trash Julia held did look somewhat heavy. He walked into the kitchen with purpose. 
* * *
Jules wasn't leaving until the last of the kitchen was spotless. She’d enjoyed spending the time with Alessandra’s parents and had probably stayed a little too late. She was exhausted and her whole body ached. Still, it had been nice to see how a family interacted. Meredith and Kenneth Brockman were the kind of parents every child from a dysfunctional family dreamed about. Al and her brothers were very lucky. 
Julia's mother and step-father had drunk themselves into oblivion every night until they'd died in a drunken accident around Julia's twentieth birthday. Not exactly Norman Rockwell. Not like the Brockmans, though Julia’s family had actually been more well-to-do than the Brockmans. 
Julia, Paige, and them—Mick and Malachi—shooed the elder couple out the door. They'd worked hard enough pulling the party together; they didn't need to worry about the cleanup, too.
After they left with Al driving them home, Jules, Paige, and the two brothers worked diligently returning Malachi and Al's home back into the spacious open floor living area it was intended to be. Jules took down the decoration with silent help from the giant Mikhail. Paige and Malachi collected all the trash scattered throughout the house. Even though the house was huge by most standards—huge and open, airy—it's first level wasn't designed to hold over two hundred people comfortably. But it had. And it was left to four people to clean up the results.
If Malachi Brockman and his brother weren't there, Julia wouldn't have minded at all. But they did come in handy for heavy lifting. 
Soon it was all finished; the only thing left to do was carrying out the remaining trash bags. Paige and Julia agreed the brothers could handle that little chore, and Jules gathered her things. Paige would be staying the night. She lived clear across town, in a small basement apartment that was currently being repaired. It had been damaged by fire two days ago, and Paige would be staying with Al and Malachi until the repairs were finished. 
Paige disappeared, but Jules knew she'd most likely found her bed. Paige ran on an odd metabolic clock. She could stay up for days at a time and be fine, but once she hit bottom, she slept hard. Jules worried about her friend. Paige's nightmares would catch up to her one day. 
Her sigh was long as she threw her backpack over her shoulder. Thankfully, Jules didn't live too far away. Fifteen minutes and she'd be home in her own bed.
* * *
Malachi knew when she was ready to leave, and he met her by the back door. “Ready to go, Julia? You're more than welcome to stay here. We still have a bed free.”
“What about Paige?” Her words were low, exhausted, and suspicious. Malachi fought a soft smile. He resisted the urge to torment her somehow—she was obviously too tired for a good sparring match. In fact, she looked more than tired, she looked almost wan.
“Crashed on the porch. Hammock.”
“It's thirty degrees outside! And snowing!” 
“It's enclosed and there's a small heater out there. She'll be fine. She's done it before. She likes sleeping outside.” Probably a remnant of sleeping in alleys and on park benches. It made him frown. Maybe it wasn't a good thing. He'd have to give it more thought. Later.
“No. I'm going home.” She shook her head. “Don't leave her out there. It's too cold for her to lie out there.”
“Honestly—I think she did it deliberately. Put some space between her and Mikhail. He makes her nervous.”
“That's because he's a jackass. I think it's a trait his brother shares.” Her dig was said around a yawn so it lacked impact. Mal grabbed her arm and shook it chidingly.
“That's not nice, Dr. Bellows. I'm a perfect gentleman. My brother's the same. That's the way our mother raised us.”
Julia snorted, then sniffled. “Your mother may be a remarkable woman—and I do mean that—but she failed in one area. Two, if you count your brother.”
“You are a heartless woman.”
“I never said otherwise.” She walked carefully down the path, her heels crunching in the snow. Malachi stayed at her side in the uneven drive.
She said nothing as they approached her car. She slipped her key in the lock and turned to him. “Well, as you can see I've arrived at my car. Your duty is done—”
He smiled, the grin glowing in the low light. “Jul—”
The thud sent him reeling into her. Julia screamed, arms reaching up to catch him as he fell. Dark shadows seemed to come from everywhere, surrounding them quickly. Malachi jerked, his hand falling against her car. He spun, fist shooting out at the first shadow...

Guest Author Jeff Salter Talks About his Newest Book Celebrating WW2

This week I have author Jeff Salter (aka J.L. Salter) here to talk about his newest release Called to Arms Again. I have to admit, I find the story to be intriguing and I am definitely adding it to my TBR list! I love books with a strong cast of older secondary characters, and CTAA sounds right up my alley!

Without further ado...Here's Jeff!

'Have you ever read a novel which seemed so important and timely that you could hardly contain your enthusiasm about it? Have you ever WRITTEN such a story?

Well I have. At least it seems that important and timely to me. No, not FOR me — because this novel is my tribute to the Greatest Generation … and those still living are leaving us all too quickly. I’m a “baby boomer” — my parents and teachers (and practically every adult I knew) were among that generation which struggled through the Great Depression and sacrificed during World War II.
Called to Arms Again was released on May 30 from Astraea Press. Of the seven novels I’ve completed so far, this was my third written and my third fiction book published.

It’s the story of a young newspaper reporter looking for a new angle for her Veterans Day special section. Who better to give her a fresh perspective than a bunch of old war dogs who’d been there and back? Not only does Kelly Randall learn what the Greatest Generation was made of, but she soon discovers a great deal about her own mettle.

My story has action, comedy, romance, plenty of the American spirit, and an unashamedly healthy dose of patriotism. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, and you’ll cheer.

I haven’t gone ‘all-out’ with promotion of my first two novels – romantic suspense and romantic comedy – because they’re mostly enjoyed by readers of those genres. But the sky’s the limit on promoting C2AA — this story appeals to readers of both genders … from ages 19 to 90!

If you were born before about 1929, you ARE part of the Greatest Generation and you’ll find yourself (and your siblings and friends) in my story!


If you’re a Boomer (born after WW2) — your parents, aunts, uncles, and teachers were members of the greatest generation. Buy this book and read it, because you’ll recognize these characters. And if you have living parents or other relatives, tell them about my story.

Please remember, the WW2 generation – both those who served in the military and those who sacrificed on the homefront – are dying at a rate of about 1000 per day … so there is an urgency to let them know about this story which honors them!

If you’re the child of a Boomer Generation parent, you need to read this so you’ll understand what your grand-parents (and their siblings) went through and how they prevailed.

Don’t you agree that artist Elaina Lee did an outstanding job on my cover for Called to Arms Again ?

Grit doesn’t fade away ... it just becomes crusty. With harrowing elements right out of today’s headlines, this story reaches back into the sturdy heartbeat of people raised during the Depression and tested during World War II. Though the old uniforms haven’t fit in many decades, their resilient spirits still have that same intensity which helped save democracy.

Needing only a fresh angle to write her Veteran’s Day special, Kelly discovers first-hand that the Greatest Generation still has enough grit to fight back. While all the authorities are occupied during a massive Homeland Security drill, an urban gang of thieves targets an isolated retirement subdivision ... figuring the crippled geriatrics would offer no resistance.

Though Kelly’s widowed boyfriend came along only for a post-funeral luncheon, Mitch soon finds himself leading a mis-matched flanking team. Kelly’s good friend Wade has his own assignment, with a home-made mortar and lots of illegal gunpowder.

Maybe it’s difficult to remember everyday things like taking pills, but these octogenarians have never forgotten it was up to them to defend family, home, community, and country.  The outcome of their courageous stand depends on the resolve and resourcefulness of an unlikely ensemble of eccentric elderly neighbors, several American Legion members, and others spanning four generations...'


Jeff, 
It sounds wonderful! Thanks for coming here and sharing a bit about Called to Arms Again!

CJ

To Check Out Called To Arms Again (and other books by J.L. Salter) you can visit Amazon or Barnes & Noble, not to mention Astraea Press!

How do you Write?

Ok, I’ll admit it…I’m a procrastinator when it comes to writing. I need to put off until the deadline or I can’t seem to function as well. One of the main ways I procrastinate is by talking with my writer-buds online. We have all sorts of discussions, mostly centered around writing and publishing. The other day the question was raised not about what we write, but how we actually write.
As in ‘how did we write physically´or what little quirks and habits we all had.
So I asked a few to come over here and talk today about how they wrote.
Kay Springsteen, co-author of Something Like a Lady, and A Lot Like a Lady, is definitely detail-oriented. (She’s also a plotter, but more on that later). J.L. Salter is a lot like me, and prefers to procrastinate with facebook until late in the day. Here’s what the two had to say:
 Kay:
The Argiope aurantia that inhabit my yard build these really cool webs that look like stick white zippers. They span about 2-3 feet in some places, usually between my boxwood and azalea bushes, sometimes between a pair of roses. Oh, did I mention Argiope aurantia are spiders? Beautiful creatures, really. About the size of an old-fashioned half-dollar when fully grown, they've been known, in my yard anyway, to capture and consume large moths and painted lady butterflies. These spiders are known by many different common names - black and yellow garden spider, corn spider, and my favorite nickname, the writer spider. When I start to see them in spring, they're no more than the size of a pencil eraser but they still manage to build these elaborate webs, so I know they're around. 

And when I know they're around, I feel the pull to write even more strongly than normal. Are they whispering to me like muses? Inspiring? Intriguing because of their web? Or do I feel an affinity because of their nickname? I have no idea, but the words seem to flow when the writer spiders reside in my yard. 

Of course, in order to make optimum use of these little helpers, my workspace has to be optimized. Bottled water - Deer Park or Nestle are favorites. Lots of bottles lined up within reach. A bag of something crunchy nearby - pretzel sticks, some corn chex (dry), or some dry chow mein noodles - is a must. A package of Chips Ahoy must be hand for that sweet tooth time when I need to ponder a romantic scene (of course if it's too handy, my dog, Cammie brings me toys in hope of exchanging one ratty chewed up toy for a cookie, so they must also be out of sight).

   But when the mood to write hits at the same time my brain HEARS that music, magic happens and I write scenes packed with emotion (all kinds) that even I don't believe came from me when I re-read them. And when THAT particular magic happens while the Argiope aurantia are in my yard... it can be like an explosion.

The TV is playing in the background and I see the picture, but I don't hear it. This is mostly because it's my connection with the outside world - if something happens, I want to KNOW. My dogs also love to watch it, so they often settle down better with it on. My daughter's pit bull mix, Dante, who has been staying here for a while, is absolutely in LOVE with Rachel Ray, so we try to make sure he can catch a show or two of hers.

Now I live alone except for my rescued dogs - mixed breeds of assorted sizes and personalities. Loki - a fox terrier/rat terrier/yorkie mix who is middle-aged and agoraphobic sits with me and often seems to be reading the screen - his younger adopted brother Walter must rest his head against my heart - I haven't determined if he's doing this for the comforting sound or if he just wants to make sure my heart is still beating. The aforementioned Camilla - lab/Staffordshire terrier/heeler mix - will always tell me when she thinks I've been "at it" too long. She'll bring me toys, bits of trash she rescues from the kitchen can if I forget to latch the door beneath the sink, socks, shirts, towels from the laundry. If I'm not paying attention, I might look up and discover these things on my arm, shoulder, head, back. Never by my feet. My feet are the territory of another rescue dog, Angel - border collie/Australian shepherd/something moose-sized mix (at best guess) - a dog of about 100 pounds and wide as a coffee table. She must touch me when she sleeps so she usually curls up on my left foot.

All of these things in the right place at the right time, and I can write for hours and hours. Oh, and most of this happens at the wonderfully witching hours between midnight and 3 a.m. Sometimes during the day I'll set myself up and find myself doing nothing but sitting and staring at a blank screen. When I discovered that the night holds very few interruptions, it became my very best friend.
I absolutely have to start the day with chocolate. A plain Hershey's chocolate bar - full size - and a glass of milk to sharpen my mind and get me motivated. I usually check in at my Farmville Farm to see if anything grew - they really should consider spiders... Then I plug in my headphones. My MP3 player is on the smaller side as far as how much music it holds - 32g with an expansion slot of 64g. It's not filled - not even close, with just about 3000 songs on it - though I do have an odd mix of things from Big Band to 60s rock-n-roll, to classic rock, to metal, to pop, to easy listening, to new age, to country, to classical, to... you must have the picture by now. My specific music tastes are so wide, I am un-categorizable. I HAVE to hear the music to be able to write - sometimes it's there for company, sometimes for inspiration. Sometimes on random the inspiration hits when a song just pops up out of nowhere and the creative juices seem to flow. Sometimes I go looking for a song that has the right feel for a scene I'm writing, or a character's theme song. If I don't "hear" the music, I can't write. And unfortunately, there's plugging it in and turning it on so it plays in my ears... and there's actually HEARING it.


Jeff’s routine is a bit different: (His newest release hit the Amazon eshelves this weekend! Check it out!) 
Calle invited colleagues to share how they write. 
Boy, I can give y’all an earful.
But a short background first:  While working full-time, I went to bed about 9:30 p.m., rose at 5:25 a.m. and was in my office by 7. Worked all day – public library administration – went home, took a nap, and watched TV ‘til 9:30, when I went to bed.
When I retired, I set down a firm [as if] rule of the household:  my mornings are ‘mine to write’ and I won’t be disturbed.   You already know where this is heading. 
 Anyway, surprisingly, my schedule morphed in a dramatic 3 hour slide — now I was going to bed after midnight and not rising ‘til about 8:30 a.m.  So that precious morning period which I so zealously guarded was shortened by 3 hours even before I got started!
Then, in Jan. 2009, I joined Facebook.  Lordy, how did I ever survive before my daily fix of half-a-dozen log-ons of an hour apiece?  And blogging … and e-mail.
Well, in keeping with my credo of protected mornings, I refused to schedule ANYthing before 1 p.m.  So, now, all my medical appointments (and my Mom’s) are at 1, my Mom’s weekly trip to the grocery at 1, my Mom’s water exercise at the Y (and my own exercise sessions) at 1.  You get the picture:  All my afternoons are cluttered, beginning at 1 p.m.
You can see where I’m going:  those precious creative morning sessions got shaved by 3 hours on the front end, delayed by innumerable FB posts and blogs, and crowded on the back end by having to get ready for all those 1 p.m. activities.  [Invariably, I’ll be ready to jump on some ‘writing’ thing, but will look at the time and see I have only 30 or 45 minutes remaining until I have to get ready for my 1 o’clock.]
Where am I heading?  My mornings have been delayed and squandered … and pinched by early afternoon appointments.  My afternoons have been cluttered by appointments and my MUCH-needed daily nap.  By the time I wake up fully (from nap) and locate the supper plans, it’s time for a shower.  Then – during a period when I used to be already asleep – I finally have about two hours to WRITE. After I check Facebook, of course.(Jeff Salter)
Jeff and I have lots of conversations on facebook, I can say that for sure! (I am a BIG facebook procrastinator!) Now that Kay and Jeff have shared their habits, I should probably tell you a bit about mine… First, when I handwrite—about a quarter of my total writing time—it must be with black ink. Definitely not blue, or pink, or any other such nonsense. And my notebook paper has to have blue lines. Period. When I type—which I do if it’s not storming, as my home office is actually on my glassed in front porch—I must have the screen—a 27incher—set to 220%. That way I can see everything without straining my eyes. I also usually have some kind of music going. I tend to make a playlist per book, and will play those songs over and over until the book is finished. For the latest book, Hunting (6/30/13), I’ve found that the German bands such as Preluders and Queensberry seem to fit the book best. For the last PAVAD book, Second Chances, I used a lot of country songs that fit Dan and Ed the  best. Like Kay, I am surrounded by canine office assistants. I have three—a big old mutt (11 yrs) with suspected St. Bernard ancestry, and two female Border collies. They surround me when I’m working to the point where I can’t move an inch in my chair without rolling over some various dog part. Also like Kay, I write best between 11pm and 3am and that’s when we usually run into each other online!
 Unlike Kay, the thought of spiders staring at me while I write kind of freaks me out—instead, I have what I suspect is a family? of bats living in my gutters right now. And since I’m on the porch, they can see me!
Bats don’t freak me out. At all. They’ve not been at my house very long, but maybe I will begin to find them inspiring? Maybe they will help me write about—oh, I don’t know, something like vampires, perhaps?

So, if you are writers, how do you do it? With spiders? Facebook? Or vampires----I mean bats! watching over your shoulder? 

Today I have a friend and fellow writer, Shea Ford, visit...

Today I have a friend and fellow writer, Shea Ford, visiting to talk about gluten intolerance, and it's affect. Shea is an awesome writer and harpist, and  a mother of two. About six months ago we tried going gluten-free for the kid, but thankfully wheat/gluten are not something she reacts to! 

So without further delay (I'm running a bit behind today!) here's Shea! (rhymes not intential, I swear!)




Thanks very much to Calle  for inviting me to write about food allergies for her blog. I hope I don’t overload it.
My problems are with gluten, and there is an incredible amount of good and bad information about it.
 Gluten is anything from wheat, barley, and rye. Oats, apparently, are not safe for people like me either, and I’ve never had the courage to try them. Fortunately, my kids are allergy free, though I’ve got my eye on my eldest who is ultra picky. I never knew I had issues with gluten until 2 years ago, but now I recognize that I’ve had it all my life.
How it started for me:
So a friend recommended that I make smoothies with wheat germ, wheat bran, and flax seeds. At first, they were great! I’d have one in the morning, a bit chewy but tasty, then I wouldn’t be hungry till 2 pm! Woo hoo! With 2 small boys, it was nice not to have to stop and eat so often.
But then…
My body said, “ENOUGH!” I struggled to keep food down and constantly felt like I’d run a marathon. The “bathroom issues” were horrible. I never could tell if I needed to eat B.R.A.T. foods or drink some Miralax. What was wrong with me? That was the worst – not being able to figure it out.
I went to a GI “specialist” (note the lack of confidence) who ran tests on me for a month. Finally, he was going to call it Irritable Bowel Syndrome – translation: “Ya got me on this one. I’m stumped. But thanks for letting me charge lots of dough [pun intended] for the tests!” After talking to another friend, I inquired about Celiac Disease (or, for those across the pond, Coeliac Disease).
Two days after I completely cut gluten, I felt incredible. But the unreliable doctor trusted blood test came back negative for CD. So officially, I’m gluten intolerant, but being my own advocate I have my doubts.
It doesn’t really matter. For me, gluten = poison.

It’s estimated that 1 in 133 people have CD. It’s one of the most under- and misdiagnosed medical issues. Why is that?
There are over 200 symptoms of CD and not everyone has the same symptoms. Some people are even asymptomatic. The worst part, most doctors know as much as the average Joe because there isn’t any medication to treat it.
*whispers to self* The topic is food allergies, not drug companies… *deep breath*
The longer I stayed away from gluten, the longer the symptoms hung around whenever I accidentally ate it. I’m now up to suffering for over a month if I give hubby a quick kiss goodbye not realizing that he’s been eating Ritz. I’ve had to change out my cookware, give up drive thru’s (except PDQ ), reeducate my family on cooking holiday meals, etc.
But it’s totally worth it.
I’ve alleviated more than the digestive pain. I’ve gotten rid of my anemia, anxiety/depression, brain fog (imagine cotton being removed from your thoughts), constipation, diarrhea, nausea, vomiting, inexplicable exhaustion, severe abdominal pain (think rocks rolling in your belly wearing barbed wire coats), and random bouts of lactose intolerance. I’ve also decreased my risk of colon cancer (which runs in my family) and liver disease.
What I recommend: If you suspect gluten intolerance or CD, read Living Gluten-Free for Dummies. I’m a big fan of the Dummies series and the author, Danna Korn, has gone through trial by fire where gluten is concerned. BONUS: She’s very good about getting you to laugh about what can feel frustrating. There is also a fantastic website, http://www.celiac.com/ which has great info and forums where you can ask anyone questions about their experiences with gluten. I also have a blog where I talk about it from time to time at http://sheaford.wordpress.com/
Thanks again for having me Calle! :D


Anytime, Shea!

Handling Food Allergies In the Classroom

Today I have with me a friend and editing colleague  visiting here today to help answer questions every parent of a kid with food allergies considers before making the decision to send their child to school. Bea runs the popular book review site Bea's Book Nook, and is also a teacher with more than twenty years' of experience in the classroom. She's been a great help to me as I've started homeschooling Stinkerbell's preschool, and her post today is absolutely the most helpful I've come across when dealing with food allergies in classrooms or child care environments!
Thank you Bea!
Handling Food Allergies in the Classroom
Thank you Calle for letting me come on your blog and share my experience with you and your readers.
I’m Bea. 
I have food allergies, I run a book review blog, I edit, and I teach. The school I teach at is an early childhood center that has children ranging in age from two months to nine years of age, but most of what I have to say is applicable in all classrooms, regardless of the child’s age. Let me state that I am not a medical professional. I have basic first aid and CPR training but that’s the extent of my medical training. Always discuss matters with your doctor. 
When I first started teaching twenty-one years ago, we didn’t have any students with food allergies. These days, every classroom in my school has at least one student with a food allergy. Over the years we have developed procedures and the state also has regulations on how to handle food allergies.
The most important tool for keeping your child safe is communication. From the time you enroll your child or they are diagnosed, you need to constantly communicate with the school and with your child’s teachers. Most school forms have a place for noting medical issues; make sure that you are detailed and honest. Depending on the severity of the allergies, or how plentiful they are, arrange a meeting with the teachers and, if there is one, a school nurse. 
This is your time to discuss any concerns and worries you have. Inquire as to the policy for food being served in the room or just being present in the room. How and where is food stored? Do you need to provide your own food? What are the school’s policies on what food can be served? Ask what the policies and procedures are for your school and your child’s classroom in particular. What about special events in the classroom? 
Will the teacher notify you in advance so you can provide something for the occasion? Is it possible for you to keep something on hand for those occasions? Is there a cafeteria or central eating room? What arrangements need to happen to allow your child to safely eat there? Maybe a separate table? Dishes from home? How severe are your child’s allergies? Do they need to actually ingest the food? Touch it? Breathe it in? The teachers and administration need to know this so they can plan accordingly.
 Say your child has a peanut allergy. Do they have to actually eat a peanut or peanut product or will they react if they touch it? What about the residue from the oil, will that cause a reaction?
The state I teach in has such strict regs around serving food to children with allergies that we now require all children with allergies to bring their own snacks in addition to lunches (we typically provide snacks and parents provide lunches). We are not allowed to serve them any school food; additionally all packaged food, crackers, etc., must remain in the package for storage. Prior to this regulation change, we had parents look over our snacks and approve which ones could be served. We can no longer do that. If it helps, make a list of questions and concerns and as you all talk, add to your list. 
Ask to see the kitchen and cafeteria if the school has those; a visit may prompt more questions on your part. Be sure to detail the exact reaction that your child has. Bear in mind that younger children don’t view the world or express themselves the way we do. A throat that is closing up may be described by the child as a fuzzy throat, for instance. So please share as much information as you have with the teachers; it could save valuable time in the event of a reaction.
This year, I have a child with a peanut allergy. To the best of his parents knowledge, he has to actually ingest the peanut product but we, the teaching team, are paranoid. So, we have two tray chairs (it’s a class of one and two year olds) that we have reserved as peanut-free. Each chair and tray has a large laminated “No Peanuts” sign prominently attached. So, our child who is peanut allergic, I’ll call him Henry, sits there for every snack and lunch and the other chair is available for any child with peanut-free food. We’ve also designated certain chairs and tables specifically for peanuts. Some parents use alternative butters such as soy butter or almond butter in their children’s lunches. If the parent doesn’t tell us about it at drop-off, when we open up the lunch boxes, we assume it’s peanut butter and behave accordingly. 
No child may leave their chair until they have been thoroughly washed and we make sure when Henry is done eating, that he stays out of the kitchen area until it is fully cleaned up.
Additionally, every classroom posts their children with allergies. A close up facial shot with a paper stating what they are allergic to and what to do if the child has a reaction is prominently displayed on an upper cabinet door in the kitchen area. So, if a substitute teacher is in the room, the info on who can’t have what is right there in front of them. If your school doesn’t do this, ask how teachers, aides, subs, etc., know who has allergies and what they’re allergic to.
Each family also provides written directions on what to do in case of a reaction or suspected exposure and the necessary medicine. So Henry has a bag in the classroom easily accessible to teachers with the same info that’s posted in the kitchen plus directions on what to do, which parent to call and at what number, a bottle of children’s Benadryl and an epi-pen. 
All staff at our school are trained each year to administer an epi-pen, an injector that allows us to inject epinephrine to slow down a reaction. In addition to providing all this for the classroom, the parents are asked to provide a second bag to be kept in the office. That way, wherever the child is when he or she reacts, a teacher can go wherever is closest, to the office or classroom, so that no time is wasted.
Allergic reactions can take many different
 forms. Stinkerbell's are most often
 skin-related, on her arms,
legs, tush, belly, and face.The state currently doesn’t allow us to do that, so any cooking can only happen when the child with allergies is not in attendance that day. If your school cooks, be sure to discuss what the procedures are and be willing to work with the teachers so they can make foods that are safe for your child. I always had parents double-check the ingredients that I was going to use and look over the recipe to see if they spotted any potential problems. Perhaps you can provide recipes that you know are safe for your child and identify safe foods that can be used in recipes.
It is possible for your child with allergies to safely attend school. You and the school need to communicate and work together to make it happen. Don’t hesitate to ask questions or to ask for a plan to be put in writing. If it helps when dealing with administration, think of your child’s allergies as a special need and schools are required to make reasonable accommodations.
I hope this has helped and if you have further questions, you are welcome to email me at beasbooknook@gmail.com. I’m happy to answer and to talk with you.

Also, anyone commenting on any posts made between 5/15 and 5/19 will be entered to win the prizes I'm giving away for the Rachel Van Dyken Blog Hop Party going on now!

Patricia Kiyono on raising a child with Food Allergies

I'm privileged to have another bestselling author (and friend!) here today, to tell about how it looks on the other side of the fear. Patricia Kiyono, co-author of The Calico Heart, tells the story of someone who has been through the trenches of food allergies as she talks about her daughter Robyn's growing up with allergies to nuts and how at 25, Robyn is still cautious, but is able to fully enjoy her life--even with allergies! 
Thanks, Patricia, for being here!
And now, I give the floor to Patricia!
"When my children were small, I tried to make sure they ate healthy, balanced meals, but once in a while I'd bring out the peanut butter and jelly. The first four kids were fine with that, but my youngest daughter, Robyn, never liked peanut butter. She'd push it away and ask for something else. She wasn't a fussy eater; she just didn't like peanut butter. Her appetite was healthy, so I didn't think much of it.One day when Robyn was three years old, my husband brought home a small bag of cashews. He gave one to Robyn and told her, "It's not like a peanut. It's better." She tasted one, but insisted she didn't like it.We went to church that evening, and I dropped her off at the toddler choir rehearsal and went to direct my own group. But a half hour later, her teacher brought her into my rehearsal carrying a sobbing Robyn. When she turned her face toward me, I was horrified. Her entire face had puffed out and was deep red. I left my choir and my older children in another adult's capable hands, and raced home to call the pediatrician. After asking questions about her condition, he gave me instructions and told me to call him back if she didn't improve in two hours. Fortunately, she responded immediately to the over-the-counter medication, though we spent an anxious night watching over her. Fortunately, the treatment he prescribed did the trick, and Robyn was soon back to her cheerful self. We now had the answer to why she didn't like peanut butter, and we started reading labels carefully. Since the rest of the family loved nuts in our desserts and salads, it was an adjustment. We notified relatives, friends, and her preschool. We taught Robyn to ask beforebiting into a dessert whether it contained nuts. And I always kept a bottle of antihistamine in my purse.I'd heard people say that children sometimes outgrow these allergies, and although her doctors never told us that, we hoped for the best. But if anything, the sensitivity got worse. During high school, Robyn had to give up a job at an ice cream shop because the nut toppings made her arms break out in angry red welts, even though she wore gloves and never touched them directly. While she was in college, an accidental brush with peanuts at a Chinese buffet left her entire mouth swollen. Now, at age 25, she carries an EpiPen with her in her purse. She is careful to ask about ingredients in desserts and other dishes. I still worry about her, of course, but she is an adult, and I have to trust that she can take care of herself."
(Calle's note: We're already teaching Stinkerbell the list of foods that trigger her allergies--tell her it has cheese in it and she won't touch it! Being open and frank with her, even at two has helped us alot!)

Patricia goes on to tell us about her book!Sylvia Miller, the heroine in The Calico Heart, is a lot like me in that her children are grown and on their own. I was able to put a lot of myself in her, since I've lived through her joys and frustrations. Here's the blurb:On the surface, Sylvia Miller has a perfect life. She's married to her college sweetheart, has three great kids, a rewarding career, and wonderful friends. But now that her youngest child is grown, she's ready for adventure.Left a penniless orphan, David Miller promised himself his family would never know the same humiliation. For twenty-six years, he and Sylvia have lived frugally, saving for the future. Now, Dave is on the brink of a promotion that will ensure their financial security, but Sylvia wants him to retire and travel with her. When Dave refuses, Sylvia decides to go alone. But it's a decision that could cost them much more than money.

Thanks Patricia! I'm looking forward to reading The Calico Heart, as I love books with older heroines! 
You can buy Patricia's (and Stephanie's) book(s) at Amazon and Astraea Press! Patricia also hangs out at her website here.

Rachel Rocks! BLOG HOP & Giveaway May 15th-19th to celebrate Rachel Van Dyken's Success!

When I started content editing for Astraea Press in 2011, one of
the first authors I was privileged to work with was Rachel Van Dyken , author of Every Girl Does It, The Redemption of Lord Rawlings, and the Ugly Duckling Debutante (among many other titles!) 

Rachel was fun to work with and the editing process was beautiful! She's also been a real pleasure to get to know in the last two years.

In those two years, Rachel's career has skyrocketed and she's topped the New York Times  and  USA Today Best Seller Lists. 


This is no small accomplishment! 



And now...she's landed a contract with one of the BIG GUYS of publishing! Grand Central Publishing (Hatchette) has offered Rachel a contract for her two New Adult self-published titles The Bet and Elite.



To help her celebrate, a bunch of us are throwing her a "Rachel Rocks" Blog Party!
The party starts May 15th and ends May 19th. There will be tons of prizes, giveaways, and sneak peeks, and just general fun as we help Rachel celebrate!

Because I'm thrilled to see Rachel achieve this success with her self-published titles (as I am a big, big, big fan of self-publishing), I'm giving a set of prizes away each day May 15th-May 19th, with all winners announced on May 20th (as per blog hop rules!). 




May 15th:  2 commenters will receive all 3 current titles in my PAVAD:FBI romantic suspense series: WATCHING, WANTING, & SECOND CHANCES. 

May 16th: 
3 commenters will receive 2 full-length Dardanos, Co. or 2 full-length PAVAD novels of their choice.

May 17th: 
3 commenters will receive an ebook of their choice plus a copy of either SECOND CHANCES or The Dardanos, Co. Omnibus: 5-In-1.
May 18th:  3 commenters will receive The Dardanos, Co. Omnibus and WATCHING ebooks.

May 19th: 
1 commenter will receive the first three novels in the Dardanos, Co. series (Live or Die, The Warrior's Woman, & Awakening the Demon's Queen) and 1 commenter will receive all 3 current titles in the PAVAD:FBI romantic suspense series (WATCHING, WANTING, & SECOND CHANCES).



All prizes will be in the ebook format of the winners' choices  from Smashwords.  To enter, all you have to do is comment on any blog post at this site published this week each day you want to be entered to win. Winners will be chosen using Random.org.  For sneakpeeks at my series' check out my free reads page! http://www.callejbrookes.com/#!free-reads/c1gx2

Last time I checked, there were at least thirty-five other authors participating in Rachel Rocks, (including my close friends USA Today bestselling authors Kay Springsteen and Kim Bowman--coauthors of A Lot Like a Lady & Something Like a Lady!) so don't forget to check them out and see what these awesome, wonderful writers, and seriously fun people are offering.
I know most of these authors, and I talk with many of them daily. They are great friends, wonderful colleagues, genuinely nice people, and are extremely supportive of each other. It has been my absolute pleasure to work with all of them, and to see many of them succeed with their careers. 
Hopefully, Rachel's success is just the beginning--for her, and for the other authors participating in Rachel Rocks! 
To check out the other authors, click the links below!
(And Hey Rachel! ROCK ON!)







1. Rachel Van Dyken 2. Kim Bowman 3. Gunnar Grey 4. Ruth J. Hartman 5. Patricia Kiyono 6. Kay Springsteen 7. C.S. Moore 8. Joselyn Vaughn 9. Lynn Spangler 10. Jessie Andersen 11. Calico Daniels 12. Lisa Orchard 13. Wendy Knight 14. Brenda Maxfield 15. Moriah Densley 16. Meg Mims 17. Leah Sanders 18. Kristin Vayden 19. Jennifer Comeaux 20. Heather Gray 21. Catherine Bennett 22. Elaine Cantrell 23. Iris Blobel 24. Jennifer Rae Gravely 25. Kelly Martin 26. Jeff Salter 27. Lindi Peterson 28. Sherry Gloag 29. Tifferz And Her Sisterz Book Review 30. E.A. West 31. Christina Cole - Historical Romance 32. Karen King 33. Vivian Roycroft 34. Cheryl Kay35. Calle J. Brookes

Food Allergies and Artificial Sweeteners with author Kim Bowman

Today I have a good friend here, visiting the blog. Kim's my first 'guest' here at the new place, and I can't think of a better writer to visit. Kim and I go way back in our careers, close to three years ago when we met through an eharlequin.com writing group--along with Stephanie Taylor, owner of Astraea Press.

Wow. Who knew three years ago would be considered the Dark Ages!

Kim was an absolute godsend when I was writing the first several books in my series'--especially WATCHING. I don't know how many emails flew back and forth between us as we discussed my serial killer and the fact that we just didn't like Georgia--back then. Because I hadn't gotten to the heart of who Georgia was.

Georgia was a woman who wanted to do the best she could to keep Matthew, the little boy she'd adopted, as safe as she possibly could. And the one person standing in Georgia's way was her boss Michael "Hell" Hellbrook.

Kim had a thing for Hell, and we laughed about that. ALOT.

Well, I finally figured out how to make Georgia more relateable, and then Kim and I both agreed the book was done. Finished. And I could take a break to focus on what was going on with my daughter. Stinkerbell had just gotten her egg allergy diagnosis and I was in a talespin trying to figure out how to feed the kid who was rapidly switching over to solid food completely.

Kim was one of my rocks, as she'd been through food allergy scares with her son Cage. Cage is a few years older than my daughter, and if it was still 'the thing' to do, I think we'd have Stinky and Cage betrothed by now. They are both little firecrackers who I know would have a blast together!

Although I'm not so sure Kim and I would survive it!

Cage has very specific reactions to artificial sweeteners. Artificial sweeteners are in more than just 'sugar-free' foods. There in kids medicines, too.

Kim is here to tell us a bit about her experiences! Thanks Kim, for being here!





"Helpless horror. That's the only way to describe the way I felt the first time I witnessed my son having an allergic reaction to aspartame, aka an artificial sweetener. Cage was about 6-7 months old, sitting in his high chair, enjoying some vanilla pudding. I'd taken his shirt off, knowing how messy he would be. Within a couple of minutes, he was screaming, his whole body tense and shaking. I scooped him up, panicked. Then I noticed his chin and little chest were beet red and covered in blisters. Cage had to be in unimaginable pain.
My heart hit the pit of my stomach. I'd seen this on my kidlet before…when he'd been given amoxicillin for an ear infection. He was having a full-blown allergic reaction to something. As I dialed Cage's doctor, my dad got me a bag of ice for Cage's chest. When I told the nurse what was happening, she asked me what he was doing when he started screaming. I told her. I'm explaining to her that Cage has eaten vanilla pudding numerous times before and never had this problem, but there was no doubt in my mind that he was having an allergic reaction. Cage was getting louder at this point. I grab one of the containers of pudding and read the label. Sugar free pudding. I tell the nurse this and her next words chilled me to the bones.
"Give him a double dose of the allergy med you have and get here NOW!"
My dad and I rushed him to the doctor's office. The ice had helped and he was calming down after getting the allergy medicine, but he was still sobbing and I ended up having to hold him because he screamed when I tried to buckle him in his car seat. His little tongue was swollen, eyes bloodshot. He was a mess…and so was Mommy.
Long story short, Cage is highly allergic to aspartame, the main ingredient in artificial sugars and sweeteners. He was lucky that I had allergy meds for him and that we kept them on hand for him due to his severe allergies to all antibiotics and because we don't know what else he might react to and when. That allergy medicine was our lifeline for him. He ended up on steroids for two weeks to counteract his reaction. Scary stuff.
This is not an uncommon allergy for people to have. The severity of Cage's reaction was a bit above normal. Most kids might just complain of a stomachache after eating something with an artificial sweetener, which indicate they very well might be allergic to aspartame or at the very least that it isn't something their bodies can handle. We are extremely cautious with Cage. But the scary thing is, not everyone respects our fears and concerns about foods that our son can't have.
People tend to not take such allergies seriously.
We were at a family gathering when Cage was two. By the time we got him home, he was screaming, writhing in pain. Blisters in his mouth, on his lips. We knew. I called our hostess wanting to know if there was any way possible Cage would have gotten anything made with artificial sweeteners.
Her answer was that she had used Splenda…which is made from sugar.
Sigh.
Cage is one of most beautiful kids I've ever met! And he's got
a great personality, too! Just like his mama!Take note. Splenda is an artificial sweetener. It contains the same preservatives as all other artificial sweeteners. Just because real sugar is an ingredient doesn't mean it isn't dangerous (or deadly) to someone with an aspartame allergy. Like I said, it's much more common than people are aware. People just might not realize that's the problem because they don't have the severe reaction Cage does.
As you can see, our guy is healthy and to look at him, you'd never know he's got such severe allergies. Hence the horror. Cage is very healthy. He rarely gets the sniffles, mostly deal with sinus issues due to allergies. And yet we worry constantly that he'll eat a snack and end up fighting for his life. 
Living with allergies is just what I said, helpless horror. Because as cautious as we are, it only protects him so much."


Kim and her co-writer, Kay Springsteen (who once told me the bad guy in WATCHING was "Chillingly brilliant." and gave me the boost to keep writing the rest of the series) have reached USA Today Bestseller status with there Ladies Series published through Astraea Press (where we've all worked as editors together). If you hurry, you can get Something Like a Lady for .$99!
I've read both books and let me tell you, they are fun, beautifully written and engaging! I can't recommend any better regency reads than these! And Kim & Kay--get writing! We need more!


Don't forget, anyone commenting on any of the posts on this blog today, is entered to win in the RACHEL ROCKS! Blog Hop currently going on now! The Links are here:

Food Allergy Awareness Week!

There is a week for just about everything now, isn't there? Or a month, or a day, just all kinds of things to help people remember and recognize the conditions that millions of people around the world have.

In our house, we celebrate this week. Food Allergy Awareness Week. 

We celebrate it every minute of every day.

Because we have to. 
You can see the rash on her face from being outside.
This was a 'mild' allergy day, just from environmental
triggers. Food reactions are much, much worse.
Our only child, Stinkerbell, suffers from eight different food allergies, in addition to her environmental and contact allergies. She's almost 2 1/2, and every time she puts something in her mouth, we have to watch, weigh, and be cautious.

Because her reactions are just that bad. 

She's had reactions to different allergens so badly that it has taken her weeks to recuperate--just to be stricken by an allergen again. At times, it's a never-ending cycle for her. Often the reactions will end up causing respiratory issues, as well. Which means it takes her even longer to get feeling better. It's horrible for her! 

Food allergies (and all allergies) are something we take very, very seriously around here! 

At six months old, I gave her the first jar of baby food sweet potatoes. It was her last of that particular  food. Hives and rash within moments sent us rushing to our pediatrician who thankfully was only three minutes away from our house--much closer than the hospital 20 minutes away.

His verdict was no more sweet potatoes, and while we're at it, lets switch her to soy milk to see if the small patch of eczema will clear up. After all, Daddy had a milk allergy...

Boy, did it not! Soy made her beet red. That was not a fun day or night!

So we switched to Neocate formula, one of the most expensive on the market, at close to 45$ a can! 

At almost ten months we decided she would try scrambled eggs--made with water--for breakfast. We knew within minutes that something wasn't right. She vomited and went limp, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. And then this kid, who had never vomited before and hasn't since did it again. And again. 

Apparently, reactions to foods can take many, many different forms.

So we rushed the 20 minutes--through the country because of road construction--to the local ER. 

Diagnosis: food allergy to eggs. No kidding. Her list was just growing. 

We avoided nuts, strawberries, peanuts/tree nuts, and fish just to be cautious, but now we had no eggs, milk/dairy, soy, or sweet potatoes. Some time in there we added all melons to the list, too. We have crossed strawberries off the do-not-eat list, though. She loves them, too!

And we're still learning with her. This past month we realized some of her problems (digestive and skin) were caused by food dyes. Dyes that are often found in other stuff like lotions and soaps, too!
(We don't think she's allergic to the dyes, but she--like both her parents--is definitely sensitive to at least the blue dyes, if not more.) 

Here's more info on food dyes:
 http://family.go.com/parenting/pkg-school-age/article-797235-could-your-child-be-sensitive-to-red-food-dye---t/

We make a lot of our stuff from scratch. I have a bread machine that is almost always going, I made lotion, and homemade Fruit2Go snacks today, we are big time gardeners (she reacts to store-bought produce but not homegrown, I strongly suspect genetically modified foods are the culprit).

And we are constantly having to remind our family about allergies. 

Constantly. 

So much so that I bought a special shirt today. It says: "Don't Feed Me:" and has a checklist of things that a kid might be allergic to. 

(You can find the shirts here: http://dontfeedme.org/) And it has blanks for those "Not-Top-8" allergens to be added, like sweet potatoes, food dyes, and melons. She'll definitely be wearing it when we go places where there might be trouble. 

Because Food Allergies are not a joke, and are a serious issue for nearly 15 million people (9 million adults and 6 million children have some type of FA), I'm going to share a few facts about food allergies:


Some allergies (such as milk, eggs, soy) can lessen over the years, but peanut and tree nut, fish and shellfish allergies are generally ones a sufferer will have for life. And this 'lessening' is not guaranteed; the number of kids with these allergies after the age of five is growing.
The rate of allergies that are lessening are doing so at a pace far slower than in earlier generations. 
Allergies are rising. Between 1997 and 2007, (according to a CDC study released in 2008) food allergies rose 18%! Peanut allergies among kids tripled!
Visit FARE (Food Allergy Research & Education) for more
 information about food allergies by clicking poster above!While legally, the top eight food allergens (dairy, egg, wheat, soy, peanuts, tree nuts, fish and shellfish) must be listed on all food packages, warnings about trace amounts such as "May contain traces of...." & "Processed in a facility that manufactures products containing eggs, etc." are VOLUNTARY. Many companies do not list! And many FA sufferers will unknowingly be exposed. It has happened to us!
300,000 ambulance call outs each year deal with food allergy instances per year for kids under 18.(CDC) 
Even the smallest food particle can trigger a potentially fatal reaction. Cross contamination from hands, serving utensils, or carelessness can be a big issue for food allergy sufferers. 
Anaphylaxis can occur without noticeable skin symptoms (like hives, rash, or eczema). 
Anaphylaxis must be treated promptly or it can prove fatal. Epinephrine shots such as Epipens can buy a sufferer necessary time to get to the hospital, where further treatment may be required. Antihistamines such as Benadryl and Atarax (hydroxyzine) can also be used to treat milder reactions. 
Children with food allergies are up to 4 times as likely to have related conditions such as asthma.
There is no cure for food allergies at this time. Only maintenance and vigilence.
The rest of this week, I'll be having a post-a-day from fellow authors who've been touched with food allergies, either themselves or their children. They've agreed to stop by and help me celebrate Food Allergy Awareness Week, by sharing their experiences. 

Tomorrow will be USA Bestselling Author (and one of my closest friends) Kim Bowman! Kim co-authored A Lot Like a Lady and Something Like a Lady with Kay Springsteen. 

And also, don't forget to comment on any of the blog posts written this week for a chance to win daily (winners announced May 20th) for the Rachel Rocks! Blog Hop Party for author Rachel Van Dyken!
I'll be giving away up to SIX books a day, to celebrate Rachel's signing with one of the big sixxers! (She signed with the same publishing house that publishes Nicholas Sparks!)