Davee Jones's Blog, page 7

Tuesday Tales...What Makes Us an Us?

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.
A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image. This week, we write to an image.  This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary.

Enjoy






Could we pick things back up?  I wanted clear air, forgiveness established, you know?”“Of course, silly me, skipping ahead a few chapters, assuming too much. It’s not a party till Lola puts her foot in her mouth.” Shooting out in rapid fire succession, I couldn’t stop talking. Glumly, I realized, you really can’t put the toothpaste back into the tube.  “You’ve always worked best without a filter. I knew where I stood.” Marty smiled, patting my knee. His hands. Oh, his hands, working down the buttons on my blouse- slowly unlooping each catch of the button in the hole. Memories filled my fingertips with the desire to touch his bare chest. Move your hands up my knee, across my thigh, up my tummy, I wanted him more than a tonic laced with gin. Common sense kicked in, returning my voice. “I really need to get going.”Maybe he could sit with me right here and now, pretending our benefits never existed in friendship- I couldn’t. I loved this man, loved him hard. So hard I put him on the unattainable pedestal, a cherished, valuable diamond in the rough. Willing to look, not touching, for the sake of preserving his value. Keeping us frozen in time, our feelings sharp as ever, never fading. He could stay on my mantel, loving me the same, as I knew I would always love him.“Lola? You’re a thousand miles away.” Oh, shit, he saw me processing my good-bye. Think fast, lighten the mood. “Happy thoughts, reminiscing, you know?”“Aside from everything, many of my favorite memories include you.”“We’ll always have gelato.”“Grilled lemonade…”“Pho…”

“Food became the center of our lives, did we ever think about anything else?” Visits to our favorite café became more than routine, it made us an us.

Please visit us at our main site for more picture prompt interpretations Tuesday Tales Main Page

Meet Kerrianne Coombes! Author of The Demon Tales....Slip Into Another World

This weekend's guest blogger is Kerrianne Coombes!
Are you intrigued by a twist on the usual fairytale? Then, please read on for an exciting new book by my friend, Kerrianne. 
 
 
 
 
 
Deadly Slumber.Book 1 of The Demon Tales is now available!
 
 
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The best selling Demon Tales are BACK!!
 
Book one was previously book 5 of the original Demon Tale line up (This book will be the only re-release from the old series. The ones that will follow will be BRAND NEW stories with entirely new characters. All coming very soon xx)
 
 
 
 
 
Book 1
Deadly Slumber – Selma and Rhand
 
Selma is wasting away, starved of light, love and happiness. Locked in a human insane asylum, cursed. When she awakens the nightmares truly begin. She has given up all hope of escaping. Until a dark stranger, with frightening eyes, secrets her away in the night.
 
Alone, bitter and determined, Rhand searches for what was taken from him. Ruthless beyond measure, nothing and no one will get in the way of fulfilling his promise to his people. The Fey who lost it all… Until his search leads him to Selma.
 
Dark Magic, demonic lands and evil inhabit the world where he takes her, but nothing compares to the power of the love between the mercenary and his Sleeping Beauty.
 
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The Demon Tales have been a part of my life for so long. I have ‘met’ so many characters while planning this story, and the future books. I am ready now to start telling their stories. The original demon Tales stories will make their way back into publication over time, but I am focused on telling you NEW, FRESH Demon Tales.
I have re-released this book (Originally Sleeping Beauty and The Damned Demon, The Demon Tale) Because, I LOVE Selma and Rhand, and because within this book you get the chance to ‘meet’ some very important characters to the future Demon Tales.
 
This Tale is a lovely set up to my entire world. The characters within are strong, scarred and beautifully broken, but together they find a mutual reason to continue on striving for more.
 
Selma was so fantastic to write. She was so strong even through her long struggle, even managing to find a softer side to a male that made it hard to like.
Rhand, is a mess. Bitter, angry and alone, he literally does not believe what his heart is screaming at him to see.
 
When you read Deadly Slumber, I hope you fall in love in the same way I did with Rand and Selma. I hope you enjoy their journey and I look forward to taking you on many more journeys throughout the series.
For now, please enjoy Deadly Slumber.
 
You can Find Deadly Slumber by following these links ;
 
Amazon.com
Amazon.co.uk
All romance Ebooks
 
FOR ANYONE WHO LEAVES ME A COMMENT, I WILL SEND A PROMOTIONAL DEMON TALES MAGNET!!
I love to hear from readers, so please contact me anytime. You can find me by following these links xx
Facebook
My Blog 
 
 
About me.
Kerrianne Coombes is the youngest of three siblings. Born in England in 19 *Cough Cough*
Books became very important to her at a very early age. Having a book obsessed mum, made finding all the greats, like Emma and Pride and Prejudice–and, of course, Anne of Green Gables–natural for her to read. The entire idea of being whipped into a new world, a new life was greatly appealing to a little girl who had far too much imagination to know what to do with.
Being the kid with braces, frizzy hair and awkward laugh, Kerrianne found she could be who she wanted to be as soon as she picked up a book.
After leaving school, she worked with horses. Later, the lure of working in a dry, warm office yanked her away from the farms and the open air. But she never found a job that suited her as well.
Though writing was something Kerrianne only started seriously after she had her babies, she has always written little stories and little poems–these were written more as a therapy when she needed to clear her mind, and usually, they were written at the office when she was supposed to be doing something mundane.
“Writing was my procrastination when I worked in an office.”
When her youngest went to school, Kerrianne found that the stories were busting to get out, and that’s when she decided to dedicate more time to what was then, her hobby.
Fast forward seven years, and Kerrianne is usually found with a coffee in hand, her eyes glued to a computer screen, writing, editing or plotting.
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Tuesday Tales Going For Gold

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.
A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- gold.  This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary, Steal My Heart.

Enjoy!~








“None of these events give me an excuse. I made choices, now I live with the consequences. I started drinking again heavily. But, I’ve been sober for several weeks now. Unless life has something else to ass-rape me with, I have no more secrets.” Fuck, what about the LockHim Room? Wasn’t that a secret?

That didn’t friggin’ count.
“I didn’t tell you about…about Martin or Sharlyn. After I got to know you, and we became…intimate.” How the hell could I say it? I had no words, nothing articulate would spin off my tongue like golden cotton candy. “I loved you and I wanted to hold onto you for as long as I could. I was selfish.” Might as well go for the gold. “The times I spent with you were some of the best I ever had. You took me out of my miserable existence for snippets, like a vacation from being me.” This place was a jazz establishment. I wanted gin so badly I could taste the Bombay and smell the lime. My foot tapped rapidly.
I’d said enough.
“More than one person has told me you were a victim of my father’s…of any of those perverted pieces of filth. Personally, the word victim sounds harsh in everyday language, probably overused. Love is another overused word.”
Preparing for a righteous admonishment, my backbone stiffened.
“After I found those girls’ class rings, I knew something more horrible than me or my mom ever imagined went down at the hands of my father. Understanding the thought processes of someone emotionally stunted or immature wasn’t easy for me. I’ve never considered myself someone to be taken advantage of. I’d also never walked in the shoes of a young teenage girl searching for the Lord only knows what. After many hours of studying the minds of sociopaths, I understood much more about the type of person they prey on. I began to make correlations, connections between Martin’s attributes, habits, and thought processes. Piecing it all together, I finally realized you weren’t to blame. You had a lifetime of maturing to do, not making decisions with the experience of someone wiser, more in control. I have more empathy now that I’ve weeded through the heavy emotional baggage. I can say I forgive you, although I can’t say I’ll ever forget.”


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My Medicated Mid-Life Baltic Amber and Succinic Acid

My Medicated Mid-Life
Baltic Amber Beads
    

Scrolling through Facebook, as I waste many minutes of my life. I found something NOT wasteful of my time. A Facebook friend asked about Baltic amber beads for her teething baby. Now, I’d never heard of such a thing, and me being the curious sort, and this friend having some pretty cool ideas, I decided to do a little research.
Turns out, this Baltic amber could alleviate arthritis and carpal tunnel pain.
HMMM…really?
I found several sites to choose from, and finally settled on a website based in Dallas- my ‘hood. Baltic Essentials.Com “When you wear Baltic amber, and its primary substance, succinic acid, comes in contact with your skin, trace amounts of the oils are released and are absorbed into your body.  As Amber warms against your body the succinic acid is absorbed into your bloodstream which facilitates pain relief.”
This has my attention. I take enough meds that anything natural could offer welcomed additional relief. The main ingredient of Baltic amber, Succinic acid, has the possibility for a myriad of healing facilities. I found several websites discussing the value for its’ use. The popularity in Europe seems to be more substantial than within the US.
According to Way of the Wild Heart.  “Succinic acid is a powerful antioxidant shown to stimulate neural system recovery, eliminate free radicals and modulate the immune system. It is also used to discourage disruptions of the cardiac rhythm and to ease stress. Succinic acid helps restore strength and energy to the entire body, enhances brain function and so helps to improve awareness, concentration and reflexes.”1
Further, succinic acid may aid in reducing inflammation. “Inflammatory immune cells, when activated, display much the same metabolic profile as a glycolytic tumor cell. This involves a shift in metabolism known as the Warburg effect. Emerging evidence is now pointing to a role for the Warburg effect in the immune and inflammatory responses. The reprogramming of metabolic pathways in macrophages, dendritic cells, and T cells could have relevance in the pathogenesis of inflammatory and metabolic diseases and might provide novel therapeutic strategies. This has implications in the repair and regeneration of cells, inflammation, cancer and neurological disease.” 2
More to come as I research and possibly test this application.
Namaste

“Our bodies remind us it’s essential to keep moving.
And, yes, it does matter.” -Davee Jones

Tuesday Tales and Fasten Your Seat Belts

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.
A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- fasten.  This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary, Steal My Heart.

Enjoy!~



“I want to know about Lola.” Immediately my back teeth gritted into stress mode. How would I talk about my lover- her mother- with my sister? Somehow, the connection made me feel dirty. “Okay, I see that look on your face. Honestly, are you telling me you’ve never heard of a mother and daughter having sex with the same guy?”What the fuck? “Holy shit, Sharlyn, where are you going with this?”“Stop it, dammit, I’m just saying, I’ve heard before where one of them find a guy and sleeps with him. At some point later, the other one sleeps with him. That kind of thing, I’m not talking a tawdry threesome.”I would give her the benefit of the doubt and play along. “Maybe I’ve heard of this kind of crap.”“I want to get to know her, Lola, the woman who gave birth to me. Dear old dad kicked the bucket, totally fine with me. But, I do want to understand more about her. She wasn’t the bad guy, she was a screwed up teenager who actually did the right thing. Can you see that?”Did I know her well enough to unleash the sibling anger? Emotions processed within me faster than I could acknowledge them. “You don’t have the same history I have with Lola Fontaine.”Apparently, she was ready for an argument. “Look, don’t get pissy with me. I know your predicament.”“Predicament? Interesting way to put it. It’s just my heart ripped out of my chest and stomped on.” Good fucking grief, what was I – twelve?“Chill bro, easy, simmer down.”Bro? Did she just call me brother? “Don’t tell me what to do, sis.” The word, bro, fastened to me like hot tar, yet oddly less painful. “How’d that feel?”What the hell was she talking about? “You lost me. I got smeared in hot tar, and I'm waiting on the feathers.”“I liked saying bro out loud. It’s our first official brother sister fight.”Damn, she was right. “I like having you as a sis.” She could ruin this. “Please for the love of God, don’t say it’s because you’re like your mother. It’s so fucked up, it’s intriguing.”“What’s that kids show? Uncle Grandpa or something along those lines?”“Are you jamdamned serious?”“What the hells a jamdamned?”I brought Lola full well into this discussion, she wasn’t going anywhere. Like the atmosphere, Lola infused herself into almost every fucking part of my life. Next thing, she’d seep into my pores osmosis style. “It’s something Lola says a lot.”“See! These are the things I want to know.”
 Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of fasten Tuesday Tales Main Page


 

  
 

Movie Review - A Little Bit of Heaven - from 2011

Review How did I miss this one!?      

A Little Bit of Heaven
Wikipedia for Spoilers
It’s hard for me to watch movies about death. Maybe it’s my discomfort with the whole inevitability, my mid-life phase, and chronic illness twisting my emotions into denial. Our family lost a young father this summer, and the weight of sadness hasn’t lifted much for his young widow and their kiddos.
But, I’m gonna say, I like how this movie addresses the subject of death, and how it affects a young person.
Most critics hated this movie for the same reasons I loved it. You cannot put emotions into a box and expect every single person to react the same way in serious situations. There is no gold standard for receiving news of a terminal illness.
That’s why I appreciated the message this movie gives to the audience through to the end.
I cried like a big old baby for probably 30 of this productions’ 107 minutes. Almost half.
I don’t cry like I used to, but, this movie brought those emotions out into the sunlight, revealing my vulnerabilities and fears.
Yes, she’s a feisty, free-spirit…but many twenty/thirty somethings are. Until she finds out her time on earth is limited, and finally reveals to her just how important love is. Marley finally makes love a verb, and it’s touching, raw, and reminded me of feelings I’ve had in my audacious past. When life is reduced to sands in the hourglass…(no soap opera pun intended). Some folks rush to fulfill what others have a lifetime to achieve.
So, yes, attitudes and behavior change rapidly, it’s logical, not just scripted. Some people move to acceptance, and choose to finish their days in joy, rather than gloom.
The supporting cast includes names I’ve long enjoyed in other films. Kathy Bates embraces her role as Marley’s mother, and reminded me in some ways of my relationship with my own mom. In the end, we have more love than we can express.
I’ve loved This film is going in my stack of favorites. Although it was wrenching enough to me I cannot watch it often. I will watch it when I need reminding that it’s time to really live.
Thank you I’m giving this one **** 4 snowflakes.
 
 
 

My Medicated Mid-Life - That Needle is Going Where?

My Medicated Mid-Life
Growing up, nothing scared me more than needles…well, maybe Bigfoot, but, I saw way more needles than I saw Sasquatch.

After living with RA, fibromyalgia, and whatever else my autoimmune system decides to attack, pain became a greater fear. Well, maybe not a fear, but, it became dreaded and interfered with living my life.
So, after trying a few meds that didn’t work i.e. methotrexate, leflunomide, plaquenil…my rheumy and I discussed biologics. So, I started on Enbrel. Hoping for success to mimic a pro-golfer, I agreed and quickly I received my first prescription.
But, I had to inject myself…with a needle…to get the Enbrel.

Well, crap…
Now, at this point in my life and treatment, needles are a normal, routine part of existence for blood work, and flu shots, the occasional steroid boost to eliminate a nasty flare. I became accustomed to someone else administering the needle.
It was my turn, and it freaked me out.
Now, I’m not proud to say it, but, after this disease wracked my body, I stopped the intense workouts I’d been doing. I gained 30 pounds, ick, and became much more, ahem…fluffy.
However, my legs were still fairly muscled, and the thought of injecting into muscle made me sting all over and cringe with anxiety.
But, my mid-section was a nice fluffy, spongy accommodating place of fat cells, blanketing any abdominal muscle like a warm comforter in winter. This would be my target, a place of compliant receiving.
A shot in my stomach? Was I rabid?

(When I was a kid, a girl I knew was bitten by a rabid skunk when it chased her back into her own house. Yes, those shots are in the belly . And, wow, I still remember the nauseating thought I had when we discussed the horror on the playground.)
But, I digress.
Mentally preparing myself, I took the Enbrel out of the fridge to warm a little. Refrigerator cold increases the stinging for me. I went to my quiet bedroom, and made the decision to medicate. I could do this! I’ve had 3 children, done triathlons, smashed my fingers, donated blood, been on the receiving end of a riding crop…all things much more pain inflicting than this little shot.
Self-injector medications are wonderful. The needle comes encased in a plastic sheath, with a button click to get the injection successfully through the skin and the meds into the body. I cleaned the area on my fluff with an alcohol pad, and voila, I was ready.
One must read the instructions carefully. There are two caps to remove prior to dosing. Stretch the area taut, and let her rip.
Unfortunately, after about 3 mos of this self-torture, we decided the Enbrel wasn’t having any affect. I was also having surgeries and needed my body’s immune system a little more boosted. So, I stopped.
Fast forward…two weeks ago.
Surgeries over for the moment, and in need of something to alleviate this pain in my feet, hands, hip, and abdomen. My rheumy and I decided to give Humira a go.
So, still fluffy, I decided to continue the injections in my abdomen. I gotta say, it’s less painful than into my leg muscle, really it is. So, I recommend anyone on injection regimen to try the belly, if the meds you take can be injected into the abdomen.
The first dose, I wasn’t sure. But, I think I have a small glimmer of hope in a reduction of pain. So, I was actually looking forward to my second dose.
I prepped myself, but, in my rush, forgot to take the cap off the needle. I pressed the button and all that lovely Humira pooled in the cap.

Oh holy frick!
I called the Humira hotline, and they are an awesome support system. I explained what happened, and they’re gonna replace this dose for free!
Replace the dose for free.
So, if this happens to you, make sure to save the prescription box. They’ll need the Lot number and expiration date when you call in. You’ll need to call during regular business hours and give them your prescription information. But, all is not lost, and I don’t have to wait a month between doses. #relief
I have high hopes, like the little ant moving a rubber tree plant. Or, in my case, moving my body with less pain.

Namaste
“Our bodies remind us it’s essential to keep moving.
And, yes, it does matter.” -Davee Jones

Tuesday Tales and Crawling Into a Cozy Bed

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.
A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image. This week, we write to an image.  This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary.

Enjoy!~
 




“Lola dear, why don’t you come to my house for a few days? I’ll take care of you.”
Laverne fretted over Lola, arranging and rearranging the sheet on the bed.
“Mom, I appreciate you. I don’t think I’ve told you enough.” It was easy now to see how much Laverne loved me. She’d always wanted included, I was good at shutting her out for years. “I’ll come over for a night or two, will that satisfy you?”
A twinkle appeared followed by a full on face smile. “I’m so happy!”
“Tell me my bed isn’t covered in puzzles.” Okay, that was harsh. “You know what, never mind, I don’t care. I’ll push them off when it’s time to go to sleep.”
Walking around, heading toward the window, mom finally breached a boundary. “What about your friend that came with you here? Marty... I believe his name is.”
“Marty is a good friend.”
“I seem to catch a look showing he liked you more than that.”
“It’s complicated, which is probably an understatement.”
“I’ve got time, the nurses are still working on your discharge papers.”
“Marty is Sharlyn’s half-brother.” No more beating around the bush, I put it out there.
Mamma Laverne retracted her neck and head, some thinking hard pose. “Wow, baby girl, this makes much sense.”
“So, I love Marty, with all my heart. But, he knows, he was Sharlyn’s donor, and they are becoming friends. His father, the snaky pedophile I was involved with in high school is dead. I made sure of it.”
“You killed him?”
“No, Mamma, I didn’t kill him. I just beat his dead carcass with a chair. It felt really good too.”
“You truly inherited my way of taking care of business.”
Weights once again left my shoulders. Truth telling was indeed cathartic.






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My Medicated Mid-Life #teamHumira...maybe

My Medicated Mid-Life There’s nothing more humbling than taking a child’s pose in yoga. For real. I mean, taking a break in a yoga class seems like the wuss way out. But, today, I had to do just that. Take a child’s pose. My feet were cramping up something horrible during balance poses. My hamstrings stretched crankily, balking when I folded over.
FROM THIS  My eagle had landed. Pun intended. TO THISIn class, I was torn between feeling so much joy that I was there, at least doing what I could and crying because my body wasn’t cooperating. At moments, I felt like I was failing in a world I use to govern. A few years ago, I pushed myself, doing just a few more seconds in plank, running a few more minutes, lifting a stronger weight. Now, I’m lucky to sweat. I relish when I sweat.I’m ecstatic when I sweat.
I’ll repeat what I said last week:“I try to remind myself to perform at least gentle stretching exercises every day. Living with RA and fibromyalgia make body movements critical and necessary to well-being. Taking the time for a few stretches helps the ache the next day.”Yesterday, I took the cycling class and for about 25 minutes, I made my legs push forward. I pretended I was in control again, and not the pain leading the way. So, that was probably one reason my body griped, groaned, and stiffened when I tried to stretch and take the poses. Our bodies remind us it’s essential to keep moving. I’m hoping that getting back into a regular routine will lessen the stiffness and soreness I now experience. For now, it’s mind over matter.And, yes, it does matter.

Tueday Tales....Make the Call

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales. A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- write.  This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary- My Only Necessary.

Enjoy!~











“You’ve never danced before?” Lesley swayed in time with the music, her arms looped around my neck. “You’re very good.”

“I do some of my best thinking when I shift from side to side, you know, standing in a thinking man’s pose. I’ve done it for almost as long as I can remember.” Growing up, I stared at puzzles and equations for so long, sitting made my butt sore. Somehow staying mobile helped me process better.

“In your own charming way, you made even that sound romantic.”

“I shift my weight without picking up my feet much, so, I haven’t really stepped on your cute toes.”

“Did you call my toes cute?”

“I certainly did, although I’d hoped to keep such thoughts to myself.” I could probably count on two hands the number of times I’d said the word cutein my lifetime.

“You’re so handsome, I’m lucky to be your date tonight.”

“If you’re lucky, I’m absolutely fortunate, because there isn’t a girl here who holds a candle to you.”

“I just call you mine.” Shrugging her shoulders, the words fell from her lips like a rouge skydiver.

“I’ll consider that sweet, even though most of these girls are way too young for you.” She laughed the small Tinkerbell sound of delight becoming so comforting in my awareness.

“I didn’t mean here in this gymnasium, I meant here in this world.” I wasn’t exaggerating.

Lesley’s eyes opened wider, not letting the light in, but, sending her brightness out to me. When I spoke the truth about her unique brilliance, she replied in the most genuine of ways, by reacting. No one could fake what many consider to be a knee jerk. Reacting had gotten a bad rap in recent years by fad psychiatrists.

“I’ve never heard you adoring or flattering before.”

“I prefer to think of my words as anything else I put out into the world- my truth.”
 Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of write Tuesday Tales Main Page