Maeve Greyson's Blog, page 20

I'm honored to have a very special guest today. I admire her talent as a gifted author but I admire her courage even more. Please join me in welcoming the uber-fierce and ultra-fantastic Mackenzie Crowne. She's got a very important message to share. 
Pink ribbons, get your pink ribbons here!
On October 4th, I reached the five year mark as a breast cancer survivor. Woot woot, bells and whistles. High fives! That’s right, I’ve reached that exciting milestone just in time for breast cancer awareness month; a month in which you can’t go anywhere without seeing pink ribbons.
Five years ago, I didn’t notice such things, or if I did, only on a very abstract level. Then I found a lump in my breast. That type of thing changes everything, including one’s perspective and their vision. Suddenly everywhere I looked were tiny pink omens of doom. The walls of the doctor’s office where I went to have the diagnostic mammogram were papered with them. The happy meal I bought my granddaughter sported a twist of pink at the bottom of the bag. And the grocery store, holy crap! It’s amazing how many companies slap those little suckers on their products. I mean, come on. Salt? Pink ribbons on a box of salt?
Five years later, I still have that box, and every time I look at it, I’m reminded of the horror of those long days in October as I waited to learn my fate. I realize the pink ribbon campaign raises millions of dollars for cancer research and that benefits all of us, but what about the woman who is waiting for a diagnosis right now? As they did to me, do those little ribbons stab at her soul, taunting her with what ifs?
Okay, I’m done with my little rant. The ribbons are here to stay, and they support an important cause, but my heart goes out to those women who are where I was five years ago. The reality for many of them will be devastating, and society’s heartfelt desire to help will only add fuel to a raging fire of fear.
Is there an answer to this dilemma? Not really, just as there are no answers as to how to take away the fear. But you can lesson it. It’s very easy for someone who is facing a life threatening disease to become overwhelmed by the diagnosis. Human nature being what it is, the diagnosis too often takes over the person’s life until nothing else exists. So, look around. Do you know someone who is facing this senseless disease, or for that matter, some other life changing event? If you do, don’t let them go through it alone. Don’t push it. After all, everyone needs to work out their fear in their own way, but a meal, an outing, or a simple hug can be a reminder that life is still there to be lived.
Be a friend. They and you will be glad you did.
And might I suggest you pick up a copy of my guide to navigating the breast cancer abyss, Where Would You Like Your Nipple? Then share it with them. Shameless plug, I know, but I’ve been where they are and my purpose for writing Nipple, after all, was to help ease some of the fear they are facing, and to assist their loved ones in understanding the trials of the battle.
Have a good one,
Mac
Buy links:  Digital copy - Amazon Print copy - Createspace
Mackenziecrowne.com Facebook Twitter

Faolan scrubbed his hands against the evening stubble of his chin.  “This is insanity!” he groaned.   His self-control ebbed away like the tides from the pull of the moon.  This golden-eyed seductress that had landed in his midst had to be some sort of trap.  He reeled and shook his fist in Maxwell’s face, just inches from his friend’s nose.  “Bed her?  Do ye really think by lying with the woman I’ll be able to get her out of my mind?”
Maxwell followed close behind Faolan as soon as he jerked back around to renew his pacing.  “Think about it, Faolan.  Ye’ve been attracted to fair maids before and once ye tasted them, ye easily set them aside.  It’s the wolf in ye, man!  Your thrill is in the hunt.  Ye always want what ye have yet to catch.”
At Maxwell’s observation, Faolan pulled up short.  He whirled back around where he found himself once more nose to nose with his adamant friend.  “Ye actually think if I relent and lie with Ciara and assert my rights as her husband; ye actually think I’ll be able to put her aside and go on with my life as though I never met her?”
With a shrug of his shoulders, Maxwell tossed his hands in the air.  “It’s either lie with the woman or don’t lie with the woman.  Which is it going to be?  So far, ye havena bedded the lass and ye already know ye’re miserable.  In my mind, ‘tis time to test the other option to see if it brings ye any better results.”
“I will kill ye if this doesna work,” Faolan growled, yanking open the door leading down from the battlements.
The Highlander’s Fury – available now from these places:
AMAZON      THE WILD ROSE PRESS    BARNES & NOBLE ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS

Monsters don’t just live in closets. Or in the movies. Or under the bed. Sometimes they look just like you and me. They even trick other unsuspecting adults into believing they’re wonderful people.
When these monsters prey on their children, they scar the child forever. They even distort something as simple as a child’s bedtime prayer into something dark and filled with desperation.
Now I lay me down to sleep:
If I stay real still with my eyes closed tight, maybe they’ll leave me alone for just a little longer. I wish my blanket hadn’t slipped away but I don’t dare pull it back over my shoulders. If they hear me move, they’ll know I’m awake.
I hear him. His steps sound heavy. He’s bringing the bucket of water and ice. It splashes on the floor as my bedroom door bangs open. I squeeze my eyes tighter shut. I can’t move. There’s no place to hide and it will only make him worse. The cold water makes me gasp. It hurts but not as bad as the sharp ice.
“Get out of bed,” he shouts. “We have to cut wood today. You’re going to help and you’re going to like it.” He whacks the bucket against the door facing as I slide across the wet floor. “Get this mess cleaned up before you come to the kitchen and don’t even think about telling your grandparents. They already know how lazy you are.”
I can’t wait for Monday. I get to go back to school.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep:
My parents said I was the worst thing that ever happened to them, the biggest disappointment of their lives. God won’t want my soul. I’m not good enough.
If I die before I wake:
Sometimes I think it would be better to die. At least that way, they can’t get me anymore. But the preacher said when we die; we all meet up in Heaven. They’re mean to me. I don’t want to see them when we’re all dead. The preacher’s eternity sounds like a long time for them to treat me bad.
I pray the Lord my soul to take:
No. I don’t want the Lord to take my soul. He can take them and just leave me someplace else. I’d rather be alone.

As the veil thins and magic fills the air, my soul renews and my spirit soars. Welcome back, lovely Fall. I've missed your crisp cool days and the colors you bring to my world.

Bless this pair of hearts so true.Make their troubles rare and few.Keep love and laughter in their days.Grant them joy in every way.What once was two join as one.Together eternal.Never undone.



September 22, 2012, our family will gain a very wonderful young man. Soul mates and true love aren't just in romance novels. ;-)

Next month, my oldest daughter marries the man of her dreams. He proposed to her last December. Since then, some very interesting bits of conversation have surfaced while we’ve traveled (survived) the path of planning for the big day. By the way, this child of mine is by nature the very detail oriented, almost obsessive compulsive organizer of all things. Yes. Wedding planning has propelled her strategizing to frightening new heights.
Conversation between just engaged future son-in-law (FSIL) and his mother:
FSIL:*bragging voice* “I don’t have to worry about her turning into some sort of bridezilla, Mom. You know how level-headed she is. Everything will be fine.”
FSIL’s Mom: *knowing smile toward her poor deluded son* “Whatever you say, dear. I just don’t think you realize how important this day is in a girl’s life. It’s a day they all dream about.”
Three days later FSIL calls his mom, whispering into the phone while hiding in a safe place.
FSIL: *panicked whisper* “Mom. We have wedding books. Lots of them.”
FSIL’s Mom: *stifled giggle* “Really?”
FSIL:“And binders. And magazines. And a folder with dates. And an appointment with a wedding planner.”
FSIL’s Mom: “That’s nice, honey.” *knowing chortle*
Conversation between daughter (Bride-to-Be or B2B) and her younger sister (Matron of Honor or MoH) and me (Me) during the FIRST wedding party dress fittings. (Yes. There is never just one fitting.):
B2B: *determined, chiding tone* “If you don’t suck it in, I’ll never get it zipped.”
MoH: *teeth clenched about to kill her sister tone* “It’s my freakin’ rib case. If I suck in more air, it’ll just get bigger!”
B2B: *exasperated huff* “Then blow it out and don’t breathe any more ‘til I tell you.”
MoH:No reply. Just looks at me in the mirror with a “you better do something or I’m going to be an only child” glare.
Me:“Maybe we need to try a different style?”
They didn’t kill each other and here’s an iPhone shot of the lovely Matron of Honor.Granddaughter is going to be a junior bride’s maid. As long as she got to twirl in front of all the “magic mirrors” as she called them, she was happy.
Conversation between daughter (B2B) and hubby (Father-of-the-bride or FOB):
B2B: *threatening I-have-been-pushed too far tone* “You are NOT wearing your kilt to my wedding!”
FOB: *amused that he’s miffed his daughter tone* “Why not?”
B2B:“It clashes with my colors.”
Me:I don’t say a word, just give Hubby the “look” signaling I have heard enough of him pestering B2B.
FOB: *resigned tone* “Fine. I’ll wear the damn tux.” *brighter tone* “But I’m wearing my kilt to the rehearsal dinner and the reception!”
B2B: *knows she doomed so dismisses him with a wave* “Fine.”
Conversation between B2B and myself.
B2B: *strained patient tone she always uses when she’s ready to launch into a lecture* “Mom. Have you found your dress yet?”
Me: *Living with hubby for thirty-three has ruined me. I can’t resist teasing her just a bit.* “I’ve decided I’m wearing nothing but my pearls.”
B2B:No reply just a stony stare.
Here’s the dress SHE picked out for me since I’m only an expert on jeans.
Conversation between B2B, MoH and myself in the shoe store.
B2B to me: “Here. These shoes will look great.”
Me:“I don’t want any heels. I’ll break my neck.”
B2B:“You can’t wear flats with that dress. Try these on.”
Me:“They hurt my feet.”
B2B:“Can you walk in them?”
Me: *sullen tone* “Yes.”
B2B:“Just wear them to the wedding and for a little while at the reception.”
MoH:“I like them.”
Me to MoH: “The wicked things are yours after September 22nd.”
MoH:“Sweet!”
Here’s the wicked shoes AND the comfortable pair I’ll be changing into once I’m given permission.

Most recent conversation (text messages) between myself and bridezilla…er…B2B:
Me:“How many days?”
B2B:“35.”
Me:“Holy crap!”
B2B:“I know! I’m about to hit ultimate freakout.”
Me:“Yes. We know.”
**Disclaimer: Bride-to-be is normally a very patient, loving soul. We all look forward to a return to her usual fun-loving personality once “demon planning bridezilla” is successfully exorcised on September 22nd. 

I’m so pleased to host the very talented Sandra Dailey at my cyber home today. And guess what? Sandra’s giving away a pdf copy of her new release, The Chief’s Proposal. So, don’t forget to leave a comment after you enjoy her post. I’ve decided Sandra is also a bit of a tease. She’s piqued my interest with a personal story that we’re going to have to wrangle out of her at some point in the future! Join me in welcoming Sandra and you’ll see what I mean. Welcome Sandra!
Thanks for hosting me on your blog today, Maeve. I can’t wait to meet your friends.
I’ll start by telling you all a little about myself.
I live in North Florida with my husband of thirty plus years. I’ve included a picture of a place just north of us called the Okeefenokee Swamp. It would be south of the area where The Chief’s Proposal takes place. I’ve had a list of careers in the past, but none have been as much fun as writing. Unlike most of my peers, I wasn’t born with the burning desire to write. What I was born with was a huge imagination.
One day a few years ago, I was confined to my house after surgery. I had just moved and my supply of unpacked books was thin. I finally found one I hadn’t read. I opened that book and it inspired me. Yes, it was the worst book I’d ever tried to read. I thought to myself that I could do better. I opened my computer and went to work. That first manuscript is still sitting in a box. Since then, I’ve taken a few writing classes and here I am. My new release, The Chief’s Proposal, is dear to my heart. Not only is it my debut, it’s also a marriage of convenience story. My own marriage began as ‘an agreement’. That’s a longer story then I have time to tell today. However, as I said above, we’ve now been married for over thirty years. I can’t imagine living with anyone else. I think my hero and heroine in The Chief’s Proposal feel the same now, but in the beginning they had a pretty rocky start.
Here’s an excerpt of my hero and heroines first morning after meeting:
Just as Ginny began to drift off, a loud clatter came from down the hall. It was followed by a stream of cusswords. Someone was breaking into the house. Could this night get any worse?
Ginny threw on the light robe she’d left on the end of the bed. She groped around in the dark for a weapon. She grabbed something solid from the dresser and slowly sneaked down the hall. The light was on in the kitchen. She flattened herself against the wall and peeked around the doorframe.
“You a coffee drinker?” Brett stood by the stove looking as gorgeous, and as formidable, as he had the night before.
“All the noise woke me up.”
Brett raised a brow. “Yeah, well, your hair dryer was a nice surprise at three o’clock this morning too.
Here’s another rule. No loud noises while I’m sleeping.”
“Sorry.”
“So, what’s with the duck?” he asked, nodding at her hand.
Ginny looked down to find she was holding a wooden decoy duck by the neck. So much for showing confidence and class.
The Chief’s Proposal has a few laughs and a little suspense and a lot of sexual tension.
You can find my book at:
The Wild Rose Press http://bit.ly/PSiSNRAmazon for Kindle http://amzn.to/MCNbDUBarnes & Noble http://bit.ly/RTDJ01
You can find me at:
www.sandradailey.comwww.sandradailey.blogspot.comwww.facebook.com/sandradailey.author 

Yep. You heard me right. EXCITING NEW READ ALERT! Allow me to introduce Linda Trout, a fresh new voice of Romantic Suspense with The Wild Rose Press.
I’m so glad you came to visit my little cyber home as one of the stops on your blog tour, Linda! By the way dear Readers, be sure and check out the other stops on Linda’s tour at her website:  http://www.lindatrout.com/  Leave a comment  at one or more of her blog stops because at the end of her tour, Linda’s giving away a digital copy of her new release GRAVE SECRETS!
Maeve, Thank you so much for having me! I love your website and the man candy, there’s nothing like a good looking man in a kilt. I write romantic suspense, but I’m not an RS snob. I love reading a lot of different genres and Scottish books are right up there.
The pictures of your Mystical Seven inspired me. I don’t have any dragons, but I do have a Gargoyle. Does that count?  Let me tell you a bit about myself. I grew up on a farm in northeastern Oklahoma. I’m a degreed accountant and wound up in the oil & gas industry. My husband is a retired Marine and has also retired from his civilian job. Thank goodness he supports me in my writing. We have 2 black Labrador Retrievers and 4 cats, who all think they have to help me write.
I’m a motorcycle mama. Yep, I love riding my own bike. I used to ride behind my hubby, but got tired of him asking me if I was done squirming yet. Uh, no. My butt hurt so I most decidedly was NOT done squirming! But it was incentive to learn how to ride my own. That and the first time we went to a motorcycle rally in Sturgis, SD, he kept staring at the women bikers…said he found them sexy. Well, all rightly, then. Here I am posing with my Duece, and yes, that’s a Harley.  However, when I’m riding I don’t look much like this, not with the leathers and horrible helmet hair. LOL
I’d thought of having my heroine in GRAVE SECRETS riding a bike, but it wasn’t happening. She’s a businessman’s widow who lives in the better part of town. Only she’d give it all up to have her husband and baby back. Her child disappeared the day of her husband’s funeral and she’s been searching for her daughter ever since. Here’s a blurb:
When Sara Adams' infant daughter is abducted, she moves heaven and earth to find her. But six months later, time is running out and Sara turns to the one man she shouldn't—insurance investigator Morgan Daniels. Dangerously attractive, he's a threat to more than just her heart, and if she isn't careful, he'll unearth secrets better left buried.

Proving Sara murdered her husband is Morgan's top priority. Helping her find her child is the perfect opportunity to get the proof he needs. But when he starts to think of her as a woman rather than a suspect, she slips under his armor. He can't trust her. Worse, he can't trust himself around her.

All evidence points to Sara as a murderer, but Morgan's gut tells him the evidence is wrong. Is his obsession with her blinding him to the facts? Or is the real murderer still out there…stalking Sara?

Maeve, thank you again for having me on your blog. Here are buy links to GRAVE SECRETS:

The Wild Rose Press: http://tinyurl.com/d4cxc7h

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Grave-Secrets-Linda-Trout/dp/1612173071/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1342970187&sr=8-1&keywords=grave+secrets+by+linda+trout

Allow me to introduce my Dragon Army or as I affectionately call them, The Mystical Seven. ;-) The newest recruit to join the ranks is Fury Infernicus Brimstone, a wishing dragon. Inside his chest beats a golden star that grants his chosen one all their dreams. Luckily for me, he's sworn his loyalty to me forever. This relaxed fellow is Blazerous Coaldun-Mistrach. An amiable soul who rarely rouses from his dreams but when provoked, reduces any irritant to a pile of cinders. Blazerous is also known as guardian of the writerly cave.  Smaller in scale but no less lethal, this feisty beast is Charconus Smee. A bit sensitive about his diminutive size, Charconus tends to sizzle first and ask questions later. His duties include guarding the sacred ink cartridges and ensuring all printer cables are not sabotaged by marauders.  Wee Poof makes up the junior ranks while he excitedly awaits the grand day when he's able to produce his first flame. He's unable to assume any major assignments at this time but serves the purpose of tattling to command whenever the other dragons shirk their duties. Yes. Poof is not favored among the senior ranks.  Raucous Firestrom is the founder of the army. As shown here, Raucous represents the core belief of the Mystical Seven: Never allow anyone to tell you you'll never make it. If you believe you can, you will.  Seamus Puck is an agreeable soul able to see across the web of time and either nod or shake his head to predict the outcome of any venture. And last but far from least is Virgilious Amoratio, better known as Virgil the Preener. He adores the ladies and never misses an opportunity to flaunt his colorful scales and belch sparkling flames.By the way, the troops asked me to pass along that they're always looking to increase the ranks. Gifted dragons are always welcome but snakes and lizards need not apply. 

The super talented Sabrina Garie gifted me with The Lucky 7 Meme. Be sure and visit her blog. I know you'll be glad you did. The challenge, should I so choose to accept, is to share some of my work in progress in RAW UNEDITED form *shudder*. I have the choice of sharing 7 lines down from the first 7 lines of the page from page 7 or 77. Then I send the Meme on to 7 other writers who I think you'll enjoy. Challenge accepted. These 7 lines come from page 7 of my current WIP that I haven't quite named just yet. It's a paranormal romance filled with passion, betrayal, sacrifice and hope. I hope you enjoy this taste:What a glorious feeling it would be to touch the steady pulse of Egrin’s inner draecon-kha –his dormant dragon form –waiting to be unleashed. Strength pulsed in her lord’s scarred lean form. Pure predatory grace shone in every fluid move. What she wouldn’t give to feel that force pounding into her during the throes of a mating embrace. Lilith wet her lips, suddenly breathless at the enticing prospect. Smoldering heat flooded her core, ready to burst with blazing passion at the slightest provocation. Damn Egrin’s refusal to name her consort of Fhearann-Saar until his precious spawn had been recovered. Now. The 7 LUCKY authors I select are:Victoria RobertsJ. Michael RadcliffeMarsha A. MooreTami DeeBeth TrisselVonnie DavisAJ NuestCheck these authors out. They're all fantastic. By the way, the Meme is an understanding soul for those unable to join in. Life's too short to sweat the little stuff. ;-)