Monday, September 16, 2019
Tasmanian Special Forces Group: Welcome to Hell
by C.R. Daems
Genre: SciFi Military Action
Jolie was three when she found she was ugly and deformed.
She was five when she found she was a sub-human and an outcast.
She was seven when five boys and two girls dragged her out of the orphanage and beat her unconscious, leaving her lying bleeding and broken in the street.
She was content to lie there and die, tired of being hated and abused. But a frail old man with wispy white hair and a long beard wasn't content to let her die. He not only saved her, but he adopted her and passed on his unique martial art to her.
She was twenty when she headed to Delphi, the center of the United Systems of Perileos (USP) and the planet of her birth-father to find her place in his society.
Based on her unique upbringing, she decides to join the USP military, requesting to be assigned to the Tasmanians SFG, an elite all male unit. The military brass is reluctant to deny her request and admit their enlistment contract permits bait-and-switch assignments. Instead, they agree to let her enter the school, thinking she couldn't possibly succeed–a Chihuahua competing against Rottweilers–and plan to make an example of her when she fails.
Although Jolie is small, she is not what she appears. But can her adopted father's art enable her to survive the treachery of the military brass, the grueling of the school, the prejudices of the instructors, and the testosterone of an all-male class?
And if she succeeds, can she thrive in the high-octane and all male environment of the Tasmanians?
Clem Daems is a native of Chicago, Illinois and a graduate of the University of Arizona. He served twenty-two years in the US Air Force. Since then, he has worked as a software engineer, course developer, and adjunct professor, teaching mathematics and Computer Science.
He has always been an avid reader of Science Fiction/Fantasy but never had an interest in writing or being an author. So, it was surprising when he began his first novel, several years after his retirement, at age seventy. His first novel, co-authored with Jeanne Tomlin, "The Talon of the Raptor Clan"--recently reissued as the "Talon of the Unnamed Goddess"--was a 2010 EPPIE finalist in Fiction/Fantasy.
Clem is an award winning author and an active member of the Science Fiction Writers of America.
His hobby--a life-long one--has been Kung Fu and Tai Chi. Clem is currently retired and living in Tucson, Arizona.
He would enjoy hearing from you at email@example.com on any topic: his books, the characters, writing with a co-author, Kung Fu, his website (http://clemd.home.comcast.net/~clemd/JC/Index.html), life after retirement, or...
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Dreams of a Fierce Heart
Genre: Paranormal/Contemporary/Sci-fi Romance
Publisher: Danube Adele Publishing
Date of Publication: 9/9/2019
Number of pages: 470
Word Count: 132, 843
Cover Artist: Evernightdesign – Elle Rossi
Tagline: She’ll do anything to redeem her honor, including putting herself in enemy hands; he’ll do anything to stop her
Some have called me impulsive, and maybe I was, much to my own detriment … at seventeen.
A social pariah in my own nation after being found in a fatally compromising position, I tucked tail and ran to Earth for study, work, and to heal my wounded heart. It took seven years for the opportunity at redemption, to earn my way back home, but it means infiltrating dangerous enemy territory. If the Brausa catch me, I might wish for a quick death.
My goals? I have two of them. Save my childhood friend, our Sunan leader’s last surviving daughter, and, get away from Nick Dylant. His deathbed promise to my older brother has him bulldozing into my life, making demands regarding my safety. He’s even found a way to force a marriage using some obscure, arcane law of old in order to protect me, but if he thinks he can force his will on me, he can think again. There is no way he’s going to control who I am or what I do in this world.
I don’t need his or anyone’s permission to steal away in the middle of the night with a disguise, a rough map, and an even rougher plan of action, because one thing is for certain: I refuse to join with anyone who sees me as a duty, not when I’ve loved Nick since I was a child. Not when I dream about his kisses and crave his touch.
Nick stared at me in silence for a few moments, his gray eyes roaming my face briefly, searching for something. Whatever he saw prompted him to say in an undertone, “You need a keeper.”
My voice sharply cracking the air between us, I snarled, “You had no right to run him off. You had no right to threaten him with a beating. I saw what you put into his mind. Who the hell do you think you are?”
The only hint that he heard what I said was a slight narrowing of his eyes for the briefest of seconds. Then he turned his attention to the drink Greg had bought for me as though it were tainted. He completely ignored my outburst. “You aren’t going to drink that.” He made it a blanket statement. Firm. Like he had the right to do that.
“Wanna bet? Who’s going to stop me?” I hadn’t planned to drink it, considering my allergy. That is, until he’d told me not to. For some reason, he had the ability to piss me off on sight and give me childish thoughts of violence. Like, how much fun would it be to throw the drink right in his face? Again, I envisioned the complete shocked surprise that would transform his expression, his stormy eyes wide, his brows and lashes dripping with the sugary, citrus cocktail.
“I’ll stop you.” Casually, he grabbed the drink and set it on the tray of a passing waitress who barely noticed.
Fury burned like fire in my gut, but I hid it behind a cold smile. “You think I can’t go buy a drink when I want one? I can walk myself over to the bar and order whatever the hell I want, Papa Bear. Last time I looked, I was an adult woman with her own money to spend. I’m not a gods damned child.”
There was no change of expression. The grim look that seemed permanently etched on his face remained, but I did note that a muscle twitched along his square jaw, the only sign that I was getting under his skin, which gave me a hit of satisfaction. Then his full lips thinned, compressed into a tight line before he bit out, “Why the hell are you bent on causing a problem?”“I’m not your problem. I’m not forcing you to stay. I didn’t ask you to do anything. You’re welcome to go finish your playdate with Ryder as far as I’m concerned. I didn’t invite you to sit at my table.” My own heart, acting like an innocent bystander, stuttered with dismay at my harsh words. It ached, squeezing painfully against my chest, but I needed to desensitize it. My heart was not in charge. It hadn’t been for years. If I was really going to move on, this had to be part of my therapy.
Nick stared at me in silence for a few moments, his gray eyes roaming my face briefly, searching for something. Whatever he saw prompted him to say in an undertone, “You need a keeper.”
“And if I did, it wouldn’t be you, Papa Bear.”
“Stop calling me that,” he snapped. “I’m not trying to father you.”
“The hell you aren’t. I’m having a perfectly nice time with a good guy, and you come stomping over and puff out your chest. You don’t have the right to tell anyone else whether I have plans for the night, and you sure as hell don’t have the right to threaten a guy with violence because he’s into me.”
“What does it matter? It’s not like you can date him. You don’t live near him.” He didn’t deny any of it. Wasn’t the least bit repentant.
I gave him my best, wicked smile, knowing this would thoroughly piss him off. “Maybe I just wanted to have sex with him. Sometimes, a girl needs a little skin-on-skin. Some body heat.”
His blue eyes turned glacial, flicking over the bodice of my dress where I’d grown more cleavage since my seventeenth year; his nostrils flared, and anger put a snarl to his words. “And we all know you aren’t shy about propositioning yourself.”
My smile never faltered when his poisonous dart hit the bullseye, but I had no control over the long-ago humiliation that washed my skin in violent, crimson shades, which he noted with a sudden frown, like he was about to take it back, but screw him. Throwing that in my face after all this time made my heart clench with a sense of betrayal. I kept my voice as light as I could, trying to brush it off. “That’s right. I did offer up panties to you long ago. I’d forgotten about that. How embarrassing, right? Because I’m like your sister.” I almost pulled it off but for the last word. My voice cracked, and the feeling of utter foolishness, something I was all too familiar with in relation to him, left me exposed.
Danube Adele wrote her first romance at the age of seven when she penned the story of her dogs falling in love and having puppies. She’s been dreaming up romantic tales ever since. A lifetime resident of southern California, she spends time playing at the beach, camping in Joshua Tree National Park, and hiking Mammoth Mountain. Always a lover of adventure, she and her husband took their sons on a cross country road trip to Florida and back in an old VW Westfalia, that had no A/C, in the month of July, and still, it continues to be the best trip they ever took. Extensive travel and trying new things has kept the creative spark alive. Danube lives with her biggest fans, her loving husband, amazing and wonderful identical twin sons, and a teddy bear of a Rottweiler.
You can find other books in the Dreamwalker series, Quicksilver Dreams #1, Dark Summer Dreams #2, Dreams of a Wild Heart #3, at www.danubeadele.com
Jim and Stephanie Kroepfl
Genre: Science Fiction
Jim and Stephanie Kroepfl
Genre: Science Fiction
Date of Publication: September 17, 2019
Number of pages: 293
Cover Artist: AM Design Studios
Tagline: Great minds don’t always think alike.
Seven of our country’s most gifted teens will become Nobels, hosts for the implantation of brilliant Mentor minds, in an effort to accelerate human progress.
But as the line between what’s possible and what’s right draws ever blurrier, the teens discover everything has a cost.
Scientists have created an evolved form of living known as Merged Consciousness, and sixteen-year-old Lake finds herself unable to merge with her Mentor.
Lake, the Nobel for Chemistry and Orfyn, the Nobel for Art, are two from among the inaugural class of Nobels, and with the best intent and motivation. But when Stryker, the Nobel for Peace, makes them question the motivation of the scientists behind the program, their world begins to unravel.
As the Nobels work to uncover the dark secrets of the program’s origins, everyone's a suspect and no one can be trusted, not even the other Nobels.
As the Mentors begin to take over the bodies and minds of the Nobels, Lake and Orfyn must find a way to regain control before they lose all semblance or memory of their former selves.
Mr. Blue points to the document. “Sign this and change your life. Or don’t. It’s up to you.”
“What happens if I say no?”
“The Darwin Corporation will remain your legal guardian, but you’ll lose the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to become one of humanity’s greatest hopes.”
So basically, he’s saying I’m stuck here either way. “Will I always be locked up?”
“That depends on your choices.”
I wait for him to crack a smile. He doesn’t.
I break eye contact and flip to the last page. There’s one short paragraph stating that I’ve read the forty-one-page document (which I haven’t), I understand the risks (which I don’t), and I buy into the idea that two minds are better than one (or something like that). At the bottom, there’s a line with my name printed below it.
“Is it dangerous?” I ask, really wishing my voice hadn’t cracked.
Mr. Blue hesitates, and for a moment he almost appears human. “Every medical procedure has its risks, but the end result could change the world. And you’ll be one of the few who have the ability to change it.”
What if I could become the next Michelangelo? I’ve been given the chance to create art that makes a difference. For now, and even hundreds of years to come. “What else can you tell me about Bat?”
“He’s very successful,” Mr. Blue says, taking a pen from his suit pocket. “And he’s dying.”
“Can you give me a little more than that?”
“He specifically chose you.”
Nobody has ever chosen me.
I grab Mr. Blue’s pen and sign the document using the name I’m adopting. If I’m going to share my brain with someone and become a ground-breaking artist, I’m doing it as Orfyn.
About the Authors:
Jim and Stephanie Kroepfl are a husband-and-wife team who write stories of mystery and adventure from their cabin in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. When they aren’t dodging moose, their story ideas appear during their walks with their dog, who far prefers chasing balls to plotting novels. Jim and Stephanie are world travelers who seek out crop circles, obscure historical sites and mysterious ruins.
Sunday, September 15, 2019
Last week Mommy, Auntie and Sissy were on the set for 3 days of a Christmas Lifetime movie that is going to be shown in December. This is all fake snow, it is actually very hot outside. They were on the set from all day. They used our towels and wreaths as well as Sissy and Mommy and Auntie in scenes.
The Illusion of a Girl
Genre: Young Adult, Thriller
Publisher: L. Werner Marketing
Date of Publication: 6/30/19
Number of pages: 258
Word Count: 61,000
Cover Artist: Vladimir Serov, Design – Teaberry Creative
Tagline: Stay Vigilant, Act Normal and Be Ready to Run.
Perception is king, especially in a small Ohio town. Jessie Taylor seems like a normal 15-year-old girl, but she’s an illusion of what people expect her to be: a good girl, a smart girl, and most importantly, a girl from a respectable family.
Her family may appear ordinary, even wholesome, but behind closed doors it’s an alcohol-soaked nightmare without reprieve. Jessie and her brother Brian, struggle bravely together as they fight to survive their violent father. Even the excitement of falling in love for the first time can’t seal the foundational cracks in her psyche.
As her home life worsens, Jessie mentally begins to bend and then break. No one foresees the girl Jessie becomes, the dark abilities she possesses or the vengeance she'll take. Based on a true story, the author grew up with an abusive alcoholic father and lived to share the tale. She hopes her story inspires others to move beyond their dysfunctional families and stop the cycle of abuse.
A few hours later, Mom’s hand on my shoulder and her soft voice woke me. “Will you go to the store with me? I would love some company.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
“I guess,” I grumbled. I moved Baby over and wearily got up from the floor. A quick glance at Brian confirmed he was still asleep. I cov¬ered Baby back up and headed to the bathroom.
Standing in the shower for a few minutes, I allowed the spray of water to soak my head and wake me up. I ran the soapy washcloth over my body, shampooed and conditioned my hair and got out.
As steam evaporated from the mirror, a girl with dark hair and a pained expression stared back at me. I didn’t recognize myself. My thoughts didn’t seem like they belonged to the girl in the mirror. Fear settled in my stomach like a large, cold stone. I knew it was me, but it didn’t feel like it. My thoughts existed outside of my physical body. With a trembling hand, I slowly dragged my fingers downward to blur the image. My scalp prickled as I backed away from the mirror and slid down the bathroom wall, still wrapped in my towel.
I desperately wanted this out-of-body feeling to go away. With my fingers pressed to my temples, I shivered and whispered, “3130 Brookhaven Drive. I live at 3130 Brookhaven Drive. My name is Jessie. I am Jessie.” I prayed repeating my name and address would put my brain back where it belonged.
“God, please make this feeling go away. Please God, make this feeling go away.” I wondered if this was what it felt like to lose your mind. My sanity would be the toll for the constant uncertainty and fear in my home.
“Jessie, how much longer ‘til you’re ready?” Mom asked outside the bathroom door.
Her voice broke me out of my panicked trance.
“Not long,” I answered. Slowly, I rose from the pink carpeted floor and got dressed. I pulled my still-wet hair into a ponytail. I kept my eyes glued to the floor. I was afraid my reflection in the mirror would kick off the disconnected feeling again.
I settled myself into the front seat of the car and buckled up. Mom glanced over at me.
“You okay?” she asked.
“No. Are you?” I glared back at her. Did she seriously think I would be okay? Frowning, I folded my arms across my stomach. Mom just sighed. She didn’t try to talk again. She knew I would quickly shut down her weak attempts.
As we drove to the store, I stared out the window at the passing scenery: our neighborhood with large maple trees, soft rolling hills, ranch-style homes and kids’ toys in almost every yard. The landscape shifted to flat land and brown corn fields once we drove a few miles out of our subdivision. In the summer, the fields were lush with tall, dark green corn stalks and moist earth, but now, in the fall, only dried, cut-down stalks remained. I rolled down the window and let the breeze soothe my brain.
Finally, retail stores appeared as we entered Stanton’s downtown. We arrived at the grocery store and quickly went through each aisle picking up our usual grocery items. I ambled through the aisles, not saying much, and mulled over the events of the morning.
In the cereal aisle, we ran into lavender-haired Mabel, one of the older ladies from church. I guessed she was in her early eighties. In fact, all the ladies near Mabel’s age had lavender hair. And why did they jingle with every step? Once you got old, were you assigned a bell to clip on your clothes and lavender hair dye?
“Hi Jan, Jessie, how are you?” Mabel greeted both of us.
I wanted to say, Hi Mabel, Dad punched Brian this morning and due to our constant abuse, I’m losing my mind. How about you?
“We’re good,” Mom said. “How are you?”
Her response prevented mine, which was probably a good thing.
Let’s all pretend everything is fine. They continued to chit-chat while I sauntered away under the pretense of cereal selection. To avoid any additional conversation, I stared intently at the various brands of Raisin Bran until Mom and Mabel stopped talking.
We finished shopping and headed to the parking lot. It was a windy fall day and my long ponytail whipped at my face as I loaded the grocer¬ies into the trunk. The warm wind washed over my skin like a caress. I loved the fall weather. It wasn’t too hot or too cold, but perfectly dry and sunny. As I loaded the last of the groceries into the trunk, the image of Brian’s face from this morning flashed in my head. It was the look of despair in his eyes. More than anything, I hated Dad for hurting Brian. I didn’t like it when Dad hurt Mom either, but it pissed me off that she kept him around when she could have sent him packing.
During our silent ride back home, I glared out the window and noticed nothing. All the while, my anger built. I hated Dad more for hitting Brian then me. I hated him for hitting me too, but it hurt me more if he hit Brian. As Mom slowly pulled into the garage, I couldn’t hold back any longer.About the Author:
LeeAnn Werner is a marketing consultant, blogger and author. Her book, The Illusion of a Girl, a young adult thriller, is based on her own childhood where she struggled to survive her violent alcoholic father. She hopes her story inspires others to move beyond their dysfunctional families and stop the cycle of abuse. LeeAnn holds a bachelor's degree from Bowling Green State University in Journalism. She lives in Illinois with her wonderful husband, three beautiful children and one super hyper dog.
You can check out her webpage and blog at www.illusionofagirl.com
Twitter - @LWerner27
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/illusionofagirl
Musings on Ordinary Magic and Daily Conjurings
Publisher: Moon Books
Release Date: October 26, 2018
Taglines: True magic is in the everyday.
Winner of the Pinnacle Book Achievement Award in the New Age Category for 2018
Finalist for the Body Mind Spirit Book Awards in the New Age Category for 2018
Official Selection for the New Apple Book Award for the New Age/Mind-Body-Spirit Category for 2018
Finalist for the National Indie Excellence Award in the Body Mind Spirit Category for 2018
Spellbinding meditations on conjuring your own bliss.
Everyday Enchantments is a love letter to the magic of everyday life, the sweet moments and the profound that we often overlook in our hurry to get from one place to the next. What if we had the power to unplug from our daily hustle and bustle and conjure a more profound way of living rooted in natural mysticism?
We do. All it takes is the whispered wish for more everyday enchantment breathed onto a dandelion head. This collection of essays reminds us to escape into the ordinary, find beauty in a simple cup of tea or rereading a beloved novel—and joyfully let our world turn upside down when synchronicity strikes in the form of wrong turns down forgotten lanes and unexpected midnight conversations with the moon.
This book is a study in what it means to live deliciously, joyfully, and magically. And it’s an invitation to conjure your own bliss—-because let’s face it: we could all use a little more magic in our lives.
ENCHANTMENT: A spell wrapped in a noun. Three syllables. One state of being.
To live with Enchantment is to see beyond the brick and mortar that make up your home and into the magic infused within its frame. It is made up of stories and dried bay leaves and dreams whispered into the heads of dandelions. Of bare feet on carpeted floors and the smell of burning sage. Crystals—amethyst, citrine, amazonite, smoky quartz—layers of your day-to-day and search for that elusive energy that winds its way up your spine and winding in and around your books; all the better to magnify their magic. It is to peel back the outward into your life. Let the snake at your base wriggle free of its coil to climb up to your shoulder blades and across your open back. There is no room for tightly stacked discs here, just the taste of joy when the sun licks your skin.
You might find it at the bottom of an empty teacup. Your future written in soggy leaves, or in the whisper of trees, their leaves rustling and murmuring secrets only they can understand. Sometimes they are kind enough to translate for you—if you listen long enough. If you shower their roots with distilled love songs and feed them the black earth from your compost. It’s there, too, when you run your tongue along the grooves and ridges of a well-loved sentence. It’s everywhere. Even in the spaces you think have lost hope, like the junk drawer where you keep your faded dreams, stray screws, and half-forgotten heartbreaks along with wine corks and a few rubber bands. They’re not lost, just resting like seeds in the earth before they are ready to break open.
That is the first syllable.
The second is to learn from Enchantment, to listen to Coyote's call when he plays his tricks. Coyote loves his tricks. And you should too. What delicious messages wrapped in matted fur and a lolling tongue! All he wants is for you to take that leap of faith when only you can see the soft earth on the other side of the cliff. Don’t you know that you have wings? They are just rusty from disuse. Just listen to Coyote’s long-winded stories (he does so admire himself) and watch the flick of his tail. All he asks is for you to trust him, even if he can’t be trusted; his les- son is real, hard as onyx in your palm, ephemeral as the desert rain that you feel in your bones when all you see is a cloudless sky. No weatherman can ever map the storms and sunshine work- ing their way across your body.
Coyote has no room for logic, just the reason in his unreason.
Just those perfect coincidences set in motion by the padding of his paws. You are raw power, he says, a spark of the universe set in motion. And you must trust this power that is you, that is the earth, that is the beating of your heart. A rhythmic tattoo forever pounding out your path, however many times you try to stray from it. All Enchantment asks is that you absorb the wisdom of the moon and the stars, and the prophesying of the seeds burrowed deep in the dirt. Coyote is there to make sure you listen, even when the rest of the world prefers your ears stopped with cotton and your heart beating as slow as melting snow in winter.
And the third syllable? To conjure. Here you weave your spell with vowels and consonants and beeswax candles. You seal them with pure starlight and a handful of chamomile. Then you burn away the dry brush and the brittle ideas that don’t hold up against the moonlight. There is no room here for literal…things or the people who think them. Not if you want to create. Not if you want to believe that the most important part of your everyday occurs in the moments others can too easily overlook. (Seldom can you find a person strong enough to brave the stillness or wade into the bottomless waters of imagination.) You make your life here, in the infinite potential of seconds and minutes and hours unfurling into vines and roots. Because when you are looking for everyday enchantment, it finds you. Always. And if you let it, it will settle inside your skin and feed your soul with dreams grown ripe under the sun’s caress. It drops you deep down into the rich earth and forgotten caves buried between heartbeats—places that many are too afraid to venture inside. For how can you absorb the marvelous, if you do not recognize it reflected in yourself, feel it settle in your bones like so much calcium?
That's Enchantment.A three-syllable spell wrapped in a noun, planted in the earth and nourished with moon- light. Let the roots stretch to the underworld and the leaves unfurl toward the heavens. Walk across the star-kissed bridge made of hollyhock seeds and strong will. There is your passage into the unseen universe.
About the Author:
Maria DeBlassie, Ph.D. is a native New Mexican mestiza blogger, award-winning writer, and educator living in the Land of Enchantment. Her first book, Everyday Enchantments, published through Moon Books, will be released in October of 2018. Her blogging life started as a year-long journey to write her back into happy, healthy, and whole through daily posts about life’s simple pleasures, everyday magic, and radical self-care. That year-long experiment turned into a lifestyle, a book, and her ongoing blog, Enchantment Learning & Living. She is forever looking for magic in her life and somehow always finding more than she thought was there. Find out more about Maria and conjuring everyday magic at www.mariadeblassie.com. And don’t forget to follow her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter for regular inspiration on magical living.
Reviews and Endorsements
An insightful collection of short writings that make you look at the everyday in a whole new light. ~ Erin Elliot, The Sword of Lumina
To build everyday bridges between the magick and the mundane out of the long-sought and hard-won materials of will and wonder is the act of a true Priestess. In this book, DeBlassie offers rich glimpses of daily rituals, miniature spells in their own right that prompt the reader to look for the quiet divinity in their own lives, to see the subtle majesty in their day-to-day routines, and to question their perceived barriers between the modern and the mystical. ~ Danielle Dulsky, author of Woman Most Wild
Maria DeBlassie has crafted magic within the pages of her new book, Everyday Enchantments. Her eloquent words offer the ‘promise of soul replenishment’ as one traverses the journey of her -and their- metaphorical metamorphosis. Page after page, readers will experience the soothing balm of DeBlassie’s words as they encourage one to open her heart, her mind, her ear, her thoughts and her soul to the unique transpersonal book they hold in their hands. Just as DeBlassie mentions early on in Everyday Enchantments when writing of the unexpected delight of discovering a double yolk, her heartfelt writing is like ‘cradling…gold’ in one’s hands. Reading and absorbing the beauty of Maria DeBlassie’s Everyday Enchantments will have readers conjuring their own magical life. Her words will caress their soul and embrace their heart with inspiration and encouragement. Everyday Enchantments blends together poetic consciousness such as from Maya Angelou and Mary Oliver all while weaving in powerful and deep inner wisdom such as from Clarissa Pinkola Estes. Yet, Maria DeBlassie beautifully stands out given the uniqueness of Everyday Enchantments. It’s a must read and a must to be gently and lovingly held in a sacred place of honor in one’s personal library. DeBlassie’s Everyday Enchantments is like a heart song that every woman should feel. ~ Janelle Alex, Ph.D.,The Writer’s Shaman
Reading this enchanted collection is so much more than reading a book…it’s an unearthing of things half-remembered and bringing them into the light. Gorgeous and luminous…thank you, Maria, for unwinding this spell for your readers. ~ Laura Bickle, critically-acclaimed author of Nine of Stars, Bewitching Book Tours
An insightful collection of short writings that make you look at the everyday in a whole new light. Ponder how different life could be if you stop taking everything for granted and find joy in the simplicity of it all. ~ Erin Elliott, author of The Sword of Lumina series, The Editing Hall