GIRL ON THE VERGE BY PINTIP DUNN RELEASE WEEK BLITZ

Hello Readers! Welcome to the Release Week Blitz for

Girl on the Verge by Pintip Dunn!

Check out the excerpt below, and
be sure to enter the giveaway found at the end of the post!

 

Congratulations Pintip!!

 

 

 

From the author of The Darkest Lie comes a compelling, provocative story for fans of I Was Here and Vanishing Girls, about a high school senior straddling two worlds, unsure how she fits in either—and the journey of self-discovery that leads her to surprising truths.

In her small Kansas town, at her predominantly white school, Kanchana doesn’t look like anyone else. But at home, her Thai grandmother chides her for being too westernized. Only through the clothing Kan designs in secret can she find a way to fuse both cultures into something distinctly her own.

When her mother agrees to provide a home for a teenage girl named Shelly, Kan sees a chance to prove herself useful. Making Shelly feel comfortable is easy at first—her new friend is eager to please, embraces the family’s Thai traditions, and clearly looks up to Kan. Perhaps too much. Shelly seems to want everything Kanchana has, even the blond, blue-eyed boy she has a crush on. As Kan’s growing discomfort compels her to investigate Shelly’s past, she’s shocked to find how much it intersects with her own—and just how far Shelly will go to belong…

Girl on the Verge by Pintip Dunn
Publication Date: June 27, 2017
Publisher: Kensington

Google Drive | BAM | Chapters | Amazon | B&N | Kobo | TBD | iBooks

 

 

A fish swims beneath the open staircase in my Khun Yai’s house. A real live fish, with its translucent fins fluttering in the water, its belly gold-scaled and bloated from regular feedings. If I part my knees, I can catch long glimpses of its lazy swimming through the gap in the stairs.

Of course, I’m not supposed to part my knees. It’s not ladylike for a twelve-year-old girl, not here, not in Thailand. The land where my parents grew up; the place that’s supposed to be my home, too. That’s what the banner said, when my relatives came to pick us up at the airport. “Welcome home, Kanchana.”

Never mind that I only come to Thailand every couple years. Never mind that I don’t look like anyone else here, with my American build and my frizzy, out-of-control hair. Never mind that I don’t look like anyone in my hometown, either, since I’m the only Asian girl in school. Never mind that the only reason we’re here now is because my father’s dead and my mom can’t keep it together.

For a moment, pain lances through me, so sharp and severe that it might as well slice my heart in half, like in one of those video games my friends like to play. I squeeze my eyes shut, but that doesn’t keep the tears from spilling out. Neither do the glasses sliding down my nose. And so the tears drip down, down, down, past my unladylike knees, through the gap in the stairs, into the fish basin below.

The drops scare the fish, who swims away with its tail swishing in the water, no longer languid, no longer lazy. So, even this creature wants to get away from me—from my grief, from my strangeness—as quickly as possible.

“There you are, luk lak,” Khun Yai says in Thai, coming down the stairs. She is my mother’s mother, and since we arrived, she’s used the endearment—child that I love—more often than my name.

“You’re up early.” She pats her forehead with a handkerchief. It’s only seven a.m., and already sweat drenches my skin like I’ve taken a dip in the basin. No wonder they take two or three showers a day here.

“Couldn’t sleep. Jet lag.”

“I’ve been up for a couple hours myself.” She eases onto the step next to me, her knees pressed together, her legs folded demurely to one side.

Immediately, I try to rearrange my body to look like hers and then give up. My legs just don’t go that way.

“What do you want to do today?” Khun Yai asks. “More shopping?”

“Um, no thanks.” I make a face. “Didn’t you hear those salesgirls at Siam Square yesterday? They rushed up as soon as we entered and said they didn’t have anything in my size.” My cheeks still burn when I think about their haughty expressions.

She sighs. “The clothes there are just ridiculously small. We’ll go to the mall today. They should have something that will fit you.”

I stare at her diminutive frame and her chopstick legs. “One of the salesgirls asked how much I weighed. Another grabbed my arm and said I felt like a side pillow.”

“They didn’t mean any harm. It is just the Thai way to be blunt.” She catches my chin and tilts up my face. “You are so beautiful. I wish you could see that.”

I could say so many things. I could tell her that I’m ugly not only in Thailand but also in the United States. Even though I’m not big by American standards—far from it—I could confess how the boys call me Squinty. How those Thai salesgirls snickered at my poodle-fuzz hair. I could explain how I’m from two worlds but fit in neither.

But I don’t. Because my words will only make her sad, and there have been enough tears in our family.

 

 

 

 

Pintip is a New York Times bestselling author of YA fiction. She graduated from Harvard University, magna cum laude, with an A.B. in English Literature and Language. She received her J.D. at Yale Law School, where she was an editor of the YALE LAW JOURNAL.

Pintip’s first novel, FORGET TOMORROW won the RWA RITA® award for Best First Book. Her other novels include THE DARKEST LIE, REMEMBER YESTERDAY, and the novella, BEFORE TOMORROW. She is represented by literary agent Beth Miller of Writers House.

She lives with her husband and children in Maryland.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads

 

 

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New Markets

New Markets or How to Reach Readers Who Feel Left Out

We all know that the market is fickle and fluctuates all the time. For example, dystopian was huge just a couple of years ago but now agents will not touch it with a ten-foot pole. In the romance genre we are lucky because romance has been a steady market for as long as the genre has been around (don’t believe me? Shakespeare wrote romance and so did Austen and the Bronte sisters).

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It’s the sub-genres that fluctuate a lot. Right now it appears there is a huge market demand for cowboy romance (don’t look at me. The only thing I know about cowboys is that they herd cows, wear boots to bed, and you can never see their faces because of those damn Stetson hats), M/M romance (hot right now), and in the paranormal sub-genre, shifter romance (I’m not even sure I know what a shifter is. Will have to read on that).

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So what’s the real new markets out there? Something that has never before been explored because the publishers and agents were not interested? I was surprised and pleased all at once to find out that some of the big romance publishers are currently interested in later-life romance.

I sat through a panel hosted by Entangled, a small-going-big romance publisher, and was floored when they told us that the publishing house is opening a new imprint called August which will target romances for women who are anywhere between 30-50 years old.

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They want to see no stereotypes (divorcees looking for a husband) but strong women who have put off love in favor of careers, or for whatever other reasons, and stumble upon love late in life. They are asking for 45-60K word manuscripts and, according to the spokesperson, they are rather anxious to test the waters. Their reps at RT told us their market analysis shows there is a huge demand for these stories. So there you go. What are you waiting for? Get busy writing that story you’ve always wanted to write and prove that older women can still cut it in romantic pursuits.

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#ChickLitMay Book Boyfriend Blog Hop

VOTE FOR JEM–YOU KNOW YOU WANNA!

Hiya! I’m JEREMY PETER but please call me Jem. I’ve always hated my name. That is until my best friend–and love of my life–began calling me that to annoy me, lol. I don’t mind so much now because every time I hear it I’m reminded of her. I get this funny fluttering in my stomach and I’m lost. Love that woman!

But I digress. Why should you vote for me for CLC HQ’s Book Boyfriend 2017? Let me count the ways:

  • I’m good looking–in a boy-next-door, not-really-aware kind of way. Emily Rose claims that her favorite hobby is to run her fingers through my curls and stare into my ocean-blue eyes. You be the judge 😉
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JEREMY PETER

  • I’m not perfect, not even close. I messed up big with Em but I fessed up to it and will do anything to be forgiven. Even put my life on the line–or go to yoga with my love.
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Emily Rose (Em)

  • I will eat just about anything, so my sweet Em will never have to worry about cooking for me. I’ll be just as happy going through the drive-through at McDonald’s as eating a gourmet meal. I love food. Period!
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Celia (Em’s sister)

  • I always support my love to the best of my abilities, even if it means looking like Confucius in drag.
  • I have a great sense of humor. I can make light of any situation. Ask Emily Rose if you don’t believe me. I laughed my way to the hospital with life-threatening injuries.
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Marcy, the witch

  • I’m so the best choice for CLC HQ’s Book Boyfriend 2017! Even magic couldn’t keep me from loving and fighting for my Em.

Vote for me, JEREMY PETER!

You know it’s the right choice.

Print

To buy click here

Send your vote to:  traciebanister@gmail.com

To enter for the Grand Prize

Hop to all the blog stops, collect the candidate’s name at each stop, then submit all 30 names to the address above  in order to be entered in our Grand Prize giveaway. This giveaway includes a Kindle Paperwhite + 30 e-books, one from each of the authors participating in the hop. I will be giving away an e-copy of Loved You Always . Entries for the hop will be accepted until Sunday, May 21st at midnight E.D.T. A winner will be chosen on Monday, May 22nd. This Grand Prize giveaway is open internationally.

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Photo credits:

Picture of Parker Gregory by Mario Testino

Jessica Lu (photographer unknown)

“Celia”‘s picture by Pupulandia

Miss Pandora by Gardrop Kedisi

BLOG STOPS

Tracie Banister 

Becky Monson 

Hilary Grossman 

Glynis Astie  

Jayne Denker  

Jennie Marts  

Barbara Valentin  

Beth Labonte  

Victoria Cooke  

Holly Kerr  

Meredith Schorr 

Stacey Wiedower  

Laurie Baxter 

Jennifer Farwell  

Natalina Reis  

Celia Kennedy  

Beth Carter 

Ellyn Oaksmith 

BJ Knapp  

Lizzie Lamb  

Sylvia Ashby  

Karen M. Cox 

Lindsay Detwiler  

Kirsty McManus  

Melissa Baldwin 

Geralyn Corcillo 

Cassandra O’Leary 

Cat Lavoie 

Kate O’Keeffe  

Monique McDonell  

 

Wounded Love-New Release

WOUNDED LOVE by Marianne Rice
A Rocky Harbor Novel #3
Limitless Publishing
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Ten years ago, Ellie Fairfield left Rocky Harbor brokenhearted and pregnant…

Trying to take care of her son the best she can, the single mother returns to the town close to her heart to run a local inn. Ellie knows it will be tough moving back to Rocky Harbor, and that old memories will haunt her. But the last thing she expects to find on her doorstep is the man who abandoned her when she needed him the most.

Angry at the war, the world, and himself, Colton Riley’s homecoming isn’t a pleasant one…

Being medically discharged from the Marines is one of many disappointments Colton has suffered over the years. A decade ago, he lost a chunk of his heart when the love of his life betrayed him. A year ago he lost his leg. Now, half the man he once was, Colton tries to put back the pieces of his life by accepting a construction project at the local inn, but he didn’t count on finding Ellie standing on the front porch.

The more time they spend together, the more they realize the love they shared years ago hasn’t died…

Even though Ellie is still hurt and angry, she knows her heart belongs to Colton. It’s not easy letting go of the past, especially with the secret she’s hiding from everyone. But when an illness puts her little boy’s life in danger, she has no choice but to tell Colton the truth—a truth that threatens to destroy their love once and for all.

With a past spun together in a web of lies, will Colton and Ellie be able to mend their wounded love?

*** KINDLE *** PAPERBACK ***

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MEET THE AUTHOR: Marianne Rice writes contemporary romances set in small New England towns. Her heroes are big and strong, yet value family and humor, while her heroines are smart, sexy, sometimes a little bit sassy, and are often battling a strong internal conflict. Together, they deal with real life issues and always, always, find everlasting love. When she’s not writing, Marianne spends her time buying shoes, eating chocolate, chauffeuring her herd of children to their varying sporting events, and when there’s time, cuddling with her husband, a drink in one hand, a romance book in the other.

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Strawberry Kisses

 

STRAWBERRY KISSES

by Marianne Rice
A Rocky Harbor Novel #2
Limitless Publishing

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Rachael Riley is back home in Rocky Harbor, but she’s not the same woman she once was…

After being rescued from an abusive relationship, Rachael is a shadow of her true self. The only place she manages to find some degree of comfort is in the kitchen, hiding behind her apron as she continues to shut everyone out. Her foster sister knows the real Rachael has been broken, and reaches out by signing her up for self-defense classes, hoping to get her outgoing, confident, and nosy older sister back.

Jake Morgan has done his time and is finally free of his past…

Teaching self-defense is Jake’s way of giving back, compensating for what was taken away from him years ago. He’s well aware that most women in his class have a backstory, and avoids getting emotionally involved—until a beautiful, blue-eyed woman walks in. Jake is instantly drawn to Rachael and sees the inner confidence she tries to hide behind her blonde bangs and hunched shoulders.

Wanting to know the story hidden behind those blue eyes, Jake sets out to break down every barrier Rachael has built…

As he helps Rachael find the strength she’d lost, teaching her how to trust again, a secret from his past threatens to ruin the safety they have found in each other. There’s more connecting them than just their mutual attraction. Once their pasts finally collide, revealing a devastating truth, Jake’s commitment to Rachael is put to the ultimate test.

There is no guarantee when it comes to love, but sometimes all a broken heart needs to heal are sweet strawberry kisses…

** KINDLE ** PAPERBACK **

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MEET THE AUTHOR: Marianne Rice writes contemporary romances set in small New England towns. Her heroes are big and strong, yet value family and humor, while her heroines are smart, sexy, sometimes a little bit sassy, and are often battling a strong internal conflict. Together, they deal with real life issues and always, always, find everlasting love. When she’s not writing, Marianne spends her time buying shoes, eating chocolate, chauffeuring her herd of children to their varying sporting events, and when there’s time, cuddling with her husband, a drink in one hand, a romance book in the other.
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Germ Attack and Getting Old…

I’ve been hit by the bug. Not sure which bug but definitely a nasty, unwanted bug that has made me feel miserable for the past week and sent me back in my work load another couple weeks. Normally I write a lot when I’m sick but this particular germ brought a nasty headache with it. My brain feels as if someone has put my head in a vise for a few days. Four days of utter misery and a diet of meds. On the positive side I’ve lost weight. On the negative side I haven’t got anything accomplished. No grocery runs, no cleaning, no lesson plans, no yoga, no writing.

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I bring this lovely subject matter up because I have come to realize that getting old sucks big time. Let me explain. Three years ago I would have bounced back this thing, be back at work and go to exercise afterwards. I remember having minor surgery in the morning and going to work in the afternoon. I used to think my friends were “milking” it when they acted as if they were dead after a simple cold. I had done it all; surgeries, wisdom teeth extractions, colds, even an ulcer without having to barely take any time off work. Until about a year ago when I had another of my repeat-offender surgeries in the morning and decided gleefully to go to work in the afternoon. Big mistake! The difference one year made. Something changed. I thought I was going to die. As soon as the anesthesia began wearing off I was in hell. So sure I could bounce off it as I had done many times before, I had refused any pain medicine. I had never needed it before, why start now? Because apparently your body just had it, foolish woman! 

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Same with this cold. I’m not suffering from the flu or any major illness. It’s a freaking cold. And it is kicking my butt. Everything hurts from my head to my toes (and I mean that literally) and all I can gather energy to do is sleep. The simple act of getting dressed and driving to the store down the street to get meds left me exhausted. Is this what I can expect from now on? Is this what getting old feels like? Can someone get me off this ride please? It’s not fun anymore.

Front Porches & Funerals-New Release

Front Porches & Funerals

By:K.A. Ware & Cora Kenborn

Release Date: February 21st

Hosted By: Chance Promotions

Cover by: Bite Me Graphics

ADD TO YOUR TBR:   http://amzn.to/2mgFg6z


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Synopsis

 

They say you can’t go home again.

But when you’re broke, down on your luck, and wanted in two states…

It’s the only place left.

Adelaide spent high school dreaming of the day she’d lift a middle finger
to her small town life and watch it all fade away in the rear-view mirror.
After marrying a man who she thought was her prince charming, Adelaide had
finally gotten everything she ever wanted…until the silver spoon was ripped
from her mouth and her prince was revealed to be just another cheating
jackass. Suddenly homeless with nowhere else to turn, she must head back to
the one place she never thought she’d have to show her face again.

Savannah just wanted to see the world, but ended up a twenty-five year old
vagabond with nothing to show for her life but a string of loser
ex-boyfriends. Instead of saving the planet, she sells jewelry on the
internet and digs in the cushions for loose change. Making the decision to
cut her losses, Savannah packs up and hits the road. It’s time to go back
to the beginning and figure out where she went wrong.

Adelaide and Savannah couldn’t wait to leave the bayou. However, when
circumstances force them out of their self-imposed exiles, they have no
choice but to belly crawl back to the place they both turned their backs
on. The Dubois sisters find that sometimes you’ve got to uncover your roots
to find your future.

The good thing about hitting swamp bottom?

There’s only one way to go…

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ABOUT THE AUTHORS

K.A. Ware

K.A Ware is an indie author living in Portland, Oregon. Her days consist of
working at her real life job in the financial field and taking care of her
young daughter. Writing is not her only passion, K.A. also serves on the
Board of Directors for a local non-profit and spends way too much time
reading. She believes in the power of words, alpha females, and that
special escape you get when you hunker down into a good book.

When she’s not busy mothering, working, writing, or reading she enjoys
spending time with family and friends and embracing the weirdness that is
Portland. K.A. loves music, so if you find yourself at a metal show in
Portland —take a look around— she’s the crazy redhead head banging at the
front.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ authorkaware

Instagram: https// instagram.com/authorkaware

Facebook: https://facebook.com/ authorkaware/

Website: www.authorkaware.com

Email: authorkaware@gmail.com

Cora Kenborn

Cora Kenborn writes contemporary and romantic suspense novels with strong
heroines, complex alphas, harrowing danger, and snappy dialogue. She loves
delving into the twisted mind of a dark villain as well as giggling while
writing romcom banter.

Cora lives in Eastern North Carolina and is a true Southern girl, who grew
up on sweet tea, front porches, and the simple life. She says “y’all,”
“fixin’ to,” and should you deserve it will “bless your heart.” She’s the
proud mother of three hyperactive and occasionally adorable children, and
wife to an understanding husband who tolerates her chaotic writer’s cave.

Although reading is her passion, she can usually be found watching true
crime shows and crafting inspiration for twisted new tales. Cora admits to
being a horrible cook, an even worse baker, and believes she’s more
dangerous with a hot glue gun than any weapon on earth. Oh, and she and
autocorrect are mortal enemies

Website: https://www.corakenborn.com

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/corakenborn

Twitter:

https://www.twitter.com/corakenborn

Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/corakenbornauthor

Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15178303.Cora_Kenborn

Street Team:

https://www.facebook.com/groups/corasdarkangels

Reader Group

https://www.facebook.com/groups/monstersandrockstars

Newsletter: http://www.eepurl.com/b1xCtj

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From the Ashes of Hate

Caution: venting ahead.

I’ve been so disappointed with humanity lately. I woke up today feeling exhausted and felt even worse after listening to the news. Those of you who know me or follow me here and/or on Facebook know that I very rarely talk about politics, religion or sports (you may laugh about the last one but being married into a sports-fanatic family this is a no-no subject in our house). Being a woman of a certain age means I have been through many things the younger crowd can’t even imagine (now I really sound like my grandma).

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When I was ten my country went through a revolution. The fascist government that had been in power pretty much since royalty became a thing of the past was deposed after a military coup. For the next decade we lived and breathed politics—and what people who had been repressed for far too long thought meant freedom. The music we heard, the movies we watched, the shows on TV, the conversation at the coffee shop were all around politics.  It took a long time to go back to the regularly scheduled program of life in the global stage. I don’t want to go back to that.

I am tired of all the arguing and finger-pointing that has been going on for the past year. Worse, my heart breaks every time I watch news of violence in the name of ideologies that profess tolerance and peace. What the hell are we doing?

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I hear from friends who have “unfriended” friends and family members because they were on the “other side” (whatever the side may be), husbands and wives fighting over politics, hate spewing from people’s mouths no matter where you turn to. I’m tired. I feel cranky all the time. I go to yoga, find my peace but as soon as I leave the studio it hits me again, that anger that permeates the air of lately.

I thought we, humans, had evolved but it seems like we take one step forward only to take many more backwards. Freedom is our right, but let’s not forget what the definition of freedom is. I had to take a class on economy and politics when I was in college. I don’t remember much about it but there is one thing I will never forget; the way individual freedoms were defined. It goes like this: you’re free to do whatever up to the point when it begins infringing on somebody else’s freedom. That’s where it stops. I have lived by that tenet ever since. There’s been a lot of people stepping over that line these past few months.

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I have friends in both sides of the debate and it’s been painful to watch as one side attacks the other. And you want to know what the irony (and scariest) part of it all is? As someone who has never supported one side or the other exclusively and is an expert at observing (a major perk of being an introvert) I hear the almost exact complaints from either side. The left blames those on the right for the same things the right blames those on the left. It’s insane. It’s exhausting and serves absolutely no other purpose than creating an environment of anger and negative energy.

Yesterday, for the first time in a long while, I felt a glint of hope that we may yet be peaceful and rational people. From the ashes of what has been a troubling wave of hate and violence, something beautiful emerged. I’m so proud of what women across the country (and some males) managed to do yesterday (Jan 21). Crowds of thousands across the country marched in solidarity and peace to demand the respect we deserve as human beings. Ladies, I’m so proud of being a woman in the US today. Thanks you for protesting in peace. You give me hope.

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Note:  I didn’t make it to the March because of my fear of crowds (anxiety issues) but together with a few other women I celebrated the occasion at yoga by focusing on the fifth chakra (voice) and in solidarity with all my friends who were marching in a super crowded Washington D.C.

 

The Voices In My Head

One question I get asked often as soon as I mention that I’m a romance writer is, “Where do you get your ideas?” That is a much easier question to answer rather than the ubiquitous, “What’s your book about?” Almost all my stories have started as a picture. Yes, you heard correctly; a simple, inspiring picture.

My small group of women writers shares a Facebook page which we have used as a cyber writing-club. Our fierce leader posts three prompts every Monday. One of them is always a picture. Jenn is a professional photographer and has a great eye for good visuals. Her chosen pictures never cease to incite great ideas.

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Loved You Always started with one of those photos, a simple idea for a piece of flash fiction. By the time I was finished with the one-thousand odd word story I had fallen in love with my two main characters and I had to see their story through.

Those who follow my blog know I’m an incurable (and shameless) pantser. The few times in my life I’ve planned a story, I never really stuck to the plan. I find that my characters guide me as I write. In the words of the great Madeleine D’Engle, inspiration usually comes to me during work, not before it. So it was that while I’m writing this fun and sweet love story between two best friends a couple other equally lovable characters popped into my head.

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My sister is and always was my best friend and, even though she is not crazy and wild like Celia, she does have a tendency to believe in spells and magic. It was only natural she would be “reincarnated” in part as Emily Rose’s younger and irreverent sister.

Marcy, the witch, was supposed to be in just one scene, but by the time I finished writing it I was hooked. With her zany sense of style and comical wisdom she became irresistible to me. So much so, I’m seriously considering writing her own romance. I have to give Marcy her own happy-ever-after.

As I write my current WIP (another photo-inspired story) I’m reminded that the only thing that separates writers from the totally insane is the fact that writers know the voices in their heads are fictional while the mad…well, not so much.  I hope my voices keep talking to me for many years to come and that people are willing to listen to their stories.

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Predators Among Us

There has been a lot of talk about sexual assault; the kind that millions of women worldwide endure on a daily base and that leaves deep psychological scars. When this whole scandal with one of the presidential candidates came to surface many people (some women included) said things like, “Well, if this was true why is it just now coming up?” or “Why are all these women all of a sudden coming forward with these stories? Isn’t that suspicious?”

I am not endorsing one side or the other of the political arena, but I’m here to tell you that the reason why all these women are coming forward now is because once the first one had the courage (yes, it takes courage) to bring her story into the public eye it gave all others the motivation and the strength to do the same.

When you have been a victim of that kind of assault, no matter how minor, you go through many emotions. You’re embarrassed that this happened to you, you feel guilty sometimes because of comments you hear about similar cases, you’re afraid that no-one will believe you or even worse, that they will turn you from the victim to the one who was asking for it.

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I grew up in a very male-oriented country at a time when women had very limited opportunities. Back then only rich people drove cars to work. Driving to school was unheard of. You took the bus or the train, most of the time both. During rush hour the public transportation was standing-room only and we were crushed against each other like sardines in a can. It never failed. There was always the one guy (sometimes two) who decided this was the optimum setting to give free reign to their sexual desires. By the time I hopped out of the train or the bus, I had been groped and rubbed against just as matter-of-fact as if I was wearing a sign saying, “Please, use my body in any way you please.”

From the time I was thirteen I had to endure these not-so-subtle attacks and the odious cat-calls. They were not really cat-calls and they did not stop at “hey beautiful”, “hot mama”, or whistling. Most were very explicit in what the men who yelled them out would do to me should they ever catch me alone. Others felt compelled to comment on parts of my body that should never have been discussed by strangers, especially those who were old enough to be my grandfather in some cases.

One day as I am sitting on a bus commuting home from a long day at work, I dozed off. When I woke up I felt something warm between my legs. The young man sitting next to me had slid his hand on my crotch and even my death-gaze did not faze him. Why didn’t I tell the bus driver or the police? Because I guarantee you if I did, someone would say he was just being a young, red-blooded male and what did I expect when I was wearing such tight pants?

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I am a much older woman now and if you think these incidents are lost in memory you’d be very wrong. They live in my head as vivid and as painfully embarrassing and demeaning as the day they happened. They have left scars, some of which I may not even be aware of. It’s hard to speak about them (this post has been languishing in the draft folder for a while) without feeling shame.

Things have changed quite a bit since then, even in my country, but let’s face it, there are still many who either think this is acceptable behavior or that it’s just “play” and does not do any harm. Well, you are wrong! It’s time women stand together against this type of assault and for one, I admire and applaud those who were courageous enough to come forward. As a woman who “been there, done that”, I thank you.

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