HOPING FOR JOY on Sale on March 31, 2017

Don't miss out on this special deal! For one day only, HOPING FOR JOY will be available for only $0.99. Mark your calendars for March 31, 2017, and make sure you download a copy at http://a.co/hPApWvC

What I Did to Stop My Eye Twitch

The other day, my left eye started to twitch. This has happened to me many times in the course of my life. It's caused by stress and since it's been a stressful year, this problem isn't surprising. But it drives me crazy.

I put warm compresses on my eye. That only helped temporarily. I put warm and then cold compresses on it. Again, relief was short lived. I put eye drops in the eye and found somewhat longer relief, but the twitching returned.

I massaged my eye. That didn't do much good at all, but then I'm not much of a masseuse.

Finally, I decided to take a vacation--sort of. I opened up a book I wrote during another stressful time of my life, THE FIEND OF WHITE BUCK HALL. It is full of action, suspense, magic, paranormal feats, and sex. (For those of you who are horrified at that last activity, the two individuals engaging in sex are married. Within the bonds of marriage, sex is a good thing. Trust me on that.)

I unloaded the dishwasher, put in a small load of laundry, cooked a simple supper, rode my recumbent bike for thirty-one minutes, but for the most part I devoured the book in one fell swoop.

It felt good. My eye stopped twitching. Problem solved.

I highly recommend this book if you are undergoing stress in  your life and if your eye starts twitching.

The book wound up with an unfortunate cover, but I made a clever little book video which offers a more engaging look into the story. Enjoy.

You can find the book at http://a.co/0TAs1GL

Everyone Rides the Subway

MTA subway train station, NYC subway system is one of the oldest in the USA. Photo by George Hodan

Daughter #2 grew up in suburbia. One of her teachers in the local high school labeled  the institution as "white, country club, marshmallow high." Daughter #2 didn't realize how homogenous her hometown was until she moved to New York City. 

There she suddenly found that all her own insecurities didn't matter because the inhabitants are so wildly different from each other. People from all over the world live and work in the city. Everyone wears different styles of clothing and one cares or made disparaging remarks.

Living there over the years, Daughter #2 noticed how character and uniqueness is valued. There seemed to be more of a team spirit. 

During a visit home, she expounded on the reasons she believes the majority of the people in New York City are liberal Democrats who tend to be progressive. She believes it's because everyone rides the subway. Everyone. All races, all socio-economic groups, all religions, and all ages travel underneath the city in the subway. There are bums, school children, and weathly women. It becomes very clear in that situation that the Lord fashioned people with an amazing amount of variety--and that all of them need to get along with each other.

She claims that when you're stuck in a train car under the East River, it suddenly becomes quite evident about who is going to ruin your day. It could be an angry preacher who yells at everyone. There might be unfortunate people who are poor and sick and have no where else to go--and stink up the whole train.

If a musician hops aboard, there could be entertainment to enjoy. 

Yet, the travelers do watch out for one another. On one of her rides, she saw two young girls, about eight years of age, pushing an infant in a baby stroller. They did not have an adult with them. The infant was several months old. At once, all the other folks in that train car became vigilant. It was clear the young girls knew how to handle the stroller. They put the brakes on once they were inside the car and acted in a responsible manner. Still, the other passengers watched them anxiously. When they came to the next station, the girls released the brake and headed for the door. One of the men put his foot against the door to be sure it wouldn't close on them. It was a poignant scene. No one had talked to the young girls. No one had disturbed them. Yet, all eyes were focused on them. Everyone cared. Proving the majority of folks are good. 

Maybe what the rest of this country needs is a ride on a New York City subway car with it's every changing, endless array of the people God fashioned out of clay. We can learn to get along with each other. We are all the same inside.    

An Irish Blessing

The Irish have some very beautiful blessings. Yes, there are silly sayings and plenty of jokes for they are a witty bunch. However, of all the Irish blessings my favorite is the one the best man used as the toast at my brother's wedding.

May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields and,
Until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

Síochána.

Weighing Success

I spent the month of February pushing myself to write more words for the NJ Romance Writers 30,000 word challenge. I didn't get to 30,000. I wrote 24,433. I also had to help move my mother-in-law into an assisted living facility and get my daily radiation treatments. On top of all that, I got diverticulitis, which was extremely painful. However, I lost a few pounds--so there's always a bright spot.

Since I had signed up for the challenge, I reported how many words I wrote each day. This forced me into being accountable. No matter how tough things got, I had to write something. Most days, I did. I even brought my iPad to the ER and wrote while I was waiting for a CT scan. How's that for dedication?

While I didn't reach the top goal, I did add far more words to my manuscript than I had thought possible. Keeping track of the words really helps because sometimes it's difficult to measure success. Especially in writing. I can't see if I'm making much progress when I'm working on a book but counting the words or the pages everyday reminds me that I'm closer to my goal than I was yesterday. The act of writing a book is almost invisible--until it's bound up with a cover, a back blurb, and a price tag. Then it becomes real.

It is often difficult to measure success in other areas of life as well. When I recently saw a produce scale in our grocery store, it reminded me of the days when I was breastfeeding my daughter. The milk was practically invisible. It went directly from me to the baby. I could not tell how much nutrition she was getting. Of course, she did have wet and messy diapers, but I needed something more positive to prove all was well.

So once a week, when hubby and I went to the grocery store, we put the baby on the scale in the produce department. Fortunately, every week we noticed a significant weight gain. We were weighing success and it made us feel good to know there was progress because we could see it.

Weigh your success by keeping track. You are making progress.

Play

Daughter #2 came home for a visit this weekend. While she was here, she got out an old ancient glockenspiel and a melodica, which hubby purchased many, many years ago. Daughter #2 proceeded to record the sounds of both instruments, experimenting and blending the tracks together. The end result was something that sounded like mood music from a movie soundtrack. Spooky music. It was delightful.

Though I enjoyed time with my daughter, I've continued forging ahead with my writing, encouraged by the other intrepid writers of the NJ Romance Writers' Challenge. I'm hoping to hit 20,000 words tonight on my current project. With only eight days to go, I don't know if I'll hit 30,000 words, but I'm delighted with my progress.

It is amazing what you can do when you make up your mind to allow some time for creativity in your life. The dust is piling up, the floor needs washing, but I can do that next week and I will. Right now, I'm having fun and that's worth more than a spotless home.

I wish everyone allowed themselves to play. Coming home from work and watching a television show  is not the same as being creatively engaged. Even adults need to play. Some people have hobbies, and that's good. It's healthy. You can read about it here.

Have fun. Just do it.

Writing Challenge!

Yes, call me crazy, but I'm joining in on the challenge once more. I've got radiation treatments everyday and a mother-in-law in rehab, but I've found the best therapy in the world is getting into a book, piling up the pages, and living in my own little dream world--which is far more interesting than the actual world I live in.

There are cheerleaders on the team to spur all the participants to glory and no one is allowed to use the word "only." I've used the challenge in the past. I reached the goal of 30,000 words each time.

Wish me luck!

Watching Over Me

I sure hope my angel is watching over me and doesn't get distracted from that task. My life has been getting more and more complicated every day. In addition to going through my radiation treatments, hubby and I have now been faced with another huge problem because my mother-in-law wound up in the hospital with pneumonia a few weeks ago. She's been doing better in rehab, but we're due to talk to the social worker about what comes next for hubby's mom this week.

Despite all the biopsies, doctor visits, other tests, and surgery I've had from October onward, I've been making a valiant attempt to write PATRIOT'S COURAGE, but it's been moving slowly. I've signed up for the annual JerRoWriMo, the New Jersey Romance Writers' 30,000 word challenge to speed things up a bit. I need some cheerleaders to push me to the end of the story.

Of course, writing a book is always a giant leap of faith. I don't know if any publisher will want it once I've written it. I say this even though I've had seventeen books published so far. If I do get it published, there's no guarantee readers will buy it. Selling books in this day and age is an extremely impossible job. Pressed for time, I've bought ads on Facebook. Those haven't helped much--though if I didn't buy ads, nobody would see my news at all.

However, I will be giving away four free books on Valentine's Day. If you want to take a chance on getting one of them don't forget to sign up HERE. The book I'm giving away is PATRIOT'S PRIDE (the genuine PAPER edition), which is the sequel to PATRIOT'S HEART. If you haven't read PATRIOT'S HEART, you ought to download it now. It is only $0.99--a true bargain for a full-length book.

Grammarly

Where Old Appliances Go

I drive an aging Jeep. I love it even though it guzzles gas. It's a useful vehicle for hauling stuff, but it's especially comforting to drive in the snow. After the last snowstorm, I noticed the rear tire was very low. We stopped to put in air. The air didn't help. That was rather disconcerting.

Our local tire repair mechanic fixed the leak but said it was caused by the rusty rims and warned that the repair wouldn't last. He suggested a recycling facility which might have rims for the aging Jeep.

Hubby and I went to the recycling center. On one side of the street was a mountain of rusting metal appliances. On the other side of the street were stacks and stacks of flattened automobiles. In the old days, it would have been called a junkyard. Hubby loved it. I thought the entire complex had an post apocalyptic feel to it, loaded as it was with the refuse of our consumerist society.

We bought two rims for a very fair price. The rims came complete with busted tires. We loaded them into the back of the Jeep. Our tire repair mechanic replaced the rustiest rims of the Jeep with the newer rims. Now I'm ready for the next snowstorm.

Love Is A Decision

I'm a romance writer, so I know everything about love. Right?

Not exactly, but after forty years of marriage I think I've got the gist of it.

Before hubby and I were married, we went to an Engaged Encounter and a Pre-Cana class, either class would have fulfilled the requirement to be married in the Catholic church but we wanted to be super prepared. One phrase, repeated over and over at both classes, was "Love Is a Decision." I did not understand it at the time since I still had my rose-colored glasses firmly in place.

I understand it now.

There are plenty of articles and books with long, detailed explanations and instructions about how to manage your love life. There are many more self-help guides which claim to explain exactly what love is. 

I think 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 does a far better job of offering a thorough account of the intricacies of love.

I used one section of 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 as the basis of HOPING FOR JOY. It is the part that states love always hopes. My book, according to one reviewer, is a "Lovingly told romantic story of realigning life’s purpose and realizing we can’t and shouldn’t try to be in control of everything."

While you can't be in control of everything, you do have to work at love. My grandfather once told me that in a marriage each partner has to give fifty percent, but in truth sometimes one partner must give one hundred percent--but then the situation may swing around and the other partner has to put out one hundred percent. Sometimes, it's seventy-five percent to twenty-five percent. It all depends on the circumstances because life isn't easy and it's full of surprises--some aren't happy surprises either. 

Often one partner will discover they have a talent for handling certain situations in life that the other partner cannot. It might be something simple, such as guiding children with their homework. When our daughters were young, I helped them with most of their school assignments. However, once they moved on into higher math, I was no help at all and hubby took over that task. 

Rose-colored glasses don't last long. Love can last forever--but it does take work and self-sacrifice. It's worth it. Don't give up on love. Give it everything you've got.

Available at AMAZON!

The Books I Read in 2016

I post the images of the books I've read on Pinterest. Above are some of those from my reading of 2016, which are mostly romances but there are a few non-romance books as well. If a book is in an ebook format, I sometimes listen to it read on my iPad. That way I can do something else while the book is being read. (Multitasking!)

I rarely watch television since I prefer reading. The stories are much better in books and more varied.

How about you? What do you like to read?

Come On In the Water's Fine

Yesterday, the water temperature hovered around forty-seven degrees in Asbury Park. That didn't stop  the annual Polar Bear Plunge from taking place. Hubby and I enjoy watching the event, which is sponsored by the Sons of Ireland. While some people jump in and out very quickly, there are those who linger in the water. Many people dress in funny costumes, too. It's an interesting way to start the New Year!

Only $0.99 Each!

Click on the Amazon links below! 

KISS OF BLARNEY

FALLING IN LOVE

PRINCE OF THE MIST

The books are also available at Smashwords, Kobo, Barnes & Noble! 

The Dollhouse

The year I turned eight, I wanted a dollhouse for Christmas. In those days, dollhouses were made of painted pieces of sheet metal with hard plastic furniture. Still, the houses were grand two story affairs, not at all like the converted bungalow where I lived. 

On Christmas Eve, I went to bed hoping Santa wouldn't forget my dearest wish. Sometime during the night, I awoke to hear my father fussing as my mother assisted him in putting something together. I lay very quiet in my bed and realized my parents were following directions to put a dollhouse together. Until then, I assumed Santa Claus brought everything fully assembled. 

As I continued to listen to Mom and Dad hastily placing everything  under the tree, I came to the conclusion that there was no Santa Claus. I wasn't sad or terribly disappointed. It all seemed very logical, but the special joyous magic of Christmas vanished. In it's place was the knowledge that Mom and Dad--despite all their hardships--fashioned a miracle for their children, created out of love.

I grew up a lot that Christmas and though I didn't believe in Santa Claus anymore--I still believed in miracles--but most of all in the power of love.  

May the miracle of love surround you this Christmas and bring you a bright New Year.

The Foundation of Hope

HOPING FOR JOY is part of the "LOVE IS" series based on 1 Corinthians 13. This novella is set in New Jersey in one of the small seaside towns with an amusement park. The heroine is frustrated because her fiancé keeps putting off their wedding and she doubts his love. 

The hero has a valid reason for his inability to commit to a date. He is trying to save his sister's life and assist his ailing father in raising his sister's daughter. In other words, the hero has a ton of trouble, which only gets worse. His sister dies and while his faith in God was lackadaisical at best, he becomes firmly committed to the belief that there is no God. 

I know many people who go through terrible trials in life and come to the same conclusion. On the other hand, there are those--like myself--who cling to their faith despite the slings and arrows of fate. Faith is believing even though there is no proof. Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen. (Hebrews 11:1 NAB)

I cannot prove that God exists. Yet, I persist in my belief--even though I have lived through scary times--and if you read this blog on a regular basis you know about some of those. (Not all, but some.)

Everyone suffers through disappointments, failures, and loss. It is the human condition. There are those who tell me I am fortunate to have faith because it buoys me up through my difficulties. 

Yes, faith helps, but while it is a gift I still have to work at it. I must pray, go to church, read the Bible, and help others. Otherwise, my faith will falter. For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not from you; it is the gift of God; it is not from works, so no one may boast. (Ephesians 2:8-9 NAB)

HOPING FOR JOY is based on the truth that the foundation of hope is faith. If I didn't have faith, I wouldn't have hope. 

Read HOPING FOR JOY and let me know what you think. Find it at Amazon!

The Reviews Are In For THE COWBOY'S MIRACLE!

                ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️
The reviews are rolling in for THE COWBOY'S MIRACLE! Listed below are a few snippets from the Amazon reviews.           

"Who doesn't want to read about a rugged, God-fearing cowboy who comes for the damsel in distress!" 

"This is a fast read and a delightful one. Don't miss it."

"...the twists and turns of The Cowboy’s Miracle took me through the mad, sad, and glad standard for a super-duper book. And this one has it all!"

"The characters were complex and endearing...I thoroughly enjoyed this story! It’s one that I plan on reading over and over."

"The adventures of a cowboy with a past and a woman in need of saving is always a win."

"Love, suspense, and alpacas. A great Christmas read."

Warm up your holidays with a great adventure right now at 
https://www.amazon.com/Cowboys-Miracle-Christmas-Holiday-Extravaganza-ebook/dp/B07PRFBMMM

Ups and Downs

Hubby loves roller coaster rides. I do not. Life has enough ups and downs. While the ups are really wonderful, the downs can be hair-raising.

In October, the roller coaster of life gave me a new scare. I found a lump in one of my breasts. I didn't hesitate and called my gynecologist right away. After several mammograms and an ultrasound, a cyst was the probable cause of the lump. The cyst was aspirated. However, there were a few suspicious findings on the ultrasound and I went through biopsies as well. One biopsy showed I had an invasive ductal carcinoma, another biopsy diagnosed a ductal papilloma.

The biopsies were not easy to go through. Neither was the MRI guided biopsy. But my surgeon had planned to do a lumpectomy, and precision is important.  Markers were put inside my breast, and just before surgery, wires were inserted to the markers to guide the surgeon.

The surgery was the easy part. While all the removed tissues will be carefully examined, the surgeon was quite sure the lymph nodes were clear, which is as good as it gets. I will be receiving more treatment to eradicate the cancer.

The moral of this story is simple. Make regular breast self-exams part of your routine.

Release Day for THE COWBOY'S MIRACLE!

Here's a short excerpt from THE COWBOYS' MIRACLE. Enjoy!

     The door opened and Seth blinked in shock. A young woman with long, curly, coal-black hair and hazel eyes smiled at him.
     “You must be the vet.” She reached over to an oak coatrack and slipped into her jacket.
     “Yes, ma’am. I’m a veterinarian, but—”
     “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m terribly concerned about Harley.” She stepped onto the porch and closed the door.
      “Harley?”
      “ʻCall the vet,ʼ he said.” She laughed. “Of course, he didn’t say that exactly, but he meant it.” She hurried down the steps. “Come along. I know it’s the day after Thanksgiving, but our regular doctor is out of town—as is everyone else in the county it seems—and I had to do something. Harley was very insistent.”
     “Yes, ma’am, but where’s Mrs. Holmes?”
      “In the nursing home, as usual. I visited with her earlier and she’s doing fine, all things considered, but Harley’s the problem right now. He’s not himself. I’m so worried—”
     “Ma’am, is Harley Mr. Holmes?” He barely comprehended her. She spoke rapidly, without a breath between any of her words as he hobbled along in her wake.
     She halted for a moment and peered at him as if he possessed a substantial mental deficit. “Why, no. Harley is one of the alpacas. I believe I mentioned that detail when I left the message on the phone, though it is possible I forgot, I was—after all—a bit upset since no one would come out here and examine him. Mrs. Holmes loves the alpacas. I still bring them around to the nursing home on fine days and it cheers her more than you can imagine—calms her, too. Sometimes, she’s almost lucid when she touches their soft fleece.”
     His heart sank. Was his grandmother suffering from dementia? “Is Mr. Holmes here?”
     “Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t you hear? Dr. Holmes died three years ago.”
     Doctor? Seth swallowed. “He’s...he’s gone?”
     “Yes, a massive heart attack. It was so...sudden...” She took in a ragged breath before
continuing. “He was the mayor for some time and practically a celebrity in these parts, though it doesn’t take much to be famous in Greenburg. Was he your professor? So many of his former students drop by on occasion. He’s still remembered fondly by many of them.”
     “I went to college in Colorado. What did he teach?”
     “English. Oh, how he loved Shakespeare,” she exclaimed. “To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.”
     A cold chill slid up Seth’s spine. His father often used that quote—mostly because it invariably impressed folks. He realized he discovered a link, though tenuous, but at least one thing made sense.

Download a sample to read more or buy it now at

AMAZON, BARNES & NOBLE, KOBO, SMASHWORDS, and iBOOKs!

The HEA...

A romance must have a happy-ever-after ending—known as the HEA among romance writers. Romance authors sometimes write those HEAs even when their own lives are in turmoil. It would be interesting to conduct a survey to discover how many authors have written some of their more successful books during times of crisis.

Many years ago this particular topic came up as a question at an NJRW meeting and I spent some time thinking about it afterward. I’m guessing that the majority of romance writers are idealists. I know I am—but coincidently I am also a realist. I am very much aware of life's ups and downs. Though the sun may be shining in my life today, a cloud is surely looming on the horizon.

Life is like that for everyone and there is no escaping it. However, when the going gets tough nothing cheers me up as much as sitting down for a little while and working on a story—a story where despite difficulties, the hero and heroine wind up as perfect for each other and everything is rosy--not that I don't create a considerable amount of havoc for my beleagued protagonists. They do have some big problems to solve. Yet, they will succeed. I make up my own wonderful little world and—in my mind at least—erase some of the gloom and doom of the real world.

I think this is better than drugs or other self-destructive behaviors. Obviously, if someone has a serious problem with depression, they should get professional help. But if you’ve been following along on this blog and you read between the lines you know there have been a host of disruptions in my life. If you're a friend of mine on Facebook, you are privy to more details.

Still, I never stop writing—except for a day or two when I truly don't have a single moment to spare. Most days I write even if I’m not feeling particularly happy, or romantic for that matter. My hero and heroine are going to get their HEA, no matter what. If something good is happening in my characters’ lives, I feel better.

It’s as simple as that.

Irene for President

Yesterday would have been my mother's ninty-fifth birthday. Irene would have made a great US President. This is a photo of her at her high school graduation. She had red hair and brown eyes. She was the daughter of a coal miner who had come to this country in his teens from a town near Prague, which was part of the Austrian Hungarian Empire at the time. Her mother came to this country as an infant. Irene was the second of their seven children--and their second daughter.

She supported herself while going to art school. When World War II broke out, she joined the Marines. Eventually, she came to New Jersey where she met my father.

She was compassionate and helped others less fortunate on a regular basis. She lived her Christian values. She was always willing to listen to other people's troubles and offer them helpful advice. She raised four children to be good citizens and encouraged them to go for higher education, which they all did.

When needed, she took on odd jobs to help out with family finances, but for the most part she managed to put good food on the table despite the income my father brought home as a journalist. The budget was always balanced and my parents were not in debt.

And Mom saw the beauty in this world. She painted and sketched--so that others could see the beauty in this world, too.

She was an extraordinary woman. Given the chance, she could have been anything--a lawyer, a diplomat, a senator, a governor, or the leader of our country. She knew what needed to be done and she did it. Always.

There are plenty of women today who would make excellent leaders of our country. They know how to balance the books. They know how to be diplomatic. They know how to be strong.

They just don't have a lot of money.

Unfortunately, this country is run by billionaires but it's the hard workers like my mother who would do a much better job at it.

Next time vote for someone like Irene.