Plants, Birds, and Beavers Grow and Change

Daddy, why is Fido getting old?

Mommy, why can’t I stay a kid forever?

Sometimes kids ask questions that can catch you off guard. Having a talk about the necessity of change and the circle of life can be difficult. That’s why I’ve written my Changes duet, to help open up little minds to understanding the nature of change.

Meant for educational purposes, but still, an enjoyable light and colorful read, Plants and Animals Change Over Time, explains the circle of life in the simplest terms. It follows the life of a seedling and an unhatched egg to full maturity and beyond. You may also want to check out, Land Changes Over Time, to learn how the world is reshaped around us.

Daddy, what is change anyway?

Mommy, does change have to happen to me?

Sometimes kids ask questions that can catch you off guard. Having a talk about the necessity and inevitability of change can be difficult. That’s why I’ve written my Changes duet, to help open up little minds to understanding the nature of change.

Meant for educational purposes, but still an enjoyable light and colorful read, Land Changes Over Time, explores how the world is reshaped around us. It chronicles the results of beavers, worms, and birds moving into an empty meadow. You may also want to check out, Plants and Animals Change Over Time, to learn about the circle of life. 

Plants and Animals Change Over Time Purchase Book Here

Land Changes Over Time Purchase Book Here

Find out more about me, my work, and my inspiration at the following links:

Amazon | Goodreads | The ToiBox of Words | YouTube | See a list of my other posts here.

Recipe for the Inner Child

RECIPE FOR THE INNER CHILD:

CLOUD ANIMALS, TEA PARTIES AND HULAS

Christina Weigand

Several years ago I wrote this article when my youngest daughter was on her way to pre-kindergarten. Now I have an eighteen year old ready to head off to college. With little time to write a new article and an opportunity to reminisce I found this post. With the impending onslaught of family and celebrations I thought it was a good time to remember the message in this post.

A funny, wonderful thing has been surreptitiously happening to me this summer.  I have been rediscovering my inner child, with the help of a four year old and a two year old.  When you have Ana and Andi in your life it becomes impossible to ignore your inner child.  So with God by my side, this summer has become the summer of release for my inner child.

It started innocently enough one early summer evening, while trying to rest from a days hectic activities.  I was craving some hard won privacy.  With so many people living in my house including a 24 year old, 21 year old, 4 year old and 2 year old, besides my husband and I, privacy is a rare commodity.  Before the birth of my four year old we had been on the verge of having an empty nest.  I was almost finished with raising my first three children, graduated from college, and my husband and I were still young and enjoying the freedom that comes with having grown children.

Image by Rudy and Peter Skitterians from Pixabay 

 

So now I am laying her in the early evening sun, trying to relax and recover from a hectic day.  Meeting the needs of my two year old granddaughter and four and 21 year old daughters has left me little time for anything including prayer.  Finally I have a few minutes of peace, although I’m not completely alone.  Nearby, two year old, Andi plays in her playhouse.  Soon she wanders off to find her mother.  I breathe a deep sigh, “At last, I am alone.”  The television show in the family room ends and I hear footsteps heading toward the door.  So much for my peace.  Ana, my four year old daughter, comes bursting through the screen door and jumps into my chaise lounge.  “Mommy, look there are clouds in the sky.  I see animals.”  Reluctantly I open one eye.  I don’t see any animals.

“Mommy, look.  There’s a tiger.  No, it’s an elephant.”

My other eye opens.  I still see only white puffy clouds.  Ana pops up and heads off to play with something else and I close my eyes again.

 Ana wanted to look at clouds.  I had let the chance get away.  I had become so self absorbed in recovering from the adult issues of the day and I had refused to let my inner child come out and play with Ana.  During the last 20 years of my life I had fallen easily into the pattern of being an adult and bottling up my inner child, because I had no small children in my life.  I did what comes naturally as your children grow up.  I had grown up along with the kids.  Even when Ana was a newborn I struggled with my inner child.  I was still dealing with the issues of my older children and ensuring that my newborn was healthy and happy, the inner child stayed locked up.

Now that Ana is a little older and Andi is moving into the curious years, my inner child has stepped up the battle.  So as Ana walked away on that summer evening, I opened both of my eyes and looked to the clouds and ended up finding an elephant or two in the clouds.

It’s 10:00 p.m.  Ana should be in bed.  She has a cold and got up early for school this morning.  The uptight adult is talking here.

Image by Janice Brown from Pixabay 

“Quiet, get back, down, down!”  Ana wants to have a tea party.  We have hot soup, spaghetti and chili.  Then we put on an Easter hat and Hawaiian lei and do the hula.  My inner child is happy and Ana is happy.  Plenty of time tomorrow for the uptight adult.  Tonight the inner child will play.

Image by skeeze from Pixabay 

  The whole summer went like this, when I least expected it and needed it most Ana or Andi, would gently awaken the inner child and ask her to come out and play.  There would be tickle fights, cloud watching, tea parties and seeing everyday things through new eyes, where fluffy white clouds become dragons and castles, blankets become tents or ball gowns and mixing bowls become crowns.

Image by Iris Hamelmann from Pixabay 

With the start of fall and pre-kindergarten, I feared losing the magic.  Not so with Ana and Andi.  The new season has only supplied more inspiration to feed the magic.  Last week Ana and I went on a field trip to a local apple orchard.  While there I learned a few things about apples I had never known.  Of course Ana was in heaven as this was a whole new experience for her.  Walking through the gift shop, market and green house, the world became a giant playground.  The toys along with the other merchandise in the gift shop tickled her fancy.  The different animals around the farmyard fed her vivid imagination, especially the very large pig.  Questions like, did he walk and how did he walk on those little legs sprang from her hungry little mind.  Choosing apples and vegetables from the market was an adventure and choosing the right colored mums from the greenhouse bordered on overload, there were so many to choose from.  The word “WOW”, a most wondrous word, was heard coming from her mouth at least a hundred times.  With every new sight it was uttered.

Image by pixel2013 from Pixabay 

Another thing we have taken to doing about once a week since school started, is stopping in a local park on our way home from school and visiting the ducks.  Ana loves to run around the island and see what the ducks are doing.  Today when we stopped we got two bonuses.  The first was a couple men fishing on the island.  It was difficult to contain her excitement and to explain being quiet and patient so the gentlemen could fish.  Once we got past them and found the ducks we got to be observers to the mating ritual of ducks.  The squawking, diving and preening of the male ducks was fascinating to watch.  To Ana the ducks were playing and she wanted to know what they were saying and doing.  Little did she know that what she observed today will lead to the new baby ducks we will see next spring.

With autumn upon us and winter quickly approaching Ana, Andi and I will need to find new outlets for our imaginations, but I’m sure God will continue to provide them for us as Ana and Andi discover His big, wonderful world.

Ana and Andi have taught me and continue daily to remind me what a wonderful precious world God created.  I now look at God’s world through a child’s eyes.  Suddenly the newness and excitement has once again made an appearance in my perceptions.

Jesus tells us, “Let the little children come to me.  Do not shut them off.  The reign of God belongs to such as these.  Trust me when I tell you that whoever does not accept the kingdom of God as a child will not enter into it.” (Luke 18: 16-17, NAB)

It seems to me, all adults need to release their inner children.  The world becomes a much more special place when seen with the eyes of a child. I am so thankful to have Ana and Andi in my life and I feel honored that God has chosen me to share their lives.  So my inner child has escaped and I see the world through new eyes.  Thank you God, and pumpkins, turkeys and snowballs here we come.

Image by annca from Pixabay

The Parrot Who Didn't Speak English

Because he spoke only Spanish

Bilingual children's book for ages 4-12

Pico, the parrot, is sad and frustrated. He screeches and squawks all day but because he speaks Spanish, nobody understands him. His story teaches children acceptance, compassion, and helping others.

PREVIEW:

http://online.pubhtml5.com/ahsh/muta/

EBOOK:

https://books2read.com/u/mdKQdW

Amazon print:

http://tinyurl.com/ydcf7w5r

B&N print:

http://tinyurl.com/y8qgpkqm

More books by Erika M Szabo for children and parents

Travel and writing: a tight bond in the Trilogy Deadly Deception

By P. J. Mann

The trilogy Deadly Deception that has been finally released as a whole is set mainly in Boston and Tbilisi, with some short stops in Africa described in the first book of the series.

In my life, writing and traveling are very closely connected together. 

Traveling is meant for me as a journey to my inner growth, besides seeing something new, and my destinations are not always those, someone who is thinking about a holiday would consider. Many of them have been in conflict areas where we needed the support of some people we knew who were working at the UN missions.

Tbilisi, the capital of Georgia, has been chosen because I really liked the attitude of the country from its detachment from the Soviet Union, which happened in 1990.

I have traveled in Tbilisi during the spring period, and I believe I should have done it in summer to appreciate all the beauty of the place. 

Here are some pictures from the places that inspired me the most in Georgia:

Something I wanted to bring out from this trilogy was the cultural difference, the beauty of the landscape and cityscape, the flavors, the colors, and the language.

The contrast between the two places, Boston and Tbilisi, was something worth highlighting, and here are some pictures from Boston:

The Georgian characters are brought to life by the observations I have made and the people I have met during my stay in Tbilisi. 

In the same way, also the Boston characters come from direct experiences of people I have met during my journey in Boston.

Now I understand that we cannot generalize, and people are different even within the same country. Nevertheless, there are always those cultural heritage backgrounds common to general behavior.

Due to my lack of clue on how to properly market my writing, I have received very few reviews. However, I am glad to see that they are all positive, which compensates from low sales.

I hope you found this peeking behind the scenes interesting.

Here is the general link for the whole series:
Deadly Deception-The trilogy 

Jasmine's Wish Boxset

The Five Divisions in Each of the Books

When my daughter Jasmine decided she was going to pursue her idea to have my poems published, she realized she needed a title and to make them presentable.  First things first, she decided on the perfect title, Voices In My Head.  Now she could concentrate on the second task, presentation.  At the time, I had a Brother Word Processor that created beautiful pages.  Using various fonts and colors, she printed out every poem I had written that she could find.  The volume of paper she ended up with was more than she figured on.

Unwilling to be thwarted, she decided the poems just needed to be put into categories.  Jasmine attempted to sort them several different ways.  Her final choice was to separate them into 5 basic themes:  People In My Life, Nature In My World, Visions In My Mind, Days In My Years, and Pieces Of My Heart.  Once the divisions were settled on she decided to call the entire collection Voices In My Head. 

Sorting turned out to be rather frustrating as a great many of the poems could easily fit into more than one category.  Her decision was to place them where they fit best.  Jasmine's divisions had  the poems in alphabetical order.  Her reasoning was that a publisher would put them where they wanted to anyways.

Voices In My Head, the first book in the Jasmine's Wish set, is her design.Besides mixing up the poems, the only difference between what she mailed out and this volume was the addition of poems written after her attempt at publication.  

People In My Life

In this section, the theme of the poems is people. Some of the poems are about actual people, like my daughter and granddaughter. They tell what I feel about them and what they are doing.  Others are ideals, how I wish things were, or how I once thought the people were, as an example the poems about Moms.  Requested poems are also here.  "Adonis" or "Cereal Killer" are examples of poems where I took lots of characteristics and blended them into someone everyone knows. 

Nature In My World

Everything to do with nature. Weather, landscapes, animals, even outdoor activities are included in this category. Most of these poems are fantasies, mere mixtures of memories--theories on what the subject could be.  The poem "Sailor" envisions sailing across the oceans while "Cave Paintings" question the real reasons for the discoveries.The seasons have a major presence.  I have always been moved by the continuously changing displays of Mother Nature.  No two seasons are every exactly the same. 

Visions In My Mind

 Magic, fairy-tales and dreams are the mainstays of this section.  As you can probably guess, all of the poems could easily fit into this category as all the poems are just ideas in my head put down in ink.  Jasmine agreed with that assessment yet felt some would fit nowhere else.  Here we find poems like "Jack Frost" describing his painting the world, or ones with fairies dew-kissing the flowers.  Many relate tales of the paradise I wish the world was. Some are fanciful while others are thought provoking like "Child's View." 

Days In My Years

These are rhymes about actual days, specific times in my life. Poems in this section include birthday wishes I've written for people as well as my views on various holidays celebrated throughout the years. Days in general are also topics as I write of the need for coffee to face the day and how weeks have way too many days.  It is a section devoted to time as its ripples guide our lives.

Pieces Of My Heart

 

Emotions, thoughts and feelings about everything are gathered here. Anger, angst love and grief flicker through many of the stanzas. Laughter and sarcasm find homes in my heart as well. In this section, my voices help me understand and accept the way I feel. The verses help me find the balance that emotions destroy.  In these poems, as with any of the sections, the details are not necessarily my own experiences.  I try to put myself in someone else's shoes, see the world through their eyes.  I attempt to be them for a few moments and thus see both sides of situations.  I mainly write in the first person so no one will feel like a target, while still giving a truthful representation of the behavior I am witnessing.  Just knowing someone else feels what you feel or simply understands your pain is often the balm a heart needs to keep trying. 

The divisions Jasmine decided on were perfect, in my opinion.  For that reason, I used them for the entire set of books in this collection.  It is hers, a gift from my heart to her.  None of my other collections are divided, except 365, everything about them is random.  I feel it is the right thing to do.  Jasmine's Wish is the fulfillment of her dream for me and it should be special.

As a special note, I would like to thank Erika Szabo and Golden Box Books Publishing for the pictures used for each category. Erika added them to the e-versions of my books making them beautiful. 

Find Cindy on her:

Blog:
https://cindysvoices.blogspot.com/

Website:
http://carternovels.com/author-cindy-j-smith.html

Twitter:  @cindysvoices

FB:  https://www.facebook.com/CindysVoices/

GOODREADS:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6505989.Cindy_J_Smith

Pinterest:
https://www.pinterest.com/cindyjsmith1/

Portfilio Links
https://view.joomag.com/golden-box-book-publishing-cindys-voices/0568888001561494976

http://pubhtml5.com/ahsh/nmba

Squint-eyed Woman

When a simple paint job goes wrong

By Erika M Szabo

I visited a friend, Marie, and noticed with surprise that everyone in her family was unusually polite and quiet. On my usual visits everyone was laughing, teasing each other and her ten years old son, Brian, was running around in one of his many hero costumes.

That day the tension was thick as honey in their home. We sat around the coffee table and had a light chat about everyday things. Brian sat close to his father on the couch and acted like a little angel. I felt the brewing tension ready to erupt, and I was frantically searching for an excuse to shorten my visit.

Marie sat across from me with a plotting cat expression and distant smile on her face. Once in a while she darted angry looks at her husband and son that lasted only for a fraction of a second.

When Marie went out to the kitchen to put on coffee, Brian whispered to his father, "Dad, we are in big trouble."

"I know, son! There is nothing more dangerous in the whole world than a squint-eyed woman . You never know if she's going to forgive you, or she's planning your slow and painful death, until she comes to her final decision."

"What happened? What's wrong?" I asked.

"Well, we painted the kitchen while Marie was at work and we got a little carried away. We had such a great time and we even cleaned up by the time she got home, but as soon as she saw it, the silent treatment began. I'm in big trouble." Peter sighed.

I stood up and went out to the kitchen. Marie silently looked at me with murderous look in her eyes, lifted her arm and pointed at the walls that was dark blue with big, yellow stars painted all over it.

Trying to hide a laugh I managed to say, "They meant well Marie, give them some credit for the effort."

"Oh, I will give it to them alright! They will pay for this for a long-long time. I specifically told them vanilla color, and look what they did! I'm gonna... Oh, I'm going to..." she yelled with daggers in her eyes.

"Okay girlfriend, we're going to the movies." Marie opened her mouth to protest, "Go get ready, no objection!" I ordered her firmly, so she turned and went upstairs.

In the living room I told Peter, "I know you meant well, you had your fun too, but now to the store you go to get the vanilla color paint. You will paint the walls and clean up the kitchen by the time we get home. Otherwise, you two will stay in the doghouse for a long time."

The boys looked at each other, they stood up and stormed out the front door.

Marie wasn't a good companion that night. I struggled to get her her mind off her kitchen wall but she just sat there quietly as if she was plotting the punishment of her husband. A few hours later when I drove her home, Peter and little Brian were anxiously waiting in the living room. Marie walked into the kitchen and I was right behind her.

The kitchen was spotless and the walls had a fresh coat of vanilla color paint. The next day, with Marie's approval, they painted Brian's room blue with yellow stars.

Sir E Robert Smythe and the Lost Detective

Sir E. Robert Smythe and the Lost Detective

Christina Weigand

Can Sam overcome his anger to welcome Zoe and aid in the establishment of a homeless shelter in the community?

Excerpt:

     “All right. Love you mom.” Zoe kissed her mom on the cheek and ran back to the camp.

     She found the book on her cot in the tent and started to head back to the park. Passing the swamp she noticed Morton the Morph, the yellow toad like creature and his small blue pear shaped panngoes playing on the edge of the swamp. One of the panngoes bounced into the swamp.

     “Hey, you guys shouldn’t go in there,” Zoe yelled.

     “Oh don’t worry about them. They’ll be fine, just a bunch of panngoes,” Morton answered as more of the creatures bounced into the swamp.

     Zoe heard some dogs barking and one of the panngoes squealing. “One of them might be hurt. Shouldn’t you go in there and check on them.” She heard another sound, children talking and laughing. “Oh no someone’s coming. I have to hide. Mamma doesn’t want me to talk to any strangers.” The swamp would be the best place to hide, so she followed the panngoes into the swamp.

     One of the bigger ones had fallen in a hole and was calling out for the others to help him. Zoe followed the sound of the crying.

****

     Sam stomped through the kitchen door of their two-story house. “Some animal dumped the trash cans again. Why does it only happen on the days I have to take out the trash?” He snarled as he grabbed a trash bag and a pair of rubber gloves.

     “Sam, stop your complaining and get it done. We’re supposed to be meeting Hunter and Anna to go to the park for the Reading Club kick-off,” his sister, Bridget said.

     “Yeah, I’d rather head over to the Gullies Swamp soccer field for a quick game of soccer. I’m sure Hunter would too. I’m too old for the reading club.”

     “Well, you can’t do that.” Sam’s dad said. “Didn’t you see today’s paper? They voted to take that field on the other side of Gullies Swamp and turn it into a homeless community while they build some low cost housing for the homeless.”

     “Why the heck are they doing that?” Sam said. “Where am I supposed to play soccer?”

     “The high school field is open and the new field at the park.” Bridget answered.

     “But we always play at the Gullies Swamp fields.”

     “Well I think those fields are creepy. You have to go past the haunted swamp.” Bridget said.

     “It’s not haunted.” Sam said.

     “But you told me…”Bridget said.

     “Bridget, how many times have I told you not to listen to your brother’s stories about the swamp?” Mom said. “He does that just to scare you so you’ll stay away. Sam, finish cleaning up the trash so you can take your sister to the library.”

      Sam grabbed the broom and stomped out the door slamming it behind him.

Purchase Links:

Amazon

MuseItUp Bookstore: 

Editor and Cover Designer Appreciation Day

Let's give thanks our Editors and Cover Artists today

Book cover artists and editors contribute to the success of every book published and rarely get the recognition they deserve.

Readers don't really look at the copyright page to find out who edited the book, who created the cover, or formatted the book interior.

Authors, honor the people today who made possible for you to publish a well edited and aesthetically pleasing book.

Click on the links FACEBOOK and TWITTER which leads you to the posts.

Add your book links to the posts and tag your editors, book cover artists, and those who contributed to the publishing of your book yet stayed in the background.

If you're an author:
Click on this link to view the GBBPub free promos:
https://www.goldenboxbooks.com/promo.html

Happened today: something about the Pride month

June is called the Pride Month, where many cities worldwide are organizing marches and events to celebrate diversity not as something special, but as something that belong to human nature.
But why was the month of June chosen? Here in Helsinki the Gay Pride is scheduled for Saturday 29th (tomorrow).
The choice was indeed not randomly made, and those who have lived enough to remember the riots happened at the Stonewall Inn in the Greenwich Village, New York, know something about it.
The final years of the sixties were already on their own a period of societal turmoil, homosexuality wasn’t considered something acceptable, and the law condemned it.
It wasn’t an easy time for the LGBT community, and people felt the need to hide their nature for their own safety. The only places where they could get along in freedom were the gay bars, and one of the most popular was the Stonewall Inn.
The Stonewall Inn was an old horse stable and was once upon a time used as a restaurant, then it was turned into a gay bar in 1966.
Since it didn’t have any license to sell liquor, and it was generally in bad shape, the owners used to bribe Police officers to turn a blind eye on the business.
At 1:20 a.m. on Saturday, June 28, 1969, four plainclothes policemen in dark suits, and two patrol officers in uniform arrived at the Stonewall Inn and took over the place. Generally, they would have asked for the ID of those who were inside the bar, and those who were dressed as women were brought to the restroom to verify their gender. If they were male, they had to be arrested.
This procedure would have gone smoothly without any resistance act from anyone, but not that night.
That night, people refused to give their ID and refused to be identified as men or women. On that night people, although they were still scared of what could have happened to them, they felt it was more important to shout out their right to be, and within minutes, over 100 people gathered outside the Stonewall Inn.

Although the Police tried to restrain the crowd that was gathering to support those who were arrested, things started to escalate quickly, as the crowd soon outnumbered the Police officers who were forced to find shelter inside the bar.
The Tactical Patrol Force of the New York City Police Department arrived to free the Policemen trapped inside the Stonewall, and few officers were hurt by flying debris, thrown by the crowd.
The riot didn’t stop that night and continued for weeks, and many people sympathized with the rebellious, attending organizational meetings seizing the chance to take action.
Things were about to change, and the time was right, those who were feeling oppressed, now they were empowered. That was a day that marked an important date for gay rights, and it was going to leave a mark.
The following years, marches were organized to remember what happened on that day at the Stonewall Inn celebrating a milestone in the gay empowerment movement.
So, today we are celebrating that day, and try to shout out to those people living in countries where being gay is still a crime, in some cases punishable with a death sentence.

I will be off on Saturday, mixing with the crowd because although I am not gay, I do believe that it is nobody’s business who we love or how do we identify ourselves.
Have a great day!

Doing What You Love is a Blessing by Erika M Szabo

I'm blessed to be able to do what I love

I loved being a nurse for so many years, but now, physical limitations prevent me from continuing this noble profession. Writing had saved my sanity after the disappointing fact of not being able to take care of patients any longer.

Art has always been a passion and now I use my artistic abilities to create book covers, design book interiors, and marketing tools for fellow authors.
I'm blessed to be able to do what I love all my life, and I hope I can continue doing creative work for many years to come.

I finished the portfolio for Cindy J. Smith yesterday, which I'm proud of

Open publication - Free publishing

My latest book cover designs

 

 I also dabble with with creating book trailer videos

The book trailer for my trilogy

This is a trailer for Lorraine Carey's trilogy

I hope you enjoyed the short introduction of what I do.

Everyone is dealing with problems and limitations and perfect health exists only for a short time in our lives. Live your life to the fullest possible, and tailor your activities to your limitations.

See more on the GBBPub website

https://www.goldenboxbooks.com

Missing by Rick Haynes

Missing

https://www.rickhaynesauthor.com

My life was as empty as a cracked piss-pot. And with each day merging into the next I had no idea of time. With my best friend, Cissy, missing, my world had collapsed. The taste of any food was like chewing cardboard. It made me retch, but being so weak, I had to force myself to eat something. Eventually, I opened a can of baked beans; with hot sauce the taste was palatable. Starving to death was no longer an option but I still cried every day. 

Why did she disappear? Is she still alive? How did I allow this to happen? No matter what I thought, the idea of me being responsible never left me. Trips to her favourite place, attaching posters to telegraph poles and placing pictures in shop windows, all failed to produce any results. Even the police showed little interest.

A week passed. The telephone rang. A man with a deep voice spoke in harsh tones. His English was poor and he frequently repeated himself. He demanded money. I was worried about how Cissy was coping without her medication and without thinking, I instantly agreed to his demands. He gave me specific directions about where and when we should meet and I was warned that Cissy would die if I didn’t comply. The bank asked questions about my withdrawal of £1000 in cash, but my insistence paid off.

The relief in knowing that Cissy lived was like a lottery win that didn’t exist. I was overjoyed she was safe, yet terrified I’d never see her again if I made a cock up. I imagined she was tied up, blindfolded, perhaps tortured. Nothing else mattered. My lass had disappeared and as long as I followed the instructions, all would be well.

Going over his directions one last time, I set out to be reunited with my beloved, Cissy.

The clouds had finally decided to play elsewhere. After my long climb through the forest, I could now see the top of the disused lighthouse. Inhaling deeply, I took in the clean air lightly scented with salt. Weathered steps of stone curled around the stone colossus but that wasn’t the route I was instructed to take. Looking to the right, I saw another track overgrown with thick bushes and low slung branches.

Once more my mind wandered. Would she be waiting? Would she be unharmed? It was time to make the last ascent. Slowly, like an old man in fear of falling, I placed one foot in front of the other and followed the track towards my destiny.

A shaft of light arrowed through the greenery before instantly disappearing. Would it be my star of hope? Without thinking, I quickened my pace. Calling her name made me want to believe she would greet me at the summit. Faster, I told myself as I ploughed on. The treeline ended and all trace of the shadows vanished as a sunray illuminated the small clearing in front of me.

And there she was, securely tied to an old tree. I looked around, saw the empty bag, placed the cash inside, untied Cissy, picked her up in my arms, kissed her and quickly retraced my steps. Little did the kidnapper know I had left a tracer inside the bag and spread a little poison over the notes.

Rot in hell, I mumbled as I walked back down the slope.

No one steals my dog, my best friend, Cissy, and gets away with the crime.

rickhaynesauthor.com

The Good Teacher

The Good Teacher

Lorraine Carey

Got Family Secrets?

Every family has a skeleton in the closet—right? Most families have secrets but some are darker than others.

So is the case with The Good Teacher, book 1 of the Women of the Willow Wood Trilogy.

Daniella Reyes knew from early on she had a strange gift but wasn’t sure how to define it at such a young age. She’s a strong emapth and sensitive. She’s felt the physical pain and emotional abuse from others, not to mention her ability to communicate with animals.

It’s not until her early twenties that she learns of her gifts and becomes aware of a most ancient and secret society of women living in New Mexico. Another surprise is that her own aunt is a member! This comes at a time when Daniella’s life is about to be thrust into the world of the Supernatural—and not by her own choices.

Something wicked this way comes!

~ An excerpt from The Good Teacher

"There is no cure for this gift you possess, only a means to control it. That's the secret—to control and use it for the good of all intended. I happen to know Josephina Deluna has a class over at Desert Mirage for sensitives and empaths. You'll learn how to ground and protect yourself there."

Something told me she knew much more about this than she was letting on. I flashed back to my day at the shop when Josephina’s eyes had lit up at the mention of my aunt's name.

"So, who's this Josephina lady, anyway?"

"I told you: I met her years ago when I attended the Old San Ysidro Church in Corrales where we had a close-knit group for women. The two of us seemed to hit it off, and one day she invited me to her shop. I even took a few of her classes. She's what you would call a “white witch."

"You . . . you took classes? And from a witch?" I was taken aback by her confession—my family were devout Catholics.

"She's well-versed in the art of the old ways of the Women of the Willow Wood and their worship to Santa Muerta. I'm still a Christian, Daniella. Do you think I'd have a shrine to our Lady if I weren't?

"This gift runs in the family. It can be of great benefit if you use it wisely. If you don't, it can destroy your life and the lives of those around you."

I looked at her in amazement. "Tell me about these Women of the Willow Wood." I was picturing  women with long robes, traipsing around the woods at midnight.

Book 1 is available @ Amazon

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01E3Z6AII/