Thursday, May 23, 2019

The Stakes Have Been Raised


The Stakes Have Been Raised!

Lorraine Carey


Kindergarten isn’t what it used to be twenty years ago. Reading Readiness and many concepts that were taught in grade one are now expected to be in place by the start of kindergarten.

As a veteran teacher and reading specialist I have been involved with teaching kindergarten, testing and working with students who were left well behind their peers in kindergarten. This has only resulted in frustrated children who lack self-esteem and begin to have a negative response to literacy when this should be a time to set the tone for a great reader and lifetime lover of books.

I was trained in The Collaborative Literacy Project, which is very similar to Reading Recover, which is taught in many schools. It’s proven results have had students retaining grade level status or above up to grade four.

This can be easily remedied with knowing exactly what is expected of your child prior to kindergarten. Here in my book, A Rock Star Reader Before Kindergarten I divulge my secret sauce for success. In these easy steps practiced daily your child will not only learn to read but become that lifelong successful reader.

The Reading Experience is a Bond~

We have many qualified teachers out there, but the most valuable instruction will come from you! If your child sees you reading he or she will know this is a valued concept.

Set a special time each day to read with your child. Try to set a schedule and make it fun. This is where you will set the tone for a love of literacy.

A Rock Star Reader By Kindergarten is always 99cents for Kindle. It is available in eBook and print. I want every child out there to have a chance to go to the head of the class!  School is about to be out for the summer and there is not better time than now to get this process in motion.

I have two videos to assist you with this book. The links are below. And I am always more than willing to aid in any questions for assistance you may have.

Now Let’s Get Rockin’!

 Buy Link ~


Instructional Videos~


Email~ 

lorraineacarey@gmail.com

Wednesday, May 22, 2019

Fake It Till You Make It

Is it a good advice?


I wrote this short story remembering all the seemingly perfect families I've met in my life.
They show a picture perfect family life but hide the struggles, heartache, compromises, and sacrifices they made to get there.
People are not perfect and we all come with a baggage. We can live a happy life or a create a chaotic life. It all depends on the choices we make

Nancy arrives home from a long day at work. She kicks off her high heels and walks into the kitchen. Bruce lights the candles on the dinner table and embraces her in a warm hug. Her two girls, ages five and six, are running from the playroom to greet her. Their handsome seventeen-year-old boy looks up from his computer and smiles at her.
A beautiful picture, isn’t it? The man plays the role of the happy househusband and the wife is the breadwinner. Nothing is wrong with that. But, let’s just see how they got to this ideal picture of a happy home.

A short snippet from the book
Bruce remembered a conversation he had with his father a long time ago.
They were sitting at the kitchen table having a beer when he was just a teenager. He felt so grown up and important because his father let him drink a beer. He asked his father if he ever loved his mother. He had watched their relationship since he was a small child, and he couldn’t sense any devotion on his father’s part.

“She’s a dumb bitch. What’s there to love? But she’s a good mother and a good provider. I find my love elsewhere, son. The home is for security and comfort while I’m looking for a job,” he said, winking at Bruce. “She’s well trained if you know what I mean,” he continued.

Bruce wanted his father’s approval desperately. He was the role model for absentee fathers, but occasionally they had a moment together when he felt some closeness to him. All his life he believed that his mother and, as a matter of fact, every woman was just a meal ticket to an easy life. That’s what he saw, and that’s what he learned. He thought about relationships rationally: have fun with a girl but marry a steady woman on whom you can depend, as his father said. He had many girls to have fun with, and when he was in his early twenties, he began looking for a wife. He moved in and out of fleeting relationships, and he was surprised in the beginning that after four or five months, the women threw him out. They saw right through him and they refused to be used. He asked his father about it.

“Son, you have to be smart. You can’t just sit at home watching movies all day. Of course, they will find out you have no intention to work. You must ‘fake it till you make it’ Take a job, do it for a couple of weeks, and then get yourself fired. Find a way that makes it look like it wasn’t your fault. Then you’re okay for a couple of months; they will leave you in peace to look for another job,” his father advised him.
It worked for years, and he could stay in a relationship longer and longer.

My published fiction, children's books, and audiobooks:


Tuesday, May 21, 2019

Palace of the Three Crosses



Palace of the Three Crosses


Christina Weigand




Excerpt:


A loud, obnoxious soldier on the other side of the room loudly expressed his feelings about the recent war and the funeral. “I think things’re going to get a sorry sight worse now that Theodric’s left us. Those boys of his couldn’t rule their way out of his crown. Joachim may be a small site better than his brother, Brandan, but I still think we’s in serious trouble ’fore things get better. Only Asha knows what’ll happen in Mahorg, ’specially if they send the whelp Brandan back there. He's already betrayed his family and Crato and run away with his tail tucked ‘tween his legs. Who's to say he won' do it again? Sides, I heard tell he was in bed with Sidramah along with his minion Waldrom and those dirty little Mantions. Yessir, this country's headed for trouble with those boys running it.”
Visibly incensed, Brandan stood up, took a swig of goll, and marched over to the blowhard. “You should watch what you say and where you say it. Your job and life could be called into question.”
“And who are you to question me, whelp? Maybe you should run back to your mother’s skirts and leave this business to us grownups.”
“Do you know who you are talking to, soldier?”
“Get on with you, back to your mummy.”
Brandan reached for his sword, but Joachim grabbed his arm before he could draw it. Brandan swung around and knocked Joachim to the floor. Joachim came up swinging and hit his brother in the jaw. Brandan punched him in the stomach and pushed him into the bar. The soldier grabbed a walking stick leaning against the wall, raised it over his head, and brought it down on Joachim's right arm. White hot pain screamed through his body as Joa slumped to the floor only vaguely aware of the action around him. He cradled his injured right arm with his left hand. Lukan came up behind and grabbed the man’s arms. He pinned them behind his back while Brandan hit the soldier in the stomach. The barkeep came out from behind the bar, seized the walking stick, and threatened to hit anyone who moved.
“Lukan, you had best take your guests home.”
Lukan released the drunken soldier. “Oliver, it’s time you get home to your pregnant wife. You don’t know whom you have insulted here, and if these boys want, they could see you lose your job or your life, for what you have said and done here tonight. This is Prince Joachim and Prince Brandan you've attacked.”
The barkeeper bent down and looked at Joachim. “Lukan, better get a healer here fast. He's not looking too good.”
Lukan ran out the door and soon returned with Rupert, who immediately bent down and examined the injured arm.
“Sire, I think we need to get you to a master healer. Your bone appears to be shattered, and there is extensive bleeding from the gash in the back of your head.  You need the attention of someone who can do more than I. Lukan, carry him to his horse. Brandan, come on and help out here.”
The agony in his arm intensified with the movement, and Joachim welcomed the darkness of oblivion.
* * * *
Lukan left the room carrying Joachim, with Rupert and Brandan following. Once outside, they found a wagon parked in the alley beside the tavern and gently laid Joachim in it rather than heave him onto his horse. Lukan got in the driver's seat.
Rupert patted the horse and directed him toward the palace. He turned to Brandan. “What happened? What are you even doing out here without an escort? Have you no sense in your fool head? Your brother could be crippled for life and all because of some foolish plan of yours.”
“No, Rupert, it was Joa's idea to come here. He needed to get away from the gloom and doom of the palace. He invited me to come along. That big oaf, Oliver started mouthing off about how we couldn’t even rule our way out of Father’s crown like we were a couple of spoiled brats without the good sense Asha gave us. I couldn’t listen to it anymore. I tried to convince him to be quiet…then Joachim came over. I pushed him out of the way to protect him from Oliver, and he came back and hit me. I pushed him away again. Then that crazy Oliver grabbed a walking stick and hit Joa as his arm landed on the bar. Lukan grabbed him and stopped everything. It was only then I realized how badly Joa was hurt and sent Lukan to get you.”
Watching Rupert’s silent reaction, Brandan was relieved. He had dodged another swipe of the sword.
When they got back to the palace, they found Joachim already in his quarters being tended by the royal healer with Maeve at his bedside. When Brandan came in, she ran over and hit him on the chest. “What were you thinking? How could you do this to him? He may never be able to use his arm again.”
“I didn't do it.” Brandan grabbed her wrists. “It was a drunken soldier who started everything. If he had kept his big mouth shut, none of this would have happened. This isn't my fault.”
“How can you say that? Even if you didn’t hit him, you caused this. He was probably trying to keep you out of trouble. You are so good at deflecting blame and not taking responsibility for your actions. I think you should leave.”
“He’s my brother. I have more right than you do to be here. You aren’t married to him. You're a Kningrad, no more; maybe you should be the one to leave.”
Master Adept Rupert stepped between the two of them. “If you don’t stop this bickering, both of you will leave. Let’s wait and see what the healer can do. In the meantime, you both can remain…but quietly.”
The prince took a seat in a nearby chair. Maeve went back to Joa's bedside, but soon moved a bit farther away to allow the healer more room to work.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the healer moved away from Joachim. “I have done all I can. The radius and ulna bones are shattered. I’m not sure whether he will ever regain full use of it. There is too much damage for me to repair it all. Fortunately, for him, he’s left-handed; so once his right arm has sufficiently healed, he’ll still be able to fight along with other things requiring arms.”
“Are you sure there is nothing more you can do, not even some magic?” Rupert asked.
“No, Master Rupert. You should know better than to ask. I have done all that is humanly possible. He’ll live, if that is the will of Asha. I cannot do magic requiring extraordinary measures that go beyond ensuring his survival. If Asha wills it, then the arm will heal properly, but it is not for me to say or do.”
“You’re right, and I know it. Wishful thinking on my part. He will live, and that’s what is most important. The rest is up to Asha.”
The conversation did not satisfy Brandan. Why couldn't they perform a little magic and heal Joa's smashed arm? If Sidramah were in control, he would heal Joa's arm and make him better than ever. How could the healers settle for only partial recovery? Why didn’t they want it all?
Brandan stood and stalked out of the room. 

Video Trailer:


 


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Friday, May 17, 2019

Nature's Beauty



Waterfalls sing the songs of my soul




I love waterfalls from a trickle cascading down the side of a rocky cliff  to the thundering majesty of a raging river.  Each has a unique beauty that speaks to me.


My job as a truck driver, I had the opportunity to see a lot.  It was one of the few benefits of traveling the 48 contiguous states. It is also the only thing I miss as I still drive but on a designated route.  



I would watch the mountain sides as my husband drove looking for them.  Tall falls at the beginning of spring filled with winter melt-off were spectacular. 


Sometimes the rocky ledges carved out for the road to pass held mini ones especially after a storm.


Hidden cascades deep with forests are my favorite.  Easily I envision fairies and elves dancing among the spray. The sound itself is peaceful. All worries lost, they slowly float away.


I find myself amazed at how pictures of them affect me the same way being near one does. I can almost feel the spray as its music fills my ears.  From roars to tinkling bells, the sounds are clear.


Most enchanting is the way frozen falls reveal a life put on pause. Beauty for all to behold.



THAW

In town the icicles
Finally began to melt
From the caressing warmth
Of the Spring sun I now felt

On snow-capped mountains
The thaw had also begun
Drops becoming trickles
Joining together in fun

Rivulets meandering
Along worn ancient ways
Searching for shallow pools
Joining together to play

Levels growing slowly
Water-drops’ excitement strong
Knowing that their parades
Would be starting before long

The final drops get added
Causing the pools to overflow
All vying to be first
To begin annual show

From the high mountain top
To the valley far below
The drops now becoming
A cascading water flow

Magnificent Spring falls
For all in nature to see
The mountain was ending
Winter’s hold most gracefully

© Cindy J. Smith
from Voices In My Head

Website:
https://cindysvoices.blogspot.com/
Twitter: @cindysvoices
FB:  https://www.facebook.com/CindysVoices/
GOODREADS:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6505989.Cindy_J_Smith
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Thursday, May 16, 2019

Deadly Deception -Insomniac-

By P. J. Mann

This is the second book of the trilogy Deadly Deception. As we say bye-bye to Ethan Jackson who was the main character of the first book of the trilogy, we are going to meet new friends, which will entertain us with their personal vicissitudes.

Here is the blurb:
Something keeps Laura Jefferson up at night. Maybe it’s the Boston traffic, maybe the sounds of the city outside her apartment window, maybe the stresses of day to day life. Whatever it is, when she’s offered a radical treatment at a secluded hotel, she doesn’t even hesitate.

But while the hotel is perfect, the grounds idyllic, and Dr. Wright and his staff friendly and eager to help, it isn’t long before Laura’s fellow patients begin acting strangely, some even dropping out of the program altogether, disappearing into the night. As Laura loses chunks of time, a detective arrives, and the questions at the heart of the hotel begin to unravel.
Continuing the trilogy, Deadly Deception -Insomniac- draws closer to the mystery of Dr. Wright’s research, and the lies behind Laura’s perfect night of sleep.

Excerpt:
He took out his notebook and started to write some notes about what his feelings were. That was a sort of self-psychoanalysis or a way to understand himself and to get a better grasp over the triggers that take over a serial killer.

Although with just one murder on his conscience, he could not consider himself a serial killer, he knew from the very beginning that the need to step into murder was feasible.

“There are things that I still fail to understand about the feelings of being an assassin, of planning and eventually executing a murder. Something for sure is the powerful effect it has on the conscious.
Like a heavy curtain, it is able to obliterate any other feelings like compassion and empathy. When I think about the process, my brain gives priority to what gives me some sort of pleasure. It is like it’s trying to push aside the feelings like regret, fear, compassion, and empathy, emphasizing the pleasure I can get from the power of choosing the fate of another human being.
It feels like I am no longer a fellow human, but a sort of super being that has the power and right to decide who is going to live and who instead has to die.
This is a sort of trigger I might use with my patients, to help them in their fight against the murderer inside them…
Sometimes to cure a monster, you need to become a monster yourself.”

He shook his head and hoped that nasty story would have come soon to an end. “If I get out of this alive, I promise to leave the country and peacefully enjoy my life.”
He took a deep breath and switched off the lights hoping to find some rest.

Links to the book:
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amazon author page: www.amazon.com/author/pjmann

Wednesday, May 15, 2019

Peanut Butter Puppy


Peanut Butter Puppy


Christina Weigand


Things in my life have gotten a little hectic in the last few weeks and I did not have time to write a post about another author. So I am going to take a break from the series and share a life story. Keep in mind that the two young girls, two and four years old are now 15 and 18, so this happened several years ago.

Never fear in two weeks I will be back with another interesting author for you to learn about.

Image by Sally Wynn from Pixabay 


Recently my 21-year-old daughter purchased a puppy, much to the chagrin of my husband.  In spite of his dissatisfaction, I think it was a good purchase.  My four-year-old daughter and her two-year-old niece are learning some interesting lessons.  The four year old, Ana likes to help feed and walk the puppy.  The two years old, Andi likes to give the puppy treats.  In fact, she would give the dog treats all day long, if we let her.

Both of the girls like to play with the puppy and the puppy likes to play with the girls.  The problem is none of them knows how to communicate how they want to play.  If Ana and Andi run across the yard, the dog, Daisy, thinks the girls want to play tackle and will run after them and tackle them.  Not quite what the girls had in mind.  If Ana waves her arms or fingers in front of Daisy, she thinks it’s a chew toy for her to chew on, again not what Ana had in mind.  If Ana’s skirt it blowing in the wind Daisy thinks it’s time to play tug of war and latches onto Ana’s skirt, again not what Ana had in mind.

If Daisy jumps up and wants to wrestle, the girls squeal and panic, not quite what Daisy had in mind.  If Daisy lies down and the girls descend on her thinking she wants to play, again not what Daisy had in mind.

Trying to housetrain has been real fun.  In fact we have successfully outdoor trained her.  She will go outside if she is outside, but as soon as we bring her in the house, she finds a place to go to the bathroom, usually on the carpet in my family room.  So now we have to figure out how to reverse train her.

Then there was the bath.  We hadn’t bathed her since we brought her home; so to say, the least she was becoming a little fragrant and my husband wouldn’t let her in the house to play with the kids.  We decided the time had come for a bath.  Katie went out and purchased a spray hose that we could attach to the tub faucet.  Katie and I, who are two grown women, could not figure out how to attach this hose to the spout. Katie decided to go on without the hose.  She puts the dog in the tub with Ana and Andi in attendance.  Quickly the dog jumps out of the tub and tries to take off.  Katie catches Daisy and puts her back in the tub.  Quickly she washes and rinses Daisy and finishes just as Daisy jumps out of the tub again, this time shaking off the water all over the bathroom.  Now Daisy is running down the hall with two little girls chasing her.  Trying to catch a wet puppy is like trying to catch a greased pig, nearly impossible.  Soon Daisy is caught though and Katie dries her off and puts her in the family room to watch a movie with us.  Daisy finds an adult lap to sit on and curls up on it until bedtime.

The next day, Daisy is resting on the patio while the girls innocently play on the patio.  Keep in mind that with a two year old and a four year old nothing is ever really innocent.  I am in the kitchen preparing dinner and Katie is nearby doing something.  Ana strolls casually into the kitchen and takes a jar of peanut butter that was left on the counter and goes back to the patio door where she meets Andi and Daisy.  I glance over, see them sitting on the step quietly, and don’t think anything of it.  So they are eating peanut butter from the jar, what are they hurting?  Soon Katie comes out to the kitchen and starts screaming, “What is all over my dog!”  Notice now that it has become her dog any other time it is just the dog.  She runs outside and realizes the girls are covered with peanut butter as well as the dog.  The girls have decided to make a peanut butter puppy.  I start laughing as Katie runs to find a hose so she can clean the dog while I am left to clean her daughter as well as mine and put the peanut butter away.  Soon the mess is cleaned up and we have a good laugh about it.

We have had the puppy for a little over a month now and she has been a lot of fun.  The little girls are learning about responsibility and I am learning patience and how to bite my tongue.  We have had fun, I’m sure that as the dog, and the girls grow and learn we will have many more fun times if we can live through them.  We must remember to keep our sense of humor through it all.  The world will not end because we have a peanut butter puppy or some water on the walls.  Soon they will be grown and gone and peanut butter puppies or skirts that look like tug of war ropes will be a distant memory.  They are the stuff that life is made of.





Tuesday, May 14, 2019

Alone by Erika M Szabo

A thought-provoking, futuristic, romantic short story


Will people feel the emotions of loss in the future as deeply as we do today?
How far will they be willing to go in finding the happiness they lost?
Caleb lost his Valerie. Will he find her?

A short snippet from the book:

“How could I do this alone, Val?” Caleb reached out and gently traced the name, Valerie Taylor, carved into the white marble headstone, with his fingers. “We were meant to be together until we grew old.”

As he had done every week since she passed, he sat down in front of the gravestone. Leukemia had taken her from him, moving so much faster than either of them could ever have imagined possible. All the plans they’d had for what was going to come meant nothing. She was gone.

Caleb sighed to ease the heaviness in his chest and looked up at the tree covered with flowers, close to the grave. “We had studied here when we were young. But always loved this magnolia tree. That’s why your parents chose this secluded spot to… Oh, Val. I miss you so much!”

More than once, over the past four years, he’d been told he was young and there would be someone else in his life. He’d love someone, to fill the void, but nobody understood what it was like to find a true soulmate. “I miss you, every day, and I keep trying to push myself to keep going, but there have been so many times when I’ve thought about just ending it all. I know I shouldn’t. You would never forgive me if I’d throw my life away, but you were my life, and…” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know every time I come here it seems like I say the same thing. I want things to be different, but without you here, there’s no happiness in my heart.”


I write speculative alternate history fiction, romantic urban fantasy, historical suspense novels as well as fun, educational, and bilingual books for children ages 2-14 about acceptance, friendship, family, and moral values such as accepting people with disabilities, dealing with bullies, and not judging others before getting to know them. I also like to encourage children to use their imagination and daydream about fantasy worlds.

Saturday, May 11, 2019

Our 6 Days Blog-hop Starts Tomorrow, May 12

Play with us, have fun, and win prizes


Here is how to play:
Each day during the 6 days blog-hop:
There will be 2 blog post on the OAG authors' blogs. (see the scheduled dates and blog links below)
The authors will post about their books and hide a secret word, for you to find, in the post.
If you don't have time to visit the blogs on the given dates, no worries! You can catch up the next day, just make it sure you visit the blogs from #1 to #12, so you can collect the hidden words in order.

Collect a hidden word from each blog.
The secret words will be hidden in the text of the posts between 6 asterisks such as ***-----***

If you visit every blog on the list:
You'll have 12 words which makes a quote about writing.

At the last stop on the 17th of May:
Enter the correct 12 words quote in the CONTEST ENTRY form.


The list of the participating blogs:

Enjoy the blog posts, have fun, and good luck to be one of the winners!

Friday, May 10, 2019

The Power of the Divine Feminine

The Power of the Divine Feminine

~ Lorraine Carey



For the past two decades we seem to be hearing a lot about the Divine Feminine. Is this just a resurgence of feminism? My thoughts say maybe not, but it all depends on how deep one digs to find out where ancient women of power yielded such energy and even magic.


They have been referred to as prophetic women, shamanic women, goddesses, priestesses and even witches. They were known to possess healing powers, spin time, shape shift and predict the future with visions.

We have the high priestess of ancient Greece who ruled the house of Apollo who were belonged to the sect of the Oracle of Delphi. They would sit in a sacred cave inhaling vapors, which enabled them to call prophecy to the gods. The ancient cult of the Roman Vestal Virgins were also said to possess magic and protect Rome with a sacred flame.

Goddess Hathor of ancient Egyptian times was a sky deity and mother of the sky god. She had several priestesses who practiced divination and magic. These women were allowed to be a priest claiming that childbirth, fertility and certain magic were the responsibility of women only. It was a sacred rite.

The Temple of Tentyra at Dendera Egypt is a site chosen due to its already existing feminine energy. It dates back to Middle Kingdom and lasted until the Roman Empire.


Ancient monuments and megalithic sites are known to be portals where our power women accessed their powers. Many famous Irish megalithic sites are dated back to 3500 BC. These monuments have an astronomical function and are aligned to the sun, moon and stars. Some have alignments to Sirius, Venus and the Pleiades. It is at these portals that are a pathway to the Otherworld.


The Moura Encantada has ancient lineage of powerful shamanic women. They were said to be the guardians of the pathways into middle earth. They had the power to shape shift and were said to be dangerously seductive.

Our women shaman traveled into the wilder places alone to receive their wisdom. ‘Well-Wyrding’ is a practice where women would visit a holy well or sacred spring on certain nights to receive divine prophecy based solely on the movement and sound of water. Many would go deep into the woods and listen to the wind from the sacred trees. It was here they would receive messages from Mother Nature. No special tools needed here.

Ancient Irish texts mention the Drui and gifted poets who could journey into the underworld by chanting poetry by entering into a trance. This is called, ‘Imbas forosnai.

So I guess we can say feminism has roots that indeed go way back. It makes one think deeper about the term, ‘Mother Earth’.


Most of my books feature empowered women who possess many of the same powers mentioned here. Prophetic women have always intrigued me.




Thursday, May 9, 2019

Caesar And The Bluebells by Cindy J. Smith

Caesar And The Bluebells

Caesar lives on a farm with his owner, Lori. Caesar is a retriever who loves playing in the field of bluebells while protecting the farm. Lori puts two gnomes in her garden for decoration. Caesar thinks something is not right about them. The next May when Lori and Caesar visit their bluebell field, it is destroyed. The fairies are worried. Their queen is missing! Caesar knows the gnomes are involved. Can Caesar find the Queen and fix the mess?


A friend from high school wanted a story about her dog and her bluebell field. I explained to her that I just write poetry and the project was beyond my abilities.

The voices do not like it when I say I am unable to write things.  Despite having absolutely no idea how to connect a dog and a bluebell field, Oscar and the Bluebells, was fully developed within a week. 

Unfortunately, my friend wanted to change everything.  Heartbroken to think it was so terrible it needed to be rewritten by someone else, I took it back.  I changed the name of the dog, the owner and the location of the field. Then I forgot all about it being on my computer. 

Several years later, I was "organizing" my laptop and gathering all my poems written in various documents into one file.  When I came upon it, I decided to ask a fellow author what she thought of the story.  I was surprised to find she loved it and in fact had started coming up with illustrations for it!

The initial version was published by Erika M. Szabo at Golden Box Books with her illustrations.



I decided I would write another story and that I wanted to have the illustrations more lifelike.  I hired Daniela Frongia of Cais Arts to redo my book. This is the version currently available. 


SNIPPET:

I am an old retriever named Caesar
Lori Simpleton is my owner
We live in Ohio on a farm
It is my job to keep all from harm

When not working, I run, hunt and play
My favorite time is early May
'Cause that is when the sweet bluebells bloom
Delicate end to Winter's deep gloom

I am very lucky, for you see
Lori has a field of them for me
When we're there I jump and roll around
Then cool off in mud puddles I've found

I chase bunnies and beavers I track
For following trails I have a knack
My owner just laughs with such delight
When the turkeys and pheasants take flight

She enjoys the pretty flowers there
Takes pictures of beauty everywhere
But, she can't see the tiny fairies
Lori thinks they're just large bumblebees!

BUY LINK:

REVIEWS:

"When the world suddenly loses its charming bluebells, Caesar comes to the rescue. Written with a light rhyme scheme, Caesar and the Bluebells is a wonderful tale of a dog who solves the mystery by snooping on the yard gnomes. My grade school grandkids love this story!" WhittyOne


"Terrific for boys and girls alike!! A truly beautiful book!

I absolutely loved this book! The story is wonderful, mysterious and fun! The illustrations are beautiful and go along perfectly with the story!! This is definitely a must have for your child, niece, nephew or friend's child...I am purchasing one for my great nephew and my best friend's granddaughter!!

This book was given to me for my honest opinion! So thank you for that...it was refreshing and a true pleasure to read as well as review! " Kim Page


"This unique and wonderful children's book is full of life and poetry that's perfect for apparent to share with their child. The adventure Caesar goes on to help the fairies and deal with the gnomes is delightful from start to finish. If you have a young one at home, like I do, this book is the ideal bedtime reading that you all can bond over."  Jeremy Croston



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