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The Coming Year

I wish for everyone who reads this…..a warm winter in front of a fire,

A cat curled up in your lap,

A silly smile of contentment,

loved ones sharing laughter,

and brittle hard days….few and far between….

I wish you God’s blessings.

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Generally speaking, witches’ parties are no fly-by-night things.

1. Never insult a witch at the party, no matter what she says; you could be turned into a frog.
2. (Number 1 leads to this one) Don’t eat the frog legs – you might be eating someone you know.
3. Skip the punchbowl, unless you like eye of newt or bat wings, etc.
4. If some witch asks how you clean your kitchen floor, say a mop or vacuum. Brooms are a no-no since they are touchy about anyone using their travel mode for such menial labor. Think of a BMV mopping the floor.
5. Avoid any witch discussing magic spells with a twitching nose or one with a cold who sneezes – who knows, you might end up in Hades or Timbuktu.

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The Reluctant Miss Van Helsing at Boroughs Publishing.

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Miss Frankenstein is LIVE on Boroughs Publishing,  Smashwords, Amazon and All Romance eBooks. Kobo, Barnes & Noble, Apple and Diesel come on line within a week.  

This is a an action, fun-filled romp through Regency England with Clair Frankenstein and an odd-ball, scary and historical array of characters.  This won Best Historical Vampire Novel by RT.   It was also nominated for Best First Novel.

“The rumors of my being undead have been greatly exaggerated,” Ian stated formally, his green eyes glinting with mischief.

“It’s impossible,” Clair said, clasping a hand to her breast. “You are not a vampire!” Stunned, she stared at Baron Huntsley, who stood in her morning room alive and well and certainly not bursting into flames. Not even one ash was upon the fool man. Didn’t he know the rules of vampiredom? A vampire burned to a crisp in broad daylight.

“When my butler, Brooks, announced you, I thought he had misheard,” she said to herself. Drat the blasted reprobate. She fumed, feeling like her friend Alice, who had fallen in a rabbit hole, at the Angleton picnic. How was the impossible possible? She was hallucinating, perhaps due to burning the midnight oil once too often.

 

 

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Charleston Oregon

For the cooler summers of the Oregon Coast. We are over a 100 today in hell, also know as South Texas

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Today’s fairy tales, I believe, are the romance novels.  Someone meets someone so spectacular that the man is almost unreal…he’s handsome, strong, rich, generous, kind, gentle, romantic, understanding, brave and with a butt like a granite rock and don’t forget the abs.  He never sits on the couch, hogging the remote, watching football and drinking beer and farting.  This perfect man helps us with dinner and the dishes with a rose in his teeth, which he presents to us with a smile, wearing nothing else.  (Of course, the kids are at the in-laws).  Afterwards he doesn’t fall into the sleep of the dead, snore to wake the dead and steal the covers, leaving us freezing to death.  No, our fairy tale prince, cuddles us and tells us how amazing we are and how beautiful (he doesn’t see the gray hair or the wrinkles around the eyes).  We, of course, eat it up along with the chocolate covered strawberries he has prepared.  This Prince Charming sweeps us off our feet on his white charger or Jeep or BMW, depending on one’s own fairy tale preference.  The prince would also slay our dragons, like the repairman who speaks Greek and charges like the Romans when talking about our broken commode, if we would let him.  But we are are emancipated and thus, must fight our dragons alone.  Still, it’s nice to know that there is a dragon slayer nearby if you need one.  Anyway, in the romance novel all’s well that ends well.  Happy endings, like the Fairy tale where they ride off into the sunset to the castle surrounded by roses.  Here’s to Fairy Tales…….to pure escapism and great writing.  Where would we be if we didn’t believe in forever after and romance and love and a great ending?  The end.

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