Some uplifting thoughts to start the week

There are people who take the heart out of you, and there are people who put it back.
Elizabeth David
be sure and be the kind of person who puts the heart back

If the people around you don't believe in you, if they don't encourage you, then you need t find some people who do
John Maxwell

Somebody saw something in you once --and that is why you're where you are today. Thank them! Don Ward

Most people see what is, and never see what can be.
Albert Einstein
look for what can be then it becomes what is

You must believe in yourself, my child, or no one else will believe in you. be self-confident, self-reliant, and even if you don' make it, you wil know you have done your best. Now go to it.
Mary Hardy MacArthur

Virtually every great accomplishment or movement was started by someone who believed passionately in something - and someonewho believed passionately in that person.
Margart Warren

Those who believe in our ability do more than stimulate us. They create for us an atmosphere in which it becomes easier to succeed.
John H. Spalding

The greatest good we can do for others is not to share our riches but to reveal theirs.
B.J. Marshall

Believe that there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Believe that you might be that light for someone else.
Kobi Yamada


Remember, if your day is dark, try to make it lighter by being a light to someone else. You will be surprised how bright your day becomes. Have a great week. Charlene

Rose Quartz

Coming down to the wire. Wednesday is the last day of the Rose Quartz contest. Rose Quartz will be out Thursday. For a chance to win a Rose Quartz Tee Shirt send me an email at sandracox1@gmail.com and tell me if Bella Tremaine was talking to you would she address you as sweetheart, darling, honey, or sugar. Just put the correct answer in the header. Need a hint? Here's the quote of the day.


Quote of the day: "Sugar, you take my breath away." Bella Tremain, Rose Quartz.

Excerpt:

An engine purred softly.

“Bella get back!” Hank yelled as he threw open the door and came racing toward her.

Startled, she looked up. The car, its lights off, came out of nowhere. For a moment she felt like a deer caught in the headlights, her jaw slack, her mouth gaping.

Hank tackled her. He knocked her to the ground, rolling over and over with her, absorbing most of the shock from the hard concrete with his tough body.

As the car sped by, he yanked her up. “Are you all right?” When she didn’t immediately respond, he shook her his tone urgent.

“Yeees.” She lifted a shaky hand to the side of her head, her keys still clutched in her hand.

He shoved her toward her apartment building. “Get inside,” he ordered, already racing for the truck. With three long-legged strides, he reached the pickup and hopped in the cab.

“Ms. Bella, are you all right?” George came running toward her. He stumbled to a halt beside her, trembling worse than she was.

“I’m fine, George.” She brushed off her shoulders. She had a nasty scrape on her right arm but it could have been worse, a lot worse.

She turned to watch Hank as he gunned the motor. Wrenching the steering wheel, he missed the little white Honda parked in front of him by a hairs breath. The motor whined as the truck went fishtailing down the street.

Blurb:

Isabella Tremaine's credo is always look your best even when you're running from the bad guys.

This modern Southern Belle has an ancient secret. Bella, as Isabella is known to her friends, is the possessor of a primeval amulet empowered by the gods with creativity and beauty, and this spunky blonde has an abundance of both. Unfortunately a madman has discovered Bella's secret and is determined to gain possession of the amulet, even if he must kill her to do so. It will take every wile in Bella's formidable arsenal of tricks to outwit the megalomaniac who is after her.

At the same time the madman is trying to steal her amulet, a ranch hand is trying to steal her heart. Bella is determined to not only stay alive but to keep her size five stilettos foot loose and fancy free. Who will prove the greater danger? The madman who wants her amulet or the ranch hand who wants her heart?

It's about Time

Not - "It's about time you turned up to blog," or "It's about time you carried out the trash," etc. It's about that mysterious element that runs our lives. TIME. I am late blogging to-day. It's 2.28 pm in Victoria. I've been on the go since I got up at seven this morning. I have nearly run out of time!

Dumb me wakened in the night and decided to write about Time. I thought and thought about all the phrases we use about Time. I'm behind time. I've lost time. Time to move on. "A time to reap and a time to sow..." Timely. Time is of the essence. Time out of mind. Take time. He/she gave me a bad time. There are lots more but I went back to sleep.

Our lives are fragmented into seconds, minutes and hours. "Keep track of time, Anita, or you'll be late for the ballet." Yes, I'm going to Ballet Jazz with a friend this evening. Much to do before I leave the house. I'm a timely person. If I'm to pick you up at a certain time I'll be parked out on the street five minutes before the agreed upon time. But my friend, Helen, with whom I'm going to the ballet is the most untimely person in the world. She'll come running up to the car. "Sorry, I'm late. I got caught on a phone call and lost track of time." I love her dearly and put up with this flaw in her character.

To end this jumble of timely things, I'll quote a few lines from Andrew Marvell's poem, To His Coy Mistress. "Had we but world enough, and time, This coyness, Lady, were no crime. We would sit down and think which way, To walk and pass our long love's day..." The poem is so seductive. Here are a few lines. "But at my back I always hear, Time's winged chariot hurrying near;And yonder all before us lie, Deserts of vast eternity..." So he coaxes her into making love and what better way to use time. It's a gorgeous poem.

Not to lose out on promoting my time travel, Ring Around The Moon, releasing on April 8, here's the cover for you to gaze upon.

Go to www.anitabirt.com for lots of information about me and my books.

I have run out of blogging time and must leave you now. Enjoy the week-end. I hope the sun shines where you are.

Anita

Why is blogging so $%^&*( Hard???

Blogging to me is a trial. A tribulation. Hard work. A Punishment.

Now that is really strange, cause I can write over one hundred sixty thousand words about worlds, heroines, heroes, villains, and monsters. I can write about sex. I can write about torment, joy, mourning, and birth. I can write about universes, space ships, sword fights, and brawls. I can write just about anything far out imaginary and beyond belief.

But writing a blog about ordinary things is next to impossible for me. I get to the blog screen and I am brain dead. If I were writing a novel it would be called writer's block.

But if you are interested in my worlds of wonder and imagination, then I will give you an excerpt of my novel Prophecy of Vithan which is available at www.cerridwenpress.com.

Morgan lowered her eyes to the phaser for only a second. She looked at Len, somber. She locked eyes with him. Her hands quietly in her lap. If Len shot, at this range, she'd be dead. If he moved his eyes away from hers, distracted for even a micro-second, she could knock the phaser off target. She might be wounded, but not dead. The crawler had made its way twenty feet toward the surface. She'd survive the fall. Her breathing receptacle needed filling. She wasn't breathing raggedly, yet. It would be close. The alternative would be to attack Len. She didn't want to attack him. It would be dangerous, exhausting and, well truth be told, she liked his kisses.
"So, is it?" Len asked again.
"What's funny," Morgan answered, not wavering from looking into Len's eyes, "Is Vespasian telling the Prots such a story. If I thought I could do it, I would kill Vespasian in a heartbeat. I had no reason to kill the King or the Queen. Why would I kill Khai? I killed two men and fought you to keep him alive. Does it make sense I would now try to kill him? I want Vespasian dead, more than you can imagine. However, he's too strong. His mental powers are too strong for me. I can't even keep him from touching me."
"You told the King you would rather see Khai dead than under the Regent's care."
"If I thought Khai would be under Vespasian's care and I could not stop it, yes, I would kill Khai to save him from destruction. But the kill would be fast and surgical. I wouldn't bother with killing Khai's friends, his bodyguards and Billy, my friend." Morgan inhaled raggedly. Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke. "Len, if you think I killed those people, shoot me. I'm tired of trying to fight this battle any more." Morgan lowered her head. Her disheveled black hair fell forward covering her eyes. Her shoulders shook with a sob.
"Morgan, I…" Len said softly. He let his hand holding the phaser drop slightly. He leaned toward her.
Morgan snatched the phaser from Len's hand. She swung and backhanded the Protector across the face. She swiveled inside the seat belt. Raising her leg, she planted her boot in the middle of Len's stomach. She pointed the phaser, still set to kill, at Len. "So, it is true, you killed -"
"I killed nobody, tonight. I don't like having a phaser pointed at me." Morgan pressed the phaser switch, turning off the gun. She opened the crawler window and tossed the phaser out. She kept Len at bay with her boot. "Vespasian killed the King and the Queen, and wounded himself. He's the one who killed Billy and the kids. I'd lay you odds on it. If you searched the area, you'd find molecular proof. He's too careful to leave any actual DNA around."
Len pushed against Morgan's boot.
Morgan pushed back, slamming him against the crawler door. "You have a choice. You can promise you will not fight with me and drive this thing to the surface, so we can find Khai. Or, we can fight and one of us will fall out of this thing. I notice your seat belt is not fastened. Even if you do push me out, I'll survive the fall. Will you? Humans seem very fragile. You've been unconscious twice this evening. Want to go for three?"

Coming this Friday from Ellora's Cave

Teach Me (The Hierophant)
A Torrid Tarot Novel
By Cindy Spencer Pape
Available this Friday, March 14 at Ellora’s Cave:
http://www.ellorascave.com/AuthorsBooks.asp?AuthorCode=CSPa

Blurb:
The Hierophant generally appears in life in the form of a teacher or mentor. He’s wise but can be stubborn to the point of disaster, especially if his beliefs are called into question. Galen Forsythe believes the traditions and tenets of academia to be an almost sacred trust. So when he is hopelessly attracted to a brilliant young graduate student, he fights against it for three long years. Lydia has been in love with Galen, her Hierophant, from day one. When she’s targeted by an ancient demon determined to escape its prison, Galen has to learn to let go of logic and tradition and trust in the power of love to save her.



ADULT Excerpt:


“You planning to stay here all night?”

Lydia shrieked and spun in her chair. The movement yanked the ear buds out of her ears. She heard Galen’s soft laughter at almost the same time she registered his sandalwood scent.



“You’re back!”



“I am. Can I take this to mean you missed me?”



A quick glance to her right told her that her door was shut. She’d covered the window in it with a poster the first day here so that when she closed it no one could see in. Originally that had been for security purposes since she worked with valuable materials but now she could think of another advantage.



“You can.” Her arms wrapped around his waist and she squeezed, pressing her face into his stomach. “How was the conference?”



“The usual.” He slipped his hands under her arms and pulled her to her feet for a long satisfying kiss. She wound her arms around his throat and opened for him, pressing her body full-length along his. She could feel his erection prodding into her stomach and she shimmied against it. She could already feel her panties getting wet beneath her broomstick-style skirt and her nipples ached where they rubbed against his solid chest.



“Usual what?” She gasped for air and smiled at him when their lips finally drew apart. He sat on the desk and drew her down into his lap.



“Usual bad food, boring talks and annoying networking, all for ten minutes worth of really useful information.” He nibbled on the point where her neck met her shoulder while his hands toyed with the sides of her breasts through her summer-weight sweater and satin bra.



“Which is why we all go to the stupid things.” She sighed and tipped her head to give him greater access while her own hand slid up under his golf shirt.



“Umm-hmm.” His tongue swirled around her ear. “And remind me next time to make sure I sign up for one my department chair isn’t going to.”



“Oh that had to be fun.” She shifted a little to bring his palm to her swollen nipple, then whimpered when he found it and pressed down.



“Loads.” He nipped her ear lobe then turned his attention to getting his hand beneath her bra.





“Lord, I missed this!” His voice dropped so no one could hear them beyond the thin office walls.


He squeezed her breasts gently and chuckled. “Missed these too.”



“Yeah they missed you too,” she whispered back. He shoved her bra up out of the way and massaged both tips, making her arch into his hands. “Did you lock the damn door when you came in?”



“Do I look stupid?” One hand left her breast to go questing down past the elastic waistband of her skirt. “Of course I locked the door.”

Do you have visions?

From Visions of Darkness, released tomorrow by The Lotus Circle

Do you have visions?

Mia Fleming does and she wishes she hadn’t been born with what some call a gift and she considers a curse. This week The Lotus Circle will release Visions of Darkness, the second in my Phoenix Agency books and the follow up to Always On My Mind We meet Phoenix’s powerful CEO and Mia Fleming, who finds herself battling her psychic powers .
It wouldn’t be so bad if the visions always came to her in a timely fashion. Or if they were clear and easy to interpret. But too many times she’s carried messages that were wrong or came to late to help anyone. It raised a high level of skepticism with the police and others, and a burning frustration within herself.
She tries to focus on her position as an art historian for a museum, a job that requires a great deal of concentration and research and one she hopes will provide an effective block to her precognition. But after a long period of freedom from the visions, she is suddenly bombarded by them and they might as well be written in code for as much as she understands.
She’s smart enough, however, when she can’t push them away, to ask a friend to help her identify what she’s seeing and that leads her to send anonymous messages to Carpenter Electronics, warning them that their very secret new high tech project is about to be stolen. Dan Romeo, CEO of the low profile but powerful Phoenix Agency is called in by Chase Carpenter to find the sources of the warnings, and the trail leads him to Mia.
The electricity generated at their first meeting is enough to light of downtown San Antonio, but Mia shies away from personal involvements and Dan definitely has a rule about involvements in a case. But as Mia’s visions increase in violence and intensity and her life is threatened, as they work together to find the person planning the theft and the ones who have already killed three people, there’s no way they can deny what’s evolved between them.
Here’s a little taste of the book for you.
No. I’m tired. That’s all that’s wrong.
Mia Fleming put aside the art book lying open on her desk, closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She’d just been staring at the photo of the Da Vinci painting too long, that was all. As art historian and assistant curator at the DeWitt Museum, she was immersed in research for the private collection due to arrive at the museum next month. Part of her job was to gather information for the brochures that were printed and the press kits they distributed. And as usual, she’d been overdoing it.
Shoving her long brown hair, the color of rich chocolate, back behind her ears, she pulled the book forward and began to study the page again. And there it was. Just as before. Shimmering in the center of the photo of the Da Vinci painting. An ugly rock that looked like a misshapen lump of clay, bumping along, wobbling back and forth, with a pair of hands reaching for it. Then nothing except the original picture, undisturbed.
God, not again. Please, please, please. Choose someone else, okay?
Why did she have to be the one these things happened to? Why did she have to have what her grandmother called a “special gift”? More like a curse than a blessing, she often said.
But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the book. The image on the page kept shifting, first the photo of the painting, now that stupid little rock with its jerky movements. Finally, the shadow hands reaching for it. Like a broken record, the vision continued to repeat itself over and over again, taunting her to find its hidden meaning.
Mia slammed the book shut and shoved it away from herself. It was just like always. How on earth was she supposed to figure out what the vision meant? A rock was a rock, right?

One Good Man in Print!

It finally happened and Cindy and I are ecstatic! One Good Man released in print. This is the first in our urban legend books, with more planned in the future. We knew that it would be coming out this spring and were anticipating it! Now it is finally here. So if you missed it as an ebook or were just waiting for it to be out in print, now is your chance to pick up this fantastic read.

A taste of One Good Man to wet your appetite.
One Good Man
Lacey Thorn and Cindy Spencer Pape

One of the most enduring of all urban legends is the story of the phantom hitchhiker. Young or old, male or female, in need of help or just needing a ride, the legends vary. A helpful driver offers a ride and the passenger gives directions. When they arrive at the destination however, the driver discovers the passenger has vanished, sometimes leaving behind a piece of clothing or some other memento to mark his or her passing. A stormy night, a deserted country road, a blown tire, and a woman on the run from a killer. Is the handsome young Marine here to save her? Or is he just a figment of her imagination?
Casey is caught between a murderer, a ghost and the wounded soldier who could either save her life or break her heart. Grant can deal with Thanksgiving snowstorms and determined killers but not his brother’s ghost, and not a woman who makes him start thinking about the future. Can Grant let go of the past to embrace the explosive passion he finds with Casey? He’s willing to risk his life for hers, but what about his heart?

Excerpt:Casey jumped out of bed suddenly deciding that she needed the comfort of her own clothes on instead of Grant’s shirt and her panties. She was just bending over to pick up her stuff when she heard a deep groan from behind her. She turned and there was Grant filling the doorway with his big frame. His gaze zeroed in on her breasts and she blushed even as she felt her nipples harden and press against the cotton of his shirt. Her gaze dropped to his jeans and there was no missing the prominent bulge behind the fly of his Levis.
He started toward her and she noticed the glass of water in his hand. It was a paper cup she seemed to recall from the bathroom which explained why he was back so quickly. He stopped when he was in front of her, so close that she could feel the heat radiating from him.
“Drink,” he grunted and she grasped the cup and carried it to her mouth. She almost dropped it when she felt his knuckles graze the tips of her breasts. She did drop it when he pinched both nipples and pulled on them.
Casey moaned as the sensation speared her from breasts to belly and all the way down. God she wanted him.
“Damn,” she heard him mutter before he locked gazes with her and stated bluntly, “I want you Casey. I want to throw you across my bed and take you hard.”
Casey shivered with her own carnal need. It had been a long time and something about Grant increased her need, her hunger. “What’s stopping you?” she tossed out before sitting on the bed and reclining back on her elbows. Her knees draped over the side and he spread them wide with his body when he stepped between them.
“I don’t like people wearing my stuff Casey,” Grant stated matter-of-factly nodding at his shirt plastered against her chest. Since he’d already said he didn’t care, she recognized the command as purely sexual. “Take it off.”
Casey couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at her lips as she caught the hem and pulled the shirt up and over her head. She tossed it behind her and leaned back once more letting him look his fill of her breasts. She could tell he liked them by the lust that flared in his eyes.
“Now the panties,” Grant ordered.
“Are they yours too?” Casey said with a laugh that made him growl. She reached down and eased the bikinis over her hips and down her legs hooking them on one foot before extending it out to Grant as an offering.
Grant took the panties and she gasped when he carried them up to his face and inhaled deeply. It was more erotic than she would have ever imagined to see him breathing holding her arousal soaked undies to his nose. She rubbed her legs together feeling more moisture seep from her slit to coat her thighs.
“Open your legs and show me how much you want me.” He stuffed the undies into his front pocket then proceeded to unbutton the dark flannel shirt he was wearing.
She spread her legs wide and lay back on the bed enjoying the view just as much as his expression said that he was. He had a deep grey thermal shirt under the flannel that made his eyes appear almost silver in the soft light. She brought her hands up to her breasts and pinched lightly at her nipples making them both groan. He pulled the thermal up and over his chest and Casey shivered at the sight of his naked chest covered in a light peppering of blondish brown hair that thickened in a line from belly to the top of his jeans. She knew it was pointing the way to the Promised Land.
“We’re still going to talk later, Casey.” Grant flicked open the top snap on his jeans. “You’re not going to leave ‘til I get some damn answers.”
“Whatever you say.” Casey was willing to agree to anything as she watched his hand finally reach for the zipper and pull it down.

Hope this gets you interested enough to pick up your copy of One Good Man today. Just follow the link below!
http://www.jasminejade.com/p-3938-one-good-man.aspx?skinid=11

Lacey Thorn
Your world...unlaced