blog

How Do You Console Someone You've Only Met On-line

Wed, 11 Jan 2012 23:20:14 +0100

When I met Lisa, over at a popular book reviewing site, I had no idea how close we'd become. I can tell you this in all honesty...I truly believe we are sisters from different mothers. She is one of the people I have met in life that I can say I feel like that about. We share so many of the same thoughts, ideas, likes, and dislikes. I make her nutty, and she makes me laugh. I go to her with my everyday life issues, and she comes to me. We are as open and as honest as two people can be. We hold very little back from one another. This is necessary in our relationship because not only is she my very best friend, she is my editor. She is also, though she'll deny this, my inspiration for a lot of my work. She is my solid rock wall, my friend that will give it to me in black and white and does it without being mean or spiteful. She looks out for my best interest. She tries to protect me like any loving sister would. She has no problems telling me what I'm doing is wrong, or off, or that I need to reconsider a particular idea, or even something that I get into that eventually lands me into trouble. Does she get angry with me? Sure she does. But she never turns away from me. She is what I call a true friend. Here for me through the good and the bad. We separate the parts of ourselves that put us as writer/editor when we aren't doing either and during that time we either cry on each others shoulders or laugh it all away until whatever has us in a spunk goes the hell away. Many times I set aside the writing, and she set aside the editing, just so we could hang out. Those are the best of times for us.

Recently Lisa found out some tough news concerning her blood sister who has been going through a hell of a time herself. She's been diagnosed with a cancer that is killing her and that damn thing is stealing a life, and taking away a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a mother, and a wife. She was recently given two options from her doctors. 1- Go to hospice and let go. Give up and let that damn cancer claim her life or 2- Go to the hospital for 30 days and undergo intense treatments to try to take her body back. It didn't take long for her and her husband to pick the 2nd one. She is not ready to give up. She is not done living. But this procedure alone could end her life.

Lisa recently wrote a post on this painful journey and when I read it, I sat at my computer and I cried. Not only for Lisa, but for her sister, for the family and then I cried for me because I have recently come across some medical issues of my own that I'm battling through. My thing, though dangerous, isn't anything like what Lisa's sister is facing and I was ashamed of myself for being so down these past two weeks when that poor lady in AZ is fighting for just one more day. How could I in all my selfishness: im, text, email Lisa at all hours with my fears when she was facing the hell she is on her own. Though she tries to hide it, she tries to not let it consume her every waking moment, it is there. How can it not be?

Lisa is a hell of a strong lady, and I admire the hell out of her. As I sat and read that post, I had Lisa on IM, as that is how we talk most of the time, and I said, that is deep. She replied. "Yeah, I'm a mess right now, M." I broke. And at that point I think I am almost relieved she couldn't see me, because we'd be a hot mess ya know?

With Lisa and I it just takes a simple email or text: I am missing you. And we jump on IM and we chat all day long, well into the night. We laugh, we mess around looking for hot guys online, for jokes, for anything to entertain ourselves. Sadly, we don't have the option to just head over to each others house to just be there. To give a real hug to, to wipe those real tears away, to just sit there next to one another and say nothing, but comforted because we know. We can't have coffee sitting side by side, we can's share that huge bar of dark chocolate. But we do on-line. We each make coffee, grab that chocolate and we share that way. We sit in silence on IM, and we know we're there, but it's not the same.

I can type all day long how sorry I am, I can text till I'm blue in the face, I can email until my fingers fall off, but it'll never be the same as holding that person in your arms to give them the strength they need during difficult times. On-line relationships can be intense. I know this for a fact. I am close to few and to the few I am close to, will agree with me. There are times you just need that physical closeness of your closest friends. You too have someone(s) you're very close to, so you understand. On-line I am who I am in person. I'm more reserved on-line though, in person I'm a bit different. But I go with this: this is who I am, insecurities, not at all perfect, sometimes argumentative, very passionate about what I do, very protective over the characters I have in my head and guess what? Lisa is just as protective of them as I am. That warms my heart.

But all in all, I have a good heart and almost always willing to help anyone out who comes to me and I am busy as all hell. I'm a writer, a reader, a reviewer, a mom, grandmom, a wife. If you get it, you get it. Lisa, she gets it. She knows the amount of hours I put into creating a story for people to read, and she spends countless hours editing those stories. She knows the time it takes to read the amount of books we read and get reviews ready for the site. We are a team, we work well together, and I do believe we will do this until we're 93. In whatever fashion.

I also run a review site that Lisa had to leave, due to the daily stress it creates. Lord knows my girl has enough. I will miss her there terribly. I already miss her.

Lisa is a forever friend. She's been with me and held me up after a rather difficult loss of a friend I once had. Lisa stepped up and she protected me with everything she had. Just as I would do her. Only she is the one who keeps things where they belong. She has scolded me several times. I swear I'm a brat. And she has the patience of Jobe. When we log off for the night and we say: I love you. I mean that. I know she means it back. Three little words, but mean so much when they are used with truth.

And right now, I am stepping up to the plate, not that I haven't before for her, but I am stepping up to the plate to be her rock, to be her light in this hell she finds herself. And can you believe, that after all the time I've known this sweet girl that I haven't ever met her in person? On-line relationships. Yes, people tell you to be leery of them, one never knows who it is on the other end of the conversation but let me tell you something. IF Lisa were an alien from Saturn, I would care less. I adore her to pieces. We have arranged to meet each other this summer in New York. If all goes well, we shall do just that. And I suspect New York won't know what the hell hit them because we do plan on having the fun we need to have.

Lisa.....I love you! And you hold on and when you need me, I'll be here, standing by you forever.

A Writer and Her Characters

Sun, 20 Nov 2011 02:54:27 +0100

A Writer and her Characters

As far back as I can remember, I have had an ongoing relationship with a few of my characters. Ones derived from my imagination, from the time I was a young adult, possibly before then. It wasn’t that I didn’t have plenty of friends or suffered from a social anxiety disorder, I just had a very active imagination and I needed more to fulfill my idle time, I guess. I can remember playing with my Barbies, and I’m not talking just a few at a time. I’m talking a whole room full of them and all their accessories, including the cars, the horses, the pets, all of it. And my goodness, I created a whole world with them. I was busy for weeks on the same storyline and I think I started that when I was five or six. I had a huge collection that I saved and passed on to my own daughter, and she to hers, not that I ever witnessed her getting into their lives the way I did. Anyway, as time went on, and I got too old to sport the Barbies, the stories in my head continued to grow and my characters were anything but Barbies. These characters became entities in their own right. They all look different, they act different, and they talk different. Yet, they are all a part of me. Making me a very diverse individual with an amazing imagination. A very visual one at that. How awesome is it to allow one’s mind to just float and see these characters living and talking and doing life. If it hasn’t happened to you, all I can say is that it’s amazing. It’s almost as if you take a trip to another time, place, or, maybe, are watching a movie.

Now, sure, a writer will introduce dozens of characters to their readers, and each of them, all hold a special place in their creators’ hearts. They are all loved or disliked according to their actions by the creator. However, the one thing that simply flabbergasts me is how a certain few characters are born and how they attach themselves to their creator and not for just a little while. These characters become a part of the writer and remain with them for a lifetime. What intrigues me is this: a writer brings their character to the table and a story is born. The writer gives that character or characters the free rein to tell their tale, the writer being more or less the reporter of the events they see taking place within their minds. The characters take over and the story is being jotted down, word after word, page after page, and chapter after chapter, and the writer is doing all they can to keep up with what they see. And hoping they are doing the characters justice. Before they know it, they have a full novel sitting there on the screen before them, or in notebooks scattered about the room and labeled one, two, three…etc. No time for a title on each, though, all there’s time for is getting those scenes you’re seeing in your head out of it, giving your characters life. I know it to be true because I’ve done it. I have well used notebooks in boxes and under my bed. I have documents saved all over the place. And in all of them, are my creations. My characters just waiting for me and my attention. Waiting for their turn for their story to be told. Now, as I conquer a story, the characters in them become quiet as their story has been told; however, there are some who never quiet. There are some who become so real and so vibrant that I swear I am more than just one person. My characters are alive within me, and they have worth. They are a part of me. Now, please don’t take me wrong, I’m not suffering from a multiple personality disorder, or maybe I am, but I am able to distinguish real life from the fantasy life that I get lost in on a day to day basis along with my characters.

And this leads me to an interesting topic that came up between me and my other half. He said, “I swear there are some days I have married Sybil’s sister.” I looked at him, with what was probably a blank expression, and asked what he meant. Calmly he said, “Well, there are some days when I come in from work and you’re happy and smiling and joking around, and there are other days when I come in and you’re upset and angry and in a very serious mood.” I nodded at him and looked away and grinned. He stood there for a bit, and sauntered off, figuring he’d get no response. Now, I could have taken that with a shake of salt and continued on with what I was doing. I could have dismissed it as being a “woman.” But I didn’t. Because each time he noticed a change in my personality, it was when I was working with a certain group of characters. I had to sit down and I had to think. Was I suffering from a disorder or were my characters that strong. I attributed it to both. Really. And this is why. I am obsessed with my characters, with a handful of them anyway. I mean, they all mean something to me, but it’s just with this certain group that I feel as if I’m a fierce lioness protecting her cubs from danger. That’s not to say they don’t find danger on their own, in their own world, but I’m here in this one protecting them and guiding them as best as I can to help them tell their story for the first time. These certain characters have helped me through some difficult times in my life. They are a source of comfort to me. I refer to them when I need them. And yes, at the risk of maybe sounding a little crazy, I will sometimes say: What would…..do? And I sat some more and thought harder. And I wondered then, when he came in and pulled me out of the story as he so often does, much to my disapproval, what character I was writing for. When I write for them, I feel them and all their emotions to go along with them.

So, I went in search of him days later and I said, “When you got home today was I happy or angry?” He looked at me, his big blue eyes wide, and he said I was angry. I thought a bit and read over what I was writing and it hit me. I was writing for one of my Behind Blue Eyes characters. Torro. He was in the midst of an intense scene with his brother, with my all-time favorite character. TJ. (I’ll be doing a blog on TJ very soon.) So, getting back to where I was going, I get so vested in the characters’ lives that I actually take on what they’re feeling and sometimes, if I’m pulled out of the scene, that certain emotion, feeling, or ? comes with me. He disturbed me as I was focused in on Torro’s (many of you met him in Tony & Ryan and briefly in Caged and will soon see a bit more of him in Carl/Lucca’s story) POV, he dragged me out of that scene and the anger followed. Torro is an aggressive, torn soul in Behind Blue Eyes and that is who I was at that particular time. To date, he has met my comedian and TJ’s main supporter, best friend, and future lover, Benny. He’s met Torro on several occasions. He’s met TJ countless times, and he says he sees the difference in me with every different character I write for. I think he prefers Benny.

Interesting. I shrugged my shoulders and warned him as I smiled very sweetly at him. “Better watch how you act with me, you never know who you’ll come home to.” He looked at me, a bit of fear laced in his eyes, and he walked away mumbling something about Sybil.

So, I guess my question is, now, to the other writers out there. Do your characters manifest themselves in your lives? Has anyone in your life noticed and what do they say about it? And BTW: I am able to turn them off when I watch TV. So I don’t. Haha!

Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad

Mon, 10 Oct 2011 06:55:39 +0100

Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad?

Looking at my activity here on the blog shows that I’m probably the worst blogger there ever was. Generally I’m so busy I can’t even think by the end of the day, never mind write a blog, and if I do, it’s because something has managed to grab me and inspire me so much, that I have to make time to get it out and on paper, so to speak. It’s almost 11PM and something managed to grab me and inspire me enough to get it down and I hope when you read it, you’ll take it to heart, because I did.

“…How we all have to be together in this life, that we all are each other’s caretakers in this life and you never know if you’re gonna be the most important person in someone’s life.”

That sentence was quoted from someone I’ve never met. I’ll probably never meet the person, but I know of her. I know that it was part of her speech that she gave during her wedding reception. And I also know the person it was spoken for. I know what it was about and when I heard that speech, something inside me perked up and said, write it. And I had to wipe away a few tears to do it.

The lovely lady who gave that speech is alive today, on her wedding day, because someone saved her life. Someone who, for six years insisted that what he did wasn’t that big a deal. He refused to see how his actions led to saving her life. It was due to his concern and his warm and loving caring heart that she’s alive to kiss her bride on her wedding day.

She called him her hero, many people have but he never saw it, he never felt it. He did what came to mind, he reached out and because he cares he saved her. He became her most important person in her life. It took him six years to see how his caring actions affected others. He never really grasped the fact that he is the one responsible for that lovely lady’s life. He never got it, until today when that blessed lady stood up and gave her speech.

In that speech she told everyone in the room how he saved her life. She took ill one day at work during a meeting and went home early and when she didn’t show up the day after, he grew concerned for his manager, so much so that when his texts and calls went unanswered he called another manager and his partner to go check on her. He was unable to get away from work but his constant worry and persistence bled off onto others who finally agreed to go to her house just so he’d leave them alone. They found her unconscious and near death. Thankfully he is determined and demanding and thankfully his partner and the other friend got there when they did. The doctor told him later that if she had gone untreated for much longer in the condition she was in, she would have died without proper medical attention. He is a hero.

Did I mention he also has a six sense? Most times he curses it, he can’t stand it because it takes a lot out of him but what a blessing that turned out to be. He was there to witness her union, her marriage and that in itself is truly remarkable.

When you look at that quote above, we all have to be together in this life, it’s true. It’s powerful. We are each other’s caretakers and you never know— maybe one day you’ll be the most important person in someone’s life. Perhaps you’ll save the next President, or maybe your future friend, or your child’s teacher, or? This is infinite. The possibilities are endless. How can we spend so much time hating and fighting when we’re all we have? We need one another, and not as enemies. And we need more hero’s, like my friend, Seth.

Living Through The Loss Of A Pet

Mon, 02 May 2011 01:02:56 +0100

Living Through The Loss Of A Pet

Very recently a very close and dear friend lost someone very special to him. She was in his life a long time and she was treated like royalty. He and his partner, were great daddy’s to her and she had the best of the best living with them. And sadly she had to be put down. He’s in an enormous amount of pain over this loss and it’s one I understand all too well. As much as I wish I could run to him, wrap him in my arms and cry with him I can’t, not yet anyway, and until I can, I can only say that I do indeed feel his hurts and pains, the deep pain and sorrow in his heart, in both their hearts.

One of the hardest phrases I heard when I lost my Ridge was: “I’m so sorry.” Then came the—“It’ll get better as time goes on.” And I could only look at the person and nod. I didn’t dare open my mouth, because then that lump in my throat would burst, and the constant burning behind my eyes would find relief and I’d begin to sob all over again. I’m not talking about a simple cry where my red puffy eyes watered up and spill over down my tear stained cheeks. No, I out and out sobbed. Sobs that came from the bottom of my stomach taking what strength I had right out of me leaving me a flippen emotional mess. I didn’t give thought to how I was behaving because I didn’t care. Call me a drama queen, because you know, maybe I was. All I know is that the pain I felt in my body was awful and something I didn’t want to feel, not at any point.

Someone made a remark after Ridge died, something along the lines of: He was just a dog. Let me tell you that it took all I had to keep myself rooted where I was and not release a barrage of hate onto that person. I’m not a fighter but that day I’m pretty sure I would have beaten that person to a bloody pulp without a care in the world. I looked at that tiny minded individual, the tears streaming down my face, shook my head in sadness, because that person had never known the love of a pet, and walked away. Our relationship became strained and ultimately we stopped talking. I just couldn’t find it in my heart to overlook the callousness that person had towards a loving animal. I’m not sorry for it.

Animals are amazing and intelligent, and they love and that is what makes them so awesome. And often I prefer the company of my companions (pets) to some people I know. I wanted to write this today to help my friend through his loss, it’s the only way I know how to help him. He needs to know he’s not alone and it’s okay to grieve, to cry, to get mad, to do all of it. I did, I still do, to this day.

My Ridge:

I lost my sweet special Ridge when he was only seven. He was my best friend, my companion, the one dog I connected with on a higher level than that of a master and her pet. He was my best friend. I bought him when he was just 9 weeks old from a couple in the mountains here in Colorado. We arranged to meet them at a small country store with the litter, and we were to pick one of the pups out. I can remember that event as if it happened yesterday. It still brings tears to my eyes, that knot in my throat and the urge to cry, not sob because that was a happy day for me. The lady took three fluffy fuzzy Golden Retrievers out of her car and me and my hubby were all over loving them. We picked each boy up, looked into their eyes, hugging them and praising them over and over. Then her husband said something like: There's one more, he's a bit cheaper because he's different. I looked at my hubby and smiled, of course I wanted to see the "different" pup. I have a heart for the ones no one seems to want you know? So, the man reached in his car and turned to us with this pup in his hands. He was wiggling around wanting down and the man placed him on the ground and that pup ran right to me, into my arms and I picked him up, he had the prettiest caramel colored eyes I’d ever seen— and never let him go. I held him tight against me, whispered in his ear that he was mine and our search for a pup was over.

So, you're wondering why or what made this pup different. Where as most Retrievers are fuzzy furry pups full of hair— my Ridge was not. He had very thin hair all over his body, he had a patch that went across his head where he had no hair at all, his chest almost hairless but he had the prettiest eyes. I will never forget those eyes. You know I never asked why this pup was the way he was, I didn’t care one iota, all I knew was that my heart found love instantly and I’d like to think so did Ridge’s.

However the man did tell us that Ridge’s mother had a horrible labor with this group of pups and had to be rushed to the vet during delivery. Ridge was the pup caught up some where in her body that he shouldn’t have been. How he survived that was beyond the Vet’s guess but he did and I was the lucky one to adopt him. The couple looked at us as if we were crazy because we chose him over the others from the litter. I held that baby in my lap all the way down the mountain and he never offered to move, he was as content as I was. The name Ridge came out of looking at the side of the mountain, and it fit him to a Tee.

Ridge was so smart, he was happy and full of puppy energy. I taught him how to open and close the door, how to bring the paper to me, how to lay at my feet when I was working without a peep. He was amazing and made me so happy and proud. He was trained to guard me and did a wonderful job because at his full size he weighed in at 120LBS—he was huge. He filled my life with happiness and laughter with his antics.

We also bought my oldest son his own dog, a little Wigfur—he was a Yorkie. We used to live in these town homes here in Colorado, and when I had to work and the pups needed out, we didn't have a yard so I bought a long lead line and hooked the pups up to take care of business. Ridge only used his lead for a week I believe. From then on he knew where his boundaries were to take care of his business and never offered to leave his area unless he was on a leash and we took a walk. However, that little Wigfur dog was a runner. That crazy dog would take off every chance he got and there we’d be running after his crazy little self. Don’t you know it was my Ridge who chased that dog down, tackled him, and held him down with his huge paw until one of us caught up with them? There were times we actually remembered to pick the little dog up to take him to his lead, he never learned not to run either. Anyway, little Wigfur would be put on that lead and Ridge would be in the yard keeping watch I guess, but there were times when Ridge would take a hold of that lead, stand in the center of the yard and spin that little dog around!! It was hysterical. We laughed so hard each and every time...all you'd see was Ridge holding that cable in his teeth and twirling this little 5 lb Wigfur around in circles! Those little ears straight up and wizzing by us. OH I miss those times.

We were told that Ridge was compared to a downs syndrome child. The hair never grew on his sensitive skin...he needed special oils and lotions and sun block...we feared skin cancer. His teeth were crooked, those big canines didn't just grow straight down one was crooked and his bottom ones needed braces. But it did not slow him down. Not in the least. He was my boy...my best friend, the only dog I ever had that I considered my equal...

I lost Ridge in April of 2006. He woke up one morning, his breathing was horrible, he was not at all active, not interested in food or water...he was sick. I rushed him to the vet. It was the two of us, me in a full panic because he looked absolutely horrible and he lay in the back seat breathing so heavy. I remember it all too well. I had never been so scared to be the only human ya know? My hubby was at work and the kids were out and about so it was me and Ridge in that waiting room. They took him for x-rays and left me on my own to face my pain and fear alone. I managed to locate my husband and he sped out of work to get to us as fast as he could. I cried in that waiting room, waiting for him to get there to keep me from literally losing it. The Vet came in the room with a chart in his hand and a vial of blood. I stared at that vial, and the Vet started talking and I kept asking him to repeat himself because I wasn’t getting it. I asked him to bring me Ridge, I needed him as much as he needed me. Then my husband was there and I was in his arms, the sobs racking through my body as the Vet told us Ridge was dying. His organs were shutting down and there wasn’t anything they could do. They suggested I put him down immediately.

I was left with little choice...My boy was suffering. I was given one last chance to see him and when I did and looked into those caramel eyes of his, he told me he had to go, he asked me to let him go.

I had him cremated on his own so that I could keep his ashes. The staff at the office took his paw print for me as mementos of him. I don't remember much after that. It was as if a part of my heart had been ripped from my chest and left with my Ridge. We had no idea he was sick, and that is what hurt the most. If I would have known, I could have possibly saved him, gotten him help sooner and I beat myself up for that and I do to this day. The Vet said that Ridge was sick for sometime but he hid it from us. Can you believe that? That sweet boy, until the day he died, protected me.

The Christmas after my boy died my daughter-in-law gave me a picture of him in a pose we all loved but didn’t think anyone had a picture of. I opened that present and though the gift was meant in love, it tore me to pieces. I wasn’t prepared and once again, the sobs tore me up. She felt so bad and I did as well. I didn’t mean to hurt her, she didn’t mean to hurt me but it happened. I have that picture, his ashes, his paw print all on a shelf in the dining room. He is still with me and each morning I smile and tell him hello and that I love him. I still cry over my loss, I’m crying now and sometimes I laugh at the silly things he did. I know that after all these years I’ll never get over it, though I’m living with the pain on a day to day basis where I’m not sobbing anymore when I think of him, I can’t help but to tear up. It just happens.

Since his death I adopted three other Golden’s. Two of them we gave to this guy on a farm, they were just huge dogs, and we couldn’t keep them in an apartment. The third pup I adopted was a female, her name is Abby, and she’s a sweet girl. She’s my princess, very well trained, a tad bit too submissive but I guess that goes along with my strong personality. She loves me, and I love her but it’s not the love I had for Ridge, the love I have for him. There will never be another Ridge. I look at his picture and thank God for gifting us with one of his own pets for the seven years he was with us. The Vet who saw him as a pup told us he wouldn’t live to see four or five. Ridge beat those odds.

So, in closing, my friend, the pain will lessen, but it’ll never go away I’m not going to lie to you. You’ll miss her but you’ll go on. We really aren’t left with a choice. She is walking among the angels and that is what kept me together upon the loss of Ridge.

For you my friend: I love you.

Her Journey's Just Begun

Don't think of her as gone away-
her journey's just begun
life holds so many facets-
this earth is only one
Just think of her as resting
from the sorrows and the tears
in a place of warmth and comfort
where there are no days and years
Think how she must be wishing
that we could know today
how nothing but our sadness
can really pass away
And think of her as living
in the hearts of those she touched...
for nothing loved is ever lost
and she was loved so much!
Ellen Brenneman

And here we go again

Mon, 07 Mar 2011 06:16:29 +0100

These past few weeks have been chaotic. There really isn’t another word that can possibly describe the highs and lows that I encountered over this period of time. I’m still trying to learn time management and let me say that has to be one of the hardest lessons I’ve encountered in a long time. I did a post on time some time ago so I’m not going into the time thing again. I really just wanted to talk about:

1) March 1st marked our review site’s 1st year anniversary. And that celebration was amazing! The authors who all pitched in and donated copies of their books, the two publishing sites who donated $25.00 g.c.’s, the readers comments, all of it made it for a wonderful party. Jeff, Lisa, Lydia, Kathy, and I feel appreciated and we plan on being here a long time doing what we love best.

http://michelenjeff-reviews.blogspot.com/

2) March 1st also marked my first year on my job. I know it’s not a record or anything but I never thought I’d be in the industry I am for six months, never mind a year. I was hired p.t. as an assistant and worked 3 days a week. I loved it! Just loved it. Then things went so wrong in such a short amount of time and I ended up becoming the full-time manager working 40 hours a week. That is NOT what I wanted to do. I had no interest in it but when the company I work for failed to find a new manager I was forced into action or quit the job and call it good. Because I require income, I could not quit so I stepped into the roll as site manager and wow, my head is ready to explode.

3) Lies of Omission came out the first of the year as you know and it’s not connected with my Lethal Obsession series in any way, but it does have heavy D/s action, hot loving, angst and abuse in it…it’s an interesting 65 page story and Justin James from Conquest Reviews reviewed it and gave it a very high rating. I was and still am wowed over it. Then Justin contacted Lisa, and you all know who Lisa is, right? He asked her if I’d be interested in doing an interview with him. Well, I giggled when I heard that. Why? Think about it. I spend a lot of time getting other authors interviewed for our review Blog, but how many times have I been interviewed? Once, with Justin. And what did Justin do with all of that: He put it in his online e-magazine. In this magazine you’ll not only see the review and interview, you’ll see the cover to River of Tears, my first book, and if you click on that it’ll take you to the trailer I made for the book and wait…it doesn’t stop there…you’ll also see an area where you can vote for the best cover…and in that I have Lethal Obsession Caged!! If you have a minute will you please consider voting for it? Here’s the link:

http://www.wix.com/darempiremedia/imperialartisanaward/previouscontenders-copy1

If you’d like to read the magazine here you go:

http://www.wix.com/darempiremedia/conquestreviews and click on the bottom tab that says issues. You’ll see the cover of Lies of Omission up on the far left…click there and you’ll be reading the e-online magazine.

4) Hubby and I are headed to San Diego with a couple friends March 23rd for 5 whole days of sun and fun!! I can’t wait to get out of Denver for a while and away from the job.

5) In May I’m hoping for another book release, a month off from what Lisa and I originally planned but hey, it’s that time thing getting in the way. I’m blaming it totally on my evil day job.

6) Jeff and I made our hotel reservations for the fun in N.O. in October. We are going to have a blast…Yes; I know we are because when we get together that’s all we do have. No bad times allowed. I can’t wait to meet everyone. Though, because I’m so shy, and Jeff is as well, we’ll probably blend in with the wallpaper.

So, all in all this is a small taste of what’s going on with me. I continue to read and review as usual and continue to meet amazing people through it. Hugs!!!

Finally I found a moment!

Fri, 11 Feb 2011 03:21:41 +0100

Things have been frantically crazy lately in my life. And to think a little over a year ago I had so much time on my hands I was able to take a thirty minute shower! These days, it's been cut down to a whole 15 minutes. I have plans for the other 23.75 hours/minutes in my day. And that's the reason I'm sharing my news with you days late. I just haven't had time to tell you. I do have a few pieces of good news so keep reading.

1) On Superbowl Sunday my hubby and I welcomed our 4th grand child at 2:43AM. Did you see that? 2:43AM? What is that about? There are so many hours in the day and our little Anna decided that was the best time...EVER? Bless her sweet self. So, there we are on the other side of Denver in a nice hotel, sleeping, (we went to bed at 12:30AM) and the phone rings..."She's COMING! HURRY UP!" Riiight...who can think at that time of the morning with no sleep? NOT ME. Thank God for hubby...HE had a brain and led me along...we open the hotel door and BAM..we are welcomed with a blizzard! Did you notice I said up there ^ I said on the other side of town? I meant that. We really were. The hotel we booked for the weekend just happened to be up north...everything we do is down south...WHY were we up north? Well because a friend of ours booked it for us because we were too busy to stop for a few minutes to find a room closer to where we live and work and he lives up north. Besides he wanted us to hang out over the weekend. GREAT... So, hubby and I needed to pick up our other daughter in law so she can go to the hospital too, and thankfully she's up north. I believe we ran 2 red lights during that journey...and both of those times in front of COPS! The roads were horrid and they never even flashed us a light. We cruised down the freeway at an amazing speed of 30MPH. It took forever to get to the hospital. By the time we got back to the room it was 5:30AM and we went back to bed until 10...then we had to rush off to the store and buy baby a few gifts, get Superbowl foods and off to a party...my boys LOST btw. All in all a good day...

2) Lies of Omission was one of ten short stories chosen to be reviewed by Conquest Reviews and with all of the help from my sweet dear Lisa, she made the review happen. Last Friday night I received a message here at FB from Conquest stating they were offering to review ....and I was at that time in the midst of leaving my home to head to a hotel for an unknown amount of time due to a nasty, dirty, smelly 4 letter word: MOLD. I didn't have access or the head or the time to submit it so I asked Lisa if she would and she did and Conquest said YES! That is my second bit of news.I'll post the review below. I'm speechless.

3) Last Friday we were rushed out of our place with clothes, and little else due to MOLD in the bathroom. We lost all of our bathroom stuff, slippers, and other stuff due to that nasty stuff. We were put up in a hotel by our company until today when were received the green light to come back. I love hotels, but...there is a thing called: OVER KILL...I'm quite sick of being in a one room with the hubby for all those days. I needed air, space, freedom of speech...or something. So, that's the 3rd bit.

4) I was promoted this week. I've been doing the job of the site manager since mid July...by myself. I asked for no help, I was a trooper and marched along to the tune and making assistant wages. I learned a lot during that time and it's stuff I can use wherever I go. Bora Bora sounds so nice. Well, I had been waiting patiently for a new manager to show up, I asked a few times when they were going to hire one so I could go back to my nice peaceful part time hours...and my company looked and thought a few times they found the right person, but one look at the neighborhood these complexes are in, and those people RAN and never looked back. CHICKENS! I live and work here and nothings ever happened to me. Anyway, there's a lot of pressure and stress with that position. I've never worked any place with so much paperwork and then we deal with HUD and other government offices due to the subsidized housing, so it's a LOT of stuff to do...well I wanted to concentrate more on my writing but without a manager I had no choice but do it all. Finally, I had an emotional break down last week. I called my boss and instead of asking for help, I demanded it or I was giving notice. The amount of work is unbelievable and the foot traffic twice as bad, never mind the tenants. I was toasted.

So, instead of accepting my resignation, they offered me a promotion, a raise, and an assistant. She starts tomorrow...I can feel myself breathing a little better now. I'm sure I won't be coming home exhausted any more and I like the assistant already. (Throwing tantrums can sometimes pay off I guess)

5) Jeff and I secured our hotel room in N.O., and registered for the Gayromlit fun! We are getting our tickets tomorrow~

6) Elisa Rolle wrote:

Hi all

I'd like to let you know that your book entered my yearly Challenge. Here is the post with all the books and links:

http://elisa-rolle.livejournal.com/1232633.html

If you go to visit, you'll see my first MM listed there at # 76! O.M.G. Right? Tony & Ryan, part of the Lethal Obsession series. Now how did that even happen? NO clue. Do you see those popular authors? WOW...

So, as you can see I've had a full schedule of ups and downs going on. I hope now things mellow out a bit with work so I can get back to my writings. I have Carl and Lucca yelling at me here.

Here is the review for Lies of Omission and the link you can see it at...

Lies Of Omission – Michele. L Montgomery

Review by Justin James (Conquest Reviews)

Lies Of Omission is a masterpiece of emotion. I am still shocked how a story that was not huge in word count, managed to take me on such a long ride through the lives of two men.

Michele has succeeded in portraying the raw emotions of betrayal, the heat and fury of confrontation, and the horror of abuse to such a degree that you actually 'feel' it within your soul. One thing I did not expect when reading this title was how like a roller-coaster it would be, plummeting down the track to loss and sadness, and then gut-renchingly upward towards passion so intense that it leaves you with goosebumps.

Michele is a skilled Author, her characters 'live' within you, her storyline flows impeccably from start to finish.

The title manages to hook the reader from the very first page and does not let go until the final word.

Completely Enthralling!

*****

http://www.wix.com/darempiremedia/conquestreviews

Out of Town

Mon, 17 Jan 2011 03:45:32 +0100

I went out of town this past week. It was unexpected, but aren't all funerals? It's not like you plan those. In most cases they are quite a surprise and they are never something you plan on attending.

My husbands grandmother died last Wednesday, from what we've been told at around one in the morning due to old age. She was almost 90. I'd say that was about accurate, dying of old age that is. Mrs. Viola Hardin gave birth to 11 children. She and her husband, Fred raised all of those kids in Arkansas, in a town called, Lexa. Population 306. They had 7 sons and 3 daughters. My mother in law is one of those daughters and she's in her mid sixties. The youngest is 44, the oldest is 70. This team of kids were born in two groups, the older bunch, the younger bunch. They are quite a comical bunch. Time has a way of creeping up on us, and one of those 11 passed a couple years ago, bringing that number down to 10. Viola left behind 131 kids, grand kids, and great grand kids. Imagine being responsible for bringing all those people to life. And we're still counting. My 4^th grandbaby is on her way.

Anyway, the lady responsible for all these people passed on, and is now relaxing and having fun with her husband of 56 years, her son, several other of her loved ones, and my brother in law.

In 2002 my brother in law died. So did my sister in law. It was one of those unexpected things, ones that we never think will happen but do. In February of that year my brother in law was laid to rest in the same cemetery I was at this past weekend. I haven't been back since then and seeing his gravestone with his picture on it about broke my heart. The picture his mother had mounted on the stone was one he took many years before he died. He was your typical bad boy and the image fit. His hair was long and curly, he had bright blue eyes, an impish grin, and when he decided to strike, he was like a cobra. There was no mercy behind those punches, no cushion behind his hard pushes, no smoothness to his icy tone. He was full of spunk and vinegar, he always was. I met him when I was eighteen, he was nineteen and that guy had lived a life time by then.

All of my mother in laws kids had. If you read my book, River of Tears, you'll have some sort of an idea. My characters from that book came to life because of my husbands brother and sisters and even his mother, who gave me the idea of Joyce in the story. Though I did add a lot of fiction to that story, the base of the characters were built around real people. In truth, I love my sister in laws, I've come to tolerate my mother in law, and I loved my brother in law. He helped me with many difficult times in my early years with his brother. My brother in law had a huge heart, he cared about everyone, he did all he could for others, he'd give a stranger the shirt off his back and the last dollar in his pocket. He had passion and a lot of it. He adored his family with his whole heart and they meant the world to him. And yet he was a bad boy.

Manners and my brother in law did not blend well. One of my first meetings with him was one I remember very well. Hubby and I were living in Arkansas, and he wanted to go visit with his brother, who was at that time living with his long time girlfriend. We were in his trailer for no more than ten minutes and that boy farted like nobody's business. I looked at him, wide eyes, an open mouth, and my head full of OMG, I can't believe he did that! He farted in a lady's presence. I was stunned and said, that is just nasty! Back then I was a young girl, and barely let loose from my parents home, where I was raised so totally different from my husband and his siblings. To them farting around others wasn't a big deal, neither was burping. They were not taught manners. However, it was a memorable moment and one I'll never forget. Please don't think this behavior was practiced by my hubby, I swear this guy was raised by a different mother. He came to me with manners and he knew how to treat ladies. And no, he wasn't an angel, he had issues too, but I've cultivated him since then.

My brother in law was way too young when he left this earth, so was his wife. And they left 2 children behind. Both of them so young, way too young to be on their own to face the world alone. No mom and dad to teach them life experiences and to show them the way. It was a sad day when their parents left this world.

The relationship I had with my brother in law consisted of love and hate. We hated to love each other, and we fought on and off for several years. He was high strung and stubborn and I was quiet and stubborn. He saw things one way and I another. He was sure he was right and I knew I was. At times we did agree on issues concerning his dysfunctional family and others, not so much. He was devoted, and I was an outsider. His mother hated me...I stole her baby away. My hubby's older brother, my dear brother in law adored and hated the ground his mother walked on. He was so conflicted, he fought battles daily within himself over the wrongs that was done to him as a kid growing up, but at the same time he was overly devoted to his mother. She was his only mother, after all. Right or wrong, he had a duty to fulfill. He was the golden son, the third child, the first son, and the boy who shined like a star in his mothers eyes.

A few times he would show up at our house, quite announced and stir up more trouble than I wanted to deal with and now, as I look back on it, he was being a typical guy. He wanted to hang out with his brother, he wanted to go out drinking and do only God knows what. The guy cheated on his wife and I knew he did it, and the last place I wanted my husband to be was with his brother who held such a low opinion of women in general. This of course was his mother's fault. She taught this to her son's. I had a lot of work to do with my hubby when we were young. I'm older now, and now I wish I hadn't minded so much. Not that I really stopped them from doing what they did but I would have understood better. I would have spent less time being angry and more time enjoying my brother in law.

He slapped me once. I can't remember what it was about, but that was the first time in my life I'd ever been hit. My parents didn't believe in discipline which consisted of physical punishment. It's not saying I was a brat, I had manners and respect, I had morals and standards, they just never hit me. I still have all those attributes and I taught my children the same way. My brother in law felt justified I guess when he slapped me. He felt like a man with a point to make. That one incident changed the way I saw him and it hurt our relationship.

I have a lot of memories of my brother in law, some good, some bad, and they are all I have left of him. When I saw his grave this last visit, all of the good ones came flying back to me. I haven't cried since he was buried. Most often than not I found I was very angry with him over his death. It was pointless. It didn't have to happen. He and his wife could have still been here on this earth with us and helping to guide his children, to the right paths in life. They, by all means should have been here growing old with us, hanging out at one anothers house, having dinner, meeting for drinks, sharing grand children stories, or something as simple as talking on the phone. I'll never have that with my brother in law. He didn't give me a chance to grow up and mature, he didn't give himself a chance to grow up and mature.

I cried the other day for the loss of my brother in law. I cried because we'll never have any more moments to make memories. He was a bad boy, indeed, but I was a bad girl, too. We were young and doing what we thought needed done. We had more good times than bad but not enough of them. I didn't realize how much I missed him until I saw his gravestone. For the briefest of moments I felt the familiar pains of anger rising to the surface when it came to my brother in law, and then a wisp of wind came by, a hawk flew overhead and suddenly every bit of anger I had, dissipated.

How does one live with a deep hidden anger for so many years? Where does that go and how does a person live at peace with oneself? If you want to know ask me. I'll tell you. I'm a professional and in all of that professionalism I've developed IBS, anxiety, and God only knows what else. That anger ate at me and it made me a colder harder person. I trusted almost no one. I had very few friends. My marriage to his brother was rocky at best. We both suffered greatly and though my husband and I came to terms with his leaving us, I still had anger issues over what his brother did.

His brother stole my sister in law. She will never see her babies grow up to see what they will become, she will never hold her grandchildren in her arms, nor feed them cookies and cover their faces with kisses. She will never know the pains of raising teens, the pains of watching her children making the wrong choices, she will never see her children marry their hearts desires. He will never see any of it either. And I know he loved his family with all that he was.

So, why then did he kill his wife and then turn that damn gun on himself? My brother in law murdered his wife, then he turned the gun on himself. My brother in law cheated those he left behind. And after this weekend, 8 years later, I cried for him. I love that guy and I always have.

Maybe now, I can smile when I think of him.

This New Year

Sun, 02 Jan 2011 06:50:34 +0100

WOW! 2010 sorta flew by didn't it? Each year that goes by, it seems to go faster and faster and I want to shout out: PAUSE! Hold up. I need a breath please. I need to give [this] a thought without being pressured. Seems as if everything requires a right now decision. Those decisions make the time fly fast.

Anywho...moving on.

In 2010 I did a lot, saw a lot, learned a lot, worked a lot, and wrote a lot, too. I met my editor, whom I adore. I published Tony & Ryan, Lethal Obsession: Caged, and even had Lies of Omission done and ready to go with cover and all on New Years Eve. Nevertheless, I couldn't have done all that without help and I want to thank all of the people who led me right. I made some friends and we shared some laughs and tears and lots of good books.

Reviewing MM books is something else that was new for 2010 and I have loved almost every second of it. I'm a reader anyway then to get asked to read and review what I love to read was a total turn on. That is until I had to write reviews on stories I didn't particularly care for and let me tell you, as a writer that is one of the hardest things I've had to do. Critiquing somebody's work when I'm not even a professional scared the hell out of me and I had doubts but squashed those fears after seeing so many of my fellow writers being tore a new one as far as reviews went. I had read many of the books that I saw being cut to pieces and I didn't agree with what was being said, so Jeff and I decided to jump in and offset the ugly. And no, not every book we come across can be a 5 kiss but many are. Do I fear making enemies over this? Sure I do, but I am also a reader and I also have my own opinions and I don't mean to be hateful or mean when I give a story anything less than the perfect mark, it's part of it. We are a diverse people and we aren’t all going to like the same things. Reviewing is dangerous work as a writer though. ‘Nough said on that.

This New Year has a lot going on all ready and it’s just the 1st day. I’m hard at work on three different stories at the moment, two of them part of the Lethal series. I wish I could say that I’ll have the full series written in 2011 but unless I fall into a pile of money to sustain me I’m going to say stay tuned because one never knows what’ll happen. I have to divide my time between the never ending pressures of my day job, my very needy family, reading, reviewing, and writing. When I need a breather I goof off and play around. My head is full of plots, characters, and excitement. I think I need to use voice recognition software on my computer when I write. It would sure go faster. Throwing the towel in on any of it? Not a chance. Well, except for day job thing.

In 2011 my husband and I are welcoming a new grandbaby to the flock. This makes four. We are excited and can’t wait to see her precious little face, cover her with tiny little kisses, and hug her tight. Then send her home with her mom and dad of course. I try to tell my kids, been there done that, your turn, they glare at me. They never laugh. I hear a few snickers on occasion. That’s cuz they’re jealous. I have freedom now. They don’t. But yes, hubby and I do indeed watch the littles to give their parents a break. Wish someone had done that for me when I was their age having kids. We truly do enjoy spoiling the hell out of them and sending them home. I get to snicker when the parent calls me to tell me how “unruly” the child is. Payback is a bitch as they say.

Moving on: I wish you a very Happy New Year. Be safe, be happy, and smile. Oh, and pay your taxes cuz your Uncle Sam wants his split. (Have you ever met that guy?)

Happy Holidays To All and To All...

Fri, 24 Dec 2010 21:34:08 +0100

Happy Holidays To All and To All…

When I think about Christmas I think of these things.

1) Christmas Music

2) Multi-colored lights

3) Pretty wrapped packages under the tree

4) Kids living on the streets starving with no hope that Santa will find them.

5) Homemade cookies

I love music. I can’t write without it, I can’t work if it’s not on and when November hits I am looking for the station playing Christmas music until Christmas. For me hearing it brings me hope, it warms my heart. If I close my eyes and shut everything out I can almost believe that everything is as peachy as the songs say they are or will be. It gives the spirit to the season, it gets me geared up, it makes me smile and feel good inside. Don’t get me wrong; I do have my limits with how much Christmas music I can tolerate so I have to take it easy. I only listen to it at work and any other time I have HOT 107.1 going and yes, I even listen to 101.1 when they aren’t doing their 24x7 Christmas thing. I love variety and lots of it.

Now, the multi-colored lights with me must trigger a happy spark in my brain because just looking at them makes me smile. Like little rays of sunshine of many colors. The lights represent a rainbow to me. When I shut all the other lights off in the house, leaving only the Christmas lights on, they provide a calmness to me. I can let the days stress go away looking at them. And the way they look reflecting off the wrapped treasures under the tree makes me think of, (and don’t ask me why because I don’t know why.) A treasure chest of silver and gold that’s been lost and recently found.

Presents are prettier wrapped in pretty Christmas paper. I don’t care if the box is empty I love to see it all wrapped up and done up with the pretty ribbons and bows. If I could I’d wrap everyone’s birthday gifts in Christmas paper, it’s far prettier. When I was a kid I used to stare at the boxes wrapped at the malls and placed just so around the big trees that sat in the open areas. The paper was always busy with different scenes, designs, bows, and such. I always tried to see if I could find my name on the tags and a few times I did but my name was spelled wrong. Instead of the one L, there were always 2. I would get upset and demand that my mother change the way she spelled my name so one of those pretty wrapped boxes could be mine. She’d snicker and drag me away from the displays saying that Santa knew how to spell my name and not to worry. I worried anyway. When Christmas morning finally arrived I was ecstatic because he always spelled my name right. Oh how I miss the innocence of childhood.

This brings me to the kids living on the streets all over the world. When I was a kid and my parents took us downtown Chicago, we’d see people holding up signs asking for help. They would try to stop us and ask for money and because our parents raised us in the burbs right outside of Chicago, we had no idea why these people were asking for money. We didn’t know why they were dirty, or why their clothes were tattered and stained or why they smelled badly. We didn’t know what it meant to be homeless and to do without the basics we all need everyday of our lives. Simple things really, like soap and water, toothpaste and toothbrushes, deodorant and clean underwear. To be without three full meals a day was unthinkable to us. We, as kids, had no clue what was happening and when we asked about it my parents would say that some people don’t have homes and food to eat like we did and we should always behave and work hard so we never experience that part of life. But when we saw little kids in that situation, saw their dirty little faces and clothes and holding up signs begging for money I asked why those kids didn’t behave or work hard. Do you know how hard it is for a kid to understand that? My dad would say it wasn’t the kids fault, it was the way of life, and the only way to cure it was to work hard. Okay, fine, why didn’t their parents work hard and behave to get their kids a home and the things I had. No, I didn’t get the whole real life thing back then and really? I still don’t get why kids are living on the streets doing without the basic life needs while others are living in mansions.

I asked my father to give the kids money so they could eat and take a shower. He wasn’t happy about it, but once I threw a fit demanding he give them money he gave in to make me happy. Happy I was until I saw their sad eyes looking at him. Then I demanded that my parents bring the kid(s) home with us. I wanted them to have what I did, a clean warm bed, good nourishing food, and a hot bath. I begged my parents to give them a home but they never did. As soon as we made it back to the burbs, my mom and dad would say to us that we went downtown so we’d be grateful of what we had. I guess it made me grateful? What it really made me was sad as hell. All I would think about were the kids and what they didn’t have that I did.

Then the holidays would come and talks of being good for Santa or he wouldn’t show up with gifts started in. Parent tactics to have us behave I’m sure. However it went, there I started worrying again. How in the hell would Santa find the homeless kids? Did he know they were living on the streets under bridges, in the tunnels, or train stations and shelters? I mean, here my parents were telling us that we had to be in our beds by midnight or Santa wouldn’t be able to find us yet there were homeless kids living in alley’s in cardboard boxes and my parents were worried about the man in red not finding us? I didn’t get it.

As the years went by and I started having kids of my own, I never over indulged them the way our parents did to us. My sister, brother, and I had everything we wanted and needed. My kids had what they needed, and some of what they wanted but my husband and I kept it real. We wanted our kids to know real life and love doesn’t come wrapped in packages. It comes from the heart and if you have that, you have all the gifts you’ll ever need.

Throughout the years, my husband and I have taken in under privileged kids and helped them the best we could. They lived with us for several years at a time and I can’t tell you how good that made me feel. I felt as if I was finally helping one of the homeless one’s I met on the streets of Chicago as a kid. I often wonder what became of them, if they ever made it out of the alley’s and off the streets. I do tend to worry too much about situations I really can’t control or have no say so over.

That’s probably what helped to bring on the IBS I have been plagued with for more years than I care to say. They say it’s caused by stress. In fact I’m pretty sure it is. I’m the family worry wart. Generally I can sense an attack building up and I take extreme precaution with what I eat and drink and do things that don’t stress me out, but there are times when I can’t and I end up with a severe attack that puts me down for days. When I say down, I mean down. I can’t do much more than curl up in a tight ball and fight the tears. It hurts to sit, walk, stand, and laying down straight is out of the question. It’s a bitch to deal with and I will have to deal with this the rest of my life.

However, things can be worse, a lot worse. Remember the homeless thing? Or God forbid being hit with an incurable disease or cancer, or any number of other things that would take my life in a matter of months. IBS isn’t curable, it’s hard to treat, it boggles the medicine man’s mind but it won’t kill me and for that, I’m grateful. (I do whine a lot when I have an attack though. I’m not perfect.) After a few days the attack leaves me sore and cranky so I need something to cheer me up…Generally homemade cookies do the trick.

My favorite homemade cookies have always been and will always be chocolate chip. The more chips the better. When they’re baking the whole house smells like one big cookie and leave me feeling warm and fuzzy inside. My mouth waters up and I get that happy for food feeling again. Homemade cookies always bring a smile to everyone’s face. Have you ever noticed that? If you haven’t seen it, go bake some and give them to someone and see what they do. They smile!

Anyway, I just wanted to share more of me with you. Thank you for reading and yes, I know I’m long winded…remember? This is why I’m a writer.

From my home to yours—MERRY CHRISTMAS and a VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

When A Review Brings Tears to Your Eyes

Sun, 31 Oct 2010 18:07:53 +0100

I just read a review that totally floored me. I didn't get to the end of it with dry eyes, and I read it twice...though the second read through it the words were blurry because the more I read it, and let the words sink in, the more tears I had. These weren't tears of sadness or anger. These were and are tears of utter happiness. These tears have a deeper meaning to me than just happiness over a well written review. This review touched my writer's soul.

While it's no secret that Jeff Erno and I are friends and we co-run the review site together, we are still each our own people with our own agenda. We like different things, we write different stories about different subjects, and we read totally different stories. But there are a lot of things we agree on, too. One of the most important ones that we agree on is that we are brutally honest with one another. We trust each other that much, and when we do something or write something that the other does not agree with, we have our chat on it and go on. We sometimes take into account what advice was given, and we sometimes don't. However we do it, we go on and we support the other. We're friends. I love him and he loves me and we would even if we weren't writers.

And while it's not a secret that Jeff doesn't care for the violence/angst I like to write, he reads my stories with an open mind and if he has a problem with the subject he'll tell it. When I asked him to read Lethal Obsession: Caged he said yes of course. I can tell you I was so nervous all the while that he read it, that I would often come home from work looking for a message from him about the subject matter of the book, and telling me something awful.

It never came. He asked a few questions and that was that. I had no idea what he thought about the book until he was completely done with it.

Here's his review
http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/125...

Jeff is not only a gifted writer who can tell a story to rock your heart, he can write a review to bring the tears to your eyes. He did mine.

Thank you, Jeff. I love you. And most importantly, thank you for being my BFF.