Boring steps...let me introduce you to some paint.
A while ago, when I still had a personal facebook and stuff, someone shared a photo of a staircase that someone painted. But in a super cool way. THEY HAD A BOOK TITLE ON EACH BACK STEP! OMG! They were perfect!
I NEEDED THOSE STEPS
So, after months of discussions and planning....my sister is painting my steps.
I'm so freaking excited it's ridiculous.
She's only painted six steps so far, but it's coming along nicely.
There's going to be some touch ups before the final gloss goes on. And certain letters will get fixed.
These steps get used every day. The bedrooms are upstairs, so it's really hard to keep these beauties perfect until completion. Especially with a six year old.
I'll post more photos as the steps get finished.
The books chosen are only a few of the books that mean something incredible to me. They're some of my favorites, for various reasons, and they aren't going to be all classics or all traditional published, or all indie books. If a book spoke to me on a deep level, they were considered for this project.
My sister is awesome for doing this and putting up with me. I never would've done this myself, because I'm too hard on myself and no longer have a steady hand.
But, I'm so happy that something is finally going right in our home renovations! We've had some really REALLY bad luck...but that's a story for another day!
Have a great Monday bookworms!
Sunday, October 4, 2015
Growing up in the little one-horse-town that I grew up in, autumn always held its charm. The leaves would begin to change, the temperatures dropped at night, a few select houses would begin to prepare their house for trick or treaters, and with that change, the talk changed to spooky stories. Most of these stories were fabrications, but most had one common factor; Rehmeyer’s Hollow (Hex Hollow). Rehmeyer’s Hollow became “famous” for the murder of Nelson Rehmeyer, a witch or pow wow doctor. The murder happened in November, but because of the witch thing and cursing or hexing, it became more of a Halloween thing. You can look up what happened and the various stories, the topic of my post isn’t the background, but it’s pretty cool stuff actually. There are stories about the seven gates of hell being in Rehmeyer’s Hollow (which I don’t believe, but when you’re young those stories are exhilarating.) While I was growing up, there was a hay ride that went through Rehmeyer’s Hollow every autumn. Along the route, you’d pass The Hex House and various set ups that the community put together.
One year, I think it was the Halloween I was 12, I was invited by a few friends to join them for the event. We had an allotted amount of time to dance and be creepy. I think we were supposed to be zombies, that part is fuzzy. I joined about eight other friends. The biggest thing I remember is dancing like fool to Monster Mash and Mambo #5. That was the last year we all spent Halloween together. The following March our beloved friend, one of my best friends, killed himself. But that Halloween was one of my favorites. I never thought I’d have that much fun dancing in front of strangers and people that might recognize me.
Every year, when the temperatures get cooler at night and the leaves begin to change… When talks of apples and pumpkins are floating around everywhere… When that feeling returns… I go back to dancing to Mambo No. 5 with my friends. I see my friend, who would be 30 now, dancing, smiling, laughing, trying to make the kids on the hay rides stop crying and start laughing. I hear my friend tell me, “Being afraid you’ll get made fun of isn’t something I’d worry about. I want those kids to remember Halloween isn’t just scary.”
Autumn is bittersweet, but it’s my favorite time of year.
Because suicide awareness shouldn’t be a day, a week, or month, I always make it a point to be there for others. I know what it’s like to be that low that you just want it all to end (I’ve tried and thankfully failed). I know what it’s like to smile and laugh and pretend you’re okay. I know what it’s like to lose someone dear to you. If you need a pep-talk, someone to listen, some advice, a funny text to cheer you up, or just someone to do nothing with…I’m that person.
Choose to live. Choose to love. Trust me when I say it’ll be worth it. The best is yet to come. You won’t be where you are forever.
You are not alone.
Thursday, October 1, 2015
I love the puck.
If you talk to me, follow my posts on any media outlet, or know me in real life…you may have heard me talk about hockey once or a thousand times. There’s a reason for this.
I FREAKING LOVE HOCKEY
I’m a hockey nut.
I even wrote about hockey in Pucked.
There’s just something about it… I don’t even know why really. To me, hockey is the best thing since coffee.
I was around the age of puberty (so um…somewhere between 10 and 13 I think) when I went to my first live game. My sister, her husband (that might’ve been boyfriend at the time), and one of their friends took me to Hershey PA to see the Hershey Bears play. I don’t remember who they played. I WISH I DID! But sadly well over a decade has passed since then. Whoever they played, I fell in love with the game. I was more of a sporty, tom-boy growing up anyway. Of course I had girly moments (more when I was elementary school little) but sports and wrestling were a staple on my TV in my room, as well as cartoons…like Cat Dog and Smurfs. I’m not ashamed. Anyway, I remember before that I watched ice hockey on the TV. But I didn’t follow it until that live game. After that game I’d watch and learn the rules (I had already learned soccer and football enough to follow along and not get too confused). But I didn’t choose a team. Not until my senior year. Pittsburgh Penguins became IT for me. It wasn’t that far a reach because I loved the Pittsburgh Steelers already, too.
Then I graduated and met my husband, who loved them both, too.
I have a hockey husband…not my actual husband. I have one player that I love to the moon. But he’s married, too. So it can never be *sniff* but I know the rules, I know how its played, and I can chirp like the best of ‘em. Trust me, I am funny as h-e-double hockey sticks during hockey season. I follow stats. (I love statistics for some reason. Even if they're calculated in a redundant way sometimes.) There will always be a rivalry, but for me, it's not from hate. It's from history, it's from those very stats, it's because of the way the game is played. I respect the game, the players, the coaches, the officials... And when you have that kind of love, you can talk hockey with just about anyone. I'm a Penguins fan, but I can watch a Flyers game and see a great play, a perfect shot, an out-of-this-world save and show respect to the team.
In Pucked, Audrey zones out of her surroundings and goes berserk watching the game…That is me. Last season I wrote Pucked during games (intermissions and commercials mostly because I forgot I was writing and got sucked into the games).
Life just isn't the same when hockey season is out. It's like take a coffee-addict's coffee away for 3 months. You get the shakes. You look at pictures from the past and cry in the middle of the night. Okay, maybe not. But still. Hockey season knocks the socks off summertime sunshine any day.
I’m just your average, every day, mom, wife, and author. That happens to love hockey.
I don’t need a reason. ;)
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
To The Steadfast
by Briana Gaitan
Genre: Coming of Age Romance
Cover Artist: Romantic Book Affairs
Resolute. Firm. Unwavering
That was my love for him.
Steadfast for as long as I can remember.
As my best friend's brother, he ignored me before noticing me. He protected me, bought me my first beer, but eventually became my undoing.
There was a time I would have died to get him to notice me, now I'd do anything to forget him.
I'm not the one who can tame him, and he's not the guy who will change for me.
This isn't a story about falling in love, this is a story about falling out of love.
And finding the strength to stand up for myself.
Here's to the steadfast.
*This is an standalone story that crosses years from YA into NA genre, due to heavy subject matter this book is for ages 16 and up. This is not your typical love story.*
About the Author
Briana Gaitan is the bestselling author of the Hollywood Timelines series (The Last Thing and The One Thing) and coauthor of the Ethereal Underground series.
Briana is a southern native and self proclaimed geek. She has never wanted anything but to create whether it be composing music, decorating her house, or giving voices to the characters inside her head.Her days are spent obsessing over a good read, raising her three kids, and watching anything on the SyFy channel. Through her writing, she hopes to inspire others to believe in the impossible.
We don’t have drinks this time so instead I raise my hand for a majestic fist bump. I’m not sure what to wish/salute to this time. Over the weeks, we’ve gone through everything. Well, almost everything.
“To love,” I say, knocking my knuckles against his.
“To infatuation,” he corrects, fist bumping me again.
“No, to the steadfast.”
Our eyes connect. Both of us realizing how cruel life can be, how tempting it is to get swept away in the people that pay attention to us.
WEARY. DESPERATE. BROKE.
I did what I had to do to save her.
I sold my soul to survive.
I fell in love with the devil himself.
I'm Aurora James, and this is my story.
DANGEROUS. MENACING. FORMIDABLE.
He is darkness and danger; I am his light.
He is cold and ruthless; I am his warmth.
He is a heartless pimp; I am his whore.
Copyright © 2015 Jessica Ingro
My mouth hung open as I took in the sight of the man standing in the doorway.
He was easily six foot three, with black hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed as if they saw right through me. His facial features were hard and masculine, like that of a gladiator—strong jaw, straight nose, high cheekbones. And good lord, he was built. His muscles were barely contained by the blue dress shirt that covered his upper body. And through his black suit pants, I could see large, muscular thighs.
“Please don’t tell me this is the situation,” he said to Ghost in an infuriated tone.
“Sure is.” Ghost’s grin stretched across his face and if I knew any better, I’d say he thought the whole situation was amusing, which only served to take me from self-pity to straight out pissed off. Nothing about a single mother struggling to make ends meet was funny in my opinion.
I narrowed my eyes and opened my mouth to curse when the man shut the door behind him, drawing my attention back towards him. He really was a fine specimen of eye candy. Muscles in my lower belly clenched at the unbidden thought of his large body over mine.
“Why the fuck did you bother me with this?” the man snapped, clearly pissed off and not finding the situation amusing either.
“She wants to dance out front,” Ghost explained.
“All the girls dance out front,” the man replied in agitation.
“She only wants to dance out front,” Ghost further explained.
A bark of disbelief came from the man’s lips, and he turned his full attention to me.
“What makes you think you’re better than the other girls here?”
“I… I don’t,” I stammered. His gaze was hard and his eyes were cold as they raked over my body with precision.
“Then bend over and show me what you’re working with or get the fuck out.”
The color drained from my face at his harsh words, even as those muscles tightened again in anticipation. This was insane. No way could I possibly be this turned on by a stranger who was a complete asshole.
And in the end isn’t that exactly what Kevin ended up being? A stranger and complete asshole? My inner voice taunted me.
“Who do you think you are coming in here and demanding me to bend over like I’m nothing more than a piece of meat?” I demanded. I was in full-on defensive mode. I hated being talked about like I wasn’t in the room, and I despised being treated like a piece of shit.
He closed the distance between us until he was so close his breath caressed the skin on my cheek. My heart galloped wildly in my chest at being this close to him. I had to fight the urge to lean forward, bury my nose in his neck and sniff his collar when his woodsy scent wafted around me.
“Don’t you ever question who the fuck I am. I’m motherfucking God as far as you’re concerned. No one steps into my den and shows me disrespect. No one. You got that?” His tone held a razor-sharp edge that I felt lash at my skin with each word.
“Yes,” I squeaked out, my head bobbing up and down in concurrence. If I’d thought Ghost was scary before, he had nothing on this man. He was on a whole other level from scary. The word scary would be closer to describing a tiny little bunny than it would be to describing him.
Coherent thoughts flew out of my head when I felt his hand on my hip. His touch was a hot brand against my skin, making my breath come in harsh pants. His proximity was breaking down all my defenses and making me feel like a bitch in heat.
The material of my thong tightened against my skin right before I heard the material rip. I looked down in disbelief at the torn lace dangling from his large hand.
Holy shit. He destroyed my underwear… with one hand.
About the Author
Jessica is the author of the Love Square series. She grew up in Central New York, where she spends her days as a Security Analyst at an IT consulting company. In her free time, she enjoys reading books and developing ideas for her own stories. Writing is her secret passion that she's been fostering since elementary school, when she wrote her first book about a puppy. It has always been a dream of hers to be able to share her stories with the world.
Jessica currently lives in New York with her husband and three dogs.
Social Media Links
Facebook ➜ http://on.fb.me/1Ex6uOe
Website ➜ http://www.jessicaingro.com/
Goodreads ➜ http://bit.ly/1MjAD1p
Twitter ➜ http://bit.ly/1O3epXO
Saturday, September 19, 2015
I recently asked a friend what her superpower would be if she could choose one. Here's her reply:
Who wouldn’t want to have them? I was watching The Ellen Show yesterday and she was talking to this little girl who designed 3D Plastic hands for children who needed them, known as Super Hero Hands. She asked the little girl if she could have a super power what would it be. Now normally you would think she would have said something like mind control, control of the elements, or something “cool” like that, but what she said left me in awe. The girl is 10 years old designing 3D Plastic hands and her reply was, “I don’t need a super power when I already have the power of imagination and thoughts.”
We need more answers like this in the world. Why spend time wishing for something we can’t have when we can use what we have for something great. Whether it’s creating prosthetics, picking up trash, or organizing a food/clothes drive for the local homeless, having a power doesn’t necessarily have to mean out of this world like Clark Kent or The Avengers.
However, for the sake of this post, if I had a super power it would be the ability to stop time. Who couldn’t use more time in a day? I would be able to work my day job, hang out with my kids, blog and write to my heart’s content. What super power would you have if it was possible? Leave a comment below letting us know!
Who gave me this answer?
A wonderful woman that writes with a raw edge; Dani Morales
Dani Morales is a native Texan currently residing in Las Vegas, Nevada with her three boys and mom. She adopted the boys in December of 2011 and loves spending every minute playing with them. On her spare time you can find a book in her hand or sitting in front of the computer typing out stories that run rampant in her mind.
I was born in the wrong year.
Do you know how I know?
I freaking love Clint Eastwood movies, Frank Sinatra and Johnny Cash are my favorite voices of all time, 80s movies hold some of my favorites, and I absolutely love stories from the 70s.
Also, I love OLD Scottish and Irish tales.
I suppose my love of Harry Potter, Jack Skellington, and Johnny Depp keep me centered in this era.
I’ll remain weird.
Don’t worry, I fly my freak flag proudly.
I also hate popcorn, but that’s neither here nor there.