Featured Books Friday!


The kick off to Featured Books Friday was awesome last time! Thank you to all who participated and purchased books. Please check it out if you want by clicking HERE.

I will be doing the same thing this week.

In the comments put the title, your name, genre, and purchase link along with a blurb or scene from your book under 500 words. (please no erotica or over the top violence)

Here’s mine:

Broken Smiles by Tara Mayoros. Women’s contemporary romance.  http://www.amazon.com/Broken-Smiles-Tara-Mayoros-ebook/dp/B00NU69UMU/ref=sr_1_sc_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1429659605&sr=8-1-spell&keywords=broken+smils


Taking her first look at the doctor, Laidan shrank in her seat.

Quickly assessing her appearance, she groaned, thinking about her reflection in the mirror earlier that morning.

Standing at the front of the room, he held the audience captive. He stood tall and fit like an unyielding tree. It grounded Laidan, and for some reason she thought of roots climbing up her legs, holding her captive. An air of confidence swam about him. His brown hair fell long enough to reveal a small wave. Her heart that had skipped a beat moments earlier, was all but pounding now.

The doctor’s voice rang confidant and clear as he spoke. “And that is why I have visited a few hospitals here in the States. The fact of the matter is — I need funding. These kids need your support.” His hand came to his face and rubbed his cheek as if he wasn’t used to its smoothness. Looking up to the slideshow, Laidan noticed how his eyes softened at the sight of the children standing in front of the humble building made of concrete and rocks. The dense backdrop of banana trees and hanging vines seemed to warm the hospital chill around her. The children made funny faces at the camera, and she smiled, imagining the relationship the doctor had with his patients.

He turned to the audience, eyes scanning the room, as if he dared anyone to not help out. His brown eyes passed over her dismissively. Her heart dropped.

Then, very pointedly, his eyes shot back to hers. They held her gaze in a comfortable moment. A shot of butterflies injected straight to her stomach. Her eyes perused his face. His brow showed poise, his easy presence filled the entire room, and his returning smile disclosed a small tease. She didn’t think about how she looked or that she had bloodshot eyes — she knew in that moment he saw beyond her appearance. A blush rose to her face and tickled at her ears.

She felt her friend shaking her rather aggressively.

Andi whispered impatiently in her ear. “I said, are you cold? Do you want my jacket?”

“No, why?”

“Well, your arms are completely covered in goose bumps.”


Thanks for stopping by –


??? Inspiration ???

I attended a writers conference this past weekend, which in turn, caused thoughts of inspiration to flood my mind. Not actual inspiration, just the concept of it.

As writers, we were told in this keynote speech, that we do not receive inspiration. That it is the deep recesses of our subconscious mind that are speaking to us. When someone is given a soapbox on which to stand upon, I always get a bit excited to listen to what rings true and what I process as crazy talk.

First, I need to define in·spi·ra·tion – noun \ˌin(t)-spə-ˈrā-shən, -(ˌ)spi-\ (Webster dictionary)

: something that makes someone want to do something or that gives someone an idea about what to do or create : a force or influence that inspires someone

: a person, place, experience, etc., that makes someone want to do or create something

: a good idea

Here is the problem with the speakers claim that we do not receive inspiration. Listed above are three different ways to process what is inspiration. Is it something divine? Is it an external thing/person/experience? Or is it a good idea? With making the claim that we as artists and authors are uninspired, can easily offend. Because everyone sitting in the audience has a different opinion of what inspiration is, and where exactly it comes from.

Personally, I did not take offense. In fact, I was thoroughly entertained. But many did take offense, as I was sitting in the back and noticed people began to trickle out. Some shaking their heads in disapproval as they did so.

Many months ago I stumbled across this Ted talk by Elizabeth Gilbert. It affected me very much and I found myself dwelling on it for quite a while afterwards, I still do actually. I loved it. It rang true to me. I hope you will take the time to listen to it in its entirely.

My favorite part of the speech was when Elizabeth referenced Ruth Stone. Ruth said at times when she was working in the fields, an idea or a moment of inspiration would roar towards her like a freight train. She would run to catch it. I have felt this and to me, it is one of the most happy, enlightening feelings in the world. I have sprinted home or rushed through a shower to find a pen and paper (because turning on the computer to Word or Scrivener would take to long) to scribble down thoughts that have come completely unexpected.

So where do these thoughts come from? We all have our different opinions. Personally I’d like to say Ole Ole (watch the link above) and stick with that.

If you have comments or you were one in attendance, I would love to hear your thoughts.