Well as you all know, the busy holiday season is nipping at our heels, and I have had little time to breathe lately, much less write.

Starting a couple weeks ago, I’ve been involved in helping to move two family members. My mother and my niece are switching houses. So, for over a week, I had been feeding all of them every night for dinner. Then for three nights, my niece and her husband were staying at my house.

Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t mind helping out. It’s just that when you get used to having a house to yourself most of the time (my hubby and I have no kids except for our little furry children), it gets very stressful when all of a sudden there is always someone there. Anyhow, that has ended for now and I am feeling a little less overwhelmed.

Before this started, found out mother-in-law, who lives in MA, had to have a triple bypass. She got through surgery splendidly, but ended up in a crappy rehab place that let her get dehydrated, a UTI and an infection starting in her incision. Now she’s back in hospital, but should be fine in no time. Still stressful though. I will be glad when she goes home.

In the middle of all the moving (which is still going on in the way that I am alternating helping mom and niece unpack everything now), my hubby thought it might be a good idea if we painted the new office for the insurance producer I work for. Now, don’t get me wrong, I really wouldn’t mind doing it under normal circumstances, but of course, it had to fall right smack, dab in the middle of everything else that is going on.

I haven’t had any time to write the past couple weeks with trying to keep up with helping everyone and keeping the house decent and laundry done (which I think I’m failing miserably at). I have about thirty hours of taped shows that I will probably never get to, and I haven’t gotten to read in over two weeks.

Tomorrow I have to work half a day at the craft store I sell my candles out of. By, the way, I’m going to quit that and making candles at the end of the year, cause I can’t keep up.

Then tomorrow afternoon either helping mom or back to painting the new office.

Hubby has a horrible tooth infection and had to go to ER last night.

He needs to get better so he can get back to helping me paint. lol.

So I’ve been a little stressed lately, but things will start getting better soon I hope.

Our Getaway Weekend at

The Irish Inn, Ozark, IL

     Being a paranormal romance writer, a woman deprived of a vacation for over ten years and a yearning for proof of the afterlife, I can’t tell you how excited I was when one afternoon I came across The Irish Inn on the internet. Yes, the internet reaps enough benefits to counteract the many pains in the butt it can cause, but back to my story.

     I can’t tell you how ecstatic I get each year when the month of October approaches. I haven’t met a horror or ghost movie I hate yet, and this year I decided ten years without some rest and relaxation is enough. I set out on my search in August, hoping I’m not already too late. My ideal getaway has to have some paranormal aspect, and has to be in October. Since I know most places are usually booked far in advance, my hopes are very low.

     So, imagine my surprise when I come across this quaint little bed and breakfast a mere three and a half hours from my home. Imagine my even bigger surprise when I learn they have an opening in October. I eagerly set things in motion and am nearly giddy with excitement, wondering how I’m going to wait a month and a half.

     As time seems to fly when you get older, our booked weekend arrives in a blink of the eye, and my husband and I are off. The drive down was relaxing and scenic with rolling hills and clear, blue skies. There is a tiny bite in the air, just enough to remind you that fall is here, but still warm enough to indicate summer is not ready to fully relinquish its hold. Three and a half hours later we arrive at our destination, The Irish Inn.

     The gorgeous log cabin called The Irish Inn sits in the middle of the countryside, tucked into a hillside surrounded by peace, tranquility, wineries and the beautiful Shawnee National Forest. We arrive on Friday afternoon and are promptly greeted by the innkeeper, Lynn. Lynn is a delightful woman who was warm and inviting to us, treating us like extended family. After a brief chat we got settled into our scenic room with its own deck that overlooked a well-maintained pond and manicured lawn, its border lined with thick, rich forest. We had our own television with dvd player and a huge library of movies and books to choose from, even though we really had no plans to watch too much TV.

     After settling in and relaxing a bit, we decide to go out for a few hours of exploration before dinner is ready—A wonderful, homemade spaghetti dinner with fresh vegetables, salad and garlic bread prepared by Lynn. I cannot even begin to tell you how wonderful the sauce smelled simmering on the stove.

     That afternoon we visited Bell Smith Springs. On the way, we passed a cemetery with a peculiar sight. A mailbox perched in the middle of the headstones, flag up—not a house around—that said “information” on it. We drove by even, though my husband insisted he wanted to open the mailbox, and reached our destination about twenty minutes later. We walked the trail and saw some beautiful sights including an impressive stairway made of rock. I, myself, found the stairway a little difficult as I have asthma, but I did conquer it, and it was well worth it. Pictures of Bell Smith Springs

     We then headed back to the Inn. After we returned we relaxed for a little while before settling in for spaghetti. By the way—remember the mailbox in the cemetery?—turns out anyone who opens the mailbox is cursed with terrible luck. There is even a tale that some of those that have opened it have found letters addressed to themselves. I’m very glad we decided not to open the mailbox because I already have enough bad luck. So now back to the spaghetti dinner. This is when we met Brian, Lynn’s husband and co-Innkeeper. Brian is a former resident of Ireland, and his rich Irish brogue, Irish tales and witty humor provided fascinating dinner conversation. After our bellies were full, Lynn drove us to meet some real Cherokee Indians.

     I met and talked to some wonderful people, and learned a lot about a cultural that sometimes feels to be such a part of the past it is slipping away. However, that narrow-minded thinking is far from the truth. Indians are still very much part of this world—an important part—and I kept finding myself wishing that more people would open their eyes and minds and realize how important these people are to our society.

     Every one of them was kind, completely open and ready to share their stories with me. Honestly, I could have stayed and talked to them all night. I thank them from the bottom of my heart for an experience that most will never have.

     After returning we had Irish tea—which was yummy—and then turned in for the night.

     Day two begins. We are excited and rested and ready to go. We wake up to a huge breakfast that Brian has prepared for us. Eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, toast, fresh tomatoes, fresh orange juice, coffee—I mean who could ask for a better start to another gorgeous day in the making?

     Our plan is to visit Garden of the Gods, The Chocolate Factory, a couple wineries and to eat lunch before coming back to relax for awhile before setting out on our paranormal evening. We actually planned to visit many more places, but the above is what we ended up doing as we went along at a turtle’s pace absorbing the gorgeous scenery.

     Garden of the Gods, first stop. Absolutely breathtaking is all I can say. The beauty of the place will steal the air from your lungs. I can honestly say standing on the tip of a huge rock formation, peering miles and miles, over rolling forest brought me as close to being one with nature as I have felt for a long time, or ever. Pictures of Garden of the Gods

     The Chocolate Factory, second stop. Yum, yum and yum. We picked up several handmade treats for ourselves as well as for family members.  Don’t miss this place.

     Hogg Hollow, third stop. We were greeted by a small winery set off a winding back road. I can’t pretend to be close to being a wine connoisseur, but I will tell you Hogg Hollow had some of the best wine I’ve ever tasted. I bought a bottle of Sangria for myself and a bottle of blackberry/grape for my mother—who by the way, is more of a wine connoisseur than I, and said it was some of the best she’s ever had with no aftertaste.

     Next we stopped and ate at what most people would call a little hole-in-the-wall. I will tell you, we were surprised. The food was excellent. Stomachs satiated and bones tired, we decide to head back to rest for awhile before dinner and our big ghost hunt.

     After a dinner of pizza and more great conversation with Lynn and Brian, Lynn takes us on our paranormal adventure. Now, first off let me tell you: 1. Yes! I love anything paranormal, but I am not one of those who think every bump, every weird shadow, and every strange light is a ghost. I want proof! I am very open to the possibility of spirits, but that doesn’t mean I am gullible either; and 2. My husband is somewhat open to the possibility, but is a bigger skeptic and has never had a paranormal experience himself.

     Our first stop is what is called the Beast House. If you would like to read the stories behind any of these places, please visit:  http://irishinn.tripod.com/id12.html. While at this time, the house is no longer standing—other than a huge brick fireplace—you can feel the thickness in the air as soon as you step foot out of the car. I got some amazing pictures of orbs before being scared off by a deer.  Yeah, I’ve seen when animals attack, and I wasn’t in the mood to be a mate to a buck that night.

     Keep in mind please, that when I take pictures, I always try to click at least two pictures in succession quickly. So, if there are orbs in one and none in the next, it is harder to argue that it was just dust. Now, if the orbs were still there, but in different places, okay, maybe you could argue dust. But, there and then gone, no. I will post links so you can view the pictures and come to your own conclusions. Pictures of Beast House

     Second stop is Tunnel Hill. We began our quarter mile trek on the bike trail at night to the tunnel. An eerie feeling of being watched plagues my husband and I the whole way to the tunnel. Lynn leaves us at the tunnel opening as she is feeling uneasy and says she will meet us back at the car. My husband and I begin walking toward the end of the pitch black, fairly long tunnel armed with a flashlight and camera. I snap off several pictures, and we are stopped every few steps by the sound of footsteps up ahead. Each time my husband says he’s not convinced, and we continue only to stop again as the footsteps sound closer and I snap more pictures. To make a long story short, we only make it about three quarters of the way to the end before—get this—my husband says, “okay, I’m convinced. Let’s go back.”

     On the way back, there is almost an urgency in the air. It makes us want to run back to the car, but we manage to stay in control of our emotions. The feeling of someone watching us is stronger on the way back, and about half way to the car, the clip is slipping out of my hair and I stop to pull it out and put the clip back in tighter. We begin walking again and within seconds, something pulls my hair hard enough to make me stumble. My husband and I look at each other and can do nothing else but giggle in excitement. Now, others may find this horrifying, but while we were a little intimidated, our curiosity was stronger. Pictures of Tunnel Hill

     Third stop is the cemetery. This was our last stop, and while it had the least occurrences of anything that could be considered paranormal, it was not a bust by far. I again, got pictures of many orbs and my husband and I both smelled a sweet, floral scent off and on the whole time we were in the cemetery. Let me also clarify, that we did not know about the tales of others smelling the woman’s perfume beforehand. We didn’t encounter any of the previously sighted ghost soldiers, but the perfume and orbs were enough to excite us to no end knowing we were lucky enough to have experiences in all three places we visited. Pictures of the Cemetery

     We went back to the Inn for some more Irish tea and to show off our pictures before turning in.

     Sunday morning. I can’t tell you how depressing Sunday morning was when it rolled around, since we knew we were going to have to get on the road fairly early as my husband had to return to work late Sunday night. We again, were treated to a scrumptious breakfast with all the same trimmings as Saturday morning plus fried potatoes with onions and peppers.

     The time came where we had to say farewell to the quaint Bed and Breakfast we enjoyed so much and hit the road.

     My opinion:  If you need a relaxing weekend with leisurely things to do, and have a curiosity for the paranormal, this place is for you. If you don’t have a curiosity for the paranormal, and just want a place to wind-down, meet great people and visit wonderful, down-to-earth places, this place is for you also. Looking for a romantic getaway? Covered. I can’t imagine anyone not liking a visit to The Irish Inn.  Thank you so much Lynn and Brian!

Pictures of The Irish Inn

Coffee Time Romance Review for Darkest Hours: 5 cups out of 5

Read the review here: http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookReviews/darkesthours.html

Paranormal Romance Review:

http://www.paranormalromance.org/reviews/review.php?id=31461

Buy your copy today at: http://www.amirapress.com/shop/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=223&zenid=bc73a192b58488ff049bdc2af2bfc3bb

Darkest Hours

(Bestseller)

ISBN: 978-1-935348-45-0

A Paranormal Romance by S. K. Yule

www.amirapress.com

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Excerpt:

 The silence was unnerving, and once again swirling, thick fog enveloped her brain, wrapping its tendrils around every thought trying to fight its way out, making it impossible for her to think of something to tell Avril. She sighed and begrudgingly resigned herself to tell Avril the truth, seeing no other way, but before she could say a word she collided with something solid that knocked the phone from her hand. At first, she thought one of the building’s crumbling brick walls must be her obstacle until she reached out to steady herself and caught a handful of soft, supple leather at the same time the exotic smell of spicy sandalwood tickled her nose, tempting her lungs to take a deep pull of the intoxicating scent.

 She looked up, way up, until she was staring into the face of what had to be the sexiest man on the planet. He stole her breath, and she sucked in a small gasp as she continued her perusal. Glistening, clear eyes the color of the ocean close to the shore with just the right mixture of turquoise and blue, framed by thick lashes and black eyebrows, stared down at her. She snapped her gaping mouth shut, righted herself and eyed the stranger some more while retaining her hold on his coat. How could anyone be so hard, so solid, so big, so . . . sexy?

 His black as night hair floated in the breeze and hung in a silky curtain around a masculine face with a straight nose and a square jaw covered in thick stubble. Full lips, kissable lips, lips that looked as if they were made for fulfilling any woman’s most secret desires, framed his mouth. Heat flooded deep in her belly, and she had a strange urge to run her fingers through all that glorious hair. This was so not like her to feel this way and discerning when she admitted she liked it. What is wrong with me? Chasing away all sanity she couldn’t resist taking a peek at the rest of him.

 His huge frame loomed well over six feet, and a form-fitting, black shirt encased broad shoulders and a wide chest that tapered down to a lean waist, showing off his ripped, sculpted body to perfection. Black leather pants were filled out nicely by muscular thighs, and on his feet were black biker boots. The grip she had on his black trench coat pulled it open to allow her this fortunate view of superb male physique. He reminded her somewhat of Hugh Jackman in Van Helsing. Hating to admit it as Hugh was a God, even he paled in comparison. Holy cow! He has got to be the sexiest thing I have ever laid eyes upon.

 She had seen pictures in the magazines of male models with their oiled up bodies, perfectly manicured within an inch of their lives, and knew instantly that all of them had gotten it so wrong. They tried to portray the male body in all its glorious beauty, but none she had seen even came close to the virility emanating off the man standing in front of her now. He was an exemplary blend of exactly the right amounts of everything male.

 She was glad she couldn’t see his behind because if it was even half as nice as the front, which she had a feeling it was, she might actually start drooling all over his boots.

Mentally scolding herself for gawking at a complete stranger, she began an awkward apology. “Well, um . . . I-I’m, uh . . . . S-sorry for running into you. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was, uh . . . going.” Duh, that was obvious now wasn’t it? She felt like smacking her forehead with her open palm for her stupidity.

 Avril’s voice wavered up faintly from the ground. “Ebony, are you okay! Ebony! Answer me!”

 She released his coat with reluctance, her body already craving the lost contact, and bent to retrieve the phone from the ground at the exact moment he did. Her hand came to rest upon big, warm fingers already gripping the cell. Sparks shot through her when she touched him, and electricity ran up her arm. She jerked back as if she had been scalded. If he felt it, he didn’t betray it in anyway, keeping his steady, unflinching gaze fixed on her. Both of them stood, and he held the cell out to her. She took it, careful not to touch him again.

 Putting the phone to her ear, she said, “Avril, I’m okay. I just dropped the phone. I’ll call you later, okay?”

 “If you’re sure your okay, girlfriend.”

 She kept her gaze on him. “Yeah, I’m sure.” I hope. She flipped the phone shut and shoved it back in her purse.

 Was she okay? She didn’t know this man, and now that she had finished ogling him, she became aware of the tense way he held his frame in complete control. Not one muscle twitched in betrayal of any emotion. He reminded her of a medieval knight waiting for battle, eerily still and accepting of his possible upcoming slaughter. She sensed an aura of danger about him. She couldn’t explain it, just a feeling. He seemed . . . different somehow, but for some unknown reason, she also knew he wouldn’t hurt her. She’d be willing to bet her life on it.

 She moved around him. “I’ll just be on my way now.”

 He never uttered a word. Those turquoise eyes coldly assessed her every move. His face never betrayed one tiny emotion. Couldn’t he have at least acknowledged my apology? Yeah, right. Who was she kidding? He probably couldn’t even understand her mumbling.

 The warmth of embarrassment crept up her neck into her cheeks, and she felt as if she were back in third grade talking to a boy she had a crush on. Standing here gawking at some male, however mysterious, dark and gorgeous he may be, was ridiculous and immature. A warm, giddy feeling raced through her veins, strange, invading, confusing, and she tried to ignore it blaming the recent events of her stressful day.

 Taking one last look over her shoulder at him proved too much of a challenge to resist. Wow, there should be a law against men who look that good. She thought it a little strange that she had never seen him until today and stranger yet, that he was hanging out in the alley. Well, no matter, she wasn’t the police, and he wasn’t actually doing anything wrong anyway. Was he? Pulling her jacket closer around her body, she hurried on after deciding she didn’t want to know.

 She felt drawn to the dark stranger and couldn’t fathom why. Even now, she was bombarded with the urge to turn around and go back with every step she took away from him. She had no business having such feelings for someone she didn’t even know. She had dated a couple of nice men, but no male had ever really caught her interest . . . until now.

http://www.paranormalromance.org/reviews/review.php?id=31461

If you haven’t bought your copy of Darkest Hours, go get yours now at www.amirapress.com.

Thank you to everyone who has there copy already. And, thank you for all the positive feedback.

First, please follow the link to the article below.

http://www.jamaicaobserver.com/lifestyle/html/20090613T220000-0500_153472_OBS_WHERE_S_FABIO_WHEN_A_GIRL_NEEDS_HIM__.asp

Let me just say that this woman shows me how narrow-minded and naive people can be. I was not happy when I read this, especially when I realized it was written by a woman. Us girls are supposed to support one another not rip each other to shreds over everything we disagree with.

Sharon Leach’s tantrum of words irritates the hell out of me. She makes it sound as if all women are dumb, nit-wits who couldn’t possibly tell the difference between reality and fantasy. Who doesn’t have a way to escape the every day humdrum’s of life? Whether it be a bubble bath, a glass of wine, chocolate or a good movie. We, all of us, use things on a daily basis to escape reality.

This doesn’t mean we want to leave our husbands, our jobs or our children for Fabio. It simply means we need to give our tired brains a rest from chaos. Now to get to the part that I’m really pissed about.

I’m offended by the casual way Ms. Leach insinuates that all women associated with “bodice-rippers,” are somehow below her lily white standards. I say to you Ms. Leach, as a romance writer, I’ve spent many, many days writing until 3 am, I’ve spent many, many days stressed over the theme to my next story, I’ve spent many, many days worried about my writing abilities. This is not some easy career I have “scurried” to. This is a path I have chosen that is in no way an escape from reality to me. Although I feel I can say with confidence that you’re little article didn’t take long to write.

Romance writing is stressful, hair-pulling but yet when I finish a story, I feel joy. A sense of accomplishment. And, if I am able to provide women with a way to escape reality as you call it for awhile, then there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. You patronize people for wanting to take a mental holiday on occasion. We all need them. We would go insane without them. So I guess all women who write and read erotica are dim-witted idiots who can’t tell reality from fantasy? I think you are a dim-witted fool for spewing such ignorance about a subject you cannot even fully comprehend.

By the way, I’ve had many trips from reality. They are soothing, relaxing and my dear husband, my soul mate, the love of my life is always there when I get back. Exactly where I want him. And, by the way, I have no problem when he takes a trip from reality either to say The Swimsuit Edition.

You are a naive fool. I’m offended and can tell you that you have stepped on the toes of many smart, hard-working women who do not make a career out of bashing others.

PS: Dear girl please pick up another one of these bodice-rippers quick because it sounds like you are in desperate need of escape yourself.

I have read so many posts by people on numerous writing sites who say those who write erotica/sex scenes in their books are not good writers. I’m really tired of hearing this. It’s like saying I’m not a good christian because I’m Southern Baptist instead of Catholic.

Writing sexual encounters or not writing sexual encounters have absolutely nothing to do with being a good or bad writer. It’s a simple preference. I prefer to write erotica/sexual encounters in my stories because it’s what I want to do. How does this make me a bad writer? Every writer has different styles, different techniques, different visions. This is what makes us unique. This is what makes our stories unique.

Most of the people who say that those of us who prefer to write sex scenes are bad writers simply don’t like reading such material. But I reiterate, it does not make us bad writers. Just like it does not make people who write horror books bad writers because some people don’t prefer horror. Just like it does not make biography writer’s bad writers because some people don’t prefer biographies. Just like it does not make stories that don’t have a happy-ever-after ending bad stories because I don’t prefer them.

I think the biggest thing that irritates me about this is how so many writers out their are so eager to point the finger at other writers because they don’t write how they think they should. This is ridiculous and all writers should support each other and respect each other. Just because you don’t agree with something does not make it “right.” It is an opinion and everyone should respect everyone’s opinion instead of judging them for them.

Maybe the writers that feel this way should check out some of the Best Seller Authors. You might be very surprised. They must be doing something right.

Okay, I know there is absolutely nothing paranormal about Dancing With The Stars (well I don’t think anyway), but I can’t help myself.  I have watched the show for several years now and am a HUGE fan of the PBR.  My husband and I spend our Anniversary at the PBR Built Ford Tough Series in St. Louis, MO, every year.  This past year was our 10th anniversary and our 4th year at the event.

Needless to say, when I found out Ty Murray was going to be on Dancing this year, I was so excited I could barely contain myself.  I sat in front of the TV last night, biting my nails and fidgeting waiting to see who was going home as I knew it had to be my favorite cowboy.  I was so happy when I found out he wasn’t going I screamed (and I’m not a screamer). 

I tell you the only thing that upset me was when Tom said he was shocked.  It’s like dude, yeah, maybe it wasn’t what some people expected, but Dancing isn’t just about who dances best.  It’s about who is the most likeable and who has the biggest fan base.  I mean it isn’t like American Idol where these people are looking for a dance career.  Ty works so hard and he didn’t deserve the disrespect.  ( I know, I know, he probably didn’t mean it that way, but I’m very protective of my little cowboy.)

Anyway, I think this proves how huge the bullriding fan base is, not to mention that I’m sure Ty has many friends and acquaintances that vote for him as well as old-time cowboys and probably lots of Jewel’s fan base as well.  I think it’s wonderful and I can’t help but have a huge smile on my face every week when I watch him dance.  He puts soooo much effort into it and it shows.

Ty, keep up the great work and I hope all of your fans can see you through to the finals.  Come on everyone!  Make sure to vote for Ty on Monday night!

This one is for all you ladies out there (and, who knows, maybe some guys).  I was wondering the other day what it is specifically about women that makes their husbands want to block everything that comes out of our mouths.  If any of you girls have an answer for this, please let me know.  I will tell you my theory and feelings on the subject.

First of all, I have to get this out.  I love my husband dearly and wouldn’t trade him in on another man for any amount of money, blackmail or other reason.  He is my other half, my soul mate, my one and only in this lifetime (and, possibly any previous or future lifetimes).  With that said, I must say that at times I would like to take the nearest pillow, place it gently over his smiling face and sit on it with my big butt until he stops breathing.  (Of course, this is just a fantasy of mine and I would never do it — although the other night when he was snoring like a bear in hibernation . . . hmmm, nope, never mind, wouldn’t do it then either).

Anyway, what makes me say this is . . .   Have you ever had a ten minute conversation with your husband, pouring your heart out or just talking because you are stressed to hell and he’s the only one you have to talk to to ask him his opinion to which his reply is “what”?  While I cannot say what causes this problem in every man, I can only tell you what I believe causes it in my man.  Everyone take a deep breath, here comes the biggest secret, I’m going to tell you why men won’t listen to a word that comes out of your mouth. . . ready?  It’s because they simply don’t want to listen.  Gasp!  “No!”

I do truly believe the answer is that simple because let’s face it, all the excuses we can think up can pretty much be debunked.  For example:  Myth #1.  Maybe his hearing is going bad.  Debunked #1.  No way, because I don’t know about your man, but my man can’t here me when I’m a foot away but he can hear me opening a freaking bag of candy from down the road.  Myth #2.  Maybe he’s having trouble multitasking, the TV was on after all.  Debunked #2.  Then why the hell can he watch TV, eat popcorn and play games on the computer all at the same time?  Myth #3.  Maybe he’s just too tired.  Debunked #3.  Open a can of beer or turn on a football game and see how fast your tired man comes to life (insert whatever your man loves most).

Now, while I understand that there are those of us girls (sorry girls) that like to constantly run our mouths and never shut up for two seconds, it does not mean that we never need our man to listen to us.

Yes, yes, I know you are all saying, but Sky, I’ve told my man that it upsets me when he doesn’t listen and he says it’s not true, that what I say is important.  Let me just tell you that three quarters of the time he is listening to you, it’s really all an act.  His mind is a blank fog of football, gaming, candy, beer or Jessica Alba. 

Do I think that this means our men don’t care about us?  Don’t love us?  No.  I honestly don’t know what makes your attentive man suddenly turn deaf to your voice within five years of being together.  This I will say though.  And, men, you really should listen up this one time in you life to what a woman has to say.

Women by nature are nurturers, lovers, fierce mothers.  We are sensitive, tough and insecure at times even if we don’t show it.  Yes, we have our faults too, and I would never claim otherwise.  But, if you don’t pay attention to your woman, make her feel loved, wanted, cared for, she will stop caring as much.  The little things she used to do that you have ignored for so long will start disappearing.  You know, the way she used to try to touch you all the time by maybe holding your hand, or brushing her fingers through your hair.  Or how about the way she snuggles up to you on the couch or simply asks how your day was.  We need to be listened to, especially by our man, which is the most important person in our lives, our best friend, the one being that we most want to please.

Simply put.  When men don’t listen to their women, they are saying, “you aren’t important.”  What you have to say is not worth my time.

Well, I feel I’ve been missing in action lately or put in other terms, slacking on my blog.  I have been finding it hard to keep up with my writing and everything else in life like my blog, spending time with the family/husband, cleaning the house, laundry, errands, work.  Oh, did I mention I also make candles and have a booth at the local craft mall where I am required to work a day a month also?  I think I have too much on my plate sometimes, but I know I’m not alone.

My mind is a jumbled mess thinking of all the things I should be doing while I’m doing the things I need to be doing.  I should be promoting my upcoming book more, I should be visiting author and reader sites more, I should be, I should be, I should be . . .

I do feel quite good about my writing progress though.  I have written 30,000 words in the past five days or so and am closing in on finishing the first draft of the second book in the Darkest series entitled Darkest Dreams.  I think it’s just going to take me awhile to figure out how to juggle everything.  I need a schedule, but everytime I make one, I can’t seem to stick to it.

Anyway, just wanted to let everyone know what was going on and that I’m hoping to get some more links on here in the next couple days and possibly get some kind of newletter started (if I can figure out how to do that–I’m not very computer savvy where it comes to setting up sites and such).

Everyone please take care and have a wonderful weekend!  I’ll see you soon.

PS:  Please, send me your links all you writers so I can help share you with the world!