Saturday, December 31, 2011

at the end of the year I'm thankful for

it's the end of 2011 and it's been a doozy but all in all I have a bunch to be thankful for. so here's a short list
1. my family- I have awesome unwavering support from them and I love them
2. my awesome secret boyfriend who I love. he is the absolute best and he rocks my world and brings me joy.
3. the contract for two of my books with the option for the third. thanks Charles River Press and Jon Womack for giving Eamon and the gang a great new home. can't wait for you all to read the story.

4. the opportunity to continue to learn patience and understanding via the problems I have with my arm. I know that sounds crazy but I believe everything happens for a reason, including my arm so I am thankful to be able to learn something from it.

5. my friends who  stop by here and everywhere else I spout off. I enjoy interacting with all of you even if it is only through the internet. I love hearing from you and about you and hope to keep it up in 2012!

Happy Vladurday

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

ooohhh get in on this!

this is an awesome challenge to read at least 24 horror or urban fantasy books in a year. you can read more, like 48 books if you want. there are two different challenges. it's a great incentive and you can read all about it on Book Chick City's site.

just like riding a bike

lol. yes I look lie this on my bike frequently. although now it hurts A LOT more when I fall now than when I was a kid. anyway, whenever you haven't done something in a while and you are getting back to it, someone always says "it's just like riding a bike". these people don't know about my biking skills. yes I never forget how but I usually get hurt at least one time. or at least "saddle sore"
this episode of "bike riding" is writing. gasp!
I don't know if I've just been so consumed with other things that I haven't been able to do it or what but even when I sit down to write, the words don't come. my characters still talk to me (thank goodness) but I just can't get seem to write what they are telling me. I only made it to 35k words in NaNo this year. last year I blasted out the words that became Blood of New Beginnings. ahh, the words just flowed. part of that might have been that I was unemployed and not in school but who knows. I used to be able to multi task my ass off but it would seem that I've lost my mojo.  I need some mojo refilling. I don't think drinking will do it this time. I'm hoping when I start working with my editor for Blood Betrayal and talk to the art department I might get jazzed again. I'm almost positive that will do it but trying to work through it until then is tough. any and all suggestions welcome on how to stoke up the mojo.

Monday, December 26, 2011

the feelings of love and writing about it

love is a funny thing. not funny ha ha funny but mysterious funny. although it can be ha ha funny. sometimes that's the best. anyway, the emotions of love are tough to write about.  or at least writing about it and making it believable. sometimes the feelings of love are just hard to put into words. in the beginning you have all of those almost anesthesia like feelings where your love can do no wrong. everything is right in the world and so on. then life settles back down. you see your love as a mere human but you still love them and doing all the everyday things are still awesome. readers I don't think want to read about that. they want the beginning, fantasy parts. the ones that are hard to write about because I am at a total loss for the words to describe them. even as they are happening to me. although I'm more at the everyday stage with daily spike of awesomeness. (yes secret boyfriend is so made of awesome and I am living for the day when I don't have to keep him secret) when writing I try and stretch my imagination and search for words that describe the new love feelings and actions. sometimes I get frustrated and write "gooey gooey gooey goo feelings of love and epicness" and hope I can fill it in but it doesn't work. hmm. how do you write new love feelings? or describe how a character is feeling in her or his courtship? even if it doesn't last, I'd be curious to get your input.

Friday, December 16, 2011

the best Christmas me at least

so I thought I would list my favorite Christmas songs in keeping with my list of Christmas faves. now I love most every song except for that damn Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer. when I hear that song, I want to shove nails in my ears to prevent me from ever having to hear it again. anyway, enjoy!

Santa Baby as performed by Madonna. yes, I love this song. I love it's kitschy charm. really I love anything by Madonna so when she came out with this back in the day, I was hooked.

Silent Night as performed by Stevie Nicks. I love her voice. And hearing her sing all the verses of this lovely song is awesome. Actually if she sang it in its original German it would be epic.

Christmas in Hollis by Run DMC. AWW YEAH! who doesn't love this catchy song?! best part about this was it came out back when MTV still played music videos. remember that? no? well they did and this video was awesome.

Jingle Bells by the Barking Dogs. or maybe it's Dr Demento. either way... I freakin love this song.I could listen to this every hour the entire Christmas season and NEVER get tired of it. to me it's brilliant. I don't know why but it's like Shakespeare to me.

Christmas Wrapping as performed by The Waitresses. not really about Christmas but it has special meaning to me and my friends from where I used to work. I'll never start an IV at Christmastime without thinking of this song and my friends.

Do They Know it's Christmas as performed by Band Aid. GASP!!! once upon a time, when MTV played music  videos and there was new wave music and I desperately wished I was British, this song came out. and I loved it. I had the poster kind of like this pic in my room and I would just stare in teen love at  Sting and Tony Hadley from Spandau Ballet. then when the video would come on I would freak out!! now each Christmas, I listen to this beautiful song and think about what it was for and remember how lucky I am. I think Sir Bob Geldof did such a magnificent thing producing this song and making it part of Christmas. I also watch the vid on You Tube and try and name all of the awesome singers, like I could do back then. sigh.

so that's my list. kind of modern I know but here you go. And as a bonus...

Friday, December 9, 2011

My favotite Christmas specials or what I'm calling in sick for if they come on

okay, so someone I love suggested I put up a list of my favorite Christmas specials/shows so here it is. I chose these by weighing whether I would call in sick or be late to work to watch them. yeah, I know. I'm like that.

the Grinch. it's on enough so I wouldn't have to call in but I do love it. THIS version. NOT the live action version. I like the Boris Karloff narration. and the Tony the Tiger guy singing the Grinch song.

oh yes, Rudolph! I love this. I could watch it forever. so sweet. and it teaches a valuable lesson. I  freakin love those Rankin Bass shows!!

It's a Wonderful Life. yes. I love it. I watch it every year and still smile.

 the Flinstones Christmas. it isn't a special. it was a regular show during the season.I love it. Fred gets a job at Gimrocks as a gift wrapper to earn extra money for Christmas but ends up working as Santa and then being Santa. this is rare so yes indeed I'd miss work for this.

How the Ghosts Stole Christmas episode of the X Files. it has Ed Asner and Lily Tomlin in it. I love it. man I miss that show.

A Charlie Brown Christmas. it's a little older than I am and I remember it from my childhood. this is my all time fave. I have it on DVD and sometimes watch it when it isn't Christmas. it's sweet, naive, funny and perfect. I love it. it truly is my fave.

so that's my list. feel free to comment and let me know yours. next week I might do songs.

Friday, December 2, 2011

The Scrooge Rankings

well it's December and I thought I'd share my rankings of different Scrooges from my favorite Christmas story A Christmas Carol. now these are all my opinions and you might not agree but hey... feel free to comment. I'll go from least favorite to favorite.

Alistair Sim. I just didn't feel the menace and hard heartedness of his Scrooge. he was kind of a weenie and a bungler.

George C. Scott. he was too scroogey. even after he changed, I felt like he could still slip back to his old ways. he reminded me of Dick Cheney if he was Scrooge.(but isn't he?)

Mr. Magoo. now not that I don't like him. I do and I love this portrayal. just not as much as the rest of them.

Edmund Blackadder. again, I love this version. Blackadder's Christmas Carol. he's snarky and greedy and awesome. and I think Charles Dickens would have loved it. even if Mr. Scrooge didn't see the error of his ways.

Patrick Stewart. YES! LIKE A BOSS. to me this is the best Scrooge. he's bitter and cold but at the end his change is quite believable. I really felt sorry for him. besides the costars were awesome!

anyway, this is my line up. I'll probably watch A Christmas Carol about 19 times and once again try and make Smoking Bishop for our Christmas dinner. it's a mulled wine that is warmed. google it. you might want to try it.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

so check this out

my books are moving to my publisher's new imprint, Cambridge Press US. the website is up and running and they are open for submissions. they are looking for horror, paranormal and erotica. check them out at

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Happy Vladurday

well I'm back

so for a little over a month the blog has looked kind of like this due to, well, life. I started my new job on nights and I was quickly reminded that I'm not in my twenties anymore and can't work all night, sleep about 4 hours and then be good for the next 24 or however many hours. nope. I sleep like someone killed me for about 8 hours. and this shows no sign of slacking off. I don't know if I can keep this up because even though I sleep, I'm pretty useless the next day and that's just unacceptable for me.
then I went to the Florida Writer's Association's annual conference. it was terrific even though my novel Blood Betrayed didn't win an award. I had an awesome meeting with Marisa Corvisiero and got some stellar advice. so it was a win anyway. I'll definitely be back next year
also, I went on a fabulous trip to DC and NYC. it was probably the best trip of my life. I met my sweet secret boyfriend, we had a terrific time together and we went and saw Seminar with Alan Rickman. yes, I saw Alan RIckman in a play. live and up close and omg he was incredible. every writer or anyone connected with publishing should go and see this show!! its phenomenal. and not just because AR was in it. but that didn't hurt. then afterward the cast signed autographs for crazy fangirls like me. so I was like 18 inches from him while he signed my playbill. it was surreal. but my trip was incredible because I got to spend time with my fab boyfriend.
and then I've been doing NaNoWriMo. it's not going well. I am still lacking 16k words. lately writing has been like pulling teeth. I've been working on the same damn WIPs and the words just aren't coming like I want. 
anyway, so that's why I've been scarce. I know I suck. I'll do better.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

the one where I blow off steam about crap

I'm mad right now. in one of my classes we have a group project where we basically are a team playing a game like Risk. it's for extra credit. easy right? except it's a group project where inevitably one or two people do all the work. I'm one of those people. and I'm already pissed about it. I have no time or tolerance for that. I want and need the extra credit so I am actively working at the game. no one save a few people (2) are trying. I got so irritated that we missed making a move that I sent the professor an email and posted to our group that if you don't want to participate to let the group know and if I don't hear from people by 3 hours before when the move is due, I would be making it and that was that. yes, it sounds like a bitch move but we're adults. I refuse to carry 5 or 6 people and let them get credit when I am just as busy with the same demands. if you aren't a team player then get off the team or let me know so I can help you. I don't mind. but if you just sandbag in silence, I'm not doing that. and I'm going to not be nice about it. maybe tomorrow I'll feel better but right now I'm pissed and short tempered and not very amenable to sorriness.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Welcome Meredith Allard author of Her Dear and Loving Husband!And...a giveaway!

Please welcome Meredith Allard today. I'm super excited to have her guest blogging today!!! Plus she's graciously has offered a copy of her ebook for a lucky commenter! Just leave a comment about vampires, whatever you want to say, in the comments this week and I'll pick a winner next wednesday!

When I decided to write my first vampire novel, I realized I knew very little about vampires. But do you have to do research to write about vampires? Since vampires are imaginary creatures, I thought there wouldn’t be much studying I needed to do to write Her Dear & Loving Husband. The vampires I would be writing about are products of my creation and I didn’t need to read books to understand them.

Still, being a curious person, I had a lot of questions. Where did vampire stories come from? I thought Bram Stoker’s Dracula was the beginning of the craze, but it turns out he had been inspired by stories of the undead too. In earlier years, people explained whatever needed explaining through supernatural beliefs. If good things happened it was because of good spirits, and if bad things happened it was because of evil ones. In the years before science could explain medical oddities—like why some people sweat or cry blood or how someone could stop breathing and “come back to life”—people would say they were possessed by evil spirits. They had come back from the dead and they were to be feared.

Stories about dead friends, neighbors, and family members who had come back to life circulated throughout villages, beginning our fascination, and our fear, of vampires. Many societies all over the world have some stories in their legends and folklore about the undead. For those of us writing vampire stories today, we have the freedom to create our preternatural characters however we wish. The possibilities are endless.

As I considered the vampires for Her Dear & Loving Husband, I decided that I would stick mainly to conventional ideas. James Wentworth sleeps by day and lives by night. He’s immortal and will stay looking thirty years old forever. He drinks human blood. He has to learn how to live among humans without revealing his true nature because he knows how people can react when they’re confronted by things they don’t understand. As for garlic bulbs and signs of the cross, well, those are just Eastern European legends after all. And if you can live forever, I don’t see how some garlic can hurt you, though it might give you bad breath.

I love writing vampire novels because I can mold the vampire legend in my own way. It has opened up a whole paranormal/fantasy world I never knew existed, and I am enjoying spending time there.

Thanks Meridith!
Here's a bit about her

Meredith Allard is the author of Her Dear & Loving Husband and the executive editor of The Copperfield Review, a journal for readers and writers of historical fiction. Her short fiction and articles have appeared in journals such as The Paumanok Review, Muse Apprentice Guild, Wild Mind, Moondance, and Writer's Weekly. She has taught writing to students aged 10 to 60, and she has taught creative writing and writing historical fiction at Learning Tree University and UNLV. She lives in Las Vegas, Nevada.

website: http://www.meredithallard.com

Twitter - !/copperfield101

About her FAB book!!!

Her Dear and Loving Husband
By Meredith Allard
Published by Copperfield Press
Release Date: April 11, 2011
Genre: Vampire Romance

Book Description:

How long would you wait for the one you loved?

James Wentworth has a secret. He lives quietly in Salem, Massachusetts, making few ties anywhere. One night his private world is turned upside down when he meets Sarah Alexander, a dead ringer for his wife Elizabeth. Though it has been years since Elizabeth's death, James cannot move on.

Sarah also has a secret. She is haunted by nightmares about the Salem Witch Trials, and every night she is awakened by visions of hangings, being arrested, and dying in jail. Despite the obstacles of their secrets, James and Sarah fall in love. As James comes to terms with his feelings for Sarah, he must dodge accusations from a reporter desperate to prove that James is not who, or what, he seems to be. Soon James and Sarah piece their stories together and discover a mystery that may bind them in ways they never imagined. Will James make the ultimate sacrifice to protect Sarah and prevent a new hunt from bringing hysteria to Salem again?

Her Dear & Loving Husband is part historical fiction, part romance, and part paranormal fantasy. With elements of Twilight and The Crucible, Her Dear & Loving Husband is a story for anyone who believes that true love never dies.

Buy Links:


And an excerpt:


I am looking lovingly into the eyes of a man, though I cannot see his face because it is featureless, like a blank slate. We are standing in front of a wooden house with narrow clapboards, and there are diamond-paned casement windows and a steep pitched roof with two gables pointing at the laughing, hidden moon. I am certain I hear someone singing sweet nothings to us from the sky. From the light of the few jewel stars I can see the halo of his hair, like the halo of an angel, and even if I cannot see his eyes I know they look at me, into me. I stand on my toes, he is much taller than me, and I point up my face and he kisses me. As the warmth of his lips melts into mine, making me weak from the inside out, I feel my knees give from the thrilling lightness his touch brings. I know the face I cannot see is beautiful, like the lips I feel. His hands press me into him, clutching me closer, closer, unwilling to let me go. I grip him with equal strength, wishing he would carry me inside, yet I cannot bring myself to break our embrace.
“I shall never leave you ever,” he whispers in my ear. I promise him the same.
I do not know how I have been so fortunate to have this man in my life, but here he is, before me, wanting me. I am overcome with the joy of him.  


Sarah Alexander didn’t know what was waiting for her in Salem, Massachusetts. She had moved there to escape the smog and the smugness of Los Angeles, craving the dulcet tones of a small town, seeking a less complicated life. Her first hint of the super-natural world came the day she moved into her rented brick house near the historic part of town, close to the museums about the witch trial days, not far from the easy, wind-blown bay. As the heavy-set men hauled her furniture inside, her landlady leaned close and told her to beware.
“If you hear sounds in the night it’s ghosts,” the landlady whispered, glancing around to be sure no one, human or shadow, could hear. “The spirits of the innocent victims of the witch hunts still haunt us. I can feel them stirring now. God rest them.”
Sarah didn’t know what to say. She had never been warned about ghosts before. The landlady peered at her, squinting to see her better.
“You’re a pretty girl,” the old woman said. “Such dark curls you have.” She still spoke as if she were telling a secret, and Sarah had to strain to hear. “You’re from California?”
“I moved there after I got married,” Sarah said.    
“Where’s your husband?”
“I’m divorced now.”
“And your family is here?” 
“In Boston. I wanted to live close to my family, but I didn’t want to move back to the city. I’ve always wanted to visit Salem, so I thought I’d live here awhile.”    
The landlady nodded. “Boston,” she said. “Some victims of the witch trials were jailed in Boston.”    
The landlady was so bent and weak looking, her fragile face lined like tree rings, that Sarah thought the old woman had ex-perienced the hysteria in Salem during the seventeenth century. But that was silly, Sarah reminded herself. The Salem Witch Trials happened over three hundred years ago. There was no one alive now who had experienced that terror first hand. Sarah wanted to tell the landlady how she believed she had an ancestor who died as a victim of the witch hunts, but she didn’t say anything then. 
“Yes, they’re here,” the landlady said, staring with time-faded eyes at the air above their heads, as if she saw something no one else could see. “Beware, Sarah. The ghosts are here. And they always come out at night.”
The landlady shook as if she were cold, though it was early autumn and summer humidity still flushed the air. When Sarah put her arm around the old woman to comfort her, she felt her skin spark like static. She rubbed her hands together, feeling the numbness even after the old woman pulled away. 
“It’s all right,” Sarah said. “I won’t be frightened by paranor-mal beings. I don’t believe in ghosts.” 
The landlady laughed. “Salem may cure you of that.”  
For a moment Sarah wondered if she made a mistake moving there, but she decided she wouldn’t let a superstitious old woman scare her away. She thought about her new job in the library at Salem State College—Humanities I liaison, go-to person for English studies, well worth the move across the country. She saw the tree-lined, old-fashioned neighborhood and the comfort-ing sky. She heard the lull of bird songs and the distant whisper of the sea kissing the shore. She felt a rising tranquility, like the tide of the ocean waves at noon, wash over her. It was a content-ment she had never known before, not in Boston, never in Los Angeles. She was fascinated by Salem, looking forward to know-ing it better, certain she was exactly where she needed to be, whatever may come.

Sarah’s first days in the library were hectic since it was the start of an autumn term. She spent her shifts on the main floor, an open, industrial-style space of bright lights, overhead beams, and windows that let in white from the sun and green from the trees abundant everywhere on campus. Across from the librarians’s desk, a combined circulation and reference area, was a lounge of comfortable chairs in soothing grays and blues where some students socialized using their inside voices while others stalked like eagle-eyed hunters, searching the stacks or the databases.
By Wednesday afternoon, as she saw the short-tempered rain clouds march across the Salem sky, Sarah thought she would have to buy a car soon. After driving and dodging in nail-biting Los Angeles traffic for ten years, she liked the freedom of walking the quiet roads from home to work, watching in wonder as the leaves turned from summer green to an autumn fade of red, rust, and gold. But she had been living in the sunshine on the west coast for ten years, and she had forgotten about the sudden anger of New England thunderstorms. They could appear just like that, a crack of noise overhead, then a gray flannel blanket covered the sky as fast as you could blink your eyes, water splashing all around, wetting you when you did not want to be wet, and she was caught unprepared. She held out her hand and shook her head when she felt the drops splash her palm. Jennifer Mandel’s voice sang out behind her.
“Need a lift?”
Sarah wiped her palm on her skirt, grateful once again for Jennifer’s assistance. Jennifer had been the head librarian at the college for five years, and she had taken Sarah under her wing, showing her where everything was, introducing her to the rest of the staff, answering her questions. There was something almost odd about Jennifer’s intuition—she always seemed to know when Sarah needed her, like a clairvoyant magic trick. They sprinted to the parking lot, trying to avoid the sudden splats of rain soaking their thin blouses through, and they clambered into Jennifer’s white Toyota, laughing like schoolgirls jumping in puddles. Jennifer drove the curve around Loring Avenue to Lafayette Street, the main road to and from the college.
“Where were you before you came here?” Jennifer asked. “You’re obviously not used to the rain.”
“I worked at UCLA.”
“A small town like Salem must seem dreary after living in the big city.”
Sarah looked at Jennifer, saw the compassion in her eyes, the understanding smile, so she said just enough to make herself understood. “I’m recently divorced.”
Jennifer held up her hand. “You don’t need to explain. I have two ex-husbands myself.”
They drove quietly, letting the sound of the car’s accelerator and the rain tapping the windshield fill the space. As Sarah watched the small-town scene drift past, she thought it might not be so bad to drive in Salem. Everything back east, the roads, the shops, the homes, was built on an old-time scale, narrower and smaller than they were out west. But here people slowed when you wanted to merge into their lane and they stopped at stop signs, so different from L.A. where they’d run you over sooner than let you pass.
“Why don’t you come over tomorrow night?” Jennifer asked. “We’re having a get-together at my mother’s shop.” She leaned closer to Sarah and whispered though they were alone in the car. “I should probably tell you, and I’ll understand if you think this is too weird, but my mother and I are witches.”
Sarah studied Jennifer, her hazel eyes, her long auburn hair, her friendly smile. “You don’t look like a witch,” she said. 
“You mean the kind with black hair and a nose wart? The kind that fly around on broomsticks? Not that kind of witch.”
“You mean you’re Wiccan?”
“Yes, I practice the Wiccan religion, among other things. I’m the high priestess of my coven. I’m also licensed to perform weddings here in Massachusetts, in case you ever need someone to preside over a wedding for you.”
Sarah laughed. “I just got divorced. I won’t be getting married again any time soon.” She paused to watch the drizzle slip and slide on the windows. “I’m surprised there really are witches in Salem.”   
“Ironic, isn’t it? The city known for hanging witches is now a haven for mystics.” Jennifer shook her head, her expression tight. “Is this too much information? I don’t usually tell someone a few days after I’ve met her that I’m Wiccan, but you have a positive energy. You don’t seem like someone who’s going to assume I’m a Satanist who loves human sacrifices.” 
“I don’t mind. I’m just surprised. I’ve never known a witch before.”
“There are all sorts of interesting people you could meet around here.” Jennifer nudged Sarah with her elbow. “So will you come tomorrow night?”    
“I don’t know, Jennifer.” 
“You don’t need to participate in the rituals. Come make some friends. I think you’ll like the other witches in my coven. They’re good people.”   
A Wiccan ceremony did sound odd, Sarah thought, but she had always been fascinated by different religions and cultures. Librarians had to keep learning—a healthy curiosity was a job necessity. And it would be nice to know some people in Salem, even if they were witches.
As they continued down Lafayette Street, Sarah saw the sign for Pioneer Village and she added it to her mental to-do list. “I haven’t had a chance to see much of this part of town since I’ve been here,” she said.
“How about a quick tour then?”
“What about the rain?”
Jennifer turned right down Derby Street. “I’ve lived here my whole life. A little water doesn’t bother me.”
Jennifer drove down one tree-lined street, then down another street, and another until Sarah didn’t know where she was. Though Witch City was small, Sarah was still learning her way around. She tried to gauge her surroundings and saw the tall, white lines of the Peabody-Essex Museum, then further down was the Hawthorne Hotel. Past that was the brick, colonial-looking Salem Maritime National Historic Site. As she watched the history flip past, like a stack of photographs from time gone by, she noticed a house she thought she knew though she was sure she hadn’t been down that way before. The one that caught her attention had wooden clapboards, diamond-paned casement windows, and two gables on the roof. It was old, though it didn’t seem to be a museum as the other old buildings were.
“What is that house?” she asked. “It looks familiar.”     
“James Wentworth lives there.”
“Do you know him?”
Jennifer’s answer was stilted, as if she considered each word, weighed it, measured it, decided yes or no about it, before she let it drop from her lips. “He teaches at the college. He—his family—has owned this house for generations. It’s over three hundred years old, one of the oldest standing homes in Salem.”
Jennifer slowed the car so they could get a better look as she drove past. “Does it still look familiar?” she asked.
“Yes. Even that crooked oak tree in front seems right. I can picture the man I dream about standing in front there kissing me.”
“What dreams?” Jennifer gripped the steering wheel more tightly and her eyes brightened. “My mother’s friend Martha is great at dream interpretation. She’s done a world of good for me.” She winked at Sarah. “And you dream about a man? Is he a good looking man?”
Sarah pulled her arms around her chest, wishing she could take back her casual reference, afraid she had already said too much.
“Do you have a lot of dreams?”
“Yes,” Sarah said. But that was all she could manage. When Jennifer had waited long enough and Sarah had to offer something more, all she could say was, “It’s not a big deal. I just thought I knew the house from somewhere.”  
“A lot of houses around here look the same,” Jennifer said.
Sarah looked at the houses, the tall, Federal-style ones, the Victorian ones, the brick ones, the modern-looking ones. Sud-denly, as they drove around the green of Salem Common, the rain cleared, the sun brightened, and the clouds flittered away across the bay.
“That must be it,” she said.
She lowered the car window so she could smell the wet air. Though she missed the rain when she lived in Los Angeles, at that moment she was glad to see the serene blue reflection of the northeastern sky again.
They drove the rest of the way in silence.
Related Posts with Thumbnails

AR and his usual awesomeness!

the world's greatest picture

the world's greatest picture

life around here

life around here

Total Pageviews