Stupidity Move of the Day

LOL...Digiorno's pizza cooks faster when you remove the cardboard bottom. Go figure! Tastes better, too:)

Monday Man Candy

...nice!

Can you believe the month is almost over? Whew...!

The Stance

Some of you will most certainly relate to this. I taught my daughter to do this very thing.

My grandmother was a fanatic about public restrooms. When I was a little girl, she'd take me into the stall, show me how to wad up toilet paper and wipe the seat. Then she'd carefully lay strips of toilet paper to cover the seat Finally, she'd instruct, "Never, NEVER sit on a public toilet seat.

Then she'd demonstrate "The Stance, which consisted of balancing over the toilet in a sitting position without actually letting any of your flesh, makes contact with the toilet seat.

That was a long time ago. Now, in my "mature" years, "The Stance" is excruciatingly difficult to maintain. When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors.

Every stall is occupied. Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter. The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" is empty You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there were one, but there isn't--so, you carefully but quickly drape it around your neck,(Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume "The Stance.

In this position, your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper! Your thighs shake more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday--the one that's still in your purse. That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It is still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes open your stall door because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT.

It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper--not that there was any, even if you had taken, time to try.

You know that your grandmother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain, her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get." By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a firehouse that somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At that point, you give up.

You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women, still waiting.

You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. Where was that when you NEEDED it?)

You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restroom.

Oh, and let's not forget how to exit the bathroom without touching the door knob. You have two options. Either use the bottom of your blouse and wrap it around the knob and take a chance there won't be a man waiting for his wife on the other side, because sometimes you're showing more skin than you want. Or, wrap the paper towel you dried your hands on around the knob, open the door and leave the towel behind.

I did this once in a public restroom while on vacation and when I went back to the same restroom at the end of the day, the paper towel was still wrapped around the knob.

Hey, a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do!

Well...

...did I have a great Thanksgiving? You bet! Here's a picture of my family just as we sat down to partake in the feast. My daughter and I fixed dinner. It was a nice bonding time for us. And of course little Alivia had to help, so we let her make the fruit salad. My niece brought the pies and home made pumpkin cookies. Her talents in the kitchen are next to none but she did a terrific job on the cookies.

I tried to get dad to hop on a plane and come for the weekend but he decided to stay with my sister and her hubby in North Carolina. It would have been nice if we'd all been able to get together like we used to do when my mom was still with us.

I hope y'all had a wonderful holiday, too. How many of you went shopping on black Friday? My daughter got up early to meet some friends and they hit Wal-Mart for the sales. Not me! I slept in with Alivia.

This one's better with sound:)

Happy Turkey Day!

I'm looking forward to spending Thanksgiving with my daughter, her family, my niece and her boyfriend. In fact I'm heading to my daughter's after work Wednesday and will stay there until Friday night. I'm in charge of making the home made stuffing, stuffing the turkey and making the fruit salad.

I hope those of you who celebrate the holiday have a wonderful day!



The Old-Fashioned Thanksgiving

(Edgar Albert Guest, 1881-1959)

It may be I am getting old and like too much to dwell
Upon the days of bygone years, the days I loved so well;
But thinking of them now I wish somehow that I could know
A simple old Thanksgiving Day, like those of long ago,
When all the family gathered round a table richly spread,
With little Jamie at the foot and grandpa at the head,
The youngest of us all to greet the oldest with a smile,
With mother running in and out and laughing all the while.

It may be I'm old-fashioned, but it seems to me to-day
We're too much bent on having fun to take the time to pray;
Each little family grows up with fashions of its own;
It lives within a world itself and wants to be alone.
It has its special pleasures, its circle, too, of friends;
There are no get-together days; each one his journey wends,
Pursuing what he likes the best in his particular way,
Letting the others do the same upon Thanksgiving Day.

I like the olden way the best, when relatives were glad
To meet the way they used to do when I was but a lad;
The old home was a rendezvous for all our kith and kin,
And whether living far or near they all came trooping in
With shouts of "Hello, daddy!" as they fairly stormed the place
And made a rush for mother, who would stop to wipe her face
Upon her gingham apron before she kissed them all,
Hugging them proudly to her breast, the grownups and the small.

Then laughter rang throughout the home, and, Oh, the jokes they told;
From Boston, Frank brought new ones, but father sprang the old;
All afternoon we chatted, telling what we hoped to do,
The struggles we were making and the hardships we'd gone through;
We gathered round the fireside. How fast the hours would fly--
It seemed before we'd settled down 'twas time to say good-bye.
Those were the glad Thanksgivings, the old-time families knew
When relatives could still be friends and every heart was true.

~~~~~~~~

Monday Man Candy

Um...wow!

A Happy Family

Meet Author Emma Lai

Y'all know I like to invite authors to post here once in a while. Please say hi to Emma!



Bio:
Emma likes nothing more than a challenge. First,she tackled the male-dominated field of engineering. Next, she expanded her understanding of the world by studying international relations. Finally, her husband dared her to use her experience and knowledge and devote herself to writing. She accepted his challenge and has been writing ever since.

Writing keeps Emma sane. Her characters demand their stories be told and nag her incessantly until she complies. The characters are very insistent about her remaining faithful to their individual adventures. As a result, Emma writes a range of genres and levels of heat. She never knows what the next set of characters will demand!

Blurb for His Hope, Her Salvation:
Promised in marriage to an abusive oaf, Judith resolves to find out if there can be passion without love. Snatches of conversation overheard at the local inn lead her to a mysterious American merchant who might be able to satisfy her carnal curiosity and capture her heart.

Donovan, a Guardian Hunter, is on the trail of a rogue Elysian in Georgian England. As the son of the First Hunter, he long ago gave up hope of finding his heart's mate. When Judith appears in his study, his inner beast and his heart demand he answer her plea for help.

Will their passion answer their hearts' pleas, or will it wither under the threat of reality?

Excerpt:

The voices in the taproom of the Horse and Hound deafened us as we entered. A large group of men stood packed together in the center of the room. A roar ripped through the crowd as it surged inward.

I shoved my way through the mass of sweaty bodies with Eallair following in my wake. I stopped when confronted with the scene that held the crowd enthralled.

A large, older, well-dressed gentleman gripped my mysterious guest from earlier by an elbow. He shook her and yelled, “You little whore!” He raised a hand and slapped her across the face with his open palm.

The crowd cheered as she collapsed to her knees, her shoulder wrenched as the hand on her elbow restrained her from crumbling into a heap on the floor.

The dead look in her eyes and the lack of any outward emotion testified to the regularity of similar scenes she must have suffered. With a bellow of rage, I swooped forward and scooped her to her feet just as the old man raised his hand to strike her again. Placing my body between them, I snarled, “Release her.”

Holiday Fruit Salad

Man oh man Thanksgiving dinner is getting more expensive every year! I got up early and went to Wal-mart, spent well over $100 dollars. This year we're all responsible for a dish and I'm making the fruit salad and stuffing. I also got some eggnog because I know my niece likes it. And...because hubby is spending the holiday with his family in Boca Raton we're going to celebrate by making a little dinner on Sunday when he returns. So I also bought a Butterball turkey.

Of course, the money I spent wasn't just for Thanksgiving dinner items. But it sure got me to thinking how much I would have spent had I been prepared to cook the whole meal, like years before. It was my daughter's idea that we all contribute this year.

I'm sooooooooo ready for it to get here, being that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I'll get a few extra days off from work, too, which is always nice.

My fruit salad:
1 large can fruit cocktail - drained
1 small can mandarin oranges - drained
1 jar cherries - drained
2 bananas - sliced thin
1 cup fresh coconut - shredded
1 cup walnuts - chopped up
2 cups small marshmallows
1 apple - peeled and chopped up
1 medium size container of sour cream

Mix everything together. Makes a great side dish but I eat mine as dessert.

Manic Readers Blog Winners

Guess what! One week ago today I blogged at Manic Readers and promised two readers would be randomly chosen to receive a download of one of my books. It's All in the Jeans and The Cowboy Way to be exact. Congratulations to Linda H and Tara W...please contact me to claim your prizes.

It's All in the Jeans - Linda
The Cowboy Way - Tara

Tootles!

Texting

I just learned how! LOL And I'm only 54 years old...well, I will be very soon. What fun it is. However, the other day my daughter sent me three messages before I could even answer one. She said I'm slow. Well, duh! I can't see the small letters and I also have the kind of phone that doesn't have a keypad.

Yes and no questions are desired:)

Too Funny!

If you don't have sound, that's okay. You'll still laugh you butt off!

CUPID'S ARROW excerpt

Cupid's Arrow was my first book published with Whiskey Creek Press and was on their best sellers list for two consecutive months.


Emma watched Mike slowly approach the dugout and immediately began looking around for something to use on his eye. Spying a cooler, she opened it and grabbed a handful of crushed ice before it dawned on her she didn’t have anything to put it in. She looked around for Amanda’s bag, realizing she’d probably have something in there she could use. Finding it beneath the bench, she sat down and opened it with one hand, digging through the contents for the first item of clothing she saw. However, when she held it up, her mouth dropped.

Oh my!

She glanced up just as Mike stepped into the dugout and held her breath with embarrassment on discovering it was definitely not Amanda’s bag she was rifling through. Their eyes locked, well, his one good eye to hers, and a flush spread across Emma’s face that produced a full-fledged grin on his. His gaze lowered to take in what she was holding in her hand. Her confidence to handle the situation lagged considerably by the amusement swimming in his eyes.

“I, ah, usually know a woman a little longer before letting her, ah, handle my underwear,” he had the nerve to say, crossing his arms. He was thoroughly enjoying her dilemma.

Emma was speechless, drowning in the deep water of Mike’s eyes. Not only had she been caught going through someone’s bag, but it turned out to be his. She glanced at the underwear in question, her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets when a foiled condom packet fell out, landing on her lap. She dropped the boxers as if she’d grabbed a snake, ignoring the condom, too mortified to move. She knew she should say something but the words stuck in her throat. The ice melting in her hand reminded her of what she’d been doing, enabling her to finally act with some amount of normalcy.

Trying for a smile, she was barely able to lift her voice above a whisper. “I, ah, thought this was Amanda’s bag; she has one that’s very similar. I saw you get hit in the eye and was looking for something to put this ice in.” Mike surprised her by reaching forward. The closer he got the further she shrank back. But he only snatched the condom off her lap and tossed it back in his bag, his jaw tight as though trying to hold back a laugh.

“Is that for me?”

Monday Man Candy

Ohmygod! I'd love to get dirty with him!

Look who's a guest blogger over at....

MANIC READERS!

A couple books will be given away and I don't want anyone to miss out. So head on over there and leave a comment.


Manic Readers Blog

Happy Mental Health Day

Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have. Ralph and Edna were both patients in a mental hospital. One day while they were walking past the hospital swimming pool, Ralph suddenly jumped into the deep end.

He sank to the bottom of the pool and stayed there.

Edna promptly jumped in to save him. She swam to the bottom and pulled him out. When the Head Nurse Director became aware of Edna's heroic act she immediately ordered her to be discharged from the hospital, as she now considered her to be mentally stable.

When she went to tell Edna the news she said, 'Edna, I have good news and bad news. The good news is you're being discharged, since you were able to rationally respond to a crisis by jumping in and saving the life of the person you love. I have concluded that your act displays sound mindedness.

'The bad news is, Ralph hung himself in the bathroom with his bathrobe belt right after you saved him. I am so sorry, but he's dead.'

Edna replied, 'He didn't hang himself. I put him there to dry.... How soon can I go home?'

What a Beautiful Day!

I ended up doing a little more today than planned but it's all good. The weather is so beautiful that I herded the kitties into a back bedroom and opened up the rest of the house. Felt great airing out the place. Then I decided to wash all the area rugs. So they're all outside drying and sucking in lots of fresh air and sunshine.

If you're wondering why I shut the kitties up in a room it's because we live in an old house and the screens are old. The cats like to sit in the windows and I didn't want to take a chance on one of them going through the screen.

Gin Gin went to the vet this morning for her yearly. She's two pounds heavier than last year. Try putting one cat on a diet when you have three!

Awe come on...give me a kiss!

Awe...it's my Friday today and I soooo need this weekend! Want to get a lot of writing done. But more than that, I need some time to myself. Have to take Gin Gin to the vet in the morning and then get the shopping done but after that...it's me time. The housework can wait:)

What's one more week?

Welcome author Tracey Cramer-Kelly today folks! She's in the middle of a virtual book tour with Goddess Fish Promotions. She shares a little bit about herself and an excerpt of her newest book.

Bio -

How does your background in the military impact your writing?

I wasn’t a very good soldier. In fact, people often react with bemused surprise when they find out. “You?” they say. “You took orders from others?”

Not very well, I admit…but I was young!

I might have made a good officer, though. I was already bossy (as three of my younger siblings can attest to) and a bit of a control freak.

But I like to think I was a good medic. Where I responded to Army ‘regiment’ with near-distain, what I was trained for had the opposite effect: I loved it. I loved splinting a broken leg. Inserting an IV. Dressing a sucking chest wound.

Of course I approached my training with a ‘proper’ level of seriousness…but it was a sort of conceptual play. I joined to help pay my way through college (my real aspiration); never in my wildest dreams did I expect to be activated.

Desert Storm changed that. One day I came home to a blink on my answering machine (remember those?) and a message from my Sergeant: “call me immediately.” My friend said I lost all color in my face; my legs went shaky and I had to sit down. Turns out that the Military Police unit that shared our armory had been activated and the purpose for the call was to reschedule our monthly training. For the first time, it occurred to me that I might have to defend our country somewhere half-way around the world. That was not in my plans!

I had a lot of military friends. My BFF was Air Force ROTC, and she introduced me to my college flame, who was also an Air Force cadet. Today an ex-Air Force physician is one of my SMEs (Subject Matter Expert). Good friends from church lost their son in Iraq. And I have many motorcycling acquaintances who are involved with the Patriot Guard.

There was (is?) also a side to the military lifestyle that challenged every moral I was brought up with: the casual sex, the easy changing of partners, the marital cheating, even borderline harassment. When you’re immersed in an environment, you start to think it’s perfectly acceptable. Now I find that fascinating as fodder for characters.

The Army that I trained in is undoubtedly a different Army now—it has to be. Instead of broken legs, medics deal with ‘blown-off’ legs (or other body parts). It’s not just bullets that kill; it’s shrapnel. Traumatic head injury—common now—was barely covered in my training.

So how has my experience in the military affected my writing?

I think everything I write is affected by what I’ve experienced. I tend to view my experiences through a lens that others don’t have (‘how can I use this?’) Yes, there’s a healthy dose of imagination and plenty of creative license, but a seed has to be sown somewhere, and for me it is often the dual experience of military training and medical training.

I made the heroine of Last Chance Rescue (Jessie) an Iraq war veteran and gave her some of the qualities I saw in my fellow soldiers/medics (and perhaps myself). I did that because I enjoy writing medical drama, and because it gave her depth and plenty of ways for me to develop her character—and to have an impact on those closest to her (e.g., Brad).

What fascinates me now about today’s military is the juxtaposition between service to country and service to family. This inherent conflict is something I’m exploring in a short story (“The Heroes Left Behind”) and also in my current novel-in-progress (you can read more about that at http://www.lastchancerescuebook.com/writing.htm).

Excerpt -
The helicopter shuddered and swayed as it lifted off the helipad. Instinctively Brad Sievers gripped the edge of the bench, willing his stomach to calm down.

The chopper was so full he could hardly move, and he felt overly warm and claustrophobic. Though he wore a headset, he could hear the Colorado air pulsing through the giant blades above.

Minutes ago he'd been terribly insistent about tagging along on this search-and-rescue mission; now he wasn't sure it was a good idea. What the hell am I doing? he thought. I'm in advertising, for Chrissakes!

"Okay, listen up," the team leader said.

The movement of the chopper was so foreign to Brad that he had difficulty paying attention. The team leader talked about the missing snowmobilers -- what they looked like, where they were last seen and probable scenarios. He threw out a lot of numbers -- coordinates, Brad realized later -- and assigned teams to what he kept calling quadrants. "And Jessie will take our ride-along in CHIPS," he finished.

Brad had known Jessie Van Dyke since kindergarten -- in fact, it was entirely possible he'd chased her around the playground in "kiss and tell" -- but they'd been only casual acquaintances through high school. He hadn't seen her in ten years -- until he showed up at their high school reunion in Minnesota just weeks ago, hoping to impress his old crush, Aimee Kinderbach -- who blew him off in the end.

He must have had a blank look on his face because Jessie said, "CHIPS is our medevac chopper. It's equipped with heat-seeking equipment, electronic mapping, medical equipment -- the whole nine yards. It's parked at our rendezvous helipad." She tugged on Brad's harness, adjusting the fit like another woman would adjust a tie.

They disembarked on a plateau that was in the middle of nowhere according to Jessie. Brad wouldn't have known it; the plateau was lit up like the Fourth of July, a line of snowmobiles idling to one side. A blast of cold air hit him, making him thankful for the jacket.

Jessie tapped his arm. "This way." She led him around the helicopter they'd just landed in. Behind it was the smaller helicopter, CHIPS. It, too, had its propellers going.

Jessie swung open the back door and plugged in her headset.

"Hey guys," she said. "We've got company tonight."

She indicated that Brad should take the rear-facing seat, and showed him where to plug in his headset. She introduced him to "Pilot Sam" and "Navigator Rick."

"Brad's been hanging out with us and couldn't resist sticking around for the real thing." Jessie settled herself into the seat across from Brad.

A pair of lit-up computer screens in front of Rick caught Brad's attention. "How does that work?"

As if in response to his inquiry, a voice came over the radio. "Checking all systems ... all teams power up."

Lights began blinking on the computer screen. "Every team has a transmitter as well as GPS on their radio," Rick explained. "We can track them from above and the mission coordinator can track them from the base site."

Brad found himself riveted to the lights on the screen as the teams responded one by one: "Ready on Alpha." "Ready on Bravo." "Ready on Charlie ..."

It took him several minutes to realize what the words meant. "Team names?"

Jessie nodded. "Based on the military alphabet. That was the team leader, Dan, calling for the ready-check."

Finally Rick spoke into his mouthpiece. "We have audio and visual on all teams. We are ready to rock and roll."

"Ditto on the ground," another voice said. "Move out!"

The helicopter began to rise as snowmobiles passed it on the right. Out the rear window panel, Brad watched as the launch pad and snowmobile lights disappeared from view. "How do you know where to look?" he asked.

"Sometimes we don't," Rick said. "But in this case, we have fairly reliable information about where they are."

"If we didn't, we may have been put on standby until the ground teams found them -- or first light," Jessie said.

"Or if the weather was really crappy," Rick added.

"Here. Make yourself useful." Jessie was holding something that looked like a cross between binoculars and 3-D glasses. "They're night-vision goggles."

Brad wasn't sure what he was looking for but it felt better to be contributing, so he strapped the goggles on and peered out the window at the ground below. His thoughts drifted to the woman across from him…

Their chance encounter at the reunion had stuck with him after he returned to his new job in Dallas. He tried to forget the way she touched his lapel when she said, "I never would have guessed you for advertising; I didn't think that would give you fulfillment." And the way her eyes searched his when she teased him about being shallow.

And then he lost his job.

And the self-doubt -- was he the reason they'd lost the account? -- started eating at him. He'd been drinking himself to devastation every night, but it hadn't made him feel any better. If anything, that brief conversation with Jessie came to mind more often. So, on a half-drunken whim, he'd driven from Dallas to her home state of Colorado, intending to put her "shallow" comment to rest.

But the conversation didn't go the way he'd envisioned it ...

"Team Foxtrot has a visual." The voice cut into Brad's thoughts, jarring him back to the present. He wasn't sure how long they'd been flying.

"Cannot confirm it's our target," the voice continued. "We'll check it out."

"Are we close enough?" Sam said.

Rick was studying a map on one of the computer screens. "That's southwest of us about 20 miles," he said. "If it's not legit, we can circle back easily and still cover prime terrain."

It was Sam's turn to radio. "CHIPS to back up Foxtrot." He swung the chopper around.

"Affirmative, Chips II."

"Who's on Foxtrot?" Rick asked.

"That would be Micah and Ryan," Jessie said. Brad had just had a long conversation about stock car racing with Ryan, a young Vietnamese-American who was full of jokes.

Fifteen minutes later Rick said, "We're coming up on Foxtrot."

"They look stationary," Jessie said. "I have a visual on their objective ... looks like a wreck, all right."

Hey folks, another chance to win a Tory Richards book AND gift certificate for Bath and Body Works! Visit the link below and play.

Good luck!

Whipped Cream

BITCHOLOGY

When I stand up for myself and my beliefs, they call me a bitch.

When I stand up for those I love, they call me a bitch.

When I speak my mind, think my own thoughts or do things my own way, they call me a
bitch.

Being a bitch means I won't compromise what's in my heart. It means I live my life MY way. It means I won't allow anyone to step on me.

When I refuse to tolerate injustice and speak against it, I am defined as a bitch.

The same thing happens when I take time for myself instead of being everyone's maid, or when I act a little selfish.

It means I have the courage and strength to allow myself to be who I truly am and won't become anyone else's idea of what they think I 'should' be.

I am outspoken, opinionated and determined. I want what I want and there is nothing wrong with that! So try to stomp on me, just try to douse my inner flame, try to squash every ounce of beauty I hold within me. You won't succeed.

And if that makes me a bitch ,so be it. I embrace the title and am proud to bear it.

B - Babe
I - In
T - Total
C - Control of
H - Herself

Monday Man Candy

I like a nice chest, don't you? Nice abs...nice arms...nice hands...fills out his jeans real nice, too:)

Animal Cops

I like to watch animal cops. Not all the stories turn out happy but it makes you feel so good watching the ones that do. For the life of me I'll never understand how anyone can be cruel to an animal. All they really want is to be loved and they love you back unconditionally. If you don't want a pet, THEN DON'T GET ONE!!!!! It's that simple.

The show I watched yesterday infuriated me. I don't know how the animal cops can do what they do day after day and not want to take the law into their own hands and dish out some eye for an eye punishment! You cut an animal's ears off, we cut yours off. You set them on fire, we set you on fire. Is that unreasonable? Okay, okay, I know it is. But honestly, it breaks your heart when you hear about some of the abuse that goes on.

A lady brought a beautiful dark gray cat into the vets and said she didn't want it anymore. The poor thing didn't have any front paws. When asked about it, she said her ex-boyfriend tied rubber bands around the cat's paws real tight. The vet said the cat would have been in agony for a long time before the paws fell off.

The cat was absolutely beautiful, and despite how she'd been treated, had the sweetest personality. She'd learned to walk without her paws but was unable to groom her face like cats like to do. So they found someone to adopt her that would take the time to groom her face every day. And of course she had to be kept as an indoor cat, too.

I don't know if the cops were able to hold anyone accountable for her condition. It turned into a he said/she said situation.

I have three little fur balls. God help ANYONE who tries to hurt one!

Touching Story

John Gebhardt's wife, Mindy, said that this little girl's entire family was executed.. The insurgents intended to execute the little girl also, and shot her in the head...but they failed to kill her. She was cared for in John's hospital and is healing up, but continues to cry and moan. The nurses said John is the only one who seems to calm her down, so John has spent the last four nights holding her while they both slept in that chair. The girl is coming along with her healing.

He is a real Star of the war, and represents what America is trying to do.

This, my friends, is worth sharing. Go for it!! You'll never see things like this in the news. Please keep this going. Nothing will happen if you don't, but the American public needs to see pictures like this and needs to realize that what we're doing over there is making a difference. Even if it is just one little girl at a time.

James Gates U. S. Navy

AND THE WINNERS ARE...

Thanks to all of you who left comments on my post at Romance Junkies. Just like I promised, three lucky readers were chosen to win a download of THE COWBOY WAY. Congratulations, ladies. Please email me to collect your prize.

Lisa G
Carol L
Kim S

What one reader had to say...

I was given permission to post this review. Thank you Anna!

I absolutely loved It's All in the Jeans...laughing it up every time Libby had on her "Ruby" costume! The things we're willing to do for the ones we love eh...Overall, such a sweet and sexy read! Great job as always Tory! YOU ROCK!!! Girl, the sex scenes were steamin' & scorchin' & sizzlin'...and I'm pretty sure there was steam fogging up my macbook screen

Happy Reading!!!
Sincerely,
Anna

It's my Friday...

Whoo-hoo! Two mornings of sleeping in. Definition...7:00 AM the latest. I'm usually up every morning by 5:30, sometimes earlier. But I stay up a little later on Thursday and Friday nights. Nothing going on this weekend other than the usual. Grocery shopping and housework, sci-fi on Saturday. I've made a commitment to get a lot of work done on some finished projects.

If I get up enough ambition I might shave my legs:)

THE COWBOY WAY

Hey my friends, want a chance to win a download? Then head over to Romance Junkies Blog and leave a comment on my post about heroes. This Friday I randomly pick 3 readers to receive the book and will announce the lucky people here!

Good luck!

Just In!

I'm on cloud nine! You gotta check out these great reviews Manic Readers reviewers did for It's All in the Jeans and Wicked Desire...

It's All in the Jeans
Wicked Desire

Monthly Blog Giveaway

Hey friends, I moved it to the side bar on the right hand side so check it out. Wouldn't want anyone to miss out on collecting their surprise:) I also announced October's winner in the newsletter that just came out.

Good News, Huh?

Now that my monthly newsletter is out I can spill the beans. I'm so excited to announce that The Wild Rose Press has offered me a contract for All the Right Moves! A previously published ebook. In order to meet print, that's right you heard me, print guidelines I added 20,000 words which includes a whole new last chapter. It will also receive a new book cover. If you enjoyed the ebook you'll love the print version.

I'll keep y'all informed:)

Monday Man Candy

Aw shucks, he's sleeping! Probably tired of all that riding he has to do.

This is how I feel by the end of my work week

Jack and Jill get Married

Jack was going to be married to Jill, so his father sat him down for a little fireside chat.....

He said "Jack, let me tell you something. On my wedding night in our honeymoon suite, I took off my pants and handed them to your mother, and said, 'Here, try these on.' "

So, she did and said, 'These are too big, I can't wear them.'

"I replied, 'Exactly. I wear the pants in this family and I always will.' "

Ever since that night we have never had any problems."

"Hmmm, "said Jack. He thought that might be a good thing to try. So on his honeymoon, Jack took off his pants and said to Jill, "Here try these on."

So she did and said, "These are too large, they don't fit me."

Jack said, "Exactly. I wear the pants in this family and I always will, and I don't want you to ever forget that."

Then Jill took off her pants and handed them to Jack and said, "Here, you try on mine."

So he did and said, "I can't get into your pants."

Jill said, "Exactly. And if you don't change your smart ass attitude, you never will."