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ÌýSomehow it's been a year already. Somehow it's taken forever to get here. I feel both at the same time. Luckily, I've never been one to feel time is a real concept.

One year ago, my father, my first best friend, my teacher, my mentor left this plane. I was in the hospital with my mother, my younger brother, and my Godmother. I sat by my father while his breathing became more labored and more auto pilot. I hate listening to that breath. I know, from previous hospital visits, it is the last of breaths. I needed a break. We took turns eating lunch, so no one would have to eat alone. My brother and mother went first, then I went with my Godmother. The cafeteria seemed to be miles away. Floors down, long hallways. I thought we'd never get there. I didn't so much care to eat, but I thought I should keep my strength up. So, we sat, and we started eating. I was halfway through my sandwich when two young nurses approached our table. Asking for me, I said, "He's gone isn't he?" To which they replied, "Yes, we're so sorry." We wrapped up our leftovers and started the treck back to the room. There was a two visitor minimum in these crazy times, but after a passing, as many people could be in the room as you wished. So we all gathered there into one big hug. We sat in the room for a while. Another nurse (they should really be referred to as hopspital angels or something more descriptive to what they truly are) asked if any of us would like a mini printout of his last heartbeat with a lock of his hair. I immediately said yes, while my mother initially said no. I told the nurse we would take two, so if she changed her mind later, I would have it. She changed her mind right then, so two it was. I still have it somewhere in my jewelry box. I intended to make some sort of pendant with it, but haven't gotten around to it.

I took a picture of the time on the wall. I knew I'd never remember. I don't like to remember death dates, but this was the biggest one I've experienced yet, so I started taking pictures. I wasn't even sure why or what good they would do, but something about it made me feel better. I was thinking I'd share them with my family, but again, I haven't gotten around to it. So, this post seemed the proper place for some of them.

This day falls between two family birthdays; my sister and my youngest child, who are 5 days (and some years) apart. I was grateful Dad chose to leave in between them, and not on one of them. It still weighs heavy though.

I've always loved Autumn. I love the crisp air, the changing colors and the incredible transition the Earth needs to take in order to get to Winter. It is amazing. Dad never liked Autumn. He thought it was too full of death. "Everything around you is dying. It's depressing," he would say. I silently disagreed. I was born in the beginning of Autumn, and I couldn't remember a time I didn't love it. The start of school, apple season, pumpkin carving, Halloween, Thanksgiving, it was all a magical time to me. Dad passed in Autumn. Will I still love it the same? I worry about that a little bit.

Making our way through the holidays for the first time without one of our main characters was...well...interesting. My family scattered to the winds. Half of us siblings and families made it to Mom's for Thanksgiving. That was nice, even though a bit small from our usual 30 or so folks. Christmas time was altogether different. My sister recently moved down south, so we knew we wouldn't be seeing them. Also, my brothers and their families take turns alternating Christmas and Thanksgiving, so this was the Thanksgiving year. So, Christmas was going to be quiet...extra quiet...Mom decided to go to CT with my older brother and family. It was just going to be me and my family here for Christmas this year. For the first time in my 51 years, I'd be away from my nuclear family. Ok, I thought, it's different yes, but that doesn't mean it will be bad. My husband's family is still in town, and we made plans to do Christmas Eve with them, per tradition. So, that felt nice. It ended up being just my brother inlaw, and his two sons, because the weather did not want to cooperate. But it was still a nice time. Just different.

A reminder that everything is different from now on.

Somehow we all made it through the winter. Some video group chats, a few visits down south, and next thing, Spring was here. That means, for me, I get busy at work. Our season starts in the Spring, and is busy until November. I don't really remember if there were any poignant moments, or meaningful times, but another holiday came and went, and I hardly even remember what we did. Easter was a blur, and even looking back at pictures, there basically were just pics of the food and a couple of terrible candids. Very unlike me. I have been photographing family events and holidays since I could hold a camera. Guess I wasn't feeling it, even though my younger brother and Mom were there for a nice meal. I'm sure it was a nice day.

Summer time brings extra family visiting at the lake, where my mom lives. It is where we spent every summer growing up, and when my parents sold their house, they moved there. They share it with my aunt and uncle who stay in the summer time. They've done that since before I was born. I was glad they would be there this year with Mom.

The first visit back to the lake once the house was more open to the lake side was, I believe, for Mother's Day. I stood on the front lawn and thought, "Oh no. I don't like this at all." The feeling of Dad missing struck pain in my heart. We've never had a summer at the cottage without him. Ever. And even though he wasn't fully himself the last several summers, his energy was still him. We could sit next to him and enjoy it, even if his mind wasn't put together right anymore. I made a promise to myself right there on the front lawn. I would not be coming back here this summer sober. I know, I know, everyone with an issue with this is probably thinking, "Oh no! Don't do it!" But I did. Every time I went to the lake, which was a lot, I was either high, buzzed, or both. Not to the nth degree where I couldn't function, but just enough to help dull the pain in my heart. I didn't want to face it. I was afraid of how bad it would get. Father's Day, Dad's birthday, so many other birthdays, 4th of July, my youngest's high school graduation. I knew all of these were going to happen without Dad. And they were going to be celebrated at the lake where he wasn't anymore. I couldn't take the thought. So, I numbed.

This summer also brought a celebration of life for Dad. Mom invited family and friends and everyone came together for the day to remember him. It was really a wonderful day. There were so many people from different times in his life, and to see them all together was really heart warming. Dad would have loved it. He was such a people person, and loved those closest to him dearly. It was his favorite thing to have his tribe around him. It was a lovely, loving day.

That day must have helped my heart begin to heal a little bit. After that, I didn't find it so necessary to numb out while I was at the lake. Not that I didn't keep doing it for a bit longer, but by the end of the summer, I found myself there wihout having taken anything for the pain. Somehow, my heart found healing.

Now, here we are, one year later. Having gone through all the motions without this main character in our lives. Everyone is doing alright, I believe. Mom is a freaking superstar. She spent most of the year visiting her children, grandchildren and friends and relatives. She was quite the jet setter! She likes to be busy, and she's good at finding things to stay that way. She has also been wonderfully open with her feelings as they come, and that has been a true gift. I've seen her making a new way for herself, as her life is totally different than it was a year or more ago. She is strong and amazing, as always to me.

Do the tears still flow? Yes, but perhaps not as frequent and furious as they when they started. Bouts of sadness, joy, giggling have all spontaneously occurred with memories and moments. The pain in my heart feels somewhat healed. I know the scar will forever remain. Just like the love my first best friend taught me to have for life and the people I love.

I was in a dream. It wasn’t terribly memorable, or significant. There were dreamy things coming and going like they do, and my mind just going along for the ride. A lot was happening, as dreams can do, and it is hard for me to put into words just how I got there.

There was a friend of a neighbor visiting me with two girls. They were looking to borrow some cups for the girls, and I was showing them the shelf they were on and going through the several different ones they could choose from (none of which I actually own in the awake realm).

There was a change of scenery. There was a delivery of some sort of jarred goods from the neighbor’s friend. Two boxes, one came with broken jars. I was trying to stop her from leaving so I could tell her about the broken jars, and as in dreams, it became impossible to get her attention. I think I tried following her, and then I was gliding through thoughts most randomly and quickly. Too quickly to pinpoint the moment it occurred to me�

“Why can’t people just be happy?� I heard in the ether. A conversation I’m sure I’ve had in the past with my father.

My father who passed from this realm last October. Then it dawned on me, much like it does every day, that he is gone. That these conversations that were so very good to have with him won’t be happening anymore. “But I have an answer now,� I thought, perhaps out loud. “Because they are stifled. Their emotions are so suppressed, they don’t know how to be anything, let alone happy.�

There was no response, of course. The sadness that creeps up on me every day came upon me, and even though I was in the dream realm, and not sure exactly where I was, I tried to stifle it. My eyes started tearing, and I tried to push them down. This is an old habit, and apparently one that my dream self was most comfortable with. I was still looking for the woman who’d delivered the jars so I could tell her, but the dream realm had other plans.

I’ve been having a lot of what I call, “busy dreams,� lately, where I try to complete a task, but 1,000 other things happen that get in my way. I usually have these when my body is tense and my mind is busy. Thankfully, I forget them shortly upon waking. But it is a wake up call for me to get some rest for both body and mind.

So, as I was stifling tears, and looking for this woman, I found myself in a place. I find it hard to describe, other than it was open, and felt like a combination of a bar and an athletic department in a school (and no, not a sports bar). There were two large rooms with a large opening between them. As I stood there wondering where I was and where to look for this woman, an old family friend walked up to me. She was wearing an oversized green wind breaker with some college team’s logo on it in white, and holding a blue key lanyard. “Carol!� I exclaimed, surprised and somewhat happy to see her. “Hi there,� she said as we paused and moved awkwardly into a stiff hug. “Have you seen Anthony?�

“Anthony? No, I haven’t seen him in years, a very long time.� I don’t know who Anthony is. In my mind, she was referring to her husband, who’s name is not Anthony that I know of.

She kind of wandered off, I assumed to keep looking.

I felt comfortable in this space, whatever it was. People were coming and going, not much interaction, but it felt like a good vibe. Now that I think about it with my awake brain, it felt like some sort of terminal, but I wasn’t aware of any type of transportation.

I went to walk into the second room. As I rounded the opening, I almost walked right into him; my dad. There he was bold as life, looking amazing and happy. So very happy. He wore a white, short-sleeved, button down shirt with thin green criss-crossed weaved lines through it. Khaki slacks and carrying wallpaper books by their roped handles. His face was glowing and smiling. So happy.

Ìý Ìý Ìý

(Trying to capture the energy he had. These pictures come close. His smile was just like these.)

My surprise was overwhelming and also happy. We looked at each other, acknowledging each other and instantly hugged. Suddenly I knew. This wasn’t a dream. This was a visit. Thinking about him brought him to me, or me to him. In the moments of hugging, I said, “I miss you!� He hugged me tighter. It was wonderful. There was so much happiness. My uncle, his younger brother, who is still in this realm, was in the background, like he was just waiting to see if I needed him, or maybe waiting his turn to visit. Stoic and loving. My Dad didn’t reply. There were no words exchanged after my exclamation, and then I woke up just before the alarm went on.

This wasn’t the first visit I’ve had with my dad since he left this realm. He has been in my dreams a few times now. But it was very different. You see, when he left this realm, he was quite out of his mind. He was not aware of reality at all. He had suffered a stroke six years prior, and since that time, dementia had taken hold of him, and deteriorated his brain slowly and painfully. It was very hard for all of us who love him to watch. Especially my mother, who became his main caretaker. It was her full (very full) time job. I’m sure it was horrifying for him to actually go through, sometimes knowing his brain wasn’t right, and not knowing what he could do about it.

Ìý ÌýÌý

I was in the hospital when he passed. Not in the room, but there shortly after with my mom and younger brother. I knew he had gone, but also that he was going to need time before I heard from/saw him again. I knew I would, because I have seen others who have passed in my dream state. They are different from dreams, I know this from these past visits. I knew I would have to be patient and give him time to understand what had happened. I knew he would be reconnected to his full self, and it would take time to process all that occurred these last six years. I also knew that time is a man made concept, and energetic time is completely different, and that my dad has always been open to other realms and other worldly ideas. So, really, I had no idea when I might hear from him, but I knew I had to have patience.

Pazienza.

I’ve had a few “visits� from him in my dream state. They weren’t exactly how I’ve had other visits. Perhaps it’s because I wasn’t as patient as I should be, and just really wanted to see him. The first couple he was there, in a bunch of people, family and others I didn’t know, but he was in the background, not speaking, not interacting with anyone. I took these like an update on how his healing was going. I appreciated them, even though they were minimal.

Pazienza.

Then there was one where I ran into him and went to hug him, and he put his hand out to shake my hand, and said, “Well I think we should get to know each other first!� I knew this wasn’t the time, but he was starting to acclimate to his surroundings.

Pazienza.

Ever see the movie What Dreams May Come with Robin Williams? When I saw that movie many years ago, I was blown away. I had recently lost a dear friend, and was trying to figure out how to mourn. I was a mess. I dove into this movie full force, getting the book and reading it twice or more. Crying. Crying. Crying. Trying to understand death and all it means. Gosh, I was young then (in my twenties). There is a scene in that movie where Robin’s character first gets to his version of heaven. He learns to manipulate his world, and makes it beautiful. My Dad always loved that scene, and I knew that’s what he was learning to do. Painting his world just how he would love it.

Pazienza.

It paid off. The waiting. The grief. The feeling of loss. I can’t help when my defensive mind goes to sleep, and my desires go out into the dream realm. And there he was. Recognizing me and all. The hug was just as real as anything in this realm.

When he passed, all I could think of was, “He’s gone.� In fact, that’s what I texted my family to let them know. That’s all I felt. That’s all I knew. He’s gone. Even though I knew it wasn’t permanent, I felt the incredible absence.

This morning when I woke up, all I could think of was, “He’s back!� (HP reference, but in a much more positive way!) So yeah, he’s back, and it makes my heart and soul happy once more. I know there will still be more time with him, even if it is in my dream state. And maybe there will be great conversations to be had after all. 💕

Ìý

If you are in the mood to taste this dark & spicy season, this is the recipe!

Apple Topping

3 (2 large) apples of your choice

1 tsp cinnamon

1-2 dashes of:
CloveÌý Ìý Ìý Ìý Ìý Ìý Ìý Cardamom
NutmegÌý Ìý Ìý Ìý Ìý Ìý Ìý Ìý Ginger *

3 tbsp butter

1/4 cup brown sugar (I prefer dark brown)

3 tbsp maple syrup

Mix all ingredients except butter. When combined place into well greased and parchment papered cake pan. (I placed a circle of parchment paper in the bottom of the pan, greasing on both sides of the paper and the rest of the pan. Cut butter into small pieces and dot across the Apple mix. Set aside.

Cake Mixture

2 cups flour of choice (I used 1 cup oat flour, 1 cup gluten free flour mix)

2 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp clove

1/4 tsp cardamom

1/4 tsp ginger *

2 dashes nutmeg

1/2 cup brown sugar

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

6 tbsp butter

1 egg

1/4 cup milk (regular, almond, or your choice)

1/4 cup apple cider

1/4 cup maple syrup

1 tsp vanilla

1/2 almond extract

Blend first 7 ingredients together. Cut in butter like for pie crust. In another bowl, combine rest of ingredients. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients. Mix until just combined. Pour over apples in cake pan. Bake at 375 degrees for 25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Let sit for 5-10 minutes. Turn out on plate and remove parchment paper. Enjoy!

* For any of the spices, you can substitute essential oil equivalent. I used one drop of ginger oil in both the apples and the cake mixture instead of ground ginger.

When I was small, I wished for a little sister. I had two brothers and a family dog, and I felt left out. I felt like I had lost someone in my life, and was sad that they were not here with me. I used to tell my parents I wanted a sister.
"The boys have each other, you two have each other, and all I have is the dog!" I would complain. (Sorry for all you dog lovers out there, but she was not my dog, she was there when I arrived. For the record, she was the best dog I've ever known.)
Very lucky for me, my parents did decide to have another child. By luck or by fate, they had a girl. They gave me my sister.

I was thrilled to find out on the day she was born that she was a girl. I remember it well, because I was actually sick that day with a stomach flu. I had to go to school anyway, as my parents didn't know what else to do with me! My mom had to go to the hospital!
My teacher knew the circumstances, and these were the days where there was less protocol, and more common sense. She let me rest whenever I needed, and told me I only had to do the work if I felt I could. I made it through the day and went off to the babysitter's house.
I was sleeping when my dad called to tell me I had a baby sister. He knew I would be so excited. I remember hearing the one sided phone conversation, but my sleep kept me from reacting. Until my babysitter patted my shoulder and said, "Deedee. You have a baby sister."
I smiled, feeling so excited that she was finally here, and went back to sleep.
To any outsider watching my reaction, they probably would have thought I didn't care much at all. Inside, I was elated. I loved her already, and we hadn't even met. She was the sister I always wanted.
I thought I was complete. Our family of 6 felt perfect. Two boys, two girls, and two parents. Of course, it wasn't always smooth and cheery. We had our times of arguing, and strife. But I always felt that my baby sister was here for me (even when she did what she wanted to do, instead of what I wanted her to do).


As I became an adult, I came to realize that she wasn't here for me exactly, of course, but we definitely were put here together on purpose. We have a connection much deeper than this life, for certain.
I thought the two of us were it, forever. No matter who else we ended up with, or where life might take us, we would always be a pair.



I was wrong.
Another thing I knew at a very young age, was that I wanted to have children some day. I knew this at the core of my soul, and I knew it would happen some day. My young adult self thought I had control over when it happened, and I guess to some degree, that's true. But when I think back on it with what I know now, I really didn't have a say in it at all.
I feel that what happens is agreed on ahead of time, and we stumble through this realm into the path we were meant to have (be it good, bad or ugly).

What I didn't realize is that perhaps I was still waiting for someone to arrive. Perhaps our sister pair was not quite the complete picture I thought it was.

My first pregnancy was ultra planned. I kept track of everything, as best as a Virgo can, and thought everything was perfect.
Do you think you're having a boy or a girl? Everyone loved to ask me that question.
How should I know? I've never been pregnant before, and I don't know what they feel like at all!ÌýBe it a girl or boy, I didn't care.

We went to my first ultrasound eager and excited. Soon to be grandparents joined us. The technician asked me several times if we wanted to know the sex. Yes! Who wants to wait any longer? (Several people, come to find out, like to wait until the baby is born. I couldn't wait another second.) As she was asking me if I was sure, I saw it all on screen. I looked at a picture of inside my belly to see inside my baby's belly, and saw... ovaries. There they were plain as day.
"Say it. Say it. It's a girl." I said in my head over and over. Apparently this woman wanted to be really sure I was sure. Then she told us we were having a girl, and that she looked good and everything was in its right place and right time.
Joy!
Every day from that time on was joyous.
When she was born, I woke up to every day feeling like Christmas for me. What will today bring? What will she do? What will she look like? What will I be able to show her? Every day for her first year held this bliss. (Aside from a lack of sleep, and trying to get myself back to work, and also building our own house all at that time.)




The parenting role happens so quickly, so tightly, so finite, I hardly noticed it being a role. Taking care of our children just became part of my life every day.
I became so-and-so's mom quickly, and it felt nice.
The years sometimes feel like they roll by like film in an old projector. It's quick, and there is a lot to see, with a definite story, not sure if you like it all or not, but then, next thing you know, 20 years have gone by. Yes, 20.





Conversations with my children have gone from me teaching and giving advice to them, to us discussing life and giving each other advice. It's freaking fabulous.





My daughter tells me I'm her best friend. When she first started telling me that, I thought, "How cute. She'll find someone she likes better some day. This won't last long."





She's 20, and she still tells me that. After many years of this, it dawned on me that she too is my best friend. When did that happen? Oh yeah, when life rolled by on the projector.
What do you know? I have two women in my life that are my best friends!







I had no idea that I'd been waiting for another sister to come into my life, and here she was! I feel so tied to these ladies, words cannot do justice to the bond I feel. There is definitely some past lives shared together here. There is a lot of love, caring, compassion. Even though we may have different titles here in this life, to me, we are always the three sisters.

Soft fuzz forms on the tips of blooms to come.They plump with anticipation.Birds soar the sky for the first time in months.Pointing their way to their Northern destinations.


The white landscape turns to caramel under the closer heat.Hills transform into mounds of sugary sweetness.


Sweet water runs from the maplesSharing their golden splendor with us.


Seeds itch.Ground softens.Bodies transform.Sun shines.We are springing.

Like the title says, I don't care that a gay club got shot up.
What?! How could I say that?!
Because it's horrific regardless of the sexual preference of the people in the club.
I don't care if the shooter had "issues" for years before this.
I'm sick of hearing about how these ultra violent psychopaths had "issues".OBVIOUSLY!!!
But did ANYONE do ANYTHING about them???
NO
We wait until something tragic, horrible, unimaginable happens. Then we look at the killer's life with sadness and anger in our hearts.

We criticize everything about that person's life. We wonder, "Why didn't someone know before this?" Or, "Why didn't someone help this person, or put this person away before they went crazy?"


I don't care about gun control.
It's completely politically incorrect to say that, and I don't care. I'm sick of political agendas being attached to human tragedies and having those tragedies exploited for political gain.
Killing people is a tragic thing. Mass killings under any religion, terrorist group, radical beliefs, political views, or any other reason you can think of is wrong. Killing is horrible. To take a life away from this earth before it was ready is not anyone's business to do.
What about killing for a cause? Aren't there wars that have killed hundreds of thousands of people in the name of freedom, or power, or promises?
Yes, and they're wrong. All killing is wrong. It's unfortunate that we, as a human race seem to drive ourselves to it time and time again. It is the extreme we go to to prove a point. A point that we lose sight of when the killing starts.
Then it simply becomes kill or be killed. Protect yourselves and your loved ones, or surrender your weapons to a government so they will "protect" you. (Not really a fan of that last.)
So, where does this leave us as the human race? What are we doing here? Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?


Peace and love, and peace and love. We preach it, but do we practice it?
Do we love each other every single day?
Do we love the psychopaths before they commit mass murder?
Do we love the radical terrorists after they suicide bomb?
Do we love the "crazy" neighbor down the street.
Do we teach our children to love the misfit in the classroom, on the playground, on the bus? Do we love the misfit?
Because we need to. We need to love all of them as much as we love ourselves and our loved ones.
Maybe therein lies the problem...
Do we love ourselves???
If we did, I'm pretty sure we couldn't take another life, no matter the sex, race, religion, sexual preference of another.

When we start to teach our children to love themselves and to treat others as they would want to be treated (oh, is my Catholic showing? #sorrynotsorry), perhaps then we can spread the love to those who are in true need.
I do care that there was so much senseless violence over the weekend, and continues every single day in every part of the world. I pray for peace and love every day, and strength to help others in need.
Amen.

Today I get to post twice! Such an amazing time celebrating books, books, books!So, to go along with our two-for-one, let's meet a duo who together have published a terrific looking novel! Not only that, but they are sisters to boot!I am so excited to be one of the first to see the cover, and hear all about it! So it is such a thrill to be able to present it to you!
Let's meet these terrific gals!
With one sister a debuting author and the other a debuting publisher, how can it go wrong?
A. Claire EverwardKate Anne Everward


“Forever Looking Forward�. That’s their motto. And that was what they were thinking when they decided to drop everything and just do it.








Once upon a time a sister told her sister that her imagination is going wild, that she has so much to say and stories chasing through her head (don’t worry, no voices) and that escaping into that endless world of imagination makes everything (well almost everything�) tolerable. So the sister sighed indulgently and told her sister, you want to write, write. We’ll publish. People love to read.
Anna Claire Everward is now an author with already two book series on their way. And her sister? Kate Anne Everward became her publisher and PR agent. That’s how Author & Sister was born.



Ready for the book yet?





Let's see what it's all about!




The First A debut novel by A. Claire Everward
Find Her.Is the ancient directive that has once again reawakened in the hearts of those who hide.Kill Her!Is the frantic command of those who fear their rise.Aelia returns from a vacation that did not go quite as she expected, to a life she does not quite feel at home in but that is, at least, hers. Or so she thinks. Within days of returning she is targeted by a hit man and she has no idea why.But then neither does he. All Kyle Rhys knows is that to protect humanity, this woman must die. At least, he thinks, killing her will be easy. After all, the organization that has raised him has prepared him for her death his entire life.So why can’t he kill her?

What? Whaaaat? Need to know more?!











Is this cover gorgeous, or what?




































Let's meet this fabulous new author!!

A. Claire Everward takes the world far too seriously. Passionate and sensitive to her surroundings, she takes it all to heart, sometimes too much so. but it makes her fight for what she believes in. She is direct, although she tries not to be, at least not always. Like every artist she has her quirks, some understand them and some don’t. She prefers to keep to herself and spend time with her characters, and for her escaping into writing is always the best refuge. She would say it maintains her sanity but her sister Kate says that sanity does tend to be overrated.
Claire spent years away from home getting an undergraduate degree in aerospace engineering and a graduate degree from the same faculty, with a risk management specialty. During that time she lived in the university, surrounded by forested hills and too much silence, and so to keep away the boredom she also took on an MBA, and now she feels ridiculously over-educated.
She tried to work in her field, she really did, and even put her education to good use in the finance field for a while. But eventually her love for writing took over, and she decided to leave it all and move to the world of her imagination. Her characters had a lot to do with that—they had lived in her mind, waiting patiently for her to be ready, for too long, they felt, and so they finally decided enough is enough and took over. And Claire didn’t put up that much of a resistance. She has always loved to read, but writing, that’s a whole new world she soon knew she could never give up.
She lives with her two cats, a brown tabby named Mary Boleyn who is much smarter than her and who likes to take over her laptop exactly when she wants to write, otherwise she starts throwing all kinds of stuff off the desk, and a black cat named Henry VIII who loves to jump on top of the kitchen cabinets and scream at the ceiling. Especially at five in the morning.
Nowadays, when she’s not rudely peeping into the lives of her characters, or having in-depth conversations with them, which she does tend to do quite often, Claire actually manages to do some writing. The First is only the first of her novels. With a sequel on its way and a whole new series to follow, Claire is turning her dream to be an author, a reality.



The second half of this incredible duo!

After ten years working as a PR expert specializing in crisis and reputation management, voicing other people’s thoughts and needs and making sure they got what they want, Kate knew it’s time for a change. She’d always been a dreamer, a bookworm who escaped to her imagination when things got tough, and when her sister, another bookworm (they got it from their bookworm mother) came to her and told her she wanted to be a writer, and already had stories and books to show her, Kate decided to help her dream come true.
And so from crisis manager she became a book publisher/marketer/literary PR agent. Her career had taught her how to fight for what she believes in, and she was tenacious to begin with, and now she’s using it all. While her sister writes, Kate is learning everything she can about the traditional and self-publishing world, and is talking to anyone, anywhere out there. She and her sister Claire have now created Author & Sister, so they can publish Claire’s books and tell the world their story.
Kate lives with her laptop (Yogi) and her 10 kg gorgeous red-haired cat who never sleeps. At least not when she wants him to. She is now starting to voice her thoughts, dreams and truths in her and her sister’s blog and is even considering writing a story of her own.


Want to stalk? Here's where to go!




Twitter and InstagramÌý@authorandsister
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While you're in the mood to stalk, I can't say goodbye without a self plug. Ìý;)Feel free to check out my for Sigrun, the Bandamann Saga!


Have a wonderful weekend, and have fun at the book fair!

Welcome, friends to the marvelously wonderful Fantasy Blog Tour! Today we're going to see really terrific authors who know how to bring the fantastic to life!


While you're here, get a good look at these books! You can click the links to take you to the purchase page.


Let's get started!









The Rogue King by Aldrea Alien
[Sci-fi, High/Epic Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Urban Fantasy]


Outside is dangerous.

Such is the warning Koral has heard for twelve years. Born a product of genetic manipulation, he knows little else of the world beyond the steel walls of his home.

When fate gives him the choice between certain death and the unknown, there's no question in what he must choose. But he's about to find out the sands he must brave are full of more than mere monsters.

Providing the desert doesn't kill him first.

This is a world ruled by instinct, where innocence is drowned in blood. Here, men are offered up to the great Serpent God,

Lorric, only to emerge as the most feared killers on the planet: The Rogues.

With the god's sights set on turning Koral into a legend, he must sacrifice himself to survive and be reborn as... The Rogue King.





Along Came a Wolf Book I of the Yellow Hoods by Adam Dreece [Sci-fi, High/Epic Fantasy, YA]



"...intriguing contraptions, appealing characters, snide villains, humor, and an exciting story." Kirkus ReviewsÌý
On a world where rhymes and fairy-tales are real, a secret society's influence is crumbling. The Tub, led for decades by a butcher, a baker, and a candle stick maker, is no longer able to protect its allies like master inventor, Nikolas Klaus.

Rumors of a revolutionary invention has a rival secret society hunting for its plans. When an agent arrives on the doorstep of the long-thought dead Klaus, his granddaughter Tee, and her best friends, Elly and Richy, get caught in the fray. Will Klaus' secrets cost them all dearly?

"Dreece has crafted a tale with elements to delight the child in all of us, and intrigue the most creative adult mind.� J.K. Norry, Author of Fall of the Walker King

"Adventure, hijinks and bravery in the very best traditions of the Famous Five and the books of Roald Dahl.� Dylan Hearn, Author of Second Chance.


Hyperearth by Marco Marek [High Epic Fantasy, YA, Thriller]


In the castle of city of Lubena, Mary and Martina found a portal to another dimension called Hyperearth. This will be the beginning of various adventures of this two teenager girls, fighting the evil Sathon but also make new friendship and curious discovers.







The Crown of Stones Magic Price by C.L. Schneider [High/Epic Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Urban Fantasy]


Ian Troy is one of the Shinree, a fallen people with an inherent addiction to magic. Scorned and reviled for the deadly side of their spells, the Shinree are bred as slaves. Their magic is suppressed by drugs and used only as it serves the purposes of the other races.

Descended from a long line of soldiers, Ian is conscripted into the Rellan army and made to fight in their longstanding conflict against the ruthless Langorian invaders. The downfall of Rella imminent, Ian goes against orders and turns to the Crown of Stones, an ancient Shinree relic of untold power. Ignorant of its true purpose, Ian uses the crown to end the war, and pays a terrible price.

A decade later, still tortured by the aftermath of that day, Ian lives as a bounty hunter in self-imposed exile. Having renounced his magical heritage, he curbs his obsession with a steady stream of wine and regret. He struggles to put it all behind him, until a fateful encounter with a pretty assassin brings Ian’s past crashing into the present. Targeted by a rogue Shinree, and a ruthless old enemy, Ian is forced to use magic again. His deadly addiction is rekindled and his life of isolation is brought to a swift end.

With the land he gave up everything to protect once more in jeopardy, and his people’s future at stake, Ian becomes embroiled in a violent race for control of the Crown of Stones. To save the realms and those he cares for, Ian must embrace the thing he fears most: his own power.

Magic-Price is the first installment in The Crown of Stones trilogy.




Ruined City by A.F. Stewart [Sci-fi, Epic Fantasy]


In the Northern Pass stands the city of Elowen, the glittering guardian between the Empire of Aloquis and the Kingdoms of Immra. It exists proud and prosperous, never dreaming its dark past was coming to call...

On a bright winter’s day a stranger arrives in Elowen, bearing a secret. From this man a dark blight of ruin descends over the great city and henceforth the day becomes known as Winter’s Bane.

The day the world changed for the people of Elowen.

The day their existence turned into a recurring nightmare.Read of the aftermath of revenge through the eyes of a shopkeeper, a child, ghosts, a blacksmith, a guardsman, an innkeeper, and even a King.





Anaerfell by Joshua Robertson & JC Boyd [Dark Fantasy, Epic Fantasy]

Drast, cunning but reckless, is on the hunt for admiration. Tyran, calculating but tactless, is in search of affection. Bound by a friendship thicker than blood, the two brothers have been hardened by their father’s ambitions. Drast and Tyran are forced to set aside their own hopes and dreams during their struggle to fulfill their father’s desire for immortality. The two will face skin-switchers and dragons, ultimately leading to a final clash with Wolos, God of the Dead.





Asena Blessed by Tracy M. Joyce [Fantasy]

At the whims of Gods and Men�

Isaura has emerged from the spirit realm forever altered. No longer a pariah, she embraces the future offered in Altaica, but learns that her survival has come at a price. Her transformation is the perfect weapon for Elena to use against her.

The mysterious Asena and The Lady vie for Isaura. Caught between two ancient powers, Isaura must try to make her own path.

Master spy Vikram launches a counterinsurgency against Ratilal and Faros, weaving innocents into the plot to bring him down. Ratilal prepares to wage war against Karan and Baldev. Desperately, he seeks clandestine means to wreak revenge on them in the very heart of their territory, with devastating results.

With enemies nearing, Isaura must learn to master her powers. Aid arrives from the most unlikely source—one who knows no rules and respects no one.

Having run from one war she will not run from another�

The battle is joined.

~Coming Soon



The Amber Isle Book of Never #1 by Ashley Capes [Sci-fi, Fantasy]
Roguish Never is on a quest to lift a curse on his blood and to learn his true name; but upon joining a group of treasure-hunters he soon finds himself unearthing world-altering secrets that have long lain dormant within the mysterious Amber Isle.


First in a series of epic fantasy novellas to be released in March 2016.






Smoke and Rain Reforged #1 by V.S. Holmes [Sci-fi, Epic Fantasy]
I expected a hero to save us all. Turns out, I was thinking of the wrong part of the story. In the beginning, we aren't saved. The world is broken. There are only pieces and grief. Depending on the story, the fruit of grief is vengeance or justice or hardened resolve.
The pieces must be gathered and flames kindled before I'm reforged. I don't know what shape I will take. Those pieces might become a hero...or a monster.
A mad king’s genocide destroyed Alea's home and left her sanity in tatters. The struggle between the gods and their creators fills the world with war. Caught in the crossfire of a conflict she knows little about, Alea only wants a quiet life. Trouble is, the darkness roiling in her mind may be the one thing that could end the bloodshed.
A storm brews within her, and not even the gods will be safe when it breaks upon the world.



Blood Moon Rising by Riley Amos Westbrook et. al. [Horror, Sci-fi, Fantasy]
What horror awaits when the Blood Moon Rises? What monsters lurk in the dark? A collection of twelve horror, sci-fi and fantasy tales from the authors taking part in Blood Moon Rising 2.
By S.K. Gregory (Editor), Michael Noe (Author), Riley Amos Westbrook, (Author) M.L. Sparrow (Author), Sharon Higa, (Author) Kat Gracey (Author), David Wind (Author), Ash Hartwell, (Author) Michelle Garza, (Author) Melissa Larson, (Author) Toneye Eyenot (Author), C.L. Hernandez, (Author) Donald Armfield (Author)


The Last Ranger of Sarn Chronicles of the Huntress: Book One by Ed Ireland [Fantasy, Epic Fantasy]
Locked within the fabled Castian city of Tiran sits the Vault of Sarnallus and the Gems of Creation. Powerful orbs that can bring life or total annihilation. The King of Castia has trusted his military under the command of General Salaris Woodward to stop the advance of the undead army that comes for the treasure.At the front of this unimaginable horror is The Black Prince, Romero Harram. After killing his father the Prince turns his eyes to the rest of his lands, Bardynn. General Merrin Jaslin, now considered a rebel leads the remaining loyal Knights of the Crescent Moon to the Pass of Sarn.
While he sits south of the pass, General Woodward sits north. With her is the Castian Militia led by Vespias Firstlight. She has been called the Hali'Khal by the Junin people...the daughter of the land who will save their people by her noble deeds. As she does this she will also save her own people from genocide.
But the prophecy calls for a terrible price to be paid before she can fulfill it. She must lose her heart. All that she was, all she is and all she can ever be must be lost.
Is the price too high? Can she overcome the heartache to bring hope to the Castian people? In this tale of power and passions, love, lust and survival can Vespias pay the toll to save her world? Ride into battle along with her and see...


Dolor and Shadow Tales of the Drui by Angela B. Chrysler [Epic Fantasy, Sci-fi Fantasy]
As the elven city burns, Princess Kallan is taken to Alfheim while a great power begins to awaken within her. Desperate to keep the child hidden, her abilities are suppressed and her memory erased. But the gods have powers as well, and it is only a matter of time before they find the child again.

When Kallan, the elven witch, Queen of Lorlenalin, fails to save her dying father, she inherits her father's war and vows revenge on the one man she believes is responsible: Rune, King of Gunir. But nothing is as it seems, and the gods are relentless.

A twist of fate puts Kallan into the protection of the man she has sworn to kill, and Rune into possession of power he does not understand. From Alfheim, to Jotunheim, and then lost in the world of Men, these two must form an alliance to make their way home, and try to solve the lies of the past and of the Shadow that hunts them all.







Of course, I can't post a blog about books without mentioning my own!Please visit my website to find out about !








Wow! These are some of the most fantastic stories I've ever heard! I hope you found some you like, love, can't get enough of!
Remember to check out all the places to party here at the convention!














Remember to answer the polls!


Ready to move on? Head over to !

Hello, everybody! Welcome to the YA Scavenger Hunt Spring 2016!

I amÌý Deidre Mapstone , your hostess on this leg of the hunt, representingÌý

I love to bake, sew and write when I have the time! Old fashioned loves for a new age society!
Sigrun is my first novel, and I hope you enjoy it as well as all of the others here on TEAM SILVER!
I invite you to check out the & any time over on Twitter or Facebook for some more amazing authors and books! Welcome to my blog, and enjoy the hunt, scavengers!


This biannual event was created by authorÌýÌýas a way to give readers a chance to gain access to exclusive bonus material from their favorite authors, and a chance to win some amazing prizes! You not only get access to exclusive content from each author, but you also receive a clue to continue the hunt! Add up all the cluesÌýand you can be entered to winÌýTEAM SILVER's fabulous prize:Ìýa signed copy of each book on the team!

Don't delay! This hunt, and all the authors' bonus material will only be available for 72 hours!ÌýNow, let's get to the rules so you can get on with the hunting!
How to Scavenger Hunt
Directions: Below you'll notice that I've listed my favorite number. Collect the favorite numbers of all the authors onÌýTEAM SILVER, and then add them up (don't worry about your math skills, you can use a calculator).
Entry Form: Once you've added up all the numbers, be sure to fill out the formÌý! You must have the correct final number to qualify.
Rules: Open internationally. Anyone under the age of 18 should have a parent or guardian's permission to enter. To be eligible for the grand prize, you must submit the completed entry form by April 3rd, noon Pacific Time. Entries sent without the correct number or without contact information will not be considered.
If you have any problems or questions, go to theÌý. There are 8 contests running in total! You can go enter all of them at the Scavenger Hunt page for a chance to win a whole other set of signed books!

With all of the technical jargon out of the way, let's meet one ofÌýTEAM SILVER's authors!
I am pleased to presentÌýMichael Alan Peck!

Winner of the 2015 state libraries' Soon to be Famous Illinois Author Project.

I tell tales big and small. Life's magical, but it isn't always enough for a good story. So I make up the rest.
Ooh, I can't wait to find out more about the Illinois Author Project!


Michael is sharingÌýTHE COMMONS, BOOK 1: THE JOURNEYMAN with us.
Let's take a look!

“Paul Reid died in the snow at seventeen. The day of his death, he told a lie—and for the rest of his life, he wondered if that was what killed him.�

And so begins the battle for the afterlife, known as The Commons. It’s been taken over by a corporate raider who uses the energy of its souls to maintain his brutal control. The result is an imaginary landscape of a broken America—stuck in time and overrun by the heroes, monsters, dreams, and nightmares of the imprisoned dead.

Three people board a bus to nowhere: a New York street kid, an Iraq War veteran, and her five-year-old special-needs son. After a horrific accident, they are the last, best hope for The Commons to free itself. Along for the ride are a shotgun-toting goth girl, a six-foot-six mummy, a mute Shaolin monk with anger-management issues, and the only guide left to lead them.

Three Journeys: separate but joined. One mission: to save forever.

But first they have to save themselves.
Oh my! It's like every one of my favorite genres rolled into one! I don't know about you, but I've already got this on my TBR!
You can find out more about the Commons over at !
!*!*!BONUS CONTENT ALERT!*!*!
Concept sketch of Mr. Brill byÌýartist Michael Visnov!

Yikes! Gives me the chills like a 10 degree day!
Anyone else feel like stalking? Feel free to join me!
Follow Michael Alan Peck
Michael's Å·±¦ÓéÀÖBuy the book !

Well peeps, thank you so much for joining me in this year's YA Scavenger hunt! It has been a pleasure doing it once again, and I hope you are having a blast!Onward!Next stop, !

We're celebrating the release of Time for the Lost and the box set of the YA time travel series, , with a blog tour and a ! Join the party for bookish games and giveaways. Keep reading for an except from the latest book in the series, Time for the Lost.
Read Calla and Valcas' full story in this collection of the first three books in The Call to Search Everywhen! More than 600 pages of YA time travel adventure inside the following full-length novels:
ÌýIn , Calla Winston falls into a world of worlds after meeting Valcas, a time traveler who traverses time and space with a pair of altered sunglasses. He offers his further protection in exchange for a promise. After learning that his search for her was no mere coincidence, she tracks down the inventor of the Travel Glasses in hopes of discovering more about Valcas' past and motivations. With Valcas hot on her trail, Calla hopes to find what she's looking for before he catches up.
ÌýIn , Calla faces charges against her for changing the past. Despite the risk of becoming lost, she accepts a dangerous travel mission that may help her find her father. She teams up with a group of talented travelers and discovers that she has a special travel talent of her own. But will that be enough to protect her and her teammates before they complete their mission?
completes the story line of the first three books in the series. The travel team reunites for a mission they never saw coming: a journey to a world caught between life and death, and hidden within the deepest recesses of time. Ivory rediscovers a friend and Ray learns the meaning behind his tattoo. But the connections they make between travelers and the lost may twist the core of the Time and Space Travel Agency inside out.

Excerpt from Time for the Lost

Carefully, I climbed the clock, placing my feet on the times of other worlds, in order to see more along the top. Fragile materials supported my weight as if I weighed nothing—were nothing—but a breath of air in time and space. I climbed on, grabbing timepieces with my hands and pulling myself upward along the tower. The skin on the back of my neck prickled when I reached the topmost third of the tower. An hourglass sat perched on the tower’s tapered tip, like a golden star crowning one of Earth’s Christmas trees. The top half of the glass was mostly full. Both halves rested on a crescent moon-shaped base. The hourglass hung balanced, lightly swinging back and forth, ready to flip over when empty. I made my way back down the tower, wondering whether time ever ends, whether it could be eternal—how a system of worlds with World Builders could possibly have an end. My brain ached as I tried to make sense of it all, wondering where to begin searching for Calla. My attention turned to something bright and painful: a miniature White Tower, representing the world my parents created, the timeline of which reset when I was born. The White Tower replica had no clock hands. There were no digital measures of time, no sand trickling from the top of a glass. But I knew how the time was recorded and what time it was at the tower, based on the brightness of its glow. Like the sky which backlit the clock tower, the White Tower was a dazzling white. From what I’d learned as a child, the more brightly it glowed, the later its time and the closer to its end. I tightened my grip and groaned. “Why does every search lead back to the White Tower? Have I traveled here to the Clock Tower only to be faced with it again?� I descended a few more steps toward the base of the tower. “Is there no way to escape the past—to leave it behind me?� “You don’t appear to be biding time, friend.� I nearly fell from the tower. I glanced beneath me to see who’d spoken. The man who looked up at me was thin, with a nose as straight and long as his gangly limbs. He regarded me with eyes of purple ice. His hair, white like snow, was bound in a loose tail. Friend indeed. I exhaled, relieved. Everything about him radiated Aborealiandescent. I jumped the last few feet from the Clock Tower and signaled to him, the way I would have greeted anyone in my mother’s home country, Aboreal. His amethyst eyes met mine as he drew his lip into a thin line. He signaled back, and then frowned. “I disclaimed Aboreal long ago, but I respect the gesture.� “You’re from my mother’s homeland,� I said. “I just wanted to be sure.� The former Aborealian nodded and held out his hand. “Valcas Hall,� I said, clasping it. He grinned. “You can call me Nick.� I squinted. Aborealians had no last names, so I hadn’t expected one. Aborealian citizens were simply individuals of Aboreal. But the man’s first name didn’t fit the metric. Nick didn’t have the same significance to it as Ivory and Sable, shades of white and black. He should have had a name that reflected his wintry hair. Nick meant nothing in Aborealian. I opened my mouth to say something. “I’ve renamed,� he said. “When I denounced Aboreal, I changed my first name and adopted a surname of sorts.� “Which is?� “Time,� he said. “I’m now Nick, no longer of Aboreal, but of Time.� Nick of Time. Was this guy serious? If he noticed my cringe at the horrible pun, he didn’t show it. “What brings you to this part of the worlds, friend?� “A search.� I looked around, disturbed. “How did you get here?� “I’m the keeper of the Clock Tower. Welcome to my home.�
***
Get the series for , , and .

Chess Desalls is the author of the YA time travel series, The Call to Search Everywhen. She's a longtime reader of fantasy and sci-fi novels, particularly classics and young adult fiction. Her nonfiction writing has led to academic and industry publications. She’s also a contributing editor for her local writing club’s monthly newsletter. The California Writers Club, South Bay branch, has awarded two of Chess� stories first place for best short fiction. When she's not reading or writing, she enjoys traveling and trying to stay in tune on her flute.
Connect with her on: Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ