tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30963601740429939022024-02-07T10:44:36.321-06:00Romance Authors of the HeartlandCheryl St.Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00947267011326863581noreply@blogger.comBlogger260125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-32230582731741448292013-08-05T10:37:00.000-05:002013-08-05T10:37:14.691-05:00It's page posting time!<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/FQEqLUtp9Bg" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
Heartlandians, you know the drill. Please leave a comment with your total new page count. Also leave your total heavily edited page count.<br />
<br />
bonus for the month--what part did William Shatner play on Howdy Doody?<br />
<br />lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-88001137963612004642013-07-09T10:14:00.000-05:002013-07-09T10:14:24.246-05:00July Heat and Page Counts Meet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhySEZi7mUNR9dBpcyksUosEEJbujP5mAEPedPgFmxMjydGp45L1mF4kDUTfXoCypNmCwAnr3uAojO1XJvLr_KzWJfo_wrUPMImKY6auTopS-bTCEArXtlCaOAF1QXQCnop10iat23_evjz/s1600/sun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhySEZi7mUNR9dBpcyksUosEEJbujP5mAEPedPgFmxMjydGp45L1mF4kDUTfXoCypNmCwAnr3uAojO1XJvLr_KzWJfo_wrUPMImKY6auTopS-bTCEArXtlCaOAF1QXQCnop10iat23_evjz/s1600/sun.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">The heat of summer. What a perfect time to stay inside and write. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And this week is the time to report all those newly written pages...whether heat inspired or not.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">In the comments, leave your total number of newly written pages, your total of heavily edited pages, and your name if you post anonymously. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">If you have an unreported, charm worthy event, comment with that as well!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">your guru thanks you! </span>lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-66490882604406117382013-06-30T12:06:00.000-05:002013-06-30T12:06:18.967-05:00Huckleberry Summer by Avery Cove<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsR0mSEp11BasVtlZBdLXTcnFyekVB-sPjdSCzeY-UuOYHlSzSryRl2eRA6J9SOVoyfA4TDcRVgNdKaeGWXFYSSYV9RTYtdtPdexFz5ehX2cu_MQ997Og2gDJui9ysTvn02qtz2MnL7z5I/s400/huck5+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsR0mSEp11BasVtlZBdLXTcnFyekVB-sPjdSCzeY-UuOYHlSzSryRl2eRA6J9SOVoyfA4TDcRVgNdKaeGWXFYSSYV9RTYtdtPdexFz5ehX2cu_MQ997Og2gDJui9ysTvn02qtz2MnL7z5I/s320/huck5+(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>Huckleberry Summer by Avery Cove<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hot sun rays scorched every item of clothing Sam wore and
the heat burned where it touched his skin. He swiped again at the sweat that
rolled down his face as some trickled into his eyes. He blinked and squeezed
his eyelids hoping to lessen the sting. He couldn’t take much more of this
heat. He looked down the fence row where more bobbed wire needed tightening.
Rip, his dog, sniffed the ground and chased the brown grasshoppers popping up
from the grass not far from him. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Two steps down the fence row, he reached out and grabbed the
wire gaging how much slack he needed to take up. A shrill scream echoed across
the hills and valley. Sam jerked back his hand, his glove still hung on the
barb. He bit back a cuss word and shook his hand. Blood ran across his fingers.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another scream—fear jolted him from his pain. “Rip—load up!”
After the second try at the ignition switch, the truck fired and Sam forced it
into reverse. It bumped and rocked traveling as fast as it would go through the
field. Rip barked as the truck climbed the hill. The screams sounded like they
came from the back side of the old Duncan place. Charging over the last bump,
he topped the hill and slid the truck to a standstill next to the fence.
Standing in the middle of the saddest excuse for a garden stood a woman
wielding a hoe. A blond ponytail bounced with every move.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sam pushed open the door and jumped, Rip behind him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hey!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She stood frozen to one spot. He grabbed the top of the
fence and jump over it as Rip crawled underneath, ready for the chase. He
bounded for the lady. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hey—lady!” Sam hollered, again. “You hurt—snake bit?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She glanced up as the mutt loped through the grass heading
her way. Winded Sam reached the edge of the garden. Facing him stood that
woman—the one stranded on the side of the road—all culture and no country. Sam
sucked in a hot breath. His new neighbor. Scrutinizing the terror in her eyes,
he watched as she shuddered and scanned the ground and plants near her feet. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now she glared at him. Ponytail no longer bobbed, but the
most exquisite green eyes he could not have dreamed up flashed sheer annoyance.
“What?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sam hesitated. “I said—are you hurt?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She scowled recognizing the truck. “No. Do I look hurt?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Wasn’t that you who let out those bloodcurdling screams?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She pulled in a deep breath, her shapely bosom evident in
her pink cotton sundress. “I saw a snake!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She had the grace to stare back toward the ground as her
face reddened. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“God save me from silly females!” Sam yanked the remaining
glove off his good hand and looked down at the blood spreading across his
fingers on his other one. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the arm of his
t-shirt. “Woman—if you are afraid of everything that crawls in these hills,
you’d better pack up and head back to whatever city you came from!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Smarting from his accusations, she twisted her head back in
his direction. “How dare you!” You drive across My property and shout at me for
no reason. I did not ask or need to be rescued! What time-warp century did you
come from?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Abashed, he frowned. His dog was now at her feet, wagging
his tail and looking up at her adoringly. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Point taken.” His sweat and blood stung his hand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Come on Rip.” Slinging the dripping blood from his injured
fingers, Sam turned and marched back to his vehicle with Rip at his heels. Sam
tipped his head at the woman, offered up his juvenile behavior by stomping on
the gas pedal. He spun his truck around, almost grazing her fence, then bounced
across the ruts as he tore down the hill.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oooh!” She kicked a dirt clod with the toe of her sandal.
The hard soil did not budge. A cry of pain escaped her lips. She threw down the
hoe, grabbed her throbbing big toe, lost her balance, and then fell squarely on
her butt. “Ouch!” A small vapor of dust completed her humiliation. Why couldn’t
I have a kindly old man for a neighbor—not a blue-eyed jackass!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-9744971971529015472013-06-21T10:59:00.000-05:002013-06-21T11:00:24.286-05:00Gaming Challenge--Dead Man's Law by Mariah Ambersan<div class="moz-text-html" lang="x-western">
<div dir="ltr">
<div class="gmail_default" style="font-family: 'comic sans ms', sans-serif;">
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: large;">From <b>Dead Man's Law</b>, a wip by Mariah Ambersan</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: small; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTv4ltKxVn03gCZDPIo9l8MS8COnQsTPC8aHFlS8aG6gHOfI9x5xDxWTOW31qiEqhT-q0xmf2sGGEDvuoU5k2eXwJgL2WdpbkRD1HFL81RanqoEomt3zKTpN2nhIdRboaZmcluTH9pU5ND/s1600/blue+light.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTv4ltKxVn03gCZDPIo9l8MS8COnQsTPC8aHFlS8aG6gHOfI9x5xDxWTOW31qiEqhT-q0xmf2sGGEDvuoU5k2eXwJgL2WdpbkRD1HFL81RanqoEomt3zKTpN2nhIdRboaZmcluTH9pU5ND/s400/blue+light.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span> “My son?” Erebos’s smug words slid out of the dark and over
Sam, mocking him. That oily voice plucked at Sam’s senses like a maestro
playing a poisoned harp. The sound alone taunted everything inside him to fury
until every sensation sang in hate. “Such a magnificent son, so full of great
and terrible promise.” The voice cooed from behind his ear, cooling the nape of
his neck. A claw ran across the breadth of his shoulders. Sam felt like a stud
at auction. Any second people would start shouting out prices. That infuriated
him, more so than the fact he’d been chained to the foot <i>her</i> statue, like some misbehaved dog waiting for its mistress to
come home. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Sam snapped
his elbow back at the voice, praying to connect. He wanted nothing more in that
moment than to feel bone breaking under his blow. Instead the chain rattled
merrily stopping him. “Of course you’re mine. Everything you are in this existence
is because of me.” The voice drifted around him. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%;">
Oh yeah, and didn't he know it, and never in a thousand
years would Sam ever forgive him. Erebos was the one who killed Haven and Seth.
The one behind all of this, the one responsible for the hell Sam was in. It
made his blood seethe.</div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Sam turned towards the voice and hissed venomously.
“I’ll rip everything you have built down. Every heartbeat and every breath I
have in me will be just to destroy you.” The silence filled with righteous intent. Sam wouldn't
simply kill him he would obliterate everything about all of them. No more innocent
people would die. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
The dark
quieted until all Sam could hear was his own harsh breathing. The vampire had
gone still. Like a shark in a night time ocean Sam had no idea where the killer
in the dark would strike next, and it could be from literally anywhere.</div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Do you
mean the heart that beats, pulsing from my blood and the newborn breath that
you gasped when you woke in the dark four days ago? The ones that dwell there still, full from the
night air and my power? Is that the beat and breath you’re talking about? The
ones I gave you?” </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Invisible
fingers caught his chin and held Sam’s face in a vise. Sam held his ground,
refusing to be cowed or back down. Although he couldn't see him in the dark he
knew Erebos stood right in front of him and Sam wanted him to see all the hate
he felt. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
The touch
turned gentle. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Sam
blinked. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Cold
fingers cupped his cheek. Sam fought not to jerk his head away from the disconcerting
touch. The sudden switch unsettled him but he wasn't about to give the vampire the
satisfaction of seeing him flinch. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“<i>My</i> blood and <i>my</i> breath gave you life, <i>my</i>
words gave you a name. You are more mine than any mortal man who you knew
before.” </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Blue
bloomed in the darkness before his eyes as the vampire let himself be seen.
Darkness parted in swirls giving way to the diaphanous light all vampires had.
Erebos stood nose to nose with Sam, his dark eyes were so stark against the glow
they looked like bullet holes in an electric ghost. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Sam couldn't
look away if he’d tried. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“I am your
father.” </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Erebos slid
his hand to the back of Sam’s neck and leaned down until their foreheads
touched.</div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Thanatos
you are my son. Don’t you remember me?”</div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
The words
wormed their way into his soul and twisted to take root.</div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i>My Son.</i></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i> I am your father.</i></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i> Remember me.</i></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%;">
Something blurred in Sam’s mind. Another dark eyed man
with a bright smile faded at the edges of his conscience. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%;">
Who was that? He seemed important somehow. The energy
surging though him faltered and Sam’s body sagged, dizziness sent the world
spinning on a cockeyed axis. The blue god in front of him held him tenderly
while Sam reeled. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i>Father? Did dad
always glow?</i></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i> </i>Sam stared into
the dark eyes fighting to place what was wrong. <i>Yeah he did, but it’s wrong somehow.</i> His gaze dropped to the Blue
God’s chest. <i>The glow was always there
and it was a different color. </i></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i> </i>A niggle of memory
shimmered like a fish in dark water. A glimpse of brilliant gold on black. <i>That’s right it’s gold not blue.</i> The memory
solidified into a shield glowing in the setting sun. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%;">
A badge?</div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%;">
His dad’s badge on his uniform!</div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%;">
The ghostly man of
his memory erupted into full glorious color. His father stood leaning against the
Challenger. He’d come home from work and he’d turned to smile at Sam just as
the sun set. The light had caught his shield and his dad’s badge looked like his
heart was on fire against the black police uniform. It was Sam’s best memory of
him. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%;">
Sam’s stare locked onto the one across from him. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Indescribable
anger arced through Sam’s mind swallowing what remained of his rationality
whole.</div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i> He’s
trying to hypnotize me into forgetting my father.</i></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Rage unlike
anything he’d ever known exploded through him. It pounded his heart and sent
all the muscles in his body surging. Snarling, Sam lunged at Erebos. The sharp
rasping ring of metal scraping against the marble behind him barely registered
in his heated brain.</div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“You’re not
my father you sick prick!” Sam reached
the end of his chain, the sudden loss of slack jerked his attack short. The heavy iron cut into his wrists, and still
he fought forward. He knew he couldn't break the iron holding him there, but
that didn't stop him from trying. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
The blue
winked out and the void rushed in all around him again. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
In the dark
behind him the smug voice chuckled. “Such a pity we were so close to bonding
too. I’d rather you came to me Thanatos, but I understand. Just like I
understand change can be difficult and parents have to be firm with wayward
children.” The chain on his left wrist
dipped slightly. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to do things the hard way then.” It was all the warning he got. The chain shot
backwards through the rings in the statues base.</div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Sam’s arm
nearly popped from their socket from the force and he flew across the room like
a kite in a tornado. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Sam cracked
his head against the marble and crashed his teeth together. Blood gushed in his
mouth bittersweetly. <i>Must have bit my
tongue. Owww.</i> He ran his tongue across his teeth, a flap caught and tugged
painfully. <i>Yep nashed it good</i>. Although
it did kind of feel nice. A traitorous moan rumbled past his clenched teeth. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Sam’s eyes
shot open. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
No! His
heart screamed at his fading mind.</div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
What he
needed to bring him back to himself wasn't there. The hurt that should have
shocked him slipped away, edging into ecstasy instead. His ethereal thoughts
circled the horrible truth in vanishing motes that became harder and harder to
focus on through the giddiness swirling around his head. The sun had set and Nyx’s hold over him had
returned. He was out of time. There was no way he could fight Erebos and Nyx at
the same time. She’d be here any minute.</div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
The pain
swam in euphoric waves that rolled his eyes up into his skull. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i>She’s getting closer.</i></div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Sam screwed
his eyes shut, vainly trying to block out the feeling. His last threads of sanity thrashed for
anything to save itself from the sinking darkness. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Tell you
what. Let’s wager for it, <i>Dad</i>. Let’s
play a game, if I win you unchain me and I go free for the night. If you win.”
Sam spat blood on the floor and took a deep breath. “Well then you win. I’ll
come willingly.” Nausea twisted Sam’s
gut to say those words. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Suddenly
the vampire was there again, his evil firefly light filling the space before
the statue in sickening shades of blue. The smirk on his face unmistakable. He
had the vampires undivided attention. </div>
<div class="" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“What kind
of wager?”</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-8747476406529706452013-06-10T14:21:00.001-05:002013-06-10T14:22:43.648-05:00Gaming Challenge--Daughter of the Dragon by Connie Crow<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Daughter of the Dragon</b></span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
by Connie Crow<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7ppfP4ABO8S15lUjxCg3325uJvONGu7ELMu5Fh1LY73sLqgTT_rhFAH0c7_SlrZWKVmMnOTUP9hhvGNs0qnjFtsMOoqbM5mgJ7_OrF6xVhmWNc5YiqwUorLc8iQjth41j5d79G2emnKd/s1600/connie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7ppfP4ABO8S15lUjxCg3325uJvONGu7ELMu5Fh1LY73sLqgTT_rhFAH0c7_SlrZWKVmMnOTUP9hhvGNs0qnjFtsMOoqbM5mgJ7_OrF6xVhmWNc5YiqwUorLc8iQjth41j5d79G2emnKd/s200/connie.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> Leonid Chaikov rubbed a clammy hand
across his mouth and tugged on his great, grey beard. His cards wouldn't
change, no matter how long he stared. He crushed them together and glanced
around the tiny mountain shack. The bare studs of the interior offered no
encouragement. The raw planks and barren cabin looked as bleak as his poker
hand. He thumbed them open. No luck. Still the same stinkin' cards <i>"Two pair. Two lousy pair."</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> "Come on, Chaikov. I ain't got
all day. You gonna see my hand or not?" The voice from across the table
grated in his ears. Turning to face the voice, he stared into merciless, beady
eyes, glinting across the table. How had he ever allowed himself to get into a
card game with Hargrave and Armitage? Sun Lee would have his hide if he lost
their mine to the card shark and his 'go-fer'. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> "Shut up, Hargrave. It's my
mine I'm putting on the table."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> The hint of a smile snaked across
Hargrave's angular face. He leaned back, tipping his chair onto its back legs.
"That it is, Chaikov, that it is. You take all the time you want, 'cause
when we get done, it's all gonna be mine."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> Hargrave's face set into its
ever-present sneer. He jerked upright. The chair hit the floor with a
resounding thud. Chaikov jumped at the sound, then settled into his own rickety
seat. An unintelligible grunt escaped his lips. The cards, made thick by too
many sweaty fingers from too many poker games, refused to budge. He held them
toward the flickering lamplight and shook his head. No matter what he did, all
he could see was two pair, with a Jack kicker. A shudder shook the big man's
frame-- a shudder out of place on this stifling August night. Oh well, he couldn't
cover his marker in the pot now. It was all or nothing at this point.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> He smoothed the precious paper lying
on the table. Picking up the pencil stub beside him, he scrawled his name on
the front, endorsing the deed. Caressing it gently between his fingers, he
finally stretched out his hand and deposited the document atop the pile of
coins in the table's center. He brushed the other documents lying by the
coins. " I'll call. I'm putting the
deed to the mine down. And I'll see your hand."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> Chaikov glared across the table,
keeping his hand firmly on the two papers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> Hargrave's smile widened. "I'll
be glad to show it to you. Read 'em and weep, Chaikov."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Hargrave
stood up, spreading his cards on the worn tabletop. "Three pretty Queens
lined up beside a pair of Jacks. A full house, Chaikov."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> He leaned forward, pressing his
palms of the table. Eye-to-eye, his hissed, "Show me better, if you got
it."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> Chaikov's shoulders sagged. He
pulled his hand back and turned his cards face up. "You got me beat. My
two pair won't take that." His heart sank. He'd lost it--lost the Golden
Dragon Mine. Sun Lee would never forgive him--and she was such a good daughter.
Since her mother's death, she'd loaded dirt and worked with him like a trouper.
What could he say to her? He buried his face in his hands. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> A strangled sound, coming from the
third player in this unholy card game caught his attention. He glanced at
Armitage, who'd been in the game at the beginning. Seeing Armitage's face, he
looked back at the cards. "What's wrong with you, Rat Face? You look like
you just seen a ghost?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> "Oh, nothing, nothing at
all!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> Hargrave threw Armitage a withering
glance. "Nothing's wrong, Chaikov. You just lost a mine, that's all. I'll
be takin' my winnings." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> Chaikov's huge arm stopped
Hargrave's sweep of the table "Just a minute." His hand shot out,
scooping up Armitage's cards. "I want to see these." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> Hargrave tried in vain to stop him.
"You can't do that."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> Chaikov held the third hand in his
huge fist and shook it slowly in Hargrave's face. "I just did." He
spread the cards on the table between the other two hands. A pair of jacks
peaked out of Armitage's hand. An icy chill settled over the three men. Chaikov
stood, towering over the others. He glared at the winner. "It's your deck,
Hargrave. Since when does a poker deck have five Jacks?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> "Ah, I. . ." Hargrave
searched for words, his eye murderous thunderclouds, threatening to drown
Armitage for his mistake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> "Never mind." Chaikov
reached for the pieces of paper. "I'll be takin' the deeds." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> Hargrave swung toward him
"No!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> Chaikov's hand dropped to his gun.
"Yes, I will." He was too
slow. As his hand touched holster leather, he felt a searing pain in his chest,
and instant before he heard the crack of a derringer. It was the last sound he
ever heard. He clutched at his chest, trying to stop the pain exploding inside,
trying to cover the hole exposing his lung. He couldn't breathe. Darkness
eroded his vision, leaving him only a glimpse of the deeds on the table. With a
dying gasp, he lunged toward the shadow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-52561041118376731452013-06-04T09:33:00.000-05:002013-06-04T09:33:00.795-05:00Gaming--Time to report in<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpj_7OAZDTK81-O7LxuL-I8KFpG_frQu1-ePIJknZbEHLcKTQCSNFUqhypPnX0X9XjMKqb9jOPHCufCUdfNCNMad9kww2QypgMjo4gpo5-M5KFw8JrAzNIwqoF2bXF8jXp2jbMqaCKz0bw/s1600/vio.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpj_7OAZDTK81-O7LxuL-I8KFpG_frQu1-ePIJknZbEHLcKTQCSNFUqhypPnX0X9XjMKqb9jOPHCufCUdfNCNMad9kww2QypgMjo4gpo5-M5KFw8JrAzNIwqoF2bXF8jXp2jbMqaCKz0bw/s320/vio.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">just one of the possibilities for our new logo!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It's time again, my dearest ones,<br />
to post pages wrote since last we met.<br />
New work in progress counts I need,<br />
as well, edits of words already set.<br />
<br />
So leave a comment down below<br />
whether pages one, or an octet,<br />
report those written words right now<br />
and to your team be an asset!<br />
<br />
The guru waits, hands clasped tight,<br />
ignoring now the game croquette.<br />
To add the numbers once again,<br />
she does not want to act the soubrette*<br />
<br />
Do comment now,<br />
lest you forget,<br />
for well you know<br />
if not--a threat.<br />
<br />
Play it loud upon the musette,<br />
write it in the local gazette<br />
no wait, only here, you bet<br />
will page counts I accept.<br />
After all--'tis kismet.<br />
<br />
~ * ~<br />
<br />
Got that? Comment below with your newly written page count and/or your heavily edited page counts. If you post anonymously, please leave your name in the post. I'm not a mind reader, you know. :)<br />
<br />
*do you know what this word means--without looking it up? Let me know in the comments.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-41435666728097360532013-05-29T01:00:00.000-05:002013-05-29T01:00:02.932-05:00Gaming Challenge--Winter of Dreams by Cheryl St. John<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg69_C1_yowQTJdGAixXFAEzvHYeZGVIsyv6wCiOAwwvmkf-DHNcFim1YmndOKTGgwUYkLgyLvrSwu-XfwZIVKdIT4RtpSG_Ms0aVAk3vbBvzAT2McARykDb7jbeVV2JaLijVcxeTkVQ8Ex/s1600/colorado+courtship.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg69_C1_yowQTJdGAixXFAEzvHYeZGVIsyv6wCiOAwwvmkf-DHNcFim1YmndOKTGgwUYkLgyLvrSwu-XfwZIVKdIT4RtpSG_Ms0aVAk3vbBvzAT2McARykDb7jbeVV2JaLijVcxeTkVQ8Ex/s200/colorado+courtship.jpg" width="127" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: none; text-indent: .5in;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Dark Courier"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Winter of Dreams novella in Colorado Courtship by Cheryl St. John </span><br />
</span></div>
</div>
<br />
<br />
Tessa joined them, carrying a tray loaded with a teapot and three cups. “Time for refreshment, don’t you agree?”<br />
<div>
<br />
She set the tray on a nearby table and served them. </div>
<div>
<br />
Ben Charles watched Violet’s demeanor change, and recognized she was uncomfortable with the role reversal. “We don’t want to push ourselves on you, Violet,” he said in a gentle tone.</div>
<div>
<br />
Her dark gaze moved to his, and he read her uncertainty.</div>
<div>
<br />
“Perhaps if you think of Sunday as a family day, and remember we want you as part of our family, you’ll be more comfortable.”</div>
<div>
<br />
A flicker of pain crossed her features, but she quickly hid it. “I’ll try.”</div>
<div>
<br />
The afternoon sun streaming through the front windows enhanced the color of her eyes, which always appeared so dark. In this light they were a rich deep mahogany, flecked with gold and green. The last thing he wanted to do was crowd her and scare her off. Apparently she had no one else, and everyone needed a family. His might be small, but he and Tessa had a lot to offer.</div>
<div>
<br />
“We have a new player to draw into our games?” his sister said as she settled beside Violet. The last word had ended on a higher note, indicating her question.</div>
<div>
<br />
“I was hoping to make a good impression this first weekend,” he replied with good humor. “Not send her packing.”</div>
<div>
<br />
“What games are you referring to?” Violet asked.</div>
<div>
<br />
Tessa got up and took one of the game boards from the wall.</div>
<div>
<br />
“I thought those were colorful lithographs,” Violet said with surprise.</div>
<div>
<br />
“They’re game boards,” Tessa replied. “This one is my favorite.</div>
<div>
<br />
The game she referred to was Round the World with Nellie Bly. Tessa had loved to play this one since she was a child. “She’s read Nellie Bly’s book a dozen times,” Ben Charles told Violet.</div>
<div>
<br />
“Have you read it?” Tessa asked, her expression animated.</div>
<div>
<br />
“Indeed I have,” Violet answered. “I was twelve when she made headlines. My father and I followed her column in the New York World from the moment she left Jersey City, through the Mediterranean, across the Suez Canal and the Indian Ocean, to Japan, all the way until she arrived in New York City. It was the most exciting adventure a girl could imagine.”</div>
<div>
<br />
The pleasure on Tessa’s face was worth a hundred Sunday afternoons of playing her game. “I was too young then to remember,” she said. “But I read the newspaper accounts in the archives at the library.” <br />
Their conversation convinced Ben Charles once and for all that God had answered his prayers and sent Violet. Emotion spread throughout his chest, like a comforting emollient for a previously aching heart. Thank You, Lord. Your mercies are indeed new every morning.</div>
<div>
<br />
“How do you play?” Violet asked.</div>
<div>
<br />
From a cabinet, Tessa gathered the spinner and worn wooden tokens and explained the simple forward and backward movement in the spiral of spaces. “This isn’t Ben Charles’s favorite game, but he indulges me.”</div>
<div>
<br />
Violet met his eyes, her appreciation and compassion obvious. She gave him a tentative smile that changed the warmth in his chest to something else. Something hotter and more surprising.<br />
Something that didn’t resemble appreciation in the least.</div>
<div>
<br />
“What is your favorite game?” she asked.</div>
<div>
<br />
“I don’t mind a competitive game of croquet,” he replied. “Weather permitting.”</div>
<div>
<br />
“I keep telling him there is a parlor croquet set in Mr. Levine’s shop.”</div>
<div>
<br />
He grimaced. “If it must be a board game, then I prefer Carrom.”</div>
<div>
<br />
“You fling little disks across the board into pockets.” Tessa wrinkled her nose the same way she had since she was five and pointed to one of the larger boards on the wall. “Did your family play games at home?”</div>
<div>
<br />
“Only checkers,” Violet answered.</div>
<div>
<br />
“Maybe we could read Around the World in Seventy-Two Days together,” Tessa suggested.</div>
<div>
<br />
Violet didn’t blink an eye. “I would enjoy that.”</div>
<div>
<br />
Ben Charles believed she meant it.</div>
<div>
<br />
Violet joined the play with enthusiasm, and the two young women pointed put the details of the book at each space on the board. His sister’s animation and smile gave him immense satisfaction. The game lasted a couple of hours, until he got hungry. “I’m going to go get us a tray of ham and cheese and bread.”</div>
<div>
<br />
“I can do that,” Violet spoke up.</div>
<div>
<br />
“It’s your day off,” he reminded her. “We’re used to fending for ourselves on Sunday evenings. We can pop corn over the fire later.”</div>
<div>
<br />
It was obvious their routine and customs were new to Violet. He and his sister spent a lot of time alienated from others, but perhaps even in their seclusion they’d been more like a family than anything Violet had experienced.</div>
<div>
<br />
They shared a simple meal, and later ate popcorn. Tessa played a few pieces on the pianoforte. When she’d finished she said to Violet, “I had a nice time. Thanks for joining the game.”</div>
<div>
<br />
“It was my pleasure.”</div>
<div>
<br />
Tessa kissed Ben Charles’s cheek. “Thank you, too. And don’t say it was your pleasure.”</div>
<div>
<br />
“It’s my pleasure to see you happy.”</div>
<div>
<br />
She briefly pressed her cheek to his. I’m going upstairs to read before bed. Good night.”</div>
<div>
<br />
Once she was gone, Violet stood and leaned over to gather their dishes on the tray. Without standing, Ben Charles extended his hand and placed it on her wrist. “I’ll do that.”</div>
<div>
<br />
She looked at his hand, but he didn’t remove it.</div>
<div>
<br />
He should have.</div>
<div>
<br />
She was new to their household. He intended for theirs to be a strictly working relationship, but he felt a constant need to assure her she was part of their family. He had no business changing their agreement or making her uncomfortable by letting new feelings get in the way.</div>
<div>
<br />
She’d only been here a few days.</div>
<div>
<br />
In those brief moments while her gaze moved from his hand to his face, he went over all the reasons why he needed to keep his distance.</div>
<div>
<br />
But everything about Violet appealed to him and made him feel protective. He told himself he held only a brotherly concern, like that he felt for Tessa, but the lie didn’t convince him.<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">
</span></div>
lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-75015720115194061612013-05-28T14:19:00.001-05:002013-05-28T14:21:58.152-05:00Gaming Challenge--Makin' History by *lizzie starrFrom the erotic romance <b>Makin' History</b>, by *lizzie starr (WIP)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhASwwtMcF42OoKlfK_phFsk9DL0NVmkE3Xx3cWQUrOk0N8NZRPq5G1txksFJdAvZDol402RXdFp0DN6AA4upxti5FVC0ogIFYA30PwTzzfebJCUbr6I4HWqLk4ep6LGtor-h-3BaCR4xsy/s1600/little+horse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhASwwtMcF42OoKlfK_phFsk9DL0NVmkE3Xx3cWQUrOk0N8NZRPq5G1txksFJdAvZDol402RXdFp0DN6AA4upxti5FVC0ogIFYA30PwTzzfebJCUbr6I4HWqLk4ep6LGtor-h-3BaCR4xsy/s320/little+horse.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="normalsingleCxSpFirst">
There had to be something she could do to
distract herself, before she came just thinking about Micah’s touch. They
passed a farmstead. Two horses stood by a worn wooden fence. “Zip, zip.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
Micah
jerked his head toward her. “What?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
“Oh,
just remembered a game we played in the car when I was a kid. When you see a
horse, you say ‘zip’. At the end of the trip, whoever had the most zips won.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
“What
did you win?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
She
chuckled. “Bragging rights was about it. I didn’t win too often, my dad had an
uncanny knack of seeing the horses.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
“Sounds
like fun. I challenge you to a game of... zip?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
Maybe
this would help clear her mind. Dilyn nodded. “Challenge accepted.” She pointed
“Zip. That’s three for me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
“Three?
But you zipped the first two horses before I even knew about the game.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
“Well...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
He
laughed, the deep, joyous sound settled comfortably around her heart. Then he
gave her a calculating look. “Okay, I’ll let you have your three horses. If...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
“If?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
“If
you accept a wager on the outcome.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
A
wager? Was he a gambler? Was that why he didn’t seem to have a permanent job?
She hesitated then asked, “A wager?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
Micah
nodded. He’d thrown her a curve ball and he liked seeing her unsure of his
motivations. Keeping her on edge would make the night that much better. If he
could last that long. He was ready to burst with the need to f### her. He blinked
and amended his thought. F### was too crass for her, despite their first time
together. No, from now on, no matter how wild or uninhibited their romps might
become, he’d only ever be making love to her. With her. He blinked again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
“Micah?
What do you mean by a wager?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
“Whoever
has the highest count of zips when we pull up in front of Alice’s house, gets
to choose our... activities... for the evening.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
A
spark lit her eyes before she looked out the window. “Even if it’s just
watching television.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
He doubted
either of them would choose such a boring, innocent pastime, but if that’s what
she wanted. “Even if it’s only watching television. However, I have to warn you, while Alice has
satellite, the old place, where I usually bunk, only has rabbit ears. On a good
night I can get two stations.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
She
laughed. “I’ll take my chances. The bet’s on.” She pointed again. “Two more
zips. That makes five to zero.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
Micah
enjoyed watching her scan the rolling sandhills, searching for horses. And
there were plenty. This was good land for raising horses. He gave an occasional
‘zip’ just to keep the game interesting but let her stay eight or nine ahead of
him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
“You’re
not trying very hard.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
“Zip,”
he called, nodding toward a distant hill.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
“I
don’t see any horses.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
“It
was running over the hill. Disappeared right after I called it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
Dilyn
crossed her arms. “Uh huh. I tried that, too, when I was a kid. My dad didn’t
buy it either.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
“No,
really--”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
“I’m
feeling generous, so I’ll let you have that one. Just this once.” She punched
his arm softly. “Don’t try it again, buster.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
They
were only a couple of miles from the road to Turquoise Creek Ranch, he had no
need to count imaginary horses. “Nope. I’ll only count horses we both can see.
Cross my heart.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
He
eased the car onto a gravel road and glanced at Dilyn from the corner of his
eye. She watched the land from her side of the car. Good.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
He
slowed before the final hill. The houses and main buildings were nestled between
two rolling banks of hills. And near the barn, his brother-in-law kept--<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
“Zip,
zip, zip, zip, zip...” He continued zipping until he’d counted all twenty
horses scattered across the narrow pasture.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
He
turned a triumphant grin to Dilyn. She sat, mouth open, switching her gaze
between the horse studded green and his face. “You...you cheated.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
He
shrugged. “Since this is family land, you should have guessed I’d know where the
horses are kept.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
“But...but--”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
He
stopped her complaints with a kiss. She sighed into his mouth and cupped his
cheek. He danced his tongue with hers then slowly withdrew and leaned back. “I
win. I get to choose tonight’s activities.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
A
dreamy smile accompanied her nod. “You won.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="normalsingleCxSpMiddle">
Boy,
had he ever.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="normalsingleCxSpLast">
<br /></div>
lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-35512178571870216812013-05-07T20:14:00.000-05:002013-05-07T20:14:30.669-05:00Shall We Play A Game?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-m2X_6-e45dMrPmKS3GZUNDQHjfGqNa72Kb3ScYt0Kax5EtVoXtwYj4uXFBLUf_hgM5eHSdAJ6TJSoVR4Lg-KoympRYD7W7J49ZQDJyyMxZ-C4bAY61iJ3wwNyHSVSyeXxD-7fyLFDh5R/s1600/games.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-m2X_6-e45dMrPmKS3GZUNDQHjfGqNa72Kb3ScYt0Kax5EtVoXtwYj4uXFBLUf_hgM5eHSdAJ6TJSoVR4Lg-KoympRYD7W7J49ZQDJyyMxZ-C4bAY61iJ3wwNyHSVSyeXxD-7fyLFDh5R/s400/games.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
So begins the next phase of writerly page count competition...<br />
<br />
And to start off, it's time to report pages. In the comments section, let the guru know how many new pages you've written since the last time you reported. If you've been editing, state the total number of pages with heavy edits as well. Blogs, queries, synopsis, wip, those all count!<br />
<br />
While you're leaving your page count in the comments section, let us know what your favorite game was when you were young.<br />
<br />
Let the games begin!lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-19941626672009753832013-04-08T15:50:00.000-05:002013-04-08T15:50:07.502-05:00The End of the Skating Spectacular--Happy or Sad?Our Heartlandian Skating Spectacular comes to an end April 13th. The guru will count up the scores and determine the placements of our fabulous writing teams.<br />
<br />
To do that, she needs your reports for pages written since the last time you reported. Leave a comment with the number of fresh, new pages. If you've been editing, let us know the number of heavily edited pages as well. Don't forget to leave your name!<br />
<br />
AND... I'm sure Mary would love some company in the Exhibition! Go <a href="http://heartlandwritersgroup.blogspot.com/2013/03/skating-spectacular-exhibition.html">HERE</a>, read the instructions and participate! Make sure to take a look at the exhibitions and leave a little applause. We all need encouragement.<br />
<br />
The guru is so looking forward to lots of skating 'pages'!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsyrUU7jd2Usy7miF417cZYCnIHVayVTXySyh8956sufgGrTy8GpYg3kD6sOEiHfEWr2UjH9Dewxm-u3K-gq-Qf0SK7gkEnEvu1HRL5dJEx-ujBii8AbrquBPCl5HwxpPgNQ7B-pV4-BJ/s1600/johnny+writing.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsyrUU7jd2Usy7miF417cZYCnIHVayVTXySyh8956sufgGrTy8GpYg3kD6sOEiHfEWr2UjH9Dewxm-u3K-gq-Qf0SK7gkEnEvu1HRL5dJEx-ujBii8AbrquBPCl5HwxpPgNQ7B-pV4-BJ/s200/johnny+writing.png" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-29746479565787801582013-03-30T10:14:00.000-05:002013-03-30T10:14:27.378-05:00Skating Spectacular Exhibition!The crowning event of most skating competition is the exhibition. Skaters throw off the nerves of competing and often show the audience another side of their skating personality. How much fun is that?<br />
<br />
However, with the RAH Skating Spectacular, the exhibition comes before the awards ceremony, giving each team the opportunity to earn more points toward their total score. It doesn't matter how well you've 'skated' during this event, your writing can participate in this exhibition.<br />
<br />
And how do we do that?<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDZZ70T_lbG72LqZO46FHCaR5XIj68ho4mKvNkaEaIzZI9rx1Smo_aAKNzw9p3Nt4Qh-mbmQZS1pgApUIcSt4tKmAT8xP3le3atl0BrT1dL6qJc5Ro0eFOmBo011HqpOVJXdAZ9QOw5gz/s1600/skating2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDZZ70T_lbG72LqZO46FHCaR5XIj68ho4mKvNkaEaIzZI9rx1Smo_aAKNzw9p3Nt4Qh-mbmQZS1pgApUIcSt4tKmAT8xP3le3atl0BrT1dL6qJc5Ro0eFOmBo011HqpOVJXdAZ9QOw5gz/s1600/skating2.jpg" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8pQW23WfoPJE8Hpa4fdj6i40f_9xCFiitY7tTgpusUBrFH-GqMbKngSg6avzpuZVtFTQvyMYtWBVgN8VzHDuX7sPSy8QLFjgOUAVKuajiIaSc3MoiFmODjNeYn5RHa4SyjZYk5TW66NX5/s1600/skating3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8pQW23WfoPJE8Hpa4fdj6i40f_9xCFiitY7tTgpusUBrFH-GqMbKngSg6avzpuZVtFTQvyMYtWBVgN8VzHDuX7sPSy8QLFjgOUAVKuajiIaSc3MoiFmODjNeYn5RHa4SyjZYk5TW66NX5/s1600/skating3.jpg" /></a>It's really quite simple. Each exhibition consists of seven sentences from your current work in progress. It doesn't matter where in the work the sentences appear--but they should appear together :) No explanation of the excerpt...just post the sentences. Dialog, narrative, it doesn't matter.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuFLrAAhTWZ5Wlu4Ro6RWGONlQA7ENqO5z_wLQ7ZxMTcaC9yHjGFX4aB5iHyWvDCKtFOhxTrUGsUZhxJ7hDsh-l5cDUSjtsuLV5Cy0l-GagsqO4dBml27Wbezhs1WAs7Jcvn_UeNudQSq1/s1600/skating1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuFLrAAhTWZ5Wlu4Ro6RWGONlQA7ENqO5z_wLQ7ZxMTcaC9yHjGFX4aB5iHyWvDCKtFOhxTrUGsUZhxJ7hDsh-l5cDUSjtsuLV5Cy0l-GagsqO4dBml27Wbezhs1WAs7Jcvn_UeNudQSq1/s1600/skating1.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Post your sentences in the comments section below using the following format...<br />
<b><span style="color: blue;">Title</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: blue;">by</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: blue;">Sentences</span></b><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Each exhibition will add 7 points to your team's totals.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Now, show us what you've got!!</i></b></span>lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-59163934745458372012013-03-06T08:45:00.002-06:002013-03-08T12:53:32.230-06:00Reporting Hi lizzie, I've been writing memoir essays; life's little stories at my great nieces' request. I've written ten new pages again this month. <br />
<br />
I've also been reading. I finished Mary Connealy's new book, <em><strong>Out of Control</strong></em>. Loved it. Her settings of the old west are great. I also love strong heroes ( with flaws) and even stronger heroines. This newest book even has a hint of Paradise Lost, with secret valleys and prehistoric fish. It's a page turner for sure.<br />
<br />
Connie Crow <br />
<br />ebookauthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16948900570330153354noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-67664469221962532322013-03-04T19:06:00.000-06:002013-03-04T19:06:02.795-06:00Page reporting time!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBewdF9kwvhBkRo9jpB2BDYS9Ktq7u9qQ1zj9zi_m94yulUFe6tqx20Ycr1Dv13_SYam3A8SUGPrOTN4oZCKBIiKOvMKJLFLYApyEu6FYB8p5RVwwu76xGl4XE945uICZR0CqFKufHij-O/s1600/megaphone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBewdF9kwvhBkRo9jpB2BDYS9Ktq7u9qQ1zj9zi_m94yulUFe6tqx20Ycr1Dv13_SYam3A8SUGPrOTN4oZCKBIiKOvMKJLFLYApyEu6FYB8p5RVwwu76xGl4XE945uICZR0CqFKufHij-O/s400/megaphone.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>It's page reporting time for all Heartlandians!</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>So, in the comments section leave your name, the number of new pages you've written since the last time you reported, and/or the total number of heavily edited pages.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Don't forget--read a book that has some connection, however small, to figure skating and give us a short review. Earn points for your team!</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The warm up period is over. Time to get on the ice and report!</b></span></div>
lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-19176145635760577662013-02-05T11:20:00.000-06:002013-02-05T11:20:56.213-06:00Well, another month has zipped by. I've written 10 pages this month.Not on my current WIP, but essays on several subjects for my "memoirs". But they're still fresh, new pages. ebookauthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16948900570330153354noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-4378589341726399292013-02-02T10:34:00.001-06:002013-02-02T10:34:11.326-06:00RAH Skating Spectacular!Nationals are over, and our skating champions are getting ready for worlds. Here in the HWG/RAH world, Heartlandians are deep into our own Skating Spectacular.<br />
<br />
It's time, my dears, to report pages. So in the comments section, please give your total of newly written pages (manuscript, query, synopsis, original blog posts). If you've been doing substantial edits, post the total number of those pages separately from new pages. Count pages done since January 1, 2013.<br />
<br />
If you post anonymously, please be sure to leave your name in the comments. And, I thank you.<br />
<br />
Remember the first challenge, too. Read a book that has some connection to skating. Once you give a short review of the book on the loop (and be nice to the author--post a review online), your team will be credited with the read.<br />
<br />
Okay, Heartlandians. The warm up period is over. It's your turn on the ice. Report!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo8_izQ3cKLdPRuvg8cEl-99Po13SggGT4izTfjqA4l68GihvnPLPcW2nI9gw9OE7O7jc-Q3zORUhYPWOnitlENHhC21QXOvO2ecduaJpp0xoAdxEHtsbGSKD_03V-R00ipJglJAdJS8Zu/s1600/skates.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo8_izQ3cKLdPRuvg8cEl-99Po13SggGT4izTfjqA4l68GihvnPLPcW2nI9gw9OE7O7jc-Q3zORUhYPWOnitlENHhC21QXOvO2ecduaJpp0xoAdxEHtsbGSKD_03V-R00ipJglJAdJS8Zu/s320/skates.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-87269713665976321692012-11-11T20:51:00.001-06:002012-11-11T20:51:04.325-06:00Yay, Mary!Well, Here I am again. Thank you, Mary. I think I'm all subscribed again. I'll try better to post to the blog. My Sweet Adelines show was yesterday, and we'll be taking a break very soon over the holidays, so I should have much more writing time. Yay!<br />
<br />
Connie <br />
ebookauthorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16948900570330153354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-76955881278911245882012-10-09T07:19:00.001-05:002012-10-09T07:19:47.703-05:00October Days, October Pages<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's that time again--a week before our monthly meeting.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And you know what that means!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Time to post your page reports here in the comments section.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Your guru thanks you.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0OCUSmdkaBo0Y23oeGybDAIz3Swz6Jdwy_-9aCJQ4mf3oz095iBtRM2insD9TIGKkQtoY8HFawIDpNGeR54Ef6ZKZzSQsx5oa5l5uKPwTTkgz0yGO_ovQqvExNnrxAoNgRMDgyUv4MKI/s1600/pen1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0OCUSmdkaBo0Y23oeGybDAIz3Swz6Jdwy_-9aCJQ4mf3oz095iBtRM2insD9TIGKkQtoY8HFawIDpNGeR54Ef6ZKZzSQsx5oa5l5uKPwTTkgz0yGO_ovQqvExNnrxAoNgRMDgyUv4MKI/s200/pen1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<br />lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-39788311490236957852012-09-25T12:05:00.001-05:002012-09-25T12:05:33.187-05:00Ideas as to Pages You Could Have on Your Website<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 6pt 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Most sites have a number of
pages. Here are just a few.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 6pt 1in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">1.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Home Page / Welcome page</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– is like the entryway to your house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is an introduction to you. It should
include things like author’s picture, available books, a welcome note, brief
biography and links to all the other pages on the
site.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 6pt 1in;">
<br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">2.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Books Page</b> – as an author you want people to find your books. This
page should contain all the books you’ve written with either blurbs, excerpts or
reviews. Or links to this information.<br /><br /><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">3.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Bio Page</b> – a page to tell people about yourself. Who you are, what
you write, more about your personal interests and other information you want to
share.<br /><br /><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">4.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Links Page</b> – this page gives visitors to
your site links to other places on the Internet where they can find you. Also,
it can include links to your friends and publisher. This is important because
links to other sites that link back to you increases your rating on the
Internet. (This also increase your SEO rating—see definition below.)<br /><br /><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">5.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Other Pages</b> – the possibility for other pages are endless. Here is
where you make your site your own.<br /><br /><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">6.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Picture page</b> - share pictures.<br /><br /><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">7.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Contact page</b> – where you give fans your email address.<br /><br /><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">8.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Excerpt pages</b> – giving excerpts of your books or the ability to read
the first chapter.<br /><br /><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">9.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Video Page</b> – to display video you’ve
made. (A great way to connect with readers.)<br /><br /><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">10.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some sites</b> even have chat areas.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 6pt 1in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 6pt 1in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Just a few to think about when developing your site.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 6pt 1in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 6pt 1in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Tina</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 6pt 1in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://www.tinagayle.net/">www.tinagayle.net</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 6pt 1in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://www.tinagayle.blogspot.com/">www.tinagayle.blogspot.com</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 6pt 1in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 6pt 1in;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"></span> </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-48868466983327081442012-09-03T09:55:00.002-05:002012-09-03T09:55:37.305-05:00September Balloons Are Flying High!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHip1ZgMiJas8O8S2PwYcNINrclslCj6WMuZgSiISRkcvx8xPyqsKVbAybGjaWacmQStPZ5dnL0koOuxvFyhkls35pkk97Gmy0CLmq6b4oJ6E0QJtTj-icONuF27qmRMFdinbig8GEXiYU/s1600/3+hot+air.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHip1ZgMiJas8O8S2PwYcNINrclslCj6WMuZgSiISRkcvx8xPyqsKVbAybGjaWacmQStPZ5dnL0koOuxvFyhkls35pkk97Gmy0CLmq6b4oJ6E0QJtTj-icONuF27qmRMFdinbig8GEXiYU/s200/3+hot+air.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: #f5ffc4; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #f5ffc4; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #f5ffc4; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">Use the comments below to report your page counts for the past month!</span><br />
<br style="background-color: #f5ffc4; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;" />
<span style="background-color: #f5ffc4; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">leave a comment with the number of your<br /> a.newly written pages (remember this can be anything writing related)<br /> b. total number of heavily edited pages<br /> c. any reviews you may have done over the past month</span></span>
<br />
<span style="background-color: #f5ffc4; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: #f5ffc4; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Sometimes when you're up in the air, it's hard to hear the cheers from below. So cheer a little louder, my dears! </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f5ffc4; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span>lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-38769132125671192182012-08-06T10:15:00.000-05:002012-08-06T10:15:32.123-05:00Time for August Pages!<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b><u>It's time again to report pages!</u></b></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;">leave a comment with the number of your</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"> a.newly written pages (remember this can be anything writing related)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"> b. total number of heavily edited pages</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"> c. any reviews you may have done over the past month</span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBvgiJl1kV9YVMl9QO2R4MFvwHtGgP59ucLkiMlbreBe0StvrA0RLpNPic84phmxPjAMFibZlrK-BiKC1_QIpK2kw5fRF_Nll4QgvOOdCDYxunrfeQOmQPV5ejeu6Ms7cKrsEaXUyIf4-s/s1600/blank+notebook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBvgiJl1kV9YVMl9QO2R4MFvwHtGgP59ucLkiMlbreBe0StvrA0RLpNPic84phmxPjAMFibZlrK-BiKC1_QIpK2kw5fRF_Nll4QgvOOdCDYxunrfeQOmQPV5ejeu6Ms7cKrsEaXUyIf4-s/s1600/blank+notebook.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">hopefully your pages don't look like this!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 20.799999237060547px;"><br /></span></span>lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-21940904651592032642012-08-02T09:49:00.002-05:002012-08-02T09:49:29.455-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiozRmtnOl5NV6qSlcJThlj20u8ID9xQPCeldoult1Ox7g-TqO8mu7m7Rq4PD3j1v5cKAqg_UBSEf2ui-xpQuZLPB9JE9-xYrQtt8BlnQwnN5mtncn07UZFBBQkLlf6OFcuTGa_880n7J9Y/s1600/cindy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiozRmtnOl5NV6qSlcJThlj20u8ID9xQPCeldoult1Ox7g-TqO8mu7m7Rq4PD3j1v5cKAqg_UBSEf2ui-xpQuZLPB9JE9-xYrQtt8BlnQwnN5mtncn07UZFBBQkLlf6OFcuTGa_880n7J9Y/s320/cindy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Check out the gorgeous Cindy Kirk (far right) receiving an achievement award for 25 books published with Harlequin! </div>Sherri Shackelfordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03190787952821357207noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-30294812847397995252012-07-08T17:49:00.003-05:002012-07-08T17:49:52.435-05:00We're Reporting Pages<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Hellooooo Heartlandians!</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Use the comments below to report your page counts for the past month!</span><br />
<br />
<span><span style="font-family: Arial;">leave a comment with the number of your<br />
a.newly written pages (remember this can be anything writing related)<br />
b. total number of heavily edited pages<br />
c. any reviews you may have done over the past month</span></span><br />
<span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><b>And the guru thanks you!</b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiixX7uHu4Ps5CSAtzJBWvCyBjo_lWiFzH7k3c2wxwRNN3ZVRKi7yFv4Is8vUt5BzsSLDGREvCp_jCjFugf5BD1bADkS8mXAMvDoTsifkertiGEvRNX90t8cPJuTTUW9iAhghN4vXM2S5Y_/s1600/pen2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiixX7uHu4Ps5CSAtzJBWvCyBjo_lWiFzH7k3c2wxwRNN3ZVRKi7yFv4Is8vUt5BzsSLDGREvCp_jCjFugf5BD1bADkS8mXAMvDoTsifkertiGEvRNX90t8cPJuTTUW9iAhghN4vXM2S5Y_/s200/pen2.jpg" width="195" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-78164921500578843602012-05-06T08:26:00.000-05:002012-05-06T08:31:34.409-05:00The Seven Winds<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih5y7wIIX-QsP4krAbIst5Rmt-OQ2xPd8QGeVQJy4c1xbhBCo23sSBW1Bv01CvVBeWP4JRK4HN62Fjo5W5cTIZvTXjIl3KWPGFsJyrI4oHDBXBbKnULiPquoafauqqKSGgh9CEDG8Gn4xt/s1600/wind.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih5y7wIIX-QsP4krAbIst5Rmt-OQ2xPd8QGeVQJy4c1xbhBCo23sSBW1Bv01CvVBeWP4JRK4HN62Fjo5W5cTIZvTXjIl3KWPGFsJyrI4oHDBXBbKnULiPquoafauqqKSGgh9CEDG8Gn4xt/s1600/wind.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>A HWG Balloon Race Challenge</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Just as in some traditions there are seven winds, so the guru issues a challenge focused on seven. Complete this challenge and help your team sail farther than you can imagine this month. And--it's easy. What could be better than that?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1. This challenge lasts 7 days--until Saturday May 12th--midnight.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">2. Use the comments below to submit your participation. No other submission will be accepted. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(If you have any problems posting, let the guru know)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">3. Comments on other submissions are welcome and appreciated. And you never know, they might even help your flight.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">4. Here's what to do:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> *Go to page 7 of your current WIP</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> **Go to line 7</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> **In the comments section type the next 7 lines <b><i><u>exactly</u></i></b> as they are written. No editing, no nothin'. Complete sentences aren't necessary. This is a WIP after all.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> ***put your name and the title at the end of your comment</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Check back often for other authors' triple 7's. How lucky is that! </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Support your Balloon Race Team!</b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHip1ZgMiJas8O8S2PwYcNINrclslCj6WMuZgSiISRkcvx8xPyqsKVbAybGjaWacmQStPZ5dnL0koOuxvFyhkls35pkk97Gmy0CLmq6b4oJ6E0QJtTj-icONuF27qmRMFdinbig8GEXiYU/s1600/3+hot+air.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHip1ZgMiJas8O8S2PwYcNINrclslCj6WMuZgSiISRkcvx8xPyqsKVbAybGjaWacmQStPZ5dnL0koOuxvFyhkls35pkk97Gmy0CLmq6b4oJ6E0QJtTj-icONuF27qmRMFdinbig8GEXiYU/s200/3+hot+air.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>lizzie starrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08375713739033553407noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-60840160357548846222012-04-24T12:12:00.002-05:002012-04-24T12:15:26.394-05:00Wag Your Tail<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Having animals in our house, underfoot, and pooping in our
back yard can enrich our everyday life. All the experts say it’s true. But is
it?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">We have had two incredible dogs, mutts really. We made a
trip to the pound to pick out both. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwFidwv0jMZ45_A3NJvw0UVPXCmupeyOMBAA-pnS0AAskv37MMDspMp523RSi_7XUViqsh0OAnVJ1OjcYb-i7iV_6opMMpoSgUipBRJuvFujIAR4X3rO7QYFmx6q_I25eMtadOaqiQsGim/s1600/peach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwFidwv0jMZ45_A3NJvw0UVPXCmupeyOMBAA-pnS0AAskv37MMDspMp523RSi_7XUViqsh0OAnVJ1OjcYb-i7iV_6opMMpoSgUipBRJuvFujIAR4X3rO7QYFmx6q_I25eMtadOaqiQsGim/s320/peach.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><v:shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">
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<o:lock aspectratio="t" v:ext="edit">
</o:lock></v:path></v:stroke></span></v:shapetype></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Peach, we got when she was barely six weeks old. A cute
little thing that weighted less than a few pounds, she grew. A grey hound/lab
mix, she weighted over thirty pounds once she became an adult and over fifty
when she couldn’t run it off.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdbj7vDXTkGk2RqKWI2b5X0NSMxW8jgFiX2yt64pduKJ-7VOK1dWMZulQ5ae3aHV6vckFHr4dxV9O-jeFFRN0un4OFfub8fRbTqH2DL7QtcoeWXawIhO7CkzJ8e3P9izM1Pi6RYEHCc4Dj/s1600/callie.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdbj7vDXTkGk2RqKWI2b5X0NSMxW8jgFiX2yt64pduKJ-7VOK1dWMZulQ5ae3aHV6vckFHr4dxV9O-jeFFRN0un4OFfub8fRbTqH2DL7QtcoeWXawIhO7CkzJ8e3P9izM1Pi6RYEHCc4Dj/s320/callie.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Callie, a border terrier, we picked up when she was about
three. With small dog syndrome, she did not like the idea of staying in our
back yard. Had a heck of a time with her until she ran away and got caught by
the dog catcher. She decided she liked us better than the pound. Now, she’s a
lap dog. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Did they enrich my families’ life? Oh, yes.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">So when I decided to write the Executives’ Wives’ Club
Series. I had to have a dog, one for Jen, the star of The Unwilling Widow. She
doesn’t really have anyone. Her husband is dead, her family is supportive but
she doesn’t feel as if she fits in and all of the other executive wives have
kids. Jen needed someone too.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Enters George the wonder dog, and yes, he knows it. He is
spoiled rotten and loves it that way. His world is Jen and being an adorable
blonde lab, he expects everyone to love him like she does. Who couldn’t right?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Then to his horror enters a new man. Not his dad, but
someone new.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0tAlg2ODjcEtuKUQKNhbha5NIx-p5GKJxMq3mwTLJBgt7GbSBHEtGHHVjlXJzxBbmuSE7Ai7kMEX78qwkcb0WriAX6XM_A3z10odqw6kZlhkmlqrU6eedtsCD-H9_MGHSjGC_Zfqtwafk/s1600/TheUnwillingWidow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0tAlg2ODjcEtuKUQKNhbha5NIx-p5GKJxMq3mwTLJBgt7GbSBHEtGHHVjlXJzxBbmuSE7Ai7kMEX78qwkcb0WriAX6XM_A3z10odqw6kZlhkmlqrU6eedtsCD-H9_MGHSjGC_Zfqtwafk/s320/TheUnwillingWidow.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Blurb <span style="color: black;">-- "The Unwilling Widow"</span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: large;">Jennifer Larson, having lost her husband, friends
and the perfect life she’d had plan, now faces the biggest challenge of her
life, moving into an unplanned future. While the rest of the Executive Wife
Club is still wallowing in the past, Jen is tempted into the future by a sexy
chiropractor, Hagan Chaney.</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: large;">But does he really love her or is he only after
her money?</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<br /><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">Come visit me any time at </span><a href="http://www.tinagayle.net/"><span style="font-size: large;">www.tinagayle.net</span></a></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Thanks for letting me share,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tina Gayle<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3096360174042993902.post-1225429665687825512012-03-15T12:34:00.001-05:002012-03-15T12:34:21.319-05:00The Wedding Journey, Cheryl St.John<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/4U5qPfCnCeM?rel=0" width="420"></iframe>Cheryl St.Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00947267011326863581noreply@blogger.com0