I'll be blogging over at the Harlequin Blog tomorrow, June 11th about memories. They are the gift that last forever, after all. So, stop by and join in the discussion.
Ever wonder what the hero or heroine of a good book was really thinking? Wouldn't it be nice if you could sit down and talk to them personally? Well, now you can. Faith McKenzie, my heroine from FORGOTTEN PAST, is blogging over at Margaret Daley's blog on Friday, June 13th.
Stop by and check out her thoughts and comment to win a copy of FORGOTTEN PAST.
I have an interview up at Julie Saffrin's Bless Back site. I'll be giving away a signed copy of FORGOTTEN PAST to one commenter. The contest ends on June 11th. So stop by and say hi and comment and you could be the winner!
I'll be giving away a signed print copy of Forgotten Past over at Susan Sleeman's THE SUSPENSE ZONE blog. The contest runs all month. Here are the links:
Today is Mother's Day and even though my mom is gone, I still think of her every day. I ran across this beautiful poem and thought I'd dedicate it to my mom and to all the mom's around the world. If your mother is still living, don't forget... to tell her how much she means to you while you have the chance. Her Hands
Her hands held me gently from the day I took my first breath. Her hands helped to guide me as I took my first step. Her hands held me close when the tears would start to fall. Her hands were quick to show me that she would take care of it all.
Her hands were there to brush my hair, or straighten a wayward bow. Her hands were often there to comfort the hurts that didn't always show. Her hands helped hold the stars in place, and encouraged me to reach. Her hands would clap and cheer and praise when I captured them at length.
Her hands would also push me, though not down or in harms way. Her hands would punctuate the words, just do what I say. Her hands sometimes had to discipline, to help bend this young tree. Her hands would shape and mold me into all she knew I could be.
Her hands are now twisting with age and years of work, Her hand now needs my gentle touch to rub away the hurt. Her hands are more beautiful than anything can be. Her hands are the reason I am me.