• Happy Saint Patrick’s Day! ~ If I weren’t Italian I’d want to be Irish

     

    Happy Saint Patrick’s Day 2017! 

    Below is my Saint Patrick’s Day Post from 2015. I edited it a bit and decided to share it again. I am currently at my daughter’s house, taking care of two of my three grandkids, G and E.

    G and E are 5 and 3 years old. Today G informed me that “the Leprechaun at school was crazy.” Apparently the class went out for some activity, and when they returned they saw that the Leprechaun had made a big mess of some building blocks.

    E is not in school. He still spoke of St. Patrick’s Day though, and is sporting a green socks and a shirt that reads: “I’m not Irish but Kiss Me Anyway.”

    Even E agrees that Saint Patrick’s Day is way cool. If I weren’t Italian I would want to be Irish.

     

     



                           _______________________________________________

    Happy Saint Patrick’s Day! Everyone wishes they were Irish today. 🙂 🍀 What a great heritage the Irish enjoy, especially today.

    I come from Italian roots on my dad’s side, and English roots on mom’s side. My mother sort of became Italian by default, though she does still cook in in a manner handed down from her mother, who was born in the North Carolina Blue Ridge. Mom’s ancestors came to America from England in the 1700’s. Some old world Celtic traditions were handed down in that part of Appalachia, so maybe it’s not so strange that I enjoy this Irish holiday.

    Happy Saint Patrick's Day

    Who wouldn’t? The Irish are fun.

    They drink great beer. Irish dancing is a wonder to behold. Irish cabled sweaters are intricate and cool. I plan to knit one for my husband before long. There are lots of fun traditions associated with St. Patrick’s Day.

    My daughter went to Ireland during her junior year of college. I don’t know how she managed it, as she was working her way through as a waitress, and due to her penchant for parking on the wrong side of the street, she seemed to be keeping the borough of West Chester, PA in business through constant parking tickets, fines and the like.

    However, somehow she managed a trip to Ireland. I don’t know all that went on, of course. After all, she was in college. I do remember hearing that she narrowly escaped a bar fight in Limerick.

    She’s lucky. Back then, my 5’2” little girl weighed approximately 102 pounds, soaking wet. Today, 14 years later, she’s about three pounds heavier. (Unfortunately for me, she got her weight genes from her father.)

    My husband and I worried about her for the duration of the trip, of course. That’s only to be expected. However, she does have a beautiful little daughter of her own now. Someday she’ll know how we felt. Paybacks, as they say, are hell.

    St Patrick of Ireland

    St. Patrick is one of the most beloved and well known saints in the Church.

    I love to look at the stained glass window depicting him in my own parish church. There are lovely prayer traditions associated with St. Patrick.

    From Saint Patrick’s Breastplate

    Christ be with me
    Christ before me
    Christ behind me
    Christ in me
    Christ beneath me
    Christ above me
    Christ on my right
    Christ on my left
    Christ where I lie
    Christ where I sit
    Christ where I arise
    Christ in the heart of every man
    who thinks of me
    Christ in the mouth of every man
    who speaks of me
    Christ in every eye that sees me
    Christ in every ear that hears me
    Salvation is of the Lord.

    There are many Irish prayers, blessings and sayings that have come down through the ages. All are poetic and beautiful, and sometimes sad.

    Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

    Do not stand at my grave and weep,
    I am not there… I do not sleep.
    I am the thousand winds that blow…
    I am the diamond glints on snow…
    I am the sunlight on ripened grain…
    I am the gentle autumn rain.
    When you waken in the morning’s hush,
    I am the swift uplifting rush
    Of gentle birds in circling flight…
    I am the soft star that shines at night.
    Do not stand at my grave and cry—
    I am not there… I did not die…

    Ireland_Passing

    May neighbours respect you,
    Trouble neglect you,
    The angels protect you,
    And heaven accept you.

    a-353

    I hope everyone reading this has a fun and blessed St. Patrick’s Day. I think I’ll see if my grandkids are doing anything special today. Maybe they will make me a construction paper shamrock. 🙂

    Irish_Blessing_by_Mjollnir419

                        _________________________________________________________

    There’s not much to add to the above, except for the following video, “Lord of the Dance.”

     

    I like to watch Irish dancing, especially Michael Flatley. Seeing Riverdance is on my Bucket list. If only I could get my husband to take me…

    Incidentally, my new novel, Cadáin’s Watch, contains a character of Irish ancestry. The character is Michael Sean Wallace, protagonist Jason Wallace’s long lost father.

    Part of the father-son story is based on the tradition of the Will O’ the Wisp, or Tine Ghealáin in Irish folklore.

     

    Irish folkloric figure. What is called in other lands the will-o’-the-wisp, a light seen over bogs at night, was said in Ireland to be a lantern carried by a dead gambler doomed to wander forever because, although his soul was too stained to enter heaven, he had won his way out of hell by beating the devil at cards. His name was applied to the hollowed-out turnips (in the New World, pumpkins) used at samhain, when the veils between the worlds were thin.

    I found many legends of the Will O’ the Wisp from many European countries, but it was a bit difficult to find the Irish version. However, I did find it on some Celtic folklore website that I can’t find today.

    The above comes from an online Irish translation site. I also learned how to pronounce the phrase Tine Ghealáin from a different online site where you can listen to the words in Irish.

    To find out how I incorporated this legend into my story, read the preview at the link below. And if you like the preview, please hit that buy button, read the book, and PLEASE write a review or a few sentences about what you liked or didn’t like about the book on Amazon.

    Yes, I am begging for book reviews! Independent authors need as many reviews as possible for their books to get noticed. Getting noticed means selling more books and having more resources to put toward the next book. 🙂

    Wishing all who read this a very happy Saint Patrick’s Day!

     

    Related Post:
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  • Dear McDonald’s: Goodbye and Good Riddance

    Unless you’ve been without any source of news today, you probably know that McDonald’s Corporation sent out a hate tweet about President Trump this morning.

     

    Above is the tweet sent from McDonald’s account. It was deleted in short order, as soon as it had done the work it was intended to do. (Set off a gaggle of Leftwing media hacks who would pen gleeful stories, slam them onto Facebook like chum, and wait for Leftist American sharks to go in for the kill.)

    All went as planned. The stories cheering McDonald’s for their show of Trump Derangement Syndrome were eaten up by Leftist Americans who used twitter and Facebook to verbally abuse Trump and those who voted for him. Here’s one such story that praises McDonald’s.

    Here is a link to the Facebook posts. If you want to see the happiness of the Media and the hatred of Leftists for the rest of us, have a look. If you’re a Leftist hater who delights in seeing other Americans called names, etc., you’ll get a good fix. Maybe enough to last until Saturday.

    If you’re someone who wants all the division and hatred to stop, you shouldn’t look. It’s ugly, as Leftist chum usually is.

     

    McDonald’s insists their corporate twitter account was hacked by an outsider. OK. Whatever. I don’t buy it, because Robert Gibbs, the Whitehouse press secretary during Obama’s first term, is now the executive vice president and global chief communications officer of McDonald’s.

     

    McDonald's

     

    After eight hours of watching the media feeding frenzy, McDonald’s put out an “apology.”

    The word apology is in quotes, because it’s not an apology. A real apology would say something like this:

    This morning our corporate twitter account was hacked by an outsider who tweeted a disparaging tweet about President Donald Trump. We in no way agree with the sentiment that was sent from our account. The words were derogatory, crude, and hateful.

    We apologize for the tweet, and we are doing everything in our power to find the hacker. We at McDonald’s do not engage in politics. Our business is to serve all of America, including the First Family and President Trump. We regret this unfortunate incident. Thank you.

    There. See how easy that was? Even a deplorable like me could write a proper apology. So, why couldn’t McDonald’s?

     

    McDonald's Fries

     

    We all know why such a statement was made. So, let the boycott begin. It doesn’t bother me if McDonald’s stock goes into the sh*tter. I never eat their food. (I would like my heart to remain healthy).

    But I do lament the memories that were crapped on today. When I was a little girl, my father took my mother, sisters and me to McDonald’s about once a month. I will never forget sitting in the backseat of an old Ford Dad drove in the mid 1960s with Amy.

    Little Lori Ann, our Down Syndrome sister, must have been sitting in the front seat, because I don’t recall her being there.

    My father went to a window to order cheeseburgers and fries, and Amy and I ate in the backseat in the wintertime.

    My parents continued to patronize McDonald’s for the rest of their marriage. They liked McDonald’s coffee. If I happened to be with them as an adult, driving to the beach, Dad always stopped at the Smyrna Delaware McDonald’s for breakfast.

    More broken memories. There are plenty of others that have been ripped open by the Leftists.

    Whatever…

    On McDonald’s Facebook page, American Trump supporters are vowing to stop patronizing them. 

    McDonald's Clown
    Buh-bye

     

    And, they will. Leftists are taunting and degrading Trump supporters as usual, saying they won’t boycott, they are fools to get upset about a tweet, and all of the rest of the talking points they suck up from whatever slimy websites they frequent.

    No matter. We will stop eating there. The only thing I liked was their coffee, but I can go anywhere for coffee. (Except for Starbuck’s).

    So unless they provide a real apology, McDonald’s should be ready for their stock to take a nosedive. C’est la vie.

    Wall Street Smart-Ass McDonald's

    McDonald’s has done what good Leftists always do: follow their women. The snarky little twit above doesn’t like Bull markets either. So why shouldn’t Gibbs or whoever sent that damn tweet get behind her and dare that Bull to rip into McDonald’s? It makes as much sense as anything else Liberals do.

    But the Bull doesn’t give a damn about Obama, or McDonald’s, or the above “little girl.”

    That Bull is a fan of Donald Trump. 

     

    McDonald's
    #MAGA!

     

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    Today’s Democrats: Intolerance, Hatred and Cruelty are the Order of the Day

     

    Shameless Self Promotional Plug

     

    Above is the book trailer for Cadáin’s Watch, my newly released novel. You can read a preview at the link below. It’s available for kindle, and will soon be available in paperback.😊


  • New Dystopia, Cadáin’s Watch ~ Live on #Amazon for #Kindle

    After two years of work, Cadain’s Watch (Storms Of Transformation Series Book 3) has been published! This is the final installment of my dystopia.

    Cadain’s Watch is a near future dystopia. It is set in America, 10 years from now.  You can find the Kindle version on Amazon.

     

    For folks who would rather not read Ebooks, the paperback is coming soon, so stay tuned.

     

    Below is the Cadáin’s Watch Book Trailer.

     

     

    For reflections from an early reader, check out this post from Book Horde.

     

    I was sent a review copy which I just started reading and I am really impressed by how much the writer has grown since the first book, Tears of Paradox, which I reviewed last year. My main complaint about the first book was that we were too much in the characters’ heads and as a result the pacing was erratic and at times confusing.

    Cadain’s Watch does not have that problem – the characters are continually in action and the narrative flows briskly. This is great because it allows the writer’s talent for creating characters that feel intensely really come through.

     

    Thanks to all my friends and readers for your support! I hope you enjoy the book.

     

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  • Free Preview of Cadáin’s Watch ~ #Book Three in my #Dystopian Series

    Cadáin’s Watch, Kindle edition, is going live on Amazon next Tuesday, March 14. Want a sneak peak? Get one free!

    Read a free preview of the final book in my dystopian series by clicking this link, and the preview will be delivered to your inbox.

    And don’t forget to preorder the book! Available on Amazon for only $2.99.

    For folks who don’t have kindles, there will be a paperback edition. Coming soon, so stay tuned!

     

    Michelle and Jason escaped the wreckage of their beloved hometown and are determined to live free. Though they are hunted by the totalitarian bureaucracy, they vow to resist oppression no matter the cost.

    But insidious evil still threatens. Once proud Americans are hopeless and unwilling to fight, making it that much harder for the rebels in their quest for Liberty.

    And so, God intervenes, and the angel-warrior Cadáin is sent to watch over those whose spirits are unbroken.

     

     

    Heres a one minute promo for Tears of Paradox (Storms Of Transformation Series Book 1).

     

     

    You can find this book on your right, or just click here.


  • Running Photo Blog ~ White Clay Creek

    I have gone back to my regular routine of running in White Clay Creek Preserve, near my home in Landenberg, PA. 

     

    Actually, walking and running. My sister wants to get in shape for summer, and due to arthritis and other painful issues, she can’t run. So we began walking together once or twice a week, carrying hand weights.

     

    Below are some of the sights from the past week.

     

    Today I walked with sis. We drove past this vineyard on our way to the parking lot.

     

     

    Following are photos from today’s walk.

     

     

    We walked along a section of the Penn Del trail and passed by the ruins (not pictured) of what once was the longest covered bridge in Landenberg. The bridge burned down in 1960 and was never rebuilt. The fire is generally thought to have been arson.

    According to an author friend who is doing research for a new book on the history of Landenberg, the bridge in question was built in 1874, and was 75 feet long and 14 feet wide.

    My online friend–he runs the Landenberg community Facebook Page–told the group that Landenberg once contained more covered bridges (a total of 10) than any other town in America.

    Chester County, where my family has lived since the early part of the 20th century, was the county with the most covered bridges, and the state of Pennsylvania held more covered bridges than any other state in the Union.

    As I have mentioned before, I get much of my inspiration for writing while running the trails next to the White Clay.

    Following is a scene from my book, The Notice, which makes mention of the bridge in question, along with the small church and graveyard just down the road. The church, London Tract Meeting House, was built around 1730. (I can’t remember the exact date off the top of my head.)

    London Tract Church is nicknamed Ticking Tomb Church, because one of the graves is said to emit a ticking sound. There’s a legend regarding this grave, but I can’t remember the details. It’s on google if you want to find out more.

    The sophomore asked if I wanted to see the area where she’d grown up.

    So we went for a drive. She directed me out Route 24 a little way, and then down various back roads, still in the late afternoon sun. We crossed into two other states and back before traveling down other creepy, overhung, winding roads and ending up back in the sticks somewhere.

    We drove by her parents’ house. I thought it looked like a mansion, high on top of a hill. I asked if she wanted to see them, and she just laughed. She said no, they didn’t need to know she was here, not right now. I got the impression they didn’t get along but I didn’t ask anything else. We rode around for a while, up and down hills on snaky little twisty back roads bordered by a creek, with old, rusting guardrails alongside. We passed road kill in various stages of decay, being fought over by vultures. More vultures circled lazily, high above an open field.

    We drove around for at least forty-five minutes, through woods and fields full of deer, cornfields and a few little churches, (none of them Catholic). We passed fieldstone houses and barns that looked hundreds of years old. A few stood so close to the road, it seemed they could have been touched by putting a hand out the car window. It was obvious some had once been inns or hotels. They were huge and rambling, maybe a little overgrown but still inhabited. Old structures stood in the middle of nowhere. Their fieldstone walls had been built up high, but now they were crumbling and not holding back anything anymore. We passed another strange sight. It was a fieldstone wall built into the side of a steep bank, with a tiny, arched, cave-like opening that may or may not have led somewhere.

    Horses, cows and sheep grazed in meadows next to long stretches of thick woods. Pastures full of cows bordered neighborhoods on the tops of hills, with huge houses, much bigger than the ones in my neighborhood. I’d never been through such a place in my life. The whole area came across as a different world, but what really stood out to me were all the bridges. They were everywhere, coming one after the other around every turn we took, and they were all shapes and sizes. Some were ancient covered bridges, so old I was surprised they were safe. I asked the sophomore why there were so many bridges. She replied that there was no way in or out of the area unless you crossed the creek. It wound in and out and around, and you had to cross it to get through the actual town. When I asked her nervously if we were almost there, she just laughed and said we’d been through already. I asked her when, and she replied that it wasn’t really a town, just a wide place in the road. An old store stood there, along with a church and another ancient bridge.

    I had no idea where I was. Up until then I hadn’t even known such places existed, especially that close to my hometown. Mom didn’t take us on vacations. She made it a point to expose us to what she deemed “culture,” and dragged us to New York City every summer to visit the Museum of Modern Art, the opera, science institutes, and off-Broadway plays. I hated every damn minute of it. I never complained, but unfortunately, with the exception of New York City, my only travels consisted of trips to the beach with Brad every summer. But I’m getting out. I’ll see the world…and I’ll forget her.

    The area surrounding us seemed surreal. I was reminded of that painter Brad’s mom liked, the one who painted farms, a lot of barns, all in muted tones. The image of a huge pig flashed through my mind and was gone as fast as it came. We crawled down another winding road along the creek and then on through some kind of deserted little crossroad next to an old stone church and a graveyard. The place was enclosed by a fieldstone wall, half falling down. The gravestones slanted this way and that. Next to the road stood a tall stone with a plaque mounted on it. I pulled over hastily to read it, thinking it might tell me where I was, but the words that jumped out of the dimness were “Indiantown,” and “William Penn,” along with the date: 1683. Then the sophomore began talking about the graveyard. Apparently, one of the graves was haunted. She called it Ticking Tomb, whatever the hell that meant.

    The words Mason-Dixon jumped out of her chatter, but all I noticed were the lightning bugs, flickering and flashing among the gravestones. Then I let out the clutch and we squealed away. The whole thing was giving me the creeps. As I sped on, she warned me not to turn off toward what looked like a place I could pull over. I need to take a leak. This place is creepy.

    The sophomore told me to keep straight on the road, or else we’d come to a dead end where stood the ruins of another covered bridge. It was burned down by arsonists fifty years earlier, and never rebuilt. She said it would have taken us to the next state again if we could have driven that way another quarter mile. I went on straight, still needing to take a whiz. Then we came to yet another little one-lane bridge, looming in the dim light of dusk. It humped in the middle and I was almost afraid to go up it, not knowing what might be lurking on the other side. MaybeBilly Penn’s ghost, or some pissed off Lenape holding a hatchet.

    My hair seemed to stand on end. I shivered, even though it was eighty-five degrees, as we finally went on. After the bridge the road narrowed even more. It became mostly gravel and I hoped Brad’s car didn’t get hit by tar chips. I can’t afford a new paint job. I navigated potholes, stepped on the clutch and shifted into low gear to get the Trans Am up a steep hill that was bordered on either side by high banks and more trees. They arched gloomily over the road in the twilight before it widened a little again, and we went down the other side. Where the hell are we? This place is creepy as shit.

    I asked her if she knew where we were, and she laughed again as we continued on up another hill, passing more cornfields on the left and dark woods on the right. She told me to take the next right. Go out the back way; we’d be back on the highway in ten minutes. It was getting dark as I turned at the stop sign, and we went on down another stretch of road. It was perfectly flat, bordered on either side by nothing but meadows and cornfields and one old farmhouse, way back at the edge of the woods. Damn…what a place for a race. Wish I knew about this a few years ago when Ceej and that little punk bastard were racing. This place would have been perfect. That little stuck up punk…wonder whatever happened to him…

    Her next words—something to the effect that the place had been known as the Flats for as long as anyone could remember, and that her uncle used to race his ‘68 GTO there before he went on to be killed in Vietnam—made my hair stand on end again. But then I saw the sign. Some state park buried out there in the boonies.

     

    The above scene is told from the POV of protagonist Jason, who while a high school senior had a fling with a mysterious older woman known as the sophomore. (For more on the sophomore, please read book 3 in my series).

    Though told from Jason’s POV, I wrote what I saw as child in my own hometown, and what I see today while running. Some readers grow impatient with my dreamy flashback scenes, but I want my grandchildren to someday read my vision of the town where their great-great grandparents lived.

     

    Here are some shots from the past week or so.

    White Clay Creek
    View of White Clay Creek. Taken in Delaware.
    A bridge in Landenberg Pennsylvania
    This is the bridge that Jason was nervous about crossing. It does hump in the middle, and it’s difficult to see what might be waiting on the opposite side. Located on Sharpless Road, a short distance from London Tract Meetinghouse.
    White Clay Creek Preserve, Landenberg, PA
    Snowdrops next to Sharpless Road.

    Sharpless Road, Landenberg. This is the other side of the hill that Jason and the sophomore drove down.

     

    This morning, sis and I drove home on the above road. (Sis didn’t really know it existed!) It’s one of my favorite places to run, since the view from the top of the hill is stunning no matter the season. Note the slight tinge of red buds in the trees.

    Besides the benefits to my health, running also takes off any load of worry or anxiety I may be having. And it’s also a great way to get inspiration.

    Below is an abandoned farmhouse nearby. We walked past it today. This is what it looked like last summer.

     

     

     

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    Above is a one minute video. Check out what people are saying about The Notice, and if you want to find out more, go to the sidebar on your right for a free preview. Only $2.99!


  • Guest Post: Author Dawn Witzke ~ Society Gone South

     

    Today I’m pleased to have Dawn Witzke, author of the debut novel Path of Angels (Underground Series Book 1) as a guest on D Street.

    Dawn writes about one of the many traditional institutions that has been compromised by the American Left.

     

    Society Gone South.

    Boy Scouts Cave…Again

    Not so long ago, I saw an announcement that said BSA would now allow girls who are under the misguided assumption that they are boys to join Boy Scouts. I used to support the Boy Scouts. In fact, I was a leader of both a Troop and a Venture Crew. My last year of volunteering came when they caved on “gay” scouts. I still would buy popcorn from the local troop, but I couldn’t bring myself to be an active participant in the decay of a once laudable organization. That time has passed.

    I was involved when the first battle was being waged. There were other things happening at the time as well. Money and membership had been going down for years. When the proverbial shit hit the fan and donations by large corporations were threatened, BSA did everything they could to save those funds, including throwing their organizations principles under the bus.

    Some in the leadership had tried a couple years before to get the BSA to change their stance on “gay” scouts and leaders, but it failed miserably because they tried to make too many changes at once.

    So, they backed off, split the issue of “gay” scouts from “gay” leaders and couched it in terms of “you’re evil for wanting to kick out boys who discover they’re gay.” Notice the wording choice. They didn’t say you want to keep out homosexual activists bent on destroying the BSA. No. It was “kick out.” Of course, the majority didn’t want to see boys who had been in scouts their entire life be kicked out just because of something that was beyond their control. It was an easily killed straw man.

    After “gay” scouts were accepted in 2013, the hard liners had left for other organizations that held the principles that BSA had once espoused. In 2015, “gay” leaders were accepted and now in 2017, “transgender” scouts.

    Each year, the enrollment numbers have been dropping. Rather than sticking to its principles, BSA elected to commit suicide by caving to those who want to see traditional morals destroyed.

    The attack on the BSA and eventual caving is a symptom of the wider culture. Long gone are the days of convincing people to change through logic and reason. Today, anyone who dissents from the left’s view of right and good is to be figuratively beaten into submission or eliminated entirely. And they will use any means necessary, including lying, cheating and stealing.

    We’ve seen it time and again. Chic-fil-a, Firefox, photographers, cake bakers, gamergate, Hugo Awards, Bram Stoker Awards and the latest – – Milo. No one is safe from the attacks. It doesn’t matter if you’re left, right or center, you will be vilified if you even suggest that anyone be allowed to hold any opinions other than the leftist line.

    Those who want to tear apart every institution that stands on moral or religious principles have been advancing and destroying those institutions. Gradually at first, but once they realized that people would cow to their demands, they became more forceful. They began winning the war, because good men chose not to fight.

    That is starting to change. People are starting, however small, to fight back. Trump’s win was a hard shock for the left who thought that they had cowed everyone into submission. (Okay, it was a shock to everyone, but the left felt it the hardest.) Little by little the ground lost can be recovered as long as people continue to fight back.

     

    Please check out Dawn’s new book! (I already ordered my copy).

     

    It is year 63 of the New Era. Nacerma has rid itself of societies ills – homelessness, hunger, suffering and religious differences – becoming a country of peace. Seventeen-year-old, Aadi seeks something deeper than the life Nacerma offers. When her former lover, turned priest, asks her to risk her life for her faith, she accepts the meaningful quest.
    Mischa Truin is wanted by the Guard and needs to get out of town for awhile. When he’s asked to keep his best friend, Aadi, safe, he jumps at the chance. Together, their faith and friendship are tested as they face thieves, highwaymen, the Red Guard and their own inner demons as their feelings for one another are revealed. Will their friendship survive the quest? Will they?
    Dawn Witzke is a freelance writer, graphic artist and master level procrastinator. She can be found over at her blog, Books & Art, where she randomly posts artwork, book reviews and writing.

     


  • Today’s Counterculture and the New Civil War ~ Progressives will and must Lose

    Being a part of today’s Counterculture is different. Unlike the countercultural movement of the 1960s, today’s movement is part of the cold civil war going on in America.

    Have no doubts: We are in the the throes of war. The American Left has declared war on those of us who do not subscribe to their progressive ideology, and those of us who elected Donald Trump as president are going to fight back at all costs. Part of the fight lies with the new counterculture.

     

    So far, this war is cold. Whether or not it goes hot is the choice of the progressives.

    For some clarity on the new counterculture and the cold civil war, please read the following post, “We can’t spare this man; he fights“, by CLFA admin.

     

     

    War is barely recognizable these days. Soldiers are killed without a drop of blood. Entire invasions occur without a single shot fired. Colonization is established with governmental assistance by the targeted nation, and we haven’t executed a traitor since 1953.

    But make no mistake; this is a war. If we lose this one, our way of life will be lost forever and our children enslaved.

    and:

    Which brings us back to what the war looks like today: It is bloodless. We can bear all the arms we want, but there will be no way to shoot a regulation, or a curriculum, or a boycott, or a social media lynching, or a helpless 5-year-old child colonist.

    We should be grateful that this war is bloodless; our own children have food and healthy parents at home. Most of us will keep our jobs. Daily life is not disrupted. It is the most comfortable war in history. But it is still a war.

    Has there ever been a war where good people didn’t resort to doing things that would be considered despicable under any other circumstances? Who bayonets a loudmouthed entertainer in day-to-day life? Who guns down someone who posted a political comment? Who launches missiles on “sanctuary cities”?

    Thank God, we don’t have to do those things. But we must not forget that this is still a war and if we don’t fight it as such, it will already be too late before we have the opportunity to do those other things.

     

    The above has to do with the political assassination of Milo Yiannopoulos. Full disclosure: I agree with CLFA’s entire post. They told the truth, and most people who are politically aware and not of the Left agree that we are now in a struggle for our way of life.

    And there will be no surrender. We who write books and stories that counter the freedom-sucking culture the Left has foisted upon us will never stop fighting.

     

     

    The only thing not mentioned in the CLFA piece is the dread we feel when our countercultural writer’s minds are overcome with thoughts of this war turning hot.

     

    So, we are in an ideological struggle with people who hate us and everything we stand for. But that doesn’t mean they’re going to win.

    Though progressives have managed to divide this country, they are no longer able to fool anyone except themselves.

    With the advent of the internet, social media, alternative media and other 21st Century technology, people have caught onto their scam.

    After years of scandals by the Obama administration were covered up by the mainstream media, we watched as CNN tried to rig a presidential debate by giving the questions to Hillary Clinton.

    We saw the Wikileaks Podesta emails and then found other sources than the mainstream media for facts, because they showed themselves to be nothing more than an army of bloodletting mercenaries masquerading as journalists. And they work for the Democrats.

    Still, it was rough going as we endured fake polls put out by all the usual suspects in an attempt to gaslight us into believing that Clinton had the election in the bag.

    And even though we were assured by all the “best” people that we didn’t have a chance in hell of winning, we marched our deplorable butts to the polls and voted for Donald Trump.

     

    Our votes were against Progressivism. We voted NO to creeping socialism. We rejected the Left and their religion.

    And our prayers were answered on November 8 with Trump’s election as President.

    After the election It became even more apparent that the Left was under the impression that America and everyone in it should kowtow to them “just because.”

    But in their zealous attempt to grab back the power they had lost, they really jumped the shark.

    Their hateful, violent and nasty protests and riots, their calls for recounts, their attempts to intimidate electors, their screams of “popular vote!” and every other trick they tried to overthrow the Democratic process were on display for the entire world.

    And no one but their most cult-like followers likes what they see. Especially younger Americans who don’t want to be told how to think. They saw all of the above, too.

    These are young Americans we’re talking about. Eighteen to twenty-five years old. 

     

    The Leftists have forgotten something. Something rather important. And that is the fact that kids have a tendency to rebel.

    Everyone who has ever been a child or raised a child is aware of this. Some kids rebel in small ways and others in big ways, but I don’t believe any teen on earth hasn’t committed acts of rebellion in defiance of their parents, school or in some cases, the system.

    During the counterculture movement of the 1960s, teens and college kids protested the Vietnam war, experimented with everything from weed to hallucinogenic drugs, and immersed themselves in music that reflected the counterculture.

    Boys grew their hair. Girls dressed like hippies. Students went to Woodstock to hear legends like Jimi Hendrix and other up and coming stars of Rock & Roll. They did all of this in defiance of their parents and the system.

    Some of them grew out of their rebellion and went on to become productive members of society. Some became drug addicts that never came out of their rebellion.  And the worst became the fabled “Man.”

    The Man. The man that all those Classic Rock greats wrote protest songs about, and which they themselves have now become.

    And though some of today’s kids no doubt will stay in line and imitate the hatred and intolerance exhibited by their elders, many others will rebel against the puritanical strictures of their own Progressive parents.

     

    There is no way that this won’t happen. No way.

    Because the kids of today are observing the hypocrisy of their parents, the media, Hollywood and the system at large.

    If they have not been brainwashed to the point of no return, they cannot help but notice the many hypocrisies and what seems to be a mass psychosis that has overtaken the American Progressive Left.

    Many kids are fans of Milo, whose recent removal from what the system says is holy is a study in hypocrisy, intolerance, lies and bullying of a victim of childhood rape. Yes… Milo was raped as a young boy. By a priest. He’s also a homosexual. And an immigrant.

    Milo embodies everything the Progressive Left says they protect. Yet they attempted to destroy him for one reason: He differs from them politically.

    It’s the same with all the other people these Leftists have put in their bullying crosshairs. The treatment of Ivanka Trump is another example of their war. Because of the bullying tactics of the Progressive group #grabyourwallet, her clothing line has been removed from a growing list of retailers that caved to the Left.

     

    And while Progressives are too blind to see that they have become the new “Man”, the kids are not. And they are part of the new counterculture.

     

    They see the hypocrisy in every part of the rotten system, and they don’t like it. Some of them are old enough to vote, and they went to the polls and voted against the system.

    Others are pre-teens or high school kids who will rebel against their own parents during the coming years. They have their own minds, you see.

    They can think. They will question what they see happening. They will hear the hatred dripping off the tongues of their teachers, and since thought is not a crime, they can and they will ruminate over what they witness every day while listening to alternative music in their bedrooms.

    They will visit new You Tube personalities. They will hang out on Reddit. They will engage with other rebellious teens in the new counterculture.

    They will hang posters of Pepe in their bedrooms. They will hide Ivanka Trump shoes under their beds the way their parents used to hide joints under the mattress.

    In two years, or fours years or six, they will vote. And they will win the Cold Civil War.

     

    Related Posts:

    The Unhinged Left ~ Immigration Riots

    One Man’s Dystopia is another’s Idea of Fun Times

    Dear Hollywood: Please, for the Love of God, go on Strike

     

     ______________________________________________________________________

     

    Shameless Self Promotion

     

     

     

    Above is a book that shows what could happen if the Progressives win. Take a look.

    It’s only $2.99. 🙂


  • Today’s Democrats: Intolerance, Hatred and Cruelty are the Order of the Day

    Many Democrats have no intention of mending fences with those of us who did not vote for Hillary Clinton.  It’s obvious when we see their intolerance for people who do not subscribe to Leftist ideology.

    It’s running rampant in America. Democrats are teaching their children to hate the President and to shun other children whose parents voted for Donald Trump. Hatred and cruelty are everyday occurrences.

    I’ll start with an example of intolerance and hatred being taught to children by Democrats. Please watch this short video from Facebook:

     

     

    I’m sure I’m not the only person who finds this video disturbing. These Democrat parents are teaching their children to hate President Trump. Note the way the parents scream at the kids to “tear him apart!”

    They smile and cheer as their children rip this effigy disguised as a piñata limb from limb. After the Trump figure is ripped apart, the children are rewarded with candy.

    So, hatred and acts of simulated violence on a figure representing President Trump are rewarded by these Democrat zealots.

    Their children are innocent and are being used as pawns in a dangerous game.

    Now I have no idea how many Liberal Democrat parents are teaching their children to hate the President, (and, by default, anyone who voted for him), but I doubt this kind of incident is rare.

    My opinion comes from seeing young children at the various pussy marches that were held around the nation. Some of these kids were under 5, holding signs with messages of intolerance.

    If anyone believes this irresponsible parenting will end up benefitting the children involved, there’s a big bridge in Brooklyn I could sell you.

    This brings me to this past Sunday, where I ran into my dear friend at Mass.

    The gospel reading was Matthew 5: 38-48.

    38* “You have heard that it was said,x ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’39y But I say to you, offer no resistance to one who is evil. When someone strikes you on [your] right cheek, turn the other one to him as well.40If anyone wants to go to law with you over your tunic, hand him your cloak as well.41Should anyone press you into service for one mile,* go with him for two miles.z42Give to the one who asks of you, and do not turn your back on one who wants to borrow.a

    Love of Enemies.

    43b “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’c44But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you,45that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust.46For if you love those who love you, what recompense will you have? Do not the tax collectors* do the same?47And if you greet your brothers only, what is unusual about that? Do not the pagans do the same?*48So be perfect,* just as your heavenly Father is perfect.d

    One of the most difficult of Christ’s teachings for most people. The priest’s homily suggested that we ask God to help us in forgiving others, to pray for those who have wronged us, and to ask God to rain His blessings down upon them.

    Not an easy thing to do these days. We all have enemies. This is not conjecture.

    After Mass I greeted my friend, whom I met at church 8 years ago. We quickly became close during our work in the parish Pro Life ministry, and also community activism in opposing the Common Core curriculum being implemented at local schools. We are buddies, and she is my greatest friend in our parish. I love her.

    My friend suffered greatly at the hands of Leftist Democrat community agitators in her children’s school system because she refused to sit down and shut up about faulty texts and crappy Leftist ideological novels being taught as literature.

    For more on what happened please click here.

     

    After the hearing which other concerned parents were not permitted to attend, rumors began circulating that “some woman” was trying to ban books. The rumor was heard at the Bayard Taylor Library in Kennett Square. The rumor was also being spread in one of the New Garden polling places on election day, November 4th. People coming into the polling place to vote were told that someone was trying to “ban” books at Kennett High School. All of this talk of “banning” did the trick.

    On the evening of November 10th, my friend Angie went to the school board meeting alone. She had asked me to go with her, and I said no. I had no idea what was going to happen and neither did she. I’m pretty sure Angie’s husband did end up joining her at the meeting before it ended, but I wish I had gone. She could have used a friend.

    The room where the school board met that night was filled with adults and students wearing “We Read Banned Books” buttons. There was quite a large group. Angie told me she was sitting quietly and wondering what the hell was going on, since the vote was to decide whether the book should be kept under age restrictions. A group of about 5-6 kids sat nearby, along with a few parents. Angie decided to ask them why they were at the meeting. Following is the paraphrased conversation:

    Angie: Why are you all here?

    Students: Our teachers asked us to come, because some lady is trying to ban books in our library.

    Angie: Oh no…that’s not what’s going on. I’m the person who’s concerned about the book, but I didn’t ask for it to be banned. I’m just concerned about kids. Some kids may be too young to read what’s in the book, so we should make sure they can be talked to by someone like the counselor.”

    Students: What? You’re the lady?

    Angie: Yes. It’s me, but I don’t want to ban books.

    Students: We didn’t know. We were told by our teachers to come tonight to support the school because someone wanted to ban books. We didn’t know.

     

    Here’s more:

     

    The board whipped things up a bit more before they went on to other business. Following is a quote from board member Rudy Alphonso:

    “I think about the principles that our Founding Fathers laid ground for us (and) all the battles and all the people that have died over our 200-plus years to keep these fundamental freedoms in place and to allow us to have the choice whether or not we want to read something or not read something,” he said in his statement. “Banning this book, to me, would almost be like turning my back on all those hundreds of thousands of American veterans, men and women, who have died to allow us to keep those freedoms and not to have censorship. I see this attempt to ban this book as if we live in Nazi Germany. This is the United States of America. The Statue of Liberty rings for everyone.”

    This man and the other board members must have known that the book wasn’t leaving the school, yet he mentioned Nazi Germany. How unbelievably pathetic.

     

    So you see, Angie is not popular with many Democrats in her community. And now, because she is a Republican committee person for her township, and her neighbors know she supported President Trump, one of her children is being shunned by an “adult” neighbor.

     

     

    Virgin and Child

     

    After Mass on Sunday we went inside the multi-purpose chapel that was recently built at our parish church. Above is a statue that graces the chapel. I don’t know the title of the statue, but as you can see, the Blessed Virgin Mary and her Son are surrounded by children of many races and ethnicities.

    As Angie was relating the incident, we gazed at the statue. Here’s what happened.

    The neighborhood itself shows signs of displeasure with Trump. A mailbox is tied with a black ribbon, and there are other signs of dislike.

    Anyway, Angie related that her son, age 8, was playing in her yard with a neighbor’s child, and the child’s mother called him to come home, and not to play with his friend because “they” are mean people.

    *Note* – I have met the woman in question three times, at various parties at Angie’s house.

    Anyway, Angie’s 8 year old was upset at what was said, as any child would be. Then the following occurred.

    I don’t know if it was directly after the neighbor boy was told to get out of that yard or if it maybe happened later, at the bus stop or some other time, but the little boy approached Angie and said (paraphrase): I want to play here. I don’t think you are mean. But my mom says you are mean people and I can’t play with ___. (Angie’s son).

    Again, she told me this directly after we had listened to a priest speak of forgiving and praying for those who hurt us, while looking at a statue of Christ surrounded by children of differing ethnicities.

    It really was a strange feeling.

    Sigh…

    I would like to know how the Democrat mom in question is any different than a white woman before Civil Rights who taught her children never to speak or play with a black child.

    Or how she is different from a German mother in 1932 teaching her children not to ever associate or play with a Jewish child.

    If anyone can explain the difference, please do so in the comments.

    I myself see no difference.  I have known this little boy for many years. He is a wonderful child with a big heart, yet he is shunned by a woman who used to eat in his home.

    This woman is a Democrat, and seemingly sees no irony in what she did. Democrats pride themselves on being tolerant and loving, yet she was cruel, intolerant and hateful to an 8-year- old boy.

    Again, for any Democrat who might be reading, please help me to understand why this, or the hatred in the above video, is acceptable in America today. I’ll wait.

    My opinion is that these children will grow up to be sad, guilt-ridden individuals, or perhaps hateful bullying thugs like the ones we see beating people and pepper spraying them for wearing a Trump hat.

    And now for my own reflections on the unfortunate fact that the Democrats are practicing intolerance and hatred.

    White Clay Creek, Chester County, PA

     

    Above is a branch of White Clay Creek near my home in Chester County, Pennsylvania. I run here in White Clay Creek Preserve.

    On Sunday afternoon I went running and snapped the above photo. Though not visible in the picture, the park was full of people. It was a beautiful day, and I saw many families walking together with their dogs, and also other runners and some trail bikers.

    As I was running I smiled and said hello to everyone who made eye contact, all the while wondering if they would hate me if they knew I voted for Trump.

    I have had similar experiences over the years while running, but they usually occurred when the park was almost deserted.

    I once got a strange feeling about a man who was walking his dog in the dead of winter while I was running in the bitter cold. I don’t know why, but the man seemed off. I got the feeling he might be out looking to hurt someone.

    He was there on and off whenever I went to a certain trail. Sometimes I saw him in the parking lot and took off down the road so he wouldn’t know which path I planned to take. Other times he was on the road but very close to the trail. He was always wearing a parka with a hood, and walking a little dog.

    When I saw him I was put in mind of the movie The Silence of Lambs. I have no idea why, but I always ran away as fast as I could.

    And then one day I came around a bend in the trail far away from the road. I was all alone in the bitter cold, running in an isolated place. This was 8 years ago.

    As I ran I wondered what to do. I prayed. I didn’t stop or turn around, for whatever reason.  I kept running right toward him, praying.

    And then out of nowhere came a tall, fit man, running directly toward me. He passed me as I was passing the guy with the dog.

    He came along out of the blue. I had never seen him before, and I never saw him again. And that was the last time I ever saw the man with the dog.

    Now you may say I’m imagining things, or I was paranoid, or any number of 21st Century notions. But I believe an Angel passed by at the very moment I need God’s help.

    After that, I began to carry pepper spray while running.

    And on Sunday I ran with my paper spray, smiling at people, half of whom were probably Democrats that might hate me for my beliefs, remembering what the priest had said. Pray for those who hurt you.

    It was surreal. And then I heard the sound of gunfire. People were target shooting off in the distance. The sound carried, and everyone on the trail could hear the shots.

    It went on for the remainder of my run. It was like a balm. I was comforted. Because again, everyone in the park could hear it. If any far Leftists like the ones described above were walking along wondering who voted for who in that park, they were surely put on notice.

    We know many Democrats hate us.They tell us in many ways everyday, in social media comments, in acts of violence at riots, and in their obstruction and slander of Trump and every person he appoints to his cabinet.

    And they know we know. But they also know that as a group we possess the great equalizer.

    Again, it’s comforting to have the protection afforded by the 2nd Amendment.

    The Democrats who teach their children to hate us would do well to teach them about our right to bear arms while they instruct them on shunning, bullying and hating other children. It might be helpful to the children at some point down the road.

     

    Related Posts:

    The Unhinged Left ~ Immigration Riots

    #GetOnGab

     

    Shameless Self Promotional Plug

    Below is a one minute ad for book two in my series. Check it out, and see what you think. A free preview of the Notice is available at the top right. 🙂


  • Tears of Paradox #FreeKindle Giveaway ~ A Success!

    My free book promotion for Tears Of Paradox got over 1700 downloads.

     

    Thank You

     

    This was the best promotion I have ever run, and to everyone who decided to take a chance and download Tears, I’d like to say Thank You!

    For those who open the book on their Kindle someday and decide to give it a try, Thank you, too!

    For all of my friends who tweeted, shared Facebook & Gab posts and helped spread the word, Thank you!

    To vm, blogger at Bookhorde who placed my book in a Valentines Day post, Thank you!

    And finally, to the Conservative Libertarian Fiction Alliance, Thank you! The placement of Paradox in the CLFA February Booknado helped more people find my book.

    I hope readers like the book and the entire series. 🙂

     

    A note for new readers.

    My books are near future dystopias told from the POVs of Catholic/Christian characters. On Amazon they are categorized as Christian Fantasy and Futuristic Christian Fiction in addition to other categories.

    But my books are not what many Christian Fiction readers might be used to. I made it a point to model my characters on what I see and hear every day from my own husband, family, and other working class people. We are devout Catholics, yet my husband is not a saint.

    I have read that much of Christian fiction forbids any use of swear words (even mild ones) and sometimes the characters are not portrayed as gritty sinner types.

    If you downloaded my book and find that it’s not what you thought it would be, I hope you will give it a try anyway. I explain my thought process and the time I spent agonizing over the way I portrayed my male characters in a blogpost I wrote. Click here.

    But back to the question at hand. Should we or shouldn’t we write characters who actually do and say the things we ourselves do and say? My answer is: How could we not? After all, we are following Christ for a reason. We are all sinners. If we weren’t we wouldn’t need Christ. What good would it be to write characters who don’t sin and struggle? After all, if they were perfect they would have much less need of Christ’s light. I’m sure some folks would disagree with me, and of course that is their prerogative, but I must admit that I like a certain amount of true to life grittiness in the fictional books I read. This includes books with Catholic or Christian themes, precisely because such works show the world realistically.

    IMO writing realistic characters can actually be a boon. If Jason had been a choirboy while getting ready to begin serving overseas during the Global War On Terror, it would have seemed fake, fake, fake. He had just left the girl he loved behind and his future was uncertain. Such a man, though a believer and even a sporadic churchgoer, simply wouldn’t have not gotten drunk at least once, and probably many more times. The same goes for Brad, a student of pharmacy in Memphis TN. A product of the times, living in an old dump of a house with a bunch of roommates. Of course Brad sowed wild oats.

    However, during the course of the book, times begin to change. It is made clear in early chapters of Tears Of Paradox that both Brad and Jason were given a moral upbringing in the Catholic Church. Though they did drift away for a time, they found the “world” to be not of their liking. This makes their ultimate return to the Faith and Jason’s treatment of Michelle all the more satisfying. When Brad finally marries he too becomes a changed man, in part because of his faith, even though he doesn’t see it at the time.

     

    monstrance and Blessed Sacrament

    By the middle of the book both men are married to women they love and treasure, and Jason, due to his struggle to cope with circumstances beyond his control, is spending time in Adoration of The Blessed Sacrament.

    Such a transformation — from lady killer to a man relying solely on Christ — would have meant much less if Jason hadn’t been portrayed as a sinner. And in fact, he continues to fall and fail and ask for forgiveness throughout the series. I use the word transformation deliberately. Tears of Paradox and The Notice are part of The Storms of Transformation Series. As usual there is irony, or perhaps paradox, because not only is America being transformed, but the characters are as well.

     

    Above is my outlook on things.

    Again, thank you to all! I’m feeling pretty good today, knowing that 1700 potential readers have a copy of my book on their devices.


    For a sneak peek into book 3, Cadáin’s Watch, check out the book trailer below. 

     

    Now, back to work.

     

    Related Post:

    Patience

     

     

    Check out the free preview of The Notice, above. 🙂


  • #BookReview ~ Amy Lynn 3, The Lady of Castle Dunn by Jack July

    Today I’m reviewing The Lady Of Castle Dunn, book 3 in Jack July‘s Amy Lynn Series.

     

    Read my reviews of books one and two here.

    Today I’m posting reviews of the first two books in Jack July’s Amy Lynn series. The books are unique. Both revolve around  heroine Amy Lynn Braxton, however the stories are quite different. In book one, we meet the child Amy, and follow her through her coming of age. In Golden Angel, Amy has matured, and strikes out on adventures that don’t include her family back home in Black Oak, Alabama.

     

    Before today’s review I’d like to share some reflections on the way Castle Dunn affected me.

    As is the case with many books, this one brought on a deep sadness. This was because the story juxtaposed Amy’s close knit traditional Southern Baptist family–one that reminds me of my grandmother’s family in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina when I was a child–beside the terrible evil that seems to be overtaking the world at large, and in some instances, America itself.

    When reading of Amy’s Alabama family I was wishing for the old days, those that will never return. I understand that the south during the 1960s when I was a child visiting “the Mountain” as we called it,was not idyllic.

    Everyone knows that the South spawned horrible prejudice and discrimination against black people. For this there is no excuse.

    But when I visited my family once a year or so, I saw none of the ugliness. It was just a loving family that did many of the same things Amy’s family does in July’s series.

    Going to church, family dinners, playing with cousins on rope swings, going to Uncle John’s garage–where he lovingly maintained his 1960 Plymouth Galaxy for 40 years–to get a Mountain Dew are what I remember.

    Not to say that it was the best of times for my mountain cousins. My great uncle, who fought in WWII and was a part of DDay, lived in a rather poor home. He had four children and no indoor toilet. They had an outhouse. Indoors they had running water, but no water heater. The family suffered from diabetes. My aunt had her leg amputated and passed a few years later, and two of her sons also died of diabetes.

    Still, I remember those visits fondly. We children had no worries other than those of going home to Pennsylvania and starting another school year where we might not find friends or perhaps get bad grades.

    The childhood innocence that I enjoyed is gone forever. That ship sailed over the past 8 years and it’s never coming back, at least in my lifetime, and possibly that of my grandchildren.

    Nowadays children are exposed to adult subjects beginning in kindergarten, and continuing on through their childhood. It happens from all angles including their teachers, and is detrimental to them because they are too young for such complex subjects.

    But, we can’t go back. Today’s children are growing up in a different era. Some of them, perhaps more than during the time of my childhood, are exploited in horrible unspeakable ways that it hurts to think about.

    Jack July also touches upon this subject in Castle Dunn.

    Following is my Review.

    Sweet Southern girl turned CIA Superhero, Amy Lynn will keep you turning the pages.

    I read the first two Amy Lynn books and both were excellent. Amy’s world ranges from her close-knit family in Black Oak, Alabama to the halls of the CIA.

    Amy’s family is made up of finely crafted characters that can make readers feel the urge to sit on the front porch with them, relaxing with glasses of sweet tea in the heat of a summer afternoon. On the other hand, Amy’s life as an undercover agent who must confront the most horrid of evils is sad beyond belief. It would seem, perhaps, that two such interwoven tales might not mesh very well. But in Amy Lynn’s world, nothing could be more natural.

    This book was is a treasure. Amy takes us from fun episodes of brawling men at a stock car race in Alabama to scenes of darkness that show the evil in certain segments of humanity that have lost their souls if they ever had any to begin with. And throughout the comforting home-life and the dangerous missions a love story unfolds, too.

    Jack July has done it again. I am eagerly awaiting a fourth installment of Amy’s adventures. I hope the wait won’t be too long.

    Above is my system for rating & reviewing books. Castle Dunn met all four of the above, so it earned an easy 5 stars.

    Again, I hope the wait for book four isn’t overlong.

    __________________________________________________________________

     

     

    Jack July is a married father of two living in N/W South Carolina. To find out more about the author, please visit his Amazon author’s page.

     

     

     

     

    Related Posts:

    Book Review ~ Chasing Freedom by Marina Fontaine

    Book Review ~ Shut Up! by Megan Fox and Kevin DuJan

     

     

     

    Check out Book 2 in my Series, above.