Friday, October 20, 2017

Delightfully Witchy by Acacia K. Parker




Delightfully Witchy
A Delightfully Witchy Novel
Book One
Acacia K. Parker

Genre: Paranormal Romance /
Action and Adventure

Publisher: Parker Publishing

Date of Publication: 9/14/2017

ISBN: 978-0-9989444-4-9
ASIN: B071SLRNVS

Number of pages: 417
Word Count: 135,000

Cover Artist: Acacia K. Parker

Tagline: Not everyone is good at being a witch.

Book Description:

Looking for true love? Having dreams you need to recall more clearly? How about that pesky curse that just won’t go away? Let Delightfully Witchy Herbal Shop conjure up the perfect charm for you!

Meet Emerson Harper—herbalist, shop owner, witch—exceptional at the first two, not so much on the last. She finds there are perks to living a quiet life, especially when those perks involve Lincoln Summers walking into her shop asking for a rare Stone. Powerful, wealthy, and famous, she finds it hard to resist selling him what he seeks when those dazzling blue eyes of his linger a little too long.

What Lincoln failed to mention, however, is someone evil is looking for the Stone; a witch who now has Emmie in his sights. Luckily, Emmie made more of an impression on the sexy stranger than she realized, and when he comes to her rescue she finds herself suddenly pulled into Lincoln’s world of dark magic and buried secrets.

In the fight to reclaim their lives—and save the world from a deranged witch hell-bent on destruction—Emmie is thrust into a journey of mystery, peril, and self-discovery, only to learn that sometimes . . .

All magic needs is a little push.

Excerpt:

I awoke screaming and scared, feeling like I was locked in that trunk again, bound and unsure of the outcome. I was dazed. I knew I was awake, but it was still hard to tell what was real. I felt the mattress underneath me, and the clothes that smelled of spices and were faintly musky and sweaty. There was a light beside the bed I could turn on to show that I was perfectly safe. None of that mattered, though, because I was frantic, tears falling down my face, trying to get out of the confined space that had me caged in.
Someone was talking to me, calmly and evenly. Whoever it was grabbed my arms and lifted them, moving me so my back was to a chest, clearly not my sister’s. I yanked my arms to get free, but whoever had me was too strong, the voice continuing to speak, telling me I was all right, that I was safe, and there wasn’t anything to be worried about.
“Emmie, it’s just a dream, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Lincoln. It was Lincoln’s voice that finally trickled through, and I realized where I was. He had his arms wrapped around me, holding me still so I wouldn’t hurt myself—or him, for that matter. My head was somewhere near the crook of his neck as I craned it back, looking up at the black ceiling, its endless depths forbidding and ominous. Tears fell, my breathing was labored, and my heart raced. He never moved, even as my legs kicked the blankets away, hating myself for allowing this to happen.
When I finally got myself to calm down, Lincoln turned me and without a word pulled me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around his waist, listening to his heartbeat as it hammered violently in his chest. With his head resting on mine, I barely felt the stubble scratching at my forehead, abrasive but welcome.
“You scared me.” His voice was throaty, like he’d just woken up himself. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” I managed to say, pulling back, noticing the light on the nightstand was on, dim in the darkness. “I’m so, so sorry. That was—”
“Expected . . . considering.” He shrugged, his hand on my shoulder as I wiped the tears off my face.
“I guess it’s a good thing I don’t sleep naked,” I giggled, trying to lighten the mood.
“I think that depends on who you’re asking.” He smirked.
And I blushed, of course. I was feeling all warm and cozy with his hand still on my shoulder and then I noticed he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Good Lord. Trust me, it was everything I ever thought it would be. No, it was definitely better. He was perfect; chiseled chest, washboard abs, thick arms, and a dark line of hair leading from his belly button until it disappeared underneath his pajama pants. I’m pretty sure if I kept looking I was going to start drooling, literally, and that would be . . . just no. 
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing! It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, raising his brows.
“It’s not important,” I answered nervously, biting my lower lip.
“Are you sure?”
“Yep.” I nodded. “I’m sure.”
“Ok.” He squeezed my shoulder lightly.


About the Author:

Acacia has been what some may call a "gypsy" for most of her life. With her father serving in the Air Force for twenty years, she's enjoyed many different homes in many different states, with a decent portion of her life lived overseas in Germany. Always one to be creative, she has been drawing since she could write, and writing has become a passion of hers since her teenage years where she discovered she loved telling stories and creating eccentric characters.

Currently residing in Phoenix, AZ with her husband Shawn and their two golden retrievers, Boomer and Sookie, the duo find any excuse to enjoy the weather (when it's permitted), and you can often find the them scuba diving (their favorite place is the Florida Keys), hiking, visiting one of the many beautiful lakes Arizona has to offer or finding winding, dirt roads to discover. Unfortunately, it's not all fun and games. A good chunk of Acacia's time is taken up to complete her Bachelors in Business Management at Grand Canyon University - although procrastination does ensue.

In her writing adventures, Acacia hopes that one day her stories may inspire others to follow their dreams - no matter how crazy they may seem.







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Thursday, October 19, 2017

Cover Reveal The Renaissance Club by Rachel Dacus




The Renaissance Club
Rachel Dacus

Fiery Seas Publishing

January 16, 2018

Genre: Time Travel Romance

May Gold, college adjunct, often dreams about the subject of her master’s thesis - Gianlorenzo Bernini. In her fantasies she’s in his arms, the wildly adored partner of the man who invented the Baroque.

But in reality, May has just landed in Rome with her teaching colleagues and older boyfriend who is paying her way. She yearns to unleash her passion and creative spirit, and when the floor under the gilded dome of St Peter’s basilica rocks under her feet, she gets her chance. Walking through the veil that appears, she finds herself in the year 1624, staring straight into Bernini’s eyes. Their immediate and powerful attraction grows throughout May’s tour of Italy. And as she continues to meet her ethereal partner, even for brief snatches of time, her creativity and confidence blossom. All the doorways to happiness seem blocked for May-all except the shimmering doorway to Bernini’s world.

May has to choose: stay in her safe but stagnant existence, or take a risk. Will May’s adventure in time ruin her life or lead to a magical new one?

About the Author:

Rachel Dacus is the daughter of a bipolar rocket engineer who blew up a number of missiles during the race-to-space 1950’s. He was also an accomplished painter. Rachel studied at UC Berkeley and has remained in the San Francisco area. Her most recent book, Gods of Water and Air, combines poetry, prose, and a short play on the afterlife of dogs. Other poetry books are Earth Lessons and Femme au Chapeau.

Her interest in Italy was ignited by a course and tour on the Italian Renaissance. She’s been hooked on Italy ever since. Her essay “Venice and the Passion to Nurture” was anthologized in Italy, A Love Story: Women Write About the Italian Experience. When not writing, she raises funds for nonprofit causes and takes walks with her Silky Terrier. She blogs at Rocket Kid Writing.





Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Passing Strange: The Well by P.W. Creighton






Passing Strange: The Well
Passing Strange
Book One
P.W. Creighton

Genre: YA, Mystery-Horror-Suspense

Date of Publication: Sept 2, 2017

ISBN: 978-1522029151
ASIN: B075BJJ1S7

Number of pages: 220 Digital/ 303 Print

Word Count: 54730

Cover Artist: For The Muse Designs

Tagline: Parrish Cove Secrets Run Deep...

Book Description:

For Fourteen-year-old Aidan Reynolds, the archaeological dig at the Parrish Cove historical society is the only thing making the summer interesting.

That is until he meets Maddie, an unusual girl who has just moved to town and is convinced that there is more to the local legends surrounding the historical society than even he knows.  

While Aidan may not believe her, the strange artifacts that are recovered from the dig force them into exploring the dark, twisted history of Parrish Cove and its strange doctor...a man who vanished over a century ago.

Together, they uncover a town secret that has been forgotten for centuries, and discover that there are some things that should stay buried.


Excerpt:

…The officer started us back into the plaza at a rapid walk. His clomping steps on the brick walkway, and the heavy jingling of his belt gave an air of strength. Although Maddie was glued to my side, I could feel her gaining confidence with each step. We were probably running from a dog again.
“Here,” I said, and started us back down the alley past the Custom House.
“Did you see the animal?” The officer asked.
“Yeah,” Maddie responded.
“No,” I corrected with glance at her. “It was fast.”
The officer clicked on his huge flashlight, casting a blinding light down the alley ahead of us. He quickly turned the light down the side alleys as we passed them to check for motion. It only lasted a moment before he swept the back ahead of us over the dumpsters and piles of cardboard lining the alley. The beam was so bright that it was possible to illuminate the brick walls on both sides.
Everything changed the moment we emerged into the park.


About the Author:

Born in California, he has spent most of his life traveling throughout the US. Drawing inspiration from his many adventures, turning that strange reality into fiction.

Over the years, he has found himself in many unusual situations, ranging from hanging off an 80 foot cliff-face in New York, to sailing off the coast of Salem, Massachusetts. He has hosted archaeological excavations, and have even reported from the middle of a police stand-off.

When a teacher asked him in the second grade what he wanted to be when he grew up, he didn't have an answer. To be honest, he still doesn't know. He just lets his characters make that decision.






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Monday, October 16, 2017

Interview Goddess of the Wild Thing by Paul DeBlassie III


1) What inspired you to write books? 

Books are and always have been my thing. My lovely lady, Kate, kindred soul, wife and mother of our four adult children inspired me to move into dramatic fiction. She said, “You can write visionary thrillers loaded with archetypal gusto just like you write psychology except these’ll be even more compelling, captivating, riveting! Kate’s my inspiration.
2) What do you love about writing in general? 
Words are a psychic narcotic, a real high. When I read good indie writers like Tamara Ferguson, Uvi Poznansky, Luna Saint Claire, Rayna Noire, David P. Permutter, and Lorraine Carey my mind is tuned in and turned on. When I write there’s a sense of being transported to another realm filled with mystery, insight, and age-old wisdom. I love it.

3) What advice can you give aspiring Authors in your genre? 

If you feel it do it. Doubts come, fears abound, but inspiration was there from the beginning, so see it through to the end. You felt what you felt, the need to write, so stay true to that feeling and true to your dream.

4) What’s your favorite part of being an author? 

Along with setting dramatic narrative and white-hot words to the page, a story building, fulminating and completing itself I love meeting wonderful readers who write and tell me of their impressions and emotions while immersed in the tales I’ve woven.

5) What is the worst part about being an author? 

There is no worst part. Writing is about being true to what’s in you to do, and there’s no worst part to that. There’s dark times and light times for sure; but the dark and light are the composites of shading and color and texture that take visual form in the art that is storytelling.

6) What do you do for fun? 

I love it when Kate and I hang together, just the two of us, and see movies, go to lunch and dinner, talk long talks, and come home and nestle into each other. That’s a fine, really fine time.

7) How do you find time to write?

I write a little each day. Freud wrote a page a day. That’s a good rule of thumb for me. There’s always time for a page, and one page often leads to another and another and another . . ..

8) What is in your WIP or next book you thought about writing? 

After writing The Unholy and Goddess of the Wild Thing I’ve thought about resting; but the resting is in the living and writing that are an everyday experience. The new book The Goddess of Everything is a hottie  – there’s a woman who thinks she all that and more to boot - can control, cajole, and bag whomever and whatever her nefarious heart desires. It’s a visionary thriller of mother love gone bad and a son’s desire to break free. There’s twist and turns and an unexpected heroine – The Goddess of Everything!

9) Where do you write? 

Right now I’m downstairs on the oak kitchen table. I used to write only in my study. I like varying it up. It keeps the flow going. The study is good, old gothic masters up there whispering in my ear. On the kitchen table is good too. They follow me down the stairs and whisper their words, dark machinations, and eye-popping revelations. I set these to page and they smile.


10) Are you a fulltime author? 

I am a full-time depth psychologist, therapist and writer. It all comes together in the consultation room in treating traumatized patients and on the page where trauma and despair meet the potential for hope and transformation in a rip-roaring visionary thriller.

Goddess of the Wild Thing
Paul DeBlassie III

Genre: Horror , Sci Fi and Fantasy

Book Description:

Goddess of the Wild Thing is a dramatic tale of one woman’s spiritual journey where magical happenings, unexpected turns of fate, and unseen forces influence her ability to love and be loved.

Eve Sanchez, a middle-aged woman and scholar of esoteric studies, encounters a seductive but frightening man who introduces her to a supernatural world in which the wicked powers of a surrogate mother’s twisted affection threaten love and life.

In the mystic realms of Aztlan del Sur, Eve and three friends struggle with whether bad love is better than no love and discover that love is a wild thing.

Excerpt I

Eve sharpened her focus. She saw the sharp nail of a witch’s right finger tracing Graciéla’s image on a foggy mirror in a grungy bathroom, touching the center of the mirror with a hatred so intense, the glass burned red hot. The mirror in Graciéla’s kitchen cracked. Shards jettisoned at the old healer then were magically warded off and drifted in place about her head and neck.
Graciéla’s energy, tired as she was, had fended off the pointed shards. She hadn’t been impaled. But the strain had ushered her from one world to the next. Death came not by the hand of another but by a weakened mind and body defending itself.
Eve, shaken, allowed her soft touch to stay on Graciéla’s forehead, confirming the horror of what she’d seen. Shamanic wisdom, often discussed between the two kindred souls, spoke to Eve as she stroked her friend’s head, remembering that death provided passage for one whose life had been well spent and whose time had come.
Eve wept.

After a few moments, she closed her friend’s green eyes and whispered tenderly, “Always my friend, always love, always together in life and in death.” She stood and wiped the tears from her eyes. A gray-brown, green-eyed, great horned owl hooted from the largest cottonwood branch outside the back window.
Eve heard Shirley finishing her call to the EMTs and police, and then walking to the front of the store to await their arrival.
One large shard lay at the end of the table, sharp tip pointed outward. It reflected Eve’s image, a glowing red ember menacingly centered at the brow point

About the Author:

Paul DeBlassie III, Ph.D. is a depth psychologist and award-winning writer living in his native New Mexico. He specializes in treating individuals in emotional and spiritual crisis. His novels, visionary thrillers, delve deep into archetypal realities as they play out dramatically in the lives of everyday people. Memberships include the Author’s Guild, the Depth Psychology Alliance, the International Association for Relational Psychoanalysis and Psychotherapy, and the International Association for Jungian Studies.





The Night of Elisa by Isis Sousa





The Night of Elisa
Illustrated Gothic Novel
Book One
Isis Sousa

Genre: Gothic, Paranormal, Horror

Publisher: Tragic Books

Date of Publication: February 2016

ISBN: 9781519169945
ISBN: 9781367510418
ASIN: B00LMM3CMI

Number of pages: 220
Word Count: 60k words + illustrations

Cover Artist: Isis Sousa

~ The Corpse Bride meets Penny Dreadful ~

Book Description:

"Sometimes, life and love can follow the most obscure paths, just as they did for Elisa."

Her life becomes a dark, cold, lonely cage the day the devil takes her as his wife. He robs her of almost everything she holds dear: her health, her wealth and what is left of her family.

Trapped between the nuances of life and beyond-life, Elisa finds herself struggling for a better tomorrow. With her health deteriorating, how will she summon the courage and strength to stand her ground? And how far will she go in the pursuit of a dream?

Embark with Elisa on this puzzling Gothic adventure set in the late Victorian era, between the world of the Living and the picturesque, melancholic Duskland.

~~~~~

The Night of Elisa is first and furthermost Victorian Gothic, but can also fit within other genres such as Dark Fantasy, Paranormal, Mystery and Occult.

Parental guidance: for 16+ Contains blood, nudity and dark themes.


Amazon           BN       Book Depository

Indiebound      Alibris      Kobo

Excerpt from Chapter 1

‘Elisa’ woke up slowly on the crimson pillows of the adorned wooden couch. Her vision was blurry and her head was spinning. How is this possible? Her heavy eyes resisted her will to see the world, yet little by little the figure of a gentleman formed, sitting on a chair by her side. He was a tall, slender, slightly athletic type of man, well-dressed and, she could tell, of noble manners. He had pale skin, a sculpted nose and a wide forehead embraced by fiery curls.
“W... where am I? What happened?”
“You are safe in my house.” His voice was calm, poised and sounded somehow familiar. There was a long pause. “I don’t know what happened to you, but hopefully we are going to find out...”
He looked at her intently. She was weak, slightly frightened and her countenance was as delicate as a white rose. Her hair had a mahogany nuance and was curled and tied back. She was dressed in a fine, dark violet dress and boots. Her grey eyes, as beautiful as the sea on a stormy day, were wide open and her voice was pleasant to the ear, like a mermaid’s song.
“I found you hurt in the woods last evening and brought you here. You’ve been mostly asleep since then. I’m glad you woke up.” A slight smile formed on his face as he devoured her neck with his eyes.
‘Elisa’ was reading the large room, looking at the faded colors of the wooden ceiling and walls. The fancy furniture, ornaments and expensive portraits were all covered with a thin layer of dust, but were otherwise in perfect order. The house was as old as everything inside. It had the smell of the past.
In a long moment of complete silence they could hear each other’s breath. Slowly and carefully she sat up in the middle of the couch, without deviating from the stranger’s grim, blue eyes. She looked up at the second floor and spotted a taller figure standing in the darkness. She thought he looked as obscure as a ghost. Who is that strange man watching us? She looked back at Leonhard, who was also staring at the figure.
“What is your name, sir?”
“I’m Leonhard, madame. What is your name?” He turned his gaze back to the fragile and confused lady. When his eyes met hers he almost stopped breathing, as if he had seen the eyes of an angel.
“I can’t remember... I can’t remember anything!” ‘Elisa’ rubbed her eyes, frustrated. “Who is that man upstairs?”
The figure drew closer to the polished handrail. He was a thin man in his mid-fifties, with bits of grey hair and a pale countenance, dressed in a suit jacket. He looked down at her for a second, examining her, and then he walked away hurriedly like the devil escaping from the cross.
“That is Dr. Charles,” Leonhard said, interrupting the moment of silence. “He medicated you when I brought you home. He is... not much used to foreigners. We share this house since neither of us has a family. He will get used to you, I hope.”
‘Elisa’ gave Leonhard a weak smile. She was obviously uncomfortable and becoming more and more impatient. Where am I? What happened to me? Who are these people? I need to find a way to get out of here! She crossed her arms, twisted her lips and looked around the finely arranged living room, thinking a thousand things at once.
Leonhard could hear, feel that her heartbeat was accelerating. He was growing impatient, wondering what sorts of things were passing through her head. Many questions appeared in the corners of his mind too.
Just as he was about to speak, the young lady extended her silky hand to him. She was hesitant but gathered enough courage to look deep into his eyes. 
“Can you take me somewhere open... sir? I just need... some fresh air.”
Leonhard was hesitant. He was sure she needed more rest; after all she had been through since he found her it was hard to believe she felt well now. Dr. Charles, you are amazing! What kind of miraculous drug did you give to her? Leonhard wanted to protect and take care of her, hold her... He felt the urge to reach for her neck. Old habits die hard! Hold yourself, Leonhard! Concerned as he was, he thought some fresh air would indeed do her good, and it was better for him to go and watch out for her.
“Do you want something to eat first?”
“No! Sorry, sir! I have no appetite. Please...” There was a note of desperation in her voice.
“You need to drink some water. It’s important for your health. I will bring a glass for you and then I can show you my garden.”
“Thank you so much for your kindness!” Why do I have the impression that deep inside every kind man there is a fearsome demon? I need to keep calm or I will ruin everything.
Leonhard sensed she was afraid. Perhaps she might run, escape. But escape from what? Does she see me as a threat? He came back from the kitchen with a glass of fresh water.
Once she had finished drinking he put the glass on a nearby sideboard. He took her delicate hand gently under his left arm and they walked slowly, through the main doorway and out into the well-maintained garden. ‘Elisa’ was secretly grateful that the gentleman was helping her walk so she wouldn’t crumble.

The plants had been grown in geometric patterns. The bigger bushes were rounded and the smaller ones were cut flat on the top and sides, forming natural fences alongside the pathways. There were many different flowers, but all were shades of purple, white and crimson. A big fountain stood in the center of the garden and a couple of smaller ones aligned with it towards the garden’s edges. Each of the fountains was topped with a sculpture of a nude dancing angel. There was the smell of grass, flowers and afternoon, and the sunset was glooming on the horizon, as it mostly does in Duskland.




About the Author:

I am an artist, illustrator and graphic designer who writes on my free time. But with all the imagination I have running lose, there came some stories… And there came some books!

I am born and grown up in Brazil, however I live in Mid-Norway with my beloved husband, in a tiny valley surrounded by mountains and with very few neighbours.

When I’m not doing artwork and illustration for clients, I’m doing woodcarving, painting ornaments, painting artworks for myself, and so on. Love Arts, History, Heavy Metal and Dark things.








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Thursday, October 12, 2017

Witch’s Eternal by Bri Clark - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular






Witch’s Eternal
Bri Clark

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Belle Consulting

Date of Publication: October 31,2017

ASIN: B075751BW5

Word Count:  61,000 words

Cover Artist: Cindy Clark

Tagline: She’s the one being to heal his heart, fulfill the prophesy and save us all. But will she.

Book Description:

Aisleen is the last of a rare race of witches. Her essence hangs in the balance as the magical and temporal poisoning of the Blue Death ravages her body.

Lucien Lemoine, the feared and revered leader of the eternals, searches for a cure. Something primal and instinctive drives him to save the little witch even when his people’s future hangs is threatened. 

But when the Goddess finally breaks her decades long silence Lucien learns Aisleen is more than the one who will fulfill the prophesy of his fate and heal his heart. She can save them all.

But after his tragic betrayal, will she?

Ghosts, Portals and Antidepressants: The Time I Didn’t Sleep for 30 Days.

Have you ever done or said something that you knew you would regret? Yeah we all have. But I did it on a level of stupidity that garners national level gold member status.

There is a lesson I have put together personally, antidepressants suppress my abilities as a medium. They may do the same for you or your intuitive abilities. It’s not surprising is it. It’s our brains, right? And at one point those little pills saved my sanity.

When I moved back to Tennessee in 2015 I suffered a major crisis of identity. I left a religion I’d been a part of for almost fifteen years. I left a town that was so big I could network with likeminded entrepreneurs for 20-40 hours a week if I wanted all within a couple miles of my house. My oldest children moved out. And I started having dangerous health problems.

At that time I did a lot of soul searching and personal reflection. What I found was I had a lot of gifts that I’d used all through my life. They just had different titles as my religion and growth changed. But at the end of the day the truth for me was a I was a medium, a psychic medium. I gave people advice and received ideas and little promptings that went beyond what would be conceived “normal.”

After coming to this place of understanding I sat on my porch off a little highway in rural Tennessee so empowered by my revelation and so starved for identity I told the universe to essentially,

 “Bring it on! I Could take it!”

Almost immediately a sense of dread and oh shit hit me like a ton of bricks. Well at least I knew my alarm system was in well order.

That was the first night over 30 days I didn’t sleep for more than 2 hours a night.  Every day and all night I kept hearing spirits. In my head, I’d hear their voices. In sleep I’d relive their deaths. In the day I felt constantly surrounded. Over time what started out as 1-5 spirits quickly became 50-100. I was so overwhelmed it was all I could do to function and run my family and my business.
If you can’t already tell I think I’m a badass. And when you act like that it’s hard to ask for help.

I smudged. I salted. I blessed. I did everything you can imagine to take my space back. And it would work, for a while. The problem was I hadn’t figured out the source of the water faucet of activity I had turned on.

I slept in the living room with the TV on. I could not sleep in my bedroom. At one point I got on medication. They prescribed me Zoloft and Ambien and Trazadone to sleep. Even with this combination of drugs I was only getting 1-2 hours rest a night. One time in a desperate bid for sleep I did a couple shots of Vodka with Ambien. I slept 2 hours exactly. I do not suggest doing that.

Over time the Zoloft kicked in and my level of anxiety diminished. It was like with sleep came clarity. One day I sat down surrounded by burning sage and white candles and I walked my entire house in my mind. What I learned was I had a big ass portal in my master closet.

So no matter how many times I smudged, blessed or salted if I didn’t close that door way they would continue to come through. Just a big ole afterlife networking event at Bri’s house. While I do love to host a part this was bullshit.

With the help of my friend, a Kinetic Witch named Linna, I was able to close the portal. You need ceremony to close portals. Since I was without any ideas I defaulted to her. It worked. But I stayed on the meds.

Now 2 years later, off the meds, I find myself in a 116 year old farmhouse with a portal in my hallway, 2 daughters with their own gifts, and a ghost named Thomas who says I need to do a better job of cleaning house.

And guess what, I sleep at night.

What’s the difference? I accepted my gifts first of all. Then I went out and got a coach. This woman changed my life and showed me how to manage all my talents and utilize them for good. Which also enabled me to help my daughters as well.

The adage is true. If you ever want to develop, maintain, or control a skill hire a coach.


Disclaimer: This is not a dig at people with mental illness. This is not a post to use to diagnose yourself or anyone else in anyway. This was just my own story in an attempt to be of service. And what perfect time of year than Halloween to offer a little service concerning the dead.

About the Author:

Bri Clark is a real example of redemption and renewal. Growing penniless in the South, Bri learned street smarts while caring for her brother in a broken home. She watched her mother work several jobs to care for their small family. Once her brother could fend for himself, Bri moved on to a series of bad choices including leaving school and living on her own.

Rebelliousness was a strong understatement to describe those formative years. As a teenager, her wakeup call came from a fight with brass knuckles and a judge that gave her a choice of shaping up or spending time in jail. She took that opportunity and found a way to moved up from the streets. She ended up co-owning an extremely successful construction business. She lived the high life until the real estate crash when she lost everything.

She moved west and found herself living with her husband and 4 kids in a 900 square foot apartment. For 10 years she filled her time, writing, blogging, advocating and mentoring women in business, and running a successful marketing company while sharing her southern culture. Her unique background gives her writing a raw sensibility. She understands what it takes to overcome life's obstacles.

Then in 2015 she came home to her beloved TN. While there she picked back up her spiritual gifts of an intuitive psychic medium. With the help of her guides it's her greatest goal to be a vessel for good and to serve those that need help either through her writings or her books.




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