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#SundaySnippet 9.29.19 It’s A Trust Thing

Honestly, what other book was I gonna put up here today?? Hee hee.

So, IT’S A TRUST THING releases, as you know, on 11.1.19. Nell Newbery had an idyllic childhood up until the age of 16, when her father was arrested, tried, and convicted of running a pyramid scheme for people who had invested with him. Life as she knew it changed forever the moment he was taken away in handcuffs from their apartment.

Nell has lived her life since then out of the pubic eye, despite the hordes of journalists and paparazzi who follow her, dying to get a sound bit or  a compromising position photograph. She’s cut off all contact with her felonious father and hasn’t visited him once while he’s been incarcerated. But he’s been begging her to visit him of late. The 15th anniversary of the date he was imprisoned is looming and Nell thinks he wants to involve her in a plan to garner him early release. Since she won’t speak to him, her dad emails her. This little snippet is just one of the messages that Nell has been deleting as they arrive. I think her anger shines through in this scene.

That done, I finally checked my in-box. Much of my day-today operations were conducted electronically through email, direct message, and via my website. Some days, if I was busy with something, I’d have dozens of notifications to contend with before I knew it. Staying ahead of the mail was an important facet in keeping my day moving smoothly and my stomach unknotted.

As I opened the application and waited for the messages to load onto my screen, I sipped at the bottled water I’d gotten with lunch. A quick eye stroll down the list of waiting-to-be-read notices and the water suddenly choked at the back of my throat.

No. Just…no.

I checked the return web address, blinked, then checked it again.

It couldn’t be; it had been over a year since I’d heard anything.

One more check. Yup. It was. The return address was from a government-dot-org account.

My father had sent me an email.

Why?

Or more importantly, what did he want, because surely this wasn’t a hi, how are you doing, missive. My father wasn’t wired that way. Every email was usually a request to do something for him.

Speak in his favor at an upcoming parole hearing.

I didn’t.

Write a letter to the Governor asking for clemency or to have his sentence reduced.

I refused.

Get together with his lawyers to discuss how they could finagle him a new trial, claiming the government had railroaded him.

I never bothered to call them.

My father, I’d finally come to realize when I was in college, was a user. Out for himself and himself alone. He’d never asked once about my mother – his wife – when he emailed me. Not once in all these years. Since she’d fallen apart after his arrest and subsequent incarceration, he figured she wasn’t useful to him any longer.

The bastard.

The woman had stood by him, valiantly, bravely, believing in him until the verdict was handed down, and even after that. By virtue of their marriage, though, her reputation was ruined, a side effect of loving the man and sticking by him. All her friends had turned their backs on her. The philanthropic committees and boards she’d sat on removed her from their ranks. Even her family disowned her, blaming her for marrying a man who would bring ridicule and shame upon their good name.

Suffice it to say when they’d disowned her, it had filtered down to include me, the Devil’s spawn. The difference between my mother and I was I didn’t care that her family had rejected me because of who my father was. My mother did, though. She was devastated when everyone she loved turned on her. So much so, she’d disassociated from the world and wound up committed. It was grossly unfair. Her husband was the criminal, not her. The only crime she’d committed was in loving and trusting the man.

I hadn’t seen nor spoken to my father since the day he was escorted out of a federal courtroom to begin his sentence.

He’d gotten my email address from one of his lawyers. Thankfully, none of them had my private cell number and I didn’t have a personal landline so they couldn’t reach out to me. My calls at the office were screened by the receptionist I shared with Ella and Danny, and I avoided them whenever they called.

This missive now staring at me was the first time in over a year he’d made contact.

He knew the anniversary of his imprisonment was a time the media dredged the whole sordid affair up again, vomiting all the details to the public. For the tenth anniversary a cable news magazine had dedicated a one-hour program to it titled, When Greed Ruled the World. My father probably thought now was a good time to strike with another request for early release, or some other legal maneuver. Since his name was going to be publicly front and center again, why not try to garner some sympathy; some empathy for himself? I did a quick calculation and came up with his age: sixty-eight. He’d claim to be an old man, repentant in his ways.

What a crock.

Any measure of daughterly affection or familial obligation died when he’d tossed my mother aside.

She was the one who had my loyalty and love. For her, I’d go to bat and do anything to make her life easier.

My father? Yeah, not so much.

My finger hit the delete key.

Intrigued? I hope so. Remember, you can preorder it now, here; It’s a Trust Thing. Or, if you subscribe to KU, you can download it on 11.1.19.

Looking for me? I’m here:

Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me// Triber// BookMe // Monkey me //Watch me

Until next time ~ Peg

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Why #IndependentBookstores are so near and dear to my heart….

I’ve talked a lot on this blog about how much I love the Independent bookstore I have in my town, THE TOADSTOOL BOOKSHOP.

The managers are so welcoming and supportive of local authors and arrange booksignings, author meet and greets, and fun events for the entire community, in addition to stocking local indie author books ( something the big name book retailers do not!)

This year, when I heard about Independent Bookstore Romance Day,  on August 17, 2019, I called The Toadstool in Keene and asked if they were doing anything to celebrate the event. At the time, they weren’t, mainly because they didn’t know,  but once I informed them about the celebratory day, the managers went into hyperdrive to plan something to commemorate the day. I shunted some of my favorite local romance authors their way, and before I could say #iloveromance, an event was up and running.

See? This is why I love the TOADSTOOL so much!

So, come join me and four other fabulous romance writers on Saturday, August 17, 2019 at 4pm at the Toadstool Bookshop in Keene!

You can checkout the authors who’ll be featured at the event on their Amazon profile pages, here:

Angie Moran

Cheri Allen

Clair Brett

Amber Cross

Peggy Jaeger

I really hope I see a bunch of romance readers I know – and even more I haven’t met yet! – at the event. The Toadstool will be selling our books during and after the panel discussion, so click on the links above to see the books available. All of my print books are currently on sale at the Toadstool, but for the e-print only ones, you can find them here: 3 Wishes, Hope’s Dream, A Holiday PromiseFalling for You, and Be My Hero

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#longandShortReviewsWednesdayBloggingChallenge 7.24.19

This is one of my favorite topics so far from the L&SR Weekly blogging challenge: My favorite quotes from books.

In no particular order:

1. BOOK: New York to Dallas, JD Robb, 2011

In a scene close to the last page of the book, Lt. Eve Dallas is being treated for multiple wounds she received from a serial killer. She is high on the pain killers and speaking to the doctor attending her. (Roarke is her husband).

Eve: “Is my faced messed up? I hate when that happens. Not like I’m pretty or anything, but–”

“You’re the most beautiful woman ever born,” Roarke said from the doorway, and Eve sent him a woozy, drugged smile.

2. BOOK: Peter Pan,  JM Barre “For to have faith is to have wings.”

3. BOOK: LITTLE WOMEN, Louisa May Alcott “I am not afraid of storms for I am learning how to sail my own ship.”

4. BOOK: TWILIGHT, Stephanie Meyer Edward tells Bella: “You are my life now.”

5. THE GODFATHER, Mario Puzo. “Leave the gun. Take the cannolis.”

6. THE GODFATHER, Mario Puzo “A fish rots from the head down.”

Let’s see what some of the other authors in this challenge have to say; L&SR

And don’t forget: DIRTY DAMSELS is available now on KU and here:

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2XmMfBn
Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/2JkOZpA
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2XcgTZS
Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2xnWg2x

from a book reviewer: “Best romance I’ve read this year, hands down.” I glow every time I read that!

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You can take the girl out of the city….

but apparently you can never take the city out of the girl.

I arrived yesterday in NYC from sweet home New Hampshire, and the heat slapped me silly the moment I stepped out of Grand Central Station. The Hotel this year is only about 3 avenues and 2 blocks from GCS so, ever the money conscious chick, and knowing this burg like I know the back of my hand –  having spent my youth as a citizen of these fine streets – I hoofed it from the train to the hotel.

In the heat.

At midday.

In the busiest city in the world.

Lugging my suitcase behind me.

Yeah…didn’t think that one thru all the way, did I?

Got here ( sweating like a working farm animal) and THANK YOU JESUS my room was ready because if they told me it wasn’t, it wasn’t gonna be a pretty sight.

My room is big enough to house 4 people comfortably and no, I’m not offering any space to anyone, so get that outta your heads asap.

DOn’t have much of view by daylight

But night time is pretty cool, with the lights of 42nd street lit…

Oh, and that heat that was apparent when I arrived? About 5 pm tonight severe weather loomed in, enough so that a storm hazard warning blared on my phone. Torrential rain for 2 hours. Flash flood warning. Whipping winds.

Felt like home….

Until next time ~ Peg

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June Is #weddingMonth on #RomanceGems

This month, The Romance Gems are celebrating weddings. All weddings! There’s even a rafflecopter with great prizes attached to it, one of which is my first “wedding” romance, DEARLY BELOVED (A Match made in Heaven, bk1). Now, please enter the contest!!! I’m not the only one with a prize to give away. The other authors participating are giving away some exceptional books and prizes.

And even if you enter the contest, please remember that DEARLY BELOVED is on sale until 6.21.19 at Amazon, Nook, and iBooks for just #99cents. That’s a great price to start your summer TBR reading list!

So, go ahead and enter the ROMANCE GEMS contest, and drop by daily to read the fabulous blogs our authors write!! There’s always something fun going on with us and we lovelovelove to share! Hee Hee

Until next time ~ Peg

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A little #bookteaser from Dirty Damsels

 

 

So, last Monday I gave you a few book graphic teasers for my July 2 book release from Limitless, DIRTY DAMSELS. I’m doing a complete cover reveal next Monday, June 24, so make sure you set your calendar reminders!

Today, I want to give you a little sumthin’ sumthin’ between my hero and heroine. The blurb is now official, so I’m gonna include that here, as well.  Just fyi – this little snippet is unedited, so you may see some repeating words. Don’t worry; the final version rocks!

Enjoy….

Blurb:   All is fair in business…and love.

When I first saw Cynderella all covered in soot in that sexy maid uniform, I knew I wanted to be her Prince.

She’s a smart and savvy businesswoman who’s built her cleaning company from the ground up. But now that Dirty Damsels was booming, I’ve been hired to arrange a hostile takeover.

But the temptation of having her was too much to ignore…

We ended up spending one night together—a night neither of us will forget. Now, I want more. I need more. I want to spend every night, skin-on-skin, with my beautiful Ella.

Problem is, when she finds out who I really am, she’ll never forgive me.  

Excerpt:

He was massive. At least six-three with shoulders so wide they actually blocked my view of the room behind him. Jet-black, military close cropped hair surrounded a face constructed of sharp angles and etched planes. His jaw was formed from concrete, hard and square and hinting at a little cleft deep in the middle. Thick eyebrows the same color as the hair framed two of the greenest eyes I’d ever seen. They mimicked jade crystals, freshly mined and polished. I would’ve bet actual cash his light gray suit was tailor-made because it hugged the width of his shoulders with sartorial precision and tapered down to a trim waist.

All this ran through my mind as I devised a plan to escape from him to avoid being attacked. I held the plastic dustpan and brush against my body, two pitifully ineffective weapons should I need them against this potential ax murderer.

Okay, I’m pretty sure ax murderers don’t wear Armani to their kills, but still.

His brows pulled together and he was motioning with his hands. When he pointed to his ears I got it. I yanked out the earbuds and let them fall down to my waist.

“Can you hear me now?”

Before nodding, I let the sound of his voice wash over me. It was deep, rich and warm, like a glass of perfectly aged, room temperature, Irish whiskey on a chilly night. In a heartbeat I realized a girl would be happy to do whatever that voice asked her to.

“I tried to get your attention.” He dropped his hands into his pants pockets-exceptionally well fitted pants, by the way. “Then I realized you couldn’t hear me when I saw you swaying back and forth. I’m sorry I scared you.”

I found my voice. “How did you get in? I know I locked the door behind me.”

“You did. But Cal left a key for me with the doorman. I didn’t expect anybody to be here.”

“Your Cal’s guest?”

The smile working its way across his angular face had the same effect on me as his voice. To call it charming would have been an understatement. His lips moved with a slow, purposeful amble from the middle of his bowed upper lip, down across his thick bottom one to finish in a deep dimple on each of his cheeks. Perfect teeth lived under those sexy, full lips. On a girl they’d be described as pouty. On him they were completely and utterly masculine. And devastating. Just as a girl would do anything the voice asked, she’d also give anything for a taste of those lips.

“Buddy,” he told me. “And you are?”

“The cleaning service,” I said hastily. “I thought I had enough time to get the whole place done before you arrived. You’re way early.”

“I hopped on an earlier flight. And don’t be sorry.” His smile changed into a boyish grin. “I enjoyed the show.”

For a second I didn’t know he meant. Then it hit me.

He must’ve seen the realization in my eyes and the embarrassment I know heated my face and neck, because his smile widened and grew a tad wicked, crinkling the corners of his gorgeous eyes. “That was a pretty impressive rendition of the Thick song.”

I’ve never been the kind of girl who can be teased and be comfortable with it. Probably because the evil bitch and her twin spawns of terror teased and chided me mercilessly during my adolescence. My face grew even hotter as my discomfort danced within me. I usually have a pithy comment handy to pull out of my back pocket to shoot down anyone I perceive is making fun of me. It’s an old and trusted defense mechanism I’ve tried to curb for years, but haven’t succeeded at. For some reason, though, I couldn’t think of a response. A little niggle in the back of my mind reminded me he was the guest of a client. A high paying client. A client I didn’t want to lose or annoy. Maybe my subconscious was working for me for once instead of against as it forced me to keep quiet.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He moved closer, while he pulled something from his pocket. Before I realized what he meant to do, he cupped my chin in his hand and placed a handkerchief against my cheek, giving it a little rub. This close I could see the dark rim of deep moss surrounding the brighter color of the jade in his eyes. Eyes that never left mine. I couldn’t blink or look away. Don’t ask me why, but for the first time I understood what the saying “like a deer caught in the headlights” meant.

The skin across his fingers was rough where he held my chin prisoner, but his actual touch was disarmingly gentle. His warm breath blew across my face as he wiped something away, inspected the area and, then, pulled his gaze back to mine. His eyes were heavily hooded and so damn hot a tiny tug yanked low in my belly and then pushed its way down lower. Much lower. His eyelashes were long and thick and jealousy stabbed through me. No amount of mascara or lash plumping product would ever make my skimpy, spikey little lash hairs look like his natural ones.

“Ashes,” he said, folding the handkerchief and then sliding it back in his pants pocket.

I bit back a whimper when he let go of my face.

Intrigued? I’ll be posting the pre-order links soon. Remember to check back next Monday to see what the official cover looks like. And just as a reminder, here are a few of the teasers I made:

I can’t wait to share Ella’s story with  you all!

Until next time ~ Peg

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Filed under Dirty Damsels, Dot Com Girls Romance, Limitless Publishing, Romance

In a world of #followers I’d like to be an #Influencer

I’m going to bet if you know what the above icon is, you’ll understand the title of this blog.

First, a little backstory.

When I was a kid, roughly 175 years ago, my third grade teacher, Mrs. Karen Sinclair, said something to me one day that has stayed with me all these millennia later. I was an overweight, thick glasses-wearing, curly haired, shy kid prone to impulse control issues when it came to talking in class. I was bullied – horribly – by both girls and boys. At that age, there really is no division along sex lines with bullying. One day, after an especially verbally vicious attach on the recess playground, I came back into the classroom, sullen and non-communicative. When class ended for the day, Mrs. Sinclair asked me to stay after. She wormed out of me what had been said on the playground. When I cried that all I wanted to do was fit in, be like everyone else, but couldn’t because 1. my clothes were wrong, 2. my hair was wrong, 3. I was ugly, 4. I was fat…etc…. (you get the picture) she took my hand and told me this: “Don’t be a follower.  Don’t be like everyone else. You were born to be a leader, Margaret, to be yourself. There’s only one you. Don’t settle for less.”

Yeah, she was my favorite teacher of all time.

Fast forward 165 years to the present.

The above symbol is the INSTAGRAM logo. Since I started my writing journey, I’ve been attempting to get people to read my books through various marketing methods, one of them, posting on Instagram. Recently, I came across a phase that “called” to me: Influencer. Apparently, there are people (millennials, mostly) who have huge Insta-followers and who get paid for taking pictures of themselves with products. The companies who manufacture the products, pay these kids  for simply posting a picture. People see the picture and are Influenced to buy the product because they want to be like the cool person they are following.

Can you spell BRILLIANT!!

I have a decent amount of Instagram followers and I’m gonna work on getting more, but for now, here’s me at my new job, taking a picture with a product I’d like to tell people about so they can buy it and be cool like me. I’m an Influencer:

Hee hee

Sorry the book is backward – this whole Influencer thing is gonna take time to perfect. 🙂 But  you get the idea.

~until next time ~ Peg

And just FYI: The book’s on sale for 99cents right now until june 21~~ Get yours here:

DEARLY BELOVED

Amazon

Nook

Apple books

 

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Filed under Author Branding, Dearly Beloved, Romance, Romance Books, Strong Women, WIld Rose Press AUthor, Writing

November is here – that means #NANOWRIMO time!

November 1st is a mere two days away and the month kinda snuck up on me this year. I’ve been so busy with all my upcoming releases this month and next, I haven’t done any NANOWRIMO prep yet.

Now, I know you’re thinking that NANOWRIMO is supposed to be a spontaneous writing exercise, where you sit down every day in November and simply write – no editing, no going over what you have written, no correcting any mistakes. Just a month of free-writing your newest book. And it is, just that, for the most part. But I’ve typically done some kind of prep for the month either in planning out where I want the story to ultimately end up, or at least making a Pinterest board of what I think my characters look like so I have a handy and quick visual reference if I need it. And I’m a plotter by nature. This writing-by-the-seat-of-your-pants thing is so…not me.

But this year, as I’ve said…no prep, no plot, no plan.

I’m starting out fresh when I sit down on 11.1.18 to begin writing my 50,000 word minimum. Every year for the past 5 years I’ve done NANOWRIMO and I’ve actually gone on to have all those books traditionally published, so that’s the hope for this year as well. I’m being truthful when I tell you I’m a little nervous about this.

Nervous? Hell, let’s be totally honest: I’m friggin’ terrified!

Stay tuned. We’ll see what happens…

And if you’re doing NANOWRIMO this year and need a writing “buddy,” I’ll help. Add me to you Buddy List. I’m listed under Margaret-Mary Jaeger.

When I’m not obsessing over NANOWRIMO or out doing the publicity tours for my new releases, you’ll find me wiling away the hours here:  Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me//Google+Me// Triber// BookMe // Monkey me //Watch me

 

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#preorder available for DEARLY BELOVED, bk 1 in A Match Made in Heaven

I’m over the moon because preorders are now available for DEARLY BELOVED, book 1 in a MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN.

Colleen O’Dowd manages a thriving bridal business with her sisters in Heaven, New Hampshire. After fleeing Manhattan and her cheating ex-fiancé, Colleen still believes in happily ever afters. But with a demanding business to run, her sisters to look after, and their 93-year-old grandmother to keep out of trouble, she’s worried she’ll never find Mr. Right.

Playboy Slade Harrington doesn’t believe in marriage. His father’s six weddings have taught him life is better as an unencumbered single guy. But Slade loves his little sister. He’ll do anything for her, including footing the bill for her dream wedding. He doesn’t plan on losing his heart to a smart-mouthed, gorgeous wedding planner, though.

When her ex-fiancé comes back into the picture, Colleen must choose between Mr. Right and Mr. Right Now.

Here are the links: – these are for ebooks only right now. As soon as I have the print order form I’ll post it!

Amazon // The WIld Rose Press // Barnes and Nobel

And because I’m such a nerd when it comes to things that are my book related, here are my Pinterest Board links for the O’Dowds so you can get a feel for how I picture the characters and the town of Heaven, NH

Maureen’s Aprons

Izzy’s Shower

Nanny Fee

O’dowd family and town

Sunday Snippets 

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Filed under A Match Made in Heaven, Alpha Male, Author, Contemporary Romance, Dearly Beloved, Family Saga, love, New Hampshire, Romance, Romance Books, Strong Women, WIld Rose Press AUthor

What do you mean I can’t read that book?!

I’ve been writing a great deal about books recently since the Great American Read has started broadcasting on PBS. I actually gave a real voice to the title of this post when I was a teenager. I’d gone to my local library and asked for a copy of Lady Chatterly’s Lover, a book I’d heard about in an advanced English class and was told the library didn’t have a copy because the book was, currently, on the banned list.

This wasn’t the 1950’s  McCarthy era, folks. This was 1977.

Until this time I never even knew a book COULD be banned from public libraries or from being sold in  commercial book stores. Since this was decades before the Internet made everything sellable ( banned or not, legal or not) I had no recourse and wasn’t able to read the book until I got to college and it was part of another advanced english course as required reading. My college, apparently,  had no problem selling it to its students in the college bookstore. In all honesty, when I finally did read it, I didn’t see what the big deal had been about. If the powers who be banned the book in an effort to try and  protect teenagers  from reading about and then having sex by not allowing them to read about mutual and consenting sex, they were doing a piss-poor job, because I’d already read a much passed around copy of The Happy Hooker as a freshman in middle school. Every kid in my class had thumbed through it- some had even underlined a few passages. As far as I know, no one who read the book grew up to become a  prostitute or had sex with an animal. That whole “letting kids have access to books like that gives them leeway to have sex” is just stupid in my opinion. Again, this was the 1970’s. We didn’t have access to internet porn; R rated  movies were enforced, and cigarettes came with warning and age labels. I wasn’t even allowed to purchase a COSMO magazine until I was 18 and could show proof of age.

Things are different now, aren’t they? Not better, just….different.

Back to the banned books, the topic of this little conversation, one sided though it is.

Censorship is a concept I have a great deal of trouble with. As an American, but more as a writer. Freedom is very precious to me – in all aspects of the word. The dictionary defines censorship thus: the suppression or prohibition of any parts of books, films, news, etc. that are considered obscene, politically unacceptable, or a threat to security.

Now, I get the threat to security argument. There is no way the general public should have – in my opinion – access to classified documents where the publishing of such could endanger lives or the security of this nation or anyone in it. That’s a given for me. No argument on my side.

But that’s were my opposition to censorship ends.

The mutual exchange of information is what makes us an elevated species. We think. We have ideas. We share those ideas with likeminded – and not likeminded – individuals via speech, in the media, and yes, in books. As far as I know, human beings are the only species on the planet with a written language. And a beautiful written language, at that. Words mean things. Words form things, like philosophies, goals, opinions, theories, conclusions. The exchange of ideas is a freedom  we have in this country, where in other countries it can be used as the reason for imprisonment or a death penalty.

To censor someone’s thoughts, feelings, and ideas from being written and shared with others because a collective body of elected officials deems them obscene, politically unacceptable or against the norm is not the definition of freedom of speech by any measure. This freedom’s a biggie, folks. It’s defined in the bedrock of our Constitution.

Again, this is just my opinion and no one has to agree with it or me. But I do have the right – morally, legally, ethically, and spiritually, to state it, write it, and share it. That’s what being an American means.

I’ll get off the proverbial soapbox now.

This past week, the American Booksellers Association celebrated their annual Banned Books Week by posting 10 of the most challenged and banned books of the year.

This is the list and you can read about the books yourself. I was very surprised at several of those that made this list.

In the past, other books that are now considered part of our great American collective and which were banned included: A Light in the Attic, Forever, by Judy Blume, Cujo by Stephen King, The Catcher in the Rye, and even something as wonderful as Charlotte’s Web was banned because reading about the death of Charlotte was considered to be too emotionally harmful and upsetting to children. The idiots that made who call completely missed the entire premise of the book.

I don’t pretend to know everything there is to know about censorship, and I’m sure the individuals who make and try to enforce the tactic think they are doing a service. Obviously, those individuals are not writers because if there is one thing I know – and know without a shadow of a doubt – writers are writers because they have stories to tell that will uplift some, enable others to lift themselves,, entertain the masses, and provoke thought and actions in others. Writers write for the joy of writing, for the happiness it brings them and others.  And in this country one of our basic tenants is the pursuit of three things one of which is happiness.

Off the soap box now and off to exercise my freedom to write.

Yu can find me here: Tweet Me//Read Me// Visit Me//Picture Me//Pin Me//Friend Me//Google+Me// Triber// BookMe

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