I absolutely adore Photographer: Braden Summers images. He captures, beautifully, the love these couples have for one another. Here are a few of my favorite pictures. To view more, click on his name above. Thank you! 🏳️🌈
Survival is still her #1 mission
Sara Gallagher escaped the memories of a painfully shy childhood and her hopeless crush on the boy next door by joining the USAF where Senior Airman Gallagher excelled as a SERE- Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape instructor. But when a training accident leaves Sara scarred and deaf in one ear, she returns home to join the Paladin Group.
Chris Braxton was Peachwood’s golden boy, a rookie major league pitcher, until a drunk driver shattered his shoulder and his dreams. Now entrepreneur Chris’ upscale sporting goods company is negotiating a nationwide expansion. Enroute to a crucial meeting, he overhears the details of a planned felony. When Chris and his family are threatened, he turns to the Paladin Group.
“Stay quiet,” Sara Gallagher whispered across the bedroom to her wide-eyed young client. “Slide under the bed.” In the dim light, she watched the teen roll silently off the far side of the mattress and disappear from sight. Good girl. There was another faint sound outside. Sara crept to the edge of the French door. Drawing her weapon, she pressed her back to the wall. And waited. By climbing onto the condo’s second-story balcony, the stalker was trespassing. Let’s go for B&E. Sara angled her head to the left, straining to hear. The wood casing of the lock creaked. Bingo. Gripping her weapon with both hands, Sara kept the barrel pointed to the ceiling. Heart thundering, she inhaled slow, controlled breaths as the frame cracked, glass shattered. What remained of the door slowly swung open. A booted foot crunched in the glass on the bedroom floor. There we have it—breaking and entering. Sara adjusted her stance. From neck to toes, the intruder was encased in black leather. A black knitted ski mask concealed his head. In one gloved hand, he gripped a metal rod.
Shit. The stalker came armed. Sara curled a finger over the trigger of her Browning. The rest of the intruder’s burly profile eased into the room. “Drop the weapon. Hands up,” Sara shouted. Pivoting, she aimed for his chest. “Drop it now. I will shoot.” The stalker spun around. And took a wild swing with the large crowbar. Sara leapt back. The instant the metal rod cleared her, she yelled, “Stop.” “Bitch…” He growled. “I’ll…” He loomed over her. Gripping the crowbar with both hands, he reared back for another swing. Sara aimed and fired. The 9mm slug tore through the black leather and into the stalker’s shoulder. He let out a wailing scream and dropped the crowbar. It clattered to the hardwood as he staggered back. Grabbing for his bleeding shoulder, the intruder tripped over his own feet. Landed hard on his butt. “Down flat,” Sara snarled. Her fear drained. She was damned angry. Much as the jerk deserved it, she hated shooting anyone. “On your back.” She kicked the crowbar across the floor. “Do it. Or the next bullet goes down your throat.” Eyeing his uninjured legs, she kept a safe distance from his boots. With a mighty groan, the stalker eased back until he was prone. “Police,” a deep voice shouted from the front area of the condo. “Back bedroom,” Sara answered. “I’m armed. Stalker is down and wounded. Needs an EMT.” She raised both her hands. As two uniformed police appeared, she remained frozen in place. Bad idea to be armed and in motion when law enforcement arrived on scene.
“Stay put,” the taller policeman instructed. Then to his partner, “Secure her weapon. And that crowbar.” He radioed for medics. Then he turned to Sara. “What happened here?” “I’m Sara Gallagher, the PI who reported the break-in,” Sara explained, surrendering her Browning. “I’m working with Detective Morgan…” “The detective’s right behind us.” “Excellent. My client is not armed. Ms. Stewart is under the bed.” On cue, the teen peeked over the edge of the duvet. Scrambling to her feet, she took one look at the stalker, the blood, and burst into hysterical tears. “It’s okay,” Sara reassured the sobbing college student. “It’s all over.” The room filled with new arrivals. Another uniformed officer entered from the hall, followed by two EMTs. Her client cried harder. And louder. Sara stepped back to give the paramedics more space, then breathed a silent sigh when the Denver detective assigned to Ms. Stewart’s case appeared. After a quick scan of the room, he met her gaze. “Sergeant Gallagher. You okay?” Shit. The police officer sealing her weapon in an evidence bag and one of the medics looked up at the mention of her former military rank. “I’m fine, Detective. But Miss Stewart—” “This is the guy?” Morgan asked. “Your stalker?” “Yes, I’m certain,” she said with a curt nod. “He climbed to the balcony. Pried open the French door. When he stepped inside, I ordered him to stop. He took a swing at me with the crowbar. After another warning, he kept coming. I had to shoot him.” “Good work, Gallagher.” The detective moved closer to question one of the paramedics working on the stalker. “You’re transporting him?” “Yeah. He’s stable. Going to Denver Hospital Main Campus.” Glancing up, Morgan finally became aware of the distraught teen. “Want a paramedic to look at Miss Stewart?” “Good idea,” Sara said. “Thanks.” The handsome medic managed to quiet the hysterical young woman. But when he suggested Sara’s client go the ER, she intervened. Moving around the bed, she held Lori gently by the elbows and pierced the young woman with a steely look. “Tell the truth,” she whispered. “Are you physically hurt anywhere?” Lori Stewart hiccupped. “No.” “You’ve been very strong, did everything right tonight. Are you positive you need to go to the hospital?” “Maybe not.” Lori shook her head. “That’s a brave woman.” Sara handed her a tissue. “Now blow your nose.” Her spoiled young client had grown up quite a bit over the past week. “Can I talk to Daddy?” “Absolutely. We’ll call now. You can tell him it’s all over. And I’ll tell him what a fantastic job you did.” Sara retrieved her phone and handed it to Lori. “Remember— we still need to go to the station with Detective Morgan, give our statements. He’ll be the one to tell us when you’ll be allowed to go home.”
Lori spoke to her father as the room began to clear. Detective Morgan was on a call of his own when Lori looked up. “Ms. Gallagher? Daddy wants to thank you. And…can we drop you back in Atlanta? The Lear will be here in a couple hours.” Lori handed over the phone. “Well done, Sara,” Mr. Stewart said, his deep voice booming through the cell. Her client’s hard-boiled executive parent was obviously relieved and pleased with the outcome. “I’ll wait to read your version in the final report. Meanwhile, thank you. As if saving my daughter’s life wasn’t enough, it seems you’ve managed to crack that layer of selfish disdain she learned from her aunt.” Sara gave a silent nod. “Lori’s a smart, capable young woman.” The personal danger had helped bring out the young woman’s naturally cooperative nature. “Your example was the best thing for her. I’ll have my people handle the condo and your rental car. May I offer you a lift to Atlanta?” “I’d appreciate a ride home. Can I confirm after I check in with Paladin Group?” “Just call from the police station when you two are finished. I’ll arrange for a car to pick you up there. The corporate jet will be waiting at Denver airport.” “Thank you, sir.” As she disconnected the call, Sara glanced up. Lori had her duffel open on the bed and was tossing clothes into it. “Ms. Gallagher…Sara, could I have a minute?” Detective Morgan asked.
She gave him a nod, and he turned to Lori. “When you’re ready to go, we’ll be in the next room.” He led the way into the second bedroom. Now what? Crossing her arms, Sara faced the detective. He leaned his hip against the dresser. “You were right all along about the stalker.” “Am I going to have trouble with the shooting?” “I’ll have someone from the prosecutor’s office sit in on tonight’s interview. But from where I stand, it looks clear cut.” “Mr. Stewart offered me a lift home on his corporate jet. Will I be free to go?” “Umm, yes. What’s the rush?” He frowned. “I was hoping we could…have dinner tomorrow night?” Sara tried to ignore the familiar tension in her stomach. Why was this handsome man interested in her? Why did he want to take her out? She turned and pulled her suitcase from the closet. As she transferred carefully folded sweaters to her bag, he straightened and stepped closer. Couldn’t they keep things professional? “You’re an amazing woman. I want to get to know you better,” Morgan said.
Still risking their lives…The Paladin Group.
Ginger Odom has sworn to become self-reliant…Until she is arrested in a small town and framed for the murder of a police officer. Seems everyone in the community wants her behind bars, regardless of the truth, so her aunt enlists the help of the Paladin Group. A team of wounded former military men and women, now civilian lawyers and investigators, they rescue people in serious trouble.
Hale Peters is determined to ignore his knee injury…The former Air Force Pararescueman, wounded during a rocket attack on Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan, accepts his first reboot for Paladin. His mission—keep Ginger safe until he can prove her innocence—becomes a bigger challenge than expected when he and Ginger clash over who’s in charge.
The Devil Dogs just want to help…The group of older veterans steps up to assist, but when Ginger’s life is threatened by the real killer, Hale and Ginger need to work together if they hope to stay alive.
BUY BOTH TODAY
CJ MATTHEW grew up in an Air Force family living all over the US and around the world. It proved to be the perfect experience for gathering ideas and material for future books. And for meeting real life heroes and heroines in uniforms and flight-suits. She spent her high school and university years in California, which inspired her love of marine life, and the Pacific Ocean.
As a young girl, she loved books and reading. Arriving at each new duty station, the Colonel’s eldest daughter’s first priority was to locate the base library and befriend the librarians.
As an adult, CJ divided her time between the joys of raising a son and a daughter and a career in medical sales, marketing, and medical practice management. Then in 2007, CJ began her romance novel writing career. Fascinated with vampires and shapeshifters, her first stories form a unique dolphin shapeshifter series based in Santa Barbara, California. According to CJ, a huge attraction to writing paranormal romance is the ability to do serious world-building and to set your own rules. CJ spent the next several years honing her craft, acquiring a literary agent, and continuing to write while the agent pitched the dolphins to NY publishers.
In spring of 2015, CJ gave up on New York. From August to October she self-published the first three of the Dolphin Shore Shifter series. In 2016 she released two additional dolphin books and debuted her romantic suspense series: Paladin Group. The Paladin books are set in a small southern town, and star wounded air force veterans, men and women warriors turned civilian lawyers and investigators determined to continue their rescue work.
In October of 2016, CJ is introducing A Major Seduction, book 1 of the Colonel’s Daughters contemporary romance quintet.
A member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), Georgia Romance Writers (GRW), and Kiss of Death, CJ lives and writes near a lake in the woods northeast of Atlanta. When she isn’t writing or reading romances, CJ spends time with her two grown children, their spouses, a brilliant grandson and a feisty cat named Max.
Schedule permitting, CJ loves to travel, to discover new favorite places as well as meeting new reader/friends in both the US and around the world. Her books have sold in Australia, Canada, Germany, Japan, Spain, and the UK.
Max flatly refuses to travel.
When love drives you crazy…
When sexy Joe Malone never calls after their explosive kiss, Kylieshoves him out of her mind. Until she needs a favor, and it’s a doozy. Something precious to her has been stolen and there’s only one person with unique finder-and-fixer skills that can help—Joe. It means swallowing her pride and somehow trying to avoid the temptation to throttle him—or seduce him.
the best thing to do…
No, Joe didn’t call after the kiss. He’s the fun time guy, not the forever guy. And Kylie, after all she’s been through, deserves a good man who will stay. But everything about Kylie makes it damned hard to focus, and though his brain knows what he has to do, his heart isn’t getting the memo.
…is enjoy the ride.
As Kylie and Joe go on the scavenger hunt of their lives, they discover surprising things about each other. Now, the best way for them to get over “that kiss” might just be to replace it with a hundred more.
**Excerpt courtesy of Jill Shalvis’ Website**
Kylie Masters watched him walk into her shop like he owned it while simultaneously pretending not to notice him. A tricky balancing act that she’d gotten good at. Problem was, like it or not, her attention was caught and captured by the six foot, leanly muscled, scowling guy now standing directly in front of her, hands shoved in his pockets, body language clearly set to Frustrated Male.
She sighed, gave up the ridiculous pretense of being engrossed by her phone, and looked up. She was supposed to smile and ask how she could help him. That’s what they all did when it was their turn to work the front counter at Reclaimed Woods. They were to show potential clients their custom- made goods when what they really wanted was to be in the back workshop making their own individual projects. Kylie’s specialty was dining room sets, which meant she wore a thick apron and goggles to protect herself and was perpetually covered in sawdust.
And she did mean covered in sawdust. Wood flakes dusted her hair and stuck to her exposed arms, and if she’d been wearing any makeup today, they’d have been stuck to her face as well. In short, she was not looking how she wanted to be looking while fac- ing this man again. Not even close. “Joe,” she said in careful greeting.
He gave her a single head nod. Okay, so he wasn’t going to talk first. Fine. She’d be the grown- up today. “What can I do for you?” she asked, fairly certain he wasn’t here to shop for furni- ture. He wasn’t exactly the domesticated type.
Joe ran a hand through his hair so that the military short, dark, silky strands stood straight up. He wore a black T- shirt stretched over broad shoulders, loose over tight abs, untucked over cargos that emphasized his mile- long legs. He was built like the soldier he’d been not too long ago, as if keeping fit was his job— which, given what he did for a living, it absolutely was. He shoved his mirrored sunglasses to the top of his head, revealing ice blue eyes that could be hard as stone when working, but she knew that they could also soften when he was amused, aroused, or having fun. He was none of those three things at the moment.
“I need a birthday present for Molly,” he said. Molly was his sister, and from what Kylie knew of the Malone family, they were close. Everyone knew this and adored the both of them. Kylie herself adored Molly.
She did not adore Joe. “Okay,” she said. “What do you want to get for her?”
“She made me a list.” Joe pulled the list written in Molly’s neat scrawl from one of his many cargo pants pockets.
Bday wishlist: — Puppies. (Yes, plural!) — Shoes. I lurve shoes. Must be as hot as
Elle’s. — $$$ — Concert tickets to Beyoncé. — A release from the crushing inevitability of
death. — The gorgeous wooden inlay mirror made by
“It’s not her birthday for several weeks,” Joe said as Kylie read the list. “But she told me the mirror’s hanging behind the counter, and I didn’t want it to be sold before I could buy it.” His sharp blue eyes searched the wall behind her. “That one,” he said, pointing to an intricately wood- lined mirror that Kylie had indeed made. “She says she fell in love with it. Not all that surprising since your work’s amazing.”
Kylie did her best to keep this from making her glow with pleasure. She and Joe had known each other casually for the year that they’d both been working in this building. Until two nights ago, they’d never done anything but annoy each other. So that he thought of her as amazing was news to her. “I didn’t know you were even aware of my work.”
Instead of answering, his eyes narrowed at the price tag hanging off the mirror, and he let out a low whistle.
“I don’t get to set the prices here,” she said, irritating herself with her defensive tone. She had no idea why she let him drive her so crazy with little to no effort on his part, but she did her best to not examine the reasons for this.
Ever. Joe had been special ops and still had most of his skills, skills he used on his job at an investigation and securities firm upstairs, where he was, for the lack of a better term, a professional finder and fixer. He was a calm and impenetrable badass on the job, and a calm, impenetrable smartass off it. On the worst of days, he made her feel like a seesaw. On the best of days, he made her feel things she liked to shove deep, deep down, because going there with him would be like jumping out of a plane— thrilling, exciting . . . and then certain dismemberment and death.
While she was thinking about this and other things she shouldn’t be thinking, Joe was eyeball- ing the opened box of chocolates on the counter, which a client had brought in earlier. A little card said Help Yourself! and his gaze locked in on the last Bordeaux— her favorite. She’d been saving it asa reward if she made it all day without wanting to strangle anyone.
Mission failed. “It’ll go right to your hips,” she warned.
He met her eyes, his own amused. “You worried about my body, Kylie?”
She used the excuse to look him over. Not exactly a hardship. He was lean, solid muscle. Rumors were that he’d done some MMA fighting right after his service and she believed it. He was perfect and they both knew it. “I didn’t want to mention it,” she said, “but I think you’re starting to get a spare tire.”
“Is that right?” He cocked his head, eyes amused. “A spare tire, huh? Anything else?”
“Welllllll…maybe a little junk in the trunk.” He out- and- out grinned at that, the cocky bastard. “Then maybe we should share the chocolate,” he said and offered the Bordeaux to her, bringing it up to her lips.
Against her better judgment, she took a bite, re- sisting the urge to also sink her teeth into his fingers. With a soft laugh that told her he’d read her mind, he popped the other half into his own mouth and then licked some melted chocolate off his thumb with a suctioning sound that went straight to her nipples, which was super annoying. It was February and blis- tery outside but suddenly she was warm. Very warm. “So,” he said when he’d swallowed. “The mir- ror. I’ll take it.” Reaching into yet another mystery pocket, he pulled out a credit card. “Wrap it up.”
“You can’t have it.”
At this, he studied her with a hint of surprise, like maybe he’d never been told no before in his life.
And hell, looking like he did, he probably hadn’t been.
“Okay,” he said. “I get it. It’s because I never called, right?”
She pushed his hand— and the credit card in it— away. But not before she felt the heat and the easy strength of him, both of which only further annoyed her. “Wrong,” she said. “Not everything’s about you, Joe.”
“True. This is clearly about us,” he said. “And that kiss.”
Oh hell no. He didn’t just bring it up like that, like it was some throwaway event. She pointed to the door. “Get out.”
He just smiled. And didn’t get out. Dammit. She’d grounded herself from thinking about that kiss. That one drunken, very stupid kiss that haunted her dreams and way too many waking moments as well. But it all flooded back to her now, releasing a bunch of stupid endorphins and every- thing. She inhaled a deep breath, locked her knees and her heart, and mentally tossed away the key. “What kiss?”
He gave her a get real look. “Oh, that kiss.” She shrugged nonchalantly as she reached for her water bottle. “I barely remember it.”
“Funny,” he said in a voice of pure sin. “Cuz it rocked my world.”
She choked on her water, coughing and sputtering.
“The mirror’s still not for sale,” she finally managed to wheeze out, wiping her mouth.
I rocked his world? His warm, amused gaze met hers, going smoky and dangerously charismatic. “I could change your mind.”
“On the mirror or the kiss?” she asked before she could stop herself.
“Either. Both.” She had no doubt. “The mirror’s already sold,” she said. “The new owner’s coming for it today.”
The buyer just happened to be Spence Baldwin, who owned the building in which they stood. The Pacific Pier Building, to be exact, one of the oldest in the Cow Hollow District of San Francisco. Since the building housed an eclectic mix of businesses on the first and second floors, and residential apartments on the third and fourth floors, all built around a cobble- stone courtyard with a fountain that had been there back in the days when there’d still been actual cows in Cow Hollow, the entire place went a lot like the song— everyone knew everyone’s name.
In any case, Spence had bought the mirror for his girlfriend, Colbie, not that Kylie was going to tell Joe that. For one thing, Spence and Joe were good friends and Spence might let Joe have the mirror.
And though she didn’t know why, Kylie didn’t want Joe to have it. Okay, so she did know why. Things came easy to Joe. Good looking, exciting job…hell, life came easy to him.
“I’ll commission a new one,” Joe said, still looking unconcerned. “You can make another just like it, right?”
Yes, and normally a commissioned piece would be a thrill. Kylie wasn’t all that established yet and could certainly use the work. But instead of being excited, she felt . . . unsettled. Because if she agreed to the job, there’d be ongoing contact. Conversations. And here was the thing— she didn’t trust him. No, that wasn’t right. She didn’t trust herself with him. I rocked his world? Because he’d sent hers spinning and the truth was, it’d take no effort at all to once again end up glued to him at the lips. “I’m sorry, but maybe you can get Molly…” she eyed the list again ” …puppies.”
And speaking of puppies, just then from the back room came a high- pitched bark. Vinnie was up from his nap. Next came the pitter- patter of paws scram- bling. At the doorway between the shop and the showroom, he skidded to a stop and lifted a paw, poking at the empty air in front of his face.
Not too long ago, her undersized rescue pup had run face- first into a glass door. So now he went through this pantomime routine at every doorway he came to. And she did mean every doorway. Poor Vinnie had PTSD, and she was his emotional support human.
When Vinnie was thoroughly satisfied that there was no hidden glass to run into, he was off and gal- loping again, a dark brown blur skidding around the corner of the counter like a cat on linoleum. He was half French bulldog and half Muppet, and no one hadever told him that he was under a foot tall and twelve pounds soaking wet. He actually thought he was the big man on campus, and he smiled the whole way as he ran straight for Kylie, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, drool dribbling in his wake.
Heart melting, Kylie started to bend to reach for him, but he flew right by her.
Joe had squatted low, hands held out for the dog, who never so much glanced over at Kylie as he took a flying leap into Joe’s waiting arms. Arms that she knew were warm and strong and gave great hugs, dammit.
Man and pup straightened, rubbing faces together for a moment while Kylie did her best not to melt. Like most French bulldogs’, Vinnie’s expression of- ten read glum. She called it his RBF— resting bitch face. But he was actually the opposite of glum, and the mischievous, comical, amiable light in his eyes revealed that.
“Hey little man,” Joe murmured, flashing that killer smile of his at her pup, who was valiantly at- tempting to lick his face off. Joe laughed and the sound caused an answering tug from deep inside Kylie, which was maddening.
She had no idea what was up with her hormones lately, but luckily they weren’t in charge. Her brain was. And her brain wasn’t interested in Joe, excel- lent kisser or not. See, she had a long history with his kind— fast, wild, fun, and . . . dangerous. Not her own personal history, but her mother’s, and she refused to be the apple who fell too close to the tree.
“I’ll pay extra,” Joe said, still loving up on Vinnie to the dog’s utter delight. “To commission a new mirror.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” she said. “I’ve got jobs in front of you, jobs I have to finish on a schedule. A mirror I haven’t yet even started isn’t for sale.”
“Everything’s for sale,” Joe said. And how well she knew it. Shaking her head, she reached beneath the front counter, pulled a miniature tennis ball from her bag, and waved it in front of Vinnie, who began to try to swim through the air to get to the ball.
“Cheater,” Joe chastened mildly, but obligingly set Vinnie down. The dog immediately snorted in excitement and raced to Kylie, quickly going through his entire repertoire of tricks without pause, sitting, offering a paw to shake, lying down, rolling over . . .
“Cute,” Joe said. “Does he fetch?” “Of course.” But truthfully, fetch wasn’t Vinnie’s strong suit. Grunting, farting, or snoring— these were his strong suits. He also often went off the rails with no warning, zooming around a room in a frantic sprint until he started panting and then passed out. But he did not fetch, not that she’d admit it. “Vinnie, fetch,” she said hopefully and tossed the ball a few feet away.
The dog gave a bark of sheer joy and gamely took off, his short bowlegs churning up the distance. But as always, stopping was a problem and he overshot the ball. Overcorrecting to make the sharp turn, he careened right into a wall. He made a strong recovery though and went back for the ball.
Not that he returned it to Kylie. Nope. With the mini– tennis ball barely fitting in his mouth, Vinnie padded quickly into the back, presumably bringing his new treasure to his crate.
“Yeah, he’s great at fetch,” Joe said with a straight face.
“We’re still working on it,” she said just as a man came out from the back, joining them at the counter. Gib was her boss, her friend, and her very long- time crush— though he knew only about the first two since dating her boss had never seemed like a smart idea— not that he’d ever asked her out or anything. He owned Reclaimed Woods and Kylie owed a lot to him. He’d hired her on here when she’d decided to follow in her grandpa’s footsteps and become a woodworker. Gib gave her a chance to make a name for herself. He was a good guy and everything she’d ever wanted in a man— kind, patient, sweet.
In other words, Joe’s polar opposite. “Problem?” Gib asked. “Just trying to make a purchase,” Joe said, nod- ding to the mirror.
Gib looked at Kylie. “Told you it was remarkable.” It was pretty rare for Gib to hand out a compliment, and she felt her chest warm with surprise and pleasure. “Thanks.”
He nodded and squeezed her hand in his, momentarily rendering her incapacitated because…he was touching her. He never touched her. “But the mirror’s not available,” he said to Joe.
“Yeah,” Joe said, although his gaze didn’t leave Kylie’s. “I’m getting that.”
Suddenly there was an odd and unfamiliar beat of tension in the air, one Kylie wasn’t equipped to trans- late. Because her parents were teens when she was born, she’d been primarily raised by her grandpa. She’d learned unusual skills for a little girl, like how to operate a planer and joiner without losing any fingers, and how to place bets at the horse races. She’d also grown up into a quiet introvert, an old soul. She didn’t open up easily and as a result, not once in her entire life had two guys been interested in her at the same time. In fact, for long stretches of time, there’d been zero guys interested.
So to have that bone- melting kiss with Joe still messing with her head and now Gib suddenly show- ing interest after…well, years, she felt like a panicked teenager. A sweaty, panicked teenager. She jabbed a finger toward the back. “I’ve, um…gotta get to work,” she said and bailed like she was twelve years old instead of twenty- eight.
(Note from the author, Elizabeth Gross)
Taylor Swift is not affiliated with the book, Dream Accomplished: A Story of Cancer, A Mother’s Love & Taylor Swift
We are simply a family wanting to say “Thank You”.
For information about Taylor Swift, please visit her website at www.TaylorSwift.com
For Links to more of the good that Taylor Swift does for so many, please click HERE.
**All proceeds are donated to various charities. For the complete list, visit the Dream Accomplished website**
Hello, my name is Elizabeth Gross, author of Dream Accomplished. In 2012 I was diagnosed with a rare cancer. It changed my life. This book chronicles my journey and is my way of saying “Thank You”, to my daughter’s hero, singer, Taylor Swift. Paying forward the kindness shown our family, we donate all profits to fund cancer and invisible illness research and support causes. I’d never written a book before, and didn’t know I was going to write this one, but in hopes my illness journey could be of help to others, ‘Dream Accomplished: A Story of Cancer, A Mother’s Love & Taylor Swift’ just poured from my heart, filling the pages with inspiration, resources, hope, humor, tips, tears & Taylor. Thank you in advance for reading & sharing about ‘Dream Accomplished’.
I sincerely hope it is a help to you or someone you love. -Elizabeth Gross
New Apple E-Book Award for Excellence in Independent Publishing General Non-Fiction 2015
Please Click Wording Above To Learn More.
(review request submitted by the author for an honest critique)
Cancer is a big, scary, ugly word. It creates havoc in your body. It affects your life, job, daily routine, and your family. It can break you down. If you can find a reason to fight, then FIGHT like Elizabeth Gross did. This is your body. Your life. If you give up hope, you’re not the only one affected.
Elizabeth wrote a captivating story about the struggles a person faces when diagnosed with CANCER. Cost, procedures, conflicting diagnoses, specialists, and sometimes-unsympathetic hospital staff are just a few obstacles Elizabeth and her family faced. The frustrations, fears, confusion, and pain would break most people. Depression is not unheard of. However, despite all the uncertainties she faced, Elizabeth and her husband (Marc) had a little girl who needed them….needed a smile.
I don’t know Taylor Swift personally. I know what I see and read about online or through magazines. What I learned through Dream Accomplished is that Taylor is kind, has a generous heart and made a lasting memory for a sweet young girl (Page) and her family. In the darkest of times, she gave them all a reason to smile.
So even though the Gross family’s medical journey is far from over, when they need something happy to focus on, they can remember the time Taylor Swift made a little girl’s dream come true.
Stay positive and never lose hope!
Heart Rating System:
1 (lowest) and 5 (highest)
**All proceeds to donated to various charities. For the complete list, visit the Dream Accomplished website**
Elizabeth Gross is a Wife, Mother, Cancer Battler, Invisible Illness Spoonie, Wildlife Gardener, Guest Blogger, Good News Sharer, Chocoholic, Dream Accomplisher & SwiftieMom. She’s proud to now be able to also add ‘Award-Winning Author’ to this list (Yay!!) Most days you’ll find her singing along to Taylor Swift songs as she types away on her laptop or gardens with her husband, Marc, and their daughter, Page, on their Hudson, Ohio ‘Little Lot’.
This is her first book.
For more information please visit with her at www.lotsoflifeonalittlelot.com
Dragonfly Dreams – Tracy A. Ball
Shattered, Leaf fled to the last place she wanted to be— Ebony Narpole’s world… Ebony Narpole’s arms.
Sex Demon – Cat Cotton
It all started with three simple words: ‘It’s my wife…’. Music to my ears. He had an incubus on his hands and I just so happened to be the top incubus fighter in the business.
Chronicles of Steele: The Vampire – Pauline Creeden
Reaper vs. Mrs. Dracula. Has Raven finally met her match?
Jericho -J.A. Culican
Feared and mysterious, a dragon legend. How did Jericho become the dragon shifter he is today? Check out this exclusive novella showing Jericho’s origin. Jericho is a companion novella to the USA Today Bestselling series Keeper of Dragons by J.A. Culican
A Brush with Death -N.J. Ember Marisol
Pedilla is ensnared in a dangerous world when she crosses paths with a mysterous woman called The Reaper. Warning: Contains violence and mature themes.
Rogue Recruit – Amir Lane
When a powerful witch under observation for government recruitment runs away, the only hope they have of finding him is the siren who named him.
Shifting Snow – Melissa J. Lytton
When a woman who looks just like her shows up in the middle of a major snow storm, Constance confirms what she always knew: something about her life is wrong.
The Pine Barrens -Sara R. Perez
August is just your normal small town butcher. At least he seemed normal until the bodies started showing up around the pine barrens. There may be a reason he lives so far from town.
Fangs and Fairy Dust – Joynell Schultz
After more than eighty years, Ryker finds himself back in Dubuque, hunting down a rogue vampire once again… only this time, the vampire didn’t break his heart.
Hailey’s Shadow – Lori Titus
Can Hailey see the future or is she a murderer?
While yachting off the Florida Keys, Leaf came toward Ebony waving a bottle of sunblock.
“What do you want me to do with that?”
“Eat it. What do you think I want you to do? My back.” She presented him with said back.
While she couldn’t see him, he admired her blue one-piece suit. “You don’t have enough back to do. But, I’ll fix it.” He flicked his finger and her suit became a low cut, Mint-green, two-piece. “Hand me the lotion.”
Leaf gave him the bottle.
He poured a liberal amount into his palm. When he looked up, she was wearing a fire-engine-red, string bikini. “Is that enough back for you?” She scooted onto the bench, directly between his outstretched legs and smiled over her shoulder.
Ebony caught his breath and said, “Careful, Harper. If you push me another round, you’ll be in a thong.”
She moved her hair out of his way. “So will you.”
He looked down to see that she turned his trunks into a pair of mint-green Speedos.
Ebony paid her back by taking his time applying the sunblock. He turned the application into a massage. It was a good excuse to touch her. He wanted to touch her. Narpoles did whatever they wanted.
Leaf knew what he was doing. She punished him by allowing it. Yeah. That will teach him.
Ebony was done rubbing in sunblock long before he was done touching her. Having no other excuse, he decided, he didn’t need any. He pulled Leaf back against him and was instantly invigorated by her warmth, her scent.
Leaf stiffened. He had a six-pack and v-lines.
“Cassenia is a half million miles that way,” he pointed. “We’re all by ourselves in the middle of the ocean. There isn’t even a seagull around to see. Who is going to know, Leaf?” One hand encircled her waist, while the other fingered the bouncy strands of her hair.
Leaf relaxed. She thought about the chest she was lounging against. It felt like it was chiseled from granite. “Nobody. Because this isn’t real.”
She rubbed the muscles in his arm and practically purred. Just because it isn’t real, doesn’t mean it isn’t fun.
Tracy’s family is blended from three distinct cultures. Over the years, she has opened her home to foster children, drug addicts, AIDS victims and anyone who needed an assist. She has an equal number of liberal and conservative friends. She knows people who have committed murder and she knows people who know the Pope.
Which is why she writes sweet stories about tough love.