
Author. Time Traveler. Psychic Sleuth. Embraces the Woo-Woo.

Love wasn’t part of their agreement. Neither was being caught in a brutal web of lies.
International playboy and owner of a jewelry empire that spreads across three continents, Dmitry Rostoff holds a memory close to this heart that not even his best friend Vlad Albrecht knows. When Dmitry learns the Russian ballerina, he had a passionate affair with died in childbirth, bitterness and hate overrule all other emotions.
Taking the baby out of Russia is an impossible snarl of red tape, but Dmitry gets his way, even if he leaves a trail of chaos in his wake.
Natasha Sokolova planned to turn over the baby to Dmitry then walk away. Instead, she is on a plane to San Francisco with the baby and a cold, emotionless man who makes her heart pound with scorching attraction.
The family matriarch and evil to her core Elizabeth Rostoff plots to gain control of the baby, no matter what it costs or who it hurts, and will do anything to make that happen. She blackmails Marie Dubois, the manager of their elite Paris store, to seduce Dmitry. But Marie reneges on the deal when former Special Forces officer Vlad Albrecht storms into her life.
Once in America, Natasha finds herself entangled in a sticky web
of lies created by the brutally calculating family matriarch. A web that forces
Natasha to make a heartbreaking deal with the devil to protect the children—and
man—she’s come to love.
AMAZON BUY LINK and OTHER SUPPLIERS
Stella May is the penname for Marina Sardarova who has a fascinating history you should read on her website.Stella writes fantasy romance as well as time travel romance. She is the author of 'Till Time Do Us Part, Book 1 in her Upon a Time series, and the stand-alone book Rhapsody in Dreams. Love and family are two cornerstones of her stories and life. Stella’s books are available in e-book and paperback through all major vendors.
Putting words and stories on paper is second nature to co-authors C.D. Hersh. They've written separately since they were teenagers and discovered their unique, collaborative abilities in the mid-90s. As high school sweethearts and husband and wife, Catherine and Donald believe in true love and happily ever after, and that’s why they write romance. So do zombies exist? The people of
Haiti certainly think so. Here they are considered to be more than spooky
stories, but rather very real entities. Stories of zombies persist in Haiti
right up to the modern day, with sightings of the poor, haggard creatures
fairly common in many rural areas. In fact, cases are so prevalent that there
have been wild estimates claiming that there are as many as up to one thousand
new cases of zombies a year. Wow, that’s a lot of the undead roaming around a
small island! Zombification is even a crime under the Haitian Penal Code
(Article 246), in which it is considered to be on par with murder despite the
fact that the zombified individual is technically still alive.
Bet you’re dying to know how to make
a zombie? Read on…
Once the family of the victim
pronounces the victim dead, he or she is buried in the family tomb (usually
above ground), where the responsible bokor will steal the body from its grave
and set about reanimating it through dark sorcery. Next, the bokor performs an
ancient Voodoo rite where he or she captures the victim’s ti bon ange (the part of the soul connected to an individual)
within seven days following the death of corps
cadaver, while it is still hovering over the corpse. This effects a split
in the spiritual parts of the victim and produces two complementary types of
zombies: the spirit zombie and the zombie of the flesh. The bokor then traps
the spirit zombie in a small clay jar or container, and replaces it with the
loa (Voodoo spirit) that the bokor controls. The container is hidden in a
secret place and is wrapped in a piece of the victim’s clothing or some other
personal possession.
There seems reason to believe from
work and research done in the past that there may possibly be a concrete, scientific
basis for stories of zombies, so perhaps time will tell. For now, these
mysterious creatures lurk along the fringes of Haitian villages and our
imaginations. Whether drug addled slaves or corpses reanimated through dark
sorcery, the enigma of real zombies beckons us. Perhaps one day we will bring
them out into the light and have the answers we seek.
With that, I’ll leave you with this line in the song Thriller, by Michael Jackson: It’s close to midnight! Something evil’s lurking in the dark! Hopefully, it’s not a blood-thirsty corpse. Stay safe this Halloween, my zombie-loving readers!
Eighty-two percent of Americans form an
opinion about someone after viewing the contents of their refrigerator. I guess
that means folks are routinely sneaking a peek in the fridge, which, in and of
itself, is a little creepy.
Still, when I read the statistic, I just
couldn’t help myself. I bounded – in my mind I bound – off to the kitchen and
opened the door to see what the stuff in my refrigerator might have to say
about me.
There’s an awful lot jammed on those shelves –
some things, quite frankly, I’m not sure I want to look at too closely – so I
decided to list the foods that jumped out at me, figuratively speaking, of
course.
Fifteen containers of mustard, all used at
some point and lining a door rack, stood out. Now I’m not a complete wack job.
They are different kinds of mustard: honey, spicy brown, sweet hot pepper,
Coney Island hotdog, roasted garlic, and Jack Daniels horseradish, to name a
few.
I did a little research and found an article titled “What your
favorite condiment reveals about your personality.” (In case you think I made
this up, here’s the link: https://www.dressings-sauces.org/what-your-favorite-condiment-reveals-about-your-personality.)
“Mustard usage is strongest among consumers
age 35 to 64 and is also favored by those who consider themselves ambitious,
self-disciplined and family-oriented,” the article said. “Mustard lovers also
rate themselves as more shy than any other condiment-favoring group.”
All of that worked for me, accept the bashful
part. Shyness is simply not incorporated into my DNA.
Also in my refrigerator, just above the
mustard, were fourteen bottles of hot sauce. (Perhaps I’m a hoarder. I’ll have
to revisit this possibility.) Again, all containers had been previously opened.
They included Chipotle Tabasco, West Indian Hot Sauce, Brimstone Caribbean Red,
Orange Pulp Habanero, and Big Black Dick’s Hot Cayman Islands Rum Sauce. (It’s
a real thing, so stop snickering.)
Who craves hot sauce?
“If you are a man aged 18-34 living in the
south or west, you probably prefer hot sauce to all other condiment sauces,”
the above-mentioned article said. “You likely. . . are a competitive
risk-taker. . .(and are) more happy, ambitious, spontaneous and risk-loving
than other condiment users.”
While I’m a woman and the age bracket is wrong
– I’m 62, but I’m pretty sure I look much younger – the rest is spot on.
Elsewhere in the fridge there are two crisper
drawers, ostensibly for fruits and vegetables. And one does, in fact, house a
large array of colorful healthy foods. However, the other drawer is filled with
. . . chocolate: dark and milk, chips and cookies and my favorite toffee and
caramel and nut confections. Wee Snickers bars peek from the clear plastic
edges of the drawer. Multiple varieties of those chocolate slabs Trader Joe’s
elves place by the checkout counter rest, half eaten, in a pile. That drawer is
stuffed to the brim with sweet things, as if, perhaps, my unconscious mind is
prepping for the zombie apocalypse.
“A sweet tooth has been shown to be linked to a willingness to help people out, but chocolate lovers are also emotionally vulnerable,” said another online article. “They’re charming, flirtatious and may even have a penchant for drama.”
While the rest of the fridge was filled with the usual stuff – eggs and bacon and milk, myriad cheeses – I love cheese! – yogurt and containers of things that should have been pitched long ago – it was the wine I focused on. There are always a few bottles chilling, as well as others in racks around the house. (Think the aforementioned zombie apocalypse here. One must be prepared.)
So, what does all this say about me? I haven’t
a clue. Unfortunately, the statistic did not come with an answer key, which
might have proved useful. So, I considered what mustard, hot sauce, chocolate,
and wine all have in common. What did I come up with? They’re all pretty much indestructible.
Really. Have you ever seen mold on mustard, hot sauce, chocolate, or wine? No!
of course not. They have the half-life of plutonium. Proof: I visited the
Cayman Islands nine years ago, which is when I acquired my Big Black Dick hot
sauce. And it’s still perfectly fine.
What this all says about me remains elusive. Perhaps you’ll have to come over, sneak a peek in the fridge, and tell me what you think.
Please allow me to give you a brief intro to my latest women's fiction novel for your reading pleasure.
In 1939, archeologists uncovered a tomb at the Northern Arizona site called Ridge Ruin. The man, bedecked in fine turquoise jewelry and intricate bead work, was surrounded by wooden swords with handles carved into animal hooves and human hands. The Hopi workers stepped back from the grave, knowing what the Moochiwimi sticks meant. This man, buried nine hundred years earlier, was a magician.
Former television journalist Kate Butler hangs on to her investigative reporting career by writing freelance magazine articles. Her research on The Magician shows he bore some European facial characteristics and physical qualities that made him different from the people who buried him. Her quest to discover The Magician’s origin carries her back to a time when the high desert world was shattered by the birth of a volcano and into the present-day dangers of archeological looting where black market sales of antiquities can lead to murder.
Former television journalist Kate Butler hangs on to her investigative reporting career by writing freelance magazine articles. Her research on The Magician shows he bore some European facial characteristics and physical qualities that made him different from the people who buried him. Her quest to discover The Magician’s origin carries her back to a time when the high desert world was shattered by the birth of a volcano and into the present-day dangers of archaeological looting where black market sales of antiquities can lead to murder.