The Broken And The Foolish Now On Kindle & In PaperBack!

Some outlaws kill for the rush. Mary just wants to survive.

The Broken & The Foolish front cover - web

Get your Kindle copy for only $5.99 here.

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From The Mind of One Individualist

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Highly creative people are (In order to remain somewhat mentally stable and to be free to create things at will) the ultimate individualists.
Community is suitable (And necessary) for most people, but collectivism isn’t very forgiving of those who prefer to take life at their own pace. Some people march to their own beat. And that’s okay. It should be okay.
Politically, I believe in collectivism in the sense that everyone should have equal rights, free access to health care, good education, safety, and a means to make a living for themselves. Personally, though, I’m an individualist to the core.
We need both sets of views to have a well-functioning society. Neither system is all good or all bad in and of itself. Different people need different things to thrive. I happen to need more independence and alone time than most people in order to feel functional and alive.
“Individualism is thus also associated with artistic and bohemian interests and lifestyles where there is a tendency towards self-creation and experimentation as opposed to tradition or popular mass opinions and behaviors as so also with humanist philosophical positions and ethics.”
Individualist people aren’t selfish. I identify as an individualist for my own personal life & it’s the way I’ve found best to maintain my mental health. I need an extraordinary amount of alone time, and there have been times when living in a community household where I felt myself literally going insane due to the constant interactions with other people. There is little respect for lone walks or quiet mornings in a house full of social people & that lifestyle is the direct opposite of what makes me happy.
Even sharing a house with a landlord can prove frustrating when I’m off to start my day and go be free and she wants to have a short chit chat over tea. Some people would find that very kind, but I don’t want that in my life. It hinders me and stresses me out, because first, they’re putting me in a position to turn down their offer when I already made it clear that I’m off to go start the day, and second, they often ask me why I’m in “such a hurry.”
I’m never in a hurry. I simply want to be on my way with no interruptions. Life can be unpredictable, but my home must be peaceful and free of any form of control.
Now, I’m not saying that I don’t like the feel of a community. I don’t want isolation. I like helping people, but I have my own way of going about it. I like friendship, but the times we see each other are more spaced out.
I enjoy writing at cafes and exploring the city streets and enjoying a conversation with other intellectuals or sharing kind words with a friendly merchant. On the other hand, all of these interactions are at arms’ length. I am more of an observer than an interactive person.
I like going on adventures alone. I like waking up alone. I like walking alone and commuting alone.
It gives me peace. It makes me feel happy to be alive.
I also enjoy sharing a meal with close friends and family. It’s wonderful to have the people in my life that I do. I love them and I love their company.
But on a daily basis, I need my own space, my own beat, with no set schedule and no one relying on me to be anywhere on time (Aside from my job, of course, which gives me the independence to be an individual).
You see, this is how I stay sane so that I can allow my imagination to soar. When my imagination soars, I can write more. Writing more produces more books. Writing books is my favourite thing in life to do. See the connection.
And so, yes, I am an individualist.
Leave me be.
Let me be free.
Allow me to be me.

Sally – Prologue

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Prologue

Missouri, 1882

Jeremy ran for the pastel pink horizon, longing to fall into the sky. She loved pink and he deserved to drown in it.

“I killed her.”

He killed her slowly over the last several years.

They found her little body floating in the shallow end of the water over an hour ago. She left her rifle, pink hair ribbon, and Stetson hat on the river bank with a short note for him.

I am sorry, Jeremy. Now we can both be free.

Sally

Panting from the sprint, he stopped and collapsed on the field. He became one with the dying grass.

Before their parents pushed them to be together, before he ruined her life, she was the happiest girl in their village. Her easy laugh and bouncy gait made everyone love her, but he fell in love with her much later. After it was already too late.

He had allowed his pearl to sink to the bottom of the abyss and now she would never return. She was freed from him at last.

The reality of her death sent another terrible ripple through his core. Grief stabbed at him like a knife and he longed for death to take him, too.

“Jeremy!”

Groaning, Jeremy sat up. He was unwilling to meet the eyes of Gabriel, his best friend.

“Leave me alone.”

“Jeremy, please listen to me! She’s alive. Barely, but she’s breathing.”

Jeremy stumbled to his feet and ran back toward the house, unwilling to believe what he had just heard. When he reached her side, he knelt next to the bed and peered down at her pale, heart-shaped face. Her long, damp hair covered the pillow. She looked like an angel, even in death.

“I love you, Sally,” he said. “Please come back to me.”

Her eyelids fluttered open and he met her beautiful green eyes. He buried his face into the bed and wept.

Her cool hand touched his.

“You need to kill them, Jeremy,” she whispered.

He wiped his eyes and held her hand with both of his. Her gaze was hard and distant as she stared right through him.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Everything we have done will be in vain if you don’t finish them.”

A solitary tear slipped down her cheek as she faintly squeezed his hand. Then, the darkness took her away again.

 

 

 

 

Book Review: When The Black Roses Grow

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When The Black Roses Grow By Angela Christina Archer

Twenty-five men and women were accused.
Nineteen hung to their death on Gallow Hills.
One suffocated under bone-crushing stones.
All believed to possess the power of witchcraft.

In 1692 the fear of witchcraft is spreading around Salem Village. While those who are accused and sentenced face death, everyone else faces the risk of accusations placed upon them.
***

I was drawn in to Emmalyn’s world from the very first page as she grieves for her mother who was tried and hanged as a witch. 1692 Salem is a dark place where many women are accused and sentenced to death as witches, but Emmalyn does her best to stay strong and live out her life in peace. There is so much danger looming and virtually every woman in Salem worries that she might be the next accused witch.
When a mysterious vine starts to grow in her home, she fears for her life as the dark magic is evidence that she is a witch. When James, a handsome stranger comes to town, he both excites and worries Emmalyn. He hides a world of secrets behind his piercing blue eyes.
Author Angela Archer weaves a beautiful tale of loss, love, trust, and the darkness that humanity can sometimes force upon others. I enjoyed protagonist Emmalyn’s authenticity and strength through the entire book. The tension and drama builds with every passing chapter.
I was not prepared for the epic twist at the ending! You will not want to miss what happens in this beautifully written historical tale.
Historical romance and fantasy fans alike will enjoy Where The Black Roses Grow.

You can purchase When The Black Roses Grow on Amazon here!