Baby Nerves; Chapter 1

13 September 2019

Hello everyone,

 

Well, we’re here. The month of our baby’s due date has finally arrived. I am so terrified and excited all at once. I plan to not use an epidural during childbirth, and I hope and pray that the delivery process goes as smoothly and as quickly as possible. We are as ready as we possibly can be, and the nursery has been thoroughly decorated. The only two beings in my life I have yet to surprise are my two cats, Lefty & Felix. I can only pray that the adjustment for them will go smoothly and really well – I’m even hoping that maybe they’ll “help out” or want to be best buddies with the baby.

 

For all you moms out there, do you have any interesting and unique childbirth stories? I’d love to read them! Please comment below 🙂

 

Until then, please enjoy the first chapter of “Time & Tide”:

 

One

Two months later

“I can’t believe he actually asked you out!” twenty-two year old Madison Brooks squealed with delight, glancing at her light blue-colored cell phone sitting between the driver’s and middle seat of her bright yellow VW Bug. She shook her dark, honey blond, long hair as she hit the left turn signal to pass the motorcyclist in front of her.

Madison’s best friend since second grade, Nicole Donovan’s happy laugh came over the speakerphone. “Ha! I know. But what else can I say? I guess those looks we’d cast each other in the college library finally paid off.”

“Bravo.” Madison shook her head as she turned back into the right lane of the four-lane highway. Hills and hills of countryside passed her by. She was just leaving Seattle, at the very edge of Washington State after shopping for a present for her cousin’s bridal shower coming up in a week. “You are one brave girl. But be careful, Nicole. You know as well as I do how co-worker relationships can turn from a blossoming to a dud relationship in mere weeks.”

“That was different. When you worked at the computer store last year, that was different, Maddie. He was a dud, while Jake is so cool! So awesome, I just want to spend forever with him. You know what he told me? He told me that he’d liked me for six months! He didn’t even get hired at the library until seven months ago!”

“You were so lucky to find that job.” Madison laughed, and then smiled at the small town approaching, just sixty miles out of Seattle. “Okay, hon, you know what? I’m finally at Lincoln. I’d better go, but I promise I’ll call you tonight.”

“I have that family reunion thing tonight, sweetie,” Nicole added, and laughed again. She was obviously just so excited about her upcoming date with her co-worker. “But how about I call you ASAP, and then we’ll go have a whipped cream mocha together?”

“Sounds great. Have a great date tomorrow, if I don’t hear from you, then,” Madison called, and sped down her car, reaching the town just yards ahead of her.

“Oh, I will! Bye!” There was a clicking of the phone.

But not a minute after Nicole had hung up, there was a loud bang from behind her, along with a sharp jerk of Madison’s car.

She gasped in time to see, through her rearview mirror, the motorcyclist she’d just passed sprawled in the ditch.

Thankful no other cars were surrounding her to go into town, Madison slowed down immediately, and parked her car on the side of the road a few yards from the man. After calling for an ambulance, she hurried out of her sedan, and ran to the man lying in the ditch. The legs were crossed in a non-normal way, and he was very still. His mortocycle looked crushed from nearby, but she didn’t care about that.

“Oh, my goodness!” Madison madly prayed that the good Lord would help this poor guy. She reached the man’s side, and then felt for a pulse. She silently cheered when she felt a very steady one. “Sir, are you all right?” she called loudly, wondering how he could’ve barely hit the back of her car, yet look so still. “Sir, please. Can you hear me?”

She reached up, and unsnapped the fasten from under the man’s helmet. Then, she gently tugged the helmet off strongly with one hand, keeping her other hand at the back of the guy’s neck.

She gasped the moment the helmet was off, at the small gash at his head, and immediately understood that he must have hit it. He groaned, and she let her gaze caress his strong jaw, lean appearance, and short, blond-streaked, light brown hair. He wore a white dress shirt and black slacks, as if he’d just come from somewhere formally, and she frowned. Who was he?

“Sir,” she called again, and then patted his cheek. “Sir, are you okay?”

He groaned again, and then opened his eyes. The deep, tormented-looking, hazel-green eyes met hers glassily, and she swallowed hard at the appeal there. But she shouldered that off.  Her ex-computer store boyfriend from last year had taught her to trust only some men, like her father and brother, and various uncles and male cousins in her family, or her very few guy friends.

“Hi, I’m Madison Brooks,” she greeted him. “An ambulance is on the way. What’s your name?”

Resting his head against the soft grass, the man closed his eyes briefly, but she didn’t miss the flash of pain. “C-Cole,” he stammered, and then winced.

“Okay, Cole, just sit tight.” She braced herself for his resistance. “And try to stay awake. You hit my car, sir, but I’m sure it was a grave mistake, so I won’t call anyone on you. I’ll just have it repaired myself. Okay?”

Cole nodded jerkily, although he closed his eyes again.

Madison bit her lip, praying that he’d stay with her.

The sound of the ambulance sirens, though, answered her prayers, but she couldn’t just leave him.

He’d hit her car. Maybe it was a sign from God that he needed help.

*************************

The next morning, Madison carried two Styrofoam, small cups of coffee in the Billings, Montana hospital, twenty miles from Lincoln, Montana. She’d waited all day yesterday for this Cole guy to wake up so she could come to the hospital and apologize for being in his way. Since he had a mild concussion, the doctor told her that he wasn’t going to be released until tomorrow. That meant that today she was going to see if he was awake. By her request, the doctor had called her last night, telling her he’d awaken then, but stated that Cole had said he had no family to contact, so his insurance was strictly his own. So far, he seemed to be a bit of a grump, but Madison was determined, with her usual sunny attitude, to cheer him up. She figured it had to be really difficult to sit in bed and feel so hopeless. The doctor had also said he hadn’t been very hungry, so she also hoped to change that. In her opinion, he looked a little weak with how plumb skinny he was. He was tall and broad-shouldered, but still skinny, and that unnerved her.

As for the family thing, she couldn’t possibly see how one could have absolutely no family, but if he didn’t have any visitors, she’d visit him. It was as simple as that, the good Samaritan she tried to be anyways.

As she reached the private hospital door, she asked the Lord to give her courage, strength, and the guidance to act any way according to His will.

She knocked, and she recognized the doctor’s voice saying, “Come in.” She walked inside, noting that Cole was asleep, and then smiled brightly at Dr. Lewis.

“How’s he doing today?” she asked, placing her cup of coffee on a table by the window.

The forty-something-year old doctor shrugged. “I was just going to see if I should wake him up. His breathing and heartbeat are both normal, though, and when I changed his bandage, the gash looked better and a bit more healed over than it had yesterday.”

Madison swallowed hard, now wishing she hadn’t had that second doughnut for breakfast this morning. “Thank you for that,” she said wryly, feeling disgusted.

She walked right over to the window, and drew open the blinds with one big sweep.

As soon as the morning sunlight beamed on Cole, he flinched awake, and then squinted up at the window, then briefly at her as if annoyed.

“Morning,” she called happily, and then walked over to his side to mostly shade him from the sun beams. “You look better this morning, Cole.” She glanced at the doctor. “Dr. Lewis was just going to wake you up, but I thought of a better way.”

“Hello, Cole,” Dr. Lewis greeted the man, who cast an annoyed glance at the wall past him. “Like I said last night, you have a small concussion.”

“Yes, you do,” Madison added brightly. “But it’ll get better very soon. You’re even being let out tomorrow.” She glanced at the doctor, who was frowning. “What?”

Dr. Lewis cleared his throat. “Anyway, as I was saying before I was interrupted…”

Madison shrugged, and then shined a big smile on Cole, who quirked an eyebrow as if only a tiny bit amused.

“You will be discharged tomorrow, but I suggest you eat a good lot today,” Dr. Lewis added. “You look a bit thin, and it’ll just be less on this lady’s nerves anyway.” He cleared his throat. “Again, I have to ask your last name, Cole.”

“My full name is Cole Douglas Whitworth,” Cole said softly, and again, Madison didn’t miss the brief flash of pain in his eyes at saying his name. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” Dr. Lewis answered calmly, one to not be trifled with. “And, again, may I ask, should I contact any family?”

Madison swallowed hard, bracing herself for whatever annoyed remark Cole might say next.

Cole gazed down at his bed sheets for a long moment, until Madison thought he wasn’t going to answer, and then he closed his eyes briefly. “Even if you did contact my family,” he said softly, “instead of being concerned, they’d just…” He swallowed hard. “Laugh at me.”

Madison and Dr. Lewis exchanged confused glances.

“May I suggest,” Dr. Lewis added stiffly, “that even though no family will be contacted, someone will  need to drive you home. That’s the hospital’s orders. Besides that, the mechanic shop in Lincoln, Montana called, and they said that your motorcycle won’t be finished being repaired until a week from now…at least.” He held up a hand at Cole’s sharp look. “Also, Miss Brooks tells me here that you barely hit the back of her car.”

Cole glanced at Madison for confirmation. “I thought you said you wouldn’t make me pay for anything.”

“I did,” Madison said with a nod.

“Which brings me to also point out,” Dr. Lewis concluded, “that I doubt very much that gash came from the accident. It was obviously caused by something else. Would you like to discuss that?”

“No,” Cole said softly, playing with the sheets. “I’ll be perfectly fine, Doc. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Dr. Lewis nodded at Madison, and then picked up his clipboard from the little movable table over Cole’s bed. “A nurse will be in here to check on you every hour or so.” He raised his eyebrows at Cole, as if warning him to keep from getting out of bed, and he left the room.

The only sound that followed was the ticking of the room clock.

Madison slowly gazed over at Cole, and then sent him a bright smile.

Cole frowned, and then sat up straighter in his bed. “What are you really doing here, Miss…?”

“I’m Madison Brooks. Remember?” She smiled sweetly at him. “I’m the one who rescued you?”

Cole’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, I don’t need rescuing any more.” He nodded at her. “Thanks. But I’m fine now.”

There was a long moment of silence.

Here was Madison’s cue to leave Cole’s room and never look back, to completely forget about ever looking after him. But she was determined to do God’s will, so since it didn’t seem done yet, she walked to his side, and handed him the extra Styrofoam cup of coffee.

“I don’t know how you like your coffee,” she said gently, and set the cup on the movable table. She slid it over to him so he could reach it, and then broadened her smile. “Of course,” she added, ignoring Cole’s quizzical look at her. “If you don’t like coffee, I can get you anything else to drink. Or eat. Orange juice, apple juice. Or if you like hot drinks…maybe some tea? I like tea. Or water? Or how about a mocha? Cappuccino?”

“This is fine,” Cole whispered, and took the coffee from the table.

“It’s black,” Madison warned, “although I brought some cream and—”

“I like it this way,” Cole whispered again, and then took a slow, cautious sip of it. He paused, and then looked at the cup as if it was his salvation. “I thought coffee like this was not allowed in hospitals.”

“It’ll be our little secret,” Madison said, and then sat in the chair next to his bed. She studied him for a long moment as he took another sip.

Then, Cole looked at her. “If you want to know where the door is…” He nodded his head at where it was. “It’s over there.”

“I know.” Madison kept a smile on, as if she was determined to stay. “But I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Cole persisted. He couldn’t believe this woman. She didn’t look much older than he was, but her sunny attitude was beginning to bother him. What did she want? Money? Why was she even here? It couldn’t be to just help him. No one he knew ever did that.

“You have a bandage on your head, Cole, and the doctor said you have a slight concussion.” She shook her golden blond head. “You’re far from fine, silly.” She shook her index finger at him. “Besides, it’s Saturday. I don’t have to work today, so let me enjoy my day off.”

“Good for you,” he quipped, and then decided that  he’d better talk to her. She obviously was determined to stay, and he wasn’t like any other person in his family to just leave or else. Half the time, the “or else” meant a yet another murder he was forbidden to tell outside the business, lest he be their next victim.

He took a ragged breath, and then swallowed hard. The coffee turned to sand in his mouth, yet he continued drinking. He needed to ease the constant grief he felt every day of his life in the past two months over the loss of his mother, a grief no one else would ever have. After all these years, he still couldn’t believe how cruel the rest of his family was.

Yesterday, by opening his stupid mouth, he’d paid for his smart remarks. For an instant, his father had yelled at Addison for hitting him, but Cole knew that everybody thought, even his father, that he deserved it. Even if he had tried to defend his mother’s late reputation, the only one who ever had or who ever would.

“Where do you work?” he sighed out, deciding to do something besides sit in the room and feel sorry for himself.

“At a bookstore in Lincoln,” she stated happily. “That’s where I was going when you accidentally hit me.” She chimed out the words as if she hadn’t just said anything negative, harshly reminding him about his motorcycle, the only thing his brothers both liked about him. “Were you headed there, too?”

“I attend college at Montana State,” he said curtly, softly.

“Oh, me, too.” She grinned. “I’m now in graduate school for two years, going into art. I want to be an art teacher. Doesn’t that sound like so much fun? My best friend, Nicole was going into art, too, but then she changed her major. She now wants to be a dentist. But I guess colleges are all different anyway. She’s attending Washington State college in Seattle.”

Seattle. The one home Cole had ever known, except for his apartment in Manhattan. The place where his mother had died, for absolutely nothing in the world. His father, Byron had stated too many times that she’d been a pest, that with how her attitude and entire personality had gone, she would have eventually told the FBI about all the murders they’d committed in the past, although Cole had nothing to do with any one of them. He was determined to keep no criminal record in his sight, yet sometimes he worried that he’d go to jail one day just for knowing about all those nameless murders. His mother had wanted a good life, yet by a single mistake of marrying their father, she’d ruined all of their lives. Yet it hadn’t been her fault. Byron had been the one vowing that he was a good man, despite his great wealth. But when they’d married, Byron had taken on his late father’s legacy of the business, yet there had only been one murder before then. Every murder they had was inconsistent, completely innocent, and gravely hidden. Every victim’s family either had no family, or were murdered along with. They were mostly people who Byron or Addison had previously hired, and who later tried to tell someone about all the bad things happening from inside the business.

That was why Cole daily feared for his life. He’d rather live than have to suffer the torment his mother had gone through, being killed by her own family, hiring thugs to take care of her and all the rest of them.

“Have you ever been to the bookstore?” Madison asked him.

“Can’t say I have,” he said stiffly, and took another tried sip of his coffee.

“Well, you should sometime. It’s a fab place to work. My co-workers have become my friends. They’re so nice to be around.” Madison grinned. “I take it you’re in graduate school as well?”

He nodded. “I’m just going into business, math emphasis.”

“Sounds interesting. I guess all majors do in that way.” She thought hard for a long moment, and then her peaches-in-cream complexion looked guarded for several seconds. “If you don’t mind my asking, Cole Whitworth, what job do you have? Or don’t  you have one?’

“Not at the moment,”  he said carefully. “But my family…they….they have a big business.” If “big” was even the correct term to describe it.

Madison frowned for the first time all morning. Confusion was written all over her face, but the last thing Cole wanted to do was describe a single detail of the business. It would all turn into bad news, and since Madison seemed such a sweet girl, he hated to hurt her by letting gunmen come to her house…

He shook his head, mostly to get rid of that image. “It’s nothing.” He took another sip of his coffee.

“Oh,” was all  Madison said.

Just then, the door opened, and a nurse with a big grin walked inside.

“Hello, dear,” she greeted him, carrying a tray of food. “Ready to try some food today?”

Cole was ready to refuse, since his stomach felt too twisted to eat.

“Maybe something light to begin with?” She placed the tray on his table by the coffee.

“Yes, he will eat,” Madison remarked, and Cole looked up with surprise.

Madison was standing next to his bed, looking over the tray of food as if deciding for him on what he should or should not eat. “There’s only toast and orange juice here.” She frowned, and then glanced at the nurse. “Will you please get some soda crackers, Jell-O, and a small bowl of cereal? This can’t be all he eats for breakfast.” She fisted her hands on her hips.

“Right away, hon.” The nurse gave him one last smile, and then left to retrieve the items.

He frowned, and then glanced back at Madison. “What are you—”

“You are going to eat,” she told him, looking at him sternly. “And if you don’t, I might as well feed you.”

Now he was really confused. “All right, why are you helping me so much, Miss Brooks?”

“Madison,” she corrected instantly, and smiled. “I want to be a good Samaritan. You know. For God?”

God. The One Person Cole tried to count on as much as possible, despite all the  bad things constantly happening in his life. “O-Oh.” He swallowed hard.

“Besides.” She smiled gently at him. “They’re not going to discharge you until you’ve eaten at least two three-course meals.”

“Fine,” he sighed, knowing how relentless she was being. “You can help. But don’t feed me.”

“All right.” Madison giggled, a bell-like sound that momentarily filled the room with warmth. Then, she cocked her head at him. “But don’t look so guilty or frustrated, Cole. I’m just trying to be a good helper. You probably need it anyway, right?” She briefly glanced at his shoulders. “To get some skin on those bones?” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe him, and then gently edged the table closer to him.

Cole couldn’t help feeling a smile start at the corners of his mouth. She was something else. He’d never met anyone as demanding  yet so kind, at least not since his mother had passed.

“All right.” He sighed, hoping his stomach accepted the food.  ”I’ll eat.”

“Thank you.” Madison beamed at him, and then walked over to the table by the window to take her own coffee and drink it.

The nurse came back inside with another tray, and set the plate of crackers, and two different plastic bowls of cereal and Jell-O on his other tray so it wouldn’t be so cluttered around him. “There. Want anything else?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” he said, and then stared at all the food he had to eat. And he had to eat it, too, or he was sure to get a good scolding from someone, either the nurse or Madison.

“Thank you,” Madison called as the nurse left.

Cole heard a chuckle come out of him for the first time in some months, at least. “I think she’s a bit scared of you.”

“She’d better be.” Still standing by the table, Madison rolled her eyes. “How dare she for feeding you so little to begin with. Your stomach has to be screaming with hunger by now, right?”

“Sure,” he said, and took another sip of his coffee before digging into the food….reluctantly. The hospital food was a little blah, but feeling Madison nearby, as if a new friend, was brightening his spirits a bit. He could hardly explain the feeling, so he kept eating to make himself behave better. She was just a helper, after all, and she’d probably be gone from his life in a mere few hours.

There was the sound of some jolly jingling, and he glanced over to see Madison punch in a button of her cell phone. “Hey, Nicole.” She grinned at him, mouthed, “eat,” and then turned her back on him to answer the call.

But as Cole ate, however, he couldn’t help hearing how delighted and unbelievably happy Madison sounded as she talked on the phone.

He was almost finished when he heard her gasp.

“Oh, Joan,” she groaned on the phone, now on her second call in the thirty whole minutes it’d taken him to force down all that food. He had to admit, though, that he did feel better than he had yesterday. “You’re kidding me.” She turned back, her face looking fallen, and Cole couldn’t explain it, but it felt like someone had punched him in the gut at that look on her face. She sighed heavily. “All right, fine. See you in a bit.” She ended the call, and then glanced at him, apologies deep in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Cole, I hafta go.” She reached for her stuff. “I was called into work, because my co-worker Joan got food poisoning. She’s okay, of course,” she added as if she thought he might want to know, “but I need to fill in for her.”

“Go ahead.” He waved a hand. “I’ll be fine. I even finished my food, see?” He motioned to his mostly empty tray of food, filled with mostly empty, plastic dishes.

“Great job.” She grinned as if meaning the words. “But hey, I’ll see you in about five or six hours. ‘Kay? Hope you rest until then.”

She was coming back? Cole swallowed hard, appalled by her kindness. “You….You don’t have to.”

Madison stopped fidgeting with her purse to glance up at him.

“I mean…” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m a lot better now. You don’t have to come back. I appreciate your generosity, really. It’s just…”

“Just that I’m not going to leave you alone.” She shrugged. “I already called a church friend, and told them I’ll be into church late tomorrow, since I’m taking you home.” She smiled at him. “I’m not going anywhere. I rescued you, remember?”

That didn’t matter, Cole knew. Because if he became friends with this woman, his family might find out.

“Eat up.” She grinned. “I’ll come back later, and by then you better have eaten two full meals, mister.” She pointed her index finger at him. “Or you’re getting it good.” She waved. “Have a great afternoon!”

In a blur, then, Madison Brooks was gone, and Cole was gaping at the door as it closed behind her. He could not believe how she was acting. It was extremely generous of her. Why would she want to be so kind? Or even try? She didn’t know the kind of man he was.

Cole forced himself to finish his breakfast, although the rest of it just tasted like dust to the ends of the dreaded earth.

**********************************************************

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A Change of Pace; Prologue

9 August 2019

Hello everyone,

 

Because of the fact that our baby is due in September, I won’t be writing regular blog posts for a while. However, in the mean time, you’ll still receive blog posts from me every month – all because WordPress has this wonderful system of scheduling blog posts to publish at a later date. My wonderful followers, I know you will remain faithful in reading my posts. Unfortunately, life happens and when it does, some things need to be put on hold for a while. Once the baby is born, I promise I will try my hardest to write my blog posts.

 

However, I’m looking forward to it! Now that we’ll have a baby at home, the humor for life which I always try to incorporate in my blog posts will only increase. I enjoy telling all kinds of stories, so of course that will never change. In the mean time, I’ve decided to publish a chapter of my work-in-progress book, “Time & Tide”. I hope you will all enjoy 🙂 I hope you all won’t mind if you happen to see a typo every now and then. All I ask is that you keep an open mind, and think only of the story at hand. This is only a work in progress, after all. 🙂

 

Prologue 

The day was partly cloudy, sunshine trying to beam through the clouds but not quite succeeding. In the city of Seattle, Washington, Addison James Whitworth tapped his fingers on a large, brown desk. Addison was the oldest in the Whitworth family. He knew he was going to get the wealthy inheritance once he and siblings’ father had passed. But that would be a while, of course. He still had time to help in the family’s “career.”

Addison had sharply cut, rich black hair that always looked slick and greasy, cool. He was twenty-eight years old, even though he looked thirty-five, and always wore a suit. He was sitting in a large room with white walls and darkly painted paintings. There was a small window behind him, creamy white lace curtains blowing in the breeze. He again tapped his fingers on the desk, a grave sign of impatience.

He slammed a button on a machine in front of him, beeping the company secretary. “Sally, have you heard from my father yet?” he demanded gruffly.

Sally Berg, the constant scared-stiff secretary, answered in a strained yet calm voice, “He said that he was going to be a little late, and that your siblings are on their way.”

“It’s about time,” Addison grumbled, and thanked the secretary sharply before leaning back in his leather armchair.

Still restless and impatient, he got up off his seat to the window, and gazed outside. The Seattle skyscrapers and other tall buildings could be seen in the distance, along with many other mansions and highly expensive complexes around the area. But the only reason that he could, however, was because Seattle was beyond the Whitworth gardens. The mansion he was standing inside was four stories tall, with many rooms not needed and not used. There was a huge garden surrounding the entire mansion, along with a big, wide, and tall front, metal gate that could only be opened if the arriver knew the password. Every one of his family members, along with every staff member in the mansion, who were also starkly hooked to the entire Whitworth company, a very wealthy business, knew that if they went outside the entire business’s resources, they would get fired. Being fired was the best thing that could happen to them, if they were lucky.

He just happened to be gazing out a third story window of his office, and wished that his father didn’t work as a lawyer on the side of the family business. It would make things a lot easier and safer, but then some people might still be curious, so for the umpteenth time, Addison Whitworth noted that perhaps his father was continuously doing what was best for the family, and for every one of his five children.

He cleared his throat, and then fisted out a cigar from his pocket. He lighted it, and then tossed the closed lighter on his large expanse of desk. He gazed briefly around the room, at the several lounge chairs and many bookshelves of dictionaries, various encyclopedias, and any other book his father or him had ever bought or owned. Most of them had to either do with history or politics, yet some of them were great novels, like “The Grapes of Wrath” or “To Kill A Mockingbird.” But those time periods was as far as it went for purchasing books.

Suddenly, the white, wooden door of the office flew open. Addison looked up just as a tall lady with shoulder-length, curly light brown hair and terrified, wide blue eyes entered the room. Wrinkles ordained her soft cheeks, and she had three different rings on various fingers of her left hand: a wedding ring, engagement ring, and a mother’s ring, doting five different birthstones. In Addison’s opinion, the ridiculous thing was a symbol of a mother’s great, adoring love for her five children. Yet all Addison had for his mother was resentment.

“Addison!” the woman exclaimed, her voice squeaky, and she hurried over to him in her formal wear of a tight, short-sleeved, blue blouse, and long, black skirt with matching heels. A diamond necklace glittered around her neck, along with diamond earrings. “You cannot do this, my son! You just cannot.”

“It has to be done, Mother.” He shook his head, talking around the cigar at the corner of his mouth. “If it’s not done, it’ll be an entire disgrace to the company’s business livelihood, not to mention this family.”

“This family has become a too-strict, no-good place that will just deteriorate as the years go by!” Amelia Whitworth reached forward and clutched both hands against her son’s suit coat. Her eyes were pleading with him madly as she looked up into her son, six inches taller than her. “I am your mother, my sweet boy. Your mother! How can you even dare to do this to your mother? All because of that man?”

Addison’s green eyes turned into disgust as he gazed down at his mother, and then clasped a hand around hers. He pushed her off him, and then stepped back. “That man happens to be my father, Mother.”

“Yeah, a father who uses his children for money, wealth, and dishonesty.” She shuddered, hugging herself. “I don’t understand why you have to do this. I just don’t. I raised you, your brothers, and sisters better than this, Addison! It even says so in the Bible—”

“You know we don’t read the Bible unless we are curious about a piece of history,” Addison snapped, and then scowled at her. “You are anything but a mother anymore…Amelia.”

Amelia’s gaze snapped up, and she threw a glare at her son. “How dare you call me by my first name! You’re my son! You’re supposed to call me Mother, or Mom!”

“Ha!” Addison shook his head, and then looked up to see two young women enter the room. “Ah, you’re finally here.”

“We would’ve been here earlier,” the youngest girl, nineteen-year old Emily Ladonna Whitworth remarked with an innocent toss of her long, dark brown wavy hair. She crossed her arms, and leaned against the wall. “But we couldn’t find Cole.”

“What!” Addison exclaimed, and stomped his foot. “This is a family meeting!” He ignored his mother’s scoff from behind him. “He’s every bit of family as the rest of us.”

Emily’s hazel-green eyes narrowed, daring Addison to say that she didn’t tell him so. Cole was being a disgrace to the family legacy as their brother. “Well, what do you know. So what are we supposed to do about it, huh?”

Addison quirked an eyebrow.

“Addison!” the second, twenty-one year old sister, Lorraine Jeanne Whitworth exclaimed at her oldest brother, disappointment lacing her beautiful blue eyes. She shook her head at him, her shoulder-length, light blond curls shifting. “How many times have I told you to stop smoking cigars?” She gave a face of disgust. “No wonder it smells horrible in here all the time.”

“They’re stress relievers, Lor.” He shook his head back at her. “And when it comes to Cole, why shouldn’t I have this right?”

“Ah, don’t worry,” twenty-five year old, short brother Jack Walton Whitworth proclaimed lazily as he stepped into the room behind his sisters. His green eyes looked darker against his wavy and short, dark brown hair. “The thugs will find him eventually. They always do.”

Addison rolled his eyes. “Oh, for the last time, Jack! Will  you quit calling them thugs?”

“Okay, fine.” Jack shook his head, coming to stand beside Emily. “I guess I can’t wait until Karl, Slade, Linus, and Russ get here, then,” he added sarcastically, with a lace of bitterness.

Almost all at the same time, the four siblings turned to gaze hateful glances at their mother, standing beside the window.

Amelia glared right back. “How dare you,” she snarled, clenching her hands around her crossed arms until her knuckles were white. “You’re my children!” Her voice broke on the last word, and she bit her lip. “How dare you.” She shook her head, and then looked away.

“Anyway,” Jack added as if neither one of them had even heard their mother speak. “When are we going to get this show on the road?”

“Yeah,” Lorraine chimed in, “are we having the meeting afterward?”

“Quite so.” Addison momentarily slipped his cigar from his mouth to blow smoke into the air. He ignored Lorraine’s roll of the eyes. “There are quite a few things Father and I need to discuss with you guys.”

“I wish it could’ve waited for another day,” Emily pronounced. “I have an accounting job to get back to.”

“Don’t we all,” Jack added wryly, and then a lopsided smirk braced across his mouth.

“Well. Let the show begin,” came another voice, and they all turned, even Amelia, to see a tall man with graying, dark brown, wavy hair, and piercing green eyes. Byron Gonzalo Whitworth looked strict and angry and determined, as always, and he leaned a bit on a cane, though he mostly used it to just look nice. He wore no wedding ring on his finger, however, despite him still being married to Amelia. Reading glasses were clipped to his single breast pocket, and he cleared his throat.

“Father,” Addison greeted the man, but he didn’t show as much respect on his face as the rest of his siblings did.

Jack, Lorraine, and Emily even showed more respect for their father by looking more formal and polite. Emily leaned away from the wall, Jack straightened his tie, and Emily cleared her throat and raised her chin.

But Byron looked around. “Where’s Cole?” he demanded gruffly.

Even though Emily winced, Addison remained in control. “The guys are probably looking for him, sir.”

“We couldn’t find him or contact him for the meeting,” Lorraine said to her father softly.

Byron huffed. “Boy! Can’t get him to do anything around here.” He shook his head with more anger than disappointment. “If this keeps up, he’s going to have to go, too.”

That statement brought Amelia looking up with surprised fright. “Not Cole,” she whispered, and then braced forward toward her husband. Addison tried to reach out to grab her arm, but she was too fast. She hurried up to clutch her husband’s jacket like she had with Addison’s before. “Not my youngest boy! Oh, dear, Byron, you wouldn’t!”

“It might have to be done,” Byron stated quietly, and then barely looked at her. “You…You are no wife of mine.”

Stark hurt blazed through Amelia’s blue eyes, and then she glared at him, finally letting go. “Nor are you a good husband,” she snarled, and then stepped back. “You’re nothing but an idiotic, pompous windbag.” She turned away toward the window.

Byron scoffed, untouched, yet showed no smile on his face. He rarely smiled. “Call me what you want, Amelia. But in the end…” He shook his head. “It won’t matter.”

Addison reached into his other pocket, and pulled out a small device. Pressing a button with his thumb, he talked into it. “Linus, where are you guys?”

“Headed upstairs,” came Linus’s faint reply.

“Good,” Byron huffed again as Addison tossed the device onto his organized desk. “We need to get this over with, the sooner, the better.”

Amelia shuddered, her eyes filled with tears as she kept her gaze at her feet.

“Sir?”

They all turned to see three big, muscular thugs stomp into the room, all dressed in black and wearing hefty belts with guns.

Linus Townsend, the biggest one, was clutching the collar of Cole Douglas Whitworth, the literal disgrace of the family. “I found him in the trees. I don’t know what he was doing.”

“Get off me,” Cole snarled, and then jerked away. His short, light brown, blond-streaked hair was messy, as if he’d been running his hands through it a few times. He wasn’t dressed formally, either. He had a nice white shirt that was not tucked in, and he wore a black tie very loose around his neck, along with black slacks and matching dress shoes.

Cole’s hazel-green eyes filled with unmistakable pain as he gazed at his mother in the corner.

“It’s about time, you idiot,” Addison snapped, momentarily taking out his cigar and clutching his mother’s forearm tightly at the same time. “What were you doing? In the trees, of all places?”

“Trying to hide, to figure out a way to stop all this nonsense,” Cole exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, and his eyes filled with tears. “Come on, Addison. She’s our mother.”

“More your mother than ours these days.” Addison shook his head, and a playful grin stood at the corners of his mouth. “Since you’re such a mama’s boy.”

Cole glared at him furiously.

“That’s enough, boys,” Byron said, and then looked at his thugs. He nodded his head toward Amelia. “Guys, go on.”

Three of the thugs went over and grabbed Amelia tightly just as her arms dropped to her sides helplessly, and tears began streaming down her cheeks. Russ, the smallest thug, fisted out a gun and held it at the woman.

“No!” Cole screamed, and he lurched forward, but Slade, the thug standing at the door, grabbed his arm. Jack grabbed the other arm, both determined to keep Cole back. He was supposed to be a good use to the company. “Please.”

His face very emotionless, Byron glanced at a piece of rumpled paper. “Amelia Whitworth, you are charged with being a conspiracy against this family…” He re-folded the piece of paper, and placed it back into the inside pocket of his white-striped, gray suit coat. “…And are ordered to die immediately.”

“So long,” Addison quipped, and then grinned.

“Mom!” Cole exclaimed, tears pooling in his eyes. His shoulders started shaking as he tried to struggle free, glaring at his oldest brother. “You cannot do this! She didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Of course she did,” Addison remarked.

“I suggest you shut up now, Cole,” Jack said angrily from behind Cole.

“Mom,” Cole whimpered, staring at his mother tenderly, yet very sadly as she choked on a sob, and gazed lovingly back at her son. “I love you.”

Amelia nodded, mouthing, “I love you” back, just as Russ cocked the pistol.

“No!” Cole yelled, and then squeezed his eyes shut.

A piercing gunshot hit the room, followed by a soft thump.

Emily gazed with interest at her nails, and then raised her eyebrows. “Can I go back to work now?”

“No,” Byron stated. “That’s enough, Emily.” He frowned at her. “There’s still business to discuss.” He glanced at Cole. “As for you, Cole…”

Cole glanced at his father angrily, being let go by Slade.

“You will not dishonor this family.” Byron pointed at his son with his rich black cane. “You will continue with your college studies, but I suggest you obey whatever we say. The next meeting is next month. You stay quiet throughout the entire meeting this morning, and continue doing so for the rest of the meetings unless you have something to say that you know will particularly interest us.” He shook his head. “You will do exactly as Addison or myself say, and that goes for the rest of your siblings. Otherwise, we’re through!” he added sharply. “Is that understood?”

Cole swallowed hard, and then gazed momentarily at his mother’s body. He swallowed again, and a single tear rolled down his cheek.

“Yes, Father,” he said softly.

Jack patted his shoulder, as if he was glad he’d finally agreed, and let go of him, too.

“Good.” Byron nodded, and then cleared his throat. “We need to discuss other business matters now, then.”

His face contorted, Cole gazed over at Addison.

From around his cigar, Addison grinned at him, but it did nothing to soothe Cole’s pain.
*************************

 

 

 

 

How to Live a Happy Life~

19 April 2019

Hello, everyone,

 

It’s been a while since I’ve written a blog post, and I do apologize about that. I’ve spent the past couple months getting prepared for our house and baby, as well as planning, organizing, and nesting. I have missed writing, however, very much, and even after the baby is born, I still plan to write. I’ll never give it up.

 

So with everything going on around you, living a busy life day after day, how do you still live a happy life?

 

Well, I can honestly say that I’ve never felt truly happy until I’ve heartily prayed about the things in my life that bug me, and then leave the rest to God, trusting Him to handle it in His own good time. It gives you such peace when you finally allow God to take care of even the smallest things in your life, such as what you and your spouse are going to have for supper that night. I’ve been known to pray about such things. It gives me the courage to rely on the Lord even more. In fact, you can rely upon Him with anything in your life that may bug you. Praying about it simply makes it all disappear, as well as causes you to realize that maybe the situation isn’t as bad as you may think. After all, you’re giving it to a big God who is more than capable of handling it!

 

The main reason there is a growing rate of suicides in the world today, is because people are not truly happy. They may have hobbies that they love, family members that they love, and so forth. But if you don’t a hundred percent give everything to the Lord, then how do you expect to endure true peace in your life? Even after a couple of days of neglecting to pray, I feel weak and empty inside. Many times, I’ve heard how people in the news admitting that they felt suicidal or depressed, because they felt so empty inside.  That emptiness and depression wouldn’t be there if only they had given their problems and burdens to God. Of course, it doesn’t happen overnight. There are still things that I personally struggle with and have to cry out to God about them every day, but I pray that God will help me through them and give me the wisdom and guidance to know how to encounter such trials. Maybe the trial is a person in our life who brings us down in some way, or maybe it’s an event or circumstance that you dread coming across either occasionally or regularly. Maybe it’s something in your own personality that you wish was different. Whatever the case, give it to the Lord. Even though He knows what we need and want before we ask Him, we should never be afraid to ask Him for things, because that’s what builds a lasting relationship with Him.

 

There was a time in my life when I hardly ever prayed to God unless I absolutely needed something extremely important changed or a problem fixed within my life. I realize now how wrong that was. Aside from asking for things we need and want, as well as giving all of our burdens over to Him, we need to do so with a thankful heart. A lot of times, if we get a prayer answered, we forget about how fervently we’d prayed to God about that situation that we don’t even thank Him for the answered prayer! We must stop this. After all, God gave us His Son to die on the cross to pay for all of our sins. Jesus was innocent; we are not. God gave us the blessing of our spouse; our true friends; our family; our home; our jobs; our cars; our gift of life to breathe and live each and every day. If we only pray to God whenever we need Him, we’re not giving Him enough credit and we’re definitely not being very fair to Him who has given us all things.

 

So once again, do you want to know the key to a truly happy life? God. Find God, and you find yourself and every answer to every problem in your life. Find God, and you’ll never be depressed or suicidal. Find God, and everything will work out beautifully in your life. And trust me – as soon who prayed fervently every day for years for a baby and a bigger home, and those things have happened – they WILL turn out all right. 🙂

 

Happy Easter, everyone 🙂

 

JMK~

Writers & Personal Style~

22 January 2019

 

Hello, everyone,

 

I love to watch a good movie, preferably anything of either the superhero kind or a romantic drama / comedy. Everybody has their own tastes and preferred genres when it comes to movies. Some like horror movies or can’t seem to get enough of Stephen King flicks. Others watch only inspirational movies. For myself, it’s a mix. Around Halloween especially is when I really get courageous enough to see a new horror movie. But the point is: everyone has their own tastes.

 

The same is true for artists – some prefer watercolors; others, a different type of painting style. For writers, we all have our own genres that we prefer as well. I prefer romantic suspense, because I love a good love story, wound together within a intense mystery where the reader gradually pieces together a puzzle. Maybe that’s why Kate Morton is my favorite author. Also, there’s nothing wrong with the genre you prefer, or the type of writer you are.

 

The only thing wrong is when somebody makes it their priority to try to hurt you or else ruin the objectives to your dreams in which you’re currently working so hard for. These people are called bullies. Online, they’re called cyber bullies. Now there’s nothing wrong with constructive criticism – the kind where people kindly correct you about how to be better at your dream career or hobby. That type of stuff I happily accept. But, as many of you probably know very well, there’s the ugly type – those who purposely try to say cruel and untrue things about you. They may post an ugly comment on a social media page of yours, or share your information just to publicly humiliate you or else try to destroy your public image on social media.  I’m not sure what causes people to want to purposely harm others to get what they want or maybe to even make them feel better about themselves, but I’ve dealt with it enough times to realize that these people are not worth even corresponding with. So whenever someone does try to purposely get you, just remember one thing: nobody can ever prevent the dream career or hobby you’re trying to reach. Absolutely nobody. All you must do is block them, maybe fix your privacy shields a bit if you need to, and move on. It’s not even worth trying to defend yourself to people who are not keeping an open mind or open heart about the kind of person you are, or the art you’re trying so hard to create.

 

Writers aren’t perfect. Human beings aren’t perfect, and we haven’t been since before Adam & Eve first sinned in the Garden of Eden. If writers make a mistake, maybe they aren’t aware of it. Maybe they need some kind advice. But don’t berate them, embarrass them either publicly or privately, and don’t belittle them. In the long run, such cruelty isn’t going to benefit you, especially if readers discover you’re cruel to other authors/writers. Don’t you want people who follow you on social media to look up to you?

 

Writers – we are all in the same boat here. We all want the same goal: to be published, and to positively affect the world through our stories. But how exactly are you doing that if you’re being a bully to other fellow writers/authors? Still, I forgive you. This post isn’t about shooting daggers at anyone, but rather, showing people the right and wrong ways to criticize art. The art of writing is a beautiful thing. God blessed us with the talents to commit pen to paper and create amazing stories. But God did not create us to harshly or cruelly criticize other people’s mistakes or personal styles. Such negative attributes are straight from the devil.

 

Constructive criticism is beneficial and is much encouraged. Going forward, please make sure that the criticism you give others is not going to hurt them in any way, and is said in the nicest way possible. As an artist, writer, or whatever hobby or career you’re passionate about, you’re always going to receive criticism. You’re also always going to have the chance to give criticism. But just make sure that both are done in the right way. Otherwise, it not only tries to destroy that artist or writer’s character, but it begins to eat at your character as well.

 

There are millions of people out in the world longing to make a difference to the world. Don’t try to ruin that for them, especially when you’re trying to make a difference yourself. Instead of being an enemy, be a friend, because friendship will change a person’s life for the better; enemies only destroy.

 

So writers, I encourage each and every one of you to write in your own personal style! Work your hardest and be the best that you can be, and don’t let anyone ever create doubts in your mind about yourself. Don’t ever let anyone try to thwart the dreams you’re working to accomplish. I especially encourage you to pray about it, because with a little bit of hard work and a little bit of fervent prayer, God WILL bless you.

 

Have a good week, everyone. And remember, be nice. 🙂

 

JMK~

Waiting for What You Want Most~

Waiting for What You Want Most~

14 January 2019

 

Hello, everyone, and Happy New Year!!! 🙂 🙂

 

I cannot believe that it is finally the new year! 🙂 2018 was such a terrible year, filled with disappointment and death. Therefore, I am so thankful for a new year; for new beginnings and adventures. I’m so looking forward to what God has planned for us this year!

 

In fact, below are my 2019 goals. I never fulfill all of my yearly goals, but it’s still fun to plan and think ahead, isn’t it?

 

  • Develop a stronger faith & a complete trust in God.
  • Finish my current WIP (Work In Progress), “The Innkeeper’s Secret”, and thoroughly revise it and do research on it.
  • Finish my final FINAL revision of “The Dead Sister”, completely revise the query letter & synopsis, and once again submit to literary agents.
  • God willing – find our house, buy it, and move out of our apartment before the summer.
  • Spend more time with family and true friends, as well as church family.
  • Learn better on forgive and forget, as well as how to be completely content with my life for now.

 

Right now, I am waiting on several things in my life. One thing I can mention is that I am waiting for the time when I’m once again a published author! Within this past week, I became an official author on Goodreads!! How huge that is, because to me that means that I’m still not just a writer, but an author. Granted, I’ve only published one book in my life, but still, I have faith that one day, God will bless me with even more books to place on bookshelves. This time, God willing, they’ll be on shelves at Barnes & Noble – just like my favorite author, Kate Morton.

 

Waiting is sooooo tough. Everyone in the world has waited on something in some point of their lives. Maybe you’re simply waiting for life to begin – for college to start, to finally move out and be free from your parents. Or maybe you’re waiting to finish college and find that career you love. You could be waiting for that dream career, for God to bless you with that perfect spouse, for God to bless you with a baby, or for God to save you from the problems/trials going on in your life.

 

Whatever you’re waiting on – just remember, God knows. Right now, God has forced my husband and I to wait for blessings that only He can provide. But in those times of trial and uncertainty, it’s important not to lose hope or faith. This season of waiting is simply just a test of your faith. God wants to see how much you’ll depend on Him – or if you’ll take matters into your own hands! And folks, DO NOT TAKE MATTERS INTO YOUR OWN HANDS!! Do not even make a single decision in your life without praying about it first. It’ll only cause you to have to take a serious detour within that certain big decision or issue you’re praying hard for. But if you simply trust God and be patient, God WILL come through for you because He DOES exist and He DOES LOVE YOU more than you can possibly imagine!

 

One of the hardest choices I’m faced with right now is being patient – but in the course of that, I’m learning how to be content with where God has put me at this point in my life. No, it’s not fair, and quite often, I cry out to God and pray with my whole heart for Him to answer our prayers. But alas, we must let God’s timetable rule.

 

Soooo what are you supposed to do in the mean time while you wait?

 

Busy yourself with the hobbies you love. Right now, while I wait, I’m devoted to re-decorating and re-organizing our home, playing piano more, reading suspense novels, working harder to learn & love my job better, and planning and writing my current WIP. I’ve also devoted myself to spending more time in God’s Word, in prayer, and spending more time with my husband, Ryan, as well as my family, true friends, and church family. No, all of these hobbies do not block the desperate longing coursing through my heart several times a day. They do not block out the need for those dreams that drive me forward daily. But even more important than that – in fact, the most important of all – by gradually learning to let go of my fears and worries each morning and choosing to trust God, I’ve found an everlasting peace. That peace comes only by giving our Creator all control. I’m not saying it’s easy; in fact, it comes only over time, as well as through sincere Christian growth.

 

But I promise you this – when God whispers, “Okay, you’re ready now,” and answers your prayers – just think how eternally thankful you’ll be! And you know what? You’ll also be thankful that you had trusted Him in the first place, because He is our dearest friend we have, and He will never let us down. Never! No matter how He chooses to answer our prayers! 🙂

 

Are you struggling right now in your faith? Or are you looking to get closer to God? Or maybe it’s your first time turning to God in your life and you want to learn more about Him? Come on, don’t be shy. – Please feel free to comment or else drop me a line at my email: books_jmg@yahoo.com. Never lose hope, my friends, and never lose patience! Yes, it will be trying at times – but it WILL be so incredibly worth it!

 

Make sure to follow me on Goodreads! Have a good January, everyone 🙂

 

JMK~

Christmas Memories~

Christmas Memories~

23 December 2018

 

Hello everyone,

 

What are your favorite Christmas memories spent with your grandparents? Did you used to bake cookies / other desserts with Grandma or Grandpa? Or do you simply remember being surrounded by them on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, relinquishing the cherished memories of simply being together.

 

This holiday season will be the first Christmas without my grandmother, a wonderful lady who taught me so many things in my thirty years of life. She taught me how to work hard for what you’re most passionate about, never give up, and never stop trying. She taught me that one doesn’t have to have good looks to be successful in life; among other things. Ever since I was a little girl, I enjoyed baking with her. Saturday afternoons growing up, I’d go next door to my grandmother’s house where she had fresh baked cookies cooling on the counter, and always offered to make me some tea. She had a ton of different kinds of tea, so she always gave me my list of options of teas I could choose from. She’d always recommend one, too, and together we’d sit together at the kitchen table, and she’d look over the day’s newspaper or magazine and ask me what I was up to these days, even if she’d only seen me a few days before. My grandma always had her dark hair, no matter how old she was, short and permed perfectly. Her bifocal glasses sat at the edge of her long nose. Her hands were spotted with age, but ones that reminded me of comfort, love, and patience as she taught me how to sew images on dish towels and kneel at the foot of the bed at night before saying my prayers.

 

I’m thinking about my grandma a lot this holiday season, such as how, every year, she created little drops of fudge and divinity for her grandchildren to enjoy. My sisters and I, my parents, and as many cousins as could come, celebrated Christmas Day afternoon opening gifts that my grandmother had given to all of her grandchildren. You could tell, simply by the joy on her face, that she adored seeing the looks on her grandchildren’s faces as they opened their gifts, while being quite humble about her own gifts. My grandma put her whole heart into the spirit of Christmas, and aside from God, family meant the most to her. I so wish I could hear her laugh again, her pleasant voice, and the comfort one can have simply by being in their grandmother’s presence. I plan to one day tell my future children about her and the woman who meant so much to me. I loved her very much.

 

This holiday season, make sure you’re humble within the spirit of Christmas, that you’re more excited to give rather than receive gifts. Cherish the sweet home holiday traditions you share with your families, and study them fondly so that one day, they’ll be rigidly clear in your mind as you think upon what once was. Bake lots of Christmas cookies and candies, even if you end up having to throw some. Buy different kinds of wrapping paper. Find lots of cute little knicknacks and streams to hang around your house, aside from a simple Christmas tree. If, in your head, you’re finding excuses to not go to a certain relative’s house or to visit this person or that person – don’t think on the negative. Because Christmas is about the positive, and sharing the season of giving and sharing with those we love most.

 

Happy Holidays, everyone 🙂

 

JMK~

 

 

Offering Editing Services 

Hello everyone,

Beginning today I’m offering editing services for anyone who needs something edited! 😀😀 Please share this among yourselves, and let me know if you have questions! 🙂

Editing Services

Are you looking for a professional to write and edit something of yours? A poem, short story or manuscript or any other documents? Are you on the verge of sending something into a publisher and need another’s eye about what you have written? You’ve come to the right place! I will edit and proofread your documents while providing free feedback and criticism to you at a single cost.

Why Me?
I have a Bachelor of Arts degree in English with an emphasis on Writing. I also fourteen years of my own experience, including college, to professionally give you a good writing and editing approach.

How does it work?
You contact me via email or social media with your attached document you would like edited. If it is a short story or manuscript, I will provide free constructive criticism in comments throughout the work. Constructive criticism is nothing personal against you or your work, but something critics give on a regular basis. It is not mean feedback, but honest, creative, and direct feedback. I will give you honest and creative approach that will be most beneficial to you and your work. Examples of things I’d comment on is research done for something in the story, or POV aspects.

What do you look for when editing?
Sentence structure, grammar, punctuation, spelling, POV within paragraphs, and that the paragraphs are indented correctly. When editing, I will also determine what readers would like about certain parts.

What is the cost?
Manuscripts; books of poetry or short stories – $50
Individual poems or other documents- $20

How do I pay?
Through PayPal, find my account under name Jenna Kinzler (brown hair with black sweater and scarf), and send to this account. Otherwise, I can give you my address and you can send a check.
How long will it take? (Depending upon project):
Manuscripts- 2-3 weeks
Other – 3-5 days

Exceptions
I will not accept material about or eluding to the erotic or sexual nature which includes bestiality, rape, incest, or alternative lifestyles. Also, please only submit works that carries as little profanity as possible. If you have any questions about these, since there may be exceptions, please contact me. It is better to ask questions than to miss out on an incredible opportunity for your work to be edited professionally.

Need more info?
Please contact me via one of my social media pages seen here, or by my email: books_jmg@yahoo.com.

Thank you! I look forward to working with you all! I promise you it’ll be a rewarding and exciting experience for both of us!