Incarnation release….the inspiration

Isn’t it interesting to think about a world without plastic surgery, or at least one where no one would consider such a thing, because the natural face is…or was, so precious?

That was the initial concept behind this idea…years ago, thinking about the obsession to look better in all ways. I’d just finished watching a BBC series on all the things that had gone wrong and thought…what if? What if the US was a place affected by a virus that would wipe out the DNA structure for the face…and the government benevolently stepped in to help out. Then a few decades later, conspiracy theorists were put in jail for attempting to uncover the truth. Well, this coincided with visiting my husbands hometown of Ouray, just on the other side of Telluride. It’s all the is natural, sexy, rugged and remote, with the bonus of being home to one of the countries largest (and now defunct) gold mines. Ouray and the surrounding area is also famously known as “little Switzerland” because the town of @500 (goes up to 1K in the summer) literally sits in a bowl, surrounding by mountains going straight up. This territory has made it the #1 area of off-roading 4-wheel drives. What that really means is one gets is raised jeeps and tries no to puke going up and over car-sized boulders.

The concept merged with the town to form Incarnation. Really, who can make up a remote town with mine-riddled mountains; a place that has no lights or gas stations, where everyone knows (and dates) everyone, and the natural hot springs bubbling up from the ground pulls in tourists from around the world.

I based the story on a few still living towns-folks, and made up a few others. The bars, restaurants and yes, the Moose lodge, spa and mine all exist. The old miner referenced is actually a man my husband, Roger, worked with as a teenager. The two would ride the house-sized vehicles up the hill and stay in an old, wooden shack, resisting against the gail-force winds at night sucking down moonshine, and during the day, Rog would careen over deep crevases, stringing metal cables–the goal being to prevent the random skier or snowmobiler from meeting an early death.

Without giving too much more away, I will add this first book was a joy, and frankly, it was a bit painful to then transition to book 2 of the Chambers series–The Spirit Warrior. The style, flow and attitude of this book is uniquely its own. I loved it. I want to be Kyle. But then again, I want to be Billy! For a reader who hasn’t gotten in to my other books, the constant is fast-paced, no (or <5 swear words) and hot but clean. In other words, your grandma could read it and not blush, and you can leave it on the coffee table without fear that your six year old is going read something untowards. As an author, it’s a challenge to write within those parameters, but I enjoy it.

Personally, this cover ranks right up there with my fav covers…and probably because of the guy chosen and double helix, it might even edge out my other favorite covers as the best so far. (wow. do I like this one). This image in the back is actually Ouray, and I’ve uploaded a few other fav Ouray pics to the book listing just so those of you who have never been can take the virtual tour. It is about 5.5 hours drive from Denver, or a short flight into Montrose. In the winter, it’s all about ice climbing in the ravines in the center of town, and in the summer–the four-wheeling as I mentioned. (sorry for the poor quality but they were phone pics:)

Because the cover is so gorgeous, it actually comes out a bit purple in the print version.

Here are the links for all types of devices and purchased preferences.

Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Nobles, Kobo, Scrbd, 24Symbols, Playster, Smashwords

The book is also available at all the major on-line bookstores in ebook version. You can request a library stock order if that’s your preference. I can’t wait to finish the 2nd book.

I liked you better when….

When a person begins a sentence with this line, you know what comes next won’t be pretty. And when it’s from your sister, it’s gonna be downright ugly.

In this case, my sister, the vaunt-of-all-that-is-blunt in my life, tells me this: “I liked you better when you were a blogger, not an author.”

To get this statement in all its humor, the context must be explained. When I was toying around with fiction, I was blogging daily. Sometimes 2-3 times a day. Like many would-be authors, I hid my fear of failure behind the illusion that blogging would make me a better author, dutifully scoffing at all authors, agents and publishers who said this statement as fact. (I later wrote an entire chapter about what stops prospective authors). During this time, my sister, and a whole lotta strangers, had a peek into my life, my personality, warts and all. She loved it and public adored it based on the number of visitors.

Reality, (and change) hit when I saw I’d written over 600 blogs but not completed a single work of fiction. I changed overnight, and my sis (and blog readers) were none too happy about it. The books kept coming, the blog became obsolete, and even my periodic spurts back into blogging are weak. This last year, my final blog was in May, but I completed three additional books. That is what concentration and focus does for an author.

“But you were more fun when you blogged!” she wailed to me just this morning. “People don’t see movies because the movie is that great. It’s because they like the person.” (in a flash, Jet Li came to mind, and I thought–yeah, I like him, his movies are hit and miss, but something about that guy just makes me want to see him).

I do a visual backflip and try to pay attention to what she’s saying. “You’re suggesting people will read my books because they like me?” I ask, but she ignores me.

“Instead of giving away a signed book,” she answers, talking over my last words. “Give away a Valentine’s gift like a mug you use to drink your hot chocolate, filled with the recipe and the ingredients. That’s sooo much more interesting.” Hmm. That might give me the excuse to make more hot chocolate. I’m on board. She then proceeds to give me points on how to improve my just-released newsletter (it’s not even 24 hours old). “Giveaway a print book, sure,” (she barely hides her bored sigh), “but then every month, surprise the newsletter group with something about yourself.” She proceeds to list off a marketing-professionals oft-recited list of monthly holidays…Mother’s Day, Easter, Cinco de Mayo (does that count?), Memorial Day, 4th of July….before you know it, she’s planned out my entire give away schedule…

I relent. She’s probably right. Rabid readers know my publishing schedule better than I do (and I heard about this on Instagram). So sure, I can come up with interesting things that are a part of my life, as she says. Fresh eggs (oooo, sexy), motorcycle gear (hmmm, guys would like that)…French perfume (okay, that’s better)…

“And another thing…” here it comes. “Publish a schedule of what they can expect when.” Now that does resonate. If you’ve read this far, you are dedicated, and yes, are one of those who knows my schedule, and should mentally thank my sister for her suggestions.

Here’s what newsletter recipients can expect:

  • No more than two emails from me a month (unless you are a lucky winner of something)
  • One email is the monthly newsletter, announcing the book giveaway for that month, and any other invites (such as advance copies of a forthcoming book)
  • Second email (mid-month) announces the winner and also a special something (I’ve already forgotten the marketing word she used. rest assured it will be something unique and must pass “the sister test,” first). God love sisters.

After all the advice, she came back around to the topic of why she liked me better, ending on a positive note.

“You know the best part of your newsletter? It wasn’t the new books, blah blah, it was the last section on self-reliance and preparing the home! It was like you were your old-blogger self. That was great! You’re a Dave Ramsey-light. That’s what I mean by your former blogger self. Put that stuff in the front and not the end.”

I made no such promise to her, but I did commit to a) attempting to find some balance in my blogging life and b) if I can’t do that with any consistency, then at least inject myself into my outward communications a bit more (aren’t my snaps of moose and dance songs enough??).

You, and she, will tell me if I’m succeeding.

To subscribe to my newsletter, you will find the link at the bottom of my home page.

It’s true. A newsletter cometh

It’s that time to sign up for my newsletter (scroll to the bottom). You’d think it was time for a serious party, right? Well, if you’re into free things, then yes. Par-tay.

Only after a nice kick in the fanny have I gotten around to creating a newsletter. Problem is, I Instagram. I Facebook (rather unwillingly). I used to blog like a maniac, but took my own advice and substituted actually writing books for blogging. (Only then did I want repeatedly kick myself for investing years…literally yeaaarrrss) blogging when I should have/could have been writing books.

But I digress. Finally, I turned mid-century and found some balance. I love taking pics, thus I Instagram. Instead of investing in Facebook directly, I push a nice little button from IG, that throws the content over to FB. Easy enough. And instead of feeling tethered to a daily or weekly blog, I’ve relegated it to a place where I can come and write missives that give me pleasure (well, the last blog about my hair being pulled didn’t give me pleasure in the moment, but it sure has been funny to think about since).

So where does the newsletter come in? To be truthful, I found myself writing about free things I feel like giving away, like Advance Review Copies, signed books that I can send to a lucky winner (drawn from the newsletter list) and then previewing upcoming books that I otherwise would keep close to my vest. My personal philosophy on newsletters is that they have to be pretty full of value, or why bother?

What my newsletter is not…it’s NOT a list of what I’m reading (borrrrinng), or what my kids are up to, or what cool party I’m attending. Sorry. I can’t stand reading that stuff about other people, (and I rarely attend cool parties) so I’m not going to push it on my readers. If it involves the books I’m writing, what inspires me, answering questions from readers or giving things away, my newsletter is for you.

With that, tomorrow, Thursday, January 31, will be the first distribution. I’ll be pulling from my combined lists (gathered from both my website as well as the opt-in emails taken from Bookcave.com (where one must provide an email to download a free book). The night before, at 12 am, the list will be collated and then the email will go out Thursday morning. If you aren’t on it already, sign up. Unlike some authors, I won’t be posting specials, or calls of ARC readers to the general public. I hope you enjoy it!

Stop pulling my hair

It’s an odd thing, living in Idaho. No where else can I attend a hockey game and have a relative stranger tug my hair. I’m serious. Actually reach out and give my hair tug, like it’s not real.

“Are these extensions?” she asks.

Before I can give an audible reply, I somewhat automatically pull away, but it’s hard. She’s sitting right next to me. I do the next best thing; I attempt to show some grace by laughing it off.

“Yes, as you can probably tell by now,” I say, expecting her to stop pulling. Instead, she moves her hand a little deeper into my hair.

At this point, I’m having an out of body experience. I mean, over the years, I’ve been told I’m rather intimidating, on the phone or in person. Here, in a hockey rink, watching my husband play and with my two girls, I’m suddenly like the pregnant woman who has unwanted foreign fingers touching her belly.

But back to the hair. I realize that my look of “get your hands out of my hair,” is not doing the trick, and I physically take her hand, hold it still and lift up my hair to the roots.

“See? No glue ons.”

Here again, I expect this to suffice. Nope. I must explain the concept of glue ons to this gal, who has a profession that will not be named, but rest assure you, it took an undergrad and graduate degree to get her where she is today, thereby confirming that not all book smart people are street smart, or have class.

All this to say I’m still a bit unsettled by the whole experience, two days later. I like to say it’s a North Idaho thing, where people have no filter, and no sense of boundaries. At least that’s the way I justify these types of situations, which are becoming more normal, not less so (the last time this happened I had a woman at a checkout counter peer at my face, and specifically my eyelashes. Thanks mom and dad. You gave me great eyelashes).

Rog says this is our new normal. Blunt of question and freedom to feel and touch as one chooses. Come visit, if you’d like. Just make sure those extensions are glued in and on real tight.

Video books…the latest thing

I

wish I could sit back like a lot of authors I know and write all day, but I can’t just set aside twenty years of talking. It was what I did for a living…on stage or to the press or to business partners. The writing aspect only happened when I was stuck on bedrest and blessedly received a book deal. So perhaps it’s only fitting that I try to emulate the songwriters who put their music out for all to enjoy on youtube. While authors can’t quite do a music video to a chapter (wouldn’t that be hysterical though?) I did set up my fav chair by my fireplace over the frigid winter months and recorded the unabridged author reading of Made for Me.

So let’s be honest. It was a bit hard, especially when I’m reading sensual parts that are meant to get you a bit hot. When I wrote them, I got hot. ha. But not overly so, because I’m in the genre that’s roasty but not burnt, if you catch my meaning. For the book rating system, that means moderate/adult, less than 10 swear words and not bad ones at that, and no open door sex (you prob didn’t even know this existed, did you? But it does, and it means all the difference between getting into certain channels of bookstores or not). Besides, I may thing about sex in a way that’s normal and nature, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to write it down. I do have daughters after all, and friends….and relatives….

It was also hard when I read emotional/sad parts. When a beloved character dies, I cry, and yes, as a person with feelings, I admit to fearing what commentators might say when seeing/listening to my reading of a scene. But isn’t that the fun part of life? Seeing someone’s raw emotions?

Oh! and if you read my previous blog on cleansing…you are going to notice I was downright Oprah-like. I started out reading when I was a bit pudgy from way too much great winter food. When I looked at the replays, I was mortified. As a woman who still has a bit of vanity and lacking in facelifts or botox, my Swiss/Swedish sharpei tendencies were on full display. Thus, I had a bit of motivation to drop some poundage. As my comfort levels for crying and putting my emotions out there for all to see, the videos became easier to watch (at least in my mind). As a consequence, I like the last 20 chapters (and particularly the last 10) infinitely more so than the first.

Made for Me, recorded in my living room

The audio book version of Made for Me on youtube. Click on the M4M playlist and listen to all 57 chapters.

Because I started the Q & A videos with Chuck on Author Straight Talk at the same time, it’s like this progression of comfort.

Ten episodes of Author Straight Talk, each video focusing on a chapter of the book. Click here for playlist options, select AST and it will loop through continue to each episode. I also included a look for the free ebook on each video commentary. Subscribers get a notification of new videos…

Otherwise, the direct episodes are:

Intro
Episode 1: The Money & Motivation
Episode 2: Finding Inspiration & Dealing with Writer’s Block
Episode 3: Genres & Trends
Episode 4: Social Media
Episode 5: Copyrights & Ownership
Episode 6: The Critical Role of Editing
Episode 7: Getting an Agent
Episode 8: Overcoming Fear
Episode 9: Tools & Time Management
Episode 10: The Process Start to Finish

Cleanse recap: death, diet and determination

In the midst of my cleanse, we left for spring break to the land of cheese and tacos, returned and my father-in-law passed away. This was not the time for a cleanse. It was the time for chocolate.

However, I made up my mind to be strong and stick to my goals, which was purify my mind, body and to the degree possible, my spirit. For the first time in years, it worked. Not sure when it happened, but the reality that the swirling temptations and drama around me did not require that I stuff food in my mouth hit me. The only thing I could control was what I ate, so I focused on being successful at that.

Week 2– I was down 8 pounds (hurrah) but I was tired all the time. The lack of sugar pretty much drained me of energy, and while withdrawal headaches abated, my body wasn’t balanced enough to create it’s own energy. I also have to admit that I started fantasizing about hot chocolate in all the wrong ways. Clearly, I’d created a demon that was alive and well, and showed no signs of leaving. I needed an exorcism.

Week 3-The energy returned and I was down 13 pounds. I hated making food, because really, I wasn’t “making” anything. I was sautéing or juicing, which is akin to not living. I’d make all kinds of great meals for the family (lasagna, spicy meatballs) and looked longingly as I ate my veggies. Creative vegetarian is not my thing, although I do like lots of items (lentil soup, cold salads etc.) I realized that I like big meals, warm food and a main dish that keeps me full for several hours. The thing about “eating clean,” a la fruits and veggies is I’m hungry about every two hours. That in itself is fatiguing. So by the end of week three, I literally didn’t even want to bother with food. That was a blessing and curse.

Week 4– (day 21-24 ish) In Mexico. I’m ultra worried that my whole cleanse is going to be shot, but then I’m so darn proud of myself for sticking with it, I veer towards the veggies everywhere. I allowed myself proteins (eggs) and wouldn’t you know it? I kept all the weight off and felt great the entire time until….

The cheese got me! oh man, did I pay the price. My stomach cramped and ached within thirty minutes. It was like someone gut punched me. That killed my desire for quesedillas. Not one to be stopped however, I started sampling meats. Again, I got hit in the gut plus I felt sick. My system was used to–and appreciating–foods that were, and are, easy to digest.

I came home, all up in my head about my success and what did I do? I lasted exactly five days then went right back to the sauce. I started downing my own concoction of badness (cream, milk, and semi sweet and milk chocolate ghiradelli) because it’s my comfort food. In 10 days I whacked on ten pounds. It was during this time we had the death in the family and I just held on for dear life.

The following downer cycle of depression followed. For those of us on the weight loss/weight gain cycle, it goes like this. Lose weight, feel great, glory in the success by allowing a treat. Then another. Depression leads to more food. Loose clothes get tight. More depression and eating. Pants don’t go up the thigh. More depression. One day, the madness hits the wall like an egg splat and the cycle stops. Veggies and sullenness follow. Slowly, the pants loosen up. The clouds part. Confidence starts to appear like the sun after the rain. Veggies don’t taste so bad.

Now, today (5/21) I’m back to having lost the 8 pounds and have decided that for the sake of my stomach, my energy quotient and overall health, I should pretty much stick with generally clean foods, which comes as a shock to no one. It’s the willpower and determination that’s required to pull it off.

A broken soul & the 28 day cleanse

It’s not often that one reads about having a cracked or “broken soul,” when reading a book about food and wellness, but I did. Me being me, the first time I read this, I dismissed it as I eagerly absorbed the rest of the book’s content. (It could have been the surroundings: poolside, feet beyond the view of the top of the book, and my focus was on looking good rather than feeling good, but I digress). That was six months and two deaths ago. Yesterday, my focus was feeling good, and thus, the broken soul notion jumped out at me.

The book that ended my migraines

If you are following along, it’s found in book two by William Anthony, the Medical Medium. The short story is that at 4, Anthony had a spirit appear that stood by his grandmother, and who aided him in putting his hands on his grandmother’s chest and repeat the words “lung cancer.” The room went quiet, ad the grandmother was so unnerved that the next week she saw the doctor who told her that yes, she did have lung cancer, despite having no symptoms. Spirit, as Anthony calls his guide, has been with him every day of his life, ever since. He’s diagnosed the medical conditions of thousands over the decades, and more importantly, given specific direction for what to eat to heal the body…and soul.

Whether or not you believe the above, I will tell you this: I’d been suffering from severe, debilitating migraines starting a few years and nothing, save serious drugs, helped me out (and I despise even taking an aspirin). To that point, I’d been spoiled. Never so much as had even a menstrual cramp. Well, life changed and no amount of help, both western and non (think homeopathy, herbs, essential oils…changed a thing). Had I been rich and eccentric, I would have visited a shaman in Africa if I thought it would help.

Knowing my desperation, my next door neighbor (a doctor, ironically) tentatively suggested this book and it’s sequel. I read both in the span of about twenty-four hours. The sections are specific, and designed to aid one in self-healing. I looked up migraines, and got the “recipe” for a smoothie and other herbs to take.

The result: my migraine left within an hour. When the next one started to come on, I repeated the concoction. What’s more, as I read about the triggers of unhealthy food (and consequently my bad food intake) I have had only one migraine, and that was because like a rebellious teenager, I willfully and wantonly abused my body.

Back to the soul

The first read-through was six months ago. Last week, I was feeling emotional down, mentally drained and frankly, scraping the bottom of my personal barrel. When you read my sassier blogs, it’s because I have my moments of happy, and that’s when I tend to write…when I’m up, not down. Well, I go back to the book and essentially learn that my soul is aching and my (bad) food intake is exacerbating the problem. This didn’t take me entirely by surprise, but what did was the connection of the (good) energy of the food and how this can literally fill in the gaps/cracks/holes in the soul.

The notion being that God created life. Every living thing has positive energy, particularly food. The specific energy in any given plant or fruit aids a particular part of the body, and the root energy behind it, or the soul. Anthony contends that over a period of time, negative events crack the soul (divorce, death, etc.) and that if not filled with the positive energy (from the best source), then they remain.

Now, I like to think that I’m a normal, highly-functioning person. Yet, as I reflect on my forty years-plus of life, I have to admit that yeah, I probably have some of this ick still in my body….as in, it’s literally in my body in the form of toxins. So, going back to the soul concept, I may have rid myself of the bad spouse, but the toxins may yet reside in my body. When a trigger hits me, then I go for my comfort food, and instead of getting the badness out of me, I am just adding more toxins.

The outcome

At this point, I’m bought in. I’m nodding my head, and think I’ll do anything to feel better at any level. The next chapter is…a cleanse. I am wondering why it took me another six months of pain and punishment to essentially say: Yes, I am worth it and yes, the best thing I can do for myself is get clean and see what happens. (Just so you know, I’ve never, ever, been able to maintain a diet, cleanse or other notion for more than five days. E.V.E.R.).

Day one: fruits and vegies as prescribed by what’s in the book and what’s in my kitchen.

3 main meals with some grazing in between. Easy to manage. My mood goes mellow around 10 am. By 12 I’m starving but the salad and smoothie works wonders. At night, I have the prescribed salad and more fruit but I am sooo tired. My body is shutting down, or so I envision.

2 am. I feel a headache coming on. I knows it’s withdrawal symptoms from the sugar/whatever badness is in my system. I breakdown and take a pain pill because I can tell I’m going to puke if I don’t. Sleep until 4:30 am, and my eyes pop open, and I am wide awake. As in Wide. Awake. I give it up, take a shower, bond with the dog and drink some water.

Day two: I have my water, then my smoothie, but before I hit yoga at 9:30, I’m jittery. I’m not a coffee drinker and am generally very sensitive to caffeine (it triggers headaches) but seriously, I might as well have taken 3 caffiene tablets.

The hour-long class is wonderful until I realize I’m causing the horrific stinking smell that’s surrounding me (GROSS). Nothing like marinating in your own ammonia smell.

Still, I figure “it’s working!!!” That’s good. I just apologize to my fellow classmates and leave as quickly as I can to spare then, and myself.

11 am: I stop by the store, load up on more fruits and veggies and inhale 2 bananas No headaches, still jittery, but feeling really good.

Day 2-4. no issue and I have dropped 7 pounds. Weight loss wasn’t the primary goal (and still isn’t) but it’s nice nonetheless.

Day 5. In the morning I’m fine, but I sense I’m heading for a fall. We got the news my beloved cat is dying of an incurable disease (next blog probably) and we have made the decision to put him down. While I don’t have cravings, I’m unsure how I’ll handle it. The time comes, the deed is done, and around 9 pm, I lose it. I buckle to my trigger go-to of hot chocolate, which is really half-cream, half-milk, and Ghiradelli chocolate. It’s 10:42 pm now, and I don’t feel any better. In fact, I feel worse. ugh. Now I’ll regroup and get back on it again tomorrow.

That’s it, right up present. If you want to join this journey with me, do so. No time like the present. If not, I’ll periodically give an update and you can laugh and cry with me.

 

Men ask questions, Women are silent

Since posting the last blog, what, 72 hours ago, on the tightening effects of Preparation H to the face, I’ve had 4 men reach out to me via Instagram or my blog. Two bikers (as in, motorcycles), a radio executive and an author. Each one basically wrote: “You’re going to go out and buy this stuff?” And generally, my response has been: “Are you kidding? I’m going to take a bath in it.”

The women, on the other hand, have remained silent. As I’m hanging upside down like a bat this morning in sweaty yoga, I’m contemplating why it is that women haven’t made a peep. My conclusion? The women are driving down to the store and getting a few tubes, shaking their heads the whole way, wondering why in the world my mother didn’t raise me to have a bit more shame.

“Better her than me,” is what I imagine to be the common thought. My husband agrees.

“Can you see Nicole Kidman or Reese Witherspoon texting on Instagram the joys of a fanny ointment?” (Truth be told, I had to change a word or two of his quote for obvious reasons).

Yes, I know. Of all the important things to share with the universe, I’m covering this, but as my sister says: “This is life changing! People should know!”

I promise to go back and give more plugs for giveaways, new releases and exercise tips, trying to stick with the five-paragraph rule that seems to be the Holy Grail for bloggers, but it’s hard. My blog is like my invisible friend, the person who’s always there, nodding, agreeing with me, endlessly interested in whatever I write, like any true friend.

And a true friend cares about fannies and faces.

 

The Best Face Ever: A Farmer’s wife tells all

There I am, sitting in one of five barns on the property of a couple who live between a hill and the gully near the lake, when I comment on her age.

“Okay, Robin. You’ve never told me how old you are.” She smiles coyly.

“How old do you think I am?”

“63,” interjects my 12 year told daughter.

“Yeah, about that,” I chime in.

Robin gives us a modest grin. “I’m 74.”

We both exclaim and when enough time has passed that I think it won’t be rude, I ask how she has gotten to her seventh decade with so few wrinkles, for in truth, she has a few around her lip lines, but zero on her cheek, other than a moderate smile line between her mouth and cheek.

Preparation H,” she replies with a straight face. My mouth drops. My eyes widen.

“You are kidding.”

“Nope,” she says without a hint of embarrassment. “I was told forty years ago to use it and I have.”

Mystified, I later ask my husband about it and he nods his head, in a “of course,” kind of way. Apparently, certain ingredients exist within the Prep H that tightens the skin. Seriously.

As any woman determined to look younger for as long as humanly possible, I hit the Internet. Sagging skin and Preparation H I query. Sure enough, up comes an article on Livestrong about tricks to tightening sagging neck skin (always a lovely visual). If you are like me, and hate clicking on all the various links: here’s the skinny, directly from Livestrong.

“Because Preparation H contains Phenylephrine HCl 0.25 percent, a vasoconstrictor drug that causes blood vessels to constrict, it is also a popular remedy for swollen eyes and puffy skin, according to the Preparation H website. However, there are no clinical studies to prove alternative uses for Preparation H. When applied to affected areas, Preparation H forces excess water out of the skin, creating a smooth and lean appearance.”

The article gives four steps to skin greatness.
Step 1: Determine whether Preparation H gives you an allergic reaction, swelling or rash. Apply a small amount to an inconspicuous part of your skin such as the inside of your elbow or behind your knee and leave it on for 15 minutes. Wait at least 24 hours to see if an allergic reaction, swelling or rash appears.
Step 2: Apply Preparation H to smaller areas with your finger or apply with a brush or washcloth to larger areas you wish to appear tighter or more toned.
Step 3: Wait 10-15 minutes and rinse your skin. Reapply Preparation H if you did not achieve the results you want. Rinse thoroughly.
Step 4: Apply lotion to the area you treated with Preparation H to prevent dryness and scaling.
Now, on this last step (and I’ll admit I’ve not yet tried this on my own skin, but when I do, I will show you the results), I use Aquafore about every other night. I have dry skin anyway, but a friend of mine (a plastic surgeon who has worked on half the women in Seattle), said that Aquafore is the go-to product for post-surgical operations. It heals, it hydrates, and it is essentially the miracle skin product. I started using it on my skin, directly after washing it at night, and walla. My skin does look infinitely better…fewer lines, plumper skin etc.
So there you have it. Forget the lift, the tucks and the retinol. Hop right down to the store and buy a tube, ignoring the clerk’s look of sympathetic interest. That’s what I intend to do. What I haven’t yet figured out is what I’m going to say to the person who comments on my face (assuming this works). I can imagine it now:
“Sarah, you look younger. What’s happened? Facelift? Trip to Europe?”
“Oh, nothing like that,” I’ll reply. “I mistook my face for my fanny and this is what happened.”

2nd book in the month of romance….

As I sit here listening to one of my fav sets from ABGT 200, I’m making sure all of you who have been eagerly awaiting the freebie eBook of Destined for You, the 2nd book in the Danielle Grant series. Get it now, as it’s up for the next five days as a download.

Happy reading (and dancing and trancing)….and a Happy Valentine’s tomorrow. For inquiring minds, who think I am married to a man who does outrageous things (like Will Smith famously sending 5,000 roses..), nay. Rog and I have always boycotted V-day out of principle (as in, what about all the other days where we do nice things? Don’t those count)?

So, we go out the day after because the places are empty, and we are, in fact, hungry. Call us kooky, but better deals are always to be had the “day-after” anything, never, ever, the day before.

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