No scheduled events. Add an event. Daisha is now friends with Heidi Hurtado. Daisha made a comment in the group Historical Fictionistas — - Introduce Yourself topic. Been neglecting my Goodreads lately and I need to get back into the swing of things. Sometimes it feels so overwhelming. So bea I just want to say hi! So bear with me, I am still figuring it all out on here! Sep 16, PM. Daisha joined the groups Historical Fictionistas and Making Connections. I have been hard at work these last couple of weeks! Time to sit back and enjoy the fruit of my labors! Daisha rated a book really liked it.
Daisha is now following Teresa Jones 's reviews. Daisha is now following. Teresa Jones. Author of Rebecca's Resistance. For The Love Of Books! Let's have fun contests and blog hops togeth This group is for readers of all kinds to discuss what they read and talk about the characters they love.
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Let's have fun contests and blog hops together! For the love of books, join now! Readers enjoy all the great deals! This is a place for Authors, Bloggers, Publishers, Reviewers, Book Tours, Giveaways, and Interviews to make connections, find followers, ask for help with Blog Tours, Interviews, or just need some help with your blog. Historical Fictionistas — members — last activity 2 hours, 43 min ago Welcome to Historical Fictionistas! We want to experience all different kinds of HF with all different kinds of people.
The more diverse, the better. Welcome to Historical Fictionistas! If you're looking to expand your HF horizons, you've come to the right place. It has a soft composition so it quickly bends to your style of magic. It loves you. This wand would not choose someone with a dark tendency.
It sees light and love within you, and a fierce loyalty. Perhaps that will be a guiding light for you as you come into yourself. Libby felt as if she had just taken the very first breath of her entire life. She never wanted to let go and felt like she would revert to her old self so she refused to repackage the wand. Not that she had seen many, but it was so electrifying, it made all the hairs on her body stand at attention. Satisfied with keeping the wand in her robe pocket, she slipped it right inside.
It was like watching a butterfly in science class come out of its cocoon. Libby thought she certainly felt like the butterfly, once being restrained now being set free.
Almost like a rebirth, a new start. Libby put it in one of her other bags and they started toward yet another shop in search of a cauldron. A young man trailed by two others strode up the street and Libby thought he had intention plastered over his pale face and was accentuated by his nearly white, albino hair. A sneer formed over his mouth and Harry changed course down the sidewalk.
The white headed boy changed his course to match, coming straight for them. Harry turned to face the young man. Knockturn Alley is the other way!
The sneer turned into a spiteful grin. It was nice to bump into you, Potter.
Former Aspen journalist’s new book targets ski industry
The boy instantly turned his eyes to her. She struggled to hold onto that wonderful feeling she felt in holding her wand the first time. And yes, she is a first year. It would explain why Granger here feels the need to protect you and speak for you. She pulls the strings and you all do exactly what she wants you to.
As long as you are with her, you will never think for yourself. Anger overcame Libby and she stepped closer, her hand on her wand for strength. Now go away and leave us alone! Draco took one step back and looked at her in surprise, almost horror even. How did you get into Hogwarts when you are American? No accent, no manners… My father will hear about this, mark my words!
And with that, Draco turned on his heel and continued down the road toward The Leaky Cauldron with his henchmen on his tail. The anger lifted from Libby and she let go of her wand once again, her breath coming quickly and her hands and knees shaking violently. Hermione snorted. Definitely not worth your energy to hate him.
Pay him no mind. No one spoke for a moment. Harry cleared his throat. Some witches and wizards feel that they have no place in the magical world. I do not, however. Hermione smiled. I however, do not. Within just a few minutes they had finished the list down to just choosing what animal Libby wanted to take with her, if she so desired.
Hermione stepped closer to her and her very knowledgeable voice turned on. An owl is good for sending messages though. And I have no idea why anyone would want to have a toad. I mean really! They have more to them than just delivering letters. So they really are the most versatile pet to bring with you.
It depends on who you talk to because Ron would tell you that cats are the devil, right Hermione? Hermione scowled at him. Sitting regally upon a perch was an owl cloaked in feathers the color of rust with bright yellow eyes wide and black talons. She looked right at Libby and made that instant connection.
Harry beamed beside her. Libby entered the shop, it was dank and cool inside with obvious splats of bird excrement covering every surface. The handler placed the red owl in a vintage looking wire cage and Libby handed over the coins in return. How can I just stay here? Maybe we will find out something about your family or even find your magical family. Today seemed like a great day to find an entry that fits.
As some of you know, I have spent the last couple of months moving from one state to another. Here in my new home, the mountains above me are changing color and the canyon I drive through to work each day is showing signs that fall is here. Happy Fall! This was freedom for a handful of people before my father was even born. This was where my father fell deeply in love with my mama, where the visions of his future with her took root. I sit here beneath a sweet smelling tree and close my eyes to the pain and frustration of being here and I try to imagine a time when my father smiled and spoke words of adoration to his Lyndsay.
I try to hear the sound of her laughter and I wonder if she was as docile as a young woman as she was when I left her side. I like to think she had some sass to her, a mind all her own. And now, I shed my cloak of duty and see this place through child-like eyes where I can appreciate the unique colors of the leaves surrounding me: the gold and yellow hues, the reds, browns, and oranges that have dropped over all the leaves on the trees, as if the sprites had been hard at work painting a masterpiece for the world.
Here, beside the sea, there are few days of sunshine. But to feel that occasional beam on my face makes me smile and to breathe in that crisp, sweet air that blends with the brine of the sea, fills my body with comfort and hope before I puff it out in a cloud of smoke from my mouth. The Autumn Splendor shows me that there is always hope. That all things are temporary. Everything changes constantly. I need to take comfort in that knowledge. They are short supplemental readings that expand on a certain story from The Aspen Series.
There are two more installments about Vatric and Lyndsay to go! They will go live on the first of the next two months! And on a side note, if you have not yet read Noble Courage, the first of the Aspen Series, you have a couple of options: A. Download from Amazon for. Either way, you get a full novel to read, to love, and to enjoy. I decided to price it lower because it was the first in the series and I love my readers. So how can you give me some love? Read the books, leave me your thoughts, and be a part of my club. I love to stay in touch with my biggest fans! And the greatest compliment to my work would be to share it with someone you know.
Thanks for the love! So I spent the last week watching the whole Harry Potter series again. But I found out something this week… Harry Potter motivates me. He is a muse of sorts that encourages me to create and write. This week, magic happened. And so I woke up yesterday feeling compelled to write myself into the amazing world of Harry Potter. I found it to be almost more therapeutic than writing my own stories in my own worlds. To escape to another world for a while is pure magic in itself.
I felt just as lost through writing it as I would have being thrown into it. The few hours of make believe were very good for me today and the drinking of homemade Butterbeer set the mood. But I hope you can relate to Libby. I think most of us have a little Libby inside. Life is a curious thing. Most of the time, when you most want something it never happens. Sometimes, it will surprise you and magic happens. There was such a time for Libby Archibald. Not because it was hot and ice cream was best eaten when it was hot, but because she could be outside and escape the confining walls of her house.
Every year, the Archibald family traveled several hours to a special place in the mountains and it was here that Libby felt alive. The smell of the pine trees, the fresh air, and the sound of the lake lapping at the shore brought her a sense of peace. A whole year of fighting her way through life was kindly rewarded with one week in the small town of McCall. And so Libby crossed the busy main street that ran close to the water, her family was lazing about on the warm, sandy beach or swimming in the shallow waters close to their vacation rental.
She was bored and they were occupied with spreading suntan lotion over their arms and legs. Now, she was walking beneath the eaves that cast the sidewalk in shadow. A breeze blowing in from the water made the shade feel cool as Libby made a left turn between the coffee shop and the souvenir store. It was a narrow passage partially blocked by a staircase in the alley and reminded her of some secret place.
Starting down the short pathway, the gravel crunching beneath her flip flops, Libby took her time staring at the brick wall on the left, the names on all the bricks fascinating her. She always wanted to scratch her name on one too, but it appeared that all the bricks were used up with other names. There were several Makenzies and many Mikes but nowhere did she see her name.
That was one thing Libby really hated; her name was never found on anything but vegetable cans. Sometimes she wished her name was Sarah or Mary so she could be ordinary and fit in. Two bigger kids, probably a girlfriend and a boyfriend, walked by with cups of the creamy goodness that only Ice Cream Alley could offer. Comments such as that one were not new to Libby. Being the oldest of the four children in a very strict household, she was often made an example to her siblings by her father.
Rounding the corner, there was a line of about ten people waiting to get their hands on the cold ice cream in nearly every flavor imaginable. Nearly every table was full of people, some in shorts and some in swimsuits, umbrellas were unfolded overhead for a bit of shade.
There were a few small children sitting on a bench swing that were screeching in fun, ice cream rings surrounding their lips in the various colors of the flavors they chose. If that was her trying to have fun, he would have walked right up to her and thumped her in the back of her head or he might even grab those tiny hairs at the base of her neck and twist them enough to bring tears to her eyes and force her to just sit quietly. It was the pleasure she felt in these moments, when she was by herself and could breathe without fear of wrongdoing.
Yes, these moments made it all worth while. It was time away from her very annoying family, it was time away from the horrid kids at school that teased her mercilessly, and it was time spent getting to know who she really was. You see, Libby was shy and quite backward. Some viewed this as rude. For Libby, it was a defense mechanism.
It was safe just to be quiet. Rarely could you get Libby to make eye contact with you because she knew others would see the story she held behind her eyes that had recently changed from light blue to a beautiful shade of green. This girl was down right skinny with knobby knees and elbows and crooked teeth. Libby would look at her sister with the pretty blonde strands that flowed perfectly to her shoulders and felt jealousy that Adrianna looked like a girl and she herself looked like a boy. The kids at school were cruel and asked her why she looked like a boy.
They poked such fun at her expense when she spent time with her friends that were girls, that Libby stopped making friends at all. In time, even her old friends started calling her a name that brought tears to her eyes every time. Monkey Girl was what they would chant behind her during the walk home from school. Granted, Libby was cursed with hairy arms and legs that her mother said she would grow out of. But Libby hated it and. Absently, Libby ran her hands over her arms self-consciously and stepped forward in the line. It was almost her turn.
She could almost feel the icy goodness running down her throat. It was getting hot. An odd place on the brick wall stood out to Libby. The bricks were arranged in a different pattern and the cement was thicker around them. All the people, it seemed, never looked up and saw it. They just went on as though nothing was out of the ordinary.
Like they were blind to the different pattern. Libby wondered a moment why the wall got no attention for being odd but she got more than her share. Where was the justice in that? Shyly, Libby stepped forward and barely peered over the counter, she was so short for her eleven years. Libby sauntered around the corner to wait for her delightful concoction of chocolate, almonds, and marshmallows.
A couple behind her at a smaller table stood up to leave and so she decided to take that place for herself. It was almost directly below the imperfect bricks she had noticed just moments before. Another gal bellowed out that the Rocky Road was up so Libby hurriedly grabbed it, a spoon and a napkin, returning to the table she had claimed. Her eyes closed as the heavenly explosion happened in her mouth as the first bite of some of the best Rocky Road ice cream danced on her tastebuds. It was smooth and cold, the marshmallows were fluffy on her tongue.
She gave a slight grin and reopened her eyes. She scanned the crowd for her father before she picked up a pebble and tossed it up to hit the rebellious pattern in the brick wall. Missing her target, she tried again and her pebble found one of the lower bricks.
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She gave a chuckle and grabbed an arsenal of rocks throwing them one at a time, each connecting solidly. Libby was just about to throw another when she noticed the wall starting to move. She sat upright in her chair and stared in disbelief as the wall began to rip open and she could see a room on the other side. Libby tore her eyes from the sight and glanced around to see if anyone else was witnessing this incredible phenomenon.
No one was paying attention. No one cared. No, no one was watching Libby and the ripped open brick wall. Cautiously, she stood and walked the four steps to the opening where she peered inside. No one in the dingy room ahead seemed to notice her either. It was dark in there with weathered wood walls, plank floors and lanterns for lights. There was no music and tones felt hushed without stepping foot in there.
Casting a quick backward glance, her heart beating wildly in her chest, Libby took a chance. For the first time in her young life, she stepped forward out of everything she had ever known and stepped into a world so foreign it frightened her. Once both feet were firmly planted in the strange place on the other side of the bricks, the wall knitted itself back together until it was just as before. It was solid. There was nowhere to go but forward. Libby slowly turned around and tried to slow her breathing. She forced herself to swallow hard and soaked up her surroundings. The room looked to be a restaurant or a bar of some kind with several tables and chairs and a long bar area with a large man standing behind the counter, a white apron tied around his waist and a towel thrown over his shoulder.
There were a few people at tables and as she walked through the small establishment, she saw three young people talking quietly at a table in the corner. From their hairstyles, she guessed it was two boys and a girl. All had dark clothes on, coats of sorts with hoods. One had dark disheveled hair, one bright red that stood out, and the girl looked to have frizzy hair that fell just past her shoulders.
The dark headed boy happened to cast his glance beyond his red-headed friend before him and he narrowed his eyes behind round spectacles to look right at Libby. He muttered something and stood, the other two twisting in their seats looking on curiously. My name is Harry, this is Ron and Hermione. What is your name?
You have the same look on your face I did a couple of years ago. Not knowing what else to do, Libby sat and Hermione went to order one more Butterbeer for their table. Libby nodded her head. How do you know? That is what makes up storybooks and movies. And Disneyland. Why would you trust those kind of people to tell you who you are? Libby sat silent a moment, not sure how to explain to this boy that magic was just fantasy…make believe.
She was just Libby. So she decided to change the subject. You stand out quite a lot. Libby unfolded the gift and discovered that it was the same kind of cloak the others were wearing. As she flung it around her shoulders, it was easy to notice that Hermione was right. Her pink pants and yellow shirt with pink stars were like sunshine in a cave. She definitely looked out of place…a misfit. The funny thing about it was that she looked like everyone else in her own world and was treated like the outcast.
Here in a completely foreign world, she looked like the misfit but was treated like she was the same as everyone else. One minute I was eating ice cream and the next there was a huge hole in the wall that brought me here. Why am I here? So how old are you? An awkward silence wound around the four young people and they all grabbed their mugs to gulp at the sweet, frothy Butterbeer. This is a most curious situation. A girl ran in, catching her breath she placed her hands on her knees. Ginny stood upright and squinted her eyes at him. You are both the same age.
Best not keep mum waiting! They all said their goodbyes to Ron and Ginny and made to set off in search of someone who could give them some answers. Thank you to all of you that spent the week with Aspen and I! You made it quite a fun event! You have until the clock strikes midnight to get your entries in on all the Facebook games!
Okay, I promised a sneak peek of this last book. I have been working on it but still have a ways to go. War is brewing and lives are changing! Here you go!
Frog shrieked again as loud as his lungs would scream and tried with all his might to remove his hand from the rope holding him. He is always watching you! Forest Service has become partners with the ski industry instead of regulators guarding public lands and how ski areas are trampling the environment? But Aspen showed many other players in the industry how much money was out there and how much money was interested in the lifestyle. And he hopes people in Aspen and other ski towns will read the book to gain a better understanding of what is happening in the industry.
And the power of the big three ski companies is in their ability to set the pace in the ski industry. A busy free-lance writer, Clifford has recently decided to get a real job, signing on as the executive director of the MountainFilm festival and tour in Telluride. Clifford will be in Aspen on Nov.