Rosewood Series

Author website/Novelists writings

The Lady

My latest creation.

Anniversary of Birthrights Publishing

I, as usual, have been in ill-health and have not had the time to be posting interesting posts on here, but today, I am somewhat better so here it goes.

I am in the process of writing a special anniversary book, dedicated to Birthright. It’ll be Birthright, but more adult and extremely dark.

Now I know, that when Stephanie Meyer did her novel, marking the anniversary of Twilight, she wrote Twilight all over again, same words and everything, but the only difference was the characters were flipped. Bella was a guy, and Edward a girl and so on, and so forth. I’m sorry to say it wasn’t good, in fact, boring.

I will not be doing that with my novel, marking Birthrights five year anniversary. It’ll show Kane in his true form, pure vampire like the kind you see in Underworld, know of that movie? It’s great if you haven’t seen it.

So, to my fans, I hope you will like this version. If so, please, please, PLEASE, review! In fact, if you have read my whole trilogy, give me a review on here! Just go to the tab marked “Reviews” and leave your review comment.

Also, I”m not sure what to title this special novel, so I’m asking, give me your thoughts. The title that I pick, that person will receive a free copy of it!  So, start sending  in your thoughts for a title!

Burgoo Fest a success!

I know I have been gone for some time from my site, but health issues, plus, a very busy life, has kept me from coming on here and keeping you all up to date.

Yesterday, was Burgoo Fest, in Utica, Illinois. It’s also where my Trilogy takes place. So, I have a huge fan base there who seek me out to get their next copy from…as one refers me to them, ‘their author.’ It was a huge success, bigger than last year, and I’m finding this success satisfying. I know every new author out there wishes their book to become a movie, but I have come to grips with that and know mine will never, but I’m happy just to have a fan base and those loving my writing, but I was confronted with a lady with the question of, “What are my beliefs?”

In this business of book signing, you meet a lot of people, which is the fun part, but then you meet some others that make you wonder. Her question had me baffled. I wasn’t sure if she was meaning belief in Vampires or what? But she soon clarified that the beliefs was in reference to God. Finding it odd that I should be asked such a question, but proudly told her that I believe in God and his son Jesus Christ, but what did this have to do with my books? She wondered why a Christian would be writing about the Dark stuff, and doesn’t that go against my religion?

It was a valid question, but an easy one to answer. I told her my writings have nothing to do with my beliefs. I will always be Christian, I was a Religious Education teacher for eight years, and I am still a Eucharistic Minister to this day. I also told her that what I write is just a hobby.

She seemed receptive to my answer and told me of a friend of hers, that is writing books, but goes through eBay, and wanted to know how to help her go a different route publishing her books. I told her about Createspace, and how it works, and that I have had a successful time with them.

After the event at Burgoo was over, I did some thinking, and that what I write about, Vampires, isn’t against religion. It isn’t Satan, it’s a fictional character. I’m not ‘following’ it, I’m not honoring it, nor am I bowing down to it, I’m just writing stories about it. Now, if I were writing about Satan, which is real, and believing in him and his works, then this woman would be right.

Vampires are fictional, they are a soulless human. Human at one time in their life, made in the likeness of Christ, but made different by a Vampire.

To end this post, I’d just like to say, that what you write, especially if its about paranormal, or other ‘Dark’ creatures, is that you write because it’s your passion. It is your way to give back to those of us who love to read, a place to go to, when the world outside is so difficult and uncaring at times. Write to your hearts content! Write, and live your dreams through your words, and let others enjoy it as well. For it is in our writings, we create a world that is full of wonderful adventures, glorious lands, filled with many creatures, beautiful and ugly.

“Write your dreams.”


I know, as usual, that I haven’t been around, but I’ve been busy getting my third and final book, Kane . . . published! Yes, it is done! You can now purchase it on Amazon, and I also published another book, Rosewood. It is all three books, combined into one.






















It was midnight, as the snow fell in great puffs of white, covering the ground complete.

All was well in the world…except for one little corner of it. A child sat shivering in the wood, holding something that glowed within its hand.

Little light

shine so bright

make me warm

this very night.

Keep me safe

within your glow

till winters cold

hath ceased to blow.”

Yes, I was there, always. The child had no home to speak of, no family that worried of its whereabouts. This child was a product of what this world had become…homeless.

Day in and day out, she would come, the child. Hiding itself amongst the low, lying bushes, seeking shelter from the cold. The light ever present within her hand, speaking the same words over, and over again.

Little light

shine so bright

make me warm

this very night.

Keep me safe

within your glow

till winters cold

hath ceased to blow.”

It wasn’t until the morning, after a harsh winter storm had battered the night, did I see a clump of white snow. As I neared, a small, blue hand stuck out.

Fountain of Youth

Summer . . . the dog days are here. Unpretentiously I sit, while people in their colorful suits of oranges, reds, yellows, and blues splash by, laughing.

I am by myself, always. Does that bother me? No, and then again, at times, yes.

I too, am in my brightest suit, bathing in the warmth that shines down upon me. I am whole. Right in this very spot I am complete. Nothing can bother me, nothing can take this most perfect day away from me.

As I watch, children scream their delights as water rushes forward, surprising their tiny toes. They run about, so carefree. Ah, to be a child once more. Makes me smile to see such enchantments.

Then, there are those, old in age, but happy for it. Some with their families, while others cling to one another as if they were just wed, still. I want to be that happy.

Lifting my face toward the light, eyes closed, I hear nothing now. Only the beat of my heart. It sings, did you know? Such a charming . . . yes, charming tune it is. A smile begins to form.

Summer is the fountain of youth. It can take away what ills you, turn a frown into a glorious smile, and it makes you feel alive. Youthful.

Open Night Mic tomorrow!

Tomorrow at the Joliet Public Library on black road, will be hosting their open mic night! I, as well as, others from the WriteOn Writers group, will be reading their pieces also.

I have chosen two pieces of mine, The Halls of Winterfield and My Inner War, a poem I wrote about what I had endured after my parents died.

Please come out, support us, and just have fun. Buy yourself a hot cup of tea or coffee, or even a sweet treat. Then sit down, relax and listen to some of the greatest writers you’ll ever hear.

It starts at 6:30p.m., so hope to see you all there.

My Inner War

Have you ever felt

like you’re losing your mind,

that people around you were distant,


Or maybe you thought

you’d never be sane,

that life as you knew it,

would not be the


Leaving the house

was a terrible fright,

wrought with emotions

that didn’t feel


Or dreaming bad things,

of bodies broken,

put in bags, words not


Nothing was right,

the day you had died,

I lost my ambition,

all I did was


Medicines helped,

I could live without fear,

live without worry,

live without


It’s a struggle that’s true,

a big battle within,

never seeming to end,

never seeming to


So excuse me I beg,

If I seem not quite well,

I’ve lost my dear parents,

does it show?

Can you tell?


“In loving memory of my parents, David and Irene Eddy.”

I wrote this poem because I don’t believe anyone really knew what a terrible battle I had going on. Even to myself I wasn’t sure what was happening. I only knew that I was scared.

It started when my mother died. I was so grief stricken throughout her ordeal, up until the day she died, that I had gone down to a mere 99 pounds. Was I scared of the weight loss? Yes. I was sick, mentally and physically, that I was off balance, most likely due to the weight loss.

I also was scared to go anywhere far, mostly on vacations. I didn’t know why, couldn’t explain the reason for it, but I pushed it aside and made myself go, but under loads of stress. This was more evident when I decided to go on a canoe trip without my husband and children. I wanted to go, but then my mother wouldn’t be there. You see, it was the annual Eddy Canoe Trip at Balwin, Michigan.

I made myself go, still under much stress. I went with my sister, Patti and my two nieces. I was still filled with loads of anxiety, but I didn’t know that’s what it was. To make a long story short, the next day, I had a flown blown out panic attack, though at the time I had no idea as to what was happening to me, I was just panicking trying to figure out how to calm down, but was failing. It got so bad that I started to hyperventilate, and again, I didn’t know that’s what was happening, until a nurse friend of my sisters, gave me a paper bag and told me to breath into it. That helped the breathing problems.

On the way home, I know my sister was mad at me, I couldn’t function properly,was tired as all get out, but couldn’t sleep. I don’t think she knew what was going on with me, and I couldn’t tell her because I didn’t know myself. I was still jittery and watched a Disney movie to calm down and ate some chicken bouillon.

When my father was diagnosed with the same cancer that my mother had died of five years earlier, I didn’t think I could cope. He was my security blanket, as it were, all during moms death, now here he was dealing with this monster that took my mom.

I had gone back to school in September and told my father about it, which he was pleased as punch, but he’d never would see me get my degree, for he died the next month. I continued to go, but with much hesitation, because I was doing it for him and now he too was gone.

I began to notice that I had to write my address down whenever I got to the parking lot, and I couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t until I was in Abnormal Psychology class, during a movie of a person with multiple personality disorder, did it finally come out. I panicked. I had to get home, and fast.

From that day on, I was scared to death to go even down to the end of my street. I had Agoraphobia, and it stayed with me for a few years. During that time I was put on anti-depressants, which only made me feel worse, and anxiety meds, which helped big time.

It’s been twenty years now, haven’t taken any meds. I do, however, still get bothered by anxiety, but under big stresses. The doctor said my anxiety disorder will never go away, but I can control it, which I have.

I just had to write this, and if any of my family members read it, they’ll finally know what I was dealing with.


Human Servant

I wanted my novel series to be something different than the usual vampire books that are out today. After reading a zillion of them, they all seemed to follow the same theme…girl meets vampire, falls in love, problem starts up between them, happy ending.  I got bored. I tried to read Anne Rice’s Queen of the Damned, but I couldn’t get past the first page.  I find her writing to that of Jane Erye, something that has to be read slowly. Although, I do possess a hard copy of The Interview with a Vampire, to which she signed, I haven’t read that one either, though I have seen the movie…it was ok. Didn’t like the ending.

Anyway, my book does have the male vampire/female human attraction, but its more on the lines that he is profoundly attracted to her, in that, her energy is what giving him the impulses of attraction. She, on the other hand, finds him annoyingly odd, maybe somewhat attracted but doesn’t know why, but mostly…he’s a pain in the ass.

Both my main characters are strong willed, both knocking heads, as it were, yet…the connection between intensifies with each meeting.

No, my vampire doesn’t shimmer in the sunlight, mine is pure vampire, scary at times, other times, wickedly seductive, and he usually gets what he wants, even if she is telling him to go take a hike…which hiking does come into play in my story.

I’ve done research, loads, and decided to use the human servant route in my story. It’s intriguing, brings mystery, as well as, symbolism into it, which I love immensely, whether it be in writing or in paintings, especially Renaissance as in Van Ike. His painting  Portrait of Giovanni Arnolfini and his Wife is chalk full of symbolism, but I could go on and on about Renaissance paintings, love art history.

Here is what I researched into human servants:

There are those humans who have taken to lives with vampires. These humans become the daytime eyes, ears, hands and voices of the master vampire that they serve. To become a human servant four marks must be given to a human by a master vampire. Master vampires are the only ones who have this ability and they can only have one human bound to them at a time. As a result of becoming a human servant, humans gain more power, strength and have a longer life. Human servants are harder to hurt and they heal easier than they previously did. Becoming a servant allows the human to be immune to the voice, mind and glance of the vampire that marked them.
How the marks are given and the result from each mark is explained below. Marking a human is usually a voluntary process but they can be given completely against the human’s will. Until a master vampire gives a human all four marks, any other master vampire may mark the same human.

Interested yet? If so, buy my book Birthright and The Legacy and tell me what you think.

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