Welcome Marcia Meara with The Emissary #Series

Welcome Marcia Meara to Entertaining Stories. Marcia is one of my partners over at Story Empire. She’s hosted my book tours, and it’s time to repay the favor. She’s here to tell us about her Emissary Series, specifically book three of the series. Make her feel welcome, and please use those sharing buttons on your way out today.

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Thanks so much for having me here today, Craig. I can’t tell you how happy I am to be visiting you and sharing a bit about my newest release, The Emissary 3: Love Hurts. This is the final novella in the trilogy, and I hope your friends and followers will enjoy the excerpt I’m going to share. I know this one will make the post a wee bit longer than I’ve kept them on this tour, but as the final stop, I wanted to introduce folks to Azrael in a more personal way. The scene takes place in a hospital room where Jake has just broken one of Azrael’s most important rules. He used his emissarial power to convince an ill-tempered nurse not to throw them out of the room where they’ve been keeping watch over someone of importance to his adopted son, Dodger. He fully expected the archangel to be angry, but he’s still caught off guard when the Boss shows up—unannounced, as usual. Hope you’ll enjoy the interplay between the three main characters in this series. Here goes:

A Sleeping Patient, Two Scared Emissaries,

And a Ginormous, White-Winged Archangel,

Crowded into One Tension-Filled Hospital Room.

JAKE SCRAMBLED TO his feet, but it was Dodger whose urgent whisper addressed the scowling angel.

“Azrael, please don’t be upset! He was only tryin’ to help me.”

The angel’s expression didn’t change. “I am aware of what he was trying to do, young emissary. What I fail to comprehend is why he used his power on the nurse instead of on you.” His fierce gaze swung to Jake. “Did you not even consider that option?”

“Not for a single second. Play mind games with my son? Only if his life were in danger would I ever consider something like that.”

Azrael’s eyes glowed brighter and his frown grew deeper, but Jake plowed ahead. “It wouldn’t have solved the problem, anyway. Maybe Dodger would have calmed down, but we’d still have been forced to leave this young lady alone, and neither of us was prepared to do that.”

For a moment, the angel said nothing, then to Jake’s surprise, he nodded. “Yes. I can see that would not have worked for either of you. But what you did was unacceptable. Such a thing is against every precept of the emissary program. You have been granted powers no human has ever had before, but you must never forget that with them comes great responsibility. You may not nudge people simply because you would like your wishes accommodated. I am sure you see the wisdom of enforcing this rule, do you not?”

Jake’s heart sank. “Enforcing? So I’m to be punished for this infraction.”

Dodger’s anger level skyrocketed at least ten degrees. “Not fair, man! Jake’s a great emissary. He never messes up, and you need to cut him some slack this time.”

Azrael’s eyebrows shot up. “I beg to differ. I do not need to do any such thing. I have a job before me, just as you do, and rule enforcement is part of it. Let us not forget that I am, as you both like to remind me, the Boss. Enforcing the rules is not only my job, it is my sacred responsibility. Are we quite clear on that?”

Jake’s shoulders slumped and even Dodger nodded, finally cowed by the nearly visible emanations of power radiating from the archangel.

“What was that? I am sorry. I do not believe I heard an actual response from either of you.”

“Yes, Azrael,” they said in near unison.

“We understand,” Jake added. “And I’m sorry I upset you. I accept whatever punishment you think suitable, and whatever advice you’d like to add.”

The angel looked back and forth between them a moment longer, then nodded. “That is more like it. I shall commence with your punishment.”

Jake took an involuntary step back, remembering the huge sword the angel had wielded when they first met.

Instead of an instrument useful for all manner of smiting, Azrael reached inside his robe and withdrew a book bound in white leather. He opened the cover, flipping through a few pagesuntil he found what he was looking for.

“Ah-ha. Here we are.” He pulled a long, white quill out of the air, made a notation inside the book, then snapped the covers shut. “Done.”

For a moment, Jake was too surprised to speak. The same was not true of Dodger.

“Wait.” The boy cocked his head to the side. “That’s it?”

“Do not be cavalier young emissary. Each one of you has a book like this, wherein a permanent record, both good and bad, is detailed for all time. This is Jake’s, and I assure you, it is no small matter for him to acquire a black mark beside his name. Henceforth, I would highly recommend you both follow the rules you have been given. The day will come when a tally will be made.”

Though the archangel had drawn himself up to his full and imposing height to deliver this proclamation, his glowy eyes no longer gleamed in righteous indignation. A corner of the angel’s mouth lifted slightly as he slid the white book back inside his robes, and Jake knew he’d gotten off lucky.

Buy Link for TE3

Buy The Emissary 3: Love Hurts HERE

Blurb:

The archangel created his emissaries to help mortals avoid choices that would doom them for eternity. He hadn’t planned on the youngest member of his team falling in love with one.

~~~

Azrael’s emissarial program was growing daily, but it still met with stubborn opposition from many on the Council of Angels. Dodger’s request to be allowed to experience what falling in love was all about didn’t help matters, but Azrael thought the boy was onto something. He agreed emissaries who’d shared a loving relationship during their mortal lives would have a deeper understanding of human emotions and motivations, thus enhancing the skills they needed to do their jobs.

With that in mind, Azrael gave Dodger one chance to search for true love. He then laid down a daunting set of stringent rules and guidelines that could not be broken under any circumstances lest dire happenings occur. But while the angel sincerely hoped Dodger would find a way to make this endeavor work, he feared an avalanche of unintended consequences could be in store for his youngest emissary.

Sometimes even angels hate to be right.

~~~

Will Azrael ever tire of popping up behind Jake just to see his first emissary fall out of his chair in shock? Will sharp-eyed motel owners ever notice a big red and white semi mysteriously appearing and disappearing from their parking lots overnight? And will Dodger be able to track down the mystery girl who caught his eye two weeks earlier to see if she’s really The One?

To find the answers to these and other angelic or emissarial questions, come along on one last adventure with Jake, Dodger, and that ginormous, glowy-eyed archangel, Azrael. They’re waiting for you!

Bio:

Marcia Meara lives in central Florida, just north of Orlando, with her husband of over thirty years and four big, spoiled cats.

When not writing or blogging, she spends her time gardening, and enjoying the surprising amount of wildlife that manages to make a home in her suburban yard. She enjoys nature. Really, really enjoys it. All of it! Well, almost all of it, anyway. From birds, to furry critters, to her very favorites, snakes. The exception would be spiders, which she truly loathes, convinced that anything with eight hairy legs is surely up to no good. She does not, however, kill spiders anymore, since she knows they have their place in the world. Besides, her husband now handles her Arachnid Catch and Release Program, and she’s good with that.

Spiders aside, the one thing Marcia would like to tell each of her readers is that it’s never too late to make your dreams come true. If, at the age of 69, she could write and publish her first book (and thus fulfill 64 years of longing to do that very thing), you can make your own dreams a reality, too. Go for it! What have you got to lose?

Contact & Buy Links

CONTACT MARCIA HERE

marciameara16@gmail.com

The Write Stuff

Pinterest

Twitter: @marciameara

Find Marcia’s Books Here:

MARCIA’S AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE

Secrets of a Handbag, on #LisaBurtonRadio

Don’t touch that dial! You’ve landed on Lisa Burton Radio, the only show that brings you interviews with the characters you love. I’m your host, Lisa the robot girl, and my special guest today is Elisa’s handbag. Wait. Is that right? Are you on the line?

“Yes, here I am. Thank you for hosting me on your show. It’s not every day that an object has the chance to speak her mind.”

“Welcome to the show. Are you, in fact, a handbag?”

“As strange as it may seem, I am a handbag. Elisa’s handbag. I’ve been with her for many years now since her grandmother gave me to her for her birthday. I think very highly of my owner. She treats me very well, and in exchange I strive to protect her belongings. At least, she used to treat me very well, until she forgot me on the bus.”

“I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

“Yes, thank you. Now, I’m fine. But it’s been an awful adventure for me, tossed around on the bus by one of those careless drivers. I thought all was lost for me. I already saw myself forgotten on a shelf of some lost-and-found forever. Or in some criminal’s den emptied of my content.”

“That’s terrible. A woman has to be pretty distracted to lose a handbag.”

“Oh, Elisa can be a very organized sort of person when she puts her mind at it. When it comes to her job at Palmieri’s Bookstore, for instance, she is very efficient. She makes list of tasks and is perfectly able of performing several tasks at once. In the rest of her life however…

“Well, her studies are a muddled mess of abandoned lecture notes. I’m not sure she will ever go back to University and get her degree, and that’s a pity. She was such a promising student when I met her.

“But what worries me the most is her private life. Her relationship with her boyfriend is taking a turn I don’t like. Especially since the day she left me on the bus.”

“But, you got rescued, not robbed, so that’s a good thing.”

“That’s definitely a good thing. Now I’m in a safe place and, even if I was scared at first, the guy who found me seems a really good guy. His name his Diego and, from what I gathered, he does some kind of job at the Chemistry Department. At first, I was scared. You know the stories they told about mad scientists and all that. But he didn’t do anything untoward. For now.

“I still have to spend some time with him, because it seems Elisa didn’t write her number anywhere. I hope he finds the time to bring me back to her home, but between his experiments, his supervisor’s demands and his ex-girlfriend I don’t know when it will be.”

“They both sound kind of distracted to me.”

“They both have many things on their minds, that’s for sure. But from what I saw, Diego is different from Elisa. He is so rational and calm, always trying to find the best solution for every situation. Elisa instead is more a… go-with-your-gut sort of girl and this puts her in awkward situations. In a way, I think they could complement each other quite well, If you get my meaning.”

“Oh! You little matchmaker you. That’s so cute. What do you have planned?”

“In truth, I can do very little but watch. And that’s a pity because if I could do something more they’ll get a piece of my mind. Anyway, I fear they’ll have to get by by themselves. And it’s not going to be easy. There are a few people who won’t look kindly upon their friendship.”

“Who could object to such a good guy?”

“Well, Elisa’s boyfriend, for one thing. Marco wants to keep Elisa all for himself and doesn’t take interferences well. And Elisa’s friends from University. They’d probably think Diego is not at their level.”

“So, you have team Elisa, with a possible angry boyfriend. If they’re really on her side, wouldn’t they eventually figure out that Diego is good for her?”

“Hope so…even if I’m not sure which side they are on. Then there’s Diego’s ex. I haven’t met her, but she seems pretty determined to have Diego back.”

“Adults seem to have baggage, no offense intended. You might not be able to do much about her.”

“Honestly, now my main concern is getting back to Elisa. I can’t wait to be with her again. I don’t know how she is coping without me. I contain most of her life, and she absolutely needs me. I’m not sure you can understand. Do you know what it means to be the constant companion of someone’s life and then be torn away from her? Probably Elisa needs me more than she knows.”

“We all wish you the best of luck, both in getting home, and helping Elisa find the right focus in her life.

“You can read all about Elisa, her handbag, and Diego in the book “Secrets of a Handbag,” by Irene Aprile. I’ll share all the details on the blog later.

“Don’t forget to use those sharing buttons today. I’m sure Irene and the handbag would do it for you when you’re character appears on the next Lisa Burton Radio.”

***

Blurb

What if your handbag could talk?

What kind of secrets would she reveal?

What shameful truths would surface from its recesses?

What if a stranger found it; how would they look at it?

And if the handbag is very opinionated, things may become even more complicated.

When Elisa—student and bookseller—leaves her handbag on the bus, her life takes a dramatic turn. The handbag holds every aspect of her life, and without it, she can barely manage even the simplest of tasks.

Diego, a pragmatic, no-nonsense chemist who dislikes complications, finds Elisa’s handbag. He couldn’t be more different from Elisa and can’t wait to return the handbag to its owner so he can go back to his life.

When Elisa and Diego meet, however, things don’t go as planned. And while Diego tries to keep his distance, everyone (the handbag included) seems determined to put Elisa on his path again and again.

The only ones who don’t seem to agree are Lorena—Diego’s ex-girlfriend—and Marco—aspiring journalist and Elisa’s boyfriend…

Buy links: https://www.amazon.com/Secrets-Handbag-Amazing-Objects-Book-ebook/dp/B07XFQM3CV/

Author Bio

Irene Aprile is a chemist at day and a writer at night (or early in the morning). She is 31, but her brain refuses to accept she is more than 25.

She has been writing since she was a child, but she started to get real with it recently. When she doesn’t work and doesn’t write, she reads novels, translates novels, thinks about novels. She loves spending time with her family and binge-watching TV series with her husband; she likes to travel (but nothing too adventurous), she adores Christmas and chocolate in every form.

Info

Website: https://www.ireneaprile.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/IreneAprile

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ireneaprilewriter/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14678164.Irene_Aprile

Newsletter Sign-up: http://eepurl.com/QiPGz

Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B075R3XJMJ

Buy links: https://www.amazon.com/Secrets-Handbag-Amazing-Objects-Book-ebook/dp/B07XFQM3CV/

Macabre Macaroni

Our Secret Lives

All of us have things in our lives we never discuss. Despite the age of the selfie, we might go somewhere, or do something, we don’t want to be judged for. When it comes to dreams, the sky’s the limit.

We never really remember our dreams. Bits and pieces, of course, but that’s a side of life we never understand fully. What if some of our nocturnal activities were real? What if we just didn’t remember after we awoke? Studies of sleep walkers and others show this is possible too.

Then there is the case of Lauren. Thirty-one years old, left wing liberal, vegetarian. She’s been married to her wife Tina for the last five years, lives in a quiet little house with solar panels on the roof. Tina is an international flight attendant, complete with insurance and benefits. Lauren owns an old nursery. Together they make a comfortable living.

🌑🌒🌓🌔

Lauren parked her Prius under the carport and headed inside. She pulled her rubber boots off at the door. “Smells wonderful. Do you have time to eat before you go?”

Tina poked her head around the doorframe. “Not tonight. Thought you’d be home sooner. I’m off to Denver, Seattle, and Tokyo.”

“I got another offer from that developer, Steve Roper. I tossed it in the car to read when I got here, but couldn’t help myself. By the time I read it, traffic got ahead of me.” She walked into the kitchen.

Tina tucked one of the blonde dreadlocks behind Lauren’s ear and handed her a glass of wine. “There’s roasted eggplant and some parsnips in the oven. What’s he proposing this time?”

“It’s a lot of money, but I can’t sell Dad’s old nursery, I just can’t. Besides, luxury condos isn’t what this city needs. We need a place for the homeless. We need affordable housing. Even one of those tiny housing communities would help.”

“I know, right? Look, you’ll have to text me the rest. My Uber is here, and I really have to go.” Tina extended the handle on her bag and wheeled it toward the door. “I’ll be back in four days, and we can talk about it then. For now, I can text. Bye.”

Lauren carried her supper out to the back patio, along with the bottle of wine. It was a small yard, but lush with plant-life from the nursery. Birds trilled as the sun started down. She picked at the food, but abandoned it in favor of the wine.

🌑🌒🌓🌕

“I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with that woman,” Steve Roper said to the men at his country club. “I’m offering her more than the property’s worth, and I threw in a position as our landscaper; with benefits. I verbally offered her a small flower shop on the main floor too.”

“I don’t see how she can hold out much longer,” Everett Hosmer said. “As downtown grows, there are less customers for a small nursery. People won’t drive by perfectly good nurseries in the suburbs to visit her.”

“I know, but she seems to miss that point. I need her corner for the entrance to the whole project. We have our timing too, Everett. If Crandleburg breaks ground first, we’re going to be playing catch-up. I don’t want to deal with all those early-bird discounts and free upgrades. Donnie builds a good project, and I don’t want him beating us to the punch again.”

“Maybe you ought to have something to eat. She may come around by Monday. You’ve been drinking, and things might look better in the morning.”

“I intend to do a lot more drinking first, and I’m not hungry.” He walked behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of Talisker. “Put it on my tab. I’m going to walk the grounds and take in the night air. Tell Cici to take the car home, and I’ll find a ride later.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I really hate that nursery woman, and need to flush her out of my mind.” He headed out onto the golf course.

The call of an owl came from Driscoll Park. The country club bordered a huge state park with tall pines, camp sites, and volleyball courts. The far side of the park bordered a reservoir that drew people on the weekends. Steve occasionally saw deer on the back nine, and ambled that direction.

🌒🌓🌔🌕

Lauren was sound asleep on her lounge chair when the moon crept over the trees. The light in its full configuration landed on her like a spotlight. The transformation started as hair, beautiful silvery tipped fur covered her from head to toe. Her feet extended, and claws grew from her toes.

Her sinuses expanded and lengthened. Her ears migrated and took on canine shape. The smell of the birds that sung her to sleep filled her nostrils. She rolled off the lounge, spread her toes, and stretched with her butt in the air. Fangs glistened in the moonlight as she yawned.

She scratched behind her ear and took in the local scents. Once fully oriented, she trotted around the house and peered around the Prius. She ducked down, as she was nearly as tall as the car now. It was late, and the residential streets were empty.

She trotted off toward Driscoll Park. The lakeshore was empty now, but a few embers glowed where water-skiers had abandoned campfires. She went through the campgrounds, sniffing at tents. The hunger hadn’t landed yet, and she had other goals before hunting.

She loped off into the forest, and headed for the large stone outcrop. A lone howl reverberated through the trees. She wagged her tail and headed toward the sound.

He waited beside a gigantic ponderosa log that fell fifty years ago. He remained in the shadows, but the tips of his black fur stuck up in the moonlight. Nobody would have noticed him, but there was no fooling Lauren’s nose. He trotted down the hill toward her.

She wagged her tail, and rubbed her shoulder in a patch of wild sunflowers. Eventually turning onto her back and rolling in them. He sniffed her and wagged his tail. She licked his face. He smelled of whisky, but the alcohol had no effect on this form. He jumped playfully over the top of her, crouched and leaped again. She met him mid-jump, and they frolicked in the moonlight.

Once their meeting was over, they got down to business. There were homeless people below the dam, an up-scale event near the band shell in the city park. One of these would provide a nice meal, then they could lick each other clean and cuddle the night away. If those familiar hunting grounds failed them, the tenters weren’t going anywhere, even if they were too close to home. The lunar cycle would provide them with three nights of bliss, hunting, gorging, and mating.

Meet Natalie Ducey #RRBC

As part of the Rave Reviews Book Club, I occasionally get to host authors on their spotlight tours. The most supportive authors are chosen for this spot, and Natalie is a super supporter. I want you guys to give her a warm welcome, and don’t be afraid to use those sharing buttons at the bottom.

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Thank you for joining me today on this fourth day of the “Spotlight” tour!

Today, I’d love to share an extension of my poetry that is very near and dear to my heart.

When passion and purpose collide.
Did you know that the simple act of piecing together a jigsaw puzzle can offer therapeutic benefits? It can, and the promising findings were impossible to ignore. While stimulating the brain, it also acts as a form of meditation, allowing the mind to relax. This simultaneous action has shown promising findings for people living with dementia, and can be a valuable source of reprieve for individuals living and coping with mental illness, including PTSD.

My twin sister (Nicole) and I are both proud wives of long-serving members of the Canadian Armed Forces. We didn’t plan it that way. But we are blessed beyond measure.

We all know the devastating impact of PTSD.  It hurts everyone. The man or woman suffering with it, their spouses, partners, children, parents, siblings, friends, relatives, and even their pets. Everyone is impacted.  Many of those who are suffering with PTSD are military, police, paramedics, and firefighters. They are our first responders. In their selfless acts of service, they have suffered. It’s painful to see.

We have immense respect for those who serve, those who suffer, and those who struggle to find peace in their minds and hearts. If we can contribute even a small piece of peace, it is our privilege and honour to do so.

It is this inner call to action that Peace by Piece Puzzles was born.

We both have had fulfilling careers in business (Nicole) and counselling (me). Through our work and personal journey, we have witnessed the remarkable power of the human spirit. Equipped with empathy and compassion, we are eager to make a difference. We believe that every act of kindness, every gesture of love and understanding, is an infinite gift of grace. Let’s never underestimate its power, for it is a precious and always timely gift.

What is a Peace by Piece Puzzle?

Along with a beautiful, tranquil image, every Peace by Piece Puzzle carries an inspirational verse, a message of hope and love. The verses are written by me and come from a heart of gratitude. Through my words, I aspire to offer solace and hope, love and understanding.

In our face-paced, dynamic, and often complex lives, a gift to oneself or a loved one is special.  A Peace by Piece Puzzle is a gift from the heart; it is permission to quiet the mind alone, or come together with a loved one in a shared experience. During those moments when words are sometimes hard to find, a Peace by Piece Puzzle can be your voice.

There are eight verses/puzzles available:

o A Mother’s Love

o A Father’s Love

o Mighty Heart

o Into the Light

o To My Sister

o From Me, To You

o Our Story

o Still Me
Today, I would like to share with you the verse “Mighty Heart.” I wrote this piece as a tribute and testament to the power and resiliency of the human spirit. This poem is included in my second and recently published poetry collection, The Heart’s Lullaby.

I believe mental wellness should not be a convoluted concept; it’s an essential piece of our lives. A daily promise to ourselves that we are worthy to be free of inner turmoil, free to love and be loved. Piece by piece, step by step, we can do this. We are all in this together.

Please visit our website, view our puzzles, and share with others.

www.peacebypiecepuzzles.com

Mighty Heart

We admire another’s courage

While doubting our own

Yet we’ve prevailed mighty hardships

Battles waged and won.

We hold no trophies or medallions

No headlines speak our name

We rose from the ashes

And piece by piece we built again.

Our scars tell a story

We braved the fiercest storms

For we’re both the pioneer and vessel

That ventured into the unknown.

We are not of myth or legend

Our hearts know the burden well

We bore, sustained, and survived

For into the fray we sailed.

Fear shall not cage nor define us

Here we stand on vast, shaky ground

So, let’s never doubt our courage

Dare this mighty voyage … both noble and proud.
© Natalie Ducey

***

In celebration of my “Spotlight” tour, I’m delighted to say my second and recently published poetry collection The Heart’s Lullaby is currently available for .99 cents!

With a BA in Psychology, Natalie has worked in the Counselling field for 15 years. Through her work and personal journey, she has witnessed the remarkable power of the human spirit. Now, as an author and poet, she is passionate about stories that touch the heart and awaken the soul. Through words, she aspires to offer solace and hope, love and understanding. Natalie is the Co-owner and Writer of Peace by Piece Puzzles. She is the Owner/Writer/Designer of Whispers of the Heart (printable art/poetry/verse). She was born and raised in beautiful Newfoundland, Canada, with her two brothers and twin sister. She now resides in Ontario, Canada, with her husband, a Soldier in the Canadian Armed Forces, and their little dog, Bella. She loves kayaking and the freedom and serenity of being one with water. She is an avid reader, passionate writer, and seeker of tranquility along life’s mystifying journey.

You can connect with Natalie on:

Website/Blog – www.natalieducey.com

Facebook – Whispers of the Heart

Twitter – @NatalieDucey

Pinterest – Natalie Ducey

Author Page – Natalie Ducey

Google +1 – Natalie Ducey

GoodReads Author Page – Natalie Ducey

LinkedIn – Natalie Ducey

The Convict and the Rose, on Lisa Burton Radio #RRBC

Welcome to another edition of Lisa Burton Radio. I'm your host, Lisa the robot girl. We just got finished saying goodbye to one year, and welcoming the new one. People end the year like a chapter in a book, and look forward with hope to a clean slate in the new year. Some people don't have that luxury. If you were incarcerated, you might mark off the old year for a completely different reason, and that's what today's show is about.

If I timed this out right, and I always do, my call should be coming right about now… “Hello, this is Lisa.”

“You're receiving a call from inmate Luke Stone, from the United States Penitentiary in Leavenworth, Kansas. Do you accept the charges?”

“Yes.”

“Good morning, Lisa. Thanks for accepting the collect call. Since they don't allow us inmates to have any money, it's hard to use the one and only pay phone in the facility. I'm happy to talk to you. What would you like for your listeners to know?”

“Good morning Luke. My bio says you were a fairly successful musician in the American Southwest. How does a budding career in music lead to a Federal prison sentence?”

“Heh! You don't pull any punches do you, little lady? I like that. You see it happened like this. I've played music since I was a teenager and got to be sort of a hot-shot star around Texas, Oklahoma, New Mexico and out to California. I made a splash on the Billboard charts with a couple of songs and had one that made it all the way to number one in Denmark in 1965. I'd been on the road for years and was damned tired of it all – the honkytonks, the women, booze, drugs – you name it. But, I was caught on a merry-go-round and couldn't find a way to jump off. I'd screwed up two marriages and had some kids to support plus the band depended on me to keep their families fed, so I kept going. But I didn't give a shit anymore. I simply thought I didn't care. These guys who'd hung around the honkytonks and been friends of mine for years approached me with a business deal. If I'd case out banks when I was out on the circuit…draw the inside layout and maps in and out of town, they'd drop a few bucks in my hands. So, what the hell? I went for it. I can honestly say that I never went in a bank with a gun and robbed it.”

“So, if you're innocent, why not help the police out?”

“I've been a rebel and a no-good bastard all my life. I've walked outside the lines, but one thing I never was and never will be is a rat. Because of the bad-assed reputation I'd created and because I wouldn't tell what I knew about the robberies, they gave me a huge dose of so-called Texas justice. Hell, they even had me associated with the Dixie Mafia in the newspapers. Not that I wasn't friends with the head of the Dixie Mafia, but it had nothing to do with the robberies. They were looking for a scapegoat and I was big and dumb and defiant so I made myself a target. I truly believed that I couldn't be convicted of a crime I hadn't committed. Heh! I was damned sure wrong.”

“What kinds of things did you do to leave vengeance behind?”

“I hope we have time for me to answer that question because it's a big one. When I got here to Leavenworth in December of 1971, I was pissed off and bitter. I was determined that they weren't going to MAKE me follow their senseless rules. I remember one of the first incidents that happened after I got here. A sergeant chewed my ass out about the way I'd made my bunk. He said he wanted the sheets so tight you could bounce a quarter off them. I politely told him inmates weren't allowed to have quarters which pissed him off. He asked me if I'd ever been in the army and I told him the only army I recognized was the Confederate Army and most of the time those poor bastards didn't even have a blanket to lay on much less a bed. Anyway, that didn't win me any points with the guard, but I wasn't going to cave. I had a bad attitude and it took me about three or four years of being locked up, thrown in the hole and beaten many times before I finally got it through my thick skull that I wasn't going to change prison and it damned sure wasn't going to change me.

“I had to make a choice to make about how I was going to do my time. Appeals had been denied and I was staring at many years behind bars. You know when a man is thirty-five years old and has a twenty-five and fifty-year sentence to run consecutively, it's a helluva long time.

“So, I'd been thrown in the hole again–

“Sorry, what is the hole?”

“That's solitary confinement for those who don't know – and I had a dream or vision. I still don't know exactly what it was, but it created a turning point for me. I made up my mind I was going to be and do something positive, despite the negative situation I found myself in. I realized that the only true freedom a man ever has is inside his own mind… in his imagination. I discovered freedom through creating art of all kinds. I'd always had a little artistic talent on the outside. So, I taught myself how to do oil paintings, learned to tool leather, do lapidary and American Indian beadwork, make pottery and ceramics, but the thing I loved the most was writing. I wrote hundreds of songs, poems, short stories and even a screenplay. And I learned how to do pen-and-ink drawings.

“For years, I advocated for a recording studio so that we could get our music to the outside world legitimately. Finally, a new warden came in and everyone talked about what a fair man he was. So, I decided to write a song to get his attention and plea our cause one more time. It is the only contrived song I ever wrote. Anyway, the message got to him and he gave me permission to build a studio.”

“I understand there isn't much money for projects like the recording studio. How did you put it all together?”

“Once the warden agreed, he told me that he'd give me a room to work in but there was absolutely no funding available for a project like this. So, me and the other guys gathered up old broken pieces of electronics, discarded PA systems, radios and anything else we could use to get parts and pieces from. Then we begged the Chaplain for discarded carpeting from the Chapel, old drapes from the auditorium, cans of leftover paint and we went to work. We collected all the empty egg crates from the kitchen every day and glued them onto the concrete walls to buffer sound. We painted the room and the hallways leading up to the room with music notes and did all we could to make it look like a real studio.”

“I guess the next question has to be why, Luke? Are there that many talented musicians in prison that are deserving of a recording contract?”

“Music was and is my salvation. And, over the years as different inmates would pass through, I discovered lots of talented musicians locked up. We were all writing. I'd borrow a little cassette recorder from the Chaplain and a couple of Jesus tapes and someone would stand guard while we recorded our songs over them and smuggle them out to family. It was a way to make a man feel like he was living despite being confined in a cage. I have dreams about someone like Willie Nelson picking up one of my songs and recording it. All we can do in here is make decent demos. We aren't chasing record contracts for ourselves. It isn't possible.”

“It's kind of uplifting, how you made all the bits and pieces work, doing what you could with what you had. I've listened to this song of yours, From the Bottle to the Needle. There is the surface tragedy of what the singer is doing to his body, and the depression he's going through, but there is a deeper basis behind it. He's wasting away for someone he loves.”

“Like I said, that is the only contrived song I've ever written. Ninety percent of the people behind bars are there either directly or indirectly due to alcohol and/or drugs. And these men have all left behind family, children, lovers… you never stop desiring the touch of a lover. That line in the song that says, 'What good are memories, when I need to touch you?' Says it all. I left behind a little gal, Darlina Flowers, that had changed my whole life, but it was too little too late. I have tried all the years I've been locked up to get her to go on with her life and forget about me and she’s tried. But, dammit, love can't be confined by space or time and she stands beside me even today trying to help me get paroled. That's a love you can't define or deny.”

“That's such a powerful sentiment. Luke, you're a bit different than other characters who've been on this show. I've interviewed ghosts, dogs, dark goddesses, and more, but you are portraying a real man. You're a fictional stand-in for an otherwise true story. How far does the story deviate from the truth?”

“Everything that Jan Sikes put in the story really did happen. She did a great job of telling it but I think she made me look better than I really am. It made me very happy that she also released a CD of music that I've recorded in here along with the book. You know, Lisa, I've screwed up a lot but I'm determined to get it right if I get another shot at life.”

“The book is called The Convict and the Rose. It's pretty obvious that you're the convict. That must make Darlina the rose. What does the future hold for you two?”

“Yes, Darlina is the rose. She's my rose, my rock and my dream. And, we will be together in the future and build the life that we’ve written to each about in letters for years. I believe that with all my heart. It’s what keeps me going. Jan Sikes, the author of The Convict and The Rose has promised to tell our whole story, and I'd love to project myself into the future where they're all completed and available. I do know you can find all the books and music CDs on Jan's website, and on Amazon for starters.”

“Luke, it's been a pleasure having you on my show today. It's inspiring to see what one person can accomplish in the face of adversity. I don't know if it's appropriate, but I wish you a happy new year anyway.”

“Thank you, darlin'. It's been a real pleasure talking to you today. Happy New Year to you too and if you want to do another interview in the future, I hope it's not from this god-forsaken place.”

“My sponsor today is The Convict and the Rose, by Jan Sikes. I'll provide all of Luke's links on the blog site. Make sure to hit those sharing buttons, and when your character appears on the show maybe someone will do the same for you. For Lisa Burton Radio, I'm Lisa Burton.”

***

Because she's cool like that, Jan has priced THE CONVICT AND THE ROSE at 99¢ this week to coincide with this interview. Grab your copy while it's on sale.

THE CONVICT AND THE ROSE:

Rebel Texas musician, Luke Stone, loses everything that he treasures with the arrest and conviction for a crime he didn’t commit. Not only is he locked away in a cage, he's left behind the woman who holds his heart. Broken and alone, Darlina Flowers struggles to go on living without the man she loves so completely. Follow their journey through shackles and chains, drugs and gurus as they fight to find their way to freedom.

 

 

 

FLOWERS AND STONE:

A hot Texas summer in 1970, dim-lit honky-tonk barrooms, a naïve fledgling go-go dancer and a wild rebel Texas musician sets the stage for this story. Can Darlina Flowers ever hope to fit into this new world and even more important, can she trust Luke Stone with her heart?

Luke Stone, a good man who has made a career of bad decisions, finds himself at a crossroads. Fate has sealed his destiny and threatens it all.

HOME AT LAST:

Released from federal prison after fifteen long years, Luke Stone boards a Greyhound bus bound for Texas, for home and the woman who holds his heart. He happily hangs up his neon dreams for a paint brush and hammer. Darlina Flowers has waited her entire adult life to become Mrs. Luke Stone, but will the hardships of starting over with nothing be too much? Their love is tested to the core as the story unfolds.

‘TIL DEATH DO US PART:

Luke Stone has cheated death more times than he cares to remember. And now, with a chance for a second music career after so many years, he knows he won’t fill the Texas dancehalls and honky-tonks as he’d done in his younger days. Darlina, his rock and anchor, longs to see his dreams fulfilled and vows to do everything possible to help him find success. But, will time allow Luke to sing his last song?

DISCOVERY:

When all of life is stripped away, left with no freedom except in his mind, Rick Sikes journeys deep inside to discover his true self. He finds the only way to survive hopeless negativity is through creating with his hands and imagination. They confined his body in an iron cage, but could not lock away his mind.

What you’ll find between the covers of this book are expressions of raw emotion…Poems of deep sadness and loss, humorous musings, political wisdom, life observations and tender love from both Rick and Jan Sikes as well as pen-and-ink drawings from a true artisan.

Multi-Award winning author, Jan Sikes, weaves stories in a creative and entertaining way. She has been called a magician and wordsmith extraordinaire by her readers and peers.

Most recently, Jan completed a series of four books about a Texas musician who was a pioneer in the Outlaw Music movement before it ever had a name. She also released a music CD of original songs matching the time period of each story.

Jan writes songs, poetry, short stories, screenplays and novels. She resides in North Texas and sits on the board of directors for the RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB, North Texas Book Festival, The Texas Musicians Museum and the Texas Authors Institute of History.

Stalk Jan on the following social sites:

WEBSITE: http://www.jansikes.com

BLOG: http://www.rijanjks.wordpress.com

TWITTER: http://www.twitter.com/rijanjks

FACEBOOK: http://www.facebook.com/authorjansikesbooks

PINTEREST: http://www.pinterest.com/jks0851/

All of Jan's books are available at her Amazon Author Site, for those of you who want to grab them all at once.