Wednesday, September 16, 2026
Looking for inspiration or a romantic setting? How about an abandoned French manor?
Sunday, September 13, 2026
The Bear Goddess: Gods, Monsters and Forbidden Desire
Nymphs and centaurs collide in an
epic war of gods, monsters, and forbidden desire.
(A standalone dark fantasy
romance in the Arcadia series.)
Callisto is the nymph who betrayed Artemis. This is her story.
Callisto, the daughter of the great Arcadian King Lycaon and the nymph Maia, has taken a sacred vow of purity, forsaking all others for Artemis, and attains the revered position of Bear Goddess among the nymphs. When she meets Kasin, a follower of Zeus and her sworn enemy, her life is shattered.
Kasin is a centaur prince and one of
few who can take human shape. Despite having sworn allegiance to Zeus, he saves
the life of one of Artemis’s nymphs. He is torn between his love for Callisto
and his duty to his people and his god.
Danger and betrayal follow Kasin and
Callisto after their secret, forbidden connection is exposed. To survive, they
must evade a god obsessed with having Callisto for himself, as well as others
who also want to keep them apart. With a devastating war looming between the
centaurs and the nymphs, Callisto must make a difficult choice. To prevent
bloodshed and to save an innocent life, she must die.
Game of Thrones meets the Iliad
with more warrior women and Greek mythology with a twist. An epic ancient
historical, enemies to lovers romantasy with centaurs and nymphs that rivals Outlander.
Excerpt:
Everything had happened so fast—being caught with
Kasin, being bound with silver, Kasin changing into a centaur—Callisto hadn’t
had time to absorb the shock of discovering the man she loved was a centaur.
Weakened by the silver chain still binding her hands, she couldn’t escape. All
she could do was lay helpless in his arms while he galloped with her off into
the night.
He came to an abrupt halt at the edge of a steep
plateau, searching the darkened forest lit by faint beams of moonlight. The
fierce set of his handsome face made her breath catch in her throat. His arms
held her in a confident, strong grip. With some hesitancy, she admitted to
herself that she found him exciting. He was a centaur, her enemy who she was
supposed to hate, but he had never mistreated her and he saved her life once
again. She could only stare at him, stunned.
Review Quote:
“I greatly admire Ms. Heckart’s
knowledge of Greek mythology and the way she weaves it into her fictional world
along with the paranormal. Her characters are deeply drawn and engaging, and
the plots are fast-paced and draw the reader in on page one.”
Rochelle Weber, Roses &
Thorns Reviews
Enter a world of enchantment and passion.
Saturday, September 12, 2026
Surrendering to the Beast - Erotic Paranormal RomCom - Erotic Play - Sexy Spells -Tina Donahue Monthly Newsmagazine #TinaDonahueBooks #EroticRomance #ParanormalRomance #RomCom #Giveaways #EyeCandy
SURRENDERING TO THE BEAST
Erotic Paranormal Rom-Com
Book Two - Taming the Beast
When she's good, she's very good...
But when he's bad, she's better.
A Bad Boy to Die for
and a Good Girl Who Longs to be Bad
Good Fairy
Bad Boy Satyr with Lust on his Mind
Erotic Play
Sexy Spells
Cast Includes a Sexy Genie Who Knows
How to Get Down & Dirty
When she’s good, she’s very good—but when he’s bad, she’s better…
It’s definitely not business as usual at From Crud to Stud, a makeover service for supernatural beings. Dare we say it? Receptionist Heather—a good fairy with a pure heart, mind and body—is on the fast track to exquisite corruption with Daemon, a satyr.
Sex has never been this good or adventurous. Half-man, all beast, Daemon’s the ultimate bad boy, a follower of the god of wine and a good time. Before, during and after his makeover to look fully human, he intends to put some color into Heather’s pale cheeks.
She’s one conflicted but turned-on babe. Especially as Mistress Jin, a genie Daemon commands, agrees to show Heather how to cut loose. Under the mistress’s tutelage and Daemon’s shameless lust, Heather’s gonna find out what love and having fun is all about.
Warning:
Not your typical bedtime story. May lead to indecent behavior, a taste for voyeurism, discipline and bondage, which will result in screaming orgasms. Proceed with caution.
PRAISE FOR SURRENDERING TO THE BEAST
"Tempting the Good Fairy"
You will Love, Love this quirky, funny, and sweet unique book and series! The story line will win your heart. The characters are amazing. This is such a fun to read book and series!
- Roxie, Amazon
"Surrendering to the Beast"
Taming the Beast series is a unique series featuring all different kinds of paranormal beings. From Crud to Stud is a very unique concept too! All together it makes for a very lively and entertaining read!
- deb1210, Amazon
TEASERS
Excerpt:
Heather pressed her hand to her chest. She’d expected to see his socks, maybe even his bare feet, not hooves. “You’re not mortal.”
“No kidding.” He puffed out another breath. “That’s why I’m here.” He gestured to the reception area stuffed with potted plants and feathery ferns. The greenery made the coral walls seem even warmer in comparison. Faux-gas fixtures provided a dated, romantic feel, like old New Orleans.
Loud hisses and teeth snapping filled the hall.
He arched one dark eyebrow and raked his gaze over her.
Perspiration rolled down her back and between her breasts.
Pleasure sparkled in his beautiful eyes. “I take it I’m in the right place for a makeover?”
Few beings had deeper voices than his. Awe blossomed within her. A pleasant feeling. Her nipples tightened. She liked that, too, when she shouldn’t have. Given the huge bulge behind his fly, she guessed what he was. “You’re a satyr, right?”
“That’s me. Wine, women and song.” He winked.
A zombie moaned.
He looked over. “Speaking of song, you should get a sound system in here. Drown out those crappy noises with some down-and-dirty heavy metal. You like Behemoth? Their Lucifer kicks serious ass.”
His bulge got bigger, the folds between her legs damper. Fighting dizziness, Heather plodded to her computer, mystified as to why he had such an enticing effect on her when other guys had only sparked panic. Satyrs were charming, sure, and natural seducers. They had to be, considering all they thought about and wanted was sex. However, they didn’t have the power to turn a good fairy against her ingrained principles. At least, she didn’t think they could. “Do you have an appointment, Mister…”
“No Mister, just Daemon. Nope on the appointment, too. I’m hoping you can fit me in. What are you?”
Heather stopped keying. “The receptionist.”
He laughed with pleasure, not derision.
The deep, virile sound rushed straight past her bones and into her marrow. Her belly fluttered.
“I mean what kind of being are you? No, wait. Let me guess.” He tapped his forefinger against his bristly jaw.
He wore an ornate silver ring with a large black stone on his right middle finger. His hands were big and rugged rather than frightening.
Heather wasn’t certain why, but she saw good strength in them, the sort that cherished and made mortal women sigh in appreciation.
She might have whimpered in delight, but didn’t have enough breath.
He made a frustrated sound. “You’re either an elf or a fairy. Damn, I can never tell those two beings apart.”
That hurt deep. Fairies and elves weren’t similar at all. No different from mistaking a satyr for a centaur. Despite his rude comment, she couldn’t be surly or sarcastic. “I’m a good fairy.”
“That explains all the white you’re wearing.” He gestured to her peasant blouse, gypsy skirt and ballet flats.
An outfit she’d bought at Macy’s, not a uniform store for fairies. Heather knew she wasn’t cool like the babes he probably knew and had been intimate with, but he didn’t have to make her feel like a total loser. Embarrassed, she lowered her face. “I like the color. It suits me.”
“Hey, I’m not arguing.” He held out his hands in surrender. “I’m all about pleasing the ladies.” He grinned.
His teeth were white and straight, his smile raffish yet charming.
Heather shook off her arousal. “I’m sure you are and you haven’t.” She hit the computer keys harder than usual and checked the appointment book. “Zoe can see to you in twenty minutes.” Zoe, another BFF, was a reformed demon who knew how to keep guys from getting too frisky. “Please grab your boots and follow me.”
He clopped after her and stopped abruptly to read the business name and its motto, Suppressing the Beast, painted on the wall. He shook his head. “Damn shame what we guys have to go through now to snag the babes.”
“You mean mortal women.” His biceps were beyond awesome, beefy and firm. Prominent veins coursed down them. “I understand nymphs are still into satyrs.”
“True, but I want to try the other side.” He planted one hand on his flat belly and swiveled his hips.
Thanks so much for reading today's post. Hope you enjoyed it!
Follow me on Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/tina-donahue
Friday, September 11, 2026
Heading into “wish for” season
When I was growing up, we never bought anything that could be considered a gift unless we were hiding it away for Christmas. If you saw a scarf in a store window, you might hint at it to friends or family but you didn’t buy it lest Santa have it in mind for you. Necessities had to be purchased, of course, but nothing frivolous or extraneous. If your friends or family didn’t take the hint, well, you hoped the item you lusted after was on sale in January. So, starting in September, we began the season of wishing. It seems fitting then that Your Desire is the featured book for this month.
Wishing you all the joy of the upcoming holidays—the months will fly by!—and that you receive your desire!
Blurb:
Your Desire. A mysterious shop appears in town for one reason: to bring the spice of passion and the thrill of love to one special person. Magic is in more than the item purchased—it’s in the heart of the buyer, often hidden, usually surprising. And after enchantment takes hold and the fantasy is fulfilled? The store fades from sight and memory, only to reappear somewhere else. Maybe in your town…?
Amazon KU: https://www.amazon.com/Your-Desire-Dee-S-Knight-ebook/dp/B085HFRSQ9
Amazon print: https://www.amazon.com/Your-Desire-Dee-S-Knight/dp/1734761016
Excerpt:
“Where is the damn doctor?” His truculent tone was understandable but wearying just the same, after an hour of waiting for test results.
A fair portion of that time he’d spent talking via cell phone to someone named David. That’s all she’d heard of the conversations, except Frank’s tone, which was commanding. He was definitely a man used to giving orders.
Evidently David could also give a few. When she’d checked at the desk to ask what else needed to be done in the way of paperwork for admission, the clerk had told her everything was being handled. Not only had the tedious forms been taken care of and insurance approved, the X-ray and MRI results were being sent to Frank’s doctor’s computer in Washington so he could consult on treatment.
“The doctor will be here as soon as he knows something.” She gave him her best grim nurse’s look before remembering he couldn’t see her expression. Instead she patted his hand as though he were a child. “Stop being a baby. Everything that can be done is being done.”
Three different doctors had examined him in the time they’d been at the hospital, coming in, saying as little as possible, then leaving with a “Hmm.” She knew it was the lack of information that grated on Frank’s nerves more than anything else.
While the doctors checked him over, she’d examined him herself, with as little notice as possible. He was as handsome as any man she’d ever seen, but in a rugged way, contrary to the citified, expensive clothes he wore. There was a bump at the top of his nose indicating at least one break. Long luxurious lashes swept down and up each time he blinked, hiding then revealing beautiful hazel eyes. He was tall and very fit, muscled without an ounce of fat. Brown hair, nicely trimmed, sparkled with good health and care. In the bright glare of ER lights, his face didn’t look nearly so sharply angled as she’d thought earlier, but the stubble from a day’s growth of beard made him look dark and rough.
“Tell you what. Why don’t I go and get you some ice? You shouldn’t have anything to eat, but a little ice will be all right.”
“Ice?” He said it as though he couldn’t believe anyone in their right mind would suggest such a thing, but in the end he agreed.
Ten minutes later, she approached his cubicle with a cup filled with shaved ice. Weariness dragged at her with every step, and she could hardly wait until Frank was admitted so she could go home.
“Here comes Allison now. We’ll ask her.” His voice was loud enough to be heard throughout the ER. She slipped through the opening to see Frank sitting on the edge of the bed. Walter Neeley, the ophthalmologist, stood in front of him. Mike stood apart, his arms crossed over the metal cover of the hospital chart held tightly against his chest. His face was serious but a look of mischievous glee colored his eyes as he observed the verbal sparring between the two men. Beside him stood Richard Matthews, head of neurology, who nodded a greeting to her.
“Ask Allison what?” She knew she’d have to referee something, based on the bull-headed expressions of both doctor and patient. Frank and Walt had already turned toward the opening in the curtains when she slipped in. This damn noisy dress.
“I want to hold Mr. Hughes overnight. He refuses. Says he’ll be all right at your house.” Walt Neeley arched a brow at her. “As he’s your friend, perhaps you can convince him that it’s in his own best interests to be admitted for the night.”
Unconsciously, she moved to stand beside Frank, touching his hand to let him know she was there. His head followed her every movement. “Actually he’s not my fr—”
“Tell him there’s no need for me to remain here overnight, Allison. If he’d give me something for this damn headache, I’d be fine. Well, if I could see, that is.” He practically growled out the last.
“They can’t give you anything that will make you sleep.”
“But it hurts like hell.”
“I know, but buck up,” she stage-whispered.
He snorted and turned away.
“Actually, Frank,” she stated in her most persuasive tone, “it is in your best interest to stay here. If anything should happen, the staff and equipment you need will be here.”
“No.”
Damn it! She couldn’t take him home. Besides the obvious medical risks, there was the unsettled feeling she experienced around him. It was unreasonable, but there, nonetheless. Why wouldn’t the obstinate man allow them to admit him so she could go home alone to her safe and ordered life.
“Mr. Hughes.”
Frank turned his head, his recalcitrant expression carved in stone.
“You don’t seem to realize the seriousness of your condition. You have a contusion, and as Nurse Hayes suggested, that’s bad enough. But if the swelling of your brain worsens during the night, you’ll need care she can’t give you at home.”
Frank seemed to consider this. “Dr. Matthews, is it?” He asked but continued without waiting for confirmation. “I think I do understand the seriousness of my condition. If you and the staff here haven’t explained it thoroughly enough, my own doctor, after examining the test results you sent, has told me plainly that I’m a jackass if I leave here tonight. However, he’s well aware of my nature and knows I’m a man used to taking judicious risks. I trust Ms. Hayes. She’s a well-trained nurse, is she not?”
“This has nothing to do with Allison’s capabilities,” spit out Walt Neeley. “This has to do with your welfare and the liability of the hospital if you leave and something happens.”
She sighed, knowing the men could butt heads all night without resolution. “What about the blindness?”
Walt spoke. “As far as we can tell, the problem is trauma-induced and will resolve itself when the swelling goes down. Tonight he’ll have to be checked every two hours.”
“Allison will do that.” Frank didn’t give the slightest intimation that she might say no.
She looked at him, really looked at him. He acted the tyrant, totally commanding, used to having every whim fulfilled and order followed without question. But there was an odd hesitance under it all. She’d noticed the characteristic earlier, too, when they were making their way out of the pasture. Discomfort, almost fear.
His hands fisted on his legs, his brows puckered ever so slightly in worry. Other than those tells, no one would know he wasn’t the controlling force he pretended to be. Maybe only she saw he had the false bravado of a man used to being in charge, suddenly finding himself at the mercy of fate. If so, she might not understand his attitude but she wouldn’t betray him.
She tried one more approach. “What if I stayed with you? I’d be here each time the nurse woke you up.”
He shook his head. “If you won’t take me home I’ll call my assistant. He’ll come down immediately and we’ll drive back to DC tonight.”
Walt Neeley threw his hands up and snorted in disbelief. Frank’s lips turned up in a tiny smile, probably secure in the knowledge that he’d presented an alternative worse than going home with her.
Mike gave a one-shouldered shrug when she glanced at him. “I strongly advise he be admitted.” Frank opened his mouth to speak, but Mike cut him off. “If he insists on going, we can’t stop him. You’re one of the people I’d entrust him to. If you want him, of course.”
All four men waited to hear her judgment. “I suppose he could sleep on the sofa in the office. I wouldn’t want him climbing the stairs.” She spoke out loud, but more to herself, reasoning what to do. “I can get him back here very quickly if need be.”
“Good.” Frank spoke as though her decision had been a foregone conclusion all along. His hands relaxed on his thighs.
Reviews:
“I loved this book, each story was beautiful, romantic, and filled with very hot sex.” 5 stars
“If you’re looking for a spicy escape from your everyday life, pick up Your Desire today. It’ll heat your body and singe your soul. Highly recommend!” 4.5 stars
A little about me:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.
After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website. And all three offer some of the best romance you can find! Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity. Sign up for my newsletter and have access to free reads.
Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K
Thursday, September 10, 2026
#outnow - Taken by the Angel of Death by @meganslayer #newrelease @changelingpress
Taken by the Angel of Death (Taken 14) by Megan Slayer
One touch sends her victims to hell. But he’s already been there. Would not recommend. 0 stars.
Loren knows her job. She’s an angel of death. When she allows herself to be seen, there are no survivors. She drives too fast, has no filter, and bows to no man. Then she sees a vampire crumpled on the ground. It’s not his time. She can’t leave him to die, but she won’t get involved with him. Too bad he’s cute.
Michel never wanted to be turned. Never wanted to offer his services. Terminal illness? You’re going to perish anyway? Want to do it on your terms? Then he can help. It’s part of his death wish. But he can’t die. When he finds himself in the presence of the most beautiful, moodiest woman he’s ever seen, he can’t forget her. But she won’t touch him. He makes it his mission to get to know and melt her defenses so they can both have their heart’s delight.
If nothing else, he’ll die trying.
She kills. He can’t die. They shouldn’t work, but what if they did and the results are fire?
Available at Changeling Press: https://www.changelingpress.com/taken-by-the-angel-of-death-taken-14-b-3899
and At Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0HHB8S3VP
How about An Excerpt:
Copyright ©2026 Megan Slayer
One down, two to go…
Loren cleaned the blood from her hands once she settled behind the wheel of her car. She didn’t bother to watch the woman or call for help. That wasn’t her job. Besides, what would she say? The Angel of Death is calling and would like an ambulance to be sent to the corner of Oak and Elm? Yeah, that wouldn’t do much good. No one would believe her.
She drove away, leaving the scene. In the regular world, she’d be in trouble for fleeing the site of an accident. But no one saw her, save for the drunken woman and no one would believe her, either. They’d think Loren was a figment of her sloshy mind.
Loren flexed her fingers on the steering wheel. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a conversation with someone who wasn’t at Just One More. Certainly not with someone who wanted to speak to her.
Not that she wanted to have deep discussions with anyone. Most people annoyed her. She stopped at the traffic light and a thought occurred to her. If I’m not careful and don’t rein in my sarcastic attitude, I’ll turn into Bubsy.
She gagged.
No one is as insufferable as Bubsy.
She drove for two hours before reaching her next destination near Pittsburgh. She spied a man crossing the dark street. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets and his head down. His gait was quick, like he was hurrying away from someone. She kept watching. This guy wasn’t on her list. Was he perishing tonight? This wasn’t exactly a great area and people did die here.
Another being rushed up to the man. Something glinted. A knife? She wasn’t going to be a witness to this. Loren parked and surged from her vehicle. She lunged between the men, pushing the first one out of the way.
Tuesday, September 8, 2026
Writing To Rewrite
There are as many writing processes as there are writers. Some plot for months before writing a word. Others start with an idea and immediately start writing by the seat of their pants. Some write every scene before considering rewriting. Others will spend all day on just one page, getting it perfect before moving on to the next.
Of all the different processes that exist, I have not heard of a single writer that writes their book perfectly on the first shot.
We all know rewriting is part of the plan. That no matter how you write, no matter how much you write, no matter what type of story you write, there will need to be editing and revising. Some of us enjoy it more than others (I’m strongly in the revisions are torture camp 😁, but I have some friends whose favorite part of the process is revising, just another way we are all different).
Lately I have been struggling to write. I know where the difficult comes from. It’s a combination of not having enough time to feel invested in my stories and characters, exhaustion, limited mental space (toddler mom life is not for the weak), and putting too much pressure on myself to do something amazing, since it has been so long since my last release. But I am finding it increasingly difficult to get words on the page. I get so fixated on the words being good, right, perfect, that I can spend twenty minutes with a thesaurus trying to find just the right word for a scene that I end up with very few new words by the time I’m done. Even though I know, as I said above, that I can’t possibly get it right the first time, I am still desperately trying to.
Frustrated by my lack of progress over the last few months, I’ve been actively trying to overcome this block by forcing myself to just write something.
When I am staring at the page, or about to do my third thesaurus search, I tell myself just write something. A quick description of what is happening, a simple expression of their emotions, a single action, and then I move on. It doesn’t have to be right. In fact, it won’t be. But just write something, so you can get to the next sentence, the next paragraph, the next page. I tell myself I’m just putting it down and I’ll rewrite it later, which is true either way. As I said, no one can write perfectly the first time. But if you never write anything, you don’t even have the chance to perfect it the next time.
And amazingly, it’s been working. Over the last few weeks, I’ve started to feel more connection with my story. I am going back and rewriting many of these ‘just write something’ sentences, filling them in with more delicate wording or more detailed descriptions. Improving them to be closer to my vision. Sometimes they just don’t apply entirely and need to be totally rewritten once I read the wider scope of the story. And that’s okay. In fact, that’s perfect. Because I’m writing. I’m getting to know my characters again. Their stories again. And I am discovering what is true and not true at the same time. Every word written is a step closer to a completed story, even if those words fall on the cutting room floor.
A lot of life is the same. People are often afraid of taking a step, making a move, afraid to make the wrong one, when in truth, doing nothing is probably a worst decision. Doing nothing keeps you frozen. Doing nothing keeps you further from completing that book.
Further from repainting your house. Further from starting that business. Further from whatever goal you want to achieve.
And while writing down the wrong word—when I know it’s the wrong word—just to keep moving is a very small step, it is at least a step in the right direction. And I’ll take a baby step over standing still any day.
If you’re struggling with a project, or a goal, or anything you want to do, think about what baby steps you can accomplish. Even if you are unsure. Even if you know it’s not the perfect step. Because sometimes doing the wrong thing is far worse than doing nothing.
Monday, September 7, 2026
Hearts of homes and stories #writing #writinglife #love
This summer, I have been in the process of moving, which has involved all sorts of surprises. Packing my belongings seemed like it would be a relatively tame and easy part of moving house. As I was steadily putting clothes and dishes in boxes, it occured to me how much of my possessions were unnecessary. There are the items that collect dust but have no real function, there are the furniture pieces that have lived their lives and need to be retired somewhere else, even though I thought that maybe one day, I would sand the thing down and repaint it. In all honesty, I won’t, though. At least not in this decade.
Getting rid of trashloads of things
and seeing the empty spaces left behind made me feel unexpectedly lighter and
freer. Though I haven’t been able to do much writing over the past few weeks
due to tons of boxes and unforeseen problems with plumbing and furniture
deliveries and other disasters, the freeing feeling of getting rid of excess
stayed on my mind. When I get back to writing, I will start applying the
strategy of getting rid of unnecessary parts that don’t serve the story with
even more ruthlessness than ever before.
The paragraphs I was attached to
because of a clever phrase or poetic construction? Gone if they don’t truly
serve the story in some way. Scenes that described the scenery in great detail?
Deleted if they can’t make me feel some significant way about those details. I will
begin extracting words with precision, especially from the flash fiction and
short stories I have in progress. But I can’t cut away everything small or that
doesn’t seem necessary or functional because, as I realize after looking at
folders of art work my children made over the years as well as the painting my husband
and I bought years ago using a gift card that was a wedding gift, that a story
and a home both need a heart to survive. Some of what makes a heart beat is in
the memories or the small things that may collect a bit of dust but make me
smile whenever I see them.
If you’d like to follow me on
social media for my latest book information and excerpts, poems, contest info,
book recommendations, and other fun stuff, you can find me at:
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Christina-Lynn-Lambert/e/B01MCYK0K7
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/christina-lynn-lambert
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/christinalynnlambert
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15900423.Christina_Lynn_Lambert
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/christinalynnlambert
Wordpress: https://christinalynnlambertwordpress.com
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