That is the premise for my Elemental Guardian Series. There are four books in the series: Fire Goddess, Water Goddess, Wind Goddess, and Earth Goddess.
I turn in the final for Earth Goddess September 2ND. She will be available October 15th.
I've spent a lot of time with these ladies.
Wilda, the Fire Goddess, represents her element well. A legendary temper and fiery red hair. Her mortal, Kelly, has some great laugh aloud lines in the book.
Kendra, the Water Goddess, is the youngest. She is the gentlest of the four. In her story, she comes up against mortal evil which forever alters her and her mortal, Erin. This story still touches me deeply.
Tempest, the Wind Goddess, is an ebony-haired Amazon. I rolled the dice and put three dynamic Alpha characters in one story. Sylvia and Tristan waver between being each other's soul mates and each other's worst enemies. I was more a referee than a writer in that one.
Eden, the Earth Goddess, is the embodiment (in my mind) of every woman. She is the nurturer. The protector. The oldest of the four sisters. The one they look to. But it is a rule she broke many years ago that brings her to her mortal, May.
Without further ado:
May Fairchild was a child actor until a tragic accident cut her dreams, and almost her life, short. She limped away from acting and began a new life for herself. Childish dreams were tucked away, and a new foundation was built. May is set in her ways and believes herself to be in the twilight of her years with no time for romantic nonsense. When Chandler Hughes moves in next door, May’s world alters. Her young neighbor sees May in a new light. Chandler won’t back down. May won’t give in. Eden is the Earth Goddess who has already helped May come out of the dark once when all was lost. Can she show her the light again?
1. an episode that is turbulent or highly emotional
I won't lie. I stay away from Drama. I absolutely loathe its existence. Why would I put myself in a situation where my blood pressure rises, my ulcer spews acid, and I develop a migraine? Answer: I don't.
But for some unknown reason, Drama likes me. Drama wants to be my buddy. You know, hang around. Make its presence known. All that bullshit. Color me highly displeased.
I only have two major exes. Just two. There's not a long line of past relationships. TWO. K? One is going to be living next door to me. *massaging temple* The other has his gf/wife whoever the hell she is...contacting me. This is my ex-husband who left when BC was three months old. Yeah. Almost thirteen years ago. But he would be so "BLESSED" if the girls would contact him. I'm sure he would. The girls are fantastic. They're intelligent and beautiful. Can't go wrong there. But my memories of the ex-husband are a lot less pretty. The gf/wife says he's "changed." *massaging temple again*
I wonder if I can get Drama surgically removed from my weary ass. *****
We were watching the Olympics again last night. Rooting on the magnificent Mr. Phelps. Watching interviews with the Ladies' All-Around Winners-Nastia and Shawn. Things of that nature. Then the commercials rolled. KFC has been hyping the hell out of their grilled chicken. And every time (Yes! EVERY TIME) the damn commercials come on, Oldest Chicken says, "I want that." I make a mental note. We rock on. And then Sonic has been showing the Fried Ice Cream Blast commercials. Yeah. FRIED ICE CREAM. The nutritional value is more than likely negligible while the fat content riseth. But I digress. Every time THAT commercial comes on, Middle Chicken scoots up REAL close to the television and expresses her burning need to have one of those. Now let me back up. Sonic started in Shawnee Oklahoma. So I honestly don't know how many of you out there even know what one is. But you can google them. And hey! They have a MySpace. *eye roll* Nonetheless, they have some of the funniest commercials I have ever watched on television. There are two male friends. A married couple. And two female friends recently have hyped the Fried Ice Cream Blast. The commercial with the girls (I looked everywhere on the web and couldn't find a link to show y'all) shows both ladies sucking down these blasts and then one says...I want another. Her friend grins and says...so do I. Then they both look guilty and discuss the fact they'll have to change to another lane to order and disguise their voices. The driver deepens her voice and drawls out..."I want a Fried Ice Cream Blast." Then she puts her finger over her lip (like a moustache) and repeats that to her friend. The passenger smiles and says...Yeah. The moustache works for you. Keep this all in mind. *GRINS*
So KFC pops on another grilled commercial. Once again...I get OC bemoaning the fact that her lips have never touched said grilled chicken. So I gather my purse and keys and look at the girls. I tell them I'm going to KFC. You could've heard a pin drop. Then the silence was broken by my herd of children scooting to the van so fast I think they broke the sound barrier. While I was treating them, I told them I would stop by Sonic to get them dessert. Whatever they wanted. MC obviously voted for the Fried Ice Cream Blast. BC likes the strawberry sundaes. OC drinks the Java Chillers. *sigh* So we pull in, and I'm asking for orders. And then one of the girls--OC or MC--says...I dare you to order like that girl does on the commercials. Excuse me? *BIG GRIN* You dare me? Oh really??? So I lean over, push the red button, hold my finger over my top lip and drawl my order for the Fried Ice Cream Blast. The girls are ROLLING!!! And SQUEALING!!! And MC says...I didn't think you'd really do it. *snickering* Shoulda known better. By the way...I didn't indulge in either KFC or Sonic. And I've lost another 14 pounds. heh Grins*
I'll readily admit it. I don't watch the Olympics religiously every four years. I'm a hit and miss type viewer. However, this year, my chickens were interested, so we gave it a go. And it's been jaw dropping to say the least. The girls especially enjoy synchronized swimming and gymnastics. But we've even sat through volleyball, which Oldest Chicken deems "the boringest sport ever." Sorry Kerri and Misty! We watched Michael Phelps and crew make the French swimmers eat their words. We cheered until we were hoarse when Lezak brought it home. We watched the unflappable Mr. Phelps pile up gold medal after gold medal. And it's simply amazing. Bob Costas, host extraordinaire, breaks up all the events with little vignettes and pieces about the athletes and the home country. There's a woman who travels about and brings the stories back. Her name is Mary. Nope. Can't think of the last name. Too lazy to google it. You'll just have to take my word for it. Her last little clip was about the Panda Bears. Aren't they one of the damn cutest bears you've ever seen in your life??? I always wanna pull an Elmira and hug them tight and squeeze them. But these poor creatures were endangered once upon a time, so the Chinese have sanctuaries and breeding grounds. There is a studmuffin bear, Lu Lu (spelling?). He, apparently, gets around the grounds. And if he just so happens to NOT be in the mood, they have panda porn. Ok. They didn't call it that. But seriously. What do you call it when a male "meets" a female, it's taped, and then shown to another male? I rest my case. Onto other species being flexible...gymnastics. I watched the women last night and was a bit disappointed. There was a major fall from the balance beam. It probably cost our team the gold. And that moment shook the entire team up a bit. I will say that Shawn Johnson rocked the hell out of the balance beam, and Nastia did the same on the uneven bars. Ladies, you were magnificent. Bridget only competed in one team event final-the vault. I like her. She reminds me of my girls. So I was seriously rooting her on. There's still individual medals for the athletes, but the USA brought home the silver team medal. Mishaps and all. Something for us all to be proud of. Speaking of proud...(See! I'm so much smoother now)...chickens went back to school today. Oldest Chicken is in high school. *gasp* *wheeze* It's a late night for me, but when I get home, I'm sure I'll hear all about it. Wouldn't want it any other way. Grins*
I've been a good girl lately. (For the most part.) I don't kick animals. I'm kind to the elderly and the young. I haven't smothered my children in their sleep. There have been EFFORTS, I'm telling ya.
So. Could someone, ANYONE, explain to me why I deserve to have my ex move in next door to me? I simply don't understand.
The ex was supposed to be moving 8 miles away. Down another highway. That "fell through." So the ex bought a trailer. And of all the freakin' land in my rural school district, the ex rents a spot on the other side of my pond. The other side. Of my fucking pond. I can see the damn driveway. Get the picture?
So. My new neighbor? Oh yeah. The person I used to love who screwed me over as hard as possible. I really don't think there will be a housewarming gift. Crystal*
My Weather Pixie is a good girl. She stays on my blog 24/7 to notify me of the weather here where I reside. But lately, the poor dear is being stifled by the Oklahoma heat. You know. Record-setting temps for the past 5 days. 105. 106. All that ickiness. And I'm thinking...HEY! Give the poor girl a break! Let her shuck the clothes and just put those blurry things on over her naughty bits. And WP's black cat? I think he/she (because really...I just don't know) should be able to unzip the fur, step out, and kick back on a chaise lounge. It only seems right.
I thought perhaps the chickie was in revolt yesterday when it was 105, and she was saying it was 79. Large discrepancy there. I think she was making a point. Grins*
(ought to be fun seeing all the hits from this one, huh?)
Cocky bitch. I was called this a couple of weeks ago. What did I do? Laugh, of course. Because it can, sometimes, be true. I've reached a point in my life that I'm fully aware of my capabilities and my lack of skills and ease in other areas. I don't bullshit and promise I can do something that I most assuredly can't. Once upon a time...around 15-20 years ago, I was the proverbial door mat. I would bend over backwards for whoever. Whenever. Those days are long gone, my friend. I've now come into my own with my confidence and assurance that I like who I am and what I'm capable of. Sure, it's taken 36 years. But better late than never, right? Cocky bitch? *grins* Indeed. Crystal*
I have decided that about forty more pounds or so has to go before the beginning of next year. So far, down four. Excellent. Baby Chicken was doing the same plan. But then the other two chickens said they wanted to, also. The more the merrier.
Now here's my million dollar question: How in the hell did America get so royally fucked up over portion sizes??? Are you freakin' kidding me? I had a 1/2 cup bran cereal this morning with a cup of milk. Rock on. How much do I usually have? Usually twice that. And that's in a LITTLE bowl! I made meatloaf last night. I usually make a 3-4 lb meatloaf. Just slop that hamburger in there, add some eggs, bread crumbs, a bit of ketchup...bake. I used ONE pound of very lean hamburger last night and divided the small loaf into fours. I am utterly amazed at the difference a serving makes when you pay attention to it. All I can say is...wow.
Middle Chicken decides she's getting on board with this. Keep in mind, please...she's made out of sour candy and hot cheetos. I'm just saying. So she asks how many points are in a cup of strawberries. I inform her that would be one. So she gets out a cup to measure and looks at me with disbelief. *insert teenage voice laced with deep disgust* and says..."What in the heck is THIS all about?" I almost fell off the couch laughing. Because, you see, MC's serving size before was a quart of strawberries. She would rinse them, set them on her lap, and go to town. lmao Quite an eye-opener. Wish us luck! Grins*