#Eggcerpt Exchange!

 

Advice is what we ask for when we already 
know the answer, but wish we didn’t.”
INNOCENT TEARS
by Iris Blobel
♥♦♥  SYNOPSIS ♥♦♥ 
Becoming a parent can be daunting at the best of times, but for Flynn, a business lawyer in Melbourne, it almost pulls the feet from right underneath him. He’s become a father to six-year-old Nadine literally overnight! He had no idea about her existence, and the news throws him into chaos, even more so when he is asked to take over custody
With the help of Emma, an employee at the hotel where Nadine and her grandparents are staying, and his parents, Flynn tries to do the right thing. Yet, the right thing in his eyes differs from his parents’, and Emma is voicing her opinion as well. And right in the middle is little Nadine, still grieving the loss of her mother and finding a wonderful friend in Emma. There’s no doubt she’s afraid where and with whom she will settle.
But in the end, it’s a letter Flynn receives that helps him figuring out what to do.

♥♦♥  ~  OUT NOW  ~  ♥♦♥ 

 

♥♦♥ MEET THE AUTHOR ♥♦♥
IRIS BLOBEL
 

Iris Blobel was born and raised in Germany and immigrated to Australia in the late 1990s. Having had the travel bug most of her life, Iris spent quite some time living in Scotland, London as well as Canada where she met her husband. Her love for putting her stories onto paper has only emerged recently, but now her laptop is a constant companion.
Iris resides west of Melbourne with her husband and her two beautiful daughters.
Next to her job at a private school, she also presents a German Program at the local Community Radio.
Social Media Links:

Website: www.irisblobel.com

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/b-U0G5

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4067254.Iris_Blobel

♥♦♥ EXCERPT ♥♦♥
 
“My Mum is dead.”
Somewhat startled by this statement, Emma peeked over the reception desk into beautiful green eyes that belonged to a cute little girl with brown curly hair and a freckled button nose. She couldn’t help but smile. There was something in the girl’s eyes that held a hint of mischief and curiosity, as well as some sadness, and Emma was drawn to her instantly.
“Nadine!”
The stern voice of an elderly woman approaching the reception caused Emma to flinch. The girl stiffened with eyes wide open.
“My apologies for that,” the woman said to Emma, though her expression didn’t actually reveal any signs of apologies. The woman’s face reflected a life of bitterness, the lines appearing deep and weathered.
Emma smiled. “No need to.”
An elderly man joined them, and after a brief nod of acknowledgement she asked, “May
I help you?”
“Yes. We would like to check in. Gibbs. William and Teresa Gibbs,” the woman replied.
Emma typed the name on the keyboard, and while she waited for the details, she smiled at the girl, and asked, “Holidays?”
Nadine’s face spread into a small smile, but it was enough to show she had her two top teeth missing.
“And I see the tooth fairy has been to see you recently.”
“Excuse me–” Mrs. Gibbs glanced at Emma’s name badge. “–Emma. Can we proceed with the check-in please?”
“My apologies, ma’am.” Emma read the details on the screen, made a few notes and turned around to activate the automated door card in the back office. All the while, she felt Mrs. Gibbs’ glare on her and instinctively pulled on her navy uniform skirt feeling slightly uncomfortable.
Emma sighed inwardly. In her early twenties and she still lacked confidence in what other people thought of her. Tucking an escaping strand of her tawny hair behind her ear, she tried to keep a positive attitude because, after all, she loved working at the All Stars Hotel in Melbourne. It was something she always wanted to do—to greet people to this beautiful city and make their stay as comfortable as possible. And she was often told how popular she was with staff and guests alike for her positive attitude, her generous heart, and kind spirit.
“Ma’am, that’d be room five-o-two. If you go to the right over there, take the lift to the fifth floor and follow the hall to the near end, you will find room five-o-two on your right.”
Teresa Gibbs took the card from Emma and turned it in her hands.
“Ma’am, you slide that into the door instead of a key. I’m happy to ask someone to come with you and show–”
“I’ll be fine. Thank you.” And Mrs. Gibbs turned to go.
Emma leaned across the counter and smiled at Nadine. “Enjoy your holidays,” she said and winked. “And come see me sometime to tell me about the tooth fairy.”
“We’re not on a holiday,” the girl said in almost a whisper. “We’re here to meet my dad.” 
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The Problem with Meditation

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I just don’t think I’m cut out for meditation. My brain is one of those that doesn’t have an “off” button. But while I’m going through this illness, this radiation treatment, my dearest friend, Loraine, recommended I give it a try. I said, “How?” She said, “I’ll send you a link.”

She did. It was nearly bedtime anyway (I find it difficult to stay awake past 7:30 p.m. nowadays), so I thought, perfect time to give this a try! It was a guided meditation by a Master by the name of Davidji, who Loraine highly recommended. I clicked on the link she sent me, donned my headphones, and prepared to embark on the quest for the “off button” in my brain.

Well, the first thing out of Davidji’s mouth was “Get comfortable. If you’re not comfortable, then you won’t be back.” He was right—and I wasn’t particularly comfortable, sitting at my desk in front of my computer. Comfortable for working, but not for meditation. Okay, time to take this to the bedroom.

Come on, Davidji boy, follow me to my boudoir . . .frog-1073356_1280

Propping myself up on a bunch of pillows, I slipped off my shoes and got comfy. Then I picked up my iPhone and attempted to plug in my headset. No go. My new phone case is apparently not set up with a ready-to-use hole for the earphones, so after struggling with that for a few minutes, I tore the damn thing out of the case and plugged in the headset. There. Done.

I snuggled back into my pillows, clicked on the link, and hit “Play.”

Nothing.

It took another few minutes to realize that to listen to this recording on my iPhone, I needed a software app called SoundCloud. Okay, go to SoundCloud, hit download. It took FOREVER. Well, maybe not forever . . .but I was ready to meditate, Man! I was in the mood for relaxation and positive Chi and all that stuff. So, I stared at the little round download thingy and waited. And waited. And waited.

Ah! Finally done. Click open. Yes, I know this is a program downloaded off the Internet, and YES, I’m sure I want to open it. NOW.

Click. Swipe. Wait. Swear. Open. Push arrow. Push arrow AGAIN. Aha!

I hear Davidji’s soothing voice rumbling into my ears (it’s actually kind of a coarse, gruff voice, which I found surprising, but anyway . . .). I allow my eyes to drift closed gently, lay my hands on the bed beside me, palms up, and prepare for takeoff.relax-1813100_1280

About five or six minutes later, I’m thinking (which I shouldn’t be, I know—I’m supposed to be meditating), but I’m thinking, “wow, this is nice. Soothing. Maybe I can do this after—”

Click. Silence. In the middle of a sentence? Davidji, Baby . . .where did you go???

Apparently, Davidji’s voice was so soothing, he put my phone to sleep. But upon awakening it, I couldn’t get the damn recording to play no matter what I did.

Okay, plan B. I walk back into my office and look around. Unplugging all the doo-dads off my laptop is WAY more trouble than I’m up for right now, so I dig out my smaller, more portable Surface. Please, God, let it be charged. Ah! Great. It is.

So, I fire that puppy up, type in Davidji’s web address, and click the arrow.

Nothing happens.

It’s asking for my email address to join his mailing list. I type it in, misspelling it twice because now I’m not only exhausted, but frustrated as hell. I want to meditate, damn it! Let’s get this show on the road!

Okay, got it typed in. Now hit “Join.” Click. Click. Why isn’t this button live? Is my mouse dead? Go to touchscreen. Touch. Touch. Mash. Tap, tap, tap.

Nothing.

This isn’t working.

Before I end up cracking the touchscreen on my Surface, I slam it shut and stalk off to bed.

Maybe I’m right. I’m just not cut out for this mediation thing after all.

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~~~

Claire Gem writes sexy contemporary & supernatural suspense romance novels. You can find out more about her & her work at her Website or on her Amazon Author Page.

 

Down The Rabbit Hole: A Vortex of Swirling Colors

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Yup, that’s what it’s like. Whenever I start on a new book, birth a new story concept, my left brain keeps trying to tell my right brain what to do. Research, it says. Research! Research! Research!

Yeah, well, that’s what I do in my day job, so should I be surprised? But it really is amazing what a little researching, i.e., Googling, can do for that right brain muse.

For example: who knew there was actually a name for the phobia, “fear of visual art”? Well, there is. It’s called sportaldislexicartaphobia. Not sure I can say it, but then again, I live a mile or two from Lake Chaubunagungamaug, which I know I can’t pronounce. So we’ll stay with “fear of visual art,” and “Webster Lake.”owl-1791700_1280

Suffice it to say that before any of the real writing begins on this next Haunted Voices Novel, there will be lots and lots of research. I’m a stickler when it comes to factual accuracy—at least insofar as one who is definitely NOT an expert. I just have to be careful that I don’t waste so much time on fact-finding that I lose sight of my true, end-goal—another creepy, scary, thrilling ghost tale with a love story intertwined.

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I’ve gotten so far as to be able, though, to give you some clues. My heroine is a DNA analyst. She suffers from a phobia—that big long word I referenced above, i.e., fear of visual art.

My hero is a museum curator.

Now doesn’t that couple have potential for a match made in heaven?

Science and Art. As disparate as the concepts may seem, there is synchronicity: DNA forms the backbone of each individual human being, just as pigments define the architecture of an old master’s painting.woman-1283009_640

Coming Soon . . .another Haunted Voices novel . . .available for Pre-Order Here

Check out the first Haunted Voices Novel, Award-Winning Hearts Unloched, on sale today only for .99! Buy Now!

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