Showing posts with label visionary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label visionary. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 26, 2020

Angels on Overtime

Inspirational, metaphysical, visionary
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions

Ann Crawford will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.  

See below to sign up for the Giveaway.




This divine romantic comedy is a multiple award winner in the inspirational category. Humans Jack and Emily seem to be just trudging through the motions of life, to the frustration (lovingly, of course) of their angel teams, especially newbie angels Brooke and David. Angels on Overtime goes deep and high…it’s a great behind-the-scenes glimpse into our lives—and even into the scenes behind those scenes. And who's love story is this, anyway? Laugh your way to enlightenment with this fun, whimsical, captivating tale that reminds us it's never too late to find love and for dreams to come alive.

my review...
While not something I might have picked off the shelf to read from its description, this was a really enjoyable and sweet read. I don’t want to sound like the bah-humbug person that I normally am but I’m not an “angels” person. Nor am I a paranormal nor romance type genre person. However, even though I may not be into angels, this is really a feel-good book worth anyone’s time. I think you have to keep an open mind because it isn’t the sort of thing everyone is into. But what book in which genre is it that you don’t have to keep an open mind?

I said “feel-good” and I meant it. There’s humor, a little back and forth between the angels and the “earthly” beings. A little romance for that matter too.

Good read. Ann Crawford has several other books published. All have very good reviews.


read an excerpt...
Several drunks snore in a doorway. David notices that they shimmer with light. Their computing angels compute, their watching angels watch, and their whispering angels whisper to them: “You are loved. You are a blessing. You are a miracle. You can wake up to the light that you are—any time. You are loved. You are a blessing.”



Angela and David watch them for a while, until she taps him on the shoulder and points to one particular man. “Look, he’s about to die. You can see his family, his friends, even his dog—they’re all lining up to greet him.”

David notices that the dying drunk shimmers more than the others and that light beings, including one in a canine shape, hover over him.

“But don’t beings move on to their next incarnation, their next phase, whatever that is?” David asks. “How can all of them be waiting for him—and all those beings for all those humans—when they die?”

“It’s a hologram,” Angela explains. “One piece represents the whole. We’re all part of this whole, plus we can be anything at any time, anywhere. So our beloved ex-humans/light beings here can be on to their next phase, whatever that is, and they can be there to greet their loved ones when they pass on and congratulate them for a job well done.”

“But this one was a drunk!”

“That was his disguise, yes. We’re all drops in the vast ocean of infinity, cleverly disguised as a drunk or an angel or whatever we choose. And just living a life on Earth is a job well done. It’s not exactly easy here, you may have noticed.”

The drunk slowly opens his eyes. As he notices his three angels sitting around him, he blinks. When they don’t disappear—they’re really there, he realizes—he tries to sit upright but fails. The computing angel puts away his computer.

“Look, he’s about to talk to his angels,” Angela says. “He’s at the point where he can see between the worlds.”

“Am I dying?” the drunk asks his angels.

“Yes, my love,” responds an angel. “You are. But it’s not an ending. It’s a new beginning.”

“Anything’d be better than this.”

“You did well, my dear,” says another angel. “Earth is one of the toughest places in the universe.”

“Probably could’ve done better.”

“Yes, perhaps you could have,” responds the third angel. “Perhaps next time you will. It’s your choice. And it’s all good.”

Tears roll down the man’s face.

“Your family and friends are waiting for you.” An angel points to a shaft of light that has appeared overhead, much like a spotlight shining in a theater.

“They hated me!”

“They don’t any more.”

“I didn’t do too well here.”

“You evolved your soul. That’s all you needed to do.”

The drunk leans his head back and slumps as the life force leaves his body. His human-shaped form of light detaches itself from his physical body—hands and feet first, then his head, and then the rest of the light body follows. His light form starts to rise. A chorus of cheers and party sounds—barks, too—erupt from the group of light beings as his light form rises up to meet them.

“Atta boy!”

“Welcome home!”

“Mom! Dad!” the man cries. He throws his arms around them, but not very successfully. He tries again, and this time his arms pass through them a little less rapidly. Third time’s a charm: becoming accustomed to his arms of light, he slowly wraps them around his parents. After a few moments relishing the reconnection, he turns to the next being in the receiving line. “You! You sank my business! You took my entire life away from me! You turned me into a drunk! No—oh my God!” he hoots. “That was you?” After a couple of pats on the back that pass right through his former nemesis, the third pat meets its target. “That was you all along? Holy moly, you sure had me going!”

The shouts of welcome and greeting slowly start to fade up and away. The dog barks more raucously.

“Hey Buddy—how ya doin’ ole pal? It’s been such a long, long time!”

Angela and David smile at each other.

“Quite a homecoming,” David says.

“Oh, yes. They all get something like that.”

“What’s next for him? What’s next for his angels?”

“Whatever they want, whatever they choose.” Angela takes David’s arm and they disappear…

about Ann Crawford...
Ann Crawford has lived by one shining sea, then the other, then the prairie, and now the mountain – just to combine a couple of our great patriotic songs here. She grew up in New York, about an hour north of the city, and then went to college at Boston University. She
then lived in Northern California for 23 years until love at first sight called her to move to Kansas. She and her family moved to Colorado about 10 years ago and her writing nest has a view of a grove of trees in a beautiful garden, with the Rocky Mountains in the near distance.

Some of Ann’s social media bios say that she’s a world-traveling, high-flying, deep-diving, life-loving author. Those are all literally true: She’s visited all 50 states and 70+ countries and territories and counting. She can fly a plane (and she even aced the FAA exam!) and loves to scuba dive. Another hobby is playing the piano, including taking lessons.

Jobs? Oh, Ann’s had more than a few. She’s worked in advertising and marketing, talent management, and the financial industry. She’s also an award-winning filmmaker. For her first movie she went to Viet Nam with a group of veterans and filmed them doing humanitarian work and returning to their areas of operation. This movie won a very prestigious award. For her second movie she traveled the world talking to people from all walks of life about how we can make world peace. But her great love is writing books.

While Ann has won several book awards and is a #1 Amazon bestselling author, her genre is a little complicated; her novels could fall under women’s literature, chick lit, romantic comedy, inspirational/metaphysical/visionary, and fantasy/science fiction—and for a couple of her books it’s all of these at the same time! The main thrust of her books is taking an odd, complicated situation (a starbeing ending up in Kansas, anyone?) and providing myriad insights with usually even more laughs.

Her first book, Visioning, and her only non-fiction so far, was published in 2001 and it’s been updated twice since then. Over the years have come Mary’s Message (about Mary Magdalene), Angels on Overtime (an inspirational romcom), Spellweaver (about a healer during the witch hunts), Life in the Hollywood Lane (about an actor’s journey through grief after her BFF’s suicide, but also a quirky romcom), and Fresh off the Starship (an inspirational romcom). Coming soon is The Life of My Love (non-fiction about finding the love of your life) and Bazoomerangs, which is about 3 generations of women – an ageing hippie flower child, a middle-aged Trump-supporting bank executive, and a trans woman college student – that’ll also be chockablock with laughs and insights to this wild and wonderful life thing we have going on here.

This book is $0.99 during Ann's tour.

Ann’s Links: linktr.ee/anncrawford
Links:
Ann’s website: anncrawford.net

Angels on Overtime on Amazon:

a Rafflecopter giveaway




Tuesday, February 11, 2020

Waiting for Grace


FICTION / Visionary & Metaphysical
FICTION / Thriller
FICTION / Psychological
Date Published: February 4, 2020
Publisher: Wyatt-MacKenzie Publishing

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Eli Cranston, an attorney who himself suffered from the broken legal system and moreso from the loss of his wife and daughter, flees Los Angeles to a place that might hold – should he let it – forgiveness, redemption, and purpose: Bar Harbor, Maine. There, in a small white farm cottage by the sea, Eli launches a new career with Forward-Life Progression, a program that helps clients work past trauma and addiction to built a resilient new life. He finds Hope, cares for rescue horses and a pregnant cat. He is drawn to Rebecca, a farmer at the Farmer’s Market, and forges a revelatory relationship with Dr. Otto Gunther, a Holocaust survivor. With unopened boxes and a pile of letters marked “Return to Sender,” Eli can’t hide his secrets much longer. Is this his second chance? 

Read an excerpt...
“Oh my God I am going to need a new kitchen. Good thing Clem is already planning for  it.” Eli backed away from the stove with his hands in the air.

Hope quietly giggled, “I know. I can’t believe we are actually doing this.”

The pot of softly bubbling wax beckoned the first pinecone to dare  take a dip as the smell of honey filled the kitchen. Hope looked over her shoulder and said, “Remember, this was your idea.”

“Wait a minute here. I’m not sure it was a hundred percent my idea, young lady.”

 Eli had been trying hard not to react to the devastating blow, one of many, in Hope’s short life. He wanted to be a confidant and safe haven but he also knew it wasn’t his place to try to be her father. Rebecca suggested he strive for funcle. “You know, fun uncle,” she told him. As with most ideas she had, Eli thought it rather brilliant.

“Oh, yes it was a hundred percent your idea.” Hope carefully wrapped a piece of wick around the top third of the pinecone, picked it up with salad tongs and gently dipped it into the bubbling beeswax fondue. She let it sit for a few moments, turning it side to side as if she were toasting s’mores. “Oh shoot, get the waxed paper! We forgot the waxed paper!” Her voice held the energy of a rollercoaster virgin- nervous anticipation with a smidge of fear.
Eli jumped into action and grabbed the roll of Cut-Rite on the counter and tore off a piece. He smoothed it out on the cookie sheet next to the stove. “Okay, careful now, that is very hot stuff.” He watched as she gingerly guided the dripping pinecone to its destination. The waxy sheen quickly cooled to an opaque pale yellow and made the pinecone look like a chubby snowman. “So cool!” Hope was ecstatic. “We are going to sell so many of these!”

“Um, how many coats of wax do they need?” Eli held the Pinterest image on his laptop close to the experimental firestarter for comparison.

Hope said, with conviction, “Two to three. But I think two will do it.”

“Okay, well we have a ton of beeswax and Becca has a lot more if we need it. Might need to go pinecone hunting later.”

“How much should we sell them for? I’ve never sold anything before.”
           
“Well, we will have to see what the market calls for - supply and demand. But I was thinking $.60 each, two for a dollar.  The ones I saw at L.L. Bean were way more so I think it’ll be all about the presentation. Maybe we’ll get little boxes or something.”

            Hope placed the second firestarter on the paper, little drops of wax falling onto the floor and  stepstool on which she was perched. “Oh, I know, maybe like, some ribbon or something, make it fancy.”

            Eli looked at his email.

Dr. Corcoran following up regarding their Skype session last month. This will be interesting!

Kate with good news about a job and possible apartment. That a girl!
Home Depot reminding him of items in his cart he hasn’t yet purchased. I know, I know, waiting on Clem.

Rebecca forwarding a link to the Office of Child and Family Services. She didn’t waste any time.
           
            Clem walked down the stairs, one at a time, Eli could hear. “Hey Fella. That plumbing is brandy new and if yah know what kinda commode yah want I can swing ovah to Home Cheapo and pick it up fah ya.” He looked over at Hope. “Hey kid, whatcha got cookin?”

            Hope held up the first and coolest wax concoction and said, “Firestarters. We’re going to sell them on the last two farmer’s market days.”

            Clem stepped closer. “Oh would ya look at that? I could use those up ta camp. We get that fire goin’ every night. I’ll take a handful of ‘em when they’re ready. Jack likes to use cowboy juice but yah eveh get caught, yah get yerself in a jam fah sure.”

            Eli shook his head, “What on earth is cowboy juice?”
            Hope giggled. Clem said, “Oh it’s nothin’. Just a little gasoline, kerosene or chah-coal lightah. Hee heee! It sure does get it goin, no fah-tin’ around waitin’. But that’s why Jack has no eyebrows either.”

            Hope looked over her shoulder and exchanged an “Oh my God” with Eli.
            “So ah, Clem, you still on the fence about bringing a guest to Thanksgiving this year?”

            “Just give me the kinda terlet seat yah want, Fella, before I just install a five gallon bucket. They got nice ah-range ones at the sto-ah.”
           
            Eli wrote down the stock number for the toilet, pedestal sink, and faucet he wanted and sent Clem on his way.

            Hope carefully added more beeswax and wiped her brow, “He cracks me up.”

            Eli laughed, “He cracks me up, too. But he’s a really good guy. You know, not everyone you meet in life can go through tough things and still be a good person. He’s one that can. People like that are worth more than gold.”


            He waited to see if Hope wanted to add to the sentiment but she didn’t. She just quietly added to the pot little bits of wax, like a worker bee herself, contributing something seemingly insignificant, not realizing that without her, the honeycomb wouldn’t be complete. 
Little did she know that there were those who believed she ought to be treated like the queen.


About the Author

In addition to being a critically-acclaimed author, Caroline Zani is an intuitive medium and a teacher. Left-handed, Aquarius, middle-child, introvert, and empath, she absorbs everything around her which informs her storytelling and writing. Zani teaches others to develop their own intuition. Believing life is about balance and our bodies are where our souls live, she also teaches health, wellness, and stress management classes. She has contributed to articles on Bustle and Boston Voyager and has been a guest on many radio programs. She has one daughter, Amanda, and lives with husband Brian, puppy Tulip, and her soulmate Hermés the Siamese cat, on the hill, under the willows.

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