Friday, 11 April 2014

My tone's dead...yadav prashanth

A fake smile..I show YOu.
Your shadow is on my each dream
Still why my heart is so much lonely
I´ve voice, I can talk and I can shout
Still why silence is so much close to
Me and to each heartbeats of mine,
My tone´s death as my wounds pain
My tears can´t explain how I´m lost
I feel sorry for my heartbeats which
Are became so much lifeless in love
You can´t ever even guess how I´m
& how much pain there´s in your love..

I asked the stars...and the Godly Moon
So to send the angel into my dreams once for a second..
Care not they thought...
You my angel...
I Better bow my head to you...
To recognize my desperate heart..along with it's beat...
It skips every second you speak a ghost..

As an evil i dare not to vanish you from my sleep...
So there I kept dreaming all the days .

I ahte me...By yadav prashanth

I hate the fact when I get upset
I look at up at the sky and ask
Can you bless me her, as a present...

Out from this world I´ll be there
World beyond this unfair world
Yes, I´ll always be in that world
Where is no ideas of well doing
Wrong and right is something,,
Else, yes, there is a beautiful world of my dreams ..
I´ll be waiting for you right there behind my dream..
There, where´s a fully field of you ..smiling like flowers
Where my silence will break up
There my soul will live
I know just there is a world of me to be with you..
Where our love´ll wake & grow
Right there I´ll meet you my love.....

Distance it's only a day..I..a ... ask god...To give me day..
To fly off to you....But....God asked me to stay...
To stay...where i am ..away
There in your silence I breathe...
So it's your heart from now on...

I hate the fact when I get upset
I look at up at the sky and ask
Can you bless me her, as a present...
Just for a while? I miss her a lot..!!

Thursday, 10 April 2014

I see yadav prashanth

I was searching me in the ashes.....
And found me shining as gold in your Hearts every single corner
As life, Vibrating breathe...
I thought I was burning as fire but
I look, I was, I was shining in you
After losing everything I attained
Myself in your eyes, in you heart
I felt me in your words I´m in you.....
So, shall I be in you forever...

You feel me as pain
But I feel you as a smile as
Breaths, as yourself in yourself...

I attained heaven when my fortune
Turned me against all those fire...
Why should I fire, when I´ve you
When I know you can forget me
Distance can´t make distance
I will love you more then forever
By touching my soul you made
The distance go long away from
Our reach, from our destination
By falling in the abode of love...
My heart received peace in love

Though cannot I see you...
I wait for you at every unseen moment...

Forever yours
SPY. yadav prashanth

Every  threat shall forget it's purpose,
If you are enough strong at your will
To supervise the steps of ladder to superior level.
Will a wish snd root it deep,
Care not any applause or  pause ,or any delivered hinderence,
Only dream in you shall burnn for thousands of years,Glowing bright.
Make a journey to peak and unique one,
So that none has suffered as you did this one last time.
Plot a plan ,so that enemy  breached of every drop of blood.
You hunger of kingship ,
Make your dream come true.

Isn't  far the day,
The day,that lanthern on street shall light your way ,
In empty  cimmerian way,
Ploughing it's own life for you ,as a deed of honour.
Isn't far the  Time ,
The time, that  you  dress fancifull to pulbish your grandeur.
Shall be Granted  by god.
All you need to pretend uncivilized,
And stand away distant enough ,from your wants,
Till and untill your aim satifies..

Make habituated to win,
With which every second spent wise.
Don't run into things you cannot afford .
As the poorness ,that colour of every nation,
Spreded as a disease ,from each year that world can't afford.
When you are victorious,
The floods of rivers , like the out break of revolt ,
That bleaches every shore pale without a single penny to  spare.
Will forget  own name ,to flash at and stays behind,
When you pass over the bridge of difficulties.
By your great  faith on God .

Walk miles,just not to run wrong direction,
Be a guard to the future missile.
Nothing can be gained ,in the way without pain.
The greatest example you shall never exile.


The present..............

A present , a gift  is a desperate desire to delight TRUTH IN YOU.
There clearness is cute, rich to confuse unwantedness.
Hire a messenger ,even hug him,
As he brings in some exult thoughts from other hearts for  you.
And  reply him with caring words ,IN SUCH A WAY,
So the letter is filled with concern for sorrow,
Fireworks as happy moments shall be blast into up sky,in  answer.
As a present  of festive  mood and shall not lack your honesty.
Shook  generous ego ,
Off the shoulders upto last breathe.
A win is not on oppenent ,
But on reasons led you to contend a fight.
Compel  puzzled selfish taste away ,
To excel the joy. is the present you give to self.

Every tune in us either wrong or right ,
Given,shall be acceptable in hUmble.
Bare this accusation  strive to win, is the sole reason we  born.
 As a bee of honey ,
Cursed of theft  of elixir from blossoms is not a convict.
And wishfull magical present of nature .

Though a lot fun ,not noted.
Shall not emphasize  towards unillumination of rejoice that has lived.
As clear as fresh face of a  self leess nomad
Shall be your thoughts, dull and clear.
Similar to moon's glow on a No moon Day
Is the presnt to the humans, a thorne tense relief.

But soon ,these little things,
The times we laugh whole heartedly.
Cannot be forgotten for entire life.
When walked with stick not much distance but enough far ,Old.
Have costed much to recall the memories of monuments built in past.
Every step we pass by ,we shall see a present of past.
Does not know when this lightless morning ends,
But knew for sure ,it reaches holyness and truth , after eclipse.
As toes  felt gloomy shade
After  walking in tormented way of  testification in sands.
An Oasis is the presnt of hope.
Walking on the shores of decisions,
You shall be a present yourself,
Just a sa messenger and a sparrow, rejoice for your own work.

I'm different.....

I am such accoustic,
Similar to the showers of rain,
Eager to touch the heart of coloured blossom,
For the scent to attain  the feel.

I am such strange,
Same as the unpredicted path of an arrow launched .
Cannot define,unless it hit destiny.

I was so foolish,
Same as the root of a plant.
Responsible for the glorius establishment of leaves into world.
But hidden deep inside ,by covering the layer of land.
As I struggled, the entire path,
I hardly forgot the times I laugh.
So me memoreis ,I fuled with great empires ruled by role models.
I found no time to write other lines,
So I wish to stop this down.


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A light..By yadav prashanth

A shrine amidst of devoid  desert is worth a life,
For the dying.
Choose a shephered for heaps of memories in you .
To safeguard from up rising storms.
Stare at every clink of coin tossed high,
Withought any  temporental perceptions.
Cut loose the anchors,that bind your tears with past.
Row into the sea of happiness and joy ,escaping liniency of life.
It is all despair causing betrayael to self.
Unstow every accord,into the sea of thoughts,
To defy the depth of phrases left unwritten,
At which you were warned alertness.

All the saples and  shrubs,digest the twinkle of soil,
Not just to survive but to eestablish their presence.
So , you a seed sown ,to replenish,
Into a very tenderly plant.
You were born to see warmish shine,
So you are aboard onto the surface of land to feel alive.

Wednesday, 9 April 2014

A love story of a star And the Mighty MOON

I woke up as usual into a dream...
Came the angel took me up....up in towards the dark sky..
Soon as It was very high..
I saw only one star.......
I asked her, Why only
She replied other stars haven't born...

The reason I asked...?

You got many questions..She smiled..

I was confused....only one star?

I went near up to that star and asked..
Why are you alone?
Waiting for the Moon....It replied.
From how many days..? I asked again.
From two centuries...!! It replied..

I stood startled...

What made the star to wait so....
The shine of the moon....Angel replied..

Not love ...just the shine....i laughed.
You cannot wait just for shine whole your life....I said to the star..

I deserve only the shine...told the star..with sorrow filled eyes

And why today the Moon has not showed up...?I asked...
To angel..don't know she replied..

Angel was afraid because it was a no moon day...

The star waited waited....and waited Just for the shine...

The shine that makes itself glow brighter ,
The shine that makes it happy...
Just for the shine..

I teared my eyes , because the star is going to break it's heart.
Then The night went off...

I returned to my exhausting world....

And I again dreamed.....

But when i woke up...there were thousands of stars in the sky..
I smiled..But angel wasn't there....
The star broke up Into thousands , lakhs and innumerable pieces ...
So that it wanted all the shine from the moon...
For it kept dying and birthing Just For The Shine...

The void it left in the open space with it's death became the Black hole itself.....

I looked up into the sky....clod breeze moving around...
Waiting for take into dreams once more..
But she wasn't there...Testing me...

I promised my self...I shall wait not days..not years , not decades , not centuries..
I will be waiting eons ..for you....
I smiled at god..
your name on my hand still shines brightly angel.

The lost path..By yadav prashanth

Did I  unveil, the way to walk into  my heart ?
Who escorted you into  enormously  small world of mine..?
Constraining me into bitter past..
You curled my dreams ,with your fingertips.
This classified calmness away from you,
Addled my surroundings.
To think of you and your smile is like a curse now..finding heavens.
Where are you ..?
Away from the sight so that,the eyes awaiting you flamed into tears.

Every morning angel through this window...
Flows in the air,
Which cannot make to speak nothing else except you..
Circling birds singing sweetness,speak of you every second,as I hear so.
Waking a smile on my face,
An eminent seen I could not explain.

Sunday, 19 January 2014

Review Of the Oblong Box..

Reviving The Classics...

From the haunting stories to a slow started nightmare... a great passage in a haunted Ship, over the haunted sea. The revealing and as a surprise the new kind of story telling sprang in from the Hands of Poe, The great once again. The story curiously stated with the curiosity of Poe .The co passenger ,our victim who sacrificed his life in madness or simply in possession by his dead wife, or could say, obsessed with his wife's sudden death...He gave his life and how he had bought the death nearer to all the co passengers travelling along with him to New York On the plane sea..
Cleverly this time, Poe stood as enthusiastic personality always insufficient at his thinking , and always drew conclusions of what was in the box that his once room mate Friend,Mr. Wyatt , an artist had bought along with him to travel to the same destination . The disclosing of the idea that he was carrying the dead body at the end was suspense. The story would keep your brain itching with the mis-leadings of Poe but, drawing us in a correct direction TOWARDS A SURPRISE. The reprise was beautiful..and the reader I could say is just satisfied...A horror in the veil of suspense with agony later revealed by his death.. Everyone would pity for the Death of the  artist..and the cruel smile at the end By always a usual.....
A great sketch of few characters..a great manipulation an Ingenious plot....well discarded at the end.....
I was merely breathing towards the End..Again , I met a great story..foreseeing TO READ A GOOD ONE Tomorrow.

Saturday, 18 January 2014

Review Of Poe's The Pit and The Pendulum

Reviving The Classics in Literature of 18th century..

So breath taking, so terrorizing ,so inhuman....the tale that can fork your brain out of your head with it's verse inching out from your eyes at length.
In fact the , words that torture, the death that nobody would desire how dangerous and how  mysterious a death would be was described at length in this short written horror narration.
Every one know that one day there would come hunting their death. And when such death comes , though invitingly or uninvited... how it torture  a soul that's already facing a heartless insanity was described could view the vision of so narrated dungeon within you. This  epic tale, thus demonstrate a hunger of death crouching in to feast over a helpless creature , running helplessly around his own cell..

I would strongly recommend this tale.....
Surely it will make you to block out...
I am in a shock as I write this ....a horror I never witnessed , i neither felt that pain a death cause to close as it happened to me.

Once more Poe lives in his favorite genre of horror and fancies  himself....with the horror. HATS OFF !!! POE

Wednesday, 15 January 2014

Review Of Tell TALE Heart..

Reviving classics In English Literature...

As trying to make up the knew scenario...I was once again driven into the classics of 18th Century Writers. It would be prominent to say Poets. I got to Google for it,  once again. But talking of the powerful writers of the prescribed period . The maddest name I heard Was Edgar Allan Poe, The powerful and Splendid as it sounds. And i happened to go through some of his Writings has been three nights I was With him..
Today I'm going to discuss one of His so well Portrayed Antagonism...A TELL TALE HEART.

The story of a murder enclosed with drama and dilemma was a well fusion of extraordinary words that any writer must go through.
It begins slowly.....Understanding the minute details of a psychopath...And not mentioning it cleverly deluding the reader and drawing him into a pair of conclusion that how soft a murder could be done...and how fascinating it could be done with the ecstatic wordplay, for the writer has without choosing a mystical or whimsical portrays. Keeping it simple and true , Critical ,yet Clear. This was Beautiful..It was really a melody of passion into a lore tail....Hat's off !!!  I sat to this brilliant writer...
What’s It To You?
by Judy Irwin


What if nothing was the worst thing you could do?
For 13-year old Tim Stockdale, it's all about keeping his head down and fitting in with the friends he's managed to make at his new school. His older brother, Eli, is the opposite. He's trying to set up a Gay-Straight Alliance at his high school, where he's a junior. Even though the school board is against it, Eli’s not afraid of what the fallout might be.
So when Tim's new friends start to bully a kid they think is gay, Tim's torn - he doesn't want to do anything to risk being cast out of the crew. But when Eli is hurt in a protest, Tim's own failure to do anything starts to get under his skin. Will he find his way at his new middle school, and figure out what's really worth standing up for?



Excerpt One:

Tim is out on the driveway, playing around with the basketball. So far, he's bounced it hard off the garage door, twice, and each time his mom sticks her head out the side door and shouts, "Keep it down!" at him.

When he bounces it off the metal garage door for the third time, he keeps an eye on the side door, expecting his mom to pop out, really mad this time. But nothing happens.

Tim dribbles the ball up and down the driveway, he's moving fast enough so that he's breathing hard. Every time he comes up to the top of the driveway, near the hoop, he takes a throw. The first four times it goes right in, but on the fifth throw it goes really wild and bounces off onto the lawn.

As he jogs over to grab the ball, Tim hears the side door open. He turns to face his mom. "Sor-ry," he drawls, with a grin. "Didn't mean to - Mom, what is it? What's wrong?"

Tim stares at his mother.

Her face is blotchy, and her nose is red. She's holding her purse in one hand, and car keys and a tissue in the other. She brings the hand with the tissue and keys up to her face, and rubs at her nose with the tissue.

"Tim, it's bad. It's Eli, and it's bad," she says, wiping at her eyes. "I have to get over to the hospital. I can't go into all the details, I just have to go." She unlocks the car door, and throws her purse onto the passenger seat.

"What - what happened?" says Tim. "Is he OK?"

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Author Judy Irwin's books are about kids dealing with everyday stuff, like parents and divorce, friendships and bullies, and figuring out how to handle different situations and circumstances. She lives in Toronto with a dog, a cat, and a hamster, plus her husband and two children, ages 11 and 14. Judy always wanted to be a writer, and wrote her first book in fourth grade. It was about a boy named Japan, who lived in Japan. She studied English Literature at the University of Toronto, and some of her favorite authors are Judy Blume, Laurie Halse Anderson, Beverly Cleary, Edward Eager and Andrew Clements, and especially F. Scott Fitzgerald.

'What Did You Say?', Judy's first book, is about 12-year-old Tash. The book takes place at a trailer park up north. 'We're Done', Judy's second book, takes place in a middle school. It's about Luke, who first appears in 'What Did You Say?' Tash and Jon, from the first book, are also characters in this one. In 'What's It To You?', Judy's third book, 13-year-old Tim Stockdale (who first appeared as Luke's classmate in 'We're Done'), is figuring out where he fits in at Carlyle.

For Judy, the middle school years are especially interesting since they can be some of the most challenging for kids. It's a time when kids are faced with new issues, and bigger problems, than many have experienced before. As they figure out how they feel, and decide how to respond, they're also figuring out who they are, and shaping the nature of the person they will grow into.


Happy Medium
by Meg Benjamin



Love is good for the soul… unless it’s one that you’re trying to exorcise.

Ray Ramos has a problem–the King William District mansion he and his business partner purchased for a fast renovation needs more work than expected. Ray could use a quick infusion of cash. Enter Emma Shea, assistant to Gabrielle DeVere, the star of American Medium. Gabrielle is looking for San Antonio houses to use for her televised séances, and Ray’s fixer upper seems to fit.

When Gabrielle does a sample séance, Ray and Emma become the target of a touchy ghost with no respect for boundaries. After Ray learns his family has a special affinity for ghosts, the two decide to investigate the haunted house. It doesn’t hurt that Emma is immediately attracted to the laconic Ray or that Ray is intrigued by the buttoned-down beauty who seems determined to hide her considerable assets behind sober business suits. But can the two of them fight off a vengeful succubus bound to the house while getting a lot closer than either of them planned?



Excerpt One:

Join hands everyone,” Gabrielle intoned in her most resonant medium voice.

Ramos gave her a piercing look, then took hold of her hand, extending his other hand across the table to Emma.

Gabrielle’s fingers were faintly damp, but Ramos’s were dry and hard. His calluses rubbed against Emma’s palm. For a moment she felt something like a mild electric shock tingle through her fingers. She pulled her hand away, staring.

Ramos stared back, his eyes wide.

Take his hand, Emma.” Gabrielle frowned. “We need to get on with this.”

Emma extended her hand again, touching her fingers cautiously against Ramos’s palm. Nothing. Maybe she’d imagined the whole thing. Probably she’d imagined the whole thing.

Gabrielle raised her head, gazing up into the dim shadows overhead. “Is there anyone here? We call on you to come forth.”

Across from Emma, Ramos rolled his eyes. He had that sour look again. Just hold on a little longer, and we’ll be out of your way.

Come forth,” Gabrielle whispered.

Ramos looked at her, then shook his head slightly.

And the candles went out.

Emma’s head shot up, and she turned toward the fireplace. There hadn’t been any flickering, any feeling of a breeze. One moment the candles had been burning, and now they weren’t. She gaped at Ramos, who was gaping back at her, his forehead furrowing. Somewhere overhead a door slammed.

At the head of the table, Gabrielle seemed not to notice. “Spirit forces, we call to you,” she crooned.

Something touched the back of Emma’s neck, a quick brush, so light she wasn’t sure she’d felt it. Then it came again, more definite this time, fingertips along the edge of her shoulder. She whipped her head to the right, but she couldn’t see anything in the gathering darkness.

Ramos’s hand jerked against hers. She turned back to him, but he was watching Gabrielle.

No, not Gabrielle. Beyond Gabrielle, toward the fireplace. The mantle glowed dimly in the twilight, as if there were lights beneath it. Then, one by one, the votive candles thumped to the hearthstone in front of the fireplace, bouncing lightly. Another door slammed upstairs.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Meg Benjamin is an author of contemporary romance. Her Konigsburg series for Samhain Publishing is set in the Texas Hill Country and her Ramos Family trilogy for Berkley InterMix is set in San Antonio’s King William District. Meg’s books have won numerous awards, including an EPIC Award for Contemporary Romance, a Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for Indie Press Romance, the Holt Medallion from Virginia Romance Writers and the Beanpot Award from the New England Romance Writers. Meg lives in Colorado with her DH and two rather large Maine coon cats (well, partly Maine Coon anyway). Her Web site is and her blog is You can follow her on Facebook (, Pinterest (, and Twitter ( Meg loves to hear from readers—contact her at

Happy Medium, the third in the Ramos Family trilogy, is available from Amazon ( and Barnes and Noble (
The Illustrious Client
by Sandra de Helen



Book Two of the Shirley Combs and Dr. Mary Watson series, THE ILLUSTRIOUS CLIENT, shows us the private investigator and her sidekick sharing an office, and introduces their receptionist, Lix. They are hired to influence a young international pop star, Oceane Charles, to pry her away from her older, richer, player of a girlfriend. The cast is made up of people with various ethnicities and backgrounds, and of course the job soon includes solving a murder mystery. Along the way, Mary discovers her latent lesbianism. Set in Portland, Oregon on a superyacht, in a hospital VIP room, at Rose Festival, and other fun places.



Excerpt One:
Oceane was moaning with desire and ready for more when Zaro suddenly stopped what she was doing and sat up.
What is it?” Oceane asked.
There was a sound outside the bedroom window. They both heard it this time. Zaro jumped up, threw back the drapes, opened the window and climbed out.
Come back here, you!” She was actually chasing someone.
Zaro, wait! Let me call the police. See, I’m calling them now.” Oceane was dialing 911 on her cell phone when she heard Zaro scream. She climbed out the window, pulling at her robe with one hand, still holding the phone in the other. Khalil came running from somewhere, yelling “Stop her! Stop her!”
Khalil and Oceane reached Zaro at nearly the same minute. Zaro was screaming and writhing in pain. She couldn’t tell them what had happened, but it was clear she’d been attacked. Khalil took the phone from Oceane and spoke with the emergency dispatcher asking for both police and an ambulance.
It looks like acid.”

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Sandra de Helen’s books as well as short stories are available at bookstores, libraries, and online. Her poetry and plays are published in several journals. Samples of her works are on her website Even though she says she isn't a "joiner," de Helen is a member of the Dramatists Guild, Oregon Writers Colony, the Golden Crown Literary Society, and International Centre for Women Playwrights. Like her at, follow her on Twitter @dehelen, and read her blog at She lives with her cat Stanton in Portland, Oregon where they both type.

Buy Link:

The Recipe
by Maisy Dee



Craig has pined for Emily since the fourth grade. Imagine his surprise when, when at the start of his junior year, he discovers that she has finally noticed him. When Emily returns to school the fall of her junior year, she finds that her old friend Craig has transformed from a gangly, brace-faced adolescent into a blue-eyed babe who is making her insides tingle.

Craig and Emily stir up a sweet and sexy adventure, exploring new recipes both in and out of the kitchen. But when things heat up on New Year’s Eve, Craig is not sure he can stand it. Is he man enough for Emily? And what recipes have his closest friends Ryan and John been cooking up without telling him?

In alternating points of view, Emily and Craig search for the secret ingredients of friendship, love and intimacy. This isn’t really a book about cooking. Recipes, however, are included.



Excerpt One:

Craig came back to school that September looking different. Or maybe it just seemed like it. He didn’t get much taller, or at least not like he did a couple of years ago when he came back after a summer growth spurt that made you wonder about those growth hormones in milk. This time was different. OK, it’s true he had finally gotten his braces off. The last one of our friends. But it was more than that—he was kind of, uh, hot. And well, when he walked into Trig, sat down next to me, smiled, and said, “Hi, Emily,” I was caught off-guard, to say the least. I inhaled sharply, and then felt heat in my cheeks. Shit, I thought.
Hey, stranger,” I said a little too loudly, trying to recover my equilibrium. Class began, saving my ass, but I found it hard to concentrate. What on earth was my problem? This was Craig, the kid who used to chase me around the play- ground during recess at Green Acres Elementary. I remember him throwing up all over the place in Mr. Thompson’s class in 4th grade. We shared the same group of friends through the embarrassments of puberty, early romances, and health class (sex, drugs, and ewww—the birth video). We hung out in a group all the time, but had never really talked much one on one. Craig was Craig. Nice enough, but I really never thought about him much.
This was the guy who was suddenly making it hard for me to breathe?

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

It was Back to School Night, and my parents were headed to the High School. I looked up from my book long enough to describe all my teachers. For example: “My science teacher will be wearing black chinos pulled waaay too high and a short-sleeved button-down with pens in the pocket. He has Mr. McGoo glasses and a three-strand comb-over. He’s totally weird.”

My parents returned to tell me a) I was grounded until I brought my grades up, and b) I had an uncanny ability to describe people. The teenage me, stressed out from deciding who I was and what I was supposed to do, snapped, “Yeah? Well, what job does that get me?!”

My mother gazed at me calmly. “You could be a writer. But for now, you’re grounded.”

I have never forgotten that moment. I took creative writing classes in college and continued to read a lot, but it wasn’t until I had children of my own that the idea for “The Recipe” came to me. My girls are avid readers, and I spent a lot of time hanging out in the youth room at the public library. I read a ton of current YA novels, and reread books from my teenage years. I began to look for contemporary stories about early sexual experiences that were as honest and non-judgmental as Judy Blume’s Forever. I didn’t find any, but I did find a dangerous mixed message.

On the one hand, overwhelming, irresistible (even paranormal) passion is presented as the ideal romantic experience. That unrealistic expectation, along with all the other unrealistic sexual images they find in books, movies, cable tv, and the internet, is bound to result disappointment in the real thing.

On the other hand, sexually active teen characters in books are invariably punished with pregnancy, violence, humiliation, heartbreak, or a sexually transmitted disease so virulent that it will not even let you die. Yes. If our teens give in to their normal, healthy impulses, they will surely become vampires.

So I decided to write a book about first love and “the first time” that would offer my daughters one story that is a little closer to the truth–things are bound to be less than perfect, and that’s not the end of the world (or the beginning of life after death, no matter what the French call it.) The process was difficult, rewarding, and a lot of fun, and there’s a good chance my daughters will never read it, because who wants to read a book about sex that your mother wrote. Gross.

I’m currently working on my second novel, and yeah, there will be more teens having sex in that one too.


@MaisyDeeRecipe (twitter)


Ron Doade with Susan Sloate


Meet Robby Aihn, the newest star in the self-help universe and author of the runaway bestseller, Realizing You, now struggling with his first taste of fame. Though his five principles for good living are changing other people’s lives, his own life is starting to fall apart. When Robby stages a lavish self-help conference in Dallas, he attracts others with their own secrets: his estranged wife and unhappy teenage daughter; the businessman pursuing his own agenda; the all-star pitcher facing the end of his career; and the shy co-author Robby never acknowledged, who is searching for meaning in her own life. Join Robby and the others on their journey toward understanding and fulfillment, in this truly novel approach to changing YOUR life.

EXCERPT: Please choose ONE to use with your post.

Excerpt 1

Liz liked him like this—listening to other people’s problems, thinking about how to help them. This was the Robby whose principles in coaching and teaching had been the basis of his bestselling book. They were solid principles, and he’d taught them for years, and Liz knew herself that they did change people’s lives.The Robby she had trouble admiring had emerged as the book shot up the bestseller lists. Always neat and well groomed, he’d now become fanatically clothes-conscious. He’d recently begun to order custom-made suits and add monograms to his expensive English shirts. While she decided how many new computers they needed for the office, he flew to New York for fittings with the city’s most exclusive tailor. She hired and trained new staff, and he consulted a professional colorist and lightened his hair.When Robby solicited her opinion afterward, Liz asked, “What about the people who were fans before, some of our biggest customers? Won’t these flashy changes bother them?”

“You’re not looking at the big picture,” he said patiently. “These people are coming to me for answers. They expect to see someone who has them.”
Liz chose her words carefully. “And someone who has the answers is—attractive? Youthful? Using a facelift?”
“Stop it.” He glared at her. “The spa people I talked to said weekly facials were a good idea. They said it would make my skin softer and make me seem more approachable.”
Liz couldn’t think of any polite answer to that.
The current Robby had shown up after Marie moved out. It didn’t help that Liz knew why. But what did his wife expect him to do, now that he was finally creating a national impression?
It’s difficult seeing him humbled, Liz thought. Robby had worked a long time for success and done whatever was necessary, cheerfully and willingly, to achieve it. Yeah, he’d gone overboard with the glitzy success guy. It was still hard watching him hurt—not because he’d failed, but because he’d succeeded, after years of striving.  And seeing him hurt over his family’s defection upset Liz. It wasn’t right, but there was nothing she could do about it.
Liz thought all these things while she watched Robby stare out the window. Sad that things hadn’t been good for him personally since the publication of Realizing You.
Professionally, things were fantastic. The book was a runaway bestseller, the website hits had gone crazy, Robby’s online presence had gone viral. One month after the book shot to number one, Liz arranged joint ventures, after five years of trying, with three of the top personal-development people in the country, all who eagerly endorsed Robby’s work and sought his endorsement as well.
They’d taken a huge step forward. Robby’s plan, scrawled on a piece of paper torn from a dime-store notebook, was starting to come true, in a big way. He’d been aiming at this success for a decade, and he’d brought in Liz five years ago to set up the structure and foundation while he set about becoming the persona in whom people could put their faith.
Both of them had succeeded, but now Robby was failing in all the important areas of his life.

“He’s impossible,” Marie said through her teeth. “I don’t know how we lasted this long.”


RON DOADES is president of Ronald Doades & Company, a consulting firm that, since 1977, has helped the people of large and mid-size energy companies improve their individual and corporate performance results by learning from the best-practice experiences of others. A popular speaker on the topic of managing change for optimal results, he holds an MBA from Columbia University and an MS in Psychology from The New School in New York City. Visit him at
Author of STEALING FIRE (#2 Amazon bestseller and Quarter-Finalist in 2012 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Contest), co-author of FORWARD TO CAMELOT: 50TH ANNIVERSARY EDITION and REALIZING YOU. 2003 edition of FORWARD TO CAMELOT, a time-travel thriller, was a finalist in 3 book competitions: 2004 IPPY Awards, 2004 Arizona Authors Assn. Literary Competition and 2008 Beach Read Competition. It was also a #6 Amazon bestseller in Sci-Fi/Fantasy, optioned in 2005 by Fast Carrier Pictures for film. Also author of 17 published young-adult books (fiction and non-fiction, sports, biography, romance, etc), which includes Silver Medal/2007 Children's Moonbeam Awards, for RAY CHARLES: FIND ANOTHER WAY! from Bearport Publishing. MYSTERIES UNWRAPPED: THE SECRETS OF ALCATRAZ (2008, Sterling Publisher) led to author appearance on MYSTERY QUEST: ALCATRAZ, a special for The History Channel, summer 2009. Playwright of two produced plays, screenwriter (2 screen properties optioned), sportswriter (major-league baseball and power volleyball). Founded and chaired the East Cooper Authors Festival in May 2007, a program that brought together published authors with students from primary schools through high school outside Charleston, South Carolina in programs designed to excite students about reading. Inaugural program reached more than 8,000 students in one day.