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February 2015
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Now Available on Amazon at super low prices:  Smiles and Cries Evidence of Ambition Thoughts From The Author The Power of Poetry Exotic Expressions  Find Great Reads by Author Eric F. Williams on Amazon at super low prices right now at the following links:  https://amazon.com/author/poetericfwilliams and http://amzn.com/1494790947 #AuthorEFW #AmazonBooks #GreatReads #LowPrices

195 Views 0 Comments Permalink Tags: books, new, amazon, author, williams, eric, f
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Soul Ties

Posted by BrokenHeartedGirl Feb 21, 2015

Would anyone be interested in reading my preview for my first novel Soul Ties? The storyline revolves around heartbroken Aria Richards who discovers a past life in the 1920's in New Orleans. Her past starts to unravel after a past life regression through hypnosis. Aria starts to piece together the present day issues of an on again, off again relationship she has not been able to let go of. Bringing her to a higher level of consciousness Aria is now on a quest to find the true meaning of eternal life & love.

 

https://www.createspace.com/Preview/1165086

 

Twitter: @RihTweetMe

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336 Views 1 Comments Permalink Tags: authors, relationships, review, publishing, poetry, story, life, preview, fiction, love, spirituality, paranormal, dreams, magical, happen, brian, buddha, mystical, miracles, regression, past, weiss
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Your boyfriend Is cheating on me

 

       Most girls would be offended , I on the other hand think it is sort of romantic. I know what you might be thinking, it is 2015.. who even emails anymore?

       Your boyfriend was so persistent, after receiving numerous explicit emails that almost seemed to be straight from a erotic romance novel. With his profuse amount of errors and vividly describing my body to the t, I knew he had written these himself and I eagerly wanted to read more. His words seemed flawless and I didn't want his sentences to end. Every paragraph seemed to get shorter and shorter. I started to read slower taking every one of his carefully, strategically chosen words in. As I was about to finish, his words had just stopped mid sentence. Almost burning a hole on my phone screen with my eyes, I then started to fill in the blanks with my own thoughts. Which were not nearly as captivating as I knew his would be. His mouth watering words seemed to float around in my head for the next couple of days. His writing was lucid and it was almost like his words were demanding to be felt. At least I wanted to be, after reading his emails for the 86th time. I re read them religiously hoping it would fight my urge to respond. I mistakenly thought I would eventually be exasperated and secretly hoped the lust in his words would die. How foolish of me, I had already fallen in love with every one of his words. In fact I craved them, something that seemed so innocent I wanted in the worst way possible. I could not help but think this was so much better, than any of the 50 shades of blue novels people were reading. This was real and I was the main character. I would like to think I have more will power, at the end of the day it seemed I had a copious amounts of reasons why I should not engage. Although in introspection, responding to an email seemed harmless. After the 86th time, I replied. In a click of a button I would lose all respect I so desperately wanted from him.

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My Brother: A Different Shade of Me is a story about two young boys growing up in rural Plaquemine Parish,  Louisiana in the 1850?s. Even though they grew up on opposing sides of  the fence, John (white) and Adam (slave), they grew up closer than  brothers. One night Adam was attacked by a group of ruffians. Knowing no  sheriff would be called and no sheriff would come. John Jr. enlisted  the aid of Adams three sisters Victoria, Elizabeth, and Rebecca to help  him find and punish the culprits. This is a story of love, friendship,  humor, betrayal, vengeance, and blind justice.

 

Available at Amazon.com

Createspace.com

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conociendo a la poeta

Posted by odanamar Feb 13, 2015

I write poetry because?.because i like it, because poetry for me is freedom.

porque escribo poesias? porque me gusta,porque para mi la poesia es la libertad.

es la forma mas sensible en que una persona puede expresar sus sentimientos y sus emociones.

mis libros: lirios azules y delirio

kindle-  unlimited

edition spanish

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Could you give a billion dollars away and help other people's dreams come true.  Check out the preview to my upcoming book and offer feedback.  Post yours as well and I will check it out.

 

https://www.createspace.com/Preview/1162314.

 

Thanks

Chris

240 Views 0 Comments Permalink Tags: selling, book, amazon, createspace, promotion, money, review, writing, hope, redemption
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Flyingsober Introduction

Posted by flyingsober Feb 4, 2015

I wake up freezing with my face just inches from the cracking paint of a ceiling.  As I reach down to grab the covers, of which I find there are none, my eye catches the first glimpse of orange. Like pumpkin orange, but even brighter.  My memory starts to come back, along with a horrible, pulsating headache.  The shaking starts, then the tears come.  I’ve done it again.  I’m in jail somewhere, and even with my foggy head and slow memory, I know it has something to do with alcohol.  I realize that I’m on the top bunk of a metal bunk bed.  Below me, someone is snoring quite loudly.  What time is it?  No watch on my arm.  The lights are flooding into the room, or now I know, the cell.  I can see my breath.  I’ve got to get out of here, I will freeze to death.  Well actually freezing was the least of my worries.  The room was about the size of my bathroom at home.  Oh, I just want to go home. I can vaguely remember my husband Todd, refusing to pick me up.  Did I call anyone else?  I can’t remember.  Lord, I need a blanket, or coffee, or both.  So getting back to the small room, uh, cell, it was small.  Yes I said that already, sorry.  Anyway, the bunk bed took up most of the space, and then there was a half wall with a toilet on the other side.  I vaguely also remember two drawers attached to the wall.  Drawers? Maybe there was a blanket, a sheet.  I would even take a t-shirt right now if I could find one.  I looked down over the side of my top bunk.  I can see a human form under some blankets.  Yes blankets.  As in two.  Well if I had a blanket I now know where it is.  Maybe I can just go down there, politely tap her and say “Excuse me for waking you, but could I please have one of your blankets?”  But first, I need to find the ladder, there has to be a ladder, right?  How do they expect for me to get down from here.  On second thought, how did I get up here?  Well I looked up one side and across the foot.  No ladder.  The other side was attached to the wall, so of course no ladder there.  How about the foot.  No ladder. Tears came even harder, and I realized I needed to go to the bathroom.  Well only one way down.  I would have to jump.  The thought of landing on that cold tile, or whatever it was floor, made me procrastinate until I had no choice.  I slid as far down the side of the bunk that I could and then dropped.  My ankles were on fire.  I hopped over to the facilities, and did my business.  I stood up to flush, and that’s when it happened.  A thundering voice from under the blankets yelled, “Don’t ever do that again!”  I think I just met my cell mate.  I can’t remember her name, or even if she gave it to me, but I do remember those first words to me.  I also remember not caring at all what she had to say.  How could anyone hurt me anymore than I had already hurt myself.

So just how did a Christian wife, mother, flight attendant, end up staring at the ceiling of a jail cell?  The answer, simply put, alcoholism. However as you will hear in my story, there is nothing simple about alcoholism.    The journey through alcoholic **** took me about 8 years to stagger through.  There were six rehab centers.  Jail stays, yes stays, as in more than one. A psychiatric facility.   One homeless shelter, and 2 half-way houses.  I stayed in the homes of 2 friends that I met in recovery and also  graced my parent’s home, back in New Mexico, for what I am sure was a long 30 days for them.  They didn’t  know how to help me, which was understandable, how  do you help a crazy person!    I was even taken into the home of a dear Pastor and his sweet wife down in San Antonio Texas.  I had a few come to Jesus moments, but still didn’t put down the drink.  It was only in desperation that I finally took steps which enabled me to surrender my will to Christ and begin another journey.  One of simply put, freedom, freedom from bondage.  The bondage of my own self will.  The will that kept me from being the person that God wanted me to be, the will that kept me from his plan for me.  The will that started the ball rolling, and plummeted me and my family into the nightmare of alcoholism.  This is my story.

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conociendo a la poeta

Posted by odanamar Feb 2, 2015

lo que me caracteriza  a mi poesia es la sutilidad que impregno en cada frase,el mensaje que quiero transmitir.Es muy importante para mi que el lector entienda el universo quue encierra cada poema,por tal razon la naturalidad en las palabras son esenciales en mis creaciones.porque de esta forma la poesia tiene vida propia.

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