Happy New Year! Wait. What? Why am I talking about New Year’s in April? It’s a bit strange, yes, but actually, it is relevant once one thinks about it. Let me explain.

As the old year ends and it’s time to ring in the new one, many people make resolutions. “New year, new you,” as the slogan goes. Most people have the best intentions when they make the resolutions, and some follow through. However, most people begin their resolutions strong but around month three begin to slack off. There are many reasons people this may occur. Perhaps the resolution was set too high (e.g., lose 90 pounds in two weeks). Or maybe the resolution was something beyond the person’s control (e.g., being promoted at work). It could have even been unrealistic (e.g., taking a trip around the world without any means to finance it). Yet, it could have been that the person who made the resolution simply became discouraged if they seemed to make little or no progress. No matter the reason, usually around March, many people abandon their New Year’s resolutions.

In recent years, there seems to be an anti-New Year’s Resolutions trend. People appear to be tired of making resolutions and failing. So, does that mean people no longer set goals? That people have lost their ambitions? That people are too disheartened and dismayed to hold aspirations? Considering everything that has happened in the last three years, that very well could be an explanation. However, another explanation could be that people have discovered a new way to approach an old issue. Well, technically, theirs is nothing new about the approach that I’m about to discuss. Many people, especially business owners, have used this approach for years. They set a yearly/annual goal, but the ways in which they achieve that goal is by measuring it in increments. Instead of tackling the entire goal individually and looking at progress compared to the end goal, they divide the task into quarterly goals.

Quarterly goals are much more manageable. For example, if a person has a goal to go on a vacation but has no means to finance it. Having quarterly goals may make accomplishing this less daunting. The first quarter may be dedicated to determining how much money is needed to travel, obtaining passports or documents for passports, finding travel/hotel discounts, and developing a plan to pay for it. This could include having a garage/yard sale, getting a second job, cutting back on current expenses, clipping coupons, etc. After the first quarter, progress can be measured and used as a baseline for the second quarter goals.

Basically, quarterly goals are a way to assess if a person is on track to reach his/her annual goals. Businesses use this all the time to adjust and readjust their business strategies…to determine what worked and what didn’t work.

April is a month that many people begin their second-quarter goals. For people who did not make any goals for the first quarter, April is a good month to develop goals. April is a month associated with rain. Consider April the chance to wash away any failed goals and begin fresh. Easter occurred this month, and Easter is associated with rebirth and rejuvenation; rising and conquering the impossible.

That’s all I got. Now, it’s your turn to sound off. What did you think? What is your take on the subject? Do you agree or disagree? Did you find this information helpful or informative? Did you learn anything new, or did it change your opinion? Let me know your thoughts in the comment section. Also, let me know if you would like me to cover more of these types of topics or dive deeper into this one. If you like this post, please click the like button and share it. Your feedback allows me to know the content that you want to read. If you’re not following me on Creole Bayou blog, what are you waiting for? There’s always room at the bayou.

Get ready. It’s time to hit the ice again. Future Goals has arrived and is available.

When a college hockey player needs the help of an attractive older attorney, he gets more than he bargained for when trying to sort out the troubles in his career. Falling in love was never part of either man’s plan, especially as Corrigan’s and Sacha’s lives should never have collided. Now they’re left questioning if they’re standing in the way of the other’s future goals, or if there’s room for redirection.

Order your copy at:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3RjPYb9
Other booksellers: https://bit.ly/3CI8d5W

Missed the first four books in my hockey romance series? No frets.

Out of the Penalty Box (book #1), where it is one minute in the box or a lifetime out, is available at https://amzn.to/2Bhnngw. It also can be ordered on iTunes, Nook, or Kobo. For more links on where to purchase or to read the blurb, please visit https://bit.ly/2i9SqpH.

Defending the Net (book #2) can be ordered at https://amzn.to/2N7fj8q or www.books2read.com/defending. Crossing the line could cost the game.

Ice Gladiators (book #3) is the third book in my Locker Room Love series. When the gloves come off, the games begin. Available at https://amzn.to/2TGFsyD or www.books2read.com/icegladiators.

Penalty Kill (book #4) retakes the ice. Get a copy at https://amzn.to/3ex0N9p or https://amzn.to/3ex0N9p and let the pucker begin.

For more of my stories, shenanigans, giveaways, and more, check out my blog, Creole Bayou, www.genevivechambleeconnect.wordpress.com. New posts are made on Wednesdays, and everything is raw and unscathed. Climb on in a pirogue and join me on the bayou.

If you have any questions or suggestions about this post or any others, feel free to comment below or tweet me at @dolynesaidso. You also can follow me on Instagram at genevivechambleeauthor or for search me on Goodreads or Amazon Authors or BookBub or TikTok.

NEWSLETTER! Want to get the latest information and updates about my writing projects, giveaways, contests, and reveals first? Click https://genevivechambleeconnect.wordpress.com/newsletter/ and signup today.

Until next time, happy reading and much romance. Laissez le bon temps rouler.

About the Author

Genevive Chamblee resides in the bayou country where sweet tea and SEC football reign supreme. She is known for being witty (or so she thinks), getting lost anywhere beyond her front yard (the back is pushing it as she’s very geographically challenged), falling in love with shelter animals (and she adopts them), asking off-the-beaten-path questions that makes one go “hmm”, and preparing home-cooked Creole meals that are as spicy as her writing. Genevive specializes in spinning steamy, romantic tales with humorous flair, diverse characters, and quirky views of love and human behavior. She also is not afraid to delve into darker romances as well.

UPDATE: The winner is…Cindy!
*~*~*

I didn’t have any notes for what I wanted to talk about today. I sat at my desk, turned to my computer, and opened an empty “page” for the blog. Then, I clicked on a few news/gossip sites because I can’t be still for a second on line.

Still no ideas, so I turned to my desktop which is littered with open paint palettes, a basket of paint pens, dried paper towels with dabs of dried paint, which make them very pretty, my planner, which I’ve been underutilizing lately, and my cups and pots full of pens. Not to mention the plants that line the back of my desk that are waiting for me to take them back outside since we’re done with freezes. It’s a very messy desk.

I left the palettes open last night so the paint would fully dry. This is the messiest and most used.

It’s also the first watercolor palette I ever purchased. It’s a Van Gogh travel palette–a kind of medium, student-grade palette. The Azo Yellow and Madder Lake Deep (that dark red) in the lower left corner are almost gone. I started to close the palette, but all that lovely messiness reminded me about how far I’ve come.

When I first purchased this, I was so careful not to get different colors mixed in their paint pans, and I’d CLEAN the mixing wells at the top after every use. I loved the pristine look of the palette and wasn’t comfortable with the messiness that comes from paint. Now, look at it. The white has yellow in it. The Azo has green in it. The ochre has more green in it. And those wells haven’t been cleaned in forever because that’s where the color magic happens after you mix and forget what you mixed and then mix some more…

And there aren’t enough wells for color mixing, so I use the logo space at the top to mix more colors. I love this palette. I love getting a wet brush and working the water into the dried paint until it’s buttery, and then stroking it across paper. That sounded almost sexual, didn’t it? Hmm. I need to write a story about an artist…

And off I go again. “Squirrel!”

Do you have anything you let get really, really messy because it works best that way? Comment for your choice of a download from my backlist!

UPDATE: The winner is…Deb Brown!
*~*~*

Whew! I had two editing jobs I finished this week. Both were squeakers! Meaning, I got them done just in time! I’m rejiggering my work schedule now so I can fit in some ME time for a couple of days. The dd wants to hit the flea market today, and our entourage of flea markateers (ages 9, 14, and 18) is eager to roam the stalls. It’ll be a fun time, and I’ll get a chance to stretch some muscles other than those in my fingers.

I’ll have fun today then it’s back to business on Sunday. I have a short story to write, and I want to get some major pages done on the book coming your way in May! So, no time to drag my feet, although I really feel like I need a vacation. Oh! And there’s the theme for today’s puzzle. A vacation. Anywhere you want to go. If you had the money and the time, where would that be?

Saturday Puzzle Contest

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, solve the puzzle, then tell me where you’re going!

And I’ll love this Friday about midday. By then, I should be through with the last book I have to edit this week, and I can take a much-needed break!

What will I do with my time? I’ve neglected housework—but to hell with that. I don’t want to do ANYTHING productive. Maybe, I’ll just head back into season three of Fringe and watch some episodes back-to-back. It’s not a perfect Sci-Fi show, but I’ve been enjoying it. I think there are five seasons, so it should keep me going until next month. Then I’ll either start Picard or Strange New Worlds. (I don’t want to run out of Star Trek shows, because that will be just too sad, so I’ve been pacing myself.)

But anyway, I can’t stay here long. I have pages to read and kids to get out the door to school. I hope you have a GREAT Friday. Have you made any weekend plans?

Open Contests

1. Revisiting Conquests!—Last day to enter! Win an Amazon gift card!
2. Hollow Beasts kept me glued! — This one ends soon! Win an Amazon gift card!
3. 3 Quick Reminders & the Saturday Puzzle-Contest! — Win an Amazon gift card!
4. Briar Boleyn: Fantasy Heroes to Swoon For! — Win FREE books!
5. Anna Taylor Sweringen/Michal Scott: A Pioneer on the Entrepreneurial, Literary, and Astral Planes — Win an Amazon gift card!
6. A Quick Note & A Word Search: Male Stars I’ll Drop Everything to Watch — Win an Amazon gift card!

UPDATE: The winner is…Miki!
*~*~*

A Quick Note!

Over on my Collections website, we’ll be posting “Getting to Know You” blogs about the authors who wrote stories for the Silver Soldiers anthology. We’ll post every few days, and there will be contests! The first post went up today! Be sure to check out “Getting to Know Rhonda Lee Carver.”

Contest

Solve the puzzle. These are my personal choices for movie stars I’ll drop everything to sit down and watch. It’s a subjective list. My list. Josh Duhamel isn’t anywhere near Gary Oldman so far as skill, but he’s lovely, isn’t he? So, solve the puzzle then tell me who you’d add to the list for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!

UPDATE: The winner is…Debra Guyette!
*~*~*

Harriet was born Harriet Adams on March 15, 1825 of mixed-race heritage in Milford New Hampshire. Her mother was an Irish washerwoman. Her father was of African-American and Indian heritage and made barrels. Orphaned by her mother after her father’s death the courts made Harriet an indentured servant to the Hayward family until she was eighteen. In 1851, she married a sailor, named Thomas Wilson and bore a son named George. Wilson died at sea and Harriet and her son went to live on the county Poor Farm.

Not without resources, in 1857 she produced and sold a line of hair care products which her ads claimed to be the real thing for anyone looking to have good hair. Unlike Annie Malone and Madame C.J. Walker, Harriet’s products weren’t targeted only to African-Americans. From 1860 to 1861 she was able to distribute along the east coast by partnering with a white druggist.

Two years later, she wrote an autobiographical novel, Our Nig, in order to make money for her sick son’s health care. He died in 1860. With the advent of the Civil War, her sales dwindled when her partner sold his business.

By 1867, she had become known in Spiritualist circles as “the colored medium. The Boston Spiritualist newspaper, “Banner of Light,”  called Harriet “Boston’s earnest and eloquent colored medium.” From 1867 through the 1880s, she spoke all throughout New England at camp meetings, spiritualist conventions, in theaters, meeting houses and in private homes throughout New England. Her speaking engagements often placed her on programs alongside other medium/spiritualists like Cora L.V. Scott and Andrew Jackson Davis. Harriet also made house calls and held medical consultations as a Spiritualist nurse and healer (“clairvoyant physician”).

She married again in 1870, this time to a pharmacist named John Gallatin Robinson. The marriage ended in 1877 although no divorce has been recorded. From 1879 to 1897, Harriet worked as the housekeeper of a boardinghouse in the South End of Boston where she rented out rooms, collected rents and provided basic maintenance.

On June 28, 1900, Hattie E. Wilson died in Quincy Massachusetts at the Quincy Hospital.

Today, Harriet is best known for “Our Nig; or, Sketches from the Life of a Free Black,” published in September 5, 1859 anonymously by a firm in Boston. The cover page of Our Nig reads “Our Nig, Sketches from the Life of a Free Black in a two-story white house, North, showing that slavery’s shadow falls even there.” It was felt because of her critique of Northern racism the book did not do well as Uncle Tom’s Cabin published in 1852. The rediscovery of Our Nig by author/historian Henry Louis Gates brought Harriet into prominence in 1981. He declared hers was the first novel written by an African-American woman. This has been debated because Our Nig is said to be more autobiographical than fiction. The novel is in the public domain and can be read for free here: https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/584/pg584.html

In any case, once again I learned another woman proved she would not be hemmed in by the limitations placed on her by society because of her race and gender.

For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card share your thoughts about Harriet in the comments.

“Take Me to the Water”
by Michal Scott from Silver Soldiers

SILVER SOLDIERS: A BOYS BEHAVING BADLY ANTHOLOGY will satisfy the reader who craves stories with older alpha male heroes—those salt-and-pepper hotties with crow’s feet earned through rugged training and years of combat. Former soldiers finding their footing after their first careers, or current soldiers nearing the end of their military careers. They’re ready to find the right partner to put down roots, ones who aren’t afraid of scars and rough edges.

Pre-Order your copy here!

Excerpt from “Take Me to the Water”…

Weeksville Third Baptist Church glistened and glittered in 1880’s homemade Christmas regalia. Beribboned holly swags and fragrant pine cones infused the sanctuary with seasonal joy. Seasonal joy that missed the mark with Ambrose Stewart.

He remained ramrod-straight in the last pew despite the minister’s personal invitation for Ambrose to come forward for prayer. He refused the offer with a smile and a shake of his head.

The choir sang the hymn of invitation.

Take me to the water to be baptized.

He winced as the song took him back to that night when he and Hephzibah had sung those words to each other in a wonder-filled coupling of cock and pussy.

Several penitents came forward and stood before the smiling minister as the song continued.

None but the righteous shall see God.

Grumbling and gasping parishioners glared at Ambrose with get-on-with-it-stupid expectation.

“What’s he waiting on?”

“You’d think a disgraced, court-martialed soldier would be the first to go forward for forgiveness.”

Ambrose ignored them. He knew how not to be worn down by peer pressure. He’d only come to church hoping to find Hephzibah.

Hephzibah.

Her name meant “my delight is in her.”

His delight had always been in her. Of all days, he’d felt sure she would come to church the Sunday after Christmas.

But she hadn’t.

It’s out! It’s the first of several boxed sets of some of my shorter series that I plan to release in print and in “boxed” bundles to keep them inexpensive. And for a short time, I’m offering it for FREE in Kindle Unlimited. Enjoy seeing what kind of trouble my Adventure Girls, Inc. travel agents get themselves into. Hint—only an ex-military man can save them!

Dangerous Liaisons
A pampered travel agent, roughing it at an anti-terrorist training school, escapes through the jungle with an undercover DEA agent when a drug lord mistakes her for a rival’s daughter.

Mutiny’s Bounty
A former Navy SEAL races to rescue the passengers aboard a luxury yacht after it’s captured by pirates, but first, he has to rescue the woman he’s trapped with inside a shark cage on the ocean floor.

It Takes a SEAL
A travel agent visiting friends in the Bahamas is stranded on a desert island with a sexy ex-SEAL after their private pleasure cruise is interrupted by men who mistake her lover for a reclusive billionaire.

Order the eBook here!
Order your print copy now!

Read an excerpt from Mutiny’s Bounty…

“Sweetheart, the sharks are down there.” Ice blue eyes wrinkled at the corners as the man bending over the side of the olive-green skiff pointed a finger into the clear blue depths beneath her.

Did he think she’d missed seeing the swarm, or flock, or whatever the hell you called a group of freaking sharks? They were busy ripping into the grisly bundle of fish parts and guts the dive crew had dropped to the sea floor in a wire basket—which was why she’d hurried over here.

“Exactly! Like any sane person would purposely swim with sharks?” She let her voice frag, then crimped her lips to keep from saying anything else that made her sound like she was twelve. Lace McElhannon was glad she hadn’t given him a snarky wag of her head while she’d said it. But seriously, who would blame her for being snotty? Great White sharks were swimming thirty feet beneath her toes, and he wasn’t doing anything about it!

When her yacht-mates had blithely donned their snorkels and goggles then fell backward into the water without a care, she’d only hesitated for a moment. How scary could it be? And the dive team had seemed professional, assuring them the spotters’ job was to watch for any trouble, and they would swoop in to the rescue or drop fresh bait to distract the sharks.

Not until she’d glanced down and seen a dozen huge, sleek bodies with rows and rows of jagged teeth circling had she’d freaked out, leaving her shipmates bobbing on the surface like live bait while she’d struck out toward the skiff.

Fighting for breath, Lace dog-paddled, then swam faster against a rising wave that sent her closer to the skiff’s hull. Salty water splashed into her mouth, and she gulped without thinking, coughing and spitting, knowing she looked like an idiot, but her poor swimming skills didn’t have a thing to do with her breathless state. Fear froze her body, making expanding her lungs impossible.

Yes, she’d paid to swim with sharks. Or at least she’d paid for the plane ticket to get here to the Bahamas. But maybe she shouldn’t have watched Susan’s Shark Week DVDs beforehand. Her friend and partner at the travel agency had tried to dissuade her from choosing this particular adventure vacation, knowing she’d only ever swum in a heated pool. But who could pass up a week in the Bahamas? She’d had visions of watching the excitement through the window of a glass-bottom boat. But now was not the time to wonder why she hadn’t paid closer attention to Jake Halloran’s description of his “little ocean jaunt.”

“You have to help me up,” she said, sliding up her goggles to let the smirking hunk see her terror-stricken eyes. “I have a cramp.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared down at her. “We’re not here to rescue clients from their own bad decisions.”

“Make an exception.” She pushed the mouthpiece of her snorkel to the side so he could see the determination thinning her lips.

“Better pull her up, Dex,” another voice above her drawled. “The way she’s splashing, those whites’ll think she’s a fish in distress.”

Dex. So that was his name. But she didn’t have time to savor the mystery that had taunted her since she’d boarded the Clementine three days ago for one of Halloran’s daily jaunts. Despite the amenities aboard the 160-foot motorized luxury yacht behind her, she’d been much more interested in this man than the rock-climbing wall near the upper deck. On their first day aboard the yacht, he’d been introduced as the commander of the guard team providing security for the high-end adventure vacation. Unfortunately, he spent most of his time on the much smaller and faster escort boat which accompanied them while they sailed. She’d really hoped for a chance to get to know him. Everything about him had attracted her—his size, his muscled frame, his icy-cool gaze that landed like a hot laser, making her melt.

Funny how that calculating stare didn’t have the same effect when she was scared.

A rope ladder rolled over the side of the skiff, and she swam for it, reaching out and gripping the first rung, doing her best to haul herself up. But she’d been swimming for a good while and her limbs felt like lead weights. She dangled on the rope, half in-half out of the water, catching her breath and staring down to make sure her toes were curled in case the big fishes thought they were sausages. But she’d also watched Jaws. Sharks could lunge upward. Her breath caught in her throat, and she cast a wild glance above her.

A thickly muscled arm shot downward. A steel grip wrapped around one wrist and pulled her up, not releasing until she lay draped over the side of the boat.

She tried to get a leg up and over the side, not caring her ass was on display, but didn’t finish the motion because strong hands gripped her waist and lifted her, setting her on her feet.

She swayed, not having to exaggerate her sigh of relief or the weakness in her knees to get a chance to lean against the firm, hard body she’d been ogling for days. “You saved me,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper.

His head shook side to side, his chin rubbing her hair. “You weren’t in any danger. Or wouldn’t have been if you’d managed to remain calm. The sharks really are more interested in chum than you.”

Lace shivered and snuggled closer, reminded she wore the teensiest bikini in her bikini wardrobe, and she was getting him soaking wet. She’d hoped for a moment like this when she’d seen him in the powerful little skiff, his dark tee hugging well-muscled arms and a lean torso, lightweight black cargo pants doing nothing to hide the thickness of his sturdy thighs, dark sunglasses giving him an added, irresistible air of danger. And he wore combat boots in a boat. How sexy was that?

Her friend Maya had just such a man, someone who’d put himself in the line of fire to keep her friend safe. And why couldn’t she find a hero of her own? Maybe because she was on vacation and only had three days left in the Bahamas? But a lot could happen in three days if a girl wasn’t too fussy about appearing a little desperate, and she and her fellow passengers were heading back to the villa that night for a cozy dinner party.

A throat cleared.

The boat really was small, and three other hotties sat nearby with their gazes trained on her and Dex. But the one who’d dared interrupt them wore a dazzling smile and gave her a wicked waggle of his blond eyebrows.

“Ma’am, you might enjoy watching the sharks from the swimming platform. Stand in the spotter’s cage and look down. The water’s so clear you’ll feel like they’re closer than they are, but you’ll be safe.”

Lace wasn’t interested in the sharks swarming in the water. She liked the one standing so close the heat from his body warmed her head to toe.

But Dex only cupped her elbows, and she’d given him ample opportunity and implicit permission to touch so much more.

Now that the quaking had stopped, she felt her face grow hot. Lace drew away and began to offer him a small smile of apology, but his slitted gaze made a quick trip down her body. Oh. Maybe she hadn’t blown this first encounter after all. Could she use that hint of attraction to wrangle an invitation for drinks after they reached the villa’s dock?

She licked her lips and pouted them. “I guess I should be getting back to my boat…”

“No more shivers?” His voice was deep and slightly husky.

“Only where it counts,” she whispered, arching a brow. Read the rest of this entry »