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The Nemeth Custom Home House PlanNemeth 2900 Square Foot Custom Home in Vancouver WA

The Nemeth quality custom home design has 3 bedrooms and 2.5 bathrooms. A large covered patio is the entry way to the home’s foyer and Great Room. To the left is a comfortable and cozy den. To the right of the foyer is the home’s elegant dining room. A master bedroom is located on the main floor with a spa-sized master bath.

An attached three car garage provides lots of space for vehicles and extra storage with laundry space. The backyard has a large covered patio space adjacent to the master bedroom.

The custom home design can include an optional upstairs bonus room and storage space.

The home’s square footage is exactly 2896 square feet and includes:

  • Plans and permits
  • 40 year composite roof
  • Energy efficient stainless steel appliances
  • Alder cabinets and built-ins
  • Granite slab kitchen counter tops
  • Hardwood floors
  • Gas fireplace
  • Cultured stone exterior veneer
  • Landscaping
  • Home warranty
  • Sales tax

Builder is Sonny Joner

Cell: 360-518-1877

License# RAINCCL991PJ

Click here for a downloadable PDF document of this custom home plan.

Rain Creek Construction has been voted The Columbian’s Best of Clark County 2013, 2014, 2015.


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Title: Across the Universe (There's Nothing Gonna Change My World) - Part I
Fandom: the Covenant
Pairings: Chase/Caleb
Rating/Warnings: there will be sex in part 3. In this part there's a lot of angst, seriously bad parenting and insecurity.
Word Count: 9156
Disclaimer: If I owned the Covenant, they would all be naked.
Summary: The dreams start two months before Caleb turns thirteen.

The dreams started two months before Caleb turned thirteen. Not every night but most of them and they were always the same. There was a boy sitting in a bedroom, dark-haired and roughly his age. He could never see the boy's face – when it wasn't buried in his knees, he was usually staring out the window – but Caleb could hear him crying. Deep wracking sobs that echoed through the room and made his shoulders shake.

The other boy was always crying as though his world was ending and all Caleb ever wanted was to make him stop. But when he tried to speak, he had no voice and when he tried to move, his feet stuck to the floor.

Caleb was a ghost in these dreams, present but unable to interact with anything. All he could do was try not to listen, giving the other boy some small bit of privacy. He wouldn't want anyone else to watch him crying and in the moment, he often forgot that this boy could not be real. Caleb only realized that he was dreaming once he woke up again, a hard knot of sorrow aching in his chest.

It was weird and it hurt and he hated it, but he didn't know how to make these visions stop. Caleb had never been able to control his dreams like some people and he didn’t feel like he could ask anyone else for advice.

His friends would probably just laugh at him for dreaming about another boy and Caleb didn’t want to bother his mother now. She’d been acting strange since the beginning of the summer. Evelyn Danvers had always drunk a lot of alcohol, but now she had started drinking herself to sleep most evenings, often not even making it off the couch. She had also started watching Caleb much more closely, staring at him like she’d blink and he would disappear. She hadn't looked at him like that since the time he'd caught pneumonia but when he asked her what was wrong, she wouldn’t tell him. His mother kept saying that everything was fine even though he knew that was a lie.

Caleb worried but there was nothing he could do about it. He just tried to keep her happy, making sure that he did well in school and met his friends out of the house. His mother had never had a problem with the other boys before – she’s the one who made sure they hung out in the first place – but now her face twisted strangely whenever Caleb mentioned them.

So he kept his silence and after the first few weeks, his nightly visitor became almost comforting. Sure the dreams were weird but they were also regular. They were something he could count on and at least Caleb knew that one other person was more miserable than him. He needed that reassurance when his mother began drinking even more and he started to find her passed out with a bottle when he got home from school.

Indeed, Evelyn Danvers was far from sober when she summoned Caleb into her study and finally told him what was wrong. He didn't believe her at first. Everyone knew that witches and wizards weren't real; his mother might as well have told him that he was a unicorn. Why should he believe that magic was not only real, but dangerous, addictive, and scary as all hell? Why would he believe that his father had been a wizard and the power stole his life?

However, when his mother sobered up, she told him the same story and then she showed him proof. She drove Caleb to an old house far past the edge of town, the sort of place where people got murdered on dark and stormy nights.

Honestly, the place looked ready to fall down and Caleb could barely believe it when his mother went inside. She walked into the building as though it was physically painful, every step deepening the grimace on her face. But his mother kept going and Caleb could only follow. He wasn’t going to leave her in this place alone.

She led him up to the second floor via a narrow stairway and then took a deep breath before opening the closest door. When he walked inside, Caleb saw a small bedroom, as dusty and rundown as the rest of the house. But what caught his eye and made him shiver was the gnarled old man sitting by the fireplace.

“Caleb, it’s time for you to meet your father,” his mother said with a voice like broken glass. “The two of you have much to talk about.”

The words made no sense. Caleb's father had died when he was still a baby - that's what she’d always told him - and the man by the fireplace looked nothing like the picture on their mantelpiece back home. This man was old, older than anyone Caleb had ever seen before. His body was twisted and broken and all Caleb wanted to do was run away. But he couldn't. His mother's hand was gripping his shoulder and keeping him in place.

“I told you that magic broke your father,” she said bitterly. “This is all that's left of him.”

“She is right, my son,” the old man told Caleb softly, a dry rasp like dying leaves. “I was young and foolish and I threw my life away.”

“But magic is impossible; it's just a fairy tale,” he protested. Caleb didn't want to believe this. If he accepted that magic was real then he had to accept the rest of it and this man was not his dad. His dad was dead and his mother had simply lost touch with reality from drinking too much alcohol. Caleb found it easier to believe that she had paid some nutcase to pretend to be his father than in magic and the rest.

However, before he could say anything else, the old man's eyes suddenly turned black. Caleb stood frozen beneath that inky gaze as something wrapped around his waist. It felt like a rope but when he looked down there was nothing and he could only watch in shock as his feet slowly left the ground.

“What the hell?!” Caleb stuttered, his legs kicking wildly.

This was real. This was insane and impossible but somehow it was real. Caleb couldn't deny it any longer; how could he deny the truth when he was levitating off the ground? It only lasted for a moment, his feet hitting the floor as the old man fell back gasping and Caleb watched in horror as new wrinkles appeared on the wizard's face. Because the old man must be a wizard and if his mother was telling the truth about magic, maybe this was really his father after all.

So Caleb looked at him, trying to feel some sort of connection, some inner knowledge that called from blood to blood.

But he didn’t know this man. Whatever her faults, Caleb's mother was the one who'd raised him and the boy felt a growing anger toward the man sitting before him now. If this unnatural aging was caused by using magic then his father must have decided that power was more important than being there for his family and that made him a dick in Caleb's mind. His father might be old and helpless but he wasn't the one who had to watch his mother drink herself to sleep and Caleb was pretty sure that he'd never forgive the bastard for choosing as he did.

“What's the point in having magic if it turns me into that?” he bit out scornfully.

“Power,” his mother answered. “Power calls and a Danvers always answers; the need is in your blood. On your thirteenth birthday, you will receive a taste of magic and you must learn to Use in moderation before you turn eighteen. You must learn to resist temptation before coming into your full powers; the lesson that your father never mastered. He grew too fond of power, too used to tilting the balance in his favor when a challenge came his way. I asked him to stop for our sake but he didn't have the strength. However, you will do better, darling. I am sure of it.”

And what could Caleb do but promise he would try? His mother was so hopeful, so confident that he was better than his father, and Caleb wanted to prove that she was right. Even if he still thought that this whole thing seemed insane.

Two weeks later, Caleb couldn't sleep. He didn’t know what was going to happen but his mother had promised something – some sign that he suddenly had magic powers like in the story books.

So far his birthday had been disappointing on that front – cake and presents but no magic – and Caleb was starting to wonder if he'd imagined the meeting with his father after all. He couldn’t go back there by himself – he wouldn’t – and when he’d tried asking his mother for more information, she’d just snorted bitterly.

Tonight hadn’t been much better. His mother had drunk a whole bottle of gin after dinner, looking at Caleb and crying the whole time. She hadn’t been sobbing loudly but the quiet tears were almost more disturbing and he'd honestly been grateful when she finally passed out.

Caleb had covered her with a blanket and then gone up to his room. He’d done some homework, read some comics, and gotten ready for bed, twitching every time the shadows moved in the corner of his eye. But now his birthday was almost over and he didn’t feel any different. The magic that his mother promised had yet to arrive.

I should have known she was just crazy, Caleb thought even as the clock ticked over to 10:15.

Between one breath and the next, the room lit up; a blinding flash of lightning slammed into his chest. Caleb's back arched in a silent scream as power arced through his body, a wild rushing wave that he could not control. The magic spilled out of him, shaking the house to its foundation and knocking books from the shelves. It poured through Caleb until he felt like he was bursting, overwhelming all his senses until he thought that he must drown.

But then, as quickly as it came, the power in his blood began to dissipate. The magic trickled away, leaving behind only a small spark within his chest. A small spark but more than Caleb had felt before this and he knew that the power would answer if he called.

In this moment, Caleb understood why his father had thrown away his life to chase the magic. Because that small spark was just a shadow, a tiny ember when he had felt the fire and part of Caleb wanted that power back again. Part of the teen wanted to shape the world at whim without thought to consequence.

But he had promised his mother that he would be careful. He had promised that he wouldn’t be like his father and the memory of that twisted visage would be his warning now.

Of course, Caleb’s mother hadn’t said that he couldn’t Use at all. All things in moderation as his PE teacher liked to say and while Mr. Franklin was usually talking about cross-training, the teen was pretty sure that the same principle applied. What was the point in having magic if he just ignored it? And he needed to know what he could do in order to know what was out of bounds.

I’ll just test it out a bit, Caleb told himself and proceeded to spend the next several hours juggling his furniture. As it turned out, levitation was easy. It didn’t seem to matter whether he was floating chairs or his own body and when he realized that, Caleb spent a good twenty minutes flying around like Superman just because he could.

Indeed, the teen could suddenly do a lot of things that had never occurred to him before. Although he’d been worried that he wouldn't know how to use his magic, that didn’t seem to be a problem. All Caleb had to do was think of something to know whether it was possible or whether it would require more power than he had. Levitation? Easy. Explosions? Not a problem. Caleb could curse people six ways to Sunday but mind control was out. Not that he wanted to do that anyway.

Honestly, a lot of the things that he could do now didn't seem very nice. He didn’t want to hurt people or summon crazy spiders; he just wanted to move some shit around. Hence the juggling. Caleb kept experimenting until he couldn’t keep his eyes open, whereupon he crashed and slept 'til two in the afternoon.

Caleb dragged himself downstairs a little later to find his mother waiting at the kitchen table. For once she was sober, her eyes clearer now than they'd been for weeks.

“So you've received your powers,” Evelyn said flatly. “I hope that I don't have to tell you to keep these gifts a secret. Your ancestors were burned as witches in this town and people still don't like things that they don't understand.”

“You will have to tell your friends, of course. Reid, Pogue, and Tyler all carry the same magic in their blood and their mothers were never informed about the Covenant. Sometimes I envy them and sometimes I pity them for not knowing why their husbands disappeared. But that means it falls to you to warn them of what's coming and keep those boys in line. Who knows what Pogue might do otherwise?”

Caleb wanted to protest. He got his powers yesterday; he wasn't exactly an expert and Pogue's thirteenth birthday was only a few months away. Shouldn’t someone with more experience step in?

And yet, if the teen didn't take responsibility, who else would? His mother? Most of his friends couldn't stand her these days and there was no guarantee that she'd stay sober long enough to tell them anything. Even if she did, the other boys would probably just think that she was crazy. His mother would need Caleb or his father there as proof and the thought of anyone else seeing the old man made his stomach twist unpleasantly. His friends didn't need to see that, not when their own fathers had probably looked the same.

“All right, I'll do it,” the teen sighed. “But my friends really aren't that reckless. I don't know why you’ve decided that Pogue is such a troublemaker but he's smarter than you think.”

That's actually a lie. Over the last few weeks, Caleb had realized exactly why his mother didn’t like the other Sons of Ipswich; he just hadn’t wanted to believe it until now. The truth was very simple. Evelyn Danvers was a snob. She looked down her nose at anyone who wasn't one hundred percent blue-blooded aristocracy and while she’d given Caleb’s friends a pass while they were children, her new drinking habit seemed to have removed the leash off of her tongue.

Indeed, she had made it very clear that she hated Pogue's mother for being a grocer's daughter, one from Jersey of all places. As though being an alcoholic housewife was so much better just because her blood was pure.

His mother wasn’t even ashamed of her opinions and she answered Caleb’s protest with a graceful shrug. “Pogue will prove me right someday. Blood like that runs true. Just remember what you need to do.”

“Yeah, fine. I'll tell them now, all right?”

“Good. Take these,” Evelyn said, holding out her hand. There were four keys lying in her palm and Caleb picked them up curiously. “These keys will open the building on the north edge of our property. The old shed that was off limits until now. You will find everything that you need to train yourself inside.”

Caleb's mother left him sitting in the kitchen, his head spinning and his mind full of unanswered questions. But eventually he tucked the keys into his pockets and went to grab his phone. He might as well tell his friends everything at once so that they didn't get pissed about him keeping secrets later on. Besides, Caleb seriously wanted to tell someone who would actually think this stuff was cool. Only his mother could suck the joy out of having magic powers and he wanted to enjoy himself a bit before he went back to being responsible again.

So he called his friends and told them to meet him at their usual spot in half an hour. Then Caleb grabbed his bicycle from the garage and headed into the woods behind his house. The ride usually took about twenty-five minutes but he did it in twenty with a few minor bits of magic to help him up the steepest parts.

Only a few to test whether or not the Use was possible and then Caleb went right back to peddling. He wasn't going to end up like his father and he wasn't going to allow any of his friends to end up like theirs either, not if he had a choice.

“There's something I need to tell you,” Caleb said when he reached the clearing and found the other boys there already. He had decided that bluntness was the better option – lay out the facts, prove his powers, and then explain everything.

Of course, his friends had to actually pay attention to him first and that didn’t exactly happen instantly. Pogue just waved at Caleb from his position on the grass while Reid and Tyler were busy arguing about who would win if Godzilla fought with dinosaurs. They ignored the other teen completely, their discussion growing more and more heated until Caleb finally snapped.

“Guys! Seriously!” he shouted. “Godzilla would totally win and I need to talk to you.”

“Okay, fine. So talk,” Reid said with a shrug, the other three boys looking up at him expectantly.

“Well...” Caleb started, already feeling awkward. “You know how we're all descended from the guys who founded Ipswich? And our history teachers like to talk about the witch trials way back when? Apparently those two things are connected. Because I'm a wizard. Actually, we're all wizards; you just don't have your powers yet.”

There was one moment of utter silence and then Reid burst into laughter, wrapping his arms around himself and cackling, “Don't you mean witches, Caleb?”

“Technically a male witch would be a warlock.”

“You are joking, right? Why do you even know that?”

“It's not that weird. You know I like to read.”

“Fine. Warlock, whatever. That sounds cooler than wizard anyway. This still sounds like a bad joke.”

“Fucking witches, man!”

Caleb let his friends laugh. Once they got the mocking out of their systems, he could get back to the point. But Reid just kept on laughing and the teen only had so much patience for the blond right now.

“Yes, fucking witches!” he shouted, drawing on his magic to lift the others off the ground.

“Do you believe me now?” Caleb asked as he spun his friends round and round. He kept it up until they begged for mercy and Tyler looked about to puke. “I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. Apparently witches in Ipswich go back to the beginning and you'll get powers like mine as soon as you guys turn thirteen. Speaking of which, my mother gave me keys to some kind of family spell chamber. Do you want to check it out?”

“Like a witch's lair? Hell, yeah!”

“Okay, let's go,” Caleb said, pulling the keys out of his pocket and handing them around. “Supposedly the chamber is inside that old shed on my family's property.”

So the four boys got back on their bicycles and headed off again. The shed was... really not impressive when they got there, missing shingles and rotted boards making it seem one strong breeze from falling down. But the inside was sturdier than the outside and when Caleb found the door that their keys belonged to, well, witch's lair was actually pretty accurate.

Rough stone stairs led down to a large chamber in the earth, every flat space covered with candles and pentagrams. Caleb lit the candles with a touch of magic so that he and his friends could see as they walked down the stairs. The teen picked up one to carry with him and the light revealed jam-packed bookshelves standing against each wall. Not only bookshelves but a stone pedestal standing like a sentinel in the center of the room and tables covered with bunches of old herbs. Although the plants should have been dried or rotted, they looked completely fresh and when Caleb picked up a green sprig, magic sizzled beneath his fingertips. Everything in here was coated with magic and maybe bringing his friends here before they got their powers hadn't been the greatest plan.

“Reid, wait!” Caleb warned, reaching out to stop the blond before he picked up a grinning skull. “Be careful. I think there are protections here.”

As though to prove his point, there was a cry behind them and Caleb spun around to see Tyler flying back across the room. The other teen landed in a heap on the floor and the warlock ran over to check on him immediately.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“Apparently witches don't like it when you try to touch their books,” Tyler said, sitting up with a groan. “I just wanted to get some more information on these powers; what if they're dangerous or something? Or there are rules we shouldn't break?”

“You worry too much, baby boy,” Reid told the younger boy, pulling Tyler to his feet. “It's magic; what could be bad about a thing like that?”

“Well, actually....”

“Oh, come on. Are you serious?”

“Nothing terrible,” Caleb reassured him. “We just have to use our gifts in moderation. Otherwise we'll get crazy and addicted and turn into wrinkled old men by the time we're thirty-five.”

“That sounds pretty terrible to me,” Pogue said flatly.

“That's why we're going to be careful. As long as we only use magic now and then, my mother says we should be fine. In fact, let me try something...”

Caleb sent a thread of power toward the bookshelf and while the protections there had rejected Tyler's touch, they let his magic through. The warlock lifted up the largest book and then laid it open on the pedestal in the center of the room.

“Have at it, Tyler. Just let me know when you want to turn the page.”

The next five minutes were full of Tyler's soft exclamations, ahs and wows and ewws, while the other three boys explored the chamber very carefully. Once Caleb got past the whole “witch's lair” idea, the room was actually kind of boring and he wasn't surprised when Reid threw up his hands.

“This is bullshit!” the other boy exclaimed. “If I can't actually touch anything then I'd rather watch a movie or something. Can we please get out of here?”

“Tyler? Are you done?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess so. This book is mostly rules and history but it's interesting. You guys should probably read it for yourselves.”

“Later, sure. For now can we just get the Cliff Notes?”

“Well, for rules, secrecy seems to be the big one,” the younger boy explained. “It's all: do what you want but if you get caught you're on your own. Although, I hope no one would actually try to burn us anymore. Witch trials are so last century. Anyway, your mom was right. If we use too much magic, we'll end up dying young. So we should probably save the tricks for special occasions. Seriously, though, this book has stuff about our families that I've never heard before. It goes all the way back to the founding of Ipswich...”

Tyler trailed off, scanning the pages for more information. But he continued when Reid tapped his foot and growled impatiently.

“All right, fine. Here's the summary. Apparently there were five bloodlines in the beginning. They built this town and things were great until the witch trials. One guy got burned at the stake and the surviving four went underground.”

“Got it. Secrecy, stupid limits, and witch burning,” Reid said. “Let's get out of here.”

“Fine, fine,” the other boy replied. “I don't know how you get such good grades when you refuse to read a thing.”

“What can I say? My teachers love me and I'm great at taking tests,” the blond told him with a smirk. “Now come on. Being a warlock is all well and good but I've got better things to do.”

Reid had a point. This place wasn't much fun with none of Caleb's friends having magic yet. So they left the chamber, the warlock careful to lock the door behind them even as he felt more protections snapping into place. The four boys spent the rest of the day together – playing games and watching films and just talking shit. Caleb's friends kept him from thinking about school or magic until he went home that evening and even then it was only to reflect on how little his new powers changed his life.

Caleb couldn't magic his way through his classes and his didn't want to hurt people; he was rich enough that he didn't need more money and he wasn't old enough to gamble anyway. Magic definitely couldn't fix his family's problems, not when this power was the source of all their pain.

So Caleb would be fine. His mother had no reason to be worried. He wasn't going to end up like his father. He wasn't even going to consider the idea. This was just a weird genetic quirk, like dark hair or dimples, and it wasn't gonna change his life. Caleb felt much better now than he had when his mother first explained the situation and he fell asleep easily that night.

At first Caleb didn't realize that he was dreaming. Everything felt so much sharper than it ever had before. The light was brighter and the air felt thicker when Caleb took a breath.

But when the warlock looked around, he recognized his surroundings. Caleb was standing in the same room as usual and the same dark-haired boy was curled up on the bed. He wasn't crying this time but he still wasn't happy. No one sat like that when they were happy and Caleb was starting to get really fucking sick of this.

Sure the dreams were regular but why couldn't he dream of space ships instead? Or flying? Flying sounded way better than this depressing shit.

“Who the hell are you anyway?” Caleb muttered, fully expecting the other boy to ignore him just like he always had before. But instead his head shot up like a startled animal. He turned to look right at the warlock before scrambling backward until he was pressed against the wall.

“Who are you?” the boy asked, staring at Caleb with wide eyes. “How did you get here?”

That seemed like a weird question. The warlock couldn’t remember anyone in his more normal dreams ever being terrified. But this was his dream. Wasn't it? Why should he apologize?

“I've been here for months,” Caleb told the other boy with a shrug. “You've just never seen me. And honestly, I think my imagination kind of sucks.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, I'm dreaming, aren't I?” the warlock asked. “And it’s always just this same stupid room with you in the corner looking sad. Let me tell you, two months of this is getting old.”

“Yeah well, at least you're not stuck here all the time,” the guy retorted, his expression more annoyed than frightened now. “But seriously, you can't be here. This is my house, my room... Fuck, I’m going mad. I've finally gotten so lonely that I'm inventing visitors.”

“Hey! I am definitely real!” Caleb protested. “My name is Caleb Danvers and I live in Ipswich, Massachusetts. You're the one that only shows up when I’m asleep.”

“Look, I probably shouldn't be arguing with a hallucination, but that's ridiculous. If anyone is dreaming here, it's me,” the other boy replied. “In fact...”

He climbed off the bed and walked over to the bedroom door, grabbing the doorknob in one hand. Then he took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders and then yanking the door open in one move. Caleb saw a quick flash of empty hallway before the other boy shut the door and turned back to him again.

“I am definitely the one that's dreaming,” he told the warlock with a slightly twisted smirk. It was a triumphant expression but not a happy one; there was too much bitterness.

“How do you know?”

“In real life that door is locked.”

“Okay, what?” Caleb asked, looking at the guy in shock. “This has to be the weirdest dream I've ever had.”

“I told you... You're not dreaming!” the other boy suddenly shouted, flipping instantly from depression into rage. “So just LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!

He rounded on Caleb, his eyes gone black with fury. Or not with fury, but with magic as power built around his hands. The warlock didn’t have a chance to react before a blast of light slammed into his body and he snapped awake again.

For a second the teen just lay there panting, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. Because his new powers were either giving him the strangest dreams ever or the other boy was right. Maybe he was a real person after all.

He could be like us, Caleb thought. Maybe that guy is another warlock and the magic somehow linked our dreams together. Though, fuck, I hope I don't start sharing dreams with everyone. That would get crowded really fast.

Of course, this was all just speculation and when Caleb finally managed to fall back asleep, he didn’t dream at all.

When the warlock woke up again, he decided to be proactive. He was going to make a plan for when the other guy came back. Maybe his dreams would return to normal now, but if not, there were some things that Caleb really wanted to find out. Even that brief conversation had given him a lot of questions and he’d like them answered as soon as possible. So he grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and starting scribbling.

     Step 1: Figure out if the other boy is real. Ask his name and Google? Or his town?
     Step 2: Check the spell books in the shed? If my dreams are caused by magic, maybe one of my ancestors had                      something similar. A curse?
     Step 3: If the other guy is real, find out why he's locked inside his bedroom.
     Step 4: Try to help?

Caleb wasn't sure what he could do but he knew all about having a shitty home life and he could be a sympathetic ear if nothing else. So he wrote a whole list of questions and answers for the next time, trying to think of something that would make his dream guy trust him. It seemed important even though he didn't know this boy, not really. But the teen had watched him cry for months now and if he could make the other guy feel better, he felt like he should try.

Besides, this was Caleb's best chance to talk to another warlock until his friends had their birthdays. If the other boy already had his powers, maybe they could help each other practice. At the very least, Caleb should make sure that he knew about the consequences. The teen didn’t want anyone dying on his watch.

However, when the warlock found himself back in the same room a few days later, he didn't need any of his carefully planned out arguments.

The other boy seemed to be waiting for him and when Caleb appeared, he started talking on his own, “I looked up Ipswich, you know, and there is a Caleb Danvers at the middle school. So either I'm psychic as well as crazy or you're actually a person. Which means the real question is: what are you doing here?”

“Honestly? I have no fucking clue,” the warlock replied. “I've been having this dream on and off since July but you could never see me. I don’t know why they started – nothing special happened to me this summer – but I think I know why you can finally see me now.”

“Oh? And why is that?” the guy asked, eyeing Caleb warily. Something that the warlock said had made him tense again. Which, in turn, made Caleb hesitate. He didn't want the other boy to flip out and shove him from the dream like he had before. But then again, that proved he had some kind of power and so maybe Caleb’s explanation wouldn't seem insane.

“Okay, it's like this,” Caleb said. “Apparently I'm a warlock, a male witch. It's some kind of family bloodline and I got my powers a few days ago. I think that's why we can talk now when you never seemed to notice me before.”

“This bloodline of yours... Are you the only one?”

“No. Supposedly three of my friends will get their magic soon,” the teen said, relieved that the other boy seemed willing to listen. “All of us are descended from the folks who founded Ipswich and I guess there's always one warlock in each family, that's what my mother says. We get our first taste of power at thirteen and that's how it was for me.”

The other guy didn't say anything for a long time, long enough that Caleb started to worry that he might have read him wrong. But then the boy ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “In that case, I think I know why you've been dreaming since July.”

“So you are a warlock!” Caleb said triumphantly.

“Maybe. I don't know. But my thirteenth birthday is when my life went straight to Hell,” the other boy told him. “There was some kind of explosion and I could do things afterward. Things that weren't normal. I don't mean to but sometimes I just can't help it and my parents freaked. They're religious, you know; I grew up going to church every Sunday and while I'm not sure if I believe in God, my folks believe in the Devil. They think that I'm possessed.”

Caleb couldn’t believe that. That sounded completely crazy, and yeah, he knew he didn’t have much room to judge. But as drunk as his mother got sometimes, she’d never claimed that he was evil and his mouth dropped open in shock as this guy laughed bitterly.

“I've seen more priests and exorcists in the last few months than I ever knew existed and for a while there I thought I was gonna die inside this room. I only convinced my parents to let me go back to school about a week ago and they still lock me in here whenever I'm at home.”

“But can't you just open the door? With magic, I mean,” the teen said. He hadn’t been expecting this and now he was floundering for words, wanting to make it better but with no idea how. “You don't have to stay trapped here if you don't want to be.”

“Right, and once I've run away from home and my family disowns me, what exactly do you expect me to do? I'm not old enough to work, I'm not a thief and I can't make money appear out of thin air,” the boy said and Caleb got the impression that he'd thought this through a lot. “Besides, how do I know for sure that I'm not possessed? Maybe my parents are right and you're the Devil come to tempt me into sin.”

“I am not!” Caleb protested. “I may be a warlock but that doesn't make me evil. This isn't some kind of Disney fairy tale. Look. What's your name? Maybe I can find something on your family in our records. It sounds like no one has told you anything and if you do share my powers, then that's actually dangerous. There are some things that you should know. Honestly, I don't know how your parents can think that you're a demon. Your father should have the same magic in his blood.”

“Yeah, well. I'm adopted,” the other guy told him. “I may be Chase Collins now but I have no idea what name I was born with. So I doubt you'll have much luck.”

“Oh. I guess that would explain it,” the warlock said, momentarily deflated. But he wasn't going to give up that easily. “Okay, look, we seem to be stuck together dreaming and there must be a reason. So why don't you let me help you? If you learn to control your powers then maybe you can convince your parents that you're not evil and they might let you out. My family has lots of books stashed away and at least one of them should have something useful.”

Chase still seemed skeptical but Caleb gave the other boy his best pleading smile and eventually he just sighed wearily. “Yeah, sure. Why not? You could still be the Devil but it's not like I have much to lose these days. If you can stop me from blowing things up when I'm angry then that would be a start.”

“Great! It’s a deal,” Caleb told him before reaching out to shake the other warlock’s hand. He expected to wake up after that but nothing happened, leaving the two boys staring at each other somewhat awkwardly.

“So, um, do you want me to go?” the teen asked after a moment, pointing at the door. “I can totally just wander around this dream 'til I wake up.”

“I’m not gonna kick you out. That’s up to you,” Chase shrugged before standing up suddenly. “Actually, screw that. I'm sick of this damn room and I might as well enjoy the freedom while I can. You can do whatever you want but I'm leaving now.”

The other boy was out of the room before Caleb could reply and the warlock just stared at the empty doorway in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting Chase to just run out on him and he wasn't sure what he should do now. Sitting in someone else’s room without him felt a little weird. But then Chase stuck his head back through the doorway and asked, “You wanna come along? No one deserves to spend their nights locked up in here.”

“Sure, of course,” the warlock agreed, jogging over quickly before Chase could change his mind. Caleb wasn't sure why he cared about the other boy's opinion – beyond the fact that they were stuck together – but he was glad that Chase seemed to be softening. He wouldn't mind another friend; as much as he liked Pogue, Reid, and Tyler, they were more like his younger brothers and sometimes he just wanted to smack them upside their heads.

So Caleb followed Chase through the doorway and down the stairs, blinking a little when he found himself outside. He looked around curiously; their surroundings seemed to be a strange mix of Ipswich and a town that the warlock didn't recognize.

Probably the place where Chase lived since he didn’t seem to have any trouble picking a direction. He just turned left and started walking, pointing out a few landmarks as Caleb trailed after him. The other teen didn’t say much else but the silence was oddly companionable and the warlock was smiling when he finally woke up.

Caleb's life fell into a new rhythm after that. He still went to school, did his homework, and looked after his mother when she drank too much. But now the teen also spent hours poring through old manuscripts, looking for any mention of other bloodlines or shared dreaming in the past.

Although Caleb had never really enjoyed research, his family's history was far more interesting than he'd expected. It was full of scandals, secrets and strange magic and while the warlock didn’t find what he was looking for, he learned a great deal about the gift running through his blood. Enough that he thought he could teach Chase how to control his magic better and then do the same for each of his friends in turn.

The other boy was volatile at first, throwing Caleb from the dreams as often as he actually listened to his instructions and the teen got used to waking up suddenly. But dealing with Chase wasn’t any worse than dealing with his mother; better actually, since the other warlock always apologized to Caleb afterward.

So the teen learned to be patient with Chase when his doubts overtook him, the other boy sometimes wondering if his parents could be right. He obviously still cared about them and he struggled to reconcile his new gifts with their beliefs.

Caleb couldn’t help with that, not really. But the warlock discovered that telling Chase about his life and his friends often calmed him; sometimes he just needed a reminder that there were other people just like him. And things got better. Chase learned to control the magic instead of letting it rule him and Caleb was glad for the company when his friends finally joined their Covenant.

First Pogue, then Reid, and finally Tyler received their powers, the magic arriving on their thirteenth birthdays just Caleb’s mother promised. But the other Sons of Ipswich were all different individuals and none of them reacted to the magic quite the same. Pogue took his gifts in stride since he was far more interested in girls and motorcycles than in being any kind of warlock. Tyler treated his powers as one more way to be an overachiever – easily matching Caleb for time spent studying – and Reid went off the rails. He fluctuated between glee at having magic and fury at the consequences that came from over-Using and Caleb wasn't sure if he'd ever settle down.

“I just don't understand it,” the warlock told Chase one evening. They were dreaming again, their shared landscape having grown more wild and fantastical in the months since his birthday. Chase had a vivid imagination and he was rarely content to stay in Bakersfield or Ipswich anymore. “It's like Reid is trying to burn out before we even get to high school. He's gonna wreck his life and the magic isn’t worth that.”

“Come on, you can’t tell me that you've never been tempted,” the other teen replied. “The power is seductive, you know that, and it sucks that our magic is such a two-edged sword. Sometimes I still just want to cast a ton of spells and damn the consequences.”

“You wouldn't say that if you'd ever seen my father,” Caleb told him with a shudder. “I'd give up our powers in an instant to not end up like him.”

“So show them,” Chase said bluntly. “If seeing your father made the difference for you, then introduce him to your friends. Maybe solid proof of what will happen will make this Reid guy lay off the Using. You're a damn good teacher so I know that's not the problem. In fact, I'm happy to say that my parents are finally easing up. In fact, they seem to be going straight into denial now that I don't levitate when I'm distracted anymore.”

“Really? That’s great,” the teen said and he meant it. Caleb was happy to know that Chase’s life was getting better and even happier to let him change the subject. The other warlock probably had a point about introducing his friends to his father but Caleb didn’t feel prepared to think about that now. “I wasn’t sure if the lessons here would transfer over to the real world; you know changing our dreams doesn’t feel the same as Using when awake.”

“Apparently it’s close enough. And I definitely prefer denial to the exorcists.”

“I don’t blame you. Though I still think you should have let me call the cops. I mean, if you’d given me your address, I could have tipped them off.”

“I'll get my parents arrested the day you get your mother into rehab,” Chase retorted sharply. “Until then, leave it be. You’ve got no right to judge.”

Caleb winced at the other teen’s tone. He hadn’t meant to poke a sore spot and he knew that Chase was right. His mother was only getting worse, not better, and he probably should get help. But he didn’t know how and he didn’t want to lose what little family he had left. Truthfully, the warlock didn’t know why he'd told Chase about his mother's drinking problem in the first place. Somehow it was easier to talk about things when they were dreaming. Caleb didn’t have to worry about repercussions from his honesty and Chase's distance often gave him a more objective eye.

So the two of them had talked about anything and everything, from Reid's issues to the latest movies to their family problems and even though they'd never met in person, Chase already felt like one of the best friends he’d ever had.

“Come on, Danvers. Don't look so serious,” the other warlock told him, throwing an arm across his shoulders. “Your friend Reid will sort himself out eventually. Hell, I'm practically the poster boy for bad reactions to our magic and you managed to turn my life around. Even just knowing what the hell was happening was a damn big relief.”

“I get that,” Caleb said. “I thought my mother was delusional but at least she warned me first.”

“Yeah, there's nothing worse than not knowing. I was fucking terrified,” Chase admitted. “My parents had me half convinced that I actually was possessed and I probably would have hurt someone if you hadn't come along. One day I would have just snapped and started Using constantly.”

“I don’t think so,” the warlock replied. He honestly couldn't picture it. Although Chase had been a mess in the beginning, he’d still obeyed his parents and Caleb couldn’t see him hurting anyone. Not on purpose anyway. “You may be a jerk sometimes but you aren’t evil.”

“Thanks, I feel so reassured,” the other teen snorted. “Seriously, though. Enough of this feelings shit. Let's go do something fun.”

Chase dragged Caleb off, the dream world shifting around them until they were standing on the deck of an old sailing ship. The other warlock pulled him into some kind of pirate battle, Chase running around and shouting orders like he was born to this. Of course, the other teen threw himself into everything with abandon; on his bad days he was sure the world was ending and his good moods made Caleb smile helplessly. Thankfully there were more good days than bad at this point. Chase’s mood had improved along with his ability to control his powers and Caleb definitely looked forward to his dreams these days.

Maybe that's why the warlock still hadn't told anyone else about Chase. So much of his life seemed to belong to other people; he wanted to keep this one thing for himself. Chase was his friend – just his – and if he told the others then Pogue would get protective, Reid would get jealous and Tyler would probably want to know about every single conversation that they’d ever had.

Besides, none of the others had mentioned anything about shared dreaming and Caleb wasn't in the mood to be the freak. He was already the odd one out amongst the Sons of Ipswich, his responsibilities as the eldest sometimes weighing on him heavily.

Case in point, this mess with Reid. But Chase was probably right. If anything could put his friend back on the straight and narrow, it would be meeting Caleb's father and the warlock would consider setting up that meeting as soon as he woke up. Until then, well, he and Chase were in search of buried treasure and Caleb would be damned before he lost another game.

“Where are we going? I’ve got things to do today,” Tyler said. More like whined, actually, and Caleb bit back a sigh.

“I know you do but this won’t take long and it’s important,” the teen told him. He’d finally decided to take Chase’s advice about his father, mostly because he didn’t know what else to do. If this didn’t make Reid stop then the warlock was out of ideas and he might have to start researching binding spells instead.

Speaking of Reid, the other teen looked thoroughly pissed off when Caleb glanced in the rearview mirror. The warlock had used a combination of threats, cajoling, and outright bribery to get him in the car and Reid still hadn’t done it gracefully.

“Who made you the boss anyway?” the blond growled when he finally realized that Caleb was looking at him. “You may be the oldest but that doesn’t mean that you can tell us what to do.”

“Sure, Reid. I’m the bad guy because I don’t want to just sit back and watch while you Use yourself to death,” the older teen retorted. “But you know what? Fine. If you still want to waste your life after our visit today, then maybe I’ll just let you. You can gorge yourself on magic ‘til you choke because I’ll have tried absolutely everything.”

“So we’re visiting someone?” Pogue asked quietly. He put a hand on Reid’s arm and the blond thankfully subsided instead of arguing. “You have been a bit mysterious.”

“Not on purpose. It’s just complicated,” Caleb sighed. “Look, just stick with me for another fifteen minutes and things will make sense, all right? I need to introduce you to someone but you probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you who right now.”

“It’s not some kind of long lost sibling, is it? Because that would just be weird,” Tyler said, his question close enough to the truth to make Caleb twitch a bit.

But he managed to keep his voice level when he replied, “No. It’s not that. Seriously, just be patient. It’s like another mile down the road.”

Right on cue, his family’s old mansion appeared in the distance, looking just as haunted as it had a year before. In fact, Caleb was pretty sure that he heard Tyler mutter, “So you think he’s gonna kill us? Because that house screams axe murderer.”

However, the words were quiet enough that the warlock could ignore him and his friends piled out of the car without complaining once Caleb pulled to a stop. The building loomed above them and the Sons of Ipswich huddled close instinctively. Even Reid looked more unsettled than irritated now and Caleb took a deep breath before opening the door. He led his friends to the top floor, waving off his family's servant, Gorman, when the man tried to stop him at the stairs.

“You want to know why I keep harping on you for Using, Reid?” Caleb asked as he opened the door and walked into the room. “This is why. Meet William Danvers III, my father. He turned forty just this year.”

There was a moment of absolute silence and then all of the warlock’s friends started talking simultaneously, Caleb only catching a few words here and there.

“What are you-?”

“Is this-”

“-- kidding me!”

“You must be-”

“-- a sick joke, man!”

“It’s not a joke, Reid. This is what happens when you Use too much magic. The power eats your life away and turns you old before your time,” Caleb said. “This is why I worry and why my mother drinks.”

“Shit,” Pogue replied and that seemed to sum up his friends’ reactions quite succinctly. Tyler looked both curious and horrified while Reid was just staring at Caleb’s father like he’d seen a ghost. His face was pale and the warlock could only hope that the lesson was finally sinking in.

“Is there a cure? A way to stop this?” Tyler asked quietly. “Shouldn't there be some kind of spell?”

"You think you are the first to fear the price? The first to think of fighting?" Caleb's father suddenly cackled. The teen had thought that the old man was sleeping and he wasn't the only one to jump. “There is no running from the curse that's in our blood. You are doomed children, doomed to Use and fall just like every firstborn son before you, and trying to cast spells to stop the price will only hasten your reckoni-"

The old man broke off as he started coughing, his ravaged voice unused to speaking. He coughed and coughed until Gorman rushed into the room with a glass of water. He helped Caleb's father drink before turning to the teens.

“You need to go," Gorman said with a glare. “You should know better than to come here and rile up Mr. Danvers. He is not a sideshow for your entertainment. He is a man that’s suffering. Now get out."

Caleb didn't argue. He'd made his point and his friends looked shaken enough already; he didn't need to make it worse. So the teen waved the other warlocks toward the door, waiting until they had started down the stairs before following.

However, Caleb had only taken a few steps before he paused. The warlock couldn't let his father's last words stand.

"We're not going to end up like you," he said, turning back to the old man. "I won't allow it. You were weak, but we'll be better. Wait and see."

Then the teen went to join the others. His friends greeted him with loud cries of relief and a whole slew of questions so Caleb didn't hear his father's quiet whisper as it faded down the stairs.

"I truly hope so, son."

Part II

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Lille vs Lorient Prediction 4 February 2017
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Lille vs Lorient Prediction 4 February 2017

Tournament: French Ligue 1
Location: Pierre-Maurou Stadium
Match date: 04.02.2017 at 19:00

On February 4 2017 at 19:00 at the Pierre Mauroy Stadium the local Lille play against Lorient in the regular game of the 23rd matchday of the French Ligue 1.

Lille haven’t lost for six games already and so they are in pretty good conditions at the moment. In those matches Lille outplayed Excelsior 4:1 and Nantes 1:0 in the Coupe de France, drew Rennes 1:1, Saint Etienne 1:1 and Dijon 0:0 and predictably won against Lyon 1:2.

Even though Lorient made it to the round of 16 of the Coupe de France, they were not confident enough in it as they hardly outplayed Chateauroux from the Ligue 3 in during the additional time. In the national championship their results are not good enough as they are now on the last position with 18 points gained and 25:46 goal difference. We must also admit that Lorient only gained 2 points in the 11 away matches played in the current season and lost the rest 9 matches, in fact.

The results and the statistics of the latest games of teams show the obvious advantage of Lille. Yet, in the first round game of the current season of the national championship Lorient managed to outplay Lille 1:0 at home. Yet, the conditions of Lorient are different now from what they used to be and that is why we think that Lille will manage to get their three points in the upcoming home game.


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Russian ‘Meddling’ on Major Tech Sites

I’ve been thinking quite a bit about this issue recently, especially as it has been in the news media so often with the rapid pace of disclosures from tech giants like Facebook, Twitter, and now Google. In brief, these online platforms for advertising (yes, that’s what they are for, whether it is what you use them for or not) were used during the 2016 election cycle by various Russian or Russian-linked actors to promote specific causes, political or otherwise, disinformation (‘fake news’), and general chaos in the overall Internet media landscape. The overwhelming chorus of blame and anger against the tech companies from what seems like all sides of the partisan divide is honestly quite shocking to me. Personally, I don’t blame these companies at all, or even the Russian actors who chose to legally advertise on the sites mentioned.

For years now (it can be called decades for some of these tech companies), Congress has deigned to regulate what happens on these online advertising platforms, choosing to outsource their regulatory function to the businesses themselves. As someone who operates a technology company and frequently has advertised on all of these platforms, I can confirm that it is basically the ‘Wild West’ out there when it comes to the content, tone, and prospective audience for advertising content. As long as an advertiser does not go astray of the platform’s ‘guidelines’ (which can be incredibly arbitrary), the advertising is generally approved. And to be perfectly clear, this is what we should want on these platforms, unless we are prepared to subject them to something closer to FCC regulations, which would impact not only advertising but also the content that users post online. These sites are supposedly platforms for speech and sharing, and that is what is largely happening on them. If we want to make it so that these sites have more accountability (something I would support in many cases), then Congress needs to pass a law.

A significant amount of the governmental and popular hand-wringing around the Russian ‘meddling’ in our Internet media sphere has to do with automated bot-nets, Russians posing as Americans online, and creation of groups that advocate for specific American policy positions or general ideologies. None of this is illegal, or against the policies of the sites mentioned earlier. Unless we are prepared as a society to strictly regulate speech on these platforms and in our society as a whole, we should not be pushing for tech companies or the government to shut down these kinds of activities. Everyone in American society has a fundamental Constitutionally-protected right to free speech and association, and that does not exclude association with foreign actors or sympathy with their causes. Again, unless we are willing as a society to revisit some of these basic American freedoms, we should be prepared to accept this kind of activity as what is going to happen in a free society.

Fake News

Now, I am not saying that this intrusion into our election campaign and attempts to insert major amounts of disinformation into our media environment is a good thing or something we should be prepared to invite into our homes or social circles. What I am saying is that it is something we should be prepared to live with and deal with as the price of our free society and our broad-based freedoms of speech and association. We allow people and groups to freely advertise online, which is a good thing. That can be misused at times, which is bad, but we should not be throwing out the baby with the bathwater, so to speak.

Nations like Finland, which has had to deal with Russian disinformation campaigns for years now, have learned to deal with the intrusions in a constructive and productive manner. The Finns use their excellent education system to build up critical thinking skills among their populace and take fighting against ‘fake news’ as a mission that is important for every one of their citizens, as well as the government at large. This kind of approach is needed to build resiliency and a spirit of skepticism against the ‘news’ that is shared on Facebook pages and Twitter feeds around the country. If we take the approach we are on right now, of attempting to shut down any sort of foreign advertising on these platforms, or censoring what seems to be ‘fishy’, we are undercutting our own American freedoms. We do not need to do that to prevent disinformation from sticking. We need to instead work on better checking out the sourcing of stories, confirming that something is true before sharing it, and combating the ease of tricking us by breaking our own self-imposed filter bubbles that keep us away from information we don’t agree with.

Attacking the messenger for the inaccuracy of their message is not going to prevent us from falling for the next messenger’s inaccurate message. The only thing that can change that is educating the American populace in understanding how to ferret out disinformation and discern the difference between ‘fake news’ and factual information. Simply shooting the messenger isn’t going to help, no matter how satisfying shooting that messenger may feel.

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Life Manual

Life is better handled, prepared.

Coke Studio Episode 02

Maybe it was Episode 01 that took my expectations higher, or maybe it was the excellence of the
musicians in Epsiode 01 that couldn’t be matched by the perfomers in Episode 01.
The uniqueness of the first episode was that the songs were not performed in the usual way, be it
Deewana,Paheliyan or Garaj Baras and there was youthfulness all around. Rahat Fateh was excellent as well with the effortless merging of his singing with Ali Azmats.The musicians just
merged with each other ,in short, the whole episode was full of seamless performances.

Episode 02 showed Strings bringing their own musicians along and it seemed the drummer was
putting in so much effort to get his playing co-ordinate with others. The bassist and the lead guitarists were nice though.I wasn’t much impressed with the vocals other than Faisals in Duur.
Saba and Selina were good but I would have loved them doing an Urdu track in their style.

Lets see what Ali Zafar can conjure up with in the next episode and also looking forward for Sajid to do some coolness as well…

Author: Hani

Glad I could interest you enough for you to visit my profile page. Follow me on twitter @haniarif to get to know more.

2 thoughts on “Coke Studio Episode 02

  1. i think its great work out from the singers and the musicians

  2. everyone must think the same

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Realitytea’s Blog

New Interview With Brittanya From Charm School

Brittanya O’Campo is speaking out about her time on Charm School 3, as well as her recent elimination from the show. In a new interview with VH1, she touches on the topic of the serious charges from her criminal past, why she should have won Charm School, her take on her unaired altercation with So Hood and how her butt implants are treating her.

Below are excerpts from the interview –

So I guess you’re not in jail?

Oh yeah, I’m not.

Well that’s good. What happened with the case?

I’m still fighting it right now. My next court date is actually September 17. I paid my lawyer, so that’s good. The case is still looking…I don’t know what’s going to happen with it. It’s probably going to go to trial still.

What was it like juggling a case and Charm School?

While I was on Charm School, it was like whatever. It really didn’t make a difference. I was told by the lawyer and everybody not to get into detail about it on TV. That’s why I never did. I can go ahead and say now what my charges were, but I’m still fighting it and I’m not saying I’m guilty of it, because I’m not. They were trying to get me for attempted murder. I read that someone was saying that my bail was probably a couple hundred dollars, but my bail was actually a quarter of a million dollars. It’s public record; anyone can look it up and see. But anyways, the charge got dropped to assault with a deadly weapon causing bodily harm and the other one was assault and battery, so I have two charges on me right now that I’m fighting. It’s kind of like a he said/she said thing. My lawyer is the best in town so I really think that things will work out. I’m hoping and praying.

How was it that you were able to pay your lawyer?

When I was on Charm School, it was during the time that Rock of Love was airing, so I didn’t know that I was going to get all kinds of gigs and appearances and jobs from Rock of Love. When I got back from Charm School, it was like my whole life was totally different. I had a gig like almost every single day. Still do to this day. They pay a lot of money to go out to clubs and stuff, and I ended up saving all that money, plus more, and freakin’ paid my lawyer. I actually just got a brand new car yesterday. I’m really excited.

Not everyone believed that the charges against you were so serious.

I’m one of the realest people in the whole f***ing show. And that’s something I wouldn’t even bulls*** about. At that time, it was really fresh, because I just got out of jail a couple days before. Right now, it’s been like seven months, and I’m still out on bail. I still have to call and check in every Friday or whatever, but time has passed and it’s not bothering me as much. The charges are still there and it’s still a really serious case.

You didn’t get physical or really aggressive during your argument with Marcia on the last episode. I took that as a sign of progress.

All my close friends called me and said, “I can’t believe you did not f*** that bitch up.” And I was like, “I know!” Any other day I would have fought her and not gave a f***. Anyone with a kid will know that you don’t go there, you don’t say any of that. I’m still f***ing pissed about it. But I really put my heart into that show. I really wanted to win it from day one to the last day I was there. And still, today I think I should have won. I really think I did change as a person. I’m still kind of pissed off about how the whole thing ended.

What’s the biggest change? You’re calmer?

Yeah, I actually did change that. I realized that I have a lot to lose now, and it’s just not worth it. All of those people can hate on me all they want. I’m doing good, and they’re not. You know? And I know that and I’ll just keep giving everyone reasons to hate on me because that just means I’m doing everything right.

You were accused of just being there for the money.

I never denied that. I think every single person there was there for the money, and if they say that they weren’t, they’re full of s***. Did I learn stuff? Yes, I did. Did I go into it thinking “Oh, OK, I’m going to change me whole life”? No. Before I even got there I was already thinking I needed to change my whole life because I was already in trouble. It was already not an option for me to f*** up again. So my change started before I even went on the show.

You told Ricki you think you’re a bad mom. What makes you a bad mom?

I don’t think there is a perfect mom out there. I know that I’m not the best mother because I’m not always around. But all that matters to me is my son. He’s 8, so he’s not a little kid. He knows that I would kill and die for him. He knows that he is my world, and his opinion is the only person’s opinion that I care about. He’s my best friend. I love him to death and I talk to him every single day. He’s cool as s***.

Are you still tight with Ashley?

Oh yeah. I’m closest with her.

What about 20 Pack? He’s always talking about how much he likes you.

I know. That’s cute.

Are you together?

No, I’m not dating anybody right now. But 20 is an awesome guy. I think he’s probably the most genuine guy I’ve met so far. But no, were not dating.

Where does your name come from?

I don’t know. My mom made it up I guess.

What’s your racial background?

I’m Mexican. I’m just Mexican.

What about the story that So Hood told me about hitting you on her way out of the house?

That story is the funniest s*** ever. I don’t know why someone would feel the need to have to make up a whole lie. I wasn’t even in the room, so I don’t know what happened as far as her and Marcia, but they did edit out a lot of stuff. From what I heard, she threw a drink on Marcia, and it was getting loud in the room. I was walking through the hallway, and the main producer guy was carrying So Hood out. She was screaming and yelling, and she actually did hit the back of my head. She tapped it. But I don’t know if she meant to hit me, or she was trying to get to Marcia. I flipped out anyway and tried to go after her, and I had cuts all over my leg because I got thrown against the wall by the other security and producer people. But she definitely did not slap the s*** out of me. That girl is f***ing tripping. There is no way in hell I would ever in my life let somebody slap me. That just would never go down. I really don’t like that bitch. And I hope that I do get to fight her one day. I’m actually trying to set up a real fight right now.

What kind of fight?

A normal boxing match

Is she open to the idea?

Yeah, she actually is. I don’t think she has a choice but to fight me. I hope to God that that gets cleared up, because I really don’t like that she even had to lie like that. I think that’s ridiculous.

But wouldn’t a formal match require you to revert to your old, violent ways?

I’m still pissed. It is kind of going back to my violent ways, but it’s legal. And I figured I would get paid off of it, so why not?

Also discussed were your butt implants. How are those working out for you?

I love it. It’s the s***.

They don’t give you any problems?

No. I mean, when I’m sitting on the plane for like six hours, I have to move around since it hurts my ass a little bit. But it’s so freakin’ worth it. It feels real. I love it.

How do you feel about the future? Are you scared of this case pending?

I’m definitely scared about this case, but believe it or not, I pray like every single night. I probably pray like three times a day. I’m really into God and stuff. I feel that I’m just going to leave it in his hands. Either way, I feel like I if I end up going to jail, then it’s meant to be and I’ll end up learning something from it. If I don’t, then it wasn’t meant to be. I’m not afraid of what’s going to happen, I’m just afraid of being away from my son for so long.

Do you know how much time you’re facing?

If I’m convicted, three years. So, not that long.

Is there anything else that we didn’t go over or that you want to clear up?

All these people on these f***ing blogs are a bunch of f***ing haters. I don’t give a s*** about clearing anything up. I don’t care.

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Just made myself a midnight snack.  My midnight these days is 10PM (I swear, a few years ago my midnight was 2AM.  Really.  I used to be fun.)

The snack was a rather sublime plate of scrambled eggs with leek confit (new obsession) and goat cheese.

One of the last things I did for my dad was make him a plate of scrambled eggs.  That was about three weeks ago.  I think he liked them.  And we served him burnt toast too – just like he liked it.

My mom has my dad at home now.  He is sitting on the steps (cremated).  I suspect she kind of likes him there.  He is near the cremated dog, also at home.  A little too macabre for you?  Wimp.

My daughter has learned to wave.  It's about the cutest thing I have seen ever.

Talked to my friend today who runs Vocation Vacations.  Try out your dream job.  I just love that company.  It's the little company that could, with a great mission – helping people find job satisfaction.

This is about the most stressful time in life I have witnessed yet, in all of my 36 years.  There is change, flux and or stress in almost all areas.  A lot of proverbial plates spinning.  And it's happening all around, with most people I know.  And I feel a tense sense of calm, if that makes any sense.  Calm with a hint of edge, at any moment the breeze could blow me off of my otherwise solid perch and over the cliff.  Crazy times we live in, friends, crazy times.  But good in many ways, many that I am sure we cannot fully appreciate now.  For me and my family, there are remembrances, more efficient living, hunkering down and appreciating what we have rather than focusing on acquiring things we don't have.  And someone wise once said, the key to happiness is wanting what you have.  Well, given everything going on right now in the world, perhaps we can all come through this on cloud nine.


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Refugee Resettlement Watch

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Why is Catholic Charities calling the shots on the demographic make-up of Nashville?

Posted by Ann Corcoran on August 8, 2013

Why?  Because the US State Department assigned the supposed non-profit that role after a foolish Governor gave it up.   Writer and Nashville resident Don Barnett tells us more about this stunning loss of state’s right in his opinion piece at The Tennessean today (posted below in its entirety).

Old graphic, but you get the point! Nashville (the home of country music) has more refugees than 29 other US states.

Be sure to have a look at my post in February, here, also about Nashville and how it’s all about turning ‘red’ states ‘blue.’

Barnett (emphasis mine):

At what level of taxpayer support for an entity do we stop calling that entity a “non-government organization” or a “religious nonprofit”?

Revenue in 2011 for Migration and Refugee Services, the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops’ (USCCB) refugee contracting arm, was more than $72 million, about 98 percent of which came from the taxpayer in the form of government grants or federal contracts. Would it surprise anyone to find it subject to the same incentives and laws of behavior that have driven federal contractors since the birth of the republic?

USCCB’s main source of contracts and grants comes from refugee resettlement. The U.S. resettles nearly three times the refugees as the rest of the industrialized world combined, and the USCCB wants that number increased.

According to a recent report from the Washington think tank Migration Policy Institute (MPI), publicly funded private resettlement agencies, USCCB being the largest of nine, “meet with state and local agencies on a quarterly basis regarding the opportunities and services available to refugees in local communities and the ability of these communities to accommodate new arrivals. They also consult with the state refugee coordinator on placement plans for each local site. … If a state opposes the plan, the State Department will not approve it.”

A July 2012 GAO report was a little more real world than the MPI report stating that “Most resettlement agencies … consult with some public entities such as state refugee coordinators; however, most public entities such as public schools and health departments generally said that agencies notified them of the number of refugees expected to arrive in the coming year, but did not consult them regarding the number of refugees they could serve…”

Both reports assume a state government role in the resettlement process. The state refugee coordinator evaluates the plans of the private contractors, representing the interests of the taxpayer in the process. That’s the way it is supposed to work, in theory.

In Tennessee, however, the state refugee coordinator is an employee of Catholic Charities, an affiliate of USCCB. Resettlement of the U.N.-selected refugees is Tennessee Catholic Charities’ largest mission and largest revenue item by far.

In 2008, Gov. Phil Bredesen thought he was streamlining the process and saving money by outsourcing the state coordinator function to the contractor. Instead, he gave up the opportunity for the state to have any input in a process that affects the state and set up a textbook illustration of a conflict of interest.

The annual cost of the program to Tennesseans went up immediately after the state handed over the position of state refugee coordinator. Today, Metro Nashville alone resettles more refugees than each of 29 states in the U.S.

A bill introduced in the 2013 Tennessee legislature had the modest goal of requiring Catholic Charities to keep an accounting of the numbers of refugees it places into programs that carry a cost to the state taxpayer. TennCare, for instance, is about 30 percent funded by the state and most refugees are placed in TennCare upon arrival.

Opposition to the bill was led by none other than the state refugee coordinator, whose motto seems to be “the less the public knows about this, the better.” The bill was deferred for “summer study” where bills often die. In this case, however, it may well come up again.

Hopefully, the 2014 legislature will act to require the contractor to record at least a portion of the costs it is running up on the taxpayers’ tab. A reasonable next step is for Tennessee to reclaim the function of the state refugee coordinator. This office should be representing the taxpayer, not the interests of a private contractor.

Note to citizens elsewhere—-you should at minimum be demanding to know what refugees are costing your state for healthcare, food stamps, Section 8 housing, education and other social services.

Nashville is so significant that we have an entire category (53 previous posts!) devoted to the city and the problems there with refugee resettlement, click here.   Be sure to see some of the recent posts on how Nashville’s open borders advocates  are taking their Nashville game plan to other cities.

3 Responses to “Why is Catholic Charities calling the shots on the demographic make-up of Nashville?”

  1. […] Why is Catholic Charities calling the shots on the demographic make-up of Nashville? […]

  2. tomasrose said

    Ran Kelvin is certainly correct. Here is a paper laying out the ‘vision’ for Nashville, straight out of the Allinsky playbook – written by a Vanderbilt divinity student

  3. Ran Kelvin said

    First I guess that I need to declare that I am a Catholic for no other reason than to short circuit any response that what I am about to say is “anti-Catholic”. With that said I will tell you my story and follow with my opinion.

    Catholicism has undergone the same earthshaking undermining of its tenets, i.e. philosophy and related action. Quite simply, the Church has become captive of socialists and perhaps communists or at least globalists that under the guise of social justice, are involved in the daily destruction of the Spiritual Church and with the supreme goal of deconstructing the West, in particular Europe and North America. Of course not all Catholic Clergy fit this discription however, most of the “organizations” that loosely are Catholic are only so by being called Catholic. These organizations such as Catholic Charities have long ago stopped being anything akin to the True Church. Catholic Charities and others like Pax Christi are political organizations that seek as obama has said, “fundamental change” In essence we have offered premium pay to the wolves to watch our sheep.

    I have encountered many Catholics who now seem to think it is their spiritual duty to change our society to one of diverse cultures. Some of these folks actually believe they are doing good, God’s Work. But don’t let that fool you dear reader. The great majority are bent on mischief and in my experience, truly evil. Now at this point it would not be fair to not also point to other religions that are involved in the same activities, some even more so than Catholics.

    So to answer the question of why should Catholic Charities decide for the State of Tennessee its demographic make-up, let’s start with who the USCCB is. Very simple, most American Bishops of the Catholic Church no longer care for the spiritual health of the flock. They are politicians driven by a philosphy that is foreign to Traditional America and should be to the Church as well. Some are trying to fight against this disgusting behavior and by the way, expose those clergy that have a habit of hiding child molesters and other evil deeds.It is an uphill battle. So, the USCCB used to collect from millions of good Catholics during periodic “drives” money that most of the givers could ill afford. Well, since the internet has become Freedom’s Friend, we have discovered where our money has gone- to political issues opposing our Traditional Catholic and American Life. And that is where the Catholic Charities comes in. It is the long arm of these clergy that have forgot their way and now do the devil’s work, which includes the inciting of discontent within our borders by creating a new Babylon.

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02 Oct 2014 description

The U.S. expanded its aerial campaign against Islamic State (IS) militants in late September with strikes in Syria’s north and east. The operation, which targets both IS and fighters linked to al-Qaeda’s central leadership and the affiliated group Jabhat al-Nusra, risks alienating other rebel groups in Syria and strengthening support for IS.

02 Sep 2014 description

The fight for control of Libya between the Misrata-led Islamist-leaning coalition and the Zintan-led forces is escalating by the day. Hundreds have been killed and thousands displaced in over six weeks of clashes and heavy artillery fire. The Misrata side emerged victorious in the battle over Tripoli’s international airport, taking control of the capital, and made advances around Benghazi, but the larger political divide remains unresolved.

14 Jul 2014 description

From the director

I had the pleasure of joining the IDMC team in 2013, taking the helm from Kate Halff, who after four years of the excellent work and dedicated service, left the organisation in May.

2013 was another year of turmoil for many. Conflicts and disasters worldwide forced millions of people to flee their homes, leaving many stuck in limbo within the borders of their own country.

14 May 2014 description

Joint IDMC-UNHCR press release - A record 33.3 million now displaced by war worldwide, as one family flees inside Syria every 60 seconds - Report

33.3 million people were internally displaced at the end of 2013 due to conflict and violence says a new report by the Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre (IDMC). This equates to a staggering increase of 4.5 million from 2012, signalling a record high for the second year running.


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Human Rights Council Eighteenth session Agenda item 3 Promotion and protection of all human rights, civil, political, economic, social and cultural rights, including the right to development Summary In the present report, the Special Representative of the Secretary-General for children and...


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When you Google "RIT," you're likely to find positive stories on its research projects, athletics and inclusive initiatives. Schools with positive reviews get higher quality student applicants and better funding.

Since becoming a research university, RIT's reputation and publicity have grown exponentially. Recently, U.S. News and World Report ranked RIT 97th among top schools in the country, a gain of 10 spots from last year.

As chief communications officer at RIT, Bob Finnerty runs the public relations department and oversees all communication from RIT including media outlets and social media sites. One of his main responsibilities is shaping how the outside world perceives RIT.

That being said, Finnerty sees himself in more of an advocacy role, and strongly believes in conducting himself in the truthful manner outlined by the Public Relations Society of America

“A lot of us staff [in the PR department] went up with journalism background and keep ethics to our hearts,” Finnerty said.

In a self-graded study, the PR department monitored how much media attention RIT gets worldwide. They found that the university is cited approximately 25,000 times a year. In their final grading, the PR department found that 65 percent of citations were positive, 34.5 percent were neutral and 0.05 percent were negative press.

What's Happened?

In previous years, RIT has been off the hook for bad publicity. This semester, however, multiple fumbles with RIT’s student relations have caused a PR nightmare. Here’s a quick summary:

ROO: During a freshman orientation presentation on consent, the acronym "ROO" — tastefully named after the baby kangaroo from Winnie the Pooh — that stood for "Rub One Out," suggested that self-gratification could prevent assault.  The slide became an internet sensation, going viral and even making it to the Associated Press. A Letter to the Editor on the incident was published at Reporter as well as an article covering student reactions.

"13 Reasons Why": A widely criticized series on Netflix, “13 Reasons Why,” has been charged by the National Association for School Psychologists for "romanticizing suicide." The premiere episode was going to be screened for Suicide Prevention Week, but after students made a Pawprints petition against the showing. Organizers decided to just show the trailer. A statement clarifying the intent of the event was released on Pawprints and provided resources for students struggling with suicide.

Abbey Nurse, a second year Film and Animation student and author of the Pawprints petition, had some thoughts on how the school handled the situation.

“I made it in class (to the dismay of my professor), shared it with everyone in the class, posted it on Facebook, in every group chat I was in and told them to sign it,” Nurse said.

Unfortunately, 15 minutes after posting the petition the Pawprints site temporarily crashed, but it didn’t keep her from getting the word out. Nurse, who suffers from clinical depression herself, understands the dangers of bad messaging for students struggling with suicide.

“Suicide sells,” Nurse said. “[13 Reasons Why] turns suicide into a revenge game.”

Trans Healthcare: Reporter published a story over the summer about the abrupt firing of Dr. Annamaria Kontor, the only staff physician trained to fill prescriptions for transgender students seeking hormone therapy. The legal battle over this issue is still ongoing, and has been recently covered by The Democrat & Chronicle as well.

Does RIT have a Communication Problem?

While there’s no changing what’s been done, RIT’s response to these scandals speaks volumes on their ability to listen and adapt to student concerns.

“I feel RIT does not have a transparency problem,” Finnerty said. “If there’s a statement that has to be had, we would write it, then run it by the appropriate team such as the VP or legal."

Second year Game Design major John Blau would argue otherwise. As an RA and therefore a student employee, he has a unique perspective on the inner workings of RIT's administrative departments.

“In terms of telling the general population what’s going on, we have a bit of a transparency problem, but internally we handle it well,” Blau said.

Blau explained that the announcement of Suicide Prevention Week was co-sponsored by the Center for Residence Life. He was sent out to promote the "13 Reasons Why" event to his floor. Blau, along with other staff, explained the issues of the series with management and worked together internally to change the event. Externally, however, the diligent efforts of the staff goes unnoticed.

“The transparency and honesty of just saying, ‘Hey, we messed up,’ didn’t come across well,” Blau said.

The consequences of controlling the narrative to protect RIT’s reputation publicly can be damaging to current relations with students. Blau says that after the ROO incident, it became difficult to send his floor members to the Center for Women and Gender because they no longer saw it as a place for counseling or support.

“When these things happen it makes it difficult to tell people to get help. I need to have confidence in the places I send them,” Blau said. “It de-legitimizes the work I’m trying to do and the work they do.”

Good PR can lessen mass media fallout, but student fallout may not be so easily repaired. Transparency can’t fall completely on the PR department though. Student advocacy groups such as Student Government and Gray Matters are all part of a movement to mitigate transparency problems. It is also the responsibility of students to speak up and push for corrective measures on campus. In fact, Finnerty wants the PR office to be a place where students feel comfortable voicing complaints.

“Send emails to appropriate departments and divisions, come in face-to-face and make an appointment,” Finnerty said. “It’s important to have face-to-face meetings from the folks you feel you’re not being heard from.”

At the end of the day, the power to control the narrative also lies with the students.


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Guest speaker at RIT and corporate defense attorney Hank Jones conducted a college lecture on the current atmosphere of debate in America culture. His message was simple: America is facing a systematic epidemic of “political correctness." According to Jones, the magnitude of this social corruption is unknown but is ruining academic discussions.

“If we want to get anything done in this country we can’t be afraid of hurting feelings. The fear to offend is turning into a fear of speaking your mind,” Jones said.

The fear to offend is turning into a fear of speaking your mind.

During his forum, Jones provided a five-step plan to being “politically incorrect." His goal is to desensitize students to insulting language so they can be more effective in debates. Jones explains that in any discussion, your goal is to “win."

“I have been an attorney for 20 years. Have I made people cry on the witness stand? Absolutely! But I’ve also won every case I had,” Jones said.

The Five-Step Plan to Political Incorrectness, as outlined by Hank Jones:

1. Always be the first to speak

Abruptly interject yourself into a conversation about a sensitive subject matter. It doesn’t really matter if you are an expert, or have any credible knowledge. Just as long as you speak first and speak loud, you should be all set!

2. Be broad

Provide a quick generalization of the subject. If you need to exaggerate to make your point sound more potent, do it! Don’t worry about offering any evidence to back up your claims. The use of logical fallacies are optional but highly recommended.

3. You are always right

State your opinions as unadulterated facts. When someone provides a counterargument to your claims, figuratively (or literally) put your fingers in your ears and yell, “La, la, la, I can’t hear you!” Remember, if someone disagrees, they are wrong.

4. Exercise your freedom of speech

When someone accuses your claims of being offensive (aka politically incorrect) retort that it is your First Amendment right to free speech and “anti-free-speech is anti-democracy." Remember to say what you want, damned the consequences.

5. Never back down

Never relent, concede or backpedal on your argument. Once you have confirmed that you have won the argument, there is a possibility the other party will be thoroughly upset. Just pat yourself on the back and NEVER apologize even if evidence is provided that refutes your claim. You can only be wrong if you accept you are.

Jones’ book was released early last year. Some students were able to go home with a signed copy. Jim Brown, third year of Bakery Engineering Technologies major, explained that he had purchased Jones’ book last semester and began putting his teachings to practice.

“I really did love reading the book, but it does have its consequences. I used the steps on my girlfriend and she slapped me,” Brown said.

Brown obviously had not read the disclaimer, hidden in the middle of a word scramble on page 666 of the book which states that "using the five-step plan to political incorrectness is liable to get you slapped."


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Wednesday, August 20, 2014

"The Laird" (Grace Burrowes) with GIVEAWAY!!

Book: The Laird
Author: Grace Burrowes
Release Date: September 2, 2014
Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca
Genre: Historical Romance

He left his bride to go to war...
After years of soldiering, Michael Brodie returns to his Highland estate to find that the bride he left behind has become a stranger. Brenna is self-sufficient, competent, confident-and furious. Despite her anger at Michael's prolonged absence, Brenna has remained loyal to her husband, though Michael's people, and most especially the uncle who held the estate together for him, make it clear they expect Michael to set Brenna aside.
Though his most important battle will be for her heart.
Michael left Brenna when she needed him most, and then stayed away even after the war ended. Nonetheless, the young man who abandoned her has come home a wiser, more patient and honorable husband. Brenna is hurt, bewildered, and tired of fighting for the respect of those around her, but if she trusts Michael with the truths she'd been guarding, he'll have to choose between his wife and everything he holds dear.
Sometime after she’d fallen exhausted into her bed, Brenna felt the mattress dip and shift. A pleasant whiff of vetiver, whiskey—and meadow grass?—came to her as her husband arranged himself two feet to her left.
The next sound was harder to decipher, but she managed—the soles of two big male feet rubbing together, the bedtime equivalent of shaking the dust of the day from one’s feet, a small safeguard in the direction of keeping the sheets clean if conducted with those feet hanging over the side of the bed.
Michael punched his pillows next, several stout blows that would have knocked wayward notions from grown men.
“Are you trying to wake me up, Husband?”
The punching stopped, and she felt him flop down onto the mattress—and heard the put-upon male sigh with which he tucked himself in.
“You did not lock the door, Brenna. My things are in this room.”
So was his wife.
“Neither one of us wants talk.” The bed was huge, and they weren’t touching, but Brenna could feel her husband thinking.
“I did not want you to conclude I was sneaking up on you.”
“You’re hard to miss when encountered in a bed, Michael. Go to sleep. Morning comes quickly.” And yet, she was pleased the pillows had taken a few warning shots on her behalf.
“You want time.”
“I want a good night’s sleep.” Though she should have anticipated that, like any man, Michael would want to beat a topic to death once broached. He could not ponder a discussion and undertake it in manageable portions; he must have done with it, regardless of the hour.
“I want time, too, Brenna Maureen.”
Brenna rolled to her side, wishing she’d left a candle burning, despite the extravagance. “Time for what?”
“I was a good soldier, once I saw what was expected of me. It’s part of the reason I went to France. I was to look after my men, the same as a laird looks after his people. When I went to France, it was much the same, though I was in a garrison with soldiers of a different nationality. We looked after one another, most of the time, and when a man lapsed in that duty, he suffered consequences.”
What was he saying, and why must he say it to her in pitch darkness?
“If I were planning to run off, Michael Brodie, I would have scarpered long since. Many and many a family has left the Highlands, including entire branches of clan MacLogan. I could easily have gone with them.” Though her own clansmen had hardly recalled where they’d stashed her, once she’d come to live at Castle Brodie.
A considering pause ensued, and then Brenna felt a single, callused finger trace down the side of her jaw.
“You might have left, but you stayed. I’m glad you stayed.”
"The Laird" By Grace Burrowes - the third installment of the Captive Hearts Trilogy and my absolute favorite!!  I truly enjoyed Michael in "The Traitor" although he was quite mysterious.  He was wonderful in this book.  He is kind, passionate and most importably, patient with his wife, Brenna.  Michael struggles with his feelings and this I found even more endearing.  Brenna is a strong woman but, at the same time, extremely vulnerable.  She has many secrets, especially from her husband.  This is the story of Michael and Brenna reuniting after a lengthy absence - it is sweet, fun, frustrating and heartbreaking.  It takes time for Brenna to trust Michael, despite loving him.  It was fun to see Sebastian and Milly - so happy that Milly and Brenna became friends too.  I did find this book easier to read than the previous too - it wasn't so formal.  If you enjoy historical romances, I'd suggest you pick this one up.  Although it's the third in the trilogy, I believe you could read it as a standalone.  (received ARC for an honest review).    ✔✔✔✔✔

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Grace Burrowes' bestsellers include The Heir, The Soldier, Lady Maggie's Secret Scandal, Lady Sophie's Christmas Wish and Lady Eve's Indiscretion. Her Regency romances have received extensive praise, including starred reviews from Publishers Weekly and Booklist. Grace is branching out into short stories and Scotland-set Victorian romance with Sourcebooks. She is a practicing family law attorney and lives in rural Maryland.

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