Arrows got a new cover!!  Personally, I'm delighted. There were a few things that bugged me a little about the last one and I think this cover design does a much better job capturing the feel of the book.
The reason for the new cover is because the artist who designed the e-copy cover no longer works for the publishing company. 
 

Hope you love it, because I sure do. :)  

Now, I know how many electronic copies I've sold and I'm hoping that many of you are holding out for the print.  It's set to release in April, but there is the possibility that it will release sooner.  

Check back for updates. 

Let me know what you like about this cover.

It wasn't Brooklyn's exact birthday. It was a few days later, but since we're new to the area, we don't know a lot of people. But I wanted to do SOMETHING with SOMEONE.
A lady from church invited me over for a play date with some other women and I made cupcakes for the event.  Getting frosted cupcakes, two kids and a diaper bag to the car isn't an easy feat because I only have two arms. Shocking, I know.  
I had Brooklyn in my right arm, the diaper bag draped over my shoulder and the cupcakes in my fully-extended left arm. Adi followed me out the door and I managed to put the cupcakes in the passenger seat and then buckle the girls in. I walked back up to the door, pulled the the last five inches shut, locked it, and started back to the car. 
Unfortunately my phone was still inside the house.
I mean, fortunately my phone was still in the house.
I unlocked the door and standing in my entryway were two of these.

That's right. Two pitbulls. Only the two inside my house had no collars.  Granted, they had about the same innocent expression.  But I absolutely lost my mind. 
I screamed. I shouted. I may have accidently even cussed. I pretended that I was going to kick them. And they meandered out like I was the weirdest person they'd ever seen. Maybe I was. Maybe they usually sneak into homes and are greeted with T-bone steak and adoration.
I may greet many guests with steak and love, but not stray dogs.

Some things I am grateful for with this situation.
-My phone was inside.
-My children were not inside.
-The dogs didn't attack me.
-I didn't attack the dogs.
-They didn't poop or break anything.
-I didn't decide to leave my phone home and lock them INSIDE my house for 3 hours while I went to playgroup.


Oh, and on the way inside playgroup, Brooklyn bridged the gap between me and the cupcakes and caught one with her face. Happy Birthday! 

I ran over a cat today.

Well...I didn't really run over it.
And it wasn't actually a cat...it was a tumbleweed. 
Truth be told, I tripped on a tumbleweed.
This story just got boring. 

Do you ever get so hungry that you can't even think straight?  Well, I do. And the longer I go without food, the more indecisive I become. 
I went into a cafe and bought two vitamin waters for $3.20.  Then I realized they were both zero calories. That wasn't gonna do anything for my hunger. I drank one and then I decided I had to buy something with substance. I walked up to the counter at said cafe and said, "I'll take a sandwich."  Hey, it's better than just saying, "Give me food please."
He asked which kind and I just took the first one he suggested since I was starving.  (exaggeration...it'd been like 5 hours since I'd eaten).
He made it, wrapped it up, set it on the counter. 
I said, "Thanks," and I took the nearest seat.
Immediately I was saddened to find that there was heavy chipotle sauce on this sandwich because I find chipotle to be undesirable. 
(side note: Whenever I said a bad word such as stupid, or dumb, or called my sisters names as a child, I was administered a single drop of Tabasco Sauce. Now whenever I eat something spicy, I feel inclined to swear since I'm already being punished for it.)
Fortunately I didn't swear, I just took a few more bites of my sandwich when an employee approached me and said, "Excuse me miss, did you pay for that?"
Offended I replied, "Yes....no."
Actually I didn't. I never paid for my food. Looking like a thief and a dumb thief at that made me more embarassed than my smeared mascara (which I noticed about 20 minutes later). I took my sandwich and took a seat. Had I taken my sandwich to go, I probably never would have remembered that I never paid for my sandwich.
Feeling sheepish and apologitic I went up and paid.
He charged me for the sandwich and the two vitamin waters he saw on my table.  Dishonesty cost me $3.20 today.  I'm glad my integrity is worth much more than that.
Too bad the sandwich wasn't that great. 

I recently chopped all my hair off. I mean, not ALL of it, but a significant portion of it.  I love it. I really do love having a pixie cut. I think its reflective of my sassy, spunky personality and the low-maintenance part of styling it is awesome.
But I have to get it cut every 5 weeks. Or so they tell me. I don't know who "they" are.
Usually I'm a go-to-great-clips-get-a-15-dollar-haircut sort of person. However, since it seems a little more risky with short hair, I started calling salons.
I kid you not I had a lady say this to me, "Sorry, all of our stylists are booked. They simply cannot take on any new clients."
Seriously...
This makes no sense to me. Hair culture is something very new to me. This sort of a reply would make sense if I was looking for a therapist or a literary agent (cough- I am looking for an agent- cough), but for a haircut. I told her, "I'm just trying to get a haircut. I'm not looking for a long-term relationship."
Apparently I should have been. 
The good news: I found a place that could cut my hair. I called on Wednesday and they had an opening at 2 on Friday. After that, the next opening for ANY stylist was in three weeks.  I was itching for a haircut so I took the 2pm and decided I would have to find a babysitter.
Let me skip the boring parts.
Kids are with a friend. I'm sitting in the chair after the lady washes my hair and she drapes the vampire cape over me and says, "I'm a level 3 stylist, so my cuts are 49 dollars."
"49 dollars?" I swivel to look at her face instead of her reflection. "For a cut?"
"Yes. I'm a level three stylist."
Well EXCUSE me. I had no idea that cosmetology was that closely related to dungeons and dragons!  Level 3 stylist. Who knew that was even a thing? I didn't say any of that. I considered leaving or asking if there were any Level 1 stylists available. But the kids were with a sitter and I was already here. The hassle of getting a different hair appointment might be worth the money. "I guess it's a little late to say no."
So she began and I started talking about my kids and my husband. She lowered her sissors. "I don't want to hear about your kids. I don't want to hear about your husband.  This is your YOU time. When you come in here, you aren't a mom. You aren't a wife. You are just you."
I'm sure she meant it in the kindest way possible, but it wasn't a kind thing to say, regardless of intent. I'm defined greatly by my roles as a mother and wife. 
I didn't say much for the rest of the haircut.  Then when she was done cutting she said, "Hows this?"
I pullled out my phone and asked, "Will I potentially be able to style it like this?"  Is the top short enough for me to do that? Because this is a sweet look."
 

"I can't make you look like Jennifer Lawrence, no."
I farced a laugh. "I'm just asking about her hair."
"Yeah,"
"What product would I need to get texture like this?"
She reaches over to her table, opens a pomade and rubs it in my hair.  Four minutes later and with some blow drying, I looked more like this. 

Yeah...those aren't the same hairstyles.....at all...

But it had been an hour and I didn't want wear out my babysitter. So I said it was fine and I walked with her up to the front.

She starts talking to her friend the cashier. "49 for the cut, and 19 for styling it, and this is the pomade that she wanted, and here's the round brush that I used."
The cashier smiles at me. "Okay honey, that'll be $119.  How much of a tip do you want to leave?"
All I can think is 119....119...119.  That's more than I've spent on my hair care in the last three years COMBINED.  
Apparently blow drying my hair to look like Miley cost me 19 dollars and my question regarding which product meant, "Open a $20 pomade and use some in my hair so that I have to buy it."
The only one I argued out of was the brush. I guess I'M the bad guy cause I refused to tip her.
And I won't be going back.

Hence, Wanted: New Stylist.