Charity Sunday: RWJ Barnabas Field of Dreams

How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!


A few weeks ago, I saw a news feature of a playground in Toms River, New Jersey. The B.W.J. Barnabas Health playground is very special because it’s designed to fit every level of ability a child can manage. (The playground can also be used by adults who have special needs and even some recovering from surgery.) The design of the playground is phenomenal, all due to the vision of Christian Kane, the town of Toms River, and corporations who pitched in to help. Kane’s brilliant idea is to benefit his son who was severely injured in a car accident as an infant, but who now, and age 8 or so, wants to play baseball.

The mission of the complex is: The Toms River Field of Dreams (TRFOD) is a project with a mission to encourage and engage our communities (Monmouth and Ocean Counties), with a focus on those with special needs, in physical and social activity by building a community complex to provide opportunities for special needs individuals of all ages and abilities to engage, explore and socialize together.

If you check out the website, scroll down the Home page and watch one of the videos that describe this amazing place. You’ll see why I’m so impressed. This donation will be going to the Toms River complex, where they still have work to finish. But these types of playgrounds can, and should, be available all over the country. Think of the joy! Thanks for your help!!


My book this month is a fantasy and study in adults who need special things, things that will—mysteriously—make their dreams come true. Your Desire

Your Desire by Dee S. Knight

Blurb:
Your Desire. A mysterious shop appears in town for one reason: to bring the spice of passion and the thrill of love to one special person. Magic is in more than the item purchased—it’s in the heart of the buyer, often hidden, usually surprising. And after enchantment takes hold and the fantasy is fulfilled? The store fades from sight and memory, only to reappear somewhere else. Maybe in your town…?

Buy link:
Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt:
The whir of a sewing machine traveled across the ether. As intended, the sound blended with the those of a lawn mower in Cleveland, a blender in Dallas, an electric razor in Seattle. Some people, those specially attuned to properties outside the normal realm of humans, heard buzzing that could have been a sewing machine, but it was faint and truly indistinguishable for what it was. More like a mosquito at the ear. They heard it but couldn’t decipher exactly where to swat, so they did their best ignore it.

Of course, the sound was not supposed to be heard, and therefore not investigated. The very few who did hear it clearly, who also heard Nigel and his granddaughter clearly, well, they generally resided in a hospital setting where three squares a day were provided and tranquility came in the form of little green pills. At the least, they saw a shrink three times a week. Their knowledge wasn’t taken seriously.

This worried Nigel, but what could he do? It wasn’t his fault humans had devolved to the point where they no longer believed in enchantment. He shook his head and tsked as he sewed. When he was a boy learning the business from his grandfather as his granddaughter now learned from him, no one would have believed the universe could get to this point, where people believed in the “magic” of technology but not the magic that could be found in their own hearts.

Of course, challenges were exciting, and skeptical humans certainly kept him on his toes.

Absently, he hummed as he completed the final seam on the full, purple satin skirt. He pulled it from the machine, snipped the threads and shook the material out before pinning it on the dress form.

“Edwina! I have the skirt finished. Come here, dear.” Standing back to cast a critical eye over how the skirt hung, he held up an artist’s rendition of what the final product should be. He looked from drawing to garment, made a few small adjustments to the pleating around the waist and nodded in satisfaction.

“Hey, Gramps,” his granddaughter said, bounding into the room.

For the millionth time, he mentally cringed at the lack of style in today’s youth. Their kind had the ability to appear any way they wished. Glancing in the mirror, he saw a debonair David Niven reflected back. The sleeves of his snowy white shirt were rolled to his elbows, but the Windsor knot in his tie was perfect, as was the knife-sharp crease in his trousers and the shine on his shoes. When he rolled down his sleeves and put on his jacket, he would look every inch the gentleman. Quirking his brows in approval, he unconsciously ran a fingertip lightly over his moustache. Instead of selecting what he would consider an appropriate shell, Edwina—a name which screamed propriety—chose to look like a bag lady gone wild.

Like today, for instance. Long blond hair, streaked with pink and purple, pulled up into a ponytail to hang down the side of her head. Black lipstick and eye shadow. Two earrings in one ear and four in the other. A bright orange tank top and faded jeans—separated scandalously by a good three inches of bare stomach—looked as though they’d been worn (and torn) for centuries. And her feet—her lovely, dainty feet!—were shod in horrid, ugly brown things that not even the most desperate soldier in Caesar’s army would have donned.

When he had questioned her once about her appearance, she’d said with delight that she was starting her own trend. A Lauper-Madonna-Pink look. It was not something he’d understood. Today, after a quick perusal, he leaned closer.

“What is that?” He swiped his thumb across her cheek, then examined what was on the pad.

“Body glitter. Isn’t it cool?” She grinned at him.

Her enthusiasm, as well as her utter lack of self-consciousness, brought the slightest of smiles to his eyes, even as his mouth formed a moue of reproach.

“Yes, well.” He wiped his thumb on a handkerchief pulled from the pocket of his jacket, hanging on the wall behind Edwina. “‘Cool’ is what ice cubes provide. I don’t know what body glitter is good for.”

Giggles flowed from her, reminding him of when she was a small girl instead of the nearly grown youngster she was now. Where had the centuries gone? Despite the shudders her wardrobe caused, he loved Edwina enormously and strove to give her the very best education in what they did, which was make dreams come true.

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! On the last Sunday of the month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity. Sign up for her newsletter for exclusive access to free novellas, poetry, and stuff.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

Charity Sunday: St. Jude’s

Charity SundayHow Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!


St. Jude's and Danny ThomasThis month I’d like to talk about St Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital, founded by singer/comedian, Danny Thomas, and located in Memphis, TN. I have always associated St. Jude’s with pediatric cancer, but after a little research found that they treat other catastrophic diseases in children, too. I also recently learned that donations also cover travel, housing, and food—huge costs for families whose children are far from home to receive the specialized care they need.

I know about part of this personally, in that my parents always had to travel a long distance when I was in the Shrine Hospitals. In addition to the trip, staying for any length of time was all extra, and my folks did not have much money. Getting help with travel, food, and housing is a tremendous thing.
In addition to the good work St. Jude’s does, I appreciate the amount of each dollar donated goes to the hospital and its work—82 cents of every dollar. That’s a great percentage of return that has earned it a 4-star rating from Charity Navigator!


I don’t have children, so I can’t begin to imagine what it would be like to have a child in great need. But I have written characters with children, and I hope I’ve imbued some sense of the love between child and parent, especially between single parent Sara Richards and her daughter Paula in Burning Bridges. My mom always knows when something is wrong just by hearing my voice, and I gave that same talent to Sara. Must be a “mother” thing! 😉

Her thoughts were interrupted by the ring of the landline. “Good morning. Beauty by Beaufort.”

“Mom?”

With only one word spoken Sara knew something was wrong. “Good morning, sweetheart. Aren’t you at work?”

“No, I took a sick day.”

Sara’s brow creased with worry. “Paula, what’s wrong?”

Her daughter’s voice caught. “Mom, I feel so silly but I had to talk to you. I was cleaning up the apartment last night and I found an acceptance letter from Northwestern for Dan.”

“Northwestern? That’s in…uh, it’s in—”

“Chicago.”

“But I thought he was going to attend law school at South Carolina, in Columbia.” Sara took a breath. “Chicago is a very long way. Did Dan say he wanted to go?”

“I didn’t tell him I found the letter, but I know he does.”

“Oh, Paula. How do you feel?”

Paula’s tone tightened as though she held back tears. “I don’t want to go. Mom, he’s had the letter for two or three days I think, and he hasn’t said a word.”

“Maybe he’s thought about it and decided to turn them down.”

“I don’t think so. He talked about it months ago, about how great the Northwestern program is. I got upset that he was looking into a school that far away, and he hasn’t brought it up since. But I know he hasn’t forgotten.”

“So, you’re not certain he’s chosen Northwestern. The law school at Carolina is excellent, too.”

“I know, and so does Dan. But lately he’s been restless. I think he wants a change.” Her voice broke. “I think he wants a change in more than where he attends school.”

Sara couldn’t contain a soft gasp. “Paula! Has he said anything, done anything?”

“No, but for the past few weeks he’s been really quiet. Oh, I don’t mean he acts mad or nasty, he just seems…uncomfortable around me. And the fact remains that he didn’t tell me about the acceptance from Northwestern. I only found it because it fell out of a book when I was dusting.”

“You have to talk to him. Believe me, I know the dangers of not communicating when things don’t seem right.” The bell over the front door rang and Sara stood to see who was entering. She was surprised to see her mother, but a quick glance at her watch showed that the morning was nearly gone. “Do you want to come home this weekend?”

“No, but thanks.” Paula gave a nervous laugh. “I’m half afraid if I leave for any length of time, I’ll come home to find him packed and gone. You know, he hasn’t proposed. He hasn’t even suggested I go with him to Chicago.”

Sara lowered her voice. “Honey, I’m so sorry. But Dan loves you. You need to talk to him, let him know how you feel.”

Her mother entered the office and set a bag from Bay Street Deli on the desk. “Paula?” she mouthed. Sara nodded. “Let me say hello to her.” Her mother held her hand out for the receiver.

“Paula, your grandmother is here and wants to say hi. But call me tonight, will you?”

“Sure. I feel better just telling someone about what’s going on. I love you, Mama.”

Hot tears stung the backs of Sara’s eyes, a reaction she experienced whenever Paula reverted to Mama. “I love you, too, pumpkin.” She handed the phone to her mother.

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…