Channeling Blitz

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Mystery / Thriller

Date Published: March 12, 2024

 

 

Defying gravity, manipulating the naked eye, and moving faster than time
itself? These abilities, or Channels, were once considered impossible yet
are now commonplace, and the small town of Lockwood, New Hampshire is no
exception. In 2055, society has progressed to include and incorporate
Channeling as a natural part of life. This is made possible by the
establishment of the Department of Channel Control and the limited abilities
most Channelers have. However, this all changes when four students at
Lockwood University discover they can take their Channels further than ever
thought possible. Now, the more Rachel, Miles, Angelo, and Clayton discover
about their abilities and their pasts, the more dangerous their lives
become.

 

About the Author

Andrew Teague McCollister

Andrew has always been passionate about writing and storytelling. They
describe themselves as a curious Writer who loves exploring diverse themes,
motifs, and genres. As part of their writing process, they love immersing
themselves in their projects—diving headfirst into the research,
production, and fine-tuning of the stories they feel are the most worthy of
telling.

 

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My Illusion of Normal Blitz

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The Peculiar Case of Jean Stevens

Inspirational, Spiritual, True Crime

Date Published: March 21, 2024

Publisher: Mindstir Media

 

 

As a retired death investigator, I have discovered throughout my career
that what I once interpreted as normalcy was grossly misunderstood. I have
learned that lifestyles greatly vary from individual to individual,
situation to situation, and ideology to ideology. A “normal
situation” and “normal behavior” are relative to any given
individual in any given environment. The inevitability of death is highly
overwhelming. There are some who fear death. But, little do they know, fear
has nothing to do with death, for it is death that fears nothing. At the
core of the fear of death is the fear of destruction, which refers to the
extinction of mind, spirit, soul, and the destruction of the body- that is
nonexistent.

This book is the true story and behind-the-scene look into the case of Jean
Stevens. A case that would change my life, both professionally and
personally, forever. Together, Jean and I learned from each other. This case
is particularly of interest since it caters to the topic of death and life
and how loneliness brings havoc in our normally functioning life. Since
death separates one being from the other, the feeling of never meeting the
one that is gone is excruciating. This permanent separation can drive people
to do things they wouldn’t usually consider doing. How far would you go to
remain with the ones you love? You will learn how far an elderly woman went
to remain with hers.

 

About the Author

Tom Carman is an American author who currently resides in Pennsylvania. As
a retired Medicolegal Death Investigator, he has investigated over 2,000
deaths. Additionally, he has served as a consultant on several other cases.
Tom has had the opportunity to get first-hand behind the scene knowledge of
both scenes and people. Tom believes in love, grace, forgiveness, and hope.
As a non-judgmental, now walking in Spirit man, he shares his personal
journey with many. For many years Tom lived in flesh and is very familiar
with sin, hardship, and knows the difficulties of starting over and
accepting death. Having been formerly incarcerated, Tom now dedicates his
life to serving the underdogs of the world by delivering hope. He believes
wholeheartedly that anyone can receive this hope and begin a new journey
leaving their past behind.

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The Other Side of the Mirror Virtual Book Tour

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The Mirrored Trilogy, #1

 

Fantasy Romance / Romantasy

Date Published: 04-09-2024

Publisher: City Owl Press

 

 

What if the fairytale was always a lie?

Seven years after her family’s murders, Eva is attacked by a magical creature and abducted to the faerie realm. When a handsome fae saves her, Bash reveals that he must bring Eva to her faerie soulmate to stop a world-ending Curse. She relents, but only for the opportunity to find answers about her parents’ deaths.

As their journey progresses, Eva delves into her previously hidden magic—and grows steadily closer to Bash. But when she meets her prince, she soon learns that all is not what it seems. While mystery and intrigue surround her, Eva takes it into her own hands to uncover the truth. But what she discovers is beyond her imagination, as she unravels the fae’s web of lies.

Don’t miss this romantasy into the fae realm with hidden secrets, steamy romance, and true fantasy adventure.

The Other Side of the Mirror tablet

EXCERPT

PROLOGUE 

 

The smoke was everywhere, curling around a framed picture of our family like it would strangle them with those dark tendrils. Just as it was trying to do to us now. The fire had spread too fast, moving too quickly to be real, as though the blaze was a living creature bent on destroying us. I took a deep breath, then coughed harshly as the smoke scorched my throat. 

Covering my nose and mouth with my sleeve, I started to move down the hallway toward the back door…but my mother grabbed my wrist, pulling me to a stop. The gold that encircled the pupils of her hazel eyes glowed in the light of the flames as she wordlessly dragged me in the other direction, her other hand clenched around my brother’s. 

Tobias’s eyes were wide as he took in the flames engulfing our home. “We need to help Dad—” 

“No.” My mother pulled us away from the closest exit and into our living room. “This way.” 

I struggled as I realized where she was taking us, but her hand was like a steel vise around my wrist. “There’s no way out from here, we need to—” 

“Trust me,” my mother gasped hoarsely as she led us toward the oversized mirror on the back wall. It gleamed strangely in the firelight—the glass rippling curiously. 

A trick of the heat? 

“This is the only way out,” she continued. “You need to get to Quinn’s…” 

She coughed fitfully, a harsh, choked sound, and I knew if we stayed here another minute, the fire would be the least of our problems. The black smoke seared down my throat, as my eyes streamed tears. 

“Mom, you need to tell us what’s going on,” I croaked. “Who was that—” 

I didn’t have a chance to finish my thought before she placed her hand on my chest and pushed me toward the mirror. Stumbling backwards, I reached behind me, grabbing onto the metal frame of the mirror, screaming as the brass rosettes trailing along the edge of the glass burned into the palm of my hand. 

Tobias sucked in a breath as he took in the angry burn. “Eva—” 

“You need to go, now,” my mother choked out, her voice breaking. “Your dad and I will hold him off.” She put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing Tobias’s hand in the other. “Eyes up, stout hearts. Remember, the only way out is through.” 

The familiar refrain sounded frighteningly like a goodbye. From a glance, I could tell Tobias heard it too. 

A sob lodged in my throat, and I choked on it. 

“Come with us, Mom,” Tobias pleaded, as confused as I was as he glanced at the undulating mirror. “Don’t…you don’t have to leave us.” 

She only looked at him sadly, then at me. “I love you.” 

For the rest of my life, I would regret not saying those three words back to her in that moment. 

Then the door on the other side of the room was kicked open with a crash. A hooded figure stalked forward, barely visible through the smoke. My mother ran at him with a battle cry. 

A blinding light flashed through the space, cutting through the din like lightning. My mother started screaming as the glow surrounded her, an endless keening howl as the brightness illuminated the man in the doorway. 

Frozen with shock and pain, my eyes locked with his through the haze of the heat, his pale eyes flashing in the strange light as blood dripped from his sword. 

His lips curved in a terrifying, soulless smile. “Finally.” 

My brother took a step toward our mom. But something bright slammed into my chest, and I fell back toward the mirror in an endless instant. All I could think was that I needed to get to Quinn’s house, somewhere safe, somewhere I could get help— 

But the solid glass wasn’t there. 

I screamed as I fell into the nothingness, my eyes closing as I welcomed the darkness. 

 

About the Author

Dana Evyn

Dana Evyn has been lost in her daydreams for as long as she can remember,
though only recently started writing them down. She’s usually lost in
a book—especially one with an indominable female lead, a unique
magical world, and a dark twist you don’t see coming. She’s a
mother of two tiny humans and a large golden retriever, and lives near
Seattle, WA.

 

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Bullet Teaser

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(Grim Road MC)

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap

Date Published: April 12, 2024

 

 

Cecilia: The enigmatic biker is the one bright spot in my life. I see him
three or four times a week at the cafe down the block. Talking to him about
books we’re reading or our hopes and dreams helps me escape my
reality, if only for a short time. Most of the time we don’t even sit
at the same table. He’s everything I ever wanted but know I can never
have. We simply cross paths. Him going… wherever he goes. Me…
I know I’m going straight to hell. Nothing but a miracle can save me.
The Devil owns my soul.

Bullet: There’s something about the small, dark-haired woman I see at
the corner cafe. She’s everything I’m attracted to in a woman,
but she’s so young it’s laughable. I didn’t set out to
seduce her, but the next thing I know she’s in my bed and I spend the
most incredible night with her. I wake up the next morning to a cool pillow.
No note. No way to contact her. I chalk it up to a young woman not wanting
drama in her life until I see her again a few days later. This time,
she’s in my ICU, beaten to within an inch of her life. Someone’s
going to pay. God have mercy on their soul. Because I won’t.

 

WARNING: Bullet includes scenes of graphic violence and adult situations
that may be triggers for some readers. There’s also a protective hero,
a determined heroine, and an eventual happy ending. No cheating, as
always.

Bullet phone

EXCERPT

Bullet

“Just another glorious day in the ICU, Attie.” The fresh-faced
resident was trying way too hard to socialize. I’d noticed the pup did
the same with all the attendings. I accepted he was trying to fit in and
carve his place with people who would be his peers once he’d finished
his residency, but no one — fucking no one — called me
“Attie.”

“My name,” I said, not looking up from the laptop where I was
finishing up a physical assessment for the patient I’d just seen,
“is Atticus. Or Dr. Benedict. Call me Attie again, I’ll
personally see to it you fail this rotation.” If the kid had been a
prospect, I’d have beat the shit outta him. But I couldn’t do
that. Not in this world. Which was a Goddamned shame because if an adult
hadn’t learned how to treat people with respect by this guy’s
age, he needed an ass whoopin’.

I was beginning to think it was past time I left practice in the civilian
world and stayed at the Grim Road compound full time. Traveling back and
forth was risky anyway. The last thing I wanted was someone following me to
the compound. They wouldn’t be able to get in, but it would draw
attention to us, which I did not want. Still. Here I was. Trying not to
punch an intern.

Fuck. Me.

I didn’t give the kid time to respond. Instead, I shut the laptop,
picked it up, and headed back down the hall to the lounge. I wanted to
finish my day so I could get a bite to eat — and maybe some stimulating
conversation that didn’t involve body fluids or death. I’d had
enough of that in the Air Force, yet here I was. I’d thought I’d
fulfill some sense of purpose by continuing to work with critically ill
patients in a different setting, but death was death.

“He’s just trying to fit in, Atticus.” One of my
colleagues, Phil Davis, clapped me on the shoulder as he pulled up a chair.
“Don’t be so hard on the kid.”

“I’ve told him repeatedly not to shorten my name. I’m
tired of fuckin’ with him.”

“He’ll make a decent doctor if you help train him
right.”

“I’m not a mentor, Phil. I told you that when you hired me.
I’m supposed to be an intensivist. Not a teacher.” It was a sore
spot. The hospital had promised me I wouldn’t have to supervise
interns or residents. Yet here I was.

“You know how it is, man. There’s a shortage of healthcare
staff. That includes doctors. Why keep these kinds of hours when you can do
family medicine?” He shrugged. “The hospital owns the offices,
so they all get paid a salary just like we do. Only difference is the hours.
They get nights, weekends, and holidays off. We don’t.”

“Coulda had better pay and better benefits if I’d stayed in the
fuckin’ Air Force,” I grumbled. “Kid’s got this last
chance. He calls me Attie again, I’ll do more than fail his rotation.
I’ll kick his fuckin’ ass.”

Phil chuckled, likely thinking I was joking. I wasn’t. “Just
give me the report so you can get your cranky ass outta here. Someone needs
a beer. And possibly to get laid.”

I scowled at him, but he was right. On both counts.

Report took an hour. We walked around to each of my ten patients’
rooms, and I gave him a rundown of what was happening as well as introduced
him to each of those patients. Not every doctor in the hospital wanted to do
hand-off rounds like this, but I thought it helped all of us to see the
patients as people instead of simply numbers on a screen. As such, I
insisted on it.

We only got caught up in one room and honestly, Mrs. Singleton loved to
talk.

“I thought I was taking the right dose, Dr. Benedict. I mean, I might
have missed my shot from time to time, but I usually manage better than
this.” She smiled up at me from her bed. She was always pleasant. And
always called me Dr. Benedict. “Maybe if you explain it to me
again?” She looked like she was hoping we’d sit down and go over
her medication with her again, but didn’t want to actually say
so.

“Maybe we should get you an insulin pump,” Phil said, not
looking up from his tablet as he pretended to review her chart. I knew he
was just giving himself an excuse not to engage. Mrs. Singleton had been
offered the same thing every single time she was admitted. She always
refused. Something Phil knew all too well.

“Oh, I couldn’t. It might give me too much. What would I do
then?”

“It won’t give you too much, Nanny.” Phil’s
irritation showed on his face and in his voice, but he never looked up from
his fucking tablet. “It’s programmed to give the exact amount we
order. You need to agree to this so you don’t have to be admitted so
much. You’re going to ruin your kidneys and your eyesight, among other
things.”

“I’m ninety-two, Dr. Davis. If my kidneys and my eyesight were
going to go, they’d have done so already. Besides, I know I’m
not long for this world.” She sounded like she was going to cry. It
made me want to beat the shit outta my colleague.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,”
I said, sitting beside the bed and taking Mrs. Singleton’s hand. One
thing I tried to always do was be respectful to my patients. Just because
she was old didn’t mean she was stupid. “We’ve discussed
this before. If you want to keep taking shots instead of using an insulin
pump, you can. But, he’s right that you’re hurting your body.
I’d like to have long conversations with you for years to come.”
I gave her a gentle smile.

She patted my hand with her free one. “You’re a good man, Dr.
Benedict.” Then she sighed, looking resigned. “If you think
it’s best, I’ll agree to your pump. Do you promise it will be
OK?”

“I do, ma’am. I’ll even come check on you after
you’re released until you get used to it.”

Her eyes grew wide. “You’d do that? For me?”

I smiled. “You’re one of my favorite patients, Mrs. Singleton.
Of course, I will.”

Mrs. Singleton was a diabetic who went into ketoacidosis once every couple
of months because she didn’t take her insulin correctly and refused to
modify her diet. At ninety-two years young, I figured if she wanted to eat
cupcakes and moon pies, that was her prerogative. My job wasn’t to
judge but to help her when she got sick. I’d often wondered if she
didn’t do this to herself on purpose to get some attention because her
daughter and grandson refused to put her in a nursing home but were never
around to take care of her. She’d been a social butterfly in her
younger years, by all accounts, and needed personal interaction. But, she
abided by her family’s wishes and stayed at home even if her daughter
and grandson were never there to help her.

After we left and started down the hall, Phil chuckled, as if he
hadn’t insulted and treated the elderly woman horribly. “I
swear, that woman gets chattier every time we have her.” He shook his
head. “I don’t have time to spend thirty minutes in her room
chatting about the weather or the good old days. Not to mention arguing with
her about her treatment.” Yeah. It was past time I either opened my
own practice or simply moved back to the clubhouse and disappeared from
polite society.

I gave Phil a hard look. “You know, if you had half as much sympathy
for Mrs. Singleton as you do that disrespectful punk of an intern, you might
be a decent doctor.”

I left Phil alone with Intern Iggy and the rest of the zoo and headed out.
I needed the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. Fuck this shit.
I’d keep my promise to Mrs. Singleton no matter what, but my days here
were numbered.

Coming back in to the doctor’s lounge, I went to the locker room and
changed out of my scrubs and lab coat. I left very little at the hospital
other than a couple changes of clothes for emergencies, so packing my stuff
wouldn’t be an issue. Tomorrow I’d bring my truck and clean out
my shit. Tonight, however, I was on my bike. I wasn’t prepared.

I strode out of the hospital, my boots thudding on the pavement as I made
my way toward my sleek black Harley V-Rod. The bike that would carry me away
from the sterile walls and white coats. I needed the freedom of the road and
the comfort of my club. Grim Road MC had been good to me. After my last
mission it had become my only real haven. Initially, working at the hospital
had fulfilled my need to help people, but it had become more cumbersome than
helpful now.

Flashes of the carnage I’d lived through shot through my brain and I
gritted my teeth through the pain, needing to keep myself under control. It
was those memories that haunted me at night and kept me coming back to the
hospital to work. I hadn’t been able to help the people from that day
so long ago, but I could help people in the here and now.

I started up my bike, put it in gear, and took off. I needed food and rest.
Tomorrow everything would be better. I’d get Mrs. Singleton to stick
to her promise to try the insulin pump. God knew Phil would just fuck things
up. Besides, I wanted to help her get home so I’d know where to come
to check on her and make sure she was using her pump correctly. I also
needed to put the fear of God into her daughter and grandson. I was pretty
sure they were trying to keep her out of a nursing home so they could keep
her Social Security check and that simply wasn’t going to
happen.

With a sigh, I pulled into the parking area of a little outside café
I often frequented after work. Helped me to wind down and catch my breath.
Occasionally I’d run into someone who knew me, but the hospital was in
Palm Beach so it wasn’t often. It was also the place where I’d
met the most interesting woman I’d ever encountered.

Her name was Cecilia, but she went by CeCe. I thought she was an escort,
but the jury was still out. She was here nearly every evening. I found I
simply liked talking to her. She was intelligent, with a quirky personality.
She could carry on a conversation about almost anything with some degree of
knowledge. But it was her eyes that intrigued me. She had the look of
someone who’d seen far more than a person of her years should have. I
doubt she was much out of her teens, but she seemed to take in everything
around her. Several times I’d tested her. Dropping observations about
things around us or small details about someone walking down the sidewalk.
She always knew the answers. Like me, she always chose a table that let her
have the best view of the area with her back against the building.

Walking to my usual table, I glanced around, looking for CeCe. Because of
the long conversation with Mrs. Singleton, I was a little late so I could
have missed her. I hoped not because I could really use her refreshing
personality. The girl really was a rare treasure. I thought about prying
into her life, finding out exactly what she did and who she worked for,
seeing if my suspicions were correct, but we had a comfortable relationship.
Basically, we spoke when we were at this café, and that was it. I
didn’t see her anywhere else. We didn’t talk about anything
personal. Sometimes we never even looked at each other. Just… talked.
About everything and nothing. Nonsense. Whatever was on our minds. I was
about to leave when I saw her.

CeCe was dressed in a tight, short red skirt with a white billowy top that
cinched around her middle above her waist. A black bustier pushed her
breasts up and together, giving her mouth-watering cleavage. Her hair was a
straight, gleaming mass dark as a raven’s wing reaching below her
waist. This was her usual attire and I’d learned a couple of months
ago to live with the hard-on I got seeing her in these outfits.

She sat along the brick wall of the building beside the café, as
usual, one table between us. We didn’t acknowledge each other or
speak. She simply caught the attention of Teddy. He owned the place and was
always there, even if he had someone else working.

“The usual, Teddy.”

“Chocolate pie and a coffee coming up, darlin’.”

“Thanks.” Everything inside me settled. I hid my smile and said
nothing. Instead, I picked up a book I’d been reading the last several
days while I drank a cup of coffee and ate a sandwich. This evening it was
chicken salad.

“You still reading about the guy who kills that old lady and then
spends the whole book freaking out about it? Raskolnikov,
right?”

I grinned. “Crime and Punishment. Yeah, kid.” I didn’t
look up from my book, but I never did. It was a game we played, where we
pretended indifference. It was one we were both comfortable with. “I
always found him to be an interesting character — tormented by his own
guilt. Unable to escape the consequences of his actions.”

She snorted. “It’s always something, I guess. Life torments us
all in one way or another.”

I thought about that. “Can’t say you’re wrong
there.”

“‘Course, I’m not wrong.” She sounded bitter. Not
for the first time, I wondered if I was right and she was an escort. She was
always very well put together. Even the revealing clothing she wore was done
with taste. Her hair was always perfect, her makeup just so. Her body was
well toned, fine muscle playing beneath her skin when she moved. I’d
never seen such perfectly formed arms on a woman before. They were muscled
but sleek. Feminine.

With one last bite of pie, she slapped a couple bills down on the table and
stood. She started to leave, then stopped and turned her head to face me.
“You think Raskolnikov would’ve done any better if he’d
had someone? You know, someone who had his back?”

“Who knows?” I shrugged. A darkness crept into her gaze even
though her face was carefully blank. This, I didn’t like. “But I
do believe there are times when the ends do justify the means. Maybe not in
Raskolnikov’s case, but…”

“Yeah.” She looked away, putting her shoulders back.
“Sure.”

“See you tomorrow?” I’d never pushed her before. Never
asked when I’d see her or if she’d be back. But my instinct was
screaming at me that something was wrong.

She shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe.”

“Take it easy, CeCe.” I forced myself to let it go even though
I wanted to push even harder, to make her tell me what was going on and how
I could help. Because if ever there was a woman who needed help, it was
CeCe.

About the Author

Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double
life as an erotic romance author by evening and a semi-domesticated
housewife by day. Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes
pleasure in spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited,
vulnerable heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a
blissful ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her
writings are speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning
delight entwined with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying
conclusions that elicit a sigh from her readers.

Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband
with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for
preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts
(which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with
Marteeka’s latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her
website. Don’t forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you
with a potpourri of Teeka’s beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph
events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.

 

Contact Links

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

Author on Facebook

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

Pre-Order Today

 

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Bretisms Virtual Book Tour

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Adopted, Borrowed and Modified Philosophies For a Life with LESS ANXIETY
and MORE CONFIDENCE

 

Nonfiction / Self-Help

Date Published: January 29, 2024

Publisher: MindStir Media

 

This book contains a collection of sayings, thoughts, and life lessons that
have helped to reduce my level of stress and anxiety while building
confidence in myself and others. Some are mine, and others I have heard and
adopted either as is or marginally tailored to become mine over the years. I
repeat these sayings to myself and others almost daily. By reading these
healthy reminders on a daily basis you will come to realize a healthier
outlook on life, find others treat you with more kindness and respect all
while building confidence in yourself and your abilities.

 

Bretisms tablet

EXCERPT

Preface

This book contains a collection of sayings, thoughts, and life lessons that have come in handy throughout my life. Some are mine, and others I have heard and adopted either as is or marginally tailored to become mine over the years. I repeat these sayings to myself and others almost daily. 

As time passed, my family, friends, and colleagues came to refer to them as “Bretisms.” Often, people experience life-changing “ah-ha” moments; other times, they have a good laugh. Regardless of how they are initially received, in time, I have heard back from people umpteen times about how these expressions have impacted them, changing their outlook on life and happiness altogether. I am even referred to (usually in a fun, sarcastic tone) as Yoda, Confucius, or a contemporary philosopher. I accept those designations with an open heart.

Although I am a long way from being done with living, life for me up to this point has been a fantastic journey. My parents raised my older brother and sister and me with the love and compassion I can only hope I’m imparting to my own children. We moved around the country often during my childhood because of my father’s profession. As a result, I had the privilege of being acquainted with and befriending many people of different cultures, races, religions, and creeds. My father was a professional football coach, but he humbly began his career as a middle school English teacher.

He worked his way up to the pinnacle of his career as an NFL coach and executive, with the support of his loving wife and extended family. We moved around frequently, and it exposed me to many great leaders, inspirational figures, and unique characters who have shaped my life view. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without these great influences.

My brother went on to follow in my father’s footsteps and has spent over twenty-five years as an NFL coach. Through our relationship, I’ve had the privilege of meeting great people. A few examples would be Don Shula, Dick Vermeil, Bill Cower, Chip Kelly, Urban Meyer, Marty Schottenheimer, Bob Griese, Ron Jaworski, Vince Papale, Larry Csonka, and Ozzie Newsome, to name a few.

I took my own path. I began my career as a door-to-door salesman, selling frozen food for one hundred percent commission. If I wanted money, I decided early on that I’d better sell something; the idea of selling had always intrigued me. I quickly moved up to a manager’s role before I was given promotions to selling goods and eventually leading salespeople in their various jobs. I sold everything from commercial truck tires to heavy construction equipment to medical devices.

Rather than football, selling was somehow in my blood. I’ve had many professional roles, ranging from sales rep to president/CEO, and I’ve enjoyed all of them immensely. But to this day, when asked what I do for a living, I almost always respond, “I’m in sales,” regardless of my current title. It’s all the same thing to me. It’s of the utmost importance to me that I stay grounded and always feel like I’m at my starting point. It’s what drives me to forge ahead.

I understand that every reader is unique and learns in their own way. However, I’ve structured this book for the chapters to be read on any given day and in no particular order. Let the day’s Bretism sink in before moving to the next. I don’t recommend approaching this book like you’re binge-watching a series on Netflix. With that said, it’s your choice, of course.

My only objective is for you to feel more grounded and confident when you finish this book. I want you to experience more joy and passion in your daily life because that’s what life is for. I must say, though, that if you want to speak with a professional, please seek that help. The ideas expressed in this book are those of a life-experienced layperson.

I should note that all of the stories you’ll read herein are true. Also, the names have been changed for the sake of fairness.

Below is a poem my father wrote that we came across after his passing. We were sifting through his things and discovered a series of poems he had composed in a journal. It’s hard to imagine your parents as people separate from their parental role, but there will always be things we never knew about them. You’ll see. Before we get started with the first Bretism, I think this is a worthy read to get your mind in the right place before digging in.

“Untitled”

I have won many battles; I am a winner!

I have failed numerous times; But I am not a loser!

I have done for others; I am a friend!

I have disappointed others; yet they forgive!

I too have been wronged; I forgive!

I have been deceived; and remember!

I have loved; but only have one lover!

I am loved; and I cherish the thought!

~William C. Davis, 2016

 

About the Author

Bret Davis

Born in Youngstown Ohio, with stops throughout his life in Michigan, NJ,
Pennsylvania, Kentucky, Florida, Ohio (again) Georgia and Texas. Bret Davis
is a born salesman. With the love of his wife of twenty-eight years, Kelly,
and their two sons, Blake and Connor, he has achieved his dreams and more.
Starting from a door-to-door salesman, he has worked his way up to
executive-level positions with multiple companies in the medical field.
Throughout his trials and experiences in the sales industry, Bret has come
to understand people and that the way we all work holds a unique value.
Today, he and his family reside in Houston, Texas.

Contact Links

Website

Purchase Link

Amazon

 

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