Hey everyone! Welcome to my first review for the Reading and Review Challenge, started by the wonderful Jessica Therrien. It’s a great opportunity for authors and reader/reviewers to connect. ReadRev

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I’ll be reviewing Woman on the Verge of Paradise, by popular and hysterically funny blogger Robyn Alana Engel.






MY RATING: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥/♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

4.5/5 HEARTS



She’s 4 feet, 8 inches of heartfelt ferocity, and nothing can stop this post-pubescent spitfire from claiming her fairytale–not jarring tragedy, not penile incompetence, not even the explosive demise of a new marriage. Not until Robyn finds her happily ever after…alone.


As soon as I read the beginning where Robyn states who the book is NOT intended for, I knew I was going to enjoy it. Martha Stewart? You’d have to read her blog to get it.

Ms. Engel writes about her life growing up in a popular middle class Jewish family where all the neighborhood kids loved to gather. She writes about suffering emotional abuse throughout her childhood, not understanding it for what it was at the time.

She shares with us her journey, as she stumbles along in life trying to find her place, and her prince charming. We’re treated to the kind of humor that only Robyn can dish out. Her dating escapades are truly ‘one for the books’. I found myself laughing out loud more than once trying to picture myself a fly on the wall on some of these ‘dates’.

Robyn writes openly and honestly about the good and bad events that have happened in her life. For as much as I laughed, there were also moments I was near tears. The loss of her mother from cancer had a huge impact; I know it well.

Included in the book are excerpts from diaries she’s kept over the years. This memoir is poignant, yet funny. We’re even treated to a bit of Jewish culture, tradition, and language – Okay, Bubushka? Cue: “I’m NOT your Russian Grandmother!” LOL!

If you have an aversion to profanity being used in the telling of one’s story, or are narrow-minded in your views of the world around you, this may not be the book for you. For anyone that can relate to a life of seeking love, acceptance, and to finally finding some peace – I say get it!

MY RATING: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥/♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

4.5/5 HEARTS

Check out Robyn’s book video trailer below.




EngelRThis 4 foot, 8 inch spitfire hails from California. She’s an author, a poet, and addicted to all things chocolate. Woman on the Verge of Paradise marks Robyn’s mission to shift literature away from the fairytale and towards self-love and respect –gently, humorously, and with a side of deep dark chocolate. Warning: If you don’t find the chocolate, that’s because Robyn already did.

Check out her blog: LIFE BY CHOCOLATE. If you don’t, you’ll be missing out on a good thing!



A Day With My Mommy-by Sophie

Hello everybody. I’m Sophie; Eva’s baby Sophie…or is it Lily? Lily Eva? Lilica? I get so confused. She tells people  they’re ‘pen names’. What are those, anyway? I don’t really care, so I guess it doesn’t matter. That’s not why I’m here. She can call herself twenty different names; she’s still Mommy to me.

I took her computer while she decided to do some things around the house because I needed to vent. Since Mommy does it all the time, I figure there’s some merit to it. I’ll pretend to know exactly what I’m doing because I’m a Lhasa Apso, after all, from Tibet you know. My ancestors were sentinel dogs for Buddhist monks way, way back in the day. Indoor dogs, of course. (We are the little breed, averaging 14-16 pounds by adulthood.) Our keen sense of hearing and distinct, larger-than-me bark would alert the monks of intruders. We left the real guarding of the outside of the monasteries to the big boys: the Tibetan Mastiffs. But again, I’m off my topic.

Mommy. I don’t know what I’m gonna do with her. I love her with all my heart. When she was sick in the hospital, the doctors and nurses  let me go and see her a couple of times. I’m grateful for that, and I’m sure Mommy is too, even though she doesn’t remember.  SophietoyWhen she has her bad days, I’m always there kissing her tears away, snuggling up next to her, and laying on her lap. Stuff like that. I even try being obedient. When she gives me commands, I listen. Sometimes. When she tells me to sit, I sit. Especially when she is holding treats in her hand… Sorry, I lost myself there for a minute.

On her good days though, I want her undivided attention. Is that too much to ask? What’s with the one-handed belly rubs while she’s working away on the computer? I should be getting ALL the attention. I mean, doesn’t she understand that I’m special? Ancient, even. Wikipedia says so! I used to guard Monks for cripes sakes! Not only that, but I AM the baby of the house. My sister, Mandy, is married and lives in NJ with her husband. She’s way old and human. She’s like twenty something in human years.

If she’s not typing away on her computer, she’s either reading an ebook on her Kindle or a real one. Then she goes writing stuff in her stupid notebook. I guess she likes to review what she reads. I dunno. She’s been taking classes and has been with her nose in the computer or notebook almost all the time. Even when she plays with me, it’s like she’s only half playing with me. She throws me my monkey while she’s on the computer and that’s how we play. It’s like she’s not even into it. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.

By Lilly M [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Even worse, it’s bad enough that this doctor, called a veterinarian, says that I have a sensitive stomach. Most of the time, I have to eat this stuff called Hills Science Diet for Sensitive Stomach so I don’t throw up as much. It’s good, don’t get me wrong; I do like it. She usually cheats with me on the weekend, allowing me a Cesar’s breakfast on Saturday and Sunday morning. Today I was supposed to have Steak and Eggs for breakfast; I had Sausage and Eggs instead.  What’s up with that? Focus, Mom.

Let me not get started with the groomers. My breed usually has very long hair, at least that’s what you will see in the dog shows when you see my breed. Mommy didn’t want me for show, so she keeps me in a ‘puppy cut’. I never liked going to the groomers and I hate that she still makes me go. She makes them clip my nails, my ear hairs and put stupid bows in when they’re done. The only reason I always forgive her, is because she always buys me extra treats and a toy on grooming day.

What really got me mad was Mommy’s blogger friend Karen Soutar’s cat misbehaves and then she comes and tells me “I guess I’m not the only one with a bad, bad baby.” Um, I’m sorry. What? She’s going to compare me to…CATS?!?! Personally, I don’t have anything against them since I’ve never met one personally, but I hear they’re pretty uppity, aloof, and conceited. I’m not any of those things.

I’m not trying to sound like a spoiled brat, but I need to find a better way to grab Mommy’s attention. Pee-ing outside the wee-wee pad hasn’t helped. It’s only annoyed her. Any suggestions?






What Do Bloggers Eat at a Meet & Greet ??

Hey guys! You have to, have to, have to, drop everything and check out my friend Stephanie’s blog, Once Upon Your Prime. She goes by the name, Little Miss Menopause… 😀 She just got nominated for a blogging award (a real one!! heehee) and will be going to a big to do soon. Her blog is hysterical. She graciously allowed me to re-blog one of her insanely funny posts.

Enjoy; when you’re done, make sure you follow her blog. She’ll have you pee-ing your pants all the time! Muah!

Once Upon Your Prime

Maybe they eat "Meet(and greet!)Balls? Maybe they eat “Meet(and greet!)Balls?

Seriously?  What was I thinking?  Registering for a huge Blogging Conference like BlogHer 2014?   I can’t converse with anyone verbally.  That’s why I became a writer in the first place.  And I don’t eat, I don’t sleep, I don’t talk, I don’t drink and I don’t dance. All I do is sit in front of a keyboard and type.

And the only reason I’m capable of that is because I’m protected by the online anonymity.  But that will be stripped away, too.  I’ll have to wear one of those “Hello!  I’m Little Miss Menopause!” name tags.  And then people will approach me.  And say, “Really?  You’re not so little.”  Or, “How can you be a Miss if you’re divorced?  Wouldn’t that make you a Ms?”  Or, “So are you having a hot flash right this minute or are you just nervous to meet me?”


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It’s SPOOKTOBERFEST guys!! Brought to you by Jackie Felger over at http://jackiefelger.blogspot.com and Dani Bertrand over at http://danibertrand.blogspot.com … Yes, the very same AWESOME duo that bring us the Express Yourself Weekly Meme. This is my very first ever entry into any kind of contest. Please be gentle.


Nuts Anyone?

“Listen up people,” Melinda said as everyone stood at the edge of the forest. “On Halloween, every year since he’s died, Chuckey’s soul finds his way back to this old cabin in these woods, before being dragged back to the Underworld, so stay close.”

“You mean the Chuckey killed by that pack of rabid mask wearing squirrels?” Tabby asked with a disbelieving look on her face.

“The one and only,” Mel replied, flicking dust off the front of her shirt.

Tabby replied, with a slow shake of her head. “I wonder what he does when his soul comes back…I know his best friend Ivana has wanted him to be at rest.”

Melinda nodded, “I have it from a very good source that Ivana went to some witch for help recently. Lowering her voice to just above a whisper, she added, “This witch lady concocted a magical potion for Ivana to drink that will send for Cerberus from the Gates of the Underworld.” An evil smile appeared. “The thing is, I have the potion now, and I have every intention of calling upon Cerberus. I will enslave him and make him my servant.”

“OK,” Tabby said, suddenly afraid, turning to the other three in the group, “Um, you got that? Stay quiet, hidden and I guess, listen to Melinda. “

Everyone followed Melinda through the forest, holding hands through the fog, down the path towards the cabin. Aside from the occasional crunch of leaves underfoot, not a sound was heard. Once they reached the cabin, Melinda pulled out the vial of ruby-red liquid and drank. She fell to her knees and uttered inaudible words as the others looked around in fear. They saw nothing, until all of a sudden, a thunderous flash from the ground erupted and before them stood. . .



“Owww! That hurt!” Melinda yelled, rubbing the top of her head while staring down at the ground in front of her. A large acorn.

Thwack! Another acorn to the middle of Melinda’s chest.

“Stop that! Who are you?! You’re not Cerberus! I didn’t summon you!” Melinda spat out the last words.

“Guess again. iiiit’s Chuckeeeey!!” he said, triumphantly throwing another acorn in Melinda’s direction. “You should reconsider whose items you’re going to steal. Ivana picked a wretched example of a witch. She couldn’t spell cast her way out of a paper bag. I know you were expecting Cerberus, but he’s occupied at the moment. Hades granted special approval for this extended trip. He found it amusing that you thought yourself powerful enough to enslave his faithful hound. You’re mine for the next three years.”

Thwack! One to the back.

“Later, Slave master!” yelled Tabby, as her and the others fell into fits of laughter seeing the spectacle before them.  Melinda ran as fast as her legs would carry her from the forest with Chuckey and his never-ending sack of acorns close behind.

 (495 words)