Tuesday, December 25, 2012

What is Life?

On this holiday that celebrates Life, I would like to share these magnificent words spoken by Mother Teresa:

“Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.

Life is beauty, admire it.

Life is bliss, taste it.

Life is a dream, realize it.

Life is a challenge, meet it.

Life is a duty, complete it.

Life is a game, play it.

Life is a promise, fulfill it.

Life is sorrow, overcome it.

Life is a song, sing it.

Life is a struggle, accept it.

Life is a tragedy, confront it.

Life is an adventure, dare it.

Life is luck, make it.

Life is too precious, do not destroy it.

Life is life, fight for it.”

Image of Mother Teresa from Bio.com

Friday, December 21, 2012

A Gay Christmas Story by Valentino DeMitri

I have to confess that I have a huge crush on Santa; I’ve always had a thing for older men. Working for his organization is a family thing. My mother still works for him. My father did too, before he deserted us shortly after I was born to run off with an elf with pointier ears than Mom. Last I heard, he had a gig acting in The Hobbit. No word on what became of Miss Pointy Ears, except rumor has it she dumped him for an elf from Lord of the Rings.

The weeks before Christmas are always wild and crazy in Santa’s workshop, and sightings of him are fleeting. However, today I am suddenly aware of The Man himself standing behind my chair, watching me work.

“Gah!” I say when I look up into his jolly face. I always considered his demeanor to be so—dare I say it?—gay.

Santa stroked his beard and looked down at my GI Joe. I could smell the scent of peppermint on his breath. For a moment, I got a whiff of mistletoe and frantically looked up, hoping someone had helpfully hung a sprig right above us. 

“The sparkling pink pasties glued over his nipples are an interesting touch,” he finally said.

I held up my GI Joe masterpiece, pride washing through me. “Well, initially, they would be hidden by his uniform.”

Santa stroked his beard—such a sensuous caress—and nodded. “Ah, I see. Don’t ask, don’t tell.”


He looked me in the eye. Me! I felt the tips of my pointy ears grow hot. Then he glanced down at my name tag. “Spock, is it?”

“My mother was a Trekker.”

“Clever name.”

It was the first time I hadn’t been teased about it, which caused me to fall even deeper in love than before...if such a thing were possible.

Santa looked thoughtful for a few, timeless moments before he asked, “Are you romantically involved with someone right now?”

What? I shook my head to clear my brain. What did he ask me?

He grinned. “Great. Why don’t you come over to my place for dinner tonight?”

“Gah!” was my eloquent reply.

Omigod. Dinner with Santa!

He slapped me on the back, a hearty—but assuredly intimate—gesture. “See you at six, my boy.”

Twinkle, the pretty elf who worked next to me, stared at Santa as he walked away. “Seriously?” she asked. “Dinner with The Man? None of us ever get invited to have dinner with him.”

To boldly go where no elf has gone before.

*          *          *

As I knocked on the door to his house, I pushed the multitude of questions out of my mind. The big one that had been bothering me all day was: what about Mrs. Claus? Had Santa sent her off to test drive the reindeer? I struggled with the moral dilemma of having dinner with a married man. What would my mother say? What if Santa wanted to kiss me? Should I play hard to get? Would he think me easy if I planted myself under any and all mistletoe I could locate? As waves of angst coursed through me, Mrs. Claus swung open the door and greeted me with a toothy smile.

“Hello, Spock! So glad you could join us this evening.”


In a daze, I stumbled inside their warm cabin and melted into a soft chair near the roaring fireplace.

“Would you like some hot cider, dear?” Mrs. Claus asked.

Mutely, I nodded.

Santa’s hearty laugh snapped me out of my stupor, and I jumped to my feet. Walking into the room at his side was another, younger man. Not as soft and cuddly as Santa, he was nevertheless handsome. And he was bald, just like Jean Luc Picard. A sigh escaped me. I liked bald men—the look was so...dare I say...phallic?

Santa introduced him. “Spock, this is my baby brother, Sven. He’s visiting from Sweden where he works on the Norwegian Nobel Peace Prize Committee.”

I took note of the smart military uniform Sven wore. “You serve in one of the armed services?” I managed to somehow ask, proud of myself for being able to finally master a complete sentence.

Sven grinned and gave me a coy wink. “No, but my brother told me how much you like men in uniform.”

He flexed his muscles, a button flew from his shirt, and I caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a...no...could it possibly be? A pink pastie!

I swooned as visions of sugar plum fairies danced in my head.

Note From Devin O'Branagan

Valentino DeMitri is the most popular character I have ever created, and critics labeled him "the best gay character in fiction." He woke me in the middle of the night recently and dictated this holiday story to me. We hope it made you laugh. If you would like to discover the beauty, wit, and charm of Val, please read The Red Hot Novels. You can learn more at www.RedHotNovel.com

Red Hot Property is available as an eBook and in print at Amazon

 Copyright © 2012 – Devin O’Branagan – All Rights Reserved

Valentino DeMitri

Wishing all our readers a joyful holiday season!

(Please note: All character representations on my blog and website are professional models.)

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

The Christmas Dance

I wrote this story as a holiday gift to my fans. It is a prequel to Show Dog Sings the Blues and The Red Hot Novels. The Christmas Dance is a touching tale that sheds light on the characters in those books, and speaks to what I believe is the true message of the season: Love is the greatest gift we can give one another.
Please enjoy The Christmas Dance:

My name is Talisman and I'm an Australian Shepherd. My person is Valentino DeMitri, and he's the heart of our family, our brilliant sun.

Peter, the man Val loved, was the moon reflecting Val's sun. He was gentle, shy, and fragile, so Val and I focused our energies on caring for him. Peter even inspired my latent maternal instincts. For some strange reason I always found comfort in licking his feet, probably because they were both left feet. At least that's what Val said. I figured it was some kind of human frailty and perhaps my sincere attention to them might remedy the situation.

The week before Christmas, Peter was killed by a drunk driver. Grief became a giant black hole that swallowed every bit of our light.

Val wouldn't get out of bed for days, so I crawled in next to him. My fur soaked up his tears, and my love absorbed a measure of his anguish. Humans came and went, bringing food and sympathy. However, at the end of the day it was just the two of us clinging to each other, wishing with all our combined might that we could change the unchangeable.

"Before Peter drove off I gave him a hard time about not being able to do the dance routine," Val told me with a shuddering sob. "God forgive me, that was the last thing I said to him."

Val and Peter had been preparing for a Christmas Eve recital at Cafe au Gay. Tap dance was a challenge for Peter.

"If only I had told him how much I loved him!"

I felt so helpless.

My stomach growled. Lost in grief, Val had forgotten to feed me. As I pondered my dilemma, I remembered that his mother, Margo, left a freshly baked cheesecake on the kitchen counter. I gently disentangled myself from Val's arms, jumped off the bed, and made my way down the hall into the kitchen. My toenails clacked on the tile floors, echoing in the tomblike silence.

Earlier, when Margo came over, she plugged in all the Christmas lights. Now that darkness had settled, the house was awash in a bath of brilliant colors. It reminded me of the stages on which I had seen Val and Peter perform. We had always been a show biz family. Margo taught theater arts, Val danced, Peter sang, and I had once won Best in Show at Westminster. I thought about how Val had always insisted that the show must go on. I was afraid he would forget how to do that now.

My nose led me straight to the cheesecake, perched enticingly within my reach. My hind legs steadied me while my front paws reached for the pie. Carefully, I pulled it to the edge of the counter and flipped it onto the floor where it landed with a fragrant splat. I dived into the sweet, creamy concoction with gusto.

"Why, Miss Talisman! Aren't you just a naughty little Talismanian devil?"
The familiar voice startled me. Peter? I swung around, and there he was. Peter wasn't the first ghost I'd seen, but I had never been so thrilled to see one before. Peter! I bounded over to him, and he knelt to greet me. I tried to press the top of my head into his chest, but his body was just a shimmer of light that I passed right through.

"Whoa, did you feel that?" Peter asked.

When we merged it had been warm and tingly, and a faint veil of sparks flew.

"Do it again," Peter said.

Carefully, I pressed the top of my head into the middle of him, and I was filled with his sweetness; he was sweeter than cheesecake.

"It's like we're inside each other," he said.

My Border Collie friend, Bippity Boppity Boo, has a person who is a medium. I once heard her say that psychics could sometimes body-share. Was that what was happening?

"I can't move on until I make things better for Val," Peter said. "Will you help me?"

*          *          *

We started slowly. Now Peter really did have two left feet, but he also had two right ones for balance. And he had me to help; I was famous for being a wonderful dancer.

Time seemed to stand still while we struggled to synchronize ourselves. I closed my eyes and surrendered to Peter while he took over and showed me the dance steps. Then I exerted myself and coordinated the movements to include my two extra limbs. We encouraged each other, conquered our doubt, and when the flow of time returned, we were tap dancing our shared hearts out. The clickety-clack of my toenails on the tile sounded like tap dance shoes.

Val appeared at the kitchen door. "Tali?"

"It's show time," Peter whispered to me.

Together, we performed a flawless four-legged version of the dance Peter had been trying to learn for the Christmas recital. We finished with flourish and took a well-deserved bow.

Val gasped. "Omigod...Peter?"

We dance-shuffled over to Val and sat down at his feet. We reached out to him with my front paw; he grasped it and fell to his knees.

We leaned forward and blew into Val's left ear, just like sweet Peter had always done.

Val was breathless when he said what he had longed to say. "I'll always love you."

We nuzzled Val's neck, and Peter gave him a gentle kiss goodbye.

*          *          *

Copyright © 2011 - Devin O'Branagan - All Rights Reserved

Author’s Note

My Australian Shepherd, Kolbe, died two days after Christmas. For a week following her passing, my other Aussie, Jazz, morphed into a startling replica of her. Kolbe’s expressions, mannerisms, and unique behaviors were all mirrored by Jazz. I was in such a state of grief that I didn’t immediately notice the transformation. It was my veterinarian who pointed it out to me. She said, “They’re body-sharing. I’ve seen it before. It won’t last long, but it will help them both with the transition.” A week later, Jazz was Jazz again. It was the first time I had ever heard of such a thing, but the experience was undeniable. It helped to teach me that life is full of great mystery and wonder, and it inspired this story. I hope it touched your heart.

“Love is stronger than death.” – Preacher Levi,  Red Hot Liberty

To learn more about The Red Hot Novels, please visit www.RedHotNovels.com

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Method Writing and Crazy Novelists

In twenty years of being a professional author I’ve had a lot of strange adventures and created a bunch of crazy characters. The riskiest part of what I do as a novelist is to practice “method writing.” As in “method acting,” I “become” my characters so they come across as realistic. No wonder I am a neurotic mess.

I’ve been the Antichrist, a female version of the second coming of Christ, witches, demons, angels, vampires, drag queens, Cher impersonators, tin-foil-hat-wearing conspiracy theorists, and dogs...a whole hell of a lot of dogs. Oddly, I do dogs best. Go figure.

In my paranormal thriller, THRESHOLD, I was a tween boy who drowns, has a near-death experience, and returns with a mission. First off, I must mention boys that age sure think about sex a lot, don’t they? It was hard to get past all Cole’s lustful yearning to stay on track and save the world. Besides Cole’s compulsive desire for a hot sixteen-year-old redhead named April, he’s also a die-hard Trekkie. So, of course he sees the after-death tunnel of light as a wormhole, and the divine guide on the other side as the omnipotent Q from the Star Trek franchise. He ponders profound Star Trek episodes in order to work out metaphysical dilemmas. (Thank goodness I had a ten-year-old Trekker on Twitter to consult with about such divine matters.) And Cole sits at the bar of the Desperado Saloon waxing philosophic by the hour, pausing every once in a while to tell the barkeep to, “Hit me again.” Bartender Saul stifles his amusement as he tops off Cole’s frosty mug of root beer.

I really enjoyed being Cole, especially since he ends up being the most heroic character I ever created. My own earliest fantasies involved saving the world and because of my writing I’ve been a superhero more times than I could have ever imagined. I love my job.

However, I also love being a dog. I really, really do. Perhaps this is something I should discuss in detail with the veterinarian, um, psychiatrist on my next visit.

*          *          *

Read the first chapter of THRESHOLD here: http://www.devinwrites.com/bookexcerpts/thresholdchapterone.html

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THRESHOLD is available in both print and as an eBook. Find links to where it may be purchased here: http://www.devinwrites.com/threshold.html

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Thursday, July 26, 2012

Pretty Sacrifices

Wow, it has been an exciting month since my new novel, PRETTY SACRIFICES, was released! In the first week, PRETTY SACRIFICES hit Amazon's bestseller list. Reviews have been wonderful:

"Thrilling, emotional, mysterious, amazing!"

"Devin O'Branagan's best book yet!"

"Imagination at its best!"

"A great and stirring tale!"

"An adventure with depth!"

"Terrific follow-up to GLORY!"

PRETTY SACRIFICES is the second book in The Legend of Glory trilogy. In the post-apocalyptic world following a pandemic, dark angels arrive in Glory's small hometown to claim the eternal souls of her loved ones. Targeted by evil because of her heroism during the great plague, Glory fights back with the help of gutsy young witch Kaia, inexperienced guardian angel Sasha, and her intrepid demon-fighting dog Hallelujah. Complicating everything, a rift in time reunites Glory with an old flame and forces her to pay a huge price for love.

I had more fun writing this novel than any that have come before. A plot-driven writer, I worked from a tightly constructed outline, but my characters kept changing directions on me. There were three huge plot twists I totally wasn't expecting, and this sort of thing has never, ever happened to me before. I fought it at first, but then surrendered to the characters and am so glad I did. My fan mail indicates that my readers are glad I did too!

All of the fascinating characters introduced in GLORY return in PRETTY SACRIFICES: seventeen-year-old Glory and her feisty dog Hallelujah, the witches of the Moonstone and Starlight covens, a family of angels, a family of vampires, and the amazing Goth Girls gang of vamps-with-attitude. New, colorful characters abound, including the precious four-year-old Belle Starr and a mysterious physics professor who may hold the key to Glory's ties to the 19th Century. Linking them all, the demoness Nyx returns with vengeance in mind.

GLORY was nominated by the American Library Association for their Best Young Adult Paperbacks List of 2011. PRETTY SACRIFICES is a thrilling continuation of that tale. The third book in the trilogy, GENESIS, will be released in 2013.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

God Created Me For You

In my comic mystery novel, RED HOT LIBERTY, there is a humorous subplot about two blue merle Australian Shepherds whose love is forbidden. Talisman is a fictional character based on my own Aussie. Her forbidden lover, Chance, is also based on a real dog. 2006 Crufts Best In Show – BISS MBIS AKC/ASCA Ch Caitland Isle Take A Chance AX AXJ RS-E JS-E GS-E STDs TDI* “Chance” was the first Australian Shepherd to win Best In Show at Crufts, the largest and most prestigious international dog show. Chance was more than a superstar. The Chance-man touched so many lives, and none so profoundly as that of his person—Nancy Resetar. Chance passed away on March 4.

I dreamt of Chance and woke up before dawn to write this eulogy. I would like to believe it is a message from Chance to Nancy:

* * *

God created me—for you.
A shooting star you wished upon,
I fell to Earth to make your dreams come true.

All I did, I did for you.
Person of my heart—I gave my heart to you.

I was brave—your knight in shining armor
because in your light I reflected your brilliant love
back to you.

You were my star.

Two hearts transformed by love transform the world and together we did that.
You called me Chance, but our life together was destined.

I am now a bright comet—a tail of light
showing my glory to the universe.
Reach up, grasp that tail, and never let go.

New adventures await us—another place another time.
A love like ours never dies.

Copyright © 2012 by Devin O’Branagan

Photo of Chance by Tom Weigand of The Winning Image. Courtesy of Nancy Resetar.

To learn more about Chance, visit his website HERE.
To learn more about RED HOT LIBERTY, visit HERE.

Chances titles and awards are as follows:

*2006 Crufts Best In Show – BISS MBIS AKC/ASCA Ch Caitland Isle Take A Chance AX AXJ RS-E JS-E GS-E STDs TDI
Best in Specialty Show
Multiple Best in Show
American Kennel Club
Australian Club of America
Agility Excellent (AKC)
Agility Excellent Jumpers (AKC)
Regular Standard Elite (ASCA agility)
Jumpers Standard Elite (ASCA)
Gamblers Standard Elite (ASCA)
Started Trial Dog – sheep (ASCA)
Therapy Dog International (certification for hospital visits)

RIP Chance-man...

Wednesday, February 8, 2012


In my urban fantasy, GLORY, the blood of the seventeen-year-old heroine, Glory, contains the cure for a deadly pandemic plague. A witch named Kaia, an angel named Dominic, and a vampire named Zane are assigned to be her bodyguards. In the midst of their quest to save humanity, Glory is overcome by desire for Zane. Then, in her words:

     I wondered if he was sharing this intense electromagnetic current with me. At the same time that all of these thoughts and feelings were flooding me, I experienced a dreadful sense of shame that I could have selfish interests at a time of such horror in the world. I glanced across the table and saw Dominic watching me.
     “Yearning preceded creation, caused creation, and sustains it,” Dominic said. “It’s what holds the atoms together. Yearning is nothing to be ashamed of.”

My novels run the gamut from young adult urban fantasy, to comic chick lit, paranormal romance, canine chick lit, and paranormal thrillers. The one constant in all the worlds I create is desire.

It is indeed what holds the atoms together.

In my paranormal chick lit romance novel, RED HOT LIBERTY, Molly becomes the leader of a band of rebel patriots. Mata Hari-style, she must seduce her former lover, Jake, into helping them:

     Molly stepped out of her car and froze. She had wanted to kiss him again for so long and now it was her sacred mission as leader of the rebellion. The prospect was both thrilling and terrifying. Jake took a few steps toward her and stopped as if he sensed her storm clouds. She knew his emotions were also a tempest because lightning crossed the expanse between them, jumping from cloud to cloud, and the strike practically knocked her to the ground. She used the car to steady herself as rolling thunder rocked her world.
     Their eyes locked, and she was lost.
     He came to her slowly, intently. His fingers drew her hand to his mouth and his soft breath sighed into her palm. He bent to bury his face in her hair, and she closed her eyes, inhaling his familiar scent of leather and pipe tobacco. Every cell in her body seemed to respond to the memory, long-buried embers exploding in flame.
He looked at her, and his fingers traced the contours of her face.
     “I can’t breathe,” she managed to say.
     “I’ll be your breath,” he whispered.
     He leaned into her, the length of his body pressing hers back against the car. His expression was tender as their lips came together and their tongues, former dance partners, remembered familiar steps.
     He breathed life back into her once again, as he had with that first kiss so long ago. Their connection drew forces from the center of the earth, and she felt incredibly alive.

Yearning holds the atoms together.

In my paranormal thriller, THRESHOLD, a seventeen-year-old cowgirl named Leah discovers the fire in her belly isn’t for boys:

     “Any particular boy you’re hot for?” Nita asked.
     Leah shook her head. “That’s the problem, I guess. Just not been in love yet.”
     “Never felt fire in your belly for anyone?”
     Leah stopped walking Dixie and stroked the horse’s face, certain that her own face reflected the same shade of red. When it came to the land of sex, Leah had always been a foreigner unable to speak the language or navigate the terrain.
     Nita stood, walked to them, and offered Dixie a handful of hay. The horse nibbled cautiously at first, and then with greater interest.
     Relief blew through Leah. “Her stomach’s okay. She’s going to be fine.”
     Nita stepped closer to Leah. When Leah turned to look at her, Nita grabbed her by the hair at the back of her head, pulled her face close, and drew her lips to her own. Startled, Leah tried to resist the unexpected, but weakened as Nita’s kiss stole her breath. Like Dixie, she discovered her appetite, and it grew by the moment. Hungry, she devoured the food Nita offered. Thunder filled her blood. A rumble escaped her throat. Limbs trembled in the wild wind.
     Nita pulled back and slipped her hand into Leah’s waistband, hot palm against bare skin. Lightning struck with such force that Leah staggered.
     “Now you’ve discovered fire in the belly,” Nita whispered. “Figure out what to do with it.”
     When Nita strode out of the barn, Leah stood like a young tree in a fierce storm, its tender roots desperately clinging to hold on to a turbulent new world.

Yearning holds the atoms together.

One of the most colorful of all my characters is a gorgeous show dog named Talisman who appears in RED HOT PROPERTY, RED HOT LIBERTY, and SHOW DOG SINGS THE BLUES. She is in a forbidden, star-crossed romance with another show dog named Chance. She visits him whenever possible:

     In a wanton display of canine coquettishness, Talisman danced for Chance. She dipped low in a coy play bow and then bounced up and butt-slammed him. In response, Chance smiled and twisted his body into a U-shape and wiggled toward her. She chirped and trilled, and he chattered his teeth. Talisman stared at him with a wild gleam in her eyes, batting her eyelashes in a decidedly come-hither manner. Chance smacked his lips and nuzzled her ear. Both shook their tailless bottoms shamelessly. It was a tragic tale of tailless tragedy.

Yearning holds the atoms together...

Visit my website and discover my novels so that you may become more intimate with these passionate characters: www.DevinWrites.com

Copyright © 2012 by Devin O’Branagan

I would love to hear your thoughts! 
Please join me on TwitterFacebook, or my own discussion forum.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Put Down the Witch and Slowly Step Away From the Demon

The novel I am currently writing is the sequel to my urban fantasy, GLORY, titled PRETTY SACRIFICES. It's filled with all manner of beings: angels, witches, vampires, and demons. The past few days I've been working on a scene where the teenage witch, Kaia, confronts a demoness. The scene has been very intense, and as my readers will attest, my characters are always vivid and realistic.

Last night I had a dream wherein I got up from bed and went down to my kitchen. I found Kaia and a young man standing at the kitchen counter, deep in conversation. The man seemed ordinary enough: dark eyes, a bit on the short side and, as Kaia would say, "really cute." However, when I looked him in the eyes, there was something so evil about his intense stare that my mind said, "He's a real demon and this isn't just a dream." True terror filled me.

Now, even though I've been writing supernatural fiction since I was five years old (at which time I wrote a ghost story), woo hoo things just don't usually happen to me. (Okay, so I did see my dog a few times after her death, I had a near-death experience, and my intuition is stunningly accurate, but never before has a demon stood in my kitchen.) My life is petty mundane.

However, my dream became what is known as lucid, I instantly grew aware of the fact I was dreaming, and I knew in my soul that this cute young man standing in my kitchen was some sort of malevolent being. Perhaps my research for the novel had attracted unwanted attention from the dark side. I had been speaking with experts in the field of demonology and reading everything I could get my hands on regarding the subject.

Not sure if Kaia was just a dream character or another real spirit of some kind masquerading as my mental image of Kaia, my maternal instincts kicked in and I scooted her back away from the demon, then willed myself to wake up. Immediately, I found myself in my bed, but unable to awaken. Using force of will, I tried to fight my way to consciousness and open my eyes. The bed started shaking and I clutched the side of it so I wouldn't fall off, but I couldn't hold on and I crashed to the floor...which did succeed in awakening me.

Honestly, in the next few seconds this is what happened:

I thought about going for my gun, but even if it had silver bullets, the demon wouldn't be susceptible.

I thought of calling the police, but what the hell would I say?

The very next thought...I swear...was, "Oh, this would make a great blog post!" (Writers are a special breed, and a little scary in their own right.)

So, I said a prayer for protection, stood up, dusted myself off, and with great fear and trepidation walked though my house turning on every light. Then I made myself a strong cup of coffee, sat down at my computer, and began to write this blog. As I did, the laptop acted possessed: the screen winked on and off, and the program froze several times. Sometimes the pesky Internet Demons of Doom do mess with me, so I convinced myself that they were the ones wreaking havoc and, despite my trembling fingers, typed away.

Now, I am relatively sane. I realize this could have all just been a manifestation resulting from the imaginary demons I've been creating, but my intuition told me it was something else. Did I mention my intuition is stunningly accurate?!

Of course I will continue to write my novel, and I will publish this post and risk ridicule. In my novels, good always overcomes evil. I dedicated GLORY "To all those who fight the good fight against evil." Perhaps by not letting this incident get the better of me, I'm doing just that.

"A fantasy on the shoulders of a strong willed girl, Glory is not to be missed." - Midwest Book Review

GLORY was nominated for the 2011 Best Popular Paperback for Young Adults List, sponsored by the Young Adult Library Services Association (YALSA) of the American Library Association.

Seventeen-year-old Glory Templeton's blood holds the cure for a deadly pandemic-plague and she embarks on a quest to save humanity. When evil forces conspire to stop her, three supernatural beings are assigned to be her guardians. Forbidden love, ancient secret societies, mysterious astronomical monuments, witches, angels, vampires, and demons all contribute to the high adventure that tests the character of this remarkable young woman.  The legend of Glory begins!

I would love to hear your thoughts! 
Please join me on Twitter, Facebook, or my own discussion forum.