ANY ONE KNOW HOW TO?

emoticons crying

Recenly on Face Book, a chart circulated stating which genre drew readers. It did not take an individual with and IQ of a billion when Romance took the top tier. The least read, Horror. Now the question becomes what happens if you are unable to write romance? That your interest is within one of the genres least read? What do you do?

DARKSIDE GIVEAWAY WINNER

congratulations

The giveaway conducted on Goodreads for a copy of my book, The Darkside, has officially ended and a winner selected by those who promoted the giveaway! The book will be on its way to them within the next day or two.

I want to take this moment to thank all who entered the contest, as it exceeded my expectations. Also, book sales rose, humbling me beyond words! It felt like Christmas in June. Once more, I extend a heartfelt thanks to all participating in the contest, and those who purchased of The Darkside.

L.M. David

THE DARKSIDE BY L.M. DAVID

Available on Smashwords in eBook format: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/715429

Also available on Amazon, in ebook and paperback: https://www.amazon.com/Darkside-L-M-David/dp/1546361014/ref=sr_1_4_twi_pap_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1495162643&sr=1-4&keywords=the+darkside

Also, if you are a member of Goodreads, I am conducting a Giveaway from May 24 through June 1. One copy of my book will be given away to the winner. Hope you join in.

https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/237621?utm_medium=api&utm_source=giveaway_widget

Darkside Final

REMEMBER THIS?

liberty

Does anyone know the Statue of Liberty Song? Well here it is.

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free;
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless,
Tempest-tossed to me
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame is the imprisoned lightning,
And her name, Mother of Exiles.
From her beacon-hand glows world-wide welcome;
Her mild eyes command the air-bridged harbor
That twin cities frame.
“Keep, Ancient Lands, your storied pomp!”
Cries she with silent lips.

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free;
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless,
Tempest-tossed to me
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!