Free Kindle Downloads

FREE KINDLE DOWNLOADS Grab these quickly ~ they are limited time offers! Some of these books have been available for awhile and could expire unexpectedly. Check to be sure they're free before you click 'download'.

Saturday, December 31, 2005


After recently poking around on some other blog that was talking about nail polish, I realized I've never shared my first pedicure story. I'm sure you're all dying to know how it went.

This fall I decided to go in and get a pedicure. I love to wear sandals and have always wanted a French Pedicure. It took me a few months to get up the nerve. So I go in. I'm greeted by someone I can't understand. To this day I don't know what she asked me. I just pointed to my feet. She takes me over to sit in one of their chairs. For anyone who's not had a pedicure, the base of the chair has a basin for them to wash your feet. How humbling, I might add. Anyway, I sit down, she turns on the chair and walks away. Ah. It feels like someone is running small cans of corn into my back.

It's getting faster and faster. Now I'm barely sitting on the seat. My behind is hovering over the basin and the little Vietnamese woman is pointing at me and saying something. I know she's probably saying "look at that fool woman" So this man comes over. I'm assuming Vietnamese. He's cute. I'm feeling a little modest and not so sure I want a man taking care of me. I realize he has no interest in even speaking to me so we'll be fine. Might I add that it's hard not to feel disgusting as he literally shaves the dead skin from my heels. Blah. I thought I had a crummy job. I would like to buy that tool he used though.

Finally, the chair is starting to slow down, I'm feeling less like Lucy Ricardo, life is good. I feel cold lotion hitting my bare legs. I'm wearing capri's. I sit up. "No, no, no!" He looks up at me. Frightened. "I'm sorry, the only man that rubs my legs is my husband." He's confused. Not sure what to do. Now I forgot to tell you that another man is massaging my hands. He's a small man. Very feminine. He laughs. "Let him do it. He like." He's cracking up. The lady that had me sit down in the executioners chair is looking at me. Her eyes narrow. The man at my feet is sitting there. He just gets up and walks away. Not even bothering to wipe off the lotion. Okay, it's at this point that I realize I'm way to high maintenance for any kind of girly relaxation.

I can't lay in a tanning bed. It bores me. I will never have a body massage, remember my modesty issues. A day at the spa is definitely out. Sigh. No, I guess I'm just a paint my own toes kinda girl.

Thursday, December 29, 2005


You know that saying "Behind every good man is a woman" I think the same could be said about a good writer. Now I'm not saying I'm a good writer. Heck, before last week I hardly considered myself a writer. Anyway, I have been fortunate in my journey to have the help of a few good women. I thought it would be nice to thank them right here in front of the tens of people who might see. =)

I had a story. It was a good concept. Now how do you start writing. I knew nothing. Absolutely nothing. I did have the good fortune to have Colleen Coble as my young married SS teacher. (I know) This was before Colleen was published and I got to witness a little bit of her struggle. I used to lean over and whisper to my husband. "If she gets published, maybe I can" Okay, so I'm not very realistic. Anyway, I kept watching her put out one book after another and finally had the nerve to send her something I was working on. She was very kind, but told me to keep working.

I kept working. Little by little. I didn't feel like I was making much progress. Colleen told me to join ACFW. Maybe if I got a crit partner I'd progress a little. So I did. I joined a Mentor group knowing that I needed mentoring. Jennifer Tiszai was to be my new mentor along with writing buddy Malia Spencer. Jennifer has guided us in every aspect of writing. She's helped with formatting, chapter spacing, plotting and character development. Reading her current work, Witness, has given me a new measure to judge my own writing. It's a well written romantic suspense. I can only hope when I grow up, I can write like Jen. =)

Malia is an English major. She's so good at picking up on all my grammar problems. That's a big job. Believe me. She writes College Lit. It's unique, funny and a little sarcastic. That really appeals to me. I love sarcasm. I can honestly say that the three of us have become friends. I am eagerly awaiting the day one of my friends has their book published. It's coming, I'm sure of it.

I finished the rough draft of my first book a week or two ago. It was a very good feeling. Now I just need to rewrite all that crap that I wrote. I've just started a new lit book titled Rock Bottom. I'm enjoying this story much better. I think in this learning process I'm learning to be true to who I am. I'm not Colleen Coble or Jennifer Tiszai. I may never write a great romantic suspense. I will definitely never write a great college lit. I will write something, and it will definitely be better for having been critiqued by these ladies.

A published author, awesome mentor, English major student, and the support of a great writing community. Am I blessed or what?

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Are you a writer? No. Well kinda.

Hi my name is Sabrina Fox. Some of my ACFW friends know me as Sabrina Butcher. While I'm sure there are only four people in the world that have any interest in hearing me ramble, I'm going to give this blogging thing a shot.

If you write you're a writer. Period. Words spoken by Karen Ball at the 2005 ACFW writers' conference in Nashville. Karen said that one of her pet peeves is when someone asks if you're a writer and she hears "Who me? No. I mean I write, but I'm not published." I had to laugh. Not an hour earlier I had a staff member of the hotel ask me this question. I think my answer was something like "Oh no. Well kinda. But I'm not published."

Why as writers do we need publication to validate our writing? My Grandma Bonnie used to write poetry and then later she wrote her life story. I asked my grandma once if she ever tried to get published. She told me that she didn't have time for such things. She was the mother of nine children (can you even imagine) she worked outside the home once the kids were older. I'm sure she didn't have time for such things.

She wrote for the fun of it. To have a creative outlet. Seeing her words on paper brought her joy. Why can't I be that content? Why do I feel like I need to have someone tell me my words are golden and need to be published before I feel like an actual writer? I don't know the answer to that question, but I've come to realize that even if I never get published I'll always write. Editorials, church bulletins, love notes to my husband. Anything. Why? It's simple. I'll write because I'm a writer. It's what I do.

If I don't post before next week have a very Merry Christmas!