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in my nearly seven decades
on this earth
i know some things to be true.
if there is a key to life
this is a goal that i aspire to,
i’m not always successful,
but with each slip
i affirm that i can do better;
i will do better.

i don’t have answers.
i don’t have solutions.
i don’t have resources.
what i offer is a safe haven
where YOU can come home.
i will ACCEPT you —
no questions asked,
no explanation expected,
nothing requested
in return.
i open my heart
to YOU.
Read about my friends here




Roman Holiday by Rebecca Branch


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My 5 Star Review
Having read the first two novels in this series I was most anxious to read A Roman Holiday: Third in the Art Historian Superhero series. I was not disappointed. This fast paced adventure had me captivated from start to finish. The characters of Max and Sally I was already familiar with. Ambrosia, the ever apologetic fembot, was a new revelation. I fell in love with her and her Superwoman powers. Since she had been recently constructed, everything was new to her, everything was a learning experience. Max and Sally were very compassionate teachers and Ambi was welcomed as one of their family.

Although time-travel, ancient wars and historical fiction are the vehicles of these novels, the theme is unconditional love. We grow with the characters and learn, with respect and acceptance: racial, gender, religious and sexual equality. Molly and Max are philanthropists. This, and the two previous books, are thoroughly engaging and leave one feeling good about the world.

Rebecca Branch is an acclaimed scholar familiar with guiding visitors around Rome. Join her and her characters in this fantastic adventure.

Book Description
This is the third book in the Art Historian Superhero series. In Summer of 71 you were introduced to Max DuPont, a young American who spends his summers in Rome, split between two continents and shared by divorced parents. That summer Max had the romance of his life and was introduced to the mysteries of women by Molly, the dream lover of any young man, a down on her luck actress and model ten years his elder. Theirs was a romance which defined who they were and who they were to become.
Seven years later, in my second novel, Great Caesar’s Ghost, Max found himself again in Rome, this time an adult, working on the curatorial staff of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Together with his father Edward, an American archaeologist, Max discovered a long lost treasure, the personal artifacts of Gaius Julius Caesar. Amongst the relics was a ring which had the ability, when worn by one of Caesar’s descendants, to transport the bearer to any time and place. Max started his journey to uncover the past and ultimately to visit with Caesar himself.

Waking from her near-death experience, having survived the sinking of the Titanic, Sarah Goldsmith (Sally) saves Max and accompanies him in his travels. Brilliant and resourceful, a Harvard educated art historian, she awakens from a frightening era of anti-Semitism to champion the fight against injustice, intolerance and barbarity in all its forms. A natural feminist, Sally finds her match in Max, and two lonely lives come together as one.

This third novel in the series takes the time travelers from the modern world to the ancient past. Travel with them to California in the year 2050 to gather together their team and to New York in 1980 where Max lives his current life. Visit Studio 54, the court of Theodoric the Ostrogoth in Rome in 494 AD, and be present at the epic battle of Alesia where Caesar battles the Gauls in 52 BC.

Ultimately a love story and also a tale of discovery and self-awareness, join Max as he sheds the loneliness he has endured since his teenage years and finds the girl of his dreams who travels at his side. Then be prepared to admit within your circle one of the strongest and most attractive characters I’ve written…Ambrosia, a combined product of Apple and Google, and the most capable heroine in this series.

These are all adult books. They are written for a mature audience, suffused with observations of history, art history, Roman culture, contemporary New York, and many other locations. They are also a story of attraction, commitment, discovery and self-awareness, loss of innocence, coming of age, love and lust. They are often erotic but always loving, respectful of both genders, upbeat and satisfying. Although adult themes abound, they do not dominate, and these books are romantic time-travel historical fiction first and erotic adventures second. Come along for the journey in this sequel to Great Caesar’s Ghost.
Author Biography
I am 49 years old, a wife and a mother of two young women. I live near New York City. I am an architect by trade but an art historian by education having attended UC Berkeley as an undergraduate and Columbia for post graduate degrees. My father was an American archaeologist and my mother an Italian Lady. I worked as an assistant to the curator of Greco Roman arts at the Metropolitan Museum before leaving to take on my profession for need of income which the art world did not provide.

I began writing on a dare by friends who have encouraged me for years as I am a good storyteller and an avid reader. My first novel was Summer of 71, a story of romance and discovery set in Rome, a city with which I am very familiar and a place where I lecture on Roman history, architecture and culture bi-annually. My second book is Great Caesar’s Ghost which continues the story with my hero Maximillian DuPont and is a time travel romance skirting time periods from the first century BC through the modern day. My third work is titled A Roman Holiday and continues the series and has just been released. There will be at least two more books beyond these in this series. I also write short stories and a collection of these will be released shortly. They are about motherhood, romance and office affairs and escapades.

Although placed in the adult, and sometimes erotic category, my work is far more about self-awareness, relationships, coming of age, loss of innocence, personal development, reclamation, the culture of Italy, art and architectural history, an examination of the passage of time, food, and humor. I write as an adult to an adult audience and do not bury physical relationships behind closed doors. But what I write is loving and respectful of both genders, light and upbeat, fulfilling and satisfying. No one gets hurt, no one degraded. You should walk away from each of my books with a smile and an increased knowledge of the western world, Rome’s influence, politics, the social revolution, religion, and the inimitable wonder of a loving relationship between a good man and woman.



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i don’t like
to say i’m a loner —
the label
has antisocial connotations
that cause me

it’s not that
i don’t like people
but, sometimes
they get under my skin.
i don’t mean to offend anybody
you haven’t done anything wrong,
you’re not inadequate,
or lacking in social skills

it’s just that
i live in my mind,
it’s not a big mind,
sometimes, two’s a crowd.
i’m not hiding anything,
i’m trying to figure things out —

i’m not too quick at that,
i have to mull things over,
imagine the consequences.
i decide not to do anything —
‘a rebel without a clue’ —
leave the ball in someone else’s court,
let them make the decision.

i’m not proud
of this attitude
but, it’s the only one i have
so, it’ll have to do,
until i find a replacement;
that’s not going to happen —
so live with it,
or leave me alone.


Read about my friends here


if we listen


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A wraith was writhing in the air,
its undulating shape so fair;
just like a woman slim and tall —
I followed with no fear at all.

She wafted, led me through the trees
under branches, upon my knees,
until I found myself quite lost —
my folly gained, but at what cost?

I sat upon a log and thought
of this misfortune I had wrought —
from the mist, to my surprise,
a female form materialized.

A lithesome beauty, to be sure,
approached me with a gaze so pure.
I sat transfixed, afraid to move
expecting that this shape would prove,

perhaps, to be a daylight dream,
evanescent, not what it seemed —
a vision that would fade from sight
as quickly as a beam of light.

Yet, she remained and held my hand,
explained, so I could understand —
the holy earth is our Mother,
the deer and trees are our brothers.

We all share a common root
though each produces different fruit.
Our Mother Earth gives birth to all —
the things that walk, fly, swim and crawl.

This planet here for us to use
to grow our crops, not to abuse.
Winds and rains and things that glisten
each have stories if we listen.

Image by Cher Lyn
Read about my friends here




Strangers (Once Again)


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i saw you
gazing at the frozen food.
i was reaching for a carton of eggs.
i thought you saw me.

i thought
perhaps, you’d turn
and smile
(i loved your smile).

i considered saying something
but, what could i say
that i hadn’t said
a thousand times before.

i remember
the first time I saw you
emerging naked from the sea,
water streaming from your hair —
Venus rising.

i was transfixed.
i am still transfixed.
our carts pass in the aisle
moving on to other places —
(once again).

Read about my friends here




timid eyes




timid eyes

from the forest

beckon, yet hold back,

wanting to love,

afraid to trust.


lithe body,

like a deer,

ready to spring

at the first sign

of danger.


delicate features

worthy of infinite contemplation,


ready to color

at the slightest provocation.

i want to coax her

from the forest,

show her

there is nothing to fear;

yet,  i know there is.


so, from a distance

i watch

the timid gentle creature.

all I can give her

is freedom.


Read about my friends here




First Kiss


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my first kiss
so long ago
(not yet in high school)
in the back seat
at a drive-in theatre.
I’ll remember ’till I die
my nervousness,
her perfume
(Tigress by Faberge)
her warmth,
angora sweater set
(pastel yellow —
no buttons
to hinder progress)
sweetness of her kiss.
She knew much more than I
about such things
another world
had opened to me
desire and heartache
go together —
there’s seldom one
without the other
but, would we want it
any other way?
would we want
a safe, yet loveless life
without the up
without the down?
or, take the ecstasy
and risk our hearts
being trampled
to the ground
Read about my friends here




Tennessee Honey


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Thoughts drift south,
Jack Daniel’s country
where the weather
suits my mood.

On a bar stool
I park my bones
Inhale the Jack, magnolia —
sweet, sweet surrender.

A woman alone
at a corner table —
darkest eyes,
brightest smile,
auburn hair
to her shoulders.

I think, Why not?.
Our eyes meet,
I saunter towards her
and know, from the look she gives,
she’s heard it all before.

“Ma’am, It would give me
the greatest pleasure
to buy you a drink
and share your table for a while.
If I can’t keep you smilin’
I promise,
I’ll take my conversation elsewhere.”

She said with the utmost
southern grace, charm
and hospitality,
“You’ve got ten minutes.
I don’t like to be disappointed.”

I fell into her raven pools,
somewhere, I got lost there.
I don’t know my way too well
around these parts
but, I’d swear she lured me
with some kind of mojo.

My eyes refused to look away
from ruby lips (so sensual)
as they spoke words of love
in a voice
of the sweetest, southern honey,

The evening passed,
holding hands across the table.
I was enthralled and enchanted.
Where it went from there
I refuse to say
(gentleman’s code of honor).

Such beauty
I have never known.
It keeps coming back
to haunt me.

My thoughts
were only passing through
but, in my dreams I see
the darkest eyes,
brightest smile,
hear her voice —
Tennessee honey.

Read about my friends here




New-Mown Hay (1962)


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In Memory is the scent of new-mown hay
wafted softly over moonlit, prairie fields.
Car radio music eased the tensions.
Fingers, hormones and pounding hearts collided.

CKOM radio’s “Hi-Fi Club” with
“Digger” Dave Palmer spinning the platters
blasted over empty high school stadiums,
riverbank parking lots and secluded fields.

No past or future. There was only present.
Only that one unforgettable moment
forever etched indelibly in Memory.
At the time, it seemed, a moment to die for.

Clumsy fingers fumbled with stubborn buttons.
Heaving breasts longed to be released at last.
Guilt, knowing that parents would be home waiting.
Excuses that begged for plausibility.

Many a romance was started or ended
to a favorite beat, harmony or chorus.
The first three bars still stimulate the passion
and bring the past thundering to the foreground.

Where are those unforgettable moments now?
Where are those raging hormones and pounding hearts?
I look back, over years of maturity
and long for the scent of fresh, damp, new-mown hay.

Read about my friends here






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I sit on a stool
at Woolworth’s lunch counter
staring into the swirls of my steaming coffee
served in a Buffalo China cup and saucer
edged with double green stripes
(I have no interest
in my coffee)

two stools down
is a young woman
with dark hair and doe eyes.
Her presence — electric.
She parts her ripe cherry lips
as she looks up from her book
and glances at the clock.
Five minutes left
before she leaves
for work.

She stretches
in her tight, white sweater
as she slides her arms
into the satin lined sleeves of her coat
previously draped
over the stool back.

She gazes
in my general direction
with no sign of encouragement.
I should be more assertive —
my coffee is cold —
maybe tomorrow…

Read about my friends here




Bluesman On the Corner

Originally posted on Drew Martin Writes:


Got an old, dusty 6-string

Walkin’ down the line

Whenever I break a string

I replace it with fishin’ twine

No one wants to pay

To hear my fractured rhyme

Might be livin’ low on life

But I ain’t doin’ time

Find me sittin’ on the corner

By the ol’ hotel

Watchin’ all the people pass

Hear the stories they have to tell

All I got’s my guitar

Always on the roam

Wherever I fall asleep

Is where I call my home

I drink and pick all night

Sittin’ in the park

For all the lonely junkies

Shootin’ up in the dark.

Copyright © Drew Martin 2015

View original



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i offer you

the hand of a friend

we’ll sip coffee

or southern sweet tea

listen to crickets


perhaps a possum

in the wood pile

we’ll close our eyes

to the relaxing rays

and smile

Read about my friends here




The Mourning Dove


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The silence of
the mourning dove,
more mournful
than her song.

She’s lost her mate,
her will to live,
yet time
still passes on.

Of days gone by,
she dreams her dreams,
when last she
heard him sing.

In widow’s weeds,
by empty nest,
a lonely dove
has lost her song.


Read about my friends here




Finding Reese by Imy Santiago




Imy Santiago


I love to read stories about loss, heartache and redemption so it didn’t shock me that I would end up writing stories revolving around those central themes. I write with my heart, using my life experiences and emotions to dictate the tone and path in which my fictional characters embark in my long list of stories. I believe in the power of friendship and to always remain hopeful because life is always full of pleasant surprises. If you were to ask me if I consider myself an author, I would tell you no, I am not. I’m just a girl who loves a good story that makes you ponder life choices and the darkness that envelopes a broken heart. My stories are about loss, friendship, love and hope.


Product Description


***Finding Reese. is book two in the SAFELIGHT series out of three. It is part of a continuous story line, therefore it cannot be read as a standalone. 94k words.***

Hope Breeds Life…

Sometimes destiny and fate have a weird way of reminding us of our inescapable vulnerability, but more importantly our inexorable humanity. Life is fleeting, and what little time we have left in this world, we must make do with what we have, and cherish those whom we love by our side.

Fresh back from the Jackson Reese Press Tour, sports journalist Catalina Pardo rushes back to British Columbia after receiving unexpected and distressing news. With the help of award winning photographer Stryder Martynus, Catalina is determined to prevent the news of tragedy and heartbreak from governing her life again.

Together they will embark on a new journey of introspection to overcome the ghosts and raw emotions of their pasts−on a long and unpredictable road full of complicated circumstances−to find healing, hope and salvation.

The smallest of gifts−like a friendship bracelet−have the power to save your life, and unlike fairy tales, happy endings are seldom guaranteed…

*Adult Contemporary Romance with Mature Content−Due to strong language and sexual content, this book is not suitable for readers under the age of eighteen.*

**Contains a special excerpt of We Met on a Train by Imy Santiago, releasing Fall 2015**


5 Stars: Imy Santiago Does it Again!

After reading Chasing Reese, Imy’s first book, I eagerly and patiently awaited Finding Reese, the sequel. I was not disappointed. Imy is a fantastic writer. Her mastery of dialog fleshes out these wonderfully flawed characters. The naturalness of their verbal responses to each other reminds me of my own friends. Indeed, these characters have become my friends. I’ve cheered their victories, cursed their jealousies, empathized with their insecurities — overall I took them into my heart. This was truly an emotional and satisfying read. I look forward to the final book in the trilogy.


Desperation Drive


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I’m just kicking stones, chasing loneliness — nothing much to do;
In my dusty hat and western boots — soles are worn clear through.
I’m leaving heartache, going nowhere fast, more dead than alive.
At daybreak, feet are pointing to, Desperation Drive.

When you’re down and out, in a hard luck place, no stars shine at night;
I’ve been looking down, such a long, long time, just can’t see the light.
Haven’t got a cent, haven’t got a friend, no will to survive;
That’s the reason why, I’m heading for, Desperation Drive.

There was a woman — vowed she loved me, caught the midnight train;
She took my money, left my broken heart, drowning in the rain.
Got to leave this town, have to hitch a ride, out on highway five;
If they ask me where, I’m going I’ll say to, Desperation Drive.

I miss that woman, she’s still in mind, the breeze whispers her name;
She’s mean and evil, but my lonely heart, wants her just the same.
On the waterfront, I check the bars and every lowdown dive;
If she’s not there, I’ll find a place on, Desperation Drive.


Read about my friends here






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i wander with you
even though i can’t see
your physical presence
you are with me
your laughter
your song
that gives my life
its meaning

still my muse
you take me places
i never would have dreamed
without your guidance
your patience
your love
still a mystery —
a mystery
that i love

Read about my friends here






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young man walking alone


I appear

to be walking alone

in my unreality

but, I’m listening

to your breathing

your whispers

your sighs


the scent

of your favorite perfume

(the one I love)

wafts on the breeze


with wood smoke


and pine


my mind

is focussed on memories

along barefoot trails

your hand in mine

our hearts

suspending time



Read about my friends here




Tales of the Dragonfly: Tamara Ferguson


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The dragonfly is believed to be a symbol of renewal after a time of great hardship.

Book I: In Tandem

Separated by circumstances fifteen years earlier, Jake Loughlin and Danielle Reardon are fatefully reunited at Dragonfly Pointe.

But the mysterious Dragonfly Pointe has a history of tragedy. An unsolved brutal assault and murder of a six-year old girl over twenty years before has remained unsolved.

A successful entrepreneur, Jake has hidden his status as a special investigator for the FBI. As owner of the Dragonfly Pointe Inn, Jake has returned to restore and renovate the abandoned property.

But, unofficially, he’s investigating the theory that a ring of human traffickers is operating in the area. With three to five kidnappings occurring at the end of each year, over the states of Michigan, Minnesota, and Wisconsin, Jake can trace a pattern going back as far as thirty-five years.

And there could be a connection to the death of the little girl at Dragonfly Pointe twenty-two years earlier.

Grieving after the death of her grandmother several months before, Danielle has finally returned to Crystal Rock. A former model and vocalist for a band, Danielle escaped her chaotic life as a celebrity when her boyfriend died of a drug overdose. After obtaining her horticulture degree, she opened a successful landscape business in New York.

When Jake and Danielle finally meet again, it’s magic.

But something odd is going on at Dragonfly Pointe.  Several times during the reconstruction process, a suspicious stranger is sighted in the area.  When a young girl is kidnapped from a nearby community, the FBI investigation becomes official, and Jake is put into action.

Then lovely, eighteen-year old, Lucy Callahan, is kidnapped. Granddaughter of the former police chief of Crystal Rock, Lucy is like a sister to Danielle.

When the FBI investigation leads back to Dragonfly Pointe, Danielle, herself, is put in danger.

Despite its tragic history, the beauty and power of the magic at Dragonfly Pointe enables new beginnings.  Suffering tremendous loss, or surviving abuse and tragedy, each character featured in the series will create their own new beginning, aided by the power of love.

Visit author page at Ferguson


My Five Star Review

Tales of the Dragonfly Book 1: In Tandem, enchanted and compelled me to continue reading. The writing is flawless. It was readily apparent why this book received two literary awards. They are well deserved. Tamara Ferguson describes the main characters and the other townspeople in a way that enfolds them to our hearts. We suffer their insecurities, cheer their victories and are consumed with fear when girls and women start disappearing from the surrounding communities.

Addictive and highly emotional, this book kept me totally entranced. When I read the last page, I couldn’t wait to start, Tales of the Dragonfly Book 2: In Flight, second of the Dragonfly trilogy. Bravo, Tammy Ferguson!


Read about my friends here:


Sweet Little Angel


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A tribute to B. B. (Blues Boy) King
Guitarist, Songwriter, Singer (1925–2015)
“King of the Blues”




Sweet little angel
your devil horns are showing through.
Sweet little angel
your devil horns are showing through.
I love you sweet baby,
all I ever want is you.

Sweet little angel
tell me your love is just for me
Sweet little angel
tell me your love is just for me
you know I need your lovin’
without it where’d I be?

Sweet little angel
spread your honeyed wings for me.
Sweet little angel
spread your honeyed wings for me.
You hold me tight baby
you’re the one to set me free

Sweet little angel
your devil horns are showing through.
Sweet little angel
your devil horns are showing through.
I love you sweet baby
don’t you ever leave me blue.

Read about my friends here




The Summer of ’71: $2.99 Download


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$2.99 Download 20 Five Star Reviews




Book Description

January 22, 2014
Nearly raped at her photo shoot in Milan, English actress/model Molly Moncrieff flees south only to lose her luggage, her clothes, and her remaining money upon her arrival in Rome. Desperate and alone, emotionally drained and at her wits end, knowing no one but a young, long-haired American she’d just met by a fountain late at night, she has no choice but to accept his kind offer of a place to sleep. Certain that she will have to perform to his advantage, remarkably, no advantage is taken, and she rests in the comfort of clean sheets and safety in the young man’s apartment…the rich and ancient villa of his mother, an Italian Contessa. Waking, she is swept away into his world of antiquity, art, literature, music, food and culture with a loving, sweet and innocent younger man.Somewhat frightened and intimidated by her at first; thinking her way out of his league, Maximillian DuPont’s attraction to her grows as he tours her through the ancient city. Son of an American archaeologist, cultured, polite, elegant, smart and free-spirited, his youthful outlook and positive take on life brings new hope and reclamation to his stunning guest. Desperate for salvation and in need of care and understanding, she uses her every physical attribute and sensual talent to attract and capture his attention, all the while unaware that it is he, with his intellect, and in his innocence, who is capturing her heart, mind and spirit. Set against a background of the ancient city, its art and monuments, piazzas and fountains…and the café society of the early 70’s, this summer romance comes to define who these two people are, and will be, as their lives are forever changed by the encounter. This book, the first in a series, takes the reader through a world of ancient architecture, art and history, all delivered through the eyes of an art historian. The romance is the story of her reclamation and his sexual awakening, taking place in Rome, Capri, Positano, Pompeii, Santa Marinella, the aircraft carrier USS America, and New York in the turbulent times of the cultural revolution of the early seventies. Famous people and many minor characters populate the book. There is a sub-story which takes place in the First Century BC in the city of Rome, capital of a new burgeoning empire, embroiled in civil war, and ruled by Julius Caesar. The characters here are Marcellus, Tribune of the Tenth Legion, and Alessandra, hostage princess of the Kingdom of Bithynia. Another story of love, personal growth and sexual awakening, this one guides the reader through the daily life of ancient Rome, breathing life into the ruins examined earlier in the narrative. The book is at all times romantic, often erotic, but also assumes an interest on the part of the reader in Rome today and in the ancient world. Travel the mysteries of the imperial city, the medieval streets, renaissance piazzas, and the minds of the two protagonists as they find comfort, companionship, love and lust in a world of wonder and social consciousness. You will walk away from this book with a detailed guide to the ancient city and museums, and stories you will not often find elsewhere.
My 5 Star Review
on March 28, 2015
Reviewing “Summer of ’71, by Rebecca Branch, is like writing an account of a gourmet banquet where each course tastes better than the one previous. This book is: travelog, history, historical fiction, memoir and mind-blowing erotic romance. The characters, Max and Molly, are both lovable and vulnerable. We experience events through both personalities. Molly, the stunning international fashion model, who has been used and abused, finds herself house guest of Max, the seventeen year old, shy in sexual experience. He is a historian who, over the summer, guides her through the birthplace of his Roman ancestors. The two grow to love and desire each other, but are hindered by past insecurities. Will this be simply a summer romance or will it develop into something more? The sex is uninhibited, but not unkind. Always there is choice, consent, respect and dignity. Always there is equality of gender, sexual preference, race and class. These are big issues and it takes a big book to deal with them. Superb, in every way, this book was written by a very skilled and intelligent author. I learned something on each fascinating page. I have already ordered Great Caesar’s Ghost: A Time Travel Romance (Art Historian Super Heroes Book 2).


Read about my friends here:




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and in all ways
you are beside me.
still the same
the jealous moon,
stars for wishing
and connecting
with invisible lines

the same
moon and stars
we observed
gazing skywards
from our bed of moss.
tasted of blackberries.
wings of dragonflies
our skin


Read about my friends here




$2.99 Download


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$2.99 download

Thoroughly satisfying read, just like good sex.


I have read Rebecca’s first book Summer of ’71 and gave it a 5-Star review on GoodReads and Amazon. The character of Max, from the first book, continues his adventures in Great Caesar’s Ghost, however the books are completely independent.

I haven’t read many books that involve time travel, but this one quickly dispelled my disbelief. In each time period the author gives a fascinating account of the era, in terms of dress, appliances, architecture, speech and morals. As in Summer of ’71 I learned something on every page. Rebecca has a unique and delightful manner of storytelling that gives the reader the feeling that she is a friend that they may converse with on an intimate level.

Be prepared for excitement, adventure, eroticism and thorough enjoyment as you read Great Caesar’s Ghost by Rebecca Branch. I rate this book 5 Stars. Her next Book Roman Holiday is expected to be released in July of this year.

For more information see my post at:


Read about my friends here:


Great Caesar’s Ghost by Rebecca Branch



From the Rebecca Branch Author Page on Amazon:

Thanks for taking a look at what’s going on in my world. I’ve finished my second book, titled Great Caesar’s Ghost. It is a romance novel about a time traveler wandering through the ages in Rome, New York, Boston and Paris. It reaches a high-point at the end and will be followed by a sequel which is scheduled for June, 2015. The next book is currently titled “A Roman Holiday”. Great Caesar’s Ghost is a continuation of the Summer of ’71 and Max DuPont is seven years older and the protagonist. Since there will now be four, and perhaps more books in the series, I’ve collectively named them the Art Historian Superhero Series.

If you’ve read any of my books, then you already know that they are romance stories with an abundance of historical and art historical flavor. They are often erotic, but the characters are genuine and in love, and the eroticism is not gratuitous, nor does it dominate the stories. Over a year ago I was challenged to write something as hot as 50 Shades of Grey and yet also appealing on an intellectual level to historians and art historians, as well as to anyone with a fascination with the city of Rome. I certainly hope my work is entertaining, but also expect that it will lead you to your own discovery of Rome, of history and art, and other cultural pursuits.


Great Caesar’s Ghost is a thoroughly satisfying read, just like good sex.  This is a feel-good erotic mystery that will leave you feeling refreshed and wholesome, not dirty and used. The difference between erotica and pornography is expressed well by

Leon Seltzer

Leon F. Seltzer, Ph.D.  in Psychology Today

…what in general separates the erotic from the pornographic is an attitude toward sex and human sexuality that can be inferred from looking (dare I use the word, “objectively”?) at the finished product. If the subjects are portrayed in a manner that focuses on their inner and outer radiance, their fleshy vitality, and the work itself seems to manifest a passionate and powerful affirmation of life and the pleasures of this world, then I think we’re talking erotic. If, however, the subjects seem reduced to so many body parts, if any beauty appears subordinate to the overriding purpose of arousal, if the sex depicted seems depersonalized, controlling, non-mutual, and devoid of fun or play (but rather seems about “getting down to business” and “getting off”)–and if the sex acts pictured contain not a hint of human caring or emotional connectedness to them–that, to me, would definitely secure the work’s place in the realm of pornography.


I have read Rebecca’s first book Summer of ’71 and gave it a 5-Star review on Goodreads and Amazon. The character of Max, from the first book, continues his adventures in Great Caesar’s Ghost, however the books are completely independent.

I haven’t read many books that involve time travel, but this one quickly dispelled my disbelief. In each time period the author gives a fascinating account of the era, in terms of dress, appliances, architecture, speech and morals. As in Summer of ’71 I learned something on every page. Rebecca has a unique and delightful manner of storytelling that gives the reader the feeling that she is a friend that they may converse with on an intimate level.

Be prepared for excitement, adventure, eroticism and thorough enjoyment as you read Great Caesar’s Ghost by Rebecca Branch. I rate this book 5 Stars. Her next Book Roman Holiday is expected to be released in July of this year.


behind an oak


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secret sighs,

silent whispers

on the southern breeze —

laced with lilac

and magnolia —

take me to a magic place

where love

is all around


nature’s presence

is everywhere


springtime symphonies.

perhaps, i’ll see,

peeking, from behind an oak,

your eyes of onyx

and raven hair




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our paddles  dip

silently into the black.

evening mist hovers

over the lake

as we glide near the shore.

otters playfully cruise nearby,

raccoons timidly drink,

deer watch



a camp fire

to ward off the chill

of the northern breeze.

time to cuddle close,

whisper secrets

even though

we’re alone


drifter’s moon


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let’s hit the road,

no need to pack.

we’ll take your car —

four bald tires

will get us there,

no thoughts to turning back


Where highway

hits horizon

the drifter’s moon

hangs high.

our gypsy hearts

and gypsy souls

keep us on the fly


the mirror

shows the city lights

fading without trace

we’ll sleep beneath the cedars.

you’ll wake

in my embrace


we’ll bathe

in woodland streams,

clamber rocky cliffs,

discover the mountain pool


from our dreams


no plans laid before us,

no thoughts to where we’ll stay.

with open hearts and open minds

we’ll find our only way




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backwoods trails
scrambling over logs
ducking branches
scratching arms

grouse and partridge
mad flapping wings…
quiet, still
for danger to pass

underbrush clears
leaves crunch
between tall stately trees
reaching forever

golden hawks circle
(they always do)
clouds drift slowly
magic descends

i think of places
from where we’ve come
and what it took to get here —
we are blessed


i dreamed


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i dreamed

of blackberry kisses

stars that traced my shoulder

landscapes explored

places remembered

eyes of onyx, raven hair

trails in the moonlight

nights without number

days without care


there is a place

and you are there

a dog, two cats

some chickens in the yard

a swing for rocking

to watch the sunrise

 share a little shiver —

hold each other tighter

to soothe the morning chill

a new life starts

with us



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