buy this book!

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My friend, A.E. Rought has a new book out….so go buy it.

You can buy the paperback here

or

You can buy the e-book here

Look at this hot cover. Now, go buy the book.

ISBN: 1-59998-103-3
Cover art by Anne Cain

She controls the Elements, but he controls her heart.

Book One of The Chronicles of Nuermar.

Nuermar’s history is whittled in ruins, its prophecy carved in stone. Maelis, child of the Prophecies, is the last of her kind — a green-eyed witch, and the only one whom the stones of Nuermar say can channel the Elements. She alone has the power to vanquish the evil that reigns over her land. But without the greatest element of all, she has no hope of winning such an impossible battle.

A turncoat-assassin holds the key to her ultimate triumph. Yet the destruction of her village and the brutal slaughter of Maelis’ family lies on Joran’s hands. Can she overcome her hatred in order to fulfill the Prophecies and channel the ultimate Element – Love?

  1. “A.E. Rought delivers an exciting and intriguing fantasy tale which will capture the reader’s attention from the very first paragraph and refuse to let it loose. The world-building is excellent and the story left this reviewer eager for the return to this world with the next in the series! Caution to readers: there are some scenes of graphic violence.”

    — Annie, ECataromance

  2. “Nuermar’s Last Witch is a wondrously magical adventure in a battle against good and evil, A.E. Rought has created a fantasy world that opens the door to love and passion. Readers will be able to experience a world like no other filled with amazing creations that will leave them in awe.”

    — Anita, The Romance Studio

  3. “Nuermar’s Last Witch blends second chances and forgiveness with a fantastic fantasy plot. Both Joran and Maelis are very complex characters, well drawn and multi-layered. It was a full read that was very fulfilling. I really rooted for Maelis’ emotional journey and her determination to save everyone. Due to the past emotional baggage of the characters, the romance plot was very fulfilling and I felt as if I’d been on a very full journey with the author. I’m very interested to read any upcoming books in this series.”

    — Cat, Two Lips Reviews

damn i’m tired

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Now I remember why I don’t clean on a regular basis–that’s some tiring shit.

Sad thing is, I’m only partly done. Dammit.

But my bedroom looks great if you don’t look in the closet. And my kitchen, dining room and office area are mostly spotless. But my living room is still a mess and I haven’t touched the boys’ rooms yet– Oh well. I did get a good start on things today. And I got to have beer. At noon. On a Wednesday.

Maybe Fishdog will finish it up for me this weekend. Wonder if I can get him to wear the French Maid outfit?

damn i’m tired

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2

Now I remember why I don’t clean on a regular basis–that’s some tiring shit.

Sad thing is, I’m only partly done. Dammit.

But my bedroom looks great if you don’t look in the closet. And my kitchen, dining room and office area are mostly spotless. But my living room is still a mess and I haven’t touched the boys’ rooms yet– Oh well. I did get a good start on things today. And I got to have beer. At noon. On a Wednesday.

Maybe Fishdog will finish it up for me this weekend. Wonder if I can get him to wear the French Maid outfit?

spring cleaning

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Today, Mel-O-Drama becomes Mel-O-Maid. Like my outfit?


It’s very rare that I get sick of the house. Seriously, as I explained before, I can ignore just about everything. Dishes in the sink, clothes on the floor, hairballs the size of goats…you name it, I’ve ignored it.

But, once or twice a year, the cleaning bug hits me. And today, I’m feverish with the need to clean. So, I’ve taken off work so I can whip the house into shape. It really is a 2-3 day job, but I’ll do what I can.

I have made myself a list (list making is also WAY out of character for me) and I am tackling that list one room at a time. When I complete a room, I will sit down for an hour and write (or write until my creativity dries up) and then I will clean another room.

One thing I’m really looking forward to is my beer. That’s right, I have beer to get me through the day. Haha. I get to drink beer while you sad little people have to wait until tonight. There’s a good chance I might be teetering by the time you actually get home to pop open your first bottle. Let me say it again, Haha. Yeah, I’m rubbing it in, it’s what I do.

I’m getting back to cleaning my dining room. My new BFF, Dyson, is providing fantastic company. He was worth every penny I dished out for him. I should pay for my friends more often…

spring cleaning

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1

Today, Mel-O-Drama becomes Mel-O-Maid. Like my outfit?


It’s very rare that I get sick of the house. Seriously, as I explained before, I can ignore just about everything. Dishes in the sink, clothes on the floor, hairballs the size of goats…you name it, I’ve ignored it.

But, once or twice a year, the cleaning bug hits me. And today, I’m feverish with the need to clean. So, I’ve taken off work so I can whip the house into shape. It really is a 2-3 day job, but I’ll do what I can.

I have made myself a list (list making is also WAY out of character for me) and I am tackling that list one room at a time. When I complete a room, I will sit down for an hour and write (or write until my creativity dries up) and then I will clean another room.

One thing I’m really looking forward to is my beer. That’s right, I have beer to get me through the day. Haha. I get to drink beer while you sad little people have to wait until tonight. There’s a good chance I might be teetering by the time you actually get home to pop open your first bottle. Let me say it again, Haha. Yeah, I’m rubbing it in, it’s what I do.

I’m getting back to cleaning my dining room. My new BFF, Dyson, is providing fantastic company. He was worth every penny I dished out for him. I should pay for my friends more often…

my rep and my weekend in tupelo

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Apparently, I’ve gotten myself a reputation. Not only am I so very domestic, but I can also out drink you while wearing my French Maid costume. I’m not even gonna tell ya what I can do with that feather duster…

So this past weekend was spent in Tupelo, MS for soccer District tournament. Now, I know some people aren’t big fans of Tupelo…(see question and answer #5) but I’m here to tell you there are worse places on earth. (Pine Bluff, AR comes to mind…)

There may be a few bad things you can say about Tupelo (as a whole, the city really is void of much character) but they have one thing in their favor–they love their soccer. And it was so nice to attend a well organized event with good parking, a nice concession area, nice restrooms, and plenty of soccer fields and places for fans.

We had an 8:00 a.m. game both mornings. (God, help me, but I had to be up at 5:00 both days…) On Saturday we arrived and the team started to warm up while we parents stood around drinking (slugging) our coffee and taking in our surroundings. We noticed three big Xs dividing the fan areas so we asked what they were for. Apparently, the fans for each team were to pick a side and stay there–to avoid any fights. They’ve had a history of out of control parents at District before and so they had field marshals posted at each field to make sure the rules were adheared to.

Um, fights? Over 9 year old soccer?

We laughed and rolled our eyes. Sheesh. Could you imagine being like that over 9 year old soccer? Some people just need help.

And then, on Sunday at our 8:00 a.m. game, I finally realized exactly why those Xs were there…and I had to stop myself from becoming one of those parents. (and probably becoming one of those jailbird parents…)

There was a Big Man with an accent (I think it was British, but I really couldn’t tell because of all the blood rushing in my ears) who did a lot of yelling at the other team from the sidelines. Enough yelling that I actually wondered if maybe he wasn’t the 2nd coach and just positioned on the fan side to help out. He was obnoxious, but mostly I could ignore him.

I pretty much drowned out his voice and just stuck to my own way of supporting–with generally positive cheers and the occasional, RUN! But nothing out of the ordinary. But when our coach questioned a call and wondered whether it was our ball or not, Mr. Big Man yelled “We’d like for you to keep playing for us, but really, it’s our ball this time.” I said something like “Nice. Very nice. I bet that made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

And I let it go, because I wasn’t gonna be THAT parent.

I wish I hadn’t. I found out later that he’d been yelling things like, “Don’t let that fat kid beat you.” “What a weak kick, how did your team make it to District?” Blah blah.

If I had heard that, I’d have gone for his throat. Probably it was a blessing that I’m so good at ignoring assholes and completely tuned him out. What is wrong with people? I’ll never understand the idiots of this world.

my rep and my weekend in tupelo

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3

Apparently, I’ve gotten myself a reputation. Not only am I so very domestic, but I can also out drink you while wearing my French Maid costume. I’m not even gonna tell ya what I can do with that feather duster…

So this past weekend was spent in Tupelo, MS for soccer District tournament. Now, I know some people aren’t big fans of Tupelo…(see question and answer #5) but I’m here to tell you there are worse places on earth. (Pine Bluff, AR comes to mind…)

There may be a few bad things you can say about Tupelo (as a whole, the city really is void of much character) but they have one thing in their favor–they love their soccer. And it was so nice to attend a well organized event with good parking, a nice concession area, nice restrooms, and plenty of soccer fields and places for fans.

We had an 8:00 a.m. game both mornings. (God, help me, but I had to be up at 5:00 both days…) On Saturday we arrived and the team started to warm up while we parents stood around drinking (slugging) our coffee and taking in our surroundings. We noticed three big Xs dividing the fan areas so we asked what they were for. Apparently, the fans for each team were to pick a side and stay there–to avoid any fights. They’ve had a history of out of control parents at District before and so they had field marshals posted at each field to make sure the rules were adheared to.

Um, fights? Over 9 year old soccer?

We laughed and rolled our eyes. Sheesh. Could you imagine being like that over 9 year old soccer? Some people just need help.

And then, on Sunday at our 8:00 a.m. game, I finally realized exactly why those Xs were there…and I had to stop myself from becoming one of those parents. (and probably becoming one of those jailbird parents…)

There was a Big Man with an accent (I think it was British, but I really couldn’t tell because of all the blood rushing in my ears) who did a lot of yelling at the other team from the sidelines. Enough yelling that I actually wondered if maybe he wasn’t the 2nd coach and just positioned on the fan side to help out. He was obnoxious, but mostly I could ignore him.

I pretty much drowned out his voice and just stuck to my own way of supporting–with generally positive cheers and the occasional, RUN! But nothing out of the ordinary. But when our coach questioned a call and wondered whether it was our ball or not, Mr. Big Man yelled “We’d like for you to keep playing for us, but really, it’s our ball this time.” I said something like “Nice. Very nice. I bet that made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

And I let it go, because I wasn’t gonna be THAT parent.

I wish I hadn’t. I found out later that he’d been yelling things like, “Don’t let that fat kid beat you.” “What a weak kick, how did your team make it to District?” Blah blah.

If I had heard that, I’d have gone for his throat. Probably it was a blessing that I’m so good at ignoring assholes and completely tuned him out. What is wrong with people? I’ll never understand the idiots of this world.

how very domestic, indeed.

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Main Entry: do·mes·tic
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French domestique, from Latin domesticus, from domus
1 a : living near or about human habitations b : TAME, DOMESTICATEDdomestic cat>
2 : of, relating to, or originating within a country and especially one’s own country
3 : of or relating to the household or the family
4 : devoted to home duties and pleasures domestic>
5 : INDIGENOUS
– do·mes·ti·cal·ly /-ti-k(&-)lE/ adverb

Anyone who knows me, knows I’m anything but domestic. Basically, the only way I can get myself to clean my house is to have people over. And even then, the company I’ve invited has to include folks I don’t know very well–because let’s face it, if you know me, then you know how I live.

I’ve determined that in a past life, I must’ve been a frat boy. I can leave dishes in the sink for days. I don’t even see the empty beer bottles and coke cans and pizza boxes strewn about the counter. And when I get undressed, I’ll throw the clothes in the hamper if I’m standing in front of it when I disrobe. Otherwise, they land where they land.

Motherhood has helped me overcome my domesticated issues somewhat. I’m better about the dishes…sorta. Actually, my theory is I usually cook so someone else can clean. And a few days later when nobody has picked up on my theory, I break down and unload and load the diswasher. (BTW–the dishwasher always has dishes in it…it’s just a cabinet that happens to clean.)

So, when Killer called me domesticated in the comments of my last post, I kinda took offense. Me? Domesticated? Hardly.

But, I think he might be onto something.

What has changed me, you ask?

My new Dyson DC17 Animal

Yes, a vacuum cleaner may have just changed my life.

First a little history. We have 2 dogs and 2 cats. All of them are hairy little bastards and shed constantly. Well, in the past 4 years, we’ve gone through 3 vacuums. Too much hair–not enough suction.

But not anymore thanks to this bad boy. That Dyson is my hero. As a matter of fact, my friend Andrea suggested that I name a hero in one of my books Dyson…consider it done.

This little monster works better than anything I’ve ever seen. My only complaint is that it’s a little difficult to learn how to put some of the pieces together, but then my rocket science degree didn’t cover brilliant vacuum design.

If ever you can’t find me…just look for me in the House of Dyson. I’ll be the one up front worshipping at its altar.

how very domestic, indeed.

Posted on by
12

Main Entry: do·mes·tic
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French domestique, from Latin domesticus, from domus
1 a : living near or about human habitations b : TAME, DOMESTICATEDdomestic cat>
2 : of, relating to, or originating within a country and especially one’s own country
3 : of or relating to the household or the family
4 : devoted to home duties and pleasures domestic>
5 : INDIGENOUS
– do·mes·ti·cal·ly /-ti-k(&-)lE/ adverb

Anyone who knows me, knows I’m anything but domestic. Basically, the only way I can get myself to clean my house is to have people over. And even then, the company I’ve invited has to include folks I don’t know very well–because let’s face it, if you know me, then you know how I live.

I’ve determined that in a past life, I must’ve been a frat boy. I can leave dishes in the sink for days. I don’t even see the empty beer bottles and coke cans and pizza boxes strewn about the counter. And when I get undressed, I’ll throw the clothes in the hamper if I’m standing in front of it when I disrobe. Otherwise, they land where they land.

Motherhood has helped me overcome my domesticated issues somewhat. I’m better about the dishes…sorta. Actually, my theory is I usually cook so someone else can clean. And a few days later when nobody has picked up on my theory, I break down and unload and load the diswasher. (BTW–the dishwasher always has dishes in it…it’s just a cabinet that happens to clean.)

So, when Killer called me domesticated in the comments of my last post, I kinda took offense. Me? Domesticated? Hardly.

But, I think he might be onto something.

What has changed me, you ask?

My new Dyson DC17 Animal

Yes, a vacuum cleaner may have just changed my life.

First a little history. We have 2 dogs and 2 cats. All of them are hairy little bastards and shed constantly. Well, in the past 4 years, we’ve gone through 3 vacuums. Too much hair–not enough suction.

But not anymore thanks to this bad boy. That Dyson is my hero. As a matter of fact, my friend Andrea suggested that I name a hero in one of my books Dyson…consider it done.

This little monster works better than anything I’ve ever seen. My only complaint is that it’s a little difficult to learn how to put some of the pieces together, but then my rocket science degree didn’t cover brilliant vacuum design.

If ever you can’t find me…just look for me in the House of Dyson. I’ll be the one up front worshipping at its altar.

finally…

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I was beginning to wonder if Blogger was ever gonna transfer me to the new blogger site. They finally did.

So, I redecorated. Whatcha think? I’m not sold on it yet, but I had fun playing with the colors.

Anyway, I’ll be away in Tupelo all weekend watching soccer. Lots and lots of soccer. District tournament is this weekend and both boys are playing. I’m also taking a book and some sunscreen. heh.

Last Friday, I met the Killerific Killer of Killer Rants!. I am working on a blog about that momentus occasion, but have been so busy this week, I just haven’t finished it.

I purchased myself two new toys this week:

a new phone: Samsung Blackjack

and a Dyson DC 17


Take note…this may be the last time ever I get excited about vaccumming. Will report back later…