Sunday, May 14, 2017

To All of You Who Are Motherly!

Happy Mother's Day to all of you who are motherly!

Mother's Day has always been an enigma to me and every year I am puzzled as to how to feel about this day. You see, my relationship with my own mother was strange and often estranged and so I can't relate to my friends who reminisce of loving and close relationships with their mothers.

Today a wise friend told me that on Mother's Day she takes the opportunity to thank everyone who has been motherly to her over the years and I am reminded of all the wonderful women who were there for me...especially my older sisters, my grandmother and my great grandmother.

And so, on this special day, Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out there and an especially happy day to all of you of you who are motherly. Anyone can be a mother, but it takes a big, generous, loving heart to be motherly. 💗

Thursday, May 11, 2017

Spirituality in a Teabag - Truth is Everything?

A little tongue in cheek to start your morning -  

Can One Get Spiritually From a Teabag? 

Apparently Yogi Teas thinks so, because everyday there is a message of enlightenment on the label of my teabag. Today's message is, "Truth is Everything," and we seem to be on a roll because yesterday's message was about "truth" as well. But it obviously didn't sink in, because that's all I remember.

Which brings me to the question, "What is Truth?" ...and can your "truth" be different than my "truth," and still be the truth. Obviously the politicians think so, but that's a topic for another blog.

But, getting back to Truth is Everything." Is it really? and if it is, why is it everything. I mean, is it the first thing you think about in the morning?

Do you say to yourself, "I'm going to tell the truth today?" Or is being truthful a goal for you?

Nah, I think for most of us, living a truthful life is just a given. I mean, aside from those little white lies we all tell once in a while. Right?

But, how can truth be everything?

What? Oh, wait...what? I'm mistaken?

Um, oh, yeah, you're right.... Oops! Um, the teabag reads, "Truth is Everlasting."

Oh. Well, that's a different story...

Which, um, brings me brings me back to my original question, can you get spirituality from a teabag? ...or maybe I just better stick with coffee.

Sunday, May 7, 2017

Still Mindful After All These Years...

Still Mindful After All These Years...

What is being mindful? For me, being mindful is being aware or being in-tune with the present, what I'm doing, how I feel and what's going on around me. It's taking time out of my busy life to just focus on me, not change me, not change my circumstances, but get off the busy treadmill of life, allow myself to relax and just take care of me, even if only for a few minutes. Sort of like a mental "stop and smell the roses" moment.

In 2012, I started practicing Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) to help me better focus on my writing. Then, in January of 2014, I increased my daily mindful awareness (or being mindful) by attending a Mind-Body Skills Group at my local VA clinic.

What do I get from being mindful? A sense of inner peace and well-being, clarity of mind, body and
purpose, and most of all, a feeling of oneness between my conscious, my subconscious and my body.

The Mindfulness Revolution

In 2014, Time magazine devotion an entire issue to the Mindfulness Revolution. Unfortunately I didn't get a chance to see that issue, but I found this link to the primary article online. 

I also found other articles branching off the Time website...entertaining articles you might want to check out:

How to Make Your Mind Happy, According to Neuroscience

5 Secrets to Making Your Mind Happy


Now, here's a few other informative links regarding Mindfulness and MBSR:

What is mindfulness meditation?

How will it being mindful help me? 

Do I have to meditate?

How do I meditate? 

I started meditating using the guided meditations I received from the VA. UCLA has free guided meditations available online (link below) that I have found to be just as good, if not better.

Guided Meditations

Free Mindfulness Apps

There are also many Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) classes out there and for first timers, they are often free. But check with the group before signing up!

I did find this link for a free online MBSR class based in Massachusetts. I have not "attended" this class, but as I strongly believe in MBSR, it's worth checking out...

Free Online MBSR class

I hope you've found this information helpful and maybe even a little inspiring. When I first heard about being mindful and mindfulness based meditation, I was skeptical. But I'm glad I took advantage of the opportunity to explore mindfulness. It really has improved my quality of life.

Still mindful after all these years... 😊 Thanks for reading!

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

An Ode to That First Cup

On the horizon, the sun breaks
Chasing the darkness of the night,

With sleepy minds and slow bodies
We stumble from our bed, hopeful
Yet searching, 

Where is that savoir to the sleep-starved,
Where is that first cup, that first sip
Where is that glorious elixir 
we call...

With each sip energy flows through
Our bodies, invigorating
our muddled minds, restoring 
thought, inspiring synapsis
and we become

We are ready to face that 
Which mere moments before 

Get out of my way, World, 
With this life-giving potion,

Thank you, Coffee 

Copyright 2017

Friday, April 28, 2017


UPDATE April 2017

New Cover - Same great magical suspense adventure!

 Available on Amazon

On April 22nd, 2016, my fantasy suspense novel, My Father's Magic, was published on  Amazon. Here is the original cover. Which do you like better? 

 Available on Amazon

...and here is my updated sneak peek  -



He took a sip of amber liquid, his eyes shifting once more to the report. I should have known, he scoffed. The warning signs were all there.

But as the words of a former mentor returned to haunt him, Drake Hermanus set the glass down on his leather-capped desk. After all these years, could the old wizard have been right? Could I really have been such a fool?


Shielding his thoughts, he looked across the dark expanse of his office at the young woman silhouetted by the hallway lights. My God, in this light she could be her mother. "Yes, Esme?"

"I was just about to go home. Do you need anything before I leave?"

Tell her, Drake. Tell her. "No. Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning."

She remained there, another second, two.

"Was there something else?" He grimaced as his words hung in the air.

"No. Goodnight, Father," she said and turned away.

Watching the door close, there was so much he wanted to say. But, as usual, the timing was wrong. With a sigh, Drake opened a hidden panel in the front of his desk and extracted a small brown envelope labeled, "Hermanus House."

After emptying its only content, a skeleton key, he wrote, "Highway 13 to FR 190, right on Hermanus Lane," on the front of the envelope. Then, replacing the key, he laid the envelope inside his center desk drawer.

His backup plan now in place, Drake removed several sheets of private stationary from a side drawer. It’s time, he decided. This can wait no longer.

* * *

The grandfather clock in the front hallway chimed two o'clock when Tom Delaney, dressed in a velvet bathrobe and corduroy slippers, led his friend into his study.

"How about a drink to warm you up?" he asked as he headed for the cherry hutch he used for a bar.

Drake sat down on the burgundy leather sofa and placed his briefcase on the coffee table in front of him. "No thanks, Tom. I’ll need a clear head tonight."

Stopping in mid stride, the middle-aged lawyer turned to face his friend of more than twenty years. "Drake, what the hell is going on?"

Drake allowed his briefcase to fall open. "What do you mean?"

In an effort to steady his hands, Tom picked up his pipe from a nearby ash tray and began stuffing it with tobacco. "First, you call me this late at night, something you haven’t done in what, eighteen years?"

Drake paled, but allowed his friend to continue. "Then you show up, frazzled, something you never are, and with a five o’clock shadow, again, something you would never allow," he paused to light his pipe. "So, tell me, Drake. What is going on?"

A pensive smile curved Drake’s full lips as he rubbed the coarse stubble on his chin. In answer, he pulled a folded paper from the inside pocket of his tailored suit jacket and laid it on the coffee table. "I think you need to read this."

Taking a seat in a leather armchair, Tom returned his pipe to the ashtray and read the paper. Seconds later, he handed it back. "You need to tell Esme."

Without pause, Drake slipped the paper back into his pocket. "You read the report, Tom. It’s pure speculation. Someday, I will retire leaving Esme and Geoff in charge. My planting unproven accusations inside her head would not make that any easier, for either of them."

His lips pressed together, Tom reclined in his chair. There were many arguments he could have given, but as he looked at his friend he knew it was pointless. "So, what are you going to do?"

Drake’s eyes took on their usual cold semblance of steel. "When I leave here, I will return to the office. I have it on good authority that my apprentice and future son-in-law will still be there."

Tom grew more uneasy; his pipe forgotten. "There’s nothing I can say to talk you out of this?"

"No, but there is something I need you to do." Drake removed a rectangular, wooden box from his briefcase and set it on the coffee table. "In the unlikely event of my death, I need you to give this to Esme. There are a few letters, a copy of my will, and some other things I want her to have. But this box and all it contains is for her eyes only."

 "Drake, this is foolishness." Tom said as he leaned forward. "If there's any possibility that Geoff could retaliate or harm you in anyway, you must tell Esme. You must warn her."

Drake smiled. "Tom, the boy is my apprentice. I will simply confront him. If I don’t like what he has to say, I will order him to resign and refrain from all contact with my daughter. Geoff is not foolish enough to cross me."

"And what if he does?"

"I’m a master sorcerer, Tom," Drake said as he leaned back against the sofa. "You worry too much. Now, if you're still offering that drink, I'll take it."

Chapter One


Breathe, Esme, breathe. I willed myself to calm down as I wrapped the blanket around me. "It's a dream. It's only a dream."

A quick glance at the bright numbers on my alarm clock, 5AM, he should be up by now.

I reached out telepathically, expecting one of two responses, both instantaneous. Either I’d hear my father’s voice, finding him awake and well into his day. Or I’d feel a wall, my father’s mental version of a "do not disturb" sign. Instead, I got nothing.

Nothing? What the heck? My telepathic connection with my father, something we shared genetically, had always been consistent. But now that connection was just a big, empty void.

As a wave of panic threatened the edges of my concentration, I reached out again. "Nothing?! No. That’s not possible."

I grabbed my cell phone from the nightstand and jumped up from my bed. With a deep, calming breath, I told the phone, "Call Father’s mobile.

"Please answer. Please, please answer," and pressed the phone harder against my ear.

As the call rang out and went to voice mail, I tried to think of a message, any message. But as I heard the loud beep, all I could say was, "Father, please call me."

Still holding my now-silent phone, I started pacing. I need to go over there. I need to check on him.

But still, I hesitated. What if I’m wrong? What if I go over there and he’s pissed because I interrupted his morning routine. No. There’s got to be another way. I continued my pacing.

Wait. What about Geoff? Maybe he knows... Calling my temperamental fiancé at five in the morning was not my idea of fun. But we were both business partners with my father, so maybe Geoff knew something I didn’t.

And my sense of intuition, one of the few things my father prided me on, told me to call him. So, braced for whatever nasty reaction Geoff might give, I told my phone, "Call Geoff’s mobile."

Three rings later I got, "Esme. I’m glad you called."

What? If it weren’t for my dream, that felt more like a nightmare, I would have died of shock. But priorities being priorities, "Geoff, I can’t reach Father. Do you know where he is?"

"Yes," he said as he lowered his voice. "I’m at the morgue. Your father had a heart attack."  Long sigh, "He’s dead, Esme. Drake is dead."

As his words registered, the first of many tears began to fall. "Please tell me I’m dreaming and that this is all part of a nightmare."

Silence, and then, "I’m sorry, Esme. For your sake, I wish I could."

* * *

According to the coroner, my father had died earlier that morning and according to Geoff, they had both been at work. I had thought to ask him for more details. Like why was my father, who seldom worked past midnight, pulling an overnighter?

But at that point, it didn’t matter. Father was dead and no amount of questions would bring him back. Apparently, even a master sorcerer can’t stop a heart attack.

Two days after his death, we had my father’s funeral during the morning. It all seemed so quick, so hurried. But I had asked Geoff to make the arrangements, so I had no right to complain. Besides, with my father gone, I was lucky to still have my fiancé.

That afternoon, I was on my way out of Cascadia, the large, sprawling city we all called home. "A much needed bit of time off," my now very-much-in-charge fiancé had called it. On some level I knew Geoff was getting me out of the way, but I didn’t care. One of my other gifts, my ability to read minds and emotions, was in complete overdrive.

In truth, I was a basket case. I was so drained from my father’s death that being able to block other people’s thoughts was impossible. As much as reading Geoff’s mind might have answered some of my questions, I was grateful that he had finally mastered the ability to keep me from reading him. At least I didn’t have to worry about his dark thoughts.

I needed some time alone and wandering around Hermanus Enterprises, the company my father started, and Geoff and I had inherited, wasn’t helping. So, after finding an old key labeled "Hermanus House," inside my father’s desk, I decided this unknown house bearing my father’s family name was as good a place as any to start.

But first, I needed to tell my mother that her husband was dead.

© 2016 Ingrid Foster

Thursday, April 27, 2017

My Interview with Amie Irene Winters

Originally posted on my website -

Our guest for today, Amie Irene Winters, author of bestselling novels, Strange Luck, and The Nightmare Birds.

Amie, congratulations on becoming an Amazon Bestseller! If you had one word of advice for struggling writers, what would it be?

Thank you! It was a long-time goal of mine and it feels very strange now that it’s finally happened.
Here’s my best advice for struggling authors:
  • Don’t ever give up writing! It’s okay to take breaks from your book. It’s normal to feel burned out. It’s normal to be upset if you get a rejection or bad review. The good news is that it does get easier with time and experience. At the end of the day the most important thing is focusing on your craft.
  • Don’t be afraid to experiment. Every author and book is unique, so one type of marketing technique might work for one author, but not another. It’s all trial and error. Just don’t get too caught up in the marketing and repeatedly changing things. Writing a stellar book should be your number one priority.

I was privileged to recently read Strange Luck, a fun, truly unique and original tale. What I found the most striking was the Darling shop for haunted "junk." There has to be a real-life story behind this idea. Please tell!

I’m so glad you enjoyed Strange Luck! Yes, there is a real-life story behind it. That being…I love to antique! My antiquing addiction started when I was a little girl and my parents would take me to garage sales and antique fairs. Oh, the wondrous things I would see and learn! Each object was a unique piece of history, and sometimes the story was more intriguing than the actual antique.
A lot of the antiques in the Strange Luck shop were inspired by real things I’ve seen or read about over the years. For example, the fortune-telling cricket is real! Well, sort of. Growing up, my parents had a little cricket statue in our living room. When I got older, I asked where it had come from and my mom told me it was given to her by my great grandma who said it would bring their home good luck. I always thought that was neat, so when it came time for me to live in a house of my own, my mom gave me the cricket. Since then, it's traveled across the country with me and it currently resides in my living room.

You can learn more about some of the peculiar antiques of Strange Luck here:

 Fascinating! Being a lover of owls, I especially like the owl clock.

I read in your bio that you have a Masters Degree in Environmental Leadership, my immediate thought was, wow, such a big step from that to writing. But as I think back at the magical adventure in Strange Luck, I have to ask, how did your background influence your writing?

Yes, it was certainly a leap, but the experience has definitely influenced my writing. They say to “write what you know”. Since I’m an outdoorsy girl, I found it easy for my protagonist to be one, too. Daisy’s a bit of a tomboy who loves hiking and camping. The trails she hikes and places she goes are based on some of my favorite real-life places in California.

With that in mind, do you ever write outside? And if so, do you have a favorite place to write?

Not really. I’ve found it difficult to find a good spot that isn’t distracting. I also primarily work on my laptop, so I’m always battling with the glare from the sun. Occasionally I’ll write ideas in my notebook outside, but that’s only during the beginning stages of drafting a book.

I believe you've written a sequel to Strange Luck, The Nightmare Birds. The description on your website looks enticing. What can you tell us about the book and where do you see your series going from here?

Yes. There are three books planned in the Strange Luck series. In Book I, Strange Luck, eighteen-year-old Daisy Darling uncovers a world built using stolen memories.  It is in this world that Daisy discovers that she possesses unexplainable and unique abilities that she uses to battle the dark forces at play.

Book II, The Nightmare Birds, flashes forward to Daisy at twenty-one-years-old and uncovers more of her strange abilities and how they tie in to her heritage. In the process, Daisy uncovers the truth about the mysterious Theater of Secrets - long thought a dark legend by many, but known as a frightening reality to those who truly know its powers.  As Daisy assumes her new role as ringleader, she not only discovers a surprising connection between herself and the previous ringleader, but also the haunting truth behind the theater’s limitless power.
I’m working on Book III, A Darling Secret, right now. It’s expected to be released in winter 2017. You can sign up for my newsletter here to be notified about new book releases and special promos.

Amie, thanks so much for joining us today. It was truly a pleasure, and best of luck with your writing. I look forward to reading The Nightmare Birds. Such an amazing cover!
And to my readers, thanks so much for joining us here on "Please Welcome!" Again, our guest today was Author Amie Irene Winters. Her books are available in both ebook and paperback format. Check out Strange Luck you'll be glad you did!
Our guest next time will be SJ Hermann, author of the Morium Trilogy and my personal favorite, Splintered Love. For more about me, Ingrid Foster, please visit my website, 
I'm also on Google+, Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, Tumblr, Pinterest, and Amazon .  

Sunday, October 11, 2015

A HOME FOR ROSE - A Dark Desert Tale

One of the things that attracted us to moving to the desert, was the lack of grass to mow. But, likewise, we also quickly noted that with no grass or ground cover, everything living or buried within the sandy earth was also easily revealed.

So, as we began our gardening adventures, we found things that the desert had long ago claimed. In my office, I have a lion and a small dragon. Both are made of brass and both were found buried in the crusted dirt around our home.

But when my husband presented me with the dragon, it occurred to me, "What if he found something that was actually best left buried?" What if the object he unearthed only appeared to be treasure, but was actually so much worse?

And so, in the tradition of creepy stories everywhere, I wrote my second dark desert tale, "A HOME FOR ROSE."

To All of You Who Are Motherly!

Happy Mother's Day to all of you who are motherly! Mother's Day has always been an enigma to me and every year I am puzzled as to...