Friday, August 30, 2019

Brought to you today by the words "free" and "books", and by the number "2"

You know that moment when you realize no matter what you do, you're screwed?

I came out of my editing cave late yesterday afternoon only to realize that the 30th is mere hours away and I need to do something for my Paranormal Romantics blog—time to throw together something fast, and what’s better than FREE BOOKS?!

BUT, as if karma senses my panic, my internet was behaving badly all evening. It was pushing 11:00 p.m. my time when I finally admitted defeat. After all, no one wants free books, right?

Okay, okay! I'm kidding! Thankfully, this morning the internet is back and all of you get a shot at the free books I have for you.

First book is my short story, All of Me. It’s free through August 31, 2019, so hurry! (Note: The buy links weren't working at first, but they are now. Because of this, I've extended the free sale or All of Me through Mon. Sept. 2, 2019.)

(Universal Link)
(B&N, iTunes, Kobo)

Garrison "Gunner" Reed thought the Anferthian invasion of Earth was life-changing, but that was nothing compared to rescuing April Buroski from the invaders' slave ship. Now, he can't get the petite, honey-blonde woman out of his mind. But, April's pregnant with her deceased boyfriend's child, and there doesn't seem to be room in her life for another man.

April will never forget the man she lost in the invasion, her first love, Dave. Yet, when the chips are down, Garrison is there for her and her baby. The emotions stirring in her heart for the former Army colonel war with her feelings for Dave. Can she let go of the past and embrace her future before it's too late?

Second, my short story, Space Ranger, first appeared in the original Pets in Space anthology a few years ago. On September 24, 2019, it’ll make a reappearance as a solo act. However, why wait when my newsletter subscribers can already get it…for free?

Just sign up for my monthly newsletter and receive a complimentary copy of Space Ranger, now.

Graig Roble, Matiran Senior Security Commander for the Guardian Fleet, is an expert weapons specialist and combat master. Protecting others is what he was born to do. So why has his focus wavered since returning to duty aboard the Atlantis? All he can think about is the enticingly brilliant human woman he walked away from.
Simone Campbell uses her experience as a botanist to help Terr recover from the devastating Anferthian invasion. Yet she can’t seem to immerse herself deep enough in her work to expunge the memory of one blue-skinned hunk-of-an-alien. What is it about Graig that keeps pulling her attention, and her heart, away from her job?

One thing’s for sure, their bond runs deeper than either of them realized—but can Graig convince Simone of this before he loses the best thing that’s ever happened in his life?

See you on September 30th with a real blog...and a shorter blog title!

 <heads back to the editing cave>


USA Today Bestselling Author, Lea Kirk, loves to transport her readers to other worlds with her sci-fi romances. When she’s not busy writing about the blue and green aliens of her Prophecy series, or reading about dragons, she’s hanging out with her hubby, five kids (the nerd herd), and spoiled Dobie mix puppy.

She is currently working on two short stories and the fourth book in her series.

Thursday, August 29, 2019

Forever Wicked: Lily by @meganslayer #menage #romance #fantasy #erotic

2nd Ed. Lily (Forever Wicked) by Megan Slayer
Cover art: Marteeka Karland
Page Count: 44 (Novella)

John and Michael never forgot how much they cared about their sub, Tiger Lily. She's the one for them and they love playing with her. Now they're ready to offer her their collar. No more waiting, they're ready.

But is she?

Tiger Lily wants both her masters, but she's convinced they want a toy, not a full time sub. She decides to test them and makes them prove their devotion to her. It's a risky game of swapped control, but if things work out the way she plans, they'll all end up satisfied.

EXCERPT ©2017 Megan Slayer, All Rights Reserved

“Sit.” He turned on his heel. As Tiger Lily dropped to her knees on the floor, Peter shielded Wendy from her gaze. Something clinked and words were whispered between them. Shadows moved across the floor as Wendy left the room.
Moments passed and seemed like hours while Tiger Lily waited. She wished she’d kept her mouth shut and her aggravation to herself.
“Okay.” Footsteps padded on the floor beside her. Peter’s boots came into view and he squatted in front of her. “Michael and John will be here later. You’re going to have to be patient. I understand you’re hurting. They’ve been gone a while and played with another sub the last time they were here. I get it. But what happened is between the three of you. You’re going to have to tell them what you want. Change the contract, write up a new one, I don’t care, but leave me out of it.”
“Sir.” Tiger Lily couldn’t keep the pain out of her voice.
“I wanted you to choose me.” There. She’d said it. She loved Michael and John, but since they were younger she’d wished Peter would’ve chosen her over Wendy. Tiger Lily needed him. Didn’t she?
“Lily, my heart chose Wendy a long time ago. I’ve done things for her I never thought I’d do. I love Wendy.” He curled his fingers under her chin. “But John and Michael love you. They helped another Dom, yes, but they love you.”
“Then why don’t they tell me?” Tears streaked down her cheeks. She balled her fists. “I have no idea how they feel. I’m a toy to them, not a person.”
“Then ask them where you stand.” Peter stood and folded his arms. Wendy crept into the room and put her arm around Tiger Lily.
“Those two… sometimes you need to be specific with them. They think they know what’s going on. John’s so smart and Michael’s heart is so big, but they miss things. They love you, I’m sure, just as I’m certain you love them.” She brushed Tiger Lily’s hair from her face. “Make them earn your love.”
Sometimes she didn’t care for Wendy very much. Other times, Tiger Lily liked having another sub to get what she was going through. She knew her men, but now she truly understood them. Yes, they’d helped train another sub, but they still cared about her. Now she needed to show them exactly what she wanted, too.
“Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Wendy.” Tiger Lily nodded. She knew exactly what to do -- make her men beg.

Tuesday, August 27, 2019

When Your Health was Written in the Stars: Medieval Medicine and Astrology by L. A. Kelley

It’s the middle of the Medieval Ages and you’re not feeling up to snuff. There are no HMO’s so what’s a person to do? Luckily, the local doctor has the right astrological charts to get you back in fighting shape. The basis of medieval medicine was the perceived belief in the connection between astrology and human anatomy. Astral connections weren’t unique to Europeans. The Babylonians created the first organized system of astrology, mostly as a way of divining information about political events in particular locations. Historically, kings and emperors were known to call upon designated court astrologers before going into war. The Egyptians improved on the Babylonia system and devised the zodiac around the 1st century BC. Ptolemy, who lived in Alexandria further developed horoscopic astrology into signs we know today.

Ancient peoples believed astrological bodies had the power to rule fortunes on Earth, so why not the human body, too? To treat a patient, a medieval physician needed to consult the stars, specifically the location of the moon. In the case of an operation, the first step was to check the moon’s alignment. A close relationship to a constellation signaled that a zodiac sign was active. Unlike solar counterparts, lunar signs last only two or three days, rather than an entire month.  If the moon blocked Leo then Leo was active and when a sign was active, it was dangerous to operate on associated body parts. You better hope that boil on your foot didn’t fester until the doctor considered it safe to lance.

The Middle Ages had no telescopes, so illnesses and their treatments were only ascribed to the seven planets visible with the naked eye along with the sun and the moon. Each one was believed to affect specific body parts and some were clearly holdover from ancient myths. Venus and Mars, for instance were linked to reproductive systems. Where else would you expect from the goddess of love and the uber-macho god of war? Specific diseases also had their own astrological signs. Poisoning was linked to Saturn, insanity to Mercury and liver trouble to Jupiter.

Astrological signs were connected to specific body parts and covered a person head to toe. Since Aries was the first sign in the zodiac it affected the uppermost region of the head. The next sign was Taurus who affected the throat and neck. Other signs continued the downward progression in order until reaching Pisces, the last sign of the zodiac who had responsibility for the feet and toes.

After voicing a complaint to a doctor, the diagnosis process began by determining where the moon was in location to a constellation when the patient first became ill. Doctors had special almanacs (or calendars) containing illustrated star charts, allowing them to check the positions of the stars before making a diagnosis. They often had illustration for patients, the Middle Ages equivalent of those pamphlets at your doctor’s office. How did the system work? Let’s say, an examination of your astrological chart determined the need for therapeutic bloodletting. Because the moon governed blood flow, it was best not scheduled during a full moon. Then you needed to know where the moon was in a constellation and the birth date of the patient to determine the effect on their astrological sign.

Complex and confusing, no? The presumed relationships between the heavenly bodies and the human body were so complex, numerous, and contradictory that in practice it was impossible to carry out any operation without breaking some astrological rule. Naturally, many patients died, but the reasoning was don’t blame the practitioner, blame the system. Someone simply miscalculated a star chart. It makes one wonder how many patients survived not because of medieval doctors and their lunatic diagnoses, but in spite of them.

L. A. Kelley writes science fiction and fantasy adventures with humor, romance, and a touch of sass. She can align your planets by smacking you upside the head.

Sunday, August 25, 2019

The Next Chapter . . . Where to go from Here? by Nancy Gideon

When one chapter closes, another begins. So it is with life. The same is true with writing. Since 2010, I’ve completed almost 400 chapters in my “By Moonlight” shapeshifter series. It’s hard to believe the last page will be done before the year’s end. That’s close to 7,000 pages since I began the initial prologue! All following the same storyline with the same characters. It’s been an adventure, a challenge, a frustration, a delight. And soon it’s going to be over.

These characters and their problems have consumed my non-9-to-5 hours. I’m embarrassed to say my conversations and stolen moments with them have taken up more hours of the day than my friends and family. I used to worry about what might happen if they stopped talking to me. Now, I know they’re about to fall silent.

What now?

My relationship with these characters has lasted longer than most marriages. I have to move on. I know that. But where do I go? After looking at my project file, I realize I have more opportunities than a dating app! Apparently, other heroes and heroines have spoken to me over these past two decades, but I haven’t been listening.

I’m listening now.

I don’t know about you, but I’m a pathological plotter. I like big plots and I cannot lie! I developed a six book contemporary series complete with character names, story arcs and titles on the drive back from a writers’ retreat! Plotting is a safe escape when you KNOW you don’t have time to actually sit down and write the full books. I’ve got over a quarter of a century of storylines to choose from broken down into different genres: historical, contemporary, suspense, YA paranormal, even horror! I’ve got completed proposals with chapters. I’ve got handwritten manuscripts. I’ve got outlines and exhaustive notes. I’ve even got a substantial backlist to either market or self-publish. An embarrassment of riches that will outlast my lifetime. But this ADD/OCD gal feels like she’s standing in front of the donut display case trying to pick just one while an impatient line waits behind me. They all look good. Rich, tasty, fulfilling. Sigh . . . What if I don’t like the one I choose? Do I reeeeeally want to go back to work for a publisher? Do I want to learn the ins and outs of a new market? Do I want to shop for a – God forbid – agent? 

Before I fall into a procrastination coma, I’m going to throw the above out to you? WWMPNRPD? What would my PNR pals do? If you were me, what would you pick? What would you like to read? What would grab an audience in today’s market? Don’t say which ever one excites me because these projects are like those dreamy himbos on the Bachelorette – they all look good but living with them is a different matter. Decisions, decisions . . .

While I concentrate on finishing the project at hand, I’ll entertain your thoughts on my options for the next decade. I’m listening . . .
Nancy Gideon on the Web

Friday, August 23, 2019

When Chewy first came into our life, I was not charmed by his puppy ways to say the least!  He barked and whined most of that summer night, after my step-daughter dropped him off in our backyard. He wanted inside with us and I wanted him and his yowling gone.
Chewy was a mix of breeds, all of them big!  Black Lab, German Shepherd, and likely Husky, but I was convinced he was part wolf that first night.
After that rocky introduction, Chewy settled into our routines, with his new best friend, Ollie, our other canine boarder.  Ollie was the antithesis of Chewy in nature.  Gentle, quiet, shy, he seemed to spread peace in his wake as he passed through a room. Chewy was still a growing puppy, but being laid-back and mellow wasn't a part of his DNA.   
Chewy not only weathered the storm of my distress at having a second dog taking up residence with us, he won my heart.  I guess it was the perpetual, mischievous grin he seemed to wear and his good natured play. I enjoyed watching him tear around the yard chasing Ollie, in some crazy game they devised, in their unique understanding of having fun. They'd weave in and out of of trees, up and down the deck and end in a friendly tussle on the soft grass.  
We were a happy, blended family and our two furry sons gave life a new dimension to enjoy and experience. But as in all of life, no matter how we struggle to ignore it, there is a beginning and there is an end.  
Chewy was a creature with an adventurous spirit.  He loved nothing better than exploring the world around him. He was constantly digging under our heavy fencing, likely with Ollie's total cooperation.  As the pack leader, Chewy would pick the 'where and when' of their next adventure into the unknown woods and fields surrounding us.  This plotting didn't take into consideration the busy road a quarter-mile away. 
I found Ollie sitting by the garage when I returned home on yet another summer day, but Chewy was no where in sight.  I put Ollie in the house and began searching by foot, calling Chewy's name, knowing in my heart he wasn't going to be found this close to home.  Getting into my car I began driving and dreading what I knew I'd find. 
He was lying, stretched out along the side of that busy road.  I don't remember pulling over, but in the next minute I was kneeling beside Chewy.  His lively golden eyes, already dulled in death, didn't light up with that love-connection our dog companions have for us. He couldn't hear the distress in my voice as I stroked his sleek head whispering, "No. Chewy, no!" I don't know how long I mourned over his still body, but gradually, I realized I was no longer alone.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. For some reason, I didn't flinch.  I wasn't afraid when the stranger placed a strong hand under my elbow and helped me to my feet.  I looked up into his face, blurred through my tears.  He was very tall, dressed in faded jeans and a T shirt.  
He gave me a knowing smile as I stood, almost transfixed in my shock and sadness. "He's gone, but he didn't suffer," were his first words.
"I want to take him home, but I can't leave him here alone." I felt compelled to share with this stranger.  I began sobbing at the thought of leaving Chewy exposed to the living, as death claimed his own hunger for life.
The tall man took me into his arms and I pressed my face into his chest and cried.  When I pulled away, I saw that same gentle smile and he said, "I'll stay with him until you get back with a blanket, so we can wrap him and put him in your car."  Nodding and looking down at Chewy, I returned to my jeep and began to pull back onto the street.  I glanced over at the man. He stood with his hands crossed in front of himself like a soldier standing watch.
When I returned ten minutes later, the stranger was in the same position.  He took the old blanket from me, carefully spread it and rolled Chewy's limp body onto it.  After securing it around him, Chewy was placed inside my car and the hatch closed with a finality.  I was standing beside the man.  This time my tears slid silently down my face. The wailing was a ceremony and now it was over. 
I moved around to the front of my vehicle after thanking the stranger for all of his help and "especially for the hug."  I got behind the wheel, ready to drive Chewy home for the last time.
When I left earlier to retrieve a blanket from the house, I noticed the old pick-up truck the stranger parked  behind me.  I never heard it pull over in the fog of my shock.  I vaguely remembered the man telling me he stopped when he saw me kneeling beside my dog.  How did he know I didn't just hit someone else's dog?
Before I pulled onto the road, I glanced back again. The truck was gone.  I didn't hear his truck driving over the lose gravel where we were parked.  I hadn't see him pull out onto the street, driving off in either direction. 
Driving that ten minutes home, my Jeep felt like a hearse, with my beautiful Chewy in back.  Suddenly, my maudlin thoughts resolved themselves into a stillness like the face of a quiet pond. I felt an unexpected calmness enter me and I embraced a new memory.
I will always cherish the time Chewy shared his zest for life with us and miss his grin and knowing golden eyes.  I will also always be grateful to the stranger who held me in a calming, loving embrace.  I will always remember Chewy's Angel.

Tuesday, August 20, 2019

Top 10 Reasons to Love a Shifter

There’s just something about a shifter. Is it the muscles? The attitude? The protectiveness? I mean, let’s be honest, alpha shifters can be demanding, possessive, pushy, bossy, and even alpha-holey (totally made up that word). So, what keeps readers (and their mates) coming back?

Just for fun (my husband is sitting here rolling his eyes as I giggle away) here are my top 10 reasons to love a shifter (in no particular order).

Tall & Muscle-y
It’s tough to picture a pudgy wolf or a puny dragon (although I’m giving myself ideas for characters now). Shifters tend to be super tall and built. Which means they can help you reach things off the top shelf. (Hey, I’m 5’2”. This is important.)

Fun Way to Travel
Not sure a wolf could carry a human. But a dragon shifter definitely can. As a former competitive skydiver, dragon flight (as long as I can do something with my hair, and something to stay warm) sounds pretty dang awesome.

Edge of Danger
Like wild animals, there’s the possibility that a shifter could snap at any moment. I married a good guy (and I’m dang lucky to have caught him), but something about those bad boys…

Means Well--Sometimes Just Needs a Firm Hand
The best shifters (like humans, I’m not saying they’re all good)—the ones we root for—always have their heart in the right place. Our heroines might need to work on those egos as well as deal with some possessiveness and outright bossiness. But my heroines, at least, have no problem with that.

Brings Home the Bacon (Literally)
I imagine shifters of all kinds have to be pretty good hunters—the predatory ones at least. And if it’s a bird shifter, or maybe a squirrel, then you’ve got yourself nuts and berries for the winner. So, you’ll never run out of food.

Fate is Totally Handy
Don’t you sometimes wish fate gave you a helping hand in relationships? I love the books that have some kind of destined mating system set up. Not that it takes the decision out of your hands (ever), because everyone likes choices. But it sure is nice to have that whole “rest of our lives” thing confirmed by the supernatural. 😊

Puts His Life on the Line
While the ready to rumble is out their fighting skills, even better is the fact that a shifter, for the right person (be it a lover, a brother, a mate, a child, etc.), would not hesitate to put himself (or herself, because our heroines rock) in harm's way to protect that person. As this world gets scarier, don’t we need more heroes like that? Even in fiction.

Great at Parties
Could you imagine shifting as a party trick? My dragon shifters might have trouble as they’re kinda large (40 feet tall). But a wolf shifter. Get a camera ready because the reactions would be priceless!

He’s Got the Moves
Have you ever seen a predator move? Especially when they’ve locked their sights on their target. Now picture that in our shifters, and they’re looking at the heroine that way. (Or vice versa, because our shifter ladies are just as prowly and delicious.) Best that translates to the dance floor…and other places. 😉

No One Puts Baby in a Corner
Once a shifter has a woman in his heart, nothing comes before her. She is the most important thing in his world and vice versa. Kids get added in, but that’s a different thing. I think everyone would love to be the center of the universe for someone.

What about you? What is it that you love about a shifter? Maybe you’d love to meet the heroes in my dragon shifter series--Fallon, Finn, Aidan, Brand, and soon Drake and Ladon!

**All images linked directly from

Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Medical Advances vs The Common Cold by Diane Burton

"I'm late, I'm late...for a very important date," says the White Rabbit in Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland

This post is late. The above quote popped in my head since I'm reading a book by Josie Brown (The Housewife Assassin's Killer App) in which a hacker quotes Lewis Carroll's works to get the good guys' attention. 

Can I blame my tardiness on my cold? My head hasn't been "in the game," so to speak. How is it I can escape a winter cold yet get a summer one? 

For the past week, I've gone through the stages of a cold--sneezing, stuffy nose, headache, coughing. It's just about run its course. (Hubs so kindly shared his cold, given to him--probably--by one of the grandkids.) 

Since I write science fiction, I subscribe to The Medical Futurist, an online magazine about the future of medicine, hoping it will give me some ideas for my stories. 

I've learned about using virtual bodies to test drugs, how digital technologies impact medical specialties, using Artificial Intelligence (AI) for health care. But I've yet to see that the future has a cure for the common cold.

Almost everyone gets a cold. We muddle through it, feeling wretched and unproductive. So, where's the cure? Or, better yet, the prevention?

In the grand scheme of things, a cold is an inconvenience. It's not life threatening. We're miserable, but after a week we're better. Meanwhile, we've probably shared the virus with whomever we've come in contact. (Sorry, family.)

All I can say is in my imaginary future world, colds--no, wait, all viruses--have been eliminated. No more colds. 

Stay healthy, my friends.

Wednesday, August 7, 2019

Love in a Time of Madness by Jane Kindred

Writing about love and magic often seems like a frivolous endeavor while so many awful, frightening things are going on all around us. Fascism, racial hatred and white supremacist terrorism are on the rise against a backdrop of melting polar ice, out-of-control forest fires, and devastating hurricanes. How can I justify writing silly stories about sexy shifters and love at first sight in the midst of what often feels like the prelude to the apocalypse?

The alternative, unless one is moved—and versatile enough—to write nonfiction or political commentary, is writing nothing. And a world in chaos needs love more than ever. When everything else is awful, escaping for a few hours into a place where love is the most important thing may be the only way some of us have of not succumbing to the madness.

This isn’t the most novel thought, I suppose, and I’m sure plenty of writers have said it more eloquently. But as I tried to think of a topic for this post, I realized I was feeling guilty about writing it. Just as I’m feeling guilty about writing my current work in progress. So much awfulness has happened in the past few days that it feels audacious to write about romance. But it’s also my job—the writer’s job—to create stories that go out into the world and try to change the world, if just a tiny bit in a tiny corner of it. And maybe romance won’t change the world in any spectacular way—it won’t help someone out of poverty, end racism, or save lives, but if makes just one person feel a little less alone and hopeless in the midst of all this madness—if it gives someone pleasure—then I guess I’ve done my job.

So I’m heading back to work in my little imaginary world of jaguar spirits, dark entities, and people who can talk to the dead—yeah, I know, that doesn’t sound very romantic, but the times do tend to influence the words, don’t they? And I promise, there’s sexual tension and desire and love in there, too. But there won’t be if I don’t get my butt in gear and get it done.

Sunday, August 4, 2019

The Last Sale of the Summer

August is upon us, and the summer is winding down—almost as quickly as this sale. 

If you haven't had enough time to get in some summer reading, I have a treat for you. Even though it’s not even Halloween—and you don’t need a costume. NOT A CHANCE is on sale for .99cents for a limited time.

Not a Chance in book #2 in The Enchantlings series, so if you want to start Hope's journey from the beginning then don't forget to pick up Destiny Calling—two books for under $8.

The last thing Hope Hallows wants is to become the latest headline. Living in a town that likes secrets, she prefers to keep hers hidden. Avoiding a nosy reporter’s questions about her ability to infuse euphoria or despair with a single touch, and those who crave this bliss, is nothing new. But having her brother’s annoying girlfriend, Berta, go missing is—especially when it makes Hope suspect number one. 

As a triplet, her resemblance to her beloved dead sister causes her family to grieve even more, and her escalating supernatural skills makes Griffith, her half-human-half-Oppressor boyfriend, wary. He wants to put his unsavory past behind him—this could include Hope—since her abilities remind him of the Underworld. 
In her desperate search to find Berta, she stumbles across a tunnel. Phantom voices within whisper that evil has been waiting for a new leader—and isn't she lucky, they've chosen Hope.

Get Your Copy of NOT A CHANCE for .99 cents today!

About the Author:

Maureen Bonatch grew up in small town Pennsylvania and her love of the four
seasons—hockey, biking, sweat pants and hibernation—keeps her there. While immersed in writing or reading paranormal romance and fantasy, she survives on caffeine, wine, music, and laughter. A feisty Shih Tzu keeps her in line. Find Maureen on her websiteFacebook & Twitter

Be the first to know about Maureen’s book sales and new releases by following her on BookBubAmazon and/or signing up for her newsletter

Thursday, August 1, 2019

More NASA Stuff by Diane Burton

I hope you aren't tired of my posts about NASA. During Amazon's Prime Days, I grabbed a copy of the DVD, First Man, about Neil Armstrong that culminated in his walk on the moon. From the film, I learned so much I didn't know about him. Since I love the bonus features on DVDs, I learned even more. 

Watching the film last week was appropriate since we just celebrated the 50th Anniversary of that momentous event. Fifty years! That is so hard to believe. In a little over 15 years, the U.S. went from watching the Russians put Sputnik in orbit to putting a man on the moon. Amazing!

Because my formative years were spent watching the "space race" and my classroom was always plastered with photos of the original astronauts, I've been geeked over humans leaving Earth to explore space. Gene Roddenberry called it "The Final Frontier." We've explored everywhere on this planet, but that's not enough. What else is out there?

When my mother-in-law died at age 102, I remember thinking that in her lifetime she'd seen the beginning of flight with the Wright Brothers to men walking on the moon. How fast were the advances in flight.

Will there be habitats on the moon? How soon? With the Artemis program (that I wrote about last time) we're going back to the moon. The crew will stay on a space station-like platform orbiting the moon then travel back and forth gathering info and doing experiments. What will they find? Scientists are hoping to discover something about the origins of life.

I wonder if, from the moon, they'll build another space station as a stopover on the way to Mars. Babysteps. Each mission building those before. I'm thrilled to read about new missions. But, sadly (for me), I probably won't live to see all those advances in space exploration. 

So, I'll continue to write about what I think will happen. What I hope will happen. And I'll teach my grandkids to be awed by NASA's new missions.