Tag Archive | Crescent Moon Press

Rebecca Trogner and “The Last Keeper’s Daughter”

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Today’s post is part of a Goddess Fish tour for Rebecca Trogner’s The Last Keeper’s Daughter. One commenter from the tour will receive a $50 Amazon gift card, so follow the other tour stops and comment often to increase your chances of winning!

About The Last Keeper’s Daughter

Born into old money, Lily Ayres lives at Waverly, her family’s estate situated at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Paris, Virginia.  She is a strange, small, almost mute, young woman who has no idea that her father has given her to the Vampire King Krieger.  Walter Ayres is the King’s Keeper and part of a secret society of historians who unearth, preserve, and attempt to understand relics of long forgotten civilizations.

Lily has never felt comfortable in the human world, but after she suspiciously falls down a flight of stone steps, and is healed and claimed by Krieger, she realizes there is another world.  In this Other Realm she feels a sense of belonging, and begins to untwine the mysterious event which left her mentally and psychologically damaged.  When Walter disappears in England, Lily works with human and supernatural beings to uncover his whereabouts.  With each new discovery, she is pulled deeper into the vortex of magic, intrigue, and dark desires that permeates the supernatural world.  The revelations revealed unfold a story of deception and betrayal that threaten to tear the thin veil between the supernatural and human world asunder.

Excerpt

 Cover for Last Keeper's Daughter“You said, ‘my time’. You mean when you were human? How old are you?”

“I was born in the reign of Augustus Caesar.”

Her mind furiously worked through her history class timeline. “Before Christ?”

“Roughly two thousand years ago.”

There had to be a million questions she should ask, important things, and yet none of them came to mind.

“I thought people were smaller, less healthy back then, but you’re huge.”

He laughed, and she liked the sound of it. “I came from a tribe of warriors. We were considered giants in our time. The lands have changed hands many times since then but it was once called Germania under the Roman Empire.”

“Barbarians,” the word slipped out. She hadn’t meant to say it.

Krieger gave a wolf’s grin. “We were called that, and many other things. After my human death, I became a centurion.”

“But weren’t you fighting the Romans?”

He nodded. “I was to be sold for the gladiatorial games. A Roman took an interest in me, and the rest is history.”

“Did you want to become a vampire?”

She could see the question had caught him off guard.

“I wanted to live, and so I have.”

“And Liam, is he a werewolf?”

“He was born a werewolf. He became a Vantor.”

“I don’t understand.”

“When you feel more comfortable with Liam, you should ask him about the details. I will say that he and his pack are werewolves with vampire blood running through their veins. They are one of the most dangerous of the Others.”

Available

Amazon • Barnes & Noble • Books A Million

About the Author

Rebecca Trogner PictureRebecca Trogner lives in the Shenandoah Valley region of Virginia, and frequently crosses the Blue Ridge Mountains that were the inspiration for Krieger’s home. She always dreamed of being a writer, but got sidetracked by the day-to-day adventures of life. With the encouragement of her family, she has finished her first novel and is currently writing the next book in The Last Keeper’s Daughter series. Rebecca lives with her husband and stepson, and a rescue dog named Giblet. To find out more about the author visit www.rebeccatrogner.com.

Contacts

Website • Blog • Goodreads • Twitter

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“Wanted: One Ghost” by Loni Lynne

VBT Wanted One Ghost

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Loni will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B&N gift card (winner’s choice) to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. Comment on the other tour stops to increase your chance of winning!

July 15:  The Eternal Scribe
July 16:  Andi’s Book Reviews
July 17:  Straight from the Library
July 18:  Dawn’s Reading Nook Blog
July 19:  Punya Reviews…
July 22:  Romance on a Budget
July 23:  Storm Goddess Book Reviews and More
July 23:  STOP 2  Queen of All She Reads
July 24:  Lisa Haselton’s Reviews and Interviews
July 25:  Long and Short Reviews
July 26:  Susana’s Morning Room

James Addison talks about his role in my debut paranormal romance, Wanted: One Ghost from Crescent Moon Press, a paranormal/fantasy romance with some romantic spice and ghostly intrigue:

Loni Lynne:  Thank you for being here today, James.  I love your costume. It’s so Americana.

James: Actually, this is my normal clothing. I’m most comfortable in breeches and linen shirts. I’m having tea with the Friends of Kings Mill, Maryland Ladies Auxiliary later today.  I’m part of the festivities for Kings Mill Days these next few weeks. Dr. Freelane from the historical society thought I would make a perfect ‘James Addison’.

Loni Lynne: Well, she was right. Who better to play you than—‘you’.

James: My thoughts exactly!  So, what would you like to know?

Loni Lynne: Your character—

James: I have superb character! (He preens and smiles.)  It was a joke.

Loni Lynne: Of course.  As I was saying, your character is unique.  You are over two hundred and fifty years old?

James: Nearly 271 years of age actually. I was born December 16 in the year of our Lord, 1742 in England.

Loni Lynne: Wait a minute! You don’t look a day over thirty-five.

James: (Laughing) Actually I was killed at the age of thirty and two.  I’ve been haunting Kings Mill, Maryland since.  I think in whatever realm I was in, there is no sense of time.

Loni Lynne: So you’ve been here since 1774?

James: As a spirit…yes.  It wasn’t until Dr. April Branford rescued me from my hellish wanderings a few days ago that I was able to interact with others.  It’s rather odd really. I’ve been here, seen the changes in time, and yet have not been able to interact at all. I was as shocked as she to realize she could see me, much less communicate with me.

Loni Lynne: Dr. Branford, tell me about her.

James: Ah yes! She’s saucy and sweet, and as intelligent as I’ve ever known a person to be—and has this unusual gift for being able to touch things and tell their past. She calls it psychometry.  In my day she might have been considered a witch.

Loni Lynne: You were a ghost when she met you?

James: It was a ghost tour, really. She actually thought I was one of the tour guides. I didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. It might have frightened her. So when we met up again at the cemetery on All Hallows Eve, I didn’t think anything about it until—(he grins and shakes his head)

Loni Lynne: Until what?

Cover_WantedJames: I’ll let you all read that scene for yourselves:

The roots of the firs were tangled and exposed in areas, moss and lichen grew around the bottom of the obelisk grave marker, a layer of dead branches and fan-like fir needles surrounded the base. April could read the month and year of his death but the date was a bit obscure. 

She buried her nose into a fresh tissue as she held back a sneeze so she didn’t alert the rest of the group of her whereabouts. 

Wiping her nose she knelt in front of the tombstone and placed the end of the flashlight between her teeth to give her direct light on what she was doing. The soggy ground soaked into the knees of her jeans. She could hear the faint voices of the group from just over the rise, yet she felt a prickling of unease. Glancing around, she didn’t see anything.

She wiped moisture from the front of the headstone with her scarf, revealing the blackened embossing on the aged marble. Angling the paper over part of the intricate design, she fumbled with the pencil in her gloved hand. The cumbersome gloves had to go. Removing the offending obstacles and tossing them to the side, April rubbed her pencil over the markings, steadying herself against the marble with her other hand. 

A jolt of heat coursed from her palm to her shoulder and she jerked back. Falling onto her bottom, she dropped the pencil and paper. Nearly choking on the flashlight, she threw the light to the side and fought to catch her breath. Still tingling from the shock, she shook her arm to relieve the pain. 

She picked up the flashlight again and slowly approached the gravestone. Her heart thudded in her ears. Reaching out for the paper and pencil she had dropped, she kept her eye on the stone as if waiting for it to move. Cautiously, she leaned forward and touched it. The marble was as cold and even-surfaced as an old tombstone in late October should be. 

Confused, she inched away on her knees, backing away from the headstone, a frightening wariness settling over her as she slowly stood up and continued moving cautiously away from the monument.

“Henry Samuel is not worthy of your fascination, Dr. Branford.”

April gasped and whirled, shining the flashlight into the night. There, mere inches in front of her, stood her mysterious tour guide. A moment of relief caused her to catch her breath before the toe of her boot caught on a loose tree root, sending her falling through a chilly mist of air. She landed on her hands and knees. 

Quickly, she turned over and stared up at her re-enactor, who stood between her and Henry Samuel’s grave. So close she should have fallen into him. And then the truth of the situation hit her. She crab crawled away from him and the tombstone, her eyes wide with horror. 

She couldn’t think. “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Her voice shook with the only words she could say. 

He smiled down at her, tilting his tricorne back on his head, revealing those damn hypnotic eyes.

 “I haven’t heard a lady say that to me for some time. Nice to know I haven’t lost my touch,” he preened.

“You’re…not…real,” April gasped, holding her chest as she tried desperately to find her footing. “You’re…a…ghost. You really are a ghost!”

 He shrugged. “I suppose so. No one has told me any differently. But then no one has been able to talk to me in two hundred and thirty-eight years. You’re the first.” With an elegant flourish, he bowed to her.

“Oh my God!” She was shaking so badly she couldn’t move. Her muscles had frozen. The seat of her jeans was wet but she wasn’t sure if she had peed herself or the damp ground had soaked into them.

He extended his hand in a gentlemanly fashion to help her up, but she only stared at the proffered limb. He sighed.

“Of course. It would do me no good to try and help you up since I’m…”

“…not real. You’re not real. This isn’t happening to me.” April closed her eyes and tried to repeat the mantra over and over again, hoping her mental state would finally sort out the situation and thrust her back into reality. She opened her eyes. He was still there, his infuriatingly charming smile, just short of a laugh, etched into one devilishly handsome face. 

Scrambling for purchase she grabbed her articles, keeping a close eye on her specter and quickly walked backwards down the knoll until she was on the cobblestone path. She had to get out of here. Where was the damn exit!

Loni Lynne: But you’re not a ghost now.

James: No. That is something April will have to explain but I’m not sure she knows all the details either. I still think it has to do with Fate. I’ve been dead for 238 years but never went beyond the boundaries of Kings Mill’s historical district or what I knew of my time on Earth. Then suddenly, I meet her, a historical researcher with a unique gift and I’m born anew.

Loni Lynne: What is next for James Addison and April Branford?

James: (Looking at his pocket watch) Oh dear! Look at the time…I really must be going. I shouldn’t let the ladies auxiliary down now, should I?

Loni Lynne: I get it…you can’t say.

James: Let’s just say, tell me how the story ends.  I’m anxious to know what happens, myself.

Loni Lynne: James, thank you for taking time out and talking with us today. I look forward to seeing what takes place between you and April.

James: (Placing his tri-corne on his head and winks) As do I.  I would love to have readers from your interview leave me notes. It has been such a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to associate with proper society, it would be grand if they could suggest some modern day activities that I might enjoy. I do love to read but April has introduced me to a typing machine that is connected to the world—no clue what to do with it. There is something called a tely-vision in which I can see various performances without leaving my home? I’m looking for plays that may interest me. All comments would be welcome and appreciated.

Loni Lynne:  I’ll make sure we have viewers leave suggestions for you. There are many great books and shows that might interest you.

Please, leave a suggestion for a book or television show that you think James Addison might like to enjoy. He would love to hear from you. Remember, there is a $15 Gift Card to be raffled off during this tour. Be sure to leave a comment to be entered.

You may purchase Wanted: One Ghost from these fine distributors:

Amazon or Barnes & Noble

About Wanted: One Ghost

Stuck in ghostly limbo for 238 years, James Addison can’t move on to an afterlife.  After being falsely accused of treason and executed, fate’s cursed him to remain an earth-bound specter until he meets a historian sent to research his past.

Distrustful of fate, Dr. April Branford wants to be taken seriously, but her unique ability to divine history by touching objects seriously compromises her credibility. Her latest assignment?  James Addison, a legendary colonial ladies’ man with a shadowy past.  Without much to go on, she doesn’t hold out much hope to discover the man behind the legend until the day she accidentally touches him and brings him back to life.

With the help of family and ghosts from James’s past, they unravel the truth. But after falling in love and with time running out, it’s hard for April to believe in fate and a future where forever is now.

Excerpt #3

April’s digital camera came to life and she switched the setting to playback, scrolling through the photos. She’d taken a bevy of pictures, ones of the hanging tree, the colonial storefronts and historical houses, the front and back of the courthouse. She came across the last picture, the one she’d taken right outside, and then it went back to her older photos. Everything was there but the picture of her guide. She gasped and thumbed frantically through the pictures again.

“What’s wrong, April dear?” Her aunt got up from the chair and came over to her, bringing her cup of tea with her.

“It was here…I mean, the picture is here but he isn’t.” The photo showed part of the lamp post she’d had her guide stand in front of. There was a bright, fuzzy ball of light obscuring part of the gaslight. Could it be a possible reflection off the light and her flash? She’d captured him in the frame, she was positive!

Her aunt looked over her arm at the frame revealing the street along with the courthouse. April didn’t like the knowing smile and twinkle to her aunt’s eye. “Oh, he’s there,” she said, peering up from over her tea cup.

“What do you mean?” She was almost afraid to ask.

“You’ve managed to capture what we call residual paranormal energy. See the spot of fuzzy light in the middle of the picture? You’ve captured an image of a paranormal orb. Welcome to the family, April. You’ve seen your first ghost.”

AuthorPicAbout the Author

Loni Lynne is a stay at home mom, domestic goddess, U.S. Navy Veteran and lover of all things vintage/shabby-chic/Victorian and antique. From china cups and tea sets to lace doilies crocheted by hand (her grandmother made the best) she believes a touch of femininity never goes out of style.

Growing up all over the country she’s been blessed with experiencing a good deal of culture and lifestyles. Much like her personality, she has eclectic tastes in what she likes to read and write. There is no ‘one’ genre in which she settles for.

God and fate have been big influences in her life. Both have taken her to places she never thought she’d be, both in the physical sense and in the spiritual. She wrote brief stories and snippets of life as it happened to her in her youth, and encouraged by her teachers, continued to write. Blessed with a loving supportive family growing up, she was able to explore her options which at times have been put into use in her stories. The Navy–and fate, afforded her the opportunity to meet her Army, “Annapolis-native” husband and team up with him to parent two beautiful daughters.

Years later, her husband gave her the best birthday present ever–a laptop, a membership to Romance Writers of America and a goal to complete a manuscript for submission by her next birthday. She did it. A few years later she was blessed with one of those novels, Wanted: One Ghost, as her debut novel.

Believe in Fate.

Contacts

Website • Publisher Website • Twitter • Facebook

Guest Author: Shawna Romkey GIVEAWAY!

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Win a $20 Amazon Gift Card and/or a Treasuring Theresa coffee mug!

Susana’s Morning Room is celebrating the second anniversary of The Romance Reviews with the Treasuring Theresa Lucky In Love Giveaway. To enter the contest, click the TRR graphic at right or the Treasuring Theresa cover graphic in the side bar. Before you go, leave a comment on today’s guest post for five contest entries. Be sure to include your email address in your comment!

* * * * *

Shawna has hidden some Easter eggs in this blog post. If you find them, you can win a Speak of the Devil prize pack and a $25 Amazon gift card!

To enter, read through her post today. In it, you will find an Easter egg (a letter that stands out.) Find her other blog entries for the tour. (HINT: the list is posted on her website at www.shawnaromkey.com.) You will find Easter eggs in the starred blog posts, too. Once you’ve found the eggs in each post, put them together to find the secret passcode and tweet the code including @sromkey #speakofthedevil (ANOTHER HINT: the letters are in order.) (AND ANOTHER HINT! The passcode will look like this: — — – —- — — —–)

One winner will be chosen from the entries on Easter, March 31! Good luck!

* * * * *

SRsmAbout Speak of the Devil

What happens when falling in love and falling from grace collide?

After dying in a car accident with her two best friends, Lily miraculously awakens to grief and guilt. She escapes to her dad’s to come to terms with the event and meets some people at her new school who seem all too eager to help her heal. Sliding deeper into sorrow and trying to fight her feelings for two of them, she finds out who…what they really are and that they are falling too.

Can she find the strength to move on from the past, reconcile her feelings for Luc, find a way to stop a divine war with fallen angels, and still pass the eleventh grade?

About the Author

Shawna grew up in around farms in the heart of Missouri but went to the University of Kansas, was raised in the US but now lives on the ocean in Nova Scotia with her husband, two sons, two rescue dogs and one overgrown puppy from hell. She’s a non-conformist who follows her heart.

She has her BA in creative writing from the University of Kansas where one of her plays was chosen by her creative writing professor to be produced locally, and two of her short stories were published in a university creative arts handbook.  She earned her MA in English from Central Missouri State University where she wrote a novel as her thesis.

She’s taught English at the university and secondary levels for close to twenty years and can’t quite fathom how all of her students have grown up, yet she’s managed to stay the same.  She’s a huge geek and fan of Xena, Buffy and all kick ass women, and loves to write stories that have strong female characters.

www.shawnaromkey.com

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Shawna-Romkey-Author/137998326331706?ref=hl

https://twitter.com/sromkey

http://pinterest.com/shawnarp/

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6869437.Shawna_Romkey

SpeakOfTheDevilsmExcerpt

Rain fell, not uncommon for late spring in Missouri. “If you don’t like the weather here,” my grandfather would say, “wait five minutes.” Of course, I’d visited distant relatives in Maine once before, and they said the same thing.

Julie fumbled with the wipers while I pulled the sun visor down to check my face in its little rectangular mirror, even though I’d only left my vanity like five minutes ago. The lights on either side lit up the interior of the car. I reached into my tiny party purse to find my lip gloss, which was easy to locate since I’d only packed the essentials in my bag: phone, some cash, and make-up. As I glanced at myself, I saw Mike in the reflection, smiling at me from the back seat. I stuck my tongue out at him, making him laugh, and put on the lip-gloss, fully aware of how flirty I acted.

The windshield wipers couldn’t keep up with the sudden downpour. The pitter-patter turned to thumping. Hail came down in gumball-sized pellets. “Damn.” Julie jerked the steering wheel to keep The Whale off the curb.

“Slow down, Jules.” Mike gripped Julie’s headrest. “We can pull over until it passes.”

“Yeah.” She squinted to see the road before her.

I pressed my lips together to smooth out the gloss. “Damn is right. I didn’t bring a jacket.”

The Whale swerved to the right crunching along the gravel on the side of the road. I braced myself in my seat. Julie leaned up to the steering wheel and peered over it as my grandmother sometimes did when she drove. I squinted because of the stupid light up visor mirror. I slammed it shut, but Julie panicked and over corrected, pulling The Whale to the left and careening over the yellow dotted line in the middle of the street.

“Julie!” Mike shouted.

Time slowed and ticked out in heartbeats.

Ba bum.

Julie cringed, her hands moving up to shield her face. Her head turned away from the highway.

Ba bum.

Mike reached protectively from the back seat.

Ba bum.

The headlights illuminated the rail of the overpass.

Ba bum.

The car hit the rail on the opposite side of the road with a hard thud.

Ba bum.

Crap. We’re going over the bridge.

Ba bum.

The Whale’s nose pointed down toward the water.

Ba bum.

A jolt forward and my forehead slammed into the dashboard.

Ba bum.

The Whale flipped in the air. I’m upside down.

Ba bum.

Pain.

Ba bum.

Did my mom say good-bye when I left?

Ba bum.

Cold water rushed into the car.

Ba bum.

Is this it?

Ba bum.

I can’t breathe. Oh my God, I can’t breathe. I can’t see or breathe!

My heart quickened. It pounded. The Whale leaned on its side under the surface of the water which rushed in fast, and I couldn’t see a damn thing.

Calm, stay calm. Don’t panic. They say when you’re drowning not to panic because you use up your air faster.
Dammit, am I drowning?

I tried to get myself upright and jerked out of my seatbelt. Luckily, it gave way. I fought the latch to open the door facing up, but the pressure of the water from Black Water River held it closed, trapping me inside.

Jesus. I know this river. It’s more of a creek. It can’t be more than fifteen feet across and ten feet deep.
I pushed at the door. Opening my mouth to scream, I swallowed water.

I couldn’t see or hear Julie or Mike. My watch ticked. Or was it my heart beating?

Ba bum. Ba bum. Ba bum.

Darkness.

Silence.

Cold.

Wet.

Defying gravity.

Nothing.

The dreams came. Like a good sleep you don’t want to wake up from. I felt heavy and floaty. I wore this long white gauzy gown and the wind blew my dress and my hair like in some feminine hygiene commercial. I could breathe slowly and deeply. Completely relaxed and at peace, but I was alone.

I floated along in a white space for a while. Drifting. Breathing. Relaxing. Had I gone to a spa? After an immeasurable amount of time, others appeared. They wore white clothing, too, and they floated like me, reaching out. They opened their arms as if to welcome me to them.

I stopped and frowned. I heard no sound, and I didn’t know who these white floaty people were or why they welcomed me. They smiled, genuinely happy, and held their arms out to me. I panicked.

Where’s my mom? My family? Wait, Mike and Julie were just with me, where are they? Are those wings?
I noticed the others floating with me had white feathery wings.

“Lily,” one of them called out.

Holy hell. I’m dead.

Guest Author Constance Phillips: What Is It About Paranormal?

My guest today is Constance Phillips, a fellow member of the Maumee Valley Romance Writers of America chapter, and author of Fairyproof and Resurrecting Harry, both published by Crescent Moon Press.

Thank you, Susana, for having me on your blog today! It’s such a pleasure to talk about why I love paranormal.

I think the most common piece of advice a new author receives from a mentor is to “write what you know.” In the case of fiction, it’s “write what you read.” It seems logical, and is the path I’ve chosen to follow, but sometimes it feels like the inevitable evolution of my craft, instead of a path to follow.

I started reading romances as a teenager.  While I always enjoyed sci-fi television shows and movies and loved darker, paranormal writings outside of the romance genre, it wasn’t until a friend introduced me to Laurel K. Hamilton and her Anita Blake and Merry Gentry characters that I developed a hunger for paranormal romance.

Hamilton was a gateway author. I devoured her early books, flying through the first eight or nine books of the Vampire Hunter series in a few short months. I then moved on to authors like Sherriyn Kenyon and J.R. Ward, to name only a couple.

The more I read, the more my writing changed. I tried to introduce some darker paranormal elements into a contemporary piece I’d been working on. Later, I crafted my first paranormal manuscript —a vampire story. Like most other “first manuscripts” it still lives in pieces on my hard drive, not quite ready for an audience yet.

It wasn’t that I wanted to recreate their stories, but more that I’d become such a fan of the paranormal element. In my mind it takes the concept of forbidden love to a higher level, and gives new meaning to the words tall and dark.

I do still write contemporary manuscripts, just as I still read contemporary romance, but was honored to have Crescent Moon Press publish my first book Fairyproof, a paranormal/urban fantasy this past September. They will also be releasing Resurrecting Harry on March 1.

Are you drawn to paranormal books? Who are some of your favorite authors?

Fairyproof

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When Monique finds out her brother, Kieran, is planning her future with the one fairy she wants nothing to do with, she seeks refuge in the human world. Now Kieran fears she will be the next victim in a string of murdered fairies and is determined to bring her home.

Hiding should be a breeze. She can control any human with a flirtatious smile and an attraction spell. Until she meets Daniel Elliot, the only human who’s immune to both.

A year ago, Daniel’s fiancée disappeared with the engagement ring, an Elliot family heirloom. He’s ready to move forward with his life, but his mother’s obsession with retrieving the ring makes that impossible. Then Monique walks into his office to apply for a job.

Buy Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | All Romance E-books

A Sneak Peak: Resurrecting Harry

Devastated by Harry Houdini’s unexpected death, his widow, Bess, clings to his promise to deliver a coded message from beyond the grave.  She’s determined to provide the bridge for him to cross, just like she assisted him on the stage, even if that means befriending her husband’s sworn enemy.

In order to save the only woman he’s ever loved from self-destruction, Harry puts his afterlife on the line by entering a wager with purgatory’s keeper, who gives Harry a younger face and body, and a new name: Erich Welch. Even with Harry’s soul and memories, Erich feels out-of-place and disconnected from everything he once called his own.

Will Erich be able to help Bess recover from her loss and will any good come from resurrecting Harry?

Author Bio:

Constanc Phillips - SM

Constance Phillips lives in Ohio with her husband, two ready-to-leave-the-nest children, and four canine kids. Her perfect fantasy vacation would involve hunting Dracula across Europe with her daughter, who also digs that kind of stuff. When she’s not writing about fairies, shifters, vamps, and guardian angels, she’s working side-by-side with her husband in their hardwood flooring business.

Constance is actively involved in her local Romance Writers of America chapter (MVRWA) and the Southeast Michigan chapter of the United States Pony Club. When not writing or enjoying the outdoors, she loves reality television or can be found at a Rick Springfield concert (just look for the pink Converse high tops).

Constance blogs regularly at http://www.constancephillips.com. You can also follow her on Twitter or friend her on Facebook.