Showing results by author "Jennifer Miller" in All Categories

Exploring the Pockets of Movies and Life

Exploring the Pockets of Movies and Life

Exploring the Pockets of Movies and Life

Exploring the Pockets of Movies and Life

Exploring the Pockets of Movies and Life

Exploring the Pockets of Movies and Life

Exploring the Pockets of Movies and Life

Exploring the Pockets of Movies and Life

Exploring the Pockets of Movies and Life

Exploring the Pockets of Movies and Life

Exploring the Pockets of Movies and Life

Exploring the Pockets of Movies and Life

Exploring the Pockets of Movies and Life

Exploring the Pockets of Movies and Life

In the blink of an eye, my whole world has collapsed around me. Headed towards my dream vacation, I was snatched right out of the air. My husband, the love of my life, was destroyed right in front of my eyes. He fought bravely trying to protect me from a horror neither one of us could have ever imagined. I find myself standing in the spotlight on a stage.

Some people get tattoos - pieces of art that enhance or reveal something about them that they like. Other people, like me, are branded by something - actions or words. "No one will ever love you, Rowan, you're not worthy." Those are the words that created my blemish, my scar, my mark upon my soul. They were words whispered by the woman who should have loved me most.

Confident Parents, Confident Kids lays out an approach for helping parents - and the kids they love - hone their emotional intelligence so they can make wise choices, connect, and communicate well with others (even when patience wears thin), and become socially competent, confident human beings.

They stole my dreams, my hopes, my very identity, and I had no idea. Years went by and I did everything I was told, I was always the perfect specimen, and the perfect lab rat. I was dissected, even maimed all in the name of science. Then one day a strange smoky voice entered my head, and I knew things were not as they seemed. He promises me that he will never leave me, but my new memories tell me differently.

I awaken to the touch of cold metal hands and talking holograms. Paralyzed and dependent on the Others. They tell me a story . . . at first; I refuse to believe. A story of no return and extreme loss, but one of the voices is different. He projects anger and distrust . . . but his hands . . . even though cold and hard, are always gentle. I have come to crave the sound of his growls because I know within moments, he will hold me in his arms. When my sight returns. I was not prepared to see what he really was, but when he collapsed in front of me, his body failing.