Guest Author, Partners In Crime Tours, Showcase

Guest Author Giacomo Giammatteo

CMash September 15, 2012 2 Comments

Today is an exciting day for me. I have the honor and pleasure to introduce you to a new author, that I have met through Partners In Crime Tours, as we kick off his 2 month tour. Remember this name because after reading his book, I am sure you will be hearing a lot about him!! I would like you to meet Mr. Giacomo Giammatteo!!

GIACOMO GIAMMATTEO

I live in Texas now, but I grew up in Cleland Heights, a mixed ethnic neighborhood in Wilmington, Delaware that sat on the fringes of the Italian, Irish and Polish neighborhoods. The main characters of Murder Takes Time grew up in Cleland Heights and many of the scenes in the book were taken from real-life experiences.

Somehow I survived the transition to adulthood, but when my kids were young I left the Northeast and settled in Texas, where my wife suggested we get a few animals. I should have known better; we now have a full-blown animal sanctuary with rescues from all over. At last count we had 41 animals—12 dogs, a horse, a three-legged cat and 26 pigs.

Oh, and one crazy—and very large—wild boar, who takes walks with me every day and happens to also be my best buddy.

Since this is a bio some of you might wonder what I do. By day I am a headhunter, scouring the country for top talent to fill jobs in the biotech and medical device industry. In the evening I help my wife tend the animals, and at night—late at night—I turn into a writer.
Visit Giacomo at his Website, Facebook and Twitter.

ABOUT THE BOOK

A string of brutal murders has bodies piling up in Brooklyn, and Detective Frankie Donovan knows what is going on. Clues left at the crime scenes point to someone from the old neighborhood, and that isn’t good.

Frankie has taken two oaths in his life—the one he took to uphold the law when he became a cop, and the one he took with his two best friends when they were eight years old and inseparable.

Those relationships have forced Frankie to make many tough decisions, but now he faces the toughest one of his life; he has five murders to solve and one of those two friends is responsible. If Frankie lets him go, he breaks the oath he took as a cop and risks losing his job. But if he tries to bring him in, he breaks the oath he kept for twenty-five years—and risks losing his life.

In the neighborhood where Frankie Donovan grew up, you never broke an oath.
Read my review here.

Watch the trailer:

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1
Rule Number One―Murder Takes TimeBrooklyn, New York—Current Day
He sipped the last of a shitty cup of coffee and stared across the street at Nino Tortella, the guy he was going to kill. Killing was an art, requiring finesse, planning, skill—and above all—patience. Patience had been the most difficult to learn. The killing came naturally. He cursed himself for that. Prayed to God every night for the strength to stop. But so far God hadn’t answered him, and there were still a few more people that needed killing.The waitress leaned forward to refill his cup, her cleavage a hint that more than coffee was being offered. “You want more?”He waved a hand—Nino was heading towards his car. “Just the check, please.”
From behind her ear she pulled a yellow pencil, tucked into a tight bun of red hair, then opened the receipt book clipped to the pocket of her apron. Cigarette smoke lingered on her breath, almost hidden by the gum she chewed.Spearmint, he thought, and smiled. It was his favorite, too.He waited for her to leave, scanned the table and booth, plucked a few strands of hair from the torn cushion and a fingernail clipping from the windowsill. After putting them into a small plastic bag, he wiped everything with a napkin. The check was $4.28. He pulled a five and a one from his money clip and left them on the table. As he moved to the door he glanced out the window. Nino already left the lot, but it was Thursday, and on Thursdays Nino stopped for pizza.He parked three blocks from Nino’s house, finding a spot where the snow wasn’t piled high at the curb. After pulling a black wool cap over his forehead, he put leather gloves on, raised the collar on his coat then grabbed his black sports bag. Favoring his left leg, he walked down the street, dropping his eyes if he passed someone. The last thing he wanted was a witness remembering his face.He counted the joints in the concrete as he walked. Numbers forced him to think logically, kept his mind off what he had to do. He didn’t want to kill Nino. He had to. It seemed as if all of his life he was doing things he didn’t want to do. He shook his head, focused on the numbers again.When he drew near the house, he cast a quick glance to ensure the neighbors’ cars weren’t there. The door took less than thirty seconds to open. He kept his hat and gloves on, walked into the kitchen, and set his bag on the counter. He removed a pair of tongs and a shot glass, and set them on the coffee table.
A glance around the room had him straightening pictures and moving dirty dishes to the sink. A picture of an older woman stared at him from a shelf above an end table. Might be his mother, he thought, and gently set it face down. Back to the kitchen. He opened the top of the black bag and removed two smaller bags. He set one in the fridge and took the other with him.

The contents of the second bag—hair and other items—he spread throughout the living room. The crime scene unit would get a kick out of that. He did one final check, removed a baseball bat from the bag, then sat on the couch behind the door. The bat lay on the cushion beside him. While he stretched his legs and leaned back, he thought about Nino. It would be easy to just shoot him, but that wouldn’t be fair. Renzo suffered for what he did; Nino should too. He remembered Mamma Rosa’s warnings, that the things people did would come back to haunt them. Nino would pay the price now.

A car pulled into the driveway. He sat up straight and gripped the bat.

#
Nino had a smile on his face and a bounce in his step. It was only Thursday and already he’d sold more cars than he needed for the month. Maybe I’ll buy Anna that coat she’s been wanting. Nino’s stomach rumbled, but he had a pepperoni pizza in his hand and a bottle of Chianti tucked into his coat pocket. He opened the door, slipped the keys into his pocket, and kicked the door shut with his foot.

There was a black sports bag on the kitchen table. Wasn’t there before, Nino thought. A shiver ran down his spine. He felt a presence in the house. Before he could turn, something slammed into his back. His right kidney exploded with pain.

“Goddamn.” Nino dropped the pizza, stumbled, and fell to the floor. His right side felt on fire. As his left shoulder collided with the hardwood floor, a bat hit him just above the wrist. The snap of bones sounded just before the surge of pain.

“Fuck.” He rolled to the side and reached for his gun.

The bat swung again.

Nino’s ribs cracked like kindling. Something sharp jabbed deep inside him. His mouth filled with a warm coppery taste. Nino recognized the man who stood above him. “Anything you want,” he said.
“Just kill me quick.”

#
The bat struck Nino’s knee, the crunch of bones drowned by his screams. The man stared at Nino. Let him cry. “I got Renzo last month. You hear about that?”

Nino nodded.

He tapped Nino’s pocket with his foot, felt a gun. “If you reach for the gun, I’ll hit you again.”

Another nod.

He knelt next to Nino, took the shot glass from the coffee table. “Open your mouth.”

Nino opened his eyes wide and shook his head.

The man grabbed the tongs, shoved one end into the side of Nino’s mouth, and squeezed the handles, opening the tongs wide. When he had Nino’s mouth pried open enough, he shoved the shot glass in. It was a small shot glass, but to Nino it must have seemed big enough to hold a gallon. Nino tried screaming, but couldn’t. Couldn’t talk either, with the glass in there. Nino’s head bobbed, and he squirmed. Nothing but grunts came out—fear-tinged mumbles coated with blood.

The man stood, glared at Nino. Gripped the bat with both hands. “You shouldn’t have done it.”

A dark stain spread on the front of Nino’s pants. The stench of excrement filled the room. He stared at Nino, raised the bat over his head, and swung. Nino’s lips burst open, splitting apart from both sides. Teeth shattered, some flying out, others embedding into the flesh of his cheeks. The shot glass exploded. Glass dug deep gouges into his tongue, severing the front of it. Shards of glass pierced his lips and tunneled into his throat.

He stared at Nino’s face, the strips of torn flesh covered in blood. He gulped. Almost stopped. But then he thought about what Nino had done, and swung the bat one more time. After that, Nino Tortella lay still.

He returned to the kitchen and took a small box from the bag on the counter then went back to the living room. Inside the box were more hairs, blood, skin, and other evidence. He spread the items over and around the body then made a final trip to the kitchen to clean up. He undressed and placed his clothes into a large plastic bag, tied it, and set it inside the black bag. He took out a change of clothes, including shoes and plastic covers for them. Careful not to step in any blood, he went back to stand over the body.

Nino lay in his own piss, shit, and blood, eyes wide-open, mouth agape.

You should never have done it, Nino.

He blessed himself with the sign of the cross while he repeated the Trinitarian formula. “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.” Then he shot Nino. Once in the head. Once in the heart. An eye for an eye. And then some.

Before stepping out the door, he removed the plastic covers for his shoes, placed them into the bag, then closed and locked the door behind him. The wind had picked up since he arrived, bringing a cold bite with it. He turned his collar up and tucked his head into his chest.
Forgive me, Father, for what I have done.

He walked two more blocks, almost to the car, when an image of Donnie Amato appeared in his head.

And for what I still have to do.

Purchase links: AMAZON link B&N link

Check out his tour schedule here and enter for a chance to win his book.

THANKS TO AUTHOR, GIACOMO GIAMMATTEO, I HAVE
ONE (1) COPY OF HIS THRILLING BOOK TO GIVEAWAY.
OPEN TO RESIDENTS OF THE U.S., CANADA, & UK

CLICK HERE TO BRING YOU TO
THE GIVEAWAY ENTRY PAGE.

DISCLAIMER
I received a copy of this book, at no charge to me,
in exchange for my honest review.
No items that I receive
are ever sold…they are kept by me,
or given to family and/or friends.
ADDENDUM
I do not have any affiliation with Amazon.com or
Barnes & Noble. I am an IndieBound affliate.
I am providing link(s) solely for visitors
that may be interested in purchasing this Book/EBook.

Guest Author, Showcase, WOW Tours

Guest Author Destiny Allison

CMash August 13, 2012 1 Comment

Robyn, our friend from WOW, has come back to visit us today and as usual, has brought a very multi talented and impressive female author to introduce us to, Ms. Destiny Allison. So without further ado, let’s welcome them to the CMash blog!

DESTINY ALLISON

Destiny Allison is an artist, a business woman and a writer. Her work is collected by public institutions and private individuals internationally. In addition to her numerous awards for excellence in art, she was also recently named Santa Fe Business Woman of the year for 2011.

In addition to being a full time artist, she is also a managing partner in La Tienda at Eldorado — a commercial complex, community center, and arts center inSanta Fe,NM.

She is represented in prominent galleries across the country and owns her own gallery, Destiny Allison Fine Art, located at La Tienda.

Allison’s first love was writing. Her first poems were published while she was a child and she received numerous awards during adolescence. The story of how she became a visual artist is told in her book, Shaping Destiny: A quest for meaning in art and life. While her focus over the last 20 years has been primarily on sculpture, Allison also paints on steel using acids and natural oxidation, and in acrylics.

The eloquence of Allison’s language dates back to her childhood when art was constantly discussed and debated by her father, a writer, and her mother, a painter. Born and raised inSanta Fe,N.M., Allison moved toBostonafter college where she worked as a freelance journalist while raising her three children. It was there that she discovered her voice through sculpture. Predominantly self-taught, Allison apprenticed at a bronze foundry in Massachusetts, and later taught sculpture at the Attleboro Museum of Art and the Fuller Museum of Art, both in Massachusetts. In 1997, Allison returned toSanta Fewhere she currently resides.
Connect with Destiny Allison at her website here.

GUEST AUTHOR POST

Our lives are our greatest works of art:

This morning I woke to possibility. Sun and birds, the sight of my husband opening his arms to me as I staggered one-eyed into the kitchen, the sound of my dogs rising to greet me, and the smell of breakfast gone cold overwhelmed my senses like the first strokes of vivid color on the vast white of a blank canvas. What picture will I paint today?

Will I push the dogs away as they nuzzle against me? Will I ask my husband why he didn’t wait for me to join him for breakfast? Will I rub the sleep out of my eyes and settle into my computer chair to greet the day electronically – placing emails and analytics over the realities of my life? Will I let habit win, or will I do something different? What would the day look like if I made time to kiss my husband deeply or dropped to the ground to play with my loving mutts?

It seems that every minute of every day, I am faced with these kinds of choices. Most of the time, my decisions are out of habit or necessity. My husband is ok with his quick hug and the dogs never seem to mind when I ignore them. They all know my routines and understand that I will greet them, if there is time, once my eyes are fully open. But what if I surprised them? What if I surprised myself?

Making art is wrought with similar questions. Every day I am faced with the possibilities of a blank canvas, a blank screen, or the cold grey sheets of metal on the floor of my blackened studio. What will I make today? In art, every line and plane matter. A sculpture that leans as little as an eighth of an inch must be cut apart and re-welded. In sculpture, balance is everything. When I muddy a canvas because I was impatient, I kill the painting.

The challenge of being an artist is that I never really know where I’m going until I get there. I have to listen to the voices inside me as they manifest on canvas, page, or metal. I have to throw away all the junk that comes to the surface as I try to find that one shining thread I am called to follow.

I believe that living my life is just like making art. When I listen, am not afraid to try new things, and clear my junk (habit, self-indulgence, and my need to control), my life becomes rich, clear, and filled with meaning. When I don’t, days blend into a long, running stream of muddy memories and my life is without form.

The beauty of living life like making art is that everything matters and contributes to the whole. The kiss we shared in the kitchen forms shape of my day. That couple of minutes on the rug wrestling my dogs becomes an ongoing joy that balances mundane frustrations. Over time, those moments shared deeply and authentically with my husband and dogs become some of the lines, planes, and colors of my life. My junk will always be in the way, but if I want my art to speak and my life to be art, I have to clear it to the best of my ability. Then, my life will have form, my smile will be contagious, and my days will be wrought with meaning.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Shaping Destiny is the inspiring story of Allison’s life from the creation of her first sculpture to her acceptance into a prominentSanta Feart gallery. The book, which recounts her journey from traditional female roles to self-actualization and independence, is told with three voices: the emotional, the intellectual and the instructional. Though she had no formal training, Allison moved quickly from small, Plasticine clay sculptures to an apprenticeship at a foundry to teaching in a small museum. Along the way, the author wrestled with shedding and then reclaiming family. To add to the extended metaphor binding her story to the theory and language of sculpture, Allison infuses an ample dose of popular philosophy in lessons culled from childhood days spent with her father. The 22 lessons at the beginning of each chapter intend to guide readers’ passage through the complexities of clay and life; each lesson works with the idea that art is a process, as is life.

Watch the trailer:

THANKS TO AUTHOR, DESTINY ALLISON, I HAVE
ONE (1) SIGNED COPY OF HER MEMOIR TO GIVE
AWAY. OPEN TO U.S. AND CANADA RESIDENTS

CLICK HERE TO BRING YOU TO
THE GIVEAWAY ENTRY PAGE.

DISCLAIMER
No items that I receive
are ever sold…they are kept by me,
or given to family and/or friends.

Guest Author, Showcase, Tribute Books

Guest Author Barbara Lampert

CMash July 17, 2012 2 Comments

This is the first time in my life that we haven’t had a dog as part of our family. And if you do have pets, you know, that they do become a family member. Plus having been in the medical field, I have seen the amazing effect dogs have with patients. So when Nicole from Tribute Books contacted me, it was an instant yes for me to host the author of this book. So please help me welcome Barbara Lampert and Charlie to our group.

BARBARA LAMPERT and CHARLIE

Barbara Lampert is a Marriage and Family Therapist specializing in relationships. She’s been in private practice in Brentwood, California for over twenty years. She considers her work a calling and loves what she does. She has a doctorate in medical sociology and two master’s degrees – one in psychology and one in sociology.

Barbara has adored dogs her whole life. They’re her passion! She considers them the magic on the planet. Barbara has had dogs most of her life and hopes to have at least one by her side always. She notes that for a lot of people, their dogs are their best friends. She loves helping people know that’s ok – that a soul-satisfying relationship may be found with any being and needs to be treasured.

Besides her love of dogs, Barbara is an avid gardener and finds herself gardening in much of her spare time. She sees her garden as a work of art. She loves being in nature – the miracle of growth, the ever-changing landscape, its beauty.

Today Barbara lives happily in Malibu, California with her husband David (married twenty-eight years!) and their six-year-old Golden Retriever, Harry.
The blog tour site is:
Barbara hopes that Charlie: A Love Story will be a tribute not only to a magnificent dog but to all dogs everywhere.
The blog tour site is: http://charlie-a-love-story.blogspot.com/

GUEST POST

CMash: I have seen where dogs are brought to nursing homes. So a post either about and/or the premise of “How, why, and what animals can provide and what the effects are when used in that type of setting.”

Thank you so much for having me on your site and giving me an opportunity to discuss bringing dogs into nursing homes and the benefit of dogs in that setting. Nursing homes were the first to make use of therapy dogs. To the best of my knowledge, that practice began about thirty years ago.

Have you ever visited a nursing home? For the most part, they are not happy places, so anything that can be done to bring joy and love into them and to the people who inhabit them is wonderful. To bring dogs into this setting is extraordinarily intelligent. But it has to be the right kind of dog – not every dog will be able to handle this type of setting.

Commonly known as therapy dogs, dogs who visit nursing homes must first have passed the Canine Good Citizen test, which means that they have to be well-mannered and comfortable in a variety of situations and with a variety of people.

The most essential attribute of a therapy dog is a good temperament – being friendly, patient, confident, gentle, and at ease in all situations. When a dog lacking a good temperament is put under stress, poor behavior will surface. Most people believe that a therapy dog is born and not made, though it is not impossible to teach some better behaviors. But I tend to agree with the “born and not made” theory. I am a psychotherapist, licensed twenty-two years, and have been curious about people all my life. As near as I can tell, temperament doesn’t change. Behaviors can, but temperament no.

Having had dogs most of my life, I can think of only two of them who would have made good therapy dogs. Their temperaments were perfect for the role. Both were Golden Retrievers, were calm in the face of chaos, loved all kinds of people, were fine in and actually looked forward to new situations, had a calming effect on people, and made people feel better just by their presence. The effect that both of these dogs had on people was a sight to behold. People they encountered would within a few seconds of meeting them have big smiles on their faces. These two would have been perfect therapy dogs in nursing homes.

Another characteristic of good therapy dogs, I’ve heard, is that they should not be too attached to their owners but instead should be more interested in exploring the world and the people in it. Again thinking of those two dogs of mine, that makes sense to me.

While in one respect Charlie, my Golden Retriever who is the subject of my book Charlie: A Love Story, would have made a good therapy dog, because he was so emotionally wise and intuitive and loved to make people laugh, he was much too attached to me. Far more interested in being with me than being out in the world meeting people and exploring new situations. Lucky me! How blessed I was to have had this magnificent being bonded with me! My very own therapy dog!

A good therapy dog offers comfort and companionship, soothes the agitated and fearful, engages with the isolated, and may even bring laughter to the sad and lonely. A good therapy dog does not discriminate against someone in a wheelchair, or the really old or disheveled but rather gives abundant, unconditional love and acceptance to such people, which in turn can not only calm but heal. It can be very soul-satisfying for a disabled or elderly person to pet the fur of one of these dogs and experience at least a connection, to express affection to some living being who in turn gives this person unconditional love. For a brief moment, this individual may be transported to a happier place, the day-to-day sadness and loneliness temporarily interrupted. Healing? I’d say so.

Again, thank you! It’s been a pleasure discussing this very good topic about man’s (and woman’s) truly best friend.

CMash: First, Thank you for visiting. Very interesting post, which I enjoyed and hope my readers do as well. Being a former RN and my last job was working in geriatrics, I did see, on many occasions, the Big Smile that you mentioned. The Nursing Home where I worked did utilize Pet Therapy on a routine basis.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Charlie: A Love Story tells of the beautiful love between Charlie, a Golden Retriever, and the author, Barbara Lampert. It takes place in Malibu, California. When Charlie turned eleven years old and started having some health problems, a journal Barbara was keeping about her garden quickly became mostly about Charlie. Charlie: A Love Story is an intimate look at an incredible connection between a canine and a human. And as a psychotherapist who specializes in relationships, Barbara brings that sensibility and understanding to Charlie’s story as well. Charlie was Barbara’s loyal confidante and best friend. He was indomitable, had a zest for life and an uncanny emotional intelligence. Charlie: A Love Story is about devotion, joy, loss, and renewal, about never giving up or giving in. But mostly it’s about an extraordinary dog and an extraordinary relationship.

THANKS TO AUTHOR, BARBARA LAMPERT, AND
TRIBUTE BOOKS, I HAVE ONE (1) COPY OF THIS
BOOK TO GIVEAWAY. U.S. RESIDENTS ONLY.

CLICK HERE TO BRING YOU TO
THE GIVEAWAY ENTRY PAGE.

DISCLAIMER
No items that I receive
are ever sold…they are kept by me,
or given to family and/or friends.

Guest Author, Showcase, WOW Tours

Guest Author Barbara Conelli

CMash July 13, 2012 Leave a Comment

I love doing tours with the ladies from WOW! I have hosted and reviewed books by very talented women authors because of Robyn and Jodi. And today is no exception. Robyn is stopping by to introduce us to another amazing writer. However, today is going to be packed with a lot of fun stuff. So get comfortable and enjoy!! I present Ms. Barbara Conelli! Welcome!!

BARBARA CONELLI

Barbara Conelli is an internationally published bestselling author, seasoned travel writer specializing inItaly, and Chiquenist on the mission to bring Fantastic Fearless Feminine Fun into women’s lives. In her charming, delightful and humorous Chique Books filled with Italian passion, Barb invites women to exploreItalyfrom the comfort of their home with elegance, grace and style, encouraging them to live their own Dolce Vita no matter where they are in the world.

Barb learned to read and write at the age of four, and a year later, she wrote her first bestselling book that became a big hit in local kindergartens. She turned into an overnight success that lasted for twelve exciting hours. Since then, she has never separated from her writing endeavors. Barb writes even in her sleep and she can often be seen sitting on her bed atthree a.m.with a flashlight frantically processing her somnambulant ideas. A born nomad and adventurer, she’s been there, she’s done it, and she’s not afraid to write about it.

An entertaining storyteller, Barb has a unique ability to capture the magical atmosphere of the places she writes about. Through the pages of her books, Barb takes your hand and guides you through the irresistible beauty, captivating secrets, unrepeatable spell and fugitive moments ofItaly. She makes them come alive easily and spontaneously, and her writing is like a magic carpet that carries you toItalyand back in the blink of an eye. She introduces you to fascinating women who have created the face ofItaly, lifts the shroud of their mysteries, and reveals adorable places off the beaten track where the authentic Italian heart hasn’t stopped beating.

As a naturally curious person who loves traveling, meeting new people and discovering their life stories, Barbara founded Chique Show, an entertaining radio show for women and about women. On Chique Show, Barbara shares her Dolce Vita adventures and interviews inspiring women authors and experts who show listeners how to live their sweet life with gusto.

Barb lives betweenNew York and Milan, and as a real globetrotter, she’s always on the move, accompanied by her adorable and very spoiled beagle. To her, writing is like breathing, and she’s currently working on her new book.
Visit Barbara at her websites here and here.

Barbara is running two (2) contests on her blog:

An Italian Phrase contest

Learn Italian (and win a prize!)
Every Tuesday & Thursday from now through August 23, 2012 Barbara will be posting a new Italian word (+ audio)

Visit Barbara’s blog (http://barbaraconelliblog.com/category/writers-life/find-the-phrase-contest/) every Tuesday & Thursday to see and hear a new Italian word. At the end of the tour put all the words together into a phrase and enter it at Barbara’s blog site (http://www.barbaraconelli.com/findthephrase.htm). One winner will be drawn from those with the correct phrase. Prize is a chique leather wallet!

Contest is open internationally. Words will be posted along with audio link. Winner will be announced Thursday, August 23, 2012.

Essay Contest
If I Lived in Italy I Would…

What would you do if you lived in Italy? Dream big and start writing!

Your essay should be as long as you need it to be to express yourself! Submit your essays at the Essay Contest page at Barbara’s blog (http://www.barbaraconelli.com/essaycontest.htm). One winner will be chosen to receive a Chique Kindle Sleeve!

Barbara will be hosting her own Q & A on her radio show; here are the links to pages where readers can submit their questions.

Questions on writing and publishing on July 20
http://www.barbaraconelli.com/writingandpublishing.htm

Questions about Italy and travel on August 17:
http://www.barbaraconelli.com/italyandtravel.htm

Then tune in to the Chique Show on July 20^th and August 17^th for the pre-recorded sessions. http://www.barbaraconelli.com/radio.htm

ABOUT THE BOOK

When we talk about “the city of love”, most of us immediately think of Paris,

Venice, Rome or another famous metropolis whose romantic stories we know from movies and novels. But to Barbara Conelli, none of them are the real city of love. To the author, love doesn’t mean passionate gestures, big promises of eternal devotion, ardent embraces, torrid kisses, or stormy arguments followed by even stormier reconciliations.

To the author, love means something completely different and much simpler.

The smell of morning cappuccino and fresh pannetone at Pasticceria Marchesi. A

brisk stroll through the awakening city and sensual curves of gold shadows on the wet paving of Via della Spiga. Joyful shouts of bohemian artists and their graceful muses at Fornace Curti. A crispy panzerotto savored in the company of cantankerous pigeons on the piazzetta of San Fedele. Old furniture stores in narrow streets and adorable trinkets she can never resist. The tinkling of a tram from 1929 with uncomfortable wooden seats and a hundred-year-old conductor. Sublime flamingos and peevish peacocks in an emerald-green garden that has never been owned by anyone. Remote nooks and crannies whose secrets have been revealed only to her and the few ghosts with aristocratic hearts who appear in them from time to time. Visionary dreams, inextinguishable hopes, the desire to live, the courage to create, the strength to grow.

To the author, love means all this and much more. This and much more is

what she receives from the city that makes you fall in love a hundred times a day,

breaking your heart over and over again, only to make it beat faster five minutes

later. Milan. Barbara’s city of love. The city she has adored since the year dot

because it’s just like her: it has dozens of faces, it laughs and cries at the same time, it’s vain, unpredictable, and you never know what mood it wakes up with.

Join Barbara Conelli and submerge yourself in the secrets of this magical city

that has been breathing love for centuries. Love that is dignified, childish, creative, treacherous, passionate, painful, forgiving, crazy, insane, unbridled, endless, fleeting, unfaithful, platonic, carnal, hateful, desperate, volatile, conceited, and divine. The kind of love whose chalice you quickly drain, so that on the next corner, you can reach for another one, even more delicious and intoxicating.

THANKS TO THE GENEROSITY OF AUTHOR, BARBARA CONELLI,
I HAVE ONE (1) TOTE BAG TO GIVE AWAY. OPEN TO ALL.

IN ADDITION, EVERY PERSON WHO LEAVES A
COMMENT ON THIS PAGE (YOU MUST LEAVE AN
EMAIL ADDRESS) WILL BE ELIGIBLE FOR
A DOWNLOADABLE GIFTBAG CONSISTING OF:
Chique Virtual Tour: The Secret Gems of Italy Every Woman Must Know
1st five chapters of Chique Secrets of Dolce Vita
1st five chapters of Chique Secrets of Dolce Amore
Chique Blog Tour Special Gift (Only for the tour!): E-Book: The Most Romantic Chique Places to Fall in Love in (and with) Milan

CLICK HERE TO BRING YOU TO
THE CMash GIVEAWAY ENTRY PAGE.

DISCLAIMER
I received a copy of this book, at no charge to me,
in exchange for my honest review.
No items that I receive
are ever sold…they are kept by me,
or given to family and/or friends.

Guest Author, Partners In Crime Tours, Showcase

Guest Author Helga Zeiner

CMash July 8, 2012 1 Comment

Today I am elated to have the opportunity to reintroduce you to my guest. Please indulge me so that I can explain why I am beyond thrilled.

Helga was a guest author back in May. At the time, I was behind in my requested review reading schedule and was unable to read and review her book. However, we traded emails regarding her showcase. She asked me about Partners In Crime Tours and decided to book a tour. I have since read her book and it is riveting!! Could not put it down.

Not only is she an amazing writer but a very kind, generous and thoughtful person who I now consider a friend. And today is her kick off and first stop as she starts her 2 month tour. Please meet author and friend, Ms. Helga Zeiner!!

HELGA ZEINER

Helga Zeiner is a Canadian and German citizen

At the age of 18, Helga completed her arts degree at the Art School of Bavaria, and then left Germany.

She lived and worked for two years in Australia, and twelve years in Hong Kong.

Since 2004 she has lived with her husband Manfred in the wilderness of British Columbia, about 5 hours north of Vancouver. There they own over 500 acres which they have developed into a gated cabin community, the Rainbow Country Estate.

For as long as she can remember, Helga has been writing novels, usually in her spare time. Today most of her time is devoted to writing, but she also manages the land development company, is politically active, enjoys outdoor sports and loves smoking cigars.
You can visit Helga at her Website, and on Facebook, and Twitter.

GUEST POST

“How did I research this subject”

Since Section 132 was published, I have been complimented quite often on the extensive research I had undertaken for this novel. Although the story is fictional, it is based on true events which took place in Canada and America. I therefore felt compelled to get all the relevant details right before I could create a tale that would grip the reader and transport him into this weird and freaky world.

Readers have asked me how on earth one researches a polygamous sect. Go under-cover? Infiltrate them somehow? Get in touch with and interview women and teenagers who managed to escape? Or did I maybe, just maybe, write from personal experience? Had I possibly been a sister-wife myself?

Well, it’s not quite that spectacular. It simply took years of painstaking, traditional subject matter research. I worked diligently on collecting supporting facts. I read many books, biographies, anything I could find about the history of the Mormon religion and their off-shoot cult FLDS (Fundamentalist Church of Later Day Saints), the biography of its founder Joseph Smith, of their Prophet Warren Jeffs, as well as many accounts of women who had escaped the cult.

I closely followed a court case at the BC Supreme Court which had to decide if polygamy should be made legal in this Canadian province. This case was brought before the courts by the Bishop of the Canadian polygamous sectBountifulwho argued it on the grounds of religious freedom. Luckily, the judge ruled that polygamy is harmful to women and children and will therefore continue to be illegal.

Eventually I got hold of the ‘Book of Mormon’ and the attached “Doctrine & Covenants’ written by Josef Smith. There I found “Section 132’ which covers the holy covenant of ‘The Principle of Plural Marriage’ (polygamy!) and provides the religious justification for the strange rule that one man must have several wives. It was quite a read!

In the course of this research I got in touch with a wonderful group of University Women who have formed the ‘Bountiful Round-table’ as well as the ‘West Coast Leaf Lawyers Association’ – both groups are actively working toward their goal of banning polygamy in our society altogether.

Finally, I was contacted by members of a fairly clandestine organization who had heard about my efforts. As they are pro-active in rescuing women who try to escape the cult, they have met with some serious opposition in the higher echelons of the FLDS and have made quite a few enemies. They checked me out thoroughly before allowing me to join their closed group. I was honored to be able to collect further data this way. You can imagine what valuable insights, sometimes heart breaking and infuriating, I could gather through those channels.

All in all, it has taken me several years before I even wrote the first sentence. Although I have taken liberties with the truth and let my imagination run rampant, which is my prerogative as a novelist, there is still a very chilling element of authenticity in this story.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Lillian is only 13 when her parents marry her to a middle-aged Bishop of a fundamentalist sect who practices polygamy. She is forced to live with her new husband’s many wives and children on his compound tucked away in the Canadian wilderness.

The hardships of poverty and isolation have crushed the will of just about everybody in his flock. They suffer in silent submissiveness, trying to please their despotic leader. He justifies the humiliating treatment of his dependents by citing ‘Section 132 of the Doctrine & Covenants’ of his fundamentalist religion.

Until, one day, Lillian had enough. But it is dangerous to try and escape the Bishop’s iron rule. He practices blood-atonement, which is quietly sanctioned by the ‘Gatekeepers’, an American secret society within the Fundamentalist Mormon Church.

Lillian must find out-side help if she ever wants to leave the Bishop’s compound – but how can she do this if she is locked up without any means of communication?

Lillian doesn’t know how life outside a compound functions. She only knows that she can not live like this much longer. Many questions plaque her troubled mind.

Why do her sister-wives put up with this hardship, knowing only a bleak future lies ahead of them? Where do the child-brides come from, the Bishop keeps adding to his family? Where do some of his daughters disappear to, once they come of age? Lillian’s defiance grows with every injustice she witnesses – until she can’t hide her rebellion any longer.

Her desperate struggle to escape draws the reader into a very dark, very dangerous place. But not all is hopeless. When land developer Richard Bergman buys the neighboring property, Lillian’s luck seems to be changing …

Read an excerpt:

Martha knew the Bishop was coming for her. His boots stomped toward the office, and when he unlocked the door, she moved back to the opposite wall, trying to melt into it. The room was only about ten feet deep, and he was threateningly close as soon as he had entered. She saw the gun strap slung over his shoulder. Marion was beside him, her face still wet from crying, but already setting into a mask of acceptance and denial. Empty eyes buried in a stone hard expression. With only minimal movement of her body, she looked like a motionless statue, placed there only as an accessory to her husband, an extension of his wrath, coming alive only to cater to his demands. For the moment, he needed nothing of her except to observe him in all his glory as the executor of the faith.
Martha was not scared of him, but she was terrified of the unknown. What cruelty had he planned for her? Would she have to suffer long? It would be easier to bear if she knew what to expect.
She didn’t have to wait long.
“Get out of here, you worthless piece of shit!” he snapped at her. He slipped the gun strap off his shoulder and casually swung the hunting rifle in front of his massive torso like a trophy. “Here, see this! Fear this! It is the Lord’s instrument of vengeance. He has appointed me to be his executioner. Commanded me to exterminate filthy vermin like you. Get out, you slut, so I can punish you for your sins!” He came closer, lowered the weapon and prodded her thigh with the tip of the rifle. Martha jumped sideways and was forced to move forward and slide past him to the door.
He directed her with his weapon. “Bitch! Out with you! Outside! We don’t want a mess in here. Out you go, you miserable creature! I’ll show you who your master is. Move it, bitch, don’t drag your feet.”
Martha moved a little faster. She was numb, didn’t even feel herself walking past Marion who remained grotesquely frozen in her stance.
The Bishop kept pushing her forward, down the hallway, to the back entrance of the house. “Go, go, go. Let’s have a little target practise. You’d better move a bit faster, or it won’t be fun at all. Outside you go.”
He pushed her through the back door and out into the yard. “When I count to three, you run. If you make it over there, I’ll let you live. The Lord will decide.”
The distance from the house to the trees was much larger than she remembered. But it didn’t matter; he would get her anyway. Best to go slow, otherwise he might miss and only injure her.
“One!”
Martha took a deep breath. He slammed his rifle painfully into her back. She nearly lost her balance.
“Two!”
She forgot her resolution to be an easy target and instinctively started to run.
“Threeeee….”
She ran as fast as she could, trying to get away from his horrible ‘eeeee’. She practically flew over the ground, driven by her survival instinct, until she stumbled, lost her balance and fell face down on the ground. A sharp slash whipped viciously through her whole body, ripping her insides apart. She was surprised to hear herself groaning, although the excruciating pain of a moment ago subsided into shocked numbness. He had not finished her! Mixed into her total confusion of being shot at, lying on the ground and not feeling any pain, was the realization that something did not fit into the whole scenario. Something did not make sense. She had heard him counting and his final endless, blood curling “eeeeeeeee” still rang in her ears. She was on her knees now, slumped forward to steady herself with her hands, and turning sideways to look behind her.
He was also on the ground, holding his side with one hand, the rifle lying next to him. His “eeeeee” had evaporated into a whimper. At the same instant Martha saw the shape of a woman running away from him. Nothing but billowing skirts in a hasty retreat, impetuously heading for the protection of the trees. Anna! Already she had reached the trees. A safe haven for the fleeing Anna; as it would be for her, if she could reach it before he recovered from the injury Anna had inflicted on him. He was already shaking his head like a wounded bear, groaning in an effort to get the nasty foreign object that incapacitated him out of his flank. Martha did not see what had injured him so badly that the air had been knocked out of his lungs, but it must have weakened him considerably. He was wheezing, coughing and gurgling in his angry attempts to regain his stability and was slowly steadying himself.
If only she had not been hurt – if only she could reach the cover of the forest before he recovered from the surprise attack. She forced herself to try and scramble to her feet, surprised that she was still in one piece and not cut into two like she had thought. Where did it hurt? Even more surprised, she realized that she was not hurting at all. Her brain finally solved the mystery that had puzzled her before. No shot had been fired! On his last count she had only heard his scream but no shot – no bullet had been flying in her direction. She had stumbled and fallen, that was all. The pain had been imaginary.
By now her legs were firmly on the ground, holding her weight, and she started to run. She looked back once and increased her efforts to reach the tree line when she saw that he was already on his knees, groping blindly for his weapon. She literally flew across the yard, her skirt bunched up high, with her feet barely touching the ground. The forest. The trees. There they were. She ran past the first few trees, getting deeper into the woods before she pressed herself behind one wide trunk, panting heavily. She dared to look back. He was nowhere to be seen. He had moved. Where to? She knew her panting was too loud, but she could not stop it, her lungs were screaming for oxygen.
It was mercifully dark in the forest, but he only needed to follow the wheezing sounds she made to find her. Anger welled up inside her. She wanted to live! Why hadn’t Anna finished him! She must have been too weak. If only she had a weapon. The frustration of being so helpless made her even more angry. I will fight him, she thought. This time, I will scratch his eyes out before he can hurt me again. Martha slid down the tree trunk until she cowered on the wet cold ground, making herself as small a target as possible. She concentrated on the sounds of the night. He was injured and furious, he would not approach like a seasoned hunter but would storm through the darkness in search of her. When she heard him coming, she could hide or run away from him. She wasn’t quite sure what she would do, but this time she would not make it easy for him.

Book Details:
Published by POW WOW Books
Publication Date: July 1, 2011
Genre: Suspense
ISBN-10: 0986879800
ISBN-13: 978-0986879807
Number of pages: 458
Purchase links: Amazon link B&N link

THANKS TO THE GENEROSITY OF AUTHOR, HELGA ZEINER,
I HAVE ONE (1) EBOOK EDITION TO GIVE AWAY.

CLICK HERE TO BRING YOU TO THE
GIVEAWAY ENTRY PAGE. OPEN TO ALL.

DISCLAIMER
I received a copy of this book, at no charge to me,
in exchange for my honest review.
No items that I receive
are ever sold…they are kept by me,
or given to family and/or friends.
ADDENDUM
I do not have any affiliation with Amazon.com,
Barnes & Noble and/or any other retail/wholesale
outlets either online and/or elsewhere.
I am providing this link solely for visitors
that may be interested in purchasing this Book/EBook.
I do not receive any monetary compensation from any parties

Guest Author, Showcase

Guest Author Gary Kassay

CMash July 6, 2012 Leave a Comment

If you are a regular follower of my blog, then you know that I love a great mystery. So when Amy from Sapphire Star Publishing contacted me regarding today’s guest and after reading the synopsis of his book, I wanted to hear more. Please join me in welcoming Gary Kassay to the CMash blog!!

GARY KASSAY

Gary Kassay, author of the Duke Becker Series, is a former member of the NYPD Transit K-9 Unit. Besides a career as a Police Officer, he has been the owner of a commercial photo company, an X-ray tech for humans and animals, and a TSA employee. He now resides in Casper, Wyoming with his wife Raella, three dogs, and one black cat.

When Gary is not working on the next installment of his Duke Becker series, he enjoys spending quiet times with his wife, reading, and when there isn’t snow on the ground, a good round of golf.

GUEST POST

First I would like to thank Cheryl Masciarelli for allowing me to do a guest blog. It is greatly appreciated and couldn’t have come at a better time. Yesterday was the release of the first in the Duke Becker Series, Murder in Silence. My publishing company, Sapphire Star Publishing has been fantastic and I hope that you will check out the book. Many of my ideas for plots and characters come from experiences and people that I have met. Then there is the other way.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.
Edgar Allan Poe

I dream every night, nights when I fall into a deep sleep, which is rare, nights when I am aware that I am in bed sleeping and yet dreaming and nights when I lay awake, my mind still forming dreams. Sometimes they are very soothing, happy dreams of times past, people I have known and loved or so ridiculous that I actually laugh out loud, (as I have been told by my wife). These dreams are far and few between and they never lead to anything more than a smile and waking in a good mood.

It is the other dreams that visit upon me in the dark that affect me in many ways. Some are so disturbing that I wake from them in a cold sweat, my breath catching within my chest, fear sitting next to me in the dark. The worst of these are the dreams within a dream. I wake, upset and scared of something that my mind has conjured up, only to find that I am actually still within the dream world. Then upon waking, again, I lie in the dark trying to ascertain if I am finally really awake this time, or still in the clutches of my mind. Although quite frightening, these dreams sometimes give me inspiration on plot lines for future books.

Then there are the dreams that are so real, so descriptive in detail that even after waking I can remember most of them, even long into the day. These sometimes are frightening, sometimes pleasant, sometimes leaving me wondering about my sanity. There are times when the impossible happens…such as flying or defying other things in the real physical world. In any case these are my favorite dreams and the ones that give me the most ideas for future plots, characters and stories.

I wonder how many others, including the man whose quote appears at the top of this blog, have had their dreams lead them along, inspire them as well as frighten, or disappear upon waking like fog once the sun warms the air. In any case, I am very happy to dream and lucky to remember some of them. I look forward to my dreams, even the frightening ones because they lead me to places I would never have visited.

The world of Inspector Duke Becker, the detectives in his squad in the Special Investigations, Homicide unit, Dr. Elizabeth Cunningham and of course our murderer have come from a combination of dreams, experiences and people I have met. If you enjoy it then I will know that my dreams…even the scariest ones, are well worth it.

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ABOUT THE BOOK

Two police officers have been brutally killed by having their throats ripped out, but the wound appears to have been done with surgical precision. With no witnesses, no forensic evidence, and two bizarre clues to follow, the case falls to Inspector Duke Becker, head of the high profile Special Investigations Unit, Homicide.

Becker and his squad must find the killer before more cops are murdered. The case will lead Becker on a wild chase through the streets of New York City, back over 15 years into the past and to a cover-up that will rock City Hall.

Along with his brash, wildly dressed young partner, Jimmy Nova, the beautiful Michelle Goldman, Augie “Doggie” Rivera, and the Mutt and Jeff team of Bobby Green and Joe Robinson, Becker will need to enlist his boyhood friend in charge of CSU, Manny Velez.

Add a ruthless newswoman known to the NYPD as “”Wicked Witch Wilson” and a new love interest for Becker in the gorgeous and brilliant Dr. Elizabeth Cunningham, Becker is about to embark on the most difficult and dangerous case in his 20 plus years. Will Becker and his squad be able to catch the killer before more cops die or will the killer have the last laugh?

THANKS TO AUTHOR, GARY KASSEY, AND AMY FROM
SAPPHIRE STAR PUBLISHING, I HAVE TWO (2) EBOOK
EDITIONS OF THIS BOOK TO GIVE AWAY. OPEN TO ALL.

CLICK HERE TO BRING YOU TO
THE GIVEAWAY ENTRY PAGE.

DISCLAIMER
No items that I receive
are ever sold…they are kept by me,
or given to family and/or friends.

Book Review, Guest Author, Showcase, The Book Trib/Media Muscle

Guest Author Diane Chamberlain

CMash May 12, 2012 2 Comments

I am beyond thrilled today…..I AM ECSTATIC!!! Today’s guest is phenomenal. I was hooked when I read 2 of her previous books The Lies We Told and The Midwife’s Confession.

Please indulge me to tell you what I did. When the husband and I went on vacation last year, one of the books that I packed was The Midwife’s Confession. LOVED IT!! So when Steve surprised me with another trip back to Aruba around the same time we went last year, which we just returned from 3 days ago, I started my priority mental packing list. What books to take with us. There ARE priorities lol. Around the same time I found out about this year’s trip, Ms. Chamberlain “friended” me on GR. And I can’t believe what I did, but I did it. I emailed her in February, told her about Aruba and asked if there was a new book coming out and would she be on tour with it in the form of ARCs because I would love to participate. To my surprise and delight, she had her publisher send me a digital version. However, knowing it was tucked safely in my Kindle, I was too tempted and had to read it before our vacation. OMG!! LOVED IT!!! The only problem now…I have to wait until her next book.

So without further ado, the very talented best selling author, Ms. Diane Chamberlain!!!

ABOUT DIANE CHAMBERLAIN

I was an insatiable reader as a child, and that fact, combined with a vivid imagination, inspired me to write. I penned a few truly terrible “novellas” at age twelve, then put fiction aside for many years as I pursued my education.

I grew up in Plainfield, New Jersey and spent my summers at the Jersey Shore, two settings that have found their way into my novels.

In high school, my favorite authors were the unlikely combination of Victoria Holt and Sinclair Lewis. I loved Holt’s flair for romantic suspense and Lewis’s character studies as well as his exploration of social values, and both those authors influenced the writer I am today.

I attended Glassboro State College in New Jersey as a special education major before moving to San Diego, where I received both my bachelor’s and master’s degrees in social work from San Diego State University. After graduating, I worked in a couple of youth counseling agencies and then focused on medical social work, which I adored. I worked at Sharp Hospital in San Diego and Children’s Hospital in Washington, D.C. before opening a private psychotherapy practice in Alexandria, Virginia, specializing in adolescents. I reluctantly closed my practice in 1992 when I realized that I could no longer split my time between two careers and be effective at both of them.

It was while I was working in San Diego that I started writing. I’d had a story in my mind since I was a young adolescent about a group of people living together at the Jersey Shore. While waiting for a doctor’s appointment one day, I pulled out a pen and pad began putting that story on paper. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. I took a class in fiction writing, but for the most part, I “learned by doing.” That story, PRIVATE RELATIONS, took me four years to complete. I sold it in 1986, but it wasn’t published until 1989 (three very long years!), when it earned me the RITA award for Best Single Title Contemporary Novel. Except for a brief stint writing for daytime TV (One Life to Live) and a few miscellaneous articles for newspapers and magazines, I’ve focused my efforts on book-length fiction and am currently working on my nineteenth novel.

My stories are often filled with mystery and suspense, and–I hope–they also tug at the emotions. Relationships – between men and women, parents and children, sisters and brothers – are always the primary focus of my books. I can’t think of anything more fascinating than the way people struggle with life’s trials and tribulations, both together and alone.

In the mid-nineties, I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, a challenging disease to live with. Although my RA is under good control with medication and I can usually type for many hours a day, I sometimes rely on voice recognition technology to get words on paper. I’m very grateful to the inventor of that software! I lived in Northern Virginia until the summer of 2005, when I moved to North Carolina, the state that inspired so many of my stories and where I live with my significant other, photographer John Pagliuca. I have three grown stepdaughters, two sons-in-law, four grandbabies, and two shelties named Keeper and Jet.

For me, the real joy of writing is having the opportunity to touch readers with my words. I hope that my stories move you in some way and give you hours of enjoyable reading.
You can visit Ms. Chamberlain at her website and Facebook page.

GUEST POST

Using personal stories in writing: do or don’t?

Every writer has to decide for herself how autobiographical to make a novel. First novels often tend to be the most autobiographical because those personal stories are itching to be told. But what will the author write about for book two? Or three? Or twenty? I discovered early on that writing from personal experience didn’t serve me well. First, as thrilling as my personal stories were to me, I doubted they’d be that exciting to my readers—unless I told the really juicy ones, and I wasn’t going there! Second, personal stories rarely involve only one person, and I would never be comfortable writing about other “real people” in one of my books.

Even worse than using my own experience is using someone else’s. When I was a new writer, I also had a private psychotherapy practice. I decided not to tell any of my clients about my fledgling second career, not wanting them to worry I might use something they told me in confidence. However, after an article about me appeared in the local paper, I knew I had to come clean. I told every potential client that I was a fiction writer but would never use something I heard in my office in my writing. Then I allowed them to make the decision whether to work with me or not. Despite hearing some very intriguing/moving/amazing stories, I kept that promise.

What I do incorporate into my books, though, is what I’ve learned about people in general from my work as a social worker. For example, many of my books have a strong medical element in them influenced by my years as a hospital social worker, when I had the privilege of witnessing people at their most vulnerable, their most courageous, their most human. Although I never use specific people or situations in my novels, what I learned from working with people influences everything I write.

To follow Ms. Chamberlain’s tour and read more great posts, like above, click here !!!

ABOUT THE BOOK

Four years ago, nineteen-year-old Travis Brown made a choice: to raise his newborn daughter on his own. While most of his friends were out partying and meeting girls, Travis was at home, changing diapers and worrying about keeping food on the table. He’s never regretted his decision: Bella is the light of his life. But after Travis loses his job and his home, the security he’s worked so hard to create for his daughter begins to crumble. When he receives a job offer, he thinks his troubles have come to an end . . . not realizing that they’ve only just begun.

READ AN EXCERPT:

Meeting Bella
I was sipping coffee in my brown leather chair at JumpStart, typing a post to my Harley’s Dad group, the online support group that had become my lifeline since Carolyn’s death, when my iPad beeped to alert me to an email. It was from my supervisor, Gene, at the pharmacy. We’re looking forward to having you back a week from Monday, the email read. I guessed that was his way of not so subtly reminding me I was expected back. I was dreading my return to work, but now it was a matter of money as well as what my therapist called a “need to re-engage with the real world”. My Harley’s Dad friends were my real world, I told her. Nobody realer than the people who understood exactly how it felt to lose a child.

I was still a little afraid that I’d screw up at work the way I did the first time I tried to go back, when I’d given a customer the wrong medication. My head was clearer now and I wasn’t totally numb like I’d been in the beginning, but I was still overwhelmed by sadness and the thought of “re-engaging with the real world” tired me out.

Right, I answered Gene. See you then.

I was reading a post written by Harley’s Dad himself when, from the corner of my eye, I noticed a man and little girl come out of the men’s room and head for the counter. I sat up straight. Carolyn? Of course not. She didn’t even look like Carolyn, but in the irrational and sometimes scary part of my mind, I could manage to see my daughter in any little girl. Carolyn had been blond, though, while this child had brown hair. She held the man’s hand as they walked toward the counter. He was in his early twenties, I thought, barely. He was dressed in old jeans and a gray t-shirt with a dirty, once-white canvas bag slung over one shoulder. It seemed strange to see a man and child together in the coffee shop, especially on a weekday morning, and especially coming out of the men’s room together, although my husband, Michael, had taken Carolyn into the men’s room any number of times. Still, could this guy have kidnapped her? Was he abusing her? Maybe she needed me to rescue her?

Stop it, I told myself. The girl seemed perfectly at ease with him, holding his hand, leaning against his leg as he ordered something I couldn’t hear. Her hair was a little straggly and her bangs hung low over her eyes. She wore pale blue shorts, red sneakers, and a blue and white striped shirt. I could see a couple of stains on the front of it even from where I sat. A small pink purse hung from her arm, the same arm that clutched a stuffed animal to her chest. She was so darling. I didn’t want to look at her. The way I felt scared me. Seeing a little girl whole and alive filled me with such longing it was almost unbearable, and this one, with her straggly hair and dirty shirt, needed a little more TLC than she was getting. She looked like she needed a mommy.

I forced my gaze back to my iPad and started a new post on the support group.

I’m in a coffee shop, I typed, and a little girl just walked in with a man (her father?) and even though she doesn’t look like Carolyn, I thought it might be her. Guess I’m in crazy grieving mom mode right now! I hit send. I knew I’d get responses within a few minutes, and I could even predict what they would be. Other parents would relate similar experiences. Similar feelings. And I would feel less crazy. Less alone.

I looked up. The man and little girl were walking toward my small circle of furniture. The man sat down on the sofa and the girl climbed up next to him. He smiled at me and she tipped her head back a little to look at me from beneath her long bangs. Her eyes were huge and gray. The same gray as his, only his were fringed with thick black lashes. He was handsome, though tired looking, and the little girl was equally pretty beneath her messy hair. Father and daughter, most definitely.

“How’re you doin’?” He slid the canvas bag from his shoulder and rested it on the sofa next to him. “Is it always this quiet in here?”

I could barely breathe. I felt the way I had when I first saw a horse as a child. I’d been both fascinated and afraid, longing to move closer but fearful it might hurt me. If I looked at this little girl too long, I was afraid of how I’d feel, so I only brushed my gaze over her as I responded.

“It’s busy earlier in the morning,” I said, “and it’ll pick up again around lunchtime.”

I looked down at my iPad. No response yet to my post to the Harley’s Dad group.

“We’re new in town,” the man said. “I’m Travis and this is Bella.”

“I’m Erin.” I should have just said I was working. Tuned him out the way I tuned out the other people in the shop. Even the barista rarely tried to talk to me now beyond a “good morning,” and I guessed he thought I was pretty cold. But the little girl–Bella–felt like a magnet to me and try as I might not to look at her, my gaze kept drifting in her direction. She had me mesmerized by those big gray eyes. “She’s your daughter?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” He broke the muffin he’d bought into two parts, rested each half on a napkin, and handed one of them to Bella. She was almost dainty as she lifted the muffin to her mouth and took a bite from the corner.

I waited until she swallowed, then leaned forward in my chair. “How old are you, Bella?” I smiled at her and the smile felt anemic and shaky.

She didn’t answer. Shyly, she leaned closer to her father’s arm. The skin beneath her nose was a little red, the way Carolyn’s would get during allergy season.

“Answer Miss Erin,” the man said to her. “Tell her how old you are.”

Bella held up four fingers, a fat crumb from the muffin stuck to one of them. “Four,” she said. She noticed the crumb and nibbled it from her hand. Carolyn would have been four now, if she’d lived. Bella was a little small for four. Thin and waif-like.

“She just turned four a couple of weeks ago,” Travis said. Except for dark circles around his eyes, he was a very good-looking guy. If I’d been ten years younger, single and not completely miserable, he would have captivated me. Instead I was captivated by his daughter. “We didn’t have much of a party,” Travis added. “Things were a little rocky. So we’re going to celebrate when she turns four and a half, aren’t we Bella?”

Bella looked up at him and gave a nod. I wished she would smile. She didn’t look like a very happy child.

“She’s sleepy,” Travis said. We had a long drive yesterday and didn’t sleep too well last night.”

“Where did you move from?” I asked.

“Carolina Beach,” he said. “No work there, so we had no choice but to come to Raleigh.” He screwed up his face and I knew he wasn’t happy about the move. “I have a job lined up here, though. I interview with the guy tomorrow.”

“I hope you get it,” I said.

“Oh, it’s sewn up. The interview’s just a formality. A mutual friend hooked me up with him.” He handed Bella the cup of water he’d set on the coffee table. “Do you have kids?” he asked.

I shook my head. I felt Carolyn in the air around me, hurt and betrayed.

“Then you probably don’t know where I can find childcare for when I start working, huh?”

I shook my head again. It was the truth. I didn’t know the child care options in this new-to-me neighborhood. “Your wife’s not with you?” I asked.

“No wife,” he said. He pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket and blotted Bella’s nose in a way that told me he’d done it hundreds of times before. “It’s just me and Bella,” he said.

Had there been a wife? I wondered. Were they divorced? Did she die?

“So, is it nice around here?” he asked. “Bella and I are used to the beach, aren’t we, Bell? We’re not used to all the trees and the big buildings.”

“It’s nice,” I said. I was thinking of the fun places we used to take Carolyn. Monkey Joe’s and the kids’ museum and Pullen Park, but I couldn’t talk about them. I couldn’t let the image of Carolyn riding the train at Pullen Park into my head right then. “I hope the job’s a good one.”

“Me too,” he said. “We need a break.”

Yes, that’s how he looked. How both of them looked–like they’d been to hell and back and needed a break.

“Excuse me, Miss Erin,” Travis said, “but it’s story time.” He pulled a picture book from the canvas bag. Cat in the Hat. Michael and I had read every Dr. Seuss book to Carolyn too many times to count. I had the feeling Travis had read it to Bella many times, too, because the book jacket was ragged looking and slipping off the book itself. I watched Bella climb onto his lap as he opened the book. I remembered how it felt to hold a little girl in my arms that way. How it felt to have her lean back against me while I read. I felt the injustice of it all over again. I wanted my baby back.

I lowered my eyes to my iPad, glad Travis’s attention was now on the book and not me, because whatever was in my face wasn’t meant for anyone to see. The screen of my iPad blurred in front of me and I had to blink a few times before I could read the first response to my post.

Carolyn’s always with you, Harley’s Dad had written. She’s in that little girl and in the little girl’s father and in the air that you breathe. Remember that.

Yes, I thought. I looked over at Bella and Travis where they sat together, absorbed in the book, and I felt Carolyn slip over all three of us like a veil of warm air.

MY REVIEW WHICH WAS ORIGINALLY POSTED ON 02/23/12

THE GOOD FATHER by Diane Chamberlain
Published by Mira Books
Publication Date: April 24, 2012
ISBN-10: 0778313468
ISBN-13: 978-0778313465
At the generosity of the publisher, Mira Books, an ARC Digital Version was sent, at no cost to me, for my honest opinion.

Synopsis (borrowed from Amazon): A beloved daughter. A devastating choice. And now there’s no going back.
Four years ago, nineteen-year-old Travis Brown made a choice: to raise his newborn daughter on his own. While most of his friends were out partying and meeting girls, Travis was at home, changing diapers and worrying about keeping food on the table. But he’s never regretted his decision. Bella is the light of his life. The reason behind every move he makes.And so far, she is fed. Cared for. Safe.
But when Travis loses his construction job and his home, the security he’s worked so hard to create for Bella begins to crumble….
Then a miracle. A job in Raleigh has the power to turn their fortunes around. It has to. But when Travis arrives in Raleigh, there is no job, only an offer to participate in a onetime criminal act that promises quick money and no repercussions.
With nowhere else to turn, Travis must make another choice for his daughter’s sake.

My Thoughts and Opinion: I feel I need to start this review off with a caveat and a huge THANK YOU to author, Ms. Diane Chamberlain. A few weeks ago, we became “friends” on GoodReads. And it started me thinking. Last year when my husband and I went on vacation, one of the books that came along with us was The Midwife’s Confession, which I reviewed for Meryl L. Moss Media and gave it a 5/5. I had become a fan of her’s when I read The Lies We Told, which I also rated a 5/5. Since we are going away again, same time, same place, I have already started a mental priority packing list, which is, what books will be packed this year. So I garnered up the courage, emailed her, and asked if she had a new book coming out and would it be on an ARC tour? She responded saying she would check with her publisher, but in the meantime, much to my surprise, honor, and delight, her publisher sent me a copy. Unfortunately, knowing it was in my possession, I could not wait until our vacation to read it.

The prologue steals your heart with the introduction of a 4 year old little girl, Bella, in which the other main characters are brought into the story line and come to life. There is so much to this book, and I apologize for being vague at times, but I do not want to include spoilers. There was suspense, relationship dynamics, betrayals, grief, guilt, desperation, good, evil, secrets, lies, friendships, innocence, terror, blame, and above all a parent’s unconditional love. The author writes in such a way that is so brilliant, detailed and descriptive, what I call a “transport” read, where I was so engrossed that I actually felt that I was part of the story and could create such realistic imagery of the entire book. Each chapter alternates and is told through the perspective of 3 main characters, which made this reader want to read ahead to find out the outcome of the previous chapter’s situation the author leaves you with. It was a page turning read. I could not put this book down and read it in 2 days. This is a book that will stay with you long after reading the last word. A powerful, compelling, heartfelt, and passionate read. Highly recommend, matter of fact, preorder it!!

THANKS TO ERIN AND THE GENEROUS FOLKS AT
THE BOOK TRIB/MEDIA MUSCLE, I HAVE ONE (1)
COPY OF THIS PHENOMENAL BOOK TO GIVE AWAY.

CLICK HERE TO BRING YOU TO
THE GIVEAWAY ENTRY PAGE.

DISCLAIMER
I received a copy of this book, at no charge to me,
in exchange for my honest review.
No items that I receive
are ever sold…they are kept by me,
or given to family and/or friends.

(2012 Challenges:Romantic Suspense, EBooks, ARC, Off The Shelf, Free Reads, Where Are You?, A-Z, 52 in 52, Outdo Yourself, 100+)

Guest Author, Partners In Crime Tours, Showcase

Guest Author Jeremy Burns

CMash April 20, 2012 1 Comment

Today we have a very adventurous and talented author, stopping by to tell us about his debut book, as he tours with Partners In Crime Tours. So please help me welcome Jeremy to the CMash blog.

ABOUT JEREMY BURNS

An avid reader since the age of three, Jeremy Burns was devouring novels by the time other children his age were still learning their ABCs. Blessed (and, at times, cursed) with a decidedly active imagination and an insatiable curiosity for nearly everything, Jeremy made learning and storytelling two of his chief passions. After earning his degree in History from Florida State University, Jeremy accepted a position teaching literature, creative writing, political science, and philosophy at an international school in Dubai. Like the characters in his books, Jeremy is an intrepid explorer whose own adventures have taken him from Mayan ruins in the Yucatan to the pyramids of Egypt, from medieval castles across Europe to the jungles of Bangladesh, and beyond. To date, Jeremy has traveled to more than twenty countries across four continents, seeking adventure, discovery, and ideas for future novels. When not exploring a new corner of the globe, Jeremy lives in Florida, where he is working on his next thrilling novel.

Connect with Jeremy: Website~Facebook

GUEST POST

Happy Birthday, Hitler
By Jeremy Burns

Adolf Hitler was a very bad man. Today marks the 123rd anniversary of his birth, and, excepting staunch neo-Nazis and vehement anti-Semites, there really is very little debate on this point. Few individuals in recent history (or indeed, in any period of history) are viewed as universally negatively as Adolf Hitler. What historians do debate, however, is whether Hitler was himself the architect of his own evil rise to power or whether he was a product of a certain volatile climate in which the rise of a man such as Hitler was inevitable.

An oft-asked question by people today is how on earth a country as traditionally logical and grounded as Germany would go along with what, to our retrospective minds, seems to be a series of insane and wholly immoral ventures. The answer is twofold: pride and fear.

In the period between the First World War and Hitler’s assuming control of what would become the Third Reich, Germany was consumed with a strong nationalistic pride, with popular myths hearkening back to a gilded age in which she was the dominant force in Europe in both cultural prowess and military might. These myths stood in stark contrast to the very real problems that ravaged the people on a regular basis: national humiliation on a global stage following the end of World War I, a revolving door of incompetent and corrupt leaders, and mass poverty spurred, among other factors, by hyperinflation. The Germany the people lived in was nothing like the Germany they were sure had once been.

One of the main groups blamed for this dysfunctional version of Germany was the Jewish people. Occupying many positions of cultural, academic, and financial influence, the Jews made a viable scapegoat as they had in Europe many times before. It was said that foreign influence, particularly that of the Jews, Slavs, Gypsies, and other groups of eastern European descent, were the cause of this rift between the Germany that should have been and the Germany that actually was. It was because of the Jews and foreigners living among them that the unstoppable German war machine had ground to a halt. It was because of the Jews that the proud German nation was humbled at Versailles. It was because of the Jews that the ideals of German culture, innovation, and industry were corrupted and cast asunder. German leaders were viewed as weak-minded puppets for foreign powers that sought to destroy all that the German people held dear. Fear of these treasonous conspirators and their plots to bring the German nation down from within was another of the key elements that fostered the atmosphere of the day.

Into this volatile climate was born the National Socialist German Worker’s Party – later shortened to National Socialists and then simply to the Nazis. Originally a small and insignificant group of political upstarts in Bavaria, they got their boost from a frustrated Austrian painter and decorated military veteran named Adolf Hitler. Hitler would soon use his powerful oratory skills and personal presence to give life to a twisted and grandiose vision welcomed and shared, in many regards, by much of the German populace of the time.

In Germany as in America, there was a clash of extreme ideas at the time. The Great Depression cast both nations, as with most of the western world, into turmoil, proving to the minds of most that the old ways simply didn’t work. Change was needed. Radical change, many believed, because the failure of the old systems was so radical. Extreme right-wing and left-wing movements sprang up across western world, each offering their answers to the problems that plagued their modern world. Communism and Fascism were at war long before Hitler invaded the Soviet Union in 1941. Their battlegrounds were the streets of Berlin and Washington, New York and Munich. The prize: the preservation or destruction of all that one way of life or another held sacred.

The year is 1932. You are not a time traveler. You do not have the hindsight that the passage of time gives us. You do not know what will transpire in this war between extreme left and extreme right. Both appear to be hulking behemoths that would smash the old order and usher in something new and terrifying. You have the means and opportunity to do something to influence the outcome of this war of ideals. What would you do? How would you choose which side to take?

What if one man did have that opportunity? What if John D. Rockefeller, Jr., scion of the vast Rockefeller empire and one of the richest and most influential men of the last few centuries, had been presented with this choice? And what if he chose very, very wrongly?

This dilemma and its aftermath provide the historical backdrop for my hit thriller FROM THE ASHES, an action-packed novel that poses the above question and answers it in a chillingly plausible manner. In my study of history, the official version of events rarely conveys all the underlying conflicts and tensions, the shadow wars and the buried secrets… in short, the sordid controversies and dark conspiracies that grease the wheels of progress. The rise of an obscure washed-up artist to the commander of the greatest military machine the world had ever seen may well have been the product of his time. He may have been simply an evil genius who seized upon the zeitgeist of the day to fulfill his deranged fantasies. Or, perhaps, there’s still more of the story to be told.

Today, on a date that’s become associated with the Columbine massacre and college kids getting high, Adolf Hitler would have been 123 years old. Despite all the horrors Hitler unleashed upon the world, he did leave us some good things: a universal enemy that even today remains the quintessential embodiment of evil, an opportunity for American industry to get its economic footing back and establish itself as a world power (and counterbalance to the Soviet Union), and more than a few shocking and mysterious secrets buried in the closets of the Third Reich. So, happy birthday, Hitler. May you rot in Hell.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Graduate students Jonathan and Michael Rickner, sons of eminent archeologist Sir William Rickner, are no strangers to historical secrets and archeological adventures. But when Michael is discovered dead in his Washington, D.C. apartment, Jon refuses to believe the official ruling of suicide. Digging deeper into his brother’s work, he discovers evidence that Michael was murdered to keep his dissertation research buried. Joined by Michael’s fiancée Mara Ellison, Jon travels to New York where he uncovers the threads of a deadly Depression-era conspiracy – one entangling the Hoover Administration, the Rockefellers, and the rise of Nazi Germany – and the elite cadre of assassins that still guard its unspeakable secret. Finding themselves in the crosshairs of the same men who killed Michael, Jon and Mara must navigate a complex web of historical cover-ups and modern-day subterfuge, outwitting and outrunning their all-powerful pursuers as they race through a labyrinthine treasure hunt through the monuments and museums of Manhattan to discover the last secret of John D. Rockefeller, Jr., before their enemies can bury the truth – and them – forever.

Book Details:
Purchase Links: Amazon ; Barnes And Noble
Publisher: Fiction Studio Books
Pub Date: January 17,2012
Pages: 394
Direct Tour Page Link

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