GIVEAWAY ENTRY PAGE “EXTRAORDINARY RENDITION by Paul Batista ENDED

CMash October 30, 2012 8 Comments

OCTOBER 30th to NOVEMBER 13th, 2012

EXTRAORDINARY RENDITON
by PAUL BATISTA

SYNOPSIS:

–When Ali Hussein—suspected terrorist and alleged banker for Al Qaeda—is finally transported from Gitmo to theUSmainland to stand trial, many are stunned when Byron Carlos Johnson, pre-eminent lawyer and the son of a high-profile diplomat, volunteers as counsel. On principle, Johnson thought he was merely defending a man unjustly captured through Rendition and water-boarded illegally. But Johnson soon learns that there is much more at stake than one man’s civil rights.
–Hussein’s intimate knowledge of key financial transactions could lead to the capture of—or the unabated funding of—the world’s most dangerous terror cells. This makes Hussein the target of corruptUS intelligence forces on one side, and ruthless international terrorists on the other. And, it puts Byron Carlos Johnson squarely in the crosshairs of both.
–Pulled irresistibly by forces he can and cannot see, Johnson enters a lethal maze of espionage, manipulation, legal traps and murder. And when his life, his love, and his acclaimed principles are on the line, Johnson may have one gambit left that can save them all; a play that even his confidants could not have anticipated. He must become the hunter among hunters in the deadliest game.
–Written by no-holds-barred-attorney Paul Batista, Extraordinary Rendition excels not only as an action thriller, but as a sophisticated legal procedural as well; tearing the curtains away from the nation’s most controversial issues.
–Provocative. Smart. Heart-pounding. A legal thriller of the highest order.

THANKS TO LAUREN, AND THE TERRIFIC

PEOPLE AT BLUE DOT LITERARY

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Guest Author, Showcase, The Book Trib/Media Muscle

GUEST AUTHOR LORI FOSTER

CMash October 28, 2012 1 Comment

Are you like me? Do you want to read every new book that you see? Your TBR list is huge? But real life interfere’s in reading time? Wishing you don’t have to grocery shop, clean the house, bring the kids to activities, etc., etc., and wishing you could just read 24/7? Well, here is another book to add to your list. Liz, from Meryl L. Moss Media, contacted me and when I read the synopsis, I knew it was a book I wanted to share with you. So please help me in welcoming, Ms Lori Foster to CMash Reads.

LORI FOSTER

Since first publishing in January 1996, Lori Fosterhas become a Waldenbooks, Borders, USA Today, Publishers Weekly and New York Times bestselling author.

Lori believes it’s important to give back to the community as much as possible, so she routinely arranges events among authors and readers to gather donations for various organizations.

GUEST POST

1. How do you see the romance community as a whole (your readers and fellow authors)? Where do you see it in 10 years? What’s the best part about it?

The romance community has the most wonderful women and men in the entire world! Unique, friendly, open and caring. We love talking books, of course. But it’s so much more than that. It’s a rapport, a connection to the storylines, how they relate and don’t relate to real life romances, situations and circumstances. Many times readers can find a small part of themselves in the stories. That often opens a dialogue about real-life issues, the trials we have, what we survive and what we celebrate. People are so diverse that every day I hear, see, learn something new from my readers.

The current “open to the public” networking can be worrisome. So many people put their hearts out there for all the world to see. Used to be we kept our lives private and only shared certain aspects of ourselves. Now we share everything and only choose certain aspects to keep private. That’s the only downside to an otherwise amazing connection. When people share too much, they leave themselves vulnerable in so many ways. Identity theft has become a #1 worry!

But I believe societal trends are cyclical. Before my end of time, I’m sure we’ll find people pulling back and rebelling against the “tell all” mode of social networking. In the meantime, it’s just fabulous to have a forum for chatting with readers. I feel like I know so many of them, even though we’ll never meet in person.

ABOUT THE BOOK

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR LORI FOSTER goes undercover in steamy new thriller

A police detective goes undercover to investigate a murder, and his target is a mousy young lady he believes is the link he needs to solve the case. But little does he know that his plain-Jane suspect has her own secrets that will turn his case head over heels before it’s over. From award-winning author Lori Foster comes RUN THE RISK (HQN Books; October 2012; $7.99 U.S./$9.99CAN.), the first book in her brand-new original series.

When handsome construction worker Logan Riske moves next door to the dowdy young Pepper Yates, she can’t believe her luck. Her new beau has everything she wants in a guy—looks, charm, style. He also has one thing she doesn’t even suspect—a badge.

Loganis really an undercover cop investigating the homicide of his best friend and he’s sure that the shy, introverted Pepper is concealing the whereabouts of her eyewitness brother, Rowdy.Loganneeds Rowdy’s testimony to bring crime boss Morton Andrews to justice for the murder, and he’ll go to any lengths to obtain it—even seducing Rowdy’s wallflower sister.

The longerLogan’s seductive charade goes on, however, the more he starts to see through Pepper’s drab exterior to the true beauty beneath. Despite all his training,Logancan’t stop himself from falling for Pepper. But to warn her now will cost him any chance of trapping her brother and bringing his friend’s killer to justice. Like it or not, Logan’s going to see this masquerade through to the end, even if it costs him what he now values most—Pepper.

But Pepper Yates is no one’s fool. She and her brother have managed to survive on the run by trusting no one, especially a flirtatious neighbor with romantic intentions. Despite her undeniable attraction toLogan, Pepper isn’t about to risk her brother’s life by falling prey to her passions.

But no matter what she does, it may be too late. Rowdy is already caught in the killer’s crosshairs and Pepper knows it’s up to her to do whatever it takes to save him no matter who stands in her way…evenLogan.
Follow Lori Foster’s tour here.

Excerpt:
As if he knew her thoughts, he gave a warm laugh and stepped out of the doorway. “See you later, Sue.”

Not if I see you first. “Goodbye, Logan.” She started to close the door.

And he said, “Now that wasn’t so painful, was it?”

She clicked the door shut in his face, then dropped against it.

Painful? Not exactly.

Book Details:
RUN THE RISK
Lori Foster
HQN Books; October 2012
384 pages; $7.99 U.S./$9.99 CAN.
ISBN-13: 978-0-373-77695-5
www.LoriFoster.com

THANKS TO LIZ AT MERYL L. MOSS MEDIA/THE BOOK TRIB, I HAVE ONE (1)
COPY OF THIS BOOK TO GIVEAWAY. U.S. AND CANADA RESIDENTS ONLY

CLICK HERE TO BRING YOU TO
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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, The Book Trib/Media Muscle

Guest Author Rebecca Coleman

CMash October 23, 2012 Leave a Comment

Rebecca Coleman last visited in September of 2011 so when Alissa from The Book Trib contacted me, to be part of Ms. Coleman’s latest tour, it was an automatic yes!! So without further ado, Ms. Rebecca Coleman!!

REBECCA COLEMAN

A New Yorker by birth, Rebecca Coleman grew up in the close suburbs of Washington, D.C., in an academic family. A year spent in Germany, at the age of eight, would later provide the basis for the protagonist’s background in “The Kingdom of Childhood.” She first learned about the Waldorf School movement at age 14 and quickly developed a fascination with its culture and philosophies. After studying elementary education for several years at the University of Maryland, she graduated with a degree in English, awarded with honors. She lives in suburban Maryland with her husband and their four young children.
Visit Rebecca at her website and follow her tour here.

GUEST POST

How can we as a society be more supportive of veterans?

Not long ago I clicked through a Facebook link to read the heartbreaking and deeply moving love story of Taylor Morris, a U.S. soldier rendered quadruple amputee by an IED in Afghanistan, and his girlfriend Danielle. Told in a series of photographs, the story of love and sacrifice and resilience moved me to tears, and I was thrilled to see that readers of the website The Chive had raised over $250,000 to buy Taylor his dream cabin beside a lake. The story is beautiful by any measure, but I am a hopeless softy for any story of a soldier’s homecoming. Turn on a video of a dog bounding out of the house to greet his returned master, and I’m blubbering within seconds.

The trouble with these things, and the sense of triumph and comfort they leave us with– that they’re home, that they’re bouncing back, that everything can go back to normal now– is that it’s false. Rubbing the dog’s belly isn’t the last scene in that soldier’s personal war movie; most likely, it’s somewhere in the middle. The Department of Veterans’ Affairs statistics show that between 25 and 30% of soldiers display symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and many don’t seek treatment in the first place. Of those that do, many receive ineffective or halfhearted treatment. While researching my novel Heaven Should Fall, I was determined to paint an accurate picture both of PTSD and of the VA’s typical handling of it in a soldier reluctant to admit his need for help. The result of that is Elias Olmstead, a young guy full of loves and hopes and pain he can’t articulate, who patrols his own house at night, sleeps in his sneakers, and struggles not to freak out at loud noises and throttle his sister’s kids.

The thing about PTSD is, it affects not only the soldier who suffers from it, but that soldier’s entire family. Husbands or wives welcome home a partner who can seem very unlike the loved one they sent off to war, and the resulting friction impacts the kids. A soldier’s parents, too, can feel helpless and deeply troubled to see an adult son or daughter carrying the invisible scars of battle– all the more if they encouraged or warned against it. The suicide rate among active-duty soldiers and combat veterans is climbing to an alarming level. And as community mental health services become, more and more, the victims of budget cuts, these families are left with fewer and fewer resources from which to seek help. Especially in rural areas, these facilities are often the lifeline for families who live far from a VA hospital or who– in the case of unmarried partners, for example– aren’t eligible for those benefits. To put it bluntly, those who claim to support military families, but favor candidates who want to paint every social service as a frivolous use of tax dollars, are escalating the problem. Never in our nation’s history has there been a more important time to support community-based mental health care than now.

I know that the picture I’m painting is a grim one, but positive change is within our grasp. We can support organizations like the Wounded Warrior Project and the Coming Home Project, and we can stay mindful, this election season, of how our votes will impact the resources that military families depend on to help their soldiers come home in mind as well as body. Because the feel-good stories feel best when we know there’s substance to our actions, and that we’re here for them, as long as it takes.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Alone since her mother’s death, Jill Wagner wants to eat, sleep and breathe Cade Olmstead when he bursts upon her life—golden, handsome and ambitious. Even putting college on hold feels like a minor sacrifice when she discovers she’s pregnant with Cade’s baby. But it won’t be the last sacrifice she’ll have to make.

Retreating to the Olmsteads’ New England farm seems sensible, if not ideal: Jill and Cade will regroup and welcome the baby, surrounded by Cade’s family. But the remote, ramshackle place already feels crowded. Cade’s mother tends to his ailing father, while Cade’s pious sister, her bigoted husband and their rowdy sons overrun the house. Only Cade’s brother, Elias, a combat veteran with a damaged spirit, gives Jill an ally amidst the chaos, along with a glimpse into his disturbing childhood. But his burden is heavy, and she alone cannot kindle his will to live

The tragedy of Elias is like a killing frost, withering Cade in particular, transforming his idealism into bitterness and paranoia. Taking solace in caring for her newborn son, Jill looks up to find her golden boy is gone. In Cade’s place is a desperate man willing to endanger them all in the name of vengeance…unless Jill can find a way out.

EXCERPT

“We both run, too,” I told him. “I ran track in high school, and Cade’s always training for some half marathon or another. So we go running together a lot.”

“I bet Cade tries to outrun you,” Elias said, “competitive son of a bitch that he is.”

“And you wonder why I don’t bring you home to meet my family,” Cade said to me. “You hear the stuff they say about me?”

Elias laughed low. “Just speaking the truth, bro. She’s got to learn it sometime.”

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 Vincent Zandri

CMash October 22, 2012 Leave a Comment

WooHoo!!! Heeeee’s baaack! If you follow me, then you know how much I enjoy Vincent Zandri’s novels. I have read every single book except one and that is waiting for me in my Kindle. And today is super special because not only is he back to talk about one of newly published books, today he kicks off his tour with Partners In Crime Tours. So please help me give a very warm welcome to author and friend, Vincent Zandri!!

VINCENT ZANDRI

Vincent Zandri is the No. 1 International Bestselling Amazon author of THE INNOCENT, GODCHILD, THE REMAINS, MOONLIGHT FALLS, CONCRETE PEARL, MOONLIGHT RISES, SCREAM CATCHER, BLUE MOONLIGHT and MURDER BY MOONLIGHT. He is also the author of the Amazon bestselling digital shorts, PATHOLOGICAL, TRUE STORIES and MOONLIGHT MAFIA. Harlan Coben has described THE INNOCENT (formerly As Catch Can) as “…gritty, fast-paced, lyrical and haunting,” while the New York Post called it “Sensational…Masterful…Brilliant!” Zandri’s list of publishers include Delacorte, Dell, StoneHouse Ink, StoneGate Ink and Thomas & Mercer. An MFA in Writing graduate of Vermont College, Zandri’s work is translated into many languages including the Dutch, Russian, and Japanese. An adventurer, foreign correspondent, and freelance photo-journalist for RT, Globalspec, IBTimes and more, he lives in Albany, New York. For more go to WWW.VINCENTZANDRI.COM

Visit Vin at his website, Facebook and Twitter.

Follow Vincent Zandri’s tour here and enter to win a copy of Concrete Pearl, Moonlight Rises and/or Blue Moonlight.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Now you see her. Now you don’t…

Captain Nick Angel has finally made a separate peace with the war in Afghanistan. Since having been ordered to bomb a Tajik village which resulted in the death of a little boy of no more than two, he’s been suffering from temporary bouts of blindness. Knowing the he needs time to rest and recover from his post traumatic stress, the US Army decides to send him to Venice along with his fiancee, the artist, Grace Blunt. Together they try and recapture their former life together. But when Grace suddenly goes missing, Nick not only finds himself suddenly alone and sightless in the ancient city of water, but also the number one suspect in her disappearance.

A novel that projects Hitchcockian suspense onto a backdrop of love and war, The Disappearance of Grace is a rich, literary thriller of fear, loss, love, and revenge. From the war in the Afghan mountains to the canals of romantic Venice, this is a story that proves 20/20 eyesight might not always be so perfect and seeing is not always believing.
See my review here.

Read an excerpt:

The wind picks up off the basin.
It seems to seep right through my leather coat into flesh, skin and bone. I try and hold my face up to the sun while the waiter takes our orders. Grace orders a single glass of vino russo and a pancetta and cheese panini. I forgo the Valpolicella and order a Moretti beer and a simple spaghetti pomadoro. The waiter thanks us and I listen to him leaving us for now.We sit in the calm of the early afternoon, the sounds of the boat traffic coming and going on the basin filling my ears. People surround us on all sides. Tourists who have come to San Marco for the first time and who’ve become mesmerized by it all. I don’t have to physically see them to know how they feel. The stone square, the Cathedral, the bell tower, the many shops and high- end eateries that occupy the wide, square-shaped perimeter. The pigeons. The people. Always the throngs of people coming and going amidst a chorus of bells, bellowing voices, live music emerging from trumpets, violins, and guitars, and an energetic buzz that seems to radiate up from underneath all that stone and sea-soaked soil.It’s early November.Here’s what I know about Venice: In just a few week’s’ time, the rains will come and this square will be underwater. The ever sinking Venice floods easily now. The only way to walk the square will be over hastily constructed platforms made from cobbled narrow planks. Many of the tourists will stay away and the live music will be silenced. But somehow, that’s when Venice will come alive more than ever. When the stone is bathed in water.The waiter brings our drinks and food.
With the aroma of the hot spaghetti filling my senses, I dig in and spoon up a mouthful. I wash the hot, tangy sauce-covered pasta down with a swallow of red wine.

“Whoa, slow down, chief,” Grace giggles.

“Eating, smiling, making love to me. What’s next? Writing?”

“Don’t press your luck, Gracie,” I say. “The sea change can occur at any moment. Just don’t start asking me to identify engagement rings.”

She laughs genuinely and I listen to the sounds of her taking a bite out of her sandwich. But then she goes quiet again. Too quiet, as if she’s stopped breathing altogether.

“There’s someone staring at us,” she says under her breath.

“Man or woman?” I say, trying to position my gaze directly across the table at her, but making out nothing more than her black silhouette framed against the brightness of the sun. Later on, when the sun goes down, the image of her will be entirely black. Like the blackness of the Afghan Tajik country when the fires are put out and you lie very still inside your tent without the benefit of electronic night vision, and you feel the beating of your never- still heart and you pray for morning.

“Man,” she whispers.

“What’s he look like?”

“It’s him again. The man in the overcoat who was staring at us yesterday.”

A start in my heart. I put my fork down inside my bowl. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I think. He’s wearing sunglasses this time. So,. I think it’s him.”

“What’s he look like?”

“He’s a thin man. Not tall. Not short. He’s got a dark complexion.”

“Black?”

“No. More like Asian or Middle Eastern. He’s wearing sunglasses and that same brown overcoat and a scarf. His hair is black and cut close to his scalp. His beard is very trim and cropped close to his face.” She exhales. I hear her take a quick, nervous sip of her wine. “He keeps staring at us. At me. Just like yesterday, Nick.”

“How do you know he’s staring at you? It could be something behind you, Grace. We’re in Venice. Lots going on behind you. Lots to see.”

She’s stirring in her chair. Agitated.
“Because I can feel him. His eyes…I. Feel. His. Eyes.”

I wipe my mouth clean with the cloth napkin. I do something entirely silly. I turn around in my chair to get a look at the man. As if I have the ability to see him right now, which I most definitely do not.

“What are you doing?” Grace poses, the anxiety in her voice growing more intense with each passing second.

“Trying to get a look at him.”

“You’re joking, Nick.”

I turn back, try and focus on her.

“You think?”

We sit silent.
Once more I am helpless and impotent.

“I’m sorry,” she says after a time. “I’m not trying to insult you. This isn’t like yesterday with the ring. But this man is at the same café we’re at two days in a row? This is really starting to creep me out, babe.”

My pulse begins to pump inside my head. Not rapid, but just enough for me to notice. Two steady drum beats against my temples. I find myself wanting to swallow, but my mouth has gone dry. I take a sip of beer thinking it will help.

“He’s coming towards us, Nick. I don’t like it.”

Heart beat picks up. I feel it pounding inside my head and my chest.

“Are you sure he’s coming towards us, Grace?” I’m trying not to raise my voice, but it’s next to impossible.

“He’s looking right at me. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his overcoat. And he’s coming.”

I feel and hear Grace pulling away from the table. She’s standing. That’s when the smell of incense sweeps over me. A rich, organic, incense-like smell.

There comes the sound of Grace standing. Abruptly standing. I hear her metal chair push out. I hear the sound of her boot heels on the cobbles. I hear the chair legs scraping against the stone slate. I hear the sound of her wine glass spilling.

“Grace, for God’s sakes, be careful.”

But she doesn’t respond to me. Or is it possible her voice is drowned out by what sounds like a tour group passing by the table? A tour group of Japanese speaking people. But once they pass, there is nothing. No sound at all other than the boats on the basin and the constant murmur of the thousands of tourists that fill this ancient square.

“Grace,” I say. “Grace. Stop it. This isn’t funny. Grace.”

But there’s still no response.
The smell of incense is gone now.
I make out the gulls flying over the tables, the birds shooting in from the basin to pick up scraps of food and then, like thieves in the night, shooting back out over the water. I can hear and feel the sound-wave driven music that reverberates against the stone cathedral.

“Grace,” I repeat, voice louder now. “Grace. Grace…Grace!”

I’m getting no response.

It’s like she’s gone. Vanished. But how can she be gone? She was just sitting here with me. She was sitting directly across from me, eating a sandwich and drinking a glass of wine. She was talking with me.
The waiter approaches.

“The signora is not liking her food?” he questions.

I reach out across the table. In the place where she was sitting. She is definitely not there.

“Is there a toilet close by?” I pose. “Did you see my fiancée leave the table and go to the toilet?”

The waiter pauses for a moment.

“I am sorry. But I did not. I was inside the café.”

“Then maybe somebody else saw her. Maybe you can ask them.”

“Signor, there are many tables in this café and they are all filled with people. And there are many people who walk amongst the tables who can block their view. I am looking at them. No one seems to be concerned about anything. Sometimes there are so many people here, it is easy to get lost. Perhaps she just went to the toilet like you just suggested, and she got lost amongst the people. I will come back in moment and make sure all is well.”

I listen to the waiter leaving, his footsteps fading against the slate.
Grace didn’t say anything about going to the toilet or anywhere else. Grace was frightened. She was frightened of a man who was staring at her. A man with sunglasses on and a cropped beard and a long brown overcoat. He was the man from yesterday. The man with black eyes. He was approaching us, this man. He came to our table and he smelled strongly of incense. He came to our table. There was a slight commotion, the spilling of a glass, the knocking over of a chair, and then Grace was gone.

I sit and stare at nothing. My heart is pounding so fast I think it will cease at any moment. What I have in the place of vision is a blank wall of blurry illumination no longer filled with the silhouette of my Grace.

I push out my chair. Stand. My legs knock into the table and my glass spills along with Grace’s.

I cup my hands around my mouth.

“Grace!” I shout. “Grace! Grace!”

The people who surround me all grow quiet as I scream over them.

The waiter comes running back over.

“Please, please,” he says to me, taking me by the arm. “Please come with me.”

He begins leading me through the throng of tables and people. He is what I have now in the place of Grace. He is my sight.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?” I beg. “Did you check the toilets?”

“We checked the toilets. They are empty. I am sorry. I am sure there is an explanation.”

“Grace is gone!” I shout. “A man took her away. How could no one have seen it?”

“You’re frightening the patrons, signor. Please just come with me and we will try and find her.”

“She’s gone,” I repeat. “Don’t you understand me? My. Grace. Is. Gone.”

Purchase links: AMAZON link B&N link

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

Guest Author A.J. Scudiere

CMash October 18, 2012 1 Comment

It’s old friend’s day. Which only means, a new book has been written. And A.J. is stopping back to tell us all about it. So without further ado, Ms. A.J. Scudiere!!

A.J. SCUDIERE

AJ Scudiere lives in a world where texture reigns supreme. Whether it’s air or virus or even location, it can be felt and smelled. At heart a biologist and avid student, AJ writes about the possibilities that keep us up late at night. The dark writer lives outside Nashville in an idyllic setting full of wildlife and open spaces.

The author has three suspense novels, Resonance, Vengeance, and God’s Eye. The fourth novel—Phoenix—is due out this fall.

At heart a biologist and avid student, AJ writes about the possibilities that keep us up late at night. Previous novels have won A Booky—top ten fiction novel of 2011, multiple Best Audio Fiction of the Year awards, and garnered 2 Audie Nominations.

The author has three suspense novels, Resonance, Vengeance, and God’s Eye. The fourth novel—Phoenix—is due out this fall.

GUEST POST

What makes a reader stay up all night with a good book?

There are a thousand different answers to that question and really only one: a character you care about and a good story.

When we talk about suspense novels (thrillers), we can define that even more. We now need a character we want to root for and a plot that convinces us something is very wrong here. One easy way to create this plot is to put our character in danger, the sooner the better! We can also let him walk around unknowing, while you—the reader—can see what he can’t.

Why do you like a character? Well, we all have our pet peeves, and when an author crosses that line, you probably won’t read further. But for the most part you have to either relate to or care for the character. All of us are different, so what we relate to will be different. For me, making the character as richly written as possible helps with this. One dimensional characters catch only readers who share that dimension in some way, depth means the reader can see more and therefore find more to latch onto.

For me, a plot has to have some level of reality to it. I’m not saying I’m against Fantasy or SciFi (my first novel was SciFi!) but as a reader—and therefore as a writer—I dislike plot points that simply happen. If a story needs an earthquake that shakes Florida to its core, or if New Yorkers suddenly riot and take over the city, it has to be believable. I need to buy in before I’ll read about a toddler on the quest for a holy grail. As a writer, it becomes my job to build that world for you. A world that makes you just a little concerned about the ground beneath your feet in Florida; one that makes you look sideways at New Yorkers . . . or toddlers!

What makes a good solid thriller is answers. You need your questions answered. Where is the killer going to strike next? What is the toddler going to do with that chalice? But what makes a great thriller is getting the satisfaction of figuring out the answer for one thing, while another question is arising. That’s what gets you involved. That’s what keeps you up at night when you have something to do early the next day. It’s what makes you wonder ‘what’s going to happen next?’ And that’s my job: to give you characters you understand. To give you a story that keeps you on your toes. To make you say ‘just one more chapter.’

ABOUT THE BOOK

Jason Mondy’s world is unraveling.

His seemingly secure job as a fire fighter is suddenly thrown into chaos.
The bright spot in his week is that he rescued two children from a house fire,
but he returns home that night to find all his furniture is missing.
His girlfriend has left him without warning and his nightmares keep him from sleeping.
Even just a simple trip home to find some rest leads his adoptive mother to sit him down
and tell him that maybe his troubles aren’t quite as innocuous as they seem.
Then she divulges a secret she’s kept for over twenty-six years . . .

Jason has a brother he doesn’t remember existed.

He doesn’t remember his life before he was adopted at age seven.
He only knows that he was rescued from the fire that took his birth mother’s life.
But the story is deeper than that, and the foundation on which he built his world is now cracking.
The brother he doesn’t remember it out there somewhere, left behind.

Armed with only this stunning new piece of information,
Jason embarks on a quest to find the truths buried deep in his past.
As he searches, one by one the pieces of his life fall like dominoes.
And the more he uncovers, the more everything he thought he knew
about himself and his past
begins to turn to ash.

His truth isn’t true at all . . .

THANKS TO SAMANTHA, JKS COMMUNICATIONS,
I HAVE THREE (3) SIGNED COPIES OF THIS BOOK,
ALONG WITH A HAT, 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, The Story Plant

Guest Author Ethan Cross

CMash October 16, 2012 Leave a Comment

Don’t you just love when authors come back and visit your blog? It means that they have another book to tell us about. Mr. Cross was here back in March of 2011. But today, for me, it is even more exciting for a few reasons. Not only does it mean that you will get to read about his book, but he is returning today at the request of The Story Plant as he kicks off his virtual tour with Partners In Crime Tours. But before I introduce this amazing writer, I would like to thank Mr. Aronica, publisher of The Story Plant. I have been reviewing this company’s novels from the time I first went public with this blog and can honestly say, that every author and book I have read under this imprint, has been added to my “authors to read list”. I invite you to visit The Story Plant, and see for yourself , the phenomenal authors and titles they have. And now, I ask you to help me welcome Mr. Ethan Cross!

ETHAN CROSS

When a fireman or a policeman would visit his school, most of his classmates’ heads would swim with aspirations of growing up and catching bad guys or saving someone from a blazing inferno. When these moments came for Ethan Cross, however, his dreams weren’t to someday be a cop or put out fires; he just wanted to write about it. His dream of telling stories on a grand scale came to fruition with the release of his first novel, the international bestseller, THE SHEPHERD.

Ethan Cross is the pen name of a thriller author living and writ- ing in Illinois with his wife, two daughters, and two Shih Tzus. In addition to The Shepherd and The Prophet, he has published two no- vellas––The Cage and Callsign: Knight (with Jeremy Robinson).
Connect with the author at his website, Facebook and Twitter.

ABOUT THE BOOK

OLD ENEMIES…
Francis Ackerman Jr. is one of America’s most prolific serial killers. Having kept a low profile for the past year, he is ready to return to work – and he’s more brutal, cunning, and dangerous than ever.

NEW THREATS…
Scarred from their past battles, Special Agent Marcus Williams cannot shake Ackerman from his mind. But now Marcus must focus on catching the Anarchist, a new killer who drugs and kidnaps women before burning them alive.

HIDDEN TERRORS…
Marcus knows the Anarchist will strike again soon. And Ackerman is still free. But worse than this is a mysterious figure, unknown to the authorities, who controls the actions of the Anarchist and many like him. He is the Prophet – and his plans are more terrible than even his own disciples can imagine.

With attacks coming from every side, Marcus faces a race against time to save the lives of a group of innocent people chosen as sacrifices in the Prophet’s final dark ritual.
Read my review here.

Read an excerpt:

CHAPTER ONEFrancis Ackerman Jr. stared out the window of the dark copper and white bungalow on Macarthur Boulevard. Across the street, a green sign with yellow letters read Mosswood Playground – Oakland Recreation Department. Children laughed and played while mothers and fathers pushed swings and sat on benches reading paperback novels or fiddling with cell phones. He had never experienced such things as a child. The only games his father ever played were the kind that scarred the body and soul. He had never been nurtured; he had never been loved. But he had come to accept that. He had found purpose and meaning born from the pain and chaos that had consumed his life.

He watched the sun reflect off all the smiling faces and imagined how different the scene would be if the sun suddenly burned out and fell from the heavens. The cleansing cold of an everlasting winter would sweep across the land, cleansing it, purifying it. He pictured the faces forever etched in torment, their screams silent, and their eyes like two crystal balls reflecting what lay beyond death.

He let out a long sigh. It would be beautiful. He wondered if normal people ever thought of such things. He wondered if they ever found beauty in death.

Ackerman turned back to the three people bound to chairs in the room behind him. The first two were men—plain-clothes cops that had been watching the house. The older officer had a pencil-thin mustache and thinning brown hair while his younger counterpart’s head was topped with a greasy mop of dark black. The younger man’s bushy eyebrows matched his hair, and a hooked nose sat above thin pink lips and a recessed chin. The first man struck Ackerman to be like any other cop he had met, honest and hard-working. But there was something about the younger man he didn’t like, something in his eyes. He suppressed the urge to smack the condescending little snarl from the younger cop’s ferret-like face.

But instead of hitting him, Ackerman just smiled at the cop. He needed a demonstration to get the information he needed, and the ferret would be perfect. His eyes held the ferret’s gaze a moment longer, and then he winked and turned to the last of his three captives.

Rosemary Phillips wore a faded Oakland Raiders sweatshirt. She had salt and pepper hair, and ancient pock marks marred her smooth dark chocolate complexion. Her eyes burned with a self-assurance and inner strength that Ackerman respected.

Unfortunately, he needed to find her grandson, and if necessary, he would kill all three of them to accomplish his goal.

He reached up to her mouth and pulled down the gag. She didn’t scream. “Hello, Rosemary. I apologize that I didn’t properly introduce myself earlier when I tied you up, but my name is Francis Ackerman Jr. Have you ever heard of me?”

Rosemary met his gaze. “I’ve seen you on television. You’re the serial killer whose father experimented on him as a child, trying to prove that he could create a monster. I guess he succeeded. But I’m not afraid of you.”

Ackerman smiled. “That’s wonderful. It means that I can skip the introductions and get straight to the point. Do you know why I asked these two gentleman to join us?”

Rosemary’s head swiveled toward the two officers. Her gaze lingered on the ferret. Ackerman saw disgust in her eyes. Apparently, she didn’t like him either. That would make things even more interesting once he started to torture the young cop.

“I’ve seen these two around,” she said. “I’ve already told the cops that my grandson ain’t no damn fool. He wouldn’t just show up here, and I haven’t heard from him since this mess started. But they wouldn’t listen. Apparently they think it’s a good idea to stake out an old lady’s house instead of being out there on the streets doing what the people of this city pay them to do. Typical government at work.”

Ackerman smiled. “I know exactly what you mean. I’ve never had much respect for authority. But you see, I’m looking for your grandson as well. I, however, don’t have the time or patience to sit around here on the off chance that he might show up. I prefer the direct approach, and so I’m going to ask you to level with me. Where can I find your grandson?”

“Like I told them, I have no idea.”

He walked over to a tall, mahogany hutch resting against the wall. It was old and well-built. Family pictures lined its surface and shelves. He picked up a picture of a smiling young black man with his arm around Rosemary. A blue and gold birthday cake sat in front of them. “Rosemary, I’ve done my homework, and I’ve learned that your grandson thinks the world of you. You were his anchor in the storm. Maybe the one good thing in his life. The one person who loved him. You know where he’s hiding, and you are going to share that information with me. One way or another.”

“Why do you even care? What’s he to you?”

“He’s nothing to me. I could care less about your grandson. But someone that I do care about is looking for him, and I try to be useful where I can. And like you said, sometimes bureaucracy and red tape are just too damn slow. We’re going to speed along the process.”

Rosemary shook her head and tugged on the ropes. “I don’t know where he is, and if I did, I’d never tell a monster like you.”

His father’s words tumbled through his mind.

You’re a monster…Kill her and the pain will stop…No one will ever love you…

“Oh, my dear, words hurt. But you’re right. I am a monster.”

Ackerman grabbed a duffle bag from the floor and tossed it onto a small end table. As he unzipped the bag and rifled through the contents, he said, “Are you familiar with the Spanish Inquisition? I’ve been reading a lot about it lately. It’s a fascinating period of history. The Inquisition was basically a tribunal established by Catholic monarchs Ferdinand II of Aragon and Isabella I of Castile in order to maintain Catholic orthodoxy within their kingdoms, especially among the new converts from Judaism and Islam. But that’s not what fascinates me. What fascinates me are the unspeakable acts of barbarism and torture that were carried out in the name of God upon those deemed to be heretics. We think that we live in a brutal age, but our memories are very short-sighted. Any true student of history can tell you that this is the age of enlightenment compared to other periods throughout time. The things the inquisitors did to wrench confessions from their victims was nothing less than extraordinary. Those inquisitors displayed fabulous imagination.”

Ackerman brought a strange device up out of the duffle bag. “This is an antique. It’s previous owner claimed that it’s an exact replica of one used during the Inquisition. You’ve got to love Ebay.”

He held up the device—built from two large, spiked blocks of wood connected by two threaded metal rods an inch in diameter each—for their inspection. “This was referred to as the Knee Splitter. Although it was used on more than just knees. When the inquisitor would turn these screws, the two blocks would push closer together and the spikes would first pierce the flesh of the victim. Then the inquisitor would continue to twist the screws tighter and tighter until they received the answers they wanted or until the affected appendage was rendered useless.”

Rosemary spit at him. As she spoke, her words were strong and confident. He detected a slight hint of a Georgian accent and suspected that it was from her youth and only presented itself when she was especially flustered. “You’re going to kill us anyway. No matter what I do. I can’t save these men anymore than I can save myself. The only thing that I can control is the way that I go out. And I won’t grovel and beg to the likes of you. I won’t give you the satisfaction.”

He nodded. “I respect that. So many people blame the world or society or others for the way that they are. But we’re all victims of circumstance to a certain extent. We like to think that we’re in control of our own destinies, but the truth is that much of our lives are dictated by forces far beyond our control and comprehension. We all have our strings pulled by someone or something. It’s unavoidable. The only place that we have any real control is right here.” He tapped the tip of his fifteen-inch survival knife against his right temple. “Within our minds. Most people don’t understand that, but you do. I didn’t come here to kill you, Rosemary. It will give me no pleasure to remove you from the world. But my strings get pulled just like everyone else’s. In this case, circumstances dictate that I hurt you and these men in order to achieve my goal. I’m good at what I do, my dear. I’ve been schooled in pain and suffering my entire life. Time will only allow me to share a small portion of my expertise with you, but I can tell you that it will be enough. You will tell me. That’s beyond your control. The only aspect of this situation that you can influence is the duration of the suffering you must endure. So I’ll ask again, where is your grandson?”

Her lips trembled, but she didn’t speak.

The smell of cinnamon permeated the air but was unable to mask a feral aroma of sweat and fear. Ackerman had missed that smell. He had missed the fear, the power. But he needed to keep himself contained. He couldn’t lose control. This was about information, not about satisfying his own hunger.

“Time to begin. As they say, I’m going to put the screws to this officer. Makes you wonder if this device is responsible for such a saying, doesn’t it?”

~~*~~

After several moments of enjoyment with his new toy, Ackerman looked at Rosemary, but she had diverted her gaze. He twisted the handles again, and the officer’s thrashing increased.

“Okay, I’ll tell you!” she said. “He’s in Spokane, Washington. They’re set up in an abandoned metal working shop of some kind. Some crooked realtor set it up for them. I’ve tried to get him to turn himself in. I even consider calling the police myself, but I know that he and his friends won’t allow themselves to be captured alive. He’s the only family I have left.” Tears ran down her cheeks.

Ackerman reached down and twisted the pressure from the officer’s legs. The man’s head fell back against the chair. “Thank you. I believe you, and I appreciate your situation. Your grandson has been a bad boy. But he’s your flesh and blood, and you still love him.”

He walked over to the table and pulled up another chair in front of Rosemary. As he sat, he pulled out a small notepad. It was spiral-bound from the top with a blood red cover. “Since you’ve been so forthcoming with me and out of respect, I’ll give you a genuine chance to save your lives.” He flipped up the notepad’s cover, retrieved a small pen from within the spiral, and started to write. As the pen traveled over the page, he said, “I’m going to let you pick the outcome of our little game. On this first sheet, I’ve written ‘ferret’ to represent our first officer.” He tore off the page, wadded it up, and placed it between his legs. “On the second, we’ll write ‘Jackie Gleason’ to represent the next officer. Then Rosemary. Then all live. And all die.”

He stirred up the wadded pieces of paper and placed them on the floor in front of her. “I think the game is self-explanatory, but to make sure that there’s no confusion, you pick the piece of paper, and I kill whoever’s name is on it. But you do have a twenty percent chance that you all live. And just to be clear, if you refuse to pick or take too long, I’ll be happy to kill all three of you. So please don’t try to fight fate. The only thing you have control over here is which piece of paper you choose. Have no illusions that you have other options. It will only serve in making the situation even less manageable for you. Pick one.”

Rosemary’s eyes were full of hate. They burrowed into him. Her gaze didn’t waver. A doctor named Kendrick from the Cedar Mill Psychiatric Hospital had once told Ackerman that he had damage to a group of interconnected brain structures, known as the paralimbic system, that were involved in processing emotion, goal seeking, motivation, and self-control. The doctor had studied his brain using functional magnetic resonance imaging technology and had also found damage to an area known as the amygdala that generated emotions such as fear. Monkeys in the wild with damage to the amygdala had been known to walk right up to people or even predators. The doctor had said this explained why Ackerman didn’t feel fear in the way that other people did. He wondered if Rosemary had a similar impairment or if her strength originated from somewhere else entirely.

She looked down at the sheets of paper then back into his eyes. “Third one. The one right in the center.”

He reached down and uncrumpled the small piece of paper. He smiled. “It’s your lucky day. You all get to live. I’m sorry that you had to endure this due to the actions of someone else. But as I said, we’re all victims of circumstance.”

Then he stood, retrieved his things, and exited onto Macarthur Boulevard.

~~*~~

Ackerman tossed his duffle bag into the trunk of a light-blue Ford Focus. He wished he could travel in more style, but the ability to blend outweighed his own sense of flare. He pulled open the driver’s door, slipped inside, and dropped some jewelry and the wallets and purse of his former captives on the seat next to him. He hated to lower himself to common thievery, but everything cost money. And his skill set didn’t exactly look good on a resume. Besides, he didn’t have time for such things.

He retrieved a disposable cell phone from the glove box and activated the device. As he dialed and pressed send, he looked down at the small slip of paper that Rosemary had chosen. The words All Die stared back at him.

After a few rings, the call connected, and the voice on the other end said, “What do you want?”

Ackerman smiled. “Hello, Marcus. Please forgive me, for I have sinned. But I do it all for you.”

Purchase links: Amazon B&N IndieBound

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, The Hachette Book Group

Guest Author Sandra Brown

CMash October 11, 2012 1 Comment

Yes!!!! It’s THAT Sandra Brown. Sandra Brown, the renowned author, which I have been a fan of, for many years. So when Caitlin, from The Hachette Book Group contacted me regarding reading, reviewing and hosting a showcase on Sandra Brown, it was an instant YES!! It is my honor to have the opportunity of spotlighting Ms. Sandra Brown!!!!

SANDRA BROWN

Sandra Brown is the author of over sixty New York Times bestsellers, including, most recently, Lethal; Rainwater; Tough Customer; Smash Cut; Smoke Screen; Play Dirty; Ricochet; Chill Factor; White Hot; Hello, Darkness; The Crush; Envy; The Switch; The Alibi; Unspeakable; and Fat Tuesday, all of which jumped onto the New York Times list in the number one to five spots. There are over eighty million copies of Sandra Brown’s books in print worldwide and her work has been translated into thirty-four languages. In 2008, Brown was named Thriller Master by the International Thriller Writer’s Association, the organization’s top honor. She currently lives in Texas.
Visit Sandra Brown at her website here.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Sandra Brown is again at the top of her game with a fast-paced mystery set in the high profile world of publishing and tabloid media. LOW PRESSURE (Grand Central Publishing Hardcover; September 18, 2012; $26.99) combines all the key elements that make Sandra Brown’s books must-reads. The Associated Press has said “no one is better in the genre than Brown” and LOW PRESSURE proves them right. Combining an insider’s knowledge of publishing with her trademark dead-on characters and plot, Sandra Brown’s LOW PRESSURE is “a winner.”

Bellamy Lyston was only twelve years old when her older sister, Susan, was killed on a stormy Memorial Day. Bellamy’s fear of storms is a legacy of the tornado that destroyed the crime scene along with her memory of what really happened during the day’s most devastating moments.

Now, eighteen years later, Bellamy has written a sensational, bestselling novel based on Susan’s murder. Because the book was inspired by the tragic event that still pains her family, she published it under a pseudonym to protect them from unwanted publicity. But when an opportunistic reporter discovers that the book is based on fact, Bellamy’s identity is exposed along with the family scandal.

Moreover, Bellamy becomes the target of an unnamed assailant who either wants the truth about Susan’s murder to remain unknown or, even more threatening, is determined to get vengeance for a man wrongfully accused and punished.

In order to identify her stalker, Bellamy must confront the ghosts of her past, including Dent Carter, Susan’s wayward and reckless boyfriend – and an original suspect in the murder case. Dent, with this and other stains on his past, is intent on clearing his name, and he needs Bellamy’s sealed memory to do it. But her safeguarded recollections – once unlocked – pose new, unforeseen dangers.

As Bellamy delves deeper into the mystery surrounding Susan’s slaying, she discovers disturbing elements of the crime that call into question the people she holds most dear. Through haunted by partial memories and conflicted over her feelings for Dent, she won’t stop until she reveals Susan’s killer. That is, unless her killer strikes first….
Watch for me review in the near future.

THANKS TO CAITLIN, AT THE HACHETTE BOOK GROUP, I HAVE
ONE (1) COPY TO GIVE AWAY. OPEN TO U.S. RESIDENTS ONLY.

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 Pamela King Cable

CMash October 10, 2012 Leave a Comment

If you are a frequent visitor, then you know that the ladies of WOW! Women On Writing, always have amazing female authors for us to meet. Today is no exception. So without further ado, Ms. Pamela King Cable!!

PAMELA KING CABLE

Pamela King Cable was born a coal miner’s granddaughter and raised by a tribe of wild Pentecostals and storytellers. She is an award-winning, multi-published author who loves to write about religion and spirituality with paranormal twists she unearths from her family’s history. Married to a megachurch ministry team member as a young adult, she attended years of megachurch services. Pamela studied creative writing at The University of Akron and Kent State University. She has taught at many writing conferences, and speaks to book clubs, women’s groups, national and local civic organizations, and at churches across the country. Nearly a decade in the writing, Televenge is her debut novel. She lives in Ohio with her husband, Michael, and is currently working on her next novel.
Visit Pamela at her Website, Blog, Facebook and Twitter.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Andie Oliver is a faithful woman—to God, to husband Joe, and to televangelist Calvin Artury, a Godfather in a Mafia of holy men. Joe works limitless hours on the megachurch ministry team, falling deeper into debauchery, while Andie attempts to free him from the Reverend’s control and far-reaching influence. Uncovering long-hidden truths—even murder—she loses everything, including her children. Andie fights for redemption for her family and herself, confronting the very definition of sin, and shaking the Christian evangelical world to its core. Evading ruthless adversaries who will go to any lengths to protect Reverend Artury, Andie battles the dark side of televangelism.

THANKS TO THE AUTHOR, PAMELA KING CABLE, I HAVE
ONE (1) PB COPY TO GIVE AWAY. OPEN TO U.S. RESIDENTS

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.