Category: Showcase

Guest Author Steve O’Brien

I was excited when Rebecca, from The Cadence Group, contacted me about today’s guest.  This is the 3rd visit here at CMash Reads, which as you know means, there is another book for us to hear about.  You can see his previous stops here for Redemption Day and  Bullet Work.    So without further ado, Mr. Steve O’Brien!!

STEVE O’BRIEN

Steve O Brien is an attorney, author, and former thoroughbred owner. Dead Money is his third novel. It follows Bullet Work and the critically acclaimed Elijah s Coin, recipient of nine literary awards, including Best Young Adult Fiction, National Best Books Awards, and Best Novella, Next Generation Indie Book Awards. He lives in Washington, D.C.

GUEST POST

Where’d you get that idea?

 The most common question I receive is where did I get the idea for my book? Ideas for storylines, at least for me, don’t magically appear. I don’t necessarily look for ideas either. It could be something I read many years before that suddenly jumps onto the page.

That’s what happened with Dead Money.

It came from a short news story. That caused me to investigate further. The story goes like this:

On July 16, 1981 a middle aged man in a gabardine suit walked up to the betting window at Pimlico racetrack three minutes to post for the third race. He wagered $5000 to show on a horse named Mister’s Mistress. Then he made a similar bets on long shots in the sixth and seventh races.

The man in the gabardine suit had a bad day. He did not cash a single bet that day. But the real betting wasn’t in Maryland, it was in Las Vegas.  At that time Las Vegas did not commingle bets with US racetracks. That meant that bets in Las Vegas did not affect the pari-mutuel payout. Bets made in Las Vegas were paid at track odds. Friends of the gabardine suited man had a very good day in Las Vegas, cashing bets on heavy favorites that paid more to show than they did to win.

In the third race, favorite My Edelweiss paid 3.40 to win, 2.40 to place and 4.40 to show.

The seventh race was where they made their biggest strike. Noble Side won paying 3.60 to win, 3.40 to place and 9.40 to show.

The man in Maryland manipulated the show pools, his friends in Las Vegas bet and cashed at track odds. Their bets were outside the commingled pool and therefore did not lower the odds on their chosen horse.

     Although casinos executives are loath to talk about losses and betting scams, Hank Heffron, manager of the sports book at Barbary Coast Casino said, “They got us. They made a bunch of bets and probably hit every book in town.” When asked if the casino honored the wagers, Heffron said, “Yeah, we cashed them. But it won’t happen again.”

     Really?

     As long as there are non-commingled betting services that pay track odds, there will be the risk of a pari-mutuel betting scam.

So where did my story idea come from? That news article was the genesis. Then I asked “what if?” What if someone pulled this betting scam in one of the biggest races in the country—-The Kentucky Oaks?

That’s where Dead Money was born.

As any good reader of fiction, you still might be suspicious. You may think technology has changed, that speed of information forecloses scams like this. Las Vegas bets are now part of the commingled pools. Digital fingerprints make illicit bets harder to pull off.

You would be right.

But if you’re convinced that such a scam won’t work in today’s environment, check out the fifth race at Thistledown Racetrack on May 21, 2012.

ABOUT THE BOOK

The stranger’s menacing, dismissive laughter echoed in attorney Dan Morgan’s head. In the heart of thoroughbred country–Churchill Downs–a major con was about to be pulled. Despite Dan’s efforts, his filly, Aly Dancer, was somehow part of the scheme.

You Can’t Stop It.
Dan’s dream as a thoroughbred owner was to run in a Grade I race—a televised stakes race. That opportunity had finally appeared. So far it had only resulted in threats, violence and death.

You Can’t Stop It.

What was the scam? Who was involved? Who could he turn to?
Post time was nearing.
The man’s sinister voice would not leave him.

You Can’t Stop It.

THANKS TO REBECCA, FROM THE CADENCE GROUP,
I HAVE ONE (1) BOOK TO GIVE AWAY
U.S. RESIDENTS ONLY

CLICK HERE FOR THE ENTRY PAGE

TCG 300

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

Guest Authors Margaret Mallory and Sue-Ellen Welfonder

Are you ready for this?  I know you are going to love it!!  Today we have, not one, but two (2) guest authors stopping by.   So get comfy, while Julie from Grand Central Publishing/Forever, introduces us to Ms. Margaret Mallory and Ms. Sue-Ellen Welfonder.  Welcome ladies!!!

       

        MARGARET MALLORY               SUE-ELLEN WELFONDER

Margaret Mallory abandoned a career as a lawyer to become a romance novelist. Why this surprised everyone, she doesn’t know. Who wouldn’t rather have thrilling adventures with handsome Highlanders than write briefs and memos? Margaret lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, a goofy dog, and a crabby cat.

Sue-Ellen Welfonder is a Scotophile whose burning wish to make frequent trips to the land of her dreams led her to a twenty-year career with the airlines. Now a full-time writer, she’s quick to admit that she much prefers wielding a pen to pushing tea and coffee. She never watches television, loves haggis, and writes at a 450-year-old desk that once stood in a Bavarian castle.

Q & A with Margaret Mallory

1. Do you draw from personal experiences and/or past/current events?
I get a lot of inspiration from my historical research. Lucky for me, Scottish history is bursting with fascinating characters, murder, and mayhem. J

For this series, I was able to take a research trip to Scotland that was incredibly inspiring. Everywhere I went, I seemed to find new places I wanted to bring into the books. The faery glen on the Isle of Skye, which is the site of a couple of important scenes in THE CHIEFTAIN, is in the book because of that trip. If you are interested, I’ve put together a photo album for each of THE RETURN OF THE HIGHLANDERS books & posted them on the videos page of my website, www.MargaretMallory.com.

2. Do you start with the conclusion and plot in reverse or start from the beginning and see where the story line brings you?
I start with the characters and their conflict. Before I begin writing the book, I do character sheets, and I usually have two or three pivotal scenes in my head. I also try to have at least a sketchy outline of the plot. I have to figure out a lot of things as I go, but I write better when I know the basic direction I’m headed.

Deciding exactly where to start the story is hard—at least it is for me. A good book doesn’t start at the logical beginning, but at a high dramatic point, with one or both main characters on the cusp of change. I never have trouble in the middle, as a lot of writers do, but the first few chapters take me forever to write, in part because I’m still getting to know my characters.

What is your routine when writing? Any idiosyncrasies?
I’m not a fast writer, so I guess my routine is to work a lot! To meet my deadlines, I generally work long hours, six or seven days a week. Writing a historical every six months, is challenging, especially when there are so many other things an author has to do these days besides write books. I do get a break between series, which is good.

Q & A with Sue-Ellen Welfonder

It’s a pleasure to be here.  You’ve asked insightful questions, so this is a great way to wind down the blog tour.

CR:  Do you draw from personal experiences and/or past/current events?
SEW:  Yes.  I believe all writing has its roots deep inside the author.  Every experience, our likes and dislikes, beliefs and views, flow into the work.  Each written word is a piece of the writer’s psyche.  My medievals are influenced by special places I’ve visited in Scotland.  So are my Allie Mackay titles (Scottish-set contemporary paranormals), which also include many things that have happened to me on trips to Scotland.  It all ends up in the books.  If you know the writer, you’ll see her in every drop of ink on the page.

Current events might spark an idea in an Allie Mackay title.  The past always inspires me and I love Scottish medieval history.  The most fleeting reference can tantalize, sending my imagination on a journey that results in a new book proposal.  (or a neat plot twist for a work-in-progress). 

CR:  Do you start with the conclusion and plot in reverse or start from the beginning and see where the story line brings you?
SEW:  The beginning and through to the end.  I know the whole story before I type the first word.  That’s how my ideas come to me.  Once I start writing and the characters come alive, they sometimes have ideas of their own.  The planned route may take a slight detour.  But the destination remains the same.  It’s such character-inspired twists that breathe magic into a story.

CR:  What is your routine when writing? Any idiosyncrasies?
SEW:  I have a daily writing goal of 3,000 words.  To achieve that, I write in 1,000 word spurts.  Between writing sessions, I break to walk my dog, cycle and exercise, walk the beach, make lunch, do household chores, etc.  Because I’m a night owl, much of these activities happen between 9 a.m. and noon.  I edit in the afternoon.  My best writing happens after midnight, with me going to bed about 3 a.m.

Idiosyncrasies?  A big one is ‘going silent’ at deadline.  I ignore email, avoid the phone, and head the other way if I spot a chatty neighbor when I’m walking my dog (letting her ‘catch me’ would trap me for an hour of ‘small talk’ when I should be writing).  I listen to classical and New Age music (no words).  I wear a special rune pendant for good luck.  I believe every writer’s office should include a cherished pet.  I dislike chapter openings but know the words flow once I have the first line or two, so I sometimes type “XXX…” and move on, going back later to add a ‘good’ opening.  I must know the hero and heroine names before I begin their story.  I could list more, but won’t.  I believe all writers have ‘peculiarities.’

Thank you so much for inviting me today.  This was a lovely end to a fabulous tour. (said with a wink and a smile at Margaret, too)

Highland Blessings!
Sue-Ellen Welfonder
www.welfonder.com

          

ABOUT THE BOOKS

In THE CHIEFTAIN, Connor, chieftain of the MacDonalds of Sleat, holds the fate of his people in his hands. Rival clans are plotting to take over his lands, and duty determines whom he will fight, trust . . . even marry. Beautiful Ilysa dresses plainly, speaks softly, and loves her chieftain from afar. Yet when Connor finally stokes the embers of desire that have so long burned within her, Ilysa feels bliss unlike any she’s ever known.Can she find a way to prove she is the woman he needs by his side?

In SEDUCTION OF A HIGHLAND WARRIOR, Chieftain Alasdair MacDonald has sworn to preserve the peace in the Glen of Many Legends. Though he’s handsome and fearless, his warrior’s heart belongs only to his beloved land-until the fair sister of his oldest enemy shatters his defenses. Lady Marjory Mackintosh will do anything to unite the warring clans, even seduce Alasdair MacDonald. She has loved the rugged Highlander since she first saw him and now, as temptation leads to surrender, Marjory dares to possess him, body and soul.

BOOK DETAILS

THE CHIEFTAIN
PUBLICATION DATE: February 26, 2013
ISBN: 9780446583114
FOR MORE INFORMATION click here
SEDUCTION OF A HIGHLAND WARRIOR
PUBLICATION DATE: January 29, 2013
ISBN: 9780446561792
FOR MORE INFORMATION click here

THANKS TO JULIE, FROM GRAND CENTRAL PUBLISHING,
TWO LUCKY WINNERS WILL RECEIVE BOTH BOOKS
U.S. RESIDENTS ONLY

CLICK HERE FOR THE 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 affiliate.
I am providing link(s) solely for visitors
that may be interested in purchasing this Book/EBook.

Guest Author Concetta Bertoldi

Tomorrow is the day for love.  Did you know that Valentine’s Day is the 2nd most popular day for card sharing?  And what better way to spend it then with an author who has written about love and beyond.  So I ask, for you to help me in welcoming Ms. Concetta Bertoldi to CMash Reads!

CONCETTA BERTOLDI

Concetta is a full-time medium with a two-year waiting list, who regularly is consulted by members of Britain’s royal family, American celebrities, politicians, and others. She also is a New York Times bestselling author who has been featured in TIME Magazine and on NBC’s Early Today. Her books include: DO DEAD PEOPLE WATCH YOU SHOWER?; DO DEAD PEOPLE WALK THEIR DOGS?; and, her latest, INSIDE THE OTHER SIDE.
Visit Concetta at her blog here.

If you are in the New York area, Ms. Bertoldi will be at The Duplex tomorrow.  Stop by and visit!!

Q &A with Concetta

Concetta could you tell us what your prime motivation was knowledge wise in creating your book Inside the Other Side?
Well the subtitle tells a lot about that: Soul Contracts, Life Lessons, and How Dead People Help Us Between Here and Heaven. I wanted to let people know that this world is not all there is. Here we have many struggles and it can seem meaningless. But it all has meaning – just aren’t aware, we forget the agreements we made with God before coming here. When we go back “home” to the Other Side, everything is clear to us again. It’s all for our betterment, our spiritual growth. I just want people to know that their lives are important; we don’t come here “for nothing.” And while we are here we have the full support of our guardians, the souls of others who have crossed before us or who have opted to stay on that side specifically to help us while we are here.

Would you give our readers a bit of background on how you originally opened up to your abilities?
I opened up to my abilities as a child, ever since I can remember I have heard angels, spirits, loving souls speaking to me who wanted to be heard. I was lucky to have such understanding parents – my father’s father had a similar gift – who did not judge me or try to tell me it wasn’t real. Even though my mother was a little bit afraid of it all, they both encouraged me to embrace the Other Side.

Ok, I am a testicular cancer survivor and had a physically abusive father and mentally had a pretty rough childhood. I hear Capricorns usually do. I am curious to the perspective of soul contracts with scenarios like these. Could you share some wisdom on this?

Every soul born to this side comes here for the growth of his or her soul. Each of us is both here to learn and to teach. We learn through our interactions with others here, through our experiences – whether to do with our relationships, our health, and our work. We learn about our feelings, we learn about the affect we have on others. We can learn specific lessons like trust or courage. And whether overtly – say, in speaking or writing a book or becoming a teacher – or simply by the example of our behavior, our life, we all teach others while we’re here. Each of us have good and bad in our lives, joyful time and difficult times. It’s what we take and transform from them that counts toward our spiritual development.

So how do dead people help the living out exactly? Could you give us some examples?
There are so many ways, from simply giving comfort in difficult circumstances to helping us find lost items, from car keys to important papers – anything, really, to bringing people together who need to be in touch for some reason, whether for love or for something they are meant to do together. They can even help us right some wrong that has been done or help us know the truth about a puzzling situation. A short time after I first went public a woman came to me and told me that her sister had died after being in an accident. She’d been badly hurt and had had her leg amputated. She’d been recovering and expected to go back to work when she was found dead in her bed f a gunshot wound. The death was ruled a suicide. This woman was very upset that her sister would kill herself. When I did the reading, I heard a spirit saying that it had not been suicide. I don’t now recall the specifics, and to be honest, it’s unusual for me to have this kind of reading, but whatever was said, this woman got the information she needed to look more closely into the death. I don’t tend to follow up on my readings – usually when I learn an outcome it’s from the individual I read for or someone who knows them. So it was much later that I heard that it was discovered that the gunpowder was on the wrong hand, indicating this lady did not shoot herself, and that her husband had been convicted of the murder. A reading may not give exact information, but this woman was looking for something when she came to me and she was able to take the message and put the pieces together.

What exactly happens when we die? Would you share with us the transition of going through death?
Well, I’m not a doctor so can’t give any explanation as to what happens to us physically, other than that I can say that the soul, of course, leaves the body and returns to the Other Side of the veil, where it came from in the first place. When we die, it is a homecoming, a celebration for most of us. We are met by those we knew and loved on this side who crossed over before us. We meet all our many guardian angels and the spirit masters. All is made known to us – how we affected others, the differences we made, the mistakes we made, what we could have done differently. The Other Side – or call it heaven if you like – is a beautiful place. Love, compassion, forgiveness – all is waiting for us.

Why do we come here exactly to the Earth? I really have wondered if it is forced at times. Or if I am a fallen angels cast down into the bible belt of the South as punishment for some past misdeeds. Probably not true or could be. Smile. Your thoughts on why we incarnate here exactly? Why not just stay in heaven?
LOL!! Oh, to stay in heaven…wouldn’t that be great?  But it’s not realistic. We come here to learn, to grow, to become more like God. We could be sent among folks who seem very different from ourselves. It’s a real challenge to look for our commonality. But the truth is that we are all one. That in itself is a big lesson, but I don’t know that it’s a lesson that would be the entire make-up of someone’s “soul contract” for a lifetime here. We usually have a number of things we are working on simultaneously. Patience with others who frustrate us could well be one of your lessons, but there are certainly many others. Each of us has our own unique customized agreement with God. The “why”, all the answers will be made known to us… eventually.

I deal with negativity a lot and my father who has passed away also dealt with it a lot. It seems to plague my family a whole lot. What are some ways to overcome this and could you go into Negativity a bit with us?
If only we could get rid of negativity all together !!!!  Join the club. I understand what you are saying because I am married into it and have a family of history of it. In a scenario of negativity, everyone involved has a choice to make, either to be negative, or to take another road. It doesn’t even matter “who started it.” At any point, you can shut it down for yourself and set a different example for anyone else who may be part of it. Grow beyond what you have been born into, It’s all about choices, we all have free will and it’s not necessary to just go along with what everyone else is doing. At any point we can choose to embody the energy of love instead of choosing to be part of the dark energy of negativity. I talk in my book about making deposits into a karmic bank with our acts and our words. If we’re the one being negative, it’s not easy to walk away from what can be so ingrained in our behavior that it feels like a big investment. But investing in negativity will ultimately bring us down, and can bring down others around us, and we end up with a huge karmic debt for later in our life or for the next life, or even many lives beyond this one. It’s not necessary to put our souls in that position. We can work with our own negativity and the negativity of others while we’re here and it can be like the sand that irritates, but ends up making a pearl.

So what is your perspective on why there is evil in the world or why it is allowed by God exactly? Like the Sandy Hook incident and war etc. I struggle with things like these and also with the Christian religion that seems so blood soaked. Curious to your perspective on this.
Everyone wants to know Why? On this side there are so many unanswered questions. Even knowing what I do about the way things work on a spiritual level, I still have always asked why God would allow this or allow that, Heaven is a perfect place; this side is the veil of tears. On this side we struggle with negativity, with things that seem “unfair” or just downright brutal. I feel on very thin ice when I try to read God’s mind on these matters. Even when I personally don’t understand I choose to trust God, have faith in God, knowing in my heart there is a purpose to all God creates, although that is a hard thing to accept when something terrible happens to you or someone you care about. I do know that there are two sides to these kinds of stories. What we would call “the perpetrator” and what we would call “the victim(s).”

In our many lifetimes of spiritual growth we are asked to play every role at some point. We are both the abuser and the abused – sometimes we may even play both roles in the same life. Until we reach spiritual perfection we all have a capacity for cruelty on some level. I can tell you my true belief that the children and teachers who died at Sandy Hook came here for that purpose, it was part of their agreement before coming here. Particularly the children were highly evolved souls who knew they were coming for only a short time in order to set an example, to set other wheels in motion. Any time something like this happens, whether it is a local tragedy or a world war, many other changes are set in motion by and for people both close to the situation and far away. Nothing happens for no reason.

Everything has purpose. It has a large, far-reaching effect and many souls are changed by it. And I hope I don’t sound unfeeling to say that often out of our deepest sorrows something very beautiful will be born simply because we cannot accept the void created by such terrible loss and are motivated to do something that will honor the memory of who or what we lost. The role played by the perpetrator – whether an individual acting alone or a gang or an army made up of thousands – is an especially tragic one. That individual also made an agreement before coming here.

I am not God so I could not tell you whether that individual lived up to his agreement, but I can tell you that when harm is done, very heavy karma is attaches to those acts and it can take many, many lifetimes to balance it. In this life, each one of us has our own particular pain to face. If we truly are seeking a “Why” these experiences will bring us more knowledge, more understanding, more empathy. I don’t think we ever can understand it all here on earth, we are too limited in all things. The Christian religion is another whole subject – I have many questions about that too. It has always amazed me how humans have fought bloody wars, criticized others, made useless judgments all in the name of religion. Meanwhile God is all LOVE and COMPASSION.

Could you share some stories of the dead interacting with the living with us?
My mother, father, and brother have all gone to the Other Side, but every day they are still a part of my life living here on earth. They constantly are interacting with me. During the Sandy storm my husband and I had to leave our home. We were lucky to have friends who could take us in so compared to others we were reasonably OK. But it was impossible not to be affected by the struggles and suffering all around us in New Jersey. It was a very anxiety-ridden and stressful experience. In the midst of all that, my mother came to me, and very simply said that we always need to remember that here is not where life is …there – heaven – is where real life is. It’s funny that this thought could be so calming but I felt so much better even with all the destruction around me and knowing that they stand next to us, these spirits of loved ones who are looking after us, in good times and bad.

Another of my favorites I told in my first book, Do Dead People Watch You in the Shower? I had done a reading for a couple who told me this one. As a young, broke couple they’d bought a house from a man they knew who was going into a nursing home. They didn’t love his taste, but didn’t have money for new furniture so agreed to buy it furnished, and not long after, the man who had sold it to them passed away, leaving no relatives. Sometime later, the young woman began having a recurring dream, featuring, of all things, the old man’s couch. Eventually the couple scraped together a little money and were able to replace the couch – they had chosen another one and the old one would be removed by the guys who were delivering the new one. But the night before the young woman again had the dream, but still didn’t know what it meant. The next day as the couch was being carried out she literally heard a voice saying insistently, “Look in the couch.” She said, “Stop!” and began to lift cushions and actually tear the couch apart. Lo and behold she found several thousand dollars the old man had stashed there, and clearly badly wanted this young couple to have.

Can you tell us anything about some of your interactions with Britain’s royal family or celebrities and politicians regarding some of your counseling?
I don’t like to kiss and tell. However while reading for Sarah (The Duchess of York) I heard from Princess Diana. Very often the souls on the Other Side will use someone here to send a message to others and she asked Sarah to send her love to her sons. She told of a future wedding and children coming to the family. She confirmed to Sarah that she was really Diana  by reminding her of a time when Sarah borrowed a pair of shoes from Diana – there was an amusing story attached to the shoes, which I won’t go into, but Sarah immediately remembered the incident and confirmed it. I loved it that a duchess would borrow shoes from a princess.

What is Concetta Bertoldi up to next book wise and projects wise? Also any links you would like to share? Thank you for the interview!
I am always “filing thoughts” – questions I’m asked by people who write to me or things I think of on my trips. Amazing things I see and hear about – I think about how those things relate to the big questions everyone has about our existence here and on the Other Side. My husband and I love to travel. I especially love going to places where there is a lot of history – I love hearing the souls who still linger in these places telling me their stories. Getting out and about in the world has shown me how connected we all really are. We all are interested in the same things; we all want the same things. I just have so much love for the whole human race – all colors, religions, black or white, straight or gay, Muslim, Christian, Jew, or Hindu. Everyone has something wonderful to share. So I’m looking forward to doing even more traveling, meeting more people, doing more events around the country and the world.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Synopsis (from Amazon):

Psychic medium Concetta Bertoldi knows how it is: Heaven is perfection. Life on Earth is the tough part.

It’s here we need to meet challenges, learn lessons, and grow spiritually even as we cope with our sense of “aloneness” and “not enough-ness” or the loss of a loved one. Through all of this our guardian angels, those who have crossed to the Other Side—or “the dead guys,” as Concetta calls them—offer us loving, behind-the-scenes assistance.

In Inside the Other Side, Concetta explains the importance of the agreements we make with God before being born into a new physical life. She gives advice on dealing with life’s difficult issues: from relationships to a lack of abundance, from illness and aging to coping with loss. Concetta’s wise, witty, and uplifting assistance will help you get more in touch with the Other Side so that you can call on your own angels whenever they are needed the most.

Book Details

Inside the Other Side:
Soul Contracts, Life Lessons, and How Dead People Help Us, Between Here and Heaven
By Concetta Bertoldi
William Morrow Trade Paperback; July 17, 2012
256 pp; $14.99
ISBN 978: 0-06208740-9
Will also be made available as an e-book

THANKS TO CAROLE, AT MERYL L. MOSS MEDIA,
I HAVE FIVE (5) COPIES TO GIVE AWAY
OPEN TO RESIDENTS OF U.S. AND CANADA

CLICK HERE FOR THE ENTRY PAGE

media muscleMLMLOGO

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 Laurel Dewey

We all have our lists, albeit TBR, wishlist, books read, etc.  Well I have another one, “authors to read” list, which I have all my favorite authors that I enjoy reading their works.  Many that are published by The Story Plant.  That’s why I’m so excited today.  One of the authors on that list is stopping by today to tell us all about her latest novel.  Please help me welcome back Ms. Laurel Dewey!!!!

LAUREL DEWEY

Laurel Dewey was born and raised in Los Angeles. She is the author of two nonfiction books on plant medicine, a Silver Spur nominated Western novella, hundreds of articles, and three other novels in her Jane Perry suspense series, Protector, Redemption, and Revelations along with the Jane Perry novelettes An Unfinished Death and Promissory Payback and the story collection Unrevealed. She is also the author of the novel Betty’s Little Basement Garden.
Visit Laurel at her website, Facebook and Twitter.

ABOUT THE BOOK

After the life-altering ending in the third Jane Perry thriller, REVELATIONS, Jane Perry takes time off from the job to find the missing part of herself she never knew existed. But her journey is quickly hijacked when a wanted criminal, Harlan Kipple, steals her car. Kipple—accused of the heinous murder of a prostitute in a seedy motel—is on the run and desperate to stay that way. Jane’s personal plans take a back seat as she tracks down her stolen ride and discovers through an unusual source that Kipple may be innocent and is being framed by a nefarious group. When she trails Kipple and confronts him, every belief she ever had about this world and the next is put to the test.

Kipple, who by his own admission is not the “brightest bulb in the box,” received a heart transplant seventeen months ago. His life changed from the moment he woke up in the recovery room. In fact, he’s not so sure where he ends and his heart takes over. As strange as that sounds to her, Jane cannot deny what she witnesses after spending just two days with Kipple. It becomes clear that nothing is what it appears as Jane is drawn into a deep rabbit hole with dark webs and darker crevices that force her to operate on the other side of the law. With the police hot on Kipple’s tail and a devious faction intent on finding him first, Jane is caught in the middle and realizes that solving this crime could have fatal consequences.

With themes as diverse as immortality, regeneration, resurrection, transformation and death, author Laurel Dewey tackles this latest Jane Perry novel with originality and plenty of suspense. “Finding yourself” takes on a whole new meaning in KNOWING.
Read my review here.

Read an excerpt:
Sergeant Detective Jane Perry rolled to an abrupt stop in front of the gas pumps and checked the time. 7:17. It had been exactly seventeen minutes since she left her house on Milwaukee Street in Denver and headed south on I-25 but it felt like hours. Lately, reality had revolved in a surreal sphere, and Jane was looking forward to jumping off the mind-bending roller coaster and getting some heartfelt perspective on her life. But all that would have to wait now.If Jane were still a smoker, she would have extinguished four cigarettes since she left her house. Even though it had been over eleven days since she was sucker punched by the news, the rawness of that first moment when she saw the truth in black and white was still fresh and stung like venom, hot and unforgiving. Nicotine would soften the edges but she’d made a promise to herself to quit, so she’d have to figure out how to steer through this oozing emotional wound without the comfortable dulling of pain.
That was proving more difficult as the days progressed. In one moment, Jane’s world not only blew apart, but her entire identity split with it. She’d spent the past days dredging up her turbulent young life yet again—propelling her heart back into the chaos—searching for clues in the multitude of unspoken words and wondering how she missed the torturous secret her mother chose to keep. Unfortunately, her memories had been fogged by time and over twenty years of abusing the bottle. If there was any sign of what was hidden long ago, it was now buried in layers of regret and omission.Jane rolled down her window and adjusted the side mirror on her ’66 ice blue Mustang. She took in a deep breath, hoping it would abate her temp- tation for tobacco. The cool, mid-April breeze belied the promise of spring, even though March and April were known in Colorado as the wettest and snowiest months of the year. As Jane canvassed the flattened landscape so common for this section of the state, there was still no sign of the Isis of rebirth—no lush green panoramas to sink her teeth into and inhale the beauty. All that lay in eyesight were varying shades of taupe, edged by the blacktop of the frontage road. How was it possible for anything verdant to emerge from this lifeless topography? The sheer energy it took for Colorado to rise from the frozen ashes of winter never ceased to amaze and confound Jane. While the rains had abated over the last twenty-four hours, an uncommon moisture still clung in the normally dry morning atmosphere that lent a dampened spirit to her journey.
Jane leaned outside and caught her reflection in the side mirror. No, it couldn’t be, she thought. Moving closer to the mirror, she parted her shoulder length brown hair and found a cluster of gray. When did this happen? Had she been so preoccupied with the events of her last case that she failed to notice the preamble to death painted on her crown? She studied her brown eyes in the mirror and noted the bags underneath—badges of a hard fought life where sacrifice trumped freedom. Crinkling her nose, Jane forced the lines around the corner of her eyes to deepen. She could chalk it up to too much smiling but anyone who knew her would disagree since Jane Perry’s personality was not synonymous with grinning. She let out a hard sigh of resignation. How in the hell did she get so goddamned old in just thirty-seven years?She leaned over and locked her Glock in the glove compartment on top of her badge. Even though her anticipated seven-day trip was purely personal, she never traveled without her service weapon. It was an anchor and a steel security blanket. Swiping her credit card, she selected the highest-grade gasoline for her cherished classic ride and filled the tank. A gust of wind blew across the service station, forcing Jane to button the collar of her leather jacket. She turned and surveyed the smattering of vehicles filling up at this early hour. Jane had always been a student of observation; always keenly taking in the minute details in front of her. That ability ran on autopilot and served her well as a cop when she had to recreate a homicide scene.But lately, she’d taken to counting objects that were grouped together. It had almost become an obsession; something to indulge her addictive mind. At that moment, there were three cars, including hers, at the islands. There were seven islands, each with three options for fuel. But four of those fuel pumps were covered with yellow tape, marking them out of order. So, readjusting it, there were seventeen fuel handles available. Ironic, she mused. When she rolled into the gas station and looked at the clock, it was 7:17, which was seventeen minutes after she left her house. Odd.She’d come to know these as syncs, clusters of seemingly disparate words, digital times on a clock, names, symbols or numbers that kept cropping up in such a way to herald a hidden message. While some of the syncs had been easy to decipher, most proved mystifying, leaving Jane to feel she either wasn’t smart enough to understand the significance or that the message itself wasn’t ready to be heard. This concept may have occupied illogical territory, but even the most logical human being has been guilty of latching onto a sign from above or below in an attempt to give meaning to an experience.As much as Jane Perry primarily used her logic, these last few years had introduced her to phenomena that defied rational sense. The more she fought it, the more the strangeness attacked like a serpent, demanding to be acknowledged. More than anything, she couldn’t escape the weird coincidences and syncs that plagued her daily life and infested nearly every homicide she worked. The constant dovetailing of events was so common now that she no longer questioned the mystical belief of entanglement with other humans, both dead and alive.The fuel pump clicked but Jane kept squeezing the handle in an attempt to force every last drop of gas into her tank. She noted the signage on the pump warning against “topping off” your tank and some reference to “creating a cleaner, greener planet.” Fuck that shit, she thought. She had a long drive in front of her and her hungry Mustang needed to be fed as much liquid “grass” as possible. When she finally filled it to overflowing, Jane removed the nozzle and hooked it back on the pump. Just as she did, she sensed the presence of the attendant behind her, ready to make a smartass comment. She turned, ready to verbally tackle him with her well-worn bravado. Yet to her astonishment, there was no one there. Jane spun around and scanned the immediate area, looking for any sign of an attendant in the vicinity but she came up empty. She chalked it up to a lack of sufficient caffeine, even though she’d already knocked back three cups of coffee in the last two hours. While gas station java swill wasn’t her first choice, it would have to do.Inside the small Quik Mart convenience store, Jane found four aisles stuffed to the gills with every known junk food. Besides the corpulent woman behind the cash register who crunched on a greasy pork rind, the only other occupants were a beefy biker and a scrawny teenage boy who was loading up on enough “crack in a can” energy drinks to keep him awake until he stroked out. A small television, located above the cash register, was turned on with the sound muted. Jane briefly glanced up as a booking photograph of a heavyset man filled the screen. His wavy brown, scraggly hair matched his unkempt beard and mustache. His name flashed underneath the photo: Harlan Kipple, age forty-two.Jane knew all about Kipple, although she’d never met him. For almost fourteen days, he had been enjoying “three hots and a cot,” courtesy of the Denver penal system. She would have caught the case but Kipple committed his crime southeast of Denver in Limon, Colorado and was only kicked to Denver because of his heinous, high profile crime and to insure he was secured prior to trial.
Kipple, an Interstate truck driver with only one past infraction of transporting illegal prescription drugs in his rig for his brother-in-law, had been accused of the macabre butchering of an unidentified black prostitute. It was your classic open and shut case since Kipple had been found in a dingy Limon motel, passed out in bed with the working girl, clutching a bloody hunting knife and covered in her blood. To make the case even more depraved, the poor girl had been gutted like a deer and her head cracked open, leaving her brain draped outside of her skull. As expected, drugs were involved and that part of the murder made Harlan Kipple nefariously notorious. Lab reports showed he injected the girl with ketamine hydrochloride—a PCP analogue used as an anesthetic in veterinary medicine but gaining popularity on the street as a date rape drug. Known on the club scene as “Special K,” “Super K,” “KO” and “Make Her Mine”, ketamine was distinguished from other date rape drugs in that it produced a dissociative anesthesia, rendering the victim detached from all bodily sensations but often aware of what was being done to them and yet paralyzed and unable to respond. Picture being encased in a glass ball, while watching the unthinkable happen to you and having no way to fight back. It was the ultimate torture because if the victim survived the attack, they usually suffered from amnesia but were prone to subsequent, suddenly triggered vivid hallucinations that replayed the rape or attack, forcing the victim to question their reality. To Jane, ketamine was the epitome of a true mind-fucking drug that left its twisted mark on survivors for many years. As for the unsuspecting prostitute that Kipple mutilated, her last minutes were likely spent watching herself being raped and then filleted open until the grace of God separated her body from her soul.But the incongruity of Kipple’s case didn’t end there. About two years prior to the grisly murder, he had been given a life-saving heart transplant—a surgery that nearly ensured him another healthy two decades of life. The fact that those years would now be spent confined to a cell and probably end in execution was God’s little irony, Jane deduced. What a waste of a good heart, she recalled thinking when the story broke.Kipple’s face lingered on the television inside the Quik Mart. The press named him “Kipple, the Heartless Killer.” Nothing works like an obvious alliteration when you’re selling freaks to the public. Jane stared at his photo, searching out the darkness that always lingered behind the eyes of all psychos. But Kipple was a tough nut to crack. Instead of the penetrating evil, there was a strange softness and quiet sweetness that projected from his photo. Good God, was she losing her touch?“Can I help you?”Jane turned away from the screen to find the cashier staring at her, a speck of pork rind dotting her upper lip. “I need strong coffee.”The woman pointed her fat finger toward the back of the store, in the corner next to the bank of refrigerated shelves. Jane glanced outside to her Mustang and then quickly walked to the rear of the store. She selected the strongest brew available and the largest cup, filling it to the rim. Searching for the sugar, she tipped over the plastic bowl that held the packets. She counted them as she put them back in the bowl. Seventeen. She snapped the lid on the cup and carried it around the corner of the aisle, staring momentarily at the array of artery-clogging snack foods that lined the shelves. She looked up briefly to glance at her waiting Mustang before searching the selections for anything remotely healthy. It was another promise Jane made to herself after recently escaping what she assumed was a death sentence. She found herself drawn to the pine nuts, even though she never would have made that choice a few weeks ago. She squinted to read what was written across the front of the bag in green lettering: ENJOY THESE NUGGETS OF NATURE FROM THE PINECONE! The price was right for the small bag, a buck seventy.Jane grabbed all eight bags on the shelf as she felt the burly biker walk behind her. For some strange reason, he hovered awfully close. She allowed the intrusion to continue for another few seconds before spinning around. But there was no one standing there. The biker was, in fact, on the opposite side of the store. Jane stood still, sensing a muscular thickness around her; a phantasm imprint that lacked clarity. A few years ago, she would have ignored this curious feeling but she’d learned the hard way that the more she pretended it away or chalked it up to booze, flashbacks, PTSD or lack of sleep, the more dynamic it became.Jane waited, looking into nothingness yet still clearly aware of the unassailable presence around her. She started to turn right but was drawn to the left. Moving around the aisle, Jane stood at the long magazine rack that framed the front windows. Cradling the eight bags of pine nuts, she made her way toward the cashier when she heard the soft brush of a magazine fall to the vinyl floor behind her. Jane turned to find a copy of “The Q”—a glossy, men’s sports and outdoor magazine—splayed open, cover side up. She leaned down, picked up the magazine and replaced it on the shelf. Turning toward the cashier, Jane took a step and heard the magazine fall behind her again. She stopped. The phantasmal stickiness gripped her like a defiant child demanding her attention. Jane carefully turned toward the magazine, finding it sprawled in the same position as before. She leaned down, turned it over and stared at the advertising found on page seventeen. Against an indigo background lay a mountainous landscape with snowcapped peaks. Featured in the foreground was a woman’s modest wristwatch placed upon what looked like a red satin cloth that stretched from one side of the page to the other. The hands on the watch pointed to 11:17. In the bottom left hand corner, there was an illustration of the “great and powerful” Oz from The Wizard of Oz peeking out from his purple curtained area. In bold, red block letters next to the image, it read:IT’S TIME FOR A CHANGE, DOROTHY.Jane searched on the page for the product or service being advertised and came up empty. She figured “time” related to the woman’s wristwatch and Dorothy correlated to The Wizard of Oz but the rest of the ad was nonsensical. There were no website links or phone numbers that related to whatever they were selling. Avant-garde garbage. That’s what Jane deduced as she inexplicably tucked the magazine under her arm and walked to the cashier. Suddenly, the presence that had hung so closely to her disappeared.“That all?” the chunky woman asked.“That’ll do it.”The woman tapped her greasy finger on a greeting card stand to the left of the checkout. “We got Easter cards on closeout.”Jane regarded the woman with an incredulous stare. Did she actually believe Jane looked like a woman who would send someone an Easter card? Jane glanced at the nearly empty card stand and saw a glittery greeting with the Archangel Gabriel blowing his trumpet. Who in the hell sends Easter cards? Jane peered around the card stand and saw liters of spring water. She grabbed four bottles and added them to her pile. “Okay. That’ll do it.”

“Thirty-three even.” Jane handed the woman a fifty.

The woman opened the register and handed Jane’s change back to her. “Seventeen’s your change.”

“What in the fuck is going on?“ Jane muttered.

“Excuse me?” the woman asked, offended.

“Not you.” Jane’s mind was elsewhere.

The woman dumped the purchases into a plastic bag.

“Uh-huh,” she replied, still affronted. “Hey…” Jane was still lost in thought as she tucked the seventeen dollars into her wallet. “Hey,” the woman stressed, leaning forward.

Jane awoke from her slumber. “What?”

The woman pointed out the front window. “Isn’t that your car driving away?”

Jane turned around just in time to see the back wheels of her ice blue Mustang squeal out of the parking lot. She raced outside, instinctively grabbing for her Glock and coming up empty. The only detail she could make out was the back of a man’s head and his thick neck.

Book Details

Genre: Suspense
Published by: The Story Plant
Publication Date: 12/4/12
Number of Pages: 394
Purchase Links:

          

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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.
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 Duncan Whitehead

Who needs a good mystery, to curl up with, during this very cold winter?  Our friend Rebecca, from The Cadence Group is stopping by to introduce us to today’s guest.  Please help me in welcoming Rebecca and author, Duncan Whitehead!!

DUNCAN WHITEHEAD

Duncan Whitehead was born in England in 1967. After a successful career in the Royal Navy where he served in British Embassies throughout South America and saw service in the Gulf War he joined the world of super yachts as a Purser onboard some of the world’s largest private vessels, working for many high profile individuals, being fortunate enough to visit some of the world’s most luxurious and exotic places.

Eventually retiring to Savannah, Georgia, he began to partake of his greatest passion, writing. Initially writing short stories he finally put pen to paper and wrote The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club, inspired by the quirky characters and eeriness of his new environment. The book, a thriller, which boasts an assortment of characters and plot twists, is set in the leafy neighborhood where he lived.

His passion for comedy saw submissions to many online satire news sites and a stint performing as a stand- up comedian.

He is a former boxer, representing the Royal Navy and an English under 19 team as an amateur and is a qualified teacher of English as a foreign language as well as a former accomplished children’s soccer coach.

In 2011 Duncan returned to South America, spending six months in Brazil and a few months in Paraguay before travelling to the Middle-East and Europe before returning to the United States to settle in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

He is fluent in Spanish and Portuguese and lists his hobbies and passions as cooking, the Israeli self defense art of Krav Maga and the pressure point martial art Dim- Mak.

Duncan has written over 2,000 spoof and comedy news articles, under various aliases, for an assortment of web sites both in the US and UK.

As well as his other activities he performs volunteer work, as a hospice volunteer visitor and teaches English to refugees arriving in South Florida.

He has penned a further novel; a comedy set in Manhattan, The Reluctant Jesus, which is set to be published early 2013 and is working on the script for a potential sit-com.

Duncan has one daughter, Keira, and lives alone.
Visit the author at his website here and Facebook.

GUEST POST

Character Development

The development of the characters for my book – The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club – came about very interestingly.  I had written a number of years ago, two unpublished short stories that had twists at the end.  I used these two separate and standalone stories as the basis of some of the plot and developed certain characters from the original short stories.  The character of Elliot was always going to be a former children’s writer and I needed him to have a pretty plausible back-story so I loosely based him on a real life alderman who lived in my neighborhood. I then rewrote my original short story and used the character of Elliot as the main protagonist.

The character Kurtze I wanted to come across as a nice old man, a sort of Grandfather type figure.  My aim was to make him as approachable, kind and decent as possible…which (and not to spoil the plot) is to  shock the readers when his true (or possibly true) identity is revealed……..

Kelly was a fun character to work with; she is attractive and kind of dumb but deep down is a caring person.  In my mind she kind of resembled Britney Spears, pretty but vulnerable.  She is of course not based on any real person.

The development of The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club characters, the actual women who form the club was also very fun.  I decided to have three characters who though friends, had entirely different backgrounds and conflicting moral standards.

Heidi I saw as a stern looking woman, fierce and kind of a natural leader, her character developed into something abhorrently evil and sinister though it was fun to kind of progress her from a nice, harmless old lady into (and no spoilers) something or someone with a very checkered past.

Carla, who is portrayed on the cover of the book, is an attractive woman to whom the years have been kind.  I based her character on women who pamper themselves and pay a lot of money to retain their figures and partake of plastic surgery.  Her secrets befitted her character, a man hunter, a cougar and a woman who could manipulate thanks to her looks.

Many of the characters have traits of people I know and I used those traits to help me develop each individual character, there is part of someone I know in every character of the book and sometimes in more than one character.

The great thing I feel about the characters in my book is that I can develop them further, especially in the sequel and for those that survive this book there will be more secrets and back-stories that will let readers get to know them even more!

ABOUT THE BOOK

Something is not quite right in the leafy Savannah neighborhood of Gordonston.

As friends and fellow members of her afternoon cocktail club gather to mourn the death and lament the life of Thelma Miller, not all is what it seems.

As old friends vie for the attention of widower, Alderman and mayoral candidate Elliott, jealousies surface and friendships are strained. An old woman with a dark secret and an infamous uncle plots her revenge for a perceived wrong done over thirty years before, a once successful children’s writer with his own secret is haunted by memories of the past and aspiring model Kelly Hudd has just won the trip of a lifetime.

As secrets are revealed and history, both old and recent, unravel and an intertwined web of deceits and lies surfaces in the middle class neighborhood a killer lurks and is anyone really who they seem to be?

A mysterious European gentleman in South America, a young Italian count parading the streets of Paris and a charitable and kind hearted nephew recently arrived from India add to the remarkable assortment of characters in this story of intrigue, deceit and revenge. What is the secret a recently retired accountant is trying to hide and just why did the former showgirl and attractive sixty two year old widow Carla Zipp really have plastic surgery?

As the plot thickens and the Georgia summer temperature rises we discover who is destined for an early-unmarked grave in the wooded park that centers the tree-lined avenues of Gordonston.

A mysterious organization with links to organized crime, a handsome fire fighter who can do no wrong and a trio of widows with deep hidden agendas compound a story of simplistic complexity.

As twists and turns lead the reader to a conclusion that they will not see coming and a sucker punch ending that will leave readers breathless, The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club’s top priority remains the need to chastise the culprit who refuses to ‘scoop’ after his dog walking sessions in their treasured park.
Purchase links:   Amazon     B&N     IndieBound

Fun fact:  February 22 is National Dog Walking Day.
THE GORDONSTON LADIES DOG WALKING CLUB eBook will be on $ .99 promo from February 14 through February 22.

THANKS TO REBECCA, FROM THE CADENCE GROUP,
I HAVE ONE (1) PRINT COPY TO GIVE AWAY.
U.S. RESIDENTS ONLY

 

CLICK HERE FOR THE 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 affiliate.
I am providing link(s) solely for visitors
that may be interested in purchasing this Book/EBook.

Guest Author Pam Jenoff

Ohhhhh what a treat!!  When Liz, from Meryl L. Moss Media/The Book Trib, contacted me about today’s book feature, not only did I think it sounded like a story that I would enjoy, but thought you would too.  So I invited the author to stop by and tell us about it.  So without further ado, Ms. Pam Jenoff!!

PAM JENOFF

Pam Jenoff is the author of several novels, including The Kommandant’s Girl, which received widespread acclaim, earned her a nomination for a Quill Award and became an international bestseller. She previously served as a Foreign Service officer for the U.S. State Department in Europe, as the Special Assistant to the Secretary of the Army at the Pentagon and as a practicing attorney. She received her Juris Doctor from the University of Pennsylvania, her master’s degree in history from Cambridge University and her bachelor’s degree in international affairs from The George Washington University. Pam Jenoff lives with her husband and three children near Philadelphia where, in addition to writing, she teaches law school.
Visit Pam Jenoff at her site here.

GUEST POST

 How do you create a love story during times in history when love and lust were not discussed outside of marriage?

One thing that fascinates me as a writer of historical fiction is the commonalities in people, the way that women in differing time periods had the same feelings and doubts and desires as we do today.  So the love story feels much the same to me.  However, it is certainly true that the conversations were different.  I’m not sure they were often discussed inside marriage, much less outside.  But operating within those societal constraints creates a level of tension that can actually, if managed properly, be very useful in storytelling.

ABOUT THE BOOK

As the world’s leaders gather in Paris following World War I to chart a new political order, one young girl suddenly finds herself at the center of it all in a city full of mysterious figures, foreign intrigue and dark, deadly passions. THE AMBASSADOR’S DAUGHTER (Harlequin MIRA, February 2013, $14.95 U.S./$17.95 CAN.) is bestselling author Pam Jenoff’s long-awaited follow-up to The Kommandant’s Girl and The Diplomat’s Wife.

When Margot Rosenthal’s diplomat father is summoned to Paris in 1919 as a German delegate to help rebuild a new world from the ashes of the Great War, Margot is eager to accompany him and delay her return to Berlin and her wounded fiancé, Stefan, who now feels like a stranger to her.

Although Margot spends her days frustrated by the overcrowded streets of Paris and her nights bored at her father’s dreary political functions, she nevertheless relishes what little freedom she has left before her impending marriage. But Margot’s entire world is suddenly turned upside down when she strikes up new alliances with two separate people, each as different as night and day, but to both of whom Margot is drawn as strongly as a moth to a flame.

As Margot fights to suppress her burgeoning new desires, dark forces are at play, seeking to manipulate her for their own nefarious purposes. With the fate of the world looming, Margot finds herself being used as a pawn in a political chess match played by people who are willing to sacrifice the lives of everyone she holds dear to achieve their goals. For a girl who has never had freedom of choice before, suddenly Margot has too many choices to make, each more harrowing than the last.

Excerpt:

“He considered it important, though, to somehow have a voice at the table, a presence before the Germans were formally summoned. So he had secured an invitation for Papa, an academic who had spent the war visiting at Oxford, to advise the conference. It was important to be there before Wilson’s ship arrived, Papa explained. We packed up our leased townhouse hurriedly and boarded a ferry at Dover.”

THANKS TO LIZ, AT MEDIA MUSCLE, I
HAVE TWO (2) BOOKS TO GIVE AWAY
OPEN TO U.S. AND CANADA RESIDENTS

CLICK HERE FOR ENTRY PAGE

media muscleMLMLOGO

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 affiliate.
I am providing link(s) solely for visitors
that may be interested in purchasing this Book/EBook.

Guest Author Giacomo Giammatteo

We all have had this happen to us.  Read a debut novel that blew us away!  That happened when I read this author’s novel, Murder Takes Time.  Could he do it again?  The answer is YES!!  This is one author that you need to put on your authors to read list!!  And today, I have the distinct honor, to have him back as he begins his VT with PICT!!  Friends, please help me welcome back, Mr Giacomo Giammatteo!!!!

GIACOMO GIAMMATTEO and SLICK

Giacomo Giammatteo lives in Texas, where he and his wife run an animal sanctuary and take care of 41 loving rescues. By day, he works as a headhunter in the medical device industry, and at night, he writes.

Visit Giacomo on his website:     or:     

 

ABOUT THE BOOK

Detective Connie Giannelli’s life has been torn apart several times. First when her mother died and then years later when she found out her Uncle Dominic was in the mob. Her life is about to be shredded again, and this time it could destroy her.

Connie’s love of family and her badge are both threatened when an undercover drug bust leaves two cops dead and the drugs missing. Internal Affairs is looking for any excuse to take her badge, but she’s not worried about them finding the missing drugs—her secrets could prove to be far worse.

Now Connie’s racing against the clock to figure out who killed her partners and took the drugs—dirty cops or Uncle Dominic’s friends. And she has to do it before IA pins the whole damn thing on her.

Read my review here.

Read an excerpt:

BLOOD FLOWS SOUTH: BOOK ILa famiglia è tutto

Family is everything

Dominic Mangini

Chapter 1

A Present for Maria

Brooklyn, New York—Winter 1982

Zeppe Mangini paced the busy sidewalk while nursing a cappuccino. He felt it was a sure sign that the world was falling apart when people sold cappuccino in paper cups, but he sipped the drink to draw warmth and to make himself appear busy. Every few steps he glanced across the street to the apartment at 1255. Tommy Nunzio had lived there since he was a kid. Tonight he would die there.

Zeppe finished his cappuccino, waited for a break in traffic, then half-walked, half-jogged across the street. The horn from a souped-up Camaro blared as he reached the sidewalk. He tugged on his cap, covering a full head of coal-black hair, then nodded to his brother, Dominic, standing by the front steps.

“Dom, you sure there’s no other way to do this?”

“This is the cleanest. He’ll buzz you in.”

Zeppe paused, scrunched his face up a little. “Yeah, but that ain’t right. I’m—”

“Do it.”

Zeppe hit the buzzer, fidgeting as he waited for Tommy to answer. The last time his finger hit this button it was to ask Tommy out for a beer. Now…

“Who is it?”

“Tommy, it’s Zep. Open up.”

They walked into the building and climbed the stairs to the third floor. Zeppe cringed with each groan of the old wood, bringing back images of him and Tommy as little kids, and Mrs. Nunzio hollering at them, warning them about playing on steps. Zeppe took a few seconds to catch his breath, and to calm the rotten feeling he had in his gut, but he couldn’t chase away the image of Mrs. Nunzio. As he reached the top of the third floor, he half expected to be greeted by the sweet aroma of garlic coming from her kitchen.

His face scrunched again, a nervous tic he had since he was kid. “Dom, can’t we buy him a little time?”

“Not on this one,” Dominic said, and stood to the side.

Zeppe knocked on the door, hands shaking more than his stomach ached. After a few seconds the door opened. Dominic moved fast, pushing Zeppe aside while he shoved his gun into Tommy’s stomach. “Keep your voice down.”

Tommy backed up, hands in the air. “What’s going on? What—” His look shifted from Dominic to Zeppe, then back again. He froze, his eyes growing large. “Zeppe, what’s this about?”

Zeppe closed the door with the heel of his foot, never taking his eyes from Tommy.

“You shouldn’t have crossed Vito.”

“That’s enough,” Dominic said.

Tommy cocked his head toward Zeppe, lifting his eyes in a pleading gesture. “Zep, can you help me out?” His voice cracked when he asked.

Dominic raised the gun to Tommy’s head and pulled the trigger. Twice. The small caliber bullets bounced around inside his skull, dropping him to the floor. There was little pain. Even less blood.

Dominic knelt beside him, checked his neck and pulse. The two in the head had done the trick.

“Let’s go,” Zeppe said, but as he reached for the doorknob a noise from the bedroom alerted him. “You hear that?”

Zeppe and Dominic stopped. Listened. A fan hummed in the bathroom and the ever-present noise of the fridge came from the kitchen, but something different from the bedroom. “Turn off the lights,” Dominic said, then crept toward the back room, gun drawn. “I’ll go in low. Hit the light once I’m in.”

Dominic crouched, pushed open the bedroom door and crept forward, his gun leading the way.

Zeppe waited for him to get in, then hit the light. “Mother of God! A goddamn baby.”

Dominic glanced about the room, barely big enough to hold the crib, a rocker, and a small chest of drawers. The baby fussed, tiny hands covering its eyes. Dominic picked the baby up, pried open the diaper, then lay the baby on his shoulder. “It’s a girl. Can’t be more than a few months old.”

Zeppe still had his gun out. “I’ll check the rest of the place.”

He returned in a few minutes, gun tucked into his pants. “Place is clean,” he said. “So what do we do?”

“Call Vito, but use the phone booth. I’ll wait here.”

Zeppe thought about the baby all the way down the stairs. Vito would be pissed; they should have known beforehand. He exited the building, crossed the street and called Vito.

“Hello.”

“Yeah, it’s me. We got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

A long pause, then, “We delivered the message, but we found something unexpected.”

“Don’t make me guess.”

“A baby.”

“How did we not know about a baby?”

“I don’t know. I never heard of no baby, but sure as shit it’s his. Got pictures everywhere, baby clothes, baby food in the fridge and cabinets. A room fixed up.”

Zeppe waited through more silence.

“Leave it.”

“Leave it? Christ’s sake, boss. It could die.”

“Leave it.”

“Okay, you got it,” Zeppe said, and put the phone back on the receiver. Ain’t no way Dominic is leaving that baby.

Head hung low, Zeppe walked back across the street, up the steps, and into the apartment where Dominic waited with the girl. “Vito said leave it.”

Dominic was a small man, but intensity always surrounded him, an aura of danger that even Zeppe wasn’t immune to. He had seen men far bigger than his brother back down after meeting his glare.

“I’m not leaving her,” Dominic said, and he held the girl a little tighter. “Do you know Tommy’s wife? Where is she?”

“I don’t know, Dom. I heard she left him a few months ago, but I didn’t know about the baby. I swear. I wouldn’t have done this if I knew.” Shouldn’t have done it anyway. Goddamnit.

“Did Tommy have family? Brothers or sisters?”

“His brother died last year. Remember?” Zeppe paused. “There might be relatives, but none I know of.” There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of Dominic leaving that baby alone, or with child services. Regardless, Zeppe felt he had to try. “Child services would—”

“I wouldn’t leave a dog with them.”

“Dom, I know how you feel, but—”

“Take her with us.”

“Are you nuts?”

“We shouldn’t be in this situation, Zeppe. It was your job to check this out.” Dominic shook his head then handed the girl to Zeppe. “It’s cold outside. Make sure she’s warm.”

“Okay,” Zeppe said, “whatever you want.” He took the baby from Dominic, and held her close.

“I’ll wipe everything clean.” Dominic looked around, checked where they’d been, then went to the bedroom and got extra clothes, a blanket, diapers, bottles. When he returned, he handed everything to Zeppe, cracked the door and looked down the hall. “Wrap her tight. I don’t want that baby catching cold.”

Zeppe wrapped the blanket around her, making sure to cover her head. “What the hell are we going to do with a baby?” He said it to himself, but Dominic answered.

“Taking her to Maria.”

Zeppe’s head was shaking as soon as Dominic finished. “Dom, you’re my older brother, but you’re as nuts as Maria.”

Dominic turned to face Zeppe. “If you ever say that about Maria again, I’ll kill you.”

They walked to the car in silence. Zeppe handed the baby to Dominic then got behind the wheel to drive. “Where to?”

“First the warehouse, then to Maria’s.”

#

Dominic stared at the baby as Zeppe drove, letting his finger trace along her forehead. “She’s quiet for one so young,” he said, no trace of the vehemence that tainted his voice earlier.

“Yeah, I guess she likes you.”

“And look at those eyes. Such big brown eyes.”

“Beautiful,” Zeppe said, but he never took his eyes from the road.

When the little girl smiled, Dominic smiled with her, but soon afterward turned somber. He thought of the fate Maria suffered because of him. If anyone should have had children it was her, but she refused to marry Dominic because of what he was, and she refused to marry anyone else. He saw the pain when she sat at the playground and watched the children play. Pain she didn’t deserve. Perhaps this was God’s answer to his prayers.

There would be birth certificate issues and people to pay off…but that could be arranged. The bigger problem was getting Maria to accept the baby and then making sure no one ever told the truth. That was the difficult one. Truth had a way of creeping through cracks and oozing to the top, no matter how deep it was buried. He knew he could trust Zeppe, and he could trust Maria…but something in his gut ate at him. This would take careful planning.

Zeppe pulled up to a warehouse. Dominic got rid of the gun and changed clothes. Half an hour later he turned down the street to Maria’s house.

“Turn the corner and park on the street after hers,” Dominic said. “We’ll walk.”

“Dom, it’s cold, and that baby—”

“The baby will be fine in the blanket. I’d rather not be seen on Maria’s street.”

After Zeppe parked, Dominic checked to make sure no one was watching then signaled Zeppe to bring the baby. They walked around the corner and up to Maria’s house.

A few knocks brought Maria to the door, surprise registering on her face when she saw them. “What are you doing here?” Her voice not much above a whisper.

Maria was the same as always—as plain as her tawny hair and as quiet as a church at night. “Came to see my beautiful friend,” Dominic said, and removed his cap.

She brushed her fingers through the sides of her hair. “Beautiful? I’m already graying.”

Dominic hugged her and kissed her forehead. “I love that gray,” he said, then nodded to Zeppe, who handed the baby to Maria.

She went wide-eyed. “Whose baby is this?” She held the girl against her and peeled the blanket back one layer at a time. “She’s so small. Where’s the mother?”

Dominic brushed the baby’s red cheeks with his finger, and nudged her head with his nose, sniffing in her scent. For the second time tonight a smile lit his face. “Babies are so innocent. You can even smell it on them.”

Maria walked through the house, humming a tune while she rocked the baby in her arms. “You didn’t answer me, Dominic. Who does she belong to? Some woman friend of yours?”

“I’m surprised at you for saying such a thing, Maria.” Westminster chimes were signaling the half-hour. Dominic waited for them to stop; they were Maria’s favorite. “We found her on the street corner. She was in a stroller, freezing.”

Maria looked at him, perhaps trying to judge the truth. “I’m sorry, Dominic, it’s just…I thought…” She shook her head and continued walking. “Who would do that to a baby?” She kissed the girl’s head several times. “Poor baby,” she said, then turned to Dominic. “What can we do with her? Did you call those…services people?”

“You know I would never do that; besides, you always wanted a child. Now God has sent you one.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t keep her.” Maria made the statement, blessed herself when she said it, but a plea rode on her words.

“You must keep her. God has given you a gift. Someone who didn’t care abandoned her, now someone who does care will raise her.”

Maria stared at Dominic for a long time, then she hugged the baby as tears formed in her eyes. “There is no way I can keep her, but I will watch her for a while.” She walked with her for a few moments, then said, “In the meantime, I’ll call her Concetta.”

Dominic nodded, a smile on his face. Maria would never let go of that baby. “Concetta Gianelli. A good name.”

“I told you, Dominic, I can’t keep her. What would the neighbors say? They will—”

Zeppe shook his head. “Tell them a relative died. Trust me, they won’t say anything.” He leaned over and kissed Maria on the cheek, then kissed the baby. “I promise you.”

Dominic looked at Maria, then Zeppe. “If Maria keeps Concetta, no one is to know where she came from. Understand? No one.”

“Don’t worry,” Zeppe said. “Just the three of us.”

Maria nodded, clutching the girl as if someone might take her. “Yes, just the three of us.”

Zeppe turned and headed for the door. “I’ll wait outside.”

“Good night, Giuseppe.”

“Yeah, good night, Maria.”

As the door closed behind Zeppe, and Maria walked to the kitchen, Dominic made the sign of the cross, asking God for forgiveness. It was one thing to kill a man—but to take his baby and claim it as a gift from God might be pushing things too far. That was the kind of thing that could haunt a person in both lives. And what will Maria do if she finds out the truth? Even worse, what will this little girl do if she finds out?

 

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Book Details:

Genre: Mystery/Thriller
Published by: Inferno Publishing Company
Publication Date: October 2012
Number of Pages: 421
Note: Excessive Strong Language & Graphic Violence

Purchase Links: 

THANKS TO AUTHOR, GIACOMO GIAMMATTEO, I
HAVE ONE (1) EBOOK VERSION TO GIVE AWAY

OPEN TO ALL

CLICK HERE FOR THE ENTRY PAGE

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best of my ability, no matter who from, where from and/or how the book
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DISCLAIMER
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ADDENDUM
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I am providing link(s) solely for visitors
that may be interested in purchasing this Book/EBook.

Guest Author Frank Nappi

Does today’s guest sound familiar?  Well, it should.  Mr. Nappi was here last month with Nicole from Tribute Books.  And today he is back to tell us about another book.  So I aske that you help me give Mr. Frank Nappi a warm welcome back to CMash Reads!

FRANK NAPPI

Frank Nappi has taught high school English and Creative Writing for over twenty years. His debut novel, Echoes From The Infantry, received national attention, including MWSA’s silver medal for outstanding fiction. His follow-up novel,The Legend of Mickey Tussler, garnered rave reviews as well, including a movie adaptation of the touching story “A Mile in His Shoes” starring Dean Cain and Luke Schroder. Frank continues to produce quality work, includingSophomore Campaign, the intriguing sequel to the much heralded original story and the just released thriller, Nobody Has to Know, which received an endorsement from #1 New York Times bestselling author Nelson DeMille. Frank is presently at work on a third installment of his Mickey Tussler series and his next thriller. He lives on Long Island with his wife Julia and their two sons, Nicholas and Anthony.
Visit Frank at his website, Facebook and Twitter.

GUEST POST
Let Freedom Ring

There are some things in our great country that are timeless: the Grand Canyon and Red Rocks of Sedona; Mount Rushmore and the white sands of Siesta Key Beach; the Golden Gate Bridge at night, and the rows of Cherry Blossoms that stand before the Washington Monument; there are the waterfalls of Yosemite and the hot springs of Yellowstone; and of course, who could forget the Empire State Building and Lady Liberty in New York City?

There are so many wonderful things about The United States of America, all of which remain that way because of a belief that is also timeless — patriotism and our desire to love and defend the constitution, something that enables us to continue to enjoy this spectacular land of ours.

Some people would question whether or not patriotism still has a place in our country today. The answer is simple. If you love this country, and all it has to offer, then you understand the importance of patriotism and accepting the responsibility for maintaining the freedoms we all enjoy.

These responsibilities include reading about issues that affect our nation, exercising our right to vote, and defending our borders in times of war. If all of us contribute to the preservation of our freedom, then we will remain strong and resilient.

It also remains our right and certainly our duty to espouse the importance of reading in order to ensure that we as a society continue to develop in ways that facilitate intellectual growth and knowledge of the inner working of our great country’s leadership. We all have heard and understand the adage “those who do not know history are doomed to repeat it.”

It was in this spirit that I wrote my first novel, Echoes From the Infantry, published in 2005 by St. Martin’s Press and re-released this past June in ebook format by Amazon.

Echoes came to be after I befriended two very special World War II veterans in my community. As I heard their reminiscences I became absorbed in their stories of simple heroism–and of trying to recapture what they’d left behind when they returned home. They are the stories of men who never asked for recognition or adulation, only a place in the free and prosperous society they’d built with their own blood, sweat and tears–men who could never entirely leave behind the horrors of the battlefield, or explain them to their own children.

Shortly after, I synthesized those reminiscences and crafted them into a heartwarming and at times harrowing
novel. It is the fictionalized tale of one Long Island veteran, the misery of combat, and the powerful emotional bond that connected him to his fiancée back home and that allowed him to survive the war with his soul battered but intact.

It is about a father and a son, and their ultimately redeeming struggle to understand the worlds that shaped each one–one a world at war, the other a world shaped by its veterans.

As we celebrate our patriotism and all of the freedom’s that we enjoy, we need to be mindful of our rich history, of our veterans and service men and women presently overseas, and of the role that reading plays in allowing us to honor them.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Echoes From The Infantry is the tale of one Long Island World War II veteran, the misery of combat, and the powerful emotional bonds that brought him home to Rockaway Beach and the love of his life, Madeline Brandt. It is about a father and son, and their ultimately redeeming struggle to understand each other’s worlds – one a world at war, the other shaped by its veterans. Nappi moves artfully between the present and past, weaving a fictionalized tale of this Long Islander’s struggle to reconcile with the demons from long ago and his family’s neverending battle with many of the intangible burdens caused by the private life of a man they never really knew. He touches our hearts with a story of courage and perseverance…a story of men who faced the greatest challenge of their generation.
Amazon purchase link.

Watch the trailer:

THANKS TO AUTHOR, FRANK NAPPI, I HAVE ONE (1)
EBOOK VERSION TO GIVE AWAY. OPEN TO ALL

CLICK HERE FOR ENTRY PAGE

DISCLAIMER
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.