Guest Author SUE WILLIAM SILVERMAN showcase & giveaway ENDED

 

WELCOME SUE WILLIAM SILVERMAN


SUE WILLIAM SILVERMAN

Sue William Silverman’s new memoir is The Pat Boone Fan Club: My Life as a White Anglo-Saxon Jew. Her two other memoirs are Love Sick: One Woman’s Journey through Sexual Addiction, which is also a Lifetime TV movie, and Because I Remember Terror, Father, I Remember You,which won the Association of Writers and Writing Programs award in creative nonfiction. Her craft book is Fearless Confessions: A Writer’s Guide to Memoir.  As a professional speaker, Sue has appeared on The View, Anderson Cooper 360, and more.  She teaches in the MFA in Writing Program at Vermont College of Fine Arts.

Just Thought You Should Know:

Sue William Silverman is also the author the memoirs Because I Remember Terror, Father, I Remember You and Love Sick: One Woman’s Journey through Sexual Addiction, which was made into a Lifetime Television original movie. She also wrote Fearless Confessions: A Writer’s Guide to Memoir and the poetry collection Hieroglyphics in Neon.
Connect with Sue at these sites:

WEBSITE        TWITTER   

 

Guest Post

Who Is That Masked Memoirist?

After my first memoir was published, Because I Remember Terror, Father, I Remember You, I received e-mails from readers who wrote things like, “Sue, I feel like I know you.” I received similar e-mails after publishing Love Sick: One Woman’s Journey through Sexual Addiction. Both memoirs frequently elicit this response – I feel like I know you – even as both books are very different.

With one, readers know who I am as a girl growing up in an incestuous family. With the other, readers know me as an edgy sex addict seeking yet struggling with recovery.
Of course, I’m enormously grateful for these e-mails: I had portrayed my self – or one aspect of myself – the way they perceived me.

Now, with my new memoir, The Pat Boone Fan Club: My Life as a White Anglo-Saxon Jew, readers might see me as a Pat Boone groupie. Or, as a girl who wanted to be Christian growing up – wanting to be adopted by Pat Boone – because the very Christian pop star seemed safer than my Jewish father who abused me.
Isn’t that my goal, after all: to take the flesh and blood me and craft myself into a real, breathing person on the page?

Yes!

But Who Is the Real Me?

While readers of each book might think they know me, how can they know the whole me? As I move from book to book, I wear different masks searching for identity – no, identities. Plural.

Who or which persona is the real me?

As a real person I “contain multitudes” (as Walt Whitman said); we all do. Until written, however, these various facets remain murky. It is only by writing, by carefully selecting relevant details, that I myself become fully able to understand these different aspects that suggest, but do not encompass, the whole person I am.

And, dear writer of memoir, this is the point: don’t limit yourself. Any given memoir is a slice of a life, not a whole life, because every life is multi-faceted. We are daughters, sons, teachers, hobbyists, extroverts, introverts, Democrats, Republicans, feminists, spouses, guitar players, shopaholics, marathon runners, gardeners, foodies, and much more. And each facet is worthy of your writerly attention!

A Core Self

But isn’t there still an essence of me? Of you? Some core? Something—some characteristic or trait that we simply are, that we can’t escape, that will show up in everything we write?
The answer is “yes.” And “no.” Let me explain.

After publishing the first two memoirs, I wanted to write from a more ironic, even humorous perspective. This dovetailed with a desire to explore my feelings toward Pat Boone, a Christian and politically conservative man so squeaky clean he hasn’t even been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame despite the millions of records he’s sold. (In his hay-day, he often out-sold Elvis Presley.) Initially, I figured I could write about Pat Boone without mentioning my father: a sort of light-hearted, baby-boomer coming-of-age story.

That only worked in part.

After all, my feelings toward the wholesome Pat Boone arose in large part because of what happened with my father. I had to introduce that into the new book for context and motivation.

At its heart, the book revolves around three separate times I met Pat Boone and how, ultimately, he did see me in positive ways that my real father never did. In our last meeting, for example, and referring to my childhood, he said he saw me “as a flower growing up through concrete.” In other words, his image of me is that of how a father should see a daughter.

So did Pat Boone see me with my mask, or without it?

I think he saw me with a mask that revealed if not “the” whole, true me, then at least “a” true me – a “daughter,” a flower – who experiences the world through the filter of Pat Boone as an image of safety.

In the new book, additionally, there are other ways I depict myself, which are revealing masks as well: I’m a Jersey girl, a hippy, a temporary Israeli, a dissatisfied wife, and more.

What these masks have in common, in addition to their transparency, is how they form a mosaic of a self, of many different personas that comprise me. Don’t we all – over the course of a lifetime – become different “selves” looking for a common characteristic to tie them all together?

As writers of memoir we get to have our masks and wear them, too.

In short, there are masks that reveal, masks that conceal. What part of your life is a revealing mask? What underlying part of you, the whole person, does that illuminate?

 

ABOUT THE BOOK

Gentile reader, and you, Jews, come too. Follow Sue William Silverman, a one-woman cultural mash-up, on her exploration of identity among the mishmash of American idols and ideals that confuse most of us—or should. Pat Boone is our first stop. Now a Tea Party darling, Boone once shone as a squeaky-clean pop music icon of normality, an antidote for Silverman’s own confusing and dangerous home, where being a Jew in a Christian school wasn’t easy, and being the daughter of the Anti-Boone was unspeakable. And yet somehow Silverman found her way, a “gefilte fish swimming upstream,” and found her voice, which in this searching, bracing, hilarious, and moving book tries to make sense of that most troubling American condition: belonging, but to what?

Picking apricots on a kibbutz, tramping cross-country in a loathed Volkswagen camper, appearing in a made-for-television version of her own life: Silverman is a bobby-soxer, a baby boomer, a hippy, a lefty, and a rebel with something to say to those of us—most of us—still wondering what to make of ourselves.

BOOK DETAILS:

Genre: Memoir
Publisher: University of Nebraska Press
Publication Date: March 1, 2014
Number of Pages: 248 pages
ISBN-10: 0803264852
ISBN-13: 978-0803264854

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Guest Author PRESTON LANG

WELCOME PRESTON LANG

PRESTON LANG

Preston Lang is a freelance writer, living and working in New York City. The Carrier is his debut novel.
Connect with Preston at these sites:

WEBSITE        TWITTER

Q&A with Preston Lang

Writing and Reading:
Do you draw from personal experiences and/or current events?
Definitely. Anything curious that’s happened to me is going to find its way into the work eventually. And for crime fiction writers, the news is like a faucet for ideas—just turn it on and see what kind of foul, sediment-flecked liquid pours out.

Once I read something in the news that was nearly identical to what I was writing at the time—scams involving parrots. I had to change some details around so it wouldn’t seem so obviously pilfered. It ended up not making sense and I junked the whole thing.


Do you start with the conclusion and plot in reverse or start from the beginning and see where the story line brings you?

Sometimes the conclusion is clear from the start, but it doesn’t always work out that way. It’s much easier when it does.

Your routine when writing? Any idiosyncrasies?
My room is very cold in winter and very hot in summer. So either I’m wearing a fleece or my bathing costume.

Is writing your full time job? If not, may I ask what you do by day?
At this point I consider all of the various writings my fulltime job, but I do supplement my income with other work. I’ve taught math and symbolic logic, moved furniture, and played lounge piano. Feel free to contact me if any of those services are needed.

Who are some of your favorite authors?
I answer this question differently every time someone asks. There are so many right answers: James Cain, Herman Melville, George Eliot, Mindy Hung, Richard Stark.

What are you reading now?
Clean Break by Lionel White.

Are you working on your next novel? Can you tell us a little about it?
I’m working on a few things right now. I’ve got an idea for a book about a man who fakes his own drowning. He’s pursued to Brazil by a suave but sketchy detective working for an insurance company, and by an even shadier Quebecoise working for a drug cartel.

Fun questions:
Your novel will be a movie. Who would you cast?
Maybe I’d go old-timey with it: Barbara Stanwyck for Willow and Robert Donat for Cyril. I’m sure he could have pulled off the American accent.

Manuscript/Notes: hand written or keyboard?
Mostly keyboard, but if I’m out of the house I bring pen and paper.

Favorite leisure activity/hobby?
Music. Pretty soon I’ll have a book about musicians who are up to no good.

Favorite meal?
Melon

ABOUT THE BOOK

A Debut Novel in the vein of Tim Dorsey, Carl Hiaasen and Laurence Shames

It’s a bad idea for a drug courier to pick up strange women in roadside bars. Cyril learns this lesson when the girl he brings back to his motel room points a gun at him.

But Willow isn’t the only one after the goods that Cyril’s been hired to pick up. A fast talking sex-offender and his oversized neighbor are also on the trail, as is Cyril’s sinister brother, Duane.

Willow and Cyril soon form an uneasy alliance based on necessity, lust, and the desire for a quick payday. But with so many dangerous players giving chase, will they nab their package?

READ AN EXCERPT

Cyril hadn’t given another thought to the boy in the baseball hat. He assumed the kid had gone back to play pool with his friends or drink beer directly from the pitcher. Cyril turned to the bar and tried to read the scrambled captioning for Monday Night Football. The players hit each other too hard, so he decided to go back to his motel room. He was halfway to the door when the girl stopped him.

“Do you have a second?” she asked.

She was dark-haired with quick, vital eyes, and she had a voice—low and tangy.

“What’s on your mind?” asked Cyril.

“That frat boy and two of his brothers are waiting for you outside.”

“The frat boy?”

“I just thought you should know.”

“Thank you.”

They stood for a moment together, neither one ready to end the conversation.

“Why did you call him a fuck monkey?” the girl asked.

“He was acting… like a fuck monkey.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but what do you gain from pointing it out?”

“It may have been a mistake,” he said.

The frat boy had banged on the bar with a spoon and made two loud yips at a shampoo commercial on the TV screen. Cyril hadn’t raised his voice; he’d politely told the boy to stop acting like a fuck monkey. He thought the boy had taken his suggestion and that all was well.

“So what do you think I should do?” Cyril asked the girl.

“Well, if you really want to impress me, you’ll go out the front and kick all three of their asses with a really cool expression on your face. But if I were you I would probably go out the back way.”

“Where’s the back way?”

“You have to go through the kitchen. Just walk straight through. The dishwashers will probably yell at you; by that time you’ll be out the back door.”

“I’ve got a third option.”

“What’s that?”

“We could sit down and you could tell me your life’s story. By the time you’re done, the boys will probably have called it an evening.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to go?” she asked.

“Not really.”

“You were leaving.”

“I was just going to go back to my motel room, maybe watch TV, maybe steal some soap.”

“You shouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“They find you and they make you pay.”

“Tell me more about this,” Cyril said, motioning to a table.

The girl sat facing the bar, and Cyril sat across from her. He had a view of the door in case angry frat boys charged in, tired of waiting out in the chilly Iowa night. She told him her name was Willow and that she wasn’t with anybody.

“Is there a college nearby?” asked Cyril.

“Graham College. It’s not exactly Princeton. If you can pay tuition, they’ll probably let you in… I go there.”

“What do you study?”

“I’m undeclared,” she said, “You know, I could have told you that Graham College is the best school in the country. Then you would have thought that I was a genius.”

“Well, I have met some of your classmates,” he said, gesturing out towards the open room.

“That’s true. Did you go to college?”

“I’ve taken a few pottery courses.”

Students drank with young energy and bounced around the room; townies sat at the bar and corner tables. Willow and Cyril drank slowly and talked about themselves for an hour.

“It’s getting late,” she said.

“You have an early class tomorrow?”

“You have a motel room?”

“Yes.”

“I think that I would like to see it.”

“It’s about a 15 minute walk.”

“You didn’t bring a car?”

“I don’t drink and drive.”

“You’re a really good example.”

They had been walking almost a minute when they saw the Fuck Monkey approach with two of his frat brothers.

“Hey, you. Asshole, you,” he slurred his words, but he seemed reasonably steady on his feet. His brothers were bigger than he was. Cyril was average-sized and a few years older than an undergraduate.

“Go home,” said Willow to the boys.

“Okay, darlem. You just step back. I’m going to tear up your boyfriend here.”

“What’s darlem?” asked Cyril.

“I think he meant darling,” said Willow.

“I don’t need you to get hurt,” the boy said, still to Willow.

He stepped closer to Cyril. His brothers moved in a bit, but it looked like they were going to let the Monkey do what he could on his own before they stepped in. Cyril did a quick check of the two big guys, and the Monkey shoved him backwards.

“Come on, Les,” said one of the brothers, “Don’t play. Bring the warrior to him.”

“Warrior,” said the other brother in his deepest bass. It wasn’t clear that he respected Les.

Les came at Cyril with a big wild punch. Cyril stepped aside, and Les cursed and spun. Cyril grabbed a hold of Willow and tried to hurry her away, but the brothers blocked their path.

“Fight me,” cried Les.

“Look guys,” said Cyril, “This doesn’t make any sense. You’re all going to get thrown out of school. Think of—“ Suddenly the brothers began to edge away, holding up their hands and stepping backwards. Cyril watched, puzzled, and then he turned to see that Willow had drawn a gun.

“Go home,” she said.

“Bitch is crazy,” said a brother, but they had now turned and were leaving at a jog.

That left Les.

“Go home, Les,” said Willow.

Cyril was not without sympathy for Les’s evening: the unavenged insult, the traitorous brothers. Les’s eyes were drunk and scheming. He hadn’t given up yet.

“If he rushes you, don’t shoot him,” said Cyril.

“I might shoot him,” said Willow.

“Please, go home,” said Cyril.

“You don’t know who you’re messing with,” said Les.

“Do you understand that right now, she can shoot you and not go to jail for it?”

Les said nothing. The insane idea that had careened through his head seemed to have moved on.

“We’re going to walk away now. Please, don’t follow,” said Cyril.

And that’s what they did. Les slumped against the side of a building.

“Is it normal at your school for a coed to walk around with a handgun?” Cyril asked about five minutes later.

“A coed? What is that?

“A female college student?”

“Why is that a coed?”

“I guess when female college students were not all that common, the girls at coeducational schools were called coeds.”

“Well, that’s stupid. These days there’s a lot more girls than boys in school. They should call the boys coeds. Seriously, this place is like 70/30 girls. It’s horrible. And dicks like those guys can get women left and right, because what choice do we have?”

“And that’s why you carry a gun?”

“I’ve got a gun. I mean, aren’t you glad?”

“I suppose.”

“What were you going to do, make a little speech to the fraternity—You’re going to get in soooo much trouble.”

“There might have been more to my plan than that.”

“Well, I didn’t want to risk your pretty face.”

They kept walking, past the main business district and into the darker residential streets. Cyril’s motel was off a side road somewhere close by. He hoped he could find it in the dark, but everything looked very much alike. First he led Willow down the wrong street that ended at an empty lot.

“This is where you’re staying?” she asked.

“I think I’m on the next street.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were leading me down a dark alley on purpose.”

“Why, so you could shoot me?”

Willow smiled. They found his motel, a cheap little two-story chain: the Firstway Inn. He led her to his door, and she watched calmly while he opened it and turned on the light. The room smelled flat and dusty, and only one of the three overhead light bulbs worked.

Willow jumped on Cyril, wrapping her legs around him, toppling him onto the bed. She kissed his face and his neck then worked inside his mouth, biting his inner lip. They tore off their clothes quickly and tumbled off the bed, fucking like they were the only humans left in a world full of zombies. It was a fantasy Willow had sometimes—there’s nothing else out there except mindless death, and we are probably infecting each other. Cyril seemed to get it.

She felt a little lost afterwards—a base note of pleasure under a single shot of panic. Jesus, she thought, I could fall for a guy like this. And then she put on her clothes. When she got to her shoes, Cyril sat up.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.”

Cyril started to get dressed.

“You don’t have to get dressed,” she said, “I just like to have clothes on.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Thank you.”

Willow put on her jacket, and then she pointed her gun at Cyril.

“I’m going to need all the money,” she said.

BOOK DETAILS:

Genre: Crime Fiction
Published by: 280 Steps
Publication Date: March 2014
Number of Pages: 250
ISBN: 978-82-93326-18-2
Purchase Links: Coming Soon

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

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Guest Author CATE BEAUMAN showcase & giveaway

WELCOME BACK CATE BEAUMAN


CATE BEAUMAN

Cate currently lives in Tennessee with her husband, their two boys, and St. Bernards, Bear and Jack. She is the author of the best selling romantic suspense series, The Bodyguards of L.A. County.  Before her career as an author, Cate worked in special education for 12 years.

“I’m a pretty lucky girl; one day I woke up and my entire life changed. I saw the light, so to speak, and decided I was going to be a writer. Now, three years later, I’m working on my seventh novel, Saving Sophie, and I’m an Amazon best selling author.  I’m very grateful for the support and success I have had.  – Cate “
Connect with Cate at these sites:

WEBSITE        TWITTER    

GUEST POST

The Inspiration Behind Justice For Abby

Justice For Abby is one of my favorite stories in The Bodyguards of L.A. County series (Okay, they all are, but I really love Abby and Jerrod!). I truly enjoyed writing their adventure. Oftentimes I found myself caught up in Abby’s rollercoaster ride as she heals from her experiences as a survivor of the Mid-Atlantic Sex Ring. At times I cried with her, and at others, I laughed. She’s so strong and sweet, but she’s vulnerable and struggling. Enter Jerrod Quinn, the perfect man to provide her protection and help her overcome her ordeal in his own quiet way.

Although Abby’s story is one of fiction, sex trafficking is a very real crisis for millions of young women, men, and children all over the globe. My idea for this novel came after a night in front of the television watching crime television. A segment showcasing the mysterious disappearance of a young woman named Amy Bradley bothered me greatly. She vanished from a cruise ship in March of 1998 while vacationing with her family. Unfortunately, Amy has yet to be found, but she is believed to be alive, stuck in the horrific world of human sex trafficking. I immediately began my research into this very troubling epidemic and shortly after wrote Forever Alexa, the story of Abby’s sister dealing with the aftermath of Abby’s disappearance. My readers have requested Abby’s story, and I felt the need to share her experience.

I hope you enjoy getting to know Abby and Jerrod as much as I enjoyed writing these two fantastic characters.

~Cate

The Unofficial Justice For Abby Soundtrack

Music always plays a huge part in my writing process.  With two boys and two dogs in the house, music helps me “get lost” in my story.  I typically listen to Pandora or YouTube and put together a playlist of songs that I feel represent the characters or the situations they face as the novel unfolds.  Here are a few of the songs that I had on “repeat” while I created Jerrod and Abby’s story!  You can listen to them on my website www.catebeauman.com.

The soundtrack, of sorts, for Justice For Abby:

  • Applause by Lady Gaga
  • Safe and Sound by Capital Cities
  • She Is by Ben Rector
  • I Should Go by Levi Kreis
  • The Other Side by Jason Derulo
  • Why Don’t You Love Me? by Hot Chelle Rae ft. Demi Lovato
  • We Owned The Night by Lady Antebellum
  • Stars Go Blue by Tim McGraw
  • Open Your Eyes by Snow Patrol
  • Come Back by Pearl Jam
  • By Your Side by Tenth Avenue North
  • Everything Has Changed by Taylor Swift ft.Ed Sheeran

 

ABOUT THE BOOK

Nowhere to hide

Fashion designer Abigail Harris has been rescued, but her nightmare is far from over. Determined to put her harrowing ordeal behind her and move on, she struggles to pick up the pieces of her life while eluding the men who want her dead.

The Mid-Atlantic Sex Ring is in ruins after Abby’s interviews with the police.  The organization is eager to exact their revenge before her testimony dismantles the multi-million dollar operation for good.

Abby’s safety rests in the hands of former US Marshal, Jerrod Quinn.  Serious-minded and obsessed with protocol, Ethan Cooke Security’s newest agent finds himself dealing with more than he bargains for when he agrees to take on his beautiful, free-spirited client.

As the trial date nears, Abby’s case takes a dangerous turn.  Abby and Jerrod soon discover themselves in a situation neither of them expect while Jerrod fights to stop the ring from silencing Abby once and for all.

Read an excerpt

The black bag was ripped from her head, along with several strands of her hair. Abby blinked against the bold light of the naked bulbs hanging from the low ceiling. She glanced around the dingy space in shock as her gaze traveled from girl to girl—six young teens, dirty, bruised, and malnourished, staring up at her through bland eyes while they sat or lay on filthy mattresses on the dirt floor. “What—”

“In.” Victor shoved Abby into a small, windowless room, slamming the door, locking her in with a rusty scrape of something sliding against the heavy metal barrier.

She walked on shaky legs to the wooden chair in the corner and collapsed to the uncomfortable seat, clutching her arms around her waist, shivering as she bit hard on her bottom lip while tears rained down her cheeks. Where was she? What was this place? She shuddered, remembering six sets of listless eyes holding hers. Nothing good was happening here.

She covered her face with trembling hands and gave into her sobs, relieving the worst of her dread, wishing for nothing more than to be home with Lex and Livy. Thinking of her sister and niece, she forced away her tears, taking several deep breaths of stale air. If she wanted to see her family again she needed to pull herself together. She couldn’t get herself out of this—whatever this was—if she didn’t think. There had to be a way out. Her eyes darted around the barely lit space, searching for a weapon, another exit, anything.

The door opened, and she rushed to her feet as a tall, well-built man stood haloed in the beam of light from the room beyond. Abby blinked as he stepped forward. “Renzo?” She bolted from the corner and fell against her friend’s firm chest as a wave or relief flooded her. “Oh, thank god.”

His strong arms wrapped around her.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t know what’s going on. I need help. Can you help me?”

“What happened?” He eased her back some, but she refused to release him from her grip.

“My family—we were on our way home from Virginia Beach. We stopped at a rest area, and two men grabbed me and brought me here.”

“You were with your sister and niece?”

“Yes, Alexa and Olivia. I think they’re okay, but I need to call and make sure. Will you get me out of here?”

“Of course.”

She could hardly believe she was leaving. “Thank you. Thank you.” She hugged Renzo again as tears of gratitude flowed free. “I knew this had to be some sort of mistake.”

“Come on, let’s get you home.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and walked with her to the door. “Oh, wait.” He stopped.

“What?”

“I can’t let you go.”

 
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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.

 

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…….of Tanker 10 by Jonathan Curelop

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Worldwind VBT Presents: THE WHITECHAPEL VIRGIN by Carla Acheson

 

“Acheson has a gift for being able to bring the grit of poverty to life ” – (Rachel Malone) HISTORICAL NOVEL SOCIETY

 

“TAKE A DEEP BREATH AND JOURNEY INTO THE SLUMS OF WHITECHAPEL, LONDON, DURING JACK THE RIPPER’S BRUTAL REIGN OF TERROR.”

 

 

About The Book:



Catherine, a fifteen year old runaway, stumbles into a seedy brothel-house tavern in the back streets of Whitechapel, London. She hesitates at the scene before her, one filled with low class prostitutes and drunkards, but it is late, and the dimly-lit labyrinthine alleyways are filled with deviant fellows and petty criminals.

Weary and hungry, she meets Eddie, the rugged young tavern boy who shows her to a room for the night. She settles down only to be awoken in the early hours by piercing cries from the room next door. Arising to find the cause of the commotion, she becomes witness to a gruesome abortion.

Filled with revulsion, Catherine decides to flee as soon as daylight arrives, but Eddie quickly soothes her fears and convinces her to stay, arranging for her to meet Madame Davenport, the nefarious brothel-mistress who employs Catherine as a serving girl, under the proviso she begins work ‛servicing’ men once she is settled in.

Difficulties arise, however, when Eddie’s growing romantic affections for Catherine clash with her sudden infatuation for the dashing middle-class gent, Mr Cross. Unknown to Catherine, the lothario is keeping a diary of his affairs with Whitechapel’s whores, with the dishonourable intention of turning his writing into a successful ‛gentleman’s, publication.’ Mr Cross quickly seduces the fresh young virgin, allowing his sexual fantasies to escalate into an unfathomable obsession.

As Catherine tries her hardest to fit into the ways of life at the lodging house, she encounters only jealousy from Eddie, and resentment from the other prostitutes who reside there. Annie, in particular, dislikes the new girl who has blossoming beauty and youth on her side.

Unexpectedly one night, a crime occurs within the narrow landing of George Yard Buildings. Local prostitute Martha Tabram is found brutally hacked to death by a cruel assailant. The police can unearth no explainable motive. The Victorian crime stuns the entire Whitechapel district, causing widespread panic amongst the prostitutes who each fear for their own lives.

Catherine’s anxiety increases when Edward Cross begins to show signs of ‘odd’ sexual behaviour and mental decline, as he brutally tries to expunge the girl of her virtues.

When two more gruesome murders occur in the area, the prostitutes realise that there is no escape from the vicious killer who calls himself Jack The Ripper.

But who is he? And who will be the next Jack victim?


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About The Author

Carla lives in Gibraltar with her family and is a member of the Freelance Writers Association. She works as a book

reviewer and has interviewed and published book reviews and articles for best-selling and award-winning authors. Her articles and reviews have been featured in various press publications, as well as Waterstones Quarterly UK Magazine.

Her debut fiction novel ‘The Last Gift’ released October 2012, is available on both Kindle and paperback.
Carla is also the founder of the Rock Writers Group formed in Gibraltar in 2009.

Music production, singing, reading and writing have always been the main essential ingredients in Carla’s life.

Visit her website: http://www.carla-acheson.com/

Visit her on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thewhitechapelvirgin

 

This tour was hosted by Worldwind Virtual Book Tours

Follow the rest of The Whitechapel Virgin tour

Worldwind VBT Presents: THE POWER by Jeff Hennelly book blast & giveaway

The Power Book Boost & Giveaway!

a heart-quickening novel that will thrill Michael Crichton fans and that T.C. Boyle readers will find wickedly smart


 

About The Power

What if you had the power to heal others but it only brought you personal destruction and ruin? Would you still use it?

When a street shaman meets a horrific demise on Dr. Austin MacLean’s ER table, Austin soon discovers a raw and irrepressible power. But when this power inflicts traumatic effects on three chronically ill children, families rush to accuse him, his colleagues condemn him, and the police begin to investigate in this affluent New Jersey beach town….and so do others when the children begin to show inconceivable progress.

Dara Kleows, a local reporter, is the first to connect the children’s gradual healings back to Austin. The two develop a deep bond but Austin remains uncertain as to what this beautiful woman wants. Is she just after a story, or more? There are those who covet Austin’s “power” and at any cost, while Dara grows concerned by Austin’s headlong march toward his own perdition.

What if you had the power to heal but people condemned you and supected its use? Would you still use it? Read The Power. You just might need it someday when you meet the One, or if that One becomes you.

Purchase The Book
*Only $2.99 on Kindle!*
About The Author

Jeff Hennelly now lives outside of Philadelphia, PA. He’s been in the medical device business for over 20 years and has worked with hospitals, clinics, and alternate care facilities from Palo Alto to Prague. His articles and short stories have appeared in numerous trade magazines and journals. His latest novel, THE POWER has generated motion picture interest. His fascination remains for the human condition, behavior surrounding procreation, and in art that portrays a metaphor for life. Look for his new novel, THE 95 PERCENT in December of 2013.

ENTER THE GIVEAWAY!
The author is giving away this fabulous prize!
$50
Amazon Gift Card or Paypal Cash!

 

Review: SAFE KEEPING by Barbara Taylor Sissel

Safe Keeping by Barbara Taylor Sissel
Published by Harlequin MIRA
Publication Date:  March 25, 2014
ISBN-10: 0778316165
ISBN-12: 978-0778316169
Number of Pages: 320
Review Copy from: Author/Harlequin
Edition: TPB
My Rating: 5

Synopsis (via GR):

My son is a murderer…. So begins this chilling and emotionally charged mystery from highly acclaimed author Barbara Taylor Sissel.

Emily Lebay had always thought of her family as ordinary. Sure, they’ve endured their share of problems, even a time of great trouble; what family hasn’t? But when a woman’s body turns up in the dense woods near their home, and Emily’s grown son Tucker is accused of murder, Emily is forced to confront the unfathomable, and everything she believed about her life is called into question.

This isn’t the first time Tucker has been targeted by the police; a year ago he was a person of interest when another woman was found dead in the same stretch of woods. Still, neither Emily nor her daughter, Lissa, can reconcile their Tucker with these brutal crimes. Terrified, convinced there’s been a tragic mistake, Emily and Lissa set out to learn the truth about Tucker, once and for all. And while his life hangs in the balance, what they discover proves far more shocking than their darkest fears.

“Past secrets contribute to present-day angst in this solid suspense novel, and the even pacing keeps the reader’s interest until the captivating conclusion.” Publisher’s Weekly

…impressive writing and affecting subject matter.” Kirkus Reviews(less)

 
My Thoughts and Opinion:

WOW!!!  I need to emphasize that WOW!
Barbara Taylor Sissel went on my “authors to read list” after reading her novel THE NINTH STEP.  And she stayed that after I finished reading THE VOLUNTEER and EVIDENCE OF LIFE.  Now with this latest book, SAFE KEEPING, she has a permanent spot on that list.

The LeBay family is once again dealing with a heart wrenching and “could it be” family crisis, son and brother, Tucker, is being accused of murder.  Not Tucker!  Yes he has had some difficulty in life, but murder?  Yes, the family has some secrets, but murder?   There are more likely suspects other than Tucker.  With unconditional love, the family will prove his innocence.  Or can they?

I know when I start to read a Barbara Taylor Sissel book, the writing is going to be impeccable, the characters life like and relatable, the suspense incredible.  And she didn’t disappoint with this novel.  She has an amazing talent of weaving a tale full of chapter cliff hangers, possible suspects, roller coaster action that is difficult to put down and comes to a climax with a “never saw coming” ending.  Heart pounding!!  An intense read!

I highly recommend!!!

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