GIVEAWAY ENTRY “DOUBLE DANGER” by Dee Davis ENDED

CMash December 17, 2012 28 Comments

DECEMBER 17th to DECEMBER 31st, 2012

DOUBLE DANGER
by DEE DAVIS

SYNOPSIS:

Ignoring his instincts once cost Simon a vital op-and the life of his best friend, Ryan. Now as escalating, violent attacks hit A-Tac, another person he loves is in danger. Homeland Security agent Jillian Montgomery’s investigation has suddenly brought her back into Simon’s life, and unless they can learn to trust each other, their dangerous mission will fail.After her husband Ryan’s death, Jillian dedicates herself to saving others. She can’t afford to be tempted by Simon, even though his every touch reignites the desire they once shared. But in the last desperate minutes before disaster strikes, their second chance at love might be the most lethal trap of all . . .

THANKS TO JESSICA, AND THE VERY

MERRY ELVES AT GCP/FOREVER

I HAVE ONE ( 1 ) COPY OF THIS
BOOK TO GIVE AWAY.
HERE IS WHAT YOU NEED TO DO TO WIN.

*USE THE RAFFLECOPTER FORM BELOW
IN ORDER TO BE INCLUDED IN THE GIVEAWAY*
BE SURE TO INCLUDE YOUR EMAIL

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SO THAT I CAN CONTACT YOU IF YOU WIN
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**PER PUBLISHER**
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PLEASE NOTIFY ME IF YOU HAVE
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AND READ THIS BOOK.
THANK YOU.

*GIVEAWAY ENDS DECEMBER 31st AT 6PM EST*

WINNER WILL BE CHOSEN BY RAFFLECOPTER AND NOTIFIED
VIA EMAIL AND WILL HAVE 48 HOURS TO RESPOND
OR ANOTHER NAME WILL BE CHOSEN

DISCLAIMER / RULES

Giveaway copies are supplied and shipped to winners via publisher,
the giveaway on behalf of the
above. 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.

I am not responsible for lost or damaged books that are shipped
from agents. I reserve the right to disqualify/delete any entries
if rules of giveaway are not followed

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Mailbox Monday, Meme, Monday Memes, Musing Mondays

Monday Memes

CMash December 17, 2012 2 Comments

Hosted by Miz B at Should Be Reading

This week’s question:
This week’s musing – courtesy of http://www.kwizgiver.com – asks…
Is there a particular book that is your nemesis–the book you’re determined to one day finish?

My response:
Hmmm…good question.

However, as I look around my office/reading room and see the 3 over loaded bookcases and 2 EReaders, I can’t say there is one particular book. What I can say, is that I hope one day in the near future, I would and could be able to read at least ~~1/2~~, ~~1/3~~, 1/4 of the books that are stuffed into these bookcases and transferred into the “read” bookcase. And as I look around, and see books shoved into these bookcases, I realize that I have a problem, a very BIG problem. I am definitely addicted to books and need to restrain myself from bringing any more into my house, but I so love being surrounded by them.

What about you? Is there a specific book that you want to finish? Or are you like me and just want to dwindle down your stacks?

December is being hosted by Suko’s Notebook

Mailbox Monday was created by Marcia of A girl and her books and is now on tour.
According to Marcia, “Mailbox Monday is the gathering place for readers to share the books that came into their house last week. Warning: Mailbox Monday can lead to envy, toppling TBR piles and humongous wish lists.”
Click on book for synopsis via IndieBound (I am an Indiebournd Affliate)

Shop Indie Bookstores
Tuesday: Friendfluence by Carlin Flora~ARC from Doubleday for PBP

Events, Misc

Memorial

CMash December 16, 2012 1 Comment

I am heart broken as I’m sure millions across the world are. And feeling at a loss of what to do, other than pray for those who tragically lost their lives, their families, the survivors and their families, I wanted to pay tribute to them and those that live in CT.

Ever since this horrific tragedy took place on Friday, one of the images that I keep vividly remembering is when my boys were that age, kissing them goodbye as they walked into their school. How many of those families did the same but never thinking it would be the last time. I am Blessed because I can still kiss my, now adult, sons.

My oldest son, who lives in CT, called me as soon as he got home from work on Friday, and is devastated. Asking me questions I could not answer.

I know we are not to ask why, just know it is to be God’s will. We may never know why and how this could happen to innocents, 20 babies, 6 adults doing their job and a mother of a very troubled young man. Twenty little angels possibly drawing pictures of Christmas or making Christmas cards, with excitement that Santa would be arriving in a couple of weeks, and instead, an evil “bad man” arrived.

I can’t even begin to imagine what these families and the residents of Newtown CT are going through. I have a very heavy heart and have shed tears since this unimaginable event took place. Am at a loss at wanting to do something but not knowing what to do, except praying for all those that have been affected and remembering those that were taken much too soon.

Please pause, read the names above, remember and please pray for them and their families. Dear God, please take these families in your loving arms, give them strength, protect and heal them and let them know that their loved ones will not be forgotten. Amen.

Giveaway, The Book Trib/Media Muscle

And the winner is…..

CMash December 15, 2012 Leave a Comment

………of The Spanish Revenge by Allan Topol

11 Maureen Carol Tweet about the Giveaway

An email has been sent to the winner and she has 48 hours to respond or another winner will be chosen. Thank you to all that entered.

Guest Author, Partners In Crime Tours

Guest Author CJ West

CMash December 15, 2012 Leave a Comment

Today I have the distinct honor to introduce you to a very busy, talented and author of 7 novels, as he kicks off his virtual tour with Partners In Crime Tours. Please help me give a warm welcome to Mr. CJ West!!!!

CJ WEST

C.J. West is the author of seven suspense novels including The End of Marking Time and Sin and Vengeance, which was optioned into development for film by Beantown Productions, LLC (screenplay by Marla Cukor).
Connect with CJ at his website, blog and Facebook.

GUEST POST

Does This Label Make Me Look Sexy?

My research for Dinner At Deadman’s took me to some places that might make you feel queasy and to some estate sales where people love to browse, but some can’t bring themselves to buy because they feel icky buying something from a dead person. My hero, Lorado Martin, has made a hobby out of spotting the treasure in heaps of old junk and he’s pretty darned good at it in real life, too.

A great example is the brown jacket in my Facebook profile pic. It’s my favorite jacket and I wear it often to conferences and signings. It feels lucky after I’ve worn it so much. You’ll have to judge if it’s sexy or not. My brother Lorado (yes my protagonist is created based on my brother), bought that same jacket from a charity called GiftsToGive. Same color. Same label. Much bigger size! But the price was the big difference. I paid $70. He paid $3.

That started me thinking about how much we pay to feel sexy. The only difference between my jacket and his is the store where it was purchased.

My sneakers are another example. I paid about $30. Kids spend a hundred for the cool brand of sneakers so they can fit in on the playground. Luckily at my age I know I’m cool. I don’t need the right pair of sneakers to tell me so. That doesn’t stop the kids (and even some grown women) from scoffing at the label on mine.

Now I’m going to tell you a secret that could crash the American economy. So keep this to yourself… My brother sells ladies handbags for twenty-five cents. They open at the top. They zipper. And they have a strap to make it easy to carry things around. Still, my daughters both have bags that cost $300 and scream status. (Thanks to their mother. I’d never spend that much money on something so frivolous.)

So why do we spend so much money on things when we don’t need to? According to The Economist, it’s all about sex.

I wonder if we’ll ever evolve to a world where labels don’t make us special. Where frugality reigns and men select women who buy a $10 bag instead of wasting $300. Wouldn’t that be a lifelong recipe for happiness? Men continually complain about how much money their wives spend. Why not pick one who is frugal from the beginning?

Ladies, would you be caught dead with a twenty-five cent handbag? Or would it make you feel smarter than the average mom?

ABOUT THE BOOK

Lorado Martin has loved junk since his grandparents took him bottle digging in the backwoods of New England when he was a boy. The search for antiques and collectibles led him to a unique hobby: digging through the estates of the newly deceased, arranging the sale of goods for the heirs, and keeping the leftovers for himself.

To make a living he builds and maintains housing for recovering addicts and along the way he’s employed a number of his clients. The men wrestle with the siren call of drugs and teach Lorado about the difficult struggle to stay clean one day at a time.

When these two worlds come together, Lorado learns that not every elderly person dies of natural causes and that some estates are sold to benefit a killer. His latest project hits close to home. A woman he’s known since childhood haunts him from a fresh grave. Her grandson, an affable addict who has fallen off the wagon, stands to inherit a considerable sum whether he deserves it or not.

Read an excerpt:

Chapter One
February 17th. Nineteen degrees on a Friday night and I was tucked in a dead lady’s bed trying to convince myself the pressure in my gut wasn’t worth risking the cold oak and then the bathroom tiles. Sound miserable? Not for me. I wasn’t thinking about the punk heir or how silly I looked in a pink comforter covered with big red roses. I was a pig, belly deep in mud. No part of me wanted to move because I’d been treasure hunting all day. Everything was sore, especially my right elbow, but I wouldn’t change a thing.
You’re probably laughing. Picturing a fat guy in a pink blanket who fancied himself a pirate. I was no swashbuckler. Unwanted treasure was my specialty. New England might not have had gold or oil, but it was packed with loot.My ancestors were either cowards or laggards. They landed on the Mayflower and walked inland far enough to get away from the Atlantic storm surge, but not so far they couldn’t run back to the boat if the Indians attacked. I couldn’t run back. I could walk if I lost a few pounds. Okay, probably not.
Every winter New Englanders dreamed of moving to Florida or South Carolina. Adventurous souls picked some island the rest of us had never heard of like Turks and Caicos. Not me. The South Coast was exactly where I belonged. New Bedford was the whaling capital of the world. Every old geezer who croaked had some scrimshaw or an oil lamp or something that had been around a few hundred years.In the old days people had a bottle dump at the back corner of the foundation. Old timers scoured the woods and picked through old homesteads that had rotted into the ground. My grandparents took me along sometimes. They built tiers of wooden shelves in their cellar, a spooky mildew-coated place that had one of the last stone foundations built in the area. They collected thousands of bottles from two-toned brown jugs to tiny blue medicine bottles. One day I found a Fairbanks & Beard soda bottle and my grandfather gave me ten bucks for it. Ten bucks for something I dug out of the ground! I was hooked.I didn’t wait for houses to fall down and their foundations to fill with leaves like my grandparents did. Yuppie kids called me even before their last parent was buried. They saw a house worth two hundred thousand, some cash, and investments. They browsed the jewelry and they were done. The rest of the stuff was just in the way. A bunch of junk that kept them from the big score. They wanted everything gone so buyers could start looking at the house.That was my domain. All the stuff they didn’t want. Some of it was worth a whole lot more than that old F & B bottle with the green glass and jagged top. My last thirty years were dedicated to learning the difference.
At forty miles per hour I could spot a barrel of Lincoln Logs in somebody’s trash and slam the brakes in time to swing around and pick them out before the garbage truck got there. Put me in an old lady’s house and I was in heaven.Everyone had some useless crap that never should have been made in the first place. Once that was gone, every single thing left was useful to somebody. The trick was matching them up. Every fork, can opener, end table, and cheesy 1970’s lamp was dying to make someone happy.In about a week I could have a house open for sale. Posted on Craigslist. In the Standard Times classifieds. A cardboard sign on every main road.

The people would fill the place shoulder to shoulder. Browsing. Smiling and sharing reminders of their childhood. Kids would pick up useless junk and laugh. An hour later an old lady would buy the very same piece. Young and old alike were struck with a combination of nostalgia and bargain fever, but every person who walked through the door had one problem. They were all trying to forget someone died in that house not long ago.
Death never bothered me much.

There’s nothing wrong with dead stuff. Road kill could make a great hat if the bumper didn’t poke a hole in the pelt. It was awful hard to mess up a raccoon’s tail with a car and those rings looked pisser dangling down the back of your neck. When you were seventeen anyway. Or maybe twenty. The raccoon didn’t care. He was gone.
People were different. They knew death was coming and didn’t want to entertain the thought any longer than necessary. Sometimes they got angry when they died. Sometimes I could feel it. That night working in Mrs. Newbury’s house I swore the old lady was watching me. And she wasn’t happy about me rummaging through her stuff.

It wasn’t like she didn’t know I was coming. My parents had known her a long time. They went to school together back when Rochester kids went to New Bedford High. Decades ago.

A year ago she’d hired me to replace her kitchen cabinets. And she walked me through the house when I was done. Showed me her treasures. Pieces of scrimshaw squirreled away in the attic. Plates I had to Google to find out what they were worth. Mrs. Newbury had some great stuff. She knew her grandson, Newb, wouldn’t appreciate any of it. Her telling me was a sign she wanted me to make sure the valuable pieces weren’t thrown away.
Sometime between showing me her house and dying, she’d gotten angry and decided to take it out on my stomach. Maybe I was sleeping on Mr. Newbury’s side of the bed, but that shouldn’t have mattered. They were together in Heaven. Or at least they should have been.

Maybe she’d changed her mind about me selling her stuff to strangers. The closet cramped with fifty years of floral dresses and skirts. Two bureaus overflowing with scarves and socks and underwear. Boxes, purses, and shoe trees pressed into every available space. The clutter slumped against the walls parted just enough to reveal the oak flooring along the weaving path Mrs. Newbury followed to the bathroom. The night light’s glow gleamed off those precious few boards and my gaze fell there as I struggled to sleep in spite of being haunted.

Old people got out of bed to pee a lot. Well, they couldn’t pee a lot, that’s why they got up so often. Anyway, the thing they feared most was a fall at night when no one could hear them and come to help. If you’d seen my big blue coffee cup you’d know I needed to get up a time or two myself. And at three hundred twenty pounds, when I fell there was damage. So I left the night light on even though I wasn’t keen on anyone seeing me wrapped in the old lady’s pink comforter. I’d have been under the pink sheets and rose-patterned blankets, too, if I wasn’t so worried about bedbugs. The look wouldn’t have changed. Only the temperature.

It’d be just like Roxie to swing by for a little action and snap a picture from the doorway. She was a whiz with the Internet. She’d email it to all our friends before I could get dressed and chase her home.
Giving her a key to job sites was a risk, but who knows what’d happen in those old neighborhoods. Junkies read the obits. They’d hack out every length of copper from the cellar if they thought no one was home. If they caught me sleeping and roughed me up, maybe she’d call the cops and save my ass. More likely she’d come by to give me a piece of hers. Sadly, three days after Valentine’s my stomach hurt so much I hoped she wouldn’t come.

My gut rumbled and I pulled the comforter tighter. Damned unromantic.
Wind whistled against the toothless exterior and found its way in through gaps around the windows. I’d pitched the kid a siding and window replacement job, but the only thing the vulture wanted was his grandmother’s place gone in a rush. Forsythia slapped the shingles and tickled the glass. The bushes could have been cut back enough in a day so you could see the street from the windows. The briars and scrub out back mowed with a brush cutter in three hours. Two hundred bucks to triple the yard and jack up the sale price at least three times that. No deal. No cash was going into grandma’s house. He wanted me to wring out every penny. Every cent he could get without lifting a finger or spending a dime.

Thankless cheapskate I worked for. Even worse when he worked for me.
A knot in my gut twisted so tight I forgot my annoyance with the kid.

The cramps forced me to wrestle out of the comforter and lumber down the path, hunched over in the dark, cradling my gut in my arms. On my second step, something jabbed the meat of my right foot. It pressed in so deeply, I hopped and crashed my right shoulder into the doorframe.
I swiped at the sole of my foot, feeling for blood, expecting a staple or a tack. A bit of broken plastic was all I found. It bounced into a corner for me to step on again later. The jostling hurt so much I thought my stomach was going to erupt horizontally. I wished I’d just kept walking and let the plastic burrow its way in. It would have been a lot less painful.

Four hobbled steps carried me through the hall into a bathroom that had been designed for tiny old people. Her toilet was wedged in a corner between the closet and the window. I leaned against the wall. Ignored the ceramic toilet paper dispenser digging into my knee. The cold air rushing through the window. Balanced there in the dark, the pain radiated lower.

Giving birth had to feel like this. It hurt too much to push. It hurt too much not to push.

The contents of my bowels willed themselves free with a liquid rush that went on far longer than should have been humanly possible. Stuff I’d eaten days ago freed itself from my body in a torrent that released so much pressure it felt as good as any orgasm.

Then my entire body seized in a cramp that folded me in half.

Women complain about cramps like it’s the end of the world. If this was what having a period was like, I’d take back every menstrual joke I ever told.

Forty minutes later I was still sitting there with the seat jammed so firmly into my backside the impression wouldn’t fade for a week. I’ll spare you the details, but stuff kept squirting out of me until I swore my intestines were inside out, hanging down there in the bowl getting a rinse.

I hate doctors almost as much as I hate health plans and the government sponsored socialist crap that forced me to pay for something I didn’t want so some lowlife could get free healthcare. My right elbow had hurt for two years before that night and I hadn’t seen a doctor yet. I’d rather wake up wincing in pain than pay some rich boy two hundred bucks to talk with me for seven minutes.
That night it hurt so badly I might have called an ambulance if I could have gotten my pants back on. Might have driven myself in if I could have taken a step away from the porcelain throne, but I was tethered by unrelenting cramps and the fear of my insides splashing all over everything if I stood up.
I clutched my gut and leaned forward, praying that somehow the pain would pass and I’d make it back to bed. Sleep would set me right. Little did I know sleep was coming in a rush. A nasty cramp hunched me right over forward and my foot slipped.

The bolt of pain in my groin erased any memory of the cramps. Blinding, mind-erasing pain that only men experience. My arms shot down to catch myself on the seat and free my crushed testicle.

The toilet seat broke free under my weight and I leapfrogged forward. The sharp edge of the vanity creased my forehead. That was the last pain I felt that night. My vision faded like an old tube TV, closing in from the outside to a point of light. As I lost consciousness I had the distinct feeling the old woman was cackling with delight.

Purchase Links:

AMAZON link
Barnes & Noble link

GoodReads link

Follow CJ’s tour here where you can enter to win a copy of Dinner At Deadman’s.

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.

Giveaway, Guest Author, Showcase

Guest Author Stacy Green and Giveaway

CMash December 14, 2012 7 Comments

So many amazing authors and books, so little time. I’m sure a lot of you will agree with me. When I was contacted by today’s guest, and she explained to me about her charity, I wanted the chance to introduce her to you. Please help me welcome Ms. Stacy Green to our group!

STACY GREEN

Stacy Green is fascinated by the workings of the criminal mind and explores true crime on her popular Thriller Thursday posts at her blog, Turning the Page.

After earning her degree in journalism, Stacy worked in advertising before becoming a stay-at-home mom to her miracle child. She rediscovered her love of writing and wrote several articles for Women’s Edition Magazine of Cedar Rapids, profiling local businesses, before penning her first novel. Her debut novel, Into The Dark, is set in Las Vegas and features a heroine on the edge of disaster, a tormented villain, and the city’s infamous storm drains that house hundreds of homeless. Available November 30^th, Into the Dark may be purchased for Kindle, Nook, Ipad, Kobo and all other digital formats, and on paperback via Amazon.
Connect with Stacy at her website, Facebook, Twitter and Email:
Stacygreenauthor@gmail.com

GUEST POST

I’m very happy to be visiting Cheryl’s blog today. One of the themes in my debut novel, Into The Dark, is about moving on from the past. Both main characters–Emilie and Nathan–struggle with bad decisions made years before, and throughout the book, have to learn from the past in order to ultimately save Emilie’s life.

I didn’t set out with that theme. I just created two characters with littered pasts because I love tortured characters. It wasn’t until halfway through writing Into The Dark that I realized I was drawing on my own personal issues.

My past is nothing like Emilie or Nathan’s, and yet, there are a few major decisions I wish I could take back. Decisions I’ve regretted for years and allowed to affect my outlook on life. In the grand scheme of things, they aren’t huge issues. I chose to major in journalism and put my fiction writing aside, and because I didn’t love what I was doing, I didn’t focus on my career like I should have. That meant not getting the big-time job I was supposed to. Instead, I got married–a decision I don’t regret–the day after I graduated college and took a paltry job at a little paper. I quickly realized I hated reporting, but I’d backed myself into a corner. Years (and huge loans) of college education wasted–or so I thought.

I eventually ended up in advertising until I had my daughter in 2005 and decided to stay home with her–another decision I don’t regret. But I still carried the guilt for my past decisions and felt as though I’d failed everyone who expected me to “be somebody.”

It wasn’t until September 30^th, 2009 that I got my head out of my rear. I’d just dropped my daughter off at daycare for a few hours and was on my way home on a road I travel every day. A road just a few blocks from our house. I was texting and driving. I turned right onto the road, and just ahead was a bridge. I looked down at my phone, and when I looked back up, my Intrepid was about to hit the curved concrete sidewall of the bridge. I braced for impact and remember thinking, “we cannot afford this.” But instead of hitting the bridge and stopping, the car ramped up the curved side, flipped over, skidded across the road on its hood, and ended up facing the opposite direction.
Suddenly the car stops, and I’m hanging upside down, saved by my seatbelt. That’s when the panic hit. All I could think of was “get out, get out, you’re going to get hit.” Both front doors were crushed from the impact, so I had to crawl through the back and out the passenger door.

It wasn’t until I got out of the car and to the side of the road that I realized I’d never let go of my phone. Mercifully, I walked away with only bruises, but the car was totaled. Another round of guilt set in, because my stupidity had earned us a car payment to deal with.

But then I realized I could have died. And I’d wasted so much time feeling sorry for myself, feeling guilty, and not doing the one thing I’ve always been passionate about–writing. And life is simply too short to waste our time being miserable.

So I got serious about writing and my dreams of being published. The idea for Into The Dark had been in my head for a while, and I started the journey of writing it. And because writing what we know is natural, letting go of the past quickly became the theme of my book. It’s taken a long time, but I’ve learned not to live with regrets and to keep looking to the future. We are the only ones who can change our lives, and there’s no reason to wait until tomorrow to get started.

To celebrate the release of INTO THE DARK, I’m giving you THREE ways to win a $25 Amazon Gift Card! Any one of these options will get your name into the drawing, which runs from November 1^st until the end of my blog tour on January 30^th. (see details below)

ABOUT THE BOOK

A two-hundred-mile labyrinth of dark storm drains serves as a refuge for the delusional stalker who will go to any lengths to possess fragile, emotionally isolated Emilie Davis. To survive, Emilie will have to confront the secrets of her past she has kept locked away from everyone, including herself.
Emilie is a master escape artist—she’s fled a manipulative mother and a controlling ex-husband. But it’s impossible to evade a stalker who uses a bank robbery as a ruse to kidnap her. He’s still out there, hiding in the Las Vegas tunnels and dodging police. Emilie’s life careens out of control as her assailant continues his pursuit. She has nowhere to turn but to Nathan Madigan, the hostage negotiator who worked the robbery.
Nathan is haunted by his failure to protect a loved one fourteen years ago and dedicates his life to saving others. Determined to catch the lunatic hunting Emilie, he finds himself losing his professional detachment. He fears history is about to repeat itself if he cannot protect Emilie from the Taker’s obsession.

The police close in on the Taker’s identity as Nathan and Emilie grow closer to each other and to resolving the misery of their own pasts. At the height of The Taker’s madness, his attempt to replace someone he’s lost will either kill them all or set them free.
Purchase links: Amazon (PB) Amazon (EBook) B&N Muse

Read an excerpt:

Nathan peered through the chain link fence. “Is that it?”
“I didn’t even know this culvert was here.” Chris started to climb. “I drive over it every day, too.”
“That’s why they call them box culverts,” Johnson said from the other side of the fence. “You don’t see them unless you’re walking inside.”
“Why couldn’t we just cut this thing down?” Nathan huffed as he made the short trip up and over the wobbly chain link barrier. They were several blocks north of the raucous Freemont Street Experience and looking into the mouth of one of the storm drain entrances.
“Because no one in Metro wants to deal with the city officials over it,” Johnson said.
“Talk about spook central.” Nathan shined his light toward the culvert. Bathed in shadows, it stood silent and empty. A chill of foreboding washed over him.
“Watch yourselves.” Johnson led the way as the three men entered the culvert, weapons ready. “Anything could be lurking.”
Standing water covered the toes of Nathan’s boots. The air was thick with mildew. “Drain’s over there.” He shined his tactical light on the flood map. “To the right.”
The temperature dropped as they entered the large drain. Darkness engulfed them.
Chris’s whistle cut through the eerie stillness. “Wow. It’s a hell of a lot cooler in here. Place smells like feet, but I’ll take what I can get.”
Nathan shined his light on the walls. Colorful graffiti decorated the concrete. “Someone’s a talented artist.”
The darkness thickened with each step. The odor grew increasingly foul.
“Jesus, I can taste the stench in my mouth.” Chris gagged and spit into the dirty water.
Nathan didn’t respond. He was too busy trying to keep the contents of his stomach down and wondering how the people who lived in the tunnels stood the smell and the constant dangers. The drains provided relief from the sweltering desert heat, and free housing, but they were death traps. Large portions ran directly underneath the city streets and inhabitants risked carbon monoxide poisoning and the frequent threat of flooding. Growing up poor in North Las Vegas gave him a better perspective than many, but he couldn’t imagine having no other alternative than to live minute-by-minute.
“We shouldn’t run into any camps,” Johnson said. “They’re deeper in. One of the biggest is right under the Strip.”
“You know we aren’t going to find shit,” Chris choked out. “It’s too dark. Guy planned this for months. He knows his way around. We need to get out of here and check on Adam.”
“Medic called me when they got him to the hospital,” Johnson said. “He’s going into surgery. All we’d be doing right now is sitting around waiting. Still have to do our jobs, Holt.”
“He’s just a rookie. I should have been in front of him.”
“Stop,” Nathan said. “You followed protocol. That was a lucky shot.”
“Doesn’t make it right.”
Silence fell over the men as they moved farther into the stinking drain. Something hard crunched underneath Nathan’s boots. He nervously shined his light into the black water. Crawfish swam around his feet, probably on their way to the Las Vegas Wash. A mushy white glob looking suspiciously like used toilet paper floated by, and he focused his light away from the stream. Better not to know what he was stepping on.
A loud splash ahead brought all three to a halt.
“You hear that?” Johnson asked.
“Sounds big.” Chris stepped in front of Johnson and raised his Glock.
“Las Vegas SWAT,” Johnson shouted. “Identify yourself.”
Nothing.
“Maybe it was an animal,” Nathan said.
“That’s even worse than a junkie,” Chris said. “With my luck, Cujo’s
man-eating cousin will show up and give me rabies.”
“They have shots for that now.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
A second loud splash was followed by the distinct sound of footsteps plodding through the water.
“That’s no dog.” Chris sprinted after the runner with Nathan and Johnson closely following. The beams of their lights flashed haphazardly against the walls making the tunnel even more ominous.
A strange brightness glowed several yards ahead of them. Their quarry came into view. He was too short and stocky to be their man, but he could have information.

Stacy is hosting an incredible Charity giveaway. Here are the directions:

1) Go to the Darkly Fabulous Contest page on my blog and leave a note about which blog you heard of me at. Make sure you are logged in or have left your email address.

2) Donate to HELP of Southern Nevada. The INTO THE DARK Charity Blog Tour is the most important part of my promotion, because I’m trying to raise money for the homeless. You can go to HELP of Southern Nevada, the organization that aids the homeless featured in INTO THE DARK, and donate. Email me the receipt – all you’ve got to do is copy and paste proof of the order into the email. No personal information needed.

3) Email me your receipt of purchase of INTO THE DARK (personal info excluded) OR answer this question: in what state was the Taker born and raised? Email me your answer @ Stacygreenauthor@gmail.com

The homeless living in the storm drains of Las Vegas played a vital part in INTO THE DARK, and I want to give back. From November 1^st until February 28^th, participants will have several options to enter the raffle, including donating to HELP of Southern Nevada. The grand prize will be a $100 donation from me in the winner’s name to the homeless shelter of their choice.

Enter here for the INTO THE DARK Charity Raffle!

Giveaway, Winners

And the winner is…….

CMash December 13, 2012 Leave a Comment

…of Falling off the Wind by Richard Meibers

3 Anita Yancey Be a Public Follower of ‘CMASH Loves to Read’

An email has been sent to the winner and she has 48 hours to respond with her mailing address or another winner will be chosen. Thank you to those that entered.

2013 Challenges, Challenge

2013 Challenges

CMash December 13, 2012 1 Comment

shhhh…this is a very quiet post….especially since I said I was going to cut back this year, BUT, I just can’t resist. I am signing up for just a ~~couple~~ few more. I would try to sneek them in but I have to follow the rules and they say I have to post…so here goes.

Since it is obvious, the problem that I have, it only makes sense that I sign up for this one:

Hosted by Bev at My Reader’s Block

Some of us have a bit of a problem.

Some of us have a huge problem.

Cheryl from CMash Loves to Read and Gina from Hott Books are two such people. And they are the founding mothers of the Reading Challenge Addict Blog. Bev from My Reader’s Block is one with a HUGE problem and the current author and caretaker of the Blog. We each can stand proudly and say,

I am a Reading Challenge Addict.

So we are challenging each of you who can also say that you also are a Reading Challenge Addict.
There will be random prizes and recognition for those who are meeting their own expectations by completing the challenges they’ve entered.

How addicted are you? I don’t quite know yet what level I will sign up for until all of 2013 challenges have been posted.

Easy as Pie: 1-5 Challenges (Entered & Completed)
On the Roof: 6-10 Challenges (Entered & Completed)
In Flight: 11-15 Challenges (Entered & Completed)
Out of This World: 16+ Challenges (Entered & Completed)

Rules:

We’re not making this a difficult challenge, actually, it’s going to be very simple!

The newest edition of the challenge will begin on January 1 and end on December 31, 2013.
Write a starting post joining the challenge and outlining your challenges.
Track all of your challenge accomplishments – good & bad.
Stop by to join us in the mini-challenges, updates & extra giveaways throughout the year.
Comment like crazy and offer support for your fellow addicts.
Have FUN!

Easy, right? Who wants to be in on the fun? What else will be on offer? Random giveaways for participants to enter and unannounced special drawings for commenters on the site so be sure to leave your email address with your comment! Are you ready?

This reading challenge is hosted by Reading Challenge Addict. For more information and to sign-up, please see this post.

The next one I failed miserably at in 2012, so until I get it right, will be signing up again. Plus I really like the button.

Hosted by Bev at My Reader’s Block

Last year I had several folks either discover this reading challenge late in the game or who enjoyed it so much that they asked me to host again. Just this week I’ve had requests from the color fans asking for another round. So, for your challenge reading pleasure, I will once again host The Color Coded Reading Challenge beginning January 2013. Since this is my third year in, I’ve loosened the categories up a bit–I will now accept any shade of the required colors.

Here are the rules:

*Read nine books in the following categories.

1. A book with “Blue” or any shade of Blue (Turquoise, Aquamarine, Navy, etc.) in the title.

2. A book with “Red” or any shade of Red (Scarlet, Crimson, Burgundy, etc.) in the title.

3. A book with “Yellow” or any shade of Yellow (Gold, Lemon, Maize, etc.)in the title.

4. A book with “Green” or any shade of Green (Emerald, Lime, Jade, etc.) in the title.

5. A book with “Brown” or any shade of Brown (Tan, Chocolate, Beige, etc.) in the title.

6. A book with “Black” or any shade of Black (Jet, Ebony, Charcoal, etc.) in the title.

7. A book with “White” or any shade of White (Ivory, Eggshell, Cream, etc.)in the title.

8. A book with any other color in the title (Purple, Orange, Silver, Pink, Magenta, etc.).

9. A book with a word that implies color (Rainbow, Polka-dot, Plaid, Paisley, Stripe, etc.).

* Any book read from January 1 through December 31, 2013 will count.

*Crossovers with other challenges are fine.

*Everyone who completes all nine categories will be entered in a year-end drawing for a book-related prize package.

*Please post about the challenge on your blog. Sign ups accepted until Nov 30, 2013.

*Please sign up using the Linky [at the host’s site]. Give your name & blog (Example: Bev @ My Reader’s Block) and use a direct link to your challenge post as your url. Please don’t connect to just your home page. Links to a list on GoodReads or other social media sites are also acceptable.

*Please use the Review Page to post review links and a final wrap-up post when you finish the challenge. (Review Page Link coming soon)

*No blog or GoodReads site? That’s okay. Post a comment [at the host’s site] to announce your entry into the challenge and when you have completed the challenge just post a comment at the review site with a list of your books.

This reading challenge is hosted by My Reader’s Block. For more information and to sign-up, please see this post.

Want to join me? Just click on the link to sign up. I am sure there will be a few more.