October 2013

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Date with the Dead by Chris Myers @CMyersFiction

Posted on Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Date with the Dead

Sixteen-year-old Jolie Livingston’s closest and only friend Drew is this really hot dead guy, and it bites that the self-absorbed princesses at school cannot even see him. That’s right she can communicate with the dead. It’s the living she has trouble with. She and her mom inherited this awesome crib in Plymouth, MA. It’s quite a step-up from the homeless shelter in New Orleans, but there’s a catch. They can’t afford the past due mortgage, so Jolie’s working on that.

She starts a ghost hunting business called Ripsters. Somehow she’s managed to recruit Brittany, a glamour SAP smothered in pink, and a techie allergic to ghosts. Brit actually thinks he resembles the R&B singer Chris Brown. All that pink has clouded her vision. They both have special talents Jolie’s hoping will be useful to their venture. Right now, they’re working for a family in need of major therapy due to a dead guy with a hole in his head.

AWARDS
Top 100 semi-finalist of 2009 Amazon Breakthrough Novel
2008 Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers Gold Contest Finalist for Ripsters

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Genre - YA Paranormal Mystery, Romance

Rating – PG-13

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Website http://www.chrismyersfiction.com

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Nobody Has to Know by Frank Nappi @FrankNappi

Posted on Tuesday, October 29, 2013

http://www.dreamstime.com/-image23713420

Nobody Has To Know, Frank Nappi’s dark and daring new thriller, tells the story of Cameron Baldridge, a popular high school teacher whose relationship with one of his students leads him down an unfortunate and self-destructive path. Stalked through text-messages, Baldridge fights for his life against a terrifying extortion plot and the forces that threaten to expose him. NHTK is a sobering look into a world of secrets, lies, and shocking revelations, and will leave the reader wondering many things, including whether or not you can ever really know the person you love.

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Genre - Thriller

Rating – PG-13

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Website http://www.franknappi.com

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Patti Larsen – Finding Your Writer’s Voice @PattiLarsen

Finding Your Writer’s Voice

by Patti Larsen

I remember being told, back in the days I first thought I wanted to write for a living, I needed to find my “writer’s voice”. Teachers, professors, other writers, all insisted finding that voice, my unique way of writing, was paramount to success.

The only trouble was, none of them could ever really articulate to me exactly what “writer’s voice” meant. Yes, I was told it would come out of my style, once my skills reached a certain level. But no one seemed to be able to explain to me in specific terms what I was looking for.

Frustrating? You bet. I spent years trying to figure it out, stumbling through my own prose, writing short stories, fan fiction, my first book. Outlining, graduating from journalism, screenwriting, acting, writing songs… and always, the elusive “writer’s voice” haunted me.

Until, one day, I realized something. Had an epiphany as I emerged from another world and the mind of a teenager back into my own. I finally knew what my teachers and others were talking about. In a flash of inspiration, I understood I’d been hearing my writer’s voice all along.

In the voices of my characters.

The “ah-ha!” moment made me laugh out loud. And gave me a very clear answer to the question when I’m asked about writer’s voice myself.

Writer’s voice literally comes from the people we write about. Honing my skills was important because it allows me to listen, rather than think, when I’m writing. I no longer have to ponder my grammar use, my turn of phrase—those skills have become automatic, leaving me open to paying attention. The writing then becomes the job of the voice—I’m just a conduit now through which that voice emerges.

So, the next time someone asks you to find your writer’s voice, you’ll know exactly what to do. Hone your writing skills.

Listen.

And write.

About Patti Larsen: You’re not looking for my polished bio, huh? You sure you want more? The real dirty, down deep, nitty gritty? Fair enough. Here goes: I’m a card-carrying nerd. It’s taken years to admit it. I’m also a hermit in a writing basement who prefers solitude to people (cats always welcome). I’m a writing fiend who hears the voices of teenagers and blushes at the S-E-X parts. I don’t sleep very well. Ever. My mind is too busy. I am a feline loving married woman who could easily end up a crazy cat lady if my husband would let me. I am a paradigm shifter, a believer in self and my own personal power. I see everything in black and white until the gray is explained to me. I am a fiercely loyal friend, a confidant and a Tarot card reader and intuitive. I am a proud roller derby girl, a total dweeb and can’t dance to save my soul. I am terrified of heights and challenge that fear every chance I get. Oh, and I’m the Creator. The Queen of my own Destiny. I love that.

Find her all over the Internet:

sign up for new release notices www.bit.ly/pattilarsenemail

and find Family Magic www.bit.ly/familymagic

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Genre – YA Urban Fantasy

Rating – PG

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Website http://www.pattilarsen.com/

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Constantinopolis by James Shipman @jshipman_author

His father! Mehmet stewed when he thought of him. His father had never shown him any real affection or spent significant time with him. He was not, after all, originally the heir to the Sultanate. He was a second son and only became heir when his older brother died. Mehmet had been forced from then on to endure a frantic and often harsh tutoring process. He was just beginning to grasp his responsibilities when at the age of 12 his father had retired and named him Sultan. He had done the best he could to govern, but in short order Grand Vizier Halil had called his father back to take over the throne. The Sultan felt Halil should have helped him, should have supported him. Instead he had watched and reported Mehmet’s shortcomings to his father, betraying him and leading to his humiliation.

From then on Mehmet had bided his time. He had learned to keep his thoughts and emotions to himself, to trust no one. He had studied everything: military art, languages, administration, and the arts. He had worked tirelessly so that when he next ruled he would not only equal his father but also exceed him. He would be the greatest Sultan in the history of his people, Allah willing.

His chance came when Murad finally died only two years before, as Mehmet turned 19. Mehmet quickly took power, ordering his baby half brother strangled to assure there would be no succession disputes, and set to organizing his empire. He had learned to be cautious and measured, leaving his father’s counselors and even Halil in power to assist him. From there he had slowly built up a group of supporters. They were young and exclusively Christian converts to Islam. These followers, many of whom now held council positions, were not nearly as powerful as the old guard, but they were gaining ground. They were the future, if Halil did not interfere.

Halil. His father’s Grand Vizier and now his own. He had always treated Mehmet with condescending politeness. He was powerful, so powerful that Mehmet could not easily remove him. So powerful it was possible he could remove Mehmet in favor of a cousin or other relative. Mehmet hated him above all people in the world, but he could not simply replace him. He needed Halil, at least for now, and Halil knew it.

This dilemma was the primary reason for Mehmet’s nighttime wanderings. He needed time away from the palace. Time to think and work out a solution to the problem. How could he free himself from Halil without losing power in the process? He could simply order Halil executed, but would the order be followed or would it be his own head sitting on a pole? The elders and religious leaders all respected and listened to Halil. Only the young renegades, the Christian converts who owed their positions to Mehmet were loyal to him. If Halil was able to rally the old guard to him, Mehmet had no doubt that the result would be a life or death dispute.

Mehmet needed to find a cause that could rally the people to him. The conversations he had heard night after night told him this same thing. The people felt that his father was a great leader, and that he was not. If he could gain the people’s confidence, then he would not need Halil, and the other elders would follow his lead.

Mehmet knew the solution. He knew exactly what would bring the people to his side, and what would indeed make him the greatest Sultan in the history of the Ottoman people.

The solution however was a great gamble. His father and father’s fathers had conquered huge tracts of territory in Anatolia and then in Europe, primarily at the expense of the Greeks. Mehmet intended to propose something even more audacious, to conquer the one place that his ancestors had failed to take. If he succeeded he would win the adoration of his people and would be able to deal with Halil and any others who might oppose him. If he failed . . .

The Sultan eventually made his way back near the palace, to the home of his closest friend, Zaganos Pasha. Zaganos, the youngest brother of Mehmet’s father in law, had converted to Islam at age 13, and was Mehmet’s trusted general and friend. He was the most prominent member of the upstart Christian converts that made up the Sultan’s support base.

Zaganos was up, even at this late hour, and embraced his friend, showing him in and ordering apple tea from his servants. Zaganos was shorter and stockier than Mehmet, a powerful middle-aged man in the prime of his life. He had receding dark brown hair. A long scar cut across his forehead and down over his left eye. He looked on Mehmet with smiling eyes extending in to crow’s feet. He smiled like a proud uncle or father.

Constantinopolis

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Genre – Historical Fiction

Rating – PG

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Connect with  James Shipman on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://james-shipman.com

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Excerpt: Diary of a Beverly Hills Matchmaker by Marla Martenson @marlamartenson

Posted on Monday, October 28, 2013

Matchmaker, Matchmaker!
Make Me a Match

Achichi decorator came up with the color of one of the walls in my Beverly Hills office by matching paint swatches to the silky dark chocolate Godiva heart-shaped ganaches that sit in a crystal dish alongside Teuscher Irish Cream truffles, and chocolate cordials of cherries soaked in black port and wrapped in gold foil. We do pamper our clients. I mention this so you’ll know that there are many aspects of my job that I absolutely adore. Such niceties distract me from fantasies of . . . dismemberment.

Hi Marla, Scott, here. I’m so glad I joined your dating agency; I can see this is going to be verrrrry interesting. . . . Hey, the gal you lined me up with last evening was gorgeous, but I would really like my matches to be a 10 or, ideally, a 10+. And the gal needs to back up her beauty with an income of her own and her own living quarters. No roommate situations. I don’t waste my time with someone who doesn’t live up to my expectations—you know, long legs, firm small butt, double-D’s, thin arms, blonde hair.

SCL

Ahem.

Dear Scott,

To paraphrase the deathless sentiments of Roseanne Barr, I’ll get my wand. Oh, wait, it’s in the repair shop, utterly depleted. I’m having to make do with our back-up magic lamp, but the genie keeps laughing and muttering about peace in the Middle East being an easier request as he disappears in a puff of smoke. He’s such a joker. But since you have so much to offer, it shouldn’t be too difficult to find the woman of your fantasies since all the 10+s in our database say that a man willing to plough up his bald scalp with those cute little tufts of implanted hair is a real turn-on. And most “gals” don’t mind giving up their stilettos to avoid towering over a man of your stature.

Of course, I don’t write this. This is my first email of the day at Double D Dating Service here in Beverly Hills where I’m the head matchmaker. Double D is not the company’s real name, as you may have guessed, just my own special pet name for it. I dash off a breezy professional response to Scott as if diplomacy were my mother tongue.

Dear Scott,

I’m so glad you enjoyed your evening with a gorgeous woman. A new and interesting experience, huh? Well, we do have an ever-growing list of many stunning women, eager to meet you. I’ll get back to you later in the day with another name.

Marla

Something is nagging at me. Oh, my conscience. It’s not bothering me at all about the direct lie: eager to meet you. I’ve left in a little dig. I change that one snarky line about dating gorgeous women being a new experience to simply “An interesting experience indeed,” and hit send. Next email.

Dear Marla,

I really found Sandy to be attractive, fun, intelligent, and cultured. We had a great time. The only thing is, I am wondering if she has a big butt. She was wearing one of those puffy dresses. She says that she does all kinds of activities like dance classes, working out at the gym, and hiking, but I just can’t be sure how big her butt is. Is there any way you can let me know if it’s big or if the dress she was wearing just gave that illusion?

Joseph

Joe, don’t you know that when we bring a woman into our service, it means that we have carefully inspected her butt from every angle and therefore certify it is also a 10 along with the rest of her? I’m so glad you asked though, because you must never ever consider dating a woman with flesh on her butt. Oversized curves belong above the waist only. Makes perfect sense. How could nature have created such a serious design flaw?

Sigh. I find it so comforting to type out what I truly want to say to some of these clods before writing the response I must write. God forbid Gary should ever see this stuff. I am, after all, good at what I do. Pictures of my successes hang on the chocolate-colored wall above fresh pale pink hydrangeas: two of happy couples at their respective posh wedding receptions and several more couples on honeymoons at places like Bellagio on Lake Como in Italy, or snorkeling with humpback whales off Vava’u, Tonga, in the South Pacific, or skiing in Aspen. I do still believe in love—the soul-mate kind of love. I think deep down, the Scotts and Josephs do too. They just rarely know it.

Dear Joseph,

Sandy’s dress probably created the wrong illusion. Call her for another date; I think you will be pleased to find that in addition to being beautiful, intelligent, and a most remarkable woman, she’s also fit and trim.

Marla

I polish off my vanilla soy latte, ready for the next email, when I hear Gary, my boss, barking at Charlotte, the other matchmaker in the office. She hangs her head as she follows him into his office. He doesn’t usually come in on Thursdays, so this isn’t looking good for Charlotte.

I step outside the artistically etched glass double doors of my office to check with Alana at the front desk. “What’s going on?” I ask in a stage whisper.

Alana, a petite blonde in her twenties with big brown eyes and a gorgeous smile, is just about to say something when Gary strides over. “Back to work!” he tells me. Then to Alana he says, “Find the Harrison file. . . . And never wear those shoes here again. If you want to look like Peter Pan, work somewhere else.”

I can’t help but turn to check out Alana’s shoes. Ohh, they’re darling: green flats with little cut-outs of stars.

“Marla, I hope you have some makeup in your bag,” Gary says. “You’re looking washed out again. Do you go to the gym before work or something? Don’t you two get it that we’re all about glamour and sex appeal here? Our clients don’t want Peter Pan and Miss Grundy lining up their matches.”

“Right,” I say, feeling my face redden to the roots of my already red hair. “I’ll touch up.” Gary can be a nice guy, but he does go on rampages.

Back in my office, I pile all my black matchmaking catalogues on my desk to hide from Gary’s view. I eat a chocolate. Then another. One more. Call it an early lunch. Mmmmm. Better. Deep breaths, a few affirmations. I am young and hot-looking. I am a terrific matchmaker. I am lucky to have this job.

Back to work. Next email.

Dear Marla,

Denise looks like she’s pushing forty. Not to say there’s anything wrong with that. I live in Newport, so I can’t help but date forty-year-olds occasionally, but when it comes to being set up with someone through an exclusive agency such as yours, I don’t want to waste “matches.” And we need to talk about Natasha, the last gal you lined me up with—a bit low-brow, don’t you think? I will send you a few photos of females that I find attractive so hopefully that will help you see the caliber of beauty I’m seeking. I want to date ONLY beautiful women, and I just won’t settle for anything less.

Let me know if anyone in your stable meets my criteria.

Thanks, Dave.

I had matched him with Natasha because of the astonishing bounty of her bosom. But as to Denise—she’s nowhere near the accursed four-oh. But if she were, how could any man in his fifties possibly be expected to tolerate a crone of such advanced years?

His comment reminds me that I haven’t “touched up” yet. I pull out my compact and scrutinize time’s deepening etch in the tiny lines around my eyes. I pat them over with mineral powder, add a dusting of blush to my cheeks, a brighter lipstick, and heavy gloss.

I sit back and ponder the photo of Denise, a gorgeous twenty-eight-year-old woman, and all I can do is shake my head. This beautiful young woman is Dave’s fourth reject. Before I worked in the matchmaking field, I honestly had no idea how shallow, picky, selfish, and entitled some clients could be. After six years of feedback, demands, and expectations, I’m still thrown for a loop now and then. I don’t want to pass judgment on people; I want to keep an open heart, but geez.

It’s times like this when I need an anchor, a sane voice, someone who lives far away from the zany nuttiness of Beverly Hills. I call my friend Shelly in Federal Way, Washington, where we both grew up—it’s a little suburb of Seattle, a land far away from this town’s obsession with age, looks, and perfection.

“Listen to this,” I tell her and then read her Dave’s email— anonymously, of course.

I hear a gasp on the other end of the line.

“My reaction exactly,” I tell her.

“What is he? Some rich stud?”

“Well, rich anyway. I’m supposed to find matches for these guys. They all want perfect 10s—even if they’re dweebs who’d be lucky to rate a 5!”

“What about the women?”

“Yeah, some days the gold-diggers and airheads get to me too.”

“Guess I don’t have to envy you anymore, thinking that you have the perfect life in Los Angeles,” Shelly teases. “At least you’re not still a waitress in Chicago.”

Shelly is referring to my life seven years ago. Memories of my fourteen years spent waiting on tables jolt my sense of perspective, spurring me to work ever harder and continue with the exasperating emails,.

I see Charlotte walk past my door, head held high, but I can tell she’s gotten the ax. She starts cleaning out her office. We weren’t close, so I won’t be going over and chatting. I’ll get the scoop later from Alana. After Charlotte leaves, Gary sticks his nose in my door.

“You look better,” he says. “You’ll have to meet Charlotte’s noon appointment. I’m not replacing her, so you’ll be taking her people.” He closes the door and leaves before I can say anything.

In other words, double the work, same pay. Oh boy!

Dutifully, I meet Andy and take him into the “selling office” with its stunning wall fountain sheeting water over pink-veined slabs of granite and pooling in a pink copper basin beneath two spotlights angled to form a soft heart-shape. The arty painting on the opposite wall captures dancers, hungry with passion, a slash of pink light falling on the woman’s tan face and cleavage. Its subtle eroticism is designed to inspire rich guys to pay top dollar for what they imagine will be the world’s classiest women. I offer the new client something to drink, and we settle in to chat about what he is looking for in a lady and what his lifestyle is like.

Andy has just flown in for the day to buy a sex life, I mean meet someone, and then he’ll jet back to Dallas. He has the most charming Southern accent.

He’s forty-six years old with three kids: aged eight, ten, and twelve. He explains that he would like to meet women under thirty because he’d like the option of having another child.

Uh-huh. Right. He’s eager to go through diapers and babysitters and soccer games for the fourth time. I’ve found that men usually claim to want one more kid as an excuse to date younger women.

I learn that Andy likes riding horses, racing cars, playing golf, working out at the gym, and traveling. He says that although he isn’t a redneck, he’s a redneck at heart—whatever that means. “Do you prefer a fresh-faced girl-next-door look, or more of a Pamela Anderson type of look?” I ask him.

He mentions blonde hair and nice legs, then pulls on his goatee and says, “Well, now I’ll tell you, my ex-wife wears a C-cup, but she has nice nipples.”

I stop taking notes. And so . . . ?

Then I get it. This guy expects me to know what a woman’s nipples are like! I focus on my clipboard and remind myself that he will be paying $40,000 to find the right woman. Maybe more. I manage not to hiss at him.

After the meeting, I walk Andy down to the taxi stand. He turns to me and says, “I want you to be honest. Do you think that I have a chance to meet the right girl? Am I going to be too difficult to match up?”

“Not at all, Andy! You’re a great catch with a wonderful lifestyle.” Lots of gorgeous L.A. women are closet rednecks. “I’ll start looking for matches for you this week. Have a safe trip.” I want to add: and I’ll be investigating nipple potential for you, sir!

I’m also remembering a recent client who broke up with a thirty-two-year-old woman he really liked because he said that she had big areolas. Yes, big areolas! She was perfect in every way: sweet, charming, financially secure, intelligent, cute as a posy with a rockin’ body, but he said that he dreaded when she took off her blouse. After dating him, she felt so insecure that she called a plastic surgeon to see if he’d take a look at her areolas. Yikes!

I guess I should change our questionnaire to include nipple preferences. I could put in something subtle like, “How do you feel about headlights on a Duesenberg?” I’ve seen older guys fall over themselves laughing at this line. I had to look it up. Fabulously snazzy old car with, you know, big headlights, wink, wink.

Something has gone too far though.

I don’t mind telling you that when I first took this job, I considered myself young and hot-looking, but after working with some of these guys and hearing their smug criticism over every aspect of a woman’s body, I’m a bit crestfallen. Getting bombarded with male mating preferences is very disconcerting. Now that I’m fortyish, I look in the mirror, and I see someone who looks pretty darn good looking back at me. So why are so many men obsessing over the extra ounce of flesh, the telltale frown line, and nipple perfection? Gimme a flippin’ break!

I push past the clueless effrontery of these men every day, but once in a while, I catch myself judging my most intimate anatomy by their standards. I get so many of these emails every week, they slither around in my head nagging at me about how I’m officially “undesirable”—according to what most of my male clients think they want and must have. How could these idiots close themselves off to the wonders of love for something so damn insignificant?

I take a deep breath or two. I’m already a little wired with caffeine, but I cannot get through the rest of this day without another soy latte. ’Bucks is just down the street, and I still have a few minutes left of my lunch break.

I need this job, I remind myself while in line for my midday fix. And, I mean, who doesn’t want an ideal mate? A dream lover is the stuff of fantasies. Yet, who among us is ideal? The pain of being dumped or disappointed is what keeps people going to shrinks, buying self-help books, bravely enduring elective surgery—and hiring us.

Bolstered by another caffeine infusion, I slog through the rest of the day, interviewing men who are willing to spend up to $100,000 to get the woman of their fantasies. (The women do not pay. This figures: If you’re a gorgeous woman, it is unlikely you are going to need to pay anyone to find you a date.) I keep current on the feedback. Both the man and woman are to report on how they found their date: strong mate potential? Problems? Did everyone “behave” themselves? I think you know what I mean.

Gary has left for the day, and Alana comes into my office with the scoop. “Charlotte was fired because two clients complained she didn’t pay attention to what they were looking for. You know what that means!”

“Yeah. They’ll now be my problem,” I say.

At six o’clock, I still have an hour to go before quitting time. I grab my cell phone and call my friend Bobbie in Del Mar. I’m not going to whine, I just want to hear her upbeat stuff. Her life is exciting. She usually picks up on the first call. I love that. Hate phone tag.

“Hi, it’s Marla.”

We chat a bit and Bobbie invites me to an upcoming social event—something to do with farm animals?

I’m so tired, I just say, “Sounds wonderful.”

“Are you at home yet?” she asks.

“No. Everyone else in our building gets off at five, but I still have another hour of work.”

“You work till seven? Marla, honestly, you deserve combat pay! Especially with the bizarro demands from some of your clients! Do something fun tonight!”

“I should finish chapter 4 of my new book, but I just don’t have the juice. Maybe I’ll do some window-shopping down on Rodeo. That’s always good for a lift.”

“Is Adolfo working?”

“Of course. My nights are pathetic, I know.”

“Marla, you should just open your own matchmaking service. You’d be fabulous and then you could make your own hours!”

“Thanks. People have suggested I do that, but honestly, I like being able to hand over the big problems to Gary.”

There is a pause. “Sweetie, something’s wrong. I can tell. I’m a little worried about you,” Bobbie says. “I mean, excuse me, your soul is limping.”

I chuckle. She’s doing a little riff off the title of my first book, Excuse Me, Your Soul Mate Is Waiting.

The office line is ringing, and Alana is long gone.

“I gotta go,” I say. “I love you. Talk to you soon.”

I pick up the office phone, schedule an appointment, and get back to the emails, back to the guys who are looking for gorgeous, starving waifs with double D cups—“tits on a stick,” as Bobbie calls them.

Affirmations

I am a terrific Beverly Hills matchmaker happily playing Cupid all day long.

I have many wonderful friends like Shelly and Bobbie whose friendship keeps me from screaming at highly inappropriate times.

Heaven has blessed me with perfectly lovely areolas, thank you very much!

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Memoir

Rating – PG13

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Connect with Marla Martenson on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://marlamartenson.com/

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In Love With My Best Friend by Sheena Binkley

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Camille

How did my life get so complicated? One minute, I, Camille Anderson, was living a pretty normal life in which nothing ever happened to me, and the next I'm practically being hauled away from the premier wedding venue in Houston, The Corinthian, by security because of my sudden outburst to the groom.

I should have known I was setting myself up for disaster, but I had to do it. I had to tell my best friend that I'd been in love with him since I was thirteen.

I really didn't expect the scene to unfold the way it did, especially while Trevor was getting married, but I couldn't hold my feelings in much longer. I felt he was making a terrible mistake, because he was marrying the wrong woman. He should have been marrying me.

I guess I should backtrack to when Trevor and I first met. It was seventeen years ago, when the Williams family first moved into the house next to ours. I was outside waiting for my friend Tia Simmons to come by when I first noticed Trevor. He was absolutely gorgeous as he stepped out of his family's SUV. He had that "boy next door" look, with wavy black hair and smooth ivory skin. He looked over at me and gave me a huge grin, which I greatly returned.

After that day, not only did we become friends, but our parents became great friends as well. We always went by each other's homes for dinner or for game night (until we were too old to appreciate hanging out with our parents on a Friday night).

We were practically inseparable during our high school years, and many of our friends thought we would eventually get married and have lots of kids. When anyone mentioned that to Trevor, he would shrug it off and say, "We're just friends, and it will stay that way until the day we die." Usually those words would tug at my heartstrings, but being the shy person I am, I never let my feelings show.

As we went to college, Trevor and I went into the same major, public relations. That was when he met Chelsea Parker, who was also my roommate. At first I liked Chelsea because she was basically a sweet person, but when she set her sights on Trevor, I quickly disliked her. Not because she took Trevor away from me, but because she became a different person.

If only I could go back to four weeks ago, or even seventeen years ago, I would be with the man I loved...

~

Four weeks ago....

"I don't know why you dragged me to this," I said as I looked at my friend Tia. The two of us were inside the Aventine Ballroom of Hotel Icon waiting for our friend Trevor and his fiancée, Chelsea, to arrive for their engagement and welcome home party. The two had announced their engagement to everyone a while back when Trevor was visiting his parents before going back to Dallas. Not only did he announce his engagement, but he also said that he had accepted a new position at a prestigious PR firm and was moving back to Houston. Although I was happy that my best friend was moving back, I was not thrilled that he was getting married.

"For once, why can't you be happy for Tre? He and Chelsea are finally getting married."

I gave Tia an evil stare as I looked toward the revolving door to the ballroom.

"You know how I feel about Trevor and Chelsea getting married."

"Oh please, Cam, when are you going to get past the fact that Trevor found someone? I told you to admit your feelings to him, but being the person you are, you decided not to."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You felt you would have been rejected if you told Trevor your true feelings."

"If I remember correctly, in high school when Charles asked him why we never hooked up, he said, and I quote, 'We're just friends.'"

Tia rolled her eyes at me and started to stare at the door as well. This was not the first time we'd had this conversation about my feelings for Trevor, so I'm pretty sure Tia was tired of hearing it.

Tia was my other best friend and the complete opposite of me. While I was quiet and reserved, Tia was wild and carefree. She always did what she wanted and didn't care about the consequences. People always thought we were sisters, with our caramel-colored complexion and long, dark-brown hair. But that was where the similarities ended. I looked down at my black sequin dress that went above my knees, wondering if I was dressed appropriately for the occasion; but as I looked at the hot-pink dress Tia was sporting, I figured my outfit was perfect.

"So how are things between you and Eric?"

"Finished; I broke up with him a couple of days ago."

"I'm assuming because he's not Trevor? Cam, you have got to move on."

I sighed as I noticed two figures coming through the door. I started to breathe slowly as I watched my friend walk in with his fiancée. Trevor always was attractive, but tonight he looked really handsome in a dark blue suit, white shirt, and blue and white striped tie. His black, wavy hair was cut short, bringing out his beautiful brown eyes. He walked hand in hand with Chelsea, the woman I wish I'd never met, who was positively glowing in an ivory-colored empire dress. Her reddish brown hair was pulled into a tight ponytail and her makeup was flaw- less. Although I was completely jealous of Chelsea, I had to admit the two made a stunning couple.

Tia gave me a frown.

"You OK?"

"I'm cool. Let's just get this over with."

While the crowd of family and friends were clapping and whistling for the happy couple, all I could do was just stand in my place, looking at Trevor as if he was the only person in the room. He gave me a smile that showed the deep dimples on each of his cheeks. As he went to greet a couple of his family members, I took a deep breath to control any tears from flowing.

I shouldn't have come tonight.

~

Trevor

"Why did we plan a huge engagement party? Everyone knows we're engaged," I asked my fiancée, Chelsea, as we were walking hand in hand down the corridor inside Hotel Icon.

"Sweetie, I just wanted everyone to celebrate in our happiness and what better way than a huge party?"

I sighed as I continued to walk, not realizing how frustrated I was becoming.

Chelsea was the love of my life. I instantly knew I wanted to marry her when I first laid eyes on her in Camille's dorm room. The two were roommates their junior year at University of Houston, which was great for me, considering I was able to see my best friend and my girlfriend at the same time. Although Camille and I were really good friends, I got the sense that something had been bothering her since I'd been dating Chelsea. Call me crazy, but it seemed as if Camille was jealous of our relationship. I hope not, because Chelsea loves Camille and considers her a good friend.

As we walked into the ballroom, everyone from our family and our friends were clapping and cheering for our arrival. We started to wave at everyone as we entered. Once I turned my head toward the center of the room, I had to stop and admire the person staring straight at me. My heart jolted several beats at the beauty who was giving me a dazzling smile. Camille Anderson had always been a beautiful woman, from her caramel-colored skin to her deep chocolate eyes; she definitely stood out in a crowd.

Just looking at her long hair flowing around her face and the black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places made me feel sort of embarrassed, because I shouldn't have been looking at her in that way. I always considered her my best friend and nothing more, so why was I looking at her differently now?

Chelsea turned her attention to me, wondering what was wrong.

"Is everything OK?"

I suddenly realized I was staring a little too long as I turned to Chelsea.

"I'm fine," I said as I squeezed her hand.

I gave Camille a huge grin as I walked over to talk to a nearby guest. I snuck another peek at her; she was talking to our friend Tia near the bar. I don't know what was going on with me, but hopefully this feeling I was having about my best friend would go away soon.

That's if I want it to.

In Love With My Best Friend

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Genre - Contemporary Fiction

Rating – PG13

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Connect with Sheena Binkley on Twitter

Website http://sheenabinkley.wordpress.com/

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Ernest Dempsey – How to Be a Great Guest Blogger @ErnDempsey

Posted on Sunday, October 27, 2013

How to Be a Great Guest Blogger

by Ernest Dempsey

No matter what kind of business you are in, you need to get eyeballs on your products. That’s just a simple fact.

Well, it’s simple except that getting consumers to see what you’re selling can be a tricky thing. There is a world full of other people who are all vying for the same attention. So, how do you separate yourself from the rest of the noise?

Some people use advertising. But that can get expensive and when you look at it, most forms of advertising don’t deliver great results, especially not for writers.

Over the last few years, there has been a growing trend in the online world. Writers have realized that creating an audience out of thin air is an extremely difficult proposition. With that realization, they have adopted the practice of borrowing the audience of others.

Guest Posting

Writing guest posts for other authors has proven to be a tremendous way to pick up new subscribers and drive huge bumps of traffic to your blog or website. And the process isn’t all that different from submitting articles to an offline magazine (something writers have been doing for decades).

I recently ran a guest posting campaign to drive some traffic to my site in hopes of picking up some new subscribers. The results were good, not ridiculous, but definitely solid. I increased traffic to my site by 100% and increased my subscriber count by 75%.

Keep in mind I didn’t have a lot of traffic or subscribers to begin with.

Still, more is a good thing.

But how do you write content for another writer? Moreover, how do you pitch, get accepted, and write something that a blogger will love.

How to Be a Great Guest Blogger

Always give your best stuff. Seriously. Don’t sit there and think that you should keep your best content for your own site.

When you are pitching a blogger or online magazine, give them the cream of the crop, and be sure to tell them you are.

Every time I pitch a blogger I’ve never written for, I tell them that I send only my best stuff as guest posting material. And it’s the truth.

Why do it that way?

Because they are the ones with the audience. If you give them your best content, it is more likely to be shared by a larger number of people than if you simply posted it on your own site. It is also going to be seen by more eyeballs, and those eyeballs will love it.

If they love it, they will click on the link to your site. Now they can see all your other great content. Oh, look, this person sells stuff too.

Click.

See how that works?

Another key to being a great guest blogger is being friendly and interactive. Be sure you tell the blogger that you love interacting with people in the comments section and that the day your post goes live you will respond quickly to each comment.

Who to Write For and What to Write

This part is easier than people think.

Go to alltop.com or just do a search on your favorite search engine for blogs that relate to what you write. If you write science fiction, maybe you should find science blogs, technology blogs, or even news blogs. If you write romance, there are a million of those kinds of blogs out there for relationships, dating, etc.

My blog’s content is about personal development. So, I find blogs that relate to that and write guest posts for them. Keep in mind, I write action/adventure and science fiction, so my blog’s content has nothing to do with my books.

That doesn’t matter. Your blog’s topic can be anything you’re passionate about or are an expert in.

Do you have to have a blog on your site to write guest posts? No.

I know a woman who picked up 1000 subscribers before she even launched any content. All she had was an opt-in form.

Remember that when you are looking for a place to guest post, take a look at the popular articles and read through them thoroughly. This will give you a great idea as to what kind of posts the blogger likes to run.

Some prefer personal stories with a great point at the end while others like to do simple lists of how to do stuff.

Combining all these tools and ideas will turn you into a great guest blogger in no time.

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Genre –  Science Fiction

Rating – PG13

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Website http://ernestdempsey.net/

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Birth of an Assassin by Rik Stone @stone_rik

Otto’s mind takes him back to finding his mother at the Serbsky Institute.

Inmates had jittered and made signs at him as he made his way through the corridors. “Please help me,” he heard from some and, “They have me here because of my political beliefs,” from others. They’d reached out to him as he passed, and his insides had quaked. With the stench of piss and shit everywhere, revulsion filled him. But he’d felt no compassion for these people. He hadn’t given a fuck about them. Only his mother mattered.

“This way,” the nurse had said. “She’s through here.”

He found her in a large open room. She sat on the only piece of furniture in it. The chair was pushed back against the wall and she rocked slightly, staring blankly into nothingness. Spittle leaked from her mouth and she was barely recognizable as the woman he loved. Her long, luxurious, oily-black hair had been shaven to the skin. Her teeth had somehow been removed and her formerly full face had caved in because of it. Like a corpse, she was yellowed and sunken. Only 47 years old and she looked twice that. He’d wished he hadn’t found her and cried bitterly – in front of those sadistic bastards that called themselves nurses.

More like prison guards. And in reality, that’s what they were. Soviet dissidents ended up in places like Serbsky, out of harm’s way. In mental hospitals where they could be abused and broken. Somewhere to extinguish credibility. He’d seen those inmates beaten, teeth punched or kicked from their faces. And if they still didn’t bow to the might of the people, enforced lobotomy wasn’t unheard of as a final step.

With desperation, he’d hoped his mother hadn’t suffered such cruelty.

*

And now, somehow, she’d made it through to 60. Why, oh why had she lasted this long? All those years, and still she rocked on that old wooden chair and stared at nothing. How could life be this cruel?

He remembered the first time he’d visited the asylum in full Spetsnaz uniform. After calling several of the nurses together, he said, “I know you all have military connections. On that basis, I won’t explain this uniform. Each of you has some sort of responsibility to my mother. The good news is you’re about to receive an extra income. The bad news: if you don’t look after my mother properly and see she gets the kind of care and nourishment she needs, I may have to call on my KGB colleagues. I hope we all understand what that could mean.”

Memories dissolved as he entered the large open room. On his instructions, her hair had been left to grow. But now it was too long and no one had shown it a comb. Still she rocked, gazing into nothingness with the expression of a lunatic on her face.

The burly warder turned to leave but Otto grabbed his arm. “We have an agreement. Next time I come here, I expect my mother to be presentable. Look at her, her hair hasn’t had attention for who knows how long. She needs a bath and a change of clothes. She looks like she’s just puked down them.”

“I err…,” the nurse spluttered with a voice too high for his size.

“Fuck you and your errs. Why do I pay you people so much? I’ll say this once. If I’m not satisfied with the way she looks next time I come, I’ll personally see to it that you have teeth to match hers. And each time after that, I’ll take you a step further down that road. Clear enough?”

“Yes, Captain. I’ll see to it myself.”

The nurse left and Otto looked at his mother. His heart brimmed. The only woman he’d ever loved – could ever love. He got down on his honkers, and took her hand. No sign of recognition, but at least she didn’t pull away.

“Hello, Mother, how are you today?”

Birth of an Assassin

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Genre – Thriller, Crime, Suspense

Rating – R

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Website http://rik-stone.simdif.com

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The Color Pink by Parker Paige

Posted on Saturday, October 26, 2013

The_Color_Pink_Cover_for_Kindle

Can wearing the color pink attract true love?

That is the question Summer Jones intends to answer.

In her early thirties, Summer Jones thought that she had found the perfect man, the man she planned to marry until she learned that he still had feelings for his first love. Now, at age thirty-five, Summer is ready to fall in love again. After she hears that wearing the color pink can attract true love, she sets out to do just that–and finds more than just true love.

Follow Summer as she journeys into the world of color magic and find out how she uses that magic to help her choose between one man from her past and another man who is destined to become her future.

This romantic drama serves up something fun and sexy, proving that the road to love can be paved with many painful lessons and memorable moments. It’s a story about paying attention to your past so that you don’t always have to repeat it.

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Genre - Romance

Rating – PG-13

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Website parkerpaige.wordpress.com

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Birth of an Assassin by Rik Stone @stone_rik

Birth of an Assassin

Set against the backdrop of Soviet, post-war Russia, Birth of an Assassin follows the transformation of Jez Kornfeld from wide-eyed recruit to avenging outlaw. Amidst a murky underworld of flesh-trafficking, prostitution and institutionalized corruption, the elite Jewish soldier is thrown into a world where nothing is what it seems, nobody can be trusted, and everything can be violently torn from him.

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Genre - Thriller, Crime, Suspense

Rating – R

More details about the author

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Website http://rik-stone.simdif.com

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The Photo Traveler (The Photo Traveler Series) by Arthur J. Gonzalez

Posted on Friday, October 25, 2013

CHAPTER ONE

I can’t ask for a better day to be out shooting. Man, what a view. Something about how the sun’s rays press against the faint distant outline of the mountains. Sick! If it can seem so dominating from all the way over here, I can only imagine what it must feel like up close. I don’t know. It just always kind of does something to me.

I know, I know. Lame, right? But trust me, if you lived in the hellhole I live in, anytime alone is sacred. You start to appreciate all these little not-so-particular things. Yeah—even the outline of the mountains.

Carefully, I focus the lens on my Canon 7D to capture the effect of the clouds drifting across the peaks of Mt. Rose and get my shot. A few seconds later, the sunlight dims. I hadn’t realized it was so late. I glance at my watch, wondering what’s taking Melinda so long. She promised to pick me up by five, even though I knew that would mean five-thirty. It’s five-forty-five.

I call her on my cell. It rings four times, then goes to voicemail. “Come on, Mel!” I mutter. “It’s getting late!”

I’ve had a good day so far, probably because I’ve been alone for most of it, and I really don’t want another confrontation with Jet. I can still taste the faint copper tinge of blood at the corner of my mouth where he split my lip the last time around. Two days ago.

I hit redial. Straight to voicemail. “Dammit, Mel!”

I tell myself to breathe, but my anxiety is really starting to kick in. Sweat is beading on my forehead and my heart is jolting in my chest. Why does she always have to be so impossible? I don’t get it.

The moment I hear the loud thrum of an engine roaring up the dirt road, I jump up from the boulder I’ve been perched on. It’s about damn time!

She screeches up to me in her new, cherry-red Mini Cooper and slams on the brakes. I dodge around to the passenger side. Grab the door handle. It’s locked.

“Mel!” I shout. “Open up!”

But she’s sitting behind the wheel pretending not to hear me. Eyes glued to her phone, purple nails tapping out a text message. With a tiny smirk on her glossed-up lips.

I hit the window with my fist. “Stop messing around! Jet’s gonna be pissed!”

She finishes her text, sends it … and adjusts the rearview mirror so she can check out the jet-black curls at her temples. She still hasn’t given me one look. Is she really serious right now?

I pound at the window again, as hard as I can. “Open up, dammit!” My anxiety is turning into rage. And rage is something Jet’s modeled for me only too well over the years, ever since he and his first wife, Leyla, took me in as a foster kid. Mel was just six at the time, but “my sister,” which she became after they finally adopted me, was a full-fledged brat from Day One, and she’s only gotten worse.

My fist hurts. I’m afraid of what Jet will do when we get back, since he ordered me to be home by six so I can start dinner.

But as far as Mel’s concerned, I might as well not be there. I can’t control it any longer. I take a step back, lift my knee, and kick the passenger door with all my strength. The hollow metal frame vibrates against the sole of my shoe. Mel’s prized car now has a six-inch dent right in the middle of the passenger door.

I guess that got her attention. Her mouth is hanging open. For a moment, she’s so astonished that she can’t speak. She swings her door open and charges around to the passenger side.

“MY CAR!” she screams, staring at the dent. “Are you crazy?!”

“Why couldn’t you just open up?” I yell back.

“Gavin, you’re an asshole! I was just messing with you! You’re never gonna learn to use your head, are you?”

“Go to hell!”

She goes still, then raises her eyebrows with an “Oh, really?” expression. Then she hauls off and slams her fist into the right side of my face. All I can feel is the large stone of her ring jabbing into my cheek. She stalks back to the driver’s side with a wicked smirk creasing her lips and snaps, “You can walk home!”

She slides behind the wheel, slams the door, and peels off so hard and fast that the car kicks up a stinging cloud of gravel and asphalt dust all over me.

She can’t be serious. But as the Mini disappears around the first bend in the road, I realize that she is.

* * *

Photo Traveler

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Genre - Young Adult Science Fiction

Rating – PG

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Website http://www.arthurjgonzalez.com/

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The Pat O’Malley Historical Steampunk Mystery Trilogy by Jim Musgrave

Jim Musgrave

Here are all three suspenseful mysteries in one book!

Forevermore, the first mystery, was a #2 bestseller in Amazon’s Historical Mystery category. It has received outstanding reviews from readers, and it establishes Pat O’Malley as a detective sleuth par excellence. The second mystery, Disappearance at Mount Sinai, continues the development of the characters amidst an excellent caper. The third mystery, Jane the Grabber, plunges O’Malley into the middle of the Steampunk world, and it marks a turning point in the novels to come.

Forevermore Synopsis:

“Musgrave mixes accurate history with a spell-binding plot to create an amazing who-done-it! Watch for more Pat O’Malley Mysteries.”

In post Civil War New York City, Detective Pat O’Malley is living inside Poe’s Cottage in the Bronx. O’Malley is haunted by Poe one night, and the detective finds a strange note. As a result, O’Malley decides to prove that Edgar Allan Poe did not die in Baltimore from an alcoholic binge but was, instead, murdered. O’Malley quickly becomes embroiled in a “cold case” that thrusts him into the lair of one of the most sinister and ruthless killers in 1865 New York City.

Jim Musgrave’s “Forevermore” is a quick read in four acts that will keep your mind razor sharp trying to solve the mystery of Poe’s murder. Pat O’Malley must first find out how to become intimate with females before he can discover the final clue in this puzzle of wits, murder and romance.

Disappearance at Mount Sinai Synopsis:

What if the anti-Semites, racists, and terrorists wanted the final revenge following the Civil War? How do you stop them from committing the worst atrocity?

It’s 1866 in New York City. Civil War Vet and Detective Pat O’Malley’s biggest case returns him to the deep, dark South to search for the kidnapped wealthiest inventor and entrepreneur in America. But the widening gyre of anti-Semitism and racism pulls him down into the pit of hell itself. Disguised as an Oxford England Professor, O’Malley infiltrates the anti-Semites’ group and travels with his partners, Becky Charming and his father, Robert, down to a Collierville, Tennessee mansion.

At the crux of this case are a Jewish father and his five-year-old son, Seth. They have developed a unique bond that relies on Jewish folklore and a belief that they are Mazikeen, half-angel and half-human, born from the loins of Adam’s strange female cohorts during the 130 years he was banished from the Garden. Will O’Malley find Dr. Mergenthaler before it’s too late? What does this world-wide eugenics group have planned for the mongrel races? Read Jim Musgrave’s Disappearance at Mount Sinai, the second mystery in the series of Pat O’Malley Mini-Mysteries.

Jane the Grabber Synopsis:

What was it like before women were given rights to determine their own destinies? How was abortion and birth control used in the 1860s? What happens to a society when the last sexual taboo is permitted? Find out in the third mystery in the Pat O’Malley Historical Steampunk Mystery Series, Jane the Grabber.

Buy Now @ Amazon @ Createspace

Genre – Historical Steampunk Mystery

Rating – PG13

More details about the author

Connect with  Jim Musgrave on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://contempinstruct.com/Forevermore/

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The Pat O’Malley Historical Steampunk Mystery Trilogy by Jim Musgrave

Jim Musgrave

Here are all three suspenseful mysteries in one book!

Forevermore, the first mystery, was a #2 bestseller in Amazon’s Historical Mystery category. It has received outstanding reviews from readers, and it establishes Pat O’Malley as a detective sleuth par excellence. The second mystery, Disappearance at Mount Sinai, continues the development of the characters amidst an excellent caper. The third mystery, Jane the Grabber, plunges O’Malley into the middle of the Steampunk world, and it marks a turning point in the novels to come.

Forevermore Synopsis:

“Musgrave mixes accurate history with a spell-binding plot to create an amazing who-done-it! Watch for more Pat O’Malley Mysteries.”

In post Civil War New York City, Detective Pat O’Malley is living inside Poe’s Cottage in the Bronx. O’Malley is haunted by Poe one night, and the detective finds a strange note. As a result, O’Malley decides to prove that Edgar Allan Poe did not die in Baltimore from an alcoholic binge but was, instead, murdered. O’Malley quickly becomes embroiled in a “cold case” that thrusts him into the lair of one of the most sinister and ruthless killers in 1865 New York City.

Jim Musgrave’s “Forevermore” is a quick read in four acts that will keep your mind razor sharp trying to solve the mystery of Poe’s murder. Pat O’Malley must first find out how to become intimate with females before he can discover the final clue in this puzzle of wits, murder and romance.

Disappearance at Mount Sinai Synopsis:

What if the anti-Semites, racists, and terrorists wanted the final revenge following the Civil War? How do you stop them from committing the worst atrocity?

It’s 1866 in New York City. Civil War Vet and Detective Pat O’Malley’s biggest case returns him to the deep, dark South to search for the kidnapped wealthiest inventor and entrepreneur in America. But the widening gyre of anti-Semitism and racism pulls him down into the pit of hell itself. Disguised as an Oxford England Professor, O’Malley infiltrates the anti-Semites’ group and travels with his partners, Becky Charming and his father, Robert, down to a Collierville, Tennessee mansion.

At the crux of this case are a Jewish father and his five-year-old son, Seth. They have developed a unique bond that relies on Jewish folklore and a belief that they are Mazikeen, half-angel and half-human, born from the loins of Adam’s strange female cohorts during the 130 years he was banished from the Garden. Will O’Malley find Dr. Mergenthaler before it’s too late? What does this world-wide eugenics group have planned for the mongrel races? Read Jim Musgrave’s Disappearance at Mount Sinai, the second mystery in the series of Pat O’Malley Mini-Mysteries.

Jane the Grabber Synopsis:

What was it like before women were given rights to determine their own destinies? How was abortion and birth control used in the 1860s? What happens to a society when the last sexual taboo is permitted? Find out in the third mystery in the Pat O’Malley Historical Steampunk Mystery Series, Jane the Grabber.

Buy Now @ Amazon @ Createspace

Genre – Historical Steampunk Mystery

Rating – PG13

More details about the author

Connect with  Jim Musgrave on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://contempinstruct.com/Forevermore/

$250 Amazon.com gift card giveaway

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After Alex Died by Dakota Madison

“Fine. I expect the two of you to work out whatever problems there are and I don’t want there to be any trouble. Got it?”
Cameron and I both nodded.
“Got it?” Dr. Jones repeated loudly.
“Yes, Dr. Jones,” Cameron and I stated simultaneously. A shiver ran through me when Cameron’s gaze met mine and I felt like I was going to be sick. Some of Cameron’s evil words to my brother echoed through my head. Gay boys like you don’t deserve to live.
      I could feel a bead of sweat run down my face and I quickly swiped it away with the back of my hand. Cameron’s eyes were fixated on the back of my wrist, probably trying to figure out what my tattoo said. After Alex died, I had the back of both of my wrists inked. My left wrist says: Born This Way with Alex’s date of birth. My right wrist says: It Gets Better with the date Alex died. Not only did I want to honor Alex with two of his favorite things, the Lady GaGa song and the organization for gay kids who face harassment, I also felt like I had a permanent reminder of my brother and carried him with me wherever I went. And to be honest, I also knew if I inked my wrists, I would be less likely to cut them when I had the urge to die, which was more often that I wanted to admit. I knew there are many ways to kill myself but at least I eliminated one option. And since I don’t have access to a gun that option is out, too. Survivors of suicide, like me, are a high risk group. Even though we know what it’s like to have a loved one die by suicide many of us still think about doing it ourselves.
As much as I wanted to die sometimes, I still wanted to live more. I often wondered what it took for Alex to tip the scales and finally decide that death was better than life. The night of Homecoming was bad. Really bad. What Cameron and his friends did was unforgiveable. Was it the last straw after weeks of harassment? When did he decide that things might not get better? Or maybe he just couldn’t wait for them to eventually get better? They were all questions I would never get answers to. 
“Are you ready to go back into the classroom?” Dr. Jones’s question brought me back to the present moment.
“Sure,” I lied. I wanted to go back to my dorm room, pull the shades closed, listen to some depressing music and sulk. I had gotten so skilled at sulking, it had become like a hobby. I spent most of my freshman year of college doing it. I was lucky to have a good-looking roommate with loose morals and lots of friends. She spent nearly every night in a room other than the one we shared.
“Remember what I said.” Dr. Jones glanced back and forth between Cameron and I. “I don’t want any trouble.”
Dr. Jones turned on her heels and marched down the hallway toward the classroom. I was surprised how fast she could walk considering her size and the fact she was in three-inch heels. Even Cameron was having difficulty keeping up with her.
All of the other pairs of counselors seemed to be having fun, talking and laughing. When I glanced at Sofia, she was smiling as she touched Antonio’s shoulder. Dr. Jones hadn’t stated explicitly that counselors couldn’t have relationships with each other but it was certainly implied in her speech. The way Sofia and Antonio were interacting with each other, I thought they might hook up even before the end of counselor orientation.
Cameron and I took seats in the back corner of the room facing each other. Cameron was looking down at the laces of his Nike sneakers. We sat in silence for what felt like an hour but when I glanced at the clock on the wall not even a minute had gone by. We still had 20 more minutes until the end of the session and our break. Those 20 minutes were going to feel like 20 years if one of us didn’t say something.
Finally, I cleared my throat and Cameron glanced up at me. His green eyes seemed to hold something I wasn’t expecting: anguish and defeat. I knew those eyes. I had seen them in the mirror staring back at me more times than I could count.
I just couldn’t fathom how those anguished eyes had gotten on Cameron, the star of our high school basketball team, the big man on campus. In high school, he exuded so much confidence he was often perceived as being cocky. How could someone like Cameron possibly feel defeated?
But he looked as broken as I felt.
“So,” I managed to mutter. My throat still felt dry and the words were hard to get out. “We’re supposed to be getting acquainted with each other.”
Cameron nodded but he didn’t offer anything else. He just stared at me. I didn’t know whether he was waiting for me to say something about myself or if I was supposed to ask him a question. I kind of liked it better when he was staring down at his shoelaces.
“Are you still playing basketball?”
He shook his head then turned away. His eyes were moist and it looked like he was blinking back tears. He swallowed then cleared his throat.
I waited to see if he would say anything else but he didn’t elaborate. My head was spinning out of control. It was bad enough to be sitting across from Cameron Connelly, one of the three people in the world I absolutely despised. But to be sitting across from Cameron and seeing him be a person I didn’t even recognize was completely blowing my mind. I needed someone to hate. Someone to be a target for all of my rage. And the cocky jocks, Cameron and his friends, had always fit the bill.
“So you didn’t go to Penn State?” I remembered hearing that he had gotten a full basketball scholarship. It had been all over the local news.
Cameron shook his head again. The conversation was so one-sided it was in danger of toppling over but it didn’t seem like Cameron was going to participate any more than absolutely necessary.
“I just finished my freshman year here.” I thought maybe talking about me instead of him might elicit more of a response.
“I know.”
How in the world did he know that? How did he know anything about me? Or even care?
“My mom moved out of town. She sold the house and got a condo close to The Shore.” I’m not sure why I mentioned that. I guess it was still bothering me and I really didn’t have anyone to talk to about it.

After Alex Died
This NEW ADULT ROMANCE contains MATURE LANGUAGE and SUBJECT MATTER and is intended for readers ages 17+.
“Don’t be someone who defines her life by someone else’s death.”
Dee Dee DeMarco’s brother, Alex, was funny, free-spirited and creative. He was also gay. Tormented by bullies, Alex killed himself on his 15th birthday.
Two years later, and now in college, Dee Dee believes getting a summer job working with a college-prep program for disadvantaged high school students is a stroke of luck, until she discovers that the guy assigned to co-lead her group is Cameron Connelly, a star basketball player and one of the bullies who tormented her brother to death. How can Dee Dee possibly spend the entire summer working so closely with one of the boys she blames for her brother’s death?
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I think this is a little story with a lot of heart. I hope you think so, too!
Buy Now @ Amazon @ Smashwords
Genre - Contemporary/New Adult Romance
Rating – R
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Christmas for Juliet by Elyse Douglas @douglaselyse

Posted on Thursday, October 24, 2013

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After Juliet Sinclair divorces her unfaithful husband, she expects to pick up the pieces of her life and move on. When Juliet sees her much-loved father waving to her on a New York City street, she’s astonished. Her father and mother live in Ohio. At that same moment, she receives a call from her mother telling her that her father has died from a heart attack.

Juliet quits her job and moves back to Ohio, determined to investigate a substantial loss of money, and find a mysterious woman who had close ties with her father, Juliet’s mother knew nothing about.

While on her journey, Juliet has a serious accident and is saved from near death by a handsome ex-soldier with a tragic past. He falls in love with her, even though his past still haunts him. Christmas is approaching, and Juliet works to uncover her father’s secrets while falling in love, struggling to find the courage to forgive and to love again.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Romance

Rating – PG

More details about the author

Connect with  Elyse Douglas on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.elysedouglas.com/

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#Free–Penalty Clause by Lori Ryan @loriryanauthor

Penalty Clause by Lori Ryan

Amazon Kindle US

Genre – Romantic Suspense

Rating – R

4.5 (42 reviews)

Free until 24 October 2013

To keep her, he'll have to gamble it all!
Andrew Weston and Jill Walsh had to be the two most unlikely people to fall in love. When Jill's first husband's love for her simply fizzled and died, Jill knew she'd never trust that love could last again. After Andrew's first love betrayed him in the most brutal way possible, he knew he might fall in love again someday, but there was no way he'd ever make himself vulnerable again by confessing those feelings if he did.
Fate had a different ending in mind for these two, though, and when Andrew discovers his love for Jill, he knows the only way to get her to stay with him forever is to offer her an iron clad penalty clause in a prenuptial agreement. He stays with her forever or he loses everything he owns. The millions he's worked for, his property, his cars, everything. Now he just needs to hope that's enough to hold onto Jill forever.

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Rachel Thompson – 10 Things I Wish I Knew

10 Things I Wish I Knew About Being an Author I Didn’t Know Before

by Rachel Thompson

When I first started writing my author blog (about four and a half years ago), I had NO idea the extent of marketing I would have to do once I published my first book.

Now that I’m three books in (all bestsellers), I’ve developed a system that works for me. It’s not brain surgery, it’s not impossible, but it is hard work.

And it all starts with having an author platform.

Lots of people have written about author platforms; but back then, I had no comprehension of what that meant (and while I have a fairly extensive sales and marketing background, publishing was all new to me).
So what is an author platform and how can knowing this help you? I’m drawing on my own experiences, what I’ve read and learned, as well as the business clients who do what I recommend.

Let’s deconstruct.

The primary components of any platform include:

  • Social Media
  • Website
  • Blog
  • Ads
  • Digital copy.

I’ll break down each one with an additional tip on how I do things.

  1. Social Media: Everyone knows you have to be on (at the very least), Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads. That’s kind of a given. What people don’t tell you is that you need a Facebook page, separate from your personal Facebook account (however you can manage it from there). Why? Facebook personal accounts (where you ‘friend’ people) were not created for selling. Also, they limit you to 5,000 friends, which sounds like a lot, but once you get more well-known? Not so much.
  2. Success: For the best chance at success, be sure to not go into social media thinking, ‘Hey this is awesome! I’m just gonna link to my own books all the time, in every share, message, and tweet!’ Not only will people unfollow/unfriend you, it’s also extremely counterproductive to doing any actual selling. Tip: Use keywords that connect to your subject/genre. Glean articles from the Net and share those. RT/share others. Be generous in supporting people. Add visual formats like YouTube, Instagram, and Pinterest. And above all else, have a presence on G+. Google owns it. Google is the largest search engine in the world. You do the math.
  3. Website: I had NO idea until I finally convinced myself to switch from blogger to WordPress.org that my SEO/SMO was in the tank. Why does this matter? Paying someone (not a lot) to optimize my site (and then coaching me on how to do it) has made a huge difference in my Google ranking and Alexa.com score. What does that mean? I’m more visible, more exposed (in a good way!), and I’ve made it easier for people to find me.
  4. Optimization: It’s okay if you don’t understand what it means. Hire someone who does. I truly had no clue how important it was to optimize my site or what all was involved. I’m grateful to @SugarBeatBC for her knowledge and patient help.
  5. Blog: A natural extension of any author is your blog. Again, use your keywords to come up with subjects or a theme to your writing, and update your blog at least once per week. Google’s algorithms look at how fresh your content is. If you don’t post often, your ranking goes down. Boo.
  6. Topics: Confused on what to blog about? Find blogs you really like, and see what their focus is. Write about what you know. Share excerpts from your book(s). Have guests (remember, be generous?). Tip: post on the weekend for more comments, during the week for more shares (Source: Dan Zarrella).
  7. Ads: Many authors don’t want to tangle with the beast that is Google AdWords. I didn’t either! I tried to learn many times but looking at cost per keyword makes me think of algebra class and hey, writer here. Math is NOT my forte. So I make my husband do it. Ha! (In fact, he’s become so proficient at doing AdWords, he hung up his shingle at The AdWords Guy, and helps other authors learn, or manages their campaigns for them.)
  8. Keywords: Yes, again. Even if you don’t get how AdWords works, at least you can use their Keyword Tool to run your words through (ie, I use relationships, grief, loss, love, romance, etc.). It’s free and fairly easy to use.
  9. eBook or Digital Copy: Is it really necessary to have an eBook version of your book? In a word: duh. Of course it is! Report vary, but anywhere from 50-70% of all books purchased over the last year were in eBook format; of those, 50% were purchased from Amazon.

(People are still somewhat confused about this. You CAN purchase eBooks from Amazon without a Kindle. All you need to do is download their free apps for smartphone, computer, tablet, or cloud. It’s SO easy! Even Nook readers can read Amazon books (not on their Nook of course. Barnes and Noble isn’t stupid.), but from the free apps.)

10) Embrace Technology: No matter what your personal opinions are about eBooks, digital content is our future – right now. As baby boomers age, purchases made from home have skyrocketed. Younger people have become used to the instant gratification from gaming and social media, which makes eBooks perfect for your younger demographic.

Okay, that’s it! Almost every single one of these points I learned during the process of publishing or after. I hope they help you to be successful but remember, first and foremost, write a terrific book first!

Check out my books on Amazon: A Walk In The Snark, Mancode: Exposed, and my latest, Broken Pieces. Find me on Twitter at @RachelintheOC or my business @BadRedheadMedia. Look up the same names on G+, Facebook, Pinterest, etc. I’m everywhere!

PRAISE FOR BROKEN PIECES:

‘So ridiculously amazing, I can’t take it’ ~ Gabe Berman, Author ‘Live LIke A Fruit Fly

‘Engrossed. It is a grippingly brilliant work’ ~ Frank Feather, author and blogger

‘Any woman who has had a former lover (or two or three) will be able to relate to this. Her writing is very poetic.’ ~ LS Hullinger, reader, writer

‘A brilliant and intense must read’ ~ Jeffery Rowan, reader

Out less than three weeks, Broken Pieces already hit the Paid Top 10 list on Women’s Studies!

Welcome to bestselling author Rachel Thompson’s newest nonfiction work! Vastly different in tone from her previous essay collections A Walk In The Snark and The Mancode: Exposed, BROKEN PIECES is a collection of pieces inspired by one woman’s life: love, loss, abuse, trust, grief, and ultimately, love again.

This is NOT a humor book! It IS a book about relationships, a study of women, a book with heart.Want to see why people love it? Why they call it ‘riveting, powerful, insightful?’

Read it and see why Broken Pieces is tearing up the lists for Nonfiction, Women’s Studies, and books for women!

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – NonFiction

Rating – PG13

More details about the author

Connect with Rachel Thompson on Twitter & Facebook

***See why A Walk In The Snark won Best Runner-up 2012 Nonfiction Virtual Book Fair Indie Book Awards!***

**See Thompson’s first book and decide for yourself if you love it — or hate it!

Thank YOU for making A Walk In The Snark a #1 Bestseller on multiple charts including Motherhood, Parenting & Family, Family Relationships, Advice/How-To, Women’s Studies and more! AND a Top 100 Overall Paid bestseller!

Be forewarned — the material in this collection has been called controversial in nature. It is a relationship book based on the author’s popular blog. There are recurrent themes regarding men and women, love and loss, romance and parenting. This is intentional. 

It’s not ALL humor, but it IS all honest. Can you handle the snark?

Sometimes I think I’m too jaded. Then I think no, it’s just the lighting.

Praise for A Walk In The Snark – now a #1 Bestseller!
5 of 5 stars!

The commonalities we all share is what makes this book spark to life. - Tony Eldridge, Author, The Samson Effect

Thank you for making the lives of women and men more intelligible, Rachel, and for making us laugh at ourselves! - Berit Ellingsen, Author, The Empty City

Rachel believes “Men are from Seinfeld, Women are from Friends,” and so do her legions of fans. She dares to ask “Why do men want to change the world, but can’t change a roll of toilet paper?” Are you offended easily? Take satire literally? Don’t buy this book. 

See why everyone is buying this book! Mancode, Chickspeak, and much, much more!  See why critics love it! 

More praise:

5/5 Stars:  Crisp, cutting, and caffeinated. A gem of a read. ~Rebecca Tsaros Dickson, Author, I Could Tell You Stories; Editor-In-Chief, Indie Ink

The author’s wicked sense of humor sprinkles every day stories of relationship angst with spicy hot pepper with keeping it real adventure. ~Bonnie Jean Adams, Chicago Culture And Events Examiner

Want to know why this book reached #1 on the Kindle Motherhood list (and Parenting & Families, and Women’s Studies and…) and is still a mainstay months and months later?

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Humor / NonFiction

Rating – PG13

More details about the author

Connect with Rachel Thompson on Twitter & Facebook

***You will either LOVE this controversial book or you will HATE it. If you have no sense of humor, DO NOT BUY IT.***

  • ‘I’m over forty. I don’t have a blankie. I have vodka.’
  • Note: this is not a book of advice, how-to, or self-help. The author deconstructs stereotypes with satire. Totally different concept.
  • ‘I write about men, women, sex, & chocolate. My experiences, my truth, my martinis.’
  • *Note: Thompson employs hashtags (i.e., the # sign) in her collection. Google it. These are not typos, people #deargod.
  • Looking for a humorous take on family relationships or love and romance? Look no further.
  • Praise for The Mancode: Exposed – already a #1 bestseller in Marriage, Parenting & Families AND Parenting & Relationships!

–As a long time warrior in the Battle of the Sexes, I would’ve won a lot more skirmishes had I had a copy of Mancode in my saddle. Reaching back toward my shotgun, I would’ve found this collection. Instead of shooting the man, I could’ve said, “Stop acting like a man!” Buy Mancode and stop wasting bullets. ~ Beth Wareham, author Power of No

–Finally! A woman who gets what I’m going through every day, from that whole spitting thing to my deep abiding love for chocolate. Well done! ~ Amber Scott, author of #1 Kindle bestsellers IRISH MOON, FIERCE DAWN, WANTED

–Mancode: Exposed is a scathingly funny, rapid fire and heartfelt look at men. Author Rachel Thompson delivers a satirical piece that invokes strong shades of Penny Marshall and Seth McFarlane. ~ Casey Ryan, Host & Creator, Cutting Room Floor radio program

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Humor / NonFiction

Rating – PG13

More details about the author

Connect with Rachel Thompson on Twitter & Facebook

More details about the author

Connect with Rachel Thompson on Twitter & Facebook

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Author Interview – Merry Farmer @MerryFarmer20

Posted on Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Why did you choose to write this particular book?  I wrote Our Little Secrets because it’s the kind of book that I would love to read.  I tend to love stories where something brings the hero and heroine together from the beginning and in which they have to tackle some sort of obstacle together while that obstacle is trying to break them apart.  I’ve also always loved the old west.

Will you write others in this same genre?  Well, Our Little Secrets is part of a series, the Montana Romance series.  I’ve already published the second book in the series, Fool for Love, which is Eric Quinlan’s story.  I intend to write a novel for each of the four friends, Michael, Eric, Christian, and Phin.  And yes, Phin’s novel will be an m/m romance which is part of a mainstream series.  Not sure if anyone has done that before or if I’ll draw a lot of ire by doing it.  I’m also about to publish a novella, Sarah Sunshine, that takes place in this same world, and there may be more novellas about Cold Springs, Montana where that came from.  As for more western series, well, I do have one idea, but the next series I intend to tackle takes place on the high seas circa 1800.

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?  Sometimes you just have to let the past go, dark though it may be, and focus on what’s in front of you.

Have you included a lot of your life experiences, even friends, in the plot?  In a way, yes.  I know how it feels to want to disassociate yourself from your past (although my past is more on the sad side than the bad side).  And I do have several characters in the series who are based on people I know in real life.  But I’m not exactly sure I want to say who and how since they might find out!

How important do you think villains are in a story?  They’re essential!  You need to have an antagonist of some sort to provide the obstacles that get in the way of your protagonist achieving their goals.  Aside from that, they can be great fun!

What are your goals as a writer?  My goal as a writer is simple.  I want to do whatever it takes to enable me to continue writing as much as possible for as long as possible.  That means selling enough to be able to make a living off of my writing so that I don’t have to work a day job and can, therefore, spend more time writing.  I’d also like to travel to different conferences teaching workshops about writing and self-publishing.

Do you have to travel much concerning your book(s)?  I haven’t had to travel so far, but I would LOVE to do a lot more traveling in the future.  In particular, I’d like to live in England for a year.  And Australia.  And Canada.

What books have most influenced your life?  I guess I would have to say all of the piles and piles of historical romance novels I read when I was in high school.  It was a revelation to find out that there was, in fact, an entire genre of the kind of books I wanted to read and write already established.

Who is your favorite author and why?  Overall, definitely J.K. Rowling.  Not only are the Harry Potter books awesome (and The Casual Vacancy is actually awesome too, although she should have published it under a different name for people to give it a fair reading), but the story of how she got where she is and what she’s done with her fame and fortune since earning it are so inspiring.  I doubt I’ll ever achieve that level of stardom, but if I do I would like to give back the way Rowling has.

Buy Now @ Amazon & Smashwords

Genre – Western Historical Romance

Rating – R

More details about the author & the book

Connect with Merry Farmer on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://merryfarmer.net/