Saturday, November 2, 2013

Author Interview – James Shipman @jshipman_author

Image of James Shipman
How do you feel about social media websites such as Facebook and Twitter? Are they a good thing?
I think they are a good thing although there are some ugly consequences.  I think these sights have given a voice to the average person in the world.
If you could do any job in the world what would you do?
Attorney and writer . . . oh wait.
What are you most passionate about? What gets you fired up?
Injustice, particularly the plight of the poor and defenseless in the world. The imbalance of power and resources in the world is shameful beyond measure.
Are you a city slicker or a country lover?
I’m a small town lover.  Snohomish, Washington for the win!
What would you love to produce in your life?
I have a seven book series set during World War Two planned that I am very excited about.  I’m not providing details yet but I will begin writing the first book in the fall of 2014, after I finish my civil war novel, “Going Home.”
http://www.orangeberrybooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/Constantinopolis.jpg
In 1453 Constantinople is the impregnable jewel of the East. It has stood as the greatest Christian city for a millennium as hordes have crashed fruitlessly against its walls.
But Mehmet II, the youthful Sultan of the Ottoman Turks, has besieged the city. His opponent is Constantine XI, the wise and capable ruler of the crumbling Eastern Roman Empire. Mehmet, distrusted by his people and hated by his Grand Vizer, must accomplish what all those before him have failed to do: capture Constantinople. To prove that he deserves the throne that his father once took from him, Mehmet, against all advice, storms the city. If he fails, he will not only have failed himself and his people, but he will surely lose his life.
On the other side of the city walls, the emperor Constantine must find a way to stop the greatest army in the medieval world. To finance his defenses, he becomes a beggar to the Pope, the Italian city-states, and the Hungarians. But the price for aid is high: The Pope demands the Greeks reunite the Eastern and Western churches and accept the Latin faith. If Constantine wants aid for his people he must choose between their lives and their souls.
Two leaders, two peoples, two faiths battle for their future before the mighty walls of Constantinople.
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Historical Fiction
Rating – PG
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Author Interview – Carla Woody @CarlaWoody1

Image of Carla Woody

What do you hope people will take away from your writing? How will your words make them feel?

Since the majority of what I write has to do with the Hero’s Journey, as mythologist Joseph Campbell so beautifully relayed in his work, my intent for readers is they recognize the Hero in themselves. We’re all on this evolutionary journey to different degrees. Ultimately, I hold that readers find inspiration, and more so, ways through tricky places, perhaps by identifying with my fictional characters or the examples from real people in my nonfiction books.

How do you come up with an idea for a new book?

The ideas present themselves. It may be something I want to explore myself, or a point I want to get across. When a central theme keeps showing up in my own life or that of my clients, then I begin to write about it.

Are you traditionally published or self-published? Why did you choose that path?

I’ve published articles through professional journals and magazine since the early 1990s. When it came to my books, I specifically chose to self-publish through Kenosis Press, my own small press, for these important reasons: 1) they never go out of print; 2) the publishing process is truncated; 3) I have control over the content. Since my books are vehicles for my work, I continue to feel this is important.

How do you work through self-doubts and fear?

I’ve gone through quite a process in the last 25 years. I felt like I was on a high-speed train going through one station after another, dropping things off and picking up others along the way until I realigned my life for a right fit.

This is what I’ve noticed. When I’m ready to go through a threshold—the next evolution—the residue of whatever fears may still be present becomes strongest, They can present themselves through critical internal voices, body stresses, or even dreams. I know that any of these are just internal signals that I’m moving out of what has been familiar. I’ve seen this to be true for virtually anyone.  I do some objective exploring to see if there’s any validity to the messages. If so, I fine-tune but move forward if it’s a direction that’s beneficial. I tell my mentoring clients that it’s actually a marker of progress! Intent will prevail and the fears lessen over time as you get used to the (now) familiar.

What are you most proud of in your personal life?

About 20 years ago, I moved out of a life prescribed for me by societal expectations into a lifestyle that truly enlivens me, the work I’m doing now. I was essentially working in corporate environments that didn’t support creativity, or much out-of-the-box thinking at all. In most areas of my life I was “settling.” My energy was slowly being depleted, which happens when an environment is an ill fit. My need to thrive overcame fears and I left the “secure” cocoon, albeit a stifling one. I made a leap of faith. At one level, it took a lot of courage. But my core intent was strong. Now I guide others on how to live through their deeply held values.

What books did you love growing up?

My mother read to me a lot as a young child. I remember lying with my head in her lap and listening to stories: Huckleberry Finn, Tom Sawyer, a series called Mother West Wind’s Neighbors and many more. It was comforting and probably why I’ve always loved books. Jane Eyre was a favorite when I hit adolescence.

StandingStark

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Genre – Nonfiction, Spirituality

Rating – PG

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Friday, November 1, 2013

Family Drama 3-in-1 Box Set by Jessica Bell @MsBessieBell

JessicaBell
STRING BRIDGE:
Rewind.
Melody loves to play guitar. She almost becomes a rock star. But then she falls in love with Alex and gives birth to her daughter, Tessa.
Fast forward.
Melody loves her daughter and her husband, the music promoter. Her guitar sits dusty in the corner of her bedroom.
Skip.
Melody can't bear it any longer and plots a return to the stage, and the person she used to be. But the obstacles she faces along the way--are nothing--compared to the tragedy that awaits.
Pause.
Her desire to have an affair? Well, Button Boy is quite charming ...
THE BOOK:
This book is not The Book. The Book is in this book. And The Book in this book is both the goodie and the baddie.
Bonnie is five. She wants to bury The Book because it is a demon that should go to hell. Penny, Bonnie’s mother, does bury The Book, but every day she digs it up and writes in it. John, Bonnie’s father, doesn’t live with them anymore. But he still likes to write in it from time to time. Ted, Bonnie’s stepfather, would like to write in The Book, but Penny won’t allow it.
To Bonnie, The Book is sadness.
To Penny, The Book is liberation.
To John, The Book is forgiveness.
To Ted, The Book is envy.
But The Book in this book isn’t what it seems at all.
If there was one thing in this world you wished you could hold in your hand, what would it be? The world bets it would be The Book.
BITTER LIKE ORANGE PEEL:
Six women. One man. Seven secrets. One could ruin them all.
Kit is a twenty-five-year-old archaeology undergrad, who doesn’t like to get her hands dirty. Life seems purposeless. But if she could track down her father, Roger, maybe her perspective would change.
The only problem—Roger is as rotten as the decomposing oranges in her back yard according to the women in her life: Ailish, her mother—an English literature professor who communicates in quotes and clichés, and who still hasn’t learned how to express emotion on her face; Ivy, her half-sister—a depressed archaeologist, with a slight case of nymphomania who fled to America after a divorce to become a waitress; and Eleanor, Ivy’s mother—a pediatric surgeon who embellishes her feelings with medical jargon, and named her daughter after "Intravenous."
Against all three women’s wishes, Kit decides to find Roger.
Enter a sister Kit never knew about.
But everyone else did.
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Genre - Contemporary Women's Fiction
Rating – PG-13
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#Free – The Mummifier’s Daughter by Nathaniel Burns @burns_writer

The Mummifier’s Daughter by Nathaniel Burns
Genre – Historical Fiction
Rating - G
3.6 (63 reviews)
Free until 5th November 2013
Ancient Egypt, 1233 BC
This is Young Neti-Kerty‘s dream: To follow in her father’s footsteps and become the first femalemummifier in Thebes.
Shabaka, the secretive Prefect, the Pharaoh’s special envoy charged with
combating crime in the capital of the Pharaoh’s empire, also often makes use of Neti Kerty’s special talents. With her powers of
deduction and knowledge of the dead, she has already helped solve many crimes.
But then the unimaginable happens. Her parents are cruelly murdered, and Neti-Kerty’s small, idyllic world shatters. Together
with Shabaka the Prefect, she embarks on the search for her parents‘ murderer. Surviving
many shared adventures, they stumble upon a monstrous conspiracy...
The Mummifier's Daughter carries us back to a land steeped in gods, god-kings, ritual and magic. It paints for the reader a
detailed picture of Pharaonic Egypt in all its shadowed glory. Faithfully recreating one of
the most remarkable eras in Egypt’s history, bestselling author Nathaniel Burns weaves a shudderingly ominous tale of ancient
Egypt’s mysteries with a cast of characters the modern reader will recognize even
though millenia have passed.
So light up the incense, sit close to the light and draw back the curtains on the shadowed past with this
gripping tale of
love and intrigue among the living and the dead in one of history’s most intriguing civilizations.

Thursday, October 31, 2013

How To Market Yourself to Radio Hosts/Shows – Tami Urbanek @tamiurbanek

How To Market Yourself to Radio Hosts/Shows

Many radio shows receive multiple requests from potential guests, most of which are authors. How do you stand out from all the others in order to receive a reply? As a radio host, there are certain things I can’t stand and some things I really like to see in an email request.

When I receive an email, I look to see if the person spelled my name correctly and if they bothered to write the name of my radio show in the email. This tells me if they’re really interested or just hitting up each and every show, desperate to get an interview to make a book sale. I’m interested in people who have a story to tell and I want guests who want to share their story because they believe in themselves.

If the potential guest has listened to some of my shows and states so in the email request, I am much more likely to consider that guest. Also, listening numbers fluctuate, so when I’m selecting a guest, I take their book topic into account. Will it attract listeners and/or can the guest bring in other things to add value to the interview that makes it valuable to the listeners to tune into? These are questions I would prefer answered in the initial email. What do you have to offer?

When sending an email request, it needs to be organized and easy to read. A couple of times, I’ve been sent emails that have little to no information and/or the font is all over the place. I delete those. If a person emails me requesting to be on my show and all the person writes is, “I’d be a great guest, click on my website link for more information,” I probably won’t bother. I’ll move on to the next request. The same goes for emails that contain TOO MUCH information. Just give me what I need, don’t write on and on about how great you are or how great your book is.

Follow up with another email. Sometimes an email slips through, goes to spam, or the host forgot to reply. There’s nothing wrong with following up. Also, adding a free copy of your book, a bio, and prepared questions for the host to ask in an interview are appreciated.

If you want to be a radio guest, make it a priority to send out requests on a regular basis and be consistent. Also be willing to promote the interview to your own contact list and social media sites.

LovingConor

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Genre - Memoir

Rating – PG-13

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Quality Reads UK Book Club Disclosure: Author interview / guest post has been submitted by the author and previously used on other sites.

Jack Canon’s American Destiny (Excerpt) by Greg Sandora @gregsandora

“That would be funny, the Wicked Witch of the West. You
can print that she definitely doesn’t have a crush. But anything else,
you wait until you get the okay from me.”
“Jack, why would you make me wait, you could capitalize on
a story like this while you’re in Maine.”
“Lexi, Maine is like my backyard. We have a home up there. I
want to win the state so big. When you do report what I’ll give you,
this race will be all over.”
“You know I want it, Jack, just let me know the minute I can
use it.”
“I’ll tell you now; it will be the day after we win Maine. Our
buses are on their way right now, and will be joined by a third when
they get there.”
“Why are you adding another bus?”
“One will be for staffers and the most favorable press, and the
rear bus will be for other press. Bud and the gang will be up front
with me.”
“Speaking of buses Jack I got quite the ribbing from the press
core about the two hours I spent interviewing with you up front.”
“Why it was all innocent enough?”
“Jack it was because of that Daphne chick you have working
with the press. She stood right at the door to your bus after I went in
and told everyone, ‘The senator is not to be disturbed.’”
I belly laughed and Lexi joined in, “You’ll have to get used to
that, Miss Exclusive. I’ve heard the rumors. They’re just pissed at you
because Daphne’s job is to keep the interviews to fifteen minutes.”
In fact, Daphne and I had a code worked out. She comes back
and says the next appointment is ready. If I object, she insists we keep
things moving so we can get to everyone, she knows to get rid of
whomever I’m with.
Honestly, we could give a crap about getting to anyone; we
only feed the good press. If I say nothing then she waits another five
minutes and it goes like that until I object.
“Lexi her standing orders are - when you’re on the bus – no
other press - everyone clears out.”
“That’s why everyone’s pissed off at me. Who is Daphne
anyway? She is sooo intimidating. All the women hate her and the
guys are going gaga and can’t stop talking about her. It’s like we’re
all in Junior High again. She has a knack for making people feel like
crap just walking up to her.”
“Not you Lexi.”
“Really Jack? Do you want to know what it feels like for me
approaching her?”
“I can’t believe you would even care Lexi.”
“Jack it freaking feels like everyone has a copy of the latest
Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition and is comparing me to it. Seeing
her gets everyone off their game. The men—even some of the big
time guys are tongue-tied talking to her—it’s sort of funny. On the
bus, behind her back it’s like a locker room, the testosterone and male
bravado, but when they get face to face with her, they melt.”
“How would you know what it’s like in a locker room?” I
teased.
“You never told me who she is, and I didn’t really want to
bring her up when I was with you in Florida. Is she a model, an
actress?”
I wouldn’t have gotten away with it face to face, but over the
phone, she...

Buy Now @ Amazon & Smashwords

Genre – Political Thriller

Rating – PG

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Website http://www.gregsandora.com/

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

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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Website http://james-shipman.com

Nobody Has to Know by Frank Nappi @FrankNappi

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

Monday, October 28, 2013

In Love With My Best Friend by Sheena Binkley

1

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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Website http://sheenabinkley.wordpress.com/

LETTERS – Ava Zavora @avazavora

LETTERS

by: Ava Zavora

In Dear Adam, book blogger Eden enters a passionate online relationship with Adam, a mysterious Englishman. Although they eventually talk over the phone, their communication begins with tweets, then progresses to e-mails, chats, and texts, the modern reincarnations of the old-fashioned love letter. Because they communicate this way, Dear Adam can be characterized as an epistolary novel (one written in the form of a series of letters). In fact, a letter written by one of the characters falls in the wrong hands and initiates a heart-racing plot twist.

So, you can say that I’m a sucker for letters. I love writing them, I love receiving them.

When I was in middle school, I and my best friend at the time used to send each other elaborate letters. We would pretend to be Victorian ladies called Lady Daisy and Lady Avalon, and invite each other out to tea in archaic language and seal the envelopes with wax. If you guessed that I was a full on nerd and never got asked out … well, you would be right.

My notion of true love was shaped by historical romance novels. With this thoroughly realistic view, I told my first boyfriend that he had to write me letters so he obliged me despite being grammatically challenged. He gave me poetic declarations of undying love scrawled on college-ruled binder paper. Later, I learned his brother had written them for him.

I’m of a mind that one well-written letter can win a heart or mend a broken one.

What do you think? Have you ever received a letter (or its modern equivalent, an e-mail) so compelling that you fell in love with the sender?

DearAdam

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Genre - Contemporary Romance

Rating – PG-13

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Sunday, October 27, 2013

Finding Your Voice – Christoph Paul @ChristophPaul_

Finding Your Voice
I think the whole idea of voice is a bunch of MFA-mumbo jumbo. I am going to paraphrase and agree with the writer Anis Shivani and say it is all about style and that the ‘voice’ is something a singer needs to work on not a writer.
A writer, through trial and error figures out what style suits them best. Moshin Hamid (who you philistines need to be reading–he wrote the best book of 2013) uses second person and it serves him well. It is his style. Could he write third or first person? Yes, he is pretty talented but second person is the style that serves him and his stories best.
Myself, my favorite style is first person, that is my comfort zone but for my latest book “Great White House” I had to write in third person. Stylistically it was tough. In first person I can be clever, I can be loose I can let my character do some of the heavy lifting to move the story, but when writing in third person I’m serving a story and a multitude of characters. I have to get out the way; I can’t use wit or anything else in third person, I just have to serve the story. I use a simple prose style that puts the story front and center.
There are different types of styles, I will go back to the dead white guys club to show the two different styles: Hemingway and Faulkner. Now, I will say you really have to have your craft right to do Faulkner who writes long stream of consciousness of sentences. I also think of Proust. Some people can do that but for me I just don’t have the talent for that stylish ability. I fall under the minimalist style like Hemingway when writing in third person.
If I feel the concept/premise is the strongest and it has multiple characters, whether I want to or not I need to write in third person. I go with the philosophy: get the hell out of the way and write simply and clearly (I don’t use adverbs, but in blogging, no big deal.) That is my ‘voice’ so to speak. I’m not going to impress you with my poetic language, but I can tell a tight story and use ‘dialogue’ a strength of mine to move and serve the story.
Eventually, it would good to be in place where you have mastered all styles, where you just have one big literary tool box at your disposal and can pick what best serves the story you want to tell, but until then it is best to stick to your strengths.
I have a literary novel in the well that needs third person poetic language; I’ll tell that story one day when I’m a better writer and have more comfort in that style. Until then, I will keep it short and sweet.

Great White House NEW COVER
Great White Sharks Attack the White House!
The Federal Government is behind on its loans and Chinese President Xi Jinping wants his money. Having brought members of the China Task Force together in the White House for a meeting, Jinping, with the help of weather control and PETA, unleashes genetically modified great white sharks in an effort to force President Obama and the C.T.F. to make the tough decisions on how to meet the dear communist’s commands.
Can the C.T.F. escape the wrath of Red China and the great white killers, or will Obama be forced to disband the government and bring the country to brink of anarchy?
Paul and Thomas (the writers of G.W.H., not a folk group) have weaved a wicked tale of governments run amuck in this “grindhouse” novella. With elements of “South Park” meets “Sharknado” meets “Olympus has Fallen” meets “White House Down” meets other movies/TV shows featuring charismatic black presidents, G.W.H. illustrates just how far politicians can be pushed as they work to survive the horror of the ocean’s greatest murderers. America has bills to pay and China’s “loan sharks” are ready to collect that debt in blood.
These sharks don’t see Red or Blue—they are equal opportunity eaters.
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Genre – Fiction, Humor
Rating – PG-13
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Birth of an Assassin by Rik Stone @stone_rik

Adrik waited in the guard’s room a couple of corridors along from Kornfeld’s cell. There was only one way out, so the Jew had to pass this room. He spun a Makarov on his finger, aimed at imaginary targets and thrilled at the thought of using it. The gun was standard issue, but he would’ve chosen it anyway. Totally reliable, pull the trigger and out pop the bullets. The blowback design expels the spent case to the right and loads the next cartridge into the chamber – easy. And fully armed with eight rounds, he would use them all.

This wouldn’t be his first killing and sure as hell wouldn’t be his last. Kornfeld was a pain, and it was Otto who mattered. He would do anything for him. Why should he care about some Jew who got in the way?

But time dragged, and Kornfeld hadn’t yet made a show. For one horrible minute he thought there might be another way out – but no, that isn’t even possible. Calm down, be patient... Try as he might, he couldn’t, and the idea ran around his head, irritating him beyond measure.

He left the guardroom and paced the corridor outside. At first a short distance and then a bit further into the next passageway. No good – he had to find out what had happened. With gun in hand and footsteps stealthy he reached the cell door – it was slightly open. Oh shit, did that mean there was another way out? Or maybe Kornfeld had gone deeper into the prison block. Or maybe he was in the cell hoping the element of surprise would be with him.

Possibilities ganged up. Kornfeld knew Lubyanka well. What if there was another way out and that little bastard knew it? If so, Otto would kill him, never mind the Jew. He kicked the door fully open, slammed it against the cell wall, stood back and then moved in, pointing the gun around to make sure Kornfeld wasn’t hidden on either side of the opening. The cell was dimly lit and he found it difficult to see. He would stay put until his eyes got accustomed to the light. A body, he saw a body. It was covered with a greatcoat, on the bunk facing the wall.

He was clearly supposed to think it was Kornfeld. In that case he’d be under the bunk waiting... But then that’s obvious too, so he might be on top with the guard pushed underneath. That made more sense – it would be easier for him to make an attack from on top – but, shit, wouldn’t that be what he wanted him to think?

To be sure of the kill, Adrik wanted to shoot above and below – but he couldn’t. How would he explain the soldier’s death? Oh, Otto, if only Otto was there to tell him what to do. But he wasn’t, he had to make up his own mind. The Jew was on top – yes, definitely on top.

Cautiously, he edged forward, pointed the pistol to the back of the person’s head and pulled the body towards him with gun steady and ready to fire. As quickly as his huge form allowed, he pulled the greatcoat away.

Fuck! The guard! No time to react. A leg came from under the bunk with incredible speed and wrapped around the back of his. At the same time, the Jew’s other foot came against his knees and pushed. Adrik had brought his legs together when he tore the coat away and Kornfeld used the imbalance to his advantage. Adrik’s arms went out. He hovered awkwardly, then almost regained control, but Kornfeld pushed harder and Adrik went flying backwards with his legs in the air. A sense of suspension ended and he fell heavily, striking the hard stone floor. His head bounced, shudders chased through his brain and he found himself staring at the ceiling, wavering between conscious and unconscious.

The pain pierced his skull and he noticed his head had rested in a pool of warm liquid. He hadn’t seen that when he came in. Numbness consumed his body; he couldn’t move. But then his blurred vision saw the bleary outline of the Jew. Awareness came that his body was being rolled over. He was paralyzed, but it didn’t stop the surge of fear that ran through every fibre of his being.

Birth of an Assassin

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Genre – Thriller, Crime, Suspense

Rating – R

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

The Color Pink by Parker Paige

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