Tuesday, January 16, 2018

The Ripper - Mystery and Detective Police Procedural #Mystery #Detective #PoliceProcedural

This looks like an interesting book.

If you love mysteries and police procedurals you'll want to give it a try.

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FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Police Procedural
Published Date: November 19th 2017

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One hundred twenty-five years to the day after Jack the Ripper committed his first gruesome murder, a young woman is killed in a picturesque Spanish town. As if the eerie timing isn’t enough to unnerve Commissioner Carrillo, the murderer has mimicked the Ripper’s grisly method almost exactly.

Soon more women are murdered and their bodies horrifically mutilated. Tips and accusations fly wildly, sending the commissioner and his fellow officers chasing after suspects who might be innocent. Adding to the confusion, the killer is creating his own trail, carving mysterious signs on the bodies of his victims and texting the commissioner puzzling messages.

When the murderer reveals who his fifth victim will be, Commissioner Carrillo’s blood runs cold—he now has a personal stake in solving the atrocious mystery. Who is this villainous fiend posing as Jack the Ripper? Can he be caught before he commits his final murder?





About the Author


Carmelo Anaya has published ten novels, including three previous books starring Commissioner Carrillo: The Yellow Earth, The Guardian of My Brother, and Baria City Blues. He lives in Almeria, Spain, where he works as a lawyer and a criminalist.







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Monday, January 15, 2018

A Most Unusual Christmas Gift - Ordinary People Extraordinary Lives #War #NonFiction

This post first appeared at my other site Sweet n Sexy Divas, written by resident Dude James Hatch.

Enjoyed it so much, I wanted to share.

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At my age, Christmas gifts are discouraged—unless it’s something to eat. I mean, really, I already have far too much stuff and one of my goals is to get rid of things rather than acquire more. My wife and I attend Christmas functions for the joy of being with friends and family and nothing more, except perhaps the food. So, this year I was especially surprised to receive a gift from my daughter that almost blew me away. The gift was something I would never have thought of myself, yet something I am moved to the core for having received. She gave me two bricks. Yes, two bricks; however, they are not normal bricks. These bricks are engraved with the names Otto Whittington, Japanese POW, Army—and Harold Whittington, U.S.S Mizar. The bricks will soon be installed in the Walk of Honor at the National Museum for the Pacific War in Fredericksburg, TX, the home of the Admiral Nimitz Museum.
 
The lives of Harold and Otto Whittington are the subjects of my latest book, Ordinary People; Extraordinary Lives. They are heroes of the Greatest Generation in every sense of the word, and my daughter was so moved by their story that she purchased the bricks as a memorial to their lives. Her gift left me in tears, as the book did her. I believe, in all my many years, no gift has touched my heart as much as this one.

Ordinary People; Extraordinary Lives chronicles the struggles of Harold Whittington and his brother, Otto, from birth through the Great Depression and on to WW II. Otto joined the Army and subsequently endured the surrender of Bataan and the Bataan Death March. During Otto’s 3.5 years as a Japanese POW, he was a slave conscript for building roads in the Philippines. Few POWs survived that duty. Later, after a harrowing trip from the Philippines to Japan on a “Death Ship,” Otto was a slave in the Japanese steel mills. Somehow Otto survived two near beheadings, beriberi, malnutrition, malaria, and torture—and twice the steel mills where he labored were targeted for nuclear destruction. Otto could hear the B-29 circling overhead; only the weather spared him. While Otto struggled through severe torture and sickness, Harold joined the Navy and searched for Otto throughout the Pacific theater whenever his supply ship put into port. After the second bomb was dropped on Nagasaki, Otto escaped the POW camp and made his way to a small POW collection point outside Manila. His exit from Japan was also remarkable because the aircraft just ahead of his exploded about 100 feet off the end of the runway. Harold subsequently located his brother in Manila, although, after years of torture, Otto did not recognize him. Harold and Otto returned to the USA after the war. Otto became an attorney and Harold became a professor of sociology at Temple Junior College. The incredible lives of these men, fraught with daunting labor, terror, and pain, serves as a poignant example of why they and others like them, are called “The Greatest Generation.”

Below are reflections by Otto Whittington, an excerpt taken from the book:


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Late in the afternoon, my Hong Kong flight departed, climbing in a southwest direction. A few minutes into the flight I looked down and saw the large white cross standing like a sentinel over the largest military cemetery in the Pacific—Mount Samet where the bloodiest battles of Bataan were fought. Memories and emotions hit me like a sledgehammer. The small jungle covering the peninsula looked peaceful and insignificant in the late afternoon tropical sun, but I remembered a different Bataan—a Bataan where, nearly thirty-nine years ago, my friends, comrades-in-arms, and I started on one of the most brutal and cruel exoduses ever suffered by man. It was called the “Death March” because of the bodies left along the road. Men were shot, bayoneted, or beat to death—the Death March was my introduction to nearly four years of living HELL.

Emotions became more intense and my mind swirled with scenes thought long forgotten, now fresh and vivid. Blood smeared jungles filled the horizon and the sickening stench of death filled the air. Mallett and I were sent to contact the Philippine Army Division on our right. At an aid station behind where the front lines had been, we found wounded Filipino soldiers on litters with their throats cut—the whole division had pulled out. I returned to my regiment to hear the same report from the left flank. With another Philippine Division gone, only one skeleton regiment remained to fill the gap left by two divisions.

The 31st U.S. Infantry troops were ragged and sick with malaria, dysentery, and tropical infections. We had no medical supplies to treat our diseases. We were starved, low on ammunition, and our automatic weapons had burned out in previous battles. Still, the “Battling Bastards of Bataan” would try to hold back General Yamashita's fresh 100,000 troops, just brought in from Singapore.

We were told to keep the enemy engaged, to hold a ridge while other companies fell back. As the enemy advanced, we dropped back, trying to find a place where a small force could hold a line. My squad was blown off a ridge by heavy mortar fire. Falling back, Crowell’s foot was blown off, and he stumbled along on one leg and a bloody stump. He was crazy with shock and pain and fought anyone who tried to help him. Borden fell on his back screaming in pain and with legs kicking. I put my hand under him and felt his heart beating where his back was blown open. I dragged him down the slope as he screamed, begging to die. Time stood still until someone helped me carry him away. We passed bodies—shredded by mortars, artillery, and bombs—in grotesque positions of death. Our last line was on the beach across Cabcaben Airstrip from the ever advancing Japanese.
_____________________________
If you are interested in history, I encourage you to go to Amazon.com and key in James L. Hatch. Buy the book Ordinary People; Extraordinary Lives. It will leave you with a deep sense of thanksgiving for the lives we lead now.

Thank you for reading,

James L. Hatch









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Sunday, January 14, 2018

Asleep From Day - Contemporary Fiction #ContemporaryFiction @SurrealDreams #MemoryLoss

Please welcome Margarita Montimore. Her book, Asleep From Day, sounds fascinating.

Read on for details...

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Contemporary/General Fiction
Date Published: January 10th, 2018

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Astrid can’t remember the best day of her life: yesterday.

A traumatic car accident erases Astrid’s memories of September 9th, the day she spent with an oddly charming stranger named Theo. Ever since, she’s been haunted by surreal dreams and an urgent sense that she’s forgotten something important. One night, she gets a mysterious call from Oliver, who knows more about her than he should and claims he can help her remember. She accepts his help, even as she questions his motives and fights a strange attraction to him.

In order to find Theo and piece together that lost day in September, Astrid must navigate a maze of eccentric Boston nightlife, from the seedy corners of Chinatown to a drug-fueled Alice-in-Wonderland-themed party to a club where everyone dresses like the dead. In between headaches and nightmares, she struggles to differentiate between memory, fantasy, and reality, and starts to wonder if Theo really exists. Eventually, she’ll need to choose between continuing her search for him or following her growing feelings for Oliver. Astrid might go to extreme lengths to find what she’s lost . . . or might lose even more in her pursuit to remember (like her sanity).



 “A compelling and original take on the classic amnesia tale . . . The narrative bursts with detailed, vivid characters . . . The dialogue is expertly crafted.” – The BookLife Prize

“Simply riveting from start to finish... a captivating, literary piece that winds a path somewhere between mystery, romance, and psychological thriller.” – D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review



Excerpt



What’s the last thing you remember?

A rumble, a static rush, the world on a dimmer switch.

Outside, everything was gray.

But inside, a galaxy of color and light. Fireflies behind my eyes, neon in my bones. A nerve net of bioluminescence.

Radiant with hope. Glorious.

Do you know where you are?

In the heart of a storm. Give me lightning. Give me the flood. I’ve bled the sky of pigment, devoured its clouds. They remain like honey on my tongue, crystalized with promise. Nothing was ever sweeter.

What happened?

Something incredible.

Something terrible.

No more color. Fade to grey.

I’ve been robbed of this elation.

Stay with me.



---

I have the weirdest taste in my mouth. Metallic, like I’ve been sucking on pennies, and spicy—no, not spicy. Stinging. Blood. What the—? I move my tongue and feel tiny pebbles. They’re sharp, cutting my gums and the insides of my cheeks. Not pebbles. Teeth? No. Glass.

I turn to spit out pieces of broken glass, but there’s something around my neck and I can’t move it. Okay, don’t panic. I push the glass out of my mouth with the tip of my tongue and pieces roll down my chin on a trail of saliva and blood. Now let’s turn on a light in here.

I open my eyes. Huh.

What is this place? There are shelves of equipment, strange monitors, dials, wires. Some kind of . . . storage room? The image blurs and wobbles. If my head is a handheld camera, whoever’s operating it has a serious case of the shakes. I can’t get a steady picture and I have no idea what this place is.

Have I been kidnapped?

That thought should trigger some modicum of fear. But it’s like I’m trapped in a block of ice and fear is on the other side of it. I can barely muster any curiosity to figure out where I am. The rest of it—how I got here, if I’m safe, hurt, etc.—will have to wait.

So let’s see. The room is tiny, and moving, and noisy. There are beeps, the hiss and tinny chatter of a walkie-talkie, the looped bellow of a siren.

Seriously, where am I?

Nowhere good, a black whisper warns, and a fog in my mind parts, clearing a path for fear, the belated guest.

The image finally snaps into focus and it registers: an ambulance.

Why the fuck am I in an ambulance?

I sit up with a—nope, I can only lift my head maybe an inch.

Why aren’t you panicking more?

Because it’s getting foggy inside my head again and blurry outside of it. I could really use a nap. It’s so chilly in here. And bright. Might as well close my eyes and deal with this in the morning. Ah, the dark is much better.

Hang on. Let’s get some questions answered first, maybe make sure I’m not missing any limbs. I try to sit up again and a hand on my shoulder prevents me from rising any further. No, it’s not just the hand. I’m strapped in.

“Nice to see you coming around, but don’t try to sit up. My name is Leo and I’m a paramedic. Do you know today’s date?”

I squint but can’t make out the face above me.

“September ninth, 1999,” I mumble.

“It’s actually September tenth,” he corrects me. Close enough.

“What happened? Am I hurt?” Of course you’re hurt, genius. I doubt you’re tied to a gurney, with a mouthful of glass, just joyriding in an ambulance.

“It’s going to be okay, Astrid, we’re almost at the hospital.”

How does this guy know my name? Why am I going to the hospital? Because that’s usually the drop-off destination of ambulances. Try to keep up here. What happened to me?

My head is so damn heavy. Back down it goes, more blood, more spit trickling out of the corners of my mouth. I form words but can’t speak them. I manage a garbled whisper, but it’s drowned out by sirens, rattling noises, and the tapping of heavy rain on the ambulance roof.

I need to take stock. I’m mostly immobile, but am I paralyzed? I try to wiggle the toes. Okay, those work fine. Fingers? The ones on the left hand move then seize up in pain. Blinded? Obviously not, but my vision is still fuzzy at the edges. Obviously, I can’t move my head much, but I shouldn’t anyway, in case I have a concussion. Or worse. Go away, black whisper, I don’t need you scaring the shit out of me right now.

Back to my self-assessment. Do I feel pain anywhere else in my body? Now that I mention it, hell yes. Where? Everywhere, especially my left side.

Why can’t I remember how this happened? I keep asking the paramedic, but he won’t tell me. Why won’t he answer me?

Oh yeah, because he can’t actually hear me. Because my lips are barely moving and no sound is coming out.

It’s an effort to form any more words or keep my eyes open. Is there a cold, heavy blanket over me? Uh-oh, those blurry edges are going dark. It’s like someone pushed me into a deep well and I’m falling in slow motion.

“Try to stay awake, Astrid.”

Fingers snap in front of my face.

Cut it out, ambulance man. You’re messing up my nap. It’s so much nicer with my eyes closed. All you do is boss me around with “Don’t sit up” this and “Stay awake” that. The darkness is quiet and doesn’t make annoying demands.

“Astrid. Astrid!”

His voice is like a megaphone in my ear. Where is your mute button, ambulance man?

I think I found it. It’s here, further down in the dark.

I hear two voices, growing fainter as they speak.

“She’s out again, but vitals are stable.”

I’m not out, yet, ambulance man. Give a girl a break, would ya? It’s not my fault I have anvils on my eyelids. Besides, the light in here is too bright. And you are too loud. But I can still hear you fine . . . Mostly . . . Kind of . . .

“You’d think people would know not to drive like assholes in this kind of rain.”

“What is this, third one today?”

“Fourth. You hear about the wreck by the BQE? Five cars and a motorcycle. Two fatalities.”

“This one got lucky.”

“So to speak.”

“So to speak.”

“Want to get breakfast after this?”

“It’s lunchtime.”

“So? I want breakfast. Couldn’t you go for some French toast or pancakes?”

“Maybe eggs. Some strong coffee, bacon . . .”

“Extra bacon.”

How about taking my order, ambulance man? I’ll have—

Darkness.






About the Author


Margarita Montimore received a BFA in Creative Writing from Emerson College. She worked for over a decade in publishing and social media before deciding to focus on the writing dream full-time. She has blogged for Marvel, Google, Quirk Books, and XOJane.com. When not writing, she freelances as a book coach and editor. She grew up in Brooklyn but currently lives in a different part of the Northeast with her husband and dog.





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Saturday, January 13, 2018

Love of Finished Years - Historical Fiction #HistoricalFiction #ImmigrantJourney

Please welcome author Gregory Erich Phillips. He's here to tell us about his historical fiction title Love of Finished Years.

Read on for details...

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Historical Fiction
Date Published: January 2, 2018

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An immigrant's powerful journey of aspiration and love in early Twentieth Century New York.

Pre World War One, Elsa came to America with her eyes wide open, realizing it was up to her to make a life for herself. Surviving a sweat shop in lower Manhattan, a chance job with a Long Island elite family opens up her world. Invited in up to a point, she unwittingly, albeit precariously, crosses the social divide with her now open heart, which puts all she had worked for in jeopardy.

An immigrant's powerful journey of aspiration and love in early Twentieth Century New York.

This moving debut novel by Gregory Erich Phillips won the grand prize in the Chanticleer Reviews international writing competition.



Praise for Love of Finished Years:

"What a truly wonderful story! I’ve read it three times, and with each reading I find myself caring about the fabulous characters and their lives even more.” — P. J. Alderman, New York Times Bestselling Author


“From the riveting opening . . . until its gripping conclusion, this enthralling novel vividly portrays the desperate times of German immigrants landing at Ellis Island in 1905. A timely read . . . it illuminates the issues that we are experiencing a century later. . .Phillips reminds us that love, light, and perseverance can help us find a way to overcome almost any obstacle.” — Chanticleer Reviews


About the Author

For a prolific literary family, Gregory Erich Phillips tells aspirational stories through strong, relatable characters that transcend time and place. Living in Seattle, Washington, he is also an accomplished tango dancer and musician.









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Friday, January 12, 2018

10 more days...and some teasers to make you HOT #TinaDonahueBooks #Menage #HotCops #SexyTats #WickedTimesTwo

Just ten more days until Wicked Times Two is here!

Available January 22 - Universal Link

Check out the teasers for this hot, Hot, HOT menage starring two sexy cops and the manager of Wicked Brand, a tattoo parlor, who's through with love and simply wants to have some wicked fun.



























Wicked Brand Series Blurb:

South Florida just got a helluva lot steamier… During the day, the staff at Wicked Brand makes ink dreams a reality for their appreciative clients. After hours, this naughty crew engages in sensual delights as wild as the designs they’re selling. Their motto? Nothing forbidden. Nothing held back.

Wicked Times Two Blurb:

She’s through with love and just wants to have some wicked fun...

Burned by her cheating boyfriend, Jasmina is finished with the idea of forever after with any guy. That fairy tale doesn’t exist—at least not for her. From now on, protecting her heart and letting pleasure rule is her motto.

Lucky for her, she has the perfect men in mind. Noah and Kyle, two of the hottest cops in West Palm Beach. She hasn’t been able to get them out of her head since they handled an altercation at Wicked Brand, the tattoo parlor she manages. When they come back to get inked, sparks fly.

Noah’s ready to play, and Kyle’s on board. All they want is her—submission, bondage, spanking…no strings or regrets. Seductive days roll into steamy nights, igniting feelings the guys hadn’t expected and Jasmina can’t deny.

What began as a sensual adventure could turn into so much more…if Jasmina can risk a different kind of love.




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Thursday, January 11, 2018

Caressed by the Edge of Darkness - Paranormal Romance and a Contest #ParanormalRomance #Contest #GCGIveaway

Ready for a great paranormal romance? Give Caressed by the Edge of Darkness a try.

The author is also hosting a contest.

Read on for details...
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Paranormal Romance
Date Published: 10/10/17

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Hardened by centuries of torture, former blood slave, Gabriel Erhard, is driven by an insatiable need to destroy his enemies. Violence darkens his battered soul, leaving no place for mercy in his world. Gabriel’s only desire is vengeance—until he finds her.

Seized by vampires, bound as a slave, and placed on the auction block, Jordan Culver is instantly entranced by the dangerous male who claims her. Jordan’s new captor vows to set her free, but his haunted gaze burns with savage desire and his wicked kiss makes her crave his touch and...complete surrender.

While Gabriel battles his enemies, he will break every sacred law to achieve his ultimate goal—uniting the Outcast Society and creating a new vampire Clan. But the distracting human with mesmerizing violet eyes jeopardizes his plans. With very soft whisper she evokes his tormented memories, testing his sanity and challenging his every boundary. Can Jordan help him overcome the miseries of his past and find a future with her?


About the Author

Amanda J. Greene creates paranormal romance for ravenous readers. She lives in Southern California, where she enjoys escaping the rewarding but hectic world of writing by spending time in the sun and sand with her military husband and their two dogs.








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