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Archive for October, 2014

Finding Daddy WarbucksTitle: Finding Daddy Warbucks

Author: David Hwa

Publisher: Wellworth, LLC

Pages: 180

Genre: Christian Fiction

Format: Ebook

We never know how God may lead us. The twists and turns of life often leave us confused and deflated. For 10-year-old Haley, the unexpected loss of her father was such a twist. When all is lost, a little light in the darkness can make all the difference. The world is a big place for a little girl. For that matter, it’s a pretty big place for anyone who has lost their way.

Hayley finds her solution in a modern day prince, but she can’t pull off this miracle by herself. Nick, an attorney struggling to save his job, wouldn’t seem to be much help to a little girl trying to create a miracle. But life has a way of bringing us the people we need most, at just the right time. Still, there is so much that could go wrong, especially when her headstrong mother doesn’t fall for the prince. But there’s something Hayley doesn’t see coming, something she can’t see. Something she doesn’t want to see, something that hides in the dark where she can’t go, something unspeakable.

Follow Haley’s journey into the light and see how redemption is there for anyone, even the condemned. And see how love can find you-even through the darkness.

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ABOUT TODAY
 
I’ve started
reading Rob Lowe’s first autobiography, Stories
I Only Tell My Friends
. In the first chapter he talks about a time when he
was unhappy with his personal life and frustrated with his career. If a young
Rob Lowe can feel that way about his life and career then what about the rest
of us?
Rob’s experience
is a lesson for all of us, because if you can have those feelings of
unhappiness and doubt after having been a successful movie star and with his
good looks, then you know that having all of those things does not lead to
peace and happiness.
I think this is
something we all know deep down inside, but are loath to admit. We would much
rather have the movie career and good looks and then decide for ourselves—okay
am I happier now? Unfortunately, for most of us, we aren’t going to get that
chance. We’re going to have to take our lives just as they are, sans movies and
good looks, and get along as best we can.
What I draw from
Rob Lowe is that these fears and doubts happen to all of us. No one is immune.
I got laid off from my law firm back in 2009. I sold my house in DC and moved
to Colorado without a clue as to what I was going to do for a career. As I now
begin my writing career I face a blank canvas.
In truth, every
day is a blank canvas. We just live under the illusion that our future is set,
but we have no guarantees of anything. This unknown, this doubt that each of us
faces in life, is a universal teacher. It is harsh and unrelenting. None of us
will be able to hide our eyes from the truth forever. Eventually, our illusion
of control will be stripped away, and we will be forced to face the truth.
There is a
method to this madness. There is a lesson to be learned. There are two ways we
can enjoy peace in this life, faith or the lilies of the field. Faith is simple
to understand, but hard to do, and that is to simply have faith that God will
always deliver you. The lilies of the field is similar but with a slight twist
and that makes all the difference.
The lesson of
the lilies of the field can be found in the Gospels.
“Consider
the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell
you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.
. . .
So
do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has
enough trouble of its own.”
Matthew 6:28-29;
34.
Almost every
Christian knows this lesson but nearly everyone ignores it, considering it too
difficult to even attempt, or believing that God would only provide for those
with enough faith to walk on water. But the secret lies in the final verse, “do
not worry about tomorrow”.
Most of us, like
Rob Lowe, don’t like where we’re at and think that happiness and fulfillment
exist somewhere in the future, but not now. We believe this even though we know
that we are not guaranteed tomorrow. The only reality is what we have right
now, but we persist in looking to the future for our happiness.
We only exist
right now and the only time we can be happy is right now. Nothing else exists.
This is the key.
Ask yourself: Is it possible for you to be happy right now?
The answer is
yes.
As for your
worries about tomorrow, ask yourself: Are you okay right now?
The answer here
is also yes. Because if something is going wrong with you right now you’re
dealing with it, not worrying about it. That’s a big difference.
Let me give you
an example. Several years ago while playing racquetball one night with a buddy
of mine, I dislocated my left knee and right elbow. They had to call an
ambulance to come and cart me off to the emergency room where the doctors
“popped” me back together again.
Now, during the
time I was laying on the racquetball court, writhing in pain, waiting for the
ambulance, I was faced with a decision. I knew that in the emergency room the
doctors would have to “pop” me back together and that would be excruciating.
Now, I was already in pain, but the question was whether or not I wanted to
worry about the pain yet to come. I could sense the fear that came with that
worry. It was as if I could see it, sitting on the racquetball court staring at
me. I could also see how I would be turned into a babbling idiot, if I let that
fear in.
I decided to
hold the fear off at arms-length. I would deal with what was already on my
plate, and not worry about the future, but deal with it as it came. So yes, I
was in pain, but I wasn’t afraid and that made a big difference.
This is the
secret to the lilies of the field, deal only with what is on your plate, and
don’t worry about all the things that may be coming down the pipe.
So today, I do
not know what my future holds, and like Rob Lowe in the first chapter of his
book, I have no idea where my career is headed, but unlike Rob, I do my best to
not worry about it. I know I am fine today, and I’ll take tomorrow on, when it
gets here.

 

And if that
doesn’t work I suggest having a pumpkin latte.
 

David Hwa

David Hwa makes his literary debut with Finding Daddy Warbucks (2014) a tale of a little girl’s journey through loss, love and redemption.

David grew up in Kansas. He graduated with a music degree from the University of Colorado and went on to obtain a Master of Business Administration from Denver University, a law degree from Pepperdine University School of Law, and a Master of Laws from Georgetown University Law Center.

He practiced securities law for many years in Los Angeles, California with the U.S. Securities & Exchange Commission. He later moved to Washington, DC where continued his securities practice with the Commission and later in private practice with the law firm of Bingham McCutchen LLP. Following the financial crisis of 2008, David moved back to Colorado and opened his own securities law practice.

David is single and lives in Aurora, Colorado with his two leopard geckos Gordon and Carlos. He spends his days writing, skiing, and occasionally dispensing legal advice, sometimes while on the ski slopes.

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n603087527_2141Cindy Lynn Speer is the author of several novels, including The Chocolatier’s Wife and the short story collection Wishes and Sorrows.  She loves mixing fantasy, mystery and romance and playing with the old stories.  When not writing she can be found reading, teaching people historical fencing, and costuming.

About Wishes and Sorrows:

“Richly ambitious” — Publishers Weekly

For every wish there is a sorrow…

Wishes are born from sorrows, blessings are sometimes curses, and even fairy godmothers cannot always get what they want. In this original collection, Cindy Lynn Speer, the author of “The Chocolatier’s Wife”, brings to life creatures of myths and tales, mixing them into a vibrant tapestry of stories, happy and sad, magical and real, each lovingly crafted and sure to touch the reader’s soul.

Step into the world where magic is real, and every mundane bit of reality is as magical as a true fairy tale.

Q: Congratulations on the release of your latest book, Wishes and Sorrows. What was your inspiration for it?

A:  I love writing short stories – I get lovely little scenes in my head, or people just settle into the back of my mind and start telling their story, and I know that these are not huge stories, they are just this one part of this person’s life, so I settle down and I write it.  Short stories are awesome because it makes you move a different set of mental muscles, keeping the prose on track, focusing on this one tale.  And it’s liberating to have something done in a shorter length of time.  (Though, I do love longer works, too, just for very different reasons.)

Q: Tell us something interesting about your protagonist.

A:  I have several…there’s a woman named Aziza, who is a “Bell Witch” – she scares away ghosts from her village every night.  There’s a lady who marries a very dangerous man despite her friend’s worries in my re-telling of the Mr. Fox/Bluebeard myth “A Necklace of Rubies.”  I have runaways, princesses, faeries, ghosts…each trying to find their way out of a mess to some sort of happy ending.  Some succeed, some…not so much.

Q: How was your creative process like during the writing of this book and how long did it take you to complete it? Did you face any bumps along the way?

A:  This book is so completely different from my other novels because it is the work of many years.  There’s “Remember” – a dark little story that I wrote in college, and the person I was then is not the person who wrote “But Can you Let Him Go?”  The person who wrote the first story had a totally different take on love, darkness…the one who wrote the second, at that time of her life, was much more interested in redemption and how we earn our happy endings in the hope that, eventually, I will earn my own.  So in a lot of ways, this is an interesting look at my development as a writer.  The stories are, on the surface, just good, solid stories with a mix of horror, fantasy, and romance.  Underneath they form my own history, as a writer – what I learned, finding the truth of my voice – and as a person, about what I felt was important at the time, what I valued.  There are more happy endings the older I get (Wow, I sound like I’m 80, I’m not quite half that) because I see how much more important they are.

That all sounds deep…more deep, really, than it should be.  *grins*

perf6.000x9.000.inddQ: How do you keep your narrative exciting throughout the creation of a novel?

A:  One of the awesome things about short stories is that the narratives are short, focused.  You can’t go wandering all around and everything needs to be important.  In novels you can sometimes get away with an awesome conversation or a small side trip as long as it feels like it belongs and it does not bore the reader, but in short stories everything excess is stripped away.  And…also…in a collection, if someone hates one story, they can leap to the next.  The stories are all kind of a mix, so there is something for everyone in it.

Q: Do you experience anxiety before sitting down to write? If yes, how do you handle it?

A:  I don’t…I have anxiety about trying to find time to write, but never about writing itself.  Once I have my mind locked into the writing, I have an awesome time.  It is simply a matter of making time and being disciplined.

Q: What is your writing schedule like and how do you balance it with your other work and family time?

A:  My writing schedule is a bit of catch as catch can sometimes.  I write when I find time…lunch breaks, after dinner, whenever there is free time.

Q: How do you define success?

A:  A lot of ways!  Getting something done you can be proud to stand behind and encourage people to read.  Having someone review your book and really seemed to have enjoyed it.  Even a tweet where someone says, “Hey, when is another book coming out?” is an amazing thing.

A lot of people want to define success with money – and goodness, it would be fun to be able to stay home and write, that is my dream.  But who knows if it will ever happen?  So I define success by the small goals.  I am so happy when someone says, “I liked this!” – making my readers happy is the best thing, ever.

Q: What advice would you give to aspiring writers whose spouses or partners don’t support their dreams of becoming an author?

A:  It is about balance and honesty.  I have seen so many people who were unhappy swallow it – they have someone who does not support their work, but they keep their unhappiness to themselves because they don’t want to hurt their partner.  I see this as treating the person you love as someone who isn’t your friend.  Sit down and talk to them about how important this is, how it is a part of you.  Ask how you can both work together so you have the writing time you need.

Mostly people are reasonable.  Some are not.  But the key is…I think the things that mean the most are the ones worth fighting for.  So if he or she won’t support you, as long as you are doing your part to keep the house/life/relationship going, there is no shame in carving out time to write, locking the door and saying, “I love you, but this is my time to work on my dreams.”

Q: George Orwell once wrote: “Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.” Do you agree?

A:I do, mostly.  Writing is work…sometimes you are just clicking away and you are like, “This is the best thing, ever!” and then you slow down, and you stop.  For me it’s not (generally) like hitting a way as much as coming to c clearing and having a feeling that you took a wrong turn back there somewhere, and you are unsure what direction you should go, so you sort of wander around the edges and try and see if any the paths out look right.  And making sure it all sounds right, everything is work.  But like I said, if it’s worth it, it’s worth the work.

Q:  Anything else you’d like to tell my readers?

A:  If  you want to be a writer, be persistent.  Never give up, read lots, and keep going.  If you are a reader, thank you – keep reading and telling people what makes you happy, because it is a great gift.

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Bawbs cover
Title:
 Bawb’s Raven Feathers

Author: Robert Chomany

Publisher: Invermere Press

Genre: Inspirational

Format: Paperback/Ebook

BawB’s Raven Feathers is pure and simple. It kickstarts moments of self-reflection and inner peace, drawing on nostalgia while pushing the reader to live in the present and dream of tomorrow. Alternating brief chapters of prose with perfectly rhythmic, adult rhymes, this book holds appeal for the masses.

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Robert (BawB) Chomany is the author of the BawB’s Raven Feathers series, pure and simple inspirational books. He was born in Calgary, Alberta, with a clear view of the mountains to the west. These mountains eventually drew Bob in, and he spent many years living in the company of nature, exploring his spiritual side.

Bob pursues his many interests with passion. You are just as likely to find him twisting a wrench or riding his motorcycle, as you are to find him holding a pen, writing.

Bob still lives in Calgary, where he finds happiness by simply living with a smile and sharing his words of wisdom with others. Learn more about Robert at his website, http://bawbsravenfeathers.com/.

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SYNOPSIS

Discovering who you are is not just for teenagers. Midlife men must also rediscover the world around them while struggling with their own impending mortality and legacy, especially those who change careers and lifestyles.

Middle-aged men like me are under siege, beset on all sides by personal ambition, internal expectations, familial pressure, disillusionment, uncertainty, and legacy. It’s a constant battle to balance the needs of the self and the needs of others and a struggle to discover which ones really take priority. Some win this battle and some tragically lose.

Curmudgeonism is a state of mind, unwavering, unapologetic, and uninterested in what people think. We are the proverbial old dog that can’t be taught new tricks because we know the old tricks are tried and true. We have firm beliefs that can’t be shaken. Free trade is good. True leaders are rare. Happiness is a luxury. Golf is a waste of time and we don’t have enough years left to be unproductive. We don’t apologize for our views because we’ve spent half a lifetime developing them. Theory and idealism sounds good in school but only until it becomes cost prohibitive and the real world determines ground truth. Curmudgeons are uncaring about what people think and have low expectations on the world because it’s done little more than disappoint us. We’re middle aged and tired of looking, acting, feeling the way people want us to, so we’re breaking out and being who we were meant to be; irascible curs who make the world a better place through brutal honesty. We see this as our duty and take it seriously.

Buy the ticket. Take the ride.

Where to purchase Curmudgeonism

EXCERPT

 

Think you’re owed happiness? You’re not. Happiness is a luxury, not a necessity. Some say “if you’re not happy doing what you’re doing then don’t do it.” Those people are surprisingly more comfortable with a welfare Christmas and a moped than the average person. It’s idealistic, but many times unrealistic and as we’ve learned already, idealism has a cost.

The definition of happiness is different for everyone but one thing is for sure-it’s fleeting. Just when you think you’re on the verge of a touchdown, the goal line moves. The variables change and suddenly you’re on a quest to make it to the next level of happiness. Even then, you can accomplish your mission in life and buy a nice house, nice cars, and a baby giraffe and feel happy but then you realize you have to protect it. You have everything you wanted and a life that’s enviable. That means you have to maintain it. You have to keep it going. That adds pressure and makes you unhappy again. It’s a vicious cycle.

The universe does not owe anyone a single atom of happiness and there’s no law that says you have to love your chosen profession. As long as a job provides income and necessities for the family then it can suck badger milk because true happiness for a man comes from being a provider. It’s our responsibility to take care of our kin and we want to fulfill that responsibility no matter how happy or unhappy it makes us. Curmudgeons sacrifice the happiness of the self for the needs of the family because we’re not egotistical or narcissistic.

Some Deepak Chopra Zen master schmuck will tell you that you have to be happy in life or that you should continually strive to find greater levels of happiness. That works for some, but if you’re a family man then you have the responsibility to provide for those you love and that’s it. If you’re not happy but you’re providing a good life then suck it up, cupcake.

My soul dies a little each day at work, but I provide a comfortable living for my family therefore I will be its punching bag and shut up and take it. Some days I hate what I’ve become but then I step through the doors of my house and it’s all washed away. Coming home from a day on the job is like finishing a hard ass gym workout. It sucked, but in the end it’s satisfying to know my sacrifice had a purpose and my good health means I will live to work another day and my family will be good to go a little longer. Men are wired to provide, even if it’s just for ourselves, and when anything threatens our ability to do that we freak out just a little bit.

On the grand scale of things happiness is a want, not a need. We need to provide. We want to be happy but if we’re not happy, but we’re providing then that’s a form of happiness in itself or at the very least a form of satisfaction. I may not fit some liberal’s view of happy but I’m content and that’s good enough for me. Don’t agree? Quit your crappy job just to spite me. It’s not easy is it? Show me a job that pays as much as I’m making now that I can enjoy and then I’ll listen to your “don’t work in a job you hate” argument. Otherwise leave me alone. I have a family to provide for.

 


Picture

The Author
Kelly’s Twitter / Facebook  / GoodreadsKelly Crigger is an angry troll who lives under a bridge, eats goats that wander past, and throws their bones into the canyon of despair.

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Synopsis
New Year’s Eve, 1951. Hollywood, California. As Tinseltown rings in the twilight of its Golden Age, a young man arrives from Texas hell-bent on exploiting his brooding good-looks in exchange for a shot at stardom–only to become dangerously entangled in the lives of one of the most powerful couples in show business. As his dream devolves into a lurid nightmare, he must choose between fortune and fame or sanity and survival in this City of Whores.
“Subtly powerful…a Truman Capote-like piece…deeply affecting and tinged with pathos…” – Kirkus Reviews
“…displays an excellent sense of plot and pacing…the historical settings sparkle…” – Foreword Reviews (To be published September 1, 2014)
Where to purchase City of Whores
 

City of Whores

excerpt from the novel by Mark B. Perry

© 2014 Starboard Home Press

Author’s note: In City of Whores, Dan Root is reflecting on the two tumultuous years of his youth in Hollywood when he aspired to be a movie star in the early 1950s, going first by the stage name Clifton Garrow and then ultimately Dexter Gaines. Through a set of circumstances that begin with a waiter job at a star-studded New Year’s Eve soiree in the home of Academy Award-winning producer Milford (“Milly”) B. Langen and his gorgeous actress wife, Lillian Sinclair, Dan is astonished to find himself enjoying Lillian’s southern home cooking at an intimate dinner party in the power couple’s home the very next day, eating collard greens and black-eyed peas with the “glamorous and unpredictable” Miss Tallulah Bankhead. Dan also has a nervous condition that causes his hands to tremble. 

From Chapter Seven of City of Whores

#

Our journey had begun together on New Year’s Day, 1952, with Milly’s baffling one-eighty turn, and my staying not only for a traditional Southern dinner, but for the night and into the surreal months that dragged into the two years that still lay ahead. Too drunk to drive, and with no place to go and only eight bucks to my name, I accepted when Lilly had insisted that they make up the bed in the cabana for me. With the servants having the day off, she changed the sheets herself—expertly, I might add—as Milly leaned in the open French doors, puffing on a cigarette and chatting away, the chilly night seeping in behind him.

            “I don’t know about your choice of friends, Lillian,” he said, smoke expelling from his nose.

            “We can’t just toss him out into the streets, Milly.”

            “I was referring to Tallu. You do realize she wasn’t wearing any panties, don’t you?”

            “God only knows how you know.”

            Milly grimaced, carefully stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray. “She made certain that I did. She loves to torture me, that one.”

            As for me, next to Lillian, Tallulah Bankhead was my second favorite new friend. When she had talked to me, obviously wondering why I was there in the first place, she’d seemed genuinely interested. She was further enchanted to learn that my father hailed from her home state of Alabama, and pronounced us practically “next of kin.” Struggling to make conversation, I’d asked her, “So…Miss Bankhead…what advice would you give to a new actor coming to Hollywood?”

            She’d rattled the ice cubes in her nearly empty bourbon glass and raised an eyebrow, saying, “Take Fountain.”

            Milly and Lilly found this uproarious, but I merely looked at her, having no clue what she meant. Then, Milly baited her: “I thought that was Bette Davis’ line.”

            “Fuck Bette Davis, not that I’d want to. She’s constantly robbing from me, you know. Little Foxes, Dark Victory, and don’t even get me started on All About Eve! She stole my entire persona lock, stock, and hairdo! Even went so far as to claim she had laryngitis as an excuse to mimic my very voice!” she roared, then patted my hand by way of explanation. “Fountain’s an east-west street, honey-child. And if you ever call me Miss Bankhead again, I’ll make certain you’re the end of your lineage. Now who cares? My glass is empty.”

            “So’s your bottle,” Milly said in an undertone, apparently unfazed by her histrionics.

            “There’s more in the pantry,” Lillian yawned.

            “I’ll get it,” I said, rising, anxious for some air.

            “Would you mind grabbing the champagne from the icebox?” Lilly asked.

            “And bring more collards, darling! I feel just like I’m down home again!” Tallulah added.

            “Happy to,” I said, then moved through the butler’s pantry, and into the kitchen. Even before I was out of the room, I could already hear Tallulah trying to be discreet. But lowering that voice was a near impossibility.

            “Who exactly is this divine creature?” was all I heard before the door swung closed behind me. Puck and Trouble perked up from their cushy little bed in the breakfast nook, and Puck stood, stretched, and shook himself before trotting alongside me as I fetched the cold bottle of champagne and then rummaged in the pantry until I found the Southern Comfort. I gave the scruffy mutt a scrap of ham from the platter on the counter, which he gobbled up hungrily, then just sat there, watching my every move with a dog’s vigilant look of adoration tinged with worry.

            By the time I returned to the dining room with the improbable combination of champagne, bourbon, and collard greens, there was an explosive sound like an air raid siren after too many Lucky Strikes, and I realized it was Tallulah laughing. The three of them sat up as I entered with the bottles, their brief conspiracy interrupted.

            “Please, darling,” Tallulah said, lighting yet another cigarette, “I simply must have sustenance before I fly back to New York tomorrow.”

            “So soon?” Lilly asked, genuinely disappointed.

            “Oh, you know, it’s this goddamned trial. I didn’t even want to press charges, I mean, honestly darling, the publicity is simply ruinous,” she said between puffs, referring to some legal trouble she was having with a former housekeeper. “And I’m still doing The Big Show on Sundays, and then, of course, there’s my goddamned book. My cup overturneth!”

            They spoke now of her impending memoir, which was to become a bestseller later that year. But all I really knew of Tallulah Bankhead was her role in Lifeboat. It wasn’t until Lilly explained to me a few days later that I realized just how important a figure Tallulah was in the international theater. Still, it was a little unsettling how this outrageous woman always stared at my crotch.

            My hands were once again shaking as I managed to get the foil off the top of the champagne bottle. I had just started on the cork when Milly leapt to his feet. “Good Lord, man, where were you raised?”

            I stopped, feeling immediately shamed and embarrassed, trying not to let it show. “We…didn’t drink a lot of champagne in Tyler.”

            Milly softened, as if he could tell he’d been too cruel. “I’m sorry. Here. Let me teach you the proper method. It’s not supposed to pop, you know, and you never let the cork fly out. Instead…” He picked up his crisp dinner napkin and draped it over the bottle, then gently began to nudge until there was a faint hiss. His movements had an elegance and precision to them, and my hurt quickly gave way to admiration when he dramatically whisked the cloth away, revealing the sparkling steam of the freshly opened bubbly. “It’s supposed to make the sound of a satisfied woman.”

            “In which case you obviously haven’t a clue what you’re doing,” Tallulah rasped, then she and Lillian giggled.

            Milly carefully held the bottle with his thumb pinched in its recessed bottom, and reached to refill my glass. “You first, young man,” he said, “with apologies for my brusque behavior.”

            “Hey,” I laughed, tossing it off, “at least I learned something.”

            He nodded as I toasted him, the situation diffused. Heck, a Joe could pick up a thing or two from these powerful, sophisticated people.

            After a dessert of old-fashioned strawberry shortcake, Tallulah downed the dregs of her bourbon, stubbed out the last cigarette from the pack she had opened when we first sat down for dinner, and announced, “Well, darlings, I must be off. Or so my detractors say.”

            “But it’s still early,” Lilly protested. “Can’t you stay the night?”

            “Not this time, darling. There’s this gorgeous bartender at the Beverly Hills expecting me.”

            “Picking up another strange man, Tallulah?” Milly asked, always teasing her.

            “Who said anything about a man?” she growled as she knelt to let the two dogs affectionately lick her face, wobbling slightly and nearly losing her balance when she stood up again. She glanced at me, then pulled Lillian into a tight hug. Being as there was no such thing as speaking under her breath for Tallu, I distinctly heard her whisper to Lilly, “Take good care of your little pets, darling. All three of them.”

            While we waited for her taxi, Milly went into his study and emerged with an expensive Argus still camera, insisting on pictures to record the occasion. Lilly and Tallu posed together, obviously dear old friends, then, at Lilly’s insistence, Milly snapped a few of me flanked by those two captivating women. Outside, we watched as her cab pulled away into the night, with Tallulah shouting at the driver, “I hate fucking Los Angeles!”

            To which the hack simply shrugged and replied, “Then don’t.” Tallu roared a braying, guttural laugh as they drove off, and Milly and I joined her. We didn’t realize that Lillian was already crying. She would miss her dearest friend terribly in the months ahead, unaware of her impending betrayal.

The Author

Mark’s Blog Twitter / Facebook  / Goodreads

Mark B. Perry was born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia, and earned his BA in broadcast journalism from the University of Georgia. An aspiring writer and filmmaker, he moved to Los Angeles in 1986 and worked as an office temp until he wrote a script on spec for the top-ten show The Wonder Years. Not only did this writing sample lead to a freelance assignment and a staff position on the series, it was also

purchased and produced as the opening episode of the 1989-1990 season, entitled “Summer Song.” Its premiere was the number three show for that week in the Nielsen Ratings, outranked only by the venerable Roseanne and The Cosby Show.

After three years and eighteen episodes of The Wonder Years, Mark went on to write and produce such diverse television series as Northern Exposure, Picket Fences, Moon Over Miami, Law & Order, Party of Five, Push, Time of Your Life, Pasadena, First Years, That Was Then, One Tree Hill, Windfall, and What About Brian. After helping successfully launch the second season of ABC’s Brothers & Sisters in 2007, Mark was then a co-executive producer on CBS’s Ghost Whisperer. Finally, in 2011, Mark began two gloriously venomous seasons on the ABC hit Revenge before resigning to complete his debut novel, City of Whores.

As a producer on the first season on David E. Kelley’s Picket Fences, Mark and the other producers received an Emmy Award for Outstanding Dramatic Series (1993). For his episode of Party of Five entitled “Falsies,” he was nominated for a Writers Guild of America Award for Best Achievement in Dramatic Writing (1997). And for his writing and producing services on that same series, he shared a Golden Globe Award for Best Drama (1996). 

 
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120064-ROBE-soft-LSI-111512.inddTitle:
 The Way to Financial Independence
Author: Pearl Iseabell Roberts
Publisher: Xlibris
Pages: 48
Genre: Business/Economics
Format: Ebook

Purchase at AMAZON

The way to financial independence is like building a house. You can’t build unless you have a solid foundation. You need to have the desire, the determination, and the goals to become self-sufficient. Be confident in yourself and be motivated. Let’s name some of the building materials that you will need: education, as much as you can get, and the learning process never stops. As I converse with people, I find myself saying, “I didn’t know that” While learning how to manage your money, also pay off your debts. Have a budget and saving plan. Be disciplined in spending. Don’t be wasteful. Take time to get the best for your buck. Learn how to invest. Know what you are investing in and how it will make you money. Do not do risky investment, and do not gamble and be responsible. Learn everything that you can about finance and save, save, save.

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Pearl Iseabell Poole Roberts is a born again Christian. I am a widow. I was married for thirty-eight and a half years. I am the mother of three children. My oldest son Walter Leon Roberts is deceased. My second son is Brian Keith Roberts. I have a daughter, Paula Lynette Brown, a son-in-law, Otis Tito Brown and two grandsons, Otis Tyree Brown and Omarie Thomas Brown. I am a retired licensed practical nurse. I worked as a nurse for forty-five years. I worked for one of the largest hospital in Philadelphia, PA and for several nursing agencies. When you retire, you should retire from something to something. So your life will be full. The things that I didn’t have time to do when I was working, now I can do them. I like spending time with family and friends. I am active in my church and other ministries outside of my church. I like to read, watch movies, travel, and play games. I enjoy listening to gospel music and bowling, just to name a few.

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Toe Up to 10K 1

Title: Toe Up to 10K

Author: Steven Fujita

Publisher: BookBaby

Pages: 168

Genre: Self-Help

Format: Ebook

In June 2012, Steven Fujita went to the emergency room, and was diagnosed with meningitis. After four days of improvement, he was scheduled to be discharged when his condition worsened dramatically. His blood pressure, body temperature and sodium levels all became dangerously low. He started to lose consciousness. He was rushed to the Intensive Care Unit. He had suffered spinal cord damage at the T4 level. Upon regaining full consciousness, Fujita could not speak, eat, breathe independently, control bodily functions, nor move his legs.

“Once we understand what we have to go through, become resolved to see it through, and know we will survive, we feel our ordeal is not so bad,” Fujita writes. In this book, he takes the reader on a journey of recovery from a spinal cord injury. It is not only a journey of determination and hard work, but of positive attitude, of drawing inspiration, of gratitude towards those around him: his family, his friends, co-workers, and medical professionals.

Purchase Your Copy At:

Steven Fujita was born in Los Angeles and raised in Torrance, California. He attended college in Washington, D.C., and currently lives in Long Beach, California.

Listen to Steven Fujita’s interview on the Book Club with John Austin, which aired November 2, 2010, about his novella, Sword of the Undead, a re-telling of Bram Stoker’s vampire novel, Dracula.

His other book, $10 a Day Towards $1,000,000, is available on Kindle. This book promotes the idea of using time and savings to build wealth.

His new book, Toe Up to 10K, was released in September 2014. This book chronicles his recovery from spinal cord injury he sustained in 2012.

Visit his website at: www.stevenfujitaauthor.com

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Title: The Darkest Side of Saturn

Author: Tony Taylor

Publisher: iUniverse

Pages: 492

Genre: Science Fiction

Format: Ebook

Purchase at AMAZON

It’s 1997 at a mountaintop observatory in Southern California where spacecraft navigator Harris Mitchel and astronomer Diana Muse-Jones discover a dangerous asteroid which may hit the earth within two decades. As the asteroid tumbles through space towards an uncertain impact, Harris and Diana fight bitterly over how to announce their discovery. When Harris goes public to a skeptical world—at the cost of his and Diana’s careers—he sends their already turbulent relationship into a blaze of conflicting passions. As his notoriety builds, a fanatical preacher and his unhinged followers stalk him while an obnoxious radio personality provides disruptive help. Harris becomes an unwilling Pied Piper for his own overzealous followers hungry for belief and eager for guidance into an uncertain and tumultuous future. In this science fiction drama the characters battle each other in contests of Damn your world view! against a background of hard science, religion, romance, metaphysical speculation, and the forces of nature versus human passions and dreams. Meanwhile an asteroid hurtles through the solar system and global salvation or disaster hangs in the balance. “A courageous and visionary work … an instant classic.” —BlueInk Reviews


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Thanks very much for the opportunity to participate in your
blog. I appreciate the effort and hard work you put into this site.
About Some Things Asteroidal
The Darkest Side of
Saturn
is, among other things, an asteroid story—an astronomer and an
engineer co-discover a two mile wide asteroid that might or might not hit the Earth
in 16 years. Their conundrum (besides the potentially illicit affair between
them that the asteroid exacerbates)  is
how to announce it without making jackasses of themselves.
Since the story is about a fictional dangerous asteroid, and
since we know that real asteroids present the Earth with problems now and then,
I’ll say a little about them here. If you want to either put your mind at ease
or scare the b’Jesus out of yourself—depending on how paranoid you are—read on.
Do we need to worry
about an asteroid collision?
In a word—NO.  It’s not something you need to lose sleep
over. If you allow a few more words, it’s a very low probability but very high
consequence event. It’s like that old fighter pilot’s saying about flying: “99%
boredom, 1% stark terror,” except for large asteroids it’s more like 99.999…
(and a lot more digits) boredom, and a teeny tiny little bit of really stark terror.
If a two mile wide asteroid like the one in the book hit,
the explosion would be like detonating the whole world’s nuclear arsenal,
except nearly a hundred times larger. It would likely induce “asteroid winter”,
causing crop failures and 100 times more deaths than from the direct blast
alone. Hundreds of millions—maybe even billions of people—including you and
everyone you know—could die of starvation and wars because of the collapse of
civilization.
So, it’s not likely to happen, particularly in the short
term, but over the long term the odds go up. If we wait long enough, we will be hit, the question is whether
it’s in tens of years, or thousands, or millions, or longer. For the big ones,
it’s millions, like the six mile wide asteroid that killed the dinosaurs. But
then, that was 65 million years ago. Are we overdue? To paraphrase Ray
Bradbury, “Does something wicked this way come?”
Regardless, if we find one with our name on it in the short
term, small or large, we better do something about it. That brings up the next
question:
If an asteroid impact is predicted, what could we do and how much time
would we need?
We’d need lots of lead time. It
takes a few years to build and launch a spacecraft and a few more years to get
there and do something. For some asteroids, like Bennu (500m wide), we already
know the risk more than 150 years out. It’s about a 1:1000 probability of
impact in the last part of the 22nd century. We won’t have to worry about it,
but the children of our great-great-great grandchildren might.
Others might pop up with less
warning. If it were a really big one, say over a kilometer diameter, we’d
probably need at least 15–20 years to do something about it—even earlier would
be better. We’d want to deflect it. We’d want to send a spacecraft out, or
maybe even a fleet of spacecraft to nudge it a little bit. Not much, just a few
millimeters per second. That’s enough, over a decade or more, to cause it to
miss.
One way to nudge it is the old tried and true method of the
movies— nuke it! But nuke it very carefully! Some asteroids turn out to
be rubble piles of rocks barely held together by weak gravity. If you’re not
careful, you could turn what would have been a rifle shot into a shotgun blast
and be worse off than before. Nuke it, but a little distance away so that it
vaporizes some of the surface rather than blasting it apart, and the reaction
drives it in the opposite direction.
If it’s smaller, say around 100
meters wide like the Tunguska asteroid of 1908 that leveled most of a thousand
square miles of Siberian forest, we might do with a little less warning time to
mount a mission with nuclear devices, or we could do other things if we had
more time, like hit it with a massive spacecraft going as fast as we could make
it go. That would be like the Deep Impact spacecraft that we deliberately drove
into Comet Tempel 1 in 2005. You might need to hit it with more than one to get
it moving enough.
If it were still smaller—like the
20 meter asteroid that exploded over Chelyabinsk, Russia last year (generating
an explosion 25 times the Hiroshima atomic bomb)—and we had plenty of time,
there are other methods like zapping it with lasers from a fleet of spacecraft
to vaporize surface material and depend on the reaction to nudge it. Or we
could even hover a spacecraft nearby and use the mutual gravitational
attraction to pull it, like a gravity tractor but a very weak one.
If you want more information about asteroids, I suggest
Googling names like “Asteroid impact” or “Asteroid deflection,” or going to
Wikipedia for the same topics. There’s also the NASA Near Earth Object Program
web site at neo.jpl.nasa.gov that
has great detail on potentially hazardous asteroids, but maybe too technical
for some.
One last thought:
Why should I read The Darkest Side of Saturn: Odyssey of a
Reluctant Prophet of Doom?
Why wouldn’t you if you want to know the fate of the
universe, the meaning of life, and the answers to other religious,
philosophical, and metaphysical questions, all of them asked and answered in an
alternate universe? That’s not even to mention the illicit romance between
Harris and Diana, the co-discoverers of asteroid Babylym, and the ballet thrown
in for added entertainment. You know, all those things like asteroids,
religion, sex, metaphysics and dancing that just naturally go together.

 

Tony Taylor spent a long career navigating NASA spacecraft—including Voyager, Cassini, Mars Polar Lander, Galileo, and MESSENGER—to every planet in the solar system. He graduated from the United States Air Force Academy and earned an MS in physics from the University of Arizona. Tony and his wife, Jan, live in Sedona, Arizona.

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*Don’t forget to enter the giveaway below*
 
EXCERPT
 
“No,” he answered with painful honesty, “none of us do. But here’s what I do know. Your blood pressure has been steadily dropping despite experiencing stressers like the interview DHS conducted. Your body temperature is dropping. Your pupils are dilating slower than normal. You were complaining to the agents that they were talking too fast, and you’ve been describing your vision as blurry. As strange as it may sound, I believe this drug you were injected with slows the human body down considerably, and it does so on a subcellular level. I’ve never heard of such a drug before, and it doesn’t match anything Innovo Pharmaceutical research disclosed to us.
“Despite the fact that we can’t isolate the drug from any blood or tissue samples, we’re moving forward with the theory that these rogue doctors developed a drug that slows down cellular activity and—for whatever reason—they injected you with that drug.”
His voice sounded faster than normal. All of theirs were. They didn’t have the high-pitched fast-forward quality you might expect to hear when things speed up, but they sounded muffled, like I was listening to their words through a blanket. I rubbed my blurring eyes as the room seemed to pitch to a five-degree angle—just slightly off-kilter. The moment reminded me of a time from my youth when I’d had an inner ear infection. We were living in the hurricane shelters in Texas, and I remember stumbling around the house, bumping into walls and doors. Now, even though I was strung to the hospital bed with a dozen electrodes, I just knew that one step would have me toppling.
“Daddy!” Bella’s cute little voice pierced the air as she rushed past the doctor and nurses and everyone else in the room with blind enthusiasm. Seven years old and oblivious to everything except wanting her father. It was only when she grabbed my arms and got close that she realized my body was drizzled with wires. “Daddy, what is all this stuff?”
Miranda and Amara followed with a hospital worker in tow. Franciscus snapped at the worker that my family needed to leave, and the next few seconds were a buzz of everyone talking over each other.
“—they can’t be in here right now.”
“Martin, are you okay?”
“—isn’t the best time—”
“—going on with my husband?”
“—not going to tell you again to get them out of—”
“Nurse, check those connections to make sure it is reading right—”
“—let go of my daughter!”
Nurses and a new doctor quick-stepped past my family and the agents. One woman was talking to another so rapidly I couldn’t even make out what she was saying. The world turned about fifteen degrees sideways, and instinctively my hand reached for the railing. The air felt hot as nausea swelled, and I took a deep breath to keep from dry heaving.
Bella yanked on my fingers. “Daddy, can you take me to the vending machines?”
Amara snapped at her little sister. “Stupid, how is he going to take you anywhere! He’s in a bed!”
“Ma’am, we’re going to need you and your children to step out—” Agent Franciscus raised his voice.
I closed my eyes to gain my composure. They were moving and walking and talking as if I were watching a surveillance video through my own eyes.
“Hi, Daddy, how are you hey you look funny are you playing around Daddy stop playing around Momma Momma Daddy is acting weird!”
Bella’s sentences were all blended together, and before I could respond she was being pulled from the room by my wife. I blinked hard and flapped my eyelids to keep them from stinging and—hopefully—to clear my head. I tried yawning to pop my ears, thinking perhaps they were clogged. A second later Dave stood by the bedside, shaking my arm.
“Martin Martin are you okay can you hear me what’s wrong Buddy you’re not looking so hot can you please just say—” Dave was talking as if on fast-forward, his words riding one upon another.
“Slow down,” I started to say, trying to cut through their rapid speech and the concern on their faces. “I feel very strange—”
The nurse cut me off. My voice sounded raspy in my own head, and low-toned.
“Martin why are you talking so slow do you understand what I am saying?”
“Yeah, but you can’t talk so fast—”
“I need you to tell me what you’re feeling right now.”
I tried to get a word in edgewise. “I’m trying to answer, if you would let me—”
Amara had been standing in the doorway, watching the chaos from a distance after being yanked into the hallway by somebody on the staff. She ran back into the room with the hospital worker chasing after her. “Daddy why are you talking like that are you fooling around you’re fooling right come on Daddy tell the truth you are playing right you are pretending right Daddy?”
“No, sweetie, I’m not. I don’t—” I couldn’t even finish one sentence as the girls kept talking over me. The woman grabbed Amara with both hands and pulled her kicking and screaming from the room, her face flushed with anger as they rapidly sank backward toward the hallway. “Let go of my kid!” I tried to yell, but the command stalled in my throat and sputtered out like a whisper.
“Leavehimaloneleavehimalonenowstopit!”
“We’vegottotransporthimtothelabrightnow . . .”
“Wherearewemovinghimto?”
“Ma’amyouneedtocalmdownandtakeyourchildrenoutofhere—”
The room became a swirl of battered sentences strung together and overlapping. The doctors and nurses took the foreground, asking me questions, never waiting long enough for me to answer. For split seconds I could catch the movement behind them. Miranda was holding onto Amara now, dragging her from view. The hospital worker was bent over the crying face of Bella.
“Belladon’tworryyourfatherisgoingtobefinethesemenareheartohelphimit’sokayit’sokaydon’tbescaredcomeonlet’sgowithyourmomandsisterokay?”
“. . . thereisnosignofastrokewe’veplacedacalltoLangleyyesIunderstand . . .”
“. . . sealoffthisareafromvisitors . . .”
“. . . goingtoneedtotransporthim . . .”
Life turned sideways as they wheeled my gurney from the room and raced to the rooftop. Tears were building in my eyes again. I had to resign myself to quick glimpses of the world as I shut my lids and peeked from behind them when something caught my ear or moved me enough to rouse my curiosity.
By the time they got me into the medivac helicopter, I finally understood what Bruchmuller had injected me with. Those four syringes were the culmination of what these doctors had been researching. The world wasn’t speeding up; I was slowing down.
I had become the rat.
 
 
SYNOPSIS
 
Would you ever travel forward in time if you knew it was a one-way trip? Mr. Martin James has no such desire, but after being injected with a mysterious drug against his will, Martin hurtles through the years. This cruel twist of fate forces him to watch his children grow up and his wife grow old in a matter of days. Only an elusive group of scientists have the ability to stop his nightmarish journey; the very people who injected him in the first place. And while Martin James hopes to find a cure before everyone he loves is gone, others are uncertain if his journey can be stopped at all.
W. Lawrence weaves a future history filled with the best and worst of humanity, highlights the blessings and curses of technology, and pushes the limits of faith and hopelessness. Above all, Syncing Forward is a tale of one man’s love for his family, and their devotion to saving him from being lost forever.
Where to purchase Syncing Forward
The Author
W. Lawrence’s Website / Twitter Facebook  / Goodreads
W Lawrence was born in San Francisco, California, and moved two dozen times before settling in Pennsylvania with his extraordinarily patient wife and two precocious daughters. He wants a boy dog. He works in the world of corporate security as an investigator and professional interviewer/interrogator.



Lawrence is obsessed with 5K zombie runs, comes home empty-handed from hunting turkeys, and loves non-fiction books about pirates. He has no problem reconciling that his two favorite shows are Downton Abbey and The Walking Dead.

ENTER THE GIVEAWAY

 

Follow the entire Syncing Forward tour HERE
 
 
 

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Title: Don’t Stick Sticks Up Your Nose

Author: Jerald S. Altman, M.D. and Richard Jacobson

Publisher: ZonaBooks, LLC

Pages: 23

Genre: Children’s

Format: Ebook

Stuff in their Ears? Sticks up their nose?

Let’s keep things out of our kid’s ears and nose! Rhyming and beautiful, bright and colorful illustrations will gently remind children to avoid putting things where they don’t go! After 14 years of practice, Dr. Altman never ceases to be amazed at what children will think of to stick up their noses or stuff in their ears. From rocks to raisins, paper to peanuts, crayons to candy and buttons to beads, Dr. Altman has removed them all!

Sometimes adults marvel at the wonderful curiosity of young children…until their inquisitive natures cause them to insert unimaginable objects into inappropriate places. It’s difficult to appreciate a child’s creativity when it might cause a medical emergency.

Don’t Stick Sticks Up Your Nose! Don’t Stuff Stuff In Your Ears! explains to children, in a fun, colorful, and memorable way, why it’s a good idea to avoid such behavior.

The kids will soon be repeating the rhyming verses while being gently reminded not to stick things up their noses and not to stuff things in their ears.

For More Information

Nosebleeds

Nosebleeds are very common and general start in the front of the nose, on the septum which is the wall that divides the right side of the nose from the left side. They are most common in children between the ages of 2-10 years and then again in adulthood between ages 50 and 80 years. While they are scary to see, most are not dangerous—just messy. Since most nosebleeds occur in the front of the nose, they can be stopped by pinching the soft parts of the nose together for 5 minutes. If it doesn’t stop, hold for 10 more minutes. If the bleeding continues, the patient should be seen by a doctor.

Recurrent nosebleeds should be evaluated by an Ear, Nose and Throat doctor. Most are caused by trauma (vigorous nose blowing, itching or picking the nose) but can be caused by other causes such as infections, foreign bodies, growths and some uncommon diseases. The doctor can examine the nose (commonly by inserting a lighted telescope to thoroughly evaluate the nose) and treat the bleeding site with cautery, if needed. Occasionally, the child may have to be undergo general anesthesia to adequately cauterize the bleeding area.

To prevent nosebleeds:         1) Keep kids’ fingernails short

2) Apply Vaseline or Antibiotic ointment to the nostril and   septum                                                    3 times a day for 2 weeks.

3) Keep a humidifier in the bedroom near the patient.

4) Spray the nose with saline spray several times a day.

Jerald Altman is an Otolaryngologist-Head and Neck Surgeon (ENT Doctor). After publishing many peer-reviewed journal articles, he recognized the need for a children’s book dealing with a common problem in his practice. He was recognized as a Phoenix Top Doc in 2010, 2011, 2012 & 2013.

He is a general Otolaryngologist and he loves taking care of children’s ear, nose and throat issues. Accordingly, the idea for this book came from his pediatric patients and their incessant need to put things where they shouldn’t go!

Richard Jacobson studied architecture at Yale University and has spent most of his adult life designing interiors, landscapes, tablescapes, clothing… and just about anything else that can be fashioned in a creative way. He lives in Phoenix and  enjoys training dogs, birds and topiaries in his spare time.

He once collaborated with his co-author’s (then) seven-year old daughter on a painting for her newly-decorated bedroom. Asked by her mother how she had enjoyed the experience, she replied bluntly, “He’s a little controlling.” Years later, her accurate judgment tempered the rhyming verses he used to gently guide young children’s behavior.

For More Information

October 6
Book featured at All Inclusive Retort
October 8
Book featured at Zensanity
October 9
Book reviewed at The Blended Blog
October 13
Book featured at Review From Here
Book reviewed at The Gal in the Blue Mask
October 15
Book featured at A Taste of My Mind
October 16
Guest blogging at The Revolving Bookshelf
October 20
Book featured at 3 Partners in Shopping
October 21
Guest blogging at The Dark Phantom
October 22
Book reviewed at Confessions of a Reader
October 23
Book featured at The Literary Nook
October 24
Interviewed at As the Page Turns
October 27
Guest blogging at I’m Shelf-ish
October 28
Book reviewed at This Little Book of Mine
October 29
Book featured at Fiction to Fruition
October 30
Guest blogging at The Book Refuge

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