Posted in BOOKS

Naughtiest Girl Collection 1 (books 1-3): Books 1-3 (The Naughtiest Girl Collection) by Enid Blyton

This collection includes: 

Book 1: The Naughtiest Girl In The School 

Elizabeth Allen is spoilt and selfish. When’s she’s sent away to boarding school she makes up her mind to be the naughtiest pupil there’s ever been! But Elizabeth soon finds out that being bad isn’t as simple as it seems … 

 

Book 2: The Naughtiest Girl Again 

The naughtiest girl in the school is back! And this term she’s trying to be good. But someone wants to spoil things for her. And they’re not going to let her forget how she got her nickname! 

 

Book 3: The Naughtiest Girl Is A Monitor 

When Elizabeth Allen is chosen to be a school monitor, she’s delighted. But she soon finds out just what a responsible job it is. The harder she tries, the worse she behaves! Will the naughtiest girl in the school EVER learn to be good?

https://www.amazon.com.au/gp/aw/d/B017HNFKD4/ref=pd_aw_sbs_351_1?ie=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=86NX2REBK0TFJNRXWMKR

Posted in BOOKS

Outsider by Anthony Franze

A young law clerk finds himself caught in the crosshairs of a serial killer in this breathtaking thriller set in the high-pressure world of the Supreme Court, from renowned lawyer Anthony Franze. 

Things aren’t going well for Grayson Hernandez. He just graduated from a fourth-tier law school, he’s drowning in student debt, and the only job he can find is as a messenger. The position stings the most because it’s at the Supreme Court, where Gray is forced to watch the best and the brightest―the elite group of lawyers who serve as the justices’ law clerks—from the outside. 

When Gray intervenes in a violent mugging, he lands in the good graces of the victim: the Chief Justice of the United States. Gray soon finds himself the newest—and unlikeliest—law clerk at the Supreme Court. It’s another world: highbrow debates over justice and the law in the inner sanctum of the nation’s highest court; upscale dinners with his new friends; attention from Lauren Hart, the brilliant and beautiful co-clerk he can’t stop thinking about. 

But just as Gray begins to adapt to his new life, the FBI approaches him with unsettling news. The Feds think there’s a killer connected to the Supreme Court. And they want Gray to be their eyes and ears inside One First Street. Little does Gray know that the FBI will soon set its sights on him. 

Racing against the clock in a world cloaked in secrecy, Gray must uncover the truth before the murderer strikes again in this thrilling high-stakes story of power and revenge by Washington, D.C. lawyer-turned-author Anthony Franze.

About the Author

ANTHONY FRANZE is a lawyer in the Appellate and Supreme Court practice of a prominent Washington, D.C. law firm, and a critically acclaimed thriller writer with novels set in the nation’s highest court. Franze has been a commentator on legal and Supreme Court issues for The New Republic , Bloomberg , National Law Journal , and other major media outlets. He is a board member and a Vice President of the International Thriller Writers organization. Franze lives in the Washington, D.C. area with his family. Learn more at anthonyfranzebooks.com

https://www.amazon.com/Outsider-Novel-Anthony-Franze/dp/1250071666

Posted in BOOKS

Lies by TM Logan


About the Book

WHAT IF YOUR WHOLE LIFE WAS BASED ON LIES? 

A gripping new psychological thriller of secrets and revenge.

When Joe Lynch sees his wife enter an underground car park in the middle of the day, he’s intrigued enough to follow her down.

And when he sees her in an angry altercation with family friend Ben, he naturally goes to her defence – and doesn’t for a minute believe the accusations Ben makes against her.

It’s pure misfortune that, just as the clash becomes violent and Ben is knocked unconscious, Joe’s son has an asthma attack, and Joe has to take him to safety.

Author bio:

TM Logan was born in Berkshire to an English father and a German mother. He studied at Queen Mary and Cardiff universities before becoming a national newspaper journalist. He currently works in communications, in the field of higher education, and lives in Nottinghamshire with his wife and two children. Follow him on Twitter @TMLoganAuthor

Posted in BOOKS

Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman


 

Introducing an instant classic—master storyteller Neil Gaiman presents a dazzling version of the great Norse myths. 

Neil Gaiman has long been inspired by ancient mythology in creating the fantastical realms of his fiction. Now he turns his attention back to the source, presenting a bravura rendition of the great northern tales. 

In Norse Mythology, Gaiman stays true to the myths in envisioning the major Norse pantheon: Odin, the highest of the high, wise, daring, and cunning; Thor, Odin’s son, incredibly strong yet not the wisest of gods; and Loki, son of a giant, blood brother to Odin and a trickster and unsurpassable manipulator. 

Gaiman fashions these primeval stories into a novelistic arc that begins with the genesis of the legendary nine worlds and delves into the exploits of deities, dwarfs, and giants. Once, when Thor’s hammer is stolen, 

Thor must disguise himself as a woman, difficult with his beard and huge appetite, to steal it back. More poignant is the tale in which the blood of Kvasir, the most sagacious of gods, is turned into a mead that infuses drinkers with poetry. The work culminates in Ragnarok, the twilight of the gods and rebirth of a new time and people.  

Through Gaiman’s deft and witty prose emerge these gods with their fiercely competitive natures, their susceptibility to being duped and to duping others, and their tendency to let passion ignite their actions, making these long-ago myths breathe pungent life again.

https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B01LY7XGR1/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=&sr=

Posted in BOOKS

Mr. Mysterious, Series: The Mister Series, Book 4 by JA Huss 


Paxton Vance isn’t as cryptic as he thinks. That broody nature and tough-guy exterior aren’t fooling me one bit. 

I know everything about him. I listen in on his most personal phone calls. I read his mail before he does. I even know what his mother got him for Christmas last year. 

You’re the man of my dreams, Paxton Vance. You just don’t know it yet. But don’t worry, I’ll remind you. I’m here to give you everything you need, before you know you need it. 

So don’t get defensive because I take a challenge seriously. You have to open up to someone, and that someone is me. 

Besides, you can’t stay Mr. Mysterious forever. Why play the game if you never want to win?

https://www.amazon.com/Mr-Mysterious-Mister-Standalone-Book-ebook/dp/B01K0CZBG0

Posted in POEM OF THE WEEK

Waiting For The Barbarians by Constantine P. Cavafy

What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum?

The barbarians are due here today.

Why isn’t anything happening in the senate?

Why do the senators sit there without legislating?

Because the barbarians are coming today.

What laws can the senators make now?

Once the barbarians are here, they’ll do the legislating.

Why did our emperor get up so early,

and why is he sitting at the city’s main gate

on his throne, in state, wearing the crown?

Because the barbarians are coming today

and the emperor is waiting to receive their leader.

He has even prepared a scroll to give him,

replete with titles, with imposing names.
Why have our two consuls and praetors come out today

wearing their embroidered, their scarlet togas?

Why have they put on bracelets with so many amethysts,

and rings sparkling with magnificent emeralds?

Why are they carrying elegant canes

beautifully worked in silver and gold?
Because the barbarians are coming today

and things like that dazzle the barbarians.
Why don’t our distinguished orators come forward as usual

to make their speeches, say what they have to say?
Because the barbarians are coming today

and they’re bored by rhetoric and public speaking.
Why this sudden restlessness, this confusion?

(How serious people’s faces have become.)

Why are the streets and squares emptying so rapidly, 

everyone going home so lost in thought?

Because night has fallen and the barbarians have not come.

And some who have just returned from the border say

there are no barbarians any longer.

And now, what’s going to happen to us without barbarians?

They were, those people, a kind of solution.

Posted in BOOKS

COVER REVEAL – TWISTED FAIRY TALES ANTHOLOGY

Title: Twisted Fairy Tales Anthology

Genre: Juvenile Fiction/Fantasy

Publisher: Alternate Endings Publications

Expected Release Date: May 1st, 2017

Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR

Blurb:

Be warned. This quest is not for the faint of heart. Turn back now if you doubt your conviction, for the journey is perilous and the beasts unforgiving.

Well then…if it is adventure that you seek the path lies ahead. Travel with us now down a dark and winding road. We’ll guide you through the Twisted Fairy Tale Forest where demons lurk and dark magic reigns. Steel your mind and guard your heart, brave one, for an ancient evil from a forgotten realm hides deep within the shadows. Fallen angels fly on dark wings. Creatures great and small stalk their prey from afar, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Fear not. There is goodness here for those who truly see. Heroes conquer and love prevails…but, not all is not as it seems and not every fairy tale has a happy ending.


 

Author Bio

The Twisted Fairy Tales Anthology is a collection of short stories written by a talented group of young authors. They have taken the world of classic fairy tales and tilted it on its axis to bring you some of the most imaginative, often terrifying, retellings you’ll ever read.

Contributing Authors

J.M. Bach, Alex Clark, Makayla Desmit, Lauren Frick, Alexander Hartman, Madeleine Harris, Faith Hays, Polaris Jimenez, Emily Lorenzen, and Grey Nebel.

Pre-Order Link:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2pHqxEz

Posted in BOOKS

The Whistler A Novel: A Novel: 24 by John Grisham



Product Description

From John Grisham, America’s #1 bestselling author, comes the most electrifying novel of the year, a high-stakes thrill ride through the darkest corners of the Sunshine State.

We expect our judges to be honest and wise. Their integrity and impartiality are the bedrock of the entire judicial system. We trust them to ensure fair trials, to protect the rights of all litigants, to punish those who do wrong, and to oversee the orderly and efficient flow of justice.

     But what happens when a judge bends the law or takes a bribe? It’s rare, but it happens.

     Lacy Stoltz is an investigator for the Florida Board on Judicial Conduct. She is a lawyer, not a cop, and it is her job to respond to complaints dealing with judicial misconduct. After nine years with the Board, she knows that most problems are caused by incompetence, not corruption. 

     But a corruption case eventually crosses her desk. A previously disbarred lawyer is back in business with a new identity. He now goes by the name Greg Myers, and he claims to know of a Florida judge who has stolen more money than all other crooked judges combined. And not just crooked judges in Florida. All judges, from all states, and throughout U.S. history.

     What’s the source of the ill-gotten gains? It seems the judge was secretly involved with the construction of a large casino on Native American land. The Coast Mafia financed the casino and is now helping itself to a sizable skim of each month’s cash. The judge is getting a cut and looking the other way. It’s a sweet deal: Everyone is making money.

     But now Greg wants to put a stop to it. His only client is a person who knows the truth and wants to blow the whistle and collect millions under Florida law. Greg files a complaint with the Board on Judicial Conduct, and the case is assigned to Lacy Stoltz, who immediately suspects that this one could be dangerous.

     Dangerous is one thing. Deadly is something else.

Review

“Riveting . . . finely drawn . . . The Whistler centers on an elaborate conspiracy involving an Indian reservation, an organized crime syndicate and a crooked judge skimming a small fortune from the tribal casino’s monthly haul.”—The New York Times Book Review  
“A main character who’s a seriously appealing woman . . . a whistle-blower who secretly calls attention to corruption . . . a strong and frightening sense of place . . . Grisham’s on his game.”—Janet Maslin, The New York Times
“A fascinating look at judicial corruption . . . an entirely convincing story and one of Grisham’s best. I can’t think of another major American novelist since Sinclair Lewis who has so effectively targeted social and political ills in our society. In Grisham’s case, it is time at least to recognize that at his best he is not simply the author of entertaining legal thrillers but an important novelistic critic of our society. In more than 30 novels, he has often used his exceptional storytelling skills to take a hard look at injustice and corruption in the legal world and in our society as a whole.”—Patrick Anderson, The Washington Post   
“Grisham’s latest involves the rich and powerful and an abuse of the justice system. Grisham novels are crowd-pleasers because he knows how to satisfy readers who want to see injustice crushed, and justice truly prevails for those who cannot buy influence.”—Associated Press
“Grisham has become an institution. For more than 25 years now he’s been our guide to the byways and backwaters of our legal system, superb in particular at ferreting out its vulnerabilities and dramatizing their abuse in gripping style. He excels at describing injustice and corruption. Grisham’s legal knowledge is impressive, and his ability to convey it unparalleled in popular fiction.”—USA Today

About the Author

John Grisham is the author of twenty-nine novels, one work of nonfiction, a collection of stories, and six novels for young readers.


Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

1

The satellite radio was playing soft jazz, a compromise. Lacy, the owner of the Prius and thus the radio, loathed rap almost as much as Hugo, her passenger, loathed contemporary country. They had failed to agree on sports talk, public radio, golden oldies, adult comedy, and the BBC, without getting near bluegrass, CNN, opera, or a hundred other stations. Out of frustration on her part and fatigue on his, they both threw in the towel early and settled on soft jazz. Soft, so Hugo’s deep and lengthy nap would not be disturbed. Soft, because Lacy didn’t care much for jazz either. It was another give-and-take of sorts, one of many that had sustained their teamwork over the years. He slept and she drove and both were content.
Before the Great Recession, the Board on Judicial Conduct had access to a small pool of state-owned Hondas, all with four doors and white paint and low mileage. With budget cuts, though, those disappeared. Lacy, Hugo, and countless other public employees in Florida were now expected to use their own vehicles for the state’s work, reimbursed at fifty cents a mile. Hugo, with four kids and a hefty mortgage, drove an ancient Bronco that could barely make it to the office, let alone a road trip. And so he slept.
Lacy enjoyed the quiet. She handled most of her cases alone, as did her colleagues. Deeper cuts had decimated the office, and the BJC was down to its last six investigators. Seven, in a state of twenty million people, with a thousand judges sitting in six hundred courtrooms and processing a half a million cases a year. Lacy was forever grateful that almost all judges were honest, hardworking people committed to justice and equality. Otherwise, she would have left long ago. The small number of bad apples kept her busy fifty hours a week.
She gently touched the signal switch and slowed on the exit ramp. When the car rolled to a stop, Hugo lurched forward as if wide awake and ready for the day. “Where are we?” he asked.
“Almost there. Twenty minutes. Time for you to roll to your right and snore at the window.”
“Sorry. Was I snoring?”
“You always snore, at least according to your wife.”
“Well, in my defense, I was walking the floor at three this morning with her latest child. I think it’s a girl. What’s her name?”
“Wife or daughter?”
“Ha‑ha.”
The lovely and ever-pregnant Verna kept few secrets when it came to her husband. It was her calling to keep his ego in check and it was no small task. In another life, Hugo had been a football star in high school, then the top-rated signee in his class at Florida State, and the first freshman to crack the starting lineup. He’d been a tailback, both bruising and dazzling, for three and a half games anyway, until they carried him off on a stretcher with a jammed vertebra in his upper spine. He vowed to make a comeback. His mother said no. He graduated with honors and went to law school. His glory days were fading fast, but he would always carry some of the swagger possessed by all-Americans. He couldn’t help it.
“Twenty minutes, huh?” he grunted.
“Sure, or not. If you like, I’ll just leave you in the car with the motor running and you can sleep all day.”
 He rolled to his right, closed his eyes, and said, “I want a new partner.”
“That’s an idea, but the problem is nobody else will have you.”
“And one with a bigger car.”
“It gets fifty miles a gallon.”
He grunted again, grew still, then twitched, jerked, mumbled, and sat straight up. He rubbed his eyes and said, “What are we listening to?”
“We had this conversation a long time ago, when we left Tallahassee, just as you were beginning to hibernate.”
“I offered to drive, as I recall.”
“Yes, with one eye open. It meant so much. How’s Pippin?”
“She cries a lot. Usually, and I say this from vast experience, when a newborn cries it’s for a reason. Food, water, diaper, momma–whatever. Not this one. She squawks for the hell of it. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“If you’ll recall, I’ve actually walked the floors with Pippin on two occasions.”
“Yes, and God bless you. Can you come over tonight?”
“Anytime. She’s number four. You guys thought about birth control?”
“We are beginning to have that conversation. And now that we’re on the subject, how’s your sex life?”
“Sorry. My mistake.” At thirty-six Lacy was single and attractive, and her sex life was a rich source of whispered curiosity around the office.
They were going east toward the Atlantic Ocean. St. Augustine was eight miles ahead. Lacy finally turned off the radio when Hugo asked, “And you’ve been here before?”
“Yes, a few years back. Then boyfriend and I spent a week on the beach in a friend’s condo.”
“A lot of sex?”
“Here we go again. Is your mind always in the gutter?”
“Well, come to think of it, the answer has to be yes. Plus, you need to understand that Pippin is now a month old, which means that Verna and I have not had normal relations in at least three months. I still maintain, at least to myself, that she cut me off three weeks too early, but it’s sort of a moot point. Can’t really go back and catch up, you know? So things are fairly ramped up in my corner; not sure she feels the same way. Three rug rats and a newborn do serious damage to that intimacy thing.”
“I’ll never know.”
He tried to focus on the highway for a mile or two, then his eyelids grew heavy and he began to nod. She glanced at him and smiled. In her nine years with the Board, she and Hugo had worked a dozen cases together. They made a nice team and trusted each other, and both knew that any bad behavior by him, and there had been none to date, would immediately be reported to Verna. Lacy worked with Hugo, but she gossiped and shopped with Verna.
St. Augustine was billed as the oldest city in America, the very spot where Ponce de León landed and began exploring. Long on history and heavy on tourism, it was a lovely town with historic buildings and thick Spanish moss dripping from ancient oaks. As they entered its outskirts, the traffic slowed and tour buses stopped. To the right and in the distance, an old cathedral towered above the town. Lacy remembered it all very well. The week with the old boyfriend had been a disaster, but she had fond memories of St. Augustine.
One of many disasters.
“And who is this mysterious deep throat we are supposed to meet?” Hugo asked, rubbing his eyes once again, now determined to stay awake.
“Don’t know yet, but his code name is Randy.”
“Okay, and please remind me why we are tag teaming a secret meeting with a man using an alias who has yet to file a formal complaint against one of our esteemed judges.”
“I can’t explain. But I’ve talked to him three times on the phone and he sounds, uh, rather earnest.”
“Great. When was the last time you talked to a complaining party who didn’t sound, uh, rather earnest?”
“Stick with me, okay? Michael said go, and we’re here.” Michael was the director, their boss.
“Of course. No clue as to the alleged unethical conduct?”
“Oh yes. Randy said it was big.”
“Gee, never heard that before.”
They turned onto King Street and poked along with the downtown traffic. It was mid-July, still the high season in north Florida, and tourists in shorts and sandals drifted along the sidewalks, apparently going nowhere. Lacy parked on a side street and they joined the tourists. They found a coffee shop and killed half an hour flipping through glossy real estate brochures. At noon, as instructed, they walked into Luca’s Grill and got a table for three. They ordered iced tea and waited. Thirty minutes passed with no sign of Randy, so they ordered sandwiches. Fries on the side for Hugo, fruit for Lacy. Eating as slowly as possible, they kept an eye on the door and waited.
As lawyers, they valued their time. As investigators, they had learned patience. The two roles were often in conflict.
At 2:00 p.m., they gave up and returned to the car, as smothering as a sauna. As Lacy turned the key, her cell phone rattled. Caller unknown. She grabbed it and said, “Yes.”
A male voice said, “I asked you to come alone.” It was Randy.
“I suppose you have the right to ask. We were supposed to meet at noon, for lunch.”
A pause, then, “I’m at the Municipal Marina, at the end of King Street, three blocks away. Tell your buddy to get lost and we’ll talk.”
“Look, Randy, I’m not a cop and I don’t do cloak-and-dagger very well. I’ll meet you, say hello and all that, but if I don’t have your real name within sixty seconds then I’m leaving.”
“Fair enough.”
She canceled the call and mumbled, “Fair enough.”
 
The marina was busy with pleasure craft and a few fishing boats coming and going. A long pontoon was unloading a gaggle of noisy tourists. A restaurant with a patio at the water’s edge was still doing a brisk business. Crews on charter boats were spraying decks and sprucing things up for tomorrow’s charters.
Lacy walked along the central pier, looking for the face of a man she’d never met. Ahead, standing next to a fuel pump, an aging beach bum gave a slight, awkward wave and nodded. She returned the nod and kept walking. He was about sixty, with too much gray hair flowing from under a Panama hat. Shorts, sandals, a gaudy floral-print shirt, the typical bronze, leathery skin of someone who spent far too much time in the sun. His eyes were covered by aviator shades. With a smile he stepped forward and said, “You must be Lacy Stoltz.”
She took his hand and said, “Yes, and you are?”
“Name’s Ramsey Mix. A pleasure to meet you.”
“A pleasure. We were supposed to meet at noon.”
“My apologies. Had a bit of boat trouble.” He nodded down the pier to a large powerboat moored at the end of the dock. It wasn’t the longest boat in the harbor at that moment, but it was close. “Can we talk there?” he asked.
“On the boat?”
“Sure. It’s much more private.”
Crawling onto a boat with a complete stranger struck her as a bad idea and she hesitated. Before she could answer, Mix asked, “Who’s the black guy?” He was looking in the direction of King Street. Lacy turned and saw Hugo casually following a pack of tourists nearing the marina.
“He’s my colleague,” she said.
“Sort of a bodyguard?”
“I don’t need a bodyguard, Mr. Mix. We’re not armed, but my friend there could pitch you into the water in about two seconds.”
“Let’s hope that won’t be necessary. I come in peace.”
“That’s good to hear. I’ll get on the boat only if it stays where it is. If the engines start, then our meeting is over.”
“Fair enough.”
She followed him along the pier, past a row of sailboats that looked as though they had not seen the open sea in months, and to his boat, cleverly named Conspirator. He stepped on board and offered a hand to help her. On the deck, under a canvas awning, there was a small wooden table with four folding chairs. He waved at it and said, “Welcome aboard. Have a seat.”
Lacy took quick stock of her surroundings. Without sitting, she said, “Are we alone?”
“Well, not entirely. I have a friend who enjoys boating with me. Name is Carlita. Would you like to meet her?”
“Only if she’s important to your story.”
“She is not.” Mix was looking at the marina, where Hugo was leaning on a rail. Hugo waved, as if to say, “I’m watching everything.” Mix waved back and said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Lacy said.
“Is it safe to assume that whatever I’m about to tell you will be rehashed with Mr. Hatch in short order?”
“He’s my colleague. We work together on some cases, maybe this one. How do you know his name?”
“I happen to own a computer. Checked out the website. BJC really should update it.”
“I know. Budget cuts.”
“His name vaguely rings a bell.”
“He had a brief career as a football player at Florida State.”
“Maybe that’s it. I’m a Gator fan myself.”
Lacy refused to respond to this. It was so typical of the South, where folks attached themselves to college football teams with a fanaticism she’d always found irksome.
Mix said, “So he’ll know everything?”
“Yes.”
“Call him over. I’ll get us something to drink.”
 
 
2

Carlita served drinks from a wooden tray–diet sodas for Lacy and Hugo, a bottle of beer for Mix. She was a pretty Hispanic lady, at least twenty years his junior, and she seemed pleased to have guests, especially another woman.

Lacy made a note on her legal pad and said, “A quick question. The phone you used fifteen minutes ago had a different number than the phone you used last week.”
“Is that a question?” Mix replied.
“It’s close enough.”
“Okay. I use a lot of prepaid phones. And I move around all the time. I’m assuming the number I have for you is a cell phone issued by your employer, correct?”
“That’s right. We don’t use personal phones for state business, so my number is not likely to change.”
“That’ll make it simpler, I guess. My phones change by the month, sometimes by the week.”
So far, in their first five minutes together, everything Mix said had only opened the door for more questions. Lacy was still miffed at being stood up for lunch, and she didn’t like the first impression he made. She said, “Okay, Mr. Mix, at this point Hugo and I go silent. You start talking. Tell us your story, and if it has huge gaps that require us to fish around and stumble in the dark, then we’ll get bored and go home. You were coy enough on the phone to lure me here. Start talking.”
Mix looked at Hugo with a smile and asked, “She always this blunt?”
Hugo, unsmiling, nodded yes. He folded his hands on the table and waited. Lacy put down her pen.
Mix swallowed a mouthful of beer and began: “I practiced law for thirty years in Pensacola. Small firm–we usually had five or six lawyers. Back in the day we did well and life was good. One of my early clients was a developer, a real high roller who built condos, subdivisions, hotels, strip malls, the typical Florida stuff that goes up overnight. I never trusted the guy but he was making so much money I finally took the bait. He got me in some deals, small slices here and there, and for a while it all worked. I started dreaming of getting rich, which, in Florida anyway, can lead to serious trouble. My friend was cooking the books and taking on way too much debt, stuff I didn’t know about. Turns out there were some bogus loans, bogus everything, really, and the FBI came in with one of its patented RICO cluster bombs and indicted half of Pensacola, me included. A lot of folks got burned–developers, bankers, realtors, lawyers, and other shysters. You probably didn’t hear about it because you investigate judges, not lawyers. Anyway, I flipped, sang like a choirboy, got a deal, pled to one count of mail fraud, and spent sixteen months in a federal camp. Lost my license and made a lot of enemies. Now I lie low. I applied for reinstatement and got my license back. I have one client these days, and he’s the guy we’ll talk about from now on. Questions?” From the empty chair, he retrieved an unmarked file and handed it to Lacy. “Here’s the scoop on me. Newspaper articles, my plea agreement, all the stuff you might need. I’m legit, or as legit an any ex-con can be, and every word I’m saying is true.”

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01C1LUFFK/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B01C1LUFFK&linkCode=as2&tag=buycheapand08-20&linkId=c108cf55f000d3f452cd61140917d848

Posted in BOOKS

COVER REVEAL – SHAMELESS BY M. MALONE & NANA MALONE

Release Date: 5/22/17   

Blurb: 

I am the thing that goes bump in the night. I am a liar, a protector…a killer…I am Noah Blake. There is only one light in my darkness, one bright ray in the storm of my life. Lucia DeMarco. And I’ll do anything for her. Anything except show her who I really am…an assassin. Well, former assassin. I don’t really do that anymore…usually. It would be easier if she didn’t call me names. Asshole, control freak…shameless. It would also be easier if she didn’t look at me with those trusting gray eyes. If I didn’t dream about the perfect curve of her — never mind all that. The point is she’s digging into my world, my secrets, and it’s going to get her killed. But first, we have another more immediate concern. Lucia is going on a date—With someone else…

  

Authors

M. Malone

NYT & USA Today Bestselling author M. Malone lives in the Washington, DC metro area with her three favorite guys, her husband and their two sons. She holds a Master’s degree in Business from a prestigious college that would no doubt be scandalized at how she’s using her expensive education. Independently published, she has sold more than 1/2 million ebooks in her two series THE ALEXANDERS and BLUE-COLLAR BILLIONAIRES. Since starting her indie journey in 2011 with the runaway bestselling novella “Teasing Trent”, her work has appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists more than a dozen times. She’s now a full-time writer and spends 99.8% of her time in her pajamas.

Nana Malone

USA Today Best Seller, Nana Malone’s love of all things romance and adventure started with a tattered romantic suspense she “borrowed” from her cousin. It was a sultry summer afternoon in Ghana, and Nana was a precocious thirteen. She’s been in love with kick butt heroines ever since. With her overactive imagination, and channeling her inner Buffy, it was only a matter a time before she started creating her own characters. While she waits for her chance at a job as a ninja assassin, in the meantime Nana works out her drama, passion and sass with fictional characters every bit as sassy and kick butt as she thinks she is.

Posted in BOOKS

Escaping Cyprus & Escaping Cyprus II: The Final Chapter by Gus Constantine

Description

This novel is based on true accounts. I have conducted many interviews here in the United States and have traveled to Cyprus for additional research. The atrocities described in the novel are factual.

When Turkish soldiers invade his Cypriot village in 1974, twelve-year old Haji witnesses brutal atrocities, including the torturous murders of his father and sister while his pregnant mother was repeatedly being raped.

With the help of his beautiful school teacher Rebecca, (dishonored many times by Turkish soldiers) they flee their village only to face constant life-threatening danger wherever they went; as the barbaric Turkish soldiers continue to pursue them.

Their struggle to survive the Turkish soldiers and then to erase their horrible memories that haunt them lead to the dramatic ending.

About the Author

Gus Constantine is retired from the transportation industry. During his career Gus has been involved in several charitable organizations and continues to do so. He has served on his Church board holding several officer positions, including President. While serving as President of St. Paraskevi Greek Orthodox Church, Gus wrote a monthly newsletter in the Church magazine. Gus is also an author of several short stories. Gus lives on Long Island with his wife Georgia of thirty-six years. They have three grown children and seven grandchildren.

https://www.amazon.com/Escaping-Cyprus-Gus-Constantine/dp/150754720X/ref=as_li_ss_tl?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1464961703&sr=1-1&keywords=escaping+cyprus&linkCode=sl1&tag=wingre0d-20&linkId=b299a735de7c7251b4c42bc8393ad455#mediaMatrix_secondary_view_div_1492754335108

Escaping Cyprus II: The Final Chapter by Gus Constantine

Description

Escaping Cyprus II: The Final Chapter continues forty-two years after Escaping Cyprus. Be prepared to be on the edge of your seat as you continue to live with Rebecca and Haji. Although it’s forty-two years later the atrocities they had inflected on them never left.

As the saga continues with the next generation as the twists and turns will keep you from putting the book down.

https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B01MR9IBDP/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1492754434&sr=1-2