The Books-a-Fire authors are at it again. From May 13 – May 31 there will be free and discounted ebooks available for everyone.
All you need to do is visit the Books-a-Fire website and click on the book covers to see what surprises are in store for you. Will they be free for discounted? You’ll have to visit every day to find out because each day it could be different.
Visit http://www.booksafiregiveaway.com/ to find out.
All the Books-a-Fire authors are providing excerpts from their book. Here is an excerpt from my book, Let Sleeping Dogs Lie.
She was alone. Truly alone. She stood there, not sure what to do. Finally she walked to the gurney. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the sheet – and then she pulled it back. Her hands came to her mouth to stifle a cry. Unable to control her knees any longer, she dropped to the floor.
Hot tears burned her face like acid rain. She squeezed her eyes tight and all she saw was Thomas. Thomas as he was now, under this sheet – dead.
It was Thomas. No mistake. Her husband, her lover, her best friend. The man she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with. The man who possessed her mind, body and soul. Dead.
Visit the Books-a-Fire authors at the links below for more details about their featured ebooks.
Gloria Repp – Facebook
Visit me at my Facebook page
Have fun finding great deals on some amazing ebooks.
I’m a little behind the times here but I wanted to let you know that the Books-a-Fire Grand Prize winner was drawn and the lucky person is Karen Couch. Congratulations, Karen, we hope you enjoy the $100 Amazon Gift Card and the bundle of books and music. This was a fun experience for me and I truly appreciate everyone who came to my site and entered. I hope to have more fun and interesting post for you in the near future. Have a great day! Tami
Two more winners were chosen in the Books-a-Fire Giveaway. On Friday Helen Geraghty’s name was drawn for a $25.00 Amazon Gift Card and today Jessica Pittman was chosen for a Bundle of Books from the authors of the Books-a-Fire Giveaway. Congratulations to Helen and Jessica and their participation is appreciated.
If you have not entered the Books-a-Fire Giveaway, there is still a few days left. Go to the ”Giveaway” tab at the top of this website for details. Make sure you go to each author’s contest page for more chances to win.
The Books-a-Fire team gave away two $25 Amazon Gift Cards to two lucky people today. They are Shannon Jean Rhea and Tina Connor Myers. Congratulations ladies!
There are still more great prizes to be awarded. If you have not entered, please do so. You can enter using the links below or click on the “Giveaway” tab at the top of the page. Be sure to go to the Books-a-Fire website to enter 14 more times.
Thank you for stopping by and GOOD LUCK!!
I’m so excited! Why? Well, I’m part of a great giveaway that includes 10 other indie authors and 3 indie musicians and we’re giving away some awesome prizes. Starting January 15 and continuing to January 30, you can enter to win some great prizes, such as Amazon gift cards, book and music. What better way to start of your new year than with free books and free music, not to mention a chance for $250 in Amazon gift cards?
Here’s how it works, click on the top link below and you will be taken to the Rafflecopter Entry Form. There you can enter for a chance at the awesome prizes. Click the second link below to go to the Books-a-Fire Website, from there you can go to the other authors’ and musicians’ sites to enter again. In all, you have 14 chances to win! So be sure to visit all the sites, increasing your chances of winning even more.
No purchase is necessary to enter, but if you’re interested in good books and music, take a look at what each sponsor has to offer. Good Luck!!
First, before you read my review of Stairway to My Heart by Marion Marchetto, let me say that writing reviews is a new and unfamiliar endeavor for me. As a writer, writing a review would seem like a cinch. I found that this is not the case. Telling others that you “loved” or “hated” a book is easy, but telling them why you “loved” or “hated” a book is another task completely.
Because so many readers rely on reviews and because authors must prove to the general public that their books are worth their time and money, I find myself seeking reviews and honing the craft of writing them. Keep in mind, while you’re reading reviews, that they only matter if they are honest. I assure you that my review of Stairway to My Heart by Marion Marchetto is an honest review.
An Amazing Journey Back in Time
Stairway to My Heart by Marion Marchetto takes the reader of a remarkable journey back in time. She skillfully recreates the world of turn-of-the-century Boston and New York through vivid and crisp descriptions.
The story chronicles the lives of Kevin Newkirk and Cordelia Conner. Kevin, in need of a wife that will suit his family and society, marries Cordelia, whose sole ambition is to rise in social standing. With less than a spark of love between them, they turn to others to ignite the flames of passion.
I developed a love-hate relationship with the characters. One minute I would cheer them on and the next minute I wanted to pound them. Ms. Marchetto has the rare ability to invest the reader in the lives of the characters, their feelings, their attitudes and their beliefs. In the world of Kevin and Cordelia, love takes a back seat to their societal roles and Ms Marchetto does an excellent job of making the reader understand and experience the results of class restriction through the lives of the characters.
I eagerly await the next book of this exciting saga and recommend it to anyone who loves a unique story with characters who are as real as your next door neighbor.
As a writer, my ultimate goal is to express myself with my words and hope they touch someone. I will always give my best. Readers, please remember when you’re reading a book, short story, poem or any piece of work that touches you, that’s what makes it worth your time. Writers don’t make mistakes to offend or outrage. If I could give you perfection, I would. I know I try but my mistakes are a reminder that. . .
I AM HUMAN
Don’t read my book if you expect perfection,
You will be sorely disappointed.
If you want words written by a cold, unfeeling machine,
Read a book written by a software program.
I am human.
Flesh and blood,
I have feelings,
I am human.
I’m not perfect,
I am not sorry I “wasted” your time,
You got something more valuable,
A part of me,
I am human.
If you don’t like my words,
That’s your problem, not mine.
I will write, whether you read or not.
It’s who I am,
I am human.
A flawed diamond
Is still a diamond.
I know I’m a bit late, but a few weeks ago Americans everywhere celebrated Memorial Day. We sometimes forget while we’re enjoying our three day weekend that there are brave men and women who make daily sacrifices so that we may attend BBQs, the beaches or lakes to take in the sun and splash around in the waters, while they are protecting our nation. Let’s never forget we owe them our freedom.
I had the opportunity to welcome my daughter back from Iraq after her tour of duty. God watched over her while she was there and I thank Him everyday for her safe return. The day she came home, I went to Tallahassee to greet her and her unit. It was an emotional day and a day I will forever remember. A year long struggle with daily fears came to an end. I wrote a poem about that day and I would like to share it with you.
I hope you enjoy it. And as you read it, say a prayer for all the mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, sons and daughters who weren’t lucky enough to stand in the middle of Capitol Circle.
Jessica this is for you,
With Love and Pride!
Standing in the Middle of Capitol Circle
There I was standing in the middle of Capitol Circle
In its coal, black splendor.
Standing beside strangers,
In all shapes and sizes,
With a common goal,
To welcome home our loved ones
From a hot, dry distant land.
Thanks to the unforgiving sun,
Sweat played peek-a-boo,
Popping out on my forehead,
Holding my too-long thick hair hostage around my neck
And sneaking down my back in long tickling steams.
But even this misbehavior couldn’t dampen my joy,
Standing in the middle of Capitol Circle.
I carried my Red, White and Blue pride for all to see,
Catching cold, curious stares from motorists
Going who knows where.
The police halted traffic in the north bound lane,
To allow the patriotic pedestrians room,
To wave their flags, to throw their kisses,
To raise their voices and cheer,
Watching for the chartered chariots
To roll down Capitol Circle.
There I was standing in the middle of Capitol Circle,
Aching to wrap my arms around you,
To kiss your freckled cheeks,
To look into to your sweet brown eyes,
Wanting to hug you so tight we’d feel like one.
The tears were hiding behind my eyes,
Waiting for their cue,
Waiting for their first glimpse of you.
But I could not see you through the smoky, gray glass,
As the caravan drove past,
But I stood there anyway,
Waving and crying,
In the middle of Capitol Circle.
Happy April Fools’ Day to you all. I hope you’re having a happy and fun day. It’s been a while since I’ve shared with you. I thought in honor of the day, I would give you another installment of the Mysterious O’Malley Brothers. Winslow is having an interesting time. Read below for more. Have a great week and please jump in and add to the story. The more the merrier!
Muffled voices poked into Winslow’s consciousness like bees buzzing around his head. He tried to concentrate on the voices, but pain kept shooting through his head like lightening bolts. His throat burned but no less than his nostrils. It started to come back to him slowly. I got into a cab, except…except what? He couldn’t quite remember. He tried to open his eyes, but the light forced them shut again.
“I told you he was going to be trouble.” A deep voice said from a distance.
“I know what you told me; and I told you that we need him. At least for now. After we get what we came here for, then you can do with him what you please. But for now I call the shots. Don’t forget it.” A sultry female voice barked back.
Winslow’s feet and hands were bound together, like a pig ready for slaughter. He lay on a cold, damp, concrete floor with his back against a wall.
A gun, a cab and then something over my mouth. He pictured the events in his mind like a slide show. He had just left the hotel room where he left Niki sleeping peacefully. Beautiful Niki. I really have to end it with her. He just couldn’t bring himself to let her go.
He remembered the elevator; and the drop. Like clockwork. He was supposed to meet his brothers at the Dug Out. He hailed a cab. That’s where it all went wrong. He remembered the chloroformed rag pressing against his face.
This is a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into, Winslow. Now what?
“I think he’s coming to. Put him in that chair.” The woman ordered.
Someone with the strength of an ox pulled Winslow up by his arms. He staggered trying to gain his footing. He was pushed into a chair. The chair rocked as if it was about to topple over, but it steadied just in time.
Winslow felt a soft touch pulling his face toward the ceiling. He saw the silhouette of a female face against the light.
“Well, Mr. O’Malley, nice of you to join us. I trust you feel well.” The woman said sardonically.
“Who are you?” Winslow managed weakly.
“Ah, I’m hurt, Winslow. You don’t remember me?”
“You’ll forgive me, but I’m a little foggy at the moment. I can’t imagine why.” Winslow may have been weakened but his knack sarcasm was not.
“You’re a strong man, Winslow. This is just a temporary setback. You’ll be back to your old self in no time.”
Winslow’s eyes finally adjusted to the light. The woman came into focus. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He shook his head as if to clear his head. He had not recognized her voice, but he recognized her face. I must by hallucinating. She was dressed in a tight fitting black jumpsuit and high top leather boots. Her Angelina Jolie style outfit fit covered her perfect body like a coat of shiny paint. Her long black hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Her ruby red lips smiled at him and her deep brown eyes twinkled.
“Hi baby, it’s been a long time.” She leaned in a kissed him long and hard on the lips.
When she pulled away Winslow was speechless, which didn’t happen often. He starred at her in disbelief.
“Sasha? What are you doing inL.A.? What are you doing in the States?” And then as an afterthought. “Cut me loose!”
“What’s the matter, baby? Didn’t you find my little April Fools’ joke funny?”
“No. As a matter of fact, it kind of sucks. I have a killer ass headache, my body hurts from lying on the cold, hard floor and you made me miss an appointment with my brothers. So no. I don’t think it’s funny.”
“Cut him loose, Sam. He’s going to be a child.” She frowned and motioned for the burly ox to cut him free. Winslow stood and with one swift stroke Winslow’s hands were freed and then another quick swipe his feet were free as well. Winslow looked for blood, but was relieved to see none.
Winslow rubbed the circulation back into his wrists. He stared harshly at Sasha.
“I have to go. You little hoax is over, Sasha. Bye.” He started walking toward the door. Sasha caught him arm.
“Not so, fast, Winslow. We have some business to take care of first.”
“What business?” He asked as he turned back to her.
“I need something back you have of mine.”
“I don’t have anything that belongs to you.”
“Yes you do, baby. Remember Madrid?”
Winslow thought back to the year before when he was in Madrid. He smiled slowly as he remembered the hot nights and the long days on the yacht.
“Yes. I remember Madrid. What about it?”
“Do you remember cutting your foot on the reef? Do you remember it took a very long time to heal?”
Winslow thought back. He had cut his foot on a reef one day while snorkeling. He remembered Sasha tending to the wound. He remembered her tending to his other needs as well. He also remembered that the cut did seem to take an extraordinarily long time to heal.
“I remember. What about it?”
“Well, baby, there was a very good reason why your wound took so long to heal.” She walked to him and stood only inches away.
He felt the heat of her body as his body began to respond to her familiar closeness.
“Baby, this is going to hurt me as much as it is you, but we have to cut your foot open.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” He stepped back in shock at the words.
“There’s a microchip in your foot that I simply must have back.” Sasha closed the gap that Winslow had just put between them.
Sam walked up behind Winslow blocking his exit. Winslow glanced back and the reflection of the knife caught his attention.
I hope this is another April Fools’ joke.
A couple years ago I took a creative writing class, in hopes of improving myself as a writer. Fiction was my focus. Nothing else interested me. At the time, I was unaware that this was going to change.
Before the first class, the instructor informed us that poetry was going to be the main focus of the class. Fiction would only be touched on toward the end of the semester. I immediately wanted to withdraw from the class. I didn’t want to study poetry. I didn’t even like poetry!
I voiced my concerns to my instructor and she was very understanding. She shared with me that her first creative writing class focused primarily on poetry also. Luckily, her professor persuaded her to stick with the class. What she told me next made me decide to stay in her class as well.
She told me that studying poetry would make my fiction better. Simple as that. She had my undivided attention. She claimed writing poetry would make me choose more descriptive and powerful words, in order make the most impact with the fewest amount of words. The same is true with fiction. The cleaner and more concise your sentences, the clearer your writing will be.
I learned something else very surprising in the class. I do like poetry. I can even write descent poetry. In fact, my poetry has been included in anthologies. When one of my poems won 1st place in a contest, no one was more surprised then me. Fiction is still my first love, but poetry has a special place in my heart.
Below is a poem I wrote during the class. This poem was written from the persona of an angry, homeless man. Persona is Greek for mask. Persona poetry allows you to pretend to be someone else. I hope you like it.
Hey! What’d ya say?
I’ve been called worse,
Piece of shit,
Don’t mean a thang,
Yeah, I smell.
What’s it to ya?
Ya gonna take me home?
Let me take a bath at your house?
Didn’t think so.
So what…you give me a dolla,
Like it’s gonna help,
Can’t buy a stick of gum for that!
You try eatin on a buck.
Can’t do it, can ya?
Maybe I should get a job.
Who’s gonna hire me?
I could work for you,
Do odd jobs,
Rake your yard, take out your trash.
How ’bout it?
Face it. You’re not embarrassed by me.
You’re afraid of me,
Cause you know,
From being me.