Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Magno Girl book tour. Plus Review!



About the Book:

Title: Magno Girl
Author: Joe Canzano
Publisher: Happy Joe Control
Pages: 320
Genre: Comic Urban Fantasy
Format: Paperback/Kindle/Nook
Price: Paperback $9.89/Kindle $2.99/Nook $2.99


When a Manhattan pizza maker is found dead in his own dough, Magno Girl enlists the aid of her biker ninja boyfriend to help solve the crime – and quickly discovers there’s more to the pie than meets the eye, including a sinister plot that spans the globe.

Magno Girl leaps into action. After all, she can fly, she can fight, and she can use her fearsome superpower, the “Gaze of the Guilt,” to bring a hardened criminal to his knees. But the road ahead is hard. The city’s other superheroes despise her, and the cops don’t want her around, and her own mom won’t stop spitting out advice about marrying a “respectable guy” and trading in her crime-fighting career for a baby carriage—but is she attracted to “respectable guys”? And is she interested in emotional commitment? And will finding real love be her biggest challenge of all?

Welcome to the world of Magno Girl, an absurd place filled with humor, action, and romance.
For More Information


Magno Girl is available at Amazon.
Pick up your copy at Barnes & Noble.
Download at iTunes.
Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.

My Review
4/5
Magno girl is a super hero who is not appreciated very much. Everyone wants her to do something, but no one wants to know what she wants. 
I laughed so much through this book. I am not usually a big romance fan, but this one did not feel like a romance story, It was a fun action book with so romance. I found myself not able to put this book down and laughing randomly outloud. It is a great read, especially if you need a little comic relief in your life.


About the Author

Joe Canzano is a writer and musician. He lives in New Jersey, U.S.A., in a house with a basement where he usually stays. Occasionally he leaves the basement and visits the kitchen.

He is a graduate of Rutgers University, where he majored in English. His short stories have appeared in a half-dozen printed literary journals, as well as in the Akashic Books online series, "Mondays are Murder."

He recently formed his own publishing company, Happy Joe Control, and published his debut novel, Magno Girl.

For More Information


Visit Joe Canzano’s website.
Connect with Joe on Facebook and Twitter.
Find out more about Joe at Goodreads.
Visit Joe’s blog.
More books by Joe Canzano.
Contact Joe.

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Don't Hit Me Blog tour! Plus my review!




About the Book:

Title: Don’t Hit Me!
Author: Vanessa de Largie
Publisher: Booktrope
Pages: 88
Genre: Nonfiction/Memoir/Poetry/Journey
Format: Paperback/Kindle

#1 Amazon Bestseller
# Winner of the 2014 Global eBook Award Bronze (women’s studies)
# Winner of the 2014 Honourable Mention Award London Book Festival (memoir)
# Five-Star Review Midwest Book Review
# Five-Star Review San Francisco Book Review
# Five-Star Review #1 Amazon Hall of Fame Reviewer – UK
# 3 out of 4 stars Official Online Bookclub

Australian actress and author Vanessa de Largie is a survivor of domestic violence.
Don’t Hit Me is the true diarised account of her time living with an abusive man. The story is conveyed through poems, journal entries and fragments of lyrical prose. The book is a snapshot of domestic violence in real time. Raw, poignant and brave – it’s a tale that will stay with you.
For More Information


Don’t Hit Me! is available at Amazon.
Pick up your copy at Barnes & Noble.
Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.

 My Review
5/5
This is an amazing book. It is a journal of the authors time in an abusive relationship. It is a raw story of how she felt and was made feel. It is definitely something that after reading you spend time reflecting.
I really can not put into words this story. I know that this book is one that everyone needs to read.


About the Author

Vanessa de Largie is a multi-award-winning actress and author based in Australia. She was introduced into the world of make-believe when she was 3. Her mother was a film buff, who made her watch films from the 50's era. Her father, an avid reader and vinyl collector gave her a love of books and music. Combined, her parents influence allowed her to know early on, what she wanted to do with her life. At 22, Vanessa left her hometown of Perth for Melbourne and within a month, she had a lead role in a play at Melbourne's La Mama Theatre. Over the next decade, she would begin to hone her craft.

In 2006, Vanessa was cast in the lead role of Nocturne, Night of The Vampire, directed by prolific Melbourne film maker Bill Mousoulis. The film earned her the Best Female Actor Award at the 2007 Melbourne Underground Film Festival. The film was accepted into the main program of the Athens Film Festival, Cork Film Festival and the Brussels Fantastic Film Festival. Vanessa was flown over as a guest. (Nocturne, Night of The Vampire is now distributed by Troma.)


In 2009, Vanessa was cast as the lead in horror film Context, the film premiered at the Razor Reel Film Festival in Bruges, in which Vanessa flew over as a guest. Context is part of the extras on the American release of El Monstro Del Mar by Breaking Glass Pictures Distribution. (Unfortunately it isn't listed on the dvd's cover.)

Later in 2009, Vanessa was accepted into the New Actors Workshop in New York, run by famous film director - Mike Nichols (The Graduate.) On her return she worked on the film Crazy In The Night starring film director Frank Howson and Prisoner actors Tommy Dysart and Joan Brockenshire. Vanessa won a second Best Female Actor Award at the 2010 Melbourne Underground Film Festival for her leading role in the film.

In 2011, Vanessa was selected as a Victorian finalist in The Miss Pinup Australia Pageant, where she competed under the title Miss V-Bomb. She was given a spread in Beat Magazine as well as being interviewed by various Victorian newspapers.

In 2012, Vanessa became a freelance writer and mentor for Topic Media, writing over 90 lifestyle articles and winning many writing awards. That year, she was also commissioned by Australian publisher Hampress to write her erotic memoir Tantric Afternoons.

Tantric Afternoons launched in April 2013 to rave reviews. Vanessa followed the book's release with 4 more titles - Tough Choice, Powers At Play, Lascivious and her latest book, Don't Hit Me!

For More Information


Visit Vanessa de Largie’s website.
Connect with Vanessa on Facebook and Twitter.
Find out more about Vanessa at Goodreads.
Visit Vanessa’s blog.
More books by Vanessa de Largie.

Friday, August 21, 2015

Tyrant book Tour!



King and Pup are back in this exciting conclusion to the King Series by T.M. Frazier releasing August 17th!

NOW AVAILABLE





Blurb 

I. Remember. Everything.

Only now I wish I didn’t.

When the fog is sucked away from my mind like smoke through a vacuum, the truth that has been beyond my reach for months finally reveals itself.

But the relief I thought I would feel never comes, and I’m more afraid now than I was the morning I woke up handcuffed in King’s bed.

Because with the truth comes dark secrets I was never meant to know.

I will put the lives of those I love most at risk if I let on that my memory has returned, or if I seek help from the heavily tattooed felon who owns me body and soul.

I don’t know if I’m strong enough to resist the magnetic pull toward King that grows stronger every day.

He’s already saved me in more ways than one. Now it’s my turn to do whatever it takes to save him.

Even if that means marrying someone else…


Excerpt 

King snarled. “You seem to have forgotten who the fuck I am, Pup. So I'm going to remind you.” He pressed his hips against mine. “I'm the man who took you against your will and handcuffed you to my fucking bed. I'm the man who wanted you, so I fucking kept you." He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you really think you have a choice when it comes to being mine?"

King lifted me onto the dresser and pushed himself between my legs, forcing my legs apart. He held my wrists behind my back forcing my shoulders backwards and pushing my chest into his. My dress rode up to the tops of my thighs. King pushed a strand of hair behind my ears and leaned in to me, his lips just a breath away from mine. The room was getting hot. I couldn't breathe. I needed...I don't know what I needed. "No more questions."

I opened my mouth to argue. "Stop fucking talking," he snapped.

King lifted me off the dresser and carried me and set me down in front of the full-length mirror that hung on the closet door. He stood behind me. A head taller than me and outweighing me by a hundred pounds, our differences had never been more obvious. His dark jeans and dark tank top were a stark contrast to my little white eyelet sundress. My pale skin next to his tanned. My white hair to his black. It was a sight that made my knees weak. Because although the reflection in the mirror made our differences obvious, it also made me see how well the two fit together.



Haven’t read this series yet? 

Meet King & Pup in King (Book One)




Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1B7H73R

About the Author


T.M. (Tracey Marie) Frazier resides in sunny Southwest Florida with her husband and three feisty fur kids.

She attended Florida Gulf Coast University where she specialized in public speaking. After years working in real estate and new home construction, she decided it was finally time to stop pushing her dreams to the back burner and pursue writing seriously.

In the third grade she wrote her very first story about a lost hamster. It earned rave reviews from both her teacher and her parents.

It only took her twenty years to start the next one.

It will not be about hamsters.

Stalk Her: Website, Facebook, Twitter, Amazon, and Goodreads.

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Wednesday, August 19, 2015

The Wraith of Carters Mill Book Blitz with my Review



Review Blitz

WCMx-FrontCover-v06-Final-09.Mar.15

Book Title: The Wraith of Carter's Mill 
Author: C. Evenfall 
Genre: Paranormal/Suspense 
Release Date: March 8, 2015 
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

Goodreads Button with Shadow 

  Book Blurb

"The Wraith of Carter’s Mill" chronicles five generations of women from the turn of the century to present day. It depicts in startling detail the result of an old curse and the wraith that haunts the family. "Sensitives", "The Guardians" and "The Forgotten" tell the tale while the fourth shocking segment, "Carter’s Mill" provides the back-story. It reveals the shameful truth behind a century of sorrow and the curse of revenge that plagues the Carter women.

Zeb, the Carter family patriarch, is a hard, callous man. He runs his thriving sawmill, farm and family with an iron fist. When he commits an incredible act of cruelty, he ignorantly brings a terrible curse down upon all his kin. Martha Thompsons’ prophecy proves true as the family falls into ruin, and the women pay the price.

Almost a century after Zeb’s death, a Carter daughter is born with notable yet uncanny gifts. It will be up to Shyanne to unearth a long buried family secret and set an old wrong back to rights. Will she find a way to lift the curse and banish the accursed wraith that haunts her? If she fails, she risks losing her own little girl to the dark entity forever.

A small North Carolina community, where everyone knows everyone sets the perfect stage for this suspenseful drama. Rich in history and southern culture, The Wraith of Carter’s Mill harkens back to a time when life was simpler, and superstition was part of everyday living.

4/5
This book is the first 4 short stories in one. The stories are so good. You actually feel like you are transported. 3 of the stories talk about the curse and how it has affected the family. What the curse is and all about the wraith. Carter's Mil is the story that talks about how the curse came about. Then you learn about how the family plans on saving the youngest daughter who is born with some special gifts. They have to save her before the curse gets her.
I could not put these stories down. Everything is set perfectly and keeps you from feeling frustrated and confuse. Make sure you read these is you love stories about ld family curses! 


  excerpt

Part 1

Dancing With Chance

Mercy fastened the buttons of her blouse while Boyd languished on the soft pile of scattered wheat straw in the corner, watching her. The warm glow of the lamplight reflecting off her loose, long wavy blonde hair as it cascaded to her waist created an illusion of innocence, perfection. She looks just like an angel he thought as he admired her the way he often did in these moments following their intimacy. He loved to look at her, loved doing things with her, but he had no delusions about her imperfection, her lack of innocence. That was what made these moments so fascinating to him. No matter how many times they did this, he was always stunned by the way, she looked like something so opposite of her true self.

His brother Mark warned, “Mercy Carter’s dangerous. She’s like a big gulp of moonshine, hot and burnin’ like fire on the way down but soothin’ and good feelin’ once you get passed the bite. By then it’s too late ‘cause you’re drunk.” Boyd was intoxicated by her, of that he had no doubt, but he did not love her. Being with Mercy was an adventure, and it did not hurt matters that she was both beautiful and dangerous. There was not a lot of adventuring a young man his age could do in Carter’s Mill.

Her clothes situated, Mercy ran her fingers through her hair, fishing out errant pieces of straw.

“You’re sure nobody saw you sneak out of the house?” Boyd asked for the second time that night.

Mercy Carter rolled her eyes and wheeled to face him. “Yes, I’m sure. Patience woke up as I was leavin’ but I just told her I was goin’ to the privy. Stop worryin’ so much. Besides, like I told you, this is the last time anyway.”

Boyd swiftly reached up, grabbing her hand; he pulled her back down on the straw with him. He kissed her clumsily and said, “It don’t have to be you know. Nobody ever comes down here at night, nobody knows about us and what we do here.”

Annoyed, Mercy pulled away and Boyd fell back in the straw. She angrily brushed the straw from her skirt and pushed her arm through the sleeve of her coat. “It doesn’t have to be the last time, but it is the last time.”

Boyd groaned, he was growing weary of Mercy’s games. If it was true this time, it was probably for the best. He had plans to propose to Lora Grisham on Christmas day anyway. Boyd tried hard not to think about Lora when he was with Mercy. The girl he loved was as chaste as fresh fallen snow and he intended to keep her that way until their wedding night. The ring he ordered form Montgomery Ward arrived the week before so all he needed to do now was wait for the big day.

His trysts with Mercy satisfied a baser need, a side of himself that Lora had never nor would ever see. Lora would be his wife, the mother of his babies and keeper of his house. He would be kind to her, patient with her and would protect her for a lifetime. Yes, this has to end.

Finished buttoning her coat, Mercy glared down at him irritably, hands on hips. “Well? Are you goin’ to walk me to the edge of the woods or are you gonna lie there and let me go by myself?”

Boyd sighed, rose and fastened his pants. Reaching for his coat he said, “Of course I’ll walk you through the woods Mercy. Why do you have to talk to me like that? You always act like you’re mad at me or somethin’ afterward. ”

Mercy huffed with frustration, “Oh stop bein’ a baby Boyd! You know I gotta get home before Mama gets up!”

Boyd opened the smokehouse door slightly; peeking out to make sure no one was about before stepping through the doorway. Satisfied they were still alone, he turned to Mercy. “Kill that lantern, the moon is almost full, we can see fine without it.”

Mercy joined him outside and handed him the dark lantern to carry. As they had done many nights before, they made their way in silence. The path that led through Carter’s woods and into Mercy’s back yard was long. The loud snap of a twig stopped them both short.

“What was that?” whispered Mercy.

Boyd scanned the edge of the woods nervously, “Probably just a coon or something,” he assured her.

They took a few more steps and heard the noise again. Mercy grabbed Boyd’s arm nervously, her heart pounding in her ears. “Somebody is coming,” Mercy whispered frantically.

“Sshhh,” Boyd hissed as he listened closely, standing a still as possible. Hanging onto Boyd’s arm, Mercy was about to squeeze off the circulation. Boyd shook her off it and continued to listen. The footsteps were clearer now, there was nowhere to hide. Running would just draw more attention; all he could do was wait for the source of the noise to come out into the open.

Boyd was overcome with relief when a stranger stepped out into the clearing. He let out a long breath, realizing that he had been holding it. He was a mountain of a man, tall and broad. He wore no hat. His long black hair, divided neatly into two braids, draped neatly across his shoulders and down his barrel chest. The coat he wore was covered with so many patches it was impossible to determine its color. The knees of his pants were the same. His arms were laden with deadfall of various sizes. The huge bundle looked tiny in his arms. Boyd had never seen this man before, which meant the man would not know either of them.

“Hold up there! Who goes there?” Boyd’s voice boomed with as much authority as he could muster.

The man started and stopped, surprised to see them. “My name is Samson, Jake Samson. I’m just passing through. I’ll be leavin’ in the mornin’.”

“You fixin’ to build you a fire? You plan to spend the night?” Boyd asked.

“I am. Snared a rabbit, gonna cook it and eat it. Sleep a couple of hours then I’ll be on my way.” Jake answered.

“Yeah well, it’s probably for the best if you just keep passin’. This here is Carter land and you got no business here.” Boyd said.

Mercy clung to Boyd’s arm for dear life. Hiding half her face behind him, she peered out at the stranger. “Let’s go Boyd,” she whispered loudly through clenched teeth.

The stranger, undaunted by Boyd’s warning, asked, “Are you the Carter what owns this land?”

Mercy’s mouth fell open in shock. She felt Boyd pull himself up as tall as he would go. He stammered, “No… but I work for Mr. Carter and if he finds you here in the mornin’, he’ll have plenty to say about it, you can be sure ‘bout that.”

The stranger walked closer and casually dropped his load. The dead rabbit swayed from a string on his belt. “Well, he’s not likely to find me here come mornin’, I’ll be movin’ on at daybreak,” Samson answered without looking up from the task of breaking off twigs for kindling.

Mercy whispered nervously, “Leave him be Boyd, let’s go.”

Boyd, unwilling to walk away without having the last word, found his nerve and stated sternly, “I’m sure Mr. Carter ain’t gonna take too kindly to you huntin’ on his property neither.”

Samson pulled the dead rabbit free of his belt. “Ain’t huntin’ on his land. Caught this rabbit in a snare I set at last night’s camp.” The stranger, obviously not unsettled by Boyd in the least, stared back.

“Well, you just see that you’re gone by morning,” Boyd warned.

The stranger did not respond, nor did he concede the warning, but he pulled the hide from the rabbit without taking his eyes from Boyd’s. Mercy, still crouched behind Boyd, pushed him back toward the path. “Let’s go,” she hissed.

Boyd pulled his eyes from the stranger and led Mercy to the path as quickly as he could without running. Finally, out of the stranger’s sight, he shook Mercy free of his arm once more. “Let go of me! God, you were squeezin’ the life out of my arm back there. Since when are you scared of anybody? What’s the matter with you?”

Bumping into the stranger had unnerved them both. It was a close call. He did not mean to snap at Mercy so harshly, but he knew that had one of the Carter boys caught him out here with their sister, there would have been hell to pay. She is right, we can’t do this anymore.

After reaching a safe distance from the stranger, Mercy asked, “What if he tells? What if he tells somebody he saw us out here? What if he knows what we were doing in the smokehouse?”

“So what if he knows? I doubt he got a good look at you anyhow the way you were hiding behind my arm. Who’s he gone tell? I didn’t give him my name and he doesn’t know either one of us. He’ll be gone before the sun comes up.” Boyd answered.

Mercy took a deep breath and calmed herself. Boyd was right; her nerves were just on edge from all this sneakin’ out at night. She had said it before but she meant it this time, this would be her last night with Boyd Smith.

  Praise


K.C. Finn of Reader’s Favorite 
…The Wraith of Carter’s Mill, is very much a family-saga style tale of births, marriages and deaths through the generations.

…when supernatural and suspenseful moments occur, readers are swept away in their seeming realism. 
…There is great authenticity in the historical atmosphere and attention to detail that author C. Evenfall gives to the stories. 
Michelle Randall of Reader’s Favorite 
…C. Evenfall mixes a ghost story, and a story of revenge and betrayal all together with a family saga that sees five generations of Carters deal with the dark man.
…compelling…pulled me along the whole way. 
Kathleen B. (Independent proofreader & copy-editor. Worked for your publisher imKY to proofread WCMx. Comments from Kathleen were unprompted and unpaid.) 
This is a story that cannot be put down easily. 
Evenfall is a true storyteller with great depth. 
...extremely engaging style with wonderful character development, which is also stealthily revealed.
Book Trailer

 
Meet the Author
C. Evenfall 1

C. Evenfall grew up in a small fishing village in Eastern North Carolina. The area was rich with history, ghost stories and unexplained phenomenon; all fodder for the vivid imaginings of a young girl. She began “collecting” stories at a young age.

At aged six, C. Evenfall experienced the paranormal firsthand and has been seeking answers ever since. Her fascination with the unexplainable and her love for old family ghost stories inspired her to write a collection of novellas. Each inspired by the experiences passed down through her family for generations.

C. Evenfall resides on the Carolina Coast with her husband, a self-proclaimed skeptic. She loves him anyway and the two complement each other perfectly.

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Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Spotlight for Vows to the Fallen

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      About The Book 

   Vows To The Fallen   


Title: Vows to the Fallen
Author: Larry Laswell
Publisher: Marshell Publishing
Publication Date: August 14, 2015
Format: Paperback - 277 pages / eBook  / PDF
ISBN: 978-0986385322
Genre: Historical Fiction / Military / Sea Story


Buy The Book:
Publication Date: August 14, 2015
Pre-Order The Book: July 1, 2015

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Vows-Fallen-Marathon-Larry-Laswell-ebook/dp/B0106PWBNC/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1436205494&sr=1-1&keywords=vows+to+the+fallen
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Goodreads:


Discuss this book in our PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads by clicking HERE


Book Description:


Vows to the Fallen
An Officer’s Journey Through Guilt and Grief
Another techno-thriller from the author of The Marathon Watch

August 9, 1942, 01:42 hours
USS Green on patrol off Red Beach, Guadalcanal
Bridge Officer: Lieutenant Patrick O’Toole

Lieutenant O’Toole’s goal is simple: someday he wants to become an admiral. But in a few moments, his life will change . . . forever. Yesterday, the marines stormed the beaches of Guadalcanal. Today, the Japanese Navy will strike back. The sudden and horrific carnage scars O’Toole for life and throws him into the abyss of survivor’s guilt and posttraumatic stress.

The Pacific War does not wait for O’Toole to heal. Duty calls, each new assignment brings more responsibility, and the roll call of the fallen grows. At the Battle of Mujatto Gulf, O’Toole faces a superior battle-hardened Japanese fleet and discovers the strength within him to climb from the abyss and find his true life’s mission. To the fallen, he vows never to abandon that mission no matter how high the cost.
 

Book Excerpt:

Chapter 1

August 8, 1942, 2346 Hours
USS Green; 45 nautical miles northwest of Red Beach, Guadalcanal

Lieutenant Patrick O’Toole considered himself a career naval officer, and someday he hoped to be promoted to admiral. At Annapolis, his teachers had taught him the horrors of war, but he had never experienced combat. That was about to change and it would change him forever.

The steel ladder rattled as he clambered to the wheelhouse deck to assume the midwatch. On the wheelhouse deck, the port fifty-caliber gunner slouched with his back to the sea and chatted with the lookout on the flying bridge one level above. The helmsman faced the starboard bridge wing and had but one hand on the wheel. Dim red lights above the chart table and the polished brass compass binnacle added little illumination to the wheelhouse, and the men, gray smudges in the dark, seemed unconcerned. O’Toole’s concern bordered on anger, but he remained silent.

Find out what’s going on then fix it.

A man on the flying bridge lit a cigarette. This was way out of bounds. “Snuff your butt. The enemy can see that for miles,” O’Toole said, hoping his voice had a bark to it.

O’Toole had seen this before. Captain Levitte ran a relaxed ship, but this wasn’t peacetime. They were at war in enemy waters. O’Toole read the message dispatches, the captain’s night orders, and the chart. None of it good news, especially the report of a Japanese battlegroup headed south.

He located Lieutenant Karl, the officer of the deck on the port bridge wing. Karl’s life jacket vest was open, revealing a sweat-soaked khaki shirt, and sweat beaded on his brow.

Karl slouched on the bridge railing as O’Toole approached “What’s your status?” O’Toole asked.


Karl rubbed his day-old stubble. “At Condition III. Fire in all four boilers. Superheat lit, and the plant is cross-connected. Starboard steering motor, port steering engine” Karl droned as he went through the standard litany of the watch change. “On course zero-seven-zero at ten knots. Straight line patrol between points Able and Baker on the chart as per the captain. You have about ten minutes before you turn around and head back to point Baker. Received a report of Japanese ships headed south five hours ago. Told the captain, and he said Intel couldn’t tell the difference between a cruiser and a sampan. Besides, nothing will happen before dawn. Aircraft overhead, told the captain, he says they’re from our carriers. That, and the captain said to cut the crew some slack; they’re tired. I just ordered the cooks to make a fresh batch of coffee; you’re gonna need it. That’s about it.”
“Why aren’t we zigzagging?”

“Captain’s orders. Straight line patrol between points Able and Baker is what he wanted.”

“With an enemy force headed south we should be at Condition II at least.”

“I don’t know about that, but the captain wants to give the crew some rest.”

“Do we have star shells loaded or at the ready?”

“No.”

“Which gun mounts are manned?”

“Mounts 51 and 55.”

“Only two?”

“Yes, and before you ask, one-third of the anti-aircraft batteries are manned, and I told those gun crews they could sleep at their stations.”

“Are the crews in Mounts 51 and 55 asleep?”

“Probably.”

Out of professional courtesy, O’Toole didn’t challenge Karl, even though he would have been justified in refusing to relieve Karl of the watch until Karl corrected the battle readiness of the ship.

O’Toole saluted Lieutenant Karl and said, “I relieve you, sir.”

Karl nodded. “This is Mister Karl, Mister O’Toole has the deck and the conn,” Karl said to the bridge crew.

“This is Mister O’Toole, I have the deck and the conn,” O’Toole replied.

Karl handed O’Toole his life jacket, helmet, and gun belt and walked to the small chart table in the forward port section of the wheelhouse to complete his log entries. O’Toole brushed back his flaming red hair and put on the helmet, life jacket, and gun making sure all straps were cinched tight.

“Boats, over here,” O’Toole said to the boatswain mate of the watch as he headed to the starboard bridge wing. It was a lazy night: clear sky, high overhead clouds, calm sea, a slight breeze, and the ship plodding forward at ten knots. A night like this could dull the senses of the best of men. He couldn’t let that happen.

“Boats, square your watch away. We are in enemy waters, and there are reports of a column of Jap cruisers headed our way. I want everyone on their toes.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Messenger, over here,” O’Toole said, beckoning the watch messenger.

“Go below and wake up the chiefs and tell them there are enemy ships in the area. I want them to make sure their watches are alert and ready. Tell the gunnery chief I want him on the bridge.”

“Yes, sir,” the messenger said and headed for the ladder.

A few minutes later, the gunnery chief appeared barefooted and in a white T-shirt. “Yes, sir, you wanted to see me?”

“Jap ships are headed our way. Check your gun crews; I want them alert with their eyes to the sea. Bring six star shells to the ready with one round in the mount. If we come under fire, I want Mount 51 to fire three star shells in a 180-degree spread without orders from the bridge.”

“What’s up, sir?”

“Not sure, chief, except we are in dangerous waters and the crew is asleep.”

“Will do, sir. Should I stay with the gun crews?”

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea, chief. Do what you think is best, but be aware things might get worse at dawn.”

“Yes, sir.” The chief trotted to the ladder and disappeared.

Lieutenant Karl finished his log entries and left the bridge. O’Toole stood next to the quartermaster at the chart table in the forward port section of the wheelhouse. He retrieved the sighting report. Five Japanese cruisers and four destroyers headed south at thirty knots. O’Toole plotted the ten-hour-old sighting location on the chart and walked the dividers across the chart to estimate the current location of Japanese forces. They would have passed the Green an hour ago and would now be on top of the northern defense line around Red Beach.

The receding drone of an aircraft off the port bow caught his ear. They were too far from the Japanese airbase at Rabaul for them to have planes this far south at night. It didn’t make sense: he didn’t think the carrier aircraft could operate at night, but spotter planes from a cruiser could.

Nothing had happened. Maybe the Japanese column had slowed or diverted. Naval doctrine taught officers to avoid night attacks since it complicated the battle, and everyone knew you couldn’t shoot at an enemy hiding in the darkness. Still, everything added up to a night counterattack against the Guadalcanal invasion force.

“Get the captain up here on the double. I’ll be on the flying bridge,” O’Toole said the watch messenger.

He felt better on the flying bridge where he had an unobstructed view of the sea and sky. He swept the horizon with his binoculars: nothing but a black night.

The crew was exhausted from the invasion of Guadalcanal the prior morning. The shirtless bodies of a hundred sleeping men escaping the oppressive heat and humidity of their berthing spaces lay on the dark main deck. Not regular navy, O’Toole thought, but he couldn’t object because the crew needed the sleep.

“What’s up, Pat?” Captain Levitte asked as soon as his head popped above the flying bridge deck level.

“I think we have trouble, Captain. The Japanese column sighted in the intelligence report should be on top of the northern defense line right about now. We should be at general quarters or at least Condition II and be zigzagging. There could be subs in the area.”

Levitte rubbed the back of his neck, then put his hands in his pockets, and walked in a tight circle with his eyes on the deck. “Look, the Japs aren’t that smart, and you should know not even the Japs are dumb enough to attack at night. Nothing will happen until the sun comes up. In the meantime, cut the crew some slack; they’re tired and need their sleep.”

“I’m sorry, Captain, but that doesn’t make sense. The sighting said the Japs were at thirty knots. They wouldn’t do that and then slow down to wait for the sun to come up.”

“No matter what happens we’ll kick their ass,” Levitte began. “We kicked their ass in the Coral Sea and Midway. Now we’re kicking their ass off Guadalcanal. The marines ran the Jap garrison into the jungle before lunch. They can’t stand up to us no matter what, so there’s no reason to get worked up about it.”

“To be safe, let me take the ship to Condition II and zigzag. It won’t hurt anything.”

“No, lieutenant. My night orders said to cut the crew some slack, and there is no need to waste fuel zigzagging. You read my night orders, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Follow them, and let me get some sleep.”

The shirtless lookout stiffened. “Sir, light flashes, port beam.”

Both men turned. Staccato bursts of light above the southern horizon illuminated the sky.

Another voice called out, “Flares off the port beam.”

The night erupted. White-golden flashes close to port blinded O’Toole. Captain Levitte’s chest exploded into a mist of blood. Shells exploded against the mast, and men dove to the deck.

On his stomach, O’Toole fought his life jacket as he rolled to the starboard edge of the deck. Crawling under the railing, he let himself over the side. He was about to let himself drop the last three feet when a jolt catapulted him to the deck below. His head hit the deck, and despite his cinched helmet, the blow stunned him to the precipice of unconsciousness. O’Toole fought to bring himself back to the present as he wobbled to a crouched position.

Concussions from explosions aft the wheelhouse punched at his chest and abdomen. He had to go through the wheelhouse to the port side to see the enemy ship. In the wheelhouse, only the quartermaster was up, crouching in the corner by the chart table. Sparks and flashes of incoming fire covered the aft bulkhead and enveloped the wheelhouse in smoke, shrapnel, and debris. Broken, screaming bodies littered the deck.

He fought his way through the wheelhouse across shattered glass that slid like ice across the blood-drenched deck. The Green’s guns hadn’t returned fire.

He turned to find the phone talker. A flash memory of the phone talker’s body falling next to the captain made him stop. The phone talker was dead along with most of the bridge crew. He was alone; he had no bridge crew, and there was no one left to command. To anyone who could hear, he yelled, “Tell the gun crews to return fire.”

On the port bridge wing, he peered over the railing. A thousand yards away, two searchlights blinded him, and a torrent of tracer fire arched toward the Green. Muzzle flashes from the enemy ship’s heavy guns ripped at the darkness, and spasmodic explosions on the Green followed each flash.

On his stomach looking aft, he tried to understand the hell erupting around him. Black smoke spewed from golden fires, and smoke boiled across the fantail near the depth charge racks. Antiaircraft rounds raked the Green’s main deck, tearing men apart; the lucky ones leapt overboard.

In the forward boiler room, the port bulkhead ruptured three feet below the waterline in a flash of light, wrenching the keel. Shrapnel pierced the two Babcock & Wilcox boilers, which exploded upward, shredding the main deck overhead. A half-second later, a second explosion severed the keel, and a third tore the shattered hull of the Green in two.

Sheets of water vaulted into the air, and the explosions pushed the Green hard to starboard and lifted it upward in a death spasm.

Torpedoes. The word lingered in O’Toole’s mind until he understood, then it vanished. He pulled himself to his feet. Ruptured boilers roared beneath clouds of steam.

The Green hinged aft the deckhouse. The stern rose and began its slide beneath the surface. When the cool seawater reached the aft boilers they blew a ten-foot mound of white water to the surface. The mound collapsed into a steam haze low above the water. As the first wisps of steam dissipated, they dragged O’Toole from his stupor.

The gunfire stopped. The searchlights were gone. Screams, moans, and the sound of rushing water welled up to fill the silence. He strained his eyes for an enemy invisible in the night. They had vanished. The battle was over.

There was no time for thinking or words; the conclusions flashed through his mind fully formed.
When the armed depth charges on the sinking fantail detonated, anyone in the water would suffer intestinal hemorrhaging and a slow, excruciating death.

To the men below he yelled, “Stay with the ship! Don’t go in the water; depth charges! Get everyone in the water back aboard!”

O’Toole took inventory. The forward part of the ship, though sinking, seemed stable. The wheelhouse was a confusing mass of shadows cut against golden fires, and the smell of blood and noxious nitrate gasses filled his head.

He entered the wheelhouse and stumbled. His knee landed on something soft. He looked down at the chest of a headless body. O’Toole’s stomach wrenched.

A figure appeared. “Sir, we took three torpedoes. No water pressure to fight the fires, no power, and we are flooding forward.”

One by one the sinking depth charges designed to sink submarines began to detonate, sending tremors from each concussive blow through the ship. When the explosions stopped, O’Toole took a deep breath, and the acid-laced air burned his lungs. “Get below. Pass the word to abandon ship.”

O’Toole turned his attention to the main deck, and released the one remaining life raft stored just below the bridge railing. Not waiting for orders, shirtless survivors leapt overboard. It seemed to take hours, but soon the decks were empty and the survivors were off the ship. With nothing left to do, he wondered if radio managed to send a message. He doubted it. He turned to the quartermaster and said, “Let’s go.”

The quartermaster collected the ship’s logs and joined O’Toole.

As he prepared to jump the last ten feet into the ocean, the quartermaster yelled, “Stop! Your helmet, sir.”

O’Toole had forgotten he was wearing it. Going overboard with a cinched helmet would break your neck. He tore it off, and they jumped together.

There was no past and no future, only the immediate need to survive. O’Toole swam from the sinking bow section, demanding his muscles move faster before her sinking hulk sucked him under. His muscles grew tired from the frenzied effort until a voice yelled, “She’s going down.”

He stopped and turned to what remained of the Green. Out of breath, he bobbed in the one-foot swells and coughed to clear the salt water from his lungs. The Green’s prow swung skyward while the hulk of the remaining bow section backed into the depths. The sea extinguished the fires as she slid under.

She died a silent death. After the tip of the bow disappeared, his eyes lost focus and he stared at the empty sea for several seconds, unable to grasp the meaning of this moment.

He linked up with a small group of survivors, and they linked up with other groups. They located two floater nets, lashed them together, and placed the injured in them. They found several of the watertight powder canisters used to protect the five-inch brass powder casings while in the magazines. The crew used empty canisters to stow stable dry food and water with the floater nets. He ordered several men to attract scattered survivors by yelling into the night.

At first, groups of four would swim toward them. Now an occasional lone survivor would show up. O’Toole gathered the surviving officers and chief petty officers. The group of seven rolled with the lazy sea, clutching the floater net to stay together. Three wore life jackets; the other four relied on the floater net.

“Someone said there is another group with a floater net south of us.” Pointing to Ensigns Carter and Fitch, O’Toole said, “Swim to the south floater net, if there is one, take a count, and tell them to swim their way to us and lash-in. While you’re at it, round up volunteers to scavenge for debris we can use. The men should also collect all the powder canisters and bring them here.”

Turning to Chief Brandon, he said, “Make sure the injured are wearing life jackets, and get those with serious wounds in the floater nets.” Brandon swam off.

To Ensigns Parker and Adbury, he said, “You two make the rounds and get a head count of the healthy, injured, and critically wounded. After you report back, take charge of the injured. Collect the morphine ampules from the crew.” O’Toole reached into his trouser pocket and handed over two morphine ampules. “Bring the wounded together, especially those with bleeding wounds. Get them in the floater nets and get the bleeding stopped; the sharks will show up soon enough.”

To Chief Zies, O’Toole said, “Chief, make the rounds, talk to everyone, and make sure their heads are on straight. Find anyone who might lose it and buddy them up with someone. We don’t want panic or men going nuts.”

Chief Zies swam off, and O’Toole reached underwater to remove his shoes. He tied the laces together and draped them over his neck.

Chief Zies made his rounds and returned to O’Toole’s position.

“You get a head count yet?” O’Toole asked.

“My count is fifty-seven, including you.”

“Just fifty-seven?”

“Lieutenant, the aft two-thirds of the ship sank like a rock. From the time the Japs attacked to the time the stern sank wasn’t more than a minute. I’m surprised we have this many left.”

O’Toole’s chest went hollow, and his mind went blank. Visions of shattered bodies and blood-soaked decks, the sound of dying men flashed through his mind. His gut radiated the hollowness of failure.
The dark corners of his mind whispered, “You’ll never be the same.”

“Three-fourths of the crew is missing,” O’Toole said.

“There has to be more out there,” Zies said.

“Yeah, there has to more out there,” O’Toole said.

As the deck officer, he was responsible for the safety of the ship and crew.

He had scanned the horizon, and he had jacked up the lookouts and the bridge crew. It hadn’t been enough. Either way it was his responsibility. It takes three minutes to get a torpedo firing solution, and one zigzag might have destroyed their firing solution and saved the ship. He hadn’t seen his options; the wall had blocked him again. His grandfather’s words stabbed at him.

You’re not adequate.

It was the story of his life; he always fell short of adequacy. There was always one more thing he might have done, but he could never see it until it was too late. The wall was always there to stop him and hide the solution. His wall had damned him to failure again. The wall was always there blocking his way a single step short of success.

Ensign Parker swam over to him. “Got the head count. Fifty-seven men. Twenty-one wounded. Six critical. That includes the south floater net we got lashed-in.”

“We’ll wait till dawn to find the others,” Zies said. “What the heck happened, sir?”

“Wish I knew,” O’Toole began. “A column of Jap ships were headed to Guadalcanal to counterattack. I suspect they left a destroyer behind to ambush us once the fight off Guadalcanal started.”

“That means they spotted us, but how did that happen without us seeing them?” Zies asked.

“That part is easy. We weren’t looking, but I still can’t figure out how we missed them once we did start looking. I should have zigzagged despite the captain’s orders.”

Zies looked at O’Toole for a long minute. “You’re not blaming yourself for this, are you?”

O’Toole didn’t answer.

“Are you?”

The question tore at O’Toole, but he had to look forward, and swore the wall would not stop him. “For now, we’re not losing any more men, Chief. Keep the men together. They’ll start looking for survivors tomorrow; they’ll find us.” O’Toole said.

Voices shouted. Zies turned. A searchlight from an approaching ship probed the surrounding sea. When it reached the far end of the floater nets, gunfire erupted. Spikes of water shot up around the Green’s survivors.

Both O’Toole and Zies screamed, “Everyone down!”

O’Toole shed his life jacket, took a deep breath, and dove. He figured five feet would be enough. He pivoted his feet beneath him and tried to maintain his depth. When the burning in his lungs became unbearable, he kicked hard to reach the surface. When his head cleared the water, he sucked in a chest of air, preparing to dive again, but the gunfire stopped.

The searchlight now centered itself on his small group, and a Japanese heavy cruiser loomed over them. With his hand, he blocked the searchlight so he could see the bridge. He studied the bridge and a man with a patch over his left eye. By his position on the bridge wing, his carriage, and the separation between him and the other officers, O’Toole guessed he was the captain.

They locked eyes. Neither man flinched. After several seconds, the Japanese captain walked away. The cruiser picked up speed and disappeared into the night.

Zies asked O’Toole, “What was going on between you and the guy with the eye patch?”

“I wanted the bastard to know we weren’t defeated,” O’Toole began. “The Japs won this battle not with equipment but with smarter officers and sharper training. How they pulled it off was brilliant: at night, torpedoes first, guns second, no star shells. They mauled us with their guns, but knew that wouldn’t sink us. Once the Jap ship saw the torpedoes hit, there was no need to continue a gun battle and endanger their ship; they knew they had sunk us, so they vanished into the night.”

O’Toole shook his head; he would have to figure out what happened later; he put it out of his mind.
“Okay, Chief, have the men with life jackets chain up. Make sure they lash in each chain to a floater net. As you make the rounds, make sure everyone is secure for the night. By God, we’re not losing any more men.”

“Aye, sir.” Zies swam away, yelling, “Everyone chain up and lash in!”

Men formed spiral chains. One man would loop his arm through the hole below the high collar of the next man’s life jacket, burying the arm to the shoulder. The chains provided security, extra buoyancy, and a way to sleep without drifting away.



About The Author
   

    Larry Laswell    


Larry Laswell served in the US Navy for eight years. In navy parlance, he was a mustang, someone who rose from the enlisted ranks to receive an officer’s commission. While enlisted, he was assigned to the USS John Marshall SSBN-611 (Gold Crew). After earning his commission, he served as main engines officer aboard the USS Intrepid CV-11. His last assignment was as a submarine warfare officer aboard the USS William M. Wood DD-715 while she was home ported in Elefsis, Greece.

In addition to writing, Larry, a retired CEO fills his spare time with woodworking and furniture design. He continues to work on The Marathon Watch series, an upcoming science fiction series titled The Ethosians, and an anthology of over eighty humorous sea stories titled A Ship-load of Sea Stories & 1 Fairy Tale.

You can visit Larry Laswell’s website at www.larrylaswell.com

Connect with Larry Laswell: 

Author Blog:  larrylaswell.com/blog 

     

Poetry Contest

Win a dinner for two, a night on the town, or whatever you want to do with $250!

Enter Larry Laswell’s Vows to the Fallen Poetry Contest!

Pre-release sales of Vows to the Fallen will begin on July 1, 2015 for release on August 14th. One of the characters in the book has a habit of reciting excerpts from classic poems. If you are the first to correctly name all of the poems you win! $150 for second place and $100 for third place.

Here are the rules:
1. Order Vows to the Fallen in Amazon’s Kindle store.
2. At midnight (EST) download Vows to the Fallen and read it to find the poetry excerpts.
3. Leave a review on Amazon (How you rate the book has no bearing on your eligibility to win.)
3. Go to http://larrylaswell.com and click on “Contest.” In the form tell Larry under what name you left the review, and then list the poems by name and author. (Watch your spelling – it must be exact!) 4. The first correct entrant who left a review wins a dinner for two, a night on the town, or whatever they want to do with $250!
5. If Larry cannot identify the entrant’s review they will be disqualified (don’t use an anonymous name!)
6. If Larry receives more than one entry at the same time stamp, Larry will hold a drawing to determine the winners.
7. Any organization, or individual who received an advance review copy, their employees or family are ineligible.
8. Larry is the contest judge, and his judgement is final.
9. Larry is not responsible for delivery delays in the Amazon Kindle system.
10. Larry will post the winners on his website at 8AM EST on September 1, 2015.

Pre-order Vows to the Fallen today!  


Virtual Book Tour Page



Vows To The Fallen Banner

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Book Tour for Overcoming Anxiety with my review!





About the Author

David J. Berndt, Ph.D. was an Associate Clinical Professor of Psychiatry at the University of Chicago where he published or presented over 80 papers and articles before establishing a private practice. Dr. Berndt currently lives in Charleston, S.C. where he also teaches in an adjunct capacity at the College of Charleston. He is best known for his psychological tests The Multiscore Depression Inventory, and the Multiscore Depression Inventory for Children, both from Western Psychological Services.

His latest book is the nonfiction self-help, Overcoming Anxiety.

For More Information


Visit David Berndt’s website.
Connect with David on Facebook and Twitter.
Visit David’s blog.
Contact David.
 My Review
4/5
This is a self help book about ways overcome anxiety. I has many very helpful tips. The tips are very well explained for you to implement in your life. He talks about all the different ways and how you could personalize them to fit your life. The only issue I really had was that some of the explanations were over done and not needed. There were some parts that I kept getting distracted because it was to long and not to the point. Besides that I found the ideas, if practiced were helpful.


About the Book:



Title: Overcoming Anxiety
Author: David Berndt, Ph.D.
Publisher: David Berndt, Ph.D.
Pages: 110
Genre: Nonfiction/Self-Help
Format: Kindle

The good news is that anxiety can be overcome without relying on medication. Psychologist David Berndt, Ph.D., in Overcoming Anxiety outlines several self-help methods for management of anxiety and worry. In clear simple language and a conversational style, Dr. Berndt shares with the reader powerful step by step proven techniques for anxiety management.


You will learn:


· A Self-hypnosis grounding technique in the Ericksonian tradition.

· Box Breathing, Seven Eleven and similar breathing techniques for anxiety relief.

· How to stop or interrupt toxic thoughts that keep you locked in anxiety.

· How to harness and utilize your worries, so they work for you.

· Relief from anxiety through desensitization and exposure therapy.

The book was designed to be used alone as self-help or in conjunction with professional treatment Dr. Berndt draws upon his experience as a clinician and academic researcher to give accessible help to the reader who wants to understand and manage their anxiety.
For More Information


Overcoming Anxiety is available at Amazon.
Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Angels, Angels, Everywhere blog tour. Plus my review


About the Book: 


Title: Angels, Angels, Everywhere
Author: Michelle Beber
Publisher: Balboa Press
Pages: 30
Genre: Juvenile Fiction/Children’s Picture Book
Format: Paperback/Kindle/Nook

Angels, Angels, Everywhere is a non-denominational, multiracial book written in delightful rhythm and rhyme and accompanied by charming illustrations. The themes of constant support and unconditional love are designed to help children deal with everyday experiences in life.

By developing children’s faith in knowing that they are not alone and building their trust that they are consistently watched over, cared for, and loved, children will become empowered to deal with life’s challenges. The book also lets children know that angels are there in good times as well, sharing in their joy. 

For More Information
Angels, Angels, Everywhere is available at Amazon.
Pick up your copy at Barnes & Noble.
The book can also be purchased at Balboa Press.
Visit the book’s official Facebook page.
Watch the book trailer at YouTube.
Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.
 My Review
5/5
This book was one my kids enjoyed. The pages are really beautiful. It has such a good message. It teaches kids that there are loved and someone is always there. It is a quick book that kids can enjoy without getting bored. It is a great book to read to kids no matter what they are going through.



About the Author

Michelle Beber has certifications as an Angel Intuitive and Angel Oracle Card Reader from renowned "angel lady," Doreen Virtue, as well as certifications as a Spiritual Teacher and Archangel Life Coach from Doreen's son, Charles Virtue.

In 2008, Michelle's life changed when she attended a spiritual retreat and learned about angels and how they communicate through repetitive number sequences known as "angel numbers." Little did she know that this insight would lead her on an amazing spiritual journey that would directly connect her with angels and result in the discovery of her life purpose.

Always grateful for the spiritual guidance she has received, Michelle looks forward to sharing the knowledge she has gained to inspire others, especially children. Michelle is a member of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI).

Her latest book is the juvenile fiction/children’s picture book, Angels, Angels, Everywhere.

For More Information


Visit Michelle Beber’s website.
Connect with Michelle on Facebook and Twitter.
Find out more about Michelle at Goodreads.
Visit Michelle’s blog.
Contact Michelle.

Guest Post for Carson Chance P.I Book Tour!


About the Book:


Title: Carson Chance, P.I., Over the Edge
Author: N.E. Brown
Publisher: Tate Publishing
Pages: 269
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Format: Paperback/Kindle/Nook

Set against the rock and roll era of the early 1960’s, when casual sex and recreational drugs were the norm, a chance meeting on a road trip finds twenty-four year old Carson Chance smitten with a young female hitchhiker he gives a ride to. Sparks fly as the two loners reach out to each other for companionship. They are like two pages torn from the same book that fit together perfectly, only Carson doesn’t know it.
For More Information


Carson Chance, P.I., Over the Edge is available at Amazon.
Pick up your copy at Barnes & Noble.
Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.

Guest Post


I found my niche in writing shortly after I retired from a long career in real estate. It was after Christmas in 2012 and I was facing the rest of my life with no job and no real plans for the future. I had written lots of advertising, poetry, real estate articles and some short stories. The idea of writing a novel seemed beyond my reach, but I decided to give it a try. Once I began, the words inside me began spilling onto the pages.

I read somewhere that you should write what you know. History has always been dear to my heart and having lived through the 1960’s and knowing a private detective personally, Carson Chance became my protagonist. I lost several high school friends in the Viet Nam War and those that returned came back with PTSD.

Love, lost relationships, people I’ve met just passing through, have all given me insight into most of the characters in my book. A piece of each one of them is woven into my characters.

I love it when my readers send me a note and tell me that they feel like they knew one of the characters in my book. One reader even told me she was married to a “Carson Chance” and he was the love of her life.




About the Author

After a successful career in real estate, N. E. Brown retired and began pursuing her passion for writing. She has authored and published four successful historical fiction novels about life in early Galveston. Her most recent book, Carson Chance, P.I., Over the Edge, takes place in Dallas, Texas, during the 1960s. It is not only available in paperback and e-books, but is now an audio book.

Having been a legal secretary during that time in Dallas, her eye for detail brings about a memorable life experience between two young people who are destined to find love a real challenge.

Being a native Texan, Ms. Brown’s love of Texas history inspires her to create true-to-life fictional characters from the past. She is currently working on two new novels, one being Book 5 of her Galveston, 1900, Indignities series. Ms. Brown resides in Tyler, Texas, with her husband.

For More Information


Visit N.E. Brown’s website.
Connect with N.E. on Facebook and Twitter.
Find out more about N.E. at Goodreads.

Monday, August 10, 2015

Observer book 2 of the Prison Trilogy book Tour

Observer George Trofimoff Story, The Tale of America's Highest-Ranking Military Officer Convicted of Spying (The Prison Trilogy Book 2)

Buy: Amazon...
to sharing a prison cell with a 70-something Army officer…• In prison, Aaron was assigned Colonel George Trofimoff as his cellmate. The Colonel turned out to be the highest-ranking U.S. Army officer ever convicted of spying. After initially resisting, Aaron agreed to look at the Colonel's case with the hope of finding a reason to make an additional appeal. What he found was a complete travesty of justice. For two years, an FBI agent had posed as a D.C. Russian Embassy representative in a sting operation designed to entrap the Colonel into exchanging what turned out to be a made-up story of espionage against America for the promise of a $45,000 payment. The resulting federal trial in Tampa railroaded the Colonel into a life prison sentence. The second book in The Prison Trilogy is that story.


Scheduling Now (20 Stops)

July 5 - Introduction at VBT Café Blog
July 7 - Interviewed at Author CAMilson
July 7 - Spotlight at The Voluptuous Book Diva
July 13 -
July 15 - Spotlight at Readsalot 
July 17 -
July 20 -
July 22 -
July 24 - Spotlight at Infinite House Of Books
July 27 - Interviewed at The Writers Revolution
July 29 -
July 31 -
August 3 -
August 5 - Review at Deal Sharing Aunt
August 7 -
August 10 - Reviewed at My Life, Loves and Passions
August 14 -
August 17 -
August 19 -
August 21 -



Glen writes both fiction and nonfiction from his forty-year career and experience as a trial lawyer and consultant in international business and banking.

His nonfiction work as the observer in The Prison Trilogy tells the tales in chronological order of how he came to be a lawyer for a Wall Street Journal heiress and her gay husband and how that representation landed him in federal prison. That is the first in The Trilogy. The second book tells the story of his cell mate, Colonel George Trofimoff, serving life for spying for the KGB, and the final book of The Trilogy describes the prisoners, Glen's experiences and takes a hard look at the American criminal justice system.


Author Links:

http://www.glenaaron.com/


http://www.prisonobserver.com/

Facebook: www.facebook.com/AuthorGlenAaron

Twitter: twitter.com/OBSERVERauthor

Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/observerauthor/

Linkedin: www.linkedin.com/pub/glen-aaron/16/77/566/en

Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/glenaaron 

Amazon:  www.amazon.com/Glen-Aaron/e/B00936UFS4/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1427123445&sr=8-1

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/aaron



Book genre: Biography of Wall Street Journal heiress; nonfiction intrigue and crime

Publisher: Glen Aaron using Create Space

Release date: April 1

Buy link: Amazon.com