Monday, January 30, 2012

A Pre Valentine’s Day Special: Featuring Mary M. Forbes, Author of Four Romance Books


Mary M. Forbes, Author

Forever an optimist with hope in her heart, Mary M. Forbes loves creating stories with happy endings and overcoming severe conflicts to obtain that end. She has written three historical romances, set in the colorful, little known Canadian West, which makes Hawk's Gift, (Canada's Civil War), Alberta Wild Rose (fabled Lost Lemon Gold Mine), and Paradise on the Horizon (homesteading in the wilderness) true romance stories, in a unique setting. Her latest romance is a contemporary romance involving an unlikely romance and set in the cowboy atmosphere of Calgary, Alberta. She is presently working on a romance suspense "Angels Among Us," which she hopes to have available in the fall of 2012.



Many individuals go through life wondering if they’ll ever meet the one. “One Dance with a Stranger” takes readers through the journey of a country superstar’s life and his determination to find true love, even if it means pursuing his brother’s troubled fiancĂ©e.

Throughout each page of this book, author Mary M. Forbes shares an up and down journey of one very twisted love story; and in the end, it is evident that opposites really do attract.

Whether it is fate or destiny, love happens for a reason, but the ultimate question is, “Can this love survive?”

This is a love story full of romance, seduction and corruption that is sure to get the heart racing. Experience a story of magic; readers will not only leave satisfied, but wanting more from Forbes.

Excerpt

...She couldn't seem to summon the energy to break his hold. He allowed her that small concession, twining his fingers with hers instead. The gliding motion caused her heart to pound. How could just dancing cause her heart to pound? And how could she of all people be feeling this way about a man she didn't even like?...

Reviews:

Midwest Reviews - Greenspan's Bookshelf: One Dance with a Stranger by Mary M. Forbes

Love matters to some, but it doesn't matter to others. "One Dance with a Stranger" is a romance that follows a truly unique relationship. Emily Van Sheldon wants anything in the world to get out of the poorhouse, even if it means marrying only for profit. But she may get both in the package of country singer Wade Hart, however she finds it hard to go off her beaten track for success in life. "One Dance with a Stranger" is a choice pick that should not be ignored by romance fans.

About the Author

Mary M. Forbes lives in the Rocky Mountain Wilderness and travels extensively throughout Canada and the USA. Mary is an avid reader of all genres. She enjoys country music, cowboys, horses, the outdoors, history and travelling. She has completed “Writing for Children and Teenagers” and “The Writing School” courses as well as attending DeVry Institute of Technology in Calgary, Alberta and completed courses in Adobe Photoshop and Movie Editing. Other accomplishments are in accounting and she is a Certified Weather Observer. Her true passions are writing, exploring and researching both in western USA and in Canada.

All of the author’s books are available in soft cover and Kindle form at Amazon.com and Amazon.ca (Canada), Create Space and other e-publishing stores.

Links to Author’s Sites


Could there be any reason to fall in love with a useless drifter?  Read ‘Hawk’s Gift’ by Mary M. Forbes. Available at Amazon.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Is A Woman’s Weight Important When Searching for a Lifetime Partner?


Miss Know It All Is Here To Answer Your Questions
Question...Yesterday, I met a potential client who was a successful international business lawyer in her late 30s, great personality, etc. However, she was visibly quite overweight. I personally think that people should look beyond the weight factor when looking for a life partner but from experience, I know that most of our male clientele are looking for women who are from thin to normal in weight. When I tactfully tried to tell her that from experience, “I know it is very challenging to match women who are overweight.” I just saw the disappointment on her face. She came to us with high hopes and ideals, and I feel awful at the thought that I may have let her down. Any advice on this matter?
Professional Matchmaker

Dear Professional Matchmaker...Bringing up a person's weight is a very touchy subject. I would never mention a person's weight unless they asked for my advice. Men say they are looking for one thing and usually end up getting something else. Since I do not deal with singles on a face-to-face basis, and I am not a professional matchmaker, I cannot give much advice on how to deal with this issue. When I had my singles printed publication, nine times out of ten, weight was never an issue. I had men and women of all shapes and sizes seeking a soul mate. Nevertheless, when I see couples in my community, which is ethnically and culturally diverse, and in my family and friends, weight is not an issue. If you must mention weight with your client, handling it in a sensitive and compassionate manner, as you did, is the best way.

~*~

We would like to know what you think. Is a woman’s weight important when searching for a lifetime partner? Please leave your remarks in the comment box.

Monday, January 16, 2012

Erotic Escapes Ebooks is looking for Erotic and Romance Authors


Deb Cole, founder of Erotic Escapes Ebooks, wants your masterpieces to be included on her site. Ever since she was a teenager, Ms. Cole wanted to be an author of romance books and own a bookstore. Now both of her wishes are about to come true. She is an author and is now launching her bookstore. However, it cannot happen without YOU, the author.

Deb is now looking for New and Self Published Authors, who write Romance, Erotica, Science Fiction, Suspense, Horror, and Paranormal books. If you do not see your category listed, it does not mean she will not be interested in your work.

Four columnists are also joining the site, and she is looking to fill some of their educational and instructional Sex Health books.

With the help of friends, she started the site, but she also needs your help by offering your works on the site. She thinks it will be a good fit for the site and the authors.

For more information on submitting your work, please visit Erotic Escapes Ebooks. If you have any questions, you can send an email or call 231-414-1303.

Monday, January 09, 2012

Introducing Guilty Pleasures by Niyah Moore



Enter the Sugar Hill Gentleman’s Club…
Married lawyer, Hassan Walker, can’t seem to get enough of the Sugar Hill Gentlemen’s Club, as he is in love with sexy dancer, Cinnamon. Unable to shake the taunting images of her out of his head, he can’t even have sex with his own wife without envisioning Cinnamon. When he makes up in his mind to never return to Sugar Hill again, he finds out that his wife is cheating on him. He uses her affair to his full advantage taking his obsession with Cinnamon to the next level.
Roxi Walker can no longer hide the secret affair she has been having with her female boss, Dawn James. Confused and in denial about her bi-sexuality, she does everything in her power to become more discreet, but Hassan is onto her every move. Given an ultimatum to stop cheating or lose her husband for good, she tries to give Dawn up, but can’t seem to fulfill her husband’s request completely.
Jada James’ sultry alter-ego “Cinnamon” is one of the tastiest treats for any hungry man that comes down to Sugar Hill. Never having feelings for any of the men that tip her to grant their wildest fantasies, she finds that she is just as curious about Hasan as he is about her. Once she realizes Roxi is the woman her sister has been seeing, she doesn’t mind going after Hassan using every trick in her book to get him.
Horizon’s House of Fashion’s Founder, Dawn James, encourages Jada to go after Hassan so she can have Roxi all to herself. When Jada gets pregnant, that plan only brings the couple surprisingly closer. Dawn comes up with a plan B, only it’s interrupted once her other married lover, Quincy, catches wind of what she’s been up to and is more than determined to stir up trouble leaving everyone’s plan in a fatal disaster.

 
He glanced at his watch. She usually appeared before and it was almost that time. Taking another sip from his drink, he played with the gold wedding band on his finger nervously. His wife was at home in Hayes Valley sleeping soundly. What he and his wife shared was his reality. What he had at Sugar Hill was his fantasy. He wasn’t sure if he knew how to separate the two.

“You want another drink Mr. Hassan?” Erin asked staring at the almost empty glass.

Erin was one of the club’s waitresses and everyone knew him by name, because he had been a regular club member for a year.

He nodded his head without speaking, felt better if he didn’t.

She gave him a sly wink before heading to the bar.

He observed the dancers while they looked for men who were eager for lap dances. The women were all very attractive, but there was only one that he wanted to see. He grew more anxious each second he waited. Where was she and why was she torturing him?

The house music lowered. It was time. The moment he couldn’t shake from his mind all week had finally arrived.

Hassan sat up gulping the last of his drink. It was smooth going down, but his chest burned a little. He took a deep breath and then exhaled to help the smoldering sensation leave. That anxiousness wouldn’t die from his gut as he shifted in his seat. Enough was enough. All he needed was just one glimpse to help ease the heartburn.

The curtain rose. A hard hitting hip-hop beat thumped from the speakers through his chest imitating his heartbeat. She was facing the back of the dark stage wearing a white mini-dress that clung to her body. As soon as the spotlight beamed on her, she bent over to the side to grab her right ankle. She had an ass much like Deelishis from The Flavor of Love. Her long curly copper-red hair bounced as she spun around to walk center stage. She came to an abrupt stop when the music paused. A few men in the crowd whistled and howled like wild dogs.

As soon as the music started again, she wiggled her ass to the beat seductively and dropped low into a split in front of the pole leaning back to grab the silver rod with both hands. Cinnamon was her name and she was sweet and savory.

He watched her intently, daring himself to miss a beat. When she flipped over into a handstand, she gripped the pole with her solid legs. Her fluid trick made dollar bills fly from the hands of other hungry howling men, rain on the floor, and create a green blanket beneath her. Hanging upside down, she eased the dress down to her stomach to reveal her beautiful caramel-colored breasts.

She shook her top making those jugs jiggle while descending to the floor to remove her dress completely. She picked up the dollars, sliding them into the sides of her white thong, as she gyrated on the floor riding the beat of the music.

Crawling to the end of the stage, arching her back like a cat, and swinging her hair around in circles, she looked up to see Hassan at his usual table. The corners of her small mouth eased into a slight smile causing her dimples to deepen in each cheek. She did a slow wind up onto her feet making her way back to the pole.

She gripped the pole whipping her head around as she climbed to the very top of it. As soon as she touched the ceiling with the top of her head, she slid back down rapidly landing into a split position. More dollars flew on top of her.

Once her stage show was over, she picked up all the money, and hurried backstage to change. She dressed in black-laced attire, fishnet pantyhose, and high heels. Every nook and cranny of her body was well oiled and fresh smelling before walking back out of the dressing room.

Hassan waited patiently for her as he drank his last drink for the night. He never drank to get drunk, but to release some of his nervousness.

She came from the dressing room ignoring other men’s thirsty requests for lap dances and went straight to him as she always did. His eyes danced all over her body as if it was his first time ever laying eyes on her.

She gently moved a few red strands of hair out of her face as she stood in front of his table. “Are you ready?”

About The Author

Niyah Moore, Author

Niyah Moore is one of the contributing authors of the 2008 African American Literary Award Winning Erotic Anthology Mocha Chocolate: Taste a Piece of Ecstasy (ShaniBooks), Chocolat Historie D’Amour (LadyElle Publishing), Souls of My Young Sisters (Kensington Publishing), and Mocha Chocolate Remix: Escapades of Passion (Nayberry Publications). Niyah released her debut novel Bittersweet Exes March 2010. She currently resides in Sacramento, California as a divorced mother of two.


To schedule an interview with the author, please contact info@nayberrypublications.com

Monday, January 02, 2012

One World Singles Magazine Blog is Now Looking for Guest Bloggers


Submission Guidelines:

  1. Articles submitted must be under 350 words and be related to dating, single life, relationships or romance.
  2. You are responsible for proofreading and editing your content. We do not proofread or edit posts.
  3. If your article is accepted, we cannot provide payment but if you are selling a product, service or book(s), you can add a link to your site(s) at the end of the article along with a short bio about yourself.
  4. You must submit your content as an attachment in Microsoft doc. or RTF (Rich Text Format).
  5. You will retain all ownership rights to your work.
  6. We will not accept any article that is offensive, hateful, racist, sexist, or intolerant of peoples’ religion or sexual preference.
  7. You must be over 18 years of age or of legal age in the country where you reside in order to write for One World Singles Magazine Blog.
  8. Do not submit articles written by someone else unless you have permission to do so.
  9. If you wish to include a photo of yourself, please submit image size 300x450 in JPG or PNG format.
 ~*~
To submit your content for consideration, please click here. Include title of the article, your email address, name or pen name, and in the body of the email, please state that you are over the age of 18 or of legal age in the country where you reside.

Monday, December 26, 2011

What is your New Year’s Resolution for 2012?

When is comes to romance dating and relationships, we would like to know the one resolution you plan to make for 2012.

It can be serious or hilarious. No matter what it is, post your promise in our Comment Box.

Have fun!


Monday, December 19, 2011

It is That Time Again

How fast the time goes. We cannot believe that 2011 is almost ending.

We at One World Singles Magazine Blog would like to take this time to thank you again for your continued support, for visiting our site and for leaving great comments to our articles. We also want to extend our thanks and appreciations to the guest bloggers for making our blog a great success.

The staff is going on hiatus and will return on Monday, January 9, 2012.

Wishing you a joyous and safe holiday and a Happy and Prosperous New Year.

One World Singles Magazine Team

Monday, December 12, 2011

Kent Manor Inn – Romantic Perfection on Maryland’s Eastern Shore By Niambi Brown Davis


Kent Manor Inn at Night

If Kent Manor Inn was the clue in a word association game, “romance” would be the answer.  I was there for an evening jazz concert on the lawn, but even at dusk, maybe especially at dusk, the wonderful water view, acres of beautifully landscaped grounds was unexpected perfection. 

My first sight of Kent Manor Inn was at the end of a long, tree-lined lane. Just after sundown, with every window of the manor house lighted, it was hold-your-breath beautiful.  Inside, the atmosphere was both elegant and inviting.  Although I was only there for an evening, I was able to see the Atrium, one of the Inn’s lovely dining rooms. The windows faced the water and I imagined the experience of sunset and an exquisitely prepared meal in that space. There are three others, some with Italian marble fireplaces, to warm a fall or winter meal. My favorite discovery on the grounds was the glass-enclosed Garden House. It looks out over a lush green lawn and beyond to Thompson’s Creek. What a beautiful place for a water-side wedding and reception!

Kent Manor Inn is located in Stevensville, on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. The main house holds 24 rooms, each one radiating “the warmth, intimacy and attention to detail that’s expected of an historic country manor inn.” Marble fireplaces, sumptuous four-poster beds, window seats and porches add to the Inn’s romantic charm.

It doesn’t take a wildly romantic imagination (such as my own) to craft a four-part romantic play with Kent Manor Inn as the setting:  the introductory first dinner date, perfect wedding, festive reception and grand finale wedding night!

Click on the link to see for yourself. www.kentmanor.com

Monday, November 28, 2011

Too Perfect to Date


So you think you’re hot. You’ve got the right clothes, the right car, and the right looks to tempt any potential suitor. Why are you still single? Well, you may be just a little too perfect.
How can anyone be too perfect? Easy. If you never let anyone see your flaws, you are not letting anyone see you. People interested in serious relationships know that everyone has issues. True, you don’t want to scare people away with your fondness for Star Trek or your habit of rocking out to Taylor Swift, but no one wants to date a robot, either.
Learn to balance. Show the flaws that aren’t completely repugnant to strangers (your love of cheesy horror movies) and hide the really bad ones until they get to know you better (your collection of Beanie Babies). Yes, they are supposed to love you for who you really are, but don’t blind them all at once.
Remember that you want a real person too. Be who you want to date. The Golden Rule isn’t just for school kids.
~*~
Mary Edwards is one of the contributors and editors for dating websites. She is passionate about thought leadership writing, regularly contributes to various career, social media, public relations, branding, and parenting and online dating community. She can be reached at edwardsmary936@gmail.com

Monday, November 21, 2011

Help Lily and Tony Name Their Book Contest

Niambi Davis, author of Sanctuary is running a contest titled What's In A Name.

For additional information, please go to Arrow Publications.

Soon, we will be bringing you some fascinating details about this multi-talented author.

So keep coming back for upcoming news and events.

Monday, November 14, 2011

The Book club Short Story Project by Brenda L. Foster plus 11 Contributing Authors


Brenda L. Foster, CEO/Owner
Treasure Books N' More

The Book Club Short Story Project is a compilation of 12 short stories based on the 12 months of the year and the significant of each month be it holiday or change of season.

You get to enjoy 12 contemporary urban romance short stories without all the drama. These stories are family friendly, feel good stories.

Excerpt:

        “This ish look good girl! I can’t wait to dig in! Dang, why you don’t have white rice to go with this grub?” Inca was used to her Korean mother fixing a pot of rice with every meal she prepared; even if it was spaghetti.

        “Inca girl you better get used to eating food without rice. You’re an American now!” Monique is thick and loves to cook and eat. But she is also the only one who will stay behind and help clean up the mess. After a party. It usually wins her the privilege of taking home the leftovers.

        “Shall we get started ladies?” says Gwen. “I’m glad we chose to do the short story thing. My life is way too hectic to be tryin’ to get all this reading done. So, the first story on our agenda is Black Eyed Peas and White Rice.”

        “What a coincidence,” Inca says laughing. The women fill their plates and glasses and switch on their Kindles. The room gets quiet and they begin to read a short Blasian Romance.

        This is it…

        The Book Club Short Stories


About The Author

Brenda L. Foster is a three time self-published author and the CEO/Owner of Treasure Books N’ More. You can find out everything you want to know about her and what she does at her Website. She just released a poetry anthology, and The Book Club Short Story Project is due to be released in the spring of 2012. She currently resides in Jacksonville, Florida with her husband Shi Tzu and feisty McCaw.

Links:



Monday, November 07, 2011

Author Lendy Demetrius Returns With His Second Novel I Live, You Move On

Lendy Demetrius, Author
No one does seduction and suspense like Lendy Demetrius. He possesses an intense voice, and his words bring chills in his writing. A story that is powerful, nail biting and touching. An ingeniously moving story, inspiring, profoundly real.


Gripping, limitlessly creative, going to be read for a long time to come.

After several years in hiatus, author Lendy Demetrius has return to bookshelves nationwide with the release of his second novel, I Live, You Move On. Set in New York City, the story follows the lives of two strong, driven career women who find their love lives will not be as easily conquered as their professional lives have been.

Lendy made his return to the literary scene with the vivid tale of two dynamic women, one Latina and one African-American, seeking to find balance between their personal and professional lives without having to sacrifice one for the other. “As minorities, our lives are so diverse,” Lendy says of his style of writing. “I love to bring to light the challenge in not only revealing that diversity, but also synergizing the layers that take us beyond the collective African-American or Hispanic experience, to the unique individuality of each character.”


A Summary of the Characters


JULISSA LONGORIEZ never intended to let her personal life derail her work. In fact, Julissa made it a point to avoid attachment and love. Besides, getting too close to any man would force her to have to come to terms with a past she has worked so hard to bury. But her latest conquest has a different plan in mind. Despite his current relationship with another woman, Avery knows that Julissa is the one he wants. Moreover, with the rapidly changing circumstances of her life, Julissa must decide if keeping her past secret is more important than building the future she never thought would be hers.

Demetrius’ other protagonist, NAHLA VOYAS, is almost the exact opposite of her friend Julissa. For years, Nahla has played doting wife and mother, ignoring her husband’s philandering ways and sacrificing her dreams to keep their home life as close to perfect as possible. But when the truth about his extramarital activities becomes too much to ignore, Nahla decides she must love herself and her daughter more than this man. She must do what it takes to put herself first and become the role model her child deserves. However, getting there may not be that simple.

As with his first novel, There Could Be Joy and Pain in the Long Run, Lendy Demetrius demonstrates a true mastery of his subjects in I Live, You Move On. He delivers Julissa and Nahla’s first person accounts in an engaging manner that keeps the readers glued to the pages as they discover the circumstances that have made these two women who they are. With each twist of the present and revelation of the past, Demetrius creates a world so vivid that it could very well be unfolding on screen.


An Interview With The Author

Who are your favorite authors? How have they impacted your writing? I would say Eric Jerome Dickey, Victoria Schmidt and Douglass Adams. I liked Eric Jerome Dickey’s book a lot. His books are very well written & I learned a great deal about character development. Victoria Schmidt's books incorporate her incomparable interests in different paths that allow me to imagine things differently about various topics while presenting me with realistic tools to examine things on my own. “45 Master Characters” is like a bible to me, especially if I am stuck somewhere in my writing. It helps me think of the different possibilities. My beloved book has been unquestionably “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy” by Douglass Adams. His comical aspect is unconquerable and his satire lasts for days. He commences his book by saying he came up with the idea while intoxicated in an arbitrary field in London. He is honest and I find that to be loved in a person’s character.

In the years since you were last published, what has changed in your life? How has that affected your writing? What hasn’t changed! It seems like every facet of my life has changed through the years. Each evolution brought it's own challenges and lessons. Overall, it's caused me to learn to be more submissive and to accept that I can't always be in control. I've learned to relinquish control over the writing process too. Now, I just write. Even if it’s precisely five minutes a day. I realize that everything I write doesn't have to be my best work. I just have to create thoughts and write, without worrying about the outcome or how it will be received by others.

Where did you find the inspiration for Julissa & Nahla? Julissa & Nahla, both came from different aspects of my life and what I see around me. Their being comes from everywhere: situations I find myself in, songs, movies, conversations I’ve overheard. I would sit on the train and watch people and get inspired there. New York has millions of characters and therefore I am able to do my best writing on the rush hour train.

What's the relationship between the two women? They’re high school friends. Nahla is Julissa’s only girlfriend. Julissa is the type that has a problem with almost every other woman. In her mind, all women hate her because of the attention she gets. Julissa normally gets along more with men than women. Nahla is not the type to judge her, which is what has kept their friendship so strong over the years.

How different are the characters in this book in comparison with the ones in your previous effort? They're hard to compare because they evolve in completely different spaces, experiences, and different settings. Also, since Julissa & Nahla are older, everyone involved in their lives deals with situations with more maturely.

Is there any aspect of the book or the characters' lives that you left out of the final product? I took a character out. I didn’t feel I developed her enough. She would have been so overpowered by Julissa and Nahla and the twists and turns in their lives, that writing her in would have been a waste of a good plot line. So I will use her for another project.

What is the one personal thing that has the biggest effect on your writing? My past relationships, from dark to light, and everywhere in between. I use different stages of emotions in my writing, even if it has nothing to do with the situation. I use it to my advantage.

Is there a process or ritual that you use to find creativity when writing? What lesson from your experience with the last book did you apply to writing this book? I normally write on the train. I have to have noise around me or something going on. I guess it reminds me of high school days when I would ride on the train and do homework on my way to school. Or when I would turn on the radio when I am home and do my homework. Once I had created the characters and understood who they were, their lives just unfolded! I would much rather write than edit or revise or even do research. I went a bit deeper in the thought process and the emotions with I Live, You Move On. I learned that the more involved your readers are with the characters' emotional state, the easier it is to take them on the exact journey you want to lead them on.

What advice would you offer to up-and-coming writers today? I would say just do what you do. Write what you know and write for you. It is a lot easier to draw audiences into a story you know how to tell than it is to try to figure out what they want.


About The Author

The oldest of four children, Manhattan-born author Lendy Demetrius was introduced as a teenager to the escape that would become his life’s passion – writing. A high school teacher, who took the initiative to not only provide Lendy with guidance, but also to encourage and nurture his talent, made the introduction. “Mr. Bailey showed me that writing was a way to process and express what was going on in my life,” he recalls. “He showed me how to be still and take time for myself; writing was what made me still in moments of chaos.” Lendy quickly discovered that writing was something he could do and do well.

While in college, though he had not yet decided to pursue writing professionally, Lendy drew inspiration from everything including creative writing courses and the works of his favorite authors that helped to develop his written voice. That voice captures and relates themes of contemporary romance and drama, wrought in the African American and Hispanic experience.

Lendy also infuses his writing with tales of overcoming life’s trials, as he has had to do. “I feel every action we play in our lives leaves an etching, like a drawing,” he says of his writing style. “Writing novels for me is like connecting to a framework composed of our lives, culture, history, our pains, and our indulgences. I want to be able to tell a story that draws the reader in and open their conceptions.” In 2002, at the age of 21, Lendy became a published author, releasing There Could Be Joy and Pain in the Long Run.

Currently working as an accountant for a corporate real estate firm, Lendy Demetrius is also working on a transition or expansion into screenwriting.


Purchasing Links

Amazon

Barnes&Noble


You can check out the Author’s Web Site at http://www.lendydemetrius.com/

Lendy Demetrius is available for interviews, book signings and readings. For more information, please contact Youseline Obas with the Seline Media Group at youseline@selinemediagroup.com or (347) 234-6297

Monday, October 31, 2011

Shades of Deception has Been Completely Revised


Imagine lonely people searching for love, romance or a lifetime partner on an online dating site, at a social function, through a pen pal service, at a social network or through a chance meeting and believe they have found true love and happiness, only to discover that they have been deceived by heartless con artists.


Shades of Deception is a collection of ten fictional short stories centering on diverse men and women who in their speedy search for love, romance and bliss, become the targets and victims of deceit, betrayal, fraud, revenge and scandal. Each chapter tells a story as to how ordinary citizens who are sophisticated, successful and financially smart fall prey to insightful predators that use love, romance, lust and money as embellishments to destroy lives. You can now sample or read the entire book at http://www.publicbookshelf.com/contemporary/deception/

You will not be able to download this book. If you wish, you can purchase the book at the Public Bookshelf or at the following :

Amazon's Kindle Store

Monday, October 24, 2011

Why Some Smart Women Fall for Men Behaving Badly by Miss Know It All


Why do women, who have so much going for themselves, end up with losers? When it comes to selecting their educational and career choices, women make good decisions. However, with some women, there seems to be a breakdown in common sense when it comes to selecting men without substance.

What I am saying is that women have to be more selective when it comes to finding a mate. Just as you would exam a house before buying it, or do your research before purchasing a car or a major appliance, you would apply these same assessments when it comes to meeting and establishing a relationship with the opposite sex.

“With age comes wisdom.” Unfortunately, this is not always the case.

Take for example the teenage girl who met her boyfriend in high school. It was love at first sight. Then, the boy began to exhibit some shady behavior throughout their relationship, dropped out of high school and partook in criminal activities. She went to college, got her BS degree, took the LSAT (Law School Admission Test) and is now preparing to become a lawyer and will eventually take the bar exam. Yet, she still stayed with this person, because she loved him and thought she could change him.

The ultimate humiliation came when she lent him money, and he refused to pay back the loan. She took him to small claims court and sued him for the money. Mind you, she had him sign a promissory note. In this instance, she used good old common sense and applied what she learned in contract law. However, to add more insult to injury, he swore the signature on the note was not his. When the judge compared the signature on his driver’s license to the signature on the promissory note, they were a perfect match, and she won her case.

When it comes to romance, many women mistake bad behavior as an act of love and actually believe they can change that individual for the better. So take note: You will never be able to change anyone unless that individual decides to change on his own.

Therefore, the next time you meet someone, take a step back, do your homework and watch how that person conducts himself, which will tell you whether this individual is worth being in your life.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Meet Michelle Scott, Author of Straight to Hell



Michelle Scott, Urban Fantasy Author

On her virtual book tour, Michelle Scott stopped by and was gracious enough to let us delve into her life as an Urban Fantasy author. Indeed Michelle, who lives in Detroit, is a creative writer who has penned several books. We had the opportunity to chat about her writings, characters, and her advice to future authors.

Thank you, Michelle, for allowing us to interview you and letting us host your virtual book tour.

What are some of the most valuable lessons you have learned from writing? Patience! This is a lesson that I must learn over and over again. I have to be patient with the writing process because the muse moves according to her own schedule and not mine. I must also be patient and take the time to revive my material over and over again, and then patiently wait as the editor makes her comments. In many ways, writing is a waiting game.

What type of characters do you enjoy creating? I love placing ordinary characters in extraordinary circumstances. Like having an elementary school teacher discover that she is contractually obligated to serve the devil. Or putting a demon in the path of a teenage girl who’s biggest concern is that her parents won’t get her a car for her sixteenth birthday. It’s these kinds of situations where people find out what they’re really made of.

Which authors have influenced you the most? I always jokingly say that Stephen King taught me how to write. When I was in high school and college, I’d read and re-read his novels, trying to figure out how he made them so riveting. I also love Margaret Atwood who is able to make anything sound creepy.

Who or what inspired you to become an author? Like Lady Gaga says, I was born this way.

From where do you get your story ideas? Like I said, I live in Detroit, and the city inspires me quite a bit. Detroit isn’t half as violent or frightening as people seem to think it is, but it has some very gritty areas. When I worked downtown, I saw rats that were as big as cats. (No, I’m not making that up.) There’s something about all those abandoned buildings and weedy lots that gets my mental wheels turning.

Are your stories based on true current or past events? Not the stories themselves, so much, but there are references to events that really happened. I love the history of Michigan. In “Blood Sisters”, for example, one of my characters talks about The Purple Gang, which really was a violent group of bootleggers back in the 1920’s.

Are you planning to write any more books in the near future? I’m nearly finished with a sequel to Straight to Hell which is called Straight Shot. Also, I’m wrapping up a dystopian YA novel.

What advice would you give someone who is thinking about writing a book? Do it! Don’t wait! Seriously. Right this second. Go grab a pencil and get to work. Chop, chop!!

~*~

Following is an introduction and an excerpt from Straight to Hell:




The moment Lilith Straight dies, the Devil appears to claim her soul and cash in on a longtime family curse. Now, Lilith has no choice but to work for him as a succubus. The job is bad, the boss is worse, and she can’t imagine how she’ll explain her new reincarnation to her eight-year-old daughter. But then an arrogant, yet oh so yummy, incubus shows up…and hell heats up just a little more.


Chapter One

   A year ago I, Lilith Straight, was the woman you always wanted to be.
   I was married to someone better looking than your husband, and his salary climbed into figures so high that you’d have to be married to six men before their incomes equaled his. We lived in the house that you always wanted but never could have afforded, and drove cars that would have made you ashamed of yours. My husband and I went to those exclusive parties you read about in the newspapers – yes, those parties – and we rubbed elbows and other body parts with actors and politicians and professional athletes – yes, those athletes, the ones you also read about in newspapers. My daughter attended a small, very exclusive, private school where your child would not have been allowed even if you could have afforded the tuition.
   But within the span of twelve months, all of that changed. My marriage dissolved, my house burned down, and the only job I could find, substitute teaching, hardly paid for a week’s worth of bills. On top of that, I’d suddenly gained custody of my antisocial, eleven-year-old niece, Ariel, when her mother dropped her off at my doorstep and drove off with hardly a backward glance. And a week later, my bent-for-hell stepsister Jasmine moved in after her mother kicked her out of the house.
   So when I was hit by a car and died for the first time, I thought that my life had already gotten as bad as it could get.
   Boy, was I wrong.


   The day I died was a Monday. Specifically, the Monday after a two-week Christmas school break, and all of us – even Drinking Tea, our cat – had slept through the alarm. Had I still been married, this never would have happened since Dr. Theodore Dempsey, my ex, woke me up every morning at five by groping me under the covers. But my recent divorce gave me certain privileges, such as being able to sleep in without having someone squeeze my breasts like they were testing mangoes for ripeness.
   So when I finally did wake up and realize what time it was (7:15), I leapt out of bed and began shouting orders to my daughter and my niece. “Grace, get up! Ariel, move it!”
   I used to live in a house that had more square-footage than the city library, but after Ariel had accidentally set the place on fire, the four of us had been forced to relocate to a seedy townhouse the size of a walk-in closet. My voice carried through the paper-thin walls without a problem, but at the same time, those thin walls also allowed me to hear my daughter’s whine, “Do I have to go to school?”. Followed by my niece’s muttered, “F.U.”.
   Luckily, I didn’t have to be to work that morning. As a substitute teacher, I got to pick my own hours, and I’d given myself the day off. It was almost like I knew that this was going to happen. I spared a moment to throw on my robe, then ran downstairs, so intent on getting into the kitchen that I almost didn’t notice the strange, young man sprawled on my couch. He wore nothing but a pair of boxers, and the most interesting thing about him – aside from the snarling dragon tattoo encircling his bellybutton, and the line of metal rivets punctuating his forehead – was the fact that he was the most hairless creature I’d ever seen. Not only was he bald, but his legs were so smooth that I was a little jealous. His chest was as pink and clean as a newborn’s. He had no eyebrows. Nor, for that matter, armpit hair – a fact I realized when he groaned and raised his arms over his head to stretch. I eyed his boxers, wondering just how far the hairless area extended
   For an instant, I considered chasing him out of the house before Grace noticed him, but she was already pounding down the stairs. So instead, to hide the hairless spectacle from her, I tossed a blanket over him. He muttered a ‘thanks’ and immediately went back to sleep.
   “Mom! Mom!” Grace skidded to a halt. “Hey, who’s that guy?”
   “A friend of Jas’s, I’m sure,” I said. I was going for the coffee, but halfway across the tiny kitchen, I stepped into a puddle of water and soaked my slippered feet. The entire floor was underwater.
   “Ah, shit!,” I said. I grabbed an armload of dishtowels from the drawer and began mopping up the mess, tracing the puddle to the washing machine which sat innocently by the back door.
   I wanted to cry. A broken appliance was the last thing I needed right then. I’d spent the last of my savings to make my car insurance payment, and had nothing left over to buy a new washer. In fact, I didn’t even have the ten quarters it would have taken to go to the Laundromat. “Goddamn, shit!!”
   “You broke rule number one. Now you need to put two quarters in the swear jar.” Grace stood in the doorway, looking solemnly at the mess. She’d dressed herself in the same t-shirt and jeans she’d worn the day before. And the day before that. She was brushing the top layer of her brown hair smooth over a bottom layer of wicked snarls.
   For a moment, I flashed back to a year ago. Back to the days of private school when my daughter, wearing a plaid skirt and navy blazer, would have been eating an egg white omelet in the breakfast nook while I braided her hair. The scene, once ordinary, was now so surreal that I might have dreamed it up.
   “I know, Darling. I know,” I agreed. I dropped the soaking wet rags into the sink and put down another layer of towels.
   “You also broke rule number nine.” Standing behind Grace was a very triumphant-looking Ariel. She loved catching me in the middle of bad behavior.
   The rules the girls were referring to were known as the “Ten Commandments of the Straight Household.” I’d posted a list of them on the refrigerator. And on the mirror above the bathroom sink. And next to the computer, on the doors of all the bedrooms, and on the dashboard of the car.
   I’m nothing if not thorough.
   Rule number nine had been written specifically for my stepsister. It said, “Thou shalt not let strange boys sleep overnight (either on the couch or in your bed).”
   “You’re right. I did break the rule,” I told Ari, thinking of the man on the couch.
   “And eight, too,” she added.
   For a moment, I couldn’t even remember rule number eight. And when it finally came to me, I was shocked. Eight was: “Thou shalt not leave prophylactics (either used or unused) lying about the house.” Again, this rule was for my sister because I hadn’t needed prophylactics since long before my divorce. Jasmine, however, had a very active love life.
   “I never broke that rule,” I argued.
   “Really?” Ariel held up several square, foil packages.
   “Give those here,” I said, furious. “Where did you get them?”
   “They were on the end table next to the couch. They probably belong to that bald guy.” Ariel’s eyes were alight with evil mischief. “But you should have thrown them away, so you just broke number eight.”
   I snapped my fingers at her to make her hand the condoms over. She looked smug, but surrendered them. It never occurred to me to ask how she knew what those things were. Ariel’s mother had given her the flipside education to the ‘no boys, no drugs’ message most kids get at home. Grace, however, looked on with heartbreaking innocence. “What are those things, Mom?”
   “Nothing.” I shoved the condoms into the pocket of my robe. “Just grab your coat and get going before you miss the bus.”
   “But I need to change my clothes!”
   I’d gotten careless with my laundry duties over vacation, and now dirty clothes piled on the floor like the slopes of Kilimanjaro. The previous night, I had tried to do a load before I went to bed. But now, seeing the condition of the washing machine, I knew nothing had gotten clean. There goes rule number two, I thought. (Rule number two: Thou shalt not pick dirty underwear out of the hamper and re-wear it.) “I guess we’ll all be wearing dirty clothes,” I said.
   If there was any silver lining to this disastrous situation, it came from the fact that no one from my old neighborhood or Grace’s old school was there to witness it. Because if they had been, every woman in the subdivision would have been roasting me alongside their coffee beans.
   “What about breakfast?” Grace whined.
   I grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter and shoved it at her. “Here, take this.”
   “That’s not breakfast!” Then Grace started to cry, and Ariel rolled her eyes and told her to grow up. And then Jasmine shouted up from the basement for all of us to, “Shut the hell up already. Some of us are trying to sleep!”
   So that’s the way my morning started off. Compared to other Monday mornings, it wasn’t all that bad, really.


   With the two younger girls out of the house, I finally had a chance to deal with the other member of our tribe: my stepsister.
   The townhouse had three-levels. Ariel and Grace shared one tiny bedroom upstairs, and I occupied the one across the hall from them. Jasmine dominated the basement. Between us, like a kind of demilitarized zone, lay the living room and kitchen. Ignoring the hairless wonder who was still gently snoring on the couch, I went downstairs and pounded on the basement door. “Wake up!”
   “Go ‘way.”
   I opened the door and flipped on the lights. Jasmine pulled the covers over her head, but I yanked them down again. ““It’s Monday, Jas. You promised you’d go find a job today.”
   Jasmine is twenty-three; a college dropout who is convinced that the only thing standing between her and a career as a high-paid fashion designer is a run of bad luck and not a deficiency of talent, drive, and energy.
   But what Jas lacks in skill and knowledge, she makes up for in looks. I don’t mind admitting that I’m good looking – at nearly thirty-five, I have no wrinkles, I can still fit into my high school cheerleading costume, and not a single gray thread mars my auburn hair – but Jasmine is absolutely gorgeous. Hers is a blend of our father’s Asian features – hair like black silk, flawless toffee-colored complexion, dark, exotic eyes – and her mother’s perfect cheekbones, impressive height and natural grace. Needless to say, men fall for her. Hence, the need for those two commandments on my list.
   Jas glared at me and tore the covers out of my hands, pulling them back over her head. “I’ll find a job tomorrow.” Her voice was muffled from under the covers. “Just let me sleep in today.”
   “That’s what you said last week. Which is now last year, in fact. But you also promised to make a New Year’s resolution to get a job. Remember?”
   On New Year’s Eve, Grace, Ariel and I had put on our pajamas and sat on the couch to watch the ball drop in Times Square, but I’d fallen asleep even before Ryan Seacrest had begun the countdown. Jasmine, on the other hand, stayed out all night, not coming in until ten the next morning. She was missing one of the shoes she’d borrowed from me, had put a dent in the front fender of my car, and was still drunk. But she had promised to find a job, and I wasn’t about to let her slip out of it now.
   “Jasmine, you getting up?”
   At the sound of the male voice, I let out an ‘eep’ of surprise and turned around to face the hairless wonder who stood behind me in the narrow hall.
   At least he had done the decent thing and wrapped the blanket around his waist to hide his skivvies. He grinned good-naturedly and held out his hand. “Tommy LaFevre. Nice to meet you.”
   “Lilith Straight.”
   “Jas’s stepsister.” His smile widened. “Yeah, she talks a lot about you.”
   I’ll bet, I thought. “That’s funny because she doesn’t talk about you at all.” I said it in order to make him flinch, but he only smiled serenely.
   “Tommy’s my spiritual advisor,” Jasmine said.
   I snorted, unimpressed. Was she kidding? But, no, I could see by her reverent expression that she was not. Only my step-sister would be willing to take spiritual advice from an unemployed bum with a demon tattoo and more metal in his face than the hardware section of Home Depot.
   “I’m helping Jasmine find her path,” Tommy said and glanced at Jas who was sitting on the end of her bed wearing nothing but a tiny chemise and a thong. Watching him watch her, I wasn’t fooled for a moment. Tommy could call himself a minister, a shaman, a monk, or even a witch doctor, but his eyes were crawling over Jasmine like a greedy bumblebee on the center of a daisy. Spiritual advisor, my ass.
   “Well, maybe you can help her find a path to the employment agency,” I said. I started to walk past him to return upstairs, but he blocked my way.

   “You don’t believe me, do you?” He looked troubled, like a little kid who had drawn a picture of a horse only to have the teacher call it a dinosaur.
   I’m a master in the art of sarcasm. I can draw blood at fifty paces. “Of course I do. And I think it’s wonderful that Jas is interested in religion.”
   “Not religion,” Jas chided. “Spirituality.”
   I narrowed my eyes at her. “Whatever.”
   “Here, let me see your palm,” Tommy said and took my hand. In the narrow confines of the hallway, it was impossible to maneuver out of his reach, so I unwillingly relented, if only to prove to Jasmine how inane all of this was. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he lifted my hand close to his eyes and examined my palm. “H-m-m.”
   I was curious in spite of myself. “H-m-m what?”
   “Your lifeline is very short. It stops here, but picks up again here.” He tapped the center of my palm.
   “Oh, let me see. Let me see!” Jasmine was suddenly crowding against me.
   He studied my face and frowned, looking worried. “And there’s something strange about your aura.”
   I yanked my hand back. “Oh, please.” If there’s anything worse than a clichĂ©, it’s a religious clichĂ©.
   “I’m not kidding,” he said. “Something’s off. Possibly something serious.” He tugged at one of the holes in his ear. “My sister’s aura was bloody red on the day… Well, it was bloody red.”
   “What’s going to happen to her?” Jasmine’s eyes glowed. She looked as excited as Ariel when she catches me breaking a rule.
   “I have to use the bathroom,” I said, shoving myself in-between them.
   “I know you don’t believe me, but do yourself a favor, okay?” Tommy said. “Be careful today. Wear your seatbelt. Don’t give rides to strangers. You know, that kind of thing. Just in case.”
   Jas made a farting noise through her lips. “Are you kidding me? Lilith wouldn’t cross the street without looking five ways. She wouldn’t even dare talk to a stranger, let alone give one a ride. For her, leaving the house without an umbrella is risky. And she’d never…”
   “Okay, Jas, we get the picture,” I said.
   “I’m just saying, you’re a careful person, that’s all.”
   I glared at her and started up the stairs. “I’m leaving in an hour, and Jas – I’ll expect you to be gone by then as well. And before you go, be sure to take out the trash.”
   “That’s not my job,” Jasmine howled. “That’s Ari’s…”
   “That’s not what she meant, Jas,” the hairless wonder said. “She’s talking about me.” This time, I was pleased to see that he did look hurt.


   When I was in elementary school, I was always the fat kid. Not obese, mind you, but chunky. The kind of girl who had to wear vertical stripes to look slimmer and never dared to be seen in a two-piece bathing suit. This was because I had (and still have) the habit of eating whenever I got nervous. And my mother was always making me nervous.
   Now, I can see that my poor Grace is heading down the same path. Nowadays, of course, we’d never say she was fat. We use other terms like ‘unhealthy’ or ‘past her ideal BMI’. But already, I can see she has a little gut overhanging the top of her jeans. Don’t get me wrong – I love her the way she is. But when I recall those days from elementary school when my classmates called me ‘Jiggle Belly’, I know that I have to save poor Grace from all of that.
   Hence rule number three of the Straight Ten Commandments: no junk food.
   But that afternoon, only twenty minutes before coming face-to-grill with the white Volvo, I was standing in line waiting to get my double Bates burger, large fry and a large Coke. A real Coke, that is. Diet is for wimps and diabetics. After I’d paid, and the girl at the cash register placed the greasy, white bag on the counter, I grabbed my food with the enthusiasm of a junkie plunging a needle into her vein. I was in fast food heaven.
   Stopping for the Bates burger also made me late for my appointment, which also meant I’d broken rule number six (thou shalt not be late.) And after I saw the SALE sign hanging in the boutique window across the street, I probably would have broken number seven (thou shalt not spend money frivolously), but I died before I had the chance.
   Breaking these rules isn’t what sent me to hell, of course, but it certainly entered into the equation. Because if I been paying more attention to where I was walking instead of fiddling with my cell phone, I probably would have seen the car before it hit me. In fact, I might have even changed my destiny. Who’s to say? But one thing’s for sure. If I hadn’t been trying to text my sister, I wouldn’t have broken the biggest rule of them all: number ten. Thou shalt not upload or download porn from the Internet.
   But then again, whether or not I actually broke number ten is a matter of opinion. After all, I think everyone agrees that the definition of porn is subjective. What’s pornographic to me, probably isn’t so bad for you. If, for example, you think that using your cell phone to snap a picture of an enormous dildo that is peeking up at you from over the top of a middle-aged woman’s shopping bag and then e-mailing said picture to your stepsister because you want to prove to her that you are not a prude is pornographic, then so be it.
   But it probably says a lot more about you than it does me.
   The truth is, the sight of that ridiculously huge vibrator gave me the giggles. The owner – a fifty-something, bleached-blonde, leather coat wearing woman – had just come out of a store called the Love Nest. The Love Nest was a porn shop, but a classy porn shop. Classy, because everything in that neighborhood, even the Bates Burgers, was upscale. The woman’s paper shopping bag, unbeknownst to her, had a large rip in the side and the dildo was leaning out of it like it was thinking of escaping. It kept wagging up and down in time to her stride as if trying to make up its mind. This struck me as hilarious.
   So, thinking quickly, I took out my cell phone. And the moment I had snapped my picture and sent it to Jas, I looked up in time to see the oncoming car. I caught a glimpse of the vehicle, a white Volvo, and the driver, a man in a white suit, before I felt a terrible jolt as if the hand of God had suddenly jerked me upwards by the back of my collar and hoisted me into the heavens.
   It was only later that I understood I hadn’t gone up at all. In fact, I’d gone in the exact opposite direction. The express elevator, as it were, straight to the very bottom.
   Hell.

~*~

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