Thursday, July 18, 2019

PROMO Blitz: Wonder Walk by Ilham Alam #giveaway #childrensbook #promo @IlhamAl50397575 @RABTBookTours


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Children’s Picture Books
Publisher: Iguana Books
Date Published: April 16, 2019


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Get out there with the curious Johnny and his patient Mommy, in this colourful, rhyming book, celebrating all the wonders of the everyday world. 





Sneak Peek at the first page:

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About the Author

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Ilham (the "H" is the same "H" as in hat) lives in Toronto, Canada, with her family that includes a very lazy cat. Toronto is called a "city within a park" for good reason, due to all its public parks and greenery in every neighbourhood, from which Ilham drew inspiration for this book while out for her own wonder walks with her kids. 





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Wednesday, July 17, 2019

PROMO Blitz: The Best Laid Plans Anthology #mystery #suspense #giveaway @RABTBookTours @JudyPenzSheluk


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21 Stories of Mystery & Suspense
Mystery/Suspense Anthology
Publisher: Superior Shores Press
Date Published: June 18, 2019

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Whether it’s at a subway station in Norway, a ski resort in Vermont, a McMansion in the suburbs, or a trendy art gallery in Toronto, the twenty-one authors represented in this superb collection of mystery and suspense interpret the overarching theme of “the best laid plans” in their own inimitable style. And like many best laid plans, they come with no guarantees.

Stories by Tom Barlow, Susan Daly, Lisa de Nikolits, P.A. De Voe, Peter DiChellis, Lesley A. Diehl, Mary Dutta, C.C. Guthrie, William Kamowski, V.S. Kemanis, Lisa Lieberman, Edward Lodi, Rosemary McCracken, LD Masterson, Edith Maxwell, Judy Penz Sheluk, KM Rockwood, Peggy Rothschild, Johanna Beate Stumpf, Vicki Weisfeld, and Chris Wheatley.


Heirloom by Tom Barlow

Me and my dimwitted brother, a cash withdrawn at gunpoint, make a midnight escape on ATVs through gnarly mountain trails chased by a blizzard. Lucky I’m too smart to fail.

Spirit River Dam by Susan Daly

Imogen doesn’t anticipate surprises at her trendy art gallery, until the day her ex walks in with an intriguing old painting. Is it a Fake? Or a Fortune?

Fire Drill by Lisa de Nikolits

You’ll never know my name, I’m not that important. But I’ll fight for what’s mine. So beware, world, because you’ve got no idea what I’m capable of.

Gambling Against Fate: From Judge Lu’s Ming Dynasty Case Files by P.A. De Voe

As the emperor’s representative in maintaining peace and order, I am challenged daily to ferret out criminals hiding among the innocent.

Callingdon Mountain by Peter DiChellis

I’m a private eye who spends his days investigating a baffling murder case the news media calls an “impossible” crime. The cops sure can’t solve the mystery. Can I?

Lunchbreak by Lesley A. Diehl

Spurred on by his buddy, Ben decides this is the day to shut up his nagging wife for good, but she thwarts his plans with some creative culinary intervention.

Festival Finale by Mary Dutta

My name is Charles Attlee, but of course you know my work. You don’t want to miss my killer book festival appearance.

A Sure Thing by C.C. Guthrie

The hit on an eighty year-old rancher seemed like a sure thing. I left the Buffalo snow behind for sixty-degree days in Oklahoma figuring, what could go wrong?

Last Thoughts by William Kamowski

Timothy, an empathetic techie, takes care of people online—for better or for worse—especially sad young women who need to script their final moments.

Sucker Punch by V.S. Kemanis

I’m Freddy, behind the butcher counter at Food Super. I’ll never look at the meat and bone saw in the same way after my “best friend” Zach roped me into his latest moneymaking scheme.

Better Dead Than Redhead by Lisa Lieberman

I’m Ashley Early. The best thing about being a primatologist? Chimps don’t find themselves accused of murdering their hair model. Unlike Alex, my twin sister.

Oubliette by Edward Lodi

Choose as your target a frail, elderly woman who lives alone, and what could possibly go wrong?

The Sweetheart Scamster by Rosemary McCracken

I’m Pat Tierney, a financial planner. The day my seventy four year-old client Trudy Sullivan said she had a new man in her life, I had questions to ask her.

Deadly Dinner by LD Masterson

I didn’t take this nursing home job to kill someone, I’m just looking for a way to score. But if it means helping some rich old biddy to her just reward…well, that’s okay, too.

The Stonecutter by Edith Maxwell

I’m Eleanor, a middle-aged librarian. A Portuguese stonecutter and I are in love, but it’s bittersweet and attempting to fix things could prove dangerous. I think I’ll try.

Plan D by Judy Penz Sheluk

My name’s Jenny and most of my days center around trying to think of inventive ways I can kill my lazy, job-losing husband, Ted—without getting caught.

Frozen Daiquiris by KM Rockwood  Penelope’s new McMansion doesn’t provide automatic entrĂ©e to the upper crust. Maybe if she hosts a society fundraiser in the new house, and everything goes according to plan…

The Cookie Crumbles by Peggy Rothschild

Angry with my mom and jealous of my talented older sister, I’m planning the perfect prank and hoping revenge is sweet.

Thank You For Your Cooperation by Johanna Beate Stumpf

Marsha watches people. As surveillance operator for the subway, this is her job. Lately, a new commuter has appeared on Marsha’s screens. And he’s going to change her life.

Who They Are Now by Vicki Weisfeld

Yolanda and Bill are Delray Beach, Florida, cops investigating the murder of a beloved sportscaster during the chaos of a Category 5 hurricane.

The True Cost of Liberty by Chris Wheatley

I am Gerald Worthington. Life consists of dealing antiques, dining at second-class restaurants, enduring tedious social engagements and wishing my wife’s new husband would drop dead.




About the Author

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Editor Judy Penz Sheluk is the author of the Glass Dolphin Mystery and Marketville Mystery series. Her short stories can be found in several collections. Judy is also a member of Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, the Short Mystery Fiction Society, and Crime Writers of Canada, where she serves as Vice Chair on the Board of Directors. Find her at www.judypenzsheluk.com.







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Tuesday, July 16, 2019

PROMO Blitz: Debt Cleanse


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How To Settle Your Unaffordable Debts for Pennies on the Dollar (And Not Pay Some At All)
Self-Help
Publisher: Community Books


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Jorge Newbery erased his debts without filing bankruptcy. Now you can, too.

Like many Americans, Newbery struggled with debt. But unlike most people, he owed more than $26 million. Creditors swarmed after a natural disaster devastated his multi-million dollar business. The stress was crushing. He needed a way out — and what he discovered will amaze you.

His breakthrough came practically by accident. One of his creditors made a sloppy legal mistake, and he battled the creditor all the way to the Missouri Court of Appeals. The court ruled that the entire debt — nearly $6 million — was "inadvertently extinguished.” It didn't have to be paid. It was completely eliminated.

Newbery applied the powerful techniques he had learned to all his other debts. The results were astonishing. One after another, his debts were either settled or gone forever.



Now, Newbery reveals his proven debt-cleansing methods. In simple, step-by-step instructions, you’ll learn how to…



- Assert your rights and defend yourself against creditors.

- Stop making payments — and turn that to your advantage.

- End harassing collection calls.

- Dispute your debts to stack the odds in your favor.

- Uncover deficiencies that can put money in your pocket.

- Protect your assets from creditors (100% legally).

- Negotiate the best possible settlements.

- Be debt-free for life.



Debt Cleanse shows you how to gain leverage over your creditors. You can settle your unaffordable debts for pennies on the dollar – and not pay some at all.

Don't let your debt burden you one more day. This book will set you free.





Praise for Debt Cleanse:

"Debt Cleanse by Jorge P. Newbery focuses on a revolutionary method of alleviating debt: don't pay. A phenomenal experience to learn how collection agencies work and the amount of laws and human rights they can break for the sake of collecting debt. Instructions are very, very useful." -Online Book Club



"The most comprehensive guide to getting out of debt. Recommended." -Self-Publishing Review



"Some of these steps may seem radical, even downright illicit, but could ultimately prove immensely useful to one looking to finally emerge from their debt." -Best Sellers World



"Debt Cleanse is not just another ‘how to get yourself out of debt’ book with chapter after chapter of theory. Newbery comes right out and hands you specific step by step instructions for whatever mess you are in. The great thing is his steps are from his own playbook. Newbery is ridding himself of millions in debt with his own system." -Top Book Reviewers



"DEBT CLEANSE is a thorough explanation of a largely non-conformist system to...stop the cycle of unaffordable debt." - Indie Reader



"Newbery’s story is both inspirational and incredible. His approach to ‘stuffing the straw’ of the elite is highly motivational, enabling ordinary people to crawl out from under the crushing weight of unaffordable debts and take back their lives." - Reader's Favorite


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About the Author

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Jorge P. Newbery is a successful entrepreneur, distressed debt and real estate investor, endurance athlete, and author. He turned around some of the country's most troubled housing complexes in amassing a portfolio of 4,000 apartments across the USA from 1992 - 2005. However, a natural disaster triggered a financial collapse in which he lost everything and emerged over $26 million in debt. He never filed bankruptcy. Instead he developed strategies to gain leverage over creditors to settle debts at huge discounts, or simply did not pay them at all. He is a veteran of dozens of court battles, once fighting a creditor to the Missouri Court of Appeals. The entire debt (over $5,800,000) was inadvertently extinguished due to sloppy legal work. As an athlete, Newbery raced bicycles for a living from 1986 - 1990 as a Category 1. He competed in the 1988 Olympic Trials and was 4th in the Spenco 500, a nonstop 500-mile bike race televised on ESPN. He also raced for the Costa Rican National Team in the Tour of Mexico, was 2nd in the 1987 Southern California State Championship Road Race, plus held the Green Jersey in the 1987 Vulcan Tour. Newbery also runs and has completed over 70 marathons and ultramarathons. In 2012, he was the overall winner of the Chicago Lakefront 50K. At 46-years-old, he was double the age of the 24-year-old second-place finisher. Today, Newbery helps others crushed by unaffordable debts rebuild their lives. Jorge is Founder and CEO of American Homeowner Preservation (AHP), a socially responsible hedge fund which purchases nonperforming mortgages from banks at big discounts, then shares the discounts with families to settle their mortgages at terms many borrowers find "too good to be true." Jorge's response to the nation's mortgage crisis creates meaningful social and financial returns for investors, while keeping families in their homes. AHP's mission is to facilitate win-win-win solutions for homeowners, investors and lenders. "Burn Zones: Playing Life's Bad Hands" is Jorge's autobiographical account of how he was pushed to his physical and mental limits during his time of strife, and how he overcame the challenges he faced. Jorge's latest book is: "Debt Cleanse: How To Settle Your Unaffordable Debts For Pennies On The Dollar (And Not Pay Some At All)," which provides step-by-step help for families overwhelmed by debt. Jorge is a regular contributor to Huffington Post and other publications, and speaks regularly on debt, investing, finance and housing issues.



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Monday, July 15, 2019

PROMO Blitz: Jerkwater


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Literary Fiction
Date Published: August 2, 2019

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Set in Mercer, Wisconsin, where tensions over Native American fishing rights are escalating, JERKWATER is a story about the racial tensions churning just beneath the surface of what often appears to be placid, everyday American life.





Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE: SHAWNA

There were spots in the lake where the anchor never hit bottom. The murkiness always fascinated Shawna. She knew it was only tangles of muskgrass and pondweed down there, but a part of her couldn’t help but imagine strange, never-before-seen creatures dwelling among the coontails and duckweed. Like Wisconsin anglerfish. Or some rare breed of dwarf whale. And maybe the lake was bottomless, like in those stories her mother used to tell her where Nanaboozhoo was always stumbling and laughing his way through the world.

     Shawna dug around inside the cooler. Her journal was peeking out from under a tin of sardines. Ever since the day her stepfather had taken her mother away from her, the journal had become a sort of artificial limb for Shawna. Or maybe an artificial organ, a somewhat bulky and awkward replacement for what had been her heart.

     “It’s not the world’s fault you’re lonely,” Shawna said out loud. It was something her mother used to say. The words came to her like that sometimes, like ghost ships sailing across the years, reminding her of who her mother had once been: a strong woman who’d been haunted by demons. White demons. Shawna picked up her journal and was sitting with her hand hovering over the page, waiting to take dictation from a dead woman, when she heard the muffled sounds of voices on the water. Then there was the echo of oars being worked in their sockets and a tackle box being slid across a metal hull. She lay flat on the ground, peering through the reeds, and spotted a man rowing quietly toward the island. There was a little boy in the boat, too, a little lump of a thing bundled up in a too-big camouflage coat and looking barely old enough to handle the pole he had dangling over the edge. Then, just as she thought they might row past, the man dropped anchor about forty feet out.

Shawna lowered her head and wondered about her boat, if they could see it. As she lay there frozen, she noticed a turtle sunning itself on one of the larger rocks near the island. It was an ugly thing with a head like a wrinkly old penis. The shell, though, was beautiful, almost like the yellow undercoating and the elaborate black hatch-marks were trying to make up for its unflattering head.

     “You want me to do it?”

     “No. I can do it.”

     “Then take this one. He’s nice and fat.”

     Shawna couldn’t see their faces all that well, but it was definitely them. It was like they were all in the same room together, the walls made of the mist still clinging to the lake. There was the crack of a can opening. Soda maybe. Or beer.

     “You hungry?”

     “No.”

     “You sure?”

     “I’m sure.”

The room became hushed, and Shawna watched the two figures hunched over their rods, waiting. For the man, the waiting seemed like a kind of forced meditation, like something he wasn’t all that interested in but that came with the territory of fishing. As for the boy, he didn’t seem to want to be there at all. That much Shawna could tell without seeing his face.

     “Here.” The man handed the boy something. “Eat.”

     “When we get back can we--?”

     “Quiet. You’ve got a bite.”

     Shawna watched the boy’s bobber. There were little ringlets pulsing out from it like sonar. Then nothing.

     “I think he ate my worm.”

     “Maybe. Reel it in a little.”

     The boy slowly reeled his line in, letting it stop every few feet or so. Then the bobber suddenly disappeared.

     “Look!”

     “Okay, okay. Let him take it now. That’s it.”

     “Can I reel him in now? Can I?”

     “Did you set the hook?”

     “I don’t know.”

     “Give it a little tug. Not too hard now.”

     Shawna could see the boy yank on the line, lifting the pole over his head.

     “Jesus, you’ll be lucky he still has a mouth left on him.” The man went about getting his net ready and leaning over the side of the boat as the boy pulled the fish closer. “See, I told you this was a good spot. Didn’t I tell you?”

     The man lowered the net into the water, but when he brought the fish up, it didn’t appear all that big to Shawna. Maybe a bluegill or sunfish. She watched as the boy reached into the net and was sprayed with water as the fish flipped and arched about. The man put the net down on the floor of the boat, no doubt stepping on the fish to keep it from flopping about, then ruffled the boy’s hair before carefully pulling the fish from the net and placing it on a stringer. Shawna figured they’d probably go home now, but the boy went back to staring blankly out at the water while the man began casting a bright yellow lure closer and closer to the bank of the island. Shawna guessed he was going for Muskie now since they were known to hide in weed beds. Ojibwa called them maashkinoozhe. Or “ugly pike.”

     “Can we go soon?”

     “Soon, Jack.”

     Shawna knew all too well who they were: Peyton Crane and his little boy. She’d made a sort of hobby over the past year or so of casually stalking them. Lately, though, it had become less casual. She noted the day and time in her journal next to the others.

Something was slid across the hull of the boat. “Here, have a pretzel. We’ll go back soon. I promise.” Peyton stood up in the boat, and Shawna got her first clear look at him. He was wearing a brown flannel jacket and a camouflage baseball cap, his dumb brown hair sticking out the back like burnt straw. The beer belly pushing out against his flannel made him appear older. And pregnant. Shawna smiled to herself. If that were true, ninety percent of the white men in town would be knocked-up.

     Shawna watched as the turtle, apparently having had enough of all the commotion, waddled off his rock and into the water. The turtle reminded her of a story her mother used to tell her about the world being flooded and Nanaboozhoo sitting on a log searching for land. In the story he tried to swim to the bottom of the lake to grab a handful of earth so he could create a new place to live, but the lake seemed bottomless. A loon, a mink, and a turtle also tried to reach the bottom, but all of them failed. Finally, a little muskrat tried. The muskrat didn’t survive, but when his lifeless body floated to the surface, they found a ball of earth still clutched in his paw. Nanaboozhoo put the ball on the turtle’s back and with the help of the wind from the four directions, the dirt grew into an island which is now North America. Ever since then, Ojibwa have revered the muskrat for his sacrifice, and, also the turtle for literally bearing the weight of the world.

As Shawna daydreamed about the turtle down below holding up the island, she heard something clatter in the branches overhead. There, not a foot away, was a lure with a treble hook swaying and glinting in the sunlight.

     “Jesus H. Christ.”

Peyton stood up and began yanking on the snagged line, rocking the small boat back and forth so that the boy was forced to set his pole down and grab the oars for support.

“Shit if I’m going to lose another lure to a goddamn tree.”

     When he eventually gave up and began reeling in the anchor, Shawna pulled the lure down and set the line between her teeth. It took a few bites but soon the lure came free and the line went slack. Shawna could see the boy staring intently at the island, and, for a brief moment, it seemed like they were staring at one another. Almost like the boy had seen what she had done but had decided to remain quiet.

     “Look. It came free.”

     Peyton turned to see his line lying limp and flaccid on the water, and Shawna thought she could see a smile spread across the boy’s face.

     “You promised we could play video games, ‘member?”

     Peyton stared hard at the island, like the thought of leaving the lure there somehow meant the island had won.

     “Yeah, I remember alright.”

     He then worked the boat around with one of the oars and began rowing them back across the lake. Shawna rolled over on her back and studied the lure in the sunlight wobbling its way through the leaves. It was a simple lure. Wooden. Handmade. She wondered idly if Peyton had ever caught anything with it. Save Two Walleyes – Spear A Pregnant Squaw. Too Bad Custer Ran Out Of Bullets. She remembered the protests and the bumper stickers on the boats from when she was a girl. She remembered, too, the hate white people had spewed at her relatives as they tried to dock with their boats full of walleye. “Ignorance,” her mother had told her, “is a dangerous thing. But now at least you know its face.”

     She turned the lure over in her hand, her fingers tracing the lines of the treble hook, pushing the barb gently against her thumb. She found herself thinking about the ceremonies the Plains Indians used to have where the boys pierced their skin with hooks and suspended themselves from chains as a rite of passage. She rested the lure against her shirt, brushing the metal back and forth across the cotton. She wondered how much pain a person could endure. She wondered if enjoying it would somehow invalidate it.

     Just as she was imagining her own skin being pulled and stretched, a moth landed on her knee. A gypsy moth. She recognized it because she always thought their floppy antennae made them look like little flying rabbits. They were hated by both whites and Chippewa alike because they were destroying large swaths of Wisconsin forest. It was one of the few things both agreed on. Shawna shooed the moth away, watching as it flitted up into the tree to work its mayhem, and rolled over onto her stomach before tossing the lure into the cooler.

She watched the now tiny boat as it docked along the southern edge of the lake. The poor kid didn’t stand a chance. Whether he wanted to be or not, he was a racist-in-training. Half the kid’s heart was probably already polluted, and by the time he reached high school, his insides would be entirely black. And what was worse was that things would continue on like that, the kid growing up, having his own kids, and then infecting them. And on and on and on. Like a cancer. Or like a gypsy moth making its home in the family tree. There was nothing for it to do but spread disease.


About the Author

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Jamie Zerndt is the author of THE CLOUD SEEDERS, THE KOREAN WORD FOR BUTTERFLY, and THE ROADRUNNER CAFE. His short story, “THIS JERKWATER LIFE”, was recently chosen as an Editor’s Pick in Amazon’s Kindle Singles store. He received an MFA in Writing from Pacific University and now lives in Portland, Oregon, with his son.







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Sunday, July 14, 2019

PROMO Blitz: Murder in Palm Beach by @RobertBrink7 #mystery #excerpt #promo #freebook @RABTBookTours


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Murder Mystery 
Publisher: Precipice Press


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The doorbell rings in the home of a prominent Palm Beach citizen, quickly followed by a shotgun blast that shatters a window, cracking the calm of a cool January night. Rodger Kriger falls to the floor, mortally wounded, leaving a wife and six children.

Murder in Palm Beach: The Homicide That Never Died is closely based on a sensational, real murder that happened in the posh ocean-side town in 1976. In the thin guise of fiction, the book contains shocking new information never before made public. Author Bob Brink, an award-winning journalist, was a newspaper reporter in the locale where the  assassination occurred. It made media headlines for 15 years.

An ambitious prosecutor pins the deed on Mitt Hecher, a hoodlum and karate expert. At Hecher’s trial, fellow jail inmates testify that he confessed. He is convicted and sentenced to the brutal and anarchic state prison at Raiford, where a stabbing a day and a killing a week are the “mean” average.

Judges repeatedly frustrate Hecher and several attorneys working without fees to get a new trial, as investigators pursue myriad scenarios. Meanwhile, his wife contracts a deadly disease.

Was Hecher innocent, and if so, who did it? Did the sons of a wealthy Cuban kill Kriger? Were the operators of a gambling enterprise out to get him? Was a love triangle the basis for the shooting? Did a vicious underworld figure do the bidding of a criminal gang? Was a prominent politician behind the slaying? Those are the questions seeking answers amid the exploration of issues of justice and power.

Murder in Palm Beach is the saga of a battle between a man whose swagger has sent him spiraling to the bottom and powerful, sinister forces determined to keep him there. It is a narrative of redemption wrapped in a mystery tale reeking with power, sex, and violence. It also contains a heart-rending love story.



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 Excerpt





“Johnny Traynor?” “Who’s this?”

Palladin did not remember him sounding timorous. “An acquaintance from way back. Tom Palladin.”

“Oh, yes. I remember. Haven’t seen you around for a long time.”

“I had a little difficulty finding your new number. Finally got it from a friend of yours, Davey Ross.”

“Oh, yeah, I moved inland a few years ago.”

“You used to live near the Shore Club. I thought you liked hanging out there. Why would you want to leave the neighborhood?

“Well … to tell the truth, things got a little dicey.” “You talking about the Kriger murder?”

“Well … uh … yeah, sort of.”

“I’d like to get together with you and chat about that. I have some new information.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I don’t know if I have anything that will help you.”

“Where do you live?”

Traynor gave directions to a duplex apartment on the west side of West Palm Beach.

“How about two p.m. tomorrow?” Palladin asked.

“Yeah, that’s okay. I’m working on a guy’s car, and I’ve got plenty of time to finish it.”

“See you then.”

The neighborhood was seedy. Most of the houses were small, run-down, wood-frame structures. Early-model cars and trucks, the paint usually fading, occupied driveways, littered lawns, or sat on the street in front. Patches of dried grass sprinkled with pale green contrasted with splotches of bare, sandy earth, like the shabby clothes of a tramp with tatters that revealed his skin. Traynor’s duplex was the only property on the block that didn’t look slummy to Palladin: a white, concrete-block structure with sidewalks leading to two screen doors opening to wooden front doors. Prosaic, but the grass was mostly green, and the car in the driveway, only a few years old, looked well-cared-for.

He parked on the street and walked to the unit on the right.

Opening the screen door, he knocked.

It  struck  Palladin  like  a  light  flipped  on  in  a  dark   room.

Something was different about the man who opened the door. “Come  in,”  Traynor  said.  He  gestured  toward  an  armless,

cushiony chair. “Sit down. Want a beer? Or Coke? I mean, you want a Coca Cola?” Paladdin noticed he was unsteady.

“Thanks. Are you renting here?”

“No. I bought the duplex and rent out the other half. Gives me a little income.”

“Your place doesn’t look bad. Best one on the block.”

“I’ve gotta keep it up in order to rent it out. I rent it month-to- month and charge a big rate. A lot of my renters are people with criminal backgrounds like me who can’t find anyplace else. That’s why I bought this place. Nobody would rent to me.”

Palladin could see what had changed in the man. No longer exuding cocky self-confidence, he appeared timid, almost frightened. Sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette, his hand trembled. Then it hit Palladin. Coke. The quick clarification of the offer of Coca Cola. Traynor was a cocaine addict.

“Let me tell you why I called. I found out something from a couple of sources. I know who shot Rodger Kriger.”

Palladin saw Traynor blanch. He looked without seeing at Palladin, then raised the cigarette to his lips with a shaky hand and took his time inhaling. He turned his head to blow the smoke away from his guest.

“I think you know who it is, too.”

Traynor leaned forward to the glass-topped coffee table

and snuffed his cigarette out in a small plastic ash tray. He straightened and looked away from Palladin, who noticed his face was grave.

“If it gets out that I told you this, I’ll prob’ly get killed.” He turned to look at Palladin. “You understand? You have to agree not to publish this.”

Palladin said he wouldn’t publish Traynor’s name, but would use the information he provided to dig for details about the murder. Traynor said he was okay with that.

“I drove the getaway car.”


About the Author


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Bob Brink is a journalist who worked with the Palm Beach Post, The Associated Press in Chicago, Milwaukee Journal, Tampa Tribune, Joliet Herald-News, and Palm Beach Media Group (magazines). His byline has been on thousands of news stories, features, and entertainment reviews.
He has been a freelance writer for several years, and is the author of several books. To promote his current novel, MURDER IN PALM BEACH: The Homicide That Never Died, he has a website, www.bobbrinkwriter.com. From the site, he blogs on three passions: grammar, alternative health care, and socio-political issues.

Brink’s first book, A TALE OF TWO CONTINENTS: Jetting Across the Globe to Have a Baby, is a short memoir that he ghost-wrote for a woman. Almost simultaneously, he authored BREAKING OUT, a coming-of-age novel about a troubled young man. Recently, he compiled a book of short stories titled THE WAY IT WAS: Short Stories and Tall Tales.

Brink has won numerous writing accolades and several awards, including three for Palm Beach Illustrated, which won the Best Written Magazine award from the Florida Magazine Association after he became copy chief and senior writer.

He was a reporter for the Palm Beach Post when the crime that MURDER IN PALM BEACH is based on occurred. It was an enormously sensational event that was featured six years later on a national TV show, and made newspaper headlines for 15 years. A karate expert went to prison for the deed, but many doubted his guilt. A newspaper reporter spent years investigating, and made shocking discoveries about the assassination and the person behind it.

Besides dabbling in short-story writing over the years, Brink immersed himself in learning to play the clarinet and tenor saxophone. He performed many years with an estimable, 65-piece community symphonic band, and played a few professional big band gigs. He relegated music to the back seat after embarking on writing novels. He is a fairly proficient ballroom dancer and a health enthusiast.

A product of Michigan and Iowa, Brink has a bachelor’s degree in English from Drake University in Des Moines and completed graduate journalism studies at the University of Iowa.



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Friday, July 12, 2019

PROMO Blitz: You Don't Belong Here #chirldrensbook #promo @RABTBookTours


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Children's Book
Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing
Published: January 2019

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Two muskrat brothers become displaced due to a storm and end up in a lady’s backyard. They make a big mess back there, and the lady decides it’s time for them to go. She calls a pest control company who comes and sets traps to catch them. He catches one of the muskrats and relocates him in a forest near a pond. He and his brother had never been apart before, and now he was all alone in an unfamiliar place. Some other animals approached him while he was drinking from the pond. They had never seen a muskrat before and were not as welcoming as he would have liked—until the muskrat proved himself worthy of living there by helping the animals defeat a dangerous foe. The other animals realized that he had some unique qualities and skills and did in fact belong at the pond, and they became friends. And someone special may have rejoined the muskrat to make for a happy ending.


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About the Author

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Sean O'Toole is a pest control operator from Long Island New York. He has a wife, a teenage stepson, and 2 young kids of his own. He got the idea of the book while working at a house in Long Beach New York and caught 2 muskrats in traps and noticed how peculiar and cute they were and also how destructive. Sean dedicates this book to his 2 sons Dylan and Brayden.





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