Sinnerman: Chapter One Sneak Peek

Murder in Mind
Sloane Monroe Series Book 2

Chapter One Sneak Peek

Sam Reids reclined back into the seat of his black 1970 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme and examined the women that shuffled in and out of the supermarket like predictable herds of cattle. It had been three long years since he felt the steady churn of butterflies in his stomach, but the anticipation of the nights soon to be events made it all worthwhile. The wait hadn’t been easy, and whenever he felt he couldn’t control his urges any longer he walked down the steep series of steps that led to the basement and gazed at the trinkets he’d collected. They were all spaced two inches apart in single-file formation on a shelf. In total, there were fifteen glass bottles. Each container had a white label about the size of a post-it note affixed to the front with the date and a name written in thick black marker.

Over the past few years Sam visited them often and took special care to dust and polish their exteriors, but he never opened them once they’d been sealed. He didn’t want to take a chance that one of his precious mementos could get spoiled. Sometimes he took one to his room and deposited it on the stand next to him while he slept. When he woke during the night to the illuminated glow that shone through the glass from the lamp above, he felt a sensation of peace, like a child that watched the constant spin of the mobile over their crib. It wasn’t the same thrill he’d experienced when he secured the object within the bottle, but it helped him pass the time.

Through his binoculars, Sam observed two women walk out of the store together; one carried a brown paper sack in her hand and the other, a gallon of milk. The one with the sack showed promise. Her long espresso-colored hair flickered in the wind. It reminded him of flames from a forest fire fighting its way across acres of trees. He waited for her to say goodbye to her friend and then placed his binoculars on the seat next to him. His palms expelled an oily substance that spread until they were both drenched with sweat. The time had come.

Sam grabbed an unused diaper from the passenger seat and pushed his car door open. At the same time, the woman unlocked her passenger side door and bent down and placed the sack of groceries on the seat of her car. She was too preoccupied to hear him approach.

“Excuse me,” he said.

The woman retracted out of the car and turned and faced him.

“Do I know you?”

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said with a crooked smile, “but do you know how to change a diaper?”

She looked at the diaper in his hand and then back at him.

“Who do you ask?”

“My sister asked me to watch my nephew for a few hours, and I can’t seem to get the darn thing on right.”

He angled the diaper in the direction of his car.

“My car’s right over there,” he said. “Do you think you could help me?”

The woman hesitated and studied the man’s car for a moment and then shrugged her shoulders.

“I really need to get home.”

The man smiled, but not just any smile. It was one he’d practiced in the mirror over and over again until it conveyed what he needed it to—trust me.

“It will only take a minute,” he said.

They walked over to Sam’s car, and he was careful to remain a few paces behind her. He glanced over his left shoulder and then his right. All was still, and since the store closed in five minutes, he was certain it would remain that way.

He watched the woman peek through the window of his car and relished the startled look on her face when she didn’t see a baby. With a perplexed look, she turned and faced him.

“Where’s the­–”

The man reached into the front pocket of his hoodie with all the calmness of a drug addict who’d just smoked a bag of weed and pulled out a needle and inserted it into her shoulder. In an instant her body went limp and she sagged into him.

Happy anniversary, he thought to himself.

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Black Diamond Death: Chapter One Sneak Peek

Black Diamond Death 
Sloane Monroe Series Book One

Chapter One Sneak Peek

The air was calm, but I was restless. I had a decision to make so I did what I always do when push comes to shove––I shoved back, but not in the way one might think. Skiing had always been my release. There was something about being surrounded by fresh powder in the clean, open air that reminded me what it felt like to be alive. I could stand on a mountaintop with a world of trouble on my mind, and it didn’t matter. Every care I had dissolved just like the snow soon would and the mountain would be reduced to tiny patches of white, mere remnants of a ski slope that once provided the town’s entertainment for the season.

In a few minutes I’d get together with Audrey for lunch and do something that didn’t come easy––tell her the truth. It wasn’t that I lied to her; I was a master in the fine art of keeping things to myself. I always thought it was better that way. But I was wrong to allow her limited access to my life, and I wanted to change that. So I’d explain it all to her, and once I finished I would reveal my plan and hope she’d understand. She just had to.

I rounded the last narrow pass on the slope and traveled downhill through the trees. My tongue had gone numb over the past couple hours and every time my teeth hit against it I felt nothing, like it wasn’t even there, and my throat felt like a strand of lit matches were pressed hard against it. I wondered if I was getting sick. That would explain the unrest in my stomach. The flu had made its way around town so it made sense that it would make it to me, but if it was the flu, why had I lost all the feeling in my face?

I ran my gloved hand across my goggles, but it didn’t help––even when I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again the trail in front of me was a blur. With what little force I had left, I jammed my poles into the snow and tried to stop, but the slope was too steep and I couldn’t bend my hands or even move them for that matter. My fingers felt like long shards of ice and in one simultaneous motion they launched a mass of frozen liquid throughout my body. What was happening to me?

In a panic I gasped for air, but there wasn’t any. I tried to cry out, but I was alone, and in my hysteria it hit me. I had felt a similar feeling before––like my body was giving out on me, and I knew what it meant.

I was dying.

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Blog Tour Wednesday with my Guest John Nuckel

Please welcome my guest John Nuckel to my blog today.  He is the author of The Vig, a new thriller that takes you into the heart of Wall Street, exposing a side of darkness and corruption rarely seen.

INTERVIEW

Tell me about yourself, how you became to be a writer, and why you are a writer. 

I’ve always written, but it wasn’t until recently that I attempted to become a writer. I was the go to guy for toasts, business presentations and speeches. I’ve always viewed my writing as a hobby, something just for me. I took a writing class at the New York Writers studio. In that class I intentionally joined a group whose members had all been published. As the weeks went by, I realized that my work was just as good as theirs, so I decided to go for it. Of course, this was five years ago.

Tell me about your novel—what inspired it?

My novel, The Vig, was inspired by true events and also recent events in the financial industry. I worked downtown for years and ran into a number of characters that were more animated than anything I could make up. I also grew up on what would be considered the wrong side of the tracks. The novel combines both of these worlds. After all, bookies and bankers are not that different, as the world has seen in the last few years. 

How did you choose the title of the novel?

The Vig was chosen to evoke the similarities between the world of finance and organized crime. Although most people have heard the word vig when it comes to illegal gambling, it is often used on the trading floors and trading desks around the world. The Vig could be a commission or a payoff, a management fee or a tribute, the price of a spread or a kick back. I’ve found that whether it’s a banker in Armani or a gangster in a track suit, they both make their money in the vig. 

What made you choose your particular genre?

I’ve worked on the trading floor of the American Stock Exchange for years and I’ve also grown up with some questionable characters. I’ve always seen the similarities between both worlds. When you break it down, most Wall Street scandals are the type of deal you would hear being done on the docks. A pay off to recommend a stock, inside information, none of it is very complicated. It’s about greed and weakness. As I say in the book “it’s a simple trade wrapped in a complicated package.” I also wanted to write about the decisions that people make and what motivates them. My lead character takes a bribe to look the other way when he discovers a simple scam that really isn’t hurting anyone. Of course there are consequences. In a novel the consequences are immediate but in life they take a little longer.

What’s the next project for you?  Tell the readers about it.

I’ve written a short story, The Garden, It is being published by TLT publishing in early summer of 2012. The story is part of a collection entitled New Beginnings. Proceeds will go to various Japanese Tsunami relief funds. The Garden is a radical departure from The Vig. It’s a love story with a bit of fantasy.

What character from your book(s) are you like the most and why?

As with most authors, I think there is a little of me in each character. All of them do share a black and white view of the world. There are very few shades of grey. I can be a bit black and white myself. What interests me is that both main characters have similar back rounds but have chosen different paths.

Let’s put the novel aside and talk about YOU for a minute—what are your hobbies and what can’t you live without that’s non-book related?  What do you do when you are not writing?  If you could live anywhere in the world, where would that be?

I’m a full time financial advisor. I work with a select group of clients. I devote a lot of time to them. I think of myself as more of a coach than an investment advisor. I do love spending time with my family. I’m off to my daughter’s basketball game after this.

Where would I live??? Florence comes to mind or maybe Telluride. My wife and I would love to spend some time in various places around the world. It’s a big world with lots to discover.

If a reader asked you to recommend the three BEST books to read, aside from your own, what would they be? 

The Great Gatsby 

Lonesome Dove

Anything by Raymond Chandler

I love Fitzgerald for his prose, McMurtry for his characters, and Chandler for his efficiency of words.

If you could have dinner with one author, who would it be?

Hemmingway or Fitzgerald. Although I can’t drink like I used too.

Post where you can be found—website, blog, twitter, facebook, etc.

I have a The Vig facebook page. Johnnuckel@gmail.com or www.diversifiedassetmgmt.com

Thanks Cheryl.

Indie Chicks Series with my Guest Cheryl Shireman

Please welcome Author Cheryl Shireman to my blog today.  She is not only a part of the Indie Chicks Anthology, she is also the one who came up with the idea and made it all possible.  Aside from all that, she is also a great writer.  If you haven't checked out her Life Is But a Dream, Grace Adams Series, you should.

And here's her write-up in the Indie Chicks Anthology:

I Burned My Bra For This? One Woman's Fantasy

By Cheryl Shireman

I’m a Baby Boomer. Which means that I remember bell-bottoms, Happy Days, and having only three channels on the television. I played Donny Osmond albums on a record player. My parents watched Gunsmoke, and on Sunday nights we all watched The Wonderful World of Disney. In the living room. Together. On the only television we owned. Imagine that! I remember the first time I saw Bonanza in color. I remember the first time I heard about remote controls for televisions. The whole idea seemed ridiculous. With three channels, really, how often would it be needed? I remember the Watergate hearings playing on the television when I came home from school. 

I also remember watching feminists (does anyone use that word anymore?) burn their bras and march for equal rights. I grew up believing that a woman deserves equal pay for equal work and that a woman is not defined by the man she marries or by the children she gives birth to. In fact, we were told that both men and children were optional. The idea seemed revolutionary at the time. It still does. Women were mad as hell and they weren’t taking it anymore. We called it Women’s Liberation, and though it was never said, it was certainly implied (and believed in most circles) that a woman who did not work was a bit inferior to a career woman. That was when such women were called housewives and not “stay at home” moms. Women were divided into two groups – those who worked and those who didn’t. Back then, no one thought that staying home and taking care of a family and home was work. The women of my generation wanted more, demanded more, and believed we were entitled to just that – more. We sometimes looked at our own mothers, most of whom did not have real jobs, as women who simply did not understand that there was more to life than being a mother. If truth be told, we thought they were a bit simple-minded and we secretly vowed to do more with our lives.

And yet…as this Baby Boomer looks at her life, I realize nothing I have ever done, or will ever do, is as important as being a mother. Not career, volunteer work, graduate school, or any creative pursuit. Nothing else even comes close to being a mother. Period.

One of my children lives half an hour away, another is one state away, and the third is on the other side of the world in Denmark. Yesterday, my husband and I spent the entire day with our two-year-old granddaughter. She then spent the night. As I write this, I hear her gentle breathing in the baby monitor positioned atop the table close to where I sit.

To say that my children, and now my granddaughter, have filled my life with love and joy is an understatement. As children, they expanded my heart in ways I could never have imagined. For the first time in my life, I not only understood, but received unconditional love. As adults, they are three people that I know I can always count on. They will always be there for me. Just as I will always be there for them. Can you say the same about your career?

There used to be a television show called Fantasy Island. People visited the island and lived out their fantasies – no matter how wild (okay, not that wild – this was primetime family tv in the seventies). Not too long ago, my husband and I had a discussion about that old tv show and asked each other – What would your fantasy be? Mine was easy. If I could have a Fantasy Island day, I would relive one day with my children. My son would be 10, which would make my daughters 4 and 2. We would spend the day doing whatever they wanted. Going to the park, going to the movies, playing games, baking cookies, or just sitting on the floor playing with Legos and Barbies. I would hug them a lot. And kiss the tops of their heads. And take tons of pictures. I wouldn’t cook. I wouldn’t clean. And I wouldn’t worry about my career.

I would watch my son show his younger sisters how to do things, like he always did in his older brother sort of way. I would watch my 2 year-old daughter follow her older 4 year-old sister around the room, shadowing her every move. Just as she did, even through their college years when they shared an apartment near Indiana University. I would watch the older sister taking care of her younger sister, as if she were her baby. Which is what she called her when she was born – my baby.

Bedtime would be later than usual on that fantasy night. I would tuck them into their beds, fresh from baths and smelling of shampoo. The girls smelling like baby lotion. My son would hug me goodnight with his long skinny arms and tell me he loves me. And I would feel the truth in that. I would tuck in my girls and tell them it is time to go to sleep. I would take extra care in covering the older girl’s feet, because she always kicked her blankets off during the night. I would kiss the baby and hold her a little longer, because I would know that, as I type this she is in Denmark which makes visiting tough.

And, as I walk down the hall and turn out the lights, I would call out to all of them, as I always did… “Goodnight. Love you. Sweet dreams. See you in the morning.”

And that would be my fantasy day. Oddly enough, it has nothing to do with my career as a writer. Even though being a writer has always been my dream. My first novel, Life is But a Dream: On the Lake, was published earlier this year. The main character, Grace Adams, is a woman facing an empty nest and the possible demise of her marriage. Grace withdraws to a secluded lake cabin to redefine her life and try to find a reason to continue living. While at the lake, Grace not only finds renewed purpose and hope, but when things take a turn for the worse at the lake, she finds a strength she never knew she possessed. The novel is thought-provoking, sometimes frightening, and often funny (just like life). It is also, very definitely, fiction.

I'm not Grace. Even though my “nest” is empty, I am enjoying this time and this new focus on my career. I am not suicidal or lacking in purpose. My husband and I both work from home (he designs websites), we live on a lake, and our schedule is our own. It is truly a wonderful time in our lives. Sometimes I have popcorn for dinner. Enough said.

But, would my current life be as wonderful if I had not pursued career and graduate school and developed the skills I am using now? Probably not. I managed to combine work and school and motherhood. I believed I could have it all, and do it all, but to be honest – the kids always came first. And being a mother is the strongest and best part of my identity. It is the thing I am most proud of. My greatest achievement. And, once in a while, I miss those days when toys where scattered across the floor, the washer was always running, and we bought eight gallons of milk a week.

If you have children at home, cherish those simple every-day moments with them. They really will be gone in the blink of an eye – sooner than you can possibly imagine. Put this book down. Now. Go sit on the floor and play a game. Pop some popcorn, put on one of their favorite movies, and cuddle up on the couch. Live that “fantasy” right now. You will never be able to recapture these moments. Enjoy them now. There is no greater gift than the love of your children. Spend the rest of your day letting it pour over you. And pour your love right back over them. You can come back to this book tonight, after they are asleep.

As I type this, I can hear my granddaughter waking up. I am shutting my computer off. Right now, I am going to go upstairs and scoop her up from her crib. She will probably wrap her little arms around my neck and ask, “Play blocks, Bomb Bomb?”

And we will play blocks.

This is one story from Indie Chicks: 25 Women 25 Personal Stories available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. To read all of the stories, buy your copy today. All proceeds go to the Susan G. Komen Foundation for Breast Cancer.

Also included are sneak peeks into 25 novels! My novel, Life Is But a Dream: On The Lake, is one of the novel excerpts featured. It is available at most online retailers in trade paperback as well as e-book formats.

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Barnes & Noble

Now You See's It, Now You Don't

When I was a child I remember going to my grandma's house for Christmas and, of the many gifts she received, she always had a box of See's candy by her side that she never shared, and I mean never. 

I grew up in California, which is synonymous with See's since it is headquartered in San Francisco, but now you can get it almost anywhere--even in airports and libraries--but there is still one place you can't get it: where I live. 

So this year when I found out my local library had a few dozen boxes for sale, and knowing the closest See's location is like 2.5 hours away, I was attached to my box like a baby to a pacifier dipped in sugar water.  And I felt even more privileged when I found out I'd bought the last box of savory dark chocolate's. 

Unlike my grandmother, I decided to share my delectable box of goodness with my two smalls.  I opened the box, displayed the various options to both girls and told them they could each pick two.  After all, I remember what it felt like to ogle my grandmother's box and wish that just once she would give me a single, solitary piece.  What better way to break the trend than to offer a couple from my own box to my kids?  And when I did, it was a pat-my-hand-on-my-back moment.  I was the good Samaritan of my household.  My kids looked at me with more awe than they look at Santa Claus, and a headline formed in my head: Cheryl Bradshaw wins mother of the year.

With my good deed done and the cycle of unshared chocolate broken, I went ahead and had my own piece.  And by that, I mean one piece.  The next day I ran an errand and left my teenager home to watch over the smalls for about an hour.  I return home and they are in such good moods I decide they should be rewarded with another piece of candy.  So I go into my room to retrieve the box, but it isn't there, and I could have sworn I'd moved it to my bedroom the day before.  I'm too young to forget to do things like that, right?

By this time I'm in hot pursuit of the See's candy box, and I find it on the sofa in the same place I'd left it the day before.  I guess I'd only moved it to my room in my mind, which is some kind of Jedi mind gift I didn't realize I had.  I look around and notice my kids have went to their room to play.  I call them out to reward them for being so good while I was away, but first I make them a sandwich and go chill in my room for a few minutes.  My oldest small eats her sandwich faster than I can take a piece of gum out of the wrapper and pop it into my mouth.  And I think, hmmm. So I ask her if she ate it all, and she says, "Yes."  But the longer I think about it, the more it doesn't bode well.  I use my newly acquired Jedi senses and go into the kitchen and open the lid to the trash can.  Therein lay the sandwich--uneaten.

For effect I go to the sofa and reach for the box of See's candy to show her that I was going to give her one as a treat, but she didn't eat her sandwich and on top of that, she lied about it.  Guess what that means?

I pick up the box.

And I notice how light and airy it feels.

And I think to myself, that's pretty light for a five pound box.

I remove the lid.

Even the wrappers are gone.

I look at my two smalls and they look at the floor like it's part of the glittery road in the land of Oz.  I say, "What happened to my candy?"

In unison they reply, "I dunno..." and look at each other like they'd formed some super secret sister pact.  But guess what kids?  Mommy had a sister when she was younger too.

In that moment I was stripped of my mother of the year award.  They had stolen and lied about it.  Awesome.

In the end it turned out that the smaller of my smalls had one piece.  She's not really one to rock the boat, and I believe she was under duress from the older small to sample a piece, so she did.  And when I found part of it stuck to the side of the sofa, I realized she hadn't felt good about what she did and sticking it into the side of the cushion had been the remedy she needed to sooth her feelings of regret.

The older small, however...different story.  She ate the entire box and then thought she could somehow convince me that the chocolate had mysteriously evaporated during my brief stint away from the house.  She did eventually fess to the crime and is currently serving time in a sugar-free zone.

Oh, and if you're wondering where my teenager was during all this, in her room, of course!  And yes, with the door shut.  I think it goes without saying that she has been relieved of her babysitting duties. ;)

Until next time...

HOLIDAY HOP WINNERS!!!

Drum roll please....

The winner of a signed copy of my book, Black Diamond Death, is Susan Leech. 

And my grand prize winner of the gift from Santa is Na Sok.

The Holiday Hop Grand Prize Winner will be announced later this week on the Holiday Hop site once all the author's have submitted their winners.  Good luck to all!!!

Get Black Diamond Death FREE for Five Days ONLY!

Starting today, December 25th to December 29th, the first novel in my Sloane Monroe series, Black Diamond Death, is FREE on Amazon Kindle.  Yep, FREE.  Zero, zip, nada.

Black Diamond Death is currently:

#4 in Spy Stories and Tales of Intrigue

#9 in Hard Boiled

#20 in Mysteries

#34 in Thrillers

This is my way of saying thank you for all the support this year to my friends, fans, and family.  And to say Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to ALL.  ENJOY!