Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Minotaur Revisited


David Gelber

Legend states that the Minotaur was confined to the Labyrinth, slain by Theseus and then laid to rest by thousands of years of Greek mythology. But, the truth is far different. Read the Minotaur’s own words as he recounts his full life as god, king, warrior, matchmaker, midwife, monk, sage, father, mother, husband and, most of all, witness. The fierce Minotaur lived to see and be a part of the best and worst of humanity during a life spanning thousands of years. Part bull, part human, the Minotaur struggled to find his place in this world and, in the end, left his unique mark on history.


David Gelber, a New York native, is the seventh of nine sons and one of three to pursue medicine. He graduated from Johns Hopkins University in 1980 and went on to graduate medical school in 1984 from the University of Rochester.

He completed his residency at Baylor University Medical Center in Dallas, Texas, followed by three years as attending surgeon at Nassau County Medical Center in Long Island, N.Y. Gelber has since joined Coastal Surgical Group in Houston, Texas.

Gelber has been a surgeon for more than 20 years, but over the last few years he began to pursue his passion for writing, initially with his debut novel, "Future Hope" (Emerald Book Company, January 2010). The novel speculates about future Earth and what the world might have been like if man had not succumbed to temptation in the Garden of Eden. "Joshua and Aaron" is a sequel to "Future Hope" and follows the battle of wills that transpires between unsung hero Joshua Smith and satanic Aaron Diblonski.

Dr. Gelber has added two books about surgery, "Behind the Mask" and "Under the Drapes", both of which provide the reader with a view of the world of surgery rarely seen by those outside the medical professions.

"Last Light" is an apocalyptic short story which starts off asking the question: "What would happen if nobody ever was sick or injured?"

"Minotaur Revisited" is an entertaining romp through history seen through the eyes of Quint, the famed half bull half man monster of Greek Mythology. It was in October 2012.

Gelber was raised in reformed Judaism, but joined the Presbyterian Church 15 years ago. He is married with three teenage children, four dogs and 24 birds of various species. His interests include horse racing, mechanical Swiss watches and, of course, writing.


David will be awarding a $100 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn commenter at the conclusion of the two tours.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

ExcerpTuesday: Rose Anderson

The Witchy Wolf and the Wendigo

by Rose Anderson
Book 1 – Ashkewheteasu

What does an immortal Native American shaman do when the grave he’s sworn to watch over for all eternity disappears under urban development?

His purpose of guarding his wife’s burial mound gone, Ashkewheteasu seeks to end his immortal existence. In his despair, he assumes the form of a wolf and steps in front of a moving car and into the life of Dr. Olivia “Livie” Rosalini. The veterinarian saves the animal’s life, and in the process saves the man within. Unbeknownst to Livie, the dog she’s taken into her home and grows to love is a magical being seeking to win her heart as a man.

While Ash is learning a new world filled with new love, friendship, and happiness, an old menace makes plans to steal it all away; just as he had 3000 years before.

Setting the Stage: Ash and Livie have dinner with her friends, and Ash the ancient shaman is exposed to beer for the first time. At this point, Livie still has no idea he lives in her house as a wolfish-looking dog.


Startled, they broke away from each other, looked at one other with wide eyes, and then laughed. His eyes twinkling with humor, he informed her, “I’m feeling very happy, Livie. I’ll see you soon.” With that, he turned and jogged off into the night.

“Hey!” She laughingly called, then put the car in park in case he returned. Several long minutes passed. She got out and called into the night. When he didn’t return, she headed home. Touching a fingertip to her tingling lips, she realized that man made her feel things she’d never felt in her life. And she wanted him — badly.


Ash felt odd. The sensation was not unlike the altered mental state brought about by the ordeals of his training, when his mind ventured in another world while his body stayed in this one. His earlier jumble of thoughts returned. It is the beer. The beer is bringing this sensation. It was only a guess but the odd feeling was intensifying since the last two glasses.

Knowing he had to resume his wolf form at Livie’s home, he took a deep breath and shifted, but his inebriated mind was not concentrating and he ended up with a raven’s head atop his man’s body. He tried again. Forgetting that he still wore clothes, he found himself a small bird, pinned and struggling under the heavy garments that had fallen to the ground in a heap. He shifted into a feathered snake before taking the form of a mouse and working his way out of a sleeve.

The movement caught the attention of an owl on its nightly hunting foray. Just as it was about to swoop low on silent wings, intent on nabbing the large field mouse, a naked man with a mouse tail and whiskers appeared. The owl, clearly startled, flew off into the night. Laughing, Ash raised his arms and yelled after it, “This is not your night, my brotherrrr!”

Tail and whiskers absorbed into his changing form and once again bare skin grew feathers. He shifted into a raven — a six-foot-tall raven. Laughing at himself, he made his body small and flew fast to Livie’s home, albeit not in a straight line.

About Rose:

I love words and choose them as carefully as an artist might choose a color. My active imagination compels me to write everything from children’s stories to historical fiction. As a persnickety leisure reader I especially enjoy novels that feel like they were written just for me. It’s hard to explain, but if you’ve ever read one of those, then you know what I mean. I tend to sneak symbolism and metaphor into my writing and always write in layers. You might say it’s a game I play with myself. It’s really a kick to have readers email to say they’ve found something or to ask if I meant what they think I meant when they read a portion and their brain goes, hey wait a minute… I want people to feel the story was written just for them and these hidden insights are my gift to my readers.

Just a few of oh so many links!
Loving Leonardo Buy Link:
Main Blog:
Satellite Blog:

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Trish Jackson

Find out how author Trish Jackson went from Africa to Florida.!trish-jackson/cbob

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

ExcerpTuesday: Bisi Leyton

Wisteria and Myopia (Wisteria series 1&2)

by Bisi Leyton
BLURB for Wisteria:

Sixteen year old Wisteria Kuti has two options—track the infected around the Isle of Smythe or leave the only known safe haven and face a world infested with flesh eating biters. But even with well-armed trackers, things go wrong and Wisteria ends up alone facing certain death, until she is rescued by the mysterious Bach. Uninfected, Bach is able to survive among the hordes of living dead.

Eighteen year old Bach, from a race known as The Family, has no interest in human affairs. He was sent here to complete his Great Walk and return home as a man—as a Sen Son. The Family regard humans as Dirt People, but Bach is drawn to this Terran girl, whom he has never seen before, but somehow knows.

Hunted by flesh eaters, cannibals, and the mysterious blood thirsty group called Red Phoenix, Wisteria and Bach make their way back to the Isle of Smythe, a community built on secrets and lies.

BLURB for Myopia:

Sixteen-year-old Wisteria has embraced her deep bond with eighteen-year-old Bach, a member of a supernatural race called the Family, despite the risk of his family finding out. Should Bach’s people discover his bond with a human, Wisteria will be guaranteed a painful and bloody death—but somehow, being together is more important.

Their bond is tested when empirics, an elite group of Family investigators, are sent to the Isle of Smythe under the orders of Bach’s father to find artifacts stolen by the humans. They’re to find the artifacts at any cost. Among the empirics is Bach’s old friend, the stunning Alba, who has learned about Bach and Wisteria’s secret relationship, and surprisingly accepts this. With no one else in the Family to turn to, she becomes Bach’s ally and confidant, but possibly more.

As the empirics start to take over the town, Wisteria is torn between trusting Bach and the safety of the humans on Smythe. She soon realizes that she and Bach are on opposite sides of the war between the Family and Humans, and there is no middle ground. One of them must choose a side.

Excerpt Wisteria
Thirteen months after the first official case of Nero Disease

“Wisteria, run!” Rebecca O’Leary screamed over the radio.

Wisteria Kuti whipped around and came face-to-face with the blood-red eyes of a hungry flesh-eating biter. The biter was a man, infected by Nero Disease, who had long lost his mind. He looked more animal than human and he wanted one thing—to feed on the flesh of uninfected people. The biter growled and staggered toward Wisteria.

She fled down the deserted road to the nearest house. The front door was locked. She kicked at the door, but it didn’t open. Taking out her handgun, she smashed through the window of the door.

“Ugh,” more biters growled behind her.

She spun around, fired once, and hit one in the head. She unlocked the door by reaching in and turning the lock. Once inside, she chained and bolted the door.

Crash—a biter smashed through another window into the house.

Wisteria’s heart jumped and she darted up the stairs as fast as she could.

“Get out of the house, Wisteria!” Rebecca radioed.

I’m trying.

A biter grabbed her ankle as she ran. Falling hard on the steps, she wailed in pain. “Ah.” No time to cry, Wisteria. She fired at the biter holding her. One bullet left.

Three more biters appeared below and started coming up the stairs. Leaping up, she sprinted to the top floor and dashed into the first open doorway that led to the master bedroom. Locking the door, she headed straight for the window.

The infected clawed at the door, tearing it apart and snarling as they entered

Excerpt Myopia:

“What do you mean no?” Sen Aleix yelled three hours later. The giant of a man stormed down the steps from his throne to the center of the Triad hall where Bach and his brothers stood. “I have provided you with five options for an intended, four more than my father gave me and yet you stand here and say no?”

“Sen, I am sure there is a reasonable explanation,” Yordi implored, his voice echoing through the empty hall. “Bach—”

“I do not want to hear you speak again, Prime Yordi.” Pushing Yordi aside, Sen Aleix grabbed Bach by the collar.

“Sen, please,” implored Belem, Bach’s stepmother.

“Shut up, woman. Bach, you pick one today, do you understand me? There shall be no discussion on this matter.” Letting go, he pushed Bach to the ground.

Embarrassed, Bach quickly rose. He was glad that only his brothers and stepmother were in the room to see this.

“Now tell me.” The Sen retook his seat. “Who will it be?”

“Why?” Bach demanded. “I do not have to name my intended now. At least not until I have completed my Great Walk.”

“Be quiet,” Yordi said to him.

“No, the Sen never picked your intended or even Lluc’s. Lluc is older. The Sen has not put him under this pressure. Why is he expecting this from me?” Bach asked Yordi, but he was really speaking to his father.

“What the Sen is asking is not unreasonable,” Yordi remarked. “The five girls are more than suitable. D’cara, if you do not want Talia, I will be happy to trade her with mine.”

“You want to know why I have made settling you down my priority?” the Sen asked in a low voice. “Why I had to debase myself to negotiate your pledge and concern myself with the nocturnal habits of our socialites, when I should be ensuring the prosperity and security of our people?”

Something in his father’s tone made Bach decide he didn’t want to know the answer.

“Because I heard rumors about you and the free Terrans—you were communing with them. I need you to show me and the Pillar they are not true,” his father continued.

Bach couldn’t understand how his father suspected this. He’d been discreet.

“Free Terrans? I Father—what?” Yordi stuttered.

The hall fell silent.

Bach felt all the blood drain out of his face.

“So tell me, are those stories true?” his father demanded.

“Of course, they are not true. Bach could never commit such an abomination,” Yordi barked at his father. “How can you say that about your own son?”

“Tell me, why does he not decide? Alba is his old friend. I do not see why that would be a problem for him and Talia is very beautiful. But he acts like it is true. Do you prefer Terrans?”

“Father!” Yordi shouted angrily at the Sen. “How can you say something so base and disgusting about your own son? I would be within my rights as your Prime to kill you for that.” He advanced to the Sen

“Yordi, stop.” Lluc grabbed his older brother. “Father is just angry.”

“No! No, he has insulted us all.” Yordi broke free, but this time Bach and Lluc restrained him. “There is no anger that justifies what he said about you. Does he think our mother was an animal he bought on the streets, so he can speak to you like that?”

“No, but Bach needs to explain it to me,” Sen Aleix demanded, unmoved.

“He just needs time to decide. You make this sound like it is an easy decision, you of all people know the price of choosing badly,” Lluc explained. “Let him finish his 1,000 days. When he returns, he will have decided.”

“That sounds fair,” Belem said softly.

“Fine.” The word spewed from the Sen’s lips like poison.

This calmed Yordi down and the boys let go of the Prime. Adjusting his suit, he turned to Bach. “Explain to our father, so he understands you are not perverted.”

“Once I have returned from Terra with the answers.” Bach wanted it to be true.

His father didn’t look convinced, but he nodded and dismissed his sons.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Bisi Leyton was born in East London in 1978. She grew up in London, Nigeria and the States, listening to the stories life and love from aunts, cousins and big sisters.She lives in London, but has worked around Europe including France, Germany, Ireland, Belgium and the Czech Republic. She has a fondness for reading graphic novels.

Facebook page:
Current Blog:
Old Blog:
BookTrailer: and

Monday, February 18, 2013

Zodiac Series

Trish Jackson wants to be a best-selling author. Find out how author Trish Jackson went from Africa to Florida.!trish-jackson/cbob

Friday, February 15, 2013

Kick Assitude

Trish Jackson has kick Assitude.!trish-jackson/cbob

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Authorsday: Luke Murphy

1. When did you know you wanted to be a writer?

Actually it happened by accident. Growing up I never thought much about writing, but I was an avid reader. The only time I ever wrote was when my teachers at school made me. I wanted to be an NHL superstar…period.

It was the winter of 2000, my second year of professional hockey, and I was playing in Oklahoma City. After sustaining a season ending eye injury (one of the scariest moments of my life), I found myself with time on his hands.

My girlfriend at the time, who is now my wife, was attending a French college in Montreal. She received an English assignment to write a short story, and asked me for some help.

I loved the experience—creating vivid characters and generating a wire-taut plot. I sat down at my roommate’s computer and began typing. I wrote a little every day, around my intense rehabilitation schedule and before I knew it I had completed my first manuscript.

I didn’t write with the intention of being published. I wrote for the love of writing.

Twelve years later, I still write for pleasure—and I still love it! The fact that I am being published is a bonus.

2. How did you pick the genre you write in?

I was always an avid reader. My first books were the Hardy Boys titles, so they are the reason I love mysteries. As an adult, some of my favorite authors are Harlan Coben, Michael Connelly and Greg Iles, so naturally I write what I love to read – mystery/suspense novels.

3. What drew you to the subject of DEAD MAN`S HAND?

There is not a single moment in time when this idea came to be, but circumstances over the years that led to this story: my hockey injuries, frequent visits to Las Vegas, my love of football, crime books and movies.

Dead Man’s Hand became real from mixing these events, taking advantage of experts in their field, and adding my wild imagination. The internet also provides a wealth of information, available at our fingertips with a click of the mouse.

4. What was the best writing advice someone gave you?

“Show, don`t tell.” I was telling too much. The first draft of DEAD MAN`S HAND was over 120,000 words. After working with editors, the final published version was 80,000 words. I did too much “telling” and not enough “showing”. I needed to “trust” my readers more.

5. Why did you pick the publisher that ultimately published your book?

I had met the owner, Cheryl Tardif, years ago. She had been a struggling writer trying to succeed and had gone through the hardships to success. I had researched and found her on the internet and since I was a “newbie”, I bombarded her with questions. She had a lot of knowledge about the industry, was willing to answer my questions, and just seemed like a really nice, genuine person. So when she started up her own publishing company, I contacted her when I had a manuscript ready.

6. If you have a day job, what is it?

I`m an elementary school teacher by day, but my main job is being a husband and father.

7. Describe your book.

From NFL rising-star prospect to wanted fugitive, Calvin Watters is a sadistic African-American Las Vegas debt-collector framed by a murderer who, like the Vegas Police, finds him to be the perfect fall-guy.

When the brutal slaying of a prominent casino owner is followed by the murder of a well-known bookie, Detective Dale Dayton is thrown into the middle of a highly political case and leads the largest homicide investigation in Vegas in the last twelve years.

Against his superiors and better judgment, Dayton is willing to give Calvin one last chance. To redeem himself, Calvin must prove his innocence by finding the real killer, while avoiding the LVMPD, as well as protect the woman he loves from a professional assassin hired to silence them.

8. What’s your writing schedule?

These days I don`t have one. Right now, I have a full time job (teaching), a part-time tutoring job, two small children and another one on the way. I`m too busy playing ring-around-the-rosie and duck-duck-goose to write.

But when I do write, I find that I am most productive in the morning, and I always have to have a mug of steaming coffee in front of me.

Before I even sit down at a computer, I have hand-written notes of ideas for my book. This could be anything from plot, scenes, setting, characters, etc. I always write in the mornings, this is my most productive time.

Once I sit down, I just write. No editing, no looking back, I just let it flow. Unless I`m certain, no title until after I`m done. As I write, I keep notes by hand on the timeline.

Once my first draft is complete, I go through it twice, once for the creative editing process and the next for flow, repetition, etc. Then I have my former English professor read it over and she gives me her thoughts. I edit it myself again. Then I send it to my agent for her thoughts, then I edit it again myself. Only once my agent and I feel ready do we send it to publishers.

9. What authors do you admire?

Well Chris Redding of course.(Chris here: Good suck up moment Luke. LOL)

10. Who is your favorite character in your book?

Without a doubt, Calvin Watters.

From NFL prospect to wanted fugitive, twenty-seven year old Calvin Watters, a sadistically violent African-American Las Vegas debt-collector, who was once a rising football star, is framed by a murderer who, like the Vegas Police, finds him to be the perfect fall-guy.

He has weaknesses and he has made poor choices. He has regrets, but Watters has the opportunity to redeem himself. Not everyone gets a second chance in life, and he realizes how fortunate he is.

Watters faces racial prejudice with calmness similar to that of Walter Mosley’s character Easy Rawlins. But Watters’ past as an athlete and enforcer will remind other readers of (Jack) Reacher of the Lee Childs series.

Author Bio:

Luke Murphy lives in Shawville, Quebec with his wife, two daughters and pug.

He played six years of professional hockey before retiring in 2006. Since then, he’s held a number of jobs, from sports columnist to radio journalist, before earning his Bachelor of Education degree (Magna Cum Laude).

Murphy`s debut novel, Dead Man`s Hand, was released by Imajin Books on October 20, 2012.

Book Blurb:

From NFL prospect to wanted fugitive, Calvin Watters is a sadistic African-American Las Vegas debt-collector framed by a murderer who, like the Vegas Police, finds him to be the perfect fall-guy.

When the brutal slaying of a prominent casino owner is followed by the murder of a well-known bookie, Detective Dale Dayton is thrown into the middle of the largest homicide investigation in Vegas in twelve years.

Against his superiors and better judgment, Dayton is willing to give Calvin one last chance. To redeem himself, Calvin must prove his innocence by finding the real killer, while avoiding the LVMPD, as well as protect the woman he loves from a professional assassin hired to silence them.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

To Dance in Liradon

The best advice I ever received

The best advice I ever received? Don’t give up. Without perseverance I doubt that any other advice matters because you won’t stick at writing long enough to benefit from it. Most writers develop their craft over time; it takes patience to polish your work, send it out to agents and editors, get feedback, some it negative, and learn from that feedback to make your work better. Writing is not for the faint of heart – rejection can be crushing. I’ve learned that what matters is how you deal with that rejection. There was a point in my writing journey where I considered giving up – not because I didn’t love writing – but because the emotional toll of getting to yes after so many no’s was just too much. In my darkest moments, however, the universe would always find a way to tell me: Don’t give up.

When I began writing I thought talent was everything. If only I could prove I had talent by convincing the right agent, editor, or publisher that my work was worthy of publication I would feel validated as a writer and everything would be O.K. But I quickly learned that the much longed for experience of publication did not transform my life. I still had the same fears, insecurities, and struggles that I’d always had. Even when told I was talented I would focus on the stack of rejection letters that seemed to prove otherwise. What I’ve gradually come to realize is that while I need to keep striving to improve my craft talent isn’t everything. Some of the most beautiful stories ever written have never seen the light of day because the writer gave up. They didn’t posses the necessary perseverance to keep putting their work out there


If you’re anything like me perseverance may not come easily. When I encounter disappointment I’m more likely to feel sad or discouraged than angry. The best way to develop perseverance is to surround yourself with people that inspire you. If you’re a writer you’ve probably already heard of Stephen King’s book On Writing, but just in case you missed it I’m mentioning it here because it’s a book that’s meant a lot to me. I’ve never come across another writer who’s more in love with story in all its forms than Stephen King, and it’s a love that shines through his advice to writers. Whenever I’m feeling low or discouraged I always go back to one of my favorite quotes from On Writing: “Writing isn't about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it's about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well. It's about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Getting happy.” Reading this never fails to remind me why I write in the first place – because I love it – and because I need it. If you feel this way about what you do, no matter what it is, you need to tell yourself don’t give up as often as you need to. Ultimately, the act of creation is its own reward.


Seventeen-year-old Brigid O'Flynn is an outcast. A chance encounter with the Faerie Queen left her tainted in the eyes of the villagers, who blame the Faerie for the village’s missing women and children. Desperate to win the village’s acceptance, Brigid agrees to marry her childhood friend: Serious, hardworking, Connell Mackenna. But when Connell disappears before their wedding, Brigid's hopes are shattered. Blamed for her fiancĂ©’s death, Brigid fears she will suffer the same fate as the other village outcasts, the mysterious Willow Women. Lured into Faerie by their inhuman lovers, and cast out weak and broken, the Willow Women spend their lives searching for the way back into Faerie. When Connell suddenly reappears, Brigid is overjoyed, but everything is not as it seems. Consumed by his desire for beauty and celebration, Connell abandons his responsibilities, and Brigid soon finds herself drawn into a passionate, dangerous world of two.

When Brigid discovers the truth behind Connell's transformation she’s forced to choose between two men and two worlds. Brigid’s struggle leads her into glittering, ruthless Faerie, where she must rescue her true love from a terrible sacrifice or lose him forever.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

ExcerpTuesday: Alisa Anderson

give & receive –an erotic romance novella
book i – give & receive series
alisa Anderson

Tyler Malone: Life as a rock star is anything but boring. Money, power and fame is an addictive drug I crave that gets me off...every time. Millions of adoring fans, willing to do anything just for me to glance their way. What's not to love? All I ever wanted was the one who wouldn't. She's the one person I crave more than the life, more than the money and power. More than anything...

Danny Blake: Some smart-assed reporter nicknamed me the "The Dark Prince," because I shun the limelight. I prefer being behind the scenes, always have. Fame is now a choke hold around my neck, a dark, lonely road that never seems to end. The one light in my life is her. The person who matters above everything else. At one time I thought we could be happy together, but I lost that chance when I married someone else...

Lena Roman: Owner of the infamously notorious nightclub Sadist, head of a massive PR empire; nothing "Queen Midas" touches doesn't turn to gold. Fiercely passionate, loyal and headstrong, she is the woman who loves them both, with a fiery heat that's all consuming. Choosing between her best friend and the one she stupidly allowed at one time to claim her heart wasn't going to be easy...but she had to, right? You can't love two people at once...

Book one of the scorching hot new series, "give & receive.",


Danny started to give Lena a kiss on the cheek and she backed away slightly, instinctively into Ty’s chest. Ty’s veined, sinewy hands surrounded her hips without thinking, almost protective in stance. Possessive even.

The action was duly noted.

He stared at those hands, his hands, for what seemed like an eternity. Then he raised his eyes to lock with Ty’s, as something silent and unspoken passed between them.

He’d be a complete idiot not to see the currents of electricity that existed between her and Ty, even if she didn’t. Or wouldn’t.

Ty knew the same thing about Danny. He had known for years the way Lena felt about Danny, even when she didn’t know it herself.

She never seemed interested in bringing it to the sharing circle, which was odd for two people who talked extensively about everything else.

But she never offered. And he never pressed. Considering his own secrets, even he didn’t have that kind of nerve.

Life went on.

Lena didn’t notice any of this. She was busy watching Danny, who was still close enough to touch. She looked at his cheekbones, shadowed by the dark hair falling forward. She smelled his scent, masculine and uninhibited, speaking of forbidden promise and a hundred different taboo fantasies brought to life in her mind.

Like a gazelle being stalked by a large, hungry cat, her instincts told her she was in danger. She needed to run. Now. From the feelings he made her feel, from the chaotic madness she struggled to maintain when he was near, from the way her heart almost exploded in her chest, whenever she so much as tasted his name on her tongue.

Only then did she realize she was trapped between both men and it was useless to even try and get away. Only then did she comprehend where Ty’s hands were and had been for some time. Only then was she aware of him rubbing her thigh carelessly and she felt a warm flush heat her face.

Danny wanted to rip his hands off of her, but knew it shouldn’t make one crap load of difference to him what they did or didn’t do.

After all…he was a happily married man.

It was just that every so often…the lie he lived every day of his life became almost impossible to stomach.

Available now!


(transposed to the third person to appear more mature *grins cheerfully*)

well...alisa did stuff and is still doing stuff. only now she has two boys crazy enuff to want her as their mommy. hey, at least she tried to warn them, so her job is done. she doesn’t like to capitalize, partially because she likes how lower case letters look visually, but mostly out of laziness. please don't judge. it could be you. and she would say, hey. you're alright, buddy. you're ok in my book. now c'mere for a hug. the hug might be pushing it. air kiss? you are strangers, after all, with only a mutual love of poor grammar.

she lives for a world full of controllable anatomically correct, android men programmed to meet her specific feminine needs (wink, wink, nudge, nudge with a big waggle of the eyebrows). who look like the rock. and ian somerhalder. and idris elba. and that's it she promises. variety. gotta have variety, right? but alas...apparently that exists only in johanna lindsey's genius mind. so until then, she enjoys her incredibly warped sense of humor. she reads tons of erotica and romantic, drippy goo that makes her heart go pitter patter. then she thought, hey. what, she said to herself. (softly, of course, so no one finds out she is indeed, 2 nuts short of a fruitcake) maybe you should write this stuff too. maybe someone will like it and maybe buy it. so she said, huh, you think? then she said, well...yeah, i wouldn't have suggested it...(inserts sarcastic tone) and then she was like lose the attitude, ok? then she was all, would you just shut up and write, already? sheesh! and she did. :)

alisa anderson

Monday, February 11, 2013

Trish Jackson Interview

Trish Jackson went to boarding schools because she grew up in Africa too remote from regular school. Find out more. Find out how author Trish Jackson went from Africa to Florida.!trish-jackson/cbob

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

It's Gametime Somewhere

It's Game Time Somewhere Book Summary:

Tim Forbes was like many Americans: painfully unsatisfied in his corporate job but making too much money to walk away. But then, one momentous day, he and his wife struck the Deal, leading to a career in the one field he loved more than anything: sports.

Years later, having carved out his place in the sports business, he was surprised when a friend asked, "Do you still love sports?"...And stunned when he didn't know how to reply. Of course he still loved sports! Didn't he? Was it possible that walking away from a perk-filled Corporate American life had all been for nothing?

His year-long quest to find that answer started with a single game. But what he discovered there soon led to an unlikely coast-to-coast “sports walkabout” involving 100 more games and 50 different sports—from major-market events to the smallest of the small. Poignant, irreverent, and ultimately inspiring, It’s Game Time Somewhere chronicles one man’s search for the love of the game.


Alternately blessed and cursed by the notion that everyone should do what they love for a living, Tim Forbes creates and writes about the games that people play.

Tim grew up in the farmlands of northern Connecticut, and went on to earn a bachelor’s degree from Ithaca College—where he played Division III basketball in front of literally tens of people. He received an MBA from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, and an Associate’s Degree at the Professional Golfers Career College in Temecula, CA. Yes, in that order.

After 15 years spent meandering about in Corporate America, Tim went on to work for three professional golf tours: the Symetra Futures Tour, the LPGA Tour, and the PGA Tour. He also served as general manager for golf clubs in Nashville, Tennessee and Orlando, Florida. In 2009, he founded Outside the Mode, a sports marketing and production company based in his adopted home of Los Angeles.

Tim lives in Redondo Beach, California with a perennially underachieving fish named Halo, a cat, and a wife he fondly calls Bird.

Format/Price: $15.95 paperback
Pages: 304
ISBN: 9781938008122
Publisher: Bascom Hill
Release: February 12, 2013

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Cards on the table – yours truly is not quite right.

How else could you explain the fact that I spent a year of my life attending and writing about 100 uniquely different sporting events involving 50 separate sports? But that’s what I did, and literally thousands of readers helped me keep score. And when it was done, we all knew more about sports in America than it was thought to be humanly possible. Or at least I did, anyway.

“But why?” you ask. Well here’s my story and I’m sticking to it…

As Bill Cosby once said, I started out as a child. A child inexorably drawn to sports – the organized kind and especially the disorganized kind favored by my circle of friends. Consequently I grew up chasing a ball. It didn’t matter what size or shape, I chased them all. I was fortunate enough to have come of age in a time when kids themselves scheduled their own games and “officiated” them via the kid’s code of sports ethics – an arcane collection of arguments, declarations, and insults that inevitably led to the Do Over. Or somebody taking their ball and going home.

On those occasions when a quorum wasn’t available for even the most streamlined of games, I played them solo. Some might call it “practicing”, but I knew it as “having fun”. And as is the case with many things one repeats endlessly, I managed to develop some level of skill. So it came to be that I went to college on a basketball scholarship.

Annoyingly enough, they don’t let you just major in Basketball – well, not in 1977 anyway, and not in any conference that, like mine, did not start with the word “Big”. So I chose to pursue a degree in Psychology. Don’t ask me why. And when my undergraduate days ended, I decided to obtain an MBA, because, well…because.

The ironic thing was that neither Psychology nor Business Administration would have even been in the race had Sports Management been an academic option. Ubiquitous now, at the time that I entered college there was no such degree program. And so, a career match made in heaven went by the boards…for the time being, anyway.

In my mid-30’s, having acquired over a decade of experience in Corporate America, I became vaguely aware of the fact that people were getting paid to work in sports! Having thus discovered the existence of what was rightfully MY chosen field of work, I spent the next several years alternating between a state of agitation over having been born a decade too early, and thoughtful rumination on how I could still pull off a second half rally and transition to my natural calling.

At the age of 40, the confluence of a certain set of circumstances, not the least of which is the most understanding wife in the cosmos, enabled me to take the plunge. I enrolled in an accredited four semester program that rewarded me upon completion with an Associate’s Degree in Professional Golf Management. I was on my way – a little late out of the gate, but with a full head of steam and ready to use my transferrable skills to claw my way to the top of the sports business.

Nearly a decade later, having come to know quite well the good, the bad and the ugly about pursuing a second career within the sports industry, I was innocently confronted one day with the following question: ”After working in the industry for ten years, do you still love sports?”

Hmmmm…great question. One I honestly didn’t have an answer for. As you can imagine though, it became critically important for me to find one. And thus began germinating the idea of a “sports walkabout” – an effort to reconnect with my ball-chasing, sports-loving roots.

I went to a game. And then another. And another. Big games, little games. Tournaments, matches, meets and bouts. Men’s games, women’s games. Professional. Amateur. High School. College. Games that I was intimately familiar with. Games that I didn’t have the faintest idea as to their rules.

To those that virtually accompanied me I offered to share everything that I found – both positive and…not so positive. I promised to keep it light-hearted, and they in turn agreed to laugh, learn and share the link with others. This blog, this portrait of Americans at play, became a love letter to sports, warts and all. My friends at Google Analytics tell me that it has been read by thousands of people all over the world.

I hope it brings a smile of pleasure and recognition to your face as well. Because it’s always game time somewhere.

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