Laughs and Fun: A Kindle Bargain

Today I'm featuring a great Kindle book at a bargain price of only $.99.

http://tinyurl.com/29zjbjh

The Secret Diary of Alice in Wonderland, Age 42 and Three Quarters

A murder by beheading sends Alice Harte, reluctant real estate broker for thugs, running into the arms of Nigel Channing, a charming British con man.

This urban fantasy is set in Miami and London. Fans of Stephanie Plum will cheer for Alice as she watches her back in attempting to keep her head, while being stalked by Nigel's daft ex-wife and inept, but dangerous mobsters. Alice's world is filled with memorable characters strangely reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland. She's guided through her dangerous adventure by her own Cheshire Cat.

Nigel, a chubby John Cleese with serious dress-code problems, whisks Alice to England. Alice sees him as her White Rabbit rescuer. The plot trips along at a cracking pace with Alice flinging zingers like a drive-by shooter.

After Alice discovers a gangster's freshly beheaded body in his Miami mansion, she launches a desperate self-defense in a kangaroo court. The main witness against her is Algy Green, a bumbling cockney swindler who super-glues his bat wing ears to his head and commits perjury for theme park tickets. But in the middle of the trial a small piece of evidence opens her eyes.

My Review: Heroine Alice Harte is a neurotic mess. She's germaphobic and hooked on Xanax. But who can blame her for her addiction? After a messy divorce, she ends up working for a psychopath who sues people to death when he can't get away with killing them. Alice is also an anglophile and when she meets Nigel online, he exactly fulfills her fantasy of a having a John Cleese type for a lover. Anxious to get away from her troubles at home, she flies to England to meet Nigel. She's in such a muddle from her pills and her troubles and her neuroses, that Nigel can do no wrong in her eyes. She ignores all the warning signs and falls for Nigel's explanations, no matter how outlandish they are. And they are outlandish. When Alice discovers that Nigel has a wife, she believes his story that he's actually divorced, even when the ex turns up to stalk Alice. 

Meanwhile, back at home the conflict with her boss heats up. Alice enlists the help of a friend to get herself out of the mess without ending up dead. They go on to solve the mystery of her boss's big scheme. Throughout the book there are some hysterical scenes mixed in with the seemingly normal. Alice's total faith in Nigel lead her to calmly accept situations that would have sent other women screaming for the door--fish are thrown in Nigel's face by people he claims are strangers, their hotel reservations are lost" so they drive around Paris half the night until they end up in a seedy place, etc. Alice's blind faith and cluelessness add to the hilarity. 

The characters and situations were wacky. The story drew me in from page one and didn't let go. Best of all, was author Barbara Silkstone's subtle wit. I recommend this book.

Who Says Summer Camp Has to Be Boring?

           

Night Camp is my children's book for middle grade readers. It's available in print and in ebook. Reader response has been terrific and the book has 14 great reviews so far.

About the book:  Who says summer camp has to be boring? A spooky graveyard. A creepy basement. A pair of coffins. Thirteen-year-old Shane Andrews hates summer camp. When his parents allow him to choose, Shane decides to pick the worst camp he can find. Night Camp must be terrible. For one thing, activities take place at night and campers sleep during the day. That can’t be good, Shane reasons. His parents will realize Night Camp is even worse than they thought and they’ll come back to get him. Then Shane’s plans for summer freedom fall apart. His cousin Brad, a boy with a huge collection of tabloid magazines, convinces Shane that two of the camp counselors are vampires. Shane enlists the help of Brad and a girl camper named Nicole. The three set out to save themselves and the other campers. Then Shane uncovers the secret of Night Camp… 

A short excerpt from Chapter One where Shane and his parents are sorting through stacks of brochures to choose a camp.

            "Where do I put this one? It doesn't fit in any of the other stacks. What's Night Camp anyway?"

            "Let me see it."

            I took the brochure from my mother and studied the cover. If I stared at the red letters on the front long enough with my eyes sort of scrunched closed the letters seemed to run toward the bottom of the page almost as though they were dripping.

            I shook my head and blinked a few times to clear my vision. I opened the brochure. The paper on the inside was white, but the words were printed in the same blood red color as the cover. At the top of one page a picture showed a bat in flight as it swooped after a mouse racing for its life through a clearing.

            "Something different," I read out loud. "Let your child experience the richness and beauty of our planet at night. Camp activities include canoe rides by moonlight, exploring the environment at midnight, studying the night animals and insects, and stargazing, among others. Buy peace of mind. Know that your loved one isn't outside getting charbroiled in the noonday sun. We guarantee no sunburns!"

            I paused. I was wrong about all camps being alike. I read back over the part about buying peace of mind. A shiver rocketed up my spine. It sounded like an ad for a funeral home. Funeral directors were always calling people loved ones. I opened my hand and dropped the folder onto the table as though it had burned me.

We Interrupt This Date for Sample Sunday

Short Excerpt from a Random Chapter for Sample Sunday

Skills or no skills, I couldn’t go into business with her. T. Chandler was a successful businessman, but he hadn’t exactly left me rolling in riches when we split. I discovered, too late, that he’d found a way to legally transfer most of his assets out of the country. I was left to cling to the house I’d gotten in the settlement—not yet paid for—and a small savings account, along with an alimony check that didn’t cover expenses. I’d had to refinance the house and take the first job I’d been that came along--an office position in a loan company slash pawnshop.

“To be honest, you probably think T. Chandler Caraway, the cheating weasel, left me pretty well taken care of, but that didn’t happen. I don’t have a dime to invest. Thanks for thinking of me, though,” I finished lamely.

Veronica drummed her fingers on the table. The last word I uttered barely had time to clear my lips before she said, “I didn’t, for one second, think that bastard would have given you more than he absolutely had to. You should have shoved him out in front of a bus and collected his life insurance while you were still married.”

A pink-sneakered woman at the next table choked on her soup of the day. Veronica shot her a mind-your-own-business look.

“Veronica, there was no husband murdering as you well know. So the fact remains, I have no money and it isn’t fair to ask you to take all the risk.” I held out my hands, showing empty palms.

“I’m willing to put up the money and you’ll supply the time and energy. Case closed.”

She’d made her plan sound as foolproof at the blueprints to a doghouse. But then, I still didn’t know what she had in mind. I pictured a trendy antique shop on King Street or Broad, not that I knew anything about antiques. Maybe a gift shop or a boutique. Not that I was an expert on gifts or fashion, either. Oh, God, what could I do? Veronica was kind, but I couldn’t let her do this. I’d been told I was a terrific mother, but unless Veronica planned to open up a daycare, that wasn’t exactly a plus in a business venture. Besides being the mother of one spoiled son in college didn’t qualify me for working in childcare, either.

I shook my head. “I can’t. But I have to know--this business would be?”

“Ghost tours.” She pasted on an “everything’s settled” expression and folded her hands in front of her like a tiny tent. 

We Interrupt This Date is on Red Adept's Top Indie Books of 2010 List!  http://redadeptreviews.com/

We Interrupt This Date Makes Red Adept's Top Indie of 2010 List

I'm pleased and honored to announce that We Interrupt This Date was the number 3 romance of 2010 in Red Adept's annual indie awards. I'm doing the happy dance this morning. My dogs are hiding behind the couch. My husband and the Boy are pretending I'm ready for Dancing with the Stars. And me--I'm thrilled.

Happy New Year everyone!

Leigh McRae Has Body-Discovering Experience

Leigh McRae Has Body-Discovering Experience

In Talented Horsewoman, the first book of my horse mystery series, main character Leigh McRae discovers a body. She also ends up solving a murder. Along the way she helps her cousin Sammi, who is dating a burglar, and she manages to get out from under the control of her overbearing ex-husband.

Now Leigh's friend Candy, a fellow horsewoman, finds herself accused of murder. Who else would she turn to for help except Leigh? After all, everyone in small town Del Canto knows Leigh has body-discovering experience. Never mind that Leigh is busy finding out who's poisoning dogs in Sammi's neighborhood and she's trying to renovate her home without going broke. Or that her ex-husband Kenneth and former ranchhand Doug Reilly have become roommates in Leigh's guest house.

There's a murder to solve. And her friend won't take no for an answer.

Coming soon, the second in the Leigh McRae horse mystery series: The Witness Wore Palomino.

Jobless Recovery Sample Sunday

Modified Cover

I've heard from some of my readers that based on the title they thought Jobless Recovery was non fiction. I've now modified the cover to clear up any confusion. Note the new blurb on the front and two new blurbs on the back. You can't read it in the posted image, but you can see how I've moved my name up and put the blurb at the bottom. The front cover blurb reads: JOBLESS RECOVERY - A THRILLING REVISIT OF THE GRAPES OF WRATH -- Barbara Silkstone, author of The Secret Diary of Alice in Wonderland

Many thanks to author Barbara Silkstone for providing the front cover blurb. Jobless Recovery is still only $.99, but the sale ends on Dec. 31st. 

Short Excerpt from a Random Chapter

A red and white sign over the door of a two-story brick building caught his eye. Avalon Plasma Center and Lab.

A thought drifted through his head. He didn’t like the sight of his own blood--who did? But a person needed to earn money to survive--and to meet his obligations--and he’d heard that you could get as much as two hundred dollars a month for plasma.

He veered right and marched up the brick steps to the building, where a couple of pots of overgrown ferns flanked the outer door. He went inside. The black and white floor tiles gleamed under at least ten coats of wax, and the scent of orange room deodorizer almost masked the disinfectant smell that stung his nostrils.

Chairs were lined up in an L shape around two walls of the room and every chair was occupied. Dave stepped up to the desk and got the attention of the receptionist, a twentyish redhead reading a tabloid. She finally frowned up at Dave and lowered her magazine to the desk.

He leaned on the counter and beamed her a winning smile. “Excuse me. I’d like to sell plasma.” Not quite the truth. He didn’t like to sell plasma, he liked to earn money.

Her expression stayed fixed in a frown. “Sorry. We already have people totally crawling out of the woodwork. You just would not believe. I mean, there’s only so much plasma we can process.” She pointed to a stack of forms on her desk. “You can add your name to our waiting list and if we get an opening, we’ll call you.”

“You mean like in case one of your present donors gets a real job or dies?”

“Whatever.”

He rolled his eyes. Sad day when you couldn’t even get a job letting people stick needles in your arm to take out your blood. He turned down her offer to sign up for the waiting list. He was tired of waiting lists and he was sure he wasn’t the only one. Waiting lists for government services, for training, to put in job applications, and now to sell plasma. Maybe someone should contact the spin doctors in Washington, have them work on the problem. No time at all and people would learn to say, “Would you like to sign up for our opportunity success module, Mr. Griffin? It used to be known as the waiting list, but that sounds so negative.

I hope you like the short excerpt and I invite you to leave a comment. I don't like to post entire chapters. There are so many good books to sample today, that I prefer to keep my excerpts short so samplers can finish and move on to the next.

The Adventures of Green Camo

I've come to realize I have a lot of influence on the Boy. For example, I recently bought him a humidifier because he has a rotten cold and can hardly breathe at night with the heater running so much. Next morning I asked him how he slept and he said, "Much better and I really like Gordon."

Me: "Gordon? Who's Gordon?"

Him: "My new humidifier."

He looked at me like I was completely clueless not to have known he named it.

I only wish my influence over this kid extended to him getting organized and remembering the basics, such as where he put his jacket and his toothbrush, and why he should listen to me when I tell him not to leave his shoes in the road. And that it's important for him to treat his lunchbox with a little respect, since that is the source of his lunch. 

His lunchbox is green with a camouflage pattern. Hmmm. Maybe that's why he can't find it. It's a hand me down from the Boy's cousin. His cousin never cared much for it, but the Boy LOVES that lunchbox, probably because the alternative is a small, flat, pinkish-red girlie looking one I keep around for backup during those times when Green Camo is AWOL.

Since the beginning of school, the Boy has left Green Camo on the bus twice on the way home, and both times the bus driver saved the Camo and gave it back to him in the morning. Another time the Boy went to his aunt's house after school and forgot it there, so he didn't have it for a few days. Last month he was walking to the house from the bus stop and flinging Green Camo high in the air and catching it--most of the time. Just as he reached the house, an errant throw landed Green Camo on the roof--and we have a two story house. The poor lunchbox slid toward the edge and hung up in the gutter. 

Well, I am not about to climb twenty feet up a ladder on any day of the year, so there Green Camo stayed. Neighbors kept stopping me and pointing it out.

"Did you know there's a lunchbox on your roof?" As if the thing had dropped from a low flying plane or possibly a UFO.

A lunchbox on my roof? Really? I simply must get new eyeglasses.

Several of them suggested that maybe a high wind would dislodge the lunchbox from the gutter.

It might. Any idea how I can conjure up a hurricane? No? Well, since I don't have that kind of control over nature, I'm not going to stand out front holding a catcher's mitt waiting for a wind to come along and do its job.

Another neighbor suggested a fishing pole with a big hook. He offered to loan me one. I declined. I could envision myself hooking the gutter and pulling it down on top of my head.

The Boy excitedly volunteered to go up the ladder, and of course I said no. Any kid who could can't even throw a lunchbox straight is not coordinated enough to climb twenty feet up a ladder without mishap.

After ten days, my husband came home from a job out of state. He went up the ladder and snared Green Camo. 

I figured the Boy had finally learned his lesson. I figured wrong. 

About two weeks ago he left the Green Camo on the bus on the way to school, so of course his lunch was in it. One of the middle schools uses that same bus. In the afternoon, the Boy didn't ride the bus, since I picked him after school. Next day the bus driver, a sub, didn't have the Green Camo and hadn't seen it. The school Lost and Found was another dead end.

The Boy resigned himself to carrying the Girlie Red for the rest of the year because I told him I was not buying another lunchbox for a careless boy. A week later his aunt called and said that her son had been called into the office at his middle school because they had his lunchbox. The cousin's name was written on the outside of Green Camo from the year before. Naturally his cousin said, "It's not mine. There must be another kid in the school with the same name as me." I had to call and ask them to handle the care and well-being of Green Camo for a day or so until I could bring him home.

I went a few days later in the bitter cold with the wind whipping around and the temp well below freezing. I almost got hypothermia on the way in from the outer reaches of the parking lot. I mean it. It was like the tundra and I was not happy. 

Green Camo was empty when I looked inside. I don't know if some hungry middle schooler ate the Boy's lunch or if the Lost and Found lady threw it out. I suppose I'll have to add this question to my list of life's mysteries.

The Boy was ecstatic to see that his lunchbox had returned home. But where will poor Green Camo end up next?