Wednesday, August 28, 2013

31 Days To Millionaire Marketing Miracles by Tracy Repchuk Book Bash & Giveaway

Genre: Self-Help, Business
Publisher: Wiley Publishing
Release Date: August 19, 2013

Book Description:

A marketing blueprint for attracting more leads, getting more clients and making more sales

31 Days to Millionaire Marketing Miracles is a breakthrough blueprint outlining the proven steps for successfully attracting more leads, getting more clients, and making more sales. Author Tracy Repchuk shows entrepreneurs, business owners, and opportunity-seekers what to do, when to do it, and the order in which it needs to be done to build an online marketing presence that is stable, predictable, and expandable. Whether you want to dominate your market globally or locally, this thirty-one-day guide allows you to take your product, service, or message, and turn it into a moneymaking machine.

  • Best Selling Author Tracy Repchuk is recognized as the Top Woman Speaker in the World for Internet Marketing and an entrepreneur in the IT and internet industry since 1985
  • Serves as a reference guide to newbies and entrepreneurs wanting to turn their passion into profits and accelerate business results
31 Days to Millionaire Marketing Miracles guides you along a proven path to profits and shows you an Internet marketing formula that will attract more leads, get more clients, and make more sales.


"There are hundreds of blog services and some reside within specific niche areas, which may be better suited to your product. Simply go to Yahoo! or Google, and type “your niche” blogs and you’ll have plenty of options to choose from.
When branding your identity, blogs can be a big part of the success for a full-scope campaign. As you may know when you are putting together a campaign for a product launch or company launch, there are a number of pieces for which you should start to lay the foundation. These originate from the four types of websites and their purpose."

Praise for 31 Days to Millionaire Marketing Miracles:

"A step by step process that does not leave me scratching my head!" ~Wayne R. Hagerty, Amazon Reviewer

"This book has been a HUGE help in getting my business started and expanding it! Tracy is very up front and in your face. It is very refreshing and relieving especially after trying a TON of different programs and having nothing work." ~ Desiree P., Amazon Reviewer

"This is not just another internet marketing book! Tracy Repchuk's 31 Days to Millionaire Marketing Miracles is about how to create an online presence that is sustainable and built on practical business principles so you can dominate the internet, get your message out there, and attract the customers you need. Excellent!" ~ Sharon McRill, Amazon Reviewer

About The Author:

Tracy Repchuk is an internet marketing and social media strategist and speaker. She is a best selling author, and has been an entrepreneur since 1985 and has helped thousands of clients get their message out around the world. Tracy is an internationally acclaimed speaker and motivator in over 35 countries. She keeps audiences engaged with her ability to break down complex concepts and turn them into formula based success.

Tracy started her first software business at the age of 19 which still supports Fortune 100 companies. She has been nominated for awards such as Entrepreneur of the Year, Chamber of Commerce Business Woman of the Year, Coach of the Year and Stevie Awards for Business Mentor of the Year, received Provincial Volunteer and software development awards and has appeared in the International Who's Who in 7 categories.

She graduated in Business Computer Systems, and went on to receive a Certified Management Accountants designation. In 2007 Tracy won "New Internet Marketing Success of the Year" from the World Internet Summit and catapulted into success with her best selling book, speaking engagements, and extensive internet experience in web development, software integration and marketing since 1996.
Tracy specializes in online marketing campaigns that build a cohesive corporate or personal brand using an integrated web strategy that helps you attract more leads, get more clients and make more money. Her solutions are done with marketing and results in mind. In addition she has appeared on TV: ABC7, NBC, King5, 7 For Your Money, 4 On Your Side, WBZ, Report on Business Television, CTV news, USA Today, Radio, magazine, newspaper and her work has appeared in over 50 publications including 2 motivational movies.

Connect With Tracy Online:

Monday, August 19, 2013

The Phoenix Blade by Andrew Hess - Book Tour, Guest Post & Giveaway

The Phoenix Blade
by Andrew Hess

Have you ever created an amazing plot, but didn’t know how to work from conception to story? It’s something many believe to be easy to do, but quickly find out it is easier said than done. Writing your novel starts with the plot and theme. The plot is a few sentences describing what the story is about. Theme is the foundational concept in which the core of your story boils down to one or two specific words. But once you have these two down, how do you move forward with your story?

Your first step after you have your plot, theme, and characters would be to outline your story. You’ll find many successful writers plan out their story beforehand. Likewise, there are many that don’t and can be just as successful. I encourage the outline as a way for the writer to see where their story will go. This will help minimalize a relentless flow of writing that will cause your story to go on too long.
Once the outline is complete, it’s time to sit down and write your scenes or chapters. Each one should be designed to keep the readers’ attention, move the general story, and further the character development. With your outline in hand, you should be able to accurately map out your characters as they transition from living their normal average life and become the person that faces the challenges and conflicts of your story.

Each chapter or scene should include a well-developed description of the scene or actions. For example; don’t write it was a hot day. Instead, write how the hot sun feels; have the character stare into the cloudless sky; the sun beams off the water’s edge; the possibilities are endless. If you do this right, your reader can visualize the scene instead of just reading through.

Another major factor in each chapter is dialogue. This is key to the story feeling like a reality to your readers. Dialogue should help move the story along and used to create tension, conflict, romance, etc. You want readers to visualize your story, so I would not recommend using proper English language for people in New York, Detroit, Chicago areas. Likewise, you wouldn’t want your characters talking like they live in a heavy populated city with a thick accents and their own lingo when you’re writing about a small country side town that is very polite and proper. Tailor your dialogue to the right setting for your story.

By following these basic rules for writing your chapters or scenes, you should have a good foundation for your story. They will help you build on your idea and evolve your plot and theme from conception to full story.

About The Author:

Andrew Hess (1983-present) was born in Lindenhurst, NY where he spent most of his life. After living in the New Paltz/Poughkeepsie, NY area for five years (2003-2008) he returned home to Long Island to pursue his dream of writing. Andrew published his first book, The Chamber of Souls (2011), where he blended free verse poetry and short story into one book.

Genre: Action/Drama
Publisher: CreateSpace
Release Date: April 24, 2013

Book Description:

Follow the journey of Andrew Lancaster and his friends as they are thrown in the middle of the biggest government conspiracy to hit the United States. Andrew is contacted by a man known only as the Benefactor.; claiming to be a government official that has been monitoring Lancaster and his friends. He is told they have enough evidence to arrest them for treason, but would like to hire them instead for a top secret government project. As a bonus the Benefactor says he will reveal something Lancaster has wanted to know for the last six years. Who killed his mother.


“I keep thinking how so much has changed in the last ten years.” “Here we go again.” “I mean it. When we were kids everything was different. The world was more peaceful. Everyone got along and helped each other. But now everyone’s fueled by greed, corruption, and they get some sick pleasure from hurting others.” “I know what you mean, but there’s not much we can do about it. Too many people think they have to do whatever’s necessary to get ahead in life.” “I still wish we could change it.” “Yeah, it’d be great to get rid of all those people.” Mike reached for the remote to turn the movie back on. “Too bad it’ll never happen.” I knew he was right. Our idea was ludicrous. But at that moment, my cell started ringing. “Talk to me,” I answered. “Yes hi, I’m looking for Mr. Andrew Lancaster,” a stern confident voice said. “Who’s calling?” “Someone who has the power to change your future.” “If this is some telemarketer, you can hang up now. I’m not interested. “I assure you this isn’t a sales pitch and I’m not a telemarketer.” “Then what do you want?” “It’s come to my attention that you and a few friends have been talking about eliminating certain types of people.” “What are you talking about?” “Don’t play dumb Mr. Lancaster. You and your friends have been monitored for some time now. We know everything.” “Who are you?” “I’m someone from the government that would like to give you an ultimatum. We have e-mails and recorded conversations between you and your friends talking about killing people that are as you said evil.” “Look, Mr. we were only joking around.” Mike heard the panic in my voice. My face turned pale white. “What’s going on,” he whispered. I placed the call on speaker and placed a finger to my lips. “Be that as it may. You’ve been under our watchful eye for several months. Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.” “And that would be?” “The hard way is we send our agents to your house and arrest you for conspiracy and possible treason.” “Are you fucking serious,” Mike shouted. I quickly covered his mouth with my hand. “Who is that? Who’s with you?” I didn’t reply. I could hear him rifling through papers. “Ah yes, that is most likely Mr. Santangelo.” “How does he know my…” “What’s the easy way,” I asked. The man cleared his throat. “Simple, we hire you to go through with it.” I laughed it off immediately. “Yeah right, and next you’re going to tell me that I’m the next in line to be King of England.” “I don’t know about that, but I’m very serious. We have a list of targets and evidence that proves their illegal activities. We would like to give you the chance to make the world a better place.” “If you have evidence against them, why not put them in jail where they belong?” “Because they have ways of getting around our judicial system. We all know it’s fallible.” “But why me?” “Who better to lead a team than someone who has never received justice for his own mother’s death?” “But it was ruled an accident.” “That’s what you were led to believe. I have proof she was murdered and know who’s responsible.”

Monday, August 12, 2013

Escape: A New Life by David Antocci (Promotional Tour)

Escape: A New Life
by David J. Antocci

About The Author:

David J Antocci is a noted wordsmith, blogger and author. His work can be read regularly on the Worcester Telegram and Gazette website where he has spent many years writing about the trials and tribulations of being a real life Mr. Mom.  While his first love is music, he has put down the guitar in recent years in order to pour his passion into writing… and the gentle tap of the keys on his laptop are much less disruptive late at night when the children are sleeping. The ESCAPE books are his first published foray into fiction. He lives in New England with his beautiful wife and children.

Book Genre: Thriller, Action/Adventure
Publisher: Independently Published by David J Antocci
Release Date: June 30th 2013

Book Synopsis:

After saving a drowning man during a savage storm, Abby wakes up in a tropical paradise in a fight for her life. She has no idea how she got there, and notices changes in herself that she cannot explain. Haunted by unsettling dreams of her past, she sets out to escape, joined by Eric, who finds himself in the same quandary. Standing in their way is a madman, and his band of willing followers, with a mind set on murdering their unwelcome visitors. An eccentric hermit who has been living there for years offers them refuge, but they must deny his generosity. Escape is their only option.  Yet, they discover this deceptive paradise is harder to leave than they had ever imagined.  One mystery leads to another, until their escape throws them into even greater danger as Abby’s frightening past finally catches up with her.  Her escape is only the beginning.

HER EYES FLASHED open with a start as she gasped for air. Heart pounding, she reached up and felt her moist face. Her eyes were wide open, yet she saw nothing. Blackness surrounded her. She heard what sounded like white noise all around her. Reaching down to feel her body, she found that her skin was cool and wet. A blinding white light streaked across the black sky above, forcing her eyes closed for a moment. Rain. She realized that she was hearing rain beat down all around her.
She sat up, with some effort, her muscles felt very sore. She felt her stomach and thought that it seemed smaller than it should be. Odd. With another flash of lightning, she saw waves pounding the beachhead in front of her. Consumed by confusion, she struggled to remember where she was. How did I get here? Through the haze, she knew one thing. She was soaking wet and feeling a chill. She needed a place to dry out.
Behind her she saw only trees and darkness. Ahead, she saw the blackness of water as far as her eyes could focus. To her left, she spotted a cliff jutting out of the water and up into the emptiness of the sky. There were a number of trees pushed up against what looked like an overhang off the side of the cliff. That’s probably the driest spot around here, she thought. Pushing her wet hair out of her eyes and running her fingers through it, she couldn’t help but think that it seemed a little longer than it should. She assumed that was because it was wet. Where the hell am I? Her thoughts were fuzzy and she could not put the details together, as hard as she tried. She wrapped her hair around itself in a quick ponytail to keep it out of the way.
Still sitting on the sand and looking around, she wondered if there was anyone else out here. “Hello?” The crash of the waves and sounds of the storm drowned out her voice, even to herself. “HELLO!” Listening, she heard nothing. Wait, was that someone calling? Looking left and right as the lightning continued to flash, she saw no one—only empty beach for about a hundred meters in each direction. The sand pushed up against the cliffs on the left, and the tree line came out to meet the water on the right.
She put her left hand on the wet sand and her right hand on her thigh to brace herself to stand. Her right hand felt something hard and leathery. Her fingers traced the object. If she did not know better she would say it was a knife. Perplexed, she wondered, why would I have a knife strapped to my thigh?

She managed to stand, though confusion still reigned over her senses. The rain and waves both let up for a few seconds. There it was. Someone was definitely shouting. It was coming over the water.

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Sapphire by Bryan Alaspa - Book Tour & Giveaway (Young Adult Paranormal Romance)

Bryan W. Alaspa is a freelance writer and professional author of both fiction and non-fiction. Having lived in Chicago almost his entire life, he spent a few years living in St. Louis. Bryan's writing first began when he sat down and wrote a three -page story on his mom’s electric typewriter in the third grade. It’s been all up-hill since then!
With over 20 books in both fiction and non-fiction genres available, you can find most of them at with few books just for your Kindle and iPad users. Be sure to check them out.
A blogger for some time, you can learn about upcoming books as well as various author events Bryan is involved in.

Genre: Young Adult, Mystery, Thriller, Suspense, Romance, Paranormal
Publisher: SalGad Publishing
Release date: June 2, 2013

Book Description:

Jimmy Parker is a typical high school student. Unpopular with the girls and picked on by the boys, he’s just trying to survive long enough to escape the tiny Pennsylvanian town of Knorr. With Jimmy and his friend, George, heading to the school dance, they expect nothing but the usual ritual humiliation from their peers. But when a girl in a brilliant blue dress enters their lives at the side of a lonely old bridge…everything changes.

Her name is Sapphire, and she is the most alluring girl that Jimmy has ever met. Yet, there is something strange about her; something different. Why has he never seen her at school? Why does she only want to meet up near the bridge? And why does everybody keep warning Jimmy to stay away from her?

Before long, Jimmy is plunged into a decades-old mystery. The town of Knorr has many secrets; some held by powerful men. Men that would do anything to keep them from getting out. Something dark happened one night in Knorr, and now Jimmy is a part of it whether he likes it or not.

And Sapphire holds the key to understanding it all.

Jimmy discovers that his bond with the mysterious girl creates a unique power between them. A power that bridges time, space, and even dimensions. It is the one thing that could save them both.

Because sometimes the most powerful force on Earth is love.

Praise for Sapphire:

A superb, well written story with a 50 year timeline. Initially a ghost story that turns into a mystery that becomes adventure and investigation turns again into a whodunit.” ~Robert Drake, Amazon Reviewer

I was drawn to this book for the cover and it had been recommended to me by friend who knows my love of Western PA. I thought this book really captured the rural feel of a teenager's life and just as I was feeling a little complacent about it, Jimmy and George meet up with Sapphire on the river bank and the story really takes off.” ~Mary H., Amazon Reviewer

A story of mystery and murder. A chilling, ghostly tale. An account of the pains and joys of youth, a romance, a love story like no other.” ~Daniel Cheely, Amazon Reviewer


Jimmy stood in front of the full-length mirror and did not like what he saw. The sleeves were too short. The white cuffs of his shirt stuck out from the sleeves of his jacket. Any dork could see that. Unfortunately, most of the student body at Knorr High School already thought of him as a dork. The last thing he wanted was feeling that way during his senior prom. However, here he was, looking at an image that could only be described as “dork.”
No one will notice,” said his mother from behind him. She was hovering over his shoulder like a specter. She was smiling and proud. “You can take it off once you get there, and no one will even be paying any attention. Everyone will be too busy having a good time to care what you’re wearing.”
Jimmy sighed and tugged uselessly at the jacket’s sleeve. “Mom, you just have no clue.”
She came forward and hugged him. Then she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Jimmy felt even more like a geek.
I’m not supposed to,” she said. “Mothers are not supposed to have a clue.”
Why couldn’t I have rented one?” Jimmy asked for the nine-hundredth time that afternoon.
You know why,” she said, turning her back and fussing with something out of his sightline. “We can’t afford it. Your uncle had this perfectly serviceable tuxedo and it’s a shame not to use it.”
She reappeared beside him in the mirror, her hand on her hip. Her mouth was a tight line. Jimmy knew that poking at the nerve that they were not a family of means was a low blow. He had seen that look before. This was the same look she had given him as a kid when he wanted a toy that was just too expensive. It was the same look she had given him when he begged her for a cell phone. And he saw the exact same look from her whenever he talked about needing a car.
I spent a lot of time getting the shirt and pants to fit you,” she said. “I did the best I could with the jacket. If you want, you can spend the night at home with me instead of going at all. So, either deal with this situation the best you can or don’t go. I really don’t care.”
She cared. Jimmy knew she cared. She and his father had worked their fingers to the bone to provide for Jimmy. The family had never gone hungry. They had never been without clothes. They may have shopped for their new school wardrobe at Goodwill, but they had clothes. They may have eaten more macaroni and cheese than others, but they were never hungry. Their car may have been rusted through and coughed out oily blue smoke, but they always got where they needed to go. The house may have been run down and it may have been in the part of town most of the other kids avoided, but they always had a roof over their heads. Then his father had died, suddenly, a few years ago. The pain was always there, behind Jimmy’s eyes, lurking around every corner. His dad had done what he could to make sure his family was cared for, but it had not been easy. His mother worked very hard.
Jimmy smiled his crooked smile. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I appreciate it, Mom. Come on, it wouldn’t be a weekend if I didn’t complain about something.”
His mother’s face softened and then her smile returned. Jimmy managed to turn away, searching for the bow tie, before she could plant another kiss on him. He was only willing to be gracious up to a certain point. He found the tie and fiddled with it for a moment. When he turned back toward the mirror his mother was fiddling with something behind him again. He affixed the tie and straightened it. He took another look. His image still said “dork,” but he had lived with that image for a long time.
Before too long he would be elsewhere, and all of the things he had gone through in high school would be over. He could live with looking like a dork for another night. Besides, he was going with his best friend George, anyway, so things couldn’t get too bad.
When is George getting here?” his mother asked.
About five more minutes,” Jimmy said.
I wish you two had managed to find some nice girls to ask,” his mother said.
Mom, there isn’t a girl in Knorr High School that would be caught dead attending the senior prom with Jimmy Parker or George Howell,” he said as he adjusted his tie one more time. It immediately went crooked again, and he decided that the tie really didn’t matter.
I’m sure that’s not true,” his mother said.
Jimmy turned to face her. “Mom, trust me on this one. George and I are not the most popular kids in school. In fact, we are far from it.”
She reached out and pinched his cheeks. This was the one thing worse than the kiss on the cheek. One thing was certain: his mother had some kind of cheek fetish.
But you’re such a smart, nice kid,” she said.
Jimmy snorted. “Mom, even in your day the smart and nice kids were not the popular ones in school, were they?”
She put her hands on his shoulders. “I found your father in high school. He was smart and nice.”
He also played football,” Jimmy said.
He was the kicker,” she said. “You know, back in the old days when dinosaurs walked the Earth, and your father and I were young.”
Kickers still wear uniforms,” Jimmy said. He paused to make sure his hair looked OK one more time. The cowlick towards the back of his head was still there despite the industrial strength hair gel he had put in there.
Just then, the phone rang. Jimmy’s mother vanished into the kitchen and Jimmy turned back to the mirror and adjusted his tie for the millionth time. He also tried to plaster his hair down, but to no avail. He sighed. He was always going to look this way, right?
Jimmy,” his mother said, returning to the bedroom. “It’s Jesse.”
Jimmy smiled. Jesse was the town’s librarian. The library was small, but filled with wonder, as far as Jimmy was concerned. It overlooked a river and was surrounded by touristy attractions, but inside it was all books and musty smells. Jimmy had buried himself there when his father died and Jesse had taken a kind of liking to him. It may have been a stretch to say that Jesse was a father figure, but their relationship was pretty close. Jimmy ran to the phone.
Hey, Jimmy! Are you looking sharp in your suit?” Jesse asked.
Jimmy laughed. “Jesse, I would not look sharp wearing a suit full of razor blades.”
Come on, you know that isn’t true,” Jesse said. “I’m sure you and George will have a good time. Maybe try to get up the nerve to ask a girl to dance.”
I wouldn’t put money on that,” Jimmy said. “I’m betting most of the girls there arrive with dates.”
You just never know,” Jesse said. “I had a pretty amazing time the night of the big dance when I was your age. And I ended up going with a beautiful girl, to boot. You need to be a bit more positive.”
A honk came from outside. This was followed shortly by a sound that was only slightly quieter than a Howitzer shell going off in the living room. George had arrived with his car. The engine settled into a low rattle as the car set about trying to shake itself to pieces again.
Yo, Jimmy!” came the bellow from the car. That could only have been George leaning out the driver’s side window. George was not known for being subtle.
That sounds like George,” Jesse said.
Yeah, that’s him,” Jimmy said.
There was a pause. It seemed like there was more to say, but anything else would have crossed some line between them and that line was still held by Jimmy’s father, even though he was gone.
You be careful tonight, Jimmy,” Jesse said. “Come by the library when you can and tell me all about it or give me a call tomorrow.”
I will,” Jimmy said, and paused, then added. “Thanks for calling.”
You bet,” Jesse said.
Then he was gone, and Jimmy ran back to the bedroom. His mother was there with her hands to her throat in an unconscious anxious gesture she often did, looking as if maybe she had been crying. His mom appreciated how Jesse looked after him, but the pain of losing his father was still there. Jimmy smiled and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Another honk came from outside, so Jimmy had to move.
Jimmy tried to move past his mother, but she grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him back and looking him full in the face again. She smiled, and, much to Jimmy’s consternation, he saw tears swimming in her eyes. She was about to give him some sort of speech about how proud she was of him. It would be similar to one she had given him when he had first gotten the scholarship to attend Clark University.
Be careful,” she said instead, her voice quavering. “And have fun.”
Jimmy smiled. This time, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. He left quickly just because he did not want to see her cry. He ran down the hall and through the living room.
Jimmy bolted through the door and heard it bang shut behind him. George was hanging out the window of his car, his tuxedo jacket already tossed in the backseat. He had a huge grin on his face, his hair already wild and windblown from driving with the window down.
Come on, the party awaits!” he yelled in the rather odd way of speaking that George had and that so marked him as an outsider, and leaned back into the car, reaching over the passenger’s seat to unlock the door.
What’s it waiting for?” Jimmy asked as he opened the large, rusty door with a loud screeching sound.
Us, my man,” George said as Jimmy planted his ass on the passenger seat and slammed the door. “It is waiting for us.”
Jimmy laughed. “You do live in an amazing fantasy world.”
George leaned around the passenger seat to peer out the back window as he shifted into reverse. “You should move into my world, my friend,” he said. “Plenty of room, and the fun never stops.”
Jimmy laughed again. He thought that maybe it would be a night to remember, after all. Once Jimmy was situated in the passenger seat, as often happened when he was with George, Jimmy’s own form of speech slipped into the oddly formal way that George spoke.
Then lead on, sir,” he said. “Lead on!”

Friday, August 9, 2013

In Times of Trouble by Yolonda Tonette Sanders - Book Tour & Giveaway

In Times of Trouble
by Yolonda Tonette Sanders

MM: Welcome to Mass Musings Yolonda! I'm so excited you could join us today for a chat :). Many authors relate their characters to people they know. Is this the case with your characters and do you see yourself in any of them?

There are times when I may loosely base a character on someone I know. I can also see bits of my personality or habits in some characters as well. For instance, one thing that Lisa and I have in common is our low tolerance for disrespect from our children. In any case, there’s no single individual on which I can claim a character is totally based.

MM: Who is your favorite character in your book and why?

RJ. He is a guy who has made some mistakes in life, but who hasn’t let those mistakes stop him from moving forward. I also appreciate his unwavering love for his family.

MM: Who is your most favorite character from any book of all time?

Anne from Anne of Green Gables. She is funny and I can identify with how picky she is about the spelling of her name since my first name is often misspelled. One of the funniest moments in that book to me was when she commented on the way a teacher had said her name. Anne said that she could tell she pronounced it without an “e.”

MM: If you could dive into the pages of any book, which book would it be and what character would you be?

This is a great question for which I am truly stumped! Hmmm . . . maybe I would be Anne from Anne of Green Gables. She’s funny and sometimes a little melodramatic (like me), but she genuinely cares about her loved ones. That’s another characteristic we have in common.

MM: If your book was to become a movie, which actors/actresses do you see playing the parts of your characters?

Thandi Newton as Lisa
KeKe Palmer as Chanelle
Blair Underwood as RJ
Meagan Good as Tyra
Angela Bassett or Regina King as Olivia or Callie
Jamie Foxx as Eric
Selena Gomez or Demi Lovato as Stacie

MM: What can we expect from Yolonda Tonette Sanders in the future? Any new projects?

I have a mystery/suspense series scheduled to be released in April 2014. You can also expect a young adult series from me in the upcoming years as my agent is currently shopping around one story of this series. In addition, I have a nonfiction project twirling about in my mind, so stay tuned.

MM: Where can readers connect with you?

Thank you so much for taking time to chat with me today. It's been a wonderful pleasure.

Thank you for having me as your guest. I have enjoyed our chat!

About The Author:

Yolonda Tonette Sanders took a leap of faith in 2004 when she resigned from her job with the State of Ohio after only three and a half years to focus more on writing. It was a leap that she has never regretted. In 2005, her debut novel, Soul Matters, was published by Walk Worthy Press and Time Warner (now Hachette Book Group). In 2008, her second book, Secrets of a Sinner, was published by Harlequin/Kimani Press. That same year Yolonda started Yo Productions, LLC, a Christian based literary services and theatrical entertainment company, which she used to launch and create her first stage production. The theatrical version of Soul Matters debuted successfully in September 2009 at the Capitol Theatre in downtown Columbus, Ohio. Since then, Strebor Books, an imprint of Simon and Schuster, is planning to release four of Yolonda’s titles by April 2015. Currently, Yolonda resides in Columbus, Ohio and is the loving wife of David, proud mother of Tre and Tia, and joyful caregiver of her mother, Wilene.

Genre: Christian | Contemporary | Inspirational
Publisher: Simon and Schuster/Strebor Books
Release Date: April 23, 2013

Book Description:

Divorced, single mother Lisa Hampton is grateful for a fresh start after a humiliating scandal forced her to relocate from Maryland to Ohio. Her biggest issue nowadays is dealing with her rebellious teenage daughter, Chanelle, who is one smart comment away from being toothless!

Other than the stress of dealing with Chanelle, life is perfect. Lisa has a new beau and a steady job that allows her the opportunity to rub shoulders with very wealthy and influential people. She is best friends with Isaac and Olivia Scott, an extremely rich and powerful couple.

When Chanelle accuses the Scotts’ son of rape, Lisa learns how quickly her friends become enemies as Olivia and Isaac use their wealth and power to manipulate justice. The Scotts prove that they are willing to go to extreme lengths to protect their son, even if it means destroying both Lisa and Chanelle in the process.


Hearing the sound of her mother's footsteps descending the hardwood stairs, Lisa leaned back on the sofa so as not to appear overly anxious.
"Chanelle still hasn’t made it home?” Her mother’s wire-framed glasses rested at the tip of her nose while a large green robe concealed her body.
  "Nope. . ."
  "Did you call Jareeka’s?”
Yes; her father said that she and her mother are away for the weekend.” She felt herself tensing with every word.
What about RJ? Have you called him?”
He hasn’t seen her either.”
Well, don’t come down too hard on her. Maybe she didn't know Jareeka was out of town and when she found out, she decided to hang with one of her other friends instead. Now she should’ve at least called and told you, but she was probably so happy to get out the house that she forgot. Poor thing; it seems like she’s always on punishment. Sometimes I think you’re too hard on that girl. I don't want to meddle—"
  "Then please don't," the thirty-eight-year-old interjected in the most respectful tone that she could conjure up with a clenched jaw.
"All right. I'll keep my opinion to myself, but I was merely going to say that you may want to consider extending Chanelle's curfew. She’s practically an adult and it’s time you start treating her like one. Maybe then you’d be less likely to run into this problem."
 An electrifying jolt shot through Lisa’s body. The way she disciplined Chanelle had become a constant point of contention between her and her mother. Thank goodness Hattie would soon be moving into her own apartment! Lisa could not wait!
That makes absolutely no sense!” she fired back. “What she is, is irresponsible. Why should I reward her for not being able to honor her curfew? And anyhow, she wouldn’t have been on punishment recently had she not been so smart at the mouth.”
I wonder where she got it from . . .” her mother replied cynically, quickly disappearing into the kitchen and returning moments later. “Good night."
  "The same to you,” Lisa replied, continuing to stew as the clock read 1:21 a.m. The only other noise she heard was the emptying of the automatic ice machine until ten minutes or so later when a car pulled into the driveway. Lisa’s heart began racing when she saw flashing blue and red lights from the window. It wasn’t her car as she had thought, but a police cruiser. A gut-wrenching fear fell over her. Had something horrible happened to Chanelle? She felt guilty about being so angry and the missed curfew was now a minor issue compared to the concern that her baby might be lying in the hospital somewhere. Lisa was horrified by the unlimited possibilities of things that could’ve happened to her daughter. The pit of her stomach knotted as she sprang from the couch and raced to the front door.

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Untimed by Andy Gavin - Promotional Tour & Giveaway

by Andy Gavin

Genre YA Time Travel Adventure/Romance

Publisher Mascherato Publishing
Release Date December 18, 2012

Book Description:

Untimed is an action-packed time travel novel by Andy Gavin, author of The Darkening Dream and creator of Crash Bandicoot and Jak & Daxter.

Charlie's the kind of boy that no one notices. Hell, his own mother can't remember his name. So when a mysterious clockwork man tries to kill him in modern day Philadelphia, and they tumble through a hole into 1725 London, Charlie realizes even the laws of time don't take him seriously. Still, this isn't all bad. Who needs school when you can learn about history first hand, like from Ben Franklin himself. And there's this girl... Yvaine... another time traveler. All good. Except for the rules: boys only travel into the past and girls only into the future. And the baggage: Yvaine's got a baby boy and more than her share of ex-boyfriends. Still, even if they screw up history -- like accidentally let the founding father be killed -- they can just time travel and fix it, right? But the future they return to is nothing like Charlie remembers. To set things right, he and his scrappy new girlfriend will have to race across the centuries, battling murderous machines from the future, jealous lovers, reluctant parents, and time itself.

Excerpt: Chapter One "Untamed"

UNTIMED by Andy Gavin Illustrations by Dave Phillips Advance Review First Chapter Cover Art Not Final Formatting Not Final Illustration Formatting Not Final © 2011-2012, Andy Gavin. All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. MASCHERATO PUBLISHING PO Box 1550 Pacific Palisades, Ca, 90272 Copyright © Andy Gavin 2012 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. MS version: 3.20a 75,300 words, November 19, 2012, 1:19:29 PM PST Cover Photo-Illustration copyright © Cliff Nielsen 2012 Interior Illustrations copyright © Dave Phillips 2012 E-book ISBN 978-1-937945-05-3 Hardcover ISBN 978-1-937945-03-9 Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-937945-04-6 Chapter One: Ignored Philadelphia, Autumn, 2010 and Winter, 2011 My mother loves me and all, it’s just that she can’t remember my name. “Call him Charlie,” is written on yellow Post-its all over our house. “Just a family joke,” Mom tells the rare friend who drops by and bothers to inquire. But it isn’t funny. And those house guests are more likely to notice the neon paper squares than they are me. “He’s getting so tall. What was his name again?” I always remind them. Not that it helps. Only Dad remembers, and Aunt Sophie, but they’re gone more often than not — months at a stretch. This time, when my dad returns he brings a ginormous stack of history books. “Read these.” The muted bulbs in the living room sharpen the shadows on his pale face, making him stand out like a cartoon in a live-action film. “You have to keep your facts straight.” I peruse the titles: Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Asprey’s The Rise of Napoleon Bonaparte, Ben Franklin’s Autobiography. Just three among many. “Listen to him, Charlie,” Aunt Sophie says. “You’ll be glad you did.” She brushes out her shining tresses. Dad’s sister always has a glow about her. “Where’d you go this time?” I say. Dad’s supposed to be this hotshot political historian. He reads and writes a lot, but I’ve never seen his name in print. “The Middle East.” Aunt Sophie’s more specific than usual. Dad frowns. “We dropped in on someone important.” When he says dropped in, I imagine Sophie dressed like Lara Croft, parachuting into Baghdad. “Is that where you got the new scar?” A pink welt snakes from the bridge of her nose to the corner of her mouth. She looks older than I remember — they both do. “An argument with a rival… researcher.” My aunt winds the old mantel clock, the one that belonged to her mom, my grandmother. Then tosses the key to my dad, who fumbles and drops it. “You need to tell him soon,” she says. Tell me what? I hate this. Dad looks away. “We’ll come back for his birthday.” * * * While Dad and Sophie unpack, Mom helps me carry the dusty books to my room. “Time isn’t right for either of you yet,” she says. Whatever that means. I snag the thinnest volume and hop onto my bed to read. Not much else to do since I don’t have friends and school makes me feel even more the ghost. * * * Mrs. Pinkle, my ninth-grade homeroom teacher, pauses on my name during roll call. Like she does every morning. “Charlie Horologe,” she says, squinting at the laminated chart, then at me, as if seeing both for the first time. “Here.” On the bright side, I always get B’s no matter what I write on the paper. In Earth Science, the teacher describes a primitive battery built from a glass of salt water covered in tin foil. She calls it a Leyden jar. I already know about them from Ben Franklin’s autobiography — he used one to kill and cook a turkey, which I doubt would fly with the school board. The teacher beats the topic to death, so I practice note-taking in the cipher Dad taught me over the weekend. He shows me all sorts of cool things — when he’s around. The system’s simple, just twenty-six made-up letters to replace the regular ones. Nobody else knows them. I write in highlighter and outline in red, which makes the page look like some punk wizard’s spell book. My science notes devolve into a story about how the blonde in the front row invites me to help her with her homework. At her house. In her bedroom. With her parents out of town. Good thing it’s in cipher. After school is practice, and that’s better. With my slight build and long legs, I’m good at track and field — not that the rest of the team notices. A more observant coach might call me a well-rounded athlete. The pole vault is my favorite, and only one other kid can even do it right. Last month at the Pennsylvania state regionals, I cleared 16’ 4”, which for my age is like world class. Davy — that’s the other guy — managed just 14’ 8”. And won. As if I never ran that track, planted the pole in the box, and threw myself over the bar. The judges were looking somewhere else? Or maybe their score sheets blew away in the wind. I’m used to it. * * * Dad is nothing if not scheduled. He and Sophie visit twice a year, two weeks in October, and two weeks in January for my birthday. But after my aunt’s little aside, I don’t know if I can wait three months for the big reveal, whatever it is. So I catch them in his study. “Dad, why don’t you just tell me?” He looks up from his cheesesteak and the book he’s reading — small, with only a few shiny metallic pages. I haven’t seen it before, which is strange, since I comb through all his worldly possessions whenever he’s away. “I’m old enough to handle it.” I sound brave, but even Mom never looks him in the eye. And he’s never home — it’s not like I have practice at this. My stomach twists. I might not like what he has to say. “Man is not God.” One of his favorite expressions, but what the hell is it supposed to mean? “Fink.” For some reason Aunt Sophie always calls him that. “Show him the pages.” He sighs and gathers up the weird metallic book. “This is between the three of us. No need to stress your mother.” What about stressing me? He stares at some imaginary point on the ceiling, like he always does when he lectures. “Our family has—” The front doorbell rings. His gaze snaps down, his mouth snaps shut. Out in the hall, I hear my mom answer, then men’s voices. “Charlie,” Dad says, “go see who it is.” “But—” “Close the door behind you.” * * * I stomp down the hall. Mom is talking to the police. Two cops and a guy in a suit. “Ma’am,” Uniform with Mustache says, “is your husband home?” “May I help you?” she asks. “We have a warrant.” He fumbles in his jacket and hands her an official-looking paper. “This is for John Doe,” she tells him. The cop turns to the man in the suit, deep blue, with a matching bowler hat like some guy on PBS. The dude even carries a cane — not the old-lady-with-a-limp type, more stroll-in-the-park. Blue Suit — a detective? — tilts forward to whisper in the cop’s ear. I can’t hear anything but I notice his outfit is crisp. Every seam stands out bright and clear. Everything else about him too. “We need to speak to your husband,” the uniformed cop says. I mentally kick myself for not ambushing Dad an hour earlier. Eventually, the police tire of the runaround and shove past me as if I don’t exist. I tag along to watch them search the house. When they reach the study, Dad and Sophie are gone. The window’s closed and bolted from the inside. All the other rooms are empty too, but this doesn’t stop them from slitting every sofa cushion and uncovering my box of secret DVDs. * * * Mom and I don’t talk about Dad’s hasty departure, but I do hear her call the police and ask about the warrant. They have no idea who she’s talking about. Yesterday, I thought Dad was about to deliver the Your mother and I have grown apart speech. Now I’m thinking more along the lines of secret agent or international kingpin. But the months crawl by, business as usual, until my birthday comes and goes without any answers — or the promised visit from Dad. I try not to let on that it bothers me. He’s never missed my birthday, but then, the cops never came before, either. Mom and I celebrate with cupcakes. Mine is jammed with sixteen candles, one extra for good luck. I pry up the wrapping paper from the corner of her present. “It’s customary to blow out the candles first,” Mom says. “More a guideline than a rule,” I say. “Call it advanced reconnaissance.” That’s a phrase I picked up from Sophie. Mom does a dorky eye roll, but I get the present open and find she did well by me, the latest iPhone — even if she skimped on the gigabytes. I use it to take two photos of her and then, holding it out, one of us together. She smiles and pats my hand. “This way, when you’re out on a date you can check in.” I’m thinking more about surfing the web during class. “Mom, girls never notice me.” “How about Michelle next door? She’s cute.” Mom’s right about the cute. We live in a duplex, an old house her family bought like a hundred years ago. Our tenants, the Montags, rent the other half, and we’ve celebrated every Fourth of July together as long as I can remember. “Girls don’t pay attention to me.” Sometimes paraphrasing helps Mom understand. “All teenage boys say that — your father certainly did.” My throat tightens. “There’s a father-son track event this week.” A month ago, I went into orbit when I discovered it fell during Dad’s visit, but now it’s just a major bummer — and a pending embarrassment. She kisses me on the forehead. “He’ll be here if he can, honey. And if not, I’ll race. You don’t get your speed from his side of the family.” True enough. She was a college tennis champ and he’s a flat-foot who likes foie gras. But still. * * * Our history class takes a field trip to Independence Park, where the teacher prattles on in front of the Liberty Bell. I’ve probably read more about it than she has. Michelle is standing nearby with a girlfriend. The other day I tapped out a script on my phone — using our family cipher — complete with her possible responses to my asking her out. Maybe Mom’s right. I slide over. “Hey, Michelle, I’m really looking forward to next Fourth of July.” “It’s January.” She has a lot of eyeliner on, which would look pretty sexy if she wasn’t glaring at me. “Do I know you from somewhere?” That wasn’t in my script. I drift away. Being forgettable has advantages. I tighten the laces on my trainers then flop a leg up on the fence to stretch. Soon as I’m loose enough, I sprint up the park toward the red brick hulk of Independence Hall. The teachers will notice the headcount is one short but of course they’ll have trouble figuring out who’s missing. And while a bunch of cops are lounging about — national historic landmark and all — even if one stops me, he won’t remember my name long enough to write up a ticket. The sky gleams with that cloudless blue that sometimes graces Philly. The air is crisp and smells of wood smoke. I consider lapping the building. Then I notice the man exiting the hall. He glides out the white-painted door behind someone else and seesaws down the steps to the slate courtyard. He wears a deep blue suit and a matching bowler hat. His stride is rapid and he taps his walking stick against the pavement like clockwork. The police detective. I shift into a jog and follow him down the block toward the river. I don’t think he sees me, but he has this peculiar way of looking around, pivoting his head side to side as he goes. It’s hard to explain what makes him different. His motions are stiff but he cuts through space without apparent effort. Despite the dull navy outfit, he looks sharper than the rest of the world, more in focus. Like Dad and Sophie. The man turns left at Chestnut and Third, and I follow him into Franklin Court. He stops inside the skeleton of Ben Franklin’s missing house. Some idiots tore it down two hundred years ago, but for the bicentennial the city erected a steel ‘ghost house’ to replace it. I tuck myself behind one of the big white girders and watch. The man unbuttons his suit and winds himself. Yes, that’s right. He winds himself. Like a clock. There’s no shirt under his jacket — just clockwork guts, spinning gears, and whirling cogs. There’s even a rocking pendulum. He takes a T-shaped key from his pocket, sticks it in his torso, and cranks. Hardly police standard procedure. Clueless tourists pass him without so much as a sideways glance. And I always assumed the going unnoticed thing was just me. He stops winding and scans the courtyard, calibrating his head on first one point then another while his finger spins brass dials on his chest. I watch, almost afraid to breathe. CHIME. The man rings, a deep brassy sound — not unlike Grandmom’s old mantel clock. I must have gasped, because he looks at me, his head ratcheting around 270 degrees until our eyes lock. Glass eyes. Glass eyes set in a face of carved ivory. His mouth opens and the ivory mask that is his face parts along his jaw line to reveal more cogs. CHIME. The sound reverberates through the empty bones of Franklin Court. He takes his cane from under his arm and draws a blade from it as a stage-magician might a handkerchief. CHIME. He raises the thin line of steel and glides in my direction. CHIME. Heart beating like a rabbit’s, I scuttle across the cobblestones and fling myself over a low brick wall. CHIME. His walking-stick-cum-sword strikes against the brick and throws sparks. He’s so close I hear his clockwork innards ticking, a tiny metallic tinkle. CHIME. I roll away from the wall and spring to my feet. He bounds over in pursuit. CHIME. I backpedal. I could run faster if I turned around, but a stab in the back isn’t high on my wishlist. CHIME. He strides toward me, one hand on his hip, the other slices the air with his rapier. An older couple shuffles by and glances his way, but apparently they don’t see what I see. CHIME. I stumble over a rock, snatch it up, and hurl it at him. Thanks to shot put practice, it strikes him full in the face, stopping him cold. CHIME. He tilts his head from side to side. I see a thin crack in his ivory mask, but otherwise he seems unharmed. CHIME. I dance to the side, eying the pavement, find another rock and grab it. CHIME. We stand our ground, he with his sword and me with my stone. “Your move, Timex!” I hope I sound braver than I feel. CHIME. Beneath the clockwork man, a hole opens. The manhole-sized circle in the cobblestones seethes and boils, spilling pale light up into the world. He stands above it, legs spread, toes on the pavement, heels dipping into nothingness. The sun dims in the sky. Like an eclipse — still visible, just not as bright. My heart threatens to break through my ribs, but I inch closer. The mechanical man brings his legs together and drops into the hole. The seething boiling hole. I step forward and look down…. Into a whirlpool that could eat the Titanic for breakfast. But there’s no water, only a swirling tube made of a million pulverized galaxies. Not that my eyes can really latch onto anything inside, except for the man. His crisp dark form shrinks into faraway brightness. Is this where Dad goes when he drops in on someone? Is the clockwork dude his rival researcher? The sun brightens, and as it does, the hole starts to contract. Sharp edges of pavement eat into it, closing fast. I can’t let him get away. Somehow we’re all connected. Me, the mechanical man, Sophie, and Dad. I take a step forward and let myself fall.

About The Author:

Andy Gavin is an unstoppable storyteller who studied for his Ph.D. at M.I.T. and founded video game developer Naughty Dog, Inc. at the age of fifteen, serving as co-president for two decades. There he created, produced, and directed over a dozen video games, including the award winning and best selling Crash Bandicoot and Jak & Daxter franchises, selling over 40 million units worldwide. He sleeps little, reads novels and histories, watches media obsessively, travels, and of course, writes.

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