Books and Lyrics by JoAnne

Good morning everyone. Welcome to my blog and the sixth day of the Fool For Books Giveaway Hop. I had a great Easter Sunday, and I hope you enjoyed the day also. This party is almost over, and I hope you have learned more about me and my books. Here at my Books and Paintings by JoAnne Blog, you will find my books and canvas art, for all your reading and home decor' needs. Today I will be posting about my biography true crime anthology, "Twisted Love"- 12 cases of love gone bad. As always, I will be awarding one book per day of this hop, so please do comment. Have fun, eat a lot of ham, and please browse around my website before moving on.

It’s a chilling reality that homicide investigators know all too well: the last face most murder victims see is not that of a stranger, but of someone familiar.

The End of Autumn-To keep from paying child support for his three children, Rodney Williams, plots with his parents to kidnap his estranged wife, 25-year old Autumn, in broad daylight. This 2011 crime shocked the small community of Logan, Ohio.

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing-In 2011, 53 year old Russell Strothers, and his teenage accomplice find their victims through Craigslist and strike with calculating and deadly force.

A Senseless Killing-This 2010 case uncovers how a 40 year old likable barmaid was lured to her death after she rejects her young admirers sexual advances.

The Death of Innocence-This 2011 murder case involved 4 year old Marcie Willis, and her evil stepmother 25 year old Cheryl, from the small bedroom community of The Plains, Ohio.

The Girl Not Forgotten-This cold case took 26 years to solve, but brought justice for 13-year-old Holly Buford, and put serial rapist, 40-year-old Stanley Snead, behind bars.

The Possession-When 29-year-old Valerie Harris severs the penis of her sexually abusive father, it makes national news in 2007.

Home Town Hero-When deaf students are murdered in the prestigious Rose Brick College of the Deaf in 2008, everyone is shocked when discovering the killer is one of their own.

Horrible Sin-When 42 year old Fortune Teller Sally Vu and her 21-year-old daughter Veronica are discovered murdered and physically desecrated, in 2001, evidence points to revenge and a spell gone wrong.

All For the Family-In 2003, as a way to erase her 22-year-old husbands criminal past, 19 year old Molly Abbott devises a ghoulish and desperate strategy.

Thicker Than Water?-When 52 year old Kim Michaels is found dismembered inside her burned out home in 1996, officers find the crime more confusing than a jig saw puzzle.

Mail Order Murder-The last thing the beautiful Russian mail order bride Anna dreamed of in 2001, was being murdered by her controlling and older American husband.

Where’s Christopher?-When four year old Christopher Ellis goes missing, numerous excuses and an odd odor emanating from the backyard in 1991, raises eyebrows.

March 22, 2011, could have been just an ordinary Tuesday evening for the small industrial town of Logan, Ohio, population 7,152, if it were not for the glass-shattering screams of a female, emanating from the alley next to the Bancroft National Bank in downtown Logan.

The first witness was a twenty-one-year-old named Richard. He told police he was walking in the area of the bank when he saw a girl curled in a ball on the ground, with two grown men standing above her, Tasing her. When he got approximately one foot away from the woman and the men, a woman driver yelled to the men that someone was behind them. Richard was then pepper-sprayed by one of two male attackers when he tried to intervene. He raced off to an adjoining fitness center.

A woman named Rachel, who was outside the fitness center, called 911 to report that a man was pepper-sprayed while attempting to help a woman who had been attacked. According to Rachel, Richard was in severe pain when he ran up to her while holding his eyes and yelling for help.

Richard gave descriptions of the attackers as being two large dark-haired men, with the driver of the white Buick or Crown Victoria being an older female, with “bleached blonde,” hair.

Bob, an architect working in his upstairs office in the adjoining building next to the alley relayed that he had heard the commotion and told the persons to “ keep the noise down.”

At the same time, two female joggers witnessed a young woman being shoved into a white Crown Victoria. Reportedly, they were near the same bank as was Richard, when they heard a girl scream and heard a Taser go off. They proceeded to cross the alley, beside the bank, noting that as they neared the commotion, the woman being Tasered, seemed to be in a violent struggle with her attackers.

The joggers, too, described the young woman as screaming while two men stood over her with a Taser. The men were dressed in black and had ski masks covering their faces. The woman on the ground wore her hair in a ponytail, which they described as being a dirty-blond color. Then a woman’s voice from the driver’s seat yelled, “ ‘Get the hell in the car.’”

From there, the joggers witnessed the victim tossed into the back seat of the vehicle, which then frantically sped away. The woman driving the vehicle was “frenzied” and “the blinkers and turn signals” were being used erratically.

After talking with Richard, officers located the area of the attack. The victim was no where in sight, but what was found was one car in the bank parking lot, the back of a phone, a box of Tic-Tacs, a used container of Mace, a Mountain Dew bottle, a ball cap and a set of keys on the asphalt. Found in soft soil behind a hedge, said one officer, were what appeared to be foot and knee prints as “if someone lay in wait.” After checking with the bank, officers found it unlocked and entered. Inside the bank, all they found was an iPod lying on a counter.

Not until 11 o’clock that night did police identify the kidnapped victim as twenty-five-year-old Autumn Renee Williams. The green-eyed Culinary Arts student, who stood five-foot-four, was reported missing by her mother and stepfather, Candice and Mark Stevens, when she failed to return home around 9:30 that evening after her cleaning position at the Bancroft National Bank.

Shortly after arriving at the bank, seeing no sign of Autumn, the Stevens’ contacted the Logan Police Department. Two different officers then responded. From Mrs. Stevens, authorities learned that Autumn was a mother of three, and involved with a tumultuous pending divorce with her estranged husband of six-years, twenty-six-year-old Rodney Williams.

The center of the couple’s disagreements was custody of their three children, all under the age of five. According to Candace, Rodney did not want to pay child support for three kids.

When a frantic 9-1-1 call came into the police station at 8:30 p.m. on July 7, 2009, a sobbing twenty-nine-year-old Valerie Harris told the dispatcher she wanted desperately to save the life of her bleeding father, Harry Ridge.

She gave the operator her apartment address. She would later tell authorities that she did not want to kill her sexually abusive father, but only to disable his weapon of abuse-his penis.

She informed the operator she was walking in the direction of the police station, and then hung up. She recalled walking to the nearby Hudson River, and tossing the penis into the ocean. She never arrived at the police station.

Instead, she called her big sister Carleen, and confessed to her of what she had just done to their Liberian-born father. Carleen recalled being in total shock at her baby sisters gruesome confession. She begged Valerie not to discard the appendage, saying, doctors had the medical technology to reattach such things.

Valerie, her hair adorned with cornrows cried into the telephone. “It was the evil in our father. Now the evil is gone. He can hurt no more!”

Carleen advised Valerie to come to her home, and called an ambulance when her sister arrived. After seeing Valerie, her face stained with tears and splattered with blood, with the scalpel in hand and in a “zombie-like state of mind,” the ambulance crew, decided to check her into the Richmond University Medical Center psychiatric ward.

Meanwhile, back at Valerie’s apartment, two responding beat cops arrived. What the officers found, they said, they never forgot, and neither did the two million five hundred thousand other citizens.

Initially, the officers thought the man lying in a pool of blood had been shot or stabbed to death. Not until they turned him over onto his back did they realize the sadistic nature of his wounds.

I have been a long-time resident of southeastern Ohio, and worked in the blue-collar industry most of my life. Besides having 7 novels under my belt, I canvas paint.

When not busy with hobbies or working outside the home, I spend time with relatives, my dog Jasmine, and volunteer my time within the community. I am a member of the International Women’s Writing Guild, Savvy Authors, Coffee Time Romance, Paranormal Romance Guild, True Romance Studios, National Writers Association, the Hocking Hill's Arts and Craftsmen Association, The Hocking County Historical Society and Museum, and the Hocking Hills Regional Welcome Center. I believe in family values and following your dreams. My original canvas paintings, can be found at: http://www.booksandpaintingsbyjoanne.com

Good evening and HAPPY, HAPPY EASTER everyone. Welcome to my blog and the fifth day of the Fool For Books Giveaway Hop. I have just returned from a relativies home and am eager to post further. Here at my Books and Paintings by JoAnne Blog, you will find my books and canvas art, for all your reading and home decor' needs. Today I will be posting about my crime/mystery anthology, "Flagitious". As always, I will be awarding one book per day of this hop, so please do comment. Have fun, eat a lot of ham, and please browse around my website before moving on.

After his Air Force career was interrupted by his mother’s untimely murder, Steven Moore, returned home. Met with a cold reception of lies, secrets, and threats, he is determined too find Wanda’s killer, even at the cost of his own life. Was Wanda a victim of the legendary Hatchet Man? Was this loving and devoted mother killed because of her shady past, or for her inheritance? Between finding the truth and falling in love, Steven stops at nothing, too solve his mother’s murder.

Charlotte had it all. A loving and devoted husband. Supportive family and friends, and a house full of beautiful children. Everything was perfect for this Super Mom, until a medical procedure turns her life upside down, and spirals into a child abduction case. Time is running out. Will police arrive in time to save Charlotte and the other couple’s child?

Katherine Sims, a young widow working for a brokerage firm in a small southeastern town, is tired of the excuses concerning Charlie’s absence. She knows something terrible must have happened to her favorite nephew with the sad blue-eyes. After exposing the killer, Katherine’s life is turned upside down and she finds herself fighting for her life. Filled with maniacal suspects, a Satanic Cult, and danger around each corner, this story depicts one woman’s courage too avenge a child’s murder, while finding unexpected love.

New Detective, and ex-navel man, twenty-six-year-old Nick Difozzio, returns to his small county determined too abolish crime. Not until death knocked on his door, did he know the face of evil. Will the decorated veteran destroy the Lycanthropes, or will he succumb to their murderess desires and become one of them? He took an oath too protect, honor, and uphold the law, but can he defy the lust, riches, and power offered, or are the ‘dark forces’ stronger than his will?

Already en route to her place, Steven saw the first smoke, and knew Vivien was in trouble. Using his cell phone, he dialed 911 for the fire department and gunned his engine. Screaming into the stable’s driveway, he arrived just as the arsonist sped away on a dirt bike, but heard the sounds of screaming horses. Vivien and the horses took priority. Running to the nearby water trough, he dove in headfirst then raced inside the smoke-filled structure to meet Vivien limping toward him.

Once he had Vivien safely outside, he re-entered the building and, hooding them, ran out the horses. Inside one of the stalls, he found Willy, dead, killed by the arsonist. Then the wails of fire trucks, came over the hills.

Steven patted Vivien’s soiled and bruised face with cool water until she slowly opened her eyes, and whispered. “Hi.”

“Hi, to you, too, darling.” He tenderly kissed her forehead. “You really scared me.”

Paramedics patched up Vivien before placing her on a stretcher and transporting her to the local hospital. “I’ll be there shortly, I promise,” he answered with a goodbye kiss.

Once she was on her way, Steven turned to the Fire Chief. “We know it’s arson, but Vivien didn’t recognize the intruder’s voice.”

“Who do you think set the blaze?” the Fire Chief asked. “We don’t have random arsons. You must suspect someone?”

“I’ll have you a list by the morning,” he replied, boarding his truck and hauling ass for the hospital.

On the way, he drove past a hole-in-the-wall beer joint. Parked outside was a bike exactly matching the pyromaniac’s ride. Making a quick U-turn on the gravel road, loud enough to be heard in the next county, he pulled into the parking lot, driving right over the bike. After jumping from the truck and admiring his handiwork, he gleefully said, “Yep. Flat as a pancake.”

When Steven entered the dark musty bar, he gained the attention of all seven patrons at once by shouting, “I’m looking for the son-of-a-bitch driving that piece-of-shit bike sitting outside.”

He met sullen silence. Slouching slowly across the sawdust covering the rickety floor, he eyed, in turn, each of the five men at length wondering. Was the creep who almost killed the woman I love, that toothless old grandpa slurping beer from a mug? Or was it the scrawny thirty-year-old with the dirty work boots?

Gradually, his eyes adjusted to the small room. He scanned the interior. Typical. Walls decorated with cheap, outdated neon beer signs and sleazy posters of big-breasted women perched suggestively on an assortment of bikes. To this assembly, Steven repeated, “I said, who owns that bike I just ran over?”

“I do,” yelled twenty-eight-year-old Heath Hopstetter. Coming out of his chair like a ground-to-air missile, he swung his beer bottle at Steven’s head.

Ducking, Steven returned the favor with a round-house punch to Heath’s big, soft and prominent stomach, knocking the wind out of the Pillsbury Dough Boy. Slowly, Heath sank to the filthy floor.

“Now, mister, we don’t want no trouble in here.” The worn-looking and plumb middle-aged barmaid said and held up her hands.

“This guy ain’t gonna be no trouble at all.” Steven jerked Heath to his feet and thumped him again. This time, his blow sent Heath into the antique jukebox, shattering glass. Nearby patrons grabbed their drinks and ducked.

Review: This anthology was wonderful. Each and every story was interesting and I read it in one day. Every story was different; the one thing they had in common was crime of one kind or another. I recommend this book, it was never boring.

Review: I would definitely say Flagitious is filled with suspense, intrigue and violent situations that will keep readers guessing until they turn the last page.

Good morning and HAPPY, HAPPY EASTER everyone. Welcome to my blog and the fifth day of the Fool For Books Giveaway Hop. Here at my Books and Paintings by JoAnne Blog, you will find my books and canvas art, for all your reading and home decor' needs. Today I will be posting about my crime/mystery anthology, "Flagitious". As always, I will be awarding one book per day of this hop, so please do comment. Have fun, eat a lot of ham, and please browse around my website before moving on.

The Scene: Detective Nick Difozzio has been called to another bizarre murder scene, located in the abandoned industrial section of town.

An abrupt silence you could cut with a knife filled the room. “Shape-shifters?” said one from the group. “You mean like a Yeti turns into a deer to avoid those who track it. Or the Lock Ness monster turns into a log.”

After Ted and the others poked fun at his fantastic idea, Nick laid it out, “Not exactly. But certain creatures are believed to have shape-shifting powers of one sort or another, and what other possibility is there to explain these bizarre murders?”

“Well, we could have a psychopath lurkin’ around. Or a nutty drifter or escaped convict,” Ted said. “But it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to understand that, if shape-shifters do exit, they would be very elusive creatures, nearly impossible to detect and capture. What does take a lot of imagination, is believing in shape-shifters.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll see ya tomorrow,” Nick said. Once outside, he noticed the full moon, and wondered, who will die tonight? On reaching his vehicle, he discovered a surprise in his passenger seat.

With teeth white as snow, she said, “Well, sugar, I was thinkin’ about the last time you were at my house. You remember, when you cabbaged my safe contents so foolishly?”

With a chuckle, he nodded. “Honey, the only foolish thing I did that night was fail to realize the money in the safe was counterfeit. But I bet it’s all gone now.”

“And I bet you’re right,” she smiled. Just then, Denise’ partner in crime, twenty-two-year-old Wendy Goss zapped the lawman with a stun gun from behind, dropping him like a hot potato.

Jumping from the vehicle, Denise removed Nick’s gun and cell phone, placing them under the seat. Afterward, both women placed him in the backseat. Getting behind the steering wheel of Nick’s car, Denise drove his Mustang, while Wendy followed in her Firebird.

Halfway to the destination spot, Nick regained consciousness. With his gun gone, he played dead, hoping to find the gang’s hangout. Soon both vehicles stopped. Denise exited the Ford then helped Wendy search the Firebird’s trunk, for items needed for Nick’s demise.

“Don’t worry, that pig’s out cold,” Denise said, finding rope. Peering out the back window, Nick realized he was on an abandoned farm. Searching for landmarks, he memorized a foreclosure sign reading Stonewall Realty.

Uncertain if the girls were armed, Nick made the decision to strike now or never. Disabling his car’s dome light, he cautiously retreated from the backseat. As quiet as a mouse, he snuck up on the chattering women foraging for items to gag and bind him.

As soon as the murdering beauties were finished gathering their supplies, Denise slammed the trunk shut. Immediately Nick punched her between her baby blues, knocking her to the ground before turning on Wendy.

Struggling with the yellow-haired lady, who, like her partner, was trained in Judo, Nick swapped blows with the tall slender gal and encountered a high degree of skill. Then, recovering, Denise attacked him from behind with a blow to his ribs, bringing him to his knees. Both women struck like tigers from all sides.

Doing his best to avoid their most deadly kicks, Nick used every device not nailed down as a weapon against the feisty felines. First, his leather belt with the sterling silver buckle, then, a stray piece of firewood left behind by the homeowners. Across the parking area, the trio fought. Nick matched his street skills against the trained martial artists as each one fought for their own reasons.

The gallant cop battled for his life and self-respect, while the women fought for control over the detective representing the authority they loathed. Or perhaps, Denise and Wendy’s desire for domination extended to include the entire county, not just the town, thought Nick. Whatever the reason, they’re formidable.

Bruised and bleeding, the women fought until Nick broke Wendy’s arm. Seizing the opportunity to get away, she escaped in her vehicle leaving her comrade helpless and easily overpowered.

“Get off me, you bastard!” Denise screamed as Nick slammed her to the ground, cuffing her.

“You’re under arrest.” Wiping the blood from his lip, he threw her into his vehicle then drove to the local hospital. On the way there, Nick phoned headquarters, “I got one of the blood members. We’re on our way to the ER.”

JoAnne has been a long-time resident of southeastern Ohio, and worked in the blue-collar industry most of her life. Besides having seven novels under her belt, JoAnne canvas paints. When not busy with hobbies or working outside the home, JoAnne spends time with relatives, and volunteers her time within the community. JoAnne is a member of the International Women’s Writing Guild, Savvy Authors, Coffee Time Romance, Paranormal Romance Guild, True Romance Studios, National Writers Association, the Hocking Hill's Arts and Craftsmen Association, The Hocking County Historical Society and Museum, and the Hocking Hills Regional Welcome Center. JoAnne believes in family values and following your dreams. Her original canvas paintings, can be found at: http://www.booksandpaintingsbyjoanne.com

Review: This anthology was wonderful. Each and every story was interesting and I read it in one day. Every story was different; the one thing they had in common was crime of one kind or another. I recommend this book, it was never boring.

Review: I would definitely say Flagitious is filled with suspense, intrigue and violent situations that will keep readers guessing until they turn the last page.

Good afternoon wonderful people. Welcome to my blog and the fourth day of the Fool For Books Giveaway Hop. Here at my Books and Paintings by JoAnne Blog, you will find my books and canvas art. Here you will find all your reading and home decor' needs. Today I will be posting about my detective/mystery, "Murder Most Foul". As always, I will be awarding one book per day of this hop, so please do comment. Have fun and please browse around my website before moving on.

Author News: Murder Most Foul is being transformed into a screenplay so that I may offer it to production companies for a film project. Wish me luck.

Blurb: When two dismembered torsos wash up on the banks of the local river in the small industrial town of Pleasant Valley, residents are horrified. Between contradicting statements, police ineptitude, lust, lies, manipulation, incest, the motorcycle gang The Devil’s Disciples, crooked cops, and a botched crime scene, everyone becomes a suspect.

The young beautiful Jackie Reeves, a registered nurse, believes the killer is a man from her past. She contacts the dangerously handsome FBI Agent Walker Harmon. An arrest is made, but Harmon and Jackie believe an innocent man is being railroaded by local cops. How far will these lover’s go to solve this heinous crime before anymore killings. Determined to find the truth, Agent Harmon and Jackie are forced to run a gauntlet of deep trouble and turmoil, which marks them for death.

Excerpt: Harmon, getting deeper into the local act, contacted Deputy Michael Downs, who found the victim's limbs. Years earlier, Downs had busted Terry for growing marijuana. Evicted by his landlord, Terry lived in his vehicle as he did at the animal zoo. Downs enhanced his undercover appearance by dressing as a hobo. Rummaging trashcans for scraps, he gave a convincing performance.

At midnight, the two professionals met in an abandoned cemetery, southeast of Pleasant Valley. Here, once an area of brick manufacturers, they were surrounded by distinctive buildings, made of a tan, “decorative and functional” brick that professors from Ohio University dubbed “sewer-pipe-Gothic.”

Harmon turned onto the narrow graveled, uphill road, reached the top and exited his vehicle. Surveying the area, he soon spotted the iron fence surrounding the grave of “Victoria,” a wild, black-haired young woman accused of witchcraft in 1798. Legend said she was bound and gagged by the villagers, tied to a wooden chair, and repeatedly dunked. Failing to drown, they labeled her “a witch,” doused her with whale oil, then burned her alive.

Waiting, Harmon soon saw headlights. “Thanks for meeting me, Deputy,” Harmon said, shaking hands.

“My assignment was to recover evidence from the crime scene and locate witnesses,” Downs explained, adjusting his wig.

“Yes! A teenager named Chuck Bloom agreed to meet me at the cornfield to point out the location where he saw two individuals–matchin' the descriptions of Lorena and Shaun–havin' sex. When Malloy and Thomas learned of Bloom, they beat me to the cornfield and sent him home. I was really angry about their cancelin' an appointment with a potential witness, and I told ‘em so. They have interfered with the James's case from the start. Each time the investigation leads away from James, Thomas and Malloy cut it off and freeze out any theory provin' Vernon James innocent.”

“Do you think Thomas and Malloy are railroading Vernon James?” Harmon asked.

“Absolutely! And Chuck Bloom's statement should be pursued in depth since he described the couple in detail. The girl had sandy- blonde hair and the boy was a light-skinned black. Also, he drew a map showin' the site in the cornfield where these two people were having sex. Also, Bloom wrote the statement himself. He did not recite it to an officer.”

Author News: Murder Most Foul is being transformed into a screenplay so that I may offer it to production companies for a film project. Wish me luck.

Setting: Agent Harmon is conversing with the coroner who preformed the autopsies.

Excerpt: “Both had large crosses cut into their torsos and three small wounds between the cross's angles. The body of the male was very hacked up, even mutilated, in a sloppy, unprofessional manner. But the female was dismembered with the skill of a surgeon.”

“It's difficult to tell. If one man committed both murders, it was during a great rage...it must be someone with something very personal against one, or both of the victims.”

“Some believe the victims were killed and dismembered at the home of Vernon James, but I believe everything took place in the cornfield, based on the gunshots heard by several citizens.”

“Due to the recent rains, the small amount of blood found at the scene, and the torsos' deteriorated condition after being immersed in the river for several days, there's no way I can say where the victims were killed and dismembered.”

Reaching his vehicle, Harmon found several bloody strands of hair stuck to his windshield. He called the sheriff. Sheriff Brown came rapidly, with another officer. Inserting a fresh stick of gum into his big mouth, the sheriff instructed his man to remove the gore from the vehicle, then, frowning, asked, “Ain't you out of your jurisdiction, Special Agent Harmon?”

“Not at all. Not after what has happened. But I thought it better if I didn't announce my arrival ahead of time.” Grinning, Harmon added, “Have you seen your cousin, Terry Jenkins, lately?”

Caught off-guard by Harmon's knowledge that Terry and he were related, Brown said, “I ain't Terry's keeper, and there's no evidence linkin' him to the murders or this practical joke.”

“Practical joke?” The sheriff's stupid remark angered Harmon. “I suppose you call a car-bombing and a human tongue practical jokes as well! I'll bet any money that hair matches the dead girl's, and when I solve this case, I'm the only one who's going to be laughing.” Jumping into his car, Harmon drove to the nearest carwash.

Good morning friends, welcome to my blog and the fourth day of the Fool For Books Giveaway Hop. Here at my Books and Paintings by JoAnne Blog, you will find my books and canvas art. Here you will find all your reading and home decor' needs. Today I will be posting about my detective/mystery, "Murder Most Foul". As always, I will be awarding one book per day of this hop, so please do comment. Have fun and please browse around my website before moving on.

Author News: Murder Most Foul is being transformed into a screenplay so that I may offer it to production companies for a film project. Wish me luck.

Blurb: When two dismembered torsos wash up on the banks of the local river in the small industrial town of Pleasant Valley, residents are horrified. Between contradicting statements, police ineptitude, lust, lies, manipulation, incest, the motorcycle gang The Devil’s Disciples, crooked cops, and a botched crime scene, everyone becomes a suspect.

Excerpt: Terry Jenkins's employers at the animal park and petting zoo, believed he fit the shoes of the killer, and grew leery. Intentionally intoxicating him at their home, Jane and Dan Frey directed the conversation around to what, if anything, Terry knew about the homicides.

“Oh, yeah, I knew Lorena James,” Terry bragged, drunkenly. “I met her at the Fall Festival. Her and Shaun Weland got whacked with a .22 in the cornfield near the burger place.”

Alarmed by Terry's knowledge of unpublished facts, the middle-aged couple immediately conveyed their fears to Agent Walker Harmon, who assured them he had other alerts too and would arrive soon.

The next day, Harmon drove directly to Jane’s home, locating her and Terry feeding the animals. The two of them strolled along with Terry, while Harmon questioned him about his relationship with the victims.

Terry chose his words carefully, but lied, “No, I didn't know the dead girl until I saw her picture in the paper.”

“Now, Terry, I know you and Lorena James had a tryst. Did you ever take Lorena into the cornfield for some hanky panky?”

“No, sir! I only know Lorena's daddy, Vernon James. We sometimes fish together, but I barely knew Lorena. Heard she got around a lot though,” he said, head down, tossing food in a trough.

Review: The author recreates the scenes with dramatic fashion, adding characters that are so realistic; it feels like you're living the moment right along with them. She is a wonderful storyteller, paying attention to every intricate detail and leaving you hanging onto every word. If you're a fan of crime thrillers, this book will definitely not disappoint!

Review: What can I say about this book? I absolutely loved it. It is one of those books that when you start it is very hard to put down. Everything is very descriptive and exciting it will always keep your interest peaked for more. Maybe the only way it could be better for me is reading it aloud to others around a campfire. It is a wonderfull read. Well done JoAnne Myers, well done.

3. Goodreads author Emily Capeles gives "Murder Most Foul" 4 **** on June 2013

Good morning friends, welcome to the third day of the Fool For Books Giveaway Hop. This is my Books and Paintings by JoAnne Blog, where I showcase my books and canvas art. Here you will find all your reading and home decor' needs. I am a cross genre author of 7 awesome books. I am pleased to be a part of this great and worthwhile hop. Today I will be posting about my paranormal anthology, "Wicked Intentions". As always, I will be awarding one book per day of this hop, so please do comment. Have fun and please browse around my website before moving on.

Blurb: When young newlyweds Bill and Gayle move into their new apartment, their lives are plagued with sightings of evil ghosts that threaten their marriage and lives.

Excerpt: Gayle could not concentrate on her studies the entire day. She skipped her last two classes and spent the remainder of the afternoon in the park. The store owner’s peculiar and hostile behavior toward her from the previous day stayed with her. What did the woman mean when she said no one lives in that apartment for long? Did the previous tenants experience strange unexplained occurrences also? Gayle believed something about the apartment was making her and Bill temperamental. But that was impossible. Or was it? Strange footsteps when no one was around. Laughter that seemed to come from the walls. Objects getting mislaid then popping up in bizarre places. Windows that wouldn’t open. She made up her mind to discuss her feelings with Bill that night.

Bill was also having a hard time within the apartment. While trying to enjoy his day off, he sat under the reading light with the newest Keens novel. Suddenly he felt the temperature in the room drop so dramatically that he saw his breath. He laid down the book and walked to the nearby thermostat. “The AC is where it should be,” he said just before the sound of sobbing echoed faintly near him. He whirled around, believing someone was present. He looked at the front door, but it was locked from the inside. Then the sobbing resumed. “Who’s in here?” he called out while reaching for a bronze stature that sat on an end table. Protection if need be. Clutching the object tightly, he proceeded down the hall, which was also eerily cold like the front room. “Hello, is someone here?”

Blurb: When Carrie Reynold’s starts having nightmares on her twenty-sixth birthday, she believes her “dark visions” can solve the twenty year disappearance of her father.

Excerpt: Waking from a nightmare was not the ideal beginning for twenty-six-year-old Carrie Reynolds’ birthday. At least, it was not what she had hoped for. “What the hell was that all about?” she asked herself as she climbed out of her sleigh-like bed. She ambled to her vanity and examined her peaches-and-cream complexion in the tall mirror. “I look like a raccoon or hung-over from a drunken binge,” she whispered, concerned about the dark rings around her blood shot eyes. She quit primping to enter her adjoining bathroom and begin her morning ablutions, ending with a long, invigorating shower. Twenty minutes later, she was drying off when the telephone rang.

“Hello,” she answered cautiously, her voice barely rejuvenated by the hot water.

“It was about people yelling at each other, I think…and a loud noise—I think it was some kind of an explosion—then I woke up.”

“But you had Italian food and wine for dinner. Spicy food and alcohol…”

“No, Mom, that wasn’t it. It was nothing, I guess…but it seemed so real.” Carrie shook off the bizarre incident to ask, “So…who’ll be coming to my surprise party tonight?”

Blurb: After the mysterious disappearance of twenty-six year old wife and mother Lisa Smalley, her twin, Audra Roper, begins having dark and disturbing visions of Lisa’s disappearance. Trying to survive while looking for Lisa, Audra’s life becomes a roller coaster of risks, heartbreak, and intrigue.

Excerpt: Audra floored her car in an attempt to outrun the other vehicle, but could not escape the devil car ramming her. Around the narrow and winding road they raced. Audra drove at break neck speed, terrified she would be forced through the railing and over the embankment. She knew the road well, unlike drivers unfamiliar to the vicinity who suffered terrifying deaths. Their broken and decayed bodies went undiscovered for weeks. She prayed not to join them tonight. “Please God, help me. Please, someone.” Suddenly Lisa’s image appeared in the middle of the road. “Lisa!” screamed Audra, swerving to avoid hitting the figure. Her bushwhacker was less fortunate, losing control before rolling down the embankment. Audra screeched to a stop and jumped from her car, racing back to the spot where she saw her sister. “Lisa! Where are you?” she shouted, searching the darkness. With only a few stars for light Audra was devastated when she was unable to locate Lisa. “Please, Lisa,” she called out. “Don’t do this. Please come out…come home. We all love and miss you.” Getting no response, she reluctantly returned to her car and using her cell phone notified police of the incident. They responded within minutes, and after filing a report, she returned home.

After the mysterious disappearance of twenty-six year old wife and mother Lisa Smalley, her twin, Audra Roper, begins having dark and disturbing visions of Lisa’s disappearance. Trying to survive while looking for Lisa, Audra’s life becomes a roller coaster of risks, heartbreak, and intrigue.

Even as a child, Barb Marie saw dead people. This took an unhealthy toil on her throughout her childhood and young adulthood.

When twenty-nine year old Ginger discovers the old mansion Summer Wind, she is mysteriously drawn to it. . Immediately, the haunting’s have a negative and profound effect on the family.

Solving the brutal murder of American born Ruthie Geil becomes a gauntlet of attacks and more murders for Federal Police Inspector Ian Christian. Between the victims family, ex-lovers, and ghostly occurrences on Norfolk Island, the killer is closer than anyone realizes.

For the young psychic Cassandra Lopez, coming to the infamous and haunted mansion Lake Manor, was more like a mission.

When young newlyweds Bill and Gayle move into their new apartment, their lives are plagued with sightings of evil ghosts that threaten their marriage and lives.

When Carrie Reynold’s starts having nightmares on her twenty-sixth birthday, she believes her “dark visions” can solve the twenty year disappearance of her father.

Carrie examined the meds. “Mom, these are really strong. Should you be mixing them with your heart medication?” Carrie pushed them back toward her mother, reluctant to consume any un-prescribed medication. But her mother refused to take them back.

“I won’t.” Carrie waved and walked on toward her home. After settling Mitzi down for the night, she enjoyed a hot aromatic bath, then sank into her queen-sized bed hoping for peaceful and undisturbed slumber. The pills her mother had given her sat on her bedroom night stand. As she lay in bed, she contemplated taking them. Perhaps her nightmare was a fluke and would never happen again. She decided against the sleeping aids and turned off the light.

Three hours later, she bolted upright, covered in sweat. The same frightening and unclear nightmare had returned…in spades. She immediately called Mark, “I’m sorry to wake you, but…”

A few minutes later she met him at the door. “Thanks for coming over at this hour.”

“Let’s sit.” They moved to the couch. Over a glass of wine, Mark probed into Carrie’s subconscious. He ended up saying, “There’s got to be more to these nightmares than insomnia or eating something that disagreed with you.”

“What makes no sense to me is that I’ve never had a bad dream until I turned twenty-six.”

Mark thought about her statement. “Maybe there’s a connection—your age.”

“At your party, one of your relatives told me your father disappeared when he was twenty-six years old.”

Carrie remained momentarily silent. “That’s right! My father deserted me and Mother on his twenty-sixth birthday. It’s been so long I’d forgotten much of what she told me.” She buried her face in her hands. “This is too creepy. What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know, but I know someone who may be able to answer our questions. Have you ever been hypnotized?”

“There’ve been many major breakthroughs in hypnotic sessions designed to restore one’s memory.”

“I’m religious. My mother is religious. Our church does not approve of anything artificial or connected to psychics or voodoo or…”

“Hypnotism is not black magic. It’s very much the opposite. It’s approved by the medics.”

Carrie was confused. “But what will people think if they find out I went to a shrink?” She paced the floor on the verge of tears.

He took her trembling hands in his. “No one need ever find out. These sessions are completely confidential. The doctor will even come here if you like.”

“Yes. I really believe this procedure will help bring your dark visions into the light.”

Mark’s gentle touch and comforting words convinced Carrie she would be right in talking to a counselor. She agreed to seek professional help.

“You won’t regret your decision,” he said, and kissed her with his full-blown passion, showing the depth and breadth of his caring. “I know exactly what you need right now.” Carrying her into the bedroom they tore at each other’s clothes until they melted as one onto her mattress and became true lovers.

REVIEW: This was a very interesting collection of short stories and all had a touch of the paranormal. Overall, this is a book well worth reading.

Review: Good ghoulish bedtime stories. Wicked Intentions is a collection of short mysterious tales about love gone wrong and restless souls of the spirit world trespassing in the land of the living. Interesting stories to keep you up at night reading.

JoAnne has been a long-time resident of southeastern Ohio, and worked in the blue-collar industry most of her life. Besides having several novels under her belt, JoAnne canvas paints. When not busy with hobbies or working outside the home, JoAnne spends time with relatives, and volunteers her time within the community. JoAnne is a member of the International Women’s Writing Guild, Savvy Authors, Coffee Time Romance, Paranormal Romance Guild, True Romance Studios, National Writers Association, the Hocking Hill's Arts and Craftsmen Association, The Hocking County Historical Society and Museum, and the Hocking Hills Regional Welcome Center. JoAnne believes in family values and following your dreams. JoAnne’s original canvas paintings, can be found at: http://www.booksandpaintingsbyjoanne.com

Hello all and welcome to the second day of the Fool For Books Giveaway Hop. This is my Books and Paintings by JoAnne Blog, where I showcase my books and canvas art. Here you will find all your reading and home decor' needs. I am a cross genre author of 7 awesome books. I am pleased to be a part of this great and worthwhile hop. Today I will be posting about my biography true crime "The Crime of the Century". This is the true account of a 1982 double homicide that occured in my hometown of Logan, Ohio. This case made national news, terrified a small town, destroyed two families, and took nearly 30 years to solve. It is a riviting account of a town filled with fear and hatred and of one man's perserverence to save himself from deathrow. I will be awarding one book per day of this hop, so please do comment. Have fun and please browse around my website before moving on.

Blurb: The residents of Rolling Hills, a hamlet in southeastern Ohio, were horrified when the dismembered bodies of two missing teens were pulled from the local river. Multiply suspects surfaced, but only one was railroaded, Richard Allan Lloyd, a known nudist and hothead.

What began as an evening stroll turned into what found only in horror films, and dubbed ‘the crime of the century’. 18 year old Babette, a voluptuous beauty contestant and horsewoman, and her 19 year old boyfriend Shane Shoemaker, a jealous and possessive unemployed printer, were last seen crossing a trestle bridge. Within fourteen days, their mutilated torsos and severed heads and limbs were unearthed, suggesting satanic cult activity.

With an investigation smeared with contradicting statements, and a botched crime scene, investigators built a flimsy case against Richard Lloyd. The three-week trial was based on police corruption and ineptitude, fairytale theories, and forensic mishandling.

This heinous crime shattered the sense of security for Rolling Hills, destroyed two families, and forever scarred the town. This story is a detailed account of finding justice for Babette and Shane, and of one man’s perseverance to gain his freedom from death row.

Excerpt #7: To the reported delight of the Lloyd family, but dismay to Det. Eli, the youngest “witness” came forward with astonishing news.

Seventeen-year-old Butch Jenkins, was a short, pudgy, brunette. He told Det. Eli he saw Shane and Babette engaged in sex in the cornfield on October 4. Jenkins said this incident occurred approximately at 4:45 p.m.

Jenkins claimed the boy was atop the girl, and the girl rubbed the boy’s back with her hands in an upward and downward motion. The boy had brownish black hair and hairy legs. The girl had brownish blond hair.

The statement was disputed by the boy’s mother. After checking with the high school, she verified Butch attended all his classes on October 4. Some officers believed Jenkins did see the kids, due to the fact that the Rolling Hills High School had a 3 o’clock dismissal.

When Sally Shoemaker learned of Jenkins’s alleged sighting of Babette and Shane, she contacted police. She claimed during the third week in August, Babette was a contestant in the Parade of the Hills Queen Contest.

She said, Babette bleached her light brown hair to a very light blond color at her home. By October 4, Babette’s hair was “bright blond with dark brown roots.”

The Masonville Autumn Festival, was an annual event held in August. It boasted the region’s best community cultural events. It consisted of six stages of entertainment, an art walk, carnival, children's park, and library junction.

Babette was granted the duty of being one of the flag holders for an upcoming harness race of 1982. As she sat upon her prized Appaloosa, Victory Sunshine, the horse went “berserk.” It took every ounce of Babette’s strength to stay mounted. Later that evening, it allegedly ran itself to death inside its paddock. Injection marks found by a Veterinarian, indicated foul play. The Lloyds’ chalked that cruelty up to competitor jealousy.

Excerpt #8: While some believed the investigation could not become more bizarre, it did with the newest press release by Sheriff Reynolds and Chief White. This meeting took place on the sidewalk in front of the Sheriff’s Office-downtown Rolling Hills.

Surrounded by curious citizens, deputies and city officers, Sheriff Reynolds, announced his plan of notifying a psychic. He explained the psychic was employed as an instructor at the FBI seminar in Virginia, who specialized in psychological profiles.

Chief White suggested the community form neighborhood watch programs. Suggesting the public be aware of one’s surroundings. Keeping doors and windows locked at all times, and not wandering out after dark.

When the sheriff’s psychic arrived, what she said “rocked” the investigation, leaving egg on the sheriff.

According to the pleasingly plump forty-three-year-old wife and mother Shirley Saunders, she had a nine-year association with law enforcement. Her “psychic abilities” were credited with solving many crimes. She concluded her meeting with investigators, by telling them, “Look for men wearing badges.” She kept seeing shiny badges, with images of more then one person committing the crimes. The perpetrators and the victims “knew one another,” describing one perpetrator as a “sizeable man” familiar with heavy labor.

She said, Sheriff Reynolds and Det. Eli refused to listen, telling her, “They had their man.”

The “rumored” sexual history between Babette and both Randy Shoemaker and Lt. Phillipes, made some investigators believe both “had motive and opportunity” for murdering the kids. Still the possibility of the killer being female kept the suspect list growing.

Some surmised that Randy did have an affair with Babette, pushing Sally over the edge, driving her to kill.

Other investigators felt Nancy was involved somehow. They cited her devotion to Richard. Her commitment to her marriage, and her refusal to stop the incest, as factors in the possibility of her being the killer.

The talk on the streets was, Nancy was consumed with jealousy knowing her husband lusted after her teenage daughter. Many voiced their opinions to the media, saying they believed Nancy, “secretly despised” Babette, and that was the reason she condoned the rapes.

Excerpt #9: Even after Ernie Brooks told Det. Eli, that Richard Lloyd was not the man he saw on the riverbank the early morning of October 5, Eli persisted in his investigation of Lloyd, looking for something to arrest him for.

Ernie Brooks and “Jane and Betty Doe,” were not the only people with “sketchy” recollections. Some investigators claimed many “witness statements held inconsistencies,” and “should rightfully been dismissed.”

Stories of Shane and Babette, continued to perk the attentions of the law. One resident’s “supposed” memory landed another resident behind bars.

Young environmental engineer, Paul Duncan, was dating Shane’s cousin Lola, when the two paid Sally and Randy Shoemaker, a visit. At the same time Lyle Sommers, and Carl Mueller, who agreed to come out of retirement to help with the case, arrived at Jack Jones’ home to interview him.

Randy, got the deputies attention, and after finding Jack not home, the officers interviewed Paul instead. He told the deputies, that he met Babette Lloyd after she began dating Shane.

He claimed when seeing Richard Lloyd’s photograph in the local paper, he recognized him as being the man who “cursed and forced Shane and Babette into an automobile.”

He explained to police that, he was stopped at the intersection of Short Street and Allegheny Avenue on October 4, between 5 and 6:30 p.m. He said he recognized Shane and Babette, walking hand in hand, on the opposite side of the Kroger parking lot.

He claimed seeing “an orange sporty-type vehicle” pull in front of the couple. Richard Lloyd jumped from the vehicle and yelled, “Get in this God damn car.” He saw Richard Lloyd “grab the girl by her shoulders and force” her into the car.

Paul’s statement hit the front page of The Rolling Hills Daily News, with a resounding “thump.” Reporters rallied public opinions of why Babette had to be forced into her stepfather’s car. Most cited the rape accusations.

According to Capt. Phillipes, when questioned about Paul’s accusation, Richard denied it entirely. He denied being in Rolling Hills on October 4, claiming only Nancy drove the Buick Skylark that day.

Deputy Carl Mueller, was one officer doubting Paul Duncan’s claims. According to the deputy, Paul Duncan told him, he remembered a blond-haired girl and a dark-haired man, but “did not recognize anyone.”

By November 3, different officers interviewed Paul Duncan three times. He told one officer the driver “was younger then Richard Lloyd.” Told another “the driver had dark hair and a mustache.” Told the third, the vehicle he saw was “a van or truck.”

When questioned about the discrepancies, Duncan told reporters he was warned by police “to not comment.” He did admit he received eight thousand dollars of the reward money Richard Lloyd put up, only days earlier.

Hello all and welcome to the second day of the Fool For Books Giveaway Hop. This is my Books and Paintings by JoAnne Blog, where I showcase my books and canvas art. Here you will find all your reading and home decor' needs. I am a cross genre author of 7 awesome books. I am pleased to be a part of this great and worthwhile hop. Today I will be posting about my biography true crime "The Crime of the Century". This is the true account of a 1982 double homicide that occured in my hometown of Logan, Ohio. This case made national news, terrified a small town, destroyed two families, and took nearly 30 years to solve. It is a riviting account of a town filled with fear and hatred and of one man's perserverence to save himself from deathrow. I will be awarding one book per day of this hop, so please do comment. Have fun and please browse around my website before moving on.

Blurb: The residents of Rolling Hills, a hamlet in southeastern Ohio, were horrified when the dismembered bodies of two missing teens were pulled from the local river. Multiply suspects surfaced, but only one was railroaded, Richard Allan Lloyd, a known nudist and hothead.

Excerpt: Rumors of the Lloyd and Shoemaker families’ blaming the other for the kids’ disappearance spread quickly. Neither set of parents, though, confronted the other verbally, yet!

The virtual searching for “a needle in a haystack,” commenced immediately after the removal of the torsos from the river. The sheriff’s office and Police Department, called in reinforcements-more than 100 officers.

The departments joined forces before separating and thoroughly scouring the large cornfield, in the hopes of locating the heads and limbs and any usable evidence.

By the afternoon of October 18, Sheriff Reynolds was called to the Wagon Wheel Bridge. There a volunteer search member located the discovery of a bloody white sock on the railroad tracks. The article contained what was later identified as “a penis sliced into pieces.”

The sheriff was then directed to a plastic feed sack-located between the entrance to the cornfield and the bridge at State-Route 664. The item was spotted with “red staining,” which later was identified as being blood.

Later that same day, another gruesome find was discovered at 5:50 p.m. At one-eighth of a mile into the cornfield, through “smashed down and blood stained cornstalks,” and only yards from the road, was discovered an area of ground that appeared to have been disturbed recently. Nearby officers reported finding two large desiccated blood spots.

Officers then searched that immediate area, finding the victims’ arms, legs, and heads. According to Sheriff Reynolds, the body parts were buried in shallow graves within a twenty-five square foot circular pattern, that reporters later referred to as "Satanic cult activities."

Local law enforcement was not the only ones consumed with solving the murders. The type of person capable of committing such an act weighed heavily on the mind of Detective Robert Leach prompting the veteran detective to contact his sister, concerning Keith Leonard.

According to Leach, he received an early copy of the psychological profile performed by an Ohio State University criminologist, and felt the profile “exactly matched” that of Keith Leonard.

Others pointed to Clyde Perkins and his friend, a thirty-year old career criminal known as the “Butcher,” as fitting the profile. William “Bill” Wickline was nicknamed the “Butcher,” not just because he, like Keith Leonard, was a trained butcher, relished knives and cutting up meat-but also because Bill actually admitted to others that he was a hired killer and severed his victims and disposed of their bodies in various locations. No body-no murder. Right! Some officers described Bill as “just a scary guy.” Again local authorities ignored Bill Wickline’s possible involvement.

The profile stated the perpetrator would prefer driving a truck, and be a hunter, fisherman, gun enthusiast, or camper. The perpetrator would possess a varied employment history, and show behavior changes after the murders. That person was probably sexually involved with the female victim. The person was careless and left something behind at the crime scene, and was either divorced or remarried. This profile basically fit Richard Lloyd, Keith Leonard, Bill Wickline, and Clyde Perkins. They were all “scary guys.”

Caleb James, was tall and muscular, and lived fifty miles away from Rolling Hills. He sided with Richard and agreed Sheriff Reynolds and his deputies were “as crooked as the Bottle Neck River.”

In a sworn affidavit conducted by attorney’s Bernstein and Muir, the ex-deputy, said while serving as Deputy Sheriff under the direction of Sheriff Sam Reynolds, he found the sheriff in violation of numerous dereliction of duty charges, including:

1. Drunkenness in office and leaving his post during shift for personal reasons.

5. Asking subordinates to aid in his political advancement- by way of requesting subordinates to survey and report back with information on certain attorneys and city council members.

6. Theft in office and tampering with evidence-by way of using evidence from one case in an unrelated case.

7. Neglecting office procedures to ensure community safety, by way of refusal to respond to stranded motorists.

According to Caleb James, Sheriff Reynolds made a prisoner a jail trustee. James claimed the sheriff placed the trustee at the dispatch desk, and in direct contact with the keys to the property room, gun locker, and jail.

James said this placement, allowed the trustee access to the law-enforcement computer, with all the files and records, of which the trustee utilized. Sergeant Barry Cline of the Ohio State Patrol had evidence of this use.

He claimed one deputy bought an unregistered .22 caliber pistol from a civilian. Lyle Sommers physically assaulted a juvenile prisoner, and Department Investigator Joseph Davidson planted evidence on a local civilian. Joseph Davidson was small, and slim, and possessed a sunken jaw line.

Attorneys’ Bernstein and Muir believed the jail trustee was Keith “Duke” Leonard. When questioned by the attorneys’, Sheriff Reynolds refused to discuss the matter, claiming that information was “confidential.” He also claimed Caleb James never resigned but “was fired when marijuana was found at his residence.” James said the drugs were planted.

I have been a long-time resident of southeastern Ohio, and worked in the blue-collar industry most of my life. Besides having several novels under my belt, I canvas paint.

When not busy with hobbies or working outside the home, I spend time with relatives, and volunteer my time within the community. I am a member of the International Women’s Writing Guild, Savvy Authors, Coffee Time Romance, Paranormal Romance Guild, True Romance Studios, National Writers Association, the Hocking Hill's Arts and Craftsmen Association, The Hocking County Historical Society and Museum, and the Hocking Hills Regional Welcome Center. I believe in family values and following your dreams. My original canvas paintings, can be found at: booksandpaintingsbyjoanne.com

Hello all and welcome to the second day of the Fool For Books Giveaway Hop. This is my Books and Paintings by JoAnne Blog, where I showcase my books and canvas art. Here you will find all your reading and home decor' needs. I am a cross genre author of 7 awesome books. I am pleased to be a part of this great and worthwhile hop. Today I will be posting about my biography true crime "The Crime of the Century". This is the true account of a 1982 double homicide that occured in my hometown of Logan, Ohio. This case made national news, terrified a small town, destroyed two families, and took nearly 30 years to solve. It is a riviting account of a town filled with fear and hatred and of one man's perserverence to save himself from deathrow. I will be awarding one book per day of this hop, so please do comment. Have fun and please browse around my website before moving on.

Excerpt: October 4, 1982, started out as an ordinary autumn evening, for this mined-out Appalachian region in southeastern Ohio. The sticky summer was gone. The ground was blanketed with gold and red leaves, and the last full moon before All Hallows’ Eve, was complete. A cosmic cycle said to stir passions in some, anger and rage in others.

“Beggars’ Night,” was just around the corner. Homes were elaborately decorated with Paper-Mache witches and goblins, as carved pumpkins of all sizes sat on porches and in yards, made even creepier with lit candles.

Yes, it would have been an average evening, if not for two unnerving events. First, the arrival of the notorious motorcycle gang, The Devil's Disciples. The group frequented The Home Tavern, a sordid bar on the corner of Gallagher and Motherwell.

According to police reports, having a thirst for alcohol, the bikers and their sweaty, leather-clad women produced numerous problems while in town. Calls from residents, concerning fistfights and disorderly conduct, flooded the police station. Locals reported spotting some members of the gang roaming the streets as the reports of vandalism kept the police busy.

Originally the Depot Hotel, The Home Tavern, sat directly across the street from a twenty-five acre “infamous” cornfield. A common place for knife-fights, pot parties, and hanky panky from all ages. Running through the cornfield was the murky and meandering Hocking River. On the edge of the cornfield, and going with the flow of the river, was the once well-traveled train track-a transportation device that accommodated the small town to far-off destinations until 1959, when city buses and taxi-cabs went into effect.

The second incident, involved sex, lies, lust, and murder as gunfire emanated from the opposite end of the cornfield. The pleasant conversation between mother and daughter abruptly ended as they looked toward the woods only a few hundred yards away. The sounds of shots echoing from the nearby cornfield was such a common sound that it caused them little concern.

“That’s just kids hunting rabbits,” said the young daughter, “They do it all the time.”

Somewhat farther away, a part-time security guard, Charles Bartow, heard the same shots as he locked up The Armo Steel Company, for the day. He clearly remembered the time, because it was his job to lock-up each evening.

All the robust tobacco chewer had on his mind, was the ice-cold brew with his name on it, waiting for him at The Home Tavern. He would later tell authorities that he heard a volley of three shots that seemed to come from a small caliber weapon-followed by four or five more.

What the trio, and others living nearby heard, was a series of grisly, mysterious, and baffling scenarios that horrified the nation and were dubbed “the crime of the century” for a small industrial town in Ohio.

Why those who heard the shots, remembered the facts so differently, stumped police, and angered townsfolk, making the lengthy investigation even harder to control and solve.

Excerpt: The next morning, Sandra woke with the belief her son was dead. She was now in a great panic. After checking in with Sandra, and realizing the kids had not returned or contacted her, Lt. Mowery took her written statement.

Sandra told the officer she rose at 7 a.m., on October 4, and noticed Annette waking up from the bedroom she shared with her daughter. She said Annette was preparing for classes at Tri-County Vocational School. Todd, she recalled, woke from his room and stayed home for the remainder of the morning after Annette left.

Chief Barron stayed within the city limits, checking area “hang outs” that Don had suggested. The officer reported finding no signs of the teens.

Lt. Mowery, armed with a new lead, drove to the nearby village of Nelsonville. First settled in 1814 by the Daniel Nelson family, the town was born from the coal industry and known as the “Little City of Black Diamonds.”

Once Lt. Mowery arrived at Tri-County, he discovered Annette had not attended any of her classes, after being reported missing.

What Instructor Dorothy Connors told the officer turned the investigation upside down and shed a new light on a seemingly non-alarming incident?

A petite redhead with green eyes, Dorothy was divorced with one grown daughter. She volunteered her free time at the local Pet Orphanage, a non-profit organization that placed abandoned or neglected dogs and cats within new homes.

She described Annette “a good student,” who at times had difficulties concentrating on her studies. Annette was determined to receive high grades, said Dorothy. She knew her smarts and her natural ability at mastering computer programming was her ticket out of Logan.

Todd on the other hand, seemed content in staying the “small-town” boy. His choir-boy manners was a hit with the ladies and especially with Sarah Johnson…in the beginning. Sarah would come to dislike Todd, as much as she disliked every boy Annette dated.

“I felt sorry for Annette and befriended her,” Dorothy told the officer.

Dorothy described three letters Annette sent her depicting sexual and mental abuse instigated by Dale Johnston. The letters talked of Annette wanting to run away, but she was afraid her stepfather would find her and punish her. Dale Johnston threatened each boyfriend Annette had, and forced Annette to accompany him, alone, on camping trips, where he regularly seduced her, then “rewarded her with money or new clothes.”

Annette wrote of Sarah being aware of the attacks, but refused to acknowledge them, or stop them, claiming Sarah cared only about her marriage. The allegations of sexual abuse would be debated at length. Some found the rumors empty, since Dale and Sarah had the reputation of being “energizer bunnies,” when it came to sex. Some felt why would Dale want other women, when Sarah was “ready and willing”? Others felt the rumors were true, automatically believing the young voluptuous Annette, due to her age, and being raised by the likes of Sarah and Dale.

According to Dorothy, she advised Annette to move out of her stepfather’s trailer, or report the attacks, but unfortunately, “My advice came too late,” she said.

Excerpt: When Jill Wolfrey saw Annette’s photograph in the local paper, she telephoned the Sheriff’s Office. She recalled to the dispatcher, how Kevin “Tex” Meyer brought a “slim, attractive, light-haired girl” to her home in early August, for a baby-sitter interview. She thought that peculiar, because “Kevin’s girlfriends were usually homely.”

She said she never hired the girl because the girl “seemed more interested” in the animals then being a sitter for her small children. When she told the girl she wanted “someone more mature,” Jill said the girl took it well, but “Kevin became very angry.”

According to Jill, Kevin began behaving belligerently with her and had even exposed himself to her while the two cleaned out a barn. She reported the incident to Dan, who made it clear to Kevin, that if his rude behavior toward Jill did not cease immediately, he would be fired. Jill reportedly had no further trouble with Kevin.

Mike Metzger knew about the “flashing” incident. According to Mike, Kevin became intoxicated later that same evening and said “Jill Wolfrey was a bitch and should be shot.” Kevin then threatened to go to Jill’s house and “shoot” her, but Mike and his friend Lavon calmed Kevin down.

When questioned by deputies, Kevin denied, “flashing” Jill Wolfrey. He said he was relieving himself as Mike Metzger acted as “look-out,” with Jill mistaking it for something else. Kevin claimed the incident was a “harmless misunderstanding.” Mike Metzger denied he acted as lookout.

I have been a long-time resident of southeastern Ohio, and worked in the blue-collar industry most of my life. Besides having several novels under my belt, I canvas paint.

Hello all and welcome to my Books and Paintings by JoAnne Blog. This is a place where I showcase my books and canvas art. Here you will find all your reading and home decor' needs. I am a cross genre author of 7 awesome books. I am pleased to be a part of this great and worthwhile hop. Today I will be posting about my fantasy anthology, "Loves, Myths, and Monsters". I will be awarding one book per day of this hop, so please do comment. Have fun and please browse around my website before moving on.

Blurb: Incarcerated in the abandoned Roseville jail, is the last thing rich college student and speeder Brice Conrad, needs. With an “agreement” between the town and a permanent demonic “guest”, only the unfortunate ones know the truth, but do not live to tell.

Excerpt: Morning came and not too soon as the sheriff entered with a fresh tray of food and a priest, 60-year old Father Randolph. Noticing the tray of uneaten food from the previous night, the sheriff asked, “Are you on a diet, son? We’re known for having the best fed prisoners in the county.”

“Brice, I’ve come to answer any questions you might have about our Lord,” the priest said. “Any confessions…or last rights?”

“Last rights! I ain’t dying and I ain’t talking to no one except my father’s attorney,” Brice said, munching on a slice of buttered toast. “The longer you deny me my constitutional rights, the more trouble this county is gonna have.”

“Now, son, we all wanna make this as easy as possible,” said the priest.

“Make what as easy as possible?” Brice said wolfing down scrambled eggs. “And I noticed my cell mate is gone. So if you can let him go, you can let me go, too.”

“Well, Mr. Nomed, ain’t really a prisoner. He’s more like a house quest,” the sheriff said. “He’ll be here tonight.”

“God works in strange ways,” the priest said making the sign of the cross and departing as the sheriff followed.

Excerpt: The men tended the horses while Ma went into the house and prepared for her daughter’s guests. Shelly took a well-needed bath at the creek. On the way back to the house, she picked a hatful of wild nuts. She found her family sitting outside.

“Seth’s weddin’ is in two weeks,” Garner announced, downing a glass of milk. “What are you gonna give the bride and groom as a gift, Shelly?” He laughed as his sister’s eyes turned into slits, and one side of her upper lip curled upward, obviously resenting the engaged couple.

She danced around the yard playfully and said, “A box of poisoned cookies.” They all laughed at the spirited girl’s ingenious idea.

“We should give Cathy a surprise weddin’ shower, too,” Ma said, puffing away. “But we gotta find a way to get her fat momma out of the way.”

Finally, Garner had a plan: “Let’s send the old cow a bouquet of flowers with a anonymous love letter.”

Pa proudly patted his boy on the back. “Son, you’re a chip off the old block.

Blurb: When 32-year-old Vinton County Sheriff, James "Jim" Connors, discovers he has a Mothman hunting in his county, he stops at nothing to save his citizens.

Quietly, Jim led the way into the large, damp, dark opening with Page watching their rear. The smell of ammonia issued strongly from the tunnel.

Using his night vision goggles, Jim saw a huge, black Mothman silhouetted against the far back wall. “It’s completely wrapped inside its wings,” Jim whispered.

Slowly they advanced toward the creature, hugging the side walls. “Ah! It’s sitting on its eggs. This may be our sole chance to prove the Mothman exists,” Page said. “Please let me keep one of the eggs.”

“Listen, Jim,” she whispered. “I know a man who will pay a mighty high price for a live specimen. We can share the money since my team’s dead.”

Jim stopped and stared at the woman he had already fallen in love with, then asked, “You’re not really a scientist, are you?”

“The others and I were more fortune hunters than true cryptozoologists.”

“Shut up, Jim, you’ll wake-up the Mothman,” she said, aiming her dart gun at his face. “Now drop your weapons.”

He reluctantly obeyed. “You played me, just so I’d bring ya along, didn’t you?”

I have been a long-time resident of southeastern Ohio, and worked in the blue-collar industry most of my life. Besides having several novels under my belt, I canvas paint. When not busy with hobbies or working outside the home, I spend time with relatives, and volunteer within the community. I am a member of the International Women’s Writing Guild, Savvy Authors, Coffee Time Romance, Paranormal Romance Guild, True Romance Studios, National Writers Association, the Hocking Hill's Arts and Craftsmen Association, The Hocking County Historical Society and Museum, and the Hocking Hills Regional Welcome Center. I believe in family values and following your dreams. My unique and beautiful signed and framed canvas paintings can be found at this website.

Today I'm sharing an excerpt from a short story, "The Bidding", one tale from my fantasy anthology, "Loves, Myths, and Monsters."

Blurb: Apiologist 34-year-old Duncan McPherson goes to Circleville, Ohio, to investigate a series of mysterious bee attacks. What is uncovered proves to be more dark and sinister then anyone imaged.

Excerpt: When news of the bizarre attacks reached the ears of thirty-eight-year-old Apiologist, Doctor Duncan McPherson, the entire bedroom community of Circleville, Ohio, went on edge. Upon exiting his State van at the latest site, the muscular black-haired bachelor was bombarded by reporters. “Were the attacks committed by African killer bees?” a pudgy bald reporter asked.

“Does this attack have anything to do with the deceased people?” another reporter asked.

Duncan ignored the question, making his way into the sheriff’s office and startling the lady sheriff.

“Why, hello!” The thirty-year-old, tall, vivacious strawberry blond from a long line of law enforcement officers smiled a greeting. “Can I help ya? I’m Sheriff Jennifer Poole.”

“I hope we can help each other,” he replied. “I’m Duncan McPherson. You called me last week about some bee problems.” He offered a tanned and calloused hand, which Jennifer accepted.

“Now, how did those reporters know you wuz comin’ today?” she asked, glaring at her young deputy.

As if caught swiping watermelons, the younger officer said, “Ya know my sister works for the local newspaper.”

Pointing her index finger with a short, uneven and unpolished nail toward the front door, Jennifer ordered, “You clear the yard of those stringers right now, if ya want that promotion.”

Today I'm sharing an excerpt from a short story, “The Legend of Lake Manor", one tale from my paranormal anthology, “Wicked Intentions”.

Chills again caressed Cassandra’s spine. “Roger needs help,” she said,

“It’s stuck!” she exclaimed. “It’s never done that before. It’s as if someone

“Don’t be ridiculous. Here, let me try.” Kenny took over, and at the same

“They’re here! Can’t you see ‘em? They’re here!” he yelled, his words

tumbling over each other in his fright. “They’re all around. Can’t you feel

Calmly, she said, “Yes, I do, but they can’t hurt you while I’m here. I

Hello all, thank you for joining me again for my weekly author guest spotlight. This week I have Tara Mayoros, with her new hot and steamy release, "Broken Smiles". She is here for some personal questions and answers. Please make her feel welcome and dont forget to comment. Thank you.

What was the initial kernel of an idea that got you started writing Broken Smiles? It was something that would not leave my dreams or every waking thought.

Do you have any personal links to or memories of the place(s) where your book is set? Yes, most everything about this book is personal. I lived in China and love the culture. It was my way of revisiting memories and places I've been.

What is your heroine Laidan’s most admirable quality? I think Laidan is strong as she doesn't bend her identity during times of fame or sorrow.

And your hero Rafe’s? Rafe's most admirable quality is his desire to serve. Out of all of my characters, I strive to be the most like him.

Have you started your next book yet, and if so, can you tell us a little about it? I have a Christmas novella coming out next month called Eight Birds of Christmas. I have taken a scene from Broken Smiles and expanded it into a short heartwarming Christmas story.

I am also working on a YA fantasy trilogy called Vagabond. I am very excited for this trilogy. It is much darker and fantastical than Broken Smiles. But it has been so much fun to write.

Where do you do your writing? Mostly on a comfortable couch or my bed. Sometimes I take to the mountains and write on a hillside with a beautiful view.

If you could have your dream space to write, where or what would it be? On a cloud that molds to whichever position I choose to be in. Then I could watch the world below and find inspiration. That would be cool.

This is an old question, I know, but I always find it so telling … If you were stuck on a desert island … Your top 3 movies? (and why) Lord of the Rings, The Notebook, Return to Me

Your top 3 books? (and why) - Hard one! All of Juliette Marillier's books, Edenbrooke by Julianne Donaldson, all of Eva Ibbotson. Too many to choose!

Top 3 albums? (and why) Joshua Tree by U2, other favorite musicians (but it changes all the time) Florence and the Machine, Brandi Carlisle, Amy MacDonald, Imagine Dragons, too many to choose!

As a child, Tara Mayoros moved to Asia with her family where her love of different cultures and travel began. In college she satisfied her wanderlust by moving to China, filling her head with countless stories, and occasionally writing them down.

Years, marriage, children and many adventures later, she picked up her dusty pen and paper (or laptop) and realized that writing took her to different worlds and gave her the experiences that she yearned for. As an author, artist, baker, music teacher, gardener, and nature lover – she sees the beauty in the process, and the miracle, of creation. The Rocky Mountains are her home and they call to her whenever she finds herself in need of inspiration.

In the novel BROKEN SMILES, Laidan Swanson rises from ashes of sorrow to the top of the music billboard charts, only to find that her desire for fame is overshadowed by her desire to serve. She escapes her identity and flees to find the humanitarian doctor and the Chinese children depicted in a brochure that she came across in a hospital lobby.

While performing at the Grammys, the pressure from the music industry becomes too much for Laidan. She is quickly carried off the stage, leaving the world audience stunned and amazed by her emotional performance. Accompanying her are a trusted bodyguard and a close childhood friend. Together they make for the jungles of China where she meets Doctor Rafe Watkins, a humanitarian doctor who has reasons of his own for why he has chosen to live deep within the bamboo forests. The handsome doctor is building an orphanage and runs a clinic that fixes children’s broken smiles or cleft palets. Watching him perform his many acts of kind service, Laidan’s “broken smile” is also healing and she begins to fall deeply in love with him. She has finally found a place where she belongs. One problem – because of Rafe’s intentional seclusion from society for the past seven years, he does not know Laidan’s true identity. What will he do when he finds out? Can love conquer all, or is Laidan’s rock star fame too big for his quiet life?

***"Starting out, I came here to help children with cleft palates. It’s overwhelming for me to see how much more needs to be done. No matter how many patients I help or how many lives I change, it’s a drop in the bucket.”

***He brought his hand to her cheek and cradled it for a moment while his eyes looked down at her lips. Then he smoothed her lips slowly with the pad of his thumb.

***Laidan thought about the differences between their fame. Her fame was about money and greed. His fame with these children was about love and service.

Hello all, have you written about the Chupacabra yet? I have and it was a lot of fun, researching this elusive and dangerous creature. This beast is the focus in my short story "Welcome to Anna." Once fantasy tale in my anthology, "Loves, Myths, and Monsters." Please do leave comments. Thank you.

The chupacabra, meaning "goat-sucker" is a legendary cryptic rumored to inhabit the Caribbean (chiefly Puerto Rico), Central and South America, North America (chiefly Mexico and southern United States). The name comes from the animal's reported habit of attacking and drinking the blood of livestock especially goats, while leaving strange puncture marks in the animals neck.

How the chupacabra come about is also made of countless myths and legends. In my fantasy anthology, “Loves, Myths, and Monsters,” one tale entitled “Welcome to Anna,” describes the creature originating from South America thousands of years ago. There was a jungle god, who killed a female coyote when she attacked him. Afterward, the jungle god realized she had a puppy. Since he had no wife, he cast a spell over the puppy transforming it into a human mate.

Over time the wife gave the jungle god three sons, but when they became men they also wanted wives, because their mother was the only woman at that time. The jungle god said to the three brothers, ‘The one of you who designs the perfect woman will be made Chief and given a wife. He will become the producer of mankind.”

So the oldest brother, named Lujuree, molded a woman from clay, but when it began to rain and the clay washed away. Then the middle brother, called Kujuli, molded a woman from wax, but she melted in the jungle sun. Then the youngest brother, Mopo, made a woman from wood and his father loved it so much, he made the youngest brother the Chief. That enraged Lujuree and Kujuli, so they killed Mopo.

For their punishment, their father cursed them for eternity. He turned the first brother into a coyote, an animal scavenging for rats and snakes, so all the people would hate it, then he sealed the second brother’s soul inside the same animal so the two souls would struggle continuously for dominance. During the full moon, the second brother becomes very strong, using the moon’s mystical powers, and the coyote turns into a hideous, blood-thirsty creature, roaming the night and sucking the blood from its victims. So the brothers are now either a chupacabra or a coyote, and they are feared and hunted no matter what shape they take. But it’s just a legend?

Physical descriptions of the creature are as colorful as a rainbow. It is reportedly a heavy creature, anywhere from the size of a small bear, to nine feet tall, with a row of spines reaching from the neck to the base of the tail. Some individuals claiming to have witness livestock attacks, described the creature as having large ears, whiskers, a long tail, and about the size of a house cat. Others described the creature as a “four-legged Dracula and a scrawny, scraggly thing.”

In “Welcome to Anna,” the chupacabra is enormous. Long gray/brown fur covers its entire body. Its teeth are large razor sharp and fanged. Its claws are long and curved, with eyes almost human, as it walks upright.

Most authorities report these animals as being coyotes, fox/coyotes, or wild dogs suffering from Sarcoptes scabier, a severe case of mange. That symptom would explain most of the features of the reported Chupacabras: they would be left with little or strange looking fur, thickened skin, and rank odour.

The reason this creature is said to kill goats and other small livestock is due to the fact that carnivores infected with mange, are greatly weakened, making it difficult for these sickly animals to hunt. So they may be forced into attacking livestock because it's easier than running down a rabbit or a deer.

Countless legends abound along with movies, books, and documentaries concerning the chupacabra. I once saw video footage capturing this bizarre creature believed to be a chupacabra, on episodes of the Syfy television series Fact or Faked: Paranormal Files. The video was at times so grainy, that creature running around on camera, could have been a child in an animal costume.

My heroine from “Welcome to Anna” is Zoe. To save herself and her town, lost her grandparents/guardians to a strange looking dog/coyote, while leaving her with minor injuries. Zoe must then return to the states to live with her estranged mother, Teresa. Little does Zoe realize, but the Chupacabra who attacked her and her grandparents followed her.

Little does 17 year old Zoe, realize, but the Chupracabra followed her to Ohio from South America. What happens next is a series of chilling mysteries, and unsuspecting friendships and love.

A spine-chilling scream suddenly echoed throughout the length of the cave. “Steady, men,” the sheriff shouted, cocking both barrels of his gun.

Hearing thunderous footsteps approaching and heavy breathing, they knew it was no ordinary bear or coyote. This animal must be enormous!

“Find your courage, men,” Jake said, and swallowed hard when the towering, horrendously ugly creature entered the light of their flashlights.

“Oh, my God!” screamed Darrel. He blasted the monster with his rifle, and Guy, Jake and the sheriff joined in.

The Chupracabra charged Darrell first, knocking him against the muddy wall and his weapon out of his hands. One of the dogs jumped onto the back of the beast, and the sheriff yanked his ten-inch skinning knife from its sheath. “Die, you bastard, die!” he yelled and shoved the blade deep into its fur-covered belly.

Jake reloaded his shotgun—and emptied it, but it was too late. The monster had ripped the sheriff’s head from his shoulders and tossed it against the far wall.

Horrified, Guy slumped to the cold cave floor, crying like a baby. “Oh, God! Oh, God! Help us,” he begged.

His cry for mercy went unheeded for the beast next turned his anger on the quivering man.

“You son-of-a-bitch," screamed Jake, grabbing Darrel’s pistol and firing wildly at the creature, not knowing if he hit is mark or not.

The bullets had no effect, as if the creature were built like a tank. Guy’s screams of sure death continued to pierce the forest, one after the other, until all was silence.

"There are quite a few surprises in this story that I did not expect. Definitely a story worth reading. This was a very worthwhile book and it was very diverse. The stories ranged from romance to myths, legends and monsters both human and nonhuman."

Reviewed by: Linda Tonis- Member of the Paranormal Romance Review Team June 2014

Hello all, Rhiannon Ayers, with her hot and steamy release, Saints United-for love of authority 3, is the newest author for my weekly author guest requests. Please do make her welcome.

Tags: exhibitionism, food play, furniture play, M/M/F, Ménage Amour: Erotic Consensual BDSM Ménage a Trois Romance, sex toys

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Thanks for joining me, Rhiannon! Can you tell us a bit about the premise for Saints United? Thanks for having me. Since the first two books in the series focused on submissives who had little or no experience with the lifestyle (and thus the stories were about introducing them to their true selves), I wanted this book to be more about the life of a submissive who knows exactly who and what he is. I wanted to show some of the darker aspects of D/s, while also highlighting the fact that pain and impact play are not necessary for living a D/s lifestyle. This book is more about the dynamics in a D/s menage relationship, with a Dom, a Switch, and a submissive male, all of whom are well-versed in the lifestyle itself and therefore are more focused on learning about their relationship with each other, rather than in learning each other’s kinks.
Saints United tells the story of a Dom/Switch couple, Ryder and Lyss St. Claire, who have always yearned for a true third to join their relationship. Enter Andre “AJ” Johannes. Sparks fly as the three discover their dynamic, and the story follows their journey toward forming a lasting bond with each other.

Tell us more about the characters. Who are Ryder, Lyss, and A.J.?
Ryder is a southern boy from a blue-blood family—every male in his family tree has been a cop. He is 6’2″, with short brown hair, a trimmed beard and mustache, and beautiful amber-colored eyes. He’s also a rebel, with half-sleeve arm tattoos and full chest and back pieces. He is a Dom, but not your standard 24/7 variety like most seem to be (in romance novels, that is.) Ryder is a bedroom Dom, with clearly defined boundaries for when and how he shows his Dominant side. Outside the bedroom (or the dungeon playroom), he’s just your average guy, dealing with annoying bosses, crazy work schedules, and trying to support his family. Inside the bedroom, he turns on like a nine-thousand-watt light bulb, and his Dominant nature comes roaring to the fore. Overall, I feel as if Ryder is one of the more realistic characters I’ve ever written. He’s not some perfect Dom who was born knowing what to do and can’t help shoving his Dominant nature in the faces of everyone he comes across. He is a Dom more like the kind you find in the real world, who have real lives and real jobs and can’t afford to be Dominant all the time. His personality has an interesting dynamic, which I hope readers will relate to. He certainly rings true for me, since I know quite a few men just like him!
Lyss is a sweet, sassy Southern belle with roots in small-town Georgia. She has long, wavy brown hair and hazel eyes, along with a slightly up-turned nose and a curvaceous figure. She was a practicing Domme for years before she met Ryder and learned the true meaning of submission. Now she Switches for her husband, and she absolutely loves being his sub. But, there’s also something missing. Lyss didn’t stop being a Domme when she met Ryder, and those urges are still there. She misses having a submissive man at her beck and call, but also knows that Ryder can’t be that for her. For Lyss, this story is about the emotional journey, going from Domme to sub to Switch and back again, while also helping her husband claim the man he’s always wanted. She wants nothing more than to make Ryder happy, and if making him happy also gives her the opportunity to exercise her Domme side, all the better.
A.J. is half-white, half-latino, with blue eyes, black hair, and tanned skin. He’s a computer nerd, with several different college degrees and accolades under his belt. He’s not so good on the social skills, though, and his personal life has been a total disaster since he ran from his first and only true love, Ryder. His marriage fell apart six months ago, and now he’s looking for a new start in a new city. But, there’s a hell of a lot more to A.J. than meets the eye. He discovered BDSM through a friend, and he desperately yearns for a way into that lifestyle. Not just playing in a club, or submitting to random Dominants for a one-night stand. He knows exactly who he is and what he wants—and doesn’t want—-from the lifestyle, and he’s not willing to settle for meaningless kink just to scratch his itch. When A.J. discovers that Ryder and Lyss are living the lifestyle he so desperately wants, he truly believes that he’s finally found a way to be who he wants while also being with the two people he loves more than life itself. What could go wrong?

What’s the most important thing that you want readers to learn from this book?
That pain and impact play are not essential to living a D/s lifestyle, for starters. So many people shy away from BDSM because they believe that bondage and masochism are required elements. They are not. You can live a D/s lifestyle without having to enjoy pain and bondage play of any kind. There’s so much more to it than those two things, yet so many believe that’s all there is. My hope is that readers will begin to see that there is no “one true way” and that D/s is always about what works for you, personally.

Is there anything else readers should know about this story?
This story was very personal for me, in a lot of aspects. Some of the scenarios are straight out of my personal playbook :) I hope my readers will enjoy the story, but also realize that this book is just one author’s interpretation of the lifestyle. The way my characters practice is the same way that I practice, so it is very personal. But, that doesn’t mean that my way is “right” way, and I am not by any means trying to get anyone to believe that my way is the only way. I write my stories with the simple hope that people will read them and understand that there are many, many ways to live the lifestyle, and that just because you tend to see certain aspects of it more often than others doesn’t mean that there aren’t other way’s to practice. There is NO right way. Just YOUR way.

STORY EXCERPT for Saints United (MMF) For Love of Authority 3

“Beautiful?” Ryder called as he closed and locked the door behind them. “We’re here.”
“Yeehaw!” said a joyful voice from the back of the apartment. “I’m just getting changed. Dinner’s on the stove. Right with you, boys.”
A.J. blinked, looking at Ryder questioningly. Ryder snorted. “She’s from Georgia,” he explained, eyes twinkling. “Country girl all the way.”
That explained the accent. Texans were known for that honeyed Southern drawl, but A.J. had never heard an accent as thick as the one Lyss had. If someone tried to spell out the words the way she said them, it probably wouldn’t even look like English. It sounded like she said, “Eye-yam jayast gittin’ chayn-gid. Deenir’s own th’ stow-ve. Reyet wit’ ye, bow-ees.” Kind of funny, actually. And sexy as fuck. There was a deep throatiness to her voice, that sensual timbre you’d expect from a nine-hundred number call girl. He’d noticed it when he listened to Ryder talk to her on the phone earlier, but had assumed he’d misheard because his brain was still swimming in lust from that kiss.
Apparently not. Curious now, wondering what kind of woman went with that kind of voice, A.J. turned toward the hallway across the living room and waited.
And felt all the breath leave his lungs in a silent whoosh when Lyss finally appeared.
Holy God, she was incredible. More striking than pretty, she had high cheekbones, full lips, and a slightly up-turned nose. Long bangs framed a high, aristocratic forehead while mile after mile of wavy, dark-brown hair spilled across her shoulders and down her back. Her shoulders were bared by an emerald-green tank top, while her thighs were lovingly molded by a pair of dark-blue jeans. She wasn’t one of those tiny stick women, either. Lyss had meat on her bones, and she had to be at least five-foot-seven. Luscious curves met his gaze everywhere he looked, from full, high breasts to rounded hips. She wasn’t overweight, though. Just full-figured. And hot damn, what a gorgeous figure it was.
While A.J. just stared, Lyss gave him an obvious once-over, then met his eyes with a dazzling smile that took his breath away all over again. There was so much character in her face, so much life, it was almost painful to look at her. She was entrancing.
No wonder Ryder loved her. No wonder Ryder married her. Holy hell, it was taking everything A.J. had not to drop to his knees in open worship. This woman embodied every single one of his fantasies about women, from her height to her weight to the sheer vivacity in her eyes. She must have men drooling over her everywhere she went.
Guess I still like women, after all. And here I thought my problem was I’d fallen in love with Ryder all those years ago. But that wasn’t what killed my desire for Marian, was it? She just…wasn’t my type. Holy hell, how did I not see that sooner?
His mind going in a million different directions at once, A.J. missed seeing Lyss cross the living room. Next thing he knew, she was standing less than a foot away, looking up into his face with clear hazel eyes that pierced right through every wall he’d erected around his soul, seeing all of him—instantly. He’d never felt so bare in front of another person, and yet he didn’t feel threatened. On the contrary, Lyss made him feel…safe.
Which made no sense. At all.
“I’m so excited I finally get to meet you,” Lyss said softly. A.J. could do nothing but stare dumbly as she reached up and slid her index finger along his jawline. Electricity zapped from that one point of contact straight through his spine, setting off little shivers he had no hope of hiding. Lyss smirked knowingly and caressed him again. “I’ve been waiting for this, A.J. I’m so very, very glad you’re here right now.”
A.J. swallowed hard. “I’m happy to meet you, too, Lyss. Ryder has a lot of great things to say about you.”
She grinned at him, making A.J.’s heart do a funny little dance. “Is that right? Well, did he also tell you I make a mean chicken and dumplings? ‘Cause that’s what I’ve got for ya’ll tonight. You hungry?”
Not for food. But he nodded anyway. “Sure.”
Ryder, who had been silent throughout their meeting, suddenly came up behind A.J., pressing A.J.’s shoulder blades against that hard chest as he lightly circled A.J.’s waist with both hands. That deep, rumbly voice sounded right by A.J.’s ear. “I’m going to go change. You guys get acquainted. I’ll be right back.”
A.J. couldn’t think, let alone respond. Not when they were standing on either side of him, caging him between them. Ryder’s heat blanketed his back, his body a wall of solid muscle strong enough to hold A.J. up no matter how weak he got. Lyss’s inviting curves so tantalizingly close, her hand still caressing his jaw and neck, provided a temptation unlike anything A.J. had ever experienced before. Between the two of them, his mind just…stopped.
His mouth, unfortunately, didn’t.
“I kissed your husband,” A.J. gasped.
Mortified, he cringed, waiting for their anger.
But Lyss surprised him with a laugh. “I know,” she said with a cheeky little grin.
Ryder snorted. “He means today.”
A.J. sucked in a breath as Lyss glanced at Ryder over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “Oh?”
Ryder’s shoulders moved up and down in what must have been a shrug. “He was talking nonsense. It was the only way I could think of to shut him up.”

ADULT EXCERPT

He must have slept. Now, though, he was wide awake—and so was his cock.
A big, hot hand slid down the center of A.J.’s back. He groaned, closing his eyes as Ryder took hold of his ass cheek and squeezed.
“I missed your ass, A.J.,” Ryder murmured. He squeezed again. “Lift up, so I can put this pillow under you.”
A.J. complied, balancing on knees and elbows while Ryder slid a plump white pillow under his hips. His cock was a steel bar, leaking already, now trapped between his body and the pillow beneath him. But he didn’t protest. Didn’t try to adjust himself. He spread his knees, presenting his ass for Ryder, knowing his owner was about to make good use of his slave’s body.
Ryder didn’t waste any time. He started working A.J.’s hole with lube, making him grit his teeth as little slivers of pain washed through him. He hadn’t had anything in his ass in a long time, and Ryder was huge. He was tender, but not so much that he wanted Ryder to stop. In a weird way, it felt good, knowing he was sore because his lover had already used him hard tonight. He wanted that feeling, craved it, to the point where the thought alone was enough to drive him closer to the edge of sub-space. He squeezed his eyes shut and gave himself over to Ryder’s expert care.
“Oh, fuck yes,” Ryder growled, scissoring two fingers inside A.J. now. A.J. shuddered, biting back a moan as Ryder shifted to his knees and knelt between A.J.’s thighs. Ryder took a strong grip on both of his ass cheeks, squeezing and separating them as he pressed the head of his cock to A.J.’s quivering ring. A.J. forced himself to relax, letting the breath out of his lungs in one long, slow whoosh as Ryder pushed into him. The pain was intense, almost drawing a cry from him, but he held on against it. Ryder, for his part, ignored any sign that his slave might not be ready for another fucking. He shoved his cock deep into A.J.’s chute, not stopping until his balls slapped A.J.’s perineum.
“Fuck, yes,” Ryder said as he started to thrust. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of A.J.’s torso, pounding him deep. “Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking tight. I missed this ass.”
A.J. could only shudder, his face buried in his pillow. His cuffs were still attached to the headboard. Once again, the S hooks were open. He could free himself any time he wanted. But it felt so good, knowing he was restrained for Ryder’s pleasure, the thought didn’t even occur to him. He wanted Ryder to use him. He wanted Ryder to fuck him as hard as he could, knowing A.J. wouldn’t resist. He wanted Ryder to own him, make himself come using A.J.’s body. He was their sex toy. Nothing more, nothing less.
And he fucking loved it.
Lyss must have woken the moment Ryder started fucking him. She slid over toward A.J., running one hand up and down his back while Ryder continued pounding him. The scent of her arousal filled the air, letting A.J. know just how much she enjoyed watching her husband fuck another man.
“Get ready, beautiful,” Ryder said suddenly, his words obviously directed at Lyss. “The toys I ordered for you are in the drawer, there. One of your fantasies is about to come true.”
A.J. had no idea what they were talking about. But then, it was hard to think, let alone reason, while Ryder’s glorious cock was pounding his ass. His balls were drawing up, his cock wetting the pillow under his hips. Were they going to let him come? Fuck, please let me come…
Ryder shifted back again, gripping A.J.’s ass cheeks once again as he continued fucking him. A.J. lost control of his vocal chords, moaning incessantly. Ryder started grunting with each hard thrust, fingers squeezing A.J. hard enough to leave bruises. And finally, when A.J. was ready to scream with the pleasure flooding his system, Ryder slammed himself deep and froze. A.J. felt his cock pulsing, felt the hot spurts of semen through the condom, and let out a healthy moan. Fuck, he loved feeling Ryder come. Maybe someday he could feel it without the condom. Maybe someday…
He lost track of the thought when Ryder pulled out and rolled to one side. A.J. waited, expecting an order to turn himself over so that Lyss could ride him.
But no such order was given. Instead, Lyss knelt behind A.J. just as Ryder had done, taking a grip on his ass cheeks just like her husband had. And while A.J. was still reeling, wondering what the hell was going on, he felt the tip of something probe his ass.
Holy. Fuck. Lyss was wearing a strap-on. She was about to fuck him with a silicone dick. A faint buzzing noise filled the air as she slid the dildo into him, making him realize she had a vibrator inside the strap-on. Which meant she was fucking him for her own pleasure, not his.
“Oh, shit…oh, fuck…Lady…Sir…Fuck, I’m going to come…” A.J. gasped.
Ryder chuckled beside him, reaching over to slide a finger beneath A.J.’s collar, forcing it to tighten across the front of his throat. “Our slave seems to think we care if he comes,” he said conversationally, ignoring A.J.’s cry as Lyss started rocking her hips back and forth.
“He can come all he wants,” Lyss said in a silky, sensuous purr. “I want to use his ass to get myself off, not his cock. He can come without interfering with my pleasure. If our slave enjoys getting pegged, so much the better. I’m still going to fuck his ass until I come.”
Too much. It was all too much. Cum boiled out of his balls like molten lava exploding from a volcano, soaking the pillow beneath him. Lyss kept riding him, her fake dick slamming his sweet spot over and over again, making the orgasm intensify to mind-blowing heights. A.J. threw back his head and screamed, completely lost in it. And all the while Lyss just kept fucking him, intent on her own pleasure.
A.J. hit sub-space with the force of a freight train. The next hour passed in a blissful haze. His lovers continued using his body, trading back and forth, revving each other up while ignoring A.J. completely. He was their property. They were using him like the sex slave he was. It should have been humiliating, to be used like an object. But for him, it was the ultimate high. He wanted them to use him. He wanted them to own him. He wanted them to need his body to get themselves off. It was the ultimate affirmation of his worth. They not only wanted him, they needed him. And every time he felt one of them come, he knew he was proving his usefulness.
After the second time Lyss slammed into him and froze, shaking with the force of her orgasm, A.J. figured they were done with him. His cock was rock-hard again, more than ready to burst, but that was okay. His lovers were sated. That’s what mattered. He fully expected them to roll over and fall asleep, leaving him wanting.
He was wrong. Oh, fuck, was he ever wrong.

Published By: Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

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Good morning and welcome to my blog and the newest entry for Paranormal Loves Wednesday Hop. Please browse my website before moving on. Thank you.

Blurbs for “Loves, Myths and Monsters” 11 tales of fantasy, intrigue, and mystery, entwined within the human world

Welcome To Anna
Little does 17 year old Zoe, realize, but the Chupracabra followed her to Ohio from South America. What happens next is a series of chilling mysteries, and unsuspecting friendships and love.

The Hunter's Bride
When all game warden Daren Abram, had to worry about was which lucky lady to woo, he comes to the realization that his town is being stalked by the reincarnation of the town's legend.

Moon People
For teenage mermaid Constance, coming to the quaint seaside town of Willowick, is heavenly, until she falls for mortal boy Drake. For the town to survive, Constance is forced to choose between her kind and the boy and town she loves.

The Pack
When young Lycan Sonny Red Blanket, a Shawnee Indian falls for mortal girl Drenda Way, he must save her from his fellow Lycan's and stop a werewolf uprising.

The Bidding
Apiologist 34-year-old Duncan McPherson goes to Circleville, Ohio, to investigate a series of mysterious bee attacks. What is uncovered proves to be more dark and sinister then anyone imaged.

The Agreement
Incarcerated in the abandoned Roseville jail, is the last thing rich college student and speeder Brice Conrad, needs. With an "agreement" between the town and a permanent demonic "guest", only the unfortunate ones know the truth, but do not live to tell.

For The Love Of Ginnie
Handsome bachelor and Scientist Alex Anderson from the thirtieth century, returns to the Civil War with time serum to save his beloved Ginnie Wade from a snipers bullet, while finding a roller coaster ride of joy and perils.

Is It Only A Myth?
When 32-year-old Vinton County Sheriff, James "Jim" Connors, discovers he has a Mothman hunting in his county, he stops at nothing to save his citizens.

The Proposition
The rough and ready cowboy John Queenie gets the shock of his life, when the ad to break a "wild filly" turns out to be a fiery Quaker girl named Tess. This is a story proving love conquers all.

The House On Shady Lane
A seemingly loving family turns out to be serial killers in 1873.

Love's Curse
When an Egypt love curse scroll is stolen from a Dean's office, persons begin dying in bizarre and grisly ways, with the college's mascot a Viking King statue jokingly blamed for it.

Excerpt Setting: Characters Det. Wang and love interest Amunet visit Amunet’s college after hours. While there, Det. Wang encounters murder suspect Karla, forging through her recently murdered daughters locker. Det. Wang insists on an inappropriate search of Karla’s person.

Excerpt: She trembled with forbidden pleasure, finding his large strong hands inviting. Her nipples hardened. “I’ll have your badge for this,” she whispered.

He leaned in and sighed, “No one will believe you; you’re a murder suspect.” Then he placed his hands on her firm buttocks, and, caressing her hips and back with both hands, he blew on the back of her soft, highly fragrant neck.

“You’re a bastard,” she moaned, turning over to give him better access to her oh-so-willing front.

“Yes, but the ladies love me, anyway.” He unbuttoned her white silk blouse to suckle her breasts. “And you will too.” They locked lips. The kiss was long and hot. But both were so engrossed, neither knew they had an audience.

Karla kissed him in return and slid her hands up his shirt and onto his sweaty skin. He then reached under her skirt and ripped off her moist panties. She in turn unzipped his jeans, which allowed them to bump buggies against the lockers.

While searching the passageways for her ride, Amunet was alerted by the unmistakable sounds of fornication coming from the nearby hall. She crept to the metal and glass door behind her.

“No! No!” Karla shouted, trying to hide beneath a desk. Her weak attempt to escape, however, proved useless.

Hello and welcome to the blog of JoAnne Myers. This week I have J. Alden Hall as my guest. He is here to open up about him and his new release, Connected: From Godfather to God-the-Father.A Memoir filled with suspense, danger, and intrigue. Please make him welcome and don’t forget to leave comments.

Hello Jim, please tell us a little about yourself. I was a successful businessman for many years before committing to full-time Christian Ministry in 1992. My businesses were diverse and included the popular Carlos McGee’s restaurant chain. My involvement and close connections with members of the Chicago Mafia brought my name and businesses up before a special “Organized Crime Task Force” (OCTF). I became a target of the OCTF, and in 1982 was sentenced to 3 1/2 years in federal prison. It was there that my life changed.

After my release, I owned a marketing and sales consulting business when Bruce Wilkinson, the founder of Walk Thru the Bible Ministries, persuaded me to work with his organization. For fifteen years I served in their Seminar Division and when I left, I was Vice President of Seminars and Training, as well as Interim Vice President of Publishing. I currently am a marketing and business consultant and a popular speaker in both Christian and non-Christian settings. I am active with my church and I lead two large monthly Bible studies in Atlanta. I live in the Atlanta suburbs with my wife Judy and am within driving distance of our three daughters and eight grandchildren

What genre(s) do you write, and why? My original book is a memoir. I am currently writing a suspense adventure fiction book that includes the mafia and the biggest art theft in America’s history.

What is your book about? Connected: From Godfather to God-the-Father begins with Jim “Bobo” Hall facing a federal judge. It ends with his salvation and the miracles he experienced while in prison. I am this Bobo, and the book is my memoir.

My book never would have been interesting, or my life so strange, if it had continued down the ordinary path of the first six years of my childhood–but it didn’t. At the age of seven, the FBI’s search for an escaped convict, and former member of John Dillinger’s gang, brings them to my house looking for my father. When my dad eludes capture, my family and I join him in a lifestyle some describe as outlaw.

From the Italian gangs of Chicago, to my boarding school experiences at a Catholic Seminary, my pre-adult life is marked by so many unusual adventures that it might have been a remarkable read if I had ended it before I started my adult journey. However, as some say, “That’s just the beginning of my story.”

After college I found I had a knack for business, especially dirty business. My chronical follows my days as a wealthy businessman, and how I became involved with the Mafia leadership in Chicago. My story tries to highlight the drama, adventure, and sadness of my life. I include vignettes about various mafia chiefs, Frank Sinatra, skimming Las Vegas casinos, murder, the mob’s possible role in John F. Kennedy’s death, and my time in Federal Prison.

Ultimately, what’s most important, it’s a remarkable story of how only God can bring peace to a life of chaos.

What inspired you to write this book? In 1993 I left the business world to join Walk Thru the Bible Ministries. I had shared my testimony many times before then, but this opened up an entirely new set of audiences. Most everywhere I shared my story someone would say, “You’ve got to write a book.” I’d smile and shrug it off. It was many years before I seriously took on the project. Two events set my writing into motion.

First, as many others experienced during the recent great recession, I found myself without a job. 　 With plenty of time available, I began writing. Once started, memories returned and words flowed. As the page numbers grew, the excitement intensified.

The second important moment came when I joined up with a group of writers that gave me the guidance needed to move from being a speaker to being a writer. The group called themselves the Seedwriters because they believed they were formed to “write seeds of God's word into their books,” and to support each other. Maybe they just felt sorry for the lone male in their consortium, but soon they enveloped me with their collective wings. They prodded and encouraged me when I needed it most.

Most importantly, they lovingly explained the difference in being a public speaker with a story, and a writer hoping to bring the tale to life. Without their mentoring, I’m not sure I’d ever be published.

What is the writing process like for you? “How did it get so late so soon? Its night before its afternoon. December is here before its June. My goodness how the time has flown. How did it get so late so soon?” Dr. Seuss

For me, finding the time to write is my biggest challenge. When I do, I generally alternate writing my draft one time and edit the next.

How does it feel to be a published author? While I have a greater empathy with writers now, I don’t feel any different now.

Any advice for struggling writers? "Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass." - Anton Chekhov.

Where do you see book publishing headed to? While there will continue to be less paper, people will continue to read.

If your book were made into a movie, who would be the hero and heroine? Since this is a memoir, it might seem to be presumptuous to project some “hunk” playing me. However, Christian Bale might play me well. A blonde Amy Adams would be perfect for my wife.

I placed my hands on the desk and forced my quaking legs to stand. Sweat, like a block of ice in a sauna, rained down my pants. Could that grandfatherly man in the flowing black robe really be the man the Chicago mafia and I had plotted murdering? Did he know how close we came to being successful?

The FBI’s search for an escaped convict, a former member of John Dillinger’s gang, brought them to little Bobo’s house as they attempted to unearth his father. Bobo’s dad eluded capture, and the seven-year old joined his father, embarking on life as a fugitive. Searching for happiness through his Catholic boarding school years and success as a businessman, Jim Hall became entrenched in the mafia. With riveting tales of Frank Sinatra, Las Vegas casinos, and a possible connection to JFK’s death, this is the miraculous true story of a boy connected to the godfather who finds his way to peace with God the Father.

“There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in.” Graham Greene, The Power and the Glory

Bad choices are sometimes birthed before we make them. Like all babies, I came into the world free, made in the image of God. However, I lived much of my life as a prisoner of my selfishness and greed...and eventually of the federal penitentiary system. My incarceration, birthed in fear and overflowing with wrong decisions, began on a summer morning I refer to as that day. I was seven.

The rooster screamed for my eyes to open. I’d never seen this bird or even knew who owned it, but always welcomed its voice on weekends. I ran to the window to confirm what I already knew. Sunshine. Warmth. And lots of both. I tossed on my clothes and bolted to the kitchen. It was Saturday, after all. Dad would have a great breakfast waiting. Maybe even his famous chocolate-chip pancakes. Famous to me, anyway. We’d eat together, and then I’d be free.

Mom’s trained voice sang a Doris Day tune as I grabbed my usual chair at the table. I flopped on a seat and rolled up the flapjack. “Use your fork and make sure to chew each bite at least thirty times.”

From the stove Dad smiled, “If you don’t chew your food, your poots will smell.”

“Daaaaad!” Thank heaven there were no cute girls around. Parents could be so embarrassing.

It was just like any Saturday in the small Michigan town where we’d moved two years before. With Dad gone all week at his job as a Chicago pastry chef, weekends were special. But nothing could keep a young boy in the house on such a beautiful day. I gobbled up the last of my food and gulped my OJ. I was so out of there.

Dad rinsed the plates, and Mom tucked a carton of juice in my pack as I blew through the kitchen in search of my shoes.

“Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” I called to the open window as I threw one leg over my bicycle seat and turned in the direction of anywhere.

That day, my ride took me up a super high hill—challenging for a boy whose feet barely touched the pedals. At the top, I stopped to rest and sip from a carton of orange juice. I peered down the hill I’d just climbed.

My gaze stretched to the right beyond the rows of houses that dotted the ground directly below.

“Wait a sec.” I searched for the streetlamp that stood on the corner of my road and then counted five houses over. I peered closer at what I was sure was my driveway. Four squad cars. What on earth were four cruisers doing in front of my house? That could mean nothing but trouble.

My juice sprayed across my shin as I dropped it to the ground. I sailed down the hill I’d just powered my way up and then pumped my short legs as hard as I could to keep my momentum. What I’d give that moment for a bike with gears.

I maneuvered my bike past one brown and three black squad cars that sat on the street...waiting. Biking slowly up the driveway, I passed a dark, unmarked vehicle with a small blue bubble thing on the roof above the driver’s door.

I hoisted my leg over and jumped from my still moving bike which rode on rider-less, and then dumped on the grass. I ran hard, right into the arms of a huge cowboy.

“Whoa, where you think you going?” The man was massive. His brown uniform, beige cowboy hat, and holstered gun reminded me of an unmasked Lone Ranger.

I stared up at his huge head, certain he could swallow me whole if he chose. No words came.

“Okay, Bobo,” I sensed the smile in his voice though none appeared on his face. “Why don’t you wait here with me until everyone’s finished inside?” The man knelt on one knee. Even bent over, he seemed colossal. His immense fingers softly squeezed my shoulder. I had never seen anything like it. His thumb was bigger than my whole hand.

Would he get mad if I didn’t talk? But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get the words to leave my mouth.

“It’s sure a pretty one.” He seemed like a nice man, but I stayed frozen in place. Giants can be very tricky.

The front door flew open and two policemen darted out. Shouting something I couldn’t understand, they sprinted around to the back of my house. Why were they holding guns? Something bad happened in my house.

My muscles strained toward the front door. I had to get in there. I had to know. But once I knew, there’d be no going back. Maybe not knowing was better.

The hulk beside me rose and joined the other officers in a huddle like they do at football games. In less than a minute, they all, expect the big one, rushed to their cars and sped off with sirens shrieking and blue lights flashing.

Something told me he was telling the truth, so I reached for his hand, grateful for the contact. How could such thick fingers be so gentle? We headed to the door where my mother stood.

“Thank you, Sheriff.” She peeled my hand from his, my grip tighter than I’d realized.

“That’s all right, Billie, I’m sure it’ll all work out.” He offered a sympathetic smile.

He strode to his car and opened the door, but stopped. He lumbered to my bike and lifted it off the ground like it was a feather. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped my bicycle clean, then wheeled it into the garage just like my dad would have done.

Tears streamed down the sheriff’s face. What did that mean? Giants weren’t supposed to cry.

I glanced at Mom. Dark circles had appeared under her bloodshot eyes and her uncombed hair looked kind of crazy.

Maybe I could find him myself. I marched to the kitchen where a medley of coffee cups and ashtrays littered the table and the window ledge. One lay shattered on the floor. I collected the chunks of white porcelain of Dad’s last Father’s Day gift. The spilled coffee blended with the caramel linoleum floor.

I heard voices outside. Was that shouting? Had Dad come back? I peeked through the heavy drapes. The cars that had sped off minutes before were back.

She was in the living room on the phone. “Could you please keep the kids tonight, maybe tomorrow too? No, Bobo will stay with me. Thanks, I’ll explain everything tomorrow.” She hung up the phone and tapped on the red plastic and chrome kitchen chair. Obediently, I sat down. She took a seat across me and pulled a long, shaky draw from her cigarette. “Bobo, let’s talk.”

That’s the second time she said this. It seemed strange because only adults “talked.” Her fingers massaged her temples so hard I thought her eyes might pop out. “I don’t know how to explain this to you, to anyone…even to myself.”

“Bobo, the police say your dad is someone else, not who we think.” She tried to use the sleeves of her light blue robe to wipe her tears, but it was no use, there were too many.

“No, he’s your dad. It’s just that…” She took another puff and continued, “I just don’t know...” Her sobs took over. I put my arms around her and held her. Our tears mingled as she clung to me. But why was I crying?

She left the room and returned with a roll of toilet paper, took a handful for herself, and handed the rest to me.

“He’s your father, but they say he’s someone different than we think. While you were out the sheriff arrived with some of his men and two FBI agents. They wanted to talk with your dad. I yelled for him. He came out of the kitchen carrying the baby.”

She dropped her cigarette into a coffee cup to swim with the other butts, and shook another from the pack. Trembling hands worked at the lighter until she managed to light her next smoke. “The FBI said they had some reason to believe your dad was an escaped prisoner from the Missouri State Prison. They asked him to get dressed and come down to the local police station. About that time, a couple other police cars pulled up.”

Her whole body trembled. She used both hands to get the cigarette to her lips and then sucked on it like it was oxygen.

“Bob, the sheriff, who both your dad and I know, said this had to be some kind of mistake. He said the County gets a mistaken identity from the FBI pretty often. I offered to make some more coffee and your dad went into the bedroom to put some clothes on.” Mom walked to the refrigerator, grabbed the orange juice and drank directly from the carton. She always told us to never do that, but when she handed it to me I took a long gulp. Some rules didn’t matter when a dad goes to jail.

“About the time Madge left with your brother and sister, and one of the FBI agents asked me to tell your dad that he needed to get a move on. I went to the bedroom, but when I opened the door it was empty, and the window was open. Your dad was gone.”

Escaped? Where? Why? I looked at the floor to make sure it was still there. The room spun.

I wanted to be strong like John Wayne and Gary Cooper in the movies, but fear begins with the unknown. I stared into her eyes. Surely she’d pull me into her arms and tell me it would be okay. She’d tell me that she’d take care of me...of us.

Mom palmed her pack of smokes and stumbled to her bedroom. The door closed with a loud thud.

I paced the room. What had he done? When had he escaped? How did they find out? I clutched at my hair. Why hadn’t he told us? Why had he run? The questions...too much.

“Leave me alone! No more questions.” Her wail sounded far away. Under a pillow maybe.

I stumbled away from the door. I’d leave her alone, but I was the one truly left alone.

The day passed in a blur as I waited for something to happen. For the police to come back with news. For Dad to come back through the window and tell me it was okay. Or take me with him. For me to wake up and discover it had all been a dream.

Night fell, and I needed escape. I crawled into bed begging my body to sleep.

Maybe it was time to pray for real. Not the little-kid prayers I’d been saying since I was born, but the kid of prayers grown-ups prayed in church.

“God, please keep my daddy safe. Please bring him home. And please make my mom come to my room and kiss me goodnight.” Her arms around me would help me get through the night.

The dark silence droned on and on. If God was real, then He wasn’t listening to me.

This book sounds remarkable. I will certainly buy a copy. Thank you so much Jim for this interesting interview. All the best with Connected: From Godfather to God-the-Father .

Well readers this is the last post for me for The Bloody Valentine Horror Hop. I want to thank all of you who stopped by my blog. I hope you enjoyed this party, and I will see you all again at the next Coffin Hop party. Thank you and good night.

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