Crime Fiction Special Feature: The Chill of Night by James Hayman

Some Crimes Can Never Be Forgiven.

Lainie Goff thought she had it all. The ambitious young attorney was brilliant, beautiful, and on a fast-track to a lucrative partnership at one of the top firms in New England. But then, one cold night, a dark and ugly secret comes back from Lainie’s past and she pushes things too far. Soon her body is found, frozen solid in sub-zero temperatures at the end of the Portland Fish Pier.

A mentally ill woman named Abby Quinn witnesses the brutal crime. But when she tells what she has seen, nobody will believe her. Not until she too mysteriously disappears.

In The Chill of Night, Portland homicide detective Michael McCabe finds himself finds himself fighting memories from his own past as he races to find the killer before another life is lost.

James Hayman once again tells a gripping tale of evil and deceit and creates characters so real and so human, we want to meet them again and again.

Read an excerpt!

Abby looked up and saw a low dark thing moving toward her. A black form, now visible through the whipping snow, now obliterated by it. With each step it grew clearer and bigger. At twenty feet it began to take shape. Animal. Not human. A large dog, gray fur glistening under crystals of snow, cruel icy eyes shining through the night, more wolf than dog. She stopped but the animal kept coming. She could hear its rumbling growl. Low. Menacing. Commanding. Her heart beat against the walls of her chest so hard she was certain it would break through. She knew what the creature wanted. She knelt on her hands and knees. It bared a fang long enough and sharp enough to penetrate the soft flesh at back of her neck. She lowered her head and waited for release. But release didn’t come. Finally, after a minute or two, she looked up and it was gone. She could see nothing in front of her but the snow-covered street and the wind-swept flakes still hurtling down through the night sky. She stayed where she was, kneeling in the snow. She could hear a child crying. She listened. After a bit she realized the sound was coming from her. She got up and started walking again.




Read the reviews!

"Hayman once again takes the readers into a complicated web, masterfully woven and delightful to read through. As before, Hayman’s characters are realistic and as with Detective McCabe, flawed, making them all the more realistic. The Chill of Night will keep the reader up long into the night, as this is one book that the reader will not want to put down. I highly recommend The Chill of Night to anyone looking for an extremely well written suspense novel.”

–Rundpinne

“I loved this book! James is such a talented writer. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time I was reading. Two thumbs up!”

–Readaholic

"The Chill of Night strikes a great balance between the development of characters and the unfolding of the investigation. Hayman brings an attention to detail to the investigation that is often overlooked – or flat out gotten wrong – in crime fiction...James Hayman is the real deal, and the Michael McCabe series is one to put on your “buy on release day” list."

--Musings of an All Purpose Monkey
"The Chill of Night was a great addition to a series I am very excited about. I'll certainly be on the lookout for Hayman's next book."

--The Book Connection

Like McCabe, I’m a native New Yorker. He was born in the Bronx. I was born in Brooklyn. We both grew up in the city. He dropped out of NYU Film School and joined the NYPD, rising through the ranks to become the top homicide cop at the Midtown North Precinct. I graduated from Brown and joined a major New York ad agency, rising through the ranks to become creative director on accounts like the US Army, Procter & Gamble, and Lincoln/Mercury.


We both married beautiful brunettes. McCabe’s wife, Sandy dumped him to marry a rich investment banker who had “no interest in raising other people’s children.” My wife, Jeanne, though often given good reason to leave me in the lurch, has stuck it out through thick and thin and is still my wife. She is also my best friend, my most attentive reader and a perceptive critic.


Both McCabe and I eventually left New York for Portland, Maine. I arrived in August 2001, shortly before the 9/11 attacks, in search of the right place to begin a new career as a fiction writer. He came to town a year later, to escape a dark secret in his past and to find a safe place to raise his teenage daughter, Casey.


There are other similarities between us. We both love good Scotch whiskey, old movie trivia and the New York Giants. And we both live with and love women who are talented artists.


There are also quite a few differences. McCabe’s a lot braver than me. He’s a better shot. He likes boxing. He doesn’t throw up at autopsies. And he’s far more likely to take risks. McCabe’s favorite Portland bar, Tallulah’s, is, sadly, a figment of my imagination. My favorite Portland bars are all very real.
Visit James on the web at www.jameshaymanthrillers.com.

Mystery Special Feature: N.H.I.: No Humans Involved by Ray Ellis

Half of Treasure City is controlled by a violent street gang. The other half is controlled by fear. A rookie detective, Nate Richards, is thrust between the two. Abyss, a mysterious street gang moves into the valley and people have started dying. Nate’s girlfriend suddenly disappears and the gang is being targeted as the cause. With his partner fighting for her life – the result of a vigilante’s bullet, political pressure from above, and time running out to find his missing girlfriend, Nate has to overcome the darkness that has taken over the city and threatening to consume his soul. Forced to fight to stay on the case, he has to work against his command and the elements of the streets while trying to hold on to his faith that seems to make less and less sense as details unfold. With darkness growing and evil seeming to swell, will Nate have enough time to solve the murder and discover the identity of the new gang leader before his girlfriend becomes the latest victim in the growing violent total? Will he succumb to get the job done by any means necessary, or will he become part of the problem and prove that there are No Humans Involved?

Read an excerpt!

Chapter One


The body of the teenage boy lay face down in the gutter, his bandana, his colors, still clenched in his fist, floated in the water beside him. Blood mixed with rain raced in a gurgling stream down the drain splashing noisily as it made its way to the river.

What had it gained him? What had he proved? These were a few of the questions that flashed through Detective Nate Richards’ mind as he studied the crime scene. Summer rain washed over Richards’ lean frame, soaking his loose brown curls to the scalp. Flexing a muscle in his jaw, he lifted a hand to wipe water from his face. The street light reflected off of his cocoa-colored skin twinkling in the early morning darkness. “Who’s calling the scene?” Nate asked the group of four uniformed officers standing near a row of patrol cars, their overhead lights casting a rainbow effect on the wet pavement.

Three of the four uniformed men walked toward Nate. He looked between the men, and finding the corporal stripes directed his comments to them. “What d’ya’ got, Benson?” he asked, reading the name tag that went along with them.

“Another one down. One less to worry about shooting me in the back,” Corporal Chad Benson muttered under his breath while using his hand to squeegee rainwater from his short blond hair. He chuckled to himself as he walked past the body headed for his patrol unit. He glanced at Nate as he passed.

“Does the phrase crime scene integrity mean anything to you, Benson?” Nate said.

“What’s your problem?” Benson said in a harsh whisper. “It’s not like it means anything. They breed like rats down here. Who cares if they kill each other off? We’ll have two more by week’s end. Mark my word. And it won’t even make a difference.”

The two uniformed officers with Benson smiled at their team commander’s remarks. One of the men stared at Nate, holding his gaze for an extra heart beat longer than necessary before turning away. Nate made a mental note to remember the men’s names.

“Stow it. Now.” Nate cut his gaze to a woman sitting on the curb rocking and hugging herself. The dead teen’s mother. Grabbing Benson by the shoulder, Nate pulled him off to the side. “You can’t see?”

Benson snatched his arm from Nate. “What?”

“You okay, Bens?” one of the other officers called and stepped toward Nate.

“Johnson, right?” Nate asked, making sure he had the man’s name correct. “Is this the way you run a crime scene?” Nate had directed the question to Benson.

Looking down the desolate street, Nate pointed to the nearest intersection. “Block that off and get some cones out in the street to keep paramedics and everyone else from driving through my crime scene.”

Johnson looked at Nate but didn’t move.

“You got a problem with that, Patrolman?” Nate asked.

“Go ‘head,” Benson said, stepping between the two men. “Look, Detective, we do just fine. You take care of your stuff and I’ll take care of mine.”

Without responding Nate turned away from the officer and approached the woman, hoping she hadn’t overheard Benson’s comments or noticed the patrolmen’s cavalier attitudes.

Shielding his notepad from the rain with his arm, he checked the comments he’d recorded there. He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Fuentes? I’m Detective Nate Richards, Treasure Valley Metro Police Department. I need to ask you a few questions.”

The woman raised her dark eyes, like dead pools, lifeless and cold, to meet Nate’s expectant gaze. “What does it matter? We breed like rats anyway, right?” She pulled her jacket collar tight around her neck and turned away from him.

So much for her not having heard, Nate thought. He stooped to meet the woman’s gaze. “Mrs. Fuentes…”

“Miss. I’m not married. But, I guess that’s okay when you’re only a Cricetomys emini, huh?”

Struck by the woman’s beauty, Nate thought she didn’t look much older than a teen herself. “Miss Fuentes,” he began again, “A what?”

“A pregnant rat,” she said, anger coloring her voice.

Nate broke eye contact for the briefest of moments, but watched her, gauging her movements. “I apologize for the officer’s crudeness. There’s no excuse for his behavior. I also assure you that his is not the general attitude of the police department.” Nate was sincere in his response, but knew avoiding an officer complaint was a good idea as well.

The woman stood abruptly. She looked again at her son lying dead in the street, took a breath and seemed to gather herself. “Can I take him now?”

“I’m sorry Mrs.—Miss Fuentes, but the body can’t be released until the coroner has been called and finishes his examination.”

“You gonna cut up my baby? You gonna cut him open and play around inside him? For what? We know what killed him. The bullets killed him. Just let me take him and put him to rest.”

Nate looked over the woman’s shoulder at Officer Benson sitting in his patrol unit out of the rain and wished that it was Benson standing in the rain having to explain the bad behavior instead of him. Benson sat leaning back in the passenger’s seat stuffing the last of something into his mouth.

“Miss Fuentes, I’m sorry, but certain things have to be done and then—”

“I don’t care. You want to assure me you don’t see my son as some kind of second class citizen? You find the man who killed him and you make him pay.” She walked away, her shoulders heaving as she struggled against the sobs shaking her entire body. Stopping a short distance away, she leaned against the wall and stood there absorbed by the shadows.

Nate stormed over to the patrol car and pulled open the door. “Benson, you’re a pig.”

Benson looked up, a smear of mayonnaise stuck in the corner of his mouth. “What? What’d I do?”

Nate looked in the direction the woman had disappeared. “You couldn’t see the mother sitting not fifteen feet from you? What were you thinking?”

“NHI, man. Why should I get all bothered over nothing?”

Nate clenched and then relaxed his fist. He inhaled and blew out his breath in one explosive sigh, water vapor springing from around his lips. Without speaking he turned and walked away. Kneeling beside the body, he began his investigation while fighting to control his anger at Benson’s callous behavior.
 
Read the reviews!
 
"Nate Richard is a great character and I’m really looking forward to more books in this series! I definitely enjoyed Ray Ellis’ writing I’ll be looking forward to book 2 which is D.R.T. (Dead Right There).”


--Life in Review

"This debut novel is fantastically written, gripped me and pulled me into the midst of chaotic street gangs, and rookie detectives. I love crime novels, I love the awesome suspense that comes with them, and this book is definitely overflowing with the suspense and the crime."

--Reviews by Molly

PURCHASE N.H.I. AT AMAZON!

Ray Ellis began his law enforcement career with the Orange County Sheriff’s Department in Orange County, California. After working for a number of years in the maximum security facility, he transferred to patrol working along Orange County’s coast as well as the inner canyons and barrios. After 8 years he moved to Idaho and continued his law enforcement career, serving as an instructor for the Idaho POST Council.


Ray was first ordained into the ministry while living in Orange County and now serves as the Associate Pastor in his home church in Nampa, Idaho. A former United States Marine, he is a public speaker, communicating to groups of all sizes on the topics of community and personal safety. Since 1999 Ray has been a primary instructor for the Idaho POST Academy – Police Training Institution for Idaho- instructing on subjects of Arrest Control, Cultural Diversity and for the last five years exclusively on the topic of Instructor Development, where he teaches other officers to be POST certified instructors. He is currently serving as the lead sex crimes investigator for the agency where he works. He has been married to the same woman for 27 years and has three children; two sons and a daughter. Ray lives with his family in Idaho.


Ray’s debut novel, a work of urban fiction, N.H.I.: No Humans Involved, was released in March of this year.
You can visit Ray online at www.urbanfictionunleashed.webstarts.com or connect with him on twitter at www.twitter.com/RayEllisNHI or Facebook at www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Ray-Ellis-Author/116322698426928.

Counting Our Blessings Again!

Hurricane Irene blew through here today. We were fortunate not to need the provisions we purchased or the gas powered generator that we couldn't find anywhere. Our area of town is very soggy, but we didn't lose power. Our basement took on some water at one end, and some large branches fell, but that was the worst of it for us.

Other areas of Massachusetts weren't so lucky. Flooding is a major concern right now. The Berkshires took a big hit. Also, the swollen Deerfield River flooded Route 2, which is reportedly closed, as are parts of Route 20 in Westfield.

Our beloved Outer Banks in North Carolina seemed to take the hardest hit from Irene. Nags Head, Kitty Hawk, and Collington got a good beating. Below is a picture that someone posted on the Facebook fan page of Miller's Waterfront Restaurant in Nags Head. Believe it or not, underneath all that water is their parking lot. This is on the sound side of the Outer Banks. They have a pier in the back that leads out to a gazebo where you can watch the sun set. They often have live entertainment outside. There is a mini-golf course nearby, and we often see people on watercraft when we stop by for lunch or supper.

I found this video on CBSNews that shows Irene slamming into Kill Devil Hills: http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=7378522n&tag=mncol;lst;1. We stay in this area when we visit each year. To give you some perspective, this video is taken on Beach Road, which runs parallel to Route 158. These are the houses and business that are closest to the beach. When you cross the bridge into the Outer Banks you start off in Kitty Hawk, then traveling down 158 you end up in Kill Devil Hills, and then Nags Head. So, KDH is sandwiched between two of the harder hit areas of the OBX.

The video opens with a shot of the strip of beach our family plunks down chairs and toys on each summer. At around 35 seconds you can see American Pie Pizza & Homemade Ice Cream on the left. I think we had ice cream there once. At around 2:44 you'll catch a glimpse of the other Miller's Restaurant, which is on Beach Road (actually named South Virginia Dare Trail).  I'm not sure how our friend's house in KDH fared, but we'll check in with him this week.


Our prayers go out to all those affected by Hurricane Irene. Let's hope Mother Nature gives us a break for a bit.

Gearing Up for Hurricane Irene

Hurricane Irene has already been blamed for at least six deaths and leaving around a million people without power along the East Coast. The website for The Weather Channel reports as of about an hour ago that it is feared the Outer Banks will be come isolated from the rest of the state--not surprising if you saw the bridge in and out of the Outer Banks and how even a hard rain floods their roads. In addition, power is out in all of Hatteras and Ocracoke Islands.

Here in Western Mass, and specifically in our town, we sustained damage from a tornado in June and a microburst in July, where we lost power for at least a couple of days each time. We're still in the process of rebuilding, so even though we're not a coastal town, there is concern about widespread power outages and fallen trees and downed power lines.

Everyone impacted by Hurricane Irene remains in our thoughts and prayers. We also hope you'll keep us in yours. I will updated this blog once I am back online--which hopefully, God willing, is tomorrow.

Mystery Special Feature: Merry Acres Widows Waltz by Nan Arnold

They say retirement kills. And it looks that way in MERRY ACRES, a planned community in South Florida for the over-fifty-five crowd. Husbands are dropping fast. Georgiana Duncan wonders who will next wear the black veil of widowhood. Should she be worried....or happy about such dire prospects? Perhaps, like Georgiana, other wives in Merry Acres have secrets, too. Skeletons rattling around personal closets that so mar the gloss of happily-ever-after that only murder can make amends.


Read an excerpt!

I recognized him as that unmarried detective Augusta introduced in the Indian restaurant. I called the waiter over and ordered coffee and the sweet. Maybe I could work up enough nerve to approach the detective about my theory on The Gazette hit and run, and the resent spate of Merry Acres deaths.


When he ordered the salad, I looked in his direction. I glanced his way now and then, but my feet refused to move. Instead, I accidentally emptied an envelope of sugar into the coffee and stirred and stirred. When I put the spoon down, I took a breath, and walked the couple of feet to his booth.

He looked up. “Yes?” His salutation was brief and impatient.

“Hello. I was wondering if I could talk to you a minute about some odd goings on in Merry Acres.”

“I suppose so.” His dark eyes appeared glazed. He blew his red, bulbous nose.

I stood well back. “Cold?”

“Allergies.”

“Melaleuca blossoms?”

He nodded.

“A South Florida curse. For some.”

“Sure are.”

“You don’t remember me, but I was in Punjab Palace a while ago. I was having lunch that day with Augusta St. James of the—”

“I know who she is.” The waiter appeared and held a salad in the air as if uncertain what to do. “Your coffee is getting colder by the minute, and I’m hungry.” He looked at the waiter. “Why don’t you serve me and bring the lady’s coffee and dessert over here. Frees up a table for you, too.”

“Thanks.” I slid into the booth across from him and watched the waiter comply with the man’s directives.

I looked down, averting my gaze when he stabbed a forkful of salad so as to not watch him eat. “I’m sorry to invade your privacy.”

He hitched his shoulders. “How can I help you?”

I felt my neck and face light up in a raging blush that extended to my hairline.

“Relax, the only thing I’m biting today is this salad. The baklava here is good. Eat yours.”

His comment made me a little less nervous so I cut the tip from the diamond shaped sweet and forked a tiny bite, savoring the nuts and flaky phyllo dough. I wiped my mouth with the new napkin the waiter provided. “How much is left on my face?”

“It’s all gone. You’re safe, at least until the next bite.” He winked.

That put me more at ease. “I live in Merry Acres. You know about Mr. Mendez, of course. That business with the tire iron. Well, I was wondering about—”

I stopped talking because the man’s expression changed. He wasn’t kidding around or winking now, that was certain.

“About what?”

“You’ll think I’m crazy, but I was wondering if maybe the recent deaths that looked like natural causes or accidents, and ruled that way, really were…accidents or natural causes.”

“I have no idea which deaths you mean, but nothing on my desk, and I work homicides, pertains to that planned community, except Mendez.”

“I’ll just go.” I felt foolish. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

“Wait a minute. Finish your coffee and dessert.”

Since it was more a command than request, I took another tiny bite. I’d ruined the coffee by adding too much sugar.

“I have a question for you in return. I’m not sure Ms. St. James introduced us, if so, I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

“Mrs. Daniel Duncan. Georgiana.” I actually gulped. This was ridiculous. I was almost a decade older than this guy, but he made me feel as if I were six years old. “What’s your question, officer?”

“You’ve forgotten my name, too. It’s Detective Morgan. Mike Morgan. And, for the record, I hate the name ‘Mikey'. Where’d you hear about a tire iron?” He continued eating.

I stammered. “I-I read it in the papers, didn’t I?”

He put his fork down. He looked hard at me. “No, you didn’t.”

Read the reviews!

"...I enjoyed the witty dialogue and wonderful characterization as much as trying to figure out, who did it."

--Night Owl Reviews

"Well-written, fast-paced, and clever, Merry Acres Widows Waltz is a must-read for anyone who enjoys curling up with a good mystery."

--The Book Chick


PURCHASE MERRY ACRES WIDOWS WALTZ AT AMAZON! ALSO AVAILABLE IN A KINDLE EDITION!

A native Texan, Nan Arnold worked for a life insurance agency and it was here she garnered her first commercial writing success. She created an office procedures manual which the home office issued to all its agencies. For that Nan got a bonus, and the writing bug.



A move to Florida landed her a position as assistant purchasing agent for a petrochemical engineering firm. Later she tried out the other side of the negotiating desk and went to work for a manufacturer's rep-whom she married.


Nan joined Romance Writers Of America and started writing novel-length fiction. Her work finaled in several RWA chapter-sponsored contests as well as back to back finals in The PACIFIC NORTHWEST WRITERS ASSOCIATION’S annual literary competition, adult genre and romance genre respectively. She is published is women’s fiction, romance, and mystery.


Nan, hubby, and cats recently moved to Georgia upon her husband's retirement. Nan is taking a year off from the nine to five life to write full time while doing the "for better, for worse, and for lunch thing".


You can visit Nan online at www.nandarnold.com/.

Book Review: Peter: Rock Star from Galilee

Peter: Rock Star from Galilee is the latest guided Bible study for teens from Sherree Funk.

This eight-week Bible study for teens combines music, Bible learning, and modern-day applications. Each week begins with a playlist of songs that are a mix of contemporary Christian music and traditional hymns. Various aspects of Peter's life are covered: his calling by Jesus, his stepping out onto the stormy sea, his denial of Jesus after His arrest, the miracles he performed in the name of Jesus, his legacy, and more!

Readers get a preview of the week's study to help spark initial discussions. There are questions and exercises along the way. The "Chew on This" moments give teens time to consider things like their blessings, while the "Christian Reality Challenge" blurbs cement learning. The "Jam Session" at the end of each week includes questions to get teens thinking about how the Bible applies to them today. Then the replay wraps the week up for them to round out discussions. Also included are maps and historical photos.

As a Sunday school teacher, I am always on the lookout for engaging new materials for our young people. Peter: Rock Star from Galilee definitely has what it takes. With sound Bible learning and music, this Bible study will meet kids where they are today. I've already shared it with our youth group leader and she's excited about it. If you are in youth ministry, you'll want to take a peek into this one.


Title: Peter: Rock Star from Galilee  
Author: Sherree Funk
Publisher: WinePress Publishing
ISBN-10: 1414119836
ISBN-13: 978-1414119830
SRP:  $16.99
Also available in eformats

The author paid me to promote this book through a virtual book tour with Pump Up Your Book. That fee did not include a review. This review contains my honest opinions, for which I received no monetary compensation.

Guest Blogger: Benjamin Kane Ethridge, Author of Black & Orange

Our special guest today is Benjamin Kane Ethridge, author of the award-winning dark fantasy horror novel, Black & Orange.

Forget everything you know about Halloween. The stories are distortions. They were created to keep the Church of Midnight hidden from the world. Every October 31st a gateway opens to a hostile land of sacrificial magic and chaos. Since the beginning of civilization the Church of Midnight has attempted to open the gateway and unite with its other half, the Church of Morning. Each year they’ve come closer, waiting for the ideal sacrifice to open the gateway permanently. This year that sacrifice has come. And only two can protect it.

Martin and Teresa are the nomads, battle-hardened people who lack identity and are forever road-bound on an endless mission to guard the sacrifice. Their only direction is from notes left from a mysterious person called the Messenger. Endowed with a strange telekinetic power, the nomads will use everything at their disposal to make it through the night alive.


But matters have become even more complicated this year. Teresa has quickly lost ground battling cancer, while Martin has spiraled into a panic over being left alone. His mind may no longer be on the fight when it matters most… because ever on their heels is the insidious physical representation of a united church: Chaplain Cloth.

WHY BOOKLOVERS NEED GOODREADS.COM
by Benjamin Kane Ethridge

I’ve kept track of all the books I’ve read since my late teens. I’ve also assigned ratings to them. Why did I do this? Well, I don’t really know, to tell you the truth. I have no doubt that people are just salivating for the chance to see how I rated their favorite books. Sure they are. Wink.

Nevertheless, I’ve been cataloguing my reads for a number of years. Now I can transfer all that data onto a website-- what’s more, I can also add books to my “to-read” list, and communicate with other readers about books I’ve read or haven’t read. This seems an especially simple concept, but until http://www.goodreads.com/ there really wasn’t a website that did this in a particularly organized fashion, or with a fun interface for that matter. LibraryThing, bless its bookish heart, possesses some of these concepts but looks archaic next to Goodreads. And Amazon, for all its head-start in the book industry, has not made a sociable interface for reviews and discussions, which super-sucks because that’s where we all go to check out the goods. Case in point: I currently have 27 reviews on Goodreads and 9 on Amazon. I know for a fact that most people buy my novel on Amazon, so… huh?

My praise of Goodreads doesn’t mean it’s completely without faults. I’ve experienced glitches here and there, but most are promptly fixed though. I’ve also noticed the home page takes a long time to load. This might be due to my amount of friends on the site or it might not. Either way, it needs to be addressed, and I’m sure it will if the site continues to grow in popularity.

As a social media site, bibliophiles absolutely need to jump onto Goodreads. There’s no real comparison right now. Facebook is a ship too flooded with its own ego to keep afloat on the waters of serious book discussion and exploration. In Zuckerberg’s domain, conversations are not always bright, lengthy or plentiful. Most users would rather opine on whether Sarah Palin is a Queen or a Quack, a series of rhetorical orgasms and battle royales.

I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be discussing why Dan Brown shouldn’t be famous, and why Daniel Quinn should be. If I started a conversation like that on Facebook, I might get a “like” or two, perhaps a comment agreeing or disagreeing, but it would soon drown in a million dribbles of pop culture and media.

So if you’re a literary fiend, go to Goodreads, pick a book and add to the discussion. You’ll soon see where your time is better spent.

Benjamin Kane Ethridge is the Bram Stoker Award winning author of the novel Black & Orange. He also wrote a master's thesis entitled, "Causes of Unease: The Rhetoric of Horror Fiction and Film." Available in an ivory tower near you. Benjamin lives in Southern California with his wife and daughter, both lovely and both worthy of better. When he isn't writing, reading, guitaring, he's defending California's waterways and sewers from pollution. His official web presence is http://www.bkethridge.com/ and you can Facebook him here, www.facebook.com/benjamin.kane.ethridge and Tweet him here, www.twitter.com/#!/bkethridge. He’s on Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/benjaminkaneethridge.