Kiss Me, Evil by Blackie Noir - New Cover, New Character Development, Better Book!

If you’re a knock-around guy like me, live long enough, make it a point to frequent as many places you shouldn’t as possible, you will meet a woman. No, not just a woman. The woman. She will be unique. Different. Very different. Just how different, you won’t find out. Until it’s too late.

Way too late. For me, that woman was Trina. Trina, a force of nature. Not a benevolent, sunny, blue skies, warm spring breeze, force of nature. No, Trina’s force was malevolent. A hurricane, tornado, earthquake, force of nature. Unpredictable as it was uncontrollable. I had two rules for keeping my head above the raging waters of our tumultuous relationship: One . . . don’t fuck with mother nature / Trina. Two . . . if you break rule number one, cross Trina, don’t ever turn your back on her. In retrospect, I should have paid better attention to both those rules.

~~~

Kiss Me, Evil

By Blackie Noir

Blackie comes to visit my Facebook Group, Reviewers Roundup, whenever he's released a new book... And I immediately go out and download from Amazon. This time, however, when he posted Kiss Me, Evil, I didn't realize that it was a new updated version of Open Wound, which I happened to start reading first... Let me say that there is not too much difference in the book itself, so if you, too, have already read the first version, then I don't recommend you get this one...UNLESS

You didn't like the first version. 

One of the things I told Blackie about the first version was that, from a woman's viewpoint, I enjoyed learning to hate Trina before the book made it so plain. However, as you can see from the prologue above, the author points Trina right out there as she really is--a black-hearted greedy bitch... A character that really has no redeeming value, except of course, to hate her... Unless you're Nick or probably any man that enjoys hot-looking babes...

I decided not to endanger my eye.
 I’m not greedy. Unfortunately,
 Trina is. Her picture’s right there,
next to the word in the dictionary.
Things were probably going wrong with
 us long before I decided to retire,
but my quitting the ring?
Well, that was the final straw.
Broke my back, not the camel’s.
~~~

In fact, I was surprised that she even kept her man...from a female point of view...LOL

Nick was a boxer and had finally come into the money... Each of his wins had meant more and more money and Trina began to not only depend upon it, but demand that it was her due... Her true colors were coming out! Now he had a $4M contract on the table, just waiting for his signature. He was on his way to the top! Trina was just waiting for the check!

The trip to the eye doctor made everything change...for Nick...

Not for Trina...

“Hear what he has to say. Get a handle on what we might have to do.” 
“Do? Like what?” 
“I don’t know. He’s the doctor. Surgery maybe. See if it can be fixed.”
 “Whatever. Your decision, not mine.”
“Concerns your well being too.Not much work out there for a one-eyed pug.” 
She turned, started walking toward the bathroom. Over her shoulder,   “Baby, you get home, I want you to Google Harry Greb. That’s G-R-E-B.” 
Greb. An old timer. Middleweight. Fought the best of his era, beat most of them too. Turned out he fought most of those battles with only one good eye. More power to him. Bet he didn’t have an albatross like Trina hanging from his neck either.

Now, I caught her in mid-stride, didn’t touch her. Didn’t have to. I could push her buttons too. Whispers were good. Her name . . .  “ Trina?” 
She stopped, turned. I said,  “Hey babe. The eye? I could end up losing the fucker.”
 Reaching out, she ran a finger down my cheek, grinned, said,   “Honey, that’s why God gave you two.”

~~~

What would you do if your wife wanted you to continue boxing, even if you would lose your eye? Nick left and went looking to get on the road to cool off... His best friend, Trash, kept his bike at his shop so he was on his way, when a "slight" distraction occurred...

A worker, back to me, was swinging a sixteen pound sledge. With authority. Busting up, knocking down, a drywall partition. Tall dude, slender, but with a back corded in lean, ropey, sinew. Arms to match. Wasp waist, disappearing into cut-off jeans. Runners legs. Ass? Not an ass a guy should have. That was my first clue. Ass like that, had to be a woman. I may not be fast, but I am thorough. Stepping closer, squinting through the airborne dust of demolished sheetrock, I spotted the black spaghetti-strings of a bikini top. Suspicion confirmed, curiosity partially sated, but my investigation by no means complete, I decided to let Trash find me. I watched the woman wield the sledgehammer with strong, rhythmic, strokes, her back rippling, streaked with sweat and plaster dust, her round ass-cheeks clenching and unclenching with every powerful swing. How long I stood there, mesmerized, I don’t have a clue. Could’ve been a minute...

I took inventory as, holding her sledge near the head in her right hand, she moved toward me. Lot of slink in that walk, and it worked well for her. I figured by the cut of her jet hair, now lying wet and limp on her skull, that its normal posture would be standing at attention in spikes, green highlighted tips in sharp salute. I counted five piercings, but she was moving in quickly and there was so much more for me to check out. Tattoos. She had fewer than Trash, but more than my two. The one that caught my attention: zigzag of a green lightning bolt cutting a jagged path from the golden hoop in her navel to mid-sternum where a small dragon clawed and writhed, fire shooting from its nostrils. Her bikini top, strings and a couple of scraps of black cloth, wasn’t much, but it managed to cover the perfect pears that were her breasts. Almost. Her cut-offs; worn, ragged, and soiled, came by their dilapidated look honestly. They weren’t store-bought 200 dollar ‘distressed’ fashion statements. Like I said, she had runner’s legs, with a fine pair of diamond-shaped calves cresting the tops of a pair of lace-up work boots, old and battered as my own. Three feet from me when she stopped. Me, I stood rooted, and marveled...

She wiped her forehead with the back of her arm, pulled her bandanna down, said, “Help you?”
“I’m here with Trash.”
 “All right.”
She smiled, tooth missing, left side, incisor. Squatting, she laid her sledge on the concrete. The move brought her face level with my groin, mouth a foot from my crotch. Green eyes, pools of danger-laden promise, angled up, locking on mine. Still smiling, she said,  “You like me. A lot.”

~~~

Her name? Does it matter? She had caught Nick's attention. She was the first woman that had dragged his eyes away from his wife... And he was just about ready to say goodbye greedy Trina...

And then the blood started flowing...Lots of it!

If you enjoy hard-boiled blood and guts, where payback is the only thing going--unless it is killing for revenge or money, Blackie Noir has his main character stepping up to the plate to deal with those who feel his money should be their money...no matter what Hell Nick went through to get t!

Personally, I still liked the first version as much or more than the final. But there really is no doubt about it, This book is written better. "Blackie Noir" at his finest... But I'd still rather have had a different ending, romantic that I am...LOL!


GABixlerReviews 


This book is a perfect example of evaluating audience and making choices to change...

Specifically, Blackie had written Open Wound first, with early feedback making him reconsider this book. The book is essentially the same story. Character development of the two lead characters was significantly revised, however. This changed the tone, the vibe of the book into a much more hard-core, macho type of story.

From my standpoint, because of this change, I chose to play up some of the "crap" spouted by Trina at the time Nick was worried about losing his eye, while in the earlier version, there was a need to allow readers to discover Trina's evil through reading the book. Remember, we thought Nick was just a wimp and allowed his wife to rule the roost... It was clear in this latest book, that Nick was making constant decisions about whether it was worth staying in the relationship. But he still, at that point, had never met a woman who had attracted him as much as Trina.

Many writers claim that they write what they want to write. Well, sure, of course, you should... But, if you want to share that book with others--i.e., if you want to sell your book, then, in my opinion, it is part of the writer's work to determine if and who is the audience... and adapt! There's nothing wrong with wanting to sell your books. If something can be done to help in that marketing, then do what you can to revise it for your intended audience, while still meeting your personal standards for your story/writing.

Thanks to Blackie for allowing me to use the work he'd already done to change his book. Let's face it, When we see your pic, we just don't believe that your main male characters would ever be a wimp! Can you blame us? You have done an outstanding job to revise this book in such a way that it is bound to grab both men and women fans wanting to meet Evil Trina! 

http://menreadingbooks.blogspot.com/2013/10/kiss-me-evil-by-blackie-noir.html

Does 100 5* Rankings Mean A Great Book? Let's Talk About Audience; Content Open Feedback to Author John Borgstedt, A JMPO Response!

My mother was a tall woman, over six
feet in height, and slender. My father was
 a bit shorter, but he was a stout-built,
 powerful man with a temper. Within
 a short time after my arrival into their
 world, they made it very clear that my
 conception was an accident and a
regrettable
 mistake. Alcohol and drug abuse by my
 mother during pregnancy created a pre-
maturely born and jaundiced infant
 with severe bouts of the colic. Thus, from
 the moment of my birth, my destiny lay
 in the hands of an angry, deceitful, and
 dangerous mother void
of maternal love for me.
~~~

I honestly don't remember how I learned of this book, and went out and bought it... But instead of posting a review, I am sharing my thoughts here as part of my thoughts on what a book should include...

Frankly this book sounds like what I might have written right after I went on medical leave for job burnout. incomplete and directionless...

It does provide a chronology of events, which I "want" to believe are true (or else it is a scam of some sort???)

The writer includes a statement that he has just finished his autobiography.

No, in my opinion, he did not...

I am willing to call it an outline, a chronology, a listing of time/places of his life... but not a finished book...

As soon as I read it, I went out searching for more and found enough that I thought this was a true story, just not done well...

But this book already has 100 5* rankings on Amazon. Unfortunately, I agreed with the low votes this time! 

Now, since the book was published, there have been additional things done in support of the book. But that doesn't change the book, does it?

And it doesn't mean that 100 people were right to give it a 5 rating... Let's be fair about this...

The author said it is an autobiography. I've already said what I would call it...but there are some additional comments besides a listing... that allows empathy or, should I really say, sympathy...

But my question to the author: Who is your audience? Christians? Peers? Children being Abused?

And what is your purpose in Writing? Essentially, you've written what you call an autobiography and it includes an accounting of a miracle you experienced...

Soooo... Some Christians probably praise it, right?

What will peers say? How about, Yeah, right! What will children being abused say? Yeah, right!

What you have said to your audience, in my opinion, is that you went through over 20 years of Hell before God saved you and set you free...

Does that mean that every peer, every child being abused must pray and expect a miracle? I will say to you, having been abused as a child... Yeah, right!

Upon completion of tests and evaluations, the results stunned the prosecuting attorneys.

 “John Borgstedt is not mentally capable of withstanding a trial.” 

“What?” the attorney gasped.

 “What do you mean ‘not mentally capable of withstanding trial’?

 He didn’t have any problems here!” 

“Well,” the doctor said slowly, “that is confidential between doctor and patient. But, if you want to take him to trial, I guarantee with one hundred percent accuracy, he is not competent to stand trial.” The diagnosis of “incompetent to stand trial” translated into eminent release from Vernon State Hospital due to the statute of limitations running out. Thus, soon an assistant to the District Attorney arrived. His demeanor was friendly and straight to the point. “Look,” he said quietly, “This is what we’re willing to do. Five years incarceration in the state penitentiary.”

 “No,” I replied. My defense attorney, summoned to explain the benefits in this offer, sat down beside me. 

“ohn,” he said. “I think you better take the five years the state has offered. You will go to prison, but your time in jail up to this point will count as time already served.”

~~~

One evening a staff member jumped on me, and I was badly beaten. Conditioned to receiving physical pain and abuse from early childhood to now, the beating did not seem out of the ordinary. However, his arrest and jail sentence surprised me. For me, harsh physical punishment was just a way of life. Following that incident, I received extra special attention to quell any threats of lawsuit. They did not realize that, for me, the beating was normal living conditions and lawsuit was not in my vocabulary!

~~~

...From jailhouse orange jumpsuits to prison whites and hands and feet shackled around the waist, forewarned me of things to come. Only then did they lead us to the bus for the trip to the prison. Even the transporting of prisoners was different then any I had experienced before. The only sound was the rustle of chains as we got on the bus and sat down. No one spoke. No one moved. Similar to the quiet before a raging storm, silence hung in the air like a death sentence over the busload of convicts. The bus stayed off main highways, rather taking back roads every mile of the way.  

Texas Department of Corrections John Borgstedt TDCJ ID# 837915  

Unlike most, I was already conditioned in survival training, as we became the property of the Texas Department of Corrections. Similar to a tortured animal...

~~~

As you can see, there have been activities, including the one above, since John wrote his first book. Should he keep selling, marketing that book, as is? Well, sure, if he wants to give his testimony to church people around the world.

But what about his Peers, Those Children Being Abused, Atheists, Street kids...and all the other children who have similarly been hurt by people who are supposed to be responsible? What about those who are already dead and will never have heard a word of love...

If you, the writer, doesn't keep your audience in mind, what difference does it make if thousands of Christians buy your book, put it on their shelf, and exclaim about the miracle that occurred to this nice young man...

I don't plan on posting a review on this book...so I'm quite willing to say, this is Just My Personal Opinion...

I have seen and known when children have been taken away from parents on less than what John experienced... I find it hard to believe that in over 20 years, not one professional social worker, doctor, nurse, or law officer did not question what had been physically done by the parents to John. If there were such people, why not include them in the book and the results???

When a psychiatrist was told John's story, he declared him incompetent...I find it hard to believe that the lawyers involved did not pursue his incompetency ruling and discover what had happened to John...

Believing in God forces me to question Why? Would God allow a child to be punished for over 20 years just to then perform a miracle?

Does God plan to continue performing miracles for all the millions of other children who have been abused? I really don't think this is going to happen, even though I'd be praising God if He did...

John, I think you must reconsider your story. If not one single person attempted to help you during your life who could help, must we believe that the entire system is so corrupted that this would happen to others, probably right now?

Why wasn't your grandmother able to be heard and what she said acted upon?

Do you really, right now, after the brilliance of love came to you during the miracle, still forgive and have no intent to try to deal with what happened to you legally? Why? Who is going to hear you? Who are you speaking to? Those children who are abused in silence by parents who tell them not to tell, who don't even have bruises to prove their sexual abuse until through an examination...what good will your book do if they never read anything else but that it takes a miracle... Can they also be filled with God's love and never want justice for what happened to them?

What happened to your sister? Did she not talk to anyone to try to get you out of the endless cycle? 

John, you shared your own feelings and we felt your pain. But sympathizing or, even, empathizing is an insufficient, very lacking end to your story, in my opinion. I believe in miracles...but I believe in justice and efforts to end and/or legally ensure those who are part of these acts are punished...

Who is the audience for your content as written? I would never be part of the 100 or more that gives this book a ranking of 5... But that's Just My Personal Opinion, of Course...

Now, a final thought that came to mind? Have you asked God about what He wanted you to write? Is this His desired response for giving you His miracle... These don't feel like my thoughts, but I won't say they are a message from Him... Or, maybe...

               

Looking at the Self-Published Nonfiction Book From The Reader's Side...JMPOOC! Know Your Audience...

When I recently went out to find pics of David Copperfield, there were many different versions that popped up... Of course, this book has been published and republished many times over the years...

But what about those books that have been self-published or put into book format by a press? Even though most authors know it these days, there are still new, unsuspecting writers who, having their manuscripts ready, routinely begin to submit for a publisher's consideration.

Perhaps your book was rejected and you decided to self-published...

Recently I've received several books that should never have been published. It wasn't because the topic was not something that might be worth being available as a book... yet they immediately were questionable in my mind... Who am I? Nobody really... But, somehow, when a book comes to a reviewer, there is an expectation by the writer...

Is it good or bad...Tell me what you think, please... What should I do now that you refuse to read my book? Tell me what I need to do to make it work...

I'm sorry, but it is way too late to ask that question to a reviewer..

If you have self-published and have little or no experience in the publishing area, this is my response from a reviewer's standpoint...

I should not be your first reader... In fact, most books that are published are routinely read and reread long before the book comes for a review... Now, even Advanced Reading Copies are distributed months ahead in order to ensure the content is what they want to finally put out. If you are self-publishing, this still needs to happen...

Let me give an example, I recently received a 500+ double-spaced book [a ream of paper]. It was very cumbersome to even pick up. When I opened it, it looked like a dissertation. From my many years of working with students, I know the format requirements, layout, etc. However, it was not a dissertation. It was exactly as intended by the writer as his book.

When you decide to write a non-fiction book, there are many ways and many genres into which such material can be placed. Is it self-help? Is it a substantive work based upon research? Is it based upon your own knowledge and experience?

In my opinion, each of these would require a different approach...because now your information is going to be presented to others. And it is the reader who decides whether that information is valuable to their life, is something that provides guidance, or a way they can help themselves, using your own experience. Or have you done much research and reading yourself, compiled it and then, most importantly, presented it in a logical format for digestion by readers.

A weighty issue must be able to be read by the lay person if that is your audience...

Take for instance the topic of Government--

Automatically, we would normally merge this with out thoughts on politics. And, for somebody like me, we may have already formed our own opinion. Mine is simple. Government is too bureaucratic, cannot possibly be efficient and effective, and, indeed, proves that to be true on an ongoing basis.

Whether someone agrees or disagrees makes a difference in your presentation. How are you going to convince me?

Well, I can guarantee you that it won't be by writing a 500+-page book that you expect people to buy.

If you have a controversial topic, see if they are willing to read a synopsis of your book. Don't have a synopsis? That's your first problem. If you cannot tell me what the book is about within one or two pages, don't expect to be able to market your book.

Once a synopsis has been created and you've asked a small group of people, including those who do not agree with your position, to read it, what is the result? If you get all positive responses, then you probably need to seek out other readers. If you get all negative responses, then you might just have your answer...your book will not have an audience--it will not sell...

One way that you might consider is starting a blog and talking about your topic. Publicize your blog and ask people to follow you. If you are not getting followers, change the tone of your blog. Say, instead of an "I believe" blog, you might consider a "This is what I'm thinking, what do you think or feel about it? Again, if you don't get anybody interested in your topic, then you don't have an audience for your book.

By the way, if your topic is controversial, weighty, or arbitrarily presented on your part, you can believe somebody else has already written about it...

How does your book compare to others already written? Is your material unique, innovative, and are you able to explain why it is different than these other books? And you need to let the reader of your book know what books you've used to come to your conclusions.

Know what audience you are trying to reach? Are you able to get that book to that audience? What is your plan of action to do so?

Let me close this article by sharing about my own book. It's title is Emotional Damages...

That's as far as I got with it although I've started often, created draft sections... The issue was and still is that my job burnout evolved over years and the issues and presentation was potentially so broad that I couldn't figure out how to do a self-help since my experiences could have been very unique.

On the other hand, many people are being asked to handle more duties and responsibilities without a fair and equitable evaluation whether that individual can physically perform those duties...there was no manual on "time requirements" for administrative type positions that I could find. Therefore, I could not provide quantitative analyses that I and my staff were being asked to handle too much, without the staffing required. [Research]

Finally, my own feelings were personal, angry and, by that time, unprofessional. I could see only my viewpoint in relation to what happened. How could I explain it to somebody else in a logical, helpful methodology?

Your nonfiction book might be a valuable, best-seller...but you've got to ensure that an audience is out there... and that your material is presented in such a way that the individuals without your knowledge and experience can read and understand it sufficiently to be of help...to that individual reader... If your book, just as in fiction, does not hook your reader, it's not going to sell.

Tomorrow, I'll be talking about another book that is doing well, but...

Comments, thoughts, contradictions, opinions are alllll welcome! Because...

This is Just My Personal Opinion, Of Course!

A Poetic Short Story - B-17 Preflight... by Adolfo!

 B-17 PREFLIGHT

By Adolfo...






I
There is no dreaming
In the world of Sigmund Freud,
Only dreams interpreted

By pseudos
And other psychiatrists
Devoted to fulfill
The gullibility of those
Finding answers in dreams
As though Life were a dream
And vice-versa,

The truth being
That without dreaming,
There'd be no dreams
And,
Only death instead of life
With no continuity
From the conscious to the unconscious
Of our existence,
Dreaming being only
A chemistry without biology!

II
In the third phase of preparing 
The B-Seventeen for another flight,
This young couple stood by--
Hardly looking at the aged bomber
Being prepared for a spcial flight
(A payload of human cargo)--

As they embraced and kissed,
In a world of their own
Free of war machines
Or battles with killing fields,
Enraptured in their kisses
In a harmonious correspondence,
Broken by yours truly:

"Wearing a Harvard shirt?"
"Yes!" he said, surprised
By the intrusion.--
The young woman with almond eyes
Staring at him adoringly
In complete silence
And following each of his syllables
From his gleeful mouth,

And not one single glance for me!

"Adolfo! Margherita called
From the head of the group
Under engine number four;
And in no time
We moved into phase four.

III

Wondrous dreaming was never better

That night,

Invigorated by the whirling fan

Infusing the air

With human spirits

Caressing our skin

In re-generating

Our bodies at resting positions

Unaware of our dreaming.

The commanding look 

Of the almond-eyed girl,

Her mouth touching mine,

and the immediate compulsive:

"I love you!"

Words out of my mouth

By a spirit or siren--

Not my own!

She moved her lips to mine

And to a sudden awakening.

Unexpectedly astir,

I moved my hand to Margherita.

I fell into

Her bountiful arms,

And love-making

Was never as sweet

As it was blissful

Especially now

At seventy-four!

!!!

!Hey This was Adolfo's Dream Not Mine--I had to substitute!

!Besides I've never even met them--Discretion Seemed to Be the Right Choice!

Used by permission from Adolfo

   AND Margherita

This is a selection from

Water and Life:

Photos and Poems

By Adolph Caso

Dark, Sexy Noir Heightens Tension in Latest Novel Open Wound by Blackie Noir!

1. Attention: Just got word that this book has been revised and updated and expanded... I already had that book as well so since I'm a fan of Blackie... I'll be reading it and will update this review... ASAP... GB  Kiss Me Evil is the new title so if you want to go ahead and get it...make sure it is the latest!
2. 
   
3. 
   Noir fiction is a literary genre closely related to hardboiled genre with a distinction that the protagonist is not a detective, but instead either a victim, a suspect, or a perpetrator. Other common characteristics include the self-destructive qualities of the protagonist. ...
   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Noir_fiction
4. 
   

Trash had always said I was a mark, I guess somewhere down the line it was inevitable he would feel that it was up to him to prove it. Well, prove it he had. In spades.

~

Yet, Trina’s recent behavior gave me the mind-set, the fortitude, the fucking balls, to resist this most transparent, yet powerful, ploy. Fuck being a mark, I was through. Of course, having the insatiable Roxi waiting in the wings had a lot to do with my new-found resilience. It felt good when I shook my head, said, “Uh-uh. I’ll pass.”

~

Sad as I felt; and I did want to reach out, console Roxi, the singer, womanhood in general, there was another, stronger, reaction. I wanted to lash out, crush and maim, kill the motherfuckers responsible for that kind of pain and agony. What did that make me? Some dipshit with a Lancelot complex? Or, was I just another violence prone psycho? Or, and most disturbing to me, was I, as Trash had said, simply a mark. A stone sucker for a sob story.

~

“You fucking pussy. You got nothing left. You used to be down, Nicky. Had a set of balls on you man . . . Now? Shit. You’re worse than a mark, Nicky. You’re nothing. I don’t even know you.”

~~~

Open Wound

By Blackie Noir

So why did I start with the definition of Noir? Well, I've been somewhat unclear when I've read earlier novels by Blackie Noir. More Neo-Noir? So Blackie, I have to say that, with this novel, you've made it perfectly clear! And have created a true Noir novel, as defined by the experts, in my opinion. Wow! Whew! And Lots More of those emotional reactions!!!

Take for instance, the main character. Does he fit the definition? You bet! He's a victim and definitely self-destructive...

I liked him a lot...

But probably not for why you think...  I thought it was a perfect individual to star in this noir novel... But I also saw that he was indeed a mark... But he knew it, I think, and really didn't want to change.

The ending was perfect for me and I'll tell you why if you've read it and don't understand it...

The brass plate on his door read, Dr. Isaac Rosen. “Ike” to me. For over fifteen years Ike had tended to my basic medical needs. Trina’s too. He also did work above the norm, things related to my profession. On the two occasions I had sustained serious cuts, Ike had been the one who did the suturing. On things beyond the median he sought out, and referred me to, experts, the best in their specialties. Things like the surgeries to repair my right hand. Things, like the problem with my retina.

“You know Nick, Katrina . . . ? 
Well, you really are a lucky man.” 
“Right. Wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.” 
He pointed at me.  “Don’t. That kind of talk makes you sound like a ‘fool’s luck’ recipient.” 
“Fool’s luck?”
“Yes, such as a fellow who has it all; wonderful wife, excellent health, respect of his peers, yet is too ignorant to appreciate his good fortune.”
 “Tell me something, Ike. This good fortune of mine, does it extend to the condition of my eye?” Smiling, he said,     
“As a matter of fact it does.”

~~~

 Nick has a multi-million dollar contract on the table, waiting for him to sign, when he's told that he will need to have surgery on his eye and he'll never be able to box again... After the anger, curses, and options are considered, he recognizes he has no choice...

The surprising thing is that he's more afraid to tell his wife, than to accept his future life...

Whether it was lust or love, Nick accepted his wife as she was--greedy. So he automatically feared that he would lose her when he was no longer making big money...

Which was true..

Her response was to tell him to go ahead with the fight and possibly lose his eye, and then afterwards have the surgery... Needless to say that even though he had been prepared, he was still crushed...

And let's face it, it was clear she had married him for his money... Now she was giving him an ultimatum. Fight or flight, for her! 

At times like this, he had to get out and get some air... Trash had been a friend for many year and kept his bike in his shop...

But when he arrived, there was somebody else who was working...And Nick liked what he saw! So did Roxi...

Still smiling, she reached out, touched my swollen cock, began to gently knead it through my jeans. Talk about a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi. The jade heat of her eyes was reducing me to roadkill. The firm even pressure of her fingers turning back the clock to the fevered released of a twelve-year-old boy at the hand of his first girlfriend. 
Trash's voice brought the time-machine to a screeching halt.     
"Roxi! What the fuck are you doing?"
The girl broke eye contact, dropped her hand, stood up. I took a few steps back, began breathing again. 
Trash grinned, "Fuck is that all about?"
Roxi grinned back, "Making me a new friend."
"Oh. That how you do it? 'hi my name is Roxi. How bout I such your dick, get acquainted?' That the proper etiquette?
"I wasn't sucking his dick." She looked at me, winked. "Yet."
"Yeah, well, I ain't paying you to suck his dick, shine his shoes, or whatever else you were doing down there. Besides, you're way late. Nick here is taken." 
Roxi stepped over to me, touched my nipple with her fingertip. I stepped back, she followed, wrapped both of her hands around my bicep. Squeezing, she said, "Taken? Maybe before me. Now? Looks ripe and read." 
Trash lit up, laughed, blowing smoke at us, "Shit. Give it a rest. Rox.

~~~

Roxi made it quite clear that she thought she could pull Nick away from his present lover. She was right. Thing was that she was different from his wife. She'd invited him to dinner, made at her home and Nick began to see what it would be like to be with somebody as a partner rather than a wallet...

Too bad that she had already made a deal that was sure to screw Nick over... But when they kept seeing each other, she confessed to Nick...

It seemed clear to me that money was not a big deal with Nick, except as it represented how much effort, work and pain had been involved in his getting it. But as things moved forward, he began to realize that none of his supposed close friends were able to be trusted--when his money was part of the equation!

Lots of sex, violence, and action in this novel, so if you don't want to read similar to what is here, please don't buy it... Some of the twists were given to readers, others were nasty to contemplate for Nick as well as we who are reading!

It seemed to me that Nick might have been an easy mark, but when it came down to how the individuals involved were treating him, in return, then he could become the aggressor. It also seemed sad to me, that, as a boxer, violence was more a part of the lives of others than the one who was fighting and winning to earn his money... 

For me, the novel was true to the genre... while the main character was...true to himself. An Excellent blend by the author! Enjoy...if you dare...


GABixlerReviews

Decades ago Raymond Chandler taught me the only French word I know . . . 'noir.'
Ever since, I've been jonesing for dark, hard-boiled, pulp style, crime fiction. From the genre's original innovators: Chandler, Hammett , Cain . . . to today's neo-noir stalwarts: J. L. Burke, Connelly, Pelecanos, Leonard, Teran, Lehane, et al.
Call me voracious. I devoured their work. Inhaled the dark smoke permeated ambiance where it all played out.
I read, and continue to read, them all.
It was while reading the newcomers, the young turks, that I decided . . . reading was no longer enough. I had my own tales to tell. Characters that kept nagging at me, urging me, beseeching me, demanding that I bring them to the page. Those who have met them through my work know . . . these are not gentle folk. Their petitions aren't meant to be taken lightly. So, in an attempt to appease those raucous demons, I sat down in 2000 and began my first novel . . . "Freeway Pigeons."
I completed "Freeway Pigeons" in 2001. That was the opening of a mysterious and magical door. Just what was behind that door? Lady, or tiger? Funny, I'm still not certain. Still, I wouldn't change things. I'd cross that threshold again in a heartbeat . . . undaunted. And why not, I've been blessed with a cornucopia of encouragement.
Who encouraged me?
Every writer, genius or plodder . . . visionary or hack, who ever made me laugh or cry, rage or sigh, become more aware or escape the doldrums. Every scribe, word-weaver or poet who had my heart trying to bang its way out of my chest or sing with the angels.
All of them. Man or woman, fresh or ancient, who moved me emotionally. Entertained and educated me. Kept long and sometimes lonely vigils with me. Gave me the unmitigated joy of a good read. THEY encouraged me . . . every last one.
I owe them.
I believe the best way I can repay that debt is through you, you the readers.
If I can deliver the joy, the escape, the spiritual catharsis of the coveted 'good read' to you, then at least a part of my debt has been paid.
* * *
Standard bio stuff: Started life on the cold coast (N.Y.C.) wended my way west to the land of sunshine, surf, and strange (L.A.).
Interests: Books. Books! Books!! Books!!! BOOKS !!!!!
Other interests: Music (as played / sung by others). Movies. Physical activities (running, free-weights, hiking). BIKES! (Harleys & old-Triumphs).
Bottom line: Family. (what it's all about)
*

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David Callinan's Short, One False Move, Excellent Intro to...The Monk!

"Now to business. If he is not already with you watching this then please inform the one they call the Monk that his presence is requested.   The Monk, or should I say more correctly Mike Delaney, will find clues to this location in this video. Mr Delaney, you have until six o'clock tonight to find your way here alone and unarmed and substitute yourself for your friend. It's that simple. You must offer your life in exchange for Bob Messenger , a family man, remember? Bob Messenger will be set free as soon as you arrive and give yourself up to your fate. One second late and Bob Messenger will never go to the ball," he said with a snigger. "because he will be chargrilled. And Pandora will be forced to watch. Very unpleasant for a fifteen year old, don't you think?" 

And Delaney, a trained assassin and veteran of so many bruising fighting contests in the South-East Asia games, had vowed never to kill again, unless forced to, when he joined the Brothers of Light, an esoteric order of monks. 
The slow motion images on the computer played across Delaney's cerebral cortex as he allowed his subconscious free rein. He stopped. He zoomed in onto a section of wooden wall...behind the power supply box and cabling. The wooden planks that made up the structure of the building were cracked and warped. One of the cracks was wider than the others, wide enough to allow a glimpse of the view outside. Delaney's heart began to beat faster as he strained his twenty-twenty vision to form an image. A ferris wheel...
~~~

One False Move

By David Callinan

This short was fun for me...I've read all of Callinan's thrillers and especially enjoyed his character, The Monk. I also enjoyed the concept of an online site called Confess-Confess where anybody who has information and an interest can get involved in solving crimes--or something like that! LOL I haven't really contacted the group yet...

But because of the site, The Monk began to get quite a reputation and also helped to put a "few" guys behind bars, or...elsewhere. Now one of those individuals from his past has chosen to kidnap two individuals--his boss and close friend and his daughter...

Gripping the level casually was a figure Delaney
recognised instantly. The curved nose with a glint of a
dewdrop projected from a pallid, saturnine face
 carved from limestone. The hair was thinner and the bent
shoulders  more pronounced but Delaney would have
recognised Julius Schipp in the midst of a ball game.
'Julius Schipp," Delaney muttered.
"You know him?" growled John Farrell. 
"Before your time at the site," said Delaney.
 "Julius Schipp groomed and abducted very
 young girls. He got what he deserved." 
"Of course. Now I remember. You played your part,"
 said Laura. "So did Bob. He wasn't too pleased
 with the Monk or confess-confess. 
We caught him with his pants around his ankles.
 At his height he ran a sophisticated 
sex abduction ring. He got ten years
 five years ago. 
Many of the girls have never been found."
~~~

Now, I'm one of the lucky ones who signed up for information from Callinan, so I quickly ran out to download a copy free, which is already over for this time, but I did want to take the time to let you all know that this little action-packed story is well worth your consideration... And if you haven't read him yet, he's included an excerpt from his books for you to review...

Now the Monk is a special character. His background might have been a little muddy, but he became involved with the Brothers of Light, sampling all that they could teach him...  and has now turned to "the Light" in handling his actions. 

But that doesn't say he won't take care of business when he has too.

And Bob Messenger being kidnapped ensures he will definitely mean business. Once they realized that it was Julius Schipp, who groomed
and abducted very young girls, they were even more concerned since he had not indicated Pandora would be returned, along with her father!

The Monk left, knowing Bob and he had one
secret weapon if they could work it out to use...

Martial arts and plain old street fighting gets the job done, right? Well, you'll have to read the whole story to find out what happens!

I loved it! Highly recommended if you haven't already read Callinan. It's enough to whet your interest, and does give you a complete scene for your enjoyment. Callinan writes from England so expect some spelling issues as you would see in other British novels...

I'm not sure the price is right; however, I don't know how those are set... I did see that one reviewer indicated that it was the same as the Immortality Plot which, in my opinion, is incorrect. The villain is different, the plot is different and the only thing I saw was a reintroduction of the series characters which is routinely provided by authors, who realize that not every reader will be reading the whole series... I've included the link to that book below if you want to check it out... Note that the villain was not caught while the one in the short story was but had gotten out of prison...

You know, sometimes I don't understand how/why people read... I must be seeing something or getting something out of the stories I read that others aren't... So, please recognize that, for me, other than the questionable price for a short...this is a new story, one worth your consideration...

Or, hey, read the novel and don't bother with this intro... Either way, this short doesn't deserve a low ranking in my opinion... 

But I do have a comment for the author...Yes, I think you should definitely consider a sequel to the Immortality Plot...we need to know what happened to The Priest, don't you think? A Short or Novella would suffice for this fan...LOL


GABixlerReviews

As the first heavy ran at him head down, Delaney side stepped, crouched and delivered a Tai Chi thunder punch to the solar plexus. The man dropped to his knees.
 Delaney picked up an old piece of sacking as the second man came at him with the chainsaw chain. He feinted to his left then struck with his right heel into his opponent's kneecap which snapped with a satisfying crunch. He grabbed the chain using the sack for protection but was lifted off his feet in a bear hug. He relaxed then drove his head backwards into the man's nose.
~~~

I have written thrillers, YA fantasy and children's books, as well as some non-fiction and TV/film screenplays. My new Mike Delaney thriller featuring the ex assassin turned Hong Kong Police turned esoteric monk is 'The immortality Plot'.  'Bodyswitch' is a dark paranormal chiller featuring a multi-racial split personality. 'Knife Edge' is more Clive Barker meets Thomas Harris and 'An Angel On My Shoulder' is a spiritual adventure/thriller.

'The Kingdoms Of Time And Space' is a YA fantasy the blends leading edge science with magic, angels with artificial intelligence and the reversal of climate change, as well as fantastical creatures called nanosaurs.

I have also written the first in a chapter book series for children (6-10) called 'The Weather Kids'.

Please note that selected pictures do not correlate to The Monk's

actual training, since it has not been covered in this story...


http://gabixlerreviews-bookreadersheaven.blogspot.com/2012/06/callinans-new-seriesmain-character-is.html

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Wendell Black, M.D. by Gerald Imber Coming 2-11-14 Spotlights Important Contributions of Police Surgeons...

 I had the feeling I was getting set up, but I answered seriously. "Well, I'm not sure what's in the report. It was the usual failed resuscitation. She was agitate, and then she tanked. There was a rapid, thready pulse before her pressure dropped through the floor and she flatlined. Two unusual things, though, pinpoint pupils and bilateral inframammary dressing, like from breast implants. Could be an OD, but otherwise I'm in the dark. Did I miss something?"
"You got most of the fine points, but perhaps you didn't notice that she is a he."
As my face reddened, I could imagine the assistant MEs around the chief getting ready for the big laugh. "Shit. Don't tell me that. Why do you have that?"

What can you say when you feel like a fool. There was no
reason to pull her...his pants down during CPR, but still I felt well beyond foolish. I said nothing. Defending myself would feed the laughter. I could already hear over the speaker. I suffered through ten or fifteen seconds of snickers until Benson spoke again.
"You were half-right, at least."
"What does that mean?"
"Your patient was a genetic and partially anatomic male with a normal penis and almost no body hair. His testicles have been surgically removed. You were right about the breast implants, three hundred cc silicone bags, but then it gets strange..."
The deceased was definitely a man, and it wouldn't have shocked me if Benson and company had tied a ribbon around his organ, but they'd resisted...

~~~

Wendell Black, M.D.

By Gerald Imber

I don't know about you, but if I had been giving CPR to a body with breasts, I would never have considered that it might be a man... and that he might have both breasts and a penis...in transition. So the fact that Police Surgeon Wendell Black didn't immediately identify the body as a male, in my opinion, was not his fault... even the scars under the breasts would not have been evidence of which sex...

A 19-year-old transgender patient...
Close examination of Azul Capinpin's face--
that was the name on his passport--
showed no evidence of a beard. 
His cheeks were smooth and free of the telltale
 enlarged pores where hairs had been removed. 
These days laser hair removal does the job
 without the ugly side effects of electrolysis.
 This was smooth, female looking skin. 
There were traces of hair follicles on the
 upper lip that had previously been hidden
 by makeup. The body was clean. No hair. 
The pubis had been shaved, or waxed, 
or lasered clean. The rest of the
 body was hairless as well...Benson talked me
 through his findings, and doctor or not, 
I would have missed the boat. The
 distribution of body fat was feminine,
with a fairly soft belly and hips. 
Even without the implants, which
had been removed to a stainless-steel pan
 hanging from a scale over the table, 
there were hints of breasts.
~~~

Breast augmentation: cross-sectional
schemes of a subglandular breast prosthesis
 implantation (1) and of a submuscular
 breast prosthesis implantation (2).
 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)"And last, the implant pockets." Here Benson
insisted we move in closely to see the smooth, lined
pocket between the underside of the breast and the
muscles of the chest wall. Benson had separated
the skin and breast along the sternum and folded it
back for observation. "This smooth capsule is
something the modern pathologist has seen a
thousand times; our colleagues of a few generations
ago would have no idea what of make of it. Under
the microscope the white lining you see is made up
of a thin fibrous tissue layer spotted with foreign-
body giant cells and silicone residue. It effectively
separates the implants from the body. That's its
job. It develops quickly and matures over time.
Take the implants out and after a time it
disappears or at least dissipates, but as long as
implants are in-situ, it remains."
"What are you telling me?" I asked, pointing
to the tissue scale alongside of the autopsy table.
"Maybe."
"Maybe? Maybe what?"
"Maybe there were there all the while, and maybe
they had been replaced. The old capsule and the
new scar don't go together..."
~~~

I don't mind telling you that this was a disturbing book in relation to the breast implants. Whether or not an individual chooses to have such surgery is, in my opinion, a very personal and private decision. However, as with so much of today's world, what the thrust of this thriller reveals is that, if there is a way to make money on personal desires, somebody is going to do it!

But Wendell Black, NYPD Police Surgeon had fallen into a situation he'd never have been able to imagine. Coming back home during a very rough flight had led something even worse... He was just beginning to settle back when the plane had smoothed out when they asked for a doctor if on flight. Remembering that one time he had even got lucky enough to end up with someone nice with whom he spent a few months, he stood up and identified himself.  

The attendant explained what had happened and eased a wet towel from the woman's eyes...her young face with a broad, high forehead, and flaring cheekbones, was pale--"a kind of odd, pasty look of pigmented skin gone white." Breaths were shallow and rapid, barely enough to keep her alive. They tried oxygen first.  And continued to work on her, but the individual didn't make it...

There wasn't any reason for Dr. Black to have recognized the cause of death...

But once the investigation started, and the autopsy completed, not only did they discover that the man was in the process of transgender change,
the implants had contained drugs!

And then Dr. Black got deeply involved through his surgeon lover anmeeting Dr. Farzan Byarshan, a plastic surgeon, socially, and then privately. Farzan explained that he thought he knew something about the person who had died on the plane...

He thought his partner might be involved... 

But Farzan soon was murdered...

http://www.allvoices.com/

"These people, the Asians...like your person from the plane...they are mostly Filipinos and Indonesians working in Saudi Arabia We see some of them in the clinic. They come to the Saudis and Kuwaitis from advertisements and agencies, by the thousands. They come to earn money for families at home. They hire out as domestics...They take any work that the spoiled, oil-rich Bedouins don't want to do themselves. In Saudi Arabia these people earn perhaps seven-eight hundred riyals per month...less than a hundred and forty euros. There is nothing to save or send home, and to add insult to injury they are treated like cattle...
"How does the person from the plane fit into this?" I asked, trying not to show my impatience.
"He may have been one of them."
"Why in the world would you jump to that conclusion? These are poor people. They can't afford plastic surgery. They can barely afford to eat, and they..."
Farzan held up a hand. "A moment, Wendell, if yu please, I am getting to the point...Some of these unfortunate people are homosexual, a few are transsexual or wish for surgical gender change, just as in the Western society. In fact, Muslim societies have always been tolerant of homosexuality." I started to interrupt, but Farzan headed me off at the pass. "Sodomy...homosexuality, these are capital offenses, but not if you look the other way. In my country, my old country, there is a thriving gay community... A smaller subset have gender issues. It is not difficult to identify them. They will do almost anything to find their surgical release from the bonds of gender misidentification...but with menial work and no way to pay for the multiple procedures, they become desperate. Enter the drug traffickers. To gain control of these workers, they are known to use both threat of exposure...punishment by death is a heavy threat among the unsophisticated, and then dangling the carrot of gender-altering surgery. Your man fits into the pattern..."

~~~

Needless to say, this was quite a twist to the normal investigations, but what it did do was place even Wendell and his lover, Alice under suspicion by the drug officers since they could perform the opening of the breasts and retrieve the drugs... Which, of course, led Dr. Black to begin his own investigation. Even though he was the police surgeon... he had no authority to participate in the actual case.

When most had decided that drugs were probably not the goal for this procedure, drug enforcement kept on the medical personnel who could handle the needed insertions and extractions. 

And then there were questions about Alice and he knew he really had to find out what was going on in order to keep suspicion away. But then she surprised him by saying she was CIA! And...it was believed that there was more to this than drugs, since it would be a very expensive activity to bring much quantity into the country. What else could it be? Soon they had arrived at a very possible alternative substance being carried...

While the plausibility of this story may be questionable, so also are suicide bombers to me... I don't know whether the facts as used are correct, but I can tell you that the story is a fun investigation to follow and is suspenseful enough, with a surprise ending that I certainly didn't anticipate, even for a second... Although there are medical (plastic surgery) issues included, and ably described by the author/plastic surgeon, I wouldn't consider it a true medical thriller--more a police procedures crime novel. 

Actually, I had not known that the police even had surgeons on staff, but then I've never seen a police officer hurt except on television... Just figured they went to the same hospitals that all of us do, even for a cold or fever... So, even though Dr. Imber is a Plastic Surgeon, and "only" an honorary police surgeon, I appreciated very much his spotlight on this group "who perform critical work and are integral to the functioning of a police force..." Check this one out...story line may be a little weird, but the potential reality of it all? Let's pray not!


GABixlerReviews

Dr. Gerald Imber is a well-known New York City plastic surgeon. He has published a number of beauty books and a well-received biography. In addition to directing his private clinic in Manhattan, Dr. Imber is on the staff of the New York Presbyterian Hospital, and is an assistant clinical professor of surgery (plastic) at the Weil Cornell Medical Center. He has been an honorary police surgeon for many years.

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