Diary of a Stalker by Electra Rome Parks

Never judge a book by its cover. . .

Xavier Preston is tall, dark, and handsome, and the problem is that he knows it. He's a bestselling author who is accustomed to adoring female fans, both young and old, flirting with him, throwing themselves shamelessly at him, and trying to get between more than the covers of his novels. He has always been more than willing to accommodate their needs and desires; however, his womanizing days have finally ended. He's engaged to a beautiful woman, Kendall, and he's decided to walk the straight and narrow. Or has he? 

From outside appearances, the very stunning Pilar has it all: a great career, a beautiful home, and a trust fund that keeps her financially secure; however, looks can be deceiving. All that glitters isn't necessarily gold. Pilar is searching for her perfect soulmate, and she thinks she has found him in Xavier. She believes in going after what she wants with a vengeance . . . and she wants Xavier. That is not negotiable. She will have him, even if it kills him.

When Xavier meets his fanatical fan, Pilar, he gets much more than he bargained for. What starts out as an erotic one-night stand quickly spirals out of control into a dangerous game of obsession and pain with both parties playing to win. 

Think you know what goes on behind the literary scene? Think again

 This is an excellent read. . . one where you'd readily recommend this book to others as I have. Read it and revel in Electa Rome Parks joining that elitist circle of writers!   -- Alvin C. Romer "The Jackal"

Meet author Electa Rome Parks

Electa Rome Parks currently resides outside Atlanta, Georgia. After successfully self-publishing her debut novel, The Ties That Bind, New American Library, a division of Penguin Group, bought the rights. Electa signed a three-book deal with New American Library. All three books were immediately chosen as Black Expressions Book Club main selections and embraced as Books of the Month by book clubs across the country. Dubbed a "book club favorite," avid readers have embraced Electa's true to life characters that tackle prevalent and heavy hitting issues.

Since then Electa has become a bestselling author of several other mainstream (Loose Ends and Almost Doesn't Count) and erotic (These Are My Confessions and Ladies' Night Out) novels with Penguin Group and HarperCollins.

The self-proclaimed, Queen of Real, Electa has been a frequent guest on radio shows, has been nominated for many industry awards and has been interviewed by newspapers, AOL's Black Voices, Vibe Vixen, Upscale Magazine, Today's Black Woman, Rolling Out and Booking Matters, to name just a few. With a BA degree in marketing and a minor in sociology, she is following her true passion and working on her next novel.

To find out when and where Electa will be in your area, check out her website at www.electaromeparks.com or www.myspace.com/author_chick. To share your thoughts with Electa regarding her work or to schedule an event, please e-mail her at: novelideal@aol.com.

Coming in December 2009 Diary of a Stalker

Electa Rome Parks author of:
-Ladies' Night Out (Penguin Group/NAL)
-Almost Doesn't Count (Penguin Group/NAL)
-Loose Ends (Penguin Group/NAL)
-The Ties That Bind (Penguin Group/NAL)
-These Are My Confessions (HarperCollins/Avon Red)

Connect with Electa online:
-Email: novelideal@aol.com 
-www.electaromeparks.com   
-www.myspace.com/author_chick
-www.facebook.com/electaromeparks
-www.electaromeparks.blogspot.com

Northern Michigan author takes a look at another cold case

"Isadore's Secret" by Traverse City author Mardi Link offers a gripping, mesmerizing look at an intriguing, gruesome crime that place in a small northern Michigan town over a century ago. It examines the mysterious disappearance of Sister Janine, a young nun, in the summer of 1907. Her body was discovered buried in the basement of her church over a decade later. Although the book opens with a teaser, focusing on the discovery of the skeletal bones, it smoothly goes back and explores the history of the controversial case. The author begins with background information about Sister Janine's past, relating views on the nun's duties and work situation. Link deftly examines the close association of the nun with the church's priest, Father Andrew Bieniawski as well her relationship with her physician, Dr. George Fralick. Sister Janine's sudden disappearance caused quite a stir and a huge concentrated search effort was coordinated. Many residents of the local Polish community and nearby townspeople joined in the hunt but had no success. A bloodhound and his keeper had similar luck; Father Andrew offered a handsome reward. Rumors abounded – some said Sister Janine had left the area with a man, other implied that she had returned home to members of her family. Father Andrew was considered innocent – he was on a fishing trip when Sister Janine turned up missing. But Stanislawa "Stella" Lipczynska, his longtime housekeeper, was under suspicion. She had distinctly negative opinions about Sister Janine and her bad influence upon Father Andrew. READ MORE AT: http://mittenlit.com/?p=2526

Event: Murder Mystery @ The Whitney October 30, 2009

(click image for larger view) Someone was murdered @ the Whitney and we need your help to solve the mystery. 4421 Woodward Avenue. Detroit, MI October 30, 2009 6pm - 10pm Tickets $10 a Fundraiser for the Michigan Warriors Basketball team Flyer attached and the contact number for tickets is 734-334-6972 or 734-552-1490. Thank you, Janaya Black Managing Editor The Michigan FrontPage 313-963-5522 ext.244 313-963-8788 fax www.frontpageconnect.com www.myspace.com/frontpageconnect www.twitter.com/mifrontpage Facebook: Michigan FrontPage

Two new mysteries take place in Michigan small towns

If you want to relax by the fireplace in a comfortable chair with an enjoyable cozy mystery, here's a quick look at a pair of new books that should be just right. Each novel is set in a small Michigan town, showcasing frustrated amateur sleuth and is part of a likable ongoing series. "Dead Floating Lovers" by Elizabeth Kane Buzzelli (Midnight Ink, $14.95) is the second novel starring Emily Kincaid, frustrated author and part-time journalist. The paperback sequel to "Dead Dancing Women" brings back Deputy Dolly Wakowski, who asks for Kincaid's help when she discovers a body. The receding water level of a nearby local lake has revealed a body, complete with a bullet hole in the skull, and an item that may link it to her long-missing husband. Members of the Odawa Indian tribe observe the discovery. And when the body is identified, they want to make sure she gets a proper Indian burial. As Dolly and Kincaid investigate, other clues surface, as does another body, which causes all kind of complications. Buzzelli, a creative writing instructor at Northwestern Michigan College, has created a satisfying tale with a lot of local color, deftly exploring uneasy relationships and deadly situations. Click here to visit the author's website. "The Chocolate Cupid Killings" by JoAnna Carl (Obsidian, $21.95) is the ninth in her popular series featuring chocoholic Lee McKinney Woodyard, who runs TenHuis Chocolate in the small fictitious Michigan town of Warner Pier. She's approached by Derrick Valentine, a private detective from Georgia who's seeking information about a new employee. The woman is part of a secret underground railroad-type of organization that's helping abused women. Valentine soon turns up dead. Woodyard's aunt Nettie is discovered holding the murder weapon and more challenges arise. When you throw in a violent Detroit mobster, a sneaky CEO under investigation, secretive cops and much more, you've got a fascinating tale that Agatha Christie lovers should enjoy.  Woodyard does a lot of research, trying to figure out what's going on. Her boat-building husband, who's also the city attorney, has other problems; another body surfaces and both are put in a perilous situation. JoAnna Carl, the pseudonym for mystery writer Eve K. Sandstrom, is in fine form, offering more tasty chocolate trivia as well as entertaining mystery faire. Ray Walsh, owner of East Lansing's Curious Book Shop, has reviewed crime novels and noir thrillers regularly since 1987. This article first appeared in the Lansing State Journal. Visit www.curiousbooks.com SOURCE: http://mittenlit.com/

Hackley Public Library hosts true crime writer and medical examiner on October 6th

This is tomorrow, but what a neat program. I'm sure I am not the only one who reads books like the Kathy Reichs series so this would have a broad audience. It would make a great Halloween program for teens and adults. >>>>>>> Skeletons in the Closet Hackley Public Library welcomes Dr. Stephen Cohle and Tobin Buhk on October 6th. Based on his experiences of observing and assisting on more than 35 autopsies with Kent County, Chief Medical Examiner Dr. Stephen D. Cohle, and true-crime writer Tobin T. Buhk, recount riveting, real-life stories, each with an unique forensic twist. For more information call 231-722-7276. Posted by Karren Reish http://michiganlibraryauthorvisits.blogspot.com/

Reggie McKenzie Foundation DINNER & MYSTERY MOVIE

Having trouble viewing this email? Click here! Reggie McKenzie Foundation presents DINNER & MYSTERY MOVIE YOUR CHOICE RAFFLE Join us for a night of fun and excitement at our dinner and mystery movie fundraiser. Proceeds support our academic and athletic programs. Don't Miss this event! Limited amount of tickets available! Saturday, October 24, 2009 Buffet Dinner & Raffle 5:15- 6:30 p.m. Movie ????? - 7:00 p.m. - Sharp! Uptown Palladium 12 - Theater 8 250 North Woodward (at Hamilton Ave.) Birmingham, MI 48009 (side parking lot available) For tickets call 313.869.8081/8086 to use your credit card, of make check/money order payable to Reggie McKenzie Foundation and mail to 13853 Trumbull, Highland Park, MI 48203 www.ReggieMcKenzieFoundation.com

BOOK INTRO: Murder on the Down Low

Murder on the Down Low By Pamela Samuels Young    BOOK INTRO     A high-profile lawsuit erupts into chaos, revealing its place in a larger spree of violence in this scandalous tale of lust, lies, and vengeance. A brazen gunman is targeting prominent African American men on the streets of Los Angeles, and police are completely baffled. At the same time, savvy big-firm attorney Vernetta Henderson and her outrageous sidekick, Special, lead the charge for revenge against a man whose deceit caused his fianceé's death. For Special, hauling the man into court and suing him for wrongful death just isn't good enough. While she exacts her own brand of justice, a shocking revelation connects the contentious lawsuit and the puzzling murders.     "Right up to the twisted and unexpected slam-bang ending, Murder on the Down Low will keep you teetering precariously on the edge of your seat the whole way through!"                             -The Book Club Queen     ". . . drama and suspense in every chapter."                               -APOOO Book Club                       Goldman House Publishing ISBN-10: 0981562701 ISBN-13: 978-0981562704  Click on the book to purchase Chapter 1   Dr. Quentin Banks was a man's man. The kind of guy other men liked being around. Handsome, but not a pretty boy. Wealthy, but not a showoff. Versatile enough to host a fundraiser one night and chill out with his buddies over a game of dominoes the next.   Standing outside Exam Room 5, the doctor scanned the chart of the first patient he was scheduled to see after his lunch meeting. His office suite in the Horton Medical Plaza was tastefully decorated with muted walls and dark slate tile. Colorful prints of jazz musicians lined the long, bright hallway. The place was classy, but not over the top. Just like Dr. Banks.   He checked his watch. It was almost eleven-thirty. Time to leave. The doctor closed the chart and dropped it into the plastic casing posted at eye level outside the exam room. He strode into his private office, locked the door, then retrieved a throwaway cell phone from his desk.   "I'm about to leave," he said. "The President's Suite, right?"   It was always that cut and dry. He was a happily married man who did not have the time or the need for emotional connections. His lunch meetings were all about the sex.   The doctor slipped out of his white coat and hung it on a metal rack. Casually but impeccably dressed, he wore a khaki-colored shirt and black slacks made from an expensive linen fabric. The kind that didn't wrinkle much. He was forty-two years old, just shy of six feet, and a hearty 215 pounds. He had the build of an aging ex-football player. Not nearly as lean as in his prime, but thick and firm enough to advertise that he still hit the gym on a regular basis.   After telling his office manager that he'd be back by one-thirty, Dr. Banks took an elevator to the parking structure. He eased his black Jag onto Hillcrest Street. At the light, he turned left on Manchester Boulevard and headed for the northbound ramp of the 405 Freeway.   Without question, Dr. Banks was one of the best OB/GYNs in Southern California. From the day he had applied to Howard Medical School, he had vowed to return home to Inglewood to set up shop. And despite the sacrifices, he'd kept his word, turning down opportunities that were far more lucrative, in terms of both prestige and compensation. Having a predominantly black and Latino patient base meant keeping late office hours and working one, sometimes two, Saturdays a month. The people he served couldn't afford to take time off from work. Not even for medical care.   When he wasn't working, the doctor cherished his family life. Though he now lived just a few miles from his childhood stomping grounds, in many respects it was a world away. View Park was a haven for L.A.'s black elite. Professionals with six and seven-figure salaries who actually liked the idea of having neighbors who looked like them. The doctor's residence spanned five thousand square feet and had a full-length basketball court, a circular swimming pool, and a guesthouse. The Mrs. was a stay-at-home mom who loved her job as wife and mother to their two sons as much as she loved her husband. All in all, life was good.   The doctor pulled his Jag to a stop in front of the Marina Marriott on Admiralty Way, hopped out, and took a ticket from the valet. He felt invigorated by the very thought of the treat that awaited him. Dr. Banks rotated his lunch meetings among different hotels in the area. His favorite was the much more elegant Ritz-Carlton just up the street. As he crossed the hotel lobby, he tossed the cell phone into the trash, then made a mental note to switch locations for next week. He was many things. Sloppy wasn't one of them.   When Dr. Banks reached the hotel room, there was no need to knock. The door was always left open just a crack. He could not risk being seen with his lunch date for even the few seconds it would take to open and close the door.   As usual, the main room of the spacious suite was empty. His lunch sat on a sterling silver room service tray on the coffee table in front of the couch. He'd have the turkey sandwich, root beer, and Caesar salad after his other hunger had been satisfied.   Stepping over to the large picture window, Dr. Banks stared across the street at the sailboats lolling in the Marina. Maybe he'd buy himself a boat.   He walked back to the couch, undressed, and slipped into the white terrycloth robe left waiting for him. Another part of the ritual. Dr. Banks sank down onto the couch and for the next five minutes, fell into a deep, calming meditation. The more intensely he fantasized about what awaited him in the adjoining room, the longer and harder his erection grew. He reached down and gently stroked himself, then picked up the condom on the end table and slipped it on.   Dr. Banks entered the bedroom and nodded at his lunch date, who sat naked in a velvet club chair, a sly grin stretched across his bearded face. Clarence Mitchell was his youngest son's soccer coach. They had been hooking up on a semi-regular basis for over a year.   Clarence stood up, showing off a solid, mink brown body. "Good to see you, man," he said, smiling.   Dr. Banks didn't respond, his growing excitement over what was about to occur more internal than external. The two men awkwardly embraced, then let go. Extended foreplay or professions of love were unnecessary. They saved that for the women in their lives.   Clarence walked over to the bed. Following close behind, Dr. Banks discarded his robe and prepared to treat himself. *  *  *     Just over an hour later, as he exited the freeway, Dr. Banks heard his cell phone ring. He glanced at the caller ID before picking up.   "Hey, beautiful," he said into the phone.   "Hi, honey," his wife chirped back. "I'm catching a movie with Karen tonight. The kids are with my parents."   "Have a good time."   Diana was always good about making sure he knew her precise whereabouts, and Dr. Banks appreciated that. Now that he was free for the evening, the thought of arranging another hookup with Clarence crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He was not a greedy man. He never prowled for sex and the thought of going to a gay bar disgusted him. Only gay men did that, and he wasn't gay.   His lunchtime excursions were just a freaky little hobby. Nothing more. Nothing less. He was a fanatic about safe sex and always chose partners who were family men with as much to lose as he had. Dr. Banks even required his sexual partners to periodically produce written proof that they were HIV negative, and he gladly did the same. He loved his wife too much to demand anything less. In the twelve years since he'd said I do, there had only been five other men besides Clarence.   Dr. Banks turned left into the parking structure, made his way to the second level and backed into a stall that bore his name in neat block letters. He hummed his favorite Temptations song, My Girl, as he took off his shades and clipped them onto the sun visor.   Pushing open the car door, Dr. Banks planted his left foot on the ground at the same moment that a bullet pierced his cheek, just below his right eye. The force of the shot sent his head hurtling backward, then slowly forward, as a splash of crimson darkened the car's pristine beige interior.   As the second and third bullets entered his neck and chest, Dr. Banks' body fell sideways toward the open car door. His hand reached out for something to grasp, but found nothing to break his fall.   In what looked like a slow motion videotape, Dr. Banks tumbled onto the dirty garage pavement, head first.       Pamela Samuels Young  - Website   Introduce your book to our readers - http://sormag.com/advertise.htm Forward email