Moss Cole Introduces the New Face of “Hot Sinatra,” and You Can Win Prizes

To celebrate the new cover of Hot Sinatra by author Axel Howerton, the leading man himself, Moss Cole, stops by for a chat. Be sure to enter the raffle at the end for some cool prizes. (Old cover pictured above.)

Moss Revisited

What the hell am I doing? Sitting here on this park bench, watching people play with their kids. Every morning, I tell myself that I’m just going for a walk, part of my physical rehabilitation. I’m just limping down to the corner to get some coffee, despite the fact that I can make it better at home, and the new girl behind the counter has red hair and an attitude—exactly the way I imagine her at 19. She left me behind. They both did. Too much trouble, I guess. Even after the bullets and the knives and the two months in the damned hospital recovering from them.

I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. Thanks to Grandma Pot-Queen, I have plenty of money while I convalesce. Danny calls me twice a day to check up, three times on Sundays. He not-so-subtly pushes for me to take up a full-time spot with the band. I calmly explain that I’m not feeling strong enough to get dragged across the globe in his rock-star wake. Not today, Mossimo Cole. Not today.

On the other hand, every time the phone rings, I sit frozen in my big corner chair, straining to listen past the record player and the sounds of summer raging outside my windows. I sit there, terrified, waiting to hear her voice, or worse—someone looking for Moe Rossi Investigations, someone looking for the man I used to be. Someone looking for Moss Cole, Detective—the man who died in a blaze of glory.

So here I am, sitting in the park, all dolled up in shorts and a t-shirt and my friggin’ house-slippers because I still can’t pull on a pair of jeans, let alone my boots. So here I am, splayed out on a bench, not caring when people stare at my mangled, tattoo-covered leg. Not caring if I look like some kind of decrepit creeper, with my cane and my slippers and my old-man fedora, like I’m some 80-year-old punk-rock reject, like I’m Henry Rollins at the old folks home.

There’s dozens of kids running around, playing, jumping, climbing, screaming at the top of their lungs as they turn the playground into their own worlds, their own realities. Girls, boys, dogs—and they’re all so happy. It’s like a knife in my chest. Yet, I can’t stay away. Cake is blasting in my headphones, trumpets and SoCal sunny guitars.

I look around at the parents, bored and disingenuous. All the dads look like they just came from some BonnaFestaPalooza somewhere. They’re my age, or younger, every single one of them in black T’s from some band or another, every single one of them with tattoos and ridiculous wraparound shades. Shaved heads and porkpie fedoras—is that what I look like to the rest of the world? They all stand apart, clickety-clacking marimbas on their iPhones and mini-tablets, Facebooking and Candy Crushing and whatever other silly shit they do to avoid their lives and their kids and their wives. Their wives work hard and bring home the scratch so these dudes can play drums in bands with names like Stewed Shits and Monkeyfucker. Bands that will forever get nowhere, but let these guys hold onto their adolescence until they hit 50 and get a job selling cars in Reseda.

The moms stand in clusters around strollers and tiny bicycles tossed around the grass, occasionally scanning the horizon to make sure their offspring are still within chastising distance. The moms are all tan and fit in their tank tops and khaki shorts—black-rooted blondes and bottle reds, long legs and yoga asses. Their husbands are record producers, account managers, agents and big change bankers. They spend their days on play dates and wine lunches, mani-pedi appointments and tae kwon do lessons.

None of them know what they’re missing, barely noticing their kids busting their limits, challenging themselves to destroy the playground and its myriad obstacles. Kids are so awesome—none of the bullshit, none of the posing, no agendas beyond getting a second creamsicle or staying up late. They’re happy. They’re sad. They’re just happy to be here and explore the world. When do we break that out of them? Fuck. I never even got to take Holly to the park. I can taste the bitterness in my mouth. Maybe it’s just the shitty coffee.

One of the moms stares at me rather suspiciously. I don’t blame her. I’m a mess. Why do I do this to myself? I’m going to get arrested if I keep hanging around here. That would be the corker, wouldn’t it? Arrested for wallowing in my own grief, for stewing myself in what could never be.


She’s pretending to read a book. I’ve seen it before: Hot Sinatra. Must be a good one. I’ve seen it before, in the bookstore window, in the shop at the hospital where you buy flowers and magazines and cards for people who just had babies. Must be a good one. Something about a detective and a Sinatra record. No thanks. I’ve had enough Sinatra to last me a goddamn lifetime. I think I’m switching to Dino, maybe Sammy; he did some good stuff with Count Basie. My head is fuzzy again. The doctors say it’ll pass. No real damage, they say. Sure. Step inside and say that, Doc. Come over for dinner at Chez Misery and tell me I’m okay.

Hot Sinatra. I’d almost think it had to be about me, but I’m not that far gone. Yet. It looks like a million other mysteries and thrillers, the booze and cigar pic, the title in huge block letters and the slightly smaller author name, Axel Howerton. It takes years to write a book, right? Booze and cigars and a sexy cover? Try bullet holes and heartbreak and macho mafia psychos and Mexican gangsters. Yakuza thugs and hot lady cops and crazy Irish rock stars and knife wounds and eight days in a coma and my grandfather turning in his grave. Drive-by shootings and little girls that steal your heart and their incredible mothers who break them. No way it could be about me, about what happened a couple of months ago. Right? No real damage. Right. Sure would make a good fucking story, though.

It couldn’t be about me, right? Hot Sinatra. In stores now! Couldn’t be.

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“The Silver Sphere” by Michael Dadich Wins Multiple Awards, Goes On Sale


We’re so excited to share the great news about The Silver Sphere by Michael Dadich, which has been racking up some critical awards lately.

MCA_Gold_LabelMom’s Choice Awards – Gold Label – Young Adult Books: Fantasy, Myths & Legends
The good people at Mom’s Choice Awards 2013 have given The Silver Sphere their Gold Label, which not only means that it’s a great book, but one they’ll happily recommend to their kids (in this case, aged 12 or higher).
So this is one that’s great for teenagers and adults alike.

Wise Bear Award Winner 2013Wise Bear Digital Book Awards – WINNER 2013 – Best Young Adult Fantasy (General and Adventure)
The wise folks at Wise Bear Digital Book Awards 2013 have named The Silver Sphere as BEST IN CATEGORY for two separate categories: Best Young Adult Fantasy – General, Best Young Adult Fantasy – Adventure. Plus, it was the #2 vote getter for Fiction – Overall! This Sci-Fa (Science Fiction/Fantasy) adventure is sure to please all who enjoy Young Adults books.
readers-favorite-finalist-shiny-webReaders’ Favorite 2013 Award Contest Finalist
Now, the judges at Readers’ Favorite Book Awards 2013 have named The Silver Sphere a Finalist in the Young Adult – Fantasy/Sci-Fi category.
So it seems to be practically unanimous: The Silver Sphere is just plain awesome!
To celebrate this critical success, we’re offering the hardcover, personally signed by author Michael Dadich, for $5.00 OFF the regular price. To get your copy just CLICK HERE. Where it says “TYPE: Choose an option…,” just click the dropdown and select the hardcover version.

When you get your copy, sit back and relax, and enjoy the other-worldly excursion into The Silver Sphere. And if you have any questions for Michael, please leave your comment here, and he’ll be sure to respond. Thank you.

Evolved Publishing Offers a Selection of *FREE* eBooks

Because That’s How Much We Think You’re Going To Love These Authors:

The 4 books pictured below are all FREE as eBooks, at all American retailers. We’ve made these stories FREE because we want to offer you a no-risk opportunity to get to know these authors and their work.
FREE eBooks Listed
We start with the hybrid Bird Brain Books series by Emlyn Chand. These charming stories are part picture book, with lots of high quality full-color illustrations, and part chapter book, with anywhere from 1,000 words at the short end to 5,000 words at the high end. To find the retailer of your choice to download this FREE eBook, just click the title link below and go to the “Other Retailers” tab.

From there we move to 2 short stories (less than 4,000 words each) by Lane Diamond, Paradox and Devane’s Reality. As the author of the psychological thriller novel, Forgive Me, Alex, Lane likes to get inside the heads of his characters. These two short stories are perfect examples of that style. To find the retailer of your choice to download this FREE eBook, just click the title link below and go to the “Other Retailers” tab.

Finally, we have the short story (approx. 10,000 words) by Amelia James, One Wild Night. This paranormal romance is slightly different from Amelia’s standard romances and erotica collections, but it gives you a taste of her style. It’s also a precursor to a full paranormal romance series coming from Amelia starting in 2014. To find the retailer of your choice to download this FREE eBook, just click the title link below and go to the “Other Retailers” tab.

Please enjoy these wonderful FREE offerings. We hope you’ll also take the time to post a heartfelt review wherever you pick up your copy, and right here at this website (at the product links above). Thank you!

Romance Author Amelia James Hosting a Special Giveaway

A 99-Cent eBook, and Special Prizes Available

Bio_Pic-Amelia_James_300dpi_760x790Not only is bestselling romance novel Tell Me You Want Me on sale this June, with the eBook at just $0.99 at Amazon and at Barnes and Noble, but you can also win special prizes in author Amelia James’ raffle (including chocolate)!

Just click over to Amelia’s Trashy’s Treasures blog for the full details on how to enter her raffle. Good luck!

HIS & HERS RAFFLE: Win Signed Copies of “Forgive Me, Alex” and “Hannah’s Voice”

2 Great Books Autographed by the Authors

We’re raffling off signed copies of two of our most highly rated books: Forgive Me, Alex by Lane Diamond, and Hannah’s Voice by Robb Grindstaff.

So why are we calling it a “His & Hers” raffle? Well, as much as we dislike being slaves to stereotypes, we do recognize certain “general truths” about the audience for our books. Forgive Me, Alex, as a psychological thriller with male characters in the lead roles, will appeal to men, but we know from the reviews that women are loving it, too. Hannah’s Voice, as an up-market literary fiction with a compelling female character in the lead role, will appeal to women, but we know from the reviews that men are loving it, too.


GRAND PRIZE: Signed Paperbacks of both Forgive Me, Alex and Hannah’s Voice.
FIRST RUNNER-UP: Signed Paperback of Forgive Me, Alex
SECOND RUNNER-UP: Signed Paperback of Hannah’s Voice

So 3 lucky folks will win! And it’s easy: just click on the raffle options below that suit you. Maximize your odds of winning by selecting as many of them as you’re comfortable with, and remember: you can come back every day and select the Tweet option.


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