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Search tags: i-know-that-feel
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photo 2016-05-03 14:45
Free Today!

Will a distinguished yet depraved Presidential Candidate from America's wealthiest family make a corrupt bargain to win the White House. Can Gabby, The Protector fight the most evil force in the Universe to stop him? What if she's too late?

 

Link: http://amzn.com/B013PEQBDC

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photo 2016-04-29 19:57
Gabby, Angel of God

"Twenty years blurred my memory of what she looked like, but having her next to me, I remembered her perfume. She smelled like a fresh bouquet. Strawberries mixed with sugar cookie. Vanilla, but stronger, as though innocence had a scent. I closed my eyes and breathed in, deep enough to feel the ribs in my chest. My heart beat faster. Cassadee smelled like young love, a first kiss, something wonderful."

 

 

Grab a Copy for the Weekend!  http://amzn.com/B00IJA6XQS

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photo 2016-04-22 15:20
Check out my Excerpt:
Hi Everyone, check out my Excerpt:
 
Making the wealthy elite feel special through exclusivity has made him an amazing success. We’re not for everybody.”
“You mean TIC turns down business?” That also seemed counterintuitive to building a business.
“Yes, a full third of prospective are turned down.”
“Businesses want to make money. How is that more profitable?”
Blaine gave the look of an adult dealing with a small child. “People want what they can’t have. Our coatings are exclusive. TIC is not for the masses. Think of it as you would a rope line.”
I smirked. “That’s an interesting analogy, Blaine.”
“Listen, there’s a story that will help explain the way things work. It’s part of our corporate folklore. It’s about a small powder room, part of the former estate of Lucille Ball. Tommy felt the job was beneath him and called the owner personally to turn it down. As luck would have it, the woman was extremely wealthy and refused to take no for an answer. She offered three times the normal rate. It was a turning point for the company and has become our corporate strategy.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s fascinating, so what’s Tommy’s story?”
Blaine’s face went blank and he began speaking by rote, “Our founder creates each color pallet grinding the pigments by hand, using an antique granite ball and trough. An apparatus recovered from the first American Paint Mill circa 1700. All the formulations are Tommy’s original creations.”
“Is any of that true?” I wondered.
Blaine rolled his eyes. “Tommy’s assistants select the tints. All the shades are mixed secretly on-site.”
The lights dimmed. Tommy’s name splashed across an IMAX-sized screen, each letter shining in a different color. Two giant signs, one on each side of the stage flashed - Applause. The attendees began a standing, arms outstretched ovation, hands clapping in a common energetic beat. The founder, a slight middle-aged man took center stage. His jet-black hair and pale complexion juxtaposed against a black tee and stylish designer scarf. He posed demanding attention.
Blaine spoke into my ear, “That’s Tommy.”
At that moment, my dream ended.
I looked at Gabby. “That’s when I woke up.”
Gabby nodded. “You dreamed of ego.”
“Huh?”
“Specialness, Bo.”
 
Grab a Copy for the Weekend! http://amzn.com/B013PEQBDC
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photo 2014-11-09 16:31
Grim Business
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