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Detective Paris (Ponch) Green and the Motor City Crime Squad faces one of the most dangerous and intellectual serial-killers their city has ever seen. A HEARTLESS SERIAL-KILLER When a vengeful serial-killer, Michael, is haunted by his abusive past – he goes about killing women who physically abused their children. He believes that he is somehow correcting a wrong in society. Haunted by his mother’s voice, this killer seeks his revenge. Slash after bloody slash – The Whipping Man would have his revenge. A COPY-CAT-KILLER His long lost son, who now is a police officer, has also been posing as The Whipping Man. Now in a race against time – Michael must stop him before the police does. A RELENTLESS DETECTIVE Detective Paris (Ponch) Green, who has a Napoleon Complex never forgot the promise he made to his wife, but after his friend is killed he abandons his promise. The plot thickens once he discovers that the DA is actually the twin brother of The Whipping Man and his partner is The Whipping Man’s son. Now faced with a huge moral dilemma, Ponch finds serenity in his father’s wisdom. Price: $24.99 Hardcover/9.95 Paperback Product Details ISBN: 978-1-4512-0279-3 # Pages: 388 pages Dimensions: 6 x 9 Format: Softcover http://www.publishamerica.net/product91646.html The Corporate Genius The Diary of a Ghost
When a wealthy suburban couple finds themselves on the brink of divorce they soon find themselves fighting and bickering with one another over money, space, and the right to care for their child. Their personal hatred cuts a path that soon leads to betrayal, sexuality, immorality, and even demon possession. Ruby, their teenage daughter, who is caught in the middle of her parent’s little marital war, must first go through hell (literally) before she can save the family she loves. After being sexually assaulted, the world in which she once loved and thought presious is suddenly turned upside down and begins to fall apart. Her mother, who struggles to try to find solace within herself, is soon overtaken by her inner pain, and her emotions subsequently force her into a life of promiscuity. This ingeniously funny and sarcastically witted teen is forced to draw upon her youthful intellect, but in order to do this she is forced to rely upon the spiritual wisdom of an old Indian lady. But instead of helping, the old lady winds up releasing an evil spirit that leaves Ruby trapped in the place of the undead. After Ruby saves the lives of an innocent family, who were in danger of certain death, she awakes in her own world, only to discover that the deadly nightmare, which she has been trying so desperately to escape from, has only just begun. The Diary of a Ghost is a suspense/thriller about a teenage girl’s undying love for her father. THE NORTHERN WINDS IN THE UPPER Peninsula, during the spring months, were oftentimes quite fierce and brutal, even for homesteaders like us. These forceful winds were usually accompanied by cold temperatures, heavy rain showers, and laden snowfalls that seemed to linger forever when they came. The extreme weather usually forced us to abandon any and all outside activities, but if it weren’t for that chilly spring weather that came every year, nothing would have prevented me from sitting out on the portico to await daddy's arrival. It was no secret that I was a daddy’s girl, or that I loved him very much. Yet, the same couldn’t be said for my mother, for I had nothing but deep aversion in my heart for her, mainly because of the shame her promiscuous lifestyle had brought to our doorstep. Over the months that followed my discovery, I slowly began to distance myself from her – a practice that I had nearly perfected in order to keep what little sanity I had left by, the time my thirteenth birthday arrived. This was a self-imposed ousting of my own choosing – one that I accepted, and quite frankly, I wore like a badge of honor each time she found cause to berate me. My mother was everything foul that I knew of, and had it not been for my age I might have easily stood to her face and gave her a piece of my mind. Contrastingly enough, I loved my father dearly, despite his frequent absences, my love for him was incomparable to anything I knew of, as I continually prayed each night for mother’s death to come. But one night, as I prayed, I made it a point to ask the Lord not to think of my love for my daddy as that of being, unusual or unnatural. My father’s devotion to me – without question, had been my own personal heaven on earth. Daddy would oftentimes shower me with gifts untold, precious toys and clothing that he would bring home with him whenever he went abroad, some of which were very rare. Yet, his overt display of affection towards me only lent to enrage my mother, and caused her to hate me that much more. “Ruby . . .” Daddy would often say to me – at least a thousand times a week, something that he had even thought to say to me the last time I saw him boarding that train. “. . . You do realize how much I love you, don’t you? I love you more than life itself Pumpkin and one of these days’ things are going to be just the way they should be around here.” My dad and I were alike in many ways, especially when it came to us agreeing on mother’s evil ways. In truth, we were “as thick as thieves” as they say, but, above all, we had grown weary of mother and her evil ways, along with the men she kept company with. I understood my daddy’s stance on the matter, and his words that day seemed to imply that he was going to find someway to come and take me away, or rescue me from mother’s hands. Yet, just the thought of getting away from this god-awful woman was enough to motivate me into believing his words, and it was those words of his that kept my heart, and prevented me from lurching out at her, particularly if you were to consider the present circumstances I was forced to live with. I longed for my father, and I dreaded the thought of ever having to be alone with her whenever he was away, and this was a feeling that was greatly enhanced whenever I had to listen to her revelry with those grungy men of hers with whom she kept company. How could she, dad was a well-dressed and well-mannered man. He was well educated, and above all, he always kept himself well groomed, and at this thought I was soon prompted to ask the inevitable question, whatever possessed him to marry her in the first place? Mother was a very beautiful woman, especially with that long thick head of red hair of hers that stretched all the way down to the center of her back. She had round full lips, the kind every man loved to latch on to, and kiss until the sun came up. Moreover, when it came to describing her ripe womanly figure, then that was something she lacked. She was a gorgeous woman that had a sway about her that could wreak havoc on any city street. Whenever dad came home, he only had me to look forward to, for mother was scarce, and rarely home whenever he was in town. So I made it my business to do all that I could to care for him, and I lacked nothing when it came to making his home his castle. I did this so that there would be no problems with him having companionship when he was home. Whenever daddy wasn’t away on some business trip across the country I was the one who tended to his needs, but of course there is one thing I could never do. Yet, even with all the attention that I gave my dad, I knew that he was nevertheless lonely when it came to needing female companionship, something I could never fulfill. But other than that, daddy would always have me to talk with. I loved listening to his troubles, and I always kept him abreast of his schedule, but yet . . . I would still tell him, even to the point of whispering it in his ear if I had to, “I love you daddy!” Each time I would rehearsed this in his ear, he would just lean forward and pat me atop of my head, the same as he had done that day before boarding the train. But the entire time that we stood out on that walkway, waiting for him to board his train, he never once looked in mother's direction, and neither did he have two words to share with her. I made myself believe that we really had a happy home, only because I had to keep my sanity while dad was away, and ironically, our house was the only true safe haven from mother, even though she would be physically present in the house with me. “Go on, wave goodbye to your father Ruby!” “I did!” I barked at her, as I stared up at her with extreme aversion. “You’ll be seeing him soon enough girl.” She said, trying her damndest to appease me. Though I was quite young, I knew very well when someone was trying to patronize me. And even though I couldn’t foresee the future, I somehow knew that I wouldn’t be seeing daddy for a very long time. But more than her futile attempt to patronize me, what was worse was the fact that she spoke to me that day with deceit in her mouth, thinking that she had somehow smoothed me over and that she had convinced me of her lie. But I was nobody’s fool, I could see right through her malicious lies and evil intentions, she was as transparent as that come, like looking through clear glass. “I know that I'll see him again!" I barked. "I don't need you to tell me that!” I said to her. But I only said it to try to reassure myself that I would see my dad again. “And then it will be just us, without you too!” Mother, now angered by my words, suddenly took a firm grip on my arm and spun me about, but I continued looking back at my dad as he boarded the train until it finally pulled away from the train station. Paganini & The Curse of the TrumpetIntroducing: Author/Writer, Alexander DeMarcus:
Alexander DeMarcus is a passionate new author from Westland, Michigan who has just released two new explosive novels. He has been writing poems and short stories all of his life. Driven by his desire to write, Mr. DeMarcus put all of his wild and crazy thoughts, and his inner imagination to work for him, and has written four novels, and one non-fiction book. All of his novels pay great tribute to the "mystery/thriller/suspense" genres without attempting to develop a whole new meaning to these genres in the literary field.
You can join Alexander DeMarcus at http//:www.alexanderdemarcus.blogspot.com as he discusses many more of his other novels and upcoming works in depth. Along with his novel The Whipping Man, you will also have an opportunity to purchase some of his earlier works.
The Whipping Man
A Memoir of Ann Roberson
by Alexander DeMarcus
After a former gang member (Robert Hawthorne) has a run in with the law he is scared straight. Desiring to change his ways he meets an unheralded automotive genius, who later adopts young Robert and teaches him the art of automotive design and engineering.
The brilliance of this young man's genius is quickly realized by everyone but himself, and because of this oversight, he spends his life believing that Wally (his father) was the true genius. After the news of this young genius reaches the ears of the big wigs of corporate America, he realizes he can no longer avoid his own destiny.
When an ailing automotive company (Marryna Motors) learns about this young genius' success they come seeking his help, but he quickly refuses their offer. After a little prompting from his father this young genius comes to realize that this is his true calling. With Robert at the helm, Marryna Motors rises from the brink of corporate death and soon becomes number one in the auto industry.
Price $19.99 Product Details ISBN: 9781450533928 # Pages: 334 pages Dimensions: 5 x 7 Format: Softcover
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by Alexander DeMarcus
After she is forced to live with her wicked mother, whom she hates, her keen sense of understanding takes over and she soon finds herself doing things that are far beyond the normal realm of courage and comprehension of your average teenager, as she comes face-to-face with the devil in a fight for her life.
After Ruby accidentally discovers her mother’s murderous past, she is visited by an evil spirit in her dreams which reveals the secret whereabouts and events behind these murders. In an attempt to hide her family’s awful secret Ruby enlists the help of an old Indian woman who is familiar with spirits, but when the evil spirit runs amok, Ruby is suddenly pulled onto death’s doorstep and held captive in a spirit-like state. Her hopes for freedom rest solely on her ability to find a way to love and forgive the mother she hates. Driven by her love for her father, Ruby is forced to travel back in time in order to elucidate the riddle put forth to her by the keeper of the light and return home before time runs out and she becomes trapped in the world of the undead, forever. Ruby’s actions in this suspense driven novel exemplifies the determination of the human spirit’s will to persevere in difficult times in order to preserve its way of life, even in the face of overwhelming odds.
Excerpt:
CHAPTER 1
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by Alexander DeMarcus
Synopsis:
News reporter Ann Roberson realizes that she is in a race against time to save the world, after meeting Ivan, who is really Paganini. The trumpet she has been babysitting has become the key to man’s salvation on the earth.
An ambitious and determined reporter
After Ann Roberson does a report on an antique trumpet, twenty-one years later she realizes that she has spent nearly half of her life with the trumpet.
An Autistic Child
At six months old, Nicholas, ‘The Guardian of God’ has a seizure and he is forced to live the first twenty-one years of his life with infantile autism. No one knew that he was the only person able to play trumpet of God.
The Beast of Satan
After being brutally murdered, the great sorcerer (Metavaldi) swears to get revenge. Four hundred years later he returns, and with his new source of spiritual strength from the Books of the Dead, he now threatens to destroy mankind and bring Satan up from Hell and Death.
___________________________________________
Excerpt:
C h a p t e r 1
THE TRUTH IS SOMETHING THAT IS VERY DIFFICULT to arrive at, this is especially true if you don’t know where to look, or what it is you’re looking for, and in the case of the story of, The Curse of the Trumpet, when it came to the truth, well let’s just say; the truth was something that I was fresh out of.
Yet here I was being interviewed after the fact, even though I had spent nearly twenty-one years of my life searching for a truth that nearly cost me everything. The truth I sought nearly cost me my job, my career, my marriage, and most of all my sanity. And still to this day I don’t know how I had been able to keep up the façade as long as I had without being found out. But to hear others tell it, especially those in the field of journalism, I was considered a professional’s professional.
But to be totally honest with you, aside from all the hype and titles that had been bestowed upon me, in all truth, I was nothing more than your plain-old, every day, run-of-the-mill reporter, whose only accomplishments in life were a couple of old tarnished Pulitzer awards that I had received in my younger hotshot days, something I now consider as, beginner’s luck. I guess it’s true what they say; life is 90% conjecture and 10% foolish insolent talk, and up until a week ago, my life as a journalist, when it came to the story of The Curse of the Trumpet, had been 100% FOOLISHNESS! It had been a twenty-one year – long wait, but with my long black hair now tied back in a psyche knot, with a petite black and white polka – dot butterfly bow clip, I was ready to tell my amazing story to the world.
With the nape of my neck exposed, it was obvious to any onlooker that I’d kept myself in top–physical condition. I had a habituating thirst for fitness, one in which most women would envy. Many had thought me to be remarkably attractive woman for my age, yet aside from all of my feminine beauty, underneath that thick head of hair of mine, was a brilliant journalist and reporter, one whom many considered a professional’s, professional. And even though I was fast approaching my mid-forties, I could’ve easily passed for a woman ten – years my youth, for I had looked much younger than I was. Yet despite my petite physical appearance I hadn’t put a lot of time or energy into staying physically fit, as many had thought, yet I somehow managed to hold on to that youthful figure of mine, which gave me that natural, I’m younger than I look, appeal.
To many people, especially to men, I looked more like a supermodel than I did a news reporter. Most of the time I walked about looking more like the premiere subject of a fashion show. With a charismatic charm that was disarming to both men and women alike, my style of reporting fit well with my reputation for being strictly – business. Yet it wasn’t my looks that got me the big stories, no, it was my sense of fairness and thirst for justice that had won me the exclusives.
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