Clock's Ticking

Just a quick simple message to anyone who happens to stumble in here today. 

As 2012 wraps up and whether you deem the year to have been a great, good, average or a bad one - just make 2013 a better one. 

Wishing you nothing but the best in the New Year.

-JW

10 Days Left

One final push, one more blitz post for the month of December folks! It's been a great month so far with the 99 cent deal on all Snubnose Press titles. We really want to finish strong and continue to make a mark and have a presence among the leaders at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other outlets.

To our U.S. friends and fellow authors we want to say a heartfelt thanks for giving Blood on Blood a try. You're continued support has been tremendous as well. If there is still someone you could give a nudge too we would really appreciate it, as we're very near achieving a pretty special (for us anyway) threshold at Amazon.

To our U.K. buds, including the likes of Nigel Bird, Col Bury, Matt Hilton and on and on, a very special thanks. We've had some unexpected sells in the U.K. too and rest assured we know why. Without you spreading the word over there we wouldn't have a chance.     

To everyone else and all the above who might stumble onto this message - Don't let the opportunity slip away without giving some great books from Snubnose Press a try.

Thanks again.

-JW

BIG SALE Announcement

This is the deal of all deals! For the month of December all Snubnose Press titles - ALL of them are 99 centavos. That's right, 99 cents. The official announcement and list of books/authors are found here http://dosomedamage.blogspot.com/

There is some serious talent in this list of authors and the value on these great books being offered here is tremendous. It's the right time of year too. This is a bargain that is so ridiculously good that it makes any 'deal' you think you got on Black Friday look ah so-so.

Load up on these jewels as gifts to friends and family but also for yourself. Its a perfect time to pick up the books you've seen or heard about but just haven't read yet. And hey, I wouldn't be your favorite obnoxious salesman if I didn't say that if you buy five or ten stories make sure one of them is Blood On Blood

99 Cents ...... Now GO to Amazon or Nook !!

Guest Post

Andrew Nette was kind enough to offer a guest post swap. I have a piece up at his place Pulp Curry so hop over there and see his excellent blog. Andrew is a gifted writer and he has a great book out right now with Snubnose. Ghost Money is a must read for you - check it out today if you haven't already.

His post will be here on Hardboiled Partners very soon. Watch for it.

Thanks once again to Andrew.

-JW

Priorities

Allan Leverone writes great books and sells a bunch of them. This morning I was convinced that he writes great posts too.

We became writing friends earlier this year when Blood on Blood came out and he graciously interviewed me on his blog - and then even more graciously left it up for a long, long time. I mean like forever, to the point where his readers were probably sick of it being up. He's that kind of supportive guy.

Please follow this link to his blog, http://allanleverone.blogspot.com/ read his top post about bravery, true bravery, and then do something you'll honestly feel good about today. Give Allan a comment so he knows he's reaching people about this.  

Thanks, JW

Blood on Blood Audio Book on the Horizon!

You heard me. The Sawyer brothers are going audio!

Jim and I are in the process of reviewing auditions for the narrator, after which production will start.

Can't say for sure, but maybe in time for Christmas, Blood on Blood will be available as an audio book. You'll be able to pick it up at audible.com, iTunes or on Amazon!

Meanwhile, enjoy that preview of chapter 15, which features Jerzy Sawyer.

Open publication - Free publishing - More mystery

If you liked Blood on Blood...

...you might like Frank's new Stefan Kopriva mystery novel, Lovely, Dark, and Deep. You can head over to his website and read the first 50 pages for free. This book is available on Amazon as a Kindle for $2.99. 

What's this one about? Well, it is the second Kopriva novel, and the description goes like this: A city councilman is dead of an apparent suicide. Ex-cop Stefan Kopriva finds himself drawn into the case, serving an unlikely client. Once involved, he discovers that things are not as they seem.

Kopriva is quickly embroiled in dirty city politics. Along the way, he encounters pimps, prostitutes, gangsters, contractors, and the police as he tries to get to the bottom of what happened, and why. That is an outcome hardly anyone wants and so Kopriva must risk his own freedom and his very life to find the answers, no matter how deep the corruption goes.

Give it a try!

And remember, Blood on Blood is on Amazon, too, as well as everywhere else ebooks are sold, and there's a paperback version available, too.

One More Chapter Review

 A Friday Special. I decided to one more chapter review. Not sure this is helping persuade anyone to buy Blood On Blood but hey it can't hurt.

 

Hope you like it.                       

 

 

                              

Open publication - Free publishing - More mystery

Another Chapter Preview

As promised, here is another chapter, featuring Mick, the other Sawyer brother. Give us a shot if you haven't read Blood On Blood yet. 

                                                  EIGHT

 

                                                  Mick

 

I’ve never been to prison.

Jail, sure. In the year and a half I spent on the job, I booked my share of suspects. And I saw the inside of a jail cell for a few weeks on that shit Harris and the Sarge pulled. But prison is a different matter. Or so I hear.

They checked me through with all the efficiency you might expect. Slow and steady. Lots of waiting. And repeating myself. And showing identification. And being searched.

All the while, the guards kept a professional detachment, coupled with a hint of arrogance. There was a time when this would have pissed me off, maybe even pushed me over the edge, but today I didn’t even say a word. All I could remember was wearing the badge myself and talking about how these guys were just wannabe cops who couldn’t make the varsity team.

So maybe I deserved it, yeah?

That’s what I thought for a little while. But after over an hour, I started feeling a little bit like I imagined the cons must feel every day. Something along the lines of “You know what? Fuck these guys.”

So when some guy named Hebert with a thick French Canadian accent asked me for the fifth time who I was there to see, I’d had enough.

“Gar fucking Sawyer,” I snapped and pointed at the paperwork in front of him. “Or can’t you read English?”

Hebert gave me a look that said he routinely scraped things off the bottom of his shoe that rated higher in his book than I did. I radiated back that he rated even lower than that with me.

“You want to watch dat attitude,” he said. “Dere is a process.” He pronounced it pro-sess.

“Your pro-sess is for shit. I’ve answered the same questions half a dozen times.”

“Dis is a prison, Meester Sawyer.” He scowled at me meaningfully.

“No shit. I thought it was the deli.”

His scowl deepened.

I wasn’t finished. “You do know the point is to keep people in these places, right? Not keep them out.”

He blinked at me, as if to say how he’s heard that one a hundred times this week. Then he turned his attention back to the paperwork I’d handed him. “Your prisoner, he is in da hospital wing.”

“I know.”

He slid the papers back under the glass window toward me. “Follow da blue line. Dey will help you dere.”

I thought about asking why in the hell the last guy had sent me to François here in the first place, but could see that he didn’t care one way or the other. For all I knew, the guy at the other end of the blue line would send me right back here. I was there to visit a convict, so they figured jerking me around was just par for the course.

Besides, what the hell was I doing? I wasn’t pissed at Hebert. Much. I was mostly pissed at the fact I was even standing in a fucking prison in the first place. To see the old man.

Still, the whole pro-sess got my Irish up.

“Thanks a lot,” I said. “And say hi to Kermit, you fucking frog.”

Hebert’s eyes flashed in anger. His jaw clenched and set, but he said nothing. Frankly, I was surprised he showed me even that much. Must be a rookie.

“Just follow da blue line,” he said.

I turned and left.

 

The hospital wing was clean and well lit. The smell of antiseptic cleaners overwhelmed something a little more rotten. It was like when you try to scrub cat piss out of a rug. It just won’t leave entirely, so you end up burning a candle instead. Or you get used to the stench. But either way, it’s still there.

Doctor Bradford wasn’t around, but a male nurse led me to the bay where the old man was sleeping. The large room held at least eight beds, separated by privacy sheets. A couple of the patients lay still and asleep. One, a bald man in his fifties hooked up to a dialysis machine, gave me a lascivious look and flickered his tongue at me.

“Hey, I get out soon, sweetie,” he cooed. “We could have a good time then.”

I ignored him.

“Keep it down, Sal,” the nurse said without turning toward him.

“Nice ass,” Sal whispered as I walked past.

We reached a drawn sheet in the corner of the room. The nurse slid it aside and it held it open for me.

I hesitated, then realized that the time for hesitating had passed. I stepped through into my father’s bed area. The nurse followed.

You think you’re prepared for something like this, but you never are. I figured seeing him again would be hard, whether that meant I got so pissed that I pummeled him or maybe broke down and bawled like a kid when he finds out Santa Claus is a racket. And I was right. It sucked the air out of my chest for a long ten seconds while I stared at him. I wasn’t sure what to call the emotion that was rushing in, but I could feel its intensity, whatever it was.

There was something else, though, too. I was somewhat prepared to see him, but I had no idea he’d look this bad. He’d lost forty or fifty pounds since I saw him last. Maybe sixty. And though he was a large man, it had been all height and wiry muscle. Maybe a thin layer of fat during those times he was working a legitimate job and wasn’t on the run and up all hours.

His ashen skin stretched across the bones of his face. Wisps of hair on his chin were all that remained from the thick goatee he used to wear. The hair on his head had turned white. It looked thin and brittle. His sunken eyes glared out at me with barely concealed hatred.

“My eldest,” he rasped to the nurse. He waved a gnarled, bony finger toward me. “Not much to look at, is he?”

The nurse checked his IV drip. “He’s here to see you in your last hours,” he said. “You should be glad for that. Some of our terminal patients die alone.”

The old man coughed into his hands, but shook his head at the nurse’s comment.

I stood, silent and waiting.

The nurse finished checking things, turned and walked away, leaving us alone. We stared at each other without a word. His eyes burned with that old, intense anger that I remembered as a kid, but it had a frailty to it. Like an old broken down snake that could no longer strike out, but if you came close enough, there was still poison aplenty in those fangs.

I took a seat in a hard back chair near the foot of the bed. He watched me, but I made no move to slide closer to him.

“Why’d you call?” I asked finally. “I mean, if all you wanted to do was insult me, you could have sent a card.” I let a sarcastic smile play out on my lips. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t send cards or letters, do you?”

He smiled humorlessly but said nothing.

“It’s probably better in person, though,” I said. “Right? Dad?”

He let out a small phlegm-filled cough, then wiped something away with the back of his hand. “Still the drama princess, ain’t ya, Michelle?”

I shook my head at him. “What do you want from me?”

He wiped the back of his hand on the sheet. I saw a trace of pink in the smear he left there.

“You shouldn’t have gone with the cops,” he said. “That was a mistake.”

“Really? Well, maybe if you’d been around to guide me instead of doing time in Wisconsin, I would’ve made the right choice where that was concerned.”

“I figure you’d have the sense to know better.”

“Apparently not.”

“Didn’t go so well for ya, though, did it?”

I shook my head. “Not so great, no.”

“What happened?”

“I’m sure you get the papers in here. You know what happened.”

“Newspapers are full of shit. Besides, I want to hear it from you.”

I brushed some lint from my jeans. “What does it matter? It didn’t fit me, all right?”

He stared at me like he was trying to stare through me. I held his gaze and kept my expression hard and blank.

Truth is, being a cop had fit me some. Maybe if I grew up in the sixties or seventies, it’d been a perfect fit. Especially in Chicago. But not these days. Not anymore. I couldn’t let him see that, though. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want him to know that a piece of me loved wearing the uniform or that another piece of me could never play by those rules. I just didn’t want to give the old bastard the satisfaction of knowing me any better.

“Didn’t fit, huh?”

“No.”

“Good gig, though. Lots of tail?”

I shrugged. “Some girls like bad boys. Some like a uniform.”

He chuckled, a rumbling sound in his throat. “Yeah, there’s always that.”

“Is that what you called me out here for? Some belated fatherly career guidance?”

“Hell, no. You’ll find your own way, just like I found mine.”

I raised my eyebrows sarcastically, but didn’t comment.

He noticed my expression. “You got anything going, mister big shot?”

I shrugged. “Just working.”

“Working what?”

“A grill.”

He smiled, then lifted his own eyebrows mockingly. “Sounds promising.”

“It’s honest work.”

“Honest work never pays big,” he said.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t come with the possibility of seven to ten, either.”

“You work a job like that, you’re doing time. It’s just another kind of time.”

I was getting tired of Gar Sawyer Philosophy 101. “What do you want from me?” I asked him again.

“Doc told you, didn’t he?” he grunted. “I want to say goodbye. And leave you something.”

“Leave me what?”

He shook his head again. “Not until your brother is here.”

“Jerzy? He’s coming here?”

“Yep.”

“When?”

The old man shrugged. “Could be any minute. Could be whenever.”

Figures. He’ll come in his own time, whatever that is. Jerzy is the old man all over again. Maybe worse. I’ve done bad things in my life. Probably do them again if the opportunity were right. Why the fuck not? Nothing comes to you in this life but what you take, at least in my experience.

But Jerzy? He’s just plain bad. Not even for the sake of being bad. He just is.

“I can’t wait around forever,” I told him.

“You came,” the old man rasped. “Which means you’ll stay.”

I wanted to say no, but I saw that small cross leaning against a cold marble urn, and I knew he was right.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “It won’t be long. One way or the other, it won’t be long.”

 

Sneak Peek

For those of you who may have thought about giving Blood On Blood a try but haven't yet, I have posted below a random chapter as a way to give a little trial to the book. Hopefully you'll like what you read and give us a try. I'll do one more chapter in a day or so that features the other main character, Mick.

Now, one of the Sawyer brothers. Jerzy.

THREE

Jerzy

 

 

The parking garage is full, but I park in a nice big handicapped spot. In the glove compartment is my old wheelchair card and I string it on the rearview mirror. Stole it years ago out of some old hag’s Caddy and it still comes in handy.

Tonight, as with most nights, the Ambrozy Club on the corner of Division and Milwaukee is hopping. I can hear the out-of-date music, or maybe it’s that stupid techno Euro-trash, thumping from here. An old style Chicago lounge to its very roots and the patronage is as Polish as Krakow.

Crossing the street, I pat my leather coat in a couple of spots just to make sure I got everything. Fishing out a cigarette, I light up and start walking down to the far corner of the block. Against the wind.

Motherfuck, it’s cold tonight.

This is a place where I used to do some business from time to time and I have an unpaid bill to collect from someone here. I just got released from Joliet a month ago and now it’s time to make the rounds. Finish up some old deals and start some new ones. I gotta make some appearances. Outta sight, outta mind, right? I always want to be on people’s minds. For almost everybody, I want to be their worst nightmare.

So watch the fuck out world, ‘cause Jerzy is back in town.

Finally, I reach the alcove and walk through the front door into a dark foyer. Place hasn’t changed a bit. There’s the old fashioned coat rack on my left. Same low ceiling and long narrow bar.

There isn’t an open seat in the place and hardly anywhere to even wedge in at the bar. Its standing room only, baby, and I can feel the electricity. Hell, I can smell it. Music, smoke, women and booze await me. Speakin’ of women, after business gets done, that wouldn’t be all bad tonight, either.

One problem, though, and now it’s standing right in front of me. When I came in, a big bastard who had been perched on a stool over to the far right stood up like he’d been shot out of a damn cannon. Big tanks that lumber you can handle, but the ones that move like a big cat are usually trouble.

I look him up and down.

“Who the fuck are you s’posed to be? You gonna check my I.D. for being underage or sumthin?” I asked him, and I bowed up a little and shifted over to my left. Just a little bit. If I’m in too tight I can’t throw that first shot very well.

“You a member?” he asked. “Can’t come in here anymore if you’re not. Private club.”

“No shit?” I ask him, all wide eyed.

“No shit.”

“Ambrozy still own this place?”

The guy just stares at me, chewing on that.

So, here we are then. I stare at him some more. Music pumps around us and the multicolored, revolving lights play around the room and across us. A girl screams over in the far corner, says something in Polish and then laughs hysterically.

The big guy smiles at me now, showing a gap where an incisor should be. Nice little scar running from his chin to almost his ear too. So somebody has snuck one or two in. It ain’t impossible, anyway.

That makes me grin.

“Yeah,” he says, “the old man still owns it and he pays me good to keep smartasses like you the fuck out.”

“If Ambrozy stills owns this place,” I smile again and give him a wink, “and you, then I’m a member you goofy bastard. Now step the fuck aside.”

He shook his head. “Last time, puke. Leave, or I’ll put you on the floor.”

I think on that for a quick second and get ready to hit him square in the throat. He is wide open to that. It can bring you down quick. Seen a guy killed that way one time. This fucker has a neck like a goddamn giraffe or something. Sure doesn’t fit the rest of his gorilla-ass body. Never seen anything like it.

“Now!” the big man says and begins to move forward.

Behind him, I hear a voice yelling my name.

“Jerz! Hey Jerzy! What the hell? How you doin’, man?” It’s Patrik Dudek peeking around the shoulder of the big bouncer and waving me in. “Come on and let me buy me you a drink, ya prick. On the house.”

I spread my arms and look at him. “Patty, look at you with the white shirt and tie. Whatta you doin’, man? You the manager of this dump or somethin’?”

Patrik comes around the big guy and gives him the look. “Kos, is there some kinda problem here? Whatta you trying to do here?”

The big guy‘s smile is gone now and so is his posture. The air has gone out of him. In fact it’s rushed out of him.

“Kos, you got no sense. You got no history here, either. This is Jerzy. Jerzy Sawyer.” He gets into the big guy’s face even more. “Do you have any fucking idea who he is?”

The bouncer’s eyes get a little big with my name. “He didn’t tell me his name, boss.”

“D’ja ask him?”

“Sorry, boss.”

“This guy’s done some very good things for my family down through the years. He’s helped us. I grew up with him. My dad’d do anything for Jerzy.”

Everybody is staring at each other.

Finally, I say, “So look Patrik, c’mon, please don’t embarrass me or this guy.” I look at the big ape. “Kos? It’s Kos, right?”

“Yeah. And, well, I’m sorry, Mr. Sawyer.” I could tell he was only saying that for the benefit of Patrik but it helped put him in place a little more.

“Jesus, Kos, don’t call me mister. I ain’t that fuckin’ old.” I laugh and shake the guys paw. I’m giving him the best grip I got and clamp it on him. The guy looks down at my hand and his expression changes. He tries to tighten up on the shake but it’s too late. I smile some more at him.

“Hey Patrik, he’s just tryin’ to do what you pay    him to do right? So, whaddya do? Bust his balls.”

I’m laughing it up now.

Patrik claps me on the shoulder. “All right, good. We’re all straight here. Jerzy, you’re damn right I’m the manager now. So let’s go. There’s a bottle of Belvedere in my office calling us.”

Patrik leads the way to the back. As we walk by Kos, I grab the big guy around the neck and fake a punch to his ribs. Playful like, all shits and grins. He grins back at me and then I tighten the grip around his neck and lean in. The music is really loud again now. I swear it’s the fuckin’ Bee Gees from Saturday Night Fever. The colored disco lights wash over us again.

I motion him and he gives me his ear.

“So anyway, just know this. I’m gonna hurt you. Like real soon.”

I give him one more real hard yank on the neck, smile my best smile and follow Patrik. I know he’s watching me walk away and I like that.

We weave through the crowd at the Ambrozy. The men move aside and a few nod at me. The women look at me and think what I’m thinking. I like that, too.

 

Hell, I like it all.

BOOM

 

The safety is off.

Tomorrow is a big day folks. Shotgun Honey is coming out with Both Barrels.

Without doubt, you need to get this one. It will be one of the best of it's kind. This dog'll hunt as we used to say. To say I feel lucky to even be in on this is the understatement of the year. Thanks to Ron and everyone at Shotgun Honey for shoe horning me in on this winner.
http://www.shotgunhoney.net/2012/09/coming-soon-both-barrels.html .

When you look at the talented folks who have stories in this great collection, it's truly amazing. Big names. Big talent. Let's put it this way, with a group like this, I don't mind having the 29th best story in the anthology.

Just look at this writer lineup. What a cover, what an editing crew....what are you waiting for!

Sequel

Just a short note here. Frank and I have basically finished our second book, a sequel to Blood on Blood. It’s being worked over, proofed, prodded, pushed around and cleaned up. We stayed with the same recipe in terms of how we would actually write it; kept it first person, continued to alternate our chapters, characters and writing. We tried to keep a similar pace and stay as close as we could to the overall style of the first book. We wanted similarities and connection.

This book will have its marked differences as well though. Without letting the cat out of the bag, I can say that the new story has an almost entirely new cast of characters. It has a new setting, a totally new story line and a different all around tone to it. Make no mistake about it though, it’s a continuance of our first story and there is a third being cooked up right now. Trilogy has a nice ring to it.

The writing collaboration thing with Frank continues to work like a charm for me. For him, I’m sure it’s like a sweaty nightmare that won’t end. A slow motion dream where he’s running in place - trying to get away so badly but he just can’t move fast enough.

We’re very excited about this second book and can’t wait for it to be released. ‘This second book’ does have a title and we’ll be out with that soon. I’ll let Frank decide when to announce it and some other details as they come.

And finally, (I heard that sigh) please help us spread the word on Blood on Blood. If you’ve read it, we thank you very much and hope you enjoyed it. If you haven’t tried it yet, we would be thrilled if you gave it a try. We’re biased, but we think you might like this story and the one coming. To anyone that has thought about it, but maybe just hasn’t gotten around to it, we would love to get a few more reviews up on Amazon. To date we have a grand total of 2. We’re thinking of bribing you if we have to, or even blackmail if necessary. We have no scruples.



 



R. Thomas Brown has for some unexplained reason, or maybe temporary confusion of some kind, agreed to do a guest post for us here at Hardboiled Partners in Crime. He was also kind enough to let me post a rambling movie review over at his place Criminal Thoughts.

We're thrilled to have him here and before he changes his mind I'm posting this baby. Ron discusses the current state of book stores and where we unfortunately find ourselves. 

While you're at it, go get Hill Country if you haven't already. I guarantee you won't put it down until you finish it. Without further ado, here is Ron.



Bookstores, A Lament

I love bookstores. Most writers love bookstores. Being in the presence of all the shelves. Finding little gems tucked away that you’d never heard of, but seem like the book you’d been wanting to read for ages. New books. Used books. I love them all and the stores that hold them.
 

Not long ago, I was lucky enough to visit Powell’s in Portland. Massive place. Felt like I was going to get lost in there, but it was wonderful. My wife was at a conference, and I killed a few hours just roaming the rooms and aisles. Fantastic time, and worth all the pennies I dropped while there.
 

But, that trip seemed like a final hurrah for my bookstore adoration. We have a nice, big Barnes and Noble near the house. Pretty store, comfortable, a nice place to grab a coffee and relax. But not so much for my book buying.
 

Now, the children and teen section is great. Almost always has what I’m looking for. The suggested reading displays are a nice mix of books by topic or relating to some literary interest. A good mix of fiction, non-fiction, hobby, etc. Really great.
 

And nothing like the general and genre fiction areas. What remains of them (now less than a quarter of the store) is almost entirely big names. Sure, I can find Gone Girl, but that’s hardly a discovery worth going to the store to find. It wasn’t always that way. Even just a year ago, I found a good number of books from smaller presses.
 

Of course, there used to be sections for mystery, horror, speculative, romance, literature, and a few other genres that I never really went toward, but held 4 or 5 shelves to themselves. Now, it’s down to about ten aisles total, plus the table of new releases. That’s about it.
 

Which means, that while I can find what I know I want (sometimes, though not the last six books I intended to pick up and didn’t want to wait for shipping) I’ve really lost my confidence in finding something new when browsing. So, mainly it’s a trip to the younger section, looking at the really cool stuff my ten year-old is reading, and then heading out.
 

I don’t know if this is typical, or if it has any greater meaning for the future of book sales or that whole discussion. What I do know is that I still like to go there. I still love the atmosphere. I still love being inspired by what I see and read about (despite the fact that my son is now demanding I write a book for him.) I just don’t expect to find anything for me, and have basically stopped looking when I go.
 

So, how do I discover new books? Maybe I’ll post on that later.
 

But what about you? Is this happening at your local stores? Different for indie stores vs chain? How do you find books?

A Big Thank You

Chad Rohrbacher has an interview with us posted over at his place. Check it out over there, he's got a fantastic blog. http://rohrbacher.wordpress.com/

Heartfelt thanks to Chad for having us!

TODAY ONLY

Just got word from Nigel Bird that his novel In Loco Parentis is available today for FREE at Amazon. This kind of thing should be illegal. No way should this kind of top notch, quality writing ever be free...

BUT IT IS TODAY. So go get it!

http://www.amazon.com/In-Loco-Parentis-ebook/dp/B0082FR9ZO

Print Version Available Now!

We wanted to let everyone know that Blood on Blood is now available in print! Follow the link if you'd like to order one now. 

http://www.amazon.com/Blood-on-ebook/dp/B008TB9JAO/ref=zg_bsnr_157312011_25

If you choose to give us a try and whether it's ebook or print copy, we sincerely hope you enjoy the book. Maybe even pass the word if the spirit moves you. Thanks everybody. 

Quotable Notables

If you have given Blood on Blood a read, we truly appreciate it and hope that you liked it. If you have not read it yet, there are some folks below who have said some awfully nice things to convince you to do so. I would go with what they say anyway, I'm a little biased.

"Dark and nasty good. I haven't had this much fun reading about two brothers since Cain and Abel." --

-Brad Parks, Shamus- and Nero-Award-winning author of THE GIRL NEXT DOOR

“So hard-boiled I’m still sweating from the steam! A hell of a good story told by a pair of aces, guaranteed to jump-start your heart from the very first word. Add this to your reading list for sure!”
-Shane Gericke, bestselling author of TORN APART

“Veteran Frank Zafiro and debut Jim Wilsky have teamed up to deliver a stunning punch to the head with BLOOD ON BLOOD. Tightly plotted and perfectly executed, BLOOD ON BLOOD grabs your attention like a shot of Belvedere and a beautiful blonde. If you like your fiction boiled hard, don’t pass this one up.”
-Al Leverone, author of THE LONELY MILE

“BLOOD ON BLOOD is a straight shot of raw, fiery, undiluted noir. Dangerous dudes and even more dangerous dames conspire, connive, and collide with deadly results in a bare-bones, no-nonsense thriller that takes no prisoners. A definite must-read for those who take their crime fiction strong and dark.”
-JD Rhoades, author of GALLOWS POLE

“With excellent, strong writing, Frank Zafiro and Jim Wilsky take us deep into the underbelly of Chicago’s worst side. where ethnically divided mobs wage war over drugs, prostitution, and any other trade that will bring in a profit. Strength and fear rule, and a fist in the mouth or a bullet in the gut is only another day at the office. They also take us deep into the minds and hearts of two sons of the same father so much alike in some ways, yet their common blood is a line the sand no bonds can cross. Their father taught them, “Don’t trust nobody,” and should have added, “not even your own brother.” If you like it mean and menacing, down and dirty, Blood on Blood is right up your dark alley.”
-Earl Staggs, Derringer Award-Winning Author

“Blood On Blood is an intense and truly addictive thriller that captures you immediately and holds you bound until the last page. A fast paced, absorbing crime novel, with characters who still linger darkly on the edge of my thoughts.”

-Julia Madeleine, author of THE TRUTH ABOUT SCARLETT ROSE

“Blood on Blood is a gripping tale of two brothers racing against time to find missing diamonds in Chicago…[t]he authors keep readers guessing in a very satisfying way.”
-Brian Triplett, Examiner.com

“[T]he last line…will hit you right between the eyes. I didn’t expect the ending; the action was so relentless and fast-moving I didn’t have time to consider the possible outcome—but it works, and works very neatly…This is one of the most brutal and violent books from Frank Zafiro yet. [Zafiro and Wilsky] have produced a book that will be popular with those who like their crime raw and hard.”
-Karen Treanor, New Mystery Reader Magazine

“Blood on Blood never lets up. Zafiro and Wilsky give us brotherly hate and a desire to please a cold-as-ice dad who should’ve been castrated at birth. And of course a blonde bitch to complicate things. Who gets the blonde? And the ice? Ex-cop Mick, or gangster Jerzy?”
-Cindy Rosmus, author and editor of Yellow Mama.

Allan Leverone

Slide on over to Allan Leverone's blog today. http://allanleverone.blogspot.com/

He graciously invited me for an interview and I all but tackled him accepting his offer. As most of you know already, Allan has become a damn juggernaut in the writing of a long string of successful Thrillers and Horror stories. Did I mention him being a 3 time Derringer finalist  and a Pushcart nominee? Guy is seriously good.

So what in the hell am I darkening his doorway for? To try and sell Blood on Blood of course...now there's something new huh? Really though, we had a very enjoyable question and answer exchange. Allan's a great guy and a new friend of mine.

Just One

 

Just one of these babies is all we're asking for a copy of
Blood on Blood. 

It's either that or a Subway Foot Long Sandwich and Subway is doing just fine, so hey....tonight or tomorrow just go here;
Amazon Blood on Blood
or
Barnes & Noble Blood on Blood
Then go eat.

Please.