99 Cent Nookbooks - Authors please promote your novels here.

[Harris Tobias]

Square Sally.jpgWritten by celebrated childrens author, Harris Tobias, Square Sally in Circletown tells the story of a young girl in a strange town and how she goes from feeling like an outsider to friendship and acceptance. Told in an amusing and simple way, the story deals with diversity, alienation and friendship in a colorful and original way. Suitable for children ages 3 to 9 years. On sale now for 99¢. Here's the link: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/squa...=2940013795723

[sea minor]

Did you know that my hard-hitting novella, Smoke http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/smok...re=allproducts has been nominated for a Spinetingler Award in the category for Best Novella. That's a bit like being nominated for an Oscar in the crime-fiction world.

If you've read it and enjoyed it, then I'd be really grateful if you'd take the time to pop on over and vote for it at the following link:

http://www.spinetinglermag.com/2012/...-best-novella/

If you haven't and you're interested, it's only 99c at Barnes and Noble.

Many thanks for taking the time,

nigel

[RebeccaBurns]

Painting the Hay Bales - a short story by 2012 Pushcart Prize nominee, Rebecca Burns, available to download from Kindle Books, at a cost of $0.99 or £0.77.

"An unexpected phone call; a reminder of the past. Mikey, affluent city broker, receives news of a small tragedy which, although slight in its direct impact upon him, tugs him back to his family and prompts an over-due reconsideration of priorities."

2800 words, originally published in Controlled Burn, a journal produced by the Associate in Fine Arts/Creative Writing degree program of Kirtland Community College, USA.

[ekedstrom]

My YA adventure novel Undermountain is currently on sale of $0.99! http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/unde...=undermountain

Six teens and a grizzled old guide embark on a ten day expedition into the wilds of the Canadian Rockies. Some came for adventure. Some came to learn. Two came to escape.

For sixteen year old Danny Michaelson the hike is freedom from his troubled home life.

For Breyona Lewis the hike distances her from a terrible memory—of an assault she denies even to herself.

But when Danny and Breyona encounter a creature out of legend—an enormous beast they immediately tag as "bigfoot"—the hike suddenly becomes a race for their lives.

Swept into a secret underground city and told they may never leave, the hikers find themselves in the middle of a war between the bigfeet and their rebellious servant race, the tangoga. In their desperate attempt to escape, Danny and Breyona uncover the terrible plans that both races have for Earth.

To escape, to live, to save the Earth—Danny must fight. Breyona must surrender.

[amy_saunders]

My mystery novel, The Jester's Apprentice, is now available for 99 cents!


jestersapprenticethumb.jpg

Philippa always loved a little intrigue, which made Edric an irresistible catch. That and his smoldering violet stare.

But when he disappears on "business," teasing her with promises of a more exciting life, Philippa's only aid is a masked stalker who sends her out on midnight spy sessions.

While unraveling Edric's secrets, Philippa stumbles into the path of a legendary arsonist. And his idea of intrigue may turn Philippa's world to ash.

You can read the first chapter at my website. Purchase The Jester's Apprentice at B&N and Smashwords.

Thanks!
Amy

[sea minor]

I'm celebrating my nomination for the Best Novella Award over at Spinetingler for Smoke - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/smok...oke+nigel+bird

Smoke was also the selection of top British author Gerard Brennan over at Blasted Heath and their new #broth (Brilliant Reads On The Heath) slot - http://blastedheath.com/?page_id=4901

I'm also celebrating a news item about said nomination, though they've managed to turn me into a woman. Honest! http://www.eastlothiancourier.com/ne...r-and-revenge/

nigella?

[julesnz]

My historical/contemporary novel is 99 cents at Barnes and Noble and has had a couple of nice reviews

The Secret Keeper:
Daniel Horowitz wins a prestigious music competition and stands on the brink of a stunning career as a virtuoso violinist. But he’s also a fourteen year old Jewish kid who loves to play baseball with his friends. His talent has come to the attention of famed Spanish classical conductor and competiton judge, Rafael Santamaria Gomez, and he takes a special interest. He invites Daniel to his annual Symposium for young talented musicians in Washington D.C. But when his parents forbid him his hobby, Daniel refuses to play the violin.

Daniel’s great-grandparents were wealthy Berlin bankers and owned a superb collection of musical instruments, including a rare 1742 Guarneri del Gesu violin, but lost them when their home was looted in 1939. Their son, Daniel's grandfather, Simon, shares with Rafael the story of his family's destruction at the hands of the Nazis and his six year struggle to survive in Dachau.

The conductor begins to suspect that the magnificent del Gesu violin owned by his friend and powerful arts patron, billionaire Russian ex-pat Sergei Valentino, is the same instrument. Sergei's grandfather was a Russian General who helped to liberate Berlin in 1945 and he brought the violin back for Sergei's beloved aunt, Yulena, who was a concert violinist. She fought the Stalinist regime at every turn and when they suspected she was planning to defect, she was murdered by the KGB whilst in London on tour.

So who does the violin belong to? The family who owned it for 150 years or the family who have owned it for the last 65? Both have suffered huge losses and survived the darkest times in human history and both have enormous emotional attachments to the instrument. How does Rafael prove its provenance? Then how does he get it back and what will that cost him? And will Daniel agree to play it? So many secrets, held tight for so many years, the shocking revelations will be explosive!

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-...+secret+keeper

Cheers

[RL Beers]

ASCOD Cover new.jpg
A Slight Case of Death
A Tony Mandolin Mystery

By Robert Lee Beers
Chapter 1

My name is Mandolin, Tony Mandolin. Yeah, go ahead, get the jokes and puns out of your system, I’ve heard more than my share pretty much all of my thirty-plus years. What I do is find things, all sorts and I’ve gotten so good at it that some folks tend to think I’m gifted with some sort of ESP or mumbo jumbo. No, I’m just stubborn.

Over the years through a combination of word of mouth and, to be honest, dumb luck, I’d managed to solve some pretty big cases and unfortunately embarrass a few influential members of San Francisco’s police force.

I keep an office which could have a second career as a large coat closet. It’s located in a second floor walk-up in an office building not located in one of the fog city’s better business districts. This month my in basket held mostly bills and my out basket held a partially eaten deli sandwich. I was busying myself with trying to find out what word fit in the Chronicle’s crossword that used seven letters with hardly any vowels when she came through my door.

It took a couple of seconds before I managed to get my eyes in focus. Thick red curls cascaded past her shoulders framing a heart shaped face. She looked like Jessica Rabbit, only real. “Uh…” I said intelligently; blinding her with my witty repartee.

She smiled but it looked forced, “Are you Tony Mandolin?”

I gave up on the crossword and concentrated on the vision before me. She was wearing red to go along with her hair and the outfit looked like it cast more than what I paid in rent last year. A whiff of very expensive perfume floated my way and I coughed, “ Um, yes, that’s me. What can I do for you, Miss…?”

“I need your help.” I noticed she’d avoided mentioning her name.

I leaned back in my chair, wondering who this lady was. It was obvious she was fishing way below her station. “What sort of help?”

“Your ad says you find things.”

“That’s right.”

“What kinds of things?”

“All kinds.”

She chewed that over for a couple of seconds and sat in the old wooden chair across from my desk. Like the rest of the furniture in my office it had no hope of ever making the Antiques Road Show.

“I see…” her reply came out in a voice so small I had to lean forward and ask her to repeat it. “…My sister.”

“What about your sister, Miss…?” I tried again. You never know, sometimes information can be tricked rather than dug out.

I still had to strain to hear what she said, “She’s missing. She didn’t come home and it’s been two days.”

Probably a kid sister, I thought. With that kind of competition, you could see where the younger one would feel unfairly put upon. The kid most likely ran away to a friend’s house, an easy job for easy money. “I see,” I said, “What’s she look like?”

She looked me straight in the eye then and said. “Like me, we’re twins.”

Hoo boy. I leaned further back in my chair and considered. The city has its own red carpet set. A pair of twins looking like that had to have some sort of notoriety. A thread of memory began nibbling around in the back of my brain. You’re obviously worried about her; I thought, what aren’t you telling me?”

I decided to try the direct approach, “All right, Miss whoever you are, I’ll need to know a lot more before I can even decide to help you. I’ve tried twice know with broad hints, but you’re giving me nothing to work with here.”

A bit of heat inched into her eyes. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“Same here,” I said and waited. We were playing a game of cat and mouse and I wasn’t sure who was who.

Her deep breath spoke volumes. “Very well, my name is Roxanne, Roxanne Driver.”

All of a sudden my interest went into deep freeze. She knew I recognized the name, I lived in the Western US, didn’t I? The Drivers were one of those families everyone reads about but no one outside of certain elite circles ever meets. Miss Driver and her twin were heirs to a fortune some governments would like to control. According to the papers, Daddy earned a cool two billion last year, but only because business was a bit slow. This was way out of my pay grade. The Drivers lived in a highly rarified atmosphere and had for a couple centuries. Their great granddaddies did all the work, while the last couple of generations have spent their time in degeneration and other enlightening pastimes. Contrary to type, the current patriarch, Randall Driver the third, spent most of his time buying and selling businesses, he was the odd one, a worker. The man was responsible for dozens of companies and thousands of careers. He petrified me.

I shook my head and picked up one of the papers cluttering its top. I held it out to her. “Fill this out and I’ll see if I can work you into my schedule.” You could have shipped fish with the temperature of my voice. I wanted her out of my office…now.

She didn’t look at the paper. Her lower lip pouted and she sighed, “I…see.”

I turned back to my papers, heard a click and looked up into the barrel of a 38.

I hadn’t noticed the handbag; it was too small. Who would have believed a gun that size would have fit into a bag that small? She held it rock-steady, pointed at yours truly.

Mama Mandolin did not raise a fool. I kept my eyes level with hers and placed both hands on the desk. “Are you planning on using that thing, Miss Driver?”

Her aim remained steady, “Only if I have to.”

I nodded. “And that reason would be…”

She didn’t reply. The muzzle of that gun started to look like the mouth of the city’s water main.

We sat there for what seemed like hours, Roxanne holding a bead on me and me trying not to sweat. Finally, she let out a breath and murmured, so softly it seemed like she was talking more to herself than to me, “I love my sister.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I can see where that’d make any woman pull a gun on a stranger.”

That was stupid. Her eyes flashed and she brought up her other hand, moving into the Weaver stance. “I won’t be mocked, Mister Mandolin.”

I held up my hands. Right, as if they’d stop a .38 slug. “Look, I’m sorry if I was rude; your people and mine, they tend not to mix too well, okay? Your sister is missing. All right, how long has she really been missing? Was it just the two days? Where did you last see her? What are her habits? Who does she hang around with? Have you gone to the police? I don’t know about other departments, but there’s a couple of detectives downtown I know who are pretty heads up when it comes to solving missing persons cases. With your family I’m sure they’d do something.”

My rapid-fire questions rattled her. The gun lowered as she looked away in thought. Maybe I wouldn’t have to change my pants after all.

“I can’t go to the police,” she stated in a voice so flat it was almost monotone.

“Why not?” I asked. Her daddy owned more than half of the bayside waterfront and most of city hall, and she couldn’t go to the police? They’d fall all over themselves trying to please her just because of daddy’s money. The Chief would probably order her lunch while she waited.

She crossed her arms under her breasts and said, “Because I can’t, let’s leave it at that.”

“Ok.” I make a point of never arguing with a lady with a gun, even if it was no longer pointed at me. Closing off that option also left out Pat Monahan, one of the few city detectives who didn’t hate my guts. “So how long has she been missing?”

“Like I said, two days.”

I looked at the clock stuck to the wall behind her. It read 11:05am. The gun still dangled from her fingers. I swallowed what I had been about to say and tried a route more suitable to survival. “Has she done anything like this before? Tell me something about her usual morning routine.”

She chewed her lower lip. I could see she still had trust issues. “Look, Miss Driver, if you want me to help you, I’ll need to know some things, some of them probably personal.”

“Very well,” she sighed, “I’ll tell you. Last night Randi and I went slumming. We had heard about other girls doing it and having a great time.” She smiled tentatively, “We thought it would be fun, sort of a guilty pleasure.”

I managed to keep my face professionally interested. Put me down for an Academy Award. “Go on.”

“At first,” she tilted her eyes toward the ceiling, “It was fun. Most of the men in our circle have considerably higher opinions of themselves than they deserve.”

The women too, but that’s just me.

She continued, “But I found myself becoming bored after the first couple of hours. As diverting as the men were, we had nothing in common and they were only interested in one thing.”

Welcome to the human race sweetheart. “So, you left, but your sister was still partying?”
She looked away. “Yes.”

“And that’s the last time you saw her?”

“Yes.”

“Where was this?”

“A bar called the Summersault. We had never been there before. I usually stay away from that portion of the city.”

I wasn’t surprised. The club she mentioned sat in the 600 block of Eddy Street. At night, the seedier elements prowled the shadows and alleys in search of prey. Take a girl with Randi’s looks; add a few measures of gin, shake and serve. Easy pickings, that is unless Roxanne’s twin got lucky and was still sleeping off last night in someone else’s bed. Say, a someone else with the dough to equal his taste.

“I know the neighborhood. What time did you two separate?”

She shivered, hugging herself. This one wore all her emotions on her skin. “I’m not sure. I’d had a little too much to drink. It was after midnight when the cab dropped me off at home. I went straight to bed. When I woke, it was after 9. That’s when I noticed Randi hadn’t come home at all.”

“How could you tell?” I think I already knew, but I had to ask.

“Her bed had not been slept in. Our rooms sit across from each other and the maids don’t come until after 10.”

I nodded. “Ok. Do you recall anyone in particular paying attention to her more than anyone else? Did she seem attracted to anyone over and above the other men you saw there?”

She shook her head; red curls flew. “No, not that I can recall.”

“Have you got a photo of her I can take with me? Believe it or not, most folks don’t have that much of a memory.”

This question moved the gun back into the handbag. I waited for the photo as my insides held a parade in celebration.
“Here,” she held out a wallet-sized photo.

I had to force myself not to glance back and forth between her and the photo. Randi and Roxanne were indeed twins, identical right down to the tiny mole to the left of their identical pouty mouths. In spite of their family history and fortunes, the girls were stunners. I shouldn’t have much trouble raising a trail.

I nodded at the shot, trying to look thoughtful rather than licentious. “This’ll do. Now, about my fee…”

She reached into the handbag again and pulled out a horse-choking, thick wad of bills. She dropped the roll onto my desk. “I don’t believe in dickering, Mr. Mandolin, it wastes too much time. If that isn’t sufficient let me know. I just want you to find my sister,” her voice faltered, “even if…”

I eyed the money, “Yeah, sure.” That zero I had added had gained friends. The outer bill was a Franklin. “I’ll need a contact number.”

A business card landed next to the wad. “That is my private number. Leave a message if I don’t answer.” Then she walked out, her expensive perfume stayed to flirt a little longer.

I picked up the card. It was glossy white with black printing, a phone number and nothing else, not even an area code. The rich, they like to do it in style.

[Picaquill]

I have some short stories, a novella and short poem all listed at $0.99 each. I work in PJ's so with few other options am hoping the reduced prices will get me some visibility Find me at: http://amazon.com/author/norhelmstaren

[aecardenas]

VALENTINE’S WEEK SALE!!

THE GESTALT MAN is available for the incredibly low price of $0.99 now until the end of February 14th! So get it now and make your Valentine's Day celebration even more special.

Barnes & Noble Nook:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-...he+gestalt+man
thegestaltmancoverart.jpg
THE GESTALT MAN
A Psychological Thriller
By
Anthony E. Cardenas

SYNOPSIS:
Michael Jeck suffers from severe dissociative identity disorder as a result of a series of traumatic incidents in his childhood. He has five separate and individual personalities—Kara, a brainy, intellectual woman trained as a medical examiner; Nick, an aggressive hit first ask questions later guy; Alex, the suave, sophisticated, educated man; Telly, a brainy teenager who is an expert with computers and technology; and Sara, a mute eight year old girl who creates mature, beautiful works of art to express herself.

Thanks to years of experimental psychotherapy, Jeck has managed to gain control over his five other personalities, not by suppressing them, but by living with them. He then uses their specific skills and talents to form a kind of think tank, capable of effectively solving complex and difficult crimes. In this way, he and his five personalities function as a unified whole, rather than individual parts—a truly gestalt personality.

Michael Jeck is now a special agent with the FBI and has garnered a reputation as an eccentric genius that can solve any case. Recently, however, he has been unable to crack a strange series of murders that appear to be completely different but also thinly connected to each other. Concerned that his top agent may be psychologically unfit, the Assistant Director of the FBI decides to assign Jeck a partner for the very first time.

Enter Grayson O’Neal, an FBI agent from the behavioral sciences division, whose mysterious past and strange eagerness to work with Agent Jeck causes a newfound tension amongst the normal “group” dynamic.

Together, Jeck and Grayson work to solve the mystery of the serial killings, at the same time trying to come to terms with their respective pasts, and their uncertain futures.

WARNING: The book is intended for mature audiences and contains graphic violence, sex and disturbing imagery. So basically if this was a movie, it would be Rated R.

Thanks