Sharon Sala Shares Information Related to Author Rights by Bartz Anthropic - Writers Beware of AI - Along with Responsive Thoughts from Moi!

 Sharon Sala

If you haven't learned about her latest book, check it out while you are here! 

Over the weekend, I was notified once more, by Bartz-Anthropic settlement, that they have identified additional titles of my books to add to the Bartz-Anthropic claims, bringing the total to 53.

Those are books of mine that were used without my knowledge or consent to inform AI.

There are hundreds and hundreds of writers like me, who's works have been impacted by this egregious action and now that the entities who pirated them lost the lawsuit, they are required to pay back X

amount of money per title to each writer who's works were stolen.

It doesn't make up for what I consider a slaughter of our intellectual properties, but it damn sure will make them sorry.

It boggles the mind how insidious the use of AI has become.

I hope I'm long gone before it takes over the world, because it will unless somebody steps on the brakes.

Those Terminator movies are no longer Sci-Fi.

They're just warnings of what's to come if we continue to ignore.

I'm so fed up with lying politicians, traitors to our country, hackers, and the robo calls from scammers.

May you all rot where you stand.

Previously Shared on Facebook...

~~~~

At the same time, I'll take the time to share what has been happening with me... related to that machine that controls our lives to a lesser or greater extent...

But first, a response to Sharon and others who are facing this major, very profitable for criminals problem... And computer people seem to be among that group... I'm willing to give them a slight break because I've personally been working with computers before most programmers have even been born...

And there are others in the United States like me that know little if anything about the technical side of technology and its...benefits...

KEY TO THIS IS THAT THEY MUST KNOW ACTUAL BUSINESS PRACTICES, SUCH AS ACCOUNTING, WRITING, CREATING ARTISTIC RESULTS DIRECTLY FROM ONE BRAIN AND PLACEd ON SOME FORM OF SHARING SUCH AS A BOOK, A GRAPHIC PICTURE, AND MORE... In my opinion, the creative energy of a human brain cannot be replaced by any level of computer...

I was responsible for all information related to West Virginia University facilities, including how they were used, which department was approved to use them, etc. When I first started, much of this was being done manually, and then, at that time, spreadsheets of data codes were submitted for keypunching staff. Yes, so long ago, some of you may not even know the word keypunch. My point is that a certain, prescribed set of data codes was created to develop and maintain a database of all facilities used by WVU across the State. At that time, we were required to provide all such data to the federal government.

But let's move ahead to today, right now, in the United State. Most of the data gathering has been removed. Indeed, the very first act of this president was to delete the federal government data center... and brought in DOGE... That group set about destroying departments, removing the money, moving it to some place nobody knows, not even Congress. Indeed, recently we learned that a DOGE employee provided the entire social security data file to a group outside of the government... We know purchases have been made such as planes for the former head of homeland security and even when she was fired, it was retained for whatever anybody wanted to do with it... Yes, we all know that billions of our tax dollars are being used for anything and everything that the republican party can think of, including a illegal demolition of the Historically Preserved White House and an ongoing attempt to build a ballroom... Which, by the way, the latest on that is that they are working to actually use tax dollars for that, even though the president claimed no tax dollars would be used... He lies about everything...

So why no complementary videos?

Here's a documentation of one of the worst times in my life (dealing only with the computer crap part, LOL) of it all, for right now...

Here's what happened:

With medical issues taking a lot of my personal time, I had not been able to deal with the routine daily happenings on my computer. Reading and sharing about books is my passion and has been for over 20 years... but it had also become an escape from the reality of what is happening technologically... Specifically, the end result that computers play in my own life--and possibly in many other lives who use a computer for their daily careers, such as our wonderful writers...

I knew Windows was updating. Had already determined that my old computer didn't have the capacity to accept the upgrade! My computer seemed to be working fine so I decided, from a purely financial standpoint not to worry about getting support from Windows... I was wrong...

Or, worse, whoever or whatever had invaded my old computer had been there for some unknown period... Who knows?...

Which leads to a blanket statement for ALL sites on the Internet!

Your staff creates a software program without regard to USERS... A definite no-no from one who managed development of systems from the bottom up... And I'm talking from somebody who knows the extremely detailed activities involved in each individual procedure or process...

Let me give you the most recent example... I will be getting back to my old computer, but today's example is perfect for the issue. I wanted to add a video to this post. I opened up YouTube and instantly I was told I had a "Block Ads" on my computer... I didn't put on a Block Ads at this point on a new computer... The popup showed me a set of possible extensions, none of which I had... I marked other and went to my extensions... There was a malware, Norton, Pinterest and AddtoAny...As far as I, the user, am aware, blocking ads is not part of these activities. I followed the instructions as best I could even though I have not had problems with Pinterest or Add-To before and the Malware is now crossed off... Norton remains... I am left with an extension that does not take you to the Norton site and I cannot follow the procedures... NOW WHAT?! I the user have seen some ads on YouTube that I don't support but I have no idea whether they are a threat... So...in order to create this blog post, I would have to stop, do lots of research to find out how to allow YouTube to be used on my computer...Or

I'd have to pay to use YouTube... Because Norton might discover there is unsafe material on YouTube ads???

Which leads me back to the scary mess I got into last week...

Picture this, because I can't reproduce it...

The sequence of these events might be important...

I had just had a popup from Yahoo which related to using their site. I do have a Yahoo email account, but I had not used it for years, so eliminating that was no big deal, so since I was in the midst of loading Norton, I just closed the popup without any action to continue with the installation I had already paid for...

Popups immediately started flying at me...They were about 3 by 6 in size, one right after the other so fast that you could not even read what was being said... I can't even remember whether I saw one that read do not turn off your computer, or whether it was a voice, I was so rattled... Because I had one response to that warning coming out of nowhere... I turned off my computer as fast as I could!

When I later came back and turned on the computer, I was able to proceed with the installation... but I wanted to do a full scan immediately after what had occurred... So I proceeded but got a list of type of scans that were available and chose one called Startup... (I have this running now on a daily basis and watched this morning to see what actually happened--I'll come back to that soon...

So when I had just proceeded to attempt to do a Startup Scan, it started and I immediately got an error statement that said that the computer could not be started... After several times of manually turning off the computer because it was stuck and would not allow a shutdown... - Now realize that this computer had been fully working up until the time I started to work with Norton...OR had refused to agree with Yahoo... (more on that later as well)

Days went by and I tried as many things as I could think of, except one, which worked... I returned the computer to factory status. I "thought" this meant that it would be back to originally set for use... Instead I got screens so technical that I could not even begin to deal with what I saw...

About that time, I decided that purchasing a new computer with Windows 11 might be the only way to go...Actually, I have no alternative. As far as I am aware, the one computer repair company I had used was out of business and I didn't know who else to call...

In any event I now have a new, Windows 11, hp computer which I'm struggling to use... I was able to find my blog, thankfully, and at least most of my sites I use routinely... Main thing after letting readers know it would be irregular times for right now, I've been trying to find out status of Norton... Some things had carried over, although I have no idea how...but the main program was not showing on my program list. So yesterday was spent working to get that up and running... I was told later, that access to my computer was lost at one point, somebody else came on and expected me to start over... I refused...but then went to a search engine site, opened it and got a download and installed...

Only to find that when the Startup run was made this morning, I started getting a list of corrupted files! Identified as a ZIP file, archived, some of which had the word game...

So, If my understanding is right, there is a archived group of corrupted files on my NEW computer...which is sitting somewhere hidden...BECAUSE THE SCAN WAS COMPLETED AND THE COMPUTER PROCEEDED TO OPEN!!!!!

If I were to hypothesize, I might think that when windows moved to the next generation, they left a lot of crap files that had been identified as corrupted and didn't bother to delete them, but just hid them into a corner and built a wall around them...so new owners are paying for space occupied by corrupted unusable files that are taking up space for absolutely no reason... Just another reason not to trust big corporations...

So this morning when I got stuck trying to enter YouTube or pay, I attempted to find a part of the conversation with Norton technical staff I had yesterday, which referred me to several other sites...The following is what I got when I opened what I assumed would be a copy of the dialogue... Yes, I have kept copies of chat rooms many times...but apparently not with Norton...

In any event, Norton had suggested several things, two of which I actually understood and recognized... I was supposed to go to Google and do this or that...or go to Microsoft and do this or that...

So not it seems that security is to be so controlled that each of the users (you and me) must untangle the messes created by each company who, because of "security" purposes, no longer is willing to coordinate with other companies to ensure that conflicts do not arise...

Duh...

What we have now is a security system on top of a security system, on top of a security system, which is controlled by AI advisors who immediately repeat your entire chat message before they even attempt to try to solve your problem, and after that, they may or may not decided that they can solve, or think they can solve, what I need--which did happen once--before technical staff was pulled in...

On Amazon yesterday, I attempted to get access to my total library, the individual there give me a list of instructions, while I was also typing another question, but she left the chat I was told by the program... I left the window open for about an hour and she never came back...

So, now, we have a series of AI robots who are not trained, but we also have untrained customer service or technical staff who often show they don't care about their customers...

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_customer_is_always_right

In 1909, our country was built on the philosophy of placing the customer first--that they are always right...in effect saying that if the customer wasn't satisfied, then the company would make appropriate changes to adjust to that individual's needs...

In 2026, the only people who actually follow this is the "individual" who because of training and basic moral standards, works hard to ensure the individual who is asking for service from their corporation/agency is satisfied... Norton was at least trying...

Now in 2026, everybody either sends a review process form which is never seen again or, worse, could care less about meeting the needs of those who need assistance...

Indeed in my experience, the worst group of corporate agencies is those who use computers as a basis for extortion!

I'm going to give just one example, but could continue through many businesses with whom I've had to interact during the last decade...

In the 1960s, AOL was the first, new social site that even had movies made about them... Remember "You Got Mail!"

I joined at that time and have been using AOL since then. Frankly, I have found their email system to be the best and most useful for handling a small business such as book reviewing (both when I was getting paid and after) I've been reviewing books for about 25 years now and aol has most of that information...

Or did, I haven't checked to see what I lost, if anything, as of now...

The big problem is that, I remembered after Yahoo sent me a popup the day my computer died...

That Yahoo purchased AOL

And since that time, my email has increased approximately 300%

On day 1, they put up a notice that if you wanted to eliminate ads, pay us...

I've kept track of some of these each time I get these fake mail notices...

You see, you can hover the "from" address and see who is sending the email. Most are so clearly fake! The length of that location could run up to 100 letters

I considered this extortion immediately and still do...

I am perhaps the only person who still uses aol from the 60s...

Perhaps they wish to penalize the fact that I've never paid for mail...

But then, I've never paid for GMail, or Windows email or just about any social site that exists these days...

Yet, I'm guessing that some of the popups came from my choosing Norton

You see, I've been getting emails from aol from the time I lost Windows 10 support trying to get me to purchase their software--a software I've never heard of...

And seriously, would YOU buy security software from a company that forces fake mail coming to you daily that has to be routinely deleted, which then returns the next day and the next... No company does that type of mailing! It's fake or scam emails of one sort or another...

Some even show no "from" but have my name Glenda in that column...

They are the ones telling me that My account is running out and will be closed to a company I have no interaction with or some variation of a need for emergency action... How cruel can a company be to allow that type of "mail" to be used for purposes of getting paid for NOT sending it?

In any event... When I ordered Norton, downloaded it, I immediately got the Yahoo request to sign something...I didn't...and immediately popups arrived!

I could be blaming somebody wronging...if so, I will apologize if proven my assumption is wrong...

But in the meantime, this is just one example of how big corporations are looking to our government gathering millions/billions of our dollars and spending them on private plates, drunken Secretaries, a use of violence like never before done against our own citizens, our neighboring countries and even faking wars against other authoritarian countries...

While relatives or friends of a man in charge with complete immunity

is robbing the government blind...

And large corporations are following his lead... Nothing is provided as in the past, or a former law--they are being deleted or changed or people are being fired while planes are having more accidents than ever before with no willingness to recognize that the lost staff HAS to be the reason for many of those events...

When Norton, for their own security, forces me, in order to use their product, to be so locked that I have no easy way to say that I'm willing to use YouTube and risk that "their" security is sufficient for me, then we have, as customers or users, to actually use these SOCIAL SITES they claim is for OUR benefit...

IT IS JUST NOT TRUE...

AND WE KNOW IT...

AND IT IS GETTING WORSE...

AS LONG AS THE RICH WANT TO GET RICHER

AND ALSO WANT TO DENY SOMETHING THAT THEY ONCE GAVE TO CITIZENS...OR EVEN ACROSS THE WORLD ACCESS... 

WHILE FORCING THOSE HACKED BECAUSE OF HAVE TO DEAL WITH CONSEQUENCES BEYOND OUR CONTROL...because there is no legal activity now dealing with cyber crime...

WHAT A MESS

WHAT A TIME TO BE LIVING IN A WORLD FULL OF RICH LIARS

WHO CAN'T EVEN TELL A LIE AND HAVE US BELIEVE IT

BECAUSE REALITY OF WHAT THEY ARE DOING IS SO VISIBLE...

EXTORTION

the practice of obtaining something, especially money, through force or threats.

ONE FINAL THOUGHT

WHEN THE COST OF SECURITY FOR USERS IS MORE that needed  BECAUSE NOBODY DOES THE JOB OF LEGAL PREVENTION OF HACKING AND MORE, OUR GOVERNMENT IS FAILING US AT EVERY LEVEL

DURING ALL THIS CRAP I LEARNED THAT MY NAME IS ONE THE "DARK WEB"

PROBABLY THAT SOCIAL SECURITY INFO THAT WAS GIVEN BY A DOGE EMPLOYEE TO AN OUTSIDE AGEN CY...

OR BECAUSE I'M OPPOSE TO WHAT IS HAPPENING TO OUR DEMOCRACY AND ITS LOSS

JUST LIKE ALL THE CRIMINAL ACTIONS NOW BEING ALLOWED BY ONE POLITICAL PARTY, WHILE CALLING THE REST OF US "DEMONS" IS JUST PLAIN WRONG AND EMBARRASSING TO OUR COUNTRY'S HISTORY OF FREEDOM...

IF SOMETHING DOESN'T HAPPEN TO STOP THE CORRUPTION BY GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS, WE MIGHT AS WELL PLAN  ON LOSING EVERY SINGLE PART OF LIFE AS WE KNOW IT...

COMPANIES ACT AS IF THEY ARE DOING US A FAVOR BY PROVIDING GOODS AND SERVICES. TO A SMALL EXTENT THAT IS TRUE, BUT, LET ME ASK YOU, DO YOU EVER GO INTO A GROCERY STORY AND SEE THE ROWS AND ROWS OF JUST CEREALS AND WONDER WHY THERE ARE SO MANY DIFFERENT OPTIONS, WHICH THEN ARE DESTROYED WHEN NOT SOLD?

IT'S BECAUSE, PERHAPS, YOU HAVE BECOME SPOILED TO WHATEVER LEVEL OF RICHNESS YOU HAVE ACHIEVED.

I REMEMBER BUYING ON SALE IN A PAST, PARTS OF A CHICKEN THAT WERE NOT USUALLY SOLD, AND WE ATE THEM AND MADE HOMEMADE NOODLES AND SOUPS WITH THEM...DELICIOUS!

HAVE YOU BECOME SPOILED AND WILLING TO PUT UP WITH THIS CRAP? WHILE CHILDREN ARE STARVING?

WHO IN HELL WANTS TO SEE A GOLD BALLROOM THAT WILL BE BIGGER THAN THE WHITE HOUSE OF THE PRESIDENT WHICH HAS EXISTED FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS?

Of course I could go on, but the majority of you know what I am talking about...

Please look to what you can see happening and decide to work against those who care nothing about the majority of we who live in the United States...

Because I guarantee that this president is not going to change from what he has been all his life...a man whose father taught him how to grab federal funds and then building a facility in which he would not rent to certain non-white people... If you don't believe me, you haven't done your research... Start with the 3 books by his niece and nephew after their inheritance money for their father was denied...

Don't be a fool.

If you are scared and concerned and frustrated like I am

Start thinking for yourself and REACT TO REALITY!

A legal system was required because we didn't follow a request to Love out Neighbors

Now Those people who love only riches is stealing from Citizens and getting away with it...

None of us are safe when all corporations are bowing to a president OR are just greedy because they care only for themselves...

No matter what reason, it's OUR MONEY

And something better happen very soon...

Please plan to vote and fight for freedom

Gabby

Sharon Sala Presents Midnight! Crossroads Book 2 - A New Personal Favorite for 2026 Deserves a Short Author Spotlight...

First love. Only love. Forever love.

“Love always fills the awkward corners of a life.

A princess escaping her ivory tower. Racing toward the awaiting prince in another kingdom.

If you haven't yet read a book written by one of the best storytellers I've read, I recommend you start with today's presentation. Midnight! Although I can't remember the name of the first book by Sala that I read, I can still remember my emotional response. That response which nudges me whenever I get a notice that she has a new book available. Midnight was written for avid readers like me--you know, I'm the one that normally responds to the question of "what is your favorite book" by responding "The one I'm reading right now..." No, that's not always true, but it covers a high percentage of the books I've written about here at Book Readers Heaven where no more than 10 a year are selected as a personal favorite... And, more importantly, only a very few are selected as favorite author... Sharon Sala became a favorite author with her first book I read!

You will find that Midnight, as a romantic suspense--heavy on the renewal of the relationship between Asher and Nora--just might fulfill every single hope

Sharon wins the Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award
RITA from RWA (Photo Credit: Jan Goldstoff)

you might have for every book you read. And, in doing so, Sala also ensures that every single wish you'd want to close out each book is, indeed, fully responded to... You will have NO questions in your mind about what happened to this person or that... I, quite simply, loved this book! It provided a contentment that only can be provided by a writer that writes books that they personally want to read... And does that job perfectly!

Indeed, I wasn't surprised when I discovered that Sala had been presented a lifetime Nora Roberts' Award. Roberts is also one of my favorite writers, especially with her J.D.Robb series! Plan, therefore, to find the same quality of writing as Nora when you select a book by Sharon Sala!

Now, let me share a little about this story!

Asher Kingston didn’t thrive in disorder. He needed to know what was happening, what his part in it was, and what needed to happen next, and he hadn’t had one solid day of order since the phone call from his dad, telling him about Nora. At that moment, every carefully planned aspect of his life blew up in his face. It was Brenda’s fault. She’d disrupted all of their lives when she ended hers. But it was also the wakeup call that he’d needed, and now he couldn’t imagine any aspect of his life without Nora in it. Finding out about her stalker had been a shock. Learning how she’d saved herself, then found a retreat in her ivory tower that gave her the safety and space to continue her work without giving up what she loved, turned on every protective instinct he had. He knew she wasn’t helpless. Far from it, but he wanted to be there for her when she needed it. To make that happen, they first had to put the Brandt brothers in prison, and that was uppermost in his mind as he came out of Belker’s with a bouquet of flowers. Three minutes later, he was pulling up into Nora’s driveway. He loved her. He wanted her. Every part of him ached to take her to bed. He was saying it with flowers, but if she was slow to get the message, he was willing to strip naked and let her see it for herself. He traded his Stetson for the flowers and left it in the front seat. Then he was out the door and running up the steps with the wind at his back. He knocked, waiting for the sound of her footsteps, then all of sudden, the door swung inward and there she stood. A vision in pink wearing fuzzy socks and slippers. The smile on her face was all it took to pull him over the threshold. He shut the door and laid the flowers in her arms. “Asher! I love them. I never get flowers. They’re beautiful.” “Like you,” he said. “Go put them in water so I can kiss you.” She laughed. “Come help. I’m still making messes with this one,” she said, waving the hand with the stitches. He shed his coat on the sofa and followed, got a vase from the etagere, filled it half full of water for her, then watched her put them in the water and arrange them. “The fall colors in this are just perfect. I love them, and they’ll make a nice focal point on the dining table. I’m signing a contract with a realtor tomorrow and she’s using the existing furniture for staging.” As soon as she finished the arrangement, he carried it to the dining table for her, and as he turned, he caught a wistful expression on her face. “Are you sad, darlin’… About selling the house, I mean?” She shrugged. “A little, but realistic about it, too. It’s not the same with them gone, you know? I keep thinking about the us we resurrected. That’s where my hopes are. They’re already with you.” The look in her eyes. The words she’d just said. Like turning a cog and watching it fall into place. With her there was no discord, only peace. He brushed a kiss across her lips, then cupped her face, feeling the softness of her skin against his palms. “You are my touchstone. You always were. You always will be. I will always love and protect you.” “My darling, Ash. Through no fault of your own, you are the one who was left in charge, but you’re also the one who needs to be cared for, and tended to, and loved harder…loved more. Let me be that person for you, too. I know you still have to clear the deck for your dad, but spare me enough time for this. Come to bed with me. It’s going to take the rest of our lives to catch up with what we lost. Now is as good a time as any to start refilling the well. Make love now. Make babies with me later.” Then she was in his arms, moving through the shadowed halls, and once again, into her bedroom. Inhibitions came off with their clothes. They were as frantic for the joining as they had been when they were young and crazy wild for each other, but old enough now to savor the sweet heat of building a slow fire. One that engulfed, instead of flashed. Asher was stretched out beside her, tracing the shape of her cheek, to the shallow beneath her throat, to the weight of her breasts in his hand. Watching her eyelids flutter as he rolled her nipple between his fingers. Hearing the catch in her breath when he slid his hands between her legs, then leaving a trail of kisses from her chin to her belly button. Nora’s heart was racing as he moved over her, then in her. It was the beginning, and she already wanted more. She knew what turned him on. It was her. Sex between them had always been magic. A quickening of souls as well as bodies, and this time as he began, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him deeper. It was ecstasy, and a kind of agony as he began to move. One minute, then another and another, and she could feel it building—wanting it to go on forever, then suddenly desperate for a release. It came without warning. Shattering focus and concentration as the blood rush hit. They lay in each other’s arms until there was nothing left of the ride but the intermittent ripple of aftershocks. Asher buried his face in the thick fall of her hair, groaning softly at the thought of having to move. “God, Nora, you destroy me.” Nora looked up into his face, at the high cheekbones and stubborn chin. A mouth for laughter, and kissing. And the clear-blue color of his eyes. “I will lose sleep thinking about this, and doing without you…without this wild madness you turn on inside me, but you are so very worth the wait. I love you. And I also know you haven’t finished what you came to do.” He rolled over, taking her with him, and pulled her close as she pillowed her head upon his chest. “Yes, we do, and there’s still work to do. Reddick agreed to the press conference. Once it airs, we go on lockdown.

~~~~

I chose to share a later excerpt on purpose, although I don't think it gives enough away that I would not be saying anyway. It seems to me that those writers who declare their books as "clean" have decided to leave out the full range of emotions that the majority of people have. I often wonder why... In any event, there is much emotional angst and happiness in this book, and the setup for the story takes only a few short pages of the early chapters...

Brenda, the wife of an owner of a bar and the mother of three boys, was involved in both a sexual and criminal way with a theft that took place  many years ago. Brenda who realized they would be caught had taken the suicide way out, emptying a bottle of pills which allowed her death to occur before the police even had a chance to interview her. What she also succeeded to do, perhaps unwittingly--was ruin her family's lives in many ways.

Nora and Asher, the oldest of the sons, were already in love, but Asher had to immediately assume the role of caretaker for the younger boys, as well as maintaining the home which was attached to the bar. 

Although the thieves had been killed or caught, little was done to close the case since none would talk. Years passed and the three young boys were now grown. Asher the oldest and Gunner, the youngest, and the most emotionally impacted by his mother's betrayal, had both gone into law. The other, Dylan, now was a contractor and the only one married.  Life was moving along and the owner of the bar continued on to begin to establish and confirm that he, also, was not involved in the robbery of around $1M!

And it probably would have continued on except that death interfered... The leader of the gang who had done the robbery was dying. Nora's parents were now both gone and she had come back to town to sell the home they had lived in for most of their lives. Nora had moved, but worked out of her home, anyway, so she was able to go back, set up to keep her work going, and begin to prepare the house for sale, which would include repairs...

Readers will know the entire set of events from page 1, including the mother's lament, Brenda's cry of remorse

When Jacob slipped into bed beside her, she heard his weary sigh as he pulled up the covers and turned out the bedside lamp. He was such a good man. Oh God, oh God… What have I done to this family?

Until the other death was near, the leader of the gang called in his two sons, told them where the money was, and they soon were planning just how to proceed. The first act was for them to assume fake names, walk into the bar run by Jacob, spend some time there and finally explained they'd been looking for a bar to buy and wanted to know if Jacob was interested in selling. When he said no, they left... They brought a gun the next time they broke in. And even though they didn't plan on murder, Jacob was shot, badly, and close to death...

The entire town was in an uproar, not understanding why Jacob was attacked. Nothing was taken so it wasn't a robbery... Soon, the three boys arrived... And they weren't leaving until this entire mess, including the connection to the death of the gang leader, was cleared up and solved. Fast and furious action begins!

Highly recommended!

GABixlerReviews

Penance - And Complementary Music by Shnabubula - By Sharon Sala

 

Six weeks ago, a simple trip to her neighborhood pharmacy had turned into a nightmare. She’d walked into the middle of a robbery. She never even saw the man who shot her in the head and left her for dead. She’d survived, but some of her senses had not. She was dealing with short-term memory loss and a tendency to stagger. Even though she’d been told the problems were most likely temporary, she waged a daily battle with depression. Her parents had been killed in a car wreck when she was twenty-one. They’d owned the apartment building in which she had grown up, so finances were never going to be a problem. But she was alone. There were no aunts. No cousins. No grandparents. Except for a few friends—and most recently her boyfriend, Dominic Tucci, who lived in the apartment right above hers—she was alone. Her doctor kept reminding her that she should be grateful to be alive, and on one level, she knew he was right. But he wasn’t living in her shoes. If she’d been anywhere else but at that pharmacy when the robbery happened, then she wouldn’t have died twice on the way to the hospital. She wouldn’t be mistaking salt for sugar. She wouldn’t be missing a head of hair and staggering like a drunk when she stood up. 

Instead of being grateful that she’d survived, she couldn’t quit thinking of what she’d lost. But that wasn’t the end of her troubles. On top of everything else, something strange was happening inside her head. She’d begun to hear odd things. Sounds, not voices—at least, she didn’t think it was voices. It sounded more like the distant sound of rapids—a rush of wind and water inside her head that, when it came, blocked out everything around her. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it was frightening, and it was driving her crazy. The blank moments, as she called them, even had a rhythm. First came that sound, then a cold sweat, then panic with no reason. Part of her feared it was the beginning of an emotional breakdown. And part of her feared it wasn’t—that it was going to turn out to be a permanent souvenir of her resurrection. She was twenty-six years old and living the life of a senior citizen with dementia, and tonight was living proof. 

Here she was, alone in her apartment on a Saturday night, eating ice cream and watching the news like some old maid. All she needed was a cat. Frustrated with herself and the situation as it stood, she stabbed her spoon into the mound of mocha fudge and then scooped up another bite, letting it melt on her tongue while she upped the sound on the TV and watched Pat Sajak bantering with Vanna White. A few moments later, an announcer broke into “Wheel of Fortune” with a special bulletin. 

“This just in. Police are on the scene of a kidnapping that occurred only hours ago at The Dakota. Molly Dane, the five-year-old daughter of one of Hollywood’s blockbuster stars, Lyla Dane, was taken by force from the family apartment. At this time, they have yet to receive a ransom demand. The housekeeper was seriously injured during the abduction and is, at the present time, in surgery. Police are hoping to be able to talk to her once she regains consciousness. In the meantime, we are going now to a press conference with Lyla Dane.” 

Horrified, Nicole stilled as the cameras went live to where the actress was speaking before a bank of microphones. “I thought I had problems,” she muttered, instantly ashamed of herself and her attitude. When the woman began to speak, Nicole leaned forward, absently resting the bowl of ice cream in her lap. The shock and terror in Lyla Dane’s voice were physically painful to watch, but even though Nicole kept upping the volume, the sound continued to fade. Just when she was beginning to think something was wrong with her set, the broadcast suddenly switched from the Dane press conference to what appeared to be footage of the kidnapping. 

The clip began inside the apartment. When the front door suddenly flew back against the wall and four men rushed in, Nicole gasped. Horrified, she quickly realized that this must have been caught on the Danes’ security camera inside. As Nicole continued to watch, a small Asian woman, who she guessed was the housekeeper, rushed forward in an effort to keep them out. When one of the men hit her in the face with his gun, Nicole moaned. The violence was too reminiscent of what she’d lived through to ignore. Sick to her stomach, she fisted her hands against her belly, wishing it was over, but unable to tear her gaze away. When the maid dropped to the carpet, the same man followed with a vicious kick to her midsection that lifted her off the floor. “Oh, my God,” Nicole said. When blood began to pool beneath the maid’s head, she started to cry. As the clip played on, the four men split up in different directions. The camera caught one running down a long marble hallway, then disappearing into a room. Moments later, he reappeared, carrying a little girl, who Nicole assumed was Molly Dane. The child was wearing a pair of red pants and a white turtleneck sweater, and her hair was partially blocking her abductor’s face as he carried her down the hall. She was kicking and screaming in his arms, and when he slapped her, it elicited an agonized screech that brought the other three running. Nicole watched in horror as one of them ran up and put his hand over Molly’s face. Seconds later, she went limp. One moment they were in the foyer, then they were gone. Nicole jumped to her feet, then staggered drunkenly. The bowl of ice cream that had been in her lap fell at her feet, splattering glass and melting ice cream everywhere. 

The picture on the screen abruptly switched from the kidnapping to what Nicole assumed was a rerun of Lyla Dane’s plea for her daughter’s safe return, but she was too numb to really pay attention. Before she could think what to do next, the doorbell rang. Startled by the unexpected sound, she shakily swiped at her tears and took a step forward. She didn’t feel the glass shards piercing her feet until she took the second step. At that point, sharp pains shot through her foot. She gasped, then looked down in confusion. Her ice-cream-spattered legs looked as if she’d been running through mud, and she was standing in broken glass and melting mocha fudge, while a thin ribbon of blood seeped out from beneath her toes. “Oh, no,” she mumbled, then stifled a second moan of pain. The doorbell rang again. She shivered, then clutched her head in confusion. “Just a minute!” she yelled, trying to sidestep the rest of the debris as she limped to the door. When she looked through the peephole, she didn’t know whether to be relieved or regretful. It was Dominic, and, as usual, she was a mess...

~~~

Nicole Masters was feeling sorry for herself, but many would say she had a right to do so... She had been caught, by accident, being some place she wished she had not been and getting shot in the head for being there! How cruel fate was to have arrived at her pharmacy just when it was being robbed! Must we be forever caught in the midst of criminals, with guns, that have no concern for anybody but their own greed?!

She had resorted to treating her anger with her favorite--ice cream! Having each spoonful melt on her tongue, deliciously relaxing her mind to its wonderful diversion... At least until, a news item broke into her concentration. She stopped to listen, even stopping eating, as a clip inside the apartment of where a child was being kidnapped was shown...

Except there had been no clip of the actual event on the news... And, soon, Nicole was in the midst of a major crime--again! But, this time, she was watching as the kidnapping of a child actually took place! How?

And...Why?...

Molly Dane, daughter of a major screen star had been kidnapped! As Nicole watched, she began to feel a little ashamed of herself. After all, she was alive, and successfully recuperating a major surgery, while a young child had been taken by four men, one of them cruelly treating her as he pulled her out of her room, moving quickly to join the others and leave, after also hurting the housekeeper, who was now in the hospital... The maid had been slapped in the face hard enough to fall and then be kicked by her assailant until blood flowed around her...

Dominic Tucci lived right above her in an apartment where he had come to love Nicole greatly. Now, though, he was worried because she seemed to think that she was no longer worthy to be involved with him. Fortunately, he didn't agree and had come to visit her, only to disrupt her watching the news and her dropping her ice cream and then stepping on the glass as she tried to get to the door. He quickly picked her up and then found the first aid box to clean and wrap the latest bodily problem she was facing...

And while he was cleaning up the broken glass, they began talking about the kidnapping, until she began to talk about the four men who had taken her. Dominick stopped her--there had been no tape available and the video had not been part of the news program... Nicole knew what she had seen was real, however!

And she was willing to share everything she saw to help the police!

Could her head injury have resulted in some type of psychic ability developing? So she tried to see something more, but discovered it apparently didn't work that way... Until around noon, she could feel the same sounds that had been heard right before her first, apparent, vision. What would she see now?

The music playing on the stereo in the other room began to fade, and she felt the skin of her face tightening. It was happening again. She took a deep breath and leaned against the cabinet, waiting for the rush of wind. It came, and with it came another vision. One moment she was pouring soup into a pan, and the next she was watching a short, stocky man walking toward her. Thinking she was about to be attacked, it took her a few moments to realize that the man wasn’t coming toward her. In fact, he wasn’t even in her apartment. He was in the same room she’d seen before, and he was approaching Molly Dane. Somehow she was seeing through Molly’s eyes—seeing everything Molly was seeing. Then the man spoke. “Here, kid…you gotta eat. I brought you a Happy Meal. It’s got a toy in it and everything.” Nicole felt Molly’s despair as the man shoved the food in her hands. “Eat it!” he demanded. In what Nicole could only call an out-of-body experience, she and Molly took the food to a table. She saw the little girl’s hands trembling as she opened the small box and took out the plastic-wrapped toy. Without looking up, she set it aside. Someone in the other room called out, “Benny, come here!” Nicole saw Molly look up. The man, who Nicole now realized was one of the two men she’d seen at the kidnapping, glanced at Molly, then walked into the other room. As soon as he was gone, Molly ran to a window. It was boarded up, but she thrust her little fingers into a crack and pulled, trying to loosen the boards. Nicole winced as she saw the child lose her grip. When she pulled back, her fingers came away with splinters. Molly grimaced with pain but had the foresight not to cry out. Instead, she clenched her fists, then glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was still alone before peeking through the crack. Nicole felt Molly’s helplessness and despair. Nicole’s heart skipped a beat as Molly’s gaze went from the graffiti-sprayed wall of the building across the way to the street signs at the corner. “Oh, God…oh, God…look at them, baby. Look at the signs,” Nicole whispered. And Molly did. Her gaze went straight to the corner as if she’d heard Nicole’s long-distance plea. East 149th Street and Morris Avenue. Nicole read the names twice, locking them firmly in her mind as Molly suddenly spun and headed for the table. She was tearing into the paper around her hamburger when Benny came back into the room. Benny was staring at Molly for what seemed like a very long time. Then suddenly he shook his head and looked away. At that point Nicole panicked. The thought ran through her mind that they weren’t going to let Molly Dane go. Once the money was transferred, they were going to kill her. She had to tell Dominic and the detectives. And just like that, the vision was gone. She glanced at the clock. It was less than an hour before the transfer had to be made. If they didn’t find Molly before noon, it would be too late.

~~~~

Though less than 100 pages, this taut paranormal romantic suspense will keep you interested through each page that brings you closer and closer to the edge as you work along with the wonderful characters to bring a young girl back home! I admit that I was disappointed that it wasn't longer, wanting to learn more about how one criminal act is translated into the closeout of a different criminal act, involving a child... I enjoyed, especially, Dominick who work selflessly to help Nicole not only deal with her own misfortune but to let her completely know that she was his chosen, and nothing was going to break that bond... Highly recommended!

GABixlerReviews

The Chosen by Sharon Sala - This Book Became the Kickoff to Sala Being A Favorite Author! Find Out Why!

What if he didn’t live long enough to offset the sins of his previous lifestyle? He’d been preaching and trying to do good to his fellow man, but now he felt it wasn’t going to be enough. The panic that ensued left him weak and shaking. He didn’t want to go to hell. “God help me. What do I do?” The answer came as a thought, soundless, quiet, but affirming. Live as I lived. 

Prologue 

“I’m dying. They won’t say it, but I hear it in their voices. They look at my chart and then look away. Please, oh please, don’t let me die!” Jay Carpenter’s panic was as silent as his voice. The last thing he remembered was slapping one of his girls for holding back money on him. He’d been running more than a dozen girls for over six years, and no matter how careful he was in picking them, there was always one who had to mess things up. He remembered the impact of his palm against her face, and then he’d felt a sharp pain behind his right ear. After that, everything started spinning around him. He vaguely remembered the girls screaming and someone shouting, “Call 911!” And then everything had gone black. 

All he knew now was that he was in a hospital, where he’d had surgery to remove a brain tumor, and that he had a fever that wouldn’t abate and an overwhelming sense of despair. 

*** 

Alice Presley was in her eighteenth year of nursing, and during that time, thousands of patients had come under her care. She considered herself an old hand at the job and often claimed that she’d seen it all. But that was before the patient in bed 315B was admitted. She kept a wary eye on him as she bathed him, even though he was unconscious again. She’d looked at his chart often enough to know the history. His name was Jay Carpenter—a fortysomething pimp who had passed out in his apartment and suffered a seizure. He had been admitted with hallucinations. The initial diagnosis of drug overdose had been dropped after the discovery of a tumor involving his pituitary gland and part of his brain. Surgery had been performed, but unsuccessfully. Only part of the tumor had been removed. He had a continuing fever, and kept lapsing in and out of a coma. The only difference between this man and the countless others she’d ministered to was the fact that when he was conscious, he scared her. His eyes were so dark they appeared to be black, and there was an odd smell about him that no amount of bathing seemed to change. It was a smell that she associated with the morgue, and if she didn’t know better, she would think he was already dead. Just as the thought moved through her mind, he coded. Without a second of hesitation, she hit an alarm bell and then began performing CPR. Nurses rushed in with a crash cart, followed by a pair of doctors who’d been on the floor making rounds. Each knew the other’s purpose and skillfully went through the motions of recovery, even though their initial efforts seemed futile.

 *** 

“No, no, no! Not yet! Not like this!” Jay Carpenter took his last breath at the same time that his soul left his body. It wasn’t anything like what he’d expected. There was no struggle to breathe, only a cessation of pain. For a brief moment, he was above his body and looking down, and then a force unlike anything he’d ever known began pulling at him—or whatever it was that he’d become. The gravity of his earthbound body was missing, and the only thing he could liken it to was the lack of control he’d once felt on the downhill slide of a giant roller coaster. Light surrounded him, bathing him in a warmth and love unlike anything he’d ever known. It was everything he’d ever wanted as a child and lacked as an adult—a love and acceptance he’d never believed existed. It was perfect, so perfect, but then something began to go wrong. The light that had warmed him began to retract. The implication didn’t sink in until the joy in his heart was replaced by an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. The air began to vibrate with a multitude of voices wailing in chaotic abandon. The sound pierced his being, paining him in a way that stabbing knives would have pained his earthly flesh. What was left of that warmth and love had dissipated, replaced with every earthly fear he’d ever had—and in a quantity beyond imagination. Panic was followed by a horrifying realization. This wasn’t heaven. It was hell. He began to scream, but the sound was lost in the wail of the countless souls already inhabiting the space. It was too late for regret. It was too late to ask God for forgiveness. It was too late—too horribly late—for everything. Burning lakes of fire rose up before him. The stench of sulfur was without and within as evil surrounded him. Just at the point of complete absorption, something happened. Only seconds from extinction, the same feeling of motion he’d had earlier was back, only this time he was being pulled up instead of down. “Praise God!” he cried. “I’m going to heaven after all.” Then a loud, hideous roar came at him from below, and although no words were ever spoken, still he heard the devil’s vow. “You’ll never go to heaven. You’re already mine!” 

*** 

“I’ve got a pulse!” Jay thought he screamed, even as he was being sucked back into his body. He wanted to shout, to laugh and cry, to thank the doctors and nurses for bringing him back to life, but words were still beyond him. It was days before he was cognizant enough to speak coherently. By that time, he had come to a definite sense of purpose and set his mind upon a twisted and daunting task. What he’d seen of hell had worked deep into his being. He knew it was inevitable that he would die again. It came to all men in good time, but to assure himself that his second journey would not be a repeat of the first, he had come up with what he considered a foolproof road to heaven. After a disconcerting discussion with his surgeon, in which he’d learned they’d been unable to remove all of the tumor and he was living on borrowed time, his dedication to his plan became even firmer. He couldn’t bear to think about having to spend eternity away from that warm, comforting light of love. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that something drastic must be done. Within hours of being released from the hospital, he began his first step toward what he believed would be perfect redemption

~~~~

As you know, my mind has been centered not only on my reading, but also on the tragic developments that happen daily now in the U.S. When I began reading the Prologue, of course, my mind automatically went to all the actions surrounding Jeffrey Epstein and his girls who he sold out... to rich men... Jay might not have had the brains to be a high-class pimp, but, bottom line, it was the same old, same old... Criminals have discovered that they can make more money selling girls or women--even more than selling drugs! 

But there is no way around it. Once a man who has chosen to degrade girls and women in the most horrible way, what it takes to be such a man can only be called...evil...

Sala has taken a theme against women since the beginning of time... It was during Jesus' life that men were ready to stone a woman for being a prostitute. Yes, they were going to murder the woman... Jesus not only defended her, but shamed the men who had contemplated her death...

But the fantastic twist that Sala presents right in the Prologue, is that Jay Carpenter learned that he was destined for Hell... And he was scared...to...death...

~

Used for illustrative purposes - News Reporter investigation of homeless hitchhiker...

January DeLena was one of Washington, D.C.’s most well-known journalists. On 9-11, she’d been on-site and broadcasting only minutes after the plane had flown into the Pentagon. Then the world had watched as she’d abandoned her microphone and begun helping survivors who’d come running out of the building. By the time she’d remembered what she’d been sent there to do, she was covered in soot and blood, and had cursed and cried on air. Normally, that would have gotten her fired, but not that day. That day she’d only voiced what the nation had been feeling. By the end of the week, everyone knew the name of the pretty television journalist who’d called Osama Bin Laden a bad name. Over time, it became apparent that January DeLena wasn’t just a pretty face. When it came to getting a story, she was tenacious, which was why on this night she was on the streets of the red-light district at one-thirty in the morning, mingling with the homeless, instead of sleeping in her own bed. For months, she’d been hearing a rumor about a man who called himself the Sinner and who claimed to have had a near-death experience. Now she’d heard he was moving among the homeless and the lawless, preaching his own version of eternity. In most cases, this would have been just a story about another religious zealot. However, this story had a unique twist, and unique was the key to January’s success. It had become fashionable to speak of near-death experiences. Many had written books on the subject, usually claiming that they hadn’t wanted to come back, and that they’d felt a great sense of peace in death. But this man had a different story to tell, and one that had tweaked her curiosity. According to the gossip on the street, this man had literally been to hell and back, and lived to tell the tale. Now January huddled beneath the awning of a secondhand store as wind blew rain against the backs of her legs. She didn’t mind so much getting wet, but the stench emanating from the woman with her was overpowering, and getting wet only added to the odor. She turned her back to the wind and tried not to breathe too deeply as she spoke to the woman beside her. “So, Marjorie, you say you’ve seen the Sinner yourself?” Marjorie Culver’s fingers curled a little tighter around the push bar on her shopping cart. It had been a long time since anyone had taken notice of her, and the attention made her feel a little disoriented and vulnerable. Still, she felt no threat from this woman and finally nodded. “Yep… I saw him two, maybe three days ago. He was beneath an overpass near the Potomac, passing out coupons for a free fish sandwich from Captain Hook’s. He had a whole basket of ’em. Someone said they were probably fakes, but I took one anyway, and they took it at the drive-through when I gave ’em my order.” Then she laughed, as if struck by the humor of going through a drive-through on foot. “Was he preaching?” January asked. Marjorie shrugged. “I guess you could call it that.” “What do you mean?” January pressed. “Well, he was holding a Bible and all, but what he was saying sounded pretty radical. I don’t think he was quoting any scriptures.” She shrugged again. “It didn’t really matter, though. No one was paying him any mind. They just wanted the coupon for the free sandwich.” January nodded. She certainly understood. There had been days in her youth when she might have done just about anything for something to eat. Thank God those times were far behind her. “Do you know where he lives?” January asked. Marjorie frowned. “Nowhere and everywhere, I guess. I wasn’t sure, but I got the impression that he was one of us.” “You mean homeless?” Marjorie glared. “For some, it’s a choice, you know.” January backed off on her intensity. “I’m not demeaning your existence, Marjorie. I was only asking as a means of locating him so I can talk to him myself.” Marjorie frowned and shoved her cart a little closer to the door she was leaning against. The stuff in her cart was all she owned, although she’d long since forgotten what all was in there. “Yeah, well… I can’t help you any on that. I’m not into addresses myself.” January sighed. She hadn’t meant to, but she’d obviously insulted the woman. “All right then,” she said, and gave Marjorie’s arm a quick squeeze. “Thank you so much for talking to me, Marjorie.” Then she slipped a hundred dollars worth of twenties into Marjorie’s hand. “Get yourself a room tonight and treat yourself to something good to eat.” Marjorie was taken aback by the money and for a moment thought about being insulted all over again, but then a quick gust of wind blew rain down her neck. She took the bills and stuffed them into one of her countless pockets. “Yeah… I’ll do that,” she said, then added, “See you on the TV.” “Absolutely,” January said, wondering when Marjorie ever got to watch TV, and made a dash toward her car, which was parked less than half a block away. Once inside, she locked the doors and breathed a quick sigh of relief that she had a home to go to and a car to get her there. When she turned the key, the sound of the engine starting echoed the jump of her heartbeat. As she turned on the windshield wipers, a tall thin man wearing dirty white pants and a shirt that hung loose to his knees stepped out of the alley in front of her. His clothes were sopping wet. His long hair was equally soaked, and plastered to his face and neck, as was the beard hiding most of his face. There was a brief moment of connection as their gazes met. When he began to smile, she hit the headlights, flipping them on bright. It was his signal to move, which he did, but without shifting his gaze. The expression in the man’s eyes made January shudder. The degradation of the place and its people hit her like a slap in the face, and for the first time in her life made her doubt the wisdom of following this story. Then she gathered her wits and reminded herself of how far she’d come from the poor little Latino girl from Juarez, Mexico, to the woman she was today. She’d worked long and hard to gain credibility, and apologized for nothing. With renewed vigor, she slammed the car into gear and stomped on the accelerator. Tires squealed as rubber burned. All she needed was a hot bath and a good night’s sleep, and she would be fine. Less than a mile from her apartment, a police cruiser came racing past her, running with lights and siren. Up ahead, she could see what appeared to be at least a half-dozen more police cars and almost as many emergency vehicles. Immediately, her heartbeat accelerated as her instinct for the story rose. But she reminded herself she was not on duty, and as she drove past, saw the news crew from her station. Kevin Wojak was standing near an ambulance with a mike in his hand, speaking directly into a camera as rain peppered his face. She smirked. All he had to do was take a few steps to the left and he would have been standing under a canopy, but that would have diluted the dramatic effect he was obviously going for. Wojak considered January competition. January considered Wojak a pain in the ass. Despite her reluctance to watch Wojak working the camera, she was forced to stop as an ambulance pulled away from the scene. When it raced past her, she said a quick prayer for the occupants, then waited for traffic to clear. As she waited, a tall, dark-haired man suddenly stepped out from between two parked police cars and walked in front of her vehicle, momentarily spotlighting himself in her headlights, much as the bearded man on skid row had done earlier. But her reaction to this man was far different. She knew him intimately, had made love to him in her bed, on the living room floor, in her shower, and once in her walk-in closet—but only in her dreams. Benjamin North, one of D.C.’s finest homicide detectives, didn’t know it, but he haunted her sleep, taunting her with his heavy-lidded stare and slow, sexy smile. In reality, they’d done little more than trade jibes at various crime scenes—his springing from disgust at the arrival of the media and hers from what she considered unfair disrespect. Except for one night over a year ago. With the windshield wipers swishing back and forth in January’s line of vision, she thought back to the disaster that had brought them together. 

*** 

It had been snowing for hours, which was frustrating for the crime scene investigators, because the snow had covered up whatever clues might have been left behind that might help them find out who had killed Mandy Green. She hadn’t taken up much space in the world, and what space she had had been what nobody else wanted. Now she was dead—raped and strangled, although the coroner couldn’t say which had come first. What was newsworthy about the murder of this particular hooker was that, according to the ID Mandy Green had in the purse beneath her arm, she was only twelve years old. Benjamin North had been assigned to the case. What he hadn’t known until his arrival at the scene was that the victim was a child. Granted, the child was wearing a faux fur coat and knee-high white boots, but that was all. When he lifted the blanket to look at the body, he stilled, too shocked to let go, too numb to look away. Her baby lips were smeared with a dark red lipstick; her wide, sightless eyes were a clear, pure green. Her hair was red and curly and wet from the snow in which she was lying. But it was her pale, childlike body that knocked him for a loop. She had buds where her breasts were meant to be, and a small thatch of pubic hair that had just begun to grow. One leg was lying at an awkward angle, and her right arm had been flung over her head, as if the attacker had shoved it out of the way to do his deed. “Jesus,” Benjamin whispered, and then dropped the blanket and turned away. His hands were shaking and his stomach was rolling. He could handle anything but kids. They got to him every time. He lifted his head and took a deep breath, hoping the blast of cold air would clear the horror from his mind. As he did, he noticed that a news crew was already here. “Damn vultures,” he muttered, as his control shattered. He strode past crime scene investigators, street cops and a waiting ambulance, ready to do battle. He rounded the bumper with a fight on his mind and found no one to fight. The camera crew was nowhere to be seen. He turned abruptly, expecting to see them across the parking lot, getting film of the victim. The only people he could see were the crew from CSI and a couple of patrol cops. It wasn’t until he started to walk away that he heard someone on the other side of the hedge, crying. He walked around it, then froze. He knew who she was. Everyone knew January DeLena. But he’d never seen her like this. “Lady, you’re not supposed to be here,” he said gruffly. January flinched. She hadn’t heard him walk up, and she wasn’t in a mood to talk. She raised her head and then swiped at the tears on her face before turning around. Oh perfect. It’s North. I don’t need any more grief right now. She meant to argue, to state her rights to get the facts of a story—her usual freedom of speech and press argument. But when she opened her mouth, her sorrow betrayed her. “Did you see her?” she cried. “She’s only a child.” A huge, hiccuping sob came out between an inhale and an exhale as she threw her arms up in the air and then hit the trunk of a tree with the flat of her hand. “Where is God when things like this happen?” She spun angrily, her face streaked with fresh tears. “You’re the detective. You tell me!” she cried. “Where is God now?” Ben was stunned by her rage. It was like looking at a mirror image of what he was feeling. When she turned on him, he acted without thinking. He grabbed both her arms at the wrists and pushed her against the tree she’d just hit. “Stop it,” he said. “You don’t want to hit me. You could get arrested for assaulting an officer.” She looked up at him, but saw nothing but a blur through her tears. “Why don’t they get her out of the snow? It’s fucking freezing, and they’ve let her lie in the snow like a piece of trash.” Ben felt her pain. Without thinking, he pulled her into his arms. She fought him, pushing and moaning and trying to get free. He dodged blows and turned a deaf ear to her curses as she wailed at everything from God to the lowest lizard, and still he held her. And when she wore herself out from the grief and the rage, he took out his handkerchief and wiped the tears from her face—and then kissed her. It wasn’t anything planned, and if he’d had his head on straight, it wasn’t anything he would ever have done. But he was as appalled by the waste of the brief life as she was and it seemed natural to give comfort to another grieving soul. Too stunned by the taste of him on her lips, she didn’t move. But when reality began to click in and she knew this wasn’t part of some dream, she slid her arms around his neck and wholeheartedly kissed him back. She had a vague memory of unbuttoning his coat and sliding her hands beneath his sweater to the warmth of his skin before they both gasped and then stepped back. There was a long moment of silence in which they stared at each other in disbelief. Then, without saying a word, January picked up her tote bag and disappeared. By the time Ben came to his senses and walked out from behind the hedge, the news van was driving away. “That did not happen,” he muttered, and then headed back toward the crime scene to finish his job.

~~~~

Sharon Sala is known for her Romantic Suspense, but this one adds horror into the mix... And the excerpts are even before the second chapter... The book is complex, but a page-turner as well... January DeLena had earned her reputation as a leading news hound. And right now, she was working on a story that nobody else knew about... She was known for going into the area where homeless people stayed and little by little she was picking up that many of the homeless were disappearing... She intended to find out the "Why?"

At the same time, Jay Carpenter, who had met death and escaped, had become a changed man. He dubbed himself "Sinner" and began to tour the area talking about religion, with his own personal slant... He had seen "Hell" and made it back and now was sharing his story as a warning... But he still felt like he had to do more--he couldn't take any chance to be sent back to where he'd been. But, the surgeon, in clarifying that he had not been able to reach all of the tumor, had told him to expect a shorter life, perhaps just months. Jay felt he had to act faster and prayed, thinking he had been given God's answer: "Act like Jesus Acted." He began to explore some of the major events performed by Jesus... 

He had learned stories at some time in his life and with a little research, he then had to figure out how to act as Jesus acted... He remembered that Jesus had caused a scene in front of the temple and drove all of the sellers there away from that place. Jay's substitute was to consider the IRS group, who taxed people, as equivalent, and began preaching on the steps leading to the government offices, and then went inside and tried to have all employees leave the building... which had the police going to the building to pull Jay away!

But it didn't take Ben long to connect that scene with the fact that they might be looking for a street preacher! They had a sketch artist create a picture of the man calling himself Sinner...  And January knew it was the same man she had seen, but for her own reasons decided not to share that with the police...

The book doesn't say whether Jay Carpenter had owned a taxi cab, but now he was using it off the books to steal customers from known cab companies. Interesting Jay saw nothing wrong with all that he had begun to do... He thought he was being guided by God to "buy" his way into heaven... Yes, you are right, because as soon as the evangelical christians supported DJT, many questioned the whys of that decision as well... Frank Schaeffer who I've mentioned recently was the first to explain why he turned from his father, from the evangelical church, and now has an ongoing commentary on various channels, including YouTube...

Yes, we can hear these individuals provide guidance, but, for me, reading Sharon Sala's book, The Chosen, has done what Jesus would have done... She told the story of how individuals can think they know what is right or wrong... Or, more specifically, how a former pimp might go about "changing" his life to become one who would be welcomed into God's presence... 

He created his own plan of action...and proceeded... He called himself "Sinner..." And Asked the question "Do you know Jesus?" ...And More...

When you read this book, which I highly recommend you do, plan to read it as if you were reading books being written these days in nonfiction... Trying to point out what this writer or that writer has come to understand and believe... Of course, I do it all the time. But in a fiction novel, there is one major difference... The author provides the emotional impact for all characters as they come face to face with the reality of the kind of cruelty man does to other people... And Sharon Sala does it better than other writers I've read... Plan to cringe at the horror. Plan to become invested in the two who meet at a crime scene and openly react to the murder of a young teen--and become closer through those emotions. This, then, is more you should know about her...

First published in 1991, she is a New York Times/USA Today, bestselling author with 145 plus books published in eight different genres, including Romantic Suspense, Mystery, Young Adult, Western, Fiction, Women's Fiction, Non-Fiction, and Children's books.

Watch for Penance - Coming Next...

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