Tainted (G Street Chronicles Presents) by NeNe Capri
Link: http://amzn.com/B00I8NZPBA
Motivation: Mastering the Game by Swift
Link: http://amzn.com/B00LLXJI4E
Thursday, August 7, 2014
Looking For Something Good To Read!!!!!
Looking For Something Good To Read: 2 Hot Authors...2 Great Reads.......Don't Miss Out......Available Now
Tainted (G Street Chronicles Presents) by NeNe Capri
Link: http://amzn.com/B00I8NZPBA
Motivation: Mastering the Game by Swift
Link: http://amzn.com/B00LLXJI4E
Tainted (G Street Chronicles Presents) by NeNe Capri
Link: http://amzn.com/B00I8NZPBA
Motivation: Mastering the Game by Swift
Link: http://amzn.com/B00LLXJI4E
Writing Royalty Radio Author, Singer and Song Writer Bunny Debarge
Tonight we had the talented and beautiful, Author, Singer and Song Writer Bunny DeBarge in the club house on Writing Royalty Radio,she dropped real jewels tonight...If you missed the show hit the link below....
Show Link: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/writingroyaltyradio/2014/08/07/writing-royalty-radio-bunny-debarge
Keep Your Cyber Eyez Peeled For Her New Book In The Fall
Show Link: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/writingroyaltyradio/2014/08/07/writing-royalty-radio-bunny-debarge
Keep Your Cyber Eyez Peeled For Her New Book In The Fall
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
Motivation: Mastering the Game by Swift...Available Now
Motivation: Mastering the Game by Swift
Excerpt from Chapter 10
The ground was still moist from the rain a few hours earlier, which came down in sprinkles periodically throughout the day. It was almost 2am and Quesha was ready to go in. Today had been a slow one for everybody, but Key demanded that they stayed on the clock. Nobody was ever allowed to return to the room before 3am on weekdays, and today was a Tuesday.
She was a few blocks east of Canal when he noticed her. As he continued to stalk her from an alley just up the street that she was strolling, he prayed that she didn’t cross over. When he knew for sure that she would be passing. He slid up against the wall of the building careful not to alarm her as she approached.
He could hear her footsteps growing louder now. And as he seen trace of her shadow appearing he prepared himself for the grab. Just as she stepped past the wall he lunged at her placing his hands around Quesha’s mouth while pulling her towards the alley at the same time. It was completely dark now. He managed to drag her thirty feet as she fought for her life. She was trying her best to get a look at her abductor. Until finally he stopped, turned her around, and jammed the knife into her throat repeatedly.
“Bitch, you should’ve stayed in Milwaukee. This shit is real out here, don’t no nigga disrespect Smoove.”
She stared at him in shock not able to scream for help. He kept his hand over her mouth the entire time until her body went limp and she stopped breathing. Then he picked her up and tossed her lifeless body into the huge dumpster. Wishing, all the while that she’d been one of those two punks who had humiliated him and stole his bread and butter
Amazon Link: http://tinyurl.com/mql7o7v
Excerpt from Chapter 10
The ground was still moist from the rain a few hours earlier, which came down in sprinkles periodically throughout the day. It was almost 2am and Quesha was ready to go in. Today had been a slow one for everybody, but Key demanded that they stayed on the clock. Nobody was ever allowed to return to the room before 3am on weekdays, and today was a Tuesday.
She was a few blocks east of Canal when he noticed her. As he continued to stalk her from an alley just up the street that she was strolling, he prayed that she didn’t cross over. When he knew for sure that she would be passing. He slid up against the wall of the building careful not to alarm her as she approached.
He could hear her footsteps growing louder now. And as he seen trace of her shadow appearing he prepared himself for the grab. Just as she stepped past the wall he lunged at her placing his hands around Quesha’s mouth while pulling her towards the alley at the same time. It was completely dark now. He managed to drag her thirty feet as she fought for her life. She was trying her best to get a look at her abductor. Until finally he stopped, turned her around, and jammed the knife into her throat repeatedly.
“Bitch, you should’ve stayed in Milwaukee. This shit is real out here, don’t no nigga disrespect Smoove.”
She stared at him in shock not able to scream for help. He kept his hand over her mouth the entire time until her body went limp and she stopped breathing. Then he picked her up and tossed her lifeless body into the huge dumpster. Wishing, all the while that she’d been one of those two punks who had humiliated him and stole his bread and butter
Amazon Link: http://tinyurl.com/mql7o7v
2 Hot Pens......1 Banger Series.......Get This Cash and Capri 5 Star Heat Today..........
Get This Cash and Capri 5 Star Banger Series Today..........
****What you know about that soldier they call Kiam? Check Him Out***
At age twenty-six the trail of blood he had left behind was long and thick. And honestly it was only going to get thicker. As he turned to check to see if he had everything, one of his boys entered his cell appearing to be all about business.
"Ay, Kiam, one of your homeboys just came on the compound. Some cat who calls himself Supreme. He says he's from the eastside of Cleveland . Isn't that your hood?" asked Philly Cat, a straight up G from South Philadelphia who was serving thirty years behind a snitch nigga's testimony. Philly Cat was one of the dudes responsible for checking new arrivals' credentials when they first came on compound to make sure that they were solid. The rule stood firm, snitches weren't allowed to live amongst real niggas at Lewisburg.
“Yeah, that's my hood,” Kiam attested. “But the name Supreme don't ring no bells. Did you check out his papers?” “Nah, he says he sent them home.” Philly stood, rubbing his hands together.“Well, you know the rules, if the homie can't prove who he is, he has to get off the compound. It don't matter where he's from. He's not my muthafuckin’ homie.”
Kiam wasn't claiming nobody that couldn't prove their officialness. He stood contemplating for a minute then rendered his verdict. “Take me to that nigga.” Philly Cat led Kiam outside on the yard where other solid men were questioning Supreme. Kiam walked up and studied the newcomer. He didn't recognize the nigga's face so he kept quiet and listened to his responses. It was obvious that if Supreme wasn't from that city once dubbed The Mistake by the Lake, he had at least lived there for a while. He knew the names of all the shot-callers, and he knew all the hoods. He claimed to have once had the notorious Garden Valley projects on Kinsman Avenue on smash before they were torn down and rebuilt, but something didn't seem right about ol' boy. "Fam, what's your government? ” Kiam cut in. “Michael Gresham,” Supreme replied, mean-mugging, with his thick arms folded across his chest. Kiam ignored the weak intimidation tactic. Instead he entertained him with a small chuckle which was Kiam’s signature stamp of death. Instantly Supreme knew he had stepped through the gates of hell and Kiam appeared to be the devil himself. Supreme was a big muthafucka, but size doesn't determine a man's gangsta. His biggest mistake was he hadn't looked Kiam in the eye. That in itself hinted at a flaw in his get-down. Boss niggas could match a man's gaze with one better.
“Homie, I'm gonna make a few calls and check out your street cred. If you're not who you claim to be, you better check off compound now,” he warned Supreme. Kiam didn’t stay a second past his words; he turned his back on Supreme and walked away. That nigga frontin’. I can see fear in his eyes. If it turns out he's a rat, hiding under a different name, I'm gonna send him up out of here in a body bag. It didn't matter that his release date was upon him, his gangsta was never on hold. Kiam used his celly Pop's contraband cell phone to reach out to the streets. It only took a few calls to find out that Michael Gresham was indeed a thorough dude. But the nigga that also called himself Supreme was not that Michael Gresham.
By evening Kiam had learned that the Michael Gresham that had Kinsman on smash got thirty-five years and was at ADX Florence, the super max federal prison in Colorado. The description nor the reputation fitted this clown down here. What the fuck is this nigga hiding? wondered Kiam. The question rang strong in his mind, but he damn sure didn’t have time to figure it out. Kiam hated fake niggas with a passion. He believed that they all should be killed. Weak, fake niggas had cost a lot of good men their lives, taking the stand and selling their souls. In that moment the decision was made. Supreme's fate was death. In fact, Kiam felt that he deserved the most gruesome death just for calling himself some real shit like Supreme when he was not anything close to it.
****What you know about that soldier they call Kiam? Check Him Out***
At age twenty-six the trail of blood he had left behind was long and thick. And honestly it was only going to get thicker. As he turned to check to see if he had everything, one of his boys entered his cell appearing to be all about business.
"Ay, Kiam, one of your homeboys just came on the compound. Some cat who calls himself Supreme. He says he's from the eastside of Cleveland . Isn't that your hood?" asked Philly Cat, a straight up G from South Philadelphia who was serving thirty years behind a snitch nigga's testimony. Philly Cat was one of the dudes responsible for checking new arrivals' credentials when they first came on compound to make sure that they were solid. The rule stood firm, snitches weren't allowed to live amongst real niggas at Lewisburg.
“Yeah, that's my hood,” Kiam attested. “But the name Supreme don't ring no bells. Did you check out his papers?” “Nah, he says he sent them home.” Philly stood, rubbing his hands together.“Well, you know the rules, if the homie can't prove who he is, he has to get off the compound. It don't matter where he's from. He's not my muthafuckin’ homie.”
Kiam wasn't claiming nobody that couldn't prove their officialness. He stood contemplating for a minute then rendered his verdict. “Take me to that nigga.” Philly Cat led Kiam outside on the yard where other solid men were questioning Supreme. Kiam walked up and studied the newcomer. He didn't recognize the nigga's face so he kept quiet and listened to his responses. It was obvious that if Supreme wasn't from that city once dubbed The Mistake by the Lake, he had at least lived there for a while. He knew the names of all the shot-callers, and he knew all the hoods. He claimed to have once had the notorious Garden Valley projects on Kinsman Avenue on smash before they were torn down and rebuilt, but something didn't seem right about ol' boy. "Fam, what's your government? ” Kiam cut in. “Michael Gresham,” Supreme replied, mean-mugging, with his thick arms folded across his chest. Kiam ignored the weak intimidation tactic. Instead he entertained him with a small chuckle which was Kiam’s signature stamp of death. Instantly Supreme knew he had stepped through the gates of hell and Kiam appeared to be the devil himself. Supreme was a big muthafucka, but size doesn't determine a man's gangsta. His biggest mistake was he hadn't looked Kiam in the eye. That in itself hinted at a flaw in his get-down. Boss niggas could match a man's gaze with one better.
“Homie, I'm gonna make a few calls and check out your street cred. If you're not who you claim to be, you better check off compound now,” he warned Supreme. Kiam didn’t stay a second past his words; he turned his back on Supreme and walked away. That nigga frontin’. I can see fear in his eyes. If it turns out he's a rat, hiding under a different name, I'm gonna send him up out of here in a body bag. It didn't matter that his release date was upon him, his gangsta was never on hold. Kiam used his celly Pop's contraband cell phone to reach out to the streets. It only took a few calls to find out that Michael Gresham was indeed a thorough dude. But the nigga that also called himself Supreme was not that Michael Gresham.
By evening Kiam had learned that the Michael Gresham that had Kinsman on smash got thirty-five years and was at ADX Florence, the super max federal prison in Colorado. The description nor the reputation fitted this clown down here. What the fuck is this nigga hiding? wondered Kiam. The question rang strong in his mind, but he damn sure didn’t have time to figure it out. Kiam hated fake niggas with a passion. He believed that they all should be killed. Weak, fake niggas had cost a lot of good men their lives, taking the stand and selling their souls. In that moment the decision was made. Supreme's fate was death. In fact, Kiam felt that he deserved the most gruesome death just for calling himself some real shit like Supreme when he was not anything close to it.
Amazon http://tinyurl.com/odomvu2
Barnes and Noble http://tinyurl.com/nldnx4u
Book A Million http://tinyurl.com/o6sv4d8
Need a book shipped to loved one that is incarceratedhttp://www.gstreetchronicles.com/
Saturday, August 2, 2014
A Woman On The Move...True Crime Author Cathy Scott..........
Author Cathy Scott is a veteran crime writer, award-winning investigative journalist, public speaker and Los Angeles Times bestselling author. Her books have been reprinted in the U.K. and in Poland. Scott's work has taken her to Somalia, Saudi Arabia and Panama, as well as all over the U.S. Author Cathy Scott has written 10 books, she is best known for penning The Killing of Tupac Shakur and The Murder of Biggie Smalls, her work has appeared in The New York Times Magazine, New York Post, San Diego Union-Tribune, George magazine, The Christian Science Monitor, Las Vegas Sun and Reuters news service. Cathy taught journalism at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas for five years until she traveled to the Gulf region with a magazine in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and stayed four months, resulting in the book Pawprints of Katrina with a foreword by actress and animal activist Ali MacGraw. She has covered the mob extensively, including murdered Mafia daughter Susan Berman and racketeer "Fat Herbie" Blitzstein. Her latest books are The Millionaire’s Wife and Murder in Beverly Hills, which was awarded a Silver Award Fore Word magazine’s 2013 Best True Crime Books of the Year. Her recent TV appearances include Investigation Discovery, CNN, VH1 and A&E. Cathy blogs about forensics and evidence for Psychology Today. A native San Diegan, she is based in Las Vegas and has a second home in the mountains of San Diego County. Her current book which she co- wrote with Freeway Rick Ross titled Freeway Rick Ross: The Untold Autobiography is available now.
Author Cathy Scott
Amazon Link: http://tinyurl.com/ooqhsb8
B & N Link: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/cathy-scott
Amazon Link: http://tinyurl.com/ooqhsb8
B & N Link: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/cathy-scott
Thursday, July 31, 2014
What's Hot On Writing Royalty Radio: Tonight on Writing Royalty Radio Authors: Tamika ...
What's Hot On Writing Royalty Radio: Tonight on Writing Royalty Radio Authors: Tamika ...: Tonight on Writing Royalty Radio Authors: Tamika Newhouse and Bengy Demond Sherman Topic "Side Niggaz" 7pm est/ 4pm pst Don't...
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