First Word

Have you ever given anything away for free? Have you ever been surprised when something you're giving away suddenly completely loses its value to the point that you can't give free away at all? Yes, people will turn away from free things, which is hard to believe. You want to know why? Because if value is perceived as worthless than the question gets instilled in their heads, "Well, if you don't want it why should I?" Either free things will get perceived as junk (which is why they're free) or the subconscious mind will think, "What's wrong with it?" or "There's a catch." As a sales person it will surprise you to know that giving stuff away for free can be just as much work as selling it. So in that respect you might as well sell it. Here's the real insight: people respond well to DEALS and SALES. While you might not be able to give away anything without weird reactions and "no thank yous" switch your tactic to a s

Chapter 8 Detective Phil Harris and his partner Detective Leron Diego, a first-generation Latino in his early 30’s whose family hailed from Mexico City, drove quietly in an unmarked, brown late 1980’s sedan, which was today’s ride since the white Ford Crown Victoria had its transmission blow. Leron got in, buckled up, and put his hand down on day-old gum stuck to the camel-colored passenger seat. He lifted his hand, spotted the sticky mess, and groaned, “What the fuck, dude?” he said as he rolled down the window with his other hand and flicked it onto the pavement. Phil sniffed and chuckled, “Spearmint. Why don’t you eat it? Freshen your breath.” “Fuck off, that’s nasty shit. Some slob put that crap under the fucking seat! Some hombres ain’t got manners!” he complained. Phil enjoyed Leron as his partner. They had been riding together since they had been promoted to detective about the same time. Phil, who had graduated in criminal justice with perfec

Chapter 8 Detective Phil Harris and his partner Detective Leron Diego, a first-generation Latino in his early 30’s whose family hailed from Mexico City, drove quietly in an unmarked, brown late 1980’s sedan, which was today’s ride since the white Ford Crown Victoria had its transmission blow. Leron got in, buckled up, and put his hand down on day-old gum stuck to the camel-colored passenger seat. He lifted his hand, spotted the sticky mess, and groaned, “What the fuck, dude?” he said as he rolled down the window with his other hand and flicked it onto the pavement. Phil sniffed and chuckled, “Spearmint. Why don’t you eat it? Freshen your breath.” “Fuck off, that’s nasty shit. Some slob put that crap under the fucking seat! Some hombres ain’t got manners!” he complained. Phil enjoyed Leron as his partner. They had been riding together since they had been promoted to detective about the same time. Phil, who had graduated in criminal justice with perfec

Chapter 7 I walked off the elevator which led to the chic Scandinavian-designed bar with squared-off, white chairs in front of simple black tables with tops balanced by same-shaped bottoms so they resembled S’s. Sofas lined the back wall and sat up against floor-to-ceiling windows with an amazing view of the lit-up New York City skyline. My eyes settled on the spectacular sight until my gazed shifted to the man in the center of the long sofa, Evan. His blonde hair was slicked back with a touch of gel, and he wore a chic button-down cranberry-colored shirt and black slacks with the shirttails out. He looked appropriately casual and sexy. I noticed he had a steaming intensity to his looks and an appealing dark sexuality. He worked out as his arms were beautifully cut, and he was lean. I suspected a six-pack hidden under the perfectly pressed cranberry shirt. I found myself momentarily preoccupied with an inappropriate attraction since I was a married woman.

Chapter 6             It had been many weeks since Tess and Phil began their rituals of lunch and cocktail meetings. Tess had remembered their first cocktail meeting. They had scheduled it right after they met at Starbuck’s. At first, they had a tempestuous nature to their relationship upon her revelation that it had been more than just a TV appearance that had sucked her into the case not just her desire to write true crime. What Tess had rarely shared with anyone were her psychic gifts.   It hadn’t been just the body in the trunk or the handsome detective who had ignited a passionate desire to know what had happened and share it.   After she had seen the show, she had gone to bed that night and had a dream. She had seen a woman’s hand on the trunk of the Camry, but it hadn’t just been the hand it had been the feelings – like emotions plugged into and replacing her own. It had been the yearning she felt that pulled her heart. The woman’s distress along wi

Chapter 6             I sat at the small, black desk with the white bucket chair in my hotel room. I kept looking at Evan’s card as I sat in front of my laptop computer now online. I kept wondering about him. How did he know I was in this hotel? Did he see me earlier? My phone rang: Paul’s name appeared again. It was a three-hour time difference. He never called me on the road. One time I went on a three-week vacation to see my cousins in Wisconsin, and he hadn’t called me the entire time. My cousins had never asked about it, but I could tell they had thought it was strange. Paul just didn’t seem to care anymore – out of sight as they say.             “Hi, what’s up?”             “Lulu is crying all day. She has a cold and doesn’t feel good. You need to come home!” he flatly demanded.             “Paul, I can’t come home from New York City because Lulu has the sniffles. I spent $5,000 on the booth space alone.”             “Can’t you get your manager