Saving Baby Book Review

ABOUT THE BOOK

Seventeen-year-old Annie Rebarchek is thrilled when industrialist Houston Monroe hires her to look after his baby for the summer. But something’s not right. Monroe’s baby is weak and cries constantly. When Annie confronts Monroe about it, he goes into a rage and tells her to mind her own business. She tells her father but he thinks she’s exaggerating. Annie knows something is suspicious, but what? The next day she discovers something that makes her skin crawl. She nabs the baby and flees.

Now she’s on the run. Her only hope is exposing Monroe’s deadly evil before it’s too late—for her and the baby.

PURCHASE LINK

AMAZON

 

REVIEW

It was a pleasure to read Saving Baby by Gregg Bell.

Gregg never fails to amaze me with the scope of his imagination in the suspense novels he writes!

The plot of Saving Baby was quite different from his previous novels and I found it very intriguing. It truly made me stop and think! What would I do if I found out a baby was being neglected and abused by it’s father? Would I have the courage, even in my “over-the-hill” years to snag the little tyke and run? How would I have reacted at the ripe young age of seventeen?

The main characters are very well thought out and are strong opponents. The ancillary characters could have used more fleshing out to become real. Eli is someone I think would have added more depth to the story with his backstory since he ended up being crucial to the ending.

Annie managed to get in and out of a number of close calls, and that makes me wonder about the seventeen-year-olds of today. Would they have the knowledge and wherewithal to maneuver themselves through the challenges that Annie found herself in? I’m wondering if she shouldn’t have, perhaps, been a bit older with more life experience.

Overall, I was very happy with Saving Baby. It had enough suspense to keep me involved in the story. It had enough depth to have me asking questions of myself and about the world in general. That makes Saving Baby by Gregg Bell a great book in my library! Thank you, Gregg, for another exceptional novel!

I give Saving Baby by Gregg Bell five steaming hot cups of Room With Books coffee!

©January 8, 2017

Patricia, Reviews by Room With Books

 

EXCERPT

The baby was crying. Annie Rebarchek didn’t even know if it was a boy or a girl. This whole interview process was psyching her out. It was like something out of a spy novel—she’d had to follow all these instructions, do this and do that, just to get to the interview. It had seemed simple enough at first. Her father had just insisted she get a summer job. Having a substantial summer job would make her applications to top colleges that much more attractive, especially in today’s super-competitive environment. Annie had chafed at his demand—she wouldn’t have minded a firm request—but what could she do, she was only seventeen, and like her father always said, ‘If you live under my roof, you play by my rules.’

This baby kept crying. It was in a back room of the mansion somewhere. It might be on a different floor for all she knew. She wondered why nobody was comforting it, as it wasn’t a colicky cry. It was a sad, a very sad cry, a lament. Not like Annie was an expert but she knew what hurt sounded like. She was intimidated to say anything to this man, her potential boss, Houston Monroe, but the baby’s crying was making her so uncomfortable.

“So, Annie,” Monroe said with a smirk as he leaned back in his ergonomic recliner. “What makes you think you can handle such a large responsibility?”

“Because I’ve been babysitting since I was thirteen, and well, because I’ve always been a very responsible person.”

Monroe frowned. He was still handsome though, Annie thought, in his crisply white shirt and with his wavy, silver-ish hair. But oh, his baby crying.

“Annie, the position is not babysitting. It’s being a domestic assistant.”

“Sir—”

“Let me stop you right there. I’m going to insist you call me Houston.”

Annie bit the inside of her cheek. Calling Houston Monroe, Phoenix’s billionaire environmentalist, by his first name was beyond her. But his baby crying was so sad. “Uh…”

“Houston.” He looked her sternly in the eye.

She had no choice. “Houston.”

“That’s better.”

“Houston, your baby is crying.”

Monroe tilted his head at her, to the left, to the right. “Did you notice hearing aids in either of these ears?”

She exhaled and shook her head.

“Thank you,” he said. “In other words, I can hear very well that Chase is crying, and let me assure you that Chase is fine, that he is in fact in optimal health. Now to return to my question. Are you prepared to handle the responsibilities of being a domestic assistant?”

Annie rolled back in her chair, forgetting it was on casters. Monroe’s office was ultra modern: a jade-green Lucite oval desk, a long-armed chrome extender lamp over it. “Yes. Very much so. But the baby crying—”

“I told you Chase is fine.

“Sir—”

“Houston.”

“Houston. Forgive me, but I’m telling you, your baby needs something. It’s hurting.”

Monroe stretched his long fingers behind his head and laughed as if he’d never heard anything more outlandish. He looked around at the Ming vases on his teak wood bookcases, at the photos of Phoenix’s mayor and himself, of movie stars and himself, hanging on his office walls. His face grew severe. “Are you saying that you know what Chase needs better than I do?”

“No. Just that I know he needs something now.”

He glowered. “Chase is learning discipline.”

Annie gripped the arms of her chair, fingernails digging into the fine leather. Oh, he just wasn’t getting it. Behind Monroe, Phoenix’s city lights down in the valley were popping on like thousands of little starbursts. Annie was so frustrated with Monroe, but now she really wanted the job, because if she got it, she’d be able to comfort his baby. She gripped the chair even tighter.

“So you think you’re mature enough to handle the position?” Monroe stated more than asked as he perused her job application and then flipped it onto the desk. “I must say your grades and references are superb.”

Annie could barely hear him. All she could think about was comforting his poor baby who was wailing so sadly. “Can I see the baby?”

Monroe snorted a laugh. “Want to see if he passes inspection?”

She shook her head quickly. “No. I just love babies.”

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Gregg Bell writes suspense. Suspense loaded with intrigue and excitement but lacking gratuitous violence, sex and profanity. Gregg likes reading books that entertain but also challenge him and would like to think he writes the same.

He was born in Chicago, Illinois. He’s done everything from selling puka shells on the beach in Florida to working for Sears in their corporate headquarters at Sears (now Willis) Tower. A lifelong Midwesterner, he lives in suburban Chicago. He’s a biking enthusiast, a photographer, and insists he would be a good golfer if only he could putt.

CONNECT WITH THE AUTHOR

Website

Amazon author page

Blog (The Underdog’s Corner)

Twitter

Facebook Author Page

 

Bell, Gregg: Jamie’s Gamble

 

Jamie’s Gamble

by Gregg Bell

Release date: 11/12/13

Jamie'sGamble800X1200

Blurb:

Jamie Thompson is the perfect person. Her CEO father has made sure of that. She has the perfect manners, a perfect tennis backhand and a perfect life. Jamie has a silver spoon in her mouth—and she’s gagging on it.

She has to get away.

She’s come up with the perfect plan. A friend in a west Texas border town has lined up an accounting job for her, but when Jamie gets there the job has fallen through. But there’s a waitress position open at a bar and grill. The one thing Jamie knows is she isn’t going back to her father, and so, broke, sixteen hundred miles from home and alone for the first time in her life, she goes for it.

What she finds is a world of gun-toting cowboys, Mexican drug gangs, the occult and a string of brutal rapes and murders. And Ricky Benson, a flame-throwing baseball pitcher, fallen from grace, who she falls head over heels in love with.

But the violence escalates. A fellow waitress is murdered, and Jamie feels like she might be next. Then Ricky Benson is accused of murder.

Jamie can make one phone call and her father will send the company jet for her—or she can stay and face the life that confronts her and fight for the man she loves.

Purchase Links:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Jamies-Gamble-Suspense-Novel-Gregg-ebook/dp/B00DH4KP9C

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Jamies-Gamble-Suspense-Novel-Gregg-ebook/dp/B00DH4KP9C

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/jamies-gamble-gregg-bell/1115749735?ean=2940148990581

Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/jamie-s-gamble-1

iBookstore: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/jamies-gamble/id664003348?mt=11

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/333105

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18126268-jamie-s-gamble

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Review

Jamie ran far away in the hope that her father’s influence would no longer be the one thing in life that controlled her very existence. She had to go. . .leave it all behind to find herself, to prove herself, to herself!

Ricky’s life has been rolling downhill fast. It began when his shoulder was injured in high school, ruining his dreams of becoming a major league baseball pitcher. Drinking ruined his hopes, now it is slowly ruining his life. What will it take to prove to him that he

Their lives became entwined in a town filled with drugs, prostitution, death and corruption.

Gregg Bell has woven a tale of suspense and intrigue. His masterful story telling comes to the forefront of Jamie’s Gamble very quickly as this tale unfolds. I found myself immersed in wanting to know how he would manage to tie it all up in the few short pages I had left.

A masterful work by a true wordsmith. Jamie’s Gamble by Gregg Bell is a suspense novel I highly recommend!

3D 5 Gold Stars

~ Patricia, Room With Books ~ © May 15, 2014

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Excerpt

Ricky ran down the tracks. He ran and he fell and he ran, his heart beating triple-time, sweat gushing from his pores. William. Impossible but true. Ricky’s chest heaved. What now? What to do? Where to go? William killed Bubba Adkins. William killed him.

A light shined in the distance. A train? Ricky checked behind him. Blackness. He looked back at the light. No horn or locomotive. Big Iron already? Ricky looked behind him again. Still nothing. He slid down the mound of stones and hid behind a fallen tree. The light came nearer, but he could see now that it wasn’t very big. It was a flashlight, and it was closer than he’d thought. The sweat snaked down his chest. He could smell the decaying tree, feel its crumbling bark.

The person walking down the tracks wasn’t big enough to be Big Iron.

“Ricky!”

“Jamie?”

Jamie froze as if hit by an electric current. Her voice cracked. “Ricky?”

He threw a leg over the tree, slipped, tried again and climbed over. “Jamie, what the hell are you doing out here?”

“Looking for you.” She spun her fanny pack around, slid down the stones and threw herself into his arms. “Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re all right.”

Her body felt so warm. She smelled so good. But…they had to get out of there. William killed Bubba Adkins. And what did this embrace mean anyway? What did she want from him now?  First she’s leaving, then she’s dissing him, and now she’s messing with his head. And William killed Bubba. Oh my God. William killed Bubba. He pulled away. “Jamie, let me go. I gotta get out of here.”

“Oh.” She released him.

He hustled past her, up the mound of stones and onto the tracks. He looked back at her. “You need to get out of here too.”

“Where are you going?”

He sighed. “Jamie, there’s no time. Just follow me.” He started down the tracks.

She scrambled up the stones, pointed her flashlight at the ties and followed. “Ricky, wait. I’ve so much to say to you. Please don’t be mad.”

He picked up his pace but then slipped off a tie and fell hard. “Damn it!”

“Wait.” She helped him up. “I’m staying, Ricky. I’m staying in Langston. And I’m sorry for what I said at the Double D. I was out of line. Ricky, I really want to give us a chance.”

Life mocked him. That’s all he could think. He looked down the tracks toward Bubba Adkins’ and then at Jamie. It was dark but he caught a glimpse of her face, and her face was so passionate. And so pretty. But could he trust this, or was life playing one last trick on him?

“I know you were hurt before.” She leaned into him. “And I know I hurt you too. But I won’t ever hurt you again, Ricky. I swear it.”

Was this for real? But William killed Bubba. The sheriff and his deputies would be coming. Soon. Ricky peered down the tracks. He was wasting time. “I have to go.”

“No!” She threw her arms around his waist. “No, you don’t.”

“Jamie!”

“My God, Ricky, you’re trembling.”

“This has nothing to do with you, okay? Now let me go.”

“But why?”

It sounded like a firecracker went off in the distance.

He pulled her down off the tracks. “Kill the flashlight!”

Another pop. Another.

“Oh God, this is not good. Not good,” he said softly.

Another pop this time closer, and Jamie pulled the revolver from her fanny pack. “I’ve got this.”

Ricky grabbed the gun and flicked off the safety. A muzzle flashed down the tracks and he fired at it. He fired again.

People yelled. Could he have hit something? Someone?

Jamie clung to him.

“Got more bullets?”

She swallowed. “In the car.”

“Doesn’t matter. We gotta make a break for it.”

“Who do you think it is?”

Two more pops.

They leaned into each other. “I don’t know,” he said, “but we gotta go.”

“Won’t they shoot us if we do?”

“Probably. But if we stay, they’ll shoot us for sure.”

“Oh God.”

“You ready?”

She nodded.

“Let’s go!” Ricky fired three quick shots, grabbed Jamie by the hand and they started running alongside the tracks.

There was more shooting, yelling behind them. Ricky held Jamie’s hand tightly as they ran, but they tripped over some tree roots, and Jamie fell right on top of him.

“Oh!” she cried.

“Are you okay?” He brushed the hair from her face.

“I think so.”

It’s all over, he thought. Big Iron and his deputies would be on them in no time. He rolled Jamie off him so he was covering her. When they shot, maybe he could protect her with his body. He waited. And waited. And waited.

Nothing happened.

He looked over his shoulder. Nobody. “Let’s go.” He yanked Jamie up, and they ran to the Double D’s parking lot.

“Here.” He handed her the gun. “Stick this in the fanny pack.”

She did. “Ricky—”

“I can’t talk to you.” He could see her clearer now. “I have to go. Just get in your car and get out of here.”

“But where are you going? Can’t you tell me what’s happening?”

“No.”

“Who shot at us?”

He shook his head.

She took a deep breath, then leaned up and kissed him on the lips. “Ricky, I think I love you.”

In his mind’s eye, all he could see was his brother’s face as his brother stood over Bubba Adkins’ bloody body.

“My God, Ricky, it’s like you’re not even here with me.” She touched the bandage on his forehead, then held his elbows. “What happened back there?”

He looked at her. “Jamie, believe me, you’re better off not knowing. Now I have to go.”

“No.”

He looked over her shoulder at the tracks.

She slipped her arms around his waist. “I’m staying with you. Now please tell me what happened.”

“I told you, it has nothing to do with you.”

“No, but now if it has to do with you it has to do with me.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Make me understand, Ricky.” She took his face into her hands and kissed him again. “I’m on your side. Let me help you.”

He pushed her away. “Don’t you understand? I can’t!”

“But why?”

He looked down.

She angled her face under his and kissed him. He didn’t pull away, so she kissed him again. And again. Finally his lips pushed back a little. “Ricky, I love you,” she whispered, and when she did, his hand cupped the small of her back and pulled her to him.

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Fun Facts about Gregg Bell:

Fifteen things readers don’t know about me:

  • My middle name is Gerard because I was a difficult birth, and St. Gerard is the patron saint of difficult births (although I haven’t fact checked this!)
  • I got a hole-in-one playing golf
  • I was hit in the head by a golf ball (yes, it hurt)
  • I am a really good dancer
  • I am very ambidextrous
  • I’m a daily meditator
  • I do an Elmer Fudd sings Bruce Sprinsteen impersonation
  • I broke my wrist hopping a tennis net while streaking (not recently)
  • I once dreamed I was making out with Hillary Clinton
  • I have never been any good at blowing my nose in public
  • People often mistake my voice for a woman’s (it happened at the McDonalds drive-thru recently)
  • I found a stray deaf dog and adopted him (Champ)
  • I was dropped on my head as a baby (probably why I became a writer)
  • I can whistle really loudly
  • I am really glad to have completed these fifteen things!

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Author bio:

GreggBell231x249When I was ten a drunken guy almost drowned me in a swimming pool. It was in Miami Beach at the Chateau motel. The guy was a pool hand and he was wrestling (playfully, for the most part)with us kids. Then he said, “I’m going to show you a good hold” and he got me in a headlock and took me under. It was a good hold all right. He held me there and held me there and held me there. I struggled but this was a powerful man. There was nothing to do. I would either die or I wouldn’t.

That experience gave me an appreciation for life’s tenuousness. If you think about it, we’re only alive as far as our next breath will take us.

So I write novels and stories about characters like you and me with their heads underwater. (Figuratively speaking of course.) Characters under so much duress their brains are about to burst. They’re at the end of it all. No way out of this one. But I also write with a sense of humor. (You have to have a sense of humor, right?)

I was born in 1956 in Chicago. A lifelong Illinois guy. Married once. Divorced. No kids. No pets. Passionate about things: people, classical music, golf. And I always seem to be on the side of the underdog.

Author Links:

Gregg Bell’s website: http://greggbell.net/

Gregg Bell’s blog “The Underdog’s Corner”: http://greggbell1.blogspot.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/GreggBell1

Goodreads Author page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7148350.Gregg_Bell

Amazon Author page: http://www.amazon.com/Gregg-Bell/e/B00ADR62PM

Facebook Author page: www.facebook.com/pages/Gregg-Bell/212349142247022

Bell, Gregg: The Find

TheFind

About the book

What can a mother do when she has no money and a dangerously sick kid?

She can make a mistake.

In a moment of desperation, cleaning lady Phoebe Jackson tries to pawn the diamond-bejeweled Rolex she found in a mobster’s locker. Turns out the watch is a fake, but the mobster isn’t—and he’s on to her.

 New Ditzel

Excerpt

Phoebe collapsed onto the sofa in her apartment. She was always exhausted after working her midnight-to-noon shift at Players. But today she was nervous too. She took the red velvet bag she’d found in the locker out of her purse. She’d just done it. She’d just run back to the attendant’s desk and grabbed the bag. At the time, she’d been thinking that those mobster guys that were members at the club were so rich, they could live without whatever was in the bag. Hell, they might not even notice it was missing.

She opened the bag and took out the watch. It was some watch. She held it in her trembling hand. A solid gold Rolex with twelve diamonds at each of the hours. And they weren’t tiny diamonds either like the zirconium earrings her ex-husband had bought her from a TV infomercial back when they were married. These were like a third of a carat each. And the watch felt like it weighed a couple of pounds.

A door closed in the apartment building’s common area and Phoebe flinched. Had she locked her door? She jumped up and checked. Locked. She went back to the sofa. It was snowing outside, the snow building up little drifts on the bulky wood-frame windows, the occasional wind gusts hitting the windows sounding like bassoons wailing. What was she doing with the watch? Oh, she had her excuse all ready— she’d just been in a hurry to get everything clean by five and stashed the watch in her purse fully intending to return it, but then, in the rush, she’d forgotten. Still, she knew the longer she held onto the watch, the more guilty she would appear. She figured she could only hold it till she went in to work the next morning. And even that would be stretching it.

She went to the kitchen and took a bite of a somewhat stale chocolate doughnut that one of the kids had left out from breakfast. Grab the next bus and run the watch right back is what she ought to do. She couldn’t lose this job. Her girls. If anything happened to her, her girls would be on their own. Sure, her parents lived just down the street, but they were barely eking by on social security, and getting a little feeble minded too. She wiped her mouth and marched straight for the watch. She checked the time on it. The next bus didn’t run for forty minutes. Damn it.

Forty minutes. Forty minutes. The time seemed oppressive. She wondered what was happening back at Players? Had the missing watch been reported? Was the member making a stink? Claiming foul play? Claiming she took it? Oh God, what a mess. Forty minutes. It could’ve been forty days.

She just had the watch for a few hours and was already feeling the criminal’s sense of guilt, and the need to turn herself in. Which was crazy. Her excuse would fly. At least she thought it would. But then again, some of the club’s members were lawyers, and the sleazy type, the type that defended the mobsters, who were other members. Lawyers could always find a way to get ordinary people in trouble. No, she never should have taken it.

She sat on the sofa and ran a fingernail between the corduroy lines on one of the cushions. She lifted the watch from the cocktail table. It was beautiful. A work of art really. Phoebe had an artist’s sensibility. She looked around her apartment: the mauve walls, the impressionist prints there, the stained-glass light fixture hanging from the ceiling. The watch fit right in. It was elegant. She wondered what it would go for. She laughed. Dana would know. Her best friend Dana was an on-line auction, secondhand store, pawn shop guru. Phoebe picked up her cell phone and hit the speed dialer for her friend.

“Dana, have a minute?”

“Ha. Amazing that you called, Phoebe. I’m driving by your house right now. Look out the window and I’ll wave.”

Phoebe stood and walked to the window. She saw Dana’s old Buick rolling by slowly in the falling snow. “I really need to talk to you.”

“Why don’t I just come up?”

Phoebe looked at the Rolex. She had a half hour till the next bus. But did she really want to let somebody else into all this? She looked at a photo of her girls on the cocktail table. What the hell. She was turning the watch in anyway. “Yeah. Come on up.”

Clunking on the wooden stairs. Phoebe opened the door and waited, the clunking growing progressively louder. Dana was always ready with a smile. “The snow is flying sideways out there,” she said, brushing snow off her shoulders. She was buried in a puffy, sectioned ski jacket, a green scarf and a tasseled knit cap. She took off the cap, her brown hair cascading down her shoulders, and smacked the cap against her hip. “So when we moving to Florida?”

Phoebe laughed. “In our dreams.”

Dana slipped out of her boots. “So what’s up?”

Phoebe held the door open wide. “Oh, nothing.”

Dana walked in. “Is that the same nothing that you really needed to talk to me about?”

Phoebe looked at the watch on the cocktail table and swallowed hard. Dana was going to see it any second. “I’ve got slippers if your feet are cold.”

“I’m fine.” Dana gravitated to the watch like metal drawn to a magnet. “And what do we have here?”

“That’s the nothing.” Phoebe crossed her arms. This was another threshold crossing. Another person knew. That did it— the watch was definitely going back. “I found it at Players when I was cleaning a locker and forgot to turn it in. In fact, I’ve only got a couple minutes before I’m grabbing the next bus back there to return it.”

“Oh, Phoebe,” Dana said breathlessly, “this watch is the real thing. Top of the line. We’re talking fifteen grand retail.”

Phoebe collapsed into an arm chair. “How much?”

“Fifteen thousand dollars.”

In her mind’s eye, Phoebe saw her daughter Cessie at the hospital getting top-notch medical care for her diabetes, rather than getting railroaded out as fast as they could push her because she was uninsured. She breathed in deep. “Are you sure?”

Dana nodded. “Positive.”

Phoebe thought about it for a minute, then shook her head. “Well, it doesn’t matter because I’m turning it in.”

Dana’s eyes were loaded with questions.

“What, Dana?”

Her friend shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”

“But you were thinking.”

“I could get you ten grand for this, Phoebe. No sweat. No questions asked.”

“Well, that’s great, Dana, but it’s not going to happen.” It was tempting, though, because of Cessie. But no, it wasn’t going to happen. “I’ve already made up my mind.”

“You do what you have to, girlfriend. I just know I could get you ten K for this without batting an eye.”

“Well, maybe in a perfect world, I would. But this isn’t a perfect world.”

“But you said you found it.”

“Yes. Technically, I did.”

“Well, whatever happened to finders keepers?”

“Oh, okay.”  Phoebe shot her a few nods. “Will you visit me in jail? Raise the girls for me while I’m there?”

“Come on, Phoebe.” Dana leaned toward her. “There are ways of doing things.”

“I have to catch the bus, Dana.”

Phoebe’s ringtone on her cell played. She checked the caller id. “Oh God, what is this.” She pushed a green button on the phone. “This is Phoebe Jackson.”

“Mrs. Jackson, this is the Chicago Police department. Your daughter Cessie was found unconscious on the side of the road, lying in a snow bank. Apparently she was walking home from school and had some kind of seizure.”

“She’s diabetic! Didn’t you find her medic alert bracelet?”

“Ma’am, this is the ChicagoPolice department. We called the paramedics right away. Your child’s at ArensonHospital.”

Phoebe hung up the phone. “Can you drive me to ArensonHospital? Cessie’s had another diabetic reaction.”

Dana stood from the sofa. “Let’s go.”

Phoebe stashed the Rolex under a sofa cushion.

 New Ditzel

 Review

The Find by Gregg Bell is a masterful story written with suspense that holds on to you until the very end!

The characters are twisted together in so many different ways that it keeps you wondering how it’s going to end up. They are strong and strange and quirky and dangerous. I started reading and couldn’t put it down until I reached the end.

Mr. Bell writes with a great deal of thought. The real-life situation of choosing what to do to help your family versus doing what you know is the right thing is a great conundrum that faces most parents during their life-time. That our heroine ultimately learned from her mistake was refreshing.

I’m looking forward to reading more of Mr. Bell’s work. I heartily recommend The Find by Gregg Bell!

Four

~Patricia, Room With Books~ © Feb 22, 2014

New Ditzel

Purchase links

 

New Ditzel

Fun Facts

Fifteen things readers don’t know about me:

  1. My middle name is Gerard because I was a difficult birth, and St.Gerard is the patron saint of difficult births (although I haven’t fact checked this!).
  2. I got a hole-in-one playing golf.
  3. I was hit in the head by a golf ball (yes, it hurt).
  4. I am a really good dancer.
  5. I am very ambidextdrous.
  6. I’m a daily meditator.
  7. I do an Elmer Fudd sings Bruce Sprinsteen impersonation.
  8. I broke my wrist hopping a tennis net while streaking (not recently).
  9. I once dreamt I was making out with Hillary Clinton.
  10. I have never been any good at blowing my nose in public.
  11. People often mistake my voice for a woman’s (it happened at the McDonalds drive-thru recently).
  12. I found a stray deaf dog and adopted him (Champ).
  13. I was dropped on my head as a baby (probably why I became a writer).
  14. I can whistle really loudly.
  15.  am really glad to have completed these fifteen things!

New Ditzel

About the author

When I was ten a drunken guy almost drowned me in a swimming pool. It was in Miami Beach at the Chateau motel. The guy was a pool hand and he was wrestling (playfully, for the most part) with us kids. Then he said, “I’m going to show you a good hold” and he got me in a headlock and took me under. It was a good hold all right. He held me there and held me there and held me there. I struggled but this was a powerful man. There was nothing to do. I would either die or I wouldn’t.

That experience gave me an appreciation for life’s tenuousness. If you think about it, we’re only alive as far as our next breath will take us.

So I write novels and stories about characters like you and me with their heads underwater. (Figuratively speaking of course.) Characters under so much duress their brains are about to burst. They’re at the end of it all. No way out of this one. But I also write with a sense of humor. (You have to have a sense of humor, right?)

I was born in 1956 in Chicago. A lifelong Illinois guy. Married once. Divorced. No kids. No pets. Passionate about things: people, classical music, golf. And I always seem to be on the side of the underdog.

 

New Ditzel

Social Media

 

  • Gregg Bell’s website: http://greggbell.net/

  • Gregg Bell’s blog “The Underdog’s Corner”: http://greggbell1.blogspot.com/

  • Twitter: https://twitter.com/GreggBell1

  • Goodreads Author page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7148350.Gregg_Bell

  • Amazon Author page: http://www.amazon.com/Gregg-Bell/e/B00ADR62PM

  • Facebook Author page: www.facebook.com/pages/Gregg-Bell/212349142247022