Bøger af Paul Shepherd

Is that Christy Love at the pool? Hollywood's bad girl. Shawn wasn't sure. She sure looks like her. Just the thought of Christy Love stuck in the same rehab clinic got Shawn's mind off of his addiction. It was Christy but Mark and Dick wasn't going to give her up so easy. Once the storm clears and the blood washes away, only one will be around to answer the question, what happened at rehab? Love and lost, laughs and cries, conspiracy theories and unbelievable events will have you guessing and biting your nails to the very last page of Hollywood Rehab. A THRILLER. "Hollywood Rehab" is one of those novels that keeps you guessing-starts off in a semi-serious way, but these wise-cracking young adults at a re-hab center will soon have you laughing, and wondering 'what the heck is up here?' Sean has the hots for Christy, a stunning young Hollywood starlet. A wild storm that makes them fight against nature for their lives, a ruthless killer who seems to be after everybody, and a lot of drugs can kill his love for her. I have to give Paul Shepherd kudos for writing something really different...and very funny. Joan Conning Afman, author; THE LAST TIME WE WERE HERE DEATH ISLAND VACATION FROM LOVE THE CHEETAH PRINCESS KINGSLEY WOODS {Coming May '13: SACRIFICE AT MYSTERY HILL) afmanjc@att.net

Michael and Carolyn's eyes locked. She was the most beautiful women he had ever seen. The Chronic he just blazed in the car might of influenced him a bit but in that moment he was completely enchanted. Carolyn's longing stare told him loud and clear that the attraction was mutual. If it were not for Carolyn's evil, demon possessed, homicidal boyfriend, that Michael inadvertently kills moments later, their chance encounter would have been fortuitous. Unfortunately evil had other ideas, take another host and continue it's killing spree and frame it's new friend... It's a great time! A fast paced, page turning, twisted, erotic, supernatural thriller! It's a great time! A fast paced, hot, erotic, supernatural thriller! EXCERPT: It was very dark, almost pitch black. I couldn't hear a thing, except for my heavy breathing. I was a bit nervous. I had never been in a situation like this before. The little room had the smell of old pine wood and body odor, my body odor. There wasn't any kind of air circulation in there and it was getting hotter by the moment. The only light came from the concealment screen that separated me from the priest. "Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It's been about fifteen years since my last confession." Maybe longer. "Very well, what is your confession?" The Father asked sounding half asleep. "Father I'm afraid I've done a very bad thing and I think I'm going to hell." "I see. Well my son, God weighs all sins equal and he died on the cross to take away all of our sins. All he asked for, is for you to ask for forgiveness." "I understand that. I also need some guidance." "Okay, let's start from the beginning then. Tell me your confession." "Okay Father. I'll tell you but parts of the story are a little embarrassing to admit, especially to a Priest." "Don't worry about that, you need to purge your soul, tell me everything." "Okay." It all started when I was driving through Texas. After losing my job six months ago. I've been making ends meet by helping a friend transport illegal narcotics across country, marijuana to be specific. Legal marijuana from California is in high demand on the East Coast. I transported it to a distributor in North Carolina. I was on my way back to So-Cal. I usually take HWY 40 to and from. It's the fastest route and it's clear of highway checkpoints, going out of California anyway. I made that trip four other times and I was getting a bit bored of the route, so I decided to take Interstate 10. I was driving through the long desolate part of Texas, the vast emptiness in between Houston and El Paso. The valleys were so vast that if someone dropped a nuke while you were in one there's a good chance they'd miss. I had half a tank of gas when I stopped at a BP for a fill up. With gas stations one hundred miles apart, I didn't want to chance it. After pumping my gas, I went inside for a Red Bull and a Snickers bar. That's where I saw Jezebel and it all started. "Jezebel? Was that the name she gave you or the name you gave her?" I must of stimulated a nerve. The Priest sounded interested all of a sudden. "That's the name she gave me, but not until later." Anyhow when I entered the BP's convenience store, Jezebel was leaning over the counter. She was pointing to her brand of cigarettes, Marlboro Special Blend Black. I don't know what the breakdown in communication was but the Middle Eastern attendant kept grabbing the wrong pack. Jezebel was quite the spectacle with her sun bleached blond hair, long, tan, toned, sexy legs. Her rear was firm and full in her Daisy Dukes. She was just so curvaceous and hot. At least her backside was. I was entranced, I couldn't see anything else, I was completely engrossed. I usually would have been satisfied with a glance and a few peaks while I was shopping or at check out but not this time. It was probably due to the joint I just finished off in the parking lot.

Sometimes I take notes, then lose the paper. Sometimes the power goes out, and I lose the poem. Sometimes it just won't rhyme. But the worst, is getting up in the middle of the night with some new "earthquake" idea, putting on the lights, computer, coffee pot, printer, and everything else, then look at the paper, and forget what it was all about. These are the poems of my treasure chest. The silly, the sad, the deep, and the true. I hope they will become a part of your treasure chest and that you may enjoy them for years to come.

Bright, new authors writing for churches and small groups to celebrate Christmas with dramas and skits. Writing is done in contemporary and tradition styles.

Bright, new authors writing for churches and small groups to celebrate Easter with dramas and skits. Writing is done in contemporary and tradition styles.

Bright, new authors writing for churches and small groups to celebrate Easter with dramas and skits. Writing is done in contemporary and tradition styles.

Bright, new authors writing for churches and small groups to celebrate Christmas with dramas and skits. Writing is done in contemporary and tradition styles.