Moving 1 Million Books For 0.99 Cents

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Hi Team,

I was invited to join this rowdy group of writers in combining our novels about the toughest heroes we’ve each ever written. While I write hard nose cops, my favorite hero/anti-hero is still the Savage Souls’ Justice Boudreaux.

This monster volume of bad boys includes 8 authors with 8 novels for 0.99 cents. Why? It’s simple. We all like each other, and wanted to work together while selling a ton of books.

Anthologies are always a great chance to discover new authors. Let’s face it, for less than a buck, you get my entire Savage Souls series (almost 400 pages), along with 7 other writers (all better than me!!!) before the holiday hassle.

No kidding – I want you to have this book, but be warned, some of these stories are NOT for the timid. I always like to warn folks up front because I’d rather lose a sale than a friend.

After you 1-CLICK it, let me know you ordered it in the comments so I can thank you. ALSO share this with your buds, they’ll love you.
Holly S Roberts Olivia Rigal Alexis Abbott Blair Babylong Author Theresa Hissong Meli Raine Author

Moving 1 Million Books For 0.99 Cents

FIT@50 / Week 81 – The Tie

FIT@50 / week 81

The Tie:
 
This is my first season of Texas high school football. I’ve not been to a high school football game since I last felt the sharp crack of my left tibia and fibula in 1982.
 
While much less painful than that October night, I’ve enjoyed becoming a drum-line booster for our 14 year old. I love sports. I don’t care if its pee-wee football or senior citizens Bache ball, I enjoy the skill but more importantly, the heart of the competitor. It’s why I will not watch the NFL or any other team endorsing a disregard for America’s principles over the purpose of turning a profit.
 
When high schoolers kneel during the National Anthem to protest social injustices, just what injustices are they protesting? Maybe they are protesting the fact that over half of children their age live at or below the poverty level, and instead of getting to stay after school to play a game, they leave for work.
 
Maybe they protest that while Nike, UnderArmor and Riddell adorn their prepubescent bodies, kids from families who cannot afford socks will drop out of school at a rate 7 times higher than those who kneel while our nation’s anthem is played. And I’ll end with the fact that less than 30% of students to busy working afterschool jobs to feed themselves and their families than to play a game on Friday night will enroll in college. Oh, and of those that do, less than 50% will graduate.
 
Protesting an unspecified purpose is no protest at all—it’s imitation. I’ve yet to have the term “social injustice” operationalized. The only specific point of clarity is the name of a football team’s second string quarterback.
 
The ignominy of social imitation without fully understanding the implications is that only .04% of high school students who qualify will enlist in the military. Those 2 players out of a 54 person roster have already illustrated behavior non-conducive to military eligibility.
 
While I’m sure the back-up QB they pretend to understand appreciates the disregard for their yet undetermined futures, please accept that he’s fully enjoying the fruits of his one or two good seasons that netted him millions more than their relatives combined will have earned over multiple generations of living in a free nation.
 
So back to Texas high school football. Our 8 year old likes a girl from his class. A few weeks ago, I jokingly suggested he wear a tie to the game to impress her. He balked at the idea. Tonight, we pile in to drive to the stadium. It’s a chilly fall evening, so lil’ dude has his Harley Davidson jacket zipped up tight.
 
He flashes a smile and yanks down on the zipper. Yep, he’s got a tie clipped to his t-shirt. He seals up the surprise until they meet. Unfortunately, she didn’t show. Heartbroken, we return home and he sighs, “I wore this tie for nothing.”
 
I thought about it and understood it wasn’t for nothing. Although he didn’t like the look or idea of that checkered polyester tie over his school spirit t-shirt, he wore it for the right reason—respect for someone/something he cared about.
 
That’s much more than I can say for those children on their knees surrendering the honor of having the freedom to play games on Friday nights in the name of social injustices while 51% of their peers cannot afford the cost of a stadium ticket.
 
Do Good,
Scott
Chief Scott Silverii, Ph.D.

FIT@50 / Week 79 – Tough Guy, Soft Words

FIT@50 / week 79
Tough Guy, Soft Words:
This week has been a trial. Liliana Hart and I received the phone call every child dreads. My dad had suffered two strokes and a heart attack. He was in the hospital and I should head home immediately.

Problem was, we’re 8 hours away. I drove with the burden of racing life’s clock ticking against me. To tell you I didn’t keep it a bit over the posted speed limit would be to not tell you the truth.

We screeched into the hospital parking lot late that night and rushed to his bedside. Unresponsive, but alive. I’d come in under the wire, but the race to life’s end was still running.

The next day, along with my brothers and sisters, we made the decision to remove life support and entrust him to hospice. The doctor assured us he wasn’t going to wake up and if he did, it would only be incoherent glimpses.

Contrary to their best guesses, my dad woke up three times that day, and with great clarity to speak with us in short replies. It allowed us to share a precious last few moments with him.

I believe God allows mercy for both family and the dying to make peace before their passing. It was a blessing to experience those moments.

My dad was a tough, silent guy from Philly. Typical of his generation, the son of an Italian immigrant, he showed his love for family by providing more than by speaking. I can say that never once did my dad say he loved me.

It wasn’t the way in his time, but I knew he loved me. He was fiercely loyal to my mom and all 7 of us kids.

This week in his last moment of clarity, his eyes were open and he was responding to our questions and comments. Dementia had robbed him of most memories. But he was with us.

We all told him we loved him, and each hoped to hear him repeat those precious three words. But he didn’t—he was a tough, silent man, who showed love instead of expressing it. We all laughed that he was stubborn to the end.

Then one of his grandchildren asked if he wanted us to pray. He said yes.

Holding his hand, I pressed my face near his to hear that sweet, innocent one-word reply to an offer for genuine prayer—Yes.

This was the most soft-hearted word I’ve ever heard him speak. It would appropriately be his very last spoken word. I was able to lead my family in prayer, while my dad watched and listened with a gentle reassurance.

This week at his funeral, as a line of former students and football players lined up with community and family friends, a gentleman offered his condolences and spoke to Liliana and I about how much he enjoyed the way we share our lives on Facebook. Then his words struck me as he leaned in closer.

“I can’t believe such soft words come from a rough, tough police chief.”

This good guy could’ve never know how significant his words were. Unbeknownst to him, he had just delivered God’s message. It was a message that I needed to hear.

I’ve always delighted in looking like my dad, taking after him in so many characteristics and mannerisms. I’m happy to emulate his love for family and wife, but always wanted to make sure I was more vocal with the way I felt.

I understand the value of listening instead of speaking, but I’ve also tried hard to speak when appropriate with words that have meaning.

Like my dad’s final “Yes” to prayer, I think I’ve also become a tough guy, with soft words.

Do Good,
Scott
Chief Scott Silverii, Ph.D.

FIT@50 / week 76

FIT@50 / week 76
Not There:

I’m prompting Max to prep for bed. While it takes a little longer, he eventually gets there. I finally warned him with a stern wag of my finger to wrap up the tub time. I came back in his bathroom after sorting his school clothes and he had a head of hair slathered with Old Spice body wash.

I grunted, “No. Not there.”

He proudly continued to rub it over his head. It never registered with him that what he was using was body wash and not shampoo.

“See.” He proudly held a bright yellow hand towel up and ran it through his hair to rinse it. “I wash.”

I dropped to my knees next to the tub in half prayer / half guilt for over reacting to the infamous Old Spice mix up. The thing was, it wasn’t a mix up, and it wasn’t a big deal. It was Max doing his best on his own to scrub up for another day at school. He was not only proud of his accomplishment, but also boasted a savory scent of grandfatherly masculinity.

After he was tucked in and off to sleep, I joined Liliana Hart in the living room to catch up on writing. I began to think about what I said to him, “Not there.” With my one year anniversary of my retirement as Chief of Police, I mused over that comment.

What if I’d listened to that same comment at times in my life? Admittedly, there were occasions that I should’ve known and heeded the warning, but we’ll save those for another less-public forum. I’m talking about people in your path, that for the sake of conformity or custom, tried to divert your direction in life.

What if I listened to the “voice of reason” when I wanted to enroll in graduate school in my forties after having been away from college for twenty years. What if I listened to the “friends” who thought I should’ve stayed in my position before becoming Chief of Police because it was safe and protected. What if I listened to a room full of “detractors” laughing at my first attempt to publish a book, and not because of the content, but that I’d dedicated it to my best friend who had always encouraged me during graduate school although he’d dropped out in eighth grade.

Finally, what if I listened to myself when God said it was time to retire. He didn’t mince words. It was clear, but I rationalized by looking at retirement and saying,
‘Not there,” for almost a year. What if He’d listened to me and said, “Okay, you’re on your own.”

While there are wonderful people offering wise counsel, do yourself a favor and weigh what they have to offer by what is right, what is important and what is yours. Even if the person you should ignore is you.

Being FIT@50 means I get to sit here in peace without the world’s problems being my problems, and Max gets to go to class with magnificent smelling hair.

Do Good,
Scott
Chief Scott Silverii, Ph.D.

Sergeant Joe Boxer Wants You

FAST Beta Cover

Sergeant Joe Boxer Wants You:
 
Are you a thriller fan? Willing to give honest opinions to help make this novel a great read? Sign up for your Free beta ebook. Only obligations are filling out a short survey, AND keeping the work confidential.
The TEAM:
I’ve got an amazing pre-published team of readers. I’m opening the Team for a few more Beta Readers. You get a first read at my in progress novel – FAST: A Joe Boxer Thriller.
Special Access:
Also, as a member of the team, you have first access to each book in the series – just click and BAM, you’re covering down over Sergeant Joe Boxer’s 6 as he defends America.
JUST THE FACTS:
Former United States Army Green Beret, Joe Boxer, is part of a little known specialized tactical unit in the DEA. This American hero not only lost his leg in Middle Eastern combat, but also his partner at the hands of a corrupt puppet regime placed in power by soiled American interests. Boxer is now forced to lead the fight against domestic terrorism in a war he never imagined he’d fight on US soil.
This blue-collar American veteran wants vindication for his friend’s murder. Joe Boxer struggles with an amputee’s challenge, but doesn’t succumb to it as he battles his way onto DEA’s elite FAST Team 5 in hopes of returning to the Middle East for exacting revenge. Boxer is challenged to overcome PTSD’s horror of combat, the addiction of pain management medications post-op, and learning that he’s still very much the man he was prior to the roadside bomb that claimed his leg.

Thank You To The Lafourche Parish Sheriff For Their Generosity

I’m proud to say that I served with the Lafourche Parish Sheriff’s Office for 21 years before taking the Chief of Police position in Thibodaux.  What a wonderfully generous act of kindness shown to the Dallas Police Department.

We are so grateful to the citizens of Lafourche Parish in Louisiana and their Sheriff’s Office for raising more than $50,000, which was donated to the Assist The Officer Foundation and the Dallas F…

Source: Thank You To The Lafourche Parish Sheriff For Their Generosity

Understanding Police: My PhD Research

Understanding Police Cover

Understanding Police: My PhD Research


I’m still in shock over the North Miami Police shooting of Charles Kinsey. I keep waiting for a plausible explanation before I make any comment on this. It’s hard, very hard to just remain silent.
 
So many folks want to understand the world of law enforcement, but will never gain an objective perspective. My research conducted for my PhD has been published twice – once as a textbook titled, Cop Culture: Why Good Cops Go Bad, and the other as A Darker Shade of Blue.
 
While the rights belong to my publisher, the research is all mine. I published this edition of my multi-year study on the organization and culture of cops to help you gain a factual view on the profession.
 
I tried cutting out the boring details about research methods and validity along with the qualitative methodology explanations – this will give you answers in a “PC Free” explanation.
 
I’d give it away, but Kindle requires 0.99 –>>1-Click