Tag Archives: FICTION

A New Life Virtual Book Tour

 

A New Life front cover

 

Reflections of Michael Trilogy Book 4

 

Fiction

 

Date Published: ‎June 9, 2025

 

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From America to the streets of Paris, A New Life follows two friends as
they navigate grief, love, and self-discovery in a city filled with history
and hope. A New Life is a story that lingers long after the last page.

 

A New Life back cover

 

A New Life tablet

EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

Walden Pond, a mirror-like surface which reflected the magnificent beauty of trees, birds, and of course the dragonfly who carried the souls of the dead to rest.

Red leaves fell in the background like a fire engulfing all the trees surrounding the pond. The vibrant colors told that fall had arrived.

A flock of ducks paddled in an aimless direction, geese flew with rapid speed, and left the frogs behind, who sang their sounds of joy. In the crystal clearness of the pond, the fish smoothly moved through the water. The serenity, the sanctuary, filled an onlooker with peace.

Two travelers stood close to the edge of the pond; they resembled Casper Friedrich’s painting “Two Men Contemplating the Rising Moon.”

Further along the shoreline, an older man sat on a huge log and lit his pipe as he basked in the dim light of the harvest moon. He must have been a bird watcher. At least three different binoculars hung around his neck.

A few steps away was a mother who spoke rapidly in Spanish with her three children, who ate sandwiches, sipped juice, and looked at the radiant harvest moon.

Suddenly, the two travelers looked panicked; they then began to dig a very deep hole. They took off their jackets and wrapped a large unknown object in them.

Were they placing a time capsule that held stories of special moments in their lives in the ground? One traveler moved towards the hole, holding the wrapped object.

“Louie, watch it. You might damage her head,” Ron said nervously.

“I’m sorry, Rhonda,” said Louie, choking back tears.

They lowered the wrapped object, the body of their beloved dog Rhonda into the makeshift grave. In the dim light, there was a sense of privacy in that moment.

Louie placed wildflowers on top of the body, and they prayed. Slowly, they poured dirt to fill the grave. Both men patted the dirt, making the ground smooth. They could not help but cry as they walked back to the car.

Ron started the car as quietly as possible, but the roar of the engine cut through the silence abruptly. He took a deep breath and tried to forget that he would need to leave his best friend behind. It was easier to pretend that she was still with them. They drove away and waved goodbye as their car passed her grave.

Two hours passed without a word between Louie and Ron. Finally, very faintly, Louie heard Ron say “Ra,” then “Ma.”

Louie asked, “Our Mantra? Can I say it with you?”

Ron nodded as he pulled off the road. He asked Louie to hold hands with him as they both chanted, “Ra.”

Then Ron said, “The sun.”

They went ahead with the interchange of the chant, and then Ron said its meaning.

“Ma,” said Ron, “Moon. Daa, the earth. Saa, your infinity, your personal infinity. Say, all of infinity. So, the merging of the individual’s infinity and all the rest of infinity.”

Louie than ended the chant with “Hung.”

Ron said, “The infinite and the vibrations in us, we are the Thou.”

Ron urged Louie to chant one more time. Louie led them in another chant. They finished and sat quietly for a moment. Louie had this sudden calmness about him.

“Louie, Aristotle said a good death is one where you have family and friends around you. Rhonda had a good death. Let’s try to heal, and you heal through grief. But first, open your window; let Rhonda go. As she goes through the open window, her soul is free.”

Louie opened his window, and they felt the cool breeze from outside. He told Ron, “She left.” Louie felt content a moment later.

They continue their journey back to New York, Ron pointed out to Louie the cafe where he danced for well over an hour with the hostess and the server. “Want me to stop? We can do it again?”

“No, I passed that stage in my life journey, Ron.”

They spent the rest of the trip talking about Rhonda and how great she was, from the fight where she tried to protect Ron to the National Cemetery where she was left behind by accident at dusk, not found until midnight.

Louie and Ron had a chuckle over how Rhonda refused to walk on the sidewalks in Paris because of all the cigarette butts on the ground; she had to be pushed around in a baby carriage, because she did not want to burn her paws.

Louie started crying, and Ron comforted him, assuring him that the pain was fine; he needed to accept it.

“Rhonda was so smart,” Louie said proudly. “Some people don’t know the relationship between an owner and their pet. It is so special, so unconditional. Rhonda will always be a part of me. It was nice to bury her here in America, her home country.”

A while later, Ron and Louie arrived at their motel. Ron said to him, “Let’s get the luggage and go to bed. Hey, I was thinking when we get back to Paris, you should move in me with me and stop sleeping in the bookstore.”

Louie could not believe what he heard. Sharing more time with Ron would be special; he was excited to have that time together.

Once they got to the room, Louie asked Ron if he could sleep with him. Ron answered, “Only if you watch that left arm of yours and where it’s moving. And that goes also if you live with me, okay?” Ron laughed.

Louie responded in an offended tone, “Ron, that happens when my arm falls asleep, and I stretch it!”

Louie could not keep a serious face in his exhaustion, and they both laughed it off and went to bed.

They went ahead with the interchange of the chant, and then Ron said its meaning.

“Ma,” said Ron, “Moon. Daa, the earth. Saa, your infinity, your personal infinity. Say, all of infinity. So, the merging of the individual’s infinity and all the rest of infinity.”

Louie than ended the chant with “Hung.”

Ron said, “The infinite and the vibrations in us, we are the Thou.”

Ron urged Louie to chant one more time. Louie led them in another chant. They finished and sat quietly for a moment. Louie had this sudden calmness about him.

“Louie, Aristotle said a good death is one where you have family and friends around you. Rhonda had a good death. Let’s try to heal, and you heal through grief. But first, open your window; let Rhonda go. As she goes through the open window, her soul is free.”

Louie opened his window, and they felt the cool breeze from outside. He told Ron, “She left.” Louie felt content a moment later.

They continue their journey back to New York, Ron pointed out to Louie the cafe where he danced for well over an hour with the hostess and the server. “Want me to stop? We can do it again?”

“No, I passed that stage in my life journey, Ron.”

They spent the rest of the trip talking about Rhonda and how great she was, from the fight where she tried to protect Ron to the National Cemetery where she was left behind by accident at dusk, not found until midnight.

Louie and Ron had a chuckle over how Rhonda refused to walk on the sidewalks in Paris because of all the cigarette butts on the ground; she had to be pushed around in a baby carriage, because she did not want to burn her paws.

Louie started crying, and Ron comforted him, assuring him that the pain was fine; he needed to accept it.

“Rhonda was so smart,” Louie said proudly. “Some people don’t know the relationship between an owner and their pet. It is so special, so unconditional. Rhonda will always be a part of me. It was nice to bury her here in America, her home country.”

A while later, Ron and Louie arrived at their motel. Ron said to him, “Let’s get the luggage and go to bed. Hey, I was thinking when we get back to Paris, you should move in me with me and stop sleeping in the bookstore.”

Louie could not believe what he heard. Sharing more time with Ron would be special; he was excited to have that time together.

Once they got to the room, Louie asked Ron if he could sleep with him. Ron answered, “Only if you watch that left arm of yours and where it’s moving. And that goes also if you live with me, okay?” Ron laughed.

Louie responded in an offended tone, “Ron, that happens when my arm falls asleep, and I stretch it!”

Louie could not keep a serious face in his exhaustion, and they both laughed it off and went to bed.

 

About the Author

Louis J. Ambrosio
Louis J. Ambrosio ran one of the most nurturing bi-coastal talent
agencies in Los Angeles and New York. He started his career as a theatrical
producer, running two major regional theaters for eight seasons. Ambrosio
taught at 7 Universities. Ambrosio also distinguished himself as an
award-winning film producer and novelist over the course of his impressive
career.
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Dangerous Times Virtual Book Tour

Dangerous Times banner

 

Dangerous Times cover

 

Fiction

Date Published: May 1, 2025

Publisher: Manhattan Book Group

 

good reads button

 

This book’s background is the prophetic but overlooked decade of American
history, 1846 to 1856, from the Mexican War to the presidential election of
James Buchanan. The decade was a foreshadowing of our national cataclysm.
Underlying every social aspect was the nation’s fatal flaw, slavery, that
perverted the Constitution on which the Enlightenment ideals of a
“United States” were based. And on every day, similarities to the
distortions of the present decade are obvious.

I chose a Southern ethos, finding an unexpected woman to suffer and survive
the decade; and three brothers, each of whom carves a unique path through
it, one as a fugitive unjustly accused of murder and slave-stealing, one as
an enigmatic operative across the jagged spectrum of antebellum party
politics, and the eldest who inherits his family’s storied tobacco
plantation as its lands burn out.

The story is told chronologically, the fiction adhering to the history.
Should a question arise as to which is which, any event of historical
significance – no matter how bizarre or implausible — did indeed
happen.

The novel echoes ethnic truths as they were at the time. I write of
intimacies as well as horrors found in historical records. Both public and
private relations were often infused with their own destruction — as were
the expanding “United States” in that decade, and I fear in this
one.

Dangerous Times tablet

EXCERPT

READING INTRO/Dangerous Times

DANGEROUS TIMES is a novel of historical fiction! It tells of the years 1846 to 1851 in the 30 states that made up our nation. It’s an overlooked time, called “antebellum” or “before the war,” our Civil War which justifiably gets most of the attention from scholars, historians, literary writers, critics, — and inevitably: film studios. 

It was a hell … of a war.

  But my interest was: how and why it happened, because when I started work on this book, the United States was beginning a long progress of crises. They were leading to where we are now: the threatened loss of our political, legal, and societal institutions, and our standing in the world, among other disasters. In wondering how far these crises are going to go, I became increasingly curious about what had happened in mid-Nineteenth Century America that had driven the nation to the self-destructive extreme of civil war.     

As a result, my research started with diving into the fractious years during which the “United” States began its slide toward that violent division. I start the book with a popular-turned-bitter foreign war, followed by the inexorable fraying of politics, economy, and culture. 

Sound familiar? In 1846, it was a war with Mexico; now it’s Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan – take your pick. Time and time again, behaviors, convictions, decisions, and passions of those antebellum years are the alarm-bell-tollings that are reverberating today. Therefore, to me – and I hope to you as you’re sitting there – these antebellum times are suddenly of vital interest!

You may well ask: If those years are so important, why be distracted by some fiction of it, by stories that push the real history into the background? As a reader, why not just get the facts?

I’m so glad you asked! Full disclosure: I’m not an historian or a scholar. And any number of agents and publishers will tell you: I ain’t literary. I’m a storyteller. As to which is best for the telling, fact or fiction? It’s an endless debate, one that I always win with myself because “fact” seems to me to be a restricted perspective. To me, when chronicling events, the footnote-bound, meticulous scholar has to overlook a lot of the heart-beating, breathing, emotive, sensate life of any whole historical moment. And what in the world does the historian do about: imagination? 

 The great historical fiction writer Andrea Barrett suggests that “…research creates the bones of the story, and imagination provides the breath and the blood.” As a storyteller, I’ll go with that any day!    

Toni Morrison – who wrote some pretty astonishing historical fiction – has a fine riff on this: “The crucial distinction is not the difference between fact and fiction, but the distinction between fact and truth. Because facts can exist without human intelligence, but truth cannot.” 

I’m one who believes that telling a fictional story allows a fuller truth to be revealed than by pure history. Don’t get me wrong: to write each one of the six books I’ve published, I read history voraciously. But that’s only the beginning. 

 And with me, the process releases “The Big Surprise”! When I read enough history, characters start coming off the pages and are simply there. I cannot suppress them – not that I’d want to! When I begin to tell the story, I don’t always know what they’ll do, where they’ll go. Certainly, as we go along, history leads us; but by allowing imagination to have its way with us, I have to hope that history will tolerate, within its dogged boundaries of time, endless possibility.

Let me introduce you to some of the characters in DANGEROUS TIMES who wandered, charged or leapt off those pages of history. There’s a young woman, Elizabeth Musten, who’s already shattered basic foundational rules and is facing a lifetime of punishment; and the three Fairfield brothers, each of whom will splinter many more conventions as their worlds sink under their feet. There’s a freedman, Daniel, whose father owned his mother; and a slave, Jubile, who barely escapes having his big toes cut-off so he can’t run away again. Be assured that they and others struggle through war, peace, sex, violence, romance, money, revenge, evil and good – among other thrilling enjoyments!  

     I’ll read you a scene that’s about something more — well, dangerous: Politics! It’s the spring of 1850. One of those brothers, Will Fairfield, is trained in the law but disdainful of its practice. Instead, he’s driven to become a vital wunderkind to the Whigs, the political party ascendent in Washington at the time. He’s done pretty well so far….  

        

About the Author

After a questionable academic career at Stanford (I mean, how practical is
a double major in Drama and Far Eastern Theology?), Kinsolving fled to the
Oregon Shakespeare Festival to play Richard II. He then attended The London
Academy of Music and Dramatic Art for polish. Returning to New York, he
appeared as an actor under-, off- and on Broadway, as well as a saloon
singer in foul Greenwich Village nightclubs. For creative diversion during
these years, he acted and/or directed back in Oregon, at the Stratford (CT)
Shakespeare Theater, Harvard, Dartmouth, Café La Mama, then went out
and won the Best Actor of the Year award from the San Francisco Chronicle
for performing at the Berkeley Rep.

Ineluctably transitioning to a second career, Kinsolving wrote a play with
84 speaking roles, was awarded a Ford Foundation Playwriting Grant, and had
the play produced by the Stratford Ontario Shakespeare Festival. This led to
the first of some 54 films on which he worked for every major studio (and
several distinctly minor ones) in Los Angeles, London and Rome (ask him
about Zeffirelli sometime) as screenwriter and script doctor. Suspecting
that such a life was leading to the utter corruption of his soul (not to
dare mention his body), he retreated to Carmel to write the first of five
novels (a NY Times best-seller, a couple of Literary Guild Main Selections,
he adds humbly, but only if asked).

While serving on the Board of Trustees of the California Institute of the
Arts, he regressed happily to nightclub and fundraising performances,
accompanied by the likes of Peter Duchin and Emmanuel Ax, singing at the
Algonquin Hotel’s late lamented Oak Room and for one of the late
Brooke Astor’s better birthday parties among many other less
name-dropping venues.

Last year, he directed a musical for which he wrote the book and lyrics in
the nave of San Francisco’s Grace Cathedral about Johann Sebastian
Bach and his family. Bach provided all the music, and proved to be very easy
to work with. THAT WEEK WITH THE BACHS had the best voices in the Bay Area,
including the ineffable Frederica von Stade.

He began work on the historical novel DANGEROUS TIMES between the
diversions above. He knew the history, but even so, was startled by how
constant the similarities are in that destructive time to what’s going
on in this one.

 

Contact Link

Website

 

Purchase Links

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

 

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The Belmont Virtual Book Tour

The Belmont banner

The Belmont cover

Fiction

Date Published: February 28, 2025

Publisher: MindStir Media

 

The Belmont is a tale of a young man’s struggles with a heartbreak he
cannot get past, set against the backdrop of a bacchanalia-filled weekend
centered around the 1998 Belmont Stakes horse race, which ended with a
Triple Crown bid thwarted by a photo finish. During a long
“weekend” spread out over six days and in three different states,
a weekend fueled by alcohol and sexual tension, but also filled with
reflective, heartbreaking, exhilarating, hilarious, and heartwarming
moments, Tommy Cippolini embarks on a journey of self-discovery,
experiencing just about every single human emotion along the way. In between
episodes filled with anger and frustration, anticipation, anxiety,
disappointment, sexual arousal and temptation, binge drinking, daringness
and trepidation, hilarity and debauchery, and longing and sadness, Tommy
confides in good friends, casual friends, strangers, and family members
about his feelings and past trials and tribulations.

The Belmont tablet

EXCERPT

CHAPTER 1

Wednesday, June 3, 1998.

On the road, while looking back.

Tommy Cippolini steered his 1991 Nissan Sentra toward the exit ramp off Route 684 in upstate New York and onto Route 287 West to begin the last major phase of the five-plus-hour drive from his parents’ suburban home just north of Boston to his friend Vince Piolini’s bachelor pad in northern New Jersey. Tommy had been on the road for about four hours now, having departed the Boston area just after the morning rush hour had begun to die down on this Wednesday morning of June 3, 1998.

As his compact car followed the bends along the ramp leading from 684 to 287, the opening strains of Green Day’s “Basket Case” began to blare from his car stereo.

Tommy smiled at the symbolic irony of the most upbeat song on Green Day’s Dookie record starting to play just as he’d finally made it through the longer and more difficult parts of his journey and was now heading into the homestretch. He’d started out the day listening to some “mood” music, particularly some of Pink Floyd’s later albums, including the very depressing Final Cut, because he wasn’t in the best frame of mind when he’d left home that morning. But, as he got deeper and deeper into his drive and closer to his final destination, he perked up, switched over to some Black Crowes, and then decided to pop Dookie—one of his favorite records of the ’90s—into his car’s CD player.

Vince’s place was located just off Exit 148 on the Garden State Parkway, and Tommy now had just one more highway change to make before reaching the Garden State and the last leg of his drive: driving west on Route 287, crossing the Tappan Zee Bridge, and then hooking up with the Garden State not too far beyond the other side of the bridge.

Tommy was making this trip to New Jersey to kick off the annual Belmont Stakes Weekend. Vince and his friends had been attending the Belmont Stakes Triple Crown horse race every year since at least the 1980s. In actuality, they didn’t “attend” the race so much as stake out a spot inside the gates of Belmont Park, but outside the racetrack facility itself, along with hundreds of other people with the same idea, and camp out for essentially an all-day picnic filled with massive amounts of food, alcohol, and other debauchery. It was the ultimate male-bonding experience.

For Tommy, though, this was just his second Belmont Stakes, having attended his first one just the year before, in 1997. Tommy was eight years younger than Vince and the rest of the Belmont crew, which was comprised of Vince’s old high school friends from Yonkers and his college friends from the University of Delaware, most of whom he’d known since the ’70s. He’d met Vince during his sophomore year in college at the State University of New York (SUNY) at New Paltz, when Tommy was nineteen, but Vince was already a twenty-seven-year-old grad student who’d opted to live in the dormitories on campus rather than renting an apartment or commuting like most other grad students did.

Vince was a smart, gregarious, fun guy with an extremely calm demeanor, a math-oriented mind, a meticulous nature, an almost impossible wellspring of optimism flowing from every pore of his body, and big dreams. He and Tommy became fast friends and had remained very close through all of life’s trials and tribulations.

Unsatisfied with his early post-college life, Tommy had moved to Miami in 1990, spending five-plus years there, and so he’d missed out on all the Belmont fun during his years living in South Florida.

He decided to head back to the Boston area in 1995 for numerous reasons, but the primary reason for Tommy’s return to Massachusetts was the fact that his brother and two sisters lived in different states and had their own families, so there was no one around to take care of their parents if anything should happen to them. At that point in time, both of Tommy’s parents, while retired, were in good shape and doing just fine. But he knew that situation wasn’t going to last forever.

He also had one other, major reason for leaving South Florida and heading back north: He was heartbroken, as his fiancée, Alissa—a woman he’d been seeing, admittedly off and on, for ten years—had broken up with him several months before he’d left Miami. In reality, they were “engaged to be engaged” since no ring had been purchased or placed on Alissa’s finger—yet. Still, the wedding plans were in the talking stages, and Alissa had agreed that, at least at first, the couple would make their home in South Florida since her sister also lived in the area at the time. Things came crashing down in early 1995 when Alissa’s rich parents, who’d known Tommy since 1985 and always seemed to like him a lot, decided that he wasn’t good enough for their daughter. She listened to them and ran off to start dating some guy who had a seven-figure bank account.

So, Tommy limped back home that December and tried to regroup and begin anew. It took about sixteen months for him to get his life back on reasonably solid footing. Things weren’t perfect, but Tommy felt they were good enough, at least, for him to finally attend his first Belmont with Vince and his buddies.

 

  About the Author

My name is Anthony Cocco.  I’m 59 years old and a native of
Malden, Massachusetts, but I’ve spent most of the last 21 years living
about 20 miles north of Boston. Since 1997, I’ve worked in the
financial services industry (some asset managers and some retirement
services providers), in various roles, and recently started my fifth
different job in that industry in February of 2025. Prior to that, I worked
(out of college) in the health insurance field, mainly in customer and
provider relations (three different companies in two different
states—Massachusetts and Florida).

I am the fourth (and final) child born to the late Morris and Dorothy
Cocco. I have two living (and one recently deceased) siblings, one brother
and one sister (my eldest sister passed away suddenly in July 2024 at age
72).

I have no children of my own and have never been married, but I do have
five nieces and nephews (3 of the former and 2 of the latter), two of which
are the daughters of my late sister. Since I’m the only one of our
parents’ kids to have remained living (for the most part) in
Massachusetts, the rest of my family (except for some cousins) is somewhat
spread out across the country.

I attended the State University of New York at New Paltz from 1984-88,
where I earned a (largely unused) degree in Journalism (I wanted to be a
sports broadcaster but got sidetracked when someone convinced me I needed to
be a sportswriter instead). It wasn’t long before I realized that
vocation wasn’t a good match for me, but my years at New Paltz
weren’t entirely wasted because it was during that time when I met one
of my lifelong friends, the guy who introduced me to the “Belmont
Stakes crew”—his friends from his youth and from his undergrad
college years. One of the main characters in my book is based on him, and
all of the characters that make up the entire Belmont “tribe”,
as I call it in the book, are based on his friends and other acquaintances.

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Dangerous Times Blitz

Dangerous Times banner

 

Dangerous Times cover

Fiction

Date Published: May 1, 2025

Publisher: Manhattan Book Group

 

 

This book’s background is the prophetic but overlooked decade of American
history, 1846 to 1856, from the Mexican War to the presidential election of
James Buchanan. The decade was a foreshadowing of our national cataclysm.
Underlying every social aspect was the nation’s fatal flaw, slavery, that
perverted the Constitution on which the Enlightenment ideals of a
“United States” were based. And on every day, similarities to the
distortions of the present decade are obvious.

I chose a Southern ethos, finding an unexpected woman to suffer and survive
the decade; and three brothers, each of whom carves a unique path through
it, one as a fugitive unjustly accused of murder and slave-stealing, one as
an enigmatic operative across the jagged spectrum of antebellum party
politics, and the eldest who inherits his family’s storied tobacco
plantation as its lands burn out.

The story is told chronologically, the fiction adhering to the history.
Should a question arise as to which is which, any event of historical
significance – no matter how bizarre or implausible — did indeed
happen.

The novel echoes ethnic truths as they were at the time. I write of
intimacies as well as horrors found in historical records. Both public and
private relations were often infused with their own destruction — as were
the expanding “United States” in that decade, and I fear in this
one.

 

About the Author

After a questionable academic career at Stanford (I mean, how practical is
a double major in Drama and Far Eastern Theology?), Kinsolving fled to the
Oregon Shakespeare Festival to play Richard II. He then attended The London
Academy of Music and Dramatic Art for polish. Returning to New York, he
appeared as an actor under-, off- and on Broadway, as well as a saloon
singer in foul Greenwich Village nightclubs. For creative diversion during
these years, he acted and/or directed back in Oregon, at the Stratford (CT)
Shakespeare Theater, Harvard, Dartmouth, Café La Mama, then went out
and won the Best Actor of the Year award from the San Francisco Chronicle
for performing at the Berkeley Rep.

Ineluctably transitioning to a second career, Kinsolving wrote a play with
84 speaking roles, was awarded a Ford Foundation Playwriting Grant, and had
the play produced by the Stratford Ontario Shakespeare Festival. This led to
the first of some 54 films on which he worked for every major studio (and
several distinctly minor ones) in Los Angeles, London and Rome (ask him
about Zeffirelli sometime) as screenwriter and script doctor. Suspecting
that such a life was leading to the utter corruption of his soul (not to
dare mention his body), he retreated to Carmel to write the first of five
novels (a NY Times best-seller, a couple of Literary Guild Main Selections,
he adds humbly, but only if asked).

While serving on the Board of Trustees of the California Institute of the
Arts, he regressed happily to nightclub and fundraising performances,
accompanied by the likes of Peter Duchin and Emmanuel Ax, singing at the
Algonquin Hotel’s late lamented Oak Room and for one of the late
Brooke Astor’s better birthday parties among many other less
name-dropping venues.

Last year, he directed a musical for which he wrote the book and lyrics in
the nave of San Francisco’s Grace Cathedral about Johann Sebastian
Bach and his family. Bach provided all the music, and proved to be very easy
to work with. THAT WEEK WITH THE BACHS had the best voices in the Bay Area,
including the ineffable Frederica von Stade.

He began work on the historical novel DANGEROUS TIMES between the
diversions above. He knew the history, but even so, was startled by how
constant the similarities are in that destructive time to what’s going
on in this one.

 

Contact Link

Website

 

Purchase Links

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

 

RABT Book Tours & PR

Comments Off on Dangerous Times Blitz

Filed under BOOK BLITZ

The Belmont Blitz

The Belmont banner

The Belmont cover

Fiction

Date Published: February 28, 2025

Publisher: MindStir Media

 

The Belmont is a tale of a young man’s struggles with a heartbreak he
cannot get past, set against the backdrop of a bacchanalia-filled weekend
centered around the 1998 Belmont Stakes horse race, which ended with a
Triple Crown bid thwarted by a photo finish. During a long
“weekend” spread out over six days and in three different states,
a weekend fueled by alcohol and sexual tension, but also filled with
reflective, heartbreaking, exhilarating, hilarious, and heartwarming
moments, Tommy Cippolini embarks on a journey of self-discovery,
experiencing just about every single human emotion along the way. In between
episodes filled with anger and frustration, anticipation, anxiety,
disappointment, sexual arousal and temptation, binge drinking, daringness
and trepidation, hilarity and debauchery, and longing and sadness, Tommy
confides in good friends, casual friends, strangers, and family members
about his feelings and past trials and tribulations.

About the Author

My name is Anthony Cocco.  I’m 59 years old and a native of
Malden, Massachusetts, but I’ve spent most of the last 21 years living
about 20 miles north of Boston. Since 1997, I’ve worked in the
financial services industry (some asset managers and some retirement
services providers), in various roles, and recently started my fifth
different job in that industry in February of 2025. Prior to that, I worked
(out of college) in the health insurance field, mainly in customer and
provider relations (three different companies in two different
states—Massachusetts and Florida).

I am the fourth (and final) child born to the late Morris and Dorothy
Cocco. I have two living (and one recently deceased) siblings, one brother
and one sister (my eldest sister passed away suddenly in July 2024 at age
72).

I have no children of my own and have never been married, but I do have
five nieces and nephews (3 of the former and 2 of the latter), two of which
are the daughters of my late sister. Since I’m the only one of our
parents’ kids to have remained living (for the most part) in
Massachusetts, the rest of my family (except for some cousins) is somewhat
spread out across the country.

I attended the State University of New York at New Paltz from 1984-88,
where I earned a (largely unused) degree in Journalism (I wanted to be a
sports broadcaster but got sidetracked when someone convinced me I needed to
be a sportswriter instead). It wasn’t long before I realized that
vocation wasn’t a good match for me, but my years at New Paltz
weren’t entirely wasted because it was during that time when I met one
of my lifelong friends, the guy who introduced me to the “Belmont
Stakes crew”—his friends from his youth and from his undergrad
college years. One of the main characters in my book is based on him, and
all of the characters that make up the entire Belmont “tribe”,
as I call it in the book, are based on his friends and other acquaintances.

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