Review for Mask of the Betrayer

Mask of the Betrayer has been reviewed by The Examiner! I am beyond thrilled with the reviewer's words. Here they are:

Review - Mask of the Betrayer - Dark Mystery, Brutal Content

June 15, 11:37 AM

eBooks Examiner
Ginger Simpson

Mask of the Betrayer - Sharon Ann Donovan

Beneath all the bright lights, glitter, and glamour of Las Vegas beats the heart
of a sociopath.

In most novels you have to wait until the end for the “whodunit,” but in Mask of
the Betrayer, you know who from the beginning, but must keep reading to learn
why he’s killing off all his family members, and how someone is going to finally stop him.

Michael Deveccio is a billionaire who wants for nothing. He has it all, or so it seems.

Raised by Uncle Carlos who fell victim to the very method of killing he taught his
nephew, Michael is the sole heir to the Deveccio Dynasty. All he needs is the perfect wife to bear a son to carry on the kingdom.

Poor Margot Montgomery has no idea the type of man she’s fallen for and marries.
Their castle-like home is filled with all the demented memorabilia that proves Uncle Carlos’ warped mind, but Michael seems to cherish everything about his uncle. His devotion to family only deepens her respect for her new hubby.

Michael worships the ground Margot walks on, at least in the beginning, and having a family tops his list of immediate desires. Margot is pressed to have a son.
A daughter wouldn't be good enough to head the family business; he must have a male heir. She has a career of her own and isn't in a hurry to become a mother, but Michael's insistence that she'll never want for anything carries some merit.

Margot has moments when she doubts her husband’s motives and suspects him of foul play, but his charm assuages her fear. Too bad, there’s a death star in his pocket with her name on it, along with the signature mask he leaves on all his victims.

Mask of the Betrayer is filled with so many twists, turns and surprises, you’ll be
hooked from the first chapter. An amazing cast of characters lend to the tension and suspense, and even if you read with an editorial eye, you probably won’t mind that the POV shifts from one paragraph to another in places.

Supposedly, only NY-rated writers could pull this off, but Ms. Donovan proves that
rumor to be a fallacy. If forced to nitpick, one might find Michael’s “tapping of his cigarette three times” to become rather redundant along with a few places where you’ll find repeated information, but the pace of the story moves so quickly, you‘ll just absorb it again and keep reading.

Trust that you won’t be disappointed with Ms. Donovan’s captive and descriptive
style. Be warned, this story is not for the squeamish. If you don’t like violence and mayhem, this isn’t for you, but if it fits the bill for you....dig in.

You can find this book for sale at Whimsical Publications

You can find out more about this awesome author on her website

Sharon Donovan
Romantic Suspense with a Twist of Faith
www.sharonadonovan.com
sharonad@comcast.net

The Sparrow's 'Wing'

By:

Carisa J. Burrows

The enormous spotlights that illuminated the tranquil Live Oak Gardens and its one thousand over-sized sculptures shut down acre by rolling acre. The waning crescent moon and the starry night sky bathed the grounds in a soft, glistening ashen hue. The smell of honeysuckle, sweet peonies, and gardenia infused the high humidity of the breeze that lifted off the ocean a mile away.

“Are they gone yet?” His eyes glanced left to right and back again.

“I think so.” Only the corner of her well carved alabaster lips moved. “Ah…chew! Ah…chew!” She bent forward clenching her nose or mouth.

“Bless you my dear.” He said still standing motionless.

“Oh, this darn rhododendron always makes me sneeze.” She furiously brushed away the thick branch, tipped with a round puff of pink blossoms, from her nose.

“I think the coast is clear.” He jumped down from his chiseled soapstone plinth. “Let me help you, my love.” He extended his right hand toward her, still clutching his anvil in his left and helped her down from her scallop shell.

“Hermes, it’s time! Wake up!” Hephaestus yelled across the immaculately manicured lawn.

Hermes woke suddenly as the sprinkler system engaged and sprayed a chilled mist on his patina. He made a loud screeching sound when he moved his bronze silhouette.

“Geez, Hephaestus you don’t have to yell. I know what time it is. They have me practically welded to a sundial for goodness sake.”

“The sun isn’t shining, genius,” said Hephaestus in cynical tone.

“Oh, yeah,” Hermes chuckled and turned to Aphrodite. “Mmm…mmm…mmm, girl you’re lookin’ good tonight.”

She would have blushed if she could.

“Watch it, Hermes,” he snarled. His face nearly cracked as he distorted it in anger. “That’s my wife you’re talking too.”

“What did you expect marrying the goddess of love and beauty? You should have married Medusa then no one would ever be looking at your wife.” Hermes smirked then spoke again. “She would have turned you to stone if you ever made her mad though.”

“We’re already stone, Einstein,” he said facetiously.

Hermes stretched his arms and shook out his legs like a sprinter getting ready for a 25K race.

“Well, time for a long night of work. See you at the wing, beautiful.” He winked at Aphrodite then turned to Hephaestus, “Later sucker!” He soared out of sight leaving only a golden beam of flaming bronze and the outline of his winged sandals lingering behind him in the darkness.

“The wing, what wing?” She asked. He deliberately didn’t answer her.

“Gosh, I hate that guy. He’s always ogling you and flirting.”

“Oh honey, don’t let him get to you. He has a hard job waking everyone with the swish of his cheesy, little magic wand. This park has over 7,000 acres,” Aphrodite said gently petting the tiny marble dove perched on her shoulder.

“He is a messenger god, that’s his job. He was built for speed and still he complains,” remarked Hephaestus.

“Let’s go to Myrtle Grove. You know it’s my favorite place,” she said.

“We will, I promise, but first we have somewhere to be. After you my dear,” he bowed and waved his hand in a romantic gesture.

They walked hand in exquisitely sculpted hand for several minutes.

“Where are we going?” Aphrodite asked. “I haven’t been to this part of the grounds before.”

“They are still working on it.”

Flowers and small plants were splayed along the edge of the red brick walkway. Freshly dug holes showed their future resting places. As they rounded the tall trees of The Myrtle Grove, Hephaestus lifted the bright orange fence closing in the newly constructed area.

“What is this place?” She asked.

Suddenly, her eyes stared in amazement as fuchsia, azure, emerald and violet lights shimmered up into the atmosphere. The source of the radiance was coming from the pink granite statue of Hyperion, Titan god of light. He was standing in a large circular pond surrounded by every statuette that inhabited the gardens.

“It’s a new installation,” Hephaestus said pulling Aphrodite closer to the crowd.

“Glad to see you made it,” said the goddess Isis as she turned and approached Aphrodite handing her a luscious bouquet of white lilies.

“Ouch! Watch where you’re going with those wings Isis. I almost dropped it,” grumbled Atlas.

“Don’t mind him,” whispered Isis. “He’s just grumpy because he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. I’d be grumpy to if I had to carry a three ton sphere on my back everyday.”

“Wine here, get your wine here!” Dionysus yelled as he poured the jade Ganesh a goblet from the infinite supply of his decanter. “It helps to be the god of wine. I make a fortune at these events.”

“Honey,” Hephaestus turned to Aphrodite. “Welcome to our new home, The Sparrow’s Wing!” The crowd cheered. She stared closer at the pond. Two gilded golden platforms were flanked by thirty-four glimmering Kordofanian sparrows and eight winged cherubim each spouting water from the center of the pond.

“That one looks like its peeing!” Hermes yelled from somewhere in the crowd.

The night sky was slowly turning lighter now. A ram’s horn blew in the distance. It was the signal that the first employees of the day had entered the front gate.

“Go everyone, now!” Hyperion announced in a deep piercing voice. “Get back to your stations.” Everyone scattered back to their nooks hidden in the maze of the gardens.

Hephaestus and Aphrodite climbed onto their newly built plinths and then froze back to solid stone just as the first landscape gardeners entered the area.

“Glad you guys moved these sculptures yesterday on my day off. They have to be two thousand pounds each,” said the gardener.

“We didn’t. The crane isn’t scheduled until tomorrow.”

WAW tonight!

Don't forget our meeting tonight! 6:30 - 9:00, with a stop at Magoo's afterwards for some conversation and refreshment.

Tonight we'll be talking about dialogue and writing for newspapers.

Guest Speaker at BVRS fundraiser auction

IT’S PARTY TIME AT BVRS!

Meet Pitt Football Coach Dave Wannstedt, pictured left, and tour the Pitt/Steelers Practice Facility at BVRS’ For Your Eyes Only 2010 Tailgate Party on the Southside from 7-10 p.m. Friday, June 11.

Enjoy a delicious buffet dinner, cocktails, and dance the night away to live music by the classic rock and roll band “Truth Be Told.” Reservations are required. Tickets are $75, with $35 of that amount tax deductable. For additional information, contact Blind & Vision Rehabilitation Services of Pittsburgh’s Development Department at 412-368-4400 or email inquiries to: dwoodfill@gphvis.org.

With Coach Wannstedt serving as auctioneer, you’ll have the chance to bid on autographed sports items, Pitt Panther Football Box Seats, a catered dinner in your home by celebrity Chef Bob Malone, a weekend at Seven Springs Mountain Resort and more.

And that's not all!

Pittsburgh author Sharon Donovan, pictured below, will be the guest speaker. At the tender age of 6, Ms. Donovan was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes and told by her doctor that she would be blind by the age of 25.

Those words haunted the Avalon resident all of her life and when the doctor’s prediction came true, Ms. Donovan came to BVRS where she learned how to manage her life independently with blindness.

Ms. Donovan has told her story in her nonfiction book, “Echoes of a Raven.” Once an artist who painted on canvas, Ms. Donovan is now an author of several books of fiction.

On her website, http://www.sharonadonovan.com/, Ms. Donovan talks about her transformation in a poem titled ‘Yesterday.’

It says, in part: “From the maze of mayhem and rubble a new dream resurrected renewing hope and inspiration for a brighter tomorrow. Today, motivated by new insight, instead of painting pictures on canvas, I paint my pictures with words.”

Ms. Donovan’s most recent work, “Mask of the Betrayer,” is a psychological thriller and is available at this link: http://www.whimsicalpublications.com/sharon_donovan/mask_of_the_betrayer.html

Rosemary McLaughin, one of our long-time members has an article in the Post Gazette Forum section June 6, 2010.

Go Rosemary!