Fat Joe Pleads Guilty for Tax Evasion

Joseph Cartagena AKA Fat Joe, has plead guilty to not paying taxes on about $3M dollars of income between 2007 and 2008 for performances and music royalties. The 42 year old "Lean Back" rapper pleaded guilty on the charges and is facing up to 2 years in federal prison.

Jeffrey Lichtman, Cartagena's lawyer, said Cartagena had been taking steps to rectify the situation before his arrest.  He also said the rapper plans to pay back the taxes by the time of his sentencting in April.

The judge set bail at $250, 000. Cartagena could face up to two years in prison along with fines up to $200,000 plus IRS penaties.

He is currently out on bail awaiting sentence in April 2013.

[Grown and Sexy] Liz Newman

Liz Newman holds an MA in Clinical Psychology, and a BA in Mass Communications with a concentration in Broadcast Journalism. Liz Newman worked as an intern at KTVU Broadcasting Station in Oakland, California.  Liz has also worked as a crisis counselor, a community health counselor, and a staff psychologist at a local elementary school.  Liz also contributes anonymously to several texts published to assist children and teens struggling with social and domestic issues. 

Several articles by Liz Newman have been featured in magazines and journals such as San Francisco Socialite, Spirit Song, Highlights, and The Sacramento News and Review, Chic Mom Magazine, Under A Harvest Moon, and Our USA Magazine.   

Several novels and novellas by Liz Newman have been contracted for publication by Breathless Press, Secret Cravings Publishing, Lycaon Press, Devine Destinies, an imprint of Xstasy Books, and Gypsy Shadow Publishing.  Her first novel, An Affinity for Shadows, made the Top 10 for Best Print/Electronic Romance Novel of 2011 in the Preditors and Editors Readers Poll.

LINKS

www.lizrnewman.net
http://www.lizrnewman.net/tales-from-la-novelista.html#/

EXCERPT

 “What’s happening?” I asked in disbelief even though I already knew from the message. I turned away from the sink. My arms were covered with dish soap.
    “The worst thing that could possibly happen. Hurry!” he commanded.
    The phone jingled on a side table. I sprinted towards it and picked up the receiver. My father’s footfalls sounded behind me. “We need to go down,” he said as he tugged my arm.
    “I saw the news,” Peter said over the phone. “No matter what, you stay safe, and stay there until I can find you. I’ll come for you. I promise—”
    My father yanked the phone out of my hand. “She’ll be fine, Peter. You take care of yourself and your mother.”

    “Please, Mr. Giles, if I can just—” Peter said before my father slammed the phone down.
    “Now, Inari,” my father growled as he shoved me towards the basement door. I ran down the stairs and heard the door slam and lock shut behind my father as he followed me.
   
    My father had served as a sergeant in the military, and he had the foresight to stock the bunker with several years’ worth of supplies. He rushed me into the eight by twelve foot bunker he had built in the basement. He threw sandbags over the doorway until they were stacked high enough to cover every crack between the door and sill.
    We huddled near a small glowing pillar candle placed upon the lone table and two chairs that were the only furniture in the fallout room besides two tiny bunk beds built into the wall. “We’re safe in here,” he said in a reassuring tone, even as his voice shook. “Even if a twenty megaton nuke strikes Manhattan, most of the radiation will dissipate into the environment in about eight days. Windsor is pretty far from the epicenter, so the greatest threat will be in the next three months or so. If no more bombs hit within a hundred mile radius, we could come out then if we absolutely had to. But we don’t have to. We have enough in here to survive for months.” He reached up to a high shelf and brought down a large bottle of pills. “Iodine,” he said as he held two white capsules out to me. “These will protect you from the radiation that will come in with the air. I’ve got some air purifiers, too. They’re battery powered, so we’ll keep them running” He handed me a jug of water, and I gulped the pills down. He popped two pills in his mouth and swallowed them, leaning down to switch on battery powered vented machines that hummed and blew out oxygen.

    My gaze darted around at the iron furnace in the corner of the room, surrounded by logs piled up several feet high. Wooden shelves were stacked with Sterno cans, dried grains, boxes of matches, first aid supplies, canned foods and plastic bags. “How will we go to the bathroom?” I asked.

    My father pointed to two large stainless steel waste cans with flip top lids. “Those are lined with bags. We’ll have to go in there and in a couple of days I’ll head upstairs and toss them out the front door.” I grimaced. “Maybe the bomb won’t hit. Maybe the United States can knock the missiles off course. Anything can happen, Inari.” My father’s hands curled around mine. “Let’s just pray for the best.”.

    The pit of my stomach twisted and gnarled as we tuned a tiny radio to 1080 AM. The strange woman’s voice ominously detailed the approach of the bomb and the ineffective defense missiles fired in response by the United States. “The counter defense attempts have failed. The bomb will detonate in midtown Manhattan in five minutes. Four minutes and fifty seconds until detonation. Four minutes and thirty seconds until detonation.” The countdown went on and on until I wanted to smash the radio into tiny bits with a hammer.

Merry Christmas!

It's the end of 2012 and the world didn't end! YAY for miracles!

Seriously, from the Chat 'Bout family to yours - we would like to wish you all a very happy and SAFE holiday season. Please remember what we've been trying to teach us all for what feels like the moment of my birth and that is "if you drink do NOT drive" there are other safer ways of getting home like a taxi, public transit, a friend, sleep over, walk etc. Please be safe on the rode and patient as in this weather everyone is still out and going about their lives. Stop to show some kindness to a stranger if you can and hug your family a little tighter this season. With that said, we are hoping to see you all again on 2013!

Hugs,

Kadian Tracey - Chat 'Bout Creator

Gang Rape in India

It seems almost unthinkable for something like this to happen. A 23 year old woman was captured, beaten, gang raped for almost an hour then tossed from a moving bus in New Delhi, India. Prime Minister Manmohan Singh move? To ban gathering of more than 5 people at any time. In a country where most rape go unpreported or unpresecuted, the number of outraged citizen grows. Protestors, mostly college students and housewives, poured into the city's center by the thousands demanding better policing and more security for women.

Though police tried keeping the protestors back by using tear gas and batons, they were heard screaming "Down with Delhi police!" while hurling bottles and other objects.  Others hollered "Down with Sonia Gandhi!" Sonia Gandhi is chief of the ruling Congress party.

Since the rape, officials has promised more and better policing, from more buses at nights to swift prosecutions of those accused of rape and more severe punishment for those found guilty.  Still, protestors' numbers grew to several thousand shows they do not believe in these promises.

The victim is still in the hospital in critical condition.

[Grown and Sexy] Erin Sinclair

My name is Erin Sinclair. I write for Devine Destinies, a division of eXtasy Books. You can find me all around the web as Erin Sinclair Writer or Erin Sinclair Author. Allow me tell you a bit about myself. One of my many goals in life is to engage you, the reader, to take you to my worlds, drop you off, let you have fun in my playground, then bring you home. Tomorrow we’ll do it again! I have published 5 stories to date with Devine Destinies. They are my Fallen Angel trilogy consisting of Twilight’s Son, The Betrothed, and Garden of Eden (currently a work in progress); Cupid’s Folly (part of my Big Fat Greek Tall Tales series); Witch One? and The Wishing Tree.

As for me specifically, well, I’m a daughter, sister, friend, wife, and mother.  As each role ebbs and flows in my life, the one that remains consistent is that of a writer.  I’ve created stories since I was young girl, but never felt my voice worthy of written expression until I felt I had enough life experience and courage to venture into the challenging adventure known as an author’s life.  In my opinion, storytelling is the original art form. My life-long dream has been to weave worlds, visit the fantastic and pursue the impossible through the wonderful magic of words.  When all else fails a well-crafted story soothes me, lifts me, and takes me away from the mundane to the unlimited potential of the imagination.  Care to join me?

EXCERPT

An intensity of light forced Brie awake. Her head throbbed. It tended to happen when the whiskey flowed free, the toasting robust. She pulled a pillow over her to block out the enemy.

“Uh-uh, love.” Usually, Shade’s lightly accented baritone was enough to send instant desire through her. Right now, she wanted to slap duct tape over his mouth.

She tried to recall where she put her service weapon. “I’m armed.”

“Not at the moment,” he leaned over, bit down on her exposed outer thigh.

Brie gasped and pushed forward, smacking her head into her upholstered headboard. Somehow, the bump didn’t have the same erotic effect on her as it did last night. Collapsing, she groaned.

“You have to get up,” Shade admonished.

“I don’t recall saying anything about having to…,” her voice trailed away. The pounding increased and had the nerve to travel throughout her body.

“You promised Sam you’d be there by noon.”

Tactical training day. She groaned again. He’s gonna kick my ass.

“I think I said it was voluntary.” Brie sat up. If she balanced the pillow on her face and head just right, it muffled her hearing and prevented the evil sun’s rays from stabbing her in the eyes.

Her lover removed it. “Much better,” he smiled and kissed her nose.

Brie’s eyes watered and she blinked her way into consciousness. An attempt to stand was easy enough, until her brain rapped on her skull. Walking in a circle seemed to help as long she didn’t think. Shade’s warm hands guided her into the limestone-tiled shower where hot, steamy water beckoned to her. Before she entered, he gave her a handful of pills and a vile looking concoction in a crystal tumbler.

“What are these?” Brie shook her hand, tossing three large pills, each a different color, in her palm.

“B-12 among other vitamins. A green smoothie. Don’t worry about the taste. It doesn’t last long.”

Although she had been a smoker, Brie hadn’t taken a drag from a cigarette in over a year. Therefore, her sense of smell was acute. She caught the scent of fresh mown lawn. Perplexed, she sniffed again. Her senses didn’t lie, it smelled like cut grass after a rain. Shade may have discovered the power of green, she, however, wasn’t a fan. When the liquid hay hit her tongue, combined with the gulp of vitamins, she knew what a horse’s breakfast tasted like.

Brie groaned. Swallowing hard, she forced the mix past her natural inclination to heave it into the toilet. Rinsing her mouth once the pills and smoothie were safely in her stomach, she gasped. “You could have provided me with a chaser.”

Shade laughed as Brie joined him in the shower. He dunked her under the large

showerhead and soaped the length of her platinum hair. “Like what?”

“Bacon, pancakes, maple syrup, orange juice…” Brie sputtered.

She groaned in pleasure as he cleansed her scalp, finding the pressure points to force her muscles to relax. “I will give you ten minutes to stop that.”

“It’s eleven…if I make you late Sam will have no problem taking it out on me.”

Laughing, she turned to wash Shade. “You sound a little scared.”

“I don’t think he’s forgotten the night I showed up at the safe house.”

Cocking an eyebrow, she pursed her lips. “Yeah, good point. He’s just forgiven me. Still though, he likes you.”

“Must be my innate charm,” he smiled as they both rinsed, shut do“You promised Sam you’d be there by noon.”

Tactical training day. She groaned again. He’s gonna kick my ass.

“I think I said it was voluntary.” Brie sat up. If she balanced the pillow on her face and head just right, it muffled her hearing and prevented the evil sun’s rays from stabbing her in the eyes.

Her lover removed it. “Much better,” he smiled and kissed her nose.

Brie’s eyes watered and she blinked her way into consciousness. An attempt to stand was easy enough, until her brain rapped on her skull. Walking in a circle seemed to help as long she didn’t think. Shade’s warm hands guided her into the limestone-tiled shower where hot, steamy water beckoned to her. Before she entered, he gave her a handful of pills and a vile looking concoction in a crystal tumbler.

“What are these?” Brie shook her hand, tossing three large pills, each a different color, in her palm.

“B-12 among other vitamins. A green smoothie. Don’t worry about the taste. It doesn’t last long.”

Although she had been a smoker, Brie hadn’t taken a drag from a cigarette in over a year. Therefore, her sense of smell was acute. She caught the scent of fresh mown lawn. Perplexed, she sniffed again. Her senses didn’t lie, it smelled like cut grass after a rain. Shade may have discovered the power of green, she, however, wasn’t a fan. When the liquid hay hit her tongue, combined with the gulp of vitamins, she knew what a horse’s breakfast tasted like.

Brie groaned. Swallowing hard, she forced the mix past her natural inclination to heave it into the toilet. Rinsing her mouth once the pills and smoothie were safely in her stomach, she gasped. “You could have provided me with a chaser.”

Shade laughed as Brie joined him in the shower. He dunked her under the large wn the water and towel dried one another.

Brie stepped out of the bathroom and rummaged through a drawer. Retrieving her cell phone, she called Sam and advised him she was running late.

“You’ll make it up on the course, Rook, believe me.”

It wasn’t what he said as much as the maniacal laughter she heard before she disconnected the call that worried her. When her father put her through a routine, she had a basic idea of what to expect. Different animal altogether when she trained with other officers under the auspices of Sergeant, Sam Wells. She never knew what would happen. Then again, a cop had to prepare for any potential, so she braced herself for the day ahead.

The couple dressed and left the house within the hour. Shade headed to work and Brie to the obstacle course. By the time she arrived, the ten officers she would join were dressed and

[Grown and Sexy] Cynthianna

Cindy grew up watching Star Trek and Dark Shadows and reading classic sci-fi novels. Her articles and essays have appeared in over forty publications. She works as a freelance manuscript evaluator, book reviewer and copy editor. Her writer's guide, The Curse of the Manuscript Eating Slushpile Monster, was a finalist in the self-help/non-fiction category of the 2009 EPIC awards and is now available in print under the title, Defeating the Slushpile Monster. 
 
Writing as Cynthianna, Cindy has published science fiction and fantasy romantic-comedies. Her novel, Loving Who, is about an enthusiastic group of Doctor Who fans trying to make a fan film. Cindy also writes sf/paranormal erotic-romance as Celine Chatillon. 

Links 

http://www.cynthianna.com

http://momsday.blogspot.com

EXCERPT

Can a single mom find happiness on a blind date--or at least dinner with a male who can cut up his own food? Cassie and Mike believe they're "in like" not "in love." But when down-on-his-luck Mike is evicted, Cassie takes him into her home. Mike starts fixing everything from window screens to little boys' broken hearts. Will Cassie let him fix hers?

Excerpt: Mike helps Cassie deal with her frustrations concerning her ex by teaching her how to throw darts.

He smells of paint and newsprint—and male. Cassie closed her eyes. She could feel the overpowering warmth and strength of Mike’s muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt as she stood entranced next to him. What if she turned around this instant and pulled him into her arms instead?

Her sluggish mind was wandering she realized. She blinked and shook her head to clear the cobwebs.

“Oh—kay. I’m ready.”

“Then let ‘er rip.”

The dart hit the imprint of Mike’s pinkie.

He grinned. “Not bad. Now give Jack a stab right in the heart. Aim for the middle.”

Cassie screwed both eyes shut and sent the dart flying with a passionate fling. A loud thump broke the silence.

“Oh, no—can I open my eyes now? Did I break something?” she asked timidly.

Mike let out a long whistle. “Look what you did.”

She cautiously opened one eye. The dart had hit dead center.

“Yippee!” Cassie jumped up and down. She gave Mike an impulsive bear hug, almost knocking the breath out of him. “Let’s do it again!”

Mike’s gaze fixed on her mouth. “Yes, let’s do—”

[Grown and Sexy] Valerie J. Long

I was born in Germany in the sixties of the last century. I am working as an IT Project Manager for an international company, and I live in Wiesbaden. I’ve chosen a pen name for two reasons. First I know my real name is too difficult to pronounce for most of the world. Second—as an IT person I know about the dangers of too much internet exposure. As a writer, I need a lot of exposure, and the pen name will retain a little privacy for me.

I read a lot. My bookshelves are overloaded with surely more than 2’000 books, mostly fantasy and science fiction. Among my favorites are J. R. R. Tolkien, Robert Heinlein, Alan Dean Foster and David Weber, only to mention a few. You bet I’ve grown up with Captain Kirk and Luke Skywalker, but I’ve also digested “Barbarella” and “Logan’s run”…

I am a fan of Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez. I like Alien, Sin City or Kill Bill, but I also enjoy watching Notting Hill.

I also travel a lot. If you read my stories and think—oops, she must know that place well—maybe you’re right, I’ve been there before.

My site: http://zoe-lionheart.net/
My blog: http://www.zoe-lionheart.net/zoeblog

EXCERPT

My mission was busted. I could have caused carnage, and perhaps I could have fought my way out, but that way, I’d have ultimately discarded the chance to find out anything here. No, I had no other choice but to give up. So I spread my open hands to the sides and very slowly turned around with an apologetic smile.

Facing me, still on the other side of the kitchen table, I saw a grim looking man in elaborately decorated leather clothes with a sword belt around his hips. Scanty hair and wrinkled face gave witness to his age, but his body was strong and his stance straight. His appearance and voice were confident and used to command. This had to be the Prince.

“Prince Lichyi?”

He insinuated a nod. “And who do I have the honor to meet?”

“Arne. You wanted to talk to me?”

“Later.” On his sign, two armed guards followed through the kitchen door and pushed their way past him, came around the table, and took me in their midst. Without resistance, I let them disarm me.
“Search him,” the Prince ordered.

He remained silent while his men diligently executed their task. Mentally, I prepared myself for what inevitably had to follow. Indeed, soon one of them felt my female shape. “Your Highness—it’s a girl!”

“What?” the addressed called out. “Down with the leather!”

Again I didn’t fight when they relieved me of the robust clothes—doublet, boots and pants—that hid my shape. Without a specific command they also removed the woolen underwear, and I was standing naked among them. All three grinned.

“Lock her up in the stable,” the Prince ordered. “Until tonight she’s yours.”

Ouch. His men’s even wider grin didn’t promise any good. Obviously, he just had given them carte blanche to rape me.

They dragged me—naked as I was—over to the stable and pushed me into an empty horse box, where they threw me down on my back. One held me, the other first tied my hands over my head and then to a column. Then he fetched two more rough ropes and tied one each around my ankles. I wasn’t surprised when he attached both ropes to opposite columns, thus forcing my legs into a wide split.
I don’t need to describe what followed next. At least I was lucky that the Prince wanted to have me for himself in the evening, so both did without hurting me more than necessary. I wasn’t spared from their beating, though.

In between, they left me for a while to fetch something to eat and drink. I didn’t get anything, and when they returned, they tied me face-down over a cross beam to then abuse me from behind.

No, this was not a particularly nice day for me. Nevertheless, I registered the group with Joakim arriving, their horses being brought to the stable, the end of the firefighting, and the people returning to their work. I remained silent to not give my presence away—that would only have caused more of the Prince’s men to seek their pleasure at my cost. This way, my pain was limited to the stamina of the two guards to whom I had been assigned.

[Serious Chat 'Bout] Chiefs and their Grief

The reason I placed this article under my "Serious Chat 'Bout" section is, I have so many thoughts running rampant through my mind about it.  For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about when I write "Chiefs and their Grief" it is this.

A few days ago, Kansas City Chiefs Linebacker Jovan Belcher (allegedly) shot his girlfriend (the mother of his child) numerous times before driving to the stadium and committed suicide in front of two of the Chiefs' staff members.  I was at work when I read the article and sat there staring at the computer screen with my jaw hitting the floor. I'm not sure if I was just shocked or disappointed or both.   Then I saw he was 25 years old. This man was only 25 years old and already he had enough angst to think life was over and not only that his life was over that the 22 year old woman who chose to have his child--that her life was over as well all because of a dumb argument.

An argument that could not have been that detimental or that important. A person's life is worth more than any disagreements you could have with anyone. I'm not sure how someone could wake up one day, one regular day, a day just like any other day and just because of one thing, snaps and commit two acts that are so unforgiveable.

What I wonder is this: did he think of his child before he did any of this?

If he did, he would know his child would now have to live with a basic stranger--sure it would be family but the child is not used to living with this person. Knowing smoeone and living with them are two different things. And how will (s)he be treated? How will she feel when (s)he grows up and have to deal with horrid students who makes fun of him/her because her father killed his/her mother then himself. How is child going to be mentally while growing up? This is a stresser even if the child didn't witness this or too young to remember this.

And what about the coaches who witness him shooting himself? They have to pick up and go, be strong for their players, what kind of mental issues is that going to cause?

How could he (allegedly) do all of this?

And his team--these men are going to act big and tough but what happens to them now? 

There are so many things that goes through one's mind when things like this happens. How does one move on after this? Everyone keep saying they deal and move on...but how?