The Most Exciting Time of My Life

This is by far, the most exciting (and scary) time of my life. I’ve been hinting about this for awhile but I’m going to take a risk, just like I did about 5 years ago when I began the business helping other authors. I’m making preparations to be truly a full-time author. This means that if you email me, you’re likely going to get a notice from my assistant that I’m on hiatus working on my latest novel which I’m super excited about.

It could be weeks before you hear back from me, which is unusual for me.  As most people know, I make it a personal duty to respond to emails and Facebook messages usually within 24-48 hours.

This means after this month of fulfilling my obligations, I’m going to do less and less interviews with people so that I can focus on this novel.  I still have a small handful of private clients I’ll work with and that I’m totally passionate about but I will not be taking on any new clients, no matter how big or how much money they offer me.

For the last almost 5 years or so I’ve spent a career helping new authors take the first step in landing agent, self-publish and market their books, as well as working with high-profile people on their campaigns and have done so very successfully. But I’m finding that the more time I spent helping other authors, the less time I spent doing my first love, which is writing.  That is why we decided it was best that I pull the plug on Gatekeepers Post completely. Rather than redesign it, I felt it was best to just move forward. The time and energy it took running a site with over 500 bloggers quickly ate up my own writing time. But I’m proud of our achievements. I’m proud of having some of the biggest names in the industry blog and be on the editorial board.

This also means, although I love it, I’ll be doing less and less interviews and articles.  Oh, sure I’ll finish my obligations for this month of April 2012 that I promised but after that you’ll only see a handful of interviews from me from time to time so that I can focus on writing this novel.

I will be making available a number of new eBooks for aspiring writers in the “For Writers” section of my website and will blog on there from time to time about the industry or about tips and most likely my eBooks will be 100% free or next to nothing, like 99 cents to get.  For now, they’ll only be available here on my site and not on Amazon or until later but know that you are welcome to download them, send them to your friends and of course, use what you learn in the books as you wish.

It’s scary for me, taking this risk to write full-time as every major change is. My first dream was to be able to quit my day job and work on what I was passionate about and I accomplished that about 5 years ago. Now, my next dream is to make a transition into being a full-time author.

So, although it may seem that I have disappeared a bit from the public scene and from the book publishing industry for awhile, know that I’m nose-to-the-ground writing in my cave. But nevertheless, don’t worry, once I emerge, I’ll come out with something I’m proud of and that will make a splash.

We are just at the brink of the tremendous changes for authors and those in the book publishing industry. The industry will look nothing like it does now in a few years and I cannot wait to embrace it.

Make Your Signature Work For You


o-THE-SUN-ALSO-RISES-BOOK-COVER-TSHIRT-570What’s so magical and effortless about this particular technique? You don’t need to push your book. By writing the right signature,

 every time you post, you’ll be advertising your book automatically.

In fact, you shouldn’t talk about your book at all — EVER. Not unless they ask you about it, you don’t need to. Your job is just to create and maintain relationships. To chitchat with them about whatever they are interested in; let your signature do all the work.

It’s like wearing a t-shirt for your business and just walking around town. If it’s an interesting enough t-shirt, not just a logo, people are going to ask you about it and open up dialogue, which is what you want.And without having to shove your business down their throat, just walking around town doing your errands, enjoying the weather, people are building awareness of your business.They’re coming up to you. Notice, you can’t just put a logo on your t-shirt, it has to be something that will raise a question or conversation.The same thing goes for your signature. We’ll talk more about this later, but for now, you must create your signature.



Gatekeepers Post on Redesign Hiatus

The Gatekeepers Post is on hiatus while we redesign the site. In the meantime, enjoy you my blog where you will find in the coming months, interviews, articles and postings on the ever-changing book publishing landscape and how the world’s of independent publishing and traditional publishing are colliding and collaborating.

Get with the Times!



bestselling author Jeff RiveraIt amazes me on my 35th birthday as I think back to what I’ve learned and accomplished and want to accomplish in my life and as I strip back everything to its core, to see what I really want, I realize now more than ever it’s easier to achieve what I want.


At the core, strip away from the celebrity interviews I do, the powerful people I know in entertainment, publishing, media and business and at the core, all I want to do is just write my damn books for my fans to enjoy. Now, with eReaders, all I have to do it write it, upload it on Kindle, Nook or Smashwords and in hours its available for my fans to purchase.


Marketing, I can do that myself.  Been doing it for years. In fact, one of my clients, we just helped him sell an addition 5000 eBooks in the last few months on Kindle alone. And that was a book that was sitting around since 2007.


I don’t need a publisher or an agent unless I want to sell foreign or film rights and that’s scary for a lot of people.  For one, forget about the indie bookstore owners whose employees have lost their jobs, the publishing companies whose houses have downsized, the literary agents who have transitioned into coaches or completely shuttered their doors. For those people, many of whom are my friends, my heart goes out to them as we all transition into this new marketplace.  But for the authors, who no longer need the validation of “the powers that be” to tell them they’re good enough, it’s a very empowering time in history.


And it goes beyond just authors, what about musicians who can record their records in their closet upload them on TuneCore for less than $50 and have it distributed across iTunes and a gazillion other platforms? What about budding filmmakers and TV producers who can just use their prosumer cameras to upload their webseries on Youtube or Netflix and instantly compete head to head with the Big Boys?  It all comes down to content because marketing doesn’t require the big billboards people ignore any more, nor the banner ads we’ve trained ourselves to not see.  Marketing is all social media marketing now, which is 100% free and many Fortune 500 companies haven’t a clue how to use effectively yet. Not. A. Clue.


So now, content creation is next to nothing, marketing is next to nothing. There are no excuses not to succeed.


Want your movie in theaters?  Won’t be long before they’ll have a Youtube-like service to upload your film and select which theater across the country you want it to display at for a flat fee will pop up.  Want your songs on the radio?  (Why bother? Internet radio is easy to get on) but I’m sure for a fee, they’ll have the same for broadcast radio and the same for cable or network television. You can already buy airtime via infomercials.


My point is, the barrier to entry is so much easier for people and yes, there’s a lot of shit to go through to get through to the good stuff but who cares?  There’s a lot of shit to get through now with the “powers that be”. Over 1000 channels and I still can’t find anything good on to watch.  That’s why we need more curators/gatekeepers but the definition of a gatekeeper has evolved to include bloggers, and reviewers and other leaders.


The last barrier is your own. It’s a mental barrier wondering if you’re a “real artist” if the Mommy/Daddy figure of agents, editors, publishers, producers, managers, directors, no longer required.  Do I mean those mentioned are no longer necessary?  They still have an important role in the new system, should they choose to evolve.  Not surprisingly, the very forward thinking pioneers many of whom who have decades of experience have evolved with the times.  They have either removed their former labels or expanded what their labels meant and those are the individuals that will survive. The others, I only pray for them because they are a dying yet important breed.


We can fight the system and say it’s not going to rain but umbrella or not, raincoat or not we’re getting soaked. When it rains it pours and you better like the rain cause even Noah couldn’t have built an ark big enough for this flood coming.



How I Met my Soulmate by Jeff Rivera



I’m hosting a contest for the “best soulmate connection story” with a $100 prize. I want people to know that true love does exist.  For the rules, click here.

I can tell you I had already given up completely on ever finding someone.  I was bruised, scratched and scarred by more attempts at love than I cared to count.  Living alone in a stale beach apartment, so hot even the mosquitoes refused to go in it. The apartment was so quiet and bare, I was left alone with my thoughts, staring at the wall, trying to keep busy so I wouldn’t have to dwell on the years of broken promises and heartbreak.

My last attempt at “true love” had left me kicked out of my own apartment with 30 minutes to pack. My ex was gracious enough to tell me unceremoniously after I came home with surprise flowers for him.

We’d had a rocky relationship before, my ex and I, but I’ve always been long-term relationship-oriented type of guy (a serial monogomous as my friend David Shankbone called me) and I was willing to ride it out.

Sure, maybe my ex wasn’t exactly the best fit.  I knew that deep inside but it was better than nothing, I thought to myself.  I’d see other couples that were truly happy and wondered if one day I’d have it or if I’d just have to settle.  My ex and I did try working things out before. We even went to a gay church once. It was all in Spanish and I didn’t understand a thing. Some nice-looking guys though.

There was this one guy that totally knocked my socks off in particular. I think I lost my breath when I saw him. He was gorgeous, tall, athletic-looking, beautiful, olive complected, charming, confident just breath-taking.  He was spiritual, a leader in the congregation, everything I could have asked for, except that I wasn’t available and he didn’t seem all that interested in me anyway. My God, why can’t I have someone like that? I thought to myself.

Nevermind, I sighed, I’ll just settle for what God gave me. Better than nothing. That was my first mistake because about one month or so later, my ex kicked me out of my own apartment with 30 minutes to pack, literally.

I checked into a hotel in San Jose and decided to get online.  I needed to get my mind off things and met this guy. He was nice-looking, a jock, and seemed sweet. He kept asking me if I had a boyfriend and I told him no (didn’t want to tell him “as of last night.”)

The jock said he was going to call me in 10 minutes when he got home.  What do you know? He did. That impressed me. It’s so important to me that I be a man of my word and the people I surround myself with be that way too. I hate flakes.  But I really wasn’t in the mindset for anything more than friendship. I was about to move permanately out of San Jose to the beach where I could clear my mind and get away from the horrible breakup.

I didn’t want to get hurt any more and after one more attempt of trying for love with someone I really liked at the beach failed before it began, I completely gave up. I cried that day hysterically. What was wrong with me?  Why couldn’t I find anyone?  Clearly it wasn’t in the cards. But the cute jock kept pursuing me though, texting me constantly, and I thought, “How cute,” but I didn’t take him seriously, my heart was too broken from the last failed attempt at love.

I say I had all but given up, but in truth, I knew deep inside, there had to be someone out there for me. I wasn’t a bad guy. I told God, what had I done so bad not to find someone? There had to be someone out there who would treat me right, be honest with me, and for heaven sake, treat me half as good as I had treated previous attempts for a partner. I needed someone, quite frankly, who  could make me believe good guys still existed and well, dramatic as it may sound, heal me.  I was broken.

Even though it was clearly not in the cards to ever meet someone, I knew that person had to exist (with 6 billion people on earth, for Pete’s sake, it was statistically impossible for him not to exist in my mind).  So, even though I’d never meet him, I decided to get up every morning and thank God for him, because I knew somewhere in the world, he existed.

Somewhere in the world was someone who was compassionate and was a true gift to the world, someone who was spiritual, who was charming and who gave as much as I gave and treated everyone like gold and even though God made it clear, I thought, that I’d never have him, I was thankful that someone in the world would have him even if it wasn’t me.  That’s what I would do, honest to God, every morning. Cause I had just resolved to the fact, that being single was better than being dead and I still could be a father, one day like I always had wanted to, it’s just that I’d be a single father. That’s when it happened.

I had been working out all summer long trying to get the body of my dreams because quite frankly, I envisioned one day running into my ex and I wanted his jaw to drop and wish he’d never dumped me. And I was looking good, starving myself to do it, but it was working and I wanted to get some photos done.  I found a fantastic photographer in San Jose, Costa Rica. So, I checked into a hotel (the same one I had to check into when I got kicked out of my own apartment) and I figured I’d call up a couple of guys I’d been chatting with online. If I was going to be in town, I might as well have some fun going to a movie, or bowling or something.

The only one I could get a hold of was that jock. He sounded so excited to hear from me but said he couldn’t do anything that night cause he was at church. I sighed, another lonely night but then he invited me to come to the church if I wanted to, in his broken English. I told him I didn’t feel like going to church but then I thought about it, why not surprise him? So, I did.

I had forgotten how completely gorgeous the jock was.  He was so excited to see me as if I were a long lost friend, hugged me and kissed me in front of everyone. I was a little taken aback and although they were speaking in nothing but Spanish at the church and he barely spoke English, he was really sweet trying his best to “translate” which only made it more difficult for me to understand but the attempt was sweet.

Anyway, I was distracted. Where was that really cute guy that I had seen there before, the one I thought that I wished was my boyfriend? That’s when the jock said to me, “Hey, you came here before with your ex-boyfriend?” I said, “Yeah, how did you-?”

And that’s when I got chills. I realized, as if a veil was lifted off of me, the man I had dreamed of, the one that I had said to myself I wish he were my boyfriend, the one I thought looked like the man of my dreams was standing right in front of me. It was the same man I’d seen before at the church. It was the jock, Geovanny.

Then I knew, there was such thing as soul mates. Then I knew God had been listening to my prayers and he didn’t want me to be lonely. Then I knew there was someone for me in the world, someone for each and everyone of us. Then I knew true love did exist, just like the story books.


Jeff Rivera is the author of many love stories including FOREVER MY LADY (Grand Central Publishing) and the forthcoming graphic novel FOREVER MY BABY (Blue Water Prods).


I’m hosting a contest for the “best soulmate connection story” with a $100 prize. I want people to know that true love does exist.  For the rules, click here.

an Excerpt from Forever My Lady: A Novel by Jeff Rivera


To read more go to:


Dio looked at his homie Spooky’s grip on his jacket.

Most of his boys called Dio “Playboy” because all the ladies

loved him, but those who had known him since he was a

kid called him by his real name, Dio.

He took another hit off his joint. He’d given up smoking

over a year ago, had to, but on this day he was more nervous

than he had ever been in his life.

Thunder rumbled and rain poured, making it impossible

to see. Thunder scared Dio, always had. Dio fought to

keep from shaking. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow.

He tried to hide his fear. His mind was set. He had to do it.

Dio yanked his arm away from Spooky and pushed the

door open.

“Just keep the car runnin’, ése.”

Spooky was a big guy, tattoos up and down his arm and a

glass eye. He normally would have just kept Dio from leaving

at all, but he knew nothing could stop him. Nothing at all.




Dio jumped out of the car. It was a ’57 Chevy, complete

with chrome wheels, slick red, with a chili-pepper-hot Mexican

jaina painted across the hood. Dio had painted that

picture himself. It was dope.

He slammed the door shut and looked up at the cathedral

in front of him. Lightning illuminated its majestic towers,

windows with an eerie stained glass. He’d spent many a

night imagining this would be where he’d marry her. They’d

have a huge wedding with members of their families fl ying

in from all over the world just to watch this event, this marriage

he thought was so destined to be. He’d put his everything

into this dream, his one and only dream, and now as

he yanked the heavy oak doors open, his heart pounded like

a subwoofer.

He dried his soaked clothes with his hand and scratched

his shoes on the mat so as not to squeak across the old wood

fl oor. The church was jam-packed, mostly with Mexicans and

Puerto Ricans, but some blacks.

Probably his familia, Dio thought. How could she even think

about marrying some pinche negro?

The grand organ music permeated the building while a

choir of children sang, their voices echoing throughout the

church. It smelled musty in the air, a mix of wood stain and

must as if they had never really cleaned the place, just painted

over it.

He tried not to look too suspicious, slipping past everyone.

Funny, he was dressed probably better than he’d ever

been. Black suit, his wavy black hair slicked back, starched

white shirt, polished black shoes.




Dio had grown into a very nice-looking young man.

Maybe he could have even been a model, had he played his

cards right. Maybe if he hadn’t grown up in the slums of

Northeast Vegas, he could have been one of those Latin

heartthrobs who were in those magazines. Instead, most of

the time he looked like the thug most people assumed he

was just by looking at him.

But on this day, this very weird day, he was even wearing

a tie. Jennifer would have been so proud of him if she could

see him. Funny, he’d probably be the last thing she’d see.

He checked his jacket pocket to make sure it was still

there. Yep, it felt like a brick pressed against his chest. But he

was so numb, or more like so focused, that he was oblivious

to it. All he knew was that he had to fi nd Jennifer, and he

would use any means necessary.

Wham! Dio bumped hard into a glass table. His thigh

throbbed in pain as bullets dropped from his pocket and

bounced off the wood fl oor. The sound echoed all over the

lobby. People looked around for the source of the sound, but

Dio managed to scoop them up before anyone could see.

He got up and noticed the beautiful ice sculpture on the

table—melting, dripping like an ice-cream cone in August.

Melting just like his heart.

He saw Father Martínez, his priest, the one he’d grown

up with. It was as if the whole world had turned against

him. They’d sided with Jennifer, when this was supposed to

be their wedding. It was as if she’d slapped him across the

face, as if nothing they’d been through together even mattered.

The whole thing was surreal.




She loved him. She’d said that over and over to him since

they were little kids. She’d taken care of him and believed in

him and dreamed with him and held him when nobody else

had cared.

“Estoy aquí para ti. No matter what—siempre,” they’d

promised each other. And a promise was a promise.

“Don’t be stupid, foo’. Don’t be a pendejo.” Spooky’s

scolding remarks kept playing in his head. He warned Dio to

just let it go. It wasn’t worth it. Normally Spooky would have

been all for it, but this time around he said, “Olvídalo . . . let

it go.” It was as if he sensed something was going to go

wrong and, no matter how high Spooky had been, his gut

was always right.

Dio only hoped this time around he was wrong. He had

worked so hard. He could really get a fresh new start now, “a

new lease on life,” as his probation offi cer used to say, but

now he was risking it all to confront Jennifer.

Was Spooky right? Should he just let it go, face it that

she didn’t want to be with him no matter how hard and bad

it felt? Should he just forget the whole thing? Maybe he’d

meet some other ruca. Time heals all wounds, they say, and

maybe if he’d just—but no. Dio shoved those thoughts out

of his mind.

He’d spent the last year changing his life around for

her, so they could be together, so he would be the man she

said she’d always wanted, so he could be the daddy his

daughter needed. They were meant to be together and he

was going to make Jennifer understand that, if it was the

last thing he did.




He could see Jennifer’s family in the front, dressed in

their Sunday best. Her mom always made a spectacle of herself

with her gigantic summer hat in purple. She never did

like Dio and he knew she had probably orchestrated this

whole thing, probably arranged the whole wedding herself.

He wondered if perhaps Jennifer was doing this just to

make her mom happy, but then he saw her . . . the music

changed, the children’s choir sounded so beautiful, he had to

admit, so irritatingly perfect. All heads turned and everyone

gasped as the bride, Jennifer, made her way down the aisle.

Her father took her arm, biting his lip, trying not to cry.

He looks nervous, Dio thought.

Jennifer looked incredible. How could she afford a dress

like that? The guy must be rich or something. That’s probably

what it was. That’s probably why she was marrying him. It had to

be the money. The one thing Dio could never give her.

Her gown had a lace top, cut just low enough to show her

sensual bustline, but high enough to showcase the fi rst-class

act that she was. Her face was shielded by her veil. He hadn’t

seen her in so long. It seemed like the whole congregation

held its breath with him.

Her mom made a dramatic spectacle of herself. Her

wails were the only thing that could be heard above the organ

playing as the children’s choir reached a crescendo, then

trailed off. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Even Dio had

to fi ght the tears.

Thunder rumbled. Her father escorted her over to her

groom. He was a nice-looking man, a light-skinned black

man. Maybe he was mulatto or something. He wore a striped,


stuffed tie, not a traditional bow tie, and the tux must have

been Armani or something. He had one of those smiles with

teeth so white it blinded you. His gaze never left Jennifer,

even as the priest rambled on and on with the vows.

“I, Antonio Estrella—”

What kind of nombre was that? Estrella? Jennifer Estrella.

It just didn’t match her. No le queda.

“. . . hereby take you as my wife, to have and to hold . . .”

There was a lump in the back of Dio’s throat. He wanted

to burst out, “No!” It hurt so much.

“I, Jennifer Lalita Sánchez . . .”

He couldn’t believe his ears; she was promising him her

life. Thunder rumbled and the lights went out. There was a

small gasp in the audience, but Jennifer just smiled, the

candles illuminating her. She was too lost in the groom’s


“. . . to have and to hold, through sickness and health . . .”

she continued.

He couldn’t help it anymore. Tears came streaming from

Dio’s eyes. This was too much for him. He was about to explode.

His blood boiled.

He looked around at all the stained-glass Bible stories,

the creepy statue of Jesus on the cross. He swore Jesus was

glaring right at him as if he were saying, “No lo hagas . . .

don’t do it.” He looked the other way, but the statue of the

Virgin Mary scolded him as well.

Dio couldn’t help but think how proud his own mother

had been with how he’d changed his life around, the tears of

joy she’d shed. He’d never seen her like that before. He


shuddered to think how his mother would feel after all this

went down, how ashamed she’d be. Maybe it would drive

her to drinking again. Drinking again, after how far she’d

come around.

“With the power invested in me by the state of Nevada,

I hereby declare you . . . man and wife.”

Dio couldn’t breathe. The only thing that kept him from

passing out was seeing Jennifer’s face as her new husband

lifted the veil. She was more beautiful than ever. She had

olive-colored skin and was the type of girl who never did

need any makeup. In fact, she hated wearing it. But this time

she was wearing just enough. Her dark brown hair was

curled; glitter sparkled in it. She looked like an angel, no, a

goddess, better than the pictures Dio drew of her, better

than he’d remembered her looking in his dreams.

He’d never seen Jennifer so happy. Not even when she

was with him. She had always seemed so distracted, but now

she really did look like she was in love.

How could that be possible?

He loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone. Didn’t

she see that? How could she do this to him? The ice sculpture

melted like it was on fi re.

His heart raced as he reached for the .45 caliber in his

pocket, which Dio called his cohete. He could hear the rain

pounding against the stained-glass windows and the roof.

His sweaty hands pulled for it, his heart in his throat. He

crossed himself, closed his eyes, and prayed he was about to

do the right thing.  To read more go to:




Discrimination Case Makes History in Costa Rica!


We have to thank each and everyone of you who took the time to send emails to the government of Costa Rica. For those of you who said that your “friends and family would not come to Costa Rica until this case was solved fairly”, for the television series that refused to shoot any more episodes in Costa Rica until this case was resolved, we say, “thank you.” To the nearly 300 Ticos that picketed in front of Multicolor Bingo Casino to say, “No more!” we say, “thank you”.  For those big name people in corporations, entertainment and book publishing industries who risked your reputations and careers to write letters to say “Enough is enough” to the Costa Rican courts, we say, “thank you”.

And for those of you who we asked for help, who chose not to “get involved” who call yourselves friends and family and were too busy to take 30-seconds out of your time to send one email, many of whom we have bent over backwards to help in the past without ever asking for anything in return, I have a few words for you too: “God bless you.”

It is because of this, we have seen who our true friends and family are and to thousands of strangers who never knew us before this, who came out of nowhere to support us,  this victory is not for us, it has nothing to do with us. It’s for those Costa Ricans who didn’t have the resources, or support of thousands of friends around the world, or those who felt they didn’t have a voice or were too afraid of the possible repercussions of standing up, that this case was won for. For this reason, any financial reward we receive from the casino for damages will be donated to charity, 100% of it, every single penny.

Thank you once again, we truly couldn’t have done this without you.  And finally, last but not least, to my baby, I love you. Te amo, mi principe.




Discover New Author – Laura Lanfield

million miles away from the sophisticated undercover detective who gets on an airplane and flies to some well known city or god for saken place to earn a good living. At the other end of the line, no one ever sees my sweet smiling grandmotherly face, because most of the time I have had an expensive facial and good make-up job and hairstyle before I leave my other life behind. The cover of my first book shows my gun in the cookie jar. That cookie jar isn’t for the kids.

Q: What does your family think about this?
A: That is an interesting question especially since now I am writing books about my strange encounters of different kinds. Confuses them a bit, since I do try to keep my secret life secret. Now that I am writing books about my adventures, my photographer takes precautions to make sure that nobody will recognize me as the everyday person. Not an easy job, and I think he is just about the best photographer in the world for having accomplished this. My family loves the idea that at my age I am still able to continue the work that I have been doing for so long. Only once several years ago, did one of my children request, after the birth of one of my grandchildren, that I try not to do as many dangerous jobs as I was doing, I agreed. Cut down the income a bit, but I am still out there breathing and the kids are breathing a sigh of relief. Don’t think for a minute that I’d ever give up living on the edge. I just moved a little closer to the center.
Q: Do you ever worry about your life or theirs?
A: Jeff, do you worry about your life? I could just as easily slip and fall in the supermarket and brake my neck, as I could get hit by another car while I was flying along the Autobahn in a big black Mercedes at 110 miles per hour. I don’t worry about my children’s lives, certainly not because of anything that I would or could do to put them in jeopardy.
Q: What is a normal day like for you?
A: After a good hot cup of coffee I open my computer and see what interesting opportunities have presented themselves overnight. If anything interesting has come along job-wise I respond immediately, if not, I try to get in an hours writing either on my newest book or an article, then I think about going shopping which is always a wonderful thing to do.
Q: Is it just like the movies?
A: Well it is not the story of Mary Poppins neither is it Harry Potter but probably closer to Harry Potter without some of the unusual cast. Most people that hire me are quite serious about their need for investigation and detective work. Usually no frivolity is involved. Although I sometimes get a serious call from a serious kook who thinks their family is trying to murder them. But then you just never know so I’ll do a little preliminary investigation and nine times out of ten the kook is just that. But there is always that one time and sometimes it turns into a damn good case.
Q: Why have you decided to independently publish?
A: Good question, Jeff and you know the answer to it too, since we have shared experiences with literary agents who promise the world and don’t even have time to respond to our five principles. Been there, done that. However, my mind and heart are always open for the next guy or gal who falls in love with my work and promises to turn me into the next Margaret Mitchell, the brilliant writer of Gone with the Wind.
Q: What are your goals for the book?
A: Of course, like all authors I would like to see “BAIL BONDS BABYLON ,” which is in it’s third printing, as a television series or movie. Who wouldn’t. That’s one of the reasons I am writing a sequel with the strange working title of “BAIL BONDS BABYLON TWO.” Meanwhile, I have completed “SOUTH BEACH LADY P. I. ” and I am preparing to market it. Unless something wonderful happens, I will self publish this book as well. I have two great websites and my fan base is building. The first websites is and
Q: Where can people purchase your book?
A: They can either get it from or directly from the either of the above mentioned websites. Try it, Bail Bonds Babylon by Laura Lanfield it’s a real life adventure.