Interior decorator Carla found employment with an incredibly wealthy movie theater owner. Roy was captivated by her stunning beauty and professional business sense. However, their partnership led to a marriage that plummeted Carla into the West Coast’s dark organized crime world of pornography and murder.
While redecorating the Hollywood mansion of a mob boss, Carla was taken in by his elegant wife and met other lonely wives. But that mafia involved explicit sex, child abuse and butchery. Somehow, she got caught up with their rivals who clashed swords on turf and ethnicity. To escape Roy’s control Carla could only find solace in the loving arms of another man… a cop who set his sights on her husband.
Spiraling deeper into that twisted, dangerous world, Carla’s coiled mind became entangled as she wondered if her political ally would step in. Or if another knight in shining armor would save her from insanity.
Or did Roy just dig her grave?
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I really can’t tell you too much about myself. Not that there isn’t much to tell but because I told a good deal of this in my book. (However, there’s still a whole bunch more.) Since several of the others included in this story are still alive and roaming about seeking those whom they may devour, I need to remain anonymous. They may not value my life but I still do—at least during the recent past years. I say this become the life I wrote about provoked the bipolar disorder and manic depressive illness, as well as the epilepsy, with which I batted from them on. Through the right combination of medications and NAMI (the National Association for Mental Illness) I was able to get control of this and the PTSD under some sort of control.
However, during the years that it ran rampant I self-medicated with alcohol, resulting in becoming addicted to it along with the pain pills I took to ease the pain from several broken bones. This didn’t happen all at once. No-o-o, I just had to spread that out over several years, one fall at a time, one car wreck at a time and a tumble or two down the stairs. Needless to say, I didn’t hold my liquor any too well. But after the five surgeries on just one leg, I got to thinking… maybe booze wasn’t the answer, although AA was—which led me to NAMI.
Through these people and my Higher Powers I was able to get down on paper (so to speak) this book that has been nagging at me for decades. Now I feel much better. And I do hope you enjoy what I wrote just for you.