Keep your footing on the shifting sands of myth: revealing the 8th Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novel

A fellow Hollywood researcher and writer recently moaned to me what a challenge it is to tease fact from fiction in a place built on fabrication. The product of this town – the movies – was born of imagination, and the people who made them – stars, moguls, directors, writers, craftspeople of all kinds – became obscured behind a gauzy curtain of (usually) self-serving fairy tales.

Cover of Photoplay magazine featuring "The Life and Loves of Ava Gardner"“What is the accurate story?” wasn’t the question that sold tickets, newspapers, and fan magazines, but “What is the most interesting story?” The daughter of a laundress becomes a Boston debutante. A Romanian refugee is now a member of European royalty. A shoeless kid from rural Georgia metamorphoses into the scion of a cotton plantation owner.

People moved to California in order to reinvent themselves in an attempt to leave their "California Here I Come" by Al Jolsonoften-wretched past behind. And where better to do it in a city whose stories, myths, and legends were created?

I was surprised when my friend expressed his frustration. While I certainly understood it, my reaction was the opposite. What makes this an endlessly fascinating topic to explore is that the truth about how Hollywood movies were made is so hard to know. In real life, it’s difficult to live with “fake news” and revisionist history, but deliberately obscured truths are all part and parcel of the allure of golden-era Hollywood, if you ask me.

And that’s why I decided to call my eighth and second-last Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novel:

CITY OF MYTHS

Book 8 in the Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels

by Martin Turnbull

DUE FOR RELEASE IN FEBRUARY 2018

"City of Myths" by Martin Turnbull (book 8 in the Hollywood's Garden of Allah series

For the cover of this book, I wanted to incorporate the symbol that has come to represent the film industry: the Hollywood sign. But I asked my cover designer, Dan Yeager to give us a view of the “H” from the rear. I wanted it to represent the underbelly flipside to all the glamorous portraits, the razzle-dazzle dance numbers, and the sweeping romantic music as the screen fades to black. The tension between what was put on screen at odds with the human cost it took to get it there is something I find endlessly fascinating and is the overarching theme of my novels. I think that the backside of the “H” in the Hollywood sign symbolizes that struggle perfectly—what do you think?

~oOo~

BOOK DESCRIPTION

When you live in a city built on shifting sands of myth, it can be hard to know which way is up.

Kathryn Massey spends her days spreading rumors and keeping secrets. Losing herself one headline at a time has left Kathryn’s personal identity scattered—and dumps her at the narrow end of the bargaining table with the man she trusts the least.

Gwendolyn Brick has simpler aspirations. As a costume designer, her sights are set on glamour, not heights of fame. But her friendship with Marilyn Monroe puts her directly into the crosshairs of studio head, Darryl Zanuck—and he’s someone you don’t say no to.

Marcus Adler is stuck in a much more precarious situation. Exiled in Rome but under the spell of an unexpected romance, he’ll have to learn to say goodbye to everything he’s accomplished in order to give love a chance.

In City of Myths, the road through Hollywood bears sharply to the right as those who dare to play its game can easily become lost in its intoxicating glow.

~oOo~

CHAPTER 1

Marcus Adler vaulted onto the stone balustrade at the eastern rim of the Trevi Fountain and twisted the zoom lens on his camera. Louis Jourdan sharpened into view. The early afternoon sun reflecting off the white marble highlighted the actor’s aristocratic face. Marcus waited for a movie-star smile. He knew right away his photo was a keeper.

Jean Negulesco, the director on Three Coins in the Fountain, had kept a sure hand through long days toiling in the relentless Roman summer. But September was around the corner, which meant that in four days the cast and crew would be boarding a Pan Am flight back to the States.

Everybody else would be resuming their lives and tackling the next film, but for Marcus, it meant picking up his life again.

Goodbye blacklist.

Goodbye graylist.

Hello Garden of Allah Hotel.

Hello career.

Today they were shooting the final scene where the three couples reunited around a deserted Trevi Fountain to what Marcus guessed would be the swell of the movie’s theme song—on-set rumors whispered that Frank Sinatra was going to record it.

But two rolls of film and only one usable photo was not a great ratio.

Negulesco walked out from behind the enormous Technicolor camera and approached Jourdan with a beckoning hand. As Marcus lifted his Leica to readjust the zoom, he heard a metallic clattering at his feet. One of his cufflinks bounced off the stone and plopped into the water swirling eight feet below.

It wasn’t just any cufflink; it was half of his favorite pair, two gold studs embedded with three tiny emeralds apiece. He stared into the fountain. Technically, they weren’t his at all; they belonged to someone he’d been avoiding ever since he arrived in Italy.

Not that Marcus wanted to see Oliver Trenton. Of course he wanted to. But Marcus knew it wasn’t healthy, so he’d avoided walking past the seminary where Oliver had enrolled in the Jesuit priesthood.

Filming had taken them all over the city, but never near Piazza Colonna. They were there right now, three blocks from it.

Four more days, Marcus told himself, then you’ll be out of here and you can put this behind you.

The cufflink glinted on the concrete. He jumped down from the balustrade and skirted around the fountain’s edge until he was close enough to dip his fingers; the water was refreshingly cool in the stifling August heat. Marcus thought of the pool at the Garden of Allah, and how this time next week he’d be able to dive in any time he wanted. God, how he’d missed that.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Negulesco announced to the crew gathered around the Piazza di Trevi. “We have dust in the camera. Mr. Krasner and his team will need several hours to clean it all out, so I’m calling an early lunch until two o’clock.”

Marcus turned back to the water. It didn’t look too deep. Knee height, maybe? Waist deep at most. With any luck he could slip off his shoes, wade in, collect the cufflink, and wade out again before anyone objected.

“Marcus?” Negulesco curled a finger. “May I have a word?”

He joined the director in the doorway of a gelato store. “I got a great shot of Louis, and another of you two when the camera clogged.”

“We need to talk.”

Jean Negulesco was an urbane Eastern European who eschewed shouting in favor of imparting his intentions with an air of genteel authority that brooked little opposition. However, in Marcus’ experience, no pleasant conversation ever started with the words We need to talk.

“Sure. What’s up?”

Negulesco took a long pause, heavy with apprehension. “How about we go for a walk?” He led Marcus out of the piazza and into one of the many narrow lanes that made up the labyrinth of Rome. “It seems River of No Return has been a rough shoot. Otto Preminger and Marilyn Monroe have not gotten along very well and evidently it shows. Zanuck has decided that a number of scenes will require re-shoots, and he wants me to step in.”

“For no screen credit, I assume?” Marcus asked.

“‘Take one for the team’ is how he put it.”

“Did you say yes?”

Negulesco nodded.

They turned onto a wider thoroughfare, Via del Corso, where a long newsstand hawked an array of European and international newspapers. The headline straddling the New York Times was about the Korean war. News from the States was hard to come by and Marcus ached to find out what was happening back home. But Negulesco pressed on. Marcus was starting to pant; this was no casual stroll.

“Does this mean you want me to accompany you on the set when we get back?” Marcus asked. “Kathryn Massey wrote to me the other day. She told me that Monroe—”

“Zanuck has plans for you.”

“Some other movie?” Demetrius and the Gladiators and Prince Valiant were currently shooting on the Fox lot. Did either of them have a troubled script?

“I’m not entirely sure what he has in mind,” Negulesco said.

“What did he say?”

Negulesco remained silent for half a block. “He wants you to stay in Rome.”

Marcus halted out front of a basket store. “Nope.” He shoved his hands down his pockets and rattled the loose change inside. “I took this job so that I could get off the graylist. And when we’ve finished, I get to go back to LA and start my life over.”

“I know,” Negulesco replied quietly.

“I’m getting on that Pan Am flight and neither you nor Zanuck can stop me.” The edges of the lira coins dug into Marcus’ fingers. He pressed them harder until they hurt. “I’ve been counting the days since we got here. He can’t snatch this away from me.”

Negulesco wrapped an arm around Marcus’ shoulders and pulled him farther along the sidewalk. “There are worse things in the world than having someone like Darryl Zanuck owe you a favor.”

Marcus shrugged away his boss’s arm. Its intended intimacy wasn’t lost on him, but it felt like a heavy yoke. The two men veered into a side street. It was a relief to step away from the unsettling bustle. “What exactly did he say?” Marcus asked.

“It was a P.S. at the end of one of his long telegrams. He said that he had some extra duties for you to complete before you flew back to Hollywood.”

“But he didn’t say what?”

“You’re to expect a telephone call some time next week.”

“Don’t those transatlantic phone calls cost a fortune?”

“They do, which means it must be important. And that means he trusts you. Trust is not a quality that comes easily to the Zanucks of this world.”

“I have to wave you off at the airport, then sit around until the telephone rings.”

“Think of it as extra bonus time to enjoy the Eternal City on someone else’s dime,” Negulesco advised. “And while you’re here, maybe you’ll have to run a few errands.”

They were standing at a pasta store window that held fifty different sorts, composed like a Picasso cubist sculpture. The arrangement was astonishingly clever, and must have taken hours to assemble.

I’m a forty-seven-year-old messenger boy.

“You won’t be off the graylist—or the blacklist—until Zanuck says so.” Negulesco pulled at Marcus’ elbow. “Let’s take a breather on that bench over there in the shade.”

It was noticeably cooler on the south side of the street. Marcus felt the tension slip from his shoulders. “If you were to take an educated guess about what these errands might be . . .?”

The director watched an old lady dressed from bonnet to shoes in widow’s black shuffle past, dragging a shopping cart behind her. Every dozen steps or so, she stopped to fan herself with her purse or nod to a storeowner she knew.

“Movie audiences are getting more sophisticated. Fake backlot versions of the Spanish Steps and the Colosseum don’t cut it anymore. For pictures like Three Coins in the Fountain, the studio is selling Europe as an authentic shooting destination. I imagine Zanuck’s going to want lots of scenic pictures of Rome.”

“That’s not something Zanuck needs to place a transatlantic call for.”

“I know, which is why I’d put my money on Bella Darvi. She’s one of Zanuck’s new protégés. Her name came up a few times in his telegram. With The Robe poised to clean up at the box office, I think he’s looking at casting her in The Egyptian.”

The Robe was Fox’s first picture in the new widescreen CinemaScope format and was set to premiere in LA the following week. In her most recent letter, Kathryn had told Marcus that Zanuck was so confident in the movie that he was “expecting it to out-DeMille DeMille.”

But it was Marcus who had originally planted the idea for The Robe into Zanuck’s head. Hope warmed his chest as clues started to fall into place.

“Does Zanuck want to film The Egyptian at Cinecittà?” he asked Negulesco.

“The studio still has a mountain of frozen funds locked up over here—but that might be an excuse.”

“For what?”

“If they film in Italy, Zanuck might have to make a trip to ensure the cast and crew are happy.”

“He didn’t do it for Three Coins.”

“Ah, but our picture doesn’t feature Bella Darvi.”

Another puzzle piece. “She isn’t just a protégé, is she?”

“You asked for an educated guess, Marcus. And if life has educated me about one thing, it’s that men like Darryl F. Zanuck can think with only one part of his anatomy at a time.”

Halfway down the block, a church bell announced that it was one o’clock.

Negulesco got to his feet. “There’s a place not far from here that serves the best saltimbocca alla Romana in the whole city. Care to join me?”

“Thanks,” Marcus said, “but I need time to think. I’ll see you at the Trevi.”

Negulesco headed back the way they’d come, dissolving into the swelling crowd of hungry locals emerging from doorways in search of lunch. “Ciao!” and “Benvenuto!” echoed off the walls as cafés and bars started to fill.

Marcus stood up and pulled his shirt away from the sweat that coated his back. He thought clearer when he was in motion, which usually meant swimming laps, but the Garden of Allah pool was 6,327 miles away, so he’d have to make do with walking.

He turned left and headed toward the church. The bell was silent now; it had done its duty for another hour.

It wasn’t until he drew closer that a growing sense of trepidation rose in his throat.

Jesus H. Christ on a bicycle built for two, you’ve got to be kidding me.

For more than a month, Marcus had done everything he could to avoid standing in this exact place. Every time he found himself close by, he’d gone out of his way to steer clear of the Jesuit seminary off the Piazza Colonna. And yet here he was ten steps from the matching pair of ornately carved doors that separated him from Oliver. His fingers instinctively reached for the edge of his left sleeve to fiddle with the gold-and-emerald cufflink that now lay at the bottom of a fountain.

A burly man wearing a dark blue suit swept past Marcus; their shoulders brushed as he marched toward the church door. He pounded his fist on the circular brass doorknocker.

“APRA QUESTO PORTELLO!”

During his time in Rome, Marcus had picked up a fair smattering of Italian. Open this door!

“ORA!”

Now!

The man pummeled the doorknocker. “APRA QUESTO PORTELLO!” His bellowing brought no response. He pulled off a shoe and struck the door with the heel. The sharp sound made café patrons look up and pigeons take to the air.

“DEVO PARLARE CON QUALCUNO! OGGI! ORA!”

I must speak with someone! Today! Now!

He struck the door again and again until a chunk of weathered wood broke off and fell at his feet. The man gathered it up off the cobblestones, took a couple of steps back, and threw it at the doors.

“NON SIETE UN SANTUARIO! SIETE UNA PRIGIONE!”

You are not a sanctuary! You are a prison!

His face now flushed bright, he stomped past Marcus muttering a stream of Italian too heated for Marcus to catch. The lunchtime crowds parted for him as though his fury were a contagious disease. Soon he was out of sight and the street gradually resumed its customary hubbub.

Marcus walked to the doors of Oliver’s seminary. The chunk of wood the guy had broken off was an angel, about the size of his palm.

Three years ago, when he’d first arrived in Rome to work on Quo Vadis, Marcus was a refugee. He had seen the Eternal City as an escape hatch from the Hollywood blacklisting that had killed his career.

But now it felt different.

Dusty. Dirty. Decaying.

The magazines might have dubbed it the center of the burgeoning jet set, but to Marcus it felt like a city stuck in its Roman Empire glory. It was the past, and he wanted to get on with his future. He felt like taking off his own shoe and banging it against the doors. That nutty guy was right. You are not a sanctuary. You are a prison.

~oOo~

City of Myths is due for release in FEBRUARY 2018

~oOo~

http://www.MartinTurnbull.com

For tons of photos and information about the places and people mentioned
in the Garden of Allah novels, visit Martin Turnbull on Facebook
and/or go to his Photo Blog on his website.

~oOo~

Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels:

  • Book 1 – The Garden on Sunset
  • Book 2 – The Trouble with Scarlett
  • Book 3 – Citizen Hollywood
  • Book 4 – Searchlights and Shadows
  • Book 5 – Reds in the Beds
  • Book 6 – Twisted Boulevard
  • Book 7 – Tinseltown Confidential
  • Book 8 – City of Myths (due out February 2018)
  • Book 9 – Watch this space for future announcements

Martin Turnbull's Hollywood's Garden of Allah novel 10 book banner

~oOo~

http://martinturnbull.us5.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=62c973885c7e930d8b9a754aa&id=e5f41676a2~oOo~

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Announcing the release of the audiobook of “Tinseltown Confidential” (and other news)

It’s a little amazing to me that I am announcing the release of (the audiobook version of) the 7th novel in my Hollywood’s Garden of Allah series, but here we are. Just two more novels to go! I’m deep into the writing of book 8, so the 9th book is now looming on the horizon. In some ways, I feel like a marathon runner who has just turned into the final straight. The finishing line is still a way off, but it’s juuuuuuuust in sight.

Meanwhile, we’ve still got the 1950s to experience and Tinseltown Confidential opens in 1951 just as a new tell-all-spill-all-take-no-prisoners magazine called “Confidential” is ramping up to turn Tinseltown upside down.

So with that in mind, I am pleased to announce the release of the audiobook version of Tinseltown Confidential.

Tinseltown Confidential Audiobook Cover

 

My audiobook narrator – Daniel David Shapiro – has done a wonderful job breathing life into the ups and downs of our three heroes, Marcus, Kathryn and Gwendolyn.

The Tinseltown Confidential audiobook is available through:

And all the links to the paperback and ebook versions are on the Tinseltown Confidential page on my website.

~~~oOo~~~

TINSELTOWN CONFIDENTIAL

(Book 7 in the Hollywood’s Garden of Allah series)

by Martin Turnbull

As America embraces the 1950s, that brash upstart called television is poaching Hollywood’s turf, inch by inch. If the studios don’t do something drastic, they may lose the battle.

When screenwriter Marcus Adler fell afoul of the blacklist, Europe offered sanctuary. Hollywood lures him back, but the specter of Joseph McCarthy forces Marcus to fight for a final chance to clear his name.

A charismatic figure rises to intimidate the entire film industry, and Hollywood Reporter Kathryn Massey realizes that she knows a secret that just might topple this self-appointed savior. If Kathryn fails, will her neck land on the chopping block instead?

A new kiss-and-tell magazine splashes onto the scene—but it isn’t playing by the rules. Gwendolyn Brick figures she doesn’t need to worry about a scandal rag until she spots someone lurking around the Garden of Allah during Marilyn Monroe’s birthday party. Suddenly, Confidential threatens to expose everything.

Tinseltown Confidential is the seventh installment in the Hollywood’s Garden of Allah saga. If you like richly woven details, the Golden Age of Hollywood, and characters who come to life, then you’ll love Martin Turnbull’s captivating historical fiction series.

~~~oOo~~~

I am also happy to announce that book 2 in my series – The Trouble with Scarlett – has now been translated into Portuguese by José Luiz Correa da Silva.

O Problema com Scarlett is now available at

~~~oOo~~~

HOLLYWOOD’S GARDEN OF ALLAH NOVELS – BOOK 8

I have now finished the first draft of book 8 in the series. For some reason, this draft came out much longer than most of my first drafts (like, 40,000 words longer!) so editing it down to a manageable length will take a bit longer (and involve a gallon or two more sweat) than I anticipated, but we’ll get there. At this stage, I’m anticipating a release date of February 2018 (…ish.)

Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels:

  • Book 1 – The Garden on Sunset
  • Book 2 – The Trouble with Scarlett
  • Book 3 – Citizen Hollywood
  • Book 4 – Searchlights and Shadows
  • Book 5 – Reds in the Beds
  • Book 6 – Twisted Boulevard
  • Book 7 – Tinseltown Confidential
  • Book 8 – Due out February 2018

~oOo~

Connect with Martin Turnbull:

Website

Facebook

Pinterest

~oOo~

Hollywood's Garden of Allah novels, by Martin Turnbull~~~oOo~~~

Grab your free books now (limited time offer)~~~oOo~~~

www.MartinTurnbull.com

Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels on FACEBOOK

Martin Turnbull’s audio books on Audible.com

~~~oOo~~~

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A summery fruit salad of golden-era-Hollywood-ness from a sweltery Los Angeles

Hello from an unusually sweltery Los Angeles where we can no longer say “But it’s a dry heat” because apparently we don’t have that anymore…

At any rate, I realized recently that I hadn’t blogged much of late, but that’s because I didn’t have any big news to share with the world. But then I realized that I have a whole bunch of little bits of news, so I’ve thrown them all together like a summer fruit salad and am offering it up for your delight and delectation for you to pick and chose however you’d like.

I hope you’re enjoying your summer (regardless of the humidity wherever your neck of the woods happens to be.)

Martin Turnbull


I recently appeared on the top-rating “HOLLYWOOD & CRIME” podcast that deals with true-live crime in Los Angeles from yesteryear. They invited me to talk about Hollywood scandals of the 1940s to give some context to their Black Dahlia season.

Episode 18 – Noir L.A. – ​ Hollywood Scandals


“TINSELTOWN CONFIDENTIAL” - Book 7 in the Hollywood's Garden of Allah novels

The EverythingZoomer website recently published an article called

A DOZEN WAYS TO GET YOUR OLD HOLLYWOOD FIX THIS SUMMER

and much to my surprise, my 7th novel – Tinseltown Confidential – was listed among them. I mention this not to say “Look at me! Look at me!” but to point out an article that lists a bunch of books and TV shows that vintage Hollywood fans would like to know about – whether it’s summer or not.


MAREM PERFUME

BY CASWELL-MASSEY

A while ago, the New York perfume company Caswell-Massey approached the Alla Nazimova Society to let us know that they were looking to relaunch a couple of fragrances from their archives. One of them was a perfume they formulated around 100 years ago for Alla Nazimova. They sent me a sample and – at least to my inexperienced nose – it smelled light, sweet, and delightfully feminine. I think Alla would approve. You’ll be hearing more about this as launch time approaches, but for now, I can send you to this landing page for Marem perfume – inspired by the great Nazimova!


A few people have asked me recently if anything became of the screen option deal that I announced a while ago. I can report now that the producer, Tabrez Noorani, has renewed our contract and is putting together a pitch which he will present to the various networks (and there are a lot of them these days!) as a television series. So we might yet still see Marcus, Kathryn, and Gwendolyn coming to our TV screens. You can see the original announcement on my website.


HOLLYWOOD’S GARDEN OF ALLAH NOVELS – BOOK 8

And to those readers out there concerned that Tinseltown Confidential was the final book in the series, you might be pleased to know that there is still book 8 and book 9 to come yet. The Garden of Allah Hotel didn’t close until the summer of 1959, so we’ve still got a whole lot of giddy goings-on to go. Currently, I am about halfway through the first draft of book 8. It’s coming along nicely and I’ll be releasing more details in the coming months.


I’ve read a number of interesting books you might like to know about. My three favorite are:

Memo from Darryl F. Zanuck

MEMO FROM DARRYL F. ZANUCK: THE GOLDEN YEARS
AT TWENTIETH CENTURY-FOX
edited by Rudy Behlmer

Zanuck has emerged to become an important character in my later Garden of Allah novels, so I wanted to glean some insight into what he was like. I’m sure he was probably as egotistical as all the other moguls, but he really cared about story and structure, and delivering a satisfying experience to his audience, and worked very hard and very conscientiously to achieve that.

FIFTH AVENUE, 5 A.M. - AUDREY HEPBURN, BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S, AND THE DAWN OF THE MODERN WOMAN by Sam Wasson

FIFTH AVENUE, 5 A.M. – AUDREY HEPBURN, BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY’S,
AND THE DAWN OF THE MODERN WOMAN
by Sam Wasson

What an unexpected gem! This is not just a book about the making of Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Wasson offers the theory that the casting of good-girl Audrey Hepburn in the role of bad-girl Holly Golightly was a turning point for nascent 1960s feminism, giving permission to good girls everywhere that being a little bit bad could be a little bit good.


THE REAL NICK AND NORA - FRANCES GOODRICH AND ALBERT HACKETT, WRITERS OF STAGE AND SCREEN CLASSICS by David L. Goodrich

THE REAL NICK AND NORA:
FRANCES GOODRICH AND ALBERT HACKETT,
WRITERS OF STAGE AND SCREEN CLASSICS

by David L. Goodrich

Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett were a married couple that wrote the screenplays for some of the most beloved Hollywood movies, including the first “Thin Man” films, “It’s a Wonderful Life,” “Easter Parade,” and “The Diary of Anne Frank.” They were also frequent residents of the Garden of Allah Hotel. This biography, written by Frances’ nephew gives, us a loving and well-researched look into what it was really like to be a writer swimming in the shark-infested waters of the Hollywood studio system and Broadway.


I post a vintage photo of Los Angeles, Hollywood, and/or California each day on the photo blog of my website. You can sign up to have them delivered to your email each morning. I also post them (and others) on my Facebook page.

Here are some of my recent favorites:

A LaSalle being attended to in "full service" at the Muller Brothers Service Station at 6380 Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood, 1938

You know you’re looking at a vintage photo when you’re watching five gas station attendants in pristine uniforms giving full service to one vehicle. This amazing event took place in 1938 at the Muller Brothers Service Station at 6380 Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood. These days, that location is occupied by the Cinerama Dome. Oh, and that gorgeous vehicle is a LaSalle, which is probably the car I’d hijack if they ever invent a time machine and I got to go back to late 1930s Hollywood.

One of the gems in LA’s architectural panoply is the Richfield Oil building that stood at 555 Flower St in downtown L.A. between 1929 to 1969. With its beacon-topped tower and striking black-and-gold tiling (even though it does look blue in this photo) it was a sight to behold. And let’s be honest, that ornate street lamp is a work of art in itself.

A traffic policeman stops for a tea break, Broadway and 11th Street, Los Angeles, 1927

I don’t know what sort of benefits that members of the Los Angeles Police Department get these days, but I doubt today’s traffic cops get a tea break delivered to them by a uniformed waitress—but they also don’t have to lug their own little wooden box to stand on. This photo was taken at the corner of Broadway and 11th Street in downtown Los Angeles, 1927—that building behind them is still there.

Gloria Swanson by master photographer, Edward Steichen

Gloria Swanson by master photographer, Edward Steichen

Carole Lombard's final appearance at a war bond tour prior to her death in 1942

Carole Lombard’s final appearance at a war bond tour prior to her death in 1942.

~~oOo~~

Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels:
Book 1: The Garden on Sunset
Book 2: The Trouble with Scarlett
Book 3: Citizen Hollywood
Book 4: Searchlights and Shadows
Book 5: Reds in the Beds
Book 6: Twisted Boulevard
Book 7: Tinseltown Confidential

Hollywood's Garden of Allah novels, by Martin Turnbull

~~oOo~~

 

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Announcing the release of Book Seven of Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels: “TINSELTOWN CONFIDENTIAL”

Way, way back when I started writing the Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels, I knew there was plenty of giddy goings-on to write about in the 1920s, ‘30s, and ‘40s: the arrival of sound, the end of Prohibition, the coming of war, the threat (perceived or real) of anti-Communism and subsequent blacklisting. There was no end of possible plotlines and events to incorporate into the narrative. But the 1950s? Hmmmmm, I thought, not so much. What am I going to write about?

How wrong I was.

In writing book seven in this series, it soon became apparent that the final trilogy of books that will take us through to the Garden of Allah Hotel’s closing in August of 1959 had more than enough chaos and turmoil and upheaval for me to wind around the lives of Marcus Adler, Kathryn Massey, and Gwendolyn Brick. 1950s Hollywood dealt with the precipitous growth of television, the concurrent death of radio, the wide-screen-ing of theatrical releases, the rise of post-war European cinema, unscrupulous tell-all magazines, and the meteoric starburst of both Marilyn Monroe and Joseph McCarthy.

But for now, let’s just deal with the early 1950s when Hollywoodites were only starting to become aware of what lurked on the horizon.

I am very happy to announce that my new novel:

“TINSELTOWN CONFIDENTIAL”

is now available.

~oOo~

“TINSELTOWN CONFIDENTIAL” - Book 7 in the Hollywood's Garden of Allah novels

As America embraces the 1950s, that brash upstart called television is poaching Hollywood’s turf, inch by inch. If the studios don’t do something drastic, they may lose the battle.

When screenwriter Marcus Adler fell afoul of the blacklist, Europe offered sanctuary. Hollywood lures him back, but the specter of Joseph McCarthy forces Marcus to fight for a final chance to clear his name.

A charismatic figure rises to intimidate the entire film industry, and Hollywood Reporter Kathryn Massey realizes that she knows a secret that just might topple this self-appointed savior. If Kathryn fails, will her neck land on the chopping block instead?

A new kiss-and-tell magazine splashes onto the scene—but it isn’t playing by the rules. Gwendolyn Brick figures she doesn’t need to worry about a scandal rag until she spots someone lurking around the Garden of Allah during Marilyn Monroe’s birthday party. Suddenly, Confidential threatens to expose everything.

Tinseltown Confidential is the seventh installment in the Hollywood’s Garden of Allah saga. If you like richly woven details, the Golden Age of Hollywood, and characters who come to life, then you’ll love Martin Turnbull’s captivating historical fiction series.

~oOo~

READ CHAPTER ONE ONLINE

~oOo~

TINSELTOWN CONFIDENTIAL

Martin Turnbull with
“Tinseltown Confidential”
Book 7 – June 2017

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Barnes & Noble paperback

Apple iBook ebook

Kobo ebook

Goodreads

Book Depository paperback (free worldwide shipping)

AudiobookCOMING SOON!

For more information, see the Tinseltown Confidential page on my website.

~oOo~

And when you have read it (assuming, of course, that you enjoyed it), if you have the chance and inclination, I’d really appreciate it if you could leave a review on whichever website you bought it. Rate it as many stars as you see fit, and give your honest opinion. Just a couple of lines will do! The more reviews a book has, the higher its profile rises. Thanks!
Martin Turnbull

~oOo~

The Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels:

  • Book 1 – The Garden on Sunset
  • Book 2 – The Trouble with Scarlett
  • Book 3 – Citizen Hollywood
  • Book 4 – Searchlights and Shadows
  • Book 5 – Reds in the Beds
  • Book 6 – Twisted Boulevard
  • Book 7 – Tinseltown Confidential

~oOo~

Connect with Martin Turnbull:

Website

Facebook

Pinterest

~oOo~

Hollywood's Garden of Allah novels, by Martin Turnbull

~oOo~

 

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Announcing the release of the audiobook of “Twisted Boulevard”

But first, a humblebrag…

One of the hardest parts of independently publishing your own work is cajoling / convincing / coaxing your readers to write a review. Authors live in a world where our success is governed largely by this mysterious secret sauce called “algorithms” – the busy behind-the-scene bees that determine your discoverability – i.e. how potential readers can discover your work. To put it simply, the more reviews your book gets, the more discoverable your book is. And so as an author, I am grateful for every review that someone takes the time to post–be it YAY!, or RASPBERRY! or simply meh.

But when a rave review comes in, as one did recently for Twisted Boulevard, it makes all the difference in the world. Not just to the algorithm, but as an encouragement that my stories of old Hollywood are finding their way to people who find this era as fascinating as I do. I was so touched by what this reader wrote, that I wanted to share part of it with you:

After finishing this book I *may* have sat for several minutes hugging my kindle and bawling my eyes out (yeah, I totally did). “Twisted Boulevard” had it all – laughter, tears and righteous indignation. I love the characters in this book. Over the course of this series so far, they have come to feel like family. And who doesn’t love a story set against the backdrop of classic Hollywood? This book and the series are just fabulous. I especially appreciated the self doubt and slightly adrift feelings expressed by Kathryn and Marcus, following their 40th birthdays.

So with that in mind, I am very pleased and proud to announce the release of the audiobook version of book 6 in the “Hollywood’s Garden of Allah” series: Twisted Boulevard.

"Twisted Boulevard" audiobook cover

My audiobooks narrator – Lance Roger Axt – and has again done a wonderful job breathing life into not just Marcus, Kathryn and Gwendolyn, but also the dawning days of the 1950s.

The Twisted Boulevard audiobook is available through:

~~~oOo~~~

TWISTED BOULEVARD

(Book 6 in the Hollywood’s Garden of Allah series)

by Martin Turnbull

When the Red Scare ends, paranoia lingers. Can Tinseltown recover to take on television?

After an exile from MGM, ousted screenwriter Marcus Adler is looking for his way back into the biz. When he hatches a plan to start over with a disgraced movie star, a Hollywood censor reminds Marcus that the misdeeds of the past aren’t soon forgotten.

Hollywood Reporter columnist Kathryn Massey is always looking for a hot tip. She never expected it would come from Lauren Bacall, and point her toward a new career high. But when a trip to the set of Sunset Boulevard reveals a haunting glimpse into her past, Kathryn isn’t sure who to trust, especially when a hot new rival hits town.

Gwendolyn Brick thought her new store would be a hit, but she never realized it could become a target. Threatened by Los Angeles’ most notorious madam, Gwendolyn will need a Hollywood-style miracle to keep her store alive.

Twisted Boulevard is the sixth installment in the Hollywood’s Garden of Allah saga. If you like richly woven details, the Golden Age of Hollywood, and characters who come to life, then you’ll love Martin Turnbull’s captivating historical fiction series.

~~~oOo~~~

Martin's book recomendations

mary-astors-purple-diaryMary Astor’s Purple Diary by Edward Sorel
Cartoonist Edward Sorel learned of the sensational custody trial endured by actress Mary Astor (of Maltese Falcon fame) in the mid 1930s when he pulled up old kitchen linoleum and found newspaper pages covering the trial. Though forgotten now, the trial was gleefully reported by all the papers, ad nauseum. Astor’s trial has been documented before, but not like this. Not with such warmth and humor – and so many memorable Sorel illustrations!

las-legendary-restaurants-celebrating-the-famous-places-where-hollywood-ate-drank-and-played-by-george-gearyLA’s Legendary Restaurants – Celebrating the Famous Places Where Hollywood Ate, Drank, and Played by George Geary
If you’re as much a fan as I am of old restaurants, clubs, diners and menus from Hollywood’s golden era, you’re just gonna lerve George Geary’s book. It takes a look at 60 of the most famous venues around town. Tons of photos and recipes! (See also my website: Hollywood Places)

~~~oOo~~~

Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels:

Book One: The Garden on Sunset
Book Two: The Trouble with Scarlett
Book Three: Citizen Hollywood
Book Four: Searchlights and Shadows
Book Five: Reds in the Beds
Book Six: Twisted Boulevard
Book Seven: Tinseltown Confidential

Hollywood's Garden of Allah novels, by Martin Turnbull~~~oOo~~~

Grab your free books now (limited time offer)~~~oOo~~~

www.MartinTurnbull.com

Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels on FACEBOOK

Martin Turnbull’s audio books on Audible.com

~~~oOo~~~

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Tinseltown’s next big game-changer: revealing the 7th Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novel

It wasn’t until I started researching golden-era Hollywood that I realized every few years, a game-changer came along that forced Hollywood to pivot.

First came the advent of sound; then the perfection of Technicolor; and then Gone with the Wind gave Hollywood its first real super-blockbuster. Next, Orson Welles arrived to make Citizen Kane and he advanced the art of film while boldly telling the moguls that he was going to shoot his movie the way he wanted. Then WWII turned Hollywood into a propaganda machine, and after the war, the anti-Commie Red Scare ensured that hundreds of creatives were blacklisted.

The 5000 Fingers of Dr T posterWhen the 1950s dawned, the game changed yet again. The rise of television hastened the decline of radio and nightclubs, and forced the Hollywood studios to go widescreen, go stereophonic, go 3D. They had to do whatever it took to entice the dwindling movie-going public with an experience they couldn’t get from their little box in the corner of the living room.

But then a second frontal attack opened up. Until the early ‘50s, the movie-fan magazines Debut issue of Confidential Magazine, December 1952pretty much regurgitated whatever the studio publicity departments dictated. Enter stage right: Confidential magazine, whose M.O. was “Print first and check facts later. In fact, let’s dispense with facts altogether until someone sues us.” Overnight, the picture-perfect lives constructed for picture-perfect stars began to show signs of cracking.

And so, it’s into this roiling primordial soup we jump with book seven in the Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels:

 

TINSELTOWN CONFIDENTIAL

Book 7 in the Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels

by Martin Turnbull

“TINSELTOWN CONFIDENTIAL” - Book 7 in the Hollywood's Garden of Allah novels

As America embraces the 1950s, that brash upstart called television is poaching Hollywood’s turf, inch by inch. If the studios don’t do something drastic, they may lose the battle.

When screenwriter Marcus Adler fell afoul of the blacklist, Europe offered sanctuary. Hollywood lures him back, but the specter of Joseph McCarthy forces Marcus to fight for a final chance to clear his name.

A charismatic figure rises to intimidate the entire film industry, and Hollywood Reporter Kathryn Massey realizes that she knows a secret that just might topple this self-appointed savior. If Kathryn fails, will her neck land on the chopping block instead?

A new kiss-and-tell magazine splashes onto the scene—but it isn’t playing by the rules. Gwendolyn Brick figures she doesn’t need to worry about a scandal rag until she spots someone lurking around the Garden of Allah during Marilyn Monroe’s birthday party. Suddenly, Confidential threatens to expose everything.

Tinseltown Confidential is the seventh installment in the Hollywood’s Garden of Allah saga. If you like richly woven details, the Golden Age of Hollywood, and characters who come to life, then you’ll love Martin Turnbull’s captivating historical fiction series.

~oOo~

And here now is the first chapter:

CHAPTER 1

When Kathryn Massey stepped out of the limousine in front of the Pantages Theatre, flashbulbs exploded along the sidewalk. She closed her eyes and turned her head before she realized how crummy she’d look in the papers the next day. She turned back around, but the photographers had moved on to the next car. Fred Astaire unfolded his lean frame and waved to the fans, who roared with excitement.

He greeted Kathryn with a kiss to the cheek.

“Nervous?” she asked.

He kept his smile wide. “Piece of cake.”

“Since when is hosting the Academy Awards a piece of cake?”

“Since the day I realized they were never going to give me one. You won’t see me sweating through my tux.”

Kathryn’s date, Leo Presnell, emerged from the limo behind her. She introduced him to Fred, and together with Fred’s wife, Phyllis, they bustled past a tight core of press photographers and into the theater’s foyer.

It was Kathryn who felt nervous. Her friend Bette Davis was supposed to be a shoo-in for All About Eve tonight, but she had stiff competition from Gloria Swanson and Sunset Boulevard. Kathryn feared that Bette and her co-star Anne Baxter would split their votes and hand the Oscar to Gloria.

Bette had telephoned Kathryn that morning, wailing, “What if they don’t call my name? What if it goes to Gloria instead? How many more Margo Channings am I likely to get a crack at?”

Kathryn had no good answers, but she proposed a fortifying pre-show whiskey at the Frolic Room next door to the Pantages. But then Leo was late picking her up at the Garden of Allah, and there was traffic at Hollywood and Vine. They arrived with only forty-five minutes to showtime. Surely Bette was already running the gamut of press, fans, and well-wishers.

“Do you see her?”

“No,” Leo said, “but I need to use the john. If you find her, blame everything on me.”

“I fully intend to.”

Leo’s afternoon meeting with NBC hadn’t unfolded the way he expected. He worked for Sunbeam Mixmaster who, along with Betty Crocker, sponsored Kathryn’s radio show. It was supposed to be a casual get-together with the network brass, which Kathryn assumed meant a three-martini lunch at Perino’s. Instead, they’d lowered the boom that Window on Hollywood had cratered to number twenty-two in the ratings—not great news for a show that had once nudged the top five.

Leo melted away, pointing to the knot of people besieging Ava Gardner and Frank Sinatra. Rumors were swirling that Ava had moved in with Frank. Not that Hollywood cared much about a glamour couple living in sin, but the vast expanse between Los Angeles and New York did. Kathryn knew if she could get a wedding date out of either of them, it would keep the NBC hounds at bay for a while.

As she elbowed her way toward them, she spotted Bette posing on the mezzanine steps, backlit by a spotlight suspended from the second-floor balcony. “Bette! BETTE!” But the din bouncing off the Art Deco angles swallowed her voice.

Marilyn Monroe angled the right shoulder of the gauzy concoction Gwendolyn Brick had made for her, and sliced through the tightening crowd toward Bette. She arrived at the bottom step just as Bette kissed George Sanders goodbye.

Marilyn waved, tilted onto her toes, and called to Bette, who doused her with a critical once-over, then turned her back, leaving Marilyn to stand in her shadow.

A pocket of space opened up in front of Kathryn. She went to raise her hand again, but someone yanked it down—Arlene Curtis, a neighbor at the Garden of Allah.

“I just got accosted by Walter Winchell! Thank God I found you!”

“Is he drunk?” Walter Winchell drunk and handsy at the Oscars? Now, THAT is a great story.

Arlene pulled a face. “No, but he was full of questions about Mayer.”

During tonight’s ceremony, Louis B. Mayer was to be awarded an honorary Oscar for “distinguished service to the motion picture industry.” It wasn’t as exciting as the one Bette would be getting, but a gleaming Oscar perched on a mantelpiece was nothing to sneer at.

Arlene drew in closer. “I’m not supposed to say anything, but my boss has been reviewing Mayer’s contract.” Arlene was chief legal secretary for MGM’s principal attorney.

“Reviewing it for what?”

“Loopholes. They want to cancel it three years early.”

“That’s outrageous! He’s L.B.! He is Hollywood! Are they forgetting that King Solomon’s Mines made nearly ten million?”

“Not too long ago, we would’ve dominated the top ten. I get the feeling Mr. Schenck feels it’s time for a change.”

“Are you sure?”

“Who do you think’s been typing the memos to New York?” Arlene knotted her fingers together. “A year or so ago, I ran into Mr. Mayer at the commissary. I could tell he recognized me from—you know . . .” Arlene was working in a brothel above the Sunset Strip when Kathryn’s friend met her at an MGM management party. “We swapped an I-know-who-you-are look. Would you believe he actually came up to me and said it was nice to see me doing so well for myself? He never said a word to anyone about my past. What they’re doing is real rotten. Mr. Mayer deserves better.”

“Do you think Winchell’s caught wind of this?”

“With Walter Winchell, it’s safest to err on the side of probably.”

The lights dimmed for a moment, and a deep voice announced that the ceremony for the twenty-third Academy Awards would commence in ten minutes.

Kathryn thanked Arlene and made her way to her seat in the twelfth row next to Leo, five rows behind Bette and several behind Marilyn.

The news about Mayer consumed her thoughts as All About Eve picked up six Oscars, Judy Holliday won for Born Yesterday, Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis sang “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo” from the new Disney cartoon, and Edith Head picked up two Best Costume Designs for All About Eve and Samson and Delilah.

By the time Darryl Zanuck was accepting his Thalberg Award, Kathryn was wondering how best to tip off Mayer. Did he even need to be tipped off? If there was a groundswell brewing, surely his stoolies had already told him.

When Charles Brackett presented Mayer with his honorary Oscar, Kathryn was struck by the self-effacing way Mayer approached the podium. All finagling flew out of her head when Mayer gave his unexpectedly brief speech.

“This is truly a thrilling experience,” he said, looking at nobody in particular. “I’ve been very fortunate in being honored in many ways, but this stands out above all because it’s from the men and women in the industry I love and have worked so hard in. And it fills me with humility and a great sense of responsibility to the future years to come.”

By the time he shook hands with Brackett and made his way out of the spotlight, Kathryn felt like a rat. He’s been good to you, she castigated herself. He’s given you scoops over Louella and Hedda and Sheilah, made you the envy of the dance floor, and found work for Marcus when he was blacklisted. No, she decided, at the very least, I need to make sure he knows what’s going on.

After the ceremony, as the theater rustled with silk, organza, chiffon, and congratulations—sincere or otherwise—Kathryn found Bette and her indomitable mother, Ruthie. They both wore faces bleaker than a Massachusetts ice storm. Bette met Kathryn with a jaundiced eye.

“Don’t worry,” Bette said, “I possess no sharp objects. Everyone’s jugular will survive the night intact.”

“Are you terribly disappointed?” Kathryn asked.

“I’m ropeable! This was my last shot. It’s all grandmothers and character parts from here on out.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Just you watch. I’ll be the go-to dame for the ‘Crazy Spinster Neighbor’ and ‘Grandma with Dementia’ roles.” Bette’s disdainful gaze landed on Marilyn as she chatted with Bill Holden and Joe Mankiewicz. “She’s what they want now. Pretty, blonde, and dumb as dirt. Just look at who they gave Best Actress to this evening.”

“Neither Judy Holliday nor Marilyn Monroe is dumb as dirt,” Kathryn interjected. “If that’s the way you’re going to be, I’ll leave you to stew in your own juices.”

“Please don’t,” Bette conceded, to Kathryn’s relief. “You’re right. Let’s go find a drink before anybody else wants to bury me in their heartfelt sympathies.”

“I just want to congratulate Mayer. I’ll meet you out front. Leo’s there somewhere with a limo big enough to house the LA Rams.”

Kathryn picked her way backstage where Edith Head buttonholed her. “I’d forgotten how heavy these little golden guys are!”

Kathryn doubted that. Edith’s first Oscar, just last year for The Heiress, was on a prominent shelf in her office. Still, two Oscars in one night was a significant achievement.

As she embraced Edith, Kathryn spotted Mayer slipping out the stage door. She made her excuses and followed him into the service lane behind the theater, mildly surprised to find it empty except for Mayer staring at his award.

As she drew closer, she caught his contemptuous look. “I came to offer my congratulations.”

Mayer held his Oscar up so that it caught the light of a street lamp at the end of the alley. “I just heard someone calling this the Kiss of Death Award.”

“That’s awfully mean-spirited.”

“In other words, the Thanks for Everything but Your Best Work Is Behind You So Please Get Lost Award.”

“If you don’t want it, I’m sure Bette Davis would love to—”

“I meant what I said tonight.”

“I could tell.”

Mayer lowered the trophy. “It left a bitter taste in my mouth, but I’m not going to let it spoil a memorable night, so thank you for seeking me out. I appreciate that.”

Kathryn fought the urge to fidget with her clutch purse as Mayer raised a wary eyebrow. “I came to see if you know what’s going on with your contract.”

“How do you mean?”

He’s not as well connected as I assumed. Maybe that’s the problem. “You need to know that Nick Schenck and your head of Legal have been combing your contract for something that will allow them to cancel it early.”

Mayer tried to keep his face immobile. “I don’t believe you.” His voice had turned acerbic.

“My source is pretty good.”

“Tell me who told you.”

“I can’t, but she is on your side.”

“You’re playing with my career, my legacy, on the word of some girl?”

“What’s gender got to do with it?” Kathryn started to wish she’d kept her trap shut. “It appears Winchell’s caught a whiff of it, although I’m not sure how much he knows. The point is, someone’s looking to sink your career—”

“No, Miss Massey. The point is tonight was supposed to be a career highlight.”

Don’t shoot the messenger, Bucko. “When did I get demoted from Kathryn to Miss Massey?”

“When you decided to shove rumors of my demise in my face.”

“I came out here to warn you. If I’d known I was going to get accused of—”

“Of what? Fishing for one of your precious scoops? I had you pegged as a cut above Louella and Hedda. But now I have to wonder if I’ve been wrong about you this entire time.”

Kathryn dropped her gaze to Mayer’s Oscar. He gripped it between two fingers, dangling it by its head like a stale cigar.

They were suddenly drenched in the headlights of Mayer’s roaring limo. She stepped back as it pulled up. Mayer got in and slammed the door, leaving Kathryn to choke on the exhaust and wish she were more like Louella and Hedda, who wouldn’t hesitate for a second to announce this betrayal to the world.

~oOo~

Tinseltown Confidential is due for release in June 2017

~oOo~

www.MartinTurnbull.com

For tons of photos and information about the places and people mentioned
in the Garden of Allah novels, visit Martin Turnbull on Facebook
and/or go to his Photo Blog on his website.

~oOo~

Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels:

Book One: The Garden on Sunset
Book Two: The Trouble with Scarlett
Book Three: Citizen Hollywood
Book Four: Searchlights and Shadows
Book Five: Reds in the Beds
Book Six: Twisted Boulevard
Book Seven: Tinseltown Confidential

~oOo~

http://martinturnbull.us5.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=62c973885c7e930d8b9a754aa&id=e5f41676a2

~oOo~

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Announcing the release of Book Six of Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels: “TWISTED BOULEVARD””

"Twisted Boulevard" - book 6, Hollywood's Garden of Allah novels, by Martin Turnbull

I am very happy to announce that my new novel

“TWISTED BOULEVARD”

is now available!

~oOo~

The late 1940s were a perilous time in the film industry.

Many Hollywoodites assumed that they were done with the venomous HUAC and that life could return to some semblance of normal–or whatever passed for normal in Hollywood. But the Red Scare wasn’t quite done with them…and there was yet another monster looming on the horizon.

Every now and then, new technology leaps to the fore and threatens the current system. We saw that with the advent of VHS tapes and the concept of “home theaters”; the digitization of music and the ease of file sharing; and more recently the ability to stream movies without having to own them. But this phenomenon isn’t new.

tv

“Please, mommy, how are we supposed to see anything on that teeny, tiny screen?”

It happened in the late 1940s when the seemingly unassailable studio system dismissed that plywood box in the corner of the living room with the teeny, tiny screen. How could it possibly compare to the rich experience offered by the silver screen theaters?

Today, we look back and wonder, “How could they not see that?” But Hollywoodites of the late 1940s were not blessed with the wisdom of hindsight, and it’s in this whirlpool we meet up again with Marcus, Kathryn and Gwendolyn in February 1948 as they meet each twist and turn of a world changing around them.

~oOo~

“Twisted Boulevard”

Book Six in the Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels

When the Red Scare ends, paranoia lingers. Can Tinseltown recover to take on television?

After an exile from MGM, ousted screenwriter Marcus Adler is looking for his way back into the biz. When he hatches a plan to start over with a disgraced movie star, a Hollywood censor reminds Marcus that the misdeeds of the past aren’t soon forgotten.

Hollywood Reporter columnist Kathryn Massey is always looking for a hot tip. She never expected it would come from Lauren Bacall, and point her toward a new career high. But when a trip to the set of Sunset Boulevard reveals a haunting glimpse into her past, Kathryn isn’t sure who to trust, especially when a hot new rival hits town.

Gwendolyn Brick thought her new store would be a hit, but she never realized it could become a target. Threatened by Los Angeles’ most notorious madam, Gwendolyn will need a Hollywood-style miracle to keep her store alive.

~oOo~

The first chapter is available to read on my website: CHAPTER ONE

~oOo~

Twisted Boulevard is available in all formats.

Martin Turnbull with "Twisted Boulevard" - Book 6 - November 2016

Martin Turnbull with “Twisted Boulevard”
Book 6 – November 2016

Amazon (US) paperback

Amazon (US) Kindle ebook

Amazon (UK) paperback

Amazon (UK) Kindle ebook

Amazon (Australia) Kindle ebook

Amazon (Canada) Kindle ebook

Barnes & Noble Nook ebook

Barnes & Noble paperback

Apple iBook ebook

Kobo ebook

Book Depository paperback (free worldwide shipping)

For more information, see the Twisted Boulevard page of my website.

~oOo~

And when you have read it (assuming, of course, that you enjoyed it), if you have the chance and inclination, I’d really appreciate it if you could leave a review on whichever website you bought it. Rate it as many stars as you see fit, and give your honest opinion. Just a couple of lines will do! The more reviews a book has, the higher its profile rises. Thanks!

~oOo~

The Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels:

  • Book 1 – The Garden on Sunset
  • Book 2 – The Trouble with Scarlett
  • Book 3 – Citizen Hollywood
  • Book 4 – Searchlights and Shadows
  • Book 5 – Reds in the Beds
  • Book 6 – Twisted Boulevard

These books are also available in two boxed sets of trilogies (ebooks only)

Hollywood's Garden of Allah Novels - Trilogy #1

The Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels trilogy #1

  • Book 1 – The Garden on Sunset
  • Book 2 – The Trouble with Scarlett
  • Book 3 – Citizen Hollywood

Trilogy #1 on Amazon

Trilogy #1 on Amazon Canada

Trilogy #1 on Amazon UK

Trilogy #1 on Amazon Australia

Trilogy #1 on Barnes & Noble

Trilogy #1 on Kobo

Trilogy #1 on iBooks

~~~  a n d  ~~~

The Hollywood's Garden of Allah novels trilogy #2

The Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels trilogy #2

  • Book 4 – Searchlights and Shadows
  • Book 5 – Reds in the Beds
  • Book 6 – Twisted Boulevard

Trilogy #2 on Amazon

Trilogy #2 on Amazon Canada

Trilogy #2 on Amazon UK

Trilogy #2 on Amazon Australia

Trilogy #2 on Barnes & Noble

Trilogy #2 on Kobo

Trilogy #2 on iBooks

~oOo~

And in other news Hollywood's Garden of Allah relate news

 

The OFF THE SHELF website just published a list of:

11 Scandalous Novels that Illuminate the Golden Years of Hollywood

Much to my surprise, honor and thrill, my first novel, The Garden on Sunset was listed alongside the likes of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Joyce Carol Oates, and James Ellroy.

You can check out the list here.

And in case you haven’t gotten around to reading The Garden on Sunset yet, it’s currently available for FREE in ebook formats.

"The Garden on Sunset" by Martin TurnbullMore information can be found on my website.

~oOo~

If you enjoy seeing old photos of Hollywood and Los Angeles, and of the people and personalities that populated it, follow me on Facebook.

~oOo~

And a personal note to everyone who has read my previous Hollywood’s Garden of Allah novels and took the time to tell me how much they enjoyed them, I’d like to take this opportunity to send out a great big

THANK YOU!

Your support has been wonderfully encouraging.

All the best,

Martin Turnbull

www.MartinTurnbull.com

~oOo~

~oOo~

Hollywood's Garden of Allah novels by Martin Turnbull

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