Create, Pitch, Sell

Hiatus - Back August 3

Summer Beach Reads 2014

The three best beach reads of all time!
And they just happen to be by the same author.
FREE for a limited time.
A sheriff tracks a psychopath targeting members of a retired mariner's family.
Kobo | Kindle | Nook | Apple | Scribd | Inktera

A reporter furthers his budding career as a crime scene photographer by filming new construction being set ablaze by his older brother, who has a dark secret of his own.
Kobo | Kindle | Nook | Apple | Scribd | Inktera

A deadly game of geocaching goes awry when hidden clues to the whereabouts of a kidnapped victim are swept away in a flash flood.
Kobo | Kindle | Nook | Apple | Scribd | Inktera

Backwoods Justice Trilogy
3 Complete Mystery Novels
UPDATE 6/27/14: Trilogy Now Available on Inktera (Page Foundry)
UPDATE 6/25/14: Trilogy Now Available on Scribd

What's Happening

The free event in Amazon's KDP Select program has come to an end. I am grateful to everyone who chose to read my psychological suspense novel titled SERIAL QUILLER.

The book was not only downloaded across the US, but also in the UK, Germany, Italy, Japan, Canada, and Spain.

How cool is that?

Amazon's KDP Select

SERIAL QUILLER is enrolled in Amazon's KDP Select program. This psychological suspense novel will be free from May 7 to May 11.

Posing as Alma LeJeune, sex worker, crime writer BJ Donovan embarks on a killing spree, by means of voodoo magic, and uses details of the murders to maintain her best-seller status with an episodic thriller series.

BJ Donovan, Serial Quiller

UPDATE 6/21/14: This book is currently unavailable.


Psychological Suspense

13 Complete Stories

Smoke On The Water

UPDATE: Re-titled CAPTIVITY on 5/14/14

Book One in The Hellfire Trilogy
A Mystery Novel
Featuring Sheriff Josh Wolfe

Excerpt from Chapter 1
October, Point Jove, Missouri

It was her uncanny likeness to Adele, his adoptive sister, that made him stare at her. She sat to one side of a barstool with an arm propped on the padded edge, nice legs crossed beneath a short denim skirt. She sipped a margarita; checked out the Saturday night crowd in the intimate saloon setting. Smiled and waved at anyone she knew.

Jim took a seat at the end of the bar. He slid a pack of Morilos out of his shirt pocket. One by one, the single men honed in on her only to get shot down. He lit a cigarette to curb a satisfied smile. The slow moving couples on the dance floor reminded him of his brief stint as a deckhand on a cargo ship and the way the vessel rocked side to side on the rolling sea in advance of a storm. He loved it, even when he was almost swept overboard by a crashing wave.

When a barman with ERIC on his nametag approached, he ordered a shot of off-brand bourbon. A rock glass was plunked down in front of him. Jim paid for the drink with cash. He flicked ashes into an empty peanut bowl. Downed the cheap whiskey that displeased his palate.

Tilting a hat back on his head, he cast a furtive glance in her direction. The lights winked at her auburn hair when she tossed her head back to knock long strands from her shoulder. She looked at him, her eyes twinkling with carefree interest. Glossy red lips beckoned him with a playful smile.

He stood. An older man staggered toward her. Jim realized the effort to go unnoticed so he could keep coming back was about to end.

Killing Summer

A Mystery Novel
Featuring Sheriff Josh Wolfe

July 4, Point Jove

Stripped down to their underwear and socks, the two men walked into the chilly, snake infested waters of White River swatting mosquitoes every step of the way. Moving slowly through a shallow, rocky area with only their head and shoulders above the surface, they stayed close to the bank using their hands to feel around under submerged boulders. A half a mile or so upstream from where they had slung the rest of their clothing over a tree branch, the man in the lead, twenty-seven-year-old Kevin Rayland, took a deep breath, and dove under the water.

More than happy to play the role of spotter, Jasper Monroe kept a watchful eye out for game wardens who don’t care the practice of noodling has been legal in Missouri for quite a while. Since most flathead catfish are on the nest when they’re noodled, wildlife fanatics continue to argue that too many eggs are being destroyed, and this ridiculous and dangerous style of fishing must end.

They weren’t there to hand-fish. Not today. If they get caught, not tomorrow, either.

Kevin shot up out of the water, gasping for air. Swiped a hand down his face. “Found one.”

Jasper got behind him, and tucked his hands under Kevin’s arms to help him keep his balance while he twisted sideways to put his leg in the catfish hole. “Yep, it’s empty.” Jasper let go. Kevin fell backward, scraping his knee. Went under again trying to gain his footing. Angrily smacked the water with the side of his hand.

“Take it easy. Don’t be stirring up any damn leeches.” Jasper broke off a sturdy twig full of stiff brown leaves, stabbed the end in the ground above the hole to mark the spot. Piled rocks around the base for added support. “Let’s get this over with.”

In the waning daylight the men trudged back to their starting point, on guard for venomous snakes swimming about. “Good thing it rained,” Kevin whispered. “It turned the water brown. Maybe they won’t see us coming.” He shuddered, knowing how easy it would be to encounter snakes or beavers that have taken over abandoned holes. A sock won’t prevent sharp teeth or fangs from sinking into his flesh. Snapping turtles can also inflict a lot of misery by biting off a finger or two.

When they reached the rocky shoal, Jasper remained in the water. “Go on, get her.” Focused on the lengthening shadows in the surrounding woods he thought he saw movement. He leaned in, squinted his eyes, then pulled back. “Hurry the hell up,” he said in a low tone.

Kevin ran over to the boulder where they’d hidden the twenty-something ticket taker. He grasped her by her wrists, dragged her to the water’s edge. Jasper took hold of her hands, pulled her headfirst into the water. Kevin jumped in, reached under and found her feet. Her long hair flowed across her face like corn-yellow seaweed stems. The water washed blood from her wounds and marked her passing, as they floated her to the hole in the riverbank.

Jasper crossed her arms over her bare chest then pressed down hard, pushing her under. Banged her head against the rocky wall several times trying to find the opening.

“What’re you doing?”

“I don’t think she’s going to fit.”

“Sure she will. You’re just too chickenshit to duck under and do it the right way.”

“Oh yeah?” Jasper went down, and worked her head and shoulders into the mouth of the hole. Shoved her in as far as she’d go. Jumped up and sucked in a lungful of air. “There’s not enough room for her feet.” He glanced at the concave bank of the meandering river. “I don’t see anything we can use to cover her with.”

“So what? It’d take one hell of a drought for the water to recede enough for someone to see her feet sticking out of there. That could be many years from now. I don’t see the little waterfall up ahead going dry any time soon. Besides, it won’t be long before critters start feasting on her.”

“Whatever. Frickin’ knowitall. C’mon, it’s getting dark. I sure as hell don’t want to be in here when it is. I could use a smoke and a beer, anyway. If we hurry, we’ll have time to stop by Roadhouse Redd before the fireworks begin.”

Jasper raced ahead.

Kevin stood still waiting for the ripples to subside. He looked intently at the muddy water trying to see through it. Tried to imagine lying in that dark hole for all of eternity. Tried to remember exactly why Jasper thought they should remove her clothes. Tried to remember where they stashed them. He felt sorry for her. Just a little. What was her name? Carly? Charley? He shook his head in disdain. What woman goes off with two guys she’d just met? Harley, was it?

Screw it. It isn’t my fault why she tripped and fell down.