Montage

Today I'm going to bring you all a special treat. Three different short samples of my published writing, waiting for your perusing eyes.  Each is something that I hope you will enjoy, and consider picking up a copy of these books in print or kindle format.

Excerpt 1, from The Guns of Mars:

“Over to the desk, now,” Morgan demanded, taking another step forward.

Melinda stepped backwards until her legs bumped into the hardwood desk. She slid around behind it and sat in her chair, eager to slip her hands out of sight.

“Keep those hands where I can see them,” Morgan shouted.

Melinda complied and set them on a bare patch of desk. “Really, Morgan, is this the way you want to be remembered? As the armed terrorist of Mars?”

Morgan kept his cool. “Open the laptop.”

“Why?”

“I need proof,” he said...

Excerpt 2, from West of the Warlock:

"Tough break, Sammy," the warlock said, regaining his own smirk.  Ah, what a satisfying turnaround!

Blascoe was fighting to eject the spent cases from his revolver as quickly as possible.  One by one, the ejector rod pushed the empty brass from the cylinder, but it was futile.  His time had run out.

The warlock still had a revolver in his left hand.  He'd been gripping it this whole time, waiting for the chance to use it.  The simple mechanical device with its neatly polished parts and ornately-carved ivory grips was a marvel of modern machinery, and with this fine weapon the warlock put down his foe in a most material manner.  Three shots were placed in slow succession, enough to grant him added satisfaction from the kill.  Blascoe crumpled to the ground in a lifeless heap, leaving only one man standing between this warlock and the gold.

Excerpt 3, from The Curse of Selwood:

Falling to her knees, Bettina began to cry.  It seemed the appropriate thing to do under the circumstances.  To be kidnapped by a monster on the eve of her wedding was a fate worse than anything she could have imagined, and being stuck in the dark—alone—why, it only compounded her emotions.  The waiting and wondering made her tense, as imagination began to work on her psyche.

What would become of her here?  Would she die a slow death, forgotten in the pit, or would that creature come back?  What would the creature do to her if it did return?  She shuddered to think, and cried some more.

As her whimpering abated, an echoed voice caught her attention.  It was too distant and distorted to be recognized, but it was the first external sound she'd received since awaking.  Someone was coming, and she stood up straight, desperate to understand a single word.  Try as she might, the voice remained identifiable, as the echo of the cave continued to slur it.

What if that voice belonged to a search party?  She had to let them know she was here!  Screaming at the top of her lungs, she cried for help, letting anyone up above know she was alive and well.