listing in my post directly. It gives the option for a free preview of the book, as well as sending you STRAIGHT to my book’s Kindle listing.

It’s kind of spiffy.

If you haven’t read this one, feel free to hit up the free preview and check it out. If you have read it, check out one of my titles you haven’t read, and/or share it with a friend.

As I mention sharing… there are two meanings to this. You can actually share my book if you bought it… once. You can send a friend the book for free for 14 days for them to read it. There is no additional cost to either of you. But I’m pretty sure you can only do it once.

Also in the vein of sharing, I would LOVE it if you shared any of my posts, or that you enjoyed any of my books, with as many people as you dare.

Getting noticed without a giant ad budget is tough. The deal I made with myself when I started this was that I wouldn’t spend more to market than what was coming in from sales. And that is a rough road. Even effectively giving away free books is expensive. Some of the “book deal” newsletters charge over $100 to give away FREE books. And there is no type of guarantee of a single future sale.

And then there is the whole business of buying artwork for covers, paying editors and all of the other gears in the mechanism. I will say that the background stuff (not the marketing) gets a little easier with each book.

Miss Keller was the stuff of dreams.  When she walked into the skating rink, every guy would turn to watch her.  Skate Dads would always try to sit by her when they were watching figure skating practice.  He’d never been this close to her before, and close up she was even more beautiful. 

“Please, Nick, call me Linda,” she said as she sipped her own Coke.  “Let’s go move some furniture.”

He followed her back out to the living room and spent the next hour dragging furniture from one spot to another, interspersed with carrying boxes to and from the attic as she completely made the room over, the two of them chatting the whole time.  By the time she called a halt, they were both sweaty and tired. 

“I really appreciate it, Nick.  It sure was nice to have a strong man around for a change,” she said with a wink.  She handed him another Coke and dropped onto the couch next to him.  “Kat told me that you and Heather broke up.  Bummer, you guys were so cute together,” she said between sips of her margarita.  It had been a few weeks since the break-up.  He and Heather were still friends, but he wasn’t sure what had happened. 

They sat together, continuing the conversation they’d had while working.  Linda was on her second margarita when she asked Nick if he was hungry.  “It’s the least I can do.  You have been here all afternoon and you won’t let me pay you.  At least let me take you out for dinner.  Nothing fancy… ok?”

“I guess,” he replied. 

“I’ll only be a minute,” she said, jumping up from the couch.  “Let me clean up and change.  Back in a flash,” she said as he watched her sweep up the stairs. 

Nick stood up and went to the hall bath.  He combed his hair and checked his pits to see if he smelled bad.  He quickly rinsed his face before going back to the living room to wait for Kat’s mom. 

Linda came back down the steps and Nick struggled to keep from doing a double take.  She was in tight jeans and a curve-hugging, long sleeve t-shirt.  If he hadn’t known she was his friend’s mother, he would have sworn she was a dozen years younger than he assumed she was. 

“We can take my car, but you’re going to have to drive.  You drive a stick?” she asked. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied.  He’d seen her little blue BMW convertible, and was looking forward to taking it for a spin. 

She led him out to the garage.  The car was sitting there with the top down, ready to go.  She quickly put her hair in a ponytail and climbed into the passenger seat as Nick went around to the driver’s side of the car.  A moment later they were backing out of the driveway and heading toward Espinoza’s Taqueria, Nick at the wheel. 

“I know that Kat is at skating practice, where is Nicole?” Nick asked as they pulled up to a traffic light.

“Spending the weekend with her friend.  You know the Tolivers, don’t you?  She hangs out with Chrissy.”

“I know Chrissy Toliver.  I drive all three of the Toliver kids home sometimes,” Nick replied. 

Linda sat up a little and turned toward Nick, “How many kids do you drive home after skating?  Kat has said you had a carful most of the time.”

Nick laughed.  “Depends.  I’ve had a dozen in the wagon before.”

“Right after we moved here last year, when I was at the rink, one of the moms pointed you out and said that you were a ‘nice, reliable boy’ and that I could trust you with my girls.  She said you drove half of the figure skating team home after the Saturday and Sunday sessions.”

“Maybe.  It changes from week to week,” he said as he pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. 

“How did you end up being the rink’s transit system?”

Nick laughed, “I never thought of it like that.  But… I guess…  I don’t know.  Someone’s parents asked if I could take their kid home, I guess and then it spun out of control.  It’s no big deal.”

He parked the car and they both headed into the restaurant.  A moment later they were seated in a booth in the back corner.  Before long they were talking as they munched on chips and queso, sipping their drinks.  Nick had been a little surprised at how easy the conversation was with Linda.  By the time they’d finished dinner, he knew a lot more about her, and the struggles she’s faced owning her own photography studio.  He didn’t understand some of it, but she seemed to enjoy being able to vent to him. 

She’d also had four margaritas in two hours, and they’d hit her a little harder than she would have expected.  Nick walked her to her car and drove her home as they continued to talk.  He pulled into the garage and gently helped her from her car.  When they walked into the kitchen, she turned to hug him. 

“Can I tell you something, Nick?” she asked. 

He was leaned back against the kitchen island, hands casually resting on the edge behind him.  As she talked, she stepped toward him.

“Sure, Linda.”

“Kat has a giant crush on you.  She has for a while.  But you can’t tell her,” she said, holding her finger in front of her lips.

“I won’t say a word,” he said, zipping his fingers across his lips then smiling. 

“And I don’t want you to date her, either,” she added, looking into his eyes.  He could see just how serious she was.  “To start with, she’s just too young.  She’s terribly mature, but she is barely fourteen.  There is no way she has the strength to deal with a man like you, Nick.  I know about you getting stuck in Heather’s room.  I know a lot about you.”  She took a step toward him, standing just past his feet.

“We didn’t do anything, Linda… Heather and I, I mean, we just kind of messed around a bit, but nothing serious.”

“I know.  But, Nick, you are a hard man to resist,” she said, smiling.  “Like right now, if you don’t leave, I don’t think I’ll be able to resist you.  But you should also know that I have thoroughly enjoyed spending the afternoon and this evening with you.”  She stepped forward again, now standing between his feet.

Nick smiled, uncomfortably.  As he looked back at her, Kat’s mom looked incredibly beautiful.  There was no more than six inches between them.  Standing in her kitchen, she was between his knees as he stood leaned back against the counter.  Her perfume was intoxicating.  Her lips were inviting. 

She reached over and wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer to her.  As he felt her body squeezed against him, she gently kissed him on the cheek, then the neck.  “You should probably call me Miss Keller around everyone else, Nick,” she whispered.  She pulled away from him and then pulled him back into her and kissed him passionately. 

The kiss was over too soon for both of them.  “And we can’t ever talk about what just happened, ok?” she said, a slight slur in her speech. 

“Ok,” he responded shakily. 

She melted into his arms and kissed him again.  And again, it was over too soon.  She moved closer and they ended with a hug.  “You need to go, Nick.  I need you to go.”  Her arms were still draped around him and he forehead resting against his.

Kat walked around the corner from the living room, seeing her mother wrapped around Nick.  She could see that they had kissed. 

“Mom!”

“Oh, hi Kat.  I didn’t know you were home yet,” she replied, her voice quiet.  

“I guess,” Kat said back to her mom, her voice holding a quiver. 

“I should go,” Nick said as he hustled back through the garage to get to his car.  He could hear a heated discussion in his wake. 

***

The next day Nick was in the skate room, building a pair of skates for one of the figure skaters.  Kat rolled into the skate room and over next to him.  She hopped up onto the bench next to the skates he was working on.

“Have a minute?” she asked.  “We need to talk about my mom.”

“Can I meet you on the floor in a minute?  I’m almost done with this,” he replied.  Then quietly added, “and Doug is on the other side of the rack and might hear us.”

“Ok.  I’ll be out skating.”

Nick finished up with the skates he was working on and then slipped his skates on.  He grabbed a whistle from the hook next to the door, told Doug he was going to work the floor for a bit, and rolled out of the room.  A moment later he slipped up behind Kat and tapped her on the shoulder. 

“What’s going on between you and my mom,” she said quietly.  He could barely hear her above the music. 

“Nothing, Kat.  I helped her with the furniture, and then we grabbed some dinner.  We had a nice talk… that’s all.”

“Right,” she said sarcastically.  “Whatever.  You can’t say anything to anyone, ok?  She has enough trouble with some of the moms here without adding you to the mix… and what you are saying didn’t happen.  By the way, she told me that she kissed you.  We tell each other everything.  So… I know that you are lying about nothing having happened.  But I also know why.  It’s ok… but you can’t tell ANYONE, ok?” she said, a nervous look in her eye. 

“Kat, I really like your mom…  She’s really nice.  I mean, not like, like, but like friends, ok?  I’m not going to say anything.”

Nick took her hand and spun her around facing him as the lights dimmed for a couple’s skate.  She dropped into the skating Waltz easily, as if they had practiced it. 

“You, know,” she said, “if you ever decide you’ve had enough of the speed skating, we could use some more boys for dance skating partners.”

“They want me to skate on the hockey team, too.  The girls are cuter, though,” he joked as she blushed. 

“Go away!” he heard growled from inside. 

“I have a package… I need a signature.”

“Didn’t order nothin’.  Don’t need nothin’.  Go away.”

“Sir,” he said, worry creeping into his voice, “I was told to give you fifty dollars if someone signed for this.”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled bill.

“You shoulda led with that,” the man said, a bent cigarette dangling from his lip as he pulled open the door. 

“This is for Lucinda Stevens,” the courier said. 

“What if she ain’t here?” 

“When will she be here?” the courier replied.

“I want my fifty bucks,” the man said, his voice low and threatening.  He turned and looked back into the darkness behind him.  “Luce, this asshole needs you to sign somethin’, but I get the fifty bucks.  Git yer ass over here.”

A thin, bedraggled woman emerged from the darkness of the interior.  She was the polar opposite of the man she slipped up behind.  She was slight, like a forest nymph, where he was more like a troll that might live under a bridge.

“Yes?” she said, her voice soft. 

“Can you sign this please?” the courier asked, holding out his clipboard. 

She took the pen in her left hand and quickly jotted an elegant signature.  The driver handed her the small package, but the man snatched it from the air between them. 

The courier backed away, and quickly headed toward his van.  He fired up the engine and spit gravel from the tires as he floored it to leave. 

“So… what’s this, Luce?” the man asked, his tone accusatory, the threat of violence barely below the surface. 

“I don’t know, Whit.”

He tore through the plastic envelope, spilling the contents onto the floor between them.  A black, leather-bound notebook and an old flip-phone.  Before Lucinda could pick anything up, Whit reached down and scooped up the former contents of the envelope into his large paw and walked into the kitchen. 

“What do we have here?” he said, tossing everything onto the kitchen table. 

He picked up the flip-phone.  He flipped it open as the screen lit up.  He pushed the buttons to see if there were any calls in the memory, but it was wiped clean.  He dropped it back on the table.  He turned his attention to the notebook.

Lucinda Stevens,

Wages and Stamps, Attorneys at Law, request your presence tomorrow at 9:00am.  A car service will pick you up at 8:25am in order to make the appointment on time.  Transportation is only available for you.  If you have any questions, please use the provided phone to contact our office.  Calls will be answered from that number only at any time of the day or night. 

Regards,

Lyle Stamps

Whit looked at Lucinda, who’d been unable to read the entry on the first page of the book.  “What the hell is this?” Whit asked her. 

“Can I look at it?” she asked, her voice soft and demure.  The last thing she wanted was for him to be upset. 

He tossed the little black notebook down on the table.  “Knock yourself out.”

She read over the note, then fanned through the rest of the notebook.  Aside from the first page, it was completely blank.  “I have no idea, Whit.  I don’t know who those people are.  I’ve never heard of them.”

Whit snatched the phone back up from the table and opened the notebook again.  He dialed the number and held the phone to his ear as it rang.  Lucinda, standing on the other side of the table, strained to hear. 

“Yeah… this is Whit Stevens and I demand to know the meaning of this package you sent my wife,” his deep voice rumbled into the phone. 

His eyes narrowed in response to whatever he heard.  He glared at Lucinda as he continued to listen. 

“And if she don’t?”

Whit turned away from her as he listened to the voice on the phone.  When he turned back around, his mischievous grin held no joy.  He closed the phone and tossed it back on the table next to the small, black notebook. 

“I’m going out with the boys,” he said, turning and walking from the room without another word.

“What did they say, Whit?  What is this about?” she called after him to no avail.  She heard the front door slam as Whit left. 

With nothing left to do, she read an old magazine in the failing light until it was too dark to read.  Then she fell asleep on the lumpy old couch. 

Lucinda woke up as unfiltered light streamed through the living room window, highlighting the squalor of the old trailer she shared with her husband.  She looked at the wind-up clock on the mantel.  7:48.  She walked down the hall to the bedroom.  Whit was passed out on top of the covers, snoring loudly, his face smashed into the bed.  She could smell the reek of cheap booze all the way from the doorway. 

Lucinda slunk across the room to the broken-down dresser.  She pulled out her nicest clothes, then slipped from the room to shower in the bathroom.  She was in and out, plunging into the unheated water to get wet, turning it off to lather up, then quickly rinsing and drying off.  She toweled her hair as well as she could, then quietly dressed. 

Stepping into the living room, the clock indicated it was 8:23. 

She picked up a jacket from the floor and walked out the door. 

“Oh, the book… I wonder if I’ll need the book?” she asked herself as she went back in to retrieve it from the table.  She was going to get the phone, too, but it was missing. 

When she stepped back outside, there was a black limo waiting, the driver standing next to the back door. 

“Mrs. Stevens?” he asked, his accent British, his voice friendly. 

“Yes,” she answered as she stopped and looked at him. 

“My name is Thompson.  Are you ready to go?” he asked, opening the door to the shiny black car. 

Lucinda smiled and slowly walked toward the car.  She looked at Thompson.  He wasn’t tall, only slightly taller than her five-foot-seven frame, but he was powerfully built with a broad chest and shoulders.  He wasn’t classically handsome but had a strong jaw and cheerful eyes.  Under one of his eyes was a jagged scar.  If not for the softness of his eyes, which telegraphed sympathy and trust, she would have been scared to get into a car with him.

“Inside you will find a selection of pastries and beverages in case you’ve not had breakfast,” he said just before closing the door. 

She looked around the back of the car.  It wasn’t a long stretch limo, but there was plenty of room.  In a cupholder was a cup of orange juice and in another, a cup of coffee.  On the seat next to her was a box with bagels and various spreads, and doughnuts. 

The partition rolled down between them.  “If there is anything else you need, Mrs. Stevens, please do not hesitate to ask.  We have plenty of time, so no worries.”

“Thank you, Mr. Thompson,” she replied. 

“Just Thompson, Ma’am.”

She felt the car smoothly pull out of the tight confines of the trailer park.  As it reached the road, it accelerated away. 

She watched through the window as the car pulled to a stop inside a parking garage.  They were downtown, she assumed under one of the big skyscrapers that she could see dotting the skyline from the playground near the trailer park.  A moment later Thompson appeared at her door. 

“Right this way, Mrs. Stevens?” he asked, holding her door. 

He opened the door to the elevator lobby, an elevator awaiting her.  As she entered the elevator, he waved a cardkey over a sensor and stepped back out, leaving her alone with her thoughts and her reflection.  There weren’t even any buttons or a display to busy herself with as it whisked her away. 

She glanced in the mirrors, seeing her reflection stare back at her.  Her gray dress pants hung off her oddly, being a couple of sizes too big, but they were clean and had relatively few wrinkles. The white, silky blouse wasn’t as lucky.  It had a couple of faded stains she pulled her jacket tighter to try to hide them. 

As she pulled the jacket tighter, she saw how thin and pale her hands looked.  Then she looked at the reflection of her face.  Gaunt was the word that came to mind.  She hadn’t gazed at her own reflection in months.  The mirrors in the trailer were tarnished or broken. 

“Just like me,” she said to her reflection, “tarnished or broken.”

She watched as a single tear escaped her eye and rolled down her face. 

“What happened to me?” she asked her reflection. 

You gave up, Luce, it replied. 

The doors slid open and a man stood in front of her. 

“Are you ready?” he asked. 

“For what?  I have no idea what this is about.”

“My name is Lyle Stamps.  Please, follow me,” he said, leading her to a glass enclosed conference room.  He pointed her to a seat. 

“Do you have the black notebook?” he asked her after she sat down.

She slipped it from the pocket inside her jacket, laying it on the table in front of her. 

“Turn to page three,” he instructed her. 

As she did so, she saw there were several lines neatly handprinted that she was positive hadn’t been there the evening before. 

Lucinda,

You have before you a choice:

-We can disburse to you $50,000 for you and your husband

Or

-We can disburse you $20,000 and you’ll never have to see him again or share it with him. 

The choice is yours.  Are you ready for a new life?  You have five minutes to decide. 

“Mr. Stamps, what’s the meaning of this?” she asked, but the room was empty, aside from her.  She stood up and looked around.  The glass windows had turned a semi-translucent green.  She was completely alone.  Lucinda walked to the door, but it was locked. 

“Who are you?  What is going on… I don’t understand?” she cried to the room. 

She walked back to the notebook.  Opening it up again, she saw that the next page was printed. 

Lucinda, do you want to be free?  This is your chance.  You can do whatever you want to do. 

Three minutes remaining.

Her head was spinning. 

More text appeared on the page.

Or you can go back to your old life.  Your choice. 

One minute remaining.

A moment later she heard the door click.  Mr. Stamps stepped through the door.  He held two envelopes. 

“When the timer hits zero, I put these away,” he said, putting a timer down in front of him.  He then held both envelopes up. 

She watched as the timer counted down.  He stared at her blankly. 

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

“Quickly, Mrs. Stevens,” the lawyer said.

Four.

Three.

She didn’t know what to do.

One.

She snatched one of the envelopes just before Stamps could put it away.  Opening it, she saw the two neat bundles of ten thousand dollars each.  She looked up to ask Mr. Stamps a question, but he was gone.

Planning Vengeance is a story about secrets. Secret crushes. Secret lives. Secrets of the past and present. Jack has been in love with Amy since the moment they met. Paul managed to get in the way and peel her from everyone around her. When he makes a mistake and Jack gets an opening, Paul’s revenge unleashes secrets in the pasts of all three families… Jacks, Amy’s and Paul’s.

Dig Two Graves is the culmination of the revenge that started in Planning Revenge. Death, near death, betrayal and conspiracy all come together for the conclusion. We also are introduced to a few new series characters and locations. Gunny and his merry band come into prominence, as well as Agent Sky, who is an enigma.

You Don’t Know Jack is a few years later. Jack and Amy have embarked on their lives and are making their way in the world when Jack finds himself kidnapped by a drug cartel kingpin. As we can assume, Jack and Amy’s fathers get Gunny involved and a rescue underway. But the rescue changes everything for Jack, Amy and everyone they know.

Who, What, When, Why? is a collection of shorter stories from the Dixon-Prince universe. Characters that have floated into, around and out of minor roles in the mainline stories star in these vignettes. Jack’s friends Terry and Cy both have stories. We find out how Jack and Amy finally got married, as well as when happened to Rolf, a little more about Agent Sky, and finally, the story of Anna… Paul’s mother.

Triple Cross is my newest title. JD Ross gets the boot from the military and nobody knows why, except perhaps his former girlfriend, Christi. When JD shows up at home in GA, she’s there to meet him and help him get back to civilian life. But soon, JD is suspected in a crime, and Christi is too busy keeping secrets. JD has to count of his friends to save him. Relationships change and appear, and JD’s life is forever altered.