Book Releases || July 19, 2016 || WWII Spies & Family Saga’s

Red Sun Over Mexico"Red Sun Over Mexico" by H. Paul Doucette

by H. Paul Doucette

Spring 1942

Washington, DC. The country is slowly recovering from the shock of Pearl Harbour. Everywhere, everyone is ramping up for the coming conflict. Recruiting centers are flooded on a daily basis as men and women rush to enlist.

Sergeant Paul Jarvis, newly married and returned from his last assignment in Panama, has been informed that he and the rest of CIC has been assigned to California where they will be working with the Office of Naval Intelligence.

Intelligence has reported that the Japanese are settings up radio posts and possibly submarine bases in the Gulf of California. They have also indicated that they are doing this with support from a splinter faction opposed to the government and with strong anti-American leanings. It is rumoured that these operations are being run by a Tokeitei agent. Jarvis believes this might be Haito Toshi who led the attacks in Panama.

Jarvis and a young ONI agent are ordered to Mexico with orders to capture Toshi…if possible. Problem is, Jarvis still remembers the dead naked body of a young American woman on a bed.


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Chapter One

 February 1942, Washington, D.C.

A cold north wind blew all the way from the Atlantic Ocean and over Chesapeake Bay making the gray overcast day even more miserable. The sidewalks were full of people huddled inside heavy coats and boots against the biting cold. Everywhere you looked all you could see was a sea of uniforms from ratings to all levels of brass. Most were wearing one type of military uniform or another from the various branches of service; clerks, administrators, aides or just those awaiting their orders to report somewhere.

America had been at war now for a couple of months and was caught up in that period of shifting from a peacetime country to one in full mobilization for war. Not long after Pearl Harbour we had also declared ourselves against Germany. Pearl Harbour had the effect of galvanizing the country silencing any isolationists or those who opposed involving us in what was considered to be a European war. The attack on Pearl Harbour was a serious blow to our naval forces in the Pacific. The resulting fear and confusion was mounting that the Japanese were staging for an invasion on the west coast and cries were coming almost hourly for army and air force resources to establish coastal defences. Hence the confusion in the capital.

My name is Paul Jarvis. I am a Staff Sergeant with the newly created Counter Intelligence Corps, formerly called the Counter Intelligence Police. We are part of the Military Intelligence apparatus with our primary function being, in part, the security of our bases at home and abroad.

In January of this year we underwent a change in name and function. Like I said, we are now called the Counter Intelligence Corps and have taken on a more direct role with counterespionage and other intelligence operations. Like Major Dobson once said, we’re not just another cog in the machinery. We have something the others don’t have—extensive background and experience in the Pacific, especially, Japan.

We had been waiting at Area Command in Puerto Rico where we were sent after my last assignment in Panama where I played a major role in stopping a Japanese attempt to sabotage the western canals. It was just pure luck that we stumbled onto their plot. I was actually there to investigate a murder on one of the bases. This happened just days before the Japanese attacked us at Pearl Harbour.

We had arrived back in the States two weeks earlier. The ‘we’ I refer to is Major John Dobson, my boss, and Lieutenant Carol Jarvis, my new wife. The major and I have been together since 1930 stationed in the Philippines.

I was heading to our temporary offices just off from the Georgetown University campus. Since Washington was in a state of confusion as it made the transition to a war footing, everyone was clamoring for office space. Our office was located on the fourth floor of an old office building that had been taken over by the Army. I was on my way back from the FBI with their latest reports on a variety of activities that might be of interest to us. I was stopped at the entrance by one of two large armed MPs who asked for my ID.

When I reached our assigned space, I saw Carol Jarvis sitting at her usual place: a desk outside Major Dobson’s office.

Carol Jarvis has been with Major Dobson for almost five years as his personal assistant. She joined us as a young lieutenant from the Women’s Army Corps as an administration clerk. She is a very attractive woman in her mid-twenties, five foot four with a svelt figure but don’t make the mistake that’s all she is, because she is very good at her job and completely loyal to Dobson and, of course, me.

Over the years she and I became very close and ultimately fell in love. It was just after the Panama mission that we decided it was time so we got married. Major Dobson was delighted. He stood for us gave her away. Carol was happy he did this since her parents were both dead and she thought of him like a father.

Today she was dressed in her regulation uniform, as usual. She always wore her uniform when on duty. The only identifying items on it were her lieutenant bars on the epaulets and shirt collar, and the new shoulder patch identifying her as being with Military Intelligence.

“Hi, baby,” I said, as I removed my overcoat and hat. One of the advantages of our little operation was not having to always wear uniforms when on duty.

“Hi yourself,” she said back with a gorgeous smile. “He wants to see you. Go right in.”

I gave a quick rap on the door then opened it and went inside.

“Sir. You wanted to see me?” I asked, stepping to his desk.

Major Dobson was sitting behind his desk as usual. A heavy set man in his forties with graying hair. He wore a dark blue single breasted suit, shirt and tie. One of the first things you notice when meeting him for the first time are his eyes: clear, bright and penetrating.

“Yes, take a seat,” he said. “I just came from a meeting over at headquarters. Looks like we’ve got our marching orders.”

He passed a sheet of paper across to me. I scanned it quickly.

“San Diego?” I looked up and passed the page back to him.

“Uh-huh. Looks like it’s going to our main base of operations for the near future, and we’re getting some help…new agents.”

“That’d be nice. When do we have to go?”

“Soon. I just wanted to give you a head’s up. Oh, and be available for a while. ONI is sending someone over later today for a meeting with information relevant to San Diego. Anything I need to know from the Bureau?”

“Not really. Just the usual traffic.” I put the file I had on the desk.

“Okay. Thanks. That’s it for now.” He looked back at the documents on his desk. “Leave that with Carol. Thanks.”

“Yes, sir.” He wasn’t big on a lot of chatter. I stood and headed for the door.

About an hour and a half later Carol stood in the door of my office.

“You’re being summoned. They’re waiting.”

"The Season of Forever" by Brenda Ashworth BarryThe Season of Forever

A Seasons Saga Novel

by Brenda Ashworth Barry

Life throws curve balls left and right at Beth Ann and Kaylob. Tragedy strikes, leaving Blake shot and paralyzed needing to undergo a delicate surgery, that he may not survive. While Kaylob deals with the emotional roller coaster of all the secrets kept from him, he is also holding his breath waiting to see if Blake makes it through the night, after being shot three times. Beth Ann tries to keep the faith, but with a new child and everything going on around her, she finds faith slipping away.

If he does live through the operation, will he ever walk again and will he blame Ginger, who also suffers from the physical damage of being shot and beaten by her soon to be ex-husband? She is faced with the fear that Blake might die, or Arnold will be jailed, and all she can do is blame herself. Some relief comes when Frankie swears to take Arnold to trial and have him put away.

Come and take the final journey in book six with Beth Ann and Kaylob as they say goodbye to the old and hello to the new. They both cling to each other as life gives them storms and devastating news.

Will they ever get their forever life of love and happiness?

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Chapter One

Blake’s eyes flew open to unholy pain, but he fought like hell to focus. Why were fireworks echoing around him and where was he? Wait, this was winter, so why in God’s name was he lying on the ground outside? The sounds around him vanished as the memory assaulted him.

Christ all mighty, it wasn’t fireworks it was gunshots. Blake raised his head and tried to move, but couldn’t budge anything. Damn, the burning was excruciating. He groaned in agony, feeling as though his guts had been ripped out. Placing his trembling hand on his stomach, he asked, “What the hell?” Something warm and wet gathered on his fingers. “Holy shit.” He glanced at the blood as it dripped down onto his shirt.

He cringed. “Damn, that’s not good.” When he tried to wipe it off on the asphalt, he tasted a metallic flavor in his mouth.

Did that mean he was bleeding internally? Was he dying?

He caught sight of his friend, Johnny, who was firing his gun at Arnold, Ginger’s deranged husband, who kept darting behind the telephone pole. Johnny was yelling into the phone with his free hand. “Get someone here now. Two have been shot and are bleeding. One is my fiancée.”

Good thing Blake had a long cord that allowed Johnny to bring the phone out on the front porch. He heard Johnny say, “hurry,” before he dropped it.

The pain ripped through him, and his breathing became labored. Oh Lord, he remembered something else, Ginger had been with him, but where the hell was she?

“I’m calling the police,” someone yelled, more than likely his neighbor.

“I called the ambulance,” Johnny yelled back.

Blake heard several loud cracks and saw Johnny shooting at Arnold. After a few seconds, he saw the asshole finally fall to the ground and start to wail, like the coward he was. Thank God, Johnny had finally brought him down, and it appeared he had got him in both legs.

“Make sure you get his rifle, Johnny,” Blake said with a ragged voice and knew damn well Johnny would handle it, but it made him feel something besides completely useless since he couldn’t move.

Johnny ran over and handcuffed the piece of shit. “You fucking scum!” He grabbed the rifle.

Blake was sure as hell relieved that Johnny had been a detective and was his bodyguard.  He knew how to handle this. No doubt, he was big enough to kick Arnold’s ass from here to China. He winced, trying to move again, but couldn’t.

“Ginger,” Blake hollered. He needed to get to her and see if she was okay, but nothing worked. “Ginger!” he called out two more times. Where the hell was she?

Johnny hurried next to Dana, his fiancée, who was like Blake’s little sister. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, trying to soothe her as she cried.

Next, he rushed to Blake “You’re okay, boss. Help is on the way.”

They both shot a glare at Arnold when he yelled, “I’m going to kill that bitch. You can’t stop me. Ginger, get out here, you slut!”

“Bastard,” Johnny grumbled. “I got him in both legs, but I should have shot him in the head.” He touched Blake’s arm. “Can you move anything?”

“No.” Blake tried again with a raspy voice. “Check on Dana, and make sure she’s okay. We have to find Ginger, too.”

A few minutes later, Johnny was holding what looked like Dana’s sweater around her arm. It was bleeding, but it didn’t look too bad.

Dana looked over and met Blake’s eyes. “Johnny, go to Blake,” she cried. “I’m fine. I can hold my sweater on my arm.”

Johnny ran over, pulled off his jacket, and stuck it under Blake’s head. “I can’t move you, boss. The people on the phone told me to wait and let the paramedics do it.”

“I can’t feel my legs.” Blake glanced up at him and saw sadness shadow his eyes. “If I die, make sure Ginger is taken care of.”

“You’re not going to die,” Johnny said, but Blake knew by the look in his eyes that he didn’t believe it.

“Just promise me!” Blake raised his voice. “Now, check on Ginger.”

“I don’t want to leave you and Dana.”

“She’s here, damn it.”

He looked around. “Where is she? I didn’t know she was here. I thought you were just delirious when you were calling for her.”

Blake pointed at the car. “Oh shit, now I remember. I pushed her inside the car. I think she was shot in the head.” He closed his eyes and felt tears burning. He hadn’t been able to keep her safe as he’d promised. There was no way to hold back his emotions. He’d grown fond of the redheaded beauty. After everything that monster had put her through, she couldn’t die. Her crazy asshole husband had beaten her so bad that he’d almost killed her.

Books Release || Jan 30, 2016 || Ghostly Romance & A Family Saga Thriller

The Way Unforeseen

The Ghostly Way #0.5

by Jill Bisker

A tragic tale of unrequited love, a broken heart, and the lost dreams of another era. Teoline, Quentin and Soren were introduced in the novel Finding the Way Back. The Way Unforeseen tells the story of how they came to know and love each other, and details the terrible events leading up to their final redemption and fulfillment.


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Chapter One

Her heart was full of exhilaration. She wasn’t sure whether it was just being with Quentin, or if it was also knowing that she was doing something that her parents wouldn’t find socially acceptable that made it so. They met and sat by the lake while they talked of everything and nothing. They laughed watching the ducks chase the little pieces of bread they tossed. She felt as if there was no one else in the world who understood her like this man. Even after such a short acquaintance, they seemed to agree about everything.

The weeks flew by, and each day she spent anxiously waiting for the next time she could sneak out to be with Quentin. She found herself looking for his bright blue nineteen-forty Chevy whenever she was out on the street.

The joy she’d once felt in her work at the library took on a feeling of drudgery while watching the hands of the clock move toward their appointed assignations. Quentin would stop at the back door to the building and she would try to steal away, unannounced. She would jump into the passenger seat and Quentin would shoot off. As the first snows started to fly, he announced that he was being assigned to another territory. They were sitting in his car with the windows down after eating at a café in the next town over, and she didn’t know what to do or say. She’d known something was wrong when he’d been quiet during dinner.

“So, where do you go next?” Teoline asked, folding and unfolding a match book she’d picked up as a memento of another time they were able to be together.

“Iowa,” he answered, his eyes trained out the front windshield. “After that, it’s on to Illinois.”

“Oh,” she said softly. There was a lump in her throat and tears began forming behind her eyes. She willed them not to fall. Inside the car it was quiet except for other vehicles passing outside. She looked at the cream colored leather seat with its rips and tears, the dirty dashboard, and the worn carpet. This dingy interior had become a comfortable sort of home while they were together. After a few more minutes, Quentin started the car and put it in reverse. Neither of them spoke another word until they were a block from her parents’ house.

“Do you think you can get out tomorrow night? I’d like to be with you one last time before moving on.” His voice seemed stretched, and she wondered if his words were creating as much pain for him as for her.

Tears for the Departed

Swann Saga – Book Two

by J. Troy Seate

Renee Swann’s innocence was shattered in the Altinoma Valley, but she and her family survived. She believes she’s endured the most horrific circumstances imaginable, but she’s wrong. Now, nine years later, with a busy life and a good job in New York, Renee feels a growing uneasiness as the horrors of her past give way to a chilling new nightmare…and there’s nowhere to hide. Can she survive the horror that took root long ago once more, or will this ultimate exploitation and degradation destroy her?


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Chapter One

“She’s gone!”

“Who’s gone?” Renee Swann asked, holding the phone with one hand and a small square of buttered toast with the other.

“Mattie Lawrence,” Renee’s assistant gushed excitedly. “Her super said she just packed a bag and told him she wouldn’t be back!”

“Damn,” Renee said under her breath. “Okay, Kate. We’ll find someone else. Check with the usual agencies and I’ll talk to Valor.”

Renee placed her phone back on its cradle. She remembered her dad saying similar words to her mother…a lifetime ago.

“Jennifer’s gone,” he had said.

The chilling comparison made the hair on her neck stand at attention. An invisible finger turned to that page of her life. Her thoughts drifted back almost a decade to Altinoma, when, at thirteen, she had been in the clutches of the Andrews. Unpleasant memories welled in the back of her skull, just a thought away from surfacing and taking center stage. “Not today,” she told herself. “I’ve got too much to do.”

Renee returned to her bedroom and pulled down on the fitted sheet that popped off the corner of the bed on restless nights. Then, she opened the bedroom louvers and closed the sliding glass door; the rituals of the morning, the things that anchored her to the reality that wanted to slip away during her night dreams. Images from the past crowded back into her mind as vivid as if they had happened the day before, visiting her parents’ grave, hiding in a hole in the ground with Donnie Andrews, visualizing the boogieman Doc Vickers said lived in the woods, and the moment she realized Donnie’s parents, Doc and Viola all lied to her, used her for their own purposes.

People long dead, wandering about in her head. “Demons be gone,” Renee said as she warmed to her first sip of cinnamon-laced coffee and forced her thoughts back to her present life. Mattie taking off surprised her. Although young and impressionable, she showed potential. She could only wonder if Mattie went home, somewhere in the Midwest or moved in with some guy she met in the business. Sometimes girls came back to give modeling another shot, but not usually.

“I’m here to stay. That’s for sure,” Renee said as she admired her New Jersey condo. The early morning sun slanted across soft contemporary furniture she picked out a piece at a time. Her place was a symbol of how far she’d come from the Altinoma Valley. Her career and independent lifestyle were her proudest achievements.