The site is now live!
Testing all the new toys and links to promo pages. Basically, lots of way to stalk me and ask all sorts of inappropriate questions about my work.
Coming February 25th, 2014!
The stage has been set for the Producer’s rebellion but it has come at a great cost. With the effects of the awakening not fully realized, Jonathan must find his way across closed borders to track a friend that has gone rogue; a friend that could destroy everything and start a war between two countries.
I went to my garage to bring something into the house tonight and discovered that my key didn’t fit in the lock as well as it had done This morning. When I found out that my wife had the same issue earlier in the day, we realized that someone must have tried to use a key they found in our garbage to open the door. This thought disgusted me a little and the image started to fester in my mind as I wrote a note to put on the garage door. I thought to myself, “Self, perhaps it was just a diehard fan wanting a little memorabilia and not a parasite living of the scraps of a wasteful society.” Then I read the sign I had put on the door, “If you’ve tried to open this door with a key that you found in my trash, they were there for a reason; they won’t open this door, dumbass!” When all was said and done and I had finished insulting a possible fan, I realized two things: My fans aren’t that diehard (yet) and society is raising human vultures. There’s my soapbox for the day.
The intro to the third and final installment of “The Rebellion Writings” has begun!
A recognizable knock came at the door and Samantha cracked a smile. A police officer’s knock is a very distinctive one, even when off duty. Her supervisor had told her to relax and that was exactly what she intended to do. She was sitting on her living room couch in her favorite sweat pants and wearing a shirt that Jonathan had left behind. The feel of it against her skin made her tingle, not because of the reminder of their passion, but because it was too big for her. It hung from her shoulders as if it would fall off with the slightest breeze and if she curled up just right on the couch, she could wrap herself in it. She had been making love to the man who she had been dreaming about since her first year in recruit school. So when this very distinctive knock came to the door she felt her pulse challenge her desire to a race. A wall of disappointment caused an accident of epic proportions when she looked through the peek hole. The heart that fueled her pulse dropped into her stomach and her desire was repulsed by the bruise of a broken nose.
“Samantha Prescott? I’m Agent Williams and I need to speak with you, it’s very urgent.”
Samantha had heard about what had happened with her brother’s imposter and an agent from the department, but something about this man didn’t sit well. She wasn’t sure if it was the way that he was looking from side to side watching the exits or the lack of any razor touching his face in the last few days; she could almost see the odor through the door.
Like any intelligent person, she triggered the security scanner and asked, “Credentials please?”
Without hesitation Justin reached for his identification from inside his coat pocket and produced exactly what she had asked him for. “Ma’am, I need to speak with you immediately. You’re in terrible danger and my standing out in the hall talking through your door isn’t going to help the situation much. Please, let me in. If you’re uncomfortable, I will step back and wait ten seconds to enter so that you can back up to a safe distance from the door. This is a serious situation and time is not our friend.”
“That won’t be necessary, Agent Williams.” Samantha looked over at the small video display that sat on the corner table by her front door. It flashed a photo and security information about Justin. She opened the door to let him in. “Scanner says you’re clean, metaphorically. Please, come in.”