For Billy Jingo, living in Glennville is a dead in life. His trailer home next to the county dump. His dead-end job. The boring life he lived. And then on Friday morning his whole world turned upside down. He suddenly found himself emerged in crime that was so far above his normal reasoning range that, at first, he couldn’t even comprehend the implications on it. In a heartbeat he found himself in a fight for his life. On the run with someone’s drugs and money and a girl he had not even known just a few hours before. Buckle up, enjoy the ride. Fast paced pulp style fiction… #Crime #Audio #Pulp #Readers #Listeners
“Hey,” he said. A young guy. Unshaven. Wild hair. I could smell the street on him. His teeth were yellowed and chipped. Looked to be blackening in places I saw. His tongue continuously licked at his cracked lips. I couldn’t speak. Wouldn’t have known what to say if I had been able to, and I was having a very hard time keeping my eyes open. The lights were too bright.
“Hey,” he said again. “I didn’t know you would be naked… In a bath tub… He didn’t say that… I’m sorry…. I really am sorry.” His hand swam into view as I watched. Normal except a black lump seemed to be fused to it. A black lump with a blacker hole in the end of it. Fire spat from the blacker hole. The lights went out…#Audio #Book #SamWolfe #DreamTravel #Readers #Listeners
Amy and Diedra are best friends, maybe more, something always seems to be in the way every time an opportunity to explore the possibilities arise. Dave Plasko is serving a long sentence at Huntsville state prison, and after that he will be transferred to New York to serve more time. Rebbeca Monet is working her way up the ladder of success in the television reporter game. A hurricane of epic proportions is heading towards Mobile Alabama. The lives of the people involved will never be the same again… #Crime #Drama #Action #Readers #DellSweet #KDP #KU
The gritty concrete pressed against my cheek, cold and unforgiving. A dull, throbbing ache pulsed behind my eyes, radiating outwards to claim every muscle, every fiber of my being. My body felt heavy, leaden, as if anchored to the ground by unseen chains. The air hung thick and cloying, a miasma of decay and something else… something feral, something primal. I coughed, the taste of blood metallic on my tongue, a coppery tang that clung to the back of my throat.
My eyes flickered open, focusing slowly on the blurry shapes around me. The first thing I registered was the stench – the overwhelming stench of rot and garbage, a symphony of decay that assaulted my nostrils. #Horror #SciFi #Epic #Thriller #Drama #Kindle #Audible
In the epoch before epochs, before the first star ignited or the first whisper of thought coalesced, there existed a state of being so profound, so utterly complete, that it defied definition. The very essence of all that could possibly manifest was present, not as individual threads, but as a unified, unshaped whole, a perfect stillness that contained within it the potential for every conceivable hue, every conceivable sound, every conceivable form, and every conceivable emotion. It was a state of pure, unadulterated being, a state of absolute potential, where the concept of ‘is’ was synonymous with ‘could be.’ #Mystical #Mythology #Epic #Fantasy Audible #Kindle
The nightmare would begin insidiously, with the faintest whisper of a sound, a familiar vibration that would build, slowly at first, then with terrifying speed. It was the hum of the engine, the low thrum of the car carrying them towards an unseen precipice. He would feel the familiar press of the seat beneath him, the faint scent of Ann’s perfume, a scent that would soon be overwhelmed by the acrid stench of burnt rubber and fear. Then, the unmistakable sound, the prelude to chaos: the high-pitched shriek of tires desperately seeking purchase on asphalt, a sound that ripped through the fabric of the night and into the very marrow of his bones. #Horror #SciFi #Epic #Thriller #Drama #Kindle #Audible
Gus Dyer is a hardcore detective in the big city. He knows what crime is, and he has seen the worst of the worst walk her streets and taken those same people down. Some to jail, some to the gates of hell where they belonged in the first place.This time he is on the trail of a hired killer, Jimmy West. West works out of the city. It is his base and fortress, the place where he can roam free among millions of other people unseen, unchallenged and free to continue his crimes.#Detective #Crime #Mystery #Thriller #Suspense #Readers #KU
Gus Dyer The road to Redemption
Gus Dyer is a detective no more. Staring into the deep wells of corruption for too many years sent him into a spiral. He tried to use the bottle to find his way out, but that only dragged him in deeper. The road to Redemption is a look at that fall and how hard that fall was. But Gus is determined to stand on his own two feet again. It remains to be seen whether he will ever become a detective again, but he is finding out that being a detective is not about a badge. It isn’t something you take on with the position either. It is in your blood, and if you have it, you cannot help but follow those impulses that flood through your body with that blood when you know something is wrong. Dead wrong…#Detective #Crime #Mystery #Thriller #Suspense #Readers #KU
John Rourke is a private detective with contacts and a license to practice from New York to Arizona. He has the resources he needs across the country to find the information he needs to crack the toughest cases. Ex-cops, ex-Cons, snitches, stoolies, drug addicts, criminals, drug dealers and any kind of scum of the earth you can imagine or care to name. He knows the seedy side of life and to some people that makes him indispensable…
Book one:
The chipped paint on my beat-up Ford Falcon was flaking like old skin. The smell of stale coffee clung to the interior like a cheap perfume, a constant, bitter reminder of the long hours ahead. Across the street, Paul Fields’ two-story colonial loomed, a picture of suburban perfection, a stark contrast to the cramped discomfort of my temporary office. The relentless hum of traffic on Hemlock Drive was a dull, throbbing ache in my skull, a soundtrack to this tedious ballet of surveillance. My gut churned, not from the coffee, but from the gnawing feeling that I was hemorrhaging money, bleeding my retainer dry on this seemingly pointless stakeout…
Book 2 of 3: Private Investigations: John Rourke Private Detective Stories John Rourke is a private detective with contacts and a license to practice from New York to Arizona. He has the resources he needs across the country to find the information he needs to crack the toughest cases. Ex-cops, ex-Cons, snitches, stoolies, drug addicts, criminals, drug dealers and any kind of scum of the earth you can imagine or care to name. He knows the seedy side of life and to some people that makes him indispensable…
Book two: My apartment, usually a sanctuary of quiet solitude, became a temporary forensic lab. The dining table transformed into a command center, littered with maps, photographs, financial records, and transcripts of intercepted phone calls. The air hung heavy with the scent of stale coffee and the lingering aroma of cheap takeout containers. Days bled into nights as I painstakingly organized the evidence, meticulously documenting every detail, creating a comprehensive narrative that would stand up to the scrutiny of the legal system… #BookWorm #Readers #KindleUnlimited #WWWatson #Crime #Noir #Mystery #PrivateEye
John Rourke is a private detective with contacts and a license to practice from New York to Arizona. He has the resources he needs across the country to find the information he needs to crack the toughest cases. Ex-cops, ex-Cons, snitches, stoolies, drug addicts, criminals, drug dealers and any kind of scum of the earth you can imagine or care to name. He knows the seedy side of life and to some people that makes him indispensable…
Book three:
The silence was broken by the distant screech of a hawk, its cry sharp and piercing against the vast silence of the desert. It was a lonely sound, a perfect metaphor for the state of my own soul. I was tired, bone-deep tired. Sleep was a luxury I couldn’t afford, nightmares a constant companion. The faces of the victims, the ones I’d found along Rieser’s trail, haunted my dreams. Each one a testament to the brutal efficiency of a man who knew how to erase his tracks… #BookWorm #Readers #KindleUnlimited #WWWatson #Crime #Noir #Mystery #PrivateEye
s #BookWorm #Readers #KindleUnlimited #WWWatson #Crime #Noir #Mystery #PrivateEye
The dust swirled around my worn boots, a miniature desert storm kicked up by the frantic thump of my own heart. The air hung thick and heavy, the scent of dry earth and something else… something metallic and sickeningly sweet, clinging to the back of my throat. It was the smell of blood. Old blood. New blood. The kind that stains the soul as deeply as it stains the earth. I’d been clean for six months, six agonizing months of sweat-soaked nights and gnawing cravings, a testament to a willpower I never knew I possessed. Six months of staring at the cracked pavement, avoiding the shadowed corners where my past lurked like a hungry ghost. But tonight, the ghost had found me.
