Over 50 Manuscripts available
1. Working title “Escape to the Past”
Plot Overview
The story follows Ben Watson. He is almost 70 years old and his life is in shambles. He has been married 4 times, and each marriage has been progressively worse. Now he is with a woman Sarah Horton, twenty years his junior and has learned to have a real relationship. She has been through trauma of her own, including a 25 year marriage and three children with a man who abused her, cheated on her and she finally worked up the courage to leave. Ben has three children of his own. Neither Ben nor Sarah see their children.
Main Story lines
- Ben and Sarah: The two are living together and circumstance get worse. Ben is sick. He needs heart surgery. Sarah is also sick from undetermined illness that keeps her depressed and suicidal.
- Robert Lake: They have a friend, Robert Lake who works for the government. Unbeknownst to them, Bob is in a top secret project involving time travel. He was assigned to watch them and use their lives as examples. But over time Bob begins to actually care for them.
- The Clandestine mission: Bob attends several clandestine meetings where the abilities of the team are discussed. They can send people back to a specific date in time that has already occurred, but they can not bring them back, and their ability to communicate with them ends shortly after they arrive in the time. They never hear from them again.
- How it Works: They use test subjects to find safe places to send soldiers. It is soldier volunteers they use to go back and check out the past. They use test subjects first, involuntarily, because they do not know where exactly the will arrive. Maybe in the middle of a body of water, a rock, a road where they will be hit and killed. The test subjects allow them to find safe places.
- The Betrayal: The time has come for Bob to deliver Ben and Sarah to be test subjects, most likely killed. He can not do it and so he talks to Ben and Ben talks to Sarah. They come to realize they will be forced to do it. They decide to go back, but through a safe window Robert knows about. It will land them in 1968
2. Series Working Titles “Survive” 6 manuscripts dystopian survival series.
Plot Overview
The book follows survivors of a worldwide catastrophe which destroyed governments, cities, and social structures. Small groups of people band together to survive, rebuild, and create a new society.
Main Storylines
- A small group of survivors on the East Coast, camped near Manhattan, must decide their next move a midst the ruins.
- Adam takes charge of a group in Manhattan, fighting to protect them from gangs and violence.
- Conner and Katie provide safe haven for others, leading to a showdown with rival factions.
- Mike, left for dead, seeks revenge and reunites with his group
- The series progresses through the six books. Character names are replaceable…
3. Working Title “Living in the ‘Nam” War, action, thriller, military survival.
General Plot: A group of men fight their way through the jungles of ‘Nam and Cambodia. Based on a short story I wrote a few decades ago. This follows the company of men assigned to patrols, seek and destroy missions. Here is a sample from the manuscript…
The hulking silhouettes of the Huey helicopters, their rotor blades a thunderous percussion against the bruised dawn sky, began their descent. Sergeant Beeker, helmet already snug, felt the familiar vibration hum through the soles of his boots, a premonition of the chaos to come. Below, the shoreline of Vietnam, a ribbon of pale sand fringed by an impossibly verdant jungle, beckoned with the promise of both mission and peril. The air, a thick, suffocating blanket, tasted of salt and the metallic tang of distant ordnance, a pungent perfume that immediately stripped away the sterile calm of the transit. It was a sensory assault, a brutal welcome to a war that had already claimed so many.
The roar of the engines, an all-consuming presence, seemed to drown out the ceaseless, percussive rhythm of the ocean’s surf crashing onto the beach. This was no tranquil shore; it was a contested threshold, a place where the known world bled into the terrifying unknown. Beeker’s men, their faces a mixture of grim determination and thinly veiled apprehension, shifted their weight, the heavy bulk of their rucksacks and gear an immediate reminder of the burden they carried, both physical and metaphorical. Each man was a walking arsenal, his life dependent on the mechanisms and ammunition strapped to his back, but also on the mettle of the souls beside him.
As the choppers settled, kicking up clouds of sand and spray, the ramp dropped with a clang that echoed Beeker’s own internal alarm. The men spilled out, a river of olive drab flowing onto the alien sand. The humidity seized them instantly, clinging to their skin like a second, sweat-soaked uniform. It was a damp, cloying embrace that promised no comfort, only discomfort and the constant threat of chafing and exhaustion. The sand itself was a deceptive carpet, shifting and soft underfoot, betraying the firm ground they had left behind. Every step was a conscious effort, a battle against the terrain before the real fight even began.
Beeker scanned the treeline, his eyes, trained by countless hours of instruction and grim experience, searching for any flicker of movement, any anomaly in the otherwise uniform green. The jungle loomed, a dense, impenetrable wall of vegetation, its silence unnerving. It was a silence that screamed of hidden dangers, of watchful eyes and coiled muscles. The distant artillery, a low, guttural rumble, served as a constant reminder that this was no isolated incident, but a theater of war, vast and unforgiving. The ocean’s roar, a primal force, seemed to mock their fragile human endeavors, a reminder of nature’s indifference to their plight.
Corporal Davies, his face tight with strain, adjusted his M16, his knuckles white. “Hot here, Sarge,” he muttered, his voice a rough whisper swallowed by the din.
“Keep your head down, Davies,” Beeker replied, his gaze never leaving the jungle’s edge. “It’s always hot.” He knew the heat was more than just the oppressive climate; it was the simmering tension that permeated the air, the unspoken fear that clung to each man like the sticky humidity.
The men began to spread out, fanning across the beachhead, their movements practiced and efficient, yet underscored by a palpable urgency. They were a small island of ordered chaos in a sea of natural indifference and potential hostility. The objective was clear: establish a perimeter, secure a foothold, and prepare for whatever came next. But the sheer scale of the task, the vastness of the enemy territory they had just infiltrated, weighed heavily on Beeker. They were a single unit, a mere handful of soldiers against an unseen enemy who knew this land intimately, who could melt into its shadows and strike with deadly precision.
Private Miller, barely out of his teens, stumbled slightly, his pack riding high on his shoulders. Beeker caught his eye, offering a curt nod of acknowledgment, a silent reassurance that he saw him, that he was accounted for. Miller’s youth was a stark reminder of the innocence being stripped away, piece by piece, with every step they took deeper into this conflict. The boys who had left home, full of bravado and patriotic fervor, were slowly being chiseled into something harder, something more resilient, but also something irrevocably altered.
The beachhead was a treacherous expanse, a narrow strip of vulnerability between the vast, indifferent ocean and the dark, menacing embrace of the jungle. It was a place of transition, a point of no return. The initial moments were critical, a race against time to establish a defensive line before the enemy could exploit their exposed position. Every man understood his role, the importance of his contribution to the collective survival. They moved with a focused intensity, their senses heightened, tuned to the subtle shifts in the environment that could signal danger.
Beeker felt the familiar knot of anxiety tighten in his gut, a constant companion on these deployments. It wasn’t the fear of death, not exactly, but the fear of failure, the fear of not being able to protect his men, the fear of making the wrong call that would send them all into the abyss. He trusted his training, his instincts, but he also knew that in this war, intuition and experience often warred against a capricious and brutal reality. The dice were loaded, and the stakes were lives.
As the perimeter began to take shape, a series of hasty defensive positions dug into the soft sand, a low hum began to fill the air, different from the helicopters’ departing thrum. It was a subtle sound at first, easily dismissed as the wind or the persistent insects. But it grew, becoming more distinct, more… purposeful. Beeker’s head snapped up, his gaze sweeping the treeline with renewed intensity.
“Hear that?” he barked, his voice cutting through the ambient noise.
A ripple of apprehension went through the men. They had been trained for this, prepared for the sudden eruption of violence, but preparation could only do so much against the visceral shock of contact. The enemy was always the unseen variable, the ghost in the machine, capable of materializing from nowhere.
Dozens of manuscripts ready now, or tell me what you need and I will supply it. I may even have what you want already written, Dell Sweet
Contact info: radsandboxofficial@gmail.com Subject: Ghostwriter
Info: Manuscripts are finished to the point where you can edit and make them yours. The story lines are completely written. The manuscripts average about 100 k. There are character names and place names, they can easily be edited and mass changed.
You can check out my work on Amazon to see how I write and to satisfy yourself that I am legitimate and professional as well as a quality writer. Over 50 manuscripts available in many genres.
Dell Sweet, one of my popular pen names: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Dell-Sweet/author/B01N24V05N?ccs_id=755e0992-d485-44ee-8d16-5d450d6f6a88
Geo Dell, another of my popular pen names: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Geo-Dell/author/B00BI08VNY?ccs_id=74f99b9e-a89b-42a4-870c-cfe7c0a556cf
